#make no mistake i drew this almost a year ago

[lutzlig]

my 'guy' Katz on the dash : D

[rivatar]

“You’re Mine Now”

Pairing: Aged!Up!Lo’ak x fem!omatikayan!reader

W/c: 2.5k (oops)

Warnings/content: MDNI, heavy smut, non-con, dacryphilia, innocence/corruption kink, possessive & rough Lo’ak, reader is a virgin, cream pie, (lmk if I missed any!)

A/n: this is for prompt 4 of Pandora’s Bloody Moon. I know Bia’s acc is deleted but @hidden-snow asked that we continue the event. So here ya go, ya filthy sluts 💖

Also credit to @sugarsong78 for creating the idea of the Blood Moon! ❤️

P.S. if any of you have watched the movie Fear with Mark Wahlberg and Reese Witherspoon— it’s kinda giving that whole psychopath vibe 🤭👀

Lo’ak had always had eyes for you. Sure, he got around and had his fair share of girls, but you made him unbelievably curious and he came to the conclusion that he needed to corrupt you before anyone else did, or he would never be satisfied.

Maybe it was because you were so untouchable. He was certain you were a virgin because he knew almost all the other guys have tried to sweet talk you and always end up failing, just like he did. He had thought he would have an advantage as the Olo’eyktan’s son but you still turned him down, much to his frustration.

It wasn’t that he was desperate for sex, he could easily hook up with many of the other omatikaya girls. But something about you always intrigued him and drew in his attention. Maybe it was the chase that he liked so much, the fact that you wouldn’t give into him made him want you more, like a challenge. He spent far too much time thinking about you and wanting to know more about you. He would talk to you and joke with you whenever he could, constantly trying to just earn a spot with you. There was even times he thought of you when he was fucking another girl so that he could finish. He was infatuated and wanted to have you and ruin you. He wanted to show you how good he can make you feel and watch you crumble over and over again though multiple orgasms until you were shaking from being overstimulated. He wanted to be the first. But how could he if you wouldn’t even give him the slightest chance?

Tonight was the night the Blood Moon would make its appearance; all Na’vi knew and many prepared themselves the best they could. A lot of families essentially locked themselves inside their houses and took sleeping medicine so that they wouldn’t be awake and outside roaming in their demon form.

On the other hand, a lot of Na’vi embraced this phenomenon. They thought of it as a natural way of life and it should be able to take its course through them for just one night of the year. Eywa made no mistakes to them, so surely there was a reason for this too.

Lo’ak was aware this was tonight and he made up his mind and had a plan in order. He was going to find you and have you, no matter what. And the scheming bastard was so clever that he already knew he was going to blame his shameful behavior on the Blood Moon’s effect on him, so that hopefully you would forgive him afterwards.

…

You on the other hand, were one who didn’t want to participate in this and you were going to take all the precautions to avoid everyone and the consequences. This wasn’t your first rodeo, you’ve done this before on this night each year and have been fine. Your process was to close off your entrance so one would come in and so the moonlight wouldn’t touch you and make you possessed. Once the Blood moonlight hit the Na’vi skin, it was game over.

To trap yourself in, years ago you had made a woven covering supported with wooden beams that covers where your opening to your hut is. It was still evening but you would rather be safe then sorry so you put it up and tied it securely to the sides of your hut to keep it in place.

Then you sat and waited and ate your dinner alone. Praying to Eywa nothing would happen to you tonight.

…

You lifted the covers on your cot to tuck yourself in, deciding to try and go ahead and go to sleep.

Your ear twitches as you hear a sound outside your living space, as if someone was walking up to your blocked-off entrance.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

Your heart dropped as you stared fearfully at your makeshift door being banged on repeatedly.

“YAWNEEEE!! ITS LOAKKK!!” He shouted loudly while still banging the door.

What in Eywa’s name? Lo’ak?? Yawne???

You were so shocked you didn’t speak, not knowing what to say and hoping maybe he’d go away. He wouldn’t be in his right mind right now.

The banging continued. “You gonna let me in??? Or do I have to break in myself??” He yelled while obnoxiously laughing.

“L-Lo’ak, please go away! I’m trying to sleep,” you tried to deny his request politely.

“Nahhh baby, why would I leave when I need you so bad?? Think I’ll dieee if I don’t get you!”

What the hell? This cannot be happening. Your heart was pounding and your hands were clammy in fear. He was literally insane right now.

Then he used all his strength which was heightened right now to shake and break your barrier down, snapping the ties loose and it fell forward with a thud in front of him.

Standing at the door, he instantly made eye contact with you sitting on your bed.

The sight of him was enough to make you nearly piss yourself. His skin was grey and his freckles were bright red, a much different look from his normal vibrant blue. But his eyes were the most horrific part; replacing the normal yellow tint, they were now red orbs glowing in the dark of the night. He smiled devilishly from ear to ear, flashing his even larger fangs and ran his tongue over his teeth like you were his delicious prey. He looked deranged, like a psycho.

“Hi, yawne,” he whispered eerily, still smiling and staring deep into your soul. It seemed to make him smile bigger seeing how terrified you looked trying to cower back onto the bed. You noticed the tent in his loincloth and tears started forming in your eyes. You knew another effect of the Blood Moon was heightened sexual urges.

“Lo’ak please!! Don’t do this!!” You begged.

He quietly stalked closer to you until he could kneel next to your bed. He was even scarier up close.

“Why not? I don’t think I can wait a second longer, baby,” he rubbed your leg and you jumped at the contact.

“I don’t want to!” You cried, warm tears cascading down your cheeks.

You looked into those eyes and didn’t see the Lo’ak you normally knew. No, he was possessed right now, of course it wasn’t really him.

He ran his calloused hand up your leg to cup your pussy through your cloth. You barely whimpered in both terror and sudden pleasure shooting up your spine as you continued crying.

He grinned more. He thought you looked so pretty when you cried.

He then moved your loincloth to the side to touch your bare cunt.

“You’re wet already. You may not want this but your pretty pussy is crying out for me,” he tried convincing you; and subconsciously himself.

He slid a finger inside you swiftly and watched your face intently for a reaction. You were trying so hard not to give him any reaction but you have never felt this before so the pleasure was an unknown feeling for you that you couldn’t control.

All you could do was stare at him as your chest heaved up and down, adjusting to the new stretch his long finger provided.

He pulled it back and slammed back in. A gasp slipped out of your mouth as your pussy fluttered, gripping him perfectly.

“Fuck, that little virgin pussy is sucking me in so tight. Don’t worry, I’ll stretch you out a bit before you have to take my cock,” Lo’ak said.

“Please stop,” you begged again and shook your head ‘no’, yet feeling betrayed by your body succumbing to the pleasure.

Your unwillingness seemed to only make him want you more. He was determined to make you take it and make you cum and feel good. By the end of it you were gonna like it, he promised himself in his mind.

“But you’re doing so good. I gotta claim you as mine now,” he stated plainly, as if that wasn’t a big deal nor required your consent.

He pumped his finger into you and you felt an unfamiliar tightening and gooey feeling in your lower stomach. It felt so good after the initial stretch. You tried to not moan but you couldn’t help it, so you threw your head back so you at least wouldn’t have to look at him. You spread your legs more without even thinking. He didn’t want to wait any longer to ravish you, and ruin you and your innocence.

He suddenly yanked your loincloth off and decided your top needed to go too so he ripped it off as well, leaving you on display for him.

He nearly drooled at the sight, you were like a fresh meal set out and prepared for him, all for his taking.

“Gonna make you cum first before I fuck you,” he told you.

He lowered his head to lick at your clit and continued pumping his single digit. The feeling of his rough tongue was something else, it was entirely foreign and nothing like you could’ve ever imagined. It was heavenly.

He then added another finger, assuming you were ready for it by the way your wetness coated his fingers and knuckles. Your sounds of pleasure tumbled from your lips and he savored every one of them like the sweetest song to his ears.

“Feels good, right?” He asked sensually.

You nodded your head and gave a whiny, pathetic “mhmm”

“Yeah I know it fucking does. Should’ve done this to you a long time ago”

Your brain didn’t register that he wanted to do this before now, too. Your adrenaline coursed through your veins and all your senses were heightened. So many unfamiliar feelings all at once and you had no choice but to lay and take it.

“I-It feels weird,” you panted “like I’m about to pee” your eyebrows scrunched up.

He laughed at your pure innocence, it filled him with so much pride and his ego swelled.

“That means you’re gonna cum. Poor girls never felt an orgasm before, huh?”

Your heart sped up faster and the pleasure increased more and more, rushing you towards the climax.

“You never even touched yourself? Really?”

You shook your head no, barely processing his words.

He made a noise almost like a growl. “Fuck, you’re driving me crazy. So fucking sweet and innocent, all for me to corrupt”

And just like that, you felt a release rush through you and taking over your body. You shook uncontrollably and yelled loudly, conquering your first ever orgasm. He kept licking and pumping to prolong it. It then turned into oversensitivity and you pushing his head away the best you could. He decided to be nice and let off you.

You panted and tried to come back down from it, exhausted already. He chuckled and smiled at you as he licked up all your mess off his face and hand. Your eyebrows were still crunched, but right now it was in confusion and horror at how nasty he was— that just seemed so dirty.

Without saying another word, he pulled down his loincloth to let his cock spring out. You looked at it in curiosity and fear.

“Never seen one of these before, have you?”

You weakly shook your head no, wondering how in the world that was supposed to go inside you?

He started jerking himself slowly and you watched him, frozen in your place. He didn’t take his eyes off you, those red eyes boring into your soul.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he roughly commanded, pointing at the floor in front of him.

You knew you had no choice but to obey, so you slowly and hesitantly did so.

“Good. Now arch that pretty back some”

You again did as he said, poking your ass out more for him.

“Mmmm. What a beautiful sight,” he spoke in awe and approval. He was checking out every part of you like this, staring mainly at your glistening, puffy cunt all eager and ready to be taken.

You were scared of him in his current state and trying to get this over with. You were sure he was gonna hurt you with his cock, judging by the size of him.

You heard him lower himself to his knees behind you and then felt his hand grab onto your hip. He lined himself up and you gasped when you felt his tip make contact with your hole.

“Gonna make you mine now. Your mind, body, and soul will be connected to me now. You never forget your first. And don’t worry, you’re gonna love this cock,” he said.

You weakly turned your head towards him and nodded, not wanting to anger him while he was like this. He could kill you right now if he wanted to.

“Beg for it”

“W-What?”

“I said fucking beg for it. Act like you want it.” He demanded harshly. “Good girls say please”

“Please, Lo’ak” you whimpered weakly.

He spanked your ass hard. “Say it like you mean it!”

“Please! Please! I need it!”

“Good girl,” he finally praised.

Shifting his hips forward, he pressed inside you. The stretch due to his thick girth was even better than he imagined. You were so warm and wet and tight for him.

You winced in pain at the stretch but honestly took it like a champ. You didn’t want to sound pathetically in pain because of him and let him win this.

“You feel so good,” he groaned deeply.

He started thrusting, setting a brutal pace. He was lost in the feeling, he had never felt a pussy this good.

You moaned and tried to cover your noise with your hand. You felt so full and his dick was reaching to where his fingers couldn’t get to. He pressed his back over you and grabbed under your jaw to bring your face next to his. This caused your back to arch more, your flesh smacking and getting louder and louder

“Taking it so well. Be a good girl and cum on my cock, will you?” He asked while tilting his head to look at your face, sloppily kissing your cheek.

You hummed and moaned, not really answering him. Your face was scrunched up and your eyes occasionally opened to look at the ceiling. You were caught up in your pleasure too and were losing all your thoughts.

Before you could register, the feeling came again and your orgasm ripped through you. You made a mess on his dick as your juices flowed out while you convulsed on his length.

“Fuck! That’s so hot,” Lo’ak grunted, watching your pussy cream on his cock. It was more than enough to make him finish too.

“Gonna fill you up now so you’ll smell like me and all the guys will know I claimed you for myself before they could”

His cum spurted inside you and painted your walls pearly white. You felt the warmness and the way everything got even more slippery as his dick was still fucking you, getting every last drop of cum out.

He finally slowed down and you slumped to the floor, absolutely exhausted.

“Good job yawne, I’m so proud of you,” he praised sweetly, quite contrary to the way he appeared— looking like a demon from a nightmare.

He rose up to go over and grab the boundary he broke through earlier. Your ears perked up and wondered what he was doing.

“Gotta make sure no one else wonders in here with us,” he answered your unspoken question.

“You’re mine now.”

Taglist/moots: @neteyamssyulang @bambithewriter @professional-yapper @ikeyniofthetayrangi @loakstahni @inolaphoenix @property-of-neteyam @loak-te-suli @nonamevenus (if you don’t wanna be tagged just lmk!!)

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Drawings: cbf!soap x reader

On the walls in your room are drawings from Johnny.

Ever since you met him all that time ago in kindergarten, he had been drawing art. It seemed like any moment he wasn’t doing his homework or work in class he was drawing.

You watched all the time, since you sat next to him in every class, and admired his work with a deep sense of wonder.

In the fifth grade he drew you a picture of your favorite Disney princess. In the sixth he drew you a picture of your favorite music artist. Every drawing he gave you in middle school was something that you liked, something that you told him you enjoyed.

In high school his art style changed. He started drawing more realistically, with more purpose and soon his art started looking pretty professional.

Freshman year he drew you your favorite flower. Sophomore year he drew you a beautiful landscape.

Junior year he drew a picture of you but didn’t expect to give it to you.

It wasn’t the first time he had drawn you. In fact, since he could remember he was always drawing you when he knew you weren’t looking at him.

You were his favorite muse. He studied you any chance he got and lost himself in your eyes. He had so many drawings you he could almost make a timeline of you growing up with them.

Every sketch of you was another piece of him he wish he could give you.

One day he made a mistake.

“Draw…a cat!”

“On it.”

Johnny had asked you to give him something to draw, semi-stuck in art block due to the stress of school. He flipped through his journal and a piece of it he had torn fell on the ground.

Before he could pick it up, you had and he felt his stomach hit the hells below.

“You drew me?”

You were staring at the page with unreadable eyes that were stuck to the sketch of you smiling. He didn’t have to look to know that’s what it was because he had ripped it out to hide it from you.

“Yeah…” He couldn’t say anything as he fidgeted with his pencil, nearly snapping it in half.

You were quiet and he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

“Can I keep it?” You wondered and his eyes widened.

“What? Why?”

“Because…I really like it.”

You rubbed your thumb over the sketch, a small smile pulling at your lips as he watched warmth spread in your eyes. You looked giddy, like he had gifted you something priceless and it made his cheeks burn.

“Ye can have it.” He couldn’t even distract himself with drawing.

“Is this the first time? This can’t be, there’s no way.”

“It’s not.”

Johnny’s mouth went dry when you looked at him with shock. He was really hoping you didn’t find him weird for doing drawing you and he refused to let you know how many times it took him ti perfect you on paper.

“You made sure to get my good side right?”

Johnny couldn’t help but laugh at that. Relief washed over him at the admiration in your eyes and he shook his head.

“Every side is your good side, bonnie.”

That picture is the only one framed on your dresser.

A/n: figured I’d give some fluff

Tags: @elysian0612

[winterrrnight]

birthday boy

PAIRING: drew starkey x gn!reader

SUMMARY: you spend a morning with your birthday boy

WARNINGS: fluffy fluff fluff 😁

EDITH SPEAKS: happy birthday to the one and only drew!! can't believe he's 30 years old 🥹 I hope he has such a beautiful day 🫶🏻🫶🏻 hoping for such huge success and happiness in his life <3

please reblog if you liked reading this!! feedback is always appreciated 🌺 please ignore any spelling/grammatical mistakes :)

navigation || join my taglist || requests

As the sunlight shines in through the pale white curtains of your room, you feel Drew shift next to you, his arm looping across your waist and pulling you in closer. His warmth encases you completely as you feel him press butterfly kisses to your shoulder, his hair tickling you on your neck.

You turn around to face him, his arm not letting go of you for even a second. You open your eyes to see Drew's eyes still close, his breathing relaxed, and you feel his finger softly tracing little shapes in your back.

You press a kiss to his forehead, and then one on his nose, and one on his lips.

"Good morning birthday boy," you whisper, gently caressing his cheek with your hand. He leans into your touch, and slightly turns his head to press a kiss to your palm.

"Good morning bub," he mumbles, his voice heavy. You press two kisses to his still closed eyelids, causing him to let out a satisfied sigh at your action. Your fingers wrap up in his soft hair, gently twirling the strands around them as you feel his silky hair brushing on your fingertips.

"Wake up now," you press a kiss on the corner of his lips, and he groans and turns around, lying on his back.

"Not yet," he groans, and you push yourself up to sit in his lap, your legs on either side of his waist as you rest your hands on his chest.

"If you won't wake up, then you won't get the cake I spent all night last night making for you," you pout, leaning towards him as your chin rests on his chest.

He finally opens his eyes, the word 'cake' awakening something in him. You giggle at him, his blue irises gazing at you lazily.

"Now, I can't miss a cake, can I?" He says, his hands resting on your hips as he helps you get off him. You rush to the kitchen and get the cake you made for him, which indeed took you a long time last night. Drew had gone to bed early because he was too tired, and it was the perfect opportunity for you to bake something for him.

You get a candle and place it right in the centre of the cake, lighting it up with your lighter. You slowly take it back to your room, trying to not let any hurried movements cause the fire to blow out.

Drew's sitting in bed with his back resting against the back board, his head leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. Just as he hears you come in, he looks at you with a huge grin as he watches you carefully bring the cake to him, placing it in his lap.

You open the drawer of your bedside table and pull out the card you made for him. He looks at you with utter love shining through his eyes as you hand him his card.

"Happy birthday bubbles," you whisper, as you press a kiss on his lips. "I love you so much,"

Drew opens the card to see your writing scrawled alongside a picture of the two of you. It takes him a second to realise it's a picture from your first date, which was almost four years ago.

'happy birthday drew baby, can't believe you're 30!! I hope we spend so many more years together just like this, waking each other up early in the morning on our birthdays to give our special gifts. I can't express in words how happy you've made me all these years. I love waking up every morning with you by my side, and I love to go to sleep every night with you by my side. I love you so much bubbles, I wish you only the best in your life.'

Drew looks at your handwriting with complete awe, feeling tears starting to brim in his eyes. "Oh baby," he says, almost choking at his own tears as he is quick to embrace you in a hug. You weren't expecting him to start to sob at your card, so you were caught completely off guard just as his arms wrap around your waist, his head resting against your shoulder.

You rub his back, gently scraping your nails against his skin; just the way he likes.

You softly pull his head from your shoulder, holding his face in your hands and wiping off his tears with your thumbs.

"I meant every word," you say, a smile pulling your lips. You press a kiss to his forehead and nudge the cake closer to him.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds, and blows the candle. With the knife he cuts a slice, and you sit right besides him, your head leaning on his shoulder as you gently sing him 'happy birthday'. He pulls the slice out of the cake and moves it closer to you for you to take a bite. You take the slice from his hand, bringing it close to him for him to take a bite too.

"This is so good my love," he says, his voice muffled as he eats another slice. You smile at him and take one slice for yourself too.

Outside at a distance you hear birds chirping melodiously, creating a relaxing aura around you two. Your head is resting on his shoulder and his arm is wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him. You both sit in silence so close to each other, as you hear the birds outside create serene rhythms for you two.

At this moment, Drew knows this is something he never wants to experience with anyone except you.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @drewsbabygirll

(If you want to be added, check out the 'join my taglist' post on top! + send in requests if you have any, but please read the 'requests' post first!)

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

Yesterday, there was a terrorist attack, two people were stabbed in the area where my mom's cousin and his wife live. I found out about it as I was returning from a medical appointment, going through a road where in Nov, a terrorist shot to death a young Israeli man.

Based on what the IDF has found of Hamas' armaments (which surpassed Israeli estimates), based on how things stand now, Hamas would be capable of continuing to fire rockets into Israel for at least 2-3 more years. That's why, even as the fighting continues, there are new defensive measures that will be built along road 232, the same road mentioned in the NYT's article about the Hamas rapes during the Oct 7 massacre.

Speaking of that article, apparently despite the insane amount of evidence in it, and mentioned recently in regards to the subject of the rapes, some are trying to deny that this part of the massacre happened. This is a perfect response (IMO) from feminists.againstantisemitism on IG:

Cyberwell, a watch dog that monitors antisemitism on social media, has reported a sharp rise in antisemitic posts since Oct 7. And not just of the new, anti-Zionist kind. There has been a rise in 1000% in posts accusing Jews of killing Jesus (yes, the Jew crucified by Romans almost 2,000 years ago... funny how you never see people going around saying Italians killed Jesus... almost like the whole thing isn't about who actually killed Jesus, and more about providing yet another excuse for antisemitism, a hatred that pre-dates Jesus), and 1600% in the hashtag saying that Hitler was right, the guy whose antisemitic, genocidal ideology, the attackers, maimers, rapists, kidnappers and murderers of Oct 7 would happily co-sign. All of this, while the world appropriates the Jewish slogan "never again" to use against Jews defending themselves. Make it make sense.

And here's a reminder that what starts online, doesn't stay online. There have been unprecedented levels of antisemitism in many places, including in New Zealand. What got to me the most is the report on antisemitic incidents targeting school kids, and that only 40% of parents report these (sometimes 'coz previous cases have not been treated right, or the school is seen as being ill-equipped to deal with antisemitism). A 2021 survey found that 60% of New Zealanders agreed with antisemitic statements, so it might be argued that this recent outburst has been waiting to happen for a while, just waiting for an excuse to.

Here's another piece that I sadly could only find in Hebrew so far. It reveals some more of the interrogations of Hamas terrorists, this time covering how Hamas terrorizes civilians in Gaza. Here's my loose translation of a testimony's summary, from a Palestinian Islamic Jihad terrorist (Muhammed Darwish Amare). It can be found (with the full testimony in the vid and appearing) at the above link: "Someone told me that they took explosives, to place them from his apartment to a spot 2 meters (6.5 feet) away from him. The man came down and told [the terrorist]: 'Oh man, how are you placing the explosives by the door, and then if they explode, my kids and I will be gone.' He responded, 'If you don't like it, then get out of here.' The apartment owner said to him, 'These are my kids, this isn't right,' and the explosives placer replied, 'I will lay them even if you don't like it, and I will even place them between you and your wife.' Then he took out his pistol and shot the apartment owner in the leg."

Another testimony, found at the same link, this one is of a former Hamas member (Zuhady Ali Zahdy Shahi): "I felt that we civilians are human shields. Why should we protect them? We want to be saved, too. That's Hamas' mistake. People left their house [during the fighting], and there was a safe passage, because the army told us to go south, that there will be food and water there. They drew a safe passage for us, and then we ran into [Hamas terrorists], who made us go into one of the neighborhoods. They told us, 'No one is going south, there are bombings, and no one can continue on the street.' We went into the Shifa hospital, and we got stuck inside. [The terrorists] sat among us, with the civilians. They were scared of the soldiers. I even argued with one of them, and told him, 'Your place isn't here, with the civilians, but downstairs [in the terror tunnels].' He told me that the moment the war would be over, he will punish me, he started threatening me." When asked what he thought of the IDF, Shahi said, "Truth is, based on what I've seen, I wish you would stay with us. If they would have stayed where we lived, we wouldn't be starving. The moment the army came into Shifa, we were scared of what would be done with us, but it was the opposite. They brought us food and water, and sat with us. We felt safe."

This is 56 years old Ilan Weiss.

His 53 years old wife Shiri and 18 years old daughter Noa were kidnapped by Hamas, and released in the hostage deal. Ilan himself, who was a member of the emergency team at kibbutz Be'eri, left his house on the morning of the massacre, as first reports came in, and wasn't heard of again. He was considered missing (meaning, it was unknown whether he was kidnapped or killed on Oct 7). Today it was announced that his body was identified, and he had been murdered during the massacre. May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[sunflowersandsapphires]

The Sun Will Rise

Wake Up, Chapter 8

Series Masterlist           Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In an attempt to stop the advances of an unwanted suitor, Matt Murdock accidentally condemns you to being his fake girlfriend.

warnings: sexual assault themes and descriptions, if non-con themes trigger you please do not read. other warnings: swearing, misogynistic language, violence

This chapter is very intense. I tried to keep the S/A stuff as not graphic as possible to avoid triggering people but it is very much there and the violence is more present than any other chapter.

a/n: Today has been a fucking DAY yall. My new cat got sick (he’s ok he just ate too fast and then got sick on me and my bed which was gross), I am having issues with pay equity at work, and trying to deal with utility issues in my house. I am very sorry for the late update. PLEASE let me know how you feel about this chapter, your comments and reblogs literally make my day every week. 

w/c: ~4.5k

Four years ago, you’d been desperate for a change.  Despite spending thousands on a fancy degree, you had gotten nowhere in the legal field and your job waiting tables at a diner in Queens barely paid the bills, though you were grateful for the work. 

Pouring coffee and taking orders wasn’t the worst job you’d ever had and the majority of customers during your shifts were sweet. You played the role of “cute, friendly waitress” well, making even the grouchiest patrons appreciate your soft smile and quick response time. Maybe this persona you’d adopted in your efforts to avoid your crippling anxiety was the reason he started looking your way. Perhaps it was your obvious desperation to be liked. Whatever it was that drew his attention, it was your eventual disinterest that kept it. 

The first day you met James Lannister was a shitty one. You’d worked a double shift, meaning you had been less than perky towards the end of it, leading to stupid mistakes and screaming customers. Emotions were running high when he took a seat in your section, so his calm demeanor and attentive smile drew you in. 

He’d only made pleasant conversation with you the first few visits. Asking about your day, your week, your hobbies, your interests, your family, your aspirations. Anyone would’ve been eager to spill their guts to him, he was quite charming. The way that his green eyes pooled with fascination as you spoke was almost reverent. No man in your life had ever made you feel that way, like nothing else in the room mattered. 

Which is why the red flags zipped right by you without triggering your internal security system. Day after day, he’d visit your place of work after his own shift at the Pro Bono Association. He’d ask his questions and encourage you to ask your own, which led to a standing invitation to sit with him when there was a lull in traffic at the restaurant. Your shared interest in the legal system and his willingness to share a slice of that life with you compelled you to take him up on the offer. 

Next came the gifts. Little things, at first. Large tips, suggestions for weekend entertainment complete with a gift card or fully funded ticket, books to further your legal studies after work. It was strange, but the attention was divine. He wasn’t an ugly man, and you’d never felt noticed like this before. 

Eventually, he’d goaded you into joining him and his wife for dinner at their house. Mrs. Lannister was beautiful and cunning. On the surface, she was always polite, reassuring, more than willing to host you or have you join them in public, but there was an ominous undercurrent that you never could place. The way she looked at you when her husband turned his back was almost murderous, but you were so caught up in the idea of being wanted that you glossed over the tension between the two of you. 

You were lonely, sure, but you never wanted romance or…other things…from Lannister. To you, he was a mentor, an idol. Someone to live vicariously through while in a transition period in life. But after accepting all of his kindnesses, you’d unknowingly crossed a line. 

Before it all fell apart, it almost seemed like universal intervention. During a seemingly mundane conversation, Lannister clasped his hands over yours with a giddy expression. It seemed that there was an entry level position opening up at the PBA office in Queens and he thought you’d be perfect for it. Not only would it be a substantial pay raise from your current position, but there were opportunities for growth and he would be your boss. 

At the time, it felt like a miracle. Your ticket to the next stage of your life. And it was, but letting your guard down for that shark ended up being the biggest regret of your life. 

Transitioning into your new role wasn’t seamless, but you took it in stride. Your eagerness to take on complex projects and expand the mission of the organization impressed the more seasoned employees. Lannister began taking you to lunches, galas, drinks, anywhere that he could introduce you to his network of attorneys. It was thrilling to be thrown into the world you’d always dreamed of and received with such open arms. 

For a few months, it was pure bliss. Until the night you placed your first case. 

Placing the case itself was unproblematic, you were happy that you fit into the role so well—and you expressed such sentiments to Lannister who invited you over to his house to celebrate. Arriving with a bottle of your favorite wine, it was immediately clear that something had changed. The once cozy house was in absolute disarray, riddled with empty liquor bottles and boxes of feminine clothes. And, although Lannister had implied there would be others there, you found him alone. 

Lannister noticed your wandering eyes and explained that his wife had left him. He told you not to worry about that and to focus on your personal success. The two of you enjoyed some good food and cheap wine, the older man drifting closer by the glass. Eventually, you felt your eyes growing heavy and he insisted that you stay over given the late hour. 

That night, you dreamt of a large shadow, looking over you while you slept, warm touch dancing over your clothes. You tried to protect yourself, but your arms wouldn’t respond to the commands your brain sent. When you woke up, you found your skirt unzipped. 

It got blurry after that. Lannister’s very public divorce led to inopportune inebriation, massive hangovers in the office, lewd comments, and wandering hands. While you still accompanied him to events, he began claiming you in public in increasingly repulsive ways. Holding you by the waist, kissing your cheeks, stroking his fingers over your neck, using that disgusting pet name. My little Princess. 

You only tried expressing your discomfort once before it escalated. You’d approached him in his office after lunch, when he was likely to be more sober, and hesitantly asked if he would consider pulling back. You’d been met with the most terrifying display of anger you’d ever seen. You hazily recall books being thrown, hits landing along your arms and torso, insults being hurled at you. 

He had made you. You would be nothing without him. You were ungrateful and whoreish and conniving just like his wife. While the memories faded, the scars from your skin splitting over the hinges of his office door still shone in certain lights. 

After that his actions were deliberate. His lingering touches scalded you. Being alone with him meant sentencing yourself to torture. When he was angry, he’d call you into his office to “talk it through.” To your absolute horror, these talks often involved a locked door and drunk hands groping your trembling form. 

For weeks you endured his abrupt switches between calculated insults, physical abuse, emotional manipulation, and inappropriate contact. You were barely alive, going through the motions and slowly convincing yourself that you deserved it. You’d fallen out of contact with your friends, were so emotionally fragile that a stern look from a stranger could send you into a panic attack, and you found yourself so nauseous that the first few hours of each day were spent hugging a toilet. 

It was clear you needed help, but Lannister was your boss and his threats terrified you. He’d made it clear that if anyone found out about his behavior, it would cost you your livelihood. As an incredibly well-known attorney with an impeccable record, there was no way you’d win in court, he had too many friends on the force or the bench. Not to mention how new you were to the organization. Despite his growing alcoholism, your coworkers were as enamored with Lannister as you used to be, the chances of them believing you were minimal. 

So, you stayed, trapped in a nightmare of your own unintentional creation. Until a position opened up in Manhattan. 

Applying on a whim, you’d kept your application a secret, not expecting to even get an interview. But, apparently the managing attorney across the East River had heard your name through the grapevine because she reached out within the week to schedule a lunch with you. 

The heavy weight that hung over your shoulders like a shadow has lessened considerably in the days leading up to the lunch. The possibility of escaping the hell you were living in quickly appeared like the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Manhattan was beautiful and the employees of the PBA office in Midtown were ecstatic to meet you. It was the best day you’d had in months, until you got back to your own office. 

Realizing you’d forgotten an important file you needed for a clinic the next day, you walked briskly through the quiet building, hoping to get in and out without running into your supervisor. Unfortunately, the world was not that gracious. 

As you rummaged through your desk, the overhead lights turned on making you flinch. Your hands stilled over the file cabinet, your breath catching on your throat. 

“You little bitch.” Lannister was furious if the rage dripping from his tone was any indication. “Tell me, Princess, why did I receive a call from Midtown about how happy they were to have finally met my assistant?”

You couldn’t speak, your throat constricting as if wrapped with fabric. Frozen in place, you heard him approaching and you cowered. 

“Thought you could go behind my back? Leave me high and dry without a warning? You owe me, little princess. After all I’ve done for you…”

Whether from fear or something else entirely, your brain blocked out the rest of his actions that night. You came to shaking on the floor, bloody and partially undressed, but you weren’t alone. Lannister had disappeared, thankfully, but your coworker stepped into your office with a shaky inhale. 

Erica was a young attorney who’d started a few weeks before you. Your emotional state had made it difficult to grow close to anyone in the office, but she’d always seemed sweet. And, fortunately for you in the end, she’d heard the commotion your boss had caused before storming home. 

As your wonderful coworker helped you clean yourself up, you tearily confessed the secrets you’d worked so hard to hide. Disgusted, Erica had encouraged you to speak to HR and you’d submitted a complaint later that day with her assistance. 

You owed Erica a great debt. Over the period of the investigation, she’d become a fixture in your office, making sure to keep you at a distance from your abuser. Without your prompting, she’d offered the committee looking into the allegations her full testimony. You were quite certain that her statement is the reason Lannister was fired. 

In the weeks following his termination, you felt like a new woman. You’d moved to a cute little place in Hell’s Kitchen and begun your new work as a volunteer coordinator. While you still struggled with crowds of lawyers and the taste of alcohol, a good therapist and a decent amount of time had helped you heal a considerable amount. 

Enough to open yourself up for the possibility of a relationship, which you weren’t sure you’d ever want after everything you’d been through. Meeting Matt had changed that though, turning ‘never’ into a ‘not right now’. 

Sweet, considerate, adorable Matt who had brought you more comfort than you ever thought you deserved. Who was probably still furious with you for falling for him, but you couldn’t help but plead with the universe to send him anyway. Please, Matty, please come for me. 

As the muggy van rumbled over potholes and uneven roads, you pictured his beautiful face. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. How his brow furrowed with concern over the most minor harm that had befallen you. The beautiful way his lips melded with yours as a single kiss made you feel weightless. You regretted not kissing him one last time before ruining what you had. 

I’m sorry, darling. Please don’t let them take me from you. I’m not ready to let you go just yet. 

As Matt neared the 4th floor, a knawing pit of dread grew in his stomach. He could smell your tears, newer than those that had fallen after he’d left, but your heartbeat was nowhere to be found. Frantically pacing the hallway, he quickly noticed your suitcase abandoned a few feet from the door to your shared room. Crouching down, he tilted his head, evaluating the scene. The scent of your fear coated the floor, walls, and fabric of your bag. You must have been terrified for it to penetrate your surroundings to that degree. Underneath your pheromones, Matt shuddered with rage as the sickly saccharine fragrance of Beatrice Snyder’s reached his sensitive nose. Mingling with her perfume was a different smell, smoky and dark. 

You’d been cornered by Snyder and an unidentified man, he was sure of it. Fumbling to find the right end of his key card, he threw open the door and stripped out of his suit. Given that he’d intended to share the night with you, he’d intentionally left his body armor at home. A black long sleeve tee and scarf around his face would have to do tonight. 

Stepping back into the empty hallway, he fled to the stairs. While the scent of your fear only fueled his dark anger, it was strong enough to leave a trail down the stairs and out the back door into the cool night air. As inconspicuously as possible, Matt navigated through the building, dodging employees and guests successfully until he reached the loading dock behind the kitchen. Your scent stopped here, replaced by the smell of gasoline. 

No, no, no. Where are you, angel? What happened to you? 

Matt growled in frustration, spinning around desperately searching for any sign of you, he ripped his phone out of his pocket and pressed your speed dial, hoping that you could still reach your phone. 

Receiving nothing but your voicemail message in return, he felt his fists clench. “It’s going to be ok, my beautiful girl. I’m coming.” 

Replacing the phone in his pocket, he took off in the direction of the strong scent of auto fuel, praying to God that the most recent vehicle would lead him to you. 

The van jolted to an abrupt stop and you slid along the dirty carpet into a seat in front of you. Your back ached from the jostling you’d gotten on the ride to whatever destination you’d apparently arrived at, and you could feel the imprint of thousands of plastic carpet strands that had melded with the flesh on your cheek during the drive. The sound of car doors slamming and the heavy footfalls following made you strain against your binds one final time. 

A large, rough hand snatched your ankle, yanking you towards the night air at the tail end of the vehicle. Kicking your legs wildly, you flopped like a dying fish along the carpet as you were slowly pulled outside. The fingers at your ankle moved to wrap around your throat, forcing the airway to constrict. Struggling fiercely against your captor, you heard a familiar, rasping voice from behind you snarl, “Shut her up, you idiot!” 

Lannister’s goon pressed a sharp implement against the soft flesh of your stomach. “Keep movin’ and you’ll lose a lot more than your man, bitch.” 

As your squirming died down, reality set in and tears began flooding down your face. It was over. He’d won. All of the efforts that went into putting distance between the two of you were meaningless. He’d found you, and Snyder was going to take Matt from you because of it. 

You were roughly stood on your feet and forced to move in the trail of Lannister and his other goon. Eventually, you were forced into a cold metal chair, binds attached to the stiff bars of the furniture. Your blindfold was ripped off, though your gag remained. James Lannister’s ferocious grin appeared in your line of vision, making you flinch. “So glad we’ve been reunited, Princess. We’re gonna have some fun.” 

The group had taken you to what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. There were broken wooden palettes and scraps of steel scattered around the floor. Holes in the sheet metal walls allowed cold, winter air to blow crisp waves of wind through the space, raising the hairs on your neck. A gaping hole in the roof above you showers you in moonlight, illuminating a small s circle around you and Lannister. 

A knife glinted in your peripheral vision and you whimpered, squirming involuntarily. Lannister grabbed a fistful of your shirt, yanking you forward with a growl. “The more you squirm, the more damage I do, little princess. I’d hold still if I were you.” 

With that warning, he slashed a jagged cut in your top, nicking the skin along your collarbone. A hand ran over your hair, grasping the strands and tugging so that your face was turned towards your captor’s once again. “There’s my obedient little pet. Was wondering where she’d gone.” 

Bile rose in your throat as Lannister stroked his massive hands along your face, planting heated, bourbon-soaked kisses along your neck and down your chest. Prying away your torn clothes, he turned to face the goons. “Is it ready?” 

“Yes, sir.” One deep voice responded from the shadows of the warehouse beyond your visible surroundings. “Before I have my fun,” Lannister stepped aside, revealing a tall dark shape topped with a blinking red light. “I’d like to record a confession, dear. For my sanity, and for the board to know the truth.” 

Raising his barely slurred voice, he turned to the camera. 

“State your name, for the record.”

“Please don’t do this. I don’t—“ Your pleading morphed into a screech of pain as the point of the blade ripped a gash in the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

“Wrong answer, pet.” Lannister took a swig from a practically empty bottle of liquor that had seemingly materialized out of thin air. A trail of blood wormed its way to the cement floor, pooling at your feet. You stared at the river of red liquid for a moment before stammering out your name. 

“That’s a good pet. What’s your relation to me, my dear?” Chucking the now empty bottle aside, it shattered at your feet, spraying you with cheap alcohol and pieces of glass. 

“I worked with you. In Queens.” A smaller knife plunged into the meat of your thigh and you screamed in agony. The larger of the two goons shuffled into your wavering vision, smiling as he wiped your blood from his hands. 

“More specific, Princess.” Lannister spat at you. 

“You were my boss.” 

“That’s right. Now tell us, how did you get me fired?” 

You sobbed, “I didn’t, I wasn’t—“ Grasping the knife still planted in your leg, Lannister twisted it, grabbing your throat. 

“Yes you did, you miserable bitch. You ruined my fucking life. I lost my divorce settlement, my job, my house, my reputation. All because I took an ungrateful slut under my wing.” Ripping the blade from your body, he hurled you to the ground. 

“TELL THE TRUTH!” Lannister roared, sending a brutal kick into your chest and knocking the air from your lungs. “Tell them that you seduced me for months and then used me to land a promotion. TELL THEM THAT YOU TOOK MY ENTIRE LIFE FROM ME AFTER I’D GIVEN YOU EVERYTHING!”

Stomping over your body again, he stumbled backwards allowing you to cough out a response. “I—I took everything f-from you. I was un-ungrateful.” 

Lannister cackled, pulling you from the ground by your uninjured arm. “Turn the camera off. They won’t want to see this next part.” 

The goons stepped forward to follow your former boss’s orders, but a piercing sound from outside halted them in their tracks. A horrific shriek, the sound of metal grinding on metal, echoed through the warehouse. All three men froze, looking to each other as if expecting to find the cause of the noise at the hands of their fellow assholes. Dropping you hard onto your shoulder, Lannister turned towards the source of the creaking and your head lolled after him.

As the door to the warehouse slammed open, you cried in relief as your weak gaze made out the black clad figure against the night sky. Daredevil. Your devil. He came for you. Tears poured down your cheeks and your limbs tensed, Matt’s presence drawing you in like a magnet. 

Lannister huffs out a laugh. “The fuck do you want, shadow man? Don’t you have robberies to stop?” At his sides, the other men shuffled nervously, knives gripped firmly as they awaited their next command. 

Matt stalked forward into the warehouse, his body stiff as it held his rage back, visible tension like that of water building against a dam. Fists clenched, he prowled an arc around your three kidnappers. “Step the fuck away from her.” His deep timbre was pitched exceedingly low with pure fury and it sent ripples of goosebumps across your bare skin. 

Drawing the handgun from the back pocket of his slacks, Lannister stepped towards you once more. “Do your worst, Devil. She’s not leaving here alive.” The world slowed, as if the air around you was suddenly thick as molasses. Your eyes were processing as much as they could as dread settled in your stomach. The barrel of the gun moved across Lannister’s body and pointed at you as his meaty thumb cocked the weapon. 

Simultaneously, Matt’s athletic form rocketed forward, skillfully dodging the swings from both of your unnamed assailants and leaping at Lannister. A gunshot rang and you traced the bullet as it soared towards you. Suddenly, your vision went white as pain seared through your body following the pointed metal cylinder as it tore through your abdomen. Screaming in anguish, your ears rang with a high pitched tone, the flash of white across your sight fading to black. The only thing you could focus on was the burning agony as the puddle of your blood seeped into your torn clothes. Forcefully shutting your eyes, your inhales turned shallow, and you prayed to your beloved Matthew that he would get you out of here before you took your last breath. 

Matt’s skin was alight with rage as he maniacally tore through the three brutes to reach your collapsed form. The head captor’s words barely registered in his ears over the deafening sound of a gun being pulled. No. Do not let it be her, take me. The safety was undone as Matt ripped one man’s shoulder from its socket, using the falter in his steps to knock him unconscious. He needed to be faster. He had to reach you. Planting a hefty kick into the next guy’s stomach, he brought his billy club up to meet the force of the man’s own body weight bringing him down. A hollow thud of a body on cement meant there was one attacker left. And then came the gunshot. 

As the bullet escaped the barrel it was encased in, Matt roared, the devil inside him fully consuming his consciousness as tackled the shooter. Knuckles connected with a jawbone, then the softer cartilage of a nose, then the lumpy space of a rib cage. Matt poured every emotion he had into this criminal, each punch holding seeds of guilt and regret and desperation. 

The smell of your blood cascading over the dirty floor broke him from his trance. Dropping the battered body of your captor to the floor, he dove beside you, hands hovering over your body as he assessed the damage. 

Sobbing in relief, he cupped your face as gently as he could. “It’s ok, angel. You’re gonna be ok. They’re not gonna hurt you anymore. Just breathe with me, please sweetness, breathe.” 

Your shallow pants stuttered as your hand weakly grasped his shirt. “Ma-Matty?” 

“Yah sweetness, it’s me. I’m right here. Gonna get you out of here, ok? Just hold on.” Ripped a strip of fabric from his shirt, he pressed it over your largest wound, biting back a pained sound of his own when you hissed. “I know, I know, angel. I have to stop the bleeding.” 

The soft smell of salt melded with the metallic odor of your blood. You were crying, holding on to the fistful of his shirt like it was a lifeline. “Y-you came for me? I’m—I’m so-sorry” 

Stroking your face lightly before he dialed 911, he cooed. “Of course I came, lovely. I’ll always come for you. Always. Now you just focus on breathing. In and out, sweetness. Good girl, just like that.” 

At the operator’s greeting, he spit out a rough command for police and an ambulance, giving a brief description of the events that had happened. Next, he pleaded for their help. There was no way he alone could get you to a hospital in time. 

“They were holding her hostage. She’s been shot, stabbed too. Lost a lot of blood. She’s still alive but she needs medical attention, please hurry.” He spit out the approximate location, scrubbing tears from his face as he pocketed his phone. 

Pressing his forehead to yours delicately, he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my sweet girl. It’s going to be ok. I’m so sorry.” Your hand raised shakily to cradle his nape. 

“Matty,” Your voice was weak, but determined. “I—I need you to know—“ 

“Hey, this isn’t one of those moments, sweet girl. You can tell me later, when you’re healing. You focus on—“ 

“No, please.” You begged, he fought back a choked cry so that you could say your piece. 

“I love you. S-so much.” You heaved a breath.  “I’m sorry that I ruined—“

“Shh, you didn’t ruin anything.” Matt chided gently, tears slipping faster after you'd confirmed his previous mistake. “I love you too, my wonderful, sweet girl. I won’t let them take you from me. I won’t.” 

“I’m sorry.” You choked out, and then you fell out of consciousness. 

Matt collapsed against your chest, clinging to the sound of your weak pulse as his body trembled with sobs. He planted soft kisses to your hair and cheeks, stroking lightly over your skin as he willed God to save you. 

The distant sound of sirens forced Matt to pry his face from your pummeled body. As the sound of vehicles approached, he made sure to alert the paramedics to your presence before taking back to the shadows. Hearing the clamor of attendants around you, he made a promise. “I’ll be there when you wake, angel. I’m sorry.”

Taglist: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @scoliobean @harperdoodle @mattkinsella @leikelle @sweetbee0108 @dark-night-sky-99 @fallen-angels2213 @will-delete-this-later-probably @cheshirecat484 @thornbushrose @vernon-dursley

[cakeleighh]

lmao I have so many au's for this funky lil guy

Bike au! bike au! bike au! bike au! bike au! :D (please forgive any spelling/grammar mistakes)

Don't ask me how I drew the bike, I was like 'hey why not use the select tool and gradient tool?' and then I blacked out for a few hours and when I awoke there was a bike on the page. I should probably drop some lore with this too.

So the scarab is still an alien that came to earth, but it was attached to -essentially- an accompanying spacecraft which the scarab is directly linked to. Unlike the movie, the scarab/bike was claimed by Victoria Kord almost immediately after Ted Kord died, and she attempted to reverse engineer it for her own interests. Unfortunately for her, the scarab was completely unresponsive to external stimulus and no tools were advanced enough to take apart the scarab/bike. There was only one instance of the mechanisms reacting to something, and that was long ago -before Kord industries was established- and they weren't able to get even an understanding of this alien technology at the time. And no matter how persistent Victoria Kord is, she isn't able to do anything with it.

Kord industries (founded by Ted Kord, with the inspiration of the scarab and Ted's brilliant mind) focused on making bikes and other motor vehicles inspired directly by the scarab. He didn't know how the bike worked but he could theorise and make his own inventions that worked for him. The company became one of the main manufacturers of bikes in the world, and holds racing events every year or so to bring in more publicity. Victoria does not care for these races, but she understands that they're good for the company. Victoria is -non surprisingly- more concerned about the military research and developments in the company.

After years of ruthless and expensive testing on the scarab/bike, with no results, the share holders expressed their concern with the lack of profits and new designs coming out since Ted's passing. Her researchers express how even Ted Kord was not able to get the scarab to respond, and therefore it had been almost 50 years since the scarab was reported to have activated (allegedly). With threats to pull out investments, Victoria was forced to abandon the Scarab program and quickly focus on other RnD departments. Though she personally still wanted to harness the power of the scarab, but she could do nothing without the money.

Through the neglect of the dismissed program, the bike is moved about into storage. But with one miscommunication, it ends up in the wrong warehouse. More time passes, and the warehouse is ordered to be cleaned out without concern for what's in there. The bike ends up in a scrapyard where it cannot be destroyed, so the owner takes the opportunity to sell it to another mechanic for a bit of extra money 'the company wont even know it's been resold'. The mechanic -completely unable to do anything with the funky beetle bike- tries to make his money back by selling to another scrap yard. And there it stayed for another few years, all the while Kord industries still thought it was in storage. This is where Jaime finds the bike, by accident, trying to look for his uncle's "misplaced" bike.

Jenny Kord is still a thorn in Victoria's side, not only concerned with the questionable ethics of Victoria's research, but preserving her father's legacy before Victoria destroys all evidence of it. Jenny knows of the scarab/bike, but has been prohibited in knowing it's location and status. So She's forced to go undercover as a presenter/cameraperson (This will make more sense when I show her design) at the racing events to try and get evidence on where the bike is being held, which is definitely easier when you have control of many cameras.

I made this au before the movie came out, and when I finally saw it, I realised the plot actually lined up pretty well already -which is convenient. The only thing I had to change was the inclusion of Jenny (cuz I knew nothing about her before the movie came out), and adding more detail to the antagonists. I love Jenny's design in this au (soon, I will release the pictures) cuz I had total free reign and a cyber-punk motorbike racing aesthetic to base it off. Also, she rides a bike in the movie too so I can actually base her bike off of the pre-existing one.

[mrghostrat]

Okay I cant -- I need to say it out loud.

I am 100% sure, at this point, you are my favourite artist so far. And I have to honestly thank you for a lot of stuff so let me get to the point before my anxiety takes me back --

I came across you less than a month ago. I don't remember if I saw your art before reading your fictions (Mon Horrible Cherì was my first) or the other way around, but both inspired me so much I can't describe it properly. Art itself is my absolute weak spot. In my past years I always struggled working on that, I was never happy with my results, and mostly had drawn to pay bills than for my own happyness. In the end I hated it at the point that every line I drew was a cut on my hand instead of a moment of joy. And that was horrendous.

But then I came across your art, at some point - and I was amazed. Your style is something I wished to achieve years ago, or very similar to that at least, so I was totally into looking for more, and more, and more. I can't produce art of that quality, but for the first time I wasn't envious of another artist's ability and talent, I was just... Amazed. I felt very happy, can't say why, but your style totally fascinated me. It still do. Anytime you post something new it gives me a shot of serotonine, it makes me feel happy and inspires me to get back on my Huion and draw something too. I started to push it through everyday, and in less than a month I grew a lot. You don't know that, but you pushed me into art with a passion I didn't had since I was 16, and I turned 30 couple months ago. Now it gives me joy everytime I draw. It doesn't matter if the art I produce is no good, or if I change my style everytime (I'm trying a lot of styles right now), the only thing that matter is the way I feel when I sit here and just let my inspiration go. And I feel happy. Happy to draw. Happy to experiment. Happy to share. Somehow I don't feel ashamed of my art anymore, and I was for a long time. I improved so much in these weeks. I watched carefully almost all of your timelapses (I am in love with all of them btw) and followed your tutorials more than once. Your examples, the way you work, is just inspirational for me. I've seen someone was thankful to you for the way you use references and says people out there to do it too: I want to thank you for that too. References was a taboo until last month for me, and I was SO wrong! Those helps so much!

So, well. I am not sure I wrote this all correctly, english is not my native language (I'm italian) and I may have done some mistakes, well, I do not care. I just hope I was able to express you my gratitude for all you did for me - I had to let you know how much this means to me everyday.

Oh also: I love every part of your art, but I could stare at your linearts for days and never get bored by that. And the way you color! Don't make me start on that. I could speak for hours. Not sure you'll want that, believe me.

So, thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for making me believe in myself again. Thank you for giving me back my passion. Thank you for reminding me everyday I can draw for myself, for my own happyness. And thank you for making me happy.

You are a great artist.

Thank you! <3

i put off replying to this because i wanted to draw you something, but i just haven't had the energy after work and dont want u to think im ignoring you 😭

but i dont have WORDS. i'm so fucking proud of you. i'm so happy for you. browsing your blog and seeing the sheer amount of art and AUs you're making is so inspiring. your happiness is contagious and i hope you only continue to grow, and continue to foster all that joy for art.

thank you <3

[vinsmokc-sanji]

Summary: Ace managed to break your walls, but he still has a job to do;

Word count: 873;

Rating/Content Warnings: PG-13, AFAB reader;

Author’s note: Another blurb based on these prompts — it's super nice to get back into writing, and I'm having a blast with writing those at a more relaxed pace ;

Request by: @gingernut1314.

The scorching desert sun had you furrowing your brow, but you couldn’t help but feel the ice-cold grip in your heart; it could be your akuma no mi, but you knew better than that by now.

It was because Ace had just announced that he was leaving.

You felt your lips contorting into a pout but had to bite your tongue so as to not blurt out anything in front of the rest of the crew — they would never let you live this down. You, and Luffy’s brother? Him, “Fire Fist”, and you, “Ice Heart”? That was something straight out of a comedy play or something.

It all started innocently enough: both of you, having such opposing powers, were playing around the desert with your abilities. You were a bit far away from the rest of the crew, so you wouldn’t end up hurting anyone by mistake (that was the excuse; in reality, the two of you didn’t want to risk Nami’s wrath in the case you end up throwing up sand at her or Vivi).

Your laughs echoed through the desert while fire and ice clashed, sand scattered around the air the same way snowflakes would be during a storm. You and Ace practically danced around each other admiring how your opposing elements acted when coming in contact.

Eventually, the both of you lay in the sand side by side, still laughing. The stars blinked upon you, while the moon cast a silver glow on the dunes. Because of your fruits, neither of you was affected by the cold and eventually, Ace started talking about his life with White Beard.

You were new to the pirate life while Ace had been living this life for years now. You listened to him entranced, so focused on his words that you almost missed the way his fingers intertwined with yours and how his thumb drew comforting circles on the back of your hand. You smiled nervously, your eyes scanning Ace’s face uncertain. Ace tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers ever so gentle; touching you like you were something precious, his own treasure.

“Would it be weird if I told you I can't stop thinking about you, even though we met just a few days ago?”

Your heart seemed to stop as butterflies burst in your stomach. You were not known for opening up to people, and Luffy had been the only one who managed to knock down your walls in an annoying little brother-type way, and that happened fast. You were warming up to the rest of the crew but still managed to keep your distance so as to not give a chance to heartbreak.

Ace was breaking your walls so easily and you had no idea why you let him; why did you gave him permission to touch you, run his fingers through your hair, touch your forehead with his and be close enough for you to count the freckles that decorated his face like the stars decorated the dark skies. Your breath got caught in your throat when you felt Ace's lips on yours; the temperature shock was enough to have you startled, but soon enough you had closed your eyes and given yourself to the moment, fingers entangled into Ace's hair and blood rushing on your veins.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“You can’t leave me, Ace. Please.”

Ace had already left the strawhats behind, the desert a dry vastness before him. He definitely wasn’t expecting anyone to call for his name and that was more than enough to make him stop immediately. Turning around, he saw you still in your disguise to try and blend in with people from Alabasta and a scarf framing your pretty face; a small lock of hair had escaped your scarf and now flew in the wind, stubbornly getting stuck to your glossed-up lips. 

“Please. I have never let anyone come this close before and I don't know why I'm so comfortable around you. But I don't want 

He could see the pain in your eyes and felt the sting in his heartstrings. The thing between the two of you was new, exciting, and something that wasn’t planned; but he had a mission to complete and a job to do, and as much as he would like to stay with you and his brother, he knew he couldn't.

The boy removed his hat and placed it on your head delicately, to then grand fistfuls of sand. The black-haired boy seemed to be lost in his own world, tong caught between his teeth and a wrinkle between his brows in concentration. At the same time, you had your fingers lightly on top of his hat, not sure what exactly Ace was doing that required so much focus, especially now while you were trying to express something so important to you.

Ace sculpted a small miniature of his hat for you, using his hands to mold sand; you clutched the little trinket into your chest, feeling the burn of tears on the corners of your eyes while Ace removed his hat from you and placed it on his head, hiding his rebel curls.

“You keep this one until we see each other again, ok? We will meet again. I promise”.

[mae-dwrites]

A Bundle of Heliotropes - Chapter 1 - Marking

| Masterlist | Start: Here <3 | Next |

| Ao3 | Wattpad |

After two people have turned 16 they get a soulmark, a near-exact, or complementary, mark or as some referred to it as a tattoo. This can be anywhere on the person, sometimes they're simple, small, or inconspicuous on occasion. Other times they take up a great deal of space, elaborate pieces of work, their meaning so clear much clearer more often than not.

When Marinette Dupain-Cheng was younger she couldn't wait for her mark. She hadn't cared what it would look like because no matter what it would be beautiful, because this was her way to her one in the Universe.

When she fell in love with Adrien she was sure it was him but slowly felt as though she was wrong as she failed to confess or even have a normal conversation with the blond. Why would the Universe give her someone she couldn't even talk to?

This led to her officially letting him go and giving Luka a wholehearted try, that was until he got his soulmark. Akumas, being Ladybug, and Guardian duties had already been putting a strain on their relationship so Luka getting his mark was just the icing on the cake, and Marinette thought it would be better for them to break up and remain friends.

Marinette spent months of hopeful vs. hopeless, and as her birthday drew near a feeling of dread came upon her. The day came when she woke up with her collar area burning with her mark.

It was beautiful, just below the center of her collarbone a circle resting with elm branches coming from it going across to end at her shoulders. In the circle was a giant ladybug, along with robins sitting on the branches of her tree.

Looking in the mirror left her almost breathless, she brought her hand up to the mark almost scared to touch it. For fear if she touched it would fade the canvas of her skin forgetting what had been.

The only problem was it was far too telling. A ladybug? As if that wouldn't reveal her. She couldn't show this, not without someone realizing what the ladybug truly represented.

She could show Alya, she had told her identity at the beginning of the school year. She trusted her not to blab about it, especially when a few months ago Alya was going through the Ladyblog rewatching her videos and trying to see if any of them could be of help. Then she stumbled upon her interview with Lila to realize that she couldn't possibly be best friends with Ladybug when that was in fact her. She apologized to Marinette when she realized her mistake and how it took her this long even after Marinette had already told her and proved she was Ladybug.

“Marinette!” Tikki’s voice broke through her trance. The Kwami had been admiring her mark, while it wasn't the biggest or the flashiest. It was certainly something to admire. Big and flashy had never been Marinette’s forte, perhaps her soulmate and her had that in common?

“Sorry Tikki. I just,” Marinette glanced into the mirror again looking at the branches and its’ birds. “I can't believe it.” The teen said the last bit breathlessly.

“Guardian, as beautiful as your mark is,” Wayzz floated up. “You’re going to need to hide it. Someone could put it together, even with the quantum masking.”

“Wayzz is right,” Marinette turned to face Tikki as she spoke. “We can't count on the Miraculous magic to hide your identity when a mark so clearly refers to your heroine persona. While our magic is ancient that doesn’t mean it’s entirely dependable either.”

“You're right,” Marinette sighed. “I can show Alya at least. I'm sure she's gonna freak.”

Marinette wore a shirt that covered above her collarbone, unable to wear her usual white tees. She wore a light pink top so that if the shirt got wet the mark wouldn't be seen through the fabric. Marinette had already been making it a habit not to wear her usual whites anyway, with how many times Lila had caused “accidents” that ruined them. It wasn’t like she was dumb enough to keep wearing something that would be affected the worse.

Marinette already knew that Lila would try to say she must not have a soul mate if she wasn't willing to show her friends. Honestly, Marinette could care less about that, as Lila probably wouldn't share hers either when she got hers later this year. Not to mention there were others in the class and friends that had been getting their marks recently and not all of them wanted to share. Also, Marinette might be the younger between her and them, if her getting the mark on her birthday was anything to go by. Which it was.

Marinette made her way downstairs while tying her hair back, over the last few months while she still was late for things she had gotten better at waking up early. It made her friends excited, that's for sure. Marinette was proud, she may not get all the hours of sleep needed for a person her age but at least she started her day earlier.

She grabbed an apple and made her way down the stairs. She didn't want to risk Lila trying to claim she had done something when she was least likely to have. So she made her way as quickly as she possibly could, despite her having more time to get to school; it helped to get there as soon as she could around a certain time. As the more people around to see her the less likely Lila could make her claims.

Marinette passed through the bakery giving her maman and papa hugs and kisses before snatching up croissants into a bag to share with some of her friends. Mainly Alya, Nino, and Adrien of course every morning hung out with her. Many of her other friends would sometimes join them, sometimes they were in a rush or just forgot to grab something to eat.

Everyone mostly “played nice” as Adrien tried to keep it. While Adrien seemed to play peacekeeper along with Alya they both had very different reasons. Adrien being so Lila wouldn't say anything to his Father and risk his freedom, and while they understood that it still hurt when Adrien sometimes took more of Lila’s side in the conversation, even if it was for the sake of “keeping the peace.” Over the months Chloé, Kagami, and Marinette had been able to convince Gabriel to be more free with his son, even Natalie had surprisingly shown support. But Adrien still turned the arguments in Lila’s favor a good chunk of the time.

Alya on the other hand had been slowly sliding more to Marinette, so as to not cause Lila into a fuss. Alya hated it, that much was clear, but it seemed as though Lila didn't notice as long as the Créole teen was spitting articles of her amazing life. Alya had made a separate blog to “support her friend” but what Lila hadn't noticed was that the writer’s name wasn't Alya but a pen name. But it had come to light for Lila that Alya still cared about Marinette and wasn't entirely leaving her. Alya gave excuses, true and false, but we're good enough for the Italian. But Lila taking notice had only been a recent thing.

“Marinette!” Alya shouted as Marinette made her way into the courtyard. Some people turned to see the dark-haired teen make her way to her friend, some of those students happened to be Max and Rose. Score, Marinette couldn’t help but think as it meant if Lila tried to say something they would most likely doubt her, especially if she was with Alya.

“Hey Alya,” Marinette smiled before hugging her best friend. As she pulled away she wasn’t even halfway out before Alya was practically buzzing.

“So?” Alya stretched the word out while bouncing in place. “Did you get your mark? Or is it not there? And if there isn’t one then that’s okay girl! Remember your soulmate could be younger than you and hasn’t turned sixteen yet. And even if you don’t get a mark I won’t think any less of you, it just means that you're free to choose your own destiny and-” and before Alya could continue rambling, something that she had picked up from the Asian girl, that Marinette cut her off.

“Alya! I got my mark,” Marinette laughed before finally letting go of the other girl’s hands. Alya’s face slowly went from blank to pure glee. She grabbed Marinette’s shoulders and shook her, “You. Me. Bathroom. Now!”

Alya dragged her to the bathroom, while others would be upset at the other’s demanding antics Marinette just laughed. Alya pushed the bathroom door open and surveyed the room, “Which stall is empty?”

Some girls gave her weird looks, but those who were friends or knew the girls personally giggled or simply smiled. One of them pointed to the one at the end. Alya declared “perfect” and brought Marinette in with her. Some of the girls said happy birthdays to Marinette while giggling as Alya dragged her into the stall. As Alya shut the stall door it could be heard some girls going “Oh” as they realized why the two went into the stall.

“Show me now girl!” Alya cried, the stall at the end wasn’t as small as the others but it certainly wasn’t one as big as the one closer to the door. Alya had mentioned that her mark might hint at her heroing, as a theory. It wasn’t uncommon for soul marks to represent someone’s work or passions, so it was safe to assume that Marinette’s could reference Ladybug.

Marinette pulled her arms out of her shirt before taking it off, her tank top left a perfect view of the mark. Aside from the straps, it’s not like it really mattered. Alya let out what had to be the loudest squeal Marinette had heard come out of her, and she had let Alya try many Miraculi on just for the fun of it. That sleepover had been the loudest squeals and laughter that came out of Alya to date. Till today that is.

“Are those tree branches? And robins?”

“Yes, and yes,�� Marinette said before bringing her shirt back on. “Elms if I’m not wrong. But I studied plants for that one nature-forest-themed fashion competition.”

Alya finally opened the stall back up when Marinette had her shirt situated, and with Wayzz and Tikki away. Alya just seemed to be radiating from excitement. If Alya was the type to jump up and down when excited that would be exactly what she would be doing now. Though Marinette had a feeling it had to do with how nervous Alya was for Nino’s birthday.

Nino’s Birthday was just four days away, Alya’s was last month. She didn't get a mark so she held out hope that Nino would be her soulmate, while being soulmates didn't necessarily mean it was romantic you couldn't blame the girl. As for all they knew, Nino or Alya may have a romantic bond with someone else. With how close they were and how much they loved each other it made sense to be scared of such possibilities.

Marinette was honestly scared hers wouldn't be romantic, not that there was anything wrong with a platonic bond. But for Marinette, it just meant finding someone to have her big house with three kids and a hamster would be much harder.

Marinette subconsciously touched where her mark lay, What if they don't like that I'm the one they're soul bound to?

“Marinette!”

The said girl looked up to see Adrien, Nino, and Kim waiting for her. A smile came on her face as she saw them. Kim waved at her overdramatically before raising a sign that read “Happy Birthday To The Bread Child.”

Alya and Marinette laughed at the sign, it had been a joke between mainly Kim and Marinette that she was “The Bread Child”. When they were in early collège their class had done a project about names and their heritages. From then on Kim liked to joke about her father’s last name.

Her other friends had slowly made their ways into the joke calling her bread-related nicknames. Adrien and Nino were the worst, as they were puns. It honestly made Marinette think their favorite hero was Chat Noir rather than Ladybug.

“Happy Birthday!” Nino and Kim shouted at their long-time friend.

“Happy Birthday Marinette,” Adrien smiled at her. The girl's insides swirled around a little at his smile, it was charming, one of his real ones even. Despite letting go of her crush on him he still made her flustered from time to time.

“Thanks you guys,” she felt a bit embarrassed but she couldn't care. Her friends always made her feel like that on important occasions, but she enjoyed it nonetheless.

“I'm assuming by Alya’s face and that she was practically skipping her way over here that you got your mark?” Kim raised his eyebrows at his short friend. Though most people at Françoise Dupont were shorter than Kim.

“Yes,” her cheeks flushed as she admitted it.

“That's amazing dudette,” Nino said in his usual fashion.

“Can you show us?” Kim looked between the two girls.

Marinette swallowed before opening her mouth to speak, “I don't want to lie to you but I want to keep it myself. I would love to show it but for now, I would like to keep it to myself.”

Marinette looked everywhere but her friends while she said this. They were gonna think she was selfish, or that she hates them when she doesn't! But because they think she hates them they’ll start hating her, and they’ll all leave her. She’ll have no friends because they’ll tell everyone and then she won't ever make friends for the rest of lycèe. Since no one likes her she’ll never get to be a famous and successful designer, and when she finally finds her soulmate they’ll think she’s horrible and hate her because she has no friends and that she's a failure. And then she’ll be alone for the rest of her life. She’ll never get her big house for her hamster and three kids, and-

“Marinette!” Her friend's voices snapped her out of her panicked state.

“S-sorry!” Marinette cried.

“Marinette, it's okay,” Nino said.

“We understand and we won't push you to show us,” Kim pulled Marinette in for a side hug. “We would never hate you for being private.”

“Exactly!” Adrien said with a reassuring smile. “It's your decision. Also soulmarks are very personal things, it only makes sense if someone decided not to share theirs.”

“It’s in your full right to decide who you want to share your mark with,” Alix said from behind Marinette. Marinette would have jumped if Kim hadn't been hugging her right then. “Honestly I don't think I will share mine with anyone when I turn sixteen next year.” Alix admitted before continuing in a joking tone, “Unless it’s something sick like a dragon or snakes. Then I would show that sucker off for all it’s worth!”

Everyone laughed at Alix’s statement before heading to their classroom.

|

When Damian Wayne first didn't get his mark he thought maybe he didn't have one, and he was fine with that. Even pleased one could say. As it would be one less person to care about, to protect, or to be used as a weakness.

His family reassured him that his soulmate probably just hadn't turned sixteen yet. Truly that didn't, as the League had certain beliefs around the topic. All Damian saw was that it was the Universe giving him that one person that anyone could use against him.

Lo and behold they would be right; just a few months later would he wake to his shoulder blades burning as a mark finally made itself upon his body.

Damian looked at his back with the mirror in his bathroom. It was…magnificent. It was the only word that could come to mind that held everything he felt about it, the young Wayne couldn't help but look at it.

A circle between his shoulder blades with tree branches that went across his shoulder blades and stopped just as it went to wrap around, clearly cherry blossoms were the branches that came out, ladybugs in flight or resting in the branches. While it made no sense it was still a beautiful sight. In the circle was a robin, its back to the viewer and its head turned up so you could see its face, as best you could with how the view of the mark portrayed it.

Damian swallowed, his body showcasing the form of nervousness without his consent. He couldn't help it though, looking at made his chest tight and his fingers flinching, desperately wanting to touch the mark. His arm made its way up and his hand came down-

He clenched his jaw as he turned his hand into a fist and brought it away. He huffed leaving the bathroom, and his face became a scowl. As he got dressed two parts of him berated him. He took a moment to calm himself, it’s just a mark. But it wasn't like a regular tattoo, it couldn't come off.

It was one of the reasons you, internationally, couldn't get a tattoo until you were eighteen, because you were one: a minor. And second, you didn't get your mark until you were around the age of sixteen to nineteen. At least that was the average range of the current day, there were some larger age differences here and there, but it wasn't as common now. Guess the Universe seemed to catch on to how humans had been viewing age differences in recent times.

Damian didn’t understand why the Universe had decided that soulmates would be part of the staple of its rules. An absolute that had become the conclusion long ago that no matter what you were bound to meet your soulmate, in one life or another. At least that was according to magic users and what the League had from hunting down certain magic users.

So under no circumstances could his family find out about this mark. He may have come a long way from who he was when he was ten years old but even still he did not wish to entrust them with everything. While they were family, his most trusted, and partners, he couldn't stand them over insignificant things. This mark did follow under the file: “Keep Out Of Knowledge For Long As Possible.” or as he formally called it “My Business.”

It was his business, and as it was his business it meant his brothers would poke and pry their way into said business. Damian stifled a groan as he made his way down the hall. Damian could only hope his brothers would stick to their recent “level 1: giving space” tactic, but that would only last for so long. He might as well enjoy the peace that came with it.

“Damian we're going skating after school!” Grayson exclaimed upon the young Wayne entering the dining room.

As much peace that would come with the level 1 space.

-

Being Tagged is always an option.

[jacevelaryonswife]

Please don’t go, I love you so, my lovely | Part two

Your brain has issued an urgent command to get away from him. He didn't deserve a second chance. But there was something, somewhere, that gave in to the touch and comfortable words that Aemond afforded to you.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

a/n: I try to make my stories/headcanons interactive to the fullest (as far as possible). The reader is the daughter of a lord of one of the great houses of Westeros, feel free to imagine yours. Also, I will not detail the appearance of the reader.

warnings: slight angst. Happy ending. English is not my first language, sorry for possible mistakes. Aemond is over 18 years old here.

inspired by breezeblocks — alt j

For: @faces-ofvenus @jojosyla

Part one.

“I wouldn't expect anything else, my love.”

My love.

Run away. Run away now.

You brain issued an urgent command to get away from him. He didn't deserve a second chance. But there was something, somewhere, that yielded to the touch and the comforting words Aemond confided to you. That old feeling. The same feeling that made you place your hand over his and gaze at the soft blue iris in front of you for long seconds. No, don't give in. Your eyes closed as you lowered your head, taking a deep breath to dispel any impulse that drew you to him.

He dared to let go of your hand and gently cup the other side of your face, warm hands enveloping and subtly caressing your cheeks. Look at me. He almost pleaded vocally.

You looked at him, mouth opening intentionally. He was so beautiful. His lips so pink and inviting...

Run away.

“I will think about your proposal, my prince. Goodnight."

You left him at high speed, taking a deep breath as you returned to your family.

Why?

Moments ago you were irreducible about the possibility of forgiving Aemond, and now, a part of your barrier has been broken. But in what sense was the rupture? Externally or internally? Did you let him melt a part of the wall that surrounded your heart or did your own nostalgia cling to what was already felt? You don’t know. And it consumes you for the next few days to the point where you can't fully enjoy your family's company. Even though you try vehemently throughout the remaining days, a fraction of your attention turns to your prince's words. Aemond can be many things, a liar is not one of them — and even if your hurt doesn't entirely let, you knew it. Queen Alicent also knew, so although she tries to hide her intentions at first, she intervenes for her son when she enters your chambers.

“I must say it was a nice surprise to see Aemond's intention to marry you, you've always been close despite the estrangement in recent years.” She commented quietly, watching your restless reaction. “My son has always cherished affection and friendship for you.”

“And yet, suddenly, he decided not to nurture either of them anymore.” You countered, standing up, looking out the window at the streets of King's Landing. “He never stopped caring about you, my dear.”

“I doubt it, my queen.”

“Do you consider accepting the request?”

“I… I'm thinking. But I don't know if I should. I think if it weren't for Lord Tarlly's words or my intention to return home, Aemond would continue to treat me with silence. I think he just acted that way out of fear of losing me.”

"Indeed." The queen walked over to stand beside you, holding your hands as confidants often do. She wasn't your confidant, but she knew how to get a reaction. “He was afraid of losing you. Sometimes we need to go through certain situations to realize who our heart belongs to.”

“I’m afraid it is too late, your grace.”

“You know you can come home whenever you want, your family being here doesn't make this the only opportunity.” She assured, taking you by surprise. “I will see to your return myself.”

“Would you do that, my queen?”

“Of course, my dear, I wish your happiness.”

Looking away again, you gazed at the last trace of sunlight from your bedroom window. “That is not the main problem, your grace.”

“He hurt me. He hurt me and I don't know if I can forgive him." Confessed.

“When people we love hurt us, it usually takes time to heal.” She gently squeezed your hands, urging your attention. “I'm not just speaking as a mother or queen who has always supported your friendship with Prince Aemond, but as a friend who believes you should stay. Give him one chance, think about it.”

If Aemond haunted a fraction of your mind before the dialogue with Alicent Hightower, after the conversation, the Prince One-Eye was all you thought about.

Absolutely everything.

Your breath hitched as tears blurred your vision. You were so confused, so angry and sad. You swear if you saw him now you could punch his perfectly handsome face. Why should you consider it? He left you.

He left you. Who does he think he is?

Your steps were steady along the red keep, heading towards the prince's room. Commonly he should be arriving from his fly with Vhagar, and even if he wasn't in his chambers you'd hunt him down every corner of the palace. He will not flee from you fury.

Aemond had been craving your answer for days. He felt nervous and uneasy, even as he tried to remain calm. He couldn't push things, he shouldn't, he had no right. But if he could… If he must. Eventually the prince must confront his own layer of sensitivity to let you back where you should never have left. He knows that his words are not enough, that his apologies are not enough, that his feelings are not enough. He is not enough for you.

You are kind, fearless, funny, loyal and companion.

And he... he's afraid to overshadow your goodness and sicken your soul.

The sudden opening of the door almost made him jump in his chair, automatically facing the bold intruder before leaving the book on the table. The whole action was a surprise actually, but seeing you standing there with clenched fists and ragged breathing was something else.

Suddenly all the words disappeared from you mind.

As much as your anger remained untouched, you didn't know where to start. The impassive stance of the man in front of you didn't help either.

He had never contemplated anything like your current state.

"My lady." He tried.

“The queen thinks I should forgive you. She came to my room earlier, tried to hide her intentions from the main subject.” You started. “All these days I've been haunted by your words, by your shadow, even though I tried not to think about you. So tell me, Aemond, why should I forgive you?”

Silence is your answer.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Your tone was tearful, moving until you was inches from him. “I loved you, Aemond!”

Aemond Targaryen was not an easy man to frighten or surprise. Though tottaly reactive, the one-eye prince sported the stoic, silent pose responsible for intimidating anyone in his path. He was terribly relentless in not showing any emotion other than indifference, but lowering his head in front of you when his hands found your wrists, he let a defeated sigh fall.

"I'm not worthy of your love, but I'm selfish enough to let you go."

His eye didn't meet yours as he decided to break in front of you. It was the only way. It was what he wanted to tell you for so long.

“After Lucerys Velaryon blinded me in one eye, all I could feel was rage. Revenge, to be exact. I hated him, and I still think I do. These feelings consumed me in silence, sometimes clearly, but never with you. I felt normal with you, like nothing had happened.” He paused, moving closer. “But I couldn't stop so much anger and hatred from filling my mind. I tried to protect you. I should have talked to you beforehand. I see that now, but not that Aemond. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving you. I will always be sorry.”

It was your turn to be silent. Your brain working hard to concoct what he was told. You swallowed hard, bracing your hands on his chest.

“Do you still feel it? The hate?"

“Yes, my lady.”

His eye met your, analyzing your features. Don't hate me, please.

“I’m sorry, Aemond.” You touched him gently on the left side of his face, grazing your thumb near his eye patch. "I'm sorry for all the years you suffered in silence." Your heart ached, not sparing the lone tear from escaping. "I’m afraid. I'm afraid you'll pull away again. I love you. I fucking love you and you pushed me away.” You confessed, burying your head in his chest, pulling him close.

“I will never forgive myself for what I did to you. I will spend the rest of my days proving my sincere regrets and my devoted passion. I love you, my lady.” He wrapped his arms around you, holding you painfully close. “I love you so, my love. Stay with me please."

“Don't break my heart again. Do not leave me. If you have the slightest bit of respect for me, don't deceive me. Don't push me away again because I swear, I swear I'm leaving.” Your voice was firm but low, confiding him truth.

"I promise. I won't lose you again, my love.”

You took a deep breath, still hugging him. He was yours. Your Aemond. Your man. Your love. Just like you were his too. And he wouldn't let you go. I wouldn't lose you again.

“I forgive you."

[abbeyofcyn]

Heya! I’m going around and asking a bunch of my favorite Tmnt artists the same questions out of curiosity

How did you discover/get into Tmnt?

When did you start drawing/actively start trying to improve your art?

It was a warm summer's day in August 2022 when I was hiding in the darkness of my home. Oh how bored I was as summer slipped away and I wished to do something more than stare at the ceiling.

I opened Netflix after ages of ignoring it and then I saw.

A trailer.

Bright colours flashing on my screen. Action scenes so intriguing I had to know more.

But... it was tmnt and... well ugh I never cared for tmnt.

But it looked so good...

I could try? Maybe it wasn't that bad? I could always turn it off...

Anyhow flash forward to now and it seems I've got a new hyper focus that has hit me hard and got me to actually draw fanart and even worse...fanfics

----

As for drawing, my mum told me that I drew as soon as I could hold a pencil. I remember drawing daily for years until...hm...13 years ago? I gradually stopped and often didn't draw more than once a year with a few revivals here and there.

With some pushing from others I started drawing again at the start of this year and boy I never expected to draw almost daily again. Let alone fanart which I almost never drew! (I only have some very old final fantasy and kingdom hearts fanart)

I uh... should actively try to improve my art but unfortunately I don't like making mistakes and you need to make those to improve instead of only drawing what's already familiar and safe. I also wish I could get feedback but my rl friends just like everything and although that's super sweet it won't help me get better 🙈

[ds9-polycule-tales]

3 - 2375

Elim looked up as Julian came through the doorway, the faint blue flash of the antiseptic field momentarily creating a sketch of his thin shape, stooped with exhaustion, as an afterimage on the back of the Cardassian’s retina.

“How is he?”

“He’ll live. And keep the leg, even, though that was touch and go a few times before I managed to modify the chemical composition of the antibiotic a little. If his grandmother had waited a few more hours before managing to sneak him out to us…”

Some of the sag of the doctor’s shoulders was relief as well as crushing fatigue, Elim realised. He held out his arms to Julian; drew him down into his lap and folded his arms around him. The younger man’s hands were rock-steady as ever, but his shoulders shook a little as he slowly relaxed against him.

“I still can’t believe his parents didn’t bring him to us sooner. I know sepsis can come on suddenly, but the original cut itself was deep enough. If we can’t get people to trust Federation doctors, even…”

“The medical profession on Cardassia may not…quite have always lived up to your particular ideals, my dear,” Elim replied, savage irony heavy in his voice despite its softness. “And given the Founders’ fondness for biochemical control of populations under their figurative thumb, I rather doubt that has changed for the better in the last two years.”

Julian’s body sagged a little more as he considered the implications. Elim tightened his arms around him, but resisted the sudden, still-surprising urge to say something to comfort him. The kindest thing I can do here is tell him the bald truth of the situation, he thought. Letting him discover it for himself – and potentially make costly mistakes in doing so – will hurt him more in the long run.

He could almost smile at the realisation that he, Elim Garak, was genuinely weighing his options for kindness, of all things; might have laughed, quietly, to himself, at the sheer absurdity of it. Except that Julian had never had to learn the many tricks of irony and distance that he, Elim, had carefully cultivated since he was younger than the boy whose blood still speckled the doctor’s uniform; Julian’s empathy and compassion was genuinely as raw and authentic as an open wound, and, somehow, that seemed to be bleeding back to Elim too.

“We can’t even supply shoes to make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Julian said tightly into his shoulder; almost as much a raw vibration of pain and frustration in his flesh as sound. “We have adult footwear in Supplies, but they’d all be much too big for him, and the whole reason he cut his foot on the rubble in the first place was that he’s already grown out of his existing shoes. I’ve already checked; all the replicators we have are flat out keeping supplies coming to keep everyone fed and housed and the time to work out a replicator pattern for shoes that will be outgrown again in another two months would mean other children going hungry. It’s awful, and I can’t stop it being awful without making it more awful.”

Elim drew him closer; held him silently, and eventually lay down with him. A cot in an infirmary cupboard had its drawbacks, but Julian was only going to sleep at all within earshot of his patients, and it was worth it, every bit of it, to share those snatched moments with him.

*****

A couple of days later, as the boy’s grandmother came to bring him home, accompanied by a somewhat stiff younger couple who had probably looked very much younger six months ago, Elim slipped through to intercept Julian as he went to bring him out.

“One moment, please, my dear. Child – Arabrus, isn’t it?”

The boy turned large dark eyes in a too-thin face up to Elim. Children all had eyes like old women, these days. “Yes, sir.”

“Try this on, Arabrus. Just your good foot will be fine for now.”

He held out a shoe to the boy. It wasn’t his finest creation by a long shot, but he was strangely gratified that his guess had been close enough that it required surprisingly little adjustment. He had the child wiggle his toes and push his heel back against his hand just to make sure, but he was satisfied.

“When your toes start feeling pushed against the front, Arabrus, just unscrew this little bit here a little and loosen them until you have room to move them again, just like this. I think your grandmother will know what to do, but if you have any trouble, you can ask back here. My name is Mr Garak.”

After Julian had seen the family off with medication and instructions, he came back to Elim with the first smile in days splitting his face.

“However did you manage that?!”

“Oh, never ask me to explain all my tricks, my dear. You must allow me to keep a little mystery, after all.”

Elim smiled his most untrustworthy smile, spreading his hands wide. But as Julian embraced him, he looked over his shoulder. It was hidden in the ever-present clouds of dust, but he knew the direction of Mila’s small marker stone like he knew his own heartbeat.

She had been an incredibly thrifty woman, always managing to keep things running smoothly even when sudden dips in Tain’s political fortunes had meant he was unable to send resources for months or even years at a time. It had been more common in those early days than the pride of the Head of the Obsidian Order had later allowed any of them to remember.

But Mila would have been proud, he thought, that her old working-class mother’s trick for making shoes that always kept her unspoken son shod no matter how little money they had or how fast his feet grew was still keeping children safer now, even after the end of the world. She would have been prouder of that, he thought, than of any monument he could build for her.

[dallysnecklace]

can you write an angsty Curtis!sister story where she gets targeted by the socs and tries to be strong but gets out numbered? and then the gang gets very mad? ty 💕

I Don’t Understand

Pairings: Curtis sis x Curtis Gang, Curtis Sis x Dallas Winston (Established Relationship)

Summary: request

Warnings: blood, cuts, beating, bruises, fighting, undedited

I hope this did your request justice! Sorry for taking to long to get to it anon. <33

“Okay. It’ll be 70 cents.” Your twin brother Sodapop said, giving you a look.

“Do I really have to pay?” You gave him your puppy dog eyes, pleading.

“Yes, Y/n. Do you want me to get fired?” He shot back.

“Jeez, okay here.” You dug in your purse and pulled out your wallet. You handed him your due and started for the door with your Snickers bar.

“Be careful Y/n! Socs ain’t staying on their side no more!” Soda yelled at you as you pushed the door open, wanting to leave.

“I will. Love you twin brother.” You said, not being able to hear his response.

Life had been kinda crazy for you these past few weeks. Ponyboy had been jumped, causing a rumble, and still Socs weren’t staying on their side.

Your boyfriend of about one year, Dallas, gave you his extra switch for you to be safe. He mentioned how the Socs, “Don’t give a fuck if your a girl.”

All of this had worried you, but you had an amazing support system, and plus it was daylight. Nothings going to happen in the middle of the day to a girl.

You were walking home, taking a bit more of a scenic route. You always loved nature and being around it all alone, and this route was perfect for that. You were going to meet up with Dallas on the way home so you two could hang out later. You were excited to see him, so your step picked up a bit. You became distracted as you thought about the boy you called yours.

He had asked you out almost two years ago, but it took around 8 months of convincing Darry to let you two go out. Although Dallas may seem rough around the edges, he has a soft inside. This soft inside is something he really only showed to you, making your connection very strong.

While you were daydreaming, you didn’t notice the Socs coming up behind you. What a grave mistake this was.

“Hey!” One of the spit.

You turned around startled by the loud sound, “oh, hi?” You said, knowing that you had to be nice to get out of this. You couldn’t put up a fight against five Socs.

“You’re the Curtis sister, right?” One of them stepped closer. You could smell his expensive cologne.

“Yeah, I was just getting home actual-“

He stepped closer and grabbed your arm, squeezing tightly.

“You’re going to stay here so we can teach your brothers a lesson.”

He quickly threw you on the ground, and the others surrounded you. Out of reflex, you grabbed for the switch Dallas gave you, and took out the blade.

“Oh no! She’s got a blade! Oh so scary!” Another said, sarcastically.

As one came to grab it from you, you sliced his arm, pretty badly.

He still grabbed the blade from you, and held it against your neck, ignoring the slice in his nice sweater.

“Look little girl, we just want to know where your brothers and boyfriend are. You won’t get in any trouble.”

You didn’t understand why he was asking you this, maybe something had happened? But you weren’t going to tell him.

“I don’t know where they are.” You said, gritting your teeth.

The one asking the questions drew back his fist and punched you, hard. You face whipped to the side, and you felt blood start to come out of your nose and mouth.

“Now I’ll ask again, where are they?” He said.

“Like I said, I don’t know asshole.”

It might’ve been a mistake calling him an asshole, but in retrospect you felt pretty badass calling him that.

He pushed your back on to the ground, and straddled you, punching your face over and over again. At this point all you felt was pain. You were sure your nose was broken, and maybe even your eardrum popped.

The other ones took the knife and made an incision right above your eyebrow, sure to leave a scar.

You realized that you had meant for Dallas to meet you a few blocks away, so maybe he would hear you if you screamed.

“HELP! DALLAS PLEASE HELP ME! PLEASE IM RIGHT HERE PLEASE COME OVER! ITS Y/N!” You tried yelling things that he would recognize, but in your state it was hard to.

Luckily he did, and ran towards you. He was expecting nothing horrible, they wouldn’t do that to you would you? Nah, you’re his girl, no one would do that.

However when he happened upon the scene, his jaw dropped.

Your blood littered the dirt road, turning the dry soil a dark brown. You were laid out, flailing back and forth as some guys kicked you.

“What the fuck are you doing to my girl?” Dallas asked, making all heads turn to him.

He took out his bluff heater, and pointed it at the guy who was punching you.

“I swear to god ill fucking kill you if you don’t leave right now.” He told them, nudging his head towards their car.

All of them ran, speeding off into the now setting sun.

Dallas immediately ran to your side, dropping to his knees and accessing the damage.

It was pretty gruesome. Maybe even worse than Johnny’s beating a couple of months ago.

He some something drip onto his shaking hands, and realized it was one of his tears.

You opened your non swollen eye, feeling your head being lifted into someone’s lap.

“Dal?”

“Hey hey hey I’m here doll we’re going to get you help.” He cooed, petting your hair with his shaky hands.

“Dallas I’m scared, please it hurts everywhere. Im scared Dallas what did they do to me?” You started crying, trying to open your swollen eye.

“Don’t be scared I’m going to get you home, okay? I need to pick you up.” He said, gently pushing his arms under your legs and back.

“This is going to hurt okay? Im sorry.” He said as he picked you up.

You winced feeling your ribs ache.

Dallas walked to your house the fastest anyone probably ever has.

The gang was already worried. You and Dallas were supposed to be home 30 minutes ago. Darry was pacing back and forth while Pony and Sofa sat on the couch, knees bouncing. Twobit was sat on the floor with Steve, both drinking a beer to de stress. Johnny sat in Darry’s unused chair, holding his legs close to him. He was worried for his best friends.

Dallas kicked open the door, holding you in his arms. As he walked in all eyes turned to him, and you.

Sodapop started to sob the moment he saw your figure covered in blood, and Ponyboy just sat there Shellshocked.

The rest of the gang stood up moving away from the door so Dallas could get in.

“What happened?” Darry asked, grabbing you and setting you down on the couch, with your head in Sodapops lap. He was so quiet it was almost hard to hear him.

“I heard her scream from down the road. Five Socs were beating her. She passed out on the way here.” Dallas said, wiping tears away from him face, trying to put on a tough facade.

“Ponyboy go get the first Aid kit right now.” Darry ordered Pony, making you wake up.

“Soda?” You said, looking up at your twin.

“I’m here Y/n, you’re home safe we’re takin care of ya.” He brushed your hair away from your bloodied face, more tears rolling down his face.

“It hurts, so badly.” You said.

“I know honey, it’s gonna be okay we’re going to fix it, just go back to sleep okay?” The nickname from your childhood made you smile, and slowly fall back asleep.

By the time they had fixed you up fully you passed out again, Somehow your nose didn’t break, and no teeth were broken. Your ribs were definitely bruised, but other than that you were okay. Darry had stitched up the cut above your eyebrow, being very careful. You told them the boys who did this to you, and you could see the red flow throughout the room.

“Dallas?” You we’re still laid out on the couch, but Dallas, and the rest of the gang was in the kitchen, talking quietly.

They were already planning on how the beat the fuck out of the dicks who did this to you. They knew where they were right now and we’re just about to leave.

He ran in, and kneeled by your side.

“Hey Doll, everythin’ okay?” He said, looking into your eyes.

“Can you hold me please? I just need you right now.”

Dallas was conflicted. He wanted to take his anger out on the people who did this to you, but you also needed him right now. He knew that he could beat those fuckers whenever he liked, and that he needed to be with you.

“Okay doll, one second jus gotta finish somethin up.”

He whispered, returning back to the kitchen.

“She wants me here right now, but the rest of you guys beat them so bad that they can’t even walk.” He said, eyeing all of them.

“You know we would do anything for her. We’re going to beat the life outta them!” Two bit yelled.

Pony knocked him on the head silently telling him to shut up.

“Don’t worry Dallas. You stay, she needs you right now.” Pony said, locking eyes with Dallas.

“Okay, bye, guys.” Dallas says walking back into the living room where you are.

“Can we go to my room?” You asked.

He silently said yes by picking you up and walking you to your bedroom, placing you on your bed, and joined you, taking off his shoes.

You cuddled into him, embraced by the safety he conveyed for you.

“I love you so much, Dallas, thank you for being there for me.”

“You know me and the rest of the guys would do anything for you? You know that?”

You looked at him and nodded, capturing his lips in a soft kiss, careful not to break your split.

You fell asleep, holding onto him tightly.

When the rest of the guys returned home with bruised knuckles, Dallas smiled.

All of the guys came over to your sleeping figure and gave you a kiss on the forehead, to show their adoration for you.

These guys would do anything for you, and you are so greatful.

[mirnightghost]

Okay, there are so many splits this year that I decided to draw this-

Let me briefly explain what this is: Every time Mir goes to a new place/encounters a new nightmare/a beneficial change occurs, a split may appear. This started a long time ago, I don’t want to go into details why and how, so let me instead tell you about these 2023’s splits!!!

The year began with the mysterious Gate, which in the end turned out to be not Mir (so here it is only as an example of delusion). He has two prosthetic arms and had a gadget that allowed him to read information (the gadget was destroyed) Nicholas's comment about Gate: "He with two prosthetic arms is still weaker than me with half one of such arm."

Clown appeared parallel to Gate. His peculiarity is that he does not see reality correctly. For him, the world looks like dreamcore, and all creatures are colorful animals. That's why he kills, because in his eyes it is not violence, but only a semblance of a game.

Rook appeared when Mir began to feel a connection with the well...rooks. As a result, he got a second bird mentor!! There is the same version with Falcon

Olive is the one who drew you pictures of Ballister and etc. Didn't interact with anyone, but was quite friendly and nice. He became friends (if you can call it that) with Shift (real name is not known), who turned into a whole world where Olive lived. Currently in anobiotic sleep, imprisoned in an olive tree. And damn, he almost got his own name...

GoldBreaker comes right after Olive, but no longer draws anything and barely breathes between constant battles. It is filled with disappointment and simply cleanses all the mistakes we have made...His fur became this color due to the constant gold that he broke (obviously). By the way, ordinary Mir's skin begins to burn when it comes into contact with gold.

Tired of battles and the golden world, Mir begins to try to explore the ocean – a place that has long frightened him. In parallel with this, due to...circumstances, he chooses to live at sea and becomes a guardian

My memories of the Agent of God are rather hazy, but I know for sure that he joined a cult and fought against the “wrong” ones.

RainGhost is very lonely, living in a rainy valley that is almost impossible for outsiders to enter. After feeling the final betrayal by those he trusted, he asks Nicholas for help and he adds “his numbers to his circle” (literally obliges him to solitude)

I remember Shot the least of all, he appeared for a short period of time. Is a dead Mir, shot in the head.

Warrior is someone who has opened an old Pandora's box, but has only become stronger. He is very much controlled by Nicholas, but only because Warrior allows it. No matter how cruel Nick was, he always turned out to be right, so...Well, yes, he received four prosthetics, the prosthetics on his arms symbolize the “meaninglessness of reflecting a nightmare”. The circles above his head represent the strong influence of Shane and Nick on him.

And we ended the year with Hydra! Hydra as a mythical creature (in the Mir's universe) means split, a common mind, but many bodies. This doesn't make the hydra weak, but on the contrary, it gives it strength and endurance and...damn, considering this year, it looks like an obvious end to it.

Yeah, Mir's lore goes hard-

[shen-daozhang]

You know how Mo Ran draws porn in a bunch Chu Wanning’s books and then just… forgets about it, evidently?

Anyway, I like to think that’s true, he does completely forget… until one day early on in Chu Wanning’s ‘seclusion’, he wakes up in the middle of the night with a start,

“OH SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT THE GAY PORN!!"

And of course he can't leave it in there because oh gods what a terrible thing to do to Chu Wanning! But he can't just go waltz into Red Lotus Pavilion and get rid of it either.

So I imagine that Mo Ran spends several days plotting how to get in there anyway and get rid of it, but he just can't make it work no matter what hijinks he tries to come up with (And you just know the whole time Xue Meng is going, "What are you up to? You're up to something, I'm not stupid" and then that becomes a whole thing because of course it does).

And after those several days of tearing his hair out, Mo Ran decides that he'll just need to come back after the five years are up and take care of it then. No problem, he'll remember! .....

Except he doesn't. He's just too busy doing all the things that lead to him becoming Mo Zongshi to dwell on yet another one of his dumb mistakes, and then Chu Wanning comes back, and obviously everything that happens, happens, and Mo Ran just... completely forgets.

That is until years and years later, when Sect Leader Xue Meng brings some old books that had belonged to the Beidou Immortal to a quiet cabin in the mountains because they end up reuniting with Xue Meng just let me have this okay and Mo Ran is idlely flipping through them before Chu Wanning gets home... and he comes across the dumb porn he drew all those years ago and he REMEMBERS and he's mortified again.

Then it's a whole song and dance about how oh yes, Xue Meng was here, yes I know he said he was going to be bringing some of your old books but wouldn't you know something happened and a whole bunch of them were damaged, it's really too bad.

So Chu Wanning drops the matter, and Mo Ran pats himself on the back for finally- after all of those years- getting rid of those stupid explicit drawings before Chu Wanning could see them.

... Except Chu Wanning knew about the drawings from almost the moment Mo Ran got his hands on his books. He was just too thin-faced to ever say anything about it.