Alastor Drawing Outline

Merida has always just tried to make it through the day without drawing any unwanted attention, given she is about to face the scariest thing in her short life. The man she once loved, who tried to kill her. Only now she is faced with a new revelation. That there are other individuals that want her dead, all because of who she is. Yet who is she? For she doesn't think it is the 14-year-old human girl, nor are her friends who she thought they were. Nothing is as it seems! Not even her family! Plus, there is the strange new man in her life, who promises to never leave her side. As well as this dark shadow that seems to follow her everywhere and in every ERA.

Being an Omega is the last thing I want, especially since it makes some Alphas think of you as a breeding machine. My luck with Alphas haven't been the best and I know that it's because of my past and the few. . .issues I have. Time is running out though. My heat is drawing closer which means that I only have a few weeks to find an Alpha willing enough to help me through it without bonding me. The Omega Centre tried to help, but they don't understand what I want. However, there might be an Alpha who could help. All I need to do is talk his Beta into agreeing.

His hot breath fanned my ear and I nearly died the moment the straps of my dress fell away. Revealing a part of myself that left me vulnerable to his hungry gaze that moved over me. I pride myself on decency, to always be appropriate but the way he clenched his jaw and ran his large hands on my thighs made me go. . . to hell with decency. Reaching out, the need to touch him no longer bearable, I traced the outline of his torso through the fabric of his shirt. But even that wasn't enough as my hands moved underneath the fabric to trace the muscles there. He shifted slightly away triggering a fear in me that I had done something wrong. However, the fear diminished when he removed the fabric- granting my eyes the chance to feast on seeing more of his skin. He moved forward peppering light kisses all over my neck and torso only to latch onto my nipple tugging gently on the hard nub. I cried out at the movement of his teeth and tongue as his hands kept me close hindering any chance to reduce the contact to damn near impossible. Reducing the contact was the last thing I wanted, especially considering how far we had come. . .

I am a postgraduate archaeology student whose fieldwork combines GIS technology with excavation, and during one project I become entangled in a concealed emotional relationship with two lecturers. Linus is restrained, intellectually rigorous, and emotionally distant, offering a sense of order and safety rooted in academic discipline, while Theo is charismatic, passionate, and ethically unstable, drawing me into intensity and risk. What begins as professional admiration develops into intimacy shaped by secrecy, hierarchy, and blurred boundaries. As the excavation exposes layered traces of past lives, I am forced to confront my own desire, ambition, and guilt, and the story ultimately centres not on choosing between two men, but on learning how to live with complexity and accept the consequences of crossing lines.

" I can be your angel saving you from nightmares and I can also be the monster under your bed, clawing at you when you sleep", Leo whispered drawing her closer to him. " I am ruthless, don't try to change me", he smiled gripping her neck. "You are a monster", Elizabeth spat to which he laughed. Elizabeth, a nineteen years old orphan found herself in the street of America after escaping from the orphanage. Stealing and pickpocketing has been her means of survival. She found herself in the most dangerous situation when she stole an important item from the most powerful American mobster. Will he take interest in her or will she become one of his pawns?

Ever since my mom gave birth to her second child, everything in the household is tied to drawing lots. Everyone has to draw lots in order to decide whose favorite food will be served for each meal. We have to draw lots to see who among us gets a hug from our parents. Every time, I end up drawing the short end of the stick, so everyone automatically assumes that my younger sister, Anabelle Madden, gets the better lot. She easily reaps my parents' love without having to do anything at all. Whenever I feel like crying because of the injustice, Mom will scold me instantly. "I bought the lottery box because I was worried that you might feel upset about this. I'm doing this just to be fair to both of you. "If you want something, you have to be the one deciding who gets what. Your father and I won't interfere with your decision at all. Since you can't draw the better lot, that just means you have bad luck." Hence, I keep practicing my lot-drawing skills every day, hoping that I can eventually draw the better lot in order to obtain my parents' love. But for ten years, I never get to draw the better lot. Not even once. On my birthday, Anabelle wants to go to the amusement park, so Mom tells us to draw lots once again. I secretly glue two short lots together before giving it to Mom in an attempt to get her to stay with me. Instead, she slaps me and berates me for being a disobedient child who cheats in lot-drawing. Then, she leaves the house with Anabelle. When I fall to the floor, I feel the short sticks piercing through my neck.

I pleaded with my husband Cedric Fleetham over and over, and finally, he agreed to take our daughter camping in the mountains for her birthday. When I found her late the next night, she was already gone. She lay at the foot of the mountain, her tiny hand still clutching a drawing of our family. As I knelt beside her, my heart shattered. Meanwhile, Cedric was busy updating his social media. His post read, [You and our daughter are my treasures,] and it was accompanied by a photo, where he stood beside his childhood sweetheart and held hands with another little girl, watching the sunset. And there, in the corner of the picture, was a tiny hand—my daughter’s hand. The cruelest truth of all was that my daughter took that photo.

After my death, I found myself inside a romance strategy game, where the system assigned me three male leads. If I followed its instructions and successfully captured the heart of any one of them, I would return alive and well in the real world. Drawing on my experience, I crafted careful scripts to win their affection. Yet, every attempt ended in failure. The reason was simple: each of them had already fallen for the dazzling heroine of their world. They hurled cruel words at me, as if wishing I would just drop dead. In the end, I fulfilled their desire—when my strategies failed, the system erased me. But the moment I died, they all regretted it. One by one, they begged the heavens to return me to them.

On the day of the wedding, my best friend, Elena Hartman, can't bear to part with me, so she threads my wedding shoes with a string and ties them snugly around her slim waist. The groomsmen turn the whole place upside down, and we end up late for the ceremony. She eventually cracks up and tugs at her billowy bridesmaid dress, revealing the outline of the shoes at her waist. "I dare you to come take them. As long as I'm here, she's not getting married!" My fiancé, Miles Lawson, shakes his head and chuckles. "You just love tormenting us, don't you?" Miles exchanges a look with the groomsmen, and they charge at her at the same time. She squeals as she falls back onto the bed, squirming under her layers of tulle. "Don't be so rough! I'm ticklish…" The groomsmen flush bright red. Miles' ears turn scarlet as he feels around her waist. She giggles even louder. "How are you going to undo it through all these layers? Use your head!" Then, she gasped. "That tickles!" Her theatrics make my temper flare. I spring to my feet, lift her skirt, and rip the wedding shoes right off her. "If you're that ticklish, smack yourself with a slipper. Drop the act, or I'll yank out the nerves that make you ticklish!"

I leave my boyfriend without a word when he's at his lowest. He later makes a name for himself and forces me to marry him. Our relationship goes viral online and becomes the subject of everyone's envy. They all say he's desperately in love with me, but he later sleeps with other women in our bed. I fall from grace and become the city's biggest laughingstock. I don't cause a scene. Instead, I move into the guest bedroom and leave the master bedroom for them. He's furious as he grips my neck roughly. He bites my lips, drawing blood. "Why aren't you mad?" Because I'm sick. I don't have the time to wait for him to see the error of his ways anymore.