I’ll Be Big Enough So You Can’t Hit Me I’ll Be The Actress Starring In Your Bad Dreams

two of my favorite hcs that i have are that andrew is like an extreme car guy he fucking loves expensive fast cars but he also knows like jackshit. refuses to learn anything about them. originally bought the gs by asking for the most expensive thing he could get within his budget. the maserati gets a flat tire and andrew is staring down at the tire jack like he can explode it with his eyes. the engine makes a weird sound and he just plays the music louder and ignore it. and then u have neil who knows literally nothing about car breeds and what makes them impressive but is like magical when it comes to making them work. takes him 10 minutes to change a tire. he looks under the hood once and suddenly the engine light that was on for 2 months? disappears. he's like 'hey andrew have u ever checked the oil' '...' 'andrew you've had this car for 4 years'. they go on a drive one day and the maserati breaks down so neil shows him how to hotwire a car so they can drive to a nearby garage and andrew thinks it's the hottest thing he's ever done

Avengers Endgame, a rant

I’ve been thinking a lot about Endgame, probably too much and this is what I’ve concluded after having seen the movie 3 times, and having thought about it at length. I’m adding a read more tab because this is nearly 3k long.

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Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.

Fairest of Them All (Nine)

Sweet love scenes between Tony and his Alphas, plus Stucky bonding and a peek back into the rebel camp. 

This chapter picks up immediately after the last and also, it’s like 9k words so you know… enjoy!

SNOW WHITE MASTERLIST HERE

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“Can I scent you?” Steve was still braced over Tony’s body, his hand tight at his mate’s waist but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the other Alpha. “Can I– will you let me–” he cleared his throat and tried again, squeezing gratefully at Tony when the Omega trilled encouragingly. “Can I scent you?” 

James nodded shortly, just once, and held himself very still as Steve lifted away from Tony to come towards him with slow, careful steps. 

“Do you know each other?” Tony sat up and wiped the dirt from his pants as he watched his two Alphas. “Steve? What’s going on? Who’s Bucky?” 

“Do you remember when I told you about my friend, the one that went off to war and never came home?” Steve didn’t dare look away from the big brunette, watching closely in case the pale eyes slid red in anger. “His name was Bucky and he was a real big Alpha with light blue eyes.” 

“Well yes, but–” 

“Bucky’s real name was James.” Steve stopped no more than a foot away and took in a deep breath. “I knew him my whole life. Learned to ride horses with him and fight with him and we were always in trouble together and he was my second at my coming of age ceremony when I received my father’s blessing. He scented like moonflowers and snow and the sort of red that happens when the sun sets and I–” his voice caught. “–I left home to look for him after he went missing. I know it’s you, Buck. Can I scent you? Can I just–” 

It was a very real risk for one Alpha to step into another Alpha’s space uninvited, but it was a risk Steve took willingly, pushing close and tucking his nose into James’s throat and it took a moment, but James finally turned his head to scent Steve as well. 

And Tony wasn’t sure which of his Alphas broke first, which one of them made that disbelieving, anxious cry. He wasn’t sure if Steve collapsed and James had to catch him or it was James whose legs gave out and Steve who kept them from falling to the ground. 

But either way he couldn’t do much more than stare as both Alphas wrapped their arms around the other, Steve tangling his fingers in James’s hair and pushing it away from his face, James with a possessive hand at the back of Steve’s neck to hold him still so he could scent him over and over again. 

“I found you.” Steve whispered, pushing their foreheads together and clutching at James’s jacket. “I finally found you.” 

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canon/fanon batfam meets Mom Danny! Damian.

A villain attack throws the batfam in through a portal to another dimension. they go seeking out there alternatives to find a way back home. 

One of the specific things that they needs to bring them home is to have all of Their dimensions alternates in the same place. they have to go searching for Danny/Damian. What they find is not what they expected.

Damian/Danny was put up for adoption at a very young age and was later adopted at the age of three by fentons. he was with them until he was 16 and had to cover up the aftermath of one of Vlad's plots(deaged dan and Dani) that caused him to run away.

The Denny’s rule book: A simple guide

Denny’s is your local, friendly diner open 24 hours a day every day of the year. A place to relax and enjoy a breakfast at any hour, a fulfilling lunch or delicious dinner. All are welcome at Denny’s, and it’s your safest location, provided you follow this very simple guide for the nightly hours.

Never close your eyes in a Denny’s parking lot. 

Walk calmly to the door; you will hear sounds. Do not look behind you.

Always make sure the door closes behind you, unless it was already open when you arrived, in which case do not touch the door.

Never sit at the table farthest from the front door. Your server will sometimes try to seat you there. Politely refuse and ask for another table.

If you see a table with two salt-shakers, walk past it; that table is taken. Sit at the table directly across from it instead. 

Eat your pancakes. Box any leftovers; it would be a shame to waste food. It might attract something.

Do not, under any circumstance, look into the eyes of your own reflection in the bathroom.

If your server’s eyes turn black, do not panic; order a coffee with extra cream. Do not ask for a refill. Do not stare.

Think you recognize someone who just walked in? Best to ignore it. It’s probably not what it seems. They will proceed to sit at the table farthest from the door.

If you are walking past a Denny’s and you see yourself sitting in the corner booth through the window, keep walking. Do not eat at Denny’s that night.

Did you tip? You better double check. It’s only polite to leave a tip.

Do not ask questions. They will Notice.

Your local Denny’s is the perfect place for a delicious meal at all hours of the day. Hope you enjoy your next visit to any Denny’s Diner!

Ozai dies while Zuko is still in recovery. The investigation is relentless, but a killer is never found, until the new Fire Lord Iroh finally, in a mournful tone that only some believe, puts a stop to it. There are rumors of foul play on his end. No one dares to speak them.

What they don’t know:

Iroh is sitting by Zuko’s bedside, unable to look at the bandages around his eye without shaking, when Azula enters clean of blood but for the still-wet splatter on her clothes. She doesn’t acknowledge his presence at all, as she coos her to her brother’s unconscious body, “You’re safe now, Zuzu. I took care of it.”

No other words are exchanged in the room that day. Azula is eleven years old and cleverer than everyone in the palace, with friends as protective and dangerous as her, and Iroh has never seen eye-to-eye with her niece, but he at least understands this.

Zuko asks about his father only once.

Azula lies.

Part 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

I didn’t know cheetahs meow I’ve always thought they roar my whole life has been a lie

What if Harry Potter, the chosen one, had turned out to be a squib, how do you think history would have turned out differently?

It was Mrs. Figg who suspected first.

She noticed many things, sitting on her side of her fence with her cats chasing butterflies and nuzzling her ankles, Mundungus and the other watchers dropping by for tea now and then.

Mrs. Figg noticed that Petunia was a nosy bit of work with insecurities hanging from her every harsh angle. She noticed when Dudley learned the word MINE– the whole neighborhood noticed that one. She noticed that Vernon glared at owls.

She noticed that when Petunia gave Harry a truly horrendous haircut one year, it grew back in at a normal rate. Harry was uneven and weird-looking for ages, hiding under beanies when he could.

When Mrs. Figg had Harry over for carefully miserable afternoons of babysitting, she noticed nothing moved that shouldn’t. He didn’t accidentally make flowers out of fallen leaves, or levitate anything during tantrums, or turn toys funny colors.

Mrs. Figg called up her mother, interrupting the wizarding bridge game she was winning against the nursing home staff, and asked her how she had known, decades back, that her youngest daughter was a squib.

When Albus Dumbledore received Mrs. Figg’s letter he wrote back a polite thank you and then went to talk with Minerva McGonagall, who inhaled sharply in horror when he told her the news.

Finally, McGonagall gave a gathered sigh. “I suppose we can ask one of the wizarding families to homeschool him,” she said. “We can’t have the Boy Who Lived not knowing about his own world.”  

“No, he’ll come to Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore.

“Hogwarts is not a place for–” Her voice fell. “–squibs, Albus.”

Dumbledore shook his head. “Harry must be taught.”

“Be taught what, Albus?”

But Dumbledore just sighed and offered her a lemon drop.

Years later, the owls and the letters came to 4 Privet Drive. The Dursleys ran, dragging Harry with them, and the letters and one stubborn gamekeeper followed– none of this would change with a magicless Harry.

When Hagrid asked Harry in that little cabin on that little rock in the middle of the sea if weird things always happened around him, Harry couldn’t tell him about vanishing glass and setting captive snakes free, about ending up somehow on the school roof, or growing his hair out overnight.  

“Strange things always happen around you, don’ they?”

“Um,” said Harry, racking his brain. “Well… I live in a cupboard under the stairs…”

Harry could tell him about how snakes sometimes talked back, because that had never been Harry’s magic, but when he did Hagrid just blanched and changed the subject.

Hagrid held out hope, even against Dumbledore’s quiet warning explanations, until they made it to Ollivander’s Wands. Harry marveled at Diagon Alley, got his hands shaken in the Leaky, pressed his nose up against shop windows. Hagrid watched the scant boy– looked at James’s messy hair, Lily’s eyes, Harry’s own wandering gaze– and he wondered how this boy could be anything but magical.

In the wand shop, Ollivander said, “James Potter, yes… mahogany, eleven inches. Pliable. A powerful wand for Transfiguration.” He said, “And your mother, Lily…  strong in Charms work, ten and… yes, ten and a quarter, willow, swishy.”

Harry picked up stick after wooden stick. They remained just that– wood with bits of feather or scale or hair. Harry wondered if the creatures who gave these offerings were still alive– if they were given or taken. What did it do to your wand when they died? He waved a maplewood wand (unicorn hair, eleven inches) and a gust from the door opening blew some receipts off the counter.

“Well, said Ollivander. “I think that’s as close as we’re likely to get.”

He sent them out with the maplewood. Hagrid bought Harry a snowy owl and a fudge sundae and tried not make it too obvious that these were condolence gifts. The next day the Prophet’s headlines read: The Boy Who Lived– A Squib? Various magical medical experts weighed in on how it might have happened. Fingers were pointed at childhood trauma, at his upbringing, at his family lineage.

Harry still met Ron on the train– Ron was still smudge-nosed and Harry still bought enough candy to share. When Molly had helped him through the platform entrance, her voice had been a little softer, a little more pitying– but it was still better than the laughter that had been in his aunt and uncle’s voices when they dropped him here to find a platform they didn’t think existed.

Hermione Granger dropped by their compartment, looking for Neville’s toad, but got distracted when she spotted Harry. “I’ve read about you! In my books, and in the paper,” she said. “You’re the Boy Who Lived, and you’re a squib.”

Harry sank down in his seat. Ron hid Scabbers under a candy wrapper.

“Squibs have never been allowed in Hogwarts,” Hermione announced. “According to Hogwarts, A History, squibs try to sneak in now and then– the furthest anyone’s ever gotten is to the Sorting Hat before they got found out.” At eleven, Hermione still believed in expulsion being worse than death. Her voice was thrumming with sympathetic horror.

“But they already found out about me,” Harry said, alarmed.

“It’s alright, mate,” said Ron. “You’re Harry Potter. Oy, Granger,” he added. “What’s this Hat? Fred and George were trying to sell me some story about having to fight a mountain troll to get your House…”

Harry sat back and watched the countryside rush by. Yes, he was Harry Potter– his aunt’s useless sister’s useless child, the boy in the lumpy hand-me-down sweaters who named the spiders who lived in his cupboard. And here, in new world, he was apparently useless too.

When they got to Hogwarts, Harry clenched his fists and stood in line with the other first years. He barely twitched at the ghosts or Peeves, just stared ahead and thought about how far he would get before they turned him around and sent him back to Vernon and Petunia.

They opened the Great Hall doors. They called the first years one by one. Harry clenched his teeth and walked up to the Hat when they called his name.

As he turned to sit down on the stool, he really caught sight of the Hall for the first time– the hovering candles, the big wooden tables, the black robes that swallowed the light. Translucent ghosts gossiped with the students beside them. The paintings on the far walls– were they moving?

Harry’s jaw had unclenched, falling open. His fists curled open, curving around the stool’s seat as he leaned forward to stare. If this was it, if this was as far as he’d get in this world, then he wanted to drink it all in. The candles were floating, in mid-air.

The Hat dropped down over his eyes and blocked out the light.

Well, said the dry voice that had been hollering House placements all night. What do we have here?

Ron had been begging for not-Slytherin. Draco from the robes shop had been scornful of Hufflepuff, desperate in his disdain. Neville had begged for Hufflepuff, sure he was not brave enough for Gryffindor.

Please, thought Harry. Don’t send me back.

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“Look me in the eye, I am filled with existential angst”

Never telling anyone anything else about why I will not be doing something

I think “Hey, fuck you, buddy. I spent the night learning to riverdance,” is going to be my go-to excuse for everything, now. –AW