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valkyriesryde · 1 day
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uncle iroh: 😍🍚 prince zuko: 🤔❓❓
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valkyriesryde · 1 day
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New idea: instead of writing the fic, you come over to my house and I tell you the entire plot while I pace my tiny kitchen. There’s a cup of tea, warm in your hands. The words don’t stop and the affection never leaves your expression.
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valkyriesryde · 1 day
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Captain America: The First Avenger (2011)
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valkyriesryde · 7 days
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valkyriesryde · 8 days
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Alright here's another one of my personal favorite sets (you'll notice a trend here) Jen Bartel's Titans #1-7
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I love it when artists put the characters in literally anything other than their costumes so when this set first started getting released I was going bananas!!! And all of them look so good?!?!!?! Star and Raven definitely win best dressed but all of them are just stunning
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valkyriesryde · 8 days
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civil war but when zemo says the trigger words bucky goes into factory reset mode and starts speaking spanish like buzz lightyear in toy story 3
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valkyriesryde · 8 days
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making it through another week, its what he would want
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valkyriesryde · 12 days
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some fake dating with peter parker plzz<3
"Can I have your number?"
The horrifying question pulls you out of your work and into a waking nightmare as your eyes fall onto a boy, around your age, standing over your lonely library table, phone held out towards you expectantly.
You laugh, because it's your first instinct to, forced and too loud.
"Oh, I'm okay," you say nervously, hoping it's enough to wave him off.
The boy stands, stunned, wondering if you'd misheard. "I asked for your number," he repeats through his own forced laugh, inching closer to you, his phone only inches from your face.
Discomfort pricks at your skin as you bite your lip, unsure now of what to do. Your eyes stare directly at your now dim computer screen, your own reflection visible, your eyes not daring to look up at the stranger's.
As the screen of your laptop finally turns black you catch the glimpse of another stranger behind you before your head snaps to the shuffle of movement beside you. Another boy, this one tall and brunette, slides into the chair next to yours comfortably. Two pairs of eyes have fallen on him, yours particularly wide in surprise.
God, why you?
"Hey," he says with an easy smile, eyes focused solely on you. "Sorry I'm late." His hand reaches for yours, fingers linking together too naturally.
You recognize him now - you've seen him around campus a few times, definitely, but you're sure you've never spoken to each other before today.
"It's fine," you say softly, trying to wipe the shock off of your face to not flush all this new stranger's efforts down the drain.
"You could've just said you had a boyfriend," the boy standing over you scoffs, phone finally tucked away and arms crossed.
Words falter as he walks away - though your attention is brought back to your hand, still interlocked with a stranger's. Your intense gaze makes the boy next to you redden and suddenly retract his hand, nerves beginning to pick up now that he has no audience to act for.
"I'm so sorry," he begins immediately. "You looked really uncomfortable, I'm sorry if I made you more uncomfortable." His hands are raised in surrender while his knee bounces nervously, eyes glancing for a quick escape.
"That was pretty quick thinking," you offer with a small smile. "Thanks for getting rid of him."
The boy smiles back, just slightly. There's still guilt in his eyes as he looks over you and your makeshift work station, hands moving to grab his few personal items.
"I'm sorry, I totally interrupted your study session," he laughs awkwardly, shouldering the bag he'd dropped on the table so carelessly earlier.
"Well, technically..." The rest of your thought fades as you focus on the sudden flinging of a bag back onto the table.
Your eyebrows furrow as you tilt your head, ready to ask the boy why he'd thrown his bag back down immediately before you notice how intensely he's looking at you.
"I don't think it's safe for me to go yet."
Something about his gaze tells you not to look behind you despite how badly you want to; you're sure it has something to do with a certain guy from earlier.
"I can take care of myself," you defend.
"I'm sure you can," he says in a tone so genuine it catches you off-guard. "I just can't, in good conscious, leave until he does."
Your lips part slightly at how much care a stranger holds for your well-being. It's a little strange, but not in the way that makes you shiver; strange in a way that makes your eyes wide and your cheeks warm.
"We could leave first," you suggest, closing the lid of your abandoned laptop. "I'm pretty much done anyway." It was a blatant lie, but there was no way for him to know that. Really, your motivator was not wanting to hold up any more of his time; how indebted would you be?
"Are you sure?" He only moves to pick his things up when you nod, accepting the interlocking arm you offer with red cheeks. He walks with you out of the library, stopping a good distance away from the primary doors and hopefully, any onlookers.
"Thank you..."
"Peter," he all but laughs, finding too much humor in the fact that you don't even know his name. "Peter Parker."
"Thank you, Peter. That was very nice of you."
"I try," Peter grins easily at you, taking a few steps backward as he waves goodbye. "See you around?"
"Yeah!" You call, though it's not certain; you don't have his number (as ironic as that is). "I'll see you!"
As Peter's back turns towards you and yours eventually turns towards him, you can't help the tingling of your fingers where they had been interlocked with his.
Nothing is certain. As far as you know, you may not see him for another couple of weeks.
Your next meeting will just have to be written in the stars.
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valkyriesryde · 12 days
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It was real to me, too.
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valkyriesryde · 12 days
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valkyriesryde · 1 month
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valkyriesryde · 1 month
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Happiness Will Come To You.
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valkyriesryde · 1 month
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Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling??? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.
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valkyriesryde · 1 month
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could you write a really fluffy peter Parker fic for Valentine’s Day (with banter ofc)
valentine, oh mine
tasm!peter x reader
a/n: this is not cute or fun or any of the things i aspire to be. it is painful. peter dies (he doesn’t). don’t read this.
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*
“will you be my valentine?”
“hello, peter,” you answer, through your toothbrush. the words are deadpan. “i’m doing well, thank you. how are you?”
“better if you answer the question.”
you laugh, letting his response linger for a moment as you try to discern where, exactly, he is. your mouth tastes like spearmint, and it would be perfect to kiss him with. even though it’s monday, and almost midnight, and he shouldn’t be here.
for a whole multitude of reasons (number one being that you know he’ll keep you awake for at least a couple of hours more).
“where are you?” you ask him, listening to ruffling and a whine from the other end.
a manly whine, he might tell you, if you could see his face and make fun of it.
“stop deflecting. you don’t wanna be my valentine?” you can hear the frown.
and then there’s a horn, signaling absolutely nothing.
you spit into the sink, and put him on speaker as you rinse.
“i’ve gotta say that this is one of the more underwhelming valentine proposals i’ve gotten. you’re not even here. instead you’re…” you drawl, “where, again?”
“this is just further proof that i’m always thinking about you,” peter tells you, recalling an argument you’d had the day prior.
about how he wasn’t paying attention to you—or the conversation you were trying to have with him about one of your coworkers—but instead, according to him, thinking about you.
which did not help his case, of course. instead you’d given him the silence treatment for three minutes while he groveled—poorly.
and you doubt that he was thinking about valentine’s day when his eyes were glued to your lips the entire time.
“again,” you tell him, trying to hide the sound of a smile in your voice, “i would rather you just listen to me. answer my question and i’ll answer yours,” you bargain.
“how’s that fair? i asked first.”
“i asked second.”
peter sighs, and there’s a brief pause where he breaks up. you mess with the sound settings to no avail. up or down, his voice is distorted.
“are you—“ his voice wonders. “i was gonna tell you—“ and then a pause. and then. “are you giving me the silent treatment again?”
“cant hear you,” you hum. “somethings wrong with your phone.”
“how do you know it’s mine?” his voice enters again, breaking back and forth. another honking, and silence as he puts himself on mute.
because you’re no fool, and you know that peter would’ve answered the question already—if only to get you to answer his—if he didn’t know that you’d scold him for it.
“cause i can hear the wind while you swing,” you tease, though swallow, your voice is aiding the anger you should feel—because your boyfriend is a liar, and a traitor and you kinda hate him.
but you’re not really angry. you haven’t seen him since he left your house at six in the morning, so that’s probably why.
“i—“ there’s a pause. and then his voice is clear again. “that’s my hairdryer.”
“are you lying to me, peter?”
“it might even be the connection,” he continues, idly. “may’s been complaining about the service but i’ve been too busy to check the box, so—“
“are you still lying to me?”
you can almost see him swallow. “…no?”
“i told you not to call me when you’re out.”
“so you never want me to call you?” he asks, mock hurt. “when i’m not out, i’m always with you. i thought you liked my phone calls, and my voice if my memory serves me. someone really liked it—“
“you know what i mean.”
“do i?”
“peter parker, unless you want me to hang up—“
“okay, okay,” there’s still no swinging. “i’m sorry.”
“no, you’re not,” you whine, sitting on your bed and listening closely so he can’t trick you again.
“i actually am this time,” he swears. “i won’t do it again. but this is a very important matter.”
“swinging while talking is basically like texting and driving, and if i was doing that i’d be getting an earful from you.”
“it’s so not the same thing. first of all, spider senses, please keep up,” he tells you, laughing. “and who am i going to hurt in the open air?”
“a pigeon,” you say, almost angrily. “they’re an endangered species, you idiot.”
“they’re definitely not.”
“okay, then, yourself. who’s going to be my valentine if you slam into a wall and crack your head open?”
peter would not look cute without his skull, you remain firm on this fact.
you can hear his smile. “i knew you wanted to be my valentine.”
“before i knew you were lying to me.”
“you lie to me all of the time,” peter argues.
your brows furrow. “when?”
“when you said that you don’t like it when i call you,” he murmurs, almost soft, still teasing. “i know you do. you miss me.”
“i miss my boyfriend,” you answer, biting back some other remark about how you don’t miss him at all—honestly, you’re trying to prove that you’re not lying. “but apparently i’m talking to a superhero.”
“oh, did i forget to mention that? must’ve slipped my mind.”
“where are you now?” you ask. “it’s quiet.”
and then there’s a tap on the wall to your right.
“peter…”
“yes?”
“is that you?”
“maybe.”
“are you kidding?” you grumble, crawling on your knees to push back the curtains and open the window. you frown as you unlatch it, hands interrupted by other ones, doing the same thing. “how long have you been sitting out here?”
“since ‘are you lying?’ i think.” he says, in a terrible impression of your voice. “it’s cold.”
you pull him in by his wrist, immediately pushing him off when he tries to land on your bed on top of you.
peter pulls his mask off, smiling at you. “hi.”
“i’m mad. go take a shower.”
his fingers tip-toe up your arm, trying to get you to shiver. “are you really?” he hums.
“yes.”
“how can i make it up to you?”
“find me a better, non-lying valentine,” you tell him, pouting as you look away.
“is this supposed to be an answer?”
“why didn’t you just wait?” you ask instead. “if you were going to come here anyway, why didn’t you ask me in person instead of being a disappointment, and breaking a rule?”
“i don’t recall signing a contract…”
you groan, sitting up and crossing your legs as you look at him. unfortunately for you, his hair has fallen over his eyes just right, and you still want to kiss him.
“take me seriously.”
“i take everything you say,” he leans in, “very seriously.”
you push his nose. “you don’t.”
“i do!” he swears, grabbing your hand. “i’m listening. tell me what’s wrong.”
he says this condescendingly, because you already told him—kind of—but he knows that if you have to repeat it, you’ll break.
“this is why they say familiarity breeds contempt.”
peter smiles. “are you feeling contemptful right now?”
you nod.
he leans again, and you cant push him away. “how can i help?”
“you can apologize.”
peter’s smile grows softer as you look at him with eyes of steel, like he finds this version of you cute. your pout and your false anger, all bundled up into one perfect package.
just for him, you suppose.
he leans in some more, “i’m sorry,” he says, softly, just brushing your lips. “i was excited.”
you purse your lips, even while his are soft and teasing against them. it feels kind of like a feather brushing your skin, like peters got his own secret form of tickling you.
teasing you, like he always does. familiarity breeds contempt, and comfort, and confusion, and…
he kisses you fully, this time. a gentle peck. “i wanted to hear your voice,” he admits. “i’m impatient. i should listen to you more.”
“right…” you whisper, with him, as your only form of acknowledgement.
“i won’t call you while i’m out, okay? or i’ll pause somewhere.”
your brows are permanently fixed together. “don’t pause. just… get some headphones, or something.” you let your lips relax, finally, and they fall against his just as a consequence. “i like your voice too,” you admit, quietly, as an afterthought.
peters smile is bashful. “like wireless ones? not sure how that would work under the mask…”
“you made the suit,” you tell him, leaning back. “you cant figure it out, genius?”
“i’ll do it for you, i guess,” he sighs, but his fingertips trace the skin on both of your arms, simply because he’s that close.
“thank you.”
“are we done fighting now?”
you frown, pushing his hands away so you can cross your arms. “no. you really asked me to be your valentine over the phone?”
peter sighs, shaking his head. “i knew i should’ve gone with the skywriting.”
“or,” you say, rhetorically, “i don’t know, maybe a box of chocolates? flowers? a quick ‘hey, will you be my valentine?’ before you left this morning?”
“that’s so lame.”
“so is asking me over the phone.”
“i was excited,” peter argues. “i wanted an answer.”
“well you didn’t get one.”
“yes i did,” he tells you, finally grabbing your arm so he can pull you on top of him (because seriously, this is unfair).
“no.”
“you said i was your valentine,” he reminds you, tilting your head up so you’re looking at him.
“you’re mine,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “i never said i was yours.”
“wow,” peter murmurs. “that might be the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“please. i called you a vermin to may the other day.”
he pouts, childishly.
“ask me nicely,” you say, after a moment.
“i did.”
“ask me nicely again.”
there’s a pause where two stubborn people meet at a head—literally, head to head—and consider the prospects of losing this battle.
but peter is softer than you are, when you tease a smile on your lips, he breaks. “will you be my valentine?”
“hmm,” you ponder, looking away. “i’ll think about it. i mean, there’s a lot of options to choose from.”
peter bites your nose in retaliation and the two of you laugh until you’re dizzy
*
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valkyriesryde · 1 month
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wow captain america 3 looks so good!! 
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valkyriesryde · 1 month
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*Spidey and the Sinister Six having their usual fight*
Doc Ock, landing a hit: You’re getting slow Spider-Man! Age finally catching up to you?
Spider-Man: You wish! I haven’t even hit my 30s! From those costumes I can already tell I failed to save you guys from those midlife crises! Sorry by the way.
Vulture: Watch it wallcr- wait… Did you just say your not in your thirties yet?
Spider-Man: Surprised that this spiders so young and spry? Well-
Electro: Dude I’ve been fighting you for at least 5 fucking years! How old even are you?
Shocker, joking cause he’s the only one who picked up no grown adult acts likes Spidey: Don’t swear in-front of the boy you don’t want him to pick it up.
Rhino: Christ! You’re tellin me I almost crushed some 12-year-olds skull all those years ago?
Spider-Man, regretting his quipping: I was not that young! Like just starting freshman year but-
Sandman, horrified as he’s the only one with a kid and dad instincts(as of my iteration): I could’ve killed a kid…
Shocker, genuinely curious: Are you even old enough to drink? Cruel to kill a man who ain’t had his first drink yet.
Electro: Please tell us you’re at least over 25 as of this fight. Hell, I’ll take over 21!
Spider-Man:….
Sandman, realizing just how young he really is: Oh my god.
Spider-Man: My birthday’s coming up soon so I guess it counts?
Doc Ock, exacerbated: It. Does. Not!
Vulture: What would your mother think if she knew her son was out here risking his life telling poorly constructed jokes?
Spider-Man, offended cause it quips slap: 1. My jokes are great 2. She and my dad are dead so-
Sandman, hysterical cause holy shit he almost killed a kid orphan: OH MY GOD!
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valkyriesryde · 1 month
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