#midnight activation

[delta-piscium]

Steddie | 1.7k words it is (swedish) midsummer so I wrote this based on my favorite old tradition because I can and will make anything steddie, so like glad midsommar (happy midsummer)

“What are you doing?” Steve asks as he follows Eddie to the hallway where he’s frantically putting on his shoes. 

“I almost forgot,” he mutters under his breath not acknowledging Steve at all.

“Forgot what?” 

“I can’t believe I almost forgot.” 

“Eddie,” Steve says a little louder, more adamant.

He does look up at Steve then and almost looks surprised to see him. As if he’d forgotten he was there, as if they haven’t been hanging out for hours. 

“Oh,” he says. “Uhm,” he squints at Steve who waits for him to continue, to explain. He doesn’t.

“Yes?” Steve implores because he would really like an explanation. Eddie had just abruptly stood up halfway through telling Steve about some folklore he’s using in his new campaign, just cut himself off mid-sentence and walked off. Steve doesn’t think it’s especially weird or demanding of him to have questions. 

“Did you have other plans that you just now remembered?” Steve frowns, starting to feel unsure when Eddie still isn’t saying anything. It’s just past eleven at night and Steve doesn’t know what plans those would be but he had showed up unannounced earlier in the evening so it’s not impossible that Eddie had plans that Steve interrupted. 

“No, no, no,” Eddie assures him finally breaking his silence, “it’s- okay it’s a little silly but I read this thing researching and I want to try it.” 

And well, okay then.

Steve raises his eyebrows and waves his hand gesturing for Eddie to go on. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn a light pink and he resolutely looks somewhere above Steve’s shoulder instead of at him. 

“Midsummer, which is today, is supposed to be this magical night and there are all these traditions and old myths about it.” 

Eddie glances at Steve and he smiles. Tries to show he’s listening and wants to know whatever thing Eddie read about. 

“And well, okay so there’s this one tradition where you pick seven different kinds of flowers before you go to bed and then put them under your pillow and you’re supposed to dream about who you’re gonna spend your life with.” 

Steve blinks, wasn’t expecting that and doesn’t know what to say about it, so, he blinks again. 

“Maybe it’s dumb, but with all we’ve seen magic and folklore don’t seem so far-fetched and,” he shrugs, “I wanna try. And like, it’s close to midnight and I don’t know if that’s a rule but I don’t wanna risk messing it up.”

“It- huh,” Steve frowns slightly and looks at his shoes then back at Eddie. “Yeah alright, let’s do it. Can’t hurt right?” 

His voice is light, like it’s not a big deal and just a fun thing Eddie read about because that’s what it is, isn’t it? But something about it settles deep in Steve’s gut. Makes it feel important in a way he’s not sure he could explain if he tried. Maybe it’s just the fact that Eddie is getting so worked up about the possibility of dreaming about the person he’s gonna spend his life with when Steve maybe a little bit wishes it would be him, but like, only a little. 

Eddie looks at him with wide eyes like he didn’t expect Steve to want to join, like maybe he expected Steve to make fun of him for wanting to do it. But then something seems to switch in him and a slow smile spreads over his face and he gives Steve an exaggerated once over. 

“Looking to find your true love huh, Harrington?” 

“I thought you said it was the person you spend your life with, not the same as true love necessarily.” Steve quips back because technicalities are easier to argue over than answering that question, especially when Eddie is the one asking.

Eddie shrugs. “Different sources say different things, sometimes it’s true love sometimes it’s who you marry.” 

“Well, then I guess we’re both looking to find our true loves?” Steve hedges, drags Eddie down with him if they’re gonna go there. 

A soft look passes Eddie’s face before a responds, voice quieter. “Guess we are, yeah.” 

They pick their flowers in silence, something about the magic being broken if you speak. Walking around the edge of the woods behind Eddie’s trailer a couple of feet apart, every once in a while coming together or crossing paths. 

After, Steve stands in between Eddie’s trailer and his own car. Holding on to his bouquet of seven flowers unsure what to do. He could go home, he should go home, but he doesn’t want to. He did have some beers hours ago and if he was allowed to speak he’d use that as an excuse to not drive and ask Eddie to crash on his couch. Right now he can’t though so he sighs inwardly and turns to his car. 

He makes it about two steps before a hand reaches out and grips him around his free wrist stopping him. When he turns around Eddie is giving him a look that very clearly says ‘stop being stupid’ and jerks his head towards the trailer silently telling Steve to go with him. He doesn’t let go though and uses his grip on Steve to drag him along like he can’t be sure Steve will actually listen and follow. As if Steve would ever not follow Eddie. 

They quickly get ready for bed. And again when Steve walks toward the couch Eddie grabs him and shakes his head. He waves his arms around a bit like that’s supposed to explain anything but Steve isn’t too bothered about an explanation anyways and easily follows Eddie to his bedroom. 

They’ve shared a bed before but always when they’ve been drunk or high so this feels different. Steve is a little glad they can’t speak or he’s sure he’d blurt out something way too revealing about it all. 

He avoids looking at Eddie as he tucks his flowers in under his pillow, knows Eddie is doing the same next to him. Is aware of it only being an old myth from a region halfway across the world but there’s a weight to it. Something real and tangible. 

He expects it to take a while for him to fall asleep like it always does. For him to twist and turn and lay awake until the early morning. For once though, that doesn’t happen. With the weight of Eddie next to him and to the sounds of his soft breathing and small movements, Steve falls asleep.

And he dreams. He dreams of big brown eyes and bright laughter. Of wild hair and warm arms embracing him. He dreams of growing old next to someone and how every wrinkle on their face tells a story of their shared love. 

He wants to stay in the dream forever, desperately tries to hold onto it even as he floats into consciousness. He turns and groans, gets a mess of someone’s hair in his mouth and nose and that’s enough to startle him into full wakefulness. 

Eddie grumbles next to him, clearly also just waking up. Steve looks at him, with his wild hair and his big brown eyes that are slowly blinking open and of course. Of course, it was Eddie he dreamed about.

Their eyes meet and Eddie freezes. Eyes widening as he looks back at Steve. 

“Oh,” he says. 

And yeah, oh.

“Eddie?” Steve asks, unsure of how to bring it up, to ask about it. If he even should? 

He puts on a teasing smile, even though he feels like goo inside, but making it lighthearted is all he can think of because what if he’s taking this whole thing way too seriously? Jumping to conclusions? 

“Dream of anyone?” 

Eddie nods and looks away, “I did.” He says it simply, voice careful. 

And maybe it isn’t just Steve.

“Who?” He asks, dropping the teasing tone. 

Eddie swallows and looks back at Steve. “The person I wanted to dream of,” he says and it’s not really an answer but he’s looking at Steve so intently he thinks it still might be. 

He thinks about Eddie’s quiet but delighted surprise at Steve wanting to join him yesterday. About Eddie dragging him first into his trailer and then into his bed. How they’re so close on Steve’s side of the bed and Eddie must have drifted towards him in his sleep.

He bites his lip to stop his smile from spreading too wide, there’s still a chance he’s misinterpreting things, “yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And who would that be?” Steve asks, leaning in even closer until he feels Eddie’s small puffs of breath across his face. 

“You,” Eddie whispers but Steve hears it clearly. 

He takes a moment to bask in it, to let it wash over him before he responds.

“That’s good,” Steve tells him eventually and Eddie’s eyes are so wide and open, and so pretty, “because I dreamt of you.” 

He knows it’s cheesy so he doesn’t give Eddie time to respond, just leans in and closes the remaining gap between them. Slots their lips together. Eddie gasps into the kiss, grabs Steve by the hair, and pulls him in. Makes all these cute noises that make Steve want and want and want. 

He shifts, goes to put his leg in between Eddie’s to move on top of him and get a better angle. But he only gets halfway before Eddie grabs his hips and twists them around. Pushes Steve flat on his back and straddles him. 

He grins down at Steve. 

“You think the Scandinavian magic worked or was it just dream psychology and wishful thinking?” 

“Does it matter?” Steve asks, way too earnestly. But like, they’ve just spent this whole time doing some true love magic so he thinks it’s fine, “got what I wanted.” 

“It’s forever though,” Eddie points out, bending down to bite at Steve’s jaw, “if we believe the old Norse people.” 

Steve hears the question there, thinks this might be Eddie’s way of asking what this means to Steve. His way of telling Steve this isn’t just a hookup for him.

“God yeah,” Steve exhales, “I fucking hope so.” 

He feels Eddie smile into his neck and grabs his hair, uses it to pull him back and steer him into another kiss. 

[shower-phantom-ideas]

I would like the record to stand that I don’t think the waynes think Danny is some sort of hot twink guy. Just the cutiest lil dude ever.

I want them to see his hero persona (give that boy a mask) and fantasise over how cute or hot they think he will be.

They hear his voice. They see his actions. His strength. And assume hes gonna be babe material.

Later it happens. The reveal. And hes just some guy. Just a dude. I mean it’s gonna be shellshock for them. No one but Damian is shocked cause they all assumed his looks would be face and upper body model levels. Bruce probably was thinking the poor lil guy was covered in bruises and injuries but didn’t know about our kids healing factor.

I stan pristine danny who only gets scars from ghost hunting equipment. And that dissection.

Let them over look Fenton cause hes too normal. Let them not even consider him cause hes so scrawny. Too much like a human child.

[just-your-average-cryptid]

most of us have heard of the red car game. you’re on a road trip, you’re bored, you start looking for red cars to do something.

and then they’re everywhere. you notice them nearly every few minutes.

there aren’t suddenly more red cars now, of course. you were seeing them already, but you weren’t noticing. you weren’t looking.

I am noticing things.

there is a plant I notice everywhere now, a small bushy plant in suburbs, along streets, by shops on the highways. dwarf umbrella bush is what the internet tells me when I look for it’s name. I did this because I wanted to know why,

every time I ever saw it, every place,

it was always dying. always the leaves turning yellow, the branches small and scraggly. inside out - nitrogen deficiency. their soil drained.

I am noticing how many of these landscaping plants are yellowing, how small and sickly they look in just a few years. I am noticing how often the grass outside the house is replaced when it once again turns brown and dry, how the type never changes and the cycle starts again. I am noticing how the unmowed, unkempt spaces on lakesides and roadsides look more alive than this. how the preserve I grew up next to was miles of “messy” unmanicured nature and the ground was covered in leaves instead of grass and there was life.

I am noticing the birds that come by the lake. there was a flash of blue wings and red chest - eastern bluebird, male, relatively common. I had never seen one before. there is a family of ducks that appear every spring; i cannot say if it’s successive generations or different ducks, but I can always look forward to ducklings. there are little brown birds with white heads whose names I do not know - are they some kind of piper? why don’t I already know?

why is it so hard to learn about my native plants (accurately, that is)? why are so many gardening sites littered with people who think a plants value is based on how pretty or useful it is to them, who think a tree shedding leaves is “messy”?

why is knowing about the world we live in so… odd? why is it a hobby and not vital knowledge? I learned about polar equations. I taught myself about mycorrhizal networks and species of insects.

(did you know there are shiny green bees? a special species of wasp pollinating figs? that white flowers bloom at night for moths? do you know? have you looked?)

I cannot look at a lawn and see life anymore. it is a wasteland, devoid of life, dying slowly itself. everywhere is grass, grass, doused in water that runs over into storm drains, soaked in fertilizer and pesticides and a hundred other poisons and sending one clear message:

this is a place of death. life is not welcome here.

I do not think I could live in a city. too loud, yes, too busy, yes, too many people, yes, but the plants would bother me. a tree allotted only a convenient square, surrounded by dead stone and metal.

a forest cleared for this, for burning asphalt streets and racing cars and shops whose bathrooms are “for paying customers only”.

this is a place of death. life is not welcome here.

and now I am noticing.

[benoits-neckerchieves]

Me when I go to bed each night and am alone with my thoughts again

[shummthechumm]

"son, i could move the sky for you"

~

so...midnight and sol in the rewrite... (more info below the cut!)

☆

in the scorched ruins of a long abandoned ravine awaits an elderly badger. for seasons, midnight retraced the ancient claw-marks of those before this time; fading echoes of now forgotten spirits. every night she patrols the worn stone, accompanied only by the distant pelt of stars above her.

the low humming of wind bouncing off the gorge walls was scarcely broken--be it by a passing critter or occasional loner--but tonight, something was different.

she follows the shrill wailing--lumbering after it with more energy than she had showcased in moons--down the ragged cliff edge, and into the hollowed out stone. there lay a scrawny cat--a kitten. midnight's ears itch at it's mewling, and her throat tightens.

she reaches out a clawed paw, and pulls the shivering scrap towards herself. the kit whimpers still, but unscrews it's eyes. brilliant sunburnt irises burn into her own; and a warmth she had long been deprived melted the aches of age away--if only for a moment.

those pools of yellow observed her curiously. after a heartbeat, the child nuzzled deeper into her wiry coat.

how long had it been since held new life? how long had it been since was held by someone?

regardless of the answer, she couldnt let go now.

☆

i love sad old people

Original/Alt. Version here:

[100-yardstare]

I was watching that new King Candy video on YouTube by Randomalistic and it got me thinking a lot about Wreck-It Ralph again, specifically about some background lore of the universe and the entire concept of the code and what it means to be alive in the arcade.

In this scene specifically, we are literally shown that code equals what is going on in the game. In the entire movie, "the code" is referenced like a god. You follow the code, you will be okay. If not, well... that could mean the end to either yourself or your world.

It's interesting to note that by dying outside your game you don't regenerate, yet manipulating the code itself like King Candy did didn't "delete" Vanellope. She was just made a glitch, which seems like a reasonable consequence of trying to delete her code. Perhaps it could explain why she couldn't leave the game Sugar Rush itself because her code was unstable, so the world's natural instruction to preserve her and itself would be to not allow her to leave.

But going beyond rules of the world of Wreck-It Ralph for a second, this is a cool reference to basic programing, which is essentially designing data into a sequence that a computer can interpret and execute. While the characters in Wreck-It Ralph are very much programs, they are also meant to be alive, and so, as this smart guy named Podolsky once said, "[there is a] counterpart for every element of the physical world." I don't remember where I read this part, but there were scientists talking about subatomic theory and how everything existing or anything that has existed is in some sort of quantum blueprint, parallel and expressing you, me, and that dog pissing on your tree outside into existence.

I AM GETTING TO MY POINT NOW

So my theory is that while a character may die and be unable to regenerate if something happens to them while they are outside their game, this doesn't necessarily mean that their code still doesn't exist.

Vanellope's code was attempted to be destroyed by King Candy, but that plot was a failure. He couldn't even modify existing code, like possibly changing the color of the salmon room or redesign Vanellope's kart because that's just what the code dictates. It's there and its permanent.

King Candy being an invader to Sugar Rush makes him not part of the game, and thus even though he was able to create an insert Sugar Rush character for himself to inhabit or essentially a "skin" to wear if you wanna be creepy about it, at the end of the movie he is gone. Dead as a door nail. He has no original code to refer back to because Turbo Time was unplugged, so he doesn't even have a source code that even remembers him as an individual. It's like a second death.

[mxmorbidmidnight]

Being disabled doesn’t mean I owe abled people shit. It’s not my job to make you realise that disabled people are people, you should already fucking know that. I should not have to grapple and fight to be treated like a fucking person. It’s not my job to sit idle and take your shit. I shouldn’t have to act passive and mellow like a drugged animal so you feel comfortable being around me. I shouldn’t be forced to jump through hoops to be taken seriously. I’m not your inspiration porn, I’m not an example to be made out of, I’m not something for you and your useless mates to laugh at. Don’t you dare touch my fucking cane, don’t mimic my tics. Take cripple out of your vocabulary you intolerant fuck.

If you treat me like shit that’s what you’re going to get back.

[dimension-20-every-introduction]

Everyone Introduced in Dimension 20's Fantasy High: Junior Year episode 17

[hephaestn]

this scene sends me i can't help it

[je9ngguk]

A LOOK FOR THE HISTORY BOOKS. 

for ↪ @kookthief <3

[lilblueorchid]

Lavender Haze

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

[brandedgun]

Lizzy has some thoughts or something

[nilla-bear]

“omg it’s your 24th birthday today what are you gonna do??”

Me:

[decarbry]

dabi: *insults* yabureme: master has given yabureme a connection with a loving, living creature?

[starbuck]

went to my first house show EVER tonight and TWO people said i was cute

[talistheintrovert]

midnight museum crack 2/?

this is my show pitch to anyone who hasn't started watching this yet. is it working