#probably only doing this because its late and i have no inhibitions rn

[alinakerrin]

June Prompt: Fairytale

So it’s 4 am here, and I got smacked with inspiration thanks to @creativepromptsforwriting‘s June prompts, so here’s a tf2 short I did. It’s from a superhero AU I’m working on, so here:

It was ironic that Heavy was a light sleeper. He had always struggled to sleep, even as a boy; the creaking from the house, the howling wind, even the sound of his sisters’ breathing—all of it kept him awake. So it was no surprise that the gentle sound of crying from Pyro’s room woke him instantly.

At first he thought maybe Pyro wasn’t crying; maybe they were giggling quietly. They often found joy in the smallest of things, and it wasn’t out of the question that they might be playing with their stuffed toys at night.

But as it continued, he knew he had been right the first time. His older brother instinct took over, and he was walking down the hall before he realised what he was doing. As gently as he could—not wanting to wake anyone else—he knocked on the door.

The crying stopped instantly.

“Pyro?” He said, “Can I come in?”

There was a quiet shuffling noise, then, the door opened, and he saw Pyro hiding their face behind a giant stuffed unicorn that they clutched to their chest. They had a bright pink onesie on—one that matched the unicorn they clutched—and the hood was pulled up, further obscuring their face.

“Are you alright?” He said, placing his hand on their shoulder. They clutched the toy harder.

“I’m sorry…” They whimpered, their usually hoarse voice even harsher, thin and strained.

“No need, solnyshko,” he said, pulling them in for a hug, “You are sad? Can I help?”

Pyro looked at him over the top of the unicorn. “Aren’t you tired?”

“No.” Heavy lied, “Couldn’t sleep.”

Not a full lie technically.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, solnyshko. You want to talk about it?”

Pyro bit their lip, then beckoned him into their room. It wasn’t one Heavy had been in before, but it was definitely what he imagined. Everything was pastel; the sheets, the curtains, the carpet, the furniture, along with most of the clothes strewn across the floor. In one of the corners, a heater was on full blast, drastically increasing the temperature. Pyro curled up on the bed, still clutching the unicorn. Heavy carefully stepped over the landmines of toys and clothes on the floor, and sat next to them.

“What is wrong?” Heavy said, when Pyro didn’t immediately start talking, “Did someone hurt you?”

Pyro shook their head. There was a brief moment, while they gathered their thoughts.

“You’re from ‘Ussa, right?”

“Russia, yes,” Heavy corrected gently. Their grip tightened on the plushie.

“Do you miss it?”

Heavy hummed, thinking hard, “Not quite… I am very happy here—happier than I have been in a long time—but sometimes I think of Russia and I miss something. I think, I do not miss Russia: I miss how things used to be.”

Pyro was looking at him, wide-eyed.

“Why do you ask solnyshko? Do you miss home?”

Pyro nodded. Heavy smiled at them kindly.

“Is alright to miss home, is ok to feel sad.” He paused for a moment, before adding, “Talking can help. And if there is something I can do, I would like to help.”

Pyro thought for a moment, “I like it here too. I like unicorns, onesies, and sweets. I like my friends. I like sleeping. But sometimes I can’t… sometimes I think about home and I get sad. I miss my elects…”

“Elects?” Heavy asked.

“Um… I don’t know the human word… they made me?” “Oh, they are your parents?”

“Do parents make you?”

“Sometimes. Some parents just take care of babies others made.” Pyro looked enthralled by this concept, but Heavy spoke again before they could divert the conversation too much, “You miss your ‘elects’. I miss mine too.” “Really?”

“Really. Miss my father most.”

“Why?”

“He is dead.”

“Oh,” Pyro looked like they were about to cry all over again.

“Is alright. He died protecting me and sisters. Was a good man.”

“It’s still sad though.”

“Yes… but that’s ok. Being sad is not a bad thing. Sometimes you have to be sad. But if you would like to feel better, maybe I can help. Is there something your elects did when you were sad?”

“Um… they would tell me stories a lot. About things they did.”

Heavy hummed, “Would you like me to tell you a story? I do not have many of my own, but humans make lots of stories.”

“How many?”

“Too many to count! I love to read stories, but even I have not read everything. I could live as long as you and still not read it all.”

“Woah,” Pyro said, “Could you tell me one? Pretty please?”

“Of course. Get into bed, and I will tell you a story my father told me.” Heavy said, as Pyro scrambled under the covers, “Ready? Ok. Once upon a time in a faraway land, there lived a mighty tsar. The pride of the tsar’s kingdom was a magnificent orchard, second to none. However, every night a firebird, with golden feathers and eyes like crystal, would swoop down…”

Heavy recited the story as best he could—translating it into English as he tried to remember the details. Pyro seemed enraptured by his every word, they looked shocked when the prince was killed and relieved when he came back to life, and was overjoyed when he and the princess were married in the end.

“And they lived happily ever after.” Heavy finished. “How was that?”

“That was super cool!” Pyro stage-whispered, “Humans have more stories like that?”

Heavy chuckled, “Humans have lots of stories. Stories like that one, stories that are very different. There’s lots to choose from.”

“Can you…” Pyro trailed off, until Heavy gestured for them to continue, “Can you tell me some more, sometime?”

“Of course, solnyshko. I will tell you bedtime stories.”

Their bright smile was almost worth the exhaustion Heavy felt the next day.

[bakerysnake]

Apricot, blue, carrot, cherry, emerald, jade, lapis, lemon, magenta, navy, pink, red, rust, turquoise, & vermillion?

apricot: where would you like to travel? tbh my ideal vacation would be exploring my own city, every single nook and cranny, from the tourist attractions to the amazing restaurants in the middle of nowhere but since i have to travel and go somewhere else, i'd go to denmark in the winter around my birthday and see what it was like then (i'm gonna eat lots of pastries like my mom did >:D)

blue: seaside or forest? hmm seaside i think

carrot: favourite class you’ve ever taken? this year, english, i love love love my teacher, he's definitely the best teacher i've ever had

cherry: what’s your favorite type of art? writing, bc i can learn from it, enjoy it and pick up little nuances i wouldn't have been able to if i was viewing other types of art

emerald: what’s your favorite article of clothing that you own? these baggy jeans my dad bought me that go with pretty much every top i own :D

ginger: black and white or color? colour (ehehe i just had to /lh)

gold: do you wear jewelry?

green: do you like pastels?

jade: what is your favorite movie?

lapis: do you have a favourite stone/gem? do pearls count? i've always loved them and emeralds, very pretty <3

lemon: what do you do for fun? talk to my brother or walk around with neighbourhood friends. considering all the things i do in my free time/procrastination time, being with these people is the only one that always always makes me feel like :DD

magenta: favourite memory? i've got two for you! i was in my old house and it was storming. everything was painted in shades of black and gray, no colours to be seen. i stood outside on the balcony getting drenched and feeling a kind of joy that's like letting go of your inhibitions and truly living in the moment it had been a long day and i was going to sleep pretty late. i felt restless and apathetic, like i wanted to feel something very badly and i hadn't felt anything worth looking back on in months. i looked out my window to see a golden light on the balcony of the next building, and it filled me with hope. i felt like i did back in 7th grade when i spent most of my time daydreaming and didn't have to worry about wasting my time that way. i felt creative, like an artist, like i could shape life with my hands and direct its flow. i still cherish that feeling a lot, it's one of my faves

navy: if you could live anywhere, where would you want to live? canada, because i've heard a lot of good things about it, an aunt of mine lives there, and one of my irls says she'd like to live in canada again too (she used to live there as a kid)

pink: what’s your dream job? psychotherapist <33

orange: do you believe in magic?

pink: what’s your dream job?

red: what’s your favourite song? i don't really know, i've got a lot of songs i like and there's no real favourite rn. my go to for this question is can't we just leave the monster alive? by txt but i'm pretty sure i already told you (and i haven't listened to it in months) maybe young robot by dance gavin dance?

rust: what is your favourite flower? i like irises, marigolds and hibiscuses! oh also orchids and monkey face petunias ^w^

turquoise: do you like to sing? kind of, i don't like singing with people who'll tell me i sound bad but i love singing on my own or fooling around with karaoke

vermilion: what would you do if you got a million dollars? there's a post somewhere here about how you can save your million dollars, help those who need it and do a bunch of other stuff, so i'd look through that post carefully and then do the stuff it says ^w^ and probably save for post grad college since i wanna study psychology outside india

[ofdcnte-blog]

                me: is struggling to exist rn ?? i’m .. so in awe of how amazing this lil group looks & i’m so BLESSEDT to be a part of it .. anyway, hello ! i’m claire, i’m seventeen ( for like .. three more weeks ! ), i use she/they pronouns but honestly, i’d respond to anything & i live in australia ! i’m a college student who loves suffering, criminal minds, skam & purple prose, & tbh i am an absolute mess. anyway, this is my .. my nasty trash son DANTE VALENTINO, & he’s literally more of a mess than i am. ( also, i’m a mess for pretty rp icons ?? i love gifs but icons are my dang thing. )

TRIGGER WARNINGS : drug mentions. alcohol mentions.

( SAMUEL LARSEN, CISMALE, HE/HIM ) — around the 708, everyone knows who DANTE VALENTINO is. you know them, don’t you ? he is the twenty year old philosophy student who is always blasting sympathy for the devil by the rolling stones on his way home to the WEST SIDE. their fellow chicagoans call them bellicose, but at least they’re phlegmatic, right ? sable midnight, frigid breeze & the blinking amber of a dying cigarette ; preach your heart out, but the words of the junkie philosopher fall upon deaf ears. leather jackets, slit jeans, bloody noses & trembling hands, aslant smirk that begs to discover the darkest secrets of filthy souls. they say the devil is gorgeous but the devil doesn’t have a thing on him ; the devil doesn’t have sanguine petals that taste like sin & salvation, the devil doesn’t smell like jack daniels & cheap cologne — – intoxicating, intoxication. bitten nails & messy hair, sultry syllables & the loss of your own inhibitions & he’ll be damned if he remembers your name, but you’ll choke on his. steer clear of pretty rings on pretty boys, they call him casanova meets don corleone for a goddamned reason.

so, he’s literally a mess. literally the biggest goddamn mess.

he’s mexican, spanish, persian & danish --- he gets the mexican & the spanish from his father, & the persian & the danish from his mother. if anyone asks, he just shrugs & tells them he’s a melting pot.

he was born to teenage parents who didn’t quite know what to do with him besides give him up. put into foster care before he could even walk, dante was quickly snatched up by a lovely, middle-class, midwestern couple. they flew all the way from their native michigan to adopt him. ( it’s a decision they later came to regret. )

his adoptive father, jonathan, was a pastor, & his adoptive mother, caroline, was the absolute definition of a pta mom. they both invested their entire beings into dante ; caroline attended every single assembly, was involved in everything possible & jonathan showed an open interest in his son’s life. they gave him everything he could ever want, & he was raised in the absolute lap of luxury but it didn’t take him long to fall into the wrong crowd.

high school was a turbulent time in dante’s life, if he’s completely honest. he fell into a crowd that got its kicks off of alcohol, drugs & petty theft ; by the time he was sixteen, he had been in prison for arson, petty theft, driving under the influence, driving without a license, possession of drugs .. you name a misdemeanour, he probably has it on his record. he has a rap sheet longer than his armspan, for fuck’s sake. naturally, caroline & jonathan worried but dante shut them out ; he’d hardened up to their gentle advances, & believed, in typical rebellious teenage fashion, that he knew best. night after night, he’d stumble home drunk, or high, or a combination of the two, & there was only one thing they could do : they told dante, in no uncertain terms, that he’d be kicked out of the house at eighteen, once he was no longer under their legal guardianship. he had become a strain on their marriage, 

leaving home at eighteen was probably one of the best, and most dangerous, decisions of his life. he left his comfortable ( albeit tense ), suburban life in michigan for the hustle & bustle of chicago, & easily found ( read: fucked ) his way into university. he settled on philosophy, because it seemed like a solid decision at the time. ( mind you, he was drunk when he made that decision. ) he genuinely enjoys philosophy though, he finds it wonderfully fascinating & thinks he’s awfully clever for knowing all these philosophical & metaphysical concepts.

he polished himself up when he moved, tbh. he lost the whole gang vibe, & kind of became what he is today : the devil, but in leather & prettier. he’s honest to god the worst. his aesthetic kind of says it all, tbh ? greasy trash king, tbh. should probably get checked.

personality-wise, he’s incredibly charming to those he wants something out of but otherwise, he’s the coldest bastard you could ever dream of meeting. he’s cold, calculating, sadistic, cruel, vindictive .. he’s a messy bitch. he is the absolute worst. if he wants something out of you, he’ll make you feel like the only person in the entire world. he’ll treat you like you’re actual royalty, but as soon as he’s done with you he’s glacial. he has a string of exes & one-night-stands who absolutely hate him, & he’s perfectly okay with that.

he lives in an apartment that he only got because he fucked the super, & it’s probably the worst apartment in the whole of chicago but he figures it’s better than being homeless. he barely pays rent, but when he does it’s three weeks late & he has to sweet-talk ( read: dirty-talk ) the super into letting him stay & it always works, because he’s fucking trash like that.

ngl, he still drinks like a goddamn fish & smokes like a chimney, & he has a taste for whatever drugs he can get his nasty little hands on. ( he’s not addicted to any particular one, per se, but he’ll use all of them. he’s not fond of heroin, but it does its job. ) he’s still a disgusting pickpocket & a bit of a thief, but it gets him by.

will definitely get into fistfights with anyone who fucks with him.

also, he will literally fuck anything that moves. 

i wish i was kidding. they don’t call him casanova for nothing

honestly, tumblr might be doing that thing where it doesn’t let me message anyone .. smh but listen ,, please plot w me and my messy trash son !! like this or hit me up & i will 10/10 plot with you, tbh !!