But-might-as-well-anyway

I need a fic now where before the fight with Rhea, Kara gives the necklace to Cat for safekeeping in case she doesn’t make it.”- thank @xy0009 who graciously let me write this for her 


“Aren’t you supposed to be out pummeling that alien queen into the concrete?” Cat asked, watching Supergirl land gently on her balcony.

“I am, soon. Sooner than soon,” Kara said, looking at the countdown that was playing on the corner of all the screens behind Cat’s desk. Fifteen minutes left. “I just had a talk with Kal. Er, Superman.”

Cat’s eyebrow lifted at the accidental name drop, tucking away the information for… nothing, probably. She couldn’t exactly start printing every little slip up Kara made in her presence. But it was always nice to know more than other people. “Did he give you some tips on not getting snatched by that god-awful cape?”

“No, although that would be helpful if he had any,” Kara said, twisting the end of her cape anxiously around her arm. “He just said some stuff about… about fighting for people that you cared about. His girlfriend, mostly.”

“Superman has a girlfriend?” Cat asked, sidetracked for a moment at the thought of Lois Lane finding out that her precious superhero was going home to someone else.

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When We Collide

Pairing: Assistant!Y/N/CEO!Luke

Rating: PG-All

Request: Yes

Words: 4.000+

Summary: He is the definition of high class smart ass, swimming in Dom Pierre Pérignon champagne and has never seen the shadow of poverty. She is underprivileged, lives in a messy dorm room on sale and struggles working as an assistant after being thrown out of college. But how will they collide when Luke makes Y/N pregnant after a drunkenly one night stand?

”So what you’re saying is that I woke up this morning expecting everything to be butterflies and rainbows, called my chauffeur to pick me up and wasted gas all the way over to my office just because you couldn’t satisfy my request?”

Luke’s tone rose by each word that left past his pink lips, his eyebrows furrowing and his marker rolling between his fingers.

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here they are!!!

after a way-too-long wait here are the fantasy au references for russel and noodle! these two are a lot harder to draw for me, especially russ, since I’m not used to drawing them as much as 2d and mudz but i hope you all like them anyway, i did my best :”)

noodle is a homeless feral elf girl who russ catches trying to steal weapons, russ is a blacksmith who creates magical items, swords, staffs, the like. (he does woodworking too, but less frequently.)

thanks to my friend bustednnblue on instagram for designing noodle and giving me the idea for russ’s floral bandanas!! he’s working on a fic so that might come out as well.

anyway i hope you all enjoy. would you like to see more of the au? do you want more doodles or backstory? shoot me a message or tag me in a post! fan works and art are always appreciated, and feel free to send me any headcanons you have!! <3

Sparks Chapter 16

Originally posted by livvy1800

Pairing: Bucky(POV) X Reader(POV) ft. other characters from the avengers team

Word Count: 5.1K

Summary: Bucky helps y/n put together her new dresser. y/n begins to experience the stress of the job. Bucky finally begins to move on from his feelings for y/n.

A/N: This is a story about two people building a great friendship and then slowly falling in love. y/n is a strong, independent, and smart scientist. She meets Bucky when she wakes him up from cryo sleep and they become friends. This is going to have all the angst / best friends falling in love / fluff / drama / & eventual smut ;) that I can possibly fit in it. This fic is going to be looong! So far my document is like 50,000 words. So editing is hard If you catch any grammatical or formatting errors let me know.

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jenbrait1415  asked:

Do you think you can do #12 with Pietro?

12. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”- Pietro Maximoff

Once again you’d been dragged to one of Stark’s parties, something about showing a united front, and your protests had got you nowhere. So here you were, leant against the bar downing drink after drink, not that it could actually get you drunk anyway. You had advanced healing, meaning your metabolism just burnt straight through the alcohol, however it had its perks, such as allowing you to save the life of a certain Speedster. Since the battle against Ultron, and you saving Pietro’s life, the two of you had become incredibly close friends, even Wanda seemed to have opened up to you. However you being the idiot you were had begun falling for the Sokovian at an alarming rate, something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the majority of the team, excluding the Speedster himself who seemed completely oblivious to how you felt. Finishing of your drink you scanned the room, looking for signs of either Maximoff twin, just someone to keep you company. “Hello Y/N.” Wanda’s accented voice rang out from beside you, snapping your gaze over to her. “Hey Wanda.” You smiled half-heartedly. “He will be here in a moment.” She smirked, causing you to blush and avert your gaze back to your hands that were wrapped around the empty glass. “Good evening ladies.” A deep voice purred from beside you, turning your head you were met with bright green eyes and a handsome face. Smiling slightly you nodded your head in recognition. “Clark.” He smiled, holding a hand out for you. “Y/N.” You replied, “And this is my friend Wanda.” You murmured gesturing to the female Maximoff. “Well it’s lovely to meet the both of you, care to join me for a drink?” His smooth voice asked, signalling to the bartender. “I’ve just gotta go see Nat, but Y/N would love to.” Wanda smiled, sending a wink your way. “Just a F/D please.” You smiled. Maybe this would be your chance to get over your feelings for Pietro, you might as well try anyway. “So Y/N, boyfriend? Husband?” Clark asked, scrunching his nose up, making you giggle. “No, no boyfriend, and definitely no husband.” You chuckled, pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Their loss.” He smirked, leaning in closer.

3rd Person POV

As soon as Pietro had entered the room in which Stark’s party was being held, his eyes scanned the room for any sign of you. Noticing you sat at the bar he went to run over to you when he saw a dark haired man leaning in close. His stomach twisted painfully and a small growl came from his throat. “Everything okay brother?” Wanda’s voice rang from his side. “Who is that with Y/N?” He asked, trying to keep his tone calm and failing. “His name is Clark and he’s a delight.” Wanda smiled, knowing how much this would annoy her brother. “Hmmph.” Pietro huffed, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. “I don’t like him, he’s not good enough for her.” Pietro growled, furrowing his brow. “Then who is brother.” Wanda murmured before walking away, hopefully this would give him the push he needed to tell her how he felt, thought Wanda.

Y/N’s POV

Clark was great, but he was no Pietro. That was all you could think as the good looking man in front of you continued spouting off about one story or another. Speak of the devil, Pietro’s telltale trail zoomed past, a gust of wind following him. “So Y/N, my place is only one block away, care to join me?” Clark purred. “Um…” You murmured, but before you could even give an answer, Clark was gone, only a blue trail left behind. Looking to where the trail lead you followed it around a corner and to an empty corridor, where Pietro was holding Clark up by his lapels, dangerously close to his face. “Piet?” You murmured, walking closer to the pair. At the sign of your voice Pietro dropped Clark to the ground and span round to look at you, the anger dispersing from his eyes. Looking over the two men you could see Clark was sporting a black eye, and Pietro’s knuckles were slightly bloody. “Come on.” You murmured, grabbing Pietro by the arm and dragging him to your room.

As you at the blonde Sokovian down on your bed you grabbed your first aid kit and began patching up his knuckles. “What on earth were you thinking?” You asked, wrapping a bandage around his hand. “You don’t deserve to be spoken to that way.” He mumbled, avoiding your eyes. “Wait a minute. Were you jealous?” You asked, standing back slightly. “Pffft, no.” He grumbled, looking at the ground. “You were weren’t you.” You grinned, stepping in between his legs and gently pushing his face up, so he was looking at you. “Okay maybe but…” He began babbling before you crashed your lips against his. “It’s only you Piet. It’s only ever been you.” You murmured against his lips as his arms wrapped around your waist. “I love you.” He sighed as your hands knotted in his hair. “I love you too, you gigantic idiot.” You giggled.

FIC: good is better than perfect (juno/peter)

The Penumbra Podcast, Juno Steel segments. Rita&Juno, Rita&Peter, and Juno/Peter. 8.5k. cws: canon-typical alcohol use and gun violence, kidnapping, implied torture (nothing serious)

Five times Rita didn’t meet Peter Nureyev, and one time she did.

[read on ao3 | title lyric]

The thing is, there are expectations that come with being a private eye’s secretary, all sorts of things that people expect you to be able to do or know at the drop of a hat. Rita’s not good at most of those things. She’s really good at the ones she’s good at, like the note-taking and the people-watching and the pattern-finding, but it took her a long time to figure out that there were things that she was bad at too. A lot of people expect secretaries to be organized and all prim and proper and probably not watching streams while they work (not that Mister Steel really cares, no matter how much he pretends to) and Rita isn’t… well, Rita isn’t any of that.

The other side of that, though, is that when people try to figure her out they do it wrong, and that’s what Mister Steel calls an asset. That’s what Rita calls annoying, but she has to admit, it’s always fun to see the look on a sucker’s face when they realize they’re a sucker. So maybe she plays up the parts that she figures people underestimate, so what? It’s their own stinkin’ fault if they think she’s dumb, or that Mister Steel would hire a dumb secretary. And there’s a time and a place to be dumb on purpose, anyways, and that’s not all the time, even though the place normally is always at work.

So the point of all this is: when the doors slide open and that Dark Matters agent from a couple months back walks in smug as ever, Rita doesn’t bother with the simpering or looking all moony. She taps her pen against her mouth and turns her eyes up to him. “The boss isn’t in right now, so if you’re looking for him you’d better come back some other time.”

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what I really don’t understand about co///ai shippers who want to kill off Ran to make their ship work is that like… do they not realize that they are reducing the character that they claim to love so very much to the status of the rebound girl? the second best option?

Ai has been through much! She deserves so much more than that!!! she deserves someone to love her because she’s herself, not because she’s the only available option left

like not only is it unrealistic to think that Shinichi would ever fall in love with anyone again were something to happen to Ran, especially if it were either directly or even indirectly because of him, but it’s unrealistic to think that Ai/Shiho would settle for being, essentially, the replacement girlfriend

(it’s also why akai/shiho is bad too, other than the fact that akai is a grown ass man and Shiho is only eighteen lol, not to mention the fact that gosho is implying that they might very well be cousins)

fanfiction.net
Falling Petals Chapter 3: lost teeth & animal crossing, a danny phantom fanfic | FanFiction

warning: language

           It was kind of weird how Tucker and Sam always managed to be there when things went horrible awry.

           They were sitting in Sam’s bedroom, with Tucker playing Animal Crossing whilst splayed across an unmade bed and Sam sitting cross-legged against a wall with a spider plushy in her lap and her nose stuck in some mythology book. They sat in comfortable silence; a kind of silence that only best friends could sit comfortably in. Every so often, a little noise would emanate from Tucker’s DSI and distract Sam from her reading. Her resulting glare would make Tucker chuckle a bit.

           There was no other noise in the house. Sam’s parents were off doing “whatever snobby couples do on Friday night” (Sam’s words) and Danny, who was usually the conversation starter, had left the room not long ago in search of a restroom (he never could remember where the bathrooms were located).

           And then someone screamed.

           Sam’s book flew out of her hands and she jumped up, running to the door in such a hurried frenzy that she tripped over a pile of clothes. Tucker had lost his grip on his DSI and it made a resounding smack as it hit his face, resulting in a string of curses that would have persuaded Sam’s parents to call the police. Then they were both attempting to squeeze through the door at the same time, Sam shouting reassuring things to Danny that actually sounded more like a string of incoherent struggling noises.

           Sam and Tucker’s footsteps sounded more like tiny earthquakes as they ran down the hall.

           The door to the closest bathroom slammed open, hit the wall, and caused some thousand dollar painting to clatter to the ground. The frame shattered and probably damaged the painting, but Sam wasn’t thinking about the chiding that she would endure from her parents later in the evening. Rather, she was thinking about what horrible thing could be happening to Danny now, and why she hadn’t been there to help, and oh God what if he’s already dead what am I going to do how am I going to explain my best friend’s dead body to my parents oh my God.

           Instead of Danny’s bloody, deceased body, Sam and Tucker were surprised to see their best friend in perfect health, standing in front of the mirror with giant saucer eyes. He jumped when the door slammed, his lips pressed together in such a thin line that they were practically nonexistent. There was a little cut in his lower lip that was leaking a tiny dot of blood, but it was nothing compared to Sam’s carpet-burned forearms and Tucker’s bloody nose.

           Tucker was the first to break the silence. “What the motherfucking fuck, dude? What’s the matter?”

           Danny shook his head, pointed to his mouth, and then jabbed his index finger towards the sink. Tucker practically pushed Sam to get a look inside the sink, and the two froze at the site.

           Four of Danny’s bloodied teeth were inside, sitting precariously close to the drain.

           “Are you losing all your teeth?” Sam whipped her head around to face Danny, the ends of her hair swiping against her chin as she did so.

           He shook his head no.

           “Are you unable to open your mouth?” Tucker queried.

           No.

           “Are there any more lost teeth?” Sam.

           No.

           “Is your mouth filled with blood?” Tucker.

           No.

           “Then open up, dude! It can’t be that bad, can it? We can get you fake teeth or something. Honestly, I thought you were dying when I heard you scream, so this is a major improvement. You’re not dying, are you?”

           Danny shook his head again.

           “Good. Come on, let’s see.”

           Danny moved his eyes from Tucker to Sam. He was shaking.

           “It’s alright, Danny. Everything’s alright.”

           Then, slowly, surely, Danny opened up his mouth.

           No teeth were missing. None. Rather, four teeth (two on top and two on bottom) were growing at an alarming rate to fit in the gaping holes that had been left behind. This would have been all fine and well, except those four teeth were more like fangs, looking strikingly too similar to stalactites and stalagmites for Sam’s comfort. As they watched, the fangs finally slowed and stopped, with the bottom ones a bit smaller than the top ones. Each was, however, a good few centimeters above the surrounding teeth, gleaming dangerously in the fluorescent bathroom lights.

           Tucker burst out laughing. It started as a fit of giggles and progressed into complete cackles, tears forming along the waterline of his eyes.

           “This isn’t funny, Tuck!” Danny yelled, looking in the mirror once more to study the new addition to his mouth. “How the hell am I going to explain this to my parents? What will the people at school think? Dude, I’m dead.”

           “Who cares what they think?” Sam said. “We should be worrying about how the hell this is even scientifically possible.”

           “Sam—“

           ”No, Danny, listen! This literally means that you getting ghost powers somehow also managed to make you grow four new bones in your fucking skull.

           Tucker was still laughing. ”Dude, imagine how much you can scare Dash with those things. You’re a certified vampire now.”

           “Shut up, Tuck!”

           Tucker straightened, wiped his tears, and exhaled slowly. “I can’t believe I stopped playing Animal Crossing for this. Adiós.”

           And with that, Tucker grabbed a toilet paper roll off the shelf, stuffed some of it up his bleeding nostril, and left the crowded bathroom.

           “Sam, this is a huge deal. I can’t just get rid of these like I can get rid of every other aspect of my ghost powers. People are gonna ask questions.”

           Sam shrugged. “You’re parents aren’t observant enough to notice. Also, haven’t you seen Blue Exorcist? No one really asked questions about his new fangs in there. I mean, they noticed it, but most people just kind of wrote it off as a birth defect or something.”

           “My life is not a fucking anime, you fucking weeb.”

           “You’ve got the white hair and the angst. It might as well be. Anyways, we need to teach you how to scream only when there’s an actual problem. Honestly, I’m just curious as to how this is even scientifically possible.”

           “Sam, I have a weird ball of energy stuck in my chest that makes it possible for me to have ice powers. A few new bones shouldn’t be this big of a deal.”

           Sam, however, had already turned around and started walking away before Danny had even finished his sentence.

           “Hey, where are you going?” He yelled after her.

           “To finish my book! Oh, also, can you do me a favor and clean up that broken glass? Love ya!”

           Danny huffed and washed his teeth down the sink. Despite how annoyed he felt, he still found himself grinning.

Thank God for my friends.

Property of Percy Jackson [fic]

This fic is dedicated to @lililibird for some reason that I cannot remember (I’m guessing it’s bc you’re hella awesome, Lili) so I hope that you guys enjoy the punk!Percy and girly!Annabeth here. I also wanna thank Lili for being an incredible beta and friend to me. Don’t know what I would do without you, bruh <3

Come let me know what you think, and I hope you guys have a wonderful day!

–12202015–

Annabeth can remember every single time that she’s had to hold Percy’s hand as he gets his knuckles stitched back up from punching someone or when she’s had to hold a pack of ice to a black eye that he got for insulting someone at their high school or even that one time that she had to drag him out of the road after he had a skateboarding accident, and he was a lot heavier than he looked, okay?

 So it’s kind of funny to see Percy scowling and frowning and pacing around her small bed in the Emergency Room.

 “Hey,” she says softly, trying to make her voice sound like she was in less pain so he wouldn’t panic. “You can go home. I’m fine.”

He turns his scowl to her. “I’m not leaving you here.”

She shrugs then, looking back up at the wall and biting her lip.

Annabeth was at practice earlier today—Track, even though she wasn’t that good, it looked great on her resumes—when she tripped over one of the hurdles. She could usually clear them without a problem, but she had been thinking about her history paper and her foot got caught on it. She threw her hands out in front of her, which probably saved her face, but her wrist had cracked and bent to a strange angle.

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Day 5 - “Over the Airwaves”

Super late again, but hey, figure I might as well put it up anyway! Still got two more fics to post (day 6 and 7). As a note, this piece is set in early days of Overwatch, probably a month or so after McCree was recruited. Hope everyone enjoyed R76 week!


“Over the Airwaves”


If there was a hell, Gabriel’s version of it would be filled with paperwork. Miles and miles of it, stacks upon stacks, as far as he could see – not so different from his current situation, come to think of it. Slumped over his desk, Gabriel gave a sigh. His back had a crick; Angela would no doubt lecture him about his posture next time he visited her, when his pain-killers ran out. It wasn’t like he could help it when he kept having all this paperwork thrown at him. Every shot fired, every safe-house visited, every piece of intel retrieved – all of it had its own elaborate set of paperwork to be carefully filled out, signed, sent on to higher-ups in the U.N. and Dios, Gabriel hated it.

As his eyes scanned over the half-finished report he was currently working on – without catching a single word of it – he gave a long sigh. Idly, he wondered if Jack had to fill out as much paperwork as he had to, and the idea made him smirk; at least that was one horror they both had to face in their respective positions. His communicator gave a blip, interrupting the thought, and he looked across at it with a frown as the screen lit up, flashing the initials JMc. With a huff, he abandoned the report, reached over, and brought the device to his ear.

“What?”

“Well ‘hello’ to you, too, boss.”

Gabriel’s frown deepened. “I’m writing reports, Jesse. What is it?”

“Jack’s interview just started on the radio, thought you might want to tune in.”

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