#issa wip for now

[chromastorms]

xuejun, colorized

[wasabijean]

‼️ART FOR DONATIONS TO PALESTINIAN FUNDRAISERS‼️

Hello! A few days ago I began kickstarting my own personal Art for Palestine Campaign on Twitter, and I’m bringing it over to Tumblr as well! By donating to the fundraisers linked below, I will draw you something!

Details on how to help are here!!⬇️⬇️

First, send proof of donation to this google form (I require a screenshot of receipt with name, amount donated and who you donated to.)

After receiving your form, I will then DM you on Tumblr, to let you know your place in queue on trello, and the Estimated time of completion for your art! I will send WIPs if asked.

Here is what to expect based on how much you donate, example drawings are in the google form, or search #my-art tag on my blog.

$1 - traditional full page notebook sketches

$5 - digital messy sketch 

$10 - digital clean sketch black & white/monocolor shading

$15 - digital clean sketch with color

$30 - (2 people) digital clean sketch and color

($40 - Three people)

($50 - Four people)

$60 - Clean Rendered Portrait (simple background, bust up)

$100 - Clean Rendered Full body, full background, full color

5. And here is the list of fundraisers participating, please donate to ALL of them, not just one!

Aya & Mohammed - Both torn by the occupation, them and their families are trying to evacuate Gaza. Mohammed is a survivor of IOF imprisonment for 20 days without outside contact.

Farah & her family - A 20-year-old english translator studying at Al Azhar University, Farah is young and has already gone through much. She and her family are trying to cross the border in Rafah.

Mahmoud Mush - A Palestinian graduate with dreams of establishing his Bakery, all his work undone by the bombings. He is determined to rebuild and pursue his dream no matter what.

Dounia Tanani & her family - A Palestinian mother who graduated as a translator and has been left homeless like many others. She and her family are trying to evacuate Gaza and begin a new life to raise her child.

Ahmed Almofty & his family - He is a recent graduate in Gaza with a promising future, and now he has no home or possessions. Ahmed's future relies on rebuilding his families lives.

Sondos Maher & her family - She is a 27 year old mother of three children who runs a family vlogging channel and now is trying to get them out of Gaza.

Nagham & her family - She is a third year medical student in Gaza who hopes to escape to Canada where her Gaza-born brother, Yasmeen, resides. To start her life anew for her and her family, they need to be evacuated!

Issa & family - They are apart of a family of 6, two of which are college students, while their youngest child is 12 years old. They are trying to evacuate and continue their children's education!

Hafez & his daughters - He is a father two young and bright girls, Malak, a 5-year-old with a love for school and his baby Habiba, born during the occupation. Please donate so they stay healthy!

Mostfa and his family – A young Palestinian body builder who has broke many records and set a precedent for his community, he and his family suffers from the occupation and sickness caused by it.

I will add more fundraisers for those who would like to participate, just tell me and I will add on to this via reblog. Palestine will be free, and it starts with helping the people who need freeing.

[t-lostinworlds]

A Strange(r’s) Comfort | Peter Parker

A/N: had this idea right after i saw nwh which was...years ago now lol. rewatched it again recently so here’s me dusting off a wip that’s been sitting in my drafts. basically, this is just me giving peter some comfort in a way, bc that boy really needs one :((

》 PAIRING: peter parker x female!reader 》 TROPE/GENRE: strangers to lovers (mostly implied); soft angst; hurt/comfort 》 SUMMARY: Peter found a strange comfort in the graveyard, no less. But hearing about your day-to-day had been the highlight of his. And when one night led to the both you showing vulnerability, suddenly, Peter didn't feel so alone anymore. Maybe a stranger's comfort wasn't so bad. 》 WARNINGS: Spoilers? (i mean it’s been a while); bad jokes/puns (one about chicken & one about sex lmao); peter eavesdropping (sorta...ya know, enhanced hearing); it’s mostly set in the graveyard so...; mentions of: death, car accident, drunk drivers, being in jail for a moment, petty theft, peer pressure; and overall just dealing with grief and peter & reader bonding over their experience with grief. 》 WORD COUNT: 5.2k+ (issa baby fic)

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ P. PARKER MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Some might consider it unhealthy, but was there really a 'right' way to deal with the loss of someone you hold near and dear to your heart? They might even say it was excessive, but who were they to police him? They didn't know what he was going through. They could never understand what he was going through.

A part of him had excused it with his wounds being fresh, that with time, he'd be able to learn not to dwell too long on the remnants of the people he loves. Maybe with time, he'd be able to move on, something that seemed so impossible at the moment. But he'll get there—well, he hoped so, at least.

Either way, there was no doubt that everyone handled grief differently.

For Peter Parker, that was visiting May's grave every day.

Once was enough.

That was what he limited himself to, at least.

But still, it was barely enough to settle the demons in his head. Barely enough to stop him from replaying the scene over and over.

Peter had been recalculating in utter desperation as to what else he could've done better, what else he could've done more to save her.

That was what it was like most nights.

Some nights, though, his mind would switch things up a bit, thinking that maybe he was going about it wrong. Maybe it was a case of what he shouldn't have done.

Those nights Peter sometimes found himself picking apart every choice he'd ever made before it led to that point.

Maybe if he hadn't chosen to go on that stupid school trip to Europe then this wouldn't have happened. Maybe his identity wouldn't have been revealed and it wouldn't have led for that first domino to tumble, knocking over the rest that made his life turn for the absolute worse.

Or maybe, he didn't need to go that far back in the past. Maybe he simply shouldn't have chosen to question Dr. Strange's decision to send those villains back to where they came from immediately.

But sadly, that was all there was to it.

Peter's thoughts were simply and only just a whole bunch of unanswerable maybes.

Maybe this, maybe that. Maybe he owed it to them to try his best and fix things, maybe he didn't owe them anything at all. Maybe it was the wrong choice to try and save everyone, maybe it was right.

Aunt May said he did the right thing.

But it didn't feel like it sometimes.

Hell, it didn't even feel like it was even worth it. And no matter how much he tried to tell himself that it was right, his thoughts still managed to convince him that every. single. choice he made was simply wrong.

It wasn't even difficult to come to that conclusion anymore. Because ever since he got bitten by that spider, his loss considerably outweighed all his wins. And from then onwards, it just felt like he kept losing, and losing, and losing, and losing.

Right now, the most mundane thing he'd been losing lately was sleep, at the very least.

He'd gotten a job as a delivery guy at this small chicken joint a couple of streets down his apartment. Some might call it cheating—in his opinion, it was simply taking a shortcut—but he'd leave the bicycle they'd lend him in an alleyway and just swing the chickens to their destination. Sure, changing in and out of his suit was a bit tiring but it was definitely far better than dealing with New York traffic.

Apart from that, he'd also begun with some freelance photography work, dusting off the old DSLR camera Ben and May got him. He got decent at it a while back. But it got long forgotten the minute they bought him his first video game console, two years later.

He was starting off small, from random birthday parties to taking photos of restaurants or any establishment that was looking to use the pictures for ads or whatever. He was up for anything, anyone who didn't mind getting an okay photo at best.

There wasn't much to it, though, since nobody was really keen on hiring someone who didn't have experience. As a matter of fact, he didn't even have a high school diploma. Which had now led to him sacrificing countless hours of studying for his GED tests.

So, it was safe to say that he was handling a lot, especially juggling it with his still ongoing nighttime patrols.

Yet all of that seemed so much easier compared to what he had to deal with once he was lying in bed, wide awake even if it was past midnight. What went on in his day-to-day was only a fraction of the reason why he was losing sleep because his damning thoughts just had a habit of being so loud once everything else had quieted down.

It was hard as it was dealing with grief, even though he for sure had dealt with it more times than needed in such a short amount of time.

But what was more difficult about it this time around, was dealing with alone.

And Peter Parker was truly and utterly, alone.

No fellow Avenger to advise on ways to deal with this. After all, they were the only people who could understand even the slightest bit of what he was going through.

Saving the rest only to fail at saving one, losing someone in the midst of fighting for the rest of the world.

No Happy to offer some guidance on dealing with the loss of someone near and dear to you. Or for him to just be there as someone Peter could relate to, just like when Tony had died.

No Ned and MJ to give him company, offer their different ways of comfort as best as they could. They weren't there to simply make him laugh, offer that tiniest moment of reprieve, distract him with their theories and arguments about anything and everything to help him escape from, well, everything.

Right now, Peter had no one.

Going from having the people he truly cared about be only one call away, to suddenly being someone labeled as 'unknown number' in their contact lists, it was difficult.

But maybe he would just learn to live with it.

And maybe the first step to being able to live with his grief was to visit May frequently.

It didn't matter what time of the day it was. Whether it was early morning or just a few minutes after lunch, or when the sky started tinting orange as the sun slowly set. Midday or midnight, dusk or dawn, it didn't matter as long as he could visit her just once.

Maybe a part of him was hoping that by some miracle he'd hear her voice again, telling him, even if it was the last time, that you're going to be okay.

Peter needed it, so badly. He needed to be told that things would turn out alright because him being fine? It seemed like a far-off dream at this point.

He'd been to space, been to the mirror dimension, fought villains from other universes, been the center of a spell that erased people's memories and made them forget who he was.

Surely hearing the voice of a loved one that had passed wasn't too much to ask?

Yet every day, every moment he ventured into the graveyard, he was met by silence.

Well, aside from the distant hum of New York as life moved on. There was also the deep howl of the wind at night, a few cracking branches accompanied by the soft coo of crows.

Some would probably find peace from all the white noise, but Peter couldn't say he found any comfort in it. He'd only grown accustomed to it, used to tuning out the rest of the world to avoid being reminded of a life he once had.

Still, quietness had always been typical during his visits.

That, until one Saturday afternoon.

•••

Peter sensed another person approaching before he could even see them.

The soft crunch of fallen leaves was what he heard first, followed by a soft humming of some holiday song.

He looked up from the book he was reading, curious eyes landing on someone carrying flowers, a slight pep in her step which was unusual given the location.

Still, there was something about you that Peter couldn't help but be drawn to.

"There we go, all nice and clean," he heard you say, rustling of dried leaves and the soft brushing of clothes following suit. "And flowers well hydrated with bottled spring water."

You were talking to yourself.

It was a habit, he assumed. You just seemed comfortable doing it, as if you were having a mundane conversation with someone else.

Peter found it oddly endearing.

"I brought your favorite this time Dad because I am sure you're complaining to Mom why I always bring her favorite flowers," you explained with a soft laugh. "I sometimes forget you're a flowers type of guy, too."

No—you weren't talking to yourself.

You were talking to the gravestone.

His curiosity piqued even more.

It wasn't that you were being loud, either. Not at all. You were speaking softly as you typically would if you were by yourself in a graveyard, no less.

But because of his enhanced hearing, he simply couldn't help but listen.

"Sorry I haven't been here for a little while, just been busy with you know, moving, college, finding a job with a minimum wage that will not cover rent alone so what even is the point? We look for a job to survive but when we do find a job it doesn't even pay you enough to get by? Some people don't even hire you because 'not enough experience' and I'm like, duh? I'm trying to gain experience hence why I'm applying? Who even invented this shithole?"

Peter found himself nodding along, unable to argue with your claims when they were filled with nothing but the truth.

"Sorry, sorry, it just doesn't make a damn sense," you sighed. He could almost hear you rolling your eyes. "Anyway, I then have other adult things I really don't want to deal with like learning how to deal with taxes and stuff which is so dumb given I'm close to broke and—where does my tax go, anyway? Some politician's tenth vacation to the Bahamas, probably."

For the first time in a long while, Peter cracked a smile.

"Ugh, I am sorry, I promise I don't come here only to complain to you guys," you said, "But I am doing okay…"

He couldn't really explain the 'why,' but the soft tug in his heartstrings was definitely real when he heard the melancholia in your voice.

"The holidays are coming up," you said softly, the slight shake in your tone unmistakable. Yet as it rushed to the surface, it was just as quickly replaced with a chipper one.

"They always tell me how you both are watching over me now. But I don't know if I really want that," you sighed exaggeratedly. "Not because I hate you guys. But imagine if I was having sex? I really don't want to think about you 'watching over me' because it's really uncomfortable."

Peter couldn't stop his snort, his eyes widening as he spared you a glance. He was as grateful that you didn't seem to hear him.

The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was eavesdropping—well, maliciously, at least.

"It's a joke, Mom. See, Dad gets it."

Silence hung in the air after that, a sudden gust of wind blowing away the leaves that littered the snow-covered grass.

But he had a feeling the shake in your voice wasn't because of the cold.

"I really miss you guys…"

Peter left at that.

He didn't see you again for the next few days, probably because he never did visit at the same hour of the day. He never actively tried to see what time you were there, either—if you went every day at all. He'd just become a stalker at that point.

So, every time you did cross paths, it was entirely by chance.

The next encounter was when he brought his lunch with him to the graveyard. He'd caught sight of you sitting on a pink blanket that was laid out on the grass, legs crossed with a box of pizza to your right.

Instinctively, you looked up and over your shoulder when you heard his footsteps.

Your eyes immediately locked with his.

Pretty was the first word that came to his mind.

Beautiful, when you offered him a sweet and warm smile.

"Hello," you greeted.

Peter couldn't help but smile in return.

"Hi."

Nothing else was said after that.

You both respectively ate your lunches in your little corners, your soft humming bringing a comforting peace, one he still couldn't quite explain.

And from there on out, Peter learned that you did go there every day, but it was only either at lunchtime or late in the afternoon.

Because whenever Peter went during those times, you were always there.

As he said, he never actively tried to be there whenever you were. He didn't change anything with his routine. He still went there at random times of the day.

You and him crossing paths simply happened.

And most of those moments, Peter couldn't help but listen in on your rambles.

It might have been wrong, otherwise, creepy, but it wasn't like you were unaware of his presence. You weren't being loud, but you weren't exactly whispering into nothing either. If it were an unenhanced being, they would still hear you, but maybe only slightly inaudible. Peter just had the ability to make out your words a little clearer than the average person.

Besides, all your stories had been mundane at most, quite adorable at best.

Like that one time you ran into a post because you saw a cat wearing some boots and a clear raincoat across the road. Or that time you missed your stop in the subway because you kept talking to a Corgi who was lounging comfortably in their owner's backpack.

"His little legs were so cute!"

Like he said, adorable.

But if it was something personal, though, he'd learned to tune it out. He made sure to keep those matters out of his ear, leaving your private conversations, well, private.

Yet your silly and terrible jokes, your gripes about society and the unfairness of the world, to your little story times and mundane gossip of what you'd heard on the street, Peter couldn't help but tune in as if he was listening to the morning radio.

It made Peter feel lighter somewhat, a feeling he never once associated when being in a graveyard.

He didn't know if it was your stories, or if it was simply hearing that soft tone of your voice. Either way, he found it comforting, which was so strange.

Never had he ever thought he would find comfort from a stranger, no less.

A strange comfort.

•••

"People always ask why did the chicken cross the road. They never ask why the chicken didn't cross the road."

Peter perked up in curiosity, ready to hear another of the many jokes you'd completely ruined.

He found it absolutely hilarious how you were churning typical and old punchlines into horrible ones.

The funniest part was, it seemed like you were doing it on purpose.

"Why, you ask? Because they physically can't anymore," you said, pausing for added effect. "People enjoy eating chicken legs way too much."

Peter's eyes grew wide, gaze landing on the chicken leg he just finished. He couldn't stop the sound that escaped his lips.

It was a mix between a wheeze, a laugh, and a cough.

Loud enough to get your attention.

"Hey," you called, voice sounding closer. "Are you okay?"

"Oh—uhm, hi," he stammered, caught off guard when you were now suddenly in front of him. Clearing his throat, he nodded. "And yeah, I'm good,"

"Do you need some water?" You offered him a bottle.

"No, no, I've got my own," he declined, lifting his bottle. "But thank you."

"Oh okay," you said, smiling sweetly. "It just sounded like you were choking or something so I wanted to make sure if you were alright."

Peter blushed.

"No, I was…uhm—" He scratched the back of his neck. "I was holding back my laugh."

You tilted your head, bottom lip jutted out and Peter found himself thinking of ways to smooth out the little crinkled on your forehead, maybe kiss—wait what?

"Why would you do that?" you asked.

Shit.

Did I say that out loud?

"Sorry?" He blinked at you.

"Why would you hold back your laugh?"

"Oh," he sighed, mostly in relief. "Just didn't want to seem creepy and I wasn't…eavesdropping or anything but I uhm—heard your joke." Chuckling shyly, he smiled. "It was pretty funny."

"Funny because it was bad?" You raised a knowing brow. "If you say it was good then I'm really going to question your sense of humor."

"It was really bad," he admitted, breathing out a laugh.

The way your smile brightened made Peter's heart do a funny thing.

"Thanks," you giggled. "I pride myself in my bad jokes."

"Yeah," he breathed out, willing his heart to stop being so goddamn weird, what is going on with you? "And sorry for not helping the chickens cross the road."

You stared at him confused.

That was until he pointed towards the bag on the ground that had the logo of a chicken on it.

Your hearty laugh rang in the air.

Peter found himself growing warmer at the sound, the burn starting right in his chest and spreading to the whole expanse of his body.

"I—whew, sorry, wow," you heaved after a moment. "Haven't laughed like that in a while."

Both of you fell silent after that—not an awkward one. If anything, it was pleasant, like there was an unspoken understanding being exchanged with a simple look.

"This may seem like weird advice but try and talk to them," you softly said.

Peter looked at you, confused.

You gestured toward the tombstone with a sympathetic smile.

"They might hear it, they might not, there's really no way of knowing," you explained. "But what more could you lose if you try? Plus, you'll get it off your chest and that's always progress."

"I—" Peter nodded, the corner of his lips curling up. "Thank you. I'll keep it in mind."

You smiled at that. "I'll see you around."

"See you around," he hummed, gaze never leaving your figure even as you left, his eyes steady on the path you walked on as he mulled over your words.

It was kind of weird advice, but at the same time, it made perfect sense.

Peter didn't question it nor did he judge—who was he to judge? After all, everyone handled grief differently.

But as he sat down on the ground, eyes steady on the lettering of May's name, he found the words flowing out so easily.

"Hi, May I—" Peter took a sharp breath, blinking away the sting that started to settle in his eyes. "Wow. It's been a while since I've talked to you, huh?"

It started out simple, filling her up with what was new with his life recently—the job, his education, all those mundane stuff.

But then as he shifted from one topic to another, he inevitably started talking about all the things that felt so wrong. And once that train left the station, it was so difficult to stop.

It wasn't a complaint. It was an unloading of the baggage he'd been carrying around alone for quite some time now.

All the loneliness and grief, the boiling anger and consuming regret, the love and the love lost, to the bleak look of what his future held.

Peter didn't realize he was crying until a soft gush of wind brushed his cheeks, the coldness making him catch his breath with a shiver.

And then, a small white butterfly flew right in front of him, stopping momentarily before disappearing into the now setting sky.

Peter let out a breath.

Lighter and relieved.

It could've been a coincidence, or maybe it wasn't at all.

But what more could he lose if he took that as a sign that she heard him?

So with a small, tearful smile, he sighed,

"Thanks for always hearing me out, May."

Since then, he'd grown to tell May about his day. Some were tougher than others, while some were snippets of his new life—mundane and simple but starting to become fulfilling the more he looked at it from different perspectives.

As the weeks passed by, Peter's everyday visits became every other day. At first, the guilt of missing a day was heavily consuming. But it didn't take long for it slowly turn into a soft lull—still there, but not as bad as it used to be.

There was one other thing he hoped for whenever he wandered into the graveyard, though.

To see you again.

If it was one last time just so he could say thank you, then he'd take it.

That didn't mean he wasn't wishing for it to be more.

•••

The hair on every inch of Peter's body stood up when he heard it.

It was definitely not his spider sense going awry. This was very much a human reaction.

Well, he could imagine that when the first thing a person would hear as they venture into a graveyard in the dead of the night was crying, even the toughest men would get spooked.

But as soon as Peter located the source of the sound, his heart broke.

He wasn't expecting to find you, sat on the cold ground alone, hugging your knees to your chest, body shaking with sobs.

His first instinct was to fight whoever it was that made you cry because how fucking dare they?

But with a controlled breath, Peter walked over to you, making sure to step on dried leaves so you'd be aware of his presence.

Your head snapped up at the sound, puffy red eyes landing on him.

His frown could only deepen as he slowly sat beside you, offering you a tender smile with his arms wide open.

You stared at him with furrowed brows, eyes switching between his face and his open arms, downright confused.

Peter couldn't blame you. After all, you didn't know him.

He was ready for you to yell at him for being a creep, to scream at him to get lost. He was prepared for you to push him away—hell, punch him in the face—and run as fast as you could.

But instead, your lips quivered, a broken sob following suit. With your head hung low, you fell into his embrace.

And Peter hugged you as tightly as he could.

He didn't say anything, didn't feel like it was needed. He simply held you close, rubbing circles over your back as he gently rocked you from side to side.

Crying it all out until you couldn't anymore was, most of the time, the best thing you could do at the moment.

So he let you.

Only when your sobs turned to sniffles to soft shaky breaths did you pull away. 

"Your shirt," you gasped shakily, bottom lip jutting out as your eyes began to water again. "Oh no, I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay," he reassured, squeezing your shoulders before reluctantly letting you go. "I wouldn't have offered you a hug if I minded."

"Thank you," you whispered. "I really needed that."

"No worries." He nodded with a small smile. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's just—" you sighed, wiping your face with the sleeves of your coat. "It's my first holiday alone so it's been kinda tough."

"Me too," he hummed, smiling sadly when you looked at him, a mixture of surprise and understanding crossing your face. "My parents have been gone since I was a kid, and I was left with my uncle and aunt. My uncle died a few years ago so all I had left was her but now she's…"

"I'm sorry," you softly said, your hand finding his.

You gave it a squeeze.

Peter squeezed back.

"I only had my parents growing up," you started, gesturing at the tombstone. "Didn't get to meet my grandparents, never really met many of my relatives because they're all halfway across the world, so now it's just me."

Peter didn't know what it was, exactly. Maybe it was the warmth of your hand still holding his and your kind eyes bearing no judgment or pity. Maybe it was the sheer comfort you provided, one that he still couldn't quite explain.

Either way, he found himself sharing what it had been like for him. Sure, he left out details to keep his deepest secret uncovered, and to come and think about it, it was mostly things connected to Aunt May. But Peter definitely spilled way too much to someone he barely even knew.

He did not regret it one bit.

"I promised to protect her and I—"

"I'm sure you gave it your all," you assured.

"Not enough to keep her alive," he scoffed, tone far more bitter than he intended to. He caught himself, shaking his head. "Sorry, sorry—"

"Never apologize for how you feel," you said firmly.

Peter nodded, his attention caught by your thumb that was absentmindedly running circles over the back of his hand. You'd been holding onto it as you listened to his story, and he found himself not minding it at all.

If anything, a part of him wanted you to never let go.

"But I get it," you breathed out. "The whole 'this is my fault' thing."

"Was it an accident?" he asked softly.

You nodded. "Car crash. Some drunk frat boys thought it was a good idea to test out how fast they could go in their new truck into an open road."

He frowned. "That's not your fault."

"It is," you insisted. "They wouldn't have been out on the road in the first place if they weren't coming to pick me up in the dead of the night." Shaking your head, you scoffed, "I wish I could say I was at a friend's house but they were coming to bail me out of jail."

Attempting to lighten up the mood, Peter softly bumped his shoulder with yours. "Am I in the midst of a troublemaker?"

That earned him a teary chuckle.

He took it as a win.

"Not quite," you sighed, your smile fading. "Got hung up with the wrong crowd. They kept teasing me that I was too much of a miss goody two shoes and that I should live a little."

"Peer pressure is one nasty thing."

"Yeah well, I still did it." You shrugged, anxiously gnawing on your bottom lip. "A group of us were walking home from a party and we passed by this random minimart on the way. My so-called friends thought it was a good idea to dare me to steal one thing from the store, to break my 'good girl' streak as they put it.

"They all gave me ultimatums, one of them was either I steal something or they'll tell the whole school that I was the real definition of 'The freaks in bed are always the quiet ones' so my loser reputation is no more. They said they can't hang around me anymore if I kept being the loser of the group. It was tough because they were all the friends I had."

Peter couldn't stop the surge of pure anger that ran through him. "They sound fucking horrible."

"Yeah, and I was stupid enough to go along with it." Shaking your head, you chuckled, tone void of humor. "It wasn't even the owner who saw me, it was some random white woman yelling bloody murder as if I was burning the goddamn place down. And the second my friends saw the security guards? Oh, they ran, left me there to fend for myself."

Peter unclenched his fist, settling to rub circles on your back instead.

"It was one candy," you choked back a sob, gesturing towards the tombstone. "But the punishment feels—"

Peter wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for a side hug when you started crying again.

"And you know what hurts most?" you whimpered, fisting his jacket as you laid your head on his shoulder. "Knowing that the last memory they had of me was just filled with disappointment."

"I'm sure that's not true," he said softly, squeezing you close. "They loved you."

"I know they did I just—"

"Wish you could go back and change every decision you made?"

You lifted your head off his shoulder and looked at him, eyes glossy yet he saw the flicker of gratefulness in them.

Peter felt it in himself too, an appreciation to finding someone who could understand even the littlest bit of what he was going through.

"Yeah," you shakily breathed out, letting out a soft laugh as you wiped your nose. "God, what a way to celebrate the holidays, huh?"

He chuckled at that, nodding.

It was definitely something, crying your heart out, spilling all your trauma to a stranger in the dead of night at a graveyard.

But there was only one thought that stayed at the forefront of his mind.

Peter didn't feel so alone anymore.

"Yeah," he hummed, a shy smile playing on his lips. "But I'm glad I'm not alone."

Your whole face brightened, your fingers interlacing with his.

"Me too," you said, smiling. "We're going to be okay."

Peter felt some weight lift off his entire back at those simple words of reassurance.

"We're going to be okay."

Teasingly bumping his shoulder with yours, you hummed, "I'm Y/N, by the way."

You both laughed at the absurdity of it, getting to know each other's pain, regret, hurt and grief before even getting the chance to know a name.

"Peter," he sighed, squeezing your hand. "Peter Parker."

Later that night, he somehow gathered up the courage to ask if you wanted to get some hot cocoa with him. And when you said yes with that smile he'd grown to adore so much, Peter had an inkling that you wouldn't stay a stranger to him in the long run.

But for now, as you laid your head on his shoulder, your soft breaths visible in the cold air, tiny snowflakes on your lashes, face glowing underneath the moonlight, warmth and contentment bloomed in his chest.

Peter was smiling.

Genuine and pure, and perhaps a sign of a new beginning.

A stranger's comfort wasn't so bad, after all.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading hun! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed, feedback is always appreciated <3

✉ NO TAGLIST: go follow @t-lostinlibrary​​​​​​​ and turn on notifications to get updated on my work!

© t-lostinworlds, 2023 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Find the word

Thanks @mjjune for the tag!

My words: destiny, dead, dry, door, dang

Your words: rib, write, expect, spin, person

Tagging @badluck990 @leahnardo-da-veggie @elsie-writes @mk-writes-stuff @drchenquill @rjcopeseethemald @sparrow-orion-writes @cat-esper @mysticstarlightduck @winterandwords @ashen-crest + anyone else

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites (remember y'all can hop on if you want!)

Keep reading for:

I didn't use the word destiny in any current WIPs, but I know I used it in my Warriors cats fanfic because of course I did.

Gwen runs from Jedi and Carmen

Rose reads about her powers

Greyson gives Lexi a candy cane

Woah do you think Noelle is tall?

Destiny - from Warriors: Night and Day: The New Clans

Even though the water was higher up, Sparrowpaw put his forepaws in the water. The silvery river sparkled in the starlight. As the starry water lapped over his paws, he felt himself get drowsy. That’s when he heard the familiar voice. Angrily, Sparrowpaw stood up and turned around to face Rosecloud. “What is it now? I haven’t fallen asleep by the river for ages!” The white StarClan warrior sighed. “You know how you smelled Daisypaw’s scent last Gathering and told Lemonfrost?” Slowly, Sparrowpaw nodded. Rosecloud narrowed her eyes. “Why?” Sparrowpaw shrugged. Rosecloud leaned forward. “Don’t bother with interfering! Daisypaw has her own destiny! At the next Gathering, she will sneak out! It’s your job to make sure she doesn’t get caught!” Sparrowpaw couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Doesn’t get caught? How is her destiny so important she can break the warrior code?” Rosecloud sighed. “I can’t tell you that.” Sparrowpaw unsheathed his claws. “Why not?”

Yes, Sparrowpaw. Fight a ghost. That makes sense.

Dead - from The Secret Portal Part One (Gwen POV)

I heard Dr. Asghar and Dr. Moon run after me, but I didn’t stop. I had a good head start and was faster. I reached the vase I’d seen and gave a mental apology for knocking it over. Dr. Asghar swore loudly as I skidded around the corner and ran down that hall until I realized I reached a dead end. I whipped around but saw Dr. Asghar and Dr. Moon at the start of the hallway. I froze. “Where’d she go?” Dr. Asghar asked, panting. “I don’t know,” Dr. Moon said. He looked around. “She had to have turned here. Her powers must have activated.” I stood there in confusion. Looked behind me, looked back at them. What powers? How could they not see me? I decided not to think too much about it and be thankful that they couldn’t while trying to make my heavy breathing quiet down. “Let’s go back to the lab,” said Dr. Moon after a moment, turning around. “She could be demonstrating several abilities. I can name four off the top of my head.” He smiled. “Actually, seven! I’m curious to see which one it is.” Dr. Asghar huffed, but followed her colleague back around the corner. “Sorry about the vase,” I heard Dr. Moon say. “Who cares? It was my uncle’s. Good riddance!” I heard a sound that implied Dr. Asghar kicked a shard of the vase that bounced off the wall. “Eight!” I heard Dr. Moon exclaim. I could almost hear Dr. Asghar roll her eyes.

Didn't used to have the character moments with Jedi and Carmen here, so I love this little exchange now.

Dry - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Rose POV)

“You’re getting Understanding Dimensiokinesis by Yousra El-Amin since she’s a dimensiokinetic, and you’d want a first-hand account.” “You know me so well,” Issa smiled as she opened up the book. “Which leads me with Inside Class Four Powers by Cormack Cuoco,” said CJ, grabbing the largest book. “Why’s that?” Alex asked. “I dunno, I liked his name,” said CJ, smirking. Alex laughed, then opened up her book. I took that as the cue to do the same. The art of the book was fantastic, but Damian Brown must have been really boring or something because his writing style was super dry and didn’t match the color of the book at all. However, the illustrator did help emphasize the points to make the text engaging, so I guess I couldn’t complain. Brown went into the science behind my power, but I skimmed past the section because I didn’t think that would be helpful. I flipped to the chapter on controlling the powers to navigate the multiverse. I jumped when a ringing timer went off. CJ turned off his phone’s alarm and said, “Alright, gang, what did we learn?”

You would not believe how boring the original draft of this scene was.

Door - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

“Lexi?” Mrs. Korrin asked. “Don’t you have a partner?” I looked around the room. “No, everyone else is taken.” “Hm, I know we have an even number of kids—” The door slammed open, and a kid with messy dark hair was panting in the doorway. “Greyson,” Mrs. Korrin sighed, “is it going to be like this every day?” “Sorry, Mrs. Korrin,” said Greyson, moving to his seat. “Not so fast, we’re partnering up, and Lexi doesn’t have a partner. Get your worksheet, and come sit next to her.” Greyson obeyed and sat in the empty seat beside me. He turned to me, smiling. I didn’t return it. Greyson’s smile faded and he awkwardly tapped his pencil on the desk. My hand moved up to my hair and took off the hairtie. “You okay?” Greyson finally asked. “Yeah, I’m fine, let’s do the worksheet,” I muttered quickly as I undid the braid by running my fingers through it. Greyson pursed his lips, then reached into his bag. “Candy cane?” I crinkled my nose. “It’s August. How old is that?” “Candy canes last, like, years.” “That’s years old?” “No, it’s fresh.” “It’s August.” Greyson still held out the peppermint stick to me. I sighed and accepted his gift, with full intent to throw it away later.

This is an inside joke. I don't care if it doesn't make sense.

Dang - from The Secret Portal Part One (Akash POV)

Jedi was not in the room despite Maddie and Gwen being back. Carmen, however, was muttering to herself as she tapped the screen, freaking out over the dimensiokinetic—Rosalinda, who I assumed was the girl sitting in a chair against the wall. Another girl sat against the wall across the room. Even from here, I could tell that she was extremely tall, especially when Maddie, though short, was standing next to her, and they were practically the same height that way. “She’s not an ultimate,” Robbie suddenly said. “What?” I looked down at him peeking out from behind the desk, looking a bit disappointed. “Look how she’s messing with that hair tie.” Looking back, the girl was waving her hand in front of her, intently watching a hair tie spin around her palm. “She’s telekinetic.” “Then… dang, she’s tall.” “Y’know non-ultimate Alii can get pretty tall, like Parker,” Robbie pointed out. “Yeah, but Parker’s sixteen.”

This was my only use of the word "dang" unless you could "dangit!"

It's getting to the point where I feel like I'm repeating excerpts, but I suppose it may be a good thing! I don't tag *all* the same people each time so maybe some folks haven't read them yet.

[euphorial-docx]

i have been telling my friend for so long that we need some really good hotd/got au’s of the black family and i need them now!! can i nominate you to write one :)? xx (joking obviously but genuinely there’s only so many times i can imagine sirius or regulus as daenerys being like the rebirther of dragons and being all powerful before i start writing one myself (i acc did start planning one but never finished it) )

i actually started on a hotd au but i kinda put it on the very end of my to-do list. i want to at least finish all my published wips and get my long fic posted before i seriously work on a new. (and somewhat long) fic.

i even downloaded duolingo and started learning high valyrian because it’s so hard to find proper translations lmao. i don’t know much but i do know at least: rytsas, nuha brozi mary issa :) geros ilas, edrus iksan.

[forabeatofadrum]

*looks to the left 👀* *looks to the right 👀*

Alright I guess I am kicking it off today. Happy WIP Wednesday/El WooWoo Wednesday/Wellness Wednesday/Wet Wooper Wednesday and all the other possible Wednesdays.

Sometimes, a WIP just catches up on you. I am still focusing more on Ljubim te and the now-sort-of-published SJAEU. But I have also been thinking about make a fire out of this flame, my CO Prompt Fest textfic. I know the deadline for that fest was October, but time is an illusion. I haven’t written for it in 2 months since I put it in the hospital in order to work on the seasonal events like COC and Klaine Advent, but I took a peek at my document yesterday because I remember it’s almost finished and not to toot my own horn, but it is good:

Aka I am back on my Snowbaz textfic bullshit. Might even pause Ljubim te for this one, since again, I am almost done with it (unlike Ljubim te). Although I have some Ljubim te under the cut:

Blaine’s eyes snap open and Kurt can see the realisation sink in.

“I…” Blaine trails off and he [REDACTED], “I… uhm…”

“Blaine-”

“I need to go.”

“Blaine!”

Blaine jumps from the bed and Kurt tries to go after him, but Blaine slams Kurt’s bedroom door shut in his face. Kurt’s left alone with his thoughts. What just happened?

Ohohohohohhh angst time babey!!!!

Tagging @quizasvivamos @blurglesmurfklaine @coffeegleek @esperantoauthor @otherworldsivelivedin @caramelcoffeeaddict @sillyunicorn @bazzybelle @dragoneggos @raenestee @tectonicduck @nightimedreamersworld @urban-sith @thnxforknowingme @captain-aralias @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @takitalks @justgleekout @cerriddwenluna @tea-brigade @ivelovedhimthroughworse @moodandmist @whogaveyoupermission @bookish-bogwitch @confused-bi-queer @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @ionlydrinkhotwater @1908jmd @special-bc-ur-part-of-it @larkral @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @cutestkilla @nausikaaa/@wellbelesbian @artsyunderstudy @martsonmars @facewithoutheart @boyinjeans​ (issa me justasmallbloginabigklainefandom!)

[arisukingdom]

this is discord's fault ok

The @feudalconnection server now has a prompt event! and I just had to write this little pice for my Inuparents thing (this wip will be published someday ok I promise).

In this Meiji era AU Touga is Izayoi chauffeur and they are still knowing each other..

ps: this needs editing hhahahhahhah

ps2: the prompt was dancing under the stars.

She left the car without waiting for her youkai driver, in trance with the way the moonlight illuminated the cherry blossoms, their sweet scent calling to her, she walked to it stopping only when she could touch the bark, rough, ancient, and so much alive, despite the harsh conditions it was submitted to.

“From time to time The clouds give rest To the moon beholders...” Touga’s voice was solemn, in contradiction with the poem.

Izayoi turned to him, startled to find him so close to her, almost at touch distance “Matsuo Bashō” She said simply.

“You know your poetry my lady.”

“Under the cherry blossoms strangers are not, really strangers” Izayoi murmured the poem, blushing furiously and turning away from him, hoping that the darkness would hide her features and the breeze would take her words away.

Touga hummed, blushing to the point of his ears but he couldn’t avoid noticing that she answered with another poet “Kobayashi Issa” he quietly replied.

They stayed there for some moments, an awkward silence in the air until they could hear music, it was coming from far away, but given their position they could hear clearly, the melody was ethereal at first, a pair of flutes playing lightly adding even more the the already otherworldly scenario they were contemplating.

The intertwining melodies of the two flutes dance gracefully in the air, beneath them a koto joins the party adding a rich and rhythmic foundation to the melody. The flutes' grow on a playful and agile melody, dancing across the rhythmic backdrop of the koto, the joyful rhythm is contagious, Izayoi’s body moving along without her consent, swaying along with the rhythm.

Touga was mesmerized by her, in the past weeks he’d been researching poetry, he never had much interest in it, but since the passionate defense of it by Izayoi he had procured a few books from his favorite bookstore, and in one of them, by Mary F Robinson he found a perfect poem for this moment:

“O beat and pause that count the life of man, 

Throb of the pulsing heart! 

Ripple of tides and stars beyond our scan! 

Rhythm o' the ray o' the sun and the red o' the rose! 

Thrill of the lightning's dart! All, all are one behind our world of shows.” He recited, his voice growing strong with each word.

By the end, Izayoi had paused her dance, she lifted an eyebrow in defiance and inquired “Western poetry?”

He grinned “not everything they do is wrong and immoral you know?” 

“Yes, you have a point” she acquiesced and, in a mocking of western etiquette she invited him to dace, as a men would do, offering her arm and politely bowing "May I have the pleasure of this dance?"

[silentstaresfanficandfanart]

WHOA COOL TAG thanks for tagging me!

Thank you for the tag, @sableglass!

Short stories, novels, or poems?

i write lots of things but i prefer writing novels above all else : ) though i really love haikus and limricks! mostly for fun, my faovorite haiku writer is koboyashi issa!

What genre do you prefer reading?

for me its almost anything in a fanatastical setting of some sort, i love anything similar to wuxia and stuff like that and victorian setting stuff, anything thats set away from the modern era though im getting a bit fonder of that, im not as fond of sci-fi but its still definitely got its winners out there! i love things that go beyond the mundane and explore things strange and new but are still relatable!

Are you a planner or a “write as I go” kind of person?

im a mix! but i incorperate a lot of planning, i often use a style i learned while researching iyasheki where i ask a question, answer it, and propose another to guide us into the next chapter. its not always quite that smooth, but that really helps me set up my chapters and it gives me a lot of room to work with and i usually make a mini version of my plans and then expand heavily on it. sometimes i also like to write down the entire plot again without referencing my old one to see what sticks and stays and try out different branching paths before i settle on what i want to write. and even then by the time i get to my actual writing, the final decisions are actually those of the characters. They decide more than I do how the story really goes, they kind of develop a life and personality of their own once they're fleshed out enough. I cant really push them in a direction they dont consent to, they just dont allow it. That's why Acianne made the decisions she made near the end. i had something way more tragic and awful planned...

but it seems even the omnipotent one whos hands shape their world, cant budge her. Who she was and who Ciero was, who they were to each other, those things were more important than my plans. I like it more that way though, they wrote a sweeter story than i Meant to. and yet also, a bit sadder.

Ciero decided to take his own memories, not me. That was never part of my plans. He changed *everything* in that moment and reshaped the entire story with that. Its kind of beautiful to me. I like my characters most when they develop independence, it keeps things interesting for me as a writer, since even I don't know what's going to happen until we reach 'the end'

What music do you listen to while writing?

i have a playlist with like 500 songs on it but i prefer to make a playlist with songs that really fit the vibe of what scene im writing or what book im writing.. my books have specific playlists usually and if i cant get in the mood to write ill walk around and listen to them and once i get into daydreaming about my characters mode, sure enough, i want to write again!

Favorite books/movies?

anything studio ghibli just about

loved howls moving castle the book

a series of unfortunate events

warrior cats was an old classic

i love a LOT of different anime but iyasheki is probably my favorite genre-

the chronicles of narnia (where do you think my love of isekai came from?) gaurdians of ga hoole

that sort of thing!

Any current WIPs?

Halcyon! which you can read for free right here right now!

i also have afew video games and other writing projects im editing/working on- but this is my main big thingy rn!

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you what would your standard outfit be?

probably a weird jacket, im almost always wearing a jacket and black leggings of some sort. Very likely weird silly kawaii cutsey details. im usually wearing my halloween sanrio jacket for reference- and i LOVE having cute acessories. i think i'd be the kind of cartoon character who's got a jacket that changes all the time-

Create a character description of yourself:  (well if i had to design myself and describe what i look like though i dont HAVE a jacket like this quite yet and i DO want it)

The odd woman approached the register, her hair a curly wreck from having the windows down in her car that has no ac. She wore a jacket emblazoned with cute pink and purple colors and rabbits in silly costumes across its design and a long pair of rabbit ears dangling from the hood, she cheerfully purchased a pumpkin spice latte before immediately spilling it all down her front. She doesnt even look surprised, she apologises profusely for the mess. instead of cleaning herself off she cleans off the floor. when asked, she says "its just going to get more coffee on it in a minute, theres no hope for it anymore. such is my life." Then she awkwardly tries to leave a tip in the tip jar and apologises because she doesnt know how tipping works, she goes to her table and thinks about the several hundred other times shes failed to tip people properly. She wishes she could remember what her mom told her about tipping more than she remembered how bad she was at tipping. She proceeds to spill coffee on her self again because her hands are weird and numb still because she stayed up till 5 am writing again, her friends are still yelling at her to go to bed. she has not yet, in fact, gone to bed.

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

oh dear, i try not to, though if a friend makes an oc for a world and they give me permission i might add them as a little easter egg! Theres definitely some aspects of people i know and real life experiences really influence how things turn out, but my characters tend to be people of their own and i would struggle to even write a self insert, every time ive tried they wind up being someone seperate from me. The idea of making a literal one to one of people i actuall yknow in my books makes me uncomfortable-

Are you kill happy with your characters?

not at all! i try to save killing for important scenes where its really the only way things are likely to go. if someone dies its usually my characters decision, not mine. (for example: halcyon was supposed to be almost entirely death free!)

im very CRUEL to my characters sometimes, but i dont like to kill them. I like to believe that the story isint done untill it's found a satisfying conclusion, unless the point of the story is for it to specifically dissatisfy the reader. I like the idae of happy endings, and that everything will be okay. I dont like for things to end on a bitter note, tragedies arent for me.

I've got enough hardship in my life, i want to believe that the good in this world is the important part i need to focus on, not the bad. Therefore, i write happy endings, no matter how sad the middle and beginning might be. Maybe its not going to be the perfect ending, or an ending that has no suffering or problems, but i want endings that feel like the start of something new and beautiful. I believe life comes in chapters, and that no bad thing is the true end, nor is any good thing, the nature of life is to contenue, thus my stories dont really end with a happily ever after, they end with "so what's next?"

Coffee or Tea while writing?

I chose coffee a lot because its the easier option and its readily available, tea is a more mindful drink i like to share with friends and id like to drink it more often, but i rarely have much energy, so it often results in cup after cup of coffee. My energy levels are getting a bit better though with time (though a week or two ago i had such a severe pain flare it put me in a bit of a slump) and i think, at least in theory, tea would be my bigger option really.

Tea is my theoretical ideal, but coffee is very nice too. Other than coffee and tea though i almost exclusively drink water (or occasionally other special drinks) and hot cocoa is another big favorite of mine!

Slow or fast writer?

f a s t f a st f ast i beat nanowrimo in six days and wrote another 50,000 word book in only 3. this however, has its ...consequences. so i cant really keep this going long term, im trying to write at a saner pace- so i can actually write MORE because im less injured. My first book took me like five or more years to write, but once you write the first one its not realyl scary anymore. the first mountain you climb is a mountain, the second is something you know what you're doing with, and the more mountains you climb, well, the more it just becomes a part of you. Eventually its not "i climbed a whole mountain" its "im a mountain climber" also youre all taking books way too seriously by the way, the sooner you let yourself let go of the belief books are this giant insurmountable thing, the easier writing is. books are actually just as much a hobby as any other creative skill can be. Theres a reason fanfiction writers casually crank out thousands of words. They're not as scared!

editing is slow- slow slow slow. but hopefully once ive done it once i wont be scared anymore and itll be easy too <3

Where/who/what do you draw inspiration from?

everything, absolutely everything, good and bad, life, experiences, other media, friends and loved ones, old ideas, random prompts, sometimes i even make up fun challenges. I consider finding a source of inspiration to be one of the most fun parts of creating actually! it helps you create a challenge. one of my favorite things to do is to take an ida (example using halcyon again: "what if a villain was trying to SAVE a hero and they were the protagonist of a book instead of the hero?" and they played a genuinely positive role in the narrative? what if the power of love was terrifying? what if the only thing that could save the day was refusing to fight someone or trusting someone dangerous???)

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

a dragon with a big hoard of books perhaps and tea... one that can turn into a human and sneak about as i please and writes books to share with people... but a cute dragon thats fluffy and feathery and warm for snuggling <3 that sounds fun to me!

Most fav book cliche:

Clown like or court jestery characters that know too much (or really just in general)

dad trauma = missing an eye for some reason

isekai protagonist amazed and confused in another world and or pretending they tottaly know whats goign on to try to fit in while secretly freaking out

found famliy-

wu m pl es

wacky professors and general chaotic beings-

glowing mushrooms

transformation as a means of self exploration and change and a chance for others to care for a character who normally wont let themselves be cared for

fighting as a form of connecting iwth others through battle especially a sword fight

*when someones injured on their back and someone else cleans and bandages the wounds*

Least favorite cliche:

anything that causes second hand emberassment sucks for me-

also this one here is probably kind of controversial and i think its based on something that really is well intentioned and is meant to be "this guy thinks its so rediculous to be sexist that hes offended when hes accused of being sexist" but...i find that it actually makes me dislike a male character and it also makes me dislike the female character, like, both instantly become less pleasant characters to me even if they were previously really cool. this trope is...

when a female character understandably expects a man to be sexist and then he dismisses it like actually no its because *insert legitimate reason here* it just kind of makes me feel more nervous about defending my right to be respected as a person and human being and set proper boundaries, because "well what if theyre not REALLY being sexist and im just being stupid and accusatory" its not nessiarily that its a bad trope or something, but it feels like its "makes the male character look better at the expense of a female characters likeability, making her concerns about being seen as an equal seem rediculous" i guess partially because it could also be done better. like it could be done so well? instead of validating her concerns by going "i dont know what kind of awful guys you've had to deal with , but im not going to treat you that way. Im doing this because *insert legitimate reason here* , i know how competent you are"

Plus its almost always done between romantic interests...

I think romantic interests should ...respect and care about each others feelings you know? If a guy really wants you to feel safe and protected, why is it that when she expresses she feels threatened in some way that his instinct is to make her feel stupid instead of making her feel like he recognises the actual threats she will experience in her life as a woman? Its also almost ALWAYS a manly man other men are expected to look up to. the hot man who women are supposed to desire...

...ill be honest if a man reacted like that to me when i expressed concerns he might be mistreating me due to my gender...i'd never date that guy, because he showed me he doesnt know how to show respect to my concerns.

also it makes me really sad when theres a cute animal character that gets killed : ( that makes me really really sad.

when optimistic characters are treated like they're idiots for being optimistic and the moral of the story is the world sucks and everything is awful. As a very optimistic and cheerful person let me tell you if you make it to adult hood and youre STILL OPTIMISTIC AND CHEERFULL you arent that way beacuse youre oblivious to the worlds problems and an idiot who can't think for themselves, you probably held onto that happiness as tightly as you could and fought hard to believe this world is still a place worthy of saving , loving, and caring about. To love others, to trust others, and to believe good things can happen and yet to survive and protect ones heart through the hardships in life is amazing

not to mention the idea that optimisim is stupid and reckless is frankly, dangerous in some ways. Being optimistic about outlooks in life can actively change your health and can increase the likelyhood of someone spontaniously even going into remission from cancer or surviving a surgery. even just having a negative expectation for a surgery or THINKING it might go poorly can make it go poorly because our bodies are REALLY freaking weirdly affected by our assumptions about things (hence why the placebo affect works!)

plus you dont reduce the amount of suffering when you dont let yourself get your hopes up about things! you dont actually protect yourself from any pain, yes this also is based on some studies ive read, so its actually tottaly fine to get your hopes up for things. Personally ive just learned to let myself be excited for things but also accept and be okay with when they dont go as planned.

oh i dont get to go to disney land? well it was nice to be excited for aw hlie about the concept, and we can reschedule or plan something else nice. I probably have some free time to do something nice now. Oh? i do get to go? YAY! how wonderful! either way im happy, at the very least, it feels nice to be excited about something right? which means you got something positive already.

accepting dissapointment doesnt mean suffering, thats wallowing, not accepting. but its okay to still be bothered. as long as you respect your own feelings and adress them in a healthy way itll be okay.

so like yeah i find it really upsetting when the moral of a story is "never feel hope, the world is an awful place, and being happy is stupid" especially because books are one of the most effective ways to change someones view of the world...

I dont like when a book tries to convince me im stupid for finding peace and happiness in this world. I still think these tropes should get to exist though, every trope has its purpose and just because i dont like them doesnt mean my opinion holds more value to anyone elses. So im fine with others disagreeing as long as they are respectful to me, i got kind of derailed though didint I? this is kind of a heavy topic hahah- sorry about that

Favorite scene to write?

when a character who has suffered deeply is loved and feels safe

when hope returns

when things finally calm down and your wounds can be cleaned and you feel safe and loved.

Scenes that show the trust and love and understanding between characters, little details that show how long two characters have known each other, or how their lives have effected them like Keito checking Eichi's pulse under casual circumstances or checking that he's still breathing.

Or Ciero being able to look over Aciannes room and perfectly picture how her morning was, and knowing what Carling wants even when he cant communicate verbally.

Reason for writing? It began when i was young, just a child on the playground, autistic and ostricised for being ..well kind of a little weird creature. I felt alone, and strange, and like i didnt belong in the world, and i wanted to have something safe and quiet to lose myself in where no one bullied me or bothered me.

Books were there for me, and back then i wanted to write books that were there for others like me, books that encouraged others to keep going, keep trying, to believe that happy endings exist.

it changed over the years

sometimes it was for the validation of others, wanting to be loved and so i wanted to be impressive, so i wanted to show "see i have value despite how weird i am, please accept me, please love me"

and sometimes it was "ive learned a lot over the course of my life, things i wish dearly someone had told me, i want to tell stories where the things i learn can find those who need them, i want to wipe tears and i want to create a safe place to grow and heal. I want to help my readers heal, the same way books have helped me heal, and to perhaps spare others some of the pain ive suffered in the process"

and other times it was "I want my characters worlds to play out, i want to see what will happen, i want to set the pieces in place and see what unfolds. i want to see my world come to life"

and sometimes it was just a challenge to prove to myself what i can do.

Now its taken on something a tad more selfish , but a lot more fun.

Now i write because its fun, it makes me happy, i love the craft itself, and learning why and how different things work. i love discussing writing, i love WRITING itself, and i love finding new ways to better embrace one of my most precious skills.

Writing has become my passion *something i love* and i seek to understand and grow in. Now i write for myself, sometimes to work through my own things, sometimes to bring life to something, but always at its core, i want to write for myself, and to be self indulgent and have fun.

I try to love writing the way I love art. I want to write for myself, and not a noble craft that changes lives and hearts. if it does that in the process then i couldnt be happier, but if not, then what matters is writing changes my life and helps me understand my own heart better.

for example lately, i can look back on all my writing...and i see the gentle foreshadowing of my love for my dear boyfriend in its earliest stages and how it blossomed for him, and even where i began to be more okay with the idea that perhaps, love was not so scary and awful a thing...and how many things mirrored my love for him in its earliest stages.

Theres no better tattle-tale than a book, let me tell you...but its very hard to read a book and catch the authors tail in the process unless you know them well.

their favorite and least favorite tropes for example...are the wakes made from an authors tail you know?

and if you dig under the surface enough youll sometimes find things even the author doesn't know about themselves

hence why the curtains being blue matters so much.

*i* sure didnt know why I liked jesters and clowns so much, but dear frick did i feel exposed when my friends told me why I do-

hoo boy, thats also probably the scariest thing about writing though..

Writeblr Interview Tag

Thank you for the tag, @sableglass!

Short stories, novels, or poems?

To read, all of the above. To write, I’m very good with journal articles and short stories but if left unchecked some of them might turn into giant novels.

What genre do you prefer reading?

Fantasy, romance, adventure, but really anything that brings me into a world different from ours. Also I have a weakness for dragons and animals in general, so anything that tangentially involves them is on my radar.

Are you a planner or a “write as I go” kind of person?

I am trying really hard to be a planner! My first big story project crashed because I tried to write as I go, resulting in a mess of scenes with the same ideas in five different pages at the same time (including the backside of hundreds of drawings) and too many re-starts to count. Lots of re-writing that didn’t fix the core issues, and ultimately more material added to the chaos. It did not work out.

My current WIP, Project TL, is going at a slower pace, but this time I made sure to organise everything from the start so it’s actually pretty neat and I have no trouble navigating my files or editing!

What music do you listen to while writing?

Sometimes it’s a song, sometimes just music, sometimes ambient sounds. Genre doesn’t matter either, as long as it is appropriate to the scene. In general terms, if the song/music reminds me of good memories, then it is on my list.

For a while I listened to BTS, then to a piano cover of Heaven Official’s Blessing, then to the  lo-fi hip-hop radio. It really, really varies.

Favorite books/movies?

I love all of Licia Troisi’s books, but especially the Chronicles of the Emerged World trilogy. I grew up with her books!

As for movies I think the LOTR movies could be my favourite.

Any current WIPs?

One! In short, Project TL is about dudes, drama and dinosaurs.

What happens if the mentor isn’t there to guide the young noble boy? Very avoidable teenage adventures of course! From getting his nose into the local drama to exploring dangerous forests, all while trying to find some great treasure to bring home. Also, a possible romance with his roommate (who can shapeshift into a dinosaur for reasons you’ll have to read later to know)...

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you what would your standard outfit be?

^ Something of the sort, I suppose. My wardrobe is very basic.

Create a character description of yourself: 

I'm shy! My drawings are all you'll get :P

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Not really. Some aspects of people yes, but the people themselves are a big no-no. I prefer detaching the real person from the behaviour of a fictional character. I don’t even like to use names of people I know in stories.

Are you kill happy with your characters?

Sometimes I put them in very dangerous situations, but I actually prefer when they get out of them. Killing my darlings feels very bad. I want them to live happily, or to at least get a happy ending. They do deserve it.

Coffee or Tea while writing?

In the winter, tea! This year I found a very nice tea shop and got many different flavours to try. Some were a hit and some less so, but I'm pretty excited to start drinking again hot stuff once summer is over!

In any season other that winter, water and fruit juice. This girl does not have what it takes to drink sparkly water.

Slow or fast writer?

Slooooooow! I like to edit a lot. Althought English is not my first language, I feel like I got the grasp on ho to make a sentence flow well.

Where/who/what do you draw inspiration from?

A lot comes from knowledge I acquired over the course of my life. Often I ask myself how a situation could go differently, or why things have to be a certain way. Then boom, a story is born. Most of them last a short few minutes while others make it to the end of the day. Only a handful stay with me for a lifetime, and those I hold very dearly.

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

Let me be a cat! They have the perfect life literally in any world. Eat fancy (or not), lounge in the sun for hours, strut around the town, climb high places and even get loved for just meowing. I wish my life was like that.

Most fav book cliche:

Saving the damsell in distress. Does not have to be literal, but I love it when someone in trouble gets a helping hand!

Least favorite cliche:

Miscommunication. Please just talk to each other!!!!

Favorite scene to write?

Quiet moments together. Comfortable in each other’s presence, maybe joking a little, maybe opening up about what they really think… So many possibilities in a simple stress-free interaction.

Also cuddles and physical closeness in general.

Reason for writing?

I must release my visions into this world.

Tag list (because I think you are all cool people):

@mr-orion @glitched-dawn @silentstaresfanficandfanart @theverumproject @uraniumwriting @princefluph @xenascribbles @wordsandwordsbyme @shenaniganssketched @creative-author @thedeerwight

[patrice-bergerons]

Oh man I've been working on this TMA fic since March and it has felt a little like Penelope with Odysseus' shroud, writing scenes, chapters, only to rewrite and restructure them again and again. Almost 2 months of work and it's barely at 6k of words.

Which is fine.

Some stories are like that--personal stories are almost always like that for me. These stories though usually entail me screaming constantly into the void as I write until the readership base is ready to toss me over a cliff for my moaning, but this one I had to write in silence for the most part, and that has been so weird.

[zaffrenotes]

WIP Wednesday 08.05.20

Thanks for the tags @loveellamae and @mrschoicesobsessed - there are entirely too many docs open on my computer, haha...

from the epilogue of elpída: 

Teddy makes her rounds, chatting amicably with her cousins and the next generation of nobles that will become members of her court. She finds it odd, how seamlessly she steps into her role as queen; she stands straighter, her movements are more refined, and she smiles a little softer. She’d love nothing more than to kick off her heels and run around the ballroom, skirts gathered up in her hands, the way her mother used to unwind after functions.

When all their guests had departed, and only the royal family and their close friends remained, Maxwell would put on a playlist of their favorite songs and everyone would run around in their bare feet while the palace staff cleared tables. It was her favorite part of the evening; her mother and father would check on her, Amynta, or Liam, and one of them would inevitably be awake. They’d gather everyone in their pajamas for an impromptu dance party, before one of them would take Teddy and her siblings back to their private residence to settle down with another story.

from 31 Days of Summer challenge (more Serendipity @the-soot-sprite !!):

She stands in line with Liam by her side, as they slowly make their way towards the entrance to the carnival. It’s been years since she remembers going to one – some time when she was a child, when a carnival set up for a week in the parking lot of a nearby shopping center. Since she had to look after her sister, they couldn’t go on all the rides she wanted to; Josie was too short for some of the more adventurous ones, so they spent most of their money on food and carnival games. Tonight she’s the short rider, but well over the height requirements to scream to her heart’s content.

from 31 Days of Summer challenge (RODAW preview for Colt):

The neighbor’s dog barking pulled Colt away from sleep, and he tried to muffle the sound by lifting a pillow over his head, only to roll over in frustration because it was too hot to breathe. “I hate that yappy little monster,” he sighed, rolling on his side to see if Jin was awake. He sighed again when he saw that her side of the bed was empty.

He rolled out of bed, picking up a day old t-shirt from a chair, and made his way out to the living room, where he found Jin curled up on the couch. The coffee table was littered with her textbooks, notes, and a vast array of highlighters and pens; she’d even fallen asleep clutching a notebook like a stuffed animal.

lol more 31 Days of Summer challenge (Modern!AU Blades):

Lost in thought, Mal jerked to attention at the sound of his name from a familiarly pleasant voice. “If it isn’t Mal the Magnificent.”

He could see the smirk on Rin’s taunting lips before opening his eyes, mentally cheering in victory when he looked up to see her smirking as she stood over him. Peering above the frames of his sunglasses, he admired the braid that Hello Kitty styled in Rin’s raven locks, and his heart beat a little faster when he saw the sparkle in her eyes, noticing that she wasn’t wearing a drop of makeup. She didn’t need it. “Welcome back, Rin,” he grinned up at her and pushed himself out of the chair to stand up.

---

aaaaand that’s it for now, until I can type up more. Whatcha workin on tonight @ao719 @burnsoslow @debramcg1106​ @thecordoniandiaries​ (pssst Lis are you gonna make that kdrama AU?! pretty pretty please??)

[hourly-dreaming]

we going✈️ boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom

[mezzogiorno]

boy :)

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Two gems for you!

Tiger's Eye (my fave gem rn): What are the tropes of your main cast? Amethyst: Who is the Comfort Character™ of your wip

Have a great day! <3

Hey, Buffy! Thanks for the ask! (From this gemstone ask game)

Tiger's Eye - what are the tropes of the main cast?

Hm I don't know some of these actual trope names but I'll try! Also may extend past just the main cast

Lexi is the "tries to care so much about others but ends up forgetting to care for herself" kind of character

Y'know that trope where a character's hair growth aligns with their arc? Uh that's Ash

"Super Logical And Grouchy But Actually Has A Lot Of Feelings" is Carmen

Hye-Jin is the more quiet and unassuming character whose strength is in her kindness but she has an added benefit of being confident in herself. Also "looks like a cinnamon roll and is actually a cinnamon roll"

Sam and Anathi are more supporting but are both the "looks like they could kill you is actually a cinnamon roll". Kelsey is also this only she could kill you too

Maddie is "looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill you"

"looks like they could kill you and could actually kill you" is probably Noelle or Ash

I wouldn't exactly call Issa and CJ the Main Cast™ even if they're important more in Parts Three and Four, but they're the sunshine X grumpy trope

Gwen is the "kind and sweet character who just becomes more badass with time"

Robbie is "so smart but such a dumbass"

Gabriel is supporting but he's "an asshole, but he's our asshole"

Hope this was a good enough answer lol

Amethyst - who is your comfort character in your WIP?

Robbie, Gwen, Lexi, and Akash are my comfort characters for sure.

Gwen was a surprise but in the last Draft she grew so much and I love writing for her. I relate to her compassion and understanding, wanting to do more. She has more initiative than me though.

Lexi feels like a default, probably because she used to be a blatant self-insert. While she is different from me more now, especially in base personality, her arc in Part Two hits super close to home--feeling obligated to make others happy, forgetting to care for herself. That's me....

Robbie and Akash I've posted a lot here because they're just so fun! They're so inseparable in my head. They're funny and they make me so happy when I write them together. They cause me the most emotional damage, though, so it's weird that they're comfort characters sometimes lol

Thanks for the ask!

[blackcatarts]

i call this one “i’m being overly ambitious again”

[issabees]

Aaaand I'm late 💀 I am so sorry for that gaaaah but I do not want the week to end without me joining @choicesfandomappreciation's Choices Spread Kindness Celebration, especially since the first day celebrated fandom love!

I want to thank the entire fandom for basically existing! I always thought playing/reading Choices is such a niche thing (I think it definitely was at first but ofc there are a lot of us now) that I couldn't find a place comfortable enough to talk about it or create stuff for it UNTIL I found y'all! I have met a lot of people along the way--and I still am meeting more and more of everyone here--which is amazing because it makes me feel less alone in the world. Thank you so much for the memes and the shitposts, all the fanfics and the edits, and everything else in between. You all are awesome 💙

Next, I want to mention the people I have met along the way as you have been the sweetest, kindest, most awesome human beings ever! @txemrn @peonierose @writing-not @socalwriterbee @ladylamrian @kingliamsbitch @lahelasaveiro @rice-wiife @gaydinosaurbananamilkcarton @jerzwriter @sincerelyscarring @alexabeta @peonyblossom @korgbelmont @littlee-sparkle @lahelasaveiro you are all amazing people! I'm super happy and grateful to have met you!

I also want to thank the following blogs for helping keep the fandom alive @itlivesproject @nightboundthesecond @thedistantshoresproject @immortaldesiresproject @choicesficwriterscreations @wip-wipeout-weekend @choicesmonthlychallenge @moodmusicmonday @openheartfanfics @thenannyaffair-fanfics @edgewaterbookclub @playchoicesconfessions @openheartconfessions @choicesflashfics and of course, @choicesfandomappreciation! (special shoutout to @lovealexhunt for this beautiful event 💗)

Thank you so much for the love. Y'all are awesome ✨

~ Issa 💖

[mintsuke]

Forelsket | 11 - Sir Asshole

Tsukishima Kei x f!Reader

Note: Although Tsukishima’s height made it easier to jump blocks, (Y/n) felt more at ease receiving, resulting in the growing shock (and suspicion) from her (his) teammates. On the other hand, the Nekoma boys were in delightful shock to have their temporary manager join in on practice, ignorant of the true reason being that Kuroo could spend time teaching Tsukishima more blocks - although with much difficulty given the height of his current body. (Which Kuroo has taken full advantage of in order to constantly tease the first year).

A/n: The dialogue might be slightly rushed and I apologize, I wanted to put something out as soon as I could because I know I posted about totally crushing the exam that had been stressing me out for months and yet still continued to be on hiatus. I kind of stopped writing mainly because I didn’t have inspiration and didn’t know what direction I wanted to take this or any of my wip’s. I also started school already, but it’s only filler since I’m applying for the nursing program soon for summer semester! 

Anyhoo~ I reached 400 followers <3 thank you so much for that, and also thank you for always supporting me and returning to Forelsket despite that long hiatus lmao. *sorry for the long a/n

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*Unable to tag in bold - if you change your handle pls lmk so I can update it <3

**ALSO @leivapats​ iDK WHY BUT IT ONLY JUST NOW SUDDENLY TAGGED YOU HOLY SHIT IM SO SORRY FOR THE LAST 10 PARTS IT COULDN’T TAG YOU OMG.