target practise!

What to use when in Witchcraft -

Ok so I am gonna say this is my personal reference, its mainly through associations. You might TOTALLY disagree and thats chill!

Its more something to think about and a guideline of what I use myself…

Candle Magic:

Carve a candle when…. the candle represents the target, in sympathetic magic. When, essentially, the candle is a poppet and lighting it is a symbol of destruction or empowerment to the target.

Place something under the candle or before it when… you are doing general candle magic, when the candle represents empowering a wish, idea or concept.

Anoint the candle when… doing work with spirits and gods, when you mark the candle for a special purpose, when doing high magic.

Herbs and plant work:

Use dry herbs when… it is convienent to do so, when the herbs are out of season or when you need to store them in a jar or bottle for a long time.

Use fresh herbs when… the spell is very earth orientated, when doing magic on behalf of another or when the magic is sympathetic so that the herbs represent the target, within kitchen witchery.

Use flowers when… when the spell concerns love and sex, or perhaps fertility and attraction, due to flowers being the reproductive parts of the plant.

Use fruit when when… working with children as a target, or with children practising. When you work with fertility and abundance spells.

Use wood and twigs when… when the spell is for protection or binding, for hardiness.

Burn herbs (recaning/incense) when… you wish to cleanse or banish, or invoke an atmosphere - that being, for divination using herbs that are said to open up your perceptions, when banishing, burning acrid or pungent herbs.

Use oil infusions when… you wish to anoint something, when you wish to mark something permanently.

Use floral waters (rose water etc) when… dealing with spirits and gods, for glamour as it has a long history of being used to beautify.


Use metals (haematite, copper, ores etc..) when… you work in protection, when you do energy work due to the conductive properties of metal.

Use shell, pearl, coral and such when… you work in sea magic, when you work within emotional magic due to the element of water.

Use points when… you wish to direct magic to a target.

Use tumble stones when… you wish the magic to be gentle or manifest at a certain place on the body on a target.

Use geodes when… you work in protection, when you work with glamour aimed to obscure and hide.

Knot magic:

Use cotton when… it is convenient.

Use silk when… doing spells that benefit the target.

Use ribbons when… love spells and wealth spells, as well as confidence and beauty spells. Spells to ensure victory.

Use rope when… doing spells that aim to hurt or weaken the target, binding especially.


Use cloth when… the spell aims to benefit who the poppet represents, use particular care when sewing or cutting, choose colours that are appropriate to them.

Use wax when… you wish to manipulate the target.

Use clay when… wish to create fetches or servitors, when you wish to create permanency.

Use twigs when… you wish to bury or throw the poppet out, when you want the poppet to be easily destroyed by breaking or setting on fire.


Use an alphabet grid or circle when… you wish the sigil to be more random and less attached to you.

Combine the shapes of letters from a sentence… when your sigil is very specific and a short term goal.

Use your own personal symbols when… you want the magic to be connected to you, when it is personal.


Request from @deanwinnchesterisbae​: Bucky X Reader, reader’s on her period and Bucky has no idea what to do, hilarity ensues and Nat has to help him out. Fluff, cuteness, all of the snuggly Bucky (because who wouldn’t wanna cuddle the shit out of that man while in pain?)

Note: I was definitely giggling to myself as I wrote this lol!

Bucky x Period!Reader

Words: 1,364

Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine so all credit goes to their creators <3

“Agent Barnes I am sorry to disturb you but I noticed that your alarm did not sound out so I thought it would be best that I wake you myself.”

Oh the joys of having a computer system that could patch into your room without so much as a word of consent from yourself.

“There was a reason for that F.R.I.D.A.Y.” A tired groan left Bucky’s lips as he moved his metal arm to wrap around what should have been your torso….only to be met with nothing but an empty space where you had once been. His brows furrowed. “Are you able to locate [y/n]?”

It only took the system a few seconds to respond back to him with your whereabouts.

“Agent [l/n] is currently in the bathroom although upon further scanning I can see that her stress levels are higher than normal.”

You were stressed? This came as quite the surprise to the super soldier given the night you had just spent together, as far as he was concerned you had been happy – more than happy from the sounds he had remembered hearing from you. A rather smug little smirk began to tug onto his lips as he could hear said noises replaying in his mind but he was soon snapped out of his thoughts when you heard your voice coming from the bathroom.

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Who Killed Markiplier 2

What is the relationship between the Mayor, the Colonel and Mark really? I mean, the Mayor said that he and Mark have been friends for years, but then

at the end of this chapter the Colonel says “I will not be called a Murderer in my own home.” 

The chef says something about how he doesn’t work for him anymore, and calls him Private, and the Colonel gets angry and says “It’s Colonel now.” 

So what is their true relationship?

Tyler even says “Weren’t you and Mark the same age?” as the Colonel walks from the room trying to find the “zombie” haunting the grounds.

The Colonel and the Detective had been fighting the previous night, is it possible that there is something else between them?

Also, fucking loved the scene where Tyler is just “Master’s prize vase!” and when the Colonel says he was doing target practise he’s just “Insideee!!!!”

and PAM

Who is she to this whole thing? 

Where did she come from?

And Damien again trying to deflect the entire conversation, blaming the Detective by vouching for his personal connections to the viewer and the Colonel, but he seems mighty concerned about the Colonel and his whereabouts. He also spends time planting potential ideas of there being a hidden person and then low and behold Pam shows up. 

And Mark was apparently stabbed 37 times, poisoned, beaten, strangled, drowned and shot, in that order. The Detective is right,  (I love the reference to Cluedo here with the candlestick in the library xD)

This is getting interesting

Undercover (Alex x Reader)

AN: I HIT 100 FOLLOWERS! THIS BLOG IS TWO WEEKS OLD THIS IS NUTS THANK YOU SO MUCH! I had a sugar mouse and I’m planning a few things in in celebration so you should check my updates page to see what’s occuring (shameless plug but I’M SO HAPPY)


Requested by: @fandomsinthegalaxies I hope you like it!

Summary: In that case if you’re open for some requests 💕 can you do one about Alex where she is an undercover guy so she can be in the army and becomes good friends with tommy, when they got inside the submarine looking boat they find out she’s a woman which then later Alex develops a huge crush on her and is really protective over her and is willing to do anything to get her safe. Sorry for the long description. 😬


Summary: As if Alex didn’t already have enough motivation to try and get home no matter the cost, along comes a soldier that clouds his judgement and threatens his chances of survival. 

Originally posted by lance91leroy

 Masterlist     Next Part

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Give me Slytherins in Dumbledore’s Army.

Give me Slytherins vouching for and adopting muggleborn first years during the reign of the Carrows. Walking the corridors a day or two after the start of term, spotting a cornered and terrified looking Ravenclaw first year and wading in like, “Ah, there you are! I tried to catch you at the feast, but you left for that tower of yours. How’s your Mum? She asked me to keep an eye out for you. Come on, don’t know about you, but lunch feels like forever ago. Shall we go raid the kitchens? You can tell me how the family’s doing, it’s been ages since I’ve seen my cousins.” “Who are- umm - do I know you?” “Just keep walking kiddo.”

Give me Slytherins running interference. Sitting in the thick of it in the Common Room, listening in on the discussions and idle plotting the older students under the guise of studying. Giving the odd absent minded smile in the appropriate place and laughing when expected, but making careful notes in their Herbology crib notes. Later relaying the intended and potential threats to the rest of the DA.

Give me Slytherins raiding the dungeon store rooms. With the Carrows’ idea of discipline bleeding Madame Pomfrey’s resources dry, alternative sources of items like raw murtlap, salamander blood and doxy eggs need to be found. Not all Slytherins take potions past OWLs, but there are a number who don’t who leave the dungeons with full book bags and later leave the Room of Requirement or the Hospital Wing with them considerably lighter. Later, the empty bags will be lined with takings from the Green House 8, where Longbottom and Sprout are growing in secret what they can’t steal from anywhere else.

Give me Slytherins insisting on hand to hand fighting being included in the DA’s training schedule. Because it doesn’t matter how good you are in a duel, if they get your wand away from you, you are going to have to find another way to defend yourself. They throw in a few hand held weapons as well because, well, come on, have you seen the corridors around here? There are suits of armour, like, every four feet! There are swords and morning stars everywhere people. Plus, it will scare the shit out of them. And a few halfbloods introduce the concept of homemade weapons and explosives and then the battle plans just get downright dirty.        

Give me Slytherins hitting other students with spells in the corridors. Imagine, you’ve just stumbled out of Defence Agai- wait, no, can’t really call it that anymore – Dark Arts. You’re shaking, trembling from head to foot. They had you demonstrating the Imperious this afternoon. On Luke, you’d always had a bit of a thing for Luke. And you couldn’t do it. You’re not sure what they hit you with but you can barely keep your feet under you. It doesn’t take much for the Slytherin girl to shove you into the wall. You hit the floor as she walks away, her head thrown back in a cackle. You vision blurs with tears from pain, humiliation and just being sick of being so damn scared all the time. Some lion you are. You don’t see the Slytherin boy coming the other way until it’s too late and his wand is already raised on you. You cry out as the first of the tears start to fall and brace yourself. There’s no pain though, despite the continued malicious laughter in the air. You feel warm instead, like someone’s just wrapped you in a much needed hug. You feel warm and safe and, as impossible as it seems, you feel happy and oh so hopeful. You drag yourself to your feet as the cheering charm settles like a warmed cloak and you lock eyes with the Slytherin boy just as he rounds the corridor corner. He winks at you and places a finger over gently smiling lips.

Give me Slytherin girls laying into boys during DA combat sessions. Gryffindor boys unwilling to raise their wands on a younger, smaller girl. “Oh come on! Seriously?! Dude, do you honestly think that Bellatrix Lestrange is going to smile and curtsy and thank you for being a gentleman?!” *curse flies* “Do you really think that Dolohov is going to extend the same courtesies to me?!” *another curse flies* “Because I telling you now Galahad, he ain’t! Now fight back you damn pussy cat!” “She’s right Davies, now fight back!” “Thanks Longbottom!”

Give me Slytherins convening with other members of staff. Requesting to be put into detention. They can be there for support for the younger students, the non-purebloods when the Carrows get into their stride. The moon touched girl from Ravenclaw, all blonde hair and pale eyes, she came up with this spell. Allows the effect of a curse to be split multiple ways, takes the edge of the Cruciatus is cast at the right moment. But they need more people in there, if anyone else passes out like the first time Lovegood did it will raise suspicion.

Give me Slytherins raiding the laundry baskets for spare ties. Yes, ok, so it’s not going to fool anyone with half a brain for very long, but the number of the Carrows underlings who just clock what colour is dangling around your neck and keep walking is laughable. The other staff members have cottoned on to it, seeing ties being swapped out at the classroom door and say nothing.

Give me Slytherins contributing their own photos and stories to the Memorial Wall in the Room of Requirement as the War drags on. Friends and family, alumni who refused to join Voldemort’s forces and paid the price for their defiance.

Give me Slytherin quidditch players who suggest aerial support squad to patrol the Forbidden Forrest in secret when the Carrow detentions warrant a little field trip. Waiting in the air in case anyone is in need of a quick retrieval. Give me beaters from different houses practicing with the bludgers, improving their aim and trying to see it they can weaponise them, or charm them to attack certain targets. Give me chasers practising flight with a second rider and keepers doing weights training in case they ever need to snatch someone out of danger. Give me seekers testing their reflexes and developing communication short hand for when they will be scouts on the battle field.      

And give me Slytherins in the face of bigotry. Because that shit is a two way street. How many time has it been said, “Why don’t they just chuck all the Slytherins out?!” over the years. “Who’d even want to be a Slytherin?” Truth is, the sorting hat gets a rhyming couplet to give an overview of each house and that is it. Not all Ravenclaws are free thinkers, not all Gryffindors are fearless, not all Hufflepuffs are good people. Give me Zachariah Smith after a bad clash, looking around at the red, blue and yellow lined room and those students bleeding and bruised and staring in on the few wisps of green set solidly among the others. Give me harsh words, unfounded accusations and a comment of ‘snakes in the lions’ den’. Give me Neville and Ginny yelling back, shouting him down, but he’s built up a head of steam and some of the younger members start to look torn and begin to edge way from the Slytherins in their midst. Give me a small slight Slytherin girl, finishing up bandaging a spained wrist of a small Gryffindor boy and rise to her feet prettily dusting off her hands. Give me her crossing the room quickly and quietly to within striking distance and then lamping Smith in the jaw. “Any means to achieve our ends you say? And what happens when our goals are your goals? When our home and friends and lives are the same one threatened as yours? The houses are there to give a sense of family in a new environment and to give us the distraction of inter-house quidditch matches. It was not designed to segregate us, we get enough that out there! We are one side here, and unless certain heads are removed from certain arseholes, it is going to be the side that comes of worse! Now, if anyone else requires essence of murtlap, I’m over by the second window.”

Give me Slytherins in the DA.

Wedded Bliss

TITLE: Wedded Bliss


AUTHOR: MaliceManaged

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Odin determined to find Loki a wife in a misguided, though somewhat well-intentioned attempt to ‘mellow him’. …


    The warriors looked on impressed as Edith let fly arrow after arrow at the practise targets in front of her. While she didn’t always hit the centre of the target, the woman had very good skill with the weapon.

    Loki had decided they should hold off on causing trouble for a bit, to give his father time to cool off before he really did throw them in the dungeons for a week as he’d threatened to do, and so he’d brought Edith to the training grounds. Part of it had been a desire for a little practise of his own (for practical purposes; not to show off his combat skills), but he was also curious as to what Edith could do. He knew she was good with explosives, obviously, and she’d told him Natasha had trained her in hand to hand combat, but he wondered how she’d handle other weapons.

    “You are quite good with that,” Thor commented.

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anonymous asked:

Hey, i would like to request headcanons for Bakugo, Kirishima and Monoma with a fem s/o who is hella into guns (bc her quirk involves guns, idk) and the boys actually get invited to take a look at her HUGE collection (of course with her having a license/permit for them and everything). Btw i really enjoy your content! Keep up the good work! :) <3

Oooo this sounds pretty cool! I’m not a gun expert myself but I’ll try my best with this.

I’m gonna imagine that her quirk is that she can’t miss a shot or something like that due to her eyes that can target and lock on an opponent.

Bakugou Katsuki

  • He’s a little bit surprised but overall is kind of impressed at such a marvellous collection. She seems to have everything ranging from small handheld guns to big machine guns and explosives.
  • Is sceptical when his s/o says that she can shoot all of them without scopes. When his s/o proves him wrong by shooting targets and hitting every mark with each gun.
  • He’d try to beat them in target practise only to have his ass HANDED to him. He goes into a bit of a mood for the rest of the day.
  • Offers to help her develop some form of gun that can incorporate his explosions with her guns.
  • Finds it cute when he sees his s/o get a new gun for her collection because her fce would light up andshe’d jump up and down like an over-excited child.

Kirishima Eijirou

  • He’d be really happy and excited when his s/o shows him her gun collection. He’s overjoyed at this new step in their relationship.
  • His jaw would hit the floor when he sees how big his s/o’s collection is. He’d seen a few in some manly magazines before but none that looked as amazing as hers.
  • When his s/o explains and gushes over the guns he’d nod and smile like he knows what she’s talking about but really, he wouldn’t have a clue what she was talking about. He couldn’t let her know that though otherwise his pride would be severely damaged.
  • While reading one of his manly magazines, he’d invite his s/o over so they can look at the guns part of the magazine together.

Monoma Neito

  • Sweatdrops. That’s a lot of guns.
  • “This is truly amazing! I don’t think anyone else in the world could have a better collection than yours.”
  • Guns aren’t really his thing but he’d gladly listen to his s/o ramble on about them and even watch her shoot some of them.
  • If anyone ever messes with his s/o, he’ll just casually walk up to them and whisper in their ears that his s/o has the biggest gun collection ever so can and will fuck them up.

From the safety of his recording room, Jack smiles wryly. “I have to check my food every day since Anti had a thing for putting glass and razors in there when he first came around. He’s gotten better, since I usually share with Signe, and he likes her.”

Anti is outside the door, glitching around and trying to get in. “It can get pretty boring here, since Jack usually ignores me. Signe’s cool. I bug Dark a lot as well. I have a target practise board in the garden that’s cool.”

Mark/Dark version

Why Play Necrons?

I’m really struggling to see the appeal of playing Necrons and I’d like to hear people thoughts on the matter. I’ve had a Necron army for years, I’ve played many battles with them, but now I’m honestly thinking about selling them and starting a new army. When I first started collecting Necrons they were great, I loved them. But now they’re just… so boring. I don’t know what first drew me to them. My main problem is that they just don’t feel satisfying to play.

With Eldar you have a bunch of specialist squads that not only look different form one another, but they also perform their own little separate roles on the battlefield. With Tau and Imperial Guard, you can blast the enemy away with superior long ranged weaponry. With Orks and Tyranids you can field massive armies and overwhelm your opponent. With Dark Eldar, all your army can hover above the ground on skimmers or jet bikes. Necrons however just… endure? Is there any real itch that playing Necrons can scratch? Because their theme isn’t artillery, Psykers, or melee.

They’re pretty tough compared to some armies, they have access to a 3+ invuls, Canoptek spiders can make more scarabs, and resurrection in general makes Necrons fairly tanky overall. But that’s just not fun to play. Most games I’ve played all I did was get shot a lot and slowly die. Necrons aren’t long ranged and most of them are terrible in melee. They just sort of sit mid-range, get charged or blasted away by superior firepower. I want to be destroying my enemy, not being their target practise.

As for their lore, Necrons are undead robots with an Egyptian theme. Nothing there is that original to be honest. I’ve seen the Egyptian style done to death, and while you could say Necrons are badass… every faction in 40k is badass so nothing special there. Is there something I’m missing with Necrons? Their characters aren’t that remarkable, they just eccentric humans in robot bodies. The most interesting thing I find about Necrons is the C’Tan, but you can’t field an entire army around that theme.

I don’t really want to sell my Necron army but I’m enjoying Tyranids far more than them, so I’m just not playing them. They’re not that well painted and even if they were it’d be black and grey which is a bit drab. I’m sure I’m missing some key factor of the Necrons that makes them worthwhile, but unless anyone can tell me why I should keep my Necrons, they’re probably going to get the boot.

Happy Antiversary

for @katniss-the-dragon-101 (for some reason you don’t show up to tag?) Some more Angsti for you ^^

Anti hadn’t been expecting much. A cake maybe, candles and perhaps a few crates of alcohol, a pat on the back from some of the egos that weren’t afraid of him, but nothing big and brash.

He would have liked it, but he wasn’t expecting it.

So, when he woke up and was barely even acknowledged by the other egos, Anti tried to hide his annoyance. He told jokes, he hinted, he did everything he could to see if the others actually knew what day it was, but none of them seemed to catch on, and Anti was left feeling ridiculous for even getting his hopes up.

The anniversary of an ego appearing on Jack’s channel was supposed to be special. It was supposed to be celebrated, but not one of the other Septic egos even mentioned it to Anti. No congratulations, welcome to the world, oh hey it’s been a year since you arrived that’s awesome.

Just silence.

What made it worse was Angus was gone.

Whenever the Survival Hunter received a call from someone, anyone, from a video game world he would go, opening the dimension between worlds and stepping through like it was nothing. Anti loathed the power, but also craved it. If he had it right now, he could step through the dimensions and find Angus, wring his neck for leaving on such an important day, and then apologise.

Not that Angus would have known. He wasn’t around when Anti first came into being after all, trapped somewhere doing his thing, but the glitch had been dropping hint after hint hoping that the ego would realise that October 10th was an important date for him. And still, the Hunter had gone.

It was his job, Anti told himself.

People need him, he’d mentally scream.

Well so do I, his brain would reply.

The day was drawing to a close and Anti was angry and on edge. No one had said anything to him, and he tried not to care but the other egos had had cake and parties and even presents, all in stereotypical anniversary fashion. Anti wanted that. He wanted to be involved.

He was moping on the bed when he heard the door open slowly. Anti didn’t even look up to see who had entered. It could have been Dark for all Anti cared, and the grey skinned ego’s appearances were few and far between.

“Oh look mates, I’ve spotted a wild Antisepticeye.” A voice began talking softly and Anti went stiff. “This beaut is dangerous in the wild, and even more so when cooped up inside, but if I can just get up the right side of him and stroke him just right…he’ll hopefully relax.”

“Shut it Angus.” Anti growled playfully, his bad mood fading as the brown-haired ego popped up at the side of the bed. He had dirt smudged on his cheeks, plasters on his fingers and a bandage on one hand but otherwise didn’t seem too worse for wear. With one hand behind his back, he was clearly hiding something, but Anti was just glad he was back.
“Where’d you go this time?” He asked, sitting up and sliding over so Angus could climb onto the bed.

“Rook Island.” Angus shrugged, “Get a lot of calls from the locals there, not surprising considering all the wildlife, and people post messages for me on my local board. Feel like I need to keep checking back.”

Anti hummed in response.

“I may have brought you a little something.” Angus continued with a sly grin, “I heard it was someone’s Antiversary today.”

The pun was terrible but music to Anti’s ears and he couldn’t help but laugh as Angus pulled a big bouquet of flowers – all found on Rook Island and all with the abilities to scare away certain predators he would claim – to hand to Anti.

“Happy Anniversary of your arrival, Anti. It’s good to have you here.” The Hunter grinned, leaning in and kissing Anti gently on the cheek. “Are you totally full on cake?”

“No.” Anti mumbled, “No one else remembered.”

“Course they didn’t Anti, you don’t exactly share. Besides, I know for a fact those fellas out there think your anniversary is All Hallows Eve, since you fully appeared then. So don’t take it so personally, you dingbat, they’re probably planning something for then.” Angus laughed as he spoke, and shook his head as Anti flushed and mumbled something indistinct under his breath.
“Now, let me get a bit more cleaned up. Every survival hunter knows they have to be dressed to impress when going out to dinner.”

“Dinner?” Anti questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course mate,” Angus nodded, “Got a dinner reservation booked for us, and some fun planned for afterward as well. Target practise and the like, thinking of getting another film of you to commemorate the anniversary. Should do it every year, see how you’ve grown. So come on Anti, scrub up and let’s go.”


Anti grabbed Angus’ arm as the Hunter attempted to stand from the bed and make for the bathroom. Pulling him back down, Anti kissed him properly, tasting blood and dirt on Angus’ tongue. “Welcome home,” He breathed.

“Thanks,” Angus smiled, “Now come on, let’s go celebrate this special day!”

My Right Hand Part 3

Part 1/Part 2  FF Link

As I said, the third chapter was half-written so I finished it a lot quicker. The next chapter is going to be done from scratch so it will probably take me a bit longer to update. I will try to provide regular updates, I really love this setting, but, as always, I am not making any promises. It will depend on the response I get. If you like this story, please reblog it. It will give me drive to write more.

See, the reason I don’t update my fanfics very often and I choose to focus on other projects is that it takes a lot of time to write a 4000+ word chapter and more often than not, I feel like my time is wasted, especially now that the NaruHina train has slowed down considerably.

So if you like it, support it.

Before I start, a big shoutout to @entous-art (aka @entou) who inspired this and @sasaki-nh for allowing me to use her beautiful artwork in FanFiction Net.



flashback/ messages

Nine months ago…

Naruto came back from his scheduled trip at the hospital to find some bags hanging on his apartment’s door handle. There was a note pinned on the door. He recognized the handwriting immediately.

My dearest Naruto-Kun,

I prepared some food for you. I hope you enjoy it.


He grinned widely. It had become a sort of a routine for him. Every time he came back home, either from the hospital, or from a mission there was some food on the door waiting.

He didn’t know how she did it. One would expect that her schedule would get in the way. That she would be on long missions, that she would want to take a freaking break from making food for him every now and then. But no, that bag full of food was always waiting there for him, always hanging on his door handle.

He looked forward to receiving it in fact. It somehow felt special to have somebody like Hinata cook for him. It was the first time somebody was doing something like that for him

He lowered the bag on the ground as he picked up the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. He inwardly felt a small sense of satisfaction as he realized that he was now able to do it a lot easier.

“I’m home…”

There was no response…

He sighed and slumped as he went inside…

Of course there wasn’t a response. Hinata merely helped him until he got his prosthetic. It wasn’t like she was his girlfriend or wife or anything…

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TEW holiday fan art because SHUT UP I DO WHAT I WANT

I was inspired by Runningwithpaper ’s cutie drawings of Dishonored characters in ugly sweaters here , so I thought I’d do something for my favo game nerds 

Also I frcikin,,, drew Joseph with his gloves because sssh I have headcanons about those they need to stay on all the time ok?

Target Practise Pt 1 ~ 10K/Reader

This nearly turned in to smut because obviously my mind is always in the gutter but I stopped myself, so no warnings ! Just fluff :)


You squeaked and held the knife in front of you, pointing it directly towards the Z’s head. The Z came storming towards you and you jerked forward slightly, pushing the blade through it’s skull. The Z dropped to the floor and you nearly went down along with it, as your blade was still wedged in to its head. You let go of the handle and stared down at the Z which was now jumbled on the floor.

You tried to pull the blade from its head but it was wedged in tightly. You pressed your foot down on the Z’s head and tugged, the blade came out but you went flying backwards on to your butt, cursing out loud.

“Oww,” You whined, blowing the hair that had fallen in to your face away with a huff.

“Are you okay?” A voice spoke quietly and you jumped in shock, holding the blade up once more in an attempt to look threatening. You turned to look and it was 10K, staring at you in amusement with his eyebrow raised.

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Fever: Part One

Rating: T
Fandom: The 100
Relationship: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Chapters: ½

Summary: When Bellamy gets sick with a mysterious illness, Clarke refuses to leave his side as she tends to his fever. However, she might just end up getting more than she bargained for.

Read on AO3

Author’s Note: After a million years, I finally post it. To be perfectly honest, I was intending to write something a bit lighter than my last fic but this ended up being angstier than I originally intended… . *sigh* Such is life. And, yes, I’m still a hoe for the sharing-a-bed trope, why you ask? ;) Enjoy!

Bellamy knew that something wasn’t right when he missed his shot in target practise.

Even though he was aiming for the wooden post, his bullet only skimmed it, ripping up the side of the post and ricocheting off of the metal gate behind it. For a dazed, confused moment, he wasn’t quite sure what happened. Bellamy never missed – it was a fact he prided himself on, one of the reasons he had been granted such an esteemed position on the Guard in the first place. But, now that he thought of it, his arms felt weak, and he just could not maintain a steady grip on the gun.

Yep, something was seriously wrong.

“Still a lousy shot, I see,” Raven quipped, sitting on one of Arkadia’s benches nearby.

Her left leg was still perfectly useless, but she seemed to enjoy making a point of following him around, just to make cheeky remarks any time he messed up. The girl seemed convinced that she was a God, especially since ALIE gifted her with her “super brain”. If Bellamy were a bigger person, he might have even thrown a compliment her way every now and then, but – how he saw it – her ego was already overfed.

Generally speaking, Bellamy would have fired back a sarcastic retort to level the playing field, but he just couldn’t dig up the energy to fight back this time. His legs felt like they were going to collapse at any moment and his vision started to blur at the edges so that all he could see of Raven was a distorted image in his periphery.

“What, you’re not even going to deny it?” Raven. Her voice was growing fainter, just a dim annoyance at the back of his mind now. “Bellamy?” she asked again. Bellamy thought that there might even be a tinge of concern laced in her voice, but it was hard to tell when his ears didn’t seem to be functioning properly.

The different shades of green from the trees blended with the grey hues of the asphalt below his feet as Bellamy’s vision blurred even more intensely. His stomach dropped with a lurch and a wave of nausea washed over him as the world tilted around him. Vaguely, he thought he heard voices and someone, probably Raven, saying his name. A shiver rushed through him, chilling his bones to his core, and he let out a shaky breath. He didn’t know how much longer he would be able to stay on two feet. The Earth below him was moving. It rippled across his vision like waves, an ocean of grass and asphalt – soon it would consume him.

A hand closed around his bicep and the world stilled. His skin tingled where he was being touched and Bellamy slowly turned his head to see who it was. At first all he saw was a hazy silhouette, but his sight started to clear, revealing blonde hair and blue eyes, features that continued to sharpen as his senses returned slowly to him.

Clarke. It had to be.

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can we talk about how 10/11 year old alec was already getting crap from his parents about not being good enough. he was so young yet instead of getting built up and praised by his parents when he achieved things, he was being beaten down, being told that he needed to do better. imagine the first time he hit the bullseye on the practise targets with one of his arrows, imagine how happy he was yet his parents told him every arrow he shot should of hit the bullseye, not just one. imagine how much time he spent in the training room, practising relentlessly in hopes to please his parents. he spent all of those years from then up until now having his confidence in his shadowhunter abilities knocked, his self esteem taking hit after hit every time his parents said “you’re not good enough”. and now finally, alec is breaking away from his parents criticism and realising his own worth and I’m so so proud of him.

Lumen (part 11/ ): Secret intentions

Originally posted by sheisraging


Previously: part 10

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary of part 11: Some action, a naughty Bucky and a sketchy Fury.

Warnings: maybe 1 little swear word?

Word count: 1.703 (without background information).

A/N: I absolutely loved writing this part! Lumen is going on hiatus after the mid-season finale (part 12) because I’m currently in the middle of a very demanding and time-consuming science project. Meanwhile, I still have a couple parts to “Aurum et chaos” lined up for you as well as the sequel to “Love me like you used to”.

This is my first fan fic series, so bear with me. Feel free to tell me your thoughts on this one, constructive criticism is appreciated! Also, since this is an ongoing series, the tag list is open as we speak, so feel free to send me a message!

Background: Iona Cole is a perky, gifted and ambitious assistant to a critically acclaimed professor at a renowned university. That is, until she snaps in the middle of class, the auditorium packed with students on introduction day. Having a long family history of psychiatric diseases, her mother sends her to a private clinic to receive the best treatment. In reality, this institute for people with “special needs” is a smokescreen for the underground operation Hydra is running there.

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Murphy x Reader - You Broke it?

Murphy x Reader - You Broke It?

(Request): “If you have time, then 42 for Murphy from the 100 but thanks anyway.”

No. 42: “I swear it was an accident.”

Okay! Here you go, anon :)


Jasper and you were in the shit now.

You had only meant to try Murphy’s gun, you know for target practice, but this had been a big misjudgement; of both the kickback on the gun, (making your shoulder ache even still), and on your ability to work it all together. Breaking the gun itself was bad. Breaking Murphy’s gun, the one that he had formed an attachment to, was worse.

“Y/n,” Jasper quivered, “we are so dead.”

“At least in the afterlife there’s warm water,” you lightened, but gave him an alarmed glance still, “right. This is okay. Maybe it still works…” The trigger is your last resort, and when you give it a little tug, you both hear a concerning click from somewhere else in the guns mechanism. He moves his head to face your eye level.

“Hide it in the woods?”

“Hide it in the woods.”


And so you hid it in the woods. Jasper studiously brought along a shovel, and you buried it under a tree stump, where no one should have ever found it.

No one except Miller of course.

Out on a hunt later that day, Miller stopped the small group you were in and saw the butt of a gun sticking out of the ground, and ordered it salvaged. You leaned into Jasper, and hissed:

“Next time, idiot, I do the burying, m'kay?” He nodded quickly, knowing that both of you were, yet again, in the shit.


‘The Shit,’ as it became known between you and Jasper, lingered for several days, but you both were aware that Murphy would inevitably find it. You had to take action.

You were aware that stealing weapons was a felony, worthy of punishments such as imprisonment for a number of days, or having your food rations cut, but what else were you supposed to do?

“Let me do it,” you reassured a slightly bedraggled Jasper, who stopped being so tense, “it was my fault after all.”

“Are you sure?” His voice was high in pitch, so you knew he didn’t really want to take your place. You just shook your head, and walked quietly around the corner of the drop ship. The mid afternoon sun was dulling slightly, layered with lacy grey clouds which swirled across the blue as far as you could see. It was in moments like this that you liked to observe the more distant things, that way you could distance yourself from your actual opinion on what you were about to do.

There was no one at the door of the weapon storage room, and you presumed that it was because the guard had gone to fetch an evening meal, which also meant that you didn’t posses a great deal of time.

Scouring the shelves desperately, you saw no sign of the busted up gun, but then a thought occurred to you.

One that made you kick yourself.

Miller had probably seen that the gun was broken, so it was probably with Monty or Raven, who would be able to fix it. You had not used any initiative at all. God damn.

“What are you doing in here!?”

The masculine voice made you turn your head in alarm, and three people stared at you menacingly: Monroe, Sterling and Murphy himself.

Arms grabbed you roughly, and 'The Shit’ became ever deeper.


Imprisonment. Like you weren’t used to it already. And what made it worse was that the boy that was causing you guilt stood guard, watching you in the corner of the room, making sure that you wouldn’t suddenly make a dive for the exit hatch of the small metal room.

His boredom spread across the room to your section, and his fingernails started to tap rhythmically against the steel. Finally, he asked:

“You bored?”

“God, yes,” you exhaled, he had broken the tension for you, and the weight of 'The Shit’ almost felt lighter, “so how’d you get stuck with this job?”

“Why are you interested?”

“You’re the one that asked me if I was bored!”

“Placement issues within the ranks. In other words, no one else bothered.”

“Yet you did?” Your question causes him to roll his pale eyes, and a small conversation gap occurs, but you had to say it sooner or later.

“I broke your gun!” You blurted, “I was trying to use it for target practise, and it spasmed out, okay!” He lent forward suddenly.

“You broke it?”

“I swear it was an accident.” You put your head in your hands, responding to the tone of his voice, which sounded like a person sounds just before they start an argument. But he didn’t:

“Wait, my gun’s broken?” He looked down at the weapon in his lap, and you only just realised that it was there, “I knew that someone probably hid it for a prank, but I didn’t notice that it was broken.” He approached you, and you gestured to where the damage was.

“I..” He trailed off, “I don’t know what to say, really,” he scratches the back of his neck thoughtfully, “I mean, on one hand you may have saved me from a bullet in my foot, and on the other I think you’re kind of a jackass for taking my gun-”

“-hey! You’re not so kind hearted yourself, you know!”

“Hey, hey! I’m the one that should be doing the yelling right now! You broke my gun!”

“Well,” you said awkwardly, “at least I had fun doing it.”

“That’s not the point!”


Clint Barton had enough.

The Avengers tower was… nice, it really was, but there was a limit. There were boundaries. There were lines that simply cannot be crossed.

Barton’s peanut butter was one of them.

“I don’t ask for much in the goddamn house,” he muttered angrily as he stomped out of the kitchen. “I deal with Widow’s taunts and teases, I deal with Thor’s laugh, I deal with Tony’s assholery-”

He kicked the sitting room door open, startling Thor and Falcon, who were in the middle of their arm wrestle, and Bruce, who seemed to be talking nerd with Tony. Steve leaned against the railing of the stairs, looking perplexed at his tablet.

“Hey Hawke-” Tony frowned a little at Clint’s face, which closely resembled Hulk’s when he was about to smash something. “Everything okay, buddy?”

“You know,” Clint continued, louder this time, “I’m actually a really great guy. No, I really am.”

He pointed at Bruce. “I don’t tell you when you stink to high heaven, do I? No. I keep it to myself. Mainly because I don’t want to die, but also because I respect you, Bruce, and I respect your space.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes slightly. “I don’t-”

Hawkeye continued his onslaught. “And you-” He pointed at Steve. “You see me judging you when you cry over Brokeback Mountain? Do you?”

Steve stared at Clint, a little stunned. “I, eh-”

“No, I don’t. Why is that, Captain Dorito?”

“Erm, because-”

Because I respect your goddamn space and privacy.”

Steve looked at Tony, whose face lit up like Christmas just came early. Steve started to shake his head.

“No, Tony, none of that is-”

But Clint moved on, his accusatory finger pointing at Thor.

“Aaand you, Norgewian goddess, do I tell you to use a little less conditioner so that you won’t blind me in battle? Do I?”

Thor gave Clint a genuinely perplexed look. “Look, Archer, I have no idea-”

“Oh, you don’t, do ya? We can smell the peaches a mile away, sunshine. Don’t deny it. But I’ve never held it against you. Ever. Because frankly your hair is beautiful when it shines. But that is besides the point. I respect you. I don’t even use the conditioner even though I really really want to. I respect your things, goddammit.”

Thor’s frowned deepened. “Barton-”

“What’s got your feathers all ruffled, Hawkeye?” Tony asked, and Clint narrowed his eyes at him.

“What’s got my feathers ruffled, tincan, is the fact that I cannot catch a break in this place. I don’t ask for much, you know. All I want, is for people to leave my food alone. More specifically, my peanut butter. That’s all. That. Is. Literally. It.”

Hawkeye put his hands behind his back and started pacing.

“So I am out, doing the Hawkeye business, very stressful stuff as you can imagine-”

(He was actually doing target practise with Deadpool, but they didn’t need to know)

“- And I come back, and all I want is a standard PB&J sandwich. With MY PB. That I buy. Especially for me. And what do I find in the fridge?”

Steve raised a finger. “Let me guess. No peanut butter.”

“No peanut butter!” Barton echoed indignantly. “One of you people took my peanut butter, and so help me God if I find out who it was, they better start crying for their mother.”

He glared at all the people in the room, sparing and extra long glance at Thor, who shrugged his innocence.

“Wasn’t me, I’m afraid.”

He scowled accusingly at Steve, who shook his head. Tony raised his hands innocently.

Bruce frowned. “I’m allergic. Do I really smell?”

Tony leaned in. “Hulk does.”

Bruce’s frown deepened.

Clint pointed at Sam, who started shaking his head vehemently.

“Okay, then who-”

Just then, footsteps echoed behind him, and Black Widow walked up, spoon in her mouth and a jar of peanut butter in her hand.

“Has anyone seen-” Natasha looked at Hawkeye, then down at the jar in her hand, then back at Hawkeye, and slowly started backing away.

Clint’s eyes widened. “You?”

Natasha started shaking her head, holding out the spoon and jar in front of her, backpedalling fiercely. “Now Clint, don’t do anything you’ll regret. Superspy, remember?”

She heard a low growl, and Clint started after her, and she turned, sprinting at full speed.