#I WROTE THIS AT LIKE 2AM

[hkhyuk]

i’ve just been thinking about how a lot of people say that the robin mantle is a curse but.

but robin wasn’t a curse, not to dick, not really. to dick, robin was good. robin was everything. it was what his mom called him, it was light, it was hope. it was never a curse to him. robin was never meant to be a curse.

robin was never mean to be a legacy either, which is why when bruce took it away from dick, it became the way it did. i can’t imagine how much it would hurt dick to watch children die again and again and again in his family’s colours, when the colours were meant to be the embodiment of hope. bruce took the name robin away, and being robin changed. the mantle wasn’t kind to it’s wearer anymore. it wasn’t bruce’s to take and give away.

which is why, i think, that the reason the mantle is sort of, ‘kinder’ to damian, is because bruce wasn’t the one that gave it to him. it was dick.

#well i guess u could argue that alfred was the one that gave robin to damian #but still. #dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #robin #robin wasn’t meant to be a curse #it wasn’t mean to be a legacy either #dick grayson the man that u are #i wrote this at like 2am #so just know that this is one of those silly posts

[blue--ingenue]

My Hero

Prompt: "Don't touch her!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pairings: Sebastian x Reader

Summary: Sebastian realizes his true feelings for his Gryffindor when they sneak out of the castle and are attacked by Victor Rookwood.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: violence, mentions of blood, swearing

See bottom for author's notes.

Despite what others in his year may say, Sebastian is rather academically-inclined, thank you very much. He's never been one to pass up an intriguing book or two (especially if it's from the restricted section), but no tome could hold a candle to the rush he feels from trying out a new spell for the very first time. The snap of his wand through the air as it matches the energy of the perfect incantation is intoxicating.

He and his Gryffindor decided to sneak out to practice new spells right after dinner. They’d found a prime spot in the form of the jobberknoll den overlooking the castle. His eyes drift to her, crimson robes sloped gently over her shoulders as she leafs through a book he borrowed from the restricted section. He focuses back on the task at hand. He draws his wand down, flicks his wrist in a flourish toward his target, and feels the familiar pull of magic sing through his body and rush out through his wand arm. "Impedimenta!"

The spell connects cleanly, striking the tallest bough of the willow tree before him. White light spreads from the center of the branch and hums through the rest of the tree as its movements stop almost instantly. He smiles and admires his handiwork. A few jobberknolls peek out from the newly-petrified branches and lock their beady eyes on him just before taking off with indignant twitters. 

"That ought to come in handy the next time we run into one of your poacher friends," he calls to her. To his left Sebastian hears rustling as she places a leaf between the pages of her book and places it on a moss-covered stump. 

“Useful indeed. Not bad,” she comments idly. Sebastian narrows his eyes at her and finds what he’s looking for. Almost imperceptible, the upturn at the corner of her lip lets him know that she’s baiting him. He doesn’t even think before taking it. 

“Is that all?” he drawls. She turns to face him fully, and wow. His lips decide that now is the perfect time to pull his faux wounded expression into an utterly besotted grin. He might actually be embarrassed at the level of effortless (and agonizingly to her,  unknown) control she has over him if he weren’t so busy trying to quell the blush that seems to hum through the very core of him. The moonlight shines against her onyx hair. Most of it has fallen out of the loose bun she’d wrangled it into with a ribbon and is framing her face like gentle vines about a wreath. She looks ethereal, silhouetted against the moonbeams and the glow of the castle behind them. 

She strides toward him, stopping just short of where he stands and looks up at him through fluttering lashes. “I’m sorry,” she says in a syrupy tone that lights a match somewhere deep within him. “Did you want me to say, ‘Oh, Sebastian! My hero! I may rest easy know that I’m in your strong, capable hands!’” she simpers. Though she jabs at him, there is only an easy warmth where the biting sarcasm should’ve been. She’s still gazing up at him when she crinkles her nose and smiles. He’s sure he’d readied a line from his well-crafted arsenal of witty comebacks. He could feel the words on his tongue, drawn back like a bow waiting to fire, but he smiles back down at her and all that tumbles from his lips is a breathless, “Yeah.”

She bursts out laughing at his change in demeanor. It’s a tinkling, melodic thing. There’s no pattern to it, but it’s as though the notes fall at perfect intervals,  just so, to create another beautiful harmony each time she pauses for breath. She punches his arm in jest, more of a pat than anything else, and looks back to the castle. 

“It’s gotten rather late. Should we be heading back soon?” she asks. Perhaps it’s just his hopeful imagination, but she sounds as reluctant to pose the question as he is to answer it. He likes spending time with her. Just the two of them. But then he sees her stifle a yawn and decides he’d rather like to see her get a full night’s rest for once. Heaven knows she needs it, what with the fate of the school seemingly falling onto her shoulders. 

“I suppose so,” he responds. “Wouldn’t want to risk missing curfew.” She rolls her eyes playfully and he sees a grin grace her lips as she gathers her things. He’s so intent on committing her silhouette to memory that he doesn’t notice there’s someone behind him until the tip of a wand presses into his neck. She glances up from her stack of books and freezes. In the same instant the books thud into the dirt she’s already whipped out her wand and fallen into a defensive stance. 

“Get away from him,” she snarls. Her voice is low and her gaze is lethal and Sebastian thinks, hysterically, that he likes this look on her. A familiar voice, self-assured and absolutely grating on his nerves, sounds behind him just as its owner presses the wand closer to his pulse point.

“I’ll say this only once: toss your wand to me or your sweetheart here stops breathing,” he spits. Victor Rookwood,the  sleazy bastard, doesn’t even have the decency to sound terrified in front of, arguably, the most dangerous witch on this side of the country. He holds her gaze.

“Run! Just get out of he-” he doesn’t get to finish. Rookwood drives a knee into his back so hard he falls to the ground. He feels his cheek scrape against a stone as he goes down, but before he can push himself up Rookwood has a fist in his hair and is pulling him to his knees. The wand tip is shoved painfully into the side of his neck in warning. He wipes a drop of blood beaded at his lip from where it had split on impact and meets her gaze. Without another word she turns a hateful gaze to Rookwood and tosses her wand a few feet to the left of him. 

“Good girl,” he purrs. Sebastian feels embers burn in his veins at Rookwood’s sultry tone and resists the urge to grab his wand and snap it in half. He freezes when he feels another presence behind him accompanied by a distinctly human hiss. The presence stoops down and sniffs, nose mere inches from the cut on Sebastian’s cheek. His Gryffindor moves as if to rip the thing away from him, but Rookwood stops them. 

“Patience now, Theo. Save it for her,” he tuts. She tenses, but remains where she stands. Theo straightens himself to his full height rather reluctantly and Sebastian sees the moonlight glint off of a pair of red-stained fangs. 

“You’re a vampire,” she breathes. Her voice is breathier. Not out of fear for herself, but for him, he realizes as she fixes Sebastian with a mixture of terror and relief. 

“Yes, stating the obvious. Quite like a Gryffindor,” Rookwood snaps. He sees a familiar blue glow swirl about her hands and knows that she wouldn’t need a wand to destroy both of the men behind him. She seems to pull the ancient magic from the very ground beneath her as the air hums and crackles. Sebastian has just enough time to wonder why the vampire looks the furthest thing from afraid when Theo is suddenly right behind her. One sickly pale hand fists in her hair and yanks her head back, exposing her throat. The other curls possessively around her front, locking her in place and Sebastian sees red. 

“Let her go!” he spits, throwing all his strength into trying to thrash out of Rookwood’s grip. A fist punches the air from his lungs and he sputters. Between gasps he can hear her thrashing in the vampire’s grip. The bastard holding him in place tuts.

“You’re hardly in a position to be making demands, Mr. Sallow,” he chides. He looks to his Gryffindor. Her chest is heaving with anger and exertion. Rookwood continues speaking, his voice laced with venom.

“Theo here has a very…rare gift,” he chooses his words carefully. “That ancient magic of yours could very well turn the tide in this little rebellion. Theo’s gift allows him to extract it from you. I promise it won’t hurt a bit,” he lilts. He sees her swallows and dips her head. She meets his eyes and she gives him a reassuring smile,  soft and sweet. Her demeanor shifts instantly as she steels herself, glares defiantly at Rookwood, and please, god, no-

“Do what you will. Let. Him. Go. And I’ll cooperate. I’ll do anything you want,” she grits out. He can only watch, chest heaving as he pulls in breath after ragged breath, as she bows her head in defeat. Theo’s fingers trail her exposed collarbone as he sweeps her hair behind her ear and Sebastian’s throat closes in unbridled rage. His voice is not his own when he thunders, “Don’t touch her!”

“Oh, you will cooperate. And you,” he hisses as he tightens his grip in Sebastian’s hair, “You’re going to watch.”

Her face twists in rage as Theo sniffs her neck, but she doesn’t fight it. 

“Oh, and I did mean it when I said this wouldn’t hurt a bit,” he mentions, seemingly as an aside. “It’ll hurt a lot.”

As the words leave Rookwood’s lips Theo seems to find what he’s looking for. Sebastian’s world narrows down to the point where his fangs pierce her skin. There’s not a rustle from the tree he jinxed a lifetime ago so he can hear them sheath into her flesh with perfect, horrible clarity. She doesn’t scream as Theo buries his head in her neck and sucks. The only sound she makes is terrified gasp and a strangled cry as he sucks the life from her veins. 

“Stop-please, please! Leave her alone!” he begs. He’s desperate, hysteric. He’d do anything in his power and beyond to take her place. Rookwood only laughs, and laughs, and laughs. He’s hyperventilating as he watches Theo drink the life from her. After every pull Theo takes a soft blue light pulses through her and fades as quickly as it came. He wants to look away. There are a million shrill voices screaming in his head and they’re all telling him to look away! but he can’t. Because she’s looking at him, really looking at him, as though she can see right into his heart and acknowledges a truth that even he can’t bring himself to admit, and smiles at him. His heart, every fiber of it belonging to her - always her - shreds itself to pieces as he realizes she’s trying to be brave for him. Damn Gryffindors. Damn their bravery, and their courage, and damn her for stealing his heart. For being beautiful and selfless, and damn the universe for gifting her with ancient magic only for it to be ripped right from her soul.

Her gaze is growing heavier. The intervals between the blue pulses of light are dragging, and even in the miniscule light she looks pale. She’s already completely limp in Theo’s arms, but it’s the sight of her eyelids falling shut that wrenches a strangled scream from his throat. He doesn’t know how long it’s been going on but his panicked mind wonders if there’s even any blood left in her at all. He tears out of Rookwood’s grip with inhuman strength, wrenches the wand from his hand, and casts the loudest confringo to ever singe the highlands. In quick succession Rookwood rolls away from the flames and apparates himself and Theo away. There’s a loud crack and then - silence. Just a grave, damning silence.

He scrambles to his feet and trips to where she lay, dropping to his knees and turning her on her back. She’s still. Too still.

“Oh god, god no…” he trails off as he gathers her into his arms. He presses two shaking fingers to her pulse point and feels nothing. A choked shout spills from his lips. His arm is propping her up and her head tilts back, exposing the too-pale expanse of her throat. He calls her name again, and again, and again. Her features are slack and her lips are tinged blue. Why are they blue? They’re pink. Always so wonderfully pink…he wonders hysterically. He gathers her in his arms, holds her close to his chest and bows his head. 

“Please don’t do this,” he begs. He pleads to her, to the universe, to anyone who will listen. “Please don’t leave,” he sobs. Tears streak down his face, but he doesn’t feel them. He’s so numb with grief that he nearly misses the faint huff of air that graces his cheek. He stills immediately, and when he feels another breath ghost his cheek he feels a giddy flash of hope ignite in his chest. He brushes the hair from her face and holds her head in his hands. Every muscle in his body is taught with anticipation. He gently cradles her and lets his forehead fall against hers.

 “Come back to me…” he sobs.

The universe holds its breath - and then answers in the form of a weak, but wonderfully alive, little cough from the girl in his arms. He pulls back and watches, in shock, as she fills her lungs with a gasp. Her brows furrow, her eyelids flutter, and in the second before she opens her eyes Sebastian’s world blazes back into existence with agonizing clarity. Her eyes drift in and out of focus before finally settling on him, and with her first breath whispers, “...Sebastian.”

A sob wracks his body and he allows his head to fall back toward hers. He holds her in his arms like she’s the most precious, fragile thing in the world, and presses a desperate kiss to her lips. If he could only cast a nonverbal spell once in his lifetime, it would be for this. He would imbue this single kiss with all of the things he’s been too afraid to say: I love you. I’m completely and irrevocably yours. I’d give anything and everything to make sure the world never harms you again. 

“...Sebastian,” she murmurs against his lips, an urgent edge to her tone that says she has something more to say. He retreats to listen. Impossibly, she’s smiling. She’s looking right into his heart as though he hung the stars in the sky.

“...My hero,” she laughs. He presses another kiss to her forehead and laughs softly with her. She was going to be okay. And Sebastian decided that as long as he had breath in his lungs, nothing would ever harm her again.

Author's Notes: This is my first time writing a character x reader fic lmao. I had fun writing the angst. If you want to see more of my work you can find me on ao3 (blueingenue). If ya'll enjoyed and want to see more, feel free to send me asks!

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #angst #hurt/comfort #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #gryffindor #slytherin #fluff #light angst #one shot #no beta we die like solomon #i wrote this at like 2am #tw violence #violence #tw blood #blood #tw swearing #swearing

[sheepshelf]

i wouldnt walk around brooklyn ny (or anywhere the plausible giants may be) with a violin case because what if linnell is onto me about the contents and starts stalking me before he even watches a news report about a similar situation unremarked upon detail? im a perfect stranger its not like he couldve asked me what i was hiding in my violin case..

#i wrote this at like 2am #pls tell me someone gets this #tmbg

[nburkhardt]

It’s been a while since I wrote anything I liked enough to post anywhere. But I really liked how this part of something came out and thought I could share it since I haven’t seen much of a certain line in it. Since I kept thinking of Steve holding back from admitting his feelings because of everyone he loved leaving him. Don’t ask me about the timeline, it’s sometime after season 4, obviously Eddie survives and grew closer to Steve. (Based around the lyrics of Charlie Be Quiet! By Charlie Puth)

~~~~

Jolting awake, Steve looks around and finds himself still in the back room of Family Video.

His head is pounding and he falls back on the chair, glancing at the clock, it glaring at him saying it’s well past closing.

“Well, good morning”

Eyes nearly popping out of his head, he jolts upright and finds Eddie sitting across from him.

“What-what are you doing here?”

Eddie shakes his head and tilts his head to the side, “do you want me to lie or to tell you the truth?”

Confused, he opens his mouth and closes it before just nodding.

Eddie drops his legs onto the floor and looks at him with a smile, “well, the lie would be that my van got stolen and you’re my ride now. The truth? I’m concerned and forced my way in here, locking the kids out and bribed Robin into getting them out of the store. That was” he looked down at his watch, “three hours ago, gotta say, Steve. Having two breakdowns in thirty minutes is a lot, I’m surprised”

He snorts, without thinking. His brain slow from the headache. His heart, though, is beating like crazy.

“Yeah, well, I just ruined the only good things in my life. So,” he shrugged before looking at the ground, “but I’ll be fine. You can go-“

Eddie let’s out a ‘tsk tsk’ while shaking his head and stands up, just to sit next to him, a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place.

“Now, Stevie. You don’t get it, clearly.” Eddie starts, “Dustin filled me in on what you said, and he’s right, it’s very concerning. Clearly your parents fucked your head up and Nancy really did tear your heart apart for you to believe you’re unloveable and not wanted”

Shaking his head, he looks away from Eddie. Hoping his heart is only loud to himself, “Eddie, I- I don’t need-“

“Don’t need what? Someone to help you realize your brain is fucking stupid? Don’t need me here to listen to you?” Eddie takes his hand off his shoulder, “come on Steve, let me help”

Steve doesn’t know what to say, his heart is beating at an alarming rate and his head is screaming at him to stay quiet. The nasty voice in the back of his head whispering that it’s all a trick, that Eddie will leave him immediately.

But, maybe?

Maybe he can be like Eddie, brave and unapologetically himself. Not afraid to show his feelings.

Though, he doesn’t think he can handle being told again that the person he’s in love with isn’t and can’t be in love with him. This, this could and will break him. He can’t be around all this rejection anymore, his heart can’t handle it.

“Hey, Stevie, come back to me. Get out of your head.” Eddie whispers to him and oh so gently places his hand on his face and forces eye contact, “there you are”

He chokes on a sob and his eyes well back up, “I love you” he whispers it, hoping and praying that maybe this is a fucked up dream. Closing his eyes, “I’m in love with you and, and I can’t help it, I’m sorry”

There, it’s been a month and he said the words not only out loud but in front of Eddie.

Eddie who’s silent and hand hasn’t left his face. Steve doesn’t know what it means, his tears falling down his face and his heart is impossibly fast and the nasty voice in his head is laughing a bitter sound.

This is why he needed to be quiet, he needs to leave, needs to get away from-

“Steve, look at me” Eddie’s voice doesn’t sound angry, the hand pushing his face back towards him but he has his eyes shut tight, “Steve, please”

He’s a weak, weak man.

Opening his eyes, he finds Eddie’s face is red and tears in his eyes but there’s a smile on his face. “Why are you sorry?” He whispers it, and Steve doesn’t know what it means.

“I-“ he starts and he shuts his mouth, trying to find the words. “Didn’t mean to?”

That startles a laugh out of Eddie, he shakes his head and moves his other hand to Steve’s face, nearly squashing his face. And, well, Eddie’s laugh is something that always makes him smile.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie starts and loosens the grip on his face, “I’m not at all sorry to say, I’m in love with you.”

~~~~

What do we think? 😅 I left things out because it didn’t seem worth posting and a lot of it has been around fics already. Insecure Steve is very popular, let’s be real here lol. Again, I really haven’t shared any fics I’ve written in years, the last time I posted anywhere was I think back in 2012? Not that I stopped completely, i write for myself all the time and steddie is my favorite right now. All mistakes are my own because I suck at spelling and sometimes too dumb to come up with clever wording.

The last part is seriously my favorite part of this.

#fic #steddie fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #I wrote this at like 2am #probably doesn’t make much sense since I left things out

[emptinesstomelodyao3]

As I called my friends in a panic and a man followed me in the dark,

I saw a girl ahead of me cross the street to avoid him,

And I realised womanhood is fear.

As I used my arms to hide my stomach in a photo,

I saw my one of my friends hide her arms and pull her hair over her ears,

And I realised womanhood is self-loathing.

As the doctor told me my pain was nothing,

My friend's father brushed away their accomplishments,

And I realised womanhood is to be ignored.

But

As I watched the sunset with a smile,

A girl beside took pictures of the same pink sky,

And I realised womanhood is joy.

As I guarded my friends drink dutifully,

A girl across the club pulled her drunk friend away from a prying man,

And I realised womanhood is safety.

As I laughed and cried with my friends,

A woman pulled me aside to call me beatiful,

And I realised womanhood is connection.

As I fell in love,

My friend's heart got broken,

And I realised womanhood is to feel.

As I lived my life with fear, pain, self-loathing, joy, connection and feeling.

I realised womanhood is everything.

And I wouldn't change it for the world.

#i wrote this at like 2am #in about 20 minutes #and just wanted it out of my notes

[lazylittledragon]

'i'll just do a couple of doodles of mombin™/platonic stobin parents' nevermind, borderline graphic novel

#stranger things #platonic stobin #mombin™ #robin buckley #steve harrington #i blacked out at 2am last night and wrote like 25 pages #i don't write fic so i do this instead and get to call it my job #incredible #i have No excuse to not finish this one bc i'm not at school anymore #there has to be an existing gay club called passionfruit right #cw pregnancy

[localapparently]

/ orv epilogue + sp identity spoilers , cw blood

!! Please do NOT reupload my comics / works anywhere !!

(Read right to left)

#i wrote this feverishly thinking about how much my big sister meant to me #no alt text #<- very sorry #this took me a full week of working til 5am... coughs up blood.. i just wanted to finish this no matter what.. #fun fact i was struck by inspiration at night to script this comic and so i pulled out my phone to type out the idea #and while typing it out i made myself cry . pathetically curled up on my bed in the dark at like 2am or something. #orv #omniscient readers viewpoint #omniscient reader #omniscient reader fanart #orv fanart #orv spoilers #yoo joonghyuk #yjh #secretive plotter #yoo mia #crit's art: orv

[kentopedia]

satoru gojo, who’s loved you from afar until your husband dies in shibuya. who helps you back up on your feet when you’re not sure you have any reason to live. who helps you raise the child you were supposed to have with kento, even though he’d never even known of her existence.

you learn to love satoru, and he loves you and your daughter just the same. but you will always ache a bit, chest twisting in pain, when your daughter, with her pretty brown eyes, starts calling satoru dad.

and though you see traces of kento in her everyday, you never correct her. satoru is content to play the role of the father, though they look nothing alike, and she will question it when she’s older.

but, for now, it’s easier. there’s no good way to tell a child that her real father is a man she will only know through photographs.

#i wrote this at like 2am before i fell asleep so #sorry good morning

[crybaby-bkg]

Bakugou who is clingier than he’d like to admit. Not because he’s insecure or doesn’t trust you or whatever bullshit some might think, no. He just loves your presence, your aura, the sweetness that always surrounds you. It’s always just a reminder for him to chill out, to be vulnerable, to love you open and honestly.

Pouts a little when he asks you to go somewhere with him, but you tell him you can’t right now, you’re busy. He’s grumbling under his breath the whole time, and returns sooner than he usually would.

But the moments where you do follow him—he loves it. Convinces you to join him in you guys’ home gym, and just loves it when you’re there beside him. You guys don’t even have to talk half the time, he just wants to be near you. Sometimes you’re corny and kiss him every time he does a sit up or push up, but a lot of the times, you just sit there quietly beside him. Pull out a blanket and book, lay on the floor next to him while he does his reps, sit on the bench beside him and blast your music. He feels more at peace during those moments.

Or, he wants to cook you something (because that’s his very own love language). He sets you on the counter beside him, talking to himself and to you occasionally. You bump him with your toes and he bites at your hands when they reach for the still hot food. He feeds you a little once it cools down, but after that, he goes back to cooking. Only this time, he presses his side as much as he can to your legs, kissing you when too much time passes by.

also!!! when he comes home after a long day and wants to shower. He doesn’t necessarily need you to do anything for him, besides provide the comfort you always do with just your presence. You talk to him quietly about your day, doing your skincare routine when he brushes his teeth after he gets out.

He just really loves being near you, even if it’s spent mostly in silence, because you’re the only thing he needs in order to function.

#I wrote this at 2am bc I couldn’t sleep last night #and I feel like I’ve written about this before but I’m too lazy to check lol #hope this is alright :) #bakugou treats! 🍬 #—new treat in the streets! 🍫

[driaswrld]

i think about higuruma proposing on a rainy day alot.

in all honesty, he really didn't think it would rain after he planned such a nice dinner, made the two of you dress up, spent a shit ton on fancy dishes that hardly interested him, traded his messy suit for a neat one, meticulously scented his pulse points with your favorite perfume and ordered champagne (he hates champagne, but it's the way your eyes follow the bubbles that persuaded him)

and next thing you know, after nearly two hours worth of conversation, a sudden downpour in the city, one hurried cab drive home, your heels in your hands and his arms holding his suitjacket over your head to shield you from the rain. . .

he's on one knee, drenched from head to toe on the front porch, proposing to you after you two had to literally run home in the rain, his suit jacket still draped over your shoulders, his dark hair damp and dress shirt sticking to his skin, your face cold from rainwater.

higuruma apologizes, because he always wants to give you the world, and damp clothes and a proposal on a gloomy day is hardly what you deserve in his eyes — now that he thinks about it, he wonders why you're even hearing him out, why you stayed in the first place, because this hardly does you justice.

but when he's just kneeling there, velvet box open, with that crooked smile and brows scrunched, waiting with bated breath for your answer, dark eyes peering up at you, you think nothing could be more hiromi, than a proposal like this.

and then you say yes, and the abrupt force of his kiss has you two stumbling backwards off the porch and back into the rain.

you two end up catching a cold the next day.

#📰 — archive #it rained at like 2am yesterday #i wrote this between journalling #hiromi is the kind of guy who defines #''when you know you know'' #and at some point he already knew you were it for him #it doesn't matter if it's raining or the world is ending #he's yours eternally and he's open enough to admit that #anyways #jjk higuruma #higuruma x reader #higuruma smut #higuruma hiromi #hiromi higuruma #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[grxceful-ly]

peter bringing mayday with him to do spider stuff because yeah, he had things to live for before--but now he has a child and he is going to raise this child and be there for her and maybe if she’s there, strapped to his chest, he’ll be more careful. he’ll consider his life almost as precious as hers. maybe bringing mayday to work is a precaution. 

#disclaimer: it's like 2am and i don't know what i just wrote because my brain won't function enough to read it over again #i also have read like zero spiderman comics so if this doesn't make sense because canon already speaks on it #i'm sorry #atsv spoilers #spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #peter b parker #mayday #i am having thoughts #PLEASE BLOCK APPROPRIATE TAGS IF YOU DON"T WANNA BE SPOILED PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU #miles morales #into the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman spoilers #this thought came about because i think swinging around with a child is the stupidest/coolest thing ever #and i feel like peter wouldn't do it without a reason #anyway sorry for the random change in fandoms i saw the movie tonight and it was fantastic #also #catch me crying in the theatre because peter wants his daughter to turn out like miles #OKAY IM DONE SPAMMING THE TAGS NOW BYE #across the spiderverse spoilers #spiderman across the spiderverse

[spotty-is-slumberous]

“What does it mean to be a man?”

This is my first time attempting a comic… I don’t think I did a very good job, but I at least wanted to try it out because this is something I’ve wanted to share and talk about…

I’ve been thinking a lot about my past and future recently, especially as it revolves around my identity… and my health.

I never thought I’d make it to 20, especially not in the environment I grew up in. But I did it. I made it.

You can make it, too. Despite the things you hear, despite the way you’re treated. If you’re true to yourself, if you’re honest, if you’re able to come to terms with who you are… it’s because, somewhere, deep down, you want to live. You want to be happy.

So do that.

My transformation and transition was about survival so that I could see a day in which I was happy and comfortable and content, despite what I’ve been told and what has been done to me. I deserve it. I’m worth it.

I’m excited to be able to someday find that in myself and believe it a hundred percent.

I’m excited to live and finally feel alive.

#spotty speaks #comic #trans #trans art #transgender art #vent #vent art #it’s probably also super nonsensical because I wrote it at like 2am one night and didn’t edit it at all lol #wanted it to be raw #straight outta the am #trans community #trans comic #queer #queer pride #trans pride #transgender pride #transmasc #transmasc pride #uplifting

[trick-of-the-troubles]

this world that has promised so much has delivered so little

because the people who made this world did not make it with us in mind

and the people who had the power to change the flawed system have instead chosen again and again to do what's easy rather than what's right

and it's hard living in a world that didn't think of you in the first place

and you deserve better than to be an afterthought

and i love you

and i'm sorry

#i wrote this when i was upset and exhausted at like 2am #was thinking about editing it to flow better but i think that the more direct emotion/original version is better #this could apply to many things i think but i wrote it with physical disability in mind #dont worry about derailing - this post can be about whatever you need it to be about /gen #disability #disabled #physical disability #cpunk #physically disabled #cripple punk #chronic illness #chronic pain #writing #creative writing #disability poetry

[arienic]

When you blink awake, the first thing you notice is his light: on. Again.

It’s spilling from the cracks of his office door, and although it wouldn’t usually be so noticeable, it is now, especially because the golden warmth of his candlelight so contrasts the chill of silver moonlight that floods his room—your room. 

You’re already pulling the thin blanket off yourself as you wonder, How long has he been awake? Has he been drinking water? Has he eaten? How much work has he been given this time?

After a few moments of stumbling your way towards his door, you manage to clasp the brass handle. With a twist and push, there he is: your lover, nodding off over a stack of reports.

You’re squinting a little bit as you move towards him, a hand up in front of your eyes to ease the adjustment from near-total darkness to a well lit room. He hears you, you know, because the moment you’re within arm’s reach he twists in his chair to face the side.

You step forward one more time, now close enough to see the drooping eyelids of your barely-awake lover as he looks up at you, before you finally speak.

“Cyno,” you say softly, “come to bed. How long’ve you been working, lovely?”

“As soon as I finish this,” he mumbles, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes. He ignores your last question—well, ignores or he just hasn’t heard it at all. Your lips pull into a frown again.

“Your paperwork isn’t going anywhere, you know.” You reach forward and cup his face, thumb rubbing back and forth on his cheek. Cyno turns and presses a kiss to your palm, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.

“The paperwork won’t, but they—the people that—the—”

“The rule breakers? The plagiarizers?”

“Yes.” He sighs, leaning further into your hand. You shake your head and watch as he tries to keep awake. “Them. Those people. Those… those scoundrels.”

Despite your best efforts, you huff a laugh. “Scoundrels? You’re sounding a lot like that old lady back at the market now, Cyno.” He sighs again when you brush the hair from his face; you tuck it behind his ear with a feather-light touch. “Look, see? Maybe you’re a changeling, lovely. You really are turning into her. You’ve got the hair to match, too.”

“M’not old,” he grumbles. “You are.”

“Never called you old.”

“Shuddup.”

Your grin fades into a small smile when he sinks even further into you; you’ve moved to stand between his legs so he doesn’t fall flat on his office floor. Hands having left their places on his cheeks, now they card through his hair, pushing it from his face as he rests his head against your stomach.

“Cyno,” you say gently, “come to bed.”

You just barely manage to make out the words he says into your stomach: “Jus’ one… one more. One last.”

“You can barely keep awake, lovely.” 

Cyno shakes his head weakly. You narrow your eyes. His actions don’t seem to match up with his words: even as he says he doesn’t want to, he nuzzles into the warmth of your body, fingers tracing circles on your knees.

When your hands still in his hair, he whines. 

“In the morning, who do you think’s gonna have to deal with all the little mistakes on your reports just because you chose to keep pushing yourself?” He mumbles something against you that, this time, you can’t quite make out. Either way, you say, “That’s right, lovely. It’ll be you.” 

You start running your fingers through his hair again, and now Cyno melts, giving in. His entire upper body’s slumped against you and so, afraid of him falling asleep on you completely, you push him back gently and pull a hand from his hair to cradle his jaw, tilting his head upwards a little so he can look at you properly. 

“So, what about now?” you hum. Your lover blinks up at you, sleepy-eyed. “You feel like coming to bed?”

A moment before Cyno murmurs, “M’kay.”

You smile, thumbing his cheek again. “M’kay. D’you mind standing up for me then, lovely? Just ’til we get to the bed.”

He answers with a push of his body away from yours, hands braced on the edge of his work desk so he can stand properly like you’ve asked him to. Your arms hover over his sides, at which he sends you a look.

“M’not that sleepy,” are the words that accompany said look, which make you raise your eyebrows.

“Sure, lovely,” you say, guiding him towards the door, hands hovering over his sides. Like you only a few minutes ago, he stumbles his way into your bedroom. Two or three times you have to steady him by the shoulders because he keeps tripping over his own feet.

Finally, you reach the bed. Cyno crashes into it, letting out a satisfied hum as the comfort wraps ’round his aching body. You smile, climb in after him, and pull the blanket over you both.

It’s immediate, the way he reaches for you. Cyno’s weight drapes over your body, and at last, your lover settles against you, face tucked into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped fast around your waist. Your own hands have returned to his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. You sigh when you feel him press his lips to your skin: once, twice, and a third time. I love you, these sleepy kisses mean. He does it again. I love you.

“Love you too, Cyno,” you mumble into his hair. “Sweet dreams, lovely.”

#i wrote the first draft at like 2am on a school night #needless to say i revised it many many times #ALSO what do u guys think of 'lovely' as a pet name #should i keep using it or no #that nickname is literally me baring my soul to the world #bc if i ever get into a relationship that is what i want to be called LMAO #nyxlea ✧ genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #cyno x reader #cyno fluff

[locallygrowndaikon]

Post therapy holiday short story about my ocs that i totally didnt just run through grammarly once and called it a day under cut!

“Woah,” Lark breathed out as he squints at the light reflecting off of the fields of white, “I’ve never seen it snow here in prairie before.”

The once-green fields were now covered in snowfall. The sun still shines down as it hangs in the clear sky but instead of warmth, the air still felt cold. Kari sifts their hand through the snow. It was still powdery, still fresh.

“That’s so cool!” Ness squeals in awe before running past Lark and throwing herself into the ground. Kari follows Eira as she walks up to Ness who’s rolled onto her back and started making snow angels.

A disgruntled voice comes from behind. “It’s too cold here now. The grass was better. And why are you wearing a sunhat in the cold? That’s weird,” Beefy releases a string of complaints as he stops next to Lark, looking down at Ness.

“It’s for the aesthetic! Not that you would know anything about that,” She throws back as she sits up while grabbing her hat defensively. The metaphorical camera pans to Beefy’s god-awful outfit consisting of too many expensive cosmetics thrown together. He just scoffs at Ness’ glare.

Ness stands up and brushes snow off of her pants. Beefy has his arms crossed as Ness approaches him. She lifts one of the capes Beefy has stacked up on him before she pulls out a white camera.

“Wha- Hey!” Beefy sputters as Ness examines the camera.

“I’ll be borrowing this, thanks,” Ness deadpans before taking off and flying away.

“DO YOU HOW MUCH THATS WORTH GET BACK HERE,” Beefy yells as he chases after Ness, leaving Lark, Eira, and Kari standing there in silence.

Lark takes a few steps forward and looks back with a smile that one would put up when dealing with young rowdy moths. “Sorry guys, I’m going to go make sure those two don’t get lost. I’ll be right back,” Lark says then runs off after Beefy, leaving just Eira and Kari standing in silence.

Kari kicks at the snow. “Lark knows some weird people, huh.”

Eira lets a small laugh at the comment. “Beefy scares me sometimes,” she replies. Kari silently agrees in their mind. They did not sign up for meeting Beefy when Lark had become their friend.

“I think the snow is pretty,” Eira changes the subject. Kari looks over at her.

“Really?”

“It reminds me of Valley of Triumph. I like the snow,” She says. Kari looks away. She did say that a long time ago when they were younger, didn’t she?

Kari kneels down in the snow without a word. Eira looks over Kari’s shoulder as they start scooping up snow in their hands and pressing it together into a small pile.

“Can I borrow your hair clip?” Kari asks, holding out their hand, waiting for Eira to agree, which Eira does. She puts the clip in their hand without much of a reaction. Kari flips the clip over in their hands. They had fiddled with this clip in their hands the first time they found it too. It really has been a while since then. Eira must’ve held it with so much guilt during the time they separated too.

Kari glances at Eira for a second to check her expression. It’s blank. She’s still looking at Kari, confused. Kari goes back to pressing snow together with the clip in their hand. They hope Eira doesn’t see their expression falter at the sour thoughts and picks up two small stones and sticks them in the crooked lump of snow they’ve made before sticking the harmony clip on too.

“It’s you,” Kari takes on a mischievous smile as they present the little wonky pile of snow that barely resembles a snowman. The only it has similarity to Eira that it has is the harmony clip that sits on the side of it. Eira covers her mouth as she chuckles and kneels next to it.

Kari watches as Eira makes her own little pile of snow, her pile becoming more of a flat pile than the one Kari made.

“Can I borrow the leaves on your antlers?” Eira asks, similar to how Kari asked earlier with her hand pointing at Kari’s withered antlers. Kari lowers their head and lets Eira pluck two leaves. She sticks the leaves on her little snow pile.

“It looks like bunny ears,” Kari notes. Eira smiles.

“It’s supposed to be you,” She says as she adds a bit more snow to the base of her Kari snowman, which also barely resembles Kari. The two take a seat back to admire their little snowman copies of each other. Kari wants to laugh at how bad the snow lumps look.

It’s quiet as the two sit there with their snow versions. Eira is the first to break the silence. “It’s nice, spending time with you again,” she says with her eyes on the snow. “I missed it.”

Kari’s expression falls. “I’m sorry.”

Eira looks up in shock at the sudden change in Kari’s tone. “I- No, it’s-“ she stutters, still taken aback from the sudden apology, “No, I didn’t mean that… that I’m talking about how we hurt each other, I just- I just think the moment we’re having right now is nice. I’m just glad we’re here together right now.”

“Oh,” Kari answers, still focusing on the snow rather than Eira.

Eira pulls her knees to her chest. “I’m glad we’re here now,” she repeats.

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad you’re still here with me after everything.”

Kari hums in response. Eira scoots closer to them.

“You’re still hung up in the past,” Eira states.

Kari grimaces. Eira didn’t sugarcoat it or talk around it. “It’s hard not to be. It’s hard not to think about it when I’m with you. Hatred is what most of my memories of you are. It doesn’t feel like long since we’ve become… friends again.”

Eira doesn’t say anything immediately. She sticks out her hand and pokes the snowman Kari made.

“I feel scared when I look at you sometimes too,” she returns. “I’m not used to this yet.” Kari keeps their face flat as they listen.

Eira continues to talk. “I hope it will change one day, so let’s keep making new memories together.”

Kari tries to wear a smile, hoping Eira doesn’t see through it. “Let’s keep making the good memories.”

Eira gives a similar smile back. Kari pokes at the snowmen too.

“Our snowmen copies of each other are kind of ugly,” Kari comments. Eira gives a real huff of laughter at this.

“I guess so,” Eira says fondly with a smile that doesn’t look as strained as before. Kari finds that their own smile is a bit easier to wear too.

Footsteps crunching in the snow sound behind them. Lark leans over the two sitting skykids. “I’m back, what are you guys do-“

Lark is promptly interrupted by Beefy being shoved into him and Ness pushing Beefy off to the side. Beefy regains footing and buts back in but Ness continues to try and push him.

“Are you making snowmen-“ Ness starts.

“-without us??” Beefy cuts in, pushing Ness back away. Ness screams for Lark to do something about the hooligan on the loose as Lark proceeds to ignore the chaos.

Lark sits down next to Eira. “Oh, these little guys look like you two!” He points out.

“Barely,” Kari smiles. Lark laughs in response. He starts lumping together snow and makes a small snowman with two coherent bolls of snow stacked on top of each other.

“That can be me then,” Lark proclaims as he dusts his hands free from snow. Kari squints at Lark’s snowman. It looks good for a snowman, but in terms of resembling Lark himself, Kari gives it 0 points. At least theirs and Eira’s sort of have their defining features. Lark catches on Kari’s judging stare. “It looks close enough to me,” he shrugs. Kari continues to disagree silently.

Ness finally pushes Beefy over and bends over Lark. “Oh, let me add myself in too! I'm joining the snowman gang,” she declared as Beefy held his knee while he limped over, cursing something about how Ness should stop aiming for the knees.

“What? Snowman gang?” Beefy asks as he finally catches up, “I bet my snowman’s gonna look the best.”

“There’s no way,” Ness states with a dead stare into Beefy. Lark definitely let out a sigh somewhere in the background. Kari personally finds the whole situation entertaining to watch as Beefy tries to make the largest pile of snow before sticking his party hat and sunglasses into the pile and calling it a day. Ness just makes a little snow bunny as she stares at Beefy’s “snowman” in disbelief.

Kari scoots closer to Eira as Beefy tries to preach about why his snowman is the best while Ness has never looked more distressed and Lark just acts as if this were another day. The Eira snow lump and the Kari snow pile were now surrounded by other friends' snowmen. Kari smiles without even realizing it.

Their snowmen look a lot less lonely now.

#sky cotl #sky children of the light #sky cotl oc #daikon’s sky ocs #writing #its like 2am rn help #i speed wrote this #do you know how hard it was not to spew about beefy every two sentences

[viridis-mundo]

City with no name, person with no history

A thousand years ago, Pix voluntarily went into the desert and never returned. A thousand years later, it still has consequences. A short look at friendships that span lives.

"You’ve been spending a lot of time here lately," Pix smiles, there is no claim, no hint of suspicion. The smile is soft, he is simply observing the fact. The sky is blue, the grass is green, the ancient city that Pix is working so hard on has no name. Fwhip has been spending a lot here lately.

It is the middle of summer, and the sun stands high and shines for a long time, making its way even underground to the goblins. Gobland is cooler than the surface, but everyone still works a little slower and a little lazier than usual. Fwhip decided to stop construction during the heat wave. However, when your hands are not busy with materials, it turns out, that he has too much free time.

"Are you against it?" almost escapes Fwhip, but something inside him is suddenly afraid - what if he really is against it? What if suddenly Pix will say that he is tired of the company and overall the goblin is getting under his feet? What if he suddenly leaves? Which is honestly hilarious. Pix may disappear for a day or two or even a week, but everyone knows that this man has simply buried himself again in some ancient hole and sighs in admiration over half-broken vases.

"Someone should make you warm up, old man, otherwise you’ll wither away like your precious artifacts," Fwhip grins, kindly, of course, and Pix laughs too, a little muffled, as if from afar. Fwhip is again overwhelmed by the feeling that Pix is going to disappear right now. Pix has always been... Fwhip doesn't want to use the word "weird" because it implies that everyone else was normal (which they weren't), but there was always something ELSE about Pix's presence. He will tell you a fact and then add something ELSE that he shouldn't know, he will ask you a question, but there is something ELSE in the question, but you don't know for sure what it is, you will say the answer and he will hear something ELSE, incomprehensible to you. And then he will smile again and for some reason, you will feel sad.

"As if I don’t have enough warming up without you, little children," he is only like maybe eight years older than Fwhip, but Pix again looks into the distance, at the restored castle, and in his eyes is the regret of an immortal. Fwhip resists the urge to grab Pix by the sandy (it's blue-gray) shirt, like a really small child afraid of losing a parent at the festival. "I do need some fresh air from time to time," Fwhip adds more quietly, still hoping to keep his voice light-hearted, but, judging by Pix’s look, failing catastrophically. Pix looks at him closely, but not as intensely as, for example, Scott, with his magic eye, or Gem, with the carefree attitude of a princess, but with hawk's sight. Pix’s gaze is soothing, like a heavy blanket after a nervous day, like a mug of warm milk before bed, like the quiet dance of stars in the night sky. And just as centuries ago, people looked at the sky and looked for constellations, so Pix is always looking for something in someone else’s soul. With the precision of an archaeologist, he unearths long-forgotten (or buried) emotions, and Fwhip has always taken this as a challenge.

I have nothing to hide! Here I am!

But today, under Pix's magnifying glass, something too forgotten turned out to be, something that Fwhip was not ready to face. This something had a taste of redstone, gunpowder, and for some reason sand. The sand got into his teeth, into his nose, into his eyes, and that’s probably why Fwhip found that his eyes were watering. He nuzzles his nose into Pix’s shirt (it’s blue-gray), and he smells of copper - he was working on the copper aging machine underground. And this smell also calms, but for some reason, the tears keep flowing and flowing.

"I’m not going anywhere," Pix says quietly, hugging Fwhip back. And there is no consolation in the voice, only a promise, as if he was going somewhere, but changed his mind. And Fwhip believes, he nods his head, as if agreeing with the decision, and holds Pix even tighter.

A thousand years ago, these same hands could not find a sand shirt to hug and cry into. A thousand years ago, Fwhip stood alone in the middle of a desert that stretched for thousands of miles around him and wept alone. A thousand years ago, Pix voluntarily disappeared into the desert. A thousand years ago his friend did not return.

"I'm here," Pix says again as Fwhip calms down under the setting sun. The night embraced friends.

#empires smp #empires s2 #pixlriffs #fwhip #empires pixlriffs #empires fwhip #immortal pixlriffs #gunpowder boys #i wrote it at like 2am #they just came to me honestly