The Maddest Of All

obsessing over some stuff

[soulsighs]

aesthetic themed ask list

flower crown: when did you last sing to yourself?

fairy lights: if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know?

daisies: what is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

1975: what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise?

matte: if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?

black nail polish: do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things?

pantone: describe a person close to your life in detail.

moodboard: do you feel you had a happy childhood?

stars: when did you last cry in front of another person?

plants: pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them.

converse: would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them?

lace: when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?

handwriting: if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom?

cactus: what is your opinion on brown eyes?

sunrise: pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally.

oil paints: what would you title the autobiography of your life so far?

overalls: what would you do with one billion dollars?

combat boots: are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way?

winged eyeliner: write a hundred word letter to your twelve year old self.

pastel: would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel?

tattoos: how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain.

piercings: do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not?

bands: talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way.

messy bun: the world is listening. pick one sentence you would tell them.

cry baby: list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel.

grunge: who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say?

space: do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised?

white bed sheets: what is your night time routine?

old books: what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know?

beaches: if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why?

eyes: pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do?

11:11: name three wishes and why you wish for them.

painting: what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up.

lightning: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high?

thunder: what’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars?

storms: you on only listen to one song for the rest of your life, or only see one person for the rest of your life. which and why?

love: have you ever fallen in love? describe what it feels like to realise you’re in love.

clouds: if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair?

coffee: what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone?

marble: what is the most important thing to you in your life right now?

fin.

[whatshxrname-deactivated2023062]

if i had a nickel for every time pedro pascal was a reluctant dad to a small feisty child i’d have two nickels. which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it’s happened twice.

[trashcora]

Pedro Pascal as JOEL MILLER HBO’s The Last of Us (2023) — Teaser Trailer

[ragingstillness]

Watching RE7 playthroughs and suddenly got a vision of Ethan not as a BSAA agent but as like a guest lecturer or smtg.

Chris asks Ethan comes in to speak to a class. All the BSAA agents in training are real confused. Ethan comes in looking like a wholeass dad. He’s wearing a pair of square tortoiseshell glasses, a creased button down that he’s tucked tight into khaki shorts with a ton of pockets. He’s carrying a brown briefcase that has seen better days and doesn’t match the brown of his shorts AT ALL.

He kind of stumbles up to the podium. He sets the briefcase down in front of him but doesn’t open it. He leans his hands on the lectern and rocks back and forth on his heels a little. Chris, in the corner of the room, gets a few concerned glances.

Ethan ruffles his hair and pushes his glasses back up his nose. He sniffs. “Alright the first rule to dealing with a situation involving a BOW is to find a weapon—“

He’s interrupted by a student in the front row who says, “Um who are you?”

Another one cuts in. “Yeah why should we listen to you?”

Ethan starts like he’s just remembered he left the stove on. “Sorry sorry I didn’t even introduce myself.” He smiles at them all. “Hi my name is Ethan Winters, I’m a bioweapon—“

Everyone in the class pulls out a gun and one person actually shoots Ethan, hitting him where his heart would be. The class gasps.

“Fuck!” Ethan shouts. Then his shoulder sort of ripples, and kind of spits the bullet out into Ethan’s waiting hand. He looks sheepishly at them all. “Sorry for swearing, that spot’s just been a little tender since Miranda ripped my heart out.”

He couldn’t mean Mother Miranda could he? Rumored to be the true progenitor of all bioweapons? Who enslaved a whole village for over a hundred years? He’s talking about her like she’s his next door neighbor Miranda.

“Oh and Chris knows I’m a bioweapon it’s ok he’s still fine with me being here.” Chris nods his agreement. “Because you see, I’m a rather rare transformed bioweapon. As in, I used to be just as human as all of you, but I came into contact with high concentrations of contaminated material and ended up forcibly changed into a bioweapon by some other BOWs I was fighting.”

The room has gone silent. Everyone’s eyes are wide. They’ve sat back down and stowed their weapons but can’t bring themselves to do anything else but gape at this man.

“Ok so, let’s try something different. How many of you have heard of the Dulvey incident?”

Tons of hands go up. “Ok great, good. So that was me. How about the Romania incident?”

A few shaky hands go up. “Yeah I figured it wouldn’t really be public knowledge but that one was me too. I mean, I’m saying it was me but I don’t mean that I like started the outbreak or caused all the damage.”

Chris lets out an amused questioning noise. Ethan’s head whips around to look at him. “Shut up Chris.”

That, more than anything, convinces the students that this guy is the REAL DEAL.

The lecture goes great, even if some of Ethan’s advice is rather specific. “And if you ever find yourself facing a shadow puzzle, make sure you remember the perspective, some objects will only fit the pattern if you turn them to match the size of the other items around them.”

Or is frankly not recommended. “Wait until right after she’s passed you then run like hell through the door she just exited.”

Or sounds like something only a completely insane person would do. “So she told me I’d never see my daughter again so I flipped her off and said ‘just like you’ll never see yours bitch.’ I thought it was really clever in the moment.”

But overall, they learn a lot, and when their regular lecturer comes back they all start begging him to take another vacation so Ethan can come and teach again. Ethan himself is confused but happy, Chris has never laughed so hard in his life.

[highlifeboat]

Anyway, Mia Winters is actually and amazing character who deserves better and would have been a great protag for RE8 if CapCom gave her a chance.

In this essay I will--

[pukicho]

Doctor: $140,000 a year

Furry artist on Patreon: $160,000 a year

[trilllizard666]

i think you’re lowballing the furry art amount tbh

[pukicho]

I’m sorry for the inaccuracies, Doctor Yiff

[trilllizard666]

no matter how I respond to this I don’t look good, well played. i walked right into that

[boobachu]

Well, furry artists are typically more competent and courteous than your average doctor, so I can see that.

[pukicho]

Did you just legitimately tell me that a person who draws wolf ass is more competent than a dude who spent 8+ years in a university to give you your lung transplant?

[hieronymus-botch]

doctors are bullshit and furry artists perform an infinitely more valuable service to society compared to them

[pukicho]

You will die in 7 days

[hokuto-ju-no-ken]

It took doctor’s like 10 years to diagnose what was wrong with me, some insisting I was faking for attention while a furry artist I knew just went “that sounds like crohn’s” after hearing me complain once and ended up being right

Also I can’t go to a doctor and ask them to draw Rouge the Bat wider than she is tall with tits to match, now can I

[kolbye]

You could if you weren’t a fucking coward

[cardinalcringe]

I think you may also be underestimating the overlap between doctors and furries.

[madastowa]

IT’S ON MY DASH IT’S ON MY DASH THE ORIGINAL IS ON MY DASH

[pukicho]

Who the fuck is kung pow penis guy

[captainsaltypear]

this is it, this is the entire invincible II crew

[sodamnradd]

Their seed is the only one that doesn’t grow.

Across the greenhouse, a holographic leaf adorns Luna and Theodore’s seedling. Beside them, Neville and Pansy’s slow-bloomer transformed overnight, bursting with vanilla-scented flowers.  

Draco and Hermione’s terracotta pot has… soil.  

“You over-watered it,” grumbles Draco, knuckle-deep in dirt. “I’ll do it from now on.”

“It’ll freeze in the dungeons.” She casts a diagnosis spell. “The water levels are perfect.”

“Your spell must be wrong.” 

Luna passes by holding fertilizing potion. “They sense your aura. Try being nice to each other.”

-

Five half-hearted compliments, three reluctant study sessions, and (nearly) zero arguments later, a sprout appears. Ripe green. Fragile. Useless.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Pansy hops onto their table. “You need to shag.”

“It’s a school project,” says Hermione. 

At his station, Neville’s clipping flowers for Luna, who’s weaving them into a crown. Pansy blows him a kiss and his face splits into a huge smile. Another flower blooms. “Worked for us.” 

-

That afternoon, Hermione finds Draco at the library. “We should try it.”

His brow lifts. “Pardon?”

“Not shagging,” she revokes quickly, setting the pot down and sitting across from him. “But…” She takes his hand shyly. “Maybe this?”

Draco swallows hard, looking hopelessly lost. Mortified, Hermione begins to retreat when his fingers close around hers.

They sit this way until dinner. 

‘Slytherdor’, proudly named by Draco, grows its first leaf.

-

At the Yule Ball, they dance together. Twice. Draco accidentally calls her beautiful. 

Mature leaves are silver-veined.

-

After holidays, Slytherdor’s droopy and yellow.  

“He’s practically dead!” Draco clutches the pot protectively. 

Hermione’s devastated. “I don’t know what happened.”

He plucks a crisp leaf, muttering, “can’t trust anybody,” under his breath. 

-

The week they give each other the cold shoulder, Slytherdor shrivels until nothing’s left but a parched stem, holding on for dear life. For the sake of their grade, Hermione apologizes. 

Draco feigns interest in extracting dirt from his fingernails. 

“I missed you, alright?” she blurts out. “Maybe it knew.”

Grey irises thaw like spring dew. 

Slytherdor becomes green again.

-

“How often do they shag?” asks Hermione bitterly, watching Neville upgrade his pot for a twenty-four-inch.

Draco snorts, misting their flowerless stalk tenderly. “Slytherdor’s coming along.”

She disagrees, burning with determination. “School’s nearly over.” Before he can reply, she grabs him by the shirt.

Their first bud smells like Draco: spearmint, teakwood. Tightly furled petals delicate as Hermione’s honey-warm lips.

-

Unlike Pansy’s fertile monster, Slytherdor pushes a single flower. 

They snog in secret alcoves, spend sleepless nights exchanging stories of home. Petals sharpen like dragon talons the first time Draco whispers, “Hermione,” like a prayer. 

-

“Don’t get up,” he hums against the curve of her neck, dawn gleaming against his platinum hair. 

Breakfast is over when Hermione remembers, “it’s the last day of Herbology!” and frantically untangles herself from Draco’s relentless grip.

In class, a crowd’s gathered around their station. Pansy coughs “finally,” as they pass through.

Slytherdor’s larger than Hagrid’s head, petals dappled gold like starlight. Rapturous in full bloom. 

(500 words, A Flower Blooms In Hogwarts, written for week 6 of LDWS, came 1st place)

[jaxxartbox]

Spooky season! Demon!AU dramione >:)

[pacific-rimbaud]

hello!! i am a huge fan of your dramione work and would just like to pick your brain about what exactly attracted you to the pairing? i have been a dramione fan for years but was curious to know as a writer, what makes it such a compelling story to tell. thank you!!

There are wildly different ways to take Draco and Hermione in terms of characterization that are totally supported by canon. I really love a Draco that's already done his work, and is humbled, awakened, and remorseful. He's intelligent, sophisticated, and also massively spoiled and petty and will always have to bite back some jealous and possessive instincts. He's a massive smartass. I see him as someone with a relatively cool head, and also a big, raw, fragile heart. His main love language is physical affection, but grew up receiving gifts instead. He's a hopeless romantic who falls in love very intensely and stays loyal to that person.

Hermione I see as an emotionally intelligent person (she can identify and discuss her feelings and has regard for others) but would really like feelings to be more obedient and subject to reason than they are. She's brilliant and driven, canonically compassionate and emotionally expressive, has a hot temper, can be incredibly patronizing, devalues interests she doesn't share and sometimes struggles to read the room.

Between the two of them, I see this lively, sparking battle of wits, the pleasing way their flaws compliment one another, shared passions, a sense of: I will never feel bored of or with this person. This person is never going to give me one (1) minute of peace. They cannot keep their hands off each other. They're Beatrice and Benedick, with a heaping portion of Howl and Sophie, and a dash of Spike and Buffy for extra spice.

Also when you write them this way, they will. not. stop. talking. I think pretty much everyone who's done this kind of Hermaco take on the ship will back this up. It's pretty hilarious.

Thanks so much for the ask!

[marisatomay]

can’t wait for spotify wrapped to tell me that i’ve listened to the same three songs all year but in a fun powerpoint graphics kind of way

[cupcakesandtv]

Absolutely a sucker for the “ARE YOU HURT” once over. The wandering hands, frantically checking for blood or pain just SOMETHING. ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED of what they might find while searching. The panicked look on the face of the person doing the checking, the glossy, confused “I’m fine” from the person being checked. HOO BOY just inject that shit right into my veins

[enselius]

“Hermione Granger, I love yo—

—ur TITS!”

He almost says it… then backs out and makes a joke, then writes it to her with invisible ink… but finally tells her (in earnest) later in bed 👀

A take on that empty space on the Hogwarts Library card, which I love (as you might’ve guessed) and is also one of the only HP merchandise things I own.

I saw a lovely headcanon for this by @jjuuppiter which inspired this 💕

[enselius]

“This doesn’t change anything,”

She’s telling him over and over that it doesn’t mean or change anything and even though he’s really tired of hearing it, he knows it’s 1: mostly to herself and 2: a lie 💕

P.S. That’s Draco’s cloak.

[writing-prompt-s]

You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches.

[dycefic]

I think I’d have minded less if I’d committed a truly heinous crime. Something that warranted death. Or even if I was the kind of person who would enjoy flinging a last defiance at my execution.

It was all just a show, anyway. They did it every year. They brought out a selection of criminals, and the Sorcerer who ruled us showed his power by bringing about their deaths by magic. Just to show, every year, what happened to anyone who crossed him.

There was a time, probably, when the people he executed really were rebels or assassins. In latter days he had to take what the dungeons offered. I was dragged up in chains between a pickpocket, sobbing in terror, and a man who’d killed another man in a brawl. There were few criminals of any note, by then. So instead of choosing the wickedest criminals, they chose based on appearance. The man who’d been in the brawl had a face like a clenched fist, and looked like a ruffian. The pickpocket, aging and with hands beginning to tremble, was a different kind of example. As was I.

“There aren’t many pretty ones, this year,” the man who chose me had said, examining me. “But this one will do. Not young, but not old, a woman, well-favoured enough for the gallows… what was her crime?”

The warder shrugged. “She tried to kill one of the sheriffs.”

The man looked down at me and I shrugged. “I hit him with a washing stick, because he tried to extort money from me, and he was a baby about it.” I refused to treat this as anything but pathetic, even after my sentencing. “I didn’t even break any bones.”

“Treason, then,” the man said, nodding. “Attacking the servants of the law. That will look well on the list. Send her.”

I had been debating ever since what to choose. Something quick? Something painless? I considered demanding that I suffer the attack I supposedly made on the sheriff, but then I realized the Sorcerer would only give me what the man had said I was going to do, and that was not a pleasant way to die. I had all but decided on something swift and relatively painless. Beheading with the sharpest of blades sounded good. It would be quick. 

Keep reading

[mothmans-mothballls]

I always see the “where else would i find this but on tumblr” thing said about things that are funny, but I can’t think of anywhere else where I can randomly run into a short story that shakes my core

[darkistmalfoyhead]

A silver trio and H sleepover? YES PLEASEEEEE!!

It would be in the Slytherin common room because there was no way in hell the boys were going to pass of the chance to flaunt there house pride. They may or may not have gotten all the first years to polish the place up, the trio of prefects threatening to hand out detentions. Hermione coming over in her scarlet pajamas, confused why everything looked so shiny and nice.

After a few sips of spiked butter beer the four turn into a bunch of gossips. Zabini, the one who always looks like he doesn’t give a damn about others petty problems, shocking everyone with his knowledge of scandalous tidbits of information.

To Hermione’s extreme embarrassment, the boys yell at anyone who enters the common room to ‘get the hell out’ because they have a guest. All it takes is one look at Draco’s murderous glare and the poor students run to there rooms.

Theo with a scraggly, purple stuffed dragon. Draco mercilessly teasing him until to his horror, Nott procures his snake plushie cleverly tucked under a blanket. He’s blushing angrily, refusing to speak as Hermione laughs. Yet he forgets his anger, his heart melting a little when she plants a small kiss on the snake.

They all go to sleep near the flickering green flames, the boys arranged in a protective circle around Hermione. She’s fast asleep, Draco’s fingers twined with hers. Yet if a passerby so much whispers a slur or looks at her with disgust, three pairs of mavolent eyes shoot open, threatening to destroy them in every way possible. No one’s going to call her a mudblood on there watch.

Just the silver trio and Hermione being best buds makes my heart so happy☺️

[punkrock-bottom]

How slutty would you say you are?

In theory? Very. In practice? Not at all. I’m lazy.

[punkrock-bottom]

I’m absolutely OBSESSED with this catholic take on my slutty anon post