Hello π, welcome to my small part of this vast deep blue ocean that is Tumblr. I am an occasional fanfic writer and keen artist. I write when my traitor of a brain lets me, so chaos ensues. You can call me H.
My fandoms are (ahem): HTTYD, Harry Potter, Artemis Fowl, Teen Wolf, Grishaverse (books bc i havenβt seen the show), TGM, Percy Jackson + any other Rick stories, Shatter Me, TMR (books and films), Divergent (books and films), Marvel, KPDH, Doctor Who, Inheritance games, ROTG.
You will not find smut here (badly written fluff and angst yes) so if your looking for that please move on. The reason being that i do not feel comfortable writing it.
This blog is a safe space for everyone, bullying and hate will not be tolerated, you will be blocked and removed.
Currently not taking requests because my head would explode. But feel free to ask me questions about my writing or thoughts on anything.
Please do not repost any of my work as yours as a lot of hard work goes into writing and finishing them. Thank you Hxx.
Iβm currently writing for Teen wolf, Grishaverse and Top gun maverick (mostly in my drafts).
Right, This goes out to all the supernatural fans. I have a questions for yβall.
(So I kinda vaguely know what happens in the show just never watched it)
Im fairly sure the angels can cry but im gonna ask anyway, so can angels cry?
If so, are their tears salty and would the tears have like special powers bc they came from an angel?
Because if they are then couldnβt they douse demons/whatever affected by salt (I think itβs ghosts) in angel tears? Like especially demons, would it be more/less effective than holy water?
Yeh so thatβs all my questions, if anyone want to answer them please do bc I wanna know now. (This is what my brain cooked up at like 10 last night). Also if this was revealed or discussed in the show please tell me what happened, as I said before I havenβt watched the show and Im just curious. Hxx
Yβall imma just put this with three images, this only started bc I forgot to bring paintbrushes when I went away. So I had paint but no brushes so I decided to use my pens instead. And these were the result.
The fish is my least favourite bc I think I should have left a bit of white space on his face to make it look more 3D like on the fins. The skeleton is definitely my favourite.
Please do not repost/claim as yours, my artwork takes takes time and effort. Thanx Hxx.
Hi guys, been a while since I posted smth so hereβs Varang. Idk about the eyes but I like the headpiece. I might paint it at a later date but who knows. As u can see I gave up on the hands lol
Please do not repost/claim as yours, my artwork takes time and effort to make. Thanx Hxx
Hi yβall, havent posted in a while lol, life kinda got in the wayyy. But here is a little art creation Iβd like to show u. Truly nothing better than being hugged by someone you love (in my opinion).
As always please do not copy/repost as your own work, my art takes time and effort to make. Thanks H xx.
Hellooo how are you doing? So u watched nysm (finally after seeing sooo many clips of YouTube) and was wondering if you could write a Jack wilder x gf!reader sicfic? Like shes part of the horsemen. Maybe she has like flu so is really dizzy and pushes through a show but then collapses at the end but the audience think itβs part of the show? And they like panic kinda hurriedly end? Like super fluffy and panicky Jack? Um hope thats okay xx
'Backstage Sick Days' - Jack Wilder x Reader
masterlist
Your life as a Horseman is pretty magical. Anyone could see that, judging from the displays of tricks and talent you perform on stage to the incredible moments youβve witnessed as a member of one of the most famous groups on this planet. Most of the time, you think so too, even with the wool pulled from over your eyes from seeing the real secrets of how the Horsemenβs shows happen every night. Still, nothing has made you a bitter realist until tonight, because tonight, youβre sick, and now itβs so much harder to believe in the spirit of magical whimsy like the audience waiting for you.
Not for the first time tonight, your boyfriend shoots you a nervous glance. βAre you sure youβre okay to be performing? Really, it would be okay if you stayed back to rest.β
You give him a strained smile. βIβm fine, Jack. Honestly.β
Youβre not being honest, and youβre certainly not fine. Jack Wilder can tell that, which is why your words donβt do a thing to reduce his nervous energy as he hovers around you, alternating between bringing you water to drink and asking with increasing concern if you could just go lie down. Sure, you probably should follow Jackβs wishes and take tonight off to recover from your illness, but what the two of you both know is that thereβs an expectation for each one of the Horsemenβs wild performances, and that is quality. If one of you drops out last minute, the group wonβt be able to perform all of their tricks according to plan, and after all the time youβve spent in rehearsals and late-night planning sessions, that feels like a complete waste.
Thatβs what youβd told the others, at least. You donβt know where you picked up this sickness, maybe in an airport traveling from one exciting location to another on the course of your time with the Horsemen, but itβs certainly hitting you hard. Black spots appear in your vision whenever you blink, and the world swims dizzyingly if you stand up too quickly. Luckily, todayβs performance doesnβt require you to do much but walk around a bit on the stage, deliver a few key lines, and then clap excitedly as miracles are performed. Youβve already worked with the others to scale back what you need to do, but even still, you canβt just leave them hanging.
The other Horsemen offered you the chance to cancel, but you assured them you would be able to push through and they accepted it. Jack, on the other hand, gets more nervous by the hour, to the point where heβs shaking more than you are.
βI just donβt know about this,β he says presently. βI mean, we donβt really need all five on stage at one point. We can pull you out for a grand reveal and keep you offstage for most of it so you can rest. The audience would probably dig that, anyway. Everyone loves a twist.β
βI said Iβd work, so Iβm going to,β you assure him. βBesides, itβs just one night. What could go wrong?β
Jackβs face twists as he thinks. βYou could die.β
Across the room, Merritt breaks in. βNot sure thatβs helping her concentrate.β
Jack casts an affronted glance Merrittβs way. βWell, I donβt see you helping out, either.β
Merritt looks appalled. βIβll have you know Iβm very helpful. I even offered her some cold medication.β
You snort in spite of yourself, remembering this. βThat was just tequila.β
βExactly,β Merritt affirms, satisfied as ever. βIf that wonβt clear up the airways, nothing will.β
You laugh, but break into a coughing fit when your throat tightens unexpectedly. Jack rushes to grab you yet another glass of water, which you drink as soon as you stop choking. He looks around the room desperately, as if begging for someone to step in and heal you. βSee? She canβt go on tonight. It wonβt end well.β
Danny shrugs, only half listening due to his perusal of the groupβs performance notes for that evening. βY/N said she wants to perform, so she performs. Itβs up to her.β
Jack turns to you beseechingly, but you just nod at Danny. βIβll be alright. The show must go on, right?β
Merritt flashes you a broad grin. βSee, thatβs the spirit!β
You try to smile back at him, but it takes far more effort than it should. Youβve been performing with the Horsemen for a while now, this whole business is nothing new, but even now you can tell that this night is going to be a long one. You can dish out all the magic you like as one of five international superstars, but thereβs nothing to save you from the common cold. Youβve been doing this for quite a while, but no amount of expertise can stop you from feeling absolutely terrible.
Still, youβve made a promise to your friends, and you donβt intend to let them down today. So, after allowing yourself a few last minutes of groveling, you drag yourself up to get ready for the show. Once in your costume for the evening, having made yourself look as healthy as possible, you join the others in last minute rehearsals before making your way to your position backstage for the show to start. Even behind the scenes, you can hear the roar of the crowd as your names are announced, which brings a smile to your face. No matter how many times you do this, no matter how sick you are, thereβs something special about the fame and glory of being a Horseman.
Thatβs why youβre here, after all, fighting sickness and exhaustion and everything else. You could be having the worst night of your life, and frankly, given your fever, you are, but once you take in the sea of faces giddy at the thought of witnessing your craft, everything else fades away. You were made for the stage. You were made for this spectacle. Thereβs nothing else like it, and there never will be.
You shoot an encouraging smile at Jack, whoβs grinning just as widely as you are. βHere we go,β he mouths, and then your platforms are rising up to the stage and the lights are on you.
For a moment, the sounds of the crowd, the music, everything, it all fades away. Youβre left in a silent world of lights and happy faces and shining stages. People would give their whole lives to see a show like this, and you get to perform it every night. How lucky are you?
A second later, the reality of the moment comes crashing back down around you, and the noise of the crowd engulfs you in a wave. Itβs almost deafening, making you glad for your earpieces to soften some of the sound. You wave to the crowd, who cheers loudly. The Horsemen introduce themselves, and then itβs off to the races. Every show requires careful timing, a deliberate routine offering little chance for error. Even in your state, you cannot afford to mess around.
For the first few displays of magical prowess, youβre so caught up in adrenaline that you think you can pull through. However, once the first major beats of the show are performed to raucous applause, the pace of the show switches from wild, fast-paced tricks to slower crowd work. Itβs a traditional part of a Horsemen performance, where a few audience members are singled out seemingly at random, invited on stage, and hypnotized or tricked into thinking their minds or bank accounts have been read. It always goes over well, but it does force you to slow down, and all of a sudden you remember just how awful youβve been feeling with nothing to distract you from it.
Your face feels hot, the back of your neck doused in sweat even though youβve just been standing still and pointing when the moment requires it. Youβre pretty sure the stage isnβt supposed to be tilted right now, but you swear the ground feels unsteady under your feet, rolling and pitching like the deck of a sinking ship. Spots keep appearing in your vision, but the confetti cannons arenβt supposed to go off for another few minutes at least.
You stumble a bit, but manage to catch yourself in time, earning you a concerned look from Jack. You shake your head discreetly, mouthing βIβm fineβ to stave off any of his attempts to come over. Itβs the middle of a show, you canβt afford to throw off the pacing. Jack clearly wants to break protocol and check on you, but heβs needed next to Merritt to help hypnotize a few guests, leaving you alone in your corner of the stage.Β
You try to straighten up and muscle through to the next trick of the show, but your mind feels so foggy and you just canβt remember what youβre supposed to do next. Is this the part where you head stage left and usher on a banker who had been siphoning funds from his charity, or has that already happened? No, it must have, the bank is there next to Danny looking nervous. You canβt remember bringing him on stage, but it must have happened. Maybe you need to get someone else. Should you go hover near somebody and assume theyβll direct you?
Itβs too late for any of that. Before you can make up your mind, your vision swims sickeningly. It all happens so fast, youβre hardly aware anything has happened, and then youβre not looking out at the crowd but staring up at the ceiling. The impact of falling doesnβt register, and the last thing you see before your eyes close is Jack hurrying over to you, face twisted with horror. Then, your vision goes black, and you canβt see him at all.
You wake up slowly, in a daze. Your head feels muddy, and you drift in and out of dozing for a bit before your dots connect and you feel more awake. Sitting up slowly, you realize youβre on a couch backstage. Someone must have brought you here after the show, and carefully tucked a blanket around you to keep you warm.
The show. The memory comes back to you in a jolt; the way youβd felt dizzier and dizzier before finally collapsing. You wince at the recollection, a hand rising to rub at your head, which aches dully where you must have hit it when you fell.
A voice nearby makes you startle. βOh, thank goodness, youβre awake.β
You look up to see Jack hurrying towards you, carrying a mug of something. βItβs tea,β he explains. βGot it off the cafe people.β He eyes you worriedly. βHow are you feeling? You scared us all pretty bad, falling like that.β
You shake your head slowly, taking a sip of the tea Jack gives you. Itβs warm and slightly sweet. βIβm sorry for messing up the show, I didnβt mean to pass out like that.β
Jack shakes his head hurriedly. βNo, Y/N, none of us are mad, I promise. Not even Danny. We all just want to make sure youβre alright. Me especially. The show was fine too, we played it off as another stage trick. I donβt think anyone in the audience suspected a thing. My only worry is if youβre okay.β
He squeezes your hand and you smile. βIβm going to be alright,β you say, βHonest. I feel better now than I did before. Maybe I just needed to rest a bit.β
Jack nods, but he doesnβt look convinced. βSleep as long as you like, weβve got plenty of time.β His voice drops a little in volume as he leans closer to you. βThat was the worst feeling in my life, I think. Watching you fall, knowing that I didnβt figure out in time to save you. If you were really hurt, Iβd never forgive myself.β
You smile at him encouragingly. βItβs not your fault, Jack, really. Iβm okay. And youβve been taking very good care of me this whole time.β
βYou deserve better,β he mumbles.
βI donβt want better,β you correct him quietly. βI just want you.β
He smiles at that, focusing on carefully tucking in the edges of the blanket around you again. βYouβll have me. As long as you want.β
You want him for a very long time, you want to tell him. Maybe even forever. However, the lure of sleep pulls at you again, and you have just enough time to feel the sensation of Jackβs lips on your forehead before your eyes close again. When you wake up, you can be your magical self again, and see the wonders of the world with your beloved boyfriend at your side. For now, though, youβre content to sleep, and let your dreams tell you stories of a love like this one.
requested by @lethalvigilantehurricane, i hope you enjoy!
Hi yβall, havent posted in a while lol, life kinda got in the wayyy. But here is a little art creation Iβd like to show u. Truly nothing better than being hugged by someone you love (in my opinion).
As always please do not copy/repost as your own work, my art takes time and effort to make. Thanks H xx.
HI HELLO HIβmy blog is turning ONE YEAR OLD which means wendichester is officially a toddler. Itβs walking. Itβs screaming. Itβs probably sticky. Iβm emotional. Someone hold me.
We need birthday candles, confetti, balloonsβ
β ..π¬ '. α΄ α΄α΄Ι΄
Pie.
β ..π¬ '. ΚΙͺα΄
No, Dean, not pieβ
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Pie. If itβs a celebration there should be pie. This is basic humanity.
β ..π¬ '. κ±α΄α΄
Anywayβ
What Livie is trying to say is that this blog hit its first birthday, and we kind of canβt believe how much has happened. Like, normal people start a blog and post once a week.
β ..π¬ '. ΚΙͺα΄
* glances at the camera like she's on The Office *
Yeah. I posted daily. Sometimes twice. For a year straight.
Iβm not saying Iβm unhinged, butβ¦ I mean, the evidence is right there.
β ..π¬ '. α΄ α΄α΄Ι΄
You dragged us through everything. EVERYTHING.
Iβve been stabbed, kissed, trapped, loved, cursed, made soft, made feralβ
I had children in some drabbles, Livie.
β ..π¬ '. ΚΙͺα΄
And you were beautiful.
β ..π¬ '. α΄ α΄α΄Ι΄
Kid, I spent a year being thrown off cliffs, stabbed, resurrected, emotionally compromised, or forced to make out with your readers. I need hazard pay.
β ..π¬ '. κ±α΄α΄
Dean, she literally writes all of thatβ
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EXACTLY. Sheβs HR, Sam. Sheβs HR AND the problem.
β ..π¬ '. ΚΙͺα΄
ANYWAYβI want to say thank you.
To you:
<π .α You reading this while pretending youβre not procrastinating.
<π .α You sending me requests like βlol hope this isnβt too crazyβ and then dropping biblical-level trauma prompts.
<π .α You reblogging with tags that make me scream into a pillow.
<π .α You lurking quietly in the shadows.
<π .α You who messages me.
<π .α You who follows.
<π .α You who reads everything I vomit into existence at 3AM.
Thank you.
For the love.
For the support.
For letting me write my heart out every night and knowing someone out there cares.
β ..π¬ '. α΄ α΄α΄Ι΄
Also⦠some of you people?
The way you request stuff?
I read those asks and just go βdamn, yβall are bold.β
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Dean.
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What? You think I didnβt see the smut ones?
I am traumatized.
Emotionally.
Spiritually.
β ..π¬ '. ΚΙͺα΄
Youβre welcome.
β ..π¬ '. κ±α΄α΄
* trying to be the adult for once *
Lookβwhat weβre trying to say is: you guys showed up. Consistently. You cheered Livie on when she was exhausted, you supported her on good days and bad days, and somehow, together, this whole wild little fandom corner became a family.
A loud one.
A slightly feral one.
But a family.
β ..π¬ '. ΚΙͺα΄
And genuinely⦠thank you.
Iβve grown so much because of you all.
You made me brave. You made me consistent. You made me smile when I was having the shittiest of days.
This blog changed my life. And you were a part of that.
β ..π¬ '. α΄ α΄α΄Ι΄
* raises beer *
Hereβs to another year of chaos. May it be worse.
β ..π¬ '. κ±α΄α΄
He means βbetter.β
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No. I said what I said.
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Zip it, gremlins⦠because: I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT.
I finally made an Instagram account so I can overshare on more than one app!!
β¨ wendichester.blog β¨
Iβll be posting WIPs, fic updates, sneak peeks, behind-the-scenes nonsense, probably crying occasionallyβ¦ the usual.
If you want to keep up with the circus, come join me.
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Translation: she wants to haunt your feed now too.
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Translation of that: she loves you guys and wants another way to connect.
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SOβHereβs to you.
For every like, reblog, scream, whisper, tag, keysmash, request, compliment, threat, feral meltdownβthank you.
You made year one unforgettable.
Now letβs make year two absolutely ridiculous.
β ..π¬ '. κ±α΄α΄
Happy one-year anniversary, wendichester.
Hereβs to the next twelve months.
β ..π¬ '. α΄ α΄α΄Ι΄
And hereβs to the readers. You beautiful disasters.
I am a PASSIONATE commenter on fanfiction, but sometimes it slows down my reading because I don't want to read if I don't have the mental energy to leave the long comments I want to
Still, as an author, I know even a short note can mean the world.
So, I put together a little guide with different βlevelsβ of comments, so itβs easier to leave something without overthinking!
Hopefully this helps someone else too!
Welcome home... @lethalvigilantehurricane - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
