Besties I started writing SPORfic and instead of it just being them reflecting on their current situation, it ended becoming the most horrific thing I wrote,

what the fuck man the W, E and K keys on my keyboard seem to have gotten jammed or something while i was in the middle if writing that post about demon ass cheeks

There is a reason why Gods don't die.

There is a reason why they are sent away, or caged, abandoned in celestial cells.

There is a reason why they have their own home, where no mortal shall ever wander, a place to confine them.

There is a reason why Gods don't die.

There is a reason why people lock them up instead.

Many reasons, really.

Because they are too powerful, yet not impossible to kill.

Because they are still useful.

Because the natural order of things would be shaken and changed beyond recognition.

I suppose that one doesn't matter much, anymore.

But the main reason, and please listen to this cautionary tale that my friends had to learn the hard way, the main reason is...

It's not a pretty death.

It's not some magnificent, nor graceful thing to witness.

The death of a being of that caliber is wrong in so many levels, not even the brave of heart or the strongest of demigods should ever endure.

It will drive them mad, because it's got nothing to do with courage or power. You'd have to be wired a different way to not flinch and recoil at the sight of that.

It will haunt their dreams and their days.

Doesn't matter if the God has gone rogue or is simply cruel, nature doesn't understand morality in that sense. All beings deserve to live and be dealt with in their own respectful ways. Remember that.

Remember that, so it doesn't happen again.

There is a reason why Gods don't die.

Now you know why.

would you guys forgive me if I started drawing ddadds.

handwriting tag

tagged by @gimbapchefs @monvante and @kithtaehyung!! 💕

rules:

1) say hello

2) write the numbers 1-9

3) write the alphabet

4) write: the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog

5) write a quote of your choice

my handwriting is disgustaaanngggg fam 🤣 i was never that go-to person when someone needed notes because my handwriting back in school was 🥴🥴🥴 i got super nervous while i was doing this btw skshsjdhsjd

tagging @calicooky @taelepathysroom @pjmsdior @gukniverse @loverjimin @mintagust @hoseom @marvelousbangtan @cowboyjinbop @aestaeticbts @userjiminie @jimindelune @nvmguk idk who else to tag 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

Thank you @seeyoufuckinglaterson for tagging me!

Rules: tag 9 people you want to get to know better

°Favorite colour: green

°Currently reading: Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo

°Last song: Montero by Lil Nas

°Last movie: Better Days

°Last series: Buffy, the vampire slayer :))

°Sweet, savoury or spicy: savoury

°Craving: many things but always ice cream :))

°Tea or coffee: coffee

°Currently working on: Chan's oneshot from the Streets series and some drabbles

I'll tag @ravyeolii @smileysuh @merakiiverse @wonwooslibrary @justasoftstan

Before I could leave, I had to play a show. My father tried to talk me out of it. I told him I am not just going to leave the ensemble in the lurch when they have to play tomorrow. He understood. I stood on stage with my bass, on the grand patio, and I played some funk music. No one paid us much attention that afternoon. From the stage, I could see it all. Drunk revelers in polos and salmon shorts. Students flitting about from class to class. My father looking like a sour piece of fish. A glimpse of platinum blonde hair in the far away. Watching from behind a pillar. Blink. She’d gone. Afterwards, the head of the jazz school came down to me and asked me how I was. I told him I’d just gotten out of the hospital. He said he knew and he had so much respect for me. He asked if I was staying for next week. I told him, no, I had to go home. He looked disappointed. ‘Oh, alright.’ he said. I waved to the other folks in the band. I packed my bass up. We left that night.

(Here’s Grif and Simmons being stupid and not just accepting the fact that they are destined to snuggle)

The first time they slept together had been because they were both wiped-out after running training drills all day; they flopped down in the barracks, intending to head to the showers, but were too tired to get back up again. They landed on a cot… it wasn’t either of their cots, just some cot, but nobody tried to move them, and they fell asleep next to each other, still in their armor. They woke up about 4 hours later, now irritated because they felt gross (no shower), and hungry (no lunch). They didn’t even acknowledge the fact that they had been half-way all over each other, they just got up, muttering and complaining, with Grif stumbling off to find food and Simmons finally going to get clean.

Between then and being sent to Blood Gulch, there was maybe 5 or 6 more times when Grif nodded off sitting next to Simmons while they were supposed to be waiting for orders, or riding in a transport. Simmons would try to shove the other guy off, but Grif always fell back onto him (sometimes nearly crushing him). Once, Simmons had stayed up late re-reading some handbook about how to not get shot, and fell asleep sitting at a desk. Grif had been nearby, pretending to read a different handbook but REALLY sneaking some chocolate snacks he smuggled in. Simmons wound up leaning over, until he was pressed against Grif. Once Grif realized the dude was passed-out, he kind of just shrugged (thinking that Simmons was basically a human-shield to block the view of his snack), and went back to the chocolate.

The next time they slept together was at Red Base, when Grif had fallen asleep in Simmons’ bed and refused to move. Simmons did everything but literally kick him off the mattress (though such a thin little mat of fabric could BARELY be called that). Once again, they were wiped-out from running around all day… Sarge was merciless, and Blood Gulch was hot as hell. Simmons’ bed just happened to be closer to the door than Grif’s, and Grif wasn’t going to take another step. Simmons sat down on the side of his bed next to the wall and tried to roll Grif away… and even that was too much trouble. He’d only managed to make enough space for himself, so he gave up, pulled the only pillow out from under Grif’s head, and scrunched as far away from the bed-stealing a-hole as possible, until Simmons was pressed up to the wall. At least this time, they had both managed to shower first. Later, when they woke up (and discovered that they once again wound up half-way all over each other), Simmons had chewed him out for being so inconsiderate and annoying. Grif simply flipped Simmons off (he was far less concerned about sharing sleeping space, having grown up with a little sister who was always right THERE). A few more times where they were supposed to be keeping a look-out, and Grif would start napping. A few more times where Simmons stayed up too late and then just passed out. Whoever fell asleep first, the other one was always nearby, and somebody would lean against somebody else.

There came an incident at Red Base where they technically slept together… because Grif had been hurt. Badly. Between all the trauma to his body and the blood loss, he nearly died. Thanks to a rushed and risky surgery from Sarge, he didn’t. The main problem was; Sarge had various ways to replace the limbs and organs that were injured or failing, but Grif’s nerves were damaged… his body would reject anything inorganic. If they had better equipment and materials, maybe they could have created something synthetic that would work… but they only had scraps and junk. Simmons knew he and Grif had compatible blood (he had memorized his own medical information, and had seen Grif’s enough times when doing the files for Red Team to remember certain things like this). So, he offered to donate what Grif would need. By working slowly on Simmons, Sarge was able to add the cybernetics bit by bit, and his body accepted them. Before getting knocked-out for the surgery, Simmons asked Sarge not to tell Grif why he was doing this… if Grif knew how dire this had been, it would just be more complicated than it already was. Too sentimental and serious. He didn’t want Grif to feel all… guilty about it, or  read into it too deeply, or... something. Sarge had agreed, and then Simmons slipped off. Grif was unconscious next to him.

The excuse used to explain why this surgery happened the way it did; Simmons was simply more “trustworthy” as a cyborg soldier than Grif. This barely made any sense, but hardly ANYTHING Sarge said did, so it was an accepted answer. Later, Simmons had to deal with being heavier and lop-sided, while Grif had to deal with having mis-matched limbs and feeling light-headed. The metal bits on Simmons pinched painfully and itched where they connected to flesh. Grif’s new arm and leg would sometimes go numb (and freak him out, because what if this meant they were DYING or something?), and sting him with pins and needles when they woke back up. They got used to it, the same way they got used to each other.

Simmons nagged Grif to quit smoking because those were HIS lungs in there (he really just didn’t want Grif to ruin his own breathing again). Grif ignored the nagging for a while… but he started to ease up, and eventually stopped. It was just too much of a hassle to keep getting his hands on cigarettes, and food started tasting better now that he quit. Those were perfectly believable reasons. One evening, when Grif had been dealing with a nic-fit, Simmons helped distract him by playing cards on the floor in their room at Red Base. He didn’t mention that he KNEW Grif was trying to quit (because that might make Grif start smoking again out of spite). They talked for a while, about nothing in particular, and Grif started to settle down. They had pulled some blankets down onto floor with them, and as the hours went by, they went from sitting to being sprawled out next to each other as they talked. Before he could stop it, Grif passed out, dead asleep. Simmons thought about sorting out the cards, putting them away, gathering up his blanket, putting it back on his bed… and had a rare moment of laziness. He stayed on the floor, next to Grif, and slept there too.

After that, there had been more than a dozen different times when they slept together. Some of them had been due to passing out from exhaustion and lack of space. Once or twice, it happened with the excuse of needing to share body-heat (sure, they had been somewhere cold… but there were other ways to keep warm. This had been “easier” though. That was all. Yeah). Occasionally, only one of them was asleep, and the other couldn’t be bothered to move (Grif was heavy- that was the excuse when Simmons was awake. Grif was lazy- that was the excuse when Simmons was asleep). A lot of times, they were in their armor. A few times, they were in fatigues. Very rare incidents involved one of them having what appeared to be a nightmare… and they were already sleeping in the same room, anyway… so the other would simply come over to sit by them, talk to them, help them calm down… and then wind up leaning down to sleep as well. Not that they really cared THAT much. Not that this was anything IMPORTANT. It was just… easier to sleep side-by-side, offering mild comfort to each other (which was NOT special or significant in anyway), than to listen to somebody bitch about being tired the next day. Grif usually would anyway, he was ALWAYS tired, but his bitching sounded extra pathetic when he had been up half the night, dealing with some kind of horror in his own head. Simmons would sometimes still be jumpy in the morning, like whatever freaked him out in his own imagination had followed him into the waking world. It was easier for them both to talk through the night, distract each other, and then just sleep… together.

omggg theyre so in love 😍😍😍

True Love's Last Kiss

Pairing: Leon x Leri (MC)

Rating: Mature; Word count: 1252; Read on AO3

Tags: Spoilers for the AMR demo; Not canon compliant - Leon and Leri (MC) started their relationship half a year before the final battle; Established Relationship; Angst; Hurt No Comfort; Feels; Heartbreak

A Mage Reborn demo 👑✨ @mage-parivir

Fic title inspo from the song - True Love's Last Kiss (Eternal Eclipse) 🎶 🤍

“Why did you do it?”

The question grates on his mind like long nails on a blackboard. A restless needle poking at his brain.

Why, why, why?

He heard it so many times, from so many people. 

Why? Murderer. Traitor. Why, why, why?

Asking, shouting, demanding, threatening, using force so he breaks and tells them.

Why?

He endured. 

“It had to be done.” Wearily he says the same thing he said to others. Over and over again, because they wouldn’t listen even if he told the truth. He was already doomed in their eyes, maybe from the start. No one likes a stray that gets the attention of those in power and steals them from you.

“Tell me your reasons. Why did you do it?”

But the way Leon asks the same question is different. He demands like a king he is. The way he squares his shoulders like he prepares for an attack, the jut of his chin when he stands up to a challenge. The fire in his eyes, dark in their silent fury and only a gentle tremble of his voice betrays how deeply Leri’s repeated words sting. 

Right now Leri is the enemy that refuses to be conquered and he’s aware how stubbornly clever Leon is with his foes.

“I know who you are, Melmesne.” 

Oh. So they’re using that to paint him a villain. Briefly, he wonders who was so smart to dig up that particular information, serving it to their king to fuel his wrath. The venom in his voice when he spits Leri’s forgotten surname feels like a slap to the face and he closes his eyes. The phantom feeling of a knife in his chest twists without mercy. He feels it since he’s learnt in the ruins of the old laboratory of what has to be done to stop the countdown to a massacre.

“Did you plan it? Pretended to be a friend, use me, use all of us just to strike when it suits you best?” 

Leri silently watches how Leon prowls in front of his cell, like an agitated predator that would tear into his prey at the smallest provocation. He sways on his feet when he slowly gets up from the floor, his bad knee screaming in pain thanks to the hours in one position.

“Did you lie about everything? About us?”

No. 

He didn’t. Even now Leon’s accusations are like a whip cutting at him until he bleeds. And he does bleed, silently.

“Was it lie that you loved me just to bend naive prince to your will?”

No, no, no. 

It’s the first time in his life he was able to taste something as sweet as love and love back. He still does, with every bitter word, keeping it in his heart even if it shatters. 

“Tell me why you did it!”

Leon so rarely asked him for things. Leri never wanted to deny him anything. It hurts to see him like that. To hear the desperation mixed with loathing in his voice. 

Why why why-

It’s too much. It builds and builds until it finally spills.

“There was no other way!” The shout tears straight from the depth of Leri’s chest like thunder. 

Leon flinches, stopping his pacing.

Leri’s breathing hard, shivering. The sudden outburst snuffing out his fragile energy like wind a candle flame. He stumbles, limp hair covering his face as he hangs down his head. Doesn’t see Leon moving closer like he wants to catch him when he curls his dirty hands on the bars of his cell, the chains pulling at the gesture. The bruises flare with fresh pain under the cuffs, threatening to re-open the scabbed wounds on his wrists. 

He doesn’t care.

“No other way.” Leri rasps, leaning his forehead on the cold iron. A second of relief on his feverish skin. He ignores the hot threat of tears at the back of his eyes.

He recoils when Leon’s fingers close over his, holding on tight and he briefly relaxes under the warmth of his palms. 

“Leri…”

He looks up at the face of a man close to his own, bowing over him with all his frame. “Truth can save you.”

Leri blinks, lost in the green eyes so bright he feels like drowning. The hold on his hands grounds him. 

“Let me save you.” Leon whispers, earnest in his hope.

He hates to crush it. Hates the light to dim to nothing when he says softly, “Truth won’t bring back dead.” 

The chain doesn’t allow him to reach for Leon’s face, halting him halfway. His fingertips twitch in the space between them and Leon doesn’t move, gaze fixed on him.

“I promised.” 

Leon’s eyes widen. “Don’t-”

“I promised I’ll come back to you.”

“Stop it, I can’t-” The crack in his voice breaks Leri’s heart further.

The smile on his face hurts, splitting the cut on his lip. The words taste like copper. “I came back. Aren’t you glad to see me, love?” 

And before Leon’s stricken expression turns into something else Leri’s the first to withdraw, even if it pains him to do it. Stepping back, until there’s a wall behind him, sinking down to the ground in a heap. His head lolls to the side as he watches Leon’s hands flex over the bars, knuckles white in his grip. 

“You waited.”

Leon grits his teeth, jerking his arms away from the cell, eyes burning and too wet for his comfort. He angrily wipes at them, half turning from him and Leri bites the inside of his cheek to keep the hot and heavy tickle in the back of his throat from spreading up.

“Kept your word. Thank you, love.”

Leon chokes on a mirthless laugh, his gaze weighty before he turns his back at him. “You’re so cruel.” 

Before he storms out his parting words reach Leri’s ears, a raw whisper of painful secret. “May the god be merciful to you because I can’t.”

The silence when he’s finally left alone is deafening. 

First, Leon.

Then, Ilya and Saine. 

And after all of them left him, there’s Ante, who quietly peels off from the shadows to show him she’s been there all the time. Listening and observing. She steps close to the cell doors, staring at him wordlessly. The blankness of her face, the rigid stance say it all without voicing it out loud. 

“I was right about you.”

Leri looks at her, golden eyes half lidded. He hurt her companions. She would kill him with her bare hands if not for the orders of keeping him alive until execution.

He’s so tired, the cold of the floor siphoning what little warmth his battered body still has. Leri closes his eyes, the corner of his mouth curling up. 

“It’s good to be right, no?”

And when he’s truly alone the tears leave clean traces on his skin, pouring freely from closed eyes. The chasm in his chest feels almost like during the worst experiments he had to endure. He didn’t know it was possible, to feel pain this great again after what happened to Eli. The risk of having something to lose, the agony of having your heart pulled straight out of you. It would hurt less if it was done literally.

Maybe Nyx will finally swallow him in his death and he'll come back to haunt them all.

A ghost, memento of their mistake. 

But, even if they knew, it’d be too late.

Truth won’t bring back dead.

I have written again!

gods it feels nice to write again. Here, have this chapter for Thicker Than Water.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22983040/chapters/81516544

The Todoroki family at the end of the manga when the authorities come to take Dabi away :

an ode to sharing your craft

I tell myself

the words you say, they cannot

Hurt me. That your emotions and feelings will leave me

unperturbed, but it doesn’t come true. I carve out a piece of myself, vulnerable as it is, and hold it in my palm

repeating, over and over in my head 

“their words don’t matter, their words don’t matter, their words, dont matter” but

surprisingly, they still do 

Maybe, you yelled "I love you, I love you" from the rooftop........but honey the voices in my head were too loud to accept.......

— Nightmare !au¡

!#¡; Solangelo Headcanon

Nico estava encharcado de suor. Os fios negros grudavam em sua testa e a parte de trás de sua blusa parecia estar pingando no colchão. Ele alcançou o próprio rosto, limpando a umidez com a ponta de seus dedos. Tinha acabado de acordar de um pesadelo. Suas pupilas estavam dilatadas e disfocavam a visão do resto do cômodo.

As imagens do sonho continuavam repassando em sua mente. O corpo inerte de Hazel em seus braços. Sua alma lentamente a deixando conforme o sangue escorria viscosamente por suas roupas. Nico conseguiu ver uma única lágrima escorrendo dos olhos de sua irmã. Ele não tinha conseguido protegê-la. Da mesma forma que Bianca. Era sua culpa que ela tinha morrido

Nico sentiu seus olhos lacrimejarem. Abraçou os joelhos, soltando um soluço que estava preso em sua garganta. Teve que resistir ao impulso de levantar e correr atrás da irmã, apenas para garantir que ela estaria segura. Porém, Hazel estava em Nova Roma e ele não poderia fazer uma viagem nas sombras naquele horário.

Sentiu algo tocar suas costas e subir pela linha de sua coluna. As pontas dos dedos de Will Solace subiam pela blusa molhada de Nico, conforme ele se sentava no colchão ao lado do filho de Hades. Envolveu o mais novo com os dois braços, o puxando para seu colo.

— Nico - a voz do filho de Apollo estava embargada. Will tirou os fios que estavam colados na testa do namorado. - Eu estou aqui. Você está seguro.

Nico afundou o rosto no pescoço de Will. O loiro parecia estar transpirando mais do que o normal, mas Nico não sabia dizer se era por causa do clima. Tentou falar alguma coisa, contudo as palavras simplesmente não queriam surgir. Respirou fundo e tentou novamente.

— Era a Hazel, Will. Eu não consegui chegar a tempo. - Nico lamentou, as lágrimas presas em sua voz. Não queria que o namorado tivesse acordado. Ele tinha passado o dia ajudando na enfermeria, deveria estar cansado. Mas ser consolado por seu abraço o deixava aliviado.

— Foi só um sonho. Hazel está bem em Nova Roma, Neeks. Amanhã mandaremos uma Mensagem de Íris logo cedo. Tudo bem? - A voz de Will parecia estranha, mesmo que as palavras reconfortante parecesse sinceras.

Nico ergueu o rosto, seus olhos encontraram os de Will. Os cilios do filho de Apolo estavam molhados. Ele estava chorando? O peito do moreno se encheu de raiva, se perguntando quem o tinha magoado. Mas lembrou-se que era madrugada e tinha visto Will pegar no sono ao seu lado.

— O que aconteceu? - Nico voltou a se sentar no colchão. Estava com a expressão tão séria que até a flor que ficava na cabeceira pareceu murchar um pouco. - Você estava chorando.

Will inclinou a cabeça para o lado e sorriu. Nico até pensou tê-lo visto brilhar um pouco. O sorriso o desmanchara por completo. Tentou manter sua compostura o quanto pôde, esperando que ele falasse.

— Para falar a verdade, eu também tive um pesadelo. Acho que acordei me sentindo um pouco sentimental, mas já estou me sentindo bem melhor agora - Will passou uma das mãos na parte de trás de seu pescoço, um pouco envergonhado por não ter dito nada antes.

Nico segurou o ombro do loiro e o puxou novamente para perto, abraçado sua cintura. Não eram raros as vezes em que ambos acabavam tento pesadelos juntos. Will normalmente acordava primeiro, fazia um chá e os dois ficavam conversando até um dos dois pegar no sono novamente. O filho de Apolo afagou o cabelo do mais novo, beijando sua bochecha e se afastou, com um sorriso iluminando seu rosto.

— Vem, vou fazer um pouco de chá.

E assim os dois se levantaram, deixando os maus agouros para trás, como em um pegador de sonho. Estavam juntos e nada mais importava.

do i…. want to start writing for spencer reid?? is that it?? maybe i need to dabble into other characters? other worlds? maybe i need to take a legitimate break from haikyuu??

Streetlights