My Yuuri is Gryffindor kid study abroad to England cause he heard of a cool half giant teacher that teach about cool magical beast. Cannot stop thinking that Yuuri and Victor they both look good in red and equal….tho Yuuri is a super shy and awkward most of the time lol
I work at an animal shelter and sometimes if cats come in totally matted we have to shave them. So when you said Thief King Bakura is all matted under his coat it made me think of him with a lion cut and I had a good laugh lol
i laughed at this concept so hard I made it into a sticker in my shop
i still really love the Free for All AU idea that me and a few others came up with a while ago.
for those who don’t know what it is, basically someone has the quirk ability to switch other people’s quirk’s for a period of time, which causes shenanigans among the other characters (imagine Aizawa with Mina’s quirk, or Momo with Kaminari’s, or Bakugou with Ochako’s, etc)
the only types of quirks it doesn’t work on are mutation-type, similar to Aizawa’s. which brings up the big part of the AU idea that i really enjoyed:
when the Free for All user tries to switch One For All with another person, they can’t. because OFA can’t be taken forcefully, it can only be given to other people by the user’s own wish. and when that quirk can’t be taken, it tries to take Izuku’s quirk, it can’t… because there’s nothing there to take.
which causes a lot of awkward questions among the students.
allura is an instagram model and even tho its been a year shiro is still baffled at how she even agreed to go out with him in the first place needless to say alluras followers apprecite her super hot, super buff boyfriend
okay here's my longgg WIW thought: AU where teen Nat breaks free of her conditioning/handlers in the late 90s! and starts working on her own side, trying to stealthily eliminate the Red Room and any other organization that relies heavily on brainwashing, b/c she never wants anyone to go through what she did. After a few months, she realizes that someone is helping her behind the scenes--covering her tracks electronically, dropping her hints about where the next cell might be, etc. 1/10
She should be freaked out that someone discovered her, can FOLLOW her, and she is, she’s terrified, but–this person is helping her. this person could have turned her in at any time. so it’s either someone who genuinely wants to help or someone who’s playing a long con to get her. she decides not to let her guard down around this person but to cautiously take their help–double-checking with outside sources before she goes off to do anything on their say-so, though. After a year she 2/10
gets an email that just has the location of a post box. She memorizes it, and when she checks her email again the next day, the message is gone. When she finds the box, she sees that her ghost has left her some new intel along with… some kind of electronic weapon? And instructions. She’s suspicious but she makes someone she’s about to kill test it out and her eyes go wide with delight. She quickly grows to love her new weapon. Her ghost keeps giving her intel/suggestions, but now every 3/10
few months there’s an upgrade, too. After a couple times of this she leaves a message in the box for them, b/c it’s the only way she can think of to contact them, saying thank you. Somehow that turns into the two of them corresponding through letters, and she becomes very fond of her ghost. They’ll never tell her who they are or give any hints, but the two of them talk about everything and nothing, play long games of chess over months, gossip over marked-up fashion magazines and about new 4/10
movies coming out. She feels like she gets to know her ghost very well. Like she can trust them. They have inside jokes! She thinks about them often. She thinks of them as a friend. She still tries to be wary but she knows, though she doesn’t want to admit it, that she’s compromised. She just hopes that they don’t give her away, and wishes she wasn’t so weak that she liked them so much. // ENTER THE WINTER SOLDIER. On a mission in the early 2000s he breaks free of his conditioning and 5/10
runs off to start his own crusade against HYDRA. He and Nat run into each other a few times on jobs they’ve both decided to take. They circle each other warily and exchange some blows, but nothing serious. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right? Eventually she sends a message to her ghost and asks if they think the man is trustworthy. Her ghost comes back saying that the Winter Soldier has been reported missing and maybe this guy is him? Maybe they should bring him in on their project if 6/10
he hates brainwashing too. (Nat gets a warm feeling she quickly squashes when her ghost calls it ‘their’ project.) So she starts talking to the soldier when they run into each other and eventually he comes to find her one day and asks her what her deal is. She explains, asks if he wants to join them. He shrugs and that’s that, he’s now part of their op. Nat’s ghost starts calling him James because ‘he looks like Bucky Barnes, Nat, tell me you don’t see it!’ and slowly over time James gets 7/10
enmeshed into their friendship and letters and starts remembering more about his personality and some memories. So Nat’s ghost becomes THEIR ghost, and things are good. When a month goes by without hearing from their ghost, they don’t worry too much. But they’ve never gone more than two without hearing from them, so they DO worry after their ghost is silent that long. Nat thinks maybe she’s suddenly getting what more she could want to make her happy. What’s been missing. What she hasn’t 8/10
been admitting to herself about James and their ghost, and feelings. Futures. Families. Then she’s absently watching the news and they’re reporting on Tony Stark’s disappearance again–and she sits bolt upright. Tony Stark been missing for two months, Tony Stark is a mechanical genius, Tony Stark… and the pieces fall into place. She feels immense fury boiling inside of her at the thought that someone has their ghost held captive. No.He belongs with her and James. Heads will roll for this. 9/10
Cue a rescue mission to Afghanistan! (Sidenote: I imagine Tony was born ten years later in this au, but his parents still died in 1991. Obie took over the company until Tony would be old enough to take it on, leaving him a bored teenager in the late 90s trawling around on the internet while getting his second phd when he found Natasha. Tony of course has been in love with both of them and known it practically from meeting each but didn’t think they’d want him or it could work out.) 10/10
I’m fine, I’m fine, just sitting here, crying and petting this beautiful headcanon. I don’t even know what to say. There is nothing to say. THIS IS PERFECTION! THANK YOU YOU BRILLIANT WONDERFUL ANON MAY YOUR MIND CONTINUE TO GIFT YOU WITH THESE BREATHTAKING IDEAS!!!
(I’m sorry I’m sorry, I just can’t resist: Nat and James are in the middle of fighting these pathetic terrorists who dared taking their ghost–and they’d enjoy the fight a lot more if it wasn’t for that cold, dreadful worry, that desperate need to find their ghost and make sure he’s okay–when a fucking metal suit starts blasting these bastards apart with the sort of blind fury they can appreciate but know to be wary off. Which is a good thing, because once the last of the Ten Ring guys is dead, James is almost too slow to avoid one of the blasts, and then suddenly the metal suit is on his knees, crying and apologising and it’s all very messy but they’ve got their ghost back and really that’s the only thing that matters, isn’t it?)
My ten minutes break from real life and STH fics, so you get another quick fic. For @lavengadoraaa who is as mad about Mafia AUs as I am about h/c. This one has reincarnation + mobs + soulmate AU because that’s the trifecta.
The tragedy about mobs was that their stories always began with somebody’s funeral or wedding. Happy would say that they were the same, but Happy was working with his ex-wife who had asked his boss to kill him in grief; his opinion didn’t exactly sound unbiased. The tragedy remained, therefore, in Tony’s eyes that a mob’s story always began with a gathering that had bad music and worse food.
If Tony were to write the story, it would begin with a bad idea. And an explosion, though both went hand in hand when it came to him. Anyway, it would always begin with somebody saying they didn’t have a choice before doing something stupid.
“Rhodey shot Wilson,” Pepper announced as she walked into his office, her heels sinking into the scarlet carpet, “He says he had no choice.”
“Any good news?” Tony leaned back on his high chair and looked up from his monthly report of the warehouses they were monitoring.
“Wilson survived,” Pepper said and sank into the dark chair opposite to Tony, toeing off her heels and shooting Tony a wry look.
The good stories began with bad decisions, Tony mentally corrected himself, but the great ones began with bad decisions that led to worse consequences. Like an officer surviving a bullet from a mobster.
“It’s Rhodey,” Pepper raised an eyebrow and Tony nodded in acceptance.
“Fair enough, no witnesses then,” he commented, stretching his arms and linking his hands behind his head, “What’s the problem then?”
“Rogers is the one on the case now,” Pepper said with a pinched look and a cutting glance, “And he’s pissed.”
“He’s been pissed since he got into that uniform,” Tony snorted, “Shouldn’t have made it two sizes smaller.”
“Pepper,” Tony returned her tone before sighing, “Why do you nag me about things you can handle with one hand tied? You’ve handled Rogers before. You can do it again.”
“No, you’ve handled him before,” Pepper corrected him with an amused grin, “I’ve handled your mess and clean-up. Which I hope I never have to do again”.
“It’s good to hope, Potts. The world runs on hope,” Tony grinned and tilted his head to observe her, “Really, Pepper. What’s the problem here? So Rogers is on the case. Do the usual. Pull Rhodey in, put either Viz or Happy out as bait, and throw in a bone of either Hammer or Vanko’s latest news for Rogers to catch. You know the drill. You created the drill.”
“It’s not that simple this time”
“Hammer threw out a bone against us,” Pepper took a breath and held Tony’s gaze, “Tony, he leaked Spider-Man’s identity.”
Tony heard the whirring of a drill somewhere downstairs, the faint strains of Equinox from the jazz bar next door, and the soft chime of a customer entering the salon above them. He heard them all but only through the rush in his ears.
Mob stories were great and made good legends. But Tony would never write one at the cost of a kid’s life.
“Fix the set-up,” he said in the tone that only came out when he dealt with death and monsters above it, “It’s time to distract Officer Rogers through a meeting with a bigger bone.”
Pepper, like she always did, simply picked out her phone and prepared for the worst.
Steve turned off the radio when he reached the defunct warehouse 12 on Carter Street. Radiohead’s Optimistic dwindled into silence as he looked out his window and considered the place.
To an untrained eye it would look like just another warehouse; abandoned, dormant, and quiet in its existence. Steve knew better though. He had seen a lot many good men walk into such warehouses and walk out on shoulders of their friends, in cold coffins. He had heard a lot many stories and lived a lot many tales of injuries and scars that came out of such warehouses. They weren’t always abandoned.
They were a test of survival.
“All units stay alert,” he whispered into his hidden comm and opened his car door to get out, “We can’t afford any mistakes."
His shoes crushed strewn pieces of glass and gravel as Steve walked to the door of the warehouse and eyed the red shutter button on its right end. He pressed on it but nothing happened. If Natasha’s intel were true, he was supposed to meet a whistleblower on the Iron Legion, the mob that had made the department look like headless chicken with every case they lost them in. Sam had come close to nabbing one of its members last week but had been shot in the shoulder for his efforts. Steve knew that it was unfair to be frustrated, but he wished Sam had seen the man’s face at the least.
The whistleblower he had come to meet today was an ex-employee of Stane Industries, the company that Iron Legion had destroyed to the ground a few months back. Natasha said that he had been personally hurt by the mob’s boss and had escaped by the skin of his teeth. It was understandable then why he had been hesitant to come out in the open. Steve just hoped that the man, Knight Natasha said his name was, could come through for them now.
Steve pressed the button once more and heard some noise from within the warehouse. He moved back and tensed up, one hand close to the gun on his hip. The shutter rattled in a minute before Steve saw it open up, the place dark inside.
"Are you Steve Rogers?” a voice asked and Steve tried to find a form in the darkness.
"Yes, do you have some light?“ he asked, eyes still trained on the source of the voice.
"Uh, yeah, I think so, wait a minute,” the voice coughed and Steve heard a small swear before a sound of victory.
There was a click of a lighter and Steve took a step forward as the fire of the lighter slowly brightened to reveal the face of a man.
"Hi" the man smiled awkwardly and looked around Steve’s shoulder, “Sorry, are you - you’re Steve Rogers, right?"
"Yes, and you are Mr. Knight?” Steve asked and the man nodded. His eyes seemed to be darting around Steve’s surroundings and Steve cleared his throat.
“Do you want to go inside or…?"
"What? Oh! Sorry!” the man fumbled and moved inside, “Watch your step, there’s a bump I think, yeah sure, come in."
"There’s no light?” Steve asked, even as he moved inside, following Knight’s lighter.
"Oh, um, yeah, the fuse kinda went off,“ the man chuckled awkwardly, leading Steve inside, "You don’t always check warehouses before renting them, right? I mean, there’s no website or recommendations or anything for them. You just grab the first empty one you get."
"Right,” Steve said and looked around him, finding nothing really visible in clarity, “Do you think we could find something else to get some more light first?"
"Oh, uh, sure?” Knight turned around and looked at Steve, “Do you, um, have a flashlight or something?"
Steve nodded and reached into his pocket to grab the pocket flashlight, taking it out and switching it on.
Knight brought up a hand and shielded his eyes when the light hit him directly.
"Oh sorry, here, sorry,” Steve lowered his torch and Knight switched off his lighter, bringing his hand down to look up at Steve again. In the better and slightly brighter light, Steve caught a good look of the man and felt himself freeze.
The man had the most gorgeous pair of warm brown eyes and a jaw as sharp as a knife. He wore a pair of black rimmed glasses but they did nothing to hide the startling wonder of his eyes, large and expressive in every blink. Steve was never the kind of man to let his emotions loose during a job but there was something about the slight smile and twinkle in the eyes of this man that made his blood sing. Some pull in that face that hit Steve’s gut like a faded laugh.
"Hi, okay, now I see you,“ Knight smiled shyly, an awkward and soft tilt of his lips, and Steve had to squash a rising temptation to keep his eyes on those lips.
"Yeah, I see you too,” Steve replied dumbly and pulled himself together when the man’s expression turned mildly confused, “So, Mr. Knight, I’m glad that I finally found you. Do you have something good for me?"
"I don’t know about good,” Knight huffed ruefully and shrugged, “But whatever I’ve got, I’ll give it to you.”
Steve was sure that it wasn’t intended to sound flirtatious but he still had to will his interest down before nodding.
“I’m all ears"
"Oh, um, I just start talking?” Knight blinked at Steve and Steve shrugged.
"Okay,” the man cleared his throat before looking back at Steve seriously, “I met Iron Man, the boss of Iron Legion, when I was working with SI. He, uh, he had some problems with my boss and I guess decided one day that he was going to settle it once and for all."
"The reactor blast,” Steve chimed in and Knight nodded jerkily.
"Yeah, that,“ he took a stuttering breath, "Stane told his employees to leave him alone in the research basement and asked just a few of us engineers to help him work on one of our oldest projects, the Arc Reactor. One of us, Doctor Yinsen, said that we couldn’t weaponize the reactor’s energy since it went against the oldest policy set by Mr. Stark -"
"Anthony Stark? I thought he was dead in that jet crash over Afghanistan?,” Steve frowned and Knight laughed humourlessly.
"Oh he died alright,“ he shook his head ,"but not before sending an announcement through his PA, Ms. Virginia, that the arc reactor project’s weapons section would be shut down. Virginia spoke about it to Stane but…I guess they had some altercation. Anyway, Virginia was fired the same day and Stane never made the announcement public."
"But Yinsen knew about it,” Steve surmised, now engrossed in the story.
"Yes, he had been close to Stark and he knew about it,“ Knight sounded sadly fond when he spoke before his voice grew bitter, "He told Stane that he was going against the policy set by Stark but Stane was adamant. He fired Yinsen and then dragged him out of the basement when the man wouldn’t leave. We all…well, we never saw Yinsen again, so I assume Stane threw him out for good.”
"How did Iron Man know about this?“
"I’m not sure,” Knight shook his head, “We were working on the reactor and transferring its energy into a miniaturized core Stane had arranged when Stane got a call and he took it.”
Knight took a deep breath and looked Steve in the eye.
“Stane looked like he’d heard a ghost, Mr. Rogers,” he said in a hushed voice, “Nobody had ever seen Obadiah Stane lose control but that day he almost did. He said just two words before rushing out of there like a bat out of hell."
"What were the words?” Steve asked and Knight’s mouth twisted.
"Iron Man" he said and ran a hand over his face, “I didn’t see anything else till the ceiling broke and Stane fell into the reactor, burning to a crisp. But as we all ran from there, I stumbled on the miniaturized core and before I could do anything with it, I felt someone hold my shoulder."
"That day I looked into the eyes of Iron Man, Mr. Rogers,” Knight said in a haunted voice, “I see those eyes in my nightmares every night. Those lifeless, piercing blue eyes. They had no soul. No emotion in them. It was like staring into a dead man’s face. Cold. Robotic.”
“And you can identify him?” Steve pressed on.
"In my sleep,“ Knight said confidently. "I remember him like I remember my own face."
"That’s good,” Steve declared and reached down into his pocket to bring out the declaration form he had brought with him, “I’m really glad that you finally decided to come out, Mr. Knight. This will help us more than you could know."
"Of course,” Knight smiled a bit before eyeing Steve curiously, “May I ask a question though?"
"Why do you want to catch Iron Man so much?"
"I mean,” Knight shrugged a bit, “apart from him being a mob boss and such, why do you want to catch him? What do you see wrong in him?"
"Everything,” Steve answered as he found the form and brought it out, “He’s a threat."
"Freedom,” Steve replied and shook the paper open, offering it to Knight, “Iron Man and his gang are a threat to the freedom of people. They’re selfish, uncaring about those who fight for the good, and unworthy of their power."
"Really?” Knight asked as he read through the form, “And who decides that?”
"The part about them being a threat to freedom,” Knight began pacing as he read the form with a small frown, “You said they’re a threat to the freedom of people, right? Which people? The ones who threaten the freedom and lives of others or those who are threatened every day? And why are they selfish or unworthy of their power?"
"Because they break the law at their whims,” Steve frowned, suspicious at the turn of the conversation.
"The law?“ Knight stilled and laughed lightly, "You think that the law is worthy, Officer Rogers? That wearing a blue uniform makes people right while wearing a suit makes someone wrong? The law shoots those who hold a gun, Officer. Is that still right if the one holding the gun was just someone trying to save his family from a seemingly weaponless man with power? The law questions based on things they see, but do they ask the real questions about what they saw? You speak about freedom, but you don’t tell me who’s freedom you protect."
"Iron Man doesn’t ride in cars with sirens, Rogers,” Knight smirked sharply, eyes glinting, “and his team doesn’t wear medals of honour to parade. And yet, he managed to stop a war monger while the law seeks to protect men like Stane.”
"Who are you?“ Steve asked and pulled out his gun, training it on the man in front of him.
"The one you’ve been looking for,” the man grinned and in one swoop, came closer to whisper, “And the one you’ll never stop chasing."
Steve was about to pull the trigger when the man whistled and Steve realized quite late that he had been lured into the warehouse on purpose. An explosion from behind him, pushed Steve forward and made him lose his balance. The other man moved away but not before Steve’s outstretched hand caught hold of his hip and ripped the shirt when he fell. He tried clutching at the waist of the man but the flashlight had been knocked out and Steve was stumbling into the ground.
He heard a gasp though and felt his own hands burn when the man slipped through his fingers.
"Run!” a new voice yelled, before Steve could get up and run behind the source of the sound
"Not without you!” strong fingers clutched at the sides of his face and a warm but bloody mouth pressed against his lips ,“Not without you, beloved!"
"Live or die, we do it together, my heart,” another kiss was pressed into his mouth and he felt the heartbeat of his dearest in that second.
"Together,“ he whispered even as they heard the yells of the soldiers geowing louder behind them
Steve heard the sounds of barrels falling and snapped out of the strange flash of a weird haze.
"Odinson! We’ve got runners!” he yelled into his comm and scrambled to his feet, feeling shakier than a normal fall should warrant.
As he chased out of the warehouse, into an empty lot, Steve felt a mixture of remembered sorrow and regret meld with a present fury and betrayal.
His palm tingled as he tried to block out the memory of a bloody kiss and the sight of warm brown eyes.
He had failed. Steve didn’t know why he felt like it wasn’t the first time.
AU where Asa is a warframe, but he’s not being controlled by operator, he’s an alien/robot.
And for Naomi, she works in strata relay as a mechanic (sometimes she repaired his ship) and helping asa during his mission, but when she wanted to find some parts she ask some help to Asa.
And ofcourse, they are dating
You shot your husband a look, raising your brows before chuckling on how he is.
“Are you feeling contractions?”
“Harry, we talked about this.”
“I know, I know.”
He motioned you to stand up very gently, with his finger, complying to what he requested and assisting you to by holding your arms, sitting on the spot you were sat on before carefully pulling you down to his lap.
Both Harry and you aren’t going to lie; this is your favorite. You sitting on his lap and leaning on his chest, his hands resting on top of your pregnant bumo and his chin resting on your shoulder.
“I already told you that it could take me 40 weeks; 10 months before I give birth.”
He whined, his lips brushing against your shoulder which you loved.
“But baby, you’re already 38 weeks along.”
“And you’re impatient, H.”
“I really want to see her already.”
Your hand stroked Harry’s hair out of habit and for his comfort, letting out a hum of appreciation go noticed.
“So do I, love. But we need to wait.”
There’s eagerness and joy in Harry’s voice that made you smile and laugh in an instant, making his cheeks warm up.
“There’s something about this day, love. I can feel it.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“Because maybe it’ll pressure your water to break already!” he exclaimed, smiling when he saw you laugh so giddily.
“How can you pressure my water to break?”
He grinned, his face nuzzled on your neck, a reply popping into his head, making him chuckle from thinking of it.
“Say that it’s a disgrace to it’s family and purified water all the way.”
“Oh my god,” you said in between your laughter, your cheeks reddening in whether how bad or good it is.
“It was good. Admit.”
“It’s good,” you complied, putting your hands on top of Harry’s.
“Do we have anything she needs that’s missing?”
“I think not.”
“Well we already have mittens, right? We bought newborn diapers a week ago, we have lots of onesies. What else?”
Harry inquired seriously which made you think, his finger drawing figures on your large bump.
“We have a crib. Bonnets, blankets, pillows. We agreed to not have pacifiers and teethers since they don’t help. Our mums told us not to too.”
“’S our bag ready?”
“I’m sure you packed it last night.”
“’S she coming out yet?”
“Fine,” he replied, knowing that he’s not going to give up on asking you, letting him massage your hands and press little kisses on your neck.
There’s comfortable silence at the moment, Harry’s inquired from what he heard, what he read, what you feel and what you saw making you think.
It made you think that you’re as eager to see your baby girl as Harry is. That how it differs from some having to give birth early and not, some having their water break before having contractions and not, some being dilated early.
“I know what we forgot.”
“What did we?” you chuckled from Harry’s excited tone.
Your mouth fell slightly agape at the realization that the both of you genuinely forgot to get one.
“I’ll tell Gemma to get one now. She loves going to baby stores as much as we do.”
He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants, a knowing look on his face.
“Love, sit on the other couch. I’m preventing you fron radiation as much as possible.”
You rolled your eyes, saying ‘fine’ before slowly standing from his lap, your hand on his knee as support before gently walking to the other couch, hearing Harry talk to Gemma who immediately answered the call.
As you did and maybe not coincidentially, you felt wetness on your lower torso, the water seamlessly coming down your legs with ease.
Your eyes widened on the fact that your water broke, turning around to a wide-eyed and paling Harry who looks like a mix of excitement and shock, mouth agape and phone lowered down on the fact that your water just broke.
Imagine your OTP in a fencing match. Person A is a right-handed fencer who is cocky, and skilled with the blade. But by their next bout, they are soundly defeated for one simple reason: they have never fenced a left-handed person before, and Person B has many tricks.