marcus to is the best

3

dedicated to the best space father a pain in the ass could ever ask for / redmpticnarc

HAPPY SLYTHERIN PRIDE DAY

much love to all of my fellow snakes 🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚

Being best friends with Jasper and Monty would include:

  • Being together 24/7
  • Your parents being friends
  • Sleepovers 
  • “Y/N, truth or dare?”
  • Protecting each other from bullies
  • “Hey douchewad, the only person who can bully them is me”
  • Always somehow matching outfits without trying to
  • Getting arrested together
  • You always being the instigator of the mischief
  • “Y/N, what if we get caught?” “stop being such a baby, Jasper.”
  • Friendship cuddles when one of them is sad.
  • Everyone always thinking you guys are in a polygamous relationship
  • “We’re best friends, get over it.”
  • Nicknames™
  • Numerous handshakes
  • Inside jokes to last centuries 
  • Them always finding a way to cheer you up
  • Being in separate Earth Skills classes bc troublemakers™ 
  • Always looking forward to visiting days so you can see them again
  • Being reunited on the dropship 
  • Getting lots of hugs and shedding happy tears
  • “Holy shit i missed you guys so much”
  • Always knowing they’ll be there for you
  • All three of you sharing a tent
  • “Y/N, move over!” “I can’t move over any further, Jasper!”
  • Waking up on top of Jasper
  • Him not minding because he loves you
  • Playing with their hair 
  • Always being the mature one 
  • “Jasper, put the bug down and get to work”
  • Shipping Jonty hardcore bc yes bishhhh
  • But also totally shipping Monty and Harper
  • And deffo shipping Javen thvujbjbilknlkkl
  • Being hellbent on finding Jasper after he was speared
  • Helping Jasper through Maya’s death
  • Helping Monty with anything he needs at that time
  • Fixing Jasper and Monty’s friendship
  • “Thank you, Y/N.”
  • You look out for each other, because that’s what best friends do.
when bellarke reunite in 4x05

clarke: baaaaaaabe

bellamy: baaaaaabe

clarke: omg babe r u ok

bellamy: no babe im sad

bellamy: uh i mean platonic best friend

clarke: baaaaaabe :((((

clarke and bellamy: *eye-sex. angst. eye-sex. eye-sex. eye-sex. eye-sex. eye-sex. eye-sex. eye-sex. eye-sex. eye-sex. eye-sex. eye-sex. eye-sex. eye-sex. eye-sex. eye-sex. eye-sex. *

ice nation and skaikru:

kane: don’t worry guys this happens all the time

Calling it Hope

Summary: Abby misses Marcus after returning from Polis, so she seeks comfort in his room, his trinkets, his clothes. Of course, because she’s back in Arkadia, nothing is ever really private…and she learns some news that changes everything for her and the man she loves. 

(Translated, my Abby/Raven brotp feelings got away from me and I cried three times while writing this and it’ll probably have another chapter).


Everything looked like him, smelled like him, felt like him.

From the trinkets on his bedside table to the paintings on the wall, Abby could practically sense Marcus Kane in the room. She could see him sitting in the chair at his small metal table poring over maps of the surrounding area, laying in bed reading one of the numerous books from his amassed quantity on his bookshelf, gently hanging his guard jacket on the hook on the back of the door.

He was everywhere and nowhere, with her and in Polis.

Some logical part of her knew it was silly, girlish even, to come wandering into his room in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep. What was she, a lovesick teenager? She’d only returned from Polis that morning, could still taste their goodbye kiss on her tongue. His “may we meet again” still echoed in her heart, her head, written into her pulse. A few hours was by no means enough to stir the deepest depths of absence-induced longing in her heart, but it was enough to make her uncomfortable: enough to drive her thoughts back along the path she’d travelled and up into their room in the tower.

What was he doing right now? Had Roan fought and won? Was the alliance still intact? And if it wasn’t, had he, Octavia, and Indra gotten out of the city safely?

Again, logic: there was little merit in giving weight to unfounded questions and doubts. But with Luna’s arrival – and illness – it had been a chaotic day, and Abby had quickly begun tiring of reining in her wayward brain. Her exhaustion pushed her doubts into a downward spiral, and a constant, nagging churning in her stomach hadn’t subsided since she heard the Polis gates close behind her. It had become increasingly difficult to force herself to remain sensible where Marcus Kane was concerned.

Such ruminations would be typical of the kids – of Monty and Harper, maybe, whom she’d just learned were in a relationship – but she was a grown woman, well past having learned how to cope with the absence of the man she loved. She constantly reminded herself that Marcus was fine, that this was by no means the first time they’d been separated, that they’d been parted during far more strenuous times in the past. All things considered, this separation should have given her less cause to worry than the others.

And yet, when she woke from a hellacious City of Light flashback of a nightmare, there was only one person she wanted to see. One man whose arms she wished were around her, one voice she wanted to hear soothing her as she briefly struggled to see through the hazy mirage of dreams. But her bed was empty, the sheets around her cold with his absence, her skin cool without the warmth of him beside her. As she took a seat in one of the cold metal chairs at his table and rested her elbows on the surface – then her head in her hands – she took deep breaths and tried to shove the tears searing at the corners of her eyes into submission.

It may have been late – later than almost anyone else in Arkadia would be awake – but she’d left the door open out of an informal self-reassurance. She couldn’t give into this now: not when they’d only been separated for less than a day. She just needed to be here, she told herself, for a few minutes. To feel him for long enough to calm her racing heartbeat, to absorb the remnants of his smile and laughter that remained in those stationary objects. Being here was like sitting in the sunlight; she felt safe, warm, hopeful.

When she was here, she was with Marcus.

Keep reading

"13 Reasons Why" Teenagers ranked from worst to best:

Bryce Walker
Courtney Crimsen
Marcus Cole
Justin Foley*
Zach Dempsey
Ryan Shaver|Tyler Down
Hannah Baker
Alex Standall
Jessica Davis
Sheri
Clay Jensen**
Tony Padilla
Jeff Atkins***

*Justin did some really shitty things admittedly which is why he’s in the top 5 but I just want to point out that out of all the people who fucked with Hannah he was the only one who’s background story explained why he was a douche. Like Courtney was a bitch for no reason and Alex (who I love dearly and who did try to redeem himself later on) did a shitty thing for such a non-reason.

**This dick weasel took so long to listen the goddamn tapes. In the books he did it over night.

***Jeff deserved so much more and I’m angry about this constantly.

A recap of that conversation between Dad!Kane and his murder child
  • Dad!Kane: JFC, what is it with you Blakes? Last season your brother was a little murder child, this season I gotta deal with you being a murder child...
  • Octavia: Hey, I was just tryna do what I think is best for our people
  • Dad!Kane: Oh, ffs, you know you can't just say that phrase and have it excuse all your bad behavior
  • Octavia: but like...can't i though? because i'm pretty sure it works for everyone else
  • Dad!Kane: well, it doesn't work for this particular plot point. your decisions have consequences, you can't -
  • Octavia: *rolls eyes* whatever dude, you're lame, i'm out
  • Dad!Kane: *with patented Dad Voice™* SIT DOWN YA MURDER CHILD.
  • Octavia: *sits down and does what she's told for the first time ever in her life*
  • Dad!Kane: You, young lady, are grounded. I'm sending you back to Arkadia, where I want you to sit and think about what you've done.
  • Octavia: You can't tell me what to do
  • Dad!Kane: I'm pretty sure I just did *mic drop, dad!kane out*
13 Reasons Spoiler

I was just thinking about how Clay asked Tony if “he was the one who killed Hannah Baker”. And Tony said yes.

Literally no. If any ONE person was responsible for killing Hannah Baker, it’s 10,000% Bryce Walker, who sent out the provocative picture & sexually assaulted her in the store & advocated for Marcus to sexually assault her at the diner & then raped her ex best friend & THEN raped her.

Like if we want to pin Hannah’s death on ONE of the thirteen, at least 5 of those tapes mentioned Bryce.

take this passion, turn it into action

pairing: marcus flint x oliver wood
word count: 1691
a/n: dedicating this one to @lilyevians - I just wanted to bring a little cheer into your world right now because I got the sense that you might need it. I sent that anon ask yesterday and rolled with the flintwood+fake dating trope because I can’t stop/won’t stop. <3 (title from Stop Desire by Tegan and Sara)


“I still don’t know why I’m helping you with this,” Oliver mumbled, straightening out his tie and glancing at Marcus in the mirror reflection above his shoulder.

Marcus groaned and shook his head. “Didn’t think you could get more thick. I told you. Adrian and Terry have been making fun of me for fucking ever for not having a date, and what better way than to fuck with them then showing up at Cassius’s wedding reception with you?”

Oliver sighed, but he agreed. It had all been a coincidence anyways, the two of them running into each other. Or at least, a product of themselves, the fact that they had been signed to competing teams. Now that the war was over and the International Federation was holding events again, it was only a matter of time before they would have run into one another. What was so strange about it was that they had spoken that first event, Marcus had reached out his hand for a truce. And things were still shaky, might always be shaky between the two of them, but over the part couple months Oliver had started to consider Marcus a friend, or at least something approaching a friend.

Which is why when Marcus had bumped into him in Diagon, and gotten a very Slytherin twinkle in his eye, Oliver had agreed to his plan. Without thinking through the fact that now he had to follow through with it, and pretend to be Marcus’s date for an entire evening. Just to fuck with his friends.

Oliver did not want to think about the fact that there might have been a chance he would have said yes if Marcus had asked for a real date. But that was a bridge that he figured they would never come to. From the sounds of it, Marcus was more-or-less straight, which is why everyone would have been so shocked (specifically Adrian, who Marcus was hoping would see that he could be free to date men and finally ask out his long time crush Terence.) Which complicated things, because he was pretty sure Marcus thought he was straight too.

“Here,” Marcus mumbled, and spun Oliver around. “You’re just fucking it up.” Oliver noted, as Marcus untied his bowtie and fixed it up, that even though the other man had large hands and thick fingers, he was surprisingly dexterous. 

Oliver swallowed. “Thanks,” he mumbled, and Marcus flashed him a smile - a real smile - and Oliver tried not to melt. 

It would be so much easier to hate him again.


Marcus was right.

The wedding itself had been a private affair, family members only. Marcus and Oliver then, luckily, only needed to attend the reception. They arrived at the party hand in hand, and as soon as they stepped in the room the entire crowd stopped talking. Jaws dropped and Oliver heard more than one muttered “holy shit is that Oliver Wood?” as they made their way through the crowd, Marcus in the lead. Marcus’s hand was sweaty, just a bit, and Oliver decided it was because he probably didn’t want to be holding onto Oliver at all.

Even though when they reached the table with Marcus’s friends, he didn’t let go.

“Adrian, Terry,” Marcus greeted, finally letting go of Oliver’s hand to pull a chair out for him. “I’m sure you remember Oliver Wood?”

Oliver grinned weakly and reached across the table to shake the offered up hands.

“I thought you were joking!” Terry pressed, in a stage whisper that was barely any quieter than normal speech. “You said you were bringing Wood and I thought you were pulling our legs!” 

Marcus flashed another grin, a devious one and his eyes twinkled in the same way Oliver remembered from their run in. “Would I lie to you?” He asked, as he dropped into his seat.

Adrian laughed. “Literally every day.”


The meal went over smoothly, for the most part. Oliver didn’t say much, but when the table finally switched into conversation about Quidditch he was happy to participate. Adrian was a Ballycastle fan, which Marcus took well, his chest puffing up in pride. Terry, on the other hand, mentioned that he thought Puddlemere actually had a shot this year, and Oliver found himself lost in conversation with the Slytherin.

He was pulled out of it when Marcus took his hand again. “Let’s dance.” Marcus pressed. Oliver frowned - they hadn’t discussed dancing, but he couldn’t very well say no now, could he? 

Nodding once to Terry in a ‘thank you for saving me from everyone here’ gesture, he followed Marcus onto the floor.

As they arrived, the song switched, tempo slowing down, couples moving closer together. Oliver glanced at Marcus but the man looked fine, unfazed by this change of events. Taking a breath to steel himself, Oliver stepped closer to Marcus and placed his free hand on the other mans hip, letting Marcus do the same.

They fell into the rhythm easily, bodies only inches apart. Oliver could feel the heat radiating off of Marcus, could smell tobacco and leather polish and broom oil. Could tell, from this close, that Marcus had freckles on his nose and a scar under his left eyebrow. The proximity was heady and when the song ended Oliver tried to step back, catch some fresh air.

Marcus tightened his grip. “Don’t leave me now, Wood.” He mumbled, and Oliver’s stomach clenched and turned but he nodded. He had agreed to this. He just needed to make it through another few hours and then he could go home and actually start to consider this new information about Marcus, could close his eyes and pretend things were different.

Three songs later, finally, Oliver managed to twist out of Marcus’s grip. “Need the bathroom,” he breathed out, and turned on a heel to leave the hall. It was only once he pushed open the doors, inhaled fresh cool air and leant back into a small alcove that he realized he was in big trouble.

Oliver closed his eyes and rested his head on the brick behind him, but when he inhaled again he realized the air was no longer fresh and clean. Marcus’s unique smell was back nearly full force, and he swallowed hard before opening his eyes. Marcus was standing less than a foot away from him, eyes looking almost worried as he scanned Oliver’s face. He was blocking the only way out of the small space, but Oliver realized he didn’t feel too claustrophobic - in fact, he wanted there to be even less space.

“Alright, Wood?” He asked, his voice gruff in a way Oliver wasn’t used to.

Oliver managed to nod as their eyes connected. “Yeah. Just. Needed fresh air.”

Marcus nodded and stepped closer, pressing a hand into the stone wall that Oliver was leaning against. He was just about to say something, lips three inches away from Oliver’s, his exhale ghosting across Oliver’s face. And then the door opened again and Adrian and Terry stumbled out, and Marcus’s eyes went wide and they both froze in place.

“Look, you didn’t see the look on Wood’s face,” Adrian was saying to Terry. Oliver frowned at Marcus and he pulled a face. “I don’t know what he did but he’s managed to con Wood into coming, they’re not dating. He’s just doing it to fuck with us, which is exactly what I said was going to happen. Merlin he’s such an asshole-”

Terence was much quieter, and Marcus glanced back and then turned back to Oliver. “Sorry,” he said, though he didn’t sound sorry at all, and then he crashed their lips together. Oliver’s small noise of protest was muffled by Marcus’s lips, and when it was clear the other wasn’t pulling back he lifted his hands up, sliding one around to hold the back of Marcus’s neck and lifting the other up to fist in his shirt.

“Terry,” Adrian stage-whispered, and then made a small strangled sound. “Fuck,” he added, and Oliver listened as the footsteps padded away. “Fuck there are totally snogging, I don’t know how he-“ Adrian’s voice faded off and the kiss lingered another minute before Marcus finally pulled back.

“What was that for?” Oliver tried to sound angry, he really did, but he knew there was no malice in his voice anymore. Knew he couldn’t be angry because even when Marcus laughed and said it was a joke and disappeared, he’d be thinking about that kiss.

Marcus shrugged, and suddenly looked uncomfortable in his own skin, shuffling from one foot to the other and ducking his head down. “Dunno.” He admitted, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure the hallway was clear. “Wanted to do that. Figured I wouldn’t get another chance.”

“Are they still out there?” Oliver whispered, low as he could. Why else would Marcus be saying that he wanted to kiss him? (What was he missing?) 

Marcus looked back up, met Oliver’s eyes with his own. “No.” He said, clearly. Sure of himself despite the flush creeping up his neck. “I know we’re not really… that you just agreed to this as a favour, or - actually I have no idea why you agreed to this. But I didn’t think I’d get another chance, so.” 

Oliver swallowed, hard, and then lifted his hands up to cup Marcus’s face. He decided to take a leap, and hope he didn’t fall. “As far as first dates go, I’d give this a four out of ten, I think. You better aim for a seven on the next one.”

Marcus gaped at him, blinked, shook his head. “What?” He tried to clarify, voice still gruff and low and now laced with confusion.

“You wanted to kiss me. I want you to continue kissing me. Sounds to me like that’s grounds for a second date?”

A large grin broke out over Marcus’s face, and suddenly Oliver found himself being crowded back into the wall again, Marcus’s hands on his hips and his body warm against Oliver’s chest. “Who says I need to wait for a second date?”