#sry they’re in the void

[ashartstuff]

miscellaneous creek bc that’s all I draw atp

(memes under the cut :P)

#south park #sp #my art #creek #sry they’re in the void #maybe one day I’ll draw a background #who knows #only time will tell #sp tweek #sp craig #sp creek #tweek tweak #craig tucker #craig and those guys

[bungiri]

Does Wren have any farm animals or just monster plants?

she does ! she starts out with a few regular farm animals that u would expect to see, nothing out of the ordinary, but stranger animals are drawn to her farm as it gets bigger

she’ll have in game animals like the void chickens, blue chickens she gets when she befriends shane, dinos, eventually ostriches just for fun

but i have a lot of ideas for weird animals that aren’t in the game too lol like a family of void ducks, a two headed calf born from one of her normal cows, rabbits that change color each season

i drew her void ducks bc they’re cute !! :P

she also has 2 dogs and a cat ,, i guess they technically count as farm animals bc they Do help around the farm

the first dog she gets is named rocky ,, he’s a chunky lil chocolate lab with a blue scarf ,, he’s the dog that marnie sees roaming around her farm

soon after, she starts to see a little white ghost dog roaming around, messing with her monster plants, and trying to play with rocky. she discovers there’s a hidden graveyard on her farm and the dog’s headstone tells her its name is boo

and her cat is a stray who was always roaming around the abandoned farm before she moved in so it still kinda considers that its home. rumor in town is that the cat is on its 10th life

sry for the long reply i have so many ideas for her 👉🏼👈🏼

#stardew valley #sdv oc #sdv farmer #stardew valley farmer #farmer wren #farmer wren lore #my art 𓈒˚⭒ #bunnymail ⸝⸝ 💌 ★

[conziergearch]

THE LITTLE THINGS ;   muse questionnaire .   moa zhao .

favourite tea .     ceremonial matcha,   though jasmine and a good earl grey  ( or lady grey with added lemon- and orange peel )  is a close second. favourite coffee .     frequently drinks her coffee black,   but then it’s mostly part of her routine.   if it’s consumed for taste and the experience,   she enjoys a nice latte with soy milk.   she does pay attention to where she sources her coffee beans from,  too,   and because she’s usually the one taking responsibility to keeping the coffee stocks filled at work,   everyone kind of has to deal with her being picky about it. favourite sweet snack .     around this time of the year,   probably candied almonds,   and obviously best eaten when still warm.   that or croissants. favourite savory snack .     fresh summer rolls.   if you bring them,   she’s gonna love on you for the rest of the day probably. favourite flowers .     all...  of them?   nemophila menziesii makes entire fields look like oceans,   so it’s pretty high on the list  ( together with poppies, sunflowers, lavender, etc. )   but if you plan to get her flowers,   the safest bet is always just picking flowers you see on your way or getting her potted plants. favourite colors .     ocean blue,  forest green.   and it’s got less to do with the colours themselves and more with the fact that she’s usually outside when she’s surrounded by them,   in the forest,  among trees,  by a river...   anywhere where she feels grounded.   she does not like red and black together  ( sry @taiinted​, they’re sexi on morgan tho )   because of the associations with night, blood, fire, and death.   despite her wardrobe consisting of a lot of black next to neutral colours like beige,   her apartment is pretty much void of black and red.   except that one vase morgan once got her and that sits in the kitchen,   as a small home for parsley. favourite fruit .     all fruit is good fruit.   but it’s currently time to harvest her persimmons so everyone’s welcome to raid her little garden in the middle of boston! favourite vegetable .     pak choi and kale.   i know. favourite season .     the crisp days between winter and spring,   when everything’s slowly coming back to life but the days are still slow and centered around being home with the family and kids. favourite time of the day .     dawn.   has always been,   will always be.   nothing quite makes her forgive the struggle of a night like racing the sun at the start of the day. favourite kind of weather .     the couple of hours before a storm,   when the air is sizzling and mist obscures the vision.   it makes her feel closest to her gods. love language to give .     physical touch and quality time. love languages to receive .     physical touch and acts of service. specific niche love languages .     she centers most of her love around food,   both preparing and consuming it,   because she went such a long time  ( and practically all her childhood )   barely even getting any scraps.   food is associated with being nurtured for and nurturing,   and it’s a less terrifying way of showing vulnerability  ( as in, affection )   than admitting someone’s value to her life verbally.  so it’s pretty frequent that she gets people coffee or something for lunch,   including coworkers that she’s genuinely grateful to have on her team even if her words and facial expressions don’t really show it. favourite hobbies .     she’s an avid cooker and gardener and makes  ( grows )   most of her food from scratch.   she likes running and working out in general.   she climbs!   and every once in a while when she stumbles across another biker,   she enjoys causing havoc on the streets together.   she’s also got her pilot license.   and if that’s not enough,   she plays the lute and viola.   in summary,   she’s basically a never dying battery that’s constantly buzzing around,   and if you ever wonder if she’d like to try out x with your muse,  yes. favourite books .     she pretty much only reads scientific books or biographies and isn’t that much of a recreational reader.   she does enjoy oscar wilde, victor hugo, jules verne, anne rice...   but wouldn’t be able to name a favourite book. favourite movies .     she doesn’t watch movies or shows.   i know,  i know.   her recreational time indeed is spent mostly outside.   she could probably tell you where exactly to find x plant in the neighbourhood but hasn’t been to any movie theatre in boston.   stage one of any friendship with her is usually making her watch your favourite movie. favourite songs .     shostakovich’s waltz no 2,   but i probably have a whole playlist of songs that i believe she listens to on the regular somewhere. favourite musician .     ... she doesn’t really listen to that many musicians and i know too little about orchestra performers to name any.   she probably listens to misha maisky often? favourite animals .     wolves,  whales. favourite insects .     bees. favourite terrain .     forests and moutains are probably the most obvious answers,   together with rivers and oceans,   considering her background and usual outdoor activities.   but she’s fascinated with the tundra and marshes so much that she has books on them in her apartment.

tagged by .    @taiinted, thank u ily!!     tagging .     @proifiler​, @kheen, @eydetik, @spxnglr, @cptnpike, @doctordonovan, @balldwin, @cl2ire, @paramounticebound​, @theresastargirl​, @trustschaos​, @saycred​ (martha), @rizico​, @strnza​, @khrused​,  and whomever else is on the dashboard rn and wants to answer these!

#― 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦 ， it was as if the empty nights were made for thinking of her. m. zhao * #what movie does ur muse make her watch im askin for a friend

[pniik]

😈 ( ouija board ) → darcy @ pik obv bc she's a menace sry >:3

▬▬▬ honesty/meme day; halloween/fall prompts !

send 😈 to invite my muse to play with an ouija board with your muse

not all the way on board. never all the way with these things. ouija boards were, in layman’s terms, mouths for the dead, not all friendly [ . . . ] but darcy insisted. so, the plan was, then, to clear a path for her, keep any unfriendlies off of her as she calls out into the void. keep. her. safe. so, that’s what they were gonna do. holy hues graze over the game, flicker back to the daring witch. fingers stretch over the planchette, signal they’re ready with a small nod ▬▬▬ but she seems just a little hesitant now. pik bends their neck, browns try to meet browns, hand reaches for hers. ❛ ❛ hey. i’m right here. you’ve got this. ❜ ❜ didn’t need to be said ? surely. she knew it. surely. still wanted to. hand sets back on the planchette.

[ /@hlcynsouls ]

#/_ ¿ .hmd #darcy_cortéz.hmd #hlcynsouls #darcy_cortéz.rel #dofshdsggdpg #we love menaces in this house ??? 💓💗💛💞 #so................... we can turn this into a thread #we can 1 shot it #entirely ur call #but. [insert screaming beaver here] #this was fun 😝

[theacewithmace]

What Element Writer Are You?

Sry was looking thru writing tags and saw this quiz and now i have no choice but to do it

Storm Writer

Writers of the storm, the rain, and the snow. Angst is your element. You mastered the art of making it hurt, in every way. That quiet hurt of a smile on a crying face. Your words whisper to the lonely ones that they’re not alone. You are able to show your readers a universe where everything’s okay, and even if it hurts it’s okay, because being sad is a feeling that deserves to be felt. Yells against the dark of the night. Screams of rage and hurt, tears running down soft cheeks and white knuckles. You are there, screaming with them. Angry at the unfairness, and fighting it, in the first place it attacks you. In the heart. And you’re the hand, offered to the hopeless. With a delicate smile on your lips, you help people stand up again. The storm writer, the one who knows how it feels, to be screaming in the void, and doesn’t want anyone else to live it too. You are the storm writer, but you’re able to build beautiful reigns of ice and snow, and offer comfort to the ones who seek it.

#wow #got called out on my angst but in a… positive hopeful way? #also the whole bit abt knowing what the pain feels like and showing others who experience it they aren’t alone and there’s hope? #:’) #sry idk why i’m doing all these quizzes but ngl they’ve been making my day #quiz #writer quiz

[gracelesssoloist]

///tw hallucinations + body horror (?)

ok i am so tired that i have hit the point of hallucinating,,, and I’m fine dw!! narcolepsy just be like that sometimes it’s genuinely not a big deal and it doesn’t bother me at all, it’s kind of interesting seeing what my brain comes up with.

but like!!! if it could be less creepy stuff thatd be great!!! i rly don’t enjoy havin a dude with dead fish for hands chillin in my bedroom. it’s rly like not my first choice of people i want in my bedroom tbh.

anyway i forgot what my point to this post was bc, per my previous statement, I’m fucking SLEEPY so. have this disjointed mess of a text post thanks for existing u guys i just rly love u all 🥺

#tw hallucinations #tw body horror #ask to tag #the way i deal w/ hallucinations is usually i thro smth at them lmfao or just go up n wave my hand thru em #so my brain realizes they’re not real #but mr fishfingers is a recurring character in my hallucinations and he is a stubborn fucker #btw!! sry if tall abt hallucinations is uncomfy for yall I’m posting this on my main bc i kno most of u r bots dhjshs #but i just needed 2 yell into the void abt this rarely discussed symptom of sleep disorders #destigmatize hallucinations yall anyone can hallucinate and theres nothing inherently wrong or bad abt it #but like also. get ur rest so u don’t hallucinate lol #anyway he gone now i will attempt to nap and by nap i mean i will stare @ my phone until i pass out gn

[angel-anoetic]

Hey! 🌿 here, fist thing, you are really gathering an audience now! I'm so proud of you for that. You definitely deserve it. Now for the request but, how about one with Punz were you guys weren't even friends it was just the benefits, and someone takes one if readers canon lives and Punz just /flips out/. Thank you again, you're doing amazing!

thank you so much 🌿 anon! i really can't believe how far i've come so fast. you were my first anon, and i am forever grateful for you trusting me with your requests!! enjoy the fic, i did imply it was kinda spicy, so i hope that is okay- enjoy!! <3

Don't forget to like to save, reblog to share!

c!Punz x gn!Reader - Heavy Minds

genre: /rom, feelings come to boil

warnings: reader death, implied violence, implied nsfw (nothing explicit)

masterlist <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had never considered you and Punz to be friends. Quite frankly, neither did he. You and the merchant had met by chance one day when you and Karl needed some gold. You had tagged along, as you'd never met him before.

"Hey Punz! I was wondering if you could help me."

"Sure, Karl, what do you need?" Karl began to explain what he and the fiance's needed for their new establishment while you poked around the chests that sat in the tower. Then, you went up through the levels and explored what each had to offer.

You were going through a chest on the third floor when you felt a body behind you.

"Dude, Karl, this guy has a lot of shit."

"Yeah, well, this guy has a lot to do." He scoffed—crap, not Karl. You turned and were met with blue eyes as he stared you down.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to come off as bitchy or anything." You gave a small laugh that wasn't returned. He just stared at you, his face void of emotion.

"What are you doing anyway? Snooping around my stuff?" He moved you away from his chests with his body, rummaging through it to make sure nothing had been touched or taken.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "Like I would ever want any of the crap in there." You could feel your emotions getting the better of you, but it was infuriating how he was talking to you like you were just an inconvenience to him.

Something about your tone must've ticked something in him because next, you knew, you were stood against the wall of Punz tower, his arms resting on either side of your head. You both stared each other down, both refusing to let down your guard. Finally, his eyes drifted from your eyes to your lips, licking his own as his hand moved from the wall towards your cheek, caressing it softly.

"Y/N!! We have to get going!" You were snapped back to reality by Karls voice calling from below.

You cleared your throat as Punz backed away from you. Later that night, you went back, and it just continued from there ever since.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And that's all you both expected. You'd go over, or he'd sneak into El Rapids, then the next day, you both would carry on with your day like nothing had happened. Sure there were lingering stares, some late-night conversations, but nothing that could ever hold enough substance.

And that's what it was until today.

Sam had shown up at El Rapids at dawn and refused to leave without you, claiming that he had to discuss something of business. He didn't tell you that the businesses surrounded a claim that you had stolen valuable property from the prison.

The old unit where he had kept Ponk ( the day he lost his arm) was still standing, so that where you stood, in a box that Sam had locked you in without any weapons or armor.

"Sam, just let me go! Why would I steal from you, especially since it has to do with the prison!"

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but you know that I am going to need a confession or proof that you're not guilty."

You hit the glass of the box and groaned. "Do I look stupid enough to steal from you and the prison? Really Sam!"

"I don't know, but nonetheless, you might be stupid enough to do it."

You huffed and marched towards the bed that had been set up in the room.

By this time, a few people had started to gather a bit away from where you and Sam were. So not only was this aggravating, but now it was humiliating.

"Y/N, I need something. Now. Or...I'm going to have to do something neither of us wants to happen."

Punz stood watching as Sam talked to whoever was in the box. He walked over to Bad, who had been watching the whole thing unfold.

"What the fuck happened dude?"

"Language. Sam said that Y/N stole something or messed with the prison-I'm not really sure. But it doesn't look like they're getting off scot-free."

You turned back to Sam. "And what are you gonna do about it?"

"I tried to warn you. I'm sorry Y/N" There was a click of a button then a sudden opening in the ceiling.

"Sam, what is that?"

He remained silent. The heat in the room grew. The smell was one you recognized from years of mining, years of visiting the nether.

"Sam, no-no!" Your hands couldn't do enough damage to the windows. The walls that held you in were too strong for your bare hands. The lava hissed against the ground, mere inches from your feet.

"Sam!!" The tears fell fast, the lava inched closer at your skin. Some pops hit your bare skin, sizzling, making you scream out more.

Punz rushed over at the first screams. He looked at Sam, who stood stone-faced.

"Dude, what the fuck! Get them out of there!" He pushed Sam, who stepped back immediately.

"I can't. Until I have proof or a confession." Punz looked back at the box, tears starting to fill his eyes.

He ran to the glass, placing his hands against yours. "Look at me!"

His voice was muffled, but you could still understand him. "It hurts! It's so hot, Punz!" The first inches of lava hit your feet, making you let out a strained scream.

Punz turned back to Sam. "What proof do you need!?"

"Some stuff happened around prison three nights ago. If someone can vouch for them truthfully, I'll know I was wrong."

"I can!"

"How?" Sam scoffed.

"Because...because they were with me. They stayed the night at my place."

Sam looked confused. "Are you lying? Do you-" Another heart-wrenching scream pulled both your attention to the box?

One second you were there; the next, you were gone.

Punz's heart at that moment broke. An unworldly pain shot through his chest.

"You killed them."

"I took one life. They'll be back soon. And free now that you've vouched for them."

Punz didn't need snarky comments right now. He needed to let his pain be known. So he stood up and tackled Sam, knocking him to the ground.

"You son of a bitch! What the hell would you do that!" He threw one punch which Sam narrowly avoided, then another, which caught Sam at the perfect place.

The punches refused to stop. Everything was almost in slow motion for Punz. His fist hit Sam relentlessly. Sams mask was beginning to crack from the blows. He finally pushed Punz off of him.

Punz stood tall as he pulled his crossbow from behind him, pointing it directly at Sam.

"Don't!" Bad rushed over, pointing the weapon towards the sky as the arrow left the weapon.

"He needs to pay-"

"No!" Bad stood in front of Punz. "Stop. This solves nothing. What you can do is go find y/n. Make sure they're okay. They won't be here, more likely at El Rapids. Please, just go, before you end up in more trouble."

"Bad..." Bad's eyes said it all though. Punz knew he was right. Sam was groaning on the floor, desperately trying to hold his mask together.

"Thank you." Punz whispered to Bad before running off towards the direction of El Rapids.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this one was kinda...long lmaoo, sry i haven't gotten punz requests for a bit

#c!punz x reader #c!punz x y/n #punz x reader #punz x y/n #dsmp x y/n #dsmp x reader #dsmp imagine #dreamsmp x reader #dream smp imagines #dream smp x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #🌿 #🌿 anon

[cheelduh]

How to strike your way into someone’s heart (Highschool AU)

Part 2 to this. Can be read alone!

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Warnings: A lot of swearing I mean what do you expect they’re all teenagers. Lots of brick slapping. Childe clowns Scaramouche. OH YES this isn’t edited at all lmfao have fun.

Synopsis: It’s your big date with Childe after you lost the bet miserably. You decide to pay the occult club a visit in hopes of finding something that can...ease your concerns. Childe on the other hand has Signora give him a friendly piece of advice, believe it or not. 

Note: SRY THIS TOOK ME LIKE A MONTH

For as long as you can remember, you've never believed in ghosts, demons, or souls that lose their way in the endless void, forced to roam the earth in repentance.

Believing in the unknown takes creativity, adventure, maybe even a little sense of fear. Scratch that—a shitton of fear, because humans love to weave in their insecurities and inability to explain something into something of a phenomenon.

Bad luck lies in this category. Bad luck is simply a way to justify the catastrophe that one cannot admit they have fabricated themselves. Everyone wants a reason as to why shit hits the fan, and it can be anything but their own fault.

Bad luck is nothing but a load of bull to you. That's totally why you're standing outside the calculus classroom during lunch break, which happens to be the official meet spot for the occult club.

You raise a fist to knock, but then falter, thinking over your options once again. Is this what it has come to? Putting your faith into the weird kids that once tried to summon Schrödinger's cat for the physics final.

Fischl kicks the door wide open, a smirk playing at her lips once she spots you. "One cannot refrain from the song of your cogitation. The feline for which thou dwell on—"

A squeak leaves your throat and you flinch back, cutting her off. "You can read my mind?"

"Fischl," An icy eyed boy shows up from behind her and points a thumb back. "Mona needs your help."

Fischl squints at you for a brief moment, and then spins onto her heel to go back into the room.

The blue haired lower class man, Chongyun you guess, narrows his eyes at you. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Finally you manage to speak, palms all sweaty. "Yeah uh, I need your help. You know, with occulty things." You use your hands to articulate your thoughts, but ultimately give up.

You're not sure if it's pity towards your pathetic explanation or simply annoyance, but Chongyun widens the opening. He silently gestures for you to follow.

Stumbling on your feet and putting on your big girl pants, you hurry inside of the room, hoping you aren't seen by Beidou. She wouldn't let you hear the end of this.

The temperature instantly drops, and you have to adjust your sight to navigate. There's heavy incense in the air as well as a a few lighted candles from the dollar store, you guess.

Sitting smack dab in the middle of all the demonic markings is Mona, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Chongyun has made his way next to her, crossing his arms with a sigh, and Fischl is busy cooing at her bird.

"Well well well..." Mona's amused, eyes almost twinkling as she gets up from the poor desk that had to suffer the wrath of her ass. "If it isn't Y/N."

Mona is a glorified dick wiper in your books. One time, she partnered up with you in chemistry last year and refused to do any work because apparently her "star sign" said she was incompatible with science. You haven't forgiven her since.

"I need your help." You barely manage to choke out the words, reigning yourself in by clenching your fists instead. It'll be unethical to claw her face, especially since you're the one who's come to her.

"Oh?" She smiles wickedly, revelling in every moment of this no doubt. "Why would the high and mighty Y/N need help from the 'Whoroscope whore'?"

Fischl nearly slips out a laugh, trying with her upmost ability to refrain from rolling all over the floor.

You blink away your tears of almost-laughter, casually sliding in twenty mora across the table dividing you two. If she's a whoroscope whore like you say she is, she'll definitely put it in her bra.

Mona raises a brow, but her eyes linger on the bill for a second too much. "What makes you think I'll do it for money?"

"That's simple," You say, rolling your eyes. "When you see mora, you cling to it like a baby clings to a tit. Now just take it and solve my issues."

She fumes a litany of curses but snatches the money up anyways.

"What do you want?"

You breathe in, then out. "I need a talisman."

Mona raises a brow, hand on her hip. "I'm sorry. Did I get that right?"

How dare she. You will your eye into not twitching, the beginnings of fire thrumming through your veins, scalding hot. How dare she make me repeat myself.

"You know, the thing to fend off evil spirits," Your statement hangs heavy in the air as the cogs in their brains click into place. "I need one that can remove the most evilest thing times ten to the power of twenty five on this planet."

Everyone immediately thinks of Hu Tao.

Chongyun is the first to speak from an area of expertise, seemingly shocked at your words. "Are you sure you want a talisman that powerful? How bad is the evil spirit you've come across?"

You glance out the window, through the semi-open blinds. The apprehension curls in your stomach once you spot Childe chasing Aether with safety scissors, and you've never been more sure of than anything in your life.

Gulping, you turn back to the exorcist. "I'm 110% sure."

He doesn't ask any more questions and goes to fetch the talisman.

Mona clears her throat. "So I hear you have a date with Childe today. Quite the character you've taken to."

"Oh please," You hiss through your teeth, your blood pressure going up tenfold, "you're the one that told him our star signs were intertwined and that we're fated lovers."

She shrugs innocently, stance casual unlike your own that is ready to lunge an attack.

"Here you are," Chongyun hands you a talisman, a colourful mix of some charms, some kind of liquid in a bottle, and about a shitton of other things. "You'll need these if you're going to face the most demonic of all evils."

You think of Childe's stupidly handsome smirk, the playful life of his eyes, and how gentle and considerate he is with you. You think about how cruel he is to others, but how loving he can be to you.

"Oh, I will be."

—

Childe is getting his ass handed to him by Scaramouche on the switch. It's just that he can't seem to focus, not with the forthcoming date all over his mind.

He hasn't experienced these kind of jitters in a long time. Has to endure that foolish smile that's about to plaster all over his face.

Scaramouche may be a son of a bitch with an agenda, but he doesn't appreciate his acquaintances safeguarding their personal crap when it starts to leak onto him. Especially when it comes to video games.

"Okay," The short boy sighs, stretching over the staff room sofa to drop his controller on the cushions. "Let's hear it." He can't even properly enjoy his victories when Childe isn't giving it his all.

"Hear what?" Childe lays his head back, relaxing from all the strain of endless gaming during the lunch hour. He seems too relaxed for someone who's broken into the teacher's lounge.

"Why you're so distracted." Scaramouche points out. "Not that I care—hey! I'm serious here!"

Childe's cracking up for absolutely no reason, rudely cutting him off. "I'm sorry—sorry it's just so hard to take you seriously when you're wearing that stupid fucking hat."

"Don't question the drip." The older moves his head to glare at him, but the thin stripe of silk on his hat swooshes with him, and it's enough to have Childe clutching his stomach in pain as he barks out in laughter.

"Grow the fuck up." Scaramouche says, no doubt exasperated from the constant shit he gets.

"Ok—ok I'm sorry."

There's a knock on the door before Scaramouche gets the chance to intimidate him again.

"Fuck shit fuck who is that? Wasn't there a staff meeting?" Childe whisper yells, panic clear in the ocean of his eyes.

Scaramouche shrugs and downs a can of soda with no care in the world.

Childe would be nonchalant too. If it were a normal day, he wouldn't give two shits about getting caught.

However, he's looking forward to that date he has with you today. Detention is going foil all his lecherous plans.

"It's me." The feminine sound of a threat calls out from the other side. "Open the door." The clicks and clacks of her toes tapping the floor indicating her impatience.

The two sigh in relief, Childe getting up to open the door. It's way too early in the afternoon to deal with this crap.

"Surprised to see me?" Signora greets sweetly, and if not for the murderous glint in her eyes, he would smile back.

"Yeah, I didn't say Bloody Mary three times." The ginger replies, keeping a steady eye on the upperclassman in case she pulls a fast one.

The blonde shoves him aside in offence, and prances in like she owns the goddamn place. Scaramouche greets her with the bird.

"There's this rumour going around—I'm sure you've heard..."

"Oh?" Childe pockets his keys, ready for an attack, not even remotely interested in the topic.

"Something about how Y/N gave Mona a visit today" Signora muses, elegantly taking a seat on the arm of the couch, "with your date and all, I just thought you should know."

"Hah!" Scaramouche bursts out in laughter, tears in the corner of his eyes. "I can't believe she went to get a horoscope reading on how shitty your date's gonna be."

"Get castrated." Childe growls, flipping him off on both hands.

"Now now boys," Signora's lips curl, and she clasps both manicured hands together, prepared to break the fight if it ever reaches its peak. "Settle down. You two are comrades."

"As if I'm comrades with this SIMP!" Scaramouche has to wheeze out the words.

The youngest clenches his fists, unclenches, and then lets a smirk grow. "Oh? I'm the simp? What about that time Mona pantsed you in-front of all the freshmen and you fell in love with her."

Scaramouche glares at him, a glare strong enough to have anyone shaking in their shoes. "I'm attracted at her sheer audacity of trying to fuck I, Scaramouche, the 8th harbinger, over. It takes balls."

"Mad respect." Signora leans forward to place her phone on the coffee table, then approaches Childe. "Moving on, the reason I've decided to bestow my precious intel on you is because I have a favour to ask of you."

"What?" He says blankly, confused that she has a request for him out of all people.

"I need you to let me get you ready for this date of yours." She gives him a gaze that is enough to wither away any arguments.

Childe shares a look with Scaramouche as if to say "am I fucking deaf because I sure as shit didn't just hear that."

"You sure as hell did, boys." Signora intercepts the connection of their two brainwaves with a dreaded sigh. "I hate Y/N. This is the only way I can get back at her."

"Hey!" Childe exclaims loudly, waving his hands in the air incessantly. "What makes you think I'll let you shit on my future girlfriend."

"I'll be doing nothing of the sorts." She points out, giving him a sly smile. "I just know she's terrified of what's coming. The better the date is, the more she's gonna hate herself. What more do I need but to sprinkle some inner conflict within her airtight resolve?"

As favorable as the proposal is, Childe  contemplates for a second. Signora...helping him? This could work to his advantage if he plays his cards right.

His inner turmoil takes him into the future, where you two are happily married with eight and a half kids. If you ever managed to find out Signora was the culprit that was finally able to set you two up, you'd never forgive him.

"Nah I'll take a hard pass." He doesn't want to think about divorce and custody battles this early on. He'd rather face the brunt of Signora's wrath.

Scaramouche chooses right then to make a tactical withdrawal out through the window since he doesn't want to be a witness to a murder he hasn't caused.

Surprisingly— "Fine then." Signora shrugs, unbothered when summoning out a minty juul from no where. She's disappointed nonetheless.

Childe tilts his head, perplexed, but decides against mulling over it for too long. Instead, he strides off to the door, wanting to get the last two periods over with so he can run home and freshen up for this date.

"Oh and Childe?" Signora calls out to him, but he barely acknowledges her, only pausing momentarily without looking back. "A piece of friendly advice. A diligent student like Y/N, there's no way she'd be into rash things like fighting. So try and control yourself, hmm?"

He flashes the senior a sheepish smile, the front row tickets to the illegal underground fight-club burning in the back pocket of his pants.

—

Childe conceals near the bushes by the gate, expertly hiding his shaking hands by pretending to look for something in his back. His goal isn't to seem desperate, even though he's raced out here at the speed of light after Havria's dismissal.

It's not like he's trying to eavesdrop or anything. He just wants a little insight on how you're feeling about this, in case the rumors of you visiting the occult club wasn't a farce.

From his peripheral, he spots you and a familiar figure that is Lisa, leisurely walking side by side as you approach the main side walk.

"Ready for your date, Y/N? You've been daydreaming all afternoon." Lisa winks, and dodges the shove you send her way with experience like no other.

"Yes, daydreaming about punching you in the face." Your left eye twitches in annoyance as you fix your hold on your skateboard.

"Well then, I'll be off—ah!"

The gorilla grip you have on her sleeve takes away all the time she has to get on the last bus she's about to miss.

Your utter strength is enough to make Childe's knees weak. How pathetic he thinks.

"Oh no you don't," You say in a sing-song voice, "you got me into this, so you're going to help."

"Help with what?" Lisa fakes a hard pout as she bats her lashes, trying to collect pity points.

"I—" You inhale, loosening your grip on her and averting your eyes nervously to see if anyone's watching. "Don't make me say it."

The older girl motions for you to continue, and you're sure you've suffered more for less at this point.

"I've never...been on a..." The sentence ends in a trailed murmur.

Childe doesn't think he's ever seen you so flustered. He's about to snap a picture for later, but decides against it. They'll be plenty of moments later on to see your cute expressions.

Lisa's grin is both seductive and terrifying, Childe notices. "You've never been on a date?"

"Shut up!" You hiss, dropping your board so you can cover her lips with your palm, eyes darting around your surroundings frantically. "Not so loud."

He has to bite at his fist to hide his amusement.

As if she has a sixth sense, Lisa's eyes somehow find Childe's through the abundance of leaves, and there's a glint in her eyes that nearly makes him shart his pants.

"Of course Y/N," She replies sweetly to you, who is currently unaware of the staring match going on. "I'll teach you everything you need to know...and more."

Childe doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing. Nor does he want to find out.

—

You ponder on what's taking him so long, more on edge than you usually are. Thankfully, Lisa basically pried your hair down from its usual up-do. Said something about how you can hide your lack of shits given as to not offend him.

Except you think you're giving more shits that you expected to. Why else would your heart be pounding so hard?

"What took you so long?" You sense him creeping up on you, ceasing his chance to pounce.

Childe groans playfully and slaps a hand over his face as he comes into view. "How'd you know?"

"You have a douche-styled gait." You reply as you remove your gaze off your phone to approach him.

He's prepared to shoot a witty reply, but it dies halfway through his throat when he procures a good look at you. Your hair frames your face elegantly, eyes shining despite the tiredness that's so clear, all complete with a cooling spring dress that hugs you just right.

Mouth going dry, he forgets how to speak the common tongue, unable to tear his gaze off your form.

You shift in place awkwardly. "Uh are you okay? Looking a little...blank."

"Sorry—sorry just thinking." Childe stumbles over his words like the complete idiot and a half he is, berating himself countlessly on the inside. He regains his confidence once he spots the light dust on your cheeks. "You ready for the best date ever?"

"The best date huh?" It's the first time you smile today, and he swears his heart leaps in his rib cage. You're the prettiest thing he's ever laid his eyes on. "I'm ready. I better not be disappointed."

"I wouldn't dare disappoint, girlie." He feigns mock offence as dramatically as possible. "I'll show you how to have some real fun. Cool keychain by the way, for good luck?"

It's one of the charms Chongyun urged you to carry with you at all times to keep all forms of evil away.

"Yeah...something like that."

The two of you ease into the walk in a relatively comfortable fashion, contributing with lively chatter and a few jabs here and there. It's not awkward at all, not like you thought it would be. Your nerves loosen up, mind diverting from the roots of the stress of high school.

"—And you won't believe what Kaeya did the other day. I'm telling you there's something wrong with him because that SoundCloud rapper wannabe Venti goaded him into birdboxing through the hallways at lunch."

"And the son of a bitch did it?"

"The son of a bitch did it." Childe confirmed, gasping through his laughs as the two of you converse in psychobabble. "And guess who he bumped into?"

You're choking in laughter, tears in your eyes as you hunch over and shake. "He didn't. Childe—no he didn't."

"Straightttt into Diluc. And he had the balls to feel him up because he thought he bumped into a hot bab—"

Childe crashes into a sturdy chest and stumbles backwards towards you, but manages to catch his balance midway. Both of you freeze when faced with a buff guy from another school, bandages on his fist and a crooked smirk on his face.

Fuck. You think. Classic high school cliché.

Realizing he can't risk the remainder of this date when it hasn't even begun, Childe raises a hand in apology, aiming to be the bigger person instead of socking the kid in the face.

"Sorry. I wasn't looking." He offers to the guy, but you can tell he isn't buying any of it. There are about four more kids who group, a setup that isn't going to end in your favour.

"Hey punk. You don't remember me?" The upperclassmen barks out, glaring holes into your date.

You deadpan towards Childe, but he's too is racking his brain to remember. Ends up shrugging with no recollection.

"I have a list of names but they're in my other pants." Shit, what an a-grade reply. Now you know you're done for. "Listen dude, I'm kind of on a date and the vibe is going great. Don't ruin it."

"It's a good thing she's here to watch then!" The guy yells, stomping so that he's right in-front of Childe, ready to pounce. "You humiliated me in front of my gang last week. I'm here to rip you a new one."

Childe blinks, tries to remember, and when he doesn't, he grabs a wad full of cash from the his Fanny pack and throws it at the guy's feet.

Everyone's eyes bulge out of their sockets, including yours at the amount of money placed there casually on the crack of the dirty sidewalk.

"Hopefully this is enough for the damages." Childe offers, aiming to not further escalate the situation albeit how pissed he is right now. If you weren't here...well that would be another, much more violent story.

With a soft tug, Childe brings you close and begins to pass the guy, until he's abruptly stopped by a hand gripping his shoulder tightly.

"I don't think so!" The guys barks, and his lackeys move to surround you two. "You gotta pay taxes too buddy." Oh he's getting way too comfortable now.

A feral smile grows on Childe's face as he looks over his shoulder. "Oh?"

"Yeah shithead." The guy seethes, puffing out his chest to size him up.

Childe itches for a fight. He can no longer keep in the urge and is just about ready to raise a heavy fist, but is beaten by the sound of a loud thwack, and then a painful groan following.

There you are, standing in front of the trembling asshole, spinning your crossbody bag in circles like it's a nunchuck in all it's glory. There's a deadly glint in your eyes, pure, unadulterated vexation in your features.

If Childe could fall for you any harder, it's probably happening now. In that exact moment, his heart beats in his ears uncontrollably, and there's nothing but raw adoration that piles up all at once.

You're an angel of destruction, a force not to be reckoned with, and shit, you're the eye of the fucking storm.

Fire courses through your veins as you pulverize the guy with your bag, swinging with such expertise it has Childe in awe. "He may be an absolute idiot for not remembering—"

"Hey girlie you're killing me here!" Your date snaps out of his astonishment temporarily.

"—but you don't get to call him a shithead, you asshole!" You snarl angrily, gripping the handle of your bag tightly, decking everyone that lunges at you, letting out strings of curses with every hit. Every hit sends a flock of them either stumbling back in pain, or knocked out completely.

Childe doesn't even get a chance to lift a finger by the time you're done violating them with your heavy ass pink bag. Stands there like an absolute loser.

"Apologize." You pant, prepared to send another flurry of attacks at the leader, who is crawling away with a battered face. "Apologize or I'll—I'll fucking Russian neck tie your ass."

"S-sorry!" The guy whimpers out and tries not to piss his pants at the threat.

Childe is still in too much shock at the whole ordeal to reply, short circuiting.

Another thirty seconds pass until he registers the smaller hand waving in front of his face. He catches your cold hand through his haze, brings it closer.

Running a free hand through his locks, he doesn't hide his astonishment. "You're fucking gorgeous, girlie." He whistles lowly, eyeing you with a new kind of regard.

"I-I uh." Your face is all shades of red by now, the adrenaline from kicking ass wearing down. "Let's go."

"How is that bag so heavy?" One of the fallen gasps out in pain, clutching his ribs as he trembles on the floor. "Like a buh-brick."

A part of your zipper in open, and Childe briefly peeks out of morbid curiosity. His jaw slackens. "Is that a...no, it can't be."

"It's a brick." You murmur guiltily, gnawing at your bottom lip. "Just in case." Fingers tentatively play with the straps.

Childe is head over heels by now, all smitten as a foreign warmth bubbles up in his throat, and he's just about sure he'll puke his heart out.

His next words are picked out carefully. "There's an underground fight club going on—"

You lock and aim for his right kidney.

Worth a try, Childe thinks.

"SIKE. Joking—joking. Just a joke." He insists, gloved hands raised by his ears in defence.

Clicking your tongue, you scowl and rush past him.

It hasn't even been an hour and it's been the most exciting date Childe's ever experienced. When he sees your lips twitch, he knows it's the same for you as well.

"Are we going or not?" You mumble, avoiding eye contact, a tinge of red still decorating your cheeks.

Childe crumbles into his hands at your deadly duality. One that comes for his enemies and one that comes straight for his heart.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshot #childe x reader #childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin oneshot #tartagila #mona genshin impact #Chonghyun #kaeya alberich #master diluc #venti genshin impact #fischl #lisa genshin impact #jean gunnhildr #fanfic

[hazelcephalopod]

The Great Hunt Ch 13-14

Strange folk in a strange land huh? Ok a long road to accepting who they are.

Disclaimer: this is my first read thru but I’ve watched all of the show thus far and been spoiled on some book things. So… I’m going to lean into that. Enjoy figuring out what I know, and what I think I know, and what I just don’t. Also s/x I add commentary when I edit.

Spoilers for the first and second book and all of season 1 under the cut. Potential spoilers for later books -idk if they’re light spoilers or not.

Well I guess I’ll tag and hopefully tumblr eventually fixes the tags. But hey at least it’s on time.

Ch 13: From Stone to Stone

I shall call this one glyph stone

POV Rand

“Loial and Hurin still lay on either side of him… but everyone else was gone. Soldiers, horses, his friends, everyone and everything gone.” -(Rand)

Dream?

Nope. Worse. Laying on a stone pillar that seems to have risen form nothing?¿?

“And about the rim, the trees stood blackened and twisted as if a firestorm had roared through them. Everything seemed paler than is should be… as if seen through mist. Only there was no mist.” -Tgh

See the pattern will force him to accept things enough without everyone else being just weird about it

… I guess maybe they don’t know that but uh… I don’t have to be rational I’m either then

Part of my thinks the seven could be a coincidence but more likely not. I think it’s part of the trap somehow.

Loial has seen a stone like this one in a book and part of the description read: “From Stone to Stone run the lines of “if,” between the worlds that be.”

So… some sort of portal then?

Ok. It has to do with the ability AoL Aes Sedai had to Travel. & maybe to travel… what now?… to different worlds.

There are different worlds?

I mean I guess there’s the Ways, which seems to be a different realm. Is the dream thing a realm too??

I can’t remember if I should know that yet?

“Rand’s skin prickled. *Aes Sedai used them in the Age of Legends, when there were male Aes Sedai.* He had a vague memory of the void closing around him as he fell asleep, filled with that uneasy glow.” -(Rand) after Loial says he doesn’t know why the stone would activate when no Aes Sedai were present

Oh! Does each choice branch off into a separate timeline? Ok. That old quandary

… yea they would not get that

Oh. Loial has never heard of anyone finding one of these stones before. So that does not help

Hurin dude, I am so sry for your wife and kids and now hoping the teenager can fix this. I don’t think he knows Rand can channel he just trusts authority and has decided authority rn is Rand.

His wife’s name is Melia btw

Yea that fair. At this point sure, lord yup.

Is this like a Tower of Babel reference? Cuz that seems like several languages

Yup. Channeling time

Well saidin is… very unpleasant. And oily apparently. & “The void shattered into a thousand razor shards, slicing his mind.” -(Rand) when he fails to channel

That’s apparently new for the void

Hurin…. Loial, yes. He’s got his hands pressed on the ground with his eyes shut. I’d assume he was maybe having a panic attack or needed a moment.

Where the hell are they?

Hurin can still smell Fain and the Trollocs but it’s feint and weird but seemingly the same direction?

The stones are actually older that the AoL and Aes Sedai then didn’t understand them. So uh… k. That’s fine /s

Rand just lying. I mean maybe he’ll be right the Power isn’t necessary to use them but he does not know that

Loial, for sure at least partially knows the truth

So normal terrain but everything is still that pale desaturated coloration. & “…no sign of anything made by men except the stone circle behind them. The sky was empty, no chimney smoke, no birds, only a few clouds and the pale yellow sun.”

… oh yea the sun is also weird here. Wherever here is

“Worst of all though, the land seemed to twist the eye… whenever Rand turned his head, things that appeared distant when seen from the corner of his eye seemed to rush toward him, to be nearer when he stared straight at them. It made for dizziness; even the horses whickered nervously…” -(Rand) and moving you head slower helps a little. But uh… that’s effed

Still south

I don’t see why that would be but k.

And ever onward south ( eventually they have to go west right?)

Ch 14: Wolfbrother

Perrin POV?! (I very quickly learn yes!)

Wolf.

Oh Mat is also loosing it. Yup. That’ll be the dagger sickness I imagine

Mm yup. They did just disappear without a trace. Which is… not good

S/x they do

Ohhh I think he would.

He didn’t but he was damn close already

Hurin tho? No.

That’s fair. Rand was there, at least in what he’d accepted, for the dagger and friendship. So… yea

Ah I see the boys theme is ‘wants to run away but can never escape the truth’

… narratively all of this a good way for the reluctant heroes to have to, be heroes tho. Like yea. It’s an interesting take, I do like it despite all my quips and complaining

“Serves me right for what I told Rand. I wish I could run.“ -(Perrin) thinking to himself

Meditation again to use powers.

…also a good way to access powers. Meditation is good

Perrins Wolfbrother name- Young Bull! (Editor note- no idea if I was supposed to know that)

So he’s got the wolf telepathy, super smelling and super sight with night vision -though not total dark vision.

The horrible-est smell is Fain.

“He felt the rage of the wolves, the hate. There were only two things wolves hated. All else they merely endured, but fire and Trollocs they hated, and they would go through fire to kill Trollocs.” -(Perrin) having begun using his Talent as a Wolfbrother to track the dagger. And save Mat

“…Fain’s scent had put them into a frenzy, as if they smelled something that made Trollocs seem natural and right.” -(Perrin) on the wolves

Always south. Where else to go? (West honestly)

Mat, really is like such a teenager. He does care at least. That’s nice. He just does not have a filter rn. ‘Hey you want aspirin? I’ve only got liquid and no measure cup for it. Just chug and eh, if you get knocked out you do’

Oh just admitting to that. Amazing! I love it! (Perrin telling Ingtar he’s a Wolfbrother)

Wtf?!

“Rumors. There was a Warder, a man called Elyas Machera, who some said could talk to wolves. He disappeared years ago.” -Ingtar having heard of powers like Perrin’s.

Well then

Wolves are good luck in the. Borderlands

Not going to tell anyone else. Of course

Gonna tell everyone he’s a sniffer at least

Shienarans just do not want to question shit. Honestly I get it. No one wants to be in charge here. The person is charge has the blame and the pressure

… yea actually dunno if I’d tell Mat either

Mat. Dude. You got an evil dagger curse on you. That is the most ridiculous for the five honestly.

That’s unfortunate you had to see that.

Hope they don’t loose the dagger

Moi… Verin?! Yes!

Interesting. She didn’t follow Moiriane and Liandrin.

Oh that’s foul. Oh. No…

Ah. Everyone wants Rand. Verin might be the one to find him

#series of many thoughts on twot #< block or filter to stop seeing these posts #Tgh #tgh spoilers #the great hunt #wot #the wheel of time #wheel of time #wot book spoilers #twot book #twot book spoilers

[dreamsclock]

Attention! New lore regarding the clock smp:

a new character has been introduced, dreamspot, a humble mentor figure whom clock respects as highly as glock, as well as dreamsblock, who clock seems very very interested in, to the point of reblogging 20 (and crashing my tumblr, fuck u) glock attempts to comfort the distressed block with water

there have been glimpses of a familiar face, dreams disks, a clone or past version of clock, perhaps even from a different timeline, who must be trapped in the void, suffering and begging for freedom

the balance of the universe may soon be upended by this, along with the looming threat and foreshadowing that schlock/schlong is not truly dead, or is coming back. Clock seems to think they are connected, and is arguing against a resurrection arc

clock and block finally formally meet, both very excited and honored, though also awkward

(sry I wrote this before I saw the new smp account lol, I’ll write my novel there next time)

things are heating up in the dreamsclock smp (really more of a universe than an smp idk why i called it smp whoops) and they’re only to get crazier!

#this is the best thing to ever happen to me it’s official #thanks for the idea >:) #SORRY BOUT THE TUMBLR #-> dreamsclock smp #-> weird0strawberry

[ickle-ronniekins]

duet | the fire in his veins

DUET MASTERLIST

desc: it’s the final year, and george wants to make things happen. but there are a lot of feelings hanging in the air, aren’t there? he’s stressed to the max, and it’s not helping that you are, too. your schedules don’t match up, umbridge is on his tail, and hormones are raging. he finds himself spreading himself far too thin and eventually things boil over and explode. he worries if you can both recover from it all. but when he holds you in his arms, he wonders if staying angry at one another would even be possible.

a/n: hello! it’s been a bit, sorry, i've been rubbish at writing this chapter. i had no inspiration. but then it struck! so sorry for the angst, except I'm not sorry at all -- it was needed. we’re back to the final year at hogwarts this year, loves, so we’re backtracking a bit, but we hope you enjoy. remember when y/n had visited the burrow the summer before seventh year and everything had seemed so perfect? l o l. enjoy, and please don’t hate me! ps: full masterlist is linked above if ya need a catch up!

word count: 5.3k (sry nt sry)

warning(s): angst and things

The corridors seemed weirdly empty as he strolled slowly through them. But they weren’t empty -- not in the slightest. Excited second and third years were scooting past the very nervous-looking eleven-year-olds on the steps leading up to their newest and greatest adventure. He found himself reminiscing, because how could he not? It was his seventh and final year, after all.

George found himself feeling a mixture of emotions as he entered the Great Hall -- sadness. Fear. Relief. Exhilaration.

But there was one thing he seemed to feel that was stronger than everything else. Stronger than the anxiety he was feeling that it was his final year at his favorite place. Stronger than the happiness he felt at the thought of him finally being able to pursue his dreams. Stronger than the fear he felt of the unknown that awaited him after leaving school.

He found you standing near your table with your usual smile painted on your face, the yellow ribbon tied in your hair, your hand on your hip. You threw your head back in laughter at something a fellow Hufflepuff had said, and he relished the thought of hearing it again. Not that it had been long, really. You’d only left the Burrow a week before the start of term in order to go home, grab any last minute belongings you might’ve left, and were about to take your usual spot next to him and Fred on the train, but much to George’s dismay, you were dragged away by your very dramatic housemates who had pulled you away, prattling on about it being the final year. You’d looked so painfully beautiful when you frowned at him, he couldn’t help but smile a bit. “Sorry”, you’d mouthed at him through the window of his compartment. George had just shrugged and smiled brightly as you were yanked by a very distraught looking girl with curly black hair, and he turned back to Fred who had been feverishly working on their inventions in the boxes placed at their feet. George had loads of work to do before the train arrived at Hogwarts. But he still couldn’t shake that painful twinge of jealousy that had overtaken him. Dramatic, yes. But couldn’t he just blame it on the love he felt instead?

When you looked up from your conversation and met his gaze, you dropped your arm and your eyes immediately softened. He felt the all too familiar butterflies begin to dance in his stomach -- the feeling he got whenever your lingering gaze had locked with his across large rooms. Yeah, he could absolutely blame it on love. Because that’s what this was, right? That’s all he seemed to feel for you. Love. Nothing but pure, genuine, head-over-heels, massive feelings of love. He noticed that grin he knew all too well spread itself across your face, and you began scooting your way through students to get to him. “Erm -- ‘scuse me -- sorry, love, trying to get to someone --” George’s heart had nearly constricted when you’d said the word love. He wanted you to call him that. He felt his cheeks flush cherry red at the thought, and thanked Merlin that neither you, nor Fred, nor anyone else could hear his embarrassing inner monologue.

“Okay, okay, so what did I miss on the train?” you asked, finally getting to him as you pushed your way past a group of Ravenclaws. “A hug, for one!”

You locked your arms around his shoulders, and he noticed you were standing on the tips of your toes in order to be able to hug him. It was so adorable, he could scream, but he reckoned that wouldn’t be the best thing to do in a room of crowded students. He slung his arms around your waist and breathed in the scent of your hair.

“Nothing too exciting,” he lied. He did not like the fact that Fred had sworn him to secrecy about their products and the fact that they’d be opening up a shop after graduating school -- or, perhaps, even sooner. You can’t say a word to anyone, Georgie! He’d shot Fred a quizzical look, with an eyebrow raised, and Fred had pointed a finger at him threateningly. No, not even Y/N. Not until the products are finished and we start testing them out on the first years. George had scoffed dramatically while Fred had fallen into a fit of laughter at his own joke. So keeping his word he’d made to his twin, George swallowed down all the words he wanted to say, and instead just said, “We missed you, though.”

“I’ve missed you too! Merlin, all the girls did the entire train ride is complain about it being the final year. They’re so silly! I will admit, I was sad at the end of last term,” you threw your hands up in surrender as George cocked his head to the side and smiled at you. He knew how much you’d cried thinking on it being the last and final year, “but I reckon we’ve got to make the most of it, haven’t we? Which is why --” you teasingly poked him in the ribs and echoed yourself from the conversation you’d held with Fred at the end of last term, “-- we’ve got to spend as much time together as we can!”

George felt his throat tighten a bit. Could he? Could he really spend as much time as possible with you while also focusing on the inventions, on the shop, all while keeping up his studies and staying out of trouble, and more importantly, detention? Bloody hell, he’d make himself do it, wouldn’t he?

Before he could answer, a very pompous ‘hem-hem’ came from a plump woman dressed obnoxiously in all pink as she scurried her way through students and over to the main table at the front of the hall. You and George both exchanged a look of disgust, and suddenly he didn’t feel so confident about this year anymore.

“Why,” you breathed, raising an eyebrow, “does she look like an advertisement for one of those medicines you take when you’re feeling ill?”

George could not help the very haughty laugh that involuntarily escaped his lips. A few students peered over at you both, and the sheer fact alone that you’d made him laugh just a few minutes in seemed to lighten his spirits tremendously.

The crowd of students in the middle of the Great Hall seemed to part like the red sea at the arrival of this woman. She shot incredibly fake grins at a few of the older students, who did not return her welcome, and she carried herself with such an air of arrogance that George swore he saw Dumbledore roll his eyes from next to McGonagall.

“Who is she?” you asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest and jutting out your hip. Both of you did not take your eyes off of the pink lady, and watched as she took her place at the Headmasters table. Oh, no.

And the laugh that had escaped George just a few seconds ago felt as though it was lightyears away. He shook his head and groaned audibly, thinking that there couldn’t possibly be another professor as awful as Professor Snape. Little did he know, she’d be even worse. “Think she’s our new worst nightmare.”

-- -

You were positively peeved, for lack of a better word. You were seventeen -- you were allowed to be dramatic, weren’t you? You flopped back onto your bed in a huff and placed a pillow over your face to muffle your scream -- and you screamed. Why was George being such a bloody idiot? Hadn’t you told him, multiple times, how much time you wanted to spend together this year? Your unwavering love for him aside, he was your best mate, and for Merlin’s sake, it was your final year at school! You’d both be off in a few months time, doing adult things and seeing one another significantly less, and this stupid boy could not comprehend what “hanging out” seemed to mean. Ugh.

“Heading down for lunch,” your dormmate said to you, “care to join?”

Begrudgingly you agreed, but only because you couldn’t stand the hunger that overtook you. You would’ve stayed there and yelled the entire afternoon if you could.

You felt a pang in your heart at the sight of him, surrounded by his siblings and his friends at the Gryffindor table. It was moments like these, moments of pure jealousy, that made you want to be a Gryffindor. You resented that very much. You loved being a Hufflepuff, but still. The idea of being able to see him in the early hours of the morning in the same common room, groggy from sleep with his (undoubtedly) adorable bedhead intrigued you to no end. You’d be able to see him more often than not, and you knew, with how the two of you got on, that you’d stay up until the late hours of the evening, sharing silly stories and joking until the sun rose.

But no. Instead, he was joking around with them, and you’d been yelling into the void in your dormitory.

You noticed that he and Fred were busy fiddling with something in their hands, as their fellow Gryffindors looked on in pure admiration. You rolled your eyes and made your way to the Hufflepuff table.

You sat down, willed yourself to not look and began to scoop considerable amounts of food onto your plate. You weren’t sure if it was the hunger that was overwhelming, or the jealousy. The anger. Regardless, you bit into your sandwich rather aggressively.

You let yourself be weak, just once, and turned to peer over at him again, hoping he’d meet your gaze, just like he always did. But this time, he didn’t. He was busy chatting animatedly with a few other seventh years -- you recognized a few of them from the Quidditch team, but most of them you didn’t know. The jealousy inside you spread through your bones like a rapid fire. You gulped down the rest of your pumpkin juice in a rage, swung your bag across your shoulder, and sauntered out of the Great Hall without making any eye-contact. It’s not like he’s looking anyway, you thought dramatically.

Little did you know, George watched you storm out of the Great Hall, and his heart and mind followed you all the way to your Transfiguration lesson, aching terribly along the way.

You hoped you wouldn’t run into him on your walk from Transfiguration to Potions, but luck didn’t seem to be on your side today.

“Hey!” he called out to you. A bright grin was painted across his face. He seemed far too happy for someone who’d just come from a lesson with Umbridge. You ignored his calls and made your way swiftly toward the dungeons, but he was quicker. He was panting when he finally caught up to you. Familiar hands grabbed your shoulders and you sucked in a breath. You turned to face him and scowled. He peered at you questioningly. “You alright? Why so glum?”

“Why d’you think?” you asked coolly. You pointed flatly toward the staircase. “Heading to Snape’s lesson.”

George furrowed his brows at you, seemingly taken aback by the irritated tone to your voice. You tried to soften, but you were still pretty angry. “Is everything alright? Haven’t seen much of you..”

“Well whose fault is that?” you snapped. You didn’t mean too, but the resentment was bubbling up inside you like that of a volcano -- you couldn’t help if you exploded. For years, you’d always felt tiny next to him, especially because his 6’3 frame could easily swallow you whole. But now, as he looked down at you with concern and guilt whilst you seemingly boiled over, you felt bigger and better. “I’ve tried spending time with you, George, but all you seem to want to do is be with other Gryffindors. I’ve tried to make plans, tried to sit with you at lunch, but Umbridge doesn’t let us..” your voice trailed off and you huffed a bit, “that’s besides the point. It doesn’t help that we’re both on completely different schedules and the DA meetings are the only time I get to see you, and even that is barely anything because we’re so bloody busy trying to learn!” Most of his lessons were different than yours, since you were now en route to becoming a Healer. “I told you at the beginning of term that I wanted to try and spend as much time as we possibly could together, but apparently to you, that just means insignificant chats in the corridors between lessons and smiles across classrooms and not much more than that.”

You were actually pretty impressed with yourself that you’d been able to say that all in one breath; you breathed in deeply and looked up at him, a very childlike pout on your face, and watched as he uncomfortably adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder and shifted his eyes toward the floor. You knew you’d hit home. Guilt. That was always his look for guilt.

“I’ve been a right awful friend. I know.”

And just like that, all feelings of aggravation seemed to subside and your temper seemingly calmed down a bit, just by the sheer fact that his voice sounded so small. So innocent. So pained.

You shook your head and scoffed at yourself. A few passerby stared at the two of you. “Look. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have blown up at you. That was wrong of me. Think I’m just dreading this Potions lesson.” You let out a sigh and the two of you laughed softly at one another. “I just -- I just miss you, is all.”

“You don’t have to apologize -- you’re right. I miss you, too. We haven’t spent nearly as much time together as I would have liked. I’m the one who’s sorry. The fault is completely my own.” You hated how adult he sounded, but you couldn’t help but grin at him -- not when you were nearly swimming in the innocence of his chocolate brown eyes. In a quieter voice, he continued, “I’ll explain it all tonight. You free?”

“Erm --” you looked around you to make sure nobody was listening. You gave him an answer that sounded more like a question. “Yes?”

“Meet me near the Architect of Hogwarts statue after the feast.. I’ll sneak you up to my common room. I’ve got something to tell you. To show you.”

Your heart soared at the thought. Maybe luck was on your side. You tried to push all hopes and wishes of him confessing his love to you aside. It was probably something else. And yet, you couldn’t help the very bright smile you gave him. To think, just seconds ago, you’d been so angry. It was difficult to stay mad at George Weasley.

“Yeah?” you asked, trying to hide the eagerness in your voice.

He placed a kiss onto your cheek when the bell signaled the start of the next lesson in exactly two minutes. Merlin, you needed to get down to the dungeons, but how could you now that your feet were cemented into the ground? Your breath hitched at the feeling of his lips softly grazing your skin. The upturned corners of his mouth made the butterflies in your stomach swirl. To think that Gilderoy Lockhart had won Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award, when George’s was far more charming, more intriguing. So much easier to melt in. “See you later?”

“Yeah,” you replied breathlessly. He then squeezed your shoulder and headed off in the opposite direction toward his next lesson. Maybe you could tell him, perhaps, if the theatrics of the night were exciting enough. You relished the thought of sneaking him up to your dormitory and cuddling up next to him in your bed, instead of another night yelling straight into your pillow, crying over the boy you loved so very deeply.

He turned around at the other end of the corridor and winked at you before vanishing completely down the next hallway.

Somehow, the prospect of spending the next hour and a half in Potions didn’t seem so awful after all.

-- -

The Quidditch grounds were really cold. So much so that you were certain you couldn’t feel your fingers. You pulled your hat tighter over your head and breathed into your hands. And yet, you were there, because you needed to be, didn’t you? You needed to be a supportive Hufflepuff for Gryffindor in this match versus Slytherin. For Fred. For Harry. For George.

It had been a few weeks since George had told you all about the inventions he and Fred had been working on, and how they were going to open up a shop after graduating. It was thrilling, the entire idea of it, and you noticed a change in him when he’d animatedly told you everything there was to know that night in the bustling Gryffindor common room. His eyes were wide with electrification. The fire in his veins set him aflame.

“This is wicked! Which one is your favorite?”

“Love potions, I think.”

“You guys are bloody brilliant! I’m so proud of you!”

That sheepish, childlike grin crept onto his face as a feeling of warmth flooded him at your compliment. “Thanks, Y/N.”

And it really was brilliant -- it was unfair, you thought, that people only saw George and Fred as pranksters. As the two blokes who always make people laugh. As the ones who always end up in detention. They were so much more than that, weren’t they? They were so incredibly brilliant -- not to mention the type of magic they needed to understand and manage to do in order to create some of these inventions was beyond some of your other fellow seventh years. It was incredibly advanced, especially for two seventeen-year-olds. Why didn’t more people understand this?

You were so proud. How could you not be? You relished the thought of one day being able to visit them and their booming business. It was such an exciting endeavor that you simply felt nothing more than pure adoration toward them both.

And here, now, watching them impress you yet again with their incredible Quidditch skills, you wanted to yell. Look! Look at them both! Look at Fred and his fantastic flying skills as he zooms between other players, leaving dust in their wake! Look at George and how he’s able to pummel a bludger across the length of a field and barely break a sweat whilst doing it!

You grinned at the thought; they really were both more than just the surface of their personalities. They were so much more than just twin brothers. You wished people would notice their differences the way you did.

Things had still been tense, though. You now understood why George had been so occupied and not able to spend as much time with you as you’d both wanted. You kept on apologizing -- you felt so bloody awful about snapping at him that one day in the corridor -- and he kept placing his hand to your knee and telling you to not think on it anymore.

But he’d made an effort, and so did you. Lunches near the Black Lake even in the cooler autumn air, late night strolls throughout the castle, choosing seats closer to one another in lessons to share those smiles you secretly thought about nearly every moment of every day. You loved them far much more than you’d let on.

You were pulled from your thoughts when Ginny gently elbowed you in the ribs. You felt your face flush and thanked Merlin that she couldn’t hear your thoughts. When you turned to look at her, though, her face was flooded with worry. You followed her gaze and noticed a very angry Harry, Fred, and George making a beeline right toward Draco. They looked so incredibly different. So angry. So animalistic.

Before you could register what was happening, Ginny grabbed your arm and tugged you down toward the field.

-- -

George found himself yelling swears he knew his mother would most certainly not approve of, and if she’d heard him, he’d be on the receiving end of a very angry Howler at any moment.

He couldn’t help himself though. A new, dangerous type of fury took him over. How dare someone as misguided as Draco Malfoy insult his family? He’d taken the insults before. He’d heard them and let them roll off his back. He’d ignored the snickers. He’d ignored the gentle pokes and prods people had tried to make to piss him off. He hadn’t wanted to be a bad influence on Ron and Ginny, especially when they were younger and first starting out. He’d warned Fred not to let it bother him, either. But now, with his stress levels through the roof about his studies, and the shop, the inventions, his over-the-top emotions when it came to you -- he felt like he was about to explode. And unlucky for him, Malfoy was in his line of fire.

He felt his blood boiling. He didn’t know where Fred was and quite honestly he didn’t care -- he grabbed Malfoy by the collar of his shirt and lifted him right off of the ground. “How dare you?” he yelled -- his voice sounded foreign and ferocious in his own ears as it echoed across the pitch. Next to him, Harry was red faced and vibrating with rage. For the first time in his entire life, George felt nothing but pure, genuine hatred toward this despicable excuse of a human. The very terrifying and unnatural feeling of wanting to inflict pain and hurt coursed through his body. He wanted to punch Malfoy straight in the jaw, he wanted to kick him in the ribs enough times to break them, he wanted to watch the blood trickle from his mouth.

He felt nothing but loathing.

It was before George could fully register his own actions that you were there -- in front of him -- your eyes flooded with concern and worry as you ripped his hands off of Malfoy’s chest.

“George, calm down,” you said. Next to him, Ginny and Hermione were attempting to tame Harry, as Ron watched, wide eyed and scared. Fred was just barely being held back by Katie, Alicia and Angelina, the veins in his arms were pulsating with rage. You grabbed the collar of George’s uniform and he seemed to come out of his trance. “It’s alright -- you’ve got to stop, this isn’t you --”

He felt as if his angered self had stepped completely out of his physical body when you brought your hands to his cheeks. Your eyes were bloodshot and he felt a pang in his heart to know that you might’ve been crying at this whole exchange. He immediately began scolding himself, especially when he felt a firm yank on his sleeve.

He was dragged immediately toward the castle, with Harry on the other side of him, leaving you standing shrunken on the field amongst a shocked group of students. He turned around once and locked in eye contact. There was a look of disappointment in your eyes and he felt his heart sink quite quickly into his stomach.

Your eyes were the last thing he could focus on before preparing himself for a severe punishment that no doubt awaited him and his ridiculous actions.

-- -

You were sitting on Ginny’s bed, twiddling your thumbs and tapping your feet melodically against the hardwood floor beneath you, waiting for her to return with any sort of news.

It had been a strange, terrifying ordeal, watching the boys nearly throw themselves at Draco like that. They’d looked like they were about to commit some type of murder. You felt your heart begin to pound at the sheer thought of it all. The animalistic look in his eye, the subhuman way he’d grabbed Malfoy by the collar of his uniform, like he wasn’t really here. He wasn’t really present. It made your skin tingle in the worst of ways.

Just then, Ginny popped her head in. “They’re here.”

By the time you got downstairs to the very desolate looking Gryffindor common room, Fred had already huffed his way up to the boys dormitory. George, though, was slumped in an armchair, rubbing his temples generously and ripping away parts of his uniform. He was incredibly disheveled looking.

“Georgie?”

You wanted to yell at him. You wanted to scream at him so bloody terribly. How could you have been so stupid! You could’ve been expelled, you silly boy! You could’ve been hurt! But when he looked up, his eyes distant and exhausted and painted, all you saw flooding through his expression was pure guilt. He’d probably gotten enough tongue lashings for one evening. You sighed and slid yourself next to him on the couch.

He let his head fall into his hands. “I’m a bloody idiot. I know.”

“Not what I was going to say.”

“No?”

You sighed again and placed your hand gently to his knee. You could’ve sworn he’d sucked in a breath at the exact moment of contact, but you ignored it. “What.. what happened out there?”

“Draco and his bloody comments,” George snapped angrily. You jumped a bit at the harshness in his voice and he immediately retreated, placing his hand gently on top of yours and apologizing. He took in a deep breath. “Just -- couldn’t handle it anymore. ‘m sorry if I scared you.”

“You really did, you know.”

He fell backwards onto the couch and shut his eyes tight.

You continued when he didn’t, “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Wouldn’t it have been better if I’d come out of it with a black eye, or something?”

You both laughed a bit and you traced your fingers across his cheekbones slowly. He swallowed thickly. “No. It wouldn’t have been better. Don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“I know.”

You were both silent.

“Got banned from Quidditch.”

You shot up straighter, shocked. “What?”

“Remember when I said the first night that Umbridge was going to be our worst nightmare?” he sighed, shaking his head. “Never knew I was going to be so bloody right.”

“George, I’m -- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s my own fault.”

You both sat uncomfortably in the very thick silence that hung in the air between you. George sat up and straightened himself out. He ran his hands very quickly through his messy hair and took a few deep breaths as if he was still trying to calm himself down from the events that had just transpired. You reckoned he should be more upset about being banned from Quidditch. It was his favorite thing. Why was he not bursting at the seams with anger? Deep in your soul, you knew this was different. This wasn’t about Quidditch, or the fight with Draco, or the tenseness of it being your last and final year. This was more.

“George,” you breathed, preparing yourself for whatever was to come, “just tell me.”

It felt strange when he took your hands in his. You weren’t a couple. Not even close, no matter how many nights you dreamt of it, no matter how much of your days were spent imagining it, no matter how much you tried to will it into existence -- he wasn’t yours and you weren’t his. So this, him holding your hands and peering at you on the couch in the desolate common room, felt fraudulent. Selfishly, though, you wanted it to last forever.

“You know,” he started, and his voice sounded hoarse, “the plans that Fred and I have.”

“Of course I do.”

“About the inventions. And the shop.”

“Yes, yes, I know all of this.”

You tried not to let your anxious mind meander whilst he took his sweet time telling you what he needed too.

“We’ve been talking a lot lately. Fred and I. Which I suppose is why I’ve been so bloody stressed and just… lashed out at Quidditch today. We’ve had a change of plans.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and swallowed over that all too familiar lump in your throat that appeared each time you got nervous. Your hands felt like ice. “What kind of change?”

He squeezed your hands. He took a deep breath. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “We’re leaving sooner than we thought. End of April. Right after the Easter holidays.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing -- not really, anyway. Which is why you felt so embarrassed when his facial expression didn’t change as you laughed. You shook your head and smiled at him, because this had to be a joke, right? You’d been talking with him about graduation since the day you met one another. He wasn’t really planning on giving that all up?

“You’re.. you’re serious?”

He just nodded and bit his lip nervously.

“Um..” you hated the fact that you were brought to tears so quickly. If you hadn’t been so emotional you would’ve been able to notice just how wobbly your voice sounded and you would’ve been able to scold yourself. “I’m.. so happy for you guys.”

George reached out to try and pull you into an embrace. “Y/N--”

“No, really, I am,” you bit down hard on your lip to try and push back any tears rising to the surface of your eyes. You didn’t want him to see you cry. You couldn’t. But you could only do so much before the tears were escaping you without any effort, and you were letting George pull you into his chest as he traced gentle circles into your back.

Through a few choked sobs, you tried to tell him how you felt, truthfully -- that you’d never been more proud of him than in this moment, that this endeavor was just the beginning for them, that you would support him and Fred with every ounce of your entire being, that you were so thrilled to watch as their business would no doubt boom and their inventions would take the Wizarding World by storm. That he doesn’t know how bloody brilliant he is. That he doesn’t know just how much you love him and believe in him. But you couldn’t seem to find the right words. You couldn’t seem to speak coherently. All that seemed to trickle from you were tears. Somehow, though, you had a strong feeling that he already knew all of those things. “I’m really going to miss you,” you cried.

You felt him tense up in your arms and you just held him tighter. You rolled your eyes at your own dramatic self. He sniffled a bit when he breathed, “I’m really going to miss you, too.” But when his voice sounded just as wobbly as yours, you reckoned it was okay to cry if he was going to cry, too.

The two of you stayed there like that for a while. Gryffindors seemed to flood in and out, not questioning the tiny Hufflepuff girl in the middle of their common room. And for the rest of the evening, as the two of you had both calmed down a bit, you reminisced. You both shared stories about your first thoughts on Hogwarts when you’d arrived as a first year. You both talked about the last seven years. You both told one another what had been your favorite parts of your years at school, and what you’d disliked about the castle and curriculum. What you wouldn’t miss at all. What you’d miss the most.

One another.

That night, when you went to bed, it was restless. Disturbed. Nothing, if not very, very awful. But when you did finally catch some sleep, you dreamt very vividly of the thirteen-year-old boy who caught your attention in Charms class with that silly paper swan, and how you’d continued to fall in love with him every single day since that chance encounter.

tag list: @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @harrysweasleys @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @geeksareunique @insearchofnewdreams @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @lumos-barnes @thatfuckingliardavidtennant @slytherinqween @xinyourdreamsx @skiving-snackboxess @wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem @diary-of-an-onliner @answer-the-sirens @woakiees @black-widow-fangirl @theheirofnightandday @summerstardust @whysoseriouspadfoot @chocok22 @myhopesareanchoredinyou @siriusblackisme @illusivedaydreamer @zeeneee @writingwitchly @wolfpotter12 @obsessedwithrandomthings @carolinesbookworld @shadowsinger11 @pit-and-the-pen @summer-writes @peachesandpinks @gweaslvy @alpinewinchester @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @parker-potters

#george weasley #fred weasley #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #george weasley x reader #george weasley reader insert #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins fanfic #weasley twins fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #hp imagine #this takes place in appleton wisconsin shoutout 2 ma discord gurls

[its-sixxers]

Fic Writer Interview

tagged by @glowstickia​ and @valkyriejack​, bless <3

tagging uuuuuh anyone who wants to do this it is long im sry

Name: Six

Fandoms: Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines, Fallout, Elder Scrolls, and probably going to have a billion oneshots/short fics for various other fandoms

Where you post: AO3 (name’s hartstrings over there) and here on tumblr!

Most Popular One-shot: A little Butch & Charon piece called Sidelines! I know, I’m surprised too.

Most Popular Multichap: l’Appel du Vide (my Deacon x Sole multichap) edges out Too Late to Love You (my postcanon Boone centric FNV fic), though it has the benefit of being older. :V

Favorite story you’ve written so far: This is like asking me to pick my favorite child. I’m going to actually go with Half Light (my Nosferatu Fledgling x Nines fic), I’ve had the most fun writing it so far and it’s incredibly self indulgent. My treat to me. ;)

Fic you were nervous to post: The Sun is Now Fading (pre-canon Fledgling x Nines fic). My first fic in the VTMB fandom, my first time writing something modern era in a WHILE, a somewhat weird premise, close to my heart and also it has an explicit scene in it which I’m always nervous to have haha. I’m happy I did tho!

How do you choose your titles: Usually song lyrics or words/phrases that describe the general idea, especially for one-shots. l’Appel du Vide translates to “Call of the Void” which I thought was a good metaphor for Deacon finally letting himself get attached to anything again.

Do you outline: Y’all are going to kill me but I only started outlining with Half Light. I am thankful I do now, it makes life a lot easier and I can pump out chapters faster while keeping all my story threads intact!

Complete: 8/11, though most of those are oneshots.

In progress: 3/11: Half Light (actively updating), Too Late to Love You (on hiatus til my Fallout kick returns) and Leave a Light (ditto, but it’s more of an anthology kinda thing so no one’s left hanging). Yes, TLTLY readers, you can break my kneecaps, I am sorry. ,_,

Coming soon/not yet started: I got a few ideas:

An unnamed Fallout 3 postcanon Charon x Lone fic. Lizzy (my lone wanderer) loses Charon to some assholes who know how his contract works, she follows them all the way to the Commonwealth and tries to figure out how to break his conditioning and free him.

Too Late to Love You sequel. The Courier returns to the Mojave.

Jade Empire fic, Jen Zi x Sagacious Zu, angst pain bomb

In similar angst pain bomb veins, considering a collection of Martin x HoK snippets

Lastly and most recently, a Skyrim fic starring my two OCs, Dragonborn and Master of the Thieves Guild respectively. I need more Nord x Dunmer goodness in my life ok

Prompts?: I do reeeeaaaaally short answers to prompts but if they’re good I’ll do them! If I get an especially good one I might go full oneshot with it.

Upcoming work you’re most excited about: Oh man oh man. Probably the Fallout 3 fic I’m kicking around though that’s far from set in stone yet.

#long post #fanfic

[daily-shade]

Answering Asks!

Hello friends! Resh here! I have a bunch of asks in my inbox and they’re really nice but if I answer them with a picture the story is gunna go out of wack so I’m just going to answer them all at once to clean things up, take my stress down by like 75%, and make sure people don’t feel left out or forgotten! Also, if I did not answer your ask or get to it on here or my blog it was probably too similar to a previous ask to answer, so I deleted it. Do not let this discourage you from asking something else though! With that said. Onwards!

Anon: So does Shade officially hate anons now? Some of them basically have ruined Shade's life and stuff so I wouldn't be surprised.

Shade does not hate anons. Shade has a very limited emotional capacity and cannot feel feelings the same way you or I might feel such things, due to their void like nature, but the small bit of soul in them will allow them to feel a more complex array of emotions. That said, the anons irritate them a bit, but they do not hate them.

Anon: Hey! Why not you accept the flower? You know How hard to bring it from Resting ground to Forgotten Crossroad!

Anon: *gently pushes the flower somewhat inside shade*

The flower arc was weird and got cut short unfortunately haha, whoops. I have too many asks about it that are more roleplay and less of a question, so I cannot answer any of them at this time due to the fact that the timeline would be confusing if I did. I would be interested in another round of exploring how Shade reacts to the flowers though, so feel free to ask something to get a saga started!

 Anon: I can't help but think of shade but they're a melon ball

Anon: Hes a salad. Liquid salad. I dunno what that means but its just what he is now. Like a smoothie

Anon: Forbidden Fuit Gummy.....

Anon: No, Shade is now a shake.

Anon: *sips*

I tried like fifteen times to draw shade as a desert, a fruit, a melon ball, a parfait, ice-cream, jello and a bunch of other food items due to the colorful nature of the lifeblood saga, but it never worked asdjhk. I’m sorry to everyone that asked about it! >x< I just didn’t know how to draw any of the requests!

 Curious Anonynous: Oh! long time no see to this blog. Welcome to Biology 101 everyone! Today we will talk about fungus. Could you draw some ordicordicep (umm I can’t spell it) to illustrated?

I thought about answering this for the longest time but I just can’t anjsk it wouldn’t fit with the blog and I have no interest in drawing this subject at this point in time, sry!

 Anon: are you squishy like mashed potato

Have you ever felt a bunny? Or something super insanely soft? Shade feels like that, but with no solid mass on the inside. They are also very cold!

#Ask #Ooc

[kcnoel7]

I know these are awful but I love them!! Sans is SO MUCH FUN to draw!! That last one is my favorite sans drawing I did. But the first one is my favorite for the girl. I don’t have a name for her yet. I’m thinking Amelia?

Yes she’s sorta like a dreamuur and yes she’s knitting in that second one. I’m still working out the backstory but she’s probably going to be a very distant cousin to Asriel or something like that. She’s most likely going to have ancestry of alphys’ race. I like to think of Alphys as a “lesser dragon” so yeah. Small not very magically inclined dragons. Which is why she’s not as tall as a dreamuur would be when fully grown.

She also can’t use magic without getting sick as a child. She eventually builds some tolerance to her condition and can use small amounts of magic as an adult, but relies on her spear in combat.

Her backstory after entering the underground at a young age is that Asgore became her guardian soon after Chara and Asriel died. He eventually decided to adopt her. With her condition of becoming sick when using magic Asgore had Dr. Gaster come check up on her frequently. Sometimes this would happen at times when Sans and Papyrus weren’t in school so they’d come along. (They’d still be young. Pap would most likely be about her age with sans being a few years older) They became curious of each other and became friends.

Time went on but they stopped seeing each other after gaster became the void. Not wanting to deal with the grief of losing someone who was basically an uncle and the absence of her two best friends she distanced herself. Became cynical and angry for no good reason. Asgore didn’t help at first because he believed that she just needed time. She didn’t get better soon.

Asgore kept in contact with Sans and papyrus and would occasionally invite them for tea or visit their home. Amelia would attend as well, but grew distant. It would be years before Amelia and Sans would renew their friendship. Once that happened Asgore hired Sans as Amelia’s personal guard after some stuff imma not mention happened.

Amelia was afraid that Asgore would have her be the next leader of monster kind so she decided to join the royal guard in an attempt to avoid it. She trained alongside Papyrus by Undyne. Sans wouldn’t be a good teacher for her because his combat is magic based and she can’t use that yet. So she learns more physical combat from undyne.

Oh, and that spear I have her holding is a weapon Sans will conjure for her when battle is initiated. After all, any time they’d be in a mildly threatening situation Sans will be at her side.

Oh, and when she does learn how to use her magic without nearly dusting herself she has green souls magic. She uses it mostly for healing, flying, and blocking attacks. And her magic is like, not that bright obnoxious lime green. It’s a soft, muted, sage green.

I feel like I should say more about her personality. Once she rekindled her friendship with sans she also became friends with Papyrus again. Pap had a huge influence on her and helped her out of her poor mental state. He also taught her something she’ll take to the grave. I bet you know what it is. “Anyone can be a good person if they just try.” But she has a flipped version to that too. That everyone also has bad in them. But she mostly has this thought in mind because sometimes sans will say he’s a bad person and she’ll go something like “everyone has the potential for bad in them but it take a good person to resist that and help and protect others” sry that’s poorly worded.

One more thing about her, she adores puns and dad jokes. And I have this image in my head where Sans, Asgore, and Amelia would be talking and Asgore would say something like “This old goat” (referring to himself) and the two would slowly start laughing then end up laughing so hard they’re on the ground crying. I’m smiling thinking about it lol

#undertale #undertale sans #i was bored #fanart #ut fanart #undertale fanart #undertale au #magic #art #hand drawn #im bad at art

[aftonfictive]

a GREAT MANY foxes! there’s context so here’s a readmore

The Funtimes are part of an AU. tldr: they’re wearable! V wears Lolbit, and Sylvia (pictured x2) wears Foxy. (Try not to think too hard about the amount of changes you'd need to make to even begin to fit an adult in a suit of FT Foxy's size (even someone as petite as Sylvia). She already has to put her long hair up super tight.)

The changes in stability + structure also allow for increased mobility (SPRINTBIT.) 

also mangles and ha ha lemon demon reference

sry for constant grey void background btw

#lolbit #the mangle #funtime foxy #fnaf #/ #// #my art

[backtothestart02]

Arms Around Me - 1/1 | westallen fanfiction

A/N: All right, Anon! I hope this satisfies!!! Thanks for the request! (sry, it’s not longer, but I think I like how it turned out!)

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Synopsis: Iris dwells on how Barry makes her feel safe.

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“There’s so much out there for us to be afraid of, and the thought keeps me up at night.”

“How do you ever get back to sleep?”

-

Everybody knows that touch is Barry’s love language. If he likes you, you get anywhere from a pat on the back to a hug – to a kiss, if you’re Iris West-Allen. But what nobody has yet to figure out, except maybe her dad Joe West, is that touch is also Iris’ love language. At least when it comes to Barry Allen.

Growing up, she was always the one protecting him: from bullies, from her dad, from the judgment of those who would never dare to believe in the impossible. Some would say she didn’t really feel safe or protected by him until he became the Flash, but that just wasn’t true. Barry had always been her safe space, her solid ground, since the moment they’d met. Since before all the darkness that followed.

When Barry talked fast in a language that surely couldn’t be English, Iris was amused, and often laughed. When his eyes lit up and he smiled at her, she smiled, and her heart skipped a beat. When he hugged her, she felt warm and content and happy. When he kissed her, she melted into him and let him dissolve her into oozy goo. And when he made love to her, there was nothing that existed but the two of them. There was a protective bubble around them that not even the most urgent emergency could break. It was his beautiful green eyes staring into her soul, his body giving her pleasure beyond measure - and truly, Iris couldn’t imagine anyone else giving her something as heavenly as this.

She’d denied it until shortly before they started dating, but she always ached to touch him. He was her best friend in the whole world, and always had been, but as just friends she hadn’t been able to touch him in all the ways one can touch another person.

Well, I’m not in love with him or attracted to him, she would lie to herself.

But she would dream about touching him. Her dreams were safe from prying eyes or interrogations.

Somewhere deep down, she’d known he was the Flash from the beginning. Not a single other person had inspired in her the need to touch them the way Barry had, except for the Flash. And as it turned out, they were one and the same. She’d been mad as hell that he’d kept the secret from her, but also somewhat relieved…and scared. Because she knew she’d felt the same admiration and awe for the Flash as she’d felt for Barry; the heart-racing, lust-brewing, kiss-me-now feelings were a different matter. Now, there was no denying they were there. They’d been brought to the surface by Barry’s disguise, and there was no coming back from that.

Iris has always liked to snuggle, and Barry has too. When they’re together –especially as a couple; no longer afraid of crossing any lines – it increases tenfold. Iris puts on a brave face, but without Barry beside her, she falls apart. Not on the surface where she has responsibilities, but inside where her heart is breaking without him. She’s lost him so many times, sometimes she wonders if it would be better not to have him at all to avoid the pain. But she throws the thought away as soon as it enters her mind. She would be so lonely, so empty, so void of passion without Barry in her life to share it with.

So when he sneaks up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist, causing a giggle to spill out of her; when she gasps, shaking, awake suddenly from a nightmare in the middle of the night, and he pulls her to him while still half asleep; when he presses his lips to her forehead or her shoulder or nuzzles his face in her neck… She feels grounded, protected, brave, unafraid, complete.

It makes her think that maybe touch isn’t her love language, after all. Maybe it’s Barry Allen’s touch, and without it, her life would shatter.

-

“Barry’s by my side.”

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

#iris west #iris west allen #westallen #backtothestart02 fanfiction #westallen fanfiction #fanfiction #introspective