#dete (oc)

[certifiedbundleofsticks]

the gang. the boys. the brothers, even. I'll paste the instagram caption in the comments cuz idk I feel like it

[ruvviks]

"Kaida is one of Arasaka's finest. If you like to keep your head on your shoulders, best to stay out of xyr way."

[nexvius]

father and son...

Finished the artwork.

[kingofbodyrolls]

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | one

🐴Chapter summary: You arrive back at the ranch, a place you used to call home as a child. But it doesn’t hold the same meaning anymore. With the passing of your mother, you stand to inherit part of that very ranch– and you don’t want it. Only problem, your sister doesn’t want to give you her signature for you to sell your share. 🐴Chapter title: Inheritance 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: mention of past character death of parents, exhibitionism, explicit smut in the form of protected sex, quick and dirty sex, doing it against a barn, creampie, nipple play, clit play. Doing it in public / outside. Mention of past infidelity (of parents). Spoiler ahead!!! Jungkook and Jimin are (half) brothers and reader sleeping with JK is necessary to happen for the sake of the plot 🥲 It sucked to write that part, and if you feel like the smut if ‘eh’ it’s because it was written that way because reader isn’t meant to be with JK! So, please, don’t let that discourage you from reading it, the rest of the story is really good and MC realizes she’s made a mistake… anyway the smut with Jimin when it eventually happen, is just 🥵🥵🥵 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 8.2k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog @kiki-zb @babejinnie @ownthesunshine @allie-is-a-panda @glllhjh @bergandysam @13-manggaetteok

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “Theme from McLeod’s Daughters” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: this story has been in my head forever, and I’ve spent months outlining it and planning it– so I’m so stoked to finally post it! 🥳 I love both McLeod’s Daughters and BTS, so why not combine it?? I am not sure anybody will read this story, but if you do, thank you! It truly means the world to me. 

I also want to give a very big thank you and shout out to my dear friend, Lua, for reading it while I worked on it, hyping me up and giving me such fucking wonderful feedback 😭✨ Thank you so much @letjungcoook7 💖🥹

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next →

“I said, I wanna touch the earth I wanna break it in my hands I wanna grow something wild and unruly I wanna sleep on the hard ground In the comfort of your arms On a pillow of bluebonnets In a blanket made of stars Oh, it sounds good to me I said, cowboy take me away Fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue Set me free, oh, I pray” - “Cowboy Take Me Away” by The Chicks

The tires of your car dig into the unforgiving dirt road with a tenacious grip as you navigate the rugged terrain. A symphony of sand and dust dances before the windshield, yet your focus remains unyielding. The landscape is open and inviting, yet there’s tall mountains in the distance framing the idyllic nature. 

The pulsating beat of the music reverberates through the vehicle, echoing the determination coursing through your veins. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, your resolve unshakable. 

Amidst the chaotic whirlwind outside, you're on a singular quest: to get your sister’s signature to sell your share of the ranch.

You yearn to sever all ties with the place. 

It's not a matter of hatred, per se, but rather an aversion steeped in memories you'd rather forget. 

The grounds echo with a tapestry of recollections, most of which cling like shadows to the recesses of your mind—a gallery of moments you're desperate to erase from the canvas of your past.

The passing of your mother, a woman absent from your life for over two decades, casts a melancholic hue over this reunion, that leaves much to be desired.

Separated by the passage of years, your sister remains a distant specter on the horizon of your past. A chapter of familial connection was abruptly closed when your father took you away from the ranch during your formative years, the sprawling fields replaced by the relentless rhythm of the city. 

The city, with its towering structures and ceaseless energy, has woven itself into the fabric of your existence. Amidst the hustle, the stress, the eclectic cafes, and the teeming crowds, you've found a peculiar treasure trove of experiences that pulse through your veins like a vibrant heartbeat. The city's flaws, laid bare like urban scars, only deepen your affection for its complex tapestry, making each chaotic street corner and neon-lit club a cherished fragment in the mosaic of your life.

As an undesired song infiltrates your playlist, you find yourself questioning its very existence on your curated soundtrack. 

Swiftly, you dismiss its intrusion, replacing its notes with the growling intensity of a much angrier anthem. 

The need for focus on this mission is paramount, an unyielding commitment that not even the persuasive tones of Jessi, with all her influence, can sway or alter.

A familiar sign with your family’s last name emerges on the horizon, unleashing a flood of memories from an idyllic childhood—filled with the echoes of hide-and-seek, the warmth of love, and the harmonious symphony of laughter—that paints both your irises and your heart in hues of nostalgia. 

Yet, as your fingers instinctively clench around the steering wheel, you staunchly refuse to be swayed by the emotional undertow. Determination courses through your veins, a steadfast resolve not to let sentiment cloud the clarity of your purpose.

With a resolute spirit, you navigate the winding road that leads to the ranch. 

As the familiar landscape unfurls before you, a creeping uneasiness takes root within the recesses of your being. Despite the passage of two decades, the ranch appears frozen in time, an unchanged picture that sends shivers down your spine. The unsettling familiarity of the place only amplifies the weight of the past, casting a shadow over your determined journey back to a place that seems to have resisted the relentless march of time.

Bringing the car to a halt before the imposing main house, you silence the engine with a decisive twist of the key. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, mingling with the weight of anticipation that hangs in the air. Inhaling deeply, you draw in the essence of the moment, your fingers betraying a nervous rhythm as they tap anxiously against the steering wheel. 

The stillness belies the turmoil surging within, as you ready yourself to encounter the ghost of your past.

A mere thirty minutes— an hour at most, and you'll resume your journey on the open road, bound for the comfort of home in the city. 

Determination courses through your veins, intertwining with the staccato rhythm of your anxious heartbeat, the pulsations reverberating so forcefully that you can sense them echoing all the way to the depths of your ears. 

The moment your car door swings open, a subtle shift in the wind whispers a tale of transformation. The landscape may echo familiarity, but an intangible alteration lingers in the air, an elusive metamorphosis that leaves you questioning the very essence of this place. Is it a mere illusion, or has something truly shifted, perhaps within the confines of your own soul? 

Navigating the uneven terrain in heels proves to be a challenge, but undeterred, you conquer the dirt road and arrive at the tall front door. It stands before you, a sentinel of memories, somehow appearing taller than in recollection. The weathered, dark-red wooden door remains stoically unchanged, a silent witness to the passage of time. 

Two deliberate knocks break the stillness, and you retreat a step, a reverberation of anticipation coursing through the air as you stand on the threshold of both the past and the unknown.

The door frame, once pristine in its white coat, now bears the scars of time, its paint chipped and revealing glimpses of the weathered wood beneath. 

Stationed in front of the door, you endure a suspenseful five minutes, an eternity compressed into every passing second, yet the silence remains unbroken. Undeterred by the absence of response, a resolute determination guides your actions as you seize the handle. With a deliberate press, the handle yields, surrendering to your resolve and releasing a cacophony of creaks—a symphony of protesting hinges announcing your entrance into the realm of memories.

“Hello?” 

Your voice, tinged with uncertainty, dances into the air as you cautiously poke your head through the threshold, a hesitant entry into the familiar realms of the house. 

A gentle warmth envelops you, tenderly kissing your skin and infusing an instant sense of calm. The scent, aged and rich, swirls around you like a tangible embrace of wood and cherished memories from your childhood. The hallway stretches out before you, adorned with snapshots frozen in time—images of you and Jessi playing in the fields, your first pony, and a cherished trio with your mom. Each picture pulses with the erratic beat of your heart, echoing the palpable journey down the corridor of reminiscence. Amidst this gallery of the past, you navigate the tapestry of nostalgia, your destination set on what memory deems to be the kitchen.

The staccato clank of your heels resonates boldly against the unpolished hardwood floor, a deliberate announcement of your presence that reverberates through the silent expanse as you press deeper into the heart of the kitchen. Despite the resounding echo, a mysterious absence lingers, the emptiness amplifying the solitude within the room, a poignant contrast to the persistent cadence of your steps.

Surveying the scene, your eyes capture the delicate dance of white curtains adorned with lace, their elegance offering a stark contrast to the weathered state of the kitchen. Time has etched its story on the cabinets, pleading for a rejuvenating touch—perhaps a cleansing and a new coat of color to breathe life into the tired, faded cream. A wistful smile graces your lips, an emotive response to the tactile connection forged as your fingers trace the countertop. The surface, a touch dusty yet evocative, sparks an odd familiarity, transporting you to a realm of forgotten times and the comforting essence of what was once home.

A sudden voice startles you from your reverie, its unexpected presence slicing through the air like a well-timed interruption in the symphony of memories. 

“Can I help you?”

A jolt courses through your body, a startled response to the abrupt intrusion of the voice, yet you pivot on your heels, meeting the owner of the enigmatic, yet somehow airy, tones. 

In the face of the unexpected presence, you lock eyes with the source, a meeting that feels like a convergence of past and present, each heartbeat resonating with the electric charge surging through your body.

A nervous chuckle escapes you, the residue of your earlier determination dissipating in the charged air as you assess the man standing before you. 

His eyes, a deep and authoritative brown, lock onto yours, unraveling a silent narrative in their depths. Blonde and untamed, his long hair falls with a disheveled grace, framing a face that exudes both strength and mystery. His slender physique conceals well-defined, lean muscles beneath the snug embrace of a gray shirt, each contour subtly hinting at the strength within. Clad in blue denim jeans with artful rips at the bottom, and adorned with chunky western boots boasting intricate ornaments, he carries an aura of rugged elegance. 

“Can I help you?” he repeats, the query hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge. 

Crossing his arms over a torso that amplifies the definition of his biceps, his deliberate posture commands attention, drawing your gaze to the undeniable display of strength.

“I’m so sorry,” you quip nervously, a hint of self-awareness coloring your tone. Inwardly, you curse the fact that you were caught in the act of checking him out, and you’ve yet to acknowledge the man properly. “I’m looking for Jessi?”

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes the man, accompanied by a soft smile that carries a subtle mystique, rendering his eyes nearly elusive. 

“Who are you?” he inquires, his arms still defiantly crossed, and a flicker of realization dawns upon you—this interaction holds a peculiar tension. The awareness sets in that, in essence, you are an intruder, a stranger trespassing into the intimate space of a home that isn’t yours anymore. 

“I'm Jessi's sister,” you declare, a succinct introduction that hangs in the air. His response is a simple “Oh,” a word that resonates with a spectrum of unspoken sentiments. 

As his arms fall to his sides, his posture eases into a more relaxed stance, and his gaze, now unhindered by the barricade of crossed arms, traverses the contours of your figure. Your choice of attire—heels and a summer dress that daringly grazes your thighs—doesn't escape his notice. 

You sense his eyes lingering on your exposed legs for a beat longer than societal norms might deem appropriate.

You find yourself unapologetically appreciating his attractiveness, recognizing the allure that binds both of you in a silent dance of mutual fascination.

“You don't remember me?” 

His question pierces through the air, catching you off guard, and instinctively, you lean back against the countertop. A subtle shake of your head accompanies the inquiry, and as you witness a shadow of sadness flicker across his eyes, an unexpected weight sinks into the chambers of your heart. The unspoken question lingers—should you know this man?

“It's me, Jimin,” he asserts with a voice steeped in pride and certainty, a declaration that sets your mind into a whirlwind of attempted recollection. His name resonates with a familiarity that dances on the periphery of your memory, like an elusive wisp slipping through the cracks of forgotten moments. 

“Park?” 

You question with a voice that wavers in uncertainty, the mere utterance of the name carrying the weight of a fragile hope. As the word escapes your lips, you cling to the fragile threads of memory, desperately seeking confirmation that you've pieced together the puzzle of identity correctly.

“Yeah! Don't you remember? We played together when we were kids,” he chuckles warmly, the nostalgia of shared memories evident in his eyes.  

With a warm gesture, he invites you to take a seat, a silent acknowledgment of the intricacies of your shared history. As he crosses the room to the sink, a subtle limp marks his stride—a detail you keenly observe as you pull out a chair. Your curiosity about his altered gait tugs at your thoughts, begging for expression, yet you restrain the impulse, deeming it too forward. Silently, you observe him reaching for a glass from the overhead cabinet, pouring water with a practiced ease. 

“Here you go,” he offers, placing the glass before you. As you take it, your fingers brush momentarily, and an unexpected electric jolt courses through your body. You respond with a sheepish smile, expressing gratitude for the simple gesture. “Jessi is out riding; she'll be back soon.” 

You nod, the cool touch of the glass against your lips serving as a momentary distraction from the impending wait. As you take a measured sip of water, the realization sinks in — a quiet acknowledgment that the road back home may stretch longer than initially anticipated.

“I'm sorry about your mom,” he offers his condolences, and a palpable pain reflects in his eyes. The depth of his empathy hints at a connection with your mother that might surpass your own or perhaps, he carries the weight of loss in his own experiences. Regardless, you express gratitude, but as you do, a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders accompanies your words. “It's whatever,” you say, attempting to downplay the complexity of emotions that linger beneath the surface, yet the weight of grief echoes in the unspoken spaces between you.

He offers a minuscule smile, a mere flicker that fails to reach the depths of his eyes, and a subtle shift in the atmosphere becomes palpable. A quiet tension weaves through the kitchen, the air thickening with unspoken complexities. It's as if the very walls themselves have become sentient, closing in with a slow and deliberate intent, creating an immersive sense of confinement that mirrors the unexplored territories of emotions lingering between you and Jimin.

The rhythmic clank of boots announces her arrival before she materializes in the doorway — Jessi, a force of raw determination, a cascade of muttered curse words trailing in her wake. 

With an aura of purpose, she strides into the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy that disrupts the tension-laden air.

“Aren't you supposed to be working?” she demands, a subtle undercurrent of anger weaving through her voice as her gaze fixes on Jimin. 

You sense that you've slipped beneath her radar for now. Jimin responds with a casual chuckle, turning his head in your direction. In that moment, you feel the weight of her steel gaze bore into you.

You observe the subtle tensing of her body, her gaze meticulously scrutinizing every inch of you. Arms crossed defensively, she acknowledges your presence with a guarded stance. 

“Long time no see. What do you want?” The words, delivered with an edge that slices through the air, reverberate with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, embodying the complex web of emotions that intertwine your shared history.

Your lips involuntarily tighten, the already tense atmosphere escalating to an almost suffocating degree as Jessi's presence intensifies. A rhythmic tapping of her foot reverberates through the room, an erratic metronome that hints at a cocktail of emotions—perhaps nervousness, perhaps anger, the fine line between the two eluding your understanding. 

“The inheritance,” you utter, and a visible transformation sweeps over Jessi. Her countenance, already frosty, plunges into an even colder abyss. The pallor that washes over her skin accentuates the darkness of her brown, curly hair, transforming it into a cascade that seems to absorb the shadows of her perturbed soul.

A nervous gulp echoes in the charged silence, your attempt to fortify a wavering resolve. The mission is clear — secure her signature, liberate yourself, and sever the lingering ties. The weight of unspoken history and familial complexities hangs in the air, urging you to complete this fraught encounter, hoping that once the ink meets the paper, you’ll leave and never bother her again.

“I want to sell my share of the ranch. I just need your signature.”

The declaration hangs in the charged air, a revelation that sends a ripple through the room. Jimin tenses visibly, gaping in clear surprise at your bold proclamation. Your sister, on the other hand, is barely faring any better. The undercurrents of anger surge to the surface, a tempest of emotions that bobs precariously, threatening to breach the veneer of composure that barely holds. 

She hisses, the sound cutting through the charged silence like a serpent's warning, and grinds her teeth together with a simmering intensity. “You're not getting that,” she declares with a venomous resolve, the words laced with an unmistakable determination that resonates with the unyielding clash of wills in the room. 

The sternness and anger in her voice reverberate through the room, creating an invisible barrier. Undeterred, you summon a quiet resolve and press forward, attempting to cut through the emotional tempest that surrounds her. “I just need your signature, and then I can go,” your words, a delicate plea amidst the tumultuous clash of emotions, hang in the air, a fragile bridge between the chasm of familial discord and the resolution you seek.

She strides purposefully towards you, anger etching furrows into her brows. Coming to a halt just before your seated form, she looms over you with a fiery intensity in her eyes. 

“No. Get the fuck out,” she commands, the force behind her words reverberating in the charged space between you. The air crackles with the energy of unresolved conflicts, and her words hang in the air like a proclamation, leaving no room for negotiation.

Jimin's expression no longer holds surprise, his features now marked by a disapproving shake of his head. As Jessi retreats from you, turning with a storm brewing in her wake, the kitchen becomes an echoing chamber of unresolved tensions. She storms out, leaving you and Jimin in the wake of her departure, the remnants of conflict lingering in the air like an unspoken presence that refuses to dissipate. 

You clench your hands into tight fists, the physical manifestation of the internal turmoil that courses through you. The realization dawns, like a belated epiphany, that her vehement reaction was all but predictable. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, and you slump back into the chair, the weight of disappointment settling upon you like a shroud. This isn't unfolding as you had envisioned.

The wind whips through, mercilessly tossing your hair into a chaotic dance across your face. Grumbling, you navigate the exterior of the main house, entering a realm where nature and grandeur coalesce. The yard unfolds before you, a testament to meticulous care, stretching expansively with paddocks extending for miles. To the left, a substantial stable stands as a regal sentinel, while to the right, three cottages punctuate the landscape.

Your gaze sweeps across the panoramic expanse, capturing the undulating beauty of the paddocks that cascade over the hills while the sun slowly sets. Cows and horses graze lazily, mere dots in the vast canvas of the countryside. The scene unfolds before you like a living painting, each blade of grass, each creature contributing to the symphony of nature. Amidst this serene image, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of contemplation, pondering the labyrinth of decisions that now lay before you.

Jessi won’t give you her signature, and you need her damn ink on that paper to be able to sell your share of the ranch.

Maybe if you get on her good side, she’ll reconsider? It’s worth a try at least.

“Hi,” a lilting female voice disrupts the current of your thoughts, a melodic intrusion that yanks you back from the recesses of contemplation. Your pivot is swift, attention now redirected to the stranger who has materialized behind you.

Her hand extends gracefully towards you, a gesture that transcends the usual formalities. “I'm Soo-ah, one of the stable hands here,” she introduces herself with an easy confidence, her words resonating with a sense of belonging and familiarity within the expansive realm of the ranch.

“Ah, hi,” you muse with a soft smile, extending a handshake that bridges the gap between stranger and newfound acquaintance. Her stature is modest, a curvature of curves, with a disarming smile that reveals a charming imperfection in the form of endearing crooked teeth. Clad in short denim shorts adorned with delicate white lace on the trim and a pink tank top, she exudes an aura of comfort and warmth. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of blue, gleam with a radiance that speaks of love and hope, amplified by the contrast against her sun-kissed tan skin.

“Your trip didn't go according to plan?” she inquires, the gentle cadence of her question accompanied by the sweep of a hand, gracefully gathering her long blonde hair away from her face. 

A chuckle escapes you, accompanied by a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, as you confess, “Not really.”

“You know, this place means a lot to Jessi. It's her home. She wouldn't want you to sell your share for some random people to buy it or worse, use the land for housing or something.” Her eyes mirror the softness of her words, and a gentle smile graces her lips, a gesture that carries an unexpected soothing effect on your conflicted heart. 

The weight of her words settles on your conscience, a realization you had secretly dreaded. You grasp the depth of your sister's emotional connection to this land, an affection you once shared but have since outgrown. The prospect of selling your share, allowing strangers to lay claim to the cherished homestead, unfolds before you, and you acknowledge why Jessi vehemently opposes it. Yet, your heart remains indifferent to the sentimental ties that bind others to this place. It ceased being home long ago, and the notion of it ever regaining that status in your life appears as elusive as a distant memory fading into the horizon.

“Say what. It's late, and dinner's almost ready. Why don't you come eat with us and meet the rest of the gang? After that, I'll show you one of the guest rooms!” Her invitation resonates with a contagious enthusiasm, her voice exuding a warmth that almost verges on giddy. The surge of energy she emanates feels almost overwhelming, a stark contrast to the subdued atmosphere that has accompanied your arrival.

“I haven't packed anything. I didn't plan on staying…” you mumble, your words trailing off into the evening breeze. Despite your half-hearted protest, she seizes your hand and playfully pulls you towards the main house. Reluctance threads through your steps, a tangible resistance to the unexpected detour that fate seems to be orchestrating. 

“There's a guest room in the house, and you can borrow some clothes from Jessi or me. Those heels and that dress aren't exactly farm-friendly attire.” She laughs, a melody of warmth that resonates through the short walk to the house. Soo-ah guides you to the guest room where you'll be spending the night, and then you both make your way to the kitchen. 

There, you encounter another enchanting presence—a statuesque woman, tall and slender, her ebony hair culminating at her neck. Her eyes, a captivating shade of incredibly dark brown, bordering on obsidian, stand out against her lovely fair white skin. Clad in a simple yet elegant ensemble of a dark t-shirt paired with dark blue denim jeans, she moves gracefully around the kitchen, orchestrating what appears to be a culinary feast in the making. 

“I'm Ha-rin.” A casual wave accompanies her introduction, a seamless dance of gestures as she deftly grabs a handful of vegetables with the other hand.

“This is Jessi's sister,” Soo-ah introduces you with a warm smile, and Ha-rin nods in a gesture that suggests a preexisting understanding. “How can we help?” she inquires, her words carrying a blend of genuine curiosity and an unspoken readiness to extend hospitality. 

“You can set the table. I'm almost done with the food,” she declares, seamlessly transitioning to the task of cutting carrots with a professional speed that leaves you duly impressed.

Soo-ah guides you to the location of plates and glasses, and in a synchronized dance, you both embark on setting the table in the dining room. The collaborative effort carries an unexpected warmth, a departure from the solitary routine you've grown accustomed to. The act of sharing this communal task conjures a sense of nostalgia; it's been a long time since you've partaken in such simple yet meaningful rituals. Your dining experiences have often been solitary, occasionally shared with a partner, although those instances are rare occurrences in the tapestry of your solitary meals.

In no time, Ha-rin completes the culinary masterpiece, presenting a spread of oven-cooked chicken, a colorful assortment of vegetables, and tantalizing kimchi. The table becomes a canvas adorned with the promise of a delectable feast. As you all take your seats, another presence joins the gathering—Ara, a tall woman with big brown eyes and chocolate-brown hair cascading gracefully over her shoulders. Her curves and paler skin distinguish her from Ha-rin, yet she radiates the same warmth that characterizes the group. 

The door swings open, and into the room strides your sister, a pronounced frown etching lines of disapproval on her face the moment her sharp eyes lock onto your figure seated at her dining table. 

“Didn't I tell you to leave?” Her voice cuts through the air, laden with an undeniable tension that hangs like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the gathering. 

With an exasperated roll of your eyes, you confront the directness that has always characterized Jessi, even if it doesn't always come across as nice. “It's getting dark, and Soo-ah graciously provided me with a room for the night. I'm not leaving until I get your signature,” you assert, the declaration hanging in the air like an unyielding challenge. 

Jessi's voice carries a distinct air of deflation, and it becomes evident that obtaining her signature won't be a victory achieved tonight, if at all. Resigned, she takes her place at the head of the table, a silent acknowledgment of the impasse. 

A stretch of silence envelops the dining room as everyone engages in the act of eating, a temporary truce. However, the calm is shattered as Jessi, unable to contain her emotions any longer, erupts like a dormant volcano. “Why can't you just keep your share of the ranch, huh?” Her words punctuate the air, each question a stab to the atmosphere, accentuated by the forceful plunge of her fork into the unfortunate chicken.

“Honestly?” You draw in a deep breath, preparing for the verbal fallout, fully aware that you've stepped into a minefield. “I just need the money.” The words hang in the air, a stark admission that lays bare your motivations. Jessi's frown deepens, her disapproving expression not eliciting the slightest surprise from you. 

“Why can't you just buy my share?” The words escape you in a frustrated huff, irritation building with each passing moment. Jessi's ability to get on your nerves becomes increasingly evident, a skill she's always excelled at. 

“I don't have the money to buy you out,” she states bluntly, her voice carrying a mix of blankness and anger, turning the tension at the table sour. Your plate, once adorned with the delicious offerings crafted by Ha-rin, now sits neglected, the food losing its appeal in the wake of the strained conversation. What a shame, you think, as the beautifully prepared meal becomes a casualty of the familial clash, and your appetite dissipates like the vanishing aroma of an abandoned feast.

“Why are you so mad at me?” you sputter out in frustration, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to pull at your hair in exasperation. The room echoes with a tense silence, interrupted only by the subtle sound of your sister's scuff, a precursor to the deep inhale that precedes the unleashing of her fury upon you.

“I haven't seen you in twenty years. You stomp in here, wanting to take my home away from me. And you didn't even attend Mom's funeral. Some balls you have.” Her voice is stern, each word laced with venom, and her glare cuts through you like a knife. To punctuate her disapproval, she slams her hands down hard on the table. “I'm going to bed. Goodnight.” 

Then she stomps off. At least she has some manners, you think, acknowledging the begrudging ‘goodnight’ she offered. Nevertheless, you sigh, the rest of the girls casting pitiful glances in your direction.

You lean back in the chair, contemplating the daunting challenge of ever getting on your sister's good side. The prospect seems as elusive as catching a shooting star, an almost impossible mission. Just as you sink into the depths of your thoughts, Ara shatters your contemplation with a beaming smile. “We're having a party tomorrow. Won't you stay for that?”

You take a few seconds to mull over her offer: a party in the countryside does sound intriguing, but the prospect of extended time with a sister who harbors animosity towards you gives you pause. Soo-ah, sensing your hesitation, steps in with a persuasive grin, “There'll be hot men!”

Then, in an instant, thoughts of Jimin flood your mind, and the prospect of his presence at the party becomes a tantalizing factor. A glimmer of optimism flickers; perhaps attending won't be as unbearable as you initially thought. Contemplating the possibility of a good time, you decide, “Who can say no to that?”

A forced laugh escapes your lips, but within it, there's a hint of genuine enjoyment. Sometimes, you remind yourself, you have to fake it until you make it.

The barn pulsates with the rhythm of the music, a lively mix of country tunes, not exactly your preferred genre, yet the melodies weave seamlessly into the rustic ambiance. Couples and friends sway to the slow beats on the dance floor, creating an intimate atmosphere that, despite your initial reservations, feels oddly fitting. Most attendees linger along the walls engaged in conversation, and as your eyes scan the scene, you notice a handful of men. The girls weren't exaggerating – the company includes some undeniably attractive men.

The majority of women sport casual dresses, much like the one you've borrowed from Ha-rin. Clad in a long black lace dress that subtly accentuates your curves, you navigate the sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces. In stark contrast, Jessi's attire veers towards practicality – shirt, jeans and boots, a reflection of her enduring tomboyish nature. While you entertain a fleeting thought about the silliness of her choice for a party, a deeper understanding dawns. She’s always been more practical, and her choice of clothes tonight might align with that too. 

Surveying the lively scene again, your eyes lock onto your sister, deeply engrossed in a conversation with Jimin, an interaction that sparks both curiosity and a twinge of apprehension within you. 

As Ha-rin diligently tends to the culinary offerings, ensuring a variety of light snacks for everyone, Soo-ah and Ara steal the spotlight on the improvised dance floor. Their laughter echoes through the barn, a harmonious blend of joy and camaraderie, and you can't help but be drawn into the dynamic and diverse interactions unfolding around you.

Turning on your heels, a craving for the crisp embrace of fresh air seizes you. Opting for the subtlety of a quiet exit, you make your way toward the back door of the barn. The metallic touch of the door handle graces your palm with a forgiving chill, a stark departure from the warmth and vibrancy pulsating within. Pushing the door ajar, the night air rushes to greet your face, prompting a sigh of contemplation. 

However, as you step outside, your serenity shatters with a startle – a towering, muscular figure leans against the barn, arms crossed, waiting in the shadows of the night.

A startled yelp escapes your lips, accompanied by an inadvertent inhalation of lingering smoke in the air. The features of the stranger remain elusive, shrouded in the haze, as they release a deep and resonant chuckle in response to your momentary disarray. 

“Scaredy-cat?” he teases, the resonance of his laughter causing an animated jiggle through his entire upper body. Your gaze inadvertently drifts to his well-defined pectorals, emphasized by the snug fit of his ripped tank top. The exact hue of the fabric eludes you in the dim light, a mysterious darkness with a hint of, perhaps, deep blue.

You approach him, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance, though inwardly acknowledging the undeniable truth – you are indeed a scaredy-cat. Closing the distance, your eyes trace a path from his broad shoulders down his right arm, a canvas adorned with a full sleeve of tattoos. Among the intricate designs, some manifest in striking black and white, while others burst forth with vivid splashes of color, each telling a silent tale waiting to be unraveled.

Approaching him, you realize you've left his question hanging in the air. Coming to a halt in front of this enigmatic figure, you find yourself captivated by his deep, dark brown eyes. In the obscurity of the night, tiny glints of light echo the stars above, gleaming in his gaze. His pitch black long hair, with small curls at the end, frame his handsome face. Contrary to the rugged bulk of his body, his facial features exude a surprising softness. Thick, black eyebrows frame his expressive eyes, while a slim, pointed nose adds to the symphony of features. A sharp, defined jawline contrasts with the plushness of his rosy lips, gently circling a half-smoked cigarette.

“Jessi’s sister, huh?” He inhales deeply from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke that dances in the air beside you. 

“Y-Yes,” you stammer nervously, a feeble symphony to the deep timbre of his laughter. Nonetheless, you summon the courage to introduce yourself, your name a tentative melody lingering in the night air.

“I'm Jungkook.” He announces, the remnants of the cigarette meeting its demise beneath the sole of his boot, extinguishing any lingering embers. A subtle caution against the spark that could set the night ablaze.

“You look hot. Want to make out?” His gaze boldly traces over you, and a sudden self-consciousness grips you in the delicate embrace of your lace dress. Your cheeks ignite in a bright red flush, caught off guard by the unexpected boldness of his proposition.

Your flabbergasted expression seems to amuse him, and his laughter echoes, revealing an endearing smile that prompts a soft, airy chuckle to escape your lips in response.

“I'm serious, you know,” he says, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Another blush creeps up on you at his bluntness. Initially thinking he was joking, you now realize he's actually serious. As you assess him, you can't deny his incredible attractiveness, coupled with a nice smile and soft eyes. Perhaps he can't be all bad, right?

You saunter closer, conducting a swift yet thorough assessment of him. With a teasing lick of your lips, you signal that you're up for the game. “Sure.”

In a bold surge, he captures your lips, biting down on your lower lip as if seeking entrance. Yielding to the magnetic pull, your tongues engage in a fiery dance. His hands firmly grip your shoulders, giving a reassuring squeeze before deftly maneuvering you against the wall.

In a ravenous and swift embrace, his lips claim yours, leaving you breathless when he breaks away, his gaze smoldering with a lustful intensity that ignites a fiery sensation beneath your skin. Though not one to engage in impulsive encounters, the intoxicating allure of the moment fans the flames of excitement within you. Reminding yourself of the imminent departure tomorrow, you boldly lean in, craving another taste, and surrender to the intoxicating dance of desire.

As the kiss deepens, his demeanor doesn't exude sweetness or tenderness, and strangely, you find solace in that. After all, tomorrow marks your return home. The intensity of his kiss, possessive and profound, spirals you into a mindless whirlwind, your thoughts dissipating into nothingness, overwhelmed by the feeling of his rugged frame pressed firmly against yours.

His gravelly voice breaks the kiss momentarily as he breathlessly declares, “Your lips are so damn soft.” 

Locking eyes with you, he plunges back into the intoxicating exchange, this time with an urgent and fervent intensity that mirrors his escalating desire, leaving little room for restraint.

Your fingers dig into the firm contours of his hips, tracing an electrifying path along the sculpted landscape of his toned body. The rhythmic play of his muscles beneath your touch is a tactile symphony, every ridge and sinew a testament to his strength, creating an intricate dance beneath the fabric of his shirt.

His lips embark on a tantalizing journey, lingering on your cheek with teasing kisses before reaching your ear. A low, guttural growl escapes his lips as he presses his pelvis against you, sending a bolt of electricity through your body. The warmth of his breath against your ear ignites a wildfire of sensations, and the undeniable presence of his arousal is impossible to ignore. Control slips away like sand through your fingers, and you find yourself succumbing to the irresistible pull of desire.

You bite down on your lips, the struggle to suppress a moan palpable. Despite the lively party unfolding just a breath away, Jungkook possesses an uncanny ability to whisk you into a world of his own creation, making the chaotic celebration fade into insignificance.

His hands explore the contours of your breasts, coaxing a soft moan from your lips. The absence of padding in your bra leaves your nipples immediately responsive to his teasing fingers. Sensations surge through you, and as your panties cling uncomfortably, an urgent desire to shed them intensifies.

His breath hot against your ear, he whispers, “I want to fuck you so bad, can I?”

The firm squeeze on your breasts sends a wave of desire through you. Fuck. The craving intensifies, and the anticipation of being with him grows insatiable. It's been an eternity since you felt this desire, and you're already on the edge, yearning for his touch.

Your response escapes in a breathy whisper, “Hell yes.” 

Your fingers find purchase on the contours of his chest, seeking stability amid the whirlwind of desire that envelops you both.

The symphony of desire crescendos as you catch the melodic jingle of his belt being undone, the tantalizing slide of metal against leather, and the whisper of a zipper surrendering its secrets. Soon, his jeans cascade down, pooling around his knees.

Your curiosity takes over, compelling you to cast an audacious gaze downward, and even through the fabric of his underwear, the impressive outline of his arousal is undeniable. The undeniable bulge hints at a restrained intensity, and summoning your courage, you boldly cup him, your touch sending a low, guttural groan reverberating through the charged air.

“Are you good to go without any prep?” His question, a tantalizing whisper in your ear, sends shivers down your spine, and the resonant, lust-laden timbre of his voice resonates deep within you. 

Nodding in affirmation, you can't help but bite your lip, feeling the promise of an exhilarating encounter ahead. “Yes,” you murmur, a breathy admission to the impending intensity.

As he lowers his underwear, his dick is unleashed, an impressive display of length and girth, veins tracing its sculpted form. The engorged head, flushed and intense, undergoes a few suggestive strokes from his skilled hands, droplets of precum glistening as they descend to the ground below.

His touch is commanding, fingers tracing a path down the contours of your dress, gathering the fabric in his strong grip. Swiftly, his hands venture beneath, reaching the apex of your panties. In one bold motion, he removes them, allowing them to cascade to the ground as you gracefully step out, shedding inhibitions along with the delicate undergarment.

Unexpectedly, he seizes your hips, effortlessly lifting you into the air. As you leap, your legs instinctively wrap around his tiny waist, aligning your bare core with his throbbing dick, a subtle gasp escaping your lips as your wetness coats his cock.

A soft moan escapes your lips at the tantalizing contact, and Jungkook, seizing the opportunity, grips your supple curves, pressing you firmly against the wall for stability. Skillfully, he produces a condom out of thin air, wraps his cock with it and positions his dick at the entrance of your eager pussy. Your hands instinctively clutch his neck, a mixture of anticipation and desire written across your face as you brace yourself for the impending ecstasy. With a devious smile playing on his lips, he tantalizingly teases the velvety folds of your cunt with the head of his cock. But the pretense of gentleness is short-lived, as he discards any lingering pleasantries and thrusts his dick into your warm and eager core in one seamless motion.

A gasp escapes your lips as an exquisite stretch engulfs you, momentarily testing your limits. Yet, the generous coating of your arousal ensures that the discomfort swiftly transforms into an intoxicating wave of pleasure, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

He moves with an urgency that suggests an impending deadline, setting a pace that mirrors a sense of immediacy, as if time is a luxury he can't afford. The reasons behind his haste remain a mystery, and in this moment, you find yourself indifferent to the ticking clock, wholly absorbed in the intensity of the present.

“Mmmhh. You’re so tight.” 

You gasp at the force of his thrusts, feeling the impact resonate through your body as your back collides with the wall. The slight discomfort is eclipsed by the overwhelming pleasure, and his raspy pants only intensify the raw, visceral connection between you, each movement a symphony of pleasure and urgency. He thrusts forcefully, plunging into the depth of your pussy.

Wrapping your legs around him, you greedily pull him closer, breathless huffs escaping your lips with each relentless thrust. “Yes! Right there!” The pleasure becomes almost blinding as he unerringly targets that sweet, sensitive spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure that build an exquisite tension, promising an impending climax that pulses in the depths of your core.

“Shit.” He pants huskily into your ear, a shiver running down your spine in response. The intensity of his thrusts is unparalleled, each powerful movement leaving an indelible mark on your senses. The realization hits you that tomorrow might bring soreness, but in the heat of the moment, with a dick this good, you decide it's a price worth paying.

Your moans have evolved into uninhibited symphonies, each thrust hitting that exquisite spot that sends shockwaves through your body. The coil in your tummy tightens, ready to snap, just waiting for that final nudge to propel you over the edge. “I’m so close.”

Jungkook's grip on your ass tightens, but with skilled precision, he frees one hand and navigates it down the narrow space between your bodies. Despite the limited room, his large hand finds your clit and begins to rhythmically rub it to the beat of his thrusts. The sensation is mind-blowing. Every rub and thrust unravel your body, sending waves of ecstasy through every inch of your being.

Then he leans in, his hot breath grazing your ear, and he moans, pushing you right over the edge, “Come on my cock, pretty.”

“Jungkook!” You pant his name erratically as the coil inside snaps, and you release your fluid over his cock, synchronized with his relentless thrusts. You gasp for air, momentarily feeling your vision blur as your orgasm surges through your spent body.

He keeps thrusting into you, and you feel utterly spent, so you’re just hanging on and clinging to him for dear life. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes as he relentlessly fucks you, searching for his own sweet release.

At a particularly hard thrust, you open your eyes, and they collide with a figure standing in the shadows. 

Brown eyes and blonde hair meet yours. 

You gulp, feeling your core clench instinctively. 

It's Jimin. 

His eyes reflect a mix of sadness and disappointment as they lock onto yours for a few lingering moments. He turns away and retreats back into the lively party. You don’t appreciate the unsettling expression on Jimin’s face, but there’s little you can do about it now. A strange and disconcerting feeling settles in your stomach.

“Fuck, you just got tighter, babe. I’m almost there.” His hands tighten their grip, his biceps flexing as he pulls you closer, syncing your movements with the intensity of his thrusts.

You sense Jungkook's thrusts growing more erratic, a telltale sign he's close. Despite his exhaustion, he strives to give his all in those final fervent moments, and you feel the warmth of his release filling the condom inside you as his pace slows. He's visibly breathless, and you empathize; after all, he exerted himself, utilizing every ounce of strength to keep you elevated. In his position, you'd likely be a panting mess on the ground.

“You good?” He inquires, scrutinizing your expression. Whether he discerns the melancholy etched on your face or not, he doesn't comment. Gently withdrawing from you and discarding the condom, he steadies you on shaky legs. You respond with a pensive smile and a nod. The night was undeniably enjoyable, yet Jimin's forlorn gaze lingers in your thoughts, casting a shadow over the post-passion atmosphere.

“I had a good time, thank you.” You muster a smile, though it feels a bit strained. Whether he perceives it or not is uncertain, and even if he does, you doubt it holds much significance to him.

“Same here. Thanks, babe.” His laughter rumbles as he rights himself, adjusting his underwear and fastening his pants. As he tends to his attire, you scan the floor for your abandoned panties.

As you retrieve them, you notice the dirt clinging to the delicate fabric, deciding against putting them on. Instead, you allow them to slip from your grasp, figuring you'll retrieve them tomorrow for a wash. The last thing you want is to flaunt dirty underwear at the party.

Jungkook strides confidently back into the lively party, and you trail closely in his wake, anticipation and a lingering heat coloring the air around you.

As you reenter the vibrant party scene, a sudden hush falls over the crowd, and the weight of all eyes on you feels like an invisible spotlight, making you wish for a momentary escape beneath the ground.

As you scan the crowd for Jimin, your gaze briefly collides with his, only to witness him quickly diverting his eyes elsewhere. 

A perplexing mix of emotions lingers in his gaze—perhaps hurt or frustration. Puzzled, you question the impact of your intimate encounter outside, contemplating why he might be affected when, by all accounts, you share no significant ties.

As you enter the dining room, the tempting aroma of Ha-rin's carefully prepared breakfast envelops you, offering a flavorful farewell before you embark on your journey back to the bustling city.

As you approach the table, a surprising sense of harmony fills the room, with everyone already seated, including Jessi, who appears to be in higher spirits—perhaps fueled by the knowledge that she’s getting rid of you today.

Soo-ah's eyes sweep the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she starts, “ I discovered a pair of lacy red panties outside the barn this morning.”

You nearly choke on your food, a sudden realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. “Shit. Those are mine. Completely slipped my mind. My bad.”

All eyes suddenly fixate on you, their curiosity palpable. Soo-ah's gaze is practically bulging out of her eyes, Ara looks equally stunned, and Ha-rin can't help but release an amused ‘ooohh.’ Even Jessi, with her usual nonchalant demeanor, can't completely hide the flicker of intrigue in her eyes as she rolls them at the unfolding gossip.

Curiosity and a mischievous glint spark in Ara's big brown doe eyes as she leans forward, her cheeks tinted with a hint of red, and pops the question, “Who did you fuck?”

Between casual bites of scrambled eggs, you drop the bombshell, “A guy named Jungkook. You know him?” The nonchalance in your tone does little to mask the intrigue dancing in your eyes, leaving the table hanging on your every word.

A heavy hush descends upon the table, and you scan the faces around you, perplexed by the sudden silence. Disapproval lingers in Jessi's slow shake of the head, while the exchange of disconcerting glances among the girls hints at a shared, unspoken concern.

“What’s wrong?” Concern etches your voice as you inquire, the subtle panic seeping through, unable to grasp the sudden tension enveloping the table.

Soo-ah leans in dramatically, her words hanging in the air like a heavy secret. “You fucked Jungkook,” she drawls, the gravity of her statement sinking in, and a chill coursing through your veins. “The same Jungkook who's been with half the town—Park Jungkook.” The weight of his name leaves you wide-eyed, a sinking feeling settling in your gut.

Your jaw practically hits the floor, or it would if that were humanly possible. Park? Jungkook and Jimin are brothers?

Fuck.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

Omg 🫢 How did you like the ending??? I hope you won’t be too mad… The fling with Jungkook only happens this one time, but necessary to happen for the rest of the story to make sense 🥲

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[krewekreep]

After the Night Ends Chapter 1

3K Words. Alucard X OC!Reader. Reader is non binary with a femme body. AU but contains lore from Castlevania & Castlevania: Nocturne. Takes place during the last episode and goes from there

Angst, Estranged Lovers AU, Soulmate AU, Alucard is a reclusive, flirtatious snarky brat. Not 18+ yet but following chapters may and will be properly tagged as such. So indulgent I’m adding a soundtrack. Unknown Mortal Orchestra - Multi Love.

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤

Your estranged love materialized out of thin air. A ghost of his former self; a slimmed figure, stark white hair, pearlescent pale skin. His eyes a hollow but peering yellow. Your heart beat beyond sound, a thunderous full body vibration. Although in mid-air piercing his sleek ornate sword through Drolta’s chest, you could do nothing more but falter in stability at his appearance. “Adrian…” you mumbled low. Richter took in your surprise realizing you had not been truthful of your affiliation with Dracula. Or rather, your affiliation was a lot more intimate than you let on. Much of your facade fell as Drolta’s screech and outreached hand towards you gave no fear. Not only because your Adrian was immaculate with his weapon, or the fact he would never let anything happen to you—you could handle yourself beyond compare.

For the sake of achieving your desire of reuniting with your love you found yourself amongst these well-meaning youth of tomorrow. Disguising your age was not difficult at this point in your travels but faking your background became harder as the old world you knew was vastly changed. You had to learn now, with your darker complexion, and couple hundred years from your original background, how to navigate the questions of who you were and where you came from.

The days of knowing the love of your life as Alucard, fighting and joking alongside Trevor and Sypha were long gone. You had already joined them close to the end of their respective voyages latching onto Alucard because of your shared loneliness and troubled background. Admittedly, you wanted to snatch Adrian away into the darkness to confirm he’s the man who’s dangling in the air as if an ethereal marionette. Yet, in a way he was nothing as you remembered. The soft peach of his warm skin, his lively almost rose golden tresses, the breadth of his shoulders—all replaced by a more demure, reclusive, cold countenance. He felt…dead. You were the only one in suspension at this point as Drolta crashed to the ground without a nail reaching you. Her radiant crimson pink embers dwindling with her decaying body catching up to all the time she used. You could admit she had been captivating even if depraved. And as you watched her body wither into the wind a booted foot fell into your eye line. Large, leathered, and desiring acknowledgment.

Now he was on Earth, on land, the same as yours, beckoning you to confront the man you abandoned almost three hundred and something years ago. Your adoration and yearning caught in your throat. How could you apologize to him? Was it actually on you to apologize? How could you explain you missed him but hated him but loved him but ran away? You hadn’t realized you’d fallen to your knees until Richter prompted: “What the fuck is actually going on?” He stood back protective of Annette and Maria, his bulked arm extended as a barrier. You took no notice of him as when the second foot touched Earth you could muster no confidence to face your estranged beloved. “I heard you are in need of assistance,” he spoke directly above you, turning his head stilted to throw “Belmont.” The name fell from his lips in a knowing but wayward tone. “I am the son of Dracula…and I believe you have been looking for me.” Almost a question, hinted with deprived amusement. Everyone’s eyes fell to you who could do nothing more but clutch your chest tightly, wide-eyed. A nervous wreck of emotions. Richter spoke finally “Yes…we need your help,” he was earnest and determined taking in the gaping white of the eclipse centered in the blackened sky. He wavered looking to the ground defeated. “We…dearly need your help.” Richter was the most overtly perturbed. But also the most obviously willing to sacrifice his life to save the world. You knew them all courageous, even poor Eduard you promised Annette to help. It was easy to lie to them at first, everyone was cautious of the other. Yet, fight after fight, you all proved your loyalty and even love for one another. Then, the guilt of deceit weighed on you. You lied to them about everything focused only on your goal of finding your beloved again. And here he was in all his angelic splendor far from how you left him. You were as weak as when you ran away.

Maria joins “We are going to fight against Erzabeth. She has done unspeakable evils…” she weakens to a whimper as the thoughts of her mother hushes the entire group. Richter, now never not scowling, continues: “We are going to kill that Bitch. But it would be helluva lot easier if you join us…” Alucard stood statuesque, as acclaimed a visage as Apollo or Dionysus. A truly remarkable visual that captivated them all. If only they knew how many before them could do nothing more but gawk at his appearance. If only they knew how his skin glowed against the sun, unlike this almost bleached complexion. How his hair fell far beyond his shoulders and bounced with his laugh or his ballerino steps as he sauntered about. 300 years…how alone you had been. How alone he had had to have been. Tears brim but you quickly wipe them away shaking your head. It felt unreal, surreal, a lie.

“Are you…” his voice was soft, loving. “In need of any assistance too? Ma’am?” What? Ma’am? It was sharp and loaded. It was what he referred to you when you arrived appearing as a lost young maiden unbeknownst to him with experience in new identities already. When you arrived in the dark begging for his mercy and somewhere to reprieve. In a long blue ornate dress you stole easily from a paused caravan at the neighboring stop. All you needed to steal was food, medicine, and yeah maybe something to sell. In the unsafe sweep of midnight you saw the torches that lit the garden before the mountainous shadow of castle came into view. You could only make it out as the dark clouds passing peeked moonlight through that reflected off the staggering pointedness of the seemingly alive, angry architecture.

Truly had it not been the dead of night, as a woman (well perceived as such despite your personal desires), and performing the damsel role. You ended up sticking yourself in a situation where you’d need to go back miles the way you came or stick out this con of sorts. You thought to nab a few vegetables but it was so well kept you thought smart of guard dogs or some sort of watcher. Wouldn’t be far fetched someone peers out of the windows of this monstrous abode awaiting a strangers mistake.

You rush past clutching your dress in a hurry. Makes sense to seem distraught, lost, and vulnerable. You knocked softly upon the door which felt immediately futile. How thick and staggering the door was and the real size of the castle sent a cold chill through you. You press your hand to the door because you were sure you felt a pulse, or that rather while you knew it was not flesh—the door felt aware of you. I guess I’ll knock again. You knock much harder this time. Banging actually as you felt foolish becoming annoyed at how hard it was to successfully be weak. But in exchange for your admittedly resounding knocks you lifted your voice to a pitiful, desperate “Please! Hello!!! I’m lost and in dire need of assistance! Any help!! Please!!” Oh how you’d be sure to steal as much as you could. You were about to quit before the hulking door widened by itself. Tired of your persistence the door cracked enough to show a vast gallery with huge winding stairwells on either side. It felt like a library…while life has known these floors there’s a sense that much has happened…but you can’t ignore the cobwebs, floating dusts, and the sense that if someone did live here, they forewent cleaning a good bit of time ago. You shimmied through the doorway as it had not been kind enough to open fully. You stumbled a bit taking it all in.

“Hello?! Apologies, I’ve led myself astray far from those I was traveling with. I can compensate handsomely…” It just didn’t feel like you were talking to no one. Instead of reversing course you were the stubborn, hard headed type. “Please, I…I actually have no one.” You could be somewhat honest you supposed. Becoming genuinely desperate that atleast you weren’t crazy. “I am here in need of food and shelter. Only for a night.” You voice blared across the gallery traveling it’s way into the further darkness of the hallways leading deeper into the abyss of this now increasingly creepy place. Fear, worry, concern crept upon you. Maybe I did choose wrong. “I’m…desperate…but I know an unwelcome guest... I apologize for bothering you…thank you for opening your door if just to bade the weather for a time.” You were sincere. Whatever, whoever this was while maybe not of pure malice or evil was definitely not interested. You turned on your heel quickly about to shimmy back through the door’s crack when a masculine voice of obvious nobility cleared his throat loudly. So much so it stalled your legs leaving you shook to the core. You turned jolted at the sight of a long haired blonde man. A man you could easily claim is 6’3-6’5, dressed in a loose open chested blouse ruffled at the wrists. His broad shoulders, substantial almost bare chest, and his height sent you in a tizzy. You slipped on nothing grabbing at the door with an awkward chuckle. “Hello! Hi! I-uh,” Goddamn he’s attractive. “I’m just here for help. I am in need of food and reprieve, sir.” You clutched your hands to your heart, cleavage corseted against your chest that made your breasts bubble over the arch of the heart shaped hem. You knew how you looked—pathetic, sexy, and in need. You look up at him at a distance that blurs your ability to look him in the eyes. Most men were weak once you looked them in the eyes. Not only would you get what you needed… if he decided you could only take if you gave…you’d consider obliging.

“You could’ve taken the food in the garden…why disrupt me?” He was actually confused. Yeah you could’ve just stolen the food but there was a role to play and now by his presentation being a princess for tonight was acceptable. “I could’ve but I found it lacking etiquette. At the very least a proper request is well within my rights.” You fold your arms now in coquettish annoyance. Poking your lips out a bit in a pout. “I knew someone lived here by the attention and cleanliness of your land. So I just felt…determined I guess.” You throw a glance at the man still perched atop the stairway balcony. He’s unmoving and establishing his disinterest clearly. “Hmmm.” He looks you over well accustomed to a swindler. You were quite obvious as you only had began to even run in desperation towards the castle after scoping out much of the area. You were right, you had been watched. Unbeknownst to you the master of this home watched you wrestle your dress in frustration, curse along about your hatred for being girly, and your promise to yourself to take extra for your trouble. How dare you push out your chest, lift your voice, and plead as if a real maiden. He was amused but more cautious. Had he not known true violating betrayal he’d have likely bantered you into exposing yourself. He likely would’ve accepted your cleavage as repentance for lying. But, he actually was growing irritated with you. Had your stomach not growled this whole time he’d have a harder time even wanting to feed you.

“You may eat and leave. You cannot stay the night.” He was stoic. You had no real emotion or response to play off of so you leaned more into your attempt at flirtation. “Is that right?” You walked farther in now center of the gallery. You were able to see more of his features in the wafting light of the candlebras and chandelier. He was beyond. And you caught the raise of his brow at your staring. “Why might I not rest until morning?” Why not press the issue? While past midnight that meant you absolutely could stay till morning. A couple hours wouldn’t hurt this guy. “I’m truly alone. I would not ask of this with such persistence if I had somewhere else.” You place your open hand on your chest hoping to appeal to him. “One must know shame so please be aware I recognize how lowly it is of me to ask of you anything. I can maneuver the day very well…night…as someone like me…is just simply a danger I avoid at all costs.” This time you ended with the truth. Whether it be vagrants, vampires, night creatures, or the general evil person you knew and seen things that will always send you seeking shelter before the bars even begin to bustle with evening noise.

He felt your sincerity but cared not as you were already deceptive and up to no good. “A young maiden alone…” he was not one to be made a fool. “In the dead of night…” he began to slowly, eerily descend the stairs. Your wolf clawed through screaming you needed to scram. A bone deep desire to flee overcame you as his physique, face, and mood of pure annoyance actually intimidated you. “In a dress of such quality…bejeweled…clean…” Oh no. You realized what was happening. He knows I’m lying. He caught me. “How might I believe you are hungry…only in need of rest…where did you come from?” He is now at the last step before being equal on the floor with you. You babbled nothing as you had to look up to face him. “You must think me stupid. As if a mere commoner woman, thief…” he says with a certain venom. “Would be able to make a fool of Dracula’s son.” He hissed this time disappearing before closing the door harshly behind you. You leapt away from him colliding with the floor. “Dracula??? He’s dead??!” You screamed. “There’s no way your Dracula’s son. I apologize.” You bend your head to the floor on your knees. “I beg of you spare me.” The despair at your possible end turned you into a proper beggar. Rubbing your hands pitifully together. You were strong, you weren’t necessarily fully human but…this was beyond your comprehension.

“Sir I beg of you. I beg of you. Spare me. I am nothing more than a hungry wanderer. I lied. I lied. I’m sorry. Please do not hurt me.” Your mortal pain did touch this dhamphir before you. He would never kill you…why would you need to die when you are hungry? He could only understand you but a bite rose in his mouth. How he had trusted Trevor, Sypha…those other two…he could only resent himself for how easy he was. But tonight you will not disrupt him or his solitude or his impending desire to end his life. Your eyes pooled with tears as you watched his booted, leathered feet planted firmly in front you.

All you needed was food right? A couple hours sleep? Then leave and never return. His mind has been made up. “I do not consume as you mortals do. The garden is actually for the community. I do not horde what people are in dire need of…” he couldn’t help the disgust he felt at your trembling crying frame robbed of all the confidence you just had. How disgusting he was. Scary, unwanted, and forever cursed with his Father’s resentful countenance and his mother’s wondrous love and consideration. How deprived to sink his eye site in the lapse of fabric your dress caused in this pose. From your face to your lower belly visible as your hunched over figure exposed you. Once he was upon you the dress was so ill fitting to your size he almost laughed aloud at you pretending to be of some wealth and awareness.

Honestly tired of your very mortal woman fear he bent to a knee, offering a hand to you saying. “Ma’am? If you could consider my earlier behavior that of a brute…you may eat as you wish and rest until morning.” You began to protest. “No-No that’s absolutely okay. I will leave and it is as if I never bothered you.” You rose without raising your head. “I will leave as fast as I arrived.” But as you looked up directly into his eyes your stomach twisted and your mouth agape. He was immaculate. Gorgeous. Perfect. Son of Dracula? He huffed a chuckle and an incredibly weak smile. He’s trying, you thought. Caught up in the poke out of his fangs, he closes his mouth self consciously offering “Would you like maybe more comfortable clothes? A beautiful dress completely unsuitable for your stature.” He was judging. “Uh-I mean the dress isn’t actually that bad.” You choke out defending your outfit. “No no it’s not the attire at all…” it seems his eyes wandered too low there. “It’s you in it…” Oh okay ouch? “I have had many a traveler seek here for shelter. The kitchen is through the lower foyer on the right. Whatever is there is what you may use. It will have only what anyone has decided not to take. Do not do anything more than that. First and final warning.” He rose from you without another word ascending the stairs soon disappearing into the blackness of the upper hallway. The moment his aura depleted you could breathe again taking a couple of minutes to collect yourself before heading towards the kitchen. You threw a fearful glance up at the staircase walking under it and through to the expansive ground floor. Unable to get the image of the master of this home out of your mind. Scared of him but weirdly yearning deeply to know more.

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

Requests Open

[morganlefaye79]

On this fine monday, and the first day of my 2 weeks vacation. (I desperately needed it) I have some more VP shots from @breezypunk for you. (I highly recommend commisioning her! comm detes)

Valaire Willem Dercks-Eurodyne

Valaire until 2079 (pre coma)

from 2079 post coma

Joris Johan Dercks

Viktor Erik Dorn-Dercks

I always try to NOT pick favourites, but Vicco at sundown 🥺🥰 blows my mind. It is so perfect. Also it is so stunning how you depicted them. A++ ✨ I'm not as chatty about my ocs than many others but to get them still so perfectly right is a real gift. 💜💙💖 Thank you so so much! 😭

There will be a part 3 of @breezypunks VP magic on Saturday.

[poldraws]

*Bonk*

Well Hello there! I'm trying to post more often because here, but it's been taking quite some time to produce art despite being on vacation for the holidays lol. Thought I might share another DND OC I did a little while back instead! I love drawing muscular women and I definitely enjoyed my time with this ol' bubbly tiefling over here! Might redraw her sometime, but idk. Hope you guys like her as much as I do.

What's your favorite DND character to play as? I want detes! 🫵😠

[serenpedac]

Hii, can you recommend TWC writers? I'm new to the fandom so I dunno many writers (for any detective).

Thank youu 💓

Hi anon! Welcome to the fandom ^^ This was a great ask, it was fun to get a chance to talk about the amazing writers in this fandom! 

Some notes:  If someone writes for multiple pairings, I mention the one that is my favourite of theirs first. This list only has writers who post their work on Ao3, since that’s my preferred place to read fic. Some of the people on this list are not (as) active in the fandom atm, but their work is still very much worth reading! One final caveat is that there are many other writers that I love, but argh, this list was already getting very long haha

Alright, enough rambling, here’s a list! I hope you’ll have fun reading <3

SerialChillr (@serial-chillr) – Detective/Mason, Detective/Nate – Amazing writing, obviously, but I wanted to highlight the way Serial writes relationships. The gradual development of intimacy, opening up, ah, just everything. Also, excellent smut!

firebreathing_bitchqueen (@thee-morrigan) – Detective/Nate, Adam/Nate, Detective/Ava, Detective/Morgan, Detective/Felix – First of all, I love Katie’s N-mancing detective Holland. Self-reliant and sarcastic, she plays off of Nate really well. Other than that, Katie’s prose is always a joy to read and her writing feels very immersive!

cryptidlibrarian (@vryptidart) – All pairings (ignoring gender options), including Detective/Farah and OC/Nat – What I love most about Salt’s writing is how they bring their stories and characters to life, whether that’s in their stories that expand on the world of Wayhaven or in their various AUs. Their stories always feel imaginative and vibrant!

aeruh (@sealriously-sealrious) – Detective/Felix – This writer currently only has one TWC fic online (though I saw a WIP snippet for another one), but oh, the way they write F is so good! Nuanced and with a great character voice. I’ve also read a few of their works for their other fandom, which were also very good, so I’m happy to recommend them.

Arcane_Apparition (@agnt-sexysuavewell) – Detective/Nate – I’ve some catching up to do on this writer’s fic, but ones I have read have been wonderful. The feels! The turns of phrase! I also feel they have such a good understanding of N’s character. 

evil_bunny_king (@evilbunnyking) – Detective/Nate/Ava (poly as well as LT), Nate/Ava, Detective/Nate, Detective/Adam – Listing my favourite pairing here was a bit of a struggle, as all Bunny’s writing is gorgeous. The atmosphere, the beautiful prose, the insight into different characters and their relationships to one another. Masterful writing!

forest_creatures (@whalesfall) – Detective/Nate, Adam/Nate – Again, beautiful prose, but I also really like how their writing goes into a slightly darker direction at times, focusing on the vampire’s need blood. Because, let’s be honest, there’s something very sexy about drinking someone else’s blood. Seeing this writer return to the fandom when book 3 came out made me very happy!

plasticdodecagon (@wayhavenots) – Detective/Nate, Detective/Morgan, Detective/Ava – Great dialogue! Seriously, PD’s character interactions are so well-written, whether they are lighthearted or more angsty, they always feel very realistic. Just a heads up, I think she has a couple fics here on tumblr that are not on Ao3.

Lykegenia (@lykegenia) – Detective/Nate – Lovely writing that just flows wonderfully  and is a delight to read. The relationship dynamic between Nate and her detective, Leah, is so good, but what I love most is how she captures Nate’s character.

shahrazade (@ava-du-mortain) – Detective/Ava, Detective/Morgan, Detective/Nat, Detective/Morgan/Ava (LT), Detective/Farah – Very varied writing, from angsty snippets to sweeter ones to horror, and all of them have some very poetic turns of phrase in them. Also, Nairuz captures all members of UB really well!

narrativefoitrope (@narrativefoiltrope) – Detective/Mason, Detective/Nat, Detective/Ava – The soft angst of Erin’s Winter/Mason pairing hurts so so good! They explore what a detective choosing to remain human means in such a heartbreakingly intimate and thoughtful way. On a more general note, I really like the dynamics of all their pairings (narrative foils indeed).

Ejunkiet (@ejunkiet) – Detective/Mason, Nate/Adam, Detective/Nate, Detective/Ava, Detective/Morgan, Detective/Falk – My favourite thing about EJ’s writing is how the trust and intimacy comes across so well. There is some excellent smut in here, always with feelings shining through, whether those feelings are spoken (or even acknowledged) or not. I very much admire how EJ makes me feel those, ehm, feels!

qbrujas (@queerbrujas) – Detective/Nate, Detective/Morgan, Detective/Nat, Detective/Ava, Detective/Felix – Stunning prose that always feels so intense. As in, the emotions are felt very strongly, pulling me along, and I’m here for it. Silv also has great interpretations of N in general.

natehsewell (not on tumblr anymore?) – Ava/Nat, Detective/Nate, Detective/Ava, Detective/Adam – The kind of writing that makes my heart ache, because it’s so beautiful. It’s like poetry that makes you want to read it over and over.

In case you’re interested in recs for individual fics, here and here are my End of Year Fic Rec Lists from the past two years. 

As a final, gentle note, I’m sure these writers would be overjoyed to get a comment if you’ve read and enjoyed their writing.

[swearingcactus]

OC INTERVIEW : Lil V :)

thanks for the tag @v-eats-bugs (and @elvenbeard's post that reminded me that I have yet to do this even though I was tagged!) get ready for your local little guy answering some of your q's (this pic was supposed to just be a cover but it does make him look like he's answering these before bed in his jammies, which could fit too)

🔸Name?🔸 "Contrary to popular belief, it's not a pasta brand, but I would neither confirm or deny any guesses."

There's been wild rumors that he's changed his name to Vitoli or Viagra (Jackie's fault for that one) but nope, his name's still Vincent. His last name's Woodman or some other boring generated name hospitals print out for babies with no parents claiming them, so he never went by it. Great decision on his end, cus "Vincent Woodman-or-similarly-boring-sounding-last-name" sounds more like an accountant than a cool merc.

🔸Nickname?🔸 "Just V."

Before Atlanta, some 'friends' burned him and used him as scapegoat for a gig and he landed in prison because of it. His efforts to erase the records and leave much earlier than his sentence bankrupted him; but he got out and decided to wipe his slate clean. What better way to start a new life than with a new (technically just chopped down) name?

🔸Gender?🔸 "🤨📸"

Cis male. But he thinks it's weird if people gotta ask that.

🔸Star sign?🔸 "Aw fuck, I gotta ask Misty for that, I keep forgetting which one I am. Hang on."

This is totally not a cop-out cus i haven't played phantom liberty and therefore am still unsure when is his canon birthday. Either way he doesn't care about it that much.

🔸Height?🔸 "5'8 which I've heard is 173cm."

173cm is NOT 5'8, he's lying or simply getting it wrong, and frankly for night city denizens, that's more amusing to ponder than his height.

🔸Orientation?🔸 "Oh ;) I'm not picky! ;) heheh wait i mean 🤨📸"

Sometimes his excitement at the prospect of getting laid by hot men and women makes him forget to act cool and nonchalant about being bi.

🔸Nationality/Ethnicity?🔸 "I mean I'm pretty sure I gotta be somewhat white, but never knew the detes. Not gonna pay a corpo for them to tell me about it either, cus what do they know?"

He has a paler complexion, but sometimes his features on the right lighting kinda play tricks on you. With him being from Heywood and no parents to speak of, he has no idea if he could actually be part Hispanic or Asian or any other ethnicity. Obviously, he could pay to get some 2077 "hyper-accurate" version of 23andMe but he thinks that's bull and way too easy to fake. Totally just that and not cus he gave up on the idea of biological families anyways, nope.

🔸Fave fruit?🔸 "I dunno, never really had anything 'ganic 'cept some grapes and they were really sour, so probably not those. Pears are okay, I guess."

🔸Fave season?🔸 "Winter. Atlanta sucked but they had better winters."

Atlanta's winter was colder than Night City's, so the idea of spending the holidays just cold and broke with crippling loneliness sounded too horrible. He attempted to avoid this by treating himself to a 'real' white christmas experience, tried ice skating and making snow bunnies when it did snow and got hot chocolate and even bought himself some overpriced present and all that. Atlanta didn't work out, but he did like winter coming out of it, and he gets nostalgic of it when the holiday season come around.

🔸Fave flower?🔸 "Sunflowers. Oh, but cherry blossoms are really pretty too, even when they're just holos."

He doesn't tell this story much, but when he got out of prison, the field next to the road was riddled with dying sunflowers. Nothing welcomed him out of the gutter but those shriveled plants right next to ones that were done blooming couple weeks ago. If he had been able to get out earlier, he could've seen at least some of them in bloom. It should be a bitter thought and memory, but he found walking next to them very comforting. He has a soft spot in his heart for them ever since.

🔸Coffee, tea, hot chocolate?🔸 "Well not coffee, and not tea, so I guess hot chocolate it is. Actually, you have that iced?"

He used to think he's a coffee guy but dating Kerry made him realize the canned coffee he drinks are just sugar with a hint of caffeine flavor. (he hated the black ganic stuff Kerry drinks but powered through that One Time) In general though, he likes cold drinks more than hot ones.

🔸Average hours of sleep🔸 "I'd like to say 8 but I know that'd be lying. Probably closer to 5 or 6."

Don't get him wrong, he gets on the bed. He just scrolls his phone for hours after and doesn't sleep immediately when he gets on it is the problem. He falls asleep closer to 2-3AM, then wakes up at 8 or 9. This is a real issue if he stays the night over with Panam at camp, since the Aldecaldos are mostly early birds.

🔸Dog or Cat person?🔸 "Oh cat, definitely. Have you seen my cat Nibbles?" *queues up 100+ picture slides of her directly to your holo*

🔸Dream trip?🔸 "Antarctica, maybe? Heard it's kinda peaceful over there, and it'd be even colder than Atlanta so hell yeah, could get all cozy, bundled up and waddle around there for a bit."

🔸Fave Fictional Character🔸

to reiterate this post , he found a copy of Toy Story 4 and made fun of how Duke Caboom sounded like a chipper, Canadian version of Johnny. Then the whole 'guy who failed a stunt and got thrown in the trash because of it, is actually deeply terrified about the entire experience but still continues to be a happy dude' hit too close to home.

🔸Number of blankets they sleep with🔸 "??? People sleep with multiple blankets??"

Just one. He gets too cold even with it when he gets even sicker from the relic, so he sleeps with fuzzy socks too now. The idea of two blankets for one person never occurred to him.

🔸Random fact🔸 "Okay, I'm only gonna tell you this 'cus I'm back in Night City, and enough time has passed that no way anyone can actually get anything to stick to me... but back in Atlanta, I used to crash weddings. Not even for gigs, was just trying to avoid spending eddies on meals. It's really easy to just sneak in, especially if you wear some black cardigan, or flash a digital lanyard, or just walk really fast and with purpose. They just assume I'm part of the event organizer or one of the catering team, and let me in. Then you just act like you've been invited, grab a plate and mingle with some guests who don't look important. Was better entertainment than BDs too, hearing all the stuff about the bride and groom from different tables. Sometimes I just let slip some gossip I heard from another group to the current one I'm mingling with, and shit would hit the fan real quick, which means I get to delta nice and quiet. I wish I could stay for more of 'em, Atlanta weddings end a lot more in fist-fights than Night City ones, that's for sure."

Yeah so he might not know or realize this detail, but he most definitely was the reason those fist-fights happen and was part of the reason for the spike in divorce rate in Atlanta for a bit.

phew that was a lot of words. no pressure tagging @mail-me-a-snail @glitchinginthegarden and anyone else who'd like to join but haven't been tagged! :)

[kossamer]

"Wrong answer."

Recommended piece: Houdini - Foster the people

My first post!  - This is my new art account, nice to meet you all! This account is mainly for me to keep track of my improvement and keep my motivation up, with commissions as my long term goal :) so feel free to follow, like and share, especially if youre someone just like me so we help each other out! Please repost with credit! I will mostly be posting OCs (mainly from SWTOR, my comfort game (you should play it too)), but I might also draw other stuff I like (genshin, HSR, OW, some other anime) - I am also active on other social media accounts (where I might slip in a meme and share about my art journey) so feel free to check out my bio for links! Got questions or just want to chat? Inbox me!

instagram: kossamer_art Deviantart: KossamerArt X (twitter): KossamerArt

-

Note: Man I wish I draw quicker. Its not like its bad taking my time but each piece takes like 8-12 (disjointed) hours when it looks like it could be done in 5 hours? let me know in the comments how long an average piece should take -_- (ball park)

I havent even told anyone the detes about this character, but this bitch a Mestre Ensinador in our galaxy

[aggravateddurian]

Freerunners!! for wip game

Thanks for the ask!

Freerunners is an original speculative fiction universe devised and written by me!

Freerunners is set in our future (approx. 2470), in a galaxy where humanity fell into a dark cyberpunk age, but managed to pull itself out with the unlocking of a future among the stars. It shares a timeline with my other original speculative fiction universe, Subsurf.

The story blends elements of cyberpunk (notably: cyberware, evil corporations ruining peoples' lives, vexes: a technology similar to braindances, but more inspired by BTLs from Shadowrun, and the whole high tech, low life feel of the universe), moderately hard science fiction like The Expanse and makes concessions towards unrealistic tech like jump drives for the sake of the story.

Full detes below the cut:

The story itself follows the crew of the Independent Contractor high-endurance courier ship 'IC Isthmus' as a simple cargo mission to deliver a replacement rocket engine to a Capellan intelligence officer (Moses Marcellus Booker, who I have always imagined as being played by Idris Elba, so screw you CDPR I thought of it first!) drags them into a complicated series of interweaving and competing interests and designs between the galactic powers.

The crew of the Isthmus comes from a variety of backgrounds. Some have clear inspirations, others are completely original creations.

Captain Connor 'Truck' Pearce - a war veteran and the captain of the Isthmus. Fiercely protective of his crew, and dealing with PTSD after losing his arm during the war. He's a native of the United Arcturian Colonies.

Zoe Alvarado - a former scrapyard techie from the ass-end of the resort planet Paraiso, who learned to fly from her grandma before being recruited by Truck. Chief inspirations: Avril 'Scrap Queen' Mead (Ace Combat 7) and Judy Alvarez (Cyberpunk 2077). Citizen of Paraiso, a free planet under Arcturian protection.

Jaidyn Armas - a webcrawler (net specialist, think netrunner or decker) from Paraiso's largest city, New Emerald. She worked as a net technician in New Emerald's biggest brothel for a while. She joined Truck's crew when Truck and Zoe helped her escape a deadly situation. Jaidyn and Zoe are in a relationship. Chief Inspirations: Valerie Ocampo-Gonzalez (Cyberpunk 2077 OC). Citizen of Paraiso.

Noah 'Chief' Rodriguez - a loadmaster, and a former Warrant Officer in the United Republic Space Force. He was Truck's first crewmate, having joined him after working a stint with Truck for Transstellar Spaceways. Noah is in a relationship with Cory Morgan, another crewman. Citizen of the United Republic of Earth Colonies.

Cory Morgan - a space nomad. He's a webcrawler, or at least, has the cyberware to be a webcrawler, but his true speciality is in astrogation. When he's not keeping the FTL computer running, he's arguing with Jaidyn about nerd shit. Citizen of the Commonwealth of Capella.

Isiah Larson - a former Capellan Navy medic who joined the crew on Terra Nova. Larson is a snarky, quippy man, who uses humour to put people at ease, a talent he picked up during the Capellan war with the Star Rakers, a large nation of pirate space nomads.

Slate - Slate is... Slate. She's a 6'7" beast, equipped with state of the art combat cyberware and has been bioengineered for peak physical performance. She is known for her husky, monotone voice, and her freakish combat performance. Only Truck could accidentally recruit a supersoldier. There's one problem, she can't explain how she got the way she was, or even who she is, because her memories are sealed behind some kind of neural lock technology. Isiah believes that she might be a corporate weapons experiment, given much of her cyberware is produced by Kagiyama-Soryu.

Chapter 1 'Disengage' is finished, but is stuck in editing hell. Chapter 2 'Replacement Parts' is about 10% finished. I'll be posting these soon.

All things Freerunners can be found on by sideblog @durianwritesoriginalfic, or by following the original setting: freerunners tag.

[certifiedbundleofsticks]

2024-10-03 art dump. not too fond of these but we cringe on

[ruvviks]

failure, ghost and monster for vincent, cato and eddie 👀👀

oc asks!

FAILURE: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?

to cato herself, her greatest failure is not realizing one of her squadmates was betraying kang tao. she still believes she should've seen it somehow because then kang tao wouldn't have had to hunt her and the rest of the squad down at all; to her it feels like she let down the rest of her squad, her friends, and they're all most likely dead now because of it

she hasn't been able to let go of any of it yet and mostly doesn't talk to people about any of it either, not wanting to bother them with it. she does eventually end up asking vitali for more help, which he of course is more than willing to do

GHOST: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

cato is still haunted by her old squadmates from kang tao and it will probably take another while before she will be able to let them go. she still often finds herself thinking of a funny remark to say in response to something that one of them would've liked, or ends up buying lunch for herself and one of her squadmates completely on autopilot when in the store. it's been years at this point but because she's never allowed herself to fully work through any of it, they're still a pretty big part of her life even when she doesn't fully realize this herself

MONSTER: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

cato is not monstrous in any way. her alignment with kang tao could be seen as monstrous by some but all she ever wanted to do was to be able to provide security to people who needed it; nothing more, nothing less

FAILURE: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?

eddie doesn't really have any big failures in his life. some people could say that his failed marriage is one, but to eddie it's not necessarily all that failed since they're still on speaking terms with their ex and they have shared custody of their daughter

GHOST: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

eddie isn't much of an overthinker but his way into the mercenary life is still something that haunts him a little bit. i still haven't gotten the detes of the situation down entirely but he had never killed anyone before that and then suddenly found himself with a dead body at his feet and while he acted entirely out of self defense and it was unavoidable, he can't get it out of his head

MONSTER: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

eddie is also not monstrous at all they're a sweetheart <3

FAILURE: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?

to vincent, his greatest failure is allowing t-bug and jackie to die. he still blames himself for their deaths and feels like it could've all been so easily prevented and he will never stop beating himself up for it

he also sees him losing contact with his siblings as a failure because he misses them a lot :( he wouldn't know how to get back in touch with them and thus hasn't done that yet, but there's something i got planned for the timeline that will get him back with his family soon enough >:^)

GHOST: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

vincent is still haunted by the memories of t-bug and jackie, but he's also haunted by johnny in a way. he still has the man's voice in his head, and it's definitely not johnny anymore but it feels like it's him to vincent. his friends would definitely be aware of that but it's very difficult to talk to him about it because he doesn't want to hear about the possibility of it not being johnny; he's scared of the voice going away and the silence in his head can be so overwhelming at times

MONSTER: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

vincent often thinks of himself as a monster because of several of his friends being dead and he blames himself for it, but really he is a little guy. look at him. that's not a monster that's a sweet little angel boy with crippling anxiety. he needs a nap

[nexvius]

flower of evil

draw Minoru to the song daugther of evil/servant of evil.

[nyoxt-was-here]

I posted 6,055 times in 2022

That's 6,055 more posts than 2021!

16 posts created (0%)

6,039 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@violet-amet

@skullchicken

@raemanzu

@queen-tabris

@antiqueanimals

I tagged 861 of my posts in 2022

#dragon age - 278 posts

#shadowrun - 87 posts

#star wars - 39 posts

#the owl house - 24 posts

#fallout 4 - 24 posts

#body horror - 22 posts

#pathologic - 20 posts

#shadowrun hong kong - 19 posts

#oc ask game - 17 posts

#video - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 97 characters

#maybe i should just start something and sit through it no matter how low quality it will come out

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Sorry I'm bad at drawing but your Ram headcannons are too sad. He has now been adopted and the hugs will continue until morale improves.

AWWWW that is super sweet, thanks! Morale-improved ! Also HA hug back! >:]

7 notes - Posted September 18, 2022

#4

Emoji ask for Ram the Man! If you like of course, not obligated to. I want to read the juicy detes! 😨 FEARFUL,🍰 CAKE SLICE, 🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL, 🔫 PISTOL. Feel free to answer these however you like! And pick and choose whatever you prefer to answer the best! Thanks for the many asks before, it's so much fun to share oc stuff with others! Have fun~!

Yeeeee, thx a lot for the ask! :3

😨 FEARFUL - when scared, do they go into "flight" or "fight"? When he was a kid he used to run away and hide from things that scared him. Or completely freeze if escape was impossible. In adult life he's hard to scare and prone to "fight" response. But some situations still can cause him to freeze or become unresponsive.

🍰 CAKE SLICE - favorite cake flavor? are they specific about types of cakes? Every cake flavor! He is probably oblivious to the fact that cakes have "types" and just enjoy whatever is offered or sparks his interest.

🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people? Ram is literally terrified of showing others(and himself tbh) his anger. And he's got a loooot of it pent up. Duncan is an exception though, because Ram knows that Duncan is not afraid of him and won't think of him less for a bunch of harsh words or a heated argument. In the same manner Ram is afraid to show others his violent side. That's partly the reason he build Beartrap- to try and relocate his violent impulses into the machine. (but since I love the trope of "local sunshine is enraged, deranged and covered in blood" too much, you can be sure that situations where he lost it and teared someone into shreds- happened >:]

🔫 PISTOL - do they trust people easily? how easily will they turn their back to someone? have they been backstabbed before? will they betray someone if given an ultimatum? He's been backstabbed a number of times! Most painful betrayal was by his parents, and the most impactful one was by a friend who got him into some corporate mess and ended with him in prison. So yeah ✨trust issues✨ And since Ram is perfect at hiding his true feelings- he usually pretends to trust someone completely but internally he's prepared for the worst outcomes. But once his trust is genuinely earned- he is infinitely loyal and it is almost impossible to convince him to betray that person.

7 notes - Posted September 13, 2022

#3

☄️ COMET & ❇️ SPARKLE for the oc emoji ask for Ram? :]

Heeeeeyyyyyy thanks for the ask! :D

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

Ram knows how to keep himself to appear as non threatening as possible, so most of the time people assume that he is a chill easy going and social dude. Which is true except sociability . On the sadder side- people usually think that he is having everything under control and handling pain and stress very well, but in reality he is just very good at hiding his negative emotions.

People with biases or enemies usually assume that he is stupid, lazy or weak- which is as wrong as it could get buuuut he prefers to be underestimated

Also people tend to assume, that he is very huggable and it is absolutely correct this man is a perfect hug-giver XD

❇️ SPARKLE - what is their most prized possession? what do they value?

On the moment of the plot- it's the Cat-thing!

That's a little custom drone he feverishly constructed right after he was let out of prison. It is objectively not good, made of cheap parts, runs on pirated software for a house companion drone (guess which animal XD ), breaks easily and can be quite annoying sometimes. Ram often remarks that he should take it apart for spare parts or throw it in the junk "where stupid thing belongs", but he fix it every time, looks worried if it's not around and absent-mindlessly pets it even though it can't feel touch

It is like accidental emotional support animal. And Ram refuse to acknowledge that he value Cat-thing despite the obvious

8 notes - Posted September 10, 2022

#2

so, what was Ram like as a kid? ^^

Aw, thanks a lot for the ask :3

Izak's (since he didn't get his neat street name yet) childhood was unhappy to say it lightly- he came from a town, where the population of goblinized people was minimal, so he got unfair share of bullying from other kids and adults alike. Also his (human) parents wasn't happy to suddenly get a troll baby, and treated him as a "trial from God" or a "curse". He tried desperately to be The Perfect Child to get some droplets of positive attention, but to no avail. Sooo he was smol, lonely, traumatized, terrified of almost everybody, avoiding conflicts at all costs and had no self-esteem whatsoever And for the appearance- I got some sketches, which I apparently, never posted before : purple boy in times of smallness :]

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14 notes - Posted August 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

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17 notes - Posted August 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[growingeclipse]

Tomorrow I need to post detes on my ratgirl OC