Alright, so I was originally going to wait to post any new art of my OCs until all of the new references are finished, but I was able to commission the beautiful @ladykestrrel / @taylordraws a little while ago, and after a bit of a headache in regards to getting the finished reference sheets done, I was finally able to get her the sheets and the money necessary to make one of my dreams (getting art made for me by Taylor) a reality, and I can’t help but post it.

I guess I should take a minute to talk about the project these goobers are a part of, since Taylor said she was gonna reblog it, and that means some potential new eyes being cast upon my novel project’s characters! Yay!

That’s right, like Taylor, I’m working on a novel, though mines way different. It’s a sci-fi/adventure novel project, and the working title is “The Soundwave Saga.” You can read more about the project under the cut, since I don’t wanna text wall Taylor’s blog. Or any blog for that matter. Haha.

Keep reading

“Welcome back to the family!!!”


But the teacher had been right about one thing: violence breeds.
Someone pulls a trigger, sets off a bomb, drives a bus full of tourists off a bridge, and what’s left in the wake isn’t just shell casings, wreckage, bodies. There’s something else. Something bad. An aftermath. A recoil. A reaction to all that anger and pain and death.


Redesigned Book Covers: This Savage Song

But the teacher had been right about one thing: violence breeds. Someone pulls a trigger, sets off a bomb, drives a bus full of tourists off a bridge, and what’s left in the wake isn’t just she’ll casings, wreckage, bodies. There’s something else. Something bad. An aftermath. A recoil. A reaction to all that anger and pain and death.

retrouvailles (pt 1/4)

as promised, here is our new project in honor of the blog hitting 500 followers! this is going to be a four part installment that all of us have collaborated on. we are really excited about this and hope you guys will enjoy it! 

the piece is called retrouvailles and each of the four parts will be written by one of us: i have written the first, marlo will be writing the second, kaitlyn the third, and our lovely shannon will be bringing it to a close! here is part one! 

love always, mikayla (@cagedbirdsong)

“Yes, just the coffee please. Thank you, keep the change–yes, you too!” Claire offered a smile to the spritely young barista behind the counter, exchanged a handful of cash she still didn’t quite know how to count for the coffee, and turned only to crash directly into the stranger standing behind her.

Keep reading

retrouvailles (pt 2/4)

Hi folks! Its your second weein here, coming to you live with the second chapter of our 500 follower celebration fic! This chapter has been a bunch of firsts for me! It’s my first time writing something from a Jamie perspective, and my first time writing something a little steamier! As always, thanks to Kait, Shan, and Mik for editing, and I really hope you enjoy!

Lots of Love- Marlo ( @marlosbooknook )

Read Part 1–> Here

Jamie nervously paced the crowded restaurant. He was surrounded by a sea of strange faces, a cacophony of French, English, and God knows what other foreign languages. But the one person he so desperately wanted to see remained absent. Checking his watch and suppressing a groan,  he made his way over to the bar.

She’s not coming, you daft fool.

Still, some part of him hoped that she would make her way through the door, emerging from the fog of cigarette smoke, the flickering candlelight glinting off the streaks of auburn in her riotous curls.  Jamie sat at the bar, nursing a glass of whisky, dreamily reminiscing over the stranger who had (rather ungracefully) intruded his life with a scalding cup of coffee.

He checked his phone. Nothing.

I should send her a message, make sure nothing has gone amiss. What if she’s hurt? Or there’s been an accident? Lord, let her be safe…

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Jamie looked up with a start, nearly pouring his whisky on the beautiful creature perched beside him at the bar.  

How ironic.

“Jesus, Sassenach, ye nearly scared the life out o’ me!” He exclaimed. She had made it, and she looked just as elegant and picturesque as he had imagined; like a Greek statue in her black dress and strappy red heels–that just so happened to complement the crimson tie he had selected for the occasion. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, but a few curls hung loose around her face, gently caressing her ivory skin. Jamie could imagine gently tucking the strand behind her ear, and how soft the flesh at the nape of her neck would be to the touch as he so gently skimmed his hand over it.

That’s enough, Fraser.

Sassenach? Gaelic, I assume? I sincerely hope you weren’t insulting me for my lateness. Navigating the metro is nearly impossible; I nearly ended up on the other side of Paris!”

“Och. I could never insult you, late as ye may be. Sassenach means outlander ye ken… I’d wager to say that we both fit that description right about now. Now, how about I buy you a wee dram to thank ye for allowing a mere stranger to admire your beauty.”

He could see a blush paint it’s way up Claire’s neck and across her skin. The lass has a glass face, to be sure. And a bonnie one at that.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” She waited until the bartender returned with her drink in hand. “And I wouldn’t call us strangers anymore, Jamie; I’d say that we’ve become rather acquainted  ever since I drenched your crisp white shirt with my americano. Glad to see you were able to find a replacement, by the way.”

She reached over and gave a quick tug on Jamie’s collar. He swallowed hard. Never in his life had he felt such an inexplicable, divine connection. Not with any of the girls his sister had tried so desperately to set him up with, nor with Annalise, his first and only comfort in Paris. Claire was nothing like them; a different creature entirely. He wished he had his camera on hand so he’d be able to capture every movement she made, every little sparkle in her amber eyes. Whether it be through fate, luck, or even pure chance, James Fraser had found his muse.

“Come, Claire, I’ve a surprise for you.”

A bemused look crossed her face, as Jamie took her hand (how perfectly it fit in his own), and helped her dismount from the barstool. As she stood,  Jamie was able to admire her once more. The dress was simple, yet it clung to her every curve, and every move she made sent a shiver down Jamie’s spine and a stirring in the pit of his stomach. She turned to retrieve her clutch from the counter and Jamie couldn’t help but stare at the slinky black fabric showcasing her glorious round arse. What he would give to feel it under his hands…

Claire turned suddenly, and Jamie quickly averted his eyes. A knowing smirk crossed her lips.

Cunning wee temptress.

“Lead the way, soldier.” Claire said, a mock salute causing Jamie to break out into a grin. She linked her arm through his, and together the pair made their way through the crowd. Muffled conversations came to an abrupt halt as they made their way past.

Claire leaned in. “Is it just me,” she whispered, “Or are they staring at us?”

“They’re staring at you, Claire. Wait just a moment and you’ll ken why…”

As they drew closer to the back of the room, the crowd dispersed, allowing the artist and his subject prime access to the display. From floor to ceiling, prints of various sizes stretched along the wall. Blurs of motion and vibrant colors greeted Jamie as he stared at the compilation of two years of dedication.  There were scenes of Parisians strolling along the Seine, freshly baked macaroons sitting in a bakery display, a couple clutched candidly in a passionate embrace. And right in the center, the star piece among the endless sea of photos, was a girl clutching a cup of coffee, eyes gazing playfully over the rim, with streams of curls flaring out from either side. Jamie watched as Claire’s eyes darted over the photos, gasping when she spotted her own.

“Is- is that from today?” She asked.

“Aye. I hope you dinna mind me using it without yer permission. The lighting was just so perfect and weel… There was something missing from the collection until that photo. Until you, Claire.”

There was no response, and Jamie felt his heart drop.

“But if ye dinna approve, I can take it down this instant. I would never wish to offend you–”

“No,” she said quietly. “Please, don’t take it down. It’s lovely. It’s just…”

“It’s just… what?”

“It’s just… that girl in the photograph; that’s not me. She’s so beautiful and full of light… I could never look like that.”

Jamie stared at her in disbelief. How could she not see the radiance exuding from within her? He grabbed her face, forced her to look him in the eyes as he used his thumb to wipe away the single tear trailing down her cheek.

“But that is you, Claire. You are that woman. D’ye ken what I named that photo?” She shook her head meekly. “It’s called Sorcha–your name, in Gaelic. It means light… and ye’ve so much light inside of ye. More light and radiance than I could ever capture on film, no matter how hard I tried. You are the most beautiful thing I ‘ave ever beheld; the very thing missing from all of these photographs. I will’na rest until ye see yourself as the rest of these people see you. As I see you.”

He stopped as Claire’s lips crashed onto his, the sweet taste of her muddled with the whisky on her tongue and the salt of her tears. He leaned in, soaking in the feel and taste of her, praying that he would drown in her embrace. She pulled away first, begrudgingly, but self-conscious of the eyes trained on her back, watching the spectacle.

Jamie whispered into her hair, “Come to my studio tomorrow. Let me prove to you how magnificent you are.”

Jamie sat in his overcrowded loft, eyes trained to the pattering rain rolling lazily down the window pane. The smell of developer filled his nostrils, a new batch of photos waiting to be brought to life sitting haphazardly on a crowded table. But they would have to wait. The ticking of the clock was a metronome, slowly driving Jamie mad.  Would Claire do what he had asked of her? He remembered the fear in the pit of his stomach as he asked her the previous night; absolutely dumbfounded when she agreed. Now, all he had to do was wait.

There was a knock at the door: a series of sharp, quick raps that sent Jamie scrambling out of his folding chair and racing toward the door. Claire stood on the other side, rain dripping off of her yellow jacket, the hood pulled unceremoniously over her head.

“It’s raining.” She said stupidly, unable to conjure up anything else as Jamie ushered her inside, hanging her coat up on the dusty rack near the door.

“Aye. I can see that.” He stifled a grin and felt Claire giggle. There was a tension in the air, the unaddressed question of whether or not they would follow through with their original plan looming over their heads. Claire looked frightened, her eyes flitting about the room, absorbing the array of equipment and antique furniture strewn about the flat.

“Lovely little space you have.” She said, walking around the room and running her fingers over the carved wood of a Victorian chair.

“‘Tis a wee bit cramped for my liking, but it serves its purpose. Should I gain a bit of notoriety, perhaps I’ll be able to afford something a bit larger.”


Jamie could see that he needed to take charge; she needed him to guide her. He cautiously made his way to her side, gently laying a hand on her shoulder.

“We dinna have to do this, Claire.”

“No.” She turned around, finally meeting his eyes. “I want to do this. I want to know what it is you see in me.”

Jamie breathed a sigh of relief, but the flutter of nerves failed to leave his stomach.

“Then let’s begin.”

Jamie busied himself setting up his camera, choosing the perfect spot between the window and the wall. He imagined what Claire was doing just a room away, slowly shedding off her cocoon of clothing. It had taken a lot of convincing to get Claire’s acquiescence to his plan, but he had never been more sure of anything in his life.

They strolled out of the restaurant the night before, Jamie gently trying to coax Claire into his plan.

“I want to take your photograph, capture your likeness for all eternity.”

“You’ve already taken my picture. What would be so different this time around?”

“I want it to be staged. To capture you in all of your glory. You look like a goddess Claire, a grecian statue, and I want to create that illusion in print. With you.”

Claire looked at him in confusion.

“A Grecian statue? Somehow I find it incredibly difficult to picture myself looking like one of them. Besides, weren’t those all…nude?”

Jamie stopped cold. He had hoped that he would be the one to mention the caveat of his endeavor.

“Aye. They are. And, weel, I was hoping…” He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, unsure of how Claire would respond to his… forward request.

“You want to photograph me? Naked? Jamie… I… don’t know if I can do that. I barely know you.”

“But you trust me?” He asked, hopeful. She looked at him, unsure, then bit her lip in thought. He desperately wanted her to say yes, for his own selfish pleasure of seeing her naked in the flesh, but more importantly to allow her a glimpse of the radiance from within her. All he wanted was for Claire to see herself in the same way that he did.

The pair paused, standing shoulder to shoulder along the Seine. A boat drifted lazily past, the echoes of music and lively conversation momentarily filling the silence between them. In the distance, the lights of the Eiffel tower twinkled like lights on a Christmas tree. What Jamie would give to have had his camera to capture the magic of the moment.  

Claire gazed wistfully over the water, lost in thought. All Jamie wanted to do was reach out and touch her, lay a hand reassuringly on her shoulder and confirm that she had nothing to fear from him. That he would be there for her always. That he loved her. But he couldn’t say that. Not yet, anyways. Claire needed to come to this decision on her own. He couldn’t be responsible for forcing her into a situation where she felt uncomfortable or scared. So he waited.

After what felt like an eternity, Claire at last turned to face him. The light danced in her eyes, and Jamie could feel himself going weak at the knees. He grabbed the railing for support.

“Jamie,” she began, hesitantly. “I do trust you.”

He felt himself exhale.

“I’ll do it.” She said, slowly growing more confident in her words. “But you have to promise me, that this will stay between the two of us.”

“Aye. I would’na have it any other way. Thank ye, Claire. You will not regret this. I can promise ye that.”

She linked her fingers through his own as they they continued their walk.

“Don’t make promises you cannot keep…”

Jamie was so lost in his memories of the night before, he hadn’t noticed Claire until she strolled up behind him.

“I want you to draw me like one of your French girls.” She whispered in his ear, a small laugh escaping her as she spoke.

Jamie whipped around. There she stood, completely nude; her hands gracefully placed over her chest and abdomen. He felt his eyes tracing and lingering over every inch of her, wishing to remain in that moment for eternity. Every single curve and line and ridge on her perfect flesh. His trousers suddenly seemed to be a bit tighter. He said a Hail Mary.

“Jesus Claire…” He murmured, half to himself. What did he do to deserve this nymph, this human Aphrodite before him?

“Is this ok? Will it look alright?”

“Better than alright, but I canna promise to fulfill your Jack Dawson fantasies.” She smiled. “Come. Stand in front of the camera.”

She moved slowly, unsure of her steps. If Eve had existed, unsure and soft footed in the garden of Eden, Jamie swore she would have looked just like Claire in that moment. She positioned herself, her hands still covering the most private and intimate parts of her, directly in front of Jamie. God, what he would give to touch her… Her eyes were wide and innocent, her curls splayed haphazardly around her face, a stray lock clinging to her skin, still damp from the rain.

“Don’t move, just like that.” The camera clicked.

“Was that good?” Claire inquired, frozen where she stood.

“Perfect.” Jamie responded earnestly. “Now, turn and look out the window. Yes, just like that, dinna change a thing.”

Her body turned at an angle, and he could see the elegant curve of her spine, leading down to the smooth expanse of her arse. A gray light passed through the rain on the window, sending translucent specks of light dancing across her hand. She moved her hand, ever so slightly, and Jamie could faintly see the pink of her nipple, peeking from in between her graceful fingers. Speckles of gooseflesh rippled up and down her arm, making the soft hairs stand at attention. She tilted her head to look at him, seeking reassurance in her actions, and her hair fell across her face like a waterfall of decadent chocolate.

Jamie could hardly concentrate, transfixed by the masterpiece before him. Never, in all his years, had he seen a woman so perfect in form, and never had he had the opportunity to capture the image of such a goddess. Until now. He stared through the viewfinder of his camera making sure everything was perfect, down to the last detail. The camera clicked once more. She turned again to face him, and he felt himself go weak in the knees. Yet, she still looked so unsure, so dissatisfied with herself. It needed it change.

“Move your hand. I want to see you.” She hesitated, taking a step backwards until she was flush against the peeling white plaster of the wall.

“Jamie,” She said, her voice hushed and somber. “I can’t. You don’t want to see me.”

Jamie stepped out from behind the camera, crossing over to where Claire stood in just a few strides. He placed his hands on her hips, slowly running his fingers up until they met hers, draped across her breasts.

“Yes, I do. I want to see ye. To touch ye. More than anything I have ever wanted in my life. Will ye let me?”

Claire inhaled sharply, staring into his azure eyes before nodding almost imperceptibly.

Slowly, never once taking his eyes off of Claire’s, Jamie linked his fingers with hers, gently lowering her arms until they lay limp at her side. He could see her fighting the urge to raise them again, but it faded as he slowly put a hand to her breast, running his thumb over her nipple. He caressed the skin around it before delicately running his hand down her torso, stopping at her navel.

“May I?”

“Yes.” She breathed. If there was a line, they had crossed it a hundred times over.

His hand continued along its path, grazing the inside of her thighs before reaching their destination. Claire gasped, her arms snaking around Jamie’s neck and hands rooting into his hair.

“Jamie, ” she murmured longingly. She pressed against him as he went on, feeling him hard against her abdomen.

“Jesus… God, Claire. I want ye so badly.”

“Then have me. I’m yours.”

That was all he needed to hear. He ached for her, felt himself bursting at the seams to be one with her. He needed her like he needed air. Craved her like an addict awaiting his next fix. Is this love? He wondered to himself. It had to be, for never had he felt an inexplicable pull like this before.

His lips met hers with an all consuming fire. He poured everything he had into that kiss, spilling his very soul into her. She reciprocated in kind, clutching him like a feral animal.  They held each other close and felt things that they had never felt before. The purest ecstasy of passion as they came together again and again.

Together, they were a masterpiece.