this is whats on my mind every second of the day

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”

“make the princess speak and you will have the crown of kings.”

my knees hurt, as usual, from scrubbing. technically i’m too high of Maid Station to help out with these things, but i like seeing what happens when you clean. the development of things. how a lot of effort can make something. i like learning and trying and working hard to get towards something.

and i’ve seen them, from the back of pillars, from behind cracked doors, from beside her (on the best days) the way they talk to her. oh beautiful won’t you just look at me. oh darling. if you speak i’ll be your prince. if you speak i’ll be your king. 

the princess, i know, finds the lines of suitors boring. it’s in the way her hands are always moving. she hides yawns, leaves early, we make her apologies. once, a man comes and tries to startle her into screaming. she rolls her eyes and looks directly at me. i have to hide my smile behind my sleeve. he is taken away while still screaming.

by accident, i find her once, crying. when we imagine princesses, they always cry daintily. hers is hoarse, angry, and something in it breaks me. in my station i should apologize and bow and leave. instead i am frozen, watching her shoulders heaving.

she looks up and spots me, her cheeks ruddy. i know i should go but instead i make a big show. i act as one of her princes. i make grand gestures and speak in deep voices. i frantically offer her handkerchiefs and trip over my own two feet. a smile crawls up over her, slowly. i dab my sweat away and offer her the used rag. i feign a fluster, turn a terrible cartwheel, make shadow puppets. the sound of her laugh, raw and rusty, sends shivers through me.

for a while, i do not see her after this. but then i am called to her chambers. she is crying again. i offer silly gifts, pebbles and dusting rags and a candlestick from her own kitchen, pretend to steal it, use it as a hat, rock it as a babe. she laughs more easily this time, gladly, and when she laughs i am taken by more important maids, thereby officially Excused.

it goes like this for months. the winter comes. i rarely see her. i spend my week thinking about ways to please her. i knick interesting cookies, show her shiny buttons, learn to cartwheel in a full skirt, and then promptly how to make it look foolish again. i learn how to juggle hot bread and dance as a man would, i learn how to balance on a ball and how to fall down without hurting myself, how to fake a fight with my own body, which colors she likes and which don’t please her.

i show up on a cold eve with a knotted line of scarves hidden down my sleeve, worried and breathless, wondering why she’s been crying. the door opens and she is sitting there, happy. at first i’m confused, but she waves me in. next to her is her small dessert, in two containers. i’m not sure how to respond, so i fake a fall to hear her laugh, and then sit at her feet. she gives me ice cream - so rare a treat. i know what went into making it - the hours of shaking. it’s smooth and tasty. i don’t feign my reaction, but she laughs anyway, kindly. 

it goes like this. i see her more frequently. she likes giving me new things, watching me discover i hate kiwi and love oranges and would die if it made her laugh breathlessly. i’ve made her keel over with cackling and she’s put a fire in me. sometimes we just sit there, quietly, enjoying each other’s company. 

it’s in her hands, always moving. little things i thought were just her, fidgeting. here’s how she says she’s thirsty, this is what her hands do when she needs a second to think, here’s how she shows she’s happy. this is how i learn to speak back to her. around her i spend much of my time smiling. i feel every visit is a gift. a new part to unravel. i find out she doesn’t respond to spoken things, that she needs to be looking in order to know you were speaking. sometimes she has me talk and she holds her hands to the base of my throat, her eyes wide and wondering. sometimes she just looks at me and i forget that i’m her jester in chief. i get caught up in her eyes, in how expressive they are when she’s happy, in how when she’s sad i feel like i’m drowning.

i never see the king or queen, but i know when she’s had a visit with them, because she never comes back happy. two winters i have known her, two winters and now we dine frequently. i am often called to stand beside her, to whisper translations of her desires into the ears of someone more important than i, someone who gets to be the voice of royalty. i can’t decide if i’m her friend or her plaything, but i don’t know i care much of the distinction. every moment i’m near her is a moment free of friction. i take stock of suitors and curtsy to them in daylight only to mock them in the candle’s eye later.

she asks me one night to stay. it has been a bad day. it’s completely not okay. i cannot say no but i cannot, by my station, stay. but she begs with her eyes and her hands and i know i’ll take the punishment. 

we lie beside each other. i make sure to turn to her when i speak. in the dark she can’t see me, so i move my hands in the way i’m learning. she asks if i am ever lonely. i cannot tell her that i am always lonely without her beside me, so instead i say i think all people are very lonely and just are pretending. she laughs a little at that and says she thinks her parents are the two most lonely people that ever met. her mother was like her; broke a fairy curse and talked, just once, although nobody knows what she said. well, excepting her father, who was the only one around, and who won her hand in marriage.

from her mother she learned the art of hands, of speaking without words - from her father she learned that who she was included a curse. that she just wanted someone who would make her open like a rose - someone who could fix her. how she stared out into the royal garden and wished on flowers to be what her kingdom needs.

she fell asleep pressed against me. i couldn’t breathe. i was still awake in the morning. 

the punishment never came. we spent nights like this. the handmaidens had grown to know me. whenever their princess was stubborn, i worked magic and made her lovely.

it was a terrible thing. i did too good a job, i think. the princess glowed too much or shone too brightly - or at least, i saw it that way, so who knows what the truth is. every day it felt like we were being rushed with princes. 

her father’s temper at hosting failed. it was the day before her twenty-first birthday and first time i’d ever seen him. he stormed in at the end of the session. “just speak!” he said, “it’s not that hard! do for others what your mother did!” 

“tomorrow is your last day of this,” he warned her, “either you pick a prince or i pick for you. i’m done with it.”

he stormed off. she was left shellshocked and trembling. that night she didn’t ask me to come, but i waited outside, just in case she changed her mind. i understood why she needed space. either she’d speak and be married tomorrow or she’d be married shortly. i heard her crying and it took everything in my power not to rush in and hold her, cradle her gently. but i cannot come into a room of a royal person without being invited. i stayed there, tears in my own eyes, thinking of treason.

the next day was a huge festival. what had been a birthday celebration was turned into a day about princes. i watched her shake her head. i tried to cheer her up. i tried everything. i frequently came inches from causing public humiliation, toed the line of mocking and failing to acknowledge my station. she wouldn’t smile. not once. not even for anything.

the day was long. the bonfire wore down. i watched her crumple into herself. i was out of ideas. i knelt at her feet. her eyes barely looked at me. just wait, i said to her with my hands, i’ll be right back. i took off running.

the price of stealing is losing my hands. these things that i spoke to her with. these things that mattered so much to me, that helped with my comedy and cleaning. 

i didn’t think of them. i bloodied my fingers when i ripped the royal roses from their stems. and then i ran, as fast as i could, back to her feet. i picked them to show you, i said, as she gasped, looking at my treason, they’re beautiful and nobody told them to open to reveal their secrets to the bees. they are unbroken. as you are. as you always will be. 

she fell off her throne and for a second i was beyond speaking, worried something had happened, or she’d fainted, or i’d said the wrong thing. but then she was on her knees, her arms around me, and i heard it. i heard the soft croak of her speaking. just one word, and it sent shivers down me. my name, in her voice, awkward and unwieldy, but full of love and passion, burning fire through me.

i felt a hand on my shoulder. i was pulled away from her. they already had me in handcuffs while i struggled to get back to her, to tell her i loved her, to beg her to run off with me or maybe just hold me around her, maybe just have her for a moment, because i couldn’t live without her for a moment longer.

they put me in the cells. i rotted in there, for a while or for no time at all, i’m not sure. the thorns scarred my palms. i watched the scabs build up and flake off. every time someone came down, i flinched, wondering if i would be the next to be taken and chopped into bits.

but one day the light was different. not the smoky torch of the jailer, instead a bright light in a lantern. at first when i saw her, my breath caught in my throat, mistaking her for my princess.

but she was my queen. at first we stood in silence. and slowly, i moved my hands to speak. is she married? is what came out, even though i should be more worried about me myself and me.

she is not. she bit her father on the arm when he tried to make her. then she fought him. and then ran away. it took us a bit to find her, i’m afraid. she threatened her own life and the life of everyone in this place. the queen was smiling. i was told there was a young woman who could make the princess speak, whom she would die to save, who brought roses to her feet. someone in a cell, rotting. are you her?

the memory of her voice rang through me. i’m she.

yes, her hands said, for even now, aren’t you speaking to the silent Queen?

she opened the door. come, she said, let’s get you cleaned up for the ceremony.

the crown of kings. when she wraps her arms around my neck and laughs next to me, i am royalty. when she smiles or makes a joke or asks to see my cartwheel again, i’m lost in her. i kiss her whenever i can, which is often. we have roses in a vase at the base of our bed, and for all of the kingdom, i’d give my hands if it would keep her laughing.

the next time she spoke was just once, at our wedding, where she said the two words i do to bind us for eternity. she had learned from me, from holding her hands over my voicebox, the way i learned from her how to use hands to speak. sometimes at night she says my name, just because she likes what it does to me.

i’m more blessed than a king. every day i spend with her is a day i spend happily. 

Does everyone else here agree that Draco Malfoy is the biggest sap of all time and probably has Mr. Draco Potter written all over his textbooks? And he surrounds them in little love hearts that he has enchanted to animate so they pulse like mini beating hearts. And he thinks nobody knows, because just the thought of him and Potter is utterly ridiculous. Who would think such a thing? But it’s so OBVIOUS. Because we’re talking every second page of EVERY textbook he owns.

And Pansy has to take him aside one day and be like, “You need to calm the fuck down on the hearts or at least cast a disillusionment charm on them before a Gryffindor sees and tells your lover boy.” And Draco, blushing like a motherfucking fire engine, gets so embarrassed that he throws all his books down the toilet (because a vanishing spell just isn’t dramatic enough for Draco My father will hear about this Malfoy). But he forgets his old friend Myrtle lives in the s bend, and isn’t so fond of being hit in the head by heavy textbooks.

So, she gets her revenge by delivering all of Draco Malfoy’s wet textbooks to the very person he never ever wanted to see them: Harry fucking Potter. At first Harry’s a little skeptical of the pile of dripping books left on his bedside table, but being the curious fool he is (and Hermione not being around to remind him the books could easily be cursed), he opens the first one to find Mr. Draco Potter written in elegant, cursive hand surrounded by a tacky (but adorable) beating heart. And the same thing in the next book. And the book after that. And every book there after.

Draco is minding his own business in Potions the next day when none other than Harry Potter sits down next to him. Which is surprising but nothing compared to what he does next. “I think you misplaced this,” he says and hands over a Potions book. Draco looks at it and horror and then up at Harry Potter’s face. Which is smiling. And not in the way that could be construed as teasing. But perhaps a genuine smile. Which is not possible.

But Draco is too embarrassed to look at Potter any more so he diverts his attention to the textbook in front of him. It’s his, alright. And looking pretty worse for wear after its trip down the s bend. His only hope is that perhaps this book isn’t as bad as the rest. Perhaps Potter didn’t even see any love hearts. Perhaps…well, Draco doesn’t really believe it but he’s desperate. He has to remind himself how bad the damage really is, so he opens the first page.

And there, underneath Draco’s neat scrawl, in the most hideous handwriting Draco Malfoy has ever seen, is Mr. Harry Malfoy.

All About Writing Fight Scenes

@galaxies-are-my-ink asked,

“Do you have any advice on writing fight scenes? The type of scene I’m writing is mostly hand to hand combat between two experts. I’m definitely not an expert so when I try to write it, the scene ends up sounding repetitive and dull.”

Fore note: This post is coauthored by myself and one of my amazing critique partners, Barik S. Smith, who both writes fantastic fight scenes and teaches mixed martial arts, various artistic martial arts, and weapons classes.

I (Bryn) will tell you a secret: I trained MMA for seven years, and when I write authentic hand to hand fight scenes, they sound dull too. 

The problem with fight scenes in books is that trying to describe each punch and kick and movement (especially if it’s the only thing you’re describing) creates a fight that feels like it’s in slow motion. 

I write…

Lowering her center of gravity, she held her right hand tight to her face and threw a jab towards his chin. He shifted his weight, ducking under her punch. His hair brushed against her fist, and he stepped forward, launching a shovel hook into her exposed side.

But your brain can only read for fast. In real life that series of events would take an instant, but I needed a full eight seconds to read and comprehend it, which gave it an inherent lethargic feel. 

So, we have two primary problems:

  1. How do we describe this fight in a way the reader can understand and keep track of? 
  2. How do we maintain a fast paced, interesting fight once we’ve broken down the fight far enough for readers to understand it? 

(We will get back to these, I promise.) But for now, let’s look at…

Different types of “fight scenes:”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hello! I hope you're having a wonderful day! I wanted to ask you if you could recommend some super fluffy fics. BTW I really appreciate you! Thank you so much!

SOMETIMES WE ALL JUST NEED SOME FLUFF, so I’m going to try to make this list extra lovely (and long!) ^-^ 💜💜💜

Fluffy Drarry Recs

Talk to Me by Saras_Girl (15.5K)- When the usual channels of communication are shut down, the most surprising people can find a way in. A strange little love story.
Harry is cursed temporarily blind and deaf while alone outside, and is helped by a gentle stranger (*cough* Draco). SO SWEET. Part of her fluffy!verse (collection of one-shots), and anyone after fluff should really read them all <3

Yours Until Midnight by drarryisgreen (4.5K)- Harry sits at a cafe owned by Draco day after day and wonders why Draco likes to bother him. / Lots of rain, lots of tea(s), lots of fluff.
Some fics you just adore for no reason you can articulate, and this is one of those for me. Harry is a (secret) fiction writer under the alias January James, and he writes all his stories in Draco’s cafe, while drinking Draco’s tea and pining without even realizing what he wants. Heart-clenchingly sweet!

Then Comes A Mist and A Weeping Rain by faithwood (21K)- It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that’s ever so cross.
This fic has the most kudos of any Drarry fic on AO3, so everyone and their grandmother has probably read it, but READ IT AGAIN because there is a cloud that follows Draco around raining on the poor boy EXCEPT WHEN HARRY’S BEING NICE TO HIM <333

Luckiest Fucking Size Queen Alive by @l0vegl0wsinthedark(6K)- Potter escorts me home, presses me into my front door and kisses me with a ferocity that’s exhilarating. And then Potter asks me, in a growl that makes my cock throw a wet tantrum in my pants, how many more dates I would deem mandatory before I let him fuck me. I drag Potter to bed.
This fic is fucking hilarious. Quite possibly my favorite humor/fluff/smut combination ever. They both work at the Ministry, and Draco is lured to Potter by the rumors of his amazing cock and they’re so cute and it’s just pure brilliance.

Good to me (And I’d Be So Good to You) by AWickedMemory (9K)- Everyone returns to Hogwarts after the war, but nothing is quite the same. Harry’s groupies are creepier than ever, Ron and Hermione are snogging all over the place, and the once-proud Draco is shuffling around like a kicked puppy. But that’s okay: Harry’s got a plan.
Harry implements Operation Make Friends With Draco Malfoy, and Draco is very confused. Also featuring “Harry’s Draco Lucius Abraxas Malfoy Repository of Information Collected Whilst Stalking (DLAMRoICWS)” hehehe <3

The Wolf Pack by dracogotgame (13.5)- Nobody said achieving your animagus form was easy. Draco could handle being a wolf pup for a while, right? How bad could it be?
Oh my GOD Draco’s animagus form is a wolf PUPPY and he meets another wolf in the forest and bothers him all the time and then he adopts this wolf as his protector. And the wolf is annoyed but reluctantly amused and endeared and I WONDER WHO THAT WOLF IS HM WHO COULD IT BE????

Mingling, Mistletoe & Misdeeds by @jadepresley (10K)- Three couples in denial. One Christmas party to make them finally see sense. Christmas fluff!
This fic is adorable! It also features Ron x Pansy and Hermione x Theo, and I fell in love with those other two pairings in this fic as much as Drarry! Christmassy and LOVELY. And Draco planned the party, so you know it’s a good one ;)

Candy by @bixgirl1 (5.5K)- It was only after careful consideration that Draco came to the wildly preposterous conclusion that he and Potter were actually friends. Sweet fic. May cause cavities.
Harry wants to be friends with Draco, but Draco refuses. And keeps refusing. Until somehow they’re suddenly friends, and then they’re more then friends, and Draco has no idea how any of it happened! Oblivious!Draco is my favorite Draco and yes I think I may have indeed gotten a cavity from how sweet this fic was ;)

To Love a Loathed (Arch) Enemy by Sophie_French (11.5K)- “For the last time, Malfoy, I have absolutely no hidden agenda giving you your wand back.”
Harry brings Draco his wand back after the war and the rest is history.
After Harry returns Draco’s wand, they start sending (FLIRTY OMG) owls back and forth, and then Draco helps Harry with the Hogwarts Restoration and it’s all just adorable :)

Harry Potter and the Incredibly Organized Personal Assistant by megyal (2.5K)- Harry Potter’s new assistant is snarkily organized.
Not gonna lie, I have a huge thing for Draco being Harry’s Personal Assistant and basically just running his life. This short little fic is so lovely and funny!

Get Me From My Good Side by @julietsemophase (5.5K)- The only reason Harry agrees to these Ministry publicity articles is he knows he’s in safe hands with Draco Malfoy as his stylist. But then a shoot doesn’t quite go to plan and Harry worries his secret is out.
Personal stylist is another job I just LOVE for Draco. This fic is perfect perfect perfect because Draco is the only one Harry trusts to style him. And of course that’s not because he’s secretly in love with him, what are you talking about?!

To Bag A Hero by moonshoespotterr (7.5K)- When Draco realises that insults are getting him nowhere, he decides to take a new approach to bagging the Boy Who Lived.
Draco starts being nice to Harry and gives him his scarf and YEP this is pure fluff

Tug-O-Want by dysonrules (16.5K)- Harry is back at Hogwarts minding his own business when he finds himself magically drawn to Draco Malfoy. Over and over again.
Aaaah amazingness! Accidental bonding! Being repeatedly drawn to each other from opposite sides of the castle! Neither of their faults but they blame each other anyway! Giving in to their desires more and more each time! Y E S

One More Cup of Coffee by Lonov (10.5K)- Harry thought the best part about being a Healer would be saving lives every day without the constant fear of being murdered by a megalomaniac, but when Draco Malfoy walked into the room, he realized he hadn’t escaped so easily.
Both are healers, Harry is miffed that Draco has a more senior position than he does, Draco brings Harry coffee every day, and I could choke on the sweetness

Check Me Out by lumosed_quill (3K)- Draco works as a librarian. Harry visits often and attempts (possibly) to flirt with Draco through his choice of books. Draco is not getting it. At all.
YES this fic is exactly as adorable as the summary makes it sound :D

Storm in a Teacup by faithwood (8K)- For reasons he’d rather not think about, Draco is obsessed with Potter’s hair. This cannot end well.
FLUFF FLUFF HARRY’S HAIR IS FLUFFY LIKE THIS FIC. They study together in a hidden alcove <3

Hey, Potter by SunseticMonster (16K)- Harry returns to Hogwarts for his 8th year, determined not to let Malfoy get to him. But when the snarky teasing starts up again, Harry finds that returning the jibes with compliments has a far more interesting outcome.
GAH Harry starts complimenting Draco whenever Draco insults him and Draco gets all flustered and baffled and it’s adorable as FUCK.

9 times Harry kissed Draco, and the 1 time Draco kissed Harry by LockWhoSuper (4.5K)- ‘Harry grinned, Draco fell into his trap perfectly. Surging forwards, Harry wrapped his fingers around Draco’s tie and pulled him forwards until their lips met over their cauldron. The pressure lasted for three seconds, Harry’s eyes shut and Draco’s wide in surprise. When Harry let Draco go, he slid back into his seat slowly, eyes still wide, tie crooked and a blush painting his cheeks.’
Every time Draco swears, Harry kisses him. That’ll make him stop. Yep. Perfect plan. Nothing at all to do with Harry wanting to kiss Draco. Nothing whatsoever.

What Potter Wants by birdsofshore (3.5K)- Harry definitely didn’t want to do that to Malfoy. Not at all. So why did Malfoy keep saying that he did?
This fic is hilarious and perfect and I think about it all the time because the idea is just that brilliant. Draco insists over and over that Potter is dying to suck his cock. Harry denies it and denies it, but….for someone who doesn’t want to suck Malfoy’s cock, he sure is protesting a lot. Fluffy Smutty Humor ;)

All You Want for Christmas is Me by chibaken (7.5K)- Harry Potter is rich enough to buy himself anything he wants, and so famous that he receives daily gifts from his fans. Whatever is a Secret Santa to do? Draco doesn’t know yet, but he’s going to figure it out.
YEAH I’M RECCING MYSELF SUE ME (please don’t). Christmas party games, Draco in denial, presents, and pooooooorn with a ribbon

56th Street - Peter Parker

request -  Hey, could you do a story where the reader (who doesn’t really know Peter but maybe they go to the same school?) finds one of Peter’s backpacks that he left behind and tries to find him to give it back to him? And maybe that happens more than one time and reader tries to solve this backpack mystery? Hope you can work with this messy idea, your blog’s name somehow gave me the idea.

a/n - this idea made me so happy!!!! (for obvious reasons LMAO) i tried to show his more dorky side in this fic and i’m sorry if it failed, but don’t forget to request a peter parker/spider-man fic if you’d like and follow!

I was walking down 53rd street, headphones in and heading home straight from work. I decided to take the short way home through a small alleyway, but was stopped when I almost tripped over something.

What the hell-” I thought to myself, looking down to see a small backpack. It seemed as if it was left here since the sun was going down and everyone was starting to head home for the day. My eyes then caught onto the zipper was broken from the side down.

Parker.” I huffed in my mind, recognizing the faulty zipper. This had marked the third time that I’ve found his backpack within the last month. Peter and I had never spoken to one another outside of Chemistry, and I never understood why he would be rushing out of school so quickly. Every time I found his backpack it would also be in the same place too, which I found odd.

I zipped his backpack up and looked at the tag on one of its straps.

20 Ingram Street.” I typed into my phone, slinging the backpack around my shoulder and following the directions that radiated off of the screen, luckily not being longer than a 10 minute walk.

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Viral

Summary: The Ladyblog catches a private moment and Marinette is furious.

This story can also be found on FF.net and AO3.

The video was uploaded sometime after midnight early Saturday morning.  

As was usually the case after an akuma attack, Alya Cesaire had been running on a caffeine rush and adrenaline high that made sleep impossible.  The dedicated blogger would not see the back of her eyes until her copy was written, her files rendered, and her newest masterpiece was live for the entire world to see.

Or at least the majority of Paris.  She was young yet.

Fortunately for the aspiring journalist, the Ladyblog’s wide and devoted readership ensured that the hits would rack up quickly regardless of the time of posting.

What no one could have anticipated, however, was just how quickly.

It started with the local news.

Nadja Chamack’s bright-eyed good morning Paris grin punctuated the more somber news of floods, akumas, and politics with the light-hearted clip.  The segment usually reserved for heartwarming fluff pieces about eye-seeing dogs and neighborhood bake sales was instead taken over by the city’s most reliable ratings machine.

Ladybug and Chat Noir were television gold.

From there the clip hit the major news networks and was being broadcast to the whole of France. Then came the talk shows, the copycat blogs, the online articles, Buzzfeed, and more.  When the video hit the front page of Reddit there was no stopping the infection.

By the time Monday morning rolled around, less than three days after the akuma attack and the video going live, Chat Noir had become the laughing stock of Paris, the Internet, and the world.

And Marinette Dupain-Cheng was absolutely furious.

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In the Wake of Scandal

(manga spoilers)

At 3:05 am, Izuku did something he hadn’t done in the last four years.

He logged out of his HeroForum account.

It was a forum he’d stumbled upon back in middle school, on the recommendation of a friend-of-a-friend, and he’d lost four straight nights of sleep that first week digging in deeper and farther to what it offered. He dug until he was commenting on All Might Quirk Theory threads that were three-years-dead, until he made a name for himself almost overnight as an overwhelming bastion of hero trivia.

The forum had only grown in the meantime. It blew up at every skirmish. It tracked hero movements moment by moment, pinning locations and encouraging other members in the area to flock if they could. One time, it was shut down for an entire week when a thirteen year old boy stumbled into villain cross-fire while trying to follow the forum’s pin on the hero Momentum.

The HeroForum was Izuku’s everything for keeping tabs on the world he loved. Even after meeting All Might, even after his acceptance to UA, “MightyBoy64”s presence didn’t falter. In fact, Izuku fantasized about the day that he, as a pro hero, revealed himself to be in charge of the MightBoy64 alias. He fantasized about how loyal fans and avid readers would burst to learn one of the forum’s biggest names had gone pro through UA.

Izuku now tucked those fantasies away in the back of his mind. Embarrassed, or ashamed, or maybe just disgusted.

At 3:05 am, MightyBoy64 logged out. And he would not come back.

Instead Izuku put his phone in his pocket. And he rose from the couch in the Class 1-A dorm living room. He navigated to Shouto Todoroki’s room, and he knocked.  At 3:07 am, Shouto answered.

“Can I come in?” Izuku asked. All the room’s lights were on, a soft glow against the tatami mat flooring.

“Yeah,” Shouto answered. He didn’t ask why.

Izuku walked in, aimless at first, before choosing the wall across from Shouto’s desk and sitting cross-legged on the floor, back leaning against it for support. His phone burned in his pocket.

“I was studying for the English test Monday, but I can’t practice dialogue out loud on my own,” Izuku said. He uncrossed his legs and recrossed them more comfortably. “Are you busy? Want to practice with me?”

Shouto sat down again at his desk. He considered it. “Okay.”

Izuku’s fingers twitched, itched, possessed with the subconscious desire to take his phone back out and consume the HeroForum posts like a starved dog digging into fresh meat. He couldn’t help it. It was in his nature.

Especially as the hero scandal of the decade was unfolding.

Whole forums had crashed under the weight of debate. And HeroForum had swelled to near bursting in the last 12 hours as more and more fans flocked to gossip and argue and pry and wring forth every last drop of information they could about the chaos unfolding in the hero world.

Affairs struck the hero world on occasion. Fights between heroes and reporters, displays of public drunkenness, petit theft, public indecency. Silly yarns of gossip that got hero fans through the day were the norm.

This was the first time a hero had been arrested under the accusation of rampant, violent child-abuse.

This was the first time a scandal had struck a hero whose name was known to every breathing person in Japan.

And this was the second time a #1 ranked hero had fallen. All Might only months prior in a battle that obliterated the last of his power.

And Endeavor now, shackled and jailed under allegations of child abuse, felled by an accusation which had been filed by his own up-and-coming hero son, who stated in his only public address that he just hadn’t ever felt heroic enough before to do what needed to be done.

And the name Shouto Todoroki exploded across every forum site imaginable. Izuku had seen it all. Izuku felt sick to his stomach.

Clips of the televised UA Sports Festival were passed around with fervor, every frame inspected for the sake of passing judgement on Endeavor’s son. Every quirk of Shouto’s eyebrow, every shift of his eyes, every tilt of the head—was it the body language of an abused child? Of a liar? Of an attention-seeker?  Of someone looking to destroy his father and take his place in the public eye?

Fiery callous rants tore away at the character of Shouto Todoroki; others dissected Enji Todoroki, and explained how from the very start the man should have been pegged a monster. Threads hit their post limit. Servers crashed. Fan sites of Endeavor came under storm.

“Midnight’s-Man-X” called it petty for Shouto to accuse the father that he no longer lived with. “AllSuperFan100” lauded it as brave. “HeroMight12” wrote a rant, 13,500 words in length, about how the state of the world could not afford to lose another #1 hero so quickly, given how unstable the environment had only just become, how many more lives may be at risk now, and that it was ultimately selfish for Shouto to rob Japan of its #1 hero so soon after All Might’s fall.

MightyBoy64 tried once, just once, to explain why Shouto had done the right thing. Why letting his father cement his role as the #1 hero would be wrong. Why Enji Todoroki deserved to face justice for what he did, in the face of the overwhelming of evidence against him in the form of Enji’s own meticulously-documented “training plan” which he had put Shouto through.

And Izuku had been too horrified by the replies to try to argue any further. Because all of them, whether agreeing or not, did something vicious to Shouto Todoroki. They reduced him to a character, a prop, a toy to be tossed about and chewed over and twisted in favor their own political view. Shouto Todoroki wasn’t real to these people.

And maybe, if Izuku had never come to UA, Shouto Todoroki wouldn’t have been real to him either.

So he’d logged out, and forced the forums from his mind, and sat now on the smooth ridged tatami matting, his fingers trailing along its bumps. Izuku watched Shouto’s face, his scar thin and stretched at the edges, his cheeks round and soft under the lamplight. His bangs were loose and messy, as though Shouto had been running his fingers through his hair too often lately, and his eyes were lined in a bruising purple, as though he were a real person wrung through the stress of being reduced to a prop at the hands of millions of people.

“…Present Mic said we just need to hold a conversation with him using 20 vocab words from this unit. I’ll start,” Izuku said. He pushed himself higher against the wall, and he breathed in deep, thinking about the English sounds he struggled most to pronounce. “Are you alright, Todoroki-kun?”

Shouto looked at him, silent a moment. Then answered in Japanese, “Isn’t this unit on vacation activities?”

“I’m getting there.” Izuku leaned forward, more heart in his words. “How are you feeling, Todoroki-kun? Aren’t you tired?”

Shouto still hesitated, though not as long this time.

“No. I’m not tired. Are you?”

“No, I’m not. I will stay here with you, and practice English, so we will do well on the test. What is your favorite ice cream flavor?”

Shouto looked down at his desk briefly. Izuku caught a glimpse of papers that looked far too official for UA class notes. His eyes flickered to the laptop open next to them, displaying a blank new tab, though the row of tabs along the top suggested an endless cascade of news articles open on Shouto’s laptop.

Shouto eased the laptop shut, pushed his chair away from his desk, and he stood. He moved to Izuku and lowered himself to the floor, leaning against the wall, until the pent up tension in his shoulders eased, and the back of his head touched the wall, and he breathed deep. His whole body became something smaller, and more child-like, and more relaxed. The exhaustion in his eyes became something just a bit less tense.

“I like chocolate ice cream best, Midoriya-kun. How about you?”

Sleepovers and Confessions (Peter Parker x reader)

Originally posted by sexy-stan

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: You come over for a fun night with your best friend Peter. Only to end up spilling all the details on your crush on Peter to Aunt May, and maybe even Peter.

Warning: slight language

Requested: @summersimpkins-blog

Hope you enjoy this!! It was what you requested but I got a little writer happy with this haha, hope you still like it! Send me requests, I’ll write about your fav marvel character, etc.:)

_______________________________________________________________

“Shhh, May! Keep your voice down!” You quickly brought your forefinger up to your pursed lips, eyes wide as you sat down next to Aunt May.

She smiled widely at your sudden confession, excitement poured from her she began to squeal, almost jumping up and down, “Okay, okay! I’m sorry, I’m just- it’s just so exciting!” she belted out, both of her arms outstretched in your direction, signalling a hug. Leaning into her small frame, you squeezed her tightly. Letting go of one another, you smiled widely at her once again in a span of thirty seconds, nervousness and the pace of your heart rate caused the giddiness in your entire body.

You sighed tucking back a piece of hair behind your ear, “I just don’t know what to do. We’re just such good friends, best friends, you know that-” you interjected a different thought into the subject, looking to face her. She rapidly shook her head in an understanding manner, stopping to let you finish.

“It’s just, we’ve been friends for close to eight years. I just don’t want to ruin anything. And don’t even get me started on the whole Liz situation. That’s why I’ve been so distant from him these past few weeks,” you heavily exhaled, defeat instantly creeping up on you as the name Liz rolled off your tongue. It just put a bad taste in your mouth.

May smiled weakly at you, with a slight spark in her eyes, which you couldn’t help but find curious, “Y/N, don’t worry about Liz right now! You’ve known me and Peter basically your entire life. Trust me, I think once you tell him, he’ll feel-”

“How will who feel?”

Your mouth instantly intakes a sharp breath at the sweet sound of Peter’s voice, interrupting your entire conversation about… well, him. May’s eyes widen at the new position of her nephew, from the bathroom to the living room, which was quite inconvenient at this moment in time.

“Oh!” May interjects. You can instinctively realize she’s analyzing a plan in her mind, “Me and Y/N were just talking about… how my boss will feel if I’m late again for the night shift!” she says with a tense voice. You looked at her with thankful eyes, blessing her for saving your ass in yet another tight situation with Peter.

Peter looked skeptical at her sudden tactic. His bright brown eyes narrowed in both of you directions, eyebrows playfully scrunching, “Ohh-kay?” he questioned slightly. You looked over at him, a weak, but hopefully believable smile painted across your lips as May got up to leave for her ‘night shift’.  She said her goodbyes to both of you, winking at you before exiting the apartment.

Peter watched her leave, waving to her sweetly before turning towards you, his pink lips curled into a bright smile, eyebrows raised, “You ready to watch Return of the Jedi?”

You smiled at his excitement, the butterflies beginning to erupt in the pit of your stomach at his smile, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

__

Halfway through the movie, you began to notice you couldn’t keep your eyes on the film. Your Y/E/C eyes slowly began to daze over to Peter sitting next to you. His soft, lightly curled brown hair was left loose today, going perfectly with his blue sweater and matching new balances. Your gaze flew up to his narrowed, sparkling brown eyes paired with furrowed eyebrows, focused intently on the movie.

God, those eyes make you go insane. And those thin pink lips you yearned to forever be placed on yours. Why couldn’t you just admit to him how you’ve felt for him all these years. Why couldn’t you just say, “Peter, I-”

“Y/N?”

The soft voice snapped you out of your deep thoughts, “Yeah?” you questioned, breath heavy as your head whipped in the direction towards him.

His eyes scanned your face completely, wondering if you were okay, due to the fact you had been in outer space, dreaming of him for a very long time, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine Peter. I’m just tired-”

“Cut the crap Y/N.”

Your heart instantly picked up at the new and unfamiliar sound of his voice. Your eyebrows scrunched together, your eyes wide yet peeled in his direction, curiosity running through your veins. He never sounded like that. He sounded almost, hurt? Guilty? You couldn’t quite detect it, “What are you talking about?”

He scooted closer to you, putting one arms behind the back of the couch and one by his side, mere inches from yours. You snapped your head down to your close proximity. Sure, you’ve sat much closer than this before, but right now, it felt strange. Almost as if you were unsure of what to say to him.

“The past couple of weeks you’ve been acting weird. Last week, I was walking with Liz to Calculus and I saw you, but you sprinted off! At lunch two days ago, you and Ned were sitting at the lunch spot and once you saw Liz and I make our way over, you muttered something to Ned before you got up and ran off! Oh, and yesterday Liz walked with me to-”

“That’s the problem, Peter! Don’t you see the recurring issue in every one of your stories!” you cut him off, hopping off the couch in a rush, standing right in front of Peter. Your mind instantly seem to forget how to choose the correct words to say to Peter in this type of situation. It was as if you didn’t know how to hide your feelings anymore. Your mind clouded, not anywhere near stopping.

Your hand flung out by your side, signaling to the outside world before belting out another stupid confession, someone careless seeming to take over, “You were with Liz! You were with her and not me!”

Peter slouched slightly, his eyes beginning to widen at every growing word that rolled off your lips, mouth barely ajar as he seemed to be aware of where this situation was going.

You continued, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes as your stomach did somersaults, and your heart ready to explode, “Don’t you see! You pine after girls like Liz for fucks sake! That’s why I’ve been so distant lately! Me knowing and witnessing  you falling in love with someone like her made me realize I would never have a chance with you, Peter,” your throat closing up at the sudden confession, you eyes widening as he stared intently into your eyes, slowly rising from the couch, stepping right in front of you. His couple steps felt like miles as he made his way towards your downcast figure. Once he approached you, you could lightly feel his breath hitting your nose.

This was it. He was about to tell you the truth, and it wasn’t going to be good. Who would’ve thought a simple sleepover would’ve turned into this?

You could feel the atmosphere in the room quiet and thicken, your eyes still staring deeply into Peter’s. Your eyes glossed over with guilt and disappointment. While his portrayed sneakiness and adventure. It felt like years for either of you to have the courage to speak up and say anything involving the matter. You took matters into your own hands.

“You know what, I took this way too far. I-I’m sorry, I’ll just leave and we can forget all about-” except you were cut off by Peter’s calloused palms quickly yet gently grab your face and bring your lips up to his softly. Your eyes widened in surprise, but you couldn’t of cared less. Your mind once again clouded with nothing but thoughts of Peter. You kissed back, gently pressing your lips back against his, hands wrapping around his neck, to rest in that soft brown hair you yearned to tug on for years.

He pulled away, his lips lingering on yours for a few seconds before slowly opening his eyes to meet yours in a loved daze, “Liz means nothing. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your eyes lifted with happiness at his words, heart prepared to explode with happiness and love, pulling him against your slightly shorter frame. His arms instantly wrapped themselves around your waist, causing an ignited feeling you’ve never felt before.

“I knew May was lying,” he said slyly, hugging you tighter as his words echoed in your ear.

You smiled to yourself, rolling your eyes at his cockiness, snuggling into his warm embrace, “Of course.”

Different Ways to Say “I love you”

Peter and you had been seeing each other for quite some time – longer than he had imagined you staying with him, anyway. Five months of his life had been dedicated to you, romantically. Peter would never tell you, but he had dedicated his life to you since your first day at Midtown High. You had met Ned in one of your classes and he had convinced you to join the decathlon on your first day. Peter had owed him ever since that day.

It was hard for Peter to ask you out – hell, it had taken him a year to even tell you that you were pretty. So, it didn’t come to a surprise to him when he found himself too terrified to tell you how deeply he felt for you. He loved you – he loved the way you were smarter than him (you knew that, but you never made him feel insignificant), he loved that when you wanted to hold his hand you’d walk next to him and let your hands brush first (you’d start tapping his fingers with yours until eventually your hand engulfed his completely), he loved how when you found out he was Spider-Man you weren’t mad that he kept it from you (“I get why you couldn’t tell me – you have to promise me you’re going to come back… you have to come back to me.” “You’re the only reason I’ll always come back… a-and Aunt May, obviously.”). He loved you – he knew he did. He had tried to tell you so many times. But, what he didn’t know was that he had already told you he loved you – in so many different ways.


“You got me this?” Peter nodded at you. “You were in Berlin – fighting alongside the Avenger’s… and you found time to get me something?” Peter couldn’t fight the blush on his face even if he tried.

“I-It’s not a big deal. I saw it in the window. I don’t know, I just – it reminded me of you.” You smiled, leaning in to peck him.

“I love it.”


“Ugh, Pete,” you whined, your eyes welling up with tears. “It’s broken.” You held up the charm bracelet that Peter had given you for your birthday. “I’m so sorry,” a couple of tears had fallen and Peter was quick to reach up and brush them away.

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, “it’s just a bracelet, it’s okay.” You shook your head.

“I loved this gift – it’s my favorite bracelet.” Peter’s heart beat a little faster.

Come here,” he whispered, “come on. Let me fix it.” And he was relieved to see the smile on your face as you made your way to him.


“I’m glad you came tonight, Peter.” You nudged him as you walked out of Liz’s house together, side-by-side.

“I am, too.” He smiled softly at you, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets as you both fell into a comfortable silence. It was a cool night in New York and as Peter saw you wrap your arms around yourself he registered you had forgotten to bring a jacket. He automatically pulled his sweater over his head, straightening out his shirt. “Here,” he handed you his sweater. You shook your head.

“Peter, no. It’s fine, I’m fine.” He gave you a pointed look.

Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.” You reluctantly took the jacket and pulled it over yourself, feeling his scent overwhelm you and a smile ghosting on your face.

“Thank you, Peter.” You linked your arms together and pushed yourself up to kiss his cheek. Smiling when he turned red and mumbled a small ‘anytime’.


“I’m sorry that I’m ruining our date night, Peter.” Peter shook his head until he remembered you couldn’t see him over the phone.

“You’re not ruining anything, babe,” he said, packing up his backpack with the necessities May told him he’d need. “You need to focus on that sore throat.” There was silence. “Babe?”

“Huh?” He chuckled, walking out of his front door. “I’m sorry, Petey. I dozed off.”

“It’s fine, I’ll see you later. Okay?” You mumbled an incoherent response before Peter decided to end the call. He found himself outside of your home fifteen minutes later. He knocked and your mom let him in, letting him quietly use your kitchen to warm up the tea he had brought for you. He then quietly walked to your room, opening your door to see you sleeping. He almost didn’t wake you up, but knew your tea would be cold. “(Y/N)? Babe?” You stirred awake, feeling alert and sitting up when you saw Peter on your bed.

“Peter! What are you doing here? You’re going to get sick!” He shushed your hoarse voice, picking up the cup and handing it to you.

“Here,” you grabbed the cup, looking at its contents, “drink this. You’ll feel better.” You looked at his dough eyes and opened your mouth to say something, until deciding to just keep quiet and drink the tea, a soft smile on your face.


“Oh, my god.” Peter turned around from his seat at his desk, seeing your distraught expression as your eyes grazed over the test you both had received from Calculus.

“What’s wrong?” You bit your lip to stop it from quivering.

“I failed,” you whispered. You had studied with Michelle and Betty for two weeks straight. You had thought you were doing so well – even Michelle had thought so. How could you have failed?

“Hey,” you looked up at Peter, “it’s just one test. You’ll get ‘em next time.” You smiled at the use of his words – it was a phrase you’d use on him whenever he didn’t pass a quiz or test he didn’t study for due to his after-school activities.

“I guess,” you sighed, your smile fading. Peter stood up, walking over to his dresser. He opened the top drawer and shuffled through it, picking up a CD case. He sighed, counting to three before turning around to sit next to you on the bed.

“Here,” you took the CD from his hands.

PETER’S HAPPY MIX

You looked up at him, seeing him shrug. “You might like this,” he stated. “It makes me feel better when I feel like crap.” You reached over and hugged him, mumbling about a million thank you’s.


Now here Peter sits, next to you on his couch, watching a movie of your choice. It was one that you had seen at least a hundred times, but he didn’t mind. If you loved it, so did he. And, god, did you love it. He watched your profile, seeing your lips move as you recited the character’s lines – every character’s lines. Your hands were moving in tune with them, too. And as he looked at you he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t plan it coming out like this, but it just happened. He just – “I love you.” Your hands stopped and so did your lips. You turned to look at him quickly.

“What?” Peter nodded slowly, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie.

“I love you.” He repeated. “I love you, and I have for awhile. I don’t know when liking you stopped and loving you started – it all kind of just blends together but – yeah. I love you.” You blinked a few times, registering how your shy and reserved boyfriend, Peter Parker, got the nerve to tell you he loved you before you did. You shook your head at the thought. Peter Parker was braver than you – who knew?

“I love you, Peter.” You finally said, the look on his face telling you your silence was scaring him.

“You do?” He asked, too ecstatic, but he didn’t care. You nodded, setting the bowl of popcorn that was on your lap on top of the coffee table. You sat up and crawled closer to him, leaning over him slightly.

“I love you so much, Peter Parker.” You leaned all the way down, pressing your lips against Peter and feeling Peter wait not even a second before matching your pace.

“I love you, too,” he mumbled against your lips, but not stopping your kiss.

Even though Peter Parker had told you he loved you more than once, he felt a weight lift off of his chest after hearing it come out clear as day from the both of you.

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The universe never really sent me a warning. When love first arrived, I didn’t pay attention to him the moment he walked right up to me. I didn’t even spare him a second glance. Love wasn’t what I wanted love to be, was far from what I wanted him to be. Love was from a different world and our paths crossing was never part of our plan. But love had already set his heart on me and was persistent. Love showed effort that I never asked him for—love waited for me because love knew I would always walk home. So love walked beside me every single day on my way home and held my hand. Love would even sometimes stay for a little while once we reach the house, love gave me a forehead kiss while my head laid on his shoulder riding the bus but left it at that because love knew that if his lips touched somewhere else, it would be another story. Love made sure I always made it home safe, love inspired me. Love made me do things I never imagined I’d ever do in my life. Love held the ice in the warmth of his hand and it melted. Just like that. But love always fought with me. Love glared daggers at the friend who was only asking for help in courting someone else that he admired. Love stopped talking, stopped seeing me. And love grew tired. Love gave up. But love told me he still wanted to be friends. And with a final wave of hand and a smile, love walked away.

And once he was no longer in sight, I was sure I wanted nothing to do with that. I swore I wouldn’t let love set foot in my house again for a while once it came knocking at my door on a winter night. But love reappeared not long after, just when I wasn’t expecting love to.

Love looked different now. No more tan skin and deep, chocolate eyes. Love smelled different now, spoke differently now. With a sweeter voice, gentler hands, a broader back, and a different kind of warmth. Now love’s eyes, a lighter shade of brown—so mesmerizing. But love wasn’t all new after all. Because love already met me years before, he just didn’t remember. Love didn’t remember my name, but recognized my face. Love wanted to know my name. For the second time. Love roamed the hallways, sneaking a glimpse room after room searching for that one familiar face.

Now love would stay up late at night with me when my mind won’t stop counting reasons to hate myself, keeping me wide awake. But would usually make sure we both got enough rest. Love cared differently now, gave just the kind of love I have always longed for probably without him knowing it. Love became everything I have ever hoped for and so much more. Love’s arms alone felt like home and love offered more kisses now. Love felt safer now. Love made sure he always took care of himself, because he knew I couldn’t afford to lose him, so did I. Love never forgot to remind me knowing I need reassurance every 3 seconds of everyday. Love became the miracle I’ve always asked for from the heavens above. Love became my main source of happiness. Love, every time he got the chance, would hold me in his arms singing me songs all the while running his fingers through my hair and on my skin. Love would wait ‘til I finally got a ride home. Love would always think I’m beautiful—with my hair a mess, cheeks stained with tears, and with a crestfallen face. Love would always say I’m beautiful. But love would also cry, get angry, and would sometimes be cold and distant. Love would also make mistakes and would sometimes forget. Love wasn’t as simple now. Love wasn’t perfect, but neither was I. Love hasn’t been there that long, not all my life, but has been making up for all the years he wasn’t. And that’s all that mattered. Because love promised that love would be here to stay until the very last breath he’d take.

—  irrxlevxnt 
8 reasons why you should watch Sense8

[READ ON MEDIUM FOR A BETTER LAYOUT AND VIDEOS]

Most people probably know by now that Sense8 fans just pulled off the impossible and brought the ridiculously expensive and technical/organizational nightmare that is this show back from the death for a 2 hour special.

We believe we can get more than that, so does Lana Wachowski, creator of the show, who wrote: ‘It’s my great pleasure (…) to announce that there will be another two hour special released next year. After that… if this experience has thought me anything, you NEVER know

Netflix says it needs a bigger audience to be profitable, I’m here to fix that problem, here’s why you need to watch Sense8:

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“Kissing Booth”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (College AU)

Summary: After Nat volunteers your services at the kissing booth, you find yourself sitting across from you is none other than your best friend.

a/n: i swear this is my last unedited 7-minute one-shot. but today i was reminded of a personal experience and quickly jotted it down in story format. 

You feel sick to your stomach as you clutch your water bottle to chest. Alarms ring in your head as you take in the long line snaking around the booth. “I hate you.”

Natasha smirks and gently pats your shoulder. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes,” she coos, her tone so saccharine that it almost betrayed the sharp sarcasm underneath.

Grimacing at the redhead, you chug down the remaining contents of your water bottle. “Who’s brilliant idea was it to have a kissing booth? And I’m not even a part of this sorority! Why am I here?!”

“Because you owe me. I’m not a fan of the kissing booth, but we might as well commit since we’re here. And we’re bringing in some major cash for charity, so look pretty and keep going!”

You grumble under your breath and slump back onto your stool. If past-you hadn’t asked Natasha to look over and edit three major papers on Russian literature for you, you could be eating cotton candy or riding the ferris wheel. But no, here you are working off the last few minutes of your shift at the dreaded kissing booth.

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Gummy Worm Giveaway (Peter Parker x reader)

Originally posted by guyattime

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Spider-Man swings in to save Y/N from a late night mugger. But, instead of gushing over her new hero, she easily realizes who’s behind the mask.

Requested: yes (anon)

Warning: language

Here’s number five! I’m hoping to put out my first prompt list request later tonight! Thx for sending this in! MASTERLIST BELOW!

MASTERLIST   <———–

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All you wanted to do on this late Tuesday night was go down to the twenty-four hour shop and buy some gummy worms. Your hunger had been eating you up by the minute as you paced across your floor, debating your thoughts. You finally gave in to your grumbling stomach and hopped off your bed and out the door. Did your parents know you were out this late? No, because they were out this late at a work function, trusting you to be a good child and stay at home. But, did you listen? Of course not. Because your mind tended to flip from topic to topic, your sneaky thoughts always giving in.

So, you made the seven minute walk to the store. Seven minutes, that’s it. You would walk your hungry ass down happily all the way to the store, using your phone’s flashlight occasionally when approaching darkened areas on the streets, and walk in and buy your beloved gummy worms.

But now, you were certainly regretting that action. Once you turned the corner to continue your trek to your venture of a full stomach, you felt a presence take place quietly behind you. You didn’t dare turn around, an uneasy feeling filled your residence as you heard each footstep creep daringly behind you. Your pace quickened slightly as if on instinct, but you still stared dead on forward, continuing your now hopefully brisk walk to the store without company.

The deep breaths of the person slowed down, creeping closer and closer to your ear. Your blood began to run cold, fear hitting you suddenly like a truck as you thought to yourself, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, what do I do? Do I approach the seemingly creepy stranger, or do I pick my pace up as fast as I can and run my ass all the way there?”

Before your conscience decided what your heavily debated decision would be, you felt two hefty arms wrap themselves around your frame, yanking you off the ground.  Fear filled your eyes quickly, your heart beating at a rapid rate as you realized the situation you were in.

Your arms were being held tightly against your body, movement being stagnant at this point. Your legs flailed from your body as you felt a sweaty, dirty hand clamp itself over your mouth to hide your yet to be heard screams.

“Shh, shh. Stay quiet and give me all the fucking money you have or this won’t end well at all,” the stranger’s voice muttered in close proximity to your right ear, his breath hitting the side of your face as if a snake slithered along your jaw bone. You attempted to kick your legs back and forth, trying to wriggle out of his tight and horrid grasp on you, failing completely.

Running wasn’t option because you couldn’t. Yelling, screaming bloody murder for help wasn’t an option because you couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything. This psycho mugger was going to do god knows what to you and you had no fucking idea what to do.

In a split second, the mugger reached behind him, almost as if he was pulling out something to hold you down with while he stole every penny you had. Your eyes weren’t even filled with fear anymore, they were dazed with every frightful emotion you could possibly think of in the book.

But, before he could complete the task of pulling out some kind of weapon to scare you with, his grasp around you loosened completely as his body suddenly flew back, slamming into a pole. You immediately responded to the relieved feeling throughout your body, heaving a huge breath of air.

“Hey, buddy! Better think twice before attempting to mug someone in the middle of the night again!”

Your head snapped behind you, eyes widening to the size of saucers as the man who a just a few seconds ago had you in a death hold, was now trapped against the street-light, a spider-like web holding him in place.As he struggled to get out of his now death hold, your head moved in the the direction of a new presence taking place near you. Your eyes land on a red and blue suit standing on the building above you, mouth opening wide open at the person standing, well above you.

Spider-Man. He saved you.

Your stomach did a flip as the superhero stood clear as day, right in front of you. His black and white eyes looked down at your form, standing underneath the dim street-light and he smiled in his mask at your presence. He leaped down from the building, landing on the sidewalk in front of you. Your stature stood entirely still as he walked closer to you, shock filling your insides.

His lanky body walked towards you, his mask moving slightly as he asked you, “Are you okay?”

His concerned voice hit your heart and you melted, hating that someone could affect you like that. You just nodded your head slightly as you moved closer to the hero.

“Need a lift?”

__

“Thank you so much for saving me,” you spoke to him as soon as you gained composure after everything that’s happened. But, nervousness still rubbed your voice as you stood before him, outside your room on the fire escape.

He leaned against your bedroom window, folding his arms across his chest, “You’re welcome.”

Your face tinged pink at his casual yet sultry attitude towards the matter. You breathed a huge sigh before sitting on the small bench, your mind still running with thoughts of tonight’s previous events. Your head popped up at the sound of him moving from leaning against your window to walking towards you, “Can I just ask why you were out this late on a Tuesday night?” his voice scratchy and suspicious as his head tilted to the side almost trying to be amusing.

A slight smile spread across your face at his actions, chucking a little before responding, trying your best not to sound like a complete dumb ass, “I was hungry. Like, really hungry,” you emphasized the word really before continuing. p>

“I just wanted some gummy worms from that twenty-four hour store seven blocks away. Which obviously wasn’t the best idea.”

You finished, realizing that your attempt to not sound stupid completely failed you as Spider-Man leaned his head back, emitting a deep chuckle at your story.

“Obviously,” he muttered slyly, resting his hands on his hips.

Holy fuck.

“Hey Peter, you know that using the ‘Stark Internship’ card can’t get you away from everything, right?” you questioned your once again late lab partner in the middle of sixth period.

He sighed, rolling his eyes and sitting down next to you, “Obviously.”

You knew you’d heard that unrecognizable voice from somewhere. The scratchy yet slightly high voice rang in your ears so evidently it was almost as if someone had blown a bull horn in your ear.

Your eyes enlarged as the realization slapped you in the face. You didn’t think twice before shooting straight up from your spot, hands by your sides before yelling in exasperation, “PETER?”

“What?” he questioned, darting your way at the sudden sound of his name, not realizing he’d been caught. Once he saw your mouth agape like a fish, his eyes widened behind his mask, defeat taking over.

Your finger immediately shot up, pointing at him as you got closer to him. He saw your actions and backed away quickly, you two moving in circles for minutes before you shouted, “Oh my god it is you!”

He ripped his mask off and ran closer to you, both hands set on your shoulders as he began to shake your entire frame from shock, “Y/N you have to promise me won’t say anything to anyone!”

His wispy brown hair fell in front of his forehead, bright brown eyes staring directly into your Y/E/C ones. The fear and guilt radiated off his body you could sense it against you, your cheeks tinting pink at his sudden vulnerable state.

“I promise, Peter. I won’t,” you swore, truth flooded his ears and he began to felt somewhat ease with the you wide eyes standing in front of him.

He let you go and walked to stand next to you, arms leaning against the railing, a sigh emitting from his figure. You followed his actions your body becoming tired from all of tonight’s happenings.

Wait, why did this make him even cuter than before?

You laughed to yourself your weariness getting the best of you, causing you to think exceedingly truthful all of the sudden. You leaned over and saw his exhausted expression, knowing he never meant to let his secret let go so easily.

You nudged him with your shoulder, turning towards him, “If it makes you feel any better, having Peter Parker save me from a mugger was at the top of my bucket list.”

He looked in your direction, a smile spreading his pink lips, eyes smiling with it as he realized that as of right now, Peter was greater than Spider-Man.

And you knew it too.

Through the Years (Part 6)

Summary: Through mysterious circumstances, you find yourself exchanging letters with a man who lived 70 years in the past.

Word Count: 842

“Through the Years” Masterlist

A/N: Here’s my inbox. :) Let’s all feel together. This part is short because I want to get something out and I don’t have more time to write. But it has A LOT.

Originally posted by rickdixonandthefandomlifeposts


Steve’s every step was painful as he made his way up the stairs and towards the apartment he had once called his own. He shared so many memories with Bucky in this very same building and he swore that if he remained quiet enough in the hallways, he could still hear his best friend’s laughter.

Even though seventy years had passed since Steve wasn’t fast enough to catch Bucky, it felt like weeks for Steve. He had been asleep most of that time and he could still feel the emptiness of the large hole Bucky had left behind in his chest.

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The first time I tried to come out to someone I was ten years old and in primary school.
I told a person who was supposed to be one of my best friends. She listened.
The next day when I came to school she had told the twins; my other friends and they all laughed at me and avoided me for days on end. I knew there was something wrong with me then, see!?? So I told them I was just joking and of course I didn’t like girls that way, I’M NOT GAY!
The next time I tried, I told my cousin, my other best friend. She didn’t say a lot about it and just kind of changed the subject. The next time I saw her she asked me if I was being serious with a screwed up look on her face that hit me in the gut like disgust. I felt so sick, am I sick?! There is something so wrong with me. I told her no, of course I wasn’t, I’M NOT GAY, NO REALLY, DEFINITELY!
I started high school desperately trying to be cool, to be normal, to just fit in, why couldn’t I be like all of them? Every now and then someone in the halls would call me a fucking lesbian. It took me right back to those laughs that I heard when I was ten. I was still friends with the same girls who’s laugher haunted me and one night I slept over at their house. They had a brother who was a couple of years older and I thought I might have had a crush on him. It was juvenile wishful thinking. I ended up in his room with the door closed, in the darkness putting his dick in my mouth. After that I asked if I could go home because I was homesick - but I was just sick, I didn’t like anything about him or his dick. I felt so empty and so alone knowing that I was not normal, I was not like any of them. I sat in the bathtub with the door locked at 1am brushing my teeth and trying to erase the stain of what happened.
I came to school on Monday, and people were looking at me. They were talking behind hands and snickering. Someone had told someone and then someone told everyone and they all knew. My mind flew out the second story window in math as a girl passed me a note telling me I was gross and a fucking slut. If anything I thought it would shut them all up? Isn’t that what normal girls do, they like boys and they don’t leave their balls blue?! I had no idea what in the fuck I was supposed to do.
I drifted away from them all, I’d still see them in the halls but we hardly ever talked anymore. I found out that there were certain boys that stayed seperate from the jocks, and their flocks, so I started hanging out with them. They didn’t really care about much of anything and for once I felt a tiny bit of what I thought was belonging. Of course I engaged in ridiculous dating charades where I was one of their girlfriends. We’d occasionally kiss and hold hands and that was it, and I thought it might finally look like I fit. But I still heard it, from time to time “HEY DYKE, ARE YOU A LEMON OR A LIME?” I’d just put my head down and hide. I’d hide behind my boyfriend who was sweet and kind and dopey and gentle, even though most days he kind of drove me mental.
One day there was a new guy at school, I saw him before roll call in the hall and thought he looked cool. Later that day in science, he was sitting opposite me, and I smiled, he smiled back. We’re still friends and it’s about fourteen years down the track - how did we get to that? Well…
The next time I came out it was to him, and he told me he was the same as me. Of course I chose to come out under the label of bisexuality, because I still thought guys were kind of cute and it provided me with a shield of a certain safety and half normality. He didn’t flinch or cringe or look at me with hate, he just said he was the same, and my shame started to deflate a little. I started to breathe full breaths for the first time in so long, and I started to believe maybe I wasn’t so fucking wrong.
The next time I tried to come out to somebody I was sixteen and it was my mother. I’d spent years in torture and isolation trying to figure myself out, who I really was, what it was all about. I told her I was bi and she was quiet for a while. After I prompted her for a response she said “but how do you know?” with a condescending smile. She told me I was young, and that I hadn’t even slept with anyone so how could I possibly know what I am?? Rage is the only thing I could feel at that stage, HOW COULD I KNOW WHAT I AM? The same way you knew you weren’t what I am, that’s how. I’ve spent years hating myself for being this way, and this is the stupidity I’m faced with now? Like I had just flippantly decided that I would announce something I wasn’t even sure of? I was floored, and thus thereafter the topic was purposefully ignored. The silence said all I needed to know, this was something I just wasn’t supposed to show, it’s just one of those things that was a no go. Certain people could be trusted with my secret, the thing that people didn’t seem to want to see, but I had to be very careful about who that would be.
So I shut it down and compartmentalised my difference and tried to survive. Three years went by before I opened that door again, to a trusted friend. I never intended to tell her, but she asked me in a way that seemed so tender, there were no teeth waiting to bite me, and even though it frightened me I told her. She didn’t even care, she was just curious, maybe she was questioning things in herself like some of us do. That was the first time I really knew that I wasn’t my shame and I wasn’t my pain and I wasn’t some thing to be hidden away. I decided then to be more open. To live authentically and do what felt right for me. But I still remained private about it unless asked explicitly - then I would answer as honestly as I knew how, because truthfully I’m still figuring all of it out. I’ve learned so much about diversity and gender and sexual identity and sometimes I find the right words that seem to fit, and other times the pressure of a label exhausts me and I get sick of it.
Sick of trying to classify myself under certain banners, sick of people asking things without any thought of manners.
I know on the grand spectrum of things I am not at all like them, I fall somewhere else along the Kinsey scale. Maybe that means in a way I fail the people like me, because I can’t cement things or write it in concrete and sign it to make it complete. Or that sometimes I still find myself in certain situations where I’m being discreet, holding my candour for fear of ramifications and slander. Maybe I’m not full of pride, maybe because for so long all I could do was hide. This makes me feel so guilty, I should be proud of who I am unapologetically! Not just for me but for the sake of visibility, so that maybe more people can see - we aren’t wrong, we don’t have any agenda other than to be able to be! Just to be; to live with an open vulnerability and tranquility and to be able to do it safely!! I’m sorry, that I could not join in on the pride but maybe you’ll know why; it’s hard to celebrate something that for most of your life you’ve had to justify to people, to justify to yourself, for most of your life you’ve carefully withheld.
— 

“Internalised Homophobia - Where Is My Pride?”

Pride month is such a wonderful thing and I know it is over now but it inspired me to share this. It’s intensely personal, not very well written and lengthy, but I wanted to be able to share some of my experiences regarding this topic. In no way do I speak for the whole LGBT+ community in this post and it’s simply a personal journey that I wrote out for catharsis. 

Little Things

MASTERLIST

A/N: This is my very bad attempt at something cute, but you know… Fluff isn’t my best. Also a bit different from what I’ve done in the past, so feedback would be great. I messed up the months, I’m aware. 

Word count: 3,365

Pickering, Canada
April 2024

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Curiosity Killed The Cat - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Stiles Stilinski/Reader

Word Count: 6,437

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral (Both Receiving), Mentions of Public Sex, 69, Orgasm Denial, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Fingering, A LOT OF FILTH

Notes: This is 100000000% for my precious Camile, @minhosmeanhoe because she wanted something involving Stiles and masturbation because this is all we ever talk about (we are horny fuckers lol). But, even better, HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAMILE. You are one of my bestest friends I am glad I am able to talk to you daily. I don’t know what I would do without you. I LOVE YOU!!!!❤️

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Bucky Imagine #3 | Lingerie

Originally posted by buckysqueenbitch

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Author’s Note: I have so much other stuff to write but sometimes inspiration strikes and I don’t want to lose it. Enjoy Bucky learning about lingerie! 

Rated M for conversation topics and innuendos. 

Have an idea? MAKE A REQUEST!

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Bucky wasn’t the kind of man who just went rummaging around in women’s underwear drawers. He was respectable - a true gentleman, if he said so himself - and yet here he was, eyes lingering a little too long on the lacy strap that had fallen out of the dresser. He had to admit he was curious; things had changed so much in seventy years. Women didn’t wear anything else that was similar to what it was in the forties, surely their underclothes were different, too.

He peaked over his shoulder, eyes scanning the room for any other sign of life before he allowed himself to walk a little closer. He was already invading your privacy by just being here, in your bedroom when the rest of the team was gone, so he just looked at first, studied the little black ribbon and titch of lace that was available to him. 

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