#[ okay but also i owed you this for a while. and with that starter call-- it was time. ]

[orchideae]

It didn't matter whether she'd stood beneath a veil of endless layers to conceal her identity or not, hers was a face unlike any other in her memory, one left unmistakably recognizable after their years of familiarity with one another. The Lady Ningguang, the Tianquan, she was much too out of place, but, Ning. "Get inside," came as promptly as the doors into Yanshang were eased open further, as if to urge the one person many would barely even dare address, inside with certain urgency, though her tone bore no such gravity. For surely neither of them were unaware of the identities of shadows that strayed within the harbor in such dead of night, and yet she knew, whatever reason had brought her to her doorstep, that she could only do it then, when the stars hung far overhead in the hush of nighttide. It was as unprepared as she was for company of any kind, the tea house, close to retiring for the night and finding the lull of slumber (her attire surely enough proof of that) as she'd been. And yet she'd seemed so awake, almost as if she'd been resting for days, as one passed another. "Tea? And if you don't mind locking the door—"

@basbousah // A little starter that I owed!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

my friend last night on discord sent me your steven and mike with reader fic and OOGH MY HEART /POS it has inspired me to pick back up one of my own unfinished fics :] in the midst of that i had a thought strike me and thought i would share with you the idea: platonic grey and shinto (THEY R BESTIES IN MY HEART UR HONOR) fluff with reader fic with the reader helping grey understand shinto with her crazy and wacky little antics around him but acts like a sweet little chaotic angel around reader

Aw I'm glad you both loved it!! Thank you!! Also I adore your art <3

.....

“I don’t get why she wants to be my friend, [y/n]! She’s the devil!!! A DEMON!!!”

“C'mon, Grey. If she craves friendship, then she can’t be all that bad-”

“No, no, no..you..y-you don’t understand. She’s been following me around all day and all night! I can’t get rid of her and the one time I thought I succeeded she freaked out on me and...a-and....ghh..!!!”

“Hey, hey. Breathe. It’s okay.”

Setting your hands on the younger trainer’s shoulders, you looked him in the eyes as you gently helped him calm down. You slowed your breathing, and eventually he did as well to match yours, blinking away his tears.

“I-I’m sorry..” He shuddered as you let him go. And he sighed shakily and hugged himself. "I hate feeling like this.."

“It’s alright.” You smiled in reassurance, feeling Shinto climbing onto your shoulder and nuzzling your cheek affectionately. “Hey, girl. Like feeling taller than me, huh?” With a chuckle, you rubbed her ear.

She silently nodded, continuing her sweet gestures while Grey just glared at her.

That little monster was only putting up a front because you were here.

How dare she act like an innocent little angel who could do no wrong?!

If only you could see how awful she really was....

“Now I’m aware she does some uh..pretty unnerving stuff like-”

“Turning into a giant slimy freak?!!” He suddenly blurted out, only to shrink back as you just looked at him, a little annoyed. “..sorry, I..I shouldn’t have interrupted.”

“It’s okay, but..for starters I don’t think she likes being called a “slimy freak”. So let’s drop the name-calling. I get she frightens you, but I'm sure I wouldn't like to be called a freak every time you see me, right?"

Grey opened his mouth to protest, though he stopped himself, shoulders slumping as he instead nodded in understanding.

He felt like he was back in school again--particularly in detention being reprimanded for his rudeness.

“But I know Shinto has her own flaws, too..” You pointed out.

“..Shin..?” The Hypno-like creature perked up in confusion, wondering why she was being targeted now.

“Yes. When you guys first met, did you know Grey was someone who was trapped inside that game?”

For a moment, her face held a thinking expression, before nodding with a smile.

“So you also must’ve known how scared he was...and that you can't force a friendship on someone if they're scared and don't know where they are, right?”

“.....Shi...no.” Pouting, she shook her head, realizing what her mistake was back then.

At that same moment, you heard your pokedex beep and opened it up to see that she left you a message on her section:

THOUGHT GREY NEEDED FRIEN

SO SHINTO SANG WITH HIM

BUT WHEN GREY CHEATED, SHE GOT MAD :(

“Ah. He probably didn’t realize you weren’t meant to be captured. So he couldn’t have possibly known that was cheating." You explained. "I think...the problem lies in you two not fully understanding each other. So we can work on that and help you guys get along better. Not as trainer and Pokémon, but as friends."

"...ironically, she's helped me out a lot." Grey remarked. "She was the only company I ever had in that game. I-I probably would've gone crazy and never found a way out if it weren't for her. So...I guess I owe you an apology, Shinto." He looked at her, frowning slightly. "I promise not to call you a freak anymore. Let's just...try to be cool with each other from here on out. Whatdya say?"

For a few moments, she stared right back at him in total silence, and it made him nervous that he said something wrong.

'Could I have worded that differently? Does she think I only apologized because of [y/n]?' He began to overthink...as usual.

Then suddenly, she leaped from your shoulder and onto him, hugging him around the neck. "Shin!! Shin!!" She cooed.

"W-Woah hey!!" He freaked out at first, although when he realized she wasn't trying to strangle him, he cautiously hugged her back. A relieved sigh left him after nothing bad happened.

She just wanted a hug. Plain and simple.

"I guess you um..a-accept my apology?" He laughed awkwardly, his eyes shifting to you. "I-Is this good?"

You just smiled at the pair, happy that they were already making progress with their friendship. "Yeah, I think you two will get along just fine."

[virtie333]

O my mistress, do not by any means destroy yourself, for if you live you may yet have good fortune but all the dead are dead alike! ― C.S. Lewis

I knew today was going to be bad mentally, but I had no clue what was in store for me. I'll try and make this short:

Stache was still not herself this morning, so I determined that she would have to go to the vet. Then my truck wouldn't start. Battery (which I just got a new one a month ago!) or starter? I borrowed my brother's car for church and to feed the horses, then called my boss in tears. She was very understanding and told me they would manage without me today. I had the truck towed in and while I waited, did my taxes, only to learn that I OWE for the first time ever. Thanks a lot 'affordable healthcare.' This led me to decide not to go to California this year. My friend's sympathized and agreed and we decided we'd shoot for May the 4th next year.

The good news: Stache is better. She was drinking and peeing and pooping okay, and just before lunch she got out of the bed and stretched like normal. She seems a bit gimpy, so I think she hurt herself and was being a drama queen about it all. Also, they couldn't find anything wrong with my truck except that the connections to the battery were corroded and hadn't been cleaned when the new battery was put it (at a different place). They didn't charge me to clean them, and the truck is starting fine. And that's the problem...

I'm not that lucky. I'm convinced the truck with die on my again. And soon. I hate it. It's not that I don't trust the guy that worked on it; it's that I know mechanics are not omnipotent. So, I'm still stressed and miserable. It's supposed to rain tomorrow (it's super foggy right now) and I won't mind that... as long as it doesn't freeze. Yeah. More anxiety. Why did God make me this way?

Anyway, thank you to all who shared things in my inbox today. It really did make me feel better and distracted me. Now, if I can just sleep and not worry about tomorrow until it gets here.

[queeniecamps]

Wait why don’t we want season 5 anymore what happened or am i missing a joke

to put it VERY short; (here's a link to Kdin's statement which is a great starter, there's a TL;DR in the end)

it turns out a LOT of people in rooster teeth (including the founding members) were being homophobic and transphobic towards Kdin Jenzen, calling her a f*gg*t and coming up with a nickname for ther that allowed them to call her that on camera and such (with people such as MICHEAL JONES (VOICE OF MAX CAMP CAMP) HIMSELF coming up with it (although micheal has apologized privately years ago and apparently was forgiven)

On top of this, RT wasn't paying people for a lot of work, and they were also threatening to replace voice actors (such as Blake Belladonna's VA and Samantha Ireland, the voice of all of the flower scouts)

As well as the fact that apparently, Jordan Cweriz (CO-CREATOR OF CAMP CAMP) was threatening Geordan Whitman (art director and animator for camp camp, as well as Preston Goodplay's original voice actor) with a lot of different things, forcing him to make so many changes to his series, Nomad of Nowhere and basically ruined his own show and it's vision, as well as literally REPLACING his voice for Preston. For years we were lead to believe Geordan left because preston was hard to voice and also creative differences, but it's a LOT worse :( (apparently, Miles Luna (Co-Creator of Camp Camp / voice of David) was one of the few people who actually supported Geordan and his work, and (miles) had left RT on his own a while ago, so I thiiiink he's in the clear, but don't quote me on that

With that and their history of racism, homophobia, transphobia, and other bullshit, I expect RT to shut down by next summer. They are SCREWED and people have had enough of their BS

You can find SO MUCH MORE info on this on twitter, everyday employees (ex employees, animators, voice actors, etc) are coming out with their own statements, some RT ppl are coming out with apologies (like Michael's public apology, Gavin Free's apology, Geoff Ramsey's apology, etc)

This shit is crazy, and I'm so done with RT and their bullshit

I will say, I do still love camp camp, but it's definitely a "separate the art from the company" situation, and I hope Miles boots Jordan off the team and either locks that shit up in a vault away from RT or even sells it to a better company or even reboots it.

I'll still be making content for camp camp, working on my OCs n such the best I can, but my desire for Rooster Teeth to make a new season has died.

I hope that Kdin is doing okay and finds some better work, if RT is smart they'll hopefully pay her back the money she's owed and also give her credit for the work she did

[misfitsandmusings]

Affiliated With: @climatact // @piratebento // @multixroses 💕

Carrd | Memes | PSAs | Wishlist |Interaction Call | Interest Checker | Promo

MOBILE RULES UNDER CUT:

General / Important Rules:

This blog is independent, private, semi-selective, and medium to low activity. IC interactions are limited to mutuals only. I will not follow back if there are no easily accessible rules on your blog or I can't see our muses interacting.

AU, OC, and Crossover friendly, but I'm selective with OCs (an easily accessible about page is a must), and I tend to second-guess myself most and be slowest on OC and crossover content.

NSFW material will be present on this blog. The mun is 25+ and a fan of angst, dark themes, spicy/smut scenarios, and more. Smut will be tagged nsfw and hidden beneath a banner and a read more; other common triggering themes will be tagged appropriately. Minors may interact at their own risk, but note that I will not write any spicy/nsfw material with a mun under the age of 18. Any minors attempting to engage in nsfw material or caught lying about their age will be blocked on sight.

EXTREMELY IMPORTANT PSA: My muse and overall activity are sporadic. Sometimes I reply to things as soon as they come in; other times it may take me weeks. I go wherever the muse takes me, am prone to hyperfixating on threads, and I openly favor interactions with my affiliates (people I frequently chat with OOC!) I rarely respond to my drafts, asks, etc. in the order they came in. I might like or post meme calls even if I owe things. I might send you memes or unprompted things even if I already owe you things. None of this is meant to be hurtful; it's just how my brain works. For the sake of both my mental health and your time, please do not interact if any of these things are a deal-breaker for you.

That said, I like to think I'm a really laid-back RP partner. I'll never rush you for replies, I'm okay with dropped threads, I'm totally fine with (and encourage) you sending me memes or unprompted starters if even if you already owe me things... At the end of the day I'm here to have a good time and hope you are as well. Nobody should feel guilt or make others feel guilt over a hobby. If you're feeling it, DO IT - if you're not, you're not. Full stop, no explanation needed.

How to Interact:

If we're mutuals, feel free to send me memes, IC asks, headcanon prompts/requests, like my starter or meme calls, etc.

I'm also really interested in chatting with my mutuals ooc as well! I know this isn't everyone's favorite, but for me I find it easier to write with people I chat with on a regular basis. I'm generally very shy, but I value this so much I am 100% willing to reach out and be the outgoing one if you're shy or don't know how. You can literally just IM me like "Hi I want to talk but I'm shy!" and I will be like -cracks knuckles- "I GOT THIS."

A note about memes and inbox spam: When I say I welcome inbox spam, I freaking mean it. You can literally send me every prompt on a meme and I will not bat an eye. You can continue sending me memes even if you owe me things or I already owe you things - if the ask box is open and you want to send a thing, do it. As long as you've read "EXTREMELY IMPORTANT PSA" in the section above and are okay with me responding to things in random order or it taking me a while to get to everything, I generally encourage and even dare you to send whatever you feel like sending. To be honest if we’re just starting out I genuinely prefer receiving multiple memes. If you only send one and I don’t get a muse for it right away I’ll feel really bad and get angsty. 😭 So please do not hesitate to send lots and lots of memes!

Shipping Stuff:

The mun of this blog is shipping trash. I'm not only here for ships, but I'm not going to lie, I'm like... 75% here for ships. It's my RP experience and I make no apologies.

Ships are chemistry based and must be discussed beforehand. I will never force a ship or assume you're interested in one even if A ) our muses are together canonically or B ) I have our muses listed as a fave ship. Please don't assume or force a ship on me, either.

There's a "shipping info" section on each of my muse's bio pages in my card listing some of my favorite ships and any ship restrictions for them. I'm firm on my restrictions, but I'm open to exploring additional ships even if they're not listed in my favorites if you've got one you'd like to pitch!

As a general rule of thumb, my muses are portrayed as demisexual and demiromantic. I'm pretty openminded with my ships. I enjoy some toxic dynamics, I'm pretty lenient on age gaps as long as both muses are 18+... I'll add more to this as I think of them but yeah. If you're shy about pitching a ship, feel free to send in an anon ask to see how I'd feel about it.

NSFW memes are open exclusively to people I already ship with. Don't send me spicy stuff unless we've agreed to explore a ship beforehand.

This blog is multi-ship. I don't and will never do exclusives (please don't ask.) I'm more than open to writing the same ship with multiple people so if you see me RPing a ship you'd like to explore already, don't let that stop you from reaching out.

Other Misc. Notes:

Affiliates are people I talk with OOC a lot! I'm always open to more of these, so if we talk regularly and it's something you'd be interested in just be like: "👀 Affiliates?" and I will be like "Affiliates. -nod nod-" (Like, I think you'll know if we have this dynamic? I'm not subtle/shy.)

I LOVE AUs and playing in each other's verses. I love intertwined muses. If you like one of the threads or verses you see me writing with someone else and you think your muse would be interested in playing / adding to that dynamic, PLEASE DO IT I WOULD LOVE IT. I'm interested in exploring multi (2+) player verses/threads as well! I love canon-divergent "What If" scenarios and building entire AUs from the ground up as well as dabbling in each others' pre-existing verses.

[yessir-rightawaysir]

Can't WAIT to see how you mess up your current scheme, or what new way you'll debase yourself just to cling to life a little bit longer.

My current scheme is going along right on schedule, actually. The Sandblasters discovered that the prototype directed magnetic beam I was building them to solve their little nearby legionnaire problem was a dud, and I've kept the working model for myself. Thanks for all the materials, suckers! I've made an entire starter army of robots and it's time to bail.

They'll discover my network of underground tunnels far too late to catch me.

Although, I'd prefer to not cut escapes so close in the future, fetal positioning inside of my ant lion robot while it burrowed out of the city wasn't exactly fun.

I've got a message backlog, I'll answer some of the shorter ones, I've some time right now:

Anonymous asked:

Strange but true- in at least one zone, YOUR first name is 'Julian'. Weird, no?

What is Robotnik's first name there? Is it just Ivo? Does he not have a middle name there? And what the heck is MY middle name there?

On the subject of names, did you know Colin means "whelp"? Cool name, dad, way to pass that on.

One person in my life had the solution of calling me CJ which I actually kind of liked.

Anonymous asked:

Given your reputation in the world, how do you intend to attract others to your cause?

They'll know a good thing when they see it.

Anonymous asked:

So what drew you to go work for your uncle to begin with??

Ironically I wanted to escape military service. Also he seemed okay back then.

Anonymous asked:

If you could find a reformed version of your uncle, would you work for him?

No.

Anonymous asked:

Wow. From being the punching bag of one big fat machinist with anger issues to another. Some things truly ARE constant, huh?

Well, I'm small and there's tons of these people out there. It's ok, I'm faster than them and smarter.

Anonymous asked:

When you used reprogrammed the ultimate annihilator to kill your uncle. Why didn’t you also have it kill the freedom fighters also. That way no one could stop you from ruling Mobius.

Because that sounds incredibly boring to me. Also, it's just funny that they owe their lives to me. Do you think they ever think about that? In the middle of the night, just wake up like "Wow. Pretty wacky!" I hope so. But, I doubt they ever think about me at all.

Anonymous asked:

What would you say is the worst way that you’ve been injured?

I believe I mentioned that time my arm popped off. Factories are dangerous, kids! I've been stabbed, had various bones broken, shot with so so many lasers, been roboticized, but that arm thing was the worst. Having concussions isn't fun either, I would not recommend it.

[serenxtyinsxlence]

[Okay!!! Time to stop being an unmotivated bean and start being a productive bean!!! For all of my new followers, hi hello welcome to this...Whatever this is <3 BUT this message is mainly to inform everyone that I am going to be spending the weekend revamping my verses page along with a few other things! So that is going to be a little bit of a mess and sorta kinda all over the place, but if you have any questions please feel free to reach out and I'll be happy to chat with you! For those of you I still owe responses or starters to, those will be getting done throughout this weekend, and I will also be reposting my starter call for those of you who want one (Regardless of if we current threads or not because I have no self control :>) But the motivation has kicked in full force and I am not going to waste a moment while I have it! Thank you all for being so patient with me, ILoveYou beautiful beans to pieces forehead kisses for all! I will be around in the shadows of productivity so feel free to poke <3]

[aajjks]

TPOL!JK

you nod your head before turning around and pressing a kiss to jungkook’s lips. “have a good day, hun” you whisper against his lips as you continue to rock jia to sleep and jungkook presses a kiss against your head before he’s leaving you with the twins and soon out of the house.

once jia is sound asleep, you put her back in the crib and sleepily walk back to sleep where jaemin is and sleep for another hour before waking jaemin up for school. he goes to an early starter school that starts are preschool to 3rd grade and it’s the same school ji-ae enrolled jungkook in when he was younger.

you go down stairs and make jaemin a bowl of cinnamon oatmeal with sliced apples, sliced bananas, blueberries, and orange juice for breakfast and as he’s eating, you iron his school uniform.

“say aah” you tell jaemin who follows your instructions and does what you’re doing. you allow him to brush his own teeth but you go back over his teeth and floss his teeth too.

after giving jaemin a bubble bath, you get him dressed for school and arrive there by 8:30 on the dot. you walk inside the building and walk with him to his classroom that is doing their usual free-play before they begin the day.

“okay min, be good. daddy will come pick you up today. your lunch is in your backpack kay?”

“okay mommy!! i love you”

“i love you too min”

you give jaemin a kiss to his head and watch his teacher greet your son with all smiles. once jaemin was dropped off, you circle back home to relieve ji-ae and take care of the twins on your own so ji-ae can tend to her endeavors.

you bathe your twins, dress them, and warm up their bottles with freshly pumped breastmilk. you really enjoy being a mother and love the little family you and jungkook created. jin-sun and jia are such happy babies and don’t really cause much problems for you until they’re upset.

you don’t really do much except for take care of the twins which can sometimes be exhausting but you love every minute of it.

“mr. jeon!” his personal assistant yells barging in his office while jungkook is on a call. “s-sorry, but-,”

“no need to introduce me. he knows who i am. right jungkook?” says mr. hwang, tina hwang’s father.

Jungkook is surprised to see his ex-girlfriend’s father here at his workplace, Jungkook nods, well, talking on the phone and he quickly finishes off the call, he tells the personal secretary to leave so he can talk to Mr. Hwang.

It’s not that surprising that he is here right now because they have done business together several times, but.. the last time they saw each other was probably like a year ago. “Hmm Please sit down… to what do I owe this pleasure to?” Jungkook asks the older man, asking him indirectly why he’s here.

and he doesn’t exactly like Tina’s father, because he was really good friends with his father, Jeon Jaekuk.

“is it like something business related?” Jungkook asks, yes, he’s been planning to open another hotel, but this time in Dubai. “or is this regarding my newest hotel project?” Jungkook folds his hands, “but before we get to business, would you like some coffee or any beverage?” He smiles, Today is a packed day, so he’s a little confused as to why he’s really here because he didn’t even make an appointment.

“Seems like it’s something urgent? You didn’t make an appointment so that’s why I’m wondering, Mr Hwang.” He’s waiting for the older man man to speak, he commands his secretary, to bring in some treats and beverages for the two of them.

And he hopes that the old man will hurry this meeting up because he has to visit some sites and then he has to pick up Jaemin in a few hours.

And he also promised you that he would be home early today.

“Next time just make an appointment will you? I’m kind of busy today so I’d appreciate it if you could hurry this up.” Maybe he does sound a little rude, but he takes his time very seriously. And Mr Hwang is more than familiar with jungkooks cold and ruthless nature when it comes to business.

And he cannot wait to go home and be with you and his family already.

Yeah, he’s a little annoyed.

[voidendron]

Catz Shenanigans™️ : 7 Days to Die Addition

in no particular order of events......

-we all spawned like 2km from each other and just all started running in Gham's general direction. our first few nights were spent in a garage. Xero built a little platform in front of it and that's where we spent our first blood moon. ...24 hours early. we thought it would trigger as soon as Day 7 started at midnight, so we were up in the tower with our little starter weapons, then realized we were early ajsdl;kjd. we were Very aware of the actual blood moon the night of the 7th day

-the server was originally set so friendly fire was off. it somehow got turned back on and. uh. Dusty and I were out questing when we discovered that. I ran up to kill a spitter with my sledgehammer, then suddenly got one-shot. I thought the spitter blew up and killed me - buuuut it turned out Dusty shotgunned me in the face. whoops. (we wanted it turned back off at first, but it's actually a pretty fun challenge to try not to kill each other during fights)

-I've kinda ended up the "pick up the newbies" person. so I shove a minibike in my inventory because we've got a lot of them and take off on a motorcycle. it's kinda funny watching the minibike putter along behind

-"THE BIRDS SPIT NOW?????!!!"

-

Glelk: "uuuuhh I'm infected what do I do"

Dusty: "you're still low-level, probably easier to die than waste antibiotics 'cause you won't have the XP penalty yet"

Me: "...can I sledgehammer him"

*cue Glelk flying straight up in the air from a one-shot hammer to the face while Gham and I bust out laughing*

-

-Questing in what we've been calling the mine, but it's obviously some sort of research bunker. Dusty went to kill something, then immediately died. Glelk had accidentally shot him instead of the zombie in front of him

-tbh lots of accidental friendly fire that sends people a km away

-my sworn enemy: heavy hatch trapdoors. I have So much trouble getting up around them when they're above a ladder and have had many a sprained/broken leg from falling off ladders trying to get up top of bunkers

-"there's spikes outside the pit now be careful ...... ow" "did you just walk into spikes YOU placed???"

-"KILLER BIRDS" "I SEE THEM" *furious squawking* *lots of gunshots*

-revenge killings for accidental friendly fire. Gham and Dusty are the main culprits of this one

-

Dusty and I just standing in the garage half AFK. I look at him, look at my hotbar, equip a hammer, smack him in the face with it and run off

Dusty: "did you just punch me????" *chases me down and punches me like four times while cackling*

-

Bone: *using a nailgun to upgrade blocks*

Me: "shoot me"

Bone: *NO HESITATION NAILGUN TO THE FACE*

Me: "...ow."

Bone: *goes back to upgrading like it didn't happen* *pauses* *SPRINTS over to Dusty to also shoot him in the face with it*

-

Most recent blood moon: we built a second watchtower on the opposite corner from the first one. That's where I was most of the attack

...until I fell off and landed in the spike pit that is our trench

broken leg, no way out, close to dead, and zombies were still pouring in. they started beelining right for me

only to....kill themselves on spikes in an attempt to get to me, and those that didn't die to spikes got a magnum to the face

I lasted WAY longer than I had any right to (including MULTIPLE bikers, military, spitters, demolitionists, and irradiated zombies) before a biker finally managed to reach me while I was reloading ajksdl;asjdlk

-

*Dusty and I trying to figure out how to kill zombies from the watchtower when they're at the garage doors under the platform*

Dusty: *places a block frame* *tests to make sure you can't fall through it* *tests to make sure you can still shoot through it*

Dusty: "okay... can we throw an explosive through?" *immediately sets himself on fire with a molatov while I back away*

Dusty: "hmmm...." *tries again and sets himself on fire AGAIN* "ok can't throw things through it good to know"

-

Me: "I bought grenades from the trader" :D

The rest of the group: "..."

-

Gham: *swinging a flaming machete to kill things*

Me: *gets clipped and start bleed as well as set on fire* *panic-swings at the nearest zombie*

Gham: *takes a sledgehammer to the face (collateral damage oops)*

Both: *run tf out of there as I guzzle water to put myself out and juggle bandages so I don't bleed to death*

-

Dusty and I were looking for blue block things that give cobble when harvested, so started snooping around a construction site

found lots of cobble

...then discovered a cave under the site

without a second thought we both bolted forward to explore it, totally ignoring the dozen or so mangled corpses leading farther in

..only to immediately shriek and run the other way as a zombie bear chased us

Me: "run through that door it won't reach us!!"

Bear: *gets stuck in doorway so we can safely kill it*

Me: "btw I had no idea that would actually work"

Dusty: "..."

-

Went out hunting big game with Dusty and Shiba since I'm the main hunter/food prepper of our group but wanted to go after bigger things like bears to get more meat since we were low on food but doing so alone can be incredibly dangerous

Dusty: *kills a mountain lion* "got a bobcat for ya!"

Me: "...bobcat?????"

Dusty: "Just passed a bobcat"

Me: "couger"

Dusty: "there's another bobcat ahead"

Me: *sobbing* "it's not a bobcat"

Me: "Just killed another bobcat. .....GODDAMMIT DUSTY"

Dusty: *cackles*

-

"Where'd Gham go??"

*muffled shooting from across the street*

"ah there she is"

-

there was a video store next to the firehouse that zombies kept somehow getting on the roof of and jumping over our wall from

Dusty got sick of it, grabbed his auger, and collapsed the entire building. I was his watchdog so I could yell at him to get out when it started collapsing over him lmfao

we've been calling it the last blockbuster, and now we're gonna use the plot where it once stood as a greenhouse ajksdl;ajsk

-

*cackling as we purposefully run over zombies with our motorcycles*

-

Dusty: *AFKs in the doorway to the armory*

Me: *can't get past him to get into the room bc of collision* "Let me innnnnnnnn" 😭

Gham: "...I has idea" *murders Dusty* "armory's open!" :D

Dusty, short while later: "how did I die???"

Gham: "you deserved it!!"

Dusty: *sets out on revenge*

-

Dusty and I practically yelling while mining and continuing to repeat ourselves to each other because the augers are so damn loud

we probably sounded ridiculous to the rest of the group aksdl;jaslkd

[planetatlas]

~Locked Out~ j.t.k

Summary: Jeff gets locked out after a mission, and you're the only one available to let him in. Unfortunately, you two hate each other more than anyone else in the mansion.

Content Warnings: Just swearing, it's an enemies to lovers fluff fic. Implied murder, it's Jeff the Killer. Context Clues.

You were sitting on your bed scrolling through Tumblr posts Ben had sent you before he went on a hunt, when your phone started to ring. 'No Caller ID' flashed across your screen. You were hesitant, however Ben installed security measures on your phone so what's the harm in answering? You swiped the call button and said, "Hello?" only to be met with a deep sigh. "Listen, I know I blocked you, and believe me I wish I didn't have to unblock you, but I may or may not be..." he trailed off, and you recognized the scratchy voice of your least favorite person on Earth.

"And tell me why I would ever help you for anything, Jeffery?"

"Okay listen bitch I wouldn't turn to you for help anyway unless you were my last resort."

"I still don't know what you could possibly offer me to get me to help you."

It was silent for a minute before he responded, "I don't have anything to offer. In fact, you don't have any reason to help me, but I'm locked out of the mansion because I just got back from a mission and all of the doors and windows are locked. It's raining hard and I'm already soaked."

That's right, you remembered the crazy fangirls that were prowling the mansion earlier that evening. The proxies locked everything and everyone turned out all types of lighting to deter the girls from believing it was lived in. Everyone stayed in their rooms until the girls gave up and left after spending an hour searching for a way in. "Sorry dude, fangirls were outside but it would've caused a lot of commotion within the town outside the forest if they went missing. We couldn't afford for them to die close to the mansion and have it discovered by anyone else."

You sat and thought for a moment, tuning out whatever bullshit he was rambling about–probably crazy fangirls. You pondered letting him in, before stopping in surprise. Why on Earth would you consider doing anything for him? He was a total asshole who seemed to be extra rude to you compared to the other habitants. You didn't owe him anything, so why were you considering being nice to him? He deserved to sit in the rain, you reasoned with yourself. But to your surprise, you found yourself agreeing, stopping him mid-ramble.

"Okay, give me a minute." He stopped, and before you could hear a reply, you hung up. You slung on a hoodie and some pajama pants before making your way out of your room and down the stairs. You crossed the living room and unlocked the front door. Jeff stood there, soaked and shaking like a dog. He just stared at you in surprise until you snapped him out of it, "You gonna come in or stare at me like a fucking idiot?" He glared before stomping his way inside and up the stairs to his room.

You thought you heard a muttered, 'thank you' but you blew it off. He was a self-centered dick, why would he thank you for anything? Yeah, you're so welcome, you thought as you rolled your eyes, locking the door and making your way back to your room.

~~~

It had been a few weeks since the 'locked out' incident, however you noticed a few subtle changes. For starters, he never blocked you again. You passed by the couch while he was sitting down one day and saw your name in his call list as he scrolled to find Masky's name. He began insulting you a lot more and attempting to be rude more often than normal, however any attempts to snap at you or insult you didn't land as they used to, for he lost the bite in his tone he used to have whenever he spoke to you.

He also began avoiding you and everyone else in general. He spent more time in his room and he was either blasting music that was supposed to come across as his normal heavy stuff but after listening to the lyrics, they sounded more like sad songs. He also paced in his room more often, because you could hear him when you were awake in the late hours of the night. You just continued to blow all of this off, writing it off as him being moody as usual and generally ignoring his existence like normal.

When you'd hang out with Ben, he started acting odd when the topic of Jeff was brought up. He slowly started to attempt to lessen your hate for the paper-faced dickhead and convince you that he wasn't as bad as you thought. You would just narrow your eyes at Ben and at first he dropped it, but he started trying harder the longer it went on.

One night, you were in Ben's room as normal watching him play Resident Evil: Village. You both were in love with Lady D and thought it was funny to fangirl over her together and fight over who loved her more.

After pausing the game to go get snacks, Ben came back in and gave you a funny look after sitting down. "What?" You asked, a little on edge as this was out of his character.

"Why do you hate Jeff so much?"

"What are you on about?"

"You know, ever since you moved in you two have always been at each other's throats."

"Well it's not my fault, he's been a total cunt towards me from the get-go. He's even meaner to me than everyone else, he'd always single me out, insult me when we so much as passed each other, always trying to get in my way. He's even stolen kills from me! What, do you think my hatred isn't justified?"

He sat and thought about your words for a moment, before looking back to you. He looked deep in thought, as if he was trying to pick and choose his words carefully. "I understand why that may have hurt you or made you angry, but have you tried getting to know him a little better? Get past that, albeit sharp, exterior? Did you ever stop to think he was putting up a front?"

You looked at him like he grew a second head before answering, "You're joking right? He even blocked me! How do you expect me to get closer to him when he limits all possible contact?"

"Did you ever even want to get to know him in the first place? Seriously (Y/N), even at the start did you ever have a small desire to get to know him the way you took the time to get to know the rest of us."

At that you paused. Recalling your first few weeks at the mansion, you thought about Jeff. How he acted, how you felt. You remembered feeling intrigued by him, wanting to get closer to him, unraveling the mask he so proudly and stubbornly wore for everyone.

You did want to get closer to him. You even felt slight attraction to him, however his extra cold treatment towards you had hurt you and you found it easier to hate him and throw it back in his face. At this point, hating Jeff was all you knew to do anymore. Showing him kindness in any form was foreign and left a weird taste in your mouth.

You looked Ben in the eyes and realized what he had been working to convince you. He was trying to make you realize you didn't hate him, and you guessed Ben knew before you did that your hatred was just masked hurt. You just gave him a sad smile and said, "I think we should stop here, I'm kind of tired. Goodnight Ben," and before he could reply or grab after you, you walked out of his room and into your own.

~~~

You were on a mission to kill one of the fangirls that had been prowling that night, it had been long enough since she had visited that it was safe to dispose of her before she spread too much information. The other girls had continued to attempt to get close but Slenderman wanted to put distance between their visits to the mansion and their death, so people wouldn't connect it to the mansion.

You were walking back to the mansion and as you broke the treeline, it started pouring. Even worse, it was pouring hard and it was cold. It felt like you were being pelted by icicles and it soaked your clothing quickly.

You sprinted to the front door, expecting the knob to turn and you could be in the safety and comfort of your room. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. The knob didn't give, and you ended up slamming into the door in your rush to get inside. You jiggled the knob a few more times, shoving against the door with your shoulder. It didn't budge.

Irritated, soaked, and freezing, you circled the ground floor, trying every window and the back door. You couldn't get in anywhere. Sighing, you slumped on the porch with your back against the door, you began calling everyone in the mansion. Some went straight to voicemail, some rang for a second before being declined, and some rang the entire way through. No one picked up.

Losing hope, you almost closed your phone and resigned to sleeping on the porch for the night before your eyes caught an unknown number. You immediately knew who it was, as it was the only number you didn't have saved.

Sighing deeply, you tapped on the number and it began to ring. 'Please pick up, please pick up, please pick-' "Hello?" That familiar raspy voice answered, and you mentally cheered to yourself before cringing.

"Hey, Jeff. Remember how I so graciously rescued you from a rainy night on the front porch?" You heard silence for a minute, and almost hung up, beginning to believe he was ignoring you was was going to leave you outside, when you hear a small sigh, before, "One minute." Then the dial-tone signalling he hung up.

You stared at your phone in confusion and offence. Suddenly, you heart the lock clicking and before you could process it, your back hit the floor of the entryway. Jeff stood above you staring down, in nothing but sagging pajama pants.

You started at him for a second before he spoke, "What are you staring at? Come on (Y/N), get inside before you get sick." You just nodded your head and stood up, stepping inside so he could close and lock the door.

You stood in shock, as he turned back around and stared back. "Do I have something on my face?" His words made you snap out of it as you blushed and found the wall the most interesting thing in the room.

You heard him sigh, before he muttered to himself, "I'm too tired for this. I'm probably gonna regret this in the morning," before he looked at you and spoke to you this time, "(Y/N), can we talk?" This left you even more shocked, and somewhat confused.

Nodding, you began to follow him before remembering you were soaked from head to toe. "Do you mind if I change first?" He shook his head and continued to his room while you hurried to your own. Changing into a tank top and pajama pants and towel drying your hair quickly, you made your way to his room.

You opened the door to him sitting on his bed and his head snapped to you as you entered. You shut the door and stood awkwardly as you weren't used to this level of kindness or sincerity from the killer. He rolled his eyes before standing and making his way to you. He stopped and stared you in the eyes, causing you to blush. Scratching his neck, he began to speak.

"(Y/N), do you truly hate me?"

You blinked in surprise and went to tell him how much you hated him, but the words died in your throat. You stared at him as you tried to speak, but words kept failing you. Finally, you sighed, looked down to the floor, then looked back up to him as you steeled your resolve.

"No, I don't hate you. I acted like I did because that was easier than continuing to attempt to be nice to you only to get shut down every time and get my feelings hurt over and over again."

You stared him down as he looked to the ground for a moment, processing your words. When he looked back to you, regret, confusion, frustration, and sadness flashed in his eyes.

"I'm sorry for treating you like that. This may just be the exhaustion causing me to be more honest tonight, but I never really wanted to treat you like that. The way you made me feel confused me, it scared me. I didn't know how to handle it or your kindness so I lashed out instead."

"Eventually, you just started dishing it back so I thought I lost my chance of ever getting to know you. I wanted to get closer to you, but every time I tried I choked up and ended up snapping at you. I'm sorry,"

He paused and took a shaky breath in, before breathing it out and giving you sad, regretful eyes before continuing, "After I got locked out, you didn't have to let me in but you did, for no other reason than the kindness of your heart that you've shown to everyone else, and I just couldn't stop thinking about it. I wondered why you bothered to help me when I've been so rude to you, and it messed with my head, so I pushed you away harder, but I couldn't keep it up."

He spoke with such certainty and regret you actually began to believe it. Throughout the weeks since the first incident, when he got locked out, you remembered all of the little things that chipped away at your resolve but it made you feel weak, you felt vulnerable for letting little things play with your emotions, so you just denied them harder than before.

However, standing here in front of Jeff, who was supposed to be your enemy, you realized that wasn't the case. You weren't being delusional, the little things actually meant something. When the fact that he felt the same as you had finally set in, you just widened your eyes before staring at him in shock. He looked worried, scared almost, before asking you if you were upset with him.

"I can understand if you don't understand how I feel or feel the same way, I can't expect you to after the way I treated you. I just needed to get this off my chest before–" He was cut off as you pounced on him in a hug. You buried your head in his neck and hugged him like your life depended on it, silently telling him to stop talking. He froze and stiffened up, before slowly relaxing and circling his arms around you, burying his face into your hair.

You two stood like that for a while, silent and taking comfort in the other's presence. You pulled away first, giving him a gentle smile that told him everything he needed to know.

You believed it was safe to say it was going to be a lot calmer and friendlier between you two.

(A/N): This is my first ever fanfic??? I write essays not fanfiction but that changes now I guess. He may be OOC but it's fluff and if I were to write him how I actually thought he'd be this would turn into dark angst so fast. Constructive criticism appreciated, hate comments will be deleted lmao. You can also leave requests, I'm open to many fandoms however I may not be able to write some as well as I can others.

[jiminrings]

Hey bb! First of all, let me just tell u how much I love your writing! You're fabulous, love. Don't ever doubt yourself. Secondly, I wanted to know if u could do a college professor! Jungkook and pretty student reader where Jk is absolutely enamoured by her.. (also, with a bit of the good ol smut🤭) It's a-okay if u can't tho! Just know that you're appreciated!❤️

the probability of us

pairing: jungkook x y/n

wordcount: 6k

glimpse: jungkook’s the son of the university’s president, y/n’s cardigan is everyone’s favorite, and adjacent walls mean shared victories. 

notes: there’s something so warm about this request that it made me write it as an actual fic and not a bullet one!!! i did alter it a little bit but i was genuinely so happy writing this so thank you sO much for this babe :D // gif from pinterest!

Jungkook, in his better and most definitely unbiased judgement, thinks he knows enough about you.

He knows you well enough to have noticed your patterns and habits with almost everything in between. They were predictable for the most part, and that was partly because he takes pride in being observational, but you manage to unintentionally throw him a curveball every now and then that makes him smile.

You always come into class when there’s atleast fifteen people in it and Jungkook wonders if you know it in the back of your head or if you just sneak a peek at the room every now and then. He’s not keen on being early to classes, and on the three straight occasions his dad left something in the classroom from the day before and got him to retrieve it for him, you were already there.

You’re fixated and practically attached to your knitted cardigan, seemingly having no problem wearing the same outfit for days straight — something so both adorable and visibly heart-racing when it’s almost always a tank top underneath that’s on the lower scoop, and a rotation of pants and sweats that sometimes feel so misplaced with your cardigan that it matches.

Jungkook’s found out that you probably wear atleast three rings on a daily basis, and that only took him two days to figure out because you’d exit the classroom with slight marks and indentations on your cheeks or on your jaw. Whether it’s to being sleepy, being bored, or being focused is something he has yet to discern — but yeah, he looks at you with his eyes silently when the class is dismissed, wondering if he’d see the same Pandora tiara ring mark on your cheek, or this time from a signet ring you sported more often.

He’s eight weeks in doing whatever this is. Whatever having the definition of him trailing behind his dad, a back and forth between his classes and his office, then them eating out for lunch break.

Sometimes, Jungkook forgets that his dad’s the president of this very university. 

He’s only really known him as dad and he’s grateful for that, and the only times he’d see his father as the educator he was with the fancy doctorate degree was whenever Jungkook’s been a little lacking in his studies as a child up until high school. His mom, a doctor, would be on duty for nights and at home for mornings so that’d be the window she’d teach him the alphabet and addition with the carrying, something that eight-year old him would tear up just at the mention of.

His dad would just sit beside him in a very calm manor, take out two notebooks for one of them each, and make reviewers. Jungkook writes down what he knows and what his dad tells him to, highlights the key terms, and for some totally odd reason, making his own reviewers saved him from failing altogether and become an honor student with little help from his parents and most especially his dad.

It humors him that people are so rigid and intimidated by his dad, and he knows that not everyone would believe that this is the same guy that taught him how to give someone a proper wet willy. Jungkook sees people left and right going out of their way to greet him and pay their courtesies, stifling in a giggle that his dad also fights the need to laugh.

He loves and looks up to his dad, feeling a lot more thankful that he has a healthy relationship with his parents as an only child. Jungkook feels he owes that much to his dad that he took education for his college course, despite his blatant lack of interest for it.

And here he is — a senior at another college his dad’s not the professor of, studying a degree that he’s not gonna practice, and shadowing his father for eight weeks while he goes and teach for the “experience” as his dad calls it.

This has got to be a little ethically questionable, but that’s okay. Jungkook takes some comfort knowing that his dad’s the boss and he could just sit in a chair, pretending to absorb his lessons. In fact, he doesn’t even know why his dad opts to teach still even if he’s well high up in that ladder, the only explanation being that his father just really really likes teaching and not just be moving between airconditioned offices and meeting rooms all the time. And if that was enough, his dad just had to teach two classes to which Jungkook needs to accompany him in both — Statistics and English Literature.

Jungkook has a memory of stone that’s probably of the same kind the Code of Hammurabi was inscribed in (because he just swears his memory started way earlier than the age of four), because he practically knows everyone in each of his dad’s classes.

Eight weeks in. He’s only known that long.

But Jungkook knows for a fact that you’re never late — that much he knows. He refuses to believe that you’re actually gonna be late to class. 

His dad comes in early and normally, he sits by his chair just when he’s a minute away from starting class. For some odd push today, he felt the need to enter the room with his dad and be early for once; but for the one time that he did this, you weren’t around for it.

You’re late, and you’re never late, and you’re throwing him a curveball, but something tells him in his gut that this just wasn’t something you pull out of your cardigan sleeve to confuse him.

You’re confusing.

You’re never usually confusing.

He visibly straightens in his seat when you enter the room with a sense of complacency and without the need to rush, the class only in the quieting down stages before the lesson begins when you walked in.

Mr. Jeon’s flickered to the entrance briefly, his tinkering with the HDMI cord continuing nonetheless. “Kook,” he just barely manages to get out because he’s already standing up from his seat, nimble fingers grabbing a slip from his desk that makes his dad perplexed.

Jungkook walks all the way to you at the back of the class, holding out the late slip to you a little too eagerly as it seems, and you can’t help but feel confused and irritated at the same time with how you started your morning.

For starters, coffee was spilled on your cardigan from the night before, and soaking it overnight in a mix of detergent, softener, and the tiniest bit of bleach wasn’t enough to completely rub the stain off — which meant you had to get up extra early to have it dry-cleaned (the staff looked at you a bit weirdly) and head off to where you needed to be, in a rush.

“But I’m not late though.”

You murmur as you peer up at him, refusing to even take the slip in between Jungkook’s fingers. He turns impatient, even more-so at your retort that honestly sounded genuine, that he settles on dropping it down your desk.

“You are, Y/N.” He says as convictedly as he can, only having to glance sideways briefly to your nosy seatmate to keep him out of a conversation he clearly isn’t a part of, and you make a note in your head to apologize to Jimin who gets scared easily, especially by the president’s son.

As if to prove his point, Jungkook rolls the sleeve of his bomber jacket in the slightest, enough for you to see a glimpse of his flashy gold Rolex in an attempt to tell you the time, one you couldn’t decipher because it was analog and your eyesight’s not that quick-witted nor clear.

“It’s three minutes before the start of the class,” you make it a point to outstretch your forearm, one that isn’t covered by your cardigan as he now realizes, your silver and digital Casio telling him that it’s 9:57, indeed three minutes away from the start of his dad’s class.

He barely even blinks before he adjusts himself to stand between your stretched legs so he could hold your arm and adjust your goddamn watch to be set four minutes later, his movements done so quickly that you straighten your back to the seat.

Jimin pretends he’s looking away, but deep down you already know that he’s gonna ambush you with questions as soon as Jungkook leaves.

“See that? You’re late,” he hums contentedly, pushing the late slip towards you and stands by himself with his hands across his chest, all-knowing that he wouldn’t leave not until you comply with his stupid request for a late slip.

His dad sees the interaction unfold from a distance, still confused but somehow amused, and a curious smile appears on his face as he now has something else to bring up on the dinner table later.

After all, he only called out to his son to tell him that they should go pick up a few groceries over lunch break — not to give you a late slip.

Jungkook collects the piece of paper from you wordlessly, letting his hand linger for the briefest moment but you pay him no mind, too occupied to looking at your left and gesturing for Jimin to scoot closer.

Something’s wrong.

His instincts are not exactly the most accurate but after all, it does account for something. He’s not the best at reading people when they’re indifferent, and normally you’re never indifferent to him. 

He decides to lay low at that, sitting back on his chair and only twirling the slip in between his fingers and not once setting it down on the desk, preventing himself to look at it.

It’s only when his dad calls him to do a summary and explain to the class about his lesson’s breakdown, and he turns stern when he crushes the paper within his palm for the sake of being indiscreet that he totally wasn’t fiddling with paper for an hour and a half.

Jungkook returns and that’s when his dad starts giving out final reminders for their next meeting, straightening it out as much as he could until he can see your messy handwriting more than he could see the creases.

Tutored Hwang Hyunjin; state quizbee next week.

And why, exactly?

As far as he knows, Hyunjin’s the faculty’s favorite because he was such an intelligent student. He might be the favorite of his dad but he’s not entirely sure because his dad says he doesn’t like playing favorites, but he seems to think so nonetheless. If the guy who’s in the line-up for summa cum laude is asking help for a mere quizbee, what exactly is it for?

You’re an honor student, sure. In the dean’s list and in the running for cum laude, but you’ve said it yourself that you’re no Hyunjin and in verbatim, anyone who takes education as seriously as he does needs a hug and an emotional support system. Do you see yourself doing all the extra credits when you already have the highest average on all of them?

Did you hug him?

Jungkook scoffs to where his mind is running, a little dejected as he ponders on it even more as he stands next to his dad’s desk, nodding curtly at the students who bid him goodbye.

He’s extra quick to stepping up when it’s you who passes him, hands on his pocket as he asks under his breath.

“We cool?”

He tries to search for a hint of distaste in your face and he’s almost disappointed to find none, a genuine small smile on as you reply and come out the door without so much of a look back at him.

“‘Course we are, Mr. Jeon.”

... \ ( ♡ ) / ...

“What’s up with you?”

Jungkook utters the moment the door of your apartment swings open. It was straight to the point, really. No buttering up to you and no unnecessary bullshit before he drops the question that’s been plaguing his mind the whole day.

You had only been brushing your teeth when you hear a series of crisp and heavy knocks that led you to think that your neighbor Hoseok next-door has finally screwed up the pooch completely, and accidentally set his kitchen on fire with the cookie batter he’s been doing a series of trial and error with for a dozen times already.

Oh.

It’s only Jungkook, then.

He doesn’t look the slightest bit concerned being out in the hallway that gave everyone an opportunity to see him. Frankly, everyone who’s set foot to the president’s office, which is everyone, could tell who he is simply by looking at the few hundred picture frames Mr. Jeon has on his desk. 

He’s not concerned and he doesn’t have the gall to be concerned either, because as much as he knows that although underneath his dad’s section, the housing section of the college wasn’t under his close supervision. Besides that, he finds that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with this.

Jungkook only looks up to you for a few seconds, wide-eyed with your toothbrush in your mouth, and decides to let himself in.

This being yours and Jungkook’s interactions for the past eight weeks. There’s not a label to it, but it goes along the lines of the occasional fuck, and then the ranting about each other’s days, and binge-watching that either ends up as hook-up, or trying to pick up new hobbies the other’s just suggested, or whatever’s playing is actually playing and the two of you just watch, your head laid on his lap and his hand brushing your hair.

Yeah, that one. Whatever that’s called — that’s what you and Jungkook are.

It’s been painfully obvious to your tight knit of friends, namely only being Jimin and Hoseok, that those things practically yielded to the commitment of him being something that starts with boy and ends with a friend, no spaces in between and all in one word.

You blink away your internal monologue, remembering that you need to spit before replying to his question that he’s asked you point-blank two seconds ago.

“You saw me in class today.”

That one couldn’t be anymore obvious and he huffs at that, once again going on a grumpy fit of frustration while he lies on your bed upright, arms across his chest. “Off,” you swat his leg immediately, making him haphazardly throw away his shoes if he want to keep being frustrated with you.

That’s the exact bit though. Regardless if you forced him to take off his shoes while he’s on your bed, he’d be frustrated at you regardless. He doesn’t know why he’s frustrated with you in the first place and that just makes him stressed even more.

The realization hits him that Jungkook doesn’t really know why he’s so pressed about you, his tone considerably softening because now he feels a little smaller under your curious gaze.

“Yeah, yeah. I clearly know that. I, uh, I meant outside of class.”

Normally, he’d find your avoidance of things actually endearing because you seemed to worm your way out of any situation you just deem to be unrelated to you — but for the first time, he doesn’t know if you’re avoiding his question. If this was still your passive-aggressiveness or genuineness showing its head right now.

“You’re starting to sound like a professor, y’know,” you note with intrigue, relishing to how Jungkook lying on your bed and looking at you under such intensity seems normal to you at this point and at this moment. “A professor hanging out with his student outside of class, in her dorm, and on a weekday.”

The comment you add was supposed to be humorous but you find it rather odd now having said it out loud, the realization dawning on you that whatever this is, is just too ambiguous and vague that you’d never wanted something so specific in your lifetime.

“Just trying to appease dad. Do I look like I have the patience to teach a class, better yet show up?”

That’d be the actual bane of him.

Don’t get him wrong, professors must be so cool and patient with their workload and stuff, but holy fucking shit does he hate it for himself. He means no disrespect to his dad but he honestly can’t see himself doing what he does, even for a fraction of his life willingly.

You sort of envy him for the upbringing he has and the wholesome and healthy relationship he has with his family that you wouldn’t mind telling people all about. Not everyone expects Jungkook to be as family-oriented as he looks, and the little nugget of information he made you privy too puts a gentle smile of your face.

“You do have the patience to ask me if I’m okay though.”

It’s a question between reeling yourself in and putting yourself out there more, plopping to sit on the edge of your bed as you try to put lotion on your legs all the way down to your heel.

Jungkook finds it normal to see you putting lotion on and zit cream on your face, and he doesn’t question it for one second.

That doesn’t automatically mean that he’s gonna address it though.

“Well, baby, are y’okay?” he crawls the short distance from you, putting half of his body weight as he slings himself on your shoulders from behind, lips brushing against your ear as he pulls you tighter.

“Mhmmm.”

He finds it that as much as he pulls you tighter, you grow a bit more distant. You’re there with him but your mind isn’t, perhaps lost on the lotion that only adds into your scent that seems engraved in his mind nowadays.

Jungkook does as much as to tug a sleeve of your shirt to expose the slightest bit of your shoulder blades, pressing wet gentle kisses that leaves you, surprisingly, unfazed.

You make no move nor action, just continuing on rubbing your arms with your hands and him taking the momentary act of silence to look around your room, seeing your textbooks piled neatly on your desk with your lamp on.

“Long night?” 

He asks and not a second later do you hum in confirmation, making him roll his eyes and his stomach churn, but it probably just has something to do with a heartburn that’s beginning to form because the ache’s spreading to his chest.

It’s got to be heartburn, right?

“Alright. Didn’t have to answer me too quick just so you can kick me out.”

He mutters underneath his breath a little hurt, taking your responses as his cue to leave. His flair for what you think is the dramatics makes you roll your eyes and slap his thigh, following him out on the way to the door.

Jungkook’s fazed because he doesn’t exactly know the essential purpose plus his expected outcome of this five-minute visit. He doesn’t have a clue, but dropping to your apartment unannounced and seeing you for just even five minutes, even if he doesn’t know why, doesn’t seem wrong.

What is wrong, is that you’d normally kiss him goodbye.

This time, you don’t.

... \ ( ♡ ) / ...

Jungkook’s gut tells him to come early to class, even telling his dad that he’d come down there by himself so he could scope out his class like the great son that he is, and he does exactly that.

Some of the early-birds are pleasantly surprised to see him there, early and alone without Dr. Jeon, sitting on his usual chair.

This setting’s odd for him and as much as he wants to leave, he doesn’t feel the need to. He doesn’t really care if he’s intimidating the students because after all, that’s not the reason why he’s here. In fact, he’s aware that he seems to be quite the talk of the campus, the verdict being half and half if he was as fun, easygoing, yet stern like his father — or if he’s something else entirely. Either way, none of them could catch on to the fact besides you that he’s not here out of passion, but rather obligation.

There’s less than thirty students in the room but Jungkook could just feel it at the back of his spine that you’re gonna walk through the door soon enough. You’ve got to be, right? Jungkook stands by himself near the door, practically barricading the door with how he’s built.

This familiar guy he can’t put a name to is walking through the door carelessly, eyes completely fixed on his phone that his shoulder’s barreling into Jungkook’s.

“Oh hey dude, what’s up?”

The guy in question barely even looks up for a second, a meek smile on his face before turning to his phone again and just staying there by the door, a character paused to block it all for a fucking text as what it seems.

Jungkook barely needs a second to look at him eye to eye; tall, pale, long blonde hair, and smooth pronounced features.

Hwang Hyunjin.

He’s only seen him in passing but never on this scale, his first instinct being straightening his back. They’re roughly the same height, Jungkook shoving his observation to the back of his head that Hyunjin’s only a millimeter higher than him.

He’s probably the only one applying pressure to this scenario, thick brows furrowing as he almost grimaces looking at the younger guy in front of him.

“Are you in this class?”

What?

Hyunjin’s confused to say the least, not only because this random dude he bumped into is suddenly making conversation with him, but because someone’s actually questioning about his presence here.

He lowers his phone, putting a pause to his heated exchange of which installment of this series they’re watching this, all in the favor for staring at this guy who’s cowling at him.

“... Yes?”

His answer even sounds unsure, Jungkook’s questioning raise of his brows prompting him to explain.

Hyunjin doesn’t even know why he feels compelled to explain but he does it nonetheless. “They say I could sit in this class. Some topics would show up in the quizbee next week.”

That’s just grand.

Before Jungkook can simmer in his irritation even more, his dad slips through the door by holding his shoulders in place, looking between the two of them briefly before walking to his desk.

“Kook? Thought you’d open up the lesson without me.”

Blondie tilts his gaze, eyes narrowing as he tries to scan a Kook in his brain’s directory and why it sounds so fond coming from Dr. Jeon.

“Mmmm, sorry dad.”

Jungkook emphasizes a little more than needed, turning to him and sending him a half-hearted grin while unbeknownst to him, Hyunjin pales and is having a breakdown and a half.

Did he really just accidentally bump into the college president’s son? Is he gonna be expelled now?

Jungkook’s oblivious to the inner turmoil that’s unfolding in the guy in front of him, crossing his arms before looking at his dad once more.

“Is he allowed here?” 

He questions sharply like a toddler who’s just seen an inconspicuous man by the swing, his cheeks rounding with his lips pursed.

His dad’s really confused because this is the most intrigue he’s seen Jungkook inhibit for the whole eight weeks.

Of course his dad knows; he’s more than aware that his son has literally no interest in being a professor, and honestly speaking, he’s not even mad at that. He’a outsmarted him on this one and just went along with the lengths of hi son trying to impress him, falling into this eight-week routine of them bonding together with little practice teaching, yet Jungkook still wonders where he got his wit from.

He looks back and forth between Jungkook and Hyunjin, perplexed because he’s pretty sure that the two of them don’t know each other and that doesn’t explain the tension lingering.

“Hyunjin? Yeah. President’s lister, right?”

Hyunjin grins and chuckles at that, bowing slightly as he just passes Jungkook that appalls the latter.

“You put me there, sir.”

Jungkook mocks him under his breath, not going unnoticed by his dad who just chuckles all the same. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” he lies right out of his teeth, sitting on his chair and spreading his legs until his dad nudges him to be atleast decent because he wants the students to focus on his presentation and not his son’s crotch.

He feels cursed having such clear vision because even when the lights are dim, Jungkook still finds his gaze looking for you out of habit. Cursed for seeing Hyunjin sit on the other side of you and suddenly he wishes that this would be the time that Jimin interferes.

He’s unsure if you’re making him confused or he’s confusing himself, but the way his head feels like splitting just by thinking about you and what he could’ve done wrong tells him that he should be definite.

“Would you mind wrapping up the lesson, Mr. Jeon?” his dad asks outloud and for any other context, they’d share identical smiles on how they should be professional towards each other (as suggested by his dad) during class.

“Not at all, Dr. Jeon.”

God, he’s so oblivious to see how he has everyone gravitating towards him that it’s actually endearing. You sitting all the way up gives you a front-row seat to see how everyone sits up a little straighter and how heads follow his every move.

Jungkook has everyone wrapped around his finger and he doesn’t even know — you’re everyone; he can’t know.

He steps up to the plate and the natural dominance and hold he has on everyone broke through, a lesson about statistics never being this intense and a large majority of the people would really stay for another hour and a half if it’s Jungkook who’s teaching.

He’s so absorbed into summarizing as a way of destressing that he ended up giving perhaps one of the best makeshift lectures ever, his dad positively awed and ending up even more confused.

Jungkook’s coming down from his lecture high, nervously fiddling with his fingers as his dad gives the final reminders. What doesn’t help is also you coming out of the classroom with Hyunjin in tow, wearing your cardigan, and that’s what considerably sets him off.

Suddenly, he now decides that your cardigan is the ugliest and most disgusting piece of clothing he’s ever seen in his life. It’s the furthest thing from adorable, and the nearest thing into being set on fire.

You still smell sweet and homey when you’re nearing him, and the realization that your cardigan’s tainted by the smell of you and soon enough, Hyunjin will — it hits Jungkook too hard that he mutters under his breath, his jaw lax from being clenched.

“If you have a problem with me, just tell me about it.” 

He can’t find the will in himself to care whether or not Hyunjin’s gone on without you and is waiting for you by the corridor, or that his dad’s arranging his shelf and could be possibly listening.

“I don’t,” your face reflects the same thing as your answer, devoid of any uncertainty that you have a problem with him.

“You don’t?” he prods further even if he knows that asking the second time wouldn’t even help.

“I don’t. Do you?” 

There’s no malice in your tone. It’s the same gentleness laced with mischief underneath, head tilting in question.

That’s when he narrows his eyes at you, always knowing how to play your cards right without him knowing.

“With you or with myself?”

You shrug carelessly, an automatic giggle tumbling out of your lips that it bothers you too because you shouldn’t be okay with pulling yourself away from Jungkook, and the fact that it could be because you made peace long enough that the two of you will never be more is something to blame.

“You tell me, Mr. Jeon.” 

He’s never hated his family name more and the formality preceding it than now. In reality, he’s just a year older than most of you in this class and the last time he’s checked, no one calls their senior, despite being from another university, like that.

Everyone assumed that he should be called with respect because after all, they’re probably looking at the future of this institution anyways. 

Stable breaths aren’t enough and Jungkook seems to despise the way your slightest change towards him affects him the most, and his pride over not reaching out to your first has long been gone since.

He figures that this is just your way of detaching from him because his eight weeks are almost up, and that he should be totally fine with it because after all it’s only been eight weeks.

He can’t see another eight weeks of you pulling out from him, and even worse, eight weeks without you.

“We’re not cool.”

Jungkook says as soon as you open your door, not waiting for you to gesture him to come in. In any other situation, he’d find you adorable having traded your contacts for glasses, and absolutely sexy if his blood’s rushing elsewhere besides his cheeks. There’s no introduction of asking about your day nor catching you off-guard with a kiss either. 

It’s him going straight to your bed and lying upright, looking at you somberly that you feel sorry you’ve been establishing this change in the first place.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

His question is a complete 180 from his voice that’s been gravelly since morning, sincerity underneath the rough edges.

You shake your head no, a signal that there’s absolutely nothing wrong and you don’t have anything to tell him about.

“Are you sure?”

He looks at you with wide reassuring eyes just begging for anything, atleast something, the only time that he wishes there’s something wrong going on so he could chalk it up to that instead of facing this shift with you blindly and aimlessly. 

You’re wordlessly climbing up on bed too, making him automatically scoot over to his side of your bed when he stays overnight, instant warmth welcoming you just by having your shoulders touch with him. It’s a head nod of yes, I’m sure that there’s nothing wrong with your eyes closed. 

Being beside him is the equivalent of all the comfortable nights you’ve slept. Jungkook’s the ultimate compilation and the most expensive goodie box of warm hugs and warm tea that tasted familiar instead of incredibly earthy. He’s white noise and eight-hour loops of rainfall against your windows and humidifier-goodness of sleep that you take indulgence and warmth in.

Jungkook’s in another realm of thought when he almost snaps at you because your roles have been reversed and it’s him who’s doting over you.

“Are you usually this non-committal?”

You’re always warm with a cherry on top when you talk to Jungkook, and just only two days of you giving him timid replies has him asking you if you’re the opposite of the adjective that people most commonly attached to you.

“I think we both know best that I’m loyal.”

You are. 

It’s a word that’s almost always attached to your name. You’ve never really sustained a large group of close friends, and it wasn’t needed, but Jungkook finds it funny that you’re oblivious to how people look at you.

He’s well-acquainted with what goes around, and the only things that go around about you was that you’ve touched them in one way or another. You’re the most loyal friend Jimin has because you’ve stuck with him even if he’s spilled his guts on your bathroom floor, missing the mark of your toilet bowl. You gave up your bed for him and tucked him in even if he was still at risk of throwing up because he just couldn’t stop, and made him breakfast the next morning. You’ve only known each other for three days.

Hoseok considers you his most loyal neighbor slash friend ever, because you let him have a go at your pantry even if you knew at the back of your head that he’d screw up something in his recipe one way or another. Even started buying extra ingredients whenever he needs them, and him purposefully forgetting that he has brown sugar at the back of his cabinet.

You are loyal, and that’s what he sometimes hates about you too because it makes you more vulnerable. A little too easy to trample on. A little too easy to have you cheering for someone from the bleachers when they’re still on the bench.

Jungkook wonders if you’re loyal to him too, and if you were (which he’s sure of, and there’s no denying it), would you still be even if he feels like the two of you are growing apart?

“Then why do I feel that-“

He sighs in exasperation, head turning to face you and he’s greeted with your finger outstretched, digging in to where his dimple would appear.

He could look at you properly this time because he’s not in a rush asking if you’re okay. Eyes glazed looking up at him underneath your glasses, scrunched nose with the cutest smile and all that he wants this to never stop.

“Hey.”

You whisper in a rush all of a sudden, a toothy grin fading steadily when your thumb comes to rest on his cheek, whole hand soon pressed to it whole that Jungkook finds himself leaning.

“I’m in love with you.”

It comes out of you fluidly; no baited breath and no hesitation at all. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, actually. Not once did you think that you’d ever tell Jungkook you love him in this way, or ever for that matter, but it’s something that materialized out of thin air.

It’s as quick as a passing thought and as stable as a core memory, reiterating what is only a truth instead of a confession.

There’s no sadness in your gaze and no distrust either, but the smile that stretches on your cheeks doesn’t look as giddy.

He’s a little cross-eyed with how close you are, but Jungkook audibly whimpers when you pull away suddenly and out of the bed altogether, picking up your laptop from your table.

You don’t know what you’re doing either, but you could only hope that it looks as natural as it seemed, wanting him to know that your sudden realization that you need to make a twenty-page essay in size 12 font has nothing to do with your profession of love.

“But I know I shouldn’t, and besides, it’s a conflict of interest. Anyway, let’s just end this here now and-...”

“Are you insane?”

Jungkook exclaims in punctuation marks and of deep urgency, looking at you as if you suggested the most ridiculous thing ever after what you’ve just said, which you exactly did.

“Just continue loving me!”

He says it as the most obvious thing ever, his chest feeling an odd sense of relief after having blown up with emotion. He’s a sponge at this point in whatever relationship the two of you have. He’ll take what you can give, but this was something Jungkook would run to hell and back for to not take from you.

“You didn’t even ask if I loved you back! And that’s my honest answer, not something that would appease you when you return the question.”

He looks a little softer around the edges at the moment — arms flailing around and hair bouncing as he keeps moving his head. 

His cheeks are puffed out when he’s angry and his lips are red from trying to get his point across strongly, stammering with what more he could think of in his head.

“It’s not a conflict of interest either! I only shadowed my dad to please him, but we both know that I don’t want to become a professor like him. You just think that it is because you’re up on the seats and I’m down on the podium!” he’s heated and his cheeks are warm and there’s no way it has something to do with your airconditioning.

“It’s a stint. It was a literal eight-week stint for free, because he’s the president for god’s sake — that’s it! I go back to my university in like what, a week? And they don’t even need me passing requirements, because they already know, again, that I’m the son of a university president! Honestly, it’d be stupid of them to.” 

Jungkook feels like he’s gonna pass out with how overwhelmed he is. Too overwhelmed to the point that he doesn’t see you smiling out of the corner of his eye, hand rubbing down the length of his nape to his back.

It’s only then that you realize that he’s rambling and his voice is wavering, concern dripping down from you instead of amused laughter.

“Y/N, please, it’s convenient — more than convenient. I graduate this year, and you next year. The last thing I’d do in my life is grade papers. You know what I want to be? I wanna be-...”

Jungkook’s cut off with a tender kiss on the corner of his mouth that’s grounded him, blinking twice to look at you.

He should really kiss you right now.

“You could’ve condensed that into a single simple sentence,” you snort when you pull away from Jungkook’s hold, sending him a look of faux disappointment to which he whines. “It’s called I love you too, Jungkook.”

He squints at your teasing but reasons just as quick, sneaking in his head underneath your shirt to escape from your teasing and importantly, press a gentle kiss to your chest, then your boobs, and settling to lie down on your stomach as he’s content.

“I was panicked!”

Jungkook’s certain that he loves you, laughing to himself when he heard heavy knocks against your bedroom wall that just conveniently happens to be adjacent to Hoseok’s.

“Fucking finally! I was about to flirt with either of you just so you could cut to the chase and admit it to each other!”

Your laugh is the sweetest thing he’s ever heard, coming out from hiding underneath your shirt and just laying on top of your clothed tummy, hand looking for yours to hold on to.

You’ve been sleepy the entire time, he’s figured. You having switched to your glasses meant you’ve already had your night shower, and only had three hours maximum before succumbing to your bed. You’ve had a long day clearly, and it’s when you’re starting to succumb into sleep right exactly where you are that Jungkook suddenly remembers.

“You know what I want to be? I wanna be-…”

“With you.”

“Mhmm?” you all but mumble, feeling him adjust your head on the pillow while he lays on his, literal weight being lifted off from you.

Jungkook feels even more endeared if that’s any more possible, the tiniest boop to your nose and the softest kiss on your forehead.

“I wanna be with you.”

[teaholder]

People for the most part aren’t saying shit like “uwaaaa simon deserved to die because he was irredeemable!” Literally the whole point was that he could have changed and was given multiple opportunities to, but he chose not to. His death isn’t justified, it’s supposed to be fucked up and sad. Grace literally starts sobbing and holding the ashes of her best friend. She WANTED him to change and he ignored her and uhhhh LITERALLY THREW HER OFF THE TRAIN-

Everyone is aware Simon has trauma. But Grace has trauma too and she improved herself. And the reason that people say “Grace did nothing wrong” is because 97% of Simon fans are racist and misogynistic. Blaming all of his shitty behavior on her, saying his behavior was justified because “Grace lied to him” (never mind the fact that she lied to him because she knew that he would have zero problem KILLING A SIX YEAR OLD-), complaining about how Simon didn’t get redeemed in a show about redemption even though Grace is the protagonist of b3 and the whole season was about her redemption. If anyone says something like “fuck Simon and his white boy problems” it’s because we’re fucking tired of black characters getting shit on because everyone favors the white boy instead. There’s also obvious racist coding on him where he he expects Grace to owe him everything and tell him how to behave

I’ll also say the npd incident on Twitter is shitty as fuck, but it wasn’t a confirmation. An ignorant part of the crew said Simon was a narcissist, got called out, and took it back. It’s a huge stretch to say the season was ableist for killing him. Also anyone with any disorder can be shitty and they aren’t exempt from being called out. You can argue that the killing off of Simon was ableist because it implies that he deserved to die for having npd, but I literally covered that point in the beginning by saying his death was never supposed to be deserved

The last thing I’m gonna say is that like. Do people know they can like an antagonist character without trying to justify their actions??? I personally had fun watching Simon be a bastard and that’s why I liked him. Sometimes a character is traumatized but also a bastard that’s fun to hate. That’s the point of most villains

Sayonara

...okay. with all due respect, anon, not only are you wrong; you are also quite literally proving my point. i'll try to keep this as brief as can be, which if i were honest, might not be very brief.

for starters, most of the people who vehemently hate simon– which really consists of a majority of the fandom, let's be honest– reiterate that his "refusal to change," (ie. his refusal to redeem himself) is why he deserved to die. because if grace changed, learned, and grew as a person, he could have, too; however, his perceived refusal to do so makes him somehow worthy of his demise. this mindset, accompanied with some other things i'll be touching on later, makes it evident that there was ableism written into the show with simon's character. however, we can get to that in due time, since i want to respond to some of the other things you brought up first.

i'm well aware that his death is supposed to be fucked up and sad. that being said, his death can be fucked up and sad while also having ableist ideology embedded within it– the ableism is the problem here. also, if it was meant to be so sad, then why did they demonize him to the extent that they did, and why did the audience celebrate his death? all that being said, i will leave the mentions of the ableism for when i get to where you bring it up.

second of all, saying simon was given multiple opportunities to change ignores the fact that without guidance, some people will not be able to change. without a support system, some people will not be able to change. and don't come in here with "grace guided and supported him!" or "grace doesn't owe him any of that!" as if support isn't something almost everyone needs in order to grow; especially support from a friend. as for my first example, she really didn't guide or support him; not in the way he needed to grow as a person. all of his "opportunities" to change were moments where grace ended up lashing out at him for doing something wrong without explaining to him what he was doing that was wrong. she'd simply end up putting distance between them– making simon think she's going to abandon him just like samantha had– or saying something along the lines of "now's not the time, simon." and scolding him; or, at worst, pulling rank on him. people like simon need love and support to grow as people, and of course you're going to want it from someone you admire and trust. literally the only reason grace came to grow was because she was shown love by this little girl and she saw how much the girl– who she believed to be human at the time– loved this denizen as if she were her own mother. that made her realize she was wrong about the denizens.

the only reason it didn't work like that with simon was due to his previous experiences with samantha. telling himself that the denizens didn't have real emotions was the way he coped with the abandonment. calling them "null"s and saying they don't feel anything made it easier for him to accept that he was abandoned, because that'd mean if they did feel something, then samantha just didn't care for him enough. i know we're on the topic of simon and grace, but it's important to touch on at least one of the reasons why simon's "opportunities" to grow weren't really opportunities, since he's so deep in his maladaptive coping mechanisms and disordered thinking processes that it just doesn't occur to him that tuba was actually capable of loving hazel. even right before he killed tuba, he still believed what he believed despite what he knew about her since he just couldn't wrap his mind around a denizen genuinely caring for a person.

thirdly, on your point of him throwing her off the train– i'm not saying he was in the right to do so, because... no, he obviously wasn't. however, he wasn't initially planning on throwing her off after she saved him. it was her saying she doesn't know why she did it– which, again, i don't blame her for; i understand how she feels there, sometimes your gut tells you to do something, and you just do it– that triggered his paranoia, made him fear that if she doesn't know why she saved him then she could easily betray him again. her breaking his trust made it difficult for him to trust her again, even after she saved his life. the moment he realized what he had done, he started crying and regretted it. yes, he was also laughing, but that's not because he found it entertaining that he had [supposedly] killed his friend.

and, yeah, a lot of simon fans have a chance of being racist and/or misogynistic, that's one thing you got right. and i understand the sentiment of saying she did nothing wrong to combat the bigotry towards her; the only problem is she has done wrong, just as much as simon. she's not perfect, either. acting like she's done nothing wrong completely undermines her growth and development.

moving onto my next point, it does bother me a lot that you said she knew simon would have no problem killing a six year old because that's just... not true. simon never showed malicious intent toward hazel, neither before nor after he learns she's a denizen. grace believed simon would kill hazel because, after he killed tuba (which was initially an order from grace, btw) and she discovered hazel is a denizen, hazel was afraid she was next– which makes sense in the mind of this kid who just lost her parental figure and knows simon's distaste towards denizens. simon values grace's opinions, if she had just sat him down and explained things to him before the point where he started harboring resentment towards her (that is, episode 5 and earlier) then he likely would have listened. would he have a difficult time understanding and accepting it? yes. but he wouldn't have killed hazel. he would try to understand because grace mattered that much to him.

obviously she isn't to blame for [most of] simon's harmful actions, but she was one of the most influential figures in his life and quite literally shaped many of his beliefs and world views, along with samantha. she is not responsible for his actions, but it's important to acknowledge her role in all this, since she had a pretty big one.

also, i'm sorry, but him expecting her to owe him everything– since i assume you mean the line in episode 10, where he said that to grace– was a direct parallel to the first episode of book one where grace saved simon from when his harpoon pack broke. he said he owes her one, and she responded with something along the lines of, "you owe me everything." simon expects her to tell him how to behave because she is not only the leader the the apex, but also because he is quite literally dependant on her; she's the only person his age who he can confide in, since there is absolutely no one else their age around them, they are surrounded by kids several years younger than them.

OKAY. now to the ableism discussion. remember when i said i would try to keep this brief? yeah. apparently there wasn't much i could do to make it brief.

while the canonicity of simon's NPD is semi-subjective (i say "semi" because... it was observably written and coded into his character), the clinical narcissist tweets made by lindsay still massively impacted how the fanbase perceives him and that is undoable. also, it's funny that you say "an ignorant part of the crew" when the whole crew has a massive history of ableism; the fact that they got called out and deleting their tweets does not mean that they took it back and changed for the better. it is not a stretch to say the season was ableist for killing him because it quite literally was.

a while back, a friend of mine had called out lindsay's ableism and owen, you know, the creator of infinity train, blocked them for it. then owen proceeded to delete some tweets where he said things about how sociopaths are incapable of change and he wanted simon to be one of those types of characters in order to show that not everyone on the train is good. owen is literally ableist. the "ignorant parts" of the crew is the whole crew. no one took any statements back, they just tried to sweep everything under the rug. owen saying he wanted to make simon like this and then him dying due to his incapability to change is quite literally proof that ableism was written into his character.

and just one question to you. do you have NPD? like, really, do you? because if you don't, it's awfully strange that you're trying to argue that it's not ableism.

and, finally, yes. people do know that. i know that. i like many villains without justifying their actions. do people know that others are allowed to defend the characters they like who are widely hated and misunderstood by the fandom??? i also had fun watching simon be a bastard, but AS SOMEONE WITH NPD, it fucking irks me how you guys treat him. so sorry that i don't tolerate ableism directed towards my very stigmatized disorder! lmao.

[p---ink]

Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though. 

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems. 

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self) 

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it. 

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.” 

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.” 

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch. 

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared. 

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.” 

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker,  after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath. 

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her. 

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present. 

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered. 

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been. 

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words. 

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep. 

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat. 

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment. 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him. 

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case. 

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her.  “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels,  and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since  Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious. 

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain. 

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car. 

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat. 

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable. 

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification. 

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl. 

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question. 

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted. 

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long. 

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt. 

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained. 

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips. 

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing. 

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all. 

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield. 

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her. 

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?” 

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him. 

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one. 

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.  

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous. 

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked. 

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment. 

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes. 

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.” 

“Say please.” He teased. 

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied. 

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him. 

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin. 

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans. 

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties. 

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat. 

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member. 

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down. 

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her. 

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue. 

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there. 

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin. 

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him.  She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips. 

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her. 

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky. 

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her. 

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core. 

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.  

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried. 

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest,  becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better. 

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole. 

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm. 

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her. 

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her. 

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny. 

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence. 

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue. 

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined. 

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window. 

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure. 

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning. 

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried. 

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button. 

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers. 

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say. 

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone. 

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip. 

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life. 

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair. 

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed. 

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake. 

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came. 

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted. 

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat. 

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high. 

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly.  “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.” 

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them. 

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin. 

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare. 

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her. 

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?”  She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop. 

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.” 

 A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error. 

[adhbabey]

So I went to watch the Music Trailer n i just... No. Nope. Nah. Fuck that.

For starters, the portrayal of the main character is incredibly infantalized. While I do not mind happy go lucky characters, I felt that the portrayal was uncomfortable. If I'm going to be honest, I don't like these kinds of portrayals where the character acts like a little kid. This is a character, not a person with complex emotions n feelings. It's clearly intentional n i I genuinely hate it. When I went to my highschool, they treated a lot of the disabled students like they were children and it made me uncomfortable, but I could never speak out against it at the time because I had no power.

I am an adult who age regresses (bc of trauma) and I'm rather optimistic and bright hearted, but I still have agency, I still have rights, and I'm still an adult. And I won't get into it, but mental age and "functioning" level is incredibly ableist.

Disabled people can stim n still not be infantalized. Disabled people can be nonverbal n still have agency.

Also, people have mentioned how that the movie seems overstimulating, and I have to agree. I love bright colours n stuff, and I do like it for visual art, but there's several reasons why that can be too much for a lot of people. This movie is clearly not accessible.

Also, can we just admit that the response defending this has some real ableist takes. Quite a group of people were defending this movie including those arguing with others calling shit out?

Can I just say that this comment was super condescending like holy shit?

[ID: First commenter at 4 hours ago, cloud lyrics says "@ Aditya shukla idk if you're autistic, but if you're not, please shut up and stop speaking over us." and it has 3 likes.

The second commenter at 4 hours ago and edited, says "@ cloud lyrics okay... Rude Autistic girl. You could say that in a more polite manner." with one like. End ID.]

Like bruh, noone owes you politeness or kindness, especially if you were a dickhead or being ableist. Disabled people owe you nothing.

Patronizing responses like this really show true colours. I hate the entitlement too.

Anyway, this shit really isn't okay and I honestly say, boycott the movie. We dont want this. It's not okay. Stop portraying caricatures n let autistic n disabled people tell their own stories.

Oh, and fuck Autism $peaks.

[yoonpobs]

we don't talk together | myg

pairing: min yoongi x oc

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, growth! exes that remain exes

words: 2, 842

summary: it's hard to say it's over

What they don't tell you about goodbyes is that it isn't the end.

It's far from the closing of a book. Goodbyes are the itch that urges you to pick up an old book from the shelf just to feel what you first felt when you re-read certain parts of a book; the same remorse you felt when a character you grew attached to didn't get the ending they deserved. Or, maybe it was the villain that was misunderstood—your own heart wishing to reach out to the sad soul that couldn't even be recognised when all they do is speak.

But some books will end up dusty, forgotten, tucked away in the corner of your shelf; or in the most drastic of cases: lost.

"The park looks ... different," Yoongi speaks up for a lack of a better conversation starter.

You hum. What would you say? That it wasn't the same from when we used to spend our Spring's blended into Summer's until it got too hot for us to lay in each other's embrace?

It was still too fresh even though it's been nearly a year.

"There are more dogs," You point out the moment a tan pomeranian runs past the two of you, the owner an old couple laughing away under the cherry blossoms.

He nods, fingers stuffed in his trench coat. You note that it's the same one he wore on your anniversary, plans abandoned when there was a mix-up with the reservations until the two of you stumbled across a hidden gem that soon became your go-to date place.

You will yourself to look away so no more memories can resurface. It seems like every part of your life has somehow seamlessly intertwined itself with traces of Yoongi that it was impossible for you to exist as just yourself.

"How are things at the firm?" He asks after the two of you walked side-by-side in complete silence as more and more chatter fill your ears.

"It's ... going," You chuckle dryly.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you, shooting you a brief glance over until the two of you reach a bench. You dare say it's muscle memory that dragged your heavy feet into the direction of the only bench that you've known in the park. The compressed reminder of the initials of your names that you carved as teenagers likely still staining the years old wood. It was meant to be an emblem for wisdom, the ring of growth that meant to be the endgame for the two of you.

You almost laugh in bitterness and how literal the metaphor was.

"Everything okay?"

Yoongi takes the first step to sit on the bench because he always did. Ever the gentlemen when he opened doors for you, let you into the car first, waited until you stepped ahead of him to trail behind like a shield.

The first date, first kiss, first confession.

The first one to decide that it was over.

"My boss is just being sexist, as usual. I thought I'd get used to it after spending two years there but ... there are some things that you just stay unfamiliar, you know?"

It was very like you to speak in double-entendres without intending to. But it was also like Yoongi to pick up on it, especially after years of learning all the best and worst parts of you; he was and probably will be one of the few people in your lives that will always foresee your next move.

The two of you sit a fair distance apart on the bench even if it was a battle for space anyway. You didn't have the liberty to lean into his embrace anymore and he wasn't in the position to say that it was okay for you to breathe, to relax.

"You shouldn't get used to those remarks. There are times where you learn to grow used to constructive criticism but if what he's saying makes you question your worth because of very arbitrary reasons like your gender then that isn't criticism, nor is it constructive. It's bigoted and chauvinistic."

You look down to your thumbs as you fiddle with it, his words comforting you. It was woeful that you still chased validation from him even after learning to be that person to yourself.

"Yeah, I guess."

Then how did you get used to things?

If time didn't make things familiar then what did? Was it not the five years with Yoongi that led you to see him build an empire for himself all the while destroying the relationship that you had? Or was it because he was the person that you thought of doing the most minuscule things?

"By the way," He clears his throat, eyes still set forward, "Namjoon says hi."

You raise an eyebrow, surprised to hear the name of a mutual friend—or more appropriately, friend by association and acquaintance when that link was broken.

"He knows that you're with me?"

Yoongi nods his head.

"I needed to let someone at the studio know and ... well, he's the only one that knew of our situation."

You chuckle bitterly.

Of course. The suggestion of his work only made your heart drop because as much as you wanted to be supportive of him, even after the break-up, the name of his studio or songs only reminded you of the battle that you helplessly lost.

"You can tell him that I'm still a text or phone call away. No need to play messenger," You return.

The atmosphere is more reflective than awkward. You know that the two of you had your pieces to say, your own narrative to tell but neither brave enough to break the calm that you were settled in. It was a nice difference from the way that things ended, and you supposed that you were similar enough to believe in a mirage than the inevitable truth.

But you didn't call him out after six months to sit in silence to walk away with your heart feeling heavier, nor did you invite him out just to remember what it feels like to have him next to you—even in complete silence.

"Would you have really quit?"

This time, you gather all the bravery that you've built over the past few months to ask the question that has been mulling in your mind since the night you decided that it was officially over.

It was a painful break-up. Even if you expected it when Yoongi came home earlier one night with bags under his eyes and his keys that he usually left at the studio because he knew you'd always be home to open the door for him.

"I'm sorry?" He seems taken aback.

You don't blame him. You've always been more passive in dealing with confrontation due to your conflict-averse nature—but that didn't mean you didn't get angry or annoyed—or hurt. But if you learned anything, it was to stop asking yourself questions that you'll never have the answer to.

"Would you really have left the company to save our relationship?"

You chose your words carefully. Instead of saying to be with you, knowing that he lost the love, he had for you somewhere along the way—you point out the one hole that he held on to for the sake of stability. The one thing that was constant in his life with how unpredictable the music industry was.

"Yes."

Somehow, the answer doesn't make you feel better because even with time apart you knew he was lying to save your face.

"You don't owe me anything to lie to my face, Yoongi." You frown.

Yoongi sighs, rubbing his hands across his face as he leaves your statement hanging in the air to mull over his answer.

You prefer the silence that way. It showed that he was at least listening, or cared enough to decide his next set of words. Nothing like how much it pained you to acknowledge the responses you got from him when you were crying were just out of obligation than sincerity.

"No, I wouldn't have."

You nod your head, expectant of the answer but you needed to hear him say it himself rather than drowning yourself in ruminating thoughts of how there was still a semblance of hope that he would've given it up for you, for your relationship—or the life that you were meant to build.

"I wouldn't have asked you to, anyway." You confess.

Yoongi turns his head to look at you and for the first time since you've met at the park, he notices the absence of a necklace around your neck. The necklace that you never took off. He wants to comment on it, ask where it went or if you've pawned it off out of pettiness but he held no remorse towards you. You were tolerant with the break-up even as you sucked in your tears when he knew that it killed you on the inside. Yoongi didn't have the heart in him to ask you.

"Oh."

"You were the one that said you'd quit so we could stay together," You say softly.

Yoongi doesn't respond as he looks back to the night where the two of you sat down to talk about the standing of your relationship. It was a rollercoaster of emotions that started off with an amicable discussion that eventually led to the two of you yelling until you surrendered to your tears and just left the battle completely.

He said a lot of things that night. From things that he's been bottling up for months, to things that he's always wanted to tell you and things that he didn't remotely mean, and things that he's regretted the moment it left his lips.

"I guess I did."

You sigh, leaning back into the bench as you observe a couple walking in front of you, passing your bench as they share an ice cream on a cone; bickering on who'd get the first lick. To anyone, you and Yoongi would've looked just like a couple that has reached a comfortable point in your relationship where intimacy was just sitting next to one another.

But you admit, there was something oddly intimate and heart-breaking about sitting next to someone you've loved with your whole heart and feel nothing but ... weightlessness. Like the burden of your concerns was lifted ever so slightly just being here.

"I wouldn't have made you choose between your relationship or your dream, Yoongi. I would never have done that to you."

Yoongi knew you would never have made him do something as abhorrent as that. You were far too understanding. But you had wanted from him too, that he wasn't willing to provide just yet. He didn't know if it was because of the expiration date to your relationship or because of the stress he was under at work—but he convinced himself that it was you that was asking for too much instead of him compromising too little.

"I ... I know," He whispers, "I'm sorry."

You purse your lips. You try not to let your emotions appear on your sleeve. You were tired of allowing your face to speak before you did. You needed to use the voice you had.

"I loved you so much, Yoongi," You murmur, "I loved you so much that I would have taken anything I could've gotten with you just so I could be with you."

Yoongi stays silent at this.

"I didn't mind if you spent more time at work than at our home. I just wanted to know if I was ever in the picture when you were talking about the future. I know how much you love music and I supported you through every audition and failure ... and to know that I was just—" You swallow, the words still painful to say. But you needed to make your peace with it, "—that I was just someone that would wait for you instead of your partner. That's when I knew that you didn't love me the way I loved you."

Yoongi chokes to speak up but you shake your head.

"No, Yoongi. You loved me, you did. But somewhere along the way you stopped and you just pretended that we were okay even when I was trying my best to fix the seams. I wasn't your girlfriend anymore, I was just someone familiar to you and I didn't deserve to feel that way." You tell him sternly.

Yoongi surrenders to his silence as you take a deep breath to continue.

"Maybe I loved you too much in a way that you couldn't understand."

"_______, don't say that—" His eyes widen when he tries to reach a hand to yours to comfort you, but your body language remains stoic as you keep your hands in your lap.

"—and that's okay Yoongi. I loved you but not in the way you needed. I'm not here to make you feel bad about what I chose to do on my own because it wasn't my fault that I couldn't be what you need." You say sadly, but a small smile on your face as you finally say the words that have been eating at you for months.

"... okay," Yoongi accepts.

"We all have different ways to love and be loved. I loved you and that was enough for you at one point but love isn't all a relationship needs. You loved me too, in your own way and I accepted that but just because it was enough for me doesn't mean it was enough for us." You glance over at him to see him staring at you intently.

"I'm sorry that things turned out this way," Yoongi says softly, eyes gentle.

You wave him off.

"I don't think I'll ever love someone as much as I loved you, though," He confesses, eyes returning to the scene in front of him filled with different colours of life that seemed to look vibrant under the Spring sunset.

You shake your head and chuckle softly.

"You say that now but you'll meet someone one day and you'll remember all the reasons why you love in the first place. And it'll be enough for you, and them."

He shrugs, a small smile itching on his face.

"I really did love you," He says, "But I'm sorry for not being honest with you. I owe you that much of an apology."

"We're not here to forgive or forget, Yoongi," You look at him kindly, "We're here to move on."

He purses his lips and hums, nodding his head.

"I hope you get that promotion at work you were talking about months ago, ______." Yoongi offers, a gentle grin marring his face.

"I did," You shrug.

It feels liberating to have achieved something and only feeling content by acknowledging it yourself. Months ago, you would've hurt at the fact that Yoongi didn't know. But the change you welcomed after the end only showed you that there was a new path for you to walk on.

His eyes widen, but eventually, he chuckles and shakes his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like knew it.

You push yourself off the bench, dusting your hands on your pants as you offer him one last smile before you say goodbye for the second time.

"I hope you find someone who you'll love more than you ever did with me." You tease.

He rolls his eyes.

"Impossible," The grin on his face is easy, and your heart still clenches at the nonchalance, but you don't expect the feeling to go away so easily—nor do you mind. It just shows that you needed to wait and that you were willing to do it.

"Of course you will. You're a musician, Yoongi. You need a muse," You smirk at him as you turn around, a small wave on your hand to say goodbye.

As you walk away and his body gets smaller and smaller from your vision, you turn around to say:

"We don't talk together is a beautiful song."

Yoongi's smile is genuine, and so is his goodbye. A gentle acknowledgment of his hand as he stands up himself, walking to the other direction of where you were headed.

You still had a love for Yoongi, and you suppose you always will. Just like how you would feel pleasant when rediscovering a childhood hobby that triggers a fond memory, or how you love different things in your life in different ways. Whether or not you love someone more than you've ever loved Yoongi isn't your concern, because when love comes in one form, it goes in another.

When you still take the same route you'd usually take with Yoongi after your walks back home, you pass the cafe you used to frequent to see that it's replaced with a new bar. You smile fondly to yourself, shaking your head.

You loved that place.

But eventually, you'll find another cafe with a beautiful interior and a latte to match, and you'll love it too.

[liquid-luck-00]

Lantern!Marinette 3

Part 3

@maribatmarch-2k21 Day 18: Protect

Part 1 *** Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~

It was supposed to be a fun day at the amusement park. Rides, haunted mazes, and not much else to spend a free October day (and night), but what's life without a bit of drama.

"Togetic!" An all too familiar voice called out to her. She turned and saw Wally.

"What's up Pikachu!” She smiled at him as he came up.

"Protect me please?!" he brought out the puppy eyes.

"From?"

"My team."

"They're here?"

"Yes, now hide me please." She rolled her eyes at his antics.

"Fine but I will not get involved, when your cover is in-evidently blown."

"I owe you one."

"Mazes then..."

"Food?!"

"Do you, ever think with your head not just your stomach.

"Come on Togetic."

"Sure Pikachu." They walked off and got in line for one of the many horror mazes that were set up around the park.

After three mazes they decided to do some rides while figuring out what to eat. Once they had their food they sat down, but seeing as the question has been nagging her, she had to ask.

"Why are you hiding from your team?"

"I may have... um..." He quickly turned a shade of red that rivaled his uncle's suit.

"So, it's either Ditto, Kirlia, or Chikorita." She noticed he seemed to go even redder. "Chikorita." She repeated. "Oh my gosh you're crushing on Chikorita!" She squealed.

"She's a spitfire." he sighed dreamily.

"Hm..." she thought as she finished her burger and was drinking her milkshake.

"Whatcha thinking."

"If she's a spitfire she can't be Chikorita."

"What do you have in mind..."

"Quilava."

"Keeping in Gen 3 starters," He mused.

"Yup. And she's got to be quick to deal with you so."

"That sounds like her."

"Okay now that that's settled, we still have more mazes."

"You’re not scared yet. You did run out of one already."

"I wasn't the one who barreled an actor over and tore out of the maze." She slurped her milkshake as she walked away.

"I did not!" He yelled at her back as he jogged towards her.

"Wally there you are!" A voice called out.

"Please," he turned to her and tried to beg but she retaliated with her doe eyes as she continued to drink her milkshake waiting for this show to start.

"We've been looking everywhere for you." The same girl started to talk.

By now the entirety of Wally's team was around them. The youngest, who looked closest to her age, stood next to her, on her right while the oldest of them stood to her left. The others seemed to surround Wally, so she pulled out her phone discreetly and started to record. Riolu, as she recognized after a moment, seemed to question her, so she put her index finger to her lips so he would stay quiet. Not long after did Wally finally notice his two missing teammates.

"Nettie, how could you? You were supposed to protect me."

"Can you?" she held her milkshake to Riolu and started typing. "I said I would help you avoid them, but I wouldn't get involved when you got caught." she finished the message attached the videos and sent it.

"What was that?" he glared at her, as she took back her cup and thanked RioIu.

"Oh nothing."

"How could you?!" He cried, now holding her phone.

She shrugged, walked over, and plucked her phone from his hands. "You guys can keep standing around but I'm going to go hit up some more mazes." she started to walk away.

"I'm sticking with you because I need to see that." Riolu caught up to her. "Robin." He stuck out his hand.

"Marinette," she shook his hand. "You are coming West?"

"Of course, you hit it off with Rob." He grumbled catching up to them, the rest trailing behind.

From there introductions were made and they were able to finish the mazes. Sure, she made one or two jabs at Wally, but it was his fault. If he kept insisting that she liked Robin well if she slipped in that he liked Artemis, then it was his fault.

It wasn't until they were getting ready to leave that her phone rang. Unfortunately, Robin, Artemis, and Zatanna were watching get another 'Wally's Hilarious Action Take' when the call came in. They all froze and looked between her and the phone before handing it over. (A picture of her and Hal after training on Oa, you couldn’t see their suits, but you could see green lanterns flying in the background).

"Hey Dad." she answered.

'Blue do you know anything about something called Miraculous?'

"Magical artifacts that are bound to these mini gods." Now if she didn't have their attention she did now. There was also no doubt that M'gann was broadcasting her dad's responses telepathically.

'Wait these are real?'

"Ya, the lanterns are actually an extension of these jewels."

'How can you just say it like it's nothing?'

"Because it's common knowledge." A sharp pain erupted in her head and voices chattered. "Hey!" she growled, clutching her head, towards M'gann.

'What's wrong?'

"Someone tripped me," she answered. "Can we continue this conversation at home? It's getting crowded."

'Sure. See you soon, Bluebell.'

"See you Papa."

"Mari are you okay?" Wally broke her glare.

"She tried to force herself in my mind." she stated in a hushed tone.

"It doesn't hurt..." Conner started to defend M'gann.

"Not to those who allow it or are untrained." She continued. "Telepathy is not a one-party consent. A person can resist or block telepaths if they are trained or have a natural defense. But if the telepath pushes and tries to force into a protected mind it is painful, a constant barrage."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." M'gann apologized.

"Not many humans can resist telepaths its fine." Before they could process what, she said her phone rang again.

'Change of plans your meeting the team.'

"Um... Kind of late for that."

'What do you mean by that?' She started a video call.

"Say hi?"

"You know I'm not even going to ask. Get to these coordinates." He ended the call.

"Something’s up." Wally was oddly serious.

"You don't say." She led the group to a clearing not far from the park.

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @itsmeevie01 @adrestar @miraculouspenta @vixen-uchiha @animegirlweeb @jumpingjoy82 @thedragonbug @astoriaandroses

Taglist: @anjuschiffer @michaelshadow7779 @maskedpainter @corporeal-terrestrial @slytherinhquinn @greatcatblaze @too0bsessedformyowngood @blackroserelina @laurcad123 @mizzy-pop @schrodingers25