#NO IT DOESNT

[sophios-draws]

the big G

alts under cut (⚠️eyestrain)

[sockdooe]

I don’t know if maybe it’s just me, but is anyone else seeing a rise of people claiming that they could do a better rewrite of Voltron and then immediately say they’d make K/L cannon or Adash/ canon?

I don’t know about anyone else but I genuinely don’t think making ships canon would make the show better.

In fact I think It’d make it worse.

And considering shiro isn’t even mentioned in these and if he is it’s just to be Keith dad…. Is telling.

[a-cat-in-toffee]

there isnt any context for this one

[lesbospirk]

Do female vulcans go through pon farr? Asking for a friend

[skizz-that-man]

i am so desperate for the "Hermitcraft and Life Series RPF" tag to become a thing that i literally went through nearly 80 of my bookmarks to tag them with that

i would prefer to have a fandom tag but i just want to have a community somehow okay. i just want to have some tag that people can use to find each other's fic. please

[shadow-von-vamp]

i think if you find it inherently wrong for a man to have girl friends when he’s also in a romantic relationship with a girl you’re the problem actually

[tangledinink]

sobs. there are so many things i still wanted to draw today but i am... so high.

[delusioncorner]

Knock at the Window

(Spider-Man x Reader)(T)

Whilst studying for a big final exam, you hear a knock coming from your bedroom window...which is weird because you live on the 5th floor of an apartment building. Who on earth could that be?

(This is kind of long and maybe a bit shit but I wrote it because I lowkey miss school)

-

The words begin to blur for the seventh time since I've started the tedious- and albeit very stupid- task of pulling an all-nighter for the exam I have tomorrow morning at exactly 7:30 in the morning. Hard, heavy blinks start to plague my eyes and I thought very briefly that I was going to lose this battle that I was fighting with my sleep. I sigh and close my eyes tight, taking deep breaths in and out, in and out, in and out.

When I open my eyes again I look towards the clock hanging on my wall and feel a sense of dread crawl up my spine. 3:45am. Another sigh escapes my lips and my heart begins to race. It's almost 4 in the morning, my exam- that my entire career depends on- is in 3 and a half hours, and I've barely read through half the notes I've taken in preparation for this goddamned test. My eyes start to well with tears and a sense of helplessness fills me rapidly. I've just been so busy the past couple of days with work, school, and my internship at Alchemex. Everything I do combines into one long event that starts at 6am and ends at about 9pm and the times I do have a small break I spend it with Peter. I know I should be focusing on my studies especially with the end of the year staring me right in the face and the promise of grad school welcoming me with its new and exciting embrace but I can't help it.

Peter Parker is in the Bio-Chemistry class I'm taking this semester- the class that I'm attempting to study for at the moment. He's one of the smartest people I've ever met and the depth in which he understands such complex theories will always astound me. I could have been studying with Peter and I honestly should have since he is quite the talented student but I can't focus on anything but him when he's around. It's quite the hopeless predicament I've found myself in. I'd like to think he shares the same feelings for me as I do him but every time I think something is about to happen between us he has to leave. It's happened too often for it to be a coincidence.

Today was a perfect example of that very thing happening. Peter and I were walking through the campus courtyard from our shared class, side-by-side, our hands brushing as we admired the cherry blossoms with their maroon-colored leaves. We talked aimlessly for what seemed like hours but were in reality only a few minutes before we reached the the grand fountain located in the middle of the school. We sat there and spoke, getting closer to one another as the minutes passed, until our hands overlapped. He said something that made me laugh and after I had settled our eyes locked and I felt my upper body leaning toward him like we were magnets, destined to connect. I looked at him through my lashes and tilted my head. I needed to feel his lips against mine. I needed us to feel one another. I needed him to need me just as much as I needed him. Just as our lips almost met...his phone went off and he was gone, running away frantically almost like he was awakened from a trance. I had no choice but to watch him leave.

I texted him before I started my slow descent into madness and I've still yet to receive a text back. I feel sick to my stomach. Recounting that memory combined with my sleep deprivation has turned my stomach in a way I hadn't been expecting. Standing, I carefully stretch and drink a bit of water because I am not about to throw up at- I glance over at the clock again- 4 in the morning.

Great. I managed to kill 15 minutes drooling over Peter. Could I get any more paths-

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I still. Was it my door? It couldn't be. My roommates are all sleeping. Walking over to my door, I open it anyway. Greeted with nothing, I turn to retreat into my room and before I get the chance to close my door I hear another sound.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

The tapping transitioned into harder, heavier knocks. They sound frantic. I know it's not my door this time so I turn to my window. My curtain-shrouded, no-fire-escape-having, 5th-story window.

"Dude, there's literally no way that knocking is coming from my window right now."

A gruff, strained, and slightly muffled voice comes from right outside the window. "Please. Please open the window." It's a man. I hesitate briefly but decide that if someone is truly outside my window right now, then it must be someone...interesting and I've always been a curious person. I close my door and saunter towards my window. Dread is filling me once again but I punch it down. I'll just take a small peek and if it's like the Green Goblin or some other nefarious ne'er-do-weller then I'll simply accept my fate and die.

...Yeah. Yeah, that's what my options are. I either die or...some other second option. Hopefully, option number two is better than death. So, which will it be?'

I reach the window and slightly move the curtain to reveal Spider-Man. The Spider-Man. Even though I couldn't see his entire body I saw enough. I saw his bright red and blue suit. I saw one of his gloved hands and I saw a sliver of his other hand clutching his side. His back was against the wall of my building, almost as if he were glued to it. Spider-Man is a good man. He helps the city and he totally fought some giant dude dressed as a rhinoceros last week who threatened to do something dastardly to the town so I think I would be okay if I let him in. Plus, it seems like he's injured and I'm not a monster. I glance at the clock once more- it reads 4:10- before I rip open my window.

As quickly as I open the window, Spider-Man is through it, and closing the window behind him with just as much speed, then he slunks against my wall in a boneless heap. His breaths are heavy and small helpless whines escape his mask-shrouded lips. I tell him that I'll be back and swiftly leave my room, closing the door behind me, and running down the hallway to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. When I return, Spider-Man is away from the window and slumped over in my desk chair.

"Thanks for letting me in. Also sorry for getting blood on your rug maybe? I don't know actually, I didn't really pay attention." He's rambling. He's distracting himself from the pain, I can tell. He continues, "You really just went right to work, didn't you? No 'Hi' or 'Woah! Spider-Man? What a silly thing that's happening right now,' you just up and got a...first aid kit? Thanks but I'm okay. It's just a flesh wound."

"You're bleeding a lot. One could even use the word profusely. I don't know what kind of weird business you have going on but I can just...I don't know? Stitch you up? My mom was a nurse and she taught me a few basics on how to fix up small wounds." I open the first aid kit as I babble on. The room is beginning to smell like iron and I feel lightheaded. He begrudgingly agrees after I beg him to let me help and I thank him. He lets me gently lift the top of his suit and I get to it. I feel sick and as he hisses in pain as the needle digs into his skin, I can't help but also feel sorry for the pain I'm causing him.

He goes on to comfort me as I finish stitching him. He keeps up a nice banter with me, making jokes and asking me other questions about my hobbies, and soon enough I'm tying up the last stitch and taping a bandage over the wound. I take a deep breath and ask him if he's hurt anywhere else. He says no but I still do a quick check. I cannot be responsible for the demise of New York's favorite web-slinger all because I was reckless. I didn't realize it but I said that part out loud. He started to laugh. His low laugh turned into a loud booming fit of hysterics and I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my lips.

He seems so familiar but I can't pinpoint it. I'm so comfortable with this man that I've just met. I blame it on the fact that he's a well-known vigilante who helps others but the whole time we were talking, I couldn't help but compare him to Peter. Their mannerisms and humor are so similar that it seems like they could be the same people but that's such a far-fetched theory that I swept it from my mind as quickly as it entered.

More minutes passed and I accepted the fact that I'd probably fail this test. Maybe, if I play my cards right, I could convince my professor to let me take it again? Say I developed nasty stomach flu or maybe I'll say my mother is in the hospital. He doesn't know she's dead so no harm no foul. Spider-Man and I discuss everything from star signs to the best delis in the area. Our tones get softer and I feel a wave of calm wash over me for the first time in 3 days. A yawn escapes my lips and I accept defeat. I'll email my professor when I wake up. Hopefully, he's understanding.

Spider-Man also seems to have reached his limits. He stands and stretches his arms over his head, groaning obnoxiously in the same way Peter does. Spider-Man thanks me for my help and for the conversation but mentions how he has something to do soon and should probably leave. I don't want him to leave. I find myself wanting to keep him. A courage that I am unfamiliar with strikes my body and suddenly I'm reaching for his mask. I rest my hands on his cheeks as a silent question. Can I? He nods slowly and suddenly there I am, in the middle of my bedroom at who-knows-when, peeling the bottom part of his mask up, stopping just below his nose. I sway forward and all at once, we're kissing.

It's brief, almost as if it was a thank you. A thank you to him for helping me relax in my state of study-induced panic and maybe a thank you from him for helping him? For showing him kindness? Whatever the thanks was for didn't matter, so long as I felt it. When we parted, he pulled his mask down and walked towards the window, opening it, and preparing to disappear into the night. I spoke up one last time.

" Why did you come to my window? Seems pretty random, no?"

He simply looks over his shoulder and says, "Because I knew you'd open the window." And just like that he's gone and I'm left to ponder.

He knew I'd open the window?

[cerealcruncherr]

the GRIND…. fears @robo-boy

[999nigga]

lychee

[short-and-ugly]

this, too, has a secret meaning

[kali-lamb]

You should go to the forest and talk to the tv

you know? that seems like a good idea

[plumbob-pudding]

After many long hugs and a few tears, Willie and Oliver sat down to have the long overdue discussion.

Willie listened heavy-hearted as Oliver expressed how he and the others had felt abandoned. "We lost Momma," he said, "but we also lost you."

Willie didn't know what to say to that. Sure, he was grieving, but that excuse fell flat even to him; he knew he ought to have been there for his children-Lillian would've. He tearfully apologised to Oliver and swore to apologise to Bertie, Lucy and Nellie one day. He wasn't expecting immediate forgiveness of course, but he wanted a relationship with his children again.

After what felt like hours of crying, Willie offered to take Oliver for a ride to cheer them up. In his cowboy heyday, he'd imagined doing this with his sons. Perhaps they would follow in his footsteps he used to think, but as he watched Oliver struggle on Potatoes, he knew that was very unlikely. Still, that didn't matter anymore, he finally had his son back.

[nickbutnodick]

i need people to compliment my art 'n stuff so i can feel good about it but when people compliment my art 'n stuff i always feel bad

[floofballsammy]

YALL I'M EXCITED FOR THE FNAF MOVIE.

HAVE ME REDRAWING THE POSTER.

[residentrookie]

i think a lot of the time i look sort of frumpy (ie. not put together in the slightest, bumming the absolute hardest from day to day) but when i do put effort into like styling my hair it still never looks like i actually fucking tried. the humidity in georgia does not allow for me to straighten my curly hair and get away with it, it simply does not.