Something to consider when people call this a "conflict" or "war". Semantics matter.

This is a genocide

Spelling Errors - P. P.

MCU!Peter Parker x Fem!reader

summary: the cute barista at your local coffee shop always spells your name wrong.

warnings: none!! pure fluff:)

a/n: ooohhh my god i am obsessed with mcu peter lately so i did something. it’s rushed and barely proofread so i’m very sorry if there’s mistakes xoxo 💋💋 enjoy lovelies

Being a regular at a coffee shop had its perks.

One, it felt safe and secure.

Two, you always knew what to order.

And three, the cute barista.

Peter Parker. He was charming, and probably the most gorgeous guy you’d ever seen. But there was one problem.

He always spelled your name wrong.

Sure, it’s okay if it happens once or twice. But every time you ordered, he spelled your name wrong. It was a good thing that he was cute, otherwise you would’ve been mad.

The adult thing to do would have been to correct him– but it has been a year of ordering the same couple of drinks. It would have been very awkward to correct him now, a year deep into flirting and being a regular.

You hadn’t been to the coffee shop in a few days. The flu was kicking your ass. You started to feel slightly better at the three-day mark of being sick, so you walked down to the coffee shop. Hopefully, your go-to drink will make you feel better.

You walk in through a secret back door, mostly because you want to sneak up on Peter. You could only pray that he was working today.

“Your girl hasn’t been here in a bit, Peter,” One of his coworkers says, and you hear a sigh from your hiding spot in the secret hallway.

Peter groans, “Don’t remind me, Ned!”

A mug drops on the floor, and that’s your cue to walk up to the counter.

Peter is cleaning up the mess when you walk over, and he practically senses that you’re there.

“Hey,” You smile, “Made a mess?”

He grins, “I’ll be with you in a second.”

You wait by the counter, making occasional eye contact with his coworker, who you assume is Ned.

Peter eventually comes to the counter, asking if you want your go-to order. You say yes, and he gets on making it.

When he hands you the to-go cup, your name is spelled right, and his phone number is on it.

“You spelled my name right!” You beam, before slapping a hand over your mouth.

Peter turns around. “I was spelling your name wrong?”

You sigh.

“I should’ve told you, I know, but it was too late! By the time I noticed, you’d been spelling it wrong for almost a year. I’m sorry,” You explain. Ned snorts behind the counter, causing you and Peter to shoot daggers at him.

Peter looks at you after a while of awkward silence, his gaze soft and hesitant.

“Call me, okay?” He says, smiling widely.

Your throat kind of goes dry as you say, “I will.”

“Okay,” Peter smiles, “Well, you need to leave. You’re distracting me.”

A laugh erupts from you as you walk out. “Am I banned?”

“Just for today.”

About Fanfiction

You know when you come across a fanfiction that is just so wonderful in every way, and once it's over you genuinely don't know what to do. There's just this static going on your brain and it's just like- I - I don't - like a genuine loss of words. Because you have read something so beautiful and unique, and thoughtful, something that has actually changed parts of you and the way you view things.

This is why its ridiculous how much shit fanfiction gets, because this feeling, is so incredibly rare, and let me tell you, not once have I read a published book that has had this effect on me.

Sure, there is bad fanfiction, but guess what. There are also bad books. And just like there are amazing books, there are amazing fanfictions. And I got to read one of those for free.

The skill, not only in the writing but the way the characters are told, the story, the emotions, everything. The time and research that writer has put on this work, and I got to read it for free.

Through fanfiction we get to read and tell stories that the mainstream media is too bigoted to publish.

It is really fucking stupid to shit on fanfiction because "some of it is bad". Some of us don't get represented in the media as much, some of us at all, and some of us only in negative light.

So yeah, say thanks to fanfiction writers, leave kudos, leave comments. Fanfiction can be really fucking amazing.

14th nov 2023 — watched interstellar in the cinema (still feels unreal), and then i came home and watched the finale of loki (season 2)... safe to say LOTS of tears were shed. i love experiencing emotionally damaging media lmao.

let me teach you pt.1

pairing: Steve Rogers x afab!reader x Bucky Barnes (can be read as gn!reader)

summary: You are a literature professor at university and your boyfriends decide to pay you a visit and listen to one of your lectures.

warnings: none, just fluff

wordcount: 1158 words

a/n: After some very shameless smut, I’m now back with some fluff, don’t worry you won’t have to miss the smut for long. And now: enjoy! <3

Since you were little it was always your dream to become a teacher. But it took very long for you to figure out what kind of teacher you wanted to become. Kindergarten? Pre school? Secondary School? Literary School? University? The options were endless, how would you ever be able to decide?

But when you grew older, the only logical option for you was to teach what you loved most and to pass on your passion to others. So, when you were 18, you decided to study English Literature in England. And even though you loved England you wanted to see more, so you moved to New York. For the last few years you have been working at Columbia in the English and Comparative Literature Department as a literature professor.

This semester you taught multiple classes but your favourite course was definitely feminist literature, as it was something you felt wasn’t represented enough in academia.

You’ve wanted to teach this specific course ever since you’ve started as a uni professor and now you finally got the chance to do it.

You didn’t have a lot of students in that specific course, but they were the perfect group. Always attentive, asking deep questions but still being able to fool around sometimes. Classes like this remind you, why you started teaching and why you loved it so much.

You were currently standing in said class, talking about the next book you are going to discuss, when suddenly the door to the lecture hall opened.

It was strange really. It didn’t happen often that students accidentally mistake your lecture hall for theirs, especially since it was the middle of the semester AND the middle of the lecture. But, as you can see, it still happened occasionally.

The class turned their attention to the door and suddenly two familiar men entered. Your boyfriends. You couldn’t hold in the little surprised gasp that left your lips.

You knew that they voiced the desire to visit you at work and listen to one of your lectures and you told them that they were always welcome. You just didn’t think that they would visit so soon.

Especially since you thought they were on a mission until tomorrow evening.

The jaws of your students dropped, but you only started to smile at seeing the super soldiers.

 Yup, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, Captain America and the former Winter Soldier, are your boyfriends. You still can’t believe it either but you were very happy about it. They entered with a apologetic smile.

“Sorry, we couldn’t find the right room, but it seems we’ve found it now.”, Bucky said with a teasing grin.

“Yea, Sorry, please just carry on, sweetheart.”, Steve told you after they both said down in one of free seats at the very front.

At the term off endearment, the jaws of you students dropped even wider, but you just carried on with your lecture.

“Where were we? Close your mouths or you’ll catch a fly! So as I was telling you,…”, you went on with your lecture and after a moment your student snapped put of it and started taking notes again.

You still had a good hour of your lesson left and Steve and Bucky were almost as attentive as your students. Taking notes, raising their hands and asking questions. The only difference was that your students don’t look at you with heart shaped eyes and loopy smiles, getting distracted from the lectures.

But you were not complaining about their attention. You always loved it when they looked at you like you were their world. They almost made you blush multiple times.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and you dismissed your class for today, giving them new assignments to work on.

The boys still sat patiently and waited for you to finish up. They even offered to help and you let them clean your blackboard. When you packed up, Bucky insisted on carrying your bag and they escorted you to your office.

On your way there, you saw a lot of baffled and shocked expressions from people seeing your partners. You’ve gotten over the initial shock of seeing them, but it still amused you to no end to see that shock on others.

You entered your office and showed Bucky where to put you bag. You loved the way your office looked. Big dark bookshelves, overflowing with books, a worn out leather couch between them, a little coffee table in front of it, your Mahogony desk in the middle of the room, two leather chairs that matched the couch in front of it, your chair behind it and a lot of lamps that made the space even more cozy and even more you.

Your boyfriends started to explore your space, your books, your little trinkets and knickknacks that you had displayed in the room, while you sat down in your desk and pulled out the essays that you had to correct.

“You can sit down wherever you want, just be prepared, during my office hours, students often come in with questions and stuff. I thought you had a mission until tomorrow?”, you looked at them with a pointed look, they knew you were always worried when they were away and wanted to know when they would come back, “Anyways, you could have said something, then I would have prepared something more interesting than me talking about a book for one and a half hours.”

Steven was the first to speak up. “I loved hearing you talk about something you’re so passionate about. An we’re really sorry, we didn’t know that we would get home earlier either, but when we found out we thought we’d surprise you. Was that not okay?”, he asked, worry etched into his face.

“No, no, of course that’s okay. You know, you’re always welcome in my lessons, both of you.”, you immediately assured him, smiling.

They smiled back and settled into the couch, both with one of your books in their hands, as you got started with correcting the essays of your students. It took a bit longer, because you preferred to do it by hand, always annoying your students by asking them to write it on paper or at least print it out.

They were quiet and when students came in with problems even left the room to give you space to concentrate.

When your office hours were over, you were done with correcting and decided to join the boys on the couch. You sat down in-between them, and cuddled into them.

For a while you stayed like this, Steve with his arms around your shoulder, you leaning your head against Bucky’s shoulder, going further down until your laying half on top of him, your head on his chest while he had his flesh hand on your thigh.

You bathed in the comfort of your men, a comfortable silence settling over you.

To be continued…

Part 2!

a/n: I will definitely post a part 2 with smut! If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving some notes, likes, reposts and comments with feedback are always very appreciated! <3

Completely forgot Sebastian Stan was in this show.

The Mad Hatter❣️

When you are in love, and you get hurt, it's like a cut — it will heal, but there will always be a scar.

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 & 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐗

CANON DIVERGENT / ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSES. Highly Selective & Private Multimuse for the Arthurian Legends, Merlin BBC, Red White And Royal Blue, Star Wars, & more. (high to low activity) ⤷ Remembered by Emrys, 30+ They / Them

Part of the process of recovering from my first psychotic episode has involved revisiting all of the famous gothic horror literature i read and was fascinated by as a preteen and reading Poe has been a constant experience of yeah I’ve been there before buddy and it really does feel like he was ahead of his time in terms of presenting reality as inherently absurd in a way his peers didn’t often touch upon. People often stop their analysis at “Edgar Allan Poe utilizes unreliable narrators a lot” instead of going a bit further to put themselves in the shoes of the characters and asking what it feels like to live in an unreliable reality. Reading Poe stories feels so very melancholic at a moment in my life when I don’t know how to get care for these issues, whether or not I’m actually sound of mind or just convincing myself I’m losing touch with reality-- in other words “faking it.” Ever since the incident moments of joy and curious hobbies have gone from being seen by those around me as quirky hyperfixations to something more sinister and unwell. Others who I thought really cared for my health and safety seem to treat the revelation that I am “losing my mind, no literally. . . please let me tell you what happened” with the if i’m retelling the story of what flavor of soda i picked at the vending machine. It’s so alienating as if being terrified of your own mind and it’s capability to break apart the rules of reality isn’t alienating enough. I think Poe really captures that feeling I get when things are just a bit off until they crescendo into an event that seems massive and tiny and inconsequential all the same. I really can’t describe it because the fear I feel is unlike any other fear I’ve felt and you don’t know it until you’ve felt it and it clicks. Out of curiosity I wanted to see how well H.P. Lovecraft held up or if my distaste for his work was strictly from the knowledge of who the man was in life. The answer is no, it does not. Frankly I find it insulting that H.P. Lovecraft is put at the same level as Poe, far above the tens of Gothic writers that preceded him by decades to nearly a century. . . of whom Lovecraft would openly take influence from just to water down down everything that makes those works interesting. The “indescribable” horrors that Lovecraft describes are paradoxically comprehensible. I’ve had many discussions with my partner about why more grounded surrealist art feels far more surreal and uneasy than art that is comprised of endless “weird” imagery. To keep this topic brief, think something like David Lynch. His films are utterly bizarre compared to your average hollywood blockbuster, sure, but as far as surrealist media goes? His films are very grounded in reality, but that reality feels off and strange in a way that genuinely is indescribable. When I read Lovecraft on the other hand, it feels like he read a lot of gothic literature about the sublime, indescribably transcendent nature of the universe and replaced that with essentially. . . a big scary monster. When Lovecraft writes “indescribable” or other similar words as a descriptor for what his characters see, it feels akin to when 14 year olds discover the SCP wiki and think that the more you write REDACTED or [DATA EXPUNGED] the scarier the object of horror is. It feels lazy when you’re not given any other reason to feel afraid. When I read Dagon it feels like I’m reading an early 2010s creepypasta written by someone who hasn’t been writing long enough to analyze what makes something scary. It genuinely feels like someone trying to write what they think psychosis might be like. His stories are so inhuman (and not in the way he’s trying to achieve) and detached, and I never get the is it real or not feeling I get from older gothic stories dealing with notions of sanity and humanity’s role in the universe. I know the big spooky space creatures are real in the universe of the text, so I don’t really connect the Lovecraftian hero’s lapses of sanity. You don’t see the same tragic decay of mind and body and ill-fated social dynamics that permeate so many of Poe’s stories. I genuinely don’t know what purpose there is to be gained from the oft-quoted declaration that the core of Lovecraft is about uncovering knowledge you aren’t supposed to know. I frankly don’t know how you can separate the art from the artist for HPL when so much of his work seems to pretty clearly match up with antisemitic “secret global society” conspiracy theories that go back centuries upon centuries. Think about it for two seconds: the “terrible knowledge” that gets discovered is typically the existence of some all-powerful cosmic race that seems to hide itself at all costs and could possibly end humanity’s pitiful existence should they so choose to do so. So much of his work involves this utterly unsympathetic view of otherness as an “indescribable threat” in society whereas I think a lot of Poe’s writing really captures the terror of being othered at a time when the treatment of mentally ill and disabled people was at one of its all-time peaks. I might revisit this idea again when I’m not tired as shit but I think in all, Lovecraft feels almost boring. Nothing feels really impressive despite the scale of its horror. In some ways, Poe really feels almost shockingly similar to a lot of postmodern man-vs-reality narratives, whereas Lovecraft feels like he takes a lot of the same aesthetics of gothic literature and uses it to craft a narrative that is far more simplistic than it seems at first glance. It hardly even qualifies as a man-vs-god narrative prevalent in the time of the Illiad, but given HPL’s track record when it comes to respecting human beings it’s all just a bare bones black and white us-versus-them man-vs-man narrative. Now, art doesn’t have to be thematically complex to be good, but I find it a bit insulting when the man with the copy-paste self insert characters with the personality of soggy paper wants to profess understanding of profoundly existentialist, indescribable terror. . . and the vast majority of his work is just an allegory with a metaphor writing-hand heavier than CS Lewis’s own that gives me no insights about the world other than that he literally couldn’t get over the “indescribable” fear of “grug look different from ogg, grug bad!” dog you didn’t make a cosmic discovery you are literally the fuckin meme “men will smoke weed once and think they’re enlightened for discovering empathy” or whatever. i have more transcendental experiences railing twinks and cuddling with pretty girls talk about smth really indescribable!!!!! it’s fucking caveman shit. mf really would be writing shitty fanfic of shadow puppets if you locked him in the cave fr fr. prolly wouldn’t notice he’s in an allegory fr fr life is indescribable and that’s what makes it beautiful and tragic and precious just eat a cock like the rest of us instead ur scarin the hoes with your shitty octopus fursona!

my whole dash is dan and phil rn im crying ive got like a dozen mutuals from each fandom im in all talking about the revival like i didnt even know you LIKED them i didnt even know you knew who they were

i do think it's kind of funny that ao3 seems to have made a blanket change to all the "mythology" tags to make them "religion and lore" (not a good change) EXCEPT the "arthurian mythology" tag, which remains intact despite a Number of people trying to get that one reworked or at least different wrangled for ages. they're like "we're taking mythology away from all the contexts where it might be applicable. and leaving it in the context where it's dubious. this is a sensible change"

Pen pals - p. parker

TASM! Peter Parker x Fem! reader

summary: peter parker is your pen pal.

warnings: none so far!!!

hello helloooo!!! i had this idea because i myself have a pen pal, and it’s honestly really fun and reminds me of peter. this will be multiple parts!! anyhoo, happy reading!

Having a pen pal was fun. It gave you something to look forward to whenever you needed to open the mailbox. It was nice, although your lovely pen pal, Peter, was on the other side of the country. You were in Seattle. He was in Queens, New York. It was a nice arrangement that you two had. No phone numbers, just handwritten letters, and cute little pictures.

When you opened your apartment mailbox and saw that you had a letter from Peter, your heart felt warm. It was the warmest you’ve felt in a while.

Y/N,

My apologies for not writing you back sooner. School is kicking my butt recently, and I moved back in with May (hence why a new address is on the envelope). My old roommate went BALLISTIC on me for little things, so I decided I needed to leave. May is a better person to have around, anyway.

The fall semester ended last week, and I wish I could say that I passed my finals. My professors are just mean, I think. I’ve been super stressed out lately, and writing this letter is helping me. You’re my savior. Also, the pictures you sent me of you in Tennessee are amazing. You should be a model! I’m sure you hear that a lot because of how pretty you are;)

I hope it’s not too cold in Seattle. I took some pictures of random things I thought you’d like, maybe that’ll distract you from how cold it is. I know how much you hate the cold. (You chose the wrong place to live!)

Anyhoo, I’m sorry this letter is short. My wrist is cramping up and May needs help with dinner. Write back as soon as you can.

Much love,

Peter ♥

Photo one: Peter in an obnoxiously large New Year’s Eve hat, grinning from ear to ear with his friend(?)

Photo two: A Polaroid of stray cats bonding in what you assume is Peter’s front yard.

Photo three: A Polaroid of Peter that was clearly taken by May. Peter is holding a tray of muffins, and he looks really stupid in his apron.

You get to writing him a letter right away.

Dear Peter,

I love the pictures. I’ll add them to my growing collection on my wall:)

My day has been so shitty. I wish you were here. It gets lonely, sometimes. I have friends, I’ve told you very little about them. They’re great, don’t get me wrong, but living alone is just lonely. Maybe I should get a cat or something. I need something to come home to. (Sorry for making this portion of the letter sad. I just needed someone to talk to.)

The weather in Queens looks nice. You’re awfully lucky, Peter. It’s cold and slushy here. I’m cold to the bone. Like, nothing will warm me up. It’s annoying. I just want it to be summer again. I hate being pale and cold.

I don’t have any pictures as of right now, so I’m sorry about that. I have some drawings I could give you.

My letter is short too, so I guess we’re even. I need to nap the sadness away.

Cold and loving,

Y/N ♥

~

The next letter you receive from Peter is about a week later.

My dearest Y/N,

I’m so sorry you aren’t feeling well.

I know we said we wouldn’t exchange phone numbers, and I respect that, but I just need to give you mine. I need to. Just in case. I don’t want you to be sad and lonely and have to wait for my letters to come. I like you. I like you A LOT– And I honestly want to meet you in person but that’s a conversation for another day. I’ve been saving up for it. Maybe you should come during the spring? You’d love it here, I know it. Or I could come to you? Whatever, we can talk about it more over the phone.

My phone number:

(718)-XXX-XXXX

Call me;)

Love always,

Peter ♥

You immediately spring up to your feet and grab your phone. Your hands were shaking as you dialed the number and called it, praying he wouldn’t think it was a spam call.

“Pete?” You ask, voice higher than you meant it to be.

Boyish laughter erupts on the other end of the line, and you already know that it’s Peter. Of course, his laugh would sound so sweet.

“Hi, lovie.”

Was listening to a podcast the other day, about how there’s less and less sex scenes in TV and Movies, and one person mentioned how MCU characters feel sexless/sensualess, even when they’re in a romantic relationship, and that a lot of the problem isn’t that there’s less sex scenes, there’s just less “healthy” sex scenes, bc ones violent in nature are still very much there, and that someone said a lot of it is the way society ( and Hollywood ) assigns romance/sex/sensuality to femininity, and violence to masculinity, and that’s why we see more violent movies get green lit and pull in big numbers, than romantic ones… and anyway, my mind’s just been unpacking that whole conversation for a while now. 🫣

The Reason Why Americans Spell "Colour" As "Color" (And Other Weird Spellings)

For American and British fanfic writers/readers alike (or any curious souls from anywhere else) who are wondering why Americans spell certain words without an extra "U", unlike everyone else, you can thank the printing press and the classic, American tradition of "cutting corners" for that.

The printing press was the first machine to mass produce documents, entire books, and newspapers, when the only other alternative was writing everything out by hand, and was crucial in developing a nation that was just starting out. However, buying/transporting the machines and metal letters could be pricey and would take far too long to get to America (since all supplies had to be shipped overseas from Europe). News outlets of the time didn't want to potentially miss out on printing vital, current events during this wait and newspapers also only had so much room to get their point across on the front page. So, it became common practice to get rid of letters that didn't affect words phonetically to save on space, money, and time, drastically changing how Americans spell certain words to this day.

Words like "favourite", "flavour", "colour", "armour", and "honour" became "favorite", "flavor", "color", "armor", and "honor". We also have:

Mould➡️Mold

Encyclopaedia➡️Encyclopedia

Speciality➡️Specialty

Jewellery➡️Jewelry

Cheque➡️Check

Plough➡️Plow

Draught➡️Draft

Programme➡️Program

Spelling things phonetically also advanced the country's education, as most of the illiterate lower-class could now pick up reading a lot faster, thus, essentially, creating a middle class, where there hadn't been one before, as the written word became more accessible. This history of choosing spellings based on phonetics eventually made America into a culture that spells many words by how they sound when spoken, instead of by their root-word origins (such as Latin, Roman, Greek, etc.) even if the letter count is the same or longer.

Examples include "realise" becoming "realize", "cosy" becoming "cozy", and "offence" and "defence" becoming "offense" and "defense".

And thus concludes the deep and rich history behind why Americans spell certain things the way that they do.

So, just a tip for you British fanfic writers out there planning to write in an American fandom:

Make sure to check your spelling.

(Oh, quick side note: some Google results will say that Americans use "dialog", "monolog", and "practise" instead of "dialogue", "monologue", and "practice", but I have never once come across anyone in my life who has ever used those spellings, nor have I used an American computer/phone that will let me do that without autocorrecting me. Maybe there are some places in the US that use those, but if there are, I haven't seen them.)

MARC SPECTOR / STEVEN GRANT / JAKE LOCKLEY CHARACTER STUDY:

“ICARUS SHOULD HAVE WAITED FOR NIGHTFALL, THE MOON WOULD HAVE NEVER LET HIM GO.”

December Fever, Joy Katz // Image ID: @salome-c // When my brother was an Aztec, Natalie Diaz // Adonis, tr. by Khaled Mattawa, Selected Poems // Alejandra Pizarnik, tr. by Yvette Siegert, from “Written in Anahuac (Talitha)”, Extracting the Stone of Madness: Poems 1962 - 1972 // Image ID: Moonassi //You’re Somebody Else, flora cash // Image ID: Oscar Isaac as Cecil in "Revenge For Jolly!" (2012) // Adonis, tr. by Khaled Mattawa, Selected Poems // Sula,Toni Morrison // Blank Generation, Richard Hell and the Voidoids // Blue Sun: A poetry collection, Nina Mouawad.

Wait wait wait one second gotta flex seeing Farhan Akhtar IRL reeeal quick-