My Submission For @stitchedspider's DTIYS On Twitter :3

My submission for @stitchedspider's DTIYS on twitter :3

What do you think of Amber from Invincible?

Unfortunately, because of the horrible writing decision that was made, I have no choice but to hate her. I see people supporting/defending her, but I mostly think that's just out of desperation and spite--and I get it. I liked Amber too, up until she revealed she knew about Mark's identity. I think the writers wanted that to be some sort of "strong" moment for her, but it really damaged her character. Up until that moment, we saw how selfless Amber was; working in soup kitchens, helping the homeless, aiding her community, etc., but all of that, for me, was tainted when she expected Mark to tell her his secret. It's unbelievably selfish. She should've understood that she's not the center of attention. Mark was told by his father, his mother, and Eve NOT to reveal his identity. If Amber really did know he was Invincible, she was being extremely manipulative and intentionally making his life more difficult, forcing him to choose between her and humanity as a whole. She made him stress out and feel guilty for no reason.

Not to mention her reaction doesn't make any logical sense. She cried. This emotion was real. She cried because Mark took off in the middle of a deadly situation, and because of that Amber felt abandoned. Why? She would've known he'd be back. She would've known protecting everyone on campus was more important than staying with her and pretending he couldn't help. Don't tell me that in this scene she was upset because Mark "hadn't told her the truth". Don't insult my intelligence like that, and don't let the writers insult your intelligence either. They made a mistake, plain and simple. She even yelled Mark's name and actively looked around for him after he disappeared. Why would she do that if she knew he was Invincible? It doesn't make sense.

In addition, Amber and Mark had only been dating for a few months. Excuse me, but that's at least a year long commitment I would need before trusting anyone with such an important and dangerous secret, especially since outing myself would also mean outing my family. Amber isn't entitled to that, and she kind of proved it with how toxic she ended up being. They are high school students and she is Mark's first girlfriend. It's completely unreasonable to expect him to spill such a life-changing, astronomical secret when they haven't even said "I love you" yet. The fact that he told her at all just emphasizes how important she is to him, but she didn't care.

Then, when I watched the season a second time, everything changed. I was able to really soak in just how terrible of a character Amber actually is. She's not a good person, she's a person who pretends to be good because she expects a reward. She blackmailed Mark's bully to get him to pursue her. That's not cute, it's conniving. When Mark was "hit by a bus" and hospitalized, she didn't ask him if he was feeling better or make sure he wasn't traumatised, she chastised him for missing their date at the soup kitchen. He showed up to her house covered in bruises, bent over in pain, groveling to her, yet she wasted no time tearing into him. Then, after they broke up, not even a day later she was ready to hook up with some random college student. Mark was lamenting their split while she was ready to pounce on another guy.

Sorry, Amber, but the writers made me hate you.

Lazy Screenshot redraw featuring the Dino Batch

One day I’ll delete this in shame but not today that’s for sure

Reblog if you remember this motherfucker:

The spiderverse men when they accidentally fall asleep on top of you (Drabbles)

Tag list: @alliwriteistrash

Rating: 18+, Angst, Hurt/comfort

Peter B Parker

For everything Mayday gives Peter in joy and love, she takes back tenfold in his sleep schedule. She’s a time sponge on top of that, changing her diapers and getting her to eat. Then suddenly three hours will have passed, Peter’s unconsciously shaken tiredness all together from his body. Half a cup of coffee surely helps, but the lower lids of his eyes pulling down to his cheeks. As black circles both of his eyes, and somehow he only notices when you point it out to him.

Although you don’t consider your relationship as serious. You don’t mind helping him out with Mayday by doing the shopping for him or watching her for a few hours. He appreciates it every time. And when silence envelops his home, you know it’s when Mayday is fast asleep in her red and black crib.

After a few moments of the quiet being born, you hear Peter gently crushing the rug of the hallway with his feet. Making sure to keep Mayday’s door open, he walked over one door down on the right. To where you laid on the right side of his bed. The newly born moonlight just started to cut through the room. The Spears of light pass by the glass of the window on the furthest wall from the mattress.

As the night lights unfeelingly pierce your skin, the mattress laid bare on top of the rugged floors. He hasn’t exactly had time to set up his own room. All that keeps you two warm is your bodies and your own blankets. A new blue silk one in contrast to his somewhat worn, crimson fluffy one. As said blue silk was pulled up just above your hips.

You spot Peter somewhat dozed off on the side of his door frame, you sit up by your elbow on his side of the bed. Only remembering to whisper halfway through your line of words, “Hey Peter, come on get some sleep-“

Right as you finished, before you could scoot over to your side of the mattress. Peter had wordlessly closed the distance between himself and the bed. Tumbling on his side to your side, planting himself like a human blanket on top of you. You almost try to get his attention, but his snoring tenderly rumbled against your chest.

His hair sweeps against your chin, his heart making a beautiful beat against your own. In a beautiful rhythm beside one another. You simply smile, planting a kiss on his scalp. Turning off the lamp light also propped on the rug beside your heads. Casting the room in further darkness.

“Good night Peter.” You pull yourself further down between Peter’s body and the cushion of the mattress. Spelling the nights end for you two.

Miguel O’Hara

You two haven’t been alone in weeks, and it felt like years. It showed in the desperate but small claw marks and bruises dotting his favorite parts of your body. Your bedroom itself held the past couple of hours like a ghost. No longer alive but certainly still there. Your bare bodies were covered by dry sweat. Dirtying the silk sheets further than they’ve already been by your previous activities.

After the soreness in down the middle of your hips dissipated enough for you to stand. You push the sheets off of you, as Miguel’s gorgeously sculpted back stared at you getting up. Presuming he was asleep you try to get up and shower. Only by pressing weight on your thighs did you feel a stiff ache under your skin.

Immediately you’re back off your legs, the bottoms of your feet abruptly pulled from his wooden floors “Ah- Miguel!” You cried out semi-defiantly.

His arms aggressively swaddled around you, burying you under himself on your side of the bed. The bridge of his nose rested against the left side of your neck. His very chest dominates yours as it sinks you further past the surface of the mattress. In vain you try to wiggle out from under him. But his the weight of his soft muscles pushes you against the sheets.

He immediately pretends to fall asleep, you grunted in his ear “Miguel get up! I should shower!” He groaned against your jawline “Five more minutes…” he forgot to end his sentence with something to convince you. But he figured the six foot, muscular Mexican Irishmen on top of you would be enough of an argument.

You can’t help but find his whines adorable, despite him not giving you a choice. You grumble inside your throat still attempting to push him off. But his persistence grows, funneling his bulky arms between your back and the bed. Tying himself around your visage further, like quicksand the more struggle made your fate harder to escape. A huff proceeding a fourth futile effort. Made you properly sink down into your shared bed, you felt his shit eating grin along the brim of your face.

Your pouting will always be loved by him, even as it’s against him. Giving in, the warm bubble of his body heat sets in around you. He’s the best weighted blanket you’ve ever had. How he strolls his fingers against a small patch of your skin, and bumps his toes against yours. Alongside the drumming of rain against the wall of glass lining the left side of the room. Giving way to a foggy and comfy view of Neuva York.

The gentle grey of fog sewed tightly against the skyscrapers of the city. The honking, bustle, and tussle of usual city life was muffled by the aggression of the storm. Things went on as usual, but with a tangible slowness now. Created by the rainfall, all the while building a song for itself when its raindrops pounded against your home. Catching a whiff of Miguel’s dark auburn locks upon taking in nature’s rhythm.

You know the depths of his Miguel’s walls in his mind, and everywhere else besides his home. Here he cries, laughs, smiles, holds you, and says what he feels. Anomalies as far as everyone else in his life is concerned. However for you, there’s nothing he wouldn’t overcome in the world and in himself to have you here. So you can’t help but relent.

“Fine. Five more minutes.” You surrendered, he hummed appreciatively.

Hobie Brown

It was after a big concert, the cheering and roaring of millions still permeated in your mind. There cries and shouting branding itself into your brain. You’ve never endured such an adrenaline spike before. Your hearts still cooling off after the high. You never knew someone could feel like this without drugs.

The back of hobies head was sandwiched in between the giant coils of his hair and your lap. His legs kicked up on the furthest couch arm with his shoes off. He was in his black pajama shorts with his shirt off. The aroma of his cologne swimming around your nose as he closed his head.

“Your first concert aye? How ya like it?” You took a deep breath, you definitely weren’t conflicted. It was amazing, almost as much as he was. But it was hard to put into words. “I can’t explain it, but it was great. I’d happily go to more.” He smiled in response.

By the slowness of his tone you could tell he was getting sleepy. The crowd surfing alone would knock the wind out of anyone. But with the performance he put on, by how hard he exercised his lungs to hit the notes. His voice will need a break in order to not have to scratch and claw out of his neck.

So you understand why he didn’t keep the conservation going. You both just pleasantly stayed in the domestic quiet of his apartment. His other bandmates were already past out in there rooms. Hobie was truly a different breed of man. He could preform for hours and hours on end, blasting apart his mind and body for the sake of his music alone. Sure the money was good, great even. But in how he acted and how he spoke that wasn’t what he truly wanted out of it. He wanted to be loud, to be heard, if Hobie would die doing anything. It’d be what he’s loves and whatever was right.

You reminisce over the concert as the fresh cover of night drapes itself over New York City. A greyish black painting the mural of the sky. As red, green, and blue traffic lights spontaneously cut through its hues and just as quickly disappearing. It was a gorgeous cradle for everyone around you, as you allowed Hobie to huddle as close to you as he wanted. You simply preoccupied yourself with a book. As the front and back of the book masked your face from his sight.

“Love?” You removed the book and looked down at him, his piercings making a tiny glimmer in your sight “Yeah?” You asked, he just smiled and confessed. “Just wanted to look at a beautiful person…” a tender heat rises up your cheeks right under your eyes. You playfully hit him on his side as he laughed “What? Can’t handle the truth?” 

You just smiled back rolling your eyes, as you tried to find where you left off on your story. After a couple of minutes, before your immersion in this novel sweeps you away from the scene. You hear Hobie’s gentle snoring, it was but a whisp of noise from his throat. You could hear a pen drop as it went on. However, you disrupted the flow of your eyes with the pages. To grab the blanket draped over the couch, subtly swimming it over his body, ensuring he’s warm in his slumber. And you as his pillow, would now have to stay still for the rest of the night. But you didn’t mind. This was great.

With your soft kiss now decorating his forehead, you whispered “Gnight.” to punctuate his delivery to the land of sleep

Spider-Man Noir

It was a fun night out, after inviting your darling out to drink with your friends. Alcohol now made a stench of his body, practicality having to drag him out of the car. Once your designated driver duties had concluded for the evening. The aroma of summer heats disappearance with the arrival of night made its way to you. The first thing you’ve smelt tonight that wasn’t alcohol or regrets. As your darling was a blubbering mess in your embrace on the walk to your front door.

“That was real berries babe!” Your darling barely managed to illicit from the bottom of his throat out from his lips. Still wet with giggle juice as you managed to unlock the front door.

Escorting him onto the living room couch, leaving his touch only to lock the door behind you. And to take off your heels at the side of the entry. You went back to him to kiss his forehead. With that sprawling smile still dressing his face since when he took his first sip of wine. You went to the kitchen to grab him some water, despite now smelling of a light night bar. You made sure not to have a sip, knowing how much a lightweight your man is.

“That Derrick should mind his own potatoes about you and me-“ he begun blabbering on about. Derrick offered, rather insistently, to be a third.

He laughed off the rejection, ultimately it was the booze talking. But your beloved didn’t take it as such, as the facet sprayed the fresh water into the glass you retrieved from the cabinets. He wouldn’t stop complaining about Derrick, pain stakingly insulting his appearance and lack of looks. You knew this was all just jealousy. Adorable drunken jealousy however.

You sat beside him on the couch handing him the water, by your offer he took the glass from your hand. Sipping at least three time. His thirst was parched, he pushed his head onto your shoulder. Continuing on,

“You didn’t consider it right?” He earnestly, almost whimpered out. You were shocked at his honesty. You knew he was jealous. But that he believed you would want another man as much as him, shocked you “Of course not…” he almost wanted to cry.

He knows he can’t have as much time for you as he wants. He’s not as suave or handsome as other men. He can’t get you those expensive presents. He’s not like Derrick at all. A cutting pit formed in his ribcage watching Derrick make moves on you. But a cold self hate also fumigated his lungs all the while. He knows that’s who you truly deserve. A respectable, well educated man with lot of money and security to offer you.

All he offers you is a one bedroom house in the bad part of town. With half as much time when not even counting his civilian job. And with just enough pennies to get by in the mean time. Derrick isn’t a bad guy, even as he overstepped tonight. And you know where your darlings thoughts are going.

“No other man could make me as happy as you darlin’…” he shoots puppy eyes at you from under his scruffy brown hair. “No one.” You repeat to him, now tasting his favorite beer from his lips onto yours “darlin’…” he breaths out guilt ridden, “I’m too tired, in the morning I’ll definitely make another try at being the father of your baby…”

You giggle sheepishly, as he goes back to resting his head on your shoulder. The curtains divide you two from the view of the starless night sky. Not a loss considering you’ve seen it a thousand times over. He just softly nods off into slumber. As you allowed your head to fall back onto the top of the old couch. He already started snoring.