#and moth had their own oc shipped with blade

[myricart]

27022024 — a few jing yuan doodles ( with a glimpse of my self insert ) kjhgvfgbh ( the second one is the result of brainrot after brainrot with @silentmoths on discord so uh...martial god au??? ).

[aftergloom]

Little Death God [Feral Opress x OC]

Pairing: Feral Opress x OC (Kai Dara Koth) Universe: Crown of Horns (Star Wars canon-divergent AU. 17 BBY) Rating: Mature Word Count: 579 Warnings: Blood (mention only) through combat

For @starwars-oc-ship-week, Day 02: Person B

Feral hauled himself hand over hand over the stone entablature, coming to rest at a crouch at the edge where he could peer down at his brother’s work. The sounds of his lightsaber had dulled to a menacing hum as Savage slashed the air, the red glow of the blade in the dark making wide arcs — and engaged mid-dance as he was, a smaller body flitting around him like a moth, Feral registered the whip and recoil of a warrior using Savage’s size against him.

They were fast, and slight, and had forgone the blasters at their hips for a crackling vibroglaive to go hand to hand, which made each duck and slash and parry look like a death wish.

He thought he spotted the hilt of another weapon snugged between their shoulder blades, but the rest of the details of the fight were little more than an obscured smear at this distance.

What was clear was that the smaller combatant was trying to run Savage ragged: wear him down so they could find a sliver of vulnerability to exploit — but one flick of Savage’s wrist would flatten their efforts and their bones, so why was he playing with them?

The answer wasn’t immediately apparent, but Feral found it in the stiff jerk and straightening of his brother’s stance, the regulated grunt of effort through a helmet carrying across the distance between them, and the delayed touch of Savage’s fingers to his ribs.

Feral leaned forward, the sense that not all was well with the fight concluding seeping through him like a chill.

Savage’s lightsaber slowed, then darkened, and in the quiet as Feral rose to standing, he heard his brother’s grunt of pain as the combatant stepped back a pace, their shoulders heaving, the electric current of their glaive quieted so only two smeared shapes remained on Malachor’s floor.

A helmet whipped right at the sound, and Feral caught a glimpse through all that black: shrouded, bone white, and skeletal — a death mask meant to inspire a reckoning of one’s own end. The assailant’s visor offered no further expression of their identity; only the rasp of laboured respiration echoing harshly from the effort.

“Savage!” Feral called, hastening.

A whisper in the Force called to him, as if this were a moment of significance that he couldn’t recognize; the message indistinct and beyond his grasp, as it ever was.

He skidded, whipping over the little cliff and striking the planet’s floor, rolling into a run to absorb the impact. Feral was already pulling out his electrostaff, the current crackling to life down its end, but he knew with no preternatural sense that he was already too late — his brother’s assailant spun, and vanished into the rubble and ashy remains of the dead planet, kicking up dust as they went.

“The kark —“ Feral started, body thrumming at the glimpse of what he’d seen before the attacker had turned.

And his brother…

He just stood there. Letting them get away.

“You’re injured,” Feral remarked, more surprised than concerned.

Savage regarded the smear on his fingertips, rubbing the blood between them.

A nick. A scratch at best, but that he’d been slashed at all so close to his chest was the first that Feral could remember.

Whoever they were, they’d gotten beneath a Sith’s defences. Drawn first blood.

Savage’s frown carved lines around his mouth, and Feral knew what his brother was thinking:

Only someone formidable and possibly stupid could manage that.

[austinonymous]

Make-Up

Title: Make-Up

Series: To the East | 1.At the Hawk’s Behest | 2. Make-Up

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug / My Hero Academia

Ship: Marc x Nathaniel (mentioned)

Characters: Marc, Nathaniel (mentioned), OC (Marc’s Brother), Hawk Moth (mentioned)

Word Count: 1,622

Tags: Villain!Nathaniel , Villain!Marc

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse, bullying, lots of violence, and several implied-but-not-stated awful things

Rating: T 

AN: So this level of dark is a bit new for me- I usually write only fluff or happy things, with maybe a side-order of angst. When I had written the first prompt ofr this My Hero Academia fusion, my goal with including mentions of bullying was to translate what happened in ‘Reverser’, along with Nathaniel’s history of bullies, into something I could use for a My hero universe. In this one, I detail the type of bullying and abuse that happened in this AU before Marc went to school with Nathaniel. I really put Marc through the wringer here. Some of what he went through is only implied, so I’ll let people read into what I wrote and decide for themselves how much went down.

Marc hadn’t meant to make a statement when he had first worn make-up.

That’s not to say that he didn’t understand why his fellow students found him such a nice target. Marc’s figure was naturally slender and girlish, as his older brother would say. Marc understood that- he had been taught to expect cat-calls and comments at some point, should he decide to dress or look a certain way.

His brother wasn’t lying when people would peg him for a girl, or some f… some guy thinking he was one. His smooth and silky black hair had only added to the impression, especially since Marc had always worn it long and in a messy bun. He was often called a ‘little lady’ because of this as he grew up.

Marc hadn’t meant to make a statement. Or maybe his brother had. People just were wrong about which one he was making.

 When he was in elementary school, Marc had a friend. They had met when she had come up to him and declared that if he felt like a girl then she didn’t mind it. Marc had politely thanked her and just said he liked wearing the make-up. He was- what was the word his brother had used?  Ah, effeminate. That’s what he was.

That’s all? She had asked him that question doubtfully, unsure despite his insistence.

That’s all. Marc had replied with false confidence. He wasn’t in the wrong body, but he didn’t dare elaborate beyond that.

Marinette had taken that answer for what it was worth and started asking him what he enjoyed doing.

His parents had taken the make-up in stride; one could even argue that they didn’t give a damn. Marc wasn’t sure which it was to this day, more serious neglect or simply being busy. All these years later and he couldn’t tell if he still wore rose-tinted glasses of his parents.

People didn’t bully him for being quirkless at that time. It took time. The boys at first jeered and thought that some girlish f- girlish fop wasn’t worth their time. They had new cool quirks to try out! The girls too, thought this, though they rarely confronted him directly even when they did start bullying him.

That had changed one morning when he was older, maybe third or fourth grade. Marc had gotten in a fight with his brother and in the rush to get ready for school ended up putting on more make-up than usual. That drew new sneers and increased taunts and laughter. Then at recess, when Marc had decided to go to the corner of the yard away from the crowd for some peace, he was followed.

At first it was just taunting and pinches, startling him by using their quirks too close to him. Marc knew he had felt the familiar licks of flames on his arm, making him freeze in terror. That drew more laughs and jeers. One could excuse their behavior in a way; they were only children and did not understand exactly what they were doing to Marc.

Then suddenly, the ground rumbled as Epicenter stepped onto the field, livid. The kids around him had backed up quickly, offering the middle-schooler the first hit on the little fa-freak. Mess up that garish make-up Marc had on, smudge it up nicely.

Epicenter had laughed, and Marc knew what was coming, looking down. It was always like this. The punch laid him out on the ground, some blood from his nose landing on the grass and forming a nice mark on his make-up, something Marc couldn’t dare wipe away with destroying his careful work.

The boys had laughed at first and had tried to high-five the older boy, happy that the middle-schooler had found their new activity fun.

The boys soon were crying as Epicenter broke their bones and made them regret ever laying so much of a hand on Marc. It was fast, it was brutal, it was one-sided; exactly what the older middle-schooler was known for. Marc’s classmates hard really been quite stupid to not run.

People once more didn’t bully him for being quirkless at the time. Not when his older brother was the most notorious bully in the entire schoolyard.

“I’m surprised you don’t put on a dress you weak-ass fucking f….” Basil’s words fizzled out as Marc kept his head ducked down, drawing in on himself. The older boy sighed and with a growl brought the candle closer, smiling with satisfaction as Marc clenched his hand, betraying some response. “You should’ve known this would happen Pieter. Toughen the fuck up, you sniveling baby.”

His older brother wouldn’t be there to save him next time. And if he didn’t want his arm burned, he needed to be able to stand up to the jackass with the flame quirk.

Marc needed to use make-up on his arm sometimes after that day. He ran out of hoodies after the sleeves were burned.

There would come a time when people stopped bullying him for being quirkless. It was when he was in middle school, his brother now in high school. The incident hadn’t happened when he was at school this time.

His parents were home early for once and were arguing quite loudly. Marc wasn’t sure what it was about exactly, but he was certain that one of them had lost their jobs. He would later learn that it was both that had.

Basil had been quite stressed out over the whole situation; he was pacing the room he still shared with Marc angrily, running his hand through his hair nervously. Once he had graduated from high school and was living on his one, Marc could understand why- suddenly losing your main sources of income was highly stressful.

Marc was soon dragged in by his collar and thrown onto the bed, a fist punching his face. If there was one thing that an older Marc was glad about was that his brother’s homophobia at the very least kept it to hits only. But unlike the one or two that usually came, the occasional kick, Basil didn’t stop.

Pieter, defend yourself!

Pieter, you useless sack of shit, fight for once!

Pieter, you better give me a fucking fight!

Marc had gritted his teeth and finally, screamed with tears in his eyes, “If you want a fight so much, go hurt someone else! Try and kill someone else for once!”

His hand had moved on its own like he was throwing something.  It was instinctual, it was self-defense, it was out of his control.

Basil had stilled once the black-and-white-paper-plane had hit him and dissolved. He seemed to be processing what Marc had screamed, as Marc shivering and sobbed underneath his much larger and muscular frame. He gave his younger brother a wicked grin and ruffled his hair.

“Sure thing kiddo! Just stay here you fucking useless bitch, I’ve decided to be merciful for once.” Epicenter stood up and stretched, walking out the door as he grabbed the machete he kept displayed proudly on his desk. It was a wicked thing, with a blade sharp enough to slice through anything. Marc had dubbed it the Tank-Top Killer after he had to throw out all of his tank-tops because of it.

The heroes came by relatively soon. Marc had not left his room- he could see some blood just outside his door and couldn’t stomach to see what was out there should he decide to walk out. The heroes had been horrified about what had happened to him, even if Marc knew it was his fault. Epicenter hadn’t stopped fighting, not after the first five blocks were rubble, not after the heroes arrived, not after two were wounded and another three blocks destroyed.

To this day, most people believed Reverser was unable to make his changes to people permanent. Even his boyfriend was unable to figure out why he refused to; Evillustrator was at least kind enough to not pry. Hawk-Moth, on the other hand, had been quite amused by what he’d forced out.

When he was put into the foster system since all his relatives were no longer able to take care of him, Marc asked to change his name legally. He got to choose his name to start over again with; he thought it was fitting in a way. Marc Anciel- a name that was a play on the part of himself he’d decided to accept. Maybe he was a f… a fa… that word… but he couldn’t hide his attraction to boys anymore. Nor did he need to.

He didn’t need to wear his make-up anymore.

Then it was the first day of high school, with a quirk at his side and new friends to be made (he had heard Marinette was going to this school too). He pulled on his tie-dye shirt, painted his nails and shouldered his backpack confidently. He looked in the mirror- and Marc faltered.

The bruises were gone and the scar from knife and flame alike were covered by his hoodie but… this wasn’t him. Maybe the boy under the make-up was what he had been born as, but what he knew, what he was comfortable with…

But this time, he wouldn’t wear it because he was being forced to learn. Because he had no choice. Marc was able to choose for himself this time, and sure, maybe he’d messed everything up so far, but… he could do this right? This one little thing.

He’d claw his way along no matter what. He’d live, if only to stick it to that bastard Epicenter.

Marc sat down and hummed, genuinely happy, as he pulled out his brushes and turned on the mirror’s light to get started.

[gloves94]

White Holes [Cassian Andor] [9/10]

Warnings: Language Tags: Fluff! Pairings: Cassian Andor/OC

Summary: Captain Cassian Andor was an Officer of Rebel Intelligence for the Alliance. An emotionless tool. There was nothing more to his life than following orders and working for the Resistance. Hell! His only friend was an Imperial droid named K-2SO. So what happens when he is struck by love at first sight and meets Dr. Lya Stryker? Will their story has a happy ending? (CassianxOC)

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

He had done it again.

Cassian sat shirtless on Lya's kitchen counter. She hovered over his back as she rubbed an ointment on his shoulder blade. Her lips were shut tight and jaw clenched as she applied her medical knowledge to his wounds. He was so careless… He winced and let out a low hiss. She said nothing as she wrapped his shoulder in a bandage. She did it perhaps a bit too hard and tugged at the bandage aggressively. He winced. She couldn't handle it anymore. "Lya! Careful!" he complained. She stopped. She had made herself a mental vow that she wouldn't speak to him today. "You are telling me to be careful after you got yourself shot in the shoulder?"

He turned his body to face her and winced as he did. "You think I  got shot on purpose?" his eyebrows twisted. "Cassian I can't do this anymore," she sighed shaking her head. She had grown into the habit of wearing her hair down in an attempt to hide the healed scars that slashed her face in half and crept down to her shoulders and arms like vines. "Can't do what?" He said bringing his hands down to his lap. "I can't keep seeing you get hurt like this. I can't bear the thought of you being away and not knowing when you are coming back- or if you're coming back at all." For someone that had once had so much faith on the Force Dr. Stryker had lost all of it. So much had changed after the hospital… after Lux… Losing Cassian would be- her eyes watered at the thought of losing him in the war. The pain- it would be unbearable. "Oye.…"He said reaching for her face

She shied away from his touch retreating. The doctor ducked her head and crossed her arms over her chest before wiping a stray tear away. "Lya," he said in a pleading tone with his accented voice. "What are we doing Cassian?" She cocked her head to the side. "You're gone half the time. I-I have some stuff to workout. We are in the middle of a war. What are we doing? Really-" She cried out as she paced anxiously. He was quiet for a moment. His dark eyes rounded her. Gazed at her as if attempting to read her very own thoughts. She felt lost when looking into those two bottomless dark wells of ink. "Surviving," he said. "Surviving?" She repeated. "Lya we've talked about this before-the inevitable willhappen." She looked away from him. "What matters is that we do it together," His hands reached for hers. She couldn't fight it- fight him. She caved in and squeezed his hand back. She flashed him a weak smile. "I have to go, I'll be getting my ship ready. Best be prepared," He said before leaning over and placing a kiss on her temple. "Te amo guapa," he said with a smile. Cassian left.… xxxxx Captain Andor was fueling his ship. He currently sat inside in the commanding ship. He sat back starring at the empty ceiling from the inside of his spacecraft. "You are awfully quiet Captain," Kaytoo suddenly said. Cassian sighed and simply nodded his head. "Thinking about Dr. Stryker?" K-2SO said. Once again Cassian nodded. He was worried about Lya. She hadn't been the same since… well the hospital. "It's just, she's been so cold lately. I don't even think she wants to marry me anymore," he said sounding defeated. "I calculate the odds of Dr. Stryker marrying you are

70%." Cassian looked at him with an annoyed glare. "72%, 73%, 74%, 77%..." K-2SO calculated. The amount increased with every passing moment. "There is no way you can calculate that." Cassian said in protest. "How do you even know that?" "Because Dr. Stryker is coming this way." The Captain almost fell of the chair. He turned around shocked to see the doctor aboard the ship. Both the Captain and his right handed robot realized that her face was wet with tears. They exchanged a look that K-2SO had almost programmed into his system. "I'm sorry- it's just- the thought," she bit back her tears. "The thought of losing you. It haunts me. I don't know what I would do if I lost you," she cried. She felt so childish and vulnerable for worrying. For the sake of the galaxy- this was Cassian's job. Who was she to impose on his duties? Like a moth drawn to a flame he engulfed her in his arms. "You won't lose me," he said against her hair. "I promise." She remained silent through it all. "I will always come back to you," he said before placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

She held him close. She had already lost so much. Her best friend, her leg, her skin… One more blow would be deathly to her sanity. That night Lya spent the night in the Captain's ship.

Prev: Chapter 8 Next: Chapter 10