#shit new yorkers say

[sher-ee]

Trump is the platter and the GOP is the broken glass incase that wasn’t clear.

- David Sedaris

[zaycheese]

I was at my math tutoring place yesterday and made some comment like "Ohhh, I'm stupid" and he was like "Well you are from Florida" in a way which was clearly meant to be a hehe haha but oh my god.

[heytheredeann]

Modern Napollya AU in which they work different jobs and Illya’s coworkers are convinced that his boyfriend is a short guy from Texas. It’s kinda Illya’s fault:

he refers to him as “Cowboy” like 95% of the time. people think it’s cute and a little bit weird.

he has a tiny cowboy with a bouncy head that he keeps at his desk, the only explanation being “it’s tiny cowboy. like Solo.”

he lords those five inches of height difference over him, as he should, so he has made the occasional reference to him being tiny, like talking about how Solo couldn’t reach something on the top shelf, Illya got it for him, and he got all annoyed, claiming that he “could get it himself, fuck you”. Illya is very pleased with himself for being annoying.

once he arrives late for work and says it’s because his boyfriend was asleep in his lap (he’s a big lapcat, and if a cat falls asleep on you you are legally required to never move again). This is further fuel for the “short boyfriend” theory.

And then one day Napoleon shows up at some work party or something and Illya’s coworkers are shocked to learn that he is a 6 feet tall New Yorker in a three-piece suit.

[applecherry108]

So I have never spent any amount of time looking at a map of nyc in all my 31 years of life, so getting on Google maps and staring and studying and Realizing™️ some shit has been hilarious and surreal.

I did not know that their famous subway does not connect to Staten Island.

They were not kidding, that island is Long

The Statue of Liberty is technically in New Jersey waters???

The statue is way further inland (in-bay?) than I realized.

Hell’s Kitchen is larger than I gave it credit for

It’s also like. A block away from Times Square

It always fucks me up that Central Park is. So. Rectangular. Perfectly rectangular. I Know nyc is “a grid system mf” but the park still looks like that image of Colorado superimposed on a natural borders map of the us. It looks weird.

I am not, however, surprised at how fucking massive the park is. I Knew one (1) thing about the city, and it was that.

I truly did not understand that the City is on 3 separate fucking islands. Like I know I have no concept of anything and I know I’ve never had any special interest in nyc, but the more I look at it the more I feel like I’ve never absorbed any information about it ever in my life.

Yonkers.

[yuureimajo]

.

[lovevalley45]

so like if natalie left england and john for new york n astra was born in NYC. jokin abt hell being wall street but more evil is frankly even better

[etoileee]

please please please tell me what percy is like😛

PERCY JACKSON IN MY DR Ψ

I’m so sorry this took so long! I don’t know why but I genuinely find it so hard to describe literally anything from my dr, like when I’m asked for example what Percy is like, I can’t come up with words that describe him... I just get these abstract thoughts and emotions that I associate with him.

It might be the fact that I'm dyslexic lmao but going on;

I don't consider Percy Jackson intimidating, but he definitely can be 1000%

He isn't shy at all, for example when I first met him we made eye contact, and he DID NOT look away. like I won't lie sometimes when I make eye contact with people I try and see if I can make them look away first just for the fun of it, but no he put my ass in my place that day.

I made a post talking about how people too often forget that he's a New Yorker and borderline juvenile and a lot of you thought it was funny but I am SERIOUS SEND HELP

He's a bit blunt, very honest. if he doesn't like some shit you're doing he'll tell you. I mentioned in my last post that he isn't afraid of confrontation and truly I mean it, I'm the type that tries to avoid it but once the opportunity presents itself he jumps to it, and he WILL fight ur ass, especially if it's someone he cares about that's on the line.

besides that part of him, I also noticed he is very protective. again, especially about people he cares about. he is the type that will defend you if he's with people who are talking badly about you and then tell you what they said about you then never talk to them again.

In my dr him and I just recently met so I haven't really experienced protective Percy, he did end up defending me two times, once during Capture the Flag and once when we were training, and both times I was honestly shocked. like I know his fatal flaw is his loyalty, but I didn't think he would say anything in my defence.

When I told him "You didn't have to do that" he got annoyed. dead ass told me "Why wouldn't I?" alright then... lemme shut up

HE IS SOOO SASSY

He's leading the sassy man apocalypse I've watched him roll his eyes when Dionysus talks or literally when anyone says anything he doesn't like... like okay princess calm down.

It's honestly really funny though I giggle a lil when I notice him getting annoyed.

something else I noticed is that low-key he's good with kids and it's really cute to watch. He's awkward as hell yes but he's good at helping them not doubt themselves.

I watched him help a group of what I think were nine-year-olds with sparring, he was a bit of an awkward teacher yes but after a few encouraging words their little doubtful faces went away, and once they got it right he would be like "See? I told you, you could do it."

Those memes that are like "Percy from his pov" and it's him just thinking he's an average teenage boy and then the "From everyone else's pov" and he's like a god are so accurate he's a little bit mesmerizing ngl.

overall I like Percy, but we're both trying to figure each other out and its so obvious. I wouldn't say we're friends yet, but we might be getting there. slowly but surely 😭

as of right now our relationship is that of two people forced into a group project for school that are slowly getting to know each other

[modawg]

annabeths in the TRENCHES having a crush on this random white boy now LMAOO

i know half of camp bullies her everyday when percy’s at school during the year and she’s sat at that jank ass computer in the big house exchanging emails

she probably drafts them up in a notebook before she rewrites them in the actual email after she hogged the computer one day trying to figure out what to say and her siblings with snatch up the journal and start reading the drafts aloud when she won’t give them attention

“dear percy😍😍❤️😋🙏🏼 i hope🤞🏼😂 ur having a good 👍🏼😊 time-”

“I WILL CARVE OUT YOUR GOD DAMN TONGUE YOU GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING JOURNAL”

like they would do this for any crush but the fact that it’s some white new yorker poseidons son makes it so much funnier to them

she also prob prints out his emails if they’re long updates so she can properly dissect and respond to everything too like she takes this shit WAY to seriously

i also firmly believe she’d print out the pictures he sent too and has like a folder under her bunk mattress of all of them that she can look at while using the less obvious ones as bookmarks and things to put on her wall

[fbfh]

can you please do more percy jackson hc ?? also i absolutely love your writing

aw shucks babes <33333 OFC I can do more percy hcs

been losing my godsdam shit over the show (cici can attest to this) so now all I can think about is growing up with percy, being best friends to eventual lovers with him.

you go to some strict boarding school for troubled kids that's not too far from percy and sally's apartment. you first met percy when yall were in elementary school, you snuck off campus and had absolutley no idea how to navigate the city. luckily for you percy happened to be ditching school at the same time. percy, a scrappy born and raised new yorker sees you, obviously a fish out of water, and can't help but approach to make sure you're okay.

"you lost or somethin?"

you look at the boy who looks to be about your age, but is clearly much more comfortable in the bustling looming city.

"is it obvious?"

he takes you under his wing. he shows you how to read subway maps and how the streets are based on a grid, so once you know that it's pretty hard to get lost. you run around the city all day feeling like Eloise and Leon (45:42), he takes you to his favorite bodega and you buy a bunch of blue candy and fountain cokes with your pocket money. you run around the parks and chase the birds, he shows you how to sneak under the turnstiles when no one's listening and how to ride the subway. you end up making your way to the upper east side where sally's apartment is, and percy greets his mom as she comes back from work to introduce her to his new best friend. you smile when he says it, and you realize it's true. in a matter of hours you've become best friends, like kids do. percy sees your smile and knows you feel the same way. sally sees this little exchange and can't even be mad at percy for skipping school, she's just so relieved he has a friend. a real, genuine friend that seems to be a lot more like him that she could have hoped. she knows she should probably repremand you both for skipping school, for running around the city alone, but she can't. she greets you with a warm smile and invites you to stay for dinner. it's not hard to find who to call for you based on the school uniform you're still wearing, and somehow with her mom magic, sally convinces them that you got lost instead of deliberately going awol. you and percy part so so reluctantly, with both of you begging sally for another playdate next weekend, which would turn out to be the first of many.

[l0stfoster]

Handing you guys an entire canvas of just Cursed Paul bc he hasn’t left my brain.

As usual, some little doodle content stuff teehee

- We retconned it so that the socs only stopped attacking Paul because Soda’s terrifying ass showed up. Umbra (Paul’s familiar) ran home looking for Darry and found Soda. He's her favorite of the gang so she's like 'good enough' and starts SCREAMING at the dude to get him to follow her. - The socs didn't know if Paul's power was physical or if he could use his voice like Soda so they choked him </3. They would've killed him in the process if Soda didn't show up. Imagine being in this dark ass alley busy jumping a guy and then you're faced with a fae who has this low-ass growl, with glowing eyes and fangs. Not to mention this looming shadow of a cat the size of a Caracal growling at you too. I'd be scared - Soda bursts their eardrums as he should (new power we decided on teehee. Supersonic whistle type shit, can break glass) - Some Parry bc Paul may be beat shitless but he's still Darry's pretty boy <3 - They can't get married but they have wedding rings. Paul's is a little one made of vines w/ a pretty little flower bc Darry couldn't afford a real one yet. Pony made it actin' like he didn't want to but made it literally gorgeous and one of a kind. Darry's is an actual ring because Paul saved up for that bitch for ages. Darry had an aneurysm when he saw it bc that bitch had an authentic diamond on it, Paul will not tell him how much it was. - Dally is the only one allowed to beat up Paul and will be very loud about it. Local New Yorker haphazardly slams fist over the head of this witch dude who probably has a concussion more at 5 - This isn't in the doodles here but I'm saying it as a fun sneak peek at some future art/writing for those who read this; Paul's magic is tied to his life force he will die if he ever loses his curse,, also blood rituals are dangerous <3. - If he's too frantic, Paul's magic can falter. Not very good when you're being jumped by a fuck ton of your old friends. - Paul is THE fucking cat dad ever. Umbra is his baby he birthed her /silly. She can do no wrong and he's her #1 defender.

I'm so sorry to the people who don't care for this au I'm insane rn.

On another note, that Greaser Design Lineup should be out soon!! Waiting for my Art Block to go away before I start the proper Justice For Tulsa frames bc they're more complex than quick little doodles!!

[sanguineterrain]

if you give a spider a pastry... | miguel o'hara

Summary: Mango turnovers and a bloody Spider-Man. Basically, a regular night in New York. 

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x baker!gn!reader 

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings/tags: injured Miguel (he's okay dw), brief arguing. mostly fluff and sass. first meeting.

A/N: hi y'all! I watched ATSV yesterday and the Miguel brainrot has advanced <3 this is my first time including Spanish in a fic. Since Miguel is Mexican, I did research and tried to incorporate Mexican slang. It's not the responsibility of any reader to correct me—however, I appreciate corrections of the Spanish, if offered. :) 

A/N 2: also, the timeline/universe details are vague in this one, but I pictured that the reader is not in Earth-2099. 

If you enjoy this fic, please let me know through comments and reblogs ♡

the divider

Something is trying to crawl into your dumpster. 

You've armed yourself accordingly (got a dust broom out of the closet) and after fifteen minutes of agonizing over whether you should go outside or go to bed, you have decided you are going to deal with the pesky raccoon once and for all. Or cat. Or opossum. Whatever. You just hope it doesn't have rabies. 

Slowly, you edge open the back door of the kitchen to the bakery. You tap the outside railing a couple of times with your broom. Clink clink. There's no sound in response, so you step out a little further, hitting the broom bristles against the stairs. 

"Ba-boom, ba-boom!" you shout into the alley. You'd read you're supposed to make noise to scare off raccoons. Or was it bears? 

No, that doesn't make sense. When's the last time you saw a damn bear in New York? 

You wait, heart rate climbing. There's no more noise, so you open the door all the way and quickly shut it behind you, gripping the broom with both hands. You jump out into the open. 

The dumpster is covered, which is wildly embarrassing for you. However, right next to the dumpster is a giant dude in what you assume is a Spider-Man costume, though it's not like the one you've seen. 

His stomach is covered in blood.

"Holy fuck," you say, dropping the broom. "Shit. Fuck! Oh my—uh, s-stay right there, don't move."

"Sound advice," he says dryly, startling you. "I was going to do a little dance for you."

Okay. Blood loss has different effects on people. You can't take it personally; this dude has half his guts in the alley. 

You grit your teeth and pull out your phone, shakily typing in your passcode. As soon as you do, a glowing orange rope—web?—shoots out and yanks your phone right out of your hand. 

"No," he grits out. "Todo bien."

"Everything is not fine. What is wrong with you, dude? You're bleeding out!"

"I'm not bleeding out, dude; most of the blood isn't mine."

"Yeah, that's definitely not true," you say. "Look, I don't know what would possess a person to come out here ten o'clock at night and do… whatever this is, but I'm not letting someone die next to my dumpster. Give me my phone!"

"No," he says, hissing in pain as he shifts his weight. "You're overreacting and hysterical."

"Hysterical?" 

You can't see his face but you know he's rolling his eyes. 

"Can you relax?" he asks. "Chale, I'm not itching to bleed out next to your dumpster. I'll be on my way as soon as my body repairs itself enough for me to move."

"You're literally insane, man. Absolutely bonkers. You've lost your Silly String."

"Silly String…" he echoes.

You strut up to him and try to snatch your phone. He dodges you a couple of times, then swats at you like a cat. 

"Enough," he snaps. "Don't make me web you."

"Web me? Okay, you know what? Screw you, man. I'm not gonna call anybody. Bleed out for all I care. Keep the goddamn phone, I'll get a new one. Christ."

You pick up your broom and stomp up the stairs, yanking open the back door and slamming it behind you. Fucking New Yorkers. First rule of living here: mind your business! You try to be a good Samaritan and get verbally accosted by Spider-Man on steroids. Typical. 

You fume for about two full minutes, glaring angrily at your shelf of baking trays. Then you hear the bane of your existence groan in pain outside. All the anger leaves you. 

You can't just ignore him. Accelerated healing or not, he's vulnerable. What if someone tries to attack him? 

This is probably the worst idea you've ever had. You walk to the fridge anyway and pull out two mango turnovers. You nuke them in the microwave, which physically pains you to do, but you're in a time crunch, so. 

You open the door gently this time and step outside. 

"Spider-Man?" you ask quietly. 

You hear him sigh. 

"¿Qué quieres?"

You go down the stairs and walk so you're in view again. He hasn't moved from his position. Your phone rests on his uninjured thigh. 

"Sorry for yelling at you," you say. 

He stiffens, then looks away. 

"You don't need to apologize. I… Soy un cabrón."

"Yeah," you say, walking over and sitting across from him. "Little bit." 

He sniffs the air, his suit's eyes narrowing at you. You set the paper plate with the pastry on his thigh and take your phone back. 

"What's this?" 

"It's a mango turnover," you say. "I've been experimenting this week."

"Why is it on my leg?"

"What, did you think I was gonna feed you?"

"Take it," he orders. "I don't want it."

"Are you allergic? I have other flavors."

"The flavor is not the problem."

You bite into your own pastry. You puff out air, trying to cool it down. 

"Ih hah," you tell him through a mouthful. 

"Oh, really?" he deadpans. 

You swallow. "I'm trying to extend an olive branch here, Spider-Man. I think we got off on the wrong foot."

"Why did you come back out?" he asks exasperatedly. 

"I didn't want you to be alone," you say. "What if someone tries to pull off your mask and ruin your secret identity? That's, like, totally devastating in the superhero world, right?"

"And what exactly would you do if they did? Throw a pastry at them? Whack them with your broom?"

"I'm wily," you say, biting into your pastry. "You should eat it before it gets cold."

"No."

"They came out pretty good, if I do say so. Priya—she's my other baker—had her doubts, and I did too, honestly. But this seems like a success."

He remains stoic, likely glaring at you. You finish your pastry and flick the crumbs off your mouth. 

"You'd be doing me a favor, taste testing," you add. "Gotta make sure it suits other people's palettes." 

"I already did you a favor by getting rid of the people who did this," he says, gesturing to the blood. 

Your mouth pinches unhappily. 

"I wish you'd let me take you to the hospital."

"It's unnecessary. I'll be fine soon."

"You're nuts, Opossum-Man."

"Opossum-Man?" he asks, sounding comically offended. "I'm clearly a spider."

"I think that's subjective," you say. "But I'm only calling you that because I thought there was an opossum in my dumpster. Turns out it was you." 

"That's ridiculous," he says. "Wait, what do you mean it's subjective? I'm obviously Spider-Man." 

"Well, what are the pointy things under your eyes?" you ask. "Those throw me off. They look like fangs. I thought you were supposed to be a spider. Those are, like, bat features." 

"Spiders do have fangs," he says with a huff. "How do you think they incapacitate their prey?"

"I think you're giving the New York public school system way too much credit here, dude. I didn't learn all that. We had a unit about bees. How come there's no Bee-Man?" 

He scoffs. "What would that even entail? A guy who flies around pollinating the city?" 

You giggle. 

"You're kinda funny, Spider-Fangs."

"I do stand-up in my spare time. Speaking of…"

He pushes himself to stand with a quiet grunt. You stand with him, arm outstretched in case he needs help. Not that he'd take your help. But still. 

He's a big guy. You'd figured as much by his giant shoulders, but standing in front of him really puts it into perspective. You have to crane your head to see his face. 

He hands you the plate. You pull the saddest pout you can muster.

"You're not even gonna taste it?" you ask. 

"No."

"Okay," you mumble, defeatedly taking the plate.

He looks at you for a long moment, then tilts his head forward, pinching the bridge of his nose.  

"Mierda—okay, fine. One bite."

You bounce on your toes as he takes the turnover and lifts his mask up to his nose. You're transfixed by his exposed skin, the dark freckle on his jaw, his full bottom lip. Wow. 

He barely opens his mouth, biting the corner. He chews, swallows, and pulls down his mask. You miss the view immediately. 

"It's good," he says. 

"Holy crap, was that a compliment? Did Spider-Man call my pastry good?"

"I take it back." 

"You can't," you inform him cheerily. "I'm going to put it on my advertisements. Opossum-Man approved! Sales will skyrocket."

He walks away, limping only slightly. Well, you suppose that's better than how he was half an hour ago. 

"Good night!" you call after him. 

He pauses, then turns. 

"How are you getting home?" he asks. 

"Oh, I live right above," you say, pointing behind you. "No worries."

He nods. 

"Órale. Don't visit uptown for a while."

You salute. "You got it, Opossum." 

He flings a web string and then he's gone. It's only then that you look at the plate and realize he took the pastry with him. You can't help your little grin.

[imdead770]

Dallas with a s/o who lived in NYC too and has a similar accent as him pls🙏🙏 (Also I love love love you’re writing keep doing what you’re doing!!!)

Dallas Winston x Reader - NYC

Authors Note - I have like 3 asks before this but I love this and it means it get to write a NY accent and that's so fun

Sorry for never writing yall

No excuse I'm just lazy 💞

¤ Just a warning this is super stereotypical

¤ I'm sorry I'm from the south I don't know yall so I'm going off stereotypes 😭😭

¤ First of all people can barely understand either of you

¤ I mean everyone else has a southern accent, they're used to that

¤ So an accent that sounds like you're drunk 24/7 isn't exactly easy to understand

¤ If you're both from New York, you already have a lot in common

¤ The fights, the accent, the road rage, the food, all that

¤ Now I'm from the south, I haven't met a lot of New Yorkers

¤ But the ones I have met always have such a resting bitch face

¤ So like whenever someone introduced you to Dal (or the other way around) you both had that same, natural glare

¤ And somehow you both got the 'holy shit, you're a New Yorker too??' message

¤ I don't know how but New Yorkers just know if you're a New Yorker

¤ It's like a 6th sense

¤ So naturally you're both mean to each other

¤ The others are like 'oh shirt they hate each other'

¤ You don't

¤ Like eventually you leave and Dals all

"She ain't bad."

¤ And everyone's all

"You just insulted each other like.. 25 times?"

¤ And he just nods and lights a cigarette like he didn't just meet his second favorite person in this town

¤ Naturally you both see each other at some pizza place

¤ Probably one that's closest to greasy NY pizza

¤ This is meant as a compliment, yall have such good pizza omfg

¤ You both realize just how much you have in common

¤ How thick the air is, the random guy getting his ass beat as you're just minding your business, the fact nobody here can understand certain words you say

¤ You two understand each other

¤ If Dallas would ever open up to someone about his trauma (he wouldn't), it'd be you

¤ He knows you've seen at least a sliver of the same shit he did

¤ Anyways, both of yall love to hype of New York together

¤ Like really play into the stereotypes

"Oh ya', a rat nearly ate m' face off once"

"WHAT??"

"Happen'd to me, too"

¤ You both think it's hilarious

¤ Plus yall love to make your accents thicker to confuse people more

¤ Slur the vowels together, mumble more then you need to, then watch people try to figure out what the fuck you just said

¤ Dal gets all mad if someone asks him to lighten up the accent

¤ I think you both like hanging out together because it reminds the other of home

¤ Like Dal almost forgot what a New Yorker who wasn't him sounded like

¤ Plus if Dal ever met your parents, even though he's rude and kind of dangerous, they might tolerate him more

¤ Yall intumidate so many people omg

¤ Like half of that town are sweet southern people

¤ So seeing two New Yorkers you get the classic

"Ew, they're yankees"

¤ Yes we really do say that 👍

¤ But people get all scared cuz they're like 'omg they're gonna shoot me'

¤ Again, you both think it's the funniest shit

¤ Like being yelled at by a New Yorker is scary enough

¤ But TWO

¤ It's like you two are so intimidating together it's perfect

¤ Of course Dal asks you on a date to some pizza place and you two walk around the block sharing a cigarette

¤ Another thing

¤ You're actually used to the cold and he's so, so grateful for that

¤ Everyone else in Oklahoma gets all shivery the moment it's less then 60

¤ Like you don't complain about it and he loves that so much

¤ Back to the topic

¤ Date goes great

¤ Once you two become a thing you fight a good amount

¤ I mean you're from the North, it's natural (I think?? This might be stereotypical so sorry)

¤ Even people from the South fight with Dal so this isn't any different

¤ But since you're both used to fights the insults are crazy

¤ Like the gangs jaws have dropped hundreds of times with what the two of yall come up with

¤ Like it's the most foul, disturbingly impressive, heart breaking insults

¤ Then the other returns it with a snicker and another just as horrendously good insult

¤ Match made in heaven

[fishmech]

you really have to be fucking stupid to believe the nonsense about "Israel is waiting til big events to do big attacks"

First of all: they are committing massive murder constantly every day. Not even just since October but for decades.

Second: none of the big events people claim match up are things that actually hide that? You're just making stupid excuses to cover for countries that don't care anyway. About whole populations that have never cared about Palestinian suffering and Israeli crimes.

But most especially it's galling to see people try to claim the fucking met gala as a "big event" that would drown out war. The fucking local fundraising event that doesn't even get live TV or streaming coverage.

Because it's run by the Vogue fashion magazine by and for the fashion community in general, and to fund the Metropolitan Museum Of Arts' ongoing upkeep of fashion and clothing material exhibits in general, and to provide primary funding for the latest yearly fashion exhibition it immediately precedes.

It's something the vast majority of New Yorkers, let alone the vast majority of Americans, let alone the vast majority of the world doesn't care about. When you declare the stupid event as necessary to hide yet another daily Israeli crime, you're basically revealing you don't actually think of the reality of the ongoing genocide, or have any touch with your own national reality.

But hey the same people saying this shit didn't start pretending to care until 6 months ago. Could never be me, my rabbi grandfather taught us that what Israel was already doing was evil and we should support our Palestinian brothers and sisters and oppose further restrictions and encroachment on their land, lives, and existence. So I already was aware of this shit, of how zionism is at best harmful by accident and most of the time harmful on purpose by like 1999.

Just, when I see people convinced that their favorite little internet day must be a smokescreen for an attack it's like. How are you this unserious as a person? What went wrong with your perception of world events that you have to qanon your way into believing niche events are being used as cover? It's frankly treating real life genocide like it's part of a fucking ARG.

[hellsburners]

burning red

summary: you swear you wouldn't fuck on a window. pairing: tasm!peter parker x male!reader word count: 1.1k warnings: 18+ warning, roomate!peter, violence mentioned (a movie they watch), alcohol, blowjobs, gay sex, top!peter, rimming, anal sex, slight angst?, fuck buddies, window sex, semi-public sex a/n: omg mike finally writes a fic above 1k words act shocked!

masterlist | more peter parker

Two broke New Yorkers, that’s what you two were. Your roommate Peter worked selling pictures to an online news outlet called The Daily Bugle, while you wait tables at an Asian restaurant. It was late at night and you two just got home from work, Peter brought home cold beer while you got free leftovers from the restaurant. 

He was sitting on your small worn-out couch watching a shitty slasher movie on your laptop. You were in the kitchen waiting for the noodles to finish heating in the microwave. At this point, it was a ritual for you two, watching movies while eating amazing cheap food. The food finished heating and you put them in two bowls, aromatic steam filled the room. 

“What happened?” you asked while bringing the food down on the coffee table. Peter was sipping on the amber-colored bottle. 

“These two dudes were fucking in their apartment window until the killer found them, and now it’s the dad giving a speech at the high school,” he said taking the bowl of noodles. 

“If I ever had the chance to get laid I wouldn’t do where other people could see,” you muttered. You take the bowl of food and slurp on the savory dish. Peter side-eyed you in confusion. You look at him and laugh. “Why? You’d get laid in public?”

“I mean, if I had to,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Plus, you’re here all the time. How am I supposed to get some privacy.”

“Oh, I bet you do, Mr. I-fucked-blackcat-at-a-rooftop,” you were fully immersed in the banter, you could see someone getting brutally stabbed in the movie through your peripheral. He laughs at your comment. You knew Peter’s side job, he would talk to you about his experiences all the time. 

“And you would do it too!” 

“Yeah, Black Cat is so hot I’d fuck them too.” he laughs at your retort. 

“I mean I wouldn’t mind doing you in that window either,” Peter muttered, eyeing the small window in your living room. Your brows furrowed while you side-eyed him. He took another sip of his beer, he gave you a flirtatious wink. Your cheeks warmed, from the alcohol, from Peter, you couldn’t pinpoint. 

“You’re fucking drunk, Pete,” you said bringing your finished bowl to the table. 

“I had one bottle, I’m not,” he rests his head on your shoulder. “You wouldn’t do me?” 

Little did this little shit know that you’ve had the biggest crush on this man ever since he tutored you on biochemistry in college. You could feel his soft brown hair on your cheek, the way he smells like the ocean in the morning, or waking up to a drizzling rain. Your heart races.

“You shouldn’t be joking around like that you asshole,” you took a big gulp of the beer, trying to hide your shaking voice. “I’m not looking for anything serious anyway.”

“I’m not,” he whispered, there was a seriousness in his tone. “Who says it should be serious? We’re just two guys getting it on.”

There was a sting in your chest. Nothing serious. You moved your shoulder signaling for Peter to get off. You catch him staring at you, his face growing stubble from being overworked. A few seconds pass of you two just staring at each other. He takes his hand to your warm cheeks.

“You’re so red right now, it’s adorable,” you close your eyes and suck all the air around you. “Can I kiss you? As friends of course.”

You nod, slowly coming closer to his face. Your lips touch, his were soft and warm, the stubble pricking your skin. You run your hands through his hair as the kiss deepens. Your tongue meets his, making you feverish. You gently pull him with you as you lay down on the couch. Peter takes his cardigan off while you loosen your drawstring shorts. You pull his shirt off, tracing your hands on his chest down to his abs. 

“Just two guys getting on,” you whisper. He starts to go down on you, swallowing your head. Your head extends from the pleasure, eyes closed, teeth biting your lip trying to stifle a moan. You tug on his hair, he moans with your sex muffling his sounds. 

He releases your cock with a pop. He stands up from the couch and reaches a hand to you. “Come with me, let me show you something.”

While holding your waist, he guides you to your apartment window. He puts both of your arms on the windowsill, arching your back. He kneels and eats you out, his tongue licking your hole, you went in to cover your mouth to hide your noises. Peter asks you to take them off and how it made him so hard to hear you moan. He fingers you with such preciseness he finds your sensitive areas with ease. 

 Peter unbuckles his jeans and pulls them down with his underwear. You turn around to look at him under the moonlight. A tall man, with lean muscle all over, a faint trail of brown hair leading to his crotch. There you saw his erect cock, it was long and a perfect girth. He strokes it, pre-cum coming off the tip.

A few moments later, you feel him insert his cock lubed and the condom placed. He takes you from the back, leaving messy kisses on your nape. You both moan from fucking each other, Peter knew how to sync your rhythms producing the filthiest whimpers from you. He takes your cock, pumping it as he fucks you. 

“Peter,” your words slurred at this point. “Can we do this again sometime?”

“Of course, fuck, you’re so tight,” he wraps his long arms around your whole body, hugging you while he ruts into you. “Shit, we should've done this years ago.” 

“I’m so close,” you moaned, your cock dripping so much pre. 

“Me too,” Peter curses. He pulls out, you almost curse at him for fucking with you like this when you’re close. He takes you and lifts you to sit on the windowsill. He takes your kegs at his sides to finish you off. He takes you in his arms, fucking you feverishly. You swore people could’ve heard you but you didn’t care, you were fucking the prettiest boy in your life. 

His thrusts become erratic. You sloppily make out as he fucks you. You both moan in each other's mouths as you cum. He takes you down the windowsill to kiss you more. 

“I could’ve fallen from the window,” you said, catching your breath. He laughs, carrying you to the couch. 

You sat on the couch wearing his shirt, he placed his cardigan on his lap while your legs rested in them. You both were gulping some cold water. 

“So, tomorrow?” he said. You nod, bringing your cups to a toast. 

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[yesthefandomfreakblr]

I love that Ares and Gregor are commonly depicted with this Hiccup and Toothless relationship or Percy and Blackjack but like in all reality this sweet goofy 12 year old is being piggy backed by this hulking terrifying fully sentient adult man that has almost zero moral reservations and is feared by almost everyone and for damn good reason. Ares just carries this kid metaphorically and literally and goes along with whatever bullshit they decide on cause. Like. Whatever, sure, we're bros let's do it.

He's a trained soldier who's been to battle and has killed and will do it again. He saw an infant rat pup and was like 'Oh thank fuck it's defenseless, let's just throw it in the river and be done.' And 'Oh shit it's a baby, my dumbass 11 year old bond with a heart of gold will never allow this oh fuck oh shit please no.'

He's ALSO such an attentive, comforting dude who knows how to handle distressed kids (COUGH HENRY COUGH) and really looks out for them and their peace of mind. Bro keeps his word and bro minds his vows religiously and NOT just out of legal obligation. He is above and beyond ride or die. He shares a braincell with a 12 year old New Yorker. If someone shoved the kid Ares wouldn't give two shits about ending their life. He's a huge asshole who can say things that destroy people but never lets Gregor see that side of him because like. He's Gregor's bond now and as a team they don't do that they gotta be nice. He has very few shits to give and he gave them all exclusively to like four or five people.

Ares is a sweety the way a 200lb guard dog is a sweety.

[nkjemisin]

Hi!!! I am so delighted that you have a tumblr!! I see from your pinned post that this sure is the internet, but I am selfishly glad to be able to gush about your prose to you directly.

I just finished The City We Became and then immediately scrambled for The World We Make and read both in the span of two plane rides. I'm a native New Yorker and lost my whole shit at the way you crafted these stories. I loved them so much I have already gotten three more people to read The City We Became and checked out your agent since clearly she has good taste in authors! I hope that last bit isn't weird.

Your voice is so unique and lovely and evocative in super brutal ways (and I know this is intentional so, fair) and I was absolutely riveted! ROMANTIC is how I keep describing your work to people. I love all of it. You're so good. I am absolutely in love with your writing style and I just finished The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms and will try your other series too.

So hi hello. Thank you for sharing your work with the world. Also if you have any recs for fantasy or modern sci-fi I would love to check them out.

LOL, checking out an author's agent is something that usually only aspiring authors do, but it's perfectly legit to do so as a reader who's just looking for other good works! My agent Lucienne Diver indeed has good taste, if I may say so myself. And thank you!