#i dont feel like i answered in an appropriate way

[foxcassius]

do y’all think I could, in the month and a half before I start work, make a twitter account with a pen name and start actually making Thee money off of self published amazon garbage stories. second question, is it morally right and ethically sound to feed the amazon garbage fiction industrial complex.

[pears-trinkets]

.

[boydepartment]

so cute - anton lee x reader

a/n: DONT LOOK AT ME RN…. okay i’m having a moment shut up i can’t sleep. this is completely self indulgent and writing for fun so whooooooops

warnings- none just fluff and goofy. idol! anton. photography major! reader. (i am not a photography major so pls um bare w me) THIS IS ALSO REALLY CLICHE SO I AM SORRY i also have no idea what tags to use :( so if you are on riize tumblr PLS HELP ME IN MY INBOX WITH TAGS

wc- 250-300

MASTERLIST

when you sat down after you ordered you got all your stuff organized. you had a plan to meet your friend to study together at a small but sweet boba shop. a lot of college students would come and go and half the fun of studying was procrastinating and choosing to people watch instead.

your friend was late and so you were left to fend for yourself. which was okay, it didn’t bother you. you got a little lost in thought and didn’t even notice the gaggle of boys walk in.

you didn’t even notice when the second cashier called up your order and you skipped over to pick it up. it tasted sweet and made you smile.

the way you set up your table looked really nice so you took a couple steps away from your chair to take a photo, not for class. just for fun.

your notes and laptop looked like those aesthetic posts on pinterest and the view outside the window was not the worst for a parking lot. you looked down at your phone and frowned, maybe the flash would help?

you went to get in position again when a guy totally bumped into you. sending both of you crashing onto the floor!

when you sat up you saw all his friends almost sprint out of the shop laughing, you looked down, eyes widening.

“i’m so sorry! here let me help you up!” you stood up and put your hands out. he was quiet and took your hands. you bent over and picked up his thankful pre-poked boba, nothing spilled thank goodness!

“are you okay?” you asked, handing his drink to him. it was a little hard to tell or read him as he was wearing a mask, there was only so much you could read with his eyes.

your head turned to the side trying to get an answer out of him. eventually he snapped out of whatever daze he was in. did this boy hit his head too hard?

“it was my fault! i was walking backwards while talking and i didn’t see you i’m sorry…” the boy was very soft spoken and it took you by surprise. a lot of people you met in college were a little outspoken.

you smiled at him, hoping to lighten the mood, “it’s okay it was an accident!”

“you fell pretty hard on your knees, are you okay?” he asked, noticing that they looked pretty scuffed.

“oh! i’m okay. don’t worry about it.” you went to grab your bag which softened the blow of your fall.

“is your phone okay? if it’s broken i can help pay for the damages…”

that was sweet of him…

you looked at your phone and saw the crack in the screen protector, “it’s a little cracked but it’s just the screen protector! it’s fine! if anyone asks i can tell them about this.” you laughed a little and looked at him again, “my friend’s gonna wish she wasn’t late…!”

you heard the boy laugh a little, “i still feel bad for tripping over you and ruining your photo, can i do anything to make up for it?”

“there’s no need to feel bad!” you said quickly- waving you hands back and forth, “again it’s totally okay. you should probably get back to your friends though… they kinda ran off.”

you saw him look outside the window, scoffing a little, “i’m going to choose to ignore them.”

this made you laugh, it was a total 180 from his voice, it was cute.

“i’m y/n. i figure since we’re having a conversation it’s appropriate to introduce myself, since you’re not just falling over me and dipping.” you stuck your hand out again.

he looked at your hand and shook it, “anton.” his eyes curved which told you he was smiling. cute.

“um… your friend still isn’t here… can i sit with you?”

you nodded, might as well, it wasn’t like you were studying. he happily took a seat next to you.

“you’re in college right?”

you nodded, “mhm! photography major!” you opened a file and scooted your laptop to him. anton looked through your photos almost amazed.

“i’m trying to put together my portfolio right now actually. i’m hoping i’ll get a job soon.” you explained, leaning your head on your palm.

he practically perked up at this, “my friends and i need a photographer for our next show!”

“show?”

“ummmmmmmmmm.” anton scratched his neck, “yes. show. music. yaknow….”

you smiled, “honestly, if it pays well, i’d love to.”

he looked at you and nodded, really enthusiastically. you felt pride bubble in you for someone being so impressed by your work to offer you a job.

“can i get your number to get the details?” you asked, unlocking your phone, he was cute and even if the job didn’t work out, maybe a date would. you could hear his phone buzzing rapidly.

anton nodded again and put his information in, “text me your name n stuff and i’ll answer i promise.” he stood up, “i really need to get back to my friends they’re blowing up my phone… even though they ditched me…”

you laughed again, “no problem. i’ll text you!”

“yeah!” he was walking away from you smiling when he ran into the door awkwardly. almost like the scene of a movie. it was so cute.

he was so cute.

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER SEVEN: INHIBITION (OR LACK THERE OF)

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SUMMARY ↳ The three C's (carnival, chaos, and cuddle pollen). Jon lets you drag him away, looking back to see Damian squinting at him through the mask. Making your way out of the venue you catch onto Ivy’s parting words. "In a world of violence and chaos, my cuddle pollen offers a moment of peace, a false but blissful reprieve. It's almost poetic, isn't it?" Fuck. Your. Life. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: mentions of having sex (as a joke/none is actually had), cuddle pollen (kind of non-con cuddling and kissing, but reader really doesn't mind) wc: 4.4k

Nari wakes you up by screeching in your ear. You groan and roll over, snatching him up and gently throwing him off the bed. You sit in bed and contemplate if you really have to get up and function as a normal person, but alas, you do. Grabbing your phone, your eyes widen a tad. Jesus, you slept till ten? Good thing it’s the weekend.

You have the day off from work, so it’s up to you to find something to do. You feed Nari, making sure to give him a bunch of apologetic kisses. Maybe you’ll swing by the Den today. It won’t hurt to work some more on the badassium.

You groan and stretch, doing some warm-up exercises. Nari perches on your back as you do push ups. He weighs nothing, but it’s the thought that counts. Karen pipes up from your laptop.

“I’ve done you the liberty of adding Victoria’s contact info on your phone.”

You release a fond sigh. “Bit of a meddler, are you?”

“I am simply saving us time.” You snort. You grab your phone, changing Victoria’s name and shoot her a text.

sugar mommy

whats good how we doing

i dont need anything just wanted to say hi

also its [name] btw

Her response comes a minute later.

[Name]???

How did you get my number?

karen did

shes kind of my guy in the chair

does all the super cool behind the scenes stuff yknow how it is

I thought I was your ‘guy in the chair’

fym ur my sugar mommy

Her only response is a money bag emoji, making you chuckle. She’s got personality and it makes you smile. A knock at the door catches your attention. Probably May coming to make sure you’re not dead. She’s gotten used to leaving early now. The lock clicks as you open the door.

Oh, it’s not May. It’s Jon .

“Jon!” you say, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles, a friendly one. “Hi, [Name]. I was just visiting Dami, but he seems to be in a mood… so I was wondering if we could hang out?” he asks, hopeful. “If that’s okay with you?”

You coo internally. You’ll never get over how sweet he is. “Yeah, of course. Just text me next time, yeah?”

He nods, stepping inside as you open the door for him. Nari trots over to him and rubs against his ankles. “What time did you get up? I don’t think Metropolis is that close to GC.” You feel a little evil, putting him on the spot because you know he flew here.

He pauses, thinking of an appropriate answer. “Uh, I don’t know. Six, maybe?” he winces, hoping that answer makes sense. You don’t have it in you to do the mental calculations so early in the morning, so you nod. You wouldn’t actually out him like that, anyway.

“Got any ideas are we just gonna have hot sex the whole day?”

Jon, to his credit, only lightly blushes. He’s long gotten used to your sense of humor. “There’s that carnival that just opened.”

“Mmm, maybe later. Carnivals always look better when it’s dark.”

“Then…” he thinks, “...let’s just go for a walk. See what we find.”

You grab your keychain with far too many charms on it and your other essentials, hooking your arm in Jon's. “Lead the way.”

May doesn’t have any outward reaction save for a knowing look as you exit the building. You squint your eyes at her in response. The noise of the city greets you as you walk out. People around you go on with their days, each living their own complex life.

It’s silent for a moment as the two of you walk. You take the moment to just think for a moment. You thought life was crazy when you found out you had crazy spider powers, but then you turned it around and made it into something good. You thought life was crazy when you got asked to officially join the avengers, but then you found a family in them. You thought life was crazy when you found out about the ‘spider verse’, but from that you realized you weren’t alone. You should’ve known better than to think it couldn’t get any crazier than that, but here you are. Very far from home.

You just wonder what will come out of this .

“You’re quiet,” Jon notes, voice barely a murmur.

“Just thinking.”

“That’s not good,” he jokes. You scoff and consider flicking him, but it would probably hurt.

“Just thinking how hard it’ll be for Damian to look me in the eye the next time I see him.”

Jon raises a brow. “What… happened between you and Damian? Is that why he was in a mood?”

“So crazy story, he walked in on me making out with my kind-of bully.” Jon’s eyes widen incredibly. His pace stutters and he chokes on air. You grin as you watch his flail. “Making out might be generous, but it was pretty passionate.”

You continue, “God, you should’ve seen the look on his face. He genuinely stopped functioning for a sec! He’s a bigger virgin than I thought. Or maybe it was just that it was with Tori of all people. It’s okay though, she’s not all that she seems.”

Jon stops walking altogether, accidentally yanking you to a stop as well. You blink at him.

“Ok…” he starts, “first of all, you kissed your bully?” he asks incredulously.

“Well, like I said, she's not all that she seems,” you shrug. He nods, still looking at you in disbelief.

“So… what? Are you guys… dating?” he hesitates to say the word.

You scratch your nose, looking down. “Nah… we talked it out, she uh…” you trail off, “...it was a spur of the moment thing, we’re just friends. Now, anyway.” You feel bad saying you rejected the girl who was in love with you, but you also can’t say everything that went down.

You look at Jon, seeing him also looking down in thought. His brows are furrowed, you wonder how strange it is to Damian if it’s so strange to Jon. He nods after a bit, continuing his walk. His arm holds yours a bit tighter.

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” he laughs disbelievingly.

Probably because this isn’t your universe. “Probably because I’m so awesome all kinds of people want a piece of me.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late,” you grin.

For as drab as Gotham City is, at least this carnival provides a little bit of color. The vibrant lights provide an enchanting atmosphere. You can’t help but grin. Jon watches you with a smile.

“What do you want to do first?”

“Pie eating contest.”

He blinks. “Okay?” He’s a little confused by your quick and confident reply. Now don’t be alarmed, you usually eat three meals a day. The meals are just… well, some might argue if they’re actually meals or not. Tony estimated that you should be eating five proper meals a day to combat your increased metabolism. You’re not starving or anything as you are now, but if you ever get injured your increased healing won’t help.

“I wanna eat,” is your only explanation as you drag him to the stand.

Jon chuckles as you drag him along, his smile widening at your enthusiasm. “Alright, I’ll join you,” he smiles, matching your energy. The two of you approach the stand where a small crowd has gathered around a makeshift stage. A lively carnival barker stands at the front, rallying contestants and spectators alike.

“Step right up, folks! Who’s got what it takes to be the pie-eating champion of Gotham tonight?” the man announces enthusiastically, his voice carrying over the excited chatter of the crowd.

You and Jon sign up eagerly, taking your places at the contestant table. The rules are simple: eat as much pie as you can within a set time limit. The pies, piled high with whipped cream and fruity filling, look delectable under the carnival lights.

The contest begins, and you and Jon dig in with gusto. The pies are delicious, each bite bringing a burst of sweet flavor. The crowd cheers and laughs as you both devour your way through the pies, alternating between bites and glances at each other, each trying to outpace the other.

Jon manages to finish his first pie just as you’re halfway through yours. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, grinning at you challengingly. “You’re pretty good at this,” he remarks between bites.

You flash him a competitive smirk, determined not to be outdone. “I eat a lot,” you quip back, mouth full of pie.

The contest continues, the pace quickening as the time ticks down. Cheers and encouragement from the crowd spur you on, adding to the thrill of the competition. Despite the messiness and the rapidly filling sensation in your stomach, you keep going, driven by the desire to win and the sheer enjoyment of the moment.

Finally, the timer buzzes, signaling the end of the contest. You and Jon set down your forks, breathing heavily but grinning broadly at each other. The man approaches to determine the winner.

“And the winner is…” he declares dramatically, waiting. After a tense moment, he announces, “It’s a tie!”

You and Jon exchange a look of surprise and then burst into laughter, both of your mouths covered in pie and thoroughly satisfied. The crowd applauds, appreciating the spirited effort you both put into the contest. You fancy yourself smug, seeing as you kept up with a kryptonian.

Jon wipes his hands and face with a napkin, chuckling as he looks at you. "I can't believe we tied," he says, shaking his head in amusement.

You nod, still grinning widely. "Yeah, I can’t believe you kept up with me.” He chuckles, shaking his head.

The man hands each of you a small prize—a colorful ribbon that declares you both "Pie Eating Champions of Gotham City Carnival". You both accept the ribbons with good humor, pinning them onto your shirts proudly.

As you step away from the contest table, Jon nudges you playfully. "So, what's next on our carnival adventure?"

You glance around, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling carnival. The vibrant lights of the rides beckon in the distance, and the aroma of cotton candy and popcorn fills the air. "Let's hit the Ferris wheel," you suggest, pointing towards the towering structure adorned with sparkling lights.

Jon nods eagerly. "Sounds good to me. Let's go," he says, grabbing your hand as you make your way towards the Ferris wheel.

The line isn’t too long. The worker wishes you a good ride as the two of you step into the brightly colored gondola, slowly ascending to the sky.

As the ride reaches its peak, you both fall silent for a moment, taking in the view. The city skyline looms in the distance, a stark contrast to the colorful and carefree world of the carnival. For a brief moment, you feel a sense of peace and contentment, grateful for this simple yet memorable night with Jon. 

"This is nice," Jon remarks, leaning back comfortably in his seat. You nod in agreement, admiring the view.

Jon looks at you, thinking. There are a million things he wants to say, wants to admit to you. He wonders how you would react to each and every one of them. With only positivity, he’s sure. You’re the type to go with the flow, whatever happens, happens. He’s certain he could trust you with his life, eventually.

He takes a deep breath, unsure what’s about to come out of his mouth. “[Name]–”

The Ferris wheel rocks violently for a heart stopping moment. For the other riders, mostly. You and Jon immediately stiffen to attention, because Ferris wheels aren’t supposed to do that. Jon crosses over to you, locking you in his embrace as he looks over the edge. You try to look as well, but a simple tense of his arms prevents you.

A threatening green is making headway across the carnival grounds, sending people running. Vines bloom, crawling over stands and attractions. Poison Ivy, looking as prickly as ever, strides in gracefully.

"This carnival is a blight on this land," Ivy declares, her voice carrying over the chaos. "You trample on nature for your own amusement, but no longer. Tonight, the Earth fights back."

Oh, great. You can’t do anything because you’re stuck in the air with Jon. Jon can’t do anything because he’s stuck in the air with you. You sigh, leaning back against him.

With a wave of her hand, flowers bloom amidst the destruction, a stark contrast to the panic around her. Ivy's plants begin to dismantle the carnival, reclaiming the area for nature. Her message is clear: the environment will no longer be taken for granted, and anyone who harms it will face her wrath. Vines crawl up the Ferris wheel, wrapping around the gondolas in a nightmarish display.

“Um. Any bright ideas?” you ask Jon.

He says pulling out his phone, he pulls it out of your view and begins to type furiously. You bet a hundred bucks it’s Damian and Jon is furiously texting him to haul ass and get here now .

A vine thrusts itself into the box, making Jon yank you both to the floor in the middle. It spreads slowly, hauntingly, slowly encompassing the gondola. Flowers bloom… ah shit—

Jon shifts the two of you, blocking you from the flowers. Also putting himself directly in front of them. “Jon don’t–” you warn, because regardless of his heritage, it can still affect him. Even more so since he’s only half. He presses your face into his chest right as the flower coughs, releasing the spores right in his face.

“Don’t breathe them in,” he growls. Thanks, you weren’t planning on it anyway. You hold your breath, anyway.

He’s getting antsy. “[Name],” he mutters gravely. “Please. Close your eyes and trust me.”

You internally sigh, preparing how you’re going to act like the most aloof fool after this. You nod and close your eyes. Jon picks you up, arms under your knees and around your back. You wind your arms around his neck and rest against his chest.

Jon, to his credit, doesn’t just fly down the ride. You feel him jump down the bars of the Ferris wheel, making sure to keep you secure in his arms. His landings are precise and calculated, avoiding the chaos below. You hear the gasps and shouts from the people around you as Jon navigates through the mess of vines.

Finally, you feel the solid ground beneath you as Jon gently sets you down. “Okay, you can open your eyes now,” he says softly.

You open your eyes and find yourself standing amidst the carnage, the Ferris wheel towering above you. Vines continue to spread, and the air is filled with the panicked cries of carnival-goers trying to escape. Jon stands protectively beside you, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of Ivy.

“We have to stop her,” you blurt. He looks at you incredulously. You ignore it and look around, trying to find a way to do this without Spinnerette. Eyes narrowing, you spot something in the distance.

“There.” You point at a nearby water tower. “If we flood the area, it might disrupt her control over the plants.”

“Good plan. You should leave it to the professionals.”

You blink, turning around. It’s Robin who spoke, arms crossed and looking at you. However, it’s the sight of the 6’2 emo bitch dressed in a bat fursuit that makes you stiffen.

“Robin! You came!” Jon brightens, before coughing into his fist. “I mean. Of course you came, you’re Robin.” The urge to roll your eyes at his silliness is strong, but you resist.

Batman doesn’t react, though you’re sure he just sighed on the inside. “You should get to safety with the rest of the civilians,” he grumbles out in his Batman™ voice.

You nod rapidly. “Yup yup. Yessir Mr Batman.” You grip Jon’s wrist and drag him away. Fuck that, majorly. If he says leave it up to him, you’re perfectly fine with that. You’re pretty sure he’s gonna take what you said and connect some dots, and you don’t wanna be around when that happens. He can take his theories and shove it up his ass.

Jon lets you drag him away, looking back to see Damian squinting at him through the mask. Making your way out of the venue you catch onto Ivy’s parting words.

"In a world of violence and chaos, my cuddle pollen offers a moment of peace, a false but blissful reprieve. It's almost poetic, isn't it?"

Fuck. Your. Life.

Jon is looking just a tad bit worse for wear (you’re lying, he looks haggard) when you arrive at your apartment. May, thank god, wasn’t at the desk, so you managed to get by without having to deal with that. You  shove Jon onto the couch, wincing with a small apology. Frantically typing, you google how to deal with cuddle pollen.

The number one suggestion is to visit Gotham General Hospital, but given Jon’s less than human nature, that's a no go. Other results suggest drinking lots of water and sweating it out to dilute its affects.

You throw your phone somewhere and quickly fetch some water for Jon. Nari meows at Jon, sensing something is wrong. When you make your way back you see that Jon has trapped Nari in his arms, cooing unintelligibly at him.

“Drink,” you tell him urgently, lifting his chin. He leans into your touch, obeying. You make sure he drinks every last drop. When he finishes you turn around to get some more water, only to be yanked back. You crash into Jon’s arms, watching as Nari trots away, happy to be free. You wish you were Nari right now.

Jon nuzzles into you, humming contently.

“Jon…” you warn.

“Yeah, baby?” he hums. Jesus.

“You’re under the effects of cuddle pollen. Your mind is scrambled. Just let me get you some water–”

He hugs you tighter at the mention of you leaving, standing up with you in his arms. You try to get free, holding your own for a bit. But alas, he wins. Stupid kryptonian biology. He carries you to the bedroom, setting you down on the bed.

You blink. “Okay, hang on–”

Jon belly flops right on top of you, earning an ‘oof’ from you. He wraps his arms around you, snuggling into your collarbone. He sighs in content as he relaxes on you. There’s no hope for you to escape, is there?

“Jon, come on. Let’s… do jumping jacks or something. Sweat it out of your system. You can even hold my hand!”

Jon grumbles, burying his face in your neck. “I know something else we can do to get sweaty.”

You blink. Then snort. Damn, is that the cuddle pollen talking or is your influence taking effect? You feel Jon smile against your neck.

Sighing, you acknowledge that you’re not getting out of this situation. You hesitantly rest your arms around him. You feel his grin get wider, and then he surprises you even further by laying a goddamn kiss against your neck. You grumble and mutter, “I am going to make fun of you so hard after this.”

Laying there, you think. If you didn’t just compromise yourself to Batman, then hopefully you won’t be approached when you next patrol. Or worse, when you're just being a regular civilian. 

You blink, deciding you’re gonna be a little shit.

“Jon,” you say, “give me your phone.”

Jon reaches into his pocket, unlocking his phone and handing it to you. It’s got a couple cracks in it, and his wallpaper features a photo of a sunset over a vast farm. You scroll through his contacts, clicking the one that says ‘damian !! (stinkin loser)’. You click the call button, hoping he’s done superheroing and has time to answer.

He answers on the third ring. “Jon, you fool, what were you–”

“Damian,” you interrupt before he says something you’re not supposed to know. The line goes quiet on the other end. “I’ll keep it brief. Jon got absolutely fucked over with a face-full of cuddle pollen and he won’t let me go. We’re at my apartment, so if you can pull some rich people strings and get an antidote or something I would very much appreciate it.”

“...He won’t let go of you?”

You roll your eyes and snap a picture of Jon wrapped around you. “Help,” is all you say after you send it.

You hear him sigh. “I’ll be there in fifteen,” is all you hear before the call cuts. Jon yanks the phone away from you, throwing it somewhere in the room as he flips the two of you over. You lay on his chest now, feeling his chin rest on your head and his hands come up to rest on your waist, fingertips creeping up under your shirt.

Your phone is in the other room and you didn’t see where Jon threw his, so you’re left to stew in his arms until Damian comes. You begin to hum a song, for your own peace of mind, ignoring the way Jon’s hands rub your skin in a back-and-forth motion. Jon removes one of his hands and places it on the back of your head, pushing you into his neck. The bastard lays another kiss on your head, muttering comforting words.

Damn, you think you’re starting to fall asleep. Sue you for feeling safe in his arms, he’s literally Superboy. It doesn’t help that you're lying in bed and he's rubbing your back so softly you feel like he’s your boyfriend comforting you after a long day.

You hear your door kick open, and the only reason your fight response doesn’t kick in is because you’re still stuck in Jon’s arms, and because you know it’s Damian. Jon on the other hand, immediately sits up, glaring hard at your hallway. When Damian shows up in your doorway, bag in hand, he relaxes. He lies back down in the bed, snuggling in to you.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly.

He ignores your weak greeting, digging into his bag and pulling out a syringe filled with what can only be the antidote. You pointedly make a note to definitely not mention how the needle is green.

“Just be careful he doesn’t grab you. He’s… really strong,” you mutter.

He grabs Jon’s head, pushing it aside to bare his neck. You’re surprised Jon lets him, but cuddle pollen does leave people without inhibition. Damian sticks the needle in, making Jon groan. You watch the fluid disappear, feeling peaceful knowing that this will soon be over. Damian finishes administering the antidote and takes a seat on the bed.

“Thanks for… coming through,” you say. You don’t know what else you can really talk about right now.

Damian just looks at you. “What were you even doing there?”

He means the carnival. You furrow your brows. “Hanging out? Sorry we didn’t predict that Poison Ivy was gonna be there. Maybe you should talk to Batman about that.”

“You could have been hurt. Jon did get hurt.”

“It’s just cuddle pollen, Dami,” you reassure, placing a hand on his arm. He grasps it tightly. “You gave him the antidote, he’s not hurt.”

Damian’s grip on your arm is firm, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re lucky it was just that. It could have been worse.”

You nod, understanding his concern, but feeling a bit annoyed at the same time. “I know, I know. But we’re fine now. Jon’s going to be okay.”

Damian's expression softens slightly at your reassurance, though his concern is still evident. He looks at Jon, who seems to be coming out of the pollen's effects, his grip on you loosening. Damian then turns his attention back to you, his gaze intense.

"You shouldn't take unnecessary risks," he says, his voice low but firm. "Especially not with someone like Jon."

You raise an eyebrow at the implication in his tone. "Are you implying something about Jon?"

“Jon is… brave, but restless. Just be more cautious.”

You give him a playful smirk. "Are you worried about me, Damian Wayne? That's almost sweet."

He scowls slightly, clearly not amused by your teasing. "I'm serious, [Name]. This city is dangerous enough without getting caught up in avoidable situations."

“I promise to be more careful in the future,” you say, eyes earnest. It seems to settle Damian, for now.

Jon groans under you. He sits up, taking you with him. You fall to his lap as you look at him. He blinks for a moment, taking in his surroundings. You hear his heartbeat slowing, calming. He looks at Damian, looks at you. Stares at you, whom his arms are around, in his lap.

He freaks, shoving you out of his embrace and scrambling back. Damian catches you, growling, “You fool, Jon, careful!”

“I’m so sorry!” he cries. “I was… oh my god, I’m so sorry–”

You hold out your hands to placate him. “Jon, it’s okay! I’m fine, I don’t care. You weren’t in control. You didn’t do anything.”

“I should have left when I got hit,” he growls to himself.

You sigh, looking at Damian for help. “What’s done is done. No use in whining about it now,” he huffs, shifting you to sit up.

Jon purses his lips, looking like he wants to cry. You open your arms, “Come on.”

He hesitates, so you grab him and haul him into your embrace. He stiffens, before wrapping his arms around you. He melts into your embrace.

Damian clears his throat, making Jon pull back with a sheepish expression. “I should really get home before my parents worry.”

You nod, patting his arm. “Of course.”

He thanks Damian as well on his way out. You don’t hear the door open, so you figure he just got antsy and couldn’t stay in the room longer. You don’t blame him. You sigh when you see he left his phone, grabbing it and handing it to Damian.

“Thank you,” you mutter. You look into his eyes, he looks back. In a moment of weakness, you place a hand on his cheek and lean in, pressing your lips to his other one. The kiss is chaste, barely lasting for a second before you pull back. “You’re paying for my door.”

Damian says nothing in response, simply watching you. He raises his hand, clasping yours and gently bringing it down. He nods.

“It was nothing.” And then he and Jon are out the door. You sigh, laying down in your bed that smells like Jon now. No patrol tonight, again.

notes: jon was about to risk it all on that ferris wheel just saying

[fairuzfan]

hello!! I don't know if this is appropriate (pls do not feel obligated to answer) but i was wondering what were ur thoughts on the israeli grass-roots movement Standing Together. I first found out abt them through a tumblr post that shared this substack article (https://theconnector.substack.com/p/if-its-not-helping-then-shut-the). the article immediately put an extremely bad taste in my mouth towards the movement and its founders, but i dont know if i'm being overly-critical of them.

Hey thanks for sending this in. No worries, it's totally ok. I was actually debating whether or not to publish this, mostly because I was afraid this would distract from Gaza, but I decided that it's imperative to stop normalizers from squeezing their way into the movement. Remember, the demands of the Palestinian people begin and end with liberation. Everything else is irrelevant and pointless to the cause.

So first off — I don't think you're being overly-critical of them at all. The first red flag of both this article and the group themselves is that they often exchange "Palestinian" with "Arab" and "Israeli" with "Jewish." That right off the bat shows me they have no respect for Palestinians and see Jewish people and Palestinians as mutually exclusive categories. I've spoken on this blog before about how racist it is to assume no Palestinian is Jewish and vice versa and this group really illustrates the forced division they imagine within their own goals and wording.

The article itself is quite anti-Palestinian in its erasure — it talks about avoiding words like "genocide," and "apartheid," and "ethnic cleansing" because "they are serious people trying to actually get something done." I really don't understand why not using those words makes you a serious person. If anything, it erases a description of how to define what it happening to Palestinians.

The whole redefinition of "peace" in this article and group is just calmness. These people are not advocating for peace in which families are reunited and land is given back — they are advocating for a muted version of the status quo of the current political system, just with less obviously fanatical governments. Peace cannot be attained when the people directly affected cannot have a say in defining it. They won't even say the word "apartheid." It's not some scholarly word with no meaning — it has actual consequences and effects on people (click). Palestinians are tried in military court. Their movement is monitored and restricted. It means that there are different legal systems for different people (click)! If you reject that this exists, then you're not interested in making the lives of Palestinians better — you're only interested in making your own life more comfortable.

As soon as you remove our ability to say words like "genocide" and "apartheid", you remove our ability to determine what happens specifically to Palestinians based on racism. By only saying "Palestinians are getting killed" an Israeli can come in and say "well so am I, by Hamas! Let's work together to end the killing" when it ignores that this is a systematic effort to completely wipe out all trace of Palestinians from the world.

It's like saying, "Don't say you have arthritis, say your joints hurt. And well, that happens to everyone, so let's just find a way to stop all our joints from hurting!" Then you work with people who fundamentally don't understand your pain and symptoms, oversimplifying your situation to the point of malicious universality. Sure, everyone's joints hurt, but my joints are hurting because my immune system is attacking them, not because of old age. You can't help my arthritis the same way you can wear a heat/cold patch to sooth your joints — there are other problems you're ignoring that all work together to cause me systematic pain and might cause bigger problems in the future if left untreated properly.

Similar symptoms don't mean similar causes and ignoring that is fundamentally ignoring the root issue and attempting to trivialize Palestinian's suffering. As soon as you take away the words to describe our situation, it doesn't sound so bad, does it?

Now, basically, the... weirdest part of the article is this excerpt:

People like him in Israel are very aware of how the left here is talking about them, and it’s not helping. “You can call me a colonizer or a settler,” he declared, “but I’m not going anywhere. And neither are the Palestinians.” When people chant, “Palestine will be free,” he said, “we Israelis hear, ‘without you.’ In the same way that a lot of Palestinians hear the ministers in Bibi’s government speak and think they want to do the same thing to them.” The problem as they both see it is that we are caught between two polar opposites. “Hamas believes in Greater Palestine,” Green said. “And on the other side we have people who believe in the idea of Greater Israel.” Indeed, that concept is in the charter of Netanyahu’s Likud Party. “Both sides have very problematic governing bodies,” he added. And the status quo of maintaining the occupation and managing the conflict has been exploded now.

Well, first off, Hamas is not the only one who believes in "Greater Palestine." Palestinians around the globe have been fighting for that since 1948. Second off, it's quite odd that you would center yourself in the wake of the ongoing slaughter of 10,000 people, with no end in sight. Right now, I would assume you'd be advocating for an end to the mass killings first and foremost, but you seem to be more worried about your right to stolen land.

Third, this completely erases the violence done to Palestinians the past 75+ years in favor for a "peace" that will only allow citizens of Israel comfort in their lives. Sure Palestinian citizens of Israel might have more comfortable lives, maybe (although I doubt it). But what about Gaza, which has been ravaged by Israel? What about the people in the Occupied Territories, whose economy depends on Israel, which controls it? What about the millions of refugees around the world who can't so much as see the place where they grew up because they've been exiled? The colonization of Palestine by Israel is not so old — there are people STILL ALIVE who participated in the massacres of Palestinians in 1948 and 1967 and walk around without facing any real consequences for that. My great-grandmother had seen both and she only passed away a couple of years ago. Where is the "peace" for her? Where is the "peace" for millions like her who still dream of going back to their childhood home?

This group AND the article tries to cloud your view into illustrating two opposing groups with equal power. They aren't. Palestinians, unfortunately, endure systematic oppression both within Gaza and throughout Palestine. Each and every time they try to resist peacefully, they've been shot, abducted, or imprisoned. The Great March of Return is one such example. BDS is also an example, yet that has constantly been outlawed by American governments. There have been a plethora of Palestinian artists, writers, and filmmakers who have been silenced or killed for advocating for a Free Palestine. Most recently, this included Heba Abu-Nada who was an award winning poet and writer who was martyred on October 20th after getting shelled by an Israeli missile. Ghassan Kanafani also was assassinated last century. The list goes on. Palestinians have no hope of "changing the system from within" because that internal change will always depend on the mercy of the Israelis that pretend to ally themselves with the Palestinians. Someone in Gaza cannot leave their refugee camp and go back to their ancestral home because no one in this group is advocating for that — and remember, the right of return is an essential part of the demands of the Palestinian people and we cannot ignore that for a forced "peace" that favors calmness over actual justice.

Now as we examine the group themselves, here is their mission statement/goal:

Standing Together is a progressive grassroots movement mobilizing Jewish and Palestinian citizens of Israel against the occupation and for peace, equality, and social justice. We know that the majority have far more in common than that which sets us apart and only a tiny minority benefits from the status quo. The future that we want-peace and independence for Israelis and Palestinians, full equality for everyone in this land, and true social, economic, and environmental justice — is possible. To achieve this future, we must stand together as a united front: Jewish and Palestinian, secular and religious, Mizrahi and Ashkenazi, rural and urban, and people of all genders and sexual orientations. As the largest Jewish-Arab grassroots movement in Israel, we are committed to creating an alternative to our existing reality and building the political strength to make this transformation possible.

Yet again, they are separating "Palestinian" and "Jewish," reinforcing this dichotomy that's so harmful. AND they're interchanging "Palestinian" and "Arab," which erases the diversity within Palestinian society. A group that makes the distinction between "Palestinian" and "Jewish" shows that they are not interested in the restitution of Palestinians but rather solidifying their own position within society by emphasizing a false dichotomy between "Palestinians" and "Jews" with no potential for overlap.

They mention "true justice" but "true justice" doesn't exist if there are no reparations towards the people who have been exiled and displaced, murdered, and tortured the past 75+ years. Justice is not an abstract concept — it is adhering to the demands of the people most impacted by systematic oppression, which is the Palestinians.

Looking at their leadership, there are only a couple of Palestinians with the vast majority of them being non-Palestinian. Sorry, but I'm wholly uninterested in "peace" and "equality" movements that are not made up of majority Palestinians. It's only common sense that you would expect such a movement to be led by Palestinians themselves — but this group seems to use Sally Abed as a token Palestinian who furthers their narrative of wanting "peace" in Israeli society. And even looking at their action items, you can see they make a point about emphasizing safety for the *Israeli* citizens above all else, stating that their far right government does nothing to serve the citizens of Israel. They claim it will also bring safety for Gazans, but how? You can advocate for a change in the government, yes, but if the people in Gaza are subject to getting their rights taken away based on the whims of whoever happens to be in power then no amount of "internal" activism in Israeli society will help them. They will always be at the mercy of the people who have a vested interest in erasing the people of Gaza and the West Bank so that they may take over their land.

Please remember, the civil rights movement of the 60s and the BLM Movement of this century were led by and FOR Black people of the United States because they were the ones making the demands for a change in their circumstances. Because at the end of the day, the people who are the most oppressed deserve the right to decide how their future appears and should not be dictated by the oppressor in any way.

This group tries to make a separation between the "Israeli people" and the "Israeli government." Right away, I have to laugh. They act as if the colonization of Palestine is too old for anyone to remember its origins — no. I had family living in Palestine as recently as '67. Maybe *this* generation didn't choose to settle in Palestine, but the previous generation did. And the generations before that. Before 1948, Israel didn't even exist. Hell, before a couple hundred years ago, BORDERS didn't exist. Not to mention, mandatory conscription means that most civilians will have been directly part of the suppressing forces, making them liable for the material effects of colonization. Why are people so resistant to the idea of undoing colonialism and its effects? I cannot think of any other reason than because they have a vested interest in keeping those borders up, in emphasizing nationality because they're one of the groups of people that is benefited from the establishment of a "Jewish State."

So in that, unless you call for an end to the idea of the "Jewish State" in Palestine, then I cannot think of you as a sincere advocate for Palestinian rights — this group especially plays at normalization of a muted version of the status quo rather than actual justice and reparations. The "Israeli advocates" within this group will benefit first and foremost in their own activism — therefore it's hard for me to view them in a positive light.

All activism for Palestinians should center around giving Palestinians reparations, as well as giving reparations to all indigenous victims of colonization. I think this group only tries to muddy the waters to make people forget what they're fighting for. I honestly do not understand why liberation scares you, if it means that no nation-state will have complete and total power over you and your family.

"Free Palestine" is an anti-colonial movement. Such a thing is possible — but you have to try to make it possible. Those against the unending liberation of all people are one of those who have the most to benefit from the continuation of colonization.

Right now, your main concern should be the people of Gaza and the people of the West Bank, and ensuring their safety and longevity in the face on continued erasure. "Peace" is all well and good but who exactly gets to define that? Who gets to benefit most from it? Unless you can unequivocally answer "ALL Palestinians," then you're not an ally — you're only interested in helping yourselves.

Remember — the fact that we even had to fight for our rights is itself an injustice. At the very least, ask the people who are most affected what they want before you listen to Israelis who have a vested interest in keeping the state of Israel alive.

[missnosferatu]

arthur and reader go fishing (i have ideas)

you’d think after being stuck in a snowstorm for longer than anyone should, you would be happy to get into the warm sun and soft grass away from the mountains. except sometimes the sun has a way of making you feel like it’s completely melting your skin right off of you.

which is why you felt like it was only appropriate to be lying on the ground with your head propped against a hay bale.

despite the glares of one older woman who had a distaste for lazing around.

“she’ll come over an’ drag you up by your big toe” it was a rough grumble- something easily recognizable and had you lifting the hat off your face.

“m’not afraid of her” you huffed, even if it was a complete lie.

your eyes automatically found his, arthur’s flickering away after a moment before he let a small chuckle leave him. it was the best music you could have ever been blessed to hear. if only you could have it on repeat from dutch’s gramophone.

“i do my fair share around here, cowboy” it came out mumbled from you, face turning away from him so he wouldn't see the flush on your face, and you’d miss the one on his.

“i’m not sayin’ that” arthur shook his head, a hand coming up to rub over his stubble. “pearson is over there complainin’ about food”

you scoffed, the idea of the camp cook fussing about food was not lost on you.

“was thinkin’ we could go” he cleared his throat after, and the warmth in your cheeks just seemed content to stay. “why not take javier?” you muttered, hoping it didn't come across horribly. it’s not like you didn't want to go- you just needed to hear him say he wanted you to go.

“ah he’s…” arthur trailed off, a small wave of his hand as he tried to come up with an excuse.

he sighed, hands on his hips as he looked down at you.

“i thought you’d wanna go. never see you out fishin’ much” it came out in an almost mumble, like he was unsure of his answer.

you didn't ask any other questions, just standing with a small huff of air and eyes finding his once again.

“i don't go for a reason” you replied, and that set the two of you towards your horses. it was hardly a ride to the small lake near camp, but it was enough to establish that you couldn't fish to save your life.

a small grunt left you when you dismounted, pulling your fishing pole out when your feet were on the ground. “fish jus’ dont like me” you scoffed, a weak attempt to make up for your lack of skill. it had a hearty laugh leaving arthur, which in turn made the corners of your mouth drift upwards. “fish are pretty smart, i reckon” he teased, causing you to throw a glare his way.

if you weren't already embarrassed to admit you couldn't fish, trying to cast out was going to kill you. your line kept getting tangled without fail, and you were more than ready to give up. especially when you had to fix the line for what felt like the hundredth time. ‘you just gotta…” arthur trailed off from beside you- trying to mimic how to fix it, but to no avail. a frustrated hand pushed hair away from your face, your patience and arthurs wearing a bit thin. “you're not helping” you huffed, voice coming out a bit harsher than intended.

arthur broke, setting his pole down before taking a couple steps towards you. he untangled the line with rage inducing ease- and then his body was close to yours.

“here” he grumbled, his hands on yours to reposition them. his chest brushed against your back faintly, and you couldn't focus on anything but the heat coming off of him. turning your head and finding his face not far from yours brought you and arthur back to reality.

it was an awkward silence, and arthur felt too exposed wirth the way your eyes looked to his. the small shuffle of a fish tugging on his hook had the two of you moving apart, despite yearning for the closeness almost immediately.

“sorry” he mumbled, clearing his throat and avoiding your gaze. “just, uh..wanted to help”

the most you could do was nod your head, hoping you’d sound normal as you spoke.

“yeah, yeah it helped” there was a small curl of your lip, the smallest hint of delight in your voice. you both continued on like normal, maybe getting a bit distracted with fleeting glances.

luckily, you could blame the redness of your cheeks on the heavy heat

[literaila]

PETER PARKER ANGST????❤️🫡🛬🤭😍🗣🙀🫡😀🫡🫶😀😟🫶😟❤️ (if you dont write it ill sob violently on the floor ☹️)

we could call it even

tasm!peter x fem!reader

summary:

"peter parker," she says, "you're like a legend around here."

warnings: unspecified angst, series, no fluff, no explanation

a/n: might i introduce a playlist entitled stupid boy which i listened to while writing this (and the other parts????)

*

there's a specific time of night that is appropriate to go to the market. 

or inappropriate, depending on how old you are. 

if you're in your sixties and sometimes feel like your joints are just notches that need to be oiled, midnight probably isn't your designed time for grocery shopping. seven in the morning is typically the best time for swollen lungs and--literal--broken hearts. 

but if you're you, exhausted from running around all day, unpleasant from all of the people you've talked to, and trying to avoid anyone (everyone) you might know--and secrets you don't feel like sharing--then midnight is a perfect time. and perfectly normal, thank you very much.

you're not even sure why meyer's is open this late. there's no way the owner, jerry, is staying up until midnight to check out the lowlifes or drunk teenagers stopping by, and you know that these aren't prime business hours--evident by the crickets you can hear behind the 'fresh produce' section. maybe he forgets that it's open, and that susan--the only person willing to work here--is still on the clock. or maybe he's just taking pity on you. you don’t think he’s ever there, but maybe he hides around corners, noting the new lines on your face so he can report it back to every person in town. gossip is like a disease, and you’re never alone in a place like this. never quite at peace. 

you look around the next shelf for jerry, or a gust of wind that follows him running away. there’s only silence. the echoes of your footsteps. 

it doesn't matter why meyer’s is open. you're thankful for this time alone. or at least by yourself.

it's a welcome change to have no one judge you for your selection of deli cheese and baked goods. or the three containers of instant coffee you've hidden underneath it all. just out of habit. 

tuesday nights are yours, and the market is your chosen domain. 

usually, that is. usually, you're all alone. usually, you can run around on the carts and pick up anything you accidentally knock over. you can spill an entire bottle of wine on the floor and no one will blink an eye. jerry wouldn’t even be able to hear it from three feet away.

but tonight--on this tuesday when your feet hurt a little bit more than necessary, and your eyes are twitching at all of the lights--apparently you're not alone. 

which you wished you would have realized before you started humming 'single ladies' a bit too loudly. 

you wished you would have skipped shopping at all, really, as soon as you see his face. 

his wide eyes--surprised and silvered by age, much like yours--and his open mouth.

in a different world, you would be shocked--shocked instead of scared--and you might run to him. you might ask him why he didn't tell you he was coming? what is he doing here? in a different world, you two would be the only people in the market and it would be fine. 

it might even be great. 

this subtle shift in autonomy wouldn’t hurt the peace you’re looking for on this tuesday night.

there wouldn't be this obvious horror story standing between the two of you, this looming presence. the history of a thousand lies, bruise after bruise, and scars so red that they could burn through the ground. glass shattered around your feet.

the lights might as well start flickering. you should probably call out "hello?" even though he's right in front of you, and if he was going to murder you, he probably wouldn't answer. a door should creak. 

you should probably go. 

you should probably run away before he can take a step closer. you don't look a threat in the eye and smile at it. you don't feed a stray cat. 

it always comes back. 

why is he here? 

you take a step away. as soon as you notice him--behind, between, all over you--silence ensues. you might as well be at a loss for words. you don't have much to say to him. 

not to that look in his eyes, or his receding hairline, or that peak on his mouth. 

because peter would be here. at this time. and he would be trying to hide a smile, a smirk, when he's not even supposed to be within a five-hundred-foot vicinity of you. 

actually, maybe you forgot to mail that restraining order. 

but the words come out anyway because your body has always betrayed you when it comes to him. 

"peter?" you blurt out, and just saying the word stirs the simmering feeling inside of you. just saying his name is enough of a warning. 

"hey," he whispers and takes a step closer. you step back. he leans away like he knows his proximity is toxic. "sorry, i didn't mean to scare you." 

i didn't mean to. 

and yet. 

you breathe and forget how to blink. he might disappear. "peter," you repeat, as a form of masochism. you don't breathe at all. 

"sorry," he says, again. he doesn't say what for. there could be a million things. 

"um," you choke out, looking around--away from him and his manipulative eyes. "what?" you laugh to yourself, hand running over your face. you roll your eyes back into your head and laugh again. you shake your head. 

you look at peter, at his furrowed brow and inward stance, and you snort. look away from him before it's too late. 

you're laughing like something is funny. it's not. 

it's really not. 

"are you..." peter is swallowing. you'd like to pretend that his voice is hollow and cold, much like that cave inside your chest, but it's not. you recognize that concern, that softness in his voice that used to be just yours. "are you okay?" 

you almost giggle at him. it comes out as more of a cough. 

you wonder if you look like a ghost. some remanent of who you used to be--the person that only peter used to know.

"peter," you sigh, and step away from your cart. into the shelf you've been backing yourself into. 

you step away from him, still shaking your head. 

"i've got to--" you trip as you turn around and say to mostly yourself, "i've got to go." 

groceries, and peter, be damned, you think, as you walk out of the building and prepare yourself to never ever come back. 

it wouldn't be the first time. 

*

you are having your daily debate with mrs. brooke about the amount of calories in each pastry, in which you tell her that you only measure the amount of pleasure someone might get out of each one—which earns you a lovely sneer—and that she should try the blueberry scone. 

she always rolls her eyes at you, says something about watching her weight even though she’s looked the same since you were five years old and sneaking through her yard to catch the neighborhood cat. and then she leaves with a breakfast sandwich. 

it’s actually one of the most enjoyable parts of your day. 

here’s the thing about knowing every single person that comes into the shop: you know exactly what they’re going to order, and you know what type of conversation you’re going to have with them. 

mrs. brooke always stresses about her breakfast, her smile a tense sort of pleasant, but by the time she leaves her head is held a little higher. if she chooses the sandwich instead of the scone, then she’s started her day off right. you used to feel exasperated by her indecisive nature, but now you find it kind of adorable. 

mr. meyer—jerry—just comes in so he can complain about the surplus of options on your menu. he wants a black coffee, and he wants to complain. you always smile at him and ask if he’s sure he doesn’t want to try the raspberry green tea. he finds this less than humorous. 

every kid wants some kind of hot chocolate—which you actually have an excessive amount of—and no matter what their parents say, you sneak some extra marshmallows in. and everyone pretends otherwise. 

susan—your kindergarten teacher, now friend—asks if you’ve met anyone special lately. it doesn’t matter that the selection of single people your age is always the same. there’s got to be someone special, she says to you and leaves with a cider she tells everyone is a latte. 

there are the people who want their lattes and mochas, those who want some alternative milk that they complain about—even though you’ve tried every brand on earth—there are the people who don’t ever buy anything, and just come in to pretend they want something and talk to you. they gossip about the other people in town as if you aren’t well aware of everything that goes on.

you roll your eyes, but you appreciate the company. things get pretty boring when you can guess everyone’s schedule. 

but you like your tiny tea shop. you like the consistency. you enjoy the smiles you throw out, and the complaints you receive. it’s a routine, and nothing goes wrong. you're in control of this one thing, and that's just how you like it. 

in control, that is, of course, until you see him when mrs. brooke is walking away. 

“oh!” she says, pausing, her drink shaking in hand, her pink fingernails a smudge against the shadow suddenly coming from right in front of you. she is just a foot too close to him. “is that peter parker?” she asks, saying his voice like an omen, turning around so she can set her cup and bag down, and then hugging him so hard you can see her muscles working beneath her sleeve. 

“hey, mrs. brooke,” peter wheezes out, a strangled smile on his aged face. his same eyes.

he is just as surprised as you at her sudden outburst, the cooing noises she's making as she attempts to crumble him.

“look how handsome you’ve gotten! and so strong. what are those new yorkers doing with you?” 

“definitely not trying to squeeze me to death.” 

mrs. brooke laughs, somewhat vindictively, and she turns back around to look at you, with wide eyes. “did you know he was in town, dear? why didn’t you say anything? i almost had a heart attack.” 

peter clears his throat before you can throw any type of face on. any mask. “it’s a surprise,” he mock whispers, and his eyes dash to yours, then away, just as quick. “don’t tell anyone.” 

“it’s not like they’d believe me anyway,” she scoffs, “you’re a legend around here.” 

“i’m honored.” 

she laughs again, then grabs her cup. “oh,” she whispers, too loud. her eyes are tight, as if she’s intruded. “of course. i’ll leave and let you two talk.” 

and within a blink of an eye, she is running out of the shop, faster than you’ve ever seen anyone escape from here. 

and peter is there, standing in front of you. his face is smooth, calm, his eyes roaming over your face like he still has the privilege of knowing any of it. 

and your heart might be racing, if it was still there. 

"hi," he whispers. it is quiet enough for you to feel it in your chest. his voice and the memory of it. 

does he sound different? has he really changed that much in the last two years? is his face a bit worn? are his eyes a different color? 

but it doesn’t matter what rattles through your head—when you look at peter, you just see him. your peter. 

except that he’s completely different. 

you clear your throat, looking away and pushing off of the counter. “what can i get you?” 

peter blinks. “oh, um…” he looks at the menu above your head, back to you. “what—“ he swallows. “what would you recommend?” 

“it’s all good.” your voice is clipped. you should’ve said pure brewed black tea, no ice, no sweetener, no cup. just to get him out of here. you should've recommended the starbucks three towns over.

he swallows, again. a hand rakes through his hair. “i… just a sec.” 

there is a single second where you grant him the patience you would give every other customer—smile politely and let them know to ask if they have any questions. a single second where you treat him like anybody else. 

and then you say: “do you want a mocha, peter?” with an anger that shouldn’t—can’t—be contained inside of you. 

you wince at his name. the singe of his brand on you, going down your throat. 

peter seems to watch this on your face, because he’s even quieter when he answers, “sure, that’d be great.” 

at least some things haven’t changed.

so you grab a cup, writing his name on it, and move to grab the milk. 

you turn around and pretend like you’ve just forgotten he’s there. 

peter doesn’t take this hint. 

“so…” he says, his feet are loud as they tap on the ground. “you still work here, huh?” 

you barely grunt a response, spilling chocolate in the cup recklessly. if peter dies of a clogged artery it won’t be your fault. 

“that’s nice. felix always loved you. and you loved working here, back in highschool.” you have to face him as you steam the milk, and you try not to pointedly stare. not to roll your eyes or hiss at him. “it’s different though. the decor, i mean. but nice. i like it. did you do it?” 

“yes.” 

you grab his cup, pouring the milk and shoving the cap on it. “here,” your fingertips burn as you pass it to him, and you don’t think it’s because of the drink. 

“thank you.” 

you both stand there; peter blinks and doesn’t leave. 

he coughs. “i didn’t pay.”

“mrs. brooke would kill me if i made you pay for your first drink back home.” 

“well, she knows where you live,” his lip twitches, but he doesn’t laugh. 

and neither do you. 

“is it just you here?” he asks. “no felix?” 

“he sold me the shop a year ago.” 

his eyes widen. “oh. oh! that’s great. congrats.” 

“thank you.” 

you don’t move your eyes from his face, because it’s suddenly not fair that he’s here. that he’s allowed to intrude like this. 

“it’s good to see you,” peter relents, a fake smile playing on his lips. 

you falter. your heart turns in your chest, just so it doesn’t have to look at him anymore. “i’m working, okay?” you say, whispering. “i can't do this right now.” 

“right. yeah.” peter trips on a step back. his eyes are scanning your face again. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t—“ he blows out a breath. “i’m sorry.” 

you nod. watch the ground as he stumbles over it. 

“i mean it though,” he adds, like he hadn’t thought about it. “it’s good to see you.” 

and then peter swallows. you blink at him. 

when he turns around the bell rings as he pushes it. and peter doesn’t look back. 

he’s right about one thing, at least. it is nostalgic. 

*

"when were you going to tell me?" your mom asks, leaning against her kitchen counter--the same one you scribbled on as a kid, smiley faces still apparent. she's doing that fake smile thing. the one that makes you want to storm off and slam the door like some mistreated teenager. 

you don't, but both of you know that you think about it. for at least five seconds

"tell you what?" you ask, instead, setting the groceries you brought for her on the counter. 

"about peter." 

your eyes close. he would follow you around, wherever you go. he's probably hiding in some vent, smiling maliciously. 

there's that teasing voice in your head saying small town, small small town, but you just turn around, ignoring it, and her, and raise a brow. "peter parker?" you repeat, rhetorically. "twenty-six, new york. brown hair, brown eyes. lived here his whole life, has an aunt who lives next door, tried to steal our cat when he was nine..." you drawl off, making a point to smile. "ringing any bells?" 

she throws a dish towel at you. "you know thats not what i meant." 

"do i?" 

you wipe the counter with the towel, then fold it nicely on the counter, all the while avoiding your mother's eyes. 

but you know she won't leave it alone. the same way she hasnt left you alone once in the past four years, like she can dig your feelings up from whatever grave you buried them in.

there's a part of you that wants to crawl over to her and ask her to make you some hot chocolate, to watch some childrens movie on the couch with you. you want to be the little kid who would've depended on that knowing glance she's still giving you. the little kid who idolized her and wasn't afraid to admit the truth--even if you did steal that chocolate bar from under her sink.

but you're grown, and this doesn't matter. not in the long run, anyway. 

you look up, expectant eyes. she has your same eyes, and meets them.

"linda told nancy, who told jerry, who told me over the phone..." she shakes her head. "but may was here earlier." 

"yeah? how is she?" 

"good, busy, i'm guessing, because you know how she dotes over him." 

"yeah..." 

you fold the towel again, running your fingertips over the embrodered flowers. 

"have you seen him?" 

you swallow, and nod absentmindedly. you're not going to tell her about the grocery store. "yeah, he came into the shop yesterday." 

she taps your hand, and you let go of the rag. she hangs it back over the oven, the ebbing silence more like a threat, her hands falling to her hips. "why didn't you say anything?" 

"it's not a big deal. he came in, ordered, and then left." 

"and there were no words between the two of you?" she prods. "no wandering eyes? you just read his mind instead of taking his order?" 

you grit your teeth, rolling your eyes. "he asked for a mocha and i made it for him." 

"nothing else?" 

"he said it was nice to see me." 

she waves a hand at you. 

"and i said that i was working." you sigh, leaning against the counter. "that's all." 

"you're not freaking out?" your mom ducks her head so she can meet your eyes. her face is sullen, but her smile is genuine. 

it's like talking to a counselor. 

"why would i be freaking out? he had to come back sometime." 

she scoffs. the little necklace your dad gave her dangles from her neck, and you watch it. "i don't know," she says, using the same voice you do when she tells you not to take a tone with her. "maybe because you havent spoken to him in the last three years?" 

yeah, the same voice says, rough and patronizing, you haven't spoken to him in five years. why is that, again? 

but you snort at your mom, a defensive smile making its way to your lips as you look at her. "water under the bridge," you say, dismissing it. 

you don't want to talk about this with her. you don't want to talk about this with anyone. 

because the only person who might actually understand is the same person who left three years ago. who came back with no warning at all. 

"did may say when he got here?" you ask, voice escaping before you can stop it. 

"just a day or two ago, i think. why?" 

"is he here for the holidays?" 

"yes. she said he plans to stay until at least january. he's between jobs, i guess." 

"oh." you smack your lips and move away from her, back to the groceries, which is the reason you're here in the first place. you take out the milk jug, walking to the fridge, but a soft hand stops you. 

your mom is smiling when you turn towards her. "you don't have to talk about it," she's saying, her voice smooth and comforting. "i don't--i don't know what happened between the two of you. i just mentioned it because may said he was talking about you. it..." she drops off, wincing. 

"what?" 

"it might be good to talk to him. put the water under the bridge." 

you roll your eyes, nose twitching. you don't need to say anything, you won't. your mother is just another town gossip, and her opinion has no sway over you. 

even ask the words sink in. 

"now put the rest of those away," she says, ruffling your hair, "i know what happens when you take your 'breaks.'" 

you push her and put the milk in the fridge. 

*

you're mopping the floor when the bell rings, and a cold brush of air trails goosebumps up your skin. 

it's late enough in the season to no longer smell like the leaves falling onto the ground, or the grandesur pine needles showing off their lifespan. it's cold in the shop now, and you have three coats in the back. 

but the person who walks in is only wearing one. one you recognize from several years ago, with the holes in the sleeves from when he jumped over your fence and sprained his ankle. the stain on the front when may threw a plum soaked rag at him and you'd laughed so hard that you'd fallen to your knees on the floor and couldn't breathe. 

peter's face is wain. his eyes are cautious as they meet yours. 

you're not used to anyone coming in at 5:55. everyone knows you close at six, and the few people who'd dared to come in and order a drink a minute before you flipped your sign have learned their lesson. 

but peter hasn't learned anything. 

"i know," he says, like tracking your mind. "you close at six. may told me." 

"okay." 

you're still holding the mop, sure that his footprints would leave mud all over your floors. 

"i don't want to buy anything. or--" he breathes out, hands wringing at his sides, probably from the cold. "i will. if you want me to. but that's not why i came. i wanted to see if you..." 

he does a sweep over you, and his words fall in the air, as if he's just realized something. 

you look down at the snowflake apron your mom bought last year. it's not that dirty. 

you look back up, brows furrowed, and peter's expression matches yours. "yes?" you prod, feeling that anger simmer in the core of your chest. but you've been rude enough to him. 

your mom's words ring out in your head. 

it might be good to talk to him. 

peter swallows, whatever emotion on his face fading. "i wanted to see if you would go to dinner with me. or take a walk. or--or i'll buy you groceries, since you left yours the other night. it doesn't matter. i just want to... talk to you." 

"you want to talk to me?" 

peter nods. "i can wait outside, while you finish." he waves a hand, like an explanation. "it doesn't have to be long. just five minutes?" 

you watch peter, his face a world of feeling that you can't recognize anymore. 

and maybe that hurts the most. not him being here, not the distance or the time you've let edge you apart, but the fact that it's changed things. peter has changed and you've just let that happen. he's got a life seperate from you and there's no one to blame. he'd reached out enough, initially. months of letting his calls go to voicemail and ignoring may when you saw her in the street. 

putting yourself back together in the misshaped way you are now. peter probably doesn't even recognize you--not like this.

maybe it's your fault. 

but you find yourself nodding anyway, ignoring the guilt seeping through the cracks of you. you nod, and peter's face changes. 

it's not the first time you've noticed his eyes, or watched relief ease into him, but it's just the same. 

"yes?" peter asks, his voice rough and dry. you look at that jacket again. 

"where's your coat?" 

"my..." peter looks down with you. "oh, my coat. all of the ones aunt may kept were too small, and i thought--" he scratches his neck. "well, i forgot how cold it gets." 

you nod, slowly. 

peter nods back. 

you stare at him a moment longer, and then break away from his unfamiliar gaze. 

"just give me five minutes. i just need to put this away, and grab my stuff, and..." you swallow. 

"okay. great. do you want to me wait outside, or should i?" he gestures around, looking as uncomfortable as you've ever seen him. 

"you can sit. just--don't get any dirt on the tablebases." 

"okay. thank you." 

you nod, one last time, and look away from him. 

your heart runs circles around peter as he sits at one of your tables, his long legs not fitting beneath it. it taunts you again and again as you try not to notice him breathing, try to ignore him completely. 

you dup the mop water, spilling it on your shoes. you wipe down the last counter, the syrup sticking to your hands like a scar. you walk around the shop trying to find something else to do so you can avoid this as long as possible. your feet are cold and your hands feel abnormally dry. maybe you need to go home and shower. maybe you shouldn't be doing this at all. 

you sit in the office for a moment, wishing you could watch peter without him knowing. scope him out before you hear what he has to say. 

and--

okay, maybe there's a part of you that's been waiting three years for this. 

that dream where he's there even though you don't want him; that moment when he apologizes and you forgive him automatically, because your heart has always been small and fragile around him; that fantasy where peter comes home and he's the same teenager you used to walk around town with at two in the morning, the same brown eyes laughing as you both slipped on ice and fell on top of eachother. 

you won't deny that you've thought about this before. what you might say to him if you got the chance. 

but as you grab your bag and hang your apron around the chair in the office, the words have gone some place else. what could you say to him to make any of this make sense? 

still, you clear your throat when you walk out, feet aching from standing all day. you blink at him as he struggles to get up, pushing your chair in, the legs scratching on the floor the only sound between the two of you. 

[doyouevenshipbr0]

borderline illiterate gruvia think piece.

happy gruvia day i guess!

so like…… im a grown woman. so believe me when i say at this point i rly couldnt care to be genuinely bothered by antis. like i will literally just block them lmao. ok yes i did write a whole fic revolving around a comment by an anti KFHDKSJWJEDK but i rly wasnt mad i was just genuinely inspired by what they said.

ANYWAYS! nonsensical 294820381002 word rant incoming from the “unbothered” grown woman.

seeing people say how gray is out of character in 100 yq/has stockholm syndrome are literally missing the entireeeee point of his and juvia’s relationship and its crazy!!

*side note, i think for the sake of helping gray’s character and development, they sacrificed a lot of cool things about juvia and a lot of her individuality which i do not like. but thats a rant for another time. btw do notttt even come for me bc she is literally still by far my fav character lmao*

im probably gonna go on for too long about this but gray’s whole fucking character throughout the whole story from beginning to end is centered around the fact that hes cold and closed off and grumpy and “too cool” and listen im not saying this is fucking rocket science or any type of transcendent literature by any means but i HAVE to point out that hes a fucking ice wizard. like. duh. im sure his character/personality was meant to go along with abilities i mean look at literally EVERYONE else in fairy tail.

ANYWAYS the reason he is this way is because he’s so used to losing all of the people he loves and even worse, hes used to so many people sacrificing themselves for him.

and it traumatizes him!! so many people hes been close to have died and he ultimately always thinks its his fault! lord knows im rusty with ft knowledge but his parents died (cant remember if it was in any type of sacrificial way teehee), Ur sacrifices herself for gray, ultear sacrifices herself for gray, and his dad dies AGAIN (once again, not sure if this was in a sacrificial manner lmao. i kindaaa think it was? maybe? shrug.). but POINT IS! theres a common theme of loved ones dying and/or sacrificing themselves for him. there might even be more people lmao idfk.

so what happens when he meets a girl who has an overwhelming and unwavering and infinite love for him?! he is freaked the fuck out!!! for a couple reasons! 1. he is so used to losing the people that love him and 2. he doesn’t even think hes deserving of any love to this degree!

then what happens? he PUSHES HER AWAY! KEEPS HER AT A DISTANCE!!!! because THATS ALL HE KNOWS!!!!!!!!! yes he has his friends who love him but no one has ever loved him in the way and abundance that JUVIA DOES! so he has to react appropriately! lots of love = lots of keeping her at an arms length!

so when he thinks he loses juvia in their fight with invel, and she comes back, dont we think it would make sense that he finally realizes he should accept his feelings for her? i mean remember when he said he promised her an answer AFTER the war? once again, like gray, pushing things off. and then he almost LOSES HER without ever telling her how he feels! so gray realizes life is short! theres no use in trying to deny ur feelings! these are common themes in like 85% of my gruvia drabbles lmao.

im not even saying that it was love at first sight for him and that gray liked her from the jump. bc i dont think thats true. i think we can finally see outward romantic feelings for juvia right after the tartaros arc, when juvia visits gray at his parents’ grave. but before that, i think juvia was a friend (wellll i feel like after the tenrou island arc he liked her more than a friend, but he didnt really realize how much more) who he cared about, and truly didnt know what to make of her because like i said, hes never known a person to love him so much and actually not die LMAO.

but my point is, juvia is the perfect person to be gray’s romantic partner. she is a person so full of love and so happy to love and she doesnt care who knows it. she is unequivocally herself and she wears her heart on her sleeve to the upmost extent.

it literally only makes sense for his character to end up with her!

u could argue gray doesnt need to end up with anyone at all bc he has his friendsssss and likeeee. sureee. fine. but what fun is that? i personally want to see the scared-of-love grump to find his person. i think, again, thats kind of the point of gray’s character- learning u are worthy of love, accepting love, and learning to love openly.

im sorry but literally what better happy ending for him than to be with juvia?

so fast forward to 100 yq, where he is just sooooo out of character apparently. dont we think that may actually be…. character development?

the boy who probably couldn’t even fathom a romantic relationship is now finally accepting he’s in love. he’s done pushing it off, he’s done denying, he’s done depriving himself of feeling love. thats a step in the right direction! now what? in true gray fashion, he thinks hes still not good enough! and that’s where we are now. he’s not confident, he thinks he’s weak, and he thinks he cant protect her. why? he knows she loves him. he knows he’s objectively a strong wizard. so why does he feel inadequate? CIRCLE BACK!!! TO WHO GRAY IS AS A PERSON!!!! SINCE DAY ONE!!! constantly in fear of losing his loved ones! thinking he can’t protect them! SCARED TO LOVE!

like im sorry the proof is soooo in the pudding and i totally understand if gruvia isn’t ur cup of tea but to say things arent making sense is silly to me! they actually make perfect sense!

and yknow what. im gonna go from a romantic standpoint to a realist standpoint. years ago, mashima said he likes gray and juvias dynamic and didnt have anything serious in mind for them anytime soon. so he kept that going for literally the entire series. well. he ended fairy tail alluding to the fact that gray and juvia were kinda together at that point. or he at least ended it with the pretty obvious conclusion that gray does in fact have feelings for juvia. so then when ft 100 yq starts what was he supposed to do? act like all of their development in the last arc never happened? that would be kinda hard to do!

whatever i just hope at least like 3 of these sentences were coherent lmao u guys get my point

[ninyard]

Hii, I guess this is a question not only for you but also your followers. Why wouldn't it be ok to like aftg? Like I've seen people say is problematic? But the only thing I've seen criticized is how unrealistic it is and like is a book so... idk maybe I lack critical thinking on some topics so if anyone could point me where to look I'd love to keep liking these books while being aware of it's failings :3

this is an interesting question! i guess the biggest part of whether it wouldn't be "okay" for someone to read aftg would be somewhat down to personal tastes.

re: the unrealistic part, i think if you go into a lot of books expecting them to be "realistic" you'll probably find there's a lot out there that just... isn't. i myself think that 90% of the biggest arguments i've seen about it's realism are from people who 1) refuse to suspend disbelief for the sake of enjoyment or 2) go into it with a certain expectation as to how realistic it's going to be before reading.

you can pick apart a million different books and movies and tv shows out there and find "unrealistic" parts in them all. and what do people say is even unrealistic about it? the different languages that are spoken in it? the trauma all the characters have? i understand it, to some degree, but i think people who think that fiction that is unrealistic = fiction that is bad, are probably just reading the wrong things. and that's fine. it's personal taste. but not everything has to be realistic for someone to enjoy it. that's just me.

as for the problematic aspects of it, i guess my gut instinct is to say that's once again down to personal perspective and opinion. i personally don't like or agree with some things in it, but i don't know if i can definitively say, oh it's problematic for this reason or that reason. are there triggering topics in aftg? are there uncomfortable scenes and problematic things that the characters do and say? are there bad people who do bad things? yes. that's just the truth. does that make the books themselves inherently problematic? i don't think so. but maybe i'm wrong with that. i don't know.

if you try to justify and explain and dissect everything that happens or is said in a book like aftg, i think you can probably find yourself in a real rabbit hole of is this appropriate? is this okay? is this problematic? i just feel that, it's a book, that has shitty things said and done in it, and it's up to you yourself whether you think those shitty things cross the line of being problematic or not. there's limits to everything, and while i dont think aftg crosses those limits, it doesn't mean i think it's perfect or an exception to criticism.

i guess what i mean is that if you try to find things wrong with aftg, you'll probably find something. it's not perfect. you could pick it apart if you really wanted to. but i suppose i'm just happy enough to enjoy it without doing that because it is what it is. it's a book about people who have had shitty things happen in their lives, about people who say and do shitty things, but i don't think it glamorises or makes those shitty things okay. me liking the series also doesn't mean i'm 100% a-okay super cool with everything that happens in it either. i am not the media i consume or enjoy.

but it's also really important to listen to people who talk about things that do personally hurt them or make them feel like they're not seen for who they are or what they've been through. i can say that i personally am not offended or hurt by 99% of what happens, but that doesn't invalidate someone who was. that doesn't invalidate other people who aren't me who say "it's problematic for x reason". i'm happy to share any insights into this if anyone wants to send them my way!

maybe this isn't a good answer to your question and i'm still not sure if i've gotten my point across properly. there's a million things problematic about aftg, i guess, but it's just about where you draw the line between the problematic content inside the series, and it maybe being a problematic series from the outside. i don't know exactly where to point you towards to have a balanced understanding of why it might be okay vs not okay. i'd just say to keep an open mind and listen to what people say when they raise their concerns about it.

[fragileinthemaking]

hii, i hope youre doing well today and i was curious about some things about your ed (possible tw later?). I've been in your situation (somewhat, not to this extent) and am currently bul1mic with exercise as the form of purging/slowly healing idk. I wanted to know first of all how do you manage to burn more than 1k calories in a day because that is literally INSANE, I never thought that its possibls so I'm really really curious about your methods.

I also wanted to know your opinion on healing and the ed itself. Do you wish you never had one, do you hate counting c@ls, do you miss your life before the ed? Did it help you in any way (did you notice physical changes)? Are you experiencing any health problems because of it, are you dizzy or yellowish, have you ever fainted? Do you feel proud when skipping meals or anybody points out something ab the ed? Do you wish to heal but don't have the courage/will to, are you forced into healing, are you comfortable in the ed and want to continue and not start a healing process? How do you feel when you overeat or can't exercise the c@ls out? How do you feel about the future, do you wish to continue like so, do you wish to heal or neither of them?

I know it's A LOT of questions actually and I'm really sorry about it, I will explain now. When I was deep in my ed I never actually thought about it and what is going on with my life and I'm genuinely curious as to how it sounds and how my perspective was, I'm really trying not to offend you right now so please don't answer to anything if I'm offending you in any way!!

Hii I'm fine with any questions but damn that's alot (not in a negative way just alot of words and im bad at reading large groups of text)

First of all tw for ed stuff anyone that doesnt want to see this

with the burning 1k c4ls. my (almost) daily exercise typically burns around 500-700. secondly im a minor, im in school, pe is a legal requirement and that burns between 300-900 depending on what we do so combining those i can burn up to 1600 a day or if i do my normal stuff for twice as long that can also reach 1000 which i sometimes do on weekends when i have more time.

healing is something which if you want i highly encourage you get. i wish i had never gotten one, i wish i had never started counting c4ls, i wish i had spoken to someone before it got worse. i no longer feel like im able to get help and ive gotten myself to deep in the rabbit hole to get my mindset out so if you want help and its never to late then do it. get the help you need ill support you all the way.

i hate counting c4ls. i only eat in public when i have to and i always have to secretly look at the c4ls and hope nobody sees. ive written them on my hand afew times when theyre really random numbers and have been questioned about it so just had to lie to my friends which i hate doing. life before an ed fells like it would be so much more free and i would be more careless and do whatever i want without wondering how many c4ls in burning/gaining from that activity. if i could go back to when i started having an ed i absolutely would and change whatever i can to not end up like this.

the only physical symptom ive had is my stomach getting smaller but im waiting for the day my thighs / ass (idk what a more appropriate name would be) get smaller as they make me insecure. im not sure if its from having an ed but im almost always dizzy espescially when i stand up to fast. ive never fainted or been yellowed.

when i skip i dont feel proud more like im doing something correct and nobodys ever pointed out an ed but if they did i would deny it but secretly be proud someone noticed. i dont want to heal. i might have in the past but currently i have no plan to. i want to continue my ed without help. (my mindset is just 'if its a problem its your job to fix it' and i dont want to fix it). ive been put in counselling which has 6(i think) sessions left but if they think im really bad then i might be put in actual therapy. ive hinted about an ed with things like 'i often skip meals' and 'i just forget' or 'i dont have an appetite' and secretly hope they might catch on and get me help.

when i overeat or cant burn the c4ls i just feel sick and like im a failure. theres not really anything else i just feel bad and like i failed at having an ed. for the future my main goal is to reach my ugw and stay there getting lower if possible but not higher unless i really want help.

That was alot of questions but i feel like this is a place where i can talk about whatever(especially my ed) without anyone judging me or knowing who i am. im glad i could think about my ed on a deeper level other than just 'hmm weight be gone pls' so like thanks?? idk i hope i answered everything i might have missed a question. im always open to any question anyone has i just like talking to people and getting to know them.

[sn0wp1anets]

observations about joel (mostly speech stuff) and interactions with others bc ive been hyperfixated since the beginning of time (also theres alot of bs commentary im sorry)

general stuff:

very very british like extremely british

'bloody' and 'blooming' ALOT - when he's annoyed or shocked or offended (im gonna call this his pseudo swearing for the rest of this for convenience)

instead of very he says 'well' sometimes (e.g. "this bloody pico park music is well annoying) and "absolutely"

instead of really he says 'proper' sometimes so "stress is proper northern" etc

instead of 'i haven't' he says "i've not"

he gives an explanation for basically everything he does and instead of because he says 'as' alot

'to be honest' "i bloody hate woodwork to be honest" (sometimes he says 'to be honest with you' too)

'innit' occasionally "it's like waterslide innit"

'like so'

'by the look of it'

he gets irritated really easily - "for goodness sake" and he'll start cutting himself off alot "this bloody-" and also his voice gets much more high pitched and his pseudo swearing gets way more frequent. also 'blooming heck'

(and also this isn't super relevant but when he gets mad all his friends start commenting on it and its the funniest thing- in the overcooked stream as soon as he starts getting annoyed everyones like 'oh here he is')

i didn't know if i should put this in a specific section but he says 'babe' alot - not just to lizzie but to jimmy like ALOT and also in general - i'll talk about this a bit more later tho !

pauses alot: in between words/phrases, and also before he answers questions (this is not as often but also if he wants someone to stop him- he was playing scrabble and was basically asking if someone could spell out vagina so he was slowly going 'and a g....and an i...and a n...' etcetc idk this isnt relevant i just thought it was worth mentioning)

he's kinda an oversharer 😭 ? (this is lh hes 31 im sure he shares what he thinks is appropriate) but at any given moment he starts giving details about his life- a kinda memorable example of this is in mcc26(?) when w*lbur made fun of his accent so he started telling a story about his grandfather and giving alot of details about him after he said he couldnt talk too much about it AND grian begged him to stop

repeats things (especially when he's annoyed) : "game's a bloody joke. game's a bloody joke"

he basically never says 'oh my god' its always 'oh my gosh' or 'oh gosh' sometimes its 'oh jesus'

his voice is generally higher pitched and more expressive in videos than in streams but this is more of a general cc thing than a specific joel thing

very confident in his builds (AS HE SHOULD BE !!!) and he'll share his thoughts alot : "i think it's come together really well" "lovely" "i'm really happy with it/with how it's turned out" etcetc

when he narrates he uses a mixture of 'I' and 'We'. what i've noticed is he uses I for his thoughts ("i feel like" "i think") and we for everything else ("we need" "we're quite high in the sky" etc)

'genuinely'

'what (are) you on about'

'what the heck'

he will say very random (kind of odd) things just out of nowhere as if its normal and he'll only realize it's weird when someone questions it? e.g. the mumbo trauma dumping bit in SL, or in one of jimmy's streams he said 'until i get back to the hotel if yk what i mean' and jimmys like 'i dont' and joel just goes 'idk either'

accent stuff:

it's really recognizable idk what to say

very northern: hes from yorkshire - his accent used to be stronger in his old videos but you can definitely still hear it (like its still super different from grian or like mumbo idk)

his 'th' sounds come out as 'f' (idk if this is an accent thing or a joel thing but he's talked about it and said his family members have it too)

again not sure if this is an accent or joel thing but when he says any word with 'con' he says it kinda differently- it's hard to describe but for example when most people say convention the 'on' sound is more like a 'un' sound? whereas with joel its very much an 'o' sound like in 'box' or 'coffee' (genuinely have no idea how else to explain it but in phonetic symbols- joel essentially never says /ʌ/ it's almost always /ɒ/ when its a 'con' word)

jimmy-

NICKNAMES !!! 'jim' is used alot - more than anyone else and one of the only people who calls him this. hes used 'mr neutron' too (idk how many times'

(he also doesnt actually say tim/timmy often and when he does its exclusively when grian is present)

typical british male friendship nicknames: 'lad' 'big man'

when he joins jimmy's stream he always says hi in a very dramatic way?? usually with a pretty deep voice (idk this is just something i noticed)

he calls him a loser alot?

(this might be more of a bad boys point) but joel is generally not that mean to jimmy? definitely he's meaner than he was a few years ago but that makes sense because they weren't as close but. he'll call him a loser and stupid/idiot sometimes but his main 'bullying jimmy' momentsare usually always when he's with someone else (usually grian, sometimes fwhip)

'what are you doing jimmy' or sometimes 'what are you doing with your life'

lizzie:

'babe' like all the time. once lizzie mentioned that they don't even really use each other's names alot because they just say 'babe' all the time

oli:

ok so joel really doesn't use that much like modern internet language but oli does and then joel will pick up on it (its cute but also horrifying sometimes)- he kept saying 'dogs' in reference to feet after oli said it

they flirt alot but differently to how he does with jimmy (hes more passive whereas with jimmy he initiates it more idk how else to describe it)

he calls him 'man' sometimes

he's also really giggly around oli theyre adorable

(tbh theres so much more to say about oli and lizzie but idk if i have the energy and time for like 10+ years of interactions rn - and honestly alot more for everyone else too but like.)

grian:

in general joel picks up on people's energy etc and mimics it alot but it happens so much with grian specifically - this sounds very weird but the more time he spends with grian in one go the more he starts to act like grian (especially with interactions with jimmy)

[austinsastrology8991]

> NUMEROLOGY THEORY < get mad

This is easily my most controversial post. but if you want to watch me spit in numerology face, then please read away

Alright i love my numerology. But i think its complete bullshit. Ive read so many sites and intepretations but they just say the same shit everytime, but when they explain themselves im like wtf that barely makes sense - for example life path 3 is jupiter, and it means; creativity, communication, inspiration. And i guess it makes enough sense to not question it. but i question everything, and i think we can do better than that >And thats where i come innnnn >>> 1 sun : MERCURY - Mercury is the first planet of our solar system, the sun aint a planet it just bright - all life path 1's dont act sunny at all, they act smart and calculated and they are 'independent' but the concept of the sun is not independent - the sun loves to share - mercury is independent, because to have an opinion requires an independent thought from others perspectives. - 'goal orientated' - so we all just don't care about our goals? bull shit fuck that, sounds like a mercury thing to only care about ur own opinion anyway - the sun likes to share and be the 'star' 1 energy don't it focused (like mercury) 2 moon : VENUS - the moon is not about the other (2 people) moon is technically a selfish energy, its about how you feel (yes people make you feel s type of way, but if you lonely, you gonna feel like shit anyway) venus is more appropriate planet for 2, becasuse 2 people requires diplomacy snd sharing, not the moon, the moon acts as a reflection, but it is not diplomatic, its selfish (but adorable) it takes 2 people to love and thats what venus all about, thasts why 2 should be venus (not 6 i'll get into dat) but this one should be pretty straightforward 3 Jupiter : EARTH - Jupiter is abundance and it could be 3 but theres a better answer for jupiter (coming up) 3 is earth because 3 is the holy trinity, god clearly loves earth the most, so its 3 okay, and everyone likes 3 (apparently) 3 is creative - there is no planet more colourful than earth - 3 is communicstion (everything on earth makes a lot of noise) and its inspiring - everywhere you look theres something inspirational on earth - you cant say that about any other planet - the rest of them just got a surface i guess 4 Uranus : Mars - whoever made up 4 as uranus imma slap the shit outta. 4 is a stable number (4 corners to mske s house) 4 is stability -4 is the emperor in tarot - uranus is nothing like that uranus is a crazy as fuck boiiiiiii. mars is far more appropriate, mars wants something it gets it (like emperor, in tarot) also a square is a 4, and thst mskes sense for mars because he all about conflict and competition. also they practical and sensible, and if your as bold as mars, your dsmn right you better be pracitcal or your gonna look like a fool and mars dont want thst.

5 Mercury : Jupiter - i understand 5 is about adventure and exploring, but its so much more fitting for it to be jupiter than fkn mercury. you see how dumb this shit is now??? look at the bigger picturre yall; numerologists didnt study the planets and it shows. 'change and progress' thats jupiters schtick, well hell its a little uranusy but mercury is a stretch. also everyone likes jupiter snd thsts why he 5 - he in the middle because everyone like him 6 Venus : Saturn - now ik your thinking saturn is karma and karma is infinite so it should be 8. well no your wrong, karma is not infinite. its however much you do you get back > think about how you draw the number 6 - you write a line (you do something) and it comes right back at ya (the cirlce bit). its also the lovers because saturn got a ring and everyone wanna find their special person to put a ring on > also saturn loves you, but he loves smacking you too. just like someone who loves you 7 Neptune : Uranus - ok this one does make some sense... because its about solitude and introspection... but anyway it took god 7 days to make the world - and the creation of the world changed the game you could say (like uranus is about change) - it also makes sense for uranus, because to change the world, you gotta observe it not be apart of it (to understand how it works) but you know what neptune does make sense here, so i get where they coming from

8 saturn : Neptune - wanna know what actually infinite? your spirit, spirituality, GOD IS INFINiTE - not yo karma - jesus fkn christ lawd save us and please forgive me for saying yo name in vain as many times as i do but WAT DA FUCK HAPPENED - Ik its associated with being a boss or a leader but to me its about achieving yo dreams, the real boss is someone like 6 or 4 (saturn - mars) and ik you thkink 6 is about love - but yall got no clue how much strength and fortitude it takes to love and it shows, thsts why saturn slaps you in the face as often as he be do > A leader must be in tune with god or they gonna get cancelled and not be givin leadership (dont forget who in charge you little shit)

9 Mars : Pluto - "embarking on a lifelong quest to quench an insatiable thirst for growth and new experiences" um okay - so how tf is that mars? mars is thirsty, but he dont care about growth he just wants some pussy. BUt pluto... now that makes more sense. Pluto wants the truth no mstter the price, and our life path 9's are on a infinite journey of digging and digging and thats what pluto do. pluto will literally put himself in jail just to see whst it feels like, mars will just fight everything, to attain his goals. pluto willl let you punch him to see how hard you punch. Stay dumb - yes i made this up - just as the old numerologists made it up - you dont have to believe me, thats why i dont believe in you.

I also believe if god is real, why wouldn't it be simple? why not correlate each number (and there only 9 numbers - excluding 0) why would it not be in the order god intended it to be?

[paingoes]

How would Paris have turned out as a person if Sabina had somehow been able to get away (with Paris in tow) from Constantine, and Paris had been raised by his mom and her side of the family, without his dad's involvement? (This is assuming that Constantine somehow couldn't/doesn't go after them.)

augh :,) this answer got long sorry

cw for mentions of rape, domestic abuse, child abuse, familial whump, angst

whenever i think about any “Sabina Lives” AU i always picture it as her still being with Constantine at Thales and i have a pretty good idea of what Paris turns out like there — more conscientious, quieter. raised by his mom but w both of them still living in the same environment w their abuser.

ive never considered an AU where constantine is out of the picture!

i think. its going to be difficult. i imagine they leave at the same time sabina dies in canon, so paris would only be seven.

most of the explicit physical abuse between constantine and sabina tapers off after paris is born. i think by seven he understands that theyre not in love or anything but he doesnt understand that the relationship is abusive. so i dont think hes really going to understand why theyre leaving and sabina is not going to be able to explain it to him in a way thats age appropriate. she really doesnt want to explain it all actually!

this is why its difficult. like in any circumstance paris is just kind of a difficult kid because he has genuine issues w ADHD and mood swings that require a pretty high level of support. these are exacerbated in canon because of how constantine deals w them but they would be there either way. its going to be hard to explain to him why they left in a way that makes sense and so hes really going to interpret it as her having robbed him of being prince!

so in the beginning he’s actually more spoiled and entitled than he was in canon and acts out a lot. but he will adjust to it after he realizes that no amount of complaining will ever get sabina to take him back. and after enough time he also realizes that he isnt constantly holding tension in his body the way he did around constantine so maybe being away from him isnt actually that bad?

anyway he still laments his lost royalty a lot and will complain about it (has no idea how miserable he would have been) but he doesnt have a lot of trouble actually adjusting to provincial life. on the whole hes a lot happier to be around people who he doesnt constantly have to worry about using or backstabbing him. he has cousins in this one :)

once he’s thirteen, sabina tells him everything. he’s definitely a little young to be hearing the whole story but she thinks he can handle it and deserves some explanation for what happened in his early childhood and why her side of the family tends to view him a bit differently.*

Immediate guilt. This immediately recontextualizes Paris’s entire life and he feels really bad about having been so difficult w her about it before. He becomes a lot more protective of her after this and really hates his father. this is the kind of knowledge that basically permanently distinguishes you from other people your age so paris is going to be a bit more emotionally mature and empathetic. gets called an “old soul”. lol :(

but the overall answer is that he ends up a lot more mellow and probably more intelligent/empathetic.

*Selene is a bit cold to Paris in canon because he is Constantine’s son and he’s a product of rape. In canon she is more or less justified in viewing Paris as being like Constantine because he has perpetuated that same cycle of abuse against Delta and carried out the imperial will. But even if he hadn’t, she’d still feel negatively towards him. But this really only extends to Selene and a few other adults in the family. Selene’s kids are cool with him and she doesn’t prevent them from playing together. She just keeps an eye on Paris when they do.

[fadelbison]

no but THK cast foursome fic where they keep daring each other to do wilder and wilder stuff until it ends in straight up sex because they ARE insufferable like that.

pretty please?

oh man i started writing this for you i just remembered and I dont even know if you're still here but I really struggled with how it should end. i dont know im stuck between first getting really jealous and halting the night early or getting goaded into going back to khaotung's shiny new house and getting down and dirty about it

Anyway you get a fic AND a poll:

[FirstKhaotung + JoongDunk; PG:13]

“P’Fiiiiiirrrr~~~~~~~”

Joong says in a honeyed little whine as he swings to take the seat next to him, his arm slinging around First’s shoulder. He just finished singing some current top 10 pop song that First hasn’t even gotten around to hearing before tonight. They’ve been generous with drinks tonight, it’s been a while since all four of them were free of a morning schedule and the atmosphere is amped with an excitement that’s been building the whole night. There’s a glint in Joong’s eyes and he’s smiling wide, showing all his teeth. First doesn’t know what is going to come out of Joong’s mouth next but he does know that 1) it will be an outrageous question and 2) the answer should be a resounding “No!” 

“Wanna play truth and dare?”

Joong is drunk, he smells more like the sickly sweet corn syrup of his chaser than alcohol but the way he’s picking at First’s collar only underscores his initial misgivings. But before First can say anything, Dunk bangs loudly on the table and Khaotung cheers and saunters over to where Joong and First are huddled.

“That’s a gre~~~attt idea, right?” Khaotung sits on the other side of First, sandwiching him in but also somehow managing to drape himself across First’s lap to hug Joong’s shoulder, “Nong Joong you only have - what was it you said the other day? - oh yeah! Big brained ideas, Nong Joong only has the biggest brain ideas.” Khaotung stretches his arms out wide when he says ‘big’ the second time, only misses smacking First and Joong because they both duck. Khaotung wobbles when his gesture throws him off balance from the precarious perch he’s put himself on.

“I think we’ve had enough fun for tonight.” First says, he puts his hand on Khaotung’s back to steady him, “Don’t you?”

Khaotung sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry at him while the rest boo loudly.

“C’mon, P’Fir. Don’t leave, we won’t have a chance like this for a while.”

The schedule for the next two months he’s been handed yesterday was rough. And the first draft is usually the relaxed version, First doesn’t know the next time he’ll have a weekend or be able to sleep in past 6 am. But Joong didn’t have to win him over with logic because in the next moment Khaotung says, “Let’s play, na Fir?”

“Do it properly! Do it properly!” Joong yells at the room and then somehow he and Dunk manage to co-ordinate a little chorus of, “Let’s play na P’Fiiiiir~~~~”

Khaotung is laughing with his whole face, eyes little more than crescent lines, he’s still sitting a little too close to First for what he does next; wraps a hand around First’s nape so that their faces are uncomfortably close, “Let’s play.”  And god. Forget Joong and Dunk - Khaotung is drunk. And drunk Khaotung only knows how to cheat, “na? P’Fir?” He says with a little tilt of his head.

*

Three more drinks into the night and everything starts feeling like a great idea. Thus far they have had several extremely enjoyable rounds which involved letting Joong take pictures of him with his fingers up his nose, singing modern songs in old school ballad style which Joong seemed proficient at and that Dunk seemed to know, simply wanting to show off when he gave him that dare. There were also several ill advised beer combos, Dunk had looked genuinely green after drinking his with mayonnaise, and Khaotung hiding his face as he shyly admits that there are things from the THK script he’s curious about trying out in real life.

Also, Joong is stripped down to his inner white tank, the least amount of clothes he’s legally allowed to wear in a karaoke bar which First only assumes is part of a dare since he’d gone to the bathroom and just come back to the room to find him looking like that. What First didn’t realize was that they were shifting gears into the middle school girls’ sleepover portion of the night. So First is not expecting it when Dunk looks at him and says, “Kiss the one you want, of the three of us.” And then taps his lips to make sure that First knows what he means by kiss.

First rolls his eyes, mutters a little ‘easy’ before he leans into Khaotung’s personal space just for a moment, as familiar with it as though it were his own, for the quickest little peck. Khaotung doesn’t reciprocate so much as he just lets it happen. There’s a pleased smile on his face though which makes First think that if he’d gone in for a longer kiss Khaotung would let him do that too. 

It’s an oddly comforting thought.

[thoughtyouwerentafraidofanything]

SPECIAL STUDENT

Part one

Pairings: pre cult kai anderson x female reader x cult kai anderson

Summary: youre a new professor, fresh out of university. A coworker of yours leaves work on injury resulting in a senior class unattended to. That is when you accept the responsibility to cover the senior class and ready them for their final exams, what happens when a certain senior takes a liking to you.

What happens when he likes you more than a student should.

Warnings: pre cult kai turns into cult kai, age gap, teacher x student, sub kai anderson, dom kai anderson, smut, yandere tendencies, manipulation, crying, slapping, male masterbation, grinding, forcing kissing, threatening, blackmail.

SORRY IF THIS IS NIT TO YOUR LIKING.

Trying something out here just work with me for a little bit plz😅😖

"Good afternoon ladies and gentleman, my name is professor l/n and I will be taking this class over for the remainder of the year"

You spoke to the room with forced confidence, all of their eyes on you watching as you spoke to everyone in the room you stood infornt of your desk clasping your hands together facing your crowd of new students, "your previous professor has unfortunately injured themselves and can't come to work"

You paused, the room was silent.

"I will allow questions to be asked now if anyone has any"

You waited patiently, your eyes darting around the room for any risen hands.

You walked back behind your desk and sat down on the seat that wasn't yours, although you wouldn't mind pinching it as the pillowy fabric softened your landing. "If there are none I shall move onto today's class-" you grabbed ahold of the 3 textbooks piled up on the large dark wood desk infront of you, your fingers flipped through the hundreds of pages eyes focused on the chapter number.

"I have a question"

The silence was broken, you looked up from the textbook, your eyes wandering across the lecture room, which wasn't hard thankfully as it was a rather small room, you made eye contact with a man.

"Ah, excuse me for not seeing you earlier, what is your question sir?"

You sat up straight awaiting your students reply.

"Are you single"

The strength you have to stop the obvious eye roll from happening was impressive.

"What is your name sir?"

"Connor"

"Well Connor, I dont think that is an appropriate question to ask your professor"

After Connor had broken the ice a handful of other students asked questions which you ofcourse answered truthfully, I am a new teacher,I'm not sure what happened happened your professor, I am 26 years old, yes I will be carrying off from where your old professor left off.

"Now of there are no other questiones I would like to get on with the lesson"

Out of all of the eyes on you there was one different from the rest, a pair that were staring harder than everyone else, you could feel a sense of weariness creep up on you.

What was going on?

Why were you feeling like this?

You choked down the gulp that was caught in your throat and resulted back to the large books infront of you instructing your students to read the text and answer questiones.

As they done so, that feeling if nervousness itched it's way back back you, your eyes shot up from your notebooks to your class, everyone's eyes were drawn to their laps reading the books placed in their hands or infront of them.

Everyone but one.

Your eyes locked, you had never felt so startled by anything in your life other than the strong eyecontact one of your students gave you.

It was quick, you caught him staring and he jumped and buried his nose into the book, the contact mightve only lasted a secind but it felt longer, you felt asthough you were being put under a microscope being analysed.

The rest of the class somewhat flew by, by the end of the class you had instructed the class to prepare a sideshow presentation on a topic of their choice asking as it referred back to the main topic they were learning.

You also gave them the choice of either working alone or in pairs, most of your students instantly paired with one another, infant all of the students in your class were paired with someone.

All but one.

As everyone left you reminded the students to have the presentation done by next week or else it would result in an automatic fail.

One by one the class decreased in size and before you knew it the lecture room was empty, you had completely forgotten you now had free periods as you were only teaching a senior class. To relax you took out a book and a cereal bar from your coat pocket and lay back in your seat.

"Professor l/n"

You almost choked on your cereal bar, you instantly sat forward in your seat and flipped the magazine shut.

"H-How many I help you Mr...."

"My name is kai, kai anderson"

He loomed over your desk, his body awkwardly shifting his weight. Although his body language seemed rigid and tense his eyes bore into yours, He was younger than you yet you felt intimidated under his gaze.

"Nice to meet you Mr Anderson is there anything I can do for you"

You sat for a while waiting for kai to speak but all he done was stare at you and the floor.

"Well if there isn't anythi-"

"You shouldn't eat that" kai interrupted

"Excuse me Mr Anderson?"

"You never know what's been put in those bars, you could be eating something entirely different to what you think you are"

Your head was empty of responses.

"Here", kai dipped his hand into his backpack reaching out another cereal bar, this one youbhad never seen before, its packaging being completely unrecognisable,"this is safe"

He holds the cereal bar out to you wanting and waiting for you to take it with your own hand instead of placing it on the desk.

"My amderson I don't feel comfortable taking this from you it's yours" you hide the fact that you don't trust anything a stranger gives you with a simple excuse.

"Take it, I have more in my bag"

He holds the breakfast bar out closer to you after brushing your words from his head, you have no other choice than to take the bar unless you would rather sit and awkwardly refuse his gift for the rest of the day.

"What? Don't trust me?"

Kais eyes remained glued ti your face, his facial expression never changing from the blank look on his face.

"I didn't do anything to it"

You gulp and slowly your hand raises to meet kais taking ahold of the breakfast bar and attempting to pull it away from him. When the cereal bar refuses to move you let go of it but keep your hand close to it, kai smiles and holds the cereal bar with his whole hand before placing it in yours.

Your hands touched, his rough fingers brushing off of your palm as he finally let go of the cereal bar. You felt unsettled about how long he kept his hand on yours.

"Thankyou very much Mr Anderson you may leave now, I'm sure you need to get to your next class"

Kai stares at you for a few more minutes before smiling and breathing out a awkward laugh, he begins to walk away from your desk.

"You don't have to call me Mr Anderson, just kai"

You didn't bother give him another response and sat silently looking down at your lap where the new cereal bar was until you heard the sound of the doors to the lecture room open and close.

Not a second went by before you threw the breakfast bar into the small trash can beside the desk.

Two weeks had gone by and the rate if weird interaction with kai had increased. you would often catch him staring at you at times where he should have been occupied with something else like reading or researching.

You would leave the lecture room, locking the doors, and would catch a glimpse of kai darting around corners or walking away from you.

One thing that seemed to happen far too often than that should was that everyday after you taught kais class he would awkwardly walk to your desk and hold out another cereal bar, he would stand there until you took it and waited for you to thank him before her left the room, and everytime he left you would throw the cereal bar away not even bothering to give it a chance.

Yet you never seemed to catch him taking sneaking photos of you during and after class.

Two months had since then passed and kai had seemed to grow alot more attached to you than you jad hoped, he would spend as much time as he could with you, his lunch, his free periods and would often ask to walk you to your car.

He came physically closer to you, whenever he was sat down he would chose the seat closest to you when in class but if the two of you were alone he would drag a seat right next to yours and plonk himself Down by your side.

What worried you the most was he was becoming a lot more dominant.

Kai would try to touch you, rub your shoulders, pat your back, brush hair from your face, and when you denied him access he would throw a small fit and get mad at you, you would then remind him that he didn't have to stay with you at lunch and he could leave at any time.

It was lunch time now, and ofcourse kai was with you in your room, he always followed the same routine, he would sit infront of you, pull out a large textbook and read, well, pretend to. This day was no different, kai sat in his normal seat, the one right infront of the teachers desk, he pulled out a large book placed it on the small table infront of him and a bottle of water.

You had made a routine for yourself whenever kai was around you, even in class. You would simply ignore him, pick other students to answer questiones, look down at your phone or the books infront of you and eat when every he asked you a question

And that's exactly what you done as soon as he entered the lecture room.

Everything was going as usual until the constant sound of thumping reached your ears, you had hought at first it was one of kais futile attempts to gain your attention as it wasn't the first time he had plucked one or two of your feathers just to get you to look at him.

The noises didn't stop, what the hell was happening?

You brought your head up eyes connecting with kais and holding each other in locked eye contact.

You always felt intimidated by kai, even though he was younger than you and you were his professor he always made you feel naked.

You wanted nothing more than to break the eye contact between you and your questionable student , your eyes tracked down back to your book but stopped in horror.

Kai was touching himself as he watched you read, and he didn't stop now that you had caught him.

Infact at the sight of your horrified face kai let out a whine and continued to touch himself. You froze, what could you do, if he was bold enough to madterbate infront of you he wouldn't feel threatened by you telling the Dean.

When kai noticed you didn't move he spread his legs wider, his cock on full display as he pumped his fist up his length, your eyes were glued to his hand watching as he would slightly twist his hand as he got nearer to the head of his cock.

Kai threw his head back at the feeling of knowing you were staring at him, he relished in the feeling of your eyes never moving from his dick. He never knew you would react this way, he decided to do it on a whim to see what your initial reaction to him would be.

A guttural moan left his lips as his left hand shot up to grab onto the books on the table beside him, the pages crumpled underneath his grasp yet he spared them no mercy, oh how he wished it was you who he was touching.

He often would imagine you instead of his hand, a perverted smile plastering his face at night as he imagined fucking you against you desk infront of his class, infront of Connor.

He couldn't even imagine how tight and wet you'd be but he wanted to find out so badly, it was a need for him.

His eyes peeled open just to stare at you through foggy eyes, he wanted you to witness him cum to you, for you, and he knew you'd enjoy it that's why you hadn't looked away yet.

Your heart was thumping in your chest, your legs were useless as you sat nailed to the chair, your bottom half wriggled uncomfortable against the plush cushion under you as you watched kai.

The noises coming from his mouth were loud and lewd, you were sure if anyone was outside your room they would be able to hear kais outbursts of pleasure.

But did you care?

The sight of kais strained cock was engraved into your mind, his body was telling you in its own way it was ready to come undone, his pink tip glistened with the precum that oozed out of his cock with every pump of his fist.

"P-professor"

Your cheeks burned as your ears rung at the sound of kai almost whimpering out your name. You couldn't help but cross your leg over the other to settle the subtle thump between your legs.

What was wrong with you

This is disgusting why am I watching

Why won't I look away

When kai came his body froze for seconds before becoming extremely limp, only his eyes moved to stare back at yours not bothering about his now softening cock that was yet to be tucked back into his pants.

Your mind was short of anything to say

the only words coming to mind were

"What, the, fuck".

[p4nishers]

The idea of them possibly having to refilm a whole episode because of a cheek kiss is. I mean I get it's just rumors but. if they refilmed to erase a fully overt queer love story I'd feel like ranting and raging. Refilming to erase a cheek kiss is obviously worse in terms of showcasing an even greater paranoia, however. It has the advantage of being HILARIOUS. They put out That season of television. just a flat out romance. and Marvel just nods along going 'yep yup all very appropriate and heterosexual haha we love these good bro—nO nOt a CHEEK KISS THAT'S GAY!!!!" just wild levels of knee jerk homophbia and entirely myopic vision side by side.

right? i mean we dont know why they refilmed it but the way eric martin phrased it was very. like what do you MEAN it would have been "the strangest thing marvel has ever done" ??? what do u mean my dude? what the fuck is "it'd would've been a big conceptual shift" did u film a romcom or not answer the question eric. like genuinely WHAT was so dramatic and new and strange that everyone but marvel liked it if not lokius canon or at least canon adjacent im genuinely asking here