An AU where the freelancers don’t die but they just gets tons of puppies and kittens instead.
So what happens if two people who have promised their firstborn to separate witches have a child together? Do they both just pop up in the nursery and have a custody battle?
I need a book about a little girl whose parents had promised their firstborn to different witches and the only way that both ends of the deal were fulfilled was for them to have joint custody of the child.
I love it!
And then the witches, forced to share a cottage while raising their joint stolen child, fall in love…
Carolina: commander, competent, A-grade smirk, trust
York: loud, hair gel, carolina’s chew toy
South: cool tats, funny, terrible music, swear-words
Wyoming: smart, cool mustache, knock-knock jokes
North: boring, the anti-South
Connecticut: nice, cool hair, asks a lot of questions
Washington: loser, dork, what an idiot, partner
hall of fame
In case anyone wanted some new games writers to follow, someone was kind enough to make this handy-dandy guide!
Nude Portraits series by photographer Trevor Christensen
This is my new favorite thing
This is the greatest tweet in the history of tweets
If anyone makes you feel bad for reading/writing fanfiction/OC’s remind them that Ref vs Blue is the longest running web series and sci-fi show in America. And the fact it is literally a fanfiction based on Halo. And that it is backed by Microsoft and 343 Industries.
imagine your otp meeting each other for the first time, at night, in the woods, while both trying to dispose of their freshly killed corpses
Your name is Karkat Vantas and this is the worst night of your life. You stumble through the underbrush, unbalanced with the weight on your shoulders. You haven’t made near as good time as you wanted, but the goddamn cerulean you’re carrying feels like he was made of lead bricks. You can’t imagine how dense seadwellers must be.
You heave the body off your back and onto the forest floor. It sprawls, limbs every which way, and it would almost be funny if it weren’t, you know, a culling offense you’re trying to hide. You should probably cut up the body so the daytime scavengers will scent it more quickly. You get as far as equipping your sickle, then just stand there feeling queasy.
What the fuck, there’s a light moving through the trees, a halo of red and blue. You freeze. If you run you’ll make noise, and whoever it is—some psionic asshole—will find you for sure. But as you stand there, frozen, trying to come up with a functional escape plan, the psionic is coming closer. You’re going to die.
The light drifts into your clearing and you can actually see the psionic, this skinny jerkwad of a troll floating along instead of walking. Behind him—
Floating behind him there’s a body, and he drops it with a startled “Shit!” when you meet his eyes. Suddenly things look a lot better for your continued survival.
"Highblood?" you ask in what you hope is a sympathetic tone. You toe yours in case he hasn’t noticed it yet.
He nods. “You know how it is.” His voice is thin and nasal, lispy. Familiar. You’ve heard that voice, over Trollian, when you couldn’t type fast enough and switched to voice chat to argue with this arrogant chutenugget about your ~ath skills.
"twinArmageddons, holy shit."
His eyes glow brighter when he’s surprised. “carcinoGeneticist?”
Serendipity this good doesn’t even happen in the movies. Your squakblister proceeds without checking in with your thinkpan first. “I have never wanted to punch anyone in the snout more than I do right now.”
"If you can reach me, sure." Even his dentition is detestable, snaggle-fanged and ridiculous. "Free hit."
Your name is Karkat Vantas and this is the best night of your life.