#nor do they want to help. they just act like and assume im the one not trying. im trying way harder than they ever will.

[autisticlee]

sometimes being autistic really separates me from other people. there's an invisible wall that separates me from people, society, the world. all those things can reach through the wall and slap me around, but it's one way. I can't reach them. and they never pat me on the head. nothing nice comes through. and I can't get out. I try to share good things. nothing gets through the wall. they see it as I purposely don't come out of the room i'm locked in. they think I act like i'm too good for them. they are offended and reach in to slap me. i'm desperately screaming and trying to reach out to them. trying to be part of things. but I can't. I can't connect with them. I can't be part of society. this wall isn't my doing, but they are making sure it stays up and making sure they only send negative signals through. know I can't stay behind this wall or I literally can't live. but also can't get out. i'm stuck and blamed for it. told i'm not trying and it's on purpose. i've been kicking and screaming at the wall my whole life and didn't make a dent. the lonliness and disconnection that can be felt when autistic is something nonautistic people will never feel or understand.

[diagonal-queen]

HELLO!! i keep requesting them sotty im obsessed but what about hunting dogs with a s/o who has a child😅😅i got silly again

Hunting Dogs with your child

♡ pairing: Fukuchi Ouchi, Jouno Saigiku, Tecchou Suehiro, Teruko Okura (platonic), Tachihara Michizou x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: How do these goofballs fare as stepdads? (or, in Teruko's case, fun auntie?)

♡ cw: Swearing, unofficial stepfathering, unrealistically good stepfathering, reader's ex situation is not established but it's assumed that their baby momma/daddy is not in the picture (Tachihara), mentions of violence

note: I just haven't written anything in ages, and for that I apologise. Wow, being in university is time consuming! I've had block for months and it's been an absolute pain in the arse but I'm back babey! Keep your requests coming anon- I am the Hunting Dogs whisperer and I will write them till I die. Apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

Fukuchi:

My dude is so so so enthusiastic. You mean to tell him that he gets a beautiful loving partner AND a new little guy to hang out with?? Sign him tf up

This man buys your kid so many presents it's genuinely concerning. Your child is spoilt to hell and back by Fukuchi. You need to discourage him from this behaviour STAT

He constantly uses dad words like 'buddy' and 'pal' and 'kiddo' to refer to your kid and they eventually start responding to these nicknames lol

He would totally also do dad stances and just embrace the fatherly aura that is slowly overtaking him day by day (bro starts falling asleep on the couch while the game's on at 9pm)

He's actually surprisingly gentle with your child. If they cry he'll pick them up and comfort them very well. He's like a whole different person when your kid is scared or sad- it's the cutest thing ever

If your child ever gets him a Fathers' Day present he'll probably cry like old man tears of joy. In fact if your child ever does anything nice for him he'll be incredibly touched. Kinda reminds him what he's doing his job for :')

Tells your child great exaggerated (CHILD FRIENDLY) stories about his heroic achievements as a soldier before bed. It's genuinely super cute you guys

If the kid ever runs up to him in excitement when he arrives home in the evening he returns the energy and is like 'omg there they are! that's my kiddo! how have you been??' and picks them up and AUGH they're so cute

Just....🥺🥺

Jouno:

Your child is probably scared of him at first. Within their first meeting he probably makes them cry.

Sorry y'all 😭 but he doesn't exactly come off as much of a teddy bear...and nor does he really act like one with anyone else other than you in private

Jouno just isn't good with kids. Not in the sense that he's scared of them but that he doesn't really know how to interact with them without being intimidating or otherwise just detached

But he really loves you, and he wants to be a good parental figure to your kid, so he tries to warm them up to him by getting them a gift. That probably helps- he might not know much about kids but he's right to assume that they fucking love receiving gifts

Whatever your child's hobbies/interests are, Jouno genuinely does try to connect with them over it, and after a while it does work.

Soon enough your child and Jouno are inseparable and your child is spewing sadistic military rhetoric and oh dear god you've made a terrible mistake introducing the two of them

Yeah, Jouno probably teaches your kid all KINDS of horrible things. He will tell your child stories about times he's tortured suspects, or slaughtered gangs, and just stuff that is not family friendly. You have to nip that behaviour in the bud or else...

He's generally pretty good at taking care of your child, but like, if your kid cried because they were scared there was a monster under the bed, Jouno would probably be like "Yeah. There is. Good luck." and then turn off the lights and leave 💀

Just give him time. He'll learn how to be an emotionally available parent at SOME point

Tecchou:

He's not the step dad. He's the dad that stepped up

Tecchou is definitely very aloof and awkward around your child- like, he knows how to interact with you, but children are different. Children are frightening. And they are his biggest fear maybe

In spite of this, he is fiercely protective of your kid. He will make sure that child is as safe and calm as possible at all times, and he certainly prefers to show that he cares through actions rather than words.

He usually wouldn't initiate physical contact with your child but if they hugged him he would hug back, if they gave him a hi-five he would do it back, etc etc. he will never let your kid down

If your child likes make belief, you can bet you'd walk into a room and find your kid all dressed up, off their rocker in full theatre mode, while Tecchou is sitting on the floor, also dressed up, but looking more depressed than ever before

Save him from your baby. They are taking YEARS off his life

He probably accidentally sends your kid to hospital at some point because he cooked for them. Damnit Tecchou, how don't you realise that a child's stomach wouldn't be able to handle a combination of chocolate and beef

It's okay though, he does learn from this. Plus, he takes care of your child and buys them presents and hangs out with them until they're better <3

He might not join your child in the ball pit, but he would watch them swim around in there with the softest, faintest, most affectionate smile on his face. And that is all that matters folks

Teruko (platonic):

The funnest, meanest, coolest auntie ever

Teruko will lead your child down a dreadful path. Limit their visits to holidays and birthdays for your own sake and the sake of your young one

She's really more than happy to negatively influence look after your child if you need her to though, and they love her because she's super chill and lets them get away with all kinds of things (that aren't violent crimes against humanity)

Your parent says one cookie after dinner? Screw it, have six. I won't tell if you won't. - Teruko, probably

She uses her ability to entertain your kid sometimes- usually she'll decrease her age so she can join them in things like building pillow forts and playing on jungle gyms

I'm just picturing them playing at the park and some concerned parent coming up to them asking where their guardian is and Teruko just fucking transforms into a grown woman on the spot and goes 'WHO'S ASKING' 😭

Teruko is a super cool fun aunt. But she is very wise, and she really will give your kid good life advice on occasion.

She'll also cheer them up when they're feeling down, and if they're feeling scared she helps them step out of their comfort zones and confront their fears (in a safe way!!)

If your kid is like, getting picked on at school or something, Teruko will nag you to phone their school about it. If you don't, she does. If they don't do anything about it, she does. Bottom line is NOBODY fucks with your kid when Teruko is around

I guess technically she really is scary dog privilege lmao

Tachihara:

Help he's so nervous at first? Tachihara this is a child, not a wise sage- you can be normal around them

He just wants to make a good impression on the child okay he's doing his best

But (obviously) your kid immediately loves him, and thinks he's the coolest guy ever, and wants to hang out with him all the time

Tachihara has a bit of a concern that the kid will think that he's trying to replace their other parent, which is fair, but it's unfounded because your child absolutely adores him and does not care about that at all

If your child ever calls him 'Dad' watch his soul fucking transcend to a new plane, he's so surprised and honoured that this beautiful person's child would consider him their parent

Your kid has Tachihara wrapped around their tiny finger. He will oblige them with anything- if you've got a toddler who likes uppies and piggybacks, say your prayers for Tachihara's upper arm and back muscles because he will carry them for hours

You really need him to stop leaving weaponry around the house, though- the absolute HEART ATTACK you had when you saw your precious baby carrying around an unloaded pistol

Also, Tachihara, babe, STOP SWEARING SO MUCH AROUND THE BABY. I CAN'T HAVE MY KID SAYING 'FUCK' TO STRANGERS - you, probably

Doesn't really ever talk about his job(s) with your kid, all they know is that he 'kills bad guys', and they think that's cool as fuck

He's not perfect, sure. But he is trying so hard to be The Perfect Parent™ and, more importantly, he loves your child to bits

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco, @pinkiipeachiikeen

of course, thank you to anon for this req!

[mrslankyman]

Oh Darling

Alastor x (fem) Reader

word count: 2K

Fluff / more of a friendship

based on pilot alastor / slightly out of character

Working on part 2

✩⋆｡‧��˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

Wasn’t everyday just so grand in Hell?

No.

It wasn’t.

Working at the Hazbin Hotel sure wasn’t making your days any grander. Being a room attendant and a good friend to Charlie was starting to get to you.

At least Nifty was there to help. Even though she mainly tried to kill the bugs she at least helped clean the place up. You had become accustomed to her weird and somewhat insane antics. It was Hell after all. You couldn’t really judge.

Husk was as fun as ever. Giving snarky comments but he at least listened when the night wound down and you needed a drink.

Angel Dust would joke around and tell you how awful you looked after scrubbing one of the rooms.

Vaggie didn’t say much since she knew you were friends with Charlie. She rather enjoyed your company stating you were one of the most sane sinners in the hotel.

Alastor on the other hand. Didn’t say much about you nor did he really say much about anyone. He would greet you just as anyone else. Something about him felt weirdly off.

You didn’t question it too much and just went on with your work.

“Hello Darling pleasure to be seeing you this morning!” That radio like voice echoed into the hotels kitchen. You were busy making breakfast.

Someone had to do it and it sure wasn’t gonna be Nifty. No one wants roaches in their pancakes.

“Good morning Alastor.” You answered not looking at him as you flipped the pancake. “Making up a lovely breakfast I do suppose? My mother used to make the most splendid ones in her time.” He remarked as his shadow loomed over you from behind.

“I’m sure she did. I’m not so positive mine will beat your mothers but it will beat your hunger.” Your joke was met with that signature smile as you turned around.

“Ahaha Im sure it will.” He laughed as he stepped aside to give you room. “I came to see if you were able to dust my radio tower? It has accumulated quite a bit of dust.” His question wasn’t really a question. You’d have to do it. It was your job. Though it was nice that he wasn’t demanding.

“Yes I can. I’ll just have to finish up breakfast.” You stated as you went back to cooking.

“Lovely. Oh and {Y/N}.” He cooed making you turn to look at him. His eyes turned dark and black, red static glitched around him. The room turned dark. “Don’t mess with my things.” He warned his clock eyes appearing and his smile widening.

You nodded quickly and looked around. You had seen him do this before but never to you directly. “Yes sir. I won’t.” You answered quickly and sighed with relief as he went back to normal.

“Good.” He clapped his hands together and turned away. “I’ll be back once breakfast is done.” He waved and hummed as he walked out of the kitchen.

You went back to cooking. Just forgetting about what just happened. It was best to just act like it was normal.

——

With breakfast done. You headed off to do your job. Or well request in better words. You grabbed your dusting supplied and went up to Alastors radio tower.

Doing as asked you just dusted. Not moving much of his stuff just the things that needed to be moved to dust. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too mad about that.

Surely he understood if you had to move stuff to be able an do your job. If not I guess you would have to run to Charlie and hide.

While dusting two figures on his desk caught your attention.

A small deer next to a bigger one. Which resembled a doe. Apart if you just assumed he kept up with the deer aesthetic he had going.

Shrugging you dusted them and headed out of the room. Closing the door and headed down stairs to put your supplies up.

——

Nifty was off cleaning somewhere. Husk and Angel Dust were chatting at the bar. Charlie had gone off with Vaggie for the night and who knows where Alastor was.

Deciding that cooking dinner sounded like a good idea you found your self in the kitchen again. Perhaps Charlie should’ve made you the chef instead. Though you just picked up both the jobs. Cleaning was easy and cooking was fun.

Humming you skimmed through a cook book. Unsure of what to cook for the night. That was until a shadow appeared behind you and Alastor appeared.

“Hello Dear!” His enthusiastic voice echoed through the kitchen causing you to turn around and look at him. “I saw you finished dusting. Thank you.” He leaned again the counter. Checking out his claws with a smile. “Need help cooking?” He questioned before looking over at you.

“Just having trouble picking what to cook for tonight.” You answered with a shrug. Making him stand up straight and clap his hands together.

“Why I know just the thing!” He snatched the cook book from you and threw it behind him. A loud thud echoed as it hit the ground.

“Hey-“ he put a finger over your mouth and laughed.

“My mother once showed me a lovely recipe for jambalaya! Who needs a flimsy old cook book when you have memory darling.” He chuckled and nudged you aside as he grabbed all the things he needed.

“I can show you it. If you wish.” He titled his head. Offering to let you in on one of his favorite things.

Something you didn’t suspect but found it rather kind of him.

“Sure. I’d love to learn it.” You agreed and stood beside him as he instructed you on things and gave insight on how to make the ‘best jambalaya you’ll ever eat.’

As he stated.

—

“My mother loved cooking this. Said it was her favorite dish, yes it was.” He smiled wide. A rather genuine smile. Not like the one he always wore. He looked down at the finished dish. A sigh of content escaping his lips.

“I’m sure she was a lovely woman.” You commented grabbing a plate from the cabinet.

He didn’t answer, just hummed. The silence was rather loud. He just stood there for a moment. Lost in memory.

“She was..she really was.” Though his voice sounded rather sad he still held the smile. The never erasing smile.

His reply was late but you put some of the finished jambalaya on a plate. His tone shifting to one of excitement.

“I’m sure you’ll find it splendid.” He turned to you and titled his head. Waiting for you to take a bite.

You moved the spoon up to your mouth and took a bite. Your eyes widened and a smile spread across your face.

It tasted lovely, better than you expected.

His smile stretched further as he watched your reaction.

“Oh I knew you’d love it! It’s very splendid don’t you think? Yes yes, a rather grand recipe the best recipe!” He wrapped his arms around your shoulder. Stretching his arm out in-front of you both and curling his fingers into the palm of his hand.

“I’m sure you agree this is better than some flimsy thing from that old cook book. I can show you many other recipes my mother showed me.” He leaned into your face a smile stuck on his face.

He had never been this touchy so he must be excited.

You nodded in agreement. The idea of having someone to cook with wasn’t a bad one.

“I’d like that.” You laughed and he joined in. Laughing with you for once not feeling like he had to be towering over someone to be seen.

——

So cooking together became a daily occurrence. Wether it be breakfast lunch or dinner. It didn’t matter.

He found cooking with you pleasing. You were one of the only demons he could stand in the hotels.

He slowly began to tell you more about his life. How he and his mother were close. Though it seemed he dodged the questions of his father. Never wanting to talk of him.

Which was understandable from what you could possibly piece together it seemed his dad wasn’t the best.

You decided not to push its.

“So my dear, have you considered being redeemed?” His question made you think. You were both outside looking up at the sky. Dinner was done. And everyone had went to their rooms. You on the other hand weren’t tired and Alastor didn’t have any plans for tomorrow so staying up with you didn’t bother him.

“I suppose it would be nice. Though I’m not sure I would fit in up there.” You shrugged leaning against the railing of his balcony.

He hummed and looked down. “You’re a rather charming demon belle. I don’t see why you wouldn’t fit in.” He chuckled to himself. He didn’t believe in that wacky nonsense of being redeemed.

How could a sinner go to heaven? They had chosen their path in their life time.

He learned that you had killed your husband at the time. Caught him cheating and decided to take his life as well as the other woman. You made your choice in that moment.

Dooming yourself to a life of sin. Just as he had when he committed all his murders.

Though a part of him feared the idea of redemption now. He knew he sure as hell wouldn’t be redeemed. He didn’t feel bad for his crimes. Nor did he care.

But apart of him knew you regretted your actions. You were a soul who would deserve to be redeemed if there was a way.

That scared him.

Knowing he wasn’t in control. Knowing that you could slip out of his hands.

He wasn’t being selfish with his want of keeping you. He just liked having someone around who enjoyed his company. Someone who wasn’t scared of him or only chatted with him cause they didn’t wanna be killed.

Though that is rather selfish isn’t it? Not wanting someone to succeed and be a better version of themself because you want them to stay as they are.

“I’m sure you’d fit in just swell so don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” He flashed a smile your way. Teeth not showing this time. It seemed almost fake. You shrugged.

“I guess. I would miss everyone here though.. mainly you.” Your words hit him like a brick. He hasn’t suspected you to really truly care about him. Sure you said you two were friends but.. this meant a lot.

“Oh come now. You wouldn’t miss me once you see all the.. heavenly things up there.” He chucked. His voice sounded off and his radio effect faltered.

“Are you okay Alastor? It’s not like I’m gonna be redeemed and even if I was I would miss you. So don’t say I wouldn’t.” You were slightly annoyed at him now. Of course you’d miss him. No amount of heavenly items or ideals would ever top him and his terrible old timey jokes.

“Don’t lie. We’re in Hell why lie? You’re already here! It’s not like it’s gonna send you further down!” He seethed his claws digging into the railing.

“Alastor calm down. Why are you so upset?” You stepped closer to the demon. His ears bent back and his pupils went small. His smile crinkled and his teeth bared.

“You! You have me so confused!” He ran his hand through his hair. Closing his eyes.

“I’ve never felt like this before.. it’s all so frustrating. I’m supposed to make you scared! Don’t you fear me?” He dropped his hand and laughed. A hysteric laugh.

“Alastor..I don’t fear you.. I see you for you.. you’re an amazing friend.” You laid your hand on his shoulder. Calming him down slightly.

“I’m just here to watch these souls suffer and try to climb up only to fall into the fiery pits of failure.. but the pleasure in watching others fail isn’t fun when it comes to you.” He turned his head to look at you.

Your eyes met and for once the smile that was on his face didn’t match what was showing in his eyes.

“A part of me just wants to be with you forever. Just blissfully cooking or chatting like we are now. I’ve never had that.. I have friends but not like this.” He sighed and leaned back against the wall letting himself slide down.

You sat down beside him. Looking at the sky.

“Are those deer figures on your desk you and your mother?” You asked softly.

“Yeah..” he answered.

“They’re lovely.” You held his hand. Smiling as he squeezed yours.

“I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. You can relax. I’m gonna be here with you. So stop being all sad. It doesn’t suite you.” You leaned against his shoulder. Receiving a sigh from him.

“Did I ever tell you about my first radio show appearance?” He asked after a few moments of silence.

“No I don’t believe you did.” You smiled and listened as he began the story.

[mithliya]

Hi! Do you think you could explain how gender critical people can support body autonomy in cases like abortion but not transition? I know you believe that medical transition doesn't change someone's gender. But under the ideals of body autonomy, would you support a woman taking T if she still called herself a woman instead of a calling herself a trans man?

And in general, I know radfems are anti-plastic surgery, but wouldn't that too fall under one's body autonomy?

I'm just trying to figure out radfem and gc ideas but I'm running into some inconsistencies.

honestly i was a bit baffled by this ask and couldn't help but feel like its bait bc ... how is cosmetic surgery that is harming your body, incredibly expensive, and done as a result of self-hatred the same as not wanting to carry a baby & go thru the risks of pregnancy for 9 months? to me these are such blatantly, fundamentally different things. but let me assume this isn't bait and you're asking in good faith and address your points.

I know you believe that medical transition doesn't change someone's gender.

this shows a complete lack of understanding on what beliefs i even hold. i don't think medical transition "doesn't change someone's gender" i know it doesn't change a person's *SEX*. this difference is very crucial. gender = gender roles, gendered expectations, etc. it is a social construct. it has nothing to do with anything medical nor biological, its a social contruct that varies across time and cultures.

But under the ideals of body autonomy, would you support a woman taking T if she still called herself a woman instead of a calling herself a trans man?

why would i support the act of taking synthetic hormones which are actively harming your health just as long as you Identify a certain way? it doesn't matter to me what you call yourself. i'm critical of medical transition because it is costly, harmful, and rooted in questionable beliefs. i'm critical of how readily it is promoted. i am critical of how profitable it is to pharmaceutical and medical industries. i am critical of how little research is being put into ensuring the safety of it as well as research into other methods of dealing with sex dysphoria. whether you call yourself a man or a woman is the least of my concerns.

you use the term bodily autonomy, but you seem to be under the belief that bodily autonomy = a person gets to do whatever they want with their body and their choices are always above any criticism or analysis and it does not matter how much their choices are harming them or others. by that logic, if you don't support an anorexic woman starving herself or getting a liposuction, you are against her bodily autonomy because you are not allowing her full agency over her body. by that logic, if a woman tells you she wants to get a BBL or have implants put in, you need to validate and encourage that choice because to question harming your body is to oppose bodily autonomy. but that is not what bodily autonomy is. here is a definition:

Body autonomy is defined as the ability of one person to demonstrate power and agency over choices concerning their own bodies. These choices must be made without fear, threat, violence or coercion from others.

Body autonomy allows individuals the freedom to make their own choices about their bodies. This is significant to a person’s health and wellbeing.

now, if there is a group of people being told that they need to transition ASAP and being told constantly that without transition they will kill themselves, is that or is that not going to instill fear? because if i was told that i need to take an action as early as possible, lest my life be miserable and doomed, then im going to want to urgently take such an action out of fear. if parents are being told "do you prefer to have a dead daughter or a living son?" or w/e, is that not coercion and threats?

moreover, we know taking synthetic hormones for cosmetic purposes can be extremely harmful for one's health. women with high levels of testosterone naturally suffer from a lot of health consequences as a result, nevermind people who alter their body's hormones. this is fundamentally different from a woman choosing to get an abortion because a pregnancy is costly, risky, has health consequences, and will impact her entire life for at least the next 18 years of her life.

that said, i'm not blaming people who do pursue cosmetic procedures or artificial hormones and i'm not against them. i am against the industries promoting this and making it difficult to even have a conversation on this, even pushing against research that does not benefit their financial interests. i am against the promotion of cosmetic surgery as necessary, healthy, and somehow healthcare. i think that there NEEDS to be more research into medical transition, the impacts it has on health, its usefulness and helpfulness, and alternative treatments. the lack of such research and the lack of constructive conversation on this topic is where my concerns lie. not with identity politics like what someone calls themselves while harming their bodies.

so ultimately, i'm not understanding what you think is an inconsistency here. questioning profitable industries and cosmetic surgery which are modern inventions rooted in amplifying people's, namely women's, insecurities for the sake of profit is not at all the same as an abortion and it's worrying to me that you don't see the difference. providing blind affirmation to every choice an individual makes is not bodily autonomy, its individualism and liberalism to another degree. bodily autonomy is allowing individuals the right to make informed, healthy, decisions for themselves. a woman deciding she does not want to go through 9 months of pregnancy and 18 years of child-rearing is not the same as a woman deciding she hates her body and thus MUST get a boob job (which ultimately harms this person's health rather than helping), or someone deciding they hate their sex and thus MUST get surgeries to pass for a different sex (which also ultimately negatively impacts the person's health, even if it provides some psychological relief which potentially could've been gained via a different approach like therapy).

[everythingwasnormalhere]

could you give me blind Craig headcannons for my story? Thanks ^_^

all these are assuming he loses his sight later on, aka hes not blind since birth, so tell me if im wrong lol (also partial blindness hcs bc its very underrepresented though a lot more common smh,, but like, can make him totally blind if you want lol you do you)

mandatory disclaimer im not blind nor i know that many blind people so this might be Very wrong lmao (feel free to correct me yall 😭) (also if u arent blind either i recommend u to ask blind ppl and/or blogs like @/cripplecharacters for advice with this)

big on the ignore it till you make it<3

nooo hes not going blind wdym his vision is awesomeee (this guy cant see shit)

probably hid it for as long as he could bc internalized ableism + pettiness = bad decisions

also this overwhelmed the shit out of him, meltdowns often bc autism aint good yall

didn't get the diagnosis till he was almost not leaving home bc he could barely manage there without seeing, outside was a big fat nope

when he did get it, he already could assume what was happening, but the diagnosis made it real- cue the panic attacks<3

he clyde and tweek decorated his white cane with space stickers to make it fun :) (will always be a sucker for characters decorating their mobility aids im not sorry)

spends his nights looking at the stars, trying to memorize them before he cannot see them at all. the thought of losing them forever terrifies him

insecurity oh my god. his friends have to reassure him they won't leave him after he can't see every other day. little guy acts all confident and craps but oh boy he's actually Not 😭

jimmy teaching him cpunk he's just that awesome<3

"how does he deal with ableism?" well he curls up and sobs actually :) /hj

ppl grabbing his cane would send him in a panic at the beginning

THEY'RE NOT HELPING FFS

went from frozen and almost in tears to cursing them out though; he's vocal about his feelings like that<3

when he's with friends they're typically the ones who proceed to curse them out first btw lmao (possibly trip them too. oopsie 🥰)

holding hands with tweek. yes using the cane is easy but tweek is easier. craig would genuinely trust him with his life yall

he's very used to holding tweek's hand since before too, so not much of a change really :)

learnt how ppl's walking sounds very early on

cartman cannot be normal abt disabilities ever so he probably "pranked" craig a lot early on

he got so much shit from everyone for that though so not anymore

craig and butters bond over it :3 with butters' eye injury and all

(their experiences are not the same but taking into account butters is who has most experience with vision problems in all south park, its the best craig can get atp)

got pissed at like 20 screenreaders until he found one that worked for him

will listen to space documentaries, close his eyes, and imagine everything they say. makes him very happy :)

gets a guide dog later on im not sorry service puppies are the best ever

not gonna learn braille his ass is too lazy lmfao

...these arent a shitton of hcs wdymmmmmmm (sorry for text wall it will happen again)

[the-monkey-ruler]

Going back to that anon that ask about the pain swk went through bc of the fillet

—yea theres r no time ever that this fainting ever happened in the novel nor do the bleeding. Yes it does happen in various other adaptations when the fillet does that but not in the novel.(not in the Anthony c yu verse at least. Idk about the tge other but im less likely to recommend them bc they either miss a fuck ton of jttw thing OR Very icky authors who is sinophobic af)

I think ppl who already tends to have a more negative idea of tang sanzang(bc of OSP iteration n more)tends to make his character far worse than it actually is.

Like w the fillet.(no hate to various adaptations who do the usage of the fillet that make swk faints. Love me that honestly but my gripes is w those who make it that it applies to alll swks and even in the og novel.) even going so far as to make tang sanzang as the abuser to swk. <that could not be more farther than the truth. It is in fact a very skewed power dynamics that make both characters be in the same but different positions of powers depending on the situations>

Im pretty sure he ended up doing it less as much as ppl assume he did pre-LEMH ARC. (Bro did not use the spell day to day basis pls ppl stop using it in argument bc its not even supported in the og txt itself. He called his disciple as good guys yet are ugly af—hes a asshole but not that much of a asshole. Hes so so naive but he trying his best even if he get swung w traumatizing shit every arc back to back. He like a perfect example of how imperfect traumatized person would act.

My gods these pilgrims need sm therapy

He didn't use it for years before the Six Ears Arc and didn't use it years after either.

It always surprises me when people say he used it too much considering that he only used it in frequency in a single day and then did not touch it for literally YEARS cause he really doesn't use it that often in the book.

The only real times he does overdue it is in the White Bone Demon Arc where he uses it multiple times and in the Six Ears Arc as well. Otherwise, there was that one-off with like Sanzang being misplaced with a fake Sanzang and they had to find out who was the real one, I think with the Black Wind Demon on their first adventure solo, and maybe the Lion-Lynx Arc with the dead king. Otherwise, that's about... 30 other arcs. (that is about 5 arcs out of 30~ other demon arcs)

So over the course of 14 years, I really don't think that should be considered 'every day whenever he could' ....cause he really doesn't. Wukong pulls a lot of tricks and schemes that do give him a mischievous air but the point is that the pilgrims had distrust for one another at the start that is question and put them to the test. And it's only when they face that collective battle and do they come out with a deeper understanding, not only of each other but themselves that they gain their merit.

Sanzang says they are ugly yeah (rude) but he always defends that they are good people to humans that are terrified of their looks, always trying to help even if he can't offer much but a helping word and an ear to listen. He always trusts they will save him and even not he has prayed over them because he thought they died and wanted blessings in their next life for being such good people in this one. This is his journey too and I think it's unfair for people to ignore how his character also comes to get closer to the gang. Especially after he found his long-lost family only to imminently lose them again. I mean even at the start he was made fun of for being an orphan and found his parents, but one commits suicide just weeks after meeting him and the other is the same age as him since he came back from the dead unchanged and he can't even rely on as a parent.

He was kinda put through it with that family drama.

It was just one thing after another at the start for him and I think he never had a chance to have a close group of friends to rely on.

And I hate when this idea that Sanzang is a bad person or that is an abuser when there are so many ways that they are similar and both trying to overcome their challenges on this journey while learning how to rely on other people. They mean too much to each other and while it is hard for them to see eye to eye they have that bond of loyalty that was hard won and grew with time. Sanzang is just a mortal man that can be killed with a single blow in charge of three demons and a dragon on their parol. While each one of his disciple (one that more likely than not ate his past lives) have unthinkable magic and power that no mortal can dream of fighting against.

And he is supposed to lead them to enlightenment?

It is so funny it could be sad.

And they still did it.

It was literally them against the world.

And I hate how people are comparing the fillet to a shock collar as well considering its lore with Buddhism. Like it has so much more meaning both culturally and literally but people always want to overlook its real meaning as 'it's a torture device' like... no... it's really not.

No, I agree that pain is not a good answer nor that I condone that behavior but people got to remember that this was written 500~ years ago when training the body was having a similar mindset to training the mind. That doesn't make it right but it was also to show that Sanzang was never meant to be an abusive teacher and that yes while he is wrong on multiple accounts that weren't meant for him to be seen as a bad person, jut a misguided one.

The fillet does have more history to it as well even seen in other Buddhas as a symbol of self-discipline. It was to be a sign of restraint when it comes to bettering oneself and Wukong need to accept that the world doesn't and shouldn't revolve around him. I understand it’s not as common to see in America and but it's far more than just a symbol of pain, it holds a lot more meaning when it comes to personal growth and being able to recognize flaws within yourself to better them.

That's why in the end only Wukong can be the one to take off the fillet. There is no Fillet-Loosening Spell. There never was one. The Fillet is a part of Wukong and only when he has that full control over himself, that he masted his impulsiveness and attained true enlightenment and immorality did the fillet disappear because it wasn't needed anymore. Wukong at first has to overcome his own ego and arrogance to accept that he has a problem in order to overcome that.

I thank that’s why GuanYin also gave Wukong a fillet because she knew Wukong could overcome his anger and take it off she believed in him that much.

It reminds me of that Wizard of Oz with the red shoes scene where the good witch was like "You could have gone home the entire time" and the same way Wukong could have taken the band off at any time if he learned to control himself and his impulsive. The band wasn't there to teach him to learn through pain, but rather that he can go on the journey and go through that personal growth of facing his inner demons and being able to mature as a person.

At least that's how I always saw it.

[prettyboykatsuki]

I love love love yandere tropes I will restrain myself to just one I prommy. Im feeling geto today. Geto & wisteria 💜

a /n ; hello miss aleks... thank u for requesting getou bc im insane abt him. a lot of requests for wisteria!! v interesting

cw ; yandere, captivitity, implied violence, reader talks about being hungry but it's largely metaphorical, gn!reader

W - Wisteria (long life, immortality): “Tell me I’m your god/goddess and I’ll grant you a slice of heaven.”

You're of the belief that your anger will someday mean something.

You hold onto this belief. You nurse it like a child that cries so loud it could shatter glass windows. More than anything, you want this anger festering inside of you to mean something. To be visible or potent. You hope with utmost sincerity that someday you will reveal it to someone and they will be the one to shrink back.

Getou is not above being cruel. He doesn't prefer it. The cruelty is not sadistic in nature - it's not something he draws pleasure from. Not usually. Not often enough for you to notice, though some times there's a gleam to him. A sharpness at the corners of his mouth when he twists your wrist just a little too hard that makes you wonder if you're missing something.

In all the ways Getou is cruel, it's not the violence nor hunger that makes you feel the most vulnerable. It's the indifference to your own humanity that you regard as most inhumane. It is the almost pitiful glare as you push towards him defiantly, unwilling to stand down.

Getou is authoritarian, but not pragmatic. This means, if you bare your teeth at him he will only go so far as muzzling you. Even if it's more practical to shave your fangs down to nubs - the practically of a tamed animal is not enough for Getou Suguru. He would rather you keep them sharp, keep them bared - and to teach you the same lesson until your exhausted. To beat it into you until your howl is faint in the wind.

Getou shows preference for taming. He does not punish your hostility with violence. It's never an eye for an eye. That would assume that you and him are equals and that could never be. There's no such reality where a human being could be equal to him. You can't see curses. You bruise easily. You shout and light your temper rise even easier.

The days pass by. Slowly like time is hesitant to widen the gaps of your sanity, though you know that is unavoidable. You hold on still. Your hands are holding on so tight to the thing within yourself that feels you're sure your knuckles are white.

And Getou remains. Still. Steady. Not omnipotent. Because even a foolish human like you can recognize that only old times Gods are capable of acting selfish.

The chain around your neck feels heavy when Getou enters your quarters. A place with no sunlight and no wind. Getou approaches you like always, a softened smile. Long hair that flows down his back, tied half-up.

He always walks towards you, but never crouches to your height. As if he's waiting for the day you come to him obediently. Crawl towards him on your hands and knees with nothing but desperation. It hasn't come yet.

But he feels merciful. So he bends down and comes towards you, reaching his hand onto to touch you. Your limbs are heavy from exhaustion. Nothing much of a fight today, as he reaches his hand to pet your cheek.

"Tired today, hm?" He asks. He's not smug about it. You almost wish he was.

"Fuck off."

"So cold to me. Such a shame. I really cherish you, you know? I don't do this for just anyone." He says, nauseatingly sincere.

"Is this your idea of being cherished? You're sick."

"Don't be silly. Of course it isn't. I'm disciplining you. Trying to help you understand."

Anger bubbles up within you again. If your throat wasn't so hoarse you would scream.

"Understand what exactly?"

"That you're doomed to this, but you don't have to be." He strokes your thumb with your cheek, growing close. His eyes are so dark you can see yourself in them. You don't recognize your reflection anymore "Tell me I'm your God. Mean it. And I'll grant you a slice of heaven. You'd be happy if you could listen."

"I'll never give in to you. Never." You say, all too bitterly. He gives you a fond laugh.

"I like that part of you too. It reminds me of someone."

[ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is]

Hey , I hope you are doing ok. I assume asking to type isn't inconvenient.

I'm confused for my type as my mom and sister have a completely different view of my personality than my friends. What the outside world thinks of me is a bit different than what my family thinks of me.

I do love spending time with my friends and colleagues. I'd love to meet them on the weekends. However, I feel sometimes I need to prepare for social interactions.

I do love sports a lot. I love playing and following them. At the same time, I'm quite heads deep into sci fi and interesting concepts.

I know I'm a thinker and not really a feeler

Im not good at planning nor good at following a particular plan. I just do what feels fun at the moment. I hate sticking to one thing for a long time.

I'm not particularly detail orientated. I ignore/neglect details of my work and my personal life. I have a good memory nonetheless.

At work , I'm very task oriented and a bit short term in my thinking. I'm more result oriented than process oriented.

Can you help type me. I'm 25M , working as a game developer

Hi,

So this is somewhat difficult in that I've turned off the inbox for a bit since I really do not have the time nor do I care to do more than one or two typings a month, if that, at this point, and I got four or five in the past few days but: this is extremely vague and so it's difficult to type. If you have not read the FAQ, please do so, and if you have, please review it. I will open up the inbox again in a few weeks if you want to do a follow-up.

To talk through this in the hopes of guidance:

Pretty much everyone is different around different groups of people, and different groups of people will have different views of you both because your behavior depends on the context (how you act at work is not how you act with friends which is not how you act with family) and because they are themselves different groups of people with their own opinions and preferences.

Hobbies can be helpful to an extent if they are highly specific or unique or if there is a pattern (eg, all very outdoorsy hands-on, though even then hobbies can reflect lower functions that people want to explore in a low-stakes environment) but something as broad as sports and science fiction is not helpful since again, many, many people like these.

It is good to let me know what you think of your type; but ultimately that's only a small piece of what I use, since people can be wrong, and I need examples. What led you to believe you were a thinker?

The part about planning and not being detail-oriented is useful; you are more likely a perceiver (high Ne or Se) based on this. Task and results oriented is also somewhat useful, though examples as always help.

In general a very important part of typing, and indeed the premise of typology, is seeing what traits you have that are not very common. The foundational text was named "Gifts Differing". What makes you different? Focusing on that helps eliminate things like very common hobbies, or nigh-universal behaviors.

[navree]

Hello, how are you!?

Im curious, how do you think Viserys would have reacted after seeing Aemond crash into things post-eye incident? I'm still not over that scene😭

Hey ho hello! I'm doing good, it's snowing where I live which I'm in love with because I adore wintery weather and was cursed to spend my formative years in Los Angeles, and as such deprived of a lot of snow.

Assuming Viserys isn't a complete monster (and despite my hatred of him, I don't think he is, just a deeply flawed man compounded by being a product of his environment), I would assume he felt sad whenever he saw Aemond struggle. Viserys would become increasingly infirm in the time jump between episode 7 and episode 8, but that didn't happen instantaneously, so he likely was still up and about and fairly lucid during the more intensive periods of Aemond's recovery. That period of recovery would have included not just Aemond running into things he can't see, but also relearning basic skills that he'd already known, now that he had an impairment. Not only that, but everyone he knows would have had to relearn how to interact with him, to be cautious of his "blind side", and Viserys was likely one of those people.

I can't imagine that Viserys wouldn't feel a stab of pain in his gut at seeing this kid have to relearn how to walk, run into things he couldn't see, have to be constantly monitored to make sure he healed without complications, and potentially flinch when Viserys talked to him due to Viserys approaching him from the wrong side. Unfortunately, I don't think Viserys would have taken the opportunity to try and bond with Aemond, which is a shame because there's a lot they could have bonded over (having ridden one of the Conquerors' dragons, the challenges of physical disability in Westeros, hell Viserys could have offered a lot of advice on that front), but Viserys likely did see some of the most intense periods of Aemond's struggles and it likely did make him feel Some Kind Of Way.

I would imagine he'd react in the moment by doing some kind of "buck up kiddo" kind of thing, and that Aemond likely would have rejected any attempt from him to do more, out of shame and embarrassment and also just knowing that he and Viserys don't have that kind of relationship, and therefore he's not expecting or looking for that kind of reaction from his father. At this point, after ten years of neglect, compounded by how Viserys acted at Driftmark (give the lil Aemond actor a fucking Emmy for the way he looked at Viserys in that scene), if Viserys had tried to reach out, in his tentative and not very solid way (like we see him do with Rhaenyra in earlier episodes, but this time with a kid he has no connection to due to his own actions), Aemond would have rejected him, likely angrily.

And Viserys wouldn't have tried again. I think he saw Aemond struggle, felt bad about it (but did no introspection to see if maybe he also felt guilty about how he treated him immediately post maiming), but didn't really offer much help or assistance, nor did Aemond ask for or want any. And then Aemond got healthier, Viserys got sicker, and that nonexistent relationship basically permanently died.

[pineappleciders]

hii could I request a omori matchup? I'm pan so any gender is fine

personality - intp, I'm very introverted in public, i don't like starting conversations (unless i really have to) and i struggle with anxiety so often i overthink my interactions. Get to know me and I'm extroverted, airheaded and clumsy, eccentric, and pretty corny. I enjoy making jokes (dad jokes r my fav) or oddly sexual ones bc i can be a big flirt. I'm a therapist friend, always listening and giving advice. I'm a very blunt person, like if you need the truth, it's coming to you. I'm childish- but also a motherlike/responsible person when I need to be! i'm forgetful though, so don't ever ask me to remember something for ya. I'm not organized nor do I ever do my work on time, I wait until the last minute to do anything! I have moodswings and some unhealthy mental thoughts, so sometimes i can't control my emotions and isolate myself from others. I just need alone time for awhile and then I'm okay, but I try not to completely let it bother me (ah yes, I'm the type to bottle up emotions.).

physical des - I'm around 5'3, I have black/brownish hair? it's a mix shoulder length hair(Reaches alittle past my shoulder) it's always straightened even though it's naturally curly! I have a mole under my left eye, if you look hard enough lol and I have a septum piercing! I'm kind of curvy too so theres that :P

fun facts!

ironic but my nickname is mari ( my friends call me that) and I actually play the piano , i'm able to play final duet <3

I love dressing in alternative/gothic fashion. I love any emo/goth style such as scene emo or mall goth the most

I love kel and aubrey- out of the group. Spaceboyfriend or Pluto were my favorites from the game

I have a low social battery, specially when I'm in school or public places ( I love talking so much I rant for hours on end about anime) so it's weird to others how quick my talktiveness changes

tysm take ur time and make sure to take care!!

A/N: THIS FONT IS VERY SMALL AND I AM BLIND SO IM SORRY IF I MISREAD ANYTHING!!

I MATCH YOU WITH...

SUNNY!!!!

first few meetings, it's kind of difficult for you two to talk to each other

neither of you like starting a conversation or speaking much, so when you talk it's really only in response to someone or one of you blurts something out and it starts convo

SUNNY has an attraction to you. i mean like he just feels drawn to you, and feels safe like he can kind of be himself around you

as you open up to each other, he acts unimpressed sometimes but he really enjoys your silly personality

SUNNY doesn't emote much but he has a great sense of humor. honestly he laughs at your dad jokes (not because they're funny but because they suck)

if you pull any flirty stuff on him, he'd be really lost. he's still kind of stuck in the OMORI mindset, so in his head he thinks he's completely unaffected and deadpanning.

but irl he's sweating and red, and gets super shy

SUNNY is someone who likes to live outside of reality. he doesn't want to face truth, but as he recovers from his past post-good ending, your bluntness could actually help him come back to reality instead of hiding in his mind

you remind him of KEL, to an extent. kinda goofy, clumsy, sometimes air-headed. but he likes that about you. your personalities clash in some way, but they also are very similar.

SUNNY relates to isolation and bottling up emotions until they pop. i think you two would do therapeutic things together, as you both have some things that you want to work out, so why not together? :)

if you do want to be alone though, he understands. he does the same thing too, and you guys respect each others boundaries while still helping the other take a step outside their comfort zone

years into the future, i think it would help SUNNY if you two were to play the final duet together

after all, he does see some of MARI in you, and (assuming you met after the incident) he knows that she would've loved you dearly. it would probably take a lot of healing, but you'll get there together

SUNNY also really likes alternative fashion, but he never really had the money, thought, or time to get into it

so it'll be super cool for him if you lend him some of your clothes or if you two went shopping!! he thinks you both look sick as fuck

he's quick to notice if you're burning out socially, and will get you two out of there asap (he also has a low social battery, but not when it comes to his friends)

he likes hearing you talk about stuff you like. he's a great listener, and he's sure to let you know you aren't annoying him or anything like that. he also has a lot of stuff he wants to rant about, but it'll probably take time for him to open up

[silence-the-barking-monk]

Simplify, simplify, simplify.”

– Henry David Thoreau, Walden.

Rules for a simpler lifestyle cannot be universal rules. We are responsible for their imagination and situation. Nor is a simpler lifestyle a panacea for what ails. But, a simpler lifestyle can be an act of faith as a matter of personal integrity and commitment to a more just distribution of the world’s scarce resources. It can be a resolution against a mindset that calls for overconsumption.

Jesus called his disciples to become simpler like a child. Withdrawal from the often neurotic pressure of our materialistic society can be a response to that call. It can be an act of solidarity with the vast majority of humanity which lacks the range for choices we enjoy.

A simpler lifestyle can be a way to share with those who have less and a way of returning to them what is usurped by unjust social and economic structures. Assuming a stance of under-consumption can be provocative invitation to others into a conversation about affluence, poverty and social justice.

Our faith is not about authority or rules. It’s about service and relationship. We are asked to bring about the kingdom here and now. Simpler can be a way of anticipating that kingdom when God’s justice will right power relationships and resource allocation. A simpler lifestyle can be an act of advocacy for legal changes that will right corrupted patterns of production that disregard the earth and its creatures and over-consumption by a fraction of the population.

Simplifying our demands can align with our needs, redirecting production from Madison Avenue-inspired wants toward goods and services that will satisfy genuine needs.

Do I believe that if I adopt a simpler lifestyle I am going to end poverty and that my actions are going to directly benefit the dispossessed? Maybe yes, maybe no. But any demand for proof of effectiveness only plays into the myth that the poor are the problem and that the rich have the solution.

Ways to Simplify Your Life:

Decide what’s most important to you. What do you value most?

List your current commitments and evaluate them in light of these values. What do you want to be doing with your precious time?

Simplify work tasks. Focus on the essential tasks and eliminate the rest.

Do one thing at a time. Multi-tasking is more complicated, more stressful, and generally less productive.

Sort through your stuff. Pick a room or a closet or a work area and do a thorough purging. Separate into three piles: keep, give away, and trash.

Simplify your wardrobe. Give away things you haven’t worn in the past year.

Limit your purchases. Buy less stuff. Ask yourself if you really need this and if you really need to own this before purchasing it.

Have a place for everything.

Limit your communications. Decide when and how much time you will devote to email, IM, phone calls, etc.

Eat slowly. Slow down to lose weight, improve digestion, and enjoy life more.

Exercise. It helps burn off stress and makes you feel better.

Spend time with the people you love.

Spend time alone. Learn to meditate.

Slow down. Live life more deliberately.

Always ask: Will this simplify my life? If the answer is no, reconsider.

[yeahitsanalt-fuckdogpilers]

Wow now you actually go back and read? Color me fucking suprised.Im going to answer you in one reblog and then im turning off reblogs because im actually so done "arguing" with your ignorant ass specifically.

"exactly, if they acknowledge black people. and take into account there is a continent full of africans then it shouldn't be that hard to apply them to their media."

You would not say this about african media. Again, it does not matter if you exist, they are not obligated to include you, represent you, or accurately depict you, specifically in fiction and fantasy. Its not about how hard something is or not. If they dont fucking want to then they do not have to, and that doesnt make them bad or racist, you are just choosing to see it that way.

"obviously not, since the show is expected to be consumed by japanese audiences. black people watch anime, and just like everyone else they'd like to represented. hence the creation of what you call black washing"

Wanting representation does not excuse being racist dude. Many people, including myself, have given numerous examples of ways you can advocate for representation in american/western media, as well as ways to participate in fandom without being fucking racist and disrespectful. But instead of doing that you insist on blackwashing characters because you want them to be dark/black instead of their original intended race and skintone.

"blacktober means and brings no harm. and you as a white person trying to speak for japanese people, who are the ones being "affected" by "blackwashing" is indefinitely silencing them. not giving them a chance to speak up about something that "targets" them

that's like you being white and trying to say segregation wasn't bad, even though you got the long end of the stick during it."

You are assuming my race, which is racist by the way. I could be fucking middle eastern for all you know. My race is irrelevant. And every pale person is affected by blackwashing. And as for "silencing japanese voices" they have spoken up about it. They speak up when harrassed by you people for not drawing a fucking fictional character dark enough, they speak up when you try to rewrite their history, they do fucking speak up, and you know what they are saying? That they hate people blackwashing their media, they hate people rewriting their history, they hate people mocking their culture and so much more

Just look at the Assassin's creed shadows and yasuke situation, they are fucking pissed.

The thing is you arent fucking listening.

I never said anything about blacktober or that it brings any harm. However the original purpose of it was to push black and other poc creators to the top of the algorithm to support original artists and their works. Blacktober is not blackwashing month and i know damn good and well none of those videos said or implied that. Also you don't actually make any point here nor prove that blackwashing is good. And like ive already pointed out in a previous reblog, definitions change and vary depending on where you are getting it from. Words don't prove whether something exists or not. Words don't prove whether something is right or not. Words dont prove whether something helps or not. Only actions can do that, and the actions show that people blackwash, the actions show the racist intentions and beliefs behind it, the actions show how little it helps.

And you are ignoring every piece of evidence of that.

"woah, no fucking way lol. "light and dark values" is a great way to sugarcoat you being a racist."

I was trying my best to describe how a color wheel works when changing the light or dark values.

Taken from your other reblog

"Cultural appropriation fundamentally involves the act of stealing from another culture. What do you think appropriate means?"

is that not what hoyoverse is doing? stealing from another culture just so they can feign adding representation to their shit game filled to the brim with ghosts for just another cash grab.

~~~~~

1. They have never claimed to represent anyone or that any if the areas are meant to. If you really want an example of the closest thing to that happening might i recommend you look in to the AC Shadows situation?

2. Please learn how gachas work

And 3.

Inspiration is not cultural appropriation. Mihoyo is not claiming latin anerican cultures as their own. Just like they dont claim japanese, german, french, middle eastern cultures as their own.

No one is walking down the streets of china in mexican garments and eating tacos and saying its chinese culture. No one is saying its original or made by them and not latin americans. That would be real cultural appropriation.

But the thing is, no ones fucking doing that. Mihoyo isn't incorporating latin american cultures into natlan in order to claim it for their own, nor to represent anyone.

If using elements of another culture as inspiration for something is cultural appropriation then you better start canceling damn near any media in the fantasy genre. You also might as well forget about asians including black people and cultures into their works.

You can't just claim someone or something is stealing a concept, which is what cultures are, when no one is claiming to own them, to have made them up themselves, or represent them.

After some thought i decided i wanted to make sure people can see this absolutely insane ignorant belief some people have.

Take a look at this these articles

You are a minority in america sure but not the whole damned world

The idea that black people cant be racist, especially towards pale people because they are a minority in america is really fucking stupid when you consider the fact that Africa as a whole and some other countries have a majority of black people. Can they also not be racist?

If not then how can you claim asians can be racist, or that mihoyo can be racist. Asians have an even smaller population in the US compared to black people.

"but they make up the majority of the world-"

AND BLACK PEOPLE MAKE UP THE MAJORITY OF FUCKING AFRICA AND NUMEROUS, NUMEROUS OTHER PLACES.

"Racism does not require the superiority in power or numbers that white people in America have. It is merely an attitude or belief, usually derogatory, about a race or ethnicity that is not true."

And if you fucking think black people are the only people to be made slaves, oppressed, and so much more purely on the color of their skin then you need to pick up a fucking history book. Especially since slavery still exists, and is extremely profitable, to this day. And even though slavery was abolished in america we both know damned well it still happens and you better fucking believe its not just white people doing it.

[3smo]

hcs for kim dokja !

warning: dom reader. sub characters. gender neutral. sex hcs. virgin kdj. corruption kink. mind breaking. whether you prefer a strap or dick, i use 'dick/cock' doesn't mean the reader has a gender. dumbification. fingering.

✿ disclaimer — I only write for characters 18+. if you don't like my content, please block me.

@lvyino this is for you 😩😳

yoo jonghyuk.

dokja is most likely a virgin. in all his life, he's never even touched someone in a way so intimately nor has someone done the same to him.

poor baby gets so nervous when he wanted to have his first time, he automatically thought he was suppose to go on top since between the two of you, you were the most gentle one. he assumed you've never had sex before and he wanted you to be comfortable.

but he's also competitive and prideful, he'll try his best to please you. please don't laugh at him when he tries to praise you, it's awkward and even he knows it.

so grab his face and smash your lips together, he also whimpers into them which makes it much hotter.

as soon as he found out who was way more experienced, he gave his body and mind to you. i think he felt relieved too, and being on top just made him uncomfortable.

absolutely loves when you mark him up. he'd be moaning and gasping if you do. the next morning he'll get super embarrassed, even though he was the one who asked for it. i think he likes how it contrasts against his skin color. sensitive spots are his inner thighs and collarbones, so make sure to leave as much as you can.

so the first time he received head, he thought it was going to be easy to just get what he wants. especially since you're very gentle with him, kissing down his body and whispering praises to him. he was feeling confident.

then suddenly that gentleness was replace with something else. no matter how many times he whines for you to please let him finish, you never gave in. only until you felt the need to.

probably cries and sobs when nearing his orgasm.

he cries out loud and squirms around to push you off, although, he's gripping any part of you he can to keep you on him. his body quivers a lot during sex, even having many after shocks.

being corrupted was probably a hidden fantasy of his, though he automatically knew he liked it when you kept getting rougher with him. he liked the change and the challenge.

so dokja wants to keep up with you, he wants to turn it into a game to see who can break first, he probably becomes very bratty, talks back and shit but i don't think you'd mind, seeing how comfortable enough he was to act like that.

or it was just an act to cover up how shy he really was. which is true.

the easiest way to break him; fucking him at a slow pace, make sure you're looming over him and he can barely move. it makes him feel small and so good. all he can do is cry and grip at the bed sheets.

"pleasepleaseplease!!" he'd repeat, eyes shut tightly and head thrown back. you kept your slow, agonizing pace. he would try to move back on your dick but due to the position he was in, he couldn't.

"gah! i- please! im sorry!" he'd beg and sob for forgiveness, wanting to cum so badly, but it just wouldn't happen. he's gotten so used to be fucked roughly, he can't handle when you're being slow.

you simply coo at him, wiping the tears from his face and left a lingering kiss to his lips. he tries to chase after it.

"we're going at this pace, or we're stopping." kim dokja was already too turned on from this, it couldn't stop now!

another way is through humiliation - imagine how surprised everyone would be if they found out how he acted in bed. how a little feathery touch to his nipples gets him hard. or how much he loves to get filled up.

he also has very sensitive nipples. they get swollen very easily, and if you play with them too much, he could barely wear a shirt without his nipples rubbing against the fabric.

"you look so dumb!" you laugh at his face, he can't help but tear up. anyone would've thought he hated it, but he keep leaking even more everytime you spoke to him like this!

"bet you can barely even think, can you darling?"

he tries his best to keep his composure, you find it adorable. his cheeks were flushed, his body was bruised with bite marks and hickeys. its obvious to anyone what was going on inside your room. he's so loud.

he'll try prove to you that he can still think, and the attempt is so pathetic and whiny.

kim dokja would think you were very easy.

seeing as you love to touch him. it's so easy to get you to kiss him or cuddle with him. but he was so easy to give in to every little thing you did to him.

was he the easy one?

another head cannon that i can't stop thinking about is wet dreams. dokja has lots of them, he fantasies about lots of things he wants you to do with him. they will either come from his own mouth, or someone will expose him for it.

it always happens.

when dokja wakes up from one, he immediately tries to shake it off. his heart is beating rapidly and he's sweating all over.

he dreams of lots of things.

you in a garter belt. being tied up at your mercy. getting spanked.

dokja would never think of getting spanked before but when you slap his hand away from... anything (ex: when he tries to touch himself or you.) he'll let out a loud whine at the sting but it felt good... he imagined how it would feel on his ass.

uuhh getting choked with your thighs, hands. dokja has a wild imagination. so imagine what would happen if they were exposed?!

do you know how embarrassed dokja would get! so he better get to telling you about them before they burst out.

moving on from that topic.

have you seen his waist?! grip it, doesn't matter if its bruising or he gets ticklish, dokja finds it so hot when you're holding onto his waist and fucking him from behind.

i honestly think dokja would be embarrassed about getting fingered. but not by having your dick inside him?

he hides his face a lot, and tries to close his legs, maybe its cause his sensitivity gets really high from humiliation.

so restricting him with bondage will help. his legs are set apart, the rope from his ankle is keeping him from squirming away.

now he's even more embarrassed about it. his legs are wide open and you can see everything. from his twitching cock to his shy expressions.

there's something dokja can't live without and that's being touched.

it doesn't matter whether you're degrading him or being mean to him. physical contact is something he yearns for behind closed doors. just hold him and he'll melt, he will try to bring you closer whenever he can, even if its impossible.

so not touching him would be punishment for him.

i don't think he'll liked to be punish either, he'll try his best to be a good boy, but he has a little tinge of brattiness to him. poor baby doesn't like it when you're mad at him :((

· · ·

[oddaodd]

· Nice Things ·

Summary: Charlie snaps at Y/n and Tommy feels guilty. 

Author’s Note: This completely materialized itself in my mind a few hours ago, so here you have it, another angsty arranged marriage fic on me. 

Warnings: arranged marriage

·

“I don’t want to eat them”

“Well you have to eat them, they are good for you” Y/n insisted for what seemed like the thousand time, but Charlie’s unwillingness to eat his vegetables didn’t falter.

Y/n grasped onto the bit of patience that she had left after putting up with Charlie’s sullen mood for the majority of the day after he had a particularly lousy violin lesson. She didn’t know how much longer her patience would last so she resorted to a harmless threat that she assumed would compel the boy to eat.

“If you don’t eat them you’ll be grounded tomorrow”

But her threat didn’t have the desired effect and Charlie sent Y/n a poisonous stare.

“I don’t care what you say, you are not my mum so you can’t ground me!”

Time froze as Y/n processed the words the boy had just spat at her, shock and hurt evident in her face. Charlie either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the consequence of his words because he got up from his chair and dramatically exited the room immediately after throwing them at Y/n.

She wanted to get up and yell at him to stay, to make him know that he couldn’t talk to her like that, but she felt to sad to do so, so she just let him leave.

“Shall I take away Charles’s plate miss” asked a maid in a timid voice.

Y/n nodded before standing up “Mine too, please.“

She left the room with bloodshot eyes and headed for the garden hurriedly. She was so focused on not letting her tears spill till she was I’m complete solitude that she nearly crashed against Tommy as he stepped out of his car. The moment he saw her eyes he felt a strange strain of sadness, he wanted to ask her what was wrong, but she pushed past him without a word.

He stared at her for a moment as she walked into the garden, wondering what had happened before going into the house and asking Frances about it.  

Y/N lit a cigarette and began roaming around the well kept flowerbeds, smiling weakly at the beauty of each bloom and leaf. She felt embarrassed that Tommy had seen her like that, not that she thought he would care, but still, she had never allowed herself to cry in front of him. Not when he coldly dismissed her every attempt to get closer to him, not when she felt agonizingly alone in his big house and not even when he kissed her passionlessly on their wedding day before signing a business arrangement with her family.  

Ever since she had moved into the house she had tried everything to make it feel like a home, to feel she belonged there somehow. She got along great with Charlie and the rest of Tommy’s family, which helped the burn of his cold demeanor not to hurt that much, but now she couldn’t get Charlie’s words out of her head and she felt pretty much as she did the first night she slept in the house. Alone and miserable.

When the sky turned dark and the air grew cold Y/n went into the house and up to the bedroom she shared with Tommy, not stopping at Charlie’s door to kiss him goodnight.

When she entered her room she was surprised to see Tommy sitting on their bed, smoking a cigarette. He was never in bed that early, but she didn’t let her surprise show and made her way to the bathroom avoiding his stare.

Tommy knew Y/n was a smart, kind and beautiful woman, one that any man would be lucky to call wife. Even Polly had told him so during his wedding party. And even despite not wanting to admit it, Y/n’s smile was contagious, and it pained him when it faltered at his usual curtness. Tommy hated that he knew it was breaking her. She didn’t deserve his indifference nor Charlie’s harmful comments.

He admired her through the ajar bathroom door as she went through her nightly routine which was something he had never cared to be around to witness, since he always procured to not be in the room until she was asleep. Her usual happy aura was replaced with a sad one and Tommy could swear he saw a few tears rolling down her reflection on the mirror as she delicately removed her makeup.

He could still hear Pollys words in his head “You better treat her right, she deserves it”

He had to make it right.

Y/n exited the bathroom and walked around the bed giving Tommy a brief smile before laying down, facing the opposite side.

“I spoke to Charles” he said after a few beats of silence.

Y/n hummed too exhausted to thread a verbal response.

“He won’t ever talk to you like that again and..”

Y/n’s shoulders shook softly at his words. The wound was still too fresh. Tommy sighed sadly, his emotions catching up to him for he knew she wasn’t crying just because of what Charlie had said.

He scooted closer to her and snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him hoping he hadn’t been to late to try and make things better.

Y/n felt the already tight knot in her throat tighten even more at Tommys rare tender act of affection. It was the first time he had ever done something of the sort and in Y/n’s emotional state, the importance of it increased significantly.

“Im sorry, Y/n” he spoke honestly, near her ear.

“Its not your fault” she said as her hand hesitantly went to hold onto Tommy’s arm, sinking into his embrace. Warm and welcoming and just what she needed.

“Yes it is, I am a shit husband and you’ve been nothing but nice, I am not used to nice things. I know you deserve so much better than this, and I’ll be better”

At his confession, turned around and looked into his blue eyes though her teary ones. They seemed honest and Y/n knew he meant what he said.

Tommy then took her hand and brought it to his lips pressing a kiss to it causing butterflies to swarm Y/n’s insides “I promise”

Y/n smiled at him weakly and brought her hand to his cheek tenderly, her thumb softly caressing tommy’s skin, something she had never gotten the chance to feel before.

“I know” she said before snuggling closer to him, feeling welcome in Tommy’s warm embrace for the very first time.

·

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime @babylooneytoonz

[wheelsup]

the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

<- prev | next ->

Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon. 

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you. 

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger. 

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week. 

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept. 

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling. 

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you. 

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!” 

Your head just about exploded when she said that. 

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you. 

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”  

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.” 

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless? 

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.” 

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim. 

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured. 

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?” 

“That his girlfriend died last year.” 

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there. 

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit. 

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…” 

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.” 

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from. 

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not. 

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made. 

“There’s nothing I need from you.” 

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?” 

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea. 

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more. 

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off. 

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.” 

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

*

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch. 

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!” 

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales. 

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets. 

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down. 

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works. 

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so. 

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.” 

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend. 

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?” 

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income. 

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended. 

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill. 

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe. 

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.” 

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped. 

“Did you need something?” 

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!” 

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.” 

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line. 

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?” 

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.” 

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care. 

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him. 

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.” 

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.” 

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency. 

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that. 

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here. 

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?” 

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.” 

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before. 

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath. 

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly. 

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.” 

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer. 

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you. 

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems. 

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that. 

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that. 

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him. 

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.” 

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

-

-

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

thank you so much for being on my taglist 💕 

if you’d like to join, the link is at the top of my masterlist

@ellesgreenaway @suburban–gothic @mercy-burning @reidspurple @mediocre-writer @honeyboysteezy @andreasworlsboring101 @calm-and-doctor @drayshadow @reidgifs @you-sunshine @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @altsvu @reidtheprettyboy @goose-eats-god @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @amoeebaa @reidingmelodies @reidyoulikeabook @anaagraceeberr @spencerreid9 @luvofyourlifeliv @averyhotchner @spencerreidat3am @paw71211 @princesssmooshie @gubeskneescrew @gourdboy @reid-me-a-story @reidabookforonce @willowrose99 @singularityjc @spencerreid9 @miahelen @alltooreid @meganskane @multixfandomwriter @coldlilheart @lunajoyce3 @boldlyvoid @destiny-tsukino @ahhahahhh @spencers-dria @cocomoo1 @spenxerslut @thehuntresswolf @ssa-natalya-reid @the-chaotic-cow @kuolonsyoja @queenofthepouges @gublersss @username2002 @msspencerreid @itwouldburnupintheatmosphere @oeuryale @big-galaxy-chaos @reidsacademia @idonotexiste @rem-ariiana @spencerreidscumwhore @spaceapplehead @newgirlinhell @noellestrash @jswessie187 @reidaissance @violetclifford @fruitoftheweek @mystical-and-modern-marauder @ilovespencerreidmarryme @mlqcool @opheli-yeah @lytrc @youabitchhhh @spencerscumrag @dinonuggets1967 @flowerchildprotectiveservices @annalayton19 @mrsobrien888 @toast-on-t0ast @xoxospencerreid @motionlessgirl12 @bloodyxheaven @my-thoughts-are-weird @rexorangecouny @nani-2305 @measure-in-pain @donald4spiderman @mrs-dr-reid @manuosorioh @sapphic-prentiss @reid-me-a-story @reblogsoffanfics @winifrede @peoniarose @takeyourleap-of-faith @morks-watermelon @silverhetdanes @luwheezey @cc13723things @starrylang @b00b133 @kidd3ath @seastarapiaries  @sergiosbae  @mrsobrien888 @jesuisbenny  @cocomoo1 @youabitchhhh @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @silverhetdanes @onlyhereforthefanfics @shesalatesh @amoeebaa @happymangospot @spencersrose @mugi-chwan @reidsadriana @death-becomes-her @nyx2021 @subbyspencereid @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @nomajdetective @cherriesrae @bisexual-virgin @jasminearondottir @gublur @greenrevolutionary @honeyedheartss @gspenc @sweetandsunny @the-chaotic-cow​ @morganwilliams  @futuremrsreid @spencerreidsmommy @meanergreener​

series only taglist: @madsgraygubler @manuosorioh @fanfictionfangirl04@donkeykongsmassiveballs @rexorangecouny​ @iwannabemorethanme@mlqcool @lightning-butterfly

new tags not working: @strawberrycherrykisses @marrymespencerreid @iilwsr @chelsea-the-enchanted @craybae1116

(and just so you don’t think i removed you from the taglist/sign up again without knowing, these tags are. also not working): @pissbit @redevil590 @kaz-2y567 @datsimplol @reid-to-me @rem-ariiana @thegirlinthedresscriedalltheway @jaddi-e @spencerswildestdreams1 @sskylarpaige26 @zbgubler @nyasiablack1899 @faithsamantha @chrisdylan17 @just_arandomwriter @peterisbetterthanpietro @thegirlinthedresscriedalltheway @jaddi-e @chloehanson

[free-pool-trash]

happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.