#I don't know what i just wrote

[invalidstories]

Memories

From this prompt by @girlwithherheadinthestars

Warnings: un-edited writing extravaganza, violence, emotional distress, memory loss, betrayal, trauma

It was a moment of happiness, that had taken many years and difficulties to reach. Villain and Hero were standing at the altar of the grand ballroom of the opulent hotel, surrounded by friends and family, and ready to exchange their vows and pledge their love for eternity. The soft glow of candlelight was dancing across the room, casting shadows that seemed to sway to the rhythm of the music. The ceremony began, and the officiant's voice filled the room, speaking words of love and commitment.

It was a perfect night filled with every desire they wanted, but it didn't last long. Just as the officiant was about to pronounce them as partners for life, the doors burst open, and Supervillain stormed into the room with a menacing gleam in their eyes. Their cape billowed behind them as they strode down the aisle, their presence casting a shadow over the joyous occasion.

In the following moments, their lives changed for the worse. Supervillain activated a memory loss ray, unleashing a blinding flash of light that enveloped the entire room. Villain and Hero were struck by the ray, their consciousness fading as memories of their love began to dissolve into nothingness.

When the villain regained consciousness, disoriented and confused Supervillain acted as their love, reassuring them that the gaps in their memory were nothing more than the side-effects of the medicines they had after the little accident.

Meanwhile, the hero was heartbroken to hear the news from their sidekick that the villain had gone missing. They vowed justice and revenge against anyone who stood in their way.

Years later, they met again.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

As Villain finished their latest heist, walking towards the exit with a triumphant grin spreading across their face, they failed to notice the approach of an hero.

"Where do you think you're going?" came the sharp command, cutting through the air like a knife.

Startled, Villain whirled around to face the source of the voice, their heart sinking as they laid eyes on the Hero standing before them, clad in their iconic costume and emanating an aura of determination.

As Villain squared off against the hero before them, a sense of déjà vu washed over them, the presence of the hero surprisingly familiar. The criminal brushed off the feeling, focusing instead on the task at hand.

With a determined glint in their eye, Villain launched themselves into the fray, their movements fluid and precise as they clashed with the hero in a flurry of blows. Despite their best efforts, Hero struggled to keep up, and before long, they found themselves knocked off their feet, tumbling to the ground in a heap.

Seizing the opportunity, Villain closed in on their fallen nesmisistheir heart pounding with adrenaline as they reached out to tear away Hero's mask. But as the fabric fell away, revealing the face beneath, Villain froze, their breath catching in their throat.

"HeroCivilianName?" they whispered, disbelief coloring their voice as they stared into Hero's eyes.

Hero's eyes widened in shock, their heart racing as they struggled to process the revelation. No one alive knew their true identity—no one except...

Before they could finish the thought, Villain removed their own mask, revealing a face that mirrored Hero's astonishment. Tears welled up in Villain's eyes as a flood of memories came rushing back, the weight of years of confusion and heartache lifting from their shoulders.

"I thought you were gone." Hero choked out, their voice thick with emotion as they reached out to embrace Villain, their arms wrapping around them in a tight hug.

Villain returned the embrace, their own emotions running high as they listened to Hero's story of how they had believed Villain to be dead all these years. In turn, they shared their own tale of deceit and betrayal at the hands of Supervillain.

As they stood locked in each other's arms, the weight of their shared past hung heavy in the air. But in that moment, surrounded by the wreckage of their shattered memories, Villain and Hero found solace in each other's embrace, united by a bond that even the cruelest of villains could not break.

Masterlist

#reading #writers on tumblr #hero x villain #short story #villain x hero #hero #villain #villainsxheroes #hero and villain #hero villain #supervillain #hero x sidekick #hero x supervillain #villain x supervillain #lovers to enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #I don't know what i just wrote #and I didn't edit this at all #also #i hate writers block #invalidstories

[foaming-sea]

For some reason I feel so hesitant to post my writing on here these days. Like It feels like I'm giving away something I'm supposed to keep all to myself......Like giving them up....

Like I'm leaving my gold pendent on the leaving room floor, with the door wide open and a "take it" note Like I left the vault door open, and the lights on, gave the guards a vacation, and ignored the open locks

#I don't know what I just wrote #In short for some reason I don't want to post my writings #my writing #chaotic academia #original writing #dark academia #poetry #poetscommunity #poem #poets on tumblr #spilled poetry

[can-of-pringles]

This fic is so self indulging but honestly that's kinda slay of me

#i don't know what i just wrote

[boyofwar]

ooc;; I just know that atreus is book smart, but not street smart, and that he's unaware of certain things that those of his age group are usually aware of at his age. w/e new trends the teens in the nine realms have going on, he's the last one to know. he's the kid that would laugh about a meme, even if he's not sure what's all about just to try and fit in. the kid that starts using that "new" slang terminology a bit too late, because everyone else has moved to something else.

but that's what happens when you live in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with your dad, and your friends are just your uncles, a decapitated head, and a friendly hippie witch.

#{ i know all about nothing } ;; ooc #i don't know what i just wrote

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME #there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing #and the writing is what i need to be doing #writeblr #this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to #edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol #i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!! #my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means #i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her) #hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong #i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet. #i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse #i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!! #i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO #i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness #and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it #im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us #i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer #and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art. #i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work #even if it means being miserable #but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

going through my old journals as part of therapy homework and i'm reading a section written in the emotional wreckage of a full-on breakdown when i get hit with this line:

There is never a satisfying answer to ‘Why didn’t they love me?’

like wow babe. good fucking point

#like you were on the ground biting the carpet and dry sobbing while you wrote that and still. good fucking point #not a shitpost #cptsd #and it's true. there's never a satisfying answer #the truth is i know why i wasn't loved #i analyzed my parent's traumas and abuse to death. i understand why i alienated and was alienated from my siblings #i know why my mom was too overwhelmed to be capable of nurturing #i know why my dad vanished into addiction and avoidance #the details of our cycles of trauma and cptsd and family history i have a phd in all of it #i understood perfectly. i spent years studying and now i knew the answer #and guess what? IT WAS NOT SATISFYING!!! #because they still didn't love me! and i still couldn't change that! #it was still a completely unsatisfying state of affairs! #so like. when the people who are supposed to love you...don't. #when the people who are supposed to take care of you...fail to #you can look for answers and reasons and explanations #but that's not actually going to FIX your situation. #and it's probably not within your ability TO fix the situation. (and definitely not your job) #because you don't need answers--you need a new situation #*inserts Just Walk Out. You Can Leave!!! (Running Skeleton) Meme* #and yes. walking out isn't always possible. #but for you i hope it will be one day soon. and i hope you build the courage to take that leap. #stepping away from the people who failed to love you...it feels like being untethered but also like being lighter than air #new and scary. immensely relieving. the future opens up. empty but empty like a canvas. blindingly bright until your eyes adjust #like climbing out of a pit you called home and for the first time realizing how bright the light of day can truly be #when you aren't just getting glimpses from the bottom of a hole

[laundrybiscuits]

(ETA: now edited and up on AO3)

Look. Eddie knows he can be a little uptight about these things, but. There are rules. If you become a vampire, you don’t need to go full gothic Count Von Dickhead or whatever, but you absolutely cannot just wander around in a puffy vest and light-wash jeans. 

“Why not?” says Steve. He’s leaning back in an armchair, sipping on a bloodbag like it’s a goddamn juicebox. “What, are the vampire police going to arrest me?” 

He pauses. “Wait. There aren’t vampire police, are there?”

“No,” says Eddie. “Probably not. I don’t know. But there are standards which you are refusing to uphold, Steven.”

“Thought you were all about hating conformity, Edward,” Steve says. He’s got an obnoxiously cocky little smirk, the smug undead fucker. 

Eddie grimaces. “Don’t call me that, asswipe. Don’t you feel, like—the call of the night? The siren song of life coursing through fragile human veins? A hunger for destruction that those paltry plastic bags of blood can never truly slake?”

“The bloodbags aren’t so bad,” says Steve, around the straw. “Better than protein shakes.”

“I actually hate you,” Eddie tells him. “Vampirism is wasted on you.”

Steve noisily slurps the last of the blood out of the bottom of the bag. “Come on, you can’t really picture me in some Dracula getup, can you?”

The problem, of course, is that Eddie really, really can. When Robin had read him in on the whole situation, obviously he’d been horrified and concerned—but also, a whole wing of his brain had immediately been cordoned off to work overtime imagining Steve in elaborate Dark Prince regalia, maybe leaning elegantly out of a castle window on the moors, gazing into the foggy dusk. Velvet might’ve been involved.

“...guess not,” says Eddie. It doesn’t sound incredibly convincing to his own ears, but Steve just shrugs and gets up to throw the bloodbag away. 

“There you go, man,” he says, clapping Eddie on the shoulder as he passes. “It’s the 80s. Vampires can be whatever we wanna be.”

———

It gets way too easy to forget about Steve’s condition, until Eddie ends up having to haul him out of a bar in Indy before they get banned for life.  

“Simmer down, buddy,” Eddie says, pulling him into the shadow of the van. “Let’s get those fangs packed away before any of the nice villagers wander by with torches and pitchforks.”

“I’m good,” pants Steve. “It’s all good. Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

Eddie lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. “Sure, that’s why your eyes are glowing red and you’re, like, fully vamped out. Which, by the way, looks extremely dumb with the whole clean-cut vibe you decided to rock tonight.”

“Fuck you, I look great,” says Steve, pushing a hand through his hair. He’s not wrong, it’s just not relevant to how he also looks extremely dumb like this, wearing a pristine henley with fangs hanging out in the parking lot for anyone to see.

“So what the hell happened in there, man? I was finally starting to get somewhere with Todd, and…” Eddie trails off in dawning realization.

“Holy shit, am I—I’m like your territory, aren’t I? Your stupid vampire brain got all screwy and decided to loop me in with Robin and the kids as part of your freaky human coven.”

“Uh,” says Steve. He looks unhappy in a shifty kind of way. “Something like that, maybe.”

“Wait, so, are Nancy and Jonathan—are you okay with them because they’re both already in the vamp pack? Is Vickie gonna have to be inaugurated before she and Robin can bone down?” Eddie perks up. “Shit, is there a ceremony? We could totally do a ceremony.” He bets he can get the kids to liberate some velour curtains from the drama club. With a few candles, they could get some serious atmosphere going.

“No, shut up, nobody’s doing a damn ceremony,” Steve groans. “Vickie’s fine.” 

“Okay,” says Eddie. “So…you gonna tell me what all that was about, then? Do I have to start running guys past you first so your vamp instincts don’t wig out? Or…hm, maybe Argyle’d be down to mess around sometime.”

Steve lets out an actual snarl with weird animal echoes, then claps a hand over his mouth.

“Sorry,” he says, muffled. The shadows around them seem darker somehow. 

“So I’m just not allowed to get laid ever again,” says Eddie slowly. “For vampire reasons.”

“Do whatever you want, man.” Steve’s still got his hand pressed tight over his mouth. 

“And it’s…just me?” Eddie peers at the tightness around Steve’s eyes; the way he’s scowling stubbornly at his feet. “Huh. Kind of…possessive, Harrington.”

“It’s—weird,” says Steve miserably, dropping his hand at last. “I know it’s fucking weird.”

“Maybe.” Eddie shrugs, biting down on the grin he can feel tugging at his mouth. “Lucky for you, I’m into that shit.”

“What?” Steve frowns. “You’re…”

“Always wanted a vampire boyfriend,” says Eddie. “Like, are you kidding? I would’ve sold my fucking soul at 15 for something like that.”

“I’m starting to feel a little objectified here,” says Steve, but he’s smiling, and he reaches out to snag Eddie’s belt loop and tug him stumbling closer. “Just in it for the fangs, huh?”

“Well, you’re kind of a shitty vampire, actually.” Eddie drapes his arms over Steve’s shoulders. “So I guess I must just be in it for you.”

Steve hesitates, searching Eddie’s face. Stray red lights are still sparking like embers in Steve’s irises. “Okay, but—you’re in it? Right?”

“Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, Bunnicula. I’ll send the vampire police after you, just watch me,” says Eddie, and kisses him.

#steddie #vampire steve harrington #I don't know what happened; I just sat down and wrote this even though I have a million other things to do #I was briefly possessed by the spirit of 'what if steve harrington were the least genre-appropriate vampire of all time' #and also my perpetual need to write people with terrible communication skills #I may edit this a bit more when it's not 3am but ftr I am not planning on any continuations

[dreadark]

that ivan loves till is the most obvious thing about them

but. does ivan know that…?

the ivan that regards his own feelings as shallow, the ivan that learned how emotions are expressed only from copying others… does he even know that the love he’s felt for so long is love? probably not. and part of the reason is the one he loves himself

because the easiest example he has of love is till's feelings to mizi. till outright calls it love, and ivan watches him so much he has to be aware of this and till’s love to mizi is totally unselfish, right. he doesn’t seem to actually want much from her—just that she's still there and still "mizi"

but ivan can't be satisfied with just watching he… wants. ivan wants till’s attention, till’s affection—

surely this selfish wanting can’t be love

...no wonder he was never able to express his feelings straightforwardly when he belittles them so much but he can’t stand not having anything either, so he does… whatever he does instead to get any scraps of attention he can, from someone he's convinced doesn't care about him at all only showing affection when till can't see it, right until he knows he's going to die

but ivan's feelings for till are all he still has of himself... to think of them as shallow...

I've seen this translated as "I should've been kinder" to him (till) or to her (sua)

but really, the one he should've been kinder to was himself

#alien stage #alnst #alnst ivan #ivantill #i have a lot of thoughts on till -> mizi too but this is long enough #just attempting to rewrite my twt rambles more coherently #idk why i wrote this so dramatically tho... #'thank you for being the victim of my shallow emotions' is going to haunt me to my grave #ivan's character is just a careful balance between his natural freak nature and his extreme depths of self-loathing #making him the most miserable guy ever #...really once you realize so much of what went wrong is thanks to ivan just hating himself too much to even think of them as friends. well #c...can we bring him back... don't die like this..... #(also you know. with the implications of how 'pets' are treated #wanting someone physically must feel... even more wrong

[kaiserouo]

Tired Ghost

#i don't wanna spend too much time on this #(wrote an essay about how i thought vanguard hacking kit was developed) #yep that's not lorem ipsum #i just wanna see ghost complaining don't judge me too much #i didn't take history class in the ishtar collective (TM) those are all ooc don't actually read into that #if you actually know what im saying then you'd know i probably failed my computer security lesson #also the traveller probably gave them similar tech so their physical architecture should be similar #also ur a nerd lol #destiny 2 #destiny hunter #destiny ghost #destiny 2 art #my art

[cukrkandl]

why does everyone suddenly want fanfiction to be realistic. i just see takes like "oh it's not realistic for the marauders to all be gay, it's the 70s" and like SO WHAT? like did i miss the memo that fanfiction is supposed to be realistic now like why would it be. it's FANFICTION

#on a related note #i think people (on tiktok specifically let's be real) don't know what fanfiction is actually #marauders #also like it's not even unrealistic #you just hate queer people #like i wrote a fic where they're all asexual do you honestly think i care about anything

[meownotgood]

haha hey so apparently someone stole my whole fic... copy and pasted except for tiny things changed... here is the link to their """fic""" (sorry random person I had to steal the reblog from). they've since deleted the fic off their blog + deleted their ao3 + gone on a hiatus so..... that's cool and whatever....... but they have written a lot of other shit so... don't be a dick but maybe check that for funny business too...

#yall I am literally #I don't even know what to say LMFAO #their fic before they deleted it had more notes than mine....... like what..... #I've never had this happen before so I'm just.... in awe........ #is leon similar to aki or something I don't know this man. who are you #it sucks so much too because that fic of mine #is probably my favorite fic I ever wrote #I poured so much love into it #so many little aspects of aki's character that I enjoyed fleshing out #and to just have it stolen #like if you stole a shitty drabble I wouldn't be as wounded but to steal 20k words of love..... #that's messed up man........ #I'm laughing at this but also. crying inside a little #thank you to the person who told me about this because since they deleted it it would be really hard to know otherwise #yeah........... yeah.....

[uncanny-tranny]

The thing that gets me about history and humanity is that you never know what is immortalized, and the things that will be immortalized are things you would never think.

I saw a person sharing a new tattoo, and it was one of Onfim's drawings. A boy who lived so long ago he is barely a blip now, but his drawings meant so much to people that somebody is now permanently marked in their skin with one of those drawings. Do you ever look at the things you make and just sit there and wonder if this is the thing that future people look at? Do you ever look at your art, your writing, your schoolwork, or anything that is yours and just wonder who will find it, who will fall in love with a piece of your humanity and become overwhelmed with emotion over? It's not unlikely. It's not totally unlikely that somebody will find a piece of you in the distant future and devoid of any other context of who you were will still love you because you were here. You were here, and you are still here, even hundreds or thousands of years later. Treat yourself with the same love that so many have for dear Onfim.

#positivity #gentle reminders #if anybody has ancient children's drawings beside onfim let me know they melt my heart #i have always wanted a tattoo of that kind of thing too and i want ideas #see if archeologists dig me up or whomever else they won't find significant tattoos or other things. they will see i have loss.jpeg on me #and i think that's just as important. these people must know that people are silly and weird and don't make sense and that's IMPORTANT #i'm just. so obsessed with this because it's instantly humanizing #what little child hasn't drawn humans with twelve fingers per hand #or those kids drawings where it's only a torso/head conglomerate with stick legs and hands #i just really lived seeing how their tattoo turned out because i wasn't sure if it would look good in ink and skin #i feel the same way about archiving the internet. i was looking for the written crochet pattern for something #and the person who wrote and created it passed away and their blog has been scrubbed #their blog only exists on the archives. their pattern is only accessible on youtube because somebody made a video tutorial with the pattern #it's an eerie feeling. they've been gone for two years but their blog has been tethered by the wayback machine

[tedloganshairclips]

digitalized a drawing i did in my spanish class bc i can't stop thinking about this movie

original drawing ⇩

#i dont know what wackass dialogue i wrote i just needed something to fill the space don't judge me #2001 a space odyssey #dave bowman #hal 9000 #halman #2010 the year we make contact

[aphrogeneias]

You stare at the payphone in front of you, wondering if it's a good idea to call him at this time.

It isn't late, but it is a Saturday night. He could be doing anything — could be with his friends, could be on a date of his own, which would make your heart drop if it wasn't already laying at your feet.

Rationally, you know those things are not true. Eddie didn't mention he was doing anything tonight, you'd be invited if he was. You also know that the closest he does from going on a date is flirting his way into a one night stand on the weekends.

Remembering that would also make your heart break, again, if it wasn't already broken and in pieces all around you, all over the sidewalk in front of The Hawk.

A movie date, it was what you'd been promised. The cute boy from your chemistry class you'd been eyeing all semester — distracting yourself from your attraction to Eddie, the ever unattainable one — had told you to meet him there. When he showed up, he had another girl on his arm.

His excuse was, "I talk to a lot of girls. Sorry, hun."

Of course he did. Of course you, in your desperate attempt to feel wanted, believed him.

Your hand is slightly shaking when you pick up the receiver, and dial the number you've memorized a long time ago. It doesn't take long for him to answer.

"Munson residence, this is Edward speaking."

You sniffle, snorting through the tears you didn't even notice falling. "Who the fuck is Edward?"

"Sweetheart? Is that you?"

"Yeah, um…", sighing, you steel yourself to no e forward with the real reason you were calling, "I need a favor, but it's okay if you're busy…"

"I'm not busy. Never busy for you." He remarks.

You take a moment to imagine him right now, standing next to the phone in his kitchen. Wearing a ratty band shirt from whatever concert he attended in the last couple of years, wearing those sweatpants he always wears at home, long hair in disarray. Cozy, warm, safe. All things you weren't feeling at that same moment.

"Can you come pick me up?" You ask, voice small. If you weren't talking so closely to the phone, he might not have heard you. "I'm at The Hawk and I walked here, don't wanna go home right now."

You hear shuffling on the other side of the phone, and the sound of keys rattling in the background. "Are you okay? Did something happen? What are you doing there alone?"

"I'll tell you when you're here. Please? I just don't wanna be alone right now." The sniffles come back, but this time because of the obvious affection in Eddie's voice. If you closed your eyes, you could almost see the crease in forehead, the pout on his full lips that made the lines around his mouth more prominent. You've always wanted to kiss them.

"I'll be there in fifteen. Ten, even! Don't move, okay?"

If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel one of his hugs, arms that loved to lift you off your feet, even though you protested each and every time. Arms that squeeze you tight, and refuse to let go until they have their fill. The boy you wished was the one taking you on dates and holding your hand in the dark of the movie theater.

"Okay."

You close your eyes, you feel it anyway.

"Hey, sweetheart." He calls, drawing your attention, "whatever it is, it's gonna be okay. I'll make it okay, yeah? I promise."

"I know."

You close your eyes, the line goes dead. You know.

#i wrote this in like twenty minutes #i don't know what it is #i just need some blorbo comfort #eddie munson x reader

[cerise-on-top]

Hugging, Kissing and Cuddling HCs for König

I'm trying to see him in another light again after everything I've seen about him, so I decided I'd write something fluffy and nice for him. And then came the realization I never wrote some HCs like these for him in my original posts, so I decided I'd change that! He's Austrian, so naturally I have to love him!

When it comes to hugging someone, König is a bit hesitant. Considering he’s not the most physically affectionate person out there, it’s almost an honor to be receiving an unprompted hug from him. Whether his hugs are long or short depends on the occasion: If he’s proud of you for accomplishing something, then the hug will be rather short lived. Though, he might pick you up and spin you around until you’re dizzy. If you’re sad and need some comfort then his hugs could last a while. He’s not the best with words, he prefers to listen to other people, but if he knows a hug is what usually helps you then he’s willing to do so. Despite being a big and strong lad his hugs are surprisingly gentle, he’s worried about crushing you. He could put his all into them, but then you’d likely end up with a few broken ribs and he doesn’t want that to happen. König is also surprisingly warm, so receiving a hug from him is a rare, but nice experience. Although he does go rigid at the beginning, not knowing what to do, but relaxes into the hug eventually.

Again, he’s not a very physically affectionate person, but isn’t opposed to the occasional peck on the cheek or on your lips either. There is some anxiety whether you’d actually want a kiss from him or not, so he doesn’t kiss you very often, even if you do reassure him that it’s quite alright. He’s a bit tense at first when he presses a kiss to your lips, but calms down eventually. It’s especially bad during the beginning of your relationship, but he’s since gotten better at being calm about it. Since there’s a good chance he’s taller than you he loves giving you a kiss on the forehead. It’s a small but sweet gesture. He doesn’t need to bend down entirely to reach you but he still gets to be affectionate with you. However, if you’re on the taller side, or just as tall as he is, then he’d love to receive kisses to his temple from you. It makes him smile every time you do it. If he’s in the mood for receiving a kiss then he’ll lay his head on your shoulder and nudge you a bit. Or try to get his head in your closer vicinity. Kind of like that one bunny video where the bunny stretches to receive some kisses.

Cuddles with him are a bit more common than hugs actually. However, he refuses to lay down on top of you. If you’re shorter and weaker than him then there’s no chance he’ll put his weight on you, he’s just that afraid of hurting you. If you’re taller or just more muscular, then he might, but he’s still a rather heavy lad. Most he’ll do is put his head on your shoulder while you’re cuddling in bed and are both lying down. Although it’d be a lie to say he doesn’t want to be held. König is alright with being the one to hold you, but sometimes he would prefer to be the little spoon as well. That urge gets especially bad if you’re roughly the same size as him. Sometimes just nuzzling into your chest does the trick for him as well, though. Loves it when you run your fingers through his hair as he does so. Another thing he adores is you sleeping on his chest as he holds you. He gets to hold you close, he gets to protect you and he gets to doze off a bit himself, it’s bliss to him. Sometimes he leans down to press a kiss to your head and accidentally wakes you up like that. He feels bad about it and apologizes profusely, but does chuckle a bit when he sees your disheveled hair and your tired expression that shows you just woke up.

#cod #cod x reader #konig #könig #konig x reader #könig x reader #he actually kind of scares me these days even if I don't want that to happen in the slightest so I'm trying to desensitize myself again #I know people always joke about fanon könig vs canon könig but I think I will write him a bit softer with his s/o again #just to combat all those awful things I've seen about him that I don't want to be true and that I also want to forget about #könig is a big lad so I knew from the beginning I wanted him to be good at hugging because this is self indulgent #I feel like if it weren't for his anxiety he'd be much much cuddlier #because that's the case with me even if I have other things going on as well #and what is a funny character you write about if not another piece of yourself? #I've put so much of myself into some of these characters and yet people keep requesting them so I must be doing something right #it's more fun that way as well when you put your characters through something you've gone through. more relatable too #but I think that's something pretty much every writer does. that's why some requests are so difficult to write #I got one about marrying Laswell and Nikolai and that was a difficult request for me because the last wedding I went to #was my parents' and that was almost 18 years ago. man time flies I was 4 years old back then #so naturally I don't remember much either. But I tried and that's what's important! #either way please enjoy this piece of fluff I wrote today!

[stardustedknuckles]

Okay but I need to know what the people who have only watched c3 think about Beau and Caleb because I've been rotating them in my head for three years too long to be objective anymore but like. Getting to see them through the eyes of a new party just reminded me that even though so much of our delight in C2 was focused around the constant indignity of the Nein, they are objectively a flickering metronome between "how the fuck are these people alive" and "this is the most hyper competent group of mercenaries I've ever seen" and I just. Do they know. Do they know that Beau is so fucking cool. Are there people who learned these two npcs have a whole campaign and want to learn more about them. I look at these two and see a montage of tiefling dicks and red eyes and promising to kill the other if something goes wrong. I see Caleb smearing mud and bat shit on Beau's face and Beau just resigned even as she makes the most aggrieved and annoyed sounds, Beau hauling Caleb's dissociated ass over her own skinny shoulder and walking him to safety. I look at them and see 500 hours and more of the empire siblings. The weeks and months they spent going from hating the parts of themselves they saw in each other to loving in the other what they still struggled with in themselves. I see chosen siblings, best friends. What do other people see?

#Do they know how much went into Beauregard Lionett asking 'you got my back?' knowing he did #How earned 'what's the play Beauregard' is #beauregard lionett #caleb widogast #CR spoilers #Critical role #CR c3 #Bells hells #Edited to add: don't use this as an excuse to bitch about C2 please #I've already removed and blocked one person #I get some frustration on the attention c1 characters have gotten but don't get mad at c2 fans for it #We've been starved and we're just excited #And this is just wondering your impressions of Beau and Caleb #'Beau is a dick' yeah you're right! She is and I love her so much I wrote 800 #Sorry eight hundred thousand words about her #Several thousand of them also about Caleb #So don't be a dick please #Whatever your thoughts these characters brought people out of some dark dark places #It's me I'm people