#that is somethng i want to draw more of
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I want to know more about the m9 artist au!! I remember reading a post or two about it a billion years ago (and would love to read them again) 💜
hi jess!!!! thank u for being interested hehe :")
so ever since i drew that lil thing of essek painting a frank stella inspired painting (or even before), ive been thinking of what kinds of art each of the m9 would do. essek ofc is inspired by a minimalist show that i went to here, all the big names from that movement were shown, but those really dark, sinkhole-like paintings are speaking to me. another artwork of boxes made of mirrors also seems like the thing he would do too
there's a kiln here that we visited which was huge, and surrounding it were artists' studios and some other ceramic sellers, i imagine the clay family having a place like this in the middle of nowhere amongst the trees, and caleb would do his work there
anyways because at heart im a shadowgast luver its centred around them,, they meet at an artist residency or something like that and its an incredibly slow burn that involves talking and not-talking and looking and not-looking. in the end i am but a simple wong kar wai fan so. that kinda vibes would definitely influence this, i would describe it as a quiet burning i guess?? time skipy and words that are not said
i think im gonna rant a bit more about their different mediums and styles so i'll keep it under the cut
i think caleb sculpts figures and portraits, but in a sad, kathe kollwitz charcoal vibe. maybe some funky looking animals, perhaps some pots and vases to look at the pretty glazes. he's interested in using fire to burn texture into different mediums, like ive seen it being used on shellac to make a really cool net of ink looking structure.. but yknow, just seeing the aftermath of glazed ceramic from the kiln is enough, and probably better for him to keep his distance anyways
the clay family produces most of the ceramic to sell, vases, pots, plates, cups, teapots, yknow just a whole array. and its really colourful too, depicting every family members different style. i think caduceus would do some matte glazes with a lot of different colours, theyre all a little wonky but theyre better off that way anyways. he does some really mean ink calligraphy and painting though
jester definitely does,, everything, whatever her heart desires kinda thang. she makes pastel textile installations and lighthearted cute paintings, but theyre always so contemplative and soothing. she gets m9 a lot of work cus her mom has connections, etc etc. i really love the idea of jester creating works that talk about the female body and femininity (definitely not projecting no)
beau is a printmaker and photographer who's really experimental, she loves cyanotypes and printing flowers (for yasha), idk she seems like she would put fabric and rocks into the washing machine to see what would happen. u would probably catch her in someone elses studio learning about what they do or in the library learning about what old people did
veth works in a museum as a curator, getting beau to help her sometimes with gathering artworks and artists etc. she probably organises community art projects for kids and public art installations. her house is full of m9's artworks and various other artists shes worked with.
yasha does bouquets as her post-retirement part time job, prior to that no one really knows what she did ("she probably murdered a bunch of people and is now hiding from the government"). fjord draws comics for fun but is also not a job for him, molly is a question mark for me. but these guys probably wont be in it as much anyways
im still not sure what format i wanna do this in, im actually having fun just writing it in my notebook now (digital does not facilitate the creative juices) but i do want to do some visuals like fake movie stills or storyboards. maybe they will work together well???? dunno. working on the other shadowgasty thing im doing made me realise how much easier it is to draw when there's a script already there, so im writing the script for myself
im definitely not as practiced in writing as i am in drawing, but idk im just gonna have some fun and see where that takes me, meanwhile try not to feel too bad that its fanart HAHA (very bad habit)
edit: i just saw my previous thoughts on beau being an art journalist, but i kinda like this better.. but maybe she can do both muah
#working tag for this ->#the kiln#honestly if u had any tips for writing#i'd love to hear..#i was insulted once on my writing and never wrote again HADHSFHF#oh and also emo smoking#that is somethng i want to draw more of
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I did the thing
#this took me a while trying to DECIDE#oc: iraestra#oc: balam#ot3: he is the tender butcher who showed me the price of flesh is love#and a few of these have weird explanations behind them but balam is horniest most violent sluttiest wants to see insides be their outsides#irae more wants to see their insides to study and put in a little jar on her shelf#but like gort views himself as acting for the good of the gate and the sword coast hence the slightly more selfless leaning here bc this is#about how they view themselves#though in that case irae would probably view herself as very selfless bc she is doing this for her family and revenge in their name#the most baseline explanation of this is that irae is a mykrulite under ketheric but thinks that he is becoming old and ineffectual#and losing himself in his grief and beginning to doubt that he can uphold his end of the dead three pact and there's plans to replace him#and orin finds out about it when she tadpoles balam and iraeis tadpoled as well or somethng. might change that storyline around a little bu#considering irae having a group of myrkulite cultists who answer specifically to her and pay lip service to ketheric or idk sometttthingg#throwing ideas at the wall and seeing what sticks#didn't feel assed trying to draw balam or gort so you get these#also yes that's a leapord gecko not a salamander but we'll ignore that#also unsure how i feel about gort age but i just threw something in there#half the time spent on this was just editing it for 3 people#lamia muses
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May i humbly request that you ramble on abt anything to do w jar/ihe plzplzplz? Hot takes, silly assumptions/headcanons, favorite vids, fanfics or fanart you wish you could make (or see someone else make), anything at all!!! Make it as long and annoying as you please even if you think no one will care bc I WILL care <3
I NEED to hear other ppls thoughts abt these boys or i will go crazy
posdacted ily but you have put me on the spot and now i fear Every single piece of ihe/jar media knowledge has left my brain……….
my favourite jarcast of maybe all time is the snugglebrothers cast they did recently… like wow.. if there was no james upskirt censor it would be the most Perfect video of all time Let me see up there. i loooooveee when the boys are all comfy and cosy looking it’s so heartwarming and cute Plus this moment was so cute
i think my favourite stand alone alex video is trying to watch star wars christmas special idk why but when alex sings porn helmet wookie time it changed something in my little 14 year old brain and at 21 years old i still sing that to myself skjdowjdi
i want jartists to draw the boys in Cute pyjamas and i think they should have a Pyjama cast where they’re all in cute matching pyjamas and it’s dark outside and they have candles going…… WAIT I JUST REMEMEBRWD SOMETHNG There was a james blab on the og jar channel called is james racist - james blab and in 2022 i was GOING THRU IT emotionally like crying all the time and that video was genuinely the only thing that would cheer me up but it’s deleted or got taken down idk it’s not up anymore and i’m so sad about it because it was so funny… alex’s editing on that was Cwazy in another life he would be making ytp.. all old jar is so nostalgic and especially like old fan videos… ;-; i love jar so much they’ve changed my vocabulary permanently. i also really enjoy “the WORST video on youtube” idk what it is about that specific video but it just Gets me
i don’t really have any hot takes i don’t think i guess i think james is Really Awesome and cool for his opinions on pornography and i admire him a lot for that especially when all the comments were kind of disagreeing with him but i thought it was Epic And Cool especially coming from three different men :p i disagree with his opinion on the film cars tho, that is one of my favourite movies and i had a (serious) cars fan blog on here at one point.
i want more stand alone videos about Vidya game because even if i haven’t played/don’t have a desire to play any of these games i loveeee to hear their opinions on them like yayyyy ❤️ i think i just love to hear their opinions on anything because it’s like a Trip into their brains and i enjoy that :3
i’ve seen liek 2 or 3 tweets recently like hating on alex/the i hate everything culture of the 2010s and Waow i did not think i was still so autistic about alex&jar i got so offended because YOU FONT KNOW HIM LIKE I DOOOOOO you’ll never know the first and only podcast on youtube you don’t know Smosh hates us?! they will never understand just how meaningful i hate everything and jar media was to me as a teenager like they got me thru so much and continue to get me through hard times JAR MEDIA IS FORVER <///333333 ok i’m emotional now and i think i’ve ran out of things to say so
tl;dr make more fanart of boy in Pyjamas and allow us to have james upskirt as a Treat
#posdacted#idk how long this post is but#i hope you enjoy#asks#i really did not tbink i had this much to say i wish i had more but my brain is EMPTY
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If I see one more video or post cross my dash where someone lists famous people who support Palestine or draws art of fictional characters holding up the flag I’m gonna throw something. Like this is NOT a fad, why should anyone give a rat’s tail about the standing of ~ celebrities ~ what do they expect me to do with that info, hm? I literally do not care. They ain’t special or something cool to praise. Westerners are so annoying with this culture. And drawing their anime boys just feels insulting. Can they not keep fandom and this matter separate?
ill be very frank anon to me it all boils down to sincerity. its been months since the news was brought to light and personally anythng to show people about palestine and permanent ceasefire n freedom for the country is still good to me. if we cant contribute money, we contribute somethng else (boycotting n spreading awareness are some of em)
nw of course sadly tht means we'll get some performative protests too but i tend to give the benefit of the doubt (or ignore them coz its not worth my time or anger). if it means making ppl aware n want to get educated then so be it. i just hope those who did it for clout opens their hearts n upon realizing how dire it is finally does it out of honesty.
tbh if anythng my mutuals post about fe rally gaza is a good way to show support!
by the end of the day these are real peopls lives at stake and in order to support, we can only do our best amongst those who only chose to be their worst
#besides i do not care abt celebs they are just some guys#all i do if i know theyre a zionist i choose to not support their work ever#same as boycotting food n places tht are doing the samr#so yeah#i focus on those who are genuine n sincere#saves my time and my mentality#ask#anon
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There was always something wonderful when it came to Dream. Weither it was just his goofy smile or the way he cared for anyone or anything. In the past year I've lived with Dream this sticky sweet feeling has grown into somethng that really felt right when it came to Dream. I smiled as i watched Dream start to cook dinner. This became a nightly thing, If i wasnt working on something or we weren't ordering take out I would sit and watch the strawberry blonde cook and we would make small talk. "So whats for dinner tonight?" I asked messing with one of my hoodie draw strings. He looked back at me and smiled. "Uh I felt lke a pasta mood so were doing that." He said looking back at the stove. "Oh ok" I said a warm tingly feeling spread all over. What was going on with my feelings? I mean sure our relashonship toes the line between a romantic and a platonic relashonship. I would also love to spend the rest of my days with Dream no matter what but…Did that mean I love him? I do care for Dream more than anything thing in the world. I smiled softly maybe I do love Dream. It wouldn"t be a surpries to be honest bt its still a shocking one. "Georgie?" I looked up to see Dream faceing me a small speckle of pink on his feckled cheeks. "Yeah?" He scratched the back of his neck "Uh..while the pasta finshes do you maybe…I dont know dance?" He asked offering out his hand I smile a familar warmth spreading on my cheeks. I got up and took his hand. His hands made their way onto my wait as mine latched onto his shoulders. We stayed like that swaying and looking into eachothers eyes. I felt safe and relaxedand….happy in his arms. I wanted more of this…I wanted just to be by his side forever no matter what. "George I love you" I heard him whisper his grip on my waist losening. My heart fluttered. "I-I love you too" I said. And unlike any of the other times I actually meant it. He smiled pecking me on the nose "you mean that?" He asked a dopey smile on his face witch made me smile even more. "Yes I mean that" I said kissing his cheek.
The end
I wrote this cause im in love i had to write something fluffy like this and i've wanted to see something like this in fanfics
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BRIEF 2- DISRUPT
(Workshop 3 and 4- Drawing with clay + Underglaze and layering)
I started these little sculptures during the drawing with clay workshop a few weeks ago. I didnt have much sense of where I was going at first, but as I was sculpting the cow an image came into my head. An image of a fortune cookie with a willow china design on it, and a golden fortune on the inside. I wanted to translate this idea to the cow, to make her a willow fortune cookie, featuring a golden fortune at her centre. Her fortune being somethng sad and gruesome, as that is her sealed fate as a cow.
Once I finished sculpting the cow I decided to make a few more animals, as I enjoy the sculpting process a lot. Each animal is hollow on the inside and split in half, where I shall be sticking in a fortune for each one.
(Pattern inspiration)
They are not finished yet as they need to be glazed and I need to add the fortunes, however I am very pleased with how the designs came out. It was a very tedious process but worth it in the end.
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Hello Lana! Could I get a matchup?
I have long dirty blonde/light brown hair, big dark blue/grey eyes, I'm about 5'4, maybe a bit taller (not more than 5'5 though) and I'm bisexual - so you can go wild ;)
I'd say I'm an introvert, but once I'm outside I become an extrovert - with the right people of course, I'm a people pleaser
I play piano, bass, ukulele and guitar (I'm learning bass, ukulele and guitar myself (self taught!!), so I'm not the best at it.. but I have been learning piano in a music school for 7 years now), I LOVE music - cannot do daily tasks without headphones (whish is slightly concerning)
I like drawing, I LOVE rain and storms, my humour is dark and sarcastic, I like autumn, I don't have a favourite color - maybe blue, yellow, red, or green; it honestly depends on the day, i do have a favourite flower! it's the cornflower - the dark blue one in minecraft :')..
I tend to overthink a lot, english is not my first language, so I have a weird accent and grammar mistakes are very common, Im European 💪
Thank you, ily! I have read over this so many times to make sure there are no mistakes (hope I haven't missed any - that would be embarassing)
Also could I be ⭐ anon? (I'm a star >:D)
hello love !! yes ofc, you can have a matchup ♡
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
i would match you with wilbur !!
again, i say this everytime (and i say "i say this everytime" everytime, does that make sense..?)
BUT LITERALLY WILBUR VIBES
like its written all over oh my lord-
wilbur is physically obsessed with your eyes
would just stare at them for hours
he loves how your eyes are dark colored but still so sweet looking
wilbur also loves your very gorg contrast of your hair and eyes
your eyes would also make that man do ANYTHING
need something from the store? he's out to tesco within minutes. want coffee from the local cafe? its on the kitchen counter.
speaking of eyes, it could just be me but i feel like will kinda has really small eyes?? idk might just be me
but it kinda gives off a siren eyes vs doe eyes vibe
im so sorry but he constantly calls you short (in the nicest boyfriend-est way possible)
pats your head when he needs your attention
considering hes about a foot taller than you its really funny when you guys are walking next to eachother
in sorry boys vlogs, if you ever made a star/guest appearance, he would only call you "small guy" even if your role had a name which eventually became a joke in the fandom
for him its a perfect height for him to reach down a tad bit with his l o n g and l a n k y arms to interlock hands with you
also a perfect kissing height for you guys
now for personality time :D !!
wilburs also the quiet kinda type
very much black cat vibes from him
he could stay silent and lay with you for hours and do nothing, as long as hes with you
i also think that wilbur deep down is a people pleaser as well
but if he catches you doing too much people pleasing, he'll stop and talk to you abt it
will be very quiet with you, but can also be very loud with you
"whatever you're feeling, darlin" typa dude
wilbur is also utterly obsessed with your music taste and just your shared trait of music obsession
will make playlists for you and will do listening parties
if you ever need help with any instruments he'll help you straight away !!
you guys having lil jam sesh's
aaaaaa my heart the brainrot is insane
wilbur loves drawing with you, even if he cant draw
you'll do portaits of him and he'll do portaits of you
he tries and attempts to draw either you or somethng that you love very much (for ex, the cornflowers from mc you love :D) and will leave it in your phone case or on ur monitor
you guys listening to rain together from the window and just talking
or sitting on the roof and watching the rain and thunder as it pours down on you
oh, and he also made ghost!bur after you (blue and yellow) after mentioning you enjoy those colors
wilbur LOVES YOUR ACCENT even as a silly british boy (coming from an american)
just like him looking at your eyes for hours, he'll also want to listen to your voice and you ranting for hours.
he finds so much love and comfort in it
yall being the cutest couple overall <3
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
so so so cute oh my god !!! the brainrot is brainrotting rn
sorry this request got written late, been real hectic recently
also yess i would love a new anon !! welcome ⭐ anon <3
thannk you for reading, i hope u enjoyed. please support me by liking, reblogging, following, replying or sending in an ask/request or just popping in to say hello!
love u all mwah xoxoxo
#mcyt fanfic writer#mcyt#fanfiction#dream smp#mcytblr#requests open#wilbur soot#matchup#mcyt matchup#love u 4ever#4eva
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For the The Excessively Detailed Headcanon Tumblr Meme asks Kai 1, 6, 7, 14, & 20
What does their bedroom look like?
Kai's bedroom is very minimalistic he's got a dresser and clothes, a desk, a nightstand and a bed. At least that's what it looks like to and outside.
Kai's desk is literally stuffed with drawings and other things from his family that he hoards, he also has a bunch of boxes under his bed with more stuff from everyone/birthday presents.
top of his dresser has literally so much crap he didnt want lloyd and jay to reach falling off it that the little scavengers get the stuff anyways.
6. Eating habits and samples daily menu
Kai literally puts hot sauce on everything, eggs? Hotsauce. Skittles? Oh yeah that definitly needs hot sauce
Daily menu sorta depends on whos cooking but ingrediants are usually bought either on sale or in bulk to save money since theres so many people
So things like eggs, peanut butter, noodles and rice
Ergo things that are made a lot are: eggs of all kinds, curry, fried rice, PB pancakes, noodles with PB sauce, pb sandwiches and thibsg like that
7. Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time:
When Kai actually does decide to waste time he either plays video games or tries learning different dances, his favorite is breakdancing!
however its pretty rare for Kai to waste time on himself, usually only if none of his other siblings are doing anything because he got so used to doing everything for Nya and him that its hard to just, not need to do somethng productive or helpful.
14. Physical abnormaties?
I think aside from the scar above his eye he also has several burns on his hands and arms from both his power and the forge, has chronic pain in his hands, back and some other places.
Also has lots of cut scars everywhere from ninja work and also has phantom pains from some of the worse ones.
Definitely on the short side due to malnourishmente.
permanant eyebags.
I think that aside from Lloyd, Kai has the most stretchmarks, going from slightly starving half to getting more then enough food at the monestary, Kai always did his best to spare Nya from going hungry so she was still sorta malnourished but not as bad.
Once they both got a more steady diets they shot up to full quite a bit and then kai stayed at that height and nya grew a little bit afterwards.
20. Childhood illnesses?
Again kai was pretty malnurished and because of that he got sick a lot in winter, mostly colds and maybe the flu once or twice, one time he got pneumonia though and it was pretty bad, of course nya and kai didnt know that it was pneumonia just that kai almost died
that was the reason nya learned how to work the force actually as before kai didn't want her touching it but with him being really out of it and them needing money and such... Well yeah.
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*speed walking around in circles arms behind back folded up all nice* The creatures need enrichment. the creatures need to draw.
Hierophant does so often with whatever it can get its hands on on whatever surface possible whenever the urge to do so comes along. It does so with a sense of urgency. I feel they’d be in a similar style to the Civilsation I + II (KKB albums) art if a bit stiffer and not as clean. They are... prophetic? In nature.
I think it’s the only one who would make a habit out of it/draw often but it’d be interesting to see others try too
Magician would struggle with his claws if he tried and Im thinking it would turn out messy. Simple but there would be an attempt to be elegant or at least presentable. But would press too hard or too light. Would color things in if it fit. Exact style hard to pin down, i think it’d look oddly fuzzy. Would also find angrily scribbling and straight up grinding pencils to dust therapeutic.
Hangedman would be ok with drawing I don’t think it would be a hobby but if he had to visualize something or express somethng without words maybe he��d draw it out. Also very messy and simplistic but it’s. Blockier? everything is more like big shapes, the simplest you can get to recognize shapes. Everything is angular and there’s a decent sense of form. Lines are very very thick. Would use bright colors or black yellow and red alone to color in. Something may be a little disturbing abt it
Star would draw simple figures, more like silhouettes. sketchy and would not use color much. He would try it for the sake of it.
Empress could scribble something down if prompted (or if she wanted to try it out tee hee). Also very basic forms. smudgy. EIther featureless blocks/blobs or just cutesy but very simple. The would maybe look like those stylistic drawings i posted of her and emperor as that was meant to be a look of them in her mind’s eye or whatever...
While we’re at it! The people too :)
Lisa and Daniel both tend to doodle when bored esp the latter as he ran out of stuff to do in the facility quickly. The former draws eyes over and over in note margins and flowers and her style is kind of anime ish. Like. Chibi toon whatever. Daniel’s is like a simple realism or a comic style with shapes blocked out.
Kate would say she can’t even draw a stick figure but!! She has great handwriting. Could and would probably take up caligraphy. Sophie also has rlly pretty handwriting
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i guess about ai art is that it is useful to me when i want to draw somethign but dont know what it would look like and cant imagine it or find an image that exists for what i want
also its good for when i can do that but it is too hard to do that becuase mentally tired
what i dont like about ai art is how many apps have it now and i didnt ask for that and i know its stealing or something bad when its from apps that are jsut adding an ai feature because its trendy and they dont care about it REALLY really.
with the more in depth generators like stable diffusion or something like that i like those ones more because they were made before it was a trend and are made by someone who actualy cares about ai stuff and wants to see it improve
i know that these ones people have said even these ones have ethics issues with the photos that the ai got ahold of but i feel that the creators of these ones might be more open to listening about ethics and rights of photos and art and stuff like that
its something that can be used good but its also somethng that can be used bad but i rally think that a lot of things made in ai should be private use or if you do post it you should say its from ai.. but i guess it reminds me kind of about deviantart bases people would use those and say it wasnt a base...
i havent used any of these things in a while though becuase i am waiting until more ifnromation exists about how bad photos or things without permission got into the ai and if they will make sure it wont happen again
because that stuff is more important i think than whther or not if something from ai is real art
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I think, given how covid played out in the initial days of infection, and even deep into it, when we STILL had people like "it's a hoax" and "you can't make me stay home/wear a mask/limit my right to shop!" etc
that every future pandemic or zombie or alien apocalypse fic... now needs to follow this particular trend, until it becomes an accepted trope
The first case(s) come to light.
The world splits into different factions
You have the people directly affected and their families, frightened and afraid for their lives/loved ones and not knowing what will happen. Because it is an unknown and there was no preparation.
You have the people who hunkered down like it was doomsday who had sort of the right idea? Maybe a little disappointed the enemy is microscopic and not somethng they can shoot.
You had the poor who knew that every step outside their homes was a threat to their lives and those of their families, but someone had to bring in money and food.
You had the middle-class who split between staying home to be safe and making random trips to the store for things, and those who refused to acknowledge any issues.
You had people from the last group who also decided to hoard as much food and items they could, knowing it could disadvantage everyone. They make "I can't believe they're making you work during a pandemic!" statements at the counter.
You have the rich, who hunker down in their mansions and cry on the internet about how hard things are. Their servants and stylists and bodyguards are sent out into the wild for things they want.
You have the wealthy brats, who think being able to travel to another country in pandemic/apocalypse is a bragging point and they try to get clout on social media.
You have the the leeches and the snake oil salesmen. They are the landlords who double rent and evict people to the streets when they cannot go to work, they are the people who charge desperate people for a 'cure' that is a sad lie. They are the vampires of hope and future happiness.
You have the false matyrs. The people who speak the words of the gods but line their pockets with the money of the desperate and faithful, who they claim they can save or heal or whatever it takes to build another mansion for this 'humble servant'. You have the followers, of different levels of the socioeconomic system, who all cling to them and pay their 'tithes' to seek favour with a god who apparently cares nothing for them unless they pay the subscription. They are prey to greed and cruelty.
You have the Deniers, who claim it is a hoax and cannot see how the 'sheeple' are so fooled. They proudly hold protests about wanting shops to open, claiming they are the oppressed here. They will likely die, or have blood on their hands.
You have little people in small streets and towns and suburbs all around the place who did pull together, they barter from home to home so no one has to go to the shops. You have the helpers, who put themselves on the line with every precaution possible, to try and help the vulnerable, the elderly, the home-bound.
You have the people in their fields who fight through every day to try and save as many as they can, cure who they can, and even just hold the hands of those who are passing so they do not leave alone. You have the medical professionals who are working hard, you have the scientists who are frantically searching for the how, the why, the what will fix it?
You have the cruel. Like the leeches and snake oil salesmen, but they have Power, they are the tools of martial law. The ones who think that the world going to hell is subtle permission to show greater brutality when there are not as many eyes on them. They are the arms of the Offices Above us all, and they are soulless.
You have the media, who report whatever truth they are allowed to by their channel's owners.
You have different countries who respond either with pro-protect the people, or using generic shows of appreciation for their health and general service workers who are hostages to the situation.
You have the aholes who think its fine to hoard vast amounts of sanitation/safety items and try to gouge people for the chance of not dying, what little money they do have. They are rarely disciplined for their crimes.
You have those trapped in places they cannot leave, knowing that one little contagion or careless action or mishandled item, and they all die. Like nursing homes or prisons or hospitals. You have those in poor mental health who are trapped without outside help, the disabled who need supplies but they're all gone, those in domestically abusive households who have no way to leave and the more stress the angrier They get.
You see the corporations leering down on the common folk like gods witholding a lifesaving boon until the appropriate amount of sacrifice is made to them. You want to spit in their faces for their greed, but you cannot risk upsetting them, or others may miss out.
And each stage is a rollercoaster.
It starts, things peak, some countries react and are proactive, others do not. Cases rise rapidly, spiking, and again and again.
Then things stabilise, but no, a spike again.
And again. And again. There is no time, in this void of worrying if the world will end. And then you hear of the selfish actions of someone who wanted to breach quarantine or who left the doors open 'for some air' and let the zombies in...
And you cannot imagine how they can do this. But there are so many.
And people die.
And then it calms, it plateaus. Not great, but holding and the world gets hopeful. The vaccine is here, maybe. A weapon to shoot down the alien ships, maybe. The sun is rotting the zombies now.
But it's not over.
Some countries go back to 'normal'. The new normal at least.
Acting as if things are not still at crisis for other countries, as if people have stopped dying because it is no longer here.
But everyone is changed. Everyone is wary. Even the loudest dissenters still shuffle into self-isolation if there is another lockdown, another siren to announce potential worry is here again...
There are so many characters and viewpoints in this ongoing pandemic/apocalyptic event, so many facets of humaity that have been seen, positive and disgusting. Cruel and kind.
AS of yet, we don't know how it will end, as it will not until all countries are vaccinated, until no cases have been seen for more than 6 months. Then, that is the time people will breathe a little easier, and not before.
When that will happen, who can say.
But for the genre, I think we have proven beyond doubt that there will always be a boomer or a karen arrogantly slamming their hand on a bell for service, even with a hoarde of zombies bearing down on them, while minimum wage workers crouch behind the counter and hold one another in fear, begging the gods that the zombies bypass them in favour of the loud one.
And as the boomer/karen hits the ground, yelling for police, they will see the workers and point at them. Drawing attention to them. Killing them as good as if they'd pointed a weapon themselves.
With rage in their eyes, the employees can do nothing but glare back at the foolish person who has brought doom to them. They are shackled to the counter and cannot escape, and this entitled bastard has killed them...
Perhaps a hamfisted allegory, but, seeing a maskless someone approach during quarantine periods and not being able to just fucking glen 20 them in the eyeballs would be terrifying. Or when a customer sticks their head around the plastic screen??? Or starts yelling about their right to not wear a mask or use sanitiser or....
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making music | a Jonerys AU | fic tease
a/n: Bêcha thought I forgot this one? LOL Nope, just working on it here and there. It will be longer than I thought of course. So here’s a tease to part 1 up soon!
Once again, turning the corner, she almost stepped straight into a busker only this time a trumpet player, and when she knelt down to pick up the coins that had fallen out of a flatcap set on the cobblestone, she heard a low chuckle, and a heavy Northern accent, her blood going cold.
"You just can't help yourself can you?"
"I'm sorry I..." She whipped up, glaring. She shouted. "YOU!"
Jon chuckled, leaning against the brick wall, a foot propped up behind him, his other stretched out, and a trumpet loose in his fingers. "Me." He rolled his eyes, but still smiled. "You want a piece of my gig here or what? That why you keep stepping into my payment?"
She glanced at the cap, noting there were only a few stags; he had way more as a guitar player. She smirked up and straightened. "Maybe you should stick to strings then Mr..."
"Snow," Jon said, lifting the trumpet up. He blew into it, fingers fast on the keys, the tune upbeat, jazzy. Someone walking by tossed in a dragon coin. He finished the snippet of a song she thought she might have recognized as a twist on a famous Essosi opera aria, and had gathered a few other admirers, including, she noted, some young women who giggled behind their hands and ducked their heads coquettishly, trying to catch his attention.
It was the music that held her attraction-- although he did look good standing there in his all black attire, hair pulled from his face, his strong forearms on display. She spied some tattoos peeking out from under the rolled cuffs and one on his inner wrist, a series of musical notes on a scale. She frowned, wishing she could see it closer, wondering what song held such importance to him he wanted it inked to his skin permanetly. Or maybe, was in his mind during a drunken moment and now was inked permanently. Could be anything.
He finished the song, the crowd gathered applauding. He swept the trumpet aside and bowed, moving towards the case while people dropped coins and other things into the flatcap. Several of the women dropped phone numbers. Dany remained standing, waiting for them to disperse and Jon to collect the money. "Do they not pay you enough?" she asked.
He chuckled, unfolding the bills and darting a glance upwards through his dark curls. "They do. This is for something else." He pocketed the money and shoved the cap into the side of the padded trumpet case. He quickly cleaned out the trumpet, wiping down the gleaming brass, dragging the cloth through the valves to dry it, and set it into the velvet lining.
Dany waited and caught his attention when he stood, slinging the case over his shoulder. "Are you first cello?" she asked, wanting more information. He was the only one she knew now from the sympthony, she wanted to get as much information as possible. Especially if they were to play together.
He nodded. "Aye."
"But you also play guitar and trumpet?"
"I play a lot of instruments."
"Yeah so does everyone," she scoffed. They all said that. Viola players claimed they could play violin and vice versa. Guitar players claimed they were also proficient in banjo and ukelele sometimes. Anything for the résumé. She rolled her eyes. "There's a difference in maybe playing something and being proficient in it."
Jon eyed her sideways, chuckling. "Alright, I'm proficient in a lot of instruments. And you?"
"Four."
"Let me guess."
She grinned. "Go ahead." He'd never guess.
Jon ticked off his fingers. "Violin."
"Duh."
"Guitar."
She wrinked her nose. "Yes."
They turned a corner; she had no idea where he was going, somehow she was stuck to him like a magnet, unable to tear away. He patted his pockets, searching for somethng, and removed a pack of cigarettes. He smiled sheepishly. "Bad habit."
"Terrible habit, especially for someone who plays a brass or woodwind instrument," she chided.
He lit the cigarette, pocketing the lighter with a flick of his fingers. She spied a wolf etched into the side of the silver Zippo. He paused at a corner, studying her a moment. She shifted, oddly uncomfortable with the x-ray-like gaze. His irises were gray, a peculiar color. They shimmered, reminding her of the ash on the cigarette or else storm clouds. He blew a stream of smoke out to the side, gesturing with the cigarette. "Piano."
She grit her teeth. Eyebrow quirked, she shrugged. "Alright. Yes."
"I've got three. How many more guesses do I get?"
"One more, I told you I play four."
Jon kept his gaze on her, once again giving her the x-ray once over. He narrowed his eyes and smiled wide. "Harp."
Her mouth dropped. What...how...WHAT!? "You cheated!" she exclaimed, at the same time he burst out laughing. He dodged the fist she flung out to smack at his shoulder, this perfect stranger, but she was positive he deserved it. First for chastising her when she completely accidentally stepped into him, then for his comments after her incredbile audition, and now well, for whatever was happening with this. She glared at him, simultaneously impressed he got them right and also annoyed.
Now he laughed. "How did I cheat? I didn't know you until like three hours ago."
"But you did," she realized. He knew her real name. Could have been a good guess, but she tried vrey hard to keep the lives separate. So how did he know?
They were still walking. She realized they were approaching a nondescript old building, stone and worn, with moss growing on the side from the healthy amount of humidity King's Landing endured. There was a large olive tree out front, providing shade over a fountain of a series of wolves chasing each other. They stopped near the entrance to the small courtyard, his fingers idly running down the strap of his trumpet case, his cigarette almost worn down to the filter.
He flicked off some ash, drew in a last pull of it, and stubbed it out, tossing it into a trash can. He smiled again, but it didn't meet his eyes. He tapped her case. "Violin, easy." He gestured to her fingers. "You have piano hands, calluses on your wrists, your black and white outfit, probably what, teacher too?" She scowled, refusing to acknowledge he was right. He carried on. "Guitar because that was actually just a guess."
"And harp? How'd you guess that?" she demanded.
Jon blinked, shrugging. "You're a Targaryen."
Her jaw set. "Yes," she ground out. She arched her brows, silver bouncing up to her hairline. "Which I would kindly request you keep to yourself."
"You should probably hide your eye color then."
"I could just be Lyseni or Valyrian otherwise."
"You have your mother's face," he said. He continued, her shoulders drawing back at that, surprised. He smiled again. "And Rhaegar Targaryen was one of my first music teachers. I know a Targaryen and I know he has a little sister and well, Targaryens are the only harp players that actually make it a worthy instrument to learn." He grinned wider. "I'll give you a hint. One of the instruments I do not know how to play is harp."
Rhaegar's student? Her mother? Harp? What? There were questions swirling around in her mind, before she could ask him to clarify. He walked by her and to the fountain, dropping some of the coins in it and then depositing his earnings into a box near the entrance to the building. He tipped his fingers to his temple, saluting her. "See you around Daenerys Targaryen. Or Dany Storm. Which do you want me to call you?"
"Dany," she whispered, unsure what to make of him.
He nodded, smiling. "Dany." He turned, walking off and reached into his pocket, removing a harmonica, lifting it to his lips and humming off on it as he wandered away, out of sight.
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so got an idea from this amazing art by @banana-banshee
✨a jutjutsu kaisen regular kids!au✨
-where curses dont exist and yuji stays in regular highschool and goes to his weekly supernatural club (the friends are okk!!!! they play mock-up curse games like d&d)
-grandpa lives 😌 and continues to raise and help yuji. he still has health probs but yuji chills w him in the hospital and reads/writes manga(he wants to be a writer one day🤗)
-gojo, utahime, nanami etc are all teachers, yoshinobu is the principle, shoko is the nurse, masamichi is the gym teacher😂
-gojo is blind, he dyes his hair white for the lulz, and is the students fav teacher / a jokester, his class is an gaurenteed A as long as you dont tell on him to the principle for all the nonconstructive class trips (strange little excursions throughout the hallways, games in the sports fields, scavenger hunts throughout the school etc)
-nanami went into teaching bc he wanted to help (altho if you asked him he'd just say he just wanted the job security🙄 but he left bc Reasons (hint: a certain fellow teacher may possibly have somethingeverything to do w it) and got a soulless corporate job but missed....the kids👀👀 so he took the pay cut and came back
-megumi and nobara are transfer students. megumi just wants to get away from his family (and the private academy he had been goin to) nobara keeps getting kicked out of schools for fighting/anger issues
-shes encouraged to join the baseball team and meets team captain maki (who has just as many if not more Issues™️ than her)(theyre besties now<3)
-megumi is Severly Depressed and antisocial™️ (his sister is in a coma and he meets a pink haired kid there in the hospital hallway one day whos visiting his grandpa) > pink hair kid™️ makes an Impression > megumi feels goodweird for the first time in Years > phk™️ mentions his public hs he goes to (megumi almost stumbled onto him bc he was zoning out while stirring coffee he had no intention of drinking and the phk™️ was laying haphazardly in the hallway reading some Weird Manga) > megumi decides hes had Enough w his private academy and their soulless elitism and decides to transfer to public school for phk™️ his /health/
-reality of the differences hit him hard tho (ppl actually Daring to talk to him bc the name Zenin™️ holds no meaning here)(him having to choose between responding or looking like a smug asshole)(not being able to use the family name to get out of the work(hes not lazy hes depressed™️)(not knowing how to deal w everyone being interested in him but not bc of his family???? they actually??want to get to know???[him]?)(constantly not knowing if the friendly smiles are real or not)(it gets to be Too Much)(and he almost drops out but a goofy (and vaguely familiar) teacher (where has he seen that white hair before?) manages to convince him to keep trying and invites him to join the club he leads (its an supernatural club)(phk™️ is there)(his prestigious family™️ would never approve of him bein friends w someone w pink hair)(pink hair is Not Classy)(supernatural fiction is childrens fantasy)(he should be in chess or fencing club or some shit)(but this is his choice)(he grins as he walks out of his first meeting)
-todo and choso are upperclassmen + bros w yuji😌 todo tells him abt the baseball team (its co-ed) and he befriends nobara and maki
-megumi would rather sulk in the stands than join a sport™️ but he takes up art and Draws His Feelings (Randomly And Completely Unsupported By Any Evidence Whatsoever his drawings start to turn into panels of a manga👀)
-miwa and momo are galpals (girlfriends,,,,,,theyre girlfriends) and also cheerleaders until nobara shows up and tells them they could use more girls on the ball team
-naoya is the school bully
-innumaki is mostly nonverbal (yuji pulls him into The Friend Group and they all learn to translate the few words he does say)(no one had ever bothered to Try before)(girl kelp😭)
-sukuna is the name yuji gives the voice of his intrusive thoughts; hes getting better at ignoring him(((sometimes)))
-panda is human! its just a nickname bc he wears a panda costume as the school mascot (he wears it around school even when theres not a game tht day🐼)
-kokichi is disabled, uses a wheelchair, is the the club w the others, is a gamer™️ (his username is mechamaru)
-junpei (junpeiiiii😢😭) is bullied alot but one time yuji and megumi See It and Stop It and now theyre all friends uwuwuwuu😭😩😭
-mahito is a creep who crepps around the school with his followers tryin to manipulate and trick students into like his cult or w/e idk i havent figured it out yet (once nanami finds out tho....)
-hanami is one of those extreme environment advocate preachers lol
ahhhhh😅just the basics for somethng i might get to at some point and expand on these bc i rly love regularppl!aus so yeah😬
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can i get a hq matchup? preferably with a guy? i’m an INFP, and i’m a slytherin. I have ADHD, Depression, and Anxiety. I’m quiet around strangers, but once i’m next to people i know, i’m really loud. i’m stubborn, witty, loyal, passionate, persistent, protective, and i tend to speak before i think. i have trust issues, but i tend to jump into battles for anyone i like. I like to draw, sing, write, and play games. I self deprecate a lot and i have a dark sense of humour. I like horror movies and
i have a fascination with crime(mainly serial killers). I’m very self-conscious, but when i’m excited, i tend to throw that away until i calm down. I have Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, which means that whenever i get a negative reaction to something i become very distressed. I’m not a very active person, but if it’s an activity i like, i’ll try to do it often. i tend to procrastinate a lot. I’m very much a perfectionist, and i’ll push myself until i break down. I like to put my friends before myself, taking all of their problems and trying to solve them. I don’t hesitate to fight for my friends either. I also tend to tease said friends, sometimes going overboard. i’m very much emotionally controlled, it doesn’t take much to get me upset/angry. When i do get upset i start to physically shake, and i tend to cry. I like quiet, and i’m terrified of crowds, vomit, and being alone. I’m very much touch-starved, but i’m awkward with affection and don’t know how to show it. thank you so much
match ups are closed! check match up statuses on my pinned post because they’ll change! (in the mean time, my 500 event is open for self ships in Haikyuu!)
HIII THANK YOU FOR WAITING FOR SO LONG
so let’s just get to it, thank you for requesting btw!
I think I have to ship you with Noya :3c
Why I think you work well together!
Okay, for one thing, I think Noya is someone who may not fully understand things, but he will do his best to support you in any way he can. I’m also INFP/ENFP and like I can see myself with Noya and mayhaps I’m projecting a bit so I can see you with Noya LOL. I think Noya is also someone who’s rather patient? Kinda? Like to get to know you and to get you to trust him. He’s jsut a very open baby and wants to get to know you and because of that he’ll wait till whenever you’re comfortable. ALSO NOYA I FEEL LIKE IS TOUCHY. So he might give you hugs or jump on you or wahtever because !!!! he hyper baby. I like the idea of the two of you both hating doing work but you guys both somehow motivate each other to do so. And if you ever need a hypeman for like being more active he’s your guy! He’ll also make sure you’re taking care of yourself too because he knows how much it’s actually detrimental when it comes to trying to push yourself. Noya’s also easy to tease and he’ll take it. If he notices that you’re offput by anything, he’ll try his best to help you out. Even if he’s not the best at reading people’s emotions.
How you get together!
I like to think you guys have been classmates for however long
somehow being put in the same class every year
and thorugh all the different schools you guys would go to after graduating from primary to middle to high
so you guys know each other KINDA
i don’t think you guys really get to know each other till high school?
because this time around you guys are sitting next to each other!
and you’re both strugglign to get started on the work
lucky for noya you’re a perfectionist, despite being a procrastinator (honestly big same lol)
so being big brain
you guys do work together
homework and otherwise
you vaguely knew him, he’s loud, wants a girlfriend, friend’s with tanaka and supposedly a really good libero with tanaka
you guys become pretty good study buddies
but on one of the nights
you fund that you’re kinda bored
and you both actually got ahead in work
so y’all ended up watching movies
then played some video games
and so a sorta tradition came by where once a week you and noya would just chill
no work
no volleyball
just hang out!
tanaka got jealous lol cus noya got to hang out one-on-one with YOU! tanka thought they were date nights
but i like to think this got y’all to develop feelings eventually
friends to lovers yknow but it was hard cus
you didn’t really let him in but he didn’t mind, even if you did like him
he’d wait
and he liked being friends with you because as long as you were happy its fine
plus you saw how he was with kiyoko lmao
but maybe there was one night
a night where you guys weren’t doing anything
for once the night was calm and maybe you did open up that night
but either way noya says somethng to you that kinda just sticks
“however long it takes, i’ll support you no matter what! even if we’re on separate sides of the world”
#ameris ships people#kaaidalupita#lol IM SORRY SOMETIMES#IM JUST BAD AT TRYING TO MAKE MEANINGFUL WORDS#but sometimes its in the simple words that make it meaningful?#im just making excuses lol#hope u like it!
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I know that you do more child!Stiles with adult!Peter and make it really creepy, but I was wondering if you could do a murder husbands fic with adult Stiles and have them both be a little less disturbed? I really like your writing, even if it’s a bit too dark for me! (Most murder husband fics are post fire, so it would be cool to see one where the fire never happened)(I also really like magic Stiles) Sorry for this being so long!
I'm happy to know you enjoy my writing even if its not completely your cup of tea. Sorry if this took a long time, I had some problems with my wifi and myself.
Honestly, this is the best first request, I loved it and I hope you like it!
Here you can find it in Ao3. Thanks to @drminty for beta it <3
...
After dinner, Peter volunteered to do the routine patrol, saying that, since he was going to retake his duties as Left Hand, he would have to do it again. Talia smiled at him and he rolled his eyes without venom.
He wouldn't say it at loud, but he missed his family.
While he was walking for the reserve, he couldn't help thinking about Cora's friend.
He could remember the sheriff's son, a cute little thing, always full of energy and with somethng to say. He never talked to him, but he had one memory about the kid that he couldn't forget.
A very curious memory.
His niece always talked about him in their Skype calls and the things she said were flattering, and for her to esteem someone so much, his sister finding him charming, the pack to love him, and even Derek liking his presence, he had to be interesting enough.
He could admit to himself he was disappointed when Cora said he was busy and wouldn't go that night.
Still thinking about it, he heard something not very far from him.
Loud and wet.
He started to walk to the source, and with every step he gave, the noise became a little clearer.
There was a voice.
Five steps more and he smelled something he didn't want to smell again.
Wolfbane.
Mountain ash.
Hunters.
Peter immediately ran, faster than he had ever done, his senses focused on getting at the place from where the noises came. His mind wouldn't think on anything else.
And clearly it couldn't, since he didn't notice what the voice was saying until he got there and was taken aback by what he saw: bodies on the ground, no pulse, the smell of wolfbane and mountain ash betrayed their nature, their corpses were gored and mangled.
But that wasn't what had his attention. No.
The thing that had his attention was the attractive young man who was hitting the bodies with a feral violence. And a bat. Discharging his rage even though it was obvious life abandoned them a long time ago.
His scent was familiar, a mixed of ozone, petrichor, honey and fire, and he was surprised at finding himself not hating the last one.
“You had to come fucking today”
Hit.
“Why today?”
Hit.
“I'm so close to finishing my project and you come today!”
Hit.
“Do you know how many days I've been without sleeping for that shit? A lot”
Hit harder and the hunters' faces couldn't be called that anymore.
Peter thought on Cora, what she said about her friend not liking being interrupted when he was doing something important and having a rather bad temper when that happened.
He knew who was the person in front of him.
He gave another step and the violent boy stopped and turned to him, and when the amber irises were over him, Peter was breathless.
Wild, deep, calculating. So much crude and dangerous power.
He was assessed by the beautiful crature, who relaxed after doing it. The pretty pale face lost its sharpness and Peter didn't stop himself from contemplating the stars that decorated it.
“You must be Peter” he said.
Peter couldn't control the wolfish grin that formed on his face.
“And you must be Stiles”
The boy just gave him a mischievous smile.
--
Peter wakes up, he lets out a yawn and rubs his eyes with his right hand. He looks at his chest and can't help the smile he makes for the scene he sees.
His lover sleeping peacefully, his close eyes fluttering and little snores slipping from his mouth.
Peter knows he's smiling like an idiot and he doesn't care.
He lows his head and leaves a kiss on Stiles' hair, then stays there for a moment, just enjoying the sweet scent of his mate.
Ozone. Petrichor. Honey. Fire.
The moment was interrupted by a loud sound at his left, he turns and sees his boy's phone alarm ring. He tries to turn it off without moving too much so he can continue sleeping with Stiles, but before he gets at the phone, he feels movement on his chest.
He looks down to meet two captivating eyes, looking at him with so much love he finds it hard to breathe.
That beautiful wildness it's still there.
“Good morning” Stiles says, still sounding sleepy and with a soft smile on his lips.
He touches his face with his left hand, Peter takes his wrist and passes his fingers over the bite mark placed there.
“You don't need to go” he says.
“I do need to go” the youngest man replies.
Peter frowns slightly, which makes him receive a short kiss on his jaw.
“After school I'm all yours, I promise”
“You're mine” Peter can't stop himself from saying.
Stiles just laughs before giving him another kiss.
“Yeah, I am. You're grumpy today”
After that, his boy gets out of bed, letting him see his lithe body that it's covered with one of Peter's henleys. Stiles leaves the room, surely going to the kitchen and make some coffee.
He takes a minute before getting out of bed too. He goes to the bathroom to do his necessities and brush his teeth, then goes to the closet, he takes a shirt, jeans, and starts getting dressed.
He goes to the kitchen and finds Stiles drinking his coffee, he looks at the table and smiles when he sees another mug, he takes it and takes a sip.
Just like he likes it.
Peter continues looking at Stiles while the young one finished his coffee, the young man lets out a satisfied sigh when he's done and leaves the mug behind him, he walks forward to Peter to give him a last kiss before going back to their room.
When he's gone, Peter starts making breakfast, hearing his lover get ready.
Just when the food is ready he hears Stiles coming to the kitchen, he turns and finds him using another one of his henleys and black jeans, his backpack in hand. He sits on the table, Peter takes the plates and sits too.
They eat in silence, touching their feet under the table from time to time.
Peter takes the plates again and puts them on the sink for later, he walks at the door and takes his keys.
“You know, I could go by myself” Stiles says behind him, like he always does.
He nods. “You could” he says, like he always does.
The boy rolls his eyes fondly and then gets out of their house, being followed by Peter.
They get into the car, Stiles lays down on the passenger seat, still a little tired, and they start to drive to the young man's college. During the way, they take hands while Stiles hums softly.
After fifteen minutes they get to their destination.
Stiles straightens and leans to give him a kiss, he puts his hand on Stiles' nape and deepens the kiss, letting their tongues and purring at the low moans he hears. He nips his lower lip before Stiles draws away.
“I'm all yours”
Then he gets out of the car.
Peter waits a minute before driving home.
--
Stiles was in bed, with his pajamas and special pillow, ready to go to sleep.
He was ready to go to sleep when he felt something.
He didn't know what, it was weird and it had never happened to him. It hurt, but not like his mom's words, the burning scratches of her nails, the tact of her hand against his skin, or the suffocating feeling of her hands around his neck while being drowned.
A ghost pain. Sharp. Constant.
Feeling confused, Stiles got out of bed and started to walk downstairs. In the living room, he took the phone and dialled the number of the fire station.
“The Hale House is on fire”
He hung up, went to his room and got in bed again.
He didn't close his eyes.
Five minutes later, he heard his dad being called, getting dressed in his work clothing and closing the door.
Then Stiles slept.
The next day, his dad wasn't home yet when he woke up. It was sunday, so he took his time to make breakfast for himself and a lunch box for his dad. He didn't want to get dressed so he stayed with his pajamas and set his way at the sheriff station.
While he was walking he could hear people gossiping between them, in that tone of voice that pretended to be a whisper but wanted to be heard by others.
Hales and fire were the most used words.
Stiles continued walking until he was in front of his dad's work and then in front of Tara's desk. She leaned on the desk to see him and smiled.
“Hi, Stiles! Did you come to bring your dad his lunch?” the kind woman asked, not pointing out at the fact that he was in pajamas.
“Yes”
“He's a little busy, you can sit there and wait for a moment”
Stiles noded and sat on one of the closest chairs.
Being there, he noticed people next to him: a girl about his age who was moving nervously, a teenage boy with a blank face, and a young woman who couldn't stop biting her lip.
Cora, Derek and Laura Hale.
He looked at the floor, trying to not put his gaze over them, feeling a weird sensation with their presence.
A couple of minutes passed until the door of his dad's office was opened and he looked up, seeing his dad coming out of there and being followed by two people. He recognized the tall dark-haired woman and the handsome blue eyed man as Talia and Peter Hale.
Stiles waited until they thanked his dad and started to walk away from him, then he stood up and walked at his dad.
He felt a look over him but ignored it.
He was beside his dad and saw the Hales go, after that, he turned to his dad.
“Your lunch”
“Thanks, kiddo” he said, tired, like he had been sounding for some time.
Stiles noded, said goodbye to Tara, and went home.
He passed the next two weeks watching the Hales, learning their routine, sometimes going close to their house. He knew he could get in trouble but his curiosity didn't let him stop, he needed to know what happened.
Flashing eyes, fangs and howls was what he got.
A monday he sat with Cora Hale during recess, she looked at him, clearly wondering what wanted a kid one year younger to do with her.
“I'm the one who told the firefighters to go to your house, I know you and your family are werewolves, I think I'm something too. Help me” he said.
Her eyes widened.
“You're not lying”
“I'm not”
She looked at him, let her eyes flash for a second.
“Sure”
--
“Are you ever gonna tell my mom what you are?” Cora asked.
They were in his house.
“Maybe. I think. One day. I don't know” Stiles said.
She sighed, already knowing that was gonna be his answer. She sat properly on his bed and looked at him, that look that said she wasn't happy with him but still couldn't be angry because she loved him.
“You know, I can continue bringing books from the library all that you want, but it would be easier to train your shiny powers-”
“Spark”
“-if you had someone to help you” she said.
“You help me”
“Someone who is not thirteen”
He sat properly too.
“I'm good with you” he shruged. “I've always been a self-taught person”
“I know that” she said with a hard tone.
Stiles grimaced, he didn't want to touch that topic right now.
“And I'm going well with just the books. I already learned how to hide and change my heartbeat, hide my steps, my scent, muted noises, burn stuff, paralyze things and break bones, and in only two years. I would call that good progress”
Cora looked at him a little longer before she sighed.
“Okay, yeah, you're doing fine on your own. I still think you should tell mom about it”
He shruged again.
“I'll do it, just not really soon”
His friend gave up at the end, knowing she wouldn't win this battle, and three hours later she went back home.
At the door and saying goodbye to her, he remembered they needed groceries, so he took some money and got out.
In the way at the store he made a mental list of what he had to buy since he forgot to make one, he didn't need to buy a lot since it was only him and his dad, but he needed to know if he had enough money.
After half an hour in the store, Stiles came out of the establishment, happy he got everything he wanted and still had extra money.
He was going to go straight home when he felt something.
A ghost pain.
Similar to the one he felt when the Hale House was in fire.
He started to walk to a hardware store, even though he didn't know why and he had never gone to that place before. Inside there, he walked, passing next to ropes, wires and batteries, until he got to a hallway with tasers.
There was a woman.
Blonde. Tall. He would probably find her pretty if she didn't make him want to open her chest, take her heart and step on it until it was just a bloody mass of skin and nerves.
She turned to him, then smiled.
“Well, hello” she said, an amused voice that just made Stiles want to cut her tongue.
“Hello” he said, trying to hide the dicomfort he was feeling.
“Are you lost?”
He shaked his head.
“Oh, then you want one of these?” she pointed at the tasers.
Stiles noded. He walked to her.
“They seem fun”
The woman laughed. And he just wanted to rip her throat.
“That's something curious for a boy like you to say. I think I like you”
He wanted to gouge out her eyes.
“I like you too, what's your name?”
She looked him up and down, she didn't speak for one full minute.
“Catherine”
Lie.
“K or C?”
“With C”
“It's cute”
“And yours?”
“Michael”
They stayed in silence for a while.
“I should go, my parents only gave me five minutes”
He started to walk away from her, but her voice stopped him.
“Weren't you going to buy one?”
He looked back at her, then smiled.
“My dad said I could see them and tomorrow he would buy it. I think I want one like yours”
And he got out of there.
Stiles went home, put the groceries on the fridge and the pantries, then took his phone and texted Cora.
Ask your mom if she knows a female hunter whose name has a K
He waited two minutes before he got a reply.
Cora: She started to shake, asked me why I wanted to know and then said Kate Argent
Cora: Stiles what happened?
He let out a curse.
What did Derek say was his last girlfriends name?
This one only took a minute.
Cora: Catherine
He let out another curse.
I have to go
He didn't wait for a reply. He hid his scent and steps, then he got out of his house and walked to the reserve.
It was a bad idea. He should have told Talia about it. It was a really bad idea.
Once he was a long way into the reserve, he started to walk more carefully, not wanting to step on something by accident. Stiles wandered for some minutes not knowing where to go, but then felt that pain again and his feet moved by themselves.
He quickly found Kate, who was being followed by four men, clearly hunter by the guns and various weapons they had on them.
Stiles wanted to hurt them, torture them, extend their death as much as he could.
But then he thought better about it.
He wasn't well trained yet, he didnt know how to fight, and the Hales were close and he still didn't want Talia to know about him.
So even if he wanted to take his time, he actually didn't have that option. Instead he chose the easier thing.
Fire.
Without a second thought, with all the power he had in him, he paralyzed the five hunters and, before they could begin to scream, muted them.
He walked to them and stood up in front of the only woman. He saw how her eyes widened in shock.
“I lied to you, Kate, I don't like tasers, I prefer other things”
In a second, the four hunters behind her were covered by high flames. The fire was so strong, that all that was left once the fire disappeared after a minute was dust.
Even Stiles was surprised.
“I didn't expect that”
Stiles shaked his head, sat on the ground, and then turned his attention again to the woman.
She was looking at him with hate.
“You hurt Derek, and I'm sure you were the mastermind behing the fire two years ago, so I'm gonna try to make it slower for you”
The hunter wanted to say something, even if she wasn't going to be heard, but she couldn't open her mouth before she was surrounded my fire.
Stiles managed to make it slow. He could see the way her hair burnt, how her skin turned red to be bleeding raw flesh and then bone, he saw her pretty face become an abstract painting of hate, disgust and pain.
When everything was done, he got off the ground and started to walk home.
He had to tell Cora what happened.
--
Stiles dodges the hunter before swinging his bat and cracking it against his head, looking at the way his neck breaks and how the bat and ground get covered in blood.
He hears the click of a gun and then a growl, he turns to see Peter ripping out a hunter's throat, his claws dripping crimson liquid and the body falling down. Before he can say something, his wolf turns to another hunter who is distracted and mercilessly jumps over him.
He's really mad because their dinner was interrupted.
He can't continue thinking about it when he sees from the corner of his eyes a hunter.
The man suddenly paralyzes and Stiles hits him on his ribs, making him fall. He starts to hit him repeatedly on his chest, stomach, legs and face, hearing how the bones break and the head loses its form. A puddle of blood and another fluids painting the ground.
He's a little mad too.
Stiles turns to the body with the broken neck and starts to hit it in a similar way, focusing more on his head than the other, hitting until no one could tell who this person was before.
He remembers this one shot Peter.
When he's done, he turns to his lover. He looks for a moment at the bodies close to him, seeing their open throats and chests, one of them without eyes and the other doesn't have skin in good parts of its face. His attention goes to his wolf, who was breathing heavily.
He walks to Peter, takes his hands and rest his head on his shoulder.
“You're indeed grumpy today” he says.
The wolf doesn't respond and stays still, Stiles can feel him taking breaths of his scent.
“I can't forget the first time I felt you. I was surprised by the little kid who smelles like ozone, petrichor, honey and fire”
Stiles takes his face, smiling when Peter leans on the tact.
He gets close and kisses him.
The kiss is needier than the one of this morning. He feels Peter putting one hand around his waist and one behind his neck, Stiles feels him graze his tongue between his lips and then chase his tongue. He moans when Peter draws away to bite his lips and then seeks for his tongue again.
Stiles can feel his mind going hazy as Peter sticks his hand under his shirt, passing his finger for his spine and then resting on his ass.
With all the self-control he has, Stiles moves his hands to Peter's chest and puts some space. He sees the sulky look on Peter.
“Though I'm not against continuing this later, I still want to know why you're so angry”
“I can tell you later”
“I want to know now”
His wolf makes a face before moving away. He watches him look for something in his pocket.
“I wanted to do this in another moment, but I guess I don't have an option”
He looks at Peter confused when the wolf raises his hand between them.
There's a ring in his hand.
Stiles stays quiet.
Seeing his lack of reaction, Peter puts the ring on his finger.
A ring. On his finger.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god”
Peter doesn't talk yet.
“This is- you are- that's why- now-” Stiles can't find the words.
The oldest looks at him with an amused smile while he continues babbling for another five minutes until he finally talks.
“Mieczysław”
Stiles shuts up.
“Do you want to marry me?” Peter asks.
He feels the tears falling from his eyes.
“Yes” he whispers. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! I will!”
Peter smiles brightly at him, so pleased and happy than Stiles can't think on anything more beautiful.
He gives a step forward and takes Peter's lips with his.
The tears are probably mixing with the blood on their faces, they will have to get rid of the corpses soon, and maybe his dad won't be very happy with this.
But he doesn't care, they can take care of that later.
Right now, it's just them and the ring on his finger.
#stiles stilinski#peter hale#steter#request#I'm so happy I finished it#fanfiction#fanfic#murder husbands#my writing
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(i’ve never written from Hilda’s perspective, but i like how this one turned out. mentions of self harm at the end)
Hilda walked slow when she heard the clatter, then the dull thump on the carpet and the gasping sigh of her sister in the sitting room. Her head buzzed, stomach dropped, and as she took a deep, calming breath the hallway seemed to spin slow, the fun house spiralling whirlwind of fear that liked to grip Hilda at the most inconvenient moments. Shoulders tensed, body gripped tight, she couldn’t fathom what she’d find behind the door. Slowly, Hilda pushed it open. The room was lit in a soft yellow glow, fire crackling in the hearth and candles lit along the mantle, in between family photos and the odd herb and spell scrawled on post its Hilda left lying around.
Zelda had always disdained her disorganized way of mapping the things that lingered in her head, the scraps of spells she scribbled down before it left her, new potions to try when she’d finished cooking Sabrina dinner. Zelda told her it was why she rarely finished a single thing she started, why she hadn’t kept her job at the Academy all those years ago, too scatterbrained, undisciplined, lazy. The funny part, albeit exhausting, was that Zelda said it after collecting all the scraps at the end of the day and handing them to Hilda before heading to bed, some passing comment heavy on her tongue about how curious her notes were, how if she put them together they might actually amount to something. Hilda had learned to appreciate the small things, living with Zelda again, the compliments that Zelda hid behind her cruelty, the small gestures of love. Zelda had stopped doing that lately, collecting the notes for her, had stopped smiling at her after dinner when Sabrina dragged herself to her room after an exhausting day at the Academy and Ambrose had cleared the table. She’d stopped giving Salem milk, secretly, when she thought no one was up yet. She’d abandoned the care of the cemetery, had let weeds grow around Edward’s grave, and Hilda didn’t know how to process that. So when she opened the door to the sitting room late that night, hearing the thunk, the gasp, and Zelda’s stumbling steps, she feared, just a bit, what she would find.
Zelda stood there in stockings and the dress she’d worn to the Academy that day. Her hair was mussed, flyaways sticking up, tangled at the ends, and glowing amber with flecks of bright red from the fire that haloed her at the back of the room. A lamp had fallen at her feet from the end table, shade crushed and body cracked, but the light still spilled from the top against Zelda’s knees. She was holding a bottle of gin by the neck, and at the sound of the door creaking open she looked up and dropped it. It thunked on the carpet, too empty for anything to spill from it, and Zelda’s mascara had run and long dried on her flushed cheeks. “Hill-duh, what’re you doing up?” Zelda asked, words slow and concentrated from her lips which looked swollen and numb from the gin.
Hilda’s mouth fell open just a bit, brow furrowed as she stepped in, clad in a floral nightgown, feet bare, and eyes tired. “Zelds,” Hilda breathed, reaching out as if to touch her sister, but she felt too much like a mirage. “It’s a Tuesday night.”
Zelda didn’t respond with words, just sighed through her nose and swayed with what Hilda assumed was supposed to be a shake of her head but was in fact just a quick tilt and drawing of her chin to her shoulder. Then she looked up and tried to stand dignified which was difficult when her pupils were darting side to side, trying to get the room to stop spinning. “You’er always such a prude, sister,” she drawled, staring down at her over her nose.
“And you’re pissed,” Hilda scoffed, looking her over, holding her place in the doorway. “I think it’s time to go to bed.”
Zelda raised her brow, “Surprised you don’t wanna talk,” she curled her lip, puffy and parted.
“Oh, we’ll be doing a lot of that in the morning, I can assure you,” Hilda answered as Zelda, ignoring her, stumbled back to look at the lamp she’d toppled and broken.
“I’ll clean this,” she mumbled, pointing at it, narrowing her eyes. Then she opened her hand, and Hilda’s eyes widened.
“No, nope, I can take care of this. No harm done,” she assured, containing her panic, tensing her body as Zelda focused her energy on the lamp. Zelda had a long and shaky history of using magic when she was drunk or angry or sad or scared, and Hilda had thought, perhaps foolishly, that she’d learned to contain it by now. But then she raised her hand, and the lamp followed, rocketing forward and crashing against the wall behind it, the ceramic bursting into a hundred shards on the floor, the bulb exploding with a spark and a pop, and then the deafening ring in Hilda’s ears in the aftermath. Zelda swayed back on her heels, arm out forward, and blinked.
Zelda laughed then, slow, breathless heaves of her chest, a grin lazy on her lips. Hilda sighed, having had enough, and walked forward to grab Zelda’s arm, digging into the fair skin of her arm. Zelda stumbled over her ankles, nearly fell into Hilda stepping over the bottle she’d dropped. “To bed,” Hilda commanded, dragging her forward and slowly up the stairs. “Sleep it off,” she mumbled to Zelda’s slow, unfocused gaze and wavering steps.
Once in Zelda’s room, Hilda unzipped her dress for her, let it fall to the floor in a heap as Zelda brushed her hair from her face. “‘M not uh child, Hildegard,” Zelda slurred in a breathy stumble back from the dress. The gin rolled off her heavy as their father’s cologne, and Hilda frowned as Zelda swatted her away, holding her arms close to her chest, flushed and blotted, shoulders hunched.
Their father had drank sometimes, after their mother left, whole bottles of aged whiskey he kept on the top shelves in his office. Bitter and sad, he’d curled his lip at her and Zelda as they stood in his doorway, just watching him throw back the glasses with a gasp and a wince. Zelda drank like their father. She’d learned it from him, stealing liquor and telling Hilda not to be such a baby about it, a few years shy of her baptism, Zelda suffered under the mortuary roof with him.
“Well you’re sure acting like one,” Hilda shot back, grabbing her stockings and pulling them down to her knees, “sit down,” she told her, and Zelda flopped down on the bed, petulant and suspicious. As she rolled the stocking down over her heels, draping them over a chair, Hilda glanced at her, quiet and tired. “I haven’t seen you this drunk since Rome, when was that? The eighties?”
“Lifetime ago,” Zelda mumbled, seeming to sober for a flicker, the hardness returning to her eyes, the tight furrow of her brow, staring right through Hilda. She picked out some pajamas for Zelda then, light things, easy to put on, none of her silky nightgowns and frivolous little straps she liked to wear. A tee shirt, buried deep in her drawer, surfaced, and Hilda chuckled at it, shaking her head. It was one of Edward’s from a festival he’d been to so many years ago, Woodstock. Talked about it for weeks afterward, completely insufferable, and Zelda had nearly killed him for it, complaining about his love of mortals and the trouble he liked to stir up in the coven because of it. Even then he’d been a hippie. It wasn’t until Edward’s wedding they found out it was where he met Diana. Zelda must have dug the shirt from his things after he died.
“Arms up,” she told Zelda, not letting her see the front, and Zelda complied, swaying, as Hilda shoved it over her head, pulling it down over her chest. She drowned in it, and Hilda hadn’t seen her quite so soft in longer than she wanted to think about. She’d forgotten what Zelda looked like when she didn’t have all those walls up. And Satan forbid Sabrina see her like this. Zelda would never hear the end of it, and then Hilda would end up in the Cain pit for letting their niece get anywhere near her so drunk. “Zelds,” Hilda asked gingerly, and her sister looked up at her, eyes glazed over. Hilda wondered if she’d remember this in the morning. “You’re not acting yourself. I know something’s wrong. You let the weeds grow over Edward and Diana’s grave,” she nearly whispered, and Zelda frowned. She looked tired, and something broke in her eyes.
“Hildie, uh’m sorry,” she breathed, shaking her head, and Hilda was alarmed at the tears that were forming in her sister’s eyes. She sat down next to her on the bed.
“What’s wrong, my love?” she asked gently, a hand on her back, rubbing circles that Zelda swayed to.
“Uh’ve been trying. For th’coven. Fur Sabrina, an’ Ambrose. You. I…” the tears rolled down her cheeks, and Hilda felt a lump in her throat. “Somethng’s wrong, Hilda, I…it’s all jus’so hard.” Her voice cracked out then, turned hoarse and weak, and she rested her head on Hilda’s shoulder.
“Oh, Zelds, I didn’t know,” she breathed, holding her there, in the quiet dark of the night, the stale air of Zelda’s bedroom, the sniffling of her sister, and the buzzing of Hilda’s head, whirring with questions. “I think we should talk about this more tomorrow.” Zelda didn’t respond, but she lifted her head, and her expression broke Hilda’s heart. Heavy and so pervasively sad, it ached even in Hilda’s bones, and so she rested her forehead against Zelda’s, gentle and slow, they sat there for a moment. Just quiet, just still.
They’d never talked about Zelda’s honeymoon, Hilda afraid to pry, and Zelda never talking anywhere near it. She was too good at holding herself together, and Hilda so wished she knew she didn’t have to. Not for her family. Not for Hilda.
“Get some rest,” she told her softly, and Zelda nodded. Hilda stood up and walked to the door then, afraid to step too loudly and break the moment, whatever had cracked between them. She looked back at her sister from the doorway, sitting on the edge of her bed, a whole bottle of gin later, a lamp in the sitting room shattered, and Zelda in tears. She’d laughed when it broke, and something about it scared Hilda, the way she sighed, as if some of the tension inside her had broken too. Hilda remembered too vividly the day she’d walked in on Zelda with that whip, her back in tatters. The panic that shot through her and the fear that settled in her stomach at Zelda’s defeat, the weakness of her grip, and the way she didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, didn’t even breathe when Hilda cleaned her wounds.
She closed the door to Zelda’s room, it creaking in the quiet, and stood there in the hallway for a long time, staring at Zelda’s door. Then she let out a breath and padded slowly back to her room down the hall. It wasn’t until she climbed back into bed with a groan that she realized she’d never actually gotten the glass of water she’d gone downstairs for.
#wrote this just now so it's completely unedited#might add this to when i die series#writing#caos#zelda spellman#hilda spellman#completely irrelevant but this was cathartic after yesterday#caos fic
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