#AND i figured out what i was doing wrong and have since adjusted my methods pls stop yelling at me to use my hands!!! i learned how to lock

[tlbodine]

Stuck? Try junebugging.

I don't know who needs to hear this, but we're 5 days into nanowrimo so maybe this will be helpful.

Do you want the safety and surety of knowing what happens next in your story but can't stick to an outline? Does knowing in advance what will happen suck the joy out of discovery writing? Do you try to wing it through plots but get tangled in plot holes or have a story that runs out of steam because you can't figure out what went wrong? Are you at your most creative when you have a little bit of guidance? Do you tend to under-write? Do you get ideas in your head for random scenes and snippets that drop from the sky without context?

If any of these apply to you, junebugging a draft might be for you!

What Is Junebugging?

Since you're on Tumblr, you might already be familiar with the concept of junebugging as it relates to cleaning. If not -- I think the idea was first introduced to me by @jumpingjacktrash.

The basic idea is that you tackle cleaning by way of controlled chaos. You pick a specific area you want to focus on, like your kitchen sink, and then wander off to deal with other things as they occur to you, but always returning back to that area. You end up cleaning a little bit at a time in an order that may not make sense to an outsider but which keeps you from getting overwhelmed and discouraged.

How Does Junebugging Work in Writing?

OK, so that's great, but how does this work with writing? Well. In my case, the general idea is to jump between writing linearly, outlining, and writing out of order. It usually looks something like:

Start free-writing a scene, feeling my way through it and enjoying the discovery process.

Thinking, ok, now I have this scene, did anything need to happen to lead up to it? Do I need to go back and add some foreshadowing? Does this scene set anything up that needs to be paid off? And then jump forward/back to make those adjustments.

I'll usually have a bunch of disconnected ideas of ideas that have popped into my head, so I'll write those down in a list somewhere and then try to figure out what goes in between them and what order it goes in.

I'll write what I call "micro-scenes" which is where I'll just sketch out a few essential elements of what's going on without worrying too much about details, description, etc. -- just he did this, she said that, the setting was this, real bare-bones script. Then I can come back through and flesh out each of those microscenes into an actual scene later.

Got a story that has a complex structure? No problem. Write through each storyline one at a time and then chop them up and weave them together afterward. Write all the B plot scenes first then come back through to do A plot and C plot. Move the pieces around like legos. No one ever has to know.

This method works for me because I can't "decide" story elements in advance. I have never been able to just sit down and "figure out" what happens in a story beyond a couple steps ahead -- I have to discovery-write my way forward. But at the same time, that gets really daunting. So I zoom forward with micro-scenes, roughing out the beats in the most bare-bones way possible, then when I run out of clear vision for what happens next I backtrack, flesh out those scenes, build in connective tissue, etc. and by then I will probably find more inspiration to jump forward.

It's basically folding drafting, outlining, and revising all together into a single phase of writing, which is chaotic and goes against everything people teach you, but if it works? then it fuckin works.

Anyway, sorry for the jumbled-up post, I'm dashing this off quickly while I heat up a pizza and I'm about to dive back into my WIP -- but I hope this was a little helpful. If nothing else, take this as my blanket permission that it's 100% OK to jump around, write out of order, write messy, outline sometimes, pants sometimes, and do whatever else it takes just to get through the story. You've got this. Good luck.

#writing tips #nanowrimo #writing advice #nano 2023 #writeblr #writing community #plotting vs pantsing #junebugging

[timetravelingpenguin1066]

Of Irland, Chapter 20

Chapter 1 \\ Chapter 19 \\ Series Masterlist

Instead of being taken captive in Winchester, Stiorra leaves for Irland with a friend of her father’s. There she meets Sigtryggr, a Dane, the grandson of Ivar the Boneless.

Chapter 20: Yule Log

Chapter warnings: language, blood eagle, fluff Words: 2000 AO3

“Brother!”

“Go find a whore to play with.” Sigtryggr was not dealing with his brother's shit. Not now, not that day. That night, they would finally set the Yol log alight. It was a time for peace, not shit-brother shit.

“Brother,” Ivar said again, clapping a hand on his shoulder to keep him from turning away.

“What do you want, Ivar?” Sigtryggr sighed. “Have you killed another woman? You want me to clean up your mess again?”

“No, no, nothing like that, no.” Ivar sighed, shaking his head. “It’s all very bad business, but I’m sure you’d understand.”

“Whatever shit you’ve got yourself into, brother, know that I have no interest in helping you.”

“But you see, the thing is, you are the only one who can help me.” Ivar was smirking now. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. “I would think you’d want to since it’s got to do with your little toy.”

“What?”

“The girl.” Sigtryggr growled. ‘Hump thing’ was bad enough. He didn’t need ‘toy’ too.

“I am going to make you a deal. She attends the Blood Eagle.”

“No, she will be looking after our sisters.”

“You are not hearing me, brother.” Ivar’s voice dropped lower. The way it did when he made a threat. “She will attend the Blood Eagle. Or our sisters do. Choose. You have until tonight.”

“And what will you do if I refuse?”

“What do you think I will do?”

Shit.

Ivar would take her to his rooms and do unspeakable things to her. Sigtryggr could not allow that.

“Fine.”

Ivar had already done so many Blood Eagles. It was his favourite method. Especially with Christians. They always screamed. With other Danes, it was less fun for him, as they stayed silent. Ivar would silently pray to the gods to curse the man and make him scream so that he would never go to Valhalla. Sigtryggr did not want to watch it, but he had no choice. Shaking his head, mentally cursing his brother, he stomped upstairs to inform Stiorra that there had been a change of plans.

***

It was still new to Stiorra to have someone dress her. She figured she could probably get into the clothes she’d been gifted for Yol herself. Instead of a dress, she wore a loose embroidered dark blue linen shirt, paired with a linen skirt of the same colour. The shirt had two long threads hanging from the neck, which ended in tassels. The skirt wrapped around her waist. She also wore several petticoats underneath the skirt. Drifa had said the heat from the flames would be too hot for anything, but Stiorra still took precautions.

“Are we going to talk about it?” Aisling asked as she adjusted the skirt.

“Talk about what?”

“You know, him.”

“How is it you know everything?”

“It’s obvious you like him.”

“No, it is not.”

“It is.”

Stiorra gave up.

“So, are we going to talk about it?”

“What is there to talk about?”

Aisling sighed, shaking her head. There really wasn’t much to talk about. Yes, she may be certain she loved Sigtryggr, but there was no way to find out if he felt the same.

“At least he’s letting you miss the sacrifice to look after his sweet little sisters.”

Stiorra laughed. “Gudrid runs rings around me, Aldis chases after her. They may look sweet, but trust me, they are little demons.”

A knock sounded on the door. Aisling hurried to answer it.

It was Sigtryggr, but something was wrong. He seemed annoyed at something, or perhaps angry.

“Stiorra.” He nodded at her. “Aisling.” The maid curtseyed. “May I come in?”

“You may,” she said, her smile fading.

He walked in, head bowed, eyes downcast. Something was troubling him.

He sighed, heavily. “There has been… a change of plans.”

That wasn’t good. He clenched his jaw and continued. “You will attend the Blood Eagle.”

“What?”

“Believe me, it was not my idea.”

Stiorra nodded, understanding. “Ivar.”

“Ivar,” he repeated. “He told me that if you did not go, my sisters would have to, and the he would…” he sighed.

She didn’t need to hear it. “I will come. It’s fine.”

“It is not fine!” Sigtryggr almost yelled.

“You should not have to watch it.”

“And yet I will. To protect your sisters and myself.”

Sigtryggr clenched his fists. “I want to kill him.”

Stiorra smiled. “And then he can go to the deepest blackest pits of Niflheim, and suffer for all eternity.”

At least that one made him smile. “Please, don’t make me laugh about killing my brother.”

Aisling stepped up then. “They’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Sigtryggr nodded. “I have a gift for you.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “Turn around and close your eyes.”

Stiorra did as instructed. “I thought the time for gifts was tomorrow.”

“You will need this one tonight.”

Something metal fell around her neck.

“Open them,” he whispered in her ear.

Hanging around her neck on a length of leather cord was a…

Thors hammer.

“Now you are a Dane.”

***

The drums beat. The flames seemed to pulse. There was a tension in the air, an excitement.

Stiorra wore her new hammer necklace. She felt like a Dane.

Sigtryggr walked beside her, holding her hand. She couldn’t deny that she was nervous. Blood Eagling was supposedly the most terrible punishment that could be bestowed upon anyone.

There was a tug on her hand, and Sigtryggr led her to one side of the procession.

“I have to go now, and join my brothers,” he said. She nodded.

Then he did something.

He raised his free hand to cup her cheek. He came closer and closer.

This is it.

But it wasn’t.

He kissed her cheek, just a light brush of his lips, the slight tickle of his facial hair.

And then he was gone.

What was that?

Was it some attempt to distract her? Or…

Was he trying to kiss her, but missed?

It was unlikely that Sigtryggr would miss.

Stiorra didn’t even realise she was standing in front of the dias until she almost walked right into it.

Two posts stood nailed to the wooden deck, spread far enough apart to hold a man’s arms. Ivar was standing to one side, sharpening a small axe.

Ivar glanced up as his brother’s stepped up. Sigtryggr held Rognvaldr by the scruff of his neck. He looked drunk, as usual. But then, given the circumstances, who wouldn’t be. The men gathered held mugs of ale and were cheering. When Faloan was finally dragged up in chains, they cheered louder still.

But when Drifa finally stepped onto the stage, the silence was deafening. Drifa had that sort of power, the power to silence all.

“Welcome, friends!” she called out over the many heads. “Welcome!”

A group of men brought in the Yule Log.

“Who’s ready for Yule?” Drifa yelled to the excited and now cheering crowd.

She held her hands up again to silence them. And Ivar stepped forwards.

“The gods demand a sacrifice,” he said. “And a sacrifice we shall give them.”

Stiorra had heard many times over that the Blood Eagle was the worst way to die.

They underestimated it.

However much Stiorra may have hated Faolan for almost killing Sigtryggr, she could hardly bear to watch as Ivar slashed open his back, grinning with glee as the blood splattered on his face and clothes. Watching this, it was easy to understand why so many people preferred Sigtryggr over his brother. Ivar was a sadistic monster, while Sigtryggr was kind.

Stiorra glanced at him. Sigtryggr wasn’t even watching, just staring blankly at the floor with an expression of hate on his face. He must have sensed her watching, as he looked back up at her, apology written all over.

Suddenly the screams stopped, replaced by a squelching and a gurgling. Stiorra whipped her head back to the source. Drifa stood there, having cut Faolan’s throat while Ivar stared in disbelief. The people started muttering.

Stiorra was close enough to hear what was going on.

“What are you doing?” Ivar hissed.

“I don’t know, but the gods are here tonight.”

“You mean to say the gods told you to stop me from pleasing them?”

“Perhaps the gods did not find this pleasing.” With that, Drifa left the stage with a swish of her cloak, walking down the steps at the front. She grabbed a torch and strode over to the Yol log that had been carried in and placed on a stack of twigs.

As she lit it, and the flames roared into life, the people cheered.

Someone started a chant of “Yol.”

Stiorra was almost swept up by the crowd. A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back out. As usual, Sigtryggr.

He pulled her out and away from the crowds to somewhere where she could hear him.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “People here tend to get a little rough on Yol.”

“You think that was rough?” she joked. “You should try putting up with Finan and Sihtric getting Osferth in trouble.”

Music started up somewhere and people were beginning to dance.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked.

Rather than answering, Stiorra took his hand and tugged him along.

This Yol was going to be a good one.

***

Some hours later…

Sigtryggr was drunk. He wasn’t usually, but Yol was the time to let things like this slide. It was a time of celebration and memory. Drifa’s story was meant to remind them how easily things can be forgotten, and how easily all that is good and light can be snuffed out.

That wasn’t his reason for being drunk though. On Yol, everyone’s inhibitions were right down. In nine months time, chances are several dozen babies would be born, bastards and all.

Best thing to do in most cases was get drunk. This way, he would not perform. And besides, it was what was best for Stiorra. He was not going to do something stupid, not now. He’d already slipped, kissing her on the cheek. It hadn’t been much, just a brush of lips against her soft, smooth skin. It was getting harder and harder to resist imagining what her lips felt like.

The banging of a mug being slammed down beside him woke him up from his reverie. Sigtryggr groaned. Anlaf, Guðrøðr and Drifa. This was going well.

“So,” Anlaf began, “what are you going to do?”

“About what?” he grunted.

“The girl,” Guðrøðr giggled, drunkenly. “Well?”

“Are you going to hump her?” Anlaf finished.

“Or better yet,” Asgard said, sitting with them, “make sweet, sweet love to her.”

Drifa giggled. Great. She was also drunk.

“Why are you doing this?” Sigtryggr groaned again, putting his head in his hands. He should’ve seen this one coming.

“I would like to make a bet,” Drifa spluttered.

“No.”

“I bet that you will have her before the end of Yol.”

“No.”

“I dare you.”

Sigtryggr glared, once again wondering how in Midgard someone so small could be so annoying.

“Come on, my friend!” said Anlaf. “It is Yol. It is the time to let that upright self-control of yours go to shit. It is them time for Heitstrenging!”

“No!”

“Are you refusing to swear a solemn oath on Yol?” Drifa challenged. “Are you refusing the Heitstrenging?”

Sigtryggr was drunk enough by now to make any Heitstrenging he swore binding.

Now, even when he was drunk, Sigtryggr typically still had his usual ‘upright self- control,’ as his friend so rightly put it. But then like Anlaf said, Yol was the time to let all that go to shit.

He took a long drink of his ale, then slammed the cup in the table. He wrapped his hands around the Thor’s Hammer pendant hanging from his neck. “I swear to you she will be mine before Yol’s end.”

The four gathered cheered and clapped. “There we go,” Drifa said. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

#the last kingdom #tlk fics #sigtryggr #stiorra

[passionfruitbowls]

@ladrienjune day 2: wingwoman alya 

—————

Ladybug paces in circles around the rooftop where she had chosen to ‘take a breather’, a piece of paper in hand as she tries to memorise the plan that she and Alya had come up with a few days earlier. Unfortunately, she isn’t having much luck, and the fact that she’s currently standing close enough to the Agreste mansion to be spotted only adds to the pressure.

The plan basically consists of… somewhat vague bullet points. Not only that, but she can easily figure out which ones she wrote and which ones Alya must have scribbled down when she wasn’t looking:

Go to Adrien’s house

Get in without being noticed (keep an eye out for Nathalie and bodyguard)

Tell Adrien you want to talk to him

Confess, and be sincere

He falls in love with you (hopefully)

Seriously? ‘He falls in love with you, hopefully’? The rest of the plan seems fine, but how on Earth is that going to help her?

It doesn’t take long for her to start thinking about the worst case scenario, about what might happen if she ends up doing or saying the wrong thing. God, she can practically see the news headlines now: TEENAGE CELEBRITY HEARTBREAK? SON OF RENOWNED FASHION DESIGNER TURNED DOWN BY LADYBUG!

After a few minutes of hand-wringing, she pauses, then thinks back to her and Alya’s conversation yesterday.

“Listen, you love Adrien, right?” Alya had asked as she adjusted her glasses.

“Of course!” Marinette had responded.

“And you’re absolutely, one hundred percent sure that you want to do this as Ladybug?”

Then she had closed her eyes and taken a deep breath - which is what she does now, in the present - before answering, “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then go for it! Besides, isn’t it better to just find out what his reaction will be rather than spend your entire life wondering?”

Ladybug smiles and stares at the Agreste mansion a few houses away, at Adrien’s bedroom window which he never seems to close. Alya was right, it was better. Sure, it had taken her some time to get to this point, but she’s here now and ready to try.

Once she’s latched her yo-yo onto the nearest chimney, Ladybug braces herself and begins the short journey to the mansion. All the while, Alya’s advice to ‘be sincere’ is on her mind, as she tries to remain calm. Calm, sincere and collected. She could be all of those things. In fact, right now she’s the calmest she’s ever been.

…At least, she is until she comes into contact with Adrien’s window, due to being a little too caught up in her own thoughts.

Ladybug winces as she hears the loud thud of her head hitting the glass, but still manages to grab onto the window frame. It only takes a few seconds for someone to rush over, poke their head out and gasp upon seeing her.

“Ladybug! Are you alright?” Adrien asks as he grabs her wrists and hoists her up so that they’re face-to-face. She can hear the concern in his voice, but it takes her a moment to answer him, since her first thought is ‘No, because you’re here in front of me and oh my God why is he looking at me like that and why are our faces so close-’

She clears her throat and nods quickly.

“Erm, yeah, of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”

She holds her breath and waits for him to ask why she’s here, or at least make a comment about how she should surely be somewhere else, but he doesn’t. He just breathes a sigh of relief and smiles.

“That’s good. Do you, uh- do you wanna come inside for a bit?”

Holding back a shriek, Ladybug nods again and climbs in through the window, watching as Adrien clears a space on his couch for her. Who would’ve thought that her ‘attempt to enter via crashing into a window’ method could be so successful?

#THIS IS UM. QUITE A BIT LONGER THAN I ORIGINALLY PLANNED #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug fanfic #ladrien june #ladrien #ladybug #adrien agreste #pfb writes

[infiniteeight8]

cosplay plans for the next 6-12 months

Rose City Comic Con is in 6 months, and next ECCC is 12 months away, so here's the stuff I have planned for the next year. A bunch of repairs and improvements, one old project that I still want to finish, and two (related) new projects that I just came up with in the last day or two.

Repairs & Improvements

Star Lord armour: - Test magnets as the new armour-to-bodysuit attachment method. - Assuming the magnets work, install a whole lotta magnets. - Replace/Repair the shoulder clip that's missing half the clip. - Super glue the velcro to the head piece. - Adjust boots to fit over running shoes. (And you thought the two boot adjustments I've done were the end of it! LOL.)

Paladin armour: - Figure out how to fix up the shoulders. (I could just adjust the positioning of the left one, but I'm considering permanently attaching the superstructure to the substructure. The only problem with that is that they will take up roughly 3x as much space in my luggage at a result, so I have to ponder.) - Put a clear coat on all the armour parts. - Repair the chipped paint on the shoe armour. - Install rubber/foam edges on the leg armour to hopefully prevent further shoe armour damage. - Add moar magnets to the flames so that they stay on better. - Make a mechanical attachment for the belt piece (the magnets work, but fall off way too easy--I'll relax more wearing it if its more secure).

Green Lantern - Eventually, remake the boots. Again. Don't get me wrong, I think they turned out well given the rush, but I can do better. - Replace the gloves. They're getting a bit tattered. - Possibly remake the pants. Honestly, they're too small. I can squeeze into them, but they kind of... slide down during the day. But if I'm really lucky, by the time I get around to doing this, it won't be necessary anymore. (Unlikely, but hey, you never know.)

In Progress (generalized points, as this is a long term project and I don't see the point of listing every tiny step separately at this stage)

Tron armour: - Finish making the helmet. - Probably re-make the bottom part of the boots. I can't recall which shoe I made it for. - Test the fit of the rest of the armour and adjust as needed. (I've gained weight since making it originally.) - Figure out the attachments. Never did get these working to my satisfaction, although I have a vague memory of what I planned to try after attempt #1 failed. - Determine amount of EL wire needed for the lighting / Figure out EL wire mounting strategy. Order & Install EL wire. - Make the undersuit. - Figure out how not to die of heat exhaustion while wearing a full body vinyl undersuit and a a near full body armour, including helmet, made out of layers of plastic and foam and absolutely covered in lighting.

New Projects (generalized as above)

Project #1: Captain Marvel leather jacket. Yes, I know people sell various versions. No, I don't like any of those enough to buy them. My sewing skills are very limited, so this will be a long term project involving a lot of test/learning stages.

Project #2: Captain Marvel armour. Yes, I like the design enough to make this sucker twice in two different styles. The armour would be EVA foam, not worbla. I've never worked in EVA foam before, but I've worked with other types of foam, and I've done armour generally. I still expect a learning curve, but I'm much more comfortable with this project than with Project #1.

#cosplay

[raising-addy]

So it’s been a while! I’ve been adjusting to new life. I had finally given birth in February to a beautiful baby girl. We will call her Addy, she has been the most precious gift! I love her with all my heart.

So I figure since I’m up and can’t sleep I’ll share my birth story.

On Feb 13th around 11pm at night I had returned home with SO, SD,SS. I always had problems with pregnancy insomnia, so falling asleep and waking up at 2ish in the morning was no surprise. What was a surprise was awaking to find my whole body completely swollen. I could not close my hands and knew something was wrong. Now I probably should of had an ambulance take me, but little stubborn me just drove myself to the hospital. I went through the Er doors and explained to them the situation. My blood pressure down there was sky high, I can’t even really remember the numbers. I was brought upstairs immediately and out in a labor triage. They were appalled by me never having a urine sample done throughout the pregnancy. My levels of protein were sky high (shocker right) . I was told they will be inducing me asap, thankfully I had made it to 39 weeks at this time so I wasn’t too frightened. They did though also found out then I had covid which was a pain in the ass. Not so much the symptoms but the way they treated me at that point.

Moving on to the induction.. I was booked into a room and the first method was cervadil ( if I butcher spellings get over it) I got that placed early that morning, it practically did nothing for me. I also coming into the hospital was 0 dilated and only like 50% effaced. I think by the time they finished that I had only gone to 2 cm dilated. I decided early on to get my epidural only because I’m shitty at staying still when nervous ontop of trying to stay still during contractions I just wanted it placed early on so no complications. After that they had me take a pill I cannot for the life of me remember the pill name, but it was supposedly a 2 part drug I had to take half then in about like 4/8 hours I had to take the other part. The problem was I did not react well to that drug and neither did Addy. My epidural started failing around this time, I believe I was at 4 cm around this time. They then had givin me stadol which I had a strange reaction to. I’m very light weight when it comes to drugs so that knocked me for a loop. I remember something feeling wrong though through all of that. By this time they were trying to induce me for 36 ish hours. I remember the lady coming in and me being about 4 cm still and since they weren’t going to give me that second part of the pill she broke my water hoping it would help. I had started getting a high fever and my blood pressure was going all wonky along with the baby’s heart rate. I can’t remember the time from my water was broke to the doctor coming in and tapping me awake and explaining we are going to do a c-section. I was so happy, I was so ungodly tired and I’m so much discomfort. It was within minutes they prepped me and brought me back. I was so thankful they allowed my mother back there with me. It was a few moments later that my baby was born and it felt like the longest few seconds waiting for her to cry, but she did and it was beautiful. We had come to find out we ended up getting an infection in the placenta most likely after the water had been broke from my understanding. Regardless of how hard everything has been, from being high risk since day one, to getting an emergent cerclage done, being completely bed bound, labor and after words months later. I would do it all again over and over cause being her mom is the best thing I ever done. And now it’s all just doing my duty and raising Addy

#rainbowbaby #motherhood #firstborn

[toytulini]

imagine how powerful id be if i was simply allowed to climb shit as much as i wanted as a child smh

#toy txt post #i used to try to climb and want to climb EVERYTHING i was Decent at it and imagine if instead of being scolded #for climbing things i was instead. allowed to go feral. maybe i would still be able to fucking climb things #on the one hand i understand that the adults around me didnt want me to get hurt. its completely valid in that respect #but on the other hand @ the afterschool program person pls let me dangle from the geometric dome with only 2 points of contact instead of 3! #i know i fell on my head last time and that wasnt fun but it was a very short fall (like maybe an inch off the ground) and i was fine!! #AND i figured out what i was doing wrong and have since adjusted my methods pls stop yelling at me to use my hands!!! i learned how to lock #my feet around the other bars so i wouldnt fall its fine now!! if other kids are doing it too why dont yoy just let me teach them how to do #it right now that i have it figured out!! smh. also maybe. i shouldnt have climbed on top of the swingset and the roof of the playground at #the neighborhood park like okay that was admittedly not the safest but LISTEN it was FUN and i was FINE. #unfortunately my method of doing that at the park was basically to take my shoes off to get a grip on the smooth metal part and. #quite frankly i dont think i could do that today i fucking hate being barefoot. awful #maybe if i brought my shoes up with me lmao #god i want...to climb something #not...a tree. there are always bugs in trees and i have a Bad Time #brb gonna go fucking. stand on the halfwall or smth :( #anyway i could be so powerful. yall i was climbing shit before i could walk!!! i used to escape my crib by climbing over the side and #kicking the thingy to make the gate drop while i was clinging to it and ride it down and then crawl all over. i was a menace #my first real bed was a bunk bed but parents took the ladder off bc they were worried about me climbing it bc they didnt want me to fall but #unfortunately i learned how to climb it without the ladder which was WORSE so then they had to put the ladder back on and convince me to use #it instead of the more fun way that i had found. i distinctly remember one time when i was sleeping on the top bunk regularly i injured my #leg somehow and i still climbed it every night bc i was a fucking goblin? anyway i miss having smth to climb #even if i hated how dark it made my bedroom by looming over everything and blocking out the light #cant have one now even if i wanted. ceiling is too low and i have a fan and it would be a Problem

[spenciegoob]

Who Needs Luck?

A/N: hi! I solely wrote this because of my 3 recent visits to NY (no, I sadly did not meet mgg)... plus i’ve been going there my whole life.. this is becoming the longest authors note, but as i’m writing I just want to say the people who work at food trucks in nyc are the nicest people ever, ask them about their day (AND TIP OMG PLS)

Summary: Reader invites Spencer to go to New York City with her where he finally sees the beauty right in front of him.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff!

Content Warnings: reader can’t drive very well (I apologize if this is a callout post), slight road rage, language

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

____

I never considered myself a lucky man. Life had proven time and time again that no matter how many four leaf clovers I set out to search for, how many pennies on the ground faced heads up I stumbled across, luck was never on my side. I’ve learned to live with it, accepted my fate as the world’s smartest punching bag long before I was even in college.

But then I met her, and as cheesy as it sounds, I didn’t need luck that morning.

The second I woke up, the universe seemed to have it out for me specifically. I swung my legs over my bed, and in my half asleep daze stepped on my glasses, successfully breaking them. Unable to see on my short trip to the bathroom, I stubbed my toe… twice. Once I finally finished my morning routine more methodically, I walked out of my apartment only to bump into a stranger, sending the coffee she was holding all the both of us.

I had tried to apologize so many times, cutting my words short when they didn’t feel right. I had gotten through a series of “I’m, uh, oh, I, you,” before her smile interrupted my thought process, leaving me awestruck instead.

“That’s okay, but you owe me a coffee now.” She giggled, actually giggled, even with the scorching liquid causing her shirt to stick to her body. “Maybe… together?”

I didn’t hesitate to agree, taking her up on the offer that weekend and never looking back. Even when a loud crash, followed by a quiet, harsh ‘shit’ woke me up in a startle, there was no regret. Maybe just a little concern for my girlfriend who now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, can be seen holding her knee on the floor of our bedroom.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered out, grabbing onto the dresser to stand straight again. Once she was on her feet, she came over to sit on the edge of our bed, immediately running her fingers through my hair. If I wasn’t so worried about her knee, I probably would’ve fell asleep again.

“Are you okay?” She giggled at my scratchy morning voice before nodding her head. It’s then I realized how the sun hasn’t even begun to rise, the room still pitchblack. “What are you doing up?”

“Getting ready to go to the city, sleepyhead,” she said as if it was the most obvious answer, but truthfully, it left me with more questions.

“At... 5 am?” I sat up, glancing at the alarm clock three times just to make sure I was reading it right. She may have always been a little strange, but usually at a reasonable hour.

At this, she stood up to continue getting ready for the very early morning. Now I notice why she fell, the piles of clothes leading to the closet had to have at least half of her outfits compiled together.

“Well, yeah. I want to get there before noon.” Even in my perplexed state, I rose from the bed and carefully tiptoed around haphazardly thrown clothes to reach her.

While wrapping my arms around her waist still hidden under my t-shirt, I questioned. “It’s right outside? You have 7 hours.”

She turned to look at me funny as if I wasn’t the one digging through clothes and waking up before dawn to walk literally 5 minutes to my desired location. My eyebrows must have subconsciously furrowed at one point, because she brought her hand up to stroke her thumb on my forehead. Immediately, I felt the tension melt, no longer caring to correct my confusion. She still did it anyway.

“Not DC, silly. New York!” I wish it were untrue, but my heart dropped at her words. She was leaving, going to a city I wasn’t familiar with beyond reading about, solving cases, and memorizing subway maps. Is this how she feels every time I board that jet?

“W-what? You’re just going to New York City?” I inwardly cringed at how desperate and sad I sounded, but I really didn’t want her to leave.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, turning back around to return digging in her closet.

“For how long?” Please change your mind. Please change your mind. Please change you-

Realizing that I was fully awake, she let out a boisterous laugh, allowing the way it bounced off our four little walls to return back to us. It was a sound most treasured. “I was hoping to get back around 9.”

“What?” I leaned back to look at her like she was absolutely preposterous. I mean, she was!

“Roadtrip!”

That’s how I found myself in the passenger seat of her car, no coffee in my hand because I wasn’t allowed until I have “a real cup of coffee.” Whatever the hell that means better happen soon, because as much as I loved watching the way she concentrates on the road in front of her, my eyes were starting to droop.

“It’s going to be another 4 hours. You can sleep, my love.” How she knew me so well, I will never be able to figure out, but I was out before we even made it across state borders.

That however, didn’t last very long. My girlfriend may be short and sweet, but behind the wheel? That’s a different story. The horn to her car is a very familiar sound when I’m jolted awake by a sudden stop.

“Really, asshole? Go!” She yelled, slamming her hand against the top of the steering wheel before looking over at me. “Hey, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to wake you yet. I forgot how awful drivers are here.”

“Where is here exactly?” I questioned, sitting up from my slouched position to find cars practically on top of each other on a road not wide enough for two lanes.

“New Jersey. We’re 10 minutes away.” Wow, I didn’t realize I slept for that long, and I have to admit I’m a little surprised I wasn’t woken up sooner.

“How are we 10 minutes away? It’s at least another 30 to get to the tunnel.” Looking at our surroundings didn’t help me determine our exact location. To the left of us, there were dozens of graffiti murals on the side of what I assumed was another elevated highway. To the right, sidestreets with local businesses ranging from auto repair shops to fast food joints to gyms.

“Nuh uh, stop analyzing mister. You’ll know when we get there.” She waved a finger in my directions, putting a pin in my scrutinization. I pouted right back, successfully playing along to the theme of her scolding me like a 5 year old.

“I don’t like surprises you know.” It was the truth, but her contagious laughter that filled the car made me slightly less disinclined to stop asking questions.

“Oh I know, but trust me, you’ll like this one.” She went to go reach over to grab my hand from where it was resting in my lap, but stopped short and retracted in favor of slamming the horn. “Oh, come on!”

***

“So you drove to a train station... in New Jersey?” I asked while she was… attempting to park the car.

“Well, yeah. I’ve been taking this route since I was a little girl.” Once she finally figured out how to evenly space a two door convertible in a very spacious parking spot, she unbuckled her seatbelt, and was quick to grab her bag from the backseat. “Well, come on mister, we’re going to miss the train.”

To be quite honest, I have never been so lost in my life. I could probably pinpoint our exact location on a map if I wanted to, granted I was given any sort of information, but part of me didn’t want to. Scratch that, all of me didn’t want to, because my entire life has been planned out in front of me before, but right now, I get to be spontaneous with the most beautiful girl on the planet.

“Don’t let go of my hand,” she told me, lacing our fingers together and pulling me forward. “Don’t stop to look around, you will get pushed.”

We made it inside, and if I thought the DC transit system was bustling with people constantly, this place was so much worse. There were hallways left and right, all packed with people in a rush. It seems everybody had some place to be and zero time to get there.

“Upstairs.” We walked up two flights before reaching a platform, buying our tickets and making it just in time for a train to arrive. “I know they come every 8 minutes, but thank god we made this one,” she said as she sat down.

The cart we were in wasn’t too crowded, and once I finally found a map on the wall across from us, I saw that it was a direct ride to the World Trade Center.

“You said you took this train when you were little?”

“Yeah, I went to the city a lot as a kid. This was the easiest, and the cheapest way there.” A small smile played at her lips, obviously the product of some childhood memory. “I used to hop it.”

“Of course you did,” I laughed back with her, thinking about how an innocent looking child would be the first person to get away with sneaking onto the train.

***

“I said it before, I will say it again. Do not let go of my hand.” This time it was more stern, and if I were being honest, I would say that it got me the slightest bit nervous. She must have noticed, she always does, because she continued. “Don’t worry, it just gets congested and I don’t want to lose you.”

She was right about that, it indeed was very congested, but that was okay because she was holding my hand, and I would follow her just about anywhere if it meant she kept looking over her shoulder and smiling when she saw me. Once we made it across the way, and in front of heavy looking glass doors, she turned to me and started walking backwards.

“You okay? This is definitely not off to a great start.” She was wrong, it was off to a perfect start.

“Yeah, I’m okay, but you might want to watch where you’re going,” I said before her back hit the door.

“Please I can get here with my eyes closed.” And then we were outside, and all 5 of my senses were hit immediately. The sun was shining down on us, and before I could complain about not bringing my sunglasses, she handed them to me. My heart fluttered at the innocent act, taking the sunglasses with such gratitude even though she had already moved on to retrieve hers. “Do you smell that?” She asked.

“There are a lot of answers to that question,” I told her, not knowing if she was talking about the smell of the construction happening at the corner, the permanent garbage smell or something entirely different.

“The hotdogs, silly. Come on, there’s nothing like ‘em.” This time, I laced our fingers together, not because I was scared of losing her, I was, but I just really wanted to be closer to her. She didn’t mind, in fact, she let out a content hum and leaned her head on my arm as we walked to the stand.

“Can I get four hotdogs with sauerkraut and two grape sodas,” she asked the vendor, who politely nodded before moving on to prepare our food.

“You’re going to have a heart attack by 35,” I said as I nudged her with my shoulder. She gave me a small push back before answering.

“Is that a doctor’s diagnosis?” She asked as she took our now ready food into her hands, after paying the man before I even had time to blink. I just grabbed the two cans of soda and followed her where she was making a beeline for a park bench. “Watch out for skaters.”

“Yes, it is indeed a doctor's diagnosis.” I unwrapped one of the hotdogs before taking a bite. I closed my eyes and let out a content hum. “It may be a little worth it.”

“Exactly.” We sat there quietly, enjoying the warm weather and sounds of wheels against pavement. At one point, she rested her head against my shoulder, and I am convinced wherever she went would be Heaven.

***

“Are your eyes closed?” We found ourselves with both our hands interlocked, my eyes closed while she walked backwards. I gave an ‘mhm’ before she continued. “We’re here, just keep them closed, and…” her words trailed off. “Okay open.”

I opened my eyes to her holding her arms out in the middle of the largest bookstore I’ve ever seen. “Surprise!” My eyes were bouncing everywhere. It wasn’t too crowded, the large stairwell across the store catching my eye first. There were bookshelves tens of feet high, all loaded with different genres and authors. To the right of us, tiny knick knacks and pins and socks. It was beautiful.

“Wow,” I whispered out, still stuck in my place admiring our surroundings. She was beaming up at me, a hint of pride at her successfulness to drag me 6 hours away to the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.

“The Strand has always been my favorite place in the city. Come on, let’s go explore.” She grabbed my hands again, pulling me deeper into the store towards a shelf labeled adult fiction.

***

Six books, three pairs of socks and a postcard later, we were back on the busy streets of New York, aimlessly walking and admiring the tall buildings and different attractions. Well she was, I was admiring the way she was looking around like it was her first time here. Maybe I should have been paying more attention to our surroundings, but no amount of skyscrapers or fountains could possibly ever match up to her level of beauty. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” I asked randomly, startling her into jumping a tiny bit before giggling. She stopped us, turning to face me fully before reaching up to grab my face in her hands.

“Once or twice.” The kiss we shared on the New York streets were no different than the ones before, but this time, it felt like a silent promise. A passing between two lovers that no matter where we are, our love is the most beautiful thing there is. “I love you too, dork.”

___

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[itsallyscorner]

can you write something comforting with bucky? like, bucky being the reader's safe place from everything bad in her life and the only one who actually cares about her?

My first Bucky imagine! He’s my best boy he deserves so much love🥺 Enough about me tho, thank you for the request lovely and I hope you like it!🖤

 This is my first time writing for Bucky so I hope I did good🥺

💌.

You’ll Get There

Warning: Steve is kinda a dick in this one.

You were a monster.

You were created to destroy and kill not save people or stand alongside the heroes. Which is why living in the Avengers Tower was unsettling. It was wrong, you didn’t belong there. Your father was an ex member of Hydra. He was one of the most loyal and trustworthy masterminds who was close to Strucker. Until one day, when he and Strucker got into a disagreement concerning a confidential project.

Years of his ideas and experimental methods being declined your father eventually left Hydra and did his experiments in his own basement. With no volunteers for a test subject he used you against your will. At just the age of 5, you were used as a test subject, getting things injected into you and going under inhumane methods to turn you into what you were today.

Wanda sent a blast towards you, you tried to focus on the energy surrounding the red orb, manipulating it so you can control it. You used all your might but the feeling of Steve’s stare intimidated you. The blast came into contact with your stomach forcing you onto the floor. Steve who’s been watching on the side sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. You’ve been training with Wanda ever since you were rescued by the Avengers. From what Steve saw through your training there was barely any improvement. You were decent when it came to hand to hand combat and weaponry, but you couldn’t control your powers at all.

You’ve been in the training room for hours with Wanda. She’s been throwing blasts of her powers towards you while you had to try to manipulate it and use it against her. You were successful a few times and got to control the blast, but weren’t able to force it back at Wanda. You remained on the floor laying on your back since the impact of the blast made you loose your breath.

“(Y/n).” You snapped your head at Steve. The tone of his voice reminded you of the tone your father would have when you disappointed him during an experiment.

You rushed to get up and dusted yourself off to face the Captain. He towered over you with a look of exasperation on his face.

“We’ve been doing the same thing for months, why can’t you control your powers yet?” He questioned you an edge to his voice. You knew he was a nice man but the frustration of having to deal with you was probably getting to him.

“I— I don’t know. I just can’t manipulate it correctly. My mind won’t focus—,” you tried to explain but Steve cut you off.

“Well what’s it going to take for you to focus? We’ve been doing these sessions since you were rescued, (y/n), get a grip!” He yelled. You took a step back at his outburst.

“You think I asked you to rescue me?”

“Because I didn’t! I was perfectly fine living on my own hiding away from all of this! All you want from me are my powers, so you can use me to be part of your group! You want me to do this and do that! I’m tired! We’ve been training nonstop Steve!” You yelled back at him. Steve’s eyes widen at your outburst. You’ve never yelled, not even raised your voice at anyone. You mostly kept to yourself, maybe had a conversation or two with some other Avengers. But you snapped. The stress from training and having to adjust in the new environment placed a weight on your shoulders that you couldn’t handle. Steve yelling at you was just the perfect push for you to burst.

“(Y/n)—,” Steve moved towards you but you shook your head.

“No. I’m done.” You walk out the training room heading straight towards your room.

When you enter the hall you bumped into Bucky. You quickly apologized and continued the walk to your room.

“Doll?” He looked back at you to see you’ve already turned the corner. He saw Steve leaving the training room along with Wanda who was talking to him. Bucky was sure you were upset when you bumped into him.

Bucky was the first one to approach you out of all the other Avengers. Which was odd since Bucky barely talked to anyone besides Steve and Sam. You and Bucky got along. The first few months after being rescued he volunteered to help show you around the tower, even though he didn’t understand most of the high tech appliances in the tower. He learned that you were linked to Hydra, well your dad was, but you went though the same things he had to gone through when Hydra was in control of him. He wanted to make sure you had someone to talk to, if you were having flashbacks or night terrors. He knew how it felt because he’s lived through it, but because of T’Challa and Shuri he didn’t have to anymore. That wasn’t the case for you.

Bucky heard you have your first night terror during the second week of your arrival. He was at your room in an instant. Then there you were, tears streaming down your face with your hair and shirt sticking to your skin. A look of fear on your face. That night you asked Bucky to stay with you. He sat on the floor beside your bed while you clung onto his flesh arm. From then on, you guys turned to each other for comfort when it was needed. You guys even had movie nights every Friday.

Bucky debated on who he should follow. You or Steve? Seeing as you were upset, he decided to check on you first.

He knocked on your door.

No response.

Again, he knocked.

Nothing. He turned the handle of the door but it didn’t budge. He knocked again, “Doll, open up.”

He heard some rustling behind the door. Seconds later you opened the door. He was greeted by your flushed face. Your under eyes were puffy and the trails of your tears were still visible on your face. You silently turned away and left the door open for him, moving to curl yourself into the comfort of your sheets.

Bucky gently closed the door behind him and sat on the side on your bed. When he realized you weren’t going to talk anytime soon, he got comfy and leaned against the headboard. He brought your figure towards him and rested your head on his chest.

This was how you were. When you were upset you allowed yourself to feel it before talking about the problem. When you were upset about something you preferred to be wrapped around warmth to help ground yourself and not get lost in your thoughts. The heat that radiated off Bucky, along with the coolness of his prosthetic arm and heart beat kept you from losing yourself.

Bucky patiently waited for you. His flesh hand would switch from stroking your cheek and running his fingers through your hair.

“Am I hopeless?” You finally spoke. Bucky’s brow scrunched together in confusion.

“No, why would you say that?” He questioned softly.

“Then why can’t I get the hang of my abilities? I’ve been training with Steve and Wanda for months and there has been no improvement!” You sniffled as tears formed in your eyes again.

“Now, hold on. Didn’t you say you were able to control the blast Wanda threw at you? That’s improvement!” He reasoned with her.

“Well it’s not improvement to Steve.” You mumbled against his shirt. Bucky froze, his fingers stoping their track in your hair.

“What did Steve do?” He asked her, his voice lowered. Not that he would hurt Steve, the man’s done so much for him, but he has been rough on you lately.

“Nothing, it’s not a big deal, Buck.” You assured him.

“If it made you this upset, it is a big deal.” He retorted. You sighed not wanting to rat Steve out on his own friend. You shook you head.

“Doll, come on.” He coaxed you. You sighed giving in.

“He just yelled at me to get a grip. He said we’ve been doing those training sessions since day one and that I haven’t been able to control one of Wanda’s blasts successfully.” You answered him as you nervously fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

“What’d you tell him?”

“That I’m done.”

“What do you mean you’re done?” Bucky sat up properly against the headboard.

“I don’t want to do this anymore. There’s no use, Bucky. If I can’t control my powers then what’s the point of me being here?” You rested your head above his heart.

“A second chance.” Bucky immediately answered. He placed a finger under your chin and gently guided you to look at him.

“Look at me.” He whispered lightly, his thumb grazed against your bottom lip as it moved to stroke your cheek.

“Now listen to me. You’re here for a reason. You were rescued for a reason. Why do you think Tony practically begged for you to stay at the compound?” He started, you shrugged in response.

“He saw potential in you. (Y/n), this is a second chance for you to better yourself and use your powers for good things. Isn’t that great? You’ve been given these abilities and now you’re getting the chance to help people with it.” He finished.

“But it was given to me with the intentions of doing the opposite. I’ve killed people with them, Bucky.”

“The Winter Soldier killed tons of people, doll. Now look at me.” He huffed with a crooked smile. You stared at him for a moment. He looked healthy, his eyes were bright, he’s grown a beard, and his previously long and luscious hair has been nearly cut. You’ve seen the Winter Soldier before, through pictures and news articles, the Bucky in front of you was far from the mind controlled assassin.

“How did you do it?” You wondered titling your head at him.

“I had a lot of help. It took some patience but I had people who were willing to help me get better.” He responded. You nodded and rested your head on his shoulder. Bucky continued to stroke your cheek with his flesh hand and rubbed circles on your back with his prosthetic hand.

“You’ll get there. It’ll take time, but eventually you’ll get there, and I’ll be right beside you.” He comforted you. You nodded into his neck and wrapped your limbs around his body, Bucky followed in suit.

In his arms you felt safe. Like nothing could ever hurt you when you were in his grip. It was as if all your worries were pushed right off your shoulders when you were in contact with him. You gave each other a sense of peace while living such a hectic lifestyle. You were glad you had someone like Bucky, because without him you would’ve lost your mind trying to deal with your new living situation.

Eventually, you did get there. You conquered your abilities and were finally opening up to your teammates. You felt normal, like you finally belonged there. Bucky remained true to his promise, he went through it all and stayed beside you till the end.

#ally’s requests #marvel #mcu #avengers #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #sebastan stan #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan headcanons #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan drabble #bucky barnes headcanon

[mischiefmanaged71]

Turning Tables (2/8) - Joaquin Torres x Reader

Summary: Nothing riles up Y/N more than stubbornness, especially when those she cares about get hurt. Y/N checks up on Joaquin when he arrives back from a mission gone bad.

Author’s Note: Continuation of my series! Hopefully I’ll be able to complete this series. I’ve planned to write at least five chapters. Like, reblog and comment if you enjoyed it! Should we have a counter by the end of the series how many times Y/N calls Joaquin ‘Flyboy’. IDK I love that she calls him that and it’s a cute nickname 

Warnings: FLUFF, slowburn

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x fem! reader

Word Count: 1.5K

You were relaxing at home when you got the text from Sam. Joaquin got injured on a mission in Switzerland, investigating the Flag Smashers. He had tried to arrest one of their members, or who he thought was the leader of the heist, when he was knocked down and unconscious by the incredibly strong individual.

You thanked Sam for letting you know and grabbed your keys to rush to the Airbase. 

As soon as Joaquin’s plane arrived, you were there, walking up the airstrip to interrogate him.

“What happened to keeping me updated?”, you approached him with furrowed eyebrows.

“I was kinda preoccupied in the moment.”, gripping a bag over his shoulder.

You sighed, clicking your tongue and tilting your head.

“All you had to do was ask and I would have been there.”

He waved his hands, his bruised orbital causing him to squint slightly.

“It's just a broken orbital, Y/N. I’m fine, honestly.”

“You’re lucky all you got was a broken bone. I gave you my number so you could call me in for these types of missions.”, you shook your head. 

“Look, it was just supposed to be recon, it happened to turn sideways.”

You left out a huff as your hands travelled to your hips. Your lips pursed but you made eye contact with Joaquin’s slouched posture and tired eyes. A patch of blue and purple bloomed under his eye along with a scatter of scratches and cuts. 

You stepped closer, gripping his arm delicately,

“The last thing I-,we want is for you to get hurt when we could have stopped it. I’ve faced all sorts of threats in the past so nothing really fazes me anymore.”, you chuckled.

Joaquin let out a breathy laugh, nodding his head as you rubbed his arm.

“Also, Sam can be annoying sometimes so it’s refreshing to hear someone else’s voice.”, earning a slight chuckle from Joaquin as he gripped his injured side.

“What I’m saying is, you don’t have to do it alone.”

Joaquin relaxed his shoulders, feeling the work of the last couple days hit him.

“I know, it’s just - I’m still trying to get used to it, ya know? Having people there for me. It’s been quiet these five years.”

Here is where you had two differing experiences. Almost half the universe had been blipped out of existence. 

For those that remained behind, they had to move on without their friends and loved ones. 

For those that came back, they had to get on with what they lost - time and coming home to a place that was changed.

“I know that must’ve been really hard. I barely recognise half of the places I walk by. Everything is so different now…”, you trailed off.

Once you returned, your family was broken. Natasha and Tony had sacrificed themselves to bring everyone back, Steve had left them to return the stones in the past and Wanda…

Wanda left after Tony’s funeral. Vision was gone and so was Natasha - her grief was different from the rest. 

You had all drifted apart after the Blip, trying to find your way to who you are now. After Steve left the shield with Sam, you’d always wondered what would happen next. Bucky was trying to adjust to the times, still recovering from his trauma. The US Government had mandated therapy for him with a weekly therapist but he didn’t seem to like her much at all. Y/N knew the therapy was good for him, but the therapist’s methods were questionable in her mind. 

They were all changed by what happened, but they were trying to find normalcy. They came back into a world far different than before. They were different people from before it all happened.

“I didn’t call you because I thought it was nothing at the time. I’ve been tracking these guys online for months. They’re dangerous and I didn’t want to drag anyone else into it unless I was sure.”

Joaquin ducked his head down to play with your hand, 

“I wouldn’t be able to deal with myself if something happened to you.”

You paused for a moment at his revelation, gripping his hand tightly in response.

“That’s different-”, you shook your head

“How? How is it different?”

“I’ve got powers to protect myself, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I do.”, he shook his head.

You both paused, sighing in the silence before you decided to jump back in to break it...gently.

“I’ve had my fair share of broken bones but I gotta say, that looks painful.”, you pointed at his bruised cheek.

Joaquin rolled his eyes and chuckled, nudging your shoulder.

“Well some of us aren’t invulnerable. Also pretty sure the guy who knocked me out was enhanced.”

“No shit...and this is why we always?...listen to Y/N, yes!”

“Oh, c’mon! You’re gonna milk this for ages, aren’t you?”, Joaquin groaned.

“Yup.”

A smirk grew on your face at his grimace.

“Ok ok, how about we grab some food? My treat?”, he opened his arms in defeat.

You scoffed, slapping Joaquin’s bicep, 

“Are you kissing up to me, Flyboy?”

He swatted your hands, a grin playing across his face as he chuckled,

“No… but would it get me back in your good graces?”

You pondered on it for a few seconds, nodding furiously at the proposition to dinner.

“Hmmm, I’ll have to consider it. I’m craving Italian food. Pizza?”

Joaquin nodded his head along as you both walked towards the front entrance where you had parked your car.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

You walked side by side, slowing to meet his pace. He had a slight limp as he favoured his left, being cautious about his sore side.

“You better not say you like pineapple.”, Joaquin jabbed.

You huffed, eyes widening in shock.

“And what is wrong with pineapple on pizza?!”

“Aside from the fact it’s disgusting! Fruit does not belong on a pizza.”, he scrunched his nose in disgust, laughing at your aghast expression.

“Tomatoes are a fruit!”, you pointed out.

“That doesn’t count!”

You nodded your head as you unlocked the car, 

“I think it does.”

Grabbing his bag off his shoulder, you placed it in the backseat, opening the passenger side. Nodding your head to the side, you gently nudged Joaquin to sit, pushing the door closed behind him. Jogging over to the driver’s side, you got in  and plugged in your seatbelt before reversing the car.

“Well since you’re paying, why don’t you decide this time, Flyboy?”, you glanced to the side as he relaxed in his seat.

“Alright but don’t come at me with those glowing hands if you don’t like it.”, he grinned.

You shook your head,

“Yes, because pizza toppings are the peak of my tolerance.”

Your eyes track back to the road in focus, the radio peaking through. Joaquin’s head leaned against the window on his hand as the rumble of the car lulled him to sleep. You got lost in your thoughts as you continued along the road.

“You should take better care of yourself, Flyboy. I don’t wanna come down here again and see you hurt.”

“I’m-I know that we haven’t known each other for that long. Heck, I only met you six months ago.”, you spoke softly.

“It’s been a tough adjustment since I got back. I haven’t really felt like myself at all - but then here you are and everything just…”, your rambling filling the quiet.

“It's better… I-”

You glance over at Joaquin but his eyes are closed shut, his head leaning against the window. He’s sound asleep, looking far more relaxed and peaceful than when you first saw him. 

Your chest tightened as you scanned over the bruising scattered over his smooth, tan skin. 

“Let someone take care of you for once.”

***

Thanks again for reading, lovelies xx 

Hope you enjoyed it and tag me in TFATWS fics!

Comment if you’d like to be tagged. I’ll make a Masterlist...when I figure out how to create one (lol).

TAGS:

@asoftie4bucky @remmysbounty @cjsinkythoughts @bubblegum28universe  @farfromjustordinary  @hocusbowie @alainabooks143 @marvelnerd18 @samscaptain @alexlynn16 @dontstahpmemeow @plllover86 @petewentzfrommcr80  @literallyjustfanfiction @captainbarness @parkjammys @the-and-sign-anon @nialeesato 

#joaquintorres #joaquintorresxreader #joaquintorresxy/n #joaquin torres imagines #tfatwsxreader #tfatws #marvelxreader #MCU x reader #marvel #TFATWS Imagine #marvel x y/n #marvelfic

[teawaffles]

Louis and the Aquaria: Chapter 3, Part 1

It was now the afternoon three days after that, for a total of seven days since the fish had arrived at the mansion.

“Oh, how’re the fish?”

Moran strolled jauntily into the hall.

Although he had left the matter of their names unfinished, since that day, Moran had gotten thoroughly hooked onto watching the fish, often stopping by the hall whenever he had spare time. Of course, it was the same for Fred: he frequently came to visit, and with Louis’s permission, had fun helping to feed them and so on.

As soon as Moran stepped into the room, he peered into the guppies’ tank near the entrance, and broke into a cheerful grin.

“Yo, ‘Fred’. Energetic as always, I see.”

The guppies were kept as a school rather than individually, and at this point, it was no longer clear which one had been named ‘Fred’. As such, that had become the name of the entire group.

After saying hello to ‘Fred’, Moran moved on to the tank with the pufferfish.

“I’m glad you’re doing fine too. Having the entire tank to yourself — it must feel pretty great.”

Perhaps it was because he’d given his own name to that fish, for Moran spoke to it in a remarkably familiar way.

“Compared to the rest of them, it might seem like you’re rather lonely, being alone like that. But I don’t mind that way of life.…… because, I also lived like that once.”

He lowered his eyes, his thoughts flitting back to the past.

“After I was deemed killed in action, I sought revenge on the bastards who put me through that, and lived in the underworld of London. All by myself, that is.”

At this sudden talk about his past, the little pufferfish looked somewhat puzzled.

But Moran ignored that, and continued in an impassioned voice.

“Back then, I’d been prepared to live alone for a long, long time. But then I met William. It feels cliché to say this, but I’ve truly found friends that I can trust.”

He pressed his face up against the tank.

“What I’m trying to say is…… Even though you’re living alone right now, one day, you’ll surely meet people whom you can trust from your heart. So even though you’re alone, that’s no reason to feel down. If you live on with determination, you’ll definitely——”

Moran stopped. In the glass of the aquaria, the figures of two men were reflected back at him.

With a nasty sense of foreboding, he quietly turned around.

There, standing with poise, were Louis and Albert.

“……How long have you two been standing there?” he asked cautiously.

Looking uncomfortable, Louis cleared his throat before replying.

“Um…… Sorry, but — ever since you walked in front of that tank, Mr Moran……”

Beside him, Albert broke into a puzzled smile.

“How should I put this…… To be able to speak so candidly with a fish, Colonel: your communication skills are truly marvellous.”

“Really……?”

Hearing that, Moran held his head in his hands. He’d given a heartfelt speech to a fish — it was an utterly embarrassing sight, and his high spirits had come crashing down in an instant.

“That’s unfair, you know: not saying a word, so you could make a fool of me.”

“No, in this case, you really were digging your own grave……”

“I suppose you’re right…… It’s no wonder you pretty much spend all your time here, Louis. To be unbothered by such simple things: is this the magic of tropical fish?”

“No…… Well, yes — if you say so, Mr Moran, then I’m sure it is……”

In reality, to have made Moran commit a blunder that was so unlike him, it might not have been entirely wrong to call it “magic”. Taking his feelings into consideration, Louis conceded the point.

Then, Albert spoke up in a terribly gentle voice.

“Colonel. If you’re exhausted, I could put a word in with William to give you a break from your duties.”

“Please don’t actually take pity on me……”

Albert had not taken his usual teasing tone with him; instead, his kindness was genuine, and Moran responded in a thin voice.

“……Well, I can’t help it, now that you’ve seen that.”

In truth, Moran had suffered enough mental damage to make him want to sleep through an entire night. But somehow, he pulled himself together, and resumed watching the fish.

As he did so, the other two men whispered to one another with serious faces. Even as the tips of his ears turned red, Moran pretended not to notice.

Then, as he walked around the room, he realised something.

“On a closer look, isn’t there a big difference in the way they're being treated?”

Earlier, Louis had been concerned for Moran; but now he reacted in dismay.

“What’re you saying? I do my best to care for them equally.”

“Then, what’s this?”

Moran gestured to a tank with his chin.

It was the aquarium that housed the very last few fish to be given names the other day — in other words, the three angelfish named after the Moriarty brothers.

Louis tilted his head slightly.

“What about them?”

“No matter how you look at it, isn’t their tank somehow more luxurious than the rest?”

Moran narrowed his eyes. As he’d pointed out, the other tanks were furnished simply, containing only the bare essentials for their inhabitants’ upkeep. In contrast, the angelfishes’ tank had an elaborate layout: it contained a variety of aquatic plants, and the lighting had even been adjusted to maximise the attractiveness of the display.

“Oh, Louis told me about that bright red one before: isn’t it an Alternanthera reineckii?”

“Besides that, I’ve also planted some Echinodorus tenellus.”

“I told you to stop that, didn’t I?!” Moran snapped.

Albert and Louis’s jargon-filled discussion immediately ground to a halt.

“In any case, I don’t see those fancy plants being grown in the other tanks.”

“Aren’t you overthinking things? I obtained some new aquatic plants recently, so I just placed them in an appropriate tank.”

“I don’t know: maybe you got attached to them, since they’ve been named after the brothers you look up to so much. In fact, it has felt that way for a while now.”

Actually, it hadn’t just been this time: ever since the angelfishes were named after the three brothers, Moran had gotten the feeling that Louis had become strangely devoted to them.

However, Louis seemed irked by that suggestion.

“Even for you, Mr Moran, such remarks are inexcusable. To me, these fish are nothing more than a means for my brother’s plan to succeed — I hold no special affection for them.”

Louis’s tone was severe: a product of his devotion to the duty he’d been assigned. But Moran seemed unmoved.

“No matter how you try to spin it, the present state of things says it all. But I’m not trying to accuse you of playing favourites. So you treat them a little better, since they were given William and Albert’s names. That’s a normal feeling to have, innit?”

At that, Albert — who’d been worried about Moran up until earlier — agreed.

“The Colonel’s right. The plan is simply to bring the fish to Stapleton alive; as long as your methods of rearing them aren’t causing any harm, you’re free to act as you like, Louis.”

“…………”

Even though they were living things, Louis wanted to deny outright that he held any unnecessary affection for what were mere tools. But now that he’d been admonished by his older brother, he fell silent, and said nothing more.

“Anyway, we’re getting closer to the day William wants to make contact with the target. Keep up the good work, Louis; you’re doing great.”

Leaving those appreciative words behind, Albert left the room.

“Well, it’ll be fine as long as you don’t let all of them die. It’s alright to have fun in moderation, y’know.”

Then, after a brief look around the tanks, Moran left the hall as well. But as he stepped out the door, he glanced back at Louis.

Seeing the man’s earnest expression, all of a sudden, a slight unease fluttered in his chest.

T/N: Moran is actually quite a sentimental guy… And Albert -not- teasing him for once kinda warms my heart… :3

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #a study in scarlet

[high-supernatural]

Reasons Kai Parker Wasn’t Technically Evil

#1 - 1,000: Nobody ever gave him a chance, he became a product of his environment. Let me explain, 

His family rejected him from the moment they found out he was a siphoner. It’s basic developmental psychology that toxic households lead to toxic traits as an adult whether they’re super evident or not. Kai said in (idk which episode, the one where he calls Caroline ‘Clarice’), that growing up was hard since he was basically disowned for what he was born as, he wasn’t allowed to touch anybody, he watched his siblings being applauded while he wasn’t allowed to go near anyone, and it was difficult because he felt like an addict fiening for a hit of magic all the time, he wanted to change but nobody would help him or give him a chance. 

Putting developmental psychology to that -- he was disowned for who he was (he was raised and taught to hate himself for something he couldn’t change), he couldn’t touch anyone (kids need physical touch and interaction to develop in a healthy way lol), he was never praised or allowed to participate in much and had to watch everyone else be involved (that’s just evidently shitty), & he struggled and was refused help, so the idea was put in his mind that he couldn’t be saved or get help anywhere. AND THEN, since he was ignored his whole life basically, he got their attention in an extreme way and then spent 18 years in 100% isolation. 

SO THEN AS AN ADULT, he has poor boundaries, doesn’t know how to interact with others well, forces his way into other people’s lives because he doesn’t want to be left out again, feels like he’ll be refused help so he either forces people to help or he deals by accepting that nobody will help and decides to revel in all that he is. He knows/thinks that extravagant displays of violence gets peoples attention, so that’s how he get’s attention on top of becoming more invincible so they can’t put him in isolation for it. 

Imagine this: your family completely disowns you for being born a certain way, you have to watch them be a happy family while you’re forced to sit on the sidelines all your life, you struggle with the way you were born and it makes you feel terrible, when you reach out for help you’re rejected, so you lash out and are forced to spend 18 years in a world identical to yours but there’s nobody in it -- 18 years in silence, loneliness, desolation, basically you’re the last person on Earth but you can’t escape and you can’t die. Because of this you have unhealthy communication methods, tons of trauma, all that stuff. So when you’re rescued and display your unhealthy behavior, your rescuers also disown you and treat you terribly. 

Idk about anyone else but I’d lose my marbles too. 

He literally asked Bonnie to be a positive influence on him & to help him adjust before they left the prison world. He said, and I quote, “the thing I’m most scared of is trying to figure out how to live in the world again, I was sort of hoping you’d be a positive influence on me. You’re a good person, Bonnie, you’re brave, loyal, patient... I wanna be more like you.” And Bonnie didn’t really care. I mean, in her defense I wouldn’t trust someone who killed me a few times either, but from Kai’s perspective I’d be a lil hurt. 

He genuinely apologized to people he’s hurt. 

A truly evil person doesn’t have a conscious, Kai does, specifically in these lines -- “I know you think I’m a monster, I mean I did murder or heavily maim most of my immediate family... but after a long period of self reflection, I came to the conclusion that I could’ve handled my anger better,” and, “how do you feel?” psychopaths don’t care how people feel and wouldn’t admit they did any wrong unless they were trying to get their way with something... which I guess could have been the case. BUT, psychopaths also don’t ask others for help or advice, and Kai does a few times. 

In the deleted 6x15 scene he tries to reasonably talk to Jo and Jo throws him against the wall. Kai says, “as much as my suffering might bring you pleasure, or whatever, this is not the way to handle this situation,” LIKE, he was TRYING to have an actual conversation. Also, this statement basically just says all of what he feels; “my family just enjoys to watch me suffer.” Then he says, “I’m the defective twin that nobody wanted,” “I spent 18 years in isolation as the family reject, and every inch of me wants to kill you for that, but I can’t,” “I’d like to live because I didn’t get to do a whole lot of that before everybody decided that I wasn’t worth it,” UGHHHH

ALSO in that scene, Kai says he’s trying to keep the coven alive. Like, ok, hypothetically if my whole life panned out like Kai’s did, I wouldn’t really want to be alive, no matter how much power I could potentially achieve in the future. Assuming Kai was feeling the same, he still wanted to keep his family alive. 

He tried opening up to multiple people including Jo, Elena/Damon, Bonnie..... and they all ignored him or kept telling him he’s evil. THAT’S SO ANNOYING. He even acknowledged that he didn’t expect them to believe him, proving that he knows he’s done wrong, psychopaths don’t know they’ve done wrong.

Boi needed friends, support, and therapy, but was locked in another prison world again....

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #malachai parker #tvd au #tvd #tvd fanfiction #kai parker wasnt evil

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

idk if requests are open, or if this even counts as a request or more of a prompt for u to ramble, but how do you think mozart and theodorus would react to an mc who used to be friendly towards them pulling away, and finding out somehow that it's because they were too hostile and mc gave up (in the context of them secretly liking mc and being tsundere jerks). tysm in advance!!

Requests are open! I talk about just about anything ikevamp related on this blog, so nws in regards to that~

I guess I took this as a prompt to ramble so hopefully you enjoy this meme energy 💛💛💛💛

And well, I'm a little conflicted about this one--largely because I see two possible (most likely) outcomes. I think it depends on their feelings for the MC in question, as I get the vibe that they are willing to make the effort if they deem it worthwhile in the long run (perhaps a bit callous, but hey, what can I say). If they feel they can't see eye to eye with the MC long term, then I doubt they would pursue the matter much further.

If there is enough grounding for them to want to salvage the relationship, I think they would both make some effort to make amends tbh. They may have trouble saying it directly, but I guess I see them as men of action--they'll adjust their behavior, and that speaks volumes. Maybe they hesitate before something harsher slips, changing the course of what they were going to say. Maybe they smooth over a mistake she makes before anyone can notice, saving her that social discomfort. Maybe they don't nitpick what she does anymore, just note adjustments neutrally (the tonal difference of "you clod, you're going to ruin it if you hold it that way" versus "try holding it like this, it's easier to carry and poses less risk of damage if you drop it"). I guess my impression is that they tend to be subtle when it comes to their emotional landscape; if you don't pay close attention, you could miss it.

But. BUT. If you point out any difference in their behavior. They will look away and scowl/blush which is frankly, beyond hilarious (but don't do it too much or they'll get mad, you gotta go for the spicy moments to expose them italian hand thing). I imagine that, whether they admit it or not, they do notice if you see past the surface and appreciate that you care they're trying. It helps them move from very acerbic to a more lowkey kind of pragmatism that's less biting. Tbh I'm just a shithead and would probably tease them to near death because I'm very familiar with that sort of behavior, but I also understand not everyone is comfortable with that ;;;

I think it’s less that they refuse to make amends for troublesome behavior, and more that they have a lot of paralyzing shame associated with honesty (and they don’t much like being vulnerable ;;;;). For Theodorus, I think he’s deeply traumatized by how hard his brother tries to be a good and fair person, only to remain ridiculed and ignored by the people around him at large. There’s a sense of a male culture dominated by the concept that gentleness is only an extension of weakness, and as such he feels the need to overcompensate to defend Vincent. The rough exterior serves both as an insistence that he is a grown man (parental infantilization) but also to demand people’s respect, ripping them to verbal shreds when he sees fit for survival.

Mozart’s is more obviously a defense mechanism; he rejects people and sees the worst in them before they can do that to him. I don’t think he’s as malicious by nature as he seems. I think it’s more that he’s accustomed to and self-imposes impossible standards of self-control. The emotional repression, terrible (also unpredictable) experiences at the hands of his father as a boy genius, and relentless inability to see his own value separated from his work ethic results in a man who is inevitably dissociated from his reality. He has no concept of worth beyond functionality, and no concept of worth beyond giving to a self-emptying extent. So much of his life is a kind of hyperanxious denial and paranoid shame, and it’s a pity considering his immense potential for warmth and love.

I suppose I get the inclination that they both really just need to be slapped upside the head a little ahlskfjdhsgsfdkhj. I'm not typically one that likes that method of getting through to people, but it's an unfortunate result of some forms of abuse. Sometimes people need very direct and very intense rearranging of their face holes to see the limited nature of their perspectives. Though I will say context matters: some people need very gentle, some people need more persistent measures.

(Please note: sometimes people do not want to change, and if they don’t want to, they won’t--that’s just a waste of time imo. No amount of arguing or altruism will get through in that scenario ;;;;;; but since this is an otome it’s easier to give the benefit of the doubt. Honestly I find myself torn a lot because I don't? Like giving up on people who struggle with things like that. But at the same time, I don't necessarily think it's worthwhile to beg for someone to be kinder/more aware when they have zero desire to.)

I can't really speak to Theodorus as much but I think somebody who is with him would have to be somebody who is less put off by his jagged edges ;;;;;;;; I don't think it's wrong to be sensitive to it, but the reality is that he has a hard time toning it down sometimes because of his habits. It's a part of being with him, though I think he softens considerably over time in a relationship. I see it is as a kind of balancing act. His s/o would have to be firm about the times he's well and truly unfair, goes too far with what he says/does. And his s/o would likely need to let go or just tease him about the more harmless nonsense, taking it in stride. It's about knowing when to throw a punch and when to breeze by (float like a butterfly, sting like a bee).

Mozart I'm ngl is just Pride and Prejudice material, Mr.Darcy ass. He literally just needs somebody who will read him for utter filth in the classiest way possible, until he has no choice but to strut on his walk of shame saying "you dropped this, queen 👑". I find it a little funny because as long as you roast him in a true way, half the time he isn’t even mad, just sheepish. I find him to be a unique case between the two of them because he's more guarded than reactive. As soon as he knows his s/o is willing to hear him out and talk to him if they have some kind of misunderstanding, he doesn't really go for the throat anymore. Just gets kind of 👉👈, needs some time to figure out how to broach the topic (or Jeanne slides in to mediate a little bit). His development is more of a slow upward track to more normal and very affectionate interaction.

Of the two, I think Mozart might be the best bet for the type of person you mentioned. He has a lot of capacity for responding with penitence when it's due, and acknowledging when he messes up. Theo needs a lot of control, and I think it's fair if some people can't handle the overbearing nature of it at points.

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp theo #ikevamp theodorus #you know i think about this a lot only because #sometimes i don't really realize how intimidating they are to people??? i just see them as clowns HAHAHAHA #i feel for yall i mean its not really something everyone is comfortable with so **pats** #ideally they'll be understanding #worst case they'll just avoid and drown themselves in their work #can we get an F in the chat #i hope this was helpful/entertaining! <3333 #always welcome here lovely~ #and ill be getting to those theo requests today so theyll be up soon~ #i started binging a kdrama and there went my attention span for the week LMFAO #not incorrect quotes #rambles

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Irresistibly Yours

Chapter 4 - My Apologies

Summary - Y/N Y/L/N moves to NYC in hopes for a fresh start after a nasty breakup. There she meets her neighbor, the cynical lawyer, Dean Winchester. A love-hate relationship starts evolving between them ever since they met in the elevator one morning but a desperate situation and a string of lies forces the two friendly rivals to go on a date or rather a fake date. Will sparks fly between them when Dean gets to know Y/N real and up close? Will Y/N finally find her Prince Charming in the grumpy, workaholic, divorce lawyer?

Pairing - Lawyer!Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warning - None

WC - 2551

Square Filled - Fluff ( @girl-next-door-writes's Make Me Feel Bingo); Neighbours AU ( @anyfandomfluffbingo )

A/N - A new chapter! Hope you enjoy reading this!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Beta'd by @miss-nerd95 <33

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Click. Click. Click.

Adjusting her glasses on the nose, Y/N toyed around with the pen in hand, blankly staring at the kitchen wall. The empty sheet of paper sat there on the table, glaring at her. It was a bit old-school, considering her laptop was lying only a small distance away but this was how she preferred to work on her novel. It had nothing to do with her laziness.

The fear of another rejection was weighing heavily on her and she was really close to giving up on her dream of being an actually published writer. However, after her little pep talk to herself last night, she had this new indomitable spirit ignited inside her. Though that spirit was fading away with every passing minute now.

Y/N dropped the pen on the table with a huff, its metallic body hitting the wooden surface of the table as she got up to make herself a cup of coffee. Now, she might not want to admit it, but her novel wasn't the only thing that was troubling her.

A stranger’s callous comments should never hurt so much but when Dean called her stupid or rather a brainless idiot, for some reason, Y/N took it to the heart. She had then come to the conclusion that he was an ass and it was futile to even try and start a healthy relationship, but the bouquet of flowers sitting on the counter in front of her changed every perception of him yet again.

Ms. L/N, I didn't have any intentions of humiliating you. I'm really sorry. I hope you accept this small token of apology.

Walking up to the counter, Y/N picked up the small, white card and read the handwritten apology for the hundredth time that day. She didn't know if she should be impressed at his tacky methods of apologies or be annoyed at him for wrecking her mental sanity. Shaking off her thoughts, she was just about to dive back right into her writing when the coffee machine beeped.

“This is not gonna work.” She sighed, pouring one cup of the warm liquid and bringing it close to her lips. After finishing her drink, she decided to go out on a walk to clear her head but just as she stepped out of her house, she heard soft pitter patters of feet out in the hallway before a small figure of a hazel-eyed girl came into her sight.

Y/N tilted her head in confusion as the little girl ran in the halls. She looked around for her parents, but didn't see anyone else.

“Hey, pretty girl. What are you doing out here all alone?” She called out to the girl, making her stop in her tracks and look at Y/N.

“Daddy says not to talk to strangers.” She said while she cautiously approached the woman anyway.

“Where's your Dad?" She smiled softly, " I'm Y/N. See now you know me.”

“Daddy's-”

“I told you to stay inside, babygirl.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat when she heard the all too familiar voice of her ridiculously handsome neighbor before the tall figure of the man himself appeared in front of her. His eyes were focused on the little girl as he walked up to her. Dean crouched down to her height, hands gently placed on her shoulders. “Never go anywhere alone again. Alright?”

Does he have a daughter?

But she had never seen the girl before. Y/N was in awe as she saw the grumpy facade fade away when he talked with her. She realised that there were so many things about Dean that she truly didn't know. Maybe she had, after all, misjudged him on some petty conflicts.

“At least your kid was within the building.” Y/N said.

“Ms. L/N.” Dean regarded and turned to look at her. He shuffled on his feet which made Y/N raise a curious brow.

“Hello, Mr. Winchester.” A look of guilt with an underlying hurt flashed in his eyes when she didn't acknowledge him by his first name. He was very sure his effort at a decent apology had been appalling and it made him wince, thinking of the awfully cringy card he had curated by his own hand to convey his regrets.

“She is pwetty.” The girl tapped his knee, attracting his attention while looking at Y/N.

“Y-yeah.” Heat crept up Y/N’s neck when she heard Dean agree with the kid. A moment of awkward silence passed as Dean looked back up at the woman, this time his gaze not faltering making the woman’s cheeks warm up even more. “She is pretty, baby.”

“You are prettier. Look at you! You look absolutely stunning in that dress and hair!” Y/N jumped in deciding to not make the situation more awkward. She hoped that Dean was maintaining his usual poker face, but instead, the corner of his lips tugged up in a little smile as the girl diverted her attention to Y/N.

“Uncle De did my hair.” She said proudly and Y/N stared at Dean. Uncle De? Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought of him to be such a gentle soul. She now remembered that the last time she saw Dean, he had told her about meeting up with his brother.

“He did an excellent job, I see.” The woman said as Dean got up and stood up straight. “What's your name, pretty girl?” She looked up at Dean, as he nodded his head.

“Ava.” She muttered.

“So Ava, remember next time to not go anywhere without Uncle De’s permission. Promise?” Y/N said and walked up closer to the two humans as Ava nodded her head agreeing to her proposition, all the while Dean’s eyes trailed along the woman's every movement. He was the best in his profession and he excelled at reading his client's body languages to figure out conflict, but Y/N was like a puzzle to him right now so he decided to take matters in his own hands.

“I hope you liked the flowers.” There it was, subtle, but at least he owned up to his apology. Y/N observed him for a moment, watching as he was nervously wringing his hands together. He seemed nervous around her. This wasn't the Dean Winchester she had come to know in the last few, quite unfortunate encounters.

“I did.” Y/N wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily. He tightly held Ava’s hand to not let her out of his sight.

“De-” she pouted, “Uncle De!” The said man looked down at his niece.

“Stay put for a moment, babygirl. Uncle De needs to talk to this lovely young lady. Then we can go and get ice cream, like I had promised.” He said, before looking up at Y/N. “Listen, I'm sorry for what happened that day. I did not-” Sighing, Dean said before he was unceremoniously cut off by his phone vibrating in his pocket.

His face scrunched up as he stared at his phone screen. Sucking in a deep breath, he let the phone ring until the caller reached the voicemail. He chewed on his plump, pink lip when his phone lit up with a voice message. Y/N had an instinct he was avoiding someone, maybe an ex. Dean must have had some girlfriends.

“I'm sorry, I was saying-” the phone rang again and Dean was so close to throwing the little device against the wall.

“I think you should take that, which seems important. And I would leave you with your work things. I was going out for a walk anyway. Have a good day, Winchester.” Y/N said and walked right past the man.

“Hold up!” Y/N stopped walking before turning around to face the lawyer. “I never had the intention of hurting you.”

“Then you know the story wrong.” She said, shrugging

“Well if we study closely, the scarecrow was actually very intelligent but he never realised it.” Dean shrugged.

“So you're saying that I act stupid.” This time Y/N wasn't offended but she liked watching him squirm.

“N-no I didn't mean that-” He struggled to come up with yet another apology. “Can we drop the subject of the scarecrow? Let's just pretend the story doesn't exist in this context.” Y/N chuckled at the poor man, making him shake his head lightly.

“It's okay, Dean. Go, get the kid some ice cream.” She smiled.

“Join me for a drink sometime.” Dean blurted out without thinking. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he stared at Y/N, trying to gauge her reaction.

“I never pegged you for a guy to ask me for a drink.” She raised a brow at him.

“The card and flowers were pretty lame, I agree…but I do owe you a drink, or maybe a coffee, whatever you prefer.” He said. He knew his method of apologising was crappy but at that moment it was the best he could come up with. Dean never was a man of many words and he sucked at expressing his feelings so it was near impossible for him to think of anything better than this, but now he realised it would have been much better if he would have just knocked on her door.

“Sure.” Y/N nodded.

“How does tomorrow sound? Ava will be back with my brother by then. As you can see I kind of have my hands full right now.” He smiled. Y/N pondered over the sudden change in her hot neighbour’s behaviour. If this was the way Dean chose to open up to her, then so be it.

“Tomorrow sounds good,” she smiled back.

“G-great then!” Heat crept up his neck as he looked at Ava, a bit flustered. He didn't know what her deal was but she always rendered him speechless or stumbled on his own words, trying to form a good comeback. Y/N had an effect on him that neither Jo nor Lisa had ever had on him. Her perky attitude made him want to spend any time he got with her. They were poles apart but Dean found a sense of familiarity in her.

“I won't hold back you two any longer.” Crouching in front of the girl and ruffling her brown hair, Y/N said, “Don't settle with anything less than a triple scoop.”

“Don't give her any ideas,” Dean teasingly warned, “I have no idea how to deal with a kid on a sugar rush.”

“Then don't shy away from asking for a little help. I had to babysit my cousin's kids many times. I know a thing or two about babysitting,” Y/N said.

“I'll definitely take you up on that if things get out of hand.” He said, “See you tomorrow night. Have a good day, Ms. L/N.” He grabbed Ava’s hands tightly, pulling her close as he started to walk towards the elevator. Y/N shook her head, an amused laugh leaving her lips. Some things never change.

“I think the cupcakes worked their magic!” Dean teased, sharing a laugh with Y/N over a glass of Manhattan. This was the first time she had ever seen him laugh. Apparently, he was a happy drunk.

“Some roots of jasmine, rose thorns, a pinch of pearl dust and voila! You have the friendship potion,” She barely made it through with a straight face before bursting out in fits of laughter.

“I had a feeling that there was some kind of sorcery involved.” He said, signalling for another glass for both of them.

“This one’s on me,” Y/N said, making Dean scrunch up his face in an adorable pout.

“No it's not. I'm payin’, I was the one who asked you out.” His eyes immediately widened when he realised what slipped out through his mouth. “Not like an ‘asking out’ asking out. This is-” Dean waved at the space between them “-just a gesture of goodwill.”

“You're adorable.” Y/N giggled.

“What?”

“I know this isn't a date. Just two friends hanging out on a Sunday night.” She shook her head, chuckling as the man picked up his refilled glass and took a sip.

Even if Y/N said it was platonic, the ungodly amount of time she had spent in front of her closet to pick out a perfect outfit would definitely make her rethink her answer. She had skimmed through her closet, trying to find the dress that said ‘just friends’ but to her all the dresses she owned screamed ‘I want you to fuck me’.

Nevertheless, she had settled on a simple pair of blue jeans and a crop top. But she had felt seriously underdressed when she knocked on Dean's door and it had opened to reveal the man in a jeans t-shirt and black slacks, staring at her with a smile on his face.

“Well duh! My first impression of you kinda sucked.” Y/N said.

“I did warm up to ya, didn't I?” Dean chuckled. “Another round?”

“Nuh-uh. Sparkling water for me. I don't want to show up at work tomorrow puking my guts out. And that while nursing a painful hangover? No thanks” She laughed.

“You're no fun!” He chuckled with her.

“I am no fun? What about you, Mr. Turn-down-the-volume?” She said as the bartender pushed a glass of water towards her and poured out another to the man.

“You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?” He shook his head.

“Never.”

A moment of silence passed as Y/N looked across the nightclub buzzing with people just like any other Sunday night. She never thought Dean would be the person to even know about nightclubs around the city but guess she didn't know him that well.

“You wanna head back home? I can walk with you to your place, be all gentlemanly,” he smirked. She liked this drunk version of Dean. He was happier, far more cheesy and funnier than his workaholic version.

“Of course. It's not like we live in the same apartment,” she teased. “Hey, you wanna hit the dance floor before we go back?”

His eyes widened at her sudden question. “No, I don't dance.” He shook his head furiously, clearly stating that dancing was definitely not on his agenda.

“Oh come on, don't be shy.” She said.

“Nope.”

“Fine! You are no fun!” She rolled her eyes, “Let's get outta here then.”

The walk back to their apartment was filled with drunken giggles and cheesy banter. “I had a fun time tonight. Apologies accepted.” Y/N said, unlocking the door to her home.

“Glad to know that. I couldn't have lived knowing you hate me,” Dean teased, “I had a good time as well. I really needed a break from work.”

“So you do accept that you work too much?”

“Agree to disagree.” He shrugged, leaning against the doorway, “Night, Y/N.”

She walked up to the man and pecked his cheek, making his eyes go wide at the sudden affection. He swallowed hard as she stared up at him with hooded eyes. Patting his arms lightly, she said, “Night, Dean, see you in the morning.”

“Only if you're running late.”

Chapter 5

Feedback is highly appreciated!

Let me know if you want to be tagged in this series!

#make me feel bingo #anyfandomfluffbingo #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #au dean x reader #au dean winchester x reader #au dean x you #au dean winchester x you #au dean winchester x y/n #au dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n #irresistibly yours

[himaboroshi736]

IronDad fic recs

Here. I’m a french reader, but I’ve read A LOT (like...a lot) of IronDad, so, eventually, here my fic rec. (I tried to class it by categories, but well...) (it’s gonna be very long, guys)

 Peter Parker has anxiety 

Don’t let me get me, by hopeless_hope 

He picks up his phone and sends a quick text. "hey, happy! i’m not feeling too hot today, so i think i’m gonna have to cancel. tell mr. stark i’m sorry!"

He stares at his phone, waiting for a response. It never comes, and Peter sighs sadly. There was a part of him, a small part, that really hoped he was wrong. His insides burn, and he curls up tighter into a ball and turns off his phone.

(No one’s going to try to contact him anyway.)

or

Anxiety has a way of convincing Peter that everyone hates him. Tony has a way of proving him wrong.

Midnight Oil, by @jolinarjackson

After everything that has happened to Peter over the last year - or five, really - he shouldn’t be worried about something as mundane as the ACT. When he fails it, though it sends him into a spiral of self-doubt, which only gets worse when Peter realizes that he doesn’t seem to be able to fix whatever is broken.

Tony Stark has anxiety 

do you even remember what the world looks like ?, by @iron--spider

Tony’s heart has been working on overdrive since this whole thing started. Friday has a countdown clock plastered on the heads up display, but it feels like hieroglyphics to him at this point, like some ancient language he could never master.

Because when Peter Parker is missing, things start losing their meaning real quick.

“Should be around here,” Rhodey says on the com. May is still on the other line, listening in, because once a certain amount of time goes by without word from Peter, things move into Extremely Worried Aunt territory. They’re already in Tony Is Panicking territory, and when both of those territories overlap it’s never a good time for anybody.

Time? What the hell is time? His mind is blanking numbers out entirely. Minutes are seconds are hours are years.

not like megatron, by @iron--spider

“Hi! This is Peter Parker, I can’t get to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll call you back later! Hopefully not too much later, but don’t get your hopes up!”

Tony knows that message by heart. He’s heard it hundreds of times, in a greyer world, and it sends shivers down his spine as he climbs into the car.

He doesn’t think about that place. That half-world. No way, that’s done, that’s over, that’s history.

“Hey, kid, don’t you know it’s bad etiquette to go and disappear on your birthday? Not allowed, really, really bad vibes from the universe. What’s going on with your suit? I wasn’t watching. Nope. Just got an alert. What’s going on? Uh, call me back.” He clears his throat and hangs up like a moron, driving out into the street.

Hypothermia trope (i really like it so if you have any suggestions...)

i knock the ice from my bones, by hopeless_hope

Peter tries to move his legs through the water, dread filling him when they don’t move, and he just hangs there, doing anything and everything he can not to focus on the feeling of ice clinging to his bones. He feels sluggish, the world blurring around him, and he rests his head on the ice, not even registering the cold anymore.

He’s just so damn tired.

“PETER!” he hears someone yell, but it’s all muffled, and he lazily drags his eyes up to see a figure descending towards him.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he thinks, This is not how my vacation was supposed to go.

or

While on what's supposed to be a relaxing vacation with the Starks, things for Peter quickly go south, and he finds himself on thin ice. Literally.

Ice Ice Baby, by @wolfypuppypiles

If Tony, Bucky or pretty much anybody that knew Peter had seen him that morning they would have smacked him upside the head. Helping people was great, everyone should give it a go, but when helping people puts you in danger it’s not so smart anymore.

AKA Peter can't get from Avenger tower to the subway without giving his winter clothes to homeless people and ends up with a severe case of hypothermia

Candle in the Window, by @madasthesea

Finals are over and Peter just wants to go home. The weather has other ideas.

Burn This Out, by @ephemeralstark

It's summer and Peter is free to be Spider-Man all day which is great, but it's summer and Peter is out as Spider-Man on the hottest day of the year which is not great.

Or, Peter gets heat stroke because he can't thermoregulate and things could not go worse for him.

(yeah, it’s not an hypothermia, but it’s linked to the fact that Peter can’t actually thermoregulate)

Post-Endgame (really like this trope too lmao)

the first birthday after, by iron_spider 

(Endgame spoilers. But The Thing doesn't happen.)

The rain falls harder and Tony turns, his neck creaking and cracking, and he sees Peter asleep over by the window. He’s holding a small, flat box, and he’s slowly slipping to the right side of the easy chair he’s in.

Tony thinks about letting him sleep, but he finds himself speaking anyway. “Pete,” he says, his voice rough and raspy.

Peter immediately startles awake. “Happy Birthday,” he says, almost like he’d fallen asleep practicing it, planning to say it as soon as he woke up. He blinks at Tony, shivering a little bit, and then he smiles. “Happy Birthday. Happy Birthday.”

Tony snorts, smiling back. “Thanks, bud,” he says.

Second Best, by Rowan_M

Tony had adjusted to parenthood quickly when Morgan came along, and was always conscious of making sure Peter isn't left out ... Almost always. When Peter gets hurt while taking care of Morgan, Tony obsess over his daughter and takes his anger out on Peter, without even checking to see if he was okay. Steve finds Peter later that night in serious pain and in need of immediate medical attention.

Or, Peter gets hurt while taking care of Morgan and Tony basically ignores him.

when you’re feeling empty keep me in your memory, by JkWriter

after everything with thanos he forgets it's his birthday. he just assumed everyone else did too.

All For You, by @ironxprince

Three weeks after the snap that saved the world, Peter learns he was the reason behind it. He learns that Tony risked death, and now has to live with the ramifications, both physical and mental, all because of him.

This doesn't sit right with him.

you save everybody, but who saves you ?, by @iron--spider

Tony doesn’t sleep, because he can’t, because too many things are plaguing him, most of all where Peter is and what he’s doing. Tony has a good view of the hallway through the windows to his room, and he stares and stares until his eyes cross, until he hallucinates, until he knows he’s going insane.

He sees Peter sneaking into the med bay at about four in the morning.

The kid’s mask is off and he’s got two short, harsh slashes across his cheek, and he’s bleeding from a slice across his neck. His suit is ripped in a few places and he’s holding onto his middle, and Tony can see his hands are shaking.

It’s like something splinters in Tony’s already broken brain, like his world narrows and there are hazy edges, both weakness and strength entwining in his veins when he sees Peter struggle up onto one of the beds in the main atrium, starting to tend his wounds without calling anybody to help.

BAMF Peter Parker 

Pizza, a Movie, and... an Attempted Kidnapping ?, by Pogokitten

“Tony. We’ll be fine,” Peter tells the man for what must be the tenth time in the last half hour.

Peter’s sitting on the couch of his and May’s apartment and building Legos with Morgan as they both watch their father’s methodical, yet anxious, pacing. He’s dressed to impress, as is Pepper who is watching the scene slightly exasperated.

“Are you sure? We can ditch the gala, kid. Just say the word,” Tony offers, halting in front of his kids.

Or: Tony and Pepper leave Peter in charge of Morgan while they go to their first gala since the third snap. Peter is expecting a calm night in with his adopted sister, but some thugs throw a wrench in his plans.

he’s good like that, by @iron--spider

“Get the hell outta here, boy,” the man says. “Or you’re gonna watch your boss die in front of you.” Then he grabs Tony by the shoulders hard, and shoves him down to his knees. The gun is louder now, like it’s filled with words that are eager to be shouted, and Tony winces when he feels the barrel press against the back of his neck. His knees weren’t ready to hit the ground that hard, and he tries to keep the pain from reaching his face.

He must fail, because Peter looks pissed.

“You’re not gonna shoot him, mister,” Peter says, somehow still trying to maintain a respectful tone, despite the clear anger written all over him.

stark robotics and technology conference, by @iron--spider

Peter leans against the wall while Tony chooses their floor, and the doors close. “Do you, uh, want me to do some interning stuff? Like go and get you coffee? Make sure the, uh—programs are all ready? Make sure the paintings are straight in the ballroom? Make sure the chairs are—”

Tony snorts. “Kid, I just thought you’d enjoy this. May told me about when it came through Queens but you two couldn’t make it because she was working and didn’t want you to go alone, and I thought, after all the shit you’ve been through lately, that you deserved something fun. No interning for you. That’s just an excuse.”

Peter remembers that. It was six months after Ben died, and he wasn’t gonna bother May too much about the conference. He didn’t know how much tickets cost anyways, or if kids his age could even go.

He really hung onto the idea of Iron Man after Ben died. Peter held him closer than ever.

Peter and Tony fighting 

dinner and a jailbreak, by killerqueenwrites

“I’m not your kid!” Peter shouts.

“Don’t walk away from me, I’m not done–“

“You’re not my dad!”

Peter fitting in after the Blip isn't as easy as Tony hoped it would be. He wants his kid back, but they can't seem to stop fighting.

and then Peter goes missing.

my old man, by parkrstark 

"I just want to help you. I want to help you understand what's wrong here and how to stop it. I used to be the same way until my father showed me how to be a man." He glanced back at Peter to sneer. "He's old enough to know better by now, but it's not your fault you didn't know how to teach him." "Teach him what?" Tony asked even though he didn't want to know the answer.

"Discipline, of course," Junior said with a wink.

--

Tony takes Peter on a weekend trip to try and change his mind about college and things go wrong. Then, they go even more wrong.

Between how it is and how it should be, by @frostysunflowers

''Doesn’t Captain Rogers ever…wonder,'' Peter winced as he fumbled for the right word, ''where you are?''

Bucky smirked. ''Steve’s a regular mother hen. Used to be me that worried about him.'' He gave Peter a pointed look. ''Better question is, isn’t Stark wondering where you are?''

Soulmates trope 

presumed dead, by killerqueenwrites 

Tony gets his first soulmark when he’s fifteen, his second when he's thirty. He's forty-six when his third appears, and forty-eight when it fades to grey.

did you see the flares in the sky ?, by justt-ppeachy

‘hi’  

One simple word was displayed proudly on the inside of his right wrist. Tony wasn’t sure when this word showed up or how long it had been there.

A line formed underneath the word and Tony could almost feel the pressure on his arm from the marker his soulmate was using to push one phrase from their skin into his.

‘i loev yu’

The letters were written slowly and messily as they showed up upon his wrist while he watched in disbelief. Not sure if he was hallucinating or just going insane, Tony rubbed at the writing, wondering if they would disappear once he looked again.

The words were barely recognizable, but they were still the best thing Tony had ever seen.

IronDad Fluff (yeah)

peter wearing tony’s hoodie, by killerqueenwrites 

Tony’s used to his clothes going missing. His MIT hoodie doesn’t often leave his closet, though, which is why he notices its absence straight away. There’s a lifetime of safety and comfort in this old hoodie, for both of them, and that’s all Tony could ever wish to give Peter.

Career Day, by @superhusbands4ever

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Peter’s enhanced senses picked up the familiar voice from outside the door. “I had a meeting this morning and then I got lost looking for the class… anyway, I’m here for Peter? Peter Parker?”

He frowned at hearing his name, still unsure what exactly was going on. He watched as his teacher continued to stand and stare out the door for a minute before seemingly remembering herself and taking a step back.

“Of course! If you could just go sit next to him until your turn, he’s in the back on the right side.”

The man stepped through the door and Peter gaped with the rest of the class as Tony Stark, in his signature suit and goatee, sporting a pair of red sunglasses and carrying a suitcase walked through the door.

Kryptonite, by forensicleaf 

The kid is acting weird.

Tony tries to figure it out.

father’s day, by @iron--spider 

It’s Father’s Day, and Tony never really had a father. Not in the real sense of the word, not in the way that counts.

Peter Parker doesn’t have a father, either. Not anymore, anyway, not since he was little, and the amount of years that have passed since then outweigh the amount of time he got with Richard Parker.

Tony wouldn’t call himself Peter’s dad. He wouldn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t think of himself that way, no way, no way.

He stares at himself in the mirror. He pulls down on his cheeks, makes his eyes water. He runs his hands over the roughness of his jaw and sorta hates everything about himself right now, because he’s acting like a goddamn idiot. It’s Father’s Day and he’s not a father. He doesn’t know why the hell he’s pining for something that isn’t his, shouldn’t be his, can never be his. He isn’t a father, he isn’t Peter’s father, so there’s no reason on God’s green earth for Peter and him to do something for Father’s Day.

ain’t no valley low enough, by @iron--spider (yes, again, ‘cuz she’s the best)

Peter snorts. “You know I didn’t apply anywhere in Florida.”

“Please, kid, you know all you have to do is write a beautiful essay with my recommendation attached to it and you’re in. You’ve got the scores.”

Peter has a list. Of all the places he applied to, all the places he got into. A lot of it was encouraged by the adult role models in his life, some of it by Ned daydreaming about places like California and Colorado. Mostly, Peter just applied everywhere he could think of, because he’s known for a long time that Tony was gonna help May pay for it, and he didn’t wanna limit his options. Thinking about college has been strange for him, strange to the extent that he had a full blown panic attack about it in the middle of Avengers taco night last month. He can’t really understand it, doesn’t get why it feels like the end of the world—because he’s experienced the end of the world, and it’s not which campus has a bowling alley and which school has circus classes. But he nearly blacked out all the same, sobbed in Tony’s arms on the balcony until Tony proposed this. The road trip.

and when it’s hard, i’ll place your head into my hands, by hopeless_hope

“Tony,” Pepper sing-songs to get his attention. “Your mother hen is showing.”

“What?” he snaps indignantly. “I am not a mother hen. This is just... concern. Of the average kind. Perfectly normal.”

“Of course,” Pepper humors him, and he shoots her a dirty look as he types out a quick text to Peter.

or

It's been five days since Tony's heard from Peter, who's away at college, and Tony is not coping well. (Neither is Peter.)

Peter likes cuddles (and Tony too, but he always denies it... until he can’t)

my arms will hold you (keep you safe and warm), by parkrstark 

“So, you’re telling me your body...is going through Oxytocin withdrawals?” Tony asked slowly.

“Cuddle withdrawals,” Peter corrected him. “Mr. Stark cuddles.”

TW : Rape/non-cons

make me strong, by parkrstark 

It all started when Tony introduced Peter to Skip Westcott. He just didn't know until it was too late.

(There is a lot more, but I can’t find it rn ;-;)

5+1 

5 times peter clung to tony, by parkrstark 

... and the one time tony clung to him.

You are my Dad, you’re my dad, boogiewoogiewoogie, by Hittinmiss

“Peter? What’s going on kid?” Tony asked, him popping up on the phone’s screen.

“Hey da-” Peter started automatically before immediately noticing his mistake, the look on Ned’s face proved that yes, he almost called Tony Stark dad. He needed to try recover quickly because the look on Tony’s face seemed confused, especially with his slight pause. “-aaaaaamn Mr. Stark I really like your shirt. Where’d you get it?”

Smooth.

---

5 times Peter called Tony Dad and the 1 time Tony called himself Dad

5 Times Tony Took Care of Peter..., by As_Clear_As_Crystal 

“Think if I coded a sign into your suit that says ‘Baby on Board,’ maybe criminals wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about murdering you?” Tony asks airily, poking at the bottom of Peter’s foot.

Peter halfheartedly kicks at Tony with his toe. (“That’s offensive, Mr. Stark.” )

- - -

aka: Five times Tony took care of Peter, and one time Peter took care of Tony.

5 times Peter is stuck with Tony, by @iron--spider

(...and one time he’s stuck alone.)

“I wonder if Pepper’s reported me missing yet,” Tony says, with an exaggerated sigh. “I wonder if this is some kind of scheme to kidnap me or something.”

“I think the ride’s just broken,” Peter says.

“Today of all goddamn days,” Tony says, exasperation clear in his voice and in his eyes. “Ruining our trip—”

“It’s not ruined,” Peter says. “Look, we’re hanging out."

“Real quality time,” Tony huffs. “Us, a few other trapped members of the general public, and a handful of animatronic pirates. Drunk pirates. Repeating themselves.”

5 times tony forgot peter was just a kid, by @parkrstark

...and the 1 time he didn't.

Or the one where it was hard for Tony to remember that the kid fighting next to him was still just a kid.

can i get a good night’s sleep ? can i PLEASE get a good night’s sleep ?, by peterstank 

The doors open and there’s Peter, perched on a gurney with his shirt gone and a whole lot of blood staining his side. He’s bent awkwardly, clearly trying to feel his way around whatever wound he’s got.

“Um,” Tony says, approaching, “What.”

Peter looks up and—yeah, he’s lost a lot more blood than Tony had originally thought. His face is completely fucking drained. “Hey,” he says, offering a jaunty wave before returning his attention to his side. “I got shot.”

“Oh!” Tony nods. “Oh, okay. What the fuck, kiddo?”

or: five times peter doesn’t sleep + the one time he does

Five Times Peter and Tony Had Each Other’s Back, by Sahiya

... and One Time They Needed Help.

Peter is Tony’s Biological Child

I Had the Dream Again, by Skeeter_110

Peter calls Tony in the middle of the night crying.

Congratulations, it’s a Boy, by capiocapi 

"Sir, I have the results.”

“Okay, Jarvis. Hit me.”

“It’s a match. 99.9% chance that he is your biological son, which is the percentage needed to be recognized by law as a biological parent.”

Tony’s stomach did a funny swooping dance. “Great. Congratulations to me then, eh? It’s a boy.”

You Are My Sunshine, by @iamconstantine

Tony Stark had always been a man of science and he always would be. It was his personal and fundamental belief that everything had an explanation. His eventual encounters with Norse gods, alien life, and sorcerers did kind of quake this a little bit, but still.

One thing that had always confounded him as the one thing that had no scientific explanation was fate. Murphy’s law, Finagle’s law, the butterfly effect, the domino effect, the snowball effect, and the wisest of all: “Shit happens.”

So how peculiar was it that one of the greatest things to ever happen to him began with a tray of champagne?

Serie i love you more than anything, by @iron--spider 

The highs and lows of Tony unexpectedly becoming a single dad at 31– from Peter’s early baby years, all the way past the defeat of Thanos

May’s abusive boyfriend trope 

A Peter Parker Problem, by @spagbol99

Peter Parker was back from the dead. At least that is what everybody told him. He'd been snapped out of existence until some sort of time travel and an active death wish by his mentor had saved him and the universe. Just your average sort of life for a 16 year old from Queens.

Peter comes back to find May has a husband and a kid. A new family he has to fit into. But he has done it before, he can do it again.

The only thing that feels solid is Tony: the Blip and fatherhood have mellowed him and Peter loves the bond they have now. He knows Tony would be there for him through anything. But Tony needs to focus on his own recovery - not small time Peter Parker problems. When things at home take a turn for the worse, Peter decides that he'll handle it himself. He is Spider-man. He's been to space and fought aliens. He can get through anything. After all, if May is happy, he is happy, right? Right?

(again, I’ve read a lot more but can’t find it...)

Peter Parker Whump (everyone’s favorite trope)

Danger Pizza, by alice_in_ink

The window was pushed open, and Iron Man’s head popped into his bedroom. “Here’s where I’m confused—why lock the front door but leave the fire-escape-accessible windows unlocked?” He clambered through said window. “Seems like a safety hazard.”

Peter eyed the metal suit as it straightened to a standing position. “Did you break into my window to kill me?”

The face plate lifted, and Tony’s eyes quickly looked over the teen. “Christ, kid. It looks like you’re halfway there.”

...

A wild night on patrol leaves Peter with a broken back, and boy, does he want to be able to move without dying. (So he calls Anthony Stark, obviously.)

If You Can’t Catch A Breath (You Can Take The Oxygen Straight Out Of My Own Chest), by @losingmymindtonight

"And I would hurry. Little Peter is about to be under quite a lot of pressure, and it might get a little hard to breathe.”

I’ve Got You, by @thedumbestavenger

Peter runs into a Copycat Vulture out on patrol, from there, everything escalates.

Meetings and Migraines, by AllThingsGeeky

Peter has another migraine at an unfortunate time and despite his best efforts he can’t ignore it forever.

The Most Important Thing In The World, by S0lstice

Peter’s door creaked and began to bend under the force of the crowbar and for the first time since regaining consciousness, fear began to press into him. Something very bad was happening and it was happening fast - too fast for his sluggish mind to keep up.

He went with his instincts instead, the first one always being, Help Mr. Stark.

Friendly Fire, by @jolinarjackson

Finding a careful truce with the government, the “rogue Avengers” are allowed to return to the Compound where they are put under house arrest. Peter coming to spend one week at the Compound during his summer break couldn’t have come at a more inconvenient time as the opportunity to bond a little more with his mentor is overshadowed by a conflict he doesn’t quite understand. When he starts to develop a mysterious medical condition, however, the former team is forced to work together – not just to protect Peter’s identity from the DODC, but also to find the cause for his illness before it’s too late.

“He’s my kid,” Tony said, his voice hoarse. “He’s my kid and I failed him.” He covered his eyes and took a few deep, shuddering breaths. “All I ever do is fail him.” Natasha knelt down in front of him and cupped his face in her hands, waiting for him to meet her eyes before she said, “Right now, he doesn’t need you to fix this. He doesn’t need you down here. He needs you over there, in the medbay, by his side.” She thumbed tears from the corners of his eyes and ignored the ones running down her own face. “You haven’t failed him yet.”

alarm bells and panic levels, by @iron--spider

Tony lands heavy on the dock, the wood splintering hard under the metal suit. He’s having trouble breathing, his nose is bleeding, he most definitely has more than the recommended amount of broken ribs. But none of that fucking matters. The sky is clear, the assholes are down, but there’s one thing missing.

He looks over his shoulder when Rhodey lands too. His suit is dented in a few places but other than that he looks alright. His face mask flips up and Tony lets his mask retract.

“Where’s Peter?” Tony asks, his voice rough with the amount of yelling he’s been doing. Fuck these stupid assholes. They were supposed to go mini-golfing today. The kid had been looking forward to it for weeks.

Rhodey looks around, breathing hard through his mouth. “I thought you knew.”

there’s something wrong, by @iron--spider

“I’m sorry, Pete,” Tony whispers. “We should have checked you for something like this when we were resetting your arm and checking on the concussion. Goddamnit. We didn’t think.”

“He poisoned us both?” Peter asks, trying to open one eye to look at him.

“Yeah,” Tony says, brushing Peter’s hair back from his forehead. “He’s dying. He got the brunt of it, a nice fucking cocktail of bullshit, including mercury and a bunch of other toxic shit—”

“Am I dying?” Peter whispers, voice breaking.

Fitting In (Tiny Spaces), by aloneintherain

Peter's trapped beneath a collapsed building during a mission, hurt and unable to move. Luckily, his comm still works. Unluckily, the Avengers don’t realise how bad of a state Peter is in, and Peter isn’t inclined to tell them.

“Spidey, they’ve got reinforcements. We’ve hit a bit of a snag here, and I don’t think anyone will be able to help you for a while. Think you can sit tight while we deal with this?”

The pressure on his lower back and legs was becoming too much. Peter swallowed thickly, fighting down panic. He could handle this.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “I can do that.”

Collections/Series (’cause I could make an inventory of all @iron--spider stories, you know, but you have to read all of her work, if you haven’t yet) (God she doesn’t even know who I am)

iron dad bingo, by @iron--spider

stay at home, by @iron--spider

whumptober, by @iron--spider

Whumptober 2019, by @marvelous-writer

Day in the life of the Iron Family, by @marvelous-writer 

The Tumblr Archives, by @losingmymindtonight

Everything comes back to you, by @losingmymindtonight

Nice work, kid, by @madasthesea

Irondad Bingo 2019, by sahiya 

The Adventures of Spidy-son and Iron-dad, by eva7673

Tony adopts Peter (why everyone kills May, btw ?)

Accepting the Tides, by @emma--anacortes

Tony had dragged Peter from the depths of despair after May's death. It was normal that he'd grown to care a little about him, right?

Yeah, okay. He freaking loved the kid.

So naturally he would feel a little weird when Richard Parker randomly shows up in Peter's life. Naturally he'd feel protective, nervous, and confused because where has Richard been all this time? And why does Tony feel sick every time he sees him around Peter?

All he knows is if Richard hurts his kid, Tony's gonna give him hell.

Series Out of Darkness, by @starryknight09

“Is this Peter Parker?”

“Yes…”

“This is Dr. Nguyen. I’m sorry but your aunt’s been in an accident and we’re going to need you to come to Queens Memorial as soon as you can.”

Peter's life shatters with a phone call. The last person he expects helps him pick up the pieces.

#irondad #irondad spiderson #irondad fic #fic recs

[duggardata]

I think the way you calculate some of the procreation paces is sort of not as accurate as it could be. Since you adjust the spacing for a miscarriage or health issue, now all of the girls (Bates girls in particular) are estimated as if they will never have a miscarriage or health flare-up in the future, which unfortunately at least some of them probably will. What do you think?

While I get what you’re saying, the fact is that both methods—adjusting, or not—are imperfect.  IMO, it makes more sense to adjust, for a few reasons—

Sample Size  We’re working with small samples, here, so aberrant data points will potentially have a huge impact on averages.

Quiverfull Beliefs   I'd be a lot more concerned about adjusting data, if we were dealing with a non–Quiverfull (QF) population.  For the non–QF population, I’d expect health issues in pregnancy to result in intentional family planning or family size limitation.  But, for QF Couples, there’s an assumption that, despite any challenge in pregnancy, they will continue to procreate if they’re able to do so.  This assumption is fundamental to the Predictor, as a whole.

Focus on Immediate Prediction   IMO, data adjustment is problematic mostly when it comes to the ‘big picture.’  For example, I think there is a strong possibility that, due to her struggles in pregnancy, Josie might be physically unable to have 17 Children.  But, the Predictor is designed, at its core, as a tool for immediate forecasting.  It’s focus is on predicting a couple’s next event, first and foremost.  With that in mind, it makes a lot of sense to adjust aberrant data, if the circumstances that created it are known and not expected to immediately recur.

Also, I want to point out...  If a circumstance is extremely likely to recur—e.g., Erin delivering ~3 Weeks Early—I don’t treat that data as an outlier.  I factor it into that couple’s data, just like any other data point, even if it seems ‘strange’ in the context of other couples’ data.

Finally, I don’t adjust data willy–nilly or automatically.  Before adjusting, I think through whether it makes sense to do so, and I’m wary of excessively shifting the raw data.  And I try to be aware of and prevent new issues from appearing as a result of data shifts!  For example, when I started factoring in miscarriage  data, I noticed that post–loss spacings tend to be unusually short.  Instead of just factoring these usual spacings in and unjustifiably skewing the data of all couples who’d experienced a loss, I decided to treat post–loss spacing as its own category.  (Which I’m now able to use to forecast pregnancies after loss, an added bonus!)

I’d like to walk through a few scenarios where I’ve adjusted the data or not...

Let’s take consider the case of Premature Delivery.  In the Bates Family, there are several women who routinely deliver early—notably, Erin Paine.  For Erin, giving birth 3–4 Weeks Early is completely normal, so I don’t adjust any of her Child Spacings to reflect when her children ‘should’ have arrived.  But, on the other hand, we’ve got a few cases when the child was premature when that is not normal for the mother—notably, Josie Duggar and Madeline Maxwell.  For those cases, I don’t use the raw spacing between the prior child and the early arrival; that just doesn’t make sense.  Instead, I use the preemie’s Due Date + Mom’s Delivery vs. Due Date data to figure out the Expected DOB, which is then used to calculate the Expected Child Spacing, which is used in place of the actual spacing for that child only.

Also...  The case of health issues.  I think Alyssa’s case is a major one, here...  She suffered heart issues, which were eventually corrected with surgery.  I’ve made the decision to count her subsequent child’s (Maci) Child Spacing from the date of Alyssa’s last surgery, rather than from the prior child’s DOB.  Anon isn’t wrong that, by doing this, I’m more–or–less assuming that Alyssa’s heart issues won’t affect her fertility in the future; however, I think it’s justified in her case, since she has publicly stated that her issue is likely cured.

Soon, I’ll have to decide whether to treat Erin’s health issues just like Alyssa’s, or adjust her data in some other way.  For now, I’m assuming that Erin + Chad won’t be affected by Erin’s ovarian issues, going forward.  (That decision was largely based on how quickly Erin got pregnancy with Paine #5, after her last surgery...  Certainly seems like her fertility may not be as limited as they were led to believe!)  But, that is absolutely not set in stone!  If Paine #6, #7, etc., have much longer Child Spacings than Erin had prior to her surgeries, then it would make sense to ignore her pre–surgery data in future predictions.  And, that’s what I would do!

Hope this makes sense.  When I adjust data, I really am trying to consider all the information we have and use it to the best of my ability.  It’s not a perfect process, and there are a lot of unknowns we can’t account for, but that’s just part of predicting...  We wouldn’t need to predict if we already knew exactly what to expect!

#predictor

[whump-a-la-mode]

Nemesis - Choose Your Own Whump 2

With A receiving the most votes on my last post, for this adventure we are going with a drugged Villain whumpee. Sorry about the generic name for this one, I really couldn’t think of anything else ^^

I hope you enjoy, and thanks to everyone for replying to the last post! As always, votes can be sent in through any method you want. Comments, asks, and PMs are all just fine. I’ll see it!

CW//Falling off a building, hostage situations, shapeshifting, medical abuse, extensive talk of sedatives, brief mention of a needle

Please note that the third scene of this piece is from the point of view of a drugged character, and thus the scene has some aspects that could be described as unreality. Please skip this scene if this would make you uncomfortable.

The video was grainy.

It was always grainy. That was the strange thing about it-- everyone carried around miniature computers in their pockets, equipped with tiny cameras that would have rivaled the most powerful devices of years prior. Any civilian could take a 4k quality video on some social media, but the moment anything actually important was happening, technology seemed to regress twenty years.

Hero supposed it didn’t matter. Their memory of the incident was certainly clear as day, better than any camera could ever capture.

And yet...

They clicked a button on the remote, and the clip restarted.

The sides of the screen were blocked out in fuzzy grey-- the video having been taken through the bars of a metal fence. Between them, the camera focused at first on the foot of a brown brick building, before panning upwards, only stopping upon reaching the roof. It took a moment for the visual to adjust, focusing against the glare of the sun overhead.

Two figures, on the building’s roof. Two figures seen so often together, in so many similar videos.

The standoff had taken from dawn till sunset. How Villain had gotten into the building unnoticed had yet to be fully understood, but, regardless of method, they wasted little time in taking hostage a group of professors, eating lunch together. A single one had been released, bringing with them a message:

“Everyone leaves. No one comes in. Everyone stays outside the fence.”

It had seemed like a trap, at first. Of course it had. It wouldn’t be the first time that Villain had played such a trick. After much debating, however, evacuation was deemed to be the best option, and the campus was soon barren.

The hours afterwards had been as long and hot as they had been nerve-wracking. The very thought of following orders from Villain made Hero’s stomach twist, but their orders were incredibly clear: Don’t do anything stupid.

It was an incredibly difficult order to follow.

Establishing a line of communication had been the hardest part. Villain had quickly disconnected any security cameras in the vicinity, alongside confiscating any technology their hostages might have held.

In the end, it was decided that a reporter would be the one to go in. One of the most recognizable faces in the city, and one that was neutral. Not fighting for either side, but representing the citizenry.

The whole plan bet on one fact: That the shapeshifting Hero could pull of the imitation.

It worked. At least, it worked for as long as it needed to. Villain accepted the olive branch, and allowed the supposed reporter to enter unharmed.

Of course, the illusion broke as soon as Hero opened their mouth. No matter how good they were at changing their shape, it did not change their voice. In the brief moment of confusion, the hostages had managed to make their escape.

Leaving only the two nemeses, and the building as their battlefield.

It was hard to remember the fight. They had waged so many battles against one another, they all seemed to blend together, at one point or another. There was broken glass, pushed over tables, exploding equipment, and then-

And then they were on the roof.

Villain was stupid, but they weren’t, well, they weren’t stupid. They may have had the moral compass of a kleptomaniac feline, and the brain cells to match, but they had common sense. A sense of self-preservation.

Forcing them to the edge of the roof... it was supposed to be like pushing them to a corner. Trapping them.

In the video, the two figures danced. Forward, and back, until one took the lead. Until they were up against the edge, with nowhere left to go.

They were supposed to stop. They weren’t supposed to fall.

They stopped their own fall, or at least they tried. They were telekinetic. Of course they did. But they were surprised, or confused, or, or something. They slowed themself down. But they did not stop. The force with which they struck the concrete parking lot below was more than enough to knock them out.

The video ended.

And... that was it. The end. Years and years of battles, some won, some lost, all ended. They should have been happy, and they were! They hated Villain, sincerely and truly hated them.

But no other villain fought like them. No other villain had their tongue, their wit. Their skill. Their fight.

Villain’s defeat should have been epic! The ultimate confrontation of good and evil, of chaos, and order.

Yet, their downfall was a simple trip.

In the corner of Hero’s TV screen, small white text helpfully reported to them just when that video had been recorded.

One year ago.

One year, since that day. Since Villain’s downfall. And now...

Hero’s phone buzzed. A text message. The confirmation of a meeting.

One whole year, and still, Hero’s mind was consumed by their lost nemesis.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━   

The diner was terribly busy, and yet, when Hacker walked through the door, Hero had no doubts as to their identity.

Despite their rather stereotypical appearance, there was nothing about the person’s manner that would have indicated the sheer amount of time they spent behind a computer screen. They greeted the receptionist, pointed to Hero, and exchanged a few words beyond that. With a smile, then, they parted, and made their way to Hero’s table.

Their manner only seemed strange when they sat down, and Hero noted that the way they smiled seemed to pain them.

“Is this seriously what you people act like?” They hissed through bared teeth. “Can I stop smiling now? Or will they look at me weird?”

“They’re already looking at you weird.”

“They are?”

“You- You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh thank god.” Immediately, their expression fell into one far more analytic. Far less friendly. “I, uh, don’t get out much.”

“Really?” Hero raised a brow incredulously. 

“I’ve got more important things to do than, uh, than going out. Anyways.” They stuck a hand outwards. It was partially covered by a fingerless glove. “I’m Hacker.”

“I figured.” Hero shook the offered hand. “I’m Hero, though I suppose you already know that.”

“You’d think people here would be, uh, a bit more in awe? It’s not everyday you get to eat in the same building as a superhero.”

“Keep your voice down, please.”

“Oh, sorry. Is it, like, a secret? You don’t have a secret identity, do you?”

“No. But when I’m out of costume, I’m not exactly that recognizable. So let’s keep it that way. Kapish?”

“Kapash. But, still, oh my god. This is so cool! A real life hero...”

“Yeah... Yeah. A real hero alright.”

A hero who could hardly focus during battle. A hero who infuriated their team leader more than they aided them.

“Anyways.” Hacker raised their head, a far more natural smile coming onto their face. “I have the... thing.”

“You mentioned that. It’s about Villain, right?”

“Mhm.”

The person across the booth leaned down, prying a laptop from a carrying case and placing it atop the table. It was a bulky thing, and as soon as it was turned on, the shrill sound of fans struggling not to overheat filled Hero’s head. Hacker clicked around a bit. They gripped the edges of the device, as if about to spin it around, before they stopped, frowning.

“It’s been a year now, hasn’t it?” They commented.

“Since Villain was captured. Yes. 374 days.”

“You remember?”

“Yes.”

“You miss them, don’t you?”

It was so direct. Hero couldn’t help but stutter:

“I don’t- Of course I don’t miss them. I hate them.”

Hacker looked up over the laptop screen to give them an incredulous look. It wasn’t a convincing lie.

“I don’t miss them.” Hero stood their ground. “But I want to make sure they’re contained.”

“I just... I don’t know if this is something you want to see. You’re trying to move on, and-”

“Show me it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. If it’s something to do with their containment, I need to know about it. I can’t let them hurt anyone else.”

“Well, that’s not the problem here. If you’re sure.”

With a sigh, Hacker spun the computer around, so that it’s screen faced Hero.

They weren’t sure what they expected. Some kind of... deep web threat? A message from Villain? A copycat? An escape attempt?

But they didn’t get any of that. Instead, the screen displayed a simple PDF. Medical records. At the top, in bold letters and a rather ostentatious logo, the header read:

Specialized Criminal Rehabilitation Unit of Organization

For the most part, the page was Greek to Hero. A slew of ID numbers and attending physicians with far too many acronyms following their names. What did make sense to them was the spreadsheet that made up most of the page, labelled:

Approved Daily Medication Dosage for Patient: Villain

The spreadsheet took up two pages with solid text. Hero did not recognize the medication names, of course, but they did not need to be a doctor to understand the entries written under the column labelled “Medication Purpose.”

Every single data cell, even as they scrolled to the bottom of the document, contained only one word. The same word.

Sedation

“This is...” Hero muttered, furrowing their brow. Scrolling up and down. This had to be wrong, somehow.

“I don’t understand most of it.” Hacker commented sheepishly. “But, uh, I have a few friends with some more medical knowledge than me. They’ve never seen anything like it. It’s more than enough medication to sedate a fucking elephant- sorry, excuse my language.”

“It’s fine.” The confusion in their voice was rapidly melting to fury.

“Even for major surgical procedures... nothing near this level would ever be used.”

“This has to be a mistake.” Hero shook their head. “A mix-up. Maybe it’s like... all the medications the facility ordered. And they just labelled it wrong.”

“Well, if it’s a mistake, they’ve been making the exact same one for an entire year. I’ve got 374 of these files. Newest one just got uploaded a few hours ago.”

“And they’re always the same?”

“With some minor dosage adjustments, but yes. That’s not, um, that’s not all of it.”

Hacker reached over, dragging the computer back so that it faced them again. There was more clicking this time, along with typing at a speed that made Hero’s fingers hurt, just to watch it.

When the laptop was spun back around, this time, it was a video.

A camera feed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  

Villain felt about to choke on their tongue.

It wasn’t a new feeling. More or less, it was the only thing they felt, anymore. That heavy block of muscle in their mouth, threatening at any moment to block throat choke air no air no-

They were losing their words again. Words... wordsssssss... Voices. Voices spoke words. Sometimes, they did. Sometimes they grumbled and muttered and sputtered and murmured like a car murmured. Cars... or was it cats? No, cats didn’t murmur. They purred. What else did they do? Not bark... no, barking too loud for cats. Cat go mew mew, real quiet like.

Cat’s meow, that is a cat’s voice. There were other voices, too. Quiet like cats. Two of them, two voices. They knew those voices, those were the doctors’ voices. The doctors liked to talk a lot. They talked, but they did not see. Or... no. They were not seen. Villain did not see them. They wanted to, but their eyes were broken. The engines in their eyelids would not run anymore, would not open the garage door, Sally!

One of the doctors’ voices got closer. A million miles away, a hand was laid upon Villain’s wrist, flipping over their hand so that their palm faced downward.

“Let’s move it.”

It was a silly thing to say. Nothing moved in this place. Nothing that Villain could see, as their eyes were broken.

“Is the other vein healed enough?”

“It’s going to have to be.”

Silly words... Villain wanted to laugh, but their muscles were firmly locked away behind a padlock.

“Okay.” The doctor sounded so sad. Why were they so sad? Villain’s mouth was full of soil. The doctor was tired. “I’ll get the rest of the medicines.”

“We’re going 30 milligrams up from yesterday on the Propofol.”

“Oh? Why?”

“They opened their eyes, yesterday.”

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Hero felt sick. In the top right corner of the security footage, the same logo from the medical records was displayed. The Specialized Criminal Rehabilitation Unit of Organization. Below it, a subtitle.

“Keeping the city safe.”

Was this safety? It shouldn’t have been. They had known, of course, what had happened to Villain after their capture and very brief hospital stay. It was what happened to all villains. They were sent to the rehab unit.

A therapy program. Helping villains to control their powers and reform their lives. To return them to the straight and narrow. But, now that Hero thought about it...

Villain was the only one who had never been released.

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Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Tell someone about what is happening - Who should Hero tell? (They are on a small team, as well as part of a larger Organization, for reference.)

B.) Attempt a more direct approach. Visit Villain in the rehab program - Should Hero try to rescue Villain immediately?

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #hero villain whump #drugged whumpee #drugged villain #villain whumpee #hero villain prompt #choose your own whump #choose your own adventure #nemesis