#NYE ideas

[kentnaturaltribrid]

2025 coming your way!!! ⚜️

Happy NyE!

[prythianpages]

thinking about the New Year’s Eve trend where you go under the table (also I always grew up hearing that going under the table will bring you a luck in finding a partner but now I see the trend is to go under the table and eat 12 grapes so now idk what the actual tradition is lol, anyways back to my little thought):

You made sure to have the grapes ready at this year’s NYE, talking excitedly about the man you want to manifest with Nesta…who knows what she’s doing and suggesting traits that tease at Azriel. Cassian thinks it’s hilarious and he is also excited to see if you’ll actually be able to devour all 12 grapes so fast, already placing bets with Feyre.

Meanwhile, Azriel, who is madly crushing on you, watches from his corner of the room. He thinks it’s just all fun and games…this can’t really work, right? I mean, why would it work? There’s no real magic behind this…

But then Mor casually brings up that she had done this one NYE and it brought her, her most memorable fling and she sighs wistfully…panic begins to stir in Azriel.

The clock is ticking…

Azriel’s shadows begin to dance frantically around him, mirroring his inner turmoil as the inner circle prepares to cheer you on.

His eyes widen when you scoop a couple of grapes into your hand because Mother above, you’re actually going to do this and what if it actually works and he never gets a chance to confess…

10…9…8…

Azriel suddenly appears at your side, wings knocking awkwardly against the table, his shoulder bumping yours as he makes himself fit in that small space.

“Az, what are you—“

“I have to tell you something.”

“Right now??”

7…6…

Azriel reaches for your hand, the one that is holding onto a handful of grapes, and lowers it. A confused frown settles on your features and he coaxes your gaze to his with his other hand, eyes searching yours.

“Az—“

5…4…

The hand clutching the handful of grapes twitches in his grip, still determined to complete the tradition.

3…2…

But Azriel tightens his hold and wastes no more time. He leans in, crashing his lips against yours and pulling you into a frantic but sweet kiss.

“Happy new year!”

When he pulls away, your cheeks are flushed and eyes are wide but there’s a smile on your face. “What else do you have to tell me?”

Azriel only grins and says “so much more,” before kissing you again.

[what-the-fuck-khr]

new artwork for the newest KHR x Sanrio collab and merch that’ll be held via lottery!

[zylphiacrowley]

Code Blood

<previous - next>

[shefightslikeagirl]

Happy New Year!

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Hugh

Masterlist

Late-19th century whump. A little backstory that popped into my head. This is probably a year and a half before Hugh helps hold August down for first aid.

The first time Wyatt lays eyes on him, he almost dismisses it as a trick of the light. 

It’s pissing down. A rainfall so unrelenting, it hits the ground twice. He’s only lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the boy because Theo’s word has sent him looking down every alley and around every corner. A week and no sightings have him questioning Theo’s reason but not the continued search. 

“This one looks like he’s never known warmth.” 

Theo’s words have been running through his mind since he heard them. Some misguided hope pushing him to prove Theo was laying it on too thick. 

Between a stack of crates and sacks of rubbish, a flash of pale skin and a sharp elbow. An even sharper chin when the boy turns, sensing himself observed, and he’s gone. 

Wyatt rushes down the alley after him, cobblestones slick underfoot. He bursts onto the street, skidding to a halt to squint through the rain but there’s no sign of the boy. 

It’s another fortnight before Wyatt sees him again. 

He starts to wonder if the boy caught his death, coatless on the streets in a late-October rain that fell without pause into November. The thought doesn’t stop him checking all the nooks and crannies everywhere he goes. 

The boy has his back pressed against a shed in the alley beside a bakery. A lamp illuminates the mouth of the alley. One step closer and his shadow will be the alarm that sends the boy running. With a few yard’s head start, there’s no hope of catching him this time either. Wyatt stays where he is. A full five minutes he waits, afraid to even reach up to ash his cigarette, the boy just as still. Hiding but to what end? He’s looking away so there’s no telling where his focus is. Still wearing the same short-sleeved undershirt, no jacket or coat to speak of. He’s rail thin and visibly shivering.  

When the boy finally turns, he stiffens immediately, tension visible in the wiry muscles of his forearm. His unkempt hair is a dark curtain over his profile but as he pauses, a short huff of breath is visible in the winter air. The vapour hasn’t even dissipated before he slips down the throat of the alley and lets the city swallow him.  

Wyatt doesn’t stop the third time. 

The boy is tucked behind a stack of empty barrels behind a pub, legs folded up against his chest. In the few strides it takes Wyatt to walk by, the boy passes something between his thin fingers, carefully setting it down with a few other objects collected at his feet. He doesn’t look up and Wyatt lets himself get too optimistic. 

Needless to say, he’s gone an hour later.

Wyatt sighs, hand carrying a small jug of milk and a pasty falling to his side. Perhaps it would have been better to try to speak to him, empty words or not. 

He gives the closest barrel a half-hearted kick of frustration and something clinks against the cobblestones. Wyatt stoops, ducking into the alcove and marveling at how the boy managed to fit in such a space. He finds a pristine-white seashell and a tiny bell the size of his fingertip. It’s a cheap thing, crudely hammered into the small shape, gold paint on the tin scratched and chipped. Twisting his arm at angles he would not normally volunteer, Wyatt discovers the rest of the hidden cache. 

He leaves it undisturbed, replacing the felled treasures and his optimism with them. Wyatt tucks the bottle of milk and the wrapped pie in the niche. He hurries off, lest the boy find him lurking and stay away all the longer.   

The next day, Wyatt returns to a bottle full and the food uneaten. Untouched would be a better term, as though the boy has marked it forbidden even to the vermin. Wyatt already knows the collection will be gone but he checks anyway. He could laugh, save the fact that the task of finding the boy has been stalking him as much as the other way around. Every time he steps out, any time he can’t sleep. Just another loop around the block, a quick check down a quiet lane, a diversion down the East side of the river. 

Theo tells him to throw the towel in. “Maybe he doesn’t want to be found.” 

He doubles down. 

Now he’s looking for something in particular. He catches sight of him a handful of times in the coming weeks. Never in the same place twice, never for longer than flash. 

It takes weeks. 

But the city isn’t as infinite as it seems. The perfect stage is inevitable. 

In the quietest hour before dawn, Wyatt does his usual rounds. He makes a habit of checking in on the boys who work the night shift before their replacements arrive. After a smoke with Tom on the bridge, Wyatt weaves his way behind a block of riverside houses, moss-covered garden walls stretching along one side. The smoke rises from the chimneys in thin whisps, hearths waiting to be reawakened after the home’s inhabitants. He passes the same hound as always, sleeping on the back step of the last house. 

He’s about to turn left at a dead end when he sees him. Sitting up on the wall, one foot swinging and the other knee pulled to his chest. The boy’s head snaps up, leg lifting in the same motion like he’s on a marionette string, moving to drop to the other side of the wall. 

“Wait,” Wyatt calls, gentling his voice. 

Even in the soft light, Wyatt can see his eyes narrow, but for some reason he pauses. 

Wyatt pulls one of Midge’s hand pies out of his pocket, wrapped in paper and tied with kitchen twine, something he’s never without these days. The boy can surely see it but Wyatt lifts it to show him anyway, then places it on the ground and takes a few steps away. 

The boy is not impressed. 

But the dog from the last house is. It rises from the ground, lifting its nose to smell the air. Not quite brave or hungry enough to skirt in front of Wyatt for the prize, but locked onto the scent. 

Wyatt takes another step away, in the direction of his turn, leaving a straight path between the dog and the pie, the boy watching scrupulously from the wall. 

The hound takes a hesitant step forward. 

Seeing Wyatt’s end, the boy curls his hands into fists. He glares daggers at Wyatt, not even bothering to watch the dog continue its advance. 

Wyatt is hard-pressed to hide his smirk, wondering if the huffed growl came from the hound or the boy. He scarcely breathes as he watches the standoff, thrilled with his gamble. No matter the end, he’ll learn something about this scrappy street shadow. Whether he likes it or not.

At the last second, the boy springs off the wall, snatching the little parcel from close enough to be bitten. But the hound only sits, hopeful for a morsel as he watches the boy bound over the wall, pausing only to throw a last bitter look at Wyatt before he disappears. 

@whumpy-writings @deluxewhump @no-whump-on-main @maracujatangerine @painsandconfusion

@wolfeyedwitch @briars7 @gala1981 @redwingedwhump @whumpflash

@poeticagony-blog @annablogsposts @fleur-alise @melancholy-in-the-morning @crystalquartzwhump

@magziemakeswhatever @neverthelass @cakeinthevoid @inkstainsonmyhands12 @morning-star-whump

[aeb-art]

soooo… i did another comic with geo (who of course belongs to @8um8le)! it ending up stretching the page quite a bit, so the rest is under the cut o7

and geo proceeded to win every single round of pool that night, the end, thank you for reading this far 🙇

i'm still not super confident in writing for geo, but i had too much fun with this to care ehehe 🥰 this is the year of indulgence, everyone!

edit: i just realized that I PUT THE CIRCUITS ON THE WRONG ARM! it's supposed to be on my right not my left, oh i'm so mad 😭💔

[multifandomhoodies]

anyone else hate long distance relationships and lack of consistent feelings on their part

[moon-buggg]

every day I fantasize about my hypothetical science edutainer dca oc and every day I am completely ruined by my inability to come up with a good design

[alirhi]

It really sucks being the only one in the house that cares about something. Like, I get it's trivial, which is why I don't say anything, but god damn.

I want so badly to just stand in the middle of the living room and say "you have your own goddamn dishes. Please stop using mine."

it's just so fucking annoying to go into the cabinet to grab something and it's not there, because it's in the sink covered in gross remnants of food and germy dishwater. And I have a few things that have special significance or sentimental value to me that I'd rather not get touched at all but I have nowhere else but the kitchen to put them. Even sticking them in a separate cabinet away from everything like them hasn't helped. Stocking the main cabinet with things that are just as useful that I care less about doesn't help. All I want to do is scream at them HANDS OFF. GRAB SOMETHING ELSE. but the two things I'm most pissed off about aren't even fragile or expensive. their cheapness was actually kind of the point. their sole purpose is for a tradition my sister and I have and every time I see them dirty and thrown carelessly on the counter or in the sink I want to fucking scream.

[charleslelurk]

Currently have my google docs tab for the kink prompt open, as well as a doc for a crack fic, another nortrell fic @bumblewyn gave me an idea for, a charles/carlos/lando rancid situationship thing, and the fic I need to work on for the carlando winter break exchange. Someone SEDATE me

[husbandhoshi]

hey! i just saw your post and was wondering if you could do on with vernon and we're both law students? but ignore my ask if i'm too late

i take the opportunity to tell you how much i like your works!

happy new year and have a nice day!

“your honor, i object.”

vernon says this before blowing another pearly balloon of bubble gum. you watch it disappear into his mouth and deflate under the sharp edge of his canines.

“on what grounds?”

“that this shit sucks. and we shouldn't be studying on new year's eve,” he replies simply. the pen in his hand pirouettes between his thumb and his index, catching the dim light of the desk lamp. then he closes his textbook with a dull thud, as if to punctuate his sentence. "i'll walk you home."

"vernon," you whine. "i don't know about you, but i have, like, three more chapters and an essay to write. did you even look at the textbook?"

"same, and no." vernon packs his things up--all two of them--and looks at you over the tops of his lashes like he's been caught. "i'm probably five chapters down, to be honest."

"ugh." you know better than to be surprised by vernon. ever since you had met in high school, he had unfailingly been that annoying kid who could read only the back of a book and still score top marks on an exam. "i'm prosecuting you for being irresponsible."

"guilty." he laughs, ruffling your hair affectionately. "let me walk you home. we'll get pizza and watch the fireworks. and then we can do our essays."

"fine. whatever," you grumble, but the other thing about vernon is that you could never, ever turn him down.

[silverislander]

gonna be honest 2025 is not gonna be my year. i already know it. i've done the whole "2020/2021/2022/2023/2024 will be my year" and it hasn't been my year even Once. so if i get a nice surprise i'll be happy to take it but i'm not going to set the bar above the ground or anything

[theneonfennec]

Phoenix please tell me everything about your OCs. 😍

HEHEHE WELL IF YOU INSIST- Okay but no legitimately I have like, 27 stories I work on with varying degrees of frequency, probably 5ish that I consider "Major Projects" in that I come back to work on them often and there's a ton for me to talk about. I've shared bits and pieces over the years over at @telebeast, my main art blog, but I've gotten increasingly apprehensive about showing off messy or WIP works over there. I'll use this moment though to ramble about one of my most Beloved homegrown blorbos!

It would be impossible for me to NOT talk about Murphy Nye. She's a character who went from a little idea to a favorite in record time during the autumn of 2022. She's a conspiracy theorist, OBSESSED with finding proof of aliens. Over time, she's made herself more and more paranoid about others interfering with her search, to the point where she spends most her time in seclusion, digging up evidence and watching the skies. She's blunt, loud, and extremely high strung. I intentionally wanted her to embody tropes often seen in male characters, but almost never in female ones (Though, if you asked her her gender, she'd probably just respond with "What are you, a cop?"). Her story is a tug of war between isolation and connection, her journey towards finding her people. Oh yeah, and her encounter with a real life alien. If any of that sounds interesting, I highly recommend giving @evidence-of-the-unknown a look. It's my webcomic telling her story! Great for folks looking for queer science fiction with a focus on characters and over-developed worldbuilding. And if anyone has more specific questions about her, I'd be happy to answer them! (though, some things may be spoilers >:3)

[sleevebuscemii]

happy new years i think i want my ex back

[wolfpackmuses]

❝It's the New Year's Eve holiday... Perhaps one of these years I should do something to celebrate it. What that may be? Hmmph... Who is to say. Maybe I'll hold off on any trials for the New Year.❞

A pause...

❝So long as none of you do something to invoke my wrath....❞