#gone boy fic

[comatosecringedotcom]

the chapter in question (link)

[justaz]

merlin told arthur his favorite color was the color of the sky during sunset when it shifted into a deep violet. arthur gets a tunic made in that exact shade. its the best thing merlin owns. arthur was hoping that would mean he’d wear it almost everyday but merlin almost never wears it. the only time he does wear it is when royals come to visit (which isn’t all that often). arthur “subtly” asks about it and merlin is like “it’s the best thing i own. i’m not gonna dirty it mucking out the stables or serving rowdy knights wine while they splatter food on it” and arthur is like “why not wear it when nobles come to visit? look at least a little presentable for them” (cough nice save). merlin doesn’t see the point in it bc nobles don’t care about him at best, view him as less than human at worst.

arthur really just wants to see his boyfriend servant in the tunic he had made for him (bonus points for sending a message that merlin is his. not that merlin seems to notice. man is too much of an idiot). merlin wants to preserve his favorite tunic and gift from his boyfriend king.

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: before the nightingale sings

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for my batdad blood blossom au, the one where Vlad poisoned Danny with blood blossom extract and Danny ran away from him and ended up tumbling into the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman :). A quick oneshot telling the tale of the tragic deaths of the Fentons

TW: Major Character Death Warning

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Not all deaths are created equal.

That is a valuable lesson in life to learn. One that Danny learns when he is eleven years old, standing in the pit of his parents’ creation; the culmination of their life’s work. The portal to the other side, the realm of the dead. To the infinite. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, in a hazmat suit that sags on him, and boots that clunk when he walks because the only ones that fit are his mom’s, and even those are too big. In gloves that he has to clench his fists in because otherwise they fall off. In goggles that slide down his nose even when he’s tightened them the farthest they can go. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, choking on giggles that harmonize with the laughter of his friends’ who stand at the mouth of the tunnel. Sam’s holding a polaroid in her hand. They’re just being kids. 

They’re not laughing when Danny’s hand hits the safety lock — the one with faulty wiring, the only one in the tunnel. The only one he could possibly hit. They’re not laughing when the portal buzzes to life, and the lights inside switch on row by row as the generator begins to rumble and hum. 

They’re not laughing when Danny dies. They’re screaming. They’re not screaming when he comes back.

Not all deaths are created equal.  

Some are poetic, beautiful. The satisfying close of a book as it comes to an end, of the hardback thumping soft against the pages like the sound of a door closing. A train run its course.

Some are violent; unsatisfying; unfair. The unexpected shattering of an egg as it rolls off the countertop when nobody is looking, the unmistakable crack as it falls to the floor. It is abrupt and messy. 

But most are just… unremarkable. Unintentional. Clumsy. 

Danny’s family dies one night in late January. He is thirteen years old, barely a month away from fourteen. It is unforeseen. It is preventable. It happens. 

It happens like this: 

Their water heater breaks one Monday in January. It’s old, sitting in the garage, and has dealt with nearly sixteen years of Fenton-grade chaos and shenanigans. Of parents tossing scraps and junk into the garage as brief storage to come back to later. Of illegal tune-ups on their vehicles that result in something exploding. Of little children running around and knocking things over, playing with poles and sticks they find on the ground, on the shelves. Of being lived and used.  

Something had to give. 

Jack Fenton notices it immediately when he comes upstairs that very afternoon — his children at school, his wife downstairs — to grab something from the garage. The very same scrap and used material they store like squirrels to use later. 

He stops what he’s doing to fix it.  

It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. 

Despite what many believe, Jack Fenton is not the idiot people make him out to be. He knows what he’s good at, he knows what he’s not. He knows he can be passionate and obsessive and single-minded about things. He knows that he is a scientist, an inventor; an engineer. 

He knows that he is not a plumber. That fixing water heaters is not something he knows how to do, not safely. And he loves his family. What he does is only meant to be temporary — a fix meant to only last a few days until they can call someone in who can fix it for them. 

So Jack Fenton futzes with the water heater, gives it a temporary stitch to last a short while, and reminds himself to call a plumber later that day to come in and fix it. He turns and leaves the garage with the part he came for —  a sheet of metal for his wife to melt down — and disappears back downstairs. 

He does not make that call; it slips from his mind. 

It is not his fault. 

One day passes, then two, then suddenly it is Thursday. The water heater has still not been fixed, the water heater has been forgotten. It is nobody’s fault.  

Danny asks his parents at breakfast if he can stay over at Tucker’s house for the night. Just one night. They’re going to study for their math test and then play video games until midnight, but he only tells his parents that first half. 

He’s been doing well in school. Really well — better than he has in a while. There’s been a delightful lull in ghost appearances for the last few weeks. The living don’t know why, but Danny does. The Winter Truce always calms the dead down for a while, something about how the Zone cleanses itself twice a mortal year and that fresh wave of ecto clears out the old and brings in the new. 

This year Danny got to participate. He’s feeling the effects of it too, and he’s been sleeping consistently well for the first time since the accident. 

It’ll never happen again. 

His parents agree under the condition that he doesn’t stay up late, and Danny harmlessly lies through his teeth and agrees. He goes and throws overnight clothes into his school backpack, and when he leaves for school with Jazz his parents are already departed into the lab. 

The last conversation he has with his sister is in her car on the drive to school. Inane, mindless conversation to fill the air and pass the time. Jazz comments on how relaxed he’s been lately; Danny tells her about the Winter Truce. She listens in rapt attention. 

She tells him that she’s glad to see him so well-rested. She thinks her little brother’s been growing up too fast these days. She thinks he’s been too tense. Too caught up with the spinning of the world around him that he forgets about himself sometimes. 

When they reach school, before Danny can get out of the car, Jazz looks to her little brother and says; “I love you.” 

Her little brother’s cheeks turn an embarrassed shade of red. He makes a scrunched up, grossed-out face, but can’t hide the smile pulling across it. “Don’t be a sap, Jazz. I’ll see you later.” He tells her, yanking his hood up over his head. She hears the bashful, ‘love you too’ before he walks away. 

That is the last conversation she ever has with her brother. 

Thursday is unremarkable, passing by in its normality as it always does. There’s one, maybe two ghost sightings; shades lurking around in curious infancy that are easily spooked away by the presence of a greater being. Danny doesn’t even have to go ghost. 

Thursday evening is even less so. Danny goes to Tucker’s house — Sam has a prior arrangement with her slam poetry club — and the two of them study for an hour before they toss their textbooks aside and reach for the game console. 

Danny sleeps in Tucker’s room with one of the extra blankets on his bed, curled across the room in one of the bean bag chairs. It shouldn’t be comfortable, but to Danny it is. He sleeps throughout the night, the portal shut down by his parents before they’d gone to bed. 

Early Friday morning, before the sun has even risen yet, before it’s even so much as a concept to grace the horizon, the water heater breaks again. It was supposed to be fixed. 

Carbon monoxide is a silent killer. Odorless and scentless, it kills within minutes. It fills the house like a shadow casting over the ground, creeping into the rooms. 

Danny’s family die in their sleep; painless and unaware. 

It’s not Jack Fenton’s fault. He didn’t mean to.  

Nobody wakes up with their alarms. 

Danny wakes up to Tucker Foley’s alarm on Friday morning, and he turns his head intangible and shoves it into the beanbag chair like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. Tucker gets up before him, and throws a pillow at him as he reaches for the alarm. 

There’s laughter, messing around. The both of them get dressed, and Danny has breakfast with the Foleys that morning. He takes the bus to school with Tucker, and they meet Sam by their lockers. 

To him, everything is as normal as it should be. There are no ghosts for him to fight right now, school is as school does, and he’s on top of all his schoolwork. 

He does not see Jazz at all that morning, he doesn’t notice. Their schedules are so different, their routes on different paths, that it’s not uncommon for Danny to not see Jazz until he gets home some days. That’s if there’s no ghost attacks. 

At lunch, he gets approached by her friends. Worried creases between their brows, they ask him if he’s seen Jazz. She hasn’t shown up to any of her classes. She’s not answering their texts. It’s unprecedented of her; unheard of. 

Danny doesn’t admit to the concern that swells in his gut when they tell him this. He shrugs at them, and says he hasn’t seen her either. But it was probably nothing to worry about; she might just be sick and sleeping it off. 

He offers to text her and let them know if he gets a response, and that seems to ease her friends enough that they shuffle away in uncertainty. He keeps his word, and does exactly that. He pulls out his phone and opens her contact, and shoots her a message.

‘Where are you?’ 

He doesn’t get a response back, Danny is left on sent. He puts his phone in his pocket, and with a sense of unease creeping in the back of his mind, goes on with his day. He gets no response by the time the final bell rings; and he tries not to be worried. 

The house is quiet when he opens the door. Unusually quiet. He drops his backpack to the floor, it lands with a hearty thunk, and begins to take off his jacket. “Mom! Dad!” He yells. He hangs it up, and slips his shoes from his feet. “Jazz skipped school today!”

A laughable untruth that would get his sister all riled up normally; she should be able to hear him from the front door if she was in her room. The house just stays dead silent. 

He can’t even hear the usual banging and crashing from the lab. His unease returns. He reaches for the intercom that leads directly down to the basement, and presses the button to turn it on. A burst of static, and then he speaks;

“Mom? Dad?” 

Danny lets go, and waits for a response. He gets none back. That never happens, not when the house is this quiet. Not when he knows they should’ve heard him. 

Something sickly and fearful borns in the pit of his stomach, and begins to snake upward. He heads for the lab. The cool metal of the door is familiar in the grooves of his hand, and he doesn’t even need to think about the code as he punches it in;  he simply lets muscle memory guide him. It’s been the same since he was little. 

The door hisses as the pressure is released, and he swings the door open. He takes the stairs down two at a time. Something is wrong. His parents aren’t answering him. His feet pound against the metal. 

“Mom? Dad?” He calls again, more worried, more frantic. More scared. His voice echoes down the stairwell, and he reaches the bottom before it’s fully faded. The lab is empty. The portal is still shut down. 

It was four in the afternoon, they should still be down here. 

Danny races back upstairs, fear-raised nausea coiling in his throat. “This isn’t funny you guys!” He yells when he reaches the top, shoving open the door with more force than necessary. His head swims, his voice cracked. 

He checks the garage, the car is still there. 

“Mom!? Dad!” His voice bellows out throughout the first floor, loud enough that it bounces back at him and rings against his ears. He’s never raised his voice this much — mom would scold him if she heard him. But she doesn’t show up. “Jazmine!” 

Finally, he goes upstairs, and he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is anger or terror. Something is very, very wrong. 

He swings the door of his parents’ rooms open first, and there they are, with the lights still off and the curtains still drawn. As if they hadn’t left their bed all day. Some of Danny’s fear lifts from his shoulders just by the sight of them, but he’s still trembling. Something is still wrong — the room smells… off. Not good, not bad. Just… off. 

He swallows dryly, his throat still thick, and steps into the room. “Mom, dad?” They do not stir. “Didn’t you guys hear me yelling?” 

There is only room static. Danny’s heart shrivels in his chest with a tenfold return of terror, he feels ill. He remembers, just now, that they’re not heavy sleepers, and his dad should be snoring like a freight house. 

Danny reaches their bedside in seconds, hand outstretching for the covers, “Momma? Dad?”

Not all deaths are created equal. 

But many of them are accidental. Unmeditated. Shocking.

Danny Fenton finds his family dead in his childhood home. He runs to his neighbors in hysterics, inconsolable, in tears. Nine-one-one is called, but there is nothing that can be done. They were dead for hours by the time Daniel Fenton returned home. 

He sits on the front steps of the neighbor’s house beside FentonWorks, his jeans slowly becoming wet from the snow that was unable to be scraped off, and watches the paramedics cart out his family beneath white sheets. There are police cars blocking off the street, yellow tape blocking off his house, red-blue lights lighting up the block, an ambulance on the scene. He is wrapped in a shock blanket, and he is missing his jacket and his shoes. His tears are freezing onto his face, he can’t feel the chill. 

Not all deaths are created equal

But all of them are unforgettable. 

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Trick or treat!! (Spoiler: it's a treat :3)

I had the pleasure of taking part in the Love Of My Afterlife server collaboration, celebrating Payneland's First Halloween — thanks to @manicpixiedreamedwins for organising!! And I had the absolute DELIGHT of illustrating the gorgeous, soft autumnal hug of a fic that is Season of Mists by @laiqualaurelote !!! Thank you darlin', working with you has been a joy and an honour 💛

Due to time constraints etc. I couldn't even do half the scene illustrations I wanted to do, so I may be back at some time in future with a few bonus sketches! In the meantime here's a soft little portrait of one of Edwin's several oh moments, and a snapshot of The Attic, his beloved and esoteric book warren!

Go forth, and experience the most perfect, gentle, lovely and loving autumn romance read this fine October day 🍂

Some art process pics (as well the Actual Size of the bookshop illustration) under the cut!

Started by very roughly sketching out the shop layout (I imagine it has a more warren-y shelf arrangement than this, though!) And doing a quick sketch. Of course then I liked the quick sketch so much I decided to try and recreate it but better!

Basic pencil layout (amazed at my accidentally decent perspective)

In with the detail sketch — trying to incorporate a load of esoteric little trinkets from the Agency! Although based on the fic I really should have honed in and done even more whimsical shelf decorations!

Sketch over the top in biro so i have something less messy that won't rub away to colour in

Basic colour with watercolour pencils. Looking at this stage makes me wish a bit that I'd not gone in as hard with the ink wash, as the colours are brighter and more autumnal, but you live and learn!

And finally, in with outlines and ink wash, aka my usual art style/medium!

Behold!! A very tiny and fussy work of art 😊

[twslug]

time to pretend

[lulublack90]

Prompt 15 - Bath

@jegulus-microfic October 15, Word count 537

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Regulus found a note folded neatly in the pocket of his robe. He was to meet James at the top of the stairs that led down to the dungeons. He rushed back to his dormitory and sunk into a scalding hot bath as he got ready for his date. 

He settled on a soft black wool jumper with his usual black trousers. He refused to dress like his slob of a brother in jeans. He shuddered at the thought. He adjusted the neck of his jumper and, taking a deep breath, went to meet James. 

“Hey, Reg,” James waved, grinning madly when he saw him coming up the stairs. Regulus had to bite his tongue to stop him from saying something scathing. 

“Hi,” He said, letting a small smile twitch the corner of his lips. James’s face lit up at the sight. James held out his arm and, to Regulus’s surprise, he took it. 

James led him across the grounds and into the forbidden forest. Regulus should have been afraid, walking in the dark forest at night, but he wasn’t. He felt oddly safe with James. 

They walked further than Regulus expected them to, but finally, they got to a small area where the trees had thinned, and the ground was covered in thick moss. Regulus looked closer and saw the odd colour change in the moss—fairy rings. 

James whistled softly, and a strange humming noise broke the silence. Out of the trees fluttered dozens of fairies. They floated down in rings, and upon seeing James, began to titter excitedly. 

“Hi,” James murmured quietly to who Regulus assumed was the queen of the fairies. “Do you think you could impress my date?” The tiny being moved so she could see Regulus, giggled and nodded at James before rising back to where the other fairies hovered. 

Regulus could hear music as the fairies spun and twirled. He had no idea where the sound was coming from, it was as though the earth was transmitting it straight into his head. The fairies began to glow brighter as their dancing intensified and Regulus watched in awe.

They reached a crescendo, bathing the area in their soft lights, and then slowly drifted higher, getting lost amongst the stars of the night sky. Regulus was unable to speak or move for a few minutes until James took his hand and stroked his thumb across the back of it, snapping Regulus out of the trance the fairies had put him in. 

“I don’t know how you’re going to top this for our next date,” Regulus told him, his eyes locked on James’s thumb as it caressed his hand. 

“I get a second date?” James asked, his voice hopeful. Regulus rolled his eyes.

“Yes,” James beamed at him, brighter than the fairy lights and led him on a romantic walk back to the castle, taking him all the way back to the secret entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. James bowed and pressed a kiss on the back of Regulus’s hand before leaving him with a stuttering heart against the blank expanse of stone wall, wondering how deep he was willing to fall for this absurd man and how far he’d already gone. 

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 90

Part 1 Part 89

For a group who’s routinely suffered through supernatural shenanigans, they’re not getting any better at these planning sessions. They always take too long and devolve into yelling at each other.

“Why don’t we just go in and turn the heater on?” Max asks, gesturing toward Will’s house like she couldn’t care less about any of this. “You heard that girl, you need to warm him up.”

“Yeah, we need to cut the connection before Supergirl closes the gate,” Eddie says, gesturing jerkily toward where Wayne had driven away. He doesn’t look away from Steve as he runs his hands up and down any visible skin, like just the heat of his own body will bring Steve back. “Run a bath or something, we’ve just gotta make it fast.”

“He’s a spy,” Will says, interjecting what everyone else seems to have forgotten, he talks right over Dustin’s squawked “he’s a what?” to finish, “if he knows where we are, the dogs can find us again.”

That finally gets Eddie to look his way. “But they’re dead,” he says, peeking out the van door to look at the corpses littering the ground, shadowed by the falling darkness. 

Carol scoffs, shouldering her way into the van. She uses the heel of her shoe to kick the Demodog corpse out of the van before settling into one of the vacant seats that’s clear of glass. “You’re crazy if you think that’s all there is, Munson.”

Barbara follows her in, squeezing Steve’s shoulder as she passes and settles into the seat beside Carol, dropping the nailed bat between her spread thighs, but keeping her hand around it, ready to squeeze. 

Will watches the two girls, transfixed. They’re both splattered with blood and shiny with sweat, leaning into each other like that’s where they belong. Will’s heard Eddie complain about Carol that he knows it shouldn’t work.

Carol’s stuck up. Carol’s preppy. Carol’s conceited, all in long-winded rants that Steve just sighs at. But Barbara’s been on the peripherals of Will’s life long enough that he knows she ticks some of those same boxes.

And they’re both looking at the rest of the party loitering out on the lawn with the same snide look, eyebrows raised, lips pursed. 

“Well?” Carol demands. “Are you waiting for those Demo-whatevers to come and kill us, or are we going to get the hell out of here?”

Everyone piles in, one atop of another as they try to find seats. Mike settles beside Will, shoulders pressed together. Something snake-coiled and tight in his gut loosens. Will leans into Mike’s side. 

“Eddie, sweetie, can you start this thing again?” Mom calls, settling into the driver’s seat. 

“Where are we going anyway?” Mike asks, looking at Will for answers he doesn’t have.

But, as Eddie trips up to help Mom with the car, Will jumps up, calling “don’t say anything!” to his perpetually loud friends as he ties Wayne’s flannel back over Steve’s eyes, and putting Jonatha’s headphones over his ears after rewinding the tape and hitting play. 

“You meant that literally?” Dustin demands. “Steve’s a spy?”

“For what?” Max asks.

“The Mind Flayer,” Mike replies, looking up at Steve with a sully expression. 

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Dustin demands.

“It fits!”

“Does it?” Lucas asks, smiling that sneaky smile at all of them.

Barbara’s the one that scoffs this time, throat clicking with the force of it. “Is this really what matters right now?”

“Yes!” Mike cries, just as Dustin lets out a resigned, “no.”

The van starts up with a cheer from Eddie, and Mom starts driving. 

“Go to the Harrington house,” he orders, settling into the passenger seat, even as he looks back at Steve like he can’t help but to take him in. 

Mom dutifully backs out of the driveway, heading that way as everyone argues about the intelligence of going somewhere Steve knows so well.

It’s Carol who snaps in, snide and mean. “Where else are we going to get an empty house to sweat it out of him?” she demands, not waiting long enough for anyone else to answer as she settles back into her seat with crossed arms. “Besides, those bastards can pay for the heating bill.”

Eddie’s laugh rings out, bitter and hollow from the front seat as he meets Carol’s eyes, something nameless and understanding passing between them. Will gets it. Steve hadn’t wanted to talk to his parents even from hell. He hasn’t been back in months. That’s not something that comes about from a loving relationship with one’s parents.

Will would know. He never wants to see Lonnie again. Not after Mom’s black eye and Jonathan’s broken arm. 

Some bodies are better left buried. 

Some bodies are crawling out of their own shallow graves. That becomes obvious when Max gasps, squishing her nose against the back window of the van, just as a car, something loud and sporty squeals on its tires as it takes a turn too fast. 

Will doesn’t know how long it’s been behind them. None of them do, with the way they’d been arguing among themselves, squabbling over logistics when there was a fox trying to sneak into the henhouse. 

They’re not sneaking any more.

“He’s following us,” Max says, face washed-out and pale against her flaming hair as she turns away from the window, back to the door as she huddles down into herself.

“Who?” Lucas asks, rushing up beside her to crouch beside her, peeking obviously out of the window. “Is that Billy?”

“Who–” Mom starts to ask.

“My stepbrother,” Max says, hands shaking subtly where they’re dangling between her knees. “He’ll kill me.”

She pulls Lucas down beside her, shoving him down past the lip of the window. As if her stepbrother hadn’t already seen them both.

Mom hums, but keeps driving, speeding up enough that the turns make them all fling around, lurching back and forth with the momentum of the tires. It doesn’t work. The car just keeps following them, close enough that the headlights illuminate the dark interior of the van. The whites of Max’s eyes are shining. 

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Mom calls, finally pulling into the Harrington’s long, dark driveway, and pulling the van all the way in and putting it in park. “He won’t get anywhere near you.”

Mom steps out of the van just as the car pulls to a stop, tires squealing showily. When he steps out, he doesn’t bother to turn off his car. His headlights beam across the Harrington driveway, painting his Mom in light. 

Her hands are raised, like Billy’s holding a gun, even as he smiles charmingly at her and holds out his hand for a shake. Mom takes it, but she’s still wary, and she holds her hands up again in supplication. 

It’s a body posture Will hasn’t seen in a long time. Not since Lonnie had driven away after slamming the door so hard the front window broke. It makes him queasy to see it now. 

Will can’t hear what they’re saying, but Billy’s smile is fixed, painted on and empty. Max scoots back further into the van, like she can phase straight through the metal into somewhere else. Somewhere better.

Will knows that body posture well, too. Remembers it in the slope of his own shoulders, the futile squeezing of his fists when they were small and futile.

Mom takes a step back, covering the entrance to the van with the width of her arms, smile cracking along the edges as her deescalation of the situation shatters beneath her feet. Billy shoves past her, knocking her to the side. She keeps her feet, but it doesn’t matter: Billy’s already in front of the door, looking inside.

He’s not looking at Max, though. His eyes are trained on Steve, wide, smile unfurling from his mouth, all teeth and jagged edges.

It drops a second later as he hunches over just enough to bully his way into the van. “King Steve Harrington,” he drawls, stretching out Steve’s first name like it means something. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

He walks toward Steve like he’s pulled, hand reaching toward his face. To help or to hurt, Will doesn’t know. But it doesn’t matter because Carol launches out of her chair and tackles Billy with enough force to send him stumbling back out of the van, sprawling in the driveway, Carol on top of him.

“What the fuck?” he cries, shoving Carol in the breastbone. “Get off me, you bitch!”

She doesn’t. “You don’t fucking touch him,” she snarls, something wild and animal emerging as she bites his arm. It almost looks like instinct when he pulls his hand back, punching her straight in the face. 

She’s flung off him with the force, falling into Mom who’d come to help her and taking her down with her in a messy, writhing heap. 

Eddie springs free from the passenger seat and darts out the open driver’s side door. 

“Maxine!” Billy snarls, loud in the quiet night’s air. He’s holding the back of his head, and when he removes it, Will can see the bright red of blood shining in Billy’s headlights. “I’m going to fucking kill–”

He doesn’t get to finish. Eddie barrels into him at full speed, tackling him back into the pavement and swinging wildly. Carol crawls over to help, snatching arms and legs and hair as the lights of nosy neighbor's flicker on all around them, rich people ready for a show. 

Part 91

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb

[johnslittlespoon]

– when the coyote come, i'll be your watchman.

[comatosecringedotcom]

chapter 3 is out!!

ruhroh…..

taglist: @annabelle-creart (comment on post to be added)

[nat-without-a-g]

Thinking about how (almost) every kid wanted to be the chosen one for the Hell Prophecy, and Taylor’s anime opening bit in the first episode. Tried picking out who what the MC of what genre but it was really hard as someone who usually does not consider genre ^^;

[kyrilu]

Hob Gadling once told the boys: "The pain fades, believe me. I've been in love so many times now I can barely count them, and you always get over it eventually."

(Meanwhile, Edwin is quietly in love with Charles for decades.)

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

The most toxic thing about the CoD fandom is how some of yall will be talking about what an old man Price is and then be like "he's 37" and if that's not like getting slapped in the face by a fresh trout I don't know what is

[theodorenmyth]

hi!, i saw your post asking for requests, and I had a cute one for enzo!, so basically, just a cute, fluffy fic about lorenzo and male!reader, and enzo's planned out a nice date, but things keep going wrong. (maybe he wanted to have a romantic picnic, but it start raining, so they have to run back to the castle) and the poor boy gets really mopy about it, but the reader just laughs and comforts him, and they end up laughing about it and having fun doing different things! no pressure, just a cute idea I wanted to see in your style 🥰

-⭐

Rain or Shine

Pairings : Lorenzo Berkshire x M! Reader

Summary : Lorenzo Berkshire planned a perfect picnic date for you by the Black Lake, complete with your favorite foods and a romantic setting. However, as the rain starts pouring down, Lorenzo's plans are ruined, leaving him devastated. Despite the chaos, you comfort him with laughter and warmth, reminding him that the best moments aren't always planned. Together, you explore hidden corners of Hogwarts, from secret passageways to enchanted rooms, creating unforgettable memories. Through shared laughter and spontaneous adventures, Lorenzo learns that true perfection comes from the love and joy you share, rain or shine.

A/n : Enjoy (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

Warnings) : nothing

Word count : 1k+

You had always admired Lorenzo Berkshire. There was something about his determined nature, his genuine kindness, and his penchant for grand romantic gestures that never ceased to amaze you. So, when he invited you on a special date, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement.

The day started off perfectly. Lorenzo had been secretive about his plans, only mentioning that it would be something special. You met him in the Great Hall, where he greeted you with a shy smile, a picnic basket in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other.

"Hey, Enzo," you greeted, taking in the sight of him. He looked particularly handsome today, his dark hair neatly styled and his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Hi," he replied, his voice warm and inviting. "I hope you're ready for a little adventure."

You grinned, feeling your heart swell with affection. "Lead the way."

Lorenzo guided you out of the castle and towards the lush, green grounds of Hogwarts. The weather was perfect—sunny with a gentle breeze, the sky a brilliant blue. As you walked, he talked about his favorite spots around the school, sharing little anecdotes that made you laugh.

Eventually, you arrived at a secluded clearing by the Black Lake. Lorenzo set down the picnic basket and spread out a blanket, patting the spot next to him.

"Ta-da!" he announced, eyes twinkling with pride. "Welcome to our very own picnic paradise."

You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "It's perfect, Enzo."

As you settled down, he began unpacking the basket, revealing an array of your favorite foods. Sandwiches, fresh fruit, pastries, and even a bottle of sparkling pumpkin juice. You were touched by the effort he had put into making everything just right.

However, as soon as you took your first bite, you felt a drop of water hit your cheek. You looked up, and to your dismay, dark clouds were rolling in, fast replacing the clear blue sky.

Lorenzo noticed your expression and followed your gaze. His eyes widened in panic as the first raindrop fell on his face. "Oh no.." he muttered, scrambling to cover the food. "This wasn't supposed to happen!"

The rain started to fall harder, turning into a downpour within seconds. You quickly helped him gather everything, the two of you laughing despite the chaos. You grabbed the blanket, and Lorenzo took the basket, both of you sprinting back towards the castle, completely soaked.

By the time you reached the entrance, you were both drenched and out of breath. Lorenzo looked absolutely devastated, his hair plastered to his forehead and his clothes clinging to his skin.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I wanted everything to be perfect, and now it's ruined."

You placed a reassuring hand on his arm, trying to catch your breath. "Enzo, it's okay. Really."

He shook his head, blinking back tears. "I just... I wanted to do something special for you. And now we've got nothing."

You couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation suddenly hitting you. "Enzo, look at us. We're soaked, and we just had to run through the rain. But you know what? I'm having the best time because I'm with you."

He looked at you, surprised. "Really?"

"Really," you affirmed, giving him a warm smile. "This is just another adventure we can laugh about later. Come on, let's head inside and dry off."

He hesitated for a moment before nodding, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Okay."

The two of you made your way to the Slytherin common room, where you found a cozy spot by the fire. Lorenzo quickly cast a drying charm on both of you, and you settled down on the couch, wrapped in a warm blanket.

"Better?" you asked, nudging him gently.

He nodded, though his expression was still a bit glum. "Yeah. I'm just sorry that the picnic didn't go as planned."

You chuckled, leaning your head against his shoulder. "It's not about the perfect plan, Enzo. It's about spending time together and making memories, no matter how they turn out."

He looked at you, his eyes softening. "You're amazing, you know that?"

You grinned, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I try."

Lorenzo's mood began to lift as you talked and laughed, sharing stories and jokes. The rain continued to pour outside, but inside, everything felt warm and cozy. You could see the tension slowly leaving his body, replaced by a relaxed and content demeanor.

"Hey, I have an idea," you said suddenly, sitting up. "Why don't we make our own fun? We don't need a picnic to have a good time."

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you have in mind?"

You jumped up, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. "Let's explore the castle. There are so many hidden places we haven't discovered yet."

He smiled, the sparkle returning to his eyes. "Alright, lead the way."

You spent the next few hours wandering through the castle, finding secret passageways and hidden rooms. You even stumbled upon an old, abandoned classroom filled with dusty but intriguing artifacts. Lorenzo's laughter echoed through the halls as you tried on old hats and pretended to duel with broken wands.

At one point, you found a room with an enchanted ceiling that displayed a perfect night sky, complete with twinkling stars. You both lay on the floor, gazing up in awe.

"This is incredible," Lorenzo whispered, reaching for your hand.

You intertwined your fingers with his, feeling a deep sense of contentment. "Yeah, it is."

As the evening drew to a close, you found yourselves back in the common room, exhausted but happy. Lorenzo turned to you, his expression earnest.

"Thank you," he said softly. "For everything. Today didn't go as planned, but it turned out even better because of you."

You smiled, feeling your heart swell with affection. "Anytime, Enzo. I had a blast, and I'd do it all over again."

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. "I love you."

You kissed him back, feeling the warmth of his affection envelop you. "I love you too, Enzo."

As you sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, you realized that it didn't matter if things went wrong. What mattered was the love and laughter you shared, and the memories you created together. And in that moment, everything was perfect.

[odo-apologist]

Me enjoying a rewatch of a Red Dwarf episode, having a good time: 🙂

My traitorous brain: Hey, this scene takes place away from Red Dwarf and Starbug, Lister probably doesn't remember it after M-Corp

Me: 😧

[redacted-thething]

did u know. that you can easily find the motivation to make funny casualty as text posts. simply by procrastinating on finishing the casualty fic u are trying to write? come back tomorrow for more fun facts wirh toby.

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[lulublack90]

Prompt 13 - Tender

@jegulus-microfic September 13, Word count 39

His eyelids fluttered. His heart pounded. His mouth went dry as James Potter leant in and placed the most tender kiss he’d ever received on his lips and in that moment Regulus knew he was gone for the boy.