#“Based on your likes” what fucking likes led you to recommend THIS??? What did I like that made the algorithm go:

[caterpillarinacave]

you’ll really see some of the most insane, alarming, out of this world thing on tumblr and your just supposed like. move on with life.

[t4rner]

this is hardcore ✧ mark x fem. reader

★ mature content. unprotected p in v, fingering, you’re getting eaten out, don’t know how else i can put it. office sex. age gap but never mentioned. you’re a secretary. i recommend listening to ‘this is hardcore’ by pulp while reading. this is NOT proof read

i’m never writing a smut ever again.

alex ‘mark’ turner x fem. reader

She has been working at the Tranquility Base Hotel (and Casino) for nearly two years now. Her job wasn’t exactly thrilling, bringing coffee to your boss every morning was not exactly phenomenal, but how could she complain?

As well as waking up earlier than she should, just to buy him a coffee, she also recorded everything in every meeting, in her little black notebook, what things were said, and if they were important, she’d highlight them, or she’ll end up drawing a little star beside it if she had lost her highlighter. again. Though, her boss would’ve just bought her more, and if she refused, she’ll never hear the end of it. She’d end up in the filing room for hours if he asked, if he needed numbers on something specific, or just needed another double-check on something, she’d do it.

The job took up her life, but sometimes she didn’t mind. Even when he’d ask her to stay after work, she never refused. He was a different man when it was just the two alone.

Mark was a strict man, ethical, and straight-forward. He didn’t give a fuck if he behaved like a complete asshole. If you were shit at your job, you’re fired, end of story. She’d overhear the other workers bad-mouth him, calling him a tyrant, but she said nothing, because she knew how he truly was—how he was when he was around her. If he thought she stayed too long after work, he’d send her home in a cab that was on his tab. He refused to let her pay for anything. He was a good man, but his ego was too big to ever let it show around anyone that wasn’t her. He thought he’d look weak, and he definitely did not want the people that worked below him to think he was.

He usually works long hours, even when the office emptied, he’d still be rooted to the chair by the next morning; when he did get up, he’d usually leave the office for an hour or two, to check on the hotel.

It was Friday night when she was still in the office during after hours, sitting on his floor, correcting every mistake she could possibly find. He sat by his desk, his legs spread as his fingers twirled his pen, staring at the bright screen of his computer.

She eventually looked up at him, and she clears her throat, which makes him turn his head almost immediately. They had slept together nearly a week ago. He invited her over to his apartment, and one thing led to another, and now things were tense, and she didn’t like that.

“Do you have a problem with me?” She questions, her lips curving into a small frown. He tilts his head to the side, before placing the pen down onto his desk. When he doesn’t speak, she continues. “You barely uttered a word to me the past week.”

He sighs, before he rubs his face, and he stands up, which makes her instinctively stand up as well. “Just had a rough week, darlin’. It’s not you.” He hums as he gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist, twirling her slightly before pushing her against the edge of his desk, “I could never have a problem with you.” He murmurs, his fingers brushing back strand a of hair behind her ear. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, and she sighs. “Mark—“

“Shh, shh..” He sighs, before he leans in, pressing his lips against her jaw, “Do you know how hard it’s been, not being able to touch you like this?” He utters against her skin, his breath hot as he trails down to the first button of her blouse. “I can’t think of anything else but you.”

His fingers trailed up to her blouse, unbuttoning the white shirt achingly slow. She lets out a hitched breath, her eyes fluttering at the feel of his lips on her skin. “Tell me to stop.” He mutters as he eventually unbuttons her blouse, sliding it off her shoulders, which makes her shudder.

She wanted to, but at the same time, she couldn’t. She felt the same way. When she didn’t speak a word, he presses his lips against her collarbone, til it traced down her sternum. “You’re so gorgeous.” He breathes out. Her fingers gripped the desk tightly, and she gulps. His hand moved up to palm her bra, and his lips moved to the top of her breast, kissing and mouthing her sweet skin.

“I want to make you feel good.” He whispers, “Can I?” He looks up at her, and she quickly nods, and it didn’t take him even a second until he was on his knees. His fingers meticulously unzip the sides of her pencil skirt, letting it fall to the floor. He presses soft kisses against her hip, his finger hooking into the waistband of her black, lace panties, pulling it down slightly as he continued to kiss down her leg, and her fingers move into his hair, her grip tight.

His fingers fidget with her panties, and a whimper escapes her, and he smiles, looking up at her. “Never sought you to be such a needy little girl, sweetheart.” He hums, before he eventually slides them down, “Come on, be a good girl and sit down on the chair.” He nods, before he eventually stands up, watching her as she carefully moved to sit down, and he smiles. “Atta’ girl..” He whispers, before kneeling back down, noticing how wet she was, already dripping onto the leather seat. “I haven’t even touched you yet.” He chuckles, his hands moving up to her thighs, pulling them up until they were resting on her shoulders.

His hands find their way to the sides of her stomach, and his head dips down without warning, his nose grazing against her swollen clit, and her thighs squeeze around his head, rolling her head back. “I got you, baby.” He murmurs, before he presses her mouth against her pulsing folds, and she lets out a moan, her grip tightening in his hair. He sucks her labia, his fingers moving to cup her breast underneath her bra, as his tongue twirls around it. His tongue works side to side, before it delves between her folds, and her moans grow louder, her body writhing underneath his mouth. Everytime her thighs clench around his head, her fingers tightening in his hair, or the moan of his name, it strives him to continue.

“Mark, I’m going to cum..” She gasps out.

He continues his semi-aggressive movements, until he pulls away, switching to his fingers as one digit delves between her folds, and she cries out, his thumb moving in circular motions around her clit, and that warm feeling starts to pool in her stomach, and she knew she was getting close.

His finger pumps deep inside of her, curling into that sweet spot of hers, and suddenly she was a goner. She lets out a soft cry as her body shakes as she cums, and his finger slows its thrusts, guiding her through her orgasm, before he eventually pulls out. He licks his fingers clean, before leaning over her as he presses his lips against hers, swallowing her small whimpers. “You want more, don’t you?” He whispers, and she whimpers in response, nodding, before he deepens the kiss, his fingers moving to unbuckle his belt, slipping it off and letting it fall to the floor, already forgotten as he unzips his pants, pulling his pants down. His aching cock was soaking with pre-cum, already staining his boxers, and he pulls her up, guiding her towards the desk, pushing her down until her stomach pressed against his cold desk. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, “Especially like this.” He hums, before he slips off his boxers, his girthy, veiny, hardened length springing out. He pumps his dick, letting the pre-cum leak out, and he gently presses the tip against her pulsing hole, “I’ll take it easy on you..” He murmurs, and she can only shake her head, “Mark, please..”

He couldn’t even keep in his lust and desire as he plunges deep inside her, his fingers holding onto her hips, his words long forgotten. He pulls out, teasing her with his tip, before he sinks in again, his thrusts were slow, but eventually sped up. Her moans grew louder as relentlessly assaulted her insides, he could feel her clenching around him and he groans, his thrusts growing deeper. He could feel her molding around him, as if she was made for him, and him only. “Look at you, baby..” He groans, “So tight.. made for me, aren’t you..?” He murmurs, until his fingers moved towards her clit, rubbing circles with her thumb, and her eyes water, the overwhelming sensation hitting her all at once, and she could feel herself chasing her second orgasm. “You’re.. taking.. me.. so.. well..” He pants. “Going to fill you up, sweetheart..”

“If you’ll let me..” And she moans in response, “Yes!” She cried out eagerly.

He eventually hits that sweet spot of hers as he shifts his body, and soon enough, she was coming apart, yet he continued his deep thrusts, bruising her insides as he soon eventually came after her, groaning as he fills her up; her thrusts going sluggish as he continued, trying to keep all of it to stay in.

The room is eventually silent, except for their heavy pants, and he eventually pulls out, his length softening.

“Are you okay?” He breathes out as he cups her cheek, making her look at him, and she nods, “I’m okay.” She smiles tiredly, and his lips curve into a small smile in return.

“I’ll take you home this time.”

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Match my Freak - Gaz x Reader

3.5k

Content Warnings - BDSM Dom and Sub relationship, impact play, breath play, a collar and leash are used, oral (m receiving), degradation, praise, PiV, multiple positions, spit, anal fingering, masochism and sadism

Summary - You finally take the plunge and download an app at the recommendation of a friend. On it you meet Kyle.

You stare at the text on your phone, a simple ‘here’ from Kyle. Your mind goes over the moments that led you to this moment. Talking to your friend about the fact you fantasize about that time you were fucked like a rag doll often, that you would love to relive that moment again. Of course, god bless your friend, they recommend you an app. “Plenty of freaks in the sea.” They said between sips of their drink. You’re not ashamed to admit that you had downloaded that app the moment they had mentioned it. As usual in apps like this, there are the ones who are clearly not there to seriously find what the app was created for. You met a few long distance guys and now your gallery has a nice wall of nudes and videos to send at least but it wasn’t what you wanted. You needed something to quell the ache between your legs, to rip you from your mind which ran a million miles in a minute. You still curse yourself for not taking your toys with you when moved but that’s beside the point now.

Then you found ‘Gaz’. That was the name on his profile, admittedly it made you kind of snort but you had already wasted some of your time, what's a few more minutes of hazing another guy? Even better was the fact that he was close. So yeah, you took the chance and by god are you happy that you did. After looking over his bio, which you did religiously with every guy you came across on this app, you sent him a message based off his bio. It had mentioned that you know where you belong, on your knees at his feet. So the next step was obvious. ‘I would love to be kneeling at your feet.’ You had thought to yourself after looking at his pictures that he had to be catfishing. Because there was no way someone as pretty as him was on this app, he probably got approached so often he had a million numbers filling up his phone. So you set your phone to the side and went to sleep, thinking that you’d probably not hear back from him.

So needless to say that you were NOT expecting to have first arranged a coffee meet up (vibe check). Even more needless to say that you were expecting his pictures to be exaggerated if not completely faked. But no. He is even more pretty than his pictures and the two of you talked until the coffee shop closed. Mostly about your interests outside of wanting to be dicked down or in his case, to be dicking someone down. Turns out he has three cats, loves to make music in his spare time and more importantly, once in his car, explained that he is experienced in this kind of community. Something that relieved some of your anxiety, you gave him your phone number and he dropped you back off at your place. You set a date and time for the first session after establishing basic boundaries. Do’s and don’ts for this session.

Now he was here to pick you up. Your heart couldn’t help but pound against your chest as you slipped on your shoes and walked out the door. The car ride was anxiety filling, at least for you. Your hands tremble a little so you keep them on your phone to hide that and he plays his favorite music. You keep reminding yourself that he knows what he’s doing, that he knows that you’re new to this kind of thing. You’re not completely inexperienced in BDSM but the things you’ve tried haven’t gone too far. But you want to go far, you want to know more about this and about yourself. Kyle seems to be the perfect introduction into the more… masochistic… side of yourself.

He brings you inside of his house, passing by his three cats who meow happily at their cat dad’s return and sniff at your legs before he leads you into his room. He had mentioned that he prefers a clean and organized space. As you take off your shoes and place them out of the way, you look around and realize you underestimated how clean and organized he liked it. He had wipe boards on the walls of his bedroom, each with lists of things he needs to do or get. Each one gives you a further glimpse into his personality. You’re seriously doubting he does music as a hobby because he seems rather serious about it. You glance at him as he mutters something to himself, “I might’ve pulled it out already.” He wanders over to the bedside table and opens the top drawer. You get only a glimpse in there, you spot what you think is a vibrator of some kind, some lube (thank god) and finally a collar and leash. That is what he pulls out. Your stomach does a flip as you force yourself to look away from it.

Right, you had mentioned wanting to try having a collar on and a leash. You can feel your cheeks warming up and if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. Instead he stands in front of you, lifting your head with two fingers under your chin. “I’m gonna freshen up and when I’m done, I expect you to be out of these.” He touches your outfit like it personally insulted him. You nod, unable to form words and watch him go into his bathroom. You don’t wait, you don’t know how long it’ll take, you strip yourself down to your underwear. For a moment you hesitate. Does he want this off as well? You decide he likely does and even if he doesn’t, he’s already seen your cunt in the pictures he requested. You place the clothes in the corner, unsure where you should put them, then sit back down. Thankfully for your poor beating heart he finishes up not that much longer after. He comes out of the bathroom and looks at you appreciatively. He grabs the collar and leash combo, looks to you for confirmation and you nod, words still unable to form in your mouth.

He puts the collar around your throat, he tightens it and checks the space between the leather collar and your skin. Seemingly satisfied, he wraps the leash in his fist, “Kneel.” You’re quick to comply, quickly getting off the bed and kneeling on the carpeted floor. Kyle forces your head up and mouth open, it strikes you then that he’s inspecting you. His thumb swipes across your bottom lip and presses onto your tongue. “Up, lay on the bed facing me and spread your legs.” Again you comply, you’re thankful he doesn’t comment on the fact you’re trembling. You can’t help it, you’re excited like some kind of small dog. Eager for this to be happening. You force yourself to look at the ceiling as your face heats further as he spreads the folds of your cunt and presses his finger in slightly and pushes a gasp from your lips. He gives it a light slap, your hips jerk involuntarily and your eyes immediately shoot to him. You don’t need to know him down to the depths of his soul to know that slightly smug look on his face, his lips quirked up and a glint in his eyes. 

“On your stomach.” You flip over and he spreads your ass cheeks, you bite your lip as he inspects that hole. His hands run over the fat of your ass appreciatively, he grabs a handful and releases it to watch it jiggle. “When I do this,” He speaks suddenly and you snap back from that slightly cloudy space he had already started to push you into, “I am inspecting your holes. Face me.” You turn around and look at him, meeting his dark brown eyes and then your eyes dart to his hand as it grips something you hadn’t noticed earlier. A riding crop, your mouth waters as the phantom sting of pain dances across your skin at the idea of that leather hitting your skin. “Kneel.” As you sit on your knees and look up at him, the leash wrapped around his fist and the crop in the other he asks you, “How much do you like pain?” You hesitate for a second and he adds, “On a scale of one to ten.”

“A six?” You say but it feels like your own question. Honestly, you only know that you like pain. You like the bite of it, the lingering sting that comes with a slap or hit. You adore how hot your skin gets after contact.

“Then I’ll take it easy on you.” You don’t amend your previous answer even though a part of you is telling you to. Learn where the line starts first before trying to find the end of it you tell yourself. The strike from the crop doesn’t quite sting even though it lands on its target, your breast. He corrects this with the second strike to the other one and you let out a gasp. Kyle takes this information and uses it for the next three strikes, each one leaving behind that familiar sting that sinks you back into that cloudy headspace. He tugs on the leash, you’re only half aware when your eyes find his hard cock. At some point while you were floating in that fuzzy space he had rolled on a condom and you don’t need to hear his words to know what you need to do next. Your mouth opens on instinct and his cock slides into your mouth. It's a beautiful thing, his cock. You normally don’t think like that, usually cocks are weird things. With their mushroom heads and the way they just look. But Kyle’s? God it's beautiful and some part of you wants to thank him for the chance to have it in your mouth even if there is a protective layer of rubber.

You feel bad for not having enough salvia and make a mental note to drink more fucking water. You do your best to work with what you have, you swipe your tongue on the underside of his cock and while you don’t hear him, you feel him pull on the collar to push his cock further down your throat. You force your throat to relax, you’re not going to gag as violently as you normally do. You nearly protest when he pulls his cock from your mouth but he cuts it off swiftly when he tells you to get on bed, face towards the ceiling. Your eyes fix directly on him as he grabs your legs and pulls you to the edge of the bed, he glances up at you from under his lashes, his hand still wrapped around the leash connected to the collar around your throat as he slides his cock between your folds. The head of it grazes your clit and you feel an electric shock go through you, his lips quirk up again and he releases your leash. Kyle reaches over to the bottle of lube and pops open the cap before lathering a generous amount on his cock before he lines himself up. The initial push is difficult and you try your best to relax as his thick cock pushes itself into you. Forcing the tightness that’s come about from simply not being laid in a while to mold to his dick’s shape, your lips part as he bottoms out.

Your head falls back and you blink up at the ceiling, swallowing hard against the collar wrapped around your throat. “Look at me.” Your eyes snap back to him, his free hand is around your thigh and the other still holds that riding crop. His hand makes contact with your cheek, the sting is immediate, your skin heats from the force of it and your cunt clenches around him. He does it again three more times, twice to the same spot and once to the other cheek as that haze settles over you. Finally he moves, pulling his hips back before snapping them back to yours. It pulls a moan from you and he strikes your tit with the riding crop at that exact level he had established earlier making your eyes flutter.

The pace Kyle sets is brutal. Each snap of his hips, each thrust has your hands gripping the blanket beneath you. It has you moaning despite your attempts to keep quiet, you think he might have a thing against you trying to be quiet. He uses the crop a few more times; once hitting directly onto your hardened nipple which pulls a shriek from you at the same time his cock hits that space inside of you that makes your back arch off the bed. “You like this don’t you?” You nod and choke out a ‘yes’ to which he growls, “It's sir to you.”

“Yes sir.” You moan, his well groomed patch of hair just barely grazing your clit. 

Just enough to drive you insane. You nearly sob when he pulls out but he barks out, “On your hands and knees.” You comply immediately, scrambling to fulfill his order. You arch your back as well as you can for him, pressing your chest to the mattress as you feel it sink beneath his weight behind you. He smacks your ass and you bite your lip to swallow the sound that pulls from you. Burying your face into the blanket at the same time he buries his thick cock back into your weeping hole. You moan into the blanket, your mouth falling open as he smacks your ass once again and readjusts his position. He plants one foot flat on the bed and that changes everything. The force he uses for the next thrust not only punches an unfamiliar sound from you but pushes you up the bed just a little. One of his hands tightens around your waist while the other trails up your back. For the moment, you think he’s going for the leash until he laces his fingers into your hair and pulls.

You gasp into the open air as he doesn’t break pace. You claw at the bed, your ah-ah-ah’s fill the room and you feel yourself clenching around him. Fuck, he just needs to keep going and you might just cum. You’ve never cum from just penetration before, god wouldn’t that be something else? “What a good fucking slut. Are you a good slut?”

“Y-yes sir!” You reply between moans, barely able to catch your breath at this point as his hand comes down hard on your ass.

“Thats fucking right. And you’re my slut.” You nod, eager to please him. To make him continue, god you’re so fucking close. “Gonna cum?” You reply with a nod which gets your ass a slap, “Speak when I talk to you.”

“Yes sir!” You slur out, fingers digging further into the blanket. You feel a sob building up in your throat as he only doubles down. The fingers digging into your waist move as his bulky arm (you want to bite it so bad. You had looked at his profile pictures just to stare at them) wraps around your hips and his fingers immediately find your hardened clit, begging for stimulation. Your orgasm is like a brick wall, fuck you haven’t cum for months. Your legs start to cramp and begin shaking, you actually let out a choked sob as you clench around his cock like you’re trying to choke the life out of it. You're fully submerged in that cloudy state, words just falling out of your mouth at this point. “Thank you thank you thank you.” You repeat, a few tears dripping from your cheeks onto the blanket.

You don’t even fight, wouldn’t want to anyways, as he pushes down on your back and forces you to lay on your belly. When he pushes his cock back into you, there’s a slight burn and you know you have clenched down on him hard. Your mind is still spinning from the orgasm, you’re not even down in your body when he thrusts. The sound you make is somewhere between a scream and a moan, to be honest you can’t really tell because you’re too busy focusing on the hand that wraps around your throat to force your head back up. “Fucking slut.” He grunts out and you can only attempt to nod in agreement. You are. You know you are. Only sluts like to be fucked like this, like that sting on their skin. That bite of pain that makes your head fuzzy. You’re vaguely aware of his other hand wandering over the expanse of your ass before it dips in between your cheeks. You’re pulled just slightly out of that haze as he spits down on you, the glob of saliva landing near where he intends before he swipes it up with his thumb. Your eyes widen and you feel your pussy gush at the realization of what’s happening. Slowly, he pushes his thumb into your puckered hole and you can’t hold your head up at the pressure. It makes your legs kick just a little until he’s down to the knuckle. He hooks it in you, using it like fucked up leverage. It makes your skin prickle with heat and push you back into that haze, pushing you further than you were before.

When his hand moves from your throat you gulp down some air for only a second before it's replaced by his arm. Your moans are cut short but he doesn’t seem to mind, fuck he seems to like it more when you try to moan but can’t. Each one being cut off by a different sound he’s punching out of your lungs each time his cock bullies back into your weeping cunt. With a grunt, you feel it against your back; the rumble of his chest as his hips still and he fills the condom. You mourn the lack of warmth within your cunt when he pulls out. You know it's for the best, at least for now while the two of you figure things out and push your limits. But fuck you would love to have his cum seeping out of you.

You roll over, trying to catch your breath when you see him rolling on another onto his still hard cock. You can’t decide if your stomach plummeted or if it flipped. This time, he doesn’t hide that smirk on his face and it flips something in your brain. Makes you want to bare your throat so he can push his teeth into the delicate skin until there’s blood. Until your blood coats his lips and teeth, until the tang of iron is on his tongue. He crawls over you, pushing your legs up so his hips can settle between them. His fingers hook under your collar as he pushes his cock back into you. It dawns on you that he hadn’t been all the way in at first. He must have left a few inches out because when he pushes all the way this time, you feel that delightful pinch in your stomach and that burn from your hole. Next time, you decide, you’re going to really get a look at his cock. Really admire it. Because you can feel how he thickens at the base, you can feel how the tip of him pushes against your unyielding cervix.

He pulls your head up towards him, his mouth by your ear as he begins his pace again. You have to brace your hands against the headboard, slightly worried you might hit your head against it with the way he’s rutting into you. Kyle pulls moans from you like it’s his right and for now, it is. You completely surrendered your body to him for this, you told him to his face on the car ride home from the coffee shop that you like to be used. You want to be fucked like a doll. And by god, he was fulfilling that request. “When you’re with me I own you.” He growls out. His words take you by surprise and you look at him, your eyes wide like prey caught in the sight of a predator. Kyle’s beautiful brown eyes have darkened and he looks at you like he is a predator, like a fox licking its chops as it spots a bunny. “Your mouth. Your ass. Your cunt. I own them now.”

You nod and swallow down the sob nearly tearing its way from your throat, “Yes sir.”

“Thats fucking right. I own you, your holes are mine to use.” And he slams his cock back in, one hand shoots to his arm and you claw, choking yourself on the collar as you throw your head back.

You blink up at the ceiling, his thumb rubs against your skin in a soothing manner. A request you had made when it came to aftercare. You time your breaths and slowly bring yourself back to your body. You glance at him, unable to form words and he seems to be lacking them too despite the fact he had repeated what he said. His words still echo in your head, making your insides all fuzzy when you think about it. “So,” He finally says a minute later, “are you usually free on weekends?”

[nanivinsmoke]

✩ Fire We Make.

endeavor x blackfem!reader

✩ a miniseries based off my one shot the assistant. this will be a multi part series and i will always link the previous one for you guys.

✩ this is not canon endeavor, he’s not abusive at all. hes actually very loving, just a little dick at times. also the reader is black (we all cheered). also thank you for 1k followers, yall all some freaks <3.

✩ warnings & tags: i switch perspectives a lot in this, there’s no nsfw yet. established crush.

you’ve got to be fucking kidding.

there’s no way, absolutely no fucking way, especially not on your first day.

you were currently in the arms of a big sasquatch, who tormented a bunch of civilians as they ran for their lives. you should’ve turned on another block, but you just had to take a main road. and to make matters worse you were going to be late for your new job.

you cursed yourself and everyone who prayed on your downfall the past couple of years, blaming them for the situation you were in. but, as your mind was preoccupied a series of flames were being thrown at the big hairy man; making him lose grip on your body.

‘great. now im going to fall to my death’

you closed your eyes and said a prayer, hoping someone would hear it. and it felt like someone did because you were engulfed in a set of big muscular arms. looking up at your savior, you were shocked to see the number two hero holding you.

endeavor, placed you down and continued to throw flames at the villain; causing him to stop drop and roll. and while that happened, a reinforcement team captured the sasquatch, sending him to jail.

you smoothed out your black and white striped skirt, grabbing your fallen brief case—before you were suddenly ridiculed by the man who judged you.

“you’re lucky i was already in this area. hopefully you’ll stay out of harm’s way” his voice deep and stern, causing you to roll yours eyes. you were going to give him a piece of your mind, but your watched ticked and you remembered where you had to be.

“fuck! im so g’na get fired.” he turned to look at you and with an eye roll he picked you up. “where do you have to go?”

“The Endeavor Agen—oh,” you realized that you were now in the arms of your boss and you hoped that he wasn’t going to fire you. he rolled his eyes once more and continued into the direction of his agency.

it didn’t take long for the two of you to arrive, and when you did, he led the way to his floor; where his office resided. while the two of you waited for the elevator, he decided to ease the awkwardness by talking, saving you from biting your fingers off.

“what position are you here for?”

“im here to be your assistant. please don’t let what just happened to steer you away from me. im good at what i do, check my credentials.” you pulled a folder out of your black leather briefcase, your heels clicking while you walked into the elevator.

he said nothing as he read your file, making you even more nervous. so, you decided to keep talking. “i hear your going to be appointed the number one hero and I think it’s best to have a press conference before. it would ease the minds of the civilians, it would let them know that their in good hands. you should make this about them, but also mention allmight. how you know it’s big shoes to fill, but you thank home for every he’s done.”

his deep dark red eyebrows rose as he listened to you talk, his bright eyes still on your a-list resume. everything checked out, you had tons of recommendations from other hero’s and celebrities. maybe you were a good fit for this job.

you paused, wondering what did he have to say about your suggestion as the elevator doors opened up to the penthouse floor. the office was huge, a bunch of desks neatly placed on the floors; each decorated with the employees most favorite things. the windows were huge, sky rise, giving off a perfect view of the city.

he finally motioned for you to continue, still leading the way to his office, “I also feel like you should switch out your hero suit and go with a nice business suit. navy blue’s your favorite color, but i feel like a nice cool gray armani suit would make you look more trusting. i believe there should already be a selection of suits in your office already.”

he was amazed at how you moved, how you already planned ahead, despite what caused you to have a delay. he opened the door to his office, the smell of fresh oak and cinnamon hit your nostrils, making you feel warm inside. and just like you predicted, a stand with suits hanging from it was in his office, waiting for him.

“Alright, I won’t fire you. But, you also have to attend this conference with me. Hope you have an extra outfit for you to wear,” you sighed, knowing you were here to stay; warmed you.

“ill have a darker gray pantsuit on the way for me. our colors will compliment each other, sending a message that you stand as a unit. I’ll let you get dressed and I’ll call the car for us when you’re ready to go.” She smiled and he couldn’t help the one that grew on his. She was perfect already.

On their way to the conference hall, she decided to go over a few things with her boss; to prepare him for what’s to come. “Sir, you might get some questions that might upset you and are triggering, but I want you to leave those to me. Let me answer those questions. You wouldn’t want them to think negative of you, okay?” She advised and the pro-hero nodded. He admired her preparation and was glad to have her on his team.

Soon, the company car stopped and they were outside of the hall. Paparazzi stood outside waiting to snap a picture of the flame hero and he mentally cringed. “Media will have a field day with any negative picture of you, let’s just ignore them.” She led the way inside, ignoring the camera people’s questions.

The conference came and went, it was successful. All though there was a question from a reporter about Endeavor’s youngest son.

“How do you feel about your youngest becoming a pro-hero in the making and having to fight your battles?” y/n took over the mic and answered the question for him.

“He’s not fighting his father’s battles, he’s learning. As any UA student it’s common that you’re going to get a lesson where you’d might fight a villain or two, stronger than you. You will have to persevere and understand your strengths and the opponents weaknesses. It’s apart of the journey of getting stronger and becoming a hero.”

the way you were able to answer the question and leave the reporter satisfied, with no further questions; was amazing. He could see why you have so many recommendations already. Endeavor grabbed that microphone and thanked everyone for their time, before the two of you departed and hopped back into the company car.

the sky turned a shade of dark amber as the sun began to set, signifying that it was getting late. as the two exited the tinted black car and it drove away, they stood outside the building for a second; looking at each other before Endeavor spoke.

“Would you care to join me for dinner, I usually order take-out and eat it here; before tying up some things at the office.” you smiled and nodded your head, this would be a good opportunity for you to get to know you boss a little bit better.

on the elevator ride up, found a place to order from; putting in your order and his. and it didn’t take long for the food to get there either, as soon as you walked off; a delivery hero was there waiting with your food. after tipping the hero and grabbing the food, you followed him inside his huge office. he sat in his leather rolling chair and you took the liberty of sitting on his desk.

while the two of you ate, you quickly got to know each other. you talked about a variety of things and you learned he was actually very funny. soon, the sky was now a dark blue, adorned with an array of white stars, and the two of you had finished eating. but, you weren’t ready for the day to end just yet.

a question you were dying to ask popped into your head and flew right out of your mouth, “How’s your wife?” you wanted to scrape your skin off, trying to avoid his gaze as he his face changed from a variety of expressions.

“She’s good…why’d you ask?” his answer was not the one you were hoping for and you wished you could just retract your statement. “Nothing. I just wanted to know.”

His icy stare pierced the side of your face and you couldn’t ignore it, it was like he was melting you from the outside. Like he could see what you were thinking. “My marriage…is complicated.” Endeavor admitted, running a hand through his spiky red hair.

You held your hands up and shook it, “you don’t have to explain your marriage to me. forget that i asked! Hey, it’s getting late. I’ll see you tomorrow” before he could even respond, you grabbed your food and headed out the door. Too embarrassed to turn around.

Endeavor watched you walk out the door, a twinge of confusion and disappointment came over him. He wanted to call you back over, but he resisted the urge and let you walk right out the door. “Yeah, see you tomorrow…”

The next day rolled around rather quickly, it was more dull than the day before. That’s because you were doing your best to avoid him. You kept to yourself, organizing your files, scheduling meetings and replying to emails. The only time you spoke to him was for little things and you kept it professional, and short. You were so embarrassed from yesterday.

You had a crush on Endeavor before you started to work for him and the day he saved you, increased the attraction you felt for him. So, when you found out he was still married; even with their problems, you were disappointed. You couldn’t compete with that.

Soon, the amber gaze fell over the sky once again and the employees soon left the building one by one—only leaving the two of you. Endeavor was waiting for everyone to leave, that way he could finally talk to you; without extra ears. his six foot five frame towered over you and yours desk, making you look up from the paperwork you had neatly stacked on your desk.

“I wanted to know if you’re okay? you seemed very distant.” his voice was softer than usual and his cool blue eyes stared at your softer ones.

“Im okay, why?” your words had came off a little bit aggressive than you hoped. “just wanted to let you know, if you need to talk….im here.” he gave you a small smile and walked back into his office.

you sighed, slamming your pen down onto the stack of paper, before putting your hands onto your melanated face. you sat there, thoughts running rampant, before you got up and entered his office with a knock. “Sir?”

“yes, y/n?” his expression was neutral, watching you as you walked closer to his desk.

“i want to apologize. i was really rude to you and yesterday was not something i should be asking my boss.”

“don’t worry about it, besides i didn’t take offense to it” his smile made you relax, feeling like you got a a chip off your shoulder. you sat on the edge of his desk, as a mental reminder went off in your head. “hey, i see there’s an annual hero charity event happening this saturday. are you going to attend?”

“charity events are my kind of thing…ill pass” you pouted and got even more comfortable on his desk, eyes pleading with him. “It’ll be a good look for you and the agency, plus I’ll be attending. what do you say?”

he took a nice long pause, formulating what he was about to say next, “Alright. Alright, I’ll see you Saturday. Don’t expect me to be happy about it though.” you smiled and clapped your hands, reaching over to hug your boss, allowing him to take in your scent. the smell of your strawberries and creme perfume was intoxicating to him. the two of you sat there, longer than expected before you pulled away.

“See you saturday and goodnight” he watched you get up from his desk and strutted out his office door. your long legs jiggled each time you moved, hypnotizing him, until he couldn’t see them anymore. ‘Damn’ he whispered to himself and brushed his hair back.

he couldn’t wait to see you again.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 9/17/2024

come take this very very friendly little man out of my bathroom! he is fiv+ and we are in houston tx! i am willing to drive a couple hours for the right home! he is a good boy he's just orange! more details here!

listening

emily jeffri's DENY off my spotify recommended weekly playlist: i can only describe it as "throbbing". immediately attention grabbing lyrics:

What kind of lover does your mother want? I'll do whatever, oh but you could not

very distinctly indie electronica. this would be the song in a cyberpunk/80s hacker movie where the chase takes you through an goth/alt fashion show where the models are actively giving blood as they walk or something.

i love the spotify daily mix for me and my bestie bc there's a guaranteed four bluey songs on it and it's a nice jumpscare. i know my mental health is taking a turn for the worse when a lot of mother mother starts popping up, i know my bestie's is taking a turn for the worse when a lot of girl in red starts popping up. suicide-watch-level sapphic angst singer-songwriter, generally. except for this song! extremely fun! didn't even recognize it as her! DOING IT AGAIN BABY is a more traditional selling-you-a-dodge-charger car commercial song and it's such a startling departure from her usual work that i wonder if it was a commercial commission? hard to immediately find out tho

I'm on a new level Something's got me feelin' like I could be inflammable And I might be I'm gonna light it up Nothing's gonna stop me if I say this is what I want

-

reading

i read twilight (yes that one) at the behest of my bestie and bc my mental health could not have gotten any worse in that moment. it has led to some uncomfortable realizations about my high school experience i will save for a therapist. i am mostly putting it here to remind myself that i read this book this year.

^ this is some silly goofy nonsense. not that i think people shouldn't be recognized at their retirement, but what happened to giving people nice watches instead of a thousand dollars in plaques

Saying that, the records did reveal something actually interesting: although the individual contract I sent a request related to was for a few thousand dollars, an attached blank purchase agreement (BPA) says that “the government estimates, but does not guarantee, that the volume of purchases through this BPA will be $360,000.00 over the term of the BPA.” So, a lot more than a few thousand bucks.

-

watching

Hang 'Em High (1968, dir. Post). certainly not clint's sluttiest role but really up there. i do wish he kept the fucked-out little rasp for the whole movie :(

When an innocent man barely survives a lynching, he returns as a lawman determined to bring the vigilantes to justice.

it has a typical bizarre shoehorned romance that (i think) deeply undercuts the theme it wants to explore, but there is no on-screen rape. the bar is on the FLOOR with westerns and yet i DNF so so so many.

hell of a whump film. literally everything happens to jed cooper. i will trumpet this again from the rooftops: that character needs cbt both ways.

-

playing

HIGHWATER, a 2022 adventure/turn based strategy thing from Rogue Games, courtesy of Netflix Games, whose game library is a fucking nightmare to navigate on mobile.

i loooove a water-based postapoc. the boat does in fact handle very poorly and like a horrible inflatable raft on mobile, which is both charming and frustrating.

i do not love a turn-based combat. despite the vibes off the charts, including a very well integrated "pirate radio" station as the game's soundtrack, i am not patient enough to muddle through complex turn-based combat. i'm sure someone had fun fighting off six guys and two bears (who aggro anyone and can one-hit anyone) and then a further three guys who show up for backup but i gave it the good old college try over two days and wasn't able to swing it. it would be nice to have either a difficulty setting or some way to spectate the ideal fight, but alas. a lot of fun environmental stuff in the fights you can use to your advantage, like the bears and these trees you can flatten your opponents with in a much earlier fight. there's a fun mix of different characters with different abilities and different weapons you pick up and keep during fights. i have no specific beef with this game's choice to make this the way you move through the game, it's just not my preferred genre.

a lot of book and newspaper collectibles in this one that i feel of several minds about. it feels less like environmental storytelling through newspapers and just the devs telling me their opinion when they provide little book summaries like this. also i wish The Industry as a whole was more thoughtful about using the word "insurgent".

not a game for me, i have once again confirmed that i cannot tolerate a turn-based combat no matter how much seafaring postapoc you drench it in :(

-

making

got a Phantom Menace era curtain panel for $4 at the thrift, and i was convinced it was fabric someone had made into a curtain panel until i got home and discovered it was an officially licensed product with bafflingly generous seams.

it's about two-ish yards of a 50/50 cotton/poly blend, which i feel like i haven't seen in a while? i think the current fashion leans more 70/30 or 100 poly for curtains i've purchased. after i finish unpicking the seams and pinking it, i am going to throw it in the wash again with some vinegar and see if that softens it up any, or if it makes the transition between the wear lines on the seams and the body of the fabric any nicer.

thinking about what kind of dress to make that 1) shows off this extremely large scale pattern 2) does not look like i am wearing a paper bag, and 3) does not look like the late aughts craft trend of sewing a twin flat Star Wars sheet to a tube top and calling that a dress, bc that's how hard up we were for feminine merch. much to consider. maybe it Will be a maxi skirt with pockets and i can wear one of my seventy black tees on top?

[bowlinggwithmargo]

Hey All! I finally finished a five-part essay exploring multiple sibling dynamics from multiple animes using something I've dubbed the Goliad Dilemma.

The dilemma and essay are structured based on the Adventure Time episode Goliad.

I'll be analyzing:

Johan Liebert and Nina Fortner Naoki Urasawa's Monster

Millions Knives and Vash the Stampede from Trigun

Donquixote Doflamingo and Donquixote Rocinante (Cora) from One Piece

Hyakunosuke Ogata and Yuusaku Hanazawa from Golden Kamuy.

Asking important questions like:

How did Francis Bonaparta shape Johan outlook on the world?

Why is Knives so pathetic?

Did Doflamingo care about his brother?

What the fuck is wrong with Ogata?

And more...

Essentially, I'm trying to answer how these sibling relationships became so twisted in the first place (which sounds easy, but it surprisingly isn't because this isn't a question of morality but rather of how these siblings broke apart, who is responsible for them fighting against each other, and how the core traumatic event that befell them led to two different outlooks on life.)

There are also some nods to Twin Peaks, Dororo (2019), Succession, and Camouflage (1977). I recommend other supplementary media for you to check out and dig into the themes of nihilism and existentialism present in each work.

This essay was a six-month labor of love. I would love it if you could check it out and let me know your thoughts! :)

[caeli0306]

For the writers’ ask game thing (please and thank you!):

❤️🎁👻

———————

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

✍️ What’s your ideal writing setup?

🚀 Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

🏷 Is there a tag you like to search for when looking for fanfics to read?

⏰️ Do you like to post fics on a schedule or at random?

👓 What helps you focus when you write?

💕 What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

🐇 Do you write for yourself, for others, or both?

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

🍬 Do you write for multiple fandoms? If yes, what is your favorite fic of yours for each fandom?

🌻 How often do you read your own fics?

📗 Do you want to write something outside of fanfiction? If so, what about?

🎬 If a movie or show were based on your fic, which fic would you choose and who would you fancast?

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

🧪 Do you research for your fics?

😎 What fics do you prefer on a scale of canon compliant to wildly original?

💎 Do you often write about a relationship or focus on an individual?

🔥 Have you included any sexy scenes in your fics? If yes, do you find them easy or difficult to write?

💘 Is it easier to write angst or fluff?

🚦What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.?

💡How many WIPs do you currently have?

🔎 Does anyone beta read or edit your fics?

📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?

🤩 What led to your interest in the fandom?

🤖 Are non-fandom friends aware that you write fanfic?

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

👑 Do you like writing short fics or long fics?

🎯 Do you have a writing milestone you’re working towards?

🔮 Any advice for writers working through burnout or writer’s block?

🤔 Would you ever want to write something canon if you got the opportunity?

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Ooh thanks for asking!

❤️ - This is so hard. A few options b/c I can't choose!

from castles crumbling chapter 2

I want to scream, but I can’t get the air into my lungs. This isn’t fair. If Malek had to take anyone, he should have taken me. Not this innocent child. Not these people celebrating their gods. Me. A murderer. Someone who so long ago lost my humanity that I barely even remember what it felt like to be human.

This line from the present, the past, and you in between:

The war was long, but my life with her has been longer. I used to say that I've lived on borrowed time, and I accepted that my life was destined to be short. Then I began to pray to Malek, begging to borrow more, all to spend with her.

Combined with this line:

I begged Malek for more time, and he gave me too much.

From Did Someone Say Shots?:

Instead, I slept with her when I knew how horrible of an idea it was, and it fucking destroyed me when, in the morning light, she called it a mistake. Look at me, dealing with the consequences of my own actions.

Last but definitely not least, from chapter 6 of castles crumbling:

I laid my old self to rest a long time ago, but he is still there at the wake, trying to make sense of her demise.

🎁 - a lil blurb from an unpublished one shot, if it pleases the court :)

Then Xaden walks into the conference room. He has the kind of presence that makes people shut up and pay attention, and I hate him for it. The chatter that permeated the air dies away instantly, replaced by the silence of worshippers waiting for words from their god on high. I guess Xaden fulfills that role here. Those golden eyes of his find me almost immediately, and I school my expression into a glare. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. That's the message I want him to receive. Instead, he only smirks, and then turns to retrieve a folder from Bodhi, who followed him in. Xaden takes a seat at the head of the long table, sitting as casually as one would in their own living room. He props his elbows on the table, the movement causing the muscles of his arms to bulge under the rolled up sleeves of his black button up shirt. I hate that he looks that good without even trying. I hate that I know what he looks like under that shirt even more. As if sensing that I was thinking about him, about That Night, he meets my eyes again, and his grin this time is downright filthy. "Shall we begin?" he asks. "Sorrengail, you're up. Tell us how you plan to save our asses, and try to make it quick." Oh, fuck him. I plaster on my most fake smile, and stand. Liam gives me a look from where he stands, that basically says Don't do something you'll regret. Luckily for me, I've about expended my regret reserves when it comes to Xaden Riorson. If he wants to be an ass, then fine. I'll be an ass in return. He needs me a whole lot more than I need him.

👻 - IDK if it's a headcanon, but I like to think Xaden sometimes needs assurances that she's not going to leave and that she loves him because he doesn't think he's worthy of her. Not in like, a toxic way, or in the "I need to know you'll be there" way that he brought up in IF, but more every day, like "Hey I'm feeling x right now, and need to hear that my brain is creating scenarios that aren't real." IDK if I'm making any sense.

[minato-division01]

Results!

It's now time to reveal who's the most popular member of Oculus! Truthfully, we would have released this earlier in the week, but, as usual, life got in the way, so we decided to just wait until now, when the anniversary is over.

But anyway, here are the results! The fan favorite for Minato Division's Oculus is...

Aika Yumi!

She led the majority of the race throughout the entire week, earning five votes with Nadya getting one, and Meari having none.

We're happy to see Aika is so popular by many of her fans! Truthfully, she's exactly what we had in mind when we created her. A large part of her personality and character is based off of Jessie Maye from Huniepop (If you haven't played it, we highly recommend it), so we're glad we did her justice. Although, we are a little shocked that Meari didn't get any votes, whilst Nadya got one. As much as we like Nadya, we definitely have more fun writing with Meari cause its easy to memorize what she is going to say and do, whilst with Nadya we have a little more trouble.

But in any case, thank you to all who participated in the poll. We truly appreciate it.

Meari: "Are you fucking serious?! How the hell does the Doc here get one vote, while I don't have any?! What kinda bullshit is that?!"

Nadya: "Perhaps you aren't as popular as you seem to think you are, Ruffian. Or perhaps the people of this country are as tired of that insidious noise you make as I am."

Meari: "Yeah, screw you, Doc. I don't know what kinda bullshit fraud you pulled off here, but..."

Nadya: "Ha! Ruffian, if you honestly believe in that empty head of yours that I had anything to do with you not receiving any votes, then you're even more of a simpleton than I'd originally thought, if that's even possible."

Meari: "Oh, fuck you!"

Aika: "Ladies, please. Regardless of who received votes and who didn't, it was still a good competition."

Meari: "Oh, please. You're only saying that shit cause you not only won, but was in the majority of the lead the entire race."

Aika: "I'll admit, that may have something to do with it. But regardless, it's the end of our anniversary, sadly. So, let's try to leave on a positive note, okay?"

Nadya: "That's fine with me."

Meari: "Yeah, I guess. ...I still want to know who was the idiot that voted for the Doc, though."

Aika: "...That is a valid question, Nadya. Who did vote for you?"

Nadya: "Why do either of you assume I would know who voted for me? I do not know, nor do I care to know."

Meari: "Ha! The Doc's not used to being liked, so she's trying to play it off like it means nothing."

Nadya: "And remind me, Ruffian, which of the two of us received one vote, whilst the other received none?"

Meari: "..."

Nadya: "Yes, my thoughts exactly."

Meari: "Oh, shut the hell up!"

[raphaelesbian]

Asdfghjkl that post you made about Saki and Yoshi is making me INSANE!!! 2012 truly went so hard with that dynamic and the two of them have been rotating around in my head for years but I NEVER noticed how much time must have taken place between Saki finding out the truth and the night Shen died. The IMPLICATIONS!!! The way you know it must have just festered on both ends. Gah!! On a related note might I humbly suggest listening to the song Brother by Madds Buckley. Every time I hear it all I can think of are 2012 Saki and Yoshi. Anyway thank you for your post!!! Amazing insight!! <3

fdskghksdhgkdg oh I love how we are all insane about them together rn ❤️❤️❤️❤️I am happy to have brought that little detail to your attention bc YEAH. oh my god!!!! literally I feel like i'm going to keep finding new aspects to obsess over for the rest of my life lmao. I feel like that's what makes their story and dynamic so interesting to me, like there's so many layers to peel apart yourself.

it FESTERED!!!! like, we all know Saki holds a fucking grudge lmao, and then I imagine the others were like. Just so happy to sweep it under the rug and pretend everything was fine. When all that really did was allow Saki to make things worse. Refusing to communicate, letting every minor annoyance or slight congeal around the base of "I'm an Oroku and they killed my family." Everything can just get grouped together and led back to the Big Hurt that he won't acknowledge, until it boiled over in the most catastrophic way.

OH MY GOD THIS IS SO?????? Thank you for this recommendation I'm literally insane about this it fits them SO WELL??? All the FIRE IMAGERY. Omfg this is literally. The LYRICS this could easily be written ABOUT THEM. I'm so deranged about this.

[gortius-viii]

Flag-rating world map

Hear ye! Hear ye!

Some time ago I undertook one of my usual arduous missions, because I am headstrong as fuck, which is not too dissimilar of a form of self-torture. I decided to go to the wikipedia article for "Flags of X [X = country]", and if that didn't exist, then "The flag of X", and based of how much I liked the flags shown in that article I'd give that country a rating from A (the best) to E (the worst), and colour said country a corresponding colour in a map.

This took longer that you might've though, you only get a feel of how many countries there are when you have to visit their wikipedia pages individually. Anyway, this journey of mine led me to reach some conclusions which I'd like to share with you, and see if you agree.

But before that, I'll share with you the clean map and the one with all the ratings, if you would like to make your own version.

"Can we stop with the nonsense that the 'flag of the president' has to be the coat of arms of a nation on top of some monochromatic background? Thank you. No, really, if you are going to make a flag - unnecessary by the way - for a government position that so uninspired, don't do it, what's the point? As I see it, these kinds of flags should be made when there is a significant symbolism or design you'd like a flag to have."

"Sometimes one would like to see a bit of international standardization among flags. In a thousand and one ways. But in this case I am talking about having flags for the same thing, for example, Denmark has a flag for it's postal service. Some countries have designs for when the flag is flown hanging vertically, others have looooong pennants for their ships, other not. But, one can only dream that vexillological comparisons could be carried out in equal footing. And can someone tell the nordic countries to choose if their naval flags should have two or three tails?"

"I have heard hundreds of times that 'you shouldn't put different designs on the two sides of the flag!', because it drives up costs, it's mirrored and 'strange'... bla bla bla. Those who tell you that can't see the creativity and originality in having two flags in one, go Oregon and Paraguay!"

"Unpopular opinion: The flag of Brazil isn't that good. Now, I could go on for ages talking about it, but I already talked about it in my podcast, so I'll send you off to there, but, mainly:

The location, size and everything about the stars is way to complex to be appreciated far away, and only helps to make the flag fuzzier. And although I appreciate the complex mathematical and astronomical calculations involved, I maintain that they're too much.

¿The motto in the middle? ¿Really?

Green and yellow don't fit together."

Now, this isn't in relation to the world map, but I still would like to write it down: "Recommendation to new vexillographers: don't make the mistake of trying to describe every little detail in a flag of yours when you are writing down a description of it. It just doesn't work like that, descriptions of flags are most of the time really vague, not so that you can reproduce it by the text alone, but as a mere formality. I learned this seeing what the Instagram user Flagible used to post on flag descriptions and so on. And I think I did a pretty good job here: https://www.worldanvil.com/w/las-islas-de-las-nueces-gortius-viii/a/algunas-descripciones-vexilologicas-article.

Thank you very much for reading.

[pumpkinblossoms]

OK, in the spirit of positivity, here are my top reads of 2022!

A bit in the way of context: I am a librarian, I read a lot, and, for better or for worse, I live and breathe books/publishing buzz/ARCs/etc. The list below is purely based on my own fully biased opinions, though those biases have nothing to do with whether I had early access to a title, a connection to the publisher, etc. and everything to do with whether a book is sad, gory, or gay. And thanks @explosionshark for suggesting I write this up!

DEAD COLLECTIONS by Isaac Fellman: holy fuck was this book good. The whole “trans vampire falling in love and solving a quiet, sad mystery in the archive where he works” angle is catchy, but this is definitely not the fluffy or straightforward story some people are after. I really loved how vampirism is depicted as a life-ruining weakness rather than a cool and sexy superpower. I also really loved the multimedia aspect of including forum posts and TV scripts and listserv chains.

BABEL: AN ARCANE HISTORY by R.F. Kuang: I think some criticisms of this one, like that it’s slow and repetitive and a little didactic, are founded. However, I couldn’t care less. R.F. Kuang excels at unhurried school stories that slowly and brutally dismantle themselves over hundreds and hundreds of pages, and the formula she establishes in the excellent Poppy War trilogy is perfected here. This is what actual dark academia looks like–The Atlas Six could never.

KISS HER ONCE FOR ME by Alison Cochrun: I used to read a lot of contemporary romance, specifically f/f romance, but after being burned over and over and over and OVER by bad books I’m incredibly selective about what I read and recommend in this genre. I gave Alison Cochrun a ton of shit for her incredibly mediocre debut, The Charm Offensive, but I am totally willing to say that she’s improved, and this book–while still definitely goofy and even grating at times–was probably the best f/f romance out in 2022 from a major publisher other than Delilah Green (which I read in 2021 and therefore did not include in this list, but also whose sequel sucked so much it honestly made me like the first one less). Do me a favor and don’t even read the back copy because it doesn’t make any fucking sense and will turn you off the book.

THE PALLBEARERS CLUB by Paul Tremblay: hoooo boy. OK. So this one got dismal reviews from the Goodreads crowd, but I believe fully and genuinely in my heart that everybody is wrong about it and should feel bad about how wrong they are. The thing is, Paul’s books are slow and atmospheric (are you sensing a theme to what kind of books I tend to like best) and there are no easy answers or moments of triumph or anything you might be led to expect via publisher-created blurbs or taglines. And going into a book with one expectation and having that expectation remain unmet is one of the quickest and simplest ways to have a bad-faith negative reaction to said book, in my personal experience. Like, could this book have been scarier? Definitely. But I loved it regardless, and I loved that the physical format of the book–Art’s memoiry fiction draft, or fictiony memoir draft, depending on your perspective, plus his best friend Mercy’s commentary written in red in the margins–is the sort of embodied story that I love because it fucking sucks to read on a screen or an ereader. You’re tied to the format, either print or audio (which I hear was well done for this one, though I haven’t heard it myself), and that’s great to me.

THE THOUSAND EYES by A.K. Larkwood: In my opinion this duology is criminally, WOEFULLY underrated. Csorwe is a grumpy butch orc warrior and she spends most of her time getting herself and her terrible frenemies out of trouble and also falling in love with a powerful sorceress. This book is the second one and is gloriously angsty and everyone gets middle-aged and sad and yet they all still pine for one another across time and space. I cried. I’m not sorry. It’s GOOD.

AN ARCHIVE OF BRIGHTNESS by Kelsey Socha: ok, full disclosure, this is my wife’s book, but it came out in August and it’s a lovely group of interwoven weird little gay stories. I would’ve loved it even if I didn’t share a mortgage with the author, I promise. Like, people live in houses made of scorpion corpses. Come on.

Honorable mentions: I didn’t really feel like getting too much into YA here, but I really liked CONFESSIONS OF AN ALLEGED GOOD GIRL by Joya Goffney, which was a really honest and interesting exploration of purity culture and religion; HOW TO EXCAVATE A HEART by Jake Maia Arlow, an interfaith winter holiday f/f romance (what a year for holiday romances, sheesh); and HELL FOLLOWED WITH US by Andrew Joseph White, a really gross and sad book that also manages to be incredibly, gleefully YA even as the protagonist morphs into a horrifying monster.

I also didn’t want to mention anything that hasn’t been released yet, so HOW TO SELL A HAUNTED HOUSE by Grady Hendrix and SOME DESPERATE GLORY by Emily Tesh are both out, even though both were SO GOOD and you should be foaming at the mouth to get your hands on them next year. And lastly, I didn’t think The Locked Tomb series needed any extra hype and if you haven’t picked it up yet it’s not like I’m going to convince you, so I didn’t bother saying anything about NONA THE NINTH although it was really very good.

And finally: I’m currently reading WHEN THE ANGELS LEFT THE OLD COUNTRY by Sacha Lamb which absolutely fucking rips so far, very much Good Omens meets Spinning Silver, but I haven’t finished it yet so it didn’t seem fair to count. I recommend it based on the first half, though!

PHEW ok that’s it! Send me your recs please!!

[llycaons]

Section Seven: The Dumpster Fire

Drawn from my exposure to some weird shit on ao3 and contributions from mutuals, these are fics that are so bad I’m posting them for the sole purpose of criticizing them and/or complaining about them. If you like bad plots or  nonsensical characterizations, come and have a laugh.

The Simplest Way Forward by harriet_vane

summary: one of the most generic, unjust, and soulless fics I’ve ever read. lwj has zero personality, wwx is extremely bland, and wen yuan’s mom is presented as criminally neglectful. the sex scenes are rote, mechanical, and devoid of passion or intimacy, and I felt negative chemistry throughout the entire work. jzx was an aggressive, uncouth homophobe, and jyl was a perfect pure angel whose decision to marry him had me baffled. almost impressive gold stars: the way a-yuan was written was legitimately excellent. accurate to his developmental age and genuinely touching. his abandonment issues and concept of family actually made me cry. a strange and unforgettable work

KILF (Knits I’d Like To Fuck in) by ScarlettStorm

summary: the sequel to the reluctantly recommended “For a Good Time, Call” includes and enthusiastically explores of every single thing that was slightly weird about that fic. quick summary of the main conceit: lwj and wwx are in a relationship, and wwx gets cold easily, and lwj decides to start a project to keep him warm. sounds cute? seemed cute! started out fine. but like the og fic, the relationship was just so lifeless and devoid of passion or chemistry. every chapter just made it painfully obvious that these weren’t cql characters to the op, they were (white) toys to play with. everyone talks like they’re trying to get an A in therapy. wwx is genderfluid, which is ofc fine but he said he wanted to be a stay-at home wife? and then he’s referred to as a ‘f*mboy’? uh nhs wears yoga pants...I love gnc characters but wwx and nhs are treated as very feminine to a degree that’s inappropriate especially given that nhs is frequenctly misread as gnc by white viewers due to his hobbies, which are not feminine by traditional chinese standards. jin zixuan is demisexual, I guess! wen qing is fucking jc! there’s nothing wrong with writing from what you know, but the characterizations were based off fucking...nothing from canon and actively disregarded canon and chinese fans’ input about characters. it was infuriating and it felt so disrespectful to every single creative voice involved in canon and I hated reading it so much

there was no plot and the majority of the fic focused on their home decor activities, which was boring as fuck, and their elaborate sex scenes, which were sooooo drawn out and pointless even when they tried to be ~character work~ and the fic further explored wwx making an OnlyFans and lwj participating in the most gratuitously sexual and crass way possible, but in a way that I THINK it was supposed to be sexy and titillating? I can’t even fucking tell! I didn’t like reading it! of course I respect sex workers but what WAS this! the romance writing truly did suck SO bad which is unfortunate because apparently the author is a professional romance writer? I had to take breaks multiple times because I kept getting genuinely upset and angry with it. who enjoys this? who enjoys this

highlighted excerpt:

“Nie Huaisang, nonbinary femme-leaning aromantic pansexual non-hierarchical polyamorous slut, at your service.”

- I’m embarrassed for the author

gold stars: the therapy talk may have been annoying but it did result in some heartfelt conversations and very satisfying depictions of wwx dealing with some shit and slowly recovering from it, which was kind of cool. like the previous fic in this series, it felt like the conversations led to actual progress and personal growth. also they fought in one of the scenes and I was so giddy because I thought they were about to break up, so it did give me that

Yunmeng Jiang loves their Sect Leader by Roselle_Storm

summary: this fic reads like a parody of those jc fans who refuse to think he’s ever done anything wrong. it’s short and funny and you can read the entire thing in a few minutes. the utter confidence of the author here. that the people of yunmeng know him intimately and love him. that he plays with war orphans and protects children. that he’s a tragic, self-sacrificing, self-loathing hero who is seen and recognized as such by his people. all this so completely at odds with his canon character and choices as to be enthralling

highlighted excerpt:

Yunmeng Jiang loves their Sect Leader and Jiang Cheng loves Yunmeng Jiang… but… no matter how hard they try; they cannot mend the broken heart of their beloved sect leader. They try and Jiang Cheng gives them all the love he has left but the pain on his heart is too deep for them to heal.

Jiang Cheng hurts every day. He hurts but he has to keep going. [...]

[Jin Ling] sees how Jiang Cheng plays with the children, the orphans of war. He takes care of their needs, and never neglects any of them.

- I CANNOT get over the 'plays with war orphans’ line for a character who openly advocated to abandon political prisoners, including a toddler, to mass murder. someone who has never played with a child once on screen and does not have a playful personality in the slightest. someone canonically deeply bitter and resentful and self-pitying and immature and emotionally volatile and aggressively violent. obsessed. enthralled

gold stars: it made me laugh very hard

my age has never made me wise by idrilka

summary: in the first few chapters of this insultingly characterized and poorly written postcanon get-together, an absurdly oblivious and incompetent wwx almost dies due to being bizarrely passive and bad at cultivation during a night-hunt. he later hears that lwj is planning to get married, and falls into a deep depression over it, because he’s just realized he wants to be the one to marry him.

jc gives wwx romantic advice like “YOU CAN’T GO WRONG WITH A COMB” yeah how did that work out for you, jc? also jc is The One Who Knows wwx somehow even though he tries to hide his true feelings, oh he can’t fool his brother! like ofc he can! that’s a huge part of their dynamic! wwx is also much more admiring and appreciative of jc here that is canon. also jc is really awful and emotionally manipulative and it’s just? not treated as an issue?? wwx never talks to him about it or set boundaries even though jc’s behavior makes him miserable?

as the miscommunication eventually starts to be sorted out in the most on-the-nose, unimaginative, boring way I could have imagined, I realized that lwj isn’t actually in this fic, it’s edward cullen from twilight. the excessive and yet generic declarations of love. the single-minded fixation on marriage. reluctance to have sex because they’re not married yet because he wants to adhere to some arbitary social standard his fiance clearly doesn’t care about, the readiness to marry two extremely young people who are also cousins (not canon to twilight but he WOULD), the weird presumptuousness regarding his love interest, the emphasis on family almost to the exclusion of what his fiance is actually comfortable with, etc. I think the phrase ‘I intend to do right by you’ is lifted directly from the pages of eclipse. like…he’s obsessed with doing things the ‘right way’ I do think honoring wwx is important to him but I just think the way he’s going about it is extremely unimaginative, impersonal, and most importantly, driven by what he wants instead of what wwx expresses to him that HE wants. canon lwj is so attuned to and respectful of wwx’s desires, whims, and emotional state, and so ready to accommodate him, that his fixation on this plan, and his forging ahead with it just feels so bizarre and out of left field when wwx varies in his responses so much.

also lwj is way too concerned about what others think - in canon lwj hates that wwx is being judged, but he’s not going to scramble to accommodate others and uphold the social conventions to appease them. in his mind if they have a problem, THEY should be the ones accommodate WWX instead. this lwj is so concerned with doing the right thing in regards to wwx so that he’s accepted by the world, when in canon lwj thinks wwx should be able to do whatever he wants and the rest of the world needs to deal with it. like his entire character arc is about rejecting mainstream judgements and trusting/believing in wwx and their shared moral compass. so who IS this man

overall this plot is nonsensical, the dialogue is heavy-handed and uninteresting, the characterizations are a mess, and there’s weird undertones of feminizing wwx that I really dislike (he mentions not having a DOWRY and there being no BRIDE PRICE). everything is so plain and unsubtle and spoon-fed to us, it’s really not a well-written piece. and this lwj is so ooc and unpleasant and boring, and he talks way too much. also there’s jl/lsz dropped in casually.

gold stars: the letters between lwj and wwx are actually quite substantial and interesting, which is a rarity among these types of fics. and the final wedding chapter is really sweet and passionate and I liked it. everything in the middle tho. pass

Twin Heroes by RavenclawLoki

summary: a hilariously ooc reconciliation work. more absurd than offensive. has nearly every bad jc take under the sun. pretending that wwx and jc both have the same amount of mistakes to work on. saying that jc always believed/hoped wwx had survived the fall. jc mentioning how revolting lwj and wwx holding hands is every two seconds. wwx loyally defending jc’s parenting skills even tho he canonically knows that jc has serious issues in the way he raises jl. and other stuff, like having jl lock wwx and jc in a room together, and having lwj being okay to just stand outside it. because wwx and jc are young children who will get along if they’re forced to spend time together, I guess? no effort to respect either of their stated needs and preferences. of course not. they don’t need space or time or support or trust to rebuild a healthy relationship. just force them to spend time together! also there’s like, sibling telepathy that’s not explained? the writing is also quite juvenile and awkward

highlighted excerpts:

“Wei Wuxian…”

“Jiang Cheng…”

“I don’t want to fight anymore!” Both yell out at the same time.

“Wait, really?” They say again at the same time.

- is this an american children’s show? are these characters 12 years old?

gold stars: sometimes it’s very funny in ways that MIGHT be intentional.

Drive the Wolves From My Door by InTheGreySpaces

summary: postcanon wwx, on his travels, runs into a pregnant teenager who’s been assaulted and takes her under his wing. due to some contrived, frustrating, drawn-out, and extremely nonsensical bits of miscommunication, lwj becomes convinced wwx is returning home with a wife and shuts himself away in his home so wwx, when he comes back to gusu, can’t even clear things up immediately. literally everyone knew the truth at one point but lwj was physically locked in his house. christ. like what happened to not jumping to conclusions and trusting wwx? you’re going to believe this on a vague message and the word of SECT LEADER YAO??

eventually things gets sorted out, but not before wwx magically takes on her pregnancy pains and they have to scramble to cure him of the spiritual attachment because…wwx going through the pain of childbirth would be so bad, but this teenager can do it just fine don’t worry about her. in the end wwx and lwj adopt the baby, which is cute, but then the young mother ends up marrying jc, which is not.

the oc baby is named "aimi' which based on every source I could find, is a terrible fake chinese name

I think it’s rather misogynistic and callous to make a woman’s sexual assault a set dressing to support a m/m romance, and then co-opt a survivor’s story to center the men who save her. the disrespect of her as a person all throughout…jc was a man of almost 40 and she was a teenager when they met. she was used as a plot device the entire fic and in the end she’s rewarded to this asshole like a prize. wwx also treats her very poorly (lying to her, revealing info about her without her consent, distracting her so he can sneak off, etc.) while pretending to protect her. the misogyny isn’t ooc for any of them, but I hate that the writing goes along with it too. a struggle from start to finish

highlighted excerpt:

‘Once Jiang Cheng sets his mind to something, it is done thoroughly. He will treasure her as a jewel no doubt….She will keep Jiang Cheng in line, and he will shower her with every affection. She deserves it after everything she has endured.’

- why is it this woman’s job to keep him in line...she doesn’t have a particularly strong personality anyway, and no she does not deserve this?!

gold stars: it’s nice when wx get a baby girl. and wwx being so very in love is cute. otherwise ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Everyanything by deliciousblizzardshark, lingeringdust

summary: to be fair I never finished this fic, but basically qin su kills herself out of grief/revenge like mxy did in canon, and wwx comes back in her body. but instead of qin su’s canon situation. she’s locked in a filthy shed with a baby by the time she does the sacrifice. so it’s basically genderbent mxy with a baby? the emphasis on wwx’s post-res body really weirded me out, going on about massive, leaking breasts and all, and the discomfort of…a period? maybe? I guess being in A Woman’s Body is just aches and pains and leaking from who knows here. also, wwx doesn’t know the word for vagina which is absurd enough to land it on this list even without the undertones of feminization.

highlighted excerpt:

“The baby has to be changed and fed,” Wei Wuxian said. Lan Wangji gave him a suspicious look.“We will fetch food for the child,” he said. Wei Wuxian blinked at him, then laughed nervously. “Ah, Hanguang-jun,” he said. “Babies this young don’t eat food. I have to feed him myself.” - lwj doesn’t know about breastfeeding. maybe not too unbelievable given the separation of genders in his sect but that seems extreme gold stars: well I guess wwx is trans now so there’s that

all that glitters by notinamillionyears

summary: ah, the infamous christian wwx fic. the author was projecting, I guess? so this is already a red flag for me in fan content - I know chinese christians exist of course, but I don't like to see wuxia characters reimagined like that this fic in particular goes to such lengths to give him long philosophical monologues about god and cathedrals that this character is entirely unrecognizable from canon wwx in literally every single way. wwx is a character from a chinese wuxia series, the folklore and worldbuilding of which is extremely significant to his personal journey and character, and draws heavily from taoism. furthermore, the worldviews of taoism and christianity are so fundamentally different that any change to these characters' underlying belief system will almost inevitably alter them as people in ways I am utterly uninterested in. and erasing the canon spiritualities and realities of these characters to replace them with christianity is also incredibly disrespectful and tone-deaf. nonsensical, insensitive, and poorly characterized as this is, it easily qualifies as one of the worst fics I’ve ever read. and few of his ramblings even make sense for his personality or apply to anything he goes through in canon. imo wwx is not wwx if he's christian. he's just not. and don't even get me started on 'catholic lwj' or fans trying to characterize the lan sect as catholic. not in this fic but the posts I have seen about it... also there’s some kind of creepy ageplay-related content but I genuinely find the christian thing worse. in the words of a beloved mutual: what are you, a missionary? highlighted excerpt: Lan Zhan swallows hard, then again, his beautiful Adam’s Apple bobbing like he’d eaten something he didn’t chew properly and it’s stuck in his throat. Is it called Adam’s Apple because it got stuck in Adam’s pharynx after he’d realized that he’d eaten the thing that would chuck him out of heaven? Are Adam’s Apples here to remind us that we have a sin embedded forever into our body, that it’s inescapable? - I think wwx has had enough to deal with in his life, without being forced to perceive himself and his life through the filter of christian sin. leave him alone gold stars: actually, the fic is pretty good on a technical level. I have no complaints about the plotless, atmospheric, meandering story. the broad emotional strokes of it - desperate, reflective and tragic - really did draw me in, the language evocative and rich. and there were some passages about wwx’s chronic pain that I felt were quite moving.

Taste of Heavenly Rush by Tomorrow (Sux2Succs)

summary: an extremely offputting and unpleasant roleplay fic, albeit with an interesting twist that retroactively legitimizes many previous interactions. the setup is that wwx, bored and neglected by his nameless husband, is approached by a sexy sexy rich stranger who buys him food and brings him up to his penthouse for sex. wwx gives his name as ‘xie lian’ and the stranger (obviously lwj) gives his as ‘hua cheng’. the thing is. wwx is still called wwx, but the narrative only calls lwj ‘hua cheng’, and he acts exactly like tgcf’s hua cheng does. so most of this reads as a pwp between hua cheng and wwx, which is deeply unappealing anyway but there are little moments where ‘hc’ comes on so strong and pushy it seems like he’s pressuring wwx into sex, hc is frequently possessive and presumptuous about someone he literally just met, or implies wwx owes him for the food. gritted my teeth through this nightmare until - it’s revealed about 3/4 of the way through that this was all an elaborately pre-planned roleplay, lwj IS the as-yet-nameless husband, and all the pushiness and possessiveness were in fact just kind of funny choices in a long playacting activity. but even as the atmosphere radically improves, the weirdness lingers. for most of the story, there’s almost nothing of the actual lwj shining through, and since their personalities are faked and then it’s so physical, it feels like there is nothing emotional or genuine between them. maybe this is all down to personal taste, but i just don’t like reading wx fics where they’re not acting like themselves on purpose. furthermore, the fact that lwj is just playing hc strips away what’s interesting and vulnerable and compelling not just about lwj but also about hc himself. the person in this fic is neither, just a caricature of an extremely rich and unrealistically sexy, confident Manly man with a dash of god worship. it felt like he walked right out of twilight (which I’ve read) or even fifty shades of gray. canon lwj can’t even lie and we’re supposed to believe he can keep up this level of roleplay? he’s just not a playful person. unless this is just really close to how the author treats him anyway which….1. ew and 2. ooc!! does the author really see every gay couple as the Tall Muscular Manly Rich Confident Top and the Shy Unsatisfied Feminine Emotionally Needy Giggly Vain Bottom????  finally, I understand that writing a wwx POV pre-reveal without letting the secret out must have been tricky, and they do pull off some fun and clever bits, but there are multiple scenes where wwx’s internal dialogue makes literally no sense when you know he knows it’s lwj, so the reveal is impossible to predict and feels less satisfying afterwards (or on a reread). wwx also references multiple times that it’s been a long time since he’s felt so sexy or that he’s had the thrill of being with someone so exciting, so that points to his life with lwj being boring or unfulfilling, which kind of sucks. lwj is a busy surgeon, and wwx is left taking care of their kid and apparently not getting his needs met, framed like he’s some unsatisfied housewife, so like, I guess his married life sucks? that’s not what I want for them! this is set in shanghai, so I also found it weird that wwx described men multiple times as “asian”, first of all that’s a huge variety of people, and second of all HE’S asian and living in/from an asian country so why would he mention that? and I can’t emphasize enough how goofy this shit was written. self-aware or no, it was bad. they described a dick as “a delectable flared mushroom’. they also embedded links to various expensive outfits, rooms, hot tubs, etc, which was supposed to set the scene I guess but it was both distracting and came off as desperate and over-compensating, and seemed to be more about self-indulgent fantasies of luxury than about the characters. wwx is canonically not the kind of person to care about grandiose displays of nauseating wealth, something he actually mentions in the fic itself, but it doesn’t seem to matter, bc the author certainly thinks we should be impressed and that the characters are impressed as a matter of course. but he literally hates that shit in canon! highlighted excerpts (yeah, multiple)

“Come here,” the naked god beckons.

... By the time they enter a bedroom, [he’s] is heedlessly bouncing on his cock, wantonly humping and grunting like a wild beast.

...

Thick black hair is sent tumbling down, ends reaching all the way to his shoulder blades — long enough now to cover his chocolate nips like Lady Godiva. and the big one As if Wei Ying didn’t feel outclassed enough, he doesn’t miss the sparkling diamond bezel around the black dial of his platinum Rolex. A watch like that would make Wei Ying’s hands look feminine in size while his hands make the watch itself look small. It suits him.

this dynamic is all wrong, too. in canon, wwx never feels intimidated or outclassed by lwj’s wealth or physical appearance - rather, he feels excited and challenged by lwj’s skills and looks. he feels he’s found an equal! he enjoys finding someone who can reach his level, not the other way around. the fic that has him say ‘so what? there are like a crap ton of rich people in this world’ captured him so much better than this did. it makes lwj looks like an ooc tool and wwx ooc and shallow, and I hate to see the forcing of wwx into a feminine role and lwj into a masculine one gold stars: the reveal saved this work from being about two genuine pieces of shit - a sleazy, opportunistic rich douchebag who uses his wealth to pressure lonely guys at bars into sex, and a petulent tool who cheats on his affectionate yet busy husband with some hot rando while his husband is off saving lives as a surgeon. where the author manages to make the double identity work both before and after the reveal, it’s a genuine treat. see this section: Wei Ying whispers, “Husband,” raising his chin a bit higher. But you knew that. - THIS is a fun little wink to readers who know the reveal, while acting in service of the game and characterizing both wwx and ‘hc’

you can find an actually decent fic about attempted wx rp on my rec page (And all the ways we meet (and meet again) by Aerlalaith), in Part One, Section III. and it’s far more awkward, silly, in-character, and charming in its failures than this one is

Therapy is a Performative Act by cinder1013

I ran into this one and thought it looked intriguing. it was entertaining, but. it's bad. it's ooc and embarrassing and the author has some really weird blind spots. this is ripped from the post I made about it

summary: no plot or real narrative, just a selection of standup. this is fine, it’s just that for the most part the standup is quite bad and unfunny. jc calls wwx a q****r (the noun, not an adjective. not insultingly, but he’s presumably cishet in this work so 😬). he then gets in a zinger about how oblivious wwx is. he also makes lwj laugh because he’s just so funny I guess. the fic is full of images of outdated memes and images of real-life actor wzc. 

this author REALLY hates jfm. I get that he wasn’t great but it seems like some bias to pretend that he was worse than myu, who was emotionally and physically abusive to all her children. here he is homophobic while she is not. myu comes to jc’s comedy nights to support him and jfm stopped talking to him completely after coming to half of one, which as my mutual pointed out, is actually quite funny if you think about it like he disowned his cringefail son for being unfunny in public. jc calls myu a bitch in public FOR HIS ROUTINE which almost made me faint. like she would murder him if he did that in canon. actually murder him. jyl throws soup at jfm. for being homophobic. jc heroically stands up for a poor harassed barista, gets her phone number, and then gets married to her. myu hugs jc’s wife in public. jc is now expecting a child with his wife?? what universe is this where jc isn’t blacklisted by matchmakers and his mother is openly affectionate?

jc called wwx a ‘chaos gremlin’ like five times in part one. according to jc, wwx took all his halloween candy since it was his birthday which…okay I guess everyone’s ooc here. wwx dressed up as myu for halloween which is so ballsy I can’t believe myu didn’t actually murder him but in this setting it seems she’s cool with everything he does, she’s just….kind of mean? jc does an entire bit whining about how wwx only ever brought home cherry lollipops from the hospital, and not grape. this isn’t funny at all but ig it’s in character.

jc may be funny in the right circumstances, though I don’t think I could see him in such a vulnerable position as this and I think he would rather die than insult his mother in public in FRONT OF HER.

jc calls himself a peacock then has to clarify that his next bit about a peacock is referring to jzx and not himself, which seems like a convoluted and confusing way to write it. that bit is sooo long and boring oh my GOD. jc was exclusively referring to wwx as ‘the gremlin’ 😭 he keeps sidetracking his own story to tell off people he’s worried will photoshop him as a furry, which is really annoying. also jc tells the crowd ‘my kink is not your kink’ which implies he’s a proshipper in this one??? or something?? man I never trust that phrase

mainly this was a lot of secondhand embarrassment and muttering ‘oh they would not do that’ and ‘ough, that’s so ooc and annoying’

gold stars: the concept is inherently quite funny. also some of the heckling got a laugh out of me

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami                

summary: so I haven’t read this beyond the first few paragraphs, but my mutual gave me the details so I’m going to largely paraphrase from our discord convo about it

setup: wwx, decades postcanon, having lived a full and happy life with lwj, including children and grandchildren, sends himself back in time to redo his life from birth. he’s born with full sentience as an older man and complete memory of his past life. he does this because jc is unhappy

I dislike time travel fics in general, but especially so for wwx because while he has a lot of regrets, one of his greatest strengths as a person is to keep looking forward and find joy and home and family, whatever circumstances he’s in. imo it’s this powerful character trait of his that makes his first death so shocking and tragic, and a time-travel fix-it neatly misses this very important and thematically resonant aspect of about his character

there are fully 44 works in this popular series and I haven’t read any of them, so I’ll summarize my favorite points

-he never tells lwj about his past life

- jc apparently hasn’t done anything wrong and as soon as myu realizes wwx is going to marry out of the sect she becomes really chill. she also goes through all of wwx’s memories and then gives him and lwj sex advice based on it. treated as normal

- the lans are ‘cartoonishly evil’ and the author asserts that their forms are useless and should be discarded. I think the author had themself a little grudge

- wq married herself a feminist when she married jc because he let her keep her last name. just like every single other couple did in ancient china

- author got mad when they were corrected about cultural inaccuracies

- jzx kills jgs and nobody really cares despite patricide being the BIGGEST no-no

- ‘queerplatonic qingxicheng’ WHAT

- some random straight couples: wen ning/qin su, jgy/madam mo, lqr/madame jin. very strange

- some direct quotes: “the only ppl who knew the full truth about wwxs previous life where all the women is his life, which had some weird gender vibes (i think madam yu might have even had some internal monologue about how ~men cant handle the truth~).”

- “jcs whole misogynistic list of demands for his wife is waved away with oh its cause hes ace and is just describing his sister :)))”

in conclusion: the author sounds like a racist idiot who doesn’t understand the characters and is way too into the Divine Feminine, or wheel of time-style gender essentialism. the idea of wwx giving up a hard-earned life of family and happiness for jc’s sake AGAIN is genuinely one of the most insulting and depressing things you could do to him after he’s started to learn to move on from the pain of the past, set boundaries, accept love, and process his trauma in a supportive environment

if he were to ever find himself in this situation, he would definitely be more focused on jyl and the wens being, you know, ALIVE, than jc getting what he wants

gold stars: yeah, right

I think this one wins actually. not having read it, I can’t say for certain, but this definitely sounds worse than KILF, my personal least favorite of the list. being so long, it has more opportunities to be fucking awful. but maybe it had hidden gems I don’t know about too!

this is it for the anti-rec list…for now. I’ll continue browsing my history to see if I can find anything else as bad as this. feel free to send in YOUR most hated cql/mdzs fanfic and why, and I’ll take a look! happy reading!

Back to Start

[residentdormouse]

hi! this is a sign to talk about glen bateman. tell me about your headcanons, or explain your favorite scenes, or just gush about how great he is! whatever you have to say, i want to hear it. :)

Open Floor to talk about Glen?

Are you sure about that?

Eh, doesn’t matter. Too Late. No take backs; already off…

Going to have to do Headcanons. Favorite scene? All of them. Gushing? Would never end and would drift off into incoherent screeching. This is me controlling myself...

So going off of the 2020 version, because let’s face it, that’s the one that hooked me, (Goddamn it, Kinnear, I blame you…) Glen sees a future image of Fran in his dream. He doesn’t know who this is. It means nothing to him. Hell, Mother Abagail was just ‘some lady from a commercial’; no reason this woman would be any different. Figment of his imagination. His mind working around a (family) life he had opted out of long ago.

(Kids? Hard pass.)

But then Stu comes, and everything hits. Mother Abagail. Fran. Just what this means.

He is somehow doing impossible things. Things he would have discredited only a month prior. He wasn’t lying when he was giving his speech to Harold; he was (is) a man of science. He believed what could be seen. What could be proven. He married a physicist for fucks sake. “Hard science.” Maybe this stuff could exist, but he sure as shit wasn’t taking it on blind faith. Give him something, or get the hell out of here.

(And it’s dream prophesies with the steel chair…)

So now for things that aren’t explicitly stated. Headcanon.

In light of this revelation, Glen would be left to wonder what else could have been ‘more’. Mother Abagail was the “most vivid dream” he ever had, but Fran’s must have been pretty damn vivid to paint what he did. What else had he dreamt that had a deeper meaning? Places? Events? Maybe it was an image leading him to a paint spot that put him on the path to run into Stu? Or a trip out that would have brought Kojak to him? Potentially even before that…

I imagine he had quite a few nights on the road lost in thought over this. Because, that’s what Glen does, thinks. Comes up with theories.

It is very probable that he’s seen a few things he naturally passed up as coincidence. The world ending up like this, society causing its own downfall, that didn’t surprise him. Pretty sure, he knew something like this would happen. But was that from his studies of humanity, or because he already had vague notions in his head of this outcome.

(Both? I don't know...)

With no proof, a dream of destruction like this would have just been a nightmare. With knowledge now, it could have been preparation. Along those lines, did he know his wife would pass early? So much loss, did it subconsciously affect his decision about kids? About his future path? Maybe not, but maybe…

And its possible this wasn’t all just in the past either. In this version, Glen recommends sending Tom as a spy, because he thinks he could do it. But Glen’s interaction with Tom - limited, at best. I’m sure there’s moments that wouldn’t have been screen worthy, there’s been a fair passage of time here, but nominations were coming from groups in. Fran’s group had Dayna. Larry had Judge Farris. Tom was with Nick. Why was Glen the one to bring it up? I think he might have seen something that led him to feel more confident in this recommendation. I think he had a feeling, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Tom would make it out.

(Even though he desperately wanted somebody to say anybody else.)

I don’t know, this could be completely off base, but these are things I think about. Repeatedly. Because this damn character will not leave my mind. And hey, worse things to think about, am I right?

Glen Bateman > Real Life Bullshit.

Sign me up for the Glen show, all day every day.

[arkon-z]

Warning, this gets angry and frustrating:

I read the intro to Laziness Does Not Exist on a whim and I had to stop because it enraged me. Not because I disagree, but because i see myself in every part of it. I'm not overcomitted, but I have no energy at the end of the day. Well, that's not true - I have energy for my commitments, but not fun stuff like hobbies. And my job isn't even that hard! There's no stress to speak of and there hasn't been for months! Why the FUCK am I burning out? I didn't earn this! What did i do wrong? Where did I fail so badly in life that my no-stress job has led to me wishing I could take a leave of absence? "Oh no, the pressure of working from home at my own pace with no one around for three years has left me feeling like i'm drowning!" Why am I such a failure at life? Where did I fuck up so hard that this complete absences of stress has led to me getting stressed out?

For fuck's sake, I could barely stay awake back in May. I'm pretty sure I have/had depression. My short-term memory is spotty. AND WHY? Who the fuck knows? Is it autistic burnout? Fuck if I know, maybe? i tried to look into it and came up short. I asked for help and all I got were some breathing exercises. I asked if it was a good idea to take some time off and i was told, "If you think it will help." What the fuck kind of answer is that? They say be your own advocate, but I tried that and it didn't help.

I ask people, "What should I do?" and they just say, "What do you think you should do?"

I DON'T FUCKING KNOW, THAT'S WHY I'M ASKING.

Like, i'm not out here fishing for validation of an answer I already know, I need direction. I need answers. You wonder why I don't ask for help? This is why! Because I don't get it! "What do you think the next step is?" - that's not helpful!

Yes, I'm trying therapy, but they're playing off of my lead. And I'm directionless and unfocused, so guess how the sessions tend to go. I tried to solve my burnout and instead, I've suddenly got all this advice about how 'feelings are important' and 'listen to them instead of blocking them out.'

Okay, well, my feelings are saying that "I'm angry that I did everything right about my job and I'm still burned out. I'm angry at the fact that even when i go to ask for help, i still feel like i'm going it myself. i'm frustrated that I get so far in my own research about a problem that I know more about it than the person I'm asking for help. I'm so fucking tired of having to take care of all my problems by myself. I just want someone to take care of me for a change."

Look, the main reason I hold my feelings back is because a lot of the time, the feelings mean I start crying. And i hate crying, because it means I get a headache. It might be a hormone spike - it's that time in the month - but it might be real. Plus, I don't want to be annoying.

When I ask for help, I want actual help. Not advice about 'feelings' and listening to them. Yes, I know that's the point of therapy, but I came here to solve a specific problem. Yes, unpacking whatever the hell I've got going on under the surface is important or whatever, but that's not why I'm here. We can work on that when I feel like my problem is being addressed. the problem being - how do i cure my burnout? Give me a goal, a number, something to quantify. Take my request seriously. You want to know how it's going so far?

"Hey, I think I have autistic burnout, what should I do?"

"How do you know you have burnout?"

"I have these symptoms."

"I see. Does that study have some recommendations?"

"Yes, right here. These things have worked for people in the past."

"Good, maybe you should try those."

And this is where I get tripped up.

"No, I came here to ask you for help with this."

"It looks to me like you have what you need."

"This is a health concern. I am here for your advice because you are a health professional. Based on your experience in combination with the info I am giving you on this matter, how should I proceed?"

And then they never give me a satisfying answer. I just wanted a number or some kind of progression plan, but they just kept asking, "Well, what do you think you should do?"

I'm taking a break from that therapist for now. I don't think they knew me well enough to understand what I was asking. My other therapist does, though, and I'm pretty sure the baseline of it all boils down to learning how to accept that I'm worthy of getting help even if I didn't feel like I 'earned' the burnout I apparently have.

[silkscream]

wipe your blood off the concrete

pairing: peter parker x reader

synopsis: you are peter’s best friend in the whole world. the two of you can barely hold back your feelings for each other after peter is beaten badly after a night on patrol. he takes you by surprise when he insists the two of you go to a party afterwards and things get very confusing.

warnings: smut (18+ only), mentions of blood, mentions of mental illness/anxiety/panic attacks, alcohol use, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, protected sex

genres: best friends to lovers, uni!peter, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, fluff and angst and smut all in one

wc: 8k+

a/n: GOD this is a big bertha. i was listening i think you’re alright by jay som and then my brain spiraled entirely into... this. i recommend you listen to this song while you read. i could probably make a playlist based on this fic but i don’t want to self-indulge more than i already have. i’m a sucker for bffs to lovers, obviously. i’m also very wine drunk. do what this info what you will.

when i wake up in the morning

i’ll make you some coffee

we’ll lay about and let the day pass

College had taken a toll on Peter. He was an anxious boy, you knew this already. What you hadn’t seen in your years of knowing him was how hollow he could be, how he wouldn’t want to get up in the morning, how tight-lipped he could be in conversations when normally he’s always beaming. He doesn’t sleep at your place that much anymore because he hates to be a burden, even though you swear on your heart that you don’t mind helping him through his nightmares.

It often goes like this:

There are nights where Peter does unforgivable things. He watches Tony Stark die, he watches Aunt May look upon him in tears, he reaches out for your hand but you’re falling ten stories below him. It’s these nights where he shakes himself awake, suffocated by his own panicked breaths, but you’re usually right there to soothe him with hushed nothings in his ear. It’s an unspoken arrangement between the two of you that you don’t dare to discuss by morning. Besides, you’d had a few panic attacks of your own as you grew into your girlish flesh-suit, knobby limbs and scraped knees. Peter always liked you for how alive you always looked, even if you felt awkward roaming the earth in a body you were taught to dislike. You’re headstrong in your beliefs, however, and at your current age you’d been through enough bullshit to not fixate on the little problems you faced as a teenager. Peter considers you his rock, his other half. He often thinks it’s you who ought to bear the weight of a superhero. You’d do a better job than him, maybe.

It’s 10 am on a Friday and Peter is doing an awfully good job at zoning out the sound of you knocking on his door.

“Pierre,” you whine, holding a bag of donuts and a tray of coffees. “Let me in you son of a bitch.”

The lock on the door slides open. You’re met with a sleepy Peter, who’s traded his gangly figure to impressive biceps over the past five years. You try not to stare at how good his arms look in his fitted Led Zeppelin tee. You chuckle at the fact that he’s still wearing his boxers. Spiderman-patterned boxers, nonetheless. He groans. “Fuck, sorry. Real out of it today.”

“Oat milk, no sugar,” you smile at him, holding out your tray. You can see dark circles around his eyes. He must’ve been up late doing schoolwork or more technological advancements to his suit.

“You’re a godsend,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead as he takes the paper cup.

“Whatcha been up to?”

“Physics,” he yawns. “Waiting for you.”

“Peter, did you sleep at all last night?” you pester, poking his under-eye circles.

He shoots you a look of slight annoyance and shrugs.

You roll your eyes, gracelessly hopping onto his couch. Without a word, he topples onto you, settling his head on your lap as he flips through the front page of Netflix. You stroke your fingers through his curls. “You finish your work?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Peter gripes.

“Is the Peter Parker slacking on his schoolwork?”

He grumbles and buries his face closer into your body, which makes your stomach flutter. “I finished everything, swear. Could probably spew out formulas in my sleep.”

“Get Tony to build you another EDITH but in reading glasses form. I’ll tap the answers to you. Or the formulas could probably just float across the lenses.” You steal the remote from him, much to his dismay and futile attempts to block you, and settle on a random episode of New Girl.

“Wow. We need more women in STEM like you.” You playfully smack the side of his face and it makes his nose scrunch up. Your fingers trace the freckles on his nose that aren’t very visible unless it’s the summer time, but you’re able to see them just from how close you are. The trance is broken at the vibration of your phone in your pocket, much to your relief.

He notices immediately how you chuckle at your screen, a smile lighting up your features. “Who’s that?”

“Um, Tinder message.”

“Can I see?” Peter asks, lifting his body to glance at your phone, though you swat him away. “Y/N, c’mon, I wanna see what goons are hitting on my best friend.”

“I don’t need your approval, Parker,” you giggle, holding your phone above your head. He intercepts it anyways, nearly falling into your lap and grabbing the phone. He blocks your squirming frame by laying his body on top of your sprawled out legs while his broad shoulders block your view.

“Tyler, 22, born and raised in Manhattan. Oh, please, business major? At NYU?” He swipes through the man’s pictures and squints. “‘You’ll probably see me hanging out with the dog at the party.’ Huh, how quirky and relatable of him.”

“Peter, give me my phone!” you half-laugh half-shriek, breathless from the fact that Peter’s weight is holding you down and preventing you from moving at all.

“Is he even your type? Seems like a dick honestly. You’re waaaay out of his league,” Peter muses mindlessly.

“And what exactly is my type, Parker?” Peter looks at you and opens his mouth, though nothing comes out. You smirk at him, able to flip him off of the couch and onto his carpet, snatching your phone from his hand as you sit on his chest. The two of you half-heartedly wrestle until you’re pinning him to the ground. “Tap out, motherfucker!”

“Ugh,” Peter huffs, sitting up slightly. “I’m serious, he looks like the president of a frat that’s on probation for some Title IX violations.”

“You’re an asshole,” you croon, shaking your head. “Let me get laid.”

Neither of you ever liked to address the pang of jealousy that came with seeing your best friend get attention from the opposite sex (okay, there were some girls enamored with you during your first semester of college, but you were too in your shell to actually follow through with anything). Secretly, Peter’s heart is dripping down to his shoes, but only slightly, of course. He’s laughing and teasing you the whole time, poking you in the ribs as you finally let him swipe through your Tinder. He sneaks a peek at your own profile, too, admiring how big and bright your eyes are in each photo — mostly which are photos he’s taken.

You’ve been on a few dates, give or take, but the end of the night is almost always instantly uncomfortable once things get physical. Peter Parker is like the devil on your shoulder, the New Moon-era Edward apparition to your Bella. You’ve been getting better at accepting that it’s him and always will be him. Even if you never have the guts to tell him.

___

i’ll wipe your blood off the concrete

take you to the party

we’ll drink until our brains black out

It’s past 8 pm when your texts to Peter quadruple. He’s usually very prompt and mindful in texting you back, especially when the two of you have plans to get Chinese takeout. The clock turns to ten when he finally answers.

peter: fuck

peter: can you cpme get m

peter: please

The bastard.

You swallow down your disappointment once you unlock your phone and the pit in your stomach is replaced with panic. Immediately, you tug on your shoes and grab your car keys.

___

“Peter!” you screech, seeing your battered friend on the concrete a few feet away from you. He’s struggling to breathe so he takes his mask off, exhaling heavily as he spits out a mixture of saliva and blood onto the pavement. Your eyes widen at the state of him — a bruise under his eye the shape of a crescent moon, a cut lip that’s still bleeding.

“Come here.” He’s able to get up, just barely, but he’s able to use you as a crutch as you usher him into your car. Luckily, this was a quiet neighborhood and your car was shielded by the dark alley. You wince at the sound of his groans in the backseat.

By the time you get to your apartment, his suit is completely off. You don’t expect to glance over to your backseat to see your best friend half-naked, though it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. It just makes something ache inside of you when you realize the damage of his wounds.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“It’s okay! Just some attempted assault on some woman. It’s okay, NYPD came just in time.”

“Fuck NYPD,” you mutter under your breath. “I’m serious, Peter.”

“Shit,” Peter groans, clutching his side. The thought that enters your mind when you hear him is ungodly. “Fumbled the web-shooters so they were able to get the upper hand. Not to mention one of their buddies fucking… hit me with their car.”

“Jesus, Peter!” you exclaim. You can’t really berate him for getting hurt, though situations like this have you worried sick. You pull into your driveway and get out of the car to assist him.

“‘m sorry, y/n,” Peter huffs, grabbing your hand to support himself as he gets out of the car.

“Don’t apologize. This isn’t the first time you scared the shit out of me. I’m just glad you’re not dead.”

Peter darkly chuckles. Under the streetlight, his eyes look a bit amber, and the gaze he fixes on you isn’t something you can really fathom. It’s a look of tenderness. Your eyes dart to the other side of the street and back at him. “Stop staring, creep. Mrs. Wilkins will threaten to call my landlord if she sees me parading around a dude in his boxers at the dead of night.”

Peter shakes his head at you, laughing, but follows you into your home nonetheless. He follows you around like a stray cat as you rummage your bathroom for the first-aid kit. The glow of your bathroom light shows off your cheekbones, and he knows he can’t hide his affinity for you especially when you’re like this, tongue in your cheek focusing on the materials you have. He sits on the edge of your bathtub and watches you.

“Hydrogen peroxide, Neosporin, gauze…” you muse to yourself. Picking up the dark red bottle, you wiggle it towards him. “This is gonna sting.”

Pouring a bit onto a cotton round, you wipe it across his wounds gently. Peter braces himself but the stinging you warned him about is much worse than what he’s actually prepared for. “Fuck!” he cries out, his jaw clenching. He nearly hits you by accident but misses. He manages to stay still by holding your shoulder with his large hand, squeezing and cursing expletives. Your breath hitches at his strong grip. You could probably hear his heartbeat if he wasn’t breathing so hard. Your faces are inches apart as you rub his cheek, sliding a thumb down to his split lip.

“Um, here,” you stammer awkwardly, spreading Neosporin on his cheek and bandaging him up. You wrap gauze around his wrist and around his left knuckle which blooms red and purple hues. “Hmm. Boxer vibes.”

“I’m already healing,” he shrugs, looking down at the budding bruise on his chest. It’ss entering its stage of pale green already, which still freaks you out despite the fact you’d known about Spiderman for years. “Y’didn’t have to do all that. Thank you, though.”

“Anything for you,” comes out of your mouth without thinking. You try to stay casual with a tight smile but Peter’s eyes seem to flicker the slightest bit at your statement. You turn your heels to your bedroom to dig out some spare clothes of Peter’s that he tends to accidentally leave after he stays over. The habit has turned into him having his own drawer at your place. How domestic.

“You still going to that party?” Peter asks as he pulls on a pair of pants. Your back is turned, which is amusing for him considering how close you are. There was quite literally a picture of the two of you naked at the age of five on May’s mantle downstairs. However, he couldn’t help but notice how your eyes would mindlessly wander to his arms and stomach when he would talk to you lately. Maybe it was a fluke, but he liked — loved — holding your attention.

“What party?”

“The one at that senior’s house? I heard you talking about it with MJ.”

“Um, maybe, but I was too busy worrying about you, and I was under the impression that we were spending the night eating Chinese and watching horror movies. Why?”

“We should go.” You turn around and raise an eyebrow. Peter Parker liked socializing, you could say. He was enigmatic and adorable and easy to be around, but you know that he’d rather stay at home with his documentaries or Star Wars movies than getting shitfaced at a rando’s house.

“Peter, you just got the shit kicked out of you,” you mutter in disbelief.

“All the more reason,” he shrugs, walking past you to flop onto your bed. “You worry about me too much. Gotta let loose, babe.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. You always imagine yourself as a shadow compared to Peter, like a friendly apparition. Casper the ghost. It’s not that you’re an outcast — hell, Peter goes on and on about you to classmates and friends alike if they haven’t met you yet. You’ve never been friendless. But the thought of going to a party with Peter makes your stomach churn a bit. The few times you had, the two of you would be attached to the hip because of your shared shyness, but Peter’s evolved into someone who probably knew more people at university than you did. You didn’t want to be left alone. Slight anxiety settles over you. You look at him and his smile is pushing daisies up from the earth. You sigh. When you had said “anything for you”, you truly meant it.

___

You didn’t dislike parties, but any house party in the suburbs of New York felt like the setting of a bad rom-com, not to mention the good amount of losers you could attract by accidentally blinking their way.

“You look really pretty,” Peter whispers into your ear assuringly. You feel validated, yes, but also you’d be lying the feeling of Peter’s breath under your earlobe didn’t make your organs flip around in your body like primordial soup.

You frown at a mirror in the foyer. You had opted for a green printed mesh top that hugged your features, black jeans, and Peter’s old denim jacket. Peter follows your gaze and snakes a finger to your hair, twirling around a strand. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“AYYYY, PENIS PARKER!” roars from behind a couple making out. Lo and behold, Flash Thompson is suddenly in front of you, nestling a Corona in one hand and waving furiously at you both with another. He’s gotten taller somehow since the last time you saw him, which was quite literally graduation. You roll your eyes at his arrogance. To your surprise, Peter knocks fists with the kid and gives him a half-hearted side hug. “Oh shit, dude, what the fuck happened to your face?”

“This one right here gets a little too rowdy when she loses Monopoly,” Peter smiles, hanging an arm over your shoulders.

“Shut up,” you whisper, voice laced with venom as you shoot Peter a glare. “He’s lying. This one is just… incredible clumsy.”

“Jeez, she bite too? Hey, I know a guy who’s really into that kind of thing.”

“Okay, relax, Flash-your-tits,” you sneer.

“Wow, still the wicked witch of Forest Hills,” Flash retorts. His eyes scan you up and down, then to Peter’s arm around you. “Didn’t know you guys were a thing. When’d that happen?”

“We’re not—“ stumbles out of both your mouths in unison. Your face heats up immediately, though Peter is merely holding back a laugh.

“Right. Save your virginities, fellow comrades! It’s a scary world out there. ’s some liquor in the kitchen,” Flash slurs, immediately making eye contact with another poor soul who’s about to be subjected to a similar greeting.

“Freak,” you mutter under your breath as you saunter past a rowdy beer pong table. Without bothering to rummage through the stash that’s sat on the kitchen counter, you take the first bottle of cabernet sauvignon you see. Peter grabs a shot glass and pours himself some Tito’s.

He meets your eyes. “What?” he shrugs, knocking back the shot with a scrunched up face.

“Nothing, you just like, never drink,” you smirk. You decide to keep the wine for yourself — it was the cheap kind, anyway. You down a good amount so that you can get a little warmth into your stomach. The effect is slightly numbing.

“Yeah, but my metabolism’s all weird since the bite, remember? Surprised I haven’t tried to drink more. I think I’ve only been drunk like… once or twice?”

“Better go easy, there, Parker,” you tease, jabbing him in the ribs. He grunts just a bit and you gasp. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, ‘m only a little sore. I could still take you in a fight,” Peter snickers. He grabs a red solo cup and fills it with more Tito’s, not paying attention to the amount he pours in, and then fills it to the brim with some orange juice. You practically gag at the sight. Vodka was never your forté and you were sure that it wasn’t much of Peter’s thing either. And yet, here he is. You wonder about his out of character desire to come to the party but ultimately shrug it off.

___

Seeing it feels like a kick in the throat, your face flushing hot like molten lava, chest creaking like a wooden floor in a haunted house. You didn’t expect to get everything you wanted, did you? Of course not. So it shouldn’t hurt that much to walk outside in need of that crisp autumn air and accidentally be met with some blonde eating off the face of your best friend. The love of your life. You don’t remember what time it is. You actually don’t even remember that you had been looking for Peter at all, but the realization hits you in the face once you recognize his brunette little head getting his hair pulled by some Walmart-brand Blake Lively.

and god you’re so pretty

your smile’s unforgiving

i’ll place it where nobody can find

You’re in too much shock to even beckon to him, but you know that the gears in your brain are turning with bells and whistles shrieking abort, abort, abort, abort! Before you can so as much turn around, Peter pulls away from the girl and yells for you. His face is carnation-pink, lips reddish from the girl’s lipstick. He’s waving at you like a little kid but your head feels like it’s underwater.

“Hey! Y/N! Been looking all over for you!”

Embarrassed, you wave back meekly before sliding back into the house. You hear hushed whispers of “shit, was that your fucking girlfriend?”, maybe a mild slap, Peter mumbling the words “best friend” and “not dating” and “what was your name again?” You could laugh if you didn’t feel like a literal hole was burning into your chest like the end of a cigarette charring flesh.

Calm, calm, calm. We are calm.

You don’t even know what to do with yourself, really. Your mantra isn’t helping and if you take one more sip of your wine you might as well throw up. Your eyes flash in surprise at MJ walking towards you, smiling but then settling her face into a confused frown.

“Hey, Y/N, is everything alr—“ MJ attempted to intervene, but you smile and nod your head maniacally as you pace through the house past her.

“I’m great! Fine. Um, I gotta go…”

You and MJ aren’t as close as you were in high school, but she knows well enough what you’re like when you’re in a state of crisis. She calls your name but you’ve dashed out of her grasp. She stares after you, puzzled, right before Peter nearly knocks into her, a collision of whiplash. The poor brunette stares wildly at the boy.

“Jesus, Parker, are you good?”

“MJ! Hi!” Peter exhales. His eyes are the size of flying saucers. He grips MJ’s shoulders and doesn’t realize the volume of his voice, which makes spectators around them look on curiously. “Listen, have you seen Y/N? I gotta talk to her.”

“Um, yeah, she went that way… dude, are you drunk?”

“No! Yes? All of the above,” he replies hurriedly, moving into the foyer and up the stairs.

You can’t really explain your emotions, process them even, so you do give into the wine bottle. Might as well detonate the bomb. Before Peter can call after you, you escape his field of vision in the hallway and immediately slip into the upstairs bathroom without him seeing you.

You stare at your reflection. There’s no point in crying, you think. Peter’s too good at prying and you’re too bad at explaining. It’s best not to worry him. Isn’t it? You want to believe you’re capable of staying sane with your little crush. Your stupid unrequited crush. You realize you’d have to reach into your guts and rip out all that you feel for Peter in order to get over it. It was best to drown out all those feelings now until you passed out. Maybe Michelle could take you home. Or a kind stranger could seduce you. Or you ‘accidentally’ fall out of the window and escape Peter’s questioning by being in a literal coma for a few days so you can forget the image of him kissing that girl that’s burned into your brain.

You frown at your reflection. You look pretty, Peter was right. It’s a miracle your makeup is still intact. Your under-eye liner is smudged a bit but the glitter on your cheekbones reflects even with this shitty bathroom lighting. With the alcohol inside you, everything seems to melt, like the walls are sweating and closing in on you. Before you’re able to control your breathing, the sound of your name reaches your ears like a harsh wind. It’s coming from your favorite voice in the whole world. Pounding on the door ensues.

“Hey! Y/N?”

“It’s… it’s occupied, sorry,” you caution in a high voice.

“Y/N, I know that’s you in there! Can you please let me in?” Peter begs. More raps on the door. You stay silent, staring at the sink.

“Please, Y/N, something bad’s happened… MJ’s…um…” Peter yells. You furrow your brows in worry. God, I can’t get a break. What a cursed fucking party.

Profanities are mumbled to yourself as you finally open the door. Peter rushes in and backs you into the wall, shutting the door promptly behind him and locking it. You gasp at how quickly he manages this without the two of you colliding, his swift movement and your intoxicated state dizzies you. Peter settles his palms on the wall, trapping you in between his arms.

“What happened to Michelle?” you glower. Peter sighs with a look of defeat and avoids your gaze.

“Nothing. Just needed you to let me in.”

“You asshole,” you roll your eyes and vociferate. Your teeth are gritted — you can’t bear to look at his face, but you do. Peter’s puppy dog brown eyes are boring into yours with desperation behind them. He takes his palm from the left of you and tilts your chin up, to which you shake your head in rejection.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” So you do. Your faces are inches away from each other. You can feel his hot breath in your face. It makes your body feel even hotter.

“What do you want, Peter?” you whisper.

“Want to talk to you,” he slurs.

“Okay, so talk.”

“Why were you running away from me?”

You scoff. You almost want to tell him the truth, but you can’t. “I’m in a bad mood,” you mumble. “I don’t need this right now, okay? I want to be alone. Why don’t you go back to that blonde? She seems to like you an awful lot.”

“Who— what? Are you… are you jealous?”

“Who you take home is none of my business, Parker, I swear on my heart. I’m a big girl, I can get an Uber by myself. Don’t worry about it,” you spit back at him. “Okay? Can I be left alone, please?”

“But I wanna be alone with you,” he confesses, absentmindedly twisting your hair between his fingers again. You didn’t think anything of it until now because this is something he always does. It’s as easy to him as breathing or blinking. But at the moment, he’s staring at your collarbone and your neck and the side of your jaw. You make eye contact with him and you gulp. Lipstick is smeared from the corner of his mouth like a streak of wine on a white sheet. The space between you feels like television static, like a red string you’re dying to pull into a knot to close the distance.

Instead, Peter does it for you. You blink once and his mouth is on yours, and you taste the other girl’s lipstick and mandarin oranges and a hint of copper from his bloody lip. You breathe in the smell of your own shampoo, which Peter keeps in his apartment for you even though he secretly uses it when you’re not around. His hand is gripped to your jaw, tongue peeking into your mouth as he pushes into your body. The hurt inside you crawls out of your throat and spreads your body like a blessing instead — a baptism, a rebirth.

His hands are to your sides now, pushing the mesh fabric of your shirt up so he can palm the skin of your upper hip. You sigh into him as he massages the skin lightly and he responds to your sounds with a subtle moan. You feel like your knees are buckling to his touch as your heat gets wetter and wetter.

“Touch me, Y/N,” Peter whispers in between your kisses. A whine emits from the back of his throat when you tug on his hair just slightly.

You pull away suddenly, though Peter doesn’t see this as a halt. He simply peppers wet kisses to your earlobe and down your neck. You sigh deeply and give him a slight push to the chest.

“What, what’s wrong?” he whispers. He’s drunk on you, maybe literally considering he lost count of how many shots he’d taken. He looks like an angel like this, brown hair mussed up with smoothed out curls falling over his face and a just-bitten pair of pink lips.

You touch the band-aid on his face. “You’re drunk, Peter.”

“Yeah? I know. So are you.”

“That’s the problem. I don’t want you to regret anything,” you mumble, biting the inside of your bottom lip.

“I couldn’t… I won’t. You know how much I love you, right?” Peter pleads. He’s breathless at the sight of you. You look away.

“Don’t say shit like that, Peter. You’d… you’d never say that sober.” Hurt flashes over Peter’s face as he listens to your words. He wants you to believe him so badly and he’s too drunk to process what you could be feeling. All he feels is that he wants to be absorbed into you at this very moment. His brain doesn’t even register the actions that made you upset in the first place.

“That’s not true, Y/N, you know that,” he urges. His thumb swipes over your inner eye, where a salty tear has fallen. His voice is hoarse, raspy, raw. “I only want you.”

You close your eyes and shake your head, tears flooding your cheeks that he tries to kiss away gently. “Why are you doing this?” you croak.

“What am I doing, baby?” he whispers, taking you in his arms and cradling you. Your cheek is against his warm chest and you can feel his beating heart. It ticks like a clock, which somehow comforts you in the most minuscule way. His tender knuckles are in your hair, combing your locks softly. Peter wants to find every jagged piece of you so that he can soothe it like nighttime tea and a spoonful of honey. Would you hate him for it?

“This is fucked up, Peter.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” is whispered through hushed breaths against your hair. You pull back after a few minutes, embarrassed at how red your eyes must look. He cups his hands on your cheeks, tilting your face to look up at him. “I’m not lying to you. I… I love you so much that it scares me sometimes because you’re my best friend. I always get scared that I’m gonna lose you. And… and I don’t even know that girl. The one I was making out with. I think I just needed a distraction from you.”

An awkward beat.

“I don’t know why I got so drunk. I think because patrol was so fucked up and I’ve been having more nightmares, and I was scared that if I told you I loved you tonight that I’d fuck everything up, and I wouldn’t remember, and I couldn’t find you anywhere…”

You shush his rambles with your lips against his.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, wiping your eyes. “Always have. It scares me too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you idiot, I thought it was obvious. You scare the shit out of me sometimes.” The two of you laugh darkly at your mutual drunken states. Your mutual confessions, the fear of your mutually assured destructions. The moment was making your heart swell up like a balloon.

A rude awakening breaks through with a pounding on the door. “HEY, ARE YOU GUYS DONE FUCKING? SOME OF US HAVE TO PISS.”

The two of you are broken out of your spell. You both erupt into laughter. You wipe your face with your sleeve as you open the door. Your toothy smile flashes the unfortunate spectator when you open the door.

Flash stands there with a look on his face that is both bewildered and dopey. His eyes flit between you and Peter, mouth agape.

“All yours, babe,” you taunt, holding Peter’s hand as he follows you across the hall.

___

i’ll be your old broken tv

your stuttering baby

your puppy when nobody’s home

He can barely take his hands off you once you get the door of your apartment unlocked. Immediately, his hands are all over you, pushing up your top to reveal your stomach. He kisses you roughly which has your head spinning.

“Peter… I—“ you giggle in-between kisses. He can’t detach himself from you. He doesn’t want to. He takes matters into his own hands and rips your jacket off for you, picking you up effortlessly so that your legs are around his waist until both of your bodies collapse into your bed.

You feel like you have motion sickness. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the uneasiness of letting yourself fall blind to Peter’s desires. He knows how stubborn you are about literally everything and he doesn’t know how to fully convince you how much he wants you. He’s hovering over your body, forehead to forehead, pawing at your clothed body. “You’re so pretty,” he says, thumbing your cheek.

His eyes are glistening like the earth wet from being kissed by autumn rain. You swear to yourself it’s just lust but you know this is exactly how he looks at you when you’re just there. Existing. In his room, on his lap, on his fire escape in the middle of the night. You’ve always noticed but decided you’ve made it up in your head. But he really does love you like this, vulnerable and soft like a cherub out of heaven. He could certainly get used to the sight of you underneath him. His mouth turns up into a grin.

“What’s got you so happy?” you coo.

“You,” he breathes, dipping his head back down to meet your mouth.

“Cool,” you mumble in between your kisses, sighing as you feel Peter massage little circles underneath the hem of your shirt. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Mmm, lots,” Peter sighs. “There’s this girl… thought she’d never… like me back. But I think she does.”

“Tell me about her.”

“Well, she’s a hard one to chase down, y’know? She’s too pretty and smart for literally anyone. And she’s really good at playing with my hair, and knowing everything I like, and beating me at wrestling. And she smells like flowers. And looks like flowers.”

“Hmm, sounds like a catch,” you flash him a candy-sweet smile. The glow between you two is bioluminescent. Every part of you that Peter touches feels like electricity.

“Mhm. That you are,” Peter nods. He’s feeling feverish, sobering up from his many shots but still drunk on the sight of you. In the past few months, Peter feels like he’s only present between peripherals and the only time he’s even remotely tuned in to the world is when you’re beside him. His mind is swamped with only you and your kiss tastes like honey dripping into his mouth.

A low hum reverberates from your throat as you feel Peter’s lips on your neck. He settles back to your lips like he’s diving underwater. He doesn’t care about coming back up for air. Your brows knit in concentration as you try to pull him closer, despite the fact he’s basically falling through you like fog. Your brain is begging him to devour you, burn you, lick up all the hurt inside your chest from the night.

“Can I touch you, please?” Peter asks carefully, his voice low, brain spell-bound.

You nod fervently, heart beating out of your chest when you’re suddenly aware of how hard he is. Peter helps you slip out of your shirt and your jeans, leaving you in your underwear. He can barely breathe. He chuckles like he’s seeing something that shouldn’t be possible.

“Don’t laugh when you just stripped me naked, freak,” you chastise, covering yourself up with your arms.

“‘m not teasing you. I’m… I just can’t believe it. How pretty you are.”

“Shut up and touch me, Parker.” Peter feigns a look of seriousness before attaching his lips to your bare stomach. He loves the way your body reacts to his touch, breaths rising and falling to the pitter-patter of his heartbeat and his fluttered eyelashes. He teases you with kisses close to your center and descending down your thighs. You whine at how sensitive you feel, coaxing his head forward with your hands.

“Okay, needy,” he taunts, which makes you whine in response. He slides your underwear down your legs and doesn’t hesitate to lap you up at your clit. You gasp in response. He’s ravenous in the way he works, responding to all your little sounds by gripping your thighs harder until you’re nearly bruising. Your mouth gapes open wider when he slides in one finger, then two into your pussy, your wetness making his entrance easy.

“Jesus, fuck, where did you learn that?” you ask breathlessly as he pumps his fingers in and out of you in all the right places.

“Secret,” he murmurs, pausing his sucking to curl his fingers into your walls in a way that makes your insides flip. You immediately feel a pressure inside your core that slowly rises like a rollercoaster rolling upwards on a track. He brings his tongue back to your bud and scissors his fingers in a way that makes your hips buck upwards, which makes him lose his balance a bit. He chuckles, adoring the sound of your moans and the way your long eyelashes blink rapidly like a butterfly’s wings.

“Say my name,” he groans, desperate to hear your voice.

“Fuck,” you moan. “Fuck— Peter, just like that. Oh my God, Peter!”

He decides right then that his name sounds like it was made for your mouth, how it sounds like a hymn, a magic spell, a word invented by you, his creator. You grab fistfuls of his chestnut curls as you feel your body plunge into saccharine warmth. You surprise yourself with your restrained moans; you don’t recognize the sound of your voice. Peter’s moans echo yours as he watches you come undone. His lips part at the way you come, gazing at the way your body flexes like a viscous liquid with your hair fanning the sides of your face like Juliet on a bed of roses.

“Peter!” you strain, breathing heavily on the comedown. You blink at him, bleary-eyed, tasting yourself on his tongue once he reaches up to kiss you again. “Take your clothes off. ’s not fair that I’m fully naked and you aren’t.”

“Anything for you,” he says, echoing your words from earlier that night. You think that maybe you’re melting or you’ve been struck by lightning. Peter blesses you for your request because his cock is quite literally straining against his jeans. He can’t believe you’re real — that this version of you is real and right in front of him, instead of being a dizzying made-up thought in his brain. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t fantasize about what your pussy feels like, how you’d sound with your toes curling into the mattress as he fucks into you. He’d always shake the thought of you after he comes when he’s alone, embarrassed after his orgasms when he’d come back to reality. But now he doesn’t have to. You’re fulfilling his dreams at this very moment.

Not even thirty seconds pass before he’s stripped just like you. Your mouth waters at the sight of him. You’re convinced he must be carved from Ancient Rome, porcelain skin and smooth edges. His size is certainly unexpected and you’re shy about how your eyes are probably bugging out of their sockets.

“Do you… do you want me to get a condom?” he asks you, voice cracking slightly. You’re reminded of how boyish he really is, how despite everything, he’s always been your Peter. Your puppy, your best boy. You nod at him and grin. “Right… ah— where are they?”

“Under the bed, blue shoebox.”

He comes back from under the bed and rips the silver foil. He toys with it for a second, awkwardly. “Ah, this is… a good brand. Very safe.”

“Yeah, good reviews?” you gush at his awkwardness.

“Like I’d know,” Peter blushes and shrugs. You know that Peter’s not a virgin but he’d never been the type to be cocky or promiscuous. It was you in senior year of high school who broke down where a woman’s clitoris was, after all. You playfully hit him, urging him to continue. He nods sheepishly.

“Wait, do you want me to… do you want head, too?” you ask curiously.

He shakes his head, sliding the condom onto his length. “No, ‘m okay. Just want to be inside you really bad.”

You kiss him hard, and to his surprise, you push him onto his back. His eyes widen at your shift in attitude and newfound dominance. His taut mouth widens when you push down onto him, going up and down at an agonizingly slow pace as you grip his shoulders. “Oh, fuck.”

You respond graciously with a breathy sigh, eyes closed as you grind against him. “Fuck, that feels really good,” he whispers. “Gonna be the death of me.”

“That’s why they call it la petite mort, yeah?” you smirk. You start to grind faster and Peter’s eyes screw shut, mouth slack in a blissful fashion. He grips your hips harder and gives your ass a light smack as he groans.

“Ass man, aren’t you?” you tease. “Figured you were more into tits.”

“Can’t talk, feels too good,” Peter mumbles. He palms your breast with one hand in response to you, which makes you giggle. “Please don’t tease me at a vulnerable time like this.”

Your laughter is like music to his ears. He looks at you with a dark expression on his face, a sort of pained desperation that secretly begs you to wreck him. He wishes he could tell you that you could have him in any way possible, but he figures that the enormity of his desire would scare you away. Peter caresses your cheek and your head lulls backward at the elation of him inside you. Teasing a finger on your bottom lip, you take his finger into your mouth and you suck on it gently. He feels like he’s about to lose it. It’s a miracle he’s even lasting this long, he thinks to himself. He swore he almost came when he was just giving you head.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Peter breathes. The aura of you is everywhere in the room, the smell of your skin permeating his senses. He can’t get enough. You’re surprised by how vocal he is and it kind of makes you feel a bit cocky. His lips are slick and swollen from your love bites and you can’t help but admire how he looks underneath, curls loose over his warm forehead.

“Fuck, hold on. Can I do something?” he asks, his eyes doe-like. You nod quickly. “Can, um, can you get on your stomach?”

You oblige to his request, getting off from his lap and sinking into the bed, ass up. You nearly choke when he fills you up from behind, his hands cradling your hips. He’s slow with his thrusts at first, wanting to be careful to both control himself and to make sure he doesn’t hurt you. He reaches you at a deep angle and you nearly scream out, which encourages Peter to rock his hips a bit faster.

“Oh my god, Peter!”

Your head twists slightly so you can see his face. He reaches over immediately to kiss you, holding you by the chin forcefully as he pulls your hips towards him. His hand stays wrapped around your throat as he bends over to pepper kisses to your neck and down your back. A finger rests on your bottom lip that you take into your mouth. He moans at the feeling of it.

“Fuck, you’re gonna… make me come soon…” you breathe. You whine as he pulls your hair slightly to get better access to the side of your neck.

“Fuck, I fucking love you,” Peter pants. His breath is hot beneath your ear and it makes you shiver. His hushed curses are like little love notes spilling onto your shoulder. “My favorite girl.”

Your face falls into your bedsheets once he hits your sweet spot repeatedly. Your whole body vibrates at the feeling of it as you grip your sheets hard enough to strain your knuckles. Tears are pricking from the corners of your eyes on impact. Your orgasm is white-hot, blinding, paradisiacal.

“Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?” Peter whispers worriedly, slowing down his strokes and wiping your face gently.

“Yes,” you moan, shutting him up with a kiss. He pulls out of you and melts into your lips, the wave of your orgasm and the tenderness in your chest igniting a small fire in the pit of your stomach. The two of you are side by side now, limbs entangling one another in a blob of lust and warm bodies and languished breaths. He’s confused at your husky laughter but stays attached to your mouth, tasting you in all your sugared glory. The taste of blood pools into your mouth again and you pull back slightly. You lick his bottom lip carefully, lacing his mouth with your sweetness.

You smile devilishly at the red marks on his neck, marks that you left. He rubs his neck and it’s like he’s blushing all over, because he knows that although he’ll complain about the hickies in the morning, he feels blessed to have any remnants of you on his body. A burn, a bruise, a red stamp on his forehead with your name on it. He doesn’t care.

“You wanna stop?” he questions. He traces shapes on your hip, then letters. I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.

You shake your head and nuzzle his neck. “No, I want you to come. I want to see your face when you come inside me.”

The alcohol has definitely worn off but he still feels intoxicated in your presence. How can someone look like that? he wonders. You’re underneath him now, bright-eyed in anticipation. He licks his lips, amber eyes wide like a puppy. He wants to come — no, needs to — but he's also entertaining the idea of holding himself in so he can hear you orgasm ten more times.

“C’mon, Spidey,” you whisper, pulling his length towards you. He slides in slowly and exhales like it’s the first time again. You sigh dreamily, eyelashes fluttering at the halcyon feeling of warmth inside you. You feel so fucking full. Your nails dig into his muscular back as he moves faster, and the feeling is so euphoric that you’re sinking your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your screams.

“Oh, shit,” Peter sputters, whispering your name like it’s a poem he’s memorized. You nearly are a poem he’s memorized and it feels like heaven and more that he’s able to experience your body in this capacity — every inch, every curve. He’s about to be pushed to the edge once he hears you stutter his name mindlessly.

“Peter, Peter, Peter… f-fuck… gonna come again…”

Your back arches as shockwaves course through your body and suddenly Peter is gripping you from your hair to your shoulder hard enough to almost hurt in the best way possible. His knees buckle as he releases his come into you and you’re coming up for air after hearing his guttural moans and whines.

“Ffffuuuuckkkk,” Peter cries out, murmuring your name over and over like it’s the only word he knows.

You clutch his body like he’s a fallen hero (ha ha) and push the hair from his forehead, pecking him with kisses all over his face. His face is warm and so is his smile — so pretty, so unforgiving.

“We should do that, like, all the time,” he sighs, flopping his head onto your chest. You giggle, pulling him in your arms. His body is like a weighted blanket. He purrs at the feeling of your fingers through his hair.

“Definitely.”

___

i’ll be your cigarette ashtray

come back when it’s too late

worship you til morning comes

It was an annoying habit of yours. For some reason, your biological clock decided that when you got really drunk, you wouldn’t sleep in. Instead, like clockwork, you’d wake up at the crack of dawn.

Your eyes squint at your phone. 7:09 am. You groan, turning your body away from the sunrise that was perching itself higher and higher into the sky. The body next to you stirs at your movements, mumbling something unintelligible and laying an arm over your frame.

Your eyes flutter open to see Peter’s face, angelic and blue-tinged in the dimness of your room. His breaths are slow and quiet. You want to trace his cheekbones and his slightly crooked nose but you’re afraid to wake him, so you settle for a longing gaze.

“Morning,” he whispers, making you wince. His eyes are still closed but his mouth turns upwards into a smile.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Maybe, but I’m a light sleeper.” His pupils are blown out and black when he opens his eyes. He takes his hand and strokes your hair, inching over to your face and peppering a chaste kiss to your nose. He waits a second, then gives you a more passionate kiss on the mouth.

“Mmm. Morning breath,” you chuckle lightly.

“Hey,” he pouts. “That’s not how I like to be dirty-talked.”

You’re used to waking up next to Peter but the sight of him now is something new. He’s grown into his body and the way he looks naked right now, wrapped in your comforter… it’s like an alternate universe fr you. The sound of his morning voice is slightly raspy and low and you absolutely adore it.

“‘m not getting you off right now,” you mumble. “Make me breakfast first.”

He groans dramatically. He pulls you closer so that your nose is nestled into his warm chest. “Nope. Haven’t slept in like twenty-six hours, baby. Sweet dreams.”

[makeste]

“but I thought about how I needed to say this”

a.k.a. yet another meta dissection of The Apology. I actually wrote most of this up on Friday night based on the original Japanese (@pikahlua​ has an excellent translation up here, and I also used @hanashimas’ translations as a reference as well), but I wanted to wait until the official release, though that turned out to be a mixed bag to say the least lol.

I would also recommend reading @pikahlua​ and @class1akids​’ breakdowns of this scene (here and here, respectively), because they are excellent, and because if any scene deserves to have as many meta breakdowns written about it as possible, it’s this one.

anyway so here goes.

Caleb did a more accurate job with this than the fanscan, even if he did try his best to take us out of the seriousness of the moment by throwing in that swiss cheese line lol. anyway so there are two things I want to talk about here. the first is the line about Izuku not remembering, which I thought was a nice touch. of course he doesn’t remember what Kacchan said back then. he wasn’t exactly in the soundest emotional state after seeing one of the people he cares about most taking a near-fatal blow that was meant for him. I’d be shocked if he remembers anything about the aftermath (including the way he flew into a mindless rage afterwards) right up until the point when he entered the OFA Interstellar Party Void with Tomura. anyway, so I thought that was a nice callback.

and speaking of emotional states, the other thing I wanted to talk about is the part that Caleb got right which the fan scanlation didn’t. “but I had more to say.” in other words, “stop trying to win on your own” wasn’t just a one-liner; it was meant to be the beginning of a much longer speech. “there were other things that I needed to say.”

like, can we just stop and talk about that for a second. because basically what this means is that in that instant, when Kacchan pushed Deku out of the way and got impaled, his one and only thought was that he needed to apologize to Deku. his life was presumably flashing before his eyes, he had no idea if he was going to survive or not, and the only thing on his mind was how urgently he needed to make things right with his former childhood friend.

moving on!

so I have a confession to make, which is that I am relieved to see Katsuki describing this as the reason why he bullied Deku, as opposed to Horikoshi trying to retcon it into some sort of “secretly he was just trying to protect him and keep him out of harm’s way because he was worried” thing, which ngl would not have gelled very well with me. the thing is that I’m really not a fan of the whole “Kacchan Did Nothing Wrong” mentality that some fans seem to have. like, I have seen all sorts of convoluted attempts to find excuses for Katsuki’s shitty behavior, but in my view those attempts undermine what I love about his character in the first place. Katsuki is such a great character specifically because he is not perfect. his redemption arc is so compelling because he was such a giant asshole at the start. he was completely at fault, and he acknowledges this, and takes full responsibility for it. and that is fucking fantastic.

his arc is so great because it doesn’t rely on garnering sympathy by giving him a Tragic Past, or by trying to foist the blame for his behavior over on someone else. it’s an arc that acknowledges that redemption isn’t something you achieve by making people feel sorry for you; it’s something you have to earn by actively working to change and do better. and by forgoing the “misunderstood/tragic past” route, Horikoshi is making a statement that anyone can go down the wrong path, but that more importantly, anyone can also choose at any time to turn away from said path. there is only one requirement for doing so, and that is realizing that you’ve done wrong, and deciding that you want to change.

anyway, so in chapter 284 Kacchan of course had that whole speech about Deku not taking himself into account, and mentioned how that made him want to keep his distance. and a good chunk of fandom took this to mean that Katsuki’s bullying was actually a misguided response to Deku’s reckless tendencies -- sort of an “if I show him how weak and powerless he really is, I can get him to accept the reality that he’s quirkless, and that being a hero will just get him hurt or killed” type of thing. and I won’t lie, for a good while I was wondering myself if Horikoshi was really going to go down that route. and like I said, I am honestly relieved that he didn’t. not only for the reasons stated in the previous paragraph, but also because the message that would have sent -- that there are certain circumstances in which bullying can almost be excused because the bully had Good Intentions and was just trying to save the other person from themselves, and so it Wasn’t That Bad, Actually -- is all kinds of fucked up to say the least. so yeah, I’m glad we ended up steering well clear of that.

(ETA: this post was long enough already so I edited out the 3 additional paragraphs I originally wrote analyzing the dialogue from 284. but just to be clear, I’m not trying to imply that Kacchan worrying about Deku’s recklessness is a retconned thing that Horikoshi only threw into the story recently, because there are multiple instances throughout the story where he clearly is worried and in total denial of it. but I firmly believe those feelings are not what led to the bullying. they’re two separate things. Kacchan worrying about Deku is what prompts him to yell at him in chapter 1 when Deku comes to save him. but it’s not what incited him to burn his notebook and taunt him earlier in that same chapter. that action had a much meaner and more selfish motivation behind it, and I’m glad Horikoshi didn’t try to change it up last minute, because it wouldn’t have felt right.)

thankfully as of this chapter I think we can safely cross that out as a possibility, as we’re given the true explanation straight from Katsuki himself. and the truth is that he bullied Deku out of insecurity and jealousy and fear and intolerance. there was nothing noble about it. there were no good intentions concealed in his actions. there are no justifications given, no excuses offered, and no mitigating circumstances to be considered, other than the fact (which neither he nor Horikoshi bring up) that he was and is still a child, and that children make mistakes.

it’s an explanation that challenges many of fandom’s ideas on who is and isn’t eligible to be redeemed. there is no Ozai in Katsuki’s backstory. there’s no great tragedy that he spent a lifetime trying to rise above. the only villain in Katsuki’s story is Katsuki himself. the only darkness that he has to overcome is his own. and it’s challenging, because I think many people believe the only way someone can be redeemed for doing bad things is if bad things happen to them in return. but what Horikoshi is saying here is that that’s not the case. bad doesn’t erase bad. and the one and only way to truly earn redemption is by doing good.

and that’s what makes this such a phenomenal scene for me. by not shying away from Katsuki’s flaws and failings, and having him take full responsibility for them, Horikoshi keeps the apology from being self-serving, and underscores the true depth of Katsuki’s character development. the level of self-awareness he has here is something most people can only dream of. which is very fitting, as that’s perhaps the most important takeaway from his character arc -- that it’s only by acknowledging your own weaknesses and flaws that you can learn to overcome them and reach your full potential.

one last thing to point out here, which is that in the panel where Katsuki finally acknowledges his terrible treatment of Deku, Deku is not even visible. instead, Horikoshi drew the panel from a perspective that makes it appear that Katsuki is addressing this particular line not just to Deku, but to all of his classmates.

again, he shows him taking full responsibility and admitting his wrongdoings in front of the people whose opinions and approval he cares about most. and just to clarify in case there’s any confusion from Caleb’s translation, Kacchan’s wording makes it very clear that he wasn’t just “mean” to Deku, but that he full-on bullied him (he uses the same verb -- “ijimeru” (苛める) -- that he did back in chapter 284). there’s no attempt to downplay his actions here.

moving on now, this chapter also reaffirmed another thing about Deku and Kacchan’s relationship which I was glad to see revisited -- Kacchan’s unwavering belief in Deku’s ability. this is one of those paradoxical things about their relationship which I’ve always been fascinated by, but which is also kind of hard to explain, because I don’t want it to come off like I’m trying to put a positive spin on something which was unequivocally awful. like, please don’t think I’m trying to say that Katsuki’s bullying of Deku was in any way a good thing. but that being said, there’s also a strange irony at play here, which is that Katsuki’s jealousy and insecurity also betray the fact that even at his very worst, he never once underestimated Deku. he has always believed in Deku’s strength, even when that strength pissed him off and made him afraid and uneasy.

no one else -- not All Might, or even Deku’s own mom -- believed from the get-go that Deku could become a hero. but Katsuki never once counted him out, even when he was calling him a pebble in his shoe. he confesses here that even though he “tried to act superior by rejecting [Deku]”, in truth he was never able to shake the feeling that Deku was above him. long before he ever understood the concept of “win to save”, he knew instinctively that there was a strength in Deku’s heart that couldn’t be measured, and which had the potential to surpass even his own strength. and I’ve always felt that this was so important, because it’s the one aspect of their early relationship that hinted that on some level, however subconscious, Katsuki held the same type of faith in Deku that Deku always held in him. it was one of the few things that hinted at there being a possible path towards reconciliation one day. and it paved the way for the most important shift in their relationship to date, when Katsuki finally realized who Deku got his quirk from, and responded not with resentment or spite, but with acceptance.

moving on, I also really love the way we see them portrayed at the different stages of their childhood throughout this speech, and how it perfectly lines up with the dialogue. from small children (when Katsuki talks about his insecurities first manifesting), to middle schoolers (when he talks about the bullying), to high schoolers (when he talks about the past year and everything he’s learned at U.A.). Horikoshi really didn’t have to go that hard, but he did, and that’s why we love him.

and then we finally get to That Part.

where do I even start with this there are so many things omg.

the bow. this is the one and only time Katsuki has ever bowed to anyone of his own volition as far as I recall. and this absolutely is a bow, just to be clear, even though his form is straight-up garbage (very Kacchan-esque, with his feet and arms spaced apart because he’s still a punk after all). this is Kacchan showing more humility and respect than he’s ever shown to anyone else in his entire life.

regarding “Izuku”, I actually have mixed feelings about this to tell the truth. I think it was a good call here because it was incredibly effective in setting the tone and showing just how serious Kacchan is. however if he continues to use “Izuku” rather than “Deku” from here on out, that would give the impression in hindsight that all his past usage of “Deku” really was meant as an insult, which would undermine some of my favorite scenes. I would really like to believe that since DvK2 or thereabouts, Kacchan has (mostly) been using “Deku (affectionate)” rather than “Deku (useless loser)”, lol. but if he switches to the “nicer” name on a permanent basis following his apology, it implies that the previous nickname was indeed being used cruelly. and so honestly I hope this was just a one-time thing, because I do think that in Katsuki’s mind, the name “Deku” hasn’t been meant as a slight to him for a long time now.

“my truth/this is what I truly feel” -- the word Katsuki uses in Japanese is honne (本音), and if you’re familiar with the concept of honne/tatemae, that’s the same “honne” he’s talking about here. it means that he’s casting aside all of his walls and facades and expressing what he truly feels. and of course, one of the fascinating things about Katsuki’s character is that he’s the exact opposite of most people in that he chooses to put his meanness on full display to the public, and ironically it’s the kindest parts of himself which he tends to keep the most carefully guarded and hidden away. this also means that while his rage and anger are very often insincere and put on just for show, those relatively few occasions where he lets his humanity truly shine through are pretty much 100% genuine, as is the case with this one here.

and Deku’s face says it all when it comes to how powerful those moments can be as a result.

and this, right here, is why it wasn’t enough for Katsuki to atone solely through his actions, and why he needed to actually say the words as well. it’s not that the words are more important; obviously the actions are far and away the most important part, and carry far more meaning. but the reason why Katsuki needed to say the words as well is simply because Izuku needed to hear them. needed to, and deserved to, because this is one of the most important people in the world to him.

and so he deserves to know that the relationship isn’t just one-sided, and that he is just as important to Kacchan as Kacchan is to him. he deserves to know that Kacchan understands how horribly he treated him, and that he’s sorry for it. and he deserves to know that Kacchan, without any expectation of it changing their relationship -- meaning that he will continue to feel this way regardless of what Izuku says or does from here on out -- cares about him. now more than ever, with AFO out there doing everything in his power to make Izuku feel as alone as possible, this is something that he really, really needed to hear.

so this part has some interesting wordplay which neither Caleb’s translation nor the fan scanlation was really able to get across. basically, in the Japanese version, when Katsuki talks about “those ideals”, Horikoshi uses the kanji for “ideal”, but pronounces it as “All Might.” obviously the meaning of this isn’t too hard to decipher, as we all know how much both boys admire All Might. to them, he absolutely is synonymous with the Ideal. so this is a way of showing that respect they both have towards him, even as Katsuki goes on to point out the one fatal flaw that All Might was never able to overcome.

and speaking of interesting wording, as others have noted, at this point in his speech Katsuki switches from “temee” (which he was using earlier during the “your strengths and my weaknesses” part) to “omae” (“omae” being a less insulting word for “you”, though still very manly and tough-sounding), which is definitely a big deal. though fwiw this is not the first time he’s used “omae” for Deku (he switches to it briefly right after DvK2, when he tells Deku “you had the strongest guy lay the groundwork for you -- don’t lose”, and then later when they’re walking back to the dorms and he says he’ll learn and get stronger by watching everyone around him just like Deku did). it’s definitely a good choice on Horikoshi’s part though, as it makes this last part of the speech sound more earnest and sincere.

just a quick note, he does indeed use a plural pronoun here, as in “the obstacles that you can’t overcome, we will overcome.” but as @pikahlua​ pointed out, the “we” here is ambiguous -- it could either mean “we” as in class 1-A -- “we will overcome them for you” -- OR it could mean “we” as in all of them -- class 1-A and Deku. “we will overcome them together.” idk about you, but I know which one gets my vote.

anyway, and so this is the line that finally wins Deku over and allows him to let go of his fears, however briefly. what I love about this is Kacchan’s utter conviction. one thing that Caleb’s translation doesn’t quite get across is Kacchan’s use of the word morenaku -- “without exception” -- when he talks about how they’re going to save everyone and win. it echoes that same sentiment he showed back during the Joint Training arc -- that it’s not a perfect victory unless they save everyone. every last person. and he explicitly lists Deku among their number, just so there can be no doubt.

and Deku’s response to this (or at least his thoughts, since he’s not really able to get many words out) pretty much brings everything full circle here.

he acknowledges that everyone else has gotten ahead of him. which is especially meaningful given who he’s standing directly across from. because for most of the series, as we all well know, it’s been Kacchan who was woefully lagging behind Deku in the character growth department. but now Deku himself is acknowledging that not only has Kacchan finally caught up at last, but that he and the others have surpassed him. which is only temporary, I should add, as I have zero doubt that Deku will catch up again soon. but the fact remains that just as Deku’s rapid increase in strength and skill left Kacchan scrambling to keep up earlier in the series, Kacchan’s extraordinary character development has now left Deku in that same position. as All Might once put it, “when he’s starting at level one, and you’re already at level 50, it’s only natural that you’ll be growing at different rates.”

and what’s so wonderful about this though is that the two of them are finally approaching that point where they’ve both caught up to each other and are finally starting to level out. Deku is a full-on badass, and Kacchan is out here talk-no-jutsuing with the best of them. the two of them have been chasing and chasing after each other this entire time, and now they’re finally just about ready to meet in the middle at long last, with each of them fully embodying both of those two crucial aspects -- win, and save.

just about. because Deku still needs some help catching up. but seeing as help has already been offered -- and accepted -- I can’t imagine it will be very long now, and I can’t wait to see him finally overcoming those fears and doubts with his friends by his side. it’s going to be such a powerful moment.

and last but not least,

or, as I prefer,

you had one job, Caleb. flkjsdlk.

but at least this provides a good opportunity to note that unlike the “we’ll help you handle it” line earlier in the speech, here the phrasing is left up to interpretation, as he doesn’t use a pronoun. so it could be “we know”, or, as the fan scanlation put it, “I know.” or it could be both. regardless, it’s good stuff.

anyway, and so Deku passes out, and in the process Horikoshi gives us one last parting metaphor, just in case anyone still thinks Kacchan is all talk because they haven’t been paying attention for the past 322 chapters (more likely than you think). once again, Katsuki’s actions speak louder than his words (even his nice words) ever could: he is literally there to catch Deku when he falls.

so that’s it! my sincere thanks to anyone who actually read through all of my endless ramblings about this scene which I have been waiting for since day one. props to Horikoshi for taking on an impossibly difficult task, and pulling it off with all of the emotion and care and nuance that I’ve come to expect from his writing. imo he delivered on every single level with the exception of the aftermath, which I don’t consider to have actually happened yet. Deku’s part of this is definitely a “to be continued.” but yeah, as far as Kacchan’s part goes, 10/10. so fucking proud of this kid.