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A super fluff Peter x Reader. NO SPOILERS! 656 words of Peter. Tags are open at the bottom of my fics; let me know If you want to be tagged. Requests are open, so don’t be afraid to send them in!

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“If you try to tickle me one more time, Im going to punch you in the face.” I half yelled, turning my focus back to the video game. “I wasn’t even touching you!” Peter said, but he was clearly biting his lip to keep from smiling. Silence filled the moment as we both concentrated on the game. As my character was about to deliver the final death blow, Peters phone rang and he paused the game. “Come on!” I yelled throwing down my controller. He smirked and stuck out his tongue before picking up the call. “It’s Peter.” he said “Where? On 5th and 7th?”  I propped myself up on my elbows and felt a frown crease my lips. “Yeah, I’m on it.” He said with a sigh. He ended the call and shifted so he was facing me. He started to apologize, but I knew it wasn’t his fault. It seemed these days, Happy would call him to help out around the city; and If Tony Stark needed him, then it must be for a good reason. “(Y/n) I’m-” “Its okay Peter.” I said with a soft smile. “Go. I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.” He nodded his head and pulled me into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. I tried to calm my breathing before kissing him back. He pulled away after a short while, planting a kiss on my forehead before standing up. “Be careful!” I shouted as he carefully slid open my window. I flopped back on my stomach and stared at the paused TV. I felt the corners of my mouth turn up as I un paused the game and knocked out Peter’s character. “He owes me lunch now.” I whispered.

An hour or so later, I heard my window creak. I set down my book and grabbed Peter around the waist, helping him in. He stumbled though and almost hit his head. “Oh my god! What happened to you?” He was still in his spiderman suit and his left thigh was covered in wet blood. Under his eye, black spots were beginning to form. “It’s nothing babe I’m fine.” He said gripping my shoulder to support himself. “No your not.” I argued, creases deepening in my forehead. I let him to my bathroom, despite his protests, and sat him down on the edge of the sink. “Can you get this suit off so I can clean you up?” I asked reaching in my cabinet for a first aid kit. “If you wanted to see me naked again.” He started, pulling the suit off sexily. “You could have just, DID YOU KILL ME IN THE GAME?!” I tried to hide my smile as I stood back up and kissed Peter on the cheek. “Yep, and now you owe me lunch.” “I could have beat you.” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his abs. “Where are your priorities? Can we focus on why you have a giant cut in your thigh.” I sighed pouring peroxide into a cotton pad.

Peter often got hurt on his missions, and since May didn’t know, (and Peter sucked at First- aid) I helped him out. It was convenient that we were dating, because I could use affection to distract him from the pain. Kisses, and cuddles, even doing stitches in my bra. I crinkled my nose at the smell of the alcohol. “I was fighting off these guys and one of them sliced my thigh with a knife as I swung by on a web.” I grimaced before pressing the pad into his cut. “OWWW!” he yelled, clamping a hand over his own mouth. “It’s okay” I whispered, stretching up to give him a kiss. I pulled away and re soaked another cotton pad. He groaned in anticipation. “Can you at least roll your sleeves up?” I stifled a laugh. “Sure Peter, If seeing my wrists will help you, then yes.”

Tags: @umwhatandrea (let me know if you want to be tagged)

And I’ll see all you dudes IN THE NEXT VIDEO!!

Anti viciously pressed the web cam’s power button, cutting off the video, and curled his lip in utter disgust. All of this energy, the loud voice, the smiles and seemingly endless laughter- he was sick of it.

However… His convincing act fooled everyone; even months after Halloween, and he was in control. No one suspected anything, and nothing else mattered.

Until now.

Anti glared at the black screen through narrow slits, his gaze full of bitterness. He sensed things were off throughout playing this game, but thought little of it. Then he felt that sudden jolt… He knew exactly what it meant.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. When he opened them he was outside a cell, inside a prisoner sat on the floor. Around each bloodied wrist was a heavy metal shackle, secured by chains driven into the wall behind the man. He lifted his head at Anti’s footsteps; a haggard, pale face with heavy bags under his eyes- more than Anti remembered from last time- greeted him. The months here have taken its toll.

At any other time Anti would be thrilled seeing Jack’s pitiful state, but instead he felt his irritation deepen. Though clearly exhausted, that spark in Jack’s eyes was not there before now. Anti knew why.

What do you think you’re playing at?

Jack didn’t attempt to stand, Anti doubted he even had the strength to do so. Instead he rested his head against the wall and let out a weary chuckle. “It worked, didn’t it?” The answer was obvious; Anti being here was proof enough.

Do you think it’ll do you ANY good? Anti hissed back, pacing in front of the bars. Jack followed him with his eyes, a calm expression with almost a hint of amusement on his features.

“I got out to them. Soon, they’ll know- and they’ll put the pieces together. You’ll see.”

Of course Anti saw this coming; with any glitches that appeared, Jack’s sometimes… Difficult community analyzed every frame, every detail. They would notice the difference immediately. Anti let out a furious yell and slammed his arm against the bars; he saw Jack flinch, and his expression became guarded.

The metal clang and shout slowly faded into oblivion.

Fine. Anti softly chuckled. Let them… Figure it all out. Let them realize that all they can do is watch. He met Jack’s eyes. That their hands are stained with your blood.

Jack slowly shook his head. “No. You’re the only one responsibility. They won’t blame themselves.”

Don’t be too sure. You can’t keep fighting forever Jack- not when you’re this broken.

Jack met his gaze evenly. “I can when I have something to fight for.” He smiled, and that infuriating spark glowed brighter in his eyes. “You can’t keep me here forever.”

Anti bared his teeth- noticeably sharper than they should have been- and snarled Keep telling yourself that. See what good that does you in the end. He turned and walked swiftly away.

Jack listened to the retreating footsteps with a hint of triumph. He felt his smile widen.

In the end?… You’ll lose, Anti.

….

Welp. @booperdoopcr suggested her theories (which I recommend reading) and I was inspired! (Boredom and 4+ hours on the road also helped).

anonymous asked:

How do you make the GIFs? If I may ask. I've been wanting to do some on my own but don't know how 😅

Hi! Since I’ve been asked this question several times already, I figured that I might as well make a detailed tutorial on how I make my gifs! I’ve never really made a tutorial nor am I an expert, so please bear with me. If I’m unclear on a step, feel free to message me and I’ll clarify it for you :-)

Please like/reblog because this tutorial took hours to make!

This is the gif I will be teaching you how to make: 

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anonymous asked:

Can I ask how you make those doodles on your edits cause they are so darn cute :)

ahh thank u so much!!!! i followed a tutorial from tumblr but that confused me a bit and it left out some stuff (and i can’t find it anymore lol rip) so i can make you a little one! i hope this isn’t too confusing :-)

we’re makin something a little like this:

under the cut because this got a bit too long lol

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anonymous asked:

I love the mermaid imagine you did! Could you give us a little more of that with the same characters?

The same characters? That was… Junkrat, McCree, and Reaper. It’s Mer-May (ahhh) so I’m all for the mermaid ideas. So lemme see what I can cook up…


You’ve been on the boat for much longer than you had first thought you would be. The man (he told you a name, but you couldn’t stop thinking of him as “the man” at times) had gotten some sort of message on a device that made a shrill ringing sound. You hadn’t heard all of the conversation, but you did know when he told you there was a “change in plans.” You didn’t exactly know what that meant, but that was a few days ago, and the two of you had been together on the boat for a while.

A few days could tell you a lot about a person. Like…

Junkrat; The fact that Jamie’s shell wasn’t closed up very tight. You had heard of a human phrase for it, but had no idea what loose screws had to do with anything. Though you wouldn’t trust him anywhere near your city, you had grown a bit fond of him. He was loud, crude, and not the most well mannered. But he kept you fed and entertained, and for every bit of entertainment he provided you with you responded with information about sunken wrecks you used to frequent. He seemed to like the idea of a lot of treasure. “Ships like that are worth a lot,” he had told you when you asked why he was so interested, fiddling with something he had called a “finger trap,” though you were sure it was not meant to be used under water. “Why do you need so much money?” you asked. He hadn’t responded to that question, leading you to the assumption there was something he couldn’t exactly tell you.

“So when will you let me go, Jamie?” you had taken to calling him that because it annoyed him, and anything that annoyed him was entertaining to you. He told you that there was a new drop off point, and that he had to refuel in a port and pick up a friend. You supposed you were a little more concerned with that, since you were only just getting used to him, but Jamison talked so highly of this “Mako” that you could only hope he would be friendly. You found yourself yearning for home, though, and wishing to be back in the sea. You had space in your tank but you wanted to really stretch out. It was impossible in this cramped space. Jamison began noticing this, and he seemed… sympathetic. He thought you didn’t notice his little glances when you rested at the bottom of the tank, but you did. You wondered when you started to think it was endearing, that he worried for you. You wondered when he was less scary and more charming. You wondered when you stopped thinking of your tank as your prison.

McCree; The way Jesse McCree “smoked like a chimney” (his words, not yours) and tended to stick close to your tank, as if he was afraid you would disappear if he took his eyes off you. Him being so close let you notice so much about him; from the courser hair along his jaw to the brown of his eyes. You thought he would be an attractive mer, but he was human, and you did not ever think about relationships with humans. He had said it would be a two day trip back to the mainland, but he had received a message and come and told you that plans had changed. A two day trip was suddenly longer, and you couldn’t talk to anyone else except Jesse. He was always polite to you, had even allowed you a moment of reprieve from his ever watchful gaze when he emptied and refilled your tank.

“Why are you doing what you do, Jesse?” you asked him while you watched him go through the motions of checking over his boat (a boat! that’s what it was called). He didn’t answer you, for a long while, before he sighed and walked over to your tank. He looked up at a hand resting on your tank now. “You ever love someone, darlin’?” he asked you. You didn’t know if you could answer that in the way he might want you too, but you shook your head. He closed his eyes and snorted. “Maybe one day you will.” You weren’t always the most perceptive mer. Your friends always said that you could be on the further side of the empathetic scale, but when you looked at Jesse then, you could feel the emotion he felt. There was sorrow, so much of it. You wanted to reassure Jesse, if you could. But when you wanted to be kind, to reach out to him and touch him and remind him that you were there, your hand touched glass, and you remembered that you were still his captive. It was a sad reminder.

Reaper; The little mannerisms Gabriel had. When you had finished the little puzzles he tossed into your tank, one by one, he had conceded some hidden point to you. After, he had settled down next to your tank with a knife and a piece of wood in his hands. He would flick pieces off and every few runs of his knife through the wood he would pause and inspect his work. You watched him for hours, curious, before Gabriel even realized you were keeping your eyes trained on him. His laugh was nice; it was loud but it wasn’t unkind. You pretended you hadn’t been watching even though it was completely obvious. He thought you were funny, even when you didn’t mean to be. You had even tried your hand at cheering him up when he received that message from his friend.

“It is not the end of the world, Gabriel,” you told him when he was sulking. He kept stomping about, making these angry noises after each message he received. “Why does he have to be such an ass?” Gabriel sighed, finally settling down against your tank again. You settled as close to him as your tank would allow, resting against it. The little collection of puzzles Gabriel had allowed you to have sat at the opposite end, completed. “And it’s always on his terms. I tell him I have the catch of the century, no offense, and he decides he wants to stretch things out. Why do I do this to myself?” You listened with a patient ear, webbed fingers pressing against the glass a bit. “You do this because he is your best friend. I cannot say why he does this to you, but your willingness to put up with him makes you such a valuable friend.” Gabriel looked at you, just then, an emotion you couldn’t quite identify in his eyes. He settled down again, a small smile on his face now. “You know, when I prove to Jack that I’m the better fisherman, I’m gonna come visit you.” You liked that idea a lot.

LOL What’s motor planning again?

Me: *goes into kitchen*
Me: I should turn the coffee maker on for mom.
Me: *Walks up to the coffee maker with “12th Doctor hands” while mentally ‘watching’ a scene in a short autistic!12th Doctor fic that is currently being worked on*
Me: *Nails that dialogue in my mind.* Aha.
Me: *Smiles, looks at the coffee maker.*
Me: *Reaches out and turns on the light instead*
Me: *Leaves kitchen*
Me: Wait…something’s wrong.
Me: *Looks into the kitchen, can’t figure out what the problem is, so leaves*

10 minutes later…

Me: *Goes back into the kitchen*
Me: Why did I turn the light on and not the coffee maker?
Me: *Turns off light, turns on coffee maker.*
Me: *leaves kitchen again*


“12th Doctor hands” is something I totally picked up from the 12th Doctor. Sometimes he clasps his left hand over his right and presses the webbing between his thumbs and index fingers together. It looks like he’s holding his own hands, basically. Here’s a screenie of him doing it.

three mornings

i.

Sometimes Lieb wakes up with Web’s body crowding him – one arm thrown casually over his taut belly– fingers gripping his waist, as if Web is afraid Lieb might leave without saying goodbye.

Lieb usually takes this quiet moment to let the warmness of Web’s body cloaking him like a safety blanket as he listens to Web’s steady heartbeat and watches the rise and fall of Web’s chest.

Eventually Lieb falls back to sleep, with Web’s arm still surrounding him.

ii.

There are times where Lieb wakes up alone, the side of Web’s bed is untouched.

He hates morning like this the most where they fought the night before and Web didn’t come back to bed; preferring to sleep on the couch instead.

They both are too stubborn to say sorry, but the bed is cold and Lieb misses Web’s warm presence next to him; so he rolls out of the bed, drags his blanket with him and flops on top of his sleeping boyfriend and Web–

–His arms automatically wrap around Lieb’s scrawny frame, opening his eyes slightly to watch Lieb watching him.

“You didn’t come to bed,” Lieb pouts.

“You kicked me out remember?” Web replies, voice rough.

Lieb burrows his face into the crook of Web’s neck and kisses him there.

“Next time don’t listen to me when I’m angry and just fuckin come to bed. I miss you when you’re not there,” Lieb murmurs.

Web doesn’t reply, but he tightens his arms around Lieb and nuzzles his hair and together, they fall asleep like that, wrap around each other.

iii.

And then there are mornings where Lieb wakes up slowly, blinking his eyes only to find Web is already awake; his blue eyes looking soft in the morning sunlight as he studies Lieb.

Web’s fingers gently tracing Lieb’s face, mapping every scars and freckles and lines with the tips of his fingers; from his forehead, to his nose, to his cheeks. He rubs Lieb’s lower lip gently, his eyes watching the way Lieb parts his mouth, how red they look, how soft they feel.

Then Web leans in, presses his mouth against Lieb’s mouth; brushing lightly, teasingly. And Lieb lets out a quiet protest when Web pulls back slightly and he is smiling, the bastard. “Good morning,” Web whispers, his fingers cradling Lieb’s jaw and Lieb–

–Hums a “guten Morgen” before he pulls Web closer to him, kissing and kissing and kissing.

3

Words: 5,599
Sam & Dean x Sister!Reader
Warnings: death of a main character, blood, violence, graphic description, mild language, grief
Requested by detectiveswizardsshadowhunters “hi!! would you mind writing a little sister fic, where she never listens and the boys think shes like super incapable, until she ends up getting better than them because she secretly trains/hunts without them??? much love!”
A/N: Don’t hate me… *runs*

Your name: submit What is this?

You were standing at the window, your forehead pressed against the cool glass, and your eyes fixed on the delicately spun spider web on the other side of the pane. There were tiny dewdrops clinging to the threads and the light of the early morning sun barely peeking over the edge of the earth was illuminating them and making them shine like miniscule diamonds or strung pearls, a hidden treasure. As you watched, a small fly, perhaps one of the only other things awake this early for all you knew, became entangled in the web. You pressed your cheek against the window to watch the spider respond to its newly captured prey.

She was a harmless (to you anyway), yellow spider of the garden variety, and had been crouching near the edge of her web patiently, sitting on an old paint chip and a bit of exposed wood on the outside windowsill. As you watched, she scurried over the strings of pearly droplets to calm the struggling of the fly with a hasty bite and a silken cocoon. There was something strangely mesmerizing about the whole interaction, the simplicity and the necessity of it all, and you felt like you were peering into a tiny private world within your world.

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electric cloth smothering, the webbing of fingers pressing against the translucent, barely an outline, your amber frozen eyes, set whip back, the opening of a thigh, the finger plush, moans against plaster, year old taunts, slide refrain. draw my territory around you, make trees turn sideways, in the dark we best disclose ourselves. say I love you, say it wet and sporadic.
—  Stimie