April fools to me, the ultimate fool who got an idea late at night and actually stayed up to draw it.
Zoe belongs to @orange-plum and her comic Satan and Me (highly recommend it, can be found @thisiskindagross ) Zoe is a side character that maybe appears 4 times but like why not devote brain space to this very tiny demon lady
finally got around to drawing another oc sksdjskf anyways here’s diomedes! he has a cool british accent, is bi in two different categories, and is generally a jackass
YOU WILL BECOME A MEMBER OF THE C̷̦̃̔̓̓̔̊̄͑̈́̅͐̔̿̚̕L̴͉̦͍͈̫̞̭̘̀̽̌̔͋̕U̶̢̢͓͋S̷̢̨͚̳͖̠̺̥̔̇̋̈́͒͐ͅT̸̨̧̼̦̯̥͉̠̲͕͑̐́͜Ḛ̷̛̞̯̩̮͍̣͚̳̙͊̒̅̎͋͑̑͆̎̄R̵̢̗͕̫̬̳̺̭̳͆͛̚̚͜͠ͅ BEFORE YOU KNOW IT …
Whumpee was sent stumbling back as they were shoved against the wall. Once their back hit the wall they slowly slid down it, sitting on the cold stone floor, hugging their knees tight to their chest with a sob.
Dried blood and new cuts littered their body. Everything hurt. They couldnt move. They wanted to curl in on themself and just hide there forever. That’s when the tears fell. Their chest heaved as they sobbed. They couldn’t take any more. They seriously couldnt.
“You’re fucking pathetic,” Whumper spat before leaving, slamming the door behind them, only making Whumpee flinch and sob more.
Whumpee was sent stumbling back as they were shoved against the wall. Once their back hit the wall they slowly slid down it, sitting on the cold stone floor, hugging their knees tight to their chest with a sob.
Dried blood and new cuts littered their body. Everything hurt. They couldnt move. They wanted to curl in on themself and just hide there forever. That’s when the tears fell. Their chest heaved as they sobbed. They couldn’t take any more. They seriously couldnt.
“You’re fucking pathetic,” Whumper spat before leaving, slamming the door behind them, only making Whumpee flinch and sob more.
Whumper cuddling Whumpee after hours of pain, whispering how they did so well for whumper while Whumper runs their fingers through Whumpee’s hair, smiling as Whumpee means into all the soft touches.
Whumper adjusted the ropes, smiling as they took a step back, admiring the view infront of them.
“Just beautiful,” They smirked.
A whimper escaped Whumpee’s lips as they spoke, voice hoarse, “P-please… N-no m’re… I ca-cant.. P-please…”
Whumper couldn’t help but chuckle, carding their hand through Whumpee’s hair, “My my Whumpee, how the mighty has fallen.”
Whumpee leaned into the touch, whimpering slightly at Whumper’s words. “St- stop… le-leave me alone…”
Whumper simply hummed in response, “Is that an order?”
Whumpee froze, realizing their mistake, “NONO w-wait ’m s-sorry…. p-please,, please Whumper I-I didn’t mean to!”
Whumper chuckled, “My god, you’re pathetic,” Whumper spat with a grin, their eyes greedily studying Whumpee.
Whumpee couldn’t read Whumper’s mood and they hatedit.
Whumper took a step towards Whumpee, carding a hand through their hair, chuckling as Whumpee doesn’t flinch. “So good for me, dear. Still and compliant. Just how you should be.”
Whumpee paled but kept a straight face, struggling to get their breathing steady, “Y-yes, Whumper.”
Whumper smirked, walking behind Whumpee, retrieving a whip, and slams it hard against the floor, soaking in how Whumpee flinched.
“Good. Now state your rules, Whumpee, from number one.”
“What’s wrong little one?” Whumper purred, roughly grabbing Whumpee’s jaw, digging their fingers into Whumpee’s skin, making them wince slightly.”Y-you,” Whumpee spat through gritted teeth.
Whumper’s chuckle was low and dark, their eyes not leaving Whumpee’s, making them cringe back slightly. “Oh you’re cute. You know, you can keep up that silly little defiant act of yours, it’s cute!” Whumpee’s eyebrows furrowed, looking at Whumper in disgust, “Y-you’re fucking sick.”
Whumper ignored Whumpee, tilting their head, “Do you know why I love the defiant ones so much?” WHumpee didn’t answer so Whumper slowly tucked a short lock of Whumpee’s hair behind their ear, leaning in close and whispering quietly, their breath ghosting along Whumpee’s ear, raising goosebumps, “Because I love watching them break”
Whumpee’s eyes immedietly filled with tears, pressing against the wall as much as they could.
“So defiant, spitting out curses and acting all tough. But then in a matter of time, you’ll be a crying mess infront of me. And i cannot wait to watch you unfold right infront of me.”
The signifier of a battle well-fought and survived (despite the odds) is a bandaid across the nose
whether the wearer is 19 or
or forty-seven or
just generally
cute.
Law,
despite having a bear, just might not be cute enough for a bandaid across his
nose.
OR those plasters on Law’s face are Bepo-sized, and Bepo
tried, oh yes he tried, to put one on the bridge of Law’s nose, but Captain’s such a spoilsport, and wouldn’t let him (furthermore, considering the size of the plasters, they might’ve asphyxiated him if placed across the proboscis).
***
As an aside, can you imagine Daichi, the One Piece version of the Johnson & Johnson rep (or whoever’s most famous for Band-Aids in your country), trailing Luffy from island to island, battle to battle, war to war, trusty selection of bandaids at hand, because wherever the Straw Hats are there’s a need for cute plasters,. (Ace and Yamato were pre- these shenanigans), so, in general, like the News Coo and the bounty hunters, the bandaid sales rep has untapped, whole-universe potential).
aloe, elfroot, and the flood. 2k words, pre-relationship zevran x mahariel
The Western forests of Ferelden were not like the forests he’d grown up with. Comprised of grassy lowlands parceled out by shemlen nobles, the Bannorn was opposite the Brecilian in every sense.
Which was how he’d wound up here: miserably lost, resting on a fallen log while his feet ached. He’d been walking for hours.
There’d been a time, growing up, when these restless moods would take hold of him. He’d come to recognize their arrival by the pressure in his chest and the urge to cry at nothing. These moods needed to be quickly subdued or they’d stick like burrs—so he would run.
He would leave the safety of camp and flee into the woods, and keep going until the feeling passed. And it worked, most of the time.
Ah, but they’d never lasted so long before, had they? And Tamlen had always been there to catch up with him. To walk back together.
Hello folks! I recently hit 500 followers here and I was thinking about what I could do to celebrate! so…
Send me a character and an expression prompt from this list
I’m wanting to practice expressions! Give me any character and I will attempt it. Down below are a few fandom examples that I will draw from as loose suggestions:
Any Pedro character
The Mandalorian
Our Flag Means Death
Peacemaker
other Star Wars
Anything else is cool with me, though. I want to throw myself in the deep end with this. I’ll try and do as many as I can over the next couple of weeks! (If I don’t do yours pls don’t be sad)
Thanks for sticking around and supporting me <3 love yous
Enjolras had left the barricade half an hour ago—more or less, time seemed to move differently between these walls, Combeferre thought.
He’d slipped out quietly after whispering to him and Courfeyrac that he intended to survey the area, assess the present situation. He had promised to return within half an hour. “Be careful,” Combeferre had murmured, but Enjolras had already disappeared, catlike, into the shadows.
Thinking about Enjolras, how he could be captured or shot and them never even knowing left an anxious pang in his chest, so Combeferre returned to tending to the wounded. There were no very serious injuries, and the wounded men were adamant about being well enough for the next fight.
“I would not miss it for the world,” a young Southerner insisted, gritting his teeth from the pain. “This will be a history-making battle, the whole of the city is alight. By this time tomorrow we shall have a Republic and I will not miss my chance to be a part of it by sitting around in here.”
Combeferre could not help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Then at least rest for now, the bleeding is not heavy but you may aggravate it if you move too much. There’s still time before the next fight.”
The boy conceded this, and Combeferre left the wine-shop to ask Joly for more bandages. The sky was lightening. It was difficult not to share in their high spirits; the situation was hopeful. The fortification was good, they had ammunition. Above all, the bell of Saint-Merry rang out, reminding them that they were not alone.
As he passed the rue Mondétour, a figure appeared from the darkness, and he started.
A glimpse of blond hair, and the figure gestured for him to come closer—it was Enjolras, evidently back from his reconnaissance. Combeferre ran into the rue Mondétour, and Enjolras pulled him back into the shadows. He was uninjured, he noted with relief.
“Well? What news?“ Combeferre said, wiping his hands on his apron. "The men are in high spirits, the Saint-Merry tocsin has not ceased for a moment. They are saying by sunset it will be a revolution. And by daybreak tomorrow—” he broke off, but could not repress a small smile. “But first tell me what you’ve seen.”
Enjolras held his gaze steadily for a moment, then lowered his eyes. He shook his head.
Combeferre’s smile faded.
“A full third of the army is headed in this direction. They are bringing cannons.”
Combeferre began to feel the heavy weight of dread sinking in his chest. But there were other barricades remaining, surely.
“And the National Guard,” Enjolras added.
This was a blow. “They will not join us?”
“No.” Enjolras raised his eyes in meditation. “We have, perhaps, an hour before the attack, by my estimation.”
“But the faubourg,” Combeferre said, grasping.
“—is silent. Windows and doors shuttered. Nothing.” He exhaled, and Combeferre heard the smallest quaver in his breath. “There is no one coming. By daybreak tomorrow we will be dead.”
Combeferre found it necessary to lean against the wall for support. His head felt light, and a terrible numbness began to spread throughout his body. He turned to look past the intersection where the insurgents were engaged in preparation for the coming fight. The light of the torches and the joyful chatter of the men lent the scene almost the air of a street carnival, and he shuddered to picture the horrors that would befall them in such a short time.
“I will need to tell them,” Enjolras said softly. “I—”
Combeferre turned to look at him again, and for a moment Enjolras seemed to falter under the weight of the grief and exhaustion.
To know their fate, and then to deliver that fatal blow to hope. It was an unspeakable burden. “You are the bravest man I will ever know,” Combeferre finished for him. He took his hands. “What you have done—you could not ask more from any man.” He pulled him into an embrace, and Enjolras lay his head against his shoulder wearily.
“In the rue du Cygne I saw a window with a light in it on the fifth floor,” Enjolras murmured. “It was an old woman with a candle. I thought to myself, she may have spent the night in waiting.”
It struck Combeferre peculiarly that this was something that Enjolras had noticed, that was not something Enjolras would have noticed years before.
He drew him close and pressed their foreheads together. A lifetime of dreams had passed through them. There was a certain finality to this gesture, as he knew he would likely not have another chance to speak to Enjolras in confidence before the end came. For the last time he traced the features he knew so intimately with his thumb: the line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the softness of his cheek. Enjolras clung to him tightly, as though he feared falling.
“It will come,” Combeferre said, his voice tight, but it was a promise.
“Yes,” Enjolras breathed. He pulled away, and drew himself upright once more.
The sky was now painted with broad swaths of color, fresh and resplendent. Their last sunrise, Combeferre thought. Yet there would be many more sunrises.
He turned, and was surprised to see Enjolras also gazing upwards. “It is beautiful,” he commented, but Combeferre knew he was not seeing the sky.
Enjolras stepped back towards the barricade, but Combeferre grabbed his wrist. One moment more, he pleaded.
“You know I would not be parted from you,” he said, “in life or in death.”
Enjolras smiled. “Yes,” he said. He stopped, then closed his eyes, as though readying himself.
They walked back into the rue de la Chanvrerie, towards the abyss, towards the dawn.
an artist on twt set out a challenge to draw the dsmp members as gods; here’s shapeshifter q, god of deception and chance, who carries his wheel of “fortune” on golden wings
After Steve saves Eddie, things are never quite the same between them. Unsatisfied with the two of them drifting apart, Dustin and Robin find ways to push them back into each other’s life.
Notes: This has sat in my WIPs for weeks until I had the inspiration to finish but I’m really happy with how this turned out! I usually love a good dom!Marc but sometimes a little subby is what a man needs! Plus switching is more fun lol!
“Hey Marc…” you greeted into the home you shared with him as you walked in.
You froze, however, when you noticed that it looked like he hadn’t moved a muscle since you left hours ago. Marc stayed hunched over his desk in the far corner of the space as he mumbled to himself and scribbled notes down. Papers littered the area around him and only a small desk light lit up the room. He barely even acknowledged that you were back, too focused on his work.
“Marc,” you repeated in a sterner tone as you crossed the space and rested your hands on his shoulders, “You work too hard baby,” you squeezed the taut muscles as you felt him stiffen under your touch.
He sighed and leaned back to look up at you, “Hey baby,” he finally spoke, “I’m just so close to figuring this out I just need…”
“What you need,” you interjected as you spun his swivel chair around, “Is to take a break.”
