Hufflepuff x Hufflepuff friendships: They’re waking up in glorious light, the gentle, tripping peace of the morning. They’re unexpected gestures, food or thoughts or blankets for the cold. They’re compliments, smiles turning skyward, thumbs dragged over soft skin, let me know you get home safe texts. They’re running through flower fields in the spring, hurricane petals fuelling runaway hearts, maps and compasses that always point back to home. They’re pulling you closer, letting you in, trusting you with your barely-there breath on their neck. They’re sun cracked smiles, flowers blooming in the palms of your hands. They’re eyes so soft they could be made of silk, kiss-bitten lips and cheeks made of roses. They’re the first easy breath after years of suffocation, knowing that whatever happens, you’re going to be okay because they’re beside you.
Hufflepuff x Gryffindor friendships: they’re blanket forts with secret passwords, a world built up from nothing. They’re laughter late at night, choked noises when you know you should be silent. They’re back to back, spinning, a wild desire to protect, to love, to have forever, not just today. They’re boxes overflowing with memories: cards and pressed flowers and lipsticks from first kisses you don’t really remember. They’re smiles wider than the sky, promising the universe if it means having each other: the sun, the stars, the flowers, the moon. They’re giddy, excitable, endless, maddening fun; the beauty of innocence embodied in the breath between your lungs. They’re hiding but always being found, secrets neither of you can keep. They’re falling asleep under a mountain of words- dreams and adventures and the promise of a better world tomorrow.
Hufflepuff x Ravenclaw friendships: they’re constellations made by far away stars, places you haven’t visited yet. They’re hiding in empty swimming pools, night spilled fracture lines, light reflected through a broken mirror. They’re staying up too late and waking up too early, weary yawns into knuckles and kisses pressed onto delicate palms. They’re smiles like spun sugar at breakfast, seeing the universe reflected in each other’s eyes, reading poetry from lips shaded pink. They’re gasping breaths when no one else can hear, hiding hurt no one else can see. They’re talking pain into silk, weaving misery into tapestries stained with desperate last words: I love you, I need you, why wasn’t I enough? They’re picking up pieces of each other and examining them, studying them, dusting them off and putting them together again. They’re arm in arm, skipping, dancing to a rhythm neither of you can hear yet. They’re reaching, reaching, stretching across the void, pulling back, pulling in, safe in each other’s arms.
Hufflepuff x Slytherin friendships: they’re knees pulled up to your chest, hushed whispers in the early morning. They’re a hand at the base of your spine, subtle touches, smiles, small and fleeting. They’re silence hanging through water, eyes closed, warm, gentle, calm, safe. They’re slamming books down, lightning cracking the sky, thunder rolling in your breath. They’re losing oxygen, hurricane hearts and lungs swimming with poetry. They’re still, so still, static thought made art on canvas skin. They’re pulling back, helping up, balancing on someone’s shoulders. They’re secret meetings in dusk-hushed corridors, tears when you can’t hold them in. They’re light crossing the sky in the early morning: possibilities pressed gently into the palm of your hand. They’re reaching for someone and knowing that they won’t let go- not unless you tell them to.
date the being made of static. the one who, when they speak it sounds like their voice is coming through a radio speaker, distorted, but beautiful. words and sentences separated by short bursts of static. when they sing, warm it sounds like it’s coming from inside your head. every night they sing you to sleep because they love you so much even though they have no physical form to hold you with. date the being with the distorted, angelic voice.
fall in love with the girl made of static and wires, the girl from inside the screen who shimmers like phosphor-dots and color bars when she’s out of there. this world is much more dull than where she’s from. but she thinks you’re bright and colorful. if you hold her hand, it’s warm, and feels a bit like when you were a kid and you’d sit too close to the tv. she just wants someone to be close to so that she can be real and part of this world, too.
One distinctive part of trench warfare, made possible by its static nature, was the night raid. These sorties across no-man’s-land to capture enemy soldiers or map out their positions required efficient and silent weapons, prompting the production of many variants of these rather medieval tools behind the frontline by craftsmen or regular soldiers, limited only by the materials available to them. The simpler designs were barely more than lead-weighted clubs, but there were commonly outfitted with boots’ hobnails, barbed wire, heavy metal cogs, and all sorts of salvaged parts to make them more deadly. Some examples came to resemble flails, either with springs for a main shaft or the usual chains that wouldn’t have been an odd sight five centuries earlier.
ok i haven’t had the brain to leave proper comments on them yet but i’ve had TWO (TWOOOOO) amazing fic-gifts in the past two days that everyone needs to read. they’re both triangle ot3 (of course) and they’re both AMAZING and my HEART IS SO FULL???? i cant believe my headcanons lead to such things
make sure to check specific content warnings on both before you read:
first one is let everything fall by curiouswildflower ( @maeflowerpetunia ). it’s usnavi/ruben/vanessa but mostly usnavi/ruben interaction, but more than that it is ruben/Getting Better, the real OTP, and it makes my soul do weird twitchy things
second one is ghosts by tomorrowsrain ( @wobblyspelling ) and That Asshole Jason is here and im going to die of anticipation long before the next three chapters come out but Happy Nearly Birthday The Fuck To Sophia i hope usnavi and vanessa kick the shit out of him
How do you make Fatal's static skull and bones and his Jacket/Sweater?
His skull/bone static is made by using a selection tool to select the area, applying a white to black gradient in the direction I want, and then applying a Film Grain filter onto the gradient.
His jacket/sweater is kinda done in the same way…kind of. For that, I use an outside image/texture, move it underneath the lineart layer (so I can clearly see the outlines), and then use a selection tool to select just the area I want the jacket texture applied to. Once that’s done, I Cut the selection (or Copy, if I still need the texture for like his slippers or something) and then Paste Special > Paste in Place (shortcut is Shift + Command + V for Mac, Shift + Ctrl + V for PC), and then boom texture :)
Total word count:
-> Chapter 10 word count: 2743
Chapter 10 summary:
Iktsuarpok (Inuit)- the anticipation you feel when you’re waiting for someone to come over to your house
This chapter gave me some trouble, honestly. But I’m happy with how it turned out in the end!
There won’t be a chapter next week, unfortunately :( I’m home for spring break so I don’t have time to write. Also, just so you guys know, the final two chapters are linked meaning chapter 12 picks up directly where chapter 11 ends. And then we’re done!
Thank you all for your support and love for this story, I can’t tell you how much it means to me <3 I’ll see you all again the weekend of 4/22!
“- it’s just dumb, y’know?” Killua’s annoyed huff made static crackle out of the speaker on Gon’s cell phone. “I don’t get it. Why would you even bother trying to leave Zevil Island? I mean, he knows he needs six points to pass onto the next phase of the Exam.”
Gon hummed thoughtfully, watching golden sunbeams filter through the stained-glass window above the kitchen sink. The refined sunlight hit the granite counter in swirling shades of emerald green and sapphire blue.
“Maybe he’s looking for shortcuts?” he suggested.
“Ha, probably. I don’t think Milluki’s ever finished a game without finding some crazy trick to cheat his way through to the end. What a lazy bastard, huh? Can’t even win fairly at the one thing he’s actually good at.”
Gon’s lips tugged upwards into a crooked grin. It didn’t matter that Killua couldn’t see it- Killua always made him smile. It was a reflexive action, like breathing.
Switching the phone to his opposite hand, Gon said, “Not everyone is as good with video games as you are, Killua.” He carefully gripped the glass cup in his hand as he lifted it out of the dishwasher and placed it on the proper shelf. He had promised to finish his chores before Aunt Mito got back from shopping, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t talk to Killua at the same time.
“That is not my problem. Milluki’s the one who- SHIT!”
Gon’s stomach lurched. “What?! Killua, are you okay?!”
i’m feelin like Death so this post will probably be my last for the night but MORE DREAMWALKER SHIT: I personally hc that the Shade tends to be most effective when it’s attacking someone on a subconscious level and this includes their dreams. Bc of this, Duskseer has basically mastered the art of altering his dreamscape. Almost the entirety of his dreaming is done lucidly- it has to be, lest the Shade start preying on his thoughts. He can also Dreamwalk, but he’s definitely the type of dreamwalker where a demon could snap him up in an instant, so instead he tries to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. His Dreamwalking form is that of a one-eyed rat, but it’s body is made up of a static landscape, and it’s single eye is a setting sun (a literal “dusk rat”.)