Things Dick Grayson has Definitely Done at Some Point
- ordered a Kid’s Meal at McDonald’s for the Nightwing toy
- broke into a zoo just to ride the elephant
- broke down completely at Mufasa’s fall during The Lion King because it reminded him of his parents’ deaths
- took Damian to an ice cream shop while still in their Batman and Robin attire
- won second place at a Nightwing Butt Lookalike competition
- sang Do You Want to Build a Snowman to Jason
- attended Nickelodeon’s Kid’s Choice Awards despite being a 22 year-old man at the time
- donated $3,000 to a charity because the kitten on the pamphlet looked sad
- ran out of underwear and was forced to wear his old scaly Robin panties
- “borrowed” Barbara’s wheelchair to ride around the skate park
- dedicated an entire day to seeing how many paper clips he could fit into Damian’s hoodie without him noticing (it was 296)
- felt lonely so he rode around on poor Tim’s back for a whole day
- got bored on patrol so he snuck into a stranger’s apartment to watch cartoons
- became the Kim Kardashian of Gotham
- tripped over a peanut and fell into a puddle
- got his mullet caught in a car door
- caught his toaster on fire when he put spaghetti in it
- put glue in his ear to see what would happen
- did his trapeze act at the park to entertain some seven year-olds
- did a performance of Romeo and Juliet with the Titans at a community theater while in their costumes and everything (“Kid Flash, Kid Flash, wherefore art thou Kid Flash?” “What light, through Titan’s Tower breaks? It is the east, and Starfire is the sun”)
- played Twister for an hour without breaking a sweat
Here it is, special dedication for that anon who specifically hates cliche marichat balcony scenes. I wrote one at least.
Tagging @baneismydragon who apparently has a throne of Marichat cliches like wow I’m jealous. And it is also for everybody who was super sweet with me yesterday, thank you guys, I love you all <3
Side note: Juliette is the French version of Juliet so no, it isn’t a typo.
Marinette paced from one end of her balcony to the other, while glaring at the papers in her hands. It was well past midnight and she could be seeping just like Tikki was doing at the moment, in her comfortable bed. But no, she was out, repeating the lines for the stupid play. Why did she let Alya convince her she should be in it. Ah, screw that, why did she let Alya convince her she should try for Juliette’s part out of all things. Why was the school doing a Romeo and Juliette anyway? Did they run out of French plays? And even if they had to do it, couldn’t they do the modern version? Which didn’t require excentric old words no one used anymore?
Marinette groaned exasperatedly, before trying another line. Trying to sound sad she recited.
“The only man I love is the son of the only man I hate! I saw him too early without knowing who he was, and I found out who he was too late! Love is a monster for making me fall in love with my worst enemy.”
Marinette let her shoulders drop. That sounded lame even to her ears. Honestly, how was she supposed to make that sound sincere? She was a bad actress, she knew it. The only way she could pull off that line was if Adrien’s father was Hawkmoth or something. Which was ridiculous, of course. Honestly, she should just give up on this, Alya would get over it.
“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliette is the sun.”
Marinette turned around, startled to see Chat Noir on the chimney. With all the feline grace he possessed, he jumped on the lower one. Marinette was wonderstruck when she noticed his look. He seemed to be really into it.
“Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. Be not her maid since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, and none but fools do wear it. Cast it off!” Marinette watched flabbergasted as Chat tip toped on the side, careful to not kick her plants while gesticulating wildly, emotion raw in his voice. Extending his hand towards her, he continued. “It is my lady. Oh, it is my love.”
Marinette almost yelled in panic as Chat Noir let himself fall over the edge, but stopped just in time when she heard his voice continuing with the lines. Her eyes trailed across the railing of the balcony as she followed the sound of his voice. And just then Chat appeared again over the railing.
“As daylight doth a lamp. Her eye in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing and think it were not night.” Marinette stood frozen in amazement as Chat stepped towards her. She was captivated and she wouldn’t even bother lying. It was impressive. Not only the fact that her dear partner knew the whole damn monolog of Romeo, but also the way he recited it. It truly made her feel like she was watching one of the most skilled actors putting on a show just for her.
“See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand.” Marinette looked up in surprise as Chat leaned towards her, his next words being whispered. “ That I might touch that cheek.” one gloved finger caressed her cheek gently.
“Oh, my.” Marinette wasn’t even sure if it was her gasping that out loud. Chat got awfully close, but she didn’t mind it, not quite. Marinette realized, she didn’t quite appreciate how nice Chat’s eyes were, even with the cat-like look, they were complementing beautifully his blond hair. She leaned in without really realizing. Not until she captured his lips.
Chat melted against her. It was so much better than that kiss on Valentine’s Day. It was no rush to break a curse or run to detransform. And she could appreciate so much better the softness of his lips and the faint taste of mint. Chat wrapped one arm around her waist bringing her closer. Marinette sighed against his lips. She felt warm and it was such a simply pleasant sensation, their lips against each other.
Marinette let out a grunt of annoyance once they broke apart. It took them a couple of seconds to stare at each other before they jumped away. It finally seemed to drown on them what they had done.
“I got a little… um.”
“And you were…”
“And you just…’
They both rubbed their necks awkwardly, while glancing at each other. Marinette decided she won’t let the awkwardness ruin this night which just took a wonderful turn.
“Do you… do you want to stay for milk and cookies?” she glanced at Chat, waiting for his response.
He smiled shyly, a little blush appearing on his cheeks. “I’d love to.”
Synopsis: Imagine the morning after Bucky returns from a mission.
AN:I plan on writing a few more of these so if you enjoy reading them please like, reblog, post a comment all that great stuff! Thanks for reading! x
He usually arrives sometime in the middle of the night. Exhausted and worn, he’d shrug off his combat gear at the door. With the last of his conserved energy, he’d slip into the shower, washing away the dirt and burden of the mission.
In 1815, the eruption of Mount Tambora plunged parts of the world into darkness and marked a gloomy period that came to be known as The Year Without a Summer. So when Mary and Percy Shelley arrived at the House of Lord Byron on Lake Geneva, their vacation was mostly spent indoors. For amusement, Byron proposed a challenge to his literary companions: Who could write the most chilling ghost story? This sparked an idea in 18-year-old Mary. Over the next few months, she would craft the story of Frankenstein.
Popular depictions may evoke a green and groaning figure, but that’s not Mary Shelley’s monster. In fact, in the book, Frankenstein refers to the nameless monster’s maker, Dr. Victor Frankenstein. So tense is the struggle between creator and creature that the two have merged in our collective imagination.
The book traces Dr. Frankenstein’s futile quest to impart and sustain life. He constructs his monster part by part from dead matter and electrifies it into conscious being. Upon completing the experiment, however, he’s horrified at the result and flees. But time and space aren’t enough to banish the abandoned monster, and the plot turns on a chilling chase between the two.
Shelley subtitled her fireside ghost story, “The Modern Prometheus.” That’s in reference to the Greek myth of the Titan Prometheus who stole fire from the gods and gave it to humanity. This gave humanity knowledge and power, but for tampering with the status quo, Prometheus was chained to a rock and eaten by vultures for eternity. Prometheus enjoyed a resurgence in the literature of the Romantic Period during the 18th century. Mary was a prominent Romantic, and shared the movement’s appreciation for nature, emotion, and the purity of art. The Romantics used these mythical references to signal the purity of the Ancient World in contrast to modernity. They typically regarded science with suspicion, and “Frankenstein” is one of the first cautionary tales about artificial intelligence. For Shelley, the terror was not supernatural, but born in a lab.
In addition, gothic devices infuse the text. The gothic genre is characterized by unease, eerie settings, the grotesque, and the fear of oblivion - all elements that can be seen in “Frankenstein.” But this horror had roots in personal trauma, as well. The text is filled with references to Shelley’s own circumstances. Born in 1797, Mary was the child of William Godwin and Mary Wollstonecraft. Both were radical intellectual figures, and her mother’s book, “A Vindication of the Rights of Women,” is a key feminist text. Tragically, she died as a result of complications from Mary’s birth. Mary was haunted by her mother’s death, and later experienced her own problems with childbirth. She became pregnant following her elopement with Percy at 16, but that baby died shortly after birth. Out of four more pregnancies, only one of their children survived. Some critics have linked this tragedy to the themes explored in “Frankenstein.” Shelley depicts birth as both creative and destructive, and the monster becomes a disfigured mirror of the natural cycle of life.
The monster, therefore, embodies Dr. Frankenstein’s corruption of nature in the quest for glory. This constitutes his fatal flaw, or hamartia. His god complex is most clear in the line, “Life and death appear to me ideal bounds which I should first break through and pour a torrent of light onto our dark world.” Although he accomplishes something awe-inspiring, he has played with fire at his own ethical expense. And that decision echoes throughout the novel, which is full of references to fire and imagery that contrasts light and dark. These moments suggest not only the spark of Prometheus’s fire, but the power of radical ideas to expose darker areas of life.
Request from anon:
Can I request one where Bucky & his gf spend the night together the first time and he’s being super snuggley the morning after? He teases her cause she smells like cupcakes cause she owns the bakery where they first met. I love stories where he falls for an ordinary girl. They’re always so fluffy!
Bucky x Reader
Warnings: None really. There is implied smut but none of it is written out.
Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine so all credit goes to their creators <3
They had never been the first thing on Bucky’s mind and given the choice between them and some fresh fruit from the market he would be happy to admit that he was much more likely to go for the latter rather than the former. However that all seemed to change the day he had been forcefully dragged into a bakery by Steve.
He seriously needed to show that punk what ‘a fun outing’ should consist of because in normal society that definitely wasn’t it.
Summary: (College!AU): In which an impromptu performance of Shakespeare occurs at the foot of your stairs.
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 1,558
A/N: @snugglebuck requested: Omg so I just say this prompt list and one of them was “i was on my balcony and you started loudly quoting romeo and juliet at me” and all I could think about was ALIL and Bucky doing this or like even when the reader is at the top of a staircase and like even better when he’s drunk or something. This takes place between “The Honeymoon Phase” and “Jealousy”
@avengerstories - I can’t thank you enough for always editing my stuff for me.
After what felt like an endless day of classes, you decide to treat yourself to a night off. In order to fully enjoy yourself, you change into the coziest pajamas you can find and take all of your best snacks out of hiding. Once you’ve gotten everything you need in order, you close the door to your room and turn off the lights. The darkness adds to the overall movie theater atmosphere that you want to create for your night of Netflix and relaxation.
You’re halfway through your second movie when your door flies open. The bright light from the hallway is a shock to your system and you cover your eyes automatically, blindly searching for the space bar on your laptop to pause what you’re watching. “What?”
ripping off the band-aid, walking through a forest, being center stage, police sirens, fingernails tapping against a desk, boiling water, a sunflower field.
chocolate melting, the ticking sound of a clock, blanket forts, sliding across a wooden floor in your socks, using sticks as swords, sunsets from the hood of a car.
the scent that follows after you blow out a candle, how handwriting is like a voice, your first visit to a haunted house, a rigid spine, the sound of crunching leaves, church bells.
holding hands in a hospital, lemonade on the hottest day of the year, a psychic’s parlor, sage & lavender & vanilla, hot air balloon ride over the city, windmills.
city life at night, an acid trip, paint splattered at the wall, bubblegum, a one-way ticket, broken mirrors.
fireflies in the summer, back of the class, pacing & the click clack of high heels, bleach, waves crashing, sun kissed skin.
when the couple says “i do”, lucky charms, bonfires, finger painting, blowing kisses, ballet shows, sugar on the tip of your tongue, outstretched palms in the wrong direction.
being stuck at the top of a ferris wheel, wind in your hair during a midnight car ride at 90 mph, skin on skin, magnets on the refrigerator, a ceiling fan in the dead of night, sticky notes, foxes in the bushes.
jet lag, a wolf howling, bad puns, five star restaurants, burning your tongue, chipped nail polish, walking barefoot through the mud, tree houses.
a loaded gun, the first snow fall of the year when everything is still and silent, the first breath after a panic attack, sun showers, the dreamy state when you’re running on no sleep, candy land, breaking through the surface.
cracking open a fortune cookie, city lights in the rain, scissors & wrapping paper, bats in caves, sneaking out for the first time, watching the sunrise with your best friends, a wildflower breaking through the cracks of a sidewalk.
a canoe on the lake at dawn, wind chimes, spring, hundred year old trees, jazz music & feather boas, dream journals, glitter eye-shadow, art museums.
Just write a poly involving were-any-large-carnivores and it will be bought. You know this to be true.
Is this your way of telling me to write werewolf vampire porn? Cause if it is I’m 100% down with this.
Also now all I have in my head is a vampire and a werewolf who love each other despite clan feud wars and they meet in secret on moonlit nights. I could be the Shakespeare of our time.
“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” “It’s the dawn, Vlad, you idiot. Get away from the window you know you’re not supposed to be up at this hour.” “You have no poetry in your soul.” “At least I have a soul.” “You are so grumpy in the morning.” “NO SHIT, I’M A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT, VLAD.” “I love ruffling your fur.” “I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL SHED ON EVERYTHING YOU LOVE, COME AWAY FROM THE WINDOW RIGHT NOW”
A/N: THIS IS 7000 WORDS LONG, WTH! Hi babes, I know this took far too long but it’s here now. I was actually crying earlier thinking about how this is the ending, the final chapter, the last part. Thus far this is my favorite fic I have written. I wanted to thank @writing-obrien for helping me soooo much with this series. She’s always there when I need to bounce around ideas or get motivated or just talk. She is my best friend and I love her and this series would be nothing without her. I also wanted to thank everyone that has read this and loved it! I’m so grateful for you ! I think that all I have to say so thank you so much, I love you so much okay? bye !
Warning: Uhhhhh it wouldn’t be an ending without some smut right? There’s also so alcohol use so yeah.
Story Summary: To help Steve feel a little less lonely on Valentine’s Day, you and the guys plan out a day of fun. However, this outing becomes something so much more than a day with friends when feelings are revealed [Part of the Friends Like Ours one shot series].
Word Count: 2.8k
A/N: I’m really sorry about the wait and I’m sorry if I forgot to tag anyone in this! It’s been a while. Just to let you know, this one shot also refers back to the events of People Will Say.
“Hey Steve,” Bucky greeted with a smile as the blond entered the kitchen, you and Sam also giving your respective greetings with the hopes that he’d actually say something this time around.
Instead, you all earned another frown in response while he grabbed a bottle of water and a granola bar before heading back to his room, closing the door. You sighed and wondered what’s wrong with your friend. Over the past couple of days, Steve has been acting strange and distanced himself from everyone, limiting his responses with frowns and sighs. You had no working theories as to why he was behaving that way, but Sam and Bucky had an idea.
“i do apologize for the theatricality, juno,” says a man who has never once in his entirely life even considered not being as theatrical as possible in any given situation (including, maybe two hours before, breaking into juno’s apartment probably through the window, turning off all the lights, leaning himself alluringly against a shelf or something & waiting in the dark for god knows how long for juno to get home) and who definitely does not feel the need to stop and apologize for it
A/N : For my first ever Harry one shot, I hope this is good and does ‘From The Dining Table’ justice.
Word Count : 1700+
Summary : Harry sees a picture of Y/N on her new boyfriends Instagram, and it breaks his heart.
* * *
Light cascades through the half turned blinds, torching the room inside and revealing tiny dust particles dancing around Harry’s head. Behind his translucent eyelids he stirs as a disgruntled huff escapes his chapped, raw lips and the sour taste and smell of alcohol and cheap, sweaty sex floods Harry’s nostrils before he’s taken his first breath.
Sea dragn Hanzo saving pirate McCree from a shipwreck and adding him to his hoard :)))))
When he awoke, all he could taste was salt and blood.
Jesse coughed hard, curling on his side as sea water poured from his lips, gagging hard as he struggled for air. His body burned and ached all over as he sucked in breaths, mind shaking and numb as it struggled to come to its senses. All he could register was the cold and the pain, until slowly the ringing in his ears faded as his lungs began to work again. He continued to breath hard, though he tried to take in his surroundings and remember his situation.
What had happened? He tried piecing together the night before until suddenly it all came back to him, jerking upright. Captain Reyes, that son of a bitch. He was McCree’s number one enemy on the seas, a sea bandit hired by the Crown to put an end to the piracy problem that was running rampant in His majesty’s oceans. The mother fucker had smashed into Jesse’s ship and set the thing on fire, leaving her to sink beneath the waves with Jesse stranded along with it. He had barely been able to leap overboard in time before the whole thing exploded and disrespected into the dark water, the Deadlock forever gone to the sea. He remembered floating for hours, calling to his men who never appeared, in the blackness that was the open ocean at night, before giving into exhausting and embracing death.
Though death had never come, it seemed. Where he was now was a mystery, and how he got there even more of one. The pirate rose to his feet wearily, his long coat and clothes still soaked, and did an inventory check. He still had his Peacekeeper, but his hat was missing, which made him curse in annoyance. His jewelry, the heavy gold rings he had a habit of wearing on each finger, were gone as well. When had that happened, he wondered as he checked his surroundings. He appeared to be in a cave of some sort, on a rocky outcropping in the center of sea water. Only a few tiny streams of light shone down from above, breaking through the rocky ceiling in thin beams that made the whole room glow gold. The golden glow made him raise an eyebrow, and as he ventured to the edge of the rock on which he stood, he saw its cause and nearly fell into the water from shock.
The entire sea floor of the cave was coated in gold; gold coins, gold statues, chests over flowing with jewelry and goblets and gems that shined through the crystal clear water. McCree could make out suits of armor, gloves, rolls of tapestries, all growing lichens and mollusk, but still shining brightly beneath the waves. It was almost too much for the Pirate to take in; in all his years and all his adventures, Captain McCree had never seen this much gold. He had just a mind to strip off his clothes and dive in, until he heard the splash from behind him.
He spun around in an instant, drawing Peacekeeper and firing without a second thought. Yet the weapon only gave a resounding thud as the hammer fell on wet gun powder. Jesse was glad it had. For before him, peaking out from the water, he could see two dark glowing eyes. A pool of long dark hair flowed around them, hindering his view of what was beneath it, but he didn’t have to see to know. He’d been a sailor long enough to know eyes like that; eyes with slits for pupils that glowed like the moon.
Life isn’t a walk in the park, it will rain. It will pour. You will hurt and you will scar.
We are all wounded in some way, shape or form. Some worse than others, whether it be emotionally damaged or physically damaged. That doesn’t make anyone more or less hurt than anyone else.
Everyone has their story and each and every story matters. We may have been victims at one point in time but that doesn’t mean that is your title forever.
Life is full of experiences. Each and every one is a lesson to be learned to help you grow in this temporary life.
Stop picking at your scabs and opening your wounds, it’s causing you to bleed time and time again.
The healing process takes time, some longer than others but don’t fall into that endless pit of self pity and self loathing. That is when you begin to make yourself fall victim to your own self, only causing you to stray away from any possible growth.
The sun will come out, dry you and begin the growing process. Accept the past storms and storms to come, yes at the time of struggle no one will smile and enjoy it.
Adaptation is key. You will never stay the same, oh no, there is always going to be change. You may have the same foundation as before but you have had to rebuild many times.
Stop building the same way, modernize yourself. Yes, easier said than done. It’s not going to be easy to leave your comfort zone.
Maybe you need that walk in the park, when its pouring rain to make you slip up and get hurt. It may just teach you a lesson that new paths are the way out of the self pity and self loathing.
You may find yourself realizing that life is too short to live that way, running in the direction of the storm. You never allowed the sun to shine, you kept building while it was raining.
The storms will pass, allow yourself time to process things. When you see those warm rays of light begin to break through the cloudy skies, know that the sun is coming.
Have hope, for just one second, breathe; Exhale all of that pain you carry around. Embrace the sun when it gives you light, you must trust the strength built on those sunny days when the sun is nowhere to be found when it’s dark, cloudy and pouring rain.
What you build will be destroyed, rebuild it, remaster it and prepare for more.