#this is the crack taken seriously fic

[lailuhhh]

No Good + Very Bad + Murphy’s Law

Mac didn’t believe in luck. He believed in science, so there had to be a reasonable explanation on why everything was happening to him

Or

Mac has a no good, terrible, very bad day

Read it here!

[bi-bi-buckleys]

Ok listen, I wrote this at like 11 last night in about thirty minutes, and have only proofread it twice. But screw it, here’s my “it was all a dream” fic.

Buck awoke with a gasp, sitting straight up in bed. His bare chest heaving as he focuses on catching his breath, slowing his rapidly beating pulse. The events of the last few days are swimming in his head…but they don’t seem quite as sharp. He sits there for a moment, trying to remember….

“Evan?”

Buck startles a bit, but then immediately relaxes. Oh.

Oh.

“Are you okay?” Tommy stands at the top of the stairs holding two cups of steaming coffee. His hair is mussed from sleep and he has a look of concern on his face.

Buck breathes out a quick relived laugh. “Yeah, yeah I-I’m okay”

Tommy doesn’t look convinced as he approaches the bed and sits gingerly next to Buck handing him a cup of coffee. He waits for Buck to continue.

“I just had the strangest dream…” Buck trails off staring straight ahead, his brow furrowed.

Tommy stares at him, eyebrows raised, and when Buck doesn’t elaborate he asks “are you going to elaborate?”

“Oh! Yeah! Umm… So we go to our anniversary dinner and it’s great, but then this girl asks me to take a picture of her and her friends and she’s clearly flirting but I’m not interested but I take the picture then you and I start talking about how you were engaged to a woman and it turns out that woman was Abby!”

Buck takes a breath and examines the confused frown overtaking Tommy’s face and then dramatically proclaims “MY EX ABBY!”

Tommy huffs in exasperation and gives an eye roll as he says, “Yes I got that, but, wait, hold on- we had the past relationships discussion like three months in. I definitely would have told you I was engaged to your ex. Or like…at all.”

“I know but dream us clearly didn’t have that conversation! Also, I didn’t know what the Kinsey scale is but you did!” Buck doesn’t know why but that last part really stuck with him.

One of Tommy’s eyebrows shoots up toward his hairline as he says, “Pretty sure you’re the one who told me about the Kinsey scale after your big queer research binge.”

Buck points his coffee at Tommy, a slightly wild look in his eyes, “Exactly, but apparently dream me didn’t have that research binge! AND!” At this, Buck narrows his eyes accusingly and Tommy prepares himself to have the ‘you can’t be mad at real me for what dream me said‘ argument.

Buck continues, “You called me a himbo.”

Tommy barks a disbelieving laugh as he says, “No I didn’t! Not even dream me could think of you as a himbo.”

Buck rolls his eyes and amends, “Well ok, you said Abby moved on with some himbo, but you didn’t know it was me.”

Tommy nods, somehow following along. “Right, dream us didn’t have the past exes convo. Okay….interesting. Anyway, I’m assuming you spiraled about this whole engaged to Abby thing.”

Buck glared at him. “Wow, rude.” After a beat Buck said “But, I mean, yeah, okay, I did. And I went to talk to Maddie about it and she joked about how many guys Abby turned gay…”

Tommy laughed again, “Wooooah, ok dream Maddie with the homophobia! I hope dream you corrected her!”

“Well I told her you were already gay but I didn’t correct her and tell her I was bi, which is weird.”

“Yeah, agreed. I mean, you took the online quiz and everything.” Tommy quips.

Buck tries to shoot him a dirty look, but he’s clearly fighting back a smile, “Yes, yes I did. Then Josh jumps in with this awesome speech about how coming out in a pre Glee world was different than coming out in a post Glee world and I couldn’t judge those who came before me…”

Tommy interrupts at this point, sensing a pattern. “Again, didn’t you tell me about an article you read about the Glee thing? Are you just giving everyone your research binges in your dreams?”

But shakes his head in exasperation at his dream self and says “Apparently. Anyway, dream Josh helped me to realize that….”

Tommy notices the way that Buck trails off. “That…?”

There’s a slight blush on Bucks face as he continues. “Well… I mean, you know, that I really care about you and I care about your happiness as much as my own and…and I can see a future with you.”

Buck chances a look at Tommy who is smiling at him with so much fondness it makes his heart hurt.

Tommy finally responds with, “Sap.”

Buck can’t help but laugh at that, “Shut up!”

He shoves playfully at his boyfriend’s arm, mindful of the hot coffees they’re both holding. He sobers up when he remembers the next part of his dream. Tommy notices this change in Bucks demeanor and his face becomes serious as he patiently waits for Buck to continue.

Buck takes a steadying breath and says “Then you came over and I asked you to move in with me and you said no because you ‘know how this ends’ and I was gonna break your heart because I was just excited about the newness of being with a guy or whatever and ‘your first isn’t your last’ and then….you broke up with me.”

Tommy’s eyebrows are crinkled again as he processes this.

He shakes his head as if to clear it, “….hang on none of that makes sense. First of all, glad to know dream me is a psychic. Second of all, i wouldn’t call a six month long relationship new. Third of all, thats kinda messed up to say your first queer relationship can’t be your last. Hell, some people have their first ever relationship be their last! It’s not that unusual. Fourth of all, why would I break my own heart and yours over something that might not happen? Fifth of all…”

Buck’s smiling in amusement now, “I don’t think anyone has ever gotten past second of all…”

Tommy barely stops as he says, “Hush - fifth of all! I wouldn’t move in with you simply because where the hell would I put my car lift and Muay Thai ring? Your ‘dinning room’?” He puts air quotes around dinning room, nearly spilling his coffee in the process.

Buck is still smiling as he teases, “Are you done? There’s no sixth of all?”

Tommy sighs and sits for a moment before saying, “Well I’m sure if you gave me a moment I could think of one…”

Buck snorts a quick laugh and mutters “Uh huh” before taking a sip of his coffee.

Tommy’s shaking his head again, this time more in disbelief. “Dream me wasn’t thinking right. Like I’d break up with the guy I love because I’m worried he might one day break up with me.”

Buck freezes. He looks over at Tommy and asks, “….you love me?”

Tommy also freezes, his coffee mug stilled at his lips. His voice goes up an octave when he responds, “…..what?”

There’s a slight tinge of awe in Bucks voice when he says, “You said ‘the guy I love’. Do you love me?”

Tommy looks over at Buck and there’s this hopeful and almost timid look on his face. He remembers the worry he felt when he came up the stairs and saw Buck sitting up in bed, gasping as if recovering from a nightmare. Then he realizes something: Buck may have said it was a strange dream but in truth, it was a nightmare. The idea that Tommy might walk away from him. Might give up on him. Might hurt him. Just like his past relationships did. Tommy can’t have him thinking that for a second longer.

He looks Buck straight in the eye, hoping the sincerity of what he says next comes through loud and clear: “Of course I love you, Evan. More than anything.”

Buck’s smile grows impossibly brighter, his blue eyes shining as he says, “I love you, too.”

Tommy has to kiss him about it. He lifts his left hand up to cradle Buck’s head and leans in, Buck meeting him half way. Buck lifts his right hand to gently rest on Tommy’s bicep, then moves it to his waist. The kiss is gentle, warm, loving.

When they break, they lean their foreheads together and sigh contentedly.

Tommy breaks the comfortable silence first “So…dream you sees a future with me? What about real you?”

Buck huffs a laugh and says, “Yeah, that part is true, definitely.”

Tommy knows his whole face is crinkling as he says, “Okay. Good. Me too.”

Buck smiles dopily back, “Good.”

Tommy takes a deep breath as he gathers the courage to ask his next question. It helps that their foreheads are still resting together and he can’t actually see Bucks face when he says, “So. Evan. How about you move in with me?”

Buck pulls back quickly, and for a moment Tommy panics, but he relaxes when he sees the look of wonder on Buck’s face “Seriously?”

Tommy tries to control the smile on his face as he dryly says, “No I’m making a really cruel joke,” Then rolls his eyes and laughs, “Yes seriously! I have plenty of space, the 118 isn’t much further from my place than it is from here, and well, I like the idea of having you around all the time.”

“Why be apart when we can be together?” Buck asks, still smiling.

Tommy strokes his left hand through Bucks hair, “Exactly! So? What do you say? Will you move in with me?”

Buck practically jumps on Tommy, coffee mugs be damned, and laughs“Yes. Yes! Tommy, absolutely!”

The mugs get moved safely to one of the nightstands as they spend their morning celebrating this new milestone. It’s a pretty amazing start to their sixth month anniversary.

[lesbianwyllravengard]

uh this wyllstarion fic is fic'ing that's for damn sure.

[maaxverstappen]

cant stop thinking about lando as the f1 social media admin and him slowly getting more and more obsessed with oscar as the season goes on. he's just flustered all the time around oscar when he's working a gp. fans start to notice the f1 admin is posting way more oscar than other drivers. lando editing graphics of oscar for his first win, sending him a dm to congratulate n not expecting a reply (oscar does reply)

[ebenelephant]

fic premise: frank castle, wade wilson, and logan howlett at a support group for single parents. none of them know about each other's secret identities. frank has an extra layer of shit to deal with in terms of his feelings about parenting an (aged down) amy, but he's trying his best and knows he wasn't a great dad last time. wade has his crippling self worth issues but honestly a better support system than any of them (ntw and yukio babysit little ellie sometimes). logan's always a little sketchy about how exactly he came to have custody of an eight year old girl, and he has clear anger issues, but the fact that they've met his grown daughter (rogue) puts them all at ease a bit.

[logansgaar]

the more I'm thinking about this "Bucky Barnes is a mutant who just happened to have a mutation that kinda looked like the super soldier serum's affects" AU the more it makes plausible sense with everything we know about mutants across the marvel cinematic omg

Dormant mutant genetics can be triggered by one of two things: extreme torturous circumstances or exposure to an Infinity Stone (evidence: this is how Wade Wilson and Wanda Maximoff respectively had their x genes triggered.) Pick your poison, Bucky was exposed to both of these things around the same time. He was literally forced to build weapons made from the Tesseract's energy like all the other POWs were, Bucky had extensive exposure to Tesseract radiation (also something Shuri canonically confirms). Bucky was also undergoing extreme conditions being worked to death, he had pneumonia before any of Zola's experiments even began and was on deaths door... how did a man who was practically dead already survive the intensely traumatic experience of having the serum when many men had died on Zola's table before him? Even before Bucky makes it onto Zola's table, a guard beats him nearly to death, breaking his ribs, because he's not strong enough to work anymore due to his pneumonia.

Why did Zola pick Bucky? Out of all the able-bodied men available, after a string of previous stronger men, Zola picked the one who was basically already dead? He risked exposure to a guy with an infectious disease no less who'd just been brutally beaten within an inch of his life with a fucking empty bomb shell thing?, to the point warring inmates teamed up to murder the guard in front of the whole camp, damn the consequences? Gabe Jones didn't think Bucky was going to make it another day and yet he survives without medical treatment, in awful dirty cold damp conditions in the cell, and even less food due to the group punishment for the guard's death for an indeterminate length of time before somehow ending up in Zola's lab.

Unless Bucky was already displaying unusual phenomenon. He was suffering with extreme exhaustion, pneumonia, broken ribs, deep contusions, likely the beginnings of body wasting through the disease and lack of food...his survival is shocking, I think anyone would be shocked to see a man with all that going on getting up and just continuing to live for who knows how long, Zola actively working on replicating the serum might've taken an interest because of this.

What were the Soviet soldiers doing all the way out there where they picked up Bucky? Why did they pick him up? Someone smarter than me also deduced that Bucky likely got himself out and walked some distance before the Soviets found him. Zola hadn't had time to get any messages out as far as we know and his deal with the Colonel didn't start until after Bucky was "gone". Unless the Soviets saw some real freaky shit going on with this random American soldier missing an arm, potentially the same thing Zola saw in the prison camp, and thought hmm we're not sure we want to give him back to the Americans who already have their super soldier (proto cold war with super soldiers instead of nukes...)

From what we know so far, none of the serums currently in use come from Bucky's blood. They come from the multiple different attempts to replicate Steve's serum. The CIA developed a lot of them and Isaiah Bradley's was just the one that happened to work, and Isaiah came before Howard's, and we can infer from that that all current serums stem from Isaiah's blood. Alexei says his serum was developed from stolen blood from a "semi-stable" CIA test subject, which was most likely Isaiah, since not only is Bucky's considered the most stable serum after Steve's, it's hinted that Zola lost whatever he might've done to Bucky when the facility exploded. He was given no time to pack anything up and would've had no way of knowing a possible serum used on Bucky worked at all given Bucky was still strapped down when Steve arrived. It seems unlikely HYDRA never tried to replicate Bucky's serum and it seems they weren't able to, I have two theories about that: they didn't have an Infinity Stone anymore, which Shuri believes was used in the place of Vita Rays, so they couldn't get whatever Bucky's got cooking to work on anyone else for that reason, or Bucky was never a super soldier at all, with no serum in his blood to attempt synthesizing from.

Just for fun: Bucky teleports. He just...pops around. This is complete crack but a common thing with Bucky is him just disappearing and reappearing in new locations that are implausible to reach even for a super soldier. And it's not just weird editing post-production either, characters react to it, it's a deliberate plot detail. Bucky's somehow able to disappear in seconds in front of T'Challa, the Black Panther, and a lobby full of people and none of them know where he's gone. It was a helipad btw. He somehow ended up on the helipad... dunno how he got there. Bucky jumped off a building with nowhere to go and a second later Steve looked, had a clear unobstructed view, and couldn't see where Bucky went. He does it more as WS than Bucky, so maybe as Bucky he's just not consciously aware he can do it so he doesn't, like the whole "I'm right handed so I don't always think to use [the arm]" thing whereas WS uses everything available to him.

Going with the Infinity Stone exposure theory, the stone Bucky was exposed to was the space stone, and the one Wanda was exposed to was first off the mind stone, and she had mind powers (along with the energy we've seen from all the stones) up until after the Infinity Wars where she came into contact with all the Infinity stones then boom, upgrade. Bucky gets shot once by the Power stone, that's it.

[mrspasser]

Never gonna give you up 5+1

I don't think I ever posted this fanfic here, so I'm here to fix that.

1.

Never was too soon for a repeat of tonight’s experience, Derek decided as he braced himself against the sharp corner. The wheels of the Jeep skidded on the gravel, making the back of the car slide out. There was no need for them to drive this fast, not anymore. Leftover adrenaline made for a heavy foot on the gas, apparently. The engine whined as they cut free of the forest, trading gravel for blacktop. Gradually they reduced speed, until they were driving at a pace well within the limits. 

“Think you can hit play for me, big guy?” Stiles asked in an upbeat tone. “Without getting blood all over my iPod, if you can.”

The look Derek sent him was cutting, but Stiles was long since immune for any angry stare he received from the werewolf. With all his energy going into healing, Derek decided it wasn’t worth it to get into it with Stiles over something so small. He pressed his left hand against the flap of skin that was only loosely covering his ribs on his right side and reached out with his free hand to the battered iPod crammed into the hole that used to house the radio of the Jeep. The radio was one of the car parts that fell victim to the crash with the Kanima and with some help of Boyd Stiles had hooked up his iPod directly to the car’s speakers. 

The Alpha werewolf didn’t bother to check what playlist it was, he just hit the large button in the middle and settled back into his seat, gritting his teeth against the pain the movement caused. 

The sounds of an eighties synthesizer filled the car, drums coming in alternately from the left and right speaker, immediately followed by a peal of laughter from the car’s owner. Derek bit through the agony and pushed forward again, cutting off the music abruptly just when the lyrics started. Stiles didn’t say anything, though it took a minute before he stopped chuckling quietly. 

When they got to the loft, Stiles followed him inside, although Derek hadn’t asked him to. He hadn’t told him not to either, which was probably why the teen did it. Not that Stiles bothered with doing what people told him to, not when it came to Derek. The boy was pack in all the ways that counted, except for heeding his Alpha’s commands.

Derek let himself fall on the threadbare couch, still holding his skin more or less in the right place to knit itself together again. Behind him, Stiles rummaged around in the kitchen, emerging a little while later with two bottles of water and a couple of energy bars. He dropped the food and one of the bottles on the couch next to the werewolf, easily within reach. Then he sat down on the armrest furthest from Derek, twisting the cap of his own bottle and gulping the contents down eagerly. The werewolf watched the boy’s Adams apple bop with each swallow, his eyes catching on the long line of his throat.

Stiles wiped his mouth and looked down at Derek, intelligent eyes roaming over the werewolf’s bloodied torso. “You going to be okay?” he asked, not really sounding like he needed an answer, so Derek didn’t give him one. “Thought so,” the boy confirmed anyway, and patted Derek’s shin twice as he got up. “I’m gonna give Roscoe a wash. I think there are bits of skin stuck to the passenger seat. Gross!”

2. 

“Gonna have to walk a little slower, big guy,” Stiles complained, sounding a little winded as he picked his way through the undergrowth a few paces behind Derek. He grunted dismissively, though he held his step a little anyway.

Derek might have wondered why he was always the one stuck with Stiles on a stake out, if the math wasn’t so easy. Being human, the boy was the weakest of the pack, physically speaking at least. And with Derek as Alpha and therefore strongest, it was only logical that they paired up. Besides, it wasn’t like Derek had his pick of people to go on stakeout with tonight. There wasn’t a clear threat, this was just Derek acting on a hunch. ‘Being paranoid’, Scott had said. ‘I’m not messing up my nails in the woods tonight’, was Erica’s reaction. Boyd had only told him to call when there was trouble. Derek was fully prepared to go alone tonight. It was his idea after all and he was pretty sure he could handle whatever he would encounter. Yet Stiles hadn’t let him. He didn’t offer to tag along, he just did.

When asked, the werewolf would say he hated being alone with Stiles. The boy was never not moving and only silent when sleeping. Scratch that, even asleep Stiles wasn’t silent. He was a source of constant movement, night or day, always in the periphery of Derek’s attention. It was impossible not to watch Stiles, even more so when they were alone.

Walking through the woods at night and trying to keep a low profile was also pretty much impossible with Stiles, a fact proved when Derek grabbed the boy’s elbow not for the first time that night to keep him upright. If it were up to him, he would’ve gladly let him faceplant in the leaves, but they were making enough noise as it was already. 

“Do you think you could be any louder?” he hissed, shoving Stiles along the path. 

“Do you think you could be any rougher?” Stiles threw back in a low voice, rubbing his hand over where Derek had grabbed his arm. He wouldn’t bruise, Derek hadn’t grabbed him that hard; chances were he was just sour about missing out on game night with Scott. He’d heard them talking about it yesterday, Stiles lamenting about him and Scott needing a boy’s night with pizza, energy drinks and playing video games in their underwear. Derek didn’t understand why Stiles would choose a night in the woods with him over that.

“Now what?” Stiles stopped at the ridge, looking out into the forest on the hill below them.

“Now we wait,�� Derek answered, dropping down into a crouch and tugging the boy down with him. Stiles fell to his butt with a grunt, but pulled his legs under him a moment later, jostling Derek’s shoulder when he came up to his knees. 

“You see anything?” Derek didn’t answer that, nor the next question: “Hear anything?”

Stiles rolled his eyes at the werewolf’s lack of communication and then shrugged his backpack off. He pulled the bag in front of him and opened up the zipper. At first Derek ignored the apple that was presented to him, but Stiles only shook it in emphasis until he took it. 

For a few minutes, Stiles was as quiet as he ever got. Which meant that the sounds of him chewing on his own apple mixed in with the sounds of the forest. 

When the humming started, Derek shut him up at first. It helped for a few minutes, but not long. Because the wind was in their favour, Derek gave up on shushing Stiles: it was easier to just tune him out and concentrate on the sounds that reached him from the forest. 

It took a good while before the words showed up in his mind. Bits and pieces of song lyrics just floating around his brain, easy to ignore. It wasn’t until he caught himself starting to hum the same tune that he rounded on the boy next to him. “Damn it, Stiles!”

Stiles simply laughed softly. “It’s quite the earworm, isn’t it?”

3.

“Give me a second, I’m just gonna… Yeah, I’ve got it all right here,” Stiles said through the phone, clicking around on his computer. “Whole list of it, actually. I’ll send you an email right now.”

Derek hung up the phone and grabbed the laptop from the coffee table. It was a refurbished laptop that Stiles had made him buy a few weeks ago, claiming that ‘no self-respectable Alpha in the twenty first century could go without, especially if they don’t want to say goodbye to their frigging flip phone’. 

The mockery of his phone by his pack was getting old. The device maybe wasn’t as up to date as the other phones, but it held up in a fight and that was something Derek valued more over the use of the latest social media apps. However, contrary to popular belief, Derek wasn’t completely unaware of pop culture, which was why he immediately recognised the video for what it was.

It was hidden in the list of websites Stiles sent him. Derek was working his way through the links one by one, working up a steady appreciation of Stiles' research skills, when his laptop suddenly started playing music after he clicked the fourth link on the list. 

He almost called Stiles to tell him off, but settled for aggressively closing down the browser window. 

The other links were all normal, providing him with the information he asked for and then some. 

4.

“You want anything, hon?” The waitress directed the question to Scott, who placed his order of a large breakfast spread with an equally large smile. She wasn’t placated by it and Derek resigned himself to giving her an extra big tip for putting up with his raucous pack on her early morning shift. 

“I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse,” Stiles said to the table at large, patting his stomach. 

“Should’ve ordered something else than bacon then,” Isaac deadpanned from across from him.

Stiles smiled impishly. “My love for bacon is strong, I can’t help it.”

“Can you make bacon from horses?” Scott wondered out loud and that set off a whole discussion about the consummation of horse meat.

Derek let it all wash over him, leaning back in his chair. His pack was fine, all were whole, or whole again at least. Isaac was wearing a track shirt that Stiles had lying in the back of his Jeep, replacing his own shirt that was ripped to pieces. There was blood on his jeans still, Derek could smell it from across the table, but it wasn’t visible against the dark fabric and the wounds were all healed. Erica sported a similar situation, also with mostly invisible bloodstains on her dark clothes, as did Boyd. The blood wasn’t all theirs. Normally, Derek would have told them to go home, wash up, but this Denny’s was closer and growling stomachs had won over the urge to get cleaned up. Or rather, Stiles had strongarmed him into buying his pack breakfast, saying that it was good for bonding and empty stomachs alike.

Not bothering to get in on the conversation, Derek let his eyes glide over his pack members, ensuring himself once again that everyone was in one piece. He got stuck on Stiles, distracted by the way his T-shirt pulled taut when he moved his arms behind his back to stretch. Derek hadn’t seen the article of clothing before, it had been hidden underneath a grey striped hoodie; he guessed that was ruined too. It was a black T-shirt with a jumble of letters and symbols on the front. It looked like computer code, or something equally confusing. Undoubtedly it was some pop culture reference, or a bad pun. He didn’t care enough to ask for the meaning of it, yet his eyes kept returning to the text on the shirt, even after their food arrived. 

He recognised a word in the top line from the abbreviations the pack used in their text messages; sometimes it was as if they were allergic to vowels. The letters ‘nvr’ probably spelled never. And below that, was the word ‘annog’, which could be a made up word or it was simply ‘gonna’ spelled backwards. Then it said ‘forgive’, subtract four, and on the bottom something with ‘me’, ‘you’ and ‘splitting soup’. It was complete nonsense, that’s what it was.

Eventually, Stiles caught him looking. “You like the shirt, big guy?” He took a bite of a strip of bacon, cocking his head as he waited for Derek to answer.

“It’s ridiculous. It doesn’t even make sense.”

Stiles grinned. “Sure it does. You just have to figure it out.”

Next to him, Boyd took a look at Stiles’ shirt and scoffed. “Isn’t that joke ancient by now?”

“Classics never go out of style,” Stiles argued, pointing the strip of bacon at Derek’s second. “Besides, I like it. It’s got meaning.”

“Like your stripper mom’s T-shirt?” Erica asked snidely. “Because that one’s just rubbish.”

“Nah,” Stiles smirked and then he winked at Derek. “This one has a better roll to it, doesn’t it, oh Alpha mine?”

It clicked for Derek in that moment and he let out a long suffering sigh. “I should rip your throat out…” 

“With your teeth, I know,” Stiles finished for him, happily munching on another strip of bacon.

5.

Up until now Derek had always thought that brownies were something to eat, not annoying little creatures to kill. Or, well, that’s not exactly true. He knew they were mythical creatures, but he’d thought they were just that. Mythical, not real. And how bad could they be if they ended up being real? Pretty damn annoying, it turned out. They didn’t look like much, but they had razor sharp teeth and equally sharp nails that cut through clothes and skin like miniature knives through butter. And like a wolf pack, their strength was in numbers. However, he refused to lose to something small and annoying, so, in the end, the wolf pack won. 

Derek looked around at his pack, who were panting and bloody, but otherwise okay. Erica was frantically raking her fingers through her hair, cursing angrily at the loose hairs she brushed out with it. “Those fuckers cut a chunk of my hair!”

Boyd diligently looked at the problem area, declaring it wasn’t so bad. Erica huffed in disdain. “No offence, honey, but you haven’t got a hair on your head. What the hell do you pretend to know about it?”

She turned to the other available girl, Allison, and let the hunter fuss over her hair. Derek was long past the point of wondering how the hell that happened. His pack included a hunter, a banshee and a former kamina, he'd learned to not question it anymore.

He patted his pockets, routinely checking for his car keys. Those he found, though they threatened to fall through a tear in his jeans any minute. He came up short when feeling around for his phone. The pocket on that side was cut clean through, empty of its contents. Derek rumbled in annoyance, getting a quick inquiring glance from Boyd. 

"Lost my phone," he explained quickly, already stalking back to the area where he'd been for most of the fight. It was where Stiles was sitting, sagged out against a tree and scrolling through something on his phone. The boy was holding the cuff of his sleeve pressed gingerly against a small cut above his lip, otherwise he seemed fine and Derek didn't have to worry about him.

Sniffing out his phone turned out to be harder than he thought. The ground was covered in quickly disintegrating brownie bodies and while he could appreciate the lack of clean up they would have to do, the smell of decay and blood covered up the other smells in the area.

Derek planted his hands on his hips with a huff, scanning the forest floor around him. His phone was black and pretty small: it could be anywhere. He glanced at the smartphone in Stiles' hand, with its shiny firetruck red cover. Obnoxious and flashy as it was, it would be pretty easy to find.

"What's up, big guy?" Stiles asked from his spot by the tree. "Looking for something?"

"Dropped my phone," Derek sighed, already making plans in his head to drop by the mall in the next town over to get a new phone. He wondered if they still sold flip phones. 

"Oh wait, I'll call you so we can hear it ring," Stiles said, clambering to his feet and moving his fingers over his touch screen.

Sure enough, moments later there was a song playing, a few meters to his left. "That's not my ringtone," Derek said sharply, his eyebrows climbing up to his hairline when he recognised the song.

“It is when I call,” Stiles answered gleefully, watching as Derek went off in the direction of the sound. The warm baritone of the singer was cut off when the werewolf bent down to retrieve his phone, buried half underneath a dead brownie. He wiped it on his jeans and then flipped it open. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” Stiles called out.

“Figuring out how to delete this ringtone,” Derek bit out, tapping the keys forcefully. 

“Hey, no, why would you do that?” Stiles ambled closer and for a moment Derek forgot to tune out his scent. It was a habit that his mother had taught him when he was young; with their keen sense of smell and hearing there was little privacy in a pack: it was common courtesy to try and tune the others out as much as possible in normal, day to day interactions. Derek did it with his own pack too, as much out of self-preservation as in consideration of their privacy. His pack consisted of teenagers, they were generally a whirlwind of strong emotions and unwarranted arousal. He would get whiplash if he’d be able to scent it all. Right now, Stiles smelled of disappointment and vague embarrassment. 

Derek frowned. “Because it’s a cheesy song. A joke.”

The smell of embarrassment got a little stronger. “It’s our thing,” Stiles said with a shrug that wasn’t as casual as he probably hoped. “It’s our song, sourwolf” he tacked on with a smirk, also a bit strained.

“It’s a love song,” Derek said slowly, puzzled, his fingers stilling on the phone keys. It wasn’t like he knew how to change the ringtone anyway. Before now he didn’t even know you could add personalised ringtones to a caller.

“Yeah, well…” Stiles cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. He was also getting quite red in the face, yet still Derek couldn’t look away from him. “It’s the sentiment that counts.”

“The sentiment,” Derek repeated, still confused by the situation.

“The sentiment, you know, the message? The idea the song conveys?”

“I know what sentiment means, Stiles,” he said, more gently than he usually was with the teen. “But still… a love song.”

“I know that,” said Stiles, still with red cheeks. “And I know that we,” he gestured with his hand between them, “are not… that.”

Derek pressed down on the sudden urge to ask what exactly they were, if not that. 

“I just think that, it’s just,” Stiles floundered and then he shrugged somewhat defeated. “It’s something that you need to hear, every now and then.” A silence fell between them, one loaded with something Derek couldn’t quite figure out. Not yet.

Stiles took a deep breath and held out his hand. “Give me that, I’ll change it back to your normal, boring ringtone.”

Derek shook his head and put his phone in his jacket pocket, a pocket that was still in one piece. With a nudge to Stiles' shoulder he started to walk away, towards the spot where they parked their cars. Stiles followed him, smelling content and happy, with his lips pressed together to hide a smile.

+1

Derek hadn’t known he had a first aid kit in his bathroom. Yet there it was, neatly tucked away in the cabinet underneath the sink. The rectangle box felt heavy, like it was stuffed full with all kinds of items a self-healing werewolf would never need. 

“Why do I have this?” Derek asked as he walked back into the room, knowing for sure he never bought it, so someone else had to. Someone named Stiles, probably. 

“Because you have humans in your pack,” Stiles answered from the sofa, making grabby hands at the kit before Derek was even close enough. He took the box, putting it in his lap and opening it immediately. “There should be ice packs in the fridge,” Stiles directed without looking up.

And indeed there were. Derek grabbed two and a towel, making his way back to Stiles. He carefully sat down by the foot that the boy had put up on the sofa. His sneaker was already off, but he still had his sock on. The werewolf carefully placed the ice packs on both sides of Stiles’ swollen ankle, wrapping them in place with the towel. 

Meanwhile, Stiles was wrapping his arm up. It was his lower left arm, making it not too hard for him to do himself; the bandage was a little wonky, but it’d do for now. It was just a large scrape anyway, the bandage was mostly to keep the wound clean. 

That left the cut on his eyebrow. Derek watched Stiles feeling around the cut with his fingers of his one hand, while holding a butterfly bandage with his other. It wouldn’t work, but he waited until Stiles grimaced and locked eyes with him, a crooked, bloody butterfly bandage still in hand. 

Derek leaned forward and picked a clean bandage from the kit. “This one, right?”

Stiles nodded and kept his eyes on Derek when he scooted closer until he was seated next to the boy’s hip. The cut was already cleaned and disinfected, all that was left was to place the bandage. Maybe two, Derek thought, as he eyed the cut critically. Stiles had said it wasn’t deep enough to warrant stitches and he’d gotten hurt often enough to know, Derek presumed. It didn’t sit easy with him, though. He didn’t like to see his pack get hurt, especially the humans because they didn’t heal as quickly as the werewolves did. And, he didn’t like seeing Stiles get hurt. 

Derek carefully placed the butterfly bandage across the cut. Stiles smelled of blood and pain, though the boy assured him the latter was mostly from his ankle. Spraining an ankle hurt, Derek knew from experience, even though for him the pain was always short lived. Stiles closed his eyes as Derek put a second bandage in place and covered them with a larger bandaid. “There, that should do it.” 

“Thanks,” Stiles said softly as Derek put everything back in the kit and quickly tidied away the mess. 

“Want to watch a movie?” The question came somewhat unexpected for Stiles, yet he smiled and nodded quickly. Derek tossed him the remote so he could select a movie from the streaming services the boy had set up himself a while back and went into the kitchen to grab them something to drink. 

When he came back Stiles had a superhero movie lined up, one that Derek hadn’t seen yet but he knew Stiles had. He pulled the coffee table closer to the sofa so Stiles could reach his drink and then sat down, carefully placing Stiles' injured foot in his lap. The boy’s heartbeat ticked up and his cheeks coloured red, yet he didn’t say anything. Derek nodded for him to press play on the movie and gently eased his hand a little ways up Stiles’ pant leg, just above the ice packs, to make skin contact and leach away his pain. 

“Thanks for coming back,” Stiles said quietly over the sounds of the opening scene. “And taking care of me.”

Derek glanced at him, at the way Stiles held his eyes glued to the tv screen to avoid looking at him directly. He waited a beat for Stiles to take a sip of his soda. “That goes without saying, Stiles,” he emphasised then. “I wasn’t gonna run around and desert you.”

Stiles made a choking sound and sprayed his drink everywhere. Derek kept his foot in place while the boy flailed and laughed, wiping the soda from his face with his sleeve. “Damn it, Derek! It came out of my nose!”

You can also find this fic here on Wattpad or on A03.

[steddieunderdogfics]

for bat!eddie:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58013323#main

From The Pale Lips Of The Youth Who Lay by beetlesandstars

@beetlesandstarss

Rating: Teens and Up

7,149 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: s4 ending rewrite, Bat Eddie Munson, Resurrection, but make it WACKY, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Trans Eddie Munson, Gay Eddie Munson, Sharing a Bed, shower, Fluff and Humor, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Crack Treated Seriously, Coming Out

Summary:

“You don’t have rabies, right?” Steve asks suddenly, shooting him a suspicious look, like it would be Eddie’s fault if he had rabies. Eddie squawks at him, flapping his wings angrily. “Sorry,” Steve says, holding a hand up. “Just checking. Robin would kill me if I got rabies and, like, died.”  - Eddie Munson turns into a bat and lands himself in Indianapolis, several months after his supposed death. Now he's got to figure out how to get his body back.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was Bat!Eddie.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[drtwit]

Miraculous Ladybug - Miraculous Menaces AU: Bugaboo Got A Boo-Boo

Miraculous Menaces AU

Chapter Summary:

In the aftermath of an easy akuma battle, Marinette suffers a grievous injury. It's a good thing that nothing important is gonna happen while she recovers.

A collection of vignettes covering an AU where Chat becomes Hawkmoth's partner in crime. At first, Adrien thought that the day he found out that his father was the supervillain terrorizing the people of Paris was the worst day of his life, but in retrospect, it might have been the one change needed to save his family. Because it was also the day that both of them realized that, when they don't need to be Adrien and Gabriel Agreste, they're both fucking goobers. Follow the adventures of Hawkmoth, Chat Noir, and their reluctant assistant who doesn't get paid enough, Nathalie, as they try to navigate life as a supervillain family. And pray for Ladybug's sanity as she suffers their antics.

[r0semaryt3a]

So, a while ago I got my sister into bsd and she promptly fell for both Fitzgerald (with absolutely no swaying or manipulation from me) and Chuuya. And, of course, as the lovely younger sibling I am: I’m writing a crack fic for her to cringe at. “Chuuya x Reader x Fitzgerald 2020 Wattpad style, love triangle, crack taken seriously” was certainly not something I thought I’d ever write. Yet, here we are. So take this (very) small extract from “boats agaisnt the tide” the worst thing I’ve ever committed to writing.

I also want to add that I wanted to mess around with the narration; by mess around I mean the narrator is constantly insulting you. Enjoy!

—

Moving to Yokohama was at one point in your life: the best choice you’d ever made. That point had long since passed.

Days blurred into one, weeks into months and so on so forth. It was like the world had been bleached of all colour; just the same dull drivel remained. Though, you weren’t one to complain. Once the hustle and bustle of your move had calmed, you fell into routine as effortlessly as breathing and (for the most part) you were content with this.

Today was Monday, the half torn calendar nailed to your living room wall telling you as much, which meant today was grocery day. Carpet fell to tile as you sauntered to the fridge, its garish light greeting you. With your eyes scanning every shelf a sigh left your lips, probably shouldn’t have skipped over last weeks run. If the plethora of empty shelves and out of date packets starring up at you were anything to go by at least. Now aware of the complete haul your prior ignorance had resulted in you needing, you return to the room. You took good care of your apartment, the small 4 room space was sufficient for your mundane and meaningless life even if your bathroom sink had been blocked for months, or your main source of comfort was a dingy sofa bed you’d bargained for at a car boot sale. It was home and it was as good a home as you were going to get.

Or at least until you’d saved up enough to get out of it. You actually had quite the pretty penny to your name, you just lacked the impulse control to keep it long.

—

It’s not much at all but I’m having a blast writing the narrator

@bestrongbebrave49 you have no idea what’s coming for you

[lavenderauthor]

Title: Tony's Pup-Caused Problem by LavenderAuthor (20.8k)

Rating: General

Fandom: Marvel

Relationship: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Avengers Team Members & Peter Parker, Avengers Team Members & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Tony Stark

Summary:  Tony, after years of having barely any signs of being an omega apart from mild heats and a mild scent, started to act as if he had a pup and began to produce milk. He was told it was due to the constant presence of a pup he's apparently claimed as his.

To say he was confused was an understatement.

(Or Five Times Peter Was A Puppy and The One Time He Wasn't)

[iateyourfav]

Beastification - Chapter 1

Cid sends the Bad Batch on a mission to rescue a certain Mr Beast from the grasp of Jabba the Hutt. After they retrieve him, something changes. There's something different about Mr Beast and they can't tell for certain what it is. Will they ever get rid of Mr Beast?

The Bad Batch x Mr Beast

Tags: sfw, Crack fic, slow burn, Mr Beast AU, I'm trying to be serious about this.

CW: the y/nification of Mr Beast, mentions of child abduction, canon violence, indication of mpreg (sfw), Mr Beast talks to a invisible camera, Lore breaking content

Words: 881

Will update on Wednesdays and Sundays

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | ...

Read on ao3

Cid hadn‘t told them much about the mission, as usual, but still, something felt fishy about this one. What was most suspicious was that Cid had this slight smirk on her face the entire briefing while she neglected details on whatever would await them at their destination in favor of talking about how they would thank her for this mission once they come back.

Tensions were high on the Marauder. Everyone hoped Cids indications would mean better payment this time around. While Omega was asleep in her Gunner Mount/Room the rest of the batch gathered in the cockpit.

Wrecker, who sat in the copilot seat, broke the silence first. „I don‘t know what’s going on with Cid and this mission. I just hope we‘re gonna get paid and not killed.“ He crossed his arms, pouting.

„It will be a rather simple extraction. To be completely honest, calling it a pick-up would be more fitting. We will meet the target on Mos Eisley. Though I do wonder how they ended up there and why we are sent to bring them back. This mission seems to mock our abilities“ Tech replied, sounding just slightly angry at this extraction not having to make use of his heightened intelligence. „We‘re approaching Tatooine.“

Hunter leaned against the back wall, brows furrowed. He didn’t like this. Usually, when they were sent on simpler missions, only two of them would go, but Cid insisted they would need all hands on deck on this one. It didn‘t make sense to him. Deep in thought, he almost didn‘t notice the small hands pulling on his arm. 

„It‘s gonna be fine, Hunter, don‘t worry. It could be fun!“ Omega smiled up at him, excited as ever. Of course, she had never been to Tatooine before, so that fact alone made her excited to go through on this mission. Though that excitement quickly vanished.

“You‘re staying on the ship. The mission is simple, but we‘re not gonna take you into Jabba's Palace. That place is swarming with scum.“ And with that, her smile dropped.

Hunter knelt down to be able to talk to her face to face. „It‘s for the better. It‘s nasty in there, you wouldn‘t wanna see it anyways.“ Her patted her on the shoulder before standing up again. By this time they already entered the atmosphere of the planet and were getting ready to land in front of Jabba‘s Palace.

Shortly after leaving the ship the batch found themselves in front of the massive doors leading into the Hutt's Palace.

“I‘ve only heard horror stories about this place. Can‘t say I‘m excited to go in there.“ Echo commented with an already disgusted look on his face, despite not even having entered the building yet. „It‘s gonna be a quick job. We‘ll be in and out in no time. We just pay the bail and leave with the target, that‘s it.“ Hunter responded.

This triggered an annoyed huff from Wrecker. „Great, another mission where we can‘t blow anything up.“ The gates were opened for them and quickly after placed in front of Jabba to state their business.

„We‘re here to bail out one of your captives.“ Hunter tried to keep the conversation short, not desiring to speak to the Hutt more than necessary. Tech handed over the payment to one of Jabba‘s servants at the same time, also wanting to leave as fast as possible. To nobody‘s surprise, all of them felt uneasy in an establishment like this, with bounty hunters all around.

The protocol droid finally translated whatever Jabba was saying. „Your prisoner will be brought up shortly. Jabba wishes for you to leave with him as quickly as you can, he can not bear to hear any more of his voice.“

Just then their target was brought in, a sight to behold. He walked in, with the most dazzling blue eyes any of them had ever seen. Body moving in a perfect curve, hair just shaggy enough, and beard perfectly trimmed. He looked at them, one after another, through perfectly curled lashes. 

It took Hunter hitting his shoulder for Wrecker to snap back out of this state of hypnosis. „Wrecker, get him.“

His cheeks turned slightly red before going up to the hostage and taking him from Jabba‘s guards. They immediately made their way towards the exit. Wrecker tried to ignore the fact that he was guiding this incredibly attractive man out of imprisonment.

The man‘s head turned towards him, ever so slightly and elegantly, like every movement he had seen from him so far. „THANK YOU.“ he whispered. This wasn‘t directed at them as a group, but exclusively at Wrecker, making his face grow even hotter. He could only muster up a grunt as a response, feeling flustered.

Omega waited for them in front of the Marauder.

“I told you to stay inside.“ Hunter shouted towards the girl, slightly irritated. „I‘m fine. I got bored so I wanted to at least wait outside for you.“ she yelled back. Then, her glance shifted from Hunter to the hostage her brothers were bringing with them. Her eyes widened, jaw dropped. 

Everybody stopped in their tracks, expecting the worst from Omega‘s facial expression. A ambush, maybe. But her eyes rested on their acquired target.

“Woah, is that Mr Beast??????“

[dr-rabbit-3]

They got plushies of each other✨

[doctorprofessorsong]

Continuing with my quest to make the women of Supernatural kiss, have some Charlie/Billie

Charlie's dead, which definitely sucks. Especially because she went out in the dumbest way (seriously, she could fit through that window easy, peasy mac and cheesy). But that isn't even the worst part of her day. It turns out that God is actually a mediocre male writer who killed her early for plot purposes. Fridged in her own life. Her reaper, Billie, delivers the most devastating blow of all. She can't move on to the "other place" until her time comes or she might disrupt the order of the universe. Instead, Charlie is being tucked away in a pocket universe in the veil until the day she would have died in her own timeline. But Charlie's never one to let circumstances get her down. Especially when there are so many pretty reapers she can go down on instead.

[my-favourite-zhent]

Welcome Rugan Fuckers

This sideblog is dedicated to Rugan the Zhentarim agent from Baldur's Gate 3, with a smattering of general Zhentarim shenans.

Likes and follows from me via @void-singer

Find me on ao3 as unmoderated_zhentarim

To see the round robin abomination go here:

Tags:

#zhentarim clip

#zhentarim meme

#zhentil keep perverts

#my edits

#bg3 fanfic: new tricks

For my fanworks see below the cut.

My Fanfiction:

My Tav:

[earthtodora]

5 Days of Itafushi Halloween - Day 4

Summary: Yuuji's biggest problem in life is picking the right ice cream flavor. But apparently, life doesn't think that's a big enough issue, so it throws him into the zombie apocalypse. Oh, and then there's the matter of his inconveniently placed gay crush on the hot stranger who saved his life. What could go wrong?

Genre: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Crack, Humor, Smut

Yuuji was about to open his mouth again, not even sure what he was going to say, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. There was a figure - or what appeared to be a person - slowly creeping towards them.

And Yuuji normally wouldn't have questioned this. People wandered around sometimes. That wasn't uncommon.

And, okay, Yuuji wasn't exactly the most observant person in the world. He didn't pay too much attention to details. But, this guy, well, he didn't look so good. He was missing half his face, his eye hanging out of his socket, blood covering his clothes. And, well, the guy didn't have any shoes on either, but Yuuji tried not to judge people for that.

So, yeah, the guy didn't really look alive. He wasn't walking normally either. He was kind of hunched over and shuffling and making this weird moaning noise.

It seemed like the pretty girl at the counter wasn't as observant as Yuuji, because she didn't look like she was planning on doing anything. And, really, if you saw someone shuffling towards you, not acting like they were alive, and covered in blood, you'd be concerned, right? You'd at least say something.

But, no, the pretty girl just played on her phone, looking like she didn't have a care in the world.

It wasn't until the guy was just a few feet away from her that she even noticed anything was wrong.

She looked up and made eye contact with the dead dude and screamed, jumping back and falling out of her chair. But, honestly, it was a little too late for her, because the dude grabbed her and took a bite out of her shoulder.

"Oh shit!" Yuuji exclaimed, staring at the scene.

The pretty girl continued screaming, even though she was now missing a chunk of flesh from her body. The dead guy was eating her. Like, it wasn't pretty. It was gross. Really, really gross.