#I tried to colour that drawing so many times but it just wants to stay lineart if

[wilimia]

I could’ve sworn I had a request for Four in my ask box but apparently not. Here he is anyways.

#stupid old TikTok meme please get it #I tried to colour that drawing so many times but it just wants to stay lineart if #wilimia art #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu four

[bloomingdog]

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 — 𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

data: your basic florist au, bit of angst, identity reveal, all that stuff. 4k words, no use of Y/N.

You know him, you know what the looks like at the very least. Once a week—the day never stays the same—him and a group of other instrument-carrying people go into the small venue in front of your shop at nine in the evening, an hour after closing the shop, when you’re about to head home. One early morning, out of curiosity, you checked the schedules adhered and covering the roller shutter in a poor attempt to find who this mysterious guy was. You found no useful information in that regard, you did foind, however, that the club opened at ten and most concerts held there started at least half an hour later. With that new gathered intel your best guess was that they came early to get everything set or a rather quick sound-check.

The venue is on one of the corners that limit the four way pedestrian crossing, the two corners on either side both hold pubs, and diagonally there’s you. “For the Roses” is a name given by its old owner, a sweet lady—and Joni Mitchell fan—you had worked for since you were seventeen, and four years later she had decided it was time to retire. For the last five months it’s been just you, it was easier to take care of it when you were two people working, that much is true, but having to close the shop has given you staring privileges. Years ago, when you first started working here the placement of the shop seemed rather odd, between clubs, pubs and the many other forms of amusement, this, however, was a strategical position. A big part of the clientele consisted of repenting boyfriends and enamoured halves of a first date, and they kept the business afloat.

You recognise him the moment he walks in.

“Hello! How may I help you?” The clock ticks away the last minutes before closing as you try to put on your cheeriest voice.

“Hi, sorry about comin’ in so late. My mate’s playing a gig, I just want some flowers to throw on stage, whole dramatics and all.” His voice is smooth with only the slightest rasp to it. He’s a fun last client.

“Do you want the classic roses then?”

“Nah don’t bother, give me the leftovers.” There are one or two extra cuttings and a bouquet that never got picked up you wouldn’t mind getting rid of. 

You excuse yourself to pick out the best leftover flowers you could in an attempt to make a half-decent bouquet. He’s oggling your shop, he’s particularly eye-catching inside your light coloured, slightly old-fashioned establishment. He likes it there, it’s cosy, the floors are filled with different types of flower arrengements and the walls display an amalgamation of different decorations gathered throughout the years, his inspection is only interrupted by your coming back behind the counter.

“Here, I tried to make it as cohesive as I could.”

“It’s alright, love, it’s gonna get thrown anyway.” Oh, that pet name went straight to your chest.

“It felt unprofessional not to give you at least a small sample of my usual, better, quality.” He gave a side smile as a response.

“How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house, no worries, I wouldn’t make you pay for only scraps.”

“That’s quite nice, take this as a tip, then.” He slid a twenty pound note on the counter, right before turning around a saying his goodbyes with a single wave of his hands.

Spinning the sign at the glass door so it reads “Closed” you turn to sweeping the floor and leaving your workplace as neat as possible, you hum along to the song playing from your phone on the counter. The 20 dollars he gave you felt a bit too much, not that you’re going to complain, not with the cost of everything, a flower shop isn’t a luxurious job to have, so it’s much appreciated. 

Drawing the curtain-like metal you spot a group of people walking into the club, one of them must be his friend.

A mere day later, he’s back, making the dainty bells above the door chime.

“Hello! Got another show you need to throw flowers at?” You quip and he chuckles.

“Nah. Only wanted to get actual flowers to have a good reason to ask you out.” He’s confident, maybe overly so, and Hobie is well aware of that, it’s not often that his confidence fails him, though. You look surprised before laughing, it’s ridiculous.

“And what were you thinking of getting?”

“I was hoping you could recommend me something.”

“Roses are usually the go-to flower, although I much prefer freesias.”

“Sick, I’d like a single freesia, please.” He says it in an overly polite manner, the whole situation is laughable.

“That’ll be two pounds.” You say as you hand him the flower.

“Here you go.” You mutter a thank you for an answer. “My band’s playing tonight, at ten, just on the other street, you could come and we could get a drink after.”

No way you’re attending a club on a Wednesday night, with a stranger nonetheless. 

“Sure.” 

“Sweet, I’ll see you. My name’s Hobie by the way.”

And it sounds like proper fun, really.

You’ve managed to avoid the biggest wave of people going home during rush hour and, thankfully, your ride home is as pleasant as the tube allows it to be and yet, you’re restless. His invite plays around in your mind. He’s handsome, that’s for sure, and it would satiate your curiosity on the other side it would also make you tired for work the next day, you’re too old for that, you think and softly laugh at your own joke. The walk home gives you time to ponder on wasted opportunities and the best years of your life, your flat instead greets you with the promise of a reheated dinner and an eight-hour-long sleep which for a moment makes you think about ditching him. 

The commute back feels longer than it usually does. You ate in a rush and got ready far too fast after your flatmate complained about needing to use the bathroom. Your phone marks 10:05PM, fashionably late. You’re thankful the show hasn’t started by the time you sit by the bar, ordering a beer. You still haven’t decided if it’s brave or cocky to ask someone out to your own show.

The whirring of a guitar being plugged signals the beginning of the show.

“Hello, we’re The Spider-Slayers! One two three!” Is your only warning before they start playing. They’re quite good, you have to admit, Hobie, as you’ve recently learned he’s named, exudes power and confidence while on stage, he’s rather skilled. It’s enjoyable, half of the audience is too plastered—it's only ten in the evening—to pay attention to the actual music and are merely glad to have a loud noise playing for them, but they’re well-liked, no doubt an established part of the community. It passes faster than you had anticipated, not even an hour later he’s walking your way while another band prepares to play.

He’s sweaty as he sits down and orders a rum and coke, he looks at you questioning if you also want one. “Make it two.” He indicates the bartender. “Did you like it?” 

He’s tall but not intimidating in the slightest, the metal in his face a contrast to all of his warm side smiles. 

“Yes!” You’re quick to answer. “It was really nice, you guys are good.” He fully smiles at the compliment, he’s got a pretty smile.

“Thanks. I forgot to ask your name earlier, sorry about that.”

“No worries, it’s Y/N.”

“Pretty.” It’s flirty. 

“Did your mate like the flowers?” You ask as the man behind the bar hands you your drinks.

“Totally, made a mess on stage and everything. She was grateful, seriously, funny and praising in equal parts, the bouquet was beautiful too, such a shame it ended like that.” You laugh at that. “How’s it working at a flower shop?”

“Good, actually, better than one good expect, I’d say it’s one of the better retail jobs out there.”

“Seems hard.”

“It is at the beginning, you should’ve seen some of my first arrangements, they were bloody awful, I’m still wondering how we didn’t get any complaints.” It’s Hobie’s turn to laugh.

“You’ve made some improvement then, your shop’s beautiful.” You beam and thank him, you’re proud of the way it’s looking these days. “How’d you end up working there? Do you need a degree to be a florist?”

“Not really, no. I’ve taken a couple courses but for the most part I was trained by my old boss.”

“Hm.” He nods. “Strange place to set up a flower shop, innit? I see you closing all the time and wonder who in their right mind would think of opening it at a nightlife epicenter.” Good to know you’re not the only observer.

“You’d think so! We get a lot of our clientele thanks to that, not all flower shops open until eight either way. Flowers make both great apologies and gifts, you can only imagine the kind of people who walk in there.”

“What, like me?” 

“No way, I’d put you in the normal bunch.” He quirks an eyebrow, an invitation to tell him more about yourself. And that you do. You talk for the two hours that the club remains open, he’s fun, you’re both chatty, you’ve got a multitude of things in common, he tells you about his bandmates, you exchange numbers, he’s a cat person by the way. 

“You want me to walk you home?” The underground closed an hour ago, it wasn’t that big of a trek to your place, you could say yes if not for the stranger—acquaintance—danger middle school talks flashing in your memory. The bus, though taking longer than the tube, was still an option.

“It’s fine, really. I’d rather take the bus.” 

“Got it, I can wait with you if you’d like.” Yeah, yeah, you’d like that. The two of you walk close to each other to the nearest stop. The pavement is damp, it gives you another reason to be glad that you wore your trusty old, slightly dirty, converse instead of a more sophisticated option.

“Thank you for inviting me, I had a nice time, you’re fun.”

“So are you, love.” How could an overused term like that have such a big effect on you when he says it remains a mystery.

You sit in a comfortable silence until the right bus gets there and as you bid your goodbyes you’re unable to contain the big smile you give him, blame it on the drinks. You send him a quick text noticing him that you got home safe and sound before falling into deep sleep.

Your phone rings and vibrates from the bedside table, it always goes off at the same time and yet today it manages to scare you awake. The trip to the bathroom and coffee making is accompanied by a string of curses: music, bad choices, the opening hours of your business and pretty boys all fall victim to your vulgarities. The lack of proper sleep makes your day go by twice as slowly, nodding off and almost missing your stop and doomscrolling during work hours to pass the time, even turning to reading an article from The Daily Bugle, it’s laughable, it’s says something something Spider-Man, something juvenile delinquent something menace for the city.

The chime of little bells half an hour before closing wakes you up better than your alarm had done earlier in the day. Looking up from your phone you spot the same bright eyes and confident stroll that kept you company last night.

“You need to stop coming in right before closing.” You scold him. You’re confident he’s aware that it’s an invitation for him to keep showing up.

“My bad. Do you like food?”

“I-What?” Indeed, what? “I like food, yes.”

“Peng. You want to grab dinner?” And he also needs to stop proposing last-minute plans.

“Where?”

“What do you fancy?”

“Thai?”

“Sure.” 

“I close in half an hour, you can stay here if you want.” Not that you’re expecting any more costumers.

He asks if he can help with anything and you hand him the broom and dustpan that hangs in the back of the shop, he laughs and takes it as payment for having you get out earlier. The floors aren’t dirty per se, it’s mostly leaves and bits of cutting that have fallen. He sweeps while you get everything ready for tomorrow and put away what’s been used today. Half an hour later you hang your work apron and close the shutters. 

There’s a nice restaurant a couple blocks away you’ve got food to-go from before. You order a spicy noodle soup, khanom jeen nam ngiaw, and he settles for stir-fry noodles. It’s good, warm and comforting, you take a bite from his plate and he follows suit with a spoonful of your broth. The conversation picked up while cleaning and it has yet to die down, he tells you about his hobbies—you can't help to make fun of him by saying Hobie's hobbies—and you share your love for museums with him, ‘We should visit one.’ he says to which you agree in excitement. 

You don’t let go of his hand until your bedroom door is closed and you softly push him into bed. Taking only a short break to take off both of your shoes you don’t waist time in straddling him, his hands on your hips as you return to kissing. Soft moans mark the tempo for your exploring hands and you stare at his bare abdomen with much less shame than you think you should have. His hands are slightly calloused and scarred, it doesn’t matter with how skilled they are. It feels like you’re drowning in him, you hope he feels half as good as he’s making you feel, if his breathless mutters of ‘fuck’ and ‘good girl’ are any indicator you can pat yourself on the back after it’s over.

The dinner is paid for, the night chilly compared to the warmth inside the restaurant. He offers to walk you home again, this time you agree because you’re no longer strangers, right? You make it half of the way before puts his hand on your lower back, you don’t make an effort to move it, it’s comfortable.

You make it three quarters of the way until you start kissing, your back against the wall of a mildly busy street, you feel like a horny teenager. You climb up the stairs to your flat two-steps at a time, your hand holding his and praying that your flatmate has confined herself to her room so you don’t have to introduce one to the other, not right now at least.

The morning after your alarm not only scares you awake but it also makes him sit up in bed with a jolt.

“Sorry.” Sleep is still evident in your voice.

“S’okay.” He replies before giving you a chaste kiss on the lips, you don’t think either of you wants to deal with each other’s morning breath, it’s a tad early for that.

You offer him breakfast. Your flatmate has left for work but she won’t forgive you if you don’t tell her of last night’s events. At least it won’t make this morning awkward, or more awkward than it already is, it happens with first breakfasts: sleepy, a mess, cranky from waking up, it’s not anyone’s best look. 

You take the underground while he chooses to walk home, it’s not crazy far away from yours, apparently. In the meantime, the work day is spent looking up frantically every time the bells over your door chime, hoping that it will be him at some point. He does come over, at ten past eight, and he has to knock on the door to catch your attention. Your strange arrangement goes on for the better part of the next two months, he comes over when you’re about to close, you eat together multiple times per week, he’s quite a skilled at making exactly seven different dishes, he invites you to his shows and you’ve met his bandmates, you’ve had every cliché date imaginable: the park, the cinema, the natural history museum, markets, the full deal. You don’t call them dates though, you’re not a couple even with all the kissing and sleeping together—literally and figuratively—he’s told you he doesn’t like labels, but he’s being exclusive with you so you’re okay with it. 

He shows up with little cuts and bruises, you attributed to being clumsy at first but it’s become more common lately, he excuses it as a protest that went south, a moshpit or just a friendly scuffle with his mates. It doesn’t ease your nerves. But you're soon to forget all about it once you’re outside, walking hand in hand and sharing headphones, he’s incorporated bits and pieces of your music to his playlist and he makes sure to show you the songs he thinks you’ll like first than anything.

Your phone lights up with a text notification from Hobie, he’s coming over soon. It shouldn’t be, but it reads as ominous, he doesn’t usually tell you in advance and would rather showing up unannounced.

“Hey pet.” He greets, it’s his latest nickname for you, you’ve always thought it ridiculous but he’s making you grow fond of it.

“Hi Bee” An animal-related nickname you gave him after he tried calling you ‘duck’ that has stuck. “You want to do something or should we head home?”

“Home’s fine, I’m tired.” It’s fair, he’s always running around doing things, you’re okay with a night in. 

He sweeps the floor, it’s his assigned task, you feel bad but he says he doesn’t mind and likes helping you. The ride back to your place is quieter than usual, he seems pensive. You’re about to open the door to your building when you notice him stuck a meter away.

“Are you okay?” Your heart is picking up speed.

“Listen, love.” Oh no. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to come up.” You’re on the second and final step of the stairway while he’s at ground level, he looks smaller than he’s ever been. “I’ve had a lot of fun, really, but I don’t think I can go on with our thing, you know? I’m not good at commitment anyway.” Your lack of a response get’s him speaking again. “I’m truly sorry, I just don’t wanna go on with this and end up hurtin’ you.”

“Okay.” Is the only thing your brain is able to formulate.

“Okay.” He replies. “I’ll be leaving now.” He says as he kisses your temple, turning around and giving you a single wave of the hand for a goodbye.

You feel the tears beginning to fill up your eyes, your vision blurry, at least you were able to hold them until he left, it’s already embarrassing as it is. You don’t bother re-heating dinner that night, choosing to go straight to bed and waking up with puffy eyes in the morning. For the first time in a while you’re sure you won’t have any visits at work, it’s terrible. You feel stupid. He told you enough about himself to know that the two of you weren’t in for a long-term relationship and still you held onto some sort of hope of being an exception. 

That was two weeks ago. You’ve seen him two times since, while leaving for home. He waves your way and you wave back, out of politeness more than anything. Two weeks of radio silence that break your established routine and fill you with a sense of expectation during the last hours of work. 

It’s nine-twenty on a Sunday, it’s usual for you to stay until late at the end of your work week, Hobie knew that and would make sure to keep you company and take you home those days. The early November weather has made it so it’s already been dark for hours, the city is rather calm, you don’t suppose there’s much to do on a cold November night. A series of knocks on the door alerts you of the presence of someone outside, it startles you as you hold the broom you were using against your chest.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight outside the door. Spider-Man was doubling down and leaning against the glass of your shopfront, electric guitar strapped across him and hanging in his back, clad in his usual metal decorations while his suit had been torn. You let him in a hurry, it’s not ideal to have an idol of the working class dead on your welcome mat. He limps to the back of the shop, in your current state of panic you don’t stop to wonder how he knows the way so well, until he’s sitting on the floor and leaning against one of the walls, guitar forgotten besides him. You follow him and crouch at his side just in time for him to take off his mask. 

“Fuck off.”

“Hi pet.”

You were so excited to be done with work and head home to watch a film, lucky for you, your ex-situationship still has a habit of coming in right before you leave. 

“Bloody hell Hobie.” 

“Please don’t be shocked right now, we can talk about it tomorrow.” He can’t be serious. “I’m knackered.” I wonder why, you think. He looks like proper shit.

“Hobie you’re bleeding.” You’re trying your best to be helpful and not panic.

“It’s fine love, it’ll heal in no time, I kinda have superpowers.” You’re choosing to ignore that and get up to retrieve your first aid kit, it’s far too basic to be useful right now, only equipped to help with cuts and minor injuries.

You can feel his eyes on you and your whole body is shaking as you kneel by his side. You try your best to keep your hands steady while pouring rubbing alcohol into a cotton pad.

“You don’t have to, I’ll be fine.”

“Let me clean it, please, so it doesn’t get infected.” He lets you, wincing at the alcohol making contact with his open injuries. He knows you're doing it more for yourself than him. “Sorry.” He shakes his head as a way of saying ‘no worries’.

You reach for his face with your bare hand once you’ve considered him clean enough, you cradle his cheek and can’t hold your tears from spilling.

“This is why I cut thing off with you, you know? Don’t wan’ you getting hurt.”

“I don’t care.”

“Don’t say that.” He pleads. 

“What about you getting hurt? Does that not matter?” He laughs and winces right after.

“You’re a sweet thing. I don’t have a choice but you do.”

“And what if my choice is to stand by your side?”

“You can’t.”

“Yes I do!” You’re reaching tour breaking point and can’t help but raise your voice. “I didn’t know I loved you as much as I do until these last weeks without you. It’s been torture.”

“It’s been torture for me too.” His words soften you, and it’s only then you realize what you said, you don’t dare acknowledge them, maybe he didn’t notice or the head trauma will make him forget it.

You’re crying now and it feels awful because you should be the one comforting him, he’s hurt not you. He holds you as you shake and places a kiss to your head.

“Can we sleep here?” He asks once you’ve calmed down. The tile floor is anything but comfortable and still you nod yes.

You fix a make-shift bed consisting of your bunched up jumper and apron for pillows and your big coat, that barely covers his upper body, for a blanket. Not that it matters, you chose to turn the radiator up and it’s hard to get cold while curled up to a human heater. You’re careful while laying with him, both out of fear of hurting him and prudence of this hurting you even more. He doesn’t care and brings you closer, your head on his chest and his hand drawing shapes on your back over your clothes, you can’t help but worry about the state of his back in the morning. 

You find sleep easier than you have since your “break-up”, his rhythmic breathing lulls you and his caresses calm you down. You’re in the before-falling-asleep-limbo when you hear his voice, he says “I love you too” like a confession secret, you’re not sure if you were even supposed to hear it. It’s too late for you to react, his words mix with the beginning of your dreams into a spiralling nonsense.

🕷 i really enjoyed writing this! i was thinking of maybe doing a part 2? tell me your thoughts if you dont mind too! i haven't written anything that isnt academic in years and i feel rusty

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie brown fanfic #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown drabble #hobie brown blurb #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you #spider punk x y/n #florist au #atsv x reader #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown angst #hobie brown x fem!reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk x you #spiderpunk x y/n

[llamagoddessofficial]

@aka-indulgence had the GALL to talk to me about their Moon God concept. how dare u rope me into this, you know how much I love writing Gods

---

"... I think you'd like the Earth," she said, softly.

... The chains clinked gently, as the restrained God cocked his head to the side. Despite how her warm starlight bathed his body, his own glow remained cold and grey, far older and deeper light than hers.

A cruel, crescent smile worked its way onto his face. "i thought you said you knew what i did, little comet."

Her lip turned. Oh, how he loved when her pretty face frowned... something so beautiful, trying so hard to be unpleasant, and instead appearing even sweeter.

"The Earth is wonderful." She repeated, stubbornly, to the monster that had tried to destroy it all. Her hair floated around her, like nebulae clouding in deep space.

He leaned forward. Suddenly, the chains began to strain- despite the brave face she quickly put on he saw her flinch, he saw her light flicker, dimming in fear. She was a brave thing, of course... but she was still smart, and when the lunar God drew nearer the urge to flee was written all over her.

"you've never seen a world without light, have you, my star?" Shadows as deep as silence began to mar his gleeful face and giant body. "of course not, not when you are light. but did you ever think about how things might look when you're not there? do you and your sisters, and your damned mother, ever think about how different everything is when you're not there to encourage its mindless love? the earth isn't such a wonderful place. especially not when it's got enough darkness to hide in."

She had frozen. She stared at him with wide, glittering eyes. His own eyelights were sharp and small, old moons in the arms of the new.

He sat back. "well. that's just my thoughts. and i-"

.... Suddenly, warmth washed over him- her eyebrows shot up and she rounded on him like a spitting fire, her glow red hot. "What do you know about the Earth!?"

Sans startled, blinking and drawing back in surprise; flashing blue and violet colours suddenly filled the room, a little supernova of emotion bursting out of her. She approached his bars, voice echoing as loud as a little God's voice could.

"Don't mistake my silence for contemplation, Moon." She flared. "And forgive my insolence, but haven't you been sitting in a cave for... what, a few hundred thousand years? What do you know about the Earth, you fool? And don't tell me about mindless mortal love, stars do nothing! We guide sailors if we're lucky, and we end up trapped as mortal wives if we're not! There are creatures who run from the sun, whose whole lives revolve around your light, and you lecture me about..."

...

Her glow started to dim, becoming gentler and whiter, as she looked at the gleeful and exhilarated expression on his face. By the way her eyes widened, and her breaths softened, she seemed to be slowly remembering who she was talking to.

"... A-about..." She stepped back from the bars. Her light was dimming further and further. "About... u-uhm..."

... No small amount of panic was written on her face. The little Goddess looked like she was about to turn and flee.

He had to stop himself from pulling forward and frightening her. no. don't go. don't leave. it's dark without you.

...

Sans raised his face, slightly. "there are creatures who live by moonlight?"

... She let out a small breath. "Y... yes. There are many."

"it has..." He glanced to the side, struggling in admitting his shortcoming... struggling in sacrificing his pride in the hopes she'd stay. "... it has been a long time, since i saw the earth. things have perhaps moved on more without me than i realised."

"Perhaps." She said, with the last of her anger.

...

"... would you tell me about them?" His gaze was a strange type of soft that she'd never seen before. "the creatures, living in the night?

... That clearly surprised her. It was her turn to cock her head, the motion made him want to cup her like a firefly.

"Of... of course." She drew in closer again. "There are many...

He relaxed, as she started to speak. She didn't know it wasn't her proximity that made him start to shine a little bit brighter.

#llama writes #hes such a BAD MAN i love him

[jackhues]

our house - arber xhekaj

notes: i hope you guys like this, third fic for 'it's the most wonderful time of the year', a bit of domesticy fluff for this one :))

likes are good, reblogs are better <3

part of naqia's end of the year celly!

gif not mine

"we got the gingerbread houses!" arber announced, ushering your daughter inside before closing the door.

hana, your daughter, came stumbling in the kitchen, holding a gingerbread box that was much too big for her. your husband followed close behind, just in case she dropped it.

"is the icing ready already?" she asked, putting the gingerbread house box on the edge of the counter. arber laughed, picking her up a bit to help her place it more securely.

"it's ready!" arian, your son, said proudly to his little sister. "mommy and i made so many colours, look daddy!"

"oh wow," arber grinned at the different colours you and arian had been mixing up while he went shopping with hana. he ruffled arian's hair, "good job. this is gonna be the best gingerbread house ever!"

"i wanna see too!" hana raised her hands for arber to lift her. "show me, please."

arber lifted her up, showing her the reds, and blues, and pinks, and yellows you and arian had mixed up.

"woww," she muttered. "can i eat it?"

"no, hana," arian shook his head, sounding like a tired old man. "we need to decorate the house first."

"i can eat it after?"

"you can eat it after," he agreed.

you and arber shared a grin at their interaction. you had two kids and they were basically polar opposites. arian was the calmest child you'd ever met, absolutely content with whatever you gave him. meanwhile hana needed to cause chaos wherever she stepped.

"okay, okay, now that we have everything, we can start building," you decided.

you all grabbed the icing, candies, and gingerbread house, making your way to the living room. you'd set up an old tarp on the carpet just in case anything spilled (which was basically a certain with hana involved).

"for you, my love," arber held out the gingerbread box. "you may do the honours."

you laughed, ripping open the box as arber and your kids cheered. you broke apart the pieces, handing everyone a piece of the wall. putting the roof on the side, you turned to your piece of the gingerbread house.

hana immediately grabbed the yellow frosting and began spreading it all over the wall she had gotten.

"hana, it's going to make it heavy. the wall won't -- never mind," arian decided. "do whatever you want."

"okay," hana shrugged, continuing to spread the icing all over her gingerbread piece.

across from her, arian pipes a small amount of blue around the edges, drawing designs on it. across from you, arber drew a heart on his wall, with both of your initials inside, and hana and arian's right outside.

"you're such a dweeb," you rolled your eyes, laughing at his grin.

the four of you watched the home alone movies as you decorated your gingerbread pieces, laughing at each other's pieces and trying to hide your pieces from the others.

"i'm done," arian smiled, holding out his piece.

the rest of you brought your own pieces out, getting ready to build the actual house.

"oh no, it's falling!" hana cried, pointing at her piece.

she's smothered so much icing on it that it wouldn't stay up, no matter how much arber tried to get it stay.

"hold up, let me do it," you said, playing around with the icing. you allowed her piece to lean on the other walls. after a few minutes, you stepped back, grinning. "ta-da!"

"yay!" hana clapped.

arian laughed at her reaction, happy to see the gingerbread house standing.

"i don't know how you do it," arber muttered to himself, staring at you in awe.

"do what?" you asked.

"make me fall in love with you a little more," he answered simply.

you blushed, shoving him away as he laughed and pulled you close. you gave in, leaning against his chest as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"okay, stop being mushy guys," hana turned back to the gingerbread house. "it's time to make the roof."

you and arber exchanged a look, bursting into laughter.

"of course, princess," arber grinned at her. "let's make the roof of our house together."

#naqia's end of the year celly! #naqia writes! #arber xhekaj #arber xhekaj imagine #arber xhekaj x reader #arber xhekaj blurb #arber xhekaj imagines #arber xhekaj blurbs #arber xhekaj fluff #arber xhekaj one shot #montreal canadiens #montral canadiens x reader #nhl one shot #nhl fic #hockey one shot #hockey fic #hockey

[creachureboy]

Shoutouts to Vasily Pavlichenko !

(General vasily HCs as well as Vasily/reader hcs)

*With bonus nsfw at the end, dw I tag it

Gender neutral reader, again

Order: general hcs -> vasily/reader -> nsfw

GENERAL HCS

Shoutout to the man who showers nearly exclusively with cold water every morning like a fucking SICKO (good for him).

Shoutout to the man who has one apron which he uses both for art and for cooking and refuses to buy another one because he says having more than one is unnecessary.

Shoutout to the man who has an entire shelf of his art supplies which he keeps very tidy and organized, but his workstation is constantly a mess.

Shoutout to the man who accidentally drank paint water when sleep deprived and didn't even notice until a few seconds after he swallowed it.

Shoutout to the man who used to consistently organize his art supplies by colour but has since has given up.

Shoutout to the man with like 69 pinterest boards all for really specific things and somehow is able to nagivate them with no issue.

SFW VASILY/READER

Shoutout to the man who, if you let him, will pull out his phone and take pictures or videos of you while hanging out, purely because he wants to always remember the small moments.

Shoutout to the man who picks you up like a cat sometimes just for the funnies.

Shoutout to the man who has the warmest tiddies to snuggle on a cold night. Or a cold day. Or a hot day. Why limit yourself (although he might not appreciate the last one).

Shoutout to the man who's so observant that he notices when something's bothering you before even you notice it.

Shoutout to the man who will drag you out of bed in the morning, he'll let you sleep in if you need it but. Do you smell that ? The breakfast he cooked for you both ? What're you gonna do, stay in bed and let it get cold rather than eat it with him?

Shoutout to the man who's impulse upon waking up to accidentally drooling on you in his sleep was to laugh first and THEN apologize.

Shoutout to the man who is the reason you watch your step while youre in his room / he's in your room, because he likes to lay down on the floor.

Shoutout to the man who allows you to bite his fingers like a cat.

Shoutout to the man who draws your favourite characters just to see you light up.

Shoutout to the man who stays up late drawing who you have to drag to bed with you or he'll be up for another god knows how many hours.

Shoutout to the man who, when he doesnt stay up late drawing, sleeps at a pretty reasonable time, and drags you to bed when you're up late.

Shoutout to the man who invites you to play fps games with him and supports you even if you have no idea what you're doing.

Shoutout to the man who likes to give you big hugs and lifts you up off the ground to spin you, but stopped ever since he accidentally spun your ankle right into the leg of a table and had to go get ice for you.

Shoutout to the man who lets you borrow all his comfy sweaters and jackets and calls you a bowling ball when you stuff your knees into the sweater while you wear it.

Shoutout to the man who cant handle spicy food for shit. You only learned that about him when you ate something spicy with him, and you turned to him bcs he was sniffling and he looked like he was about to cry.

Shoutout to the man who went stargazing with you only to accidentally choose the most mosquito infested place.

Shoutout to the man who wanted to have a candlelit dinner with you but evenetually got annoyed that he couldn't see the food and just turned on the ceiling light.

Shoutout to the man who didn't notice you were laying on the floor, almost stepped on you, then immediately noticed you and fell over and hit his head.

Shoutout to the man who got flustered like a schoolgirl after you did the kabedon to him.

Shoutout to the man that made cookies with you and cut them into cute shapes only for them to expand while baking and then become deformed, but he still tried to salvage them and it sort of worked.

Shoutout to the man who seemed so visibly distressed as he told you he couldnt find his favourite pencil anywhwre, only for you to chuckle and tell him that it was behind his ear.

I THINK THIS IS STILL SFW BUT IDK

Shoutout to the man WITH THE HAIRY CHEST ‼️

NSFW

Shoutout to the man who will overstimulate you, and when you tell him its too much, he'll give you reassuring kisses and whisper to you "you can do this" and "you're being so good for me" all while not letting up in the fucking slightest. He only stops if you directly ask him to.

Shoutout to the man who doesnt like to limit himself to fucking you on the bed, and likes to experiement in different places like over your table, on a chair, on the floor, against a wall, or wherever else you both can think of.

Shoutout to the man who tried to finger you but then winced and had to stop because he forgot that he accidentally burned his hand last time he cooked.

Shoutout to the man who you accidentally walked in on masturbating while groaning your name.

Shoutout to the man who, if you let him, pulls out the audio recorder on his phone while he's doing you so he can always listen back to the soft noises you made for him.

Shoutout to the man who sneezed when you gave him head, and couldn't help but chuckle when you mustered a muffled "bless you" while his dick was still in your mouth.

Shoutout to the man who accidentally came onto your bedsheet and wanted to clean it up, so he took some tissues and a cup of water to clean it off, but you accidentally kicked his arm while getting off the bed at the same time he tried to pour a bit of water, consequently spilling the water on the bed. The patch was still damp when you tried to sleep and you both ended up huddling on one corner of the bed to avoid the cold wet spot.

#golden kamuy #headcanons #imagines #vasily x reader #vasily pavlichenko #golden kamuy imagines #golden kamuy x reader #golden kamuy headcanons

[an-evergreen-rose]

When Worlds Collide Part 5

Kate Bishop x Female Spiderwoman reader (basically has Miles powers; invisibility, electric webs)

Summary: Fury decides your fate

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst I guess

A/N: just to let you know, I have written kates and y/n first kiss, however, I'm gonna need to fill in some gaps timeline-wise before I can give it to you... soz

MASTERLIST

You were currently in his lab as the Fury thought it best that they got to know more about you before they decided on what to do with you. So far Tony had found out your DNA  was mutated with a lot of similarities to Peters, and a few extra add ons of course, you were a total of 5 feet and 3 inches tall and you did in fact like cheeseburgers. Maybe that last part was more of Tony's curiosity than Fury's list of questions. 

Kate, unfortunately, had to answer Fury's questions also, so while she was sitting in his office, Clint by her side, you were getting stabbed by tiny needles by Tony while Natasha stood guard.

“How’d you get these powers, kid?” Tony asked whilst drawing some of your blood.

“Went somewhere I shouldn’t have,” You answered vaguely, gaining an eye roll from the redhead.

Natasha lent forward in her seat, resting her elbows on the desk she and Tony were sitting on, opposite from your chair. “You’re gonna have to tell us a bit more than that if you want to see your friend again, Y/N.”

You frowned slightly at her tone, only now realising that this questioning may be more of a friendly interrogation, considering you are a high-powered, random person to them who apparently, came out of a giant portal in the sky. The last time they dealt with portals like that, was in 2012 and the aliens were not so friendly so no wonder they were slightly on edge.

 “Sorry,” You began, making sure to stay on her good side, not too sure how well it would end for you if you didn’t. “My friends and I were out tagging this new spot in the subway-”

“-What the hell is tagging?” Natasha interrupted, clearly not happy with my story already.

“Um, like spray cans and stuff, we found the spot so we put our artwork up first so other people would know we were there.”

“So… vandalism.”

“You could say that I guess.”

Natasha let out a sigh, “Carry on.” This wasn’t what she wanted to be doing on a Thursday morning.

“So, we tagged the spot, took some pictures-”

This time, it was Tony who interrupted, “Do you have the pictures?”

“They are on my phone, which I don’t bring out when I’m on patrol. Too many cracked screens and not enough money to fix them,” you tried to lighten the mood, not liking the shift in the atmosphere ever since they separated you and Kate.

“So you have no proof?”

“I guess not, no.” God, you desperately wanted to please these people but they were making it so hard to do so.

Tony scribbled something down on a piece of paper, “Carry on.”

“When we were cleaning up our stuff I felt this sting on my hand and I saw this weird-looking spider had bitten me.”

“Weird how? Can you describe it?” Tony asked.

“It kinda glowed an ominous, mutated-looking green colour.” I watched as Tony underlined his scribbles, obviously wanting to know more.

“Then what happened?” he asked.

“I got sick. Fevers, headaches, cramps. They lasted about 3 days, I was basically bedbound and then I just slept for like 2 days straight. My roommate had to wake me up to eat and drink and stuff and then I woke up and I just felt different.”

This time, Natasha asked the question, “different how?”

“Stronger, more aware, and just like I had the power inside me,” I spoke, unconsciously using my hands to elaborate, “Eventually I figured it out, and then my roommate and I decided we could use it to help. We don’t have the avengers where I’m from, so it was kinda up to me to save the city.”

You continued to answer their questions, hoping that if you just complied, you would get to see Kate again. After about an hour, you were finally let out of the room, finding your raven-haired archer sitting on the floor outside Tony’s lab, her back resting against the wall and an incredibly bored look on her face.

“Jeeze, how many questions did you ask her?” Kate huffed whilst standing up.

“Enough to know she's not a threat,” Natasha answered, standing beside you with her arms crossed, her eyebrow raised watching the archer get up. “I’ll go speak to Fury and see what he wants to do, don’t go too far.”

—

“So, Miss Y/N Y/LN, 19 years old, biologically enhanced with spider-like powers along with bio-electricity and invisibility, fell from the sky and landed in our universe,” Fury began, sitting in his chair whilst you and kate sat on the other side, Clint and Natasha stood behind you. “With no way home.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his words. In all the chaos that has happened you only now just realised the severity of it all. Everyone you left behind. Everyone you didn’t get to say goodbye to. You don’t know how you got here and you sure as hell have no idea how to get back. Kate noticed your shift in the mood but her chair was too far away for her to lend a comforting hand. Instead, she watched with a heavy heart as your eyes glassed over at Fury’s words.

“Tony has run some tests regarding last night's portal and has surprisingly accepted defeat in his ability to create another one to get you back home… I’m afraid you’re stuck with us.”

“She can stay with me,” Kate began, a hint of eagerness in her voice which didn’t go unnoticed by the red-headed assassin and her friend.

“That's very kind of Miss Bishop, however, I would like to keep a close eye on our new spider-friend, so she will be staying in the compound until I say so. I would like to understand more of her capabilities before I let her roam around the streets of New York with a rookie avenger.”

“But, Natasha said I wasn’t a threat?” You interrupted.

Fury looked at you with his good eye, and you regretted speaking immediately, “I find that actions speak louder than words, Miss Y/LN. Just because you answered some questions does not mean I trust you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry.” Even Kate knew not to break the silence that had consumed the room, only Natasha dared to speak up.

“You will start training with Wanda and Peter tomorrow morning,” she began, walking over to Fury’s desk to stand by his chair, directing her words at you. “I will be supervising, and relaying daily reports back to Fury on your progress and abilities.”

“Once we know more about you, perhaps you could make yourself useful and join us?” Fury added, his eyebrows raised with hope.

“And if I don’t?”

Fury let out a small chuckle, “Let's just say the U.S government don’t like enhanced personnel living unsupervised.”

“You’ll be put behind bars, kid,” Clint spoke up from behind you, “If you’re not with us, you’re a potential threat to us. The big boys don’t take threats too lightly, not when it comes to the enhanced.”

You sat silently for a moment, life as an avenger, or life behind bars. Not really much to think about really.

“I guess I’ll join your band then.”

---------

almosttoogay2function luminaaz thelonewriter24 redkaddict angel09172000 kassies-take girlssnrosess mxrvellouspidey belltako wandaroman0ff tu-mama727 7smexy7diva justhereformemes12345-blog lammy07 eonrioromanova me-uglypretty pinneapplequeenn puathepig lenalesbian kacka84 urmultifandomfan sheneonromanoff maximuscofi mxrvellouspidey livinginafanfic rooooooe

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop imagine #marvel x female reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #spiderman #spider girl #kate bishop x spider girl #gxg #wlw

[melisusthewee]

WIP Wednesday!!!

Pretend there’s a cool graphic here.  Perhaps I’ll have time to make one some day soon.  Or if anyone wants to whip one up for me, I’ll draw your blorbo as an exchange of goods and services.

Anyways!  On to the sharing!  I was really pleasantly surprised with last week and how many people shared with each other what neat things they were working on and kept the chain going.  So I’m doing it again!  Remember, there’s no pressure, but show me what you’re working on!  What neat things do you have cooking in either the Dragon Age or otherwise fandoms?

I myself don’t have a whole lot this week.  I’ve been suffering from an overwhelming number of ideas and brain bugs and can’t really sit down to complete any of them.  Instead I’m bouncing from idea to idea like a ping pong ball.  I did a little more work on my Inquisitor’s character sheet this week, focusing on his post-Trespasser design as head of Divine Victoria’s honour guard.

(Art and discussion of concept ideas, as well as tag list are below the cut.)

For context, this was the original “design” which was done last year and mostly on a dare after making the joke that the Divine’s bodyguards in Trespasser were just wearing recoloured versions of Sebastian’s outfit and “lol wouldn’t Quinn look dumb in that.”  I added a few elements of Divine Victoria’s armour - mainly with the red fur mantle but it’s pretty basic.

This was my first pass at the redesign for Quinn’s new reference sheet done a couple months ago.  I kept the shoulders the same, but tried to lean into Divine Victoria’s armour more.  Unfortunately, I don’t think it suits a male figure or it just didn’t really translate well for me.  The addition of texture/embossing on parts of the armour also made it feel a bit too busy for me more than looking decorative or elegant.  It also didn’t look like it allowed for much movement in the torso and while I make the dark joke that Quinn is so drunk and depressed at this point in his life that it’d make sense to strap him into armour that forces him to stay upright, compared to the other outfits I’ve redesigned this just... didn’t feel it.

Here is my more recent pass at the redesign!  Again, the shoulders are largely untouched.  I like the idea of the armour completely covering what remains of his left arm, plus it has the added practicality of likely having a strap at the bottom that wraps around the bottom of his sleeve securing it into place.  The bracer on his right arm has also largely been left alone - it’s a hold over from some of his Inquisitor gear in one of my designs and I like carrying bits over... like a wardrobe evolution.  It also shows that Quinn has personal attachment to articles of clothing and accessories.  The fur mantle of the Divine is still there... never gonna get rid of it, but it’s sort of combined/blended with the in-game body guard appearance.  The chest has also been flattened and simplified, going back to resembling the body guard/Sebastian chest piece but a little larger and more protective.  Plus the hint of plate layering too.  The scaled coat is still there as the under layer, but it’s less prominent or visible.  There is a vest between the armour and the scale coat to give the breast plate a little more friction to stay in place.  It will likely be red with gold accents.  All the embossing on the armour has been removed.  I am unlikely to bring it back.

The waist design was also re-worked, taking inspiration from one of my favourite artists’ character design work in Fire Emblem.  The Roman-esque belted skirt is more of a half-skirt, with a fabric skirt draped over part of the belt.  I’ve blocked out a section where I am going to experiment with embroidery patterns similar to what I’ve done on previous outfits to give this more of a my-idea-of-the-Trevelyans feel.  I haven’t done a colour test yet.  But I do think I like this better overall.

Close up of his face, if you like.  He’s so sad.  He’s so tired.  He needs a beard shave and a haircut.

Tagging with absolutely no pressure: @rosella-writes​ @roguelioness​ @potatowitch​ @cleverblackcat​ @noire-pandora​ @darethshirl​ @kittynomsdeplume​ @little-lightning-lavellan​ @little--abyss​ @plisuu​ @blarrghe​ @inquisitoracorn​ @morganlefaye79​ @knuttydraws​ @knightdawn​ @n7viper​ @sulky-valkyrie​ @drag-on-age​ @oxygenforthewicked​ @bluewren​ @nirikeehan​ @effelants​ @greypetrel​ @scribbledquillz​ @transprincecaspian​ @transfenris-truther​ @jellydishes​ @absyntthe​ @idolsgf​ @terencessong​ @internetdoashouting​

As always, if you would like to be added or removed, please let me know.  Don’t feel shy or bad about it!  You can even DM me privately and know one else has to know!

#i need to make a spreadsheet for this #no one say anything about the rat man #unless it's to agree both he and quinn have great hair and facial hair #i have a type #and I'm cool with that

[itsana004]

10, 12, and 14 for Droite for the meme!

Ahhh thank you so much for the ask 💞💞💞

10. Could you be best friends with this character?

Oh gosh definitely not, it's like asking if celebrities could be best friends with their fans and I would be that fan worshiping her and having fan pages dedicated to her so definitely not

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Oh my gosh I actually have a lot hehe

1-One headcanon I have is I think she has a really cute sneeze no matter in what situation, she can't control it and the worst part is it's not expected of her since she's serious most of the time, so she tries not to sneeze in front of people whom she doesn't want to look at her differently, especially enemies, but terribly fails in front of long-term friends and people she sees and visits often like Gauche, Haruto and Kaito.

2-I personally do not believe she's from Spartan City and the idea Mr. Heartland travelled that far from Heartland City to Italy to pick up orphaned children, and Gauche himself says the city they were born in was “terrible” and did not mention Spartan City by name. Even looking at the flashback, just looking at the surroundings it feels the buildings are a bit modernised, more like the outskirts of Heartland City. Gauche and Droite probably travelled to Spartan City due to the Championships being held there and they just travel around living in hotels and don't have a permanent home yet except Heartland City, but I really like the idea of her and Gauche sharing some Italian ancestry and connections to that place I just like the idea of them being Italian since I grew up in Italy. I like to imagine Droite's innate Italian spirit being stereotypically Italian that hates food crimes such as pineapple and fruits on pizza or ruining pasta, she's very defensive of that and even more so after staying in Spartan City in those couple of months. Never show her a Hawaiian pizza ever or she’ll get crazier than how Chris is when he teaches dueling. Haruto found out the hard way and he will never ruin pasta in front of an Italian ever again.

3-Droite is good at many things, but drawing is not one of them. As an orphan who was living in the streets she never really got the practice as a child, and once she was picked up by Mr. Heartland, art wasn't really a big focus in her studies, especially during training. She's insecure about that especially in front of people like Kaito where he needs to make detailed geometry and references in order to build something, she's bad at anything that requires art, whether it is a flower or an architecture. She tries to hide that though.

4-Just as drawing, she's really bad at whistling, she can't whistle for her life, just imagine Haruto trying to teach Droite how to whistle the same he learned from his brother so adorableee 😭💞

5-Droite is incredibly good at board games like chess or Go, she's good at any game that requires and tests one’s ability to think critically and defeat the opponent completely unnoticed, it's just one of those fields where she's almost unbeatable. She's so good that it rivals Chris. She has incredible muscle memory compared to the average and can play chess while blindfolded.

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

I think she's a Chic Modernist

with the colour scheme of Barbiecore with the pink, grey, purple and white combination 

I would absolutely love her to wear darker colours since her normal outing dress is too much pink for my taste, she would kill it in black the ones with nets, and outfits with corset!!!

She already wears a huge belt in canon which kind of acts as a corset

I can also imagine her having a light textile dress like this one

in an open field filled with flowers and butterflies near a seashore - this is not too far of as the first one is the same as her regular outing fit if you remove this

And the second photo is similar to her nightgown

I think for Droite the animators wanted to fit her dress to match the colour scheme of her hair but I think she would rock so many other colours than pink, grey, white and purple/violet combination.

#zexal #ygo zexal #yugioh zexal #droite zexal #sorry for making this post longer than shoul have been 😭😭😭

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Operation Death Wish | Chapter 7

Masterlist

Synopsis: Jake Seresin knew what it was like to lose people he loved, he’d been losing them his whole life. Yet in the midst of chaos as the world as he knew it ended Jake found somebody he never wanted to lose. But what if he’d already lost her. Warnings: swearing, dystopian descriptions, gore, death, violence, alien descriptions, fighting, sexual images, 18+ (minors dni), angst, some fluff at times.

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

Jake groaned as the blood trickled down into his eyes from the cut on his forehead, his head pounding as the high pitched drowning grew louder, filling his head with white noise. He shifted slightly and searing pain shot up his left side, causing his movements to falter. Closing his eyes again as he tried to process where he was. The pain in his side grew until it felt like hot, white heat spreading across his whole lower abdomen. Jake opened his eyes again to see the sky, it was gray and floating high above him moving much faster than it seemed to normally. It wasn’t until small flecks of dirt began to fall littering his cheeks that Jake realised it was ash.

“Darlin’ can you hear me?” His voice shook as he spoke, tears trickling down his dirty cheeks. He brushed several strands of hair out of your eyes, noticing the large gash across your forehead. You eyes twitched slightly under your eyelids and Jake held his breath, watching for any other sign of life.

“Sweetheart, it’s ok I’m here. I’ve got you.” He continued, moving you so you rested your head in his lap as his arms cradled you protectively. “Stay with me, Darlin’.”

You groaned, feeling chest heavy to capacity after the pressure it had been compressed under was removed. Your whole body ached and your ears were ringing as the ashes fell, covering your face and sticking to your eyelashes. Jake’s voice drifted through your mind as if he was next to you. You pushed yourself to move but all you could do was make your eyelids flutter. Fighting against the darkness trying to overtake you, you pushed your eyes to open, squinting into the bright light. The figure above you moved, clutching hold of you and supporting the back on your head as you stared up at them. Blinking you tried to focus but your mind was swimming, blurred images flashing in front of you.

“Jake?” You whispered, your throat burning from the effort, raw and dry as you spluttered breathing in the smoke.

“I’m here, Darlin’, I’ve got you,” Jake replied, pressing his lips against your bruised forehead.

“Jake,” you said again, pushing yourself up quickly and wrapping your arms around him, ignoring the ache in your lower abdomen. Crying into his shoulder, you clutched onto his shirt tighter and relieved that he was ok. You breathed in his smell that was mixed with the smell of smoke and a strong iron smell like blood. He was bleeding. You looked down between you at the large gash across his abdomen, the bright red blood pumping profusely. You gasped, pressing your hands firmly against the wound, causing Jake to cry out through gritted teeth.

“I’m so sorry, Jake but I need to stop the bleeding.” He nodded at you, closing his eyes as he lay back so you could continue to treat him. You scrambled over to your backpack, pulling out the medical kit and fumbling around, hands shaking. You’d been a medic in the field for many years, you should be used to this kind of injury but watching Jake suffer like he was, his face pale and sweaty you could help but panic. You took your scissors, cutting roughly at his shirt to reveal the full extent of his injuries, it was deep, far too deep to treat out here. He was going to need stitches and you didn’t know how much internal damage there was but right now you just had to stem the bleeding. You applied several sterile swabs, watching as the white fabric soon turned a bright crimson colour. You pulled the morphine from the box, drawing up the medication and injected it into Jake’s arm. “I’ve just given you some Morphine, Baby. It will help with the pain, I promise.” You told him as he squirmed, face scrunched up and tears trickling down from his closed eyes. You placed an IV in his right arm and set up a drip, starting him on shock rate fluids to try and help compensate for the blood loss. You’d been so caught up looking after Jake that you didn’t hear Natasha calling out to you, or coming up behind you. It wasn’t until she fell beside you that you noticed her.

“How can I help?” Was all she said, looking at you with a similar expression to your own.

“Keep pressure on the wound. I need to apply a suture to stop the arterial bleeding or he’s going to die. Then we need to move him to somewhere safer so I can suture him properly.” Natasha nodded watching as you changed from worried girlfriend to Navy Medic and began setting up to suture Jake.

After what felt like forever you managed to stop the leading and with Nat’s help you managed to make a temporary stretcher.

“Hang on, where’s Mickey?”

Natasha stopped dead in her tracks, looking at you through tear filled eyes.

“He’s gone. He was gone before I could reach him.” She let out a strangled sob, bending over to try and regain her composure but she couldn’t help the grief she was feeling. These men had been more than her coworkers, they were her friends too and she was gradually losing them all and with Jake in death's door she didn’t know what to do. You moved towards her, wrapping your arms fiercely around her shaking frame.

“It’s gonna be ok, Nat, I promise. You’re going to get to Sophie but right now I need you to help me with Jake. Can you do that for me?” She nodded reluctantly, helping you lift the makeshift stretcher and carrying Jake away from the burning rubble.

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

Jake couldn’t remember much from the trip, images flashed through the darkness, images of the fire, the creatures, of you. But they were all small snippets, fleeting moments that passed all too quickly until Jake was left alone in the darkness of his own mind again. It felt like he was trapped in a prison, unable to escape his own invading thoughts. He called out to you desperate to hear your voice and know you were safe at least but no help came. Jake was lost.

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

You watched as Jake slept, shivering and shaking as his body tried to fight the infection. You tried to clean the wound the best you could, suture the one on his abdomen and his thigh and started him on antibiotics but he was yet to gain consciousness and the longer he was out the less chance there was of him waking up.

You’d barely slept for the last few weeks, afraid that if you did Jake would wake and you wouldn’t be there but even more afraid that he’d die. You had felt exhausted and the lack of food had left both you and Natasha feeling weak. Nat had scouted for food and bought back supplies where she could but anything of use was scarce and you feared that if she’d searched further afield she wouldn’t come back in one piece.

The last few days you’d felt worse than normal, a constant headache causing you to feel dizzy and you’d been vomiting up what little you did have in your stomach. Natasha began to worry you were coming down with something but you had no sign of a fever so you just waved her off, telling her you’d be fine.

You’d managed to find sanctuary in an abandoned warehouse not far from the base your father and fiancé were stationed at. Natasha was desperate to see her wife and you wanted to see your father too but Jake was too weak and unstable to travel and Natasha refused to leave you, so you waited.

After three weeks, Jake woke up. It was terrifying and reliving all at once. He gasped in agony, arms flailing around as he tried to push himself up, confused and scared he thrashed out at you. It wasn’t until you spoke to him, cradling his head against your chest that he relaxed, letting out a strangled sob as he grasped hold of your shirt. You cried with him, cradling him like a baby and whispering comfortingly in his ear until it soothes him. Once you had laid him back down you checked his wounds, his thigh wound was healing nicely but the one of his abdomen still oozed yellow discharge and was hit to the touch. Jake let out a pitiful cry as you cleaned and redressed them and you kissed his lips gently, trying to relieve some of his pain. He soon fell back to sleep and at last you were able to sleep a little easier.

After four weeks, the wound on Jake’s abdomen was looking a little better. Natasha and you had traveled further afield to find supplies, leaving Jake alone and defenseless was the last thing you wanted to do but you were in desperate need of food and medicine so you’d promised to come back for him.

You found a pharmacy about 8 miles south of the warehouse that seemed almost unscathed by the end of the world. You quickly found the large supply of antibiotics and pain relief, shoving them quickly into your bag along with fresh dressings. You wandered down the isles as Natasha searched the rest of the shop and came to the baby aisle. You’d been stressing about the fact that your period was late for the last week which was very unlike you. You had tried to put it down to the amount of weight you’d lost through lack of food but the thought lingered in the back of your mind and when you stumbled across the pregnancy tests you couldn’t help but wonder.

Picking up four different test you tried to shove them in your bag quickly so Nat wouldn’t see but she was already stood in front of you.

“What are you doing?” She asked, looking at you confused, her lips set in a firm line and under her firm gaze you felt like a naughty child who had been caught doing something they shouldn’t.

“Oh… nothing… just…” you stumbled over your wordless embarrassingly trying to find an excuse for your actions.

Natasha sighed, trying to give you a more reassuring smile. “My wife’s pregnant. I know a pregnancy test when I see one. How far along are you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if I am pregnant but my period is late and I…” you stopped yourself before you could say too much but from the look on Natasha’s face she had already pieced it all together.

“It’s Jake’s isn’t it.”

You looked down at your shoes, nodding sheepishly as you tried to stop the tears rolling down your cheeks. You sniffed helplessly, “I’m sorry, Nat.” You collapsed to the floor, ignoring the dust. You expected Nat to stand there and scold you for your actions, you were engaged, the world had ended, there were so many reasons that you shouldn’t have gotten pregnant. But instead she held you, rocking you back and forth as you cried. “Well why don’t we take the tests before crying about the possible results, huh?” Nat asked, her normally harsh face had softened slightly and she helped you to your feet.

You took all four of the tests quickly, checking your watch for the time as you and Nat sat and waited. Nat had found a tin of baked beans and you sat with the tin between you, using two old spoons to eat the cold slimy pulses. You’d never been a fan of baked beans at the best of times and when they were cold they were even worse. But between how hungry you were and the nervous butterflies facing in your stomach you shoveled the cold, jelly-like substance into your mouth and swallowed quickly.

Two minutes seemed like both an eternity and seconds and as your watch struck the hour you turned to face Natasha, your hands shaking as you retrieved the four white sticks in front of you. Nat placed her hand on your shoulder, telling you that everything would be ok but you could barely hear her as your heart hammered loudly in your ears. You flipped over the tests all at once, starting down at them. They were so small and fragile and yet they held your entire future, all four of them lined in a row like some kind of firing squad.

You traced your hand over each in turn, over each little pink cross. You couldn’t hear Nat talking beside you, or your heart hammering anymore, you felt sick and the bile was rising in the back of your throat like a small tidal wave waiting to erupt. Without a second glance you stood quickly, running towards the glass front doors and out into the street where the contents of your stomach soon followed. You wretched and wretched, the nauseous feeling only growing and the tears soon joined it as you sobbed. Clutching hold of your invisible bump as you heaved again. Nat’s hand soon found your back, rubbing it gently and you gagged and cried. This couldn’t be happening, you couldn’t be pregnant, there was no way you tried to reason but the logical part of you knew it was true. You were pregnant and you had to accept that, the only problem now would be how to tell Jake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Taglist: @wkndwlff @a-reader-and-a-writer @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @callsignmaverick5 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @abaker74 @elenavampire21 @classyunknownlover @okiegirl24 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @airedale17 @shadowolf993 @flyboyjake @topguncultleader @callmemana @marchingicenotes7 @t-nd-rfoot @shanimallina87 @emorychase @jstarr86 @starkleila

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

#operation death wish #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake seresin x female!reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman #top gun hangman #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster

[madstwd]

What if Rick Grimes had a Clumsy Child:

(Rick having a clumsy child that he would accidentally not spend as much time with to keep safe…what happens when something actually happens and he realises he wasn’t being as kind/caring as he thought)

Rick Grimes x child!reader headcanons

The reader was a twin with carl, had the same fiery yet kind nature as rick and their sibling. But was always falling over to hurting themselves in easily preventable ways. You could often trip up or down steps when you got lost in day dreams. Loosing sight of your father and sibling.

Small cuts constantly littering your hands from cutting things up wring when helping carol cook. Rick would always sigh, pulling out one of the many plasters he had to search for. Scolding you if it was a lot deeper and needed a bandage.

From ricks scoulding you would always get jealous when Carl never hurt himself, or trip over a shoelace he didnt tie up properly. Carl got to spend time helping rick out with his guard duties or when they helped Maggie plant crops at Alexandria, you often did but without them knowing.

You would never speak up about it, too ashamed of the thought that rick preferred your twin over you. You knew he was just keeping you safe but almost seemed like he didnt trust you anymore. You were never allowed outside the walls, your knife was small, and you weren’t allowed to carry a gun. To you a few small cuts and bruises didnt really come to the conclusion you were actually clumsy.

One day when Rick and Carl had gone out for a run, leaving you inside the walls you left. You weren’t sure why, you took a gun, food and water and then left for a walk. You knew whoever was at the gates wouldn’t let you through so you snuck out. Decided a walk in the forest would alarm anyone too much, and the worst you could do was trip over a tree root.

That was exactly what happened though, you tripped over a tree root as you searched for a clearing to sit and draw in. As you fell you tried to fall away from the sharp branch on the floor but ended up falling onto it. The weight of you and the sharpness of the branch caused it to pierce your skin and impaled you.

Now you were laying in the forest waiting for your father to notice you missing, you were bleeding out, you could feel it. This was the worst you had gotten hurt before. When rick had found you, you were waiting for the scoulding look you normally got but instead his face was etched with worry. The same look you saw when carl had lost his eye, or when carl returned home with negan. He crouched infront of you, looking at the stick in your side and your face which was slowly draining with colour. He was more shocked at the fact you had a look of confusion on your face.

“Hey honey, come on we gotta get you back. Stay with me” he said as he lifted you in his arms. You noticed Carl and Daryl following closely. You looked at your twin, seeing the worry etched on his face. Along with daryl. You could feel tears fall onto your arm, looking up you noticed rick crying.

Once you were healed up and left to sleep, rick didnt leave your side you could feel his hand stroking your hair as you rested. Your eyes shut not wanting you face his lecture on how you shouldn’t of been outside the walls. “I know you’re awake”

You gulped, opened them and faced your father. Noticing he was alone, blood still on his shirt and hands indicating he hadn’t left your side.

“Why did you leave the walls? You know you aren’t allowed?”

“Carl leaves them, I don’t understand how its any different when i do it?”

“Because he isn’t as clumsy as you, he doesn’t seriously injure himself with anything he does”

“Do you prefer him over me? I can live with daryl?”

“Why would suggest that?”

“You never spend time with me, i draw and you never talk to me about any of it, I helped Maggie with the garden today, or helped tidy the other day. But all you care about is carl and making sure he’s ready, or you take him out and spend time with him alone” you cried. Ricks heart broke, in trying to keep you safe from the danger that follows you he didn’t realise he pushed you away, daryl always prompted you to talk to him, being one of the few people to come and talk to you or see what you were up to. And you never annoyed daryl, he allowed you to draw next to him or help him cut up any animals he hunted, rick refused to do anything like that over the fear you would heart yourself.

“I’m sorry, but i tell you what, you and me have a day together tomorrow. You can show me your drawings and we can try and frame some or put them up around the house” he smiled. It was only a small gesture but it was a start to rebuilding the relationship you had with your dad. It wasn’t your fault you were always stuck in your head and bumping into things, most often forgot that you and carl were still kids. With carl acting mature and adapted better/quicker than you, rick forgot sometime people took a while. And he was only trying to protect you.

#the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead x reader #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes

[paralyze-fic]

Paralyze.

Chapter 18

At 5:30 am Aizawa and the Pussycats woke us all up to begin our training.

He made Bakugou throw a softball using his quirk, I was impressed, seeing as I hadn't been in the Hero Course when they did this test. The result was 709.6 meters, and even if that was shocking to me, the rest of the class wasn't as surprised.

And then, our hell began.

While everybody was working on ways to improve their quirks and make them stronger, I was standing against a rock wall not knowing what to do. Maybe I could try to enhance my own muscles without having to stop others'...? No, I've tried that before, didn't work, maybe-.

"(L/n)," I flinched at Aizawa's sudden call of my name. My upper body turned slightly at him.

"Hai?" He stepped closer to me, and even if I was taller than him, I felt tiny all of a sudden. He is a scary man.

"Bakugou told me he had been helping you train to stop machinery," he said. Cue my nonstop blinking.

"Eh?" That was the only thing that got out of my mouth. He pulled a cart seemingly out of thin air, and on top of it, there were lots of portable electronics.

"You're gonna keep working on that."

This was going to be a long, tiring day.

///////

At some point, Class 1-B had joined us, along with the other two missing Pussycats and Vlad King. My mind was still repeating their introduction.

"Wild wild Pussycats~" I giggled to myself but soon tapped my cheeks to keep focus on what I had to do.

Aizawa had told Kaminari to come now and then to charge the electronics I was trying to turn off. Every time he came by I couldn't contain my snickers, but I still asked him how he was, only receiving a 'Weeey!' as an answer.

And the whole while Bakugou's screaming made me turn back to look at him, some times I would end up staring at him longer than I should, and I would only snap back when Iida would run past me.

I sighed already exhausted and stressed, my hands grabbing my head tight trying to ease the sharp pain I was feeling.

I have to do this... it's the only way for me to improve.

I would have celebrated that, if it wasn't for the throbbing headache I was going through, it was so hard it made my legs wobble until I collapsed against the rock wall.

Forcefully, I made myself open my eyes and imagined a mechanical human-shaped body, a robot basically. Now, I had to think of the electronic I wanted to turn off... the laptop.

The human-shaped body morphed into the laptop, its shape changing into a rectangular form. My head pounded, and my right eye twitched. No, focus, you can do this. The screen started to glitch and it had static for some long seconds until... it turned off.

"Stop... it hurts, stop." And then... the pain was gone.

I sighed in relief and opened my eyes.

"Eh?!" I blinked once, twice even three times, but I couldn't see anything, all I saw was white. "Shit, it's been so long since this happened." My hands tapped the ground and the rock behind me, trying to push my body up in a standing position. "What do I do now?"

Usually, my blindness would go away after some hours. Each colour I see takes different times. White; takes like two hours. And the darker it gets, the longer it stays. Black; would take up to one to four days.

I experienced the black many times when I was young, but as I grew up, I learned to control it. The last time I went blind was during my training before the U.A.'s entrance exam, and that time was a light grey. Took five hours to fade.

Now, I didn't know how long we would be training but-

"Everyone, gather around." Fuck, now what.

I tried to listen to everybody's footsteps, so I would kinda know where to go, but it was a bit confusing. I managed though, slow and steady.

I heard everyone stop, and so did I, my head tilted down, trying to not draw attention to me for now. I just wanted Aizawa and the Pussycats to know about my current condition.

And then they said something about us having to make our own dinner. This was seriously the luckiest day for me.

Iida motivated us all, and I got scared by the sudden hand gripping my wrist and dragging me somewhere. I'm scared, who are you? I'm gonna trip and fall to my own death. Can you slow down a bit, please? I'm blind.

"You're gonna pay for ignoring me yesterday, asshole," Oh, it was just Bakugou.

Wait, it's Bakugou! That's not a good thing at all!

"Katsuki, wait," I forced my feet on the ground, attempting to stop his momentum and making him stop for a bit. Didn't work, "Wait!" By now I was pulling my arm back, I wanted to get free from his grip, but I couldn't, "Bakugou! Stop, I can't-!" Suddenly, he freed me, and due to me still pulling back, I fell on my ass, hard.

"Why?" I caressed my (left/right) wrist trying to soothe the burning pain on my skin.

"I can't see..." I told him, barely above a whisper. I heard the shuffle of his clothes as he moved and then his hand under my chin, lifting my head. He let out a soft gasp, which made me assume he saw my eyes.

I knew of this because of my family and Hitoshi. The colour I see covers my entire eye, my pupil and my sclera. Either being white, a tone of grey or completely black.

"I've overused my quirk, this a drawback of it," I mumbled softly and I felt his arms helping me up, and then he was walking again, just in the opposite direction, "Where are we going?"

"With Aizawa."

//////

I explained to Aizawa what happened and he told me to sit by his side while I got my sight back, my ears could hear how some of my classmates were asking why I wasn't doing anything, but Aizawa told them to shut up and cook. Every now and then, Bakugou came up to me and asked how I was doing, which made me happy, because I could hear the concern in his words.

But thankfully, a few minutes after everyone finished their meal, my sight got back to normal, and I happily enjoyed my plate full of curry.

#paralyze fic #bakugou katsuki fanfic #bakugou x male #bakugou x male reader #male reader #reader insert #x reader

[invisibleraven]

''do you need a hug?'' / jayla

Kayla clung tight to her nana's hand as she lead her to her classroom. She didn't realize when she told her she would be going to 'big school' it would be quite so well-big.

Every person seemed to tower over her, the hallways seemed endless, and Kayla honestly wanted to go back to daycare where she could sit with Lavender and read books or play puppets with Ollie. She already knew all her colours and letters, what did she need school for?

But nana said she had to go, and what nana said went. She was sure her parents would let her stay home with them, but they were travelling right now, and they had put nana in charge.

They arrived a a big door, covered in cheerful cartoon insects and rainbows, which Kayla thought was super cool, but she also knew it meant they were at her room. Nana knelt down before her. "Now bao bao, you'll be okay," she assured her. "Your teacher will help you and I'm sure you'll make lots of new friends before you know it."

"Are you sure I hafta go?" Kayla asked.

"Very sure," Nana stated. "You need to learn all about the world, so you can help make it a better place, just like your grandfather and I did, and your parents are right now."

"Okay," Kayla whispered. "Are you coming back for me?"

"At the end of the day I'll be waiting right here," she assured Kayla. "Maybe you can draw me a picture for the fridge today?"

"You said there's no more room!" Kayla giggled wetly.

"Well I'm sure I can make some," Nana said. "Now, come on, let's go meet your teacher."

Kayla's teacher, Miss Honey was perfectly lovely, as it were. She even showed her where all the paints were, and told Kayla she could create whatever she wanted until the bell rang.

Kayla was so enthused by this she didn't even notice her nana slipping out until she turned to show her the rainbow she had made. "Nana?" she said with a sniffle.

"It's okay," a little girl with fluffy pigtails said. "She'll come back. My papi always comes back for me."

"Really?" Kayla asked, wiping at her tears, and smiling when the girl offered her a gap toothed grin.

"Really!" She then bounced a little. "I'm Julie! We should be best friends!"

"Kayla, and I would like that!" But then she sniffled again. "But I'm still sad."

"It's okay to be sad. Do you want a hug? Hugs always make me feel better," Julie offered. Kayla nodded and found herself in Julie's arms, a warm squeeze and a rock back and forth before Julie let go. "There, do you feel better?"

"A little," Kayla admitted. "Can I have another hug later if I get sad again?"

"You can have as many hugs as you like!" Julie exclaimed. "I love hugs and my mami says they never run out, isn't that cool?"

"Very cool," Kayla replied.

"DO you wanna do another painting?" Julie asked. "I really liked your rainbow. Or we can go to the music area, Miss Honey lets us use the instruments at circle time, we even have dance parties!"

"I love to dance!" Kayla shrieked.

"Well let's go!" Julie yelled, yanking Kayla towards an area of the room where there was a sound system and a pile of instruments. She couldn't keep the smile off her face as they wiggled and hopped around, singing along to the songs she remembered, and even impressing Julie with her little made up dance to one song.

"I'm so glad you're my best friend," Julie said as she tried to imitate Kayla.

"Me too," Kayla replied, opening her arms, and Julie beamed as she raced into them. She wasn't sad, but she really enjoyed the hug, and like Julie said, they never ran out right?

It turns out that no, they never did, and Julie was always there to give them to her-for the rest of their lives.

#filled prompts #ficlet #jayla #julie and the phantoms

[pinkuclown]

I need to get this out of my head.

Listen, I love it when people write and draw things about Shirakumo coming back where everyone is happy and everything is a lovely pink colour BUT I NEED ANGST

I need the three of them to go through real problems if this ever happened.

First of all: Was Shirakumo conscious while being Kurogiri? If he was, would he be able to remember his friends? Or would Yamada and Aizawa have to put the puzzle back together in his head for his memories come back?

I personally like the first one where he remembers everything, because there would be trust between Shirakumo and the other two.

Now according to that

Aizawa (I don't have too many thoughts about him)

It takes him a really long time to get comfortable with Shirakumo's presence again

If you didn't know the whole thing, you would though that Aizawa doesn't like Shirakumo at all

That's not true though

He's just afraid to get attached and lose him again

He avoids him most of the time

And obviously feels really guilty about it

and him being there is not helping at all

He still takes care of Eri

He eventually starts to get along with him after a couple of months

Yamada

He takes care of Shirakumo 24/7

Literally, they both live in the same house

Hizashi moved this radio studio to the house

Why? Shirakumo is VERY unstable when he's alone for longs periods of time

And by long periods I mean 3-4 hours

Hizashi gets tired of this sometimes

But hey, it's his friend after all right?

Shirakumo is the one that needs help right now

"It's ok, we can do this" he repeats to himself on every night Shirakumo can't sleep

He sometimes feels like a single mother taking care of the child she didn't want in first place

He would never hate him, but sometimes he wants things to be like when he wasn't around.

And can't help to feel like shit. Like, damn

He knows that Shirakumo's having his fifth panic attack of the day but he literally offered to take care of him? Even though he was warned about everything, he still signed up for it

Because leaving him with the hero security shit wasn't an option

Shirakumo

His quirk is now the same as Kurogiri's

When he was "brought back", he went in coma for almost two months

His family was notified during that

And when he woke up, he literally couldn't walk or even talk

Like when you haven't played a game in a long time and you forgot even the simplest things

With Recovery Girl and Eric's help, it took him a month and a half to properly communicate and like six months to stand or walk without help

The only thing that he has to wear is a flexible metal piece to support his head into his column

Hizashi was with him during the whole recovery. Aizawa usually checked on them but mainly Hizashi, it was almost all in his shoulders after all

He was later informed about Nemuri. He was sad of course, but not really surprised since she never showed up in those almost ten months

He's not the sunshine boy he was before

As I said before, he remembers everything: before and after the accident.

Even some fragments of an old man using his body as an experiment

He knows he used to be nothing like he is now, both mentally and physically

that really messes up with him

Shirakumo usually struggles a lot with his appearance. Reflective things are in the top 5 things that he now hates

He is much more irritable than before, but he tries his best to not kill those loud blondes dudes from both hero courses

And struggles a lot with nightmares

He feels guilty. Everyone is so worried about him and he hates that

He wants to pretend that he's ok even tho he can go days without sleeping

He also hates that Hizashi won't rest as well

When they're at UA, Shirakumo stays with Yamada

And sometimes Eri, because she's the other one person that Shirakumo gets along with. She thinks that Shirakumo is really sweet and calm, and she also enjoys coloring books with him

When he's with Yamada, it's like watching a puppy follow someone everywhere

When his friend is teaching, he brings a chair and sit with him at the desk and sometimes helps student with their English homework

He still wants to be a hero

So after being fully used to everything, Principal Nezu lets him join the hero course, despite him being like 20 by that time

It's not his fault after all

Edit: for the first year, Shirakumo had a lot of migraines at random times. He also could be walking normally and from one moment to another, he would have been taken to see Recovery Girl because he randomly passed out in the hallway

So yeah, that's all I have to say for now

If you're still here, thanks for reading

#loud cloud #bnha oboro #bnha shirakumo #shirakumo oboro #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #eraserhead #present mic #yamada hizashi #hizashi yamada #eri chan #eri bnha #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #kuroboro #oboro shirakumo #mha oboro

[godsburnttoast]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚

TUTORIAL ☆ peyote stitch cuff!

this is easily the simplest cuff i know how to do, and it's my favourite! while it's easy, this tends to use more than 80 beads, so make sure you have enough.

MATERIALS

☆ elastic string, one arms length ☆ 45 beads of one colour (I used pink) ☆ 45 beads of one colour (I used purple) ☆ scissors

DIFFICULTY ☆ it's very easy

STEP ONE

string an even amount of beads onto some elastic string. i'm using pink and purple!

STEP TWO

string one bead of the colour you just put on. then, loop the string through the purple bead.

STEP THREE

repeat with another pink bead and pull tight. If it's not perfect, don't worry! there will be plenty of time to make it tight again.

STEP FOUR

take a purple bead and loop the string through the pink bead. repeat with another purple bead. repeat this process until the cuff fits comfortably on your wrist, you shouldn't have to pull it for it to fit.

here it is with ten rows, don't forget to pull it tight after every row!

and again with 30 rows! remember that the two ends should fit like a puzzle piece when you are ready to finish off.

STEP FIVE

take the string and loop it through the pink bead on the other end of the cuff. Repeat with the purple bead.

do this until it's one, long string of beads. i've tried to draw what it should look like, the string should zig-zag through the beads. pull tight and tie off!

and done! here's a rainbow one made with the same method, but with 6 rows instead of 4. you can add as many rows as you want, so long as it's an even number.

NOTE: the 45 bead estimate might be too many or not enough for you. i actually need 38, but i have a slim wrist. just make it to however long you need it to be :)

hope this was helpful! if you need any help or clarification, i'd be more than happy to help!

don't forget to stay hydrated and have a good day!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚

#kandi #kandikid #kanditutorial #peyotestitch #first post #hey i really hope this helps #stay hydrated u dumb fuck

[crackedmosaic]

You could almost pretend she's sleeping.

It was never more obvious how close Laudna straddled the line between life and death as when she slept. In those early days it had scared you, that this wonderful new presence that changed your life for the better would silently wither away in the night. You used to creep closer, watching that agonisingly slow draw of breath and release that was barely noticeable until your anxiety eased.

So you tried to pretend. You stared at the sharp angles of her face as your fingertips traced over her features, skin as cold as you have always known it to be. Laudna was as beautiful as she was scary. There was something about her features that was uncanny and became pure nightmare fuel for many when she assumed her form of dread, but always beautiful. At least you thought so.

It wasn't working. Laudna was too still. You were too accustomed to the slight movements that indicated a flicker of life. And that damned yellow cloth kept catching your eye. Your favourite colour.

It was your favourite colour. It used to remind you of the few precious memories of your childhood that were happy, of dandelions growing in meadows that you galloped through on Flora, of a fantasy of a mother that loved you enough to stay. But now it reminded you of Paragon's Call, of Otohan. And now it was used as Laudna's shroud, a loud reminder that she was lost. It looked so ugly on her. It wasn't her colour.

The worst thing though was the silence. Maybe it was a mistake to be inside the hole, but you weren't strong enough to lift Laudna out of such a high ledge and you weren't just going to dump her body out. There was no one else around to mask the fact that there was no gentle murmur of a sleeping mind beside you. That's what unsettled you most of all and made tears prickle at your eyes. The thought of never hearing that sing-song voice that only spoke in earnest ever again was devastating.

'Laudna?' You tried reaching out to her with your mind, hopefully, desperately. 'Laudna, please come back to me.'

Nothing.

A high keening sound came from the back of your throat as you slammed your eyes shut. No, you weren't going to cry. You can't. Doing so would be accepting this and you weren't going to do that. Laudna wasn't gone. FCG had been considerate when he suggested some sort of service, but it was unneeded. You were going to get her back.

You thought about contacting Delilah, not for the first time. She had brought Laudna back last time, she could do it again. You almost started the sending spell on instinct, but stopped yourself. You were still too fragile and you were not going to let that bitch have the satisfaction of hearing you let out a sob. You would, soon, but not now.

You turned your attention back to Laudna. She wasn't here, but she wasn't gone. You would make sure of it.

'I never... I never told you how much you really mean to me. I wanted to, but I didn't want to lose you. I refuse to lose you. You're my favourite thing in this world, Laudna. I'm going to bring you back. No matter what it takes.'

#critical role spoilers #critical role #cr spoilers #c3e35 #drabble #fanfic #angst #tw: dead body #tw: death #these two are going to be the death of me #I'm not going to last two weeks #Imodna #imogen temult #laudna #southern gothic

[microwavedautism]

I am going to rant about my two Hazbin Ocs because my brain wants to think about them tonight and I don't want to get my information fucked up

So. We have Captain Widow, known by her friends as Amelia. This is her casual look, she dresses like a pirate otherwise. She, unlike most other sinners her age, isn't against embracing the modern.

She was born in 1596 and died 1643. She doesn't remember her place of birth, but it was somewhere around England. She was married at 15, but ended up killing him and running away after three years of putting up with him.

She ended up in a pirate crew a few years later, and eventually took over the ship once the previous captain died.

Don't misunderstand her, she is a very sadistic woman, but she tries to pick her targets carefully. When she was on land she'd go around killing off abusive husbands and the like. Occasionally she'd bring the wife onto her crew.

Her crew was almost entirely women, sides from the two queer teenage boys she'd picked up.

She ended up drowning, turns out she wasn't too experienced at swimming with a broken leg!

In Hell, she looked pretty much the same as she did alive, but with six more eyes then she was used to, two more arms and fins for ears.

She now is an overlord who runs several fighting rings and gyms around the city. All of the souls under contract with her are sinners she personally tracked down, kidnapped and tortured them into giving their soul to her. Her contracts are things like "You give me your soul and in turn I will no longer harm you."

Those sinners are now training dummies or punching bags for her establishments! Afterall, it's not HER harming them, it's everyone else!

--

Now we have Gaspard, 'the artist'. A french painter from the 1400s. It's been quite a while, the only thing he remembers is the century, not the day he was born or the day he died, or even how! He was 37 when he died, he remembers that at least!

He looks more human than most sinners, aside from the fact he is completely greyscale. His body is like a messy 3d sketch, the lines are always changing slightly when he moves, like someones animating him but can't quite keep the lines the same.

When he was alive, not many people knew him. He made an effort to keep to himself, unless he was looking for a new muse or restocking his supplies.

He'd stay locked up in his apartment, spending hours and hours working on his latest piece. He'd done sculpting, he'd done drawing, he'd done everything. But painting was always his favourite. He enjoyed how the colours mixed, especially with the subjects he drew.

See, he would stay out, looking for people who caught his attention. When he found someone, he'd bring them to his apartment, willingly or not, and pose them. Sometimes they lived for a while whilst being posed, most of the time not.

He'd paint the most beautiful of women on their knees... with their hands up above their head and their guts spilling out.

He would paint handsome men, with nothing but their hearts remaining.

He even painted children! Though that was only once.. getting references for how skipping with intestines worked was quite difficult.

Needless to say, he was a horrific serial killer with a fucked up sense of beauty.

He continued his art in the afterlife, only this time. He had plenty of models to choose from!

It's surprisingly easy to get peoples souls, so long as you have a way to protect them from extermination!

And if that 'protection' just so happens to be eternal imprisonment in a canvas well... thats not his fault, they should've been more clear with what they meant, protection is such a loose term really.

After all, what angel is going to attack a painting?

#hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel #oc #original character