#circular pendant lights

[quidittch]

New York Living Room Home Bar

[carlagriffin]

Single Wall Home Bar New York Mid-sized, traditional, single-wall, dark wood floor, glass-front cabinets, beige cabinets, wood countertops, and glass tile backsplash seated home bar idea

[margarita-cansino]

Kitchen Great Room in Miami An illustration of a medium-sized transitional single-wall kitchen with shaker cabinets, an island, an undermount sink, white cabinets, marble countertops, white backsplash, subway tile backsplash, and stainless steel appliances is shown.

[sare11aa11eras]

Daenerys Missandei Irri and Jhiqui!

[Image Description: A full-length drawing of four people, Daenerys Targaryen, Missandei of Naath, and Dany’s two Dothraki handmaidens, Irri and Jhiqui. They are standing progressively farther back from the viewer. Daenerys stands in profile, walking forward, talking to someone. Missandei and Jhiqui have their bodies facing the viewer, Irri is angled slightly to the right side of the drawing. Missandei, Irri, and Jhiqui look at Daenerys. They are standing on a red carpet against a blank background.

Daenerys wears a purple tokar with a gold fringe. She wears her dragon crown, a gold bangle, rings of various materials, a gold vambrace with purple stones, gold earrings with purple stones, and an elaborate necklace with purple stones. From the necklace and the crown dangle long strings of red and black beads. She wears an anklet and leather sandals. A few golden bells can be seen in her hair.

Missandei wears a knee-length light orchid-color dress. It hangs loosely around her. Her dress is trimmed at the hem with purple and blue beads of different lengths. She wears sandals similar to Dany’s. She wears a large V-shaped piece of jewelry similar to a collar around her neck and over her collarbones. It is gold, mostly decorated with purple stones, and a blue butterfly design. Missandei wears earrings with blue butterflies and purple, pink, and yellow stones. She wears a bracelet of alternating pink and yellow stones. Her hair is in braids to pull it away from her face, but is otherwise in an Afro-type style. She holds a tablet and writing utensil in front of her chest. She has an interested expression as she looks up from her writing towards Dany.

Irri wears Dothraki clothes. She wears long trousers, which are blue fabric with a fringed panel of leather along the inside of her leg and groin. She wears leather boots with green, white, and purple painted swirls on them. She wears a dark leather belt around her middle and a belt of gold discs over it. The central gold disc has a green stone. More blue fabric wraps around her chest, either pleated or wrappings. Over this is a painted vest, primarily decorated with blue, green, and white. On her upper arm is an armband with an illustration of a horse galloping in grass. She has leather wrappings on her wrist and opposite upper arm. She wears one visible ring. She wears a leather necklace with a triangular gold pendant and gold triangular earrings. Her hair is in at least three braids, tied off with gold beads. She has bangs. She wears a woven headband of green and blue, with jade stones. Her face is neutral.

Jhiqui also wears Dothraki clothes, although hers do not look practical for riding. Her clothes are primarily fabric of a deep raspberry color. Along the outer side of her trousers is a stripe of leather, fringed at the end, painted with pink and pale purple flowers. On her chest she wears a beaded brooch shaped like a flower, with pink petals and a green “stem”. She wears slippers, in the same material as the rest of her outfit, with a decoration of pink flowers on yellow around the heel. Her vest is laced closed over a green and gold under layer. Her vest is trimmed at the hem with gold discs. Around her middle is a dark leather belt, with a thin belt of gold discs over it. She wears a leather necklace similar to Irri’s, with a circular gold pendant with a garnet stone. Her earrings match this pendant. She wears two rings. Her arm band is gold and garnet. Her hair is worn similarly to Irri’s. She has a bracelet with chips of green jade set in silver on a leather cuff. She has a nose piercing with a gold chain that leads to her earring. She appears to be wearing rouge. She looks mildly interested in whatever is happening. End ID./]

[bobardo]

requesting some morning after content with cowboy!tangerine bc that is actually so hot. (aka imagining him wrapped up in a towel with that damn gold necklace around his neck. fuck) - 🍓nonnie

on it berry 🫡🫡

wc: 1.1k

cw: dubcon/noncon. smut. minors dni. 18+. implied kidnapping. d/s dynamics. oral (f receiving). fingering (f receiving). prolly more lmk what i missed (if any) 😁.

previous part.

waking after a night out is always hard, but particularly when you've had an eye bigger than your stomach. you had one too many drinks last night, if the migraine pressing at your temples is anything to go off of. you groan as you're pulled from the throes of slumber, shifting against the tensile bedding beneath you.

you groan, or mewl, rather, when the sensation of silk against your skin registers; so soft. too soft.

something's wrong.

your eyes snap open, head turning frantically from side to side as you take in your surroundings. the walls encompassing you are tall, and dark, built with panels of brown maple wood, looming over you. you swallow thickly.

your breathing starts to faltering, but you will yourself to press down the panic as you continue to reorient yourself with the world. there's two windows to the left of you, and a balcony to the front, but all you can see out is a city skyline and building tops (city. city? you don't live in a city). the sound of water pelting against the ground starts to register in your ears, but it's not raining. you look to the right, and see a door framed in a halo of light, the noisy shower running behind it.

shit!

you press yourself up from your position on the bed—noisy, shuffling across the sheets loudly as you search for your clothes, distraught. your hair flutters in your face annoyingly as your lift the mussed sheets to try and discover your top and shorts (and bra and panties) but you find nothing. you squeeze your eyes shut, bottom lip caught between your top teeth, with dread.

the door swings open, a large plume of smoke swirling out after it, before you can broil in your self-pity any longer.

you try to fight the way your jaw slackens when your eyes shift to the figure in the door, but it's certainly... demanding to due so.

you peruse your eyes down the man—tangerine, was that is name?(couldn't be, could it?)—before you, towel folded around his trim waist, dripping with water, evidently from the shower. there's a tooth brush hanging from his strawberry lips, and a gold chain dangling down from his neck, and circular pendant settled between the dip of his pecs. wet curls swinging in front of his forehead as her moseys over to the dress to the left of him, rummaging through the drawers for something to wear.

"monrin' darlin'," he says around his toothbrush, a crooked, fleeting smirk thrown over his shoulder as he pulls out a henley and jeans. you bleat something pathetic, and slightly aroused, back in response. he turns to face you, a chuckle on the tip of his tongue, and he takes the brush from his mouth. "how'd y'sleep, sweet thing?"

christ.

"o-okay," you sputter, twiddling your thumbs. you inch back on the bed when he takes a step toward you, ignore the way the corner of his lips hint upward in a smirk.

"did'y have a nice dream, darlin'?" he mumbles, kneeing on to the mattress, pushing forward to wrap a large hand around your dainty ankle. he tugs you into him, and you squeal at the sudden movement. your eyes widen to the size of saucers as he starts to crawl over you, dripping onto your body.

the sheet you haphazardly clutched up to your heaving chest is ripped out of your grasp with one sure tug from tangerine, presenting your bare flesh to him. you shake beneath his wolfish gaze.

"tell me what y'dreamt of, sweet thing," he mumbles, eyes glued to your tits, bruised from the night prior. he sinks down to smear his lips over your sternum, supple, tongue laving over sweet, sweat-slicked skin.

your brain short-circuits, dizzy with panic and dread and lust and pleasure—a heady cocktail being force fed down your throat—but your rack your mind for the vivid imagery that projected in your mind last night.

"i—i was o-on a dock," you stutter to him, arms shifting upward against the sheets, going to rest above your head on their own accord. tangerine smirk into your skin.

"keep going," he urges, slipping further down. his lips trail from your sternum to your navel, navel to your mound, mound to your swelling, sticky clit. his tongue peeks out to lick tentatively at the hood, evoking a shiver from you.

"there wa—" you choke as he suckles your pearl between his strawberry lips, tongue petting over the very head gently, soaking it. "there was a big boat, a— a yatch," you finish, huffy.

"mhmm," he hums, encouraging you to continue, throwing an arm over your stomach to keep you pressed down to the mattress as he brings his free hand up to push his fingers into your slick hole, stretching you from the seam.

"fuck! i was— i got on and— god, i... don't fuckin' know; don' know, can' 'member, just— please, don't stop, pleasepleaseplease," you prattle off, slurred, bringing one hand down to tangle in his wet curls and keep his mouth sealed over your modesty. your hips grind down against his tongue, shoving him deeper, farther into you.

he fucks his finger—just one, but the sensation it gives you rivals its reality, so thick—in and out of you at a pace that matches your gyrating hips and his flicking tongue, hot and tacky against your clit, clinging, spit webbing from his mouth to your sweet pussy lips.

he presses another finger at your entrance, pushes.

"jesus— shit!" you groan, head rolling back in the silk sheets. he jams his fingertips straight into your g-spot, stroking easily through your drenched, gummy walls, stabbing into that pressure point that makes you see stars as he nibbles meanly at your puffy clit. "g'na come, fuckfuckfuck, i'm g'na cum, tan!" you cry.

he snickers giddily into your slick, massaging his fingers and tongue harder, mumbles something resemblant of, "gimme that fuckin' cream, sweet thing," into you, and you're doing just as you'd warmed him. your come spills into his mouth, drenches his tongue and soaks his open palm as he continues to fuck you through it, muttering assurances and praises against you.

s'it, darlin', come f'me

good girl, baby, drenchin' my tongue

sweet fuckin' thing, can't get 'nough of you

you're twitchy when he pops off of you, crawling back over your sprawled figure. your lashes flutter as he smirks down at you, a predator over its prey.

"what'd y'do if i told y'that dream y'was tellin' me 'bout was real," he mumbles, gaze flitting over your sweat-slicked face as your brows draw to the center of your forehead. you frown through stuttered breaths, confused, and allow him to nudge your head to the side, gaze falling to the windows, the city skyline and building top.

city.

city?

you don't live in a city...

your frown worsens. shit.

——

not edited/proofread!!

[ahhfear]

MY FINISHED ADOLIN COSPLAY FROM LAST YEAR!!

the leafy chain is to represent maya, in this picture it’s hard to see anyone but sureblood but i also had a galant charm and a sword maya charm. and of course my wedding ring.

these last two are mostly silly, i think it’s important you know w bought horse socks for this cosplay. and the last picture is of me proposing to a lovely shallan cosplayer with a ring pop. it was a very fun time

-

[IDs copied in alt text: 5 photos, IDs in order from right to left, top to bottom.

first ID: a photo of a cosplayer dressed as Adolin, shown from the thighs up. The photo was taken in a park, with trees and dappled sunlight in the background. The cosplayer is slim with pale skin and their curly hair in black and gold stripes has been pulled back in a low ponytail with curly bangs hanging over their forehead. They wear a modified Kholin uniform in shades of blue. They wear a medium blue, puffy sleeved shirt with tight cuffs, a darker blue vest with gold detailing, and navy blue pants. The vest has been sewn and altered extensively. It has gold trim along the edges. There’s a vibrant panel in the centre of the front, attached with two rows of gold buttons, and the Kholin glyphpair is embroidered along the panel in gold. There is a gold chain attached to the bottom two buttons on the vest, lined with green leaf charms, and a chain on the right side has an iridescent white horse charm. They are wearing jewellery as befitting a prince - necklaces, pins, and a ring. One necklace is a gold chain with coin-shaped charms hanging from it, and the other necklace has a shiny pendant. The pins are attached to the vest, both gold, both over the heart. One is circular with a blue gem in the centre, and the other has a pointed flower shape with a white gem. They stand confidently, their left hand resting on the hilt of the sheathed sword on their belt. That hand wears a gold ring with a diamond in the centre. In a final touch they also wear dashing gold sword earrings.

second ID: a further zoomed out picture of the same adolin cosplayer in the same pose, this time with a more neutral expression. their whole body is in frame and the background is not blurred. their shoes are brown heeled boots the same color at the belt hilt for the sword. one foot is up on a small ledge

third ID: the same cosplayer, pose and framing as the first picture. the only difference being they have a huge grin on their face, as if they were just told a very funny joke.

fourth ID: a photo taken in a different place, indoors, pointed down at the ground, showing a pair of feet in light blue socks covered in horses and their legs, as well as a hand wearing a gold ring with a diamond in the middle.

Fifth ID: a photo back in the park. the adolin cosplayer is on one knee in front of a shallan cosplayer, who has red ginger hair, a green long sleeved dress white pants, dark brown boots, a white glove and a brown bag. they are both holding a green ring pop that the adolin cosplayer is holding up. they are both smiling at each other. the adolin cosplayer has a blue ribbon tying their ponytail and the chain with the white horse also has a gold sword and a black horse, but the black horse is unclear against their dark pants. End IDs]

thank you to @cosmereplay for helping write the first ID and edit the others.

[beansprean]

Happy Mer-May!! Why not an extremely loosely interpreted Little Mermaid au? Starring Guillermo as a harbor seal who dreams of living in the deep, Wallace as an opportunistic mimic octopus, Colin as a parasitic lamprey, Laszlo as a lazy little snaggletooth, Nadja as a vicious sloane’s viperfish, and Nandor as a spiny black dragonfish. Deep sea fishes truly the vampires of the sea.

"Betcha down there

that they don't care

Bet they don't

mind a couple slaughters..."

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Underwater full body shot of mermaid Guillermo swimming past. He has the tail of a light brown harbor seal, webbed fingers, and small floppy ears that are held closed. He has a line of kelp tied around him like a bandolier and is looking around determinedly, brandishing a wooden stake in one hand. 1b. Full body of Guillermo lounging on his side on a flat rock above the water, one arm tucked under his head and the other held to his side like a flipper. He sighs forlornly. 1c. Full body of Guillermo on an algae-covered rock sticking above the ocean's surface, waves cresting around him as he lifts up his torso little-mermaid style and sings out "part of your world".

2. Full body of mermaids Colin, Laszlo, Nadja, and Nandor floating in a line, the ocean behind them very dark. Colin has the slick beige and cream tail of a lamprey, webbing beneath his arms, and gill pores dotted down each side of his torso and neck. He grins and wiggles his webbed fingers at the viewer in a wave. Behind him is a smaller shot of Colin with his mouth open, revealing multiple circular rows of sharp teeth around a sucking maw. Laszlo has the tail of a snaggletooth or stareater, his anterior side patterned in teal and black scales up to his chest, lighter teal scales dotting up his neck and shoulders, and brighter teal fins. He has a pair of gills on either side of his neck, sharp black claws on each webbed finger, and green bioluminescent spots running from wrists to tailfin on either side. He floats with a smug grin, arms crossed and back-to-back with his wife. Nadja has the tail of a Sloane's viperfish, her anterior side patterned in dull garnet and black scales up to her chest, lighter dull garnet scales dotting up her neck and shoulders, and brighter rose fins. Her fins and tail are similar to Laszlo's in style, but larger and longer with a posterior barbel. She has a pair of gills on either side of her neck, sharp red claws on each webbed finger, long fangs poking up from her lower jaw, and double lines of red bioluminescent spots running from wrists to tailfin on either side. She is grinning to show off her fangs, floating back to back with her husband. One of her webbed hands is raised to bare her claws, long black hair swirling in the water around her. Nandor has the tail of a black dragonfish, his anterior side patterned in dark blue and black speckling up to his chest, lighter blue scales dotting up his neck and shoulders, and black spines with translucent blue webbing over his shoulders and down either side of his long winding tail, ending in a small forked fin. He has a pair of gills on either side of his neck, sharp claws on each webbed finger, and gold bioluminescent spots running from wrists to tailfin on either side with double lines on his torso. he is floating nervously, looking around and twiddling his hands together.

3a. Mermaid Wallace, with the tentacles of a mimic octopus below the waist, floats underwater next to mermaid Guillermo. They are wearing a woven vest studded with shells and pearls, a black doppa hat with puka shells, a pearl necklace, a pendant with a claw, and several rings on unwebbed fingers. Their tentacles are relaxed, colored in the usual brick and cream stripes, and they have black claws and small horns above each eye. Wallace grins slyly as they wave their arms mysteriously and dangle a necklace in front of Guillermo’s face. It is a simple braided string with a snail shell on the end, which is glowing bright blue and burping out shiny bubbles. Guillermo, wearing a kelp bandolier with two stakes tied into it at his hip is staring at it with wide, fascinated eyes, one hand reaching up slowly for it. He says, “So…this will let me survive in the Trench?” Wallace replies, “Guaranteed.” 3b. Repeat. Wallace suddenly snatches the necklace back into their hand, cutting off the glow, their other hand planting itself on their hip. Their tentacles darken into black and bright crimson stripes and fan out threateningly in the water as they clarify, “For 72 hours only. And $350 cash.” Guillermo snatches his hands back to hold them protectively against his chest, head sinking into his shoulders in shock as he frowns back up at Wallace.

4a. Mermaid Guillermo and mermaid Laszlo float side by side in the deep, Guillermo wearing his kelp bandolier and Wallace’s magic snail shell necklace, which continues to burp out small glowing blue bubbles. Laszlo bares his fangs upwards and tosses up his hands as if to amplify his voice, shouting, “Fish!” Startled, Guillermo jerks back, one hand half-raising in a readied fist and the other clutching a stake behind his back. 4b. Repeat. With a poof of bubbles, Laszlo transforms into a brightly glowing dark teal snaggletooth fish with bulging eyes, a chin barbel, an unhingeable jaw full of long sharp teeth, and bioluminescent green spots down each side. He looks to be about four inches (or 10cm) long. Guillermo immediately relaxes, unimpressed, and drops his arms while staring at the tiny fish with a “you’ve got to be kidding me” expression. Fish Laszlo squeaks, “Not so tough now, eh??”

5a. Close up of mermaid Nandor in hunting mode, rushing left across the screen, his bioluminescent spots and glowing red eyes streaking light behind as he goes. He has one arm rushing forward as if to snatch whatever he’s chasing and the other held braced and ready at his shoulder, claws bared. He has spiny webbing like a bat’s wing underneath each arm, a spiny fin for an ear,and the webbed black spines at his shoulders have lengthened and spread out like an angry frilled lizard. His jaw has unhinged and gaped open, morphing and stretching his face into something monstrous and revealing dozens of long, sharp, thin teeth snarling and ready for the kill. 5b. Mermaid Guillermo floats nearby watching, eyes bulging out and face blushing bright red as he clutches the snail shell necklace in his laced fingers as if it were a rosary. He is fully into this. /end ID

[the-kr8tor]

Seafoam on the shore

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Tags: Use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW drinking, CW food mentions, TW injury.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 1 >>> CHAPTER 2

You run as fast as you can, your feet flying off the muddy uneven streets. Huffing while a local copper yells at you to stop, his yells get more exhausted every second he chases after you. So far he isn't even near you, one of the few benefits of staying at a provincial fishing town is that the police are either too out of shape to catch you, their bellies round, definitely full of ale. Or they simply don't give a damn about a pickpocket, muttering to themselves how they're not paid enough to do a city cop's job.

Losing your balance, you silently curse at your worn down work boots. Sliding off the ground, skidding off down the streets, disturbing the hustle and bustle of the market. You hit a vegetable cart along the way, wood splintering, scratching your arms. Cabbages and carrots fly off, there's yelling and screaming around you and your legs are aching from the impact.

“Sorry!” You yell back to a disgruntled vendor.

He curses at you and your entire family for ruining his sale. You take a mental note to pay him back somehow when you're not currently occupied.

Digging your heels in, you come to a halt, you're lucky enough to get a hold on a lamp post. Glancing behind, you don't see the cop running after you but you're not taking any chances so you enter a tight alleyway. You know this village like the back of your hand, you have to or else seeing the inside of the jail would be waiting for you in the future.

Knowing there’s a pipe somewhere along the walls, you run your muddy hands along the bricks, the cramp walls touching your back and chest, you stop when your nail hits something metallic.

Your ears perk up at someone snitching, “fuck” without hesitation, you climb up the rusty pipe.

Hands digging into the metal. It creaks and groans, but it seems like lady luck is on your side when you reach the top with no problems.

Hearing hurried footsteps down below, you immediately lie low on the roof. Hiding yourself from his gaze. The cop glances around the alley, scratching his head, confused as to how you escaped without a trace.

“Damn” he mutters, completely winded.

You smile to yourself as he leaves. The sun bares at your back, cotton blouse sticking to your skin. Needing a bath is an understatement.

Standing up, you carefully tread the roof, avoiding floors that look damaged. You definitely don't want a repeat incident of what happened six villages ago. You can never get used to the view from up high, the sea blends in with the orange sky, melting together, blues, greens and reds mingle in harmony. The setting sun paints a picturesque scenery, draping everything it touches in its heavenly light.

Ships and fishing boats float above the waves as if they're dancing to the sound of the water splashing on its wooden sides.

Your hands instinctively reach for the necklace hidden under your blouse. Fingers tracing the etching of a flying bird that you know like the back of your hand.

Despite the open sea, you can't help but feel trapped. The docks beckon you over to somewhere you can't remember, somewhere where you can rest in peace, somewhere across the deep dark treacherous sea are people you can call your home. People who may have been looking for you all this time. Their faces are but a blur in your mind, voices a mere echo lingering in your heart. The pendant leaves a circular indent on your palms as you grip it tight.

Is it possible to miss someone you don't even remember?

Your train of thought gets interrupted by movement from a ship floating along the dock, a large sailboat whose wood differs from each one of its structures. You can tell from how some of it is painted gold and silver like the ones on royal ships, it looks like it was hastily hammered into regular oak with intricate carvings. Some wood blends better together, dark timber melding with ashen wood. Three cannons are lined on the sides, its metal having seen better days, no longer glimmering in the sunlight.

From where you're standing, the figurehead on the bow looks peculiar, like nothing you've ever seen traveling along coastal towns. A fierce creature with sharp teeth opening its jaws, eyes wide and alert. Its red scaly skin adds to its terrifying image. What's more peculiar is the lack of flag flying on its mast. An unknown ship from an unknown place tickles your curiosity.

You slink back down on the roof when a woman emerges from below deck, her blond hair shining under the sun. Another much taller one follows behind her. Raven colored hair flowing in the soft wind. They seem to be arguing, but you're completely bewildered as to how they're allowed to sail. All this time, you can't believe that you can actually step foot inside a boat, moreso sail on it.

This changes everything, you suppose.

You leave the roof, letting the women argue amongst themselves. Expertly hopping from awning to canopy, you land at your final destination, the White Salmon pub.

Jumping down, you land on a cart full of broken fishing nets, it's a miracle that you weren't tangled under all the mess.

Entering the rowdy pub, the smell of ale and pickled fish enters your nostrils. A bunch of sailors sing off key in the middle, too drunk to care about the ruckus they're making. You try to blend in with the drunk crowd, hiding behind people, weaving around them to sneak past the bar and upto the stairs leading up to your room.

“Oi! did ya think I wouldn't notice ya?”

You stop just about the foot of the stairs. Groaning in exasperation, quickly taking off the bandana tied around your face to conceal half of your face. You try your best to put your best smile, turning your charm up to a hundred.

��Hi, aunty Janet” you walk towards her like a child caught with their hands inside the cookie jar. “I got the butter you asked”

Janet huffs, eyes narrowed, her brows furrowed. You place the stick of butter in front of her like an offering to appease an angry God.

“Please don't tell me the coppers will be knocking on my doors again”

“That was one time! Besides I actually paid for this one” you push the butter towards her with your finger. She stares at it like you're giving her contraband.

You give her one charming smile, she sighs, taking the butter from the counter. “You're on thin ice, Y/N. Don't make me regret taking you in.”

“That was a year ago and look, I'm still here!”

“A year and a half, I counted because with every shit ya manage to pull, a strand of my hair turns white.” she points at her hair that's almost completely white. “This used to be black”

“I know, I'm sorry. I just need to–”

“To what? It always seems like you're hiding shit from me and Thena” She tries to hold your hand on the counter but you flinch away.

“Won't happen again, I promise.” A clear lie on your part, you'll just have to be better at sneaking. You vault over the counter to roll up your sleeves, clean yourself up and put on your apron.

“When will you learn, girl?”

“When the king sentences me to death himself!” grabbing an empty tray, you start clearing a nearby table. Janet pinches the bridge of her nose.

After dodging rowdy customers and a flying pint, Thena takes a break with you in the tiny corner of the tavern. She unabashedly sighs loudly, smelling of ale and lavender she hastily rubbed on to mask the scent of alcohol.

You side eye her with a tired smile, Thena sighs again, louder this time, a few patrons gaze your way.

“Alright, what's wrong?”

“Oh nothin' it's just Arthur's back again and he hasn't even glanced my way”

You flick your eyes towards the blonde patron nursing a pint, his green eyes meet yours, he smiles with his yellow teeth and you look away immediately, not from embarrassment, no, but from how you don't want his eyes on you.

Why in the world is Thena so smitten by someone like Arthur who comes and goes into the pub more than he goes inside a bathroom?

“You could do better, Thena. One that actually brings in coins instead of using them all in the pub or a brothel.”

“I know,” she sighs once again. Leaning closer to your side so you slide further away. “But he's the fittest bloke here though” whining, she puffs out her cheeks.

As if some divine comedy, Arthur beckons you over with a twist of his hand. You internally cringe.

Thena gasps, “I think he's finally taking notice of me!” She stands up, sauntering over to his table with the confidence of a newborn deer.

Before you could rescue her though, Janet yells at you from the other side of the room. “Get back to work, Y/N!” She signals with head, pointing towards a table by the corner.

You groan, lumbering your way towards the customers. His large back is turned away from you, brown hair neatly slicked back, clothes looking too neat and expensive for a dingy pub like the white salmon. His companion thumps her head on the wall lightly like she's trying to get water out of her ears. Her hair is cut short, glasses over her almond shaped eyes, clothes equally looking expensive but less neat than her large companion.

Her lips turn upwards once she sees you. “Finally some service” she stretches her legs out, noting how she's wearing trousers instead of the usual frilly skirts rich women wear.

“Sorry, what can I do for you?” You put on your customer service voice that's laced with mild annoyance. The man sits still like a rock, his back still turned away from you.

“Fish and chips, some pickled eggs and a pint.” She glances at her friend before groaning with a sly smirk. “And he'll have plain porridge, no seasoning, just porridge. It's better if it's days old. Right, Miguel?”

The man huffs, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. The single candle light on the table illuminates his chiseled face, turning his eyes crimson.

“A pint will do” his voice is gruff yet calm.

There's alarm bells ringing in your head, the tray falls from your shaking hands. Your heart thumps louder than the clanking metal.

“Careful there, it's bad to drink on the job” His friend’s comment falls on deaf ears as you stare at the man before you. His expression doesn't change except for how his eyebrows lift slightly.

It's been years, surely he doesn't recognize me as an adult, right?

You clear your throat, mustering the best smile you can do. “Sorry about that, I'll get your orders right away” leaning down to take the tray from the sticky floors, your necklace slips out of your blouse, the gold shimmering in the candle light.

He could burn you with just his stare.

Walking briskly, clutching the tray, its metal is uncomfortably cold on your skin. The pub seems to get louder and louder with every footstep, the laughter and rowdy singing makes you dizzy. Janet calls after you as you run up the stairs to your room.

Thinking fast, you lock the door, pushing your dresser to further lock it. Your mind races to the floorboards beneath your threadbare bed. With your bare hands you hastily take the wood out revealing a hollow hole containing your possessions.

There's loud booming footsteps climbing up the stairs. Followed by his voice calling your name.

“Fuck” without thinking, you take the bag from its hiding place, slinging it over your shoulder before you cross the small space to the window.

“Y/N, Please!” He keeps calling after you. “Let me just,” thump, “fuck!”

That's your signal to jump down.

Landing on your heels, you feel your knees aching from the fall. You hear your bedroom door slam open with a force that surely broke its hinges.

You run like you've ran from him like last time.

Suddenly, you're thirteen years old, weaving through the forest, vines prickling your legs as you wade through the thicket. White lilies are but a blur as tears flow freely from your eyes as you keep running without a destination.

Why? Aren't you enough? Did she not love you like you thought she did? What did you do to deserve being abandoned twice?

You're back to the present when he yells your name again. Your heart pounds loudly on your ribcage, lungs burning, you feel like you're about to collapse.

His companion also runs after you, screaming your name desperately.

But you have the upperhand. Using the moon as your guide, you climb up a house, its bricks protruding out of the walls, the place you used to climb to practice, but now you climb it to save your own skin.

Running from roof to roof, you feel a presence behind you. His thunderous footsteps echo into the cold night. You don't dare look behind.

The woman follows you from the ground, her heels clicking on the uneven sidewalk. “Y/N! Wait up–shit!” Without looking down, you hear her fall.

He screams your name again, the same one she called you back then.

You run furiously, jumping off the side only to keep running towards the docks. Panicking, you see a ship leaving the docks, its fishing net left hanging on the side. Without thinking, you make a break for it.

Sprinting on the old docks, you leap the huge gap. Miraculously, you take hold of the net, clinging to it with all your might. Entering the net, you ignore the smell of fish, watching as the place you once called home gets smaller and smaller.

You say goodbye to Janet, who kindly took you in without asking for anything in return. Who gave you a job and a room so you don't freeze and starve outside. Who took care of you when you fell ill to the cold.

You say goodbye to Thena, the only friend you've ever had, the longest friend you've ever had. The same Thena who taught you how to sew and mend your own clothes. Thena who taught you how to throw a punch when a handsy sailor tries to touch you.

Thena whom you've grown accustomed to calling you her sister.

You say goodbye to the fishing town you've only recently called your home.

You say goodbye to the man at the docks who's staring at your fleeing form, whose eyes are narrowed, almost pleading for you to come back.

A/N: There's no Hobie appearance in this chapter yet :( (next chapter though 👀)

Hope you like it, thank you for reading!

[petrichorium]

his eyes are what you focus on the most, in that strange set of weeks that gojo, the newly crowned king (formerly the presumed dead crown prince turned coup leader turned heir apparent), spends courting you.

for a time, you wonder if you’re as simple as the rest, as easy to please. they’re beautiful, undoubtedly; you can see why his ancestors held them to such esteem, it’s difficult not to believe they must be a sign of divinity. he hides them most of the time behind that damned black cloth or an odd adornment upon his face—a pair of circular lenses colored deep black, connected with a frame of gold, an ornate chain attached to the earpieces and hanging around his nape. yet he takes off such things when he barges into your chambers, removes the blindfold and drops the jewelry so that it dangles from his neck like the pendants he so loves gifting to you, and with the way those eyes trail you relentlessly you wonder if it’s so that he can watch you unhindered.

soon enough you realize that you like his eyes for the same reason he hides them: because they give him away.

or rather, you suppose, because they give him away to you. you’d be surprised if he were so careless with his expressions around others—he’s smart, this you know, smart and strong and capable. certainly too smart to wear his emotions on his sleeve in court as he does around you, eyes soft and adoring every time they’re cast upon you. he hasn’t a taste for subtlety or reservation, not when it comes to you or anything else he covets. greedy man, you call him one morning, when the sun’s rays shine through the curtains and cleave great fissures of light across your bed which most resolutely should not be occupied by another. his long fingers curl around your wrist and bring it to his mouth. only for you, he whispers against your pulse, lies to you with blue irises glinting and tone dripping with saccharine syrup as if he hasn't toppled a regime with the very hands he holds you with.

(or perhaps it’s not a lie, perhaps all his greed truly does lead back to you)

you like his eyes, too, because they remind you of childhood. you recall countless times where he’d tug on your hair to drag your attention from a book, your gaze going from letters to that piercing blue. he still looks at you like that now, and you think you might hold his childhood in your palms just the same as he yours. yet despite that familiarity there’s something more you like in the changes—he’s grown so monstrously large, not simply in stature, and there’s a mature air about him that compels you. he's grown, which should be unsurprising; the surprising part is that you're not altogether turned away by his adult self the way you should be.

you still remember the first time you saw him again, that horrible night, and the way that single eye had stared at you. you don’t believe it’ll ever truly leave you. crazed, bloodthirsty, entirely devoid of warmth—unrecognizable to you, the eye of a man who had lost everything and come back to reclaim what was rightfully his. you’d be lying, frankly, if you said the prospect that you were among that list didn’t send a thrill through you, even back then; lying if you claimed your breath caught at the sight of his eye out of pure fear and not something much more shameful.

(your queen had been the first to notice—or rather the first to act, for his eye upon you had been plain for all to see. she’d offered herself for you; her throat or her hand, without fight, to let you go. you remember how he’d covered up that eye once more, how his smile had dropped, and how he’d left no room for misinterpretation of his intent. you think an old hag like you is a fair trade for her? sorry, auntie, no deal. i’ll have whichever of your ladies i desire)

you, to name the lady of his desire. you still don’t know if you’re flattered by it—whether the part of you that simpers at the thought of being special to him, cherished by him, outweighs the part which resents him. it’s difficult to detangle the threads of your feelings, anger and attraction and hurt and sentiment and more all roiling within you so turbulently that you’re never sure which will be most prominent the next time you meet that piercing blue gaze. you wake up in your bed to see his sleeping body next to you and you ponder whether to run off to the east, then you surprise yourself that evening when he returns by tugging him down by his collar and pressing lips to his cheek in greeting. you’re more than conflicted and you know he’s well aware, those eyes piercing like they can see every clashing emotion.

not fear, though; never fear, you’re not all that afraid of him anymore. not when he’s so careful with how he touches you, not when looks at you like you’re the most important thing gracing the halls of his newly acquired castle. when he’s in your chambers it’s like he’s the same satoru you grew up with—the utter disregard for tradition had practically been signature, and he so adored exasperating you with it. if someone had told you back then that you’d end up years later with him courting you, the fact that he’s so bold as to spend the night with no chaperone would likely be the least surprising of the circumstances.

and perhaps you ought to be more careful, more suspicious; your teachers, your parents, they’d all tell you that you’re a fool for allowing such a man to court you. he barrels through etiquette, has no concern for modesty, throws decorum to the wind—not that one would expect anything less from a usurper. he could ruin you, just as he has left the court in ruin, should he decide that playing with you is no longer amusing and choose to cast you aside.

and it’s a frankly foolish decision to marry you, to make you queen over any of the other more eligible candidates. you are good at working the court, this is undeniable, but your talents are certainly far more suited to an advisor than a queen and your title is so very low that you’re practically ineligible—not legally, but socially. he can marry you, in technicality, but you’re practically a commoner despite how indispensable you'd made yourself to the former queen. certainly not somebody to choose in the already turbulent political landscape he’s created. he’s been crowned in the aftermath of a coup, one which he led himself—he ought to be wed to a proper match, a zen’in or a kamo to appease the families or a princess from a nearby kingdom to reforge allyship.

of course when you’d brought this up he’d merely cooed, cupped your face in a large hand and rubbed soothingly at your cheek with his thumb.

“nobody in this castle can tell me what to do,” he’d told you cheerfully. “except for my darling betrothed, of course.”

the unsaid implication there is hardly subtle—nobody can stop this union, except for you. he’d break it off if you insisted.

but… you don’t want to. you’re not sure what it is exactly. ambition, perhaps; the allure of the crown—or affection, the allure of him, because despite how you ought to feel (he’s upended your life, thrown the court into disarray, imprisoned or killed nearly a quarter of the peerage including more than a fair share of his own family members) you find yourself charmed by him; his easy smiles and his schoolboy teasing and even his incessant need to touch you despite your endless lectures on propriety. it’s likely both, to be frank with yourself.

(perhaps he’s rubbing off on you, selfish man that he is, taking what he wants without thought for what might come of it. perhaps you are looking before you and what you see is a man more devoted to you than you’d ever dreamed you might find, who also happens to be a king, and though you know it isn’t what’s best for your country it is what you want for yourself)

in the end you don your ornate wedding dress and you bind yourself to him and you don’t regret it—in fact you’re pleasantly giddy throughout the whole ordeal. you don’t think about how many men he’s cut down with the hands that take yours at the end of the ceremony, and you don’t wonder how much blood he spilled in these very halls with the same grin on his face that he gives to you now, and you don’t ruminate on the number of lives likely lost in the king’s chambers as he’d stormed it. in fact your mind is quite clear when he tears that blindfold from his face, lifts you easily with a single arm around your thighs despite the extravagance of your skirts, and carries you through those connecting rooms to the bedroom where, he swears to you against your skin, you’ll spend the rest of your nights until your dying days.

and if it weren’t he’d surely have dashed any thoughts from your head when his lips met yours, searing and fervent and hungry.

usurper!gojo masterlist

[silkmoon777]

Dove | Simon "Ghost" Riley

A/N: Hello lovely people, I have a backlog of short stories written for things like Avatar: The Way of Water, MWII, Stranger Things, The Arcana, Outer Banks, and many more that I have never posted and keep to myself. I'm talking hundreds of pages worth of fluff, angst and eventual smut - you've got to get through some plot first, though. HOWEVER, if anyone likes my writing and wants to task me with stuff to write, like straight smut, I'm all ears. Anyway, if anyone is interested in reading stuff I could potentially post, here is a snippet for a little Call of Duty fic.

Synopsis: You're to play the materialistic wife of a rich, well-connected husband during an undercover mission. You're to-be husband is a temporary recruit of the 141, who is to supervise your every move. While getting ready, you have a surprising interaction with your Lieutenant, Ghost, who you swear has made it his mission to treat you like a stranger day after day. Until now.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Contains: pretty much nothing of importance, just Ghost being as unreadable as ever, causing reader to have their mind blown by the smallest of crumbs

• • • • •

I look in the mirror at the woman who is supposed to be Lyanna Winstead. She’s the partner of Dario Winstead, son of a wealthy businessman. Everything about Lyanna is a carbon copy of myself. Her smile, her hair, her figure, her voice. Only, she presents herself in a way I haven’t in a long time.

Gone is the tactical gear and camouflage colours. Instead, she wears the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. The outline of the dress is simple yet captivating to suits the old Hollywood theme. Silver cascades down her body, creating the illusion of a mercury waterfall. The sweetheart neckline and thin straps compliment her full breasts and soft arms. Adorning the bodice are glistening silver designs that remind me of old, swirling boarders on French mirrors. The designs fall away, melting into plain silver threads that fall to the floor and pool at her feet. The dress hugs her body like a second skin, only melting away at her knees. The silhouette fit her hourglass figure well.

The silver jewellery she wears is modest so as not to take away from the dress’s magnificence. On her neck is a dainty Vivienne Westwood necklace, the inner planet of the pendant a pearl. Matching dangling earrings hang from her lower lobe piercing. The rest of her ear piercings are small diamond studs and silver hoops. One wrist displays a thin diamond tennis bracelet and a Van Cleef one with emerald clovers. On the other is the only ode to myself: the evil eye bracelet I never take off. The thin silver chain and bejewelled eye thankfully blend into the rest of the accessories. Small rings cover her fingers, few in number and easily ignorable. The bands are thin and any jewels are small and clear. However, one stands out; a breathtaking sight on her left index finger.

Glittery diamonds cover the band, giving way to a large, circular moonstone. Rainbow shimmer comes to life in the milky stone when the light hits it just right. Separating the band and the centrepiece are two small flowers with diamond centres. Two separate rings sit beneath and below the main one, shaped in V’s to follow the curve. At each point are flowers similar the the others, with curved leaves flowing from the petals. All three are gold, contrasting against the silver to make a statement.

I’m not just looking back at Dario’s partner. I’m looking at his wife.

I’m Will’s wife. 

Fake wife, really. I nearly shake my head in wonder. I still look like myself, but everything about this makes me feel like I’m wearing a second skin. Lyanna’s skin. Every so often I stare at the ring in amazement. If anyone ever proposes to me, I would hope for nothing less than the magnificent that is this ring. All that adorns my body is courtesy of Will. Unbeknownst to me before this mission, he’s filthy rich, and a filthy rich man needs a filthy rich wife. All the designer jewellery, the dress, the shoes, and the engagement ring are authentic and top dollar.

After the last touch-ups of make-up, fragrances, and hair, I’m making my way to the courtyard. I’m to have one last briefing and run over of the plan before getting in Will’s blacked-out Corvette. I have to give it to him: he really knows how to pull off a lavish life with style.

Already am I wishing to rip off the damn stilettos on my feet. While I could live in the dress and jewellery, this is the one day a year I’m willing to wear heels.

The air is cool, the last golden light of day painting the courtyard and walls of Alejandro’s HQ in a luminescent glow. A low rumble fills the air from my 'husband’s car. Will leans against it, speaking with the 141. Ghost lingers back by the front door, arms folded and back leaning against a pillar. Weaving between his fingers with precision is a small dagger. His head turns at the sound of approaching heels.

“Was starting to think you were a no show,” he says gruffly.

I stop beside him to adjust my dress. It doesn’t really need adjust, but suddenly being subjected to his gaze makes me anxious. “Told you it would take a while. Gotta look the part.”

The way his eyes travel over my body almost makes me shrink away. Every curve is on full display. The tight bodice holds up my already full breasts, and somehow my waist-to-hip ratio is even more accentuated. Wearing my uniform doesn’t exactly hide my figure thanks to the tight shirts and cargo pants that aren’t exactly loose from my mid-thigh up. However, a lot of me is lost beneath the vests and belts.

“Stop...inspecting me, or whatever you're doing,” I mumble. “Makes me think I need to fix something.”

I begin taking the skirts in my hand as I survey my descent. It’s not too much, but the steps are steep enough to be an issue. The heels on my feet are no help.

Ghost shakes his head. “Don’t. You look…”

“Important?”

“Pretty.”

I stop in my tracks to look back at him, unsure if I heard him correctly. He doesn’t look away or seem embarrassed to have said so. Then again, when does he ever. No-nonsense and prideful in his emotionless character, Ghost is not one to regret his words. Everything he says is a calculated move. Compliments are certainly something to be calculated in a sense, but I don't think of it to be a compliment, even when a small part of me screams for more. I'm playing my part well; there'd be a problem if I wasn't looking pretty. A slow smile quirks at my lips, teasing in nature as I raise my brows. The teasing turns to surprise, however, when he offers me his arm.

“How chivalrous,” I quip as I lightly take his offered arm. Even the slightest contact sends thrills beneath my skin. “Careful, Lieutenant. I might start to think you actually like me.”

Ghost’s eyes train on the ground. At first, I wonder if he doesn’t want to meet my eyes, only then to realise he’s watching my footing. I barely catch a glimpse of his squint.

“I like you in one piece,” he corrects. “This job will be over the second you sprain your ankle on a flight of stairs.”

I hum. “Ahh, there it is.”

He looks up at me then. “There’s what?”

“Thinking about the job, as always.”

As always, I keep my tone light and teasing, but there's an accusing hint. A subtle jab I let slip that I pray goes unnoticed.

There's no room for emotions in this job, and though I've compromised that with the rest of the 141, Ghost is a difficult case. An impossible riddle, a mind-numbing equation with no real answer. Nothing about him should be likeable. He's painfully honest and dismissive when he bothers to speak, he's angry half the time, his attention is never lingering and his mind is an impenetrable fortress. It would make more sense to give in to Alejandro's shameless flirting or Gaz's sleazy grins. Only, it's Ghost that keeps me up at night. It's Ghost, who sends a pang through my chest when he reminds me any care is from pure investment in performance. I'm useful, nothing more.

I can count on one hand the number of times he's thrown me small morsels of care as if I were a stray dog whining and begging for food. Even then, I wouldn't have made it past three fingers. A greedy piece of me spins those memories into something that serves my desire. See, he's returning your interest, that hopeful voice purrs in my ear while feeding me botched versions of what really happened. I know better than to give in to the delusions. The ending of those memories is what sobers me, and it's no different now. I need you in shape for tomorrow. Keep your head in the game. I'm just making sure this isn't interrupting the job. He's always quick to redirect any concern from me to the job.

Maybe, just maybe...what if he was trying to save face? Does he not want to care?

Ghost remains silent for a moment. In consideration or because he doesn’t care to answer, I can’t tell. But when he does answer, his voice has my full attention. It’s low and rough, each syllable laced with something intoxicating. Something I've never heard before and never thought I would hear. Something I want to hear again and again.

“You have no idea what I think about, dove.”

Dove.

The response catches me so off guard I almost forget to take another step. We’ve reached the bottom of the steps, now. The second both my feet are on the flat expanse of the concrete driveway, he breaks away from our linked arms. There is no follow-up, no hint of a miscommunication, not even a look in my direction before he's gone from my side. All I can do is hesitantly trail behind him, lost in my thoughts.

Ghost has never given me a nickname before. Hell, he barely refers to me as anything other than my callsign. When I do hear my real name, it's never for good reasons.

The nickname that pours from his lips comes in a deep voice curled into a sensual tone, sounding like silk-covered marble, low and intended for my ears only. It's strangely intimate—something a lover would purr with lustful eyes and a seeking touch. Somehow it seems to invoke a phantom touch that glides across my skin. Gooseflesh puckers in its chilling wake. In the span of only a few seconds, I seem to experience every emotion humanly possible. Shock, surprise, a sickening, perverse enjoyment...and irritation that I must now join the rest of the team as if a mind-numbing heat was not boiling in the pits of my stomach

• • • • •

I'll get the formatting of posting these to be prettier btw I promise 🙏🙏 But anyway just interact with this or tell me directly if you want more.

[jerirose]

Lady of Sorrows guide us

Twitter / X | Instagram | Bsky | Speed Paintings

[Image Description]

A digital realism portrait painting of Shadowheart from Baldur's Gate 3. Shadowheart is painted from the bust up, she is wearing a black dress with gold armour detailing on the bust, the sleeves drape off her shoulders delicately, held up but thin gold straps. She wears a gold chained necklace with a large gold pendant, with a large circular black stone in it. Her black hair is tied up into a thick plate that is decorated with chains, and she wears a silver head-dress at the top of her ponytail, bangs frame her face. She wears a soft expression, with a hint of sadness in her green eyes. She has glowing star freckles and a scar across her nose that spreads across under her right eye. In the background a large crescent moon, like gold foil glows, lighting up parts of her skin, over a deep blue background that's been peppered with yellow stars. In the foreground some gold glowing orbs float around her.

[cloaksandcapes]

Pendant of Compassion

Wondrous Item, rare (requires attunement)

“This pendant sits on a modest chain, tarnished and worn, but still it holds. The pendant itself is circular and flat with a metal casing holding a light red stone that has been carved into a coin-like shape. There are no other designs or markings on it, but when held there is a warmth that radiates from it.”

While wearing this magic pendant you radiate an aura of compassion. If you have not taken any aggressive actions towards a creature in the last minute, any creature that targets you with an attack or harmful spell must first succeed on a DC 16 Wisdom saving throw. On a failed saving throw, they must choose a new target or lose the attack or spell.

If you have taken any aggressive actions in the past minute, the first attack roll against you each turn by a creature you have not yet harmed has Disadvantage. ~~~ If you enjoy our content, please support our team of four on Patreon. Get access to over 700+ Magic Items, 7 Subclasses, and plenty of monsters, tokens, and more. We also have a free tier!

[corvidkidscreations-fandoms]

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Georgie Barker and Melanie King from The Magnus Archives dancing together in front of a light blue background. It is using line art from @sarcasticscribbles #tmaeyeball series.

Georgie is a black woman with blue streaked black coily hair tied back with a satin scarf so that her bangs hang over her forehead. She has a large blue circular earring and a septum piercing. She is wearing dark blue eyeshadow, a bright blue satin jumpsuit outfit which is sleeveless and has a pinstriped top with a large black belt. She is also wearing a chain necklace with a butterfly pendant.

Melanie is a Japanese woman with blue streaked black straight hair which is tied up in an odango style (small side buns with bangs loose). She has a helix, an orbital, and a lobe earring, and is wearing light blue eyeshadow. She is wearing a blue-grey pinstriped suit top, a blue tie, and black slacks.

They are standing semi-profile facing each other with Melanie's head on Georgie's right shoulder, and Melanie's right hand at Georgie's waist and her left hand on Georgie's shoulder. Georgie's cheek is resting on top of Melanie's head with her left hand holding Melanie's left wrist. They both have a happy soft smile. /End ID]

Okay, im back on the work train with these as i have a bit of free time now. Enjoyed working with these two as blue is one of my favorite pallets to work with.

[theocannibalistic]

Aaaand NPC gala fits part 2!

ID: five digital drawings of original characters, described top to bottom and left to right. 1. Bluebell, a lanky firbolg woman with freckled pale blue furry skin, cow hooves and a cow tail, fluffy ears, brown eyes and long dark red hair in a braid crown at her hairline. She is wearing a cream gown embroidered with pink, lavender and white flowers and pale green vines. The dress has a plunging neckline that shows a white patch of fur on her chest. She also has pale green vine earrings and bracelets and flowers in her hair that match the dress. 2. Agnazar, an older elven person with black hair pulled into a bun with two long white strands that hang past her ears and end in lightning shapes. She is wearing big star earrings, purple goggles pushed up to her forehead, black boots and gloves, and an indigo coat with white buttons and trimming. She is holding a dark brown cane with a purple orb grip in her right hand. 3. Moxie, a broad tiefling orc with freckled seafoam green skin that blushes purple, asymmetrical upright horns, a long tail with a curly blond tip, brown eyes and fluffy pale blond hair shaved light brown at the sides of his head. He is wearing red dragon earrings, gold bracelets and gold rings on his horns, a red cape in the shape of dragon wings, a layered terra-cotta scale skirt, a purple tabard with a black dragon embroidered on it and dark teal leggings and brown boots. 4. Juniper, a wood elf woman with tan freckled skin that blushes green, dark forest green hair with braids and wrapped sections and brown eyes. She is wearing a green gown with three-quarters sleeves, a square neckline split at the center and bright green and blue botanical pattern on the skirt and sleeve hems. She also has a gold crown with five blunt spikes decorated with circular gems and a necklace with multi-colored beads and a stone pendant. 5. Sirocco, a young summer eladrin girl with a warm skintone, frilled pointed ears, orange yellow and red eyes reminiscent of targets and long pale blond hair with straight-across bangs. She is wearing a red gown with puff sleeves, a curlicue pattern and white gem at the heart-shaped neckline, full skirts and a pink tabard with white and yellow accents.

Player Characters NPCs Part 1 NPCs Part 2 (you are here)

[kismetmoon]

too little, too late

[ID: a digital drawing of an original stylised Flatland character named Parallia on a grey background.

Parallia is a humanoid character with dark grey skin, an eye for a head with spiky bottom eyelashes and a point on top, and a tail with a leaf-shaped tip. She is wearing a light grey long-sleeved dress with small pockets and a bracelet with a circular pendant on her left wrist.

She is sat down and looking over to the right with a concerned expression. Her left arm is held bent at her side and her hand is clasped into a fist. Her right hand is held open up beside her head. It has red claws trailing blood that lead down her dress and drip onto the ground.

End ID].

(Parallia belongs to @presidentcircles-assistant)

alternatively styled version under the cut :

[ID: the same image as above, but it is now upside down and a strong red hue has been laid over it. The blood coming from Parallia’s hand is instead trailing vertically down from the claws. End ID].

[cryptid-stimming]

✨ Stimboard for the song 'Sakura Galaxy' by catavee 🌠 for @blorgus-blorg

x x x / x x / x x x

(since it won't let me add the links!! gif 3 is from @/emy.papasideris.art and gif 7 is from @/kingamakowka.art, both on Tiktok!)

[Image description: a 9 gif stimboard; from left to right.

First line: a gif of someone in an astronaut costume pulling an astronaut helmet down onto their head, a close-up gif of someone rotating a resin galaxy ball with star glitter over a bright yellow light, and a gif panning over a painting of a nebula.

Second line: a pixel animation of clouds, a moon, twinkling stars and constellations, a still image for the single 'Sakura Galaxy' with an astronaut floating in space on their back with their legs up, there are circular galaxies behind them, and a gif of someone holding a toy astronaut lamp and rotating it.

Third line: a gif of someone brushing varnish on a painting of a nebula, a gif of someone gently tilting a resin galaxy pendant (with metal inserts of stars and a moon) so it catches the light, and a pixel animation of a rocket flying past planets in space.

End of image description.]