#ask which ones are based off me

[kneecoal-mooma]

Weasley Siblings Doing Very Specific Things As Children

Bill Weasley: Jammed a VHS player by shoving bottle caps inside of it because he thought it was a bottle cap "storage" (He tried to put bottle caps in the CD player too but they wouldn't fit)

Charlie Weasley: Has put multiple bowls of spaghetti over his head because he thought he looked cool with spaghetti on his head (he thought it was a hat)

Percy Weasley: Got a plastic doll for Christmas and played with it the whole day until he went to sleep and chewed on the hand and woke up the next morning with the hand shrivelled up

Fred Weasley: Flushed coloured pencils down the toilet and the rest of the family only found out when they were renovating The Burrow and found the pipe full of pencils

George Weasley: Woke up in the middle of the night to eat one lolly, only to keep going back until he ate half the packet and the family to find all the lolly wrappers in his bag the next morning

Ron Weasley: Drank green food colouring when he was three because he thought it was a cool drink, only for him to spill it all over himself and turned his lips, hands, and clothes green (which meant the rest of the family found out immediately)

Ginny Weasley: Climbed a tree to prove her bravery only to realise she was scared of heights and refused to climb down until they got a ladder

[alleesaur]

Dual type Mikus - Bug/Fairy/Ghost!

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[vaggieslefteye]

ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴄʜᴏᴏꜱᴇ ↳ anonymous asked: HUSK and ALASTOR or angel and valentino?

[budd-ie]

“Mu Qing is too logical for his own good” is such a real problem that he deals with and as tragic as it makes his life I also think it’s really funny when someone is accusing him of something and instead of telling them to shut up or leave him alone the first thing he does is pull out the 95 fucking theses detailing every single thing wrong with their argument WITH historical evidence and additional considerations from scholarly psychology articles, MLA format works cited and completely annotated. It could use an editor and some bias correction, but he actually makes a pretty good point. anyways tgcf ace attorney au when

[erinwantstowrite]

How do you feel about people binding personal copies of your works?

I have been reading Lof, and you are such an amazing writer that it blows my mind. When Lof is eventually finished, I would absolutely love to (with permission and loads of credit to you) bind a hardcover copy for personal reading . Reading through this fic has been such an emotional journey and I would love to be able to hold a physical copy. I was also thinking about incorporating some of the beautiful art you've done of the story into the pages of a book, that way the art was next to the scene you were reading. Again to be super clear this would just be something I'd make for myself to read, no monetary gain and tons of credit to you for the story and art!

Completely understandable whatever your answer may be, just wanted to ask your thoughts and let you know how much I've loved your writing!!

yeah that's perfectly fine!! i'm so glad you love LoF enough to do something as sweet as this, that's so amazing to me!! i'm fine with people binding their own copies for personal use- as long as no one is trying to use websites that could get LoF into trouble (i.e. trying to sell it, or paying for it, etc) then it's all cool with me!

[sea-jello]

hong kong miku,,,

[poems-of-the-anentomologist]

suffocating 

I’m doing the dishes again

Staring into the water

At that boy

How can I call myself a girl when the face that stares back

Is just another random boy

You’d see playing on a subrban corner

My name isn’t my name

People don’t call me by my name

I’ve been cut off

From everyone

If I died tonight

Nobody would notice

Just another kid

Just another teen suicide

It’s better than the alternative

To suffocate in this form

Would be preferable

To living in a world where nobody sees me

It’s better than the alternative

[shadowaj]

Shadow Realm: Epitome of Horror Mock HHN Shirt Design (Frontside)

[unknownarmageddon]

WAIMT. who.who did Killer make a deal with 👁👁👁👁👁was it was it was it/silly

OKAY SO. thats a great question i’ve been trying to figure that out

i really wanna say it was chara. i think chara was like, another standard demon that worked in hell’s fields. they didn’t have any high position or much power or anything. and i think they like. got so fucking bored and tired of hell that they grew drawn to killer, maybe mostly out of chance, and started like messing with his hell and watching him. and he didn’t Know who it was or could see them but he did know they always came back to torment him and he could like feel their constant presence. cause his hell always got a bit worse when they were around

and then eventually everything became so strained that they just ended up making a deal. chara in no way had the authority to make those kindsa deals but they did anyway, cause they figured they could at least use killer for something. and just to see what would happen

and then, what i’ve been thinking, is that chara used killer to try and escape from hell, free from the eyes of the higher ups, disguising it saying they’d get out together but really they just wanted him to do the heavy lifting and planned to stab him in the back at the end. but, then it backfired, and chara’s soul became unstable and kinda fused forcefully and uncomfortably with killer’s while killer was “climbing” out of hell (not sure if the climbing part is incredibly literal or not i have to think more about gates to hell in this context and etc etc). but then killer got pulled back in, pulling chara back in with him. so now they’re kinda just stuck like how they are. chara still has a semi physical form while they’re in hell, but if killer travels up to earth chara’s like how they normally are in utmv contexts. also the climbing out of hell was how killer got those marks on his arms cackles

[nervousmonolith]

thinking about the whole twt scam situation ™ again ough

[carnivalls]

good morning. thinking again of juve and her dog

[tangledinink]

Whats your opinion on alters (did/osdd traumagenic systems) formed from your aus? Since alters can't really control their source asking for a friend/lh

Go off, do your thing, feel free, etc etc etc. It doesn't bother me, if that's a concern. I've had a couple people tell me they have fictives from some of my AU's chilling in their heads and if anything I think it's kinda fun and funky and exciting to hear about? So far I'm aware of a Gemini!Mikey and a Swanatello out there in the world.

[giddlygoat]

my brother can make me laugh without moving at all. he can make me laugh on command, just by existing, and there is no physical tell or indication that it is about to happen. it’s like he can will me to laugh and i will. of course we’re not telepathic, but we do speak in unison sometimes. we improvise like no one’s business. we could fool anyone into believing we are psychically linked. when i try to explain it, i sound silly saying it out loud, but i really CAN tell what he’s thinking. we exchange so much information just with a look. he can make me cry laughing and he doesn’t even have to move

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

If the landlord doesn’t want me fishing around in their shower vent and cold air returns, then they shouldn’t make them stink like rotting garbage. You painted over the screws so they’re hard to open? Cool. I’ll drill holes into them and get them out with a power tool because the town next to me is having a citywide garage sale and I’m sure there’s some Ryobi in there at a decent price. Your vents are coming off motherfucker, and if I find anything I swear to fucking god I am going to have both your vents and your bank account cleaned out.

[agentartemus]

I thought today was a good one..