#us insomniacs are dying out here

[mmmoicca]

i just know a sleep aid from morgan kyne would slap so hard!

[preciouslandmermaid]

🕸🕷 Free Fall 🕸🕷

Pairing: Insomniac Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Fem!Reader (code name: “Huntress” + she is Kraven's daughter)

Rating: T (there are mentions to Kraven's abuse toward his children, but nothing described.)

Prompt: It was strange to touch each other without one of them dying, but maybe touch was also something for the living.

This is a drabble for the enemies-to-lovers fic that I haven’t written (and idk if I will write it). This takes place after the events of Spider-Man 2.

tags: angst, pov second person, no use of Y/N, no hurt/some comfort, unhinged fmc lmao

🕷🕷 ( read on ao3 ) 🕷🕷

New York City :: 4:25AM

Your legs dangle from the edge of the building, but the height doesn’t terrify you—never has, never could—not with Kraven as your father. Your necklace emanates a soft click-click-clack as the wind knocks its animal teeth together. For each kill, your father once said, take a trophy with you. Their coat, their teeth, their claws and wear it with pride, Huntress. You press your thumb into the tip of the largest canine tooth.

You think, what’s the point of collecting a trophy when I have no one to share the victory with?

Lower Manhattan sleeps fitfully below you. Three police cars, one ambulance, and groups of tiny black dots like fleas jumping on the back of a tremendous gray-skinned beast. You wonder where the fleas are going. Home? Work? To their lovers and friends? Something akin to loneliness bites at your heels and you stubbornly kick it away.

How can you be lonely in a city of millions? You twirl the canine tooth in your grip. Snow flurries drift through the sky like dandruff and the crystallized air scraping through your nasal cavities reminds you of home. Or whatever you could call a ‘home’. Kraven had home-bases, with all the luxury and technology money could afford, but they forever lacked warmth.

I should leave this city, the traffic lights below switch to red and a car screeches to a stop, I should leave…

An influx of cold air hits your spine followed by the sound of someone’s feet touching the rooftop.

“Hey, this doesn’t look like Barcelona,” Spider-Man says casually.

He’s referring to your last conversation---“there’s nothing left for me here. I’m relocating.” When Spider-Man asked where, you said “Barcelona, obviously.”Granted, your tone wasn’t as cauterizing as you wanted. You were bleeding out thanks to the Symbiote that speared you through the collarbone and it’s difficult to be snarky when your vision is doubled and your brain is on fire.

“Plane’s delayed,” you toss the words over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of him. The sun hasn’t risen and all the artificial light reflecting from skyscraper windows paints Spider-Man in an interesting arrangement of shadowy grays and muted red. You recall the not-so-distant time when you hunted him. All the tricks you played, all the injuries you gave each other, and you have nothing to show for it.

You release the tooth from between your fingers and it knocks against the others. What trophy would I take from the spider anyway? You return your focus to the fleas and machines between the gap in your feet. A piece of his suit, perhaps. You search within for the rage, the anger that typically fueled you, the desire to hunt that Kraven taught you—instilled in you—through his cruel voice and crueler hands.

Yet, no rage comes to greet you with its fiery white-hot grip. You find stark emptiness akin to the featureless skyscrapers that cage around you.

“Seriously,” he leaps onto the ledge beside you, “there is a place for you in New York, I mean, you’ve met Tombstone, and Martin Li, you could help at FEAST or--” he makes a plaintive gesture with his hand, “there’s other places for you.”

You clench your jaw and create a low ‘hmm’ sound with the back of your throat. His eyes burn into your cheek. Why haven’t I left yet? You could’ve at any moment after Kraven’s death.

You had a complicated relationship with your father. On the one hand, you wanted him to find a worthy opponent and achieve his ‘warrior’s death’, but on the other hand—you wanted to be that warrior. You stayed in New York to kill Venom because he killed Kraven before you could. But then...well...that didn’t work out, now did it? Venom was dead. Kraven was dead. The vultures and crows were circling, circling, circling, and if you were smart then you’d get out before they started plucking out your eyes.

“You know anyone in need of a big game hunter?”

“You’re more than that.”

Your gaze slices toward Spider-Man. His lenses widen. You don’t say anything and let him stew in the uncomfortable silence. How dare he presume to know you? The gall of these heroes. You are what Kraven made you to be. A hunter. A killer. A panther stalking through humid forests, a polar bear staining its white fur red, a sharpened blade sinking between the ribs and puncturing a lung.

You recall the wheezing, rattled breath leaving Spider-Man’s lips. His blood on your hands, staining your palms crimson, drying rusty on your wrists. ‘Gotcha’ you had said before he kicked you in the chest with both feet and sent you into the wall. He was flexible and fast, you’d give him that. An almost worthy opponent.

A true worthy opponent would’ve killed you, you think.

“I saw your notes in Kraven’s study,” he says it quietly, like it’s a secret, and your shoulders bristle close to your ears.

“What about it?” You snap, annoyance corrodes your tone and hides the soft and vulnerable parts of you. My worthless notes. Saving no one. Healing nothing.

“Oncology isn’t an easy field of study,” if he’s trying to convince you of your goodness then he is destined to fail. Your motivations for studying tumors and cancer were inherently selfish. You were trying to save your father—as cruel, and mean, and abusive as he was—you tried to save him. That wasn’t virtue at work. It was fear.

You were afraid of a world without Kraven. A world without purpose, without something to prove, without something to overcome. Kraven never loved you—never could. But he gave you a reason to live, to fight, to thrive against all odds.

You wanted to kill him with your own hands and you wanted him alive. A paradox, you know, but your relationship to your parent’s was an unsolved Rubik's cube, a labyrinth of missed opportunities. You grew up in a home made of kerosene and lit matches. What do you say to a child who grew up breathing smoke? And how can you expect them to live in the clean, fresh-air? You catch a snowflake on your thumb.

“Those notes could help someone,” he continues, gesturing, his voice growing more animated the more he spoke, “I glanced at them and I’m not saying I’m an expert, but they were thorough and they were--”

you cut in, “useless.”

“I know a guy--”

“I’m sure you do, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

Spider-Man continues, unperturbed by your interruptions, “he’s continuing the Emily-May foundation on a much, much smaller scale. Maybe he could use the notes. Maybe it could help someone.”

“Or maybe it winds up in a drawer, or in a box somewhere, and is eaten by rats.”

Spider-Man huffs, “he doesn’t have rats!” A thoughtful pause, “at least, I don’t think so.”

“It’s New York,” you roll your eyes, “there are rats everywhere.”

The silence slips into the space between you, but it’s not uncomfortable or cold. It’s just there. Like the dusting of snowflakes coating the ledge. This is the longest you’ve ever spoken to him without trying to maul him. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, waiting for an attack, but his body language is relaxed. His elbows rest on his knees, his sinewy yet lanky arms, and supplicant bowed spine. You trace the curve of his throat with your eyes.

Kraven would tell you to strike. He’d say to take a tooth hanging from your necklace and ram it into his jugular. But Kraven is gone.

Why am I here?

Spider-Man stands, “can I show you something?” he extends his hand toward you and his long fingers curl slightly as they await your hand.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears; loud, and hot, and claustrophobic and begging you to say ‘no’. Toss the spider from the ledge. Reassert your status as his enemy. Remind him of the blood you’ve spilled from his body. Reignite the animosity between you. It would be so simple. Like lighting a match in a house of gasoline.

But, you’re so tired of inhaling smoke.

Your hand slides into his. It’s solid and warm. His fingers encase yours and bring you close.

It’s strange to touch each other without one of you dying, but maybe touch is also something for the living.

“Hang on,” he mutters before the space between your bodies vanishes.

You dig your fingertips into the strong sinew of his shoulder as cold wind whistles through your ears. The skyscrapers and snowfall dim into smears of chrome and white, the noise of the city deafens, and you feel Spider-Man’s heartbeat against your own.

Your feet hit solid ground. The air tastes colder, thinner.

“Just in time,” Spider-Man says.

You open your eyes. You’re standing in a sea of roiling clouds. You look below, seeking the maze of streets and honking taxi cabs, but fluffy, blue-gray cotton greets you instead. You’re above it all. Above the constant noise, the mesmerizing traffic lights, and warm bagel shops, and kitschy tourist stalls. It’s dizzying.

A spark hits the horizon. An orange light, a tiny flame, and illuminates the clouds into a pastel landscape of pink hues. Your breath catches. Your fingertips tighten on his shoulders. The sun pushes from the clouds like a seed emerging from soil and the clouds ignite. You can’t feel the warmth of the sun, but you see it in every stroke of color, against every bulbous mound of cloud.

Spider-Man’s arm hasn’t left your waist.

Maybe touch isn’t meant to always be sharp and serrated and bloody.

“Give me your friend’s number,” you don’t turn your face away from the sunrise.

“Sure, yeah, of course,” his voice is warm, “no problem.”

A gentle orange and pink hue bleeds out; like sliced grape fruit, or a flock of flamingo feathers, or a painting done by a child with an enthusiasm for warm-tones.

“Does that – I mean – are you staying?”

“Hmm,” you step out of his embrace, “catch me and I’ll stay.”

His lenses widen, “w-what?”

You drop sideways into the cotton-candy colored clouds with laughter bubbling up from your throat.

You place one hand on the grappling hook at your waist—just in case.

He catches you.

And you stay.

[the-dawn-star]

My Hero Academia masterpost!

Hey! It seemed like a good time to make a proper MHA masterpost! I know that this is very much Dabi focused, but that's what people have liked.

-S

!! Some of the posts have very dark topics so please, please read the TW/CWs before reading something that might cause you harm!!

PLATONIC Dabi x Reader headcanons...

Brother!Dabi x LittleSibling!Reader

Dabi x HomelessTeen!Reader PART 2 PART 3

Teen!Reader being bullied

Teen!Reader get kidnapped

Dabi comforting Teen!Reader

Teen!Reader gets turned into a baby

Teen!Reader gets hurt

Teen!Reader stealing Dabi's jacket

Dabi catches Teen!Reader smoking

Teen!Reader seeing Dabi as a father figure PART 2 PART 3

Teen!Reader bringing a raccoon home

Teen!Reader takes edibles acidently

Dabi pierces Teen!Readers ears

Teen!Reader makes kandi

Reader starts highschool

Teen!Reader has a crush

Teen!Reader has an ED

Teen!Reader has daddy issues

Teen!Reader who has self harmed

Teen!Reader's birthday

Teen!Reader gets turned into a cat

Endeavour kills Teen!Reader

Teen!Reader tries to bake

Sick!Teen!Reader

Dabi dying Teen!Readers hair

Dabi and Teen!Reader get turned into cats

Teen!Reader relapses (sh)

Insomniac!Reader

Teen!Reader not having the best home life

Teen!Reader spaces out a lot

Teen!Reader finding out Dabi is Touya

->Part 2

Drunk!Dabi x Reader

Reader has final exams

~~~

Romantic/undisclosed Dabi x Reader headcanons...

Reader trying to lose weight

Dabi loves Reader's big thighs

Reader likes art and literature

~~~

Dabi One Shots...

Dabi x Reader

For both of us. Dabi x Teen!Reader (PLATONIC)

His white hair.

"Because I love you!"

~~~

Miscellaneous headcanons...

Yandere!Aizawa x Student!Reader (PLATONIC)

Yandere! Dabi & Shigaraki x Teen!Reader (PLATONIC) (seperately)

Bakugou x Todoroki!Reader

Deku x Reader Yandere alphabets

Wanna request something? My rules are HERE!

Wanna support me via Kofi? No preasure tho!

[dalekofchaos]

Fixing Insomniac's Venom

I loved Insomniac's Spider-Man 2 and if I'm being honest it was all great until Venom became a mustache twirling villain.

Venom has a great appearance, the fight was good, but his motivations was bad. Wanting world domination and pulling Web of Shadows and just the personality of a brick.

So here is how I would've changed Harry as Venom

TLDR;Dive into Harry wanting the power and feeling like Peter is stealing everything from him, the suit, his fathers love, any chance of survival. Have Harry's motivation then to take everything from him convinced that was what Peter wanted to do to him.

Have the game build up that Harry pretty much gets addicted to the suit doing heroics with Peter and Miles as “agent venom“

When Peter gets the suit, Harry slowly descends into jealousy with him having not just his cure, but his new method of really healing the world

Side note. I would've added Eddie Brock into the story. He's Peter's old rival at the Bugle and now has it out for MJ. He's a really skeevy and shady Fox News/Freddie Lounds type reporter. We help MJ prove he's a fraud and get Brock fired from the bugle. Then in the fight against Kraven or The Lizard, we destroy Brock's house and later his girlfriend leaves him. Eddie hates Spider-Man, MJ and Peter Parker and this leads him to the ending where the symbiote falls on him in the end.

Once the whole shit show of Peter going insane happens and is done with the symbiotes back at oscorp

Norman and everyone won’t let Harry near the thing anymore

But this time he goes to Harry noticing that he’s with the Symbiot and it’s like containment unit

He is also dying himself and gives him a little speech about they shouldn’t let us just with away. They should let us have all the strength that we can

To be The best version of ourselves

He released the symbiote and let Harry bond with it and tell him to meet him at Times square to fulfil his last wish

To fight the ultimate predator

Venom is born

The whole thing happens in Oscorp, but it’s not security that you’re fighting. It’s just hunters.

Venom kills kraven

This time Harry goes back to Oscorp looking normal

He pretty much tells Peter to go to hell and Norman is too occupied with the fact that is so in his healthy and the suit isn’t corrupting him from what he’s seeing

Harry then makes a speech outside of the Emily May foundation in the next days

He now declares that he is agent venom and then uses the footage of himself killing kraven and frames Peter for being this monster

This is way more personal venom that also ties in with the themes of addiction and Harry’s goal of healing the world

Instead of it being an invasion, force of aliens

It’s the symbiote and Harry using their combined hatred of Peter and desire to be a hero that they want to be a better Spider-Man

Then obviously later down this rabbit hole Harry will fight Peter and Miles as the normal venom behind closed curtains and eventually when he is outed in the public

So to sum it up. Harry gets addicted to being hero. Starts to resent Peter. Set up agent venom persona as the new hero. Uses his monstrous venom form to frame Peter. Eventually is outed, defeated and add a scene of the Venom symbiote falling on somebody else(obviously Eddie Brock to set up the Venom game)

[sitp-recs]

Hello Liv, hope you are well ❤️ Thank you for the amazing work you do, I am so glad I started following you.

I am struggling a bit at the moment, and was wondering if you had some cozy drarry to recommend? Could be hurt/comfort or anything else, but preferably not to explicit. If you know of some where either of them is dealing with figuring out they are asexual that would be great, but I haven't really found many fics with this before, so no worries if you don't.

Again thank you so much for all that you do, I really appreciate it ❣️

Hello darling, I’m sorry to hear it’s been a rough time for you 🫂 here are some of my favourite comfort fics that I’m always revisiting to lift my spirits. All of them are T-rated, except for Nice Things (M). I hope they help! Take care 💜

Ace Drarry:

Glowing by @cavendishbutterfly (10k)

Harry's lived alone and vampiric in his cottage for ages, until a long-lived Draco Malfoy suddenly shows up to answer an advertisement Harry had practically forgotten he'd put in the Prophet.

Passion Cake by @icmezzo (19k)

It’s all about desire. (Harry orders a magically enhanced cake from a chic London bakery, and from there it all goes to hell in a cake tin. Also, will someone please tell Harry what Passion Cake is?)

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose and dustmouth (96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

Misc:

Waiting for that Feeling by @sorrybutblog (4k)

Draco Malfoy has a car and Harry Potter is on the case! Featuring Muggle car repair, a road trip to Cornwall, and falling in love in a Ford Fiesta.

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by @dorthyanndrarry (5k)

Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.

Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (9k)

Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

warmest part of the winter (orphaned, 11k)

It’s not even a balcony, it’s just a window with a bit of a ledge, and Draco’s read Shakespeare anyway, he knows how this one ends.

How We Throw Our Shadows Down by thistle_verse (14k)

Draco has finally found the perfect, rare piece to complete his collection. The only problem is that the item belongs to Harry Potter, the last wizard on earth Draco wants to ask another favour from.

The Snitch-Maker by Omi_Ohmy (21k)

Draco is content with his Snitches, with the tap tap tap of his hammer, and the tiny gears and sharp scent of metal in his workshop - until one day Harry Potter appears, asking for help to solve a rash of Snitch-tampering in the Quidditch world.

With Great Yawns and Stretchings by sugar_screw (22k)

The coffee is very good. Really. And the cats are so cute. That's why Harry goes so often.

Nice Things by aideomai (M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

Doing the Lambeth Walk by @blamebrampton (26k)

There are only three traditional choices for the cashed-up hero after victory. Harry Potter is too young to settle down and provide the wizarding world with a happy ending, and has too acute a sense of humour to spiral downwards into a spectacular flame-out. That leaves a life of good works.

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 (38k)

Harry Potter’s life is fine. Maybe a little dull and predictable, but he shouldn’t complain about that, right? When he unexpectedly finds himself at Luna’s house one afternoon, Harry gets invited to join the secret wonderland that she’s creating with a surprising group of friends.

Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch (43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together. And the castle starts breaking. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.

A Room Up There (And You In It) by @the-starryknight (59k)

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit.

Art:

Going Postal by dustmouth

So Draco and Harry sort of maybe have a bit of a thing going. Which is all fine and good, but would probably be more effective if they managed to be on the same continent for more than five minutes at a time.

[yukii0nna]

Power Blending!!!✨

This is something I have been dying to do for a while. Given the nature of the fic,this was bound to come up so here we go!

Earth land magic and Twisted Wonderland magic are different but mix pretty well. Earth land magic spells can be cast by someone with twisted wonderland magic and vice versa. However, people with fairy tail magic can't overbolt.

Wizards can use magic while using the miraculous. How the magic blends depends on the miraculous and the magic. For example; if someone uses water magic and the fox miraculous. The flute can act as a wand or blaster.

It is possible to have both quirks and magic. However they are independent of each other

Duel spirits can be brought out by magic. However, compared to psychics,it is weak by comparison.

Forbidden spells are the same on all sides for good reason.

That's it for now. Asks are welcome

@sayuricorner @anxious-twisted-vampire @marrondrawsalot @writing-heiress @achy-boo @abyssthing198 @insomniac-jay @jasontoddssuper@lovelyllamasblog @yugirl @gritsandbrits @starry-night-rose @missputotyra

[margindoodles2407]

Of Hands and Heartbreak- First Draft Completed

Why have I come back to this after like. A month? To finish it. Here you go. Come get y'all's juice.

Hey @whyoneartheven you might enjoy this

It’s late. Or it’s early. The man in the dusty, bloodstained armor can’t tell. It’s dark, that’s what matters, and he can’t sleep. It’s too hot for that. 

Doesn’t stop his comrades, though. He’s glad; they’re all strewn about the camp, collapsing into the shoulders of their brothers or passed out where they were sitting for the feeble excuse of a meal the Grand Army affords to give them, half-eaten rations still resting in their limp grips. Good. War’s an exhausting business, and rest is a luxury few soldiers can afford, and these boys are too young to have to worry about things like that. Newest recruits are barely nine-eighteen.

(Not that he should be talking. He’s not much older.)

The General sleeps a few feet away; he fell asleep talking to the crimson-haired general of the other battalion and is currently using his shoulder as a pillow. Looks a little absurd, considering he stands a full head and shoulders above his brother-in-arms. The man smiles, a faint, fond smile. Absurd, he may be, but the plain and simple fact is his General’s a good man.

And he’s trained a good apprentice. A little girl, curled up next to the armored Captain, tucked under his arm and squishing herself into his side. All of fourteen standard years, wide-eyed, quick to flash a toothy smile and quicker to double over in bubbly, fanged giggles. For now, though, she’s sound asleep and snoring softly, which makes him chuckle, just a little bit. She’d be mortified if she knew.

But the chuckles subside, as they always do, and after a moment (a few seconds? an hour? but what is time to a soldier) he catches himself staring into the fire again. He isn’t a man much given to introspection; he never has been, and not many of his brothers are either. Wasn’t something their minders seemed to consider important enough to teach them.(Probably cause they weren’t meant to think for themselves, not really. Of course, that never had stopped any of them.) But he sometimes catches himself thinking about things probably more suited to Jedi philosophy than a Captain’s insomniac musings. 

Tonight? Well, it’s what people’s features can tell a person about them.

Hands, for instance.

His hands have seen too much war. Large, calloused, rough and chapped. Littered with scars and blisters, nails uncut and ragged and grimy, dirt in his pores and always, always, haunted with the ghostly sensation of being drenched in blood that will never wash off. Not the blood of the enemy- thank Force he fights droids, lifeless beings of wire and durasteel, and not other living beings… usually. No. The blood of the brothers he couldn’t save, of the fresh-faced boys straight outta Tipoca City, bright-eyed and full of the naive bravado of “I’m Gonna Be A Hero”- boys that might not even necessarily be dead, but who shed their blood on the battlefield nonetheless, and with it, their innocence.

He’s jolted out of his thoughts by a particularly loud snore, and it brings his mind to the hands of the little girl. Hers are the opposite of his in every way imaginable; small, soft, and gentle. The hands of a healer, not a soldier.

Jedi were not made for warfare. Their hands were made to help, not to harm; if they hold weapons at all, they fight to defend and not to kill. Hers are no different, and though they wield her twin sabers with ferocious dexterity, he’s always been of the mind that they’re far better at complicated secret handshakes with the General, at playing cards with his brothers, at helping Kix give meds to the injured. 

At holding the war-hardened hands of the dying. 

But it’s too late (or is it too early?) to think about that kind of thing. In fact, he’s finally starting to nod off (thank Force). Not very comfortable to sleep sitting up, though, so he shifts, just a little bit, as carefully as possible so as to not wake her up. He mostly succeeds.

But she stirs, just a little, and she mumbles something he can’t really make out, and as his eyelids finally flutter shut, she moves just barely as well.

And the two of them- the Captain and the little girl- fall asleep, hand in hand.

[thevagabondexpress]

reasons for a character to be angsty *other than* "abusive/deadbeat parents," "was bullied/assaulted," "queer and living with homophobic parents," or "someone died"

okay. hear me out. maybe it's just me but i'm tired of seeing the very heavy, triggering backstories listed above used to create brooding darkness within a character. now, that's not to say you can't use those. i've seen a couple authors use them and handle them very well. but i feel like they've been overused and, for the majority, not handled particularly well most of the time. hence, i've created a list of alternative reasons for your fictional charater to be a 'lil angsty without that weight of trauma that could be fumbled easily if not handled carefully. feel free to use these and share this around, that's what it's there for. feel free also to provide suggestions in the comments and i'll add them to the list.

∘ time period specific generation z angst: "the planet is turning into a pressure cooker, everything is on fire, democracy is crumbling like a dry pound cake, and nobody who has any power is doing anything because they only care about making money."

∘ habitual insomniac who just can't f***ing get their sleep schedule together. they're snarky and brooding because they're so. f***ing. tired.

∘ eldest sibling angst.

∘ middle sibling angst.

∘ youngest sibling angst.

∘ existential gender/sexuality/educational/career/faith/insert here crisis

∘ crisis of desired vs. perceived identity: "I want people to see me this way but all they ever see is this."

∘ they have a goal. they're really motivated. they're trying hard and they know they're good at what they do. but for some reason either they face consistent roadblocks from other people, or other people just refuse to acknowledge it.

∘ wanting something they can't have, but not in a whiny "he's so hot and I want to go out with him but he won't look at me" sort of way. no, as in, "I want to go visit my family in [insert country] but I don't have the time or money to go and I haven't seen my cousin in years she must be walking and drawing on the walls by now."

∘ unhealthy workaholic with a deep dark secret: that research project, etc. they've been obsessing and staying up late over and pushing everyone away for . . .

∘ sympathy angst: character has a friend/relative that cannot or will not acknowledge the emotions they ought to be feeling, so this character starts feeling the emotions for them

∘ character is caring for someone who is injured/ill (they don't even have to be dying, or in critical condition) and it's taking a toll

∘ character has been in one profession for a long time. now they've quit, moved on, and are doing something else. maybe they've retired. but they miss their old job, plus they find themselves falling back into the old habits. they worked that job so long they don't know how to be anything else.

∘ generational gothic: the character has uncovered a long-buried secret. maybe about their family. maybe about their place of work. maybe about their hometown, or the house they bought. whatever it is, everyone else seems to have forgotten it, and moved on. but they know. and they must cope with the burden of this aged secret thrown over their shoulders.

∘ performative angst: character is really into one of the fine arts. or building cars. or a martial art. or history. or science. whatever. point is, they develop angst deliberately as a performative state because they think it sounds cool.

∘ something the character has always believed to be a concrete fact turns out to be just another terrible fiction.

∘ character discovers a truth about themselves they had not previously realized. now they must analyze it, and come to terms with it. ∘ career-based moral/ethical angst: I do what I have to do because it's necessary and important (or because it's what i've always known, or both). but is it really good, or right? could there be a better way?

∘ time-period specific 1960's system-directed anger, whether that's to do with the civil rights movement or the war or both.

∘ character has moved to a new place. now, they must adjust to new societal expectations and customs, and possibly new food and culture as well. they feel strange and out of place, and miss their homeland.

∘ the character recently ended a relationship (romantic or otherwise) that was no longer functioning. they're the person who ended it, because they could see that things weren't working out anymore, but they're also very aware that the "it's not working out" went both ways and is much their fault as their friend/partner's. hence, they've gone and convinced themself that they were the bad guy, even though they really weren't.

∘ character had a massive falling out with a beloved friend or relative and now the two can't get along. they can barely be in the same room and it's dragging on the both of them and everyone around them.

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

~Minecraft incorrect quotes for the Main 6 cuz I love them~

=======================================================================

(To anybody that understands this reference, here’s a cookie 🍪)

Florida: COME GET YOUR MULE BITS!~ COME ONE, COME ALL!~

NY: *in the background* YOU PROMISED ME WE WERENT SELLIN’ THE BITS-

~Texas, California and DC walking up~

DC: Hey guys!

Florida: Ya want some mule bits?

Cali: Mule bits, please!

NY: (in the background) NOOO 😭 (x4)

Florida: What bit of the mule?~

Cali: Uhhh- the back :)

Florida: *walks into shop*

Texas: Ya really said- ya really said ya wanted the mules r*ctum Safe-Space you mother f*cker-

~inside the shop~

NY: NO!- I DON’T WANT TO 😭-!

Florida: Do it.

NY: I DONT WANNA….

Florida: Do it!

NY: *incoherent screams as he kills the mule*

~outside the shop~

DC, TX, CA: 👁️👄👁️💧…. *the cries of the innocent in the background*

Texas: What the f*ck?!

Florida: *walks out* Here’s your back, sir! *drops mule bits so Cali can pick them up*

Cali: What the fu-

Florida: *blocking off the entrance* We’re closed now.

Texas: *trying to hold it together* What- what part of the mules back is that 😏

*insert more sobbing in the background*

~later~

Texas: Tell you what- here’s what we do- this time we go and we save Empire (NY), alright? W-we are Child Protection Services.

Cali: I-i actually need food, im on one heart.

Texas: I don’t have any. *quite obviously has an apple in his hand*

Cali: Pfft-

~at the mule bits shop~

Texas: Ok- Florida, Florida-

Florida: Hello Texas~

Texas: Im so- W-What is this operation of yours then, eh? I can hear cries from behind you. I can hear CRIES, Florida! I can hear the CRIES of a distorted child!

Florida: Name a bit of the mule.

Texas: Oh- uh…. An*s :)

Florida: *walks into shop* New York?

Cali: Don’t make York do this!-

Texas: Wait Safe-Space- *gets some ladders* I have an idea.

~inside the shop~

NY: I NAMED THIS ONE 😭! FLORIDA I NAMED HIM 🥹!

Florida: Do it, New York.

NY: I NAMED THIS ONE 😭

Texas: *breaks roof so he can see inside*

NY: NOOOO 😭 *screams as he kills the poor mule*

Texas: WHAT THE F*CK IS THIS?! This is the SWAT, b*tch! THIS IS THE SWAT-

Cali: *falls off roof and dies*

Texas: AHHHHHHHH?!- OK- MAN DOWN (x2)! MIA MIA-

=======================================================================

DC: So…. This is what you’ve been doing while New York was apparently being forced to kill a mule by Florida?

Louisiana, standing in front of a very intricately built XP farm: Yup :D (he’s so proud of himself 😭-)

=======================================================================

Texas: No- STOP DYING PLEASE 😭

His horse: *is f*cking suffocating in a wall*

=======================================================================

NY: *bringing another dog home* Welcome to the pack buddy!

The other 32 dogs: 👁️👄👁️

=======================================================================

Loui: Hey Texas?

Texas: Yea Lou?

Loui: So y���know how we went fishing earlier?

Texas: Yea?

*insert several cats hoarding Loui*

Loui: Well I just have to say, I think I put my fish to good use :D

=======================================================================

DC: *getting attacked by phantoms at night*

DC: Damn Minecraft I get it already- Stop rubbing it in my face that I’m an insomniac-

=======================================================================

California: *finishes building his house* Finally done….

Florida off in the distance with flint and steel: :)

=======================================================================

*Florida and Loui building their house*

Florida: Should we put our beds together?

Loui: O’course sha.

Florida: No homo tho ;)

Loui: Yea no homo.

=======================================================================

NY: *bridging over the lava in the nether*

Florida, irl: *comes up behind him and grabs him from behind like the little a$$hole he is*

NY: *screams and falls* GODDAMNIT FLORIDA-

=======================================================================

[aagiijxbls]

Has anyone heard the song ‘one of us’ by Creeper and thought… holy shit this is Steve thinking about Bucky? 

I'm changing pronouns in the song and swapped velvet for leather.

I'm about to analyze the shit out of this. (Well not really but it's my head cannon for this song)

So get ready for a ramble post with visual aids. If the artists (who have been credited) don't wish to have their art on this post please let me know! I will take them down.

Now, lets get into it.

-----

-“Boy, when you showed up here there was no blood left to drain”- 

‘Bucky?’ 

Steve's face when he sees Bucky on the bridge. 

When Bucky showed up Steve had already bled for all he had lost. Physically and emotionally. He had mourned for his past, for his best friend who was not standing in front of him and he froze. He completely dropped his fighting stance and stood up straight. He had already grieved and metaphorically bled for this man and now here Bucky was, standing in front of him and he didn't know what to do. 

-“We were born for dying here like snow under the rain”-

Both of them ‘died’ during World War II. 

Bucky falling from the train, thought dead only to have been experimented on and tortured. His own self dying as Hydra took his memories and made him into something so far from himself that he was essentially reborn as someone else. 

Steve who selflessly ‘died’ by crashing a plane in order to save everyone else. Only to be woken 70 years in the future to a world he no longer knew. To a world that he thought he had saved, only to find out his sacrifice hadn't changed anything. 

-“You know when they find us here, they'll kill us both the same”-

Steve, on the run from SHIELD (Hydra) trying to save his best friend. They were completely willing to kill Steve, and as Bucky started coming back to himself, they were completely willing to kill him too. 

Bucky's apartment in Bucharest. Need I elaborate? 

(As a side note/theory, this line also fits to them being together in the 40s. Being found out to be gay could very well have gotten them both killed.)

-“So for the final time, put your hand in mine and I'll kiss away the pain”-

Pushing aside the trash writing of Endgame. Head cannon here is that they finally get to rest for a while, together. They finally reached the end of the line. Bucky coming to grips with his past, with the help of Steve. 

Steve taking Bucky's hand and leading him out of the darkness. 

(art by @ekbe-vile and @queercatcryptid)

-“Born in the shadows, to die in the dust”-

Taking this line literally. Bucky being born in the shadows as the Winter Soldier, somewhat coming out of that pain only to be snapped by Thanos. Literally dying as dust. 

-“Not like the others, you're one of us”-

Steve defending Bucky, standing by him through all of it. He's not what everything thinks he is (especially Sam at first). He's one of the good guys. He's one of the Avengers. He is one of them. He is One Of Us. 

-“No I don't sleep no more, when I did I dreamed of you”-

It would have been so amazing and heartwrenching to see Steve going through some form insomniac faze after he woke up. Being so torn apart from everything that happened to him, to dream only of seeing Bucky falling. His biggest failure and fear was not being able to grab his hand. 

-“Now the devil's at your door and there's a darkness seeping through”-

This is Bucky coming to grips with his own mind. That line in CAWS where he says “I don't know if I'm worth all this Steve.”

The darkness of not feeling worthy of salvation. Of self hatred at what he did, even if he didn't have a choice. Because “I know, but I did it” 

Look at that lip twitch... That's a man who doesn't believe what he's being told.

(Art by @mohish-ko)

-“So pretty like a dying flower in your tight leather clothes”-

Relief that Bucky is alive. But it's not quite Bucky is it? Not yet. 

It's so Beautiful yet so tragic.

Bucky is alive. But - “he didn't even recognise me”

-“So tragic in the final hour as the sun descends over fields of virgin snow”-

Steve willing to die at the hands of Bucky instead of fighting against him. 

Bucky's conflicted face as his mind races, searching to understand this man, this mission, beneath him who is beaten and bloody. 

But Bucky's body just won't move. 

An awareness is slowly rising in him, melting the ice from his memories. Although he can't make sense of why yet. 

I just... omg this song kills me. If y'all haven't heard it I highly recommend checking it out. And if you have any insights or thoughts on this, please feel free to speak up in the comments! Let's discuss!

[blooming-water-roses]

Fuck it, ShiIta ArtCollege!AU

This is unfinished but I re-read it today and kinda like the banter, so I may write more disasters like this continuing the storyline.

Relevant tags: Crack, Comedy, Adult Humor

Pairings: ShiIta, KakaObi, feat HashiMada

Warnings: Shisui and Itachi are cousins who date in this, kindly don’t like don’t read!

Summary: Konan, Itachi, and Genma are songwriting majors at Konoha Arts, Sasori, Hashirama, and Yamato are wood sculpting art majors, Madara is an audio engineering major, Shisui is a music production major, Kakashi is a creative writing major, Obito is an acting major, Deidara is a clay artist (ofc) and Gaara is glass sculptor.

They all are friends one way or the other, around the same ages, and engage in their usual shenanigans at lunch. Here is their conversation:

“Ya know, it would pay for you and Itachi to quit being so serious all the time.”

As if on cue, the two turn their expressionless gazes to Shisui, who raises his brows. In front of them, Genma and Kakashi snicker.

“Sorry. I don’t have a magical button to change my default mood from ‘neutral constipated’,” Konan says dryly. Genma laughs around the sucker in his mouth.

“Heh, at least you still have a sense of humor.”

“Hey, my ‘Tachi does have a sense of humor. He just doesn’t show it most of the time,” Shisui insists, dramatically rubbing his cheek against Itachi’s own. The younger Uchiha flushes.

“Whose side are you on?” Asks Genma, but the question goes unanswered.

“Shisui, you’re smothering me,” his voice is soft with a hint of annoyance.

“You’re gonna give him a heart attack with your PDA,” Kakashi points out.

“But I want the whole world to know Itachi has my heart.”

“Trust me, the world already knows. Pretty sure you’d be on your third kid together by now if Itachi had a uterus.”

Said man finally widens his eyes as a horrible blush overtakes his cheeks and ears. Shisui even turns red.

“Ope, double homicide. You bulls-eyed the breeding kink.”

That was Genma.

“Why do we even hang out with you?” Itachi is exasperated.

“Entertainment.”

Genma smirks at Konan. “We should date.”

“I’m actually insufferable, gloomy, and weird as fuck. So for your sake I’ll decline.”

He sighs. “You sound like my younger brother rejecting his nineteenth girl of the week.”

As if on cue, Sasori plunks down beside him and looks up at them through his unruly mop of cherry red-dyed hair. His honey eyes are rimmed with a thin line of smoky black, as usual. It’s an aesthetic choice, partly, but also to hide his dark circles. The damn insomniac never sleeps.

“It’s twenty now.”

“Oh? Who was it?”

“Matsuri, that undeclared first year.”

“I thought she liked Gaara?”

“Seems she has a type.”

Genma blinks. “What, insane edgelord sentient candy apples?”

“Only you could come up with such an abomination of a sentence,” Konan tells him with the hint of a grin.

“I’m not a lyricist for nothin’, baby.”

“Baby? You two finally dating?” Sasori asks with mild interest.

“Nope. She rejected me again.”

“Ouch. I’d give you my period-three sculpture as a consolation gift but Deidara put air bubbles in his and blew up the kiln again.”

“I thought he only did that if no one else was using it.”

“He claims he forgot mine was in there since I never use clay.”

“Hmm. Could be. Sorry about your art.”

“I’ll just stick to wood pieces,” Sasori shrugs. “Sleep will be last priority to get my project done on time. I’d hate to make the professor wait.”

“You already do that though. Not sleep, that is. You’re painfully on time. We all know you’re impatient as fuck,” Obito laments the times where Sasori has rushed everyone in order to be on time.

“Guess things are according to plan then.”

“Ah, there he is! My dummy-husband!”

They all look to see Obito just before he plops down beside Kakashi, planting a kiss on his face mask and smiling happily.

“Hey, idiot,” is Kakashi’s fond greeting.

“If it isn’t Grandpa Obito,” Genma wise-cracks, and Obito makes a face.

“We’re the same age as you, Shiranui.”

“And? Maybe if you guys didn’t act like such geezers you’d have been designated better roles in our dysfunctional friend-family.”

“Is that what we are?” Asks Kakashi as Obito interlaces their fingers.

“Yup,” Shisui answers. “We talked about it the other day working the radio station. You and Obito are Grandma and Grandpa. ‘Tachi and I are Mom and Dad. Konan over here is the exhausted yet supremely talented older sister, and Genma and Sasori are the two neighbor kids who are in a love triangle with Konan.”

Konan sighs exasperatedly, and at the same time, she and Sasori say. “There is no love triangle.”

Obito blinks. “You guys are insane.”

“Says the guy who eloped with his boyfriend a week before his junior year.”

“We got the idea from Hashirama and Madara.”

Konan raises a brow. “They’re married?”

“Yeah! They eloped last year. You haven’t noticed their rings?”

“I don’t really pay attention,” she shrugs.

“Madara wears a shit ton of rings and Hashirama wears his on his neck ‘cause he sculpts,” Shisui adds as a further explanation.

“Hashirama’s a damn genius at wood sculpting,” Sasori muses, “His cousin Yamato is talented as hell too. I need to work harder.”

“Can’t punch the gas if it’s already floored,” Itachi reminds, trying to be helpful. Shisui beams at him as if he just wrote a Bible that makes sense and actually solves all of the world’s problems.

“You’re so smart.”

“Or just really neurodivergent.”

“Same thing in my book.”

“He has a point,” Kakashi shrugs.

“Say, what was eloping like?” Shisui asks, arm around Itachi’s waist tightening. “You think me and ‘Tachi could do it?”

“It was great,” Obito grins. “Why not? You two act married anyway.”

Itachi sighs. “Has everyone forgotten we’re cousins? My family would never approve.”

“Eh, what’s the big deal? If you wanna ‘sweet home Alabama’ each other to the Moon and back, you go right ahead,” Genma winks for good measure. “It’s no sweat off my balls.”

Itachi stares, blinking slowly at his fellow songwriter.

“Couldn’t you just have said it doesn’t bother you?” He asks.

“Like a normal person?” Sasori adds in, not hiding his disgust.

“Coming from you, that’s rich,” Genma grins wolfishly, elbowing his brother in the ribs. “None of us are normal at all.”

“Yup. We wouldn’t be wackos who decided to get art degrees otherwise,” Shisui grins broadly. No one misses the rather lovesick, gentle expression Itachi bestows upon his face, but everyone ignores it. It’s as far as Itachi goes with PDA, but damn if it isn’t more potent than an actual physical gesture towards Shisui at making everyone avert their eyes at the display of intimacy.

Except Genma.

“Or wackos in love with their own cousins.”

Itachi’s eyes shift from their warmth to fix Genma with an only half-venomous glare.

“Shut up.”

The Shiranui raises his hands in defense. “We’re all wackos, this is a safe-space. Completely judgement-free zone.”

Despite his tendency to joke, those words are entirely sincere.

[gayjew69]

new camping fanfic posted by me!!!

For non AO3 users, the fanfic will be under the cut

FIRST!! WARNINGS!: Suicide, gun violence, major character death, murder!! you have been warned!!

—————————

3:04 AM. The lamp illuminated the desk Daniel sat at, everything else in his bedroom looked like a void. The only noise that accompanied Daniel was the heavy exhales from his nose. The insomniac firmly held a sheet of paper in his hand, reading every word repeatedly without a break. The letter was from Jack Logan (his dear father) who took his own life shortly after the death of Emma Logan, Daniel’s beloved sister. Any reader could tell by the writing that it was neatly and carefully made. It was only for Daniel to admire how his father put this written message together in his final moments. Most of the epistle talked about how he did this to see Emma again and how Daniel was a joy to raise. However, the end of the letter had an important mission. Jack Logan wanted revenge on Jeff Terzi. Thanks to Jeff’s reckless driving, Emma could only be seen as a framed picture with bouquets surrounding it. Despite being against the idea at first, Daniel promised to himself that he will fulfill his father’s wish. That night he plotted many ways he could get back at Jeff. Deciding to save those ideas for later, Daniel gently put the letter in his drawer and turned off the lamp. The drowsy man stumbled back to his bed and hoped for uninterrupted rest.

8:13 AM. With a slam, The alarm clock got silenced by Daniel’s hand. Daniel groaned as he opened his bleary eyes and lumbered to the bathroom. Hunched over and gripping the edge of the sink bowl, Daniel stared deeply into his reflection. He tried to practice making fake yet convincing cheerful expressions for his shift. As Daniel stared into his mirror, he found a part of his soul was missing. When his family was undeservingly taken away from Daniel, he struggled to grasp the meaning of life. Is this the universe’s way of testing him? Daniel could only ponder what he did to warrant this. Finally, he heard what he thought to be an answer. A familiar voice spoke, it slightly resembled Jack Logan. Daniel whipped his head around to find the source of the sound. But to Daniel’s surprise, there was only himself. The voice was encouraging him to check his father’s wardrobe. Although Daniel’s initial reaction was to feel dubious, the voice was persistent and invigorated him. With a sigh, Daniel reluctantly walked over to his dad’s bedroom. It’s been several years since he has been inside his father’s bedroom. How could there be something new to that room? Daniel asked himself as he entered.

The wardrobe door opened with an eerie creek. Daniel pushed aside Jack’s varied trench coats and collared shirts cautiously, trying to find something that might bring him closer to the answers for his train of thought. Eventually with impatience, He resorted to sliding his hand across every crevice inside the clothing cupboard. When Daniel was about to question why his gut feeling brought him here, he almost froze once he felt the cold exterior of an outer barrel. Bringing it out of the shadows of the closet, Daniel obtained an AK-47. Daniel inspected the rifle in its entirety. The steel billet was cool to the touch, it definitely wasn’t new but it was clearly used with care and the gun was already loaded. For Daniel it almost felt like he was touching a cursed artifact, especially since it belonged to his father. The voice commanded Daniel to bring the gun to Specky woods. Daniel’s only option was to oblige, the instinct couldn’t be ignored and would trouble him if he tried. Besides, park rangers do need guns, anything could be lurking. That’s at least what Daniel told himself for reassurance.

10:17 AM. Daniel was assigned to set up bear traps all over the field. To say Daniel was looking forward to it would be a blatant lie. He was forced to do this tedious task over and over to the point Daniel wondered if the bear population would be lower than the deer’s in Specky Woods. Luckily, park ranger Daniel wouldn’t have to suffer in boredom alone as he had his coworker Steve for assistance. When the both of them were placing down bear traps in the area, Daniel looked up and suddenly stopped any movement as if he had turned into stone. Of course it wasn’t rare to see a family camping in the middle of the woods, quite the contrary, but did it have to be that family? Jeff Terzi, his wife, and his three kids. Seeing Jeff bonding with his children and playing in the grass made Daniel wistfully think back to the times him, his father and Emma would go on exciting adventures with each other. Watching Jeff go on with his life, free of consequences, filled Daniel with pent-up rage. If nobody was there, Daniel would’ve acted on the urge to strangle Jeff. Daniel could only let out an aggravated exhale through his mouth. Steve gives his coworker a glance out of concern, but quickly assumes that Daniel was just tired. Understandably, nobody’s ideal morning is to set up bear claws. To Daniel’s dismay, Jeff started to approach the park rangers. Daniel kept his head low and his eyes on the leg hold traps, praying that Steve would do the talking instead.

“Hello! I was wondering… What’s with the bear traps?” Jeff spoke to the park rangers.

“It’s to stop bears from killing the deers. The decreasing deer population here is concerning us,” Steve responded as if it was an obvious answer; he still attempted to keep formality and respect in his tone.

“Oh, thanks. Who would’ve guessed? silly me!” Jeff chuckled despite Steve’s face not showing an ounce of amusement. “I’ll leave you two alone, have a good day,” Jeff waved goodbye, walking back to the tents. Steve waved back at the father. Daniel put his head up to glare at Jeff with unblinking eyes, which daunted him. Jeff wasn’t the only one unnerved by Daniel’s stare, Steve looked at Daniel with a confounded expression.

“What’s the matter with you?” Steve whispered.

“I… There was a leaf in his hair, I was deciding whether or not to let him know,” Daniel lied, he tried to sound believable but his voice sounded robotic.

“I don't think staring at him was helpful,” Steve replied bluntly. Daniel continued with his task, looking away from his colleague out of embarrassment and shame. “Daniel, be honest with me, are you okay?” Steve questioned.

“Why are you asking?” Daniel’s uneasiness was visible in his voice. From Daniel’s response hardly being related to the question, Steve took it as a no.

Steve sighed sympathetically, “We’re friends, you can tell me if you have problems going on.”

“I’m fine.” Daniel’s somewhat trembling hands contradicted his words. Steve gave Daniel one more skeptical glance.

“Well I can’t force you to open up,” Steve resumed back to his job. For the rest of the shift, the atmosphere between the park rangers was awkwardly silent.

11:14 PM. A cluster of raindrops fell all over the campsite of Specky Woods. Thankfully, Daniel was hiding inside the wooden shed, watching through the window. The rain aggressively tapped against the glass pane of the outhouse. The sky was pitch black and the foggy mist made the place scarcely seeable. Even though Daniel only had to work his day shift, he lingered in the woods, watching Jeff’s every movement while in hiding. Usually Daniel would be at home resting, but he was at the mercy of what he assumed to be his father’s voice, controlling most of every action. The plan should work out perfectly. Tents are not suitable for harsh rainfall, that would mean the family of five would have to use the cave as shelter. Sadly, the family made the grave, foolish mistake of leaving their picnic basket at the campsite. Speaking from observation, the mother didn’t seem like an assertive woman. Daniel hoped the parents weren’t psychotic enough to send one of their young children to fetch the basket in this weather. Using the process of elimination, Jeff would most likely be the one to get sent to retrieve their food. Jeff was the one to walk up to Daniel and Steve while his family stayed together in the campsite, which made Daniel believe his theory was strong. Daniel put his head against the window, trying to hear for any footsteps or noise that could be from the father. Because of the obstreperous rainfall, the park ranger tried not to be too optimistic. However, with the faint sound of a closing bear trap and a man screaming, it was as if someone answered Daniel’s prayers. Hurriedly, Daniel placed the rifle and its sling over his shoulder and stole a spare flashlight to aid his vision through the fog.

The rain poured down in torrents, each drop striking Daniel in the head and his back. The armed man sniffled as he tried to find his target. It was both a curse and a blessing that whoever is above the sky decided to cast down this weather. It didn’t take too long before Daniel found himself standing in front of Jeff, pointing the flashlight at his face. Jeff looked as if he just crawled out of the trenches. He was covered in dirt and mud from falling face first on the ground; The bear trap buried its spikes into Jeff’s shin. The injured man looked up at Daniel with hope sparkling in his eyes, like he had found his savior.

“Daniel! Thank God you’re here!” Jeff cried out in relief, his tears camouflaged with the rainfall. “Can you please help—“

Daniel tossed aside the flashlight and, with swift motion, held the AK-47 to the father’s head, pressing the muzzle against his forehead. Jeff’s pupils shrunk. “Daniel? It’s me… I’m not a bear!” Jeff let out a shaky laugh, wishing that this was a massive misunderstanding.

“Shut your mouth. Don’t make this harder than this needs to be,” Daniel whispered harshly through his gritted teeth. Daniel tried his best to not to look at Jeff. This man has a family, just like Daniel used to. Does this make him any better? Daniel started to have regrets of threatening this man but he had to remember that he lost everything due to him. His sister, his father, they were no longer there but Jeff still remained. It may not make him better, but it wouldn’t make him worse, would it? Many thoughts raced Daniel’s mind as he hesitantly wrapped his finger around the trigger.

“Daniel!” The trembling man shouted, “You’re being ridiculous! Can’t we just talk like rational adults?”

Jeff reached out and grabbed the gun by the barrel in an attempt to move it out of his face. As if his hands had a mind of their own, Daniel flinched and pulled the trigger. The bullet mushroom made Jeff’s blood and brains splatter all over the muddy grass. The scarlet drops stained Daniel’s uniform. The rifle fell out of Daniel’s grip; he stared down at the father’s disfigured head. His face, if it even could be recognised as one, resembled a decaying orchid flower. The unpitying reality didn’t wait patiently to settle in. Daniel looked at the palms of his hands, then the corpse, and back at himself.

This is what Jack Logan wanted. You did what you had to do. How many times could Daniel tell himself that before he could finally be at peace? Standing in the rain for a certain period of time can get you sick, taking a shower is highly advised. Daniel was scrubbing himself clean, cleaning his body and mind. But how does one clean his mind after witnessing his own murder? No matter how much soap he used, Daniel was filthy and impure. He couldn’t even call himself a man, a title like ‘murderer’ and ‘monster’ would suit him better. there were no crimson markings on Daniel’s body yet the blood on his hands stuck with him permanently. Daniel raised the temperature of the shower, making it as boiling as possible. He aggressively continued to cleanse himself, but he felt that there was no progress. The shower only reminded of where he was standing in Specky Woods. Standing in front of the bleeding body of Jeff Terzi. The scorching water burnt Daniel's skin, but he knows hell has a punishment unimaginably worse prepared for him.

4:03 AM. Daniel put on clean clothes and expected himself to drift off to sleep. Instead, Daniel was sitting at the edge of his bed as he buried his tearful face into his hands. All Daniel ever wanted to do was to make his father happy, even going as far as following his every command, never questioning the morality or ethics of it. Daniel wanted to believe that he gave Jeff what he deserved. Although, he couldn’t help but imagine how it would affect his family like how Jack and Emma’s death affected himself. Tears streamed down Daniel’s face. It may not be true, but Daniel wanted to be reassured that he was not a horrible being. Suddenly, cold air brushed against Daniel’s shoulder.

“You did the right thing,” A familiar, raspy voice spoke.

[irresistiibles]

was that justin h. min? oh no no, that was just ben hargreeves, a canon character from the umbrella academy. they are thirty years old and are aware that they are not actually from washington dc. too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.

how long has your character been here

like two weeks

what is your character’s job

he's working part time at a movie theater but it's not like he's committed to the job, he mostly just wants to be able to see movies for cheap

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom

the end of season two after the scene with viktor. i am playing an umbrella academy ben rather than sparrow ben, so he remembers dying as a teenager and then sticking around klaus as a ghost for years

has any magic affected your character

he's alive again so that's something

any other info!

i did not watch season four but i do know how ben actually died and hello??? dude deserved much better

honestly ben is a chill nice dude, but he's also a little weirdo. he's way too used to being a ghost.

it definitely makes unintentionally awkward social situations for him. like ben will just stop and blatantly listen to other people's conversations, and give his input when eavesdropping forgetting that other people can hear him

can absolutely be a sarcastic little shit.

has tentacles he can summon for combat but he's not really fond of them and he definitely has some bad memories associated with them

living with his mom and some of his family as he gets settled

potential plots:

friends of all sorts. please give him some. he needs people to talk to, and go to the movies with, and try restaurants with or just be quiet reading friends with

honestly he should join a book club

casual dates, guys or girls cause idk how to write straight people. he doesn't really have an experience or idea what he's doing in that department but he would like to try lol

a bad influence maybe. listen he's not gonna get too crazy, he's seen klaus do way too much stupid shit to get there, but he's also a little naïve and over eager and could be talked into some dumb shit. i think he should be allowed to get stupid drunk at least once.

any coworkers or frequent movie goers he could know from work

anyone to help him adjust to the world of the living who will be patient with him being a little weirdo

late night friends. i feel like ben is not used to being perceived and sometimes prefers to do things late when there aren't many people, so he can hang out with the insomniacs or people who don't sleep well

an accidental enemy or fight? like i said ben does speak up when he shouldn't and listen in on convos so he could definitely get some bad vibes going by mistake.

some other people with some more destructive powers that he could vibe with.

i'm also just happy to brainstorm he's easy to get along with

[geekgemsspooksandtoons]

Okay, spoilers for Marvel's Spider-Man 2 to my followers who haven't played the game or if you don't mind. I'm going to...vent in a sense or suggest a crazy idea because I want to talk about this.

Despite the fact they would have to rehaul the game's story.

I still don't like Harry as Venom. But I swear, if the developers had to somehow really tie Eddie into it without making it overcomplicated. Even if this idea seems crazy. Here's this idea they could've done.

Take out the hints and mentions of Eddie from the first two games. Mainly Eddie's name on that one card here.

If the developers are Hell bent on the idea of Harry being Venom. Here's what they could've done. They could've done this story where Harry as he's had the symbiote off for a while. As he's remembering his mother. He somehow finds out he isn't actually an Osborn; he was actually adopted. His real name is actually Edward Brock. But his name was changed to Harry after his birth father straight up abandoned him. Including learning his birth mother died giving birth to him.

Norman and Emily were going to one day tell Harry he was adopted. But when Emily died, Norman essentially forgot and decided it wasn't worth telling Harry. Because Harry developed the same sort of disease which we are going to call it "Cancer" and take elements from Eddie Brock's later years as a character. This information distraught Harry. Along with everything else around him going wrong.

He's slowly dying, his best friend isn't giving back the symbiote, the Emily May Foundation is destroyed, he doesn't feel like he's good enough for his father. And one of the worst things he's now discovered is that his "Mother" who he idolized wasn't actually his mother. And his birth father actually abandoned him to die.

When getting the symbiote back, all that anger built up, he seeks to "Heal the world" in his own way. But killing the ones who have wronged him and others. Yet also, to protect the innocent from those. Possibly any surviving villains that Kraven had not killed. And keep Kraven alive towards the end. Venom is killing villains that should've survived till later, hunters, cultists and whoever else.

Harry or Eddie in this case has become the "Venom" to all those people that needed to be punished. As "Venom" has been used in medicine sometimes to treat pain and other sorts of things that people have talked about.

Maybe you can still have the symbiote invasion stuff. But I'm not sure about that. Because while it's visually awesome and cool to play. I feel it doesn't fully fit the story or it becomes...less personal in a sense. And taking elements from Donny Cate's Venom run without putting in the substance. And sadly, not paying him any royalties too.

And let me be honest. This honestly sounds SO MUCH WORSE if they went with this. It sounds like a bastardized amalgamation of Harry and Eddie. It's much better when these two are separate characters. Especially Harry's time as the Green Goblin which I know they're building that character up with Norman. Yet Insomniac pretty much screwed up Venom. Even if they were to make that Venom game with Eddie in it.

Also, despite how much I love Kraven in the game. I feel like they could've maybe used Sin Eater in this game if we're going to have Venom but...that's a whole other discussion.

[thebeesareback]

So I have, unfortunately, now completed reading all of the Sherlock Holmes books. They were absolutely bonkers, often problematic, and fairly funny. This has meant that I now need something to take over my insomniac mornings, so I tried a little Dickens, because I remember it being absolutely tedious when I read it at school.

It's hilarious. Here is the first chapter of Oliver Twist:

Among other public buildings in a certain town, which for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning, and to which I will assign no fictitious name, there is one anciently common to most towns, great or small: to wit, a workhouse; and in this workhouse was born; on a day and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat, inasmuch as it can be of no possible consequence to the reader, in this stage of the business at all events; the item of mortality whose name is prefixed to the head of this chapter.

For a long time after it was ushered into this world of sorrow and trouble, by the parish surgeon, it remained a matter of considerable doubt whether the child would survive to bear any name at all; in which case it is somewhat more than probable that these memoirs would never have appeared; or, if they had, that being comprised within a couple of pages, they would have possessed the inestimable merit of being the most concise and faithful specimen of biography, extant in the literature of any age or country.

Although I am not disposed to maintain that the being born in a workhouse, is in itself the most fortunate and enviable circumstance that can possibly befall a human being, I do mean to say that in this particular instance, it was the best thing for Oliver Twist that could by possibility have occurred. The fact is, that there was considerable difficulty in inducing Oliver to take upon himself the office of respiration,—a troublesome practice, but one which custom has rendered necessary to our easy existence; and for some time he lay gasping on a little flock mattress, rather unequally poised between this world and the next: the balance being decidedly in favour of the latter. Now, if, during this brief period, Oliver had been surrounded by careful grandmothers, anxious aunts, experienced nurses, and doctors of profound wisdom, he would most inevitably and indubitably have been killed in no time. There being nobody by, however, but a pauper old woman, who was rendered rather misty by an unwonted allowance of beer; and a parish surgeon who did such matters by contract; Oliver and Nature fought out the point between them. The result was, that, after a few struggles, Oliver breathed, sneezed, and proceeded to advertise to the inmates of the workhouse the fact of a new burden having been imposed upon the parish, by setting up as loud a cry as could reasonably have been expected from a male infant who had not been possessed of that very useful appendage, a voice, for a much longer space of time than three minutes and a quarter.

As Oliver gave this first proof of the free and proper action of his lungs, the patchwork coverlet which was carelessly flung over the iron bedstead, rustled; the pale face of a young woman was raised feebly from the pillow; and a faint voice imperfectly articulated the words, “Let me see the child, and die.”

The surgeon had been sitting with his face turned towards the fire: giving the palms of his hands a warm and a rub alternately. As the young woman spoke, he rose, and advancing to the bed’s head, said, with more kindness than might have been expected of him:

“Oh, you must not talk about dying yet.”

“Lor bless her dear heart, no!” interposed the nurse, hastily depositing in her pocket a green glass bottle, the contents of which she had been tasting in a corner with evident satisfaction.

“Lor bless her dear heart, when she has lived as long as I have, sir, and had thirteen children of her own, and all on ’em dead except two, and them in the wurkus with me, she’ll know better than to take on in that way, bless her dear heart! Think what it is to be a mother, there’s a dear young lamb do.”

Apparently this consolatory perspective of a mother’s prospects failed in producing its due effect. The patient shook her head, and stretched out her hand towards the child.

The surgeon deposited it in her arms. She imprinted her cold white lips passionately on its forehead; passed her hands over her face; gazed wildly round; shuddered; fell back—and died. They chafed her breast, hands, and temples; but the blood had stopped forever. They talked of hope and comfort. They had been strangers too long.

“It’s all over, Mrs. Thingummy!” said the surgeon at last.

“Ah, poor dear, so it is!” said the nurse, picking up the cork of the green bottle, which had fallen out on the pillow, as she stooped to take up the child. “Poor dear!”

“You needn’t mind sending up to me, if the child cries, nurse,” said the surgeon, putting on his gloves with great deliberation. “It’s very likely it will be troublesome. Give it a little gruel if it is.” He put on his hat, and, pausing by the bed-side on his way to the door, added, “She was a good-looking girl, too; where did she come from?”

“She was brought here last night,” replied the old woman, “by the overseer’s order. She was found lying in the street. She had walked some distance, for her shoes were worn to pieces; but where she came from, or where she was going to, nobody knows.”

The surgeon leaned over the body, and raised the left hand. “The old story,” he said, shaking his head: “no wedding-ring, I see. Ah! Good-night!”

The medical gentleman walked away to dinner; and the nurse, having once more applied herself to the green bottle, sat down on a low chair before the fire, and proceeded to dress the infant.

What an excellent example of the power of dress, young Oliver Twist was! Wrapped in the blanket which had hitherto formed his only covering, he might have been the child of a nobleman or a beggar; it would have been hard for the haughtiest stranger to have assigned him his proper station in society. But now that he was enveloped in the old calico robes which had grown yellow in the same service, he was badged and ticketed, and fell into his place at once—a parish child—the orphan of a workhouse—the humble, half-starved drudge—to be cuffed and buffeted through the world—despised by all, and pitied by none.

Oliver cried lustily. If he could have known that he was an orphan, left to the tender mercies of church-wardens and overseers, perhaps he would have cried the louder.

Anyway, now I'm reading Emma by Jane Austen because I hate the narrator's voice for Oliver Twist

[tanjirou-no-au]

I posted 88 times in 2022

That's 88 more posts than 2021!

31 posts created (35%)

57 posts reblogged (65%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@thepariahcontinuum

@yuki2sksksk

@insomniac-jay

@shieldmaiden19

@candlecoo

I tagged 39 of my posts in 2022

#bnha - 28 posts

#mha - 28 posts

#bnha rewrite au - 14 posts

#izuku midoriya - 10 posts

#twisted fates au - 8 posts

#class 1a - 6 posts

#tenko shimura - 5 posts

#class 1b - 4 posts

#shoto todoroki - 4 posts

#tomura shigaraki - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 31 characters

#give me the spicy chicken man!!

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

BNHA Rewrite 1A: The Minor Characters

And finally, the background characters.

Mashiro Ojiro - Lion Dance

First off, his Quirk is called Lion Tail, a combo of his mother’s Leomorph Quirk and his father’s Monkey Tail.

Beyond the tail, he has claws, sharp teeth, and longer toes that afford him better grip.

Prefers Wado-Ryu Karate & Monkey Style Kung Fu.

Slightly more aggressive, always up for a challenge.

Grew up in a dojo, son of two martial artists. Skilled poet, Tokoyami is jealous.

While his tail tuft is blonde, his hair is actually black and dyed to match.

Sparring partners and friends with Uraraka, alongside Kirishima, Sato, & Hagakure.

Best martial artist in 1A, neck in neck with Nirengeki for best in First Year.

Tooru Hagakure - Transluminescent

Her costume is made from her hair (like Mirio’s).

Pink & blue crystalline bodysuit and pocket skirt.

Trans rights.

Much better handle on her light refraction abilities, and buff as hell.

Got through the Entrance Exam by blinding a drone, ripping off a leg and going to town.

Helps out Todoroki during USJ by luring villains into the woods, away from him.

Rikido Sato - Sugarman

Sugar Rush increases muscle 'output’ instead of just strength.

This includes fast twitch muscles, (granting him limited superspeed) and the brain (Though, combined with the drawback it usually ends up a net neutral)

Looks up to O’Clock. Midoriya’s convinced he could mimic O’Clock’s powers.

Best friends w/ Ojiro & Kirishima.

Koji Koda - Anivoice

His Quirk is named Nature’s Call.

Borders between talking and and command.

Selectively mute, but has trouble with JSL due to his face hampering traditional facial expressions. Still, JSL buddies with Jirou, Bakugo & Shinso.

Still growing the ‘Antennae’ that would allow him to use his Quirk telepathically.

Gets along surprisingly well with Kaminari & Shinso.

Has a crush on Jirou.

See the full post

9 notes - Posted November 25, 2022

#4

Okay, here me out:

Relatively standard roleswap, Slayer Nezuko & Demon Tanjiro, maybe with Nezuko wielding some derivative of Water and/or Flame Breathing (I’m partial to Vine or Magma for the name) but the big changes are her first two companions:

Genya Shinazugawa: An aggressive, cagey, but ultimately noble & kind Slayer who lacks a Breathing form, though he makes up for it any other way he can, like guns, repetitive actions, poisons and a surprisingly keen tactical mind. And his demon eating ability, though he tends to keep it under wraps for somewhat obvious reasons.

Muichirou Tokito, a…loopy if nice amnesiac Mist Breather with a tendency to zone out and is generally regarded as having the survival instincts of a lemming, save for moments where he either hyper focuses or loses touch with reality altogether (there’s genuine debate on the matter) and busts out moves worthy of a Hashira.

Their age mates among the core are Aoi & Senjuro (mostly unchanged, but I might swap them out for each other) The ruthless tsuguko Inosuke, Zenitsu ( who I’m unsure of. The Genya to Kaigaku’s Sanemi? Another Tsuguko? Someone like Aoi or Senjuro?) and the seemingly emotionless youngest Hashira, Kanao Tsuyuri…

10 notes - Posted September 25, 2022

#3

Random BNHA HC/AU:

Both Izuku and Shigaraki have read Wildbow’s Parahuman Web series, and get into intense fanboying sessions/debates about it.

Shigaraki: What power would you have?

Izuku, currently tied up: Skitter’s. Even without Panacea’s modifications the tactical applications of her power are-(descends into long, detailed explanation)

The rest of the LoV:...

AfO, having flashbacks through the monitor:...

Bakugo, also tied up: What the fuck Deku!?

10 notes - Posted November 19, 2022

#2

BNHA HC of the day: Dabi & Nine were both Shigaraki’s ‘backups’ that were seen in Chapter 350, kids whose Quirks strained their bodies, and thus would provide ample experiments for Garaki’s body strengthening procedure.

Six, meanwhile, was essentially an attempt to create a body from scratch.

Nine was the only survivor, at least partially because Touya (Four) burnt down the orphanage.

11 notes - Posted November 23, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Villain Deku Idea: Singularity

Admittedly, this is more a Quirk Idea than an actual character, but I still want to put it out there.

A DFO AU where Izuku’s power is a true hybrid of AFO & Pull, able to steal Quirks at a distance...but with a twist.

The Quirk, “Singularity” acts similar to a power exhibited by the character Eidolon from the web serial Worm, which allowed the character in question to essentially drain the overarching “superpower provider” so to say, of other superhumans. 

When Singularity is triggered, it begins to "Pull in” nearby Quirks, lessening the potency of Emitter & Transformation types while complex Mutants begin to recede, leaving the normal human underneath. Izuku in turn can begin to use these powers in ever increasing potency, until Singularity is turned off, the victim leaves the Quirk’s area of effect, or they are left essentially Quirkless. 

Quirk usage increases the rate of draining, and more powerful Quirks take longer to drain. The big catch is, the draining is only temporary, and once Singularity is released, or they get far enough away, the drained Quirks will return their owners...

...Unless they’re killed before Singularity ends. 

The other big catch is that when the original wielder is killed, Izuku only gets the  power he drained, and not the full Quirk, and he can’t stack Quirks like AFO, though he can use enhancers to buff up his other powers, and he can only use three of his powers at once.

It cannot be stolen by AFO, and does not directly affect AFO (though both can drain each other’s stolen Quirks) or OFA

17 notes - Posted December 5, 2022

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