#I’m not very confident in drawing the characters yet

[xxknockoutxx]

HEAIUSUEYSHEHDHDY!! I’m here to put on a request.. ITS KIND OF LONG BUT PLS BEAR WITH ME

childhood best friend isagi x reader who’s so good at football they got into blue lock purely on SKILL!!(the only girl in blue lock).

Past w them: basically reader has heterochromia (where you have two different eye colors) and basically they got bullied HARD (i’m talking korean bullying hard) for it. But one day during PE class, (they are 6-7 years old here) they were playing football, right? Isagi and reader were on opposite teams (they aren’t friends js yet) and isagi thinks reader is totally cool for how good they are at soccer and tried to befriend them!! (Which is the nicest thing someone had EVER done to reader since even their parents look at them like they’re monsters) so reader is kind of like “hey.. this guy isn’t disgusted by me..?” Ect ext time passes they become besties and mutual pining happens!!

ALSO READER IS VERY OUT-GOING😋 I’m talking more than bachira and shidou combined..

So basically I’d love it if u made a fic regarding this concept and its about childhood bsf isagi and reader meeting again in blue lock and everyone is like “..you two know each other?”

(ALSO READER TOTALLY MATCHES SHIDOU’S FREAK JS TO LET U KNOW😋)

so Ik that this is lowk becoming oc-like but PLS make reader’s description have like one part of her hair cover the other half of her face (specifically her eyes)

Isagi x reader

Hey??? Another person after 50 years? Thanks for the request is it alright if I call you K1o? I love this character by the way. (≡^∇^≡)

Note: RAHH RAHHB THIS TOOK MONTHS BC I'M LAZY MY BAD I'M SO SORRY FOR THE RUSHED ENDING I HAD NO MOTIVATION AND I FELT BAD SEEING THIS IN DRAFTS

For as long as you could remember your imperfections shined brighter than your feats. You parents were just as unforgiving. "Why did you have to be born with that look on your face" "Why couldn't you just be good at drawing, or singing, or as pretty as the rest of the girls?" It didn't even matter that you won championship metal for winning against all the schools in your cluster.

It was all alright tho, cuz nothing made you feel more alive than making kids cry over soccer. The bell rang about 15 minutes ago but you were still focused on getting ready. You heard that some more people were joining soccer practice at you elementary school and that made you excited!

As you walked into the field a whole bunch of unfamiliar faces met your eye except one teammate that waved kindly at you and toks you to hurry before the game started. Once you were ready you stepped oh the field with a feeling of unease. There was never THAT many kids that come to soccer and some of them look pretty good.

It rattled your nerves but in a good way you were still confident in your abilities. After all, soccer is your safe Haven. As the matched started it went just as you expected you absolutely annihilated the other team. Panting and coughs filled the field with a mix of cheer from your team.

That wasn't just it though you had a little admirer. A cute little boy with full cheeks, blue eyes and navy hair. He seemed so focused, so starstruck, so in awe. He stared at you as if you were of the stars shinning in the sky. The moment you noticed him staring, you were going to talk to him before a ball came full force at your head, causing you to lose balance and fall on the floor.

The impact caused your hair scatter, revealing your two-toned eyes filled with tears staring back at the direction the ball was thrown at.

"Your eyes are so weird! Why are they like that it makes you look like a total freak!"

That comment made you come to realization that your hair was shifted. Your hands trembled as you tried to put the hair back in place without getting another ball thrown at you.

The light shinning in your eye was blocked by a silhouette, the silhouette of the boy.

"Hey are you okay? Those guys are total jerks. Are you bleeding?" He quickly cupped your cheek for moment and analyzed your face.

"Can I... Move this?" He placed a delicate hand over your bang. You slapped his hand away out of fear of judgement but he just looked at you even nicer. He was calm and and gentle.

"I won't judge you I promise I just need to check if you're hurt. Pinky promise." The boy held up his pinky finger and smiled at you. It was an act so small but so impactful it warmed your soul to see someone be so delicant with you.

"Promise?" "Promise." He moved the hair out of your face and saw a light red outline from where the ball hut around the eye. "That's not good you must get hurting a lot! Lets get you to the nurse. She'll know what to do!"

The boy stood up and stuck out his hand. "My name's Isagi by the way. I love the way you play soccer!" you tucked your head down and kept you gaze low. "Thanks, I'm y/n, the most popular target and best player in this school." You lifted your head slightly and smiled as you took his hand.

"Eww!! Isagi-chan is dating two-face!" Your face blew up red and you were about to say something until Isagi snapped.

"SHUT UP!" The field was silent and nobody said anything they just looked in shock and some in fear. "You guys are mean and stupid for saying this stuff to Y/N i'm gonna tell the teacher you know!?"

There was something so cute and funny about hearing him be so serious and angry while threatening to tell the teacher on some bullies.

It was moments like that, that got you through life and now you're standing here outside this supposed rare and important meeting about soccer you were so excited you could feel the sweat build up on your hand.

When you entered the facility for the first time with the other 200+ applicants you were surrounded by another crowd of unfamiliar faces. This time it was a smaller group of people, a group of people who would become team V.

Eventually it came time for you to go up against the infamous team Z. They were the lowest of the low so why should you care? You noticed your teammates getting ready and began to head over to them. You nudged your teammates before resting your head on his shoulder.

"Yo ready to blow these motherfuckers into the ground?" You asked with a grin.

Reo and Nagi turned to face you and you were greeted with a grin from the purple devil.

"Yeah, it's gonna be easy crushing them in soccer with Nagi."

You nodded your head before forming a Mischevious grin before light tapping his shoulder and saying instantly.

"Oh I didn't mean it like that >:3"

Silence, damn silence. Before Reo let out a little giggle and walks his team out on the field. You were that smirk with pride as you entered the vacant field.

"Damn, guess they didn't show up toda—"

As the giant metals from across the arena open Team Z makes their way onto the field, getting situated and put in their spots. You could sense a joke coming and you took that chance. "Pshh I think I can take all of them at once" you said egotistically.

"I don't know, seems like a hassle to me, I mean look—"

Once again your smirk disappears into a confused face. "OH I ain't talking bout no soccer >:3"

Crickets. Silence.

Thankfully it was interrupted by the whistle that sounded the match to start. The entire game was filled with great action and excitement but as a whole it was pretty boring. Nothing really striker your attention until you saw.

Navy hair, blue eyes, average height, same determined look... Isagi? Where have I heard that... Isagi, y... Isagi, Yochi? Yoich, YOICHI!

You ran across the field towards him in an instant and completely ignored the match that was slowly coming to an end. Your eyes locked with his and you grabbed his shoulder.

"What the..."

"HEY! ARE YOU YOICHI ISAGI? DID YOU GO TO (ELEMENTARY SCHOOL) ?"

"Uh yeah how did ya kn-"

The sound of the whistle that signaled the match to be over went off and the screen revealed the overall result you..... lost. You got distracted and they scored. You didn't care though all you cared about was finding out if this was your friend.

"Wait..." He turned his head and looked at you, "if you don't mind could you move your hair?"

You hesitated slightly before moving your hair, showing your two toned eyes. It all snapped form there.

"Y/N!?"

"YOICHI?"

You guys jumped at the sight of each other and the confirmation of your reunion. You guys exchanged a hug and a hearty laugh. One that attracted the attention of a good few people on the field but you didn't care, all that mattered was that you and him were reunited

[spittyfishy]

A whole bunch of Star Trek art from the last year that I was too nervous to post on their own lol

[c0ffeejelly1]

Manhandling him

Multiple character headcannon

Authors note: UGH pls this whole things was for jokes bc I can’t really be that ask to make something I feel is good. Teehee. Also I can mischaracterise all I want okay let a girl dream pls. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Warning: man it’s like the smallest hint of the nasty freaky stuff

“Babe, you got something on your face. Let me just…” You reach out to your boyfriend, making him look your way by gripping his chin firmly while you flick away a bit of ‘glitter’ from his cheek. “There you go.”

Strike one.

That was just the beginning of your strange behavior today.

“Hey baby, c’mere I wanna kiss…” you call him over from the other side of the kitchen counter, only to yank on his collar and pull him in for one hell of a snog. “Seriously, you have no business looking this good today.”

Strike two.

Just what was up with you today?

You just got home from work, and as he’s about to sit up to see you, you suddenly push him back down onto the couch, mumbling something about how much you “missed him”.

Strike three.

You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to your lips, but then you pause to check out his face.

Perhaps you took this prank too far…

The type to be oddly into it

“…are you hard?”

This snaps your boyfriend out of his thoughts.

He’d never ever ever thought he could find himself in a situation like this. this is the kind of stuff you see in movies, right? I mean, come on!

Just picture how mortifying it is to be turned on from someone mistreating you! It’s pathetic!

He can’t just blurt out, ‘oh hell yeah I’m hard’ in response to that question—why would anyone even think to ask that? What can a guy do in a moment like this except deny it?

“What? N-no!…” He glances away, feeling the weight of your intense gaze. “…maybe?”

When you raise an eyebrow at him, his mask crumbles entirely. There’s no use in pretending.

You’ve already seen right through him, leaving him no option but to retreat into a shadowy corner and disappear.

“Yeah.” He responds, his voice tinged with disappointment. “I…I am.”

Maybe it’s because of the way you handled him like he was nothing that made him so bothered.

Maybe it was the way you looked so desperate to have him that did it for him.

Either way, he’s discovered something about himself he never knew he ever had.

And make no mistake, you were going to exploit this discovery to the fullest.

“Have I told you how much I love you babe?” You pull back from his face after practically devouring it as he stands there, grinning like a lovesick fool, dishes still in hand.

“I think you should tell me more.”

“Wrap up with those dishes, and I’ll give you a demonstration instead.”

Be ready for one hell of a night cowgirl. Wink wink

Charcters: serizawa, armin, EREN, REINER, ukai, ATSUMU, Osamu, Gojo, CHOSO, leviathan, SATAN, DIAVOLO, IIDA, denki, tamaki, CHILDE, Cyno, sanji, LAW

The type to think you’ve finally gone crazy

you call out to him, noticing he seems lost in his phone. Yet, oddly enough, he flinches slightly every time you speak.

This reaction occurs whenever you draw near him, as if your voice startles him, even when you're just a breath away. It’s not that he dislikes your voice; rather, it feels like he’s a bit intimidated by you now.

What happened to the confident guy who was with you just two days ago? Why does he seem to be tiptoeing around you like a child with a fragile toy?

“Y/N…is everything alright?” He approaches you cautiously, maintaining a bit of distance, trying to balance his interest with a hint of hesitation. “You’ve been…um, I just wanted to check—are you upset with me?”

“Upset with you?” You set your phone aside, raising an eyebrow at him. “Why would I be upset? Did you do something wrong?”

That’s the very question he’s grappling with. Your passionate touches and fervent kisses have left him bewildered about your feelings.

Are you so enamored that you can’t help yourself, or are you retaliating for something he might have done? Suddenly, a thought strikes him.

“…If this is about how intense things got last night, I’m sorry, but you did ask for it when I warned you I wouldn’t hold back—” His words are cut short as your hand swiftly covers his mouth.

“No! No that’s—just no. It was a prank babe, a trend I saw online” you say, removing your hand and placing both on his shoulders. “Last night has nothing to do with today or any other day.”

“Not even you complaining about being sore?”

“Not even me complaining about…wait I never did that!”

“Yeah buts it’s easy to tell.”

Charcters: REIGEN, giyuu, giyomei, JEAN, KAGEYAMA, hinata, kuroo, OIKAWA, AKAASHI, geto, NANAMI, Solomon, IZUKU, Diluc, LAIOS, zayne, LAW (Sowy I can see him as both)

The type to also manhandle you

Did you honestly believe you could manhandle him without facing the same treatment in return? Come on this is your boyfriend we’re talking about, In fact, I think he’s thrilled that you can boss him around so effortlessly.

So thrilled that he makes it into a competition

“Okay let’s see who tackles the first person on the bed.” His eyes shine with enthusiasm as he confidently places his hands on his hips. “If I win I get to have my way with you, and if you win, you get to have me have my way with you. Deal?”

You pause for a moment to process his words “…uh, how is that fair?”

“What do you mean?” he replies, brushing off your concern with a grin.

“I think it’s perfectly fair. No matter the outcome, you get a nice little reward, right?” His voice dances with mischief as he nudges you playfully with his elbow, clearly trying to elicit a reaction.

You roll your eyes at him, feigning annoyance, before relenting, “I guess it’s not so bad..”

“Exactly! Now, I’m going to count down. Ready? 3…2…” Before you can fully grasp what’s happening, he lunges at you, tackling you onto the bed before he even reaches 1.

“H-hey! That’s cheating, you can’t do that!” But your protests are ignored, your boyfriend already having you wrapped in his warm embrace, his face buried against your neck.

“This is what you get for how you’ve been treating me today.”

“What are you talking about?” You pause for a moment, though you suspect he’s finally caught on to your little scheme. “You mean me kissing you like any normal woman would with the love of her life?”

“No. Just you touching me all weirdly…”

“Don’t say it like that you make me sound like a perv.”

“Maybe cause you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“…”

“…”

“I’m not.”

Charcters: RENGOKU, tengen, connie, NISHINOYA, hinata (yes again), kuroo (YESSS AGAIN), BOKUTO, TENDOU, MAMMON, DENKI (twice and what), kirishima, ITTO, rafayel, LUFFY

The type…yeah you ain’t doing that

Screw everything I just said in the intro. If you genuinely think you can manhandle this man and succeed. You’re crazy.

“Hey, come here, you’ve got something—” The moment your hand nears his face, he seizes your wrist, staring at you as if you’ve just committed a serious offense.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh…I’m trying to like get the little speck of glitter off your face.”

“We don’t own glitter?”

“Dust then?” He shoots you a skeptical glance.

“…sure.”

So that was an absolute fail…

But you’re not ready to throw in the towel just yet. No way! You just need to bide your time until nightfall, when he’s all soft and cuddly. That’s when you’ll make your move.

As the evening unfolds and you’re prepping for bed in the bathroom, you catch sight of him reaching for something in the cupboard above you. This is your moment. The time to pull him in close and—

SMACK

“The hell? What was that for?” He rubs his forehead, clearly taken aback by your sudden move.

Who knew kissing your boyfriend could be this complicated? Somehow, you ended up colliding headfirst into him, and now he’s clearly fed up with you.

“That wasn’t how it was supposed to go…” you say with a shy smile, nervously scratching the back of your head. “You alright?”

You gently move his hand away from his forehead to check for any damage, and to your surprise, he lets you.

Wait a minute… you actually moved his hand, and he’s okay with it? Is this manhandling? I think it’s manhandling. It’s manhandling.

“…I did it.”

“Did what?”

“I touched you!”

“??”

Pls stop confusing this man he’s already tired enough.

Charcters: dimple, akashi, MIDORIMA, aomine, sanemi, KAGEYAMA (yes again), TSUKISHIMA, iwaizumi, TOJI, LUCIFER, bakugou, AIZAWA, sylus, ZORO

[canisalbus]

I just wanted to say that I hope I can one day have the confidence to go off anon and genuinely thank you for creating these characters and drawing them. Drawing them in love, drawing them content, drawing them scared, drawing their dread and their fears. The way you drawn them together is so fuckin gentle and soft, it’s the definition of human touch to me.

How different their bodies must be yet how they fit so perfectly with each other, it’s so beautiful and tender. I show it to my friends cause of how much I want to achieve that one day. I love the coloring choices you pick for their symbolic or religious art, for their raw emotional art, I’m extremely in love with all this and I’m so glad I stumbled upon your blog all because I saw two gay dogs on my dash and decided to follow.

You draw very good :D

It's the responses like this that keep me going. Thank you so much for taking the time to tell me all of this, you've made me feel like I'm doing something right with my life ´v`

I hope you have a wonderful weekend! ♥

[yan-lorkai]

Hi!! I loved your hcs of the Octotrio with a yuu that seems to only have a talent in art. I related to it a lot because sometimes I feel like I’m not good at anything else other than drawing.

I was wondering if you could do the same prompt with Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Cater, Leona, Malleus & the Scarabia boys please? If that’s too many you can just do Leona, Malleus, & Scarabia. Thank you 😊

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I guess everyone has one of those episodes, huh? I've been writing for more than 8 years now and sometimes I get hit by the "aa but I'm only good at writing, I should totally try something" and then I try something new and hate it bcs I really love to write and nothing can compare lmao. Anyway, I hope you like this darling, I did all the characters requested too btw ~

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Ace would be playful and encouraging, but his competitive nature would lead him to manipulate situations to keep you close. He’d play little tricks to make sure you stay dependent on him, offering "helpful" critiques that subtly undermine your confidence in anything but your art. His lighthearted facade would hide a deeper need to be the center of your attention, he is your muse, the one you use to practice, the who inspires you, making sure that you see him as the only one who truly understands and supports you, all while ensuring you don't realize how he’s subtly sabotaging any other talents you might want to try to explore, for he fears you will not want to spend more time with him anymore if that was the case.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Cater would use his social media prowess to make you art the talk of the school, ensuring your work — and by extension, his support — is always in the spotlight. However, his validation would come with a price, as he subtly isolates you from others, creating an environment where you feel your art is only appreciated by him and his curated audience. Cater’s charming persona would hide his darker intentions, as he manipulates your into believing that your worth is tied to the art you create under his influence, all while keeping you emotionally dependent on his constant praise. You're already good at other things, so surely you don't need to have another hobby, right?

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Deuce, unlike Ace, would be fiercely protective of your artistic talent. He’d encourage your art with an almost desperate intensity, pushing you to try different brushes and pens, different scenarios and things, but he'd also pressure you to stay focused on what your good at, ensuring you don’t waste time on things you never tried before. His possessiveness would manifest in his need to be your protector, to the point where he'd become intimidating towards anyone who tries to steer you away from your art, that does not apply to yourself, while he think your drawings / paintings are very beautiful, he would not force you to make it more if you're having an episode where you doubt your skills and think you are good only on the art field. If you want to explore new things, Deuce will be by your side the entire time.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Riddle would be intensely supportive yet controlling, pushing you to perfect your craft while ensuring you don't stray too far from his strict rules, even more if you are already his lover. His obsession with your success would become borderline suffocating, as he constantly monitors your progress and enforces discipline to keep you on the right path, nurturing your already beautiful talent. To Riddle, your art is flawless, it's personal and have a touch of you in every drawing, be it digital or traditional. When you come to tell him about your doubts, about how you're only good at art, Riddle promptly sooth you with gentle words, albeit he is a little awkward while talking. He offer to teach you about whatever you want to learn but be prepared because he is somewhat a strict teacher.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Leona would admire your dedication to your art, and he would ask questions about it too, learning as much as your interest as possible. However, his possessiveness would be almost primal, keeping you close under the guise of protection, ensuring you don’t waste time on anything — or anyone — else. Leona would be dismissive of your attempts to explore other talents, reinforcing that your art is the only thing that matters. His control would be subtle yet overpowering, as he ensures your world revolves around him and your art, leaving you with little room for anything else.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Malleus would shower you with endless admiration, captivated by your artistic talent, even more if you were influenced by an artistic movement. He'll notice all the little details, the subtle way the traces converge, how the color scheme is perfect, the way the shadows and the light reflect. He is your number 1 fan, so supportive of you. However, his intense fascination would drag you into his lonely world, where your art becomes your only outlet and he is your audience - though he has your drawings framed and hung on the walls of the castles, so everyone can look at it and admire. Malleus may not understand your struggles and why would you want to pursue another hobby, but he can arrange anything you may want to try at least once, from singing and dancing to sewing and knitting, even the art of potion making, archery or fencing. He just know you're going to find something you like as much as your art, and if you are happy so is he.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Jamil would secretly nurture your talent, subtly guiding your creativity while undermining any attempts you make to excel elsewhere, he sees your art as something free and with many meanings - it makes him relaxed in some sort of way and Jamil wants to be a little greedy here, he wants you to continue creating more pieces, always keeping you under his watchful eye as you started drawing / painting. There's just something so intimate, so calming about it he can't wrap his head around. He loves watching you creating your art, feeling is guard lowering just a little. If you ever approach him with your doubts, Jamil take you to the kitchen so he can teach you a few things about cooking. It's a different kind of art but when all is said and done, it's just as good as when you're creating and make you feeling accomplished.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Kalim would be so overwhelmingly supportive and enthusiastic about it, showering you with gifts and opportunities to nurture your artistic talent, buying everything you may need to create your art, a new software? Sure, no problem, he brought the most expensive one too. A few new pencils and pens? Right away. You need more frames and paints? It will be here in a couple of hours. However, his naivety mixed with possessiveness would lead to unintentional control over your life, as he tries to keep you happy and close by his side. Kalim’s well-meaning gestures would create a gilded cage, where your art flourishes but your freedom is slowly stripped away. He would be oblivious to the suffocating effect of his love, believing that as long as you're happy creating art with him, nothing else matters, leaving you feeling trapped and not knowing how to communicate with him. He have done so much for you already!

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

ANOTHER CHAPTER ALREADY?!

I mean

I dunno what happened

It kinda wrote itself, I had no real hand in this

Please consult with my muses on the subject, I didn't know they were this cracked out tonight

Anyway awaaaay we gggoooooooooo

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x AFAB!Marine!Reader

Ch. 7 of something there's gonna be at least two more chapters

First Chapter link Previous Chapter link

Brief summary of The Story So Far: Your mission, as a Marine and Zoan type devil fruit user (gray parrot), is to gather intel on Dracule Mihawk, a pirate on the Grand Line who has become a thorn in the Marines' side over a relatively short period of time. He's discovered your secret, and your life hangs in the balance of his mercy.

Possible !!Trigger Warnings!! in this chapter!! Largely for imprisonment and psychological turmoil, though not necessarily psychological torture yet. I will say, for readers who are used to my writing characters with a relatively gentle depiction, I likely won't be taking quite as gentle of an approach here. There is some Yandere possessiveness prevalent here that I haven't written much before.

Tags: Enemies to lovers, eventually NSFW, idk maybe more later

Word Count: 3,095

Taglist: @i-am-vita @browneyedhufflepuff @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @littleleelee @nerium-lil @schanwow @dragon-bubs @animefreak818

I'm happy to add anyone that asks. Still flabbergasted that the list is this long.

I forgot to do a music thing last time bc I was so sleepy but I'mma do one this time but IT'S NOT FRATELLIS?? WHO IS EVEN RUNNING THIS BLOG?? SHOULD YOU CALL THE AUTHORITIES??

♫♬The Game- Disturbed♬♫

Tell me, exactly what am I supposed to do, now that I've allowed you to beat me?

Do you think that we could play another game? Maybe I could win this time

Dead, you were dead, he was going to kill you, and all he would have to do to get the job done would be to leave your right there in the shallows and let the tide slowly wash in until you were submerged, drained of strength and helpless.

To tighten his powerful grip around your neck until you ceased gasping for air.

To pull the golden cross from around his neck and plunge the small knife hidden within it into your torso, drag the sharp blade across your neck, watch the light leave your eyes.

So many ways he could kill you, in this very moment.

And yet his hand moved up your neck slowly, his grip unwavering as his fingers wrapped around your jaw instead. He tilted his head the slightest bit as he turned your head to one side, taking in your features with an air of both amusement and vague interest.

“And you were doing so well,” he said lightly, letting out a small sigh as he shook his head. You flinched as the rough pad of his thumb brushed across your cheek. “If you could have just refrained from making that silly little call to your boss last night—aw,” he added, an edge of mockery in his quiet words. “Did you think I was sound asleep the whole time? Poor thing.”

It hadn’t appeared as if he had done more than shift from his back to his side in the time you were gone last night—there had been absolutely no sign that he had gotten out of bed, not a single sound outside the cracked door of the study.

You should have known better.

“Though I must say, I do appreciate the vote of confidence.” Mihawk stood in a swift motion, tightening his grip around your jaw to pull you up with him, drawing a sharp gasp of alarm from you as your feet lifted a few inches from the ground. Still drenched in seawater, you didn’t even have the strength to lift your arms, held up only by his grasp, limp as a ragdoll. “‘No weaknesses.’ I’m almost flattered.”

You swallowed as he brought you closer, lifting his eyebrows a bit, the corner of his mouth curving the smallest bit into an almost imperceptible smirk.

“Provided it wasn’t a lie. You have quite the penchant for fooling others, it seems.” He quirked his brow a bit higher, his eyes darting up and down your limp form before settling back on yours. “Well? Was it a lie?”

“Mm—n-no,” you managed to choke out weakly, your eyes wincing and beginning to burn as his fingertips dug harder into your jaw and cheeks. “No…”

“No?” he repeated lightly. “Now, I’m sure you can do better than that, considering how polite you were with your employer last night. And I’m afraid it’s not them you’re answering to anymore. Try again.”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes flickering down toward his hand. “N—no, sir,” you whimpered.

“Ah, much better. Now, then….” The spark of amusement remained present in his yellow eyes as he rubbed his thumb against your cheek once again. “I suppose we should get you back inside and dried off, yes? I’d hate to see you get sick, pet.”

Your stomach felt as if it had dropped out of your body when he lifted you abruptly and flung you over his shoulder, your consciousness wavering between the complete sapping of your strength from the seawater still drenching your clothes and the state of shock you were left in. You drifted in and out during the trek back to the castle, your muscles limp and useless. You didn’t jolt back to a remotely aware state until he heaved you off and dropped you onto the cold stone floor of an unfamiliar part of the castle.

“I do just hate to have to cage you after all this time,” he said as you gazed around, your eyes squinted against the darkness. Judging from the lack of windows, you were below the ground level—and this was confirmed when he lit a torch along the wall opposite the one you were leaning against. “Nearly two months, it’s been, hasn’t it? Hmm. How the time flies.”

The dim orange light of the flame expanded as he lit another, and you realized he had deposited you in a small, square cell. The stone walls and floor were the same as the rest of the castle, if a great deal dustier, but the heavy iron bars and door made it clear that you were in the dungeon beneath the fortress.

“But, you’ve really left me no choice,” he went on with a soft, disappointed sigh. You could just make out his silhouette against the flickering firelight, the rattle of chains as he dug around in the drawer of a heavy desk just within your line of sight. “At least for now. I can’t have you escaping before we have a proper discussion about…” He lifted a heavy pair of iron shackles, examining them before giving a short nod. “About several things, really.”

He stepped slowly into the cell, his pace one of leisure, and stopped a few feet away from you, looking down at your pitiful form as you leaned back against the stone wall of the cell, struggling to steady your breathing, shivering in your damp clothes. He frowned as he looked you up and down, and gave a nod toward you.

“Off,” he said, his voice low but commanding enough that you jumped slightly, your brow furrowing as you tried to discern his meaning. “Off,” he repeated. “Can’t have you getting sick. We have a great deal to talk about.”

Your clothes. You glanced down at the wet fabric clinging to your skin, your stomach turning—he was telling you to get out of your clothes.

“Oh, modest, are we?” he said dryly, lifting an eyebrow. He took another step forward, crouching in front of you. You flinched back a bit when he reached a hand out and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Two months you’ve spent constantly at my side. I’m certain I’ve changed clothes in your presence more than a handful of times.”

���I...I didn’t...look,” you whimpered out, swallowing, closing your eyes as your face flared with heat.

“No, you didn’t,” he agreed. “I did find that curious, but you were quite the curious little bird.” You opened your eyes when you heard the chains of the shackles clink lightly, and watched as he stood, rolling his eyes as he turned around, his back to you. “Fine,” he said. “You may keep your undergarments. They’ll dry quickly enough.”

You almost wished that he had just killed you out by the shore. The embarrassment, the utter humiliation of pulling your tank top over your head and letting it fall to the floor with the towering form of the swordsman only a few feet away was enough to make you wish you could drop dead on the spot. You fumbled with your belt buckle, the buttons at the fly of your pants, before kicking them off along with your boots, wrapping your arms around your knees and clenching your eyes shut, trembling from more than just the cold, damp air of the dungeon now.

You heard a rustle of fabric in front of you, and before you could open your eyes you felt the material land in a heap at your feet. You cracked an eye open and frowned at the white heap.

Glanced up at him, your eyes widening as you realized he had removed his flowy, ruffled shirt, his back and shoulders bare as he crossed his arms, still facing the door of the cell.

“Put it on,” he commanded, stepping out of the cell. “And quickly. I pride myself on many things, my dear pet, but patience is not among them.”

You were already picking up the shirt and shrugging it around your shoulders before he finished, fumbling with the buttons with unsteady hands. The shirt was large enough on your much smaller form that it covered you from your shoulders to more than halfway down your thighs, the hem brushing your knees as you tugged it down, staring down at the floor, listening to the chair at the desk scrape across the stone. He set it down in front of you and tossed the shackles down at your feet, taking a seat and crossing an ankle over his knee.

“Those as well,” he said.

The moment your hand touched the shackles, you felt what little strength you had managed to regain begin to drift away from your body all over again. He chuckled when you drew your hand back as if you had been shocked.

“Seastone,” he said. “I salvaged them from the wreckage of a Marine vessel a handful of years ago. Thought they might prove useful one day. Go on.” He nodded down at them as you briefly met his eyes. “Around your ankles. So long as you remain compliant, I will allow you the continued use of your hands. You may need them at some point.”

You didn’t dare ask what that might mean.

You did, however, do as he told you. The seastone shackles felt as if they weighed fifty or more pounds, and it took some effort for you to drag them up even to the height of your ankles and clamp them shut.

“Very good,” he commended, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms, his eyes never leaving you as you slumped back weakly against the walls. “Still such an obedient pet, aren’t you?” Every breath you drew in took a herculean effort, felt as if it might be the last you managed to draw before you passed out from sheer physical exhaustion. “Now, this is a first on my part. I’ve never been one to waste time taking prisoners. You ought to consider yourself privileged. Grateful for my continued hospitality despite your blatant betrayal.”

You swallowed, unable to do anything but give a weak nod.

He gave another small chuckle. “You’ve been trained to handle being the victim of a potential hostage situation,” he commented—it wasn’t a question. He cocked his head slightly to the side. “You’re quite small for a Marine. What rank are you, little bird?”

“Cadet,” you forced out—and, when he lifted an eyebrow, you quickly added, “s—sir.”

“Cadet,” he repeated, leaning back a bit further. “Hm.” He lifted a hand to his chin, his expression thoughtful as he brushed his thumb across his short goatee. “And they saw fit to send you after me.” You nodded again. “Your commanding officers either have a great amount of faith in your potential or they were trying to get rid of you. Which do you think it was?”

“T...they offered me the mission,” you said quietly. “I could have turned it down.”

“Faith in your potential, then,” he said lightly. “What a pity for them Of course, they weren’t wrong,” he went on, lowering his hand down to his knee, strumming his fingers there slowly. “You did play your role well. Well enough to fool that charming pet shop owner in Acacia, even. A veritable expert on the subject. You must have done your homework. Breezed through all your tests with flying colors. I did my own homework, as you know. Amid my reading, I recall mention that wounded or sick pets might show signs of decreased appetite. Interruption of sleep. In extreme cases, potentially isolating themselves from their owners. You see…” He tilted his head once more to meet your eyes, his gaze holding your own with an intensity that made it impossible for you to break the contact. “Had I not woken last night we might not even be having this conversation. Had I not noticed your absence and worried enough to go looking for you.”

Your worry over your mission. Your inability to eat or sleep regularly. Of course he had noticed. You were an idiot to think he wouldn’t have noticed.

“Had I not heard a voice coming from the study below my chambers,” he went on, lowering his voice, “you might have been able to complete your mission without a single hitch. I would have been forced to assume when you left that you had flown off somewhere to die.”

You flinched at that, closing your eyes and lowering your head.

“Oh, now what is this?” He chuckled. “Are we feeling guilty?”

“Yes.” You spoke through gritted teeth—there was no point in lying. You were already compromised, already at his mercy. “I…made the call last night because I…I couldn’t leave with nothing to show for it. Or without…” You swallowed once more, lowering your head to your knees. “I only had four days left. I was expected to slip away unnoticed and rendezvous with my commanding officers at a designated location before returning to Marineford to report on any potential weaknesses of yours I might have discovered.”

“And you claimed you found none,” he continued for you.

You nodded. “But...caring for another living creature is always a potential weakness,” you said quietly.

“Aaah.” You swallowed dryly, clenching your eyes shut tighter as you heard him push the chair back. The whisper of his boots on the stone floor as he took a step forward, the quiet rustle as he crouched down in front of you. “And you were unwilling to list your own presence as a potential weakness. Is that it?” You nodded again, and tensed as he caught your chin in his hand. “And here I’ve already admitted to having worried for the well-being of my pet. You certainly did do a stellar job, didn’t you, my little bird?”

His tone, his touch was almost gentle, despite that edge of persisting amusement at your predicament.

“Open your eyes.”

You obeyed his command once again—though your eyelids fluttered in your growing state of exhaustion brought on by the effects of the seastone shackles wrapped around your ankles, you did your best to maintain eye contact, only vaguely aware of his thumb brushing across your bottom lip as you gazed into his yellow irises.

“I may yet have use for you,” he murmured, his voice still light and amused. “I suppose you are a pretty little thing, if nothing else. And your abilities...well, you managed to fool me, now, didn’t you? Don’t,” he added, his tone sharpening as your eyes began to drift shut, and they shot back open. “There’s one more matter. You spoke of some offer while you were making your call last night. What is it?”

“W...warlord,” you forced out. “The World Government wants to offer pirates they consider too dangerous to combat status as ‘Warlords.’ No more than seven. Bounties expunged in exchange for an agreement to cease hostility against Marines and other World Government officials, and potentially being called upon to assist with other threats.”

“Warlords,” he repeated, letting out a quiet chuckle. “And you’ve been granted permission to extend me this offer?” You gave a small nod, blinking slowly, fighting to keep your eyes open. “Since you’ve reported to your commanding officers that I have no weaknesses they can exploit.” Another nod, and a quiet affirmative hum. “Mm-hmm,” he repeated, smirking. “I suppose it’s worth thinking over. At least until you’ve regained the ability to discuss the subject coherently.”

“Four days.” He lifted his eyebrows at your mumbling, waiting for you to continue. “Need to make contact in four days or they could send a Buster Call.”

“Ah.” His thumb brushed across your cheek, and you found yourself leaning unconsciously toward the warmth of his palm. “So they would sink this entire island into the depths of the ocean with you still on it, would they?” The hum you gave this time was neither affirmative nor dissenting—it was simply in acknowledgment that he had spoken at all, as your lessening coherency made it increasingly difficult to follow his words. “That does sound quite like the Marines. Heaven forbid they should have any loose ends to worry about.”

He expelled a slow sigh, one that might have been of resignation or annoyance, or perhaps some melding of both. Either way, the warmth of his breath across your face made your eyes drift shut, made you fall fully limp against the wall behind you.

You barely registered anything beyond that. Not his light shake at your shoulder in attempt to rouse you, his exasperated sigh as he caught you before you could fall sideways and hit your head against the stone floor.

Not his irritated grumble of, “Troublesome woman,” as he drew one of your hands up to cushion your head against the hard stone floor before he pulled himself to his feet to frown down at you.

To wonder why he hadn’t shoved his way through the door of his study the moment he heard your voice last night and throttled you in that moment.

To wonder why the hell he still had any concern at all for your continued safety and well-being.

You had spent two months, two months deceiving him, abusing his good will, masquerading as a loyal companion when you were nothing more than a dirty little spy.

His hands twitched into fists for a moment as he stared down at you, gritting his teeth. He could end your life right now. It would be only too easy. Crush your throat beneath the heel of his boot. Wrap a hand around your delicate neck until the labored rise and fall of your chest ceased entirely. You had already warned him of the Marines’ potential intent to destroy this island. He could dispose of you and leave on his own before that ever came to pass.

You shifted in your sleep on the cold stone floor, shivering slightly and laying a hand over the toe of one of his boots.

Mihawk swore under his breath, reaching behind him to drag the chair back into place and sit down heavily, crossing his arms over his chest as he surveyed your slight form below him on the floor covered only by his own shirt.

“What exactly am I supposed to do with you?” he grumbled under his breath, shaking his head, not completely aware himself of how his own gaze softened as he looked down at you. “Useless thing….”

His prisoner.

His pet.

His pretty little bird.

He would be damned if anyone but him were allowed to decide your fate.

First chapter and Previous chapter links again for your convenience

[onlydylanobrien]

Dylan O’Brien Talks His Queer Indie Twinless: “The Most Naked Thing I’ve Ever Had to Do”

The Teen Wolf and Maze Runner star goes deep on his biggest career swing yet, portraying identical twins in James Sweeney’s trippy, moving tale of grief and friendship.

When James Sweeney first considered casting Dylan O’Brien in his new film, Twinless, he came in with some preconceived notions about the actor. This was five years ago, before the Teen Wolf alum had started his run in acclaimed indies like Not Okay and Ponyboi. “He was a studio actor—the projects that he had upcoming were these big budget movies,” Sweeney recalls thinking. Beside him on Zoom now, O’Brien shakes his head at the memory: “Even on the first Zoom with James, those movies that came up had me going like, ‘Oh my God, that’s not all you think of me, is it?’”

Then James came across two relatively obscure entries in O’Brien’s filmography that showcased his versatility—and willingness to get weird. The first was the pilot episode of YouTube’s Weird City, in which two straight guys (O’Brien and Ed O’Neill) fall in love and get married. The second was O’Brien’s outrageously committed recreation of a key scene from The Social Network with Sarah Ramos, which went viral the same year Sweeney and O’Brien first met. “I used to work in casting as my day job, and sometimes people have a very myopic view of what an actor can do,” Sweeney says. “To me, it’s exciting to cast them in something that I haven’t seen them do.”

You might guess what that thing is based on this strange, biting film’s title. In Twinless, we first meet O’Brien’s Roman grieving the sudden loss of his identical twin, Rocky (also O’Brien). The character is mournful, quiet, and gentle, only enlivened once he meets and starts to bond with a guy named Dennis (Sweeney) in a local twin bereavement support group. In flashbacks, we then meet Rocky—tartly witty, boisterous, and proudly queer—at which point the scope of O’Brien’s impressive, emotional performance comes into full view.

“Dylan really took ownership over the character and an understanding of my voice in a way that was really affirming,” James says. O’Brien felt a kinship with his director: “I felt like I spoke a very similar emotional language.”

Sweeney grew up fascinated by twins, including as an avid consumer of Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen content. Some years ago, he dated an identical twin. Right after they broke up, Sweeney began writing Twinless. Clearly, all that was inspiration worth drawing from: After making its world premiere in Park City to strong reactions, we’ve already got a breakout from this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Sweeney both directs and stars in Twinless, as he did on his debut feature, the sharp comedy Straight Up. “I wasn’t gung ho to do the masochist ball again,��� he says with a laugh. “Even the idea of me opposite Dylan O’Brien, who’s famous while I’m literally nobody—that’s not good business! That’s the producer side of my brain.” Yet the film’s actual producer, Oscar nominee David Permut (Hacksaw Ridge), gave Sweeney the confidence to go for it.

From there, he and O’Brien worked to find a deep, off-kilter intimacy. “On day two, we were doing an intimate conversation scene, and I’m like, ‘The crew’s away, we’ve got to go,’ and Dylan was like, ‘No, we can take time and rehearse this with us and everyone else can wait,’” Sweeney says. “Even that moment of calm and having it just between us, it really set the tone…. Dylan really advocated for that.”

Sweeney and Dylan share most of their scenes in the film, which goes to some delightfully surprising, discomfiting, and absurdist places. There’s pain to Twinless, but it’s laced with dark, cuttingly honest comedy. “That loss of the ground underneath you walking around this world is so tragic,” O’Brien says. “It just broke my heart in such a profound way when I first read it.”

His most emotional scene in the movie pushed him to look inward. “I honored it verbatim on the day, which might be the only time in my career that’s happened,” O’Brien says with a laugh. “It’s the most naked thing I’ve ever had to do on a set. Even at 32 years old—I’ve been doing this for going on 15 years now. It’s so beautiful that you can still have a moment that is such an impactful evolution for yourself.”

“After he did that scene, it was so fucking good. And then I had to do my [big] scene the next day,” Sweeney adds. “I was like, Fuck. If I don’t get this, I’m going to ruin the movie. That terrified me.”

Another thing that got Sweeney’s anxiety going: Shooting a vivid, graphic sex scene. “It was the most revealing, mature scene that I had done in my directing career so far,” he says. Yet Twinless finds its funky heart in its most romantic, explicit aspects, building on the nuanced and textured approach to queerness that Sweeney first demonstrated in Straight Up. “It’s just one of those things you throw yourself into,” O’Brien says. “The crew was really tight-knit, and it was a cool vibe. Everyone got what we were doing.” So much so that Sweeney and O’Brien didn’t need as much assistance as expected.

“We decided to have an intimacy coordinator on set—but I don’t think we needed one, and I don’t think the intimacy coordinator thought we needed one,” Sweeney says. O’Brien booms with laughter at the memory. “He was hilarious,” O’Brien says. “He ducked out early. He’s like, ‘Oh, you’re good.’”

Source: vanityfair.com

[raven--bones]

I'm really loving your incubus au! I am excited and horrified to see what happens to our summoner next. And I'm really interested to see how the rest of the boys (especially Dream and Blue) get roped into these shenanigans.

ask and ye shall receive <3

incubus nightmare/reader part 2! (part 1 here) characters: nightmare, gender neutral reader word count: 1946 summary: there is an archdemon in your living room.

The archdemon looms above you in the dark, his unbroken horn nearly brushing your ceiling. He has to be well over two metres tall. 

“Hello, little mageling.” His voice is intoxicating; deep, alluring, and warm like mulled wine. He speaks calmly, softly, with utter confidence. He doesn’t need to raise his voice to command your attention. 

You don’t dare look away for even a second. You feel like you’ll be eaten up by the darkness if you do. You can feel cool, shadowy tendrils stroking along your legs already, keeping you held in place on the floor. 

“Do you know who I am?” 

Your voice is dead in your throat. Your mind is racing, desperate to place his appearance to the archdemons you know… but you can’t. You’re not that far in your studies yet. You’ve only barely started to research the minor demons for your courses. You weren’t meant to be summon demons with names, let alone archdemons. 

You’re trapped with an uncontained archdemon in your living room and you don’t even know which one it is. You can guess, but to be wrong is to risk insulting something powerful enough to consume your soul. 

The archdemon slowly lowers into a crouch, his robes shifting in colour like an oil slick. The movement reminds you of a tiger preparing to pounce. Even like his he is so much bigger than you and no less intimidating. The tentacles at his back curl and weave around you, boxing you in. You lie there frozen in his shadow. “No? My, how very reckless… using an incantation outside your comprehension.”

He reaches forward slowly. The tip of one massive claw rests gently against your throat, then slowly slides up until the point presses, dangerously sharp, against the soft skin under your chin. The touch ignites a frigid chill of fear down your spine and a spark of warmth in your belly. The archdemon’s grin widens and the shadows clinging along your legs constrict. “Tell me, sorcerer. Are you aware of what you have done?”

You still can’t speak. The air is heavy with cold, dense magic. It feels like you’re slowly choking.

The archdemon hums; a low, dark sound that you can feel in your bones. “I see.” He pulls his claw back from your throat and you gasp for air when you can suddenly breathe, the pressure of the magic around you released. The atmosphere is still thick with mana but at least you can breathe. 

You struggle to catch your breath despite it. Your heart is pounding in your chest. 

The demon awaits your answer.

When you finally find your voice it sounds weak and hollow. It wavers with your fear and trepidation. “I-I don’t know. I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to summon you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing.” Your voice breaks with every apology. All you can do is hope that your sincerity earns you mercy, that your desperation overpowers whatever it was that had earned his curiosity. If he loses interest in you maybe he’ll grow bored and leave you be. 

“Allow me to enlighten you.” He reaches down and taps a claw to the little incubus’ drawing. “This is one of the first summoning circles your kind created. Barely strong enough for even a lowly imp. And this…” He holds up your notecard now, your handwriting barely visible for the moonlight through the window. The incantation you’d copied. “This is a spell, older than your little human civilisation, to summon me.” 

But that… that doesn’t make sense. Your gaze drops to the dozens of papers scattered around you as though they hold the answer. None of this is making any sense. You can’t combine incompatible circles and spells, they’re complimentary to each other. The matching ones have to be used together.

The cool, slick end of a tentacle finds its way under your chin, tilting your face up to meet the archdemon’s again. 

“Come now. Surely you can put the pieces together.” 

The spoken spell is the catalyst, the instructions you’re trying to give the magic. The rune circle is those instructions translated into something your mana can focus through, with the added bonus of amplifying it with the ambient mana around you; without a circle a human’s intent is too fickle and fleeting to be used.

No mage you’ve ever heard of can do magic with only the spoken component.

This is bad. This is very bad. There’s something weird with your magic, clearly, but this archdemon knows what it is… and it’s only making him more and more interested in you. 

“You are a clever thing, aren’t you.” He’s watching you like a cat with a canary caught in its claws; like he wants to rip you apart and consume you in equal measure. “Tell me your name, little sorcerer.” 

All you can do is obey. Maybe if you play along you can get out of this unscathed. You tell him your name. The archdemon echoes it back to you and something about the way he says it feels like a vice around your heart. Constricting and final. 

He seems pleased by your compliance, slowly standing to his full height with an amused hum. “I am known by many names.” You’re pushed to your feet by the tentacles around you. Your knees are weak and as you falter a tentacle winds around your waist to keep you upright. Another loops behind your shoulders, walling you in until all you can see is the demon before you framed in darkness. “Ephialtes. Incubus.” It’s never a good sign when a demon has multiple names, or is significant enough to be named after the type he is. Unless– “I believe your kind presently know me as Nightmare.” –the type is named after him. 

The first incubus.

Your understanding must be written on your face. Nightmare’s grin is like a crescent moon, pale and contrasting against his otherwise dark form. “You realise, then, the situation you are in.” He pulls you towards him; his tentacles continue to slither about your form until your arms are pinned to your sides and you’re nearly pressed to his chest. You’re so close you could count the delicate silver links that make up his necklaces, or each cuff on his ribs. “Summoning me is not without consequence.” 

A demon that is summoned without the proper containment isn’t bound by any rules. They are free to wreak havoc until they’re dismissed with the proper ritual or decide to leave of their own accord. You are in no place to even begin dismissing him– even if you weren’t being held captive you aren’t trained to get rid of anything more powerful than an imp. You have no idea what a demon as powerful as Nightmare will want to do before he decides to leave.

“It has been many centuries since I have seen a human mage with mana anywhere close to half of yours, and even then… the focused intent required to summon me without the use of a circle is unheard of.” His claw finds your chin again, turning your face from side to side. “And all while not understanding the spell that you are reading. How long have you been studying?”

You can’t do the math under this kind of pressure. You flounder for a moment, trying to calculate something that normally you can just say off the top of your head. “I-I’m just an apprentice. I still have- I have to take the advanced courses. I have years to go before I’m licensed, even more while I, um…do internships for- for practical experience. This is the four- fifth summoning I’ve done.” And only the second unsupervised. You’ve ruined your perfect track record.

“Hmmm... Is anyone aware of your abilities?” 

You shake your head. 

Nightmare’s claw moves up to your cheek, lightly tracing down it. It follows the curve of your jaw before he places it above your heart. 

“Perfect. You will not speak of your magic talents with anyone but myself.” The command settles cold and heavy in your chest. A curse. “I propose a deal, mageling. I will share my knowledge of magic with you. In exchange you will be bound to me.” 

You stare at him, voice once again lost. 

“You may decline, of course.” He says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world to refuse him. As though you’re not currently at his mercy. “But you will forget this meeting and what you have learned about your magic. In addition I will seal your mana at normal levels. You will not be able to make the same mistakes again.” That doesn’t sound that bad. You’ve gotten by this far without knowing the extent of your skills. Losing something you didn’t know you had isn’t a terrible price to escape your current predicament. But… the allure of being taught magic by someone as powerful as Nightmare... 

Many mages have made deals with demons in exchange for knowledge and power. Historically, they’re the most notable ones. It’s taboo but their contributions to magic can’t be understated. You’re sure many of the other fondly-remembered historically significant mages just managed to keep their dark dealings a secret. 

You can’t believe you’re considering it.

“What would… being bound to you entail?” That’s the only caveat, you should know what you’d be getting into.

Nightmare seems pleased. His voice dips into a purr that makes your stomach flip. “You will be claimed as mine. You will never have to fear the threat of another demon– none would dare to accost someone bearing my mark. I will be able to find and come to you no matter where you are. In turn, you will be able to call for me.” You furrow your eyebrows. That sounds an awful lot like– “Yes, little bird. A bond of the soul.” 

That’s a lot. That’s a massive commitment. Not the worst thing he could ask for. But… why would he want to be bonded to you?

You’re incredulous. Curiosity and confusion momentarily overpowers your fear. “What would you get out of something like that?” 

Nightmare’s gaze is unwavering and intense, the bright cyan light in his socket keeping you transfixed. “You.” He pulls you closer. “You are far more valuable than you realise. I want to make you mine.”

He wants you as a tool. A weapon. 

But you would learn so much. You could become the most powerful mage in the world. Your potential is more than you ever conceived. Are you willing to lose that, now that you know just how far you could go? 

Are you willing to give yourself to an archdemon to achieve it?

“Your life will remain largely unchanged. You may continue your tutelage with your mentors. I will give you access to tomes and scrolls you would otherwise never obtain, and visit on occasion to teach you what cannot be learned from self-study. You will still be free to do as you wish.” His eyelight glints mischievously. “Mostly. I will require you to fulfill some tasks every now and again.” 

You bite your lip. You’re still considering it. Even after knowing the consequences. 

Forget everything or become bound to an archdemon forever. 

“The bond. How would you…” You trail off, cheeks warming somewhat. You’re not even sure how to phrase the question. You’re almost afraid to ask.

“Ah.” Nightmare traces your cheek again. You can’t help but enjoy the cool feeling of his bones on your flushed skin. You resist the urge to lean into it. “I am Incubus, little bird. That seems fairly obvious.” 

Your face erupts into a furious blush. That’s what you thought. You can’t say the thought is unpleasant. The opposite, even. You ignore the way your thighs press together the more your mind wanders down that train of thought.

“I… can I have time to think about it?” Your mind is racing. There are so many things to consider.

Your options are limited; accept or forget and have your potential limited. What are you willing to do to become more than you’ve ever thought yourself capable? Are you willing to be stifled to return to the status quo?

“This is not an offer I will make more than once. You must choose now.” Nightmare unwinds his tentacles from around you, gently setting you on the floor. They remain curled around you—you’re under no illusion of real freedom—but you’re no longer constricted. He holds out a hand to you, palm upwards, silver rings glinting in the soft light of the moon. “What is your answer?”

[gabbiecasso]

Sharing my recent journal entry about Neve Gallus and myself, so let me yap

One of the biggest reasons Neve means so much to me is because I see myself in her. I’ve always been logical and analytical, always trying to figure things out—why something works, why it doesn’t. That curiosity naturally led me to problem-solving, but it also made me intellectualize my emotions instead of just feeling them, even though I know I’m a deeply emotional person.

Neve’s struggle is not that she lacks emotions—it’s that she feels too much. She’s the kind of person who catches the smallest inconsistencies, pieces together the truth with precision, and always seems to know what’s really going on. Her logic is sharp, her deduction skills nearly unmatched. And yet, when it comes to her own emotions, she shuts them down. Not because she doesn’t understand them, but because she does. She knows that if she lets them take over, they might unravel everything she’s built—her discipline, her duty, her control. And god, do I feel the same way.

The way I see it, our logic isn’t just a tool—it’s a shield. We both intellectualize our emotions, treating them like puzzles to be solved rather than experiences to be felt. But emotions aren’t rational, and the more we try to categorize them, the more they slip through our grasp. So instead, we repress them.

But repression isn’t the same as control. Neve’s emotions don’t disappear—they linger beneath the surface, showing up in subtle ways. In the way she hesitates before making a choice that should be easy. In the way she avoids thinking about what comes next. In the way she convinces herself that as long as she keeps moving forward, she’ll be fine.

Her emotional logic is a paradox—she tries to rationalize feelings that, by nature, resist logic. And deep down, she knows she can’t keep running from them forever.

When my emotions rise and start clouding my judgment, I panic—not because I don’t understand them, but because I know myself. I know how deeply I can feel, but I don’t always know how far those feelings will take me. I think Neve is the same way. She’s confident in herself, but she doesn’t know her breaking point.

And maybe that’s why falling in love can feel so terrifying for someone deeply logical and analytical. You can study it, observe it, notice the smallest details, and even rationalize why a person makes you feel the way they do—but love isn’t something you can fully understand. It has to be felt. And for someone like Neve, who’s spent so long relying on logic, that’s exactly what makes it so daunting. She knows she has feelings for Rook, but acknowledging them isn’t the same as allowing herself to feel them. So she represses them, over and over again.

Man, human behavior and emotions have always been my favorite topics, so stumbling upon Neve’s character was such a treat. But honestly? Watching her struggle was like watching myself, LOL. Not to mention, we both share the same deep-seated need to be of service to others. The need to fulfill a duty, god. As someone who thrives on acts of service, I get it. When you want to be there for people, you start taking on everything yourself without even realizing it. Sometimes it’s so second nature that I don’t even notice I’ve gone out of my way to do something I swore I wouldn’t—like taking a route I hate just to make sure a friend gets home safe—until someone else points it out.

Learning to balance logic with emotion—understanding my feelings while also allowing myself to truly feel them—and balancing the need to be of service to others and to myself, it has been a lifelong journey.

It's exactly the reason why I draw.

I’ll remember Neve for a very long time. I don’t think I’ve ever come across a fictional character who mirrors me this well.

I don't follow zodiac signs religiously but me being a Capricorn (Sun) and Virgo (moon) is too much of a coincidence that explains my overly logical + overworked ass LOL

[theewokingdead]

Stick to the Script - Benny Miller x f!Reader

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!Reader Summary: A struggling romance writer finds herself stuck on a steamy scene—until her charming, infuriatingly gorgeous roommate, Benny, offers an unconventional solution: roleplaying. What starts as a hilarious, over-the-top reenactment quickly turns into something neither of them expected. Word Count: 1.6k Rating: Mature Content: Language, Comedy, Roommates to Lovers, Banter, Slow Burn, Teasing, Benny being goofy AF A/N: Absolutely inspired by @musings-of-a-rose’s writing tactics.

Masterlist I am one deleted paragraph away from throwing my laptop out the window.

I groan and rub my temples, glaring at the half-finished chapter on my screen. The scene isn’t working. The chemistry is flat. Here I am, a self-proclaimed romance writer, yet I can’t describe two people having sex without it sounding mechanical and awkward. Maybe I’m not cut out for this after all.

“Everything okay?”

Sighing, I push my chair back and swivel toward the door. There stands Benny, my roommate, casually leaning against the doorframe with an effortless grace he always seems to have. His tousled hair catches the light just right, and his eyes sparkle with amusement. Damn, he's gorgeous.

I manage a weak smile then offer a quick shrug. “Just battling my inner critic. You know, the usual.”

Benny steps inside, his gaze landing on the papers scattered across my desk. “Anything I can help with?”

I stiffen as he picks up one of the sheets. It’s too late to stop him now. His eyes widen as he takes in my ridiculous brainstorming method – stick figure drawings, rough and rudimentary, illustrating the erotic scene I’m trying to write.

"Are these...stick figures?" he asks, his voice quivering with suppressed laughter. He tilts the page, studying my atrocious attempt at anatomy.

“It helps me visualize!”

He snorts. “Visualize what? A very confusing game of Twister?” He holds up the page like it’s a prized trophy, and I can’t help but feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Are they…hugging? It looks like a really enthusiastic hug.”

I lunge to snatch the paper, but he jerks it out of reach. "I swear, if you don't put that down..." I warn, half-jokingly.

“Is this a penis or a third arm? Because holy hell that thing could break someone.”

I manage to snatch the paper from his hand. I stick my tongue out at him before plopping back down into my chair.

 “I think you need to rethink your approach,” Benny says, still sporting an amused grin. “Maybe consider less... stickiness?”

“It’s a romance novel, Benny,” I say dryly, shoving the paper under the others. “There’s going to be a lot of stickiness.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Fair point.”

I sigh and lean back in my chair.

Benny flops onto my bed, arms crossed behind his head like he’s about to deliver some great wisdom. “Maybe you should try something different.”

“Something different?” I eye him warily. “If you’re just going to suggest I watch porn, I’m throwing you out with my laptop. I’ve already seen more than my fair share.”

“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that last bit and say no, that's not what I was thinking. I was thinking more like…roleplaying.”

I blink. “Roleplaying? You mean act out the scene?”

“Exactly!” He sits up, suddenly animated. “Get into character, feel it out. Maybe it’ll help with the writing. I can be your very willing participant." He shoots me an exaggerated wink.

“Benny…,” I say slowly. God, the things his half-broken wink does to me. It makes me unable to think.

“Clothing stays on, obviously, and if you become too uncomfortable, we stop. I just want to help you figure out how to make things flow naturally." As if his words haven't already tugged at my heart enough, he adds, "I know how much finishing this book means to you.”

I stare at him, searching for any trace of mockery, but all I found is that annoying, irresistible confidence. The idea is absurd. And yet…my stomach flutters. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation. Maybe it's the fact I’ve been harboring feelings for Benny for months, and the thought of getting this close to him, touching him, sends my mind spiraling. Somehow, I find myself nodding.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Benny's eyebrows lift in surprise. He quickly recovers, standing up with a smirk. "Alright. Set the scene for me."

I grab my notes, cheeks burning. “Uh…They’re in her living room.”

"Perfect.” He takes my hand, his grip warm and reassuring, and guides me towards the living room. The soft glow from the streetlights outside casts shadows on the walls. My pulse quickens.

"Now what?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“They’re sitting on the couch, but he pulls her to him and they start out making out. Like… really intensely.”

Benny sinks into the couch and effortlessly pulling me onto his lap. My heart pounds. His fingers lightly trace patterns on my arm, the touch light and teasing, as if we're just two friends sharing a moment. But my skin tingles with an electric charge, my breath catching as if this simple gesture holds a deeper meaning. For me, it does.

"Okay," he murmurs, tilting his head with a slow, deliberate motion. The air thickens with the anticipation of a kiss that never comes. Benny abruptly breaks the tension with a dramatic, “Mwah, mwah, mwah.” Pretend kisses.

Laughter bursts from me. Relief and longing war in my chest.

"What else?" he asks.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. "Um... hands. A lot of hands. Touching, I mean." "Alright. Touch me then. Wherever you want, sweetheart." Fuck. Me.

I lift my hand to his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble. His jaw tightens under my touch. His hands slide over my hips with a deliberate slowness, his fingers lightly brushing against the fabric at the edge of my shirt. My breath hitches in my throat. He has no idea what he is doing to me.

“And now?” he asks, voice huskier now.

I hesitate. "He grinds against her.”

Benny smirks mischievously. "Like this?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with playful intent. He suddenly gyrates beneath me with the enthusiasm of a ridiculous TikTok dance.

I burst into laughter. “No! Not like – Oh my God! Stop it!”

“Oh, yeah, baby. Just like that,” he fake-pants. “You’re gonna make me finish in my pants before I can give you the best weinering of your life.”

I smack his chest, still laughing uncontrollably. “You’re ruining the scene!”

He stops, then gasps melodramatically. “How dare you? I am method acting!”

“Method acting? For the sake of your lovers, I pray you aren't this bad in bed."

He sits up straight, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent lover.”

"Then fucking act like it!"

“Fine. For the sake of art, I will take my role seriously.”

“Good. Because next, he pins her down.”

Benny immediately flips me onto the couch, looming over me. He makes a show of dramatically swooning over me. “Oh, fair maiden, I must ravish thee!” He starts mock-humping, making the worst over-the-top groaning sounds I’ve ever heard.

I wheeze. “Benny, I swear to God-”

“Shh,” he says, placing a finger over my lips to shush me. “Who’s Benny? I am the handsome, broody High Fae king.”

I lose it. Where the hell did he get the idea that I’m writing fantasy? Or does he just know what I’ve been reading lately? “This is a contemporary romance!”

Benny pauses. “Oh. Then I’m the morally gray kidnapper. And you can only call me Daddy.”

“Jesus Christ!” I burst into laughter again, then push him away. “That’s not what’s supposed to happen! Stick to the fucking script!”

He raises his hands defensively, the laughter still dancing in his eyes. “There isn’t a fucking script! I thought we were just winging this.”

I cross my arms, feigning frustration. “Fine. You’re right. Like you said, I need to see where things would naturally go.”

“Just tell me what to do.”

“Well, what would you do with a girl in this situation?”

Benny shrugs casually. “I’d make her beg.”

My breath hitches at his words, a rush of heat flooding my cheeks. “Beg?” I can hardly manage to keep my voice steady. “Beg, yeah. Begging’s good. Make me – her - beg.”

Benny flashes a devilish grin, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Ohhh, I can do that," he says, his voice dripping with confidence. He waggles his eyebrows playfully, and I start to wonder how on earth I found myself in this situation. He leans in, breath warm against my skin. In a deep, ridiculous voice, he purrs, "Say my name, baby."

I snort. “No.”

“Say it.” God, he sounds like a demon, and not a sexy one. He bumps his hips against mine in an exaggerated motion.

I shake my head, trying to keep a straight face. “Absolutely not.”

Benny pouts. “Then I shall hump until morale improves.”

I dissolved into laughter as he returns to his theatrical dry-humping, adding in an exaggerated “Ohhh yeah” like he’s in a bad ‘80s movie.

“Who the hell says ‘shall’?” I gasp.

“Dare you question my dramatic prowess? This is the language of the brooding Fae kings!”

“I’m going to kill you,” I say with a laugh, the words tumbling out between chuckles.

"Oooh. Enemies to lovers?" he teases. There’s a playful glint in his eyes before his movements slow, his grip on my hips tightening just slightly. He inches closer, his breath brushing softly against the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “I was hoping for roommates to lovers.”

Something shifts. The laughter fades. He’s still close, his hands firm on my hips. His smirk falters for just a second.

The air thickens. My pulse thunders. I’ve spent so long pretending I don’t feel this way, covering it with sarcasm and teasing. But right now, there’s no hiding.

Heart hammering, I grab his face and kiss him.

He freezes, eyes wide.

I smirk, though my heart races. “Do you want to keep pretending?”

His voice is low, gravelly. “Not if it means I get more of that.”

I bite my lip. “Are you serious?”

He nods slowly, a soft smile teasing the corners of his mouth. "I’ve always wanted to know what it’d be like to kiss you.”

I let out a shaky breath. “You’re not just saying that for the sake of the scene, are you?”

Benny leans in closer, his forehead almost touching mine. “Nope.”

And then he kisses me for real.

[stormeenights]

I’m alive! Yay! I really wanted to add more to this drawing(like some actual g/t interaction) but motivation ran out so this is what you’re gonna get! (I have some actual g/t + introductions in the works too)

This is Lavender, our tiny! I haven’t fully decided on her size yet but she is around 3-5 inches tall, usually very bold and isn’t afraid to stand up for her morals! This drawing of her happened to be angst so you don’t get to see her usual confident self, but I’ve had her bouncing around my brain for YEARS, so you’re going to see a lot of her!

(If anyone has any questions about my characters or art, PLEASE ask me! Every question helps me expand my characters!)

[pasteilian]

About your YOTR au, i have some questions

1- What happens when Mikey, Raph and Donnie find out what nin did? What is their reaction?

2- How would you classify the power level of your characters, from strongest to weakest?

3- what do you intend for this au? Like, are you going to write it and post it somewhere, draw it in comics, or just leave it the way it is?

SKJSHSHSJSSJ your art is so friking delicious and beautiful!!!༼˵˃̶̀ɷ˂̶́˵༽ ෆ⃛

1 - I haven’t really come up with a downfall yet but since they view Nin as a mother it would be awful Raph would be hit the most because he has come to love Nin very much—mix that with him feeling responsible for letting that type of negativity get to Leo it would be a bad downfall

2. That’s hard to scale because their powers are so uniquely different ?? Mikey is the most magically strong he beats Raph without trouble however— Raph is physically stronger with his power and if Mikey came at him with just force Raph would win—while Donnie is not magically or physically stronger than he can build machinery that rivals both of them when it comes to the weakest power that is Leo who’s power is not for fighting but for healing and purifying things so I guess Leo would be considered the weakest.

3. I’m not very good at comics, but I do sometimes put out comic lores for YOTR i’ll probably never go in depth with the AU because I just don’t feel confident in my skills to tell a story  so I’ll probably just leave it as is with what I’m doing now putting out tidbits making animatics/animation with a side of comic lore :3

[theblueprincess590]

A Dull and Ordinary Sky-An Analysis of Kingdom Hearts 3

Sora is not Special. There is nothing extraordinary or fantastic about him. He is nothing more than a dull and ordinary boy. Merely playing the role of the Prince Charming because he happened to be at the right place at the right time. If it wasn’t for his friends, wasn’t for the people he was lucky enough to meet he would be just another nameless face in the crowd. He’s no Princess of Heart with a pure light and grand cosmic destiny like Kairi nor was he chosen to inherit the keyblade and ideals of previous masters like Riku. Heck even the empty husk he left behind is more important than him. At least Roxas was the Organization's first choice, unlike Sora who wasn't just their second choice but third choice. Sora is not the hero of this story, he’s just a delivery boy. At least that's what Sora thinks. 

While Sora hides it well with his happy go lucky and friendly personality there is an undeniable lack of sense worth underlying his character. In Kingdom Hearts 1 Sora declares to the corrupted Riku he no longer needs a weapon, that his friends are his power. This scene is originally framed as victorious but in retrospect it is the first domino in an ever escalating feeling of self loathing. In Birth By Sleep Sora’s own words are echoed by his predecessor, Ventus, however there is a slight difference. In BBS Ventus says, “My friends are my power, and I’m theirs.” With just one additional line Ventus reveals to the audience the deep sheeted flaws in Sora’s ideals. Sora places all his faith in his connections yet fails to acknowledge his own strengths. In Sora’s mind it’s his friends who give him all his strength and without them he’s just worthless. A very dangerous way of thinking that is only validated in Sora’s mind by the Keyblade returning to him in KH1.     

Eventually this toxic mindset brings about Sora’s downfall when he is tested for the Mark of Mastery in Dream Drop Distance. As said by Eraqus in Birth By Sleep, the Mark of Mastery is where a keyblade weilder’s true nature is revealed, and for Sora this test reveals how deep his denial of self worth goes. Throughout his adventures in The Sleeping Worlds Sora continues to rely on the power of friendship, putting those he cares about above himself. Too busy admiring the brilliance of Riku and Mickey to even notice the ever growing darkness in his own heart. Even when it is pointed out to him time and time again by the taunting Young Xehanort. Sora is unable or unwilling to see how the pain and suffering of those within his heart is slowly smothering him.  

Sora fails the Mark of Mastery as he plays directly into Xehanort’s stained hands. This failure could have been avoided if he just placed some faith in himself, if he recognized the fact that he too gives his friends strength. Perhaps then he could have shared the burden of Roxas, Ventus, and Xion’s pain rather than be buried in it, but that's not what happened. Xigbar confronts Sora putting to words all the painful thoughts Sora has buried in the back of his mind, and instead of fighting back against those words, instead of declaring his worth, Sora validates them. Though half hearted pride he lies about not caring that he wasn’t chosen and once again declares his friends are his power. Sealing his fate as he is dragged into the darkness born from his own weakness, nearly turning into a Xehanort, and being stripped of all power. Something needs to change and Sora’s heart knows it.

In Kingdom Hearts 3 Sora’s very own heart sets him on the path not only to regain his power but to change. He is sent to mount Olypmus where he earns some of his confidence back by fighting alongside Herc to save both the realm of men and the realm of the gods. Most importantly he learns to fight with all his heart, drawing strength directly from himself, creating new powers never seen before such as air step, attraction flow rides, and formchanges. In Toy Box Sora is sent to reexamine his ideals. To see the power of friendship not as a crutch to lean on but as a power that is shared between others so they may support one another in the face of darkness. Demetrasted though the test run conflict against Young Xehanort.  Kingdom of Corona and Monstropolis both place Sora in the role of a fairy tale guardian in order to remind Sora that he is the protector and not the protected. Which he passes with flying colors by showing Rapunzel how to have fun through experiencing the joys of the outside world and by teaching Boo to be brave by laughing in the face of terror. In the Hundred Acre Woods Sora repairs bonds that have grown weak, learning that to truly cherish his bonds he must do more than simply put his faith in them, he must nurture them. Arrendelle is where Sora’s heart pushes him to endure, to see if he is truly willing to live by his ideals when the powers that be reject him. And endure Sora does, as he befriends Anna, Elsa, Kristoff, Sven, Olaff, and Marshmallow in spite of Xehanort and the world’s roadblocks. Going from dreading the snow to loving it. The Carribeans push Sora to make his biggest change going from a follower to leader. He becomes captain of his own ship and joins the Pirate War as their greatest asset. Finally culminating in San Fransokyo which mirrors the first stop in this journey of the heart, with it being Sora’s turn to act as the hero who inspires those to move forward in face of their doubt.

Through the heart’s journey Sora is reborn from a boy full of doubt playing dress up to a true man and champion. So his heart sends him where he’s needed. Sora returns to Destiny Island, the world where it all began, where he finds Master’s Defender, a special keyblade passed down through a legacy of masters. With all of Sora’s growth the keyblade acknowledges Sora sending him to save its current master, Aqua. And that Sora does as he saves Aqua from herself after becoming Anti-Aqua, finally bringing her back to light. Through the acceptance of Master’s Defender and the rescue of Aqua Sora shows to all his peers that not only has he reached the level of a Keyblade Master but has surpassed them. However Sora’s heart is not yet done. There is one more person Sora needs to save and one more secret he has to learn. Through the first bond Sora ever made, Ventus. Sora learns he had never truly lost The Power of Waking. Instead it had remained dormant in his heart. Waiting for the time when Sora would be ready, when he would understand who he truly is and what his power is meant for. When Sora’s heart saw him as a hero who uses his powers to save those in need. Sora’s heart finally accepts him as he truly becomes Prince Charming using The Power of Waking to save the one he’s spent his entire life protecting, to wake up Ven.

With all the trials and tribulations passed Sora has finally defeated his lack of self worth and become the star of his own fairy tale. Except he's not, he is still just the delivery boy, but how can that be? After all he’s accomplished, after all the lives he has saved, and after all he’s grown, how can Sora’s heart still not accept him? That's just the thing though, Sora’s heart DID accept him. The fact he got The Power of Waking back is proof of his heart’s acknowledgement. No, the only person who still looks down on Sora, who still thinks he’s not good enough, is Sora himself. The thing about self loathing no matter how much you improve, no matter how much good you do you will always see yourself as a fraud.

Sora can not accept himself because he truly does not believe he has earned his heart's acceptance. In Sora’s eyes he can only see his losses. It wasn't him who defeated the titans and saved mount Olympus but Hercules, Sora was just the towel boy. Woody was the one who called out young Xehanort and saved Buzz. All Sora did was piggy back on his words. Heck not only did Young Xehnort get the best of him earlier in the video game store, but Sora utterly failed to get the Toys back home to Andy. Sora was practically useless. He completely froze against Vanitas in Monstropolis needing both Donald and Goofy to protect him while Mike and Sully took care of the abomination. He would never have to repair his bond with Pooh if he didn’t let Xehanort almost Nort him in the first place. Worst of all in the Kingdom of Corona, Arrndelle, and the Caribbean Sora is powerless to save three of his friends as he watches the light leave their eyes. Of course none of these failures actually discount all the good Sora did in these worlds or all the people he’s helped.  And yet they are Sora’s takeaways

Even Sora’s greatest victory, the return of Ventus through The Power of Waking, a symbol of his ascension to Prince Charming status, is not truly his own in his eyes. When Ventus tries to thank Sora for everything and offers him a handshake Sora hesitates. As if he is unsure if he has the right to accept Ven’s thanks. Because deep down Sora does not believe himself to be worthy. Sora attributes this victory not to himself but Ventus believing The Power of Waking only worked because of Ventus' help. And It’s no wonder Sora would come to think this lie. Not just because of his lack of self worth but because out of all his friends Ventus is the one Sora puts on the highest pedestal, believing the light hearted boy to be the entire reason Sora is even a part of this story.

So when Sora enters the Keyblade graveyard with his very soul blind to the truth his heart is screaming at him he brings about the downfall of the Guardians of Light. In the battle against the thirteenth member, TerraNort, Sora fails to even strike the man with his doubt holding him back. Sora leaves it to his friends to pick up the slack only for them to end up severely weakened allowing the darkness to pick them off one by one. Thanks to Sora’s weakness, light expires and darkness prevails. 

Perhaps this loss was for the best though. It is only when Sora is stripped of everything that he is at last forced to reveal his secret. Bringing to words every horrible thought of himself he’s kept hidden. He truly thinks of himself as worthless without his friends. And of course the one who understands Sora the best informs him of what his heart has been trying to tell him this whole time. Sora isn’t worthless, he gives his friends just as much strength as they give him, and the hero of this story is no one else but Sora. Riku tells Sora the words he’s needed to hear this whole time. Inspiring Sora to finally be the savior his friends see him as.

The Final Worlds is a place made of sky and sea where fallen hearts that are still connected to the worlds of the living remain until they either return to Kingdom Hearts or fade away. It is a world of death but for Sora is the place of his rebirth. In The Final World Sora by his own hands put himself back together, collecting the scattered pieces of his body, heart, mind, and soul to become a whole once again. Which Sora does not only by using all of his movement abilities, a manifestation of his body's power, but by exerting his will over the world itself to manipulate its shape, becoming King of the Sky. Sora restores his very sense of self both literally and figuratively as the shackles of self loathing begin to loosen on his heart.  

To finally free himself of these shackles Sora must save his friends in the only way he can. Sora must perform a miracle. Sora does what no one has done before, he defeats death itself. Sora takes the Power of Waking, proof of his mastery over the keyblade, and uses it to wake his friend’s heart not from any old kind of sleep but the final sleep. Using The Power of Waking in such an orthodox way Sora travels to his friend's heart through the worlds themselves waking them up from death and in the process defeating the most ancient of heartless, The Lich. Through Sora’s victory over death he completes not only his rebirth but archives true actualization shown through his claim of the Spell Aeroga, the ultimate spell of his element the sky, and the rewrite of his own story. Changing his and The Guardians' predetermined destiny of failure. A truly beautiful achievement which could only be accomplished by one who bucks the normal conventions of society in favor of following his heart’s own rhythm. 

The Second Keyblade war begins anew as Sora’s new found confidence is put to the test with him leading The Seven Guardians of Light against The Thirteen Seekers of Darkness. Earning their trust as he undoes his first loss in this journey by defeating the returning Demon Tide and gaining the blessing of those who fought in the previous Keyblade War through his willingness to face the Ultimate Heartless without hesitation.  

That last act in particular is exemplary of Sora’s character. By following his heart and doing what was right Sora earned the faith of countless strangers who wished to share their strength with him for no reason other than they believed in him. Sora has always received powers from others, believing at first it was because he lacked strength of his own, but by receiving the Lights of the Past he sees the exact opposite is true. It is Sora’s own strength which pulls others towards him and combines their powers into something wonderful.

  Ultimately Sora is the one who leads The Seven Guardians of Light to the war’s end. Paying his friends back for all the times they’ve saved him by rescuing them in their time of need either by helping them grasp victory from the jaws of defeat like with Riku and Mickey or by granting them reunion like with the SeaSalt Trio and wayFinder Trio. It is even through Sora’s new found belief in himself that he is capable of beating the other Xehanorts, overcoming those who were consumed by ego and earning the respect of the ones that lost their way. Finally bringing Sora face to face with Master Xehanort, representing the worst possible extreme of what Sora could become. 

Xehanort has had from the very beginning complete and total unwavering belief in himself but by walking on the road of darkness and isolation this faith turned to egomania. Xehanort refused to trust his heart in others, slowly but surely becoming consumed by his own ignorance until he believed he alone could fix the world. Xehanort sought to surround himself with copies of himself, never looking beyond his own reflection even as it fractured with every act of self indulgent pride. Though the reasons why were different, Xehanort had lost his sense of self just like Sora believing in a lie rather than his own heart. Perhaps because he stopped listening to his own heart it was left up to Sora to fulfill its true wishe. In the final battle of the Second Keyblade War Xehanort's bloated ego clashes with Sora’s super ego who through a refined understanding of the power of friendship and a new sense of self worth conquers the final Seeker of Darkness at his most powerful, overcoming the X-Blade with the physical manifestation of The Half-Pint Trio’s shared ideals, Trinity.

Ultimately Sora is given the final reward of his true arc, Not the X-Blade but the trust of Master Xehanort as he is named the old goat’s true successor through the exchanging of their ideals. Through the bequeathing of the X-Blade by Master Xehanort made Sora a true keyblade wielder.  

However, Sora’s story does not end there. Though he has passed every test handed to him, earned the faith of both friends and enemies alike, changed history, and achieved feats greater than any other keyblade wielder, Sora has yet to truly act for himself. Everything Sora has done in all his adventures was for the sake of others. Now that Sora knows his self worth he must do something in the name of his own wants and needs. He uses The Power of Waking one last time sacrificing both his existence and power to save Kairi and spend his last days with her. Though Sora has always acted in the best interest of others it would be a mistake to assume this journey began with selfless intentions. No Sora’s journey began with the selfish desire to save the women he loves and be her knight in shining armor. Sora’s journey began with him looking for Kairi and it ends with him finally finding her as he travels through the hearts of his friends to find her, helping them all out one last time as he bests their inner darkness.

Sora began this story as a dull and ordinary boy. He never really stopped being one, but that's okay because as long as you believe in yourself even the most ordinary of people can become heroes.   

[ratwithastylus]

A little illustration of an NPC from the Zelda-themed campaign I’m planning 🦅

His name is Reyli and he’s (quite obviously) a Rito; very sweet yet confident little guy who likes to pretend that he doesn’t have a soft and quiet side :)

I’m pretty new to drawing anthropomorphic characters; it’s been fun to learn so far!

[greenfiend]

I don’t know if you’ve already answered this but I was wondering how you think Will’s dark past with Lonnie will be revealed to the audience in season 5 as well as to other characters? I think your theory about Will’s past with Lonnie is correct but I know it’s definitely a heavy topic that needs to be addressed appropriately to work. So I guess I’m also asking how do you think the show will appropriately address Will’s trauma and the healing process he’ll have to go through.

GREAT question anon!

I think the reveal will come down to uncovering Will’s message to Mike in the very first episode.

“It was a seven. The Demogorgon, it got me.”

We have several instances of the characters discussing codes and hidden messages and meanings… and it all comes back to that single line.

Mike knows the code but has yet to understand the meaning behind it. I think some metaphorical time travel will be necessary for him to learn the full truth. I mean, we already know that a younger Mike, Will, and Jonathan will make an appearance next season…

I believe the “7” is related to 7 years ago from 1983. This would be 1976 when Will and Mike were both 5 years old. Something very significant happened that year that changed Will’s life forever (not in a good way).

The show has been addressing Will’s trauma this whole time (I believe) through the supernatural and through subtle hidden subtext. I think the memories/trauma of other characters will begin to connect. Like how Will’s drawings of the tunnels connect in ST2, or Max’s drawings of the Creel house connect in ST4. It’s like a puzzle!

So far most of us have been led astray to believe this supernatural being is responsible for all the destruction… but he’s not! It was an ordinary mediocre man this whole time. Lonnie Byers. Vecna only exists due to the pain and suffering this ordinary man has caused,

Do I think Lonnie will return and will be fought? Ehh, not exactly. I think his essence will return, the memories of him will return… and that’s enough. It won’t be about defeating him, it’ll be more so about healing from him. He isn’t important, but the impact he made on Will is important.

Sooo how will things go down? Well, I do think we will see Will going through A LOT. He will be haunted by this past more than ever and won’t fully understand why… because his memories have been repressed. El, Vecna (and others) hold his memories. The most traumatic ones at least. Will needs to access these memories, this is key! Will may need to “combine” or rather “fuse” with El and Vecna in order to unlock the full truth of the past.

The library will be an important location because it’s an archive and holds truths of the past.

Mike will uncover the code, without a doubt. He’s far smarter than most give him credit for. Sure he can be oblivious at time, but he will be the one uncovering the truth… since he’s the only one who has it! He's "had it this whole time". He was the only one Will trusted enough to fully confide in, even if it was in code.

In terms of Will’s healing, I’m guessing we will also likely see Will meet with Ms. Kelley on several occasions, and hints of the truth will slowly come out. After learning the full truth, Will must learn two important facts:

What happened to him was never his fault. He "didn't deserve anything" that had happened to him.

He has “free will” and can break the cycle of a*use. He feels like he will inevitably become the monster, but that's just not true!

The monsters being fought will be internal monsters that have plagued Will since he was very young.

Will will be given strength by his support system and through finally learning to love and believe in himself.

[brairslair]

FEEL BETTER? ˗ˏˋ P.B.P ´ˎ˗

“all you have to do is ask”

confident!peter parker x shy!gf!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.0k

REQUESTED: no requests are open! fandoms: marvel, stranger things, harry potter (any era), scream

WARNINGS: fem reader, shit writing, established relationship, peter and reader are implied to be in college/uni, SMUT (18+), very little plot tbh, heavy praise kink, softdom!peter vibes, fingering (f!rec), very light nipple play, SUPER slight dacryphilia if u squint, peter is talkative, not proofread and written instead of sleeping, lmk if i missed smth!

A/N: is it 8am? yeah. did i just spend the last two hours writing this mess? also yeah. enjoy!

ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE 18+ remember to like, comment, and reblog to support my writing!

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Six hours. That’s how long it’s been since you showed up at Peter’s front door. Six hours spent right next to him, talking to him, touching him, and yet you still find yourself longing for more. Even now as you sit between his legs, back to his chest, his hands kindly twisting at your hair, your thoughts have you squirming in your seat.

The two of you had set up this study date a few days back, anticipating the opportunity to spend time together (without sacrificing your grades). Unfortunately, you were having a hard time focusing on schoolwork.

No matter how much you tried to focus on your paper, you couldn’t stop your mind, and your eyes, from wandering. You caught yourself staring at how pretty his hands looked as he hurriedly wrote down equations, admiring how cute he looked sitting crisscross in his plaid pajama pants and science pun t-shirt, how his voice sounded just slightly deeper when he was concentrating, or how soft his lips look right now. You actually thought you were going to lose it when the praise “Good job, babe. This looks perfect!” fell casually from his lips while reading your completed assignment, sealing it with a kiss to your temple.

You felt like you were going insane, but the thing is, so was Peter. You hadn’t seen each other for nearly three weeks prior to this study date, outside of passing in the halls or a quick call before bed. Between you trying to prepare for a major presentation coming up and Peter’s multitude of responsibilities, neither of you had much energy, let alone time, left to spend on anything else.

Of course, you love everything about Peter, unconditionally. That includes his web-slinging alter ego. However, it can get a little frustrating having to go weeks on end without being able to hold a conversation with him. Especially when all people talk about is the amazing spider-man, listening to girls fawn over your boyfriend for hours a day, and feeling just as fangirl-ish. You found yourself daydreaming about him to pass the time, acting like a schoolgirl with a hopeless crush.

Seeing him again after so long with so little contact is like a wake up call for your senses. You'd been so buried in your studies that you didn’t even realize just how much you missed him until you knocked on his front door.

- “Are you okay?”

Your thoughts dissolve as Peter draws your attention back to the present. When you snap back to reality, you’re immediately reminded of what caused the spiral of daydreams to begin with. You can feel the warmth of his body behind yours, the contour of his toned chest pressing against your back. You feel your whole body heat up.

“Mhm, I’m great!” you squeak out, internally wincing at the shakiness in your voice. Your usually bright and vibrant tone is completely gone, replaced with something resembling more of a whisper than anything else.

Safe to say, Peter isn’t buying it.

His best guess is that you’re upset about something that happened today. Maybe stressed about the presentation you have coming up. He knows it sometimes takes you a while to open up, so for now, he decides to let it go. In an attempt to settle your mind, he slides a hand down your arm to lace his fingers through yours.

Unfortunately, it does the exact opposite. The innocent action leaves a trail of goosebumps behind and makes your breathing pattern pick up ever so slightly. You can only hope that Peter doesn't notice.

He does.

“Are you cold?”

You shake your head, taking deep breaths to steady yourself. “No, I’m alright.” Loosely translated, means I actually feel like I’m burning from the inside out.

“Do you not like the movie? We can change it if you want to watch something else.” he offers sweetly, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. “You’ve been all spacey for the past half an hour.”

Your breath hitches, feeling like you’ve been caught red handed. Of course he would notice. He may be a little oblivious sometimes, but when it comes down to it, Peter knows you better than you know yourself.

“The movie’s fine.” You struggle a bit to formulate a response, feeling your whole body heat up like a furnace. To evade the silence, you stutter out a weak, “I was just… thinking?”

You immediately want to light yourself on fire, deciding the silence would have been better.

“Thinking about what?” he asks. Not prying, just curious. “Must be something pretty important. Your heart is beating a mile a minute.” He softly laughs at his own words, causing you to shrink into yourself. He’s not laughing at you, but it definitely feels that way.

You fidget with Peter’s fingers in your palm, eyes locking on the movie as nerves wrack through your body. “It’s nothing.” You speak so quietly, he’s thankful for his enhanced hearing.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” you can practically hear the concerned furrow in his brow as he brings your still interlaced hands to his lips, leaving feather-light kisses to each knuckle. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

His patient and caring nature never fails to make you fall more and more in love with him, if that’s even possible.

Then, as if you weren’t enough of a mess, what really does it is when Peter leaves the faintest kiss to the base of your neck. A gesture meant to signal patience and understanding towards your “anxiety” only causes your thighs to squeeze together against your will, and before you can think enough to stop it, an airy, barely audible whine escapes the back of your throat, so soft it could pass as a sigh to the average ear.

Nothing about Peter is average.

He stills against your skin, causing your eyes snap open in horror as the realization hits you. Manicured hands immediately cover your face to shield you from the embarrassment.

They don’t stay long as Peter wastes no time in reaching up to gently pry your hands away. You feel like you could burst into tears at any moment from the sheer shame and frustration.

“Hey, hey-”, he holds both hands gently, rubbing sweet circles to soothe you, “No need to be embarrassed. You can talk to me.”

You don’t move your gaze from your lap.

“Come on, beautiful. Look at me.” He asks so gently that you comply before you can even think otherwise. His eyes are soft and kind, looking at you with all the love in the world. He makes you feel safe.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about? Hm?”

You blink up at him owlishly, feeling like there would be a question mark floating over your head if you looked up.

“That’s why you were all spacey? You were thinking about me…” he leans his head down, lips grazing your collarbone, “kissing you?”

Your breath catches.

"Or, maybe..." your eyes are glued as he moves his hand from your hold, delicately trailing it down your stomach, past your hip, and slowly down to the inside of your thigh. So close to where you’ve needed him for the past three weeks. “-you were thinking about me touching you?”

Your heart rate picks up by a tenfold, and Peter can hear it hammering in your chest.

Waiting for a response, he’s met with nothing but your heavy breathing. He carefully digs his fingertips into the doughy flesh of your thigh. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to touch you?”

Another airy whimper tumbles from your lips, reluctantly nodding in response to his questions, needing him too badly to care about the shame you feel at your neediness.

Peter smiles, rewarding your response by trailing his sweet kisses up your neck, taking his time to feel you shiver under his touch. His warm lips finally reach the shell of your ear.

“All you have to do is ask.”

He resumes his attack on your neck, now bolder in his movements as he licks and bites and sucks at your skin, trying to find the spot that makes your eyes flutter shut.

Caught up in the feeling of his warm mouth against your skin, you don’t even notice as he hooks your ankles over his, slowly spreading your legs wider and wider, until your skirt rides up your legs.

Peter smiles against your skin when a shaky sigh reaches his ears, your hips bucking up in sync. He’s found it. Peter focuses all of his attention on that spot, nipping and sucking at it until you’re sure he’s going to leave a mark. The hand on your thigh squeezes gently every time you move your hips, and you have to chew on your lip to stop the mortifyingly desperate sounds from spilling out.

“Is this what you had in mind, baby?” the words rumble against your skin, sending a chill down your spine, “Is this what you needed?”

Your hips buck again at that, pouting with the hope that he takes the hint. You feel your body melt into him when his tongue darts out to soothe the fresh mark he’s left on your neck.

Of course, he does get the hint, but there’s no way he’s letting you off the hook that easily.

He inches his hand higher and higher up your thigh, slipping underneath the pretty little skirt he had bought for you as a gift a few months ago. You tense in anticipation.

“What is it?” amusement evident in his tone as he asks you. He loves that he gets to be the one that makes you this needy. “Come on, baby. Tell me.”

You almost sob in frustration, not wanting to say it out loud, but the ache between your legs is becoming unbearable.

His hand barely brushes against your panties, making your chest tighten as you suppress the urge to grind into it.

“Tell me what you need me to do.”

You can’t handle it any longer.

“Please!” You all-but shout, free hand grabbing at his arm, “Please touch me, Pete!” You cry out, already sounding wrecked and he hadn’t even really done anything yet.

Peter beams at how vocal he had gotten you, leaning his head further down to meet your lips for the first time since you got here all those hours ago. It felt like drinking water after being stranded in a desert for days. You missed the way his lips felt. The way they tasted. You crave more.

Then, he mutters two words against your lips that manage to make your hazy brain short circuit.

“Good girl.”

Your groans are pathetic, being swallowed by Peter’s tongue as he rocks his palm against you through your pretty pink panties.

He can’t help but laugh a little, giddy at the sounds spilling out of you at even the lightest touch of his hand.

“Is that better?” he asks, breaking away for air. “This what you've been daydreamin' about?” He already knows what you really want, he always does, but he wants to hear you say it one more time. Just one more confirmation and he’ll give you anything you need.

Now that your mind is so clouded with pleasure, you don’t give it a second thought. “More-” you can’t barely get out a sentence between mewls, “Please, Peter, I need more-”

Before you can say another word, he’s pushing your underwear aside. Your head falls limp against Peter’s shoulder as he gathers your slick, dragging it up to finally circle your puffy clit.

Without his mouth to drown them out, your moans flow freely from you, drowning out the long-forgotten movie playing in the distance. Peter goes back to kissing your neck, deciding to mark every area of your skin that he can reach.

“I’m sorry, baby.” he soothes, nipping at the skin right under your jaw, his own heartbeat jumping at every noise he pulls from you, “Bet you’ve been achey all day, huh?”

You nod your head, barely registering his words as pleasure rolls through your body.

He lets out an almost mocking “Aww, honey…” as you buck your hips against his fingers, “Been so patient for me, huh? Waiting all day for me to make you feel good?”

“Mhm” mixed with your pants, words tumble from your mouth without a single thought to how eager you sound, “Feels so- ohhh… sososo good-”

All you can think about is the way Peters rough fingertips feel absolutely euphoric as he swirls and flicks at your clit, and how his lips sear every inch of your skin, and how his scent and his warmth consumes and takes over every thought floating around in your blissed-out head.

“You sound so pretty-” he peppers hot kisses across your shoulder, “Making so many pretty sounds…”

Peter bends his legs a little, which in turn, bends yours. The move spreads you out just a little bit more, but its enough to send little shockwaves of pleasure through you, making you jolt and gasp at the feeling.

Peter loves the way you look when you get like this. Skin sticky with heat, eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open in bliss. He thinks you looks like a goddess.

Your moans start to sound more and more like a plea, hips grinding against Peter’s fingers subconsciously as you feel the heat slowly taking over. You need more.

“Peter, pleaseee-“

“Shh, It’s okay.” his fingers glide down to your entrance, coating themselves with slick, “I’ve got you, pretty girl.”

Your eyes practically roll into your skull as he slips two fingers inside of you with ease. The stretch feels incredible, and you can’t help but squeeze the hand that's still holding yours, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Oh my god-“

Peter kisses back up until he reaches your lips again, grinning as you can barely reciprocate. The gentle nature of his kiss makes your head spin and your core clench around his fingers.

“Doing so good for me, sweetheart.”

You feel your lashes begin to collect tears at the overwhelming feeling pulsing through you. This has been building up for weeks.

“Always so good for me.”

Achey little noises spill from your lips onto Peter’s, breathing labored and heaving as the only thought filling your head is Peter Peter Peter.

Then suddenly your mind goes completely blank, gasping back a choked moan as your body goes limp, jaw slacking against Peter’s deep kisses. Your whole body feels like it's buzzing with electricity, and your head feels static in the most amazing way.

Peter pulls back for a moment to watch your face scrunch up in ecstasy, as he rubs against your spot over and over and over again. “There she is.” he coos, admittedly a little proud of himself, and you’re too fucked out to pick up on the mocking tone. He watches in awe as you start to fall apart.

“Takin’ my fingers so well, baby.”

You start to clench tighter around him, using your free hand to grip his wrist like a vice. Peter goes back to kissing your open mouth, sucking and nipping at your bottom lip as you pulse and twitch under his touch.

Panting turns back into whimpers which turns into tears as Peter massages your walls just right, hitting all the right places and stretching you out sooo perfectly.

You can feel pressure building up rapidly in your stomach, back arching up as your body starts to shake from the intensity. Peter shifts so he can watch the way your hips chase his fingers and your chest heaves for air.

“You’re so close, sweetheart. You can do it.” he praises, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge, “Almost there-“

The knot keeps winding tighter and tighter, and whiny begs and pleads start to pour out of you. Lots of “Oh my god, Pete“ or “Please” and “So good-“

Hand over yours, Peter glides your intertwined hands up your body and over your arched ribcage. He slides your hands under your his t-shirt, using his thumb to push your smaller one back and forth over your peak, a long chant of mumbled Peter’s tumble from your kiss-bitten lips.

“I know, baby, I know.” he consoles you, copying the pouty tone of your voice, “Just feels too good, huh?”

You nod your head frantically, still not catching onto the the tease, only caring about chasing your release.

He presses his lips to your ear, “Waited so long for this, honey. You deserve to feel good.”

He pumps his fingers a little bit faster.

“Gonna make you feel so good-“

You start to grind your hips up again, gasping when his palm rubs against your clit with each thrust.

“Pete-” the knot is getting tighter, “Oh my god, Peter- I’m…“ and tighter, “I’m gonna-”

“Let go for me, babe.”

Thats all you needed for your vision to go white hot, mouth falling open with a silent scream as stars dance behind your eyelids.

“There ya go”

“Just like that, pretty girl”

“Let it all out, baby”

He peppers kisses on your burning skin and slows his movements as he works you through your high. As you come down from it, your body goes limp on top of him, a lazy smile stretching on your lips. Peter can’t help but smile too, chest swelling in satisfaction that he was the one who put that smile on your face.

You wince a little as he slowly pulls his fingers from your core, eyes following as he brings them up to his lips to clean them off.

“Feel better?” this time you can definitely hear the cockiness in his tone, smacking him weakly on the arm. “Shut up.”

You turn around just enough to kiss him. This time, it’s slow, and careful, and loving, and you have to pull away and bury your face in his chest to hide the lovesick look in your eyes. Both of you burst out giggling, and Peter can't stop himself from wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you as close as possible. He’s missed you more than you could possibly ever know.

As relaxation coats you like a warm, fuzzy blanket, you shift your weight to get comfortable.

“Ah, don’t-“

Peter squeezes his eyes shut, hissing at the sudden pressure and gripping your hips to keep you still. “Can't do that...”

Now it’s his turn to get flustered.

His face goes beet red as you jump up in confusion. When you look down, you notice a painful looking bulge in his jeans. Your stomach twists with the knowledge that you did that to him.

You weren’t the only one who’s been touch deprived.

“Oh! Sorry…” you giggle a little at the accidental stimulation, looking back up at Peter with a playful smile of your own. “Your turn!”

______________________________________________________________

part 2??