#the twins are not opposite of one another!

[desideriumwriter]

Anyone But You | Chapter 15

Summary: You decide to pretend that nothing happened the last day you stayed at the burrow, have an awkward conversation with Fred, and hear some bothersome rumors.

WC: 1.7k

A/N: another shortie! but this next chapter is gonna be messyyyyyy so lock in, also merry (late) christmas!

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You left the night you kissed Fred. Deciding it would be the best to run away from the awkward tension for now. 

You could at least prepare for the tension that would be there when you got back to school.

Though you tried your best to prepare. You still weren’t ready.

On the express back to Hogwarts, you sat with Angelina and Katie. Angelina left a few times to go see George.

You did your best to act like nothing had happened between Fred and you. Pretending like you never cried to him, again, slept in his bed, cuddled him, and kissed him.

Trying to convince yourself none of that happened. You planned to do this for the rest of your time at school. Maybe your entire life too.

You avoided any possible subject that would lead to bringing up the twins. 

You laid down on your seat in your booth anytime the memories became too much, you slept most of the ride to avoid them.

The Start-Of-Term Feast wasn’t too awkward as you expected. 

Of course, Angelina wanted to sit by George, her new boyfriend. Katie and you followed along and sat with the twins.

Surprisingly, you were able to make conversation with the both of them. Fred especially.

It seemed he had the same plan as you, to pretend like nothing happened between you too during Spring break.

Nothing happened. No crying in his arms, no snuggling in bed, no close moments in the kitchen, no kissing.

That was the plan for the both of you. But it showed you were both still thinking of those moments through the quick glances and looks you shared with each other.

Katie nor Angelina had caught any of them, or at least hopefully they hadn’t. You just really wanted to get back to your dorm and away from all this tension.

The rest of the first years that were chattering in the corner went up to their dorms. Leaving the only remaining people in the common room being Fred and you.

Fred was on the sofa, sketching something on a piece of parchment, his face extremely focused, the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth. It was kind of cute.

You were sitting on the chair opposite from the red leather sofa. Feet sitting on the cushion beneath you, reading a book that was laid against your knees. You weren’t tired yet, but you hoped this would make you sleepy.

Yet, you couldn’t stop looking over at Fred. Not being able to focus on the words on the pages for more than a minute at most, your eyes kept darting up to the redhead across from you.

This time, you were the first to speak.

“Already working on a new shop idea?” You half-joked from behind your legs. Fred looked away from the paper.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Just updating one of the firework ideas we had.” You hummed and nodded in response, looking back to your book.

“So, how was the rest of your break?” Fred spoke, going back to sketching.

“It was good. Fine. Yours?”

“Mine was good too.” Fred nodded. You wanted to scream, you were cringing in your skin at the amount of awkwardness between the two of you. 

You’d rather go back to him pissing you off than to deal with whatever this was for another minute.

You put your book down before blurting out your next few words.

“I…I missed you.” There’s no way those words just came out of your mouth. Your last year self would be gagging at the sight of this.

The sound of Fred’s quill scratching the paper ceased.

In your peripheral, you could see Fred look at you. Most likely some confused and surprised look on his face. 

You didn’t dare look at him, your eyes focused on fluttering flames from the fireplace.

“Yeah. I missed you too.” Fred took a minute before he spoke.

“I like you, Fred. More than I care to admit.“ Your eyes went wide at your sudden confession, wondering what the hell was making you say all this. 

“Oh. That’s…nice to hear.” Fred breathed out.

“I’ve been stopping myself from saying that for a while.” You let out a scoff of disbelief, looking down at your hands in your lap. 

The cogs were turning in Fred’s head, trying to figure out how to respond. You were unpredictable now that he wasn’t getting on your nerves, this was a struggle.

“What’s been stopping you?”

You opened your mouth and hesitated, then closed it. Waiting a moment before attempting to speak again.

“I don’t know. I think I’m just afraid.” You fiddled with your fingers.

 “Of what?” Fred pressed, you wished he wouldn't. You wished you never said anything at all.

“Of liking you too much.” There was a bigger word you could’ve used there instead of “like”, you were afraid to say that one too. 

You were denying that you felt that strongly.

“What’s so bad about that?” Fred shrugged, you hesitated to speak.

“I don’t know. It just feels…wrong.” You scratched at your arm. 

“Nothing wrong with someone being likable. You’re likable, surprisingly.” He teased, it earned a breathy chuckle out of you.

“Look at us, being friends and all nice to each other. After all the times I’ve been an asshole to you.” You let out a guilty smile as you finally looked up at him.

"I’ve never cared about any of that. I'm just glad we're not at each other's throats any more.” Fred shrugged, giving you such a heartwarming smile as he began to gather his things.

God, why was he so sweet? Why was he so sweet to you, out of all people?

“I also realized I never said thank you for…everything really. Getting me out of the crowd during the attack, the gifts, inviting me over.” You rubbed your hands down your face, the realization and guilt eating you alive.

“Thank you. For being so nice to me, I really don’t think I deserved any of it after how I’ve treated you.” You let out a nervous laugh, not finding anything amusing, just nervous as hell.

“Maybe, I think you’re just too pretty for me to be mean to. Goodnight, Y/N.” Fred said as he stood up, leaving the room and going up to his dorm before you could even fully process what he just said.

You guess your impulsive confession led to one from him as well.

You really tried not to be stuck on Fred’s words for the rest of the night, or next few days. He called you pretty. It made your chest tighten.

Things moved on normally, Fred and you were good enough at acting as if nothing happened between you to the point where it felt like nothing actually did. Though deep down, you both still could remember what your lips fell like pressed together.

Katie and Angelina, nor George or Lee ever caught on to those occasional glances. Actually, you wondered if George was ever told about it. George and him are twin brothers, of course they tell each other everything. He definitely knew.

You tried not to dwell on the thought of that as well.

You and Fred carried on with the act, talking to each other as if that secret yearning didn’t return in both your chests.

Later on, you started to believe Fred was moving on, or had moved on. His eyes didn’t linger on your face for too long anymore, he didn’t shoot those glances with a certain emotion behind them, maybe he’d just gotten good at pretending. Maybe he had moved on. Deep down, you really hoped it wasn’t the second possibility, you’d never admit that though.

Maybe Katie and Angelina not catching on wasn’t the best thing. 

Sure, they were already suspicious of your true feelings about Fred. But as of now, they had no idea that anything more than sharing a bed had happened.

Angelina and Katie walked together into your shared dorm, coming back from Quidditch practice tired, Angelina falling onto her bed as Katie was next to her, leaning on the nightstand. They greeted you and you looked up from your hunched over position above your textbook, seeing the lingering smirks on both girls' faces.

“Hey, what’s with the look?” You smiled and let out a confused laugh.

“I heard that Alicia has her eyes on someone.” Angelina sang, crossing her legs lazily over each other on her bed.

“Spinnet? No way, who?” You sat up straight, excited to hear gossip.

“Freddie Weasley.” Angelina grimaced, as if it pained her to say it. There was a strange twist in your stomach. 

This was probably another quip to try and get them to prove you had feelings for Fred, they wanted to see you jealous and then use it as evidence of you liking him.

“He’s definitely been eyeing her back too.” Katie whispered, as if she’d get caught saying it at a normal volume. There was a strange twist in your stomach. You made an unbothered face, playing it off.

“Fred can have his eyes for anyone he wants, it’s none of my concern.” You shrugged. Trying to ignore the feeling of a pit growing into your stomach.

“They were all over each other today. They’ve definitely got something going on.” Angelina let out a giggle, but then it faded when she caught your excited smile falter and go away, you swallowed and looked back down at your book.

“Leanne swore she saw them kissing in the-“ Katie was cut off by Angelina’s elbow hitting her in her side, Angelina widened her eyes at her for a second. Katie got the memo.

“That’s just a rumor though. She was probably just being dramatic, you know how she can be.” Katie let out a fake cough.

“It’s fine, really, I don’t care. Plus I don’t want the image of Fred shoving his tongue down a girl's throat. Or really the image of anybody doing that.” You scoffed, closing your textbook.

You hated that you cared. That you wanted to know if there was really something going on between Fred and Alicia.

You despised that twisting feeling in your stomach when you saw them talking in the hall. The way it twisted more when Alicia grazed her hand down his arm.

You were excited when Lee invited you to a party at his house that following weekend. Knowing that Katie and Angelina were going with made you comfortable.

It felt as if all that excitement was all wiped away when you heard Alicia ask Fred:

“You’re going to Lee's party this Saturday, right?”

tell me what you thought here! <3 or ask tba to the taglist for this series!

TAGLIST: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @five-seconds-flat @nal-leo-17 @rhunew @albertdabuttler @livingdeadgirlflorette @getthefuckoutofhereidiot @merikaberika @beomibeom @sleepygirlsworld @rookiegoose @suna-rintired @imamexican @whotfskai @miaandthediamonds @tarzanathetumblingwarrior @isabellavolere @navs-bhat @df841 @siriusmarryme @ooopsiedaisy997 @residentdemonhunter @ma1dita @b4tm4nn @anonymously-ominous @mistpx @fweasleys @m1chellerak

@hornyforyourb1tch

[loving-family-poll]

2nd Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 1

Propaganda under the cut:

Vash/Knives:

Twin alien brothers whose polar opposite philosophies and approaches to violence against humans do not impede their all-encompassing love for each other. Canon limb amputation and nonconsensual impregnation attempts are merely the tip of the iceberg of their deeply troubled, deeply intimate relationship.

they are twin aliens literally made for one another. they are the only two of their kind. the mangaka wanted to have nai impregnate vash but instead settled for having nai use vash to impregnate a whole bunch of their slightly less evolved sisters. it's incest all the way down with these two

Knives crashed an entire fleet of spaceships, killing millions of people, to prevent them from hurting Vash. He plans to create a “paradise” just for the two of them, so they can be together. He murders anyone and anything who opposes him, except for Vash. He cut off Vash’s arm to save his life. He even kidnaps Vash to pry open his womb-shaped gate to another dimension to “penetrate” Vash’s alien core. Vash can’t bring himself to lift a finger against Knives and cries when he realizes they’ve become too different. When he realizes he won’t persuade Vash to join his paradise, Knives annihilates himself in front of Vash. Failtwins of all time.

two blonde boys doing what blonde boys do best: look alike. theyre twins, which is hot, and they have a complicated love-hate relationship that has risked both of their lives on multiple counts! do you love mpreg? well studio orange has you covered [SPOILERS!] in Trigun Stampede (2023 Anime) with their season finale of Knives impregnating Vash with his plant tendrils! also did we mention theyre aliens who are also plants? the incest is literally out of this world; Plantcest is the best kind of incest because not only can it include Vash and Knives, but ALL of their plant sisters! fun for the whole family for millennia to cum ;))

Luke/Leia:

They're canonical telepathic magic space twins who kiss a bunch in the movies, what more could you ask for?

The best light genuinely romantic incest to ship that can also be super hot. You think you're watching an average boy meets girl romance but then they not only swerve towards an intense and charged friendship where Luke is ready to be whatever Leia could possibly want from him (and she does take him up on that) but when they find out they are siblings they Like the type of closeness it provides them because despite being attracted to each other, they first and foremost can't help feeling like the other's missing half and they get even more in sync and devoted to each other. I find myself more attracted to their constancy than the ups and downs of the more traditional slap slap kiss romance of the alternative

[my-dear-anonym]

oooooh I love this okay okay ummmmmm

How about an excerpt from a future chapter of my current fic, Warping the Veil? Spoiler warning for those of you that follow the work! This is an excerpt where Lucanis and Zevran meet for the first time. I'm going to chop it down so it isn't too lengthy here.

There are a few different feelings that Lucanis understands. There are feelings that he doesn’t. Then there are the ones that he understands only on a fundamental level. Like the big black hole through his chest.

Lucanis is no stranger to loss. As a Crow, one has a close relationship with betrayal and death in all its dealings. To lose one’s parents. To lose Caterina. To stare into the eyes of Illario and not know who is looking back. But in each instance, Lucanis was always left with something. When it was his parents, he had Illario. When it was Illario, he had Rook.

Opposingly, a feeling Lucanis does understand is the slow creeping sensation of being stalked. Many people believe he is a paranoid man; but is it paranoia if he’s right?

‘Smells like. Antivan Leather. And. Blood.’

If Skyhold were as busy as it was a few days ago, it would be easy to assume there was someone hiding amongst the many visitors. But with the residents dwindled and Halamshiral in full swing…the fact that there are no suspicious individuals to spot makes Lucanis’ nerves slowly fray for each passing hour the prickling feeling remains. His ears twitch with every rustle of fabric or whispered conversation in the halls.

The shine of meticulously polished metal swipes right by Lucanis’ face, his honed instincts buying him just enough time to jerk out of the way. His attacker does not let that deter him, his attack effortlessly flowing into a new strike. Lucanis is forced back another step, the natural bend of his spine stops, impeded by the abnormally long dagger he has hidden along his spine.

This time, as his assassin slashes the twin blades towards his chest, metal meets metal and the clash rings through the hall. A scrape as the blades drag and push against each other. Then silence, the two assassins springing apart to decipher the next best move.

Lucanis shifts his grip on his blade, feeling Spite bolstering his reflexes and his thirst for blood as he settles into a combat ready stance.

His other attacker seems to do the opposite, idly twirling a blade in his palm and cocking his head infuriatingly. The man just screams Crow. The leathers are Antivan style, dyed in shades of blacks that fit slimly to the body, designed to offer high protection and extreme flexibility. But rather than the typical blues and purples crows tend to favor, this man has accents of gold and silver, with what Lucanis recognizes as a Grey Warden crest on one shoulder, and a seemingly Dwarven crest on the other. A dark hood is pulled over the head with a bird shaped mask—crow, it seems—covering the upper portion of the face, with a pointed beak that dips down the chin.

Why is a Crow attacking him?

Lucanis strikes a blade through the air, sharply cutting down the two daggers the other Crow tosses.

“I haven’t betrayed the family,” Lucanis calls. It’s entirely possible that Spite took off without a word to anyone, causing a misunderstanding that Lucanis had betrayed his family.

The other Crow cocks his head, balancing the tip of his dagger against his gloved fingertip. Idly, Lucanis notices the gloves aren’t of Antivan make. They look more akin to something he’s seen the Inquisitor wear. Dalish? “I have,” the other man muses. The voice is unquestionably Antivan, but the lilt of the accent isn’t of Treviso. It’s of the common districts of Antiva City. “What is such a handsome bird doing so far from home, I wonder?” they ask. “Crows haven’t been found in this part of Thedas for some ten years or so.”

“It surprises me that there is a traitor to the Crows that is not yet dead,” Lucanis responds. “Shall I remedy that for you?”

The other assassin barks a light laugh. “If you can. Many others have tried. So far, I do not like your odds. It would be best to just surrender and allow me to make it quick for you. Unless…you would like to find somewhere more private first?” The blade falls from his finger and he catches it with an easy twist of the wrist. “Our business can always be concluded after, and I have such a soft spot for handsome people.”

If there is one thing Lucanis can recognize, it’s a talent for killing. Whoever this man is, he has it. A talent that has been sharpened and honed over the course of a few decades. Just from being able to get the drop on Lucanis alone, makes him comparable to the abilities of another Talon. So, after an awkward throat clear after that…uncomfortable suggestion. Spite. Lucanis takes a step, priming, then launches himself forward. Wings spring from his back in with a blur of shadow and a purple twist of what must be the veil, propelling him forward with an unnatural speed.

Metal screeches against metal as the other assassin leaps back in surprise, meeting Lucanis’ blades with his own. Lucanis doesn’t allow the chance for a recovery, striking again and again in a flurry. The moment his toes finally touch the ground again, he uses it to push upward into a new strike in a sudden direction change.

The mask flies from the other assassin’s face and clatters to the ground. There is surprise in those gold eyes. Lucanis allows a smirk to fall across his lips as the other assassin finds room to widen the distance between them. Blond tresses spill from the fabric of the hood without the mask to tie them into place.

Lucanis flicks the small bit of blood from his blade to the floor as the other Crow wipes it from his face. The gash cuts through one side of the man’s lips, nicks through the cheek, and cuts cleanly through an eyebrow. An inch closer and Lucanis would have taken an eye. Disappointing. He will be more determined with his next attack.

The other assassin spits blood before giving Lucanis a wide grin full of red teeth stained by his bleeding lips. “I had hoped—you being so young still—that your skills would be lacking a refined edge. I should have known the Dellamortes have the skill to back up their claim to First Talon. And the wings are a nice touch. It cannot be said that the Crows lack style.”

Who is this man? Lucanis’ eyes flick over the revealed appearance—an elf with tanned skin, platinum blond hair, and a tattoo that follows the curves of his high cheekbones—trying to remember all those that have betrayed the Crows and managed to slip away. It’s a short list. Only the truly talented or lucky ever manage to do it.

“Zevran Arianai, I presume,” Lucanis says. A legend, these days.

The assassin gives a light flourish of a bow. “At your service.”

Zevran, previously of House Arianai. The reason the Crows don’t take contracts in Ferelden anymore. A bit of a rising star among the Crows ten years ago. Lucanis had only been a child of maybe ten years at the time.It was later when the assassin resurfaced again, with a new mission of killing off other Crows. And was worryingly good at it. The invasion of the Antaam seemed to be the only thing that gave Zevran pause in his crusade. He’s considered the highest of embarrassments to House Arianai, but deep down, many crows are terrified of this one particular Traitor Crow. House Arianai might be embarrassed to have raised such a traitor, but there’s also a point of pride in the knowledge that he turned out so deadly. There is no other Crow in the entirety of their history that can claim the same death count towards their own kind that Zevran “Black Shadow” Arianai currently holds. And it seems that Lucanis is the next on his list.

Zevran gestures casually toward Lucanis with a blade. “I see you went for the dark and broody route,” he notes. “It’s a classic, certainly—I much prefer a bit of wordplay in my foreplay—but you have a terrible problem. Much too awkward. Makes it difficult to charm your way into your victim’s beds, no? Confidence—” Zevran tilts his head a breadth to the right. Just enough for Lucanis’ flying dagger to miss his face, but pull down his hood in its flight path. “—is very important. Though, if you keep undressing me like this, I will rethink my opinion.”

How is one even supposed to respond to such remarks?

“Lucanis! Belongs! To Rook!” Spite snarls.

Zevran blinks. “Mierda. You’re an abomination. I knew an abomination once. A fine bird. And a marvelous bosom! Ah, those were the days. Nothing quite like serving a fine and worthy cause for absolutely nothing other than—ah who am I kidding. It was terrible. Though, there was a lot of murder. That was fun. There was also the one boy that trapped us in the fade. There were many mice involved. I do not recommend it.”

“I’m going to remove his tongue.”

“Was that you or the demon?” Zevran asks. “It was unclear.”

“You’re not going to live long enough to learn the difference.” Lucanis shifts his feet, feeling the familiar hum of Spite’s energy building in his muscles and blade. A necrotic shine emits from the blade, chasing away the soft rays of sunlight and replacing them with a haunting cast. If Lucanis had met Zevran in his twenties, Zevran might have won. But Lucanis has lived an extra decade beyond the body he has now. They are the Demon of Vyrantium.

There’s a twitch in Zevran’s face, his body language shifting to prepare for another attack.

The vicious point of Lucanis’ blade rips through the air as he propels forward with speed that no man should be able to meet. Zevran dips just slightly, twisting away from the blade. Pain erupts in Lucanis’ forearm and there’s a clatter as his weapon spins from his hand and skitters across the floor. A gritting of teeth. A shift of balance. His second blade blocks Zevran’s following strike. Again again again, the ring of blades striking echo off the stone walls of the empty hall as Zevran forces distance between Lucanis and his dropped sword and not giving him room to draw a spare hidden on his person.

Then something grabs Lucanis by the wrist and flings him back against the wall with a resounding smack. A snarl pulls from his throat, but by the time his vision clears from the unexpected impact, he sees Zevran in the exact same state on the wall across from him.

“Owww,” Zevran groans, rubbing the back of his head. “You are always so rough. Not that I mind, but I prefer such rough play for the sheets.”

Lucanis staggers to his feet, a whispering scrape as he picks up his remaining weapon from the ground. “Sit back down,” the unexpected third party tells him. The urge to walk over and slit Zevran’s throat pumps hotly through his veins. He’d follow it with a dagger in this newcomer’s throat just for spite.

He forces a breath, eyeing the man that stepped between two Crow Assassins and flung them easily into the walls. A tall man, with broad shoulders made to look broader by the spike pauldron. His skin is light, hair so darkly brown that it looks black, mirthful eyes the color of the sky, and a painted red strip suspiciously reminiscent of blood dragged over the bridge of his nose. “And who are you?” Lucanis asks.

The newcomer offers a hand to Zevran, who takes it, a large grin across his face, and pulls to his feet. “Hawke!” Zevran greets.

Helllloooooo! I know people are maybe tired/busy/unavailable today, so no pressure or anything, but I thought we could all share WIPs today?

Writing, art, whatever you want! (I’m gonna tag DA bc most people are here for that, but feel free to share no matter what you’re working on!)

I’ll post mine in a bit! Rb + add !

No pressure of course— have a great day! ☀️

[weirdo-from-bonesborough]

"the twins would be happier if Leia was sent to Tatooine and Luke got to be prince of Alderaan." No they fucking wouldn't.

Our first introduction to Luke is him trying to get out of chores to hang out with his friends, and you want him to be in charge of a planet?

Luke Skywalker, the guy who put his whole heart and soul into piloting and being a Jedi? The guy who blew up the Death Star and redeemed Darth Vader? The guy who risked his life to save a woman he hadn't met? The guy who chose a life of solitude to dedicate himself to teaching a dead religion? You think he'll enjoy discussing things in committee?

And you think Leia Organa, cut-throat, analytical Leia, would be satisfied as farmgirl Leia Skywalker?

The woman who called Tarkin smelly while being kept as a prisoner? The woman who resisted Darth Vader's torture as an adult and Reva's interrogation as a child? Who watched her home and her people destroyed and not even an hour later was arguing and insulting her rescuers? Who held a primed thermal detonator in her hand without blinking? Who strangled Jabba the Hutt with the chain he put around her neck?

You want that woman living in the same household as Owen Lars? They'd kill each other!

You want Leia Organa forced to stay home and do her chores instead of fighting the Empire? Be a farmer like Owen or a housewife like Beru? Never straying further from home than to Mos Eisley? You think she'd ever stand for that?

ffs, just cuz Luke likes fashion and Leia likes fighting doesn't mean they were put in the wrong families! Leia could have been a pilot or a Jedi, but she chose to be a rebel and a leader. Luke could have been General or a diplomat, and he chose to be a Jedi.

TL;DR: If we were to take Luke and Leia the way they are in the OT and switch their childhood circumstances, neither of them would thrive in each other's shoes.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Imagine if Jin Zixuan DID yeet his brother from another mother (🥲) down the stairs.

Meng Yao: I'm your brother. Happy birthday! 🥰

Jin Zixuan: There can only be one. YEET

I am truly sad he didn't; think of the 'No Doubles' memes that we could have had...

[meangreennunseen]

My love towards this weird wall dwelling man is always growing 💙

[thoughtfulfangirling]

The fire looked at home in her eyes, and it was true that for the rest of Yael’s life, Angela would never see it die out. Her family’s ranch was always burning in her eyes, and because it never left her vision, she never saw the flowers that grew later.

AHHH! I remember reading this! I'm so excited to read it again. Talk about evocative, powerful language! And really, one does not need to know a thing about Overwatch for this. God just go back up right now and read it if you haven't already.

Angela understood. In the way that it felt easy to let go of the sound her name had made on her parents’ lips, she imagined it must be so simple to slip into another name entirely. There was the name of who you were before, and you were after.

God, as a master of rambling, to evoke such a profound sense of experiences in so few words without losing any of the potency of that story... god it's so good!

Yael had somehow seemed to know this, and sat next to her on the bus up to the mountain, smiling as she looped a bunch of flowers she’d picked from the field, one over and around the other, until she’s made a crown, and plopped it onto Angela’s head with a grin.

OMG The call back to the flowers! She can pick them and she can mold them, and maybe perhaps, the fire hasn't drowned them out yet, but she's not admiring their beauty here. She's keeping her hands busy. She's picked them, robbed them of life. Not, I think, any sort of moral commentary on picking flowers here. Just... on their own it's not enough, but they haven't slipped entirely from her fingers yet, but they will. But perhaps it's more telling that she doesn't keep them for herself. She crowns Angela, like a prescient nod to the fact that Angela will always tend the flowers and keep the fire at bay. Light without burning up.

Angela sat, looking at her feet, wondering where they would go, looking at Yael’s hand, wondering where it would lead her, looking at the edge of the fire, envying its ability to burn. She did not burn. She had seen enough of burning, and would not embrace it.

Hehehe Angela will not burn. But god the way this is phrased just does it for me. 'wondering where it would lead her, looking at the edge of the fire' YAEL WOULD LEAD YOU TO FIRE BUT YOU WON'T KNOW HOW TO BURN

Fire warps and twists even the strongest metal sometimes, it seems. ... Yael looked at her for the first time, their bright blue eyes siblings but never twins, two halves of the same whole. ... Fire warps and twists even the strongest metal sometimes, it seems. ... Yael looked at her for the first time, their bright blue eyes siblings but never twins, two halves of the same whole. ... They sat, watching the fire crackle and pop and burn, sending bits of light out into the darkness, even knowing they would likely be extinguished, the fire still had to try. ... Everything existing had its opposite, her mother had told her, and when Angela was a woman not only by tradition, but by experience, she would come to understand that opposites were not only black and white, but the blue of a healing rain and the orange of a blazing fire.

Immaculate!

Set Fire to the Rain

@rhiorhino‘s prompt was “Tell me literally everything about Yael so here is the beginning of their lives intertwining. I hope you like it. 

Mercy’s mother had told her, that everything existing had its opposite. That light could not exist without the shadow, that the land was made real by the sea, that good could only persevere if there was the wall of evil to climb, and this was why so many things we would rather not have were present in this world.  That all these things were present in all humanity, as well.

Like many things her mother had said to her, it had not quite clicked into place until she was much older.

She had been thirteen, and did not understand these things, staring into a fire as other children who had lost just as much as she had warbled Hebrew songs off key. She looked down at the nametag on her chest, bearing a simple “Angela” and the small flags of the languages she spoke.

She’d stopped trying to correct the pronunciation of her name. It was mostly English spoken here, and she imagined it would be the same as she went into the international medical community. It didn’t matter anyway.

Keep reading

[muckablucka]

how it feels to find song lyrics that fit your OC perfectly:

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

my experience with maxing out the twins' friendship is just-

Hawke: So, Carver, my dear baby brother who I love and adore, I only need +10 more points to max out your friendship. I've done the grind; through gritted teeth I've kissed templar ass so that we don't raise suspicion. I've supported and defended you and let you take the lead whenever I could. You're my favorite warrior. I took you to the Deep Roads with me because you desperately wanted to go and then made you a warden and you found a place, a purpose. I've practically written my own guide on how to earn as much friendship with you because I love you and it's totally worth it so can I please please have the last +10...? Carver: Hawke: Carver please I'm begging you Carver: Carver: +5 Friendship Hawke: AAUUGGGHHLKSAJDLKAJSDLK-

Hawke: So, Bethany, my dear sis- Bethany: +50 Friendship Hawke: Bethany: :)

[introvert-in-hiding]

Nothing annoys me as much as my sister. At this point I'm half convinced it's physiological.

"Don't baby me"

Sure then stop acting as if I l'm your legal guardian or something

[aparticularbandit]

Today, I'm planning on finishing the last batch of WIP requests (not this week's, last week's), and then I'm looking at the prompt in my askbox.

And a Finding Family variation.

...and also maybe something else.

[writing-prompt-s]

You and your twin are opposites in this world of heroes and villains. One a villain, another a hero. You just heard one of your colleagues talk about how they killed your twin.

[medusas-graveyard]

Demon's twin au, except....

A Demon's twin au where Danny and Damian are polar opposites of each other as usual. Damian is the serious and pokey one while Danny is the laid back, carefree twin. Except, Danny is 10x more psychotic than Dami, and his demeanor is somewhat a manipulation tactic. He's still loves Dami vv much and would gladly burn the world for him while Dami is....hm. He envies Danny but in the same time very intimidated by him (read: black cat & golden retriever situation)

One day he gets killed by Damian (may it be a duel that he didn't think seriously because he thought Dami would never kill him or Dami just flat out conspiring against him is your choice) and Danny was FURIOUS at him. Instead, he swore Damian would pay the price for betraying him.

Fast forward after he got resurrected and lived as Danny, he's soften up a bit; more talking and less stabbing, basically. One thing leads to another where he leaves and ends up in Gotham (preferably because of CW) and hey, what dya know. Dami's siblings aren't that bad...

Meanwhile Batfam™ are scrambling because there's a teenager that looks like Damian wandering over Gotham. Damian is perplexed because that could be his supposedly dead brother (eye color).

Everything went wrong when Danny straight up jumped at Damian in costume, trying to kill him.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: yandere, captive reader, minor wounds, shackles, mental deterioration

♡ GN reader

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking up at you sheepishly from where he kneels before you, your feet in his lap as he carefully unclasps the second metal cuff from your ankle—leaving roughed skin in its wake, cut raw and swollen as badly as the other. “But, you know, I would have taken them off sooner if you’d been good.”

You don't answer him—not feeling like nodding and agreeing, though not exactly feeling up to doing the opposite anymore either. Tired of it, you remain quiet, and you look away instead—flinching and hissing as he carefully handles the wounds with disinfectant, balm, and bandages.

When he’s done, he rests his cheek on your knee—stroking his hands up and down your claves tenderly. “I really am sorry,” he repeats—voice soft and silken, nuzzling into you with big puppy eyes looking up at you. “You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

There’s a disturbance in your head—an indecision—toiling and swirling like a storm, making you sweat, almost shiver. Should you behave for once? Do what he wants and avoid another punishment—or do you still feel like fighting? Is your dignity worth it? Do you still wish to take the risk and run now that you’re unfettered and free to try again? Or would you like to finally give it up?

This is a test. You know it. No doubt.

He’ll surely catch you if you try. You know that, too. It’s been proven, and you’re not foolish enough to keep holding onto any such false thing as hope.

So then, why try?

Well, it’s a stupid question, and yet you find yourself contemplating it—whether you should try anyway, even when failure is guaranteed. You think, now that you're really thinking about it, the only thing keeping you going is sheer and hollow principle.

Yes, principle—one based on the understanding that if you try, even if you fail, you can at least say you tried—one where the simple thought of giving is detestable. Back then, even weighing the options was unthinkable. Do or die—no in-between, nothing more or less.

But that fire within feels faint now—a low flame just barely weathering the storm, all alone in the cold, in the dark, just waiting for a final gust to blow it out once and for all.

It's an ugly thought, but you think what you really want isn't to find the strength to keep fighting but for someone to say it's okay to stop. You just want a sanction—a blessing—someone to blow the candle out for you.

And acknowledging that, you might as well blow it out yourself.

If the point holds no value, then fighting for it must be even more empty—right?

You sigh.

“It’s not that bad." Lifting a hand, you run it smoothly through his tousled locks with a smile. “Actually, it already feels better.”

The worst or best part about it is how strangely freeing it is—now that you’ve let go. The trouble of remaining vigilant and hostile is an exhausting feat, and now that you’ve put it to rest, you’re left feeling unfettered—like you can finally breathe again.

He kisses your knee, then rests his chin atop it—giving you a similar smile. “I’m glad.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo, Naoya ♡ HQ – Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[kalims]

pop !

giving them a balloon with a confession in it and running away,

premise. out of confession ideas? sick of the pile of stupid papers crumpled up on the leg of your desk? or perhaps you're just in the 'you only live life once' mindset. since the school year is ending, why not get rid of the annoying feeling of him tingling your mind? (in the form of a balloon, you never said you were gonna stick around!)

characters. all sorted by dorm

content. mc runs away after giving it, based on a tiktok I stumbled across approximately a year ago... mentions of marriage (one sign and some were speeding through the future)

note. savanaclaws part hmmm yummy

heartslabyul

unsurprisingly, riddle gets a lot of bizarre things from students and professors alike. confessions are one thing but having one in this... circular, red, full of helium balloon is certainly a surprise. creative, he'll give them that. if anything he's just confused with it in his arms as you just sort of, shove it in his arms and run away. he recognizes you easily but once cater plucks it out of his grip and shows him the message he just turns red.

trey is the type of guy to accept whatever you give him, honestly. it doesn't matter if you give him the most random of items, he'll take it without a single word of query (unless it's really questionable.) you could hand him a bottle of mustard in class, trey'll just blink and hold onto it patiently. a pair of batteries? thanks he guesses. a red, inflated balloon? he spares you a questioning glance but you're already collecting dust with how fast you ran away so he turns it and resists a smile. clearly spotting the bold letters.

the opposite of clover, cater just doesn't take anything from you unless it piques his interest or is just a casual 'hold onto this for a few' like water or something. things bordering past unusual is what he'd hesitate to take, though less given he trusts you. sometimes he doesn't take it all together simply cause he doesn't feel like it. caters probably updated on everything so when you shove the balloon in his arms and beeline he's pulling out his phone ready to scream his ass off in his dump account. (also gotta magicam this, duh.)

will most likely just dump it on the ground without another thought. or hand it back to you. ace does not care about balloons, he might even pop it in your face. that is, if you stayed for more than a second. he feels more inclined to peer further cause you ran away so fast. you looked embarrassed, and he finds out quickly why you'd proceed to never show up to his face for the following week when he spots it. stares at it dumbly for like, a minute before taking off after you... be scared ig.

added to the top ten best moments of his life note on his phone. deuce silently highlights your name on it with the same angry, red bump on his forehead because he accidentally ran into a pole midst trying to find you around the campus. he had the same idea as ace (twins) which is finding you immediately except once he read the confession he promptly lost all his braincells in the process. so he's very excited, slash embarrassed, slash shy? and can't conjure any logic cause it's just your face.

savanaclaw

jokes on you. you think he's gonna make an effort to catch your stupid balloon? leona just watches it drop to the floor. the effort is only exerted when he's absolutely sure you've run away on your slow legs, he's not bashful—not at all. maybe that's just denial speaking though. he takes one look at the balloon, and pops it with a single dig of his nail. the stare is so brief that you'd doubt if he ever read it at all, when the evidence of your apparent love is now non-existent in the physical world, very much still lingering inside him. leona comes to the predicament that he can't seem to sleep days after.

ruggie is all too familiar with the lack of appreciation some folks hold towards cheaper material gifts. like a luxury jewel, a big, shiny lil' thing ultimately rotting in the closet of some soul cause its the 'price' that counts. he spots the words easily, discerning the black ink. not entirely formed with straight lines, the keen eyes of his spots the wriggles some hold. as though whoever wrote was nervous and he bores an impish grin. (and some back corner of his closet holds no big, pricey jewel, but the deflated balloon is worth all the more to him.)

more likely to leave it on accident. after falling victim to the annoying pranks his other first year 'friends' like to do, with him as the victim apparently. he's more suspicious of it than anything, jack does not want a face full of whipped cream once again. he stares at it like it's an alien and only goes for the initiative to take it into his hands when it rolls and showcases the very bold text, highlighted and straight to the point. jack inevitably ends up accidentally popping it due to the fear that some other person probably saw it, he did not mean to wreck it. atleast not with a messy chain of thoughts, but hey. atleast he got the message...

octavinelle

well versed in catching you in a gentle manner, if you ever slipped (he definitely did not practice.) so azul's reflexes respond quick enough to capture the red little thing with ease. he recognizes it as one of your antics, and he rarely doesn't humor them since it was harmless ones that don't really get under his skin, unlike that of the tweels... the curiosity of looking forward to whatever you had far outweighed any annoyance, and great sevens he might actually combust. ("JADE PREPARE THE LOUNGE—") <- absolutely ready to initiate the plans he had detailed through a script ages ago if this were to ever happen, with a red face. ha, ha.

either clueless, or already got an idea based entirely on the adorably stiff look on your face. jade easily puts two and two together, it's quite funny because he picks it up and doesn't spare a single look. stalking off to find you immediately, and only then does he take a peek as to whatever made the balloon special, right in front of you cause apparently he's gotta witness your raw embarrassment in the flesh?

floyd is likely not interested in the ball in the first place, he thinks you want to play catch so he runs after you with a laugh that... makes you a lot more concerned. he flings it uselessly to the face of some poor soul before he sprint after you, probably traumatizing them when they spot the 'I like you' on it, and when they realize they got it from the resident terrorist whose definition of 'I like you' is 'you're entertaining, I'm gonna keep on playing with you'. (only blinks when you tell him about it, seeing as he isn't close to releasing you anytime soon from his arms.) caught you!

scarabia

sparkles, around the sun... too bright... kalim's blinding everyone else with his obvious joy. almost immediately turns it and it's clear he saw something he really liked cause he has one of those grins, really wide, showing off his teeth and his face scrunches up to the point where you could barely spot the red irises of his eyes. his lips are wobbly too! and he thought the notion was simply too cute... (so much he just had to send it back, so you could feel what he felt too!) except it comes in a hundred times balloons inside your home.

really confused. is this supposed to be a new form of comfort in the era that he hasn't caught up with yet? jamil does nothing much to stop you from running away, yeah. that's your choice but it did strike an inkling of suspicion in him. with the way you aggressively shoved the balloon in his arms before you ran away makes him think it's contents are supposed to be for him only. seeing as you collected dust with that sprint, so he brings it home. and damn, thank god he did because seven forbid if anyone else actually saw the flicker of bashfullness in his expression, hopefully not his warming ears either.

pomefiore

you try to fool him by not rushing up to him, shoving it and then speeding away for once. but instead calmly placing it in his arms and then walking away like it might be the last time yall have a friendship haha (👀) vil sees right through you either way. dare I say he thinks the whole execution is strange, he means, you could literally just walk up to him and say the exact same thing written on the balloon and he would've loved it either way but eh, atleast you got it out!

don't walk into his room cause you will probably the very prominent place the balloon has in his room. rook surprisingly did not put it on a pedestal which is tame for his nature, but it does have a place in the corner of stuff he absolutely adores. you'd think you'd spared yourself from the embarrassment of seeing his reaction cause c'mon, that was a confession. it's nerve-wracking! but NO cause you spy him outside the window of your class and suffer a heart attack (3rd floor btw)

wherever he read that, epel's jaw drops. people would mistake him as someone who escaped from a mental asylum from the way he's gaping at a balloon like he just got told vil schoenheit got canceled on magicam for some controversy (he in fact, did not.) spends so much time staring at it, and the following where he's managed to snap out of it is spent also staring off into the distance *wedding bells ringing*

ignihyde

uuuuhhhhh... either send it to him digitally or shove it inside his room and dip?? if we're going with the latter, idia doesn't even notice until like, a day after cause he's been playing for. and it isn't even him who notices!! it's ortho!!! even if he did find it he would've ignored it, but behold, ortho, who reads the text in a hilariously flat tone. idia thought his brother was professing his love until the boy reveals it was from you. (nearly falls off the chair, then actually falls when he realizes it's been a day. imagine getting ghosted irl haha)

ortho could be the delivery boy if you're too embarrassed lmao. will help you in constructing a more poetic way with words but honestly the "YOU'RE CUTE LETS DATE" gets it done. boy probably doesn't understand why you don't wanna do it yourself, and records the entire thing, reaction of the person? forwarded to you until he leaves. but now you're suffering through wanting to watch, and not because you're too pussy to actually do it.

diasomnia

what... malleus is the equivalent of '???' like he's seen a few of these unique, forms but he never got the purpose of them. so he assumes it's like, some nice gift of human traditions question mark. so he appreciates it either way, he looks content honestly which is funny cause the terrifying wizard looks kinda silly holding that balloon like it's a child. actually you should've just gave him a blank balloon cause once he spots the confession, oh honey. are you fine with early marriage?

if you can't find lilia might as well yeet the balloon in the ceiling. chances are, he's there and he's gonna catch it. there's already a cheeky smile quirking up the ends of his lips, usually he'd have some sort of retaliation on the personal attack you inflicted on his heart but oh dear, it's strangely blank. he's humming, the round thing upside down as he rubs his chin in contemplation. everyone's just scared at the echoing giggles of the already dark hallway.

an attack? AN ATTACK! unlike lilia who knows how to use the figurative words youth joke about all the time, sebek is... hilariously serious about most things, if not so much that it strikes just a teeny tiny concern in your mind. honestly you didn't take much into account, not the fact that he might consider it as an assault or something because you're already speeding away. apparently not having gotten too far cause he catches up easily and holds you up by the back of your collar like a cat. (you'd most likely have to mention the words cause all he registered was the apparent attack, when he does check he goes redder in the face and accidentally drops you. nows your chance to run!!)

*angelic voice singing* silver, my boo boo, I mean what...? felt something soft being squeezed into his arms, he knew it was you but assumed it was a pillow so he just?? used it as a pillow?? under his head now?? most folks would be confused at the sight of the sleepy guy laying on a balloon cause, one, it might pop and startle everyone in vicinity, two, there's words scribbled on it. although cut off since his head is blocking the way, but the 'LIKE YOU' is really obvious. so he wakes up, glances at it and goes back to sleep, except he couldn't cause the balloon actually popped comically the same time he absorbed it in.

[theglamorousferal]

The Anti-Ecto Acts have been repealed.

War with an infinite army of the dead and concepts of existence has been avoided.

Damian was glad. On opposite sides of the battlefield is not where he would have wished to reunite with his twin.

She was stubborn enough to become a ghost.

To have to face her, still so small, because she never had the chance to grow would have wrecked him. To have to explain to the family why he hesitated with that once ghost would have wrecked the rest of them too.

Damian was glad the war was averted. Maybe he could ask the ambassadors for the Infinite Realms to pass along a message to his sister’s spirit? Maybe he could help her find peace?

The five ambassadors were coming to the Watch Tower today, and Damian had convinced his father to let him come. He had agreed mostly because the five appeared to be around Damian’s age. This admittance had made Bruce’s mouth form a thin line of displeasure at the thought of young adults being the party chosen to speak on behalf of an entire dimension. Damian knew the displeasure is at the thought of the responsibility thrust upon the shoulders of ones so young, not at having to face younger people on even footing.

They had zeta’d in earlier that day and Robin was making use of one of the training rooms when Batman came to get him for the meeting. He will admit to himself that he was nervous about this meeting. He wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate to ask to send a message to his sister, but he did want to at least try.

The door to the larger meeting room swished open in front of him and he took a seat to Batman’s right. He sat there trying to collect his thoughts when he felt his hair stand on end more than usual. The temperature dropped and a bright green tear in reality formed at the other end of the room.

White fingered gloves appeared at the center of the tear and seemed to pull it wider, large enough for them to fit through with their armor. They floated about two feet off the ground and stood seven feet higher than that. They cast an eerie white glow and their eyes glowed the same bright green as the edges of the tear. Another being floated from the tear, this one just as tall with bright yellow eyes and a teal glow. Another wore a helmet to prevent anyone from seeing their eyes, but they had a red glow to them as they glided in on a hoverboard, they were still nearly six foot tall. The next was shorter, with a pair of goggles that glowed an unnatural blue and had glowing circuitry with hieroglyphics running along that arms. The last entity stepped out.

Damian knew that face. He had mourned it the last ten years.

Purple eyes, a genetic anomaly, but ones he would never forget. The same dark hair as him, thoughts flowed more like Mother’s. She had gained Father’s complexion, always fit to burn if out for too long.

There was just one thing. That face never reached that age. That face never grew to be a teenager, yet alone an adult. Why was this specter wearing his sister’s face?