#weric.....
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Weric real (I am making them suffer in the google doc)
when i wrote them i always called them "ericwolf"... imagine telling me 6 months ago that ppl would be 1. writing hanahaki fanfic abt them and 2. they'd be called. Weric. insane.
#asks#opossumwithabnjo#not art stuff#wolfgang amadeus (oc)#eric smith (oc)#weric.....#me following the more Traditional ship naming convention vs 7 people thinking ``weric`` is funny
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is somebody gonna match our freak
#i’m normal about him#ok i’m not#he is me#i am him#together we are#weric#or eni??#mysterious skin#book#eric preston#my baby girl
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@vampiregeese come get your food
Wolfgang swore he was about to explode.
It was overwhelming, the emotion—whatever it was—that seemed to lump up in his throat. The emotion that showed up when he was too close to Eric. He wanted—or maybe needed, but he wasn’t sure he was using the word right—something from the blond, something he wished he knew. Whatever it was made him ache all over, he was scared that if it didn’t stop, he would die.
It lumped in his throat, it made him cough, choked him ‘half to death’—something he had heard Warren say about their uniforms—and he hated it. But he definitely didn’t hate Eric. He liked Eric, he liked Eric a lot. Probably too much, at least that’s what he thinks. No one else liked their friends as much as he liked his friend. At least, he thinks not.
Sometimes, when he hears Harrison talk about his wife, it reminds him of how he thinks of Eric. Of how he thinks—about his pretty eyes and pretty smile and pretty curls and pretty everything—it’s how he thinks before he gets that lump in his throat. How he’s thinking right now.
And he’s coughing, he’s choking on something and it hurts. He tastes something like gasoline flooding his mouth, and when he coughs again, a brown tinted black liquid spews from his mouth—blood. It’s trailing down his chin, soaking the collar of his uniform, and something is sticking to the roof of his mouth. He reaches his fingers in, feels around until a chip in his claw catches on something and he pulls it out with a grimace, only to find the red petal of a rose coated in what almost seemed like ink.
He flung it, threw it across the trench, where it hit the wall and made a dull splat, sliding down and leaving a sickening trail of oddly colored blood.
He needed to keep this a secret, or he would be sent home, and he didn’t have one to be sent to.
The rat he just found should help.
—
The flowers were becoming overwhelming, getting harder and harder for Wolfgang to force them to go away. They choked him, whenever he allowed Eric to invade his thoughts, and the trenches were suffocating in the way that they made hiding them so difficult. The way they made avoiding Eric so impossible even though seeing him forced the overwhelming emotions to his throat.
It hurt. It certainly hurt.
He was beginning to run out of rats, too. He was eating so many that he was affecting the population, but he needed to hide the way he hurt, he just needed to fix it. Desperation was clouding his thoughts, clouding his judgment. He needed to find a way to get rid of this, he had to. If he didn’t, he would have to stop talking to Eric, and he couldn’t handle that.
Wolfgang thought he might have found a word for how he felt, but it was probably wrong. It had to be. He had never felt something that needed that strong of a word.
But the emotion certainly was strong, strong enough to make him sick. Strong enough to make him scared.
And now the feeling was the only thing that he could feel, as Eric spoke to him. As he asked him about the woman he had never had, as he got close.
As they wrapped together, in what felt like the first hug Wolfgang had ever had, he choked. Literally.
He shoved Eric away as the coughing began, trying to turn away, to hide. He gripped at his shirt, clawing and scratching at his chest and neck as he coughed. Blood filled his mouth again, the sharp taste of gasoline invading his senses as his knees went weak and buckled. He gagged and choked, barely holding himself up.
He felt a heavy thud on his back and another sharp cough was ripped out of him, tearing the skin of his throat as an entire flower was forced out, still connected to the vine. He grabbed the vine, thorns digging into his hands and making him wince. He pulled, forceful and harsh in the way that he had to tear through his esophagus to get it out of his throat.
More and more blood was spilling out, and a small, weak growl escaped him in his panic. He needed something, he was so.. hungry. So hurt. He looked up, reached for a rat he saw. And was stopped, Eric pulling him into another, more shaky hug. He was mumbling something, holding him so tightly that it ached, and would likely bruise if his healing was that of a normal person’s. And he was shaking, more scared than Wolfgang had been the entire time he had been coughing these flowers.
The ache dulled, and he forced himself to calm. He never wanted to scare Eric, he would never want to.
“I am sorry” he whispered, flinching away as Eric looked up.
“What was that?” Eric whispered back, fearful tears in his eyes. “How did that happen??”
“I am.. not you..” he mumbled, looking away in shame.
“Of course you aren’t me, Wolfgang. No one can be somebody else” Eric said, looking oh, so understanding as his hand came up to pet over his cheekbone.
“No, I am not.. like you.”
Tears were threatening to fall now, the ache in his chest becoming more prominent with every passing second.
“I know you aren’t.. you’re tall, and quiet, and strong, and your hair is much, much darker than mine. We’re very different.”
He was trying to comfort him, Wolfgang could tell by his smile and how he was so close.
He couldn’t breathe, he could barely push the words past the lump in his throat.
“Eric” he choked out, holding him slightly tighter “Eric, i am wrong.”
The sadness in Eric’s eyes was too much, and as Wolfgang closed his eyes, he felt the tears roll down his cheeks. One, maybe two, and they were wiped away by the rough pads of Eric’s fingers.
“You aren’t wrong, Wolfgang… you’re just a little bit different..” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together, and Wolfgang had to force himself not to pull away in shock.
“Monster” he managed with a small cough, feeling another flower begin fighting its way up. “I am… monster”
“Never call yourself that. Please. You are anything but.”
—
Eric was so very helpful. He always had been, but especially now. He was so…
Wolfgang didn’t have a word to describe it. Eric was so perfect to him, so sweet and so willing to share his rations in order to help Wolfgang heal after bad bouts of coughing.
And they were always together, always so close it made Wolfgang’s heart feel as though it was going to fall out of his chest. It made him panic, made him shake with nervousness when they were near touching. The emotions—love, panic, happiness, warmth, all words taught to him by Eric that so perfectly described this feeling even if he didn’t want them to—they held him captive. He could hardly stand to be around Eric anymore, with the flowers, thorns, and vines clawing away at his throat and his lungs, but he couldn’t keep away either.
He needed to find a way to fix this, but there was no one to ask. There was no books he could struggle his way through to find the answers to the problems he was having. Nothing that helped him figure out how to rid himself of the flowers that so haunted him.
He was thinking about this as he laid with Eric, hidden in a tent, staring up at the ceiling. They finally had a bit of time to relax, they could finally sleep. Wolfgang could feel Eric relaxing beside him, his shoulders untensing as he subconsciously shifted closer to Wolfgang as though seeking refuge from the cold of the night.
Wolfgang couldn’t relax, however. Not with Eric as close as he was, not with him practically laid on top of him, even through their separate blankets.
“Eric?” He whispered, barely managing to not flinch as the man beside him shifted to look at him through tired eyes.
“Yeah?” Eric asked, and the familiar feeling of flowers creeping up his throat returned to Wolfgang.
“…do you think that the roses will ever stop?”
He looked at him, finally noticing the warmth in Eric’s eyes.
“I’m sure they will. If they were permanent they would have always been there.”
Eric smiled, and Wolfgang once again thought that he was dying.
“And you will help me fix them? You will help… figure them out?”
“Of course” Eric whispered, and Wolfgang felt their fingertips brush together briefly, before Eric was pulling away.
“Thank you.” Wolfgang smiled, heat rushing to his cheeks as he slowly grabbed Eric’s hand, making him snicker.
Eric’s expression morphed to mirror Wolfgang’s, and their fingers intertwined, and Wolfgang was finally able to relax.
—
Mid-battle, the coughing was starting up again. Wolfgang seemed to choke on flowers with every move that Eric made, petals clogging up his throat every time they accidentally brushed against each other. He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t even aim for black spots that threatened his vision every time that Eric got ever so slightly too close.
Choke, cough, aim, shoot. Choke, cough, aim, shoot. It felt like he was stuck on a carousel. He was truly spiraling.
It was getting so much worse, especially with Eric always touching him, seeming as though they were ‘attached at the hip’ as Michelle had said. They were always next to each other, always holding hands or helping each other to fasten their jackets. Wolfgang enjoyed it, loved it even, but he missed the feeling of breathing.
He felt like falling, his knees threatening to buckle and collapse as he lung to the wall. He was going to die out here, desperate and choking. He could feel it, could feel the bullet that suddenly cut his cheek as he was aiming, and then we was being pulled down.
He looked up, to see Eric leaned against him, a wild look in his eyes as he shot towards the other side. He seemed angry, and Wolfgang had half the mind to apologize before Eric was holding his face, checking him over for injuries that weren’t there.
And then they were hugging, Eric pressing tightly against Wolfgang’s chest in a way that squeezed what little air he had managed to get into his lungs out. But it was okay, this was Eric, and Wolfgang was content not breathing so long as he could wrap his arms around the blond.
“Are you okay?” Wolfgang asked, and Eric looked up at him as though he had grown a second head.
“Am I okay? Sugar, you were almost shot!” Eric practically yelled, holding onto him in a death grip.
Wolfgang didn’t know how to respond for a second, his face was so hot that it made his brain feel like it was melting, turning into goo that would seep from his ears and slowly melt the rest of him. The flowers, they were choking him again. He was coughing again, covering his mouth and turning away to try and hide the blood that was spewing with every cough.
Eric was gently rubbing his back again, patting it when needed like he always did, now that he knew about the flowers and how they restricted his breathing. He was so caring, so understanding, it made Wolfgang light headed.
“You are..” Wolfgang managed, before being cut off by another choked out cough. “You are perfect.” He whispered once his breath had returned, his arms wrapping tighter around Eric’s torso.
“Me? Sugar, you’re the most perfect person I think I’ve ever met…” Eric whispered back with a smile, and for that moment, the flowers calmed, and Wolfgang could breathe clearly.
—
Curled up under the stars, talking about their future, and Wolfgang can barely feel the flowers anymore. They still showed up, sometimes, but with every tender moment between him and Eric, the more they seemed to fade.
He knew that the emotion was now—Love. Something he had heard about, written about, thought about for hours and hours until he was sure. It had to be it, had to be what he felt, there was simply no other way for him to describe the emotions that Wolfgang made him feel.
“Eric? I think I have something to tell you” he said, as he felt their fingers entertained and Eric’s thumb begin to rub slow, lazy circles on his knuckles.
“What is it?” The blond asked as he looked at him, turning slightly so that he could comfortably face him. He always did, always made sure that Wolfgang knew that he had all his attention.
“I think I may love you” Wolfgang whispered, and the circles on his knuckles slowed to a stop.
“You do? Are you sure??” Eric asked, shooting forward with an almost frantic look to his eyes.
“I think that I am.” Wolfgang said, nodding slightly. He couldn’t being himself to look at Eric, couldn’t tear his eyes Fromm the stars in the sky.
“…I think that I love you too.” Eric said.
“You do?”
“Yeah.”
Wolfgang felt his chest clear up, and he took a deep, clear breath as he turned to face Eric.
“I am happy to hear that,” he whispered, tears threatening to fall from his eyes, and Eric reached up to rub the rough pads of his fingertips gainst Wolfgang’s cheekbones.
“Not as happy as I am” Eric said, leaning forward until their lips pressed together.
—
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Revi, my cleric/wizard multiclass! my weric, if you will
#dnd#ttrpg community#artists on tumblr#art#dnd artist#dnd oc#original character#ttrpg oc#ttrpg character#tiefling#dnd art#sabas art
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me writing weric fic
When you’re writing with no plan and suddenly the plot takes a turn:
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[2021 Nov. 3] - Drew the Werewolf mascot (named Weric) of the Backseat Drawing art server in my own style (he's usually a lot more friendly looking haha)
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halloween weric in honor of "Weric" winning the poll. I hate all of u
#fisherman's art#non-canon art#wolfgang amadeus (oc)#eric smith (oc)#forever defaulting to the jerma vampire outfit every time i have to draw a vampire#also! uncropped wolfgang ears reveal.#weric
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b4 you go “it’s not that deep” I promise it is that deep
am I talking abt this movie bullshit or Weric? both
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Tio weric, lavarapido era tenso é corrido. https://www.instagram.com/p/BuLwST0lMrK/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=z2u5bzm10une
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Vereador diz que PMJP confessou desvio na Lagoa e rombo aumentou para mais de R$ 12 milhões
Vereador diz que PMJP confessou desvio na Lagoa e rombo aumentou para mais de R$ 12 milhões
Imagem: Bruno / Marcos Weric
O vereador Bruno Farias (PPS) voltou a comentar o escândalo da Lagoa, as vésperas da operação Irerês completar um ano. Para ele, o fato de a prefeitura de João Pessoa ter procurado a Justiça para evitar ter o nome negativado por não ressarcir o dinheiro, é uma confissão do desvio. Ele lembrou que, segundo a Polícia Federal e a Controladoria Geral da União, o dinheiro…
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COMPOSITIONAL AESTHETICS
Module AG1001 Visual Communication
NEW PROJECT! Sketch for book three (start at the end as always…. ) of three…. For 30 images, under ten headings…. In three books of 3… Ten drawings each for 3 books. 333.333333333 drawings in total. In 70 books on three pages. PIE.
These images are under the heading of “Process, mark making and imagination”.
The worm character “Weric” (named after our worms in our wormery) is someone I have been doodling for a while and wanted to explore how to vary the effects using digital manipulation.
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after this u all have to promise to STICK WITH IT. this is THE eric/wolfgang ship name poll. it is law. i will start tagging the ship art i draw of them with the winning name
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so sorry to the person who put weric fanfic in my askbox. I want to keep it forever actually so it's staying in my askbox. mine. mine.
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[Also here's the Weric fanfic NO. 4 i think?]
Wolfgang leans into Eric as he places him sat down on the bed, his tail is wagging.
They make and hold eye contact with eachotger while Wolfgang places his hand on Eric's chest, not to feel his lack of a heart beat but to push him into the bed.
Eric sighs as Wolfgang is a bit heavy.
Eric lays still allowing Wolfgang's hands drift
[More so to give him a sense of control within this situation]
Wolfgang looks at Eric with approval as he moves his hands towards the buttons of Eric's waist coat.
“Go ahead,” Eric says calmly, still maintaining eye contact with Wolfgang.
Wolfgang continues to unbutton Eric's waist coat and moves on to his cream coloured lace up shirt underneath. Wolfgang gently removes the layers of clothing covering Eric's pale, bloodless skin.
Wolfgang pauses for a bit and stares at Eric's bare chest and then lays down beside him.
Wolfgang lets out a low sigh while he and Eric stare at the ceiling.
“Sugar, are alright” Eric turns over and grabs Wolfgang's hand.
“Yes, I think I am done.” Wolfgang replies as he tightens his grip on Eric's hand and faces him.
funny coincidence! this [kinda] happens canonically, except the roles are reversed!
#down to the hand squeeze... except in canon it's a bit more emotional. woof woof panics a bit [a lot].#asks#eric smith (oc)#wolfgang amadeus (oc)#i've refrained from talking abt this scene since it's Quite. ahem. Raunchy-er than i prefer to keep my public written/drawn work#but it does happen. i've had it planned out for a hot minute. esp if you count Before I Revamped It around a month ago#aaaannddd that's all the info y'all are getting about the scene unless i decide to write an Eric POV prequel in a few years.
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