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qtkoshi · 11 months

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hobie and his bubblegum s/o

- I’m sorry y’all no i’m not, but i am not immune to the preppy x outcast trope and i - no i am not submitting to the idea of being a rockers gf leave me alone i absolutely am s/o to @dizscreams for prompting this idea never claimed to be a writer ;; im just ramblin

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hobie brown wasn’t afraid to go against the common narrative. wasn’t afraid of many things, actually (as we know). he was loud, abrasive. tough.

and then there was you. soft and all smiles. it was a little sickening to be honest: how someone so bubbly and sweet complimented him so well.

but let’s not get it twisted, it’s not as if you were the one to round out his edges. despite the obvious clashes in personal style, you both carried similar ideologies in life, and in so carried a mutual respect in each other’s individuality and comfort. and what more could hobie really ask for in a partner?

additional headcannons i can’t stop thinking of:

wearing his jacket casually around >> you’re in an all pink fit? don’t care, the jacket smells like him and he likes seeing you in his clothes (makes him proud to let others know your his not that he would conform to dated notions of ownership tho so shhh)

omg swapping styles?? did it one time as a joke, now you both catch yourself wearing pieces incorporated into your outfits that remind you of the other. (cutesy metal flower and butterfly chokers?? modified spikes added onto your accessories???)

firm believer in this man being so so comfortable in his own self and masculinity. fuck do you mean i’ll look girly? give me the damn plushy rn

thinking of u possibly doing dance or cheer and? y’all both going to each other’s shows and sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd, but neither of y’all give a fuck bc that’s your baby up there and man are u proud

patching him up with hello kitty bandages (which he thinks are cool as fuck).

the bubblegum is from u btw says it reminds him of u

making playlists for each other???? omg → actually have more overlap than ppl think; both love to explore genres (also helps that they’re ur fave songs, bc if u love them there has to be something gud about them right?)

this song with y'all actually

if u see me adding more on this later, don’t worry ab it

⊗

#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderpunk #hobie brown #me??#writing????#and thats the power of hobie babey #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #atsv #across the spiderverse x reader #spiderpunk x reader #hobart brown x reader #hobie۫ ִ✮

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arcanespillo · 8 months

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“Damaged Goods”

SPN S14E11

#spn #supernatural #me??#oh god #spn 14x11 #sam winchester #dean winchester #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #damaged goods #get mad girl #screencaps #screenshots

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jazzythursday · 8 months

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Prompts: Diamond | Longing | Corrosion (876 words)

A sharp intake of breath, only to be met with brackish water climbing up his nose and through his airways. The cold and harsh slap of it, fresh and stinging with remembered wounds.

In dreams, it came all at once, shifting and writhing like the letters on ledgers he couldn’t ever read, couldn’t ever touch. Memories corroded with salt-brine and time, gone hazy and altogether larger in his head than they could have possibly been in real life. Linearity was a thing made impossible, and life was circle.

In dreams it was hands, it was water, it was falling.

In dreams he was choking, and it was Prior’s hands, until it was his father’s. Wylan was on the boat, and he was dying. He was in his father’s office, and those same hands wrapped around his neck with hatred burning in ice blue eyes like nothing that Wylan could ever hope to change. He was swimming, he was walking, he was floating, he was gone.

He was looking up at stars shining like diamonds in the dark, and his mother was next to him. They were lying on their backs on a blanket in the yard, and he was smiling. Looking up at clusters of light that he was told made shapes. Made stories. She was teaching him the lines and shapes of them, holding his hand up to trace the pinpricks of white on the dark canvas with hers, like she did when they were painting.

She was pointing at the Great Bear and the Small Bear that lived together in the sky. A mother and her son. So they could be together, always. Safe in the stars.

Like us, Mamma? he asked. But she blew away with the breeze like dust shimmering in the sunlight, before she could answer.

She was gone, and he longed to be held in a way that didn’t hurt. He longed to be touched in a way that didn’t bruise. He was looking up at stars that didn’t speak, couldn’t help, didn’t hear. He was choking on the alphabet, words forced down his throat by hands that used to brush his hair and kiss his head. He was swimming to the Barrel but he was still a child, the child he’d been. The child that, no matter how he tried to hide it, he still felt he was. The child that cried for her, though she was too far away to hear. The child that cried for the solitary mother bear in the sky, and he was alone.

He was at the bottom the canal, where the light couldn’t reach, where stars didn’t shine, forgotten like the bodies in the barge, left to rot like a living corpse, like a bloodstain on a cream carpet. A beaten cheek resting tiredly above. A body left to pick itself up or else die with it’s shame spilling out in ruby red and tarnished gold and saltwater.

He was alone, always alone, and it was worse than the rising waters and cruel words and crushing hands. It was worse.

Wylan woke gasping, hands immediately pulling the collar of his nightshirt away from his throat to press to his beating pulse and hold himself there, chest heaving. His eyes clenched tightly on their own accord, and he pinched his mouth shut as nausea raced through him with the fear that pounded in his heart.

Dreams, always in dreams. It was reality falsified, memory made gruesome. The nightmares slipped through his fingers, ephemeral. Fear and remembrance and cursed imagination, coming for him with claws.

In dreams, Wylan drowned, but in waking it was this:

A warm body, just next to his. Shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. A boon in a black sea. Ghost light in the shadows. Stars, shining through the dark.

Wylan breathed.

There was soft tones and honeyed words. Gentle murmurs in his ear and quiet comforts, calling him home. A hand smoothed lightly over his hair, a kiss pressed softly to his temple.

Wylan opened his eyes.

He saw the question in Jesper’s eyes, and he nodded. Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him gently back, and he went without hesitation. Everything was still, if not for the way his breathing was unsteady and rough. If not for how he shook. He buried his face in the crook of Jesper’s neck, and hid.

Jesper’s hands were sure, and steady. They smoothed over his hair and rubbed softly against his shoulders until the tenseness of his muscles started to loosen. Jesper kept speaking, dulcet tones and soothing reassurance and, It’s okay, love—We’re home—We’re safe—I’ve got you—It’s okay—Wylan held onto the words as much as he could (held onto Jesper even tighter). He let them guide him back until his heart stopped pounding and his hands stopped shaking and the world felt a little more real.

“Jes,” he croaked.

“Back with me, love?”

Wylan nodded, burrowing closer.

“You’re here,” he said. He did not mean for it to sound surprised.

“Always,” Jesper said, lips pressed into Wylan’s hair, hands holding him together at his sides. He did not ask what Wylan meant, he already knew. “I’ll always be here.”

In dreams Wylan drowned, but he always had this to wake up to, every time. And every time he did, Wylan knew, without a doubt, that he was no longer alone.

#I can’t decide if this is Geldstraat or the Slat era honestly #a drabble for your troubles?#poetic prose?#me??#more likely than you think #jazzy writes #jazzy writes fanfic #wesper fic club #shadow and bone #wylan van eck #six of crows #wesper #jesper fahey #soc fanfic #sab fanfiction #wesper fanfic

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widdlediddle2 · 1 year

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some hamanda maybe?