#actually i think peter is built to irritate in general

[backhurtyy]

who do you think is the one who recruited peter b?

on one hand its funny to imagine miguel doing it. on the other its funny for miguel to just stumble upon him like a stray raccoon in the workplace.

miguel meets this man and is like "oh another peter. that's normal" before interacting with him and immediately retracting that thought. then he sees him in action and is like "oh. oh no. he's really good at being spider-man. he's just the worst at being even slightly normal or comprehensible. i would prefer peter popsicle over this"

“i would prefer peter popsicle over this” IM CRYING THATS SO FUNNY

but ummm… i’ve never actually thought about it, but i guess i’ve always just kind of assumed miguel? like the way i think it happened was he hopped to a few dimensions. found a few anomalies. realized something was wrong. went oh god i need help. and then started recruiting adult spiders? like idk i don’t feel like he’d start recruiting children before anyone else ya know. so i guess i think jess and peter b were some of the first ones.

he’d totally have to swallow his pride tho because peter is BUILT to irritate him, even pre losing gabriella, and he’d totally know that. and he’d be dragging his feet but he knows he KNOWS peter is one of the best there is and he can’t afford to be picky in this situation. he needs the help. and jess and lyla make fun of him the whole time.

actually i think peter’s just built to irritate in general. and you know what? i love him for that. annoying king 💖💖💖

[elliepassmore]

Your Blood, My Bones review

4/5 stars Recommended if you like: fantasy horror, Southern Gothic, dual POVs, generational curses

Much like The Whispering Dark, this book is good but misses the mark on being great. I typically like Southern Gothic fantasy horror (see What We Harvest , Wake the Bones , and even the fantasy horror but not Southern Gothic Small Favors ). But this book wasn't really that. It had the trappings to be that without going completely into the genre.

Wyatt comes home to find her childhood friend and crush, Peter, hanging in chains in her basement, wanting to kill her to release his curse. Then the disconnected landline rings and it's her other childhood best friend calling to tell her not to trust Peter because he wants to kill her. The execution of the premise might be more compelling if any of the characters were likeable as children. The relationship between the three of them is built on flashbacks, and it's clear Wyatt loves her BFFs, but from as an outsider reading about their relationship....they all kind of suck. James is needlessly cruel, Peter is silent while it plays out, and Wyatt is a whiny brat (obviously the least worse of the bunch, but being an annoying character in a book is a crime all on its own). I'm honestly not sure what kept them friends, and "proximity" isn't an answer. You can hate someone even if they're the only other kid(s) around. Anyway, somehow the three of them are close friends and the ghosts of the past have risen to haunt them.

I actually found the cult and ritual sacrifice bits to be interesting. I really wish Andrew had explored this aspect more deeply since I think it's got a lot of potential and really goes to show the kind of world Peter lived in, and James to an extent. I also think it would've provided more insight into the Beast and some of the other monsters that show up. Instead, we focus a lot on the characters themselves even though, as established, none of them are super likeable.

That being said, Wyatt is the most tolerable of the three, so I did end up rooting for her and liked her by the end. She's quite shaken by all that's revealed, and honestly I think her reactions over the course of the book are understandable. She has been wronged and lied to and betrayed by basically everyone she knows, and she does have the right to be upset about it. She has actually exhibits a lot of restraint, because in her shoes I can't promise I wouldn't've socked Peter and James...or at least yelled at them a bit. But she also comes to terms with the cult magic pretty quickly and works on trying to figure out a way to end the Beast's reign without sacrificing Peter. She has a lot of mettle and a lot of loyalty, and it definitely shows.

Something else I found irritating though was that there's this Big Incident that happened in Wyatt's recent past that she alludes to throughout the book. Something happened and she seems to have unwittingly hurt someone with her magic to the point where they had to go to the hospital....but we never actually find out what she did. Something with a fish tank? I don't know, but I wanted to know, particularly since it impacted her so deeply, but the book never actually addresses it in full and it kind of feels like the author didn't really have an answer herself for what happened.

Peter is...complicated. He's unnecessarily cruel at various points in the book, but at the same time I understand why. He's an immortal who has been used time and time again by Wyatt's family as a ritual sacrifice and this is the first time he's been allowed to grow up. He obviously wants out of the cycle and knows the only way to do it is to kill Wyatt. Anyone would be angry in those circumstances, so it's definitely justified. And while I dislike his cruelty to Wyatt, I also think a part of it is him trying to convince himself he can kill her. That their friendship from childhood was all a lie and he was planning to kill her the entire time (which, he was, but it wasn't a lie). Even now, he does care about Wyatt and wants to protect her even knowing it's contrary to his own goals. Likewise, there's a deep well of guilt in him over something that happened between him and James the last summer the three of them were together, and while he obviously dislikes James in the present, there's no hiding the fact that he does care about him.

While this review does seem relatively negative, I did like the concept and, as mentioned above, the characters did grow on me, even if they're also terrible. I still don't understand why Wyatt and Peter stayed friends with James, he is terrible...but it also seems like maybe he fell into the trap of "any attention is good attention." I mean, what else are you supposed to do when your parents are mega rich, ignore you, and are in a human sacrifice cult? There's no way that turns you into a good person. I'd say the characters are complex in a way that's understandable, even if not likeable.

We do get a cameo of some characters from The Whispering Dark. I didn't mind the cameos so much, but I am curious where the magic we learn of in this book fits in with the magic we learned of in that book. I'm also now curious to see if Andrews' next book, I Am Made of Death, will have cameos from these two. While neither book hit the 5 star mark for me, I will be reading that one as well.

Overall I found this book interesting and the magic system intrigued me. None of the characters were particularly likeable imo, but they did become tolerable as the book progressed and at the very least I could understand them.

[kaylans-imagines]

0. i hate her

pairing: peter b. parker x fem! reader

synopsis: in which y/n hates everything about peter parker, especially the way she can’t really hate him

↳ loosely based on the movie with the same title

warnings: cursing, fluff, a generous amount of angst, peter's an asshole, y/n's an asshole, familial death, incarceration. i don't know if there's more.

chapter warnings: cursing, starts off slow, flash.

series masterlist

*gif credits to the rightful owner*

The brisk air of the changing seasons accompanied Peter as he made his way to the school entrance from the train stop. His headphones sat snuggly inside his ears, playing a song that made the usually lonely journey to school less so. Ned didn’t take the same route as he did, so he had no one to talk to or make the trek to school less boring. He didn’t mind it; it gave him time to think and even finish school work. Still, sometimes he wanted someone by his side so he could discuss whatever was on his mind that day or ask questions whenever an assignment didn’t make sense.

The long ride to the school did give him time to people watch. There were times when he would deduce who could be a possible threat. Other times, he would simply look at people and try to figure out their stories without actually talking to them. The old lady who brought her cat onto the subway had severe separation anxiety caused by her estranged son. The man with exhausted eyes who looked like he was on the brink of passing out on his seat had a newborn daughter at home. And Peter was just trying to get to school, along with the other teenager on the subway. He didn’t talk to him, they were on entirely different wavelengths, but there was an understanding between the two of them. Whenever they saw each other, they would nod their heads in greeting. They would always sit one seat away from one another, and if the other was running late, they would wait.

He made his way up the stairs and towards the school, turning up the volume as a way to tune out the sounds of high school that he hated. The cheery rhymes that left the sounds of the cheerleaders to the arguing of students over who was right; he hated them before the bite, and he especially despised them now that he had hypersensitive hearing. Sighing in annoyance, he looked both ways before crossing the street only to rush forward as a car came barreling down the road.

“I swear to god, Y/N!” he heard her sister, Juliette, shriek, “we almost killed him!”

“But we didn’t. If you’re going to complain about my driving, then you can take the bus, Jules,”

“You almost killed someone!” Peter heard her exclaim. He could feel the way Y/N rolled her eyes.

“It’s only Peter,” she stated, making eye contact with him through the rearview as she let students pass, “who cares if he gets slightly scuffled?”

“You have literal issues,” Julie gasped. The car sped down the road, leaving Peter alone with a slightly elevated heart rate and irritation laced in his bones. It was the first day of school, and he nearly got run over. And by his ex-best friend turned enemy at that. He couldn’t wait to complain to Ned.

Their dynamic had changed, and Peter blamed her. They became friends because of Y/N’s grandmother and May in kindergarten. They were two birds of a feather until halfway towards seventh grade when Y/N became snippy and ruined what Peter thought was their perfect friendship. They drifted apart, and he blamed her for it breaking apart. He watched as she became someone he didn’t know anymore and left him behind. He just didn’t think it was fair for her to act self-righteous when she ruined their relationship.

“You okay, Pete?” Ned questioned as he fell into step with Peter, who was fuming with irritation.

“Yeah, just almost got run over by Midtown’s resident ice bitch,” he gritted. Ned nodded in response. He was friends with both Peter and Y/N once upon a time. Still, after everything she had put them through and the abrupt way she ended their friendship, he sided with Peter and subsequently lost a friend. He figured it was for the best. He wasn’t as resentful as Peter was—his friendship with Y/N hadn’t been built in kindergarten—but he still didn’t appreciate her actions.

“Oh,” he nodded in understanding, “are you okay at least?”

“Yeah, but it did sorta ruin my mood,” Peter confessed. He was having a pretty good morning until his reflexes were put to the test. He woke up on the right side of the bed and had time to eat breakfast with May before she went to work. The walk towards the subway station was nice; he said hi to everyone he usually greeted and even got a muffin from the lady with the three-year-old daughter. Then the subway wasn’t as busy as it usually was, so he wasn’t squashed next to the man with the foul body odor and could actually sit down. All of that happiness came crashing down the second he saw her in her car, looking unapologetic for nearly killing him and then dismissing her sister for chastising her.

“Well, get happy, my arachnid friend, because I heard some exciting news,” Ned smiled, poking him on the arm as they walked to their first class.

“What?”

“You’re top of our class, which means you’re a shoo-in for valedictorian,” Ned said excitedly. Peter grinned at that. All of his hard work would finally be noticed and celebrated. He had been working on greeting his class for four years, doing extracurriculars, and taking on extra projects for grade boosts. Sometimes he even stayed after school to help his teachers grade papers or help the librarian sort the books back into their respective spots on the shelves. It would all be worth it in the end after he finally reached the goal he had set for himself his freshman year.

There was a snag in his plans. While he may have been top of his class, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be pushed from his place. Y/N Y/L/N was the smartest girl at Midtown. She was everything he wasn’t. She was popular—if the excessive amounts of clubs she was part of were any indication. She was social—everyone talked about the interactions they had with Midtown’s princess. She was everywhere, and nothing Peter was. She was the head of the planning committee, and everyone knew that any school party planned by Y/N Y/L/N never disappointed. Peter couldn’t compete. He found peace in knowing that he was slightly better than her at academics.

The two continued walking in silence, content with the atmosphere they had created after finding out that Peter would finally have something go his way for once. He figured it was the least the universe could do for him. He had lost both parents before he could make memories with them, then he lost his best friend, and then he got bitten by a spider that changed his life; for better or for worse, he didn’t know. Being valedictorian wouldn’t take away the hurt the world inflicted on him, but it would make him feel somewhat better.

With a skip in his step, he walked into class with a grin so large, he didn’t think anything could bring him down. Of course, he thought wrong. His English teacher had to make a day he felt he could turn around into one he wished would end faster.

“It’s about time you all had a project—the topic of discussion, poetry. You will be partnered up and tasked with reading and creating your own poems by the end of the month,” she paused, waiting for her class to stop looking at one another and whispering amongst themselves, “I’ve already chosen your partners, so it would do you all some good to stop getting your hopes up and listen.”

With that, the high schoolers shifted in their seats and gave their attention back to their teacher. She was good at pairing up students who were cordial with one another and worked well together. Friendships usually sparked from her partnering, sometimes even relationships. So Peter, and the rest of the class, weren’t as annoyed as they wanted to be. They knew she wouldn’t let them down. Peter waited eagerly as she listed off students who would be working together. He hoped he got paired up with someone who matched his work ethic or someone he got along with.

“Peter Parker, you will be with Y/N Y/L/N,” and just like that, he hated English class and lost all faith in his teacher. He looked across the room to where the said girl was seated. She was writing in her planner—Peter was sure she was planning Ms. Ingrid’s death—but she looked up when her name was called. She turned her head and met Peter’s eyes, unamused and bored. She shook her head and looked at her planner once again. Peter took that as a sign to do the same and focus on anything other than his rising anger.

Peter watched as everyone moved to meet their partners, many of them happily talking to one another. He was stubborn. He decided that if she wasn’t going to make an effort to push aside whatever hatred she had towards him and talk to him for the sake of their grades, he wasn’t going to. He was going to sit in his seat and read a poem from the packet his teacher had handed out. Just because he had a lousy partner didn’t mean his grade had to suffer. He would complete the project by himself if he had to.

“Mister Parker, last I checked, you were to be working with Miss Y/L/N,” Miss Ingrid quipped as she walked to Peter’s desk with a teasing smile.

“Actually, Miss, I was hoping I could talk to you about that?” He asked. He liked Miss Ingrid. She was understanding and compassionate, and she didn’t talk down to her students as if they were children.

“Something wrong, Peter?” she asked, concerned. Peter felt bad. He knew he was petty, and his favorite teacher didn’t need to be pulled down to his level. But he couldn’t bring himself to work with someone who didn’t want to work with him. That usually meant he was left to do the work by himself and watch the other person still get credit. It infuriated him so much he would rather do the project himself from the start.

“Yeah, um, I can’t work with Y/N,” he muttered, smiling at her with an embarrassed smile. Peter admitted it sounded stupid and childish when said aloud, but he had his reasons.

“And, pray tell, Peter, why not?”

“I just don’t think we would work well together,” he confessed. Seeing the look on her face, Peter was quick to defend himself more, “and I just don’t want to do the work for someone else and have them get credit for doing nothing. So, if it’s alright with you, Miss Ingrid, I would like to work on this on my own.” He was practically begging. Hoping she would agree.

“I’m sorry, Peter, but this is a partner project. To lessen the workload,” she sighed, “besides, I don’t think you have anything to worry about with Y/N; she’s very good at doing her share.” She stood up with those final words and tapped the table before standing up and sending him a smile. He sighed, putting his head down and looking at his desk in annoyance. He looked up when a book landed on his desk. Closing his eyes to keep himself from exploding at whoever shattered his tranquility, he was met with eyes he used to find joy looking into. Now, he never wanted to look into them ever again.

“We’re partners. I don’t like it, you don’t like it, but we have to do it otherwise, our grades will plummet, and you can’t afford that if you want to be valedictorian. So, we’re going to push our difference aside for this one project and do it, so we never have to talk to again,” she said curtly.

That left no room for argument, which caused Peter to nod his head in agreement. She was right; he couldn’t afford to lose the one thing he was looking forward to being. Sighing deeply, he motioned for her to sit down and opened the book she threw on his desk. She took a seat beside him and opened another poetry book, focusing on the words written on the paper and trying to plan their poem out. They had to get a good grade; she didn’t want him to blame her for something else.

Despite his annoyance and hatred towards her, he couldn’t help but glance up from the book he was reading. Of course, he had seen her around, it was hard to ignore one of the most known girls in the school, but he had never taken the time to admire her. His anger and betrayal kept him from doing so. She still had the same gleeful look in her eyes and the confident aura around her. Time had done her well. She had lost her kidlike features, and it was evident that she had matured. He would be a liar if he said she wasn’t pretty, and even that didn’t truly justify it.

When the bell signaled the end of class, Peter quickly grabbed his belongings and left the classroom. He didn’t stop to wait for anyone, much less Y/N. Their only interactions would be in the English room, a controlled space where she couldn’t kill him for so much as breathing in her direction. Walking towards his locker, he heard the noises of people as they navigated the busy halls of the school. Stopping at his locker with a sigh, he leaned his head on the cool metal. The day had been long, and he shrill had six other classes to go to.

A tap on his shoulder made him pick up his head. Y/N stood in front of him, bouncing on her feet as she played with her fingers.

“You left before I could ask when you can meet up. The faster we get this done, the faster we can stop being around one another,” she quipped. “I’m free on Friday after school.”

“I’m not. I have the Stark internship,”

She rolled her eyes at his response, “okay and? We need to get this done so we can go back to never speaking to each other. I’m sure Tony Stark will understand that you need to take one day off to do a school project.”

“Not happening. I don’t know if you know this, but you’re not worth losing the internship over,” he jibed. He missed the look of hurt that flashed on her face. She shook her head and scoffed.

“Well, we need to get this done. Either we work on this stupid project on Friday, or we’re both failing,” she reminded before walking away. Peter groaned and banged his head on the now open door. He ignored the looks he got from his locker neighbors and kept his head buried in the empty space. Friday’s were the days he went into the Avenger’s compound and actively worked in the lab with Tony after he finished his Spider-Man duties; the last thing he wanted to do was infect the compound with her hatred and bad vibes.

He didn’t want to invite her, but he had been working on something with Tony for the past two weeks that he needed to finish. He figured he could get some work done while someone gave her a tour around the facility—probably Steve. He was easy to convince—then he would work on the English project with her and beg father time to go faster. She was right; the quicker they finished their work, the faster he could go back to hating her. With another groan, he picked up his head and closed his locker, rushing after Y/N and grabbing her by the wrist when he caught her before she slipped into her next class.

“Friday. We’ll meet after school in the parking lot and go to the Avenger’s facility. You can drive, right?” she nodded and pulled her hand out of his grip, glaring at him.

“Don’t ever grab me like that again,” she sneered, “but fine, whatever. I have to drop Jules off at home first though, is that gonna be a problem, Peter?” He knew she wasn’t asking him.

“No, whatever,” she nodded curtly and walked in, not sparing him a glance. He shook his head and walked away. Anger seeped into his bones, and annoyance clouded his head. The following weeks were going to be torture. He just knew. There was nothing worse than being forced to work with someone the person despised.

“Hey, Penis Parker!” there are worse things, apparently. He breathed out through his nose and turned around, meeting his eyes. He knew if he ignored Flash, he wouldn’t give up. He was relentless, and his voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

“What, Flash?” he ground out. Flash skidded to a stop beside him with a sick smile on his face.

“I heard from a little birdie that you were partnered up with Midtwon’s resident Princess,” he started.

“Yeah, so?” he questioned. He wanted out of the conversation as soon as possible. He didn’t want to talk to his bully about his enemy. That didn’t sound like a fun Tuesday.

“So, you can help me,”

“One, why would I help you with anything?” he questioned, “and two, I’m going to regret asking, but what could I possibly help you with?”

“Because I have something you might like, and you’re going to help me get Jules Y/L/N to go to the Fall Dance with me,” Peter paused in his step and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Okay, so what does that have to do with me being partners with Y/N? Can’t you just ask Jules?”

Flash snorted, “you’re an idiot, Parker. You don’t just ask the Jules Y/L/N out, okay? Everyone knows that Y/N tells her every negative thing about the guys at Midtown to keep her uninterested and that they’re always together.” He stated.

“I’m still not sure where I fall into this or what you could possibly offer me in return,”

“I’m glad you asked,” Peter rolled his eyes but continued listening, “if you can get Y/N to, I don’t know, fall in love with you so she eases off her ‘I hate the men at Midtown’ rhetoric, then I can swoop in and take Jules to the dance without a hitch.”

“And what do I get in return?”

“Two hundred bucks does wonders for the poor, no?” Flash snarked.

“Three hundred, and you’ve got yourself a deal, Eugene,” Peter smirked. Flash blinked in anger but nodded his head anyway, reaching his hand out and shaking it. Flash walked away and left Peter in the empty hallway, rethinking everything he had agreed to. It was cruel and harsh. Sure, Y/N had stopped being his friend and became a bitch towards him, but he would be playing with someone’s feelings. Then again, three hundred dollars could help May with the bills, and it would be retribution for all the shit Y/N had put him through.

He was going to do it, and he wouldn’t allow himself to feel guilty for it. Because it was her, and she deserved to feel some of the pain she had put him through.

next

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[shyficwriter]

Temporary Home: Chapter 15

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Peter and you have started another prank war. Who will come out on top?

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: Thanks to anon for submitting this idea for a cute fluffy scene to include in the story! Also, for my records this chapter ends on day 29 of the Guardians living with reader. Enjoy!

Word Count: 6,812

It soon became clear that the prank war was back on.

Just as you had resolved to the previous night, you squirted lemon juice in Peter's coffee when he wasn't looking.

He made a face upon tasting his ruined coffee, but just gave you a look of sleepy contempt as he dumped it in the sink rather than complaining. He knew what he had done to deserve it. However, that didn't mean he wasn't going to get you back.

He had his revenge later in the sitting room. He called you over, stating he had a question about a book. When you got closer to him, he then asked, "Hey, do you smell popcorn?"

You raised an eyebrow, and of course took in a big whiff. Big mistake.

You immediately gagged, your nostrils having been assaulted by the rankest smelling fart you think could have ever been expelled from a human body. It even rivaled Yondu's incident with dairy.

Peter lost it, doubling over with laughter as you backed away with your mouth and nose covered.

"Ugh! You nasty fecker! Oh my god!" you cried out, still backing away. "What's wrong with you!"

Kraglin, Drax, and Rocket were now also laughing from their places near the television. Drax laughed the loudest, saying, "Quill! That was brilliant! I'm not even mad that I lost the bet! HAHAHA! I'm going to try that!"

The bet he was referencing had happened moments prior, when Peter saw you in the hall and hurried into the sitting room whispering to his friends that he bet 20 units he could make you willingly smell his farts. Ah, what an immature lot they are.

You would have smacked Peter, but that would mean getting closer to him and the smell and you thought better of it, instead turning with the intent to leave the room completely, leaving them still laughing in your wake with only revenge on your mind.

You tried to think about what you had at your disposal, and remembered that you still had the whoopee cushion after you had snatched it back from Kraglin during the last prank war. You kind of wish you knew where your spider went though. It proved marvelously effective last time. After Peter threw it at you and it resulted in your arm getting injured, you hadn't really thought about what happened to it afterwards until now. You obviously hadn't taken it, so you just assumed that it must still be with Peter. You momentarily considered looking in his room for it, but the thought of searching through his stuff felt strange to you, even if you would be looking for your own toy.

You remembered the sticky notes in your desk up stairs and thought if worse came to worse, you could always pull a classic "Kick me" sign.

You decided a walk might help you consider your options better and so you collected your earbuds from the hall table and made your way towards the back door. You noticed Gamora in the kitchen on your way, and realized she might actually have the answer to one of your questions.

"Um, hey, Gamora?"

She turned to give you her attention. "Yes?"

"I was wondering..." You suddenly felt ridiculous for asking, but pushed it down, "if maybe you had seen if Peter still had that toy spider of mine? I was wondering if I might have it ba-"

"Nuh-uh. That ain't happening."

You raised an eyebrow in surprise, but not at her, for she hadn't been the one to answer, and she was just as surprised by this sudden third-party interjection.

It had been Yondu who had spoken, and he spoke again. "I'm the one that's got it, and I ain't givin' it back." He sat at the table looking at you with his arms crossed and wearing a smirk, as if daring you to complain about it. He had snatched it the night you dislocated your elbow, around the time he was scolding Peter and Kraglin and calling an end to that prank war himself after it had resulted in an injury.

You raised both eyebrows in surprise now. "Excuse you?" you say, surprised at his boldness and a bit irritated at how he now seemed like a scolding teacher who had confiscated contraband from a naughty child.

"Yondu, you can't just steal her property." Gamora chided.

"Ya heard me. Last time she and Quill had it that happened," he gestured to your arm. "So I'm keeping it since clearly neither of the two of 'em seem to have any sense. She wouldn't be askin' for it back if they weren't gettin' into it again."

You exchanged a look with Gamora. Her expression told you that she seemed to agree with his argument, but didn't want to risk saying so, and that she now seemingly regretted being involved in this situation.

Deciding you were on your own you opened your mouth to tell him off, but before you could he spoke again.

"Don't try denyin' it either. I saw ya putting that sour juice stuff in his coffee. I know the two of ya are back at it again with that prank war stuff," he said almost smugly. "Ya ain't getting it back." He didn't want another prank war to result in more injuries, and if he was honest, he was still slightly salty about having been caught in the crossfire of one of your pranks that had been meant for Peter. He thought outright admitting to confiscating your spider toy would hopefully send the message to you to knock it off before you got started.

You bit your lips and narrowed your eyes at him, half embarrassed at being called out like that. You then shook your head. You were not about to demand or beg for the return of a rubber spider like a child. You straightened your back slightly and said, "Whatever. Keep it then. Don't care." in your best flippant tone. You turned away, putting in your earbuds and added, "Going for a walk. Try not to burn the house down," as you exited out the back door and left the two of them in the kitchen.

You didn't need that spider anyways.

***

It was a cooler day out, overcast in a way that made you think it might rain that night, and you were glad you thought to grab a jacket before you left for your walk. You thought you might visit your old tree, and assess that old door while you were out there. There wasn't a whole lot you could do with your arm still in a brace, but you knew you could still at least open it and give it a general look to see what you might need to build a new door for it.

However, when you got there you quickly realized that the door was simply too awkwardly big and slightly too flimsy due to decay from the elements to risk trying to open it with just one arm. You didn't want to risk falling in it and either causing further injury and/or not be able to climb back out if it turned out the ladder rungs descending into the tunnel were bad too. You were now kicking yourself for not having fixed it months ago when you first noticed how bad it had gotten. At least at that period of time your arm wasn't in a brace and you didn't have eight houseguests to worry about.

You sighed. For now you settled on making a list in your phone of the different materials you'd need to make a sturdier door in the future when you were less... indisposed. No big deal. The world wasn't going to end if you couldn't fix it immediately, and honestly it was probably dumb of you to come out there right now in the first place. Sure, maybe you could get the door built in your current state. Maybe. If no one was around to see you breaking the doctor's orders on the weight restriction and then tell on you to Fury. But that didn't change the fact that you'd then need to carry it out there somehow. Something you definitely couldn't do in your current state. There was perhaps the option to bring the materials out there and assemble them on-sight, but you knew you couldn't carry them out there in a timely fashion either. Could you if you asked for help? Absolutely. Were you going to? Not a chance.

You hung out around the tree for a bit, just listening to music before deciding to head back, and that's when you noticed some pine cones littering the ground.

This gave you an idea. You remembered once when you were little and your dad took you and your brother camping. Your brother had hidden pinecones in the bottom of your sleeping bag. Your feet came in contact with the foreign objects, and being met with weird almost scaly feeling forms instead of the softness of your sleeping bag made you jump right out of said bag with a shriek.

You grinned. You had found your revenge prank. You only hoped that it would have the same effect on a grown man finding these at the foot of his bed as it did on seven-year-old you finding them in your sleeping bag.

Now you had another reason to be glad you wore a jacket. You could hide the pinecones in the pockets as well as hiding them inside the jacket itself and zip them inside.

You loaded up several pinecones. Enough to be sure he'd notice when crawling into bed, but not so many that they'd be noticed as you snuck them into the house.

You arrive back at the house to find the house mostly quiet, and it made you worry that Peter might be in his room and you wouldn't be able to place the pinecones.

However, just to your luck, you managed to catch a glimpse of him and a few others out front through the kitchen window. Perfect.

You quickly make your way upstairs and headed towards Peter's room. The upstairs seemed to be empty and you were just about to congratulate yourself on your good fortune as you already started pulling pinecones out of your pockets, until you noticed Rocket standing in Peter and Gamora's room.

Seeing him caused you to start and you dropped a couple of your pinecones on the ground due to your arm brace hampering your ability to reflexively catch them before they fell. The sound of the pinecones hitting the floor caused Rocket to startle in turn.

"Uh..." you said awkwardly, stepping into the room and picking up your pinecones, "What you doing?"

Rocket, who had been digging through a dresser drawer, responded with, "...Nuttin. What are you doing?" He eyed the pinecones in your hands.

"Nothing." You responded.

An awkward silence fell for a moment. You both knew the other wasn't really supposed to be there, that the only reason for being there right then was mischief of some sort, and you both knew that the other knew that you knew. There was only one thing for it.

Rocket spoke again. "Right..."

You nod. "Yes... good. So... carry on then?"

Rocket nodded slowly. "Yeah..." He turned back to looking for whatever it was he was snooping for.

Taking the hint, the unspoken 'I won't tell if you won't," you carried out your plan, removing the pinecones from your jacket and placing them at the foot of Peter's bed under the blankets.

You finished quickly, catching Rocket's gaze again before you left. A silent nod was all that was exchanged and you were on your way.

***

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful. You read, you listened to music, you got roped into a game of Monopoly that went on far too long because Mantis kept needing reminded of the rules. You didn't entire blame her. It was pretty obvious that it was everyone but Peter's first time playing.

Speaking of Peter, you were surprised he hadn't tried to mess with you the entire game, and you wondered if Gamora might have got on him after hearing Yondu say he could tell that the two of you were starting in on another prank war, or if Yondu had scolded him himself.

Sometime after the game had finished- Gamora won, and Peter pouted- you went to get a drink from the kitchen. When you returned to the sitting room to grab another book to bring upstairs to read you saw Drax approach Yondu and ask, "Yondu, do you smell popcorn?"

Not wanting to sit through another round of what Peter had done to you that morning, you quickly grab a random Sci-Fi/Fantasy book from the shelf and turn to get out of there just in time to hear Yondu reply with, "What the hell is popcorn?"

This was immediately followed by the sound of a very loud fart along with Drax's booming laughter.

In startled surprise you sharply turned in their direction to see Drax laughing and Yondu's face scrunched in both confusion and what was likely disgust.

Peter was laughing too, but at Drax rather than Yondu's misfortunate proximity to his offender. "Drax! Buddy, the fart's supposed to be silent."

Drax didn't seem to mind his mistake, just simply responded with "Ohhh!" and continued to laugh while Yondu shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

Taking in the sight you couldn't help but giggle too at just how ridiculous the situation was. You brought a hand up to your mouth to suppress it, but the sound caught the attention of Yondu and Peter anyway. Yondu's eyes narrowed and Peter was pleasantly surprised that you found the situation funny as well.

You broke their gaze and retreated to your room. Better to escape before you risked smelling anything awful.

***

It wasn't hard to tell when Peter found what was waiting in his bed that night. However, instead of girlish screams like the night he found the spider, he let out a cry of, "Gah! What the hell!?"

You grinned as you sat on your bed reading your book. Mantis was already fast asleep in her bed, and she stirred at the sound of Peter's cries just on the other side of the wall. After looking toward you and seeing you sitting calmly she determined there must not be any danger and soon fell back to sleep.

A few minutes later, though, you were surprised to see Peter walking into your room.

Startled at the sudden intrusion you jolted and as he approached you, rather quickly at that, you said, "Hey- what are you doing?"

He stopped in front of you with a smirk and raised his arms. It was then you realized he had been carrying a shirt bunched up as if it were being used as a sack.

Unceremoniously he emptied the shirt/sack over your head, showering you with all the pinecones you had hid in his bed.

"Hey!" you complain, raising your good arm to shield your head from the coniferous onslaught.

Mantis stirred again, lifting her head to see what was going on.

"This is for leaving those in my bed." he laughed, turning to leave. "And don't think that counts as me getting you back!" he added as he stepped out the door.

Mantis yet again laid back down to rest upon seeing the disturbance was just Peter's shenanigans. You got the feeling that she must be used to it.

***

The next couple days were mostly spent with you and Peter battling back and forth via small pranks.

Yondu obviously noticed, and despite him acting like he didn't want the two of you to get started again, he didn't say or do anything to stop it. It was clear it was keeping your mind off what what had been bothering you, so he just let the two of you be. Especially as it seemed to be harmless.

Kraglin mostly stayed out of it this time. Sure, he helped Peter some, but he was still more likely to bend to Yondu's orders of "This prank war is over!" from last time. That, and he still felt bad about what happened with the incident with the spider, even if it had been mostly Peter's idea.

Peter got you with the old 'shoulder tap misdirection' a couple times, where he'd tap one shoulder and either be on the other side when you turned to look, or have walked away completely.

You hit back by turning the batteries backwards in the remote, knowing he'd likely be the first to use it that morning.

After he finally figured that one out, he decided he'd retaliate by turning all your books backwards on the shelf. When you walked in that evening to see him mid-prank, you simply sighed and rolled your eyes. Seemingly embarrassed to have been caught mid-prank he laughed nervously and straightened up, rubbing the back of his head.

You rolled your eyes and left the room, hoping that since he'd been caught he'd then turn them back right way round. Knowing it was unlikely, you decided to shove some newspaper in his shoes. You could hear Drax in the background laughing at Peter for getting caught as you walked away to retrieve an old newspaper from the table in the hall.

He clearly must have found it at some point the next morning because he got you back around lunchtime by pouring just a little bit of water in your seat right before you sat down to eat.

You jumped from your seat the moment you felt the cold water soak the left side of your ass and after a few seconds of reaching back to feel the wet spot and checking the chair you looked over to where he was sitting and narrowed your eyes.

He simply grinned at you like he had pulled the best prank ever.

Taking a breath, you straightened and just shook your head, warning him that he shouldn't escalate unless he wanted you to do the same.

He didn't seem to take your warning seriously.

***

The next morning when getting ready you saw that Peter had struck again. You didn't know when, or how he had managed to find the time to both sew a pair of your socks shut halfway down with sloppy grey stitches and place them back in your dresser (on top so they'd be first picked, of course) without you noticing, but you did know that this meant double war.

He had pranked you twice in a row, without waiting for you to have retaliated against his last prank first. Or, more likely, he had set this prank and then pulled another without waiting for you to find the first one. Tsk, Tsk, Peter. Bad form.

You found another pair of socks, luckily he had only bothered to adulterate one pair, and then went to confront him.

"You're really asking for it." you say, thrusting the socks towards him in the hall.

"What?" he asked. Trying to act innocent, no doubt.

"You sewed my socks shut. I warned you, don't escalate unless you want me to do the same."

There wasn't really any anger in your voice despite your warning tone, which Peter took as a good sign. "I didn't escalate-"

"Oh-ho! Don't try that with me! You double pranked!" As the words left your mouth you internally cringed. This reminded you of how the two of you had bickered like children in the grocery store. You pushed the feeling that you sounded like a teenager in a Disney sitcom aside for now.

Peter eyed you for a moment before crossing his arms and smugly replying, "Technically no. You interrupted my book prank and then stuffed paper in my shoes. So, because I technically didn't finish my prank, you double pranked."

"No-" you started.

"Yes." He laughed. "So if anyone escalated, it was you." He said in a teasing voice, aiming a couple pokes to your abdomen and making you flinch back at the touch.

"I did not!" you argued, smacking his hand away.

"Eh... ya kinda did..." he drawled out with a grin. "So, I think that means you gave permission for all unwritten rules of pranking to just be thrown out the window." He chuckled, a mischievous glint to his eyes.

"No-" you said warningly. "I did not." You could tell he was just trying to piss you off, but you weren't going to let him win.

"Yeah, I think you did..." He lightly laughed. "So anything else that happens... you'll only have yourself to blame." He said the last bit in a sing-songy voice and went to walk into the kitchen. He stopped momentarily and turned back to you with a grin. "However, you can always avoid any further annoyance by just declaring me the prank master..."

You blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Declare I'm the prank master and you won't have to worry about what I'll do next."

You scoffed at him. "You're dreaming."

Peter grinned wider. "Nope. I'm just 'The Prank Master.'"

You narrowed your eyes and walked past him into the kitchen. "You're gonna regret that," you warned, earning only a chuckle from him. There was no way you were going to declare him master of anything.

You made your way to the pantry to find something quick for breakfast and Peter went to pour himself some coffee.

That's when you found it. Your next prank idea. And boy, was it going to be good.

While grabbing a pop-tart from the pantry, you happened to notice a certain box of gel food dye sitting next to your spices. Your eyes lit up, knowing exactly what you would do with it. You quickly pocketed the blue vile and hid the rest of the box behind the spices where it couldn't be seen for security purposes, just in case Peter would happen to have the same idea. You weren't going to do it right away, but knew it couldn't hurt to have the little bottle on hand just in case...

***

After breakfast you decided to head out to the shed to survey the pile of spare wood you had.

In the shed you found Rocket. This wasn't surprising as he spent a decent amount of time tinkering in the shed since you showed him the workshop. You still hadn't gotten around to finding the spare key for him, just letting him continue to use yours since there wasn't a lot you could do out there anyway until you got the brace off anyway.

You greeted him with a simple, "Hey," that Rocket returned as you made your way back to the spare wood to look over what you had on hand as far as repairing the old tunnel door to get an idea of what might you need to pick up from town.

Was it useful to look now seeing as you likely wouldn't get the brace off for at least a couple more weeks? No, but you were restless and you were really just looking for an excuse for something to do until that night when you could enact your prank.

"Whatcha doing?" Rocket asked, barely looking up from whatever plans he was drafting up on the old pad of paper you left out in the workshop.

"Nuttin," you reply, finishing up your shifting around of the wood and determining that you might have just enough of the right cuts already out there to make a full door, but you might need to pick up some more wood for it, as well as some brackets, later.

Rocket grunted in response and you start to walk back out when something caught your eye over by the long workbench.

You looked down to examine it, and a slight smile played on your lips.

"Did you fix my stool?" you asked, turning to him.

He didn't look up. "Nope."

You raise an eyebrow, mouth twitching upwards in humor. "Oh really? Then who did, if not you? Other than me, you're the only one who comes out here."

Rocket's gaze remained on the notebook. "Dunno. Must have been a 'stool fairy.'" Those last two words were laced with sarcasm.

You smirked. "Ah. I see. Well if you happen to see this 'stool faery,' be sure to tell him I said thank you." You turn and begin to walk out of the shed.

Rocket's ears twitched back for just a second and he grunted out in response, "Uh huh. Sure thing."

***

Unfortunately the stars didn't align that night for you to use the gel coloring on Peter. You had to time it just right to both make sure no one got caught in the crossfire and to not make it obvious you were up to something.

This, however, was probably for the best because Fury's visit the next day caught you off guard. You had been so busy pranking and being pranked and researching door construction and tunnel maintenance that you had managed to lose track of the days and didn't realize it was time for another weekly check-in until you heard him knock at the door that late afternoon. The sound actually startled you at first, and you mentally cursed him for insisting on keeping the times he'd show up a surprise.

Again, probably for the best you weren't able to pull that prank. You weren't sure how pleased Fury would be with you if he saw what you had planned to do to Peter if you had succeeded in going through with it.

The visit was brief. Same old news about the Guardian's situation; nothing changed, little to no progress made. It was time to re-stock the rations again and the guys helped Maria with that like last time. The doctor also accompanied them, and of course he ignored your case for removing the brace and instead just set the hinge to a slightly increased range of movement. He did say that as long as you continued your 'good behavior' it might be ready to come off the next week. You weren't going to hold your breath. Oh, and he also increased your weight restriction to ten pounds. Yay...

At one point Agent Hill pulled you aside like last time, wanting to check in to see if matters regarding your mental health had improved since the last visit.

You answered honestly that they had, but didn't bother to mention that the reason why was likely because Peter had managed to keep you annoyed enough that you didn't have time to dedicate enough thought to what had previously been bothering you.

She tried to pry more, but you weren't really giving her anything, so she just resigned that what she had been able to garner was good enough and the two of you rejoined the group just before Fury announced they would be leaving.

***

It didn't take long after they left for Peter to resume being his annoying self.

You were in the sitting room trying to read, but Peter kept singing along to a song on his Zune that he had come to realize you absolutely hated. To make matters worse, it seemed that he was intentionally singing as poorly as he could just to annoy you. He even got Kraglin to join in with him.

How could you tell it was just to annoy you? Well it didn't start with the singing. It started with tapping. Constant tapping. With his foot on the floor. With his knuckles on the coffee table. He even came up behind you at one point after you refused to react and started tapping you on the head as you sat curled on the sofa attempting to read. That one finally got you to react and scold him to knock it off, and that's when he switched to singing.

Of course, you told him to take it somewhere else. Did he listen? No. He instead moved to sit right next to you and sang louder.

You threatened to chop him in the throat if he didn't take his annoying self somewhere else, and while that got him to stand up, he didn't leave. Instead that's when he recruited Kraglin, who had walked in just a few moments prior to see what all the racket was, and who also didn't hesitate to accept an earbud from Peter and follow his lead.

You tossed your head back on the sofa in frustration and let out a growl as you gritted your teeth.

Peter broke his singing to laugh and tell you that he warned you, all you had to do to make it stop was admit his was the master.

And that's when you threw the pillow at him.

Well, you had been aiming for him, at least. You would have hit him too, had he not dodged at the last second, allowing for the pillow to instead smack Yondu, who no one had noticed had walked into the room, right in the face.

Your eyes widen, as do Peter's and Kraglin's. Only they're trying not to laugh as Yondu's stony face stares at you.

In your startled shock you stammer as you attempt to make an apology, but as he picks the pillow up from the floor all you are actually able to get out is, "I- Uh- I didn't mean-" and a nervous giggle.

Yondu stands back up, pillow now in his hands, and cocks his head at you. "Oh so ya think that's funny, huh?" He starts to walk towards you.

You of course deny it, trying to set the record straight that it had been meant for Peter, but the glint of a playful grin mixed with his grouchy façade made you unable to suppress a nervous grin as he approached. He then tossed the pillow back at you and you deflected it back onto the sofa.

"Nah, I think ya thought that was funny, even if it was meant for my boy." He was standing over you now and Peter and Kraglin were snickering as Peter encouraged him, saying that he thought you definitely thought it was funny to have hit Yondu with the pillow.

"Looks like someone needs to teach ya a lesson in manners, missy." Yondu said as he reached out and squeezed rapidly right above your knee.

Caught off guard you instantly throw back your head and cackle, your hands instinctively reaching for his as you kicked out. "No! Stop it!" you cry out between giggles before managing to free yourself and stand up from the sofa.

Abandoning your book you attempt to escape, but Yondu just grabs you by your good arm and pulls you back, effortlessly succeeding in securing you in a headlock and purposely arranging it so that your good arm was between the two of you and your braced arm was out to the open. He knew with the limited range of motion the braced arm had available you wouldn't really be able to use it to help free yourself in any meaningful way. He then proceeded to give you a noogie.

"Hey! Cut it out!" you complain, uselessly pushing against his shoulder from behind with your good arm. You cursed your arm brace. Without it you could have gotten out of this hold in 3 seconds tops. You still technically could, but didn't want to use that method unless you had to. You didn't want to risk hurting the older man, after all.

Yondu paused a moment and pretended to think. "...Nah. I didn't get an apology yet."

"Ugh! Fine! I'm sorry about the pillow! Happy? I already told you I meant it for Pe-TER!" You squeaked when Kraglin cheekily couldn't resist coming up to pinch your ribs in your current vulnerable state. "Knock that off!" you ordered. It of course only earned you another tickly squeeze from the first mate and the three men to laugh as you commanded Yondu to let you go before you made him.

"Ya ain't gonna make me do nuttin, missy." Yondu laughed, clearly believing he could take you in a fight any day even if your arm wasn't injured. "Where's my apology for when ya pranked the sink and it sprayed all over me?" Yondu asked with a mischievous chuckle. He then pinched your nose shut just to mess with you further. This prompted you to smack his shoulder with your good hand, but he did let go, laughing about how you were a 'feisty one.'

"Yeah," Peter egged on for the sink comment, laughing. "He yelled at me for that!"

You huff out a sigh. "Fine. Sorry for that too. Now this is your last warning to let me go!"

This only made Yondu and the other two laugh and Yondu went to noogie you again. Clearly they were underestimating you. Well, you did try to give him a warning...

In one quick motion you positioned your foot between his so that your leg was locked behind his thigh, reached your good arm up to rest your hand on his forehead, and threw your weight backwards, sending you both to the floor.

Yondu went easily, clearly having been caught off guard and landed on his back with an "oof!" and subsequently released you. Surprisingly though, he didn't seem angry about landing on the floor.

As you both sit up he was actually chuckling, to your surprise.

"Damn, didn't think ya had that in ya." Yondu laughed as he stood up.

Peter and Kraglin, who had went momentarily silent when the two of you fell, were now laughing again. Kraglin made a joke about how he didn't know you could actually fight.

You just grumbled and grabbed your book, deciding you would retreat to your room to finish reading for the night where you were less likely to be annoyed.

Ironically, the whole ordeal actually caused you to forget about the prank you had intended to pull on Peter until you again missed your chance to do it. Oh well, there was always tomorrow, right?

***

The next day you announced to those in the kitchen that you were making a run into town and told them if there was anything they needed to let you know now while you were making a list.

They didn't list-off much. Again, SHIELD provided them with pretty much everything they needed. Some razors, hair conditioner, lotion, and a couple requests for some Earth snacks they had come to enjoy were among the items requested. Simple stuff.

Then Yondu decided to be cheeky and claim his request was for you to take Peter with you again.

"No way," you say flatly, remembering the last run into town. "Not happening."

Yondu just grinned and leaned against his chair. "Fury said ya got to. Ya can't leave without a buddy 'til yer arm is healed up." He elbowed Kraglin and added, "Didn't he, Krags?"

Kraglin, clearly not expecting to be suddenly roped into the conversation said, "Uh, yeah. When you was in the other room talking to that Miss Agent Hill lady when they was here yesterday. He-uh- he told us then." He wasn't exactly the best liar.

You narrowed your eyes. "He did not." You looked to Gamora, who seemingly then immediately realized she had anywhere else to be before you could ask her to confirm.

"Ya can always ask him yerself." Yondu smirked, sure that like last time you wouldn't dare call Fury to confirm.

"Or I can not do that because I know he didn't," you countered.

"I wouldn't be too hasty girl," Yondu drawled. "'Cause what if I'm right? Ya leave without a buddy, and we can just call him and tell him ya broke his rules... and well, we all know what he said he'd do with ya if ya did that."

"You know, I didn't really take you to be such a snitch." You say, irritation clear in your voice. You knew it was at best childish, and at worst fighting words, but you were too frustrated to care.

Instead of being offended, Yondu just laughed and leaned back with his hands folded behind his head. "Gotta do something to pass the time. 'Sides, I think 'blackmail' has a nicer ring to it than 'snitchin'."

You glare at him, not giving him the satisfaction of telling him that he was technically right. This wasn't him being a snitch. This was blackmail. You just didn't understand why this was the hill he decided to die on.

He continued. "Yer better off to just save yerself the trouble and take Peter."

You eye him for a bit before deciding this time you would call his bluff. Partially because you knew he was lying, but also because a tiny part of you was afraid he wasn't, and you knew what would happen if he wasn't.

You dialed up Fury, knowing that the consequences for possibly annoying him with a dumb phone call were vastly less than what they'd be if you disobeyed an order, especially since you were already skating on thin ice. He also seemed to be less upset with you lately due to your 'good behavior,' so at least you had that going fo you. You almost thought you saw Yondu's smirk falter when you started dialing. Almost.

To your surprise, Fury answered after only a couple rings. You put the phone on speaker, and inform him your reason for calling was to confirm something that had been said.

"They're trying to tell me that when Agent Hill pulled me aside yesterday you instructed them to tell me that, under your orders, I am not allowed to drive into town without taking someone with me until my arm heals. Is that correct?"

Fury was quiet a moment before he answered, his voice seeming neutral. "I did not say that."

Yondu and Kraglin's faces fell slightly, and like a child you made a quiet, "Ha!" noise and stuck your tongue out at them, but before you could thank him, Fury spoke again.

"But I am now."

Your eyes widened and shot back to the phone, as if you'd be able to see your director in there. "I'm sorry, what?"

Yondu burst out laughing at your expression, and Kraglin joined in with a grin.

"Effective immediately I'm requiring you to bring a companion on any trips you make into town. Mr. Quill would be the safest choice, but as long as they pass for human, I don't care who it is."

You tried not to sputter. "Sir-... that-... Why-??"

"It's not a bad idea," he said cooly, adding, "and if you're gonna call me to settle a petty squabble then you better be prepared to get an outcome you aren't going to like." He didn't sound angry, more just matter-of-fact.

You blinked. Did he really just imply he was doing this just to annoy you? "Sir, I ask you to reconsid-"

"If you want to keep going, Agent, I can easily make this decision permanent."

This set off another round of laughter from the guys, including Peter from behind you who had walked into the kitchen with Gamora at some point. You didn't know how long they were standing there, but it seemed he had also heard Fury's decision.

With slight heat in your cheeks, you respond to your director. "No, sir."

"Good. Have a good day, Agent." Fury replied, and then hung up. If you didn't know better, you'd say his tone sounded almost amused.

You put the phone back in your pocket and rubbed your hand over your eyes while the others teased you.

"That's what ya get for not just listenin' to me in the first place, girl. Now ya really do have to do it!" Yondu laughed.

"I hate you," you say bluntly.

He only grinned in response and called over to Peter. "Ya heard the man, boy! Looks like yer takin' a trip!"

Peter grinned cheekily at you and you roll your eyes. "Fine. Get ready," you order as you walk past him and out of the kitchen. Then, seeing an opportunity to let out some frustration (probably misplaced in this instance, honestly) you turned back with a smirk and added, "This time don't forget to go potty before we leave!"

You turned away again, but not before being able to see the cheeky grin fall from his face and hear him yell back, "Not cool, dude!" along with some snickering from the others in the background.

Little did you know, though you probably should have, that decision to embarrass him would seal the fate of your nerves, and possibly your sanity as well, on the trip to come.

[spiltscribbles]

May I please have some wolfstar height difference headcanons? I’m so sick of tall remus in all these fics I just want tall sirius 😭

JBDFIJFIFSYIGF

Omfgb!!! You are such a cinnamon sprinkled muffin Nonny😂😂 this is literally such a mood I’m screaming!!! Sirius being the taller of the duo is literally the only caveat I gave @omgcmere when she wrote me the boys in my BIRTHDAY FIC and THE FICLET she wrote me after I won our bet! bahahaha! It’s like just one of those things that really throws me when I read tge opposite kgduhg And both of those FICs are SO fucking beautiful! And I hate her and I hope she chokes on a spoiled egg!!!  

Okay so real quick, general disclaimer! If you prefer Remus as being the taller of them like in the movies, that is the bees knees! You do you and thrive icon! The point of Fandom is to enjoy yourself and live it up babey! Only thing I absolutely can not stand is when folks make Sirius like the same height or around the same height as fucking Peter, when canonically in the books Harry describes Sirius’s appearance as really tall and really hot, lmfao that’s about it. (Bless our bisexual king!😌😌😌)😌 And we won’t even touch how when folks make him like tiny they also just bring along this vaguely uncomfortable characterization of him being super feminized and such, but I’m a cis woman, and even if I’m pan I don’t have the right to talk on that. But chow anyways…

Height Difference Headcanons!! 

(If I repeat anything that anyone else has said please clock me so I can give proper credit!)

Okay like first off, I remember reading something by the gloriously talented @goodboylupin about Remus and Lily occasionally sharing tops and I absolutely love it! Because I think they’re both probably built pretty lithe, and I raise her HC  that there is a pair of leggings that neither of them knows actually who exactly bought them, but they steal it from one another constantly and fight over it so savagely  becs damn it makes their asses look like a bubble butt dream! 

Plot twist, the leggings originally belonged to James for him to practice quidditch during the autumn but like he does not want to get into that hassle RIP

And on this same vein! Imagine Remus borrowing Sirius’s like favorite Velvet Underground or Lead Zeppelin shirt that he got from his first Muggle concert that Remus took him on for his fifteenth birthday, sneaking him out Hogwarts when they were still only just friends! And imagine Sirius’s thirsty ass when they finally get their own place after school and Remus is just puttering around the apartment in that and his pants and nothing else, and sometimes it kind of slips to show a good amount of collarbone because Sirius Black was a beater damn it! And just they never get anything done before noon tbh flkasdjglhasodgi

I also HC Remus and James being like the same height, so about 5’10 compared to Sirius’s 6/1, so they each get fucking irritated when Sirius hides things on a particularly heigh shelf just to be a bastard, and like Peter is just sitting their, fully exasperated because his short ass has mastered the levitation charm to grab things out of his reach since he was like twelve. (JFC a single braincell between these pricks when they’re together!)

I know this doesn’t necessarily have to do with height, but sometimes I think of Remus being badgered by James to fill in for their seeker for their match against Slytherin because their typical one  is out with dragon pocks, and his little, agile ass breaks a record for quickest win!!!

Okay picture that this is a happy AU without Voldy and Sirius, drunk off his arse, insisting to carry Remus bridal style through the threshold of their flat after James and Lily’s wedding! And like somehow that leads to their own proposal because they are fucking dorks!!!

Okay also  imagine when Sirius is having like a rough night thinking about his family, (which I have very, very specific headcanons about) and Remus being the big spoon for a change, which is just him curling around Sirius like a fucking koala bear bahahaha 

Okay this is weird becs I is a short fuck myself, but I can’t think of anything else to add rn, but YES YES YES! Tall Sirius rights! Bahahaha

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist~ ~Send Me A Prompt/Chat With Me💜🥺

[starkeristheendgame]

hey!! im really sorry to bother but i really love your writing & saw that you were taking prompts!! i was wondering if you could do one where tony has a sort of kink for calling peter ‘kid’ in a way, if your comfortable of course! sorry if my English isn’t the best!

I’m so sorry that this got buried to the bottom of my inbox! I hope you’re still around and that you get to see this, and I’m so sorry again that it drowned! I hope you enjoy it and I can only apologise if you hate it 😂

Also; please, please don’t ever apologise for your verbal or lingual ability. Learning another language is hard, and English is noted as one of (if not the most) hardest languages to learn. Being bi/multi-lingual is something to be insanely proud of!

I hope you don’t mind, but all of my prompts recently have been in canon universe, so this is a neighbours AU with no powers. In which Tony is a rich ex-businessman who just wants to tinker on old cars in his (not) retirement and Peter is the high school kid that won’t leave him alone.

TW: ‘Kid’ kink (the term) | Underage character | Underage (SS&C) sex | Daddy kink

Someone had bought the house next to his over the half-term. Peter knew this because the sale sign went down and the garden was immediately de-turfed and a notice was posted through everyone’s door on Wayforest Road that ‘minor construction’ would begun within the next two weeks, from 8am to 5pm daily, save for Saturdays and Sundays.

Peter wanted to laugh in - and then punch - the face of whoever decided to term it minor. Abruptly on the following Monday, almost a full half-hour before his alarm was due to go off, Peter was awoken by deep, loud voices and the clanging of scaffolding poles as the workmen arrived.

Groaning did nothing. Neither did flopping about pathetically on his bed like a beached fish. Burrowing under his duvet and his pillow was also a lost cause; he’d left his window open to keep his room cool in the night.

Seething, Peter flung himself from bed, turned off his alarm, and hopped in the shower. The workmen were gone when he came back, but the house was now a big, ugly grey thing besides his own, and he paused on the sidewalk to eye it mulishly. “If you’re another crabby old man; I’m not helping you walk your groceries up to your porch” he announced loudly to the empty house, and scuttled away to the safety of his own home after being eyed balefully and judgmentally by Mrs. Witkin’s cat.

At the dinner table, the new house and its new occupants were all Aunt May seemed to want to talk about, despite the way Peter’s face resembled less of his usual ‘ :) ‘ and more of a ‘ -.- ‘ as she went on, guessing the features of their new neighbour animatedly around mouthfuls of mashed potato.

Tuesday morning found him jolting awake to a shout of “Jim! Jim! For fuck’s sake, Jim, get tha’ fuckin’ plank!” In a thick, overly loud Irish accent.

By Friday, Peter was ready to forgo just a punch to the face, and was willing to commit all out, planned murder. At somewhere around seven-am every morning that week, the workmen had woken him up with their clanging and their shouting and their existing. Friday evening he stomped around the corner with a glower, fingers tight around his backpack straps. Not even Mrs. Witkin’s mean old cat could deter him from scowling at the house the entire way to his door.

Town rumours be damned; that cat was just old and judgemental, like half the residents there. It was no trapped old lady or cursed young Prince.

Hopefully.

Peter crossed himself on his porch quickly just in case. It could never hurt to be a little superstitious. Especially not after the day that Mr. Herald proclaimed himself immortal and was then promptly wiped out by the tree in his yard collapsing.

By the following Monday, Peter caved and stayed at Ned’s for the night, for the first time in his entire life thankful to hear the music of his alarm and not a series of clangs or yells. It was even good enough that Ned’s snoring didn’t disturb him as much as it usually did. He felt chipper, refreshed. Right up until he turned the corner and found his street lined with vans, the workmen a little late finishing.

The next two months were cesspit of noise and strange men and sleepless days off. Apparently the person who had bought the house must’ve only liked the area and nothing about the house at all, because by week three, all that remained of it was the bare skeleton, gutted and stripped and ugly. But Peter was willing to concede that his new neighbour had good taste.

By the end of the second month the house had been entirely re-built, and Peter was convinced that his new neighbour was some very famous or important person looking for a secret hideaway, or a mob boss. There was no other logical explanation. What had once been a decent but generic detached property with a neglected garden was now a mini-mansion of sorts, all soft creams and light earth tones, with a stonewall front and staggered steps that led onto a half-gravel and half-grass front yard.

Large paned windows were already lined with thick curtains and plants and a sweeping gravel-scape led to a large garage, that seemed to be the most work of the renovation. It was huge, probably taking up over half of what used to be side garden and dead grass. No fence bordered the property, but the difference between Peter’s space and the new person’s space was immaculate and definitive.

“Huh” he mused aloud, blinking. Suddenly, he was less irritated at all those lost half-hours and more curious about who was going to be living there. They had money, for sure. Inheritance? Insurance claim payout? Illegal happenings? Aunt May’s two joking theories were suddenly looking less of a joke and more genuine possibilities.

As it would happen, Peter wouldn’t actually find out for another three or so months. The man moved in on a Saturday, quietly and with a small fleet of sleek SUV vehicles and fancy moving vans. Peter enjoyed a lazy morning, napping until the start of the afternoon and basking in the summer warmth, stretching in front of his bedroom window and looking down in time to see the last of the delivery and moving people packing down their vehicles.

Peter eyed all the bodies curiously, but it soon became clear none of them were his new neighbour, because they all stood around, flipping through paperwork, and then promptly left. Peter lingered under the pretence of dusting at his window ledge, but the street was quiet and empty.

Aunt May was anything but quiet when he finally dragged himself downstairs in search of food. “Peter! Morning, honey. Did you see the vans outside? Very fancy. Big enough for bodies, too, though” May hummed, flipping through the book she was currently reading.

Thirty Ways To Revive Your Youth.

Peter grimaced, and begun to rummage through the cupboards. “Not to question your intelligence, but. Why would a mob boss carry around his victims? Like a few teeth or knuckles ought to serve as good souvenirs. I don’t think carting around whole bodies is practical” Peter pointed out, settling on fruity oatmeal. Aunt May paused in her reading, nose twitching to adjust her glasses as she considered it.

“Hm. Point. Unless they bought the house because they run out of burial room, and these are fairly recent bodies they need the new soil for” she pointed out, and Peter pointed his spoon at her as he passed.

“Point” he agreed.

And so the weeks passed, but the mystery remained. No matter what time Peter tired to linger, or how early he awoke, his neighbour never seemed to be around. Here and there he would catch a figure roaming past the windows, kinda like a ghost, but never a clear view or a face. It was vastly disappointing, but his interest didn’t wane over the months that spanned between his rueful lack of sleep and now.

Now being a hazy Saturday morning, warm but not overly stuffy. Peter was coming back from a morning at Ned’s wherein they’d been steadily chewing away at the LEGO Galactic Supership. He was halfway down the street when a large trailer vehicle begun to drift down the street steadily, heading straight in Peter’s direction.

He paused on the sidewalk, watching it with interest. It was a transportation vehicle, and as it drew closer Peter could see there was a car on the back of it, heavily clamped down and chained to make sure it wouldn’t roll off. The vehicle passed him by some, and he got a clear view of the other car. It looked old, a little broken, rusted. Huge, though. Bigger than all the cars he’d seen before.

It pulled up right outside his neighbours house. Sensing an opportunity, and genuinely curious, Peter lingered, taking a few steps across the sidewalk to eye the car. It was a glossy red, though it had sun fade and was patchy. The chrome was glossy in places and dull, rusted in others. One headlight was missing.

The door of the cab opened, and Peter turned on his heel to see the driver getting out. The friendly greeting died on his lips as toned, thick thighs slid from the cab, followed by trim hips and a long, solid torso only half-hidden under a tank-shirt and overshirt. Broad shoulders prefaced the hottest man that Peter had ever laid eyes on.

He had a shaped jaw that was cut by stubble in a unique style that Peter had never seen anyone wearing before. He had sharp cheeks and dark, deep eyes with long lashes, tanned but not exactly browned and dark, dark hair with the barest flecks of grey at the roots, at his temples.

The man seemed surprised to find him there, pausing mid-way through pushing the door shut and peering around the street before looking back at him. One shaped brow lifted, and Peter stumbled to remember his manners, thrusting out a hand.

“Hi, Mister. Sorry - I was looking at the car. Is it for the new house?” He asked, forcing himself not to blush under the intense gaze. After a brief pause, the man took his hand, palm large and slightly rough, grip firm. He was even more attractive up close, slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes, dark lips and the strong scent of motor oil and grease.

“Would seem that way”.

And Ho-ly voice. Deep and with the softest of rumbles, soothing like a thunderstorm in the far distance. Peter clutched at his jacket when their hands dropped, coughing politely to hide whatever facial expression he’d pulled. The man strode past him and to the car, beginning to work on the many safety straps and chains.

“Did they…Is this theirs?” Peter asked after watching him quietly for several moments with a gesture towards the house besides them. Peter had discovered the house had a second parking bay on the other side, where a glossy black muscle car from the 60′s never seemed to move.

“Theirs’?” The man echoed, pausing in his movements to look up at Peter with curious amusement. It occurred to him then that it was likely some random car recovery guy had seen his new neighbour(s) before he had.

“Uh…Well. I’ve never actually seen them. So I don’t know if its one person, or a whole family, or…” Peter trailed off meekly, looking over his shoulder at the building. It looked as empty as it always did, no lights on and no figures moving behind the windows.

“Townsfolk say its some celebrity having a breakdown. Others say its some old widow using her husband’s life insurance. Even heard from someone that its a mafia lord, settling down in the middle of some quiet ass nowhere town” the recovery man grunted, hauling on a thick, heavy chain. Peter flushed.

Yeah. He was…Guilty of some pretty crazy guesses. But come on. Someone buys a house, spends upwards of hundreds of thousands doing it over, and then…Nothing. No new faces at the grocery store. Never seen, or even heard. Like a ghost.

“They’re not big fans of being…Seen. I guess? I mean, I know a guy with groceries comes around every Monday. Sometimes multiple times a week, but he always puts them in the garage and leaves. And this town is full of judgemental old people - Half of whom probably have mercury poisoning or something. There’s gonna be some pretty wild speculations going around” he pointed out, moving closer to look at what appeared to be a scratch in the paintwork.

The car gave a faint creak as the man released all of the holds on this side, snorting as he rounded the back of the vehicle and went to the other side with a loud, amused snort. Peter followed, and stifled a gasp at the sight of the other car. The man turned, eyeing him for a moment, before nodding.

“Got T-boned by an estate car. But she’s a tough old thing. Heavy metals and good steel; not like today’s cars. She came out better off” he mumbled as he worked on a thick strap, carefully taking apart the various clasps and buckles. Peter approached the car carefully, stretching up on his toes to brush his fingertips over the warped metal. He felt almost….Sad for the car.

He traced the flaking paint and the twisted, dented metal tenderly, and when he pulled away, the man was watching him again, movements slowed as he pulled the material through the metal. “Is this their car? What good is it now if its all broken up?” He asked curiously.

The man ducked his head, moving onto another thick chain. “Its just the one guy. I guess its a…Hobby. Of his. Bought her yesterday at a scrap lot”. He seemed uncomfortable saying it, but to Peter it was like gold trust. One guy. Huh. A big old house like that? That seemed rather lonely. Maybe it really was some rich old person retiring, enjoying a quiet place and a mechanics hobby.

Peter was going to ask more, but the car was freed with a grinding sound, and the man gestured him carefully back with his hand, holding it out in front of Peter to walk him back like a horse, to a safe distance. The man used two remotes to bring the car to the ground, Peter watching in fascination as rotors and rolling mechanisms moved it backwards and onto the tarmac of the road.

“How do you plan on moving it now?” Peter asked, and immediately regretted it as the man shed his over-shirt. Biceps. Shoulders. Forearms. His throat went dry and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

As it turns out, the plan was simply ‘push’. Peter scoffed, but was soon at a loss to anything but stare as the man leaned heavily against the trunk of the car, muscles bulging in the afternoon sun. Heavy or not, the car soon begun to roll, and after a moment Peter dropped his backpack and came up besides the straining man, leaning all his might against the metal.

It probably did fuck all, but the man gave him a wry grin all the same, chest heaving with deep, controlled breaths as they moved the car across the flat ground and onto the side-drive space. Peter’s shoulder ached and his arms and thighs suddenly felt like jelly, but the man slapped him across the back.

“Good effort, kid” and then moved away, heading towards the front door. Peter gaped as the man simply grasped the doorhandle and pushed the door open, and floundered on the drive. “Wait! You’re just gonna walk into his house?” He called, and the man paused mid-step, looking back at him.

“Well. I ought to just ‘walk in’. Its my house”. And with a lewd, perfect wink he was gone. Peter wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself, flailing on the driveway with error logs flashing behind his eyes. That was his neighbour. His neighbour was some rich, late-thirty something hot-hot-hot guy who fixed broken classic cars.

“Oh my god” Peter muttered, stomping down the driveway to get his bags. Four months. He’d lived next to this Playgirl model for four months.

He decided against telling Aunt May. It felt selfish, but it also felt good to know he was the only person to have seen him. Even though he realised not long after reaching his room that he hadn’t even gotten his name. Peter waited by his window for hours, but saw neither hair nor hide of the man again. By morning, the transport truck was gone and the cherry red car was presumably inside the garage.

The damned guy was magic. There was no other explanation. Fuelled, Peter spent the Sunday morning in the kitchen, furiously baking with narrowed eyes and a plan. The muffins were done by mid-day, and Peter iced them carefully before boxing them, and stomping across the sidewalk to his neighbour’s house.

Peter knocked, and waited. Knocked again. Waited. “If you don’t answer the door then I’m just going to sit here” he announced loudly, knocking again before plopping down onto the porch just to prove a point. Several long minutes passed before his neighbour appeared around the corner, from the garage judging by the grease steaks up his arms, scowling.

“Kid. Here’s a life tip; if someone doesn’t answer the door, its because they don’t want company” the man huffed, but his eyes zeroed in on the box with intense curiosity, and Peter shrugged, smug.

“You came out, though” he pointed out, pushing himself to his feet. The man scoffed, but allowed him to follow, leading the way around the building where a small side-door was open.

“I came out about thirty years ago, kiddo. If that’s a congratulations cake, you’re a little late”. Peter tripped over the gravel, fighting his legs to remain upright and his stomach did a weird knot inside him. Oh. Not only was his neighbour hot, but he was at the least male inclined, too.

Very interesting.

“Actually, these are just welcome muffins. Chocolate and orange” Peter murmured, stepping inside the garage. It was bigger than it seemed, and the cherry red car stood in the centre, sanded down and clearly being worked on already.

“Peter, by the way. Peter Parker” he added after a pause, and almost offered his hand for a second time, but settled instead on thrusting the muffin box at the man. He raised a brow, but delved inside to pull one out, clearly eager at the prospect.

“Tony” he offered simply, and Peter tested it on his tongue, enjoying the shape. For now; he’d let the lack of a last name go. Good things in time, after-all. Choosing to invite himself to stay, Peter perched primly on top of the edge of the workbench, electing another raised brow, but Tony’s mouth was too full of muffin to object.

Tony begun to work as he ate, and Peter sat in content silence, watching as Tony and his bulging arm muscles took each wheel off the car and begun to strip it of all its chrome features. Peter checked his phone after a while and was surprised to find that around four hours had passed. May would be home from her sewing group about now. He ought to head home.

“I’ll be back tomorrow” he announced, and jumped at the same time Tony did, the man smacking his arm off warped metal with a shout. Tony whirled on him, eyes wide, gaze flicking between him and the door, before he looked…Confused.

“You’re still here?” He asked, and Peter snorted as he dusted off his pants, heading for the door with a shake of his head. May came home shortly after he did, and Peter supposed he ought to let her know that he’d be visiting Tony again tomorrow.

“So he’s not a mafia boss? Or a celebrity?” She asked around a mouthful of roasted chicken, looking rather disappointed as Peter shrugged and shook his head.

“He just seems…Aloof? I don’t know. Maybe he’s some business tycoon or something. But he seems nice. I’m just going over to help him with this car he’s got. It’s real nice, too” Peter hummed, and Aunt May narrowed her eyes at him.

“Are you sure? I mean, you don’t know him. He’s a stranger. Albeit a hot one, apparently. And you have school tomorrow, too. You shouldn’t be hanging around strangers. Unless…If he happens to be single…I’d be open to his number” May shrugged after a pause, and Peter blinked.

May was surprisingly easy to placate, and he assured her that if she wanted to, she could march right over to Tony and give him a Mother Hen Talk after dinner, but she decided against that, and in favour of a hot bath. School on Monday rolled around quicker than Peter could say ‘garage’ and he decided against telling Ned about Tony.

He wanted Tony all to himself. At least…For as long as he could. It was strange, but he found his heart thumping as he marched down Tony’s driveway and up to the garage door this time, knocking on it loudly. He’d brought lemonade and sandwiches this time.

The garage door opened, and Tony looked equally as startled to see Peter there as he had the day prior, gaze raking his body before frowning, and stepping aside with a sigh. “You’re like a mosquito, kid. I came here to get away from people” Tony announced pointedly, and Peter founded on him with an unimpressed gaze and an arched brow of his own.

“If you truly wanted to get away from people, you’d have moved out in the mountains or something. Now, get back to work. In an hour you can stop for supper. I brought chicken sandwiches” he ordered, taking his seat from the day before and pulling his calculus homework from his bag.

He kept his gaze down as Toy stared at him, mouth opening and closing several times, before he went for his wrench, muttering to himself as he lay down on a wheeled bench and rolled under the car. Peter smiled quietly into his papers. A little over two hours later - he lost count, sue him - Peter pushed himself to his feet and strode over to the car, kicking Tony lightly in the ankle that stuck out.

“We can eat now” he announced, walking back over to his pack and taking out the tupperware he’d packed this morning. He could hear the sound of the wheels moving, and he turned, holding out the box. Tony looked perplexed, but approached and took it, still looking puzzled even as he bit into his own portion.

“Not that the pattern of snacks isn’t appreciated, kid, but…Why are you here?” he asked after he’d swallowed, and Peter actually had to think about it, flushing as his mind conjured up inappropriate responses like ‘I want to lick your arms’ and ‘You look like the hot mechanics in my pornos’.

He settled on a shrug, chewing slowly for more time. “You’re interesting. You’re my neighbour. You’re not a mafia boss or a broken down celebrity” he pointed out. Tony twitched on the last one, but gave a hum and moved away, scarfing down the last of his sandwich and returning to the car. This time, when Peter informed him he was leaving and would be back tomorrow again, Tony neither jumped nor looked surprised.

It became a pattern. Three out of seven days a week, Peter would sit in the garage with his homework or revision and Tony would work on the red car, which Peter came to learn was a 1958 Plymouth Fury. “Just like in Christine” Tony had huffed proudly, and had then been quickly appalled when Peter had simply stared blankly.

That night, Peter had watched the movie, and his next visit was spent talking animatedly about it with Tony, discussing their favourite parts and what it might be like if it was ever re-made. After a month, Aunt May picked her way across the gravel to finally meet the man her adopted son kept disappearing off to be with, and Peter had the unfortunate experience of watching them flirt together, Tony in a cheeky, smooth, outrageous manner and Aunt May like a school-girl. When he begun to gag in the corner, Tony threw an oil rag at him.

One day, a week before the summer holidays, Peter rounded the corner to find Tony stood on the porch, looking angry and tense and talking to a tall woman with red hair, tied up in a ponytail. Peter stopped and lingered, unsure of what to do. Besides him and May, he’d never seen anyone else talking to Tony. Even the grocery delivery guy simply put the bags in the garage and left.

After a while, the woman turned away, looking sullen and displeased, and slipped into a sleek black SUV, pulling off with a screech of her tires and the rev of her engine. By the time Peter reached the house, Tony was back inside, and he knocked quietly, leaning closer to the door.

Tony didn’t answer.

“Mr. Tony? I’m not sure what happened, but…If you’re not up for hanging out today, its cool. I brought soup, but I’ll leave yours on the porch. It might be hot, so…Be careful”. Peter stooped and left the thermos close to the door, before leaving. He felt uncomfortable for the rest of the day, longed to go see Tony, but everything in his gut told him to let him be for a time.

Whoever that man had been, he was clearly someone Tony didn’t like or want around.

Almost a whole week passed in which Tony didn’t answer the door, and by the Saturday, the first official day of the summer holidays, Peter was moping. Not to anyone that asked, but it was clear to even Ned that he’d been a little down lately, declining a celebratory LEGO fest in exchange for slinking up to his room.

No sooner had he toed off his shoes, the doorbell rung. Peter groaned, turning on his heel and abandoning his sweater on the staircase. It was probably another of Aunt May’s Amazon orders. Since she’d discovered the wonders of online shopping, Peter had learned their regular post-man was named Greg, he had two kids and a poodle, and was allergic to shrimp.

“What has she bought this ti- Tony?” Peter paused mid-sentence, eyes widening at the sight on his doorstep. Tony looked rough, dark circles under his eyes, his face looking more lined than before, but he gave a weak smile up at Peter, still stiff and unsure.

“Hey, kiddo. Figured you might…I made spaghetti. And I still have your thermos. Was gonna work on the car a bit”.

Peter recognised it for the attempted invitation that it was, and didn’t bother to fight off his broad grin. “Lucky for you, I love spaghetti. I just gotta grab a sweater on” he beamed, practically flinging himself up the stairs. Tony’s spaghetti was amazing, with some kind of pink-ish sauce, little chunks of shrimp and prawns, all tangy and sweet.

He even let Peter help with the car. Or…Well. He let Peter hold the torch. And the wrench. But still.

He was still grinning when he skipped home that evening, and when he crawled into bed his dreams were filled with oil-stained arms and a low, rumbling voice. He gasped awake in the early hours, cock hard and leaning against his hip, Tony’s voice echoing in his skull.

He shouldn’t.

He bit his lip and reached down, whimpering as he wrapped a hand around himself. He was too hard to last more than a few minutes, stifling his yell of “Tony!” Into his pillow as he came. When he arrived at Tony’s house later in the day, he could barely look the man in the eyes, flustered and shy.

The holidays continued in a similar fashion. They hung out almost every day in the garage, often for an entire day. Peter felt guilty about abandoning Ned, but looking at Tony’s broad smile, listening to his quips, watching his abs flex under his shirts as he lifted things...It was worth it.

By the fourth week of his holidays, after numerous days of lounging together with takeout and Tony helping him with his homework, Peter piped up.

“Peter”.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Peter” he repeated, nudging Tony gently where they lay together on the floor of the garage, staring up at the underside of the car. It was almost complete. Something to do with the clutch, and then all it needed was new paint. “You keep calling me ‘kid’. So. Y’know. In case you’d forgotten” he hummed.

Besides him Tony stilled, only briefly, before relaxing and swatting at him. “You are a kid, though”.

“I’m sixteen. I’m not a kid” Peter huffed, rolling onto his side and kneeing Tony in the thigh. Tony let his head loll, looking across at him with dark, dark eyes, and Peter’s breath hitched. Tony was close enough to kiss. And god, Peter wanted to kiss him. Had spent the past few weeks staring at his body, his mouth when he talked, waking up at night hard and aching.

Peter let his gaze drop, to plush lips outlined by dark stubble, and then he pushed himself up, momentarily hovering over Tony as he got his legs beneath him. “And you’re an old man” he tried, teasing, tugging at a lock of hair at Tony’s temple.

For the briefest, briefest of moments, Tony’s gaze went even darker. Hungrier. Peter thought about it in the shower that night, two fingers stuffed inside himself with too-little prep, mewling against the shower tiles. Almost as if…

He begun to get bolder. Touched Tony more. Stood closer. Any excuse to be in his space. If Tony noticed he said nothing, only giving lingering, unreadable looks and only ever turning away with a poorly hidden smirk whenever Peter said anything just a little too obvious.

On the last week of his holidays, Peter was kneeling half over Tony, dabbing gingerly at a slice on his bicep while the man clutched an ice-pack to his knee. The cherry red car was out, and an old, 1957 Chrysler Saratoga was in. And apparently, angry.

“Kid, seriously. I’m fine” Tony huffed, swatting at him as he dabbed away another crust of blood, peering at the wound. It wasn’t that deep, but it had bled something fierce. Peter lifted his gaze, scowling at him.

“I’m not a kid!” He snarked, pressed a little too hard on the wound just because he could. Watched Tony flinch under his touch and instantly felt guilty. He pulled away the cloth and ducked down, pressed a kiss to the wound before he could ever think about it. Aunt May had always done it for him, kissing his ouchies better. He froze, lips against jagged skin.

“Kid” Tony rasped, looking down at him with wide, dark eyes. Peter jerked backwards, and huffed.

“Keep calling me kid, I’m gonna start calling you ‘old man’“ he scowled. He was about to say ‘Or worse, Dad’, but…That was a bumpy road and he wasn’t ready to loose whatever he had built with Tony. Not yet. The older man snorted back at him, eyes rolling, and reached out, fingers closing around his jaw gently to shake his head a little.

“Look at you. You are. That little baby face. And you’re so small, like a cat. All slender. Couldn’t even lift up the gearbox. All big eyes and too must trust. I could’ve been an old pervert or sex criminal and you just walked right up to me and wouldn’t leave” Tony murmured, voice half-gone and gaze fixed on where he held Peter’s jaw.

“Wouldn’t - Did not” Peter managed, though he was already getting hard, his breathing was already a little shorter. Sharper. Tony gave a deep breath, fingers flexing against his jaw.

“You’re just a kid. A little baby. All soft-cheeked and gentle. You’re a kid now and you’ll be a kid for a long time. Nothing like me”.

And. Huh.

Peter blinked, jaw still clasped in Tony’s grip, and he relaxed his body, inching a little closer. “What is it about that, then? Why is that such a bad thing?”

“Its not. Its not bad. I’m just…I’m the bad one. Christ. Kid. You’re - You sit here doing homework. You don’t even have facial hair yet. I bet you haven’t even popped a stiffy before”. The words startled Tony as much as Peter, both visibly jolting, and Tony immediately looked like he wanted to die.

“Hey! Not true! Every night this holiday I’ve done more than ‘pop a stiffy’ over y-”. Peter bit down on his tongue, hard, watched the way Tony’s eyes widened. Fuck. They both jerked backwards, equally as taken aback by the revelation. There was no doubt as to what Peter had been about to say. Now way he could laugh it off or change it; though the subject was bad enough.

“I…”

“Kid…”

Peter huffed, leaning back on his haunches and dropping the cloth. “What, you got a kink for the word or something, Mister Tony?” Peter grumbled, but he could see Tony physically tense up opposite him, and he looked up, watched the almost shameful way that Tony turned his gaze away.

It hit him.

“You…Do” he huffed numbly.

“Its not…Christ. Peter. I’m not a…I’m not attracted to kids. I don’t know what it is. I just…Fuck. Maybe you should be calling me an old pervert. Fuck. I…Peter. You have to believe I don’t..I’ve never touched a kid. Never. My youngest partner was twenty when I was thirty. She was a hooker in Dubai and…Wait. You’re a fucking kid. I shouldn’t be talking about hookers and swearing and-”

Peter clamped a hand over Tony’s mouth, shaking his head. Jesus. He knew it was true, though. Tony was a recluse and laughably inept at anything social, but he wasn’t some scorned kiddie-toucher banished to a quaint little town.

“I know, Tony. I know. And I believe you. But if its not that, then…What is it?”. Tony only blinked at him slowly, for several beats, and it was then that Peter realised that his hand was on Tony’s mouth, and the man couldn’t speak. Though he could well have moved it himself. He let it drop, flushing.

“I don’t know” Tony croaked helplessly, and he looked so small, so lost. It was instinct that had Peter leaning forwards, gathering Tony in a tight embrace. The older man stiffened, but then relaxed, hand hesitantly falling to Peter’s side, featherlight like he was scared to touch him.

“Its…You’re so delicate. So…Untouched. Like a painting. Pretty. You shouldn’t be touched. Not yet. Not by me. But I want to”. It made Peter’s spine tingle and arch, letting out a surprised breath against the curve of Tony’s jaw. Tony made him sound like the Mona Lisa or something.

“I’m not a good person, Peter. I’m…All these months, you don’t even know my last name. Half the town thinks I’m a murderer or some kind of lunatic. But I’m worse than that”. Tony practically breathed it into his shoulder, head falling. Peter clutched at him, suddenly scared. Worse than those things?

“Tony Stark”.

Peter paused. Was silent for such a long time that Tony tensed against him again, before he begun to pet gently at Tony’s shoulders. “…Who? I mean, the name is vaguely familiar. But…Who?”

Tony pulled away, leaned back, looking up at him with glossy eyes and a ludicrous expression. “Stark. Tony Stark”.

Peter raised a brow. “Bond, James Bond?”

“What? No. The weapons company? Stark Industries?” Tony asked after a pause, like it was information Peter ought to know. After another pause of his mind being ridiculously blank, Peter sat upright, head tilting.

“Oh! Yeah. Stark Industries. But…What about it?”

Tony blinked at him, slowly, like there was a punchline he’d missed, and then he was reaching out, crushing Peter to his chest to the boy fell half over him with a yelp, squeezing him gently.

“You’re - Unbelievable. Never change, kid. I’m…I did bad things. I killed people. Carried on the family name despite spending my life trying to outrun it. I…I was betrayed. So I fixed it, and I left. And I was supposed to keep my hands off anything good. Anyone good. And here you are”.

“Okay. Firstly? You gotta stop calling me ‘kid’ now I know its a kink and you don’t intend to do anything about it. Secondly…I don’t know what you did. Or what happened. But I know what you’ve been since you got here. Who you’ve become. And I think you’re a good man” he breathed, adjusting so he was no longer straining, half-straddling Tony.

“You shouldn’t…” Tony didn’t finish the sentence, and there were a million things he could’ve said. But Peter chose to ignore them all, squirming his way closer until he really was sat in Tony’s lap. And this was more than they’d ever done.

More than the one-armed hugs and lingering touches, more than leaning shoulder-to-shoulder eating noodles. More than Peter listing against Tony’s side in the early morning hours, maths homework forgotten on the bench and Tony sitting still, so still, so as not to wake him.

“I’m old enough to know ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’, Mr. Stark. Besides. This is just…Hugging. Right? Innocent” he hummed, even as he deliberately shifted on Tony’s lap, a little heavier than he ought to, spread his legs wider around Tony’s hips.

“Ki- Peter” Tony huffed against him, fingers tightening around the hem of his sweater. It wasn’t until Peter shifted again that he realised; Tony was hard. Well. Getting there, but hard enough for Peter to recognise it. To feel it, digging into the round meat of his asscheek.

“I don’t touch kids” Tony repeated, and Peter snorted softly, shaking his head as he gripped at Tony’s broad shoulders, muscle honed by years of hard work. Muscle that led up to rough stubble, a sharp jaw that Peter nosed at.

“Good thing I’m not actually a kid then, Mr. Stark. That means you can touch”.

Tony surged forwards on a growl, lay Peter out like a feast on the garage floor; but still hovered over him. Reluctant. Uncertain. Peter lifted his legs, wrapped them around Tony’s waist, tight and steady. “Kiddo…”

“Mm. Your kiddo. Or I could be. If you kissed me” Peter grinned, breathless and bold with the sweet taste of Tony so close. Mere inches. “Kiss me” Peter repeated, and Tony growled as he surged downwards.

When Tony came, it was with ‘kid’ sharp and electric on his tongue. And…Well. Peter felt a little mollified, so naturally, it led to round two, pressing Tony down against the concrete, milking him for all he was worth as a broken ‘Peter!’ cracked on his tongue like a prayer.

The rounds after that were just…Well.

Purely selfish.

[soapsilly]

The Saviors of the Galaxy - Guardians of the Galaxy Imagine

Pairings: Guardian x Reader; Platonic!Rocket x Platonic!Reader

Summary/Request:   Soooo I wanted to ask about a guardiens of the galaxy one. The reader tries to steal something from the ship and the guardiens catch her. They kind of adopt her into their team and the reader becomes really good friends with rocket and together they built all this crazy stuff and mock peter and so on.

And remember: Requests are open!

This one really took a lot longer than the other ones I feel like but it’s been a few busy weeks for me.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Shit!” The Guardians were awoken by loud cursing followed by the sounds of rattling metal. In just a matter of seconds the intruder was sourrounded by Gamora, Drax, Rocket and Peter Quill, every one of them with some type of weapon. 

“Who are you? What are you doing on our ship?”, Gamora asked firmly with her weapon aimed perfectly at the girl’s nose. 

“Who cares who she is? She shouldn’t be here!” Rocket shouted, excited to try out his newest invention.

“Wow. You’re the Saviors of the Galaxy. If I had known who’s ship I was robbing I would’ve brought my pen and paper”, the girl seemed genuinely surprised but not intimidated.

“Guardians. Were the Guardians of- nevermind. How did you not know what ship you were robbing? We’re superstars!” for the moment Peter didn’t care that the girl was trying to steal from his ship, how didn’t she know him?

“Well, do you know what spaceship Nova Prime flies privately?” she answered his question with another question. The girl wandered off, unbothered by the weapons that were still aimed at her, looking at the multitude of bits and pieces that littered the floor. 

“I mean who lives like that? This ship is a mess”, she murmured.

“Hello?! We’re still here!” Peter exclaimed, confused and a little irritated that the intruder was completely unbothered and insulting his home.

Gamora lowered her weapon, realizing that the girl didn’t care anyways. 

“Who are you and what were you looking for?” she asked her.

“My name is (Y/N) and I was trying to find something useful. Nothing in particular. Ravager ships usually have all kinds of interesting stuff on them. By the way no need for you to introduce yourselfs. I know you”, she explained.

“Here we have Gamora, of course. Then there is Drax the Destroyer, nice nipples”, she sent him a wink, “here’s Mantis, Rocket and Groot. And lastly Star-Prince”

“Lord!” Peter exclaimed. 

“Are you sure? Isn’t a prince kinda better than a lord? Why would you go for Star-Lord if you could go by Star-King even?”

Before Peter could start arguing with her more, Rocket interjected “I like that one, Quill. She’s got a point. Can we keep her?”

“Yes, I’m sensing a really positive aura from her”, Mantis agreed. 

“I am Groot”

“Indeed! She seems like a highly competent young lady”, Drax agreed.

And before Peter could argue with them, (Y/N) interrupted him “Alrighty then, we’re can I leave my stuff?”

*******************************************************************************************

It’s been a few weeks since (Y/N) joined the Guardians. She knew exactly how to interact with every single member, as all of them have a distinctive character. But she and Rocket hit it off immediately. They bonded over their love for tinkering and building new stuff - extra points if that stuff happens to be explosive. 

“Nonono, this doesn’t belong there. That goes over here!” Rocket groaned “what do you even know?”

“I know what I’m doing! Just trust me”, the girl shunned him. 

Rocket threw his hands up and watched her with no further interruption but muttered something inaudible under his breath every now and then, which (Y/N) just kept ignoring.

After she connected a last wire, the device started glowing blue and a humming sound emitted from withing it.

Rocket turned towards the device with a surprised expression.

“Told you so..” the girl told her friend.

“So whomever we shoot with this baby will completely lose their sense of balance? No way to walk a straight line?” he inquired.

“Now listen. This thing has only enough energy for three uses, so we can not use this carelessly.” she explained.

“Wanna shoot Quill?”

“Definitely.”

*******************************************************************************************

“I don’t get it. Where are we even going?” (Y/N) asked.

“Would you be quiet? We’re trying to break into this facility and free the animals they’re doing illegal testing on, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t bust us before this mission has even begun”, Peter hissed.

“Yeah, genius and just walking up to the front door would not achieve exactly that?”

The Guardians stopped in their tracks and turned towards her.

“What do you mean?” Gamora asker the girl further.

“Well, there’s a back entrance? The security guards only come by there every twenty or so minutes because you’d have to get through a swamp to get there. Most people wouldn’t bother. The door opens via numeral code that changes every day but I got a device for that”, the girl shrugged.

“How do you even know all that?” Quill was getting irritated.

“I’ve been here before”, she explained.

They stood in silence for a few seconds until all of the Guardians started to bicker.

“What the heck Quill?” Rocket shouted.

“Okay okay okayokay OKAY!” Peter shouted, “if (Y/N) knows best why doesn’t she lead the way then?”

“Quill, don’t shout. You just told (Y/N) to be quiet as to not bust the mission”, Drax informed a lost looking Peter, with Mantis nodding eagerly.

*******************************************************************************************“I don’t know, Gamora.  Who is she? Where is she coming from? We basically know nothing about her but still we just let her stay with us. And besides... she doesn’t like me” Peter complained to his girlfriend.

“Peter, of course she likes you.  Maybe you’re just a little jealous? I mean she gets along great with everybody - especially with Rocket”

“Yeah, that’s another thing! We don’t need another Rocket! That’s madness” Peter exclaimed.

“I think she’s calming him a little bit. I think-”

Gamora was interrupted by a loud explosion sound which was followed by a ‘are you kidding me’ look from Peter.

A coughing and soot covered (Y/N) entered the room. Rocket followed her, one of his left whiskers still smoking.

“Hey Pete? We might need to get a new temperature calibrator”, (Y/N) sheepishly informs him.

“You see what I mean?!” Peter turned to Gamora and pointed at them with his two arms fully stretched out.

*******************************************************************************************To get the replacement and to stock up on groceries they had to make a pit stop on Knowhere.

When they arrived the Guardians were instantly swarmed by the people on the street. Eventhough Knowhere was not considered the most friendly of all places, the group had fans all over the Galaxy.

(Y/N) sort of just trailed behind and watched how everybody pooled around their ‘favourite’, with the children generally being drawn to Groot and Rocket - much to Rocket’s dismay.

Groot was creating and handing out little daisies, Peter was playing around with the kids and Mantis was just over all happy with the friendlyness.

Gamora, Rocket and Drax, however seemed slightly overwhelmed with the newly gained attention.

(Y/N) stood by and watched her new friends with a smile. She really liked every single one of them. They were all outcasts of some type so it really felt good to have a place where she felt like she belonged to.

While she was occupied with her thoughts a little girl tugged on her shirt.

“Excuse me? Are you also a Guardian of the Galaxy?” the girl asked with big eyes.

(Y/N) smiled at the girl and crouched down to answer, “No I’m not, but I am friends with them. Would you like me to introduce you to them? I’m sure Groot has a little flower for you”

As the two of them started to make their way over to the group of people a guy was calling over to them.

“Don’t go over there! They aren’t even worth it. Just a bunch of wannabe heroes that are actually just no good criminal scum!”

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks and told the little girl to wait for a minute. Then she turned towards the guy that was snickering and still trash talking the Guardians with his friend group.

“Oi! What the heck did you just say? That criminal scum, as you’ve just called them, saved the freaking galaxy from Ronan, which includes your sorry ass too. So if I were you I’d shut my fucking mouth before I come over there and make you shut up, jackass. Every single one of them is more of a hero than you’ll ever be”, she hollered at the group.

“And who the fuck do you think you are? You little-” the man started to get angry and marched over to her.

But before he could even finished his sentence Star-Lord himself stood next to her with his hand already placed over his gun, in case he’d need it.

“Who she thinks she is? She’s part of the Guardians of that Galaxy and she’s right you are indeed a jackass”, he told the man firmly but sent (Y/N) a reassuring wink.

The other Guardians were making their way over to them aswell.

“Yeah, we’re the Guardians and we don’t like anybody insulting our friends. And this one” - Rocket pointed to (Y/N) - “I am especially fond of, so I’d recommend you get outta here before something bad happens”

As Rocket was about to pull out his gun, Peter reminded him that they didn’t want a fight if not necessary. Rocket groaned because the dude did deserve it but put away his gun nonetheless.

The Guardians were just about to turn away when Groot decided that the guy really did deserve it and extended one of his branches and swung it at his feet, knocking him straight on his ass.

When the man regained his footing he scrambled to flee the scene, while the Guardians all just looked at Groot, who just slowly made his way back to where he was before, “I am Groot”.

“So he’s allowed to do it but I’m not?” Rocket asked.

*******************************************************************************************

Epilogue

“Sooooo I’m a Guardian of the Galaxy or what?” (Y/N) got out of the group hug and asked Peter with a suggestive grin.

[rudistroebel-blog]

◊ ♫ ◊— look what the cat dragged in! that’s RUDOLF ‘RUDI’ STROEBEL and HE/HIM are an around 24-year-old CASUAL VISITOR to the store, but they’ve been in the neighborhood for A YEAR AND A HALF. I think they are an APP DEVELOPER and I overheard them listening to DON’T WANNA FIGHT by ALABAMA SHAKES, and, I dunno man, it seemed pretty fitting. Like, call me shallow but I look at them and think of BEN ROSENFIELD and MESSY CURLS, FREQUENT PHONE CALLS HOME, AN EASY GOING SMILE THAT NEVER FADES. (ooc info: bean, she/her, EST, 24)

Name: Rudolf Stroebel

Nicknames: Rudi

DOB: Feb 22, a Pisces.

Age: 24

Gender/Pronouns: Cismale and he/his.

Occupation: App Developer at an unnamed startup, side hustles include working on his own app and odd jobs here and there

Hometown: Milton, Delaware

Jakob and Clara Stroebel (Americanized from the original Ströbel) settled in Delaware in their twenties, leaving behind their birthplace of Hamburg Germany, determined to make their own fortunes. They struggled with the language, the culture, and fought for years to gain respect from the locals in the suburb they chose to inhabit. Jakob built up a reputation as a naturopathic doctor, and Clara taught German after school, and they both strived to raise their young son into someone that mirrored them both internally as well as externally.

While they may have preached the value of hard work, it’s a lesson that Rudi only half heard. He excels in little beyond disappointment. His grades were always lacking, he wasn’t gifted athletically, he had no interest in his father’s work and even though it’s the language spoken at home, his German is clumsy and imperfect. He managed to get through his teen years by sliding by, relying on a quick quip and some natural charisma to ensure he could at least graduate high school on time. People tend to like Rudi, which only enables him further.

He did a year at a local community college before dropping out— he taught himself coding through YouTube videos and computer science classes taught on Windows95 felt like a massive waste of time. The truth is, he told his mother he dropped out by choice, bad attendance and incomplete assignments had him flunking out shortly after the first semester.

Rudi’s success came as a surprise, an idea he’d jokingly come up with while drinking with some friends at a bar was thrown around, and like many things, he never expected anyone to take it seriously at all. As he passed out comfortably in his bed, tucked under the hand made quilt his mother lovingly crafted, he never could’ve seen what the next week would bring.

He put the app together based on the simple idea on a Monday, and was launching the beta by the Saturday, churning it out into an overnight success. The whole thing turned out to be profitable, with thousands of downloads lining their pockets with cash. Within the next few months, he’d accidentally become a whiz kid entropnenur with enough money to move out of his family home and avoid seeking a real career for the foreseeable future.

Flush with cash, the next reasonable move was to move to the big city. He sold the app to a tech giant and got himself an apartment in Manhattan. For the first few months, everything was gravy. He had an interview with Google lined up that he assumed he’d ace, and from there he’d be living the good life until the end of time! Unfortunately, the interview didn’t pan out the way he’d hoped and now without a Plan B and without the skills to live like an adult, Rudi blew through the cash within 6 months of his initial move.

He’s too embarrassed to go back home— his parents have finally started to believe in him and disappointing them again would be killer. Priced out of Manhattan he made several moves over the last year deeper and deeper into Brooklyn. Now he shares a basement apartment with a guy named Jonathon who air dries his socks on the radiator.

Rudi’s making changes! He got a job with a startup, so the pay isn’t great but most of his work can be done at home, leaving him with tons of time to occupy coffee shops and take long walks through the city he loves. He’s also working on actually getting a college degree. He’s secretly studying to retake the SAT so he can get into a decent school. Steve Jobbing it through life apparently works best if you’re actually Steve Jobs.

Used to an easy life, Rudi’s incapable of looking after himself properly, and his new found independence is being treated like an endless kegger. He likes a good time with great friends, and he doesn’t see anything wrong with that. He’s sweet, with his heart in the right place, but with his new found fortune he’s just been granted another faucet to allow him to live a Peter Pan existence. It’s this sort of youthful optimism that keeps him charming. Perhaps it’s not untrue that children become funny when they have nothing else to market themselves as, as his wry words and surprisingly observational comments often remind people around that there is more to Rudi than just being a party animal, even if he himself doesn’t see it.

In general, he’s a good kid. He’s a good friend and helpful— kinda has a Mid-West attitude without being from the Mid-West. Easily taken advantage of and oblivious to a lot of what’s going on around him, but he’s! Good!

H E A D  C A N O N S

I. His vision has never been anywhere close to stellar. From his very early days, Rudi’s been the kid with glasses– something that swapped over to contacts as soon as he was old enough to be trusted putting plastic in his eye. He refuses to wear glasses, though towards the end of long nights he’s almost always seen cranky and irritated in smoky and crowded spaces, rubbing his slowly reddening eyes.

II. He’s been blessed with a wild mess of thick curly hair, of which no one is quite sure whom he got it from, or what to do with. His parents were flaxen haired beauties without a follicle out of place and every family picture features their son with enough wax on his head to look like a shoe shine commercial. These days he’s found it just easier to slap a beanie over his head than to try to tame his wild locks, considering it his signature look.

III. He’s been the victim of several pyramid schemes, some that he still doesn’t know about.

IV. Rudi suffers from what he refers to as ‘the tricky A’s.’ Asthma, allergies, anxiety and a touch of anemia.

[spidercakes]

Starker for 002 in the ask thing if you wouldn't mind dear author 💜 -StarkerBrain3000

002 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

when of if I started shipping it.

Hard to pinpoint. I saw it probably just after Civil War for the first time, thought ‘hmm’ and then watched the massive backlash to it appear. Never paid much attention to it, though, mostly because starker didn’t sit in any of my inner circle of blogs I follow at the time, so most of it was peripheral and given the weird amount of hate Tony’s character got I already only followed hella select blogs in the MCU fandom.

I got way more into the ship about 3 months ago though. Went on a reading binge and then made this blog. I’m not sure why it happened to be when it was, but I’m already established as a fic writer elsewhere and felt a bit burnt out. This pairing has been like a nice vacation because I like producing content for it and this is a surprisingly interactive fandom? The most interactive I’ve ever dealt with anyway.

my thoughts:

Good lord people on this site take shipping and fiction in general way too seriously. Don’t get me wrong, I live and breath social justice- I have a gender studies degree- its a big part of my life. But antis seem to fundamentally misunderstand how fiction affects reality and how reality affects fiction. They remind me a lot of anti porn feminists in the 70′s claiming that porn made men violent towards women when that’s A- not definitively proven even now and B- you don’t watch an hour long porn flick and become a misogynist, you were already misogynistic and then the porn reaffirmed your shitty values, and the shitty treatment of women in the porn was because misogyny already existed in mainstream culture and was thus included in the porn. Which is generally how fiction affecting reality works- something preexisting in the culture is reinforced by mainstream media and then reabsorbed by the audience, which is why people can watch slashers without you know, turning into one.

And the fact that antis remind me of that particular group of feminists doesn’t leave me with a high opinion of them really. They lack a lot of critical thinking skills, don’t even seem to understand how fan fiction works also, and they also keep redefining the definition of pedophilia for... fuck knows what reason because it sure shit isn’t to help victims of actual CSA. They’re irritating at best and absolute hypocrites at worst- like who the hell says ‘save the children, kill yourself’ and thinks that’s actually acceptable?

As for the ship itself I’ve always preferred AUs, and this pairing is no exception though I’d never actually write it in canon. Canon sideways maybe, but it’d have to be pretty sideways for me to consider it. Plus I find it more fun to make my own sandbox to play in rather than the writers of the MCU’s box. I’ve already seen them in that setting, I want to play with them in new settings lol. That said I’ve not written much of this pairing before so its all new stuff and this particular fandom offers new tropes to play around with! That’s what had me most excited walking into the fandom, the way people toyed with the characters.

What makes me happy about them:

The unique dynamic they have- I’ve always been drawn to characters who have an interesting dynamic. Plus Tony Stark is one of my fav characters in anything anyway and I ship him with almost everyone (minus Pepper, no hate to Pepper!). I figure that’s why this ship came about too- Tony is interesting and well drawn out as a character, and I loved Tom Holland’s Spidey. He’s the best who’s had the character in my opinion so pairing them together was probably something inevitable. Other than that I like the way the fandom toys with their characters- not always in character, but still a lot of fun to read and imagine!

What makes me sad about them:

Well, half of them are dead, so...

things done in fanfic that annoys me:

Good god, daddy kink. Its not even that I find it annoying, its just that its a hell of a squick for me so its difficult to find something that doesn’t include that and surprise daddy kink is not where I’m at as a person. Granted most people warn for it, which I’m grateful for, but it does permeate the fandom in a way that makes it a pain in the ass to find something I want. And honestly that’s really only it, and its more of a personal preference (seriously, no hate to anyone who likes that- you’re clearly all in good company lol, its just not for me) than an actual annoyance.

things I look for in fanfic:

I’m really picky about how I like Tony written. I’ve been writing the character for years now and fell into my own habits with him, though I do get pretty consistent compliments on how I write him so I’ll assume I do an okay job. But the result is that I have a hard time when people write him in ways I don’t like or wouldn’t write myself. Sometimes its just random squicks that pop up in a story, or sometimes I outright dislike the way he’s written. That said I do find that the starker fandom does the things I hate with Tony’s characterization in fic much less. 

This, I think, is primarily due to the fact that he’s made the more dominant one in the relationship always (and people treating top/bottom like its a fucking dominance thing is something that annoys me in general mostly because its built on the misogynistic idea that being penetrated is being dominated but also because sex positions aren’t a fucking personality trait but I digress). As per my previous rant I don’t care for the idea of the ‘top’ being the dominating one based on that alone, but I do like that people writing Tony in that way reduces the amount of Wuss Tony fics in the fandom. Actually, I don’t think I’ve read a single one like that. Its my Number One I Hate That in other MCU pairings, making Tony some weak little waif in need of protecting. Though I gotta admit I don’t care for Peter in that position either- clearly he’s capable and able, please don’t turn him into the wuss. Bonus points if everyone thinks he’s soft but then oh no he’s actually dangerous shit lmao.

Still though, my pickiness over how the character is written can sometimes hinder my ability to enjoy a fic.

My kinks:

Bro finding an entire fandom who likes feminizing dudes if fucking mint. I have my issues with the term, but I do feel men get the ass end of the stick when it comes to aesthetics and the easiest solution is to stick them in aesthetically pleasing shit and if that’s women’s clothing and lingerie so be it lmao. I also like the kind of gender bending that goes on in that too, I find it subversive in a way that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud if I want to swing it that way, or flat out more pleasing to imagine. Seriously, men’s clothing is boring as fuck so skirts? I’m here for it. Though I wish there was more fem!Tony stuff in the starker fandom- its actually something I write a lot of when I write him in other pairings (particularly winteriron).

Other than that I’m a big fan of anything sensation play related. So ice play, things fucking about with heat, sometimes electric play stuff, taking away someone’s senses (blind folds, bondage, blocking out hearing in some way- that type of thing). Things like feathers are nice too. I’m also fond of gags, preference for ball gags or impromptu cleave gags. Theoretically soft dom stuff though I will never understand why bondage is considered not terribly kinky. I know a lot of people are into it but the idea of trusting someone enough to tie me up and actually listen if I decide I want out of it? I have too many trust issues to relate lmao. But it does make for a good bit of fiction as I’m sure some of you have noticed in my writing (given that I do love to write some kinky stuff). If you want something sex related specifically for whatever reason public sex gets my goat, not sure why because if I were a random passerby I’d be pretty fucking annoyed at the people in the bathroom but hey, whatever floats your boat on the page, right lmao.

I’ve thought about some more extreme things too, knife play and toying with things like fear being two of those things. But I’d have to have the right opportunity and context to work them in.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

Well, Tony is dead so. I would have preferred him with literally anyone but Pepper though. He literally had more romantic chemistry with Rhodey (who I do incidentally ship him with). But the MCU is  bunch of cowards so clearly they would never end up together. But they’d make a better pairing than him and Pepper, in my opinion.

Peter I’m fine with him being with MJ, I like them together on screen and I really like her character. If not her than Ned would also be a good pairing for him!

My happily ever after for them:

Well we gunna have to unkill some people but that’s what fanfic is for, right? Beyond that because I prefer AUs so much their happily ever after will depend entirely upon what universe I’ve imagined up for them :)

[sroloc--elbisivni]

It’s been three months since my dad died.

I think about him every day. Never in the same way twice. Sometimes it’s like last night, where I started remembering the way he grinned and the way he made salmon and how much I miss him and start crying into my pillow. Sometimes it’s like today, where I feel numb and dull and empty until I realize it’s been a quarter of a year and I’m not going to do anything for the rest of my life but get further and further away from him, and the person I was when I knew him. And then I start crying on a plywood platform thirty feet off the ground at work.

I’ve been working a lot this week. This whole semester, really. I’ve wanted to be busy. I’ve wanted to not think about things. And I hate it, because I know that thinking about him is one of the only ways he’ll get fully remembered, and I’m too afraid of getting lost in missing him, and I need to move on and be in the world and I don’t always want to.

But the further away I get, the more I lose. So let me tell you about my dad.

‘You’ being, the general world I guess. You don’t need to read this. I just need to say it. Pretend I can shout at the world “A GOOD MAN IS DEAD” and have it matter.

My dad was born in Grand Forks, North Dakota, and he had the state in his bones—one time I needed to know what city for paperwork, and I texted him to ask if it was Fargo, and he said “No, the other big eastern city.” He understood blizzards and thunderstorms and dressing for the cold, and he taught them to my brother and me even though we were growing up in coastal California, where only one of those happened, and then rarely.

He was brilliant. If you want to know anything about my dad, it was that he was brilliant, and he was kind, and he was loving. He also had several small strokes at the end of his life that meant he didn’t remember or retain things well, and that he got more irritable, and reclusive, and locked into routine. We didn’t know about the smaller strokes until a month before the one that would kill him. Just that he was getting more distant.

My dad was prickly at the oddest times, and he had a temper, and he hated telemarketers, and bad drivers. He lashed out when he got mad and got sulky when you lashed back. He could snipe, and pick at things you didn’t even realize you were sore about, and didn’t know how to listen to a problem without trying to fix it.

He was good at fixing problems. He would take apart a toaster to fish out a burnt piece of bread, and study up on the riding lawnmower engine and go at the engine over and over again, and learned like he breathed. He wanted to write a book about learning, about the way we think and how it actually works, and what thinking is and what learning is and therefore what teaching should be. He believed that learning was just patterns of action. He and my mother literally wrote a book on how to teach in a way that built things up, rather than trying to pick at people’s behavior until they did what you wanted.

My dad was a teacher. He was a wonderful teacher. He taught me how to ride a bike, and drive a car, even when I was yelling at him, and he taught me how mean, median, and mode worked for a third grade science project. He helped talk me through algebra, and fractions, and division. He tried to teach me editing, but that went badly, because I was fourteen and had decided I knew what was best, and he never knew how to let things he cared about go.

He was a teacher for all of his adult life, even though he only ended up in the teacher’s program at his college because he took the RA’s keys after the RA left them lying around and he thought that was irresponsible, and the authority in charge of his punishment was his mother’s friend and also the Dean of Education. He stayed in the education program at the University of North Dakota for the next several years, helped found the school’s first no-hazing fraternity, found a skull with some friends at an archaeological dig site and held onto it for a couple years, went nocturnal for a while, and wrote his dissertation on the way we learn and the history of education. He talked about cave paintings, as early human abstract thought, but he didn’t get to see them until last year, when we went to France. My brother and I had to make sure he didn’t fall, as we went down into the cave, because it was rough and sloping and he was unsteady on feet he couldn’t quite feel anymore.

My dad had diabetes. My dad loved food. By the end of his life, he had lost feeling almost all the way to his knees, and insulin was taking up more room in our fridge than the eggs and milk put together. He was a great believer in the power of ice cream, as a special treat or just to hide in the fridge for when you wanted a taste. His favorite food that I baked was chocolate chip cookies. I made them with his mom’s recipe. Every time i was baking, he’d walk by and try to steal a piece. He stole popcorn every time we made some, too. Called it a ‘popcorn tax’. He used food as a love language, which made it awkward every time you ended up stopping on the way home for dinner without him, on a night he was cooking. He loved going out to eat, and would always talk to the waiter. He would always talk to anyone, really. More than the rest of us would like. My brother and i would always complain that he didn’t have to tell people our whole story, that they didn’t care. But he cared, and sometimes strangers did too, and sometimes they became friends.

My dad loved having friends. He loved knowing people, and talking to them, and learning from them and teaching them. He loved people, but had the misfortune of marrying an introvert and fathering two more. He was the popular kid in high school, on the football team and the newspaper. It was a Catholic high school—he was a Catholic until college, and then he started asking a lot of questions and never really went back. But he remembered all the theory, and all the questions, and all the things they tried to answer, and he could tell you about them if you wanted to know. My mom remembers when he met her aunt for the first time, a former nun, and they spent a good hour debating the finer points of something she couldn’t understand and barely remembered about the Holy Stations. He was good at that, at making you feel in every conversation that he was looking right at you, and interested in what he saw.

He got his doctorate in education, moved to Colorado, learned to ski, learned to parallel park—at 38, something I never failed to bring up when he was trying to teach me to drive—got married, became a step-father, started a charter school, had a wonderful couple of years teaching things the way he felt people would learn them, worked a paper route to try and keep it going, closed the school, dressed his stepkids up as Jawas for Halloween, got divorced—not necessarily in that order. I wish I’d asked my dad more about this part of his life. All I have are unconnected stories. Eventually he went back to North Dakota, and met my mom, and they spent the rest of his life together as “itinerant academics,” trading off who found a job at another university when they wanted to move. They got married at a courthouse two days before Christmas, because my dad needed health insurance and Mercury was going into retrograde. They had a kid in St. Paul and another in Tacoma. They were progressive educators, at a time when that wasn’t a comfortable thing to be in the Northern Midwest, and they made the giraffe their mascot because they kept ‘sticking their necks out’. I didn’t really appreciate that my parents were rebels against a system until I found out that in his first year of teaching, my dad and his friend had adjoining classrooms, and they came in with sledgehammers one weekend and knocked down the wall so they could have a big open classroom.

I found that out at his funeral. So many people my parents know are scattered all over the country, which is great for road trips and hard for gathering. They sent stories instead.

My dad played the guitar, and he sang in his first year of college—at a Catholic school choir, before he transferred, and the Beach Boys on the bus. He loved the Grateful Dead, and Jimmy Buffet, and the Eagles, and Peter Paul and Mary, and the Kingston Trio, and Bob Dylan, and he loved singing along in the car and dancing along in the kitchen, shuffle-step bouncing to the beat. He wore a sweatshirt with the logo of the elementary school my brother and I went to for fifteen years at least, from the time I was in kindergarten to the time he died. I remember it getting covered with cat hair, after the cat followed us on a walk to school too far to turn around and take her home, so he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. She shed in terror. He used to carry the little half size cello I started learning on to school and back, every Wednesday and Friday, on his back making jokes about being a Sherpa.

My dad liked jokes. My dad liked to laugh. He loved comic strips, and insisted that my brother and I be allowed to read as many as we wanted. Probably the reason he and I got so very good at reading. I would recite Calvin and Hobbes and Garfield and Baby Blues to him, retelling what I remembered and hoping he’d laugh at the punchline. I’d show him things I found on the Internet when I got older, still trying and trying to make him laugh. I was less and less successful over time.

He was excited about the new Star Wars movies. I remember him telling me from his computer in his office, showing me the article. I remember going to the midnight showing of Episode VII, but not VIII—he couldn’t stay up that late. We saw Rogue One with my uncle, weeks after it came out. My dad was always the one who took us to movies as a kid. He liked stories. He liked to have fun. He liked Terry Pratchett and Robert B Parker novels and books about how the universe worked that took him months to finish. He had a brother, a younger brother, and lost him months after he lost his dad, years after he lost his mom. He saved things from them—the couch he grew up with, half a dozen chairs, boxes and boxes of books and records, a flag on the wall, a breakfront with china in it, all kinds of other keepsakes. My dad liked things. liked to save things. Liked to remember people—and he had a good memory. Up until the end.  I came out to him about my gender six times, because he just couldn’t retain it when I told him. and every single time, he was supportive, and careful, and kind, even when he didn’t understand.

He loved our dog so much. He would make her food just so, with kibble and wet food and bacon grease all mixed together and heated in the microwave just so she’d like it. He used to take her on walks, every single day, and took her everywhere in the car with him. They walked on the beach a lot. My dad loved the beach, probably because he lived so far away from it until he was 51. I was born when he was 52.

My dad worried a lot about math education. how people get traumatized by math, and when they become teachers and parents, they pass on that learning math is hard. He worked for UC Berkeley for years, running a program to give engineering students the skills to become teachers. He ran a summer camp in Emeryville for STEM for high schoolers. Or…middle schoolers? I don’t remember anymore. He made these math models, abaci and blocks that showed ones and twos and tens and how numbers fit together into bigger numbers, and then he painted them all the colors of the rainbow so they wouldn’t be scary. So they’d be toys, something fun and beautiful and clever.

There are so many more things, about what a full and beautiful and complicated human he was that I can’t pull to mind or don’t have the words for, but I need you to know he was more than everything I’ve managed to pour here. 

He wasn’t perfect, but he was the best dad I could have had. He was smart enough to answer all the questions I asked him, and he gave wonderful hugs, and he loved with a heart as big and open as the prairie sky. And I miss him, so, so, much, and it hurts to think of how I’ve been missing him for a long time, as little pieces of him broke off and drifted away when we weren’t noticing.

His name was George W. Gagnon, Junior. People called him ’Sandy’ as a kid to keep him distinct from his dad, because he had blonde hair as a baby. When I was little, it was dark, dark brown on the sides and circling the bald top. In the beginning of July it was a snowy white.

He’s my dad, and he’s gone, and I’ve spent the past three months knowing that I’m never going to go home again, not really. And knowing that ‘family’ is too big and whole a word to fill with what we have left.

I can’t cry in front of other people anymore. And I don’t want to talk about how I’m feeling, or what the world is like now. I just want people to know.

A good man is dead. He loved, and was loved, and laughed, and learned, and ate good food and made bad jokes. And even after writing all of that—I still miss him, and he’s still gone.

[timeisacephalopod]

Playlist

I figured I’d write more of the YouTube AU with Peter/Stephen/Tony. Honestly, I should do some kind of other AU with them but for now we discuss Peter’s playlists lol.

“Wong has abandoned me,” Stephen says dramatically. Tony and Peter don’t even react because Wong would never abandon Stephen but he seems to think they should be a lot more invested. “Did you two not hear me?” he asks and Peter bites the bullet, sighing.

“We heard you, but we think you’re being dramatic,” he says. How nice of him to take one for the team like that.

Given how offended Stephen looks he’s probably going to regret that. “You think being upset about being abandoned is dramatics?” he asks in a haughty tone.

“Considering you decided Tony being on a business trip and me sleeping was you being abandoned, yeah,” Peter tells him.

Tony probably shouldn’t risk laughing but that’s too good not to laugh at.

*

“I love when people know shit-”

“Yes, me too but it happens so rarely,” Stephen says, cutting Peter off.

Peter sighs. “As I was saying I love when people know shit about the development of a project because this random person tweeted ‘the best thing about going to see Consuming Fire is that you know at one point it was a monster fucking movie’ and that’s hilarious,” he says.

God, yeah. And Peter fought about it for awhile too, which resulted in him nearly getting fired twice until Stephen had made a casual comment about making one of the characters a musician. With an in like that Peter had had a much less difficult time writing something that wasn’t total garbage, even if it was straight people. Then came the fight to cast Kamala and mini Peter in the roles, which resulted in a bunch more rewrites, but the interest generated from his casting choices alone seemed to appease pissy studios and audiences alike so.

“Imagine if Kamala was the fish man from The Shape of Water,” Stephen says, shaking his head. “Absolutely awful. Unpopular opinion, that movie was awful,” he adds.

“You have no taste,” Peter tells him.

“I thought the fish man was romantic,” Tony says and Stephen wrinkles his nose.

“White people are monster fuckers,” he mumbles. “Something went wrong in Europe.”

Peter starts laughing and Tony sighs, “dude, Sam dresses up as a furry on a regular basis. This isn’t just a caucasian problem- every race of human is into some weird shit.”

Stephen shakes his head, “Sam is an exception and should not be counted and when did he decide he was a furry?” he asks, frowning.

“Dude dresses up like a bird all the time,” Peter points out. “Calls his alter ego Falcon and he doesn’t even fucking dress up as a falcon.”

“He should dress up as a great tit,” Tony says and Stephen looks like his soul has died a little.

“We’re not talking about furries or monster fuckers anymore. We’re talking about Peter’s strange ability to make a playlist for every possible situation,” Stephen says. “Shall we go through the stranger ones?”

He pulls Peter’s phone out of his pocket and Tony snatches it, scrolling through the absurd amount of playlists. “Oh here’s one. ‘That feeling you get when you fuck at three a.m but actually you want to die.’ I don’t know what that means.”

Stephen pulls the phone back and starts scrolling. “Oh lovely- ‘for when you’re in Medicine Hat, Canada and the Tim Hortons is being held up.’ Are these built on personal experience?” he asks, squinting.

Tony takes the phone back and scrolls a little before sighing. “Seriously? ‘The feeling you get when you look at Tony Stark’s ass’? Is that a real thing?”

Stephen takes the phone back and laughs, “it was made three years before he met you,” he says. “That’s funnier.”

Peter snatches his phone. “I don’t even know how you two got that,” he mumbles. “And by the way- okay you know what, I will give you ‘Frankenstein vore playlist’ because I don’t even know what that means,” he says.

Stephen pulls a list from his pocket, “I’ve made a list of the strangest playlists though I did manage to somehow miss that one,” he says, wrinkling his nose at Peter. Tony leans over to look at the list and snorts at what he finds there. Honestly only Peter would have a playlist dedicated to making egg salad in someone else’s kitchen while you rob them.

“You have an ‘evacuate the building in case of fire’ playlist. No one will be listening to these, they’ll be exiting the damn building,” Tony says.

“Wedding in a classroom in rural Alaska- why is that a playlist?” Stephen asks.

“You went with that over ‘tickle my ass with a feather’ playlist?” Tony asks, giving Stephen a judgmental look.

“That one’s for Rocket,” Peter says, giving them more information than they wanted, Tony is sure.

“Got my ass kicked by a ballerina with teeth for a face- what? What does that mean, Peter?” Tony asks, baffled.

“What’s on the tin- it literally says it all in the title.”

Stephen rubs his temple and sighs. “Accidentally laughed at a funeral?” he asks.

Peter shrugs, “its been known to happen.” Even Stephen, the most cold hearted person Tony knows, clearly thinks that’s a dick move.

“Got caught in a government scandal?” Tony asks. “You don’t even understand politics.”

“Its worse because he has political opinions,” Stephen mumbles.

“Oh like that makes me any different than politicians,” Peter says and just because he’s right doesn't mean he should be.

“CIA mind control playlist?” Stephen asks.

“Are we going to read these all day, I feel like we’ve got better content than this,” Peter says.

Stephen squints at his list, “workplace serial killer playlist? I get work place shooter because that happens. I get disgruntled employee because that happens. I get serial killer because those are a thing. But in what world does a person have a problem with a work place serial killer?” he asks in a haughty tone.

“Well when you say it like that it sounds ridiculous,” Peter mumbles.

He gets a look from Stephen for that, “it sounded ridiculous the whole time. Like your damn monster fucking romcom.”

“It could have worked, we have vampire shows,” Peter points out.

Tony rolls his eyes, “that’s not monster fucking, that’s a cop out. You better be fucking something only vaguely human looking or you’re a pussy.”

“Structurally speaking female genitalia is the superior design, I don’t know why we use those as an insult. We should be calling people gonads on account of the poor design choices evolution made there. Or backs. The spine is basically a pixie stick holding up your meat sack- its an insult to biological architecture,” he says like that’s a phrase anyone but him has thought up.

Peter starts laughing and Tony decides to call it a day because there’s no coming back from that.

*

“So people have been writing meta on why our dynamic is so watchable,” Peter says, “and I honestly never thought I’d hear the phrase ‘Tony Stark is the straight man’ but here we are.”

Tony frowns, “I’m bisexual,” he says. How is it possible to fuck two whole assed dudes and still end up being called straight? Though there are those conspiracies about him being brainwashed and held captive because that’s the gay agenda these days, he guesses.

Stephen lets out a long sigh but Peter explains. “Its not a sexuality thing, its a comedy thing. There are the nutty characters and then the normal one who grounds them all- the straight man. You’re the one who grounds me and Stephen,” he says.

Tony squints, “cite your sources,” he tells Peter. Pepper is the straight man normally. Rhodey, he might be straight man passing if he didn’t always go along with Tony’s dumb plans. Pepper though, she lives and breathes common sense and forces him and Rhodey to also live and breathe common sense. Tony can’t imagine how he’s the straight man.

Peter nods, “yeah, so normally that’s not what the fuck you’d be on account of being a quirky billionaire genius who casually blows shit up on such a regular basis that its normal to you. But you hang out with a man who once faked a haunting to get rid of a roommate, casually refers to his coworkers killing people and how it inconveniences him because of hour cutbacks, and is sometimes actually magical. Couple that with your other partner in crime, me, who got into a several months long fight with a studio over whether or not I can make a monster fucking movie because I can’t write straight people, who got famous after writing a sci-fi musical space opera about his daddy issues, has a playlist for being murdered by sheep, and literally has a friend named ‘Rocket Racoon’ and your shit is no longer weird. You are the straight man only because the two people you’re with are so weird that your weird no longer looks weird in comparison,” Peter says.

They all sit on that for a long moment before Tony crosses his arms and glares straight ahead. “I don’t want to be the straight man,” he mumbles.

Stephen pulls a handkerchief seemingly out of nowhere and throws it at him. “Go cry me a river,” he says.

He picks up the handkerchief and frowns. “This is monogramed. And where wee you hiding it?”

*

Wong scrolls through the comments nodding to himself. “My favorite thing about these videos is my strange but adorable cult following,” he says.

Yeah, Wong is kind of a series regular but people have grown to like him with a surprising amount of enthusiasm. Stephen, however, looks irritated with this. “They have poor taste,” he mumbles.

Peter pets his head, earning a dirty look for his efforts. “Don’t worry, only about half the audience hates you now,” he chirps in an overly cheerful tone.

“Half the audience needs standards,” Wong murmurs, taking a sip of Stephen’s coffee.

Stephen pulls his cup back, “yes, half the audience needs to grow up and come to the conclusion that I’m far superior to Peter,” he says. “And on par with Tony, I suppose,” he adds.

Wong takes the coffee back, “that wasn’t that half of the audience I was referring to, Stephen, and we both know that. And Peter is superior to you on account of having a personality that isn’t the equivalent of sand paper on the senses.”

“I have a playlist for that too,” Peter says, grinning.

Tony rolls his eyes, “you have a playlist for drowning in quicksand in the middle of a forest on a planet in another solar system. We fucking know you have a playlist for it,” he says.

“Have a playlist for when your irritating best friend all but forces you to pick up his questionable boxers in the morning and you feel a little bit of your soul slip into another dimension?” Wong asks and Peter frowns.

“I uh... no, I don’t,” he says, looking lost and confused.

[missyslittlepet]

*Requested - Reader wears high tech glasses due to their poor vision and one day they break. Rocket offers to fix them but takes his time because he wants a way to get closer to them.* It normally would have taken him about three days, he did have a reputation for being good with tech after all. He watched silently as you staggered across the room, hands out slightly to avoid walking into anything. The sight was comical. Like something from one of those... what was it Peter called them? Martoons? Cartroons? Rocket couldn't quite remember and made a mental note to ask Peter later. You had been that way ever since you had your glasses smashed by some thug on knowhere. The Guardians had been treating themselves to a few drinks to celebrate their triumph against Ronan. It wasn't everyday they saved the galaxy after all. It had been your round and the line had been long so when a guy pushed in front of you just as you were about to order... Well let's just say you weren't all that pleased about it. Now, to say that this guy was built like a brick shithouse would have been an insulting understatement. After dealing with bullying due to your vision all your life you had grown tough and confident. You were through with people treating you like nothing so you probably weren't thinking when you placed the barrel of your gun against the guys back. "I think I was here first pal. Move along or I'll shoot." You had always wondered what it would be like to fly. However, as you flew through the air after being flung by the brute and the bar wall came closer into view, you couldn't help thinking it wasn't as fun as you had first hoped. The contact with the wall was swift and left you crumpled on the floor like a discarded rag doll. Rocket had been the first one out of his chair. Shots were fired and he managed to chase the guy out of the bar. The whole place seemed uninterested by the scene, completely numbed to it after the amount of times these kinds of things occurred. You were thankful for that at least because your face was red with embarrassment. Drax offered his large hand to help you up. Rocket watched this and scampered over quickly. "Nah, I got her, I got her!" Rocket shouted over the noise or the bar waving Drax away. Drax raised an eyebrow and backed away. Rocket instead offered you his small clawed hand and pulled you up into a sitting position. He studied you carefully and noticed a slight cut just below your eye where some smashed glass had caught your skin. "Ya alright?" He asked. You sighed heavily. "I'm fine..." You couldn't help seeing the cracked glass and glitching software dance across your vision, making Rocket look out of focus and distorted. You remove them from your face and glance down at them. Your blurred eyesight made you grimace and Rocket realised taking the glasses from you. They were brilliantly designed. Infrared technology, target locking software, facial recognition and very, very expensive to replace. Rocket turned them in his hands and chewed the inside of his cheek in thought. "I'll fix 'em, it will take a while but I'll get 'em working again." Rocket knew it was easy. Brilliantly made they were... for someone on Xander that was. He had developed bombs more complex that those glasses. Not that he'd tell you that. With a smile, you had thanked him and allowed him to guide you back to the Milano. What you didn't realise was there was perks to you not seeing clearly... Not for you, of course, but most definitely for Rocket. You see, with your vision impaired it allowed Rocket to watch you without fear of being seen himself. He was good at hiding behind a veil of satire meaning he had grown good at masking his true emotions as tolerance or annoyance. When no one was watching, however, he was free to allow some of his feelings to slip through the cracks. He felt the tell tale tug on his lips letting him know he was in fact smiling to himself again. He had been taxed with looking after you until your glasses were fixed. Peter thought it would be a good incentive for him to fix them sooner. Oh, how wrong he was. Rocket laughed lightly at the thought. It had been two weeks now and Rocket was still yet to actually take a good look at the true extent of the damage caused to them. If he was being completely honest with himself; he enjoyed the fact that he now spent all of his time with you. With out the loss of your glasses you really had no need for his help. "You know, if you're just going to laugh at me I'd rather you just left." You mumbled under your breath. Two weeks of feeling useless was really starting to take its tole. You had become irritable from having to rely on Rocket because as far as you knew Rocket was hating every moment. The last thing you wanted was who you considered your closest friend to start to resent you. Rocket never had been the type to help people without making a fuss about it first. Rocket's smile faded. "(F/n), I ain't laughing at ya." He said quickly, ears twitching as he spoke. "Oh, yes you are. Everyone is." You threw yourself down on what you hoped was a chair. Luckily, it was. "Ain't nobody laughing at ya. What makes ya think that?" His ears had flattened slightly, any trace of his smile completely gone. You scoffed. "What makes me think that? I'm completely useless without my glasses. And now you need to baby sit me. I know you hate this Rocket. Just go, it's my stupid fault for picking a fight with a guy that could quite literally throw me across the room. You shouldn't have to deal with me. I'm going to buy some new glasses as soon as we land. If done relying on everyone." Rocket felt a stab of guilt enter his body. He hadn't realised you had been feeling that way. "Nah, don't spend all of those units. I'll get 'em fixed by tomorrow. I promise." "Rocket it's been two weeks, I've stolen far too much of your time already. This isn't fair on you. You have more important things to be working on." A second stab. "...(f/n), I haven't started looking at 'em yet." Rocket admitted. He paused waiting for you to shout at him. You remained silent and waited for an explanation. Rocket took the hint and continued. "I just want an excuse to spend time with ya. 'M sorry. I understand ya just wanted ya glasses back, It was selfish of me." "...You never needed an excuse Rocket. I'm annoyed don't think I'm not but... that's kind of sweet..." You smiled in his general direction. "...yeah?" He mumbled, the smile reappearing. He made his way towards you and gently placed his hand on your arm. "Yeah." You laughed and scoop him up into a hug. He was just a fuzzy blur at that moment but he was still your Rocket. Rocket never minded you picking him up. He loved being close to you. "Just please fix them if you can." You laugh. "I'll go now, you've waited long enough." He nuzzled his head into your jumpsuit before running off towards his room. Later that night, after several hours hard work, he had your glasses working as good as new. He even took it upon himself to add some new features. He held them excitedly and ran off to find you. You had managed to stumble back to your room and lay on your bed. There was a quiet knock on your door and you called out for whoever it was to come in. "Hey (f/n), I fixed 'em." He ran over to your bed and hopped up. You allowed him to place them onto your face. You watched as the galaxy came into focus once more and your eyed landed on Rocket. His beautiful brown eyes stared back at you and a smirk tugged at his lips. "Oh Rocket, thank you so much. They're as good as new!" You pulled him into another hug. He once again snuggled close and smiled. Trying his hardest to wrap his arms around you. "They're better than new. Thought I'd add some stuff, y'know." He pulled away and placed it on your hand. He then extend one of your fingers and guided it up to the metal frame of your glasses. You could feel two small buttons. "This one," He moved your hand onto the left one. "Allows ya to detect what weapons someone has. Pretty useful in combat. This one," He guided you to the right one. He tried to stifle his laughter but still ended up sniggering. "Allows ya to see the probability of winning in a fight with someone based on build and IQ, so, if it's below thirty percent ya know ya gonna get thrown across a bar and smash your glasses." You laughed and nudged him playfully. "What's the probability I'll win against you then tough guy?" You press the right button and writing appears in the corner of your vision. 'Aint nobody beating me princess, besides, who else will fix your glasses?' You laughed again at the fact that he had made your glasses as sarcastic as himself. "Thank you Rocket, I love them." You smiled and kissed his cheek. "No problem (f/n), ya waited long enough." He had a dopey grin on his face and he scratched behind his ear nervously. "Since I don't need no excuse to hang out with ya does that mean we can go get a drink when we land?" His eyes dropped to your bed sheet. He found that the pattern had suddenly became very interesting to him. "Of course Rocket, I'd love to." You smiled when he looked up at you in disbelief. "Really?" He beamed. "Really. I think I'd be lying if I said I hadn't enjoyed your company for the past two weeks." "It's a... It's a date then?" His grin faded and he regretted the words as soon as he had said them. Had he just blown it? Took it too far? He looked away in fear. "Its a date." You grinned excitedly. "I can't wait." His smile returned in full force and he looked back up at you. "Me neither sweetheart." He smirked.

[seven-oomen]

So I hope you’re feeling better, and have managed to cool down finally.  A year or two ago, the A/C in my apartment kept going out, to the point where finally they had to just replace the whole unit, and there were days when the temp inside would hit nearly 33 degrees (according to Google’s conversion chart.)  As someone also very much built for colder climes, I was about ready to murder someone, but that would have required too much movement and energy expenditure.  So I know just how indescribably miserable that feeling is.  (Frankly if I ended up in Eur at any point, I would probably also cave and buy some sort of A/C, too.  Give me cold over hot any day.  I can always add more layers, I can only take off so many.)  Also, I hope you’re feeling better in general after therapy, and that it was at least helpful and cathartic, if super difficult and heavy.

I’m sorry your game turned out disappointing.  I’d seen a few memes pop up on Facebook with no real context that now make a lot more sense.  I think sometimes a sequel that just doesn’t quite live up to expectations can be worse than if it’s just a trainwreck from the start, because you can visualize how it might have been if only…

I did have one more thought on the HP front (oh god, why?  how?  I was never really even in that fandom…)  I can’t remember enough details right now to be certain if Durmstrang was more generically Eastern European coded or if it was more specific to certain countries, but I thought it wouldn’t necessarily be entirely out of the question that Noah could be a student there.  Chris in Beauxbatons is a no- brainer.  And Hale is already a British last name.  Basically, what I’m saying is Tri-Wizard Tournament, except they’re fucking.  (Which given what little I know about the HP fandom, that is probably not the first time someone’s said that…)

And I see we’re just going right for the feels with that flashback, huh? XD  Why do I have the feeling that there’s going to be a corresponding scene in the current timeline as a callback that will just make it hurt even more?  (My heart says Stiles or Malia singing it to Ben, my head says anything is good, really)  And now I can look forward to imagining John’s ghost lovingly Gibbs-smacking the three of them upside the head any time they start getting angsty about how the other two feel.  Do you have any FCs for (young) Claudia or her father (I think there were already at least a couple different actresses, so I consider her fair game)?  Or Julio?  And having a visual for him now makes me think of the flashback in Ch.6 where he was treating their injuries, wondering if he and Mieczyslaw ever did go to have a “chat” with Elias, if there was a specific event that lead to that particular incident between Chris, Noah, and Elias, and where Peter was during all that (and who kept him from “helping” his father with his visit)?

Oh, one more for the sibling prank pile: when I was in high school/college, a lot of times when I’d be over at this one friend’s house, we’d be downstairs playing video games with her little sister and/or brother (by which I mean, they would be playing GoldenEye or Perfect Dark, and I would just be dying a lot because I’m beyond terrible at FPS), if we were playing music “too loud” (usually No Doubt or Garbage, or later on, AFI), her older brother would go upstairs to his room and start blasting Queen or Pink Floyd at top volume to try and drown us out, like some kind of Stereo Cold War (instead of using headphones, or asking us to turn it down, or something else logical.)  It definitely made for some interesting mash-ups, and I always had to fight down the urge to ask him “…you know we like those bands, too, right?  Like, if you’re trying to dissuade us or irritate us, you’re doing it wrong…"  Long story short, I could totally see Stiles and Jackson doing something like this, until one of their dads gets so frustrated they start blasting some of the most teenager repelling music they can think of to make them stop.  Peter: “You think this Spice Girls mix is painful?  Keep it up and you’ll learn that I know where Chris keeps the Nickleback CDs he doesn’t think we know about.”

This was originally gonna be part of my review, but I wasn’t sure how long it might get, so I saved it for one of these.  So I know in a previous chat you mentioned Peter’s wedding day was one of the happiest of his life, and I know Chris calls them his husbands, while Noah said Peter’d been “practically proposing”, so I was wondering would they be considered engaged at this point, or actually married (like, werewolf married or something)?  Because I am entirely here for some kind of ceremony once shit calms down a bit.  I can’t see Peter resisting the chance to get both his boys into fancy suits to show off just how lucky he is.  And they could work all the kids into the ceremony in different roles, all of them dressed up, too, but allowed to style it based on their personality and preferences.  Think about all the photoshoot opportunities.  Not sure who would be the best choice for officiant, because I’m not sure who may or may not have popped up by that point in the story.  I feel like the most appropriate setting (based on present knowledge) would be the Nemeton.  Second option would be the back yard of the house once it’s been rebuilt, depending how far in the future that is and how long they want to wait to make it official (Or other locations, what ever feels the most right.)  Imagine Melissa (lovingly) roasting the everloving shit out of them in a speech.  T H E  D A N C I N G…  Just, like, a huge celebration of the fact that they made it through.  And don’t forget the honeymoon…  Them at very least getting a room in some super luxe hotel, even if they don’t want to go too terribly far away because of the kids.  Champagne, huge shower stall and Jacuzzi tub, giant bed with 1000ct sheets, balcony with a hot tub, just, like, all the nicest, fanciest luxuries.   (And because I apparently can’t get enough of them teasing Peter to distraction)  At the end of the night they all stumble into the bedroom, and get Peter sitting down on a chair or bench facing the bed.  They loosely tie his wrists behind him with the tie he’d been wearing, and slowly unbutton his shirt and slide it down to wrap around them as well (they all know it hasn’t a chance of holding him, that’s not the point) before backing away out of reach and going to work on each other’s suits.  Eventually they’re down to just their necklaces, dress shirts, and an extra surprise they had made for their husband; matching Chantilly lace panties specially handwoven with a triskelion pattern (I was thinking maybe out of lilies-of-the-valley, because for some reason I felt like Peter was a May baby, and that’s the birth flower for that month, and also I feel that would curve into the Hale spirals fairly easily and nicely.  And while I like the idea that it’s traditionally black, this one has a lovely blue shift threaded through it that would look AMAZING on them), and featuring thin triple side ties made from silk in shades of blue to match their eyes (‘cause maybe he won’t rip it if he can just untie it?).  Peter’s brain would just keep blue screening and rebooting as he tried to process everything, while they turn and crawl up the bed (giving a hell of a view as they go), turning back to him as they lean up against each other, trying to mock pout through their smirks like “Won’t you join us, husband?  It’s lonely up here without you."  His shirt just ends up confetti sized shreds of white cotton (or silk?) floating gently down to the floor as he surges up the bed at literal supernatural speed so fast he almost bounces off the headboard, trying to figure out a way to tackle both of them at once.  (…Holy shit, I cannot believe I just actually wrote all that out.  Apologies if it went a little far, as per usual, I may have gotten carried away.  In my defense, speculating about it kept me from murdering the guy who decided to open and start "testing” our dog whistles because he insisted the last one he got didn’t work, so.)  Actually, that also reminds me, we know that Derek has a triskelion tattoo, do you think Peter does as well?  Or gets one at some point?  Do you think Noah or Chris would ever get one, as a sign of pack loyalty, since the Hales are the ones that took them in when their own families cast them out?  (And also, that’s definitely a mark that’s not going to fade away, but also does not carry the risk of accidental turning.)  Where would any of them have/get them?

And re: review responses, etc.  Don’t worry if you don’t want to reveal too much ahead of time.  I generally figure a lot of what I mention is stuff that has a good chance of just coming up later in the story.  I’m equally happy with the previews we do get and with waiting patiently (I swear I can) for things to be revealed in future chapters.

Oh, and the cosplay!  (Sorry, meant to mention that earlier but I got…distracted…)  If you do ever get the chance to do that one that would be amazing!  By the time I got into TW I wasn’t getting to cons very much any more, so I’ve never really seen anyone cosplaying any TW characters, at least obviously.  And we so rarely got to see any of Peter’s beta shift as it was.  I will say that the Hale boys are some of my faves for fandom inspired fashion (basically where it’s not specifically a costume and most regular people wouldn’t get it but I know.  I’ve done it with a number of characters over the years.)  I have several henleys in colors that feel appropriate to the show’s wardrobe, that if I’m in the mood I’ll pair with some dark jeans and boots or black chucks.  It lets me express my fannish inclinations with less risk of anyone getting all judge-y about it.  I, however, can’t get away with wearing them with quite as few buttons done up as they do, there tend to be laws about that sort of thing.  I also have a cute floral dress that works really well for a Lydia inspired look, and plans for similar, slightly more obvious, versions for Raven (Teen Titans) and Black Canary, should I ever manage to get to a convention again (I’m much more prone to costumes that are adaptations over exact accuracy.  Nobody wants to see me in a spandex suit, not even me.)  But yes, full support and encouragement on the cosplay!  That look is definitely one that would catch attention.

Final unexpected segue: Many, MANY years ago we carried a product at work that was an anti-mating spray (yes, that’s spelled correctly).  It was intended for unspayed females that went into heat to help keep interested males away.  Many were the customers that bought it without paying attention who thought it would help with grooming.  I just thought it was one of the funniest things I’d ever heard of, and that was long before I knew anything about omegaverse fic.  Can you imagine something like that in a traditional a/b/o story? XD  I still think about that product every so often (no idea if they even still make anything like that), and wanted to share the hilarity.

Wow, just realized that it’s like 3am.  Jesus, I’ve been rambling a while.  But I think that was everything?  Anyway I’m going to attempt to go to bed, and pretend I didn’t just write more almost porn.  (There’s a quote from the movie Noises Off! [another fave, highly recommend if you’ve not seen it], where a character is referring to her ability to remember lines, and says “Well, it’s like a slot machine up here.” *gestures vaguely at her head* “I, I open my mouth, and I never know what’s going to come out; three oranges, or two lemons and a banana."  And I feel like that’s an accurate description of my posting style.)

For the FC I do, for teenage Claudia: Davina Claire (but imagine the brown eyes)

For Adult Claudia the actress Joey Honsa: 

And for Claudia’s dad (I’m not awake enough to copy Miech’s name fully): Gary Oldman

And Julio Delgado: Santiago Calbrera

Fucking tumblr... I had entire sections typed out during work but my phone freaked out and now it’s gone and I can retype it all over a again... am angry >:( 

Anyway, yeah I’m doing a lot better, ac’s on, I got drinks and shit. And I’m trying to rock my Reese’s pieces tank with Harry Potter booty shorts.

I’m gonna try and answer the most important things I wrote down and work from there. 

And now I can look forward to imagining John’s ghost lovingly Gibbs-smacking the three of them upside the head any time they start getting angsty about how the other two feel.  

There was a lot of Gibbs-smacking back when John was watching over them. Although he made sure to never freak out Chris and instead go for the ‘abby kisses’ on the temple and forehead whenever Chris did the right thing or was particularly vulnerable.

I also have this headcanon that John took care of Allison and Jackson for the first week or two because Chris just couldn’t. He felt alone at almost 18, just went through pure hell to deliver two babies he doesn’t really know. He loves them, he does, he’s just-, he doesn’t know how to feel. So John steps in and teaches him how to be a parent. It takes a bit of time but by the time Jackson and Allison are a week old, Chris is fully on board and would die for them in a heartbeat. And John just looks at him with this pride in his eyes and kisses his forehead. “I’m proud of you.” It’s the first time Chris hears that from a father figure.

And having a visual for him now makes me think of the flashback in Ch.6 where he was treating their injuries, wondering if he and Mieczyslaw ever did go to have a “chat” with Elias, if there was a specific event that lead to that particular incident between Chris, Noah, and Elias, and where Peter was during all that (and who kept him from “helping” his father with his visit)?

This I will address in the prequel, and maybe a very short teaser flashback.

And I was going to close this story with a wedding, a honeymoon, and a pack run at the end. ^^ And holy shit the panties idea is fucking golden.

I could not focus on my work today XD. What an image please do give me more if you think of them ^^. It’s a lovely idea to have Chris and Noah dressed in lacy triskelion panties while having Peter ‘bound’ in a chair. They’re making out, they’re all having fun. And Peter’s hard, like he’s trying so hard to be a good boy for them but holy shit if they keep making out like that, all bets are off. What a fantastic image. Although probably not the best when trying to work XD. (I don’t mind.)

Actually, that also reminds me, we know that Derek has a triskelion tattoo, do you think Peter does as well?  Or gets one at some point?  Do you think Noah or Chris would ever get one, as a sign of pack loyalty, since the Hales are the ones that took them in when their own families cast them out?  (And also, that’s definitely a mark that’s not going to fade away, but also does not carry the risk of accidental turning.)  Where would any of them have/get them?

He do! All the Hales do, it’s a coming off age thing for the wolves and some humans get them as well to show solidarity with their wolf siblings.

John had a tattoo on his left pectoral. His wife Kathryn had hers on her right shoulder. Nathaniel had one between his shoulder blades out of solidarity to his wolf brethren. (He was born human). Talia had hers on the right side of her abdomen just above her hip bone. Merlia had a tramp stamp triskelion. Peter has his over his heart. (The top of the spiral can be seen peeking through some of his deeper v-necks.)

 Laura had hers on her left shoulder. Derek has his between the shoulder blades in honor of his oldest uncle. Chris gets his on his left pectoral after he’s had his youngest child. (In honor of John) Noah gets his on his right pectoral as a mirror image after he’s had his youngest twins. (They talked about it before hand where they’d get them.)

Malia gets hers on her left wrist. Stiles on his right wrist in solidarity. Both of them on the inside. Jackson gets his just below his right collarbone. Allison gets hers just below her left collarbone. Ben gets his on his left arm when he’s old enough.

Not sure about the others but it’ll come to me.

Can you imagine something like that in a traditional a/b/o story? XD  I still think about that product every so often (no idea if they even still make anything like that), and wanted to share the hilarity.

I am wheezing. That’d be so fucking funny XD Anti-Alpha! Alpha be gone! Spray the horny away! (Okay I’ll stop.)

But now I am imagining Stiles making a prank like that where he just gives his pops (Noah) a spray bottle for christmas that says: Spray the horny away! And has a photoshopped picture of Peter on it with a red cross through it.

They have a good laugh about it.

[tigerlover16-uk]

romance in media

You want to know one of the things I most appreciate about Dragon Ball? It doesn’t wait until the very end of the series to have characters get into romantic relationships together and then never do anything with those relationships.

Probably one of my favourite parts about Dragon Ball Super is seeing the various couples play off of one another or otherwise getting insight into their relationships. Gohan being a dorky, loving husband is just the most adorable thing ever, and the scene in episode 74 when Barry Kahn, a sleezy movie star with a grudge against Gohan, tries to screw him over by convincing Videl he’s been cheating on her with some out of context pictures, only for Videl to immediately see through his load of bull because she knows Gohan would never do something like that and then calling out Barry for how pathetic he really is, is honestly one of the best scenes in Dragon Ball history to me.

Vegeta and Bulma have tons of adorable moments together, so I can’t even settle on any one scene with them that I enjoyed the most. Just seeing how much Android 18 appreciated everything Krillin went out of his way to do for her and their daughter to make them happy, and her wanting to use one of Shenron’s wishes to come up with the perfect thank you present for him in episode 68, was really engrossing stuff, and their little battle couple moments in episode 99 were fantastic too.

Heck, while they don’t get as many as they should, a lot of Goku and Chichi’s interactions are fun too, and they did have a fun little arc building up their relationship at the end of the original anime (Filler or not) and plenty of nice moments in Z that show just how real and grounded their relationship actually is.

Neither DBZ or Super focus a great deal of attention on either of these relationships, but it’s always fun when these characters do get moments together, and their relationships are all different, cute and interesting in their own ways.

It’s something I’ve really grown to love about the franchise as I’ve gotten older. Mainly because I’m sick of how so many other shows, movies, comics, manga, books etc. that I watch/read handle romance.

I hate the common story telling tropes where characters are frequently ship teased through out a series, and then only get together at the very end when there’s no time left to actually explore how they interact as a couple, as opposed to before they got together. Good shows do this all the time. Avatar the Last Airbender did at least have the decency to have Zuko and Mai, and Sokka and Suki get together in the last season before it ended, but Aang and Katara, who were very plainly painted as the “main couple” of the series, had to wait until the last scene of the very last episode to do so.

And they didn’t really need to either, Aang had already made his feelings towards Katara pretty clear half way through the season, why couldn’t they have just gotten together a few episodes before Sozin’s comet?

This whole cliché is pretty much the only issue I have with the My Hero Academia series. As someone who’s read the manga, it gets irritating how despite all the ship tease between Izuku Midoriya and Ochako Uraraka throughout the series, with Ochako having an obvious growing crash on Izuku as the series goes on (And him being infatuated with her from their first encounter), nothing has really come of it outside of a scene of Ochako having a love epiphany, only to tell herself “I have to put these feelings out of my mind so I can stay focused on bettering myself as a hero!” or something like that.

An that’s all well and good, it’s a good character moment and shows that there’s a lot more to her than just being a satellite love interest... but it’s incredibly frustrating at the same time, because the characters are already cute together and would be an utterly adorable couple, and there’s a lot of potential there. Plus, it would buck so many standard shonen conventions and make My Hero Academia feel even more perfect than it already is.

Just... why not let them just spit it out and get together at some point? Honestly if that doesn’t happen and the writer waits until the last chapter to have them get together, I’m going to be very upset. Even more so if it goes the fairy tail route, having NONE of the hinted at couples get together at the end, despite constant ship tease between them for years and knowing full well what the fans wanted to see happen.

And it’s just... it’s not like the build up to a couple getting together CAN’T be interesting and engrossing, with the relationship upgrade being a satisfying climax. One of the reasons Tangled is one of my favourite movies is because of how amazingly well Repunzel and Eugene’s relationship was built up. (And yes, the fact that they got a series following up on that with them as a couple having plenty of focus pleases me greatly, thank you for asking).

But so many shows, movies, books etc don’t do it as well and often have characters with obvious attractions to each other, but they just can’t spit it out or they never try to talk to one another about their feelings. And you know what, that’s not interesting. That’s frustrating, because I’m sick of WANTING to see characters get together in so much of the media I watch, or just generally being given obvious signs that “Yeah, these two are end game” only to have nothing come of that plot point other than maybe a single kiss and a “Now they’re together” moment.

And I know the excuse some might try to pull for kids cartoons or anime with “Well, kids don’t care about romance”. To which I say... I always wanted ship teased characters to get together as a little kid. I was very happy to see Peter Parker marry Mary jane on Spider-man The Animated Series, and was devastated when that Mary jane turned out to be a deteriorating clone who ended up dying. I’ve wanted all my life to see a resolution to the series where the real Mary Jane was found so she and Peter could be together.

I liked seeing characters be couples. Probably helped I watched a lot of Disney movies, where romance was a big plot point in most of them. Maybe not all kids care to see romance in the stuff they watch, but others don’t mind it or find themselves enjoying it even if they can’t relate. I was never a monkey tailed boy living in the middle of a woods with no understanding of any social norms whatsoever who grew up to find out he was an alien and fulfilled a legendary prophecy to overthrow space Hitler, but that lack of relatability didn’t stop me from finding Goku a fascinating character growing up. So why just assume that no kid would want to see two main characters just being a couple in a cartoon? So long as it’s handled well, I don’t think most would mind.

I just wish more shows would actually do stuff with their end game ships after letting the characters get together, instead of just assuming the act of becoming a couple is the end of the story. NO. That’s literally the least interesting part of a relationship, the best parts are the characters actually being a couple, and all the ups and downs, and adorable loving moments that come with that. And the sooner media as a whole realises that, the better.

i’m not saying shipping has to be a big part of the plot either to the point that it takes over the story, of course not. That’s silly unless the work IS a love story. I’m just saying, it would be great to see more shows that didn’t use “getting together” as a note to end on.

I guess that’s one thing Dragon ball still has over almost all other popular shonen series. It knows how to let it’s couples actually be couples.

[mcutrio]

Home [9]

Home [9]

Tags: @buckys-little-monster @imaginesofeverykind

“We’ve had our time to celebrate. Now it’s time for you to show us what you’ve got; what you’re able to offer to the Avengers, to the world,” Steve began, clad in athletic wear in front of the newest additions to the team as Natasha stood beside him. “Today, we’ll start with muscle endurance and basic cardio.”

Kat popped her bubble gum and folded her arms. She could bench-press a truck without breaking a sweat, so whatever Steve had in store for her had her unamused.

“Rotate through the gym equipment, twenty minutes per set,” Steve said. “Good luck.”

Kat resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she seated herself upon a Peck Deck beside Tabitha and Courtenay, who managed to comply without much struggle.

“This is stupid, don’t you think?” Kat asked, breezing through the session.

“Easy for you to say,” Tabitha breathed, “you’ve got super strength.”

“Nothing super about it,” Kat stated, “but I’m getting real tired of Steve treating us like we’re kids. If he had any idea--”

“What was that?” Steve spoke up, nodding in her direction. She stared him out, waiting for his next words. “Good. Get back to work.”

“He’s acting like he’s a teacher,” Kat scoffed under her breath, keeping a steady eye on the super-soldier. “This isn’t the army barracks, you know?”

“Yeah, deadset,” Courtenay agreed. “But he means well. Some of us need the training,” Court huffed, lifting herself from the station once the twenty minutes were up. “I appreciate that he’s trying to help us.”

“No, I totally get that,” Kat answered with a nod, lying down on the bench-press pads. “But treating us like we’re preschoolers is unnecessary.”

“It’s because he was a soldier,” Tabitha said, adjusting her grip on the bars. “This is all he knew, right?”

Kat desperately wanted to say something about how he wasn’t a soldier anymore, that this wasn’t 1945 nor was she about to act like it was. This session was completely unnecessary for her and, with the agitation and paranoia of Hydra hanging over her head, she was irritable and on edge.

Kat collapsed on the bench-press backrest, seeing no use in what Steve was doing. Was it a test? She couldn’t be sure.

“Screw it,” she sighed, throwing aside the weights, grabbing her duffel bag and heading for the exit.

“Where are you going?” Steve questioned.

Kat turned back to him. “To do something that’s useful. You know how strong I am Steve, so I don’t exactly know what you expect for me to gain from this.”

He smiled. “Initiative. Well done.”

Kat rolled her eyes, “Sure, whatever,” she stated, slamming the gym door shut behind her.

Nat, at Steve’s side, rose her brow. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Steve smiled in the general direction that Kat had left. “I’ll make it work.”

Later on that day, when the rest of the team had completed their training, Court and Tabitha stumbled into Kat’s room who was idly typing away on her phone, uninterested in anything else.

“What was with you this morning?” Tabitha questioned, stretching. “There wasn’t really any need to be rude to Steve. He’s just trying to help.”

“I know,” Kat groaned. “But I’ve just… last night, I was thinking about the very reason we tracked down the Avenger’s, to begin with. It wasn’t to help them. It wasn’t to become part of their super-parade. We were sent to kill them.”

Court frowned. “I said this way back on the farm, Kat. We’ve made our decision now.”

“Maybe so,” Kat’s eyebrows furrowed together. “But I can’t help but think that Steve doesn’t see our potential. If we wanted to, we could easily take the whole team down.”

Tabitha scoffed. “Rubbish. There’s no way we’d manage that.”

“Are you sure?” Kat asked incredulously. “I’m stronger than all of them combined, you can move things just by thinking it and Court, you don’t miss a shot. What chance have they got?”

“Why are you saying this like you’re about to go through with it?” Tabitha questioned, folding her arms.

“I’m not!” Kat defended. “I’m just saying that Steve’s so up his own ass that he’s unable to see what we’re capable of--”

“Sounds like you’re threatening him a little bit,” Court said, sitting down on the bed next to Kat. “Just take a chill pill. He’s trying his best, you’re trying your best. Maybe we just need a break.”

Kat swallowed and eyed the two girls in front of her. “You can’t tell me that you’re not afraid that he’ll come for us, right?”

“He’s dead,” Tabitha snapped. “You saw it, we all saw it. Rumlow is dead.”

The three of them all heaved a breath upon her words. They’d all heard and seen the news; the fall of SHIELD and the uproar of Hydra. At this point, they’d barely made their place in the world, completing only small missions and heists right under Fury’s nose that would ultimately lead to the corruption of the business he’d built.

“It’s hard to accept the fact that we’re safe.”

“Maybe we’re not,” Tabitha shrugged, “but this is the best place for us right now.”

“And what if Rumlow is actually alive? What if he comes and he targets not just us, but the ‘team’ that we’ve become too attached to?” Kat exasperated. “Everyone around is in ultimate danger, whether that’s because of Rumlow or if it’s because of us. But this isn’t their fight.”

“Sokovia wasn’t our fight!” Courtenay snapped, “but we made our choice. We can’t turn back on it now.”

That struck Kat into silence, though she soon nodded which was followed by an uneasy sigh. “We’ll just have to be prepared.”

“Always,” Court nodded, her voice noticeably quiet and calmer now before she sucked in a breath. “Right. Get out of your gym clothes, you rat. Food will be soon.”

“And I’m cooking,” Tabitha announced.

“Oh? What’s the occasion?” Kat asked, perking up a bit.

“To new friends,” she announced, mocking Tony’s words from the other day.  “It’ll be ready in an hour. Don’t sulk in here, alright?”

“Sure,” Kat agreed loosely, though she couldn’t help but smile.

About twenty minutes later, Tabitha found herself being the only one in the kitchen as she made use of the expensive tools and overpriced luxury ingredients to cook enough chicken alfredo and bread rolls to feed a small village, alongside a vegetarian dish of pasta and sauce for Kat.

“Something smells good,” Bucky commented, sauntering into the kitchen as the rest of the team argued over a menacing game of Monopoly in the room next to them. “Didn’t know you could cook.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” Tabitha smiled upon his presence, dropping a pinch of garlic powder into her sauce mixture, then tapping her fingers on the marble counter to the thrum of the playlist she’d put on. Bucky merely hummed at her words.

“It’s nice, you know?” Bucky said, finally.

“What’s that?” Tabitha asked, stirring the pot.

Screams from the other room of ‘you’re cheating!’ and ‘go to jail!’ could be heard, followed by an agitated Thor saying ‘I don’t understand!’ and the pair shared a laugh.

“That,” Bucky nodded. “They might sound like they’re murdering each other but they’re being, you know, normal.”

“Hmm,” Tabitha considered this. “As normal as the Avengers can get, anyway.”

“You’re not wrong,” Bucky chuckled. “It’s been too long since I’ve been able to experience this.”

Tabitha nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

There was a quiet pause of tension before the timer on her phone blared, causing them both to jerk in surprise before she quickly shut it off and turned back to the pots on the stove, switching the gas off and beginning to serve the food into a large dish and then set up bowls around it. She then grabbed beers and poured wines for the team to grab.

Courtenay skidded into the room upon hearing the alarm.

“Does that mean foods ready?” She questioned, eyeing the dishes. “Oh, good. I’m starving. Peter! Kat!”

The two she called soon arrived, alongside the rest of the team who all moaned in gratification and wailed about how hungry they were after a day of hard work. They filled their dishes and grabbed their bread rolls before all collapsing into the lounging room again, where the competitive mood dwindled down to a homely feel.

“You know, maybe I could get used to this,” Kat decided, taking a bite of her food. Her voice was low so that she didn’t interrupt the barking laughter from the team, and Tabitha smiled to herself. “It’s not too bad.”

“I swear you turn into a different person when you have something to eat.” Tabitha smiled.

Kat shrugged. “I get hangry.”

“How about a Star Wars Marathon?” Courtenay suggested, pulling the box set from within her jacket.

Kat looked at her with raised brows. “Okay, I’m seriously concerned as to where you’re hiding this stuff.”

“Oh, God, get the nerd out of the room,” Tony rolled his eyes, pressing his hand to his forehead.

Courtenay scoffed, pushing the first disc into the DVD player. “Says the one who created an element.”

“At least my achievement is worth something,” he shot back with a smirk.

“Ooh, Court. Need some ice for that burn?” Kat chortled.

Thor laughed at this, clutching his side as he did so. “That humours me.”

The rest of the Avengers stared at him, unamused.

“He’s the best to tell jokes to,” Tony grinned, pointing towards the god. “He’s never heard any of them before.”

The team managed to get through A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back before they decided it was enough of Courtenay narrating it, and her and Peter sharing two, big dorky grins as they mouthed the lines to one another. Tony was the first to call it quits before she could start up the third movie.

“I had a feeling you were going to do that,” Natasha grinned.

“I hate to say it but I was actually having a great time,” Sam admitted with a laugh.

“That I didn't have a feeling of,” she added, raising her brow at Wilson.

“Now I’m going to leave. Have fun, children,” Tony remarked, lifting himself off of the plush couch he’d sunk into before retreating from the room.

“I’ll clean the dishes,” Kat decided, grasping the plates in her hands. The moment she left the room, Court whispered something in Peter’s ear before the two of them leaned towards Thor with grins on their faces.

“So, Thor…” Courtenay began.

“Yes?” Thor responded, beaming innocently.

“When are you gonna hit that?” Court asked.

Thor jerked his head back in confusion. “Sorry? I do not understand--”

Nat rolled her eyes. “She’s asking when you’re going to make a move on Kat.”

Tabitha, who was against Bucky’s side with his arm thrown around her shoulders, grinned at their words and looked intently towards the god, wondering what he was about to say. Thor, for once, seemed stuck for words. Nervous, almost.

“Oh my god, he’s blushing,” Sam almost rolled his eyes before he leaned over and slapped Thor on the shoulder. “Come on, man. I thought you were supposed to be a god!”

“I know not what you’re speaking of,” Thor denied. “Lady Kathryn and I work well together.”

“Oh, you sure do,” Court laughed, turning back to Peter. “Come on, Parker. We can finish the movie marathon elsewhere if these losers don’t want a part of it. Night, nerds.”

“You’re going to watch Star Wars, no?” Pietro shot back, teasing her for the insult she used against them, given the fact she was about to watch the well-loved sci-fi movie. Wanda, who was mostly quiet through their interactions, laughed beside him.

“Watch your words, Sonic boy,” Courtenay warned, pointing towards him before leaving the room along with her box set and her boyfriend, possibly the two most important things to her.

Kat returned, rubbing her hands down on her trousers. “Oh, Court’s gone?”

“Mm-hmm,” Tabitha answered, her lips pressed together as she resisted the urge to laugh, given the heavily awkward atmosphere that Kat had unknowingly walked into. Bucky was in a similar situation to the girl attached to his side; he had looked away towards Steve, whose face was steely and impressively nonchalant given how amusing he found the situation.

“What?” Kat asked, freezing as she noticed the look on everyone's faces.

“Oh, hey, Buck! Remember that thing I needed to show you? Yeah, let me show you now,” Steve suddenly said.

“What-- oh! Yes, I remember,” Bucky shot up to his feet. “Let’s go. Show me the-- the thing.”

Kat frowned, confused.

“You two!” Tabitha suddenly said, staring at the twins. “How about you show me how your room decorations are coming along?”

Before Kat or Thor themselves had anything to say, the rest of the team eventually followed before they shut the lounging room door behind them and vanished.

“Well, that wasn’t totally weird,” Kat decided, “is there something going on? Did they leave you here on purpose, or--”

Thor merely shrugged in response.

“Well, goodnight, I suppose,” Kat sighed, walking past him. However, she felt herself walk slam into a wall of purple energy that flared out in front of her upon contact. She poked it, then looked towards the glass door where she saw her scheming friend laughing to herself, hands raised as she created the energy field that prevented Kat from leaving. Tabitha then pointed at Thor and gave a thumbs up, proceeding to keep her hands raised. “Never mind.”

“They’re not going to let me leave until I, quote, ‘hit that’ unquote. I believe that was their phrasing,” Thor told her, completely unaware of the meaning of the words.

Kat turned, mouth wide, and shot daggers at Tabitha who quickly moved away from the clear door, Bucky hot in pursuit.

“Who said that?” Kat asked innocently.

“It was Courtenay,” Thor answered.

“I thought so,” Kat nodded, cracking her knuckles before sighing in defeat and collapsing on the couch. “Oh, she’s gonna get it.”

“Snitches get stitches, Thor!” Courtenay’s voice boomed through the speakers.

“Oh, great, they’re listening to us, too,” Kat frowned, glancing around the room for cameras though finding nothing of the like. She flipped her finger off in a general direction and sighed. “Well, I guess we’re not going anywhere. Did you enjoy tonight?”

“The food satisfied me,” Thor nodded. “Though I did not understand your cardboard game of… buying houses, and getting imprisoned…“

“Yeah, that’s Monopoly for you. And Tabitha is a great cook You enjoy the food down here? Is it anything compared to the royal feasts in Asgard?” Kat teased.

“I’ve not had much to try, I must be honest. But perhaps you could show me,” Thor rose a brow, a subtle smile.

“Sure,” Kat agreed enthusiastically. “We can start with Indian, or Thai or no, Chinese! Oh, do you mean like a date?” She rambled on, before finally realising his hidden meaning.

Thor laughed and dropped his head a little. “No, not the fruit. Like courtship.”

“Same thing, Thor,” Kat grinned, feeling heat rise to her face. “But yes, of course, like courtship.”

“Cool now kiss.”

Kat glanced around the room, “shut up, Court.”

“Ok.”

“Right. Sweet,” Kat breathed, the clear anxiousness between them making her feel far more awkward. She tapped his shoulder as she stood, beaming. “Talk to me about this tomorrow?”

“You have my word.”

“Alright,” she breathed, turning and leaving the room. The moment she left the room, she set off in pursuit of Courtenay, whose room was being peeked in on by Tabitha and Bucky.

“Do you hear those noises?” Tabitha chuckled. “What the Hell are they doing in there?”

Kat listened in, frowning at the groans she heard before she burst into the room, expecting something scandalous, though found herself interrupting a reenactment of the iconic Anakin and Obi-Wan battle between two nerds. They froze in place, eyeing Kat suspiciously.

“You interrupted!” Courtenay groaned. “Now we have to start again. Peter! From the top--”

Tabitha shut the door, almost having hoped that they had walked in on something else. They went their separate ways, eventually retiring for sleep and readying themselves for the seemingly eventful days to come.

[letspachecoes]

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When we initially met SpiderMan in Impressive Dream # 15, he was just ordinary Peter Parker, an unpopular secondary school student. Outside of gathering skins the game instructions is total as much as you with lots of totally free roam elements urging you to do whatever you want in anyhow way that you want. As a massive fan of the more original Spider-Man games it was nice to see the level of top quality present in this game.

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Made mostly out-of-date by the later on open globe experiences, Neversoft's Spider-Man accepted something that could not be revealed in Spidey console games before: Peter Parker's voice. If you wish to really feel old, just recall all the various pinball games of your youth, then recognize theyd never ever be built today.

Both of the games include a fantastic open world environment where you get to play as the Hulk (exactly what could be extra destructive compared to that?) One of the very best components of the game particularly is the capacity to unlock additional skins for the Hulk based on your achievements.

Just what I suggest by this is that we have to think of Spiderman games both online and also on video gaming consoles. Revealing 1 to 12 of 12 Articles matching 'nintendo games for totally free' in associated posts. Most of the game locations focus on Arkham Asylum which homes criminals off the coast of Gotham City however a few of the games do also allow gamers to check out components of Gotham.

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Another one of the comic book themed games like Prototype is Spider-Man Shattered Measurements. Spiderman games make another category of high need online games, but if we are to extensively review Spiderman games, we are mosting likely to should talk about them in a wider feeling.

Capcom as well as Wonder have developed some incredibly popular games with each other, consisting of some titles that have actually maintained appeal for years as well as years in the combating game neighborhood. Followers might never ever see him on the team in theater, but they do get to see Spider-Man take part in games similar to this one from Ubisoft.