#did I put him in the ship post...I think I have to edit it ouch

[doki-doki-imagines]

You never show your face to him during intimate moments.

Bachira Meguru:

-No way he is okay with this, he needs to see your eyes to understand what is going on.

-They are also the first trait that pulled him to you, so covering them ruins all the fun.

-“Ohi, what’s wrong?”

-There is no way Bachira will let this topic go, he’ll cage you under him and he’ll stare until you break.

-Bachira can be pretty intimidating when he wants.

-So you break, you tell him you don’t want to see his disgusted face when he’ll look at your body, how you are scared shitless of your low appeal, and…damn you can’t talk anymore between sobs.

-Bachira treats you with the delicacy that only someone in love could have. He is still caging you under him, but his expression is much softer like his embrace.

-“You can be so dumb at times. Don’t know how those thoughts got into that silly head of yours, but I’ll make sure to push them all away”

Rin Itoshi: -Why do you always hide your face, why do you always turn the other way around, why, why, why

-So Rin thinks he is the problem, you don’t want to look at him because you are disgusted by him, maybe you prefer to think of someone else…

- As often happen Rin's green monster crawls under his skin, ready to vomit venom on you at the first sign of hiding.

-But this time, when you cover your eyes for the nth time Rin notices something new; are your lips trembling? Are you gonna cry? Is he so disgusting?

-So with his usual gentlemanly ways, he grips your wrist to push your arms out of the way and whispers “What the hell is wrong with you”

-The atmosphere is so tense you think it is gonna kill you soon if you don’t spill your insecurity and that’s what you do, chest heavy, but trying to maintain at least a bit of dignity

-“Never heard such dumb shit ever in my life”

-If the situation wasn’t so dramatic, you have kneed his kidney.

-So you think to be the problem…this change the entire situation! He doesn’t know how to deal with this situation anyway, but he feels relieved!

-A little less relieved when he looks at your face, eyes watery and ugly pout.

-Rin for sure doesn’t know how to express himself with words, so he’ll do it physically. Will it take more time? Probably, but it is the easiest way for him while trying to make you understand how pure shit those intrusive thoughts are.

Oliver Aiku:

-With a guy like Oliver the issue came out way sooner than with the others guys.

-And for you, the issue got even worse since it was way easier to imagine him going with someone else if you aren’t good enough.

-With someone else, Oliver wouldn’t have given two fucks in all honesty.

-But he is serious about you?? So he at least wants to try, he doesn’t want to give up so easily.

-It was during a normal indoor date that Oliver asked you about this.

-You were watching a film together, your head lying on his chest, his arm around your waist, so it was easy to stop your probable runaway.

-And he was so good at making you relax. It’s not like it was easy to talk about the topic, but at least Oliver put you at ease.

-But his ass is burnt. Do you trust him so little? Damn it hurts. He jokes about it with you, laughs even, but the pain is real.

-Oliver will try anything in his capabilities to make you understand that more often than not brains can come out with fucked up shit that aren’t true.

-But now you also have to demonstrate you trust him; it still stings you know?

#bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk headcanons #blue lock headcanons #bachira meguru #bachira meguru x you #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #oliver aiku #oliver aiku x reader #often read over confident reader with their body and since I'm not I decided to make a trope for reader like me #even if honestly I hope nobody has my same problem #Overconfidence in this case I think it is a blessing LOL #I had so many characters in mind but went for them #I love you Oliver #did I put him in the ship post...I think I have to edit it ouch #what a girlkeep girlboss gaslight thing to do not adding him to keep Oliver all for myself AHAHAAH

[d-c-it]

I rather forget- 7

Intro, One, Patton, Logan, Roman 1, Roman 2, Virgil, Dark

Summary: It always starts with a kiss and goes downhill from there, doens't it.

Ships: platonic DRLAMP, romantic Roceit, platonic anxceit, platonic intrulogical

Warnings: sympathetic Deceit, Remus being a trash man, mentions of blood, a lot of innuendos and curses, panic attacks, you know, the usual.

Not beta-ed we die like man.

A/N: Ha…hahaha… heyyyy. Not sure anyone is still interested in this. But I decided to finish it for the sake of my sanity. I found It on my drive and re-read it and… kinnnda tried to remember where I was going with it.

Kindly reminder this story is set just after Remus was introduced. Gonna proof read the other chapters and edit them on ao3, not here tho. Too annoying. Still going to post them here. Gonna tag the ppl that asked to be tagged. If you don’t want to be tagged anymore pls lemme know.

.

“Roman!”

When the creative side opened his eyes, the first thing he did was kiss Deceit.

There were plenty of things wrong with that decision though. Firstly, he had thought he put those urges behind him. Secondly, surely, surely he didn’t feel that way about the lying side anymore. Thirdly, even if the first and second statements were untrue, it wouldn't matter, because the Deceit he was trying to kiss was a memory… right? He would pass straight (gay?) through him, right? RIGHT? So why were the lips on his so warm and soft…and…?

“Ouch!” he said, as he covered his now bitten lips with his hand. “What the hell?” he glared at Deceit. 

Oh god.

“I should be asking that!” hissed the snake side, Roman felt a little smug at the subtle blush on his cheeks. “You’re ice cold! What are you, especifically you, doing here?” The hold on his arms was bruising hard, Deceit helped him up, one hand on his waist as the yellow side realized Roman could barely stand.

“We were trying to find… what were we…?” Roman could barely think. Deceit was basically carrying him through the halls that now looked more like a maze.

“We? What is this we? The others are also here?” he was glaring, Roman was getting glared at. What a pair of pretty eyes… “Focus, Roman.” 

Roman frowned, trying to remember what exactly he was doing just a minute ago. Wasn't he on a date? What was Dee panicking about? Weren’t they having a good time? Another one of Deceit’s hands was brought to his face, caressing his cheek. Roman melted under it, closing his eyes and getting ready to be kissed.

“Roman!” Deceit hissed instead.

The prince opened his eyes wide, in a moment of clarity he freed himself from Deceit’s grasp. He looked around frantically. Where the heck was Virgil? 

“Anxiety brought you here?”

“No!” Roman finally stood up, realizing he had spoken aloud, but just as he found his balance the place rumbled. Deceit’s face turned pale as both of them stumbled.

“Thomas is here.” Roman turned to look at him so fast he almost got whiplash.

“How…?” 

“Come on. We need to get you out of here and Thomas.” Roman could only mutter a quiet ‘but Virgil…’ as Deceit dragged him around. “Shit.” He stopped and turned, following an unknown path for Roman. “He must be close… Let’s go, my prince.”

Blame it on the state the subconscious had him in. Blame it on his cold limbs or the confusing state of his mind. But Roman may have swooned at that.

.

“I don’t think this idea is worth us all dying.”

“We are not dying, Thomas, you silly goose.” laughed Patton, as they dodged the gray frames that had catched up to them. “...Right, Lo?”

“Indeed.” answered the logical side, looking a bit out of breath. “We are… after all…figments…”

“Of my imagination, right. Well, I am very real!” screamed Thomas, as one wave of frames almost touched him turning a corner. 

He screamed again when, having successfully made it to the new hallway, he came face to face with Remus. Thomas didn’t know who’s screech was louder, his, Remus’s or the others, but as he fell to the floor he watched the Duke smash down the closest frames with his morning star. Patton grabbed his hand, Remy holding his other one as they turned to keep running. He saw Remus grabbing Logan by the back of his shirt pulling him back to start running too. He would have laughed at the funny image, but there were more worrisome things going at the moment.

“You so owe me a blowjob after this, Logi.”

“Not the time, Remus.”

“OH, so there will be a time?”

“Can you horny bitches focus!?” yelled Remy. Thomas thanked him mentally, he didn’t need that image on his mind, perhaps he could put it here? 

Another wall went up between them and the threatening frames, having got some distance thanks to Remus’s intervention. Everyone sighed in relief, running around was starting to tire them up. Well, everyone except Remus.

“So? What’s with this party and why wasn’t I invited? I know some cool party tricks.” he said, balancing his morning star on his nose. Some of the spikes pierced his skin and made him bleed. Thomas suddered, but also realized something.

“You saved us!” he exclaimed. Startling the Duke, making his weapon fall from its balancing position. He looked down at it with a pout, when he looked at Thomas his face was free from scratches. “Why did you save us?” The Duke only shrugged, picking at his nose. Patton scolded him.

“Of course he saved us.” answered Logan instead. Fixing his tie. “ We are all part of you, Thomas. As I have exhaustedly reminded you, we want what's best for you…”

“Hey bitch, can you make me a starbucks? I’m dying here.” Thomas heard Remy say, still processing Logan's words. He saw Remus appear what at first glance did look like a Starbucks coffee, but…

“Eugh, are those dicks?”

“Stardicks coffee, my own brand!”

“And it’s neon green because…?”

“It’s radioactive!”

“...In our own kind of way.”finished Logan, shaking his head. “Why are you here, Remus?”

“I knew Roman was here!” squealed the Duke. “For a while now, thought the kinky bastard was jerking off somewhere near, thought about giving him a scare you know?” he cackled, playing with his mustache. Patton made a face, Thomas frowned at the statement. There was something weird with it. Logan just nodded.

“You were worried about him then.” Remus screeched, making everyone flinch, but didn’t deny the statement. Thomas blinked.

“Oh my god, I completely misjudged you.”

“DON’T LISTEN TO THE NERDY WOLVERINE! HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT HE’S TALKING ABOUT!”

“I always know what I’m talking about.” defended Logan.

“Infinitesimal.” grinned Remus.

“THAT WAS ONE TIME.”

.

Virgil was pacing. He wasn't panicking. He was living his best life. The floor wasn’t moving on its own and the room was definitely not getting smaller by the second.

He gasped for breath. He couldn’t breathe. If he couldn’t breathe he was going to die. He was dying. Wait, no, he couldn’t die, Logan had said so. Many times in fact. He couldn't die, but he was going to be feeling like this forever because he didn’t need oxygen. He was going to be drowning forever. No. Focus. He had to focus. Logan. Oh god, where was Logan? No, what did Logan say? The five things, five things he could see.

“Blue frames, red frames…” where the hell had Roman go? “Orange frames, green frames, yellow, yellow…” 

He curled up against the wall, sitting on the floor and hugging his legs.

“I can feel the wall, I can feel my clothes, I…” 

Everything started to shake again, making the colorful frames shake where they were hanging until eventually they started falling. He unthinkingly catched one.

It was green.

.

tag list:

@the-strawman

@mochasandwords

@askthesnake

@no-no-no-no-6

@korsaromantic66

@that-one-nb-kid

@scared-ghosthunter

@avocados26

@itsabsurd-and-terrifying

@thewormsheep

@immoral-bitch 

@thenaids

@xachery-apollo

#sanders sides #thomas sanders sides #ts patton #patton sanders #ts logan #logan sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts deceit #deceit sanders #janus sanders #but not yet #ts remus #remus sanders #tw remus #tw anxiety #tw morality #tw blood #tw curses #tw inuendos #tw panic attack #ts remy #remy sanders #i rather forget au #platonic drlamp #oh thats new #romantic roceit #platonic anxceit

[princessofprocrastination]

Not Suitable (Quackity)

MASTERLIST

pairing : quackity x female reader

summary : quackity has always had a specific vision of what he wants his partner to look like and certain qualities he wants in them. unfortunately for you, you are the opposite of what he wants. (ANGST) 

-

as a kid, you loved the whole girly look. you wore dresses, short heels that came in a princess toy set, and wore pink lipstick all the time. 

but as time passed, as you grew older, your look changed completely. you like to say that you simply matured, that it wasn’t at all serious. slowly but surely as you were in your teenage years, your favourite colour became black. 

that didn’t mean you didn’t like pink or these other “girly” colours. sometimes, you’d even incorporate some of those bright colours in your outfits to make a statement. you just seemed to like black, it matches with everything. 

although you kept wearing black outfits or have black or dark nail polish on, your hair never stayed black or a dark colour. you just hated the look of the natural colour on yourself. it sure did fit other people, though. 

you liked to describe your style as trendy. you always follow the trends of recent times and wore what you thought looked good on you. 

-

you sat down next to sapnap, dream in the next room. you and sapnap had been friends since highschool. you skipped a grade, making yourself one of the youngest in that class which meant that you were lonely and no one really wanted to make friends with you. 

but that quickly changed when nick came up to you and offered to eat lunch with you. since then, he had been your soulmate. platonic soulmate. 

of course, being friends with nick meant that you were bound to meet the other two boys that he considered his best friends, too. it just so happens that you, george and clay ended up building an amazing friendship really quickly.

three guy bestfriends. that technically equals to having three big, protective big brothers. they really cared about you and you can see that, even if they often make fun of you. 

nick started his stream, facecam on as you sat on an extra gaming chair that clay had next to nick. you typed away on your phone as he started rambling about random things while waiting for more people to come on. 

apparently today you and nick were meant to play some scary game, you controlling the keyboard, him on the mouse. nick often forgot that it takes you a lot to get scared. 

“we’re making this video inspired by quackity and karl’s stream from a while ago.” nick told his stream, you nodding your head to agree. 

you smiled softly at the name he mentioned. quackity. it was apparent to everyone that you had some sort of crush on him. the small smiles, the little blush that rose to your cheeks if someone were to mention your ship name or tease you about it. 

it was all too obvious. of course the three boys you call your best friends knew, you’d never keep such a secret from them. but no matter how annoying the boys can be, they never once told anyone else about your not-so-little crush. 

but that didn’t mean they didn’t tease you. they enjoyed it whenever your face would turn red, whether it being you’re embarrassed or you’re mad. 

the only weird part is that nowadays, they don’t even bother to tease you anymore, not like they used to. you knew they were hiding something from you, you just didn’t know what they were hiding. 

for example, you seated next to sapnap, grinning as he mentions quackity’s name. he would never let you live down that moment. he’d tease you senseless. but this time, he only glanced at you and looked back to the stream.

and what was that? seemed like a pity glance. almost looked like he felt bad. 

you two continued the stream as the ‘scared counter’ keeps going up as sapnap keeps getting scared, you constantly laughing at him. 

“HOW ARE YOU NOT EVEN FLINCHING?” nick screams in your ear. 

“cause i’m not a pussy.” you answered him simply. 

“oh shut up, will you.” he rolled his eyes, you laughed at him being a scaredy-cat. 

you two played for a while more as the counter on the bottom left of the stream screen gets higher and higher. soon enough it reached it’s limit which meant that sapnap needed to end his stream. 

-

it was weird how time works. one second, things were mellow and slow, just like how your everyday is, and the next second, your name was trending everywhere. 

you didn’t even want to check why at first, since you knew how weird and surprising your followers are.

“dude, you need to check twitter.” nick told you in a hurry while he runs from the second floor, to the kitchen in the first floor where you were sitting, editing a video for your channel. 

so you did exactly that. you scrolled through the trending page and clicked on your name. then, you saw hundreds, if not thousands edits and videos of quackity and your video. 

the video of yours that was posted was the part when you smiled at the mention on quackity’s name but as you scrolled more, it seemed that everyone had dug through and collected snippets of you blushing or smiling when quackity was mentioned or when you were on call with him. 

you and quackity were no stranger to each other. the two of you knew each other, sapnap and him being friends and all. you just couldn’t help but fall for him. he’s just extremely charming. 

although your exterior showed otherwise, you really swooned just by looking at his pictures. 

and that’s why all the stans are going crazy. they didn’t think you’d fall for someone, especially not a man who act like a child on the internet. but you can’t predict people, especially not who they like, or more, love. 

you slowly panicked. this was embarrassing to you. more so that it’s all over the internet. there was no way you could erase all of the posts. 

on the outside, you looked composed, like it didn’t effect you at all. but nick knew you well, he knew you had a million thoughts in your head at that point. 

you were just a second close to getting into a panic attack. “hey, hey. calm down, everything’s good.” nick coos in your ear as he pulls you close to him. he knew that you hated to be left alone when you panic. 

you hated this feeling. it felt so unnecessary and it felt like you were making matters bigger than it actually is. 

but the boys would tell you otherwise, they’d make sure that thought leaves your head as soon as it reached.

your body being rocked back and forth helped you calm down as you slowly start to forget the reason of your panic in the first place. 

-

when you do come back to stream regularly, you tried to play off like nothing had happened, like it was all a dream. 

that is one bad habit you couldn’t get rid of for some reason. you liked to just run away from your problems, big or small. you would often play it off like it didn’t matter to you, eventhough it is very much the opposite. 

you’re just scared of getting hurt. you didn’t want to hear the rejection, you could never brace yourself for that kind of pain. 

but somehow this was different. you braced yourself. you didn’t know what drove you to it, but you did. maybe it was the small signs your friends showed you that you never noticed. it was like you knew that rejection was bound to happen, and that this one would hurt the most. 

you told yourself that you would never let yourself get hurt over someone, especially males. it just never made sense. they were never really worth your time, anyways. 

although personally you’ve never ended a relationship of yours badly, just maturely, you’ve read and heard how painful relationships can be. and you never understood why people kept going back into relationships when they hurt so much. 

but you get it. he’s simply addicting. you felt like you couldn’t distance yourself from him. but you needed to. and you knew that. all your friends told you that. 

you weren’t going to let some man put you down because of what you look like. 

granted, it hurt at first, but you learnt to heal, you learnt that although he probably isn’t going to be the only man who hurts you, you needed to suck it up and not show him the pain you felt. you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

to summarise it all. quackity finally beat around the bush and came out with a statement on his own on his stream. 

content creators or public figures often learn that they need to leave things for private, that they can’t spill everything out for people to hear. that causes drama. 

but he didn’t stand back at all. everything he thought about you was shared on stream for all his viewers to know. maybe you liked him for his persona after all, not the real him. 

-

“talk about it?” quackity read his donation. 

“sure, i will.” he started. here it comes. 

nick told you that in order to heal and move past the pain quickly, you can’t run away from your problems, to face the current issue. so he made you watch quackity’s stream. 

you didn’t feel like shedding a single tear today because of how exhausted you are from crying for hours on end, but still agreed to your bestfriend’s wishes to sit through a long stream. 

to be honest, you weren’t expecting him to speak on it, given the amount of time he’s waited. it’s been a couple months since it happened so you could only imagine the shock of his viewers when he finally did say something. 

maybe the constant spam finally got to him.

“she’s not my type, chat.” he said. oh, that wasn’t so bad. no pain just yet. 

“she’s far from it.” okay that pinched you a little. were you really that bad. you waited for his explanation. 

“she looks so emo all the time, it’s scares me. does she ever not wear black?” ouch. and yes, yes you do.

“she’s just not what i like in women. i like soft girls who are respectful and know when to keep their mouth shut and definitely a little more conservative.” whoa. okay, maybe that hurt extra than the rest. 

you turned to nick, he had the same shocked look on his face, clearly not expecting to hear that come out of his good friend’s mouth, especially on stream. 

quackity doesn’t end there. he pulls out his phone, typing away. soon he pulled up a picture of you from your instagram account, showing his stream. 

“she looks like she barely graduated highschool. she’s not one with a future, chat. just stop shipping us. i don’t like that.” he finally finishes, locking his phone and putting it down, continuing playing his game from earlier. 

you closed your eyes for a while, trying to process it all. 

“are you going to cry?” your bestfriend says from next to you. you shook your head. 

“i’m furious.” you told him, voice soft but slightly menacing. 

“holy shit. i’ve been waiting for this.” nick says, jumping in his seat. you knew exactly what he meant. 

you aren’t the type to get mad. you only got mad jokingly. and as much as you look emo and depressed all the time, you’re practically a walking sunshine, you just don’t show it due to your resting bitch face. 

and although nick and you have been friends for god knows how long, it wasn’t often he saw you mad. and it excites him to see you enraged, to say the least. to him, you always ‘pop off’ when you’re mad. 

you made sure you cooled off slightly before you go off on the man. you didn’t want to do things you would regret, after all. but to you, you didn’t think you’d regret anything at this point. 

you waited a couple days before you tweeted something. 

it was simple, your tweet. just two photos. first, it was a photo of your acceptance letter to harvard law school from a year ago, followed by a photo of you carrying thick and heavy textbooks for school that was taken by nick when he visited you in campus. 

it was captioned, “not one with a future.” simple, but it was obvious that this was going to blow up. you looked up from your phone to nick before you tweeted it. 

you two shared a smile. a grin, if you will. it was like the two of you knew what that tweet would do. 

you knew this was going to be surprising to your followers, too. you’ve never spoken about going to school after highschool. sure, if they scrolled far enough on your channel and listened through everything, they might know you skipped grades, which was the reason you met nick but most of them didn’t know. and you didn’t blame them. 

what you would blame them for is that they sat and listened to everything quackity said in that stream. they all thought you were just one dumb, depressed girl who had no future. one that relied on a social media career. 

only if they knew how wrong they are. well, that didn’t matter now. they all knew. 

that was the only tweet you sent out regarding the matter. you didn’t want to prolong it, it isn’t worth your time.

when you did stream a couple days after you sent out that tweet, your twitch viewers sky-rocketed. it was weird, almost. but they weren’t there to patronise you. the opposite, really. they said sweet words, donated generous amounts and gifted plenty of subs. 

you would answer questions as donations slowly came in. and one in particular caught you eye.

“why aren’t you in school.” the monotoned woman asked. 

“i’m not currently in school because it is closed due to the pandemic. but i’m currently attending it online.” you answered swiftly, not really focused on the question but more to the parkour you were doing. 

from time to time, your eyes glanced at your chat to see if they said anything that caught your eye, apart from the ones that bashed you for liking their favourite content creator. 

it cracked you up to see how far stans would go to protect their favourite creators. granted, it made you feel a little envious seeing how many people unfollowed you when the drama happened. you wanted to know just who would stand with you, besides your actual friends. 

“what would you describe your style?” the monotonous woman spoke once again as a donation came in. 

“thank you for the 10.” you started, and then pausing to actually think about it before you answered. 

“i think my style is a little more dark but not emo, as most people call it. i also don’t dress conservative.” you finished, feeling good about your answer. 

you were not brought up in a conservative family, so that was shown in the way you dressed. no, you never really left the house in your bra and jeans, not saying that style isn’t cute, but you never stopped yourself from showing a little bit of skin. 

you also were not the type to get insecure, so reading through comments on your posts have never really affected you. but there was something about the comment quackity said that made you rethink about a lot of things. 

you hated that feeling, though. you hated that you let a man say things about you and made you feel apologetic about it. you knew it should never be like that. why did you let a man step all over you? it irked you that you stooped so low. 

things also never got easy after the little drama. sure, you gained a little more publicity, but you felt nauseous knowing what attracted them. you’re just now constantly reminded how you got a higher number of following. 

nonetheless, you’re grateful for the platform given to you, although this wasn’t the path you chose to take. 

it didn’t take you long to recover from the tiny insecurity you found yourself having. you started not caring even more, posting even more photos of you. some might say you grew to be a narcissist. 

but you enjoyed it. it showed people just how much you grew and learnt from what happened. 

you’re glad you moved forward from it and never dwelled on the things he said about you. 

also, did you mention that quackity apologised? 

guess not. 

Part 2

#quackity #quackity x reader #quackity imagines #quackity imagine #quackity fanfic #quackity fanfiction #quackityhq

[starkexposition]

The Bachelor: Tony Stark Edition

Forced myself against my will, at gunpoint, to update this. Here it finally is.

Chapter 2: Electric Boogaloo

Rating: Teen/Mature, it's from college!Peter Parker's perspective Pairings: Tony/Steve, Tony/Strange, Tony/literally everyone, Happy/May, Peter/MJ, Peter/Black Cat, many token ships eventually Summary: One man. Twelve contestants. Several weeks in paradise. All through the horrified eyes of one sticky, adopted son.

“Mr. Stark…”

Most people have normal dreams.

“Can you hear me?”

Nice ones.

“It’s Peter.”

Weird ones.

“Hey.”

Bad ones.

“We won.”

Ones you forget.

“Mr. Stark…”

Or in my case, ones you wish you’d forget.

“We won, Mr. Stark.”

They say when you dream about a person, it’s because they’re dreaming about you, too.

“We won—you did it, Mr. Stark. You did it.”

That never explained why I kept dreaming about him when he was gone.

“I’m sorry, Tony.”

It was never different. Never had a different ending—never even a nightmare. Just the same weak eyes followed by the same labored breaths, every single dream. And each time, the woman who believed in him most would sit with him, hand held to his heart, and promise to him that everything would be okay. And with that, the man who never sleeps would find the peace to finally rest.

There was nothing like it. I had already been through my fair share by then—whether it was the plane crash, or Uncle Ben, or the girl that I loved… Mr. Stark was different. There was no regret, or blame; it was only the mission. The worst part about it was struggling with the selfish feeling that something had been taken away from me, all while balancing the pride that I felt in what he did for the whole universe—and most importantly, for the family that was built around him.

To us, it was a sacrifice. To Iron Man, it was a responsibility.

I guess that must be the reason it kept replaying in my dreams. It didn’t need amending because of the good that it caused, but hell—it kept coming back like a nightmare.

Even after he came back, most sleeps would end the same way: with everyone around us taking a knee for him as the air grew quiet in his passing, Captain Rogers would rise to his feet, place a hand on my shoulder, and say through watered eyes and a weakened smile:

“It was all for you.”

And with Pepper’s blessing, Steve would step forward and pick Tony up from where he laid, carefully carrying him back as Pepper, Rhodey, and myself would slowly walk alongside them.

Some nights, if I got lucky, I’d wake up before Steve’s words.

But not last night.

My brain managed to string out every last excruciating detail of the dream it possibly could in an effort to stay asleep and ignore the sound of repulsors powering down to a low hum beside me. But as they hovered nearby, the stinky air of New York was blown through the ventilation of my suit, which, unfortunately, can be stinky enough to wake you when you become aware of it. A figure took the place of the city’s rising sun, casting a shadow that darkened the scene and gifted me with my daily post-dream reminder...

“You know if you prefer this for your room and board situation, I’d be happy to take up the bill.”

Tony Stark lives.

Which is great. Quality of life really did improve when he came back—for myself, and others, too. Being adopted by him, however, kind of spiced things up a bit. From mentor to parent meant that I was proving myself to him from a parental standpoint, and that consequently resulted in me becoming far more relaxed with him. ‘Cause he’s kind of stuck with me now, you know?

But even in times like this particular morning, when I had a curfew the night before and had to get back to the house upstate by a certain time and specifically did not do so in favor of fighting crime and flirting with a kleptomaniac in a leather suit, I still don’t think I couldn’t be grateful for that fact even when I am abruptly woken from my slumber on a rusty fire escape in New York by Iron Man.

There was always something about those slitted glowing eyes in the faceplate that managed to relay the disappointment behind it so well.

“How’d you find me?” I asked as I kicked my leg up onto the platform, letting my eyes settle on the ladders above.

“Same way I always find you—” Beep-beep, beep-beep! Karen pulled up a GPS screen in my lenses that pinpointed my location, with an additional flashing blip for where the Iron Man suit was just a few feet away. “Installed another tracking device in your suit.”

I pulled off my mask and sat up quickly. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he gestured to me, his tone dripping with annoyance. “I don’t have time to play hide-and-go-seek in the alleys and dumpsters of New York every time I need you.”

“I have a phone.”

“That you don’t answer.” Tony then tossed over my backpack that was webbed up on the dumpster below. “You know, you could be sleeping on a fire escape in Cambridge right now.”

“MIT doesn’t have MJ—” Oof. Too quick there, Pete. “Or-or Ned. Or May. Or… you?”

The face plate turned to stare at me with slitted eyes once again, Mr. Stark tilting his head. “I thought you broke up with MJ.”

Of course, he won’t ignore it.

“We broke up,” I corrected him, even though that was also technically wrong, but he definitely did not need to know that. “Besides, we’re fine. We’re friends.”

“When was the last time you spoke to her?”

“Last week,” I told him, pulling the mask over my face again.

Mr. Stark stayed silent, faceplate staring into my soul with those narrowed eyes as he waited for me.

“Okay, fine,” I sighed, swinging down from the escape, “a month ago.”

I shot a web to the wall of the building across from us, and like that, we were en route home.

“Ouch.” Naturally, Mr. Stark’s voice came in through the suit itself while he traveled closely behind me. “That bad, huh?”

“Not really,” I lied. “And I mean, we did try the whole friend thing. That’s not gone. It’s just that… well, sometimes when you break up, it makes it a lot harder to stay broken up when you try to be friends right away, you know?”

“So…” He paused for a moment, as we turned a corner to Avengers Mansion. “You’re not friends?”

I landed on the walkway and pushed my way inside. “I stressed her out too much. I’m just giving her space.”

Mr. Stark’s suit was entirely gone by the time he followed me into the kitchen of the mansion. Making a beeline to the coffee, he raised an eyebrow at me as he pulled the pot and two mugs for the both of us, fixing mine up with sugar before he poured. “That must be easy for you at least.”

“Never said it was.” I informed him as I rummaged around the refrigerator for something, anything with sustenance… Bingo. Pizza. The only consistency that truly exists within the Avengers is the ability to almost always find leftover pizza in the fridge. “But is that stuff ever really easy?”

“Well…” Tony’s voice raised suggestively as he circled around the counter and took a sip of his coffee. “It sure seems like it is now that you’ve got yourself a feline to keep you company.”

I came to a halt, cold pizza at my lips. “Seriously? I’m not talking about this with you.”

Tony cackled, sipping his coffee as he slipped from the kitchen to the elevator, finger pressed on the ‘open door’ button as he waited for me to gather my pizza and coffee to join him. Moments later, we were entering his workshop, which was remarkably as cluttered as I had seen it last. He walked through slowly, moving papers and hardware around to organize the place and put away his projects reluctantly, and each time he seemed lost in thought, staring at some weird looking, half-dismantled device, he would take a sip from his coffee before making his decision on what to do with whatever it was he was holding.

“All packed?” He asked as he pulled the mug from his lips, tossing something into the trash.

I gripped the mask in my hands and turned away from him to face one of the blueprints on the wall, pretending to read it. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

“Good,” he said. He stopped at the door to his office and looked at me with expectant eyes. “Well? Get dressed so we can go home.”

Before I could even turn away, the door to his office was shut behind him, the blue glow of his holograms flashing through the opaque glass of his office doors and windows. Whatever it was he was working on must not have required too much attention, as he was waiting impatiently for me by his car in the mansion’s garage only a few minutes later, toes tapping the ground while he leaned against the hideously orange supercar.

“Really?” I asked. “This one again?”

His eyes perked up over the rim of his glasses, eyebrows shooting up in offense. “Would you rather walk?”

I shook my head and walked over to the passengers side with Mr. Stark moving out of the way to the driver’s door. “I just think—” I got in, stuffing my bag by my feet, “—you could spice it up sometime. Maybe you could go red next. Or a matte black… now, that’d be nice. All electric, so smooth. Stealthy. It’d be great.”

Tony sat beside me, buckling his belt as he looked at me in disbelief again, “I’m sorry, can you even drive?”

I stared at him and waited for him to realize, but he just stared back. “I’m 19,” I reminded him.

“And?” He said as he started the car and drove closer to the garage door, allowing it to open automatically at his approach. “You never drive anywhere.”

His gaze looked past me then, encouraging mine to follow, and we both looked at the gray Audi that sat on the far right end of the mansion’s garage collecting dust. I looked back at Tony, ready to defend myself and my apparent preference for swinging as my primary mode of travel, but he just grinned and floored it, pulling us away from the mansion, the city, and to upstate New York.

* * *

Saturday nights at the Stark Residence meant one thing: family dinner. It wasn’t required, obviously, since most weekends I couldn’t make it home, and even if I could, I usually chose to not to, as I was 19, in college, had homework, Ned, and was constantly in an internalized battle of wanting to win my ex-girlfriend back and my unexplained desire to spend an unusual amount of time around one of my more recent torments in life:

Felicia Hardy.

And if I’m honest, I’ve probably spent more of my Saturday nights playing cat and mouse with Felicia than I have been doing homework or playing games with Ned. Only thing is, lately it has seemed more like she’s the cat and I’m the mouse—appropriate, since she is the Black Cat and all—despite that I have almost always been in pursuit of her. But my naivety always manages to lead me into falling for her traps and doing whatever it might be that she had planned for me—which, of course, almost always results in me failing to “catch” her.

What a shame.

Of course, that does exclude all of those nights where I did catch up to her. On the rooftops, quips and riddles, jabs and flirts, and the few times I got lucky enough for her to lift my mask up just enough to leave a…

How did I get started on Felicia again?

Right. Family dinners. Instead of seeing her. Just a prelude to the next few months. Did I even remember to say goodbye?

Sigh.

Anyway. Family dinners.

The only night of the week we managed to get (mostly) everyone together. Between Stark Industries and some Avengers work for Tony (remotely, of course, since the man really can’t help himself), Morgan in school and clubs, the vast Morgan Babysitting Unit (Rhodey, Maria Hill, Aunt May, and Happy mostly) trading off the rascal throughout the week, and of course, whatever Happy and May got up to in their free time (don’t remind me), Saturdays were usually the one time in the week that everyone tried their best to set aside for visiting with each other. You know, for Tony’s sake. While the ladies, including Tony’s new personal assistant, Charlotte, would split a bottle of wine as Happy and May cooked the meal together—Italiano, as they introduced it this particular time—the rest would buzz around the house, catching up on the week’s events and sharing laughs like a normal family would.

Normal.

Of course, with it being my first time home for dinner in a few months, most of the attention was on me during the meal—as Mr. Stark cleverly directed it to be, in an effort to avoid talking about the obvious circus that was set to begin the following day—with Rhodey and Maria mainly prying at me for school and hero related questions, but they were sure to cover every topic in the book, like the one I was hoping to avoid.

Girls.

Or, more specifically, MJ.

It took me going from my typical sarcasm to getting quiet and frustrated when the questions persisted for the conversation to finally fizzle out, bringing our dinner party to an end. Rhodey stood up from his seat beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing it in understanding, as he grabbed his plate to leave. Everyone, apart from myself and May, began to disperse with him, heading to the kitchen with their empty plates.

I lifted a rogue spaghetti noodle above my face and caught it in my mouth between my tongue and teeth as Aunt May poured herself another glass of wine. She looked up at me as I practically inhaled the noodle, eyes slimming into an unamused look as she stared at me over the rim of her glass.

“This is our last dinner together for a while and you’re not even gonna use your manners?” She tilted her head, hair sliding down from her shoulder.

I made a face and shook my head, reaching for the spoon in the pan. “Not when it’s spaghetti night,” I shrugged in refusal, dumping a small second serving on my plate.

May eventually followed in suit, her eyes nervously checking up on me again and again. With a breath and returned eye contact, I braced myself for the inevitable questions—

“You’re all packed?”

“Yes.”

“Have your passport?”

“Yes.”

Her face fell and she leaned forward, brows furrowing in worry. “… Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Of course not,” I said. “It was my idea to begin with.”

She lowered her voice. “I mean for Tony.”

“Well, why not?”

Aunt May stared at me for a couple seconds, noodles sliding off her fork back onto the plate. “I don’t know, he just… you know, this is a lot of publicity for someone who, you know… was dead—”

“—in a coma—”

“—less than a year ago,” May let out a sigh, her shoulders sinking. “Do you have to get technical with me?”

I set my fork down and sat back in my seat, biting my lip in frustration. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“Tony’s been back for, what? Seven months?” She crossed her arms.

“Publicly, yes, and it’s not like he really kept it much of a secret before that, anyway,” I said, crossing my arms back. “He’s been alive for almost two years. A lot can happen in two years. A person can grow.”

She let out another sigh of concern. “And you don’t think all of this is too much for him?”

“He’s two years old. Of course not,” I said, dropping another noodle into my mouth. “I was ready for that kind of attention when I was his age.”

“Peter…”

“Wasn’t I?”

“Peter.”

“Listen,” I sighed, “he agreed to it at his own risk. Besides, no matter what he does, publicity will follow. He knew this ahead of time. That’s why he waited until his rehab was over—he wanted to be ready. And if he says he’s ready…”

Her eyes looked over her glasses’ frames at me. “We both know he’s not ready.”

“You know, this might actually be good for him,” I offered. “A good way for him to kinda get back in it, you know? It’s like a nice, long vacation with a bunch of pretty people gawking over him. I honestly don’t see the problem with it.”

“A bunch of pretty people trying to use him for his money, maybe,” she started picking at her food again.

“That’s the life he always used to live, May. Which is why I think it could be good for him. Might teach him to have fun again—you know, center him,” I sat up in my chair again, picking up my fork and stuffing my face with more noodles. “Plus,” I said through chewing, “it’s good promotion.”

“Promotion for what?”

“I don’t know, really,” I swallowed my food at her look of distaste. “Something to do with clean something something. Something for the planet. Or something. He was talking about it with those fancy people from the network out at dinner the other night.”

“And you didn’t listen?”

I wound up more pasta and took another bite. “No, why would I?”

Aunt May stopped her movements and stared at me for a moment before continuing to scoop up the noodles. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you’re gonna need for the trip?”

“Positive,” I smiled.

“Alright,” she let out a sigh, “if you say so.”

I smirked a bit, and took another bite full. “Are you sure you’re gonna make it that long without me?”

She took a small piece of a noodle from her plate and chucked it at me. “Zip it, you. I’ll be fine.”

I peeled the noodle from my cheek and looked at it. “Man, Aunt May… Nice aim—” And with that, I launched the noodle back at her.

By the time Morgan and I had finished clean up duty, with me washing the dishes and her wiping down the table with a cloth I gave her, the adults had migrated to the lounge with another bottle of wine, loud chatter and laughter filling up the air around them. Tony was off with Charlotte, going over a checklist with her to ensure that he had everything he needed for the trip before our departure in the morning. I stopped Morgan before she headed upstairs, holding a finger to my lip to keep her quiet as I pulled the freezer door open for her, and before we knew it, we were sneaking upstairs to our rooms with a popsicle in Morgan’s hand and snacks in my own.

The crinkling noise a bag of potato chips makes as you open it is one of the most satisfying noises in the world. Especially in the safety of your own home—unabashedly opening up a new bag without holding back to muffle any sounds. Just that sweet, sweet tearing noise as the smell of greased up, salty potatoes fills your nostrils and momentarily takes the place of that super sweet tub of Ben & Jerry’s beside you. One plus about upgrading to a king sized bed is finally having the room to keep your food beside you as you lie there—it’s a great way to be lonely without entirely feeling lonely. For the most part. Except when you remember that you’re eating an whole pint of ice cream entirely by yourself, because that’s when it starts to hit you that you’re actually, seriously doing this and you really shouldn’t be—

“Really, Pete?”

I looked up from my snacks as I pulled out an earbud, my eyes meeting the unamused eyes of my father. “What?” I asked.

He closed the door behind himself as he walked closer, crossing his arms. “We just picked those up for the flight tomorrow and you’re already eating them?”

“I was hungry,” I told him before grabbing another chip.

“You’re supposed to be getting everything ready,” he grumbled.

“I am,” I said, pointing the chip towards the half-zipped suitcase on the floor, with shirt sleeves and socks and pants sticking out the sides… Well. I tried. “Over there.”

His gaze followed my potato chip to the suitcase and he walked over to it, opening it up to see the jumbled mess of clothes that I neatly tossed into the suitcase from my closet—which, mind you, was already half packed from the last field trip we took in school a month ago. Clever, I know. I mean, half of the clothes were dirty anyway, and a lot of them I just grabbed from my floor… so really, most of them were at least a smidgen dirty. Probably, like, 90% of them were dirty. But none of that really mattered, you see, because we are staying in an actual house while we’re there, and real houses always have washers and dryers, right?

Right?

That didn’t quite matter any longer either, as my father’s eyes fell into that absolutely terrifying “disappointed” look that I was unfortunately seeing a lot of as of late. But just as he went to close it, his eyes widened at the sight of something else and he knelt down to tug on a piece of cloth.

A red piece of cloth. And blue. And black. That turned out to be more than just a piece of cloth. And that was suddenly being dangled in my face for a split second before it was folded over my father’s arm.

“No suit,” his stern voice rang through the room as he turned back towards the door.

My eyes widened as I jumped from my bed, almost knocking over my ice cream, and I followed him out. “What do you mean ‘no suit’? I can’t just go away for that long without it—”

He opened the door, looking back at me. “And is that seriously how you’re taking care of this thing?” He pushed through, lifting the suit to his nose. “God, Pete, it smells…”

“Dad,” I pleaded, “I can’t leave without it.”

“Seriously. When’s the last time you sent Hap to get this thing dry-cleaned?” He turned back to look in my room, pointing at the suitcase as the door swung shut. “By the way, pal, one half-assed packing job isn’t gonna cut it. We’ll be gone the whole summer. Pack accordingly.”

I stopped in the hall as he continued up it with the suit still slung around his arm. “Dad, please,” I begged.

He began walking backwards, a smirk plastered to his lips. “No can do, kiddo,” he said. “You’re not supposed to work while you’re on vacation.”

And with that, he was gone, spending the rest of his evening with the usual entourage before they headed out to Happy’s place for the night.

I didn’t notice myself falling asleep. I wasn’t planning on it either—I don’t think I ever even rested my head for a second. But there I was; it was one o’clock, N64 fan roaring, half-eaten pint of ice cream melting accompanied by an opened bag of potato chips, and I had fallen asleep, controller still in hand. I peeled myself out of bed slowly, grabbing the snacks and heading downstairs to put them away in their respective places. As I was sealing away the tub of ice cream in the freezer, I noticed the door to the workshop downstairs slightly propped open, a faint glow coming from it and the distant voice of FRIDAY.

Curiosity killed the cat, right? Wish me luck.

Ever-so-thankful for my powers, I creaked the door open quietly and jumped up to the ceiling, slowly crawling down the spiral staircase until I finally reached the workshop. Everything was dark and put away apart from the desk, where Tony sat in his rolling chair, staring up at the blue holograms projected around him.

As though his breath had been hitched in his lungs for a long while, Tony let out a sharp sigh as he let go of his frozen stature, leaning forward in his seat. “Alright FRIDAY,” he pulled a pen from his desk and started scribbling on a piece of paper, “run the scans.”

“Certainly, boss,” FRIDAY said, and the holograms began pulling up hundreds, thousands—hell, even millions of files of footage. “Scanning all known devices now.”

Tony sat back in his seat again, jaw clenched in fear as hopeful eyes watched the projections around him. A sigh escaped his lips as he watched FRIDAY sort through the files, hurt filling the contortions of his face and… That’s when I noticed him.

How had I missed him?

“Come on,” Tony prayed, his eyes daring to well up into tears. “Come on, Cap.”

As files were sorted, discarded or scanned again and again, the screen running through images and clips so fast it hardly even flashed with the changes, the files were compared to an image presented to the right of them, none of them matching up with with the familiar head of blond hair that was almost damn near waiting for a match.

Years later, and Tony Stark was still searching for Steve Rogers.

I guess it sort of came as a surprise to me. He didn’t talk about Cap very often. If he did, it was usually short lived—it was never really something he chose to dwell on. And anytime someone tried to bring him up, he never spoke of their time together like it had the weight that I knew it did—like they were just some old buddies back in the day, and that was it. With everything going on in his life, I guess I just assumed he was a bit forced to move on from it.

Then again, when Tony came back—which, mind you, will forever be the most shocking moment of my entire life—one of the first things he asked about was Steve. Just to know if where he was… if he was okay. I was the one who told him he was gone, that he had brought the stones home, and was never to return.

He gave me a small nod when I told him, eyes drifting away from me, as he forced out a quiet, “okay, then.”

And that was it. That was all he ever asked about him. After he quickly regained his composure, Pepper ushered him away to get him some nourishment until they both finally decided it was time to wake Morgan up to see him again after seven long months apart.

I always wondered if Captain Rogers would have stayed if he knew Tony was coming back.

I guess that was part of the tragedy, wasn’t it? How could anyone have known that by some miracle he would come back? I hadn’t, Pepper hadn’t, nor did Rhodey, or Morgan, or Happy. There was no way Captain Rogers would have predicted that, either. He, like the rest of us, altered his life accordingly.

But if he got the chance to see what I was seeing, would he come back?

“I’m sorry, boss,” FRIDAY said solemnly. “The scans were unsuccessful.”

I suppose we’d never know.

Tony sat still, defeat stealing whatever energy he had left in him, as he tried desperately to understand the holograms before him. He stared for what felt like ages, breathing through the frown on his lips, swallowing back his guts here and there whenever he needed it. Finally, his eyelashes fluttered as he looked away from what was before him, energy joining him once again to neaten his paperwork. “Well, then,” he forced out, “let’s wrap it up for a while, shall we?”

He stood from his desk, picking up a mug of cold coffee and bringing it to his lips as he turned and started walking away, papers still in hand. He walked to a cabinet, dropping the papers into a file as he slowly lowered the mug, swallowing back his thoughts with his coffee.

“Would you like me to keep an open scan going while you’re gone?” FRIDAY inquired.

Tony’s eyes broke from wherever they had drifted, running in my direction on their way to look at the hologram—

Uh oh.

I managed to scurry back right as his head stopped its movement, hiding out of sight before his eyes flickered back over in my direction.

“Yeah,” he agreed. Footsteps. “Let me know if you find anything on your radar.”

Goose bumps. Skin tingling. Danger. Danger. Danger. I don’t think I’ve ever crawled on a ceiling faster than I did, barely making it to the door in time to leave it cracked where it was before he noticed it. It was faster to go out through the porch and up through my window than it was to run through that maze of a house, and I still only made it just in time to get under the covers before my father cracked open my door to check if I was sleeping. The pixelated N64 screen and controller by my hand was seemingly convincing enough, as he turned out the rest of my lights and left me to sleep.

* * *

To be honest, I wasn’t the most excited person when I realized that being adopted by Tony Stark also meant moving off to some cabin in the deep woods of upstate New York. The whole farm life thing never exactly appealed to me the way it did others, I guess. I was perfectly fine with living just a block away from my favorite hoagie joint, a couple blocks down from my best friend, the same part of town as the girl I sorely wanted back, and you know, the same city as the college that I attended daily. The drives back and forth from campus whenever I actually did make my way home only started to get better when I was actually doing them on my own, but they were still painfully long when Ned wasn’t able to join me for a weekend. And when your only entertainment for an entire weekend (or even week) is a six-year-old who is particularly obsessed with outsmarting you, Happy Hogan, and a video game that you somehow manage to fall asleep to while playing pretty much every night as of late, life can get pretty lonely up in the boonies.

Still, there was something to be said about waking up surrounded by nature instead of the city.

You’d be surprised as to just how calming it is for the morning sun’s glow to slowly enter your room, birds chirping in the trees outside your windows, wind chimes twinkling as a soothing voice peacefully rings throughout the four walls of your room…

“Everybody was kung fu fighting—” I don’t think I could have slapped my alarm any faster.

I attempted at covering my head with a pillow to block out the light, but the disturbance of voices downstairs disrupted my Sunday morning a bit early again—although this time, the voices seemed to amount to more of a crowd.

Great.

“Peter, your father will be arriving at your door in fifteen seconds,” Karen warned, lights brightening in my room as I hopped from my bed, placing in my earbuds. Like clockwork, the door creaked open as I paced my room in an effort to make myself seem busy.

“Pete.”

I pulled an earbud from my ear and glanced up at my father before heading to my closet. “You know, you should try knocking sometime.”

Mr. Stark trailed into my room behind me nonchalantly, looking around at the mess spread across the room as he picked up notebooks from my bed and placed them on my desk. “You say that like your alarm didn’t go off two minutes ago.”

“So?” I picked up the notebooks and moved them to my pile of schoolwork. “You never know—I could have been changing.”

He stopped in his tracks, his gaze tracing up to mine with a single eyebrow cocked up in disbelief. “Really?”

“What?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but pajamas before two on a weekend.” He forced back a smile. “Besides, my point stands, you weren’t doing anything embarrassing. Which, by the way—”

“—that’s not my point—”

“—what exactly was it that you were doing?” He turned on his heel, looking around my room. “And what is that smell? Garbage? Gym clothes? Dirty sheets?”

“Dad.”

“When’s the last time you changed your sheets?”

“Dad.”

“Can we get some windows open in here?”

“Of course,” Karen complied, the panel windows rotating open on command, the sound of the leaves following the breeze that filled the room.

“Much better,” he exhaled.

I collapsed on my bed again, then, placing the earbud back in my ear. “Do you always have to act like something died in here when you enter my room completely uninvited?”

“I’m saving your skin, you know. May is downstairs and if she smelled whatever’s going on in here, you’d have a much bigger problem on your hands.”

I jolted up in horror. “May? What is May still doing here—”

“I invited her,” he stated simply. “For Happy’s sake. Surprise.”

I scowled. “Don’t encourage them.”

“Which reminds me, where are your bags?”

“Bags?” My eyes then drifted to the very same suitcase from the night prior, just as untouched, half-full, and dirty as it was the last time my father told me to work on packing it.

My father followed my sight and immediately let out a sigh, his back to me, and I just knew the face that he was about to hit me with before he even managed to turn around. And then he did.

Here we go.

The look of unsurprised disbelief with a flavor of sheer, utter annoyance as his eyes rolled up to the ceiling.

Personally, this was my favorite look of disappointment from him. His “shocked” face that I always seem to get whenever I prove time and time again that he really should stop having any sort of faith in me being able to do anything that is not Avenger, homework, or video game. I mean, it’s only fair. To the both of us, really.

He finished his eye roll, those disappointed eyes falling to mine before he finally headed to the door. “Get dressed and be down in five. Say hi to the crew quickly and then please finish packing. We can’t be late for this.”

“We’re leaving today?”

“Seriously?” He was out the door in seconds, calling back, “How on earth are you more like me than I am like me these days?”

I jumped from my bed and grabbed a t-shirt that was folded on the top of my dresser, pulling it over my head as followed Mr. Stark down the hall, door clicking shut behind me. “How long until we leave?” I asked, catching up to him on the stairs.

“Around an hour.” He muttered, head tilting towards mine. “You definitely did not get dressed that quickly.”

“I’m not going in there alone,” I told him.

He halted about half-way down, looking me up and down in my sweatpants and Midtown gym shirt. His lips flattened into a line, the look of annoyance returning to his face. He then unbuttoned his suit jacket, turned, and shrugged. “Fine.” And as we finished our trek down the stairs, he expanded his arms grandly, cleared his throat, and projected an embarrassingly loud, “Everyone—Peter has finally decided to join us!”

Every pair of eyes in the room fell to mine.

… I brought this upon myself.

It was barely seconds before the only person from ABC that I actually recognized managed to catch my attention—and yes, there was, once again, a gray hair sitting intrusively on the blazer.

“Peter!” She exclaimed, peeling her way through the group to shake my hand. “Are you excited for the next few months?”

“Sure,” I offered, my eyes drifting from hers in search of Aunt May. I looked back at her, squinting a bit as I studied her face. “I’m sorry, I’m forgetting your name.”

“Nellie Freeman,” she reminded me. “I’m one of the producers for The Bachelor.”

“Uh huh,” I nodded my head. The whole bullshitting portion of this thing was already wearing on me, and I was only about… a sentence and a half into it. And it was obvious, as a rather awkward look of concern started to form on her face. “Look, I’m going to be honest with you, Ms. Freeman,” I sighed, slouching a bit. “I just rolled out of bed. I really just came down here for food before I get ready to leave.”

Nellie nodded then, stepping aside. “You should probably focus on that, Peter. And please, call me Nellie.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll find the chance to talk later, alright?” She said, clutching her mimosa close to her hair-intruding blazer.

I nodded, turning to make my way to the kitchen. “Okay, Ms. Freeman.”

And with that, I was free, and doing one of my favorite past times: rummaging the refrigerator for food. And as I rolled out each and every tray, drawer, compartment, searching high and low for just a little bit of cream cheese, I felt a very gentle tug at the hem of my shirt. I paused, raising my eyebrows to look down at the very soft, yet expectant face of a six-year-old, a small smile playing at her lips.

“Hi,” she said.

“Good Morgan,” I greeted her, stifling a laugh as she let out her usual giggle. “Staying out of trouble so far?”

“I need your help,” she said. She then waved for me to get close, so I did, crouching down and offering my ear to her. She cupped her hands, leaning close to whisper. “Can I have some of your root beer?” She asked, pulling back with an innocent look on her face.

“Maguna,” I sighed, turning towards her totally. “You do realize it’s still morning, right?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“And that our father is right on the other side of that wall?”

She nodded again. “Yes.”

I raised my eyebrows again, pointing in the direction of our living room. “And that if he catches me giving you root beer at seven in the morning without asking his permission, he’ll get very mad at me?”

“Yes,” she said, this time with a single, big nod.

“I don’t know, kiddo,” I told her, standing up and pulling a bottle of root beer from the fridge, “not sure if it’s worth the punishment.”

She tapped my arm this time, tugging at my shirt afterwards. “Please?”

“Hmm,” I looked between my sister and the bottle of root beer in my hands. “Are you ready to leave yet?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” I set the bottle on the counter, along with the bagels and cream cheese, closing the fridge and crouching back down to meet her height. “Go on up to my room, then. I’ll bring some up to you when I finish getting my breakfast and you can play Mario Kart while I pack.”

And for the last hour that we spent in our home for the time being, my sister and I kept sanctuary up in my room, with Morgan sprawled out on my bed, trying to make sense of an N64 controller as I coached her on how to take out Bowser as revenge for his ruthless attack on her Luigi. My bags were carelessly tossed together in a matter of minutes, suit staying tucked away underneath heaps of clothes, and my Playstation carefully wrapped (and hidden) in clothes in my second suitcase, zipped away until further notice. I had bravely ventured downstairs to grab the next round of root beers, and the two of us were able to stay far away from any parental units paroling the household for the remainder of the hour—shocking, since Morgan’s got quite the big mouth when it comes to video games.

Packing the vans for our departure to the airport wasn’t chaotic until the rest of the black-blazer-with-a-stray-strand-of-gray-hair-obtrusively-standing-out-and-distracting-me-once-again people from ABC arrived. It went from packing up the car for a nice family vacation to me pretty much being sent up to my room to pack yet another whole bag with all of the items on their list of things that I had to bring for my “wardrobe” that I didn’t know were “required” for my nice, lovely, family vacation. And then came the labeling of each and every bag—which, of course, followed their security check of each and every bag.

That’s right. They brought security for us.

I know.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure the ridiculousness of checking Iron Man for safety threats was the tipping point of my sanity, so by about eight o’clock, I was lying in the middle of the driveway and tossing a rock up into the cloudy sky. At some point, Mr. Stark’s hand suddenly reached out and caught it and he looked down at me with a tired smile.

“You ready?”

I raised my eyebrows and caught the rock as my father dropped it. “Did my background check already make it in?”

“Funny,” he rolled his eyes as he reached down to grab my hand, pulling me up. “You should be praying that they don’t find it.”

“What do you mean?” I laughed, picking my backpack up from the curb as I followed him up the driveway to the big, black, spy-like SUVs. “Peter Parker is as threatening as Happy when he falls asleep on the couch after Thanksgiving dinner.”

His hand rested on my back as he guided me to an open door in one of the SUVs. “Have you read your high school disciplinary record?”

“No. That’s your job,” I grinned at him as I climbed in and slid to the end, grabbing the buckle.

“Yeah,” Mr. Stark’s eyes widened at the thought as he got in his seat beside me. “And your poor Aunt May’s.”

“Well, she knows about the whole… you know… Spidey thing, now, so it’s fine,” I said, shrugging. “I’m sure it explains a lot.”

Happy’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Yeah,” he grumbled. “Wait until you can’t use that excuse this summer.”

My jaw fell only slightly as I let out a chuckle. “No, no—not an excuse. I won’t need it, anyway. No suit, no hero antics, no need for doing anything absolutely stupid.”

Happy’s eyes looked up again in the mirror as he stopped at the end of our driveway. “The suit isn’t what causes you to be stupid.”

And with another small, Pikachu gasp escaping my lips and laughter bellowing from Aunt May and the man beside me, the window rolled up slowly, separating him and May from myself, Morgan, and our dad for the rest of the ride to the city.

The car ride inbound was far more easy-going than the last long one we had heading outbound, on our way home from my grand, very belated ‘adoption party’, where this whole Bachelor thingy began. I was silent, overwhelmed, sort of regretting the amount of root beer that I had consumed.

I think, like, five glasses, maybe? Full glasses, too. Like the big ones, not the little scotch glasses. All five, sitting in my stomach over every pothole and rock we ran over.

“Come to think of it, Pete, I didn’t really see you much tonight. Was it the nerves? Too many people?”

I nodded assuringly. “Too many people. Definitely.”

He eyed me in suspicion and then let out a sigh. “Listen, Pete. Don’t let this whole… moving into a multi-billionaire’s million dollar lakeside New York mansion thing scare you into thinking you have to respect me any better.”

“I think,” I narrowed my eyes as I stared at him in confusion, “I think just saying that… does?”

“What I’m trying to say is now that I’m officially your father and you’re officially my son, that weird, politeness type of respect isn’t necessary anymore,” he went on, looking forward at the street as Happy drove their car back to their home. “If anything, you should respect me less.”

“I feel like this is a test,” I told him.

“It is and it isn’t,” he grinned to himself. “Just be a normal kid, alright? No more Mr. Starks, no more asking permission for every single little thing. Just ask permission sometimes, when it’s necessary. And don’t call me ‘dad’ while wearing your suit. That’s when you call me ‘Mr. Stark’. Got it?”

And that was it. I’ll be honest, the whole transition from “Mr. Stark” to “Dad” hasn’t exactly been easy, but I think I’ve got it down.

For the most part.

Happy took a sharp turn then, breaking my thoughts as we went off of our course to the airport. “Sorry,” he shouted from the front seat.

“Mr. Stark…?” I muttered, staring out the windows in confusion. I looked at him and he raised an eyebrow expectantly. I realized my mistake but refused to correct it, staring back at him with my own eyebrows raised expectantly as the SUV pulled to a stop in front of the mansion, film crews piling out of one of the vans ahead. “What’s going on?”

“Showtime—” was all he said, before jumping out of the vehicle and heading over to the makeup artists, who, of course, swarmed him.

It was going to be a long summer. And it was only April.

The beauty of college was that the summer typically began in May, anyway, and with some teeth-pulling trips home away from the hyperactive, crime-filled city, I was able to set aside blocks of time to get my work done early in an effort to finish my semester earlier than most. I must say—midterms and finals all within two weeks of each other were not exactly the highlight of my college career so far, but finishing the semester by the start of April in exchange for an extended summer was pretty worth it.

Apart from the makeup brushes that were suddenly advancing on my face.

“Wait—” I held up my hands in defense, waving the brushes away. “No, no—not me, not my thing. I’m fine with—you know,” I gestured toward my face, “this.”

“It’s for lighting,” one of the artists argued.

“And that,” I said, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, “is what editing is for. Tell Ms. Freeman I said that.”

Like clockwork, Nellie Freeman ran towards me, calling my name. “Peter!” She said, excitedly, “Go on over to your father. Share a laugh with him.”

Share a laugh?

I was guided over to where he was and before I knew it, cameras were pointed at us in all directions as Mr. Stark put an arm around me and looked at me to chat, pointing to me. “Are you ready?” He asked, charming smile flashing on his face.

“No,” I said, forcing a smile, trying hard not to look at the camera. “How long do I have to do this?”

“Entire summer,” his smile grew proud.

My face fell.

“Remember, this was all your idea,” he let out a laugh then, and it was apparently enough to satisfy the cameras.

Worst moment of my life.

So far.

As a small part of the crew followed me around the front of the mansion—which, I had inferred was for their introduction to the show, as they were filming numerous angles of the mansion itself, as well as our family by the gates out front, and even a small moment of Tony driving out of the garage in yet another hideously orange supercar—the sound of a small explosion a couple blocks over rumbled through the streets. Myself and the camera people with me, who happened to be closest to the noise, all turned in fear as cop cars zipped up the street towards whatever it was.

My heart pounded a bit as the adrenaline came through my body with my senses and I looked at the crew urgently, “You should probably go distract Iron Man before you lose camera time with him.”

They took my advice.

Barely a minute later, I was in my suit, swinging through the streets of New York City.

Standard bank robbery: getaway car at the corner of the block waiting in drive, hold up in the lobby of the bank, gunmen standing guard outside, and my favorite—two pyromaniacs blowing a hole in the alleyway wall to gain outside access to the vault.

Minutes later, the vault guys were webbed to the brick walls of the alley, the gunmen were knocked out and webbed up, the two guys holding up inside were webbed together in a nice, snug hug, and the getaway car was stopped mid movement by me mere seconds after I had webbed up its passengers to street lights in their escape.

A standard day in New York City for Spider-Man.

Man, I was going to miss it. Genuinely. It was a hobby as much as it was a passion and a responsibility. It had its perks, of course, but swinging through the city, stopping to fight whatever crime was impending, and then getting back into the air moments later just to return to whatever I was doing, or like in many cases, to the backpack I webbed up to a dumpster in an alleyway a block away from the mansion. I undressed from my suit as quickly as possible and got back in the clothes I was wearing before, stuffing the suit into my backpack—

Spider sense. Spider sense. Behind you, Peter—Peter. Peter. Peter.

I turned quickly to see an old bearded man standing at the end of the alleyway by the sidewalk, staring at me as I stuffed the spider suit into my backpack.

I felt my cheeks burning red as the man just watched. “It’s not what it looks like, I promise,” I smiled nervously. “I just found it in the dumpster. It’s probably—it’s probably not even real.”

The old man let out a chuckle, approaching me slowly. “It’s okay, Peter,” he said with a smile. “You don’t need to worry.”

I froze in that moment, movements halted as I registered the voice and the way it said my name—yes. My name.

My name?

“How did you…” I trailed off as the main presented a large pouch to me, reluctantly taking it from him. I stared at the pouch and then up to those old, tired, glistening eyes. “Are you one of the wizards?”

“No,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “You might wanna grab a lab kit for that before you leave, by the way.”

And that was how my Breaking Bad career took off.

Kidding. Sort of. Hopefully. All that was in the bag from what I could tell was some old rusty gear and tech and a few pieces of paper to accompany the items. I looked up from the bag and back at the old man, who just watched with a pair of what seemed to be proud eyes.

I stared at him for a moment, trying to make sense of the familiarity in his eyes. “Who are you?”

The man’s face fell slightly for a moment and he placed a hand on my shoulder, dipping his head down a bit as he blinked slowly, lips curling into a smile once again. “You’ll see.”

The sound of repulsors taking off echoed through the streets, followed by the sound of flight, and both myself and the old man turned in its direction, looking up to the sky as Iron Man appeared over the rooftop.

He hovered there for a moment, silence dripping between us for a split second, before he finally let out a confused, “Pete?”

I widened my eyes. “I can explain,” I started, stepping towards him, “You see, I was helping this nice gentleman over here and—”

He flew passed me to where the man was, but as I turned around with him, the old man was gone.

Tony landed in his place, stepping towards the sidewalk slowly and looking around. “It doesn’t make sense…”

Okay, Peter. Time to be honest. I took a deep breath, “Well, to be honest, there was an explosion up the block, and it turned out to be a huge bank robbery, so I kind of had to step in and—”

“I said no suit.” He stated bluntly, but he was still distracted by our surroundings.

“I know. It’s just—it’s hard,” I confessed. “I’m sorry.”

Tony was silent in response; he was evidently listening to Friday as opposed to me, focusing in on whatever it was they were examining in the alleyway. Moments passed in silence, before he finally let out a sigh, “Alright, let’s go. We have a flight to catch.”

He lifted me from the ground, returning us to our group at the mansion a couple blocks over, cameras and all. The obligatory clips of the Iron Man suit removing itself from Tony that ABC insisted on filming bought me enough time to sneak into the mansion and snag one of the lab kits we had set aside for missions. I was able to slip it into the SUV by the time Tony finished with his numerous close-ups with the film crew.

The remainder of our morning once we actually arrived at the airport was just that. Cameras, interviews, weird filmed moments where we all chatted about absolutely nothing in an effort to seem like we were actually engaging in real conversations—then pause, break, and we were back to loading Mr. Stark’s private jets.

Yes. Jets. As in plural.

Because we weren’t going to fly with the ABC people, right? They had to be there waiting for us upon our arrival anyway.

Eyeroll.

It was only about eleven in the morning by the time we took off, but it felt like the day had been going on for hours already. The jet we were on, which was Mr. Stark’s newest of his hybrid engine class, had quarters for him, myself, and Morgan in the back, which were separated by the full bathrooms in between. It wasn’t long before I had passed out on my bed, the shades closing on the windows to leave me in a nice, quiet slumber…

“Pete, wake up,” My father’s voice called from the door to the cabin. I stirred a bit, covering my head with my pillow. “Shower quickly and get out here, we’re landing soon.”

Soon? Already? How long had I been asleep?

I sprung out of bed, heading to the bathrooms to shower in the circular full shower, washing up as fast as I could, before I dressed in some warm weather clothes and headed out to the cabin, natural sunlight blinding me a bit before I could see outside the windows at the…

Islands? Surrounded by turquoise… lagoons?

How long had I been asleep?

My father walked over to me, looking out the window alongside me with a grin on his face. “Welcome to Bora Bora, Peter.”

#the bachelor: tony stark edition #bachelor au #tony stark #peter parker #stevetony #stony #stony fic #stevetony fic #tony stark fic #endgame fix it #mine

[shikai-the-storyteller]

I absolutely didn’t go back through and edit this at all and hardly any of this is verbatim but I tried to take notes on some of what Mae Catt said during her stream if anyone is interested!

EDIT: Here’s a cleaner post with most of the Q&A.

She says she doesn’t want to yuck anybody’s yums re: ships. She seems Arcee and Grimlock more as friends, but she didn’t say they can’t be in a relationship

They fell in love with Perceptor so they wanted him on the “End of the World fighting the Quintessons” team

They had to dedicate a lot of effort into Dead End b/c it takes time to send in info for modeling a character and deciding on their alt mode

She was pitching Obsidian from Beast Machines really hard. She didn’t know what his personality would be it was just a “Look how cool he is!” sort of thing

Thought it’d be fun to have someone pessimistic like Dead End be on the team

“According to us, Drift did not make it, but I fully endorse whatever you want”

“The brand team had grown up on the toys as we had grown up on the toons, so we just wanted to make the best thing imaginable.” That’s nice 

Rodimus was never considered for the show “it’s been covered to death”, but they were adamant about portraying Hot Rod as someone who wanted to be a leader

Hot Rod is someone who is learning to be a leader

“Please don’t tell JRO I forgot about Whirl” re: talking about why they chose each character for the “Anti-Quintesson” team

Q: Re: Why did Drift try to kill Roddy A: They said they needed a double-agent and they needed someone who would (seemingly) kill Hot Rod

She loves that Optimus is just trying so hard to rebuild Cybertron, I just want society to start rebuilding

Q: Since you mentioned Optimus's death... he didn't seem to have a plinth in "our" Matrix realm. Does that mean the list of Primes works differently? Like are the 13 more of a dynasty, rather than all being a group together?  A: They decided Optimus would be in the Alt! Universe matrix because they wanted to show he was dead. Logical backflips because he needed to be among the 13 to talk to Windblade. 

She says Starscream’s death hurt her most

They didn’t want to kill people off willy-nilly for shock value

"The audience will fall in love with Slipstream so she has to die" LMAO

She almost wanted Starscream to emerge from the Judge heads untouched but she’s ultimately glad that idea got shot down

Dead End’s eyes are white

She’d love to have a MTMTE Magnus / Minimus included. She wished and prayed to have Frenzy and Rumble

They wanted Jazz to be a lady!!!!!!!

These characters are like grown ups (kinda) with their own lives that we don’t see. Lots of stuff happening between episodes

“Rumble and Frenzy are always considered in my heart, but there wasn’t enough time or space or assets to do so”

“Alt Soundwaves also had their own Laserbeaks. I wonder if the scientist would’ve taken them out. He might’ve just gotten rid of them.”

“A lot of intelligent life is inherently mechanical” explaining why so much of the life we saw in the show were robots

She would’ve liked to have the other shows show up (TFP, TFA, G1, Shattered Glass) but they don’t have those assets or budget. “This will quickly become unclear to audiences who aren’t (you people).” They couldn’t have all these references when some of their audience wouldn’t get it

“Why does anyone collect what they collect? That’s a really angry dad who’s got five children and he plays music. Gotta have that” --re: the Scientist and Soundwave

Knock Out was considered but every Transformer under the sun was discussed at some point in the Writer’s room. 

Developing Sky-Byte’s character was simultaneous with Jetfire’s character, "We knew we wanted Sky-Byte to be a poet, and we wanted him and Megatron to be chummy”

From the getgo they didn’t want any humans distracting from the Transformers

Q: Is Megatron dead? A: “In discussions we wanted to kill him. Wanted to do a reverse Optimus death. However, in the final product, I kinda enjoy the ambiguity rather than the final decision. Can’t remember if we were decisive about that in the script.”

She wanted them to have IDW Tarn in there “OBVIOUSLY (the perfect decepticon) should look like this guy. A faceless mindless Decepticon that only serves Megatron”

Q: Is Dead End a good boyfriend? A: Dead End is a work in progress, but maybe Percy is patient enough to get him there

Q: Is Astrotrain a good boyfriend?” A: “No, no...he’s not a good person, really”

“When I was desperately trying to save Starscream’s life even though I brutally murdered Slipstream--” LMAO She wanted Starscream to have amnesia and she says she wanted to have a redeption arc. She wanted him to have a Windblade shard and have it be kind of like Castaway, where he only talked to it (and the shard only had 5 phrases it could say) and eventually Bee would befriend him Wanted to write Starscream as an abuse victim who expected the worse of the Autobots, but she wanted him to warm up slowly

Wanted a Starscream and Optimus episode where he’s like “you did your best and that’s what counts”

Q: Is Percy a good boyfriend A: “Absolutely--WAIT HOLD ON. He’s very blunt, he doesn’t mince words, if you can handle his bluntness then you’re good. He is what he is and you have to deal with him.”

Q: Is Soundwave a good boyfriend? A: Soundwave is not a good boyfriend. He’s a good casual romance but he’s not a good boyfriend. Soundwave would be a terrible listener. He hears a lot but he’d tune you out.

Percy did permanently take over Mac’s bar

She really wanted Obsidian and Transmutate to be in the show.

If Thunderclash was in the show he and Jetfire would HATE each other. Thunderclash would be a rival reality star (maybe) to Media Fire

Fave Episode was “I Am the AllSpark” b/c of that Megatron and Starscream dialogue Also S2 04 Soundwave and Shockwave

Transmutate would be more like the uprising version (?) but modeled more on the BeastWars version

The Starscream & Megatron beatdown was super severe and they were like “holy frick they’re really going for it” when they saw the boards for it

She likes the Windblade / Slipstream ship

Her favorite VA is Jeremy Levy, he’s a really cool guy

She thinks Starscream and Cheetor could become (not necessarily friends, but connected?) because of their connection to the All Spark 

Describes Starscream as an “Awful gremlin” several times

They say Megatron didn’t actually kill Starscream, just really beat him down hard

“Don’t take things I say as the end all be all”

She doesn’t think Bee would be a Prime, Windblade and Hot Rod would be a better Prime. He wouldn’t want to be a Prime. He’s the #2 to Primes!

With unlimited budget combiners could’ve been included, but it doesn’t seem like they thought about it

Astrotrain and the Insecticons are from Megatron X’s universe

Megatron’s priorities changed when he saw his doppelganger. Realizing he was a horrible tyrant, that scared him enough to return and not kill Optimus and make peace no matter what.

She thinks Cliffjumper and Bee wouldn’t get along, solely because of the IDW2 comic stuff

Got 26 episodes for season 3 because they got the 4-part movies

Megatron cares about his troops but not in a way that we would notice that care

Wasn’t a HUGE die-hard TF fan when she got into the series but she was a bigger GI Joe fan, she reread a bunch of things and did a lot of research

Cut joke: S2 E5 Megatron and OP finds the All Spark Decepticons and Autobots popping all over the world, Soundwave pops into Brazil where there’s a music festival and he’d crash the concert and hang out. He likes EDM the most?

The Titans want to be cities. They want citizens. They want to be lived in, that brings them joy (ouch)

Q: How did the Decepticons learn to stream? A: Because they’re deceptive! He knew he should dedicate some time to winning the hearts and minds of humans. Starscreams’ funeral was not the first time they streamed Optimus would use the official media channels, not a streaming service. Megatron would try to speak more directly to the people.

From the conception, the show wasn’t going to have humans

She thought people would ship Dead End / Percy but it wasn’t until she saw art that she started shipping them

Q: Is Optimus the type of streamer who would take 10 minutes to figure out how to un-mute his microphone A: Optimus is a dad. He has no idea what’s going on re: streaming. Optimus would say embarrassing news while Bee and Hot Rod are in the middle of streaming

Doesn’t ship Bee with anyone, she sees him as a little brother

Randolph put Rack ‘n Ruin in the show.

AcidStorm is genderfluid

Cold Construction doesn’t exist in this show. Maybe there’s one jet mode all the seekers really like

We have Mae Catt to thank for Whirl

Percy didn’t transform because not a good time to turn into a microscope while you’re trying to save your planet from Quintessons

If she were a transformer she’d want to be a stealth bomber. She’s 5′3 so she says she’d probably actually be a motorcycle like Chromia

They killed Prowl because it was Shadow Striker doing the killing and he’s a self-sacrificing lieutenant.

Enjoyed writing Starscream most, Clobber and Hot Rod became a joy, S2 E4 was her first one, it was fun getting into Hot Rod’s voice. She said it was hard doing Optimus’ voice, she’d always pass it off to someone to look at it.

She loves the idea of Wild Wheel robbing Astrotrain in train-mode, totally wild west-style

One of her proudest things was turning Lugnut into a gal

They wanted to include more female characters

They love Cosmos, she has a little toy of him. R2D2 but a transformer! They loved having her in the show

Blurr really was the fastest

Maccadam looking like a buff Rung was just a strange coincidence 

Q: Megop rights?  A: “Oh absolutely, duh”

Says we absolutely SHOULD write fanfic. Fanfiction made her into the writer she is today, she says you should write it

There’s a lot between episodes, people living their lives and characters living on the ship that don’t pop up in the show

She wrote non-stop Matrix fanfic from 12-20 years old, she learned a lot thanks to writing fanfic

Uses “They” pronouns for Rack ‘n Ruin but they both use “he”

Sad that Skywarp didn’t get a speaking line

Re: Starscream’s redemption arc: She wanted Starscream to have amnesia if they went the “he comes out of the ruins of the judge totally fine”. “A redemption arc needs to be facilitated by a character acknowledging that what they did was wrong. He would have a laundry list of excuses for everything, even if there was all that evidence to the contrary, but needs to acknowledge that reasons don’t matter because people got hurt. Needs to intend to do better. Let them try and let them fail, they don’t need to 180, it’s hard work to be a better person.”

Shadow Striker is taller than Optimus or is his height. She loves the gender-neutral designs for a lot of characters

She’s not going to say whether Ratchet finished medical school or not Laughed at the  "i don't believe that man has ever been to medical school" comment

Q: How would you feel about a female Optimus Prime? A: [GAY LAUGHTER] “So do you turn Optimus Prime into a woman, or do you take characters like Elita One and uplift her? I would want to lean more into giving Elita One more oomph, I do love how Optimus doubts himself and if he’s worthy of being a Prime.”

Says Rack ‘n Ruin are probably the Prime in that one weird universe lmao

Loves the idea that Transformers have siblings / families

She doesn’t think Cybertronians celebrate birthdays. “Why would you celebrate being alive for 4 million years that sounds like a nightmare.” She says that people would be celebrating milestones if nothing else

She’d kill to have Perceptor meet the other stunticons

She says she doesn’t post fanfic as much anymore. Sends them to Natalie as love letters (Ghost Busters fics specifically)

In a world where you had unlimited budget it’d be fun if Cybertronians were constantly shape-shifting and changing their forms, they’d like having Transformers who “grew a beard” and decided to “shave it”

Re: Ratchet and Medical school: she wants a “I choose to believe Ratchet has never been to medical school” shirt

Natalie (her GF) said hi 

She doesn’t understand cycles or astrocycles, she doesn’t understand the weird Transformers time stuff. (mood)

Natalie explained how ghost traps work and it was a delight "You're basically making a pocket dimension, that's how you capture ghosts" “The Technology for a ghost trap is like magic and science” 

Maecatt's bringing all her TF toys over to the camera 

Q: Elita prime when? A: All the time, in my heart! 

Q: Why are you so mean to Percy? A: He's so mature and pragmatic that he can take it, and is willing to take one for the team bc he understands that it's what he needs to do. Yes, he’s calmly feral.

Yes to the hurt/comfort Deadceptor fanfic joke answer

She jokingly says she's willing to buy Cyberverse fanart prints

“Arcee was fun to figure out because there’s an extra bit of pressure to develop a female character, there is extra pressure to do it well since it’s representing a different community (not that women are different species) more representation is needed. “What kind of woman can our Arcee be?”” Scared to write her poorly, but they realized she could be a fun dynamic duo with Grimlock, someone who could keep up with him, not a “girl” version of him, but someone who could stand on her own two feet

Collecting Soundwave because Soundwave is COOL. Wouldn’t you collect a single father of 5 who carries them around in his chest?

Shockwave altered his vibes to have maximum bad vibes to destroy the All Spark

Rebooting the franchise: she’d maybe do beast wars or something

Skullcruncher is a lady! She misses Mac but Percy takes good care of her

She loved Beast Wars Inferno, she loved that Inferno called Megatron a Queen. It was played as a joke because the 90s weren’t very socially conscious, but she liked that Megatron never corrected him or beat him down

She wanted to have Lightbright and Nickle in the show 

"Maybe Drift is alive, maybe he's rethinking his decision and he'll come back later" 

She said it's hard talking about writing a show because you're designing the experience and you have to make sometimes what sounds like cold and pragmatic decisions (eg: "we need a cold and spunky female") which sucks, but they need to balance out the show. She says she'd never do that just for the sake of doing it, but it's part of something that they do need to be aware of while working on a show “Starts from a weirdly cold pragmatic place, but we try and put truth in it”

Q: Is Skullcruncher Percy's bouncer now that he's running Maccadam's? A: Oh totally

She felt bad about the writing thing because she says "you could throw a rock in California and you'd hit a writer / director or whatever" but she says she really likes being an authority on things now, even if it’s weird

She said Drift would've been helpful in S3 for sure, maybe he'd come up with Repugnis

Q: If Tarn is the perfect Decepticon who's the perfect Autobot A: Someone with a Firetruck alt mode, Autobot insignia as a face. Nat and her talked about it a lot. She says Optimus SHOULD be a fire truck, it makes the relationship between him and Ratchet a little more fun since Ratchet is an ambulance, and Optimus has an AX. It just makes sense! She agreed that the perfect Autobot would be Thunderclash after the chat said that

“If you put the proverbial budget-gun to my head, I’d keep Unicron in planet-mode because it’s more mysterious, but I want both alt modes”

Her favorite Megatron is Beast Wars Megatron

They didn’t want to go the Unicron route because everyone goes that route

Q:  What sort of documents DID Optimus work on in the archives? A: Probably historical archives and working on all the Primes. Something like the French / American revolution equivalent, which informed his speech writing for Megatron and his own ethics. (NICE)

She doesn’t like Sky Lnxy’s design, it’s creepy. “He talks in the G1 episodes and the voice makes it worse.” She can’t get over his face

“Found” the social awkwardness for Optimus. Optimus depicted as a father figure in S1 because it’s from Bee’s perspective, S2 / S3 they were able to explore more and found the limits and found it was hard to maintain that level of heroic dialogue. Optimus would feel awkward about it too. Randolph did an impression of Optimus’ speech. “He can’t not be in war-mode” :(

Q: Were Optimus and Megatron friends ever, or did they just work together on the speech stuff? A: Oh hell yes, I think [the story] is always enhanced when they’re friends and when Optimus really believes in what Megatron was working on. Optimus’ rejection of Megatron is what pushes him over the edge, his best friend rejecting him pushes him into a place where he becomes a tyrannical person.

Q: Does Maccadam know we love him? A: *puts hand over heart and looks into the distance* Yes

“Who knows where Dead End ended up” then backtracks and says “Wait that sounds flippant”

Soundwave’s favorite Earth song is Despacito

Q:  What's the best selfie Arcee's ever taken A: Mae Catt loves the one with the giraffe. She likes the idea of Arcee having a bunch of human friends

Q: What do the Transformers think of the Florida Man? A: They can’t really tell the difference between humans, they don’t really get it. It just sorta looks like all the normal stuff they see on Earth (or something)

Q: Who's the Florida Man of the Transformers A: Rack ‘n Ruin or Skybyte. But he’s too nice hmmm.

Leaned into the wackiness of Wheeljack because of the VA

Q:  What does Optimus do when he's not giving speeches / being a leader when they were all hanging out on the ARK? A: I think he reads, he seems like a heavy reader. It’d be cute if he read really bad Earth romance novels. He seems like a guy who needs a break from everything.

Q: Does Optimus have hobbies? A: Not to borrow from Rung, but doesn’t it seem like Optimus would make model ships? Very quiet, very focused detail-oriented hobby. Oh duh, he also plays basketball.

“I’d love to see more jets [who aren’t our usual gang] and find out all jets are kinda snobby”. Kaon and Tarn would be fun, it’d be cool to make up places.

(Someone asking if Optimus would read 50 Shades of Gray, someone else saying “They’d take it the wrong way because Transformers turn gray when they die”)

Everyone on the Autobot side are friends with each other.

Q: Does Megatron do anything for fun or is he too angry? A: I want to say he’s too angry, he has fun beating people down but I don’t think he’s had fun for a long time

Q: Were you surprised that Jake Tillman was in his 20s listening to his Optimus the first time? A: Jake Tillman was a vine-r she listened to a ton. She’d heard him when he was in his teens

MaeCatt loves that Shadow Striker saved Windblade’s body and kept her safe

Q: what was most important to you personally to put out in each episode? like humor/characterization/arcs A: Wanted to make sure she didn’t write dialogue that was condescending, wanted to be true about the character. Needs to be true to the characters (and gay) 

Transformers probably don’t know what memes are. They know what they ARE, but they don’t get it. They wanted Hot Rod to be super into Earth culture (winning races and driving off before humans could realize no one was in the car), but they never had time to really get into that.

Wound up in the Cyberverse writer’s room thanks to her agents, says she was the only person who gave a crap about GI Joe stuff, the executives were so sweet and let her chat, and they said she wasn’t a good fit for the current live action project so they sent her to the animation side, they sent her to Michael Howzer and they hit it off talking about GI Joe stuff. She was a post PA, someone who helped editors finish things for TV, got a call with an offer. 

#i talk #Cyberverse #Mae Catt #I'm watching Cyberverse #Transformers #Cyberverse Spoiler / #Primordial Robot hell

[sanderssideswriting]

Youtuber Life Chapter 1

Based off this post

Ships: familial sleepxiety and eventual Prinxiety

Words:???

first  next

Summary: Remy Sanders is a famous beauty vlogger and just moved to LA with his teenage son Virgil after their location was leaked by fans. Remy AKA CoffeeAddiction has several million subscribers. Virgil also has a secret Drama channel, where he doesn’t show his face and uses a voice modifier. He just hit a million subs and grows more everyday because of the level of production his videos have, the mystery around who he is and the fact that he ALWAYS has the latest information regarding youtube drama.

The house was pretty big, it wasn't where most youtuber houses where but it also wasn’t to far. Remy was already vlogging about the new house.

“This is my new house, there will be a house tour later, this time I’ll be making sure you guys can’t find it. I love y’all but I don’t love it when people find out where I live and then put it on the internet. I like my privacy, well the little I have left and I’d like to keep it that way. See you soon babes,” and the camera was turned off.

the first thing they set up was the basement, where Remy filmed almost everything with another room to do voiceovers and editing.

Virgil and Remy had a pretty good time decorating the house and it turned out really nice.

Then school started.

Virgil was dreading it, to say the least, he did NOT want to be the new kid. Being the new id sucks, everyone wants to know everything about you. And Virgil tended to avoid talking about his personal life for obvious reasons. But the kids at his school wouldn’t know that.

Then he found out it would be private school.

“Dad! There’ll be fake stoners! They’re worse then real stones! Plus everyone will be stuck up and annoying! I’ll have to wear a uniform!” He complained.

“They have a Starbucks in the cafeteria,” Remy said.

Virgil shut up.

The first day of school came and Virgil did indeed have to wear a uniform, it wasn’t that terrible, but he still hated it simply because it was a uniform.

At school he was given his schedule and a map and left to find his own way to class. He was only ten minutes late to the first one and five minute to every one after that.

At lunch there was no Starbucks apart from stuff in bottles, Virgil bought two anyway but  texted his dad.

V: you lied about the Starbucks Remy: Technically they DO have Starbucks V: not the good kush Remy: It’s cold and it has caffeine and the logo V: you’d never drink it Remy: I can afford not to V: so can I, just can’t get any atm Remy: pay attention in class V: it’s lunch Remy: make friends! Or like idk make a sarcastic tweet on Twitter, apparently texting your dad isn’t very cool with the kids these days V: it would be if they knew that YOU’RE my dad Remy: go drink coffee or something, I need to edit

“Hey! You’re new right?” A boy with light brown hair and round glasses asked sitting down.

Virgil nodded.

“I’m Patton Foster and this is Logan Berry, our other friend Roman Prince is coming he’s meeting with a teacher,” Patton said.

“Virgil Sanders,” Virgil said.

Patton and Logan seemed to take that as their queue to sit down with him.

“Where did you move from?” Patton asked.

“Atlanta.”

“Cool! Why did you move here?” Patton asked trying to make conversation.

“My dads job,” Virgil said.

His phone buzzed, he best friend Janus and Remus had snapped him.

It was a basic snap saying “how’s LA treating you? See Jake Paul yet?”

Virgil texted them back.

Racoon: lol not yet, but I’m sure it’ll be soon Hiss hiss motherfucker: yeah, they’re like an infestation Raccoon: ouch Dukey: How’s the Starbucks at your fancy rich kid school? Racoon: A fucking lie, at this rate I’ll be drinking the bang they have Hiss hiss motherfucker: ew, no don’t Racoon: I know Dukey: Seen any stoners or druggies yet? Racoon: saw a few fake ones, including one kid asking everyone if they’d sell him their Adderall Dukey: weakass stoners Racoon: you have ADHD not a drug problem Remus, you’re not a stoner Dukey: I could be Hiss hiss motherfucker: well you’re not, so shut the fuck up Hiss hiss motherfucker: there’s a new pallet coming out in a few weeks... Racoon: Not doing it, it’ll be hard enough to get one, get your own Hiss hiss motherfucker: at least tell me how you LAWAYS get them Racoon: lol no

Janus sent a lovely picture of his middle finger

Virgil did the same, but with his face in it.

“Hey, you’re the new kid right?” Another guy said sitting down, Roman probably.

“Unfortunately, Virgil Sanders.”

“Roman Prince, your name sounds familiar,” Roman said.

Virgil shrugged “no idea why,”

“Where are you from?”

“Atlanta, isn’t that cool Roman!” Patton said.

“That’s how I know you! My twin Remus Duke, I think he’s told me about you before,” Roman said.

Virgil took a picture of Roman and sent it to Remus.

Racoon: you know him? Dukey: yeah, he’s my twin, why? Racoon: first of all you have a TWIN? I thought you where an only child. Dukey: child of divorce here, yeah we still talk. Small world ig Racoon: and you told him about me? Dukey: yeah, so? Or are you to stuck up to have people talk about you? Racoon: fuck off, or I’ll do your channel next Disgrace Dukey: try me bitch

“Yeah no, your right, Remus just didn’t say he was a fucking twin for some reason,” Virgil said.

Roman looked pretty offended at that. Virgil smirked “now I know why Remus says ‘offended princey noises’ all the time.”

“That fiend says what?” Roman demanded.

“Don’t hurt yourself Princey.”

The bell rang and Virgil made a quick exit.

At home he got in and saw the Filming light by the basement door was on. He opened the door anyway. “Has the espresso machine been unpacked? Also you fucking lied! There was no Starbucks!”

“Filming! Read the fucking sign, of course it was unpacked and it’s your fault for thinking it was a rich, rich kid school. Why the fuck would they have an actual Starbucks in the cafeteria? What did you learn today? And get me some espresso if you’re going to make some.”

“Fake stoners are worse then real stoners and they can go fuck themselves,” Virgil said before closing the door to get some espresso, which he promptly mixed into his coffee.

“People have been begging me to do an update on this so here it is. Trisha Paytas and DID, sorry it hasn’t been done yet but I’ve been getting new equipment and also moving stuff around so I can have a bigger space to edit and record. So we all know she’s faking, I’ve actually been doing research, not a ton, I’m not an expert but I have been learning. Not only to debunk Trisha but just understand DID more because I’m very uneducated and want to change that. DID is a very serious condition and Trish is not portraying it well or even describing it, she is describing things everyone does. Such as living in America and going to England, everyone’s accent naturally changes over time, you act differently around people. Those are not alters, that has nothing to do with DID. Let’s get into the video so I can correct more but not everything because I’m not an expert. “That’s it for today, I can’t take anymore stupidity so I’ll see you next week for another episode of “What the fuck did she say now?”

#sander sides #parent Remy #teen virgil #teen roman #teen patton #teen logan #teen Deceit #teen Janus #teen Remus #creativitwins #au #human au #youtuber #famous

[crowdedimagines]

The Camera - David Dobrik

word count:1769

The camera. Everything between David and I was for the camera. It had to be right? There is no way that he actually could like me that way.

Once I became friends with the vlog squad, the fans were quick to push for dating rumors. It started out as me and Todd. Once he got in a public relationship they moved on to shipping me with Jeff. They soon realized that we weren’t the most compatible once they saw David and I together. They went crazy, sending me higher in fame.

David and I took advantage of what the fans wanted, flirting for the camera. It was fun and easy at first. Then, everything started to feel too real. I decided the fans were right, David and I would be great together.

“Isn’t that right, Y/n?” David asks, turning the camera towards me.

“What?” I ask, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Were you thinking about me?” He grins, laying it on thick for the footage.

“You wish.” I smirk, shoving him away slightly.

David goes back to filming Ilya for his channel. I sit down on the couch next to Natalie, trying to get some space from David. It’s never going to work between the two of us, I should try to distance myself.

“You know, he doesn’t just do it for the camera.” Natalie comments, she nods her head in the direction of where David just disappeared outside.

“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.

“He actually cares about you, Y/n. In a more than friendly way.”

“What makes you say that? He’s only flirty when the camera is on.”

“That’s not true. He always wants do be around you. With or without the camera. He may just be a little extra while filming.”

“No, I’ve seen him flirt with other girls at parties with the camera off. I’m just clickbait to him. We’re just friends and I need to be okay with that. I’m never going to be real dating material to him.”

“How do you know that that is all that David wants? What makes you think he doesn’t want this just as much as you?”

I don’t know what to say to Natalie after that. We sit in silence while I try to let it sink in. I don’t think she’s right. He isn’t the same towards me off and on camera. David would have done something if he actually felt some way towards me.

“I think I’m going to go home.” I stand up, grabbing my phone.

“Y/n, I don’t want to make you upset.” Natalie says with concern.

“No, no, you’re totally fine, Nat.” I smile to reassure her, “I just want to go home.”

I walk towards the door and almost make it to my car before David catches me. He grabs on to my upper arm.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Oh, I was just headed home.” I smile, reaching for my car door.

“And I wasn’t even going to get a goodbye?” He smirks, I look down. His camera must be inside because it’s not in his hand.

“Sorry, goodbye David.” I give him a tight lipped smile before opening my door.

“Hey, are we okay?” He wipes the smirk off his face, finally getting serious.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” I play along, trying my hardest to keep myself composed for a while longer.

“I don’t know, something feels off.” He shakes his head.

“We’re fine.” I pull him in for a fast hug to attempt to prove my point, but the look on his face in my rearview window seems to show that it doesn’t work.

The drive home is quiet, I don’t bother to put on any music. I let the silence fill the air around me while I think. Can I stay his friend after all of this? I just feel hurt constantly knowing the rejection I would face if I were to say how I truly feel.

I stay to myself for a few days. The longest I’ve been away from anyone in the vlog squad since I’ve met them. I’ve received a few messages from friends, but so far I’ve been ignoring them. I don’t even know what to say at this point. How can I explain how I feel?

There’s a knock at the door which is surprising for how late it is. I look through the peephole to see a familiar boy with a black shirt on and shaggy brown hair. I take a deep breath before swinging the door open.

“Hi, David.” I say quietly, trying to greet him as normally as possible.

David finally looks up at me. He has dark bags under his eyes, they’ve become red with a lack of sleep.

“Hi.” He whispers back in a broken voice.

“Are you okay?” I ask with concern, wrapping my blanket tighter around my body.

“I think I should be the one asking you that. I haven’t heard from you in days, you’ve been ignoring me. What’s going on, Y/n?” David asks.

I pull the door open wider and he takes the hint to come inside. Wordlessly, we both walk over to my couch where we have watched countless movies together.

“Why are you ignoring me?” David looks hurt, I don’t blame him. I have been ignoring him.

“David.” I close my eyes for a few seconds.

“No Y/n, I deserve to know what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong!” I sigh, “This is on me, it’s something that I need to work on. Something that I need to work past.”

“Natalie told me what the two of you talked about.” He finally admits.

“She what?”

“Don’t get mad at her, this was after days of radio silence from you and I was constantly grilling her.” He reaches out to press a hand to my arm, “I have been practically enchanted with you since I met you, Y/n. You are such an amazing person, and you bring such a light to my life. You are the one person in my life I can always to count on to cheer me up, to want me just for me.”

I look up to see that the emotional boy in front of me has tears in his eyes. I reach up and brush one away that had just started to glide down his cheek.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you were just clickbait to me. Acting that way while we are filming was a way to make you notice me. Then we just kept doing it. It was like my dreams coming true of actually having you as mine. When Natalie told me you felt the same I was elated, but now I see how much I might have messed things up.”

“Wow, I really wished you had started with that all those months ago.” I smirk, thinking over his kind words.

“Me too.” He grins.

“You didn’t mess anything up. I really like you, David. If that wasn’t obvious enough.” I roll my eyes, leaning on his shoulder.

“So, what do you think?” He looks down at me, “Should we give us a shot?”

“I’m game.”

“No more secrets?”

“No more secrets.” I confirm.

“So, we’re dating?” He asks.

“We’re dating.” I say with approval.

Three months later.

David and I have happily been dating for three months as of today. It feels like so much more, hard to believe we were friends first at this point. Today is a special day because it’s the day we decided we would tell the fans that we are official. There has been speculations for months, but today we get to finally settle everything.

“Hello everybody, I am going to start off and say that this isn’t like my normal vlogs.” David grins at the camera.

“No shit.” I say off camera.

“Hey!” He laughs, reaching out of frame to lightly smack my leg.

“I have an announcement to make.” He smiles before clearing his throat, “Or should I say we have an announcement to make.”

David pulls my arm to yank me closer. I manage to fall onto his lap making both of us groan out in light pain.

“Ouch babe, a warning would have been nice.” I rub the now sore spots on my body.

“You just called me babe on camera.” David smirks, looking down at me.

“Oh yeah! We’re dating!” I cheer.

We both breakout in laughter and calm down to continue filming.

“We actually are dating. After all those months of everyone thinking we were and trying to find proof, yes, we are actually dating.” David explains.

“Today’s our three month anniversary!” I say with glee.

“Well when we film it it is, not the day it’s posted.”

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes, “Yeah, so everyone who thought that we have been dating a whole year, you’re wrong. It was only three months ago David got the balls to ask me out.”

“Hey! I do remember someone being a bit misleading with their feelings.” He bites back a smirk.

“Are we really getting into this on our first couple video?” I turn around to look at him.

“Fine, we’ll save it for another one.” David turns his attention back to the camera, “The rest of the vlog is going to be footage that I couldn’t show you guys before because we were a secret. I hope you guys like it!”

David hops up to turn his camera off and download the footage. He goes out to the living room and I follow him there. He sits down and I stand behind him, wrapping my arms around his shoulder with my head resting next to his.

“How do you think the fans will react?”

“I think they are going to be more excited than our friends were.” David laughs, thinking of everyone’s reaction to us finally getting together.

It doesn’t take long for David to edit the video, he already had the footage for the end ready.

“It’s ready to post.” David yells out to me.

“Do it!” I encourage with a yell from the kitchen while cooking supper.

It’s quiet for a while until David walks over and presses a kiss to my temple while he watches me stir things on the oven.

“It’s uploaded.”

“Congrats, babe.” I turn to give him an actual kiss.

“No more secrets? For real this time?” David asks laughing, referring to us having to somewhat hide it from fans for what felt like a long time.

“No more secrets.”

#david imagines #david dobrik imagines #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik x you #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik #David's Vlogs #david dobrik gif #vlog squad imagines #vlog squad #youtube #youtube imagines #youtuber imagines #angst #happy ending

[alswonderland]

Its time

↳Peter Parker x f!reader

↳ Pregnant au/ married life au with Peter Parker where Peter and reader prepare for the arrival of a new member.

↳Warning: avengers being cute af, fluffy goodness, married couple stuff, Peter being suggestive (slightly)

↳A/n: dude you have no clue how long I have been wanting to post this for. I kept procrastinating on writing it even thought I loved the idea.

*edited from the original version*

————————————

“Y/n!” Peter screamed at the top of his lungs “can you get the screws as well?” he asked his 9 month pregnant wife.

Peter was in the middle of setting a baby crib that he had ordered online when you were 3 months pregnant, but due to really bad shipping arrangements the crib had only come two days go. 

Which is why both you and your husband(mostly your husband, because he wasn't letting you do anything) were trying to build the crib as fast as you could because you never know when the baby would pop right out of you, since you were now very close to your due date.

“Coming, coming” you waddled your way to Peter. You gave him the desired object and held your very round belly. “Do you see that sweety, do you see what daddy is making for you? this is going to be your new bed!” you looked at Peter and newly made crib.

You had started to pick up the habit of talking to your baby in the middle of your pregnancy due to the fact that you were bored of staying home alone the entire day, you spoke to your baby, telling him stories about how you and Peter met and how excited is everyone to meet the little one.

Peter looked at you in awe as you rubbed your belly and smiled at your bump. He got on his knees and looked your big belly. He rubbed small circles and whispered soft things only for your infant to hear. Father-son bonding time as he liked to call. 

When ever Peter had time, whether it was after long hours of work at the bureau or going on business trips with Tony , your husband would always find a way to talk to your baby.  

Peter got up from his position to cup your face in his soft hands. “I love you” he said as he kissed your temple softly. 

“I love you, too”

—————————————————————

You opened an eye looking at the glowing red light next to your bed, 3 am. You let out a small groan, angry, it was 3 am and you couldn’t sleep no matter how hard you tried because everytime your eyes closed you would see that beautiful chocolate cake you saw at the grocery store the day before when you went for a late night grocery run with Peter. 

“i knew i should've bought it” you thought resting your hand on your belly and felt kicks. “are you thinking about it too?” smiling you looked over to your sleeping husband. Mouth wide open,  a bit of drool threatening to fall on the baby blue pillowcase he was sleeping on. What a cutie. 

You leaned over to him and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

You slowly removed the covers of your body and tried get off the bed without making any sounds to make up the sleeping beauty next to you. 

“ouch, that hurt!” You whined softly, as you rubbed the area you got kicked “whats wrong?” you pouted.

“Food?” you questioned in a amused tone, and got a kick as a response. With that you walked out of your shared bedroom and made your way to the kitchen. 

“What should we eat?” You bent down a little to look at the items inside your refrigerator.

“Broccoli? Nah who we kidding we ain’t healthy, pasta? Hmm maybe in the morning,” both hungry and  frustrated from no sleep you shut the fridge a bit to hard. You winced at the noise of magnets falling on the floor and prayed that Peter hadn’t woken up. 

“We literally don’t have anything to eat!” you kicked the magnets out of the kitchen making a mental note to tell him in the morning to pick it up. You let a annoyed sigh, when you remembered Peter buying some snacks.

“Ah ha!” You exclaimed looking at the pack of chocolate chips in your pantry. “ I knew I had this somewhere” you grined.

You looked at your belly which was covered in one of Peter’s extra large graphics t-shirts, and said “ let’s get baking kiddo.”

“Ahh smells so good!!!” You exclaimed as you mixed the dough with the chocolate chips “if only I can taste it” you said with a slight pout, as you brought the spoon next to your mouth.

“Don’t you even think about it” said Peter making you jump in fright.

“OMG BABE! WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO? SCARE THE BABY OUT OF ME?” You screamed as you placed your hand on your rapidly beating heart.

Peter, no longer leaning on the doorway of your kitchen made his way to you. His arms holding you in a soft embrace, as he muttered soft words to calm your poor heart. He kissed your forehead and apologized profusely.

“Y/n what are you even doing here? At this time? It’s almost 3:30?”

“I... well you see Junior over here got hungry and decided that it would be fun playing soccer in my tummy till he gets my attention which he did. So I came into the kitchen to see what is there to eat, but didn’t find anything that I wanted then I remembered that we have chocolate chips left so”

“So you wanted to bake cookies” said Peter with a beautiful grin.

“Oh you know me so well, Mr. Husband” you cooed as you pecked his lips.

He smiled at the gesture and shook his head at your cute antics.

“Well then, since you’re going to be baking cookies I might as well help you. Now go on sit down, and let me do the rest.”

With that he sent you out of the kitchen and put the cookies in the oven and cleaned the kitchen as you eagerly waited for them to be done.

You walked back into the kitchen to see if your treats were ready to eat instead you were faced with your husbands back who was in the process of cleaning the dishes.

“wait what are you doing here” you poked Peter’s arm. “i woke up when you kissed me” he shrug as he continued to do the dishes. “you know babe i really thought i was gonna get something more than just a kiss on the forehead since....well you know.... you were up during fuckboy hours but i guess not” he pouted and then winked “and since we are up now” he sang wiggling his eyebrows, you hit his arms laughing.

“Peter” you gasp “how can you say that and in front of your son ” you faked a shocked expression as Peter jokingly started to strip out of his pjs. 

‘wow a dinner and a show im so lucky’ you thought as you took a bite of a cookie.

—————————————————————

“ OMG BABE!!!!” Peter’s screams rang through the house.

“What what is? What happened? Who died” you came in as fast as you could while you held onto your belly.

“Honey walk slowly you might get hurt” Peter extended his arm for you to take and gently put you down on you shared bed.

“Nothing like that happened but I just realized that you due date is in a week!!!” He exclaimed. “ IN A WEEK!”

“Can you imagine it? A mini me will be waking around this very spot in a week, Y/n can you imagine!!!” He spoke, his eyes shining with each word.

You smiled “ well he won’t be walking yet but YES IM SO EXCITED! Oh that reminds me, I kind of bought some more baby clothes the other day with Nat. Only because they were so cute!” You gushed. “You should’ve been there Peter that store is magical” he laughed at your child like behavior and went to get the bag of clothes from the closet.

“Did you find it?” You asked, getting ready to get them yourself.

“I got it. I got it” he said as he brought a baby blue bag along with a big brown book.

“also look at what I found” he waved your photo album in the air and sat next to you.

“Awe look it’s little Peter with his little willy,” You pointed at your husband’s baby picture.

 Peter’s faced became red, he cleared his throat and turned the page to avoid any more of your comments,  “well its not so small now is it” he let out of a soft ouch and rubbed his arm because you hit his arm for saying such things near his soon-to-be-born baby

As you looked through the album of memories, you started to feel intense pain in your lower abdomen. 

Little driblets of sweat started to from on your forehead and you breathing started to be come more heavy. 

Peter noticed the change in your behavior and placed a hand on the small of back to calm you down. You smiled at him weakly, and grabbed his thigh when the pain became unbearable. 

“P-peter” you quietly let out, “I-I think it’s time” you said looking in between your legs and saw the small water soaking your pants. 

Your water broke.

Peter’s calm expression morphed into a panicked one as he hurriedly took the hospital bag and walked you to the car. 

—————————————————————

The dull colors of the Hospital was making Peter feel more nervous than he actually felt. The thought of something happening to you or the baby in the process of the delivery kept running circles in his mind due to the stress and anxiety he was feeling at that moment. He knew he should not be worrying both you and the baby were in perfect condition, but he was not able to get those nasty thoughts out of his mind. 

Peter felt someone’s hand be placed on his shoulder he quickly looked up and saw Tony’s warm brown eyes. Tony gave him a reassuring smile and open his arms to initiate a hug. Peter overwhelmed with emotion cried in Tony’s affectionate embrace. 

“I’m going to be father” he sobs “I’m going to be Father”. Tony pulled away and looked at Peter in the eye. He cupped his face and whipped the tears away. 

“I know you are. You’re going to be a great one at that.” Tony smiled at the boy whom he saw grow into the fine young man he is today. 

“IM GOING TO BE A UNCLE YALL!!!!” a loud voice rang through the hall. Peter laughed at the familiar voice. He saw his friend Wade wave at him dressed up as a baby sitting in a baby stroller, he waved at the two men while being pushed by Sam and Bucky. 

“He’s so gonna get killed by them by the end of the day” whispered Tony. 

“definitely” Peter said laughing.  

Peter left his father figure when the nurse came to tell him that the contraction has begun.

—————————————————————

You were sitting on the bed with your baby in your embrace, Peter walked up to you and kissed your chapped lips. He leaned forwards and whispered to you how well you did during this hard process. 

“I should go call them,” he kissed the baby and went out.

Peter walked out of the delivery room with a huge smile that light the entire room “you can come see him now” he said and walked back inside to sit beside you on the bed. 

Everyone made their way to the room, walking slowly trying not to wake your newborn. 

“he is so precious,” cooed Natasha as she softly grazed his skin with her finger. “Can I hold him?” she asked. You nodded and let your best friend hold your baby boy. 

“what’s his name” asked Tony as he walked up to the red headed who was caressing the infant. 

“Harry Benjamin Parker” Peter said smiling, “Y/n chose it, but next time i will be the one choosing the name for our child” Peter said and you nodded. 

 “ Next time?” Thor said laughing. “You already planed on the next time Peter?” Thor teased Peter after seeing his face go red. 

“Hey, Hey blondie, stop teasing my son, and auntie Nat can I please hold my grandchild?” Tony said showing his pearly whites in order to get Harry. 

“Why should you get to hold Harry next!” said Steve. “I am the oldest!” 

“No, I should hold harry next,” quipped Thor “It’s always an honor to be held by a god,” 

“A god? oh please, let me hold My God Son harry, since I am his god father! I am his Sirius Black,” said Wade. 

“Wade we never made you the god father,” Peter quietly let out as he took Harry back from Natasha’s hand in fear that something might happen while everyone is fighting to hold his son. 

One of the nurses walked in to your room worried because of the arguing she heard from outside. She would've never thought that one day  she would see the worlds mightiest heroes fighting to hold a baby, but here she was.

Furious because this is most certainly not how one acts in a hospital she kicked them out of the room, and lectured them about how to behave in a hospital.

—————————

#peter parker dad au #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #peter parker #peter parker au #spiderman imagine #tom holland #marvel #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #peter parker married au #tom holland dad au #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #spiderman fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff

[thelonghairedone]

voltron livebloging season 6 edition (ep 1+2)

I have temporarily blacklisted various voltron related tags to avoid spoilers, lets hope it is enough. Like most of my dash is currently full of said blacklisted posts that i will avoid until i finish this in a few days.

So we start with meeting Lotor’s nanny....er governess. I like her design and Lotor’s expressions in regards to her, they are pretty funny. Hunk asks the question that hadn’t been brought up but really should have “what the hell does ‘vrept sa’ actually mean? And gets to have galra cultural lessons. Worldbuilding yay!

As I thought it looks like galra society already had a military bent long before becoming an evil empire. I mean that makes sense given Zarkon thought that a helmet was an appropriate gift to give a baby. Also Sendak’s breakaway group’s name is hilariously edgy and ridiculous. And a jab at Lotor of course (ie mentioning blood purity)

Uh Lotor, bit worried about you putting the safety of you subjects lower than working on the quintessance project. Think you may have picked up bad habits from your mom. And speaking of her....

Looks like the Haggar-Shiro mind connection works both ways. Haggar is going to Oriande to mess shit up, I am so excited. Looks like Sendak “I know your weakness” line was intended for voltron in general and not Shiro. Damn misleading trailers. Hunk gets to shine and whip everybody into shape, I am proud. This is why back during the earlier seasons when Shiro disapeared and there was the lion switch, i thought Hunk would have been the next best person to lead.

Shiro keeps on getting hit with the visions, poor guy :(

Hunk does not want to duel to death, which is understandable, though the information regarding galra culture is important to know when you are trying to involve yourself in dimplomacy with them

Haggar comes out of the mystical land reverting back to her Altean appearance, interesting and onimous. I am eagerly awaiting to see what shit Haggar fucks up

Part of the next episode involves this Lotor-Allura-Lance love triange thing which I won’t discuss much because I don’t really have any interest in either Lotura or Allurance. Lotor and Allura’s height difference is hilarious. I liked Pidge and Hunk’s teasing especially how it was Hunk that was playing the part of Allura and Pidge Lotor. And Pidge dipping Hunk. The mice were cute. Thats pretty much all I have to say about that plot

Krolia’s and Keith’s interaction takes where it left off. Snorted a bit at Keith’s “how do you know i am your son for sure?” part. Keith, she knows because you look like a tiny male version of her, that how. Krolia cuts off any further questions to focus on the mission which Keith agrees to because the two of them are very simmilar

Love the scenery of the weird ass gravitation sucking time-warping place. Kudos to the animators, illustrations and desginers of this. It looks wonderful. They lose their ship. Also did Keith just say “fuck!” when they lost the ship or did i misshear that?

Convient  memory showing white light shows us Keith’s parents backstory and also a worrying vision of Shiro with purple eyes (full on possesion is coming up I know it). Keith’s dad has an amusing southern accent. We still don’t know his name so fandom will have to continue call him Texas Kogane I guess. Like the fandom guessed, the whole blue lion thing had to due with how Krolia ended up on earth. And managed to save earth from galra invasion by keeping the discovery hidden. I feel a bit robbed that there isn’t a height diffence between Krolia and Dad Kogane. Come on. Also Yoruk is a name from one of the older versions of voltron isn’t it? Sounds familar

Baby Keith is cute. Krolia pulls another fake surrender. Love how badass she is. And the encounter convinces her that she needs to leave to keep the empire away from scouting out earth again.

So Keith’s dad is dead. And Krolia gets to find that out just now by seeing Keith’s memory at his dads gravesite. OUCH. Little-Keith is so cute and sad :( :(

So Voltron gets to introduce their version of space whales which somewhat remind me of the lionturtles from ATLA. If these whales also end up saving the day later on in a duex ex machina I am going to laugh so hard. Only those who keep up with both Star Wars Rebels and Voltron will get what I am refering to here, sorry. 

They get onto one of the spacewhale and then we get so see a space dog/wolf which is pretty much what i kept focusing on for the remainder of the episode. Its so cute! I love it! I wonder what Keith named it? Its such a good doggo :D :D

Wait two years? Is that with the whole “how are we sure you are the real Keith?” because Keith has aged 2 years while i am betting it wasn’t as long as that for the rest of the guys due to time fuckery in the weird zone he and his mom are in? Though once you are out of puberty i don’t think there is a dramatic difference in aging in two years. So hm.....

And it looks like they went back in time to Altea. Interesting.

Please Voltron creators don’t make Keith lose his mom or his dog. The preview clip we saw of Keith days ago, had him not looking very happy looking and it is making me worried. 

#I love Keith's new teleporting doggo #so cute #:D #space dogs! #space whales #the voltron kind not the swr kind #There is some shit going down involving Haggar soon and I am ready for it #Her apearence now is going to make it harder for Lotor to continue to deny their relation #in which i get distracted by the apearance of cute animals very easily #voltron #vld #voltron spoilers #voltron season 6 #vld spoilers #voltron liveblogging #vld liveblogging #Shit continues to happen to Shiro and it is likely to get even worse

[weareimprobable]

A open letter from Improbable’s D&D Producer to members of the Garrick Club. (It’s all a personal opinion, you understand..)

Since it’s International Women’s Day I thought I’d write a little post for the boys because you’re probably feeling a bit left out today and I’m a compassionate soul. This probably isn’t one of the most pressing issues around right now, but there’s something under the surface of it that feels important, and it’s something you can potentially take some action around - especially if you’re Stephen Fry or Hugh Bonneville or Benedict Cumberbatch*. So here goes.

A while back I was at a Devoted & Disgruntled event about commercial & subsidised producers. In one session about how to get more reviews and critical attention, a guy said: “If you really want critics to come see your shows, to be honest the best thing to do is take them out for dinner at the Garrick Club”.

Ouch. There it was, right there. The bullshit system at work. The problem that I’d long suspected but not really been able to prove. If you want critics to come to your show, be a man.

It wasn’t just rumour and myth either. The speaker was talking from experience, having worked for someone who did this regularly. This was the first time I’d heard someone articulate so bluntly what it was that went on at the Garrick, why it is such a problem; not just that it nurtures an exclusive, segregated, superior attitude or creates a space for one-sided argument, but that it keeps key tools for success unavailable to women**. It keeps the networks and handshakes and connections that oil the wheels of negotiations out of the reach of women.

Some months later, I can’t shake this conversation. I read the #MeToo accounts of systemic abuses of power, and about that other men’s club charity event*** that was all pretty disgusting and I think, yeah so the Garrick ain’t the frikkin' Bastille but there it is, squatting like persistent, heavy-breathing toad at the core of the theatre industry. Men in, women out, it croaks.

The Garrick Club website states that “No part of the clubhouse may be used for business purposes, which includes discussing business matters” which I suppose is their excuse. It’s all just a harmless bit of fun! Quality time for the lads! I’m also struck by how many of the articles following the last vote on accepting women describe it as being a place mostly inhabited by over-70s, an insistence that it’s just some harmless old fuddy-duddys sitting about reading Dickens, that we’re really not missing out on anything. “You don’t want to come in here ladies, it’s very very dull!” (turns gaslight down again). Other arguments put forward focus on the existence of women-only clubs. But there’s a fundamental difference here. Women-only spaces generally come into existence because women need a safe place to hang out where their drinks aren’t being spiked, where they aren’t getting talked over by manologuing**** mansplainers, where their arses aren’t being grabbed or they can just have a decent conversation without being interrupted by men who think the only possible reason women exist is to entertain men. Men’s clubs, on the other hand, exist to bolster power networks and do all that secret stuff that they all insist doesn’t exist. Until you find out that, if you want to get critics to come to your show, you take them for dinner at the Garrick. Looking beyond theatre, the Garrick is also very popular among the judiciary, which is everyone’s problem. *****

A few Garrick members said they’d resign after the last vote was unsuccessful in changing the policy, and I expect quite a lot more of the ~55% thought they’d done a good turn for feminism there and sorry it didn’t work out, we tried etc. So here’s my challenge to all you dudes who are still hanging on in there. If you really disagree with the policy, and if it really is just a bunch of harmless boring old conservatives, QUIT. If we’re not missing out on anything, RESIGN YOUR MEMBERSHIP. If it’s really not a place where useful conversations, deals and connections that further your career take place, STOP GOING THERE. Because frankly, looking at the fact that this vote passed in 2015 and there has been no move to admit women since and you are still a member, I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that it is just some jolly japes among the boys. I do not believe that you are not benefitting. If there was so little at stake, and if you really cared about equality, you would not have remained as a member, would you? Would you?

So either you are the kind of man-child who remains utterly terrified of women being better than him and thus have decided that women are all some sort of terrible mutant seagulls who literally cannot stop talking about “stuff” or you are basically a coward.

It’s International Women’s Day. Step up. Grasp the nettle of your own privilege. Share the power. Abandon this leaky, ancient, creaking ship and let’s find some better ways to make friends and influence people.

Happy IWD,

x Sarah

This post was extensively edited following a really nice conversation with the guy who made the comment that kicked it all off. In the first version he bore the brunt of my ire, unfairly it turns out as he’d made the comment ironically, which I’d missed at the time. Which all goes to show we should really all find time to have more proper conversations with each other when we get cross about stuff, and I think also proves once again that segregation is deeply unhealthy, so let’s not ever hang out in exclusive clubs with only People Like Us to talk to.

* Big fans of my work, absolutely.

** I definitely include trans and non-binary people in my definition of women here, because I bet the GC doesn’t. Please correct me if I’m wrong about that. It might turn out they have a great trans-inclusive policy created in consultation with some actual trans people but since they had a vote about women at which 0 women spoke, I reeeeeally doubt it.

*** Hey, you know who’s really good at charitable work without having to grope anyone in the process? Yes, that’s right, WOMEN!

**** Thanks, yeah you can have that for free.

*****Since the membership list is a closely guarded secret, I can’t tell you what this picture looks like from an intersectional point of view, but I’d bet my secret handshake they are not winning any awards for diversity. If anyone has any insight about this, I’d be grateful to hear it.

A little club-based disclaimer postscript. Personally I’m against private members clubs as a whole, whether divided along a gender-binary or mixed, because I’m not really into them as a concept. I was offered free membership of a new theatre club that opened in London last year and went along a couple of times out of curiosity. I came to the conclusion that it was just an expensive wine bar with added inconvenience. On learning that it was completely inaccessible to anyone with mobility issues, being up three flights with no lift, I decided I wasn’t up for giving my money to that kind of exclusivity and haven’t been back since. In fact I can’t really think of any kind of exclusivity that I’m ok with. Apart from toilet cubicles. My point is, if you disagree with the infrastructure, don’t support it. Find another place to hang out where everyone can join the conversation.

[skyburialatnight]

She Shines

Words: 1343

Fandom, Ship: Critical Role, Percahlia

Rating: PG

Warnings: Descriptions of injury, Major Character Death

Summary: Transistor AU, the aftermath of an attempted assassination.

*This is totally a recolour of official art, but you probably guessed that

Merry very very late Christmas @vexahliia !! This was going to be a full out AU but unfortunately, depression happened so I decided to tidy this up and post this up (i still have an outline of what I was going to do, so maybe one day- !) Also thank you to @the-waffle-iron for the one conversation we’ve had 5 months ago (you can’t see me but I’m giving you the thumbs up), where you encouraged me to do this! 

Edit: This was named after the Transistor Bonus Track of the same name

You can also see Alisha’s reaction of livereading it here

She stood, back straight, eyes shut. Breathed in. Breathed out.

 The room was dark, silent with bated breath, waiting.

 Waiting for her.

 Her dress, a streaming cascade of golden silk, wrapped around her body.

It whispered around her legs as she strode forward.

 Vex…

 She walked to the end of the catwalk, tiny lights dotting the sides, which lit up as she got closer and closer. At the end of the catwalk was a solitary microphone. Her voice.

 Vex…

 She stopped just behind it.

 Closed her eyes.

 Breathed in. Breathed out.

  Vex… please…

 She reached out to grab it.

 Vex… wake up…

 The lights flickered on with a sudden burst of white, blinding her. She raised a hand to her face to shield her eyes, but all she could see was white. Her eyes scrunched up tight.

 A wall of sound rose up to meet her, as a thousand voices screamed all at once. The sudden noise overwhelmed her ears, deafening her, and she staggered back, still clutching her microphone.

 Vex… please… you need to wake up…

 Make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it-

 VEX!

  Vex’ahlia opened her mouth to scream. Nothing came out.

  VEX WAKE UP!

 Her eyes fly open and her body jolts forward. She heaves a breath in, and breathes out with a shudder.

 In.

 Out.

 In.

 Out.

 When the nausea resides, she looks back up and takes in her surroundings. In contrast to her nightmare, she is outside and the pink and blue sky tells her that it is dawn.

 Vex looks around, taking in towering white buildings with vines of black metal entwining around their windows. Cloudtop district.

 Wait. Cloudtop district?

 Wasn't she just in the Central Distract?

 She remembers being at The Empty Set, with its dim lighting and golden statues. She remembers walking off the stage, down the hall to her dressing room. She remembers the glow of the Hollywood bulbs illuminating her face, as she started to reapply her make up. She remembers a hand being laid on her shoulder, a firm squeeze, and a 'well done Vex, wonderful as always.' She remembers-

 Percy.

 Oh no. Percy.

 The world tilts as she quickly scrambles to stand.

 Her vision blurs as she looks around in panic. The square is barren, not a single soul around. Her eyes flick between lampposts to buildings to fences to-

 Vex.

 With a sudden movement, she stops.

 Vex. Down here.

 Slowly, she turns, her eyes drifting downwards. Looking at-

  Percy. Sitting down on the asphalt pavement, his head slumping forward. The shock of white hair, unusual for a man this young, is in disarray as usual. The way he is positioned almost reminds Vex of drunkards down in the Abadar’s Promenade, passed out against the pillars of the boardwalk.

  Well if it wasn’t for the massive sword sticking out of chest.

  Vex stares at it for a minute. The first thing she notices is the sheer size of it. It looks large and hefty, and would take someone of considerable strength to throw it, let alone impale it into-

 Oh.

  Vex remembers.

  B e f o r e[]

 The smoke billows out of his mouth as he exhales. He places the cigar in the tray, then looks up at her. His eyes are piercing red and sets her on edge.

 “Vex’ahlia. We have a proposition for you.”

 She grits her teeth. “Sorry Thordak, I’m not interested.”

 “Ah, but you see, your skills are crucial to the city’s success. We are simply offering you a method to amplify your skills, help more people than you already have.”

 “And make me disappear? Like you did with Gilmore? With Allura?” she growls, and snaps. “Like PIKE?”

 “Oh Vex, it was a necessary evil. We want things to be better, to have a bit of… what you say… control? Over things. This city changes at the whim of its occupants, with just a push of a metaphorical button. Things change too quickly, too chaotically.”

 With a sudden squeal of the chair metal, he stands up. She can see his hulking form, all broad shoulders and rippled muscle, towers over her.

 He leans forward, hands on the table, staring into her soul.

 “And I think it’s time.

 Time for It.

 To.

 Stop.”

  Fear courses through her body, and she glances quickly around the room for an exit. But at that moment-

  One.

 Two.

 Three.

 Four people step into the room.

  A familiar figure hisses to her left. “I had her. If only you had let me go through with my plan then we wouldn’t be in this situation.” Raishan, her insides twisting with anger and betrayal. She had just started to like her, always with flirtatious grins, and intelligent conversations.

 Thordak glares at her, casual air gone without a trace.

 “Well, I had hoped you would go peacefully Vex’ahlia, but alas-“

  With a sudden burst of speed, she gets up from the table and shoves it forwards. He falls with a yell, ashtray clattering on the floor. Her heartbeat thunders in her ears.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Run. Run. Run.

  The giant blocks her path. He reaches out to grab her. She turns to dodge, but it’s too late, and arms encase her, squeezing her until black spots obscure her vision. Despite struggling, legs kicking out to meet air, arms pushing against what seems like concrete blocks, she can’t escape.

 Thordak stands across from her a sword (iridescent, otherworldly) grasped in his hand. It glows a soft green, which would be calming, if it wasn’t about to kill her.

 His mouth is turned into a snarl as he barks, “Target acquired. Vex’ahlia Vessar. Collect trace.”

 He hefts the sword with only one hand, throwing it towards her pinned body. With the last of her strength, she tries to headbutt the giant’s head.

 But it’s no use.

 She shuts her eyes, waiting for the blow.

 …

 …

 “Vex!”

 Frantic steps. A body thrown in front of hers.

  Blood.

 Screams.

 Light.

   Vex remembers.

  N o w []

 She stands stock still, staring at Percy. Or, well, what used to be him. His now cold limp physical body. Rather than the turquoise-tinged, hefty, illuminated one he currently resided in. He sighs, the glow of the sword’s response lighting up her face again. One’s existence when you are dead is such a finicky thing to think about, Percy thinks.  

 Right. He’s dead.

 And Vex is still staring at him. Her skin has become grey-tinged, eyes wide and lips have pursed in a tight line. Her chest shudders as she breathes in, out.

  In.

 Out.

  She raises her hand to cover her mouth. It’s shaking.

 Oh no. Percy thinks. She’s going to cry.

  He’d do anything to make her stop.

  But instead he gives a deprecating chuckle and says, “Oh Vex, we’re not going to get away with this, are we?”

 She shakes her head, her mouth twitching in a pained smile. She breathes in; shutting her eyes, and breathes out hard with a sense of finality.

Leaning down, she grips the handle of the sword, and with a heave, wrenches it from the corpse that was his body. He wrinkles his metaphorical nose in disgust as he sees the gaping hole, completely cauterised, in his abdomen.

 “Ouch.”

 She huffs, sets him? The sword? Aside, before kneeling down before his body. Her eyes drink in his face, remembering every last inch of his face. Something she had done many times before. But this time her face morphs into a grimace, rather than a soft smile captured in the morning light. It hurt seeing that.

 “I guess my soul is trapped in this damn thing now. An exquisite piece of machinery, my final prison, how awfully poetic.Well, I guess it could always be worse.” 

Vex turns to the sword, unsmiling, but with a twinkle returning to her eyes. 

“Anyway Vex, could you take my glasses for me? I’m awfully fond of them.”

 A breathless laugh escapes from her lips, before slowly sliding them off his face.

 “Thank you.”

 Vex shuffles his body around until she can pull off his coat. It’s a long pea-coat, dark navy blue, with gold buttons and trim, and the collar was lined with fur (possum fur, Vex had insisted, not the typical bear fur or wolf pelt). She puts it on. It swallows her body, despite the fact that she was not small or scrawny at all. If this was a normal day, he’d tease her about it, putting on his bureaucratic posh accent that would always cause a deep laugh from her. But this wasn’t a normal day. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever have a normal day again.

 With aplomb, she settles next to his body on the concrete and starts to tear at the seams of the dress, tugging, tugging, until they snap. She goes about ripping the material off the bottom of her dress until it only falls to her knees.

 “I guess that dress is ruined for good. Or maybe you could start a new trend of ripped ball dresses.”

 Percy, she goes to say, but nothing comes out. She tries again. Nothing. Percy percy percy, she mouths. Percy PERCY PERCY PERCY-

 She tilts her face to the sky and yells but all that comes out is a rush of air. Her face contorts into a snarl and her hands curl into fists. She says a word that he can’t read off her lips but he has a pretty good idea what it is. He feels the same.

 “Thordak took your voice. How. Fucking. Rude.”

 She grips the hilt of the sword and stands up, back straight, a determined look on her face.

 “We’ll get it back, Vex. Among other things.”

 With a nod, they leave.

#critical role fic #perc'ahlia #percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo iii #vex'ahlia #my stuff #transistor #how the heck do you tag stuff #vexahliia

[eversansa]

a spell for your thoughts

Rating: G

Characters/Ships: Jitsui/Hatano, implied/hinted other ships.

Summary: Harry Potter AU. Hatano isn’t used to people being kind to him, or fussing over his well-being, but it’s a nice change. He secretly adores his new family, though he’d never say so to their faces. And life just becomes a bit sweeter when he meets Jitsui, a third year student who shares his mischievous, if wicked, sense of humor. 

Word Count: 999

Notes: I wouldn’t have posted this without everyone’s support and encouragement >w< especially @trepidationchance, who edited this fanfic and made it better! Thank you so much <3 

―First Year―

Hatano cradles his new kitten in his arms as he walks down the corridor. He had decided to name it Yoru, after the old black cat that skulked around his old neighborhood when he was younger.

Alain, his adopted brother, had gifted him Yoru on his first week of Hogwarts. He had congratulated him on getting into Gryffindor, though he would’ve preferred Hufflepuff himself so he could better look after him, to which Hatano responded by sticking his tongue out at him before Yoru stole his whole attention again.

Although, he did appreciate the sentiment. It still feels a tiny bit strange, being given more than a second thought.

But if that is only a tad strange, then Hogwarts is an alternate universe in space. Everything was different from what he was used to.

He hears a giggle, and it’s his only warning before he comes across a peculiar scene. Three Gryffindor boys are hanging upside down from their ankles in mid-air. An older Slytherin boy, who is far too pretty for his own good, leans against the wall facing them, nonchalantly twirling his wand in one hand and with the other currently holds three other wands, probably the Gryffindors’.

He wonders if he can walk past them.

On a closer look, Hatano recognizes them as the rowdy third years from breakfast earlier. They made quite the scene, with how they bragged they were going to get some Slytherin back for humiliating them on the train. He immediately knew what they were talking about, though he wasn't there when it happened; the news of it spread quickly throughout the train.

The Slytherin glances at him, eyes widening in surprise before they narrow mischievously. “Want to avenge your fellow Gryffindors?” He’s teasing him, yet there’s no real bite to it.

With a half-lidded gaze, Hatano shrugs as he walks in between them, casually scratching under Yoru’s chin. “Hah, why would I? It’s what they get for underestimating you.”

“Like a first year can be of any help,” one of the Gryffindors sneers, while another tries to grab Hatano as he passes through, but the Slytherin quickly puts a stop to that by a flick of his wand, getting a yelp in pain in return.

“Do you think there’s another punishment they deserve, first year?” the Slytherin asks invitingly.

Hatano is approaching the staircase when he halts. Is he implying what Hatano thinks he is?

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

He promised his older siblings he’d meet them by the lake for lunch. Marie said she missed Yoru, and wanted to see him again.

A creeping smile stretches across his lips, slow and wide. He turns back, absolutely gleaming. “They couldn’t fight their way out of a paper bag. It’d be a kindness to show them the… proper way. Turn a punishment into a lesson. It’s what they truly deserve.”

They could wait a few more minutes.

The Slytherin stares at him, almost in wonder, before smiling resolutely with a nod of his head. “How innovative. I like the way you think.”

He carelessly drops the wands to the floor, much to his victims’ chagrin, but he ignores them, and reaches out his hand. “I’m Jitsui, third year.”

Hatano steps closer as Yoru jumps up his arm to his shoulder, resting there as his tail swishes, and shakes his hand. “Hatano.”

“Hatano,” Jitsui says his name in delight. “I can tell we’re going to have tons of fun already.”

It’s the start of a fascinating, if eccentric, relationship.

―Fourth Year―

Everything is cloaked in snow. Pretty, and cold, and gothic.

Strolling beside him, Jitsui is observing Hatano as he walks on the low stone fence when he says, “Go out with me.”

Hatano slips on a frozen stone, but Jitsui reaches out to steady him, hand resting on his elbow.

He blinks owlishly down at him. No doubt he’s thinking how sudden this is, but it’s not. Jitsui’s been waiting for this opportunity since the beginning of the year.

“Okay,” Hatano says coolly as if the redness spreading across his face could only be from the cold, and the tiniest shake of his voice could’ve only been from Jitsui’s imagination. And if Jitsui were any bit unwise, he might’ve fallen for it.

A soft breeze plays with their hair as they both pretend their hearts aren’t racing, and in Jitsui’s case, pretending he’s not appreciating the way the wind swirls Hatano’s hair just right to frame his face.

―

Later in the Slytherin common room, four boys discuss Jitsui’s sad method of asking Hatano out.

“How anti-climactic,” Miyoshi says while focusing his attention on his hand-held mirror, inspecting the unsightly cracks caused by this morning’s run in. He has plenty more mirrors back in his room, but it’s of little consequence. He could’ve fixed it hours ago, but he liked watching Sakuma squirm as he was guilt-tripped into buying him a new one.

“You should’ve done something… different,” Tazaki agrees, though he hasn’t lifted his gaze once from his parchment, scribbling away at it. But he doesn’t seem too focused on completing his essay for Advanced Arithmancy class, even though it’s due in the morning.

Fukumoto is silent; probably ignoring them as he reads Enchantment in Baking.

The corner of Jitsui’s lips quirked into a small, yet devilish smile. “You’re absolutely right.” He lifts an eyebrow, and mockingly nods. “I should listen to you guys more often because you two actually managed to woo your crushes as well as take them out on dates. You even get to kiss them to your heart’s content!”

“Ouch,” Fukumoto says on behalf of their friends.

Tazaki pauses, side-eyeing him. “That wasn’t necessary, Fukumoto―” and to Jitsui, he gives him a pointed look. “―and it’s not a crush.”

“Not even a little bit,” Miyoshi adds, and unable to resist the easy dig against Tazaki, he continues. “At least, not for me~”

Jitsui finds himself secretly agreeing. Yes, it wasn’t a crush. Not anymore.

#joker game #hatano x jitsui #jitsui x hatano #lili writes #jg fanfic