#stuff ive written

[cyrafoam]

let my intrusive thoughts win and made a twitter account.

is this a wise decision? definetly not.

but listen okay- it might be fun and I wanna find out if i made the worst decision of my life or not😤😤😤😤

[enigmaris]

If Lois Lane had a nickle for every time she had to help an overpowered boy from the midwest with the power of journalism, she'd have two nickles. Which isn't a lot but its weird that its happened twice.

Danny watched as Lois pulled out her phone and pulled up a recording app.

“What are you doing?”

“You came to a journalist and are surprised to get an interview?” She asked him, her tone clearly joking. “What you’ve given me here is great kid, but newspaper clippings and copies of federal laws don’t get the public’s attention. I need a story, Phantom’s the story.”

“I’m not Phantom.”

Lois looked at him, less than impressed. Slowly, she turned the screen of her computer until it was visible to both of them. There, in full clarity, was a front-page story from his hometown newspaper. ‘Danny Phantom saves Bus Full of Children!’ and there was a picture of him in his ghost form, his face crystal clear on her screen.

"Phantom’s a ghost. I’m just a dumb kid.” Danny tried again.

Lois pinched the bridge of her nose with her right hand and muttered to herself.

“Why do all you midwestern boys have the same schtick?”

“I’m sorry?” Danny said, unsure if he should be apologizing or not.

“Changing your last name from Fenton to Phantom does not a secret identity make kid. It might work for most civilians, but anyone familiar with the hero game will clock you from a mile away.”

“I’m not Phantom.”

“Sure, kid. But I’m sure you have a way for me to interview him, right? Because I want to talk to him before I do anything else about your town.”

Danny hugged himself and looked down at his knees.

“Is it really that bad?”

“Not the worst I’ve seen. Wonder Woman’s is paper thin. I'm pretty sure most people in DC know who she is outside of the cape and just don’t say anything because she scares them.”

Danny snorted involuntarily at that, looking back up at the woman.

“What’s going on in your town, Phantom? Why come to a journalist and not the Justice League?”

“The Anti-Ecto Acts got passed like a year ago. They state that only being that produces or contains ectoplasm above a certain amount is considered non-sapient and is to be turned over to the government for disposal.” Danny said. “I put the whole thing in there for you to read, but it's long. Amity Park has a lot of ectoplasm in it. It's seeped into the air and water. Normal human people have it in them now. At first, those agents were just firing at me whenever I finished a ghost fight. I could deal with that. Their aim is terrible anyway. But then they figured out that humans can become contaminated with ectoplasm. They decided that meant the entire town was under their jurisdiction. They've decided that means that no one in town counts as human anymore, that we don’t have rights, that they’re doing us a favor by not just exterminating the entire town like the law says.”

Danny leaned forward, putting his hands on the desk in front of Lois Lane. He looked right into her bright eyes and spoke seriously.

“When it was just ghosts under attack, I didn’t think anyone would care. I’ve tried calling the Justice League for help, but they’ve brushed me off. People need to know what’s happening. Anyone can become ecto-contaminated. You just have to be in the right place at the wrong time. It’s not right what’s happening to Amity, Miss Lane. I came to you because if anyone could get the world to listen, to believe, then it's got to be you.”

And Lois Lane smiled. It was a proud, eager smile. The kind of smile Danny had seen on Sam right after she convinced the school to serve a vegan lunch. He barely held back from shivering.

“Well then, Mr. Phantom.” Lois said, before tapping onto the recording app on her phone and starting a recording. “Let’s begin.”

[ao3-crack]

(x)

[kamaluhkhan]

I CAN STILL CHANGE THE END (spider-woman!vi x spider-woman!reader)

LET'S DO THINGS DIFFERENTLY THIS TIME....her name is violet lanes. she was bitten by a radioactive spider and for the past 10 years, she's been the one and only ghost-spider spider-woman ! she joined a band, saved the city, fell in love, saved the city again, graduated college, argued with her sister (teenagers are the worst), moved in with her girlfriend in hopes of saving their relationship, got into grad school, broke her leg (do not text and swing, regardless of how late you are for an anniversary dinner), saved the city some more, maybe too much, but couldn't save the love of her life.

no matter how many hits she takes, no matter how much guilt she carries, vi always, always, gets back up, even if it's hard to keep fighting when she's lost so much.

and.....she's not the only one.

(spoiler alert: you're the one and only spider-woman until an alternate version of your dead ex-girlfriend crashes a double date and introduces you to the chaos of the multiverse.... and maybe reintroduces the possibility of a happy ending, however doomed it may be.)

i. mercury in retrograde — violet lanes adjusts to a different reality; a new team of supervillains wreaks havoc around new york; and you just really need a nap, honestly, but you have a thesis to write, a city to protect, and a ghost-spider to deal with.

ii. agent of chaos, angel of death — you and vi start to appreciate not having to shoulder the responsibility of spider-woman alone. hoping to find her a way back home, the two of you visit oscorp and make some sinister discoveries; mj agrees to let vi fill in as the band’s drummer, but your show is cut short by unwanted guests; and you’re once again faced with the reality that you can’t save everyone.

iii. in the web that is our own, we begin again — in every other universe, violet lanes falls for spider-woman. it never ends well. but, there’s a first time for everything, right? you and vi indulge in fantasies of what your lives would have been if you met under different circumstances; the two of you save the multiverse before harry osborn can make his daddy issues everyone’s problem; and an inevitable goodbye isn’t as final as it may seem.

[vivitalks]

just got diagnosed with loving ayda aguefort disease and it's terminal. yeah the doctor said theres no cure. looks like ill be loving ayda aguefort forever until i die ://

[sualne]

bugs, blood & more blood

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Transcript:

Don't give up. Don't be a quitter, a spitter.

Follow through on what you started.

Swallow.

Audio source

[findafight]

Thinking about Dorothy, twelve and scared and wanting to go home, walking back to the Emerald city after throwing water on the Wicked Witch of the West. The adrenaline wears off as her and her companions, her friends, set up camp for the night, and it hits her. She's killed a woman.

Again.

And brave little Dorothy Gale tries to hold it together, tries not to worry the wonderful new friends who have supported her throughout her journey in Oz, tries to be brave. But eventually, once Lion and Toto are cuddled up and asleep, Tin Man has taken to staring into the small fire, and Scarecrow stays just inside the circle of light staring up at the stars, Dorothy lets herself cry.

She shifts to hide it, lies down and curls away from the fire, muffles her sniffles in the blanket they've carried for her. All the fear and loneliness, the frustration, the guilt that has built up since she dropped into Oz spilling silently out.

She breathes deep, trying to contain the sobs, until there's a hand on her shoulder, and Scarecrow is there looking at her worriedly. His eyes are buttons but the burlap surrounding them folds and crinkles around them, stitched eyebrows furrowing. She sits up slowly, watching as he tilts his head to the side, squeezing her shoulder gently.

Suddenly, she wraps her arms tightly around Scarecrow's middle, needing the comfort of a hug. (Dorothy is brave, yes, but she is twelve and homesick and guilt ridden.) She burrows her face into his chest, breathes in the familiar scent of straw. Her friend carefully rubs his hands down her back, whispering reassurances that she can't accept.

"oh, Scarecrow! I didn't want to kill her! I never--i never wanted to hurt anyone. I-I just want to go home!"

Scarecrow pauses, stills unnaturally for a moment, before pulling back from her. He looks her face over, button eyes twitching as his stitched mouth pulls into something like a grim frown. It is so unlike what Dorothy has come to expect from her boneless friend that it is mildly unsettling. The only time she recalls him being this serious is perhaps when they saw the Wizard and the man gave them the task to retrieve the Witch's broom.

Her Scarecrow friend is so often happy, carefree in a way that lifts her spirits. It wouldn't do now, would assuge her guilt, and his lack of levity grounds her in an odd way. She knows he had been afraid, or timid, or... Something else about killing the Wicked Witch. But now she's dead and Dorothy killed her, even if it was an accident to save him. She's unsure how long his seriousness will last. Or if it will reassure her.

He looks at her, unblinkingly (for Scarecrows with button eyes don't blink) before glancing over his shoulder towards Tinman tending the fire. He makes to stand, unusually graceful. "Let's go for a little walk, alright, Dot?" He says, almost casually, but there is a tension in his voice. She nods, allowing him to help her (however unsteadily) to her feet and wrap the blanket around her shoulders. They wander a ways away from their campsite, but still within sight of the fire Tin Man resolutely tends to.

Scarecrow loops himself down to lean against a tree and gestures for Dorothy to join him. When she's settled and the blanket is readjusted to let as little of the cooling night air touch her, he begins.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to speak to you before all this." He gestures aimlessly. "But there were a lot of moving parts, and my mind is rather slow and tangled these days. Still. you should've known before hand."

"known what?" She can't help but ask. Scarecrow is acting mysterious. Though along their journey he sometimes would seem to know more than he left on, he'd never been avoidant of sharing with her before.

He sighs. "what I am about to tell you, Dorothy Gale, you must swear-" he grasps her hands and holds her gaze. "Swear you will never, ever, tell anyone."

Dorothy swallows. She nods. "I swear. Scarecrow, I swear."

"you must mean it. No-one in Oz can know of any of it."

She looks at Scarecrow, his button eyes meeting her perfectly human ones, and it strikes her that he has never seemed more human. He is obviously not; he has no bones and no organs; he feels no pain, can have his straw strewn about and restuffed and be perfectly fine; he does not need food or water or sleep; and he is, clearly, a scarecrow. But he has always had an air about him, a light in his eyes that leaves it without question that he was alive.

Now, though, with him asking, begging, her to swear she will keep some terrible secret for him; there is desperation in the way his voice trembles, his hands grip hers, his eyes stare her down. With that desperation, he seems fully human.

Dorothy squeezes his gloves hands, nodding. "I won't speak a word of it to anyone. Your secrets will be safe."

"Good. Good." He nods to himself. Shakes his head. "I am not quite sure where to start." He admits.

"the beginning?"

Scarecrow grins at her. Taps his burlap nose with his finger. "Ah, but where is that? When I met you? When I met her? Who's to say?" There is his silliness, sneaking through. It reassured Dorothy that perhaps this isn't some terrible story after all.

"you, I suppose?"

Shrugging, he sighs. "Yes. You're right." He rubs his ill formed jaw with his hand, takes a deep breath, and says with much gravitas, "her name is Elphaba Thropp."

Which doesn't make much sense to Dorothy. "Whose name?"

"The Witch of the West."

"how-"

"Dorothy," Scarecrow says. He rarely interrupts. "You must listen to the end. I am not telling you this to make you feel bad. Actually, hopefully it will ease your mind-" she doesn't know how knowing the name of the woman she killed will ease much of anything for her, but Scarecrow is so rarely serious. "Please listen. And-- and try not to judge me too harshly." She wonders what he might reveal that would make him think she'd judge him after he'd helped her so much. She nods.

He does what could be a swallow. He takes a deep breath, straw shuddering and trembling in him. His hands fiddle with the frayed hem of his shirt. "I know her name, because I know her."

Dorothy cannot hide her gasp. Scarecrow chuckles grimly. "Oh, Dot, it's worse than that." His head tips to the side as he looks at her. "I love her."

She shakes her head, pulling the blanket tighter around her. "But why--"

"I'll explain. I promise." He shrugs. "We met at school." He begins.

He tells her of almost-tramplings and of parties, and of roommates dated. "Glinda and I were never going to be long-term, if not for Elphaba, I suppose."

"Glinda? The good?"

"that's the one."

"oh my. Is it common for Scarecrows and Horses to attend school with Humans then?"

Scarecrow tilts his head again in that odd way of his. "Well, Animal bans restricted unsegregated businesses and schools. Under the Wizard things are very strict. Harsh. I had to make sure Feldspur was well away from the Emerald City a few years ago for his protection."

He sounded very grave, and the mention of the Wizard troubled Dorothy. He was behind Animals being pushed away? It didn't make sense. He was supposed to be wonderful.

"as for Scarecrows, I suppose I... Should have mentioned I... Well, Dot. I haven't always been a scarecrow."

"what?"

He scratches his cheek, shrugs. "I was Human, up until just before I met you"

"how??"

He winces. "I think I should tell it all in order, actually."

So he does. Explains how the Wizard tricked Elphaba, how she defied him, and he named her Wicked. Scarecrow tells her that he looked for Elphaba, that he and Glinda were sick with worry and grief, that they ended up in the Emerald City. How he continued his search.

Dorothy thinks he may never have told anyone this before. Scarecrow has been a steady presence for her during their travels, and now he unleashes secrets from his heart, she realises that he may have been pretending. For her sake.

His story continues mostly smoothly, until after he ran away with Elphaba (which, Dorothy can admit, she finds horribly romantic. Like something out of a fairy tale. It also causes acidic guilt to burn at her insides) and Elphaba had a vision of Dorothy coming to Oz and her sister's death. He trips and stumbles over their confrontation in Munchkinland, over him getting caught in Elphaba's place.

"I do not regret it." He says, steadily. And then avoids telling her anything that happened after except that they injured him, and he felt Elphaba's magic cover him. Then he met Dorothy.

She thinks the story finished, and is hurt and confused by why he would tell her all this. He loved the Witch, who was not so wicked, and Dorothy killed her. Why is he so kind, so gentle. He seems perfectly happy, now that all is in the open, despite that his love is dead. It makes no sense.

"I wrote to her, after we saw the wizard. Pure luck Chistery was able to get it to her."

He leans in, then, smiling. "Dot. Remember, I told you all this to ease your mind." He gives her hand a squeeze. "The most important thing you should know, from all of this. Is that Elphaba is a regular human woman that happens to have green skin." He says it significantly. Meaningfully.

It still confuses Dorothy.

He smiles, kindly, and asks "do you melt in the rain?"

Dorothy shakes her head.

"do you melt swimming in a pond?"

Another shake.

"do you cry in pain when you bathe?"

"no? It's just--" it hits her, then, what scarecrow is saying. She gasps. "It's just water." It comes out awed.

He nods. "Indeed."

"oh! It was a-a trick!"

His voice is sadder, now. "a cruel one, perhaps. But necessary."

"why?"

He tilts his head, hums. "For all the reasons I told you the story for. The Wizard sent us to kill her, and I love her, so I could not let it happen. If people know she's alive, she would be in danger. This way, we are free."

Dorothy can see it. See why Scarecrow told her all about their past. She had to know he loved her, had to know why he loved her, to understand why they did it, to accept it.

"I see. When will you meet her again?"

He smiles, big and full and bright. "As soon as I see you safely home, I shall meet her, and we shall leave Oz as well."

The thought swells Dorothy's heart. He sounds happy, her Scarecrow, self assured and unworried. He leaves his home to live with his love. It is tragically romantic.

She hugs him, smiling for the first time since they entered that castle. "thank you for telling me, Scarecrow."

He wraps his arms around her, squeezes, and says. "Fiyero."

She hums a question, making him chuckle.

"my name. It's Fiyero."

Dorothy pulls away, and continues to smile. "It has been very nice getting to know you, Fiyero."

"same to you, Dorothy."

She leans back in to hug him more thoroughly.

Tomorrow they will again set off to the tell the wizard of the Witch's death, but now it is enough for her to know that Elphaba lives.

[febuwhump]

this is a me question. i have this question for people. when you write whump. are you also writing it as like. a slash fic? like, ahh this character has been impaled but also by the end of these 2,000 words they're gonna kiss their crush?? or are you just writing them getting impaled and that's the deal. because i have written four febuwhump fics so far. and each time, out of no where, the main character is in love and now i gotta deal with that as well as being trapped under a building. you know?

[cyrafoam]

Okay never sacrifice sleep to draw art. because I slept for 14 hours today and had vivid dreams about meeting Neil deGrasse Tyson at a gas station that he is in love with. listen I don't know either.

[deoidesign]

For my birthday... read my webcomic! It's literally free! (Unless you want books. Those are not free)

It's beautiful, it's gentle, it's funny, they're canonically t4t and gay... And it's about time traveling vampires solving supernatural mysteries!

I've spent thousands of hours writing and drawing it, and it's really good! I'm not biased!

It's on hiatus right now and coming back in 2 months, so it's the perfect time to get caught up

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[yeehawpim]

I just wanted to tell you that a lot of your art really resonates with me. I can’t wait to see what you do next & keep a close eye on “we go together”. You sharing your experiences has helped me feel seen. It’s nice to see that reflected back to me & I thank you for that.. I just wanted to let you know & thank you.

Thank you for reading my work!! I'm glad it connects with you, hearing that makes me feel seen too😄

It's so good to hear ppl read 'we go together,' it passed it's 1yr birthday in october and I'm still constantly cheered by the fact people care about it.

[basilpaste]

hey man. have i ever. have i ever talked about how often i think about isabeau recognizing loop from their eyes.

'yes basil.' you tell me. 'youve actually written about it like five times now.'

anyways heres another.

[friendly-alien-fucker]

Being with an ooman brought forth a good number of oddities, most of which they adored.

You were different from them, in terms of looks, yes, but also in terms of culture. And as they whiped away the liquid streaming from your eyes they realized once again how different you were in terms of morals as well.

"I'm a monster!" you sobbed, your voice frantic and shaky, and they took you into their arms on instinct at the sound.

"You're overreacting." They attempted to console you, which didn't quite work as intended they came to realize as you slapped their chest.

"I killed it! The poor little fella... they already have such a short lifespan..."

Seeing you in so much pain over the death of a being that didn't even have a conscience, they wondered how you managed to think of them as anything other than a monster. With their walls of proudly displayed trophies.

Some of them had only half your life expectancy, some lived longer than them. Some even had family.

"Fella?" they instead focused on consoling you through your strange breakdown "what makes you so sure it was male?"

You gasped, your eyes suddenly wide in horror "I didnt even think of that! What if it was female? What if it was expecting? What if I just killed an entire bloodline??!"

Though they were apparently not very good at it.

Unsure on what to do or say, they simply continued to hold you, the purring that they've subconsciously started to do getting louder.

"If it brings you any comfort", they began quietly as they heard your sobbing come to a slow stop "its unlikely it felt any pain, being the size that it was."

"It does," you mumbled, only parting from them shortly to whipe at your face "thank you."

They simply nodded.

How your species managed to become your planets apex predators remained a mystery to them.

[cuz-reasons]

Right Where It Should Be

Summary: It starts as a small thought, that Ingo misses Emmet. It ends with a determined action, Ingo going home.

As my first fic was a reunion fic, my 100th will be as well!!!