#its my poll and i love ocs so so much

[bi4pan-polls]

HELLO I AM MAKING MY GLORIOUS RETURN WITH *THE* BI4PAN SHIP: HEART&SOUL

(i would LOVE for this to be propaganda btw. They're gonna need it)

Characters: C. A. Cupid (canon) + Venetia Soulsong (OC)

Media: Ever After High (web series/doll line by Mattel, sister franchise to Monster High)

About the ship: do you ever see a canon character being done dirty by the writers/producers of a franchise by reducing her to the 3rd wheel of a love triangle that is clearly going nowhere, and think, "you know what she needs? A girlfriend"? No? Just me? Alright.

That's what is happening here. 😁 So the tl;Dr for anyone not in the know with the Monster High/Ever After High deep lore is that Cupid originally started as a Monster High (the school for the children of monsters to just learn and hang out) character, got hella sidelined, then got transferred over to Ever After High (the school for the children/successors of fairytale characters who then go on to retell the fairytale they were chosen for) with a nebulous destiny of "the Daughter of Love", then proceeded to... Get sidelined again 🙄. BUT, by putting her in Ever After High, she was opened up to the possibility of retelling a specific fairytale featuring Cupid (there are actually several, fun fact)!

Enter: Venetia Soulsong, my successor to Psyche, from the fairytale of Eros/Cupid and Psyche, scientist extraordinaire and lover of butterflies and cute pink-haired girls. 🥰

I could give you the full essay on how they met, how they got together, how they realized their sexualities (Cupid doesn't have a canon sexuality but in classic Greco-Roman fashion i headcanon her as bisexual; Venetia is canonically pansexual)... Buuutttt that would be long and it's honestly easier to just link Venetia's Ever After High Fandom Wiki page (with spaces cause I'm not sure if Tumblr still nerfs asks with links in them): https : // everafterhighfandom . fandom . com / wiki /Venetia_Soulsong

The OTHER tl;Dr is basically:

-sapphic soulmates (Venetia can see Red Strings of Fate, except for the one that is connecting her to Cupid)

-Ultimate Lovecore Vibes (Cupid is classic pink Lovecore, Venetia is romantic red/cream/gold Lovecore)

-tall/smol couple (Venetia is tall and built like a runner, i headcanon Cupid as being shorter and chubbier, built a bit more like a cherub)

-STEM girl x arts girl (Venetia is a budding lepidopterist!)

-friends to lovers (we love to see it!)

-thwarting destiny by choosing love rather than just letting it happen (something something queer theories on love. You get it.)

-something something Cupid (the original) was described as being a "terrible monster, more powerful than the Gods, able to conquer even mighty Zeus" and putting Cupid (the girl), who was originally a Monster (at Monster High) into his role in Cupid and Psyche. Yeah.

-they are the cutest couple known to man. Like. Lumity levels of cute. HUNTLOW levels of cute, even. THE CUTEST.

I will likely be back with visual propaganda but I'm having trouble finding it on my phone, in the meantime there's some visual propaganda on Venetia's page and also under the OC: Venetia Soulsong tag on my art Tumblr, @rai-knightshade-art so!! Enjoy the bi4pan girlies 🥰

...I actually HAVE also shipped a cannon character with a oc because the character was going to be reduced to a love traingle character I think! So like. So real so real!

OH MYGOSH SHES SO COOL! Everyone go read the wiki for Venetia if you are interested in this sort of thing because !!!

She seems, So fun !!

"Unbeknownst to her, however, Cupid was crushing on almost every person she could to distract herself from the truth: she was falling for one of her closest friends, i.e. Venetia." Hehehe. Love stuff like this

whao lumity and huntlow levels of cute :000

I haven't watched ever after high in years but I remember Cupid was one of my favorites so this is very fun for me!

[leviiackrman]

DARCY MORGAN - Red Dead Redemption [full colour]

more art || character page || commissions

Tag list (ask to be added or removed): @carrionsflower @statichvm @risingsh0t @simonxriley @tommyarashikage @kanos @bbrocklesnar @confidentandgood @unholymilf @florbelles @thedeadthree @shellibisshe @roofgeese @aezyrraeshh @faerune @tekehu @jackiesarch @minaharkers @sergeiravenov @carlosoliveiraa @rosenfey @greenecreek @queennymeria @heroofpenamstan @alexxmason @tethrras @jamessunderlandgf @a-treides @solasan @bigbywlf @delzinrowe @fenharel @imogenkol

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

Poll has to focus to not talk at mach speed

Tequilla has to focus to not talk super slowly

neither of them are bothered by the other's vocal quirks because they always compensate for the other

[valentineveils]

every single one of these characters have individual tags n i think the images would clog the post . so sorry but ! if u kno my ocs who would u romance n why :3c

[unjest]

NULL PROPAGANDA

hi hello if you weren't aware already my weird lizard guy Null is going to be facing off in the @original-character-championship tomorrow (Friday, March 23rd).

you should vote for him!!! Null is a freak of nature who is coming out of his cave (and he's doing just fine)

Reasons why you should vote for my wonderful guy!!!

-He LOVES to eat rocks and minerals. guys will be like is anybody going to eat this boulder and not wait for an answer

-Public enemy number 1 for sitting in a cave for 10 thousand years

-Eyes are OVERRATED. Out of style. Who needs them? Null doesn't! This beast is OPTIMIZED for cave life

-A creature of many talents! Null is forklift certified, a liscenced therapist, has at least 3 different PhDs, and can climb up any vertical surface!

-So much religious trauma it's unreal

-Has an evil twin plotting to murder him!

-Best friends with the physical manifestation of lying and a god of decay!

-Has a bite force of over 3000 PSI and can easily chew through solid steel!

Also, here's a Null-themed spotify playlist and some tiny doodles I drew in my tiny notebook

if you want to check out more art of the guy, ive got some here and here, and you can check out the lore here or on my oc lore sideblog @mortallycoiled

thank you for your consideration and for looking at my weird beast

[oc-poll-times]

Hi!!! I love my OCs!!! I have over 600 of them!! I also like clicking buttons :) now I can do both!

I'm just gonna be making a bunch of polls about my ocs and yall can vote on them if you'd like <3 you don't have to know who they are to vote you can absolutely vote on vibes alone that's totally valid. I'll be including images for them anyways c:

The reason I've made a new blog for this is because my first polls are going to be a tournament! And! I put 64 guys here! I'm not going to put 32 polls on my main I would never do that to you guys

Anyway yeah :) this is just for me but you guys can vote on whatever I want and if you do I love you and thank you for letting me make you look at my guys <3

[hoseoksluna]

WHITE | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut

word count: 8.1k

summary: craving white wine, your boyfriend would do anything for you—even let you dom him.

pinterest board: wine

warnings: alcohol consumption, wine!oc is dominant and she's enjoying it, plushie used in a sexual intercourse, dd/lg, jk is desperate and so horny, hand job, oral sex (m. + f. receiving), fingering, squirting, raw sex, the importance of sex being imperfect, use of sex toys — yes, plural, dirty talk, spanking, face riding

note: i'm genuinely sorry for this—SDFKJDSLFJDSLFJS. this is the last wine drabble <3 i loved writing about them again, ugh i missed my babies so much. would you, guys, also like me to write two drabbles about the steam series? i feel like it would only be fair like this. vote in the poll below, pwease. <3 hope you like this last installment.

Your boyfriend has an immense, insane amount of energy. 

You have partly yourself to blame. It’s Saturday night, summer at full blast and you felt it thrumming so deeply and intensely within your veins that you found yourself craving your most favored mood-lifter in the world. 

White wine. 

You’ve almost spent every weekend drinking myriads of different alcoholic beverages, but the white nectar is something you’ve quite neglected. Well, not so much as neglected, but forgotten about entirely. The last time you drank it, you and Jungkook were on far, far different terms. Fuck buddies with a degradation kink, skipping a party because you got horny again. You wonder if things would’ve turned out the same way if you hadn’t decided to spice up your getting ready time with that drink. Would it change the course of events that led him to confess his feelings for you? Would you have allowed yourself to fall for him, had he not made you drunk with his allure?

You only had to mention your thirst and Jungkook was quick to get up to his feet, take his keys, phone and wallet and he was out the door before you could say anything else. Your fond giggles vibrated across the room—so much that Bam lifted his head and jumped on your lap and so you spent the remaining time alone cuddling with the canine friend, catching up in your lovey-dovey dog language, kissing him all over until you dolled him up with red lipstick marks. 

He looked so good. Was happy about it, too, because when his Daddy came back, he was similarly quick to show him. 

And Jungkook, he laughed so hard that he clutched his own stomach, doubled over, his shoulders shaking. Then, he sat next to you on the couch, pulled you in for a hug as if he hadn’t seen you in years and very solemnly told you that it was his turn now. 

The words that tumbled out of you were so swift, without any kind of embrace of thought beforehand, that you didn’t have the time to consider the consequences they would come with until they dazzled you. Through and through, ridding you of your sense of sight. 

“You’ll get your kisses only if you show me that you bought the wine.” 

Jungkook’s eyes grew in size, darkened in nightly fashion. Twinkles flickering, dimly. The atmosphere, the dynamic and energy shifted, folding into something you haven’t yet experienced in such depth, calming your eyes until they blended back into normalcy. And you wouldn’t perceive it for what it truly was, had Jungkook not wordlessly left to fetch his bag from the convenience store, along with a corkscrew and two glasses, and had he not crouched in front of you. 

The view left you stunned. The blatantly obvious fact, too. 

The fact that, somehow, you were in control.

And it was so different from the last time due to a simple reason. Jungkook wasn’t the one who initiated it. Didn’t tell you to be in charge. Didn’t give you his control in words, in commands. No, it happened arbitrarily, on its own and Jungkook submitted to it. Submitted to you. Put down his control once he lowered his form between your knees, giving it to you this way, silently. 

A thing of utter beauty, filling you up with vibrancy, enthusiasm and… passion. 

He showed you his haul, unloading it onto your lap. Sparkling white wine in a golden bottle, dog treats, cheese and crackers and… Miffy. 

Miffy in a way you haven’t seen her before. 

Made into a sleeping position. Black eyes shut, round butt risen in the air, even rounder tail perked, body soft and drowsy. Bigger than the bunny resting alone on his bed in the other room. 

You purred, squeezing her hard before you hugged her to your chest, careful not to smear your makeup on her when you pushed her up to your neck. Looked at your quite small boyfriend with a ravening gaze as you said, “You got bunny a sister, how cute. Well done.” 

Your praise coaxed a noise out of Jungkook that you never heard before, one that stirred the eternally slumbering beast in you that had not once seen the night enveloping you. A concoction, most delicious and arousing, of a whimper and a hum. It settled within your core, teasing you there, making you want more. You told him, or the beast more like, to open the wine and he obeyed, right away. 

You watched him do it. Watched the flexing of his muscles, tense beneath the fabric of his tiger-print shirt. Watched him not spill a drop and then pour you a glass until it almost overflowed. He handed it to you, expecting you to take it from him, but you caught him off guard. 

“Taste it for me first.” 

His mouth fell agape. Remained parted when he immediately brought the glass to his lips and took a large sip. Your eyes followed the bobble of his throat as he swallowed and you gave him a big smile for it. A praise, too. 

“Good. Let me have a sip now, my hands are full.” 

In typical fashion, he drew close to you until your knees squeezed him in, legs wrapping around his torso. One hand wrapped around your hip, the other tipped the glass to your mouth and you looked at him and did not stop until you took a big gulp. 

“More.” 

He tipped it again. “Tastes good?” 

You nodded, liking the sweetness and the fizziness, but this time you didn’t swallow the nectar. Jungkook set the glass down, along with his haul, averting his gaze momentarily and you cupped his chin, bringing it back to you. Leaned in and, in a heated kiss, you spewed the wine out into his mouth. He gasped, pulling away, flushed cheeks a tiny bit full, lips pursed, one mouth end wet with a trickle flowing down. It would’ve been an adorable sight, had his eyes not narrowed, darkened further more and pierced you with such intensity that your clit gained a drum. 

Your finger felt for the top button of his shirt. “Swallow. Don’t be messy.” He did. Swore. Breathed hard. You undid the button, lifting your digit to wipe his chin clean, smearing it on his bottom lip until he opened for you. You plunged in. Let out a low sound of delight once he wrapped his puffy lips around it. 

And now here you are staring at each other, finger in mouth. His newly secured energy pulsating in him, seconds away from bursting, brutally. You can see it, vividly, and you prepare yourself for it—blaming partly yourself and, feignedly, the palatability of the white nectar for being the cause behind it. He’s waiting for the next move, countenance terribly solemn and stiff. His hands must be oh so itching to take over, but he sticks to the unspoken, patient and good. 

Taking out your finger gently, you undo the rest of his buttons, aware of the shudders zapping his body the more you reveal his smooth skin. Jungkook straightens for you, palms on your thighs, breathing heavily, a sound that brings out the strangest of oxymorons in you—simultaneous nervousness and confidence. Nervousness that you call the shots; confidence that the paintwork of his arousal is signed with your name. 

And it’s the latter that the beast plucks out, like a twig of flower off a tree. 

You push Jungkook back and slide into his lap, biting your lip at the contact of his hardness under the flimsy material of your ivory pajama shorts. His hands clasp around your small hips, but you pry them away, deeming that if you are in control, then it’s you who decides when he gets to touch you. His brows rise when you pin them down and at last he beams up at you, eyes lidded and drunk, despite the fact he merely had two sips of alcohol. Bunny’s sister rests askew in your joined laps, her head pointed towards your mound and it forces a certain idea into your muddy brain. 

One that Jungkook fleetingly interrupts. 

“You’re gonna take control of me?” 

Ooft, making it official. You hum your agreement, repositioning the plushie. Place her directly against his imprint and, pushing the soaked center of your shorts to the side, you sit down on her soft face. Begin to rock slowly. Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat, fists clench on either side of him as well as his jaw, chin upturned. He’s holding himself back with all of his might and it is only now that you feel your wetness dripping onto the fur, now when the vibrancy of the faint pleasure spreads across your every nerve ending, now when you know that he’s struggling to keep his composure. There’s something so incredibly satisfying about it that you rock your hips harder, whimpering, hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Can you handle it?” you murmur, already knowing that he won’t be able to the moment you decide to take things further, but you give him a slither of a chance to prove you wrong, rooting for him from within with a sly smile on your face. 

Jungkook pokes his tongue in his cheek, sighing, eyes descending to your neck and to your perky, pebbled breasts under your low cut top. “I’ll handle anything you come up with as long as I get your kisses.” 

His sweet response gratifies you so much that you arch your back, lowering your hands down to his chest, the thrum on your clit becoming unbearable, the soft friction of the plushie doing very little to alleviate it. You whine, picking up your pace. “Even—even if you don’t get to touch me?” 

Jungkook hesitates, biting his lower lip. A certain sadness coasts his now big eyes that makes you coo endearingly and slow down, feel so bad for him. “Anything for you.” 

You can’t halt the groan from escaping, the groan that roots from the passion and the love you carry for him, from the principle of his submission. You’ll make it up to him. Play with him just for a little while and you’ll give him his rightful upper hand right back to him, all because he was so quick to be your little toy. Without a thought, nor a word spared. Without a struggle. He deserves it. Has come a long way. 

“You’re just my little slut, aren’t you?” You grab a hold of his throat, tip his chin up, feel his vein throbbing. “My pretty little slut. Hard for me, hm? Will do anything for me?” 

Widening his eyes, mouth parted, he moans, sucking in a breath, chest lifting rapidly. Hand automatically lifting to palm himself, just in time to realize that he can’t because the plushie and your lap is in the way. “Yes, I’m your little slut and I need you so bad. Need your kisses.” 

You hum, terribly, terribly satisfied. Horny. A fire, personified. Fire and energy—a wonderful mixture about to meet. “Where, baby?” 

His breath shakes, his being radiated by you, glistening in sweat. “Everywhere, please.” 

You drift your hands down his chest. Think he earned them now by asking so nicely. You sit back on his thighs, plushie in hand, ready to chuck her away, but then another idea comes up. 

Grabbing her by the back of her neck, you use her to kiss him. On his jaw, on his neck, on his left peck, nipple and the mole underneath, making kissing sounds. Jungkook shudders at the contact upon his most sensitive spots and you can see his disliking for it before he voices it out. You revel in it, his desperation becoming your obsession. 

“No, not from her. Please, from you.” 

But in spite of that, your craving to give him everything is stronger. 

You toss her on the couch, hands instantly clasping around his neck. You kiss him, wetly, on his Adam’s apple and he whimpers, urging you to continue. The sides of his throat, collarbones, shoulders—you mark him everywhere with your red lipstick, making a pathway down his sternum before you go sideways. Create a large shape of a heart on the left side of his peck, coloring it in with bruises, with kisses so hard that his manhood twitches in his pants. You’re so focused on adorning him, on the citrusy taste of his skin, that you don’t even sense your hands as they rid him of his shirt, unbuckle his belt and undo his button, dragging down his zipper. 

You rise to your feet, out of breath, puffy mouth, lipstick slightly smeared, head spinning. “Take off your pants and get on the couch.” 

The golden buckle of his belt catches your eye as he stands up. You wrap your hand around it and tug it out of his belt hoops harshly. There’s a hint of timidness in the vast sea of his arousal once he looks at you, aware of what you’re planning with the leather band. With a giggle, you merely wink at him and Jungkook blushes, dropping his gaze in tandem with his pants. 

“Boxers, too?” 

You edge around his side and envelop your arms around his middle, mouth pressing against his spine. A big, red mark of your lips amidst the broadness of his back. Utterly, utterly beautiful. “Smart boy, yes—off with them, now.” 

Jungkook laughs, softly, shyly. You wish you could see his blush deepen as the clenching of his abdomen divulges to you how much he liked that praise. You also wish you could feel the fluttering of the butterflies inside, if there are any at all. You’re getting to know him in such a new way that you otherwise would have never had the opportunity to do so. The shudders, the tension under his skin, the lively energy that is yearning to burst and rain upon you—it is all so awfully exhilarating, even more so the fact that you hold it all in your tender grasp. 

And he lets you. In the name of love. 

He drops his undergarment and he goes to sit down like you told him to, but you squeeze him harder against yourself. No, he’s not going anywhere. The heat, his soft skin, his gentleness and shyness—you want it all close to you, close enough to seep into your pores so it can make bed there and live there perpetually. So snug, so homely—yes, that’s precisely what it is. Home. 

You skim your hands down the defined muscles of his stomach, feeling them move under your fingers. Take his wrists behind his back and keep them there, unrestrained yet, his belt curled on the coffee table. You bring your hands back to his stomach, lowering them down—

“Can you reach me?” Jungkook asks, head turned to the side. You’re so used to degradation in your sex life that at first you thought he was mocking you, but on the contrary—he’s asking in all genuinity. With his forearms pressed to his sides, he’s bigger than he usually is and he wondered if your small form can stretch enough to touch him. 

How sweet. 

“Such a good, thoughtful boy.” You grab his length. Had to do it from the side a little bit, but you don’t mind. At least you get to see him. See the way he twists his features at the contact, see his energy and his muscles straining. “I guess I can, huh?” 

You tug at his length rapidly a few times. His body shudders again, almost doubles over before he straightens his spine, whimpers trickling out of his mouth and rooting in your heat, soaking your pajamas. And when his sounds rise in volume, you swiftly let go of him. Fetch the belt and fasten it around his wrists, leading him to take a seat on the couch. 

Manspreading, cock hard, red and long, almost kissing his belly button, hands behind his back, muscles big and flexed, face features darkened by his arousal, ravagedly fixed on you—fuck, you could come from the view. 

You sink to your knees in front of him. Itch so fucking hard to take him in your mouth and make that energy paint you in white, but watching him like this—you plan something else entirely. Pressing one kiss on his V-line, you glide your lips upon the tip of his length, making him tremble in desperation. It takes all of your strength not to give it to him, but you know he will be overjoyed with the little thought that’s swarming in your brain. 

“Where’s your fleshlight, baby?” 

Jungkook loosens a hard, flabbergasted breath and his pretty, pretty cock twitches against your mouth. 

You knew it. 

You bought the toy together yesterday. It’s still unopened in a box somewhere in his bedroom; you don’t know where he hid it. He may have not wanted to spend money on it, but when you witnessed the way his eyes glowed, you convinced him to get it. Begged him. Told him you wouldn’t leave the sex shop until he bought it and he gave in, timidly. Much to your delight.

“In the closet,” Jungkook croaks out, clearing his throat and you kiss his other V-line as a reward, kitten licking his tip for a millisecond as you rise to your feet. He whimpers, again in desperation.

“You can’t get it, can you?” you taunt, lovingly, fingers hooking under your shorts and dragging them down your hips, your top following over your head. His eyes follow your every movement, fixing on your feminine parts, muscles bulging, yearning to touch you. You grow wetter, being looked at, being desired like that. “You’re just a helpless baby.” 

He moans your name, signaling to you that there’s only so much he can take and you understand. You’re quick as you hurry to his bedroom, quick to find it, quick to pull the toy out of the box and quick to return to him. 

There’s a trickle of his male arousal gliding down his length when you stand between his legs and your own desperation to pleasure him heightens in you—so much that you’re equally quick to unfold your plan. 

You grab his chin and tip it up, harshly. Kiss him so nastily that he moans into your mouth and then… then you stare him dead in his eye. “I’m gonna put the fleshlight under bunny’s sister and you’re gonna show her how hard Daddy fucks his girls, yeah?” He’s left speechless, breathing rapidly, coated in sweat. Eyes narrowed, still darkened but now glowing with that familiar light that you saw yesterday, black irises piercing you through and through. “You should give her a name, though. Have something to moan when you fill her up, hm?” 

It’s evident, the way his brain malfunctions, but he surprises you. 

“Vinny.” 

Vinny and Bunny, how adorable. 

You coo, pecking him. “Vinny it is. Such a pretty name. I’m gonna make you nice and wet for her. Would you like that?” 

“Please.” 

You descend to your knees and you don’t hesitate to immediately take him into your mouth as far as you can. You gag around him, but you relax your throat, bobbing your head only slightly, testing yourself, wanting to stretch your throat out for him. Jungkook groans, squeaks little mewls as he doubles over once more, and the sound is so obscenely loud that your clit throbs harder in response and you would touch yourself if your craving to pleasure him wasn’t stronger. 

You pull out until you can stack both of your hands on his length and while your tongue plays with his tip, you twist your wrists. Only briefly, just to make him feel a little better before you lick him all over—just to stay true to your words. And when it’s your name that comes out of his mouth once you slobber all over him, you withdraw altogether. 

“Please… please,” Jungkook whimpers, trembling and you feel terribly bad for him. So much that you pucker your lips at him and kiss his cheek endearingly as soon as you get on your feet again, purposefully ignorant to the way your cunt likes his helplessness. 

“I got something better for you, Daddy, don’t worry,” you reassure him, slipping into the dynamic your familiarity using the title. You grab Vinny and the fleshlight, placing her on top of the toy, on the armrest of the couch—her butt and her pussy facing him. 

And when you glance at him to see his reaction to your artwork, you’re stunned by the look he gives you. Mad, mad stare. Awfully dark and menacing. It would disquiet you if didn’t know that he loved you. There’s no way you could take the liberty in toying with him like this, had you not become exclusive—had he not created a realm of safety for you to do that in. 

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you for this,” Jungkook threatens and the sliver of normalcy in the middle of the role-play that he caught onto makes you giddy and feel so fucking alive. The threat, too. You quiver in anticipation and excitement, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re not walking after this.” 

You laugh, softly, thrilled. “I sure hope so,” you say, grabbing a hold of his arm to lift him up. “I’m dripping for you.” 

Jungkook hisses. Won’t budge. Remains seated, looking up at you. Doesn’t reciprocate your smile. Scowls, instead. “Can I taste you?” 

You shake your head ‘no’, even if it emotionally pains you. “Not right now.” 

He sighs and you take his arm again. This time he obeys—lets you lead him into the position that you want. On his knees, still on the couch, perfectly at level with Vinny’s pussy patiently waiting for him. Jungkook looks at her for a long time, studying the silicone shape of her clit and lips. You’re certain that if his hands were free, his thumb would’ve traced her soft vulva.

“Do you like her pussy?” you ask, your grin only widening, eyes blazing, emitting hot sparkles of light. You’re perhaps more excited and enthusiastic about this than he is. 

Jungkook looks at her for a split second more before he flicks his intense gaze to yours. “Yours is prettier.” Your breath hitches in your throat and your heart follows its footsteps, skipping a beat, springing up and grazing your vocal cords. You can’t get a word out—you’re stupefied, in love, so impassioned that you resemble him with all that fire in you, taking after his energy buzzing in him. You sense the same movement in you, hotter, more vigorous. Your mouth parts and, cheeks awash with color, you’re on the verge of bursting. “Let me touch your little pussy, please.”  

You bite your lip, pause a tiny bit just to regain your composure and you sigh, eventually, gripping his face in your hand, squishing his cheeks. “I said,” you start, emphasizing your warning just to see his flush deepen like you wanted. “Not right now. Can’t you listen?” 

For a fleeting moment, there’s a heavy silence filled with his hard breaths. 

Then, Jungkook glares at you. 

“I’m gonna destroy you.” 

You chuckle, girlishly—even though his threat yet again thrums within your skin, even though your body craves to submit to him, throw the playtime away, forget about it, entirely. “Talk all you want. See where it gets you.” With your other hand, you take his length and line it up at Vinny’s entrance. “Fuck her.” 

Now—now he finally grins, a puckish smile that unnerves you a little bit, as if an idea crawled up into that smart brain of his. 

And he proves you right. 

“I’m gonna show her how I’m gonna fuck you,” he mutters, drawing closer to Vinny, to the arm rest. “Where’s the lube? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” 

A trickle of cold sweat trickles down your spine and it’s you who’s left speechless now. You were so quick to return to him that you did forget the lube, mind void of rationality, filled with him that you forgot such an essential thing. You swear under your breath, feeling stupid. 

“Go get it before I rip this fucking belt apart and use it on you.” 

Wordlessly, embarrassed with your head down, you go back to his room and fish for his lube in his bedside drawer, noticing that it’s where he keeps the vibrator for you. You haven’t used it in so long in your playtime and you reminisce, briefly, on the last time he made you come with it. On this very bed, on his lap with bunny on yours as he rearranged your guts with the toy on your clit—teasing you by lifting it and placing it between the plushie’s legs, acting for her and screwing up his features in pleasure.

Your heart thuds at the memory, your thighs sodden with your essence, and a certain expectation creeps within its chambers. The expectation that the toy will make a comeback tonight. That is, if you even deserve it. 

You cringe at your wetness while your feet pad back to the living room. Jungkook stares you down, guilt written all over his face for being mean and it mollifies your negative feelings, dispersing them away from you. It’s enough for you—you don’t really want to talk about how you pitifully failed, nor do you want to hear a mention of it, but Jungkook seemingly does. 

Up close, his eyes are awfully soft as if he made a mistake with his last words. You don’t think he did—he’s always been the leader in your playtime, so you deem he only did the right thing. Besides, you’ve worked him up to the point of anger, so from your standpoint, he didn’t do anything wrong. You did. 

“Come here,” he says, gently, leaning in and angling his head. “Put your arms around me.” You do as he says, needing to, needing to be led for a little while before you can resume. You sink your fingers into his hair as you rest your forearms around his shoulders, even though all you want to do is rid him of his restraint and let him fuck it out of you. He kisses you with such tenderness that you whimper in sensitivity and amorousness, taking it one step further and moving your mouth against his, slipping your tongue inside. It’s a brief kiss, no matter its intensity, for he still has something to say. “You’re doing so well tonight. I never thought I’d ever get this hard from you being the boss of me. I’m sorry for snapping, you hear me?” he whispers against your lips, each movement causing his pillows to touch yours in faint, faint kisses that make your mind spin and your desire for him to lengthen across your whole body, deepening. You nod for him, hearing his words, needing them, too—glad for the honesty, for the check in, for the sliver of normalcy. “I’m just so horny and I need you. I didn’t mean it, okay? Daddy didn’t mean to talk to you like this. He loves you and you made him so needy that he’s frustrated, but it’s okay. He can handle it. Do you love your Daddy back, hm?”

You moan at the continuation of his words, running your fingers through his hair, inching closer to him until your chest softly collides with his. And his reassurement, the warm feeling of his skin, the potency of his love—it all erases your mistake, leaving only your sensual craving for him. You nod, again, like a little girl given a talking-to from her father, absorbing the lesson. “I love you.” 

Jungkook hums, pleased, pecking you. “Good. I’m gonna do what you want now, baby. Gonna make you proud, listen to every word like a good Daddy, hm? You can do anything you want to me. You’d like that? You wanna keep going?” 

You smile at him, sweetly, and he kisses your expression of contentment. It feels so good like this and you feel woozy, too. Sluggish, ready to be taken, on your way to cloud nine. You nod your head for the last time and squirt the lube all over him and Vinny’s intimate parts, your desire to take over him blending into your fuzzy feelings. 

With your help, he slides inside her, both pairs of eyes watching the slick intrusion, then meeting at once—your simultaneous groans of delight merging, fading into one another, creating one beautiful, heavenly sound, unheard by all angels and celestial beings. You hold the fleshlight steady as he bottoms out, his mouth parted, brows furrowed, eyes so heavy-lidded as he devours your gaze, your face, the pleasure he feels so overwhelming that you almost think he can’t take it. The flexing of his abdominal muscles, the roll of his hips that takes all of his strength while his arms remain restrained behind his back, his neck shiny with a layer of sweat—fuck, the sight is to die for and you melt into something boneless, jelly and gooey; becoming just a hole for him.

You can’t wait for him to fuck you. Perhaps it’s you, after all, who can’t take it. 

Jungkook begins to pound her, his mound hitting her clit with every hard motion and it strikes your awe. Your breathing quickens, the drum in your own bundle of nerves unwaveringly unbearable and what’s worse, he keeps fucking looking at you, perhaps imagining it’s your pussy that he’s ruining and your legs tremble, threatening to give out—

“Rub your pussy on the other end, please,” he begs, vocal cords so awfully strained, and this time you decide to gratify him. 

The first moan that your mouth emits makes him fuck the toy harder—so much that it slips out of your grasp. You prop your knee on the armrest, flattening Vinny’s face on the edge of the toy, so you can gain the friction you so desperately need and it works. Your cunt soaks her sleepy countenance and you flick your eyes to it, watching the fur get darker with each rock of your hips.

“Look at me,” he grunts—and you do. A hint of softness in the dark sea of his eyes, boisterous waves of arousal sloshing to and fro. “Use her like I am. Hard—” He shows you how by a stroke that reverberates through your body, stimulating your clit by bumping into it. “And then fast.” Quick thrusts that waggle with your form, your curls bouncing against your spine. 

And so you match his rhythm. It stimulates you far more than the pace you had going for yourself, your orgasm enclosing around you, inching closer and closer with each graze of your clit against the now more firm plush fur. Your brows knit, the coil in your stomach tightening to the point that it’s you who ultimately takes over and Jungkook follows, matching your rhythm, fucking Vinny faster—the silicone squeaking with each deep plunge of his length into her hole that causes your tits to slap against each other. But Jungkook doesn’t look at them. No, his eyes are set on you and you know that he knows that you’re about to come. 

Jungkook begins to pant, marked chest flushing, adorning him most finely. The knowledge is getting him there, too. “You close, baby?” 

You moan, sucking in a breath. “So close, I’m gonna come.” 

He moans with you, approving of it. “Come, then, I wanna watch you. Make her nice and wet for me, hm?” You rock your hips faster—closer and closer, gripping Vinny with all your might. “I wanna touch you so bad, princess. Kiss you everywhere. Lick that little clit. Fuck you until all that you know is my fucking name. Please—”

You come so hard that it takes both you and Jungkook by surprise, your body violently shuddering and colliding into his. He groans, deeply, following in suit, your orgasm triggering his and he sloppily fucks the toy while he watches you ride out your high, bliss enveloping you in angelic glow. 

“Yes, princess, just like that, fuck. You’re so pretty. My pretty little girl, coming so hard. Yes, fuck.” He’s losing himself, moaning your name over and over until there’s nothing left to give to Vinny, until he’s so spent that he sits back on his feet, eyes closing and opening, tongue licking his dry lips. He moans your name again, in post-high. “Please, get the belt—”

You don’t hesitate. With blurry vision and sex hormones swirling in your brain, numb by your intense orgasm, you edge around him and rid him of his restraint, flinging it somewhere away from the both of you, hating it, not wanting to see it again. 

You and Jungkook exchange a look full of soft smiles and love, with his joy like a cherry on top of that. He twists his wrists, standing up to his feet, the size difference and the sudden change in energy causing him to grow solemn. No smiles, though the love remains. You feel it thumping in the atmosphere you’re surrounded by as he completely overpowers you, naturally. And you welcome it, needing it—needing to be dominated and fucked until you’re brainless. 

“I love watching you come,” Jungkook murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and cradling the side of your face. “It’s all I want to see for the rest of my life. Every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to sleep. It’s everything to me.” 

It moves through you, his words, almost painfully with their vigor and passion, passing down your body until they settle in your core. You drip for him. Still feel so terribly lightheaded and high. “Just that, huh?” 

“And your snores.” 

You punch his arm. Jungkook laughs and gathers your hair, pulling it away from your face, stroking it down your back. A grin of your own curls your mouth. You don’t snore, at all. And you tell him. 

“You do when you’re tired.” You gasp, lifting your hand again but he catches it in time, intertwining your fingers with his. “You did such a good job today. You learn well from me. Sounded just like me. Made me proud.” He strokes your hair again and you lean into his touch, even though you don’t believe him. You could’ve done a lot better and it could’ve ended just like you planned—fucking him with that fleshlight. You guess you can save that for another time. 

You shake your head. “I messed up.” 

“But you didn’t.” He angles his head, inching closer so the gravity of his words can pierce your mind, but it does no such thing. You still have one of your own. Solid as a rock. 

“No, I shouldn’t have forgotten the lube. It ruined everything.” 

Jungkook sighs, drawing back, fondling the back of your hand before he lets go of it and clutches the nape of your neck. “Sex isn’t meant to be perfect. You didn’t ruin anything, why do you think that?” He looks at you for a long time, but you can’t take it—you drop your gaze, still feeling terrible. He calls you by your name, firmly. “Who made you think sex is meant to be perfect, huh? Bring them to me.” 

You laugh, softly, at the ridiculousness of his question. It’s him who owns your virginity—you’ve never been with anyone else before him. It’s your own expectations that make you think that. “Right here.” You point to your brain. 

Jungkook kisses your forehead. Lingers there, giving you a million tiny pecks, as if erasing everything from there that he doesn’t like. It touches you, deeply, and you can’t stop yourself from submitting to it as it melts your brain. Your mouth rounds in a pout, your bottom lip jutting out and when he gazes down upon you and sees it, he coos at you, kissing it. “I made a mistake, too, didn’t I?” You remain silent—still think he didn’t do anything wrong. “But it was still amazing and we came together, didn’t we?” 

He’s right; you’ll give him that. “You really liked it?” 

He pecks you, vehemently, on the lips and then points to the fleshlight behind him in all its glory, dripping with cum. So much fucking cum that it makes a puddle on the hardwood floor. “Do you think I would’ve cummed this much if I didn’t? Tell me, baby.” 

You swear, unable to take your eyes off of the quantity of his male essence. It draws you in, magnetically, and you obey its call, lifting the fleshlight with your hands, turning around so Jungkook sees and darting out your tongue—

“Don’t.” 

You swipe the muscle across the silicone hole, collecting his ivory arousal. Most of it trickles down your neck and bare chest and it’s Jungkook now who swears, loudly. Grabs you by your waist and, flinging the toy away, he kisses you. You didn’t even have the time to swallow. He’s tasting himself on your tongue and it causes you to moan into his mouth. He taps the back of your thighs and you jump, wrapping your legs around his torso. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but at this point you give zero fucks. 

His tender bedding grazes your back when he lays you down on it with a harsh thud, breaking the kiss and taking your breath away. Bottom lip between his teeth, he studies your soiled body with his cum, kneeling on the bed by your form. He takes his first two fingers and collects his evidence of pleasure, flicking his eyes to yours. You meet him halfway, expecting him to plunge those digits in your mouth and you’re ecstatic, wanting it badly, but Jungkook pushes you down. 

In fact, he turns you around—ass up, face down. With just one hand. 

You swear, your arousal gaining new intensity. And it’s your needy hole that he plunges his fingers in, briefly stuffing you with his cum, placing his free hand on your lower back so you can arch your spine for him more. Then, he rubs your clit in hard, slow circles, making you cry out, making your legs tremble all over again—

A spank. A brassy, cacophonous spank that drives you forward, forcing you to grip onto the sheets. 

“I told you not to do that, didn’t I?” Jungkook rasps. Doesn’t alleviate the burn. “Answer me.” 

Fuck. “Yeah, you told me not to do that.” 

You brace yourself for another spank, but it doesn’t come. You feel his lips by your ear, his body heat cocooning you as he bends over you, his fists, pitifully, on either side of your back. 

“You’re such a filthy little girl. Licking my cum off like that? Making me hard all over again for you?” he tsks, the sound making you even needier. For him, for his cock, even for another spank. You grind your ass against his hip and he maneuvers so his cock slips between your cheeks. Swears, such guttural noise that you mewl in response. “You just do what you want, huh? I guess you don’t love your Daddy anymore.” 

He spanks you again, harder than before, and your vowel of disagreement breaks at the concoction of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. “No—no, I love you.” 

Another spank. Lips by your ear again, his body clinging to your side. “You love me?” He clamps your mouth shut, preventing you from answering. 

You do, anyways, your words muffled. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

Jungkook hums in question. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.” He digs his fingers harder into your cheek, other hand rounding around your hip and attacking you with bolts of pleasure that make you quiver against him—rubbing your clit rapidly before he sinks his fingers inside you… and merely keeps them there. 

You move his hand away and he lets you, holding it, panting. “I love you so much.” 

Jungkook groans, sinking his fingers deeper. “Who do you love, hm?” 

He wants you to say his rightful title and you do, with all your heart. “You, Daddy. I love you.” 

At your words, Jungkook begins to pump his fingers and you cry out, placing your head on his palm, taking it. “Such a good fucking girl, making me crazy—” He growls, pressing a fat kiss on your cheek, curling his fingers slowly into that place that causes your breath to hitch in your throat, your orgasm quick to catch up to you. “Good little girl that loves her Daddy, fuck. I’m gonna give you everything. Gonna eat that little pussy, hm? You want that? Want Daddy to make you come with his tongue?” 

You squeak when he gives you one particular, hard stroke against your special place, mind numbing, a dam broken. “Yes, yes, please, Daddy, please—”

He draws away, instantly. Traces your back with his palms as he straightens, smearing your feminine essence all over your skin that he licks up. And then, his mouth—

Jungkook takes you in his mouth. All of you. Licking against your clit, sucking it, rubbing his face in your cunt and groaning against her. His hands squeeze your ass, painting it redder and he flicks your little bundle of nerves with his tongue until he senses your orgasm. Then, he pulls away for a second, stalling it. Thumbs your other, puckered hole. 

“My pretty little pussy. All mine.”

Mewling, you shake your ass for him and he growls, cursing, spanking your cheek, taking the flesh in his hand and squeezing it. Again and again, until you feel yourself drip, until you feel him spread your legs wider and nudge himself between them, opening his mouth for it to trickle down upon his tongue. 

“Sit up. Ride my face.” 

You moan before you even obey, sitting down on his tongue and grinding your pussy on it. He rolls it against you, back and forth, following your rhythm. Slow and romantic, kissing your clit every once in a while, sucking it as you keep up your movement, inching dangerously close to your orgasm. He’s in absolute control of you, though. Of your pleasure and climax, stalling it before beckoning it forth again. You lose yourself in it, in the profound and all consuming delight toying with all your nerve endings, creating something within you that diffuses you with confidence and allure, that inclines you to ride him harder, whimper a little louder and knead your breast until you leave your handprint in your wake. 

He lets you do your thing, but as you saw earlier today, there’s only so much that he can take. 

Clasping your hips, he angles them until your hole is at level with his nimble tongue, guiding you to lean back and use his chest to hold yourself steady. And like his fingers, he fucks you with the muscle, curling it each time. The filthy noise of your slick and his saliva, his breaths and hums, your obscene moans and then his thumb rubbing your clit rapidly—it’s enough, with his evident permission, for you to come. 

And you come so hard that you sprinkle his face with your dew. 

He laughs in utter joy, humming—humming deeply and you’re so obsessed with that sound that you come again, shuddering violently and he spanks you, holds you by your waist, digging in his fingerprints, allowing you to ride out your high, to use him until you’re so boneless that you slump against him. 

Jungkook drags you down, though, slipping, instantly, his cock inside of you. And it’s wild, wild butterflies that you feel in your gut owing to it, then pain so acute that you whine. Enveloping his arms around you, tightly, with no way of escaping, his wet face is so tender that you coo at him amidst the rush of your colorful feelings. Wipe away your dew, giggling, kissing him loudly as his cock adjusts in you and the bite from overstimulation withers little by little.

“You can take it, I know you can,” Jungkook whispers, beaming up at you, iridescent. “You feel so good around me. So tight. I love being inside of you.” 

Slowly, he begins to move, causing your features to scrunch up. In discomfort at first, then in relish as your stiffened nipples rub against the hardness of his chest. 

“You’re my good little girl. You take everything I give you so well. So well.” Jungkook picks up his pace, gathering your hair in his fist. Doesn’t pull on it; merely holds it. You whimper, his words loosening the overbearing tightness of your walls. “I’m gonna take care of you. You’re just my little baby. Mine—” A hard thrust. Your eyes roll back. “My baby.” 

“Yes, I’m yours,” you croak out and Jungkook takes your face in his hands and pounds into you until all you see is stars. Pretty, pretty twinkling stars. 

Slapping skin, his grunts—you don’t even see your orgasm coming, coming over you so violently and yet in such an exhilarating way. Your dew forces him out, forces his chuckles out again and he brings you back to him, kissing you, plunging his cock back with ease. 

You’re so lightheaded that you feel like an angel, soaring in the sky. An angel that years for something more. And you tell him. “Jungkook, please, I want the vibrator.” 

He merely smiles at you, arm reaching over and pulling out the toy for you from his bedside table. Turning it on, you’re radiated by the light in his eyes and you whimper in impatience. Jungkook shushes you, like a baby, clicking on the intensity until he’s satisfied, placing it on your clit. 

And then he gets up. 

Pushes you against his closet, back against the wood, legs around his waist, vibrator on your clit and his hand clasped around your mouth, preventing your loud moans from escaping while letting you know how much he loves being in charge. Giving you hard strokes that secure him your soul on a silver platter before he fucks you so fast that you can’t see anything. Your surroundings are a blur while his face remains clear, painted in tortured pleasure for you as if he were holding himself back. 

“Come for me, Daddy,” you beg under his palm, your sound muffled, but it seems that Jungkook understands you. 

Pulling away, he turns you around and gets into position again. One hand around your mouth, the other holding the toy on your clit, his dick inside. He begins to play with you, not moving his hips at all, only the vibrator. Panting against the crook of your neck, he takes a second to merely breathe with you while you’re on the pathway to another mind blowing orgasm because he turns up the intensity. “How about you come for Daddy first, hm? I know you don’t need me to move when we do this. You can come just like this. So come.” 

And you do, embarrassingly, whining all over the place, twisting your hips to chase your pleasure, causing him to emit the same sounds—causing him to pound you so hard against his closet that he, too, comes in mere minutes. His fingers in your mouth, he’s loud and just as whiny as you, fucking you through his orgasm as you play with digits, sucking on them. 

He doesn’t pull away for a long time. Presses you against his chest and holds you like that, still connected. The vibrator buzzes on the floor, the air is stuffed, but you’re content, the happiest angel, held and stuffed, too. With cum and dick. Heaven on earth. 

Jungkook begins to kiss your neck, marking you there. Fondles your nipples, making you shudder and sigh, making you utter the three words that he deserves. 

“I love you, Ggukie.” 

Jungkook makes a sound that tears you apart. A whimper; the whiniest you ever heard him be. He pulls out of you, but stuffs you again with his fingers. Makes you squirt in record time, kissing you everywhere he can reach. Neck, shoulder, jaw, cheek and lips. 

You must be soaring again in the clouds because you can’t feel your body, especially not when Jungkook says, “I love you, my little squirter.” 

Your knees do give out, after all. Jungkook is quick to pick you up and cradle you in his arms. Wash you clean in the shower. Put on a movie for you while making you food, joining you as soon as he can. 

It’s love you feel—love most profound. And as you eat the food together and finish the wine with drenched Vinny on the other side of the couch, you fall asleep with that love thrumming in your heart. 

You’ll be his for the rest of your life. And he’ll be yours, too. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[catonatrain]

OUUHGHHO UOUGHHHOUUUUU VERN!!!!!! IM SO 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 EVERYTIME I SEE OC ART I 💥💥💥💥 THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!! I LOVE LOVE LOVE THEIR EXPRESSIONS.... VERN IS TRULY CHANNELING HOW I FEEL..... ALSO YUKIS EXPRESSION IS KILLING ME ITS SO FUNNY I AM SO ENDEARED THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

everyone take this chance to look at my darling vern and also please consider voting for yuki

The Green Hair and Pronouns Tournament Grand Finals

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Merry Go Round Of Life (Howl's Moving Castle)

"so emotional"

Poll Runner: Ghibli fans rise up!

Against the Kitchen Floor (Will Wood)

And I swear! I will die trying!/I'm still in the process, but I'm making progress; I promise I honestly wanna prove improvement's possible, I swear!/I'm so fucking sorry! I'm not a good person, I'm barely a person at all, But someday I'll be perfect, and I'll make up for it all!

Less rare than scarce, less diamond then rough/Unlikely to be more than just the coal you failed to crush

I'm catatonic in your arms, crying, "How did I cause so much harm?"/I'm down pounding my head against the kitchen floor/Apologizing for my life and ever entering yours

The vertex of my redemption arc/I’m searching on that virgin heart

"The raw emotion! And I strongly relate to desperately wanting to improve for someone you love. I belt out this song when I feel really hopeless"

"my one OC. also me. also it's just a really good song. one of will's best imo. screaminbg"

"Literally hits almost all of my self-esteem issues. Feeling like people only care about you for your body? Check. Not understanding why anyone would want you? Check. Thinking that all you do is hurt people? Check. I don't cry very often but this song DEFINITELY made me teary"

"one of those if u aren’t paying attention to the lyrics ur like this is nice but once u hear them its an OW holy OW and guilt and I’m sorry feelings"

"Just. Loving someone but not feeling like you’re good enough and trying to improve."

"Not only does this song have lyrics that are deeply relatable to me, but this song also feels very deeply personal to the artist and I feel that anyone who listens to it for the first time has that same feeling of getting punched in the gut. Just the lyrics and the melody and Will Wood’s vocals make this song an absolute masterpiece and I cry every time I hear it."

"One reason I'm attached to this song is because my friend sent it to me and said "I'm kin assigning you this song" and ruined my life (/j) It messed me up because I've always had a hard time in my life figuring myself out and dealing with my emotions, and for what feels like the first time, this song has been able to near perfectly describe how I feel about myself and my impact on other people, and it always just meant so much to me that my friend who sent it to me knows me better than I know myself and shared the song with me and I love them dearly."

Against the Kitchen Floor submitted by @pixopolis + others

[lilghostiequinni]

Not the Only One

Main Masterlist Lestappen Masterlist

Pairing: Norris!female oc (Lea) x Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc

Warnings: Fluffy,

Summary: She comes to Formula One as a photographer. Well, kind of. She's something else but a photographer nonetheless, but for three teams, she takes photos.

Requested: NO / yes (Saturday Poll)

The better part of all 10 teams was gathered in one of the many conferencing rooms in the F1 headquarters; every team had its own little section.

"Alright, well, we have a new member joining, she is a photographer to all teams, partially and three teams full time," Stefano says to the group of teams in the room as he walks in, a woman following behind.

"She is already assigned to one team of her choice. The other two will be determined via her terms," Stefano says, moving to the side for the woman to come forward.

"This is Lea, Lea Norris. She will also be taking team photos and the grid photo for this year's beginning," Stefano says, pointing to the woman as he does.

"Hello, I'm Lea. The team of my choosing was McLaren. I brought it up to Stefano about how to determine the other two teams I will be working for, and that is a charity race for what ever charity you choose. Any questions?" Lea asks the grid, and a few hands go up.

Lea pointed to Alex Albon, "How are you related to Lando? He never mentions you."

"Well, I'm his twin sister, his more successful little twin sister," Lea walks over to Lando and wraps her arms around his neck, and he holds her arms with his hands.

Carlos raises his hand next, "I would like to point out that I knew of you, just not what you do?"

Lea smiles, and Lando shakes his head, "She co-owns Quadrant with me because she can do the behind-the-scenes better than I can. She also owns her own clothing brand, Leona & Odan, also owning the multi-million dollar company Leletics, the company that makes many parts of the liveries and other things. Let's not forget her athletic ability," Lando says; he does an eye roll at the end but still has a smile.

"That is all true. I own the fashion company Leona & Odan, along with the company Leletics, which is also a design company not just for livery parts and 'stuff.' I also co-own Quadrant with my brother, but I am never on camera because I don't want to. I am also athletic. I do ballet and a few other sports myself. I am terrible at golf, though," Lea says, letting go of her brother to walk back to the front of the room.

She stands at the front of the room, watching the drivers.

"Why are you doing this?" Comes from the Mercedes team.

"Because I need a change of pace. I do what I love every day, but there is only so much I can do about my hobbies, such as photography. Also, I may have punched one of the chairmen to Leletics because he was there for a few years and still thought I was an assistant and not the CEO. He tried to do something that shouldn't be done, and I may have punched him a little too hard," Lea says with a fake smile on her face.

"Someone tried to touch you! Was it that asshole Brason?" Lando demands in big brother mode.

"It's fine, Lando, later, please," Lea begs her brother; Lando clenches his jaw but backs down.

For the next hour, she answers all the questions on what she is to do before she gets a question from one Max Verstappen, "So, what are we to do for this race?"

"The race is to determine what other two teams I'll technically work for, and for charity, the two teams to win will get to give 1 million dollars to a charity of their choosing. McLaren will also be competing because they don't want them left out, but they won't get anything if they win; a charity of their choice will still get a million dollars, and the charities of the rest of the teams will still get half a million dollars, each." Lea says before she continues. "Listen, I know it sounds bad because you don't even know what I can do, but I just want to give back, and I... I don't really know how to explain myself to you. I just want to do what got me started, talking pictures of racing."

It was basically a mock race in Silverstone; liveries were provided to each team, so everyone was on the same playing field as the racers; there was a single level of qualifying and a single free practice to get familiar with the car.

In the last laps of the race, it was pretty clear that the two other teams would be Red Bull and Ferrari, but Mercedes was still in the running for the third team, attempting to over take Ferrari.

But in the end, it was Ferrari that just barely beat Mecades as Carlos passed Hamilton.

Later that day, Formula One announced the addition of a three-team photographer, and the day after, McLaren, Red Bull, and Ferrari announced themselves as the three teams for the newest photographer

Lea proved herself, too, to all the teams, not just the three that had become her job, that she was capable of taking the necessary photographs in the sport of Formula One.

It was no surprise to her brother, though, when she showed up at Woking with a helmet for her brother, one he sort of forgot about. Just barely remembered a helmet design he told her for the 2024 season, so she designed it but did not tell him she designed it, giving it to him before testing as a surprise.

A/N: So, Lestappen won, but I will check later when the poll ends and post a thing about which two get one shot in a week. There will also be a part two posted in Week 3, it will take place in Maimi, Imola, and Monaco of the current season. This didn't have much Lestappen content, but in the next one it will.

Tags: If you want to be added to the lists or a single list, let me know

[shroudedunderworld]

Tails (FINALE!!)

What I think NRC Mermaid!AU characters tails would look like

Part: 1st years | 2nd years | 3rd years | Faculty

×~~~✓\~~~~~~~~~~✓\~~~×

Dire Crowley

Smooth and light, Crowley's tail fits his feathery vibe well. The black tail with the blue iridescence is the calling card of corvid birds, like the crows and ravens he knows and loves.

Mozus Trein

Some say it's ratty, torn up, not much good. Sure, it's seen better days, but nevertheless, it's Trein's only tail. The fin lined sides make gliding leisurely through the water a breeze, and that's all he could really ask for.

Ashton Vargas

Simple and robust, Vargas doesn't care much about the lack of extra fins. He's built for speed and strength, not dexterity, and he believes his tail is perfect for what he's "designed" for.

Divus Crewel

Very shiny, Crewel takes amazing and precise care of his tail. Like Vargas, he doesn't care about the lack of fins. In fact, the wide main fin is perfect for splashing water in the faces of his unsuspecting merfolk student's faces when they're not paying attention in class.

Sam

The Voodoo King himself can't have a basic and boring tail, now can he? Of course not. Its colors are vibrant and striking, and the bone-like patterns give off an eerie sort of vibe that makes others somewhat cautious for seemingly no reason.

× BONUS ×

Ortho Shroud

His tail is light and fluttery, easy to move around with, the many ends of the fin flow like little tips of fire in the water. Sometimes he wishes his tail was more like Idia's, but he does like the bright blue, as he feels it makes him more alluring and approachable.

Khian Samad (Student OC)

His tail is smooth when moving through the water, the feathered tips of his fins giving the "owl illusion," making his movements quiet as a mouse, ideal for stealth and precision and giving him the element of surprise.

Griswold Fabien (Faculty OC)

Many fins allow for him to make tight turns, as he's more inclined for dexterity over speed. The greyscale patterns provide good camouflage against reef rocks and in deep caves, which some may see as "predatory," but he's a gentle merman with a kind heart.

×~~~✓\~~~~~~~~~~✓\~~~×

Yall should i give you guys my OC info?? I tried to draw Khian once but i failed miserably LMFAOOOOO. But tbh I'm obsessed with Savanaclaw and TWST beastmen so HINT HINT both of my OCs are beastmen. Anyway, that's it for the TWST Tails series, make sure to vote on my poll on Part 1 and lmk which fandom i should do next! Love you guys!

[autumnshighlady]

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (chapter 1, REVISED)

hey everyone, so the poll was almost 50/50 but my lovely gift anon had the suggestion of posting a chapter to get everyone hyped up for the new version of my beloved story. and so here it is, the first chapter of IALTPWF, rewritten and redone <3

meet Elara, my OC. i hope you guys like her <3

word count: 5.2k

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

Three months.

As the sun peaked in the sky above, Elara knew from the faint handmade scratches in the wall beside her bed that today marked three months since she ended up in the Night Court. Three months since her old friend, Lucien, had found her. She had been bloodied and battered, half-dead amidst the ruins of which once was her small village in the Spring Court. What had started as Lucien simply journeying to check on the High Lord, Tamlin, in an attempt to rebuild their relationship turned into a rescue mission in wake of Hybern’s recent warpath. Elara had found out soon after that she was the only survivor, but barely. All she remembered was the sound of Lucien’s panicked voice, and the sensation of a world spinning as he winnowed her away.

She did not remember much about her arrival in the Night Court, aside from the occasional scents of ointments as healers tended to her broken, starved body. She was in and out of consciousness for a few days, never staying awake for more than five minutes at a time. During those brief waking moments, Lucien had explained that she was at a fortress called the House of Wind, in the high mountains above the main city. But her body was too weak, too worn down to give her the strength to protest being held in an enemy court. She hated it here. Despised the stifling air of her small healer’s room. The walls were too close, threatening to collapse in on her at any moment. The chilly mountain air stung her throat, the absence of her home’s familiar flowery scent aching deep within her. All she wanted was the comfort of her mother, her father, or someone from home to tell her that this was all just a bad dream. But it wasn’t. Elara was in enemy territory, at the mercy of a High Lord who played games with lives. And a High Lady who shattered the Spring Court and left its people to bleed. Part of her wished Lucien had left her to die there. The thought brought shame over her, the guilt of being the only survivor screaming at her that she was ungrateful for this second chance. 

But after a week, Elara had been strong enough to get out of bed, deemed well enough by a firm but kind healer to officially meet with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.

To say it had gone poorly had been an understatement. From the beginning, Elara could see the disdain in the Night Court leaders’ eyes as they learned her to be from the Spring Court, their judgement palpable as if she, not her leader, had been the one who had locked Feyre in that manor after the escape from Under the Mountain. Rage had coiled in her cut as she stared down the High Lady, angry at how she lived her life without remorse for what she had done to the people of Elara’s court.

“Glad to see you are awake and well.” Rhysand had said, no warmth to be found in his violet eyes. 

“Spare me your false sympathies, High Lord, I do not need them.” Elara had snapped out in response. Despite the ground still swaying beneath her, she had stood as tall as she could manage. Her limbs had been weak, bones and muscles trembling like paper with the effort. Her once shining, almost dark auburn, brown hair was dull and lifeless. The dark circles under her eyes were prominent, her face hollow like wraith’s. Yet still, she had stood firm, spurred on by the anger at the two fae in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she had seen Lucien giving her a pleading look, begging her not to start this argument now.

But she had anyway. Elara did not want to be in the Night Court, forced to rely on the generosity of the female who destroyed her court and the male who delighted in cruelty. Everyone in Prythian knew what Tamlin had done to Feyre, how he locked her up in the manor. Truthfully, Elara could not blame her anger – it had been wrong for the Spring High Lord to lock his bride-to-be up. 

But Feyre Archeron had elected to take her revenge on the people of Spring Court. She had sunk her claws in and deliberately opened it up like a wound, allowing Hybern to take advantage of its weakness and go on a slaughtering rampage, one that had almost gotten Elara killed. And yet Feyre was hailed as a hero for destroying a court of innocent people just to get back at its leader. The thought made Elara’s stomach churn, remembering the terrified faces of her friends and family as their throats were slit by Hybern soldiers who laughed as their blood spilled onto their armour. All because of the High Lady of the Night Court.

And so she had not held back her hostility, letting her hatred and anger spill from her lips. “Am I supposed to thank you?” She had scoffed at the High Lady, rolling her hazel eyes. 

“That would be a start.” Feyre had said tersely, looking down her nose at Elara. “You are in my court, after all, being taken care of by my healers.”

Elara had snorted, letting out a dry laugh. “You are the reason I am here, High Lady. Because you let your petty revenge fantasies destroy my court and slaughter my village, my family, everything I loved.”

Feyre had stiffened, eyes shifting to her mate for support.

“You will not speak to her like that.” Rhysand had growled, letting his power fill the room in an attempt to intimidate Elara.

“Or what, you’ll kill me?” The words left Elara at rapid fire before she could stop to contemplate her situation, biting back with no remorse. “You have no problem letting people from Spring Court die, so go for it. Maybe killing another one of us will make you feel better.”

Lucien had intervened at this point, trying to ease the tension before it got out of hand. But Elara continued to stare down at the High Lord and Lady, wishing she were anywhere else but in this wretched court. She knew that the only reason she was still alive was because if they killed her, Lucien would be less inclined to work with them. And for whatever reason, they needed him on their side.

And that is how Elara had ended up at the House of Wind, having graduated to the privilege of a guest room rather than the healer’s chamber. It was spacious enough, a large bed with a fireplace in the corner and windows that encompassed a view of the mountains. Now strong enough, Elara could go where she pleased within the High Lord’s residence, but that was all. The High Lord and Lady claimed she was not a prisoner. But she knew that they were well aware she was too weak to tackle the 10,000 steps down into the city. And no doubt there were eyes everywhere, watching her every move and reporting back to Rhysand. So yes, she was essentially a prisoner despite her pretty cage, and she had told them as much right before they winnowed away. As he was not so subtly ushered away by Feyre, Lucien had promised he’d come visit her. But when he didn’t, Elara began to suspect that the High Lord and Lady had deliberately been keeping him busy.

So with her strength returned but her life seemingly shackled to this grand residence, Elara wandered aimlessly around the estate. It was admittedly beautiful, but the opposite of everything she was used to. Everything felt colder, darker, like there was an axe above her head waiting to fall the second she put a foot wrong. Every day, her mind buzzed like a swarm of bees, angry thoughts filled with resentment that she was stuck in the court ruled by the female who had torn her own court apart. She barely ate, her time mostly consisting of sitting on the reading nook by one of the large windows, staring out at the mountains beyond. The food was beautiful, but she barely tasted it on her tongue. Nothing soothed that ache she felt in her chest, nor did anything bring her comfort as she cried herself to sleep every night. What little sleep she got was disrupted by night terrors, waking her up in a cold sweat. 

Her life became a predictable routine. Like clockwork, she would head to the nearby kitchen where breakfast was laid out for her. She would push it around on her plate, stomaching what she could before going for her usual walk. Down the hallway by the paintings she would go, before coming to a grand staircase and walking up it to the upper floor. She would wander through the always empty study area, noting the magnificent maps and artifacts yet not once touching anything. She felt like a ghost, drifting from one end of the house to the other before settling in the reading nook until sunset. There, she would curl up, staring out the windows yet seeing nothing. 

One day, things changed. Normally, nobody bothered Elara while she stared out of the window, the only other signs of life in the reading room being the occasional servant passing through. On a rainy afternoon, she decided to crack open one of the books on the shelf and begin reading. She was a few chapters into the mystical romance novel when she heard footsteps approaching, stopping a few feet away from her. Normally, she would have ignored the other presence in the room, but something in her chest pulled at her like a string, urging her to turn around. 

And so Elara did, and she was faced with the most beautiful female she had ever seen.

She was tall and lean, dressed in a dark blue gown with long sleeves and a collar around her elegant neck. Her face was sharp and her hair was a rich caramel shade, braided in a crown around her head. Those slate-coloured eyes glinted, staring Elara down with an intensity that she imagined made most fae shuffle on their feet with uneasiness. But it was a different intensity than the High Lord and Lady’s gazes, and rather than fear, she felt only awe.

“You are Lucien’s friend.” The female finally spoke. Her expression was unreadable, and she was as still as a statue.

“Yes.” Elara had said, meeting her gaze. The tall female was enchanting, and Elara’s heart fluttered at the sound of her cool voice. She was silent for a moment longer before speaking again.

“I heard you caused some upset with my sister and her mate.”

A bell pinged in Elara’s head as she put the pieces together. Lucien had mentioned Feyre’s older sister, not that she needed an introduction to her. Everyone across Prythian had heard of the female who severed the King of Hybern’s head from his body, whose eyes glowed with silver fire from the Cauldron itself. 

Elara was unsure of what to say. Part of her worried that Nesta would look at her with the same disdain as her sister had, but the other part of Elara knew that she wouldn’t. For some reason, Nesta was in the same position as her, a prisoner in the House of Wind while her sister was free to wander the city below, apparently painting away in her new grand estates according to Lucien’s last letter. The thought had made Elara seethe with rage, knowing so many fae like herself were still suffering from the war, with no money and no support.

The silence slowly ate away at her, until Nesta finally spoke.

“Good.” Was all she said before turning away and walking out of the room.

And that was the beginning of Elara and Nesta. Over the next three weeks, they saw each other more. It started with Nesta asking what Elara was reading, and suggesting other stories for her to read. And then, the Cauldron-made female began joining her, sitting in silence in the chair across from Elara as they both read their books. Eventually by the fourth week, Elara found herself leaving the room and going to the library with the older Archeron sister, or sipping tea on the balcony. 

For the first while, the two of them spoke little. It was not an uncomfortable silence though. The females simply sat contently in each other's presence. And Elara realized that it was nice to have someone else around who wasn’t a servant scurrying about, especially one that didn’t worship the ground that the High Lady and Lord walked on. But after another month of quiet companionship, careful conversation began. Initially, it began as mere discussions of the books. But over time, it lead to grow more personal. While Nesta revealed little about herself, Elara found herself explaining her situation in as few words as possible. She had tensed, expecting judgement or sly comments. But Nesta had merely nodded before changing the topic.

One day, the ‘inner circle’, as Nesta explained they called themselves, arrived at the House of Wind for dinner. Lucien had informed Elara earlier that morning, sheepishly explaining that not attending wasn’t an option. Apparently the rulers of the Night Court wanted to build relations with her – which she knew was just code for seeing if they could use her connections to the Spring Court to their advantage.

Elara snorted, making a crude comment about the sheer balls of the High Lord and Lady. But she was in no position to argue, no matter how she felt. The dinner was an unavoidable test, and it would happen no matter what. And Elara’s future would undoubtedly be decided.

****************

Elara stood in front of the cracked mirror in her room, examining the dress that one of the servants had brought earlier. It was black, with a deep V-neck and a thick band around her waist. The sleeves were made of sheer material that hung loose around her arms and gathered at the wrist. She could not deny that it was a nice dress, but there was a bitter taste in her mouth regardless. She knew that  it was selected to make her feel like she was part of the Night Court. 

I am not a part of this court, and I will never be, Elara thought to herself, biting her bottom lip nervously. In her broken reflection, she could see that despite the months spent healing from her injuries, she still looked no more than an ancient ghost. Her collarbones jutted out slightly, her ribs more visible underneath the tight fabric. Those dark circles made her deep-set hazel eyes appear sunken, their presence unyielding no matter how much sleep she got. She was a shell of herself, an unrecognizable thing staring back in the cracked mirror.

Having no energy to deal with her wavy hair, Elara decided to leave it unbound. With a shaking hand, she opened her door and exited her room, leaving behind the warmth of the fireplace. Another click of a door closing caused Elara to turn her head. A few feet away, Nesta stood in the hallway, her room being one down from Elara’s apparently, a discovery they had made last week. 

Nesta’s dress was similar to the blue one Elara had met her in, only it was a shade of deep grey, and the thin neckline plunged to her navel. Nesta’s hair was braided in her usual style, but dark circles haunted the skin under her eyes akin to your own. Elara knew Nesta had not been sleeping, often hearing her toss and turn all night from the other side of the wall. From what she gathered from their conversations, Nesta was in a somewhat similar position as her. And the look on Nesta’s face told Elara that the Archeron sister was dreading this dinner more than she was.

“Hey.” Elara said softly. Nesta’s gaze met hers, silver eyes glazed as if they were staring right through her.

But Elara’s heart nearly shattered at how broken she looked. Nesta’s story had been whispered in the winds of the Spring Court, but she hadn’t dared ask her about it. How awful it must have been to be stolen from one’s bed – bodily autonomy stripped away from you as you were turned into something else. She did not look like the fierce Kingslayer the rumours spoke of, or the mean, nasty female that cut people down with her words, but rather a shell of a person who was seconds away from crumbling into nothing.

“Are you ready?” Elara asked through a dry throat.

Nesta was utterly still for several moments. For a second, Elara wondered if she’d turn around and simply return to her room, abandoning the idea of enduring the dinner altogether. 

But then, Nesta nodded stiffly, and Elara extended her hand before she could think twice. She froze, cringing at herself for the gesture. Part of her was afraid she’d scoff at the gesture, lashing out and storming away and leaving Elara alone and embarrassed. Embarrassment began to flush in her cheeks, but she could not pull her hand back. Nesta was the only connection she had to this world, with Lucien no longer visiting her. In such a short time and with nobody else by her side, it dawned on Elara that Nesta had become a lifeline for her. A lifeline she was extending her hand to not just for Nesta’s sake, but for her own.

To Elara’s surprise, Nesta slid a bony hand into hers. It was ice cold and shaky, so she gave it a gentle squeeze.

“We can face them together,” Elara assured her. “I don’t know what went down between you and the Night Court, but I’ll be with you the whole time.”

Nesta’s eyes cleared as she turned her gaze back towards her. She blinked once, as if she was making sure Elara was real, standing there holding her hand.

“And I’ll be with you.” Elara continued, her voice shaking slightly as she tilted her chin up. “Now let’s get this over with.”

Nesta was as stiff as a board as they walked, her chin held high as if preparing herself to face a mortal enemy. Her eyes were glassy and clouded, as if a foggy haze was wrapped around her brain trapping her in her own thoughts. Elara was the opposite, jittering with nerves and shaky legs. If her hand began to sweat in Nesta’s, the female made no comment. Every step towards the dining hall echoed like a war drum. The sound of laughter and a mix of familiar and unfamiliar voices grew closer and closer, and you fought every instinct to run.

Tentative hand in hand, Elara and Nesta silently strolled down the fire-lit hallway until they got to the large doorway of their destination, bracing themselves for whatever the next hours would bring.

*************

Elara stifled a laugh at the expressions when she and Nesta pushed their way through the grand doors and walked into the dinning room, hands entwined. At the table, Rhysand and Feyre sat side by side at the head, dressed in glamorous black attire. The High Lord’s violet eyes simmering at the sight of Elara and Nesta side by side, while Feyre’s were wide with surprise. There was an empty space next to Feyre, no doubt intended for Nesta, and on the other side of the seat was a blonde female wearing a red dress with a plunging neckline. Elara immediately recognized her as the Morrigan. Her neck and wrists cluttered with gold jewelry, and her face was undeniably gorgeous, save for the confused look that was written across her features. She also recognized the familiar figures of Cassian and Azriel, who sat next to the blonde, also looking surprised. The one with long hair, Cassian, who Elara had met in passing a few times but said nothing to, paused halfway through sipping his glass of wine. His eyes were wholly focused on Nesta, and the jealousy pooling in them didn’t go unnoticed by both Elara and Nesta, who stiffened and clenched her free hand. Beside him, Azriel showed less surprise. Elara had also met him a few times, and he was the one member of the Inner Circle that she could tolerate, as he didn’t say anything to her. He merely blinked once, an unreadable expression on his face, and a shadow curled around his neck.

To Rhysand’s right was a small female with short black hair and red lips. It was Amren, Elara figured. A look of disgust crossed her face, and Nesta’s eyes narrowed. Clearly, something had gone down between the two of them. Next to Amren was a male with dark skin and white hair, looking very uncomfortable. Lucien sat next to him, looking like he was going to burst out laughing any second. Another empty chair was next to Lucien, clearly intended for Elara.

Silence filled the room for what could have been an eternity until Feyre spoke up.

“Nesta, Elara,” The High Lady said, voice light and airy. “We are so glad you could join us.”

Nobody else said anything, and Elara could practically feel Nesta’s panic through her palms. She was looking at the seat meant for her, between her sister who locked her up here and a female who clearly disliked her. 

After squeezing Nesta’s hand, Elara let go and walked over to the chair beside Feyre. Confused, the entire table watched as she grabbed the back of the fancy-looking chair and dragged it away, not caring about the ear splitting scraping sound it made on the stone floor. The joy brought a jolt of satisfaction through her. Wordlessly, she pulled it to the other end of the table, opposite of Rhys and Feyre but next to the empty chair beside Lucien, who coughed into his arm to conceal his laugh. Every second of that silence was an ironic reminder of how little she cared for the pretentious gathering. To her, the harsh scraping was a small victory in comparison to the streak of defeat she had been enduring. 

Elara looked back towards Nesta, whose lips twitched upwards for a split second as she strode over to the newly placed chair, smoothing her skirts as she sat down in it. Satisfied with the new arrangement, Elara took her seat. She fought back a laugh at her own amusement, focusing on arranging her skirts nicely to conceal it. 

After more moments of dumbstruck quiet, it was Varian who finally broke the silence, asking Feyre about her art. Everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at the lack of explosive comments. As servants brought rich-smelling food to the table, conversation flowed everywhere but in the direction of Elara and Nesta.

And Elara was perfectly fine with that, and she knew Nesta was too. The silence between them was comfortable and familiar, but neither of them touched their food. The rich scents were almost overwhelming, the anxiety over this dinner overshadowing your hunger. Elara wanted to scream at them to drop the facade of a friendly dinner and to be forthcoming with what they really wanted. But doing so would get her nowhere, so she bit her tongue. 

Besides, Being in the presence of the inner circle made Elara’s appetite nonexistent. So she pushed the veggies around her plate for the next half hour until plates were cleared, and the quiet end of the table was addressed for the first time.

“How’s the training going, Nesta?” Morrigan asked. It seemed genuine enough, but from the way Nesta tensed beside Elara, she could tell it was a pointed question.

“Wonderful.” Nesta said dryly, meeting her stare.

“What training?” Elara asked, confused. Not once had she seen Nesta with a blade, but whenever Cassian was on his way out of House of Wind, he stomped through the halls in a foul mood. Nesta even more so.

“Nesta’s learning how to fight,” Feyre said. “That’s why she’s here.”

“The training she’s apparently refusing to do.” Rhysand added.

Elara snorted. “Doesn’t the Night Court already have armies? I don’t see them here, if she was going to learn how to fight wouldn’t it be, you know, where the armies actually are?”

Rhysand’s eyes met hers. “Yes, we have armies,” He said in a low voice. “But Nesta needs to train anyway.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” Nesta hissed. 

“You do if you are in my court.” Rhysand growled.

“I did not ask to be here.”

Elara surveyed the table. Feyre’s eyes were red, as if she were about to burst into tears at any moment. Cassian looked concerned, while Mor and Amren seemed outright annoyed, huffing and puffing as they shook their heads. So many questions burned at Elara – why was Nesta being made to train to fight? Why here, locked away from the city? What happened between her and her sister?

Discreetly, Elara took Nesta’s hand under the table, rubbing a circle with her thumb. She felt a pair of almost glowing hazel eyes on her, and she looked up to see Azriel’s unreadable expression aiming right at her. But she decided to ignore it, focusing on Nesta’s touch instead.

I am with you, Elara reminded her through her gesture. 

“But why am I here?” Elara spoke up, trying to take the spotlight off of Nesta.. “I am healed now, why not send me back home? What reason do you have to keep me here?”

Another heavy silence filled the room, even Cassian had stopped eating. Eyes shifted, as if a silent conversation was occurring. Elara held her chin high, despite her nerves going haywire. The only people on her side at this table were Nesta and Lucien, both of whom already seemed kept at arms length by the Inner Circle to begin with. But she relented, facing the wolves that stared her down hungrily.

“We thought you might have some information about the Spring Court.” Rhysand began, clasping his hands together on the edge of the table. “Since you are here–”

Elara laughed sharply, cutting him off. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“I am not, and I suggest you listen.”

“Do you seriously think I’m going to betray my own court?” She spat, ignoring the High Lord. “Besides, isn’t Lucien the one with the job anyways?”

Her red-haired friend closed his eyes and sighed, no doubt knowing this was going to happen. Deep down, despite the weeks of no contact, she felt bad for him. It was no secret that Lucien was under no illusions that he was completely accepted in the Night Court. Just as no matter what happened tonight, Elara would never be either, not with their ties to Spring. Lucien was balancing on a wire, trying to help two courts who hated each other.

“Your father is one of Tamlin’s advisors,” Rhysand continued, ignoring Elara. “And Tamlin is an enemy. We just want to know–”

Rage pulsed through Elara at his cold, calculated words. She was glad that she did not possess any sort of magnificent power, because if she did, she was pretty sure the room would have erupted into flames.

“My father WAS one of Tamlin’s advisors,” Elara said tersely, ignoring the way the words hurt to drag out. “Now he is dead thanks to your High Lady destroying his court and leaving them vulnerable to Hybern. If you think I’m going to help you, you’re insane.”

“You will do as we say,” Rhysand growled, placing his hands on the table and standing up. “If you do not want to share what you know, we have other ways of getting it out of you. I have no problem going into that pretty head of yours and—”

Nesta stood up. “Do not threaten her.” She said, with the most vicious snarl Elara had ever seen. Silver fire glowed in her eyes, and she almost gasped at the sight. This was the power the Cauldron gave her, Elara realized. She looked like a goddess of war, staring at the High Lord with a challenge to dare lay a hand on either of them. 

“Or what, Nesta?” Rhysand asked, moving his arm to bring Feyre behind him. “What are you going to do?”

The entire table was still, as if bracing themselves to intervene if either fae launched themselves at one another. Elara had only known Nesta for just over two months, yet she was ready to challenge the High Lord in her defense, something which clearly confused the others at the table. The flames of the candles flickered angrily at the tense atmosphere, and Elara waited with bated breath. 

Despite her nervousness, Elara was grateful for Nesta’s support. The dynamic between the two of them was unique to any other friendship she had ever experienced, although she did not know if she could classify it as such. They were two females who had slighted the members of the court and forced into the House of Wind like dogs being sent to the kennel. And not to mention she still did not know much about how Nesta ended up in her situation.

For Elara, the Night Court saved her under the guise of a helping hand then planned to use it as leverage to try and get information on their enemy. It made her sick, how she was indebted to them and expected to be grateful. While the House of Wind was nice, she was a hostage there, just as much as Nesta. And Nesta was a much needed ally.

Caught between a mixture of wanting to defend herself and fearing what might become of her at Rhysand’s hands if she chose to do so, Elara shifted in her seat. Self preservation told her to be quiet, but she itched with the urge to pull Nesta back down into her seat, to fight her own battles. If Rhys wanted to smite her on the spot, he easily could. Not even Nesta could protect her from that. But the guilt relented – guilt at Nesta putting herself in a further precarious position with her sister’s family in Elara’s honour.

After several long moments, Nesta’s eyes returned to their original shade, whether it be from the High Lord’s magic demanding submission or her own volition. She cleared her throat, throwing one last glare across the table before grabbing Elara’s hand.

“Thank you for the meal, but I think we are done for tonight.” She said, pulling Elara up. She stumbled out of her chair slightly, confused but grateful all the same at Nesta’s need for a sudden departure. 

Elara didn’t bother turning around to see the faces of the Inner Circle as she fought to keep up with Nesta’s longer legs. Nesta led her out the door, her hand shaking slightly in Elara’s. The two walked in silence down the hallway towards their rooms, breaths unsteady in the thin mountain air. As they approached Elara’s door, Nesta dropped her hand rapidly before reaching for her own bedroom. 

“Nesta, I–” Elara turned to thank her after opening her door, and to ask if she was ok, but the female had already wordlessly stormed into her room and closed the door.

[the-hawthorns-ocs]

Soothsayer Spindle'stare

MY ABSOLUTE FAVE OC EVER! MY SKRUNKLY!!!!

Character Bio:

Kinship: The Hawthorns

Queer (loves wife <3); what's a gender? (agender); it/she

Age: 3 cycles, 11 moons; ~31 Hyrs

Voice Headcanon: Entrapta - She-Ra - And The Princesses of Power (but like if she smoked a pack-o-sigs a day???)

Title meaning: -stare = uhh stares, like a lot, its weird, does it blink???; Soothsayer specific -> this cat can see into your soul and across the vail of death and see what your future holds

Role: Soothsayer

Mother: River'riddle

Father: Monarch Bat'flight

Siblings: Monarch Light'fall

Mate: Worm'soil

Other notable kin: Heir Night (nephew)

Extra Notes: her name was originally Garlicnose but after a series of polls I have decided on Spindle'stare as it's new name! Hooray!

Character Summary:

this ones long bec she's my blorbo, sorry not sorry :P

Soothsayers are born absolute weirdos, that's actually how a Kinship can tell that a cat is probably a Soothsayer. They are all not entirely there, because they walk the line between the living and the dead, this gives them the gift of foresight into the future and the ability to commune with the dead, but it also makes them distant, odd, they act like their minds are often in a whole other plane from regular cats.

In Spindle'stare's case, its just really kooky, an absolute creature. Though she is also very traumatized, which is kinda a given for Soothsayers... but it's even worse for her. As a kit her connection to the Stars was almost entirely cut off, and was instead taken over by the Dark Maw... The Maw wanted control over the Hawthorns, and becoming their future Soothsayer's spiritual source was one of the best ways to do this.

Deep deep down I think that Spindle knows there is something off about her spiritual connection, but she doesn't really process this at all. She pretty much believes that she has a normal connection and is totally talking to the Stars and not the Dark Maw. Sometimes she gets a random breakthrough connection to the Stars and is bombarded by so many messages and warnings from the ancestors she is pretty much unable to process it and just becomes even more confused and overwhelmed, acting even more strange than normal.

As a result of the Dark Maw's hold on Spindle, the Soothsayer has not been able to aid the kinship in ways it should be able to. During Spindle's training and apprenticeship the Kinship went through a horrible illness that killed many many cats, everyone questioned why Spindle was unable to receive prophecies foretelling these deaths, or guiding them to a cure... Spindle was simply helpless and useless in a time what the kinship needed a spiritual guide the most... This event has left the Kinship not all too trusting of Spindle's guidance, and has left Spindle lost and confused as to why the Stars do not with to help her.

Though Spindle seems like an old kooky lady she is actually only around 4 cycles old aka. in her early 30s in human years. Spindle was littermates with Monarch Light'fall, they were extremally close, and Light was often the only one who could keep her stable, in the present, and more herself. Spindle was devastated at Light'fall's death and she fell deeper into the spiritual plane as a result, only Spinde'stare's mate Worm'soil is able to bring Spindle into clarity these days, and it is far more difficult to do so.

Spindle spends much of it's time with her mate Worm'soil, they are one of the few cats who are not creeped out by her, they understand her and love it deeply despite it's strangeness. They were childhood friends, and grew even closer during the era of illness in their youth... both of them bonded over the extreme pressure on them at the time, Spindle with the expectation of life saving prophecies and omens, and Worm with the health of the Kinship as a Healer apprentice.

The two of them are now two fucked up middle aged women(ish) who are just trying to survive their high stress roles in their very problematic kinship... They can often be found hanging out on their lonesome together, with Spindle buried in Worm's fluff <3

[fleetways]

OKAY! It’s time for the Chimera Baby Lore Post!!

🌼 How did you come up with the OC's name?

In both a meta and non-meta sense, Chimera Baby’s name is probably the most notable part about them. The name Chimera Baby is a reference to m-flo and LiSA’s Tripod Baby, ft in the game Shadow the Hedgehog. For over 6 months that was her official non-official name, as I couldn’t decide on a name for her. I received over 15 name suggestions, but in July I ran a poll at which point she was dubbed Mira!

As it turns out, Mira happens to be the name of a binary star system. Two stars in a dance doomed to end in supernova—rather fitting for a chimera character, wouldn’t you say? I like to imagine Shadow was the one to name Mira something meaningful and space-themed like that, meanwhile Sonic named the other child something totally arbitrary (“His name is Mochi because he's white lol”)

On that note, I’ve also decided Sonic calls Mira “Chili” exclusively, because its silly and he would. So Mira, Chimera Baby, CB, and Chili are all names she goes by!

🌸 How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

I like to depict them anywhere from baby to teenager, but in their most recent incarnation I’d say they’re somewhere between 15-17

💖 Do they have any love interest(s)?

At the moment no. She’s generally too aloof and off putting for anyone to approach her with romantic intent, but maybe in the future….

🍓What is their favorite food?

Strawberries and Triangle Chao Fruit

⭐️ What do they do for a living?

💥 Do they have any hobbies?

Besides combat training, CB enjoys the occasional outdoor activity. Sometimes her friends goad her into a game of soccer (which she is an absolute beast at), but she generally prefers solo sports such as archery, rock climbing, or hiking. Sometimes her brother convinces her to fish with him, but she finds it pretty boring (but would never turn him down)

💃 What do they do best?

Mira excels at hand-to-hand combat. As the reigning champion of Chao Karate, Mira takes their martial arts training very seriously. They also possess exemplary control over chaos energy, and incorporates this into their technique. While they may not be as fast as their fathers, they make up for it with not just raw power, but an extremely disciplined technique.

Her skills also happen to make her an amazing breakdancer, but she’ll break your face if you ask her to demonstrate.

☀️ What is one of your OC's best memories?

A tie between making her baby brother laugh for the first time and the time she drew first blood for the first time in a fight with Shadow

🌧️ What is one of your OC's worst memories?

The aftermath of almost drowning as a child after she saved a chao friend.

✍️ Is their current design the first one?

For the most part—I did redesign their shoes because originally they were rocking some McDonalds drip.

💡What originally inspired the OC?

This post i made ^^

Basically its a mix of me poking fun at the phenomena of Sonadow fan-children all looking kinda similar, and this plush reminding me of actual chimerism in animals and wanting to create a character with that characteristic! Over the months my ironic love for her has grown into genuine fondness—so while she remains primarily as a parody, she’s also a character I’m having fun exploring concepts with <3 Much like both Shadow and Sonic the Hedgehog, you can take her as seriously or not seriously as you wish!

👾 What genre do they belong in?

PS1-era graphics Jet Set Radio game

🏳️‍🌈 What is your OC's gender identity and sexuality?

Non-binary and trans (you decide what direction). And she’s bisexual bc i love bisexuals <3

🍃How many sibling does your OC have?

One little brother Mochi—he is a perfect angel who is also her closest friend. She adores him, but you wouldn’t know from seeing them interact.

⚠️ What is the OC's relationship w/their parents like?

So I mentioned that Mira was reared in a chao garden, where her dads basically only visited once every couple days if not longer (Sonic and Shadow are not very attentive parents, go figure). However, this was honestly a perfectly fine arrangement as I headcanon mobian children don’t need the same level of parental contact as human children (Hell, Cream is kind of an outlier FOR having a present parental figure in her life).

That being said, I imagine Shadow spent more time with her when she was really young before stepping away, which made her really latch onto Shadow more than Sonic during that time. Especially seeing as Sonic is the most laissez-faire parent ever but simultaneously was the type to abandon her on a floating platform in midair with a trail of badniks so she can learn how to homing attack.

Much like her father before her, her latent Black Arms genes have caused her to develop a burning desire to destroy Shadow—a fact that Shadow seems strangely indifferent about. While this fact has pretty much wrecked their previous relationship, there are circumstances where Mira will put aside her goal and work with Shadow against a common enemy or towards a common objective (of course, this doesn’t stop her from trying to stab him in the back during these operations).

Her relationship with Sonic has remained mostly the same, with Sonic treating her much more like a friend or little sister than a daughter. They have lunch together at least once a month, and usually she’ll go to him for advice on any social interaction matter—conversations that have become much more frequent now that she’s begun to make friends.

💗 What do you like most about the OC?

I think I popped off with her design—chimerism is such an interesting concept and I loved balancing her two sets of genes without making it seem too busy. I also love her dynamic of trying to kill Shadow and how you would think her growing up in chao garden basically alone would have contributed to that, but that's not the case at all she’s just like that <3

‼️ Who is your OC's arch-nemesis or rival?

Shadow the Hedgehog is her self-proclaimed nemesis, but she makes a fair share of enemies and rivals wherever she goes due to her punch-first-ask-questions-later attitude. One notable rival is another OC of mine named Sauvik the Badger—another cold and brooding anti-hero much like her. Sauvik and Mochi are something of a team, but being a protective big sister she wants him to stay away from her brother. This generally leads to a fight that Mochi is inevitably forced to break up.

⏰ How long have you had the OC?

She was created in January of 2023!

—

That’s all! Feel free to ask any other questions and remember to vote for her here!

@sonic-oc-showdown

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

https://www.tumblr.com/crookedkryptonitebeliever/748369881330843648/cyprus-is-the-type-of-man-we-all-love-in-theory?source=share

Hiii that was me and i have to say, its too far now and i hate cyprus lol. Also the only reason i voted for him in poll is bc he was the only oc of urs i knew since i was new to ur blog. The others i either couldnt find and im gonna be honest i never got into yves bc the amount of chapters for him was intimidating so therefore Cyprus was my only choice and now im feeling like id rather just not voted.

My masterlists

Welpz for Yves theres no right way or correct sequence to read his stuff, just the introduction is fine, and if u yearn to know more about mr Mommy u can peruse through my masterlist and another separard one jusr for Yves

Pretty much almost all the other posts about him are like "what if" scenarios or expansion of his lore

I have other ocs too that are uhhh unfortunately MOMMY and not bad boy daddy 😭 but here are the intro posts of my ocs

2023- 2024 generation

Yves - Mr mommy man

Montgomery - first cringefail yandere

Cyprus- the one i disliked the most

Blanche- mr grandmommy man

2022 generation

Yandere Best Friend- like it says on the tin, my most popular series in 2022

Language Barrier- was my second most popular series with a whole bunch of funny world building

Yandere Brother- it's not step brother, this is full blown incest

Yandere Hitman- its kind of a crackfic, i didn't take this very seriously

Leveret- one of the Mommy brothers (Yves and Blanche), it's actually a precursor of Yves, like most of Yves's personality and looks was born here

[thewickerking]

mutual 1: WDYM none of you have heard explosion gun ???? theyre from the 1930s, sure but they literally made the best song ever [long title or series of numbers that have no meaning]

mutual 2: hey guys can you fill out this survey for my class? its about 15 minutes and it would mean a lot!! i love you

mutual 3: ughhhhh can this guy stop flirting with me? i told him to kill himself after he said [horrifically racist sentence] and he hasnt gotten the hint

mutual 4: im liveblogging a game from 12 years ago if you dont want spoilers im tagging my posts about it as #plwm3 liveblog !!

mutual 5: [poll] should i brutally murder this oc before or after he gets divorced

mutual 6: ok I knowwww im learning 6 languages rn but it would be so fun to learn russian.....

mutual 7: what do you mean you freaks dont dip your bananas in orange juice??? This is literally so normal why are you call me the weird one

mutual 8: just finished meeting up with mutual 9 irl it was so fun im gonna miss you now that you're home again </3

mutual 9: mutual 8 locked me in a basement for 4 hours and played clown music. i wish i couldve stayed longer

mutual 10: OMG THE NEW TRAILER FOR BRIMBLUS JUST DROPPED?????? EVERYONEEE LOOOOOOOK

mutual 11: my dad got me a milkshake breakdown cancelled everyone 🎉🎉

mutual 12: this post reminds me of *******

mutual 13: mutual ^ is talking about scorblo btw

mutual 12: HEY???? MUTUAL 13???? CAN YOU KILL YOURSELF????

mutual 14: [describes the most horrific repeated childhood trauma] but idk if im allowed to say i have mental illness cause im not diagnosed

mutual 15: guys do you think im more blue or purple coded :3

mutual 16: in response to all the transformers fandom callout calling me lesbophobic and racist: [ten paragraphs that make it clear they're clearly the only normal person in this scenario]

mutual 17: wait you guys are actually going to pumpkin patches? i thought those were made up ive never seen a pumpkin irl before...

mutual 18: guys can anybody see me. Please. No one's responding am I shadowbanned or do you all hate me [they're shadowbanned]

mutual 19: ugh this one customer keeps brutally murdering our servers at the restaurant i work at i wanna quit sooo bad but i might get promoted soon so idk

mutual 20: [reblogs a web weaving post about judas] UGH i need to fuck him sloppy style and **** ****** ***** **** *** ***

mutual 21: spam reblogs a genshin character

mutual 22: [screenshot of mutual 21s blog with filtered tags of the characters] you're lucky i care about you so much.

mutual 23: i think im losing my grip on reality. omg wait but look at this cute dog i saw walking home the other day

mutual 24: hi everyone! i just got back from a 6 month social media break :) hope everyones been doing well!