#dont think about the fact that i forgot the white streak

[metfell]

Do you have any advice for drawing with markers? I'm trying to improve and wondering how you do it so well

alright yes i do. okay so markers are all about LAYERS of color. so here's some WIP's of a work i did recently we'll walk through some tips.

so step one here is the sketch. you'll want to get either a kneaded eraser or just be careful, and lightly erase over the entire image. this picks up loose graphite, and keeps your markers from smearing gray across the entire thing.

so i lay down a base layer. this isnt actually one marker though, its three. using the lightest marker, block out everywhere youre going to color. use circular motions or a brushtip if you can to avoid streaking like what's in this shot. then, if you have markers of very similar hues, begin darkening the picture where you need to. in this case, it was the ears and side of the nose.

remember: YOU CAN ALWAYS GO DARKER, YOU CANNOT GO LIGHTER.

i then went in to block in her makeup, the tulip, and darken some of the shadows. you can see specifically in the ears and neck that ive used the smaller tip of my chisel markers to slowly transition it from one marker to another. blending doesnt exist in markers. you just need to IMPLY a gradient. the flower is a good example as well. use multiple markers, and slowly make your way from one half of the gradient to the other.

a lot of what i can do is due to the fact i have so many markers. if you need large marker packs and cannot afford copics, try arrtx. that's what i used for the flower in this.

when i draw hair- something i know people want to know about a lot- i start with my lightest color, and sketch in the directions the hair is flowing. for stelle here, her bangs swoop down and to the right, so thats the direction i will lay down those colors. its like painting.

also in this, you can see how deep ive made the insides of her ears, and how ive used a dark gray to line her face and give it shape.

this shot is also a good example to show how i fucked up on her earrings, and since i cannot go lighter, theyre going to be tinted gray now. just something i forgot to keep in mind.

alright theres a lot to talk about in this one. firstly, let's talk about UNDERTONES. to give your piece more depth and life, you can go in with other colors besides your main shading color- in my case, gray- to make the piece pop. ive switched to a light purple, and have added it as a highlight to her cheeks, tips of her ears, and hair. it brings out her hair, and makes it seem fuller. less flat.

a lot of how i use markers is with curved strokes and many colors to sculpt out an image, rather than just filling in the lines. this is why i add line art last.

okay one step at a time with the finished picture.

first step here is line art. youll notice how i dont harshly outline every single part of the piece. instead, i lightly go around areas i think need defining. i outline her horn cuff, i outline her ears, her eyes, and then i loosely go around her hair with similar strokes to when i sketched it in the first place.

second step is a white gel pen. it can be a simple jelly roller theyre really cheap. just make sure it works. if your pen isnt rolling smoothly, try warming it up in your hands by rubbing it quickly between them. if not, try multiple pens before buying them. bring a piece of paper to your local michaels or hobby lobby or other craft store, and see if it rolls smoothly on YOUR paper. then, go around anywhere that needs a highlight. i did this over her eye markings, her makeup, tiny dots over her earrings, and over her hair to once again round it out.

my final tip is to adjust your pictures in some kind of editor once you are finished. i went in just using the basic iphone settings, and messed around with it until it matched what i wanted the pic to look like. in this case, i turn the highlights to the left, and played around with the temperature and tint settings, and messed around with their basic filters. honestly, just play with it until you think it looks good.

those are my tips for coloring! i hope this is comprehensible!!

#art advice #metfell art #ask #anonymous

[wench-and-jezebel]

Devour Reaction:

Jezebel (@typicalopposite) reacts [with occasional asides by Wench (@scripted-downfall)]

Bby Ackles  [bby Ackles :)]

[Realizing that the entire movie is contained in the startup and you just.  don't realize it yet.  but anyway]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️

God his kids look just like him

Anne Kilton 👀🤣  [I KNOW! When I tell you this film has SPN vibes… Not a lie]

Dean!

Sir, that’s not- Leave.  Run!  Your white is showing

TF

THE FUCK IS HE DOING WITH THE GUTS  [The fact that you haven't gone hunting before is showing]  ☠️☠️☠️ Blechhhh

Now a baby???  BUDDY GTFO.  FLEE

Mysterious cabin in the woods

Nekked crying person

SIR

[The end.  He ded. Sorry, did you think Jackles was in the whole thing?  Oh wait :)]

The voice

[Weirdo monologues are back: Max-coded]  Talking in circles

Oh nooo drugs  [Dean-coded protective streak pt. 1]

TF [Dean-coded protective streak pt. 2]

[His jacket tho... Dean-coded]  RIGHT?!  But also… Wtf?! The kid was just gonna shoot them?!

Oooo, bitch

Wot.  Is happening.  [She was getting the champagne and intentionally being provocative]  Oh shit

She favors Kirsten Dunst  [Yup, agree]

Yeet.  You just gave the lagoon monster a weapon

Ma’am  [You mean that’s not how computers work?]

You burn candles on your laptop?  Again... Ma’am

“YeH, I pushed a button.”  You idjit.

“Watch your fucking language”  ☠️☠️☠️  [I hate his boss btw]

Alan Ackles has arrived

Bruh his dad reminds me of your dad 👀☠️  [ASDFASDFADF YOU'RE NOT WRONG]  Lemme find out you’re related to the Ackles  [I would pass the frick away]  I would too! ☠️☠️☠️

[Dean-coded protective streak pt. 3]

WOT

BRUH ITS WILD CHARLIE  [Dean-coded protective streak pt. 4]

[Buddy, I love you, but please ask why your friend is demanding your personal info and typing on a computer]  ☠️☠️☠️

Wait is this uncoolness again  [His friends are very uncool throughout the film: you'll see]

Huh.  Uh, y’all run.  HE CRAZY

[I love his acting in this scene.  The turkey line is so well done too aalksdfj]

WHY CANT THIS MAN HAVE GOOD FRIENDS???  EVER???

BRUH  [Did I mention friends putting personal information into random computer programs = not good idea?]  LIKE… dude!

Ohhh noooo

Bruh… I’m tripppinnn lol this movie is wild  [I KNOW RIGHT]

[Get ready for hate-his-boss hours]

BRUH

BRUH.  BRUHHHH!!!  WHAT AN ASSHOLEEEEEE!!

["You wouldn't have let Conrad sign you on" HE DIDN'T KNOW?!!?!?]  RIGHT?!?

Can this dude keep a mom!!??  [I say nothing… I love them tho]

[Dean-coded protective streak pt. 5]  😭😭😭😭

Say you want him in your pants/skirt without saying it ma’am

[This mom's better at the love-life-meddling than Mary]

He’s so cute thoooo  [I KNOWWWW]

☠️☠️☠️☠️ Buddy

[I love Jackles in this whole scene… His smirk/fist pump thing alskdfj *chef's kiss*]

He’s too cute… I can’t even  [I KNOWWWWWWWWWW]

Ma’am.

Sir.  

Masir.

It’s. Not. Like.  This.  What is she.  DOING.  TO HIS HEAD.  WHAT.  AM I WATCHING WOMAN???  I HAD TO TURN THE VOLUME DOWN.  ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️  [I did warn you about this scene]  

AND SHE JUST WALKS AWAY

[Okay, two things… a) I love Jackles playing the romantic type.  And b) the promised friend-uncoolness]  *huff sigh*

Bruh why does the voice on the phone sound like him 🤔🤔

Jump scareeee ☠️☠️

Bruh that’s the devilll run  [Okay, but.  To be fair.  His entire life is vaguely concerning rn.  Buddy's head ain't even safe]  

The smileeee!  Isss too cute  

Ooooof  Wench’s dad, run!

Oh shit  [He didn't run]  Reverse daydream???

Ah!  A k!  Ack!!!

Nope. I almost passed out for that one.  Bruh.

[Dean-coded protective streak pt. 6.  And continued friend uncoolness.  At least he apologized immediately, unlike SOME people] 🥺🥺

Uh ohhh he in trouble

Or something

Runnnnnn

[Oh, I forgot that intercourse bit, sorry.] Oooooof.  They ded.  [They did the deed in a horror movie; isn't that, like, a cardinal rule?]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️ Fair.  But they didn’t even get to finish

Buddy. DONT WALK INTO A CRIME SCENE.  [HE'S CONCERNED FOR HIS FRIEND; CUT HIM SOME SLACK]

OH SHIT THE TONGUE.  BLECH

[Dean-coded hug right there.]  WITH JODY  [And guilt complex.  Poor buddy getting blamed by other people again, too]  RIGHT!?  ["You coulda brought the gun to me" Yeah, you see how me reporting someone else's crime went this time; of course I could have]

Oh no sad music  [Buddy's friend just died; I think it's deserved alkdsfj]

Buddyyyy 🥺🥺🥺  Oh noooo

Oh nooooooo  [Wot?]  The little "son" got me

The way he says “Ok” *dissolves*

[I do like his "play it cool" line.  Is so cute alksdjf  Help]  

Clothes change  [Jonathan/Wayne Stranger Things jacket]

Oooop look at that he’s drinking  [also Wench's dad-coded]

[Jake's look when daddy grabs his arm is a bit.   Concerning.]  🥺🥺🥺🥺  Yep

*sigh*  Poor Jake/Tom/Dean

“Marisol”  Like aerosol  [alskdjf]

[Frecklessss!!!  That's the most pronounced I've ever seen them]  I KNOWWW

BRUH She got that crazy look in her eye.  Don’t go.  DONT BRING YOUR FRIEND.

*sigh*

[Did I mention romantic!Jackles is so great compared to the emotionally-repressed character he usually plays?  Like, nothing against those roles — I love them, too — but it’s a nice change.]  I KNOWWWWW!  IMAGINE.  JUST FREAKINGGGG IMAGINEEEEE.  HIM WOOING CAS LIKE THIS.  Poor buddy would combust!  [Is trueeee]

Aight… I’m calling it the pathway is them.  At least their voices.  They are calling themselves.

[Love her ringssss]  I knowwww

Blech.  Blechhhh!  Fingers

POOR BUDDY

Susssssspciousssss

I am Native American; I can confirm they probably do weird shit like that

Buddy only been with this girl 10 mins and she’s already pouring his coffee; I’ve been with my husband 15 years and he pours his own shit ☠️

FREAKING MOVIES KISSING. THOSE FIRST THREE WERE JUST FITTING THEIR MOUTHS TOGETHER

the cat  🤣☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ Tf

👀👀👀  I seeee you

Roar

[Get ready for more Dean-coded]

Well damn Jake can’t catch a break-

WHAT THE FUCK BUDDY HE DED

*sigh*

“Give rest o christ… cause you have took half our town already.  Please chill out”  (I’m going to hell)

[btw, SPN-coded lore-gathering session]  Right!  [The lights are pretty tho.  He be pretty too]

The priest is like this is ABOVE my pay grade

IF HE CUTS HIS TONGUE ONE MORE TIME AACKK

i just kept the tat… ya know… cause- ☠️☠️☠️

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️  [My dude slandering Metallica]

[The dog's name is Sammy asdlf *Now* who's getting replaced with a dog?!]

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

[I am waitinggggg for your reaction to the ending of this film btw; seems like is gonna be gold]  🤣🤣🤣🤣 [Edit: I was right. Be warned about the increase in cursing alskdjf]

Well shit.  Poor devil guy

Ooooooh the plotttt thickenssss

[Early Jackles films has him brooding and staring at things a lot]  🤣🤣🤣

More sitting, more staring  [tbf, buddy pulls off the Heathcliffe aura real well]

Ahh!  It came in handy!

Oooooooh!  Devil shit!

A GHOST

OH SHIT

why Jake gotta go to hell?  He’s so sweet  [You'll see]  And cute ☠️☠️

[WAIT OH HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD THAT’S AMES WHITE FROM DARK ANGEL]  What?!? 👀👀  [You'll understand the significance later… for now, @witchy-writer-lady and I shall keep the secrets]

👀👀👀

👀👀👀👀👀👀

OH WAIT!

OOH SHITTTT!!!

LE GASSSPPP!

[aka: this entire movie is trying to sell us on the fact that this lil ray of sunshine is the spawn of Satan laksfdj]

OH SHIT [Bye bye Ames]  WHOOOPSIE

BITCH YOU DED

[btw, um.  You thought that twist was something.  Wait for the next one.]  WAIT.  Is tarot girl ANNE?!?!  Pls Say- [I say nada]  Womannnnnnnn she gave him the smooches!  That’s not ok  [I DID NOT CONFIRM]  Like I know he is foineeee but it’s not ok! If it is the case

Oh shittttt

WHY WOULD YOU GRAB THE BLOODY KNIFEEEE??! BUDDY, WHATCHA DOIN THERE?!?!  [Okay but horror movie, weapon = good]

This fucking movieeeeee-  [Is not done yet] Is wilddddd

Ooof

Ohhhh shit… That’ll do it.  He gonna snap [aslkdjf]  And start killing with the pick axe  [ALSKDFJ]

[That was.  That was a yes on the momma thing.]  I CALLED IT. ACK.  ACKKKK.   ACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK.  KKKKKKKKKKKK.  KKKKKKKKKKK.  NOOOOOOOOOOO.

VSIDUEBEBSZKIZHSSGV  I CANT

I CANT

IMEOT

WOR

How type?  I can’t

DEVIL

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENINGGGGG

[Sam-letting-Dean-turn-into-a-vampire-scene-coded.  Which is kinda concerning given the.  Undertones.  of that scene.]  BLEHCH

WELL SHIT

SHORT END.  EVERYTIME

– – –

Endpoint Reaction:

Wench: I want you to know that I've been cackling at your reaction this whoel time

Jezebel: FUCK COFFEE I NEED LIQUOR ADTET THAT.  I STILL CANT TUPE

Wench: asdk

Jezebel: I’m just- Yeah.

Wench: I'm dying of laughter rn

Jezebel: I just…. What.  Why.  His mother.  She was his mother.  “I can be anything you need me to be”  HOW ABOUT A DECENT FUCKING MOTHER YOU MANIPULATIVE DEVIL BITCH

Wench: One of the few films where Jackles comes out with two parents still alive, and it’s only true because he had four at the beginning and lost two along the way aldskfj

Jezebel: Well, three, ‘cause he killed her too

Wench: Nah, she didn't die

Jezebel: Wtf.  But she was dead at the end, wasn’t she?

Wench: The human vessel was.  And that's a maybe.  We don't know for sure.  But she's definitely alive enough to force-feed him blood and shit, so

Jezebel: Oooh.  Blech.  His MOTHER.  Who wroteeee this shit.  Bleach.  I need bleach for my eyessss

Wench (aside to the audience): She’s never forgiving me.

Jezebel: I just  ☠️☠️☠️☠️  Ok I’m good I think

Wench: aklsjdf

Jezebel: It was a pretty good movie.  Until the end.  That happens a lot in Ackles case.

Wench: Do you see what I mean by, his acting was actually, like, really good?  Especially in that context?

Jezebel: Yess! Buddy just couldn’t get a good ending if it was standing right in front of him…  Ten Inch Hero next, so I can be equally pissed at the ending but in a happier tone.  Maybe tomorrow?

Wench: YEAH.  FINALLYYYY. Sandwich shoppe, here we come!

Jezebel: Ending note.  SHE WAS HIS FUCKINGMOTHER!?!?

#devour #devour 2005 #jake gray #jensen ackles #this was an adventure #jezebel (pr) #reactions #horror movie reactions #horror #horror movies

[raiain]

the earth knows

“part one”

#wilbur soot fanart #revivebur #dsmp fanart #mcyt fanart #animation #raiart #animation practice with the stinker man #dont think about the fact that i forgot the white streak #white streak in his hair #and he's not going #not going back there #raianimation

[hufflautia]

Where it all started [Part 1]

Chapter 1 

Sometimes links don’t appear on posts. if you can’t see the link to “Chapter 1”, my masterlist is pinned to the top of my blog, and you can find it there.

Summary: Slytherin’s parents have another argument, but at this point, no one’s surprised. After all, they’re her parents. It would be abnormal if they didn’t argue. However, this one’s a biggie. The fight ends with the slam of a door and her dad packing his bags into the car and getting ready to leave. Desperate for him to come back, Slytherin’s mom forces her to go to him with a message that will surely make him stay. Buckle up folks, for this is where it all began. 

Slytherin stood on the sidewalk as she watched her dad pack up his things into the van. 

She dug her fingernails into her arm, her heart stinging with ache as her dad turned around with a smile on his face, a failed attempt to reassure her that it was going to be ok. It was all gonna be ok. After all, this was normal, right? It’s not like it was unusual that her dad was leaving again to go back to Florida, where the homewrecker waited for him, her outstretched hands eagerly opened up to him and his credit card. 

However, this was the first time he left abruptly. A spike of sorrow stabbed at Slytherin’s heart as she thought back to the sound of her parents’ door abruptly opening; soon after, she could hear angry stomps that quickly descended down the steps of the staircase. 

She could almost hear the hiss in her ear as she stood in the archway of the living room, watching her dad leave in the far distance. “Tell him that Ravenclaw’s crying,” her mother spat, pushing her towards the front door. “Quickly, before he leaves!” 

Slytherin internally sighed. How typical. Instead of resolving their relationship issues by going to couples therapy, her mom decided to throw all those burdens onto her daughter, who had already grown tragically used to being used as her puppet. 

She decided not to argue against going after her dad and trying to guilt-trip him into staying home as her mom wanted. Otherwise, she would be lectured on how she’s selfish and wouldn’t do this small thing for her mom, how she’s basically ruining this family by letting her dad leave, how family is so fucking important and manipulating her dad into staying would be vital to their happiness as a whole, how family this and family that. 

You get the point. Slytherin certainly did. That’s why she was currently standing awkwardly behind her dad, staring at his back as he lifted boxes into his car. 

“Um, Raven…” She paused. Her throat felt dry and tight. Swallowing with difficulty, she tried again. “Ravenclaw’s crying.” 

It wasn’t the crying itself that mattered. That wasn’t the main reason why her mom rushed her out the door to deliver the message to her dad. It was simply the fact that it was Ravenclaw who was crying. Let’s just say that he and his dad had a complicated relationship. 

Things were never the same between them after Ravenclaw sent an angry message to him via text when he was in Florida a year ago. The contents of the message reeked of disdain for his constant infidelity. When his mom found out, she shoved the phone into Slytherin’s face in the dead of night and asked if she knew about this. The glaring light from the screen nearly blinded her. 

Slytherin read the text messages through squinted eyes and could make out a few curse words here and there. Though she was slightly disoriented from the sudden ambush of information, it was clear to her that her brother resented their dad for what he did.  

That made Ravenclaw’s anguish even more useful in their mom’s opinion. Seeing the tears streak down his face when he heard that his dad was leaving again, she had a glorious idea. Perhaps if her husband knew of their son’s sorrow, he would reconsider his abrupt departure. After all, it was Ravenclaw who was crying. 

If it were Hufflepuff, that would be understandable—she can get quite emotional sometimes. But it was Ravenclaw, who was usually guarded and distant. One might suggest that he was secretly broken inside. But that’s not the point, at least not in his mom’s opinion. The main thing she was concerned about was that she could use his misery to her advantage! Maybe if her husband knew of his sadness, he would feel guilty enough to stay behind. After all, if his son, who despised him, was upset over his departure, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to stay home and endure his wife’s temper for a little while longer. 

Slytherin’s words did produce somewhat of a reaction. Her dad didn’t turn around for a while, but when he did, his eyes were slightly red and puffy. It was evident that he was trying to hold back his tears. One might think that this means that he’ll stay. He seemed distraught over the news that his son was crying because of his leave. Surely, he’ll stay, right? 

It wasn’t enough. Nothing ever seems to be enough.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” He hugged her briefly and gave a light squeeze as a sign of reassurance. As a silent message that it was going to be ok. Even though everything was most definitely not okay. A thousand hugs and gestures of reassurance wouldn’t change this. 

Slytherin didn’t react angrily to his refusal, the unspoken declaration of No, I will not go back home. In fact, it seemed as if she didn’t react at all. However, if one were paying close attention, they would notice the sparkle in her eyes dim. But maybe there wasn’t a sparkle to begin with. She had been enduring this shit for so long that she forgot what it was like to be normal, to feel like the white kid you see in commercials, the one who seemed to radiate mirth, a type of energy that said, I don’t have a care in the world because life is so fucking great and I can’t stop smiling. She didn’t even bother to smile, a common facial expression when one is in a difficult situation and tries to diffuse the somber atmosphere by slapping a facade on their face, the corners of their lips upturned to form a grimace that resembles some sort of a smile—a twisted kind of smile, that’s for sure. Why should she pretend that everything was okay when it wasn’t? Instead, she merely nodded in response. 

When her dad pulled away to pack the last box into the trunk, she took a deep breath to diminish the familiar sense of abandonment that flooded her senses, to clear the warning signs that flashed in her mind. He’s leaving! Your dad is leaving! He’s abandoning you again. You’re apparently not important enough for him to stay. 

She stared at the ground, only looking up when she heard the sound of a car door slamming shut. The resounding click was all it took for the waterfalls to finally pour from her eyes, for it was at this moment when she realized that this was actually happening. This was no dream—it was reality. Her sad, devastating reality. Tears blurred her vision as she watched the car drive away, leaving her in the dust. 

Slytherin gasped in erratic breaths between her broken sobs as her eyes hung onto the tiny speck that resembled her dad who was driving 

away, 

away, 

and a-w-a-y.

Through the jumble of thoughts that clashed in her head, one thing was clear. Her dad was her dad, but only sometimes. 

Tears streaking down her face, she tried to soothe her pain with the belief that he would be back soon. If only she had known that it would be a while before he returned. If only he hadn’t left. Perhaps things would’ve been different for her if he stayed, for this was where it started. 

This marked the beginning of it all.   

Comments and reblogs are a writer’s gold!

MASTERLIST ; sometimes links don’t appear on posts. if you can’t see the link to “MASTERLIST”, the masterlist itself is pinned to the top of my blog. check it out if you haven’t already! 

Author’s note: HI! Were you surprised to see that I posted two fics in a row?? I hope you enjoyed this. Most of it was unfortunately based on what happened to me a year or two ago. I based Ravenclaw on my brother, who did actually cry when my dad was leaving after an argument, and yes, my wack mother did force me to run after my dad to tell him. One of the few differences is that I’m not a drug addict and I’m fine now so dont worry. 

Idk how I feel about this series, it is a lot darker from what I usually write. I know I’m gonna have to write more for creative writing class, so maybe i will continue it. I will try to think of how to turn these fics into something more positive, because this stuff is very heavy and depressing. however, that will be a little difficult because the plot itself is naturally drab. however, i will try to think of a happy ending for Faye/Slytherin. 

Shall we look at some wholesome pictures? 

lmaoaoa i pasted this picture from the internet and tumblr glitched and pushed the pic all the way to the top. imagine seeing this dog at the beginning of the fic, that would be funny :’) 

AWWWWWW I THINK THIS MIGHT BE MY FAVORITE

ok hold up i just realized that is probably a stuffed animal 😐 this is so embarassing lmaoaoa when i saw it i was like THAT IS SO FRICKIN CUTE

OK WAIT WTF NOW I THINK ITS AN ACTUAL DOG??? CAN SOMEONE HELP AND TELL ME IF ITS REAL OR NOT?!! at first, i thought it was real, but then i looked at the paws and it looked kinda fake and i was like this dog is too fluffy and wholesome to be real. BUT THEN I LOOKED AGAIN and i think the owners just put the pooh outfit over the dog?? what is going on with my brain.. but at the same time, its 2 am for me rn so maybe i should get some sleep BUT FIRST, LETS LOOK AT MORE DOGS <3 (lmaoaoa i feel like my friend would say “gosh ur such a hufflepuff” (menna im talking about u lmao omg hey gorl)) 

After seeing this gryffindor pup, i immediately searched up “dog costumes hufflepuff” lmaoooooo

OK THATS ENOUGH DOGS FOR NOW. Part 2 is coming soon. I already have it ready but I might not post it right away. 

That’s all for now. Be sure to let me know what you think. TOODELOOO!

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#Hogwarts #harry potter #slytherpuff #hufflepuff x slytherin #hufflepuff #slytherin #hogwarts imagine #hogwarts houses #hogwarts would include #harry potter would include #slytherin x hufflepuff #ravenclaw #gryffindor #hufflepuff-x-slytherin #slytherin-x-hufflepuff #slytherin and hufflepuff #hufflepuff and slytherin #slytherin friendship #hufflepuff friendship #cedric diggory #hufflepuff pride #slowburn #hogwarts fanfiction #harry potter oneshot #hufflepuff and slytherin fanfiction #slytherpuff friendship #harry potter fanfiction #ravenclaw and slytherin #slytherin and ravenclaw #ravenclaw and hufflepuff

[sennextheassasinkingoflight]

"I'll Always Stay"

Witcher fic. Pre slash Geraskier fic. Rated T and up for minor swearing, blood and gore.

Cross posted on AO3

Geralt and Jaskier get into a fight. Geralt gets injured. Jaskier takes care of him. (Fae Jaskier.)

(Still figuring out read more links on mobile. Help!)

It wasn't as though he had never seen Geralt injured; or that he had never stitched torn and bloodied flesh back together, while the witcher sat brooding beside him; or like he hadn't learned all the witchers potions, how to make them, what they do, how and when they should be administered. But this. This was different.

Geralt was unconscious on the ground beside him. He was without armor, and based on the the amount of blood covering pale skin he wasn't sure that he'd even been wearing it when he was attacked. He'd had it when he'd stormed out of camp with a growled, 

"Fuck off." 

The witcher had not gone on a hunt. No, that would have been good. Would have settled Jaskiers heart, if only a little. No, instead he had stalked off into the moonless night because they were fighting and he was done with Jaskier and the conversation. When he hadn't returned by midnight Jaskiers unease grew, blossoming dread in his chest and reaching out with tendrils, spreading to Roach and filling the clearing of their campsite. Setting his jaw and recognizing he was being reckless and quiet foolhardy he started into the darkness. Concern squeezed at his heart and weighed like lead in his chest. The darkness was consuming. 

He was blind in the darkness and it was by sheer luck alone that he found the witcher at all. Or so, he would say. Now he wishes he was closer to camp and that he had brought more than a single vile of Swallow. He glances around the blackened clearing and though his eyes had adjusted a little he can't see anything now. He's far to close to continue using his magic. Blindly he gropes for one of Geralts swords, anything, fear prickling his skin, raising the hair on his neck and arms. If Geralt had been rendered unconscious and bloody than it would be in Jaskiers best sense to run back to camp and stay there. 

With one of the witchers too heavy sword, slick with blood in his hands, he knelt over his friend and listened for too slow breathes, feeling for a too slow pulse. Watching the barely there rise and fall of a bruised and bloodied chest. When he found it he foracably swallowed back his panic, thrusting it from his mind. With shaking hands Jaskier lifted a white clad head into his lap, hair more pink than white.  Finally he pulled the vial of Swallow from his pocket and slowly tipped it into an unresponsive mouth. He brushed his fingers down Geralts throat, coaxing it into contracting and swallowing the potion. It was a slow process. 

A few moments later, Jaskier huffs out a small sigh of relief. Geralt is breathing easier, if only just. There is no way to get the witcher back to camp and it's too dark to see the full extent of injuries, or find his other sword, and let's not forget the creature that was lurking somewhere in the shadows. Without thinking about it he let his magic sleep out around him. That would keep whatever it was away. He swallowed, it was a calculated risk. And perhaps Geralt would be to out of it to notice it in the morning. 

He'd spent so long with humans he'd nearly forgot he had it. Still he dare not use it on Geralt unless there was no other option. That the witcher would notice immediately. So instead he whispers, "I'm sorry." 

Sorry he can't use his very nature to save his friends life. Maybe one day. Sorry for the things he had said. Sorry that Geralt had been injured. Sorry for everything he'd done that annoyed, hurt, or angered the witcher. 

While he waited for the sun to rise, he ran delicate musicians fingers through coarse, sticky hair. Guilt resting around him like a cloak. As the grey light of dawn rose he felt like an idiot forgetting he could have used his magic to take stock of Geralts injuries at the least, he'd already let it lay lazily around the forest floor. Panic had made him fuzzy. Though that too would have been a very calculated risk. If Geralt found out. Well…. Jaskier quiet liked his life as it was. 

The wounds were healing, slowly. Witchers mutations and potion at work. But it wasn't fast enough, congealed red blood oozed from the wounds, even now. hours later. Jaskiers fears to think what would have been if he had waited for the light to go looking. Slowly as not to strain or startle the still unconscious witcher he extricated himself. He hated what he was about to do but it was necessary. He moved quickly, quicker than this form should have moved. He returned to and broke camp quickly and Roach followed him with a soft neigh. 

He turns to her and whispers softly. 

"Don't tell him please." He holds eye contact with her until she snorts into his shoulder. This really shouldn't be a concern right now. But it is. 

When he returned to Geralts side he collected his silver sword, gingerly, and placed it with the steel. He gathered up shredded armor, and for all his vast knowledge of magical creatures, more than he let's on, he has no idea what did this.  He swallowed harshly. This was not good. 

He built a fire and set water to boil. Doing things the mortal way was not his favorite thing. He notes absently that their supplies are running low. He gathers another bottle of Swallow and again coaxes it down Geralts throat. Finished he set about creating a salve or potion. Anything that would help his friend. With the water ready he set about washing away the blood and dirt from the front of Geralts torso. He couldn't reach his back and hoped it wasn't as bad. Although the fact that the injuries were this severe on his stomach was disheartening and highly concerning. 

Really he hadn't meant to make him angry. But he had been cold, wet, hungry and they had been traveling for 3 days straight stopping only for a few hours of sleep. Not a problem if he wasn't hiding what he is from the witcher, remarkably well at that. And Geralt hadn't told him anything. Hadn't said where the were going, what they were doing. And he'd known the moment the words left his mouth, he'd known he had completely and irrevocably fucked up. So he'd spent the next five hours apologizing profusely for his mistake. Saying that he hadn't meant it he'd only been angry. It wasn't true. It was never true. The witcher had decided to set camp and then stormed off into the dark effectively ending the conversation. Uncertain what to do he had tended Roach and the fire. He hadn't even attempted to compose. Then he'd just listened in silence and darkness for Geralt to return thinking about how to make it right. 

Now he was sitting on his knees in the dirt beside his wounded friend who could very well die. He told himself to stop thinking like that.he'd give himself away before he actually let Geralt die. 

He continued peeling back torn remnants of clothing, soaking bits that were stubbornly stuck and then removing them completely. He washed as he went removing dirt and congealed blood with water then antiseptic. He knows it has to sting a ridiculous amount  and is grateful the witcher is still unconscious. 

The cuts are deep. The flesh is torn and ragged like it had been ripped from bone; the cuts were not clean and sliced. They are deep and he pulls back flesh to make sure its clean. Infection has likely already begun to set in. Once he's satisfied that the wounds are as clean as they can be he sets to work stitching the flesh. 

It isn't pretty work. And his stitches, though practiced, are not beautiful against ashen skin. They're uneven and some are a little tight others a little loose. But he's a bard. He is not a surgeon or a seamster. Still it's work that needs to be done so he bites his lip and let's hands accustomed to playing strings guide one through muscle and skin. 

He swallows down bile. Guilt returning as the stitched wounds continue to ooze blood. If only he hadn't riled him up, hadn't let him stalk off into the darkness of night, angry and alone. 

He continues to work with nimble fingers on the skin he can see. At some point he lost track of how many stitches he had run. Finished with the visible portion of Geralts torso he smears a thick salve across it. He can't bandage it now. He has to wait for the witcher to sit up. And he prays to every deity he can think of that he isn't badly injured on his back. He clenches his teeth, bounces his leg, and let his eyes roam over Geralts prone form. "Wake up" he thinks desperate with nervousness. Tears work their way towards his eyes, his throat constricting painfully. 

"Geralt please. I know. I was unkind. I didn't mean it. Truly. I swear it just slipped out. It was a low blow and I knew it would get a reaction. But I didn't mean it. I swear. I am so sorry. Please. Please don't die here Geralt. Don't die. Not yet. Not like this." He whispers leaning back against the tree head titled back silent tears streaking his face. He closes his eyes. He tells himself if there's no improvement by that night, he'll use his magic and hope against all odds the witcher doesn't send him away.  

Until Geralt woke up there was nothing more he could do. He keeps his eyes closed but doesn't sleep. Ears turned to the sound of breathing beside him. Time passes and the sun rises high overhead. A low groan pulls him from his heartache. 

"Geralt?" He pitches forward from the tree and scrambles to push the witcher back down. 

" Geralt! Stop. Dont sit up your injured. Badly." He frowns. The witcher lays back obediantly. Tired eyes scanning his surroundings. He nods and seems to relax. And the dread in the pit of Jaskiers stomach dissipates.

" I tended the injuries I could find." He starts quiet, just barely a whisper and then more confidently. " I'm sorry Geralt. Really. I- I am so sorry." He gets a grunt and the two stare at each other for a while. Geralts features hard, but he must see something in Jaskier that tells him undoubtedly that these words are true, because his brow unpinches and his jaw relaxes. The witcher let's out a long sigh. Then pushes himself up into a sitting position. and Jaskier goes from concerned his friend won't forgive him to concerned his friend is going to run off and never come back and die alone in the woods to hes not moving but now I can see his back, oh God I can see his bakc in the span of a single breath. 

"Your wounds are serious! Geralt you really shouldn't --" 

" Stop, Jaskier. There's a--" 

"Oh yes indeed. Stay put. I'll just grab the supplies." So he gathers up a fresh rag and the water he's kept warm and the salve and bandages. The needle and threading. Finally he settles himself behind Geralt and neither speaks. He hears the witcher inhale against the sting of the antiseptic.

"Two vials of Swallow. One when I found you. One 6 hours later, when I could see to get back to camp." He says dutifully, never looking away from his work. These arn't nearly as bad as the others. He works quickly so he can properly bandage the mess.

"Hand me the bandages." He says pulling the last stitch tight. And Geralt let's out a pained grunt as he reaches for them. Jaskier doesn't hesitate to begin winding them around the witchers torso. Arms bracketing the larger man far to intimately in the process. He pulls them just tightly enough, with well and overly practiced ease. He hesitates, then he moves back to Geralts side. 

He doesn't speak, just breathes. He's said his peace. He doesn't flinch under Geralts scrutiny as the man continues to look at him. 

"Your eyes seem bluer." 

"Crying." He says after a moment of silent panic.

"Hmm…. I'm sorry too." 

And he actually chokes on his own spit. What? He looks at Geralt and stretches a hand out to touch his forehead but the witcher holds eye contact. 

"Well then. I guess were squared away now?"

A nod. "I'm tired Jaskier." The witcher says eyes soft and unfocused as he reaches out a hand to brush fingers against the bards flushed cheek.

"Then sleep, Geralt. I'll stay."

"I'll always stay." 

#the witcherr #Geraskier #hurt comfort #mostly hurt #fae jaskier #major character injury #everyone lives

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Switch (Pt.2)

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Patton never really knew much about his past, well, the changeling part of it at least. In fact, he didnt even know that's what he was. He just knew that his ears were to big and his eyes were to bright and if he didnt stop smiling people would ask questions that he really didnt want to answer.

He knew who couldnt sing or dance outside of his treehouse, because when he did, people started acting very odd.

He knew that things were to loud for him, to loud, to bright, with to many other variables. He hated middle school for taking away recess, outside was the only place that didnt make him feel like a walking nightmare.

"Patton? Do you want to borrow my headphones?" Patton was snapped out of his reminiscing by a soft tap on his shoulder.

"But Logie dont you need those?" Patton replied.

"You cant wear your hoodie inside here, you need them more than me, I know how you get when your ears are visible," Logan said, taking the headphones off his own ears and handing them over. Patton stared for a few seconds before finally accepting the offer and situating them over his own ears.

"Thanks Logie," Patton said quietly, barely able to hear himself.

"Let's go get our schedules before homeroom starts yeah?" Logan said, ruffling Patton's hair.

"Oh yeah- I forgot about those," Patton said, giggling slightly. He stumbled slightly as someone else rushed past him, looking up to see who it was, he was met with something far different than expected.

"So sorry! I didnt see you-" said the boy. He had hair nearly as red as roses, which contrasted with his dark brown skin, which Patton noticed was marked with patches of lighter colors. His eyes were a dark green, almost like moss in a dense forest. Patton thought he looked like a dryad.

"Its alright- you didnt mean to-" Patton said, giggling slightly.

"Do you uh- have a name?" Said the boy, his face turned a noticeably darker shade.

"You can call me Patton," Patton replied, smiling.

"I'm Roman- my friends call me Ro-" Roman said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"And I'm Logan and we have a class to be in," Logan said, hurriedly grabbing Patton by the arm and rushing inside.

"Logie! I was talking!" Patton said, pouting slightly.

"I saw the face you were making, you just met him you disaster of a homosexual," Logan said.

"Well- you're a disaster to!" Patton said defensively.

"I dont fall in love nearly as easily as you Pat," Logan said, picking at a loose thread on his sweater.

"Let's just get our schedules," Patton said, not quite looking at his brother. Logan gave him a small smile before walking up to the row of papers lined on the wall that would give them their homerooms.

"We've got the same homeroom!" Patton said, excitedly pointing at a sheet of paper with the teacher name Mrs. Kitsune.

"That's good," Logan said with a grin. The pair of them walked to the class, Patton running his hands through the flowers in the school garden as they passed.

Mrs. Kitsune seemed a little above Patton's height, with thick silvery hair held back by a white headband and icy blue eyes. Patton thought she looked nice. But what really caught his attention was the back of the room, where Roman sat with a boy with messy black hair, which had a shockingly bright white streak down the center of it, and the beginnings of a mustache.

"Oh hey Patton! This is my brother Remus-" Roman said, gesturing to the boy sitting on the table.

"Oh this is the cute guy you were talking about? Ro if I didnt know any better I'd say you were purposely down playing him so I wouldnt take him for myself," Remus said, cackling. Patton's face flushed a deep shade of pink, which only served to enhance Remus' fit of laughter.

"Oh there you are Logie!" Patton said, grabbing Logan's arm and pulling him over to sit at the table in front of the twins.

"So what year are you guys in?" Roman asked.

"Both freshmen!" Patton said, leaning his head on his crossed arms.

"Remus and I are sophmores," Roman said, smiling.

"So you've already been here a year then? How good would you say their knowledge on neurodivergent kids is?" Logan said, Patton felt the excitement in his chest drop like a bolder.

"Its actually not to shabby! Teachers are required to take classes in conflict de-escalation and know the signs of stuff like panic attacks, dissociation, meltdowns, all that fun stuff," Remus said.

"And they're very attuned to physical disabilities, of course," Roman said, gesturing slightly to his leg, which Patton now realized was in fact, not made of skin.

"Wooooaaahhhh," Patton said quietly, looking over the sketches of what seemed to be sharpie along the prosthetic.

"Did all the artwork myself," Roman said, smiling. Remus elbowed him slightly.

"Ok, Remus did the roses," Roman said, laughing slightly.

"Yeah that's what I thought," Remus cackled.

"Its very pretty," Patton said, giggling. Logan rolled his eyes.

"Awe c'mon specs, hes just paying a compliment," Remus said.

"I'm aware," Logan said, unable to hide the slight grin on his face despite his exasperation.

They talked for a little while longer before their schedules were set on the tables.

"Hey wait a minute- how come you've only got electives?" Roman said, looking over Patton's schedule to see if they had any matching classes.

"Oh, I do all my core classes over summer," Patton said, looking away slightly.

"That's an option?" Remus said, looking bewildered.

"You have to talk to the counselor about it," Logan said.

"Oooohhhhhhh," Remus replied, looking at his hands.

"We dont really- like- talking to the counselors," Roman said.

"Me neither," Patton replied. They remained silent for a few more minutes before Logan let our a fairly loud sneeze, causing the other three to burst into laughter.

"Well it looks like you've got Astrology with Remus and Logan, gym with Remus and Theatre with me, so that should be fun," Roman said as they were about to leave.

"Yeah, I think it will," Patton said, now feeling much more confident about how his day was going to go.

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#cori writes #switch au #long post #ts patton #ts remus #ts sides #ts logan #ts roman #romantic royality #royality #intrulogical #romantic intrulogical #tw bullying #tw panic attack mention #tw breakdown mention

[calumcest]

as he faced the sun he cast no shadow

dont roast me for using oasis lyrics as the title also i think this is the shortest fic i’m humanly capable of writing 

Ashton doesn’t really realise he’s fallen out of love until it’s happened. 

He only half-remembers the first day, like someone else’s fever dream told to him the next morning. He remembers Luke’s face, strained and tight, telling him I can’t do this anymore, I can’t be with you anymore. He remembers his stomach bottoming out, his mind racing, his palms sweating, excuses and pleas stumbling over each other in their haste to leave his lips. He remembers his voice rising with the panic in his chest, remembers thinking wildly that even his breaths belonged to Luke as his words constricted Ashton’s lungs, threatening never to let go. He remembers the dial tone as Luke had hung up, screen blinking back to his contact list, remembers staring at it for a moment in disbelief, and then sinking to his knees. 

Three minutes for a three year relationship. That’s all Luke gave him. Luke had always known that Ashton’s biggest desire was his greatest weakness, and now Ashton knew it too. There was nothing of him to love. He was disposable. 

The first few months were the worst. Ashton doesn’t remember those. June, July and August were nothing to him. In years to come (and Ashton remembers wondering if there would be such things) he will have no recollection of his twenty-sixth birthday. 

He remembers flashes. He’d drifted through the days, making empty promises about feeling fine without having any concept of what ‘fine’ felt like. He knows he didn’t listen to music for over a month, because it was completely futile, completely meaningless. He knows he couldn’t fall asleep normally anymore, having to stay up until six a.m. to make sure he was so exhausted he wouldn’t be able to think, because the only thought that could form in the muddle of his mind was how worthless he was. He doesn’t remember the pain he felt but remembers it being the first time he’d felt so much pain that he couldn’t feel it anymore, like breaking a bone. He’d been so relieved for the numbness and so frightened of it, because he’d known at some point it would all come crashing down, a dam built of paper and straw. 

Time had moved wrong. He remembers standing under the shower at the gym and it taking twice as long to automatically turn off. He remembers turning it up to the highest heat, hoping the hot water on his skin would make him feel something, force the pain to hit. He’d feel nothing, yet look down and see bright red staring back at him like a warning. 

Twice a week, he’d paid to display all of his worthlessness, his unloveable nature. He’d wept. His voice had cracked. And then he’d cleared his throat, blinked salt water away, smiled, thanked her, left. She’d said she saw nothing behind his eyes, but she was trained to notice. Nobody else saw, and that was all that mattered. 

Everything was Luke for such a long time that Ashton barely even noticed it. He’d see food and think of Luke, hear songs and think of Luke, smell the lingering scent of someone walking past and think of Luke. Luke crowded into every corner of his mind, every topic of his conversation. There was nothing Ashton could see or think or do without thinking of Luke. 

For example, Luke had always saluted magpies, and Ashton never had. 

(“It’s bad luck not to,” he’d said indignantly, when Ashton had laughed at him the first time he saw him do it. Ashton had rolled his eyes, but he’d found himself starting to salute on autopilot when he spotted a little black and white bird in the distance.) 

He remembers the first time he saw a magpie after Luke, remembers the way he hesitated for a moment before touching his fingers to his forehead. He specifically remembers thinking about Luke then, a raw slash to his heart, knowing that somewhere, forty miles away, Luke was saluting another magpie, not knowing what Ashton knew - it was in vain. 

Calum had taken him on holiday. A change of scenery, he’d said. Somewhere that doesn’t remind you of Luke. 

Italy. 

Ashton remembers the hot sun, but he doesn’t remember how it felt on his skin. He remembers the bright afternoons, but he doesn’t remember how they made him squint. He remembers the sea breeze, but he doesn’t remember if it made him shiver. 

Calum had taken him to a church, a beautiful white building tucked in the corner of a flagstone plaza, as though he knew what Ashton needed. 

Ashton hadn’t prayed in years. He hadn’t believed in even longer, but he was so desperate that he’d grasped at the straw Calum had handed to him, sat on a dusty wooden pew with his eyes cast to the ornate painted ceiling. 

Please, he remembers thinking silently, wildly. You might think you know better, but you don’t. I need Luke. I can’t live without him. 

No one had responded, but Ashton had left feeling a little lighter, a weight off the heaviness he hadn’t even noticed before. 

After that, things got a little easier. 

He could laugh without it being meaningless. He could think. He could focus. He still couldn’t sleep, couldn’t let his mind wander, couldn’t be alone, but he could breathe. He’d thrown himself into the music, picking up the sticks he hadn’t touched in months and drumming, writing, drumming, writing. Calum had finally lost the crease between his eyebrows when Ashton started to sing again. 

Ashton remembers fearing Christmas. It would be his first one without Luke in four years. 

(“I’ll be thinking about him,” he’d told his therapist anxiously, nibbling on his lip. 

“You’re allowed to,” she’d said.) 

Christmas, however, came and went. Ashton remembers forgetting Luke on Christmas Day, too caught up in the festivities and opening presents and eating lunch and playing with Harry and Lauren, only remembering that he’d been supposed to think about Luke when he was brushing his teeth and grinning maniacally at himself in the mirror. 

January in LA had been cold and wet and miserable, but Ashton doesn’t even care because he remembers. He remembers the biting wind stinging his cheeks, the way he had to dig his hands into his pockets because he forgot his gloves, the new scarf he had to buy to hide his nose in to protect it from the icy air. He remembers slipping on wet pavements, running from Target to his car in the pouring rain, feet squelching in leaking shoes. He remembers driving to Calum’s, and sleeping in Calum’s bed, and having to fall asleep without his phone in his hand. 

He doesn’t remember doing it, though, because he only remembers waking up the next morning, awake and refreshed and well-rested. 

He remembers how trivial things started to matter again. The emails piling up in his inbox, the way the door to his garage squeaked when it closed, the fact that only one charging port on his laptop worked. He remembers the important things starting to matter less, too - Luke’s laugh, Luke’s smile, Luke’s eyes. 

He starts listening to the music Luke had introduced him to again. At first, it reminds him of Luke, of muggy summer nights spent driving in Luke’s car singing at the top of their lungs, but he grits his teeth and pushes through it. He walks when he listens, exploring the neighbourhood, making new memories. Eventually, the music becomes Ashton’s, and Ashton’s alone. 

He’s listening to it now, leaning over a railing as he watches the sun set over the ocean. The sky is streaked with orange and pink, and Ashton thinks he’s never seen anything so beautifully meaningless. The cool evening breeze licks at his arms and makes him shiver a little as he squints, sun just at the right height to hit his eyes. He doesn’t mind, though, because he can feel it. 

There, standing in the warm glow of the sunset and watching the sinking light glitter on the surface of the water, he feels peace for the first time in nine months.

He smiles, and watches the sun sink until he can no longer feel its warmth on his skin. 

#lashton #5sos fic #5sos slash #5sos fanfiction #this is less of a fic and more of a thought piece really though