#midnight diary

[i-swear-its-only-ironical]

It's funny.

You have a panic attack no one knows about. You smile, even laugh, fingers intertwined so no one sees you trembling. You hear their whistling beyond the door and really wish it wouldn't be like the water boiler all over again but it is, it kind of is.

But then you talk to someone, someone you invited because you cannot behave as you did in the past, you cannot, you cannot. You won't shun yourself because you think others expect that out of your existence. Expect your existence to go unnoticed in their eyes. You breath, and watch a movie, uncramp you trembling hands.

And you listen to that someone you invited, speak to them and whenever you look at the clock say "just 15 more minutes" and with every new extension of those 15 more minutes you realise how fucking badly you needed this experience. To feel human again? To feel again as if your existence isn't a menace. To feel joy for being alive. And she talks with you like your aunt and your girlfriend, like the one very ADHD-friend of yours. She talks like the comfort zone you currently don't have around you.

And you realise how long it has been since you felt a connection like this toward another human being. Because, while the experience far away from the shores you call home is wonderful and great and expanding, it is also so very draining. Everyday I meet someone new, none of them I know to a point of them becoming my comfort here. They're a blurry image I don't quite understand yet, a fluttery mirage of their actual self I have to be wary about. Wary as it is normal in front of acquaintances.

But I am craving talks until 3 in the morning and to be greeted with a smile and a hug, am craving the consistency of belonging. Craving to be myself without fear of being too much of it.

At half past two, she pushes the buttons on the elevator, hugs me as the doors open and goes back home. And I, for once, feel contempt instead of excitement.

I am at peace, I am happy, I am so very tired.

[sorrowfulnightsdiaries]

What is it like to meet someone and want to give all your best?

4.22

[youabandonedthem]

[girlkisser13]

labyrinth

"uh-oh, i'm falling in love" "oh no, i'm falling in love again" "oh, i'm falling in love"

pairings: klaus mikaelson x vampire fem!reader

warnings/tags: none. purely fluff.

summary: a certain original hybrid fancies you.

mystic falls was as serene as ever, the quiet streets lined with quaint houses and lush greenery. the town held a charm that masked the supernatural undercurrent simmering beneath its surface. klaus found himself drawn to this place once again, a mix of nostalgia and unfinished business pulling him back. he hadn’t planned on staying long— until he met you.

at the mystic grill, the familiar clinking of glasses and murmurs of conversation filled the air. klaus settled into a corner booth, his gaze sweeping over the patrons until it landed on you.

you were sitting alone at the bar, your hair framing your face, your expression distant. there was a sadness about you that intrigued him, a pain he recognized all too well.

you felt his gaze on you before you saw him. you turned, and your eyes locked. for a moment, the world fell away. klaus mikaelson, the infamous hybrid, was looking at you with an intensity that made your heart clench. you turned back to your drink, willing yourself to remain unaffected.

klaus approached you with a confident stride, taking the seat next to you. "i couldn't help but notice you from across the room," he said, his voice a smooth blend of charm and danger.

you arched an eyebrow, your guard up. "and now you've come to make your move?" you asked, your tone icy.

klaus chuckled softly. "i assure you, love, my intentions are not what you think. i merely wanted to introduce myself. my name is klaus."

"i know who you are," you replied. "and i'm not interested."

"fair enough," he said, unperturbed. "but perhaps you'd allow me to buy you another drink?"

you hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "one drink," you agreed. "and then you leave me alone."

as the evening wore on, klaus found himself more and more intrigued by you. you were a mystery wrapped in pain, and he was determined to uncover your secrets.

you found yourself reluctantly drawn to klaus. there was a sincerity in his eyes that you hadn't expected, a depth that spoke of centuries of experiences.

days turned into weeks, and klaus' persistence never wavered. he showed up at the mystic grill every evening, always with a new story about his siblings or a small gesture that chipped away at your defenses. he took you on walks through the town, shared the secrets of his past, and listened when you spoke of your own heartbreak.

you had been hurt before, abandoned by a lover who had promised you eternity but left when the weight of forever became too much. you had sworn never to open your heart again, but klaus was different. he saw you for who you were, broken pieces and all, and he didn't flinch.

one evening, as the two of you walked through the deserted streets of mystic falls, klaus turned to you. "y/n, i know that you are afraid. but i am not him. i'm not going anywhere."

you stopped, looking at him with tears shimmering in your eyes. "how can i believe you, klaus? how do i know you won't leave?"

he took your hands in his, his grip firm and reassuring. "because i've lived a thousand years searching for something real. and now that i've found you, i'm not letting go. i promise you, y/n, my intentions are pure. i will spend the rest of eternity proving it to you if i must."

your heart ached at the weight of his words. you wanted to believe him, more than anything. "you're saying you fancy me?" you asked in a teasing manner, your tone hiding the vulnerability in your heart.

klaus's eyes softened. "more than fancy, love. i care for you deeply. and i think, despite everything, you feel the same."

you hesitated, your walls wavering. "i do," you admitted, your voice trembling. "but i'm scared."

klaus leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tender kiss. "we'll face that fear together," he vowed. "you have my word."

in that moment, you let yourself believe. for the first time in a long time, you felt hope. and as you both stood together under the moonlit sky of mystic falls, you knew that maybe, just maybe, you had found your forever in klaus mikaelson.

[biohazzrds]

Midnight mass is unrealistic because if I had Father Paul preaching infront of me I would be giggling like a school girl in the pews…and growling.

[caffeinatedcatlover]

Isn’t the chocolate bunny super cute? I had one as a reward for writing two essays last week. Also somehow managed to read Crown of Midnight and Heir of Fire.

[quillkiller]

microfic: sirius & family trauma, 950 words

cw: death and implied abuse

idk what came over me. i wrote this mostly to project onto sirius and i dont even know if it’s supposed to be set in canon or in a modern au. enjoy i guess !

Sirius’ father dies on a regular tuesday. He hasn’t heard from him in several months before that, but his brother had called him from the hospital.

So here he was, sitting in an impersonal waiting room, his brother half asleep on his shoulder, staring at an ugly painting on the wall in front of him. It was a little crooked, Sirius thought. It was driving him a bit mad, and he wanted to correct it, but he didn’t want to wake Regulus.

Their mother was in the hospital room with their father— with her husband. The thought made Sirius feel strange, almost sick. Sirius’ mother was his devil, and she had always been the very picture of evil to him. It was easier to cope that way, thinking there was no good in the woman that had spat him out into the world against his will. It had shaken him to the very core of his bones to learn that his mother had refused to let Orion be alone when he died.

His mother had been at her husband's side for ten hours now, sitting by his bed, waiting for him to stop breathing. Every once in a while she came to speak to Regulus, sometimes glancing at Sirius. She had even touched Sirius’ shoulder and given him a gentle squeeze. Something he did not think her capable of.

Sirius’ father dies on a regular tuesday, which feels comically underwhelming and anti-climactic, all things considered. He had been such a large presence that even his absence had felt suffocating. He had been something Sirius couldn’t get rid of even even if tried. Always looming like a shadow in every corner of Sirius’ life.

Sirius had wished him dead more times than he could count, and now that he was he realised how unnerving it was. It was a lot more fun having a complicated relationship with your father when he was alive for it. It felt a little too final, a little too scary, now that he was a corpse a few doors down the hall and not someone Sirius could pick a fight with just for kicks.

Regulus had mostly been quiet, not really saying much. It had all been a little too surreal, too big for both of them. His brother had cried and made himself small against Sirius like when they were kids, getting snot and tears on Sirius shirt. Sirius had teased him for it, Christ, Regulus, you’re such a baby, and Regulus had laughed into his shoulder. Sirius had laughed too– until it escalated, and then they were both laughing. Sirius didn’t know why they were laughing, or why it was so funny, only that it was.

It went on like that the entire night, until morning, until their father had taken his last breath and his heart stopped. They were laughing hysterically about nothing in particular, and a moment later they were both so quiet it felt like the world around them had melted away or narrowed down to nothing but these four walls. Nurses came and went, offered them drinks or snacks, and two of them sat down and gave them a talk about grief. They were both biting their tongues trying not to burst out laughing again when one of the nurses said: At least you have all these wonderful memories with him.

It’s difficult being an older brother to someone whose father has died. Almost to the point where you forget that your father died, too. It’s hard watching Regulus mourn him and know he’s going to carry this with him for the rest of his life. Sirius would take the burden from him if he could. He’d do anything if it meant his little brother didn’t have to go through this, not even having a choice. It feels desperately unfair and cruel that Sirius can’t protect him from this.

Sirius had left home, almost cutting all his ties to his family. Regulus was the only reason he never managed to cut them all. He’d tried to get Regulus to come with him— to move on with him. Had told him that blood isn’t what makes a family, and Regulus had said No? What about you and me?

So he hadn’t cut all his ties with his family— continued to stick it out for his little brother who refused to let go. He suffered through the occasional family dinner or social function, but at least he had his own apartment to go back home to.

He knew Regulus would mourn differently than Sirius would. Knew that Regulus thought that their father had done unspeakable things to them, but maybe he’ll make a good grandfather one day when I have children. Sirius didn’t think so, but he never said.

Not like it mattered anymore, anyway.

Sirius had always been more like Orion than Regulus. Both his mother and his brother had told him so more than once. Sirius despised the very idea, the very thought that he would one day grow into becoming his father. Had fought violently to refuse his legacy. Had fought harder to stop his father looking back at him through the mirror.

Strange, now, how he’d never see his father again if he wasn’t looking in the mirror. Regulus had mostly taken after their mother.

Sirius’ father dies on a regular tuesday. The view from the tenth floor is beautiful, the sun just starting to come up, another day coming alive. The painting is still askew, and still will be when they leave this room.

How strange that a day, a night, like this can end. That this room will be the same, only empty of two brothers holding onto each other the best they can waiting for their father to die.

Sirius’ father dies on a regular tuesday.

[midnightdemonhunter]

The many fallacies of shoulder morality

[autumnsunshine10]

Dear diary

How do I love myself again

When I'm not sure I ever really did

Maybe a time I claimed what was mine

Dropped denial and steeled my spine

When someone I loved wasn't put first

And I still carried out self-care

I cried and supplied needed comfort

I didn't get enough of growing up

And instead of dismissing what I felt

I acknowledged its validity then moved on

Before I let anyone else dictate my worth

Winter too far to freezingly squeeze

All vitality and assurance from my heart

I didn't need an excuse to love

Just the beat of my heart was enough

Every reason was reasonable

Back before I dissolved under the weight

Of expectations--taking credit for wrongs

That were never mine to right

How do I love myself again?

Tear out this page and start afresh

Forging forward on a blank new one

Writing to please me first and foremost

While sharing with those I care

Only that which I can actually spare

Prompts: rip the page out; all gone; excuse the reason

[i-swear-its-only-ironical]

Have you seen the moon tonight

Have you seen the moon tonight?

Is it reminding you of the words I said that ticked you off the same way it reminds me of the lingering hurt you made me feel, the open wound you didn't cause, only made me aware of again.

Have you heard the rain plattering on this metal roof below us, are you even outside tonight?

I see you have a potted plant on your windowsill, a potted plant and a command is the only thing I know of you. I don't know you, I wonder how I could've hurt you so severely if I never saw the you behind the potted plant and the Ramen for breakfast. I wonder why everyone seems so much more interesting the moment they start hating you. I wonder why. I wonder why. Have you seen the moon tonight? It's hidden behind the rainy clouds, it's dim and quiet today, not as brightly shining as usual. I cried last week, you know. It felt like you needed space and accidentally hit my not-quite-healed-yet wound during the process.

On friday I had a panic attack, very silently dimming my light and regulating my breathing. It's not nice, you know. As if I couldn't exist anywhere, not inside not outside, neither with nor without people around me. You wouldn't notice of course, you wouldn't notice because panic attacks can be hidden if you really badly need to.

Well who knows, maybe you do. I only know you want me quiet and don't like those crackers from the Supermarket you offered others at the movie night. I wish I could see who you were, how you came to be. I wish I could see you for once, to know who hates me.

I haven't seen the moon tonight, the rain is getting stronger. I haven't seen the moon tonight, and I don't think I ever will. And maybe I can live with that. You are doing what seems good for your health and I won't try to look for a moon where I may only find clouds and rain and the hurting dark night.

[fategoflatass]

Dating!Jinmao where Jinshi gets very insisting on Maomao to use pet names with him. Of course, she refuses multiple times due to the embarrassment it provoked her, the sheer thought making her shiver.

He never ceases on his petitions though, so she ends up giving in. But under one condition—only after he'd finished every single one of his daily bureaucratic endeavors. He agrees,

It takes days of trial and error, until it happens—just like an unexpected rain during dry season, that day's workload had been significantly smaller compared to the others. And with the power of simpism enthusiasm, he'd managed to finish it all in one seating.

Jinshi let out a satisfied sigh as the set the last document aside, his work for the day finished. He tried repressing himself, although there were some stray maiden-in-love-like giggles here and there. Basen, once again, considers early retirement.

He abandons his office to and makes a beeline towards his beloved's workplace. (Un)Fortunately, he finds Maomao by herself. His smile gets even bigger as he stands there in silence, awaiting for his much deserved treat of the day. Her expression denoted anguish and later defeat, knowing she only had herself to blame for this.

She let's out a sigh, leaving her matter aside and getting face to face with her now partner. The girl makes a manner with her hand, indicating him to lower his head to which he does. She then pets his head and says "Well done, slug".

His eyes open wide in surprise. She starts thinking to herself that she might've messed things up, until she saw him getting flustered. Yes, she had definitely messed up.

They (she) never did that again.

[screentime-princess]

"(s)he was sunshine, I was midnight rain" ships

tvdu edition

[whatevenisfictionatthispoint]

Siffrin my brother ny brother in sparkly jeans you are a clone you smell like witch craft because you were born in a comically large cauldron

[june-violet]

January 2024 was a busy month for the Late Night Host Club!

There was a welcome for a new member, Trevor Noah made history, and the Strike Force Three were spotted hanging out together on that same historic night!

I wanted to give this one a scrapbook kind of look, of photos of moments put together. Hopefully it worked out! Should I draw more of these? 💜

[helloidkwhatimdoing-0]

This is fanart for Chapter 4 of If I Can’t Have Your Heart (I’ll Claim Your Wrist Instead) by @snikrzdoodlz on ao3! The bit that inspired this piece will be under the cut! Also I have an instagram now, it’s very scary!! I had more to say about it but the first time I made this post it deleted itself so never mind I guess

also, have the carpet pattern for funsies:

fun fact, I drew 90% of this months ago (when the chapter first came out) and then got so stressed with school that I didn’t finish it until today oops