i know these have already been made but i just wanted to make them again

Things the Hogwarts Houses say

(loosely based on conversations I’ve had/overheard)

Hufflepuff -

  • “If you don’t start singing along to High School Musical with me in under 30 seconds you will no longer be my best friend" 
  •  "I swear on my chicken nuggets-”
  • “Yes I made that joke up by my self - no it’s not from Spongebob Squarepants how dARE YOU-”
  • “Speaking of Spongebob can we just take a few moments to discuss how much of a masterpiece that first movie was please”
  • “Ah yes, it’s 3 in the morning, time to get emotional and tell all my friends how much I love them”
  • “You made me chocolate??? Oh my God I love you so much thank you I’ll have some right no - THIS HAS RAISINS IN IT YOU TRICKED ME
  • “Oh my God yeah I saw that movie, my favourite part was when - oh shit wait there’s this adorable kitten video I meant to show you last week and I completely forgot let me get it up on my phone”
  • “Sorry I’m late I was up all night watching those videos where kids get surprised with puppies”
  • “Are you awake? Great, let’s start planning our future homes together, I have a pinterest board ready”
  • “This is my favourite photo album! It’s full of photos of all the cats and dogs I’ve made friends with on my walks, I’ve even given them all names”
  • (crying) “Stop calling me emotional God damn it”

Ravenclaw -

  •  "Of course I remember you said you liked the colour red, you told me at like 1:35 am last year in May"
  • “What? Simplifying equations? No, I can’t help with that but I do know all the words to every Simpsons episode in the first 5 seasons if that helps"
  • “Sorry I really can’t go out today. No I’m fine, I’m just stressed I’m doing something important. I’m trying to memorise all the words to this documentary about frogs - What? Yes of course it’s important!”
  • “I discovered and fully analysed that meme 3 weeks ago, step up your game”
  • “What do you mean why do I have a folder full of strategic plans on how to succeed at animal crossing, that’s not weird?”
  • “Sir, I don’t mean to be rude but I’ve been doing my own research and you’re getting all of this wrong. Well yes I know I’m not the teacher here but - Yes, actually, I’d love to teach the class my self I’ve already made a lesson plan, thank you”
  • No, I won’t come and see Jurassic World with you. Because it’s completely unrealistic! Do you have any idea what dinosaurs are actually supposed to have sounded and looked like? Even adult velociraptors weren’t meant to be that b - OK you know what, I will come, but I’ll be pointing out every single problem to you. No, it’s too late, you already invited me. I’m buying our tickets right now, don’t move”
  • “You really think you can beat me at Mario Kart? I have spent YEARS studying this game and honing my skills, spending hours upon hours training until my hands cramp and even my tv is judging the amount of time I’ve spent playing and you think YOU can beat me? Let’s fucking go
  • “I think these guys think I want to murder them because I followed them home but it’s only because I overheard them talking about what would happen if Pokemon is real and I wanted to see how good their logic was”
  • “Shut up? Shut up? I haven’t shut up for 17 years and I’m not about to start now”
  • (crying) "I just want Shakespeare’s ghost to be proud of me”

Gryffindor - 

  • “I’d love to have a sleepover but it can only be when there’s a thunderstorm so we can dance in the rain, let me check the weather forecast”
  • “Did that bee just try and sting you? COME BACK HERE BEE YOU COWARD I’M GONNA FUCK YOU UP - wait shit no run”
  • "What did you say? Don’t touch it? Alright.” (touches it as soon as the person turns away) “Sucker”
  • “Whaaat? Someone wrote on the desk? No it wasn’t me I would never do th - My name was there? Well, I’m not the only one in the world with my na - My surname was there too? What are the chances?!”
  • “Help me I started saying lmao ironically and I can’t stop”
  • “Before you say anything it wasn’t me - unless it was something awesome then I definitely planned the whole thing”
  • Excuse me? They said what to you? … I have to go for a second, I just remembered something completely unrelated. No, no, I’m not taking this fork with me for any particular reason”
  • “Um, did you just tell me it’s impossible to sing along to a guitar solo? Stand back. Your mind is about to get blown”
  • “I am so not drunk! I’m completely drunk! … Wait shit I meant sober”
  • “I’M SO PROUD OF YOU AAAH LET ME HUG YOU! I’M NOT LETTING GO FOR THE NEXT 3 HOURS, GET COMFORTABLE BITCH”
  • “I bet I can stay up for longer than you - what no I’m not tired shut up - nO THAT WASN’T A YAWN I WAS JUST SHOWING YOU WHAT IT WOULD LOOK LIKE IF I WAS TIRED - SEE I DID IT AGAIN TOTALLY ON PURPO - ok fuck you I’m going to sleep”

Slytherin - 

  • “Oh my God, just tell me what you did already so I can start complaining”
  • “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Did you say STOP saying fuck, or KEEP ON saying fuck?”
  • “Over your dead body? I was hoping you’d say that”
  • “If you even LOOK at them one more time I will take a stick as big as your ego and stick it right up your-”
  • “Don’t come near me or - OK fine, we can snuggle for exactly 15 minutes. I’m setting a timer now”
  • “Hey, I saw you posted a picture of us on instagram yesterday where my eyeliner isn’t completely straight? You’re gonna have to delete that, if anyone thinks my eyeliner isn’t drop dead perfect every day and that I’m not a literal make up goddess I’ll lose my reputation as the Regina George of the school”
  • “But keep the one where I’m wearing no make up so that all those bitches know I still kill it without trying”
  • “Oh come on, you know I’d never do anything to embarrass you! Speaking of which, that video I posted on youtube the other day of you falling down the flight of escalators in the shopping centre has reached over 1000 views”
  • “My dad told me tattoos were trashy so I got a giant tattoo saying ‘trashy’ on my back I’ll send you his reaction later”
  • “I’m not a sentimental person but if you touch my teddy bear I will turn you into a stuffed trophy to put next to him”
  • “What do you mean I look smug this is my normal face”

See? This is the bullshit I’m talking about. I get it. We all get it guys, we’re all impatient about when it will come out, it’s been a while, yadda yadda yadda. But being a fucking asshole about it isn’t going to make the game come out faster.

The game is still in development you know why? Because it’s not fucking finished. Be it polish they need to add, fixing bugs around, or maybe working on part of Act 2 or maybe 3 even to make sure things do tie up at the end and there’s no programming mess that deletes your saved data, the WhatPumpkin team is working on the damn thing.

If it was a matter of, the game is done 100% and it’s not being released for some asinine reason, or like a bigger company that was waiting to release an already made game in Christmas, then yeah! Sure, go ahead, complain, tell them to release it already and stop making us wait. But this is not the case, the game is being MADE, and your incessant nagging about ‘when when when where’ only makes you look like entitled little children.

There was radio silence about Hiveswap for the longest time. Allegedly because of legal issues, with so, so very few updates. The game changed house early in development, the style switched from 3D to 2D, this game has had so many awful hiccups, and people were desperate to hear ANYTHING about it. So once they think they got the game pinned down, they release a trailer with what they think will be the release date- Except it’s not. Because Game Development can be messy and this isn’t a Triple-A Company that will rush a videogame to match some date and schedule and then just slowly patch a buggy mess of a game, this is a group of people working together on a passion project about a setting both the author and many of themselves are in love with.

So sure, they missed the original deadline. Then they put out another trailer without a specific date, publicly said they will not say a date until they are 100% certain it will be then as to not get people’s hopes up, have released 2 Grubbles songs plus a bunch of snippets about the OST of the game, have interviewed like 10 people at WhatPumpkin for us to see the team behind the game, figures we already knew about in the Fandom, people that aren’t into Homestuck, professionals, amateurs, we even got concept art, the process of drawing backgrounds, the animation…

Have any of you complaining read the Interviews? With everyone mentioning their pride about the game? Talking about how excited they are to show you things about it? Of fucking course they want to release it already too, but they CAN’T. They. Cannot. Release. It. Yet. And none of your complaining is going to make it speed up. You know what crying like a baby is going to do and shouting the interviews don’t matter what will result in? Radio silence again. Would you prefer that? Total uncertainty about anything regarding the game than at LEAST seeing something?

And I get it. I get it’s been a long long time. I get some of you actually paid money for the Kickstarter. But you’re literally doing what Game Dev companies nowadays are doing all the time. You’re so centred on getting your hands on something early and meeting a stupid deadline that you’re willing to kill a project and receive a mess instead. The only constructive criticism above is the one mentioning they’d like to hear about the progress of the game itself and not the Dev Team. And you know why it will never happen?

Because they did it already. They thought their game was at 99% and announced a release date, then it backfired on them. They will NEVER tell us, ‘Oh, the game is JUST about to come out!’ because if they bump into another hiccup they’re going to have to delay it. And the last time that happened, y’all started to scream at them to just release it already and disregarded any show of good faith because you apparently can’t wait a single second longer after five years of waiting.

The most grating thing is people STILL STUCK on the January 2017 date have obviously not read any post they made talking about not wanting to get people’s hopes up until they’re 100% certain it’s just around the corner, and yet they keep popping up on every single piece of media they release about the game like bots bent on spreading negativity.

Be glad you’re even getting this game in the first place after the hell it’s gone through with The Odd Gentlemen and an ungrateful following.

Just a thought...

So one of the things that I love about this season of Camp Camp, is that while it’s still pretty whimsical and hilarious, it’s shown some real character development in Max and David.

MAX:

Let’s face it, this kid was a die hard troublemaker and a fucking asshole all stuffed inside a tiny ten year old’s body.

Before now, you couldn’t pay him enough to enjoy anything, especially any of David’s crazy camp activities. Hell, he spent a majority of the first season either trying to escape, or trying to figure out how to destroy the camp from the inside. And he got close sometimes, it all could’ve been over when the FBI tried to arrest David for the stuff Max was looking up on his phone. But the small part of him that said what he was doing was going too far made him speak up and exonerate David. And when he thought he had gone to far in his mischievous act that David actually wanted to kill him, he was legitimately afraid and wanted to take back his actions, unlike when he was in the forest with the Quartermaster where it was more likely for him to be murdered and just accepted his fate.

And more importantly, Max was unwilling to accept that people like David existed anymore, and was willing to go to great lengths to break him. And he did. It took twelve episodes but in the end, Max won. David was utterly defeated.

And then Max had to learn the harsh lesson that sure, while life can sometimes be a piece of shit, people can choose too not look past it, but to live with it and still find the good in what’s left. Max was just too jaded by things we know not of, and so was David, and he still found the strength to be himself every day because if he didn’t, Camp Campbell would be even more miserable than Max already thought it was. And because of that, Max decided to help him just for the sake of preserving this optimism.

And now, Max has learned to kind of go with the flow. He’s no longer trying to escape or sabotage David’s every action, he’s just kicking back, relaxing, and enjoying the show.

More so, when Daniel invaded the camp, Max actually sought out David’s help rather than trying to figure out how to get rid of him on his own. And when nothing he did convinced David of Daniel’s murderous intentions, he entered the Purification Sauna, knowing full well he’d be hypnotized into loving Daniel, but had enough faith in David to remove his rose tinted glasses, finally see the truth, and save all the campers from certain death.

And when David got his heart broken by Bonquisha, he and the rest of the children went to great lengths to try and get them back together so he would stop being so depressed all the time.

That’s a lot of character development for a kid.

DAVID:

As for David, his transition has been a lot more subtle.

This happy go-lucky camp counselor is still pretty much the same, while at the same time completely different. The David of first season was optimistic to a fault. He out right refused to see the bad in people, especially Cameron Campbell, got bullied by the kids into leaving the camp for a day, had no clue how to discipline children, and had an unhealthy obsession with being the best camp counselor. And it killed him every day when he couldn’t figure out why none of the kids loved Camp Camp(bell) as much as he did.

There were even some points in the show where his mask slipped and he looked actually angry for once before going back to Happy David.

Until he was pushed to the edge by Max in the season finale of season one and he finally laid all of his cards on the table. He knew perfectly well that not everything was sunshine and roses all the time, but he had a choice. He could be like Max, pessimistic and down right bitter about the world, or he could try to see the good in the world every day and be the best version of himself he could be.

But he also learned a valuable lesson that day. It was okay to not be himself all the time. Sure, he could still be overly enthusiastic about everything, but he could still let go every now and again. Be it wanting to kick out the psycho cult leader you almost hired and may or may not have been after your job-

or sometimes fucking up and saying the wrong thing-

or being openly disappointed in the decisions other people make-

or admitting that you made a mistake that started off with good intentions-

or getting your heart broken-

needing to cry for days on end (even when it’s super awkward)-

and beating the shit out of some guy for something that wasn’t really their fault but only because you’re insanely jealous because they’re banging your babe now.

FINAL POINT:

So in the end, sure, they’re still pretty similar to how they started off in the show.

But the two of them have grown so much, I can’t wait to see where this show is going to take us next.

I don’t play by the rules

Pairing: Peter parker x Stark! reader

Summary: Peter Parker falls hard for the new girl, and while he can’t do anything about it a certain masked hero might.

 word count: 2135

y/bf/n= Your best friend’s name

warnings: slight makeout? 

PART 2

sorry in advance for any grammar mistakes, hope you enjoy it! Please tell me what you thought about it! :) 

ALSO! I! AM! TAKING! REQUESTS! SO! SEND! THOSE! IN! :)

Originally posted by tomshollandss

It happened on a Tuesday. A regular day you might say, however it was the day everything changed for Peter Parker. There he was on his chemistry class thinking it was just another boring class, another wasted hour, at least he thought that until the door opened, revealing the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Standing in front of the class was Y/n Stark. Everybody knew who you were, your dad was Iron man, for God sake! You came in the classroom with a designer outfit and bag that was probably more expensive than Peter’s whole wardrobe.

Peter continued to watch you as the teacher told you to seat right at the front of the class. Not only were you a really pretty girl, with the brightest smile and the kindest eyes, but you also had to be very intelligent, since this was the Chemistry AP class. Well of course she is intelligent dumbass! Her father is Tony Stark! She has obviously been in his labs before!

After that first time he saw you everything went downhill. He could never gather the courage to talk to you, let alone ask you out, so he settled for watching you from afar. She probably thinks I’m a creeper, Peter thought, however he couldn’t bring himself to care. He could watch as your smile got bigger when someone told you a joke, and how your eyes will get particularly bright whenever you got a good grade at math. He didn’t care about anything else.

Not long after your arrival to the school he got his so-called “stark internship”,  or his role as Spiderman. This didn’t change much for him. He was still a nerd loser and you were still  a popular girl that was way out of his league.

“Seriously dude! how come you’ve never even said a word to her?” Ned asked Peter as they made their way into the gym.

“Is not that easy Ned! She doesn’t even know I exist!”

“But you are like, totally in love with Y/!” Peter quickly muffled Ned’s mouth, stopping the boy from saying anything else.

“Geez Ned! Don’t you want to shout it to the world?!” Peter started lowering his hand and headed towards the group of people exercising. “You can’t just go around saying that! Someone might hear you!”

“I’m sorry but, like, I still can’t believe it! Don’t you see her everyday? in the, you know, Stark Internship?”

Since Ned found out about Peter being Spider Man he had made questions non-stop, pretty ridiculous questions, if you asked Peter.

“Ned I don’t just hang out at the Avenger’s tower you know? I have to be on the streets! Besides, she is totally off limits I mean! She is Mr. Stark’s daughter! He would kill me if-”

“Shhh- SHhhhhh! Peter listen!”

This time he was the one to shut up as both boys listened to a conversation happening at the bleachers across them. It was Y/n, looking as beautiful as she always did, surrounded by her usual crowd.

“Sooo Y/n, you must be surrounded by all those superheroes at your house right? You know, because of your dad?

“Well not all the time, but yeah, they hang out pretty often” She responded, trying to sound chill about the topic. Not everybody noticed, but Peter knew just how tired she felt about having to talk about his dad and the avengers all the time. None of the people that followed her around really knew her. Yes they knew about her life and her family, but besides that no one seemed to take interest in getting to know her for real.

That was kind of the reason why he prefered to hide his identity. Well, that and the possibility of being kidnapped and killed.

“Are you friends with them?”  “Are they nice?” “Are they hot?” “Is Captain America a real blonde?”

A load of questions were asked at you, however one catched Peter’s attention again.

“Are you friends with spiderman? Do you know who he is?”

“I’ve actually never talked to him, he’s never at the tower when I’m there” she replied shrugging her shoulders. She really was clueless to the hero’s identity.

“Seriously Y/n? Weren’t you supposed to be Spiderman #1 fan?” Y/bf/n asked, as she wiggled her eyebrows at Y/n.

A blush spread to the girl’s cheeks as she smiled shyly. Of course she had a tiny crush with Spider Man (even though she didn’t have a clue of who he was), however he never seemed to hang around the tower as the other Avengers. Maybe he liked being alone.

The conversation was quickly dropped after the coach told them all to get back to work, however Ned was not done.

“Dude! She likes you!” You have to talk to her tonight!”

“She doesn’t like me! She likes Spider Man, not Peter, besides-”

“I swear to God that if you don’t make a move on her tonight I will stop being friends with you! You have to promise me you will try! Deal?

“Deal”

Could it be possible that the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on had a thing for him? Even if it was the suit she was in love with Peter couldn’t stop the smile that crept through his face all day and the knot he felt on his stomach every time he looked at Y/n.

And that is exactly why he found himself later that night ready to go talk to the girl of his dreams. He already knew the crew will be out with Mr Stark in some mission he was not allowed, so that cleared the way for him. And anyways he was always welcomed in the tower, at least that what they always told him.

“You can do this Peter, you got this”

Peter tried to give himself a little of motivation before knocking on your door,however he couldn’t find the strength to raise his hand and knock on it, he felt like a bundle of nerves! None of his previous fights or encounters had him feeling this way, he seriously needed to control himself! Peter tried once again to knock on the door only to be stopped when the door opened completely, revealing Y/n in her pj’s and her glasses, apparently ready to go to bed.

Both teenagers looked at each other with complete shook in the faces, one behind his mask of course. The girl was completely speechless, she couldn’t believe the Spider Man was in front of her! And had seen her in just some sweats! She blushed deeply as she realised her appearance.

Peter tried to think of something, anything to say to her, however he couldn’t seem to find the words. After a long silence Y/n finally broke the silence as she leaned against the door.

“I can’t believe Spider Man is at my door! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The girl was trying to keep it together, however she was still freaking out, but she couldn’t let her stupid crush affect her! This was her chance to get to know him! She could feel her flirtier side creeping up, trying to smile wider and lean closer to the boy.

“Well- I umhh- I just wanted to- you know- visit my favorite Stark” Peter said as he tried to recover from his initial shook.

“Then I guess you are looking for my dad, however he is not around”

“I actually meant you, I’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time now”

The girl was surprised by what the boy had just said. Did he know her? How come they had never met before?

Y/n started moving inside her bedroom once again, looking over her shoulder to continue “Since I’ve got no plans for tonight you might want to hang for a while, you know, to get to know each other and stuff”

Peter did not need to be told twice before he followed her around and into her room. Well, bedroom was an understatement to what her place really looked liked. It seemed more like a apartment of her own, with a big tv are, followed by what appeared to be her studio with a shit ton of books and finally her actual bed. She went into the couch in front the TV as Peter followed her close behind. She finally seated down facing the boy.

“Why are you here with me right now and not saving the world as usual?”

“Can’t a man take a break every once in awhile? Besides, I’m pretty sure your dad is taking care of that at the moment”

“You are probably right, sooo anyways..You said you had wanted to meet me for a long time, so here I am, what is it that you wanna know?”

“Well nothing in particular- it’s just that- you are- you are a really beautiful girl”

The girl felt herself blush at the words of the boy behind the mask. He probably did have a thing for her then? There was only one way to find out the truth.

Y/n leaned closer to Peter, looking into what she supposed were his eyes and took him by the shoulder as she played with the curls in the back of his head.

“So you think I’m a beautiful girl?” She said with a teasing voice, trying to make the boy a little nervous, obviously succeeding.

“The most gorgeous I’ve meet”

Peter could say this without any hesitation. Right in front of him was the most beautiful girl on earth. Her big eyes were looking at him and she was even closer than before, he was getting kind of nervous, but her fingers in his hair kept him just in place, right where she wanted him.

“So if I’m so beautiful, how come you’ve never paid me a visit before?”

She had started talking in mere whispers, now moving her other hand into his chest, playing with the material of his suit.

“I wanted to!- I totally wanted to but- you know your dad’s rules right? I’m not really allowed to”

She started to lift his mask, revealing only his mouth before saying.

“Well Spider-boy, you should already know I don’t play by my father’s rules”

Right after she finished she crashed her lips into Peter’s making the boy let out a surprised gasp. He was kissing her! They were kissing! He couldn’t believe it!

Meanwhile the girl was feeling exactly the same. She didn’t knew where she got the guts to do it, but she was glad she did.

His fingers sanked  into her hair as they continued kissing, Peter finally out of his trance brought his other hand to the girl’s face and cupped it, deepening the kiss further.

He felt himself biting into the girl’s lips, as a quiet moan escaped her lips. Y/n pulled apart only to straddle his hips with her thighs and roll her hips along the way, giving them both a little of the friction they needed, but not enough.

Peter grabbed her waist trying to pull her closer to him, his hand making their way to her legs, touching and stroking her thighs. They were heavy breathing, kissing longer, harder, rougher. Both teenagers tried to take and taste as much as possible, urgent and desperately, fighting for dominance.

He pulled apart and went straight for her neck, sucking and biting, leaving what would sure become hickeys by the morning. His morning somewhat bored with her long legs moved to her hips once again, before sliding under her t-shirt and holding her closer, moving his hand right under her bra.

The soft whimpers that would leave her mouth every time he bite a specific part kept him going. Another movement yet another time they would feel that friction and that need to pull harder at the other.

Y/n as getting pretty tired of that stupid mask getting in the way, so she pulled apart ready to get it off him, however a noise down the kitchen distracted her. She heard her dad’s voice calling for her! The whole team was there already? How had they missed it?

Peter realised the situation as well  as he quickly pull stood up and headed towards the window.

“I really have to get going, I’m sorry!”

“Will I see you again?”

Peter pulled the girl close to him for one last kiss, a long lingering one. A kiss he had dreamed over and over again.

“Sooner than you think”

With this last words the boy pulled his mask down and disappeared through the window, swinging his way from building to building.

Man! He could not wait to tell Ned the good news!

Is Nalu canon?

As crunchyroll finally released the last chapter I decided writing my opinion on it. I will make side comments but the main subject will be Nalu since many of you asked me if I think it is canon or not.


First of all we will be starting with the cover page, in which Mashima left some hidden clues.

where have we seen this before? That`s right. 

Natsu`s shirt, which is more manly is more in his style with one long sleeve and a shor one is matching to Lucy`s old outfit from x792. Mashima always made them matchy clothes, didnt matter it was a bracelet, the colors, or a whole outfit.

Moving on… we didn`t have much interaction between NaLu at Lucy`s party

Even so, Mashima brought us a little nostalgia on the good times when Lucy was always screaming at Natsu and he wasn’t bothered by it, morover acting like a child. They are supposed to be 28-29 here right? (excepting the time skip) They remained the same kids they were once.


I have to say that i am really proud of Lucy. She`s such a kind girl, she didn’t care if her novel made her rich or not, but she fullfilled one of her dreams. Isn’t that amazing? I am really proud of my baby ♥

Also I have to say I am happy Anna remained in her timeline. She already lost her parents and she finally has a relative.



There we have a little teasing from Gajeel and also from Mashima himself. 

Anna was the one who sent Natsu n this timeline, Anna made his scarf. He knew her since he was a little boy, he gave him the chill and he is admitting THIS is why he is always so relaxed being around Lucy. She has always been there for him, taking care of him and covering things for him. She was a good friend to him, his best friend and she grew in more.

Gajeel is teasing Natsu in here saying “ you liked her”

What could have Natsu say? “No? I disliked her?” No. Also Gajeel is shocked about his answer. He answered so relaxed and can you see that blushing Lucy? That`s right, she is blushing because Natsu somehow said he likes her. If he likes Anna, Lucy is alike to Anna, he likes Lucy too. so regarding the fact both Lucy and Anna have a similar smell, he is always so relaxed around Lucy, isn’t it the fact that your home has a certain smell, gives you a certain comfort? This is what Lucy is for him. His home. 

In this panel, Lucy is admitting herself she is jealous over Gajevy. Why is she jealous? Because Gajevy managed growing into a mature relationship, Gajeel became a man, while Natsu is still an immature little brat, but he is her brat. We will never see Natsu saying things like Gajeel “ The woman i fell for” “ I wished walking side by side with you” or something like this. No, Natsu has his own way to express his feelings. Let`s remember some of his lines “ I am going to save Lucy” “ Lay one finger on Lucy and I turn you to ashes”  “ Even if it’s just her head, Lucy is still Lucy “ “ From today on, you are mine” “Long time no see, Lucy” and so many others. There are different ways of saying “I love you” Its in your gestures and let’s remember how Natsu was affected by Future Lucy’s death and when they fought with August how he climbed over her to protect her. He is never going to let her die again.

Also Lucy is blushing so hard and is emarassed by the things Gajeel and Levy had done. She is not mature herself to do things a couple should be doing. She is still embarassed about this even if she is 19(or 28)


See? She had the same reaction as Wendy. A reaction a child would have when hearing things.


This doesnt have any link to Nalu but im posting it for gruvians and my gruvia heart


Finally you`ve got a hang of it Gray-sama. @giushia

Going back.

Mashima is giving a tease again. “ the pair im most” the pair. So there are pairings.


Even if they fought Zeref and he put them trough hell, look at her face. She knows that Zeref and Mavis had found their peace they are back being someone else. Her look is saying “ sadness but still happiness” Could this be the love she`s also dreaming of? Even if they had a tragic destiny, they found their way back to each other. 


she, herself is happy for everyone. Every single mage is happy including herself.

Now, let`s start with the Nalu Pages 

there you go, Mashima putting another old scene. “ This is my room” But remember the first time Natsu was in her room? She kicked him out. 


While now she made this cute face, she didnt kick them out and isn’t bothered by it anymore. Yet she still has to say something about it. A girl has to keep her dignity.

The love is in the gestures you do. How I said up. Natsu carried her home, took care of her. Its a little gesture, but what could had happen if he wasn’t there to carry her home while she passed out?

He took her home, he took care of her. He watched over her.


Now, that`s Lucy` way of complaining she will never walk down the aisle, she will never be a bride.

Yet, Natsu finds a way, an open door


“ You can walk out” You can walk out with HIM and join him in his job, like she has always done. Look at her face.He just gave her hope. 

THIS IS NATSU`S WAY OF SAYING “ I wanted to  walk side by side with you”. “ You can walk and take a job with us

Furthermore, she is remembering all the memories the two of them had together. She bursts in tears. 

And hugs him

She hugs him. He is the person who gave her everything. Without Natsu, Lucy would have still been the Heartfilia Princess. she should have married someone she didnt like, she wouldnt have achieved one of her dreams and she wouldnt have been in Fairy Tail. 

She is greatful for having him, for giving her everything she wished for and even if she was rich, he gave her what her parents and their money couldnt afford. Friends and family. Fairy Tail was her family, they had always protected her, they had always been there for her.


Yet, Natsu doesn’t know what to do. He doesnt  want to see her crying even if they are tears of joy. He just want to see her happy.


In these panels, I dont know if i can agree with the others or not, that a panel is missing. Seems it is missing something but at the same time not. Did he kiss her? Why is she so shocked? Or..he didnt kiss her, yet she said “ wait” if hereally didnt kiss her, then her “wait” was “ wait, I am not ready”.


But what are the things you did, Natsu? I dont think in this panel, Lucy is talking about her memories, but something he did.now.  He answers “ what does it matter?” I saw lots of movies and series where the boy, after he kissed the girl and she said something similar to what Lucy said he answered “ why does it matter”. So he really might have kissed her and let`s remember Mashima doesnt know how to draw proper kisses. So a panel could be missing up there because Mashima didnt want to ruin that haha 


They will always be togehter. They are going to a 100 years quest which is a lifetime. Natsu and Lucy will be together forever. Always and forever


My conclusion is that, in a subtle way than Gajevy`s or Gruvia, Nalu is canon and we can finally celebrate.

Transference (M) – Chapter 06

cr. [X]

Summary: During a routine visit to the local bakery, you stumble upon an intriguing business card and figure, what the hell. The business arrangement becomes…mutually beneficial. Y’all know where this is going.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut

Word Count: 13,167

Warning: Tantric!Hoseok, therapist/client relationship, sexual themes, BDSM, shibari, dom/sub roleplay, profanity.

A/N: This chapter is going to hurt.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

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Night Drive

Summary: In which you help Bucky combat a sleepless night by going on a night drive.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,366

A/N: Oh hey, it’s me. I guess I’m back.

Originally posted by krisletang

The screaming starts late that night. Or maybe it starts early that morning; it’s too dark outside your window to be sure of the time.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes is easier said than done. Your slumber had been a deep one, as the fatigue from two sleepless nights in a row had caught up to you. Once your head hit the pillow, you were convinced nothing could possibly wake you up.

Nothing except the sound of Bucky’s screams in the room down the hall from yours.

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Polydads

Also on ao3

Based on a post that @catsforartists made!

—–

When Amanda woke up, she decided to crawl out of bed to get a bowl of cereal. And eat it on the couch, of course.

“Ain’t nothing beat couch cereal.” She declared to the empty room and dug into her delicious and dangerously sugary cereal.

Almost immediately after taking a bite out of her cereal, she heard footsteps coming from her dad’s room, but, when she glanced up, she saw Damien walking by her.

“Good morning, Amanda dear.” Damien greeted.

“Mornin.” Amanda responded. She KNEW it. Her dad and Damien had been getting pretty close, so it wasn’t a completely wild assumption that they would start dating. And, of course, the footsteps she heard must be…

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The Photograph

Hi babes! This is a fluffy oneshot about Peter having a crush on one of Michelle’s friends at Midtown High. One day, he spots her reading outside and secretly takes a photo of her because he thinks that she looks too perfect to go unseen, and he pins the photo up in the back of his locker. Everything is fine until Flash Thompson gets his hands on Peter’s photo and brings it to her attention. After that, awkward cuteness ensues and I hope that you all like it!

The Photograph

Hot licks of pain seared throughout Peter’s body. His lip was split, there was a purpling bruise on his temple that was accompanied by a headache so powerful that it’s aching refused to be ignored. Even walking from class to class was taking a toll on Peter. He was exhausted and in pain, but Peter remained hellbent on keeping Queens safe, no matter the cost.  

    Peter’s eyes glazed over and his body was ready to shut down. Doing his best to keep himself up on his feet, he focused on the photo that he had tacked up of her in the back of his locker.

    In the photo, the girl was outside, hidden beneath the shade of a rather large tree. She was stretched out on a light pink blanket, a copy of Charles Baudelaire’s, ‘The Flowers of Evil,’ open in front of her. There was a carton of fresh strawberries and a rather oversized iced coffee balanced haphazardly against her backpack on the ground with her, and every so often, Peter recalled how delightedly blissful she looked each time she bit into a ripe berry. The sun’s rays, the soft breeze wandering through the tree’s leaves, and the chatter bumbling down to her from their shared high school didn’t even faze the girl. Her mind remained with the poet’s.

    After a few minutes of watching her, Peter felt soothed. Everything about her made him feel better. He loved the way she licked her lips after she ate, he loved the way that she read her favorite verses aloud, he loved the way that she laughed at herself when she nearly spilled her coffee, and he loved the way that she helped him forget about the constant stress that was now heavily present in his life.

    When Peter finally snapped the photo, she was laying on her side, one hand wound into her silky hair to keep it out of her eyes, and the other hand holding her poetry book open. Her eyes were focused on comprehending the poems on each page, but she wore a soft smile on her lips that made it clear that she wasn’t scrutinizing anything too intensely. The girl was merely enjoying her free period in the sun and Peter longed to do the same.

    Since then, Peter looked for her in almost every hallway, in every classroom window, and everyday at lunch. They’d spoken a handful of times, seeing as they were in the same history class, but other than class discussions, Peter hadn’t mustered up the nerve to say hello outside of an intellectual, in-class debate.

    One day, she was late to history and when she’d walked into the room, she found that her normal seat next to the window had been taken, so she headed towards the first empty desk she saw. Peter, already occupying one of the seats, nearly suffered a heart attack when she placed her binder next to his and offered him a quiet “good morning.”

    It had taken Peter a few seconds to force his brain to form a response to her and then to get his mouth to open and say the words that his brain was attempting to communicate back to her. When he stuttered out, “hey, yeah, good morning,” she didn’t tease him for his weirdness, instead she smiled at him and Peter could’ve melted onto the floor right then and there.

    During that day’s lecture, their teacher was detailing women’s struggles throughout the years to gain the 19th amendment, which won women of all colors, and social standings the right to vote. She scribbled down notes and nodded in agreement with the teacher as she spoke of Ida B. Well’s, Lucy Burns’ and Alice Paul’s courageous actions in the suffrage movement. It was only after Flash Thompson opened his mouth that Peter observed a frown cross over her features.

    “Why didn’t they just keep doing what Florence Kelley advised? If they had followed her directions, they wouldn’t have gotten radical and thrown into prison. Florence Kelley was meeting with President Woodrow Wilson, and he explained to her why he couldn’t grant women suffrage right then, but he said he would going forward. The National Women’s Party didn’t know what they were doing, and furthermore, they set the women’s rights movement back with their crazy antics.” Flash finished, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair.

    Glancing over at the girl in the chair next to him, Peter knew that not only was Flash painfully incorrect and uneducated, but she was clearly getting ready to put Flash back into his place.

    “Wow, that’s actually so, so, so wrong.” She started, turning slightly in her chair to face Flash, “if Florence Kelley had kept asking President Wilson to recognize women as intelligent, reasonable beings capable of making a decisive decision, it’s unlikely that the 19th amendment would’ve been passed in 1920. The only reason women were granted suffrage is because of The National Woman’s Party. These women marched, were beaten in the streets, picketed in front of the White House, and were thrown into jail for the good of women everywhere. President Wilson only granted women the right to suffrage after women were dying in prison due to the hunger strike Alice Paul began. Not to mention, while these women were imprisoned, they were denied basic human rights and the entire reason they were in locked away in jail was because they were blocking traffic on the sidewalk. It took drastic measures to humanize women in men’s eyes and without the heroic antics of these women, who knows where women would stand today. I mean, a woman’s right to her own body is something that could be taken away at any moment, and women are constantly battling the image that men have imposed upon us. Therefore, your opinion is invalid because you apparently cannot grasp the severity of the situation, past and present.”

    Peter, as well as the rest of the class, was stunned into silence. Normally, she didn’t partake in class discussions because she was shy, but now that she had, everyone in the room was shocked by the intellect that she had just destroyed Flash with. Peter wanted nothing more than to hear her speak all day, and maybe to introduce her to Aunt May.

    Peter could barely focus as Michelle began to back her up. Leaning closer to the wonderfully insightful girl next to him, Peter let her know just how clever he found her. “That was amazing, everything you said was perfect and spot-on. That was the greatest thing that I’ve ever seen and I can’t wait for you do it again.” Peter congratulated the girl.

    “You don’t think it was too much?” She asked worriedly, biting her lip and fiddling with the pencil in her hands.

    Peter shook his head, his eyes wide, “No, no! Absolutely not! You would’ve made Alice Paul very proud.”

    Placing a hand atop of his, she thanked him with a smile. “You’re the best, Peter,” she said before turning her focus back to their teacher.

    After that, she had joined Peter on Flash’s hit-list, so Peter should’ve known better than to try and relax with his locker wide open. Peter was knocked out of his daydream of going home to her and simply curling up around her to sleep by Flash’s grabby hand, first shoving him out of the way, and then stealing his photo of her.

    As Flash rushed down the hall, Peter struggled after him, both boys trying to beat each other to where she stood deep in conversation with Michelle about the numerous male authors whose most famous novels were stolen works from their wives.

    “Flash, don’t” Peter shouted, as he tried to ignore the shooting pain traveling up his body.

    “Too late, Penis Parker,” Flash called as he weaved gracefully inbetween students to get to their target.

    “Oh my gosh,” Michelle muttered, rolling her eyes as she nodded her head towards the two boys heading their way. “Losers.”

    “His lip is bleeding,” She said, concern lacing into her tone. “Do you think he’s okay?”

    “Your boyfriend is fine, probably tripped over a lego or something on his way to the bathroom and banged his head into the wall on his way down.” Michelle tried to reason with her friend. She’d detected that her friend and Peter had the biggest of crushes on one another way before either one of them had, and she had made it her mission to mock them every chance she got.

    Flash was the first to reach the two girls, holding up the photo of her that Peter had taken of her reading outside. “Parker, Penis.” He wheezed, “Penis Parker took this picture of you and had it taped up behind his textbooks in his locker.” Bending over to soothe the splint in his side, Flash handed the photo to the confused girl in front of him.

    As Peter came to a stop in front of her and Michelle, he groaned and threw his hands up into the air, uttering a barely audible, “fuck.”

    When the girls saw Peter up close, they found that Peter was barely recognizable due to all of the bruises masking his pale skin. Quickly handing the photo to Michelle, the girl surged forward, lightly grabbing onto Peter’s sweater to steady him. “Peter, what happened to you? You’re hurt,” she questioned, growing a little more distraught as she studied him face to face.

    “The picture, I’m sorry, I know it’s so creepy. I didn’t mean to be a weirdo and I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable, I swear that I’m not stalking you.” Peter mumbled, trying unsuccessfully to keep his lip from bleeding.

    “Peter, I don’t care about the photo. What happened to you? Oh no, your lip is bleeding,” She rambled, steering Peter towards the bench nearest to them. “Sit,” she instructed, digging through her backpack for a tissue to dab Peter’s cut with.

    “You’re seriously not going to say anything about the picture he clearly took of you?” Flash whined, refusing to accept defeat.

    Michelle raised her eyebrows, “No, I think it’s disturbing too. You’re not alone in that, Flash.”

    “Do you need ice?” She asked Peter, guiding Peter to look up so she could inspect his face for any further damage. “You need ice, Michelle, could you please go get him ice? Flash, could you please go away?” She asked, looking at the pair over her shoulder.

    Flash was nearly beside himself, “it’s weird! You have to acknowledge that it’s weird that he not only took a photo of you without your knowledge, but that he has it pinned up like you are his girlfriend or something? Really not going to say anything about that?”

    “For all you know,” she said, turning to face Flash as she did that day in class, “Peter could very well be my boyfriend!”

    Peter’s jaw dropped so far that she had to readjust his head to keep the tissue on his open wound. Gently prying her helping hand from his lip, “wait, really?” Peter asked. “You’d be my girlfriend after all this?”

    “This is disgusting,” Michelle interjected. Handing Peter’s photo back to him, she grabbed Flash by the collar of his polo shirt and dragged him down the hallway. “We’ll be back with ice and some band-aids.”

    She and Peter could hear Flash’s discontented grumbles as he followed Michelle down to the nurse’s office to retrieve some medical aid for Peter.

    “Are you really not freaked out?” Peter asked, staring up at her with big, brown, puppy-dog eyes.

    Sighing, she moved to stand in between Peter’s legs to inspect how much further his lip had split. “If you keep talking, the cut is never going to heal. This,” she gestured to Peter’s clearly damaged frame, “freaks me out more than anything. What’s happening to you? If I can help you, please let me. I care about you and I hate that you’re hurt.” She pouted.

    She was so close that Peter could smell all the floral notes in her perfume, and if he wanted to, he could hug himself close to her and never let go. “I can’t tell you what’s happening, but if I stop, things will get worse. Not just for me, but for everyone. I’m trying to help.”

    Running a hand through his hair, she shook her head. “Then let me help you. If you’re helping everyone, you deserve to have someone help you, and I want you to let me be that person, Peter.”

    Pinching the palm of his hand, Peter spotted Flash and Michelle returning with ice, ointment and bandages in hand, and he knew that he had to be quick. “It would really help me if you went out to dinner with me. Just being with you would help me. That’s why I took the picture of you. Every day that I felt like I was drowning, I would look at you, well the picture of you, and it would help me to breath again.”

    “Pick me up on Saturday. I’ll be ready at 7:30,” she agreed, much to not only Peter’s, but Flash’s surprise.

    “Come on!” Flash hissed, “how is it that Parker gets a date with a hot girl after he hides in the bushes and takes secret pictures of her? What the hell is going on right now? Do I live in the twilight zone?”

    “For fucks sake, Flash.” Michelle muttered, turning to him with squared shoulders, “she clearly knew that he was taking the photos of her. Who would smile while reading ‘The Flowers of Evil?’ And beyond that, she’s liked him for months and he’s liked her for months. All you’ve really done is finally bring them closer together. Congratulations Flash, your plan has officially backfired.”

    Flash groaned throughout the rest of the day and Michelle planned on teasing him for the rest of the school year. The girl’s cheeks were flushed pink until she went to sleep, and Peter couldn’t stop smiling, even though it only made the split in his lip worse.

   


Natsu didn’t friend zone Lucy!

I’ve seen lots of debate in the fairy tail tag today over whether NaLu is actually canon or not, so I wanted to share my opinion!

*WARNING: This is a long one!*

Personally, I believe NaLu is canon, but not in your stereotypical “I love you” “I love you too” confession and makeout session kind of way. Ever since Natsu and Lucy first started acting like a couple and were shipped, we know that the pair have zero experience with love. Neither have ever been in a relationship, and therefore don’t really know how to act when confronted with the idea of one. Lucy has a slim idea, after her early fantasies of a “knight in shining armour” figure, however Natsu is completely oblivious. I think Natsu and Lucy both share an idea on what love is, but neither can properly tell when they are in love unless when the moment is right.

So here comes Chapter 545! Of course Lucy got incredibly emotional when thinking back to the jobs:

Which is only natural, the poor girl has been through so much and just at the thought of going on another job brought back so many memories and tears to her eyes.

So what does she do?
The only thing she can do:

Embrace and thank the man who made it all possible; Natsu.

At this moment, with all the memories flooding back into her, Lucy is finally coming to terms with her feelings for Natsu. She loves him. She loves him out of pure gratitude for everything he’s ever done for her, and for being her first ever friend. As Lucy said herself, if she’d never met Natsu, none of her life would have been possible; she wouldn’t have joined Fairy Tail, she wouldn’t have made friends, she wouldn’t have grown stronger, and she probably wouldn’t have won the best writer award!

And Natsu knows this.

Of course initially he pulls his signature “o shit” face because Lucy is crying and he’s not really sure what to do. 

But this isn’t necessarily a look of “o shit” because he’s uncomfortable or feels awkward. Both him and Happy look incredibly concerned, from their creased eyebrows to the bead of sweat dripping from them. So why is he pulling that face? Because he is confronted with love.

As I said before, Natsu has had no experience with love before, therefore when Lucy hugs him and tells him how much she appreciates him, he doesn’t know how to react.

Now, the next part I think is the most important:

Of course Natsu has never been one to give Lucy any form of personal space, and here is certainly no exception. But this scene is different from all the others. Natsu respects Lucy more than anyone else in the guild, therefore if he were to tease her or invade her personal space, it’s purely in a jokey scenario. This scene here though? This isn’t a joke. Natsu and Lucy are being serious. So that merely means that Natsu leaning in is not a way to tease her, he is being serious with her, a trait rarely shown by the dragon slayer unless in combat.

Now, you’d all be lying if you said you didn’t think Natsu was going to kiss Lucy on the next page, because at this point I was screaming at him to kiss her and this is the point most people believe Natsu rejected Lucy. But in my opinion, it’s the complete opposite.

As I said, Natsu has had no experience with love, so the time he is actually faced with it (right now), he’s not joking around, he’s not teasing, because he has finally realised how Lucy feels. Granted I don’t think he’s absolutely certain, and here’s why:

When Natsu leans in - I promise this isn’t my NaLu senses taking over - I believe he was actually planning to kiss her, like many of us hoped. However, I think he changed his mind at the last minute, purely because he doesn’t want to hurt Lucy. He knows she’s in a vulnerable situation, and he would hate more than anything to make her more upset and tearful than she already is. Natsu knows that he loves Lucy, and is starting to think she returns those feelings, but he doesn’t want to confess when she’s in such a state and all emotional. He doesn’t want to hurt and/or confuse her.

Now let’s discuss Lucy’s feelings towards all this. Throughout the entire Alvarez arc she’s being toying with her feelings towards Natsu, as to whether they’re strictly platonic or whether there’s something more. This is the point where she’s considering perhaps there is something more. She’s so overwhelmed with gratitude and emotions she’s finally putting two and two together and deciding she is in love with her best friend. When Natsu leans in, she thinks he’s about to kiss her. How do we know?

This. The face she makes. You can interpret this however many ways you like, I’m definitely not saying mine is the correct way, but I’ll explain my theory.

Lucy’s contemplating her feelings again when she says “Wait”, but stops in the middle of her sentence. Why? Because she’s panicking. She - much like Natsu - has never had any experience with love, never had a boyfriend, and never had her first kiss. She thinks Natsu is going to kiss her, so what does she do? She closes her eyes and leaves her mouth open. She’s waiting for him to kiss her, so she can properly decide how she feels. She wants Natsu to kiss her.

Need more evidence?

She thought he was going to do something interesting.

What kind of interesting thing were you thinking, Lucy?  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

However, what really ties the knot, (see what I did there), about Natsu’s feelings towards Lucy is this:

He wants them to be together forever.

Natsu and Lucy wouldn’t have a stereotypical love confession because they are not a regular couple. Natsu saying he wants to be with Lucy forever just about proves that he loves her. And let’s not forget who else said they wanted to be with their significant other forever:

And who are together and trying for a baby in the final chapter?

From the words they speak to the expression they make, Natsu in no way friend zoned Lucy.

I believe he confessed to her, but in his own sweet, dense little way! He’s too inexperienced to know how to properly confess, and although he initially considered kissing her, it’d be far more like him to aggravate Lucy but confess his love at the same time. After all, he can’t resist teasing her!

Hopefully this put some of your minds at ease, let me all know your opinions and theories, I’d love to hear them! <3 

(Okay, so I’m starting a little “series” thing. I’ve got ideas for all of the Potter-Malfoy kids and I’ll be releasing drawings and headcanons of them. I hope you enjoy!!)

The first of the Potter-Malfoy kids I’d like to introduce you to are Anita and Lyra, the oldest. 

headcanons: 

general: 

  • I imagine there’s lots of muggle-born kids who are given up because of their parent’s thinking their demonic or whatever 
  • + there’s no way any magical government would let them just grow up in foster homes bc they may give off bursts of magic which is multiple kinds of dangerous
  • + since there’s not a humongous wizard population, there’s the possibility that there’s a huge international wizard foster home/orphanage. 
  • I imagine it’s quite multicultural and if a child ends us spending most of their childhood there, it is made sure that they keep their language and culture intact.
  • there are of course kids of other blood statuses, but it’s probably about 75% muggle-born
  • So, on another note: Harry and Draco get married fairly early (about 2000, when their both 19.) 
  • because there’s a huge rush to do things after the war. 
  • everyone who was caught up in it have this urgency in their lives after feeling like they could lose everything in a blink of an eye. 
  • So all these kids go into their adult lives doing things in a rush. they go after their jobs, move back to be near their families, travel, get married etc.
  • Harry and Draco move back to Grimould place bc, even though Harry has shit memories there, he feels the need to continue making it a place full of love. Something it wasn’t when sirius was there. 
  • + since it has (yet again) gone into a bit of disrepair Draco slaps on an apron and cleans the entire fucking house with the help of Molly (bc what are household spells ??? How do those ???)
  • also when Molly gets over Draco’s past and gets to know him she fucking lovES him
  • So Draco + Harry have only been married for a year when they decide they want kids.
  • the big house was so quiet and they both want to be parents so badly, to be the fathers they never had.
  • so they travel out to this international foster home and decide they want a new born child to be their first, so that they can get the “whole experience”. They go through all the background checks and procedures to make sure they’re fit parents.
  • from there on it’s a waiting game
  • they’re notified in December of 2001 that the home has acquired two children from a woman who had given birth days ago + Draco and Harry immediately drop everything to rush down there

Anita + Lyra specific:

  • They’re twin muggle born girls from Morroco and they’re beautiful
  • Draco and Harry fell in love with them instantly and adopt them within the week
  • Draco is absolutely adamant about naming all their kids after constellations as the Black family tradition goes. Thus, Lyra (Narcissa) and Anita (Lily) are decided on.
  • Harry’s totally fine with and suggests that they just take the Malfoy name but Draco’s just like ??? are you insane ? your famous and my family’s nearly extinct ? They’ll have both our names and can decide if they want to go by one or the other (or both) ??
  • They’re identical and after having an extremely hard time telling them apart, Draco goes and buys these head bands, one with flowers and one with stars. Anita is given the flowers and Lyra the stars
  • They’re just bursting with magic from day one. So much so that Draco + Harry are constantly cleaning up things they’ve shattered. But they love it, really.
  • Draco is a stay at home dad bc he can’t stand working at the ministry for another second
  • they try their best to keep their culture with them and buy tons of muggle books to learn Arabic and teach the girls Arabic
  • Harry is “bābā” and Draco is “daddy” 
  • Anita is very soft and says ‘OH!’ (which turns into damn! as she gets older) every time anything is dropped or she accidentally breaks something. She insists on helping cleaning or cooking. She’s a bit shy and smiles with her nose crinkled. She’s incredibly smart but can get herself into mischief and is a bit too good at lying for Harry’s comfort
  • Lyra is a bit more reckless. She’s always laughing and snarking and getting into trouble. But she wears her heart on her sleeve and is so easy to read. she’s also a bit of a whirlwind of emotions. She empathizes so hard with everyone around her that it’s hard for her not to get frustrated 
  • Lucius - who already had an incredibly hard time warming up to the whole Harry and Draco idea in the first time - absolutely flips out when he hears that they’ve adopted muggleborns 
  • + Draco is just not fucking having it though. 
  • and in a heated argument tells Lucius that he’d chose “his girls” over his “shite father” any day and that if Lucius he has a problem with his granddaughters than he has no business coming around Draco’s family ever again because they will not stand that kind of prejudice anymore
  • therefore, the only of his friend’s kids he can allow around L + A is are Blaise’s. (bc Blaise’s mother was nOT here for Voldemort in the first place and neither really was Blasie when push came to shove. ive got about a billion head canons about Blaise’s mum. Someone ask me some day )
  • Narcissa on the other hand is thrilled when Draco tells her she’s a grandmother. She adores them and spoils them with Andromeda. (bc after the war Narcissa stopped giving two flying fucks about the constricted “perfect pureblood” mess she grew up in and for once in her life is just her god damn self, fuck everyone else.)
  • She eventually brings Lucius around. And though, Draco still holds bitterness about the whole situation, he gets past it after Lucius does.
  • Lucius also comes to adore the girls and continues to try to buy them things that are waaay too expensive and grand + Draco is just like “no no no no no. you’re not giving 3 year olds two of the latest broom models. Those are for full grown professional quidditch players for Merlin’s sake!” 
  • Draco is wonderful parent but is very helicopter-esque about the kids getting hurt or doing anything remotely dangerous 
  • while Harry likes to do the whole “living room wrestling” and “foot races through the mud” sort of thing.
  • They eventually create a sort of back yard for the kids at Grimould (sort of like the suitcase world Newt had but obviously smaller) for the kids to race around on their (toddler sized) broom sticks
  • They’re both Slytherins and like a scarier more lowkey Fred and George
  • Mcgonagall has a mini heart attack when she see’s their names on the list of first years (bc what thE FUCK THOSE TWO ARE MARRIED WITH chILDREN)
  • they both decide to go with “Potter-Malfoy” in whole half bc they love people’s expressions when hearing it but on their quidditch jerseys Anita has Potter and Lyra has Malfoy. Anita is a beater and Lyra is a keeper

anonymous asked:

What if Stiles and Derek's first kiss is post-nogitsune? Would he feel like a thief? Would he mourn the body that Derek never held? Would each brush of fingertips or kiss to his temple be a betrayal? They'd probably talk about the scars too. Derek would understand-- to an extent. But he grew up not without his history on his skin so he'll never understand how it feels to have that ripped away.

Their lips brush and Stiles turns away a second later, breaths shallow, hands twitching against the folds of Derek’s shirt. There’s warm breath on his cheek, the ghost of beard still so close and all Stiles can think is that he wants this. He wants this. And…

It’s wrong.

Those fingers, twitching against Derek’s shirt, smooth and uncalloused. The scar that used to live above his third knuckle just a burn-hot memory in his mind.

Everything still feels off in his body, out of balance, and he remembers the way Derek used to look at him. All tension and frustration in ways he couldn’t start to make sense of. And now Derek’s lips are in reach, a short turn away, and he’s murmuring out “Stiles…?” and all Stiles can think is…

“Do you want me?”

He can feel the stall in Derek’s thoughts like a physical reaction, and he wonders if there was a subtle tell or if… if he’d just felt it, inside, the confusion a flicker of chaos in Derek’s chest. Can he do that? Feel chaos? The Nogitsune drank it in and Stiles…

“Stiles,” Derek breathes again, a quirk of amusement in his tone. Thumbs smooth down his hips and Stiles fights the urge to rise into the contact. “Thought I’d just answered that question.”

And Stiles could leave it at that, asked and answered. Except…

There should be a scar on his hip, long and thin, from a fence he’d scaled once and dropped down five times faster. Derek should be feeling that right now, that piece of Stiles’ history, that stupid ten year old adventure laid out across his skin. But the skin’s smooth. Blank slate.

He shivers, gripping tighter into Derek’s shirt.

“No, I––” He can’t think of how to explain it. The thoughts are a choked feeling in his throat, a twist in his gut. Something like guilt and fear and he doesn’t even know what answer he wants when he leans back enough to find Derek’s eyes and say: “Since when? Did you… I mean, before…”

He’s not sure Derek knows what he means, but there’s a hint of flush under that dark beard suddenly, and Stiles gets a little bit lost in the contrast.

“Last summer.”

“Last––?” It pulls Stiles back, his eyes startling up. That was… most of a year, that was before…

A sick lurch sets him falling back out of Derek’s grip. Too-smooth fingers (uncalloused) slip too easy from Derek’s chest. His sneaker-covered feet might as well be walking over glass and he’s being dramatic except that he’s really not. Because if Derek wanted him last summer…

“That wasn’t me.” It sounds wrong as he says it, stupid, because… he was there that summer. He remembers every moment spent with Derek, researching the Alphas, searching for hints of Boyd and Erica. Charged smirks and snark and quiet moments that felt more comfortable than they should. He remembers the moments before summer too, when the thought of Derek made his heart pound and his body thrum in a way that could have only meant fear, except it hadn’t only been fear. He’d been scared of the Alpha too, and the hunters, and that coil of electric heat only sparked through his gut for Derek. He remembers that, like he remembers the scars that aren’t there anymore, and he can’t help running his too-soft fingertips over the smooth flesh of his knuckle as he breathes out, faint and lost, “…Was that me?”

There’s a too long pause while the question burns back into his throat, buzzing through his limbs like a current until he realizes he’s shaking from them. Was that him? Helping Derek track the Alpha pack? Helping Scott learn to control his wolf? Sitting by his mom’s hospital bed, watching her lose the long war to her illness, pieces of her flaking away like old scars, like a whole identity, like––

A warm hand closes over his, large and gentle, grounding.

“It was you,” Derek says, simply. Like there’s no question, like nothing’s changed. Like Stiles hasn’t changed. 

But that’s wrong. He’s not the same person he was before the Nogitsune, and he’s not talking in the experiences change you, huh kind of way. He’d had scars before. He’d had… a whole life written on his skin. And then he’d crawled out from inside his possessed body’s throat, spawned out like some alien parasite or… clone and––

“My body died, back there.” Four months past, and he still can’t wrap his head around it. That he’d watched himself bitten and impaled, spasm and cracking and shatter to dust.

The scarred body. His real body.

And he was left in… this.

Long fingers uncurl, stretching out slow. Thin, pale digits fitting strangely perfect between Derek’s, and Stiles can only wonder what it would have looked like before.

“…What if I’m not real?” He watches Derek’s fingers twitch, barely perceptible, tightening like they’re fighting to hold onto him. And Derek’s lost enough in his life, too much. It’s a dick move to say this, to take anything else away from him, but… “What if the guy you wanted last summer… what if he died inside the Nogitsune, and I’m just––”

No.”

The sureness of it has Stiles’ throat clenching. He tilts his head, challenging. Finds Derek’s eyes again.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you.”

Which is just… it’s stupid how that makes Stiles’ heart jump. Flutter around like it’s fighting to leap the distance between them and plaster itself all up against Derek’s stupid, muscled, secretly sweet as hell chest.

Which… yeah, that’s nearly a gross enough visual to stomp his fondness boner in the bud. He sets his jaw.

“Did you know I used to have a scar on––”

“Your right hand? Just above the third knuckle, a burn.”

Stiles’ argument stalls out. He blinks, finger shifting to rub over the space, but Derek’s is already there, soothing the phantom mark over his skin.

“I… was eleven.” Because silence has never been safe for him. Because noise distracts from the too-easy pleasure rippling up his arm. “First time I tried cooking dinner for me and dad. Mac and cheese, it… didn’t go great.” He wets his lips. Looks away “Or… the other me did, I don’t––”

You did.” And Derek still sounds so damn sure. Stiles wants to believe him. He parts his lips, can’t. Because––

“Stiles, I’ve never had scars on my skin. I… can’t relate to what it’s like to lose them. But the things that have happened to me… they’re not any less real because I can’t see them. Every bullet, cut, punch I’ve taken…” He might sense the wince forming on Stiles’ face, and shakes his head, shrugging that off like it’s not important. But that’s an argument for another day. “Every scar life gave you… they’re still there. You’re still carrying them, inside you.” He flits his eyes down Stiles’ frame, then away, finger soothing over the ghost burn. “There are plenty no one would have ever seen anyway. But they made you. Who you are, and who you are…” He shakes his head, looks back to meet Stiles’ eyes squarely. “You recognized me when I was a teenager. That’s the same person who recognized me in the preserve.” Stiles feels his face heat because… even knowing Derek’s a werewolf now, he’d never put together that Derek would have heard his fangirl moment to Scott after Derek had walked away.

Before he can speak up, though, Derek’s going on. “You tracked me to Mexico. Faced down the Calaveras to save me. That’s the same person who stared down the Argents, drove a Jeep into a kanima, who hit an Alpha with a wooden baseball bat––”

“Two Alphas,” Stiles cuts in, because props, ok? “Two, that were…” His free hand mimes squishing, and Derek’s lips twitch.

“Two,” he agrees, and Stiles can’t not smile back. Just for a second –– fond, helpless –– then he’s ducking his head. Derek sighs, catches his chin. Guides it up until their gazes lock again.

“That was you,” he says, so firmly Stiles can’t help believing this time. “Was the man who clawed his way out of his own possession. Followed Scott’s howl back to the real world. And whatever happened to your body, whatever… magic gave you a new one, Stiles came out with it. Your scars are still there, just…” His fingers trail to Stiles’ chest, and something thumps out eagerly to meet them.

“Inside,” Stiles breathes, and the way Derek’s eyes warm makes him shiver with a proud ripple of pleasure.

“Inside,” Derek echoes. Runs a thumb light along Stiles’ lip. “You could have come out of the Nogitsune looking like anything. Wouldn’t change who you are.”

And damn, Stiles has fallen for a goddamn poet in a grumpy wolf’s body. …But then, Stiles is pretty sure he’d known that already.

His fingers go up, curl gently into Derek’s shirt.

“But… you like this body,” he prompts, and Derek gives an exasperated huff, pulling him in.

“I like this body,” he confirms, and it doesn’t feel wrong to hear that.

When Derek kisses him this time, Stiles doesn’t pull away.

anonymous asked:

I know you probably have a lot of requests with the gods and monsters - but would you ever do an Ares based one?

Zeus’s mistress Io remains in her form of a cow, guarded by Hera’s servant Argus, and Hera is content.

She will remain in that form until her death. Hera hopes that lying with her husband was worth the sacrifice.

Zeus won’t speak to her, unwilling to admit the cow is actually his lover and ensure her death, and equally unwilling to stand against his wife to try and rescue her. Hera has him just where she wants him, and it can’t last, it never does, but she intends to enjoy it while it does.  

Then Artemis comes to her, gold and fierce. She never flinches away from her queen, staring her in the face as if she is nothing more than another of her huntresses. If Hera did not hate her for being her husband’s daughter, she thinks she might actually like the girl. “Io has a destiny,” she says, “you must let her go.”

“I don’t care for her destiny,” Hera says idly, “especially when that destiny involves getting with my husband’s child.”

“She is to give birth to a new line of kings,” Artemis hisses, “to be the wife of a death god, to be mother goddess of a whole new people. She is not meant for us. You must let her go.”

“I am Hera,” she says, “I am Queen. I must do nothing.”

Artemis growls, hand twitching for her bow, but Hera only raises an eyebrow. Let the girl try. There are few that can stand against her, and the huntress is not among them. Artemis lets out a low breath and says, “Do it, my queen, and I will grant you what it is you most desire.”

“Some peace and quiet?” Hera asks.

“A child,” she answers. “Let Io go, let her fulfill her destiny as a goddess of the Black Land of the Nile. If you do that, I, the patron goddess of childbirth, will personally use every ounce of power I possess to ensure you conceive and deliver a child of Zeus.”

Hera’s eyes narrow, “Neither my power nor his has ever been able to achieve this. What makes you think you are any different?”

“We all have our domains,” she says, “just as you cannot command the sea, just as your husband has no power over the art of weaving, so can I ensure a healthy child when you could not.”

She taps her fingers against her throne. They call her a mother goddess, though she’s raised no children. Hephaestus may be her precious son, but he doesn’t know that it was not her that threw him from Olympus. Very few people know that. And she didn’t raise him regardless, that honor belongs to Hecate.

A child, of her and Zeus. A child she can raise.

“I accept,” she announces. “You may take her, and Zeus may fulfill her destiny.” She leans forward, brings the oppressive weight of her power to the fore and lowers the pressure of the air until Artemis is left shivering. “Know this, Patron Goddess of Childbirth. If Io births a son of Zeus before I do, I will travel to the Black Land of the Nile and slay her and her children with my own two hands. Not even Hades will be able to put her back together again.”

“Yes, my Queen,” Artemis says, unable to keep her teeth from chattering.

~

Hera is true to her word. She allows Hermes to think he’s tricked Argus and to steal Io away. She pretends to be outraged at the audacity, at the pure white cow traveling to the sands of the Nile.

Artemis is true to her word. Hera lies with Zeus, like she has so many times before, and a child grows inside of her. One day she stands before her husband and brings his hand to the swell of her stomach, “This is your child.”

Something almost like happiness steals across his face. She forgets, sometimes, that they hate each other only as much as they love each other. After so much time together, many would think it would be one or the other. They simply opted for both.

Artemis is there during the birth, her easy confidence more comforting then Hera will ever admit. Delivering Hephaestus was easy compared to this. She screams and cries and Hestia’s hands on her shoulders are all that keeps her from collapsing and begging someone to just cut the child from her. She doesn’t think she can die in childbirth, not with Artemis between her legs. She wishes she’d thought to ask before this began.

But she does not die. Her son is born, just as healthy and beautiful as Hephaestus was. “Well done,” Artemis says softly, placing the squirming child into her arms.

Zeus touches her hair and kisses his son’s forehead. “We shall call him Ares.”

“Very well,” she agrees, so tired her eyes struggle to stay open.

She hands her son to Hestia, and finally allows sleep to take her.

~

Ares grows into the spitting image of his father. Same copper-red skin, same silky black hair. Her husband keeps it short, but her son lets his grow long. The minutes Hera spends every morning brushing his hair are among her favorite.

He has an eager smile and a soft heart. Hera doesn’t know where he got it, since it’s certainly not from her or Zeus. Demeter tolerates his bumbling after her, though any time Kore attempts to meet her cousin Demeter’s temper frays. Poseidon allows Ares to explore the depths of the sea with a minor sea god acting as his guide. Apollo plays for him, and Artemis teaches him to hunt. Zeus’s lightning doesn’t burn his son, and when storms rage he takes Ares to the top of Olympus and teaches him to throw lightning bolts.

Hera selfishly does not allow Ares to go to the underworld. She knows he would be safe there, that Hades would protect him as he protected Hephaestus, but that’s precisely why she won’t allow it. They got to raise one of her sons already. It pains her to share Ares with them now.

He is happy, and kind, kinder than anyone would expect a child of her womb to be.

“He must choose a domain,” Zeus rumbles, watching Ares shoot arrows with perfect accuracy.

“He is a child still,” Hera says, “let him remain so for a little longer.”

“If he does not choose a domain,” Zeus warns, “one will choose him. We are gods. We must be gods of something.”

She flickers her gaze at him, and he scoots an inch away from her. “He is a child, and for now a child he will remain. We are not Demeter. We shall not thrust the responsibilities and power of a deity on a child who is not prepared for it.”

Zeus disapproves, but says nothing more.

Her son will be the god of something patient, something soft. The god of lost children, of heartbroken suitors, of forgiveness. Something where his gentle heart will aid him instead of hurt him.

She traded her happiness for power. She doesn’t regret it. But Ares doesn’t need to do the same – she’s the most powerful goddess that still walks the earth. He’s her son, and he’ll want for nothing she can provide.

~

Ares is almost fully grown, long hair reaching his hips even braided, and the strength of his limbs is such that he can keep up with Artemis on her most vigorous of hunts, that he can throw his father’s lightning bolts halfway across the world.

He’s been to every place, and met every god of the earth, sea, and sky.

Except for one.

 It’s not hard to find the volcano. He’s strong enough and old enough to take care of himself, and his mother does not worry when he says he’s going to the earth. But he did not tell her where, precisely, on the earth he was going.

He has strong legs.  It’s easy for him to climb to the top of the volcano. He’s almost made it there when something grabs his shoulders, stilling him. He turns, and stares into a single large eye. “What are you doing?” the cyclopes growls.

“I’m looking for Hephaestus,” he says, “He’s my brother.”

“My master has many brothers,” the cyclopes says.

Ares shakes his head. He is not the product of his father’s fling with a sprite or mortal. “I am Ares, son of Zeus and Hera. Just as Hephaestus is. I came here to meet my brother.” The cyclopes hesitates. He asks, “What’s your name?”

“Brontes,” he answers, surprised.

“Brontes,” he smiles, “I just want to meet him. I’ve never met him before. I won’t linger.”

There’s a moment where Brontes looks conflicted, and Ares tries to look as unassuming as possible. “Fine,” he huffs, “but don’t get angry at me if he dips you in lava.”

“That would be fun,” he says brightly. Lightning doesn’t burn him. So far the only thing hot enough to cause him pain is Hestia’s fire. He probably could go swimming in lava.

Brontes looks at him as if he’s slightly unhinged. He just keeps smiling.

~

There are more cyclopes underneath, and bright glittering machines that Ares can’t even begin to wrap his mind around. “Who are you?” someone demands, and a hand grabs his wrist and yanks him away from a boiling vat of lava that he’d been peering into.

He looks up at a man taller and broader than he is. He has skin almost as dark as the obsidian of his volcano, but lighter eyes. They are the color of dark amber, of molasses. “We have the same eyes,” he says happily.

Hephaestus releases him instantly. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?” he asks, “The mortals talk of you. No one else will. But you’re my brother, right?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he repeats, “Does Zeus know where you are?”

He shrugs, taking a step closer. His brother takes a step back. He wonders if he’ll have to treat Hephaestus like a spooked horse.  “Father doesn’t keep track of where I am. Mom know I’m on earth.” Hephaestus flinches, small enough that he almost doesn’t notice. “We have her eyes, you know.”

He can’t stop starring at Hephaestus’s skin. They do not work like mortals – Demeter, Hestia, Zeus, and Hera are all different shades despite coming from the same parents. But – Ares looks so much like his father. Kore looks like Demeter. Yet Hephaestus looks nothing like their father. He can see their mother in him, in the eyes and shape of his jaw, even in how angry he is right now. He looks like Hera does when she’s about to lose her temper, lips pressed into a thin line and the careful stillness of his shoulders.

“I wasn’t trying to make you angry,” he says plaintively, “I only wanted to say hello.”

Unlike their mother, Hephaestus lets out a deep breath and seemingly all of his anger along with it. “I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Why? You don’t even know me.”

Hephaestus kicks him lightly in the shin, the pretty gold and copper of his metal legs catching his eye. “You have legs, and I do not. Hera did not throw you from Mount Olympus as she threw me.”

Ares looks hard at his brother’s face. The stories say his mother threw her son away for being ugly, but he seems just as handsome as any other god Ares has seen. His features are strong and chiseled, and he supposes that could have looked unattractive on a baby, but –

– his mother loves him. Hera loves him with a ferocity only matched by her temper, she loves him at his most mischievous and irritable, loves him when a stray thunderbolt sets Demeter’s hair on end, loves him when even Artemis and Apollo have grown tired of his antics, loves him when Athena can tolerate no more of his questions. He is her son, and so her love comes without conditions.

He doesn’t think Hera would have loved his brother any less just because of how he looked.

He also knows that if he tries to say that, it’s likely Hephaestus will push him into a lava pit.

“Well, that’s not my fault,” he says, “If you don’t want us to be brothers, can’t we at least be friends?”

Hephaestus’s face softens. He looks like their mother then too.  He crosses his arms, “You can’t tell your parents.”

Our parents, he thinks but doesn’t say. “Obviously. Where did you get so many cyclopes?”

The last remnants of his brother’s stern façade shatters as he throws back his head and laughs.

~

Ares is very near maturity, more adult than child, and his father constantly pressures him to choose a domain. He usually quiets with one sharp glance from his wife, but the fact remains that it is time for Ares to take his place among the gods of the pantheon, to have temples in his name and worshipers like a proper deity.

He doesn’t really want any of that.  He wants to continue hunting with Artemis, learning with Athena, building with Hephaestus.

His brother lets him help out in his workshop sometimes, if he’s very careful and does exactly as he’s told. Otherwise he sits on a table, legs swinging, and watches his brother work and tells him about what he does in the time in-between visits. He talks about their mother enough that Hephaestus doesn’t flinch at her every mention, which Ares can only consider an improvement. Sometimes Brontes will stand beside him and they’ll eat sweet buns together.

Unfortunately, all things, good and bad, must come to an end.

~

There are two giants, Otus and Ephialtes, who grow tired of hearing of the golden boy of Olympus, who grow jealous of his kindness and his beauty.

These two giants sneak onto Mount Olympus in the middle of the night, sneak into Ares’s room, and kidnap him. They’re not stupid enough to attempt to kill him. Instead, they stuff him into an urn, and seal him inside. Ares rages and fights, uses every trick he can think of to break out his prison, but none of them work.

Stuck at the bottom of the urn and seething, he can’t help but think that if he’d listened to his father and chosen a dominion he might be strong enough to free himself. But he didn’t, so he can’t, and instead he waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Days turn to weeks turn to months. He knows they’re looking for him. He knows his mother will tear apart the whole universe attempting to find him if nothing else. But – what if they can’t? What if he’s stuck in this urn for the rest of eternity?

In his darkest moments, his sorrow turns to rage. He is a god, son of Hera and Zeus, how dare they do this to him?

Then, one day, the urn opens.

Hermes peers down into it, then his face splits into a grin. “We’ve been looking for you!” He reaches down and hauls Ares out, and for a moment all he can do is blink at the glaring sun. Then his vision clears, and he sees they’re in the midst of a battle. The giants are fighting against the gods, against his parents, against the twins, against his brother. It’s bloody carnage, but – he can’t help but feel touched that all these people came looking for him. “Almost everyone offered to help find you,” he says, “but Hera didn’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves trying to sneak into their territory.”

No sooner has Hermes finished speaking than a giant barrels into his mother with sickening snap. Her shoulder slopes at a grotesque angle, but it hardly even slows her down.

“I have to help,” he says, a desperate urgency filling him. They came to help him, and now they’re getting hurt. That’s never something he’d wanted.

“Ares, wait!” Hermes calls out as he goes hurtling toward the battle. He doesn’t wait. Fighting on the ground can only do so much good, they’re strong but they’re outnumbered one hundred to one. He darts to Artemis, twisting around the bodies she’s throwing over her shoulder. “I need your bow!”

“Ares!” she says joyously, then, “What?”

“Trust me,” he says, “give me your bow.” A giant comes running towards them. Artemis flips him over her shoulder while continuing to stare at him in confusion. He’d be impressed if he wasn’t so worried. “Artemis, please!”

She hands over her bow. She moves to give him her quiver of arrows as well, but he’s already moving away from her. Next it’s to his father, who’s hurtling lightning bolts towards the swarm of giants crowding him. They’re deadly, but only so effective at close-range. He grabs a sizzling lightning bolt right from Zeus’s hand, the only being on the planet who could do that and survive, and keeps running. “Get clear!” he calls out over his shoulder. “Everyone move!”

He runs up past Hermes, needing to get to high ground for this to work. “Get everyone off the battlefield,” he says to Hermes. “Now.”

Hermes pulls a face, but by the time he makes it to the top of the mountain, the gods have shaken off most of the giants, are far enough away that he doesn’t have to worry.

He can do this. He’s Ares, the son of Hera and Zeus. He’s been trained in archery by the great huntress herself. He breaths in, and strings his father’s lightning bolt like an arrow. He pulls it back, breaths out, and lets the lightning bolt fly.

It lands in the middle of the battlefield full of confused giants. With a great clap of thunder and a burst of light, they’re all gone.

All that remains of the traitorous giants is a crater.

The gods are approaching him, his mother at a limping gait that makes his chest ache. Zeus gets to him first, grin stretched wide as he grabs him by both his shoulders. “My boy! That was magnificent!”

“Thanks,” he says. The smell of charred flesh is in the air, and it makes his stomach roll.

They kidnapped him. They stuffed him in an urn for over a year. They hurt his mom.

That doesn’t mean he enjoyed it. He never wants to do anything like that ever again.

“This was destiny,” his father says enthusiastically, and Ares has no idea what he’s talking about. “This is what you’re meant to do, son.”

He stares. He hopes it’s not.

The other gods are still at the bottom of the mountain. Artemis and Apollo each have one of his mother’s arms slung over their shoulders and are helping her up the mountain. Hermes and Hephaestus aren’t far behind.

He’s never seen his father look so proud of him. There’s a leaden pit in his stomach he can’t explain.

“In honor of my son’s great feat,” Zeus booms, his voice carrying across air, speaking with the voice of the king of the gods so his words become law, so they spread to every corner of the world, “I declare him Ares, God of War.”

Ares can’t breathe.

This isn’t what he wanted.


gods and monsters series, part xvii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

anonymous asked:

So apparently, baby ducks can imprint. How what would happen is that one day Derek just walks into Deaton's clinic with about ten baby ducks in his arms, which had been following him around all day since they decided for some reason that he is their mom and refused to let him out of their sight .

Derek totally didn’t name them, but, “I think Patrice has abandonment issues.” 

“Abandonment issues?” Deaton asked, blinking, and then “Patrice?” 

Derek just glared, averting his gaze. Alright, so he had named him. But only because it made them easier to tell apart. “Yes,” he gritted through his teeth, holding out the baby ducks for Deaton to take. “I can’t look after them. So here, you have to take them.” 

Deaton shook his head. “I think you’re doing just fine, Derek,” he said in a way that could either mean ‘fuck off’ or ‘these ducklings are part of some bigger plan that I’m not going to tell you about’ and then walked away. Just like that. 

The bastard.

~

Later that evening, Stiles came home to find Derek….and several ducklings on his bed. 

“Please tell me that’s not the pack,” was the first thing he said, panicked that he wasn’t feeling just as panicked about that scenario as he should be. He wasn’t going to lie and say the thought of Jackson being turned into a baby duck didn’t amuse him. 

Greatly.

“No, it’s not the pack,” Derek answered, rolling his eyes, letting one crawl into his hands. “I think….” he frowned. “I don’t think they have…parents.”

“Oh?” Stiles asked, carefully watching Derek’s face. 

“Yeah, “ Derek nodded, all serious and utterly adorable. “And….I don’t know what to do.”  It was hard to read Derek most of the time, but Stiles thought he was getting better at it and this was definitely Derek speak for: ‘I found these baby animals and now I am scared I’m going to hurt them because I don’t have the best track record. SOS, send help, I am a tragic, brooding, beautiful mess’.

Okay, so maybe not the last part. But Stiles was definitely on to Derek.

Derek looked up at Stiles then, as if reading his thoughts, like Stiles had all the answers to the universe. Usually, Stiles was flattered when Derek came to him for help. Well, not flattered, per se. Smug. Smug was the word he’d use. He liked being smug around Derek, his own personal fucked up foreplay. But right now, something different was tingling in the pit of his stomach. He felt warm, and maybe just a little bit helpless. He wasn’t sure if it was a feeling he necessarily liked. 

“Well, how about we start with a pond?” he suggested, leaning back against his bedroom door, resisting the urge to grab his phone and snap a picture.

“A pond?” Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean, like, build a pond?” He started shaking his head, like the thought terrified him. 

Silly, beautiful wolf.

Stiles shrugged. “Why not? You have the money, don’t you? Plus, I think they like you.” He winked and Derek flushed, right to the tips of his ears. Stiles laughed.

“Come on, sourwolf,” he grinned, shaking his head, picking up his backpack from where he had dumped it on the floor. “Let’s go make us a home.” 

~

“It’s your turn to feed them,” Stiles groaned, turning in Derek’s arms. He swore he could hear the ducks already quacking impatiently. “Please, babe, I’ll do anything if I don’t have to get up right now. I’ll even blow you. Twice. It’s so waaaaaarm.” He stretched, like the lazy cat he was, and smiled all the way down to his toes. 

“Don’t call me ‘babe’,” was the only reply he received.

Stiles groaned again. “Sweetheart?” he tried, instead. “Honey? Chicken pot pie of my life?” 

For that, his Derek Hale shaped cover was snatched away from him. 

“What’s wrong with chicken pot pie???” he yelled, heart broken. Utterly, utterly heart broken. No, betrayed. Derek was mean. 

“Nothing, if you want to stay married to me, noodle.

Stiles grimaced. Okay, they’d work on their pet names for each other outside of sex later. They couldn’t just stick with ‘asshole’ - it was starting to lose its meaning when they fought. 

Shoving a pillow in Derek’s face, because when was that ever not satisfying, Stiles crawled to the side of the bed - and because he had no dignity - rolled out of it. “See if you get any sex when I get back,” he called over his shoulder, grabbing Derek’s boxers on the way out of the door.  

Derek only grinned when Stiles looked back, already falling back to sleep. 

Stiles refused to find it adorable. 

So I got bored and checked the weather for both Almaty and St. Petersburg and they're hilariously different so here's an otayuri drabble

Why the hell Yakov was making him practice in this heat, Yuri had no idea. But he hated him for it.

Sure, it wasn’t drastically hot, but 19°C was hot for St. Petersburg, and Yuri could be enjoying the weather if A: it wasn’t so humid, and B: Yakov wasn’t making him practice.

Yuri tipped his head back, the vertebrae in his neck creaking and tense muscles stretching.

“Hey Yakov-”

“Give me a perfect triple axel into a spread eagle and you’re free to go.” The old man told him, drinking from the water bottle handed to him by Lilia.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Yuri said, exasperated. “In this heat?”

“Vitya’s been making Katsuki practice his quads all day, at least I’m not that cruel.” Yakov shrugged.

“Actually, I’m doing this voluntarily.” Yuuri called, taking off and landing a frustratingly perfect quad flip.

“I’ve been trying to make him come home for hours Yakov, this is none of my doing.” Viktor groaned, leaning against the barrier and wiping his brow.

“You said it yourself Vitya,” Yuuri shrugged, pulling off an effortless triple axel into a spread eagle. “I’m going to need to try my best to beat you.”

“I’ve created a monster. I’m doomed.” Viktor sighed defeatedly, gazing at Yuuri.

“And Yurio-” He started, trailing lazily around the rink.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m not stopping until I have both records, so I suggest you watch yourself.”

“Getting cocky, now are we, Katsudon?” Yuri asked, cocking a brow.

“Well it’s not the only thing I’m getting.” Yuuri shrugged, taking off into a perfect quad salchow, winking at Viktor as he landed.

“What the fuck have you done to him, Vitkor?” Yuri asked, slightly disgusted at the innuendo.

“I don’t know!” Viktor said exasperatedly.

“Alright, that’s it.” Yakov sighed. “Katsuki, get your ass out of my rink before you kill yourself.”

“I’m not even tired though.” Yuuri sighed, taking off into a quad loop.

“You’re hell bent on destroying my skaters and I can’t have that. Get out before you hurt yourself.” Yakov said firmly.

“But-”

“Yuuri.” Mila started. “We adore you, you’re sweet and talented and everything but with every jump you land, Yakov pushes us that much harder, so please, for the love of god, get the fuck out of the rink.”

“Okay, okay.” Yuuri sighed, finally skating off of the rink, Mila earning an exhausted ‘thank you’ from Viktor, who followed behind Yuuri.

“Yura. Triple axel. Now.” Yakov said firmly, folding his arms.

“Seriously?!”

“Yes. Now.”

“I’d like to see you do it, old man.” Yuri huffed, crossing his arms.

“Just do it, Yuri.” Yuuri called. “Anyway, we’re leaving for today, guys.”

“Finally!” Georgi groaned.

“Please take like, the next week off, you’re making us look bad.” Mila joked.

“No actually do, you’re driving me insane.” Yuri called.

“And Yakov said I couldn’t coach anyone.” Viktor smirked, pecking Yuuri on the cheek.

“Just leave already.” Yakov sighed. “Yuri, triple axel. I’m waiting.”

“For fucks sake, do I have to?”

“Do you want to lose the Olympics?”

“… fine.”

“That’s what I thought.”


Yuri unlocked his dorm, dumping his duffle bag at the door and kicking his shoes off. It’d been a week since Yakov and Lilia’s asshole of a son kicked Yuri out of his mother’s house.

He stalked over the mini fridge in the corner of his room, opening it and pulling out a cold can of fanta, wrenching open the tab and flopping down on his bed.

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, unlocking it and opening up whatsapp, ignoring the 689 missed texts from the Barcelona GPF group chat and scrolling to Otabek’s contact, selecting video call.

Otabek picked up after around the 3rd ring, and the imagine Yuri was greeted with wasn’t what he expected.

A flushed, tanned, sweaty, muscular chest and a giggling little girl in the background. The camera shakily carried up to Otabek’s face, where it was obvious that he older boy was fast asleep.

“Bekaaaa!” Giggled the little girl, a bony little hand with garish pink nail polish and ratty bracelets pressing down on Otabek’s chest. “Oyanw! Beka! Käne Beka!”

Otabek made a weird noise between a snort and a squawk, eyes snapping open suddenly as he lurched forwards.

“Sälem aytşı Yura!” The little girl giggled.

“Natya…” Otabek murmured groggily. “Nege telefonım bar?” He asked, reaching for the phone and pulling the little girl to the side. “Bul öte jaramsız.” He scolded, blowing a raspberry into the little girl’s cheek.

“Um… is this a bad time?” Yuri asked awkwardly, taking a sip from his soda can. “I can go…”

“Crap! Yura, I forgot. Sorry, I fell asleep and my little sister took my phone-”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Yuri shrugged. “It’s kinda cute.”

Otabek laughed, ruffling his sister’s messy black hair.

“Sälem Yura!” She grinned, waving at the screen.

“She says hi.” Otabek grinned, translating.

“Hi Natalia.” Yuri smiled, waving back, earning a gap-toothed grin from the little girl.

“Natya, Siz bizden kete alasız ba?” Otabek asked his sister, slipping back into his native tongue.

She nodded, waving at the screen.

“Bayt Yura!” She giggled, running off.

“She’s adorable.” Yuri smiled, sipping from the can again.

“I know.” Otabek grinned.

“Did you teach her to call me that?”

“Call you what?”

“To call me Yura?”

“She’s called you that since she saw you on TV at the Russian Nationals two years ago.”

“Why though?”

“Don’t look at me, she just does.”

Oh, Yuri was look at him.

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“Huh?”

“You’re half naked. At least I think you are… I can only see your chest.”

“I’m wearing underwear if that’s what you’re asking.” Otabek snorted, flashing Yuri a crooked grin.

“Really? No pants?”

“It’s too hot.” Otabek shrugged, reaching for a something offscreen and bringing a glass of water to his lips.

“Seriously? Isn’t it like, 19°C? Kinda pathetic. And that’s coming from a Moscow native.”

“It’s 36°C over here.” Otabek said flatly.

“Damn, your coach makes you practice in that heat?” Yuri asked incredulously.

“Nah. Training’s cancelled. He’s passed out in the porch.”

“Lucky bastard. Yakov’s been forcing me to train.” Yuri huffed.

“Watch your language, Yura. My family is in the vicinity.”

“I’m like 300 miles away they can’t hurt me.”

“My cousin will find you. You know what Aleks is like.”

“And I hope you boys are keeping it PG-13!” Came the call of cousin in the background, causing Otabek to flush slightly.

“ALEKS!”

“I’m just saying! Your mother wouldn’t be too happy if she saw you-”

“Aleks, sabırlılıqtı toqtatıñız Beka!” Came a call.

“Dude I can hear like, your entire family, where are you?”

“In my back yard.” He shrugged, switching the camera so Yuri could get a view of the lush, green garden, and the hammock Otabek was laying in.

“Its huge!” Yuri gasped. “Your family must be loaded!”

“My mother was an Olympic silver medalist. That kind of set us up for quite a while, then I started to send money home whenever I got it.” Otabek shrugged. “Joq, Natya, şlangini tömenge ornatıñız!”

Yuri heard giggling in the background, along with running water. Otabek shifted, the camera shaking a bit as he moved.

“My sister has a hose, I’m going inside.” He explained as a jet of water splashed behind him. “Nope nope nope nope. Not today.”

“Are you afraid of getting wet, Beka?”

“No I just don’t want to get- AH!”

“Are you okay?” Yuri asked, cocking an eyebrow at the maniacal cackling heard in the background.

“Yeah, my sister just got me in the ass while I was running inside.”

“Damn, good aim.”

“Yeah,” He said, camera shaking as he went up the stairs, opening the door to his room and pushing in. “Yura?”

“Still here.”

“I’m gonna need to change but I’m too lazy to disconnect the call, can I just put you against a pillow so you don’t see anything?”

“Sure.” Yuri shrugged, tossing his empty soda can into the trash.

The screen went a dark reddish-brown colour as it was pressed against the pillow, the camera suddenly flipping just as the screen went black.

Yuri could see Otabek pull away, turning around and pulling down the damp, dark grey boxers.

What the hell was Yuri supposed to do?!

The rational thing to would be to tell Otabek 'hey the camera accidentally flipped and I can see your ass and probably dick but I’m not sure’, but for some reason Yuri couldn’t speak.

Otabek turned in the direction of the camera, humming to himself as he stopped up the boxers and tossed them into the laundry hamper at the edge of his room, walking over to a chest of drawers and pulling out a pair of boxers.

Otabek quickly pulled the boxers on, rooting through the drawers and pulling out some shorts and a t-shirt, putting those on too.

He reached for the camera, which suddenly flipped back to front facing as it was being pulled away from the pillow.

“Sorry I took so long- Yura, are you okay?” Otabek asked, suddenly concerned.

“Y-yeah I’m fine. Why are you asking me?” Yuri stammered awkwardly.

“Your face, it’s all… red. Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah yeah I’m fine! I’m just a bit hot and sweaty from practice, I should probably shower.” Yuri said quickly.

“Okay…” Otabek murmured, unconvinced. “If you don’t feel better after the shower, call Viktor or Yuuri or someone like that. And make sure you drink a lot of water. And eat properly. None of that energy bar nonsense-”

“Okay mom, jeez. I’m fine, really.” Yuri said, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t get smart with me, young man.” Otabek said jokingly.

Yuri rolled his eyes, snorting.

“Bye Beka.”

“I’ll see you later, okay? I’ll call you later.”

“I really can’t stop you can I?”

“Nope.”

Yuri laughed, ending the call and flinging his phone onto the other end of the bed and pressing his hands into his face.

Otabek is hung like a fucking horse.

——-

I just winged it ok sorry

anonymous asked:

Maybe Dark!Annabeth fighting a child of the big three and she knows that defeating them with physical, raw power isn't possible, so she attacks mentally. She defeats them with words, something Annabeth constantly does throughout the books to her enemies. Making them so angry, distracted, and/or sad that they lose focus and she easily takes the victory.

Annabeth feels him coming before she sees him.

There’s a charge in the air. A gathering static that threatens to strike with every movement she makes, but never quite gets the guts to do so.

That’s Jason Grace for you. Son of Jupiter, chosen of Juno, and just a touch too soft to do what needs to be done. Oh sure, he’ll kill monsters if he needs to, but when the monsters are gods, his solution is to become a priest.

It’s about finding a compromise, he’d said. And making sure that we’re heard.

Annabeth’s finding there are better ways of making noise.

“You got here faster than I expected,” she remarks as he touches down in front of her. She’s perched on the crumbling remnants of a wall that’s thousands of years old. Some small, distant part of her regrets what is about to happen here, but not enough to change course.

“Your pattern’s getting old,” he says. His gladius is out and he holds it warily between them. Annabeth keeps her drakonbone sword at her side. “The others can hold Percy off long enough for me to stop what you’re doing.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You’re the only one coming?”

He tries to hide his grimace, but that’s the danger with fighting your friends. They can read you too well, and a smile curls over Annabeth’s mouth at the confirmation. She hops off the wall, landing lightly on the dirt.

“What made you think I’d be at Pompeii?”

Lightning crackles in the sky overhead, raising the small hairs at the back of her neck. He nods at the scaffolding in the distance, empty of workers this early in the morning. It’s a grim dawn, about to get darker.

“No tourists today. You might’ve turned against the gods, Annabeth, but you’re not a murderer.”

Isn’t she? Annabeth has lost count of the number of monsters she’s put in the ground (under the ground). How many demigods died in the war with Kronos? They bleed red the same as mortals, and her hands are as stained as anyone’s.

So are Jason’s, and irritation pricks at her face. She smooths it away with a cool smile, carefully tracking him as he starts to circle her. She has a certain amount of faith in Jason’s willingness to ‘save’ his friends, but she’s not an idiot.

“So I should start picking locations with people if I don’t want you to interfere, is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s obviously not what I’m saying.” His gaze flickers over the ruins stretching behind her. “So this is all rigged to blow, huh?”

“Leo does good work.”

He winces. He can play on whatever friendship the two of them might have had all he likes, but that betrayal is the real knife in the guts and they both know it. Annabeth coerces her expression into concern, the cogs of her brain turning the right muscles to give it the realism it needs. She takes a half step forward, and Jason doesn’t step away.

“He misses you, you know.” Her voice is a soft thing. Caring. “Misses both of you.”

“If he misses us so bad, he should come and see us.”

“You really think we’re going to be welcome at Camp after all this?

“You haven’t killed anyone.”

The yet sits between us, and it doesn’t matter anyway. The gods would be more likely to forgive her if she had killed someone. They could have murdered thousands of mortals and not been struck down, if they’d just done it far away from the last vestiges of godly power in this world.

Gaea had plotted to bring down Mt Olympus, and that’s definitely on Annabeth’s list. But she’s always been a methodical sort of girl, and divine power runs deep. Best to stamp out all traces of it, one relic at a time.

She sighs. “We don’t plan to. You know that.”

“You’re trying to kill the gods!” Lightning cracks again, closer now. It takes more strength than Annabeth wants to admit to to avoid reaching for her weapon.

“And how many times have they tried to kill us? At best they don’t give a shit, Jason, you know that.”

But he’s shaking his head. They’ve had this fight before, all of them, enough times that she could probably just record it for him to save energy. He’s long since stopped listening to sense, and she doesn’t bother with more than a cursory attempt to convince him.

“You’re too late for this one,” she says. “I’m proud of you for getting here before it blows, but you were right. It’s ready to go.”

His grip shifts on his sword. And - there’s something in his expression that prompts her to brace for an attack, because it’s not defeat. This time, she thinks. This time might be the one where I push too far.

It’s sad, sort of, but relief swamps that soon enough. It’s not that she wants to fight old friends, but it would make everything a lot simpler. To just be able to fight, without caring what happens to them anymore. To draw battlelines instead of blurring them

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he growls. “But even if the rest of your team is ready to destroy this place, they’ll stop once you’re a hostage.”

Annabeth laughs. It’s a miscalculation, but she can’t help herself. “The others might. But hell itself couldn’t keep Percy Jackson from me, Jason, and you’re no Tartarus.”

“I can deal with Percy.”

He can’t. She wonders idly if he knows that. Everyone’s aware of Percy’s power these days, but that’s what he’s like with her at his side. Jason, she suspects, still has a little too much optimism left about what Percy’s self control would be like without her. What it would be like if he even thought she was in danger.

“Right, well, that’ll be your mistake to live with.” She squints up at the sky, trying to judge her next play. Being a hostage would accelerate certain things that she’s not ready to set into motion just yet. Most of all, she doesn’t think that Percy is quite as ready to fight the others as she is.

Not yet.

“You made a miscalculation,” she said finally. “You always want to go for the biggest player, Jason. It’s one of your biggest weaknesses.”

“You can’t talk your way out of this, Annabeth.” His body moves, and she can almost trace the lines in the air, the familiar forms he’s about to slide into. “You’re coming back to Camp wth me.”

He lifts his blade, wreathed in lightning. She smells ozone on the air, the threat of violence wafting in behind it. She clasps her hands behind her back, and lays down her hand.

“Where’s Piper, Jason?”

Everything stops. Nature itself holds its breath as those too-blue eyes widen in sheer panic, before narrowing at her.

“Piper’s your friend. You wouldn’t hurt her.”

Annabeth waits. She doesn’t need to say anything. The silence between them does it for her. The even sound of her breathing. The shroud of absolute confidence holding her shoulders straight.

You are not going to take me, her body says, like it’s all a foregone conclusion.

“She can handle herself,” he tries again, and there’s the edge of desperation that she’s been waiting for. Enough to cloud his thinking. He might not think she’s a murderer, but there are other atrocities. Things she hasn’t held back from in the opening numbers of this new war.

“Against Percy?”

That’s a risk. Because they both know that Percy isn’t steady, isn’t stable, that his relationship with Piper had been tenuous at best and that without Annabeth there, his temper might just get away with him. Piper has her Charmspeak, but there are ways around everything if you have enough power.

It’s a risk, because Jason’s anger could always outweigh his fear. He could always take it out on her rather than fly off for Piper. Annabeth is confident in her ability to take him with a sword, but Jason comes with all those bonus add-ons that children of Athena just aren’t privy to.

So she gives him one last push. Just to make sure.

“Tartarus has so many doors,” she says softly. That same quiet concern from before, turned deadly now. “You know we found all of them, right Jason?”

He spits a curse, something in Latin about the gods and what he hopes they’ll do to her. She watches him leap into the sky, shading her eyes against the rising sun until he’s no more than a dot in the distance.

“You say that like they haven’t already done their worst,” she murmurs, before turning back to the ruins.

There’s work to be done.

They’re so cute when they’re asleep

Request:Can you do Drabble 6 & 14 combined like maybe in the avengers tower 😉😉 

Okay I know I’m requesting imagines like crazy, but could I request 11, 12, and 14 with Peter Parker? Something where the Avengers tease the reader and Peter (but especially the reader) because they have crushes on each other? Thank you so, so much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

A/N: Okay so this is me attempting to use the prompts “I need a place to stay”, “they’re so cute when they’re alseep,” , “ this is by far the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in,” , “ the way you flirt is shameful,” , “ it’s just rain you aren’t gonna melt,”………. lets see how this goes

TAGS: @agentmalfoy24601 @teddysiupin @palebun-16 @whovian1077  @philipshaaayyyy  @smazztastic  @undoroos @justsomeweirdfan  @annymcervantes @julietheree

“Mr Stark, I-I was wondering if you could help me with something,”

“Is it your Spanish homework? ‘cause you’d have better luck talking to a wall than asking me for help,”

“No no, it’s not that, I asked this girl out on a date and-”

Tony dropped everything, and finally looked at Peter fully attentive, and interrupted his spiel, “Please tell me it was y/n you asked,” he appealed. Peter scrunched his eyebrows, confused at how Mr. Stark easily guessed who. He stuttered over his words, unable to reply, “Friday, tell Nat that she owes me $10″

Peter’s confusion morphed into shock, “Were you guys betting on us?” he asked in disbelief, as the computer system replied to his request,

“I was, Natasha not so much,” Tony answered nonchalantly, “she figured you’d never work up the courage. As per-usual, I was right,”

Peter was at a loss for words. Although, he did feel a little sense of reassurance that Mr. Stark had some faith in him, 

“Anyways, continue,” Tony pushed,

“Okay, so, I’m taking her out tonight, and I’m really nervous-”

“Predictable,”

“and I just don’t want to mess this up, so I was hoping you’d be willing to help me out by kind of being my, wing-man,”

“your wing-man?”

“Yeah,”

There was a pause between the two, as Tony blinked at the young boy,

“That was a little on the vague side, so right now my answer is no, I’m not chaperoning two school kids’ date,” He said turning away from Peter, and returning to his work,

“Where is it you’re taking her?” Peter heard a feminine voice ask behind him. He jumped slightly and looked to find Natasha strutting her way towards the two. He hesitated before answering her, “I don’t know, I was thinking, dinner then a movie?” he said, more as a question than a statement.

“Boring!” Tony exclaimed, not bothering to face them. 

Peter sighed and slouched, “Well y/n’s never been on a date before. If you do it right, then it’d be the perfect night,” Nat pointed out,

“Exactly, so I was hoping that, if I wore an earpiece, then Mr. Stark could kind of coach me through it,” Peter suggested warily.

Nat shook her head, “You want Tony Stark as you’re wing-man?” she asked pointing to the man. Peter nodded his head, “This is, by far, the stupidest plan you’ve ever had,” she deadpanned.

Tony swirled around in his chair, with a mischievous smirk, “And with me, being an intellectual, of course I’m in,”


You couldn’t tell what you were feeling. Some of it was happiness that Peter Parker has finally asked you out, which was followed by nervousness because of the fact that you’d be going on a date with him. A part of you felt sick, and horrible because the possibility of this date ending terribly and therefore ruining a perfectly good friendship was looming above you.

You and Peter had been friends for years, having gone to the same school together and sharing some of the same assignments that Tony gives you. You were always called in on the less extreme tasks,due to having no superpowers but mad combat skills. 

You huffed yet again as you stood in front of your mirror, and smoothed down your outfit. Screw it, you thought, and waited out in your living room for Peter.

Peter took deep breathes as he approached your door. A sweat began to break out on his forehead, “Have you reached the door yet?” Tony asked in his ear. Peter sighed, this was the fourth time he’s asked, “Yes,” Peter snapped in a hushed tone,

“About time. Now knock,”

“I figured that much out for myself actually,”

“Don’t get snippy with me, you asked for my help,”

“I’m beginning to regret it,” Peter groaned, before knocking on your door.

Your head shot to the direction of the door, before getting up and slowly opening it. 

Peter stood with a wide smile, cherry red cheeks and a bunched bouquet of pink roses. Your cheeks flushed to match his, as you gasped, “Peter,” you drew out. This made his smile beam a little more. You smiled along with him and giggled from his kind gesture, “Come in,” you welcomed him, opening your door wider.

You turned away, and buried your nose in the flower pedals.

“Did she like the flowers?” Tony asked Peter,

“I-I think,” Peter quickly whispered under his breath, making sure you wouldn’t notice. 

You place the bouquet in a vase and made your way back to Peter, “Ready to go?” he smiled at you. 

“Tell her she looks nice,” Peter’s wing-man pestered,

“You-” he began, but was cut of,

“Unless she doesn’t, then scratch that. Wait maybe you should tell her anyway,”

Looking at Peter confusingly, you cocked an eyebrow. He gave you a reassuring smile, and placed a hand on your lower back, “You look good tonight,” he complimented, “you always look good,” he emphasized more for Tony to take a hint,

“smooth, spidey,” you commented, letting him lead you out of your place,

“That compliment was more for me. I’m taking it.”


It felt unusual, to be on a date with Peter Parker. A date that didn’t involve studying with an old friend, but more so, a night with a different unusual feeling between you two with formal clothes and flattery.

Your heart pounded a little harder and breath hitched when Peter showed off his goofy smile. You weren’t sure if you had ever felt that way before, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re feeling it now with Peter. 

You had finished eating and were now relaxing at the table. 

“Have I already told you how amazing you look tonight?” Peter asked you, eyes glazed over in a daze,

“This is the third time probably,” you answered with a sweet smile and rosey cheeks, 

The way you flirt is shameful. She’s already sick of it,” Peter heard Tony.

He pursed his lips, “Who taught you? You’re just repeating the same things. Was it May?” 

“Oh wow look at it pour outside,” Peter spoke distracting himself from Tony,

“Nice try, I’m still here,”

“Do you want to wait in here till it stops?” Peter offered you,

“It’s just rain, you aren’t going to melt,” 

“Tony!” 

Swinging your head around from the window to Peter, you repeated, “Tony?”

Peter’s mouth bobbed, his eyes grew to saucers. You gave him a side glance, “Is he here?” you pondered suspiciously.

“um-uh-n-no”

“Think of something quick, underoos,”

“I just- uh- just remembered that Tony, offered for us to watch a movie at the tower…..tonight,” Peter squeaked 

“No I didn’t,”

“He did?”

“Y-yeah, he figured that that would be better than us spending money at the theater, or just me spending money, and you fighting me to pay your way in,” Peter explained uncomfortably, unsure if what he said came out right.

“That’s a little uncharacteristic of him,” you pointed out, 

He searched and searched his brain to quickly produce a reasonable explanation for “Tony’s proposal”. An unusually sly smirk skipped across Peter’s lips as he thought back to how outraged he felt when discovering that the two Avengers betting on and against him and his crush,

 “Yeah well, he owes us one,”

“Be ready for ridicule,”


                                       TO BE CONTINUED

inevitable realizations ☼ peter parker

summary : peter’s always been a little bit in love with you, it just took a difficult night and warm, ever comforting words for him to come to the realization. intelligent he may be, but he’s a clueless teenage boy before anything else.

word count : 2.5k

   It was eleven o’clock at night and, as per usual, you were neglecting the sleep you desperately needed in order to finish up the notes on your assigned reading novel that were due in just a few short hours. You were never one to finish tasks, especially menial ones such as homework, in a timely fashion. This was just the tip of the iceberg. You briefly took off your glasses, rubbing your tired eyes that were now struggling to focus on the words in front of you properly. When you slipped them back over your nose, glancing up toward your bedroom window that lead out to the fire escape, you saw the familiar face of your best friend peering in through the glass in a way that was only slightly creepy. 

   Peter knocked rapidly on the glass, waving at you in the typical, hyperactive way that he always had about him. You jumped off your bed, reaching out to shut your bedroom door before walking over to the bay window and unlocking it. A rush of cold winter air nipped at your face the minute it swung open and Peter Parker shoved himself through. Visits from him in this particular manner were common, especially after a day’s work of fighting crime throughout various parts of New York, but not usually this late- and never without a text to alert you first.  

    “You must be freezing,” you shivered, closing the window quickly. “How long were you out there?” Making yourself comfortable on your bed once again, you propped open your book, ready to force him into helping you study. He didn’t answer. Instead, he drew his sweatshirt closer to his body, sliding to the floor beside your bed and leaning his head against the soft duvet. His curls were sticking up in every direction when he pulled his hood away, his cheeks and the tip of his nose a brilliant shade of red, but not from the bitter chill that was sweeping mercilessly over Queens. 

   You heard a distinct sniff, then another, then another. His breathing, already shallow from the frantic climbing he had done to reach your fire escape, became even more labored. He pulled his knees to his chest to hide his face. He felt you press yourself against him, your arms around his shoulders and across his chest before he could pull away in embarrassment. Your glasses creaked when they pushed too far into his shoulder. Neither of you moved. You clung to him and he sat there, silently shaking and leaning into your embrace as if it were the only thing keeping him from falling apart. 

   “Hey, hey, shh, shh, Peter, you’re okay,” you whispered, rubbing his back. “I’ve got you, I promise. You’ve gotta breathe, though, okay?” He was always ashamed of his sensitivity, but he couldn’t help it. He was a sensitive boy and he cried easily and had an awful lot of anxiety sometimes. Today was one of those days, with good reason. He nodded stiffly, maneuvering himself to hug you back, face pressed into your shoulder this time. 

   “It’s… the anniversary,” he said, his voice broken. “One year.” Hollow. “One year since- since Ben. One year tomorrow.” 

   He pulled away, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his oversized sweatshirt. There were traces of tears still making their way down his cheeks, sliding across his nose and down to his lips. He tried to rub them away, too, but you caught his wrist in your hand. 

   “You’re not wrong or less of a dude for crying, Peter.” The way you looked at him, so lovely and caring and worried, made his heart cry out for the safety of your embrace again. “Were you at the cemetery?” You matched his stance and rested the side of your cheek on your knee, still carefully studying his face. 

   “Yeah,” he exhaled, placing his chin in his palm. “I’m gonna go again in the morning with May. Gonna miss school. I- I probably should’ve, um, stayed with her tonight but I…” he trailed off, “I needed you.” He said it as he said most things to you, with his soft tone of voice and his hesitance that made him, him. He never really noticed until now. 

   “What are best friends for, right?”  

    “Yeah. Best friends.” 

    Ignoring the odd way those two words slipped out of his mouth, you said, “I’m sorry, Peter. I know you loved Uncle Ben so much. I’m sorry, you don’t deserve this. You and May don’t deserve this.” You reached out to him, your hand gripping his without an ounce of doubt. You had small hands and he didn’t but he felt a thousand times better when yours found his. “I’m always here for you. Do you wanna talk about it?” 

   Surprisingly, he shook his head adamantly. “No, no.” He squeezed your hand. “I kind of, um, just wanna go to bed. Crying like a little baby really tires a guy out, you know?” He gave a weak laugh, a tiny grin, and you smiled right back at him before pulling him to his feet. “Can I use the bathroom?” He needed to wash the sticky feeling of dry tears off his face, rub the sadness out of his eyes. He wanted to be strong for May when he got back in the morning. 

   “Of course, just be quiet. Mom and dad are asleep.” You padded across your rug and opened your door a crack, holding it in a specific way so that it wouldn’t creak when you let Peter through. He gave you a grateful squeeze of the hand again before disappearing into the bathroom. 

    He splashed water on his face, staring up at his reflection, at the water dripping off his eyelashes and the curling ends of the hair that was plastered to his forehead. He rubbed at his face and took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to cry anymore. You had sufficiently comforted him for the night. Peter could breathe again. 

   Peter quietly walked back down the hallway and into your bedroom, watching for a second as you pulled spare blankets down from a shelf in your closet and arranged them on your bay window. You had cleared your bed of your school supplies and had left the covers open for Peter to crawl into without a second though. Which he did. Your covers smelled quite lovely, actually. It was the scent of your perfume that you wore often enough for him to recognize the scent, and he wanted to fall asleep under the inviting covers that were laid out for him. Then, he saw you sit atop your window, about to lie down. 

   “Wait, why are you doing that?” He got out of bed and took your hand for the third time that night, growing accustomed to the feeling of it. He pulled you over to your bed. “You’re not sleeping on a stupid window. That’s ridiculous. I’ll take the window.” He spun you around and ignored the protestant noise you made, gripping your shoulders and sitting you down on the bed. 

   “I’m not letting you take the window, either!” You argued, yanking him back down on the bed. He huffed, glaring at you in a teasing manner. “C’mon, just take the bed. You need it more than I do.” His glare dropped to his lap, an idea rolling around in his head. “What?” 

   “Y/N, how about we just both take the bed?” He said finally, lifting his eyes back to yours. He wasn’t sure what made him say it, why he didn’t just take the floor like he probably should have, but the words were out there in the world and there wasn’t a way to take them back now. You bit your lip, then shrugged, scooting over. 

   “It is big enough for the two of us.” You turned away from him, turning off your lamp and getting under the covers. You heard Peter slide in next to you, but your back was toward him until he poked you sharply. “What’s wrong, Peter?” 

   “Can you- um, well-” 

   You flipped over on your side, just barely making out his face in the darkness of your room. “Do you want me to cuddle you?” Though you said in a teasing sort of tone, you were silently quite pleased when he mumbled a reluctant yes. You moved closer, one arm going around his waist and the other underneath him. Your head was on his chest, listening to the resilient beating of his heart. He placed his chin atop your head. He focused on the sound of your steady breaths until you were sleeping peacefully beside him. 

    He was so grateful for you- the person who stood by his side throughout anything and everything. You, so strong and beautiful and brave and comforting in his times of distress. You, who never seemed to waver in your loyalty to him. You, the very picture of loveliness and a girl who he’d very much like to- 

   His eyes flew open, and he almost jumped away from you. He didn’t want to risk you awakening, though, so he stayed put, freaking out internally rather than externally the way he was prone to doing. He had been thinking of kissing you. That was what he was going to say. Kiss. The thought had come so simply to his brain it was like he already thought the same thing for years. Maybe he had. It wasn’t like he was blind. You were a stunning girl, even if you didn’t think so yourself, you were his best friend, you were practically perfect and Peter would be an idiot to not adore you the way that he did. 

   Adore, adore, adore. Oh, boy. Peter glanced down at you, sleeping in his arms, and confirmed what he had so stupidly never noticed before. His infinitesimal, brief affection for Liz Allen had absolutely nothing on his all encompassing love for you. 


   Peter bid you goodbye that morning at six thirty sharp, before either of your parents had woken up for work. Before he slipped out your window and into the cracks early morning sunlight, he had pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to your cheek. It was only the briefest touch of his lips to your face, but you had held your face, right in that spot, for practically the entire day. Ned had questioned why, but you brushed him off with an answer of exhaustion. 

   The day after that, Peter returned to school, dragging Ned off to the side as soon as he stepped off the train platform. He had waited for the other boy purposely, seeking advice. 

   “I have a huge, gigantic, terrible awful problem right now, Ned!” He exclaimed as soon as he saw him, throwing his hands up in the air. “I need help.” 

   “Psychiatric help,” Michelle supplied, appearing out of nowhere as she usually did before walking down the path to school. 

   Ned shrugged. “She’s not wrong.” 

   Peter, frantic, seized Ned’s shoulders and shook him. “This is not a roast Peter session! This a cry for help! Help me, Ned Leeds!” 

   “Am I your only hope?” Peter wanted to scream. 

   “This isn’t the time for Star Wars puns, either!” Not waiting for Ned to quip back that every time was Star Wars time, Peter said, loudly, “I’m in love with Y/N and I don’t know what to do!” He ran his hands in his hair, wanting to pull it out. “I just- I just realized the other night! Everything just kind of, like, clicked and I’ve been so stupid. I should’ve realized it before, but of course I didn’t and now I have no idea what to do!” 

   “Wait, dude, you seriously have never noticed this before? Are you kidding me? Peter, you’re supposed to be the genius of the school. I feel let down.” Ned shook his head solemnly. “Dude, everyone knows you love her. Even Flash. That’s why he picks on her all the time. He likes pissing you off and nothing gets under your skin more than someone messing with Y/N. She’s the first one you told about being Spider-Man, you go to her for all your problems, you practically pee yourself racing to be her partner for almost everything- not science because science is our subject, but still. I figured you knew you loved her and just didn’t wanna talk about it because she’s out of your league.” 

   “Hey! I am not-” He stopped. “So what if I am? That’s not even the point. The point is that I love her. Me realizing it was inevitable, even if it took me like eighty years to get there. Doesn’t matter. I’ve gotta tell her, right?”

   “You totally should,” Ned encouraged. “She’s definitely in love with you, too.” 

    Hopefully, Peter grinned. “You really think so?” 

    “Anything’s possible!” 

    “The reassurance you give me is suffocating, Ned. Stop before I die.” 

    That day in gym class, Ned and Peter went off to the side to pretend they were doing stretches while you sat with Michelle and conversed about literature for the first half of the period. Your conversation, however, soon led off into other directions. 

    “Hey, MJ, have you ever… I don’t know, been in love?” 

    Michelle raised her eyebrows. “Only with crushing the patriarchy. Why? Have you?” The intuitive girl already knew your answer, of course, but she was invested in you and Peter’s love story and was desperate to hear the truth from your own lips. 

   You played with the hem of your shirt, thinking. Peter and Ned casually inched closer, having been listening to the conversation for quite sometime now. They were unapologetically nosy. “I think I am.” 

   “With who?” Peter clasped his hands together, silently pleading with the universe to grant him this one wish. I promise, universe, I’ll never ask for anything ever again in my whole life if you just let this girl love me back I swear I’ll be the best Spider-Man there ever was and I’ll protect New York until I’m eighty five just please oh my god please- 

   “With Peter.” 

   The gasp he let out was involuntary, but you didn’t hear him. He turned to Ned, his expression of shock, as well as elation, mirroring Peter’s own. Suddenly, Ned stood, shouting for the entire gym class to hear, “Y/N! Peter loves you too!” You looked up, Michelle’s happy and knowing smirk going unnoticed by you because the only thing you could focus on was Peter and what Ned had just declared. 

   The gym fell silent, every student turning to stare at you and Peter. You were frozen in shock up until the bell rang and everyone filed out quickly, leaving you and Peter alone. 

   “Did he mean it?” You asked, your sneakers squeaking against the floor as you closed the distance between you and Peter, your head tilted to meet his. 

   “It’s the truest thing anyone has ever said.” His lips met yours, and the slant of his mouth against your own was a feeling you could definitely come to adore more than you already did after just one kiss. 

Yes, Sir // A Mitch Rapp Smut

Collab With The One And Only @stilinski-jpeg

Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Violence (like seriously some crazy shit goes down), Oral (69), Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Choking, and Swearing.

Word Count: 9,859 

Song: Young God by Halsey

A/N: Hey guys! Welcome to day 2 of #MitchWeek! Yes, this smut is completely inspired by that bathtub scene from the trailer. I came up with this idea and immediately told Nia about it to which she said and I quote “if you don’t write this, I will.” And so we decided to turn it into a collab! I hope you guys love how intense this is as much as we do. We really felt no need to hold back.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Mitch snarled at Stan Hurley as the pair walked down the long hallway.

“If anyone needs a babysitter, it’s you.” Stan chuckled at his least favourite trainee’s expense.

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