It pisses me off so much how in the books Parvati and Lavender are just pidgeon-holed as ‘fashion obsessed hair heads’ for most of the books?
I mean, they might not be, but that was the impression pre-teen!me got from reading the books?
And now I’m all … okay, okay Hermione is awesome and we all know it.
But that doesn’t mean Lavender and Parvati are stupid just because they are geared differently from Hermione.
Fashion is hella hard and it requires a lot of memorization and attention to detail? And honestly Lavender and Parvati seem to be pretty nice people, in the little glimpses we get of them?
And all I want is Harry, following the Weasley without getting noticed (because he is used to sneaking around without disturbing people or attracting their attention, owing to the Dursley for that) and getting through the barrier and on the train.
And Lavender’s father helping him out with his baggage, jokingly asking him to keep an eye on his little girl? You seem like a good lad, my Lavender is the most beautiful girl, I need a strong gentleman to keep an eye out until she gets to Hogwarts and she starts to learn magic, so are you up to it?
Which is, of course, not true. Lavender has been going to self-defense lessons for years.
But the man noticed that this was a little kid with no parents around, looking all alone.
He thought 'hey, maybe I can stick him with my kid and they’ll make friends’
(btw, as Lavender is not, as far as I know, confirmed as pureblood in canon, I am going with half-blood or muggleborn for her, I’m thinking muggleborn for this specific AU?)
And Lavender is all “Daddy!” and apologizing to Harry for her dorky dad the moment he is out of the door.
And very nicely avoiding to comment on his clothes because she knows how it feels to be conscious of how your clothes look on you and it’s clear to her eyes that the way Harry is dressed he is probably from some orphanage or something because those are huge hand me downs.
(Because fuck you 90s, being fashion conscious doesn’t mean you are an elitist bitch).
And her parents are looking at her from the Platform and instead of asking about Harry’s life, not wanting to put him on the spot, Lavender waves to them and starts talking to Harry all “Those are my parents, they are so fascinated with the idea of magic and what I will learn at Hogwarts, I can’t wait to write to them all about the castle. My dad works in an office as an accountant and my mother has a column in –” Insert popular teen magazine for 90s UK.
And Harry is a bit overwhelmed but Lavender isn’t staring at him, she is not forcing him to talk and she looks nice.
So he kind of starts to tell her about the Dursely y'know, not like he did with Ron about how terrible they are, but about Vernon working for Grunnings (Lavender giggles and says 'Oh I am so sorry but it just sounds like a really silly name? Grunnings.’ and she tries to stretch the word a bit and Harry laughs a little and says yes, because it does sound silly the way she’s saying it, he just had never thought about it. 'I think it’s Swedish or something’ he offers and Lavenders nods sagely because yes, that makes sense) and how Petunia lives at home and reads all sort of gossipy papers, but not teen ones so sorry, he has never seen Lavender’s mom’s column.
And then the door to their compartment open and Parvati and Padma’s mother (I don’t know if they are pureblood but I’m headcanoning them as pureblood for this one) politely asks if there’s space for two more girls and when Lavender and Harry, after looking at each other, agree, Madam Patil levitates their trunks in (much to the amazement of Harry and Lavender) and settles them above and then guides her daughters in.
She introduces them, putting her hands on her shoulders, cautions her girls to not get wand-happy and wishes everyone a happy Hogwarts year and then leaves them there, going back to the Platform to join her husband and tell him how she left their daughters in the presence of Harry Potter.
“He looked dreadful. Hard up at the very least. I think you should look into his family situation. His clothes, at the very least, were terrible.” She murmurs, softly. “I am sure our girls will adopt him before the ride is over, so you should look forward to hearing about him in their letters.”
Her husband, who knows all about his beloved’s wife tendency to take people under her wing and adopt dangerous animals and fell in love with her for it (as well as for other qualities she has) because he’s very much the same, smiles fondly at her for the last bit and nods seriously at the first one.
It doesn’t matter who the boy is. Well it does, because Harry Potter of course, but it also doesn’t matter because no child should be mistreated.
Also it’s kind of strange that Harry Potter would look hard up, considering it’s common knowledge his parents left him handsomely provided for, full tuition to Hogwarts already paid.
Lavender gushes about how beautiful the Patil twins are, which immediately conquers Parvati, who gushes right back at Lavender’s sparkly accessories.
(Look, I might be wrong because this was the UK and not Italy, and if I am please let me know, but I was a child in the 90s, I bought italian teen magazines, sparkly shit taped to the cover under a plastic sleeve was the shit with fashionable people.)
Of course the moment Harry introduces himself, the Parvati twins try really hard not to goggle, though they do look at his scar, and then Parvati starts asking a storm of questions about where he grew up, whether the Harry Potter adventure books right about all he did since he was a child, if not that what did he do since beating You-Know-Who.
Harry 'Do you mean Voldemort?’ is greeted by soft gasps, right until Lavender asks 'Who?’ and then Parvati starts telling her all about the horrible Voldemort and how Harry and his parents saved them all from that monster.
Padma’s brain on the other hand is whirring and she is the one who reassures Harry that he will do just as fine as everybody else, when he says that.
Lavender and Parvati interrupt their convo because Lavender needs to assure to Harry that she’s muggleborn too, so they will have to learn together and he will be just on par with her, while Parvati explains that magical kids do get a leg up because some of them are allowed to practice at home but that really, she will make sure Harry is up to date with everything that is 'stupefy’ about the magical world.
At which point, Lavender asks what 'stupefy’ means and Padma explains that it’s the stunning spell, so don’t say it while pointing your wand at anyone and Parvati adds that it means, well, the most stunning things around.
(What? Wizarding children should have their own slang).
So by the point Hermione and Neville come by, the group as already made the first basic ties and while Neville is greeted and introduced by Padma and Parvati to the rest of the group, Hermione goes on fine right until she hears Harry’s name.
Padma and Parvati thinks it’s … whatever wizarding equivalent is there of gauche, that Hermione would throw that torrent of words at Harry and just … presume to know about him.
Lavender is just hella protective of her new friend.
Tightly knit protective of Harry formation is achieved in 0.2 seconds.
Neville, who has been around other pureblood children but has been condescended upon by most of them (not Padma and Parvati, given that Parvati will stick up for him later on, but still, it was a general tendency towards a potential squib) has found in Hermione one person who has been nice to him to the point of going out of her way to help him look for his embarrassing toad, so he gets protective of Hermione right back.
So basically, Parvati tells Hermione that she should not barrage people with informations like that, Neville replies timidly that Hermione didn’t mean anything bad, she just like quoting sources, Lavender tells Harry that he doesn’t have to worry, they’ll look up all that stuff when they get to Hogwarts, Hermione gets huffy because of course she didn’t mean anything bad, she just thought Harry would know about that stuff, Padma asks why Hermione would think that when Harry has been raised in the muggle world, Neville goggles at the news that Harry was raised in the muggle world.
It’s a mess.
And then Draco Malfoy arrives, because he’s been making the rounds of the train to look for Harry Potter (saying hi to family allies on the way).
I am not sure who says what to whom for most of the ‘chat’ but what I am sure of is that by the end of it, Neville and Hermione are going to be best friends forever and an united front against snobby purebloods, Padma has icily informed 'Mister Malfoy’ that she will be writing to her father about how low the raising standards of the Malfoy have fallen to produce Draco as a result, in response to a snipe Draco made about telling his father about the Patil twins and the rabble they are sticking with, Parvati has informed Crabbe and Goyle that she had not thought they were better than this but they definitely need to find themselves friends who don’t just treat them like dumb muscle and Lavender has vowed to herself that it doesn’t matter to her how cute Draco Malfoy is or how attractive his silver hair are she will spell his hair and robes to look like something an 80s hairband groupie would wear, just as soon as she learns the necessary spells.
To make it simple, battle lines have been drawn, metaphorical blood has been spilled on all sides and the Harry-Lavender-Parvati-Padma friendship has been set in stone.
Ron, if you are curious about him, found a compartment that had Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas in it and spent a really amazing first ride to Hogwarts.
They both made sure Dean knew how Gryffindor was the best house there ever is and then they explained Quidditch to him and became fascinated when Dean explained football (to americans: soccer) to them, especially once Dean started sketching out schemes and stuff.
There are too many players, but it looks like exactly the kind of team effort chasers have to put together only spread through eleven people and that’s just wow.
Boku No hero Academia Light Novel No.2 Translations
t/n: I overly underestimated the difference in Japanese syntax structure to that of English, and it was honestly so hard trying to translate it in a way where it’d make sense, but not stray too much from what the original writing was trying to portray?? idk but, nonetheless, I’ve come to discover my enjoyment through translating ^_^ though I’d just want to point out my Japanese is far from native, I’m terrible and have become absolute poop over the last couple months, so please when reading, please understand and excuse grammatical errors, mistakes etc.
I also want to mention that updates or translation won’t be frequent or anything :( as I’m doing this alongside my thesis atm, but will make the effort to update parts/chapters when I have time.
and last but not least, if you can, please try to refrain from reposting and, or at least credit this post! but yeah, thank you very much and I hope you enjoy! ^_^ <3
Based on the one word prompt “Party” sent in by @bailci (ty!!). Happy Valentine’s Day (especially to my fellow single people spending today with fictional people instead of real ones. you rock). You’re all wonderful and I love you all so much <3
Summary: When Nico reluctantly goes to a Valentine’s Day party with Hazel, she sets three rules for him to follow if he wants for her to agree to take him home after an hour. The first two are easy enough, but the third one poses a bit more of a problem, due to the fact that Nico really isn’t sure how the whole flirting thing is done.
“Alright, I have three rules,” Hazel announced as she parked the car.
Nico rolled his eyes. “I thought you promised tonight would be fun.”
“These are fun rules.”
“There’s no such thing.”
She leaned over to punch his shoulder, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. “Hush. Now, rule number one is that you have to actually try to enjoy yourself, okay? You’re not allowed to give up before you’ve started. Again, we can leave after an hour if you really don’t want to be here anymore but you have to try. Got it?”
Nico nodded resignedly.
“Good. Rule number two: Limit the alcohol.”
Nico raised his eyebrows. “And by that you mean no alcohol?”
Hazel sighed, biting her lip. “No, and if this doesn’t show you how desperate I am for you to have fun then I don’t know what will. But yeah, someone’ll have brought a keg or something and I’ve made the questionable decision to let you have some.”
“You know, last time I checked, I was the older one.”
She punched him again. “Yeah, but I’m the wiser one.”
He scoffed but let her continue.
“Right, so you’re close enough to twenty-one that I’m willing to turn a blind eye to you having a little to drink, but there’s no way you’re getting anywhere past tipsy, understand?”
She smiled at that.
“Alright, then. Rule number three, and this is an important one, Nico: I swear to God, if a cute boy starts flirting with you, you are absolutely required to flirt back.”
Nico frowned, pulling his jacket tighter around himself.
“Oh, don’t give me that look, you’re lucky I’m going easy on you.”
“Easy?” Nico asked, incredulously.
“Yes, if I were a little bit meaner then I’d require that you be the one to initiate the flirting.”
Nico just shook his head. “Fine, whatever.”
Hazel grinned, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Good! Let’s go!”
charlie essentially lives in the same few pairs of skinny jeans. he prefers looser tops and jumpers, as he’s quite self-conscious about being very slim. he’s most often seen in checked shirts, particularly when he’s younger, but when he gets a bit older, he wears that fur-collar denim jacket literally everywhere. his favourite shoes are a pair of battered yellow adidas originals. he doesn’t really have a favourite brand, and doesn’t go clothes shopping very often (he doesn’t enjoy it) but usually buys his clothes from topman. nick loves seeing him in baggy, oversized jumpers (especially when charlie hasn’t had a haircut for a while, a la the first outfit).
again, he’s 20/21ish here, whereas he’s only 14 at the moment in @heartstoppercomic. all the references are from the urban outfitters website!
A/N: Hey guys! I told you I would make something if I got a good response to “Dean’s New Nickname” and I decided to make a series! I really hope you guys like it and let me know what you think! Give me a follow, like/reblog if you love the first chapter so far!
t/n: I’d never expect I’d finish this chapter so soon, but nonetheless I hope everyone’s been enjoying it so far! In regards to next translations, I’ll be picking out chapters I feel are the most fun and would be most interesting for people to read, so I’ll be skipping a couple :( but with that being said, I’d probably go back to translate them at a later time in life (this goes for the first light novel too), So right now it’s a toss up between two chaps; a+b girls having a girly night and talking about which guys they’d date AND a+b boys arm wrestling and well… being boys ^_^ pls let me know if there’s one you’d like to read first, if not I’ll just randomly choose or smth.
but yeahhhh, once again thank you so much for reading!!!!
So I’ve heard about several people mentioning that they feel too masculine to be a femboy, despite their desire to become one and to fit into the stereotype of one and/or the culture. I just wrote a short thing today about the issue relating to that, and how one can do things to improve their look if that is truly what they desire, as well as how to come to terms with who you are, what you look like, and how it relates to being a femboy.
So say a man is really masculine. Like stereotypically masculine in terms of what modern society tends to envision. I’m talking the square jaw, hairy legs, broad shoulders, heavy-set eyes, big bushy brows, loads of body hair, big hairy feet, big hands… hell I could go on forever XD. You get the point. Let’s say there’s this one guy that has all of those attributes, but is not comfortable with them and wishes they were different. He wants to be a femboy, or at least embrace his feminine qualities to a certain degree. What does he do? He is self-conscious about wearing girl clothes or shaving his legs, or growing out his hair… and he doesn’t think that he would look good like that, so he doesn’t bother to change, despite how hard it is for him to try and cope with what he was born with. What should he do? This is a simple answer to a simple question.
The answer is always embrace yourself first. Don’t think about things too much. Act on what you know is going to allow you to feel true to how you were born. It is entirely understandable if a guy wants to appear effeminate but doesn’t feel he is capable of doing it. I myself feel similar at times. I’m an acrobat. I’m pretty damn buff, and I can’t wear everything that I would ever want without it barely fitting over my super broad shoulders. There are things one can do to make it easier though, if one feels the need to act. There is not always a need, but it depends on the person, and how dedicated they are to appearing a certain way. Below are a few tips to those of you who may be struggling with fitting into your idea of the stereotypically feminine aesthetic or the aesthetic/style of a femboy.
1. Completely shave all of your facial hair, wash with a soft soothing soap, and then apply a good quality moisturizer (preferably oil free, especially if you have issues with acne).
2. Grow your hair out and only shampoo once a week maybe two. You can go without shampooing for a long time. It sounds gross, but it’s better to do conditioner scrubs more often. Shampoo can be insanely damaging to your hair, especially in the long run, and you can preserve your hair and keep it free from split ends for several months if you take a break from all that shampooing. Conditioning more often will only strengthen your hair. Avoid dyes and heat as well. Wear a shower cap if you’re taking a shower and not conditioning or shampooing your hair. The less exposure your hair has to that degree of heat the better. If you take cold showers then you are fine. Just remember that if you want to grow you hair out really quickly. Stay completely natural, and then worry about doing crazy and colorful things to it after you have it at your desired length. You will likely regret it if you slow it down.
3. Shave your legs. Use plenty of shaving cream/conditioner/soap, or anything that works like a lubricant. Shave upwards against the hair to get the closet shave. Shave gently to avoid razor burn.
4. Learn how to correctly apply makeup that contours your face according to how it is uniquely shaped. With enough practice, contouring with makeup can transform your look to a point where you can look like an entirely different person. Make sure to use makeup that doesn’t irritate or promote acne. Good quality makeup will often be more expensive, but it will sometimes come in larger quantities and will likely be well worth the expense. You should learn how to correctly apply eyeliner, mascara, foundation, powder… all that stuff. You don’t need everything, but it is good to know how to use it all in case you ever feel like switching up your style a little bit. Makeup is like clothing. You can do so much with it, and you’d be amazed at how well you can change your entire appearance with just a few slight adjustments when you apply it. Watch YouTube tutorials on makeup. There are a gazillion tutorials relating to makeup, and many of them are quite good. I recommend Joseph Harwood. He is an androgynous makeup artist who is basically able to transform himself into anyone he wants through contouring, shading and a wide variety of other techniques relating to the art of makeup. He is AMAZING XD.
5. Pick clothes that contour to your body, and that give the illusion of a slimmer more curvy figure. A lot of this will take personal experimentation and finding the clothes that work for you. Ask around for help from people who are good with fashion and are willing to help you. You can always ask me though too.
Ask me any questions anytime! Sometimes I get insanely busy and it gets really hard for me to find time for social media. Sometimes I can’t get back for days and occasionally even weeks. Lol I know it sucks… but that’s what you get when you are trying to go to college, maintain a farm, work two jobs and record your music all at the same time, all the while living an hour and a half out of the city… But I will do my best to post stuff and answer questions as often as I can! I hope you all are doing well. There are plenty more posts to come. =^-^=
AN: The reader and Bellamy have had chemistry for quite a while, but when Bellamy realises the extent of his feelings, he gets angry.
Characters: Bellamy Blake
Pairings: Bellamy Blake x reader
Prompt: “Oh my gosh 28 is such a good line. Could you do that one with Bellamy?”
“I promised myself I wouldn’t let you complete me”
You were sick and tired of waiting. You felt like you’d spent your whole life waiting, waiting for your mother to notice you, waiting for the kids in school to accept you, waiting for the guards to catch you, waiting for Jaha to float you.
Well, you were on the ground now, and you weren’t waiting anymore.
So when you wanted food, you went and got it, when you wanted to talk, you made friends, when you wanted….company, you found some and, when you wanted adventure, you went to Bellamy Blake.
Right now, you wanted adventure.
“Bellamy,” you called in a sing song voice, “I’m bored, let’s go exploring.”
The rebel leader barely looked up from the map he was looking at.
“Not now Y/N, later.”
You stuck out your bottom lip and crossed your arms like a pouty child, “That’s what you said last time.”
Bellamy’s eyes met yours, and he gave you a reluctant smile, slowly pushing himself to his feet.
“You’re so, so annoying, you know that?” Bellamy smirked.
You gave the boy a victorious grin, “You love me.”
Bellamy just shoved you playfully and grabbed his gun.
“Well?” he called over his shoulder, “Are we going exploring or not?”
You were a mystery to Bellamy Blake, a million piece puzzle that he couldn’t quite put together. It infuriated the young leader to have someone so completely outside of his realm of understanding. He convinced himself that it was because it made you harder to control, but when the sunlight hit your hair and illuminated your smile, his conviction wavered ever so slightly.
“Bellamy, come on,” You called from just ahead of the dark haired boy, “we’re wasting sunlight.”
The boy smiled, “You got somewhere better to be?”
You turned and smiled at Bellamy, but didn’t answer, too wrapped up in the beauty of your surroundings to come up with a witty retort.
Bellamy nudged your shoulder with his own, “Come, on, I think I know somewhere you might like.”
You walked for twenty minutes along the riverbank, Bellamy’s eyes glued to the trees, alert in case of trouble. Beside him, you gasped, hitting the boy’s arm furiously with excitement.
“Oh my gosh Bellamy look!” You practically squealed, “It’s so beautiful!”
The older boy smiled, glad that the scene had made you smile. It was a simple rock pool situated next to a patch of springy, green grass on the edge of the woods, but for some reason, it had always reminded Bellamy of you. Maybe it was the rushing of the river, or the way the wind howled through the trees.
“Is it-is it safe to swim?” you asked.
Bellamy shrugged, “I hope so, I’ve been swimming here for a week.”
That was apparently all the encouragement you needed. Before Bellamy could think of being self-conscious, your clothes were off and you were waist deep in the water in nothing but a sports bra and your underwear. Bellamy shook his head at the sky, silently asking God why he insisted on testing Bellamy like this, before he gave in to temptation and stripped.
“Holy shit!” Bellamy cursed as he dived into the water, “Holy-it’s cold.”
You laughed, splashing water on the boy, “Wuss.”
Bellamy gasped at the cold and retaliated with a splash of his own, marvelling at the way the water hit you. He moved towards you, hoping to keep your arms from flinging more water his way.
“You’re such a tool,” you laughed, as the boy pinned your arms to your side, “you know that?”
“I’m a too?” Bellamy countered jokingly, “You started this. Not my fault you started a war you don’t know how to end.”
You smiled, almost sadly, “You started the war Blake, I was just continuing it.” You said with your voice almost a whisper.
Bellamy was suddenly acutely aware of the feel of your skin under his palms and the gentle pressure of your eyes locked with his.
“I wasn’t trying to start a war.” He replied, “I just wanted to be near you.”
Bellamy watched you lean forward, his heart pounding and his blood racing. Your lips brushed his, sending fire through Bellamy Blake’s veins. He’d wanted this for so long; he’d wanted you for so long that it felt surreal.
“You’re near me now.” You whispered, giving Bellamy a small smile.
Bellamy slammed his fist into the tree again and again, trying to punch the feeling of your lips on his out of his mind. Why had he let you in? Why had he fooled himself into thinking that something as stupid as love could happen on Earth? Why had he thought it would happen to him?
These questions burned in his veins, an elaborate charade to hide the one question he didn’t already have the answer to. Why had you left?
You’d had one afternoon. One amazing, mind blowing afternoon, where Bellamy, for the first time in months, had let himself go. He had let his mouth weave stories to you that he didn’t even know he remembered; his hands trace patterns on your skin that he hadn’t imagined for years and your words rush over him like a river that he couldn’t wait to drown in. You’d opened up to Bellamy and him to you. He’d thought everything was going well. Then you’d walked back to camp.
You’d dropped his hand and picked up your pace, leaving Bellamy, hurt and confused, to trail behind you. You’d avoided him like the plague ever since, not that he’d cared. Bellamy hit the tree again.
He didn’t care. He was Bellamy Blake; he could have any girl he wanted. He didn’t need you.
“Hey Bell,” he heard a voice behind him say sheepishly, “long time no see.”
Bellamy turned, your voice causing ecstasy and rage to course through him all at once.
“Fuck off Y/N.” He spat, stalking past you.
You sighed despairingly, “Bellamy wait,” You pleaded, “I’m sorry.”
“You know what?” Bellamy retorted, still angry, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I let you fool me into thinking I was something special to you. I know how your games work, I should’ve known I was just another time waster.” His voice was low as it dripped with venom.
The part of Bellamy that ached for your touch was shocked to see the tears that rolled down your perfect cheeks like liquid diamonds. He’d never seen you cry.
“You were special to me Bellamy! You are!” You said, your voice shaking with emotion, “I meant every single thing I said to you.”
“I promised myself I wouldn’t let this happen.” Bellamy whispered, his anger finally dissipating and being replaced by hurt, “I promised myself I wouldn’t let you complete me.” He wanted to walk away. He wanted to leave you behind to feel what he’d kept bottled up, but he couldn’t make himself move, “Why?” he finally whispered.
You shrugged, your shoulders shaking from your muffled sobs, “I was being stupid Bell. I didn’t want you to hurt me, so I hurt you first.”
“That’s not an excuse,” Bellamy started, “but I never would have done that.”
You gave him an incredulous look that was ruined by your tears.
“Don’t play innocent Bellamy. You play as many games as I do.”
“Not with you.” Bellamy said quietly, “Never with you.”
You stepped towards the boy, “I don’t want to play games with you. I want something simple and easy.” Tentatively, you took Bellamy’s hand, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn’t pull away, “I’m so sorry, Bellamy. I really am.” The boy looked at you, a million emotions clouding his already dark eyes, “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” you said, choking back another wave of tears, “I just wanted you to know that I really do care about you.”
You started to leave, gasping slightly when Bellamy pulled you close, pressing his hot lips to your cool ones. A million stars flashed behind your eyes as your body responded to his, now familiar, touch.
“I don’t want to be at war anymore.” Bellamy told you breathlessly, “I just want to be near to you.”
“We put stories back into clothing. Socially conscious, artisan made, comfortable boho chic pants for travel. Limited edition fabrics and timeless styles.” - MATTER
In a world more connected and aware than ever before, it’s refreshing to see a brand embrace real stories and real issues with real people and quality product.
Meet MATTER: a socially motivated lifestyle brand focusing on affordable luxury, thoughtful design and provenance to create travel wear with stories to tell. In the brands words, their mission is threefold - to foster designer-artisan collaborations, inspire consumers to value provenance and process, and pioneer industry change and sustainability for rural textile communities.
chubby!alistair getting self conscious about removing his clothes in front of his lover for the first time until they started to kiss him everywhere that he tried to keep in the shadows, starting with his belly, looking up with a smile to tell him that he was every bit as beautiful as they had known him to be
So in the comics Tailor said that RGB was "indelible", and when they gave him the 4 a rabbits foot for his hand, I noticed it seemed to change specifically into a glove. So does that mean that if we tried to put RGB into a dress it would revert back to his normal clothes? 0_0
at last, the most important and tragic question to be asked
Request: In honour of Tom Holland’s birthday, is it possible you could do a fan fiction in which the Avengers tease the reader about her feelings for Peter Parker? And in addition maybe some girly chats with Wanda and Nat that involves even more teasing?(You can choose whether the reader was already aware of her feelings or if she didn’t realize she liked/loved him until the Avengers said something about it) also they are both best friends before this discussion happened. I know you’ve kinda done things with this but I want more details! Also I adore all your stories and head canons and stuff!!!!!!!!!!!!
It was an unusually peaceful day at the tower.
Surprisingly, there were none of the usual explosions or loud arguments. It
seemed like everybody was too busy doing their own thing to be shouting at each
other. You were extremely grateful for this. The Avengers may have been older
than you, but they definitely didn’t act like it. You often had to break up petty
fights between your team members, whether it be about who had better hair or
the best fighting skills.
So, as you sat down at the table with your bowl
of cereal, you let out a pleasant sigh. Maybe, just maybe, you could have a
nice, quiet meal without any snarky remarks or food fights. Yes, that would be
perfect. As you scooped up a spoonful of soggy cornflakes from your bowl, you
heard the sound somebody entering the kitchen.
You glanced sideways, to see Tony, standing
there in all of his usual smug glory. You tried to ignore him, knowing that
smug Tony was never a good omen. From what you could see, he was wearing his
usual Ray Ban sunglasses (Even though he was indoors. You could never
understand that man), and his Black Sabbath shirt. With arms crossed, he strode
over to where you were sitting and pulled out a chair, promptly sitting on it,
still smirking at you.
“So, Y/n,” Tony said, lacing his fingers. “Parker, huh?”
You, who hadn’t really been listening (Whoops), simply nodded, savouring the sweet taste of your cereal. It had been so long since you had had a serene meal, and you really could not be stuffed letting Tony ruin it with his prying questions.
“Really?” the billionaire asked, still staring at you intently. “I didn’t think you were into the bumbling, dorky type.”
“Mhm,” you mumbled, mouth still full of cornflakes and milk. You still had no idea what Tony was saying. And quite honestly, you couldn’t care less. 95% of the time Tony said something, it was about how generous and amazing he was.
Tony kept on asking you questions, where your answers would usually be a grunt or a shrug. Every now and then, you caught on to the words ‘Peter,’ ‘Spider-boy’ and ‘I can’t believe it’. Tony, obviously dissatisfied by your unintelligible answers, stood up and exited the room with his usual dramatic flair. You were a bit weirded out, but you put it off as Tony just being his ordinary, nosy self. Hopefully the rest of your day wouldn’t be as weird as your morning had been.
But, of course, it only got stranger.
You punched the red boxing bag repeatedly. You
were in the training room, running, punching, kicking, climbing, repeat. Of
course, Tony being one who especially enjoyed extravagance, had installed a
heap of unnecessary equipment in the gym. Anti-gravity treadmills lined the
walls, some even hanging sideways on the walls for a bit of an ‘extra
challenge.’ You had tried running on one of the sideways treadmills, but,
unluckily for you, you only ended up with a severely bruised back. Some of the
equipment in there hadn’t even been invented for the public yet. And you
definitely did not want to try them out.
You continued to strike the poor bag over and
over again. You had nearly knocked the bag off its hook, when an arrow whizzed
past you so closely that you could feel the fletching graze over your ear.
“What the- “ you hissed, spinning around. Maybe
it was just you, but getting shot in the head by an arrow was not your idea of
Clint Barton, with his bow still aimed, folded
his arms, grinning at you. “Now, Y/n. Better not be caught using bad words.”
You stuck your tongue out at him, glaring in his
direction. “Then don’t aim your arrow at my head. I’d prefer to be alive in
time for lunch. What are you doing here anyway?”
Clint’s Cheshire cat smile grew even larger. “I
know your secret.”
You froze. Millions of thoughts raced around
your mind. Did he find out about your secret stash of pop tarts? Oh no, he
probably learned about the dead rat you put in Tony’s bedroom. Crap.
“What secret?” you said, blinking innocently.
“I know you like Parker. Peter Parker. The spider kid.”
Silence filled the air. The tension in the room was so thick you could have cut it with the knife. You gaped at the archer, your jaw hitting the floor. How… how did he know. How the hell had he found out. Yeah, sure, you found Peter attractive… and funny… and adorable… and dorky…
“What are you talking about?” you smirked warily, trying to recover from your moment of weakness.
Clint rolled his eyes, sass radiating off of him. “Kid, don’t even try lying. Mainly because you suck at it.”
You closed your gaping mouth, narrowing your eyes at Clint. “Alright, let’s say I do like Peter. How would you know?”
“I stalked you when I was in the vents.”
“Ow!” Clint whined, rubbing the back of his head. “What was that for?”
“That was for stalking me, you creep,” you grumbled, hitting his arm. “You tell anybody I like Peter, your arrows will die.”
Clint could only nod meekly as you strode out of the room.
You glanced around the corner, looking around
for any sign of human life. After your conversation with Clint, you didn’t want
anybody else asking you anymore awkward questions. You especially didn’t want
anybody else to know about your crush. Or, even worse, for Peter to find out.
Unfortunately for you, you were surrounded by a bunch of intrusive adults that
acted like pre-schoolers.
You had just about figured the coast was clear,
when a warm hand grasped your shoulder. You yelped slightly, whipping around in
a defensive stance. You were ready to break the neck of any intruder that had broken
into the Avengers Tower.
“Whoa, Tiger,” Natasha steadied, raising her
hands. “It’s just me. Calm down.”
“Nat,” you breathed, relieved. “What are you
Natasha crossed her arms (God, what’s up with all these Avengers always
crossing their arms?). “Why’ve you been avoiding everyone today?”
“W-what?” you stuttered, trying to recover from shock. You knew Natasha was a
super spy, but could she really tell you were trying to become invisible for
“Y/n, I’m a trained Russian elite spy. Do you really think I wouldn’t know you’re
trying to avoid everyone because you like the Parker boy?”
Darn. You knew Natasha was good, but not this good. First Tony, then Clint, and
now Natasha. Were you really that obvious about your crush? You hoped not.
“Sweetheart, come into my room,” Natasha smiled,
opening her door. “Let’s have a talk.”
You walked into the spy’s room, looking around. You could see Wanda, hovering
cross-legged in mid-air, beaming at you. You could tell the two women couldn’t
wait for you to spill the beans.
“Well,” you started, emotionally preparing yourself for a whole lot of drama. “Th thing is…”
Chilling on the couch, you let out a big huff.
Today, there had been too much drama for you to handle. At the start of the
morning, you had been foolish enough to think the day would be peaceful. Ha,
ha, ha, no. One of the disadvantages of being an Avengers. No peace, not ever.
Not even if you buried yourself in a hole on the other side of the world. The
Avengers would still manage to find you.
You picked up the TV remote, casually flipping
from channel to channel. You couldn’t be bothered to move from the couch. You
were wearing your ‘don’t give a crap anymore’ clothes. Meaning and old shirt
and old sweatpants. And also slightly old leftovers. Whatever.
You were just about to shove in another mouthful
of pepperoni pizza when somebody covered your eyes with their hands. “Guess
who,” the person behind you laughed.
Your body went rigid. No. No, no, no, no, no,
no, no. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. You turned around, praying to God
that it wasn’t who you thought it was.
“Hey, Y/n,” the one and only Peter Parker
You wanted to bury yourself in a hole. And
shrivel up and fade away into oblivion. You suddenly became self-conscious
about your old clothes and stinky pizza. Your face changed from thirty-two
different shades of red.
“Uh, Peter,” you said, rubbing the back of your
neck nervously. “What are you doing here?”
“Just thought I’d visit,” he chirped in his usual happy voice. “Mr Stark also
invited me as well.”
Tony, who had been casually sipping some alcoholic concoction, raised his glass
to you behind Peter’s back.
You smiled rigidly, trying to listen to Peter’s voice as you thought up of ways on how to strangle Tony when Peter left.
Thank you so, so much for 300 followers! Took me almost 5 hours to write this, but it was definitely worth it. I love you guys, and you all are what keeps the blog running!
Summery: Magnus rescued a very rare, very
pregnant witch from near death.
Jace is determined not to fall in love again after Clary cheated
on him in Idris, but who can resist the little Salem witch especially when the
clave has demanded that a Shadowhunter must raise the Witch’s child and
Alec….. well he really just wants some attention From his favourite Warlock.
Word Count: 1106
Warnings: spoilers!!!, Childbirth (non descript)
“Wow you look lovely.” I smiled at Izzy who was sat cross-legged on my bed putting my hair up in a side plat. I had zapped up long white ballroom dress that was embroidered with black flowers and swirls and a Black sash around my stomach.
To the unique human being reading this, you’re a piece of art. You might think everyone is judging you in the street, but really, no one gives a shit. Everyone is so self conscious. Wear the clothes you want, say whatever you want, please be yourself. What if they look at you? Okay, no big deal, you’re only going to be the topic of a conversation in some people’s boring life. Never stop expressing who you are because no one can take it away from you, it’s YOUR life, YOUR body, YOUR decisions. Remember that we are all atoms in a big universe. Life is too short to be scared of being yourself. Breathe. Stop living a lie. You CAN make it. You have the RIGHT to live freely, do not take shit from anyone. You matter. Your gender, sexuality, opinions and whole soul matter. Focus on positive only. Keep fighting. You’ll be at peace soon, beautiful spirit. I promise.
Stage One: It’s a wonderful day outside and you want nothing more than to go out and experience it firsthand. Of course nothing fits anymore (except those awful maternity clothes) but when has that ever stopped you before?
Stage Two: Feel confident with your belly and clothing choice. Time to show off for the world, right? No need to wear that baggy maternity nonsense! Your pregnant and damn proud of it!
Stage Three: Someone makes a snide comment about your condition.
Stage Four: Despite your earlier confidence feel slightly embarrassed.
Stage Five: After a few moments of internal debate decide maybe it was better idea to wear that terrible maternity clothing after all.
Stage Six: Step out in proper if not unfashionable maternity wear.
Stage Seven: Someone makes another snide comment about your condition.
Stage Eight: Feel self conscious about your clothing and pregnancy once again then decide maybe a day out isn’t worth it.
Stage Nine: Contemplate what happened feeling guilty even though you know its not your fault (and that sometimes people are just jerks).
Stage Ten: Get out of those awful clothes, decide since your home why not just go bare belly and then order a pizza with all the proper toppings to battle those cravings.