Highschool wars au except theres one wild.
This au was made during a call between me and @frulleboi while we were playing minecraft with another friend, Lee, it was made as a joke and then like forver later I decided to draw it lol.
Characters used are Hazy Horizon Eras who belongs to @hazethestrange Limited Hero war who belongs to @limited-hero Linked Maze War and Wild both belonging to @linked-maze and @heroesspirit Eras
298 notes
·
View notes
an aspect of shadow's trauma that i've been thinking about a lot since the sa2 replay is how fucked his perspective of gerald must be after everything, especially assuming he was family to shadow just as much as maria was [which i do every day]. the man who raised you, created you from nothing but tissue samples and energy and hope, the man who could have easily decided you were a simple thing to be used and yet welcomed you into his family as easily as his own granddaughter, who treated you as a person when so many others treated you as a lab rat or a weapon or another soon-to-be-failed prototype, in a moment of unfathomable despair, decided you were to be a tool that would carry out his final plan. perhaps treating you this way was another symptom of his mental breakdown, perhaps deep down he's always seen you as nothing more than a thing to reach his goals with. you will never know, because he is dead. every comforting memory you have of him, every time he encouraged your curiosity or stayed with you during a test he could have observed from afar or told you how proud of you he was, forever tainted by the thought that it could have all been a lie. a variable in an experiment, a means to an end. how would you ever trust anyone ever again man i'm in shreds
362 notes
·
View notes
april 26 @jegulus-microfic prompt: aimless. word count: 248.
Regulus Black is not a person who ever feels misguided. At this point in his life, he feels strength in his purpose, and he’s confident in his decisions, his opinions. He follows a clear path, he’s organized—and it brings him joy to be so put-together. He doesn’t often feel lost.
That is—he’s never felt as aimless as he does now, standing before the most stunning man he’s ever met, mouth dropped open in awe as he stares wordlessly. The man grins at him, and his heart flutters. He is pure fucking gold under Regulus' gaze, glistening and warm under the sunlight, and Regulus knows he has never understood true want until this moment.
He’s been standing silently for far too long now, and he realizes he forgot the question the man asked entirely. Shit.
He stammers through half a phrase before the man’s chuckle interrupts him.
“I’m James,” he says, eyes full of honeybrown sugar as he looks down at Regulus. He’s tall. Regulus is weak in the knees.
Remembering his manners, Regulus breathes and extends a hand, “I’m Regulus.”
James’ smile widens, and he says, “That’s a lovely name, Regulus.” Their hands meet in the middle. Between them, Regulus feels the entire universe hone into the contact—he feels the universe pause and right itself completely at this moment, because nothing has ever felt as perfect as them. Regulus looks up at James, and he thinks, absurdly, in every life, my heart will find yours.
⭐️ find more of my microfics posted on ao3, here.
97 notes
·
View notes
Desert Vibes II - Grandpa V & Old Man River
VP commission by @breezypunk!
These came out so beautiful! I'm 😭 looking at these. Cute coffee truck date, guh.
Grandpa & River forever🧡
87 notes
·
View notes
The last sight she saw on this earth was an edifying one: moved by her bravery, Sir John Aleyn, the current Lord Mayor of London, sank to his knees. One by one, just before the Queen was blindfolded, she saw two thousand people sink to their knees.
Upon the scaffold, she looked utterly feminine, utterly fragile – a fragility that was to be lost for centuries within a few moments. Every sign of weakness, of believable human psychology, would be excised as the relentless legend of Anne Boleyn gathered momentum. History was watching her that day and she knew it. She was still praying – low, calm, fervently – when, on the third swing, the sword descended. The executioner crossed himself, the ladies rushed forwards, the crowd remained silent and, high above their heads, the cannon fire roared out over London. A solicitor in the crowd wrote home: "The Queen died boldly. God take her to His rest."
Too often people attempt to act as if her vindication can be found in the undeniable glory of her daughter's forty-five year reign, but that is to do Anne a disservice. In her own life, in her own personality, can be found her vindication. No one can look at her final weeks and not conclude that this was not a woman of substance and courage and, as Anne herself pointed out, such things do not spring at the end unless they have been there from the beginning. - GARETH RUSSELL
217 notes
·
View notes
👑ニャミリリちゃん🎩 つめつめ‼️‼️ by 愚か者
※If you like this artwork please support the artist by visiting the source!
36 notes
·
View notes