#tyrant writes

So, here’s the thing.

Peter knows he’s a smart kid. He got into M.I.T. along with his best friends on his own merits, having applied as Peter Benjamin Parker and submitting his name change along with all the other documents for admission after the fact. He knew he wasn’t the smartest person around – hell, he wasn’t the smartest person in his family, no matter what Dad and Baba both said. But he was smart!

More importantly, he was, y’know. A child of the era. A youth of the internet. He knew things, socially and academically, is the point.

A/N: I have no self-control whatsoever. There are some latin-y things in here cause I’m a nerd. It’s also 1,328 words excluding this and the title.

“Have you thought about herpetology?” the academic advisor said, looking at his reflection in sunglasses. If he shifted his gaze a little, he’d be looking at her hair. It’d probably look back just taunt him, but that wasn’t the issue at hand.

“No. Isn’t that some science thing?”

A/N: It’s 9 am, you can’t stop me.

“Hera,” For once his voice cracked. That was new. “Hera, please.”

She kept her back turned towards him because if she looked at him, saw that pitiful face he always made after this; she wouldn’t know what to do. During her lifetime, she had helped marriages across the globe and a few realms.

Hades and Persephone.  Menelaus and Helen. Two examples of many and she had neglected her own marriage because nothing would change.

A/N: Something about the fae and intentionally exposing myself.

The night was cool at Peach Lotus Orphanage. Ozimu was awake, just like they always were. Kids weren’t allowed out at night, which was their problem. They had been here for a year now if the frosted windows were any indication. They were restless and the church bell a few miles away woke them up, gave them a headache when the other kids slept through it.

When the sun rose, that’s when they would start looking. They looked at their reflection as they waited. Dark skin, dark eyes, and oddly enough, red hair. Almost like fire, but not. Their eyes were losing its gleam, flat in some places, shiny in others and the only way Ozimu passed as human for now.

“Rowan,”

They turned at that, coming face to face with a boy. Ozimu assumed they were friends, or he thought they were. Humans were peculiar in that way. To befriend someone they had only met once. It was also dangerous.

“What are you doing up?” the boy asked, walking towards them.

“Waiting for sunrise,”

“Why?”

“So I can go home,” Ozimu said. “I need to search for it.”

It was probably in the forest just outside the entrance. A cottage would be waiting for them, smoke coming out the chimney as their momma sat on the rocking chair waiting for her child to come home.

“What you doin’ here for if you have a home?” the boy asked, knocking his shoulder against Ozimu’s. “Rowan, you think I have a home too?”

“Yeah,” they answered. It would be different from their cottage, the chimney would still smoke and the house would smell like pork or whatever meat humans wanted.  There might not have been a porch or a rocking chair, but at least someone would be waiting for him too.

The sky turned purple, then red and gold as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon. Ozimu put their hand on the doorknob, grabbing the boy’s hand with the other. “Let’s go,” they said, making their voice light.

Ozimu made it past the gate, most importantly before the nuns could notice and it wasn’t iron. They hurried to the edge of the forest, body humming as they held onto the boy’s hand and went deeper. Birds sang and somewhere a river spit and bubbled, but they were looking for mushrooms.

“Rowan,” the boy started. “Where are we going?”

“Home,” they replied, squeezing his hand and pulling him further along until the birds' song became quiet and the river became louder. Trees stretched over them, blotting out the still rising sun.

“I don’t have a home.”

“You will,” Ozimu said, turning to smile at him. Make him believe everything was alright. Their eyes were flat, no shine left to reassure the boy that everything would be alright.

“Rowan,” his feet started to hurt. “we should go back.” He wanted to go back.

“We can’t.” The ring was just up ahead, they could feel it.

A circle of mushrooms is what scared him, the fact that Ozimu was walking towards it like nothing mattered and they wouldn’t let go of his hand. “Rowan,” the boy stopped once his foot passed the circle.

Ozimu was suddenly tall, still holding onto his hand, red hair the only dull color in this realm of light. They turned toward him, teeth sharp as they smiled. Eyes flat as they stared at him.

A cottage was up ahead, smoke coming from the chimney.

The boy looked at his friend, or maybe it was someone else that just looked like Rowan. He swallowed. “I wanna go home,” what even was home? Where ever he was, wasn’t home.

Ozimu scoffed, folding their tattooed arms over their chest. “You are home. Come with me, momma’s waiting for us.”

A/N: It’s nowhere near Christmas, but I love the whole finally meeting your SO’s parents during a holiday trope, even if they aren’t human. Also, this is way before they got married.

Mia put the last candle on the mantle, smiling to herself. They put the tree up months ago since Ekia never decorated one and, much to Mia’s surprise, didn’t know it could be fake. She turned as the front door opened, rushing to push Ekia inside.

“Did anyone see you?” Mia asked, watching Ekia put the logs by the fireplace and shake her wings out. “Did the carolers see you?”

“No,” she answered, tossing a few logs in and lighting them. “Are your parents on the way?” she continued, easily shifting into her human form. Ugly Christmas sweater and all.

“They should’ve been here by now,” Mia replied, glancing out the window. She hoped they made it down all right and the snow wasn’t too bad. “What about yours?”

“A few minutes,” a thud sounded outside. “Or now. You know,” Ekia started, looking around the house. “Usually around this time, dragons and their partners perform a marriage ritual.”

Mia whipped around to look at her, asking, “How exactly does it work?”

“Well, normally my parents and I would dance then awash you in our flames, but since you’re fully human,” Ekia paused, checking outside. “I like having you not burned alive.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, sweetheart,” Mia said, kissing her cheek and heading towards the door. She opened it, face to face with an eye. A black sclera, dark purple iris much like her girlfriend’s. She closed it, moving to sit on the couch. “Please tell your parents to change.” She mumbled, hearing the door open and then close.

A flash of light followed as Mia looked up as the door opened and a brown-skinned man with tight curls stood in the doorway.

“Are you Mia?” he asked, shifting from side to side almost nervously.

“Yes,” she answered, Ekia and another woman’s voice echoing in the hallway.

The man’s face lit up as he shook her hand. “Thank goodness, for a minute I thought we had the wrong house.” He said, smiling at her.

She nodded, looking over as Ekia came into the living room with suitcases and the woman she heard earlier. She had dark skin with her hair in braids and a beauty mark near her eye and held herself with an authority.

“And then he had the nerve to call us at six in the morning—oh, Zidais, I told you we had the right house.” The woman said, taking Mia’s hand in hers. “It’s very nice to meet you finally. Oh, Ekia, she’s such a cute human.” She continued, taking Mia’s face in her hands. “She’s been going on and on about you ever since she moved in.”

“Momma,” Ekia whined, halfway up the stairs. “We talked about this before you guys got here.”

“Being the youngest out of eleven has made Ekia more,” Inai paused, searching for the right word as she sat on the left side of Mia as Zidais took the right.

“Independent,” Zidais supplied, folding his hands together. “So, Mia, what do you do for a living?” he asked.

Mia toyed with a curl of hair near her shoulder, answering, “I work as a literary agent. Granted, it’s probably not as exciting as—”

“That sounds wonderful.” Zidais interrupted. “Humans are some of the best at telling stories. Especially in those little, um, novels.”

“There was this one human who I enjoyed reading from,” Inai said. “It’s amazing you get to help those people. You’re the first human Ekia’s ever dated, and I’m glad you’re such a nice girl.”

“Thank you.” Most of the time when Mia told people that she was either asked if she could look at their work or that they had an idea that never went anywhere. It was nice for that to not happen for once. She excused herself as the doorbell rang and she let her parents in.

A noise she couldn’t quite place left her as she noticed Ekia tucked into the back of her mother’s scarf, tiny dragon arms outstretched as she leaped towards Mia while shifting into her human form.

Ekia smiled as her girlfriend brushed snow off her shoulders.

“I was wondering what was taking you so long,” Mia said, heading towards the living room.

“Your parents called me cause they got stuck on the side of the road and didn’t want to worry you.” She replied, “Then your mom said I could hitch a ride inside her scarf so no one would see me.”

Mia watched her and Ekia’s parents for a moment to ensure they were occupied before leading Ekia to their room. She closed the door behind them, smiling as Ekia tilted her head. Mia always loved it when she did that.

“Is something wrong?” Ekia asked, blinking as Mia held her hand.

“I’m the first human you’ve ever dated?” she asked.

Ekia looked away from her for a moment, replying, “Well, you are the only human who’s found my cave. Also, you’re the only human who’s been calm at seeing a dragon. . .you’re smart and pretty too, so yes. Unlike elves who—”

Mia cut her off with a kiss, a second for good measure and earning her a chirp. “No elf slander, they make good cookies.” She said, pulling away. “Now, we have parents to spend time with, so we should head back downstairs.”

Ekia nodded, a bit of smoke puffing into the air as she huffed. “I just hope my mom didn’t bring egg and hatchling pictures.” She mumbled, watching Mia grin.

“I hope so, aren’t baby dragons supposed to be cute?”

A/N: I’m still on a horror kick and then I remembered something about nursery rhymes so uh yeah.

He had many names. Well, last names at the most. Gentle, Frost, Horner, those sorts of things. He only used them when he really needed to. Like now, in a little packed bar in Chicago. A man sat in one of the booths by himself, having clearly gotten off work if the askew tie and blue blazer said anything.

A/N: Grease reference, I know. Anyway, happy birthday to @euclidiangod and I hope your day goes great!

“Where are we going?” Renae asked. She had asked Hope before they had gotten in the car, before Hope told her pack and she still hadn’t gotten an answer. No, the only thing she got was Hope turning the radio up and a smile.

If there was one thing Renae was jealous of about her girlfriend, was that A) She could afford to do things like a spontaneous road trip and B) She kept her secrets well. Okay, two things but still. If where ever Hope was taking her could be called a secret.

Hope reached over, patting Renae’s hand. “Relax, we’re almost there.” She said, returning her attention to the road.

The sun had started to set when the car finally stopped and at some point Renae had dozed off, jumping when Hope shook her awake. She yawned, squeezing her eyes shut as she stretched. “Where are—?” she stopped, slowly getting out the car.

Waves crashed against the pink shore. Gulls called and flew overhead to settle in for the night or peck at an abandoned, sand covered hotdog.

A/N:  I didn’t create Camila @jediannsolo did and I figured this would keep me busy as finals end. As a personal headcanon, I’d say Camila is Afro-Latina cause why not. All of this is just speculation and from half of my bad memory.

A hard thump jolted Camila awake. She groaned, looking at black boots and blue pant legs. Great, a cop.

“You can’t stay here, public property.” He said, tapping his baton against the bench she was sleeping on.

Camila stood, starting to walk away. It wouldn’t do any good to stick around with a cop, he would’ve put her six feet deep anyway. She just felt lucky today.

Even though she couldn’t remember exactly when she had a roof over her head, something felt good. Maybe it was the old woman who gave her this scarf or the man who had given her enough money to buy food yesterday. Well, enough to get something for the people she roosted with as well.