#i haven’t written anything in a while

[twiisted-king]

✧ Gwen Stacy GF HC’s ✧

➟ Gwen Stacy / GN!Reader 🕸️🤍

➟ SFW ( she’s 16 you sick fucks )

➟ TW : Depression mentions & Injuries/Blood ( It’s fairly fluffy <3 )

————————————————————————

— At first, Gwen didn’t think that she had a crush on you. She denied it up and down even though it was abundantly obvious y’all had chemistry.

— She was Spider-Woman! She didn’t have time for relationships and all the unnecessary parts of life.

— It was frustrated Gwen to hell and back just trying to ignore her feelings. She would avoid you at school, take extra long patrols, anything to get you off her mind.

— Until you started noticing how she had been avoiding you. I don’t think Gwen is the best at processing her emotions and when you confront her about it she sort of breaks down in a way. She apologizes for ignoring you then quickly decides to just give up the ghost and confess.

— Poor Gwen is standing there, smiling awkwardly at you and convincing herself you are absolutely going to reject her. Until you don’t and then she nearly has a heart attack on the spot.

— Gwen definitely gets better at being a girlfriend as time progresses. She always leaves little notes for you, texts you whenever she can, and bring you your favorite snacks. Gwen’s love language is definitely Acts of Service and Quality Time.

— You’re craving ice cream at 12 o’clock at night? Good because she is to and she’s already out the door to the nearest gas station.

— However, one thorn in the relationship is the fact that she’s Spider-Woman. It gets harder to make excuses for why she’s covered in bruises and limping all the time. Maybe she should tell you? But what if you leave her or worse hate her for keeping such a big secret !? Gwen is definitely overthinking everything.

— Her secret is revealed one day when you unexpectedly come over to her apartment one day just as she’s crawling into the window in costume. Y’all have a little staring contest before she has to take off the mask because why the hell would Spider-Woman be crawling in your girlfriend’s window at 10 O’clock at night?

— Gwen definitely cries. Apologizing profusely and begging you not to tell her dad about any of this. Instead, you just hug her and she realizes that you aren’t mad at her. She answers any questions you have though is somewhat hesitant since she doesn’t want you getting dragged into any of it. Her first priority is making sure you are safe and no one finds out you’re Spider-Woman’s S/O.

— She takes you to your place of choice as an apology just to be extra EXTRA sure you aren’t mad at her.

— You patch up Gwen’s wounds all the time. Few words are spoke once the med kit comes out and she is grateful to have someone who is willing to deal with her crimefighting BS. Being a superhero can be super depressing and you are always there to be a shoulder for her to lean on.

— On a slightly more happy note, Gwen would love to teach you how to play the drums! It’s pretty adorable to see her get so excited about something she’s passionate about.

— Gwen always tries to get you something for your birthday. She’ll save up months in advance so she can get the perfect gift and take mental notes of what you like. She tried to make a cake one year .. that didn’t turn out well so she just bought one instead.

— She’ll let you borrow her clothes if you want and won’t say anything if it never appears in her closet again.

— I do think her dad would be supportive of the relationship. It’s a little awkward the first time y’all have dinner together, but George Stacy is fairly chill once you get to know him. This man makes shitty dad jokes though and tells embarrassing childhood stories about Gwen to you.

— SO many pictures of you. Not even just on her phone but also hung up around her room. It’s kind of cute how flustered she gets when you point out her phone wallpaper of y’all.

— Late night talks on rooftops. Gwen finds being outside relaxing and she’ll make a whole set up so you two can stargaze.

— Called you “ Babygirl “ as a joke once now it’s a running gag.

— She finds cursed images / 3 AM humor to be the absolute peak of comedy and sends the dumbest shit to you.

— She wanted to show off her webs to you once then proceeded to accidentally get your foot stuck to a wall and THEN got herself stuck trying to help.

— Movies dates are common and she’ll purposely pick out the worst ones so she can give commentary. Twilight was an absolute rollercoaster for her.

— Builds a cute little house in Minecraft for y’all to live in please just ignore the fact it has no roof and the floors are made of dirt.

— And the best girlfriend of the year award goes to Gwen Stacy :)

[r-kaye]

necessity (continued)

They had started sleeping in the same bed out of necessity, or at least that was what they both claimed. When 47 had started work on his new safe house, he hadn’t seen a reason for having a second bedroom. It was only him. He never would have imagined that Diana would turn up, bags in tow, and stay. It had taken him a long time to realize she intended to stay. He had spent the first week sleeping in the den, insisting that he couldn’t let her sleep on the couch, but she was obstinate that he not be displaced from his own bed in his own house. 

“Really, 47, I don’t see why we can’t share a bed,” she had finally declared, crossing her arms in a way he had learned meant she was either about to make a good point or just get her way. “A king size bed has enough room for both of us.”

The first night had been nerve wracking for him, his stomach in knots as he brushed his teeth for a second time, prolonging his night routine. Diana had already gotten in bed, and he couldn’t imagine what to do or say once he left the bathroom. There was no script, intel, or past experience for him to rely on. He had no role to play; there was only 47. He finally steeled himself, striding out of the bathroom like he always did. Diana had been sitting against the headboard, under the comforter, a book open with her reading glasses perched on her nose. He had stopped in his tracks at the sight of her, hair down around her shoulders, shining like fire in the light of the lamp on the bedside table. She was wearing one of his sweatshirts, an old Oxford one that he was fairly certain she had gifted him after visiting Victoria years before. She had closed her book, looking up at him with a soft smile. He would have done anything if she kept smiling at him like that. She sat the book on the table, then patted the other side of the bed. 

He wasn’t one to disobey her.

[switchyfox]

By the time your eyes close

The city's whispers tickle your ears

You don't understand a word

You don't see a thing

But you feel

You feel

And you feel

You can't pretend that you're dead

No matter how hard you try

Something inside pushes you to the world

And the world welcomes you back

Time after time

[planetxiao]

koi and i have been brainrotting over college aus all morning jdbdjd she’s got me thinking about reo being your tutor again

[0h-the-guilt]

Sometimes people come back for a reason.

When they do, and things go right, everything that happened to separate you two doesn’t seem to matter.

When someone is supposed to be in your life, they always make their way back.

That fight, boy, falling out that separated you two, seems to be worked out.

People who come back in your life are there for a reason if you believe in it.

[dastardly-dyke]

You had never been much of a spiritual, nor were you a mystic. Perhaps that’s why you ignored the thing calling out to you for so long.

It started out as a whisper. You had just left the office for your daily commute home when you heard it first. It wasn’t a human voice, no. You heard an amalgamation of voices, all speaking in a whispy unison. It crawled up your spine and into your ear, making you shiver with the feeling of being watched.

Come to me, it said. I will keep you safe.

Assuming that it was your coworkers playing a prank on you, you had simply shaken your head in confusion and gone home. When you heard it as you woke up the next morning, however, you chalked it up to some sort of auditory hallucination.

Somewhere around a week after the whispers began, they stopped. The whispers were replaced by shrill shrieking, a chilling cluster of screams begging for you to come home, you’re mine, can’t you see it? You have always been meant for me, so come home!

Perhaps the screeching was what made you decide to listen. It felt as though a string was connected to your chest, pulling you towards the voices you heard and leading you into their embrace. It terrified you— these voices, whatever they belonged to, were clearly leading you somewhere. But what terrified you more than that was that you found yourself not minding it.

The screams should have been horrifying. They sounded like a thousand souls dying painfully, and yet they washed over you like a gentle summer breeze. With every howl of come home, you are mine! you felt yourself almost comforted, like wherever this thing resided really was home. And that scared you. It was doing something to your mind, surely.

Even so, you followed the pull of the string wrapped around your heart. It was golden, you would imagine— golden and warm, like the way the agonizing screams made you feel.

You found yourself buying tickets to Crete, of all places— the tiny Greek island that you barely remembered from a few stories in your high school English classes. When you boarded the plane, the voices acted up again. Yes, come home! I will embrace you the way no one ever has. You were made to be with me, little one. You are doing so very well. Come home.

The second that you stepped foot on the soil of Crete, you knew something was different. A shivering jolt of something warm shot up your back, and you swore you could feel the moment your pupils dilated. This was right, this was good. This was what you needed. You had never felt more alive in your life.

When you felt the familiar tug at your chest, you followed it eagerly. You wandered through the streets, allowing yourself to be pulled into a rural area that you could not navigate. In the center of the field, lay a trapdoor. You opened it, and the voices coiled around your throat like a deadly yet loving snake. You are home. I love you. I will hold you and you do not need to worry. You are home.

As you crawled through the door and entered the moss-ridden halls of what could only be a maze, you felt dazed and sleepy. At first, you believed yourself to simply be out of energy, as your feet dragged when you walked. At some point, however, you realized that the ground itself was wrapping around your ankles like you were something to be claimed.

You felt so warm, so complete in these halls. A labyrinth, you believed places like these were called. The voices had returned to a whisper, now. My beloved is home. There is no need to scream, anymore.

You let your head fall back, your gaze landing on the simple stone ceiling.

“Hello.”

You felt strangely at peace, as if you were being embraced by an old friend rather than the cold, damp earth.

Hello, little one, the voices murmured. You are mine.

“I am.” You whispered, not doubting it to be true. You had never felt more soothed than you did under the ground, here in this place.

You are my beloved.

You could tell that this labyrinth was something ancient, something far beyond your initial comprehension. You vaguely remembered a myth about a boy and a bull-man, both winding through a labyrinth made to destroy one and contain the other.

The instant you thought of your labyrinth as the very same maze from the myths, you knew it to be true. It felt so right, so perfect. But the labyrinth was old, so very old. That, you knew.

“If I am your beloved, will you stay with me?”

The earth that covered your feet coiled around your calves with a shudder.

No. I have had many beloveds. Mortal lives are so very short, so small next to me. But I will not forget you. I remember them all. You will be mine as you are alive, until your skin grows wrinkled and your movements grow slow. And you will be mine when you die, and your bones will forever be cradled in my embrace.

You nodded slowly and traced the wall of the labyrinth with a gentle fingertip. The being shuddered, the walls briefly convulsing as if they were breathing softly.

“Then I will be yours.”

It was right.

I see you, mortal. I have seen every hope and dream, every bruise and every sob. I love you, mortal. I love you in a way that you do not understand, but you are mine to love. You will not be forgotten. One day, your skeleton will be held deep within me, and your spirit will greet the next beloved to enter these walls.

You leaned your head against the stone bricks, and the walls shuddered once more.

“I think I love you, too.”

And you did. You could not explain it, but you did. There was something about this place that seeped through every pore, infiltrating your mind and flowing through your veins until you lived and breathed it.

The earth underneath you moved to cradle you, sweeping you off of your feet and lulling you softly, as if you were in a rocking chair. Your eyes drooped. You were unsure of if you would ever wake up, but you found yourself uncaring.

One day, your body would decay within these walls. But you were loved, and you would not be forgotten.

Enough homoeroticism about the Minotaur! It’s time to sexualize the labyrinth.

[purrfectlycontent]

one day i’ll write a yoohan fic… one day….

[somelittleplacebetweenthestars]

a moment: i sit exhausted at my tram stop. it is night, and my mouth is dry, but i know my water bottle is full of cool water. across the road a thousand people live lives in a single skyscraper; and the lights are on in all of them

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Get Souped!

[salt-n-salt]

the sudden influx of sdv fics im seeing from moots and just seeing in general is changing something within me .. do i dare attempt to write a shane fic that encapsulates the weariness of both his aging body and plummeting mental health on top of the recurring reminder of the deaths of his two best friends and how the guilt he has no reason to feel cripples him and how horribly ill-equipped he is to care for a child who he can’t look at without being reminded of them. hm.

[doodoobirds]

Been busy with thinking alot but I have drawings that I want to post so maybe I’ll post tmrw

I have asks about my hcs and they got me thinking about writing my headcanons in story format than just a small brief paragraph, like my silly hc that Kevin resurrected Boo 9 with a cursed amulet cause she wanted to impress her witch crush. I really want to go in depth with my hcs 😵‍💫

[voidsuites]

coming soon to tumblr dot com slash voidsuites…

[dominicfrederik]

yes, it’s research!

procrastinating on my wips by reading and claiming it's basically studying

[jensen-frackles]

it’s wild how I’ve developed a hyperfixation on jeffrey combs over the span of like two nights

[inquisitor-apologist]

Have we, as a fandom, progressed to the point that we can realize that Twilight of the Apprentice, while a good episode, is not a particularly great Rebels episode and is certainly the least functional finale in the entirety of Rebels?

[songtwo]

on the bright side i’ve been meaning to write a piece on something that isn’t music related for this magazine that only accepts like social pieces and this gave me the perfect idea to pitch something i have so much to say