#or am I going to bite down into a boulder of FUCKING CHICKEN

[itsadamnbeehive]

picky eater rant lol

[fight-surrender]

Howlin’ Forever Chapter 3: Into the Woods

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 2583

Read on AO3

Summary: “Dog-Simon must catch my scent because he’s instantly awake and on his feet. His head is down, hackles are up and the snarl that ensues from his mouth is most certainly lupine. His eyes are Simon’s blue, but there is no humanity or recognition in them. Only malice.”

Time for Baz to find a werewolf. 

(I did put a readmore cut in here on my desktop, I’m terribly sorry to clog your feed if it doesn’t transfer to mobile.) Thanks as always to my amazing friends, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz​, @vkelleyart​ @penpanoply​ for their unwavering support and encouragement and beta reading and omg @penpanoply​ made me this cover art which is fucking gorgeous and brilliant and perfect. <3 <3

        _________________________________________________

                                       Ch 3: Into the Woods

                                   You and me have a disease,                                   You affect me, you infect me,                                   I'm afflicted, you're addicted,                                      You and me, you and me

                                  - “Infected” by Bad Religion

 Baz:

Panting, I scramble to the window. The night seems to be holding its breath, silently waiting as a quiet splash draws my eyes to the moat. The merwolves are eerily calm, almost reverent, as they bear witness to the hulking bronze figure that cuts through the water. The creature emerges from the moat, shaking off moonlit water droplets. He howls again, sending my heart into a renewed frenzy. The wolf then turns and runs into the forest.

I wipe my hands across my face, then rake them through my hair.

What should I do? What should I do?

Should I go after him? Leave him be? Where is he going? Does he even know?

The drawbridge is closed. I’m too frazzled to manage a spell to get around it. Sleep isn’t an option tonight. My eye catches on the pile of books Malfoy sent over. At least Hogwarts still has a fully stocked library, not the Children’s Garden of Verses we have here at Watford. I take a copy of “Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them,” a bag of salt and vinegar crisps and settle onto my bed to try and focus on the pages.

***

  Sunrise turns the room pink as I realize I’ve been reading the same paragraph for half an hour. I have no idea what it says. The only information I’ve retained from this exercise is that the full moon phase can last up to about four days. The transformation seems to last longer in the newly Turned. Also, there is a potion called Wolfsbane that helps lessen the effects of the Lycanthropy.

A heavy thunk, followed by the clatter of gears indicates the drawbridge is coming down.

I snap the book shut with one hand and stand up.

Time to find a werewolf.

 ***

 It’s a good thing it’s the weekend. I certainly wouldn’t miss class to hike through the woods after this imbecile. Branches slap my face as I stomp along, following Snow’s tracks. He’s left an obvious trail of broken limbs, scratched soil and huge footprints. My vampire senses come in handy as well. His scent is different in this form. He still smells like smoke, but now there’s a wildness, a smell of petrichor and moss with hints of musk.

My mind is a swirl of thoughts, but I can’t settle on any single one. Simon, the Chosen One, Watford’s golden boy is now a monster. Technically, he’s not allowed to exist. Neither am I, for that matter, I’m well versed in keeping my secret. The question is what’s Simon going to do with this information? He’s so damned good, he could very well just turn himself in to the mage as soon as he resumes his human form. I’ll be damned to hell twice over before I let him throw his life away like that. I will stop him, even if I have to put a collar on him and chain him to the bed. (That actually sounds appealing, regardless of his reaction to his new condition.)

Simon’s scent gets stronger as I approach a dried creek bed. I slow down, treading lightly across scattered stones and debris, trying not to make a sound. An angry squirrel chitters at me from a branch above my head. If I had the time or inclination, I’d drain him out of spite. At least squirrel blood tastes better than rat.

I stop short as I come around a boulder, on the other side is the hulking form of Simon Snow. Rather, the were version of him. His breath is till heaving, but he seems to be asleep. During the frenzied events of last night, I hadn’t a chance to really get a look at him.  He’s huge, probably the size of a Shetland pony. He doesn’t exactly look wolfish, his muzzle is not so pointed, his ears flop down. He looks like, well he looks like an overgrown, shaggy, bronze-furred Golden Retriever. For snakes sake, of course Simon Snow would turn into a Golden; cheerful, loyal, lovely dogs that they are. He’s too good to even be a proper monster. Crowley. I roll my eyes and shake my head in wonder.

Dog-Simon must catch my scent because he’s instantly awake and on his feet. His head is down, hackles are up and the snarl that ensues from his mouth is most certainly lupine. His eyes are Simon’s blue, but there is no humanity or recognition in them. Only malice. Not quite so Golden-esque then.

Before I can pull my wand from my sleeve, he lunges at me, but immediately falls to the ground. He growls again and turns to bite at something behind him. I step back to a safer distance and see that the beast’s foot is caught in some kind of debris. Snow flails and thrashes, but eventually collapses, exhausted, panting.

I try to approach him, now that he’s tired, and am met once again with that malevolent, dead stare and a mouth full of giant teeth. And, I might add, horrific dog breath.  I back away into the forest to think. That thing, it is Simon. I can’t exactly leave him out here for the next three days, but how can I spell him free and somewhere safe until he goes back to human form? There are dog training spells, but what would “atta boy” do to the human part of his brain? I suppose I could spell him to sleep, but how do I get him back to our room? I don’t have the magic to transport him.

What if I could get him to trust me? Physically, he’s a giant pet dog. What’s the best way to train a dog? Positive reinforcement: Food. What’s the way to Simon Snow’s heart? Food.  

I turn and run back to Watford. It’s time to call in a favor with Cook Pritchard.

 ***

 Thank magic no one is around when I haul the giant wicker picnic basket Cook Pritchard loaded up for me across the great lawn. She gave me enough food for an army. The woman was well chuffed that I was having a picnic with “friends.” She acted as if I hadn’t any friends.  “Well that’s lovely, Basilton, so nice to see you coming out of your shell.” Cook even tucked a small bottle of dandelion wine into the basket, “to help break the ice.” She actually winked at me. I wanted to implode.

I have friends. Sure, half of them are family, but still. You only need one or two friends, anything more isn’t worth the effort.

I carry the basket through the wood. I feel like I’m on my way to a goth Victorian picnic. I stop periodically to drain a few squirrels, just for spite.  The resident dryad side eyes me as I pass her thicket. I ignore her.

“What do you seek, blood eater?” She hisses. Twirling her ridiculous umbrella. Butterflies swirl lazily around her mossy hair.

“None of your business.” I reply.

“Your pistil is a wolf.” She remarks.

“He’s not my anything.” I snarl, “And he’s not a wolf, he’s a Golden Retriever.”

“The Chosen One is an abomination,” she presses. “The children of the moon must die.”

I light a fire in my palm. “Is that so?” I drop my voice to a menace, “maybe I should take out this whole forest in the process.”

“Do what you must. The forest will regrow. He cannot live.” She calls my bluff.

“You know what? You can fuck off.” I say, frustrated.

She opens her mouth to speak, but I raise my hand. “Enough. We’re done here.” I sling the giant basket over my shoulder and stomp away.

I’ll be staked before I take advice from a woodland creature holding a parasol. Snow has as much of a right to live as I do. More so, he’s not dead. Fuck the dryad.

I finally make it back to the creek bed. Dog-Simon looks vaguely defeated, laying on his side, his back leg stretched behind him. I can see a length of rusty wire wrapped around his foot. He’s awake, wary eyes never leaving mine, a low growl rumbles in his chest.

I settle myself on the ground a safe distance away. I’m wearing my school-issue green Watford football trackie bottoms and sweatshirt. Coach Mac will probably not appreciate werewolf damage to the practice uniform. My trainers are caked with mud. I sigh. The things I do for love.

The basket creaks as I open it. The sound makes Snow get up and retreat as far as the wire around his leg will let him. His tail is down, ears back; he’s panting lightly.

I pull out the bottle of dandelion wine and take a swig, to calm my nerves. It’s bitter, with a faint floral overtone, and just enough bite to warm my chest. I take a deep breath and survey the contents of my picnic. The basket is overflowing with roast beef sandwiches, sour cherry scones, roast chicken, bacon butties, jellies, and inexplicably a layered trifle. She must have magicked it all in there.

It’s just me and the dog, and I missed breakfast, so I help myself to a roast beef sandwich. Snow’s ears tip forward and he sits down. Sniffing the air.

I toss a bit of my sandwich at him, he scrambles away with a surprised bark. Almost immediately, he cautiously noses forward, sniffing at the roast beef. He sits down again, without eating it and resumes watching me, panting. His teeth are huge.

“For fucks sake, Simon, it’s not like it’s poisoned.”

The dog’s ears perk up and he cocks his head at me. His mouth is closed, brows almost furrowed in concentration.

“Go on then lad,” I press, “roast beef is your favorite.” I remind myself to breathe.

Snow resumes panting, but lowers his nose again at the food. He nudges it, then takes an experimental bite. Apparently satisfied that the offering wasn’t going to kill him, the great dog swallows the rest. Licking his lips, he retreats to his original position, as far away from Baz as he can get.

I toss half a sandwich into his orbit.

“There you go Snow, I know you can’t walk away from half a sandwich.”

Once again Dog-Simon sits, cocks his head and looks at me. I’m probably imagining it, but his eyelids almost seem to squeeze a bit, in concentration. He cautiously walks my way, never taking his eyes off me, and eats the sandwich half in one bite. This time he doesn’t shy away, he sits, panting again and watches me.

I toss him the other half of the sandwich, which he catches in the air and eats with more gusto. He’s watching me again, this time I get a weak tail wag.

I unwrap the roast chicken and throw the whole thing at him. It lands with an unceremonious plop, a leg breaking free. Simon stands and practically inhales the whole thing. His tail is wagging faster now.

We go on like this for the duration of the afternoon. I’m slowly inching closer, I can almost touch his muzzle now. He seems more relaxed, the panting has stopped. His ears are forward, tail wagging freely. His eyes have gone softer, from ice to sky.

I reach into the basket for a sour cherry scone, I’ve been saving these for this moment. I scoot even closer, holding it in my hand this time. He’s so close, he could easily rip my throat out. It’s not often I have to worry about someone ripping out my throat. It’s refreshing, really. I suppose there are worse ways to die.

“Simon, we’re going to have to work together to figure this mess out. If there is any part of you that can hear me, let me help you. I mean, I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but…” My voice tapers off. Why would he trust me? Crowley, I’ve done nothing but torment him for the last 6 years.

A gentle breeze ruffles the golden leaves above me. “We be of one blood, ye and I.” I murmur. A warm rush of surprise washes over me. Where the fuck did that even come from? Kipling was a powerful magician, but is that even a spell? Leave it to me to channel my favorite childhood book in times of duress.

I take a breath and hold out the scone. Simon noses forward, sniffs, and carefully takes the scone from my hand. He doesn’t move away. I keep my eyes on him as I slowly reach for the basket and remove another scone. I hold it in my hand, when he takes it, I reach out with my other hand and run it behind his ear, rubbing along his jaw. He stiffens, but continues to eat the scone. “These are your favourite,” I whisper, scratching behind his ear, rubbing slowly along his neck and shoulder. Eventually, I find myself out of scones and scratching his stomach, while his tongue lolls and he scratches his back leg lazily.

I take a break because my hands are cramping from all the petting. I really hope he doesn’t remember any of this. I shake my hands and look at the grime under my nails. I’m going to need a manicure.

Simon stands and gives a mighty shake from his nose to his feathered, rudder-like tail. He utters a sharp bark, like he’s decided something, then proceeds to try and climb into my lap, his huge pink tongue lapping my face.

“Merlin and Morgana, you giant thumping git, get off. I push him away, but not too far. He knocks me to the ground and licks my whole face. For snakes sake, you’re disgusting, I get to my feet wiping saliva off my chin and trying not to smile. Simon’s tail is wagging so hard his whole body is wiggling and he’s rubbing along my side, trying to get me to scratch his back. I oblige for a moment.

“Snow, stop, let’s get your leg untangled.”  He stands so quietly as I extricate his leg from the wire, that I can’t help but wonder if he understood me.

Once freed, Simon plants his giant paws on my shoulders and smears the side of my face with his tongue once more. “Blimey, Snow.” I step back and the great dog’s feet once more hit the ground. He zooms away, coming to a skidding stop, returns to my side and bows his front legs down, rear up, tail wagging madly.

I lean down and take his huge face in my hands, scratching gently below his jaw. “Come along, you delightful moron, let’s go home.”

I turn and make my way through the forest. The late afternoon sun dappling the trail with rich golden light. Dust motes dancing in the beams. Simon scampers ahead, darting back every few minutes to make sure I’m still following.

I breathe in the rich loamy scent of these ancient woods and let it out slowly. For once, my mind is quiet. Simon is back at my side, nosing at my hand. I absentmindedly rub his velvet ear. I stop and let this foreign emotion wash over me. I let myself relax, for just this moment, I am content.

[jasntodds]

Webs Are Lame [p.p.]

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, some angst

Request: hi! i have a really specific request so i understand if you don’t wanna do it or want to change it up! basically the reader can control all elements of nature (air, fire, water, etc) and tony stark kinda takes her under her wing like he did with peter. so basically he sets them up to meet each other since theyre both young and inexperienced and peter thinks her powers are lame until she shows him?? sorry its so specific haha

Summary: You’re set to start training with Peter

A/N: I know Tumblr’s shit at notifications lately, but this is just a reminder that I am going through every single note and checking my tag list and removing people who aren’t interacting starting after the next Parker one-shot. (depending on how long the notification bullshit lasts I might extend it to 2 or 3 more ya know, but so y’all know) ALSO this tag list is closed until further notice

Masterlist

Tony Stark. He’s a mastermind to say the least but he’s someone who can see potential in people even when no one else does. Especially when it comes to kids. That’s where you come in. There were videos of you all over YouTube using wind, water, earth, even fire to save lives and help those who couldn’t help themselves. It wasn’t long before you were visited by the billionaire innovator.

Tony has since taken you under his wing, helping you learn and train. This is actually great for you because you get to actually work alongside him, sometimes, anyway. Plus, with him helping you, you get all new tech that helps protect you and keep you safe. It’s truly a giant winning situation. Until now, anyway.

Tony has the bright idea to bring you and Peter into the training room to meet. You’re both the same age and young, inexperienced. Tony’s idea is that the two of you could work together and learn from each other while also learning together. A sound plan really, until you meet him.

You introduce yourselves while Tony excuses himself so you two can get acquainted but warns the both of you not to break anything or kill each other.

“So, uh, w-what can you do?” Peter asks nervously, looking to his feet and back to you.

“I can control the elements.” You state simply.

Peter’s brows furrow as he shakes his head. He bites his lip and doesn’t say a word. By the silence and the expression on his face, it’s more than obvious he’s biting back whatever he really wants to say.

“What?” You quirk a brow.

“N-nothing, really.” Peter shrugs as his cheeks turn a little red.

“I know you want to say something. What is it?” You push as you cross your arms over your chest.

“It’s just…” Peter starts. “That’s kind of lame.”

You scoff and you roll your eyes, appalled by his words. No one has ever thought your powers were lame, not that many people knew but those who did thought it was cool. You could freeze anything you wanted and set things on fire. You could use wind to create tornadoes and pin people to walls. You can create barricades with the earth and use boulders to trap criminals. Controlling the elements is totally badass. What can Peter do? Stick to walls?

“My powers are lame?” You glare the curly haired boy. “Webs are lame!”

“No, they’re not!” Peter defends. “I created my own web formula and Mr. Stark seems impressed!” Peter starts boasting about his creation making you just roll your eyes again and shift your weight to one leg.

“Dude, you stick to walls. That’s your power. You created a web fluid. Anyone with a genius brain could do that. But your actual power is that you can stick to walls.” Venom is trenched in every word, not taking kindly to Peter's attitude.

“No!” Peter scrunches his nose in annoyance. “I can stop a bus, with my bare hands!” He tosses his arms out, the anger of you minimalizing his powers getting to him. “Everything is dialed to eleven so I can actually, like, I dunno, feel when something is coming and it’s bad and I can hear things other people I can’t. Oh! And I can heal faster than normal people! That's cool!”

“Oooohhh, big deal.” You scoff, putting your nose the air. “I can keep people away from me so I won’t need any of that.”

Peter throws his head back with flaring nostrils and boiling blood. He thought being able to train alongside someone the same age as him would be fun but he thought they’d have better powers or something. There was always something about the ability to control elements that bored him. Sure, he was a fan of shows that showed the powers but in real life? It didn’t seem like it’d be all that special.

“Fine,” Peter looks back to you. “Why don't you prove it?”

In a quick movement, you sent a gust of air his way and pushed him against a wall, pulling the air from his lungs and holding him to the wall for a solid thirty seconds before letting him free. A confident smile crosses your lips as you put your hands behind your back, swaying from the heel of your foot to your toes, proud of your action. Peter slid down the wall, holding his chest and catching his breath.

Peter looks at you, flabbergasted and impressed. “Okay,” Peter takes a deep breath. “I take it back. That was really cool.” Peter sends you a timid smile. “C-can you show me more? But..not on me.”

You send him a bright smile. “Of course but you gotta show me just how strong you are and how your webshooters work.”

“Deal.” Peter says quickly, getting back to his feet.

Tag list: @thumper-darling // @saltymermaid // @spiderlingss // @negative-love // @tmrhollandkay // @carrotsunshine // @hasozterfield // @pickachurose // @pookiepookie8 // @catnolannn // @finn-the-pigeon // @findawaytoglow // @Somebodyoncetoldmeimsad // @brookssbabe // @mysteriouslyluckymoon // @angie1djonasgg // @hopelessdestielromantic // @zenzedana // @mikalaka // @blackberryporcupine // @deanslittlebitch // @jxvnv // @omgitspopcorn // @shelteredheart // @robin-writes // @50shadesoflaurmani // @lisamnieto // @prettylittlebrownskingyal // @princess-shurii // @writingforbucky // @dangerousluv1 // @chayceschultz // @bellagrayson-wayne // @satan-chicken // @mysticsthinking // @aussie-holland // @wtfholland // @distressedhollandfield // @TWD1DSNFREAK // @chingonaconcha // @tiny-friggin-human // @batfam04 // @spiderboytotherescue // @loserparker // @miajane601 // @cancerous-lizard666 // @shawnsassymendes // @tomhollvnds // @acciorinn // @yeahbutmarvel // @draqcnheartstrinq // @bpdsx // @avengersgirllorianna // @soccer-mom-karen  // @and-everythings-not-lost // @spidermanswifi // @tomsfireheart // @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked // @notthepersonyouwerelookingfor  // @tomsbabyquackson // @spidey-pal // @postapocalyptic14 // @im-finallly-clean // @starlightfound  // @707-deserves-better // @maddie-leighhh // @peters-vlogs // @wolfie-doggo // @iamthepenguinwhosearseisonfire // @the-crime-fighting-spider // @hellomywonderfulwildflowers // @random-ass-user // @cherrysoul // @marvel22girl // @ditchthesticks  // @lilackimmi  // @coach-mccall // @Gangnaengie // @coolranchqueen // @mimiloh // @psychael  // @amberthefiredemon // @randomfandomsshallwe // @lionheo04 // @lovelynerdytraveler // @taliaa-gracee // @filmbypeterparker // @sigh-stars // @lionsfandomsandbearsohmy // @softboyhollands // @laucontrerasv // @shuriismyqueen // @necromancer-inwell // @fairydustparker // @dharma-babe // @internetnetnet // @minibog // @ohdamnerons // @spidey-shit // @iwatchedastimeranout // @justarandomfangril // @rosecoloredshawn // @foreverbeingthunderbuddy // @spider-bih // @frostymoon11 // @growingthornz  // @therealme13posts // @purepeterparker // @mellowmew20 // @sharkyholland // @hollandharrison // @spiderlingsblog // @weird-book-lover1 // @carmen62102 // @trashqueenbitch // @xoxoholland // @irelandlover21 // @starfleetavenger // @kathpride18 // @escapetheshackles // @solarspidey // @festivespiderboi // @fellownarnian // @flirtygerty  // @itsybitsypetey // @your-ordinary-girl // @theshortegg // @spider-mendes // @vampires0 // @fame-works-quicker // @stephie-senpai // @timelords13 // @leni-lion-luke-larb-logic // @periwinklechild // @moonlightandgalaxies // @cjnotthedj // @t-hollandd // @hollandsthirl // @parkerstcr // @meetmysecretstars // @movinoutxx // @justtheusualfangirl // @ssahailie // @writings-and-stuff // @Homeytherandomperson  // @buckyboy-soldier // @underoosstark // @sskidizzle // @shawn-darling // @liberty01 // @ba-nds // @magical-fandoms // @greedysiren // @theridersonthestorm // @peachesnmei // @angelfiregaming  // @broken-pieces  // @j-marvel-memester // @madmadmilk // @angelicshinigami // @writtenbypics // @karmaboundlife // @alilblogger // @Dontdowonder // @sarcasticqueen02 // @SarcasticSara04 // @aclass-trash // @http-nataliaa // @hi-mishamigos // @stylesbucks18 // @avahodge // @sunshine-marvel-hearts // @johannaapagan // @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t // @meyrapp // @paigeypooo // @wizardstrange // @bookfrog242 // @everything-jeronica // @lilleone // @mrstarkidontfeelsogoodimsorry // @lefreakette // @this-is-mik // @thegirlwiththeimpala // @scottish-velvet // @cheneyq // @it’s-peter-fucking-parker // @dsakita // @pandas1923 // @hamiltrin // @httpmcrvel // @cryo-bucky17 // @jenlou2309 // @rumoured-whispers // @assumeimapenguin // @bitterbagel // @curlyboyholland // @hither-to-undreamt-of // @littlemsrantsalot // @just-another-fanfiction-writer // @Theoneandonlyeclipse // @sensitivegoat // @just-a-random-fangril // @light-the-buh // @owlsparks // @heartlessfeelings24 // @stareome // @ninni880 // @insanecurlieeeefriessss // @kaliforniacoastalteens // @celestialpercy // @crescentstarknight // @tommylovestrains // @cosmetologynerd // @transspideyman // @inspiredbynewt // @im-on-something-different // @wisestarfishpoliceyeet // @peterparkers-waffles // @petermyspiderson // @slickerbeans // @marvels-hoe-duh // @5-secs-of-4-idiots // @Risabeee // @wombatholland // @peterparklr // @golden-guide // @underoossss // @tomhollanderp // @hvllanders // @tomblrholland // @chels-writes // @ewolfwitchwisegirl // @lesdragly // @marvelspidey-tomholland // @cannibal-ivy // @beesarebettertahnpigeons // @dixonsbugaboo // @we-are-marvel-fans // @angelpirabbit // @mazewitch // @sarcasticallystydia // @my-babies-are-ash // @cali // @im-emotional-nice-to-meet-you // @happysynonym // @wubbawubwub04 // @sighspidey // @headsup-itsmostlypeter // @mummy-woves-you // @spideyluke // @hannahjoy2139 // @smexylemony // @dude-whatawave // @1enchantedfantasy1 // @flashcal // @Petersmask // @hoodash98xx // @spiderdudeparker // @spiderbliss // @iaiabear // @me-a-hopeless-romantic // @determinedpines // @holland-parker // @Whitieclappingwhentheplanelands // @Whoopsitsme // @artclutteredhowell // @spxderbarnes // @darlingxtom // @quicksoldier // @lafayettes-baguettes-1 // @heyspiderparker // @radical-bunny // @calmdownyall // @beckyblender // @sydthekid443 // @killmemonger // @corvus-of-moonlight // @thellamalord // @beansparker // @tooturntashbash // @stormbornbarnes // @teebae7 // @deadlyaffairs // @lemirabitur // @softpetcrparker // @lntensified // @shay-grace18 // @lltrashll // @katelynseabreeze // @popluckbih // @fandoms-stuff // @PetersGalaxy // @nichu // @lostnliterature // @hareliketherabbit // @ladylogolepsy // @sincerelymlg // @plethoraofpuppies // @dabbingangels // @webfluidbih // @itsemmyb // @i-fucking-rock // @i-ship-it-ironically // @afterglowparker // @larbingmarvel // @spiderwoman-on-the-run // @babynora83 // @milaakilla // @damnhisfaceisliketheskyatnight // @sholla4-314 // @xxxxdelenaxxxx // @evanstns // @spideyziam // @anoffensiveintrovert // @indecisivearia // @littlebitchass // @peterficparker // @sylviestars // @sabinatheteenage // @yohoyohoafandomlifeforme // @brokenuntilmay3rd2019 // @lizzie-143 // @deadlyaffairs // @tinyspiderling // @vendylewin // @southsideprincessx // @brianasyouth // @Laciedsl // @built4broadway // @just-saying-26 // @ironspideyboy // @haha-lmao-blog // @bbypeter // @miraculouspaladins // @alltoowhalee13 // @blackawsum // @dabbingangels // @silhouettecherie // @holyhollland // @abucketfullofweird // @we-flower-fan // @supernatural-girl97 // @ilovepizzaandimhot // @the-road-to-redemtion // @unearthemotions // @Xoitsjustmexo // @spider-strange-iron-loki // @lizcrist50 // @sireennotsiren // @melmelmel21 // @micki-smiles // @tommyhoe // @notunlimited // @rae-gar-targaryen91 // @c-ly-g // @Flowerchild8341 // @fucking-reddie // @bluparis // @blehblve // @trashsiara // @grace-sully // @captivatedrose // @taybugstuff // @spidergirlwanab // @nichu // @brokenuntilmay3rd2019 // @cuddlyklaus // @spideyflash-peterbarry // @cynicallystiles // @fandomxobsessions