#anyway i could literally write an essay on peter

[little-bit-obsessed]

He's God's favourite,,, he's my favourite

[ynscrazylife]

could you write any fanfics or headcannons about the avengers doing family stuff? like going shopping altogether? with a the reader being the daughter of tony stark and something like y/n!stark x peter parker? just fluff

Domestic Avengers Would Include . . .

It would be difficult to get all the Avengers to go shopping at once but where there’s a will, there’s a way

The hardest to convince would probably be Natasha and Bucky but they love you, so they’d join you anyway

You and Wanda would take forever in the changing rooms (forcing Peter and Vision to hold all your stuff)

Thor would go straight for the food court, marveling at all the Midgardian food

Tony would probably go to any of the tech or expensive stores

Nat would browse and window shop with Steve and Bruce

Sam and Bucky would get into some fight and would nearly be kicked out

By the time you get to the court room, Thor would have all different kinds of food and candies

(Peter has to literally drag you away from the candy at a certain point)

I think this just goes to show that if you give them the chance, the Avengers are really a family and can be domestic

They all look after each other, but especially of you and Peter

Natasha, Wanda, and Carol are like older sisters/aunts, Steve, Bruce, Thor, Vision, and Clint are like uncles, and Sam and Bucky are like older brothers

Wanda always cooks. She and Pepper would teach you how to cook

The team all fight over Wanda’s cooking

At first, Steve tried to teach you how to drive

It did not work out

Next, Nat tried to teach you

(You nearly crashed into someone that day)

Finally, Bruce taught. He’s pretty chill so it worked out

The Avengers would also help you with homework. Nat has experience with helping Clint’s kids after-all

You go down to the lab to get Tony, Bruce, and Peter’s help for math

Steve and Bucky for history

Steve would def help with art (hc he’s an artist)

Carol would help with any space related classes like Astronomy

Vision would check your grammar and punctuation and spelling (he’d edit your essays)

GOING PROM SHOPPING WITH THE AVENGERS IS CHAOTIC

they all insist on seeing yours and Peter’s outfits and everyone has an opinion

(Your wedding day will be so much worse)

Wanda almost buries you with the amount of outfits she picks out

And they get so many freaking pictures

It’s a little insane how many pictures they insist on taking

“We need one of Peter opening the door.” “We need one of Y/N coming down the stairs.” “Clint, you’re in the background, move!”

They send you off in a limo paid by Tony

You and Peter have such a sweet and fun night

They’d also definitely go to your graduation

Tony pulled some strings to get all the Avengers tickets but finding seats next to each other was a challenge

They clap and cheer the loudest

And take you out for the best ice cream

Okay okay but . . . Movie nights

Sam insists on popcorn from the movies, forcing Steve to go out and get a million bags of popcorn

Everyone takes turns choosing movies

(That backfires when Bruce chooses a nature documentary and everyone revolts)

BLANKET FORTS

SLEEPOVERS IN THE LIVING ROOM

(Which you have to force everyone to do)

Going out on the roof and Star gazing

Which means you had to force Tony and Bruce to build you a telescope

It’s worth it though

The Avengers just being the best, most supportive family you could ask for

THERES SO MUCH LOVE THERE

❤️❤️❤️

[mlm-writer]

Home (Peter Parker x GN!Reader)

Pairing:  Peter Parker (TASM) x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: General Audiences (except for one swear word) Words: 1652 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 2 - Love Confession Tags: college AU, you're both studying mechanical engineering, Peter is a genius, you're just ken, fluff, kinda cheesy and kissing

It’s always something. You can never have a normal exam week, where you just spend your days in the library surrounded by fellow students, mutually fuelled by caffeine and stress. Supervillain of the week literally burned down the public library and there was an alien spacecraft that crashed into your favourite café. It felt like you still had a million chapters to read and another five thousand words to write for an essay and not to forget that your stupid project partner still has not even opened the Google Slides link you sent them. 

A long sigh, mixed with a frustrated growl left you as you once again couldn’t find a single spot on campus to sit down and study. It was always crowded like this during exam week. If you wanted a good spot, you better come to campus at 6:30am, but who had the energy for that? Fortunately for you, there was a small pebble on the road that led through the fields of yellowed grass between the main building and the main gate. You kicked it as hard as you could, letting all your woes leave you through your foot and into that little rock. It flew forward and - unexpectedly - up. “Oh shit!” You exclaimed as you followed its trajectory with your eyes. It was going straight for someone’s head, but before you could tell the brunet to watch out, he turned around and caught the pebble midair. 

When he was turned around, you recognised him. Out of all people for that pebble to almost hit, it just had to be your crush. “Peter!” You called out to him as you jogged over. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to kick it your way… good catch by the way.” 

Peter held the pebble in his fist and smiled at you; he was so cute when he did that. “Oh hey!” He beamed at you. When you complimented his catch, he hid his hands behind him and avoided eye contact. “Thanks, I got uh… good reflexes.” He cleared his throat and then looked at you. “Already done with studying for the day?”

You let out another frustrated sigh. “Ha! I wish. I came here to study, but it is fuller than a Blackpink concert stadium here. Guess I’ll have to settle for my tiny desk in my shoe-box dorm room.” 

Peter snorted at your comparison. He seemed to want to say something, but he was hesitant about it. “Uh…” You raised your brows at him, awaiting his words. “I just uh… finished my final presentation for the thermodynamics course-”

“Oh how did that go?” “Got an A, but that’s not important-”

“Not important? Bro, you’re kidding, that's great!”

Peter was getting a little red. You liked how humble he was in spite of how smart he was. He was a little awkward, but during presentations, he often had his own flavour of charisma that made you listen instantly. He was good on the eyes too…

“Uhm, thank you… what I wanted to say is uh… I’m going home now to study. My aunt won’t be home until late and you’re free to join me at my dinner table - to study, I mean, but you’re welcome to join for dinner too of course!” 

You kept forgetting Peter still doesn’t live on his own. Sometimes you envied him, sometimes you were happy with your freedom. “Are you sure? That’d be really cool. Studying together is way more fun than on my own anyway. Oh, do you maybe have notes for our material science course that I could borrow?” 

A little later those notes were in front of you as you were seated at Peter’s dinner table. You had never been in his home before, but the Earthy tones and natural lights just made it feel like a home. There was love in the pictures that decorated the place, there was personality in the old books that scattered the house, one of a shelf on the wall, another one next to a vase with flowers, another on the side table by the couch… 

“Here you go!” Peter put a glass of juice next to you. You thanked him with a smile. You did not realise how your warm smile fit right in that room, how it made Peter’s heart leap and his stomach flip upside down. He just sat down across from you like there was nothing going on. 

You managed to concentrate for a good half hour, but after that your eyes drifted up and caught onto a sight that was way better than a schematic drawing of how tension affects different materials. Peter had this cute frown of concentration on his face, a pencil balancing between his lips as he typed something up on his laptop. He abruptly paused and looked straight at you. The change was so sudden; your eyes widened, before you forced them back onto Peter’s notes. Your face felt hot. Peter definitely caught you staring and you had no idea what he thought of it. Did he suspect you fantasised about kissing him whenever he info-dumped on you? Did he know how his smile could light up your whole day? Did he have a clue or was he just that oblivious? Most smart people were.

Suddenly, Peter let his head fall onto the dinner table. “I can’t do this anymore!” He exclaimed. You gave him a worried look, not that he saw it with his face planted in his notes. 

“Wow, I didn’t know even the genius Peter Parker suffered from exam breakdown,” you commented. You genuinely thought Peter thought exams were a breeze. His grades were all exemplary, except that one time he was down with the flu so bad, you didn’t see him for three weeks. 

“That’s not it! I’m-” he lifted his head. He was clearly upset, but as he rose from his seat to walk back and forth along the kitchen counters, he couldn’t put a single sentence together. He had paced the length of his kitchen at least five times, before he spoke up again. “This is so not how I envisioned this going, but I feel like I am gonna burst if I don’t say this now!” He walked over to you and, in an incredible display of strength, turned your chair with you on it to face away from the table. His arms were caging you, holding the back of the old, wooden furniture. “I’m so in love with you and…” He seemed to realise what he said and physically backed up until his back was against the wall. 

You didn’t know what to say. It was hard to believe your ears. You just stared at him in shock as Peter did that thing you adored so much – rattling on like someone who did not prepare enough text to fill up their 30-minutes presentation. “And I don’t need you to feel the same, sorry, that was coming off a little strong, but I mean it. It’s like I’m in pain when I’m around you and I can’t hold you. Wait no that’s cheesy. Is it? I don’t even know, you make me wanna say cheesy stuff!” Peter was suddenly very interested in the couch in the living room, his eyes never leaving it as more words poured uncontrollably from his mouth. “When you look at me all my instincts are telling me you feel the same, but it could be wishful thinking, but I am so sure, but what if I’m wrong, I mean if I AM wrong, then that’s fine, I just…” 

You stood up. Peter immediately shut up, eyes shifting to the floor. He looked like a child caught with his fingers in the cookie jar. You took a deep breath to settle your nerves and then closed the distance quickly, putting one hand on the wall behind Peter. Your classmate froze up and you wanted to relieve him of his nerves, but you had your own that clogged up your throat and wound your vocal cords tight like a scrunchie holding a very heavy ponytail. “Whenever you talk, I never want you to shut up, but when I look at your lips moving, I cannot think about anything but making you shut up with my own.” 

Peter looked up, glistening eyes pulling you in. You were scanning each other’s faces, both scared this was all just some prank or a dream. “I’m going to ruin this moment by talking about material science if you don’t shut me up right now,” he almost whispered. You chuckled and put an arm around him, pulling him against you until your lips met. It was like coming home, like hot chocolate in winter, like a cosy blanket by the window on a rainy day. 

Your lips touched like they were meant to do so from day one. It was your first kiss together and yet it felt like you had been doing this for ages. Your whole body felt like it was going haywire and the look in Peter’s eyes when you parted did not help. Neither of you said anything, kissing in the kitchen over and over again, as if you were memorising each other’s taste, while you should be memorising that schematic you still had open on your laptop. 

When you finally found it in you to take a step back from Peter, you were both smiling giddily at each other. You broke the silence between you two, before Peter did. “All jokes aside, I actually do need you to talk to me about material science. I think I’ll be much more concentrated when you explain it.” 

Peter let out a chuckle. “Ok, but when exams are over, you are buying me dinner.” 

You slowly walked back to your chair. “I’ll even throw in a movie as well,” you replied, suddenly feeling a lot better about your exams. 

—————

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[hbpseverus]

What the internet did to James Potters character is actually so incredibly fascinating... in canon, this man was a background character who served not much of a purpose other than being used as a tool to develop other characters. We see him in like two scenes in the entire franchise: a throwback to Hogwarts where he acts so horribly that his own son, who previously *admired* him more than anything, is in total shock and disgust when he sees it. Not only does James commit an act of SA out of literal boredom, he is also seen treating his own 'friends' - Remus, Peter and Lily - as if they are worthless or beneath him, all within a few pages. I could probably write a whole essay about the dynamics between all of the characters present in Snape's worst memory, they way this supposed friend group was already falling apart, the way James and Sirius treated Remus and Peter with utter disrespect. Anyway, the other scene he appears in is when he dies. And that's it. That's all we have. On top of that he was, in canon, pictured to be average looking at most, a pasty kid with nerdy glasses and an even more nerdy hairdo that would most likely make him the victim of bullying, rather than the bully, at a real school. And the only people who talk of any sort of character development are his old friends and teachers, the same ones who either stood by or actively participated while he harrassed *several* other students for fun and casually commited acts that could probably land an adult man in prison for a few years. Plus they were trying to restore some of the glorious image of his father that Harry had in mind. So, not the most reliable source.

The fascinating part is how a corner of the internet managed to hyperfixate on this background character who was pictured as nothing but an awful person in the books, erased *all* of his canon character and turned him into the exact opposite. Suddenly he looks about ×1000 times more attractive in fanart, and all bad things he did are conveniently forgotten. Same goes for Sirius, especially in relation to the Wolfstar ship. James and Sirius were clearly close friends, but Remus? He was just strung along, not given the same respect. Sirius carelessly yaps about his being a werewolf in the middle of the schoolyard where anyone could hear and talks about how he wishes it was a full moon so they could have 'fun' - a sentiment I'm not so sure Remus shared. It's a very unhealthy and dysfunctional friendship that would be even worse if it was a romantic relationship. That being said, they are all very complex, very flawed characters who are extremely interesting to analyse. Fanon often strips away any complexity that these characters had in canon in order to make them more appealing. It's just... a shame almost, at least in my opinion. These fanon characters are entirely unappealing to me. I respect them as a sort of seperate fandom with their own original characters, but it's gotten so mixed up with canon that people no longer remember who these characters truly are, and if you bring up and dare to criticize their ugly sides in any way, then good luck soldier.

[all-too-unwell-13]

random headcannons i have for marauders era characters :)

james - while he has adhd and gets distracted easily, he's really smart and does well in school. james has that type of smile that could literally light up a whole room ! he's also the type of person who, when he's upset, everyone else is too.

sirius - neatest handwriting to ever handwrite, except he prefers to write messily because he was forced to write extremely neatly as a child (sirius rebellion arc part 5 bajillion)

remus - we all know moony loves chocolate; he has a drawer in his bedside table where he keeps all his chocolate hidden so that nobody takes it. unlike sirius, remus' handwriting is really messy, but he prefers to write neatly, so his essays take an hour longer to write than everyone else's because he wants to make sure his handwriting is nice.

peter - i stan aroace peter idc !! he loves herbology and plants and has bookshelves upon bookshelves filled with herbology books in the marauders' shared dorm !!

marlene - don't ask how, but this girl manages to get every colour of hair dye possible to colour the ends of her hair (it changes colour like every month). she has light blond hair, so the colour is always really bright too.

lily - plus size lily has my heart <3 she's also such a mum friend and loves taking care of all her friends, like if mary or marlene have had a bad day, she'll sit with them while they rant and braid their hair !! i think lily had really long hair for most of her life, so she knows how to do every hairstyle ever. also, if anyone wants to talk about books, lily is the person to go to; this girl has read 90% of the books in the library by year 4.

mary - much like marlene with her hair dye, mary likes to paint her nails every other week; she'll also paint marlene's and lily's if they ask (or if they don't! mary will paint their nails anyway). she loves anything with heart patterns; pajamas, shirts, etc. she's also a huge hugger & her love language is physical touch <3

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Apologies for dropping the teaser to an essay and not delivering (and for originally sending it in anonymously I was in a silly goofy mood) here’s my argument for two songs so I don’t completely fill your inbox:

Hozier writes songs of his love in an obsessive way; he is fully and completely obsessed with his partner, which we can see in Take Me To Church where he is literally worshiping them. But there’s no hesitation. No “I’m worshipping you and I know this isn’t realistic” - it is fully and completely, overwhelming. Jason Peter Todd loves in the same way. Everything he has ever loved has been taken in the cruelest way. This is a man who NEEDS something to cling to. Something to fight for. And when he finds it in his partner, he will worship them with zero shame.

Francesca, specifically, is, I would argue, the single most Jason coded thing to ever exist. More than Jason himself. To shout from the rooftops “If someone asked me at the end, I’d tell them put me back in”. He finds a love that makes the most impossible things worth it. All he’s known is instability (see “My life was a storm, since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane?”) he needs something SOMEONE to make it all worth it. The nights on the street alone as a child, the longing for home and family. The post-pit haze. The pure betrayal he faced at the hands of who he thought was his father. He wouldn’t trade a second of it, if it meant he got to be right here, right now, holding his love in his arms.

Don’t even get me STARTED on him dreaming of having his little domestic bliss life (Jackie and Wilson) or the realization he shifted from a “I don’t fear death bc I’m in borrowed time anyways” to the “I can’t leave this earth bc my lover’s on it” to “I came back once, I will come back a million times to THEM” (Work Song)

I could see it 💜

[goosemixtapes]

max's top books of 2023 :3c

as usual, these rankings are based on some arcane mix of objective quality + my personal enjoyment (previous year's lists)

it was another weird reading year! i did a lot of reading for school, more so than in the past; some of it was really good and some of it was, uh. well, some of it was william wordsworth. nothing i absolutely loathed, though (most of the reads i disliked were books i could at least appreciate on an art/history level), which is cool. so i'm bringing back the runner-up category. did not make it onto my top ten list but were really good anyway: beartown by fredrik backman (books that no joke made me understand why people are insane about sports) and the GORGEOUS re-release of my dear @yvesdot 's debut, something's not right, which i have read before but will always gladly revisit again.

my top anticipated release for 2024 is alecto the ninth again.

(but shoutout also to just happy to be here, king cheer, and henry henry. trans people! shakespeare, even!)

and the list! in increasing order of enjoyment, with pictures this year!

10. The Common Liar by Janet Adelman

no, i can't believe i'm doing this either. i can't believe i did all that preamble and the first book on my list is an academic thesis analyzing shakespeare's antony and cleopatra. but also? it's the only book anyone ever needs to write about shakespeare's antony and cleopatra. janet adelman said it all. which is cool, because i have a fixation on that play, but also sucks, because i was also trying to write an essay on it and mine wasn't nearly as good. btw if anyone wants to buy this for me, somehow, for the $120 it costs on amazon because academia is awful, i will send you my address,

9. Robert Icke's Oresteia

i don't need to say anything about this play, because it's the source of "this was always going to happen. she's been dead since the beginning." that should be enough. but after becoming deranged about the oresteia last year, i finally read this, and holy shit, this adaptation of the story is so fucking genius and icke's writing is so fucking good. it's antiwar! it's about mental illness! there's gender! the fucking ENDING! (i have a pdf if anyone would like it. anything to plug this play bark bark bark rufrufruf grrrrrr)

8. Down Girl: the Logic of Misogyny by Kate Manne

this is a little bit cheating, because i haven't finished this book yet, so maybe in the final chapters manne will say something like "what if we blew up every orphan" and i'll have to retract this. but right now it's fucking excellent! i've been making an effort to read more nonfiction lately, and this one shines; manne sets out to analyze misogyny not as a personal hatred of women that some men harbor, but as an intricate and structural system forcing women into the role of Giving (attention, affection, power, etc; sometimes their lives). and it's sooooo smart. some of it is stuff i already know (and some of it is Academic Philosophy TM that goes right over my head), but manne articulates her point excellently and i can feel it rearranging my brain, so it's going on the list for longevity and skill!

7. Dictator by Robert Harris

does this book objectively deserve to be on this list? you know what, yeah. i'll say it with my whole chest. i don't like how harris writes women and there are plenty of things to pick at in his cicero trilogy, but i had so much goddamn fun reading it that i can't not put it on the list. this was my year of being really really into cicero, and this was fun to read alongside e-pistulae. harris is sooooo good at making ancient roman politics gripping. the last scenes of this book. augh. ack. ough!

6. Detransition Baby by Torrey Peters

there are a lot of valid critiques of this one (a lot of bad critiqus, too, but such is writing literally anything about transness), but i fucking adored it. i LOVE dual timelines, i LOVE unlikable characters, and i FUCKING LOVE TRANSSEXUALITY! moreover, i love that peters isn't afraid to Go There, to poke at the messy ugly sides of transness (and queerness in general) that i think a lot of us don't like acknowledging, especially to cishet people whose view of the community is already skewed. i don’t think this is the One Great Trans Novel; i think there are a lot of great trans novels, and we need more. but this one did hit me RIGHT in the chest, and i couldn't put it down.

5. Wrath Goddess Sing by Maya Deane

the iliad but achilles is a trans woman and she's fighting the war on both mortal and divine levels and she and helen have an insane homoerotic half-god rivalry and everybody is fucking crazy. pitched as "for fans of TSOA" but as i said in my review if TSOA is a pleasant but watery iced tea then this book is gasoline laced with crack. there is a bisexual transgender threesome. i fucking love women. book of the fucking summer

4. White Teeth by Zadie Smith

i probably enjoyed wrath goddess sing more, but i can't not rank this book highly on this list. this book is such a fucking masterpiece. it's tolstoy for the modern age. it's a sprawling multi-familial multi-cultural multi-generational epic about race and gender and religion and science and humanity and britishness. smith's prose is fucking amazing; her character work is even better; this book has no plot but it uses its length sooooooo well. the first zadie smith i've read, but by god there will be more. she wrote this at TWENTY-FIVE. that's fucking CRAZY. do you know how much control over your craft you have to have to write this at twenty-five. bonkers. it is also the only enjoyable book i read in my modern literature class, so shoutout to white teeth for keeping me sane,

3. The Secret to Superhuman Strength by Alison Bechdel

this book is ostensibly about bechdel's relationship with exercise. it is actually about bechdel's relationship with her own body, her own soul, her desire for individualism in the style of the transcendentalists, transcendentalism in general, mortality, and aging. i can't really tell you more than that because i didn't actually "read" this so much as i absorbed it through my skin like a frog while trying not to tremble like a little purse dog. i am not gonna lie man i did not have a very good. um. august. or september. or october november december. so this book really could not have come at a better time. alison bechdel i am obsessed with you

2. The Essential Dykes to Watch Out For by Alison Bechdel

ALISON BECHDEL I AM OBSESSED WITH YOU!!!! this one narrowly edges out secret to superhuman strength because... well, i'm sort of rating the entire comic strip's run, and dude. holy shit. i love lesbians so much. this strip is such an important piece of lesbian history; it reminded me that a lot of the things lesbians (and LGBT people in general) argue about and deal with today are... the same things we've always argued about and dealt with, from intracommunity label discourse to global politics to hitting on women badly. but history aside--it's also just really fucking good! it's really funny! if you are a neurotic leftist, as so many of us are, it's hysterical! it's smart! it's hot! it's heartwarming! i read it over the first half of the year, in little bits and pieces, and by the end i felt like i really had gone decades with these characters. really just. so good. the power she has the range she has

1. the suzanne collins reread

okay. this one is definitely cheating. because i usually like to keep this list to books i'm reading for the first time, and i HAVE read the hunger games and the underland chronicles. but i read them, like, almost ten years ago, and i was not prepared to be so thoroughly fucking bodied by them this time around, now that i have critical thinking and analysis skills. we all know the hunger games is a fucking banger, so let me pitch the gregor the overlander series: something of a modern alice in wonderland setup, where the eleven-year-old main character falls into an underground world full of strangeness, except this world isn't whimsical, it's dangerous and stuffed with giant talking animals like bats and rats and cockroaches. there's a war on. there are plagues. there are war crimes. there is a plotline that is extremely explicitly about ethnic cleansing. there is some of the most heartbreaking fucking shit you've ever read in your goddamn life. there is also a rat who quotes macbeth and the underlanders revere a guy named bartholomew of sandwich. this series is for middle schoolers. i cried. not when i was a middle schooler reading it the first time; i mean now. so i'm breaking my no-rereads rule, because it really would be a lie to say that my best reading experience wasn't revisiting all of collins' work with my friends (yes, i read TBSOS; i think it's fine but not great). sorry to give publicity to an author who definitely doesn't need my help, but a few years ago my #1 spot went to shakespeare, so.

if you've read this far: thank you! please tell me your thoughts! tell me your favorite books of 2023! tell me which books you're excited for in 2024! and have a very lovely new year :)

[enbysiriusblack]

( this isnt aimed at u btw i just need to rant )

FREE REMUS FROM THE DUMB ALLEGATIONSSSSSSSSSS like omg. he was a professor and a GOOD one at that!!!!!! the best DADA professor harry's year level ever head !!!!!!!!! he was literally a prefect as well like idk what to tell people who get mad when remus is portrayed as smart in fics like . he literally is canonically smart jdghkjdfghk and it just fits with his character to work tirelessly to build up his intelligence anyways because he knew there wouldn't be job opportunities for him anywhere else but academia (writing journal articles etc.) like omfg media literacy is so dead i hate marauders tiktok End Of Rant

you are very much right, anon.

i think a lot of what people get annoyed at (at least from what i see) is more when remus is smart, but sirius and james are dumbed down. like they were 2 of the smartest kids in their year without even trying but a lot of the fandom seems to keep making remus the smartest, and them sorta,, not. i haven't really seen anger that is actually towards remus being smart (maybe because im not on maraudertok? idk)

but yeah, remus is also extremely smart. (and peter tbh. like i could rant for hours anout how people dont seem to understand that peter was still so fucking smart and talented). he is The academic character. being smart is so important to him, he wants to do well in classes, to be a professor, and he thoroughly enjoys it.

so like,, i think i'd get mad at any of them being portrayed as dumb... they're literally some of the most talented wizards, they all do extremely impressive things.

remus is a bookish, academic, tweed wearing, briefcase owning, school loving, library dwelling person. he loves learning. he loves essays. he is smart.

smart marauders fr <33

[greensagephase]

Alondra… where do I even begin… nonviolent communication part 7 was absolutely incredible. As soon as I saw part 7 come out I literally planned my day around it so I could read it. The way you described the holiday season was so cozy, now I really can’t wait for the holidays to roll around! It’s nice to see that reader is progressing in her life in terms of healing from Peter- it’s still sad and bittersweet but I’m so happy she doesn’t feel so alone anymore. The little conversation with Miles’s parents was so heartwarming, and when they mentioned Miguel!! The fact they specifically asked for reader to bring him food and spend some time with him… they know what they’re doing. Oh and don’t get me started on when reader enters Miguels penthouse, seeing him in normal clothes for the first time, I mean just imagining Miguel in that chunky sweater and everything… so hot I mean… cozy (those arm veins tho…). I swear I was smiling at every little interaction reader and Miguel had- I mean their relationship is progressing and changing for the better. It was great to see Miguel and reader bond and get to know each other even more than before, even feeling more comfortable around each other. You just write Miguel so well, he’s so caring… but it makes me so sad because he’s lost so much. Your descriptions of Miguels world and little details like the holographic trees just add so much to the story, I just love all the effort you put into writing details like that. The ending too!!! I thought it would end bittersweet with reader leaving for the night but the fact we’re coming back for recalentado!! Phew… the slow burn… amazing Alondra, I always want to say more but then this would just be an essay about how much I love your writing. ✨

And thanks for always responding back to my asks too, I feel like I write way too much too sometimes, but I just got to let you know how much I appreciate and love each part that comes out. Your work always makes my day, and I’ve even drawn some fan art inspired by it. I love drawing and you’ve inspired me to draw Miguel even more ever since the movie came out (it’s a problem). Anyways, amazing job as always! ✨✨✨

Anon... I'm currently freaking out about the fact that you said you've drawn art inspired by it but I'm gonna add my thoughts on this at the end even though it's very hard because I'm freaking out (in a good way)!!

Okay, now that I've calmed down a bit, thank you for the kind words as always!! You're the sweetest!! 🥹

Regarding the reader and their life progressing in terms of Peter's death: me, too! I'm happy things are turning around for her after being alone for so long. And it's sad and bittersweet for me because I don't think Peter will be mentioned as much now and I've grown so fond over him despite being... you know, dead the entire time. Peter has really put me in my feels 😭!

MIles's parents definitely know what they're doing. You know that little look they shared... they see it. When I was writing that part I was thinking how they probably talked about reader's reaction later that night, and you know they definitely noticed reader didn't return to the party!

Miguel in normal clothes had me giggling and kicking my feet, not even going to lie lmao and the arm veins... I died. He sounded so cozy and huggable and hot and - I could go on but I'll be here all night and this man already lives rent free in my mind 24/7, I should probably not let it show online!

Their interaction in this chapter made me so happy even though I feel a little conflicted about it! I think we know by now reader is more open to having these moments and conversations but for Miguel this is much harder and him asking reader to stay for dinner was a big moment. I was worried it might be too quick of a move on his part but at the same time, in my head at least, Miguel is comfortable with reader even though he doesn't show it all the time, if that makes sense? So yeah, I was a little conflicted but I hope it didn't feel too out of character for him. And anon, I feel so sad for Miguel, too. I just want him to catch a break... and be happy.

And haha, the holographic trees were fun to think about! I actually did research on the comics to see if that was a thing but found nothing, so I just went with the idea lol thank you for showing it some love!!

And the end! I was going to go with what you said, reader just going home but - as I said - I was feeling emotional (thanks period) and selfish and didn't want to think of Miguel all alone on Christmas, so I decided to change the ending at the last minute and hoped it was still a believable thing our Miguel would do, which lowkey, I feel like Miguel would be okay with since he's realized reader is his friend now.

And please, don't thank me for responding to your asks!! As I said before, they always make my day!! I appreciate your thoughts and support very much🥹, so never hesitate to send them!

Now... back to the art... you cannot just drop that and expect me to be okay, anon!! If it's not too much to ask, would you mind sharing what parts have inspired you? I wish I could see and admire your art but I know you may not be comfortable with that, so I'd be happy just knowing the parts that inspired you, which I also want to add makes my heart leap with happiness!! It's an honor that the story has inspired you to draw fanart, truly!! ❤️ And I get what you mean by it being a problem! I recently got into drawing because of... Miguel. I'm in so deep, I don't think anyone can help me because I'm out here trying to learn and all I've drawn has been his face and eyes specifically (THEY ARE SO PRETTY!), so anon, I feel you. Miguel has so many of us on a chokehold, it's not funny!!

Thank you, as always, for the lovely words anon! I hope you don't mind the super long response. I appreciate you very much and hope you have a wonderful day/night!! ✨✨✨

-Alondra

[bingoboingobongo]

collision

Pairing: Peter Parker (The Amazing Spiderman) x Reader

Type: Fluff

Summary: Peter almost knocks you down a flight of stairs, and then he offers a proposal you just can’t say no to.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: theft, lack of sleep

A/N: hiii, welp today’s a day for new things ig. i literally wrote this in like two hours and managed to not write over 5k words (unheard of) and i’m using second person for something that’s not a hc???. anyways DON’T QUOTE ME but i might make a part two (or maybe a mini-series we’ll see). as always, likes/reblogs/comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated, thx :)

Masterlist

At first you thought you were just delirious. You hadn’t gotten much sleep recently — what with your noisy roommate who refused to wear earbuds and your ever-increasing list of homework assignments and essays. You had begun supplementing your lack of energy with caffeine and while you knew it wasn’t the smartest option, you didn’t think it would make you hallucinate. Besides, it wasn’t like you were pulling consecutive all-nighters, you were still able to get some sleep on the hard library tables.

Which is why it didn’t make sense for this to be happening. The entire situation seemed laughable, but you were too stressed and this felt too catastrophic for you to find humor in it. You tried to make your legs move, maybe this was your imagination, and once you reengaged with reality everything would go back to how it was supposed to be.

And yet here you stood, just a few steps outside your university’s lecture halls, staring at the patch of sidewalk where your bike had resided just an hour and a half ago. Everyone had warned you of the dangers of owning a bike on campus, your parents, your friends, heck even the tour guide on your first day of classes. You had done everything in your power to prevent your bike from getting stolen — you even splurged on what was supposed to be an extra secure lock to keep your bike safe while you were in classes. But how the hell were you supposed to prevent this?

You probably would have stood in front of the building for hours if someone didn’t crash into you, sending you nearly face first down the steps before he managed to catch your wrist. “Oh shoot— sorry.” You heard the stranger say, not recognizing the voice. You twisted around and it took a moment for you to recognize him; you weren’t used to seeing him so up close. Frankly, you weren’t really used to seeing him at all, considering that he usually sat behind you in class.

You tried to remember his name, but he never talked much and you were too busy with school to bother getting to know everyone in your class. “Peter?” you guessed, cringing at how unsure you sounded. You heard a breath catch in his throat, and you were suddenly aware of how close the two of you were. His hand was still clutching onto your wrist; his skin felt rough and calloused, and you wondered how they got that way. The two of you were teetering on the edge of the step, forcing you to press your body against him, lest you want to topple down the stairs and probably end up with a nasty concussion. You could feel his breath fan across your face — which smelled like spearmint — and you prayed that he couldn’t feel how rapidly your pulse was beating.

“Uhm, sorry,” you said awkwardly, peeling yourself away from him and finding residence on the step below him. “Standing on the edge of a bunch of stairs probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do.” You gave him a sheepish smile, darting your eyes away from his when you saw how he was staring at you. “Anyways, I should probably go, that 4,000 word essay Professor Specklehorn assigned us isn’t gonna write itself,” you said, letting out a half-hearted chuckle at your petty attempt at humor. 

You figured that would be enough for the brunette to let go of your wrist, which was hanging limply in his vice-like grip, and yet he still wouldn’t let go, instead continuing to stare blankly at you. You should probably have been freaked out by this, and maybe you should’ve pulled out your pepper spray by now, but for some reason you didn’t feel scared.

The atmosphere between you two felt thick and tense, as if there was some sordid past between the two of you filled with years of history and feelings for each other. It didn’t make sense though, because you had never even really met Peter before today, and you definitely didn’t notice the tiny flecks of light brown in his dark eyes or the sharp points of his canines that were just barely visible behind those sultry pink lips.

You froze. Why the hell was your mind going there? You had more important things than crushing on some random junior in your American Literature class who probably spent more time sleeping in class than actually reading. You had an essay to write and homework to complete and a stupid police report to file for your stolen bike. You couldn’t keep standing here, getting lost in some stranger’s eyes as the sun went down.

“I really have to go now,” you repeated, taking a step backwards and trying to tug your wrist away from him. He kept staring at you though, and for a moment you wondered if he had suddenly had a stroke or something. You waved your free hand in front of his face, trying to catch his attention, and then suddenly he was like a toy soldier sprung into life.

“I— Oh my god. I’m— I— I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he fumbled, tripping over his words as they rushed out of his mouth. You were almost shocked by his sudden change of demeanor, and you tried to ignore the hurt that rose inside of your chest when he dropped your wrist hurriedly, like it had burned him. “God I—” he started again, rubbing his hand against his face, “I— I don’t even know what I was doing. I was trying to run back to my dorm. It was stupid. I should’ve been looking where I was going.”

You watched him struggle to explain himself, and you had to tamp down a chuckle that threatened to spill out. It wasn’t that you thought he was embarrassing or anything; endearing was the word you would use. Who knew the sleepyhead in class could be so full of bashful charm?

“It’s fine,” you told him, and you had to repeat it a few times before he actually heard you. “It’s my fault too, I was standing right in front of the doors, I should’ve moved or something.”

Peter didn’t say anything, and you didn’t either. Suddenly the atmosphere became stiflingly awkward as the two of you stared at each other, neither one knowing what to say.

“I should—” you started.

“You usually—” he said at the same time. 

“I— Sorry, you go ahead,” you said, gesturing for him to continue.

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was just gonna say, you usually bike to your dorms right? I’ve seen you a few times this year.”

You took in a sharp breath, “Actually, I have to walk home today. Some douche took the bike rack.”

Peter paused, and you figured his face was probably identical to the one you had made just minutes earlier. “The bike rack? Like, the thing that holds the bikes? The whole thing?” he asked, his voice dripping with incredulity.

You chuckled, which ended up turning into a delirious school-girl giggle. “Yup,” you said, shrugging your shoulders, “an hour and a half ago there was a bike rike right next to that trash can and now there’s not. I don’t know how they did it, but somewhere out there some guy is probably enjoying a few stolen bikes and a free bike rack.”

Peter looked over to where you had pointed, and you watched his mouth gape open when he noticed the absence of the metal rack. You couldn’t help but giggle again, which felt wrong for some reason, but the sensation washed over you and you couldn’t do anything about it. Peter began to join in too, and the two of you stood in front of the building, giggling over a stolen bike rack like you were children.

Your eyes began to tear up from laughing so much, and you tried to take a deep breath to steady yourself. “Oh my god,” you cried, wiping your eyes, “I’m sorry, I just haven’t slept in like forever so I guess the deliriousness is finally getting to me.”

“Yeah I saw you passed out at the library last night, I was wondering how much sleep you were getting,” he remarked, and you paused, suddenly embarrassed. What if you were an ugly sleeper? What if you were snoring? What if you were drooling? And furthermore, why the hell did you care so much what he thought of you? “Don’t worry,” he said, sensing your turmoil, “you looked just like every other sleep deprived college student here, which is to say perfectly fine.”

You let out a sigh, “Well that’s a relief. At least I won’t have to worry about embarrassing myself when I’m sleeping anymore.”

“Why were you sleeping at the library anyways?” he asked. “I mean, shouldn’t you have a dorm you can go to?”

You groaned, “I wish. My stupid roommate read somewhere that listening to music on earbuds is bad for you or something, so she’s completely boycotted them. And that would be fine, right? Except she listens to the loudest, god-awful music all night long, and as soon as I think she’s done she’ll start playing some random lecture at the highest volume. God, I just want one night where I can fall asleep to the hum of air conditioning and not the faint sobs of students crying in the back of an organic chemistry lecture.”

Peter chuckled at that, and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at humoring him. “Hey, if you want, you can stay at my place,” he offered. “My roommate dropped out at the beginning of the year so I have an empty bed.” You sucked in a breath, staring at him tentatively. “If it helps, I’m a big fan of earbuds and I don’t snore,” he added, eliciting a sheepish grin from you.

You sighed. What you were about to do felt wrong. It felt like it was going to lead to something more, and you weren’t sure if you wanted that. But you were tired. And you really hated your roommate’s music, so despite the protests of your logical mind, you said, “That’d be great. Where’s your dorm?”

[yourmcu]

Emotional Support Mode

Pairings: Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary:

in which the reader is the loner, antisocial daughter of Tony Stark and the other Avengers including her father never acknowledge her presence (they thought some sort of interaction made you uncomfortable) so she becomes friends with Friday instead - Tony probs finds out and it’s gonna be all cute n fluffie once he realizes -

Word count: 2,243

a/n: hi just wanted to write fluffy tony :)) also I used they/them for friday’s pronouns

Warnings: angst n fluff, friday’s a bit more advanced (not like they aren’t already but) bc they could almost act like a literal human here.

read it on ao3!

You arrive back at the Avengers facility, shoulders slumped and just tired in general since you have a lot of homework and projects to do from school, most of them due by the end of the week. You also have exams later in the week.

“Hey, Fri,” you huff as you make your way to the elevator.

“Welcome home, Y/N. Where do you want to go?”

Yes, you're very close with the A.I that they started calling you by your first name. “To my room - and uh, will you remind me to read two chapters in my history book after I’m done with all my homework? I also have this project, I just need some measurements later, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thank you.”

It’s going to be a long night, you sigh heavily just thinking about it. Now you’re probably wondering, ‘you live with the Avengers! Why don’t you ask Tony and Bruce for help? Maybe Steve and Bucky for your History test?’

Yeah, well... you barely talk to any real person you live with. Maybe it’s you, you always thought you're making the team uncomfortable. You don’t even talk to your own father often which is kind of depressing on your part.

You love them, they’re like your extended family, but it just isn’t working out. Maybe they just don’t like you. Up to this day you still wonder why Tony took you in when you were just a baby (you were a mistake from one of his one night stands) - he had the choice not to.

“I’m assuming you zoned out again. You have arrived to your room five minutes ago.” Friday announces.

“Y-yeah sorry,” you shuffle out of the elevator and swiftly head to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“I also asked if I should inform Mr. Stark that you have arrived home.”

“No, no thanks. He’s busy and... probably wouldn’t care anyway,” You mutter the last part as you pile the books you need on your desk. “Can you put my study playlist on, please?”

----

“What time is it, Friday?”

“7PM. I was about to remind you to take a break.”

You get up from your chair and stretch, halfway through the last of your homework which is a two page essay. “You’re too kind, thanks pal,” when you walk out your room to head to the kitchen and grab a snack, the lounge is empty, kitchen empty,

“The team’s on a mission? I thought they had the whole week off,” you say before gulping down a water bottle.

“I checked the security footage: they left about an hour ago. Captain Rogers was talking about getting dinner.”

You put the bottle down. “Oh,” you try to mask your disappointment. This isn’t your first time being alone, they always left you here when they had a mission of course but... well, it’s not like they want you around them. “I’ll - I’ll just make myself something later, then. Not a big deal. I have to study anyway.”

Another hour later, the Avengers are back. They're all conversing happily as they pile in the lounge. Peter's rambling about upgrades for the Spiderman suit while Tony's typing away in his phone, nodding at everything he says. Everyone else is arguing about the TV channels and talking about the new restaurant they ate at.

Rhodey shifts, looking around. “Why do I feel like we forgot something?”

Natasha looks at him, waiting for him to go on.

“I assure you, I brought Mjolnir with me this time.” Thor butts in.

“No not that, what time does Y/N get home from school?” No one answers. It’s not like any of them know. It's natural that Rhodey would be worried about his goddaughter (even if they rarely talk). He turns his head to his best friend who’s now walking away with Peter, an arm around his shoulder. “Tony, where’s Y/N?”

He doesn’t hear since he has his full attention on his protégé.

“I’ll start making this tomorrow, I guess. I still have to buy materials.” You mumble to yourself, but you hope Friday's listening to everything you say just to make you feel less lonely. You swipe the hologram of the blueprint away and place the thick books in front of you.

“I would like to recommend a suitable study plan.” they state.

You rub your eyes, sighing, “I’m already halfway, I would’ve considered it earlier though.”

“This is only a recommendation, feel free to ignore it.”

You push yourself away from the desk and mutter a “go on,”, fiddling with your pen.

“Asking Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes would give you more details for your History examination, since the pair were originally from that time period. The same goes for Mr. Banner for your Science examination, I believe he has seven Ph.D’s, you may also approach Vision for the same topic. Mr. Stark has all the necessary materials for your project in his lab. Would you like me to-”

If only it were that easy. It should be easy, the thought alone makes you really nervous. “No, I - I appreciate the recommendation, Friday, but - I think I can do this on my own.”

“But you’re tired and it is almost midnight. I would help you myself but you specifically told me not to.”

They’re not wrong. Your eyes are starting to droop and you barely understand anything you're reading. You're also fighting back tears - why is talking to your family so hard?

“I can sense sadness. Would you like me to activate emotional support mode?”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds great right about now.”

----

“Crap. Guess we lost track of time again, kid,” Tony wipes his hands with a rag while he looks at the time on his computer. “You better get home. I’ll send May a text for keeping you this late.”

“Okay, thank you Mr. Stark. I’m just gonna use my suit-”

“No. Happy will drive you.”

Peter knew better than to argue and insist so he just nods and smiles sheepishly. A minute later Happy came ‘round to take him home.

Tony turns back around. “Friday, make a new project for me please, I’m adding minor upgrades to the Spiderman suit.”

“Not now, boss.”

Oh. He did not expect that. “Excuse me?”

“Y/N is currently opening up. I would like to give her my full, undivided attention. Please come back after fifteen minutes or so.”

Tony doesn’t exactly know how to feel about that. He never sees her outside her room anymore that he kinda forgot she existed tonight - oh fuck, they didn’t bring her to dinner with them.

“Well,” he exhales. “What is she saying?”

“That would be an invasion of privacy.”

“I’m her father-”

“Are you, sir?” Friday’s clever remark makes him stop abruptly.

It’s pretty clear that he’s been a shit father. Not only does he ignore you all the time but he treats Peter way better than his own flesh and blood. The Avengers on the other hand, they were nice people, but just didn’t understand so they try their best to get out of your way.

You were afraid of rejection, afraid to interact, because you had no idea what everyone thought of you. Did they like you? Did you make them uncomfortable? Did they want you around? What about Tony, did he really want a daughter in his life? Because you noticed he’d be better off with a son, yeah, like Peter goddamn Parker.

Tony sighs, walking out of his lab and heads to the mini bar to grab a drink. He needs to think: there's absolutely nothing wrong about you, he just didn’t do his job right, you thought he didn’t care, you thought nobody did. Even Friday is turning against him, doing a better job of comforting and being there for you.

“God, I’m such an asshole,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead. He drinks his last shot and heads to the kitchen. “She still awake?” He calls out.

“She is.” Friday has a bitter tone.

He's hesitant to ask again, feeling really bad for not knowing this simple question - “what’s her favorite beverage?”

----

“How do you feel?”

You sniffle. “Well y’know, better than before. I should probably go to sleep. Thanks, Fri.”

“You’re welcome. Also, Mr. Stark is outside your door.”

“W-what?” You put away your books and straighten up, rubbing your damp eyes. “You’re serious? Okay, uh, let him in?” It's more of a question.

“Alright.”

You turn to face your desk as Tony enters the room, holding two steaming mugs. He sits at the end of your bed, just right next to the chair you're sitting on. “Hi,” he gives you a small smile and hands you a mug.

What’s the occasion?

“What’s this?” You ask quietly before taking the mug from his hands. Tony's being gentle and soft, it's odd but you’re not complaining.

“Green tea with honey. I... I thought I saw you make that stuff once.” He says, not mentioning the fact that Friday told him that.

“Oh, well, yeah,” you take a small sip. He added a bit too much honey but other than that it was good. “I thought you preferred coffee, though,”

Tony shrugs, his eyes glistening when he looks at you. “Wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”

“Did - did you want something, Dad?” You always found yourself awkward, couldn’t even make conversation with someone for long, always wanted to get straight to the point so it could be over with.

He looks like he wants to say something but he just averts his gaze to you, his hands, the floor, then suddenly he leans in and hugs you. Your feel your heart swell and body warm up, it’s a new sensation for you after all, you rarely get hugs from people. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For everything. I’m such a bad dad, I don’t deserve you. I even forgot you when we went out to dinner.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything. I had loads of stuff to do earlier anyway, so, but yeah I was just - I just overreact, I’m sensitive. I don’t blame you and the others for not liking me, I know there’s nothing like-able about me, I’m not like Peter-” You ramble, tears now leaving your eyes again.

“Sweetheart, don’t say that,” Tony says as he pulls you closer to him, head resting against his chest while he rubs your back comfortably. “Y/N Stark, you are smart, brilliant - I was just an ass for not acknowledging that.”

“I know you’re just saying that to-”

“Oh, but I’m not,” he now places his hands on your shoulders, getting you to look at him. “Tell me who built their first engine when they were eight?”

You blush, “Dad-”

“No, come on, I wanna hear it.”

“I did.”

“Yes you did. And who made a completely functioning robot at their middle school science fair that blew all the teacher’s minds?”

You’re trying to hide a smile, recalling the memory,  “I did.”

“And who,” Tony gets up and walks to the bulky looking thing that you covered with a sheet, pulling it off, “is currently building a computer from scratch?”

“Dad! That’s still a work in progress,” he messily places the sheet back and chuckles.

“My point is, you’re a clever and talented girl, Y/N. Don’t bring yourself down. And you don’t have to be shy around your family, those idiots have been dying to get to know you but since you don’t talk much... they don’t want to force it. We love you,” he says. “I hope you forgive me ‘cause I really wanna make it up to you. I’m not calling Peter in for a few weeks.” Tony sits down beside you again.

You couldn’t believe he’d do that for you. “You don’t have to, if you need him for something then-”

“-then you could help me instead, if you’re up for it.”

“I’m really sorry for being such a lonely freak,” you yawn, getting back into Tony’s open arms. “I love you.”

Tony tucks you in and lies down beside you, “I love you tons, kiddo.”

You snuggle into his chest, feeling his steady breathing while he rests his chin above your head.

----

It's morning. The Avengers are gathered at your open bedroom door.

“Are you getting all of this, Friday?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Steve turn that shuttering sound down!” Natasha hisses at the super soldier who's doing his task, taking pictures.

Steve almost drops the phone and has Bruce fix the volume for him.

They’re all watching you and Tony cuddle together, still fast asleep.

“Do we have to stay here until they wake up?”

“Unless you have a great way of waking them up, yes. Now shut up.”

“If you think about it we definitely look creepy right now.” Sam comments.

“It’s their fault for having the door wide open all night!” Clint says.

Tony's actually awake the whole time, listening to them bickering. “You have three seconds to get the hell out of here before I make all of you polish my suits.” With that, the team races down the hall, pushing each other to get away first like literal children.

[ptergwen]

call me cupid

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: very mild angst and a few swears

summary: despite your hatred for valentine’s day, peter attempts to make you a card

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves!! i hope y’all get to spend some time with your people today and eat lots of chocolate <3 love you & enjoy mwah

-

it’s no secret that peter is terrible with words. he gets so flustered he can’t talk or forgets what he wants to say altogether. school presentations are torture. ordering food out is impossible. he’s accepted it at this point, that speaking just isn’t for him.

the one place it doesn’t come across is on paper. peter is ridiculously smart, and he knows all the right words to string together, which is why writing you a valentine should be no trouble at all. should be no trouble at all.

to tell the truth, he’s been sitting at his kitchen table with a blank sheet of paper in front of him for what feels like hours. nothing is coming to him. he’s not sure why this is so hard. you’re his girlfriend, he loves you, he’s said it so many times in every way he could think to. what’s different about it now?

everyone puts way too much pressure on giving the perfect gift when they should really just be enjoying each other’s company on a holiday about love. or, in your words, a meaningless holiday that was created by capitalists as another excuse to take people’s money. 

alright, you aren’t too fond of valentine’s day.

it makes anyone who’s single feel like shit and anyone who’s in a relationship lose their shit.

only mj agreed when you shared your criticisms. ned and betty gave you looks like you were insane, and flash muttered something about you being undateable. peter had laughed and swung an arm around your shoulders, but he didn’t fully agree.

although valentine’s day has its flaws, peter likes to see it as twenty four hours of extra appreciation for the people in his life. you can buy chocolate for your friends and family. it doesn’t have to be a significant other, really. him and ned would do it before he had you and ned had betty.

peter wants to remind you how loved you are even if you’re not into the festivities like he is, that bringing him to writing your card. it’s a simple and clinically underrated way of expressing his gratitude. he’d write you love letters every day if he didn’t suck at them.

may comes out of her room to see peter in the same place he’s been since he got home from school. she looks at him through her glasses, smiling as she comes into the room. he’s tapping his pencil on the table, eraser down, searching his mind for anything to write.

“still nothing?” may asks him, making her way over to the cabinets. peter puts down the pencil and sighs. his shoulders slump. “nope. i haven’t gotten past the intro.” “intro, huh?” she teases her newphew and grabs a jar of sauce. “y/n isn’t your teacher, kiddo. you’re not writing her an essay.” she looks at peter over her shoulder. a sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“you know what i mean.” he reads over the only words on his paper at the moment. dear y/n. he’s starting to feel like spongebob the one time he wrote a paper. “what are you making?” peter asks may so he can temporarily take the focus off his unwritten valentine. “pasta,” may shakes the box in her hand. “and meatballs.”

“should i dial 911 now or wait until we’re in flames?” peter jokes about her awful cooking skills. may shoos him off and puts the box of pasta on the counter. “worry about your own kitchen nightmare.” she nods at the sheet of paper tormenting him. frowning, he glances back at her. “i’m the worst, may. i really don’t know what to write.”

may struggles to open the jar of sauce as she replies. “i thought you said- jesus.” it pops off. “y/n doesn’t like valentine’s day.” she slides over a pot from the stove and dumps the sauce in. peter stares up at the ceiling. “she doesn’t.” that’s probably why he’s having such a hard time. “why are you writing her a card, then?” may questions, turning on a burner.

“because, i dunno, it’s nice? it’ll make her happy? she might not care, but i do.” he mumbles the last part. he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, so he hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea you had of not getting each other presents. you’re treating it like a regular day. some takeout and cuddles is all you’re doing.

peter would rather buy you things until his pockets are empty. not that there’s much in them, anyway. the point is that you deserve proper spoiling instead of corny words in his shitty handwriting.

“peter, honey. it might be better to stick with what y/n wants,” may suggests while stirring the sauce in the pot. she’s well aware that a few paragraphs from peter won’t change your mind. your opinions belong to you, and there’s nothing he can do about it, though he does have good intentions.

ignoring what may just said, peter makes a request. “what if you help me write it?” she faces the stove again. he can picture her playful smile when she quirks back, “she’s not my girlfriend.” “no, but you’re a girl... a woman,” he corrects himself, earning a scoff from may. “you’d probably know what sounds good.”

“you know y/n better than me, peter. do it on your own,” she exhales and turns back around with the wooden spoon in her hand. “it’ll be more... heartfelt.” peter hates that may is right because he’s completely stuck. his heart is being stupid today. “okay. i’ll try.” he gives her a slow nod. “why don’t you take a break? come stir the sauce. i’ll start the pasta.”

peter gets up from the table and grabs the spoon from may. she pinches his cheek on her way to the sink, getting a tight lipped smile from him.

this is not good.

-

the next day at school, peter asks around the lunch table for advice while you’re on line getting food. he feels guilty about it because may told him not to. he’s never going to get your valentine done if he doesn’t, though. it isn’t the worst thing in the world to bring on some co-writers.

“ok, what do you have so far?” betty asks, fully invested in the situation. she’s hoping this will switch up your views on valentine’s day. peter pulls out the same piece of paper from last night and says verbatim what’s on it. “dear y/n.” he looks up at ned and betty, the corners of his mouth twitching down. ned motions with his hand for peter to go on.

“that’s it,” peter confesses and folds the paper back up in shame. “dude, you told us it was a work in progress,” ned winces, betty taking his hand that’s resting on her shoulder. “where’s the progress?” betty patronizes him. they’re making him feel worse than he already did. what great co-writers he’s collaborating with.

peter throws a hand up, an eye roll included. “yeah, it’s terrible. can you help me or not?” mj narrows her own eyes at peter from the other end of his bench. she’s not interested in participating when the conversation is about forcing you to celebrate a holiday you don’t like.

“ooh!” betty squeals and squeezes ned’s hand. “you should make a list.” ned grins, leaning his head on hers. “genius, babe.” “a list of what?” peter furrows his eyebrows as he looks between the two of them. “what you love about y/n,” she explains, ned adding on, “stuff you do together, or you appreciate.”

“put whatever you come up with into sentences and voilà,” betty says in her best french accent. “oui oui,” ned agrees, both of them giggling. that doesn’t sound half bad. peter could manage a list about you. “thank you so much, guys. you literally just saved valentine’s day,” he confidently tucks his paper into his pocket. “it’s what we do,” ned tells him coolly.

“you never asked what i think,” mj cuts in, staring down her friends, who reluctantly meet her gaze. she pushes her bag of goldfish aside and raises an eyebrow. “mj, we know how you feel about valentine’s day.” peter presses his lips together. “y/n feels the same way,” mj reminds him dryly.

it’s true, but he doesn’t want to hear that right now. he’s having a breakthrough.

like clockwork, you appear at the table. you slip into the spot next to peter and put down your lunch tray. “what’d i miss?” you comment on the obvious tension, eyeing betty for an explanation. mj gives it to you. “valentine’s day discourse,” she tells you knowingly. peter shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, like he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

he technically has.

“yuck,” you murmur, winding your arms around peter’s neck. “yuck, yuck, yuck.” he finds your words ironic because you then kiss his cheek, and peck his lips when he turns his head. peter puts a hand on your side and lets his eyes go up and down your face. a smile spreads across it, which he returns without thinking about. mj huffs in disapproval. she’s seen enough pda.

-

peter makes his list later that night. he decided he isn’t being inauthentic because he’s coming up with everything himself. he breezes right through it, jotting down what he loves most about you across the paper. it’s a mess. scribbled out misspellings and shreds of eraser, single words and whole phrases covering both sides. he’s proud of his actual progress.

he’ll write the official letter tomorrow since you’re coming over tonight. he at least has his material. the next, thankfully final, step is to reword it.

you’re ranting to peter about some drama with one of your teachers. he listens intently as always, chuckling when you crack jokes and grinning the entire time, feeling so lucky to have the most passionate, say whatever is on her mind girlfriend ever. seriously, it’s inspiring to watch.

“no, like, i never know what’s going on in that class,” you snort, peter snaking his arms around your middle from behind. “because you don’t pay attention,” he hums with his face nuzzled into the back of your neck. “because it doesn’t make any sense!” you defend yourself. his lips brush against your bare skin, drawing a giggle out of you.

“back to what i was saying,” your voice drips with sarcasm. the two of you naturally gravitate to his room, you walking in first. “she called on me, and i- what’s this?” you escape peter’s arms and head over to his desk. crap, he was working on your valentine and forgot to put it away. it caught your attention because it’s surrounded by crumpled papers and glitter.

peter was... experimenting... with designs for the front of the card. he’s learned that he isn’t too artistic either.

“wait, don’t read that,“ peter tries, but you’ve already got the list in your hands. he anxiously sucks his lower lip into his mouth and comes to stand next to you.

you first see the ‘dear y/n,’ then focus in on a few other words. my person forever, which makes you coo at the paper. insane (in the best way), which makes you gasp dramatically. i know you don’t like valentine’s day, but...

you drop the card back on the desk and let out a breath, shutting your eyes as irritation creeps in. it wouldn’t be fair for you to be mad at peter because it’s a sweet gesture, it really is. just, not for you personally. you’re on opposite sides of the valentine’s spectrum. you despise it, he sort of loves it. you’d hoped to meet somewhere in the middle.

“i thought we said no gifts,” you keep your voice level and spin around to look at peter. his face is painted with guilt. “it’s a card,” he murmurs, then meets your eyes with his brows knitted together. “i can’t even give you a card?” “i mean...” you shrug and shake your head. “look, peter. we had an agreement. i’m not doing valentine’s day.”

his disappointment comes out in the form of hanging his head. “yeah, you’re right. sorry.”

may tried to tell him this would happen, mj tried to tell him, and now you’re telling him. he should’ve expected it. he isn’t sure why he’s being so mopey about it because he was fully aware of your hatred for anything with the word valentine in it. it still hurts. peter just wishes you’d let him have the one day to love you and only you, give you some special attention.

“it’s nothing against you, babe,” you reassure him, noticing the shift in his mood. you put a hand on his shoulder. “i really just don’t like valentine’s day. it feels so... fake to me.” peter musters up a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. it drops when you loop your arms around his torso.

“if i celebrated, you’d be the first person i’d wanna spend it with.” you punctuate your words with a kiss to his cheek. he rests his chin on your head, you nuzzling your own cheek into his sweater. he’s feeling a bit better now. it’s not about him, that’s what he needs to remind himself. “thanks, baby,” peter speaks lowly into the air. you hum as if to say no problem.

scratch literally everything he’s done.

-

peter rolls over in his bed, rubbing at his eyes as his alarm goes off. it’s today. happy valentine’s day to... himself. he doesn’t think you’d want to hear it.

he’s not as broken up about everything as the other day. you have your reasons for not celebrating, and peter accepts them. hey, he still gets to spend the whole day with you. you’re technically having an unspoken valentine’s date.

he gets up from his bed with a yawn and starts to dig through his drawers for an outfit. you should be over soon.

before you head over to peter’s, you decide to make a quick stop at cvs for a few things. you ended up feeling pretty terrible about snapping on him essentially for loving you. it was over a harmless valentine, something to make you feel good and be an outlet for the hundreds of romantic bones in his body. basically, you were bitter about having a thoughtful boyfriend.

you want to make it up to him by giving him gifts instead. you’ll never be down with the whole exploitive and capitalistic side of valentine’s day, but there’s a deeper meaning to it than what you give it credit for. you see that now. peter was able to show his love for you through a homemade mess of a card, and you felt it. the price tags don’t matter. the meaning does.

dressed in his nicest sweater with his hair all styled, peter answers your knocking at his door. a grin instantly paints his face as he takes you in. you’re bundled up in a coat and holding a bag by your side. “hey,” he greets you and lets you past him. you shut the door behind him, returning the smile and winding an arm around his neck for a hug. his drapes around your back.

“hey. happy valentine’s day.” “happy valentine’s-“ peter realizes what he’s about to say and what you just said, then stops himself. “what?” he breaks the hug, squinting at your odd behavior. you’re the last person he’d expected to hear that from. “it’s valentine’s day. so, happy valentine’s day,” you tell him like it’s nothing.

he stays quiet while you shrug off your coat and throw it over one of the kitchen chairs. you bring your bag along with you, peter following you in. he’s suspicious. intrigued, and suspicious. it’s been less than a day since he last say you. you had a change of heart that fast? you aren’t the biggest valentine’s day anti he knows anymore?

“where’s may?” you wonder aloud, taking both of peter’s hands in your now free ones. he eyes the shopping bag you put down while you lace your fingers together. “with happy. they’re getting brunch.” he’s never particularly psyched to talk about their relationship. it’s always been in a joking way, though. now, he sounds genuinely upset to go over may’s whereabouts.

“they’re so cute,” you comment, tugging on peter’s hands so he looks at you. “you good?” “great,” peter half lies and nods, then presses a reassuring kiss to your cheek. he’s not bad. puzzled is the word. what you say next only adds to it.

“good. i have a few things for you,” you beam at him and grab your shopping bag off the chair. that’s what that’s for? peter isn’t fully sure what you’re up to. it doesn’t stop a smile from stretching across his lips, though.

“what happened to no presents?” he tests you as you reach into the bag. “well, i feel bad about how i acted the other day.” you pull out a heart shaped box of chocolates. “the card was really sweet, and i was too caught off guard to appreciate it. i’m sorry, pete.” peter’s eyes twinkle at you, gazing as you give him a smile with a hint of shyness behind it. you’re leaving your comfort zone and entering his.

“i was wrong and cynical and just, yeah. happy valentine’s day,” you add on and shove the box into his hand. he finally grins, so wide and then lets out a breathy laugh. “thanks, y/n. i know it was probably hard to shop being surrounded by this stuff.” he holds up the box. he’s right. you’ll unfortunately be seeing pink and red for weeks. “it was, but i did it for you.” you happily open up your arms for him.

peter puts down the chocolates and pulls you into his arms, his cheek squished against the side of your head as he hugs you to his chest. “oh my god, i love you so much,” he mumbles out, you squeezing him in response. “i love you, pete.” you press a quick kiss to his neck and hold him at arm’s length so you can see him. “i have something else for you.”

“baby,” peter coos, a pout on his lips. “you don’t have to do all of this. i would’ve been fine without the chocolates, even.” “stop, you deserve it,” you shut down the part of him that’s way too nice and selfless. “you’re my real present,” he says lower and with a toothy smile. shaking your head, you reach behind you and into the bag.

he can’t believe you’ve switched stances on valentine’s day. you’re the present pusher, and he’s refusing them. peter thinks it’s some sort of miracle that you’re not only acknowledging the holiday, you’re also partaking in it. his hopeless romantic side tells him it’s actually love, and it is. that’s the cheesy, hallmark movie truth. you suffered through shopping at a heart themed cvs because you love him. simple.

you return with a pink envelope that you place into peter’s hand. his face softens as he closes his fingers around it. “y/n, you made me a card?” “kind of,” you laugh at his overstatement. it’s obviously pre-made. you’d used a pen to fill it out in the store, scribbled a few words and tucked it into the envelope.

“it really doesn’t compare to yours, though,” you simultaneously warn and compliment him. peter dismisses you with a lighthearted click of his tongue. “oh, shush. that was only a rough draft.” “which proves my point even more. open it.” you grip onto the bottom of his sweater and grin.

he keeps his eyes on you while ripping open the envelope, then looks down and chuckles at the gag of the card. it has r2d2 and r4d4 from star wars on the front. inside is already written, “r4 is red and r2 is blue. if i was the force then i’d be with you.” you giggle to yourself, watching him read what you wrote next. i love you more every day, especially on valentine’s. xo, y/n.

peter holds the card to his side and slings an arm around your waist. “they make star wars valentines?” he murmurs, another smile breaking out on his face, one that you of course return. you use his sweater to pull him closer. “apparently. perfect for you.” peter tosses the card down next to the chocolates, both arms now holding you.

“thank you so much, baby. you’re an angel,” he sighs and pecks your lips after. “call me cupid,” you answer.

you give him a longer kiss back, tilting your head up to deepen it. your hands find their place on his biceps, earning a hum from peter as he moves his lips against yours. you can feel his love in every little movement, how he hugs your waist like you’re made of glass, rests his forehead against yours. when your lips mutually detach, peter speaks first, voice slightly husky.

“happy valentine’s day, cupid.”

you breathe out, peter closing his eyes in content.

“happy valentine’s day, r2.”

[marshmallowgoop]

So, I got to see The Shape of Water over the weekend, and there is so much I have to say (and boy will I go off in an inevitably super long, spoiler-free review). 

But, like. The main thing?

I really wanna see it again.

[luthienne]

Hi dear, do you have any good words on emotional courage?

hi my love, you can check out this post and this post; here are a few more:

“I know a lot about pain… and I know it is bad for people, eats away the spirit, but how about courage, what is it for if not to use when needed?”

Martha Gellhorn, Selected Letters 

“This is in the end the only kind of courage that is required of us: the courage to face the strangest, most unusual, most inexplicable experiences that can meet us.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet 

“You don’t realize it, perhaps, but you are turning these delusions and illusions of the past into criminal things. Relinquish everything. Stay in bed until you feel so shock full of energy, hope, courage that you bounce out of abed. You can only aid the world–if you still believe the world needs our individual aid–by retaining your faith in life. Your body may be weak, but I know you still have wings.”

Henry Miller, A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller

“I… want to inherit the witch in my women ancestors—the willfulness, the passion, ay, the passion where all good art comes from as women, the perseverance, the survivor skills, the courage, the strength of las mujeres bravas, peleoneras, necias, berrrinchudas. I want to be una brava, una peleonera, necia, nerrinchuda. I want to be bad if bad means I must go against society—el Papá, el Pápa, the boyfriend, lover, husband, girlfriend, comadres—and listen to my own heart, that incredible witch’s broom that will take me where I need to go.”

Sandra Cisneros, A House of My Own

“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.”

Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

“Many people seem to think it foolish, even superstitious, to believe that the world could still change for the better. And it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, ‘What do I care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now.’ Yes, evil often seems to surpass good. But then, in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes at last an end to the bitter frosts. One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.”

Vincent van Gogh, The Letters of Vincent van Gogh

“In the winter I am writing about, there was much darkness. Darkness of nature, darkness of event, darkness of the spirit. The sprawling darkness of not knowing. We speak of the light of reason. I would speak here of the darkness of the world, and the light of———. But I don’t know what to call it. Maybe hope. Maybe faith, but not a shaped faith—only, say, a gesture, or a continuum of gestures. But probably it is closer to hope, that is more active, and far messier than faith must be. Faith, as I imagine it, is tensile, and cool, and has no need of words. Hope, I know is a fighter and a screamer.”

Mary Oliver, Winter Hours: Prose, Poems, and Prose Poems

“There is always some miracle left; and though miracles do not happen, they might happen. Who knows? Perhaps our intelligence, our instinct, our senses, in spite of their daylight clearness, are leading us astray. Perhaps the one thing needful is just that unreasoning courage which follows hope’s will-o’-the-wisp as it burns…”

Jens Peter Jacobsen, Niels Lyhne

“But if the deepest loss, […] / can be, not just survived, but made into the matter / of hope, made into song, not into a hatchet / to cut off the offending parts, made into poems / then blessed be the end of things, the loss of whatever / secures us blindly and mutely to our lives.”

Julia Alvarez, The Other Side/El Otro Lado

“I run / stumbling, expectant. / Impatience is hopelessly / desperate. Hope / takes time.”

Marie Ponsot, Springing: New and Selected Poems

“How lightly we learn to hold hope, / as if it were an animal that could turn around / and bite your hand. And still we carry it / the way a mother would, carefully, / from one day to the next.”

Danusha Laméris, The Moons of August

“Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month, or a year, it is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.”

Representative John Lewis

“Where does such a force come from? What does it mean? A voice very faint, and inside me, offers a possibility: how shall there be redemption and resurrection unless there has been a great sorrow? And isn’t struggle and rising the real work of our lives?”

Mary Oliver, Winter Hours: Prose, Poems, and Prose Poems

“Don’t forget that apparent impossibility of something is the first sign of its naturalness—in a different world, obviously.

Marina Tsvetaeva, from a letter to Anatoly Steiger

“Grieve. Have / hope.”

Jorie Graham, Swarm

John Berryman, “The Heart is Strange”

“Skin had hope, that what’s skin does. / Heals over the scarred place, makes a road.”

Naomi Shihab Nye, “Two Countries”

“I am quite troubled in the depths of my soul. But that will pass,”

George Sand, in a letter to Gustave Flaubert

“Let’s dance a little before we go home to hell.”

Muriel Rukeyser, A Muriel Rukeyser Reader

Hélène Cixous, Hyperdream (tr. Beverly Bie Brahic)

“That most moments were substantially the same did not detract at all from the possibility that the next moment might be utterly different.”

Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping

Ada Limón, “Dead Stars”

“Listen, everyone has a chance. Is it spring, is it morning? Are there trees near you, and does your own soul need comforting? Quick, then — open the door and fly on your heavy feet…”

Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems

“Get to the bottom of this intensity and have faith in what is most horrible, instead of fighting it off—it reveals itself for those who can trust it, in spite of its overwhelming and dire appearance, as a kind of initiation. By way of loss, by way of such vast and immeasurable experiences of loss, we are quite powerfully introduced to the whole.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Countess Alexandrine Schwerin, June 16, 1922

“…only one thing is urgently needed: to attach oneself with unconditional purpose somewhere to nature, to what is strong, striving and bright, and to move forward without guile, even if that means in the least important, daily matters. Each time we tackle something with joy, each time we open our eyes toward a yet untouched distance we transform not only this and the next moment, but we also rearrange and gradually assimilate the past inside of us.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Adelheid von der Marwitz, September 11, 1919

“Continue to believe that with your feeling and with your work you take part in what is the greatest. The more strongly you cultivate this belief inside of you, the more it will give rise to reality and world.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Elisabeth Freiin Schenk zu Schweinsberg, September 23, 1908

“…I have known with certainty that the worst things, and even despair, are only a kind of abundance and an onslaught of existence that one decision of the heart could turn into its opposite. Where things become truly difficult and unbearable, we find ourselves in a place already very close to its transformation.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Anita Forrer, February 14, 1920

“…he says, it will be all right.

“It is not the saying of an oracle or a prophet. They are words you might speak to a child ... and somehow I am comforted. He does not mean that it does not hurt. He does not mean that we are not frightened. Only that: we are here. This is what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch your feet. This is what it means to be alive.”

Madeline Miller, Circe

“Right then she knows herself even less than she knows the sea. Her courage comes from not knowing herself, but going ahead nevertheless. Not knowing yourself is inevitable, and not knowing yourself demands courage.

Clarice Lispector, Complete Stories; “The Waters of the World”

“Recovery (which includes return and renewal of health) is a re-gaining—regaining of a clear view. I do not say “seeing things as they are” and involve myself with the philosophers, though I might venture to say “seeing things as we are (or were) meant to see them”—as things apart from ourselves. We need, in any case, to clean our windows; so that the things seen clearly may be freed from the drab blur of triteness or familiarity—from possessiveness. Of all faces those of our familiares are the ones both most difficult to play fantastic tricks with, and most difficult really to see with fresh attention, perceiving their likeness and unlikeness: that they are faces, and yet unique faces.”

J.R.R. Tolkien, from his essay On Fairy-Stories

Camille Norton, Corruption: Poems

“Keep busy with survival. Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.”

May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

“I have the fervour of myself for a presence / and my own spirit for light; / and my spirit with its loss / knows this; though small against the black, / small against the formless rocks, / hell must break before I am lost;”

H.D. from Collected Poems; “Eurydice”

Denise Levertov, “Epilogue”

“The days go numb, the wind / sucks the world from your senses like withered leaves. // Through the empty branches the sky remains. / It is what you have. / Be earth now, and evensong. / Be the ground lying under that sky. / Be modest now, like a thing / ripened until it is real…”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from Rilke’s Book of Hours (tr. Anita Barrows, Joanna Macy)

“I know your sorrow and I know that for the likes of us there is not ease for the heart to be had from words of reason and that in the very assurance of sorrow’s fading there is more sorrow. So I offer you only my deeply affectionate and compassionate thoughts and wish for you only that the strange thing may never fail you, whatever it is, that gives us the strength to live on and on with our wounds.”

Samuel Beckett’s words of consolation to his friend, Alan Schneider

“What matters is not to allow my whole life to be dominated by what is going on inside me. That has to be kept subordinate one way or another. What I mean is: one must not let oneself be completely disabled by just one thing, however bad; don’t let it impede the great stream of life that flows through you. I have the feeling of something secret deep inside me that no one knows about.”

Etty Hillesum, from a diary entry featured in An Interrupted Life

“You have been told that, even like a chain, you are as weak as your weakest link. / This is but half the truth. You are also as strong as your strongest link. / To measure you by your smallest deed is to reckon the power of the ocean by the frailty of its foam. / To judge you by your failures is to cast blame upon the seasons for their inconstancy.”

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

“Try to keep what is beautiful to you and what you can use for today and now — You must not let things you cannot help destroy you —”

Georgia O’Keeffe, from Georgia O’Keeffe: Art and Letters

“What we love, shapely and pure, / is not to be held, / but to be believed in.”

Mary Oliver, from Evidence; “Swans”

“In time of the crises of the spirit, we are aware of all our need, our need for each other and our need for ourselves. We call up, with all the strength of summoning we have, our fullness. And then we turn; for it is a turning that we have prepared; and act. The time of turning may be very long. It may hardly exist.”

Muriel Rukeyser, from A Muriel Rukeyser Reader, “The Life of Poetry”

“To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places—and there are so many—where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.” 

Howard Zinn, A Power Governments Cannot Suppress

“But don’t lose heart, dear ones—don’t lose heart. Don’t let it make you bitter. Try to understand. Try to understand. The world’s already bitter enough, we got to try to be better than the world.”

James Baldwin, from Another Country

“You do not have to be good. / You do not have to walk on your knees / for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. / You only have to let the soft animal of your body / love what it loves. / Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. / Meanwhile, the world goes on.”

Mary Oliver, “Wild Geese”

[moonlit-jeno]

snapshot | l.jn

pairing: lee jeno x reader

genre/ warnings: smut, thigh riding, hand jobs, masturbation

words: 2.6k

Jeno is going to pass out.

It’s not because of the lack of sleep he had gotten, the fact that he’s about to miss the deadline for his essay, or because he’s been eating like shit the whole week. It’s not even because of the disgustingly graphic horror movie Renjun had made him watch. It’s because you, his very attractive roommate, have sent him a picture.

Nothing like the normally cute selfies you normally send him, or the ones taken from an awful angle to get a laugh out of him. This one’s sexy. Blue lace just barely covers your breasts, your necklace fitting perfectly in your cleavage. Your lips are parted slightly but they’re swollen, as if you’ve been biting them.

The sheer speed with which all the blood in his body rushes to his cock is fast enough to make him lightheaded almost immediately, and he stares at the picture long enough that it’s permanently ingrained behind his eyelids. Which is a problem. A big, big problem.

He realizes just how big of a problem it is when he gets a hand around his cock, guilt swimming in his stomach as he realizes that he’s about to jerk off to his roommate. His wonderful, lovely roommate who he is friends with. Did he have a mild crush on you? Yes. But your relationship is nothing but strictly platonic. And yet...

Even when he puts his phone away, he can’t stop thinking about that picture. You must’ve sent it to him on accident. Why else would he get that picture?

His phone dings and he opens it, hoping it’s Jaemin asking him to play video games. Lord knows he needs the distraction.

It’s not.

It’s you again. The attachment is a video this time, and holy fuck. The video starts with a shot of your legs, a pair of matching blue panties that just barely cover your pussy. There’s a soft moan, and Jeno’s ears strain to pick up on it.

“I’m so wet for you.” You sigh, letting your fingers slip under the fabric. A gasp leaves you at the feeling and Jeno wishes that he could see what you’re doing, but the fabric blocks his view and he wishes that he could rip it off of you. “God, I wish you were here with me. You’d fuck me so well.”

You move your fingers up to the camera and fuck, you really weren’t lying when you said you were wet. The digits are glistening and Jeno audibly moans. He fucking ascends when you pop the digits in your mouth, moaning around them obscenely. The video ends and yet Jeno is too overwhelmed you process anything, just sits there with his phone in his hand and his eyes glued blankly to his wall.

He can’t stop the images from playing in his mind, but he manages to pull it together enough to come up with a response.

Jeno [11:53pm]

did you mean to send this to me?????

Roomie [11:54pm]

huh

OH HOLY FUCK

NO

IM SO SORRY PLEASE DELETE THOSE

HOLY SHIT

Jeno [11:54pm]

haha it’s okay

i deleted them no worries

Roomie [11:54pm]

im so embarrassed right now

Jeno [11:55pm]

dont be

it happens to the best of us

can i come talk to you or do you need a minute to finish up

Roomie [11:56pm]

asjdhjsksj DID YOU HAVE TO PHRASE IT LIKE THAT

anyways yeah give me a min

Jeno wills his boner to go down and takes a few deep breaths, eventually standing from his chair and making his way down the hall. He bounces on his toes and checks the time. It’s been 3 minutes. Surely you’re ready now?

“Come in!” You yell when he knocks and he timidly lets himself in, shutting the door softly behind him. He can’t help but notice how adorable you look right now, wrapped so tightly in blankets that your face barely peaks out. Jeno notices the hoodie you’re swimming in is his, and it fills him with a strange sense of... something. Pride? Happiness?

“Hey.” He starts, standing awkwardly at the foot of your bed.

You take a moment before repeating the greeting. Neither of you know what to say and a horrible silence fills the room. Your laughter breaks it.

“This is so awkward, holy shit.” You giggle, breaking out of your cocoon a little bit. “I can’t even remember a time where it’s been this bad.”

“It was literally less awkward when we first met and that’s saying something.” Jeno snorts, taking a seat on the edge of the bed when you pat it.

The two of you laugh until it peters out into another silence. You clear your throat. “Uh. So about the, uh, pictures. I’m really sorry, I definitely didn’t mean to send them to you.”

Jeno laughs again, hoping that it doesn’t sound too strained. “Yeah, I kinda figured. It’s no big deal though, I already deleted them.”

“It’s not like I would send you nudes anyways, that’s stupid. I’d show you in person.” Jeno’s eyebrows nearly shoot off of his face with how high he raises them, a confused “huh?” leaving him. You laugh. “Y’know, because you’re right next door. Are you okay?”

He somewhat recovers. “Oh! Yeah, yeah, for sure. Face to face contact and all that.” His heart is still beating much too fast, his knee bouncing as he thinks about you showing up at his door in nothing but skimpy lingerie, a pout on your lips as you whisper that you’re so wet and that you need him to do something.

“Mhmm, exactly. Anyways, can we agree to forget about this?” You ask, and Jeno definitely won’t be forgetting about this anytime soon, but he nods anyways and murmurs an “of course”. You beam. “Cool! Are you gonna go to sleep? Because I was about to start a movie if you wanna join.”

Jeno shakes his head, the proximity driving him crazy. “I got an essay to write that is due,” He checks the clock. “9 minutes ago. Maybe another time?”

You open your arms and pull him in for a hug. “I’m holding you to that. Have fun writing your essay.”

He groans. “Oh yeah, the most fun.”

It’s when he gets past your door that you stop him. “Hey Jen?” He pauses, glances back, but doesn’t open the door to peek his head back into your room. “I’m glad it was you I sent the pictures to.”

He pretends like he doesn’t hear it, his mind already a jumbled mess.

The next few weeks are surprisingly not awkward. You both ignore it like you promised, going on with your routine as if it had never happened. Well, as much as possible, anyways.

Jeno is a young man in his prime. He has a very high sex drive. And yet, he hasn’t been able to jerk off in two weeks because every time he tries, he thinks of you. And the guilt that consumes him is always too much, so he ends up with a cold shower and a shit ton of frustration.

But two weeks is a long time to be pent up. So when you pop into his mind while he’s relaxing in bed, he can’t stop himself from grinding his hips down into the mattress. A little bit of relief turns into him humping the mattress like a dog, biting into his pillow to muffle his moans. You’re not home so he doesn’t really need to be quiet, but it’s a force of habit.

Your name still slips past his lips, and no matter how guilty he feels, he can’t stop. He groans your name and flips onto his back, wrapping his fist around his cock and nearly sobbing at how good it feels. His hips snap faster and faster into his hand and he’s so close, so fucking close-

“Jeno?” Your voice is too close to be a part of his imagination and it takes a moment for him to realize why.

His head snaps up and he makes eye contact with you, dread rushing through him. “Shit, y/n, I didn’t-“ He doesn’t finish, doesn’t know what he didn’t do, just yanks the covers up to protect the last bits of his dignity.

You swallow. “My class got cancelled. I uh, I heard you call my name and I didn’t realize that you were...” You trail off, making a vague gesture with your hand.

It’s bad, he knows, but he can’t stop himself from continuing to stroke himself at a torturous pace. He’s hidden from sight by the blanket and he grinds the heel of his palm into the head of his cock, biting his cheek so hard he tastes blood. It’s hurting more than it’s helping, and he knows it’s bad to keep doing it while talking to his roommate who he was just getting off to, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He grimaces, ready to try and talk himself out of it (or at least attempt to) when you continue. “Do you want help?”

Jeno’s eyes nearly fall out of his head and he hisses as he accidentally squeezes his cock too hard. You’re looking at your feet and maybe you’re just as embarrassed as he is.

“I mean, you’ve already seen my nudes. I wouldn’t mind, like, seeing yours too.” Jeno is hallucinating. There’s no way this is real. Shakily, he nods.

You move to sit down next to him, a little stiff, your eyes meeting his for a moment before flickering down over his torso. He jolts as you brush your fingertips along his arm, moving down the limb until you reach his hand, which is still fucking gripping his dick. You giggle when you realize that he’s been jerking off the whole time you’ve been in the room.

The covers are pulled down and your eyes widen briefly. Jeno’s self-conscious for half a second before you’re gasping out an “oh fuck, you’re big”. His ego inflates and he can’t stop himself from smiling.

“You must be close, yeah? Couldn’t stop touching yourself, even when I caught you.” Jeno groans, half in embarrassment, half in pleasure. You brush your fingers of the tip of his cock, just teasing around the head and his hips launch off the bed into your touch.

“Bet you were hoping I caught you. That’s why you were calling my name, isn’t it?” You lean close to brush your lips over his earlobe before moving down to leave wet kisses along his neck. He pants heavily, head tilting to give you more room.

Pleasure clouds his senses when you finally take pity on him, stroking his cock with a tight grip. “You’re the one who sent the pictures.” He pants out. There’s heat pooling his gut and he rolls his hips up into your grip, fucking into your hand.

“Aww, you liked them? Let me tell you a secret.” You move so that you’re straddling his thigh, leaning down to suck a hickey into his chest, and Jeno doesn’t miss the way your subtly rock your hips down. “I was thinking about you when I took them.”

That does it. Images of you picking out that lingerie with him in mind, posing and sucking on your fingers for him, touching yourself while imagining it’s him flash through his mind and it’s too much to handle. Jeno comes with a loud groan of your name, panting shallowly and digging his heels into the mattress. You work him through it, dragging out his pleasure until it’s almost too much and it starts to get painful. A loud whine leaves him and you laugh.

Jeno’s ears are ringing and his brain has turned to mush, so it takes him a while to realize that he’s got an arm locked around your body keeping you anchored to his chest. It also takes him a moment to notice how you grind down against his thigh, how you whimper and moan as you chase that bliss.

He just about comes again when he notices that you’ve got your fingers in your mouth, sucking and lapping at the digits to clean them of his come.

“Fuck,” He groans softly, tensing his thigh and pressing it up against you. “That feel good, baby?”

A hum leaves you, eyes opening to meet his own. You look thoroughly fucked out, sweat beading on your forehead, pupils blown wide with lust. “Yeah, I’m so close.”

Jeno’s hands move without him telling them to, grabbing your hips and pulling you down against his thigh harder, faster. He grips at your ass, loving the way it feels in his palm, and he brings one hand down softly. A slap sounds through the room and you keen, hips stuttering against him.

“Come on baby, let go.” His voice sounds utterly wrecked, deep and gravelly and what was supposed to be a casual phrase comes out as a command. You can’t do anything but moan in response, babbling out some variation of “please, please, I’m so close, I’m so- ohfuck.”

Your pace grows sloppy as you come, sobs leaving you as Jeno forces you to maintain a quick rhythm via his hands on your hips. Watching you fall apart is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He can’t tear his eyes away from you.

“Too much, I can’t- Jeno, I can’t-“ You shake and twitch on top of him and it fills him with satisfaction, seeing that he made you like this. He softens his hold, moving one hand up to your back and anchoring you to his chest. You bury your face into him with a sigh.

Jeno’s content to lay there and rub your back for a bit, maybe get some sleepy cuddles. But you push yourself up onto your forearms and disappointment fills him. He expects you to leave, expects things to be so unbearably awkward between the two of you that you have to move out, expects- well, anything except for the pair of lips pressing to his own.

The kiss takes him by surprise and he makes a muffled noise, taking a moment to coordinate himself enough to kiss back. You’re smiling into the kiss and it makes him smile too, his hand coming up to cup your jaw.

“So you sent me those nudes on purpose.” Jeno teases when you finally pull away, gasping for air. Your eyes widen before you’re shaking your head and giggling.

“No! I actually didn’t. They were meant for Mark, but I was thinking about you when I took them, so I guess my brain decided it would be a good idea to press your name.” You shuffle down a little bit so that your legs fit perfectly with his, limbs tangling together.

Jeno brushes your hair off of your forehead, stroking your scalp softly. You hum and melt into him. “Well, I guess you missed the mark on that one.”

It takes a moment for it to register but when it does, your head snaps up and you glare at him. “That was horrible, oh my God. I’m breaking up with you.”

“But we’re not dating?”

You turn shy, laughing and hiding your face. “Oh yeah. Well, would you maybe, uh, want to?”

Jeno can’t fight the smile that takes over his entire face as he looks at you. He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I would love to.”

[spellbound-banshee]

Dating Peter Parker Would Include...

lemme tell y’all something

Peter Parker would be the perfect boyfriend

in this essay i will...

you guys were in the same chemistry class

and you totally called him out for making web fluid in class

and Peter always liked you

he would get super flustered around you, especially because he knew you were smart and he found that really attractive

and finally someone answered all of prayers and you two became lab partners

you definitely weren’t as flustered as Peter, but you had to admit that he was cute

but lemme tell you

when you asked if you could do the rest of the project at his house

he literally almost fell over

a girl??? at his house???

so y’all are at his house working on the poster together

and Aunt May could totally tell that Peter liked her

so she does everything she can to embarrass the shit out of him

and Peter has been working up the courage to ask you out all day

and you just look so beautiful, bringing the pencil to your lips and tapping it gently before bringing it back down to write something on the paper

you notice him staring and eventually give him a smile

HE LITERALLY ALMOST FAINTED YOU GUYS

“ithinkyou’rereallycute”

the sudden word vomit takes you by surprise and you jump a bit

“what?”

“s-sorry... do you- you want to go on a date with me?”

little Parker had no idea what he was doing

his heart was literally beating out of his chest, you were surprised you couldn’t hear it

of course, you said yes

he took you to a car park

they had a screening of “the empire strikes back” there

you giggled when he suggested it, but he was so damn adorable that you couldn’t deny him

he nearly went into cardiac arrest when he saw you

you just looked so beautiful, in your favorite outfit and actually making an effort with your hair

and the smile you gave when you saw him

he felt himself become weak in the knees

he’d borrowed May’s car and you two sat in the trunk with blankets on the floor

when the movie started, you could tell he was super nervous

and to be honest, so were you

as soon as he saw you shiver, he immediately took his hoodie off and draped it across your shoulders, hands shaking when his skin brushed against yours

he began to relax about halfway into the movie

you were giggling when he recited a line he knew (which was the entire movie)

feeling bold, he reached his arm around your shoulder

“is this okay?”

you nodded your head and smiled at his question, deciding to scoot closer to him and put your head on his shoulder

he was nervous that you could hear the pounding of his heart

you thanked him for a great night and wrapped him in a big hug, and the boy was so happy he could literally scream

you gave him a kiss on the cheek after he drove you home

he literally had to catch himself on the railing after you closed the door

the dates after that are amazing

he takes you to a garden, his favorite restaurant, the top of the roof

he always surprises you in the best way

he literally wants to spend every second with you, and now that he has you it’s even better

he literally feels so lucky to have you, and his heart melts whenever he sees you

sneaking kisses in between classes

carrying each other’s books

walking each other to classes

LOTS OF HUGS

pillow forts and bingewatching

forehead kisses are his favorite

and when he kissed you for the first time OH MAN

it’s like fireworks were erupting everywhere in his body

it was awkward but y’all wouldn’t change it for the world

he likes to call you “sweetheart, love, babe, dove” and “cutie” to annoy you

you like to call him “love, darling, babe, doll” and “prince” to annoy him

even though y’all are young, you’ve already planned your future together

you guys attempt to cook together, but with May as a teacher y’all are screwed

CUDDLING

you steal each other’s hoodies because THEY’RE SO COMFORTABLE

sneaking out to see each other

he tells you he’s spider-man after a little while, but you don’t freak out

“my boyfriend’s a superhero”

sometimes you call him spidey or spider to annoy him

sometimes you play video games together

he helps you braid your hair, and loves to watch you get ready in the morning and help you with it

lots of dance parties in your socks and pajamas

he get’s sort of possessive and jealous, so when Brad tries to get you to so out with him, he get’s insecure

he’s also under a lot of stress being spider-man, so you try your best to help him through that

cleaning his cuts when he gets hurt on the job

you two rarely fight, and when you do it only takes a couple of minutes before you forgive each other

you both got dusted in the snap, so when you finally saw each other again, it was difficult to separate you two

seriously, y’all spend every day in each other’s arms after that

he’s always trying to protect you and be strong

however, after tony’s death, you knew he would need a little help

he would get panic attacks and you would help him through them, helping him breathe and helping him come back to you

y’all would always talk through it, like whenever he was sad you could tell, and comfort him in the best way you could

even though you didn’t know tony, you knew he was important to peter

y’all are the perfect couple and would most likely get married after college

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

some of y’all are gonna get real mad

but it must be said

PETER PARKER IS A SUB

like he’s a total sub, just look at him

anyway

he’s such a good boy

he’s more of a soft sub than anything

generally, he’s not super into bdsm, being blindfolded scares him a little bit and when you tried it, his senses were dialed to 10000 and it was WAYYYY to much for him to handle

sometimes, he likes being bound to the bed with his webs but thats the extent of it

he likes you to be on top, and he likes holding your hips as you ride him

lots of kissing, he likes to make the moment intimate and he likes to be as close to you as possible

he does the whiniest, high-pitched, adorable moans ever

he’s super vocal and responsive, and only ever wants to please you

he’s so adorable ugh

but when he’s arching his back, his jaw slack with little whimpers coming from the back of his throat, he looks downright edible

he always loves cuddling afterwards, and makes sure you’re both cared for before you go to sleep