#forgive me there was no bat emoji

[disasterbijedi]

Jensen + Misha: what if we 👉👈 guest starred 🤩 in season 2 of each other’s shows 🥷😇🤠

The CW sniper: cancels The Winchesters and Gotham Knights

[missbluesunflowersstuff]

Some batfamily headcanon

They all have auditory processing disorder at this point, except for Damian and Duke

Damian is the youngest and Bruce and the others protect him most and Duke uses armor plus his powers makes him a little difficult to get hurt

Dick is partially deaf in his left ear and Tim is partially deaf in his right ear

Bruce and Jason suffer from chronic pain

If Steph or Damian just stopped and went into some blank state for more than two minutes call the most responsible adult near immediately, they are having an anxiety attack (they just freeze and stare at nothing, this is their anxiety attack)

Tim has narcolepsy actually this is why he has the worst sleeping schedule of them all

(Tim's narcolepsy may be undiagnosed, diagnosed but his parents hid the result, Tim refuses to take his medication because he believes he can "handle" it, it's up to you)

Jason, Cass and Damian have PTSD

(all of them have it actually, but these three have the worst attacks)

Dick emergency contact is Donna Troy

and it doesn't matter what the batfamily do or say, Dick is always puts Donna as his emergency contact

Damian emergency contact is Maya Ducard

Damian had a lot of nightmares in him early years, the family takes turns to take care of it

Jason and Damian have intrusive thoughts (hurt the others and hurt themselves, Jason villain era was basically 'I let my intrusive thoughts win' ) - today Damian handled it better than Jason did in the past (Jason I love you, but I will never forgive you for what you did to Mia Dearden)

Bruce created a lot of personas for his work and because of it Dick created the "hamburger theory"

If he accepts the hamburger and eats it with both hands it's Batman; if he starts eating his hamburger with fork and knife it's Bruce Wayne; if he's holding the burger with a napkin and smile it's Brucie; but if he rejected the hamburger just run, it's not safe near him in that moment

Dick made this theory when he still was a Robin and this is some 'don't tell dad' information between all of the kids

They usually share information with Cass in audio to help her understand, Babs still helps her with how to read but she prefers to use emojis or audio messages

Cass may or may not respond to their audio, but she will view it

Bruce and the others have no clue about Dick real health status because the only person who has legal rights to it is Donna and she doesn't share with them

One time Tim tried to steal Damian medical records to put in their data, he found out that Maya already did that and now she is the only person in the world legally allowed to have that information

Both Dick and Damian don't regret their decision because they really trust in their sisters more than the bats

(and yes, Bruce feels breyated because of this)

14!Damian is still a little afraid of sleeping, because he doesn't know what kind of dream he might have (he doesn't have nightmares like he used to, but the anxiety is still there)

Duke and Damian usually hang out more than the others; one time Steph asks why in the common channel and Duke only answers "you know that me and him are basically immortals, right? When everyone leaves, we'll still be here" (Duke is immortal because of his powers and Damian... Do you really think his family would allow him die?)

No one knows exactly the kind of shit Damian was submitted in the league and as Tim falls in get his medical records they'll never knows

The same applicants for Cass trying, what exactly Cain did with her is something she'll never tell

Jason actually has amnesia from his league days or some kinda of weird and very selective amnesia, everything just looks like a blur to him

Jason believes that he was hypnotized to forget everything or some weird magic stuff. But on some nights, in the silence of his room, Jason still seems like a fat baby lying near him, he wonders who is the baby and who they are now...

Some days, because of his chronic pain, Bruce uses a cane to walk around the house, but only inside

[webslingingslasher]

trouble being super sick (100% projecting rn) and not telling peter and he hears about it from her roommate and he’s a little upset she didn’t say anything but is just super attentive even when trouble tells him to leave because he’ll get sick 🥲



my laptop isn't showing your emoji :( also- boyfriend frat!peter 🥹

you lightly stomp your foot, 'no! not allowed.' peter turned up at your door, unannounced, after two days of staying away. you were rotten with the flu, it sent your room mate to stay with her boyfriend for a few days.

her boyfriend was in peter's frat, and when he noticed ally staying over he asked if you had a fight, she lets him know you were dog sick and she wasn't catching it.

of course, he called you and you told him to stay away at all costs. you'd never forgive yourself if he got sick, you know how bad you feel and you wouldn't risk passng it to him.

but he couldn't stay away.

your boyfriend pressed his lips to your forehead, a pout formed. 'you're feeling pretty warm, trouble. have you taken your temperature?'

'no. just tylenol when i feel sweaty.' he tries to squeeze past you but you stop him, 'no, i'm not getting you sick.'

'honey, you can't take care of yourself right now, let me do it.'

'i'm fine and i'm not getting you sick.'

peter shakes his head, 'i won't get sick.' you huff at him, 'you don't know that, plus i feel gross and ugly.'

'you've never been more beautiful to me.'

'that's offensive.'

you whine when peter butts himself in, pointing you to your bed as he headed for your bathroom for a thermometer. you hear him open and close drawers, he emerges with a plethra of supplies.

peter drops everything to your desk and pulls out the thermometer, turning it on and shaking it in the air.

'symptoms?'

'um... fever, i think. body aches, headaches, stuffy nose. and i get really, really cold. i'm also super tired.'

'hungry?'

'not really.'

'eating?'

'... not really.'

'fluids?'

'kinda.'

'if the flu wasn't doing it first, i'd kill you.' your boyfriend holds the thermometer to your mouth, 'open, tongue up. hold it.' you watch him move around while you wait for the result.

he's lining up everything he was able to find, vapor rub, tylenol, mucinex and emergen-c. peter plucks the thermometer out of your mouth when it beeps.

a wrinkle forms between his eyebrows, 'my poor baby, one hundred one point four.' his hand cups your face, 'when's the last time you took the tylenol?'

'i dunno, three episodes worth of love island.' you nuzzle into his palm when he strokes your hair. 'alright, i'll give you some more.' you frown when he pulls away, feeling your heart swell when he refills your water bottle and passes it your way with two pills.

you sit up and take it, he kisses your forehead. 'sleepy?' you nod, 'take a nap, i'm gonna go get you some drinks from the dining hall. any requests?'

'juice.' another kiss, 'you got it, trouble.'

---

peter woke you a few hours later, you squinted and pushed him away.

'sorry, trouble. i need your temperature, and you need to eat something. i have crackers and gatorade.'

'apple juice.'

'apple juice after electrolytes.'

'no, i'm sick. apple juice.'

'anything you want, after electrolytes.'

you grumble when he holds out the thermometer, 'you hate me.'

'yeah, you're the worst. which one you want, blue or red?' you point to the one in his left hand, he cracks cap and sets it next to you, a sleeve of crackers following.

peter cheers when your fever dropped, 'ninety nine point six, you're my little fighter.' you bat at his shoulder when he kisses your cheek, closer to your mouth than you'd like.

'no! you'll get sick! and i haven't brushed my teeth.'

'i won't get sick, trouble. i've got super human immunity.'

you suppose he's right, you scooch over and pat the space next to you.

'cuddle me better?'

another kiss to your cheek, 'anything you want,' a kiss to your forehead, 'after electrolytes.'

[boxwinebaddie]

It’s totally understandable uncle Nina we appreciate you and are here for you<333

My question for pep Kyle, what was his perspective and view when he fought Stan? We know he has a huge soft spot for him and he would never do anything to purposely hurt him. Also if he ever found out about Stan’s gift (origami) what would be his reaction?

Take your time, don’t rush to answer

HYH💗💗

omgggg, please don't make me cry!!! you are so sweet! really, like, all of you have been so sweet to me about my update which means a lot to me because you all mean a lot to me <3 and i really hate letting you all down, but in an airplaine when the cabin pressure is low, they tell you to put the oxygen mask over yourself and then help others. so this is me, putting my oxygen mask on, then hopefully assisting you.

which! speaking of! thank you kindly for your question! i do have an answer and what an Answer it is, darling! xx

so, i know they were a hot mess, but the reason i even wrote/wanted to include the original chapters 11/12 of peppermint were because we only got to see stan's vers. of the days leading up to operation style.

and obviously, he was toiling away in acts of service/gift giving biboy hell making kyle 1005 origami paper cranes, fueled by fantastic visions of mean green eyed angel boys & true loves cherry nyquil kiss.

...but kyle didn't know that.

all that kyle knew was that his super best friend, the boy he's been in love with his entire life and his favorite person on planet earth just...stopped talking to him. no explanation. stan shut his phone off to focus on kyle and by accident, completely shut kyle out instead.

so kp's perspective of the fight or the kyle trial/denial, was that stan was acting...really weird. and i mean...Really, Reeeeallly, Weird.

because if we can recall, during the kyle trials, stan was flirting with kyle relentlessly, trying to get him to blush, touching his arms, standing way too close to him & overall just being a fucking Menace.

this, ofc, was strange to kyle, but he was trying not to overthink it because when he overanalyzes every little thing stan does and tries to use those things to prove the unprovable theory -- that stan's secretly in love with him -- he just gets really depressed & miserable.

so, that happening was weird enough...

...but then it stopped.

from kyle's perspective, stan went from being around him 25/8, every waking moment, texting him 34634983 times a day, one million emojis, breathing down his neck, carrying his books, bothering him, batting eyelashes at him...to going completely ghost.

stan who would make dumb excuses to get kyle to keep talking to him was making dumb excuses to Not keep talking to him. and that was when they were talking. because stan stopped talking to him after that. he said he had food poisoning and went dark.

and that...put the fear of god into kyle.

so while stan was pretending to be sick w/ food poisoning to avoid telling kyle he was actually lovesick/throwing up abt kyle, kyle was WORRIED SICK about stan, in a constant state of panic because stan just stopped texting him, stopped responding, stopped being his sbf.

and i had a lot of people be like 'okay, but nina if kyle knew that stan was having an episode, why was he still mad at stan' like??

because he'd had ENOUGH you guys!!!! kyle spent his Whole Life loving stan, taking care of stan, bending over backwards for him, dropping everything for him, forgiving him for everything and enough was enough, you know? he just...Broke. it was the final straw for him.

and when i tell you that through every single stan spin cycle, he has texted kyle good morning and good night, every single day since seventh grade, you guys. they talk for hours, they are attached at the hip, they are litrlly co-dependent super boy best friends in hellschool. like what kyle as saying is that stan...has never shut him out before. not like that. even during a depressive episode, stan will text kyle a sad face or 'hi :/' or something like...he has never...for multiple days just not texted kyle or spoken to him. At All.

and to his knowledge, stan suddenly wanted nothing to do with him, and here was tolkien, being super kind to him, doting on him, fucking worshiping him, actually asking him out on a date

( also i wrote this weird section [ before i stopped and scrapped it ] that was going to go into old 11 if i had space...originally i was going to write in that whole part i summarized in the bebe chap where kp was at tolkiens house filmin the tiktok...sum boy drama in there. )

and kyle was still!!! thinking about stan!!! like tolkien black was literally kissing him on the lips and kyle smelled pepper fucking mint and swore in his emo-boy aroused BRAIN that stan was there and lke could not even enjoy that moment -- for the second time. like tolkien kissed kyle twice and he was thinking about stan!!! BOTH TIMES

and that was frustrating to him, you know? like he feels pathetic about it because here he is, like every other day of his life, chasing after his best friend, being in love with him, giving stan a million chances and just watching stan run past him in the hallways, like desperate to get away from him??? like that is seriously painful. kyle never told stan he was in love with him because he was scared it would ruin their friendship, but now it was like...his super best friend in the whole world...didn't want to be friends with him anymore???

and wouldn't tell him why.

AND IN KYLES PERSPECTIVE, IT WAS THEIR 12TH SUPER BEST FRIENDAVERSEY WHICH EVEN W A PEP!STAN LEVEL OF ADHD HE HAS NEVER ONCE FORGOTTEN...AND STAN FORGOT!!!!

like when i tell you that kyle was DEVASTATED. like kyle fighting with stan in the hall...it wasn't out of anger, like he was so miserable. it was because he was desperate to know what the hell was going on. it was from a place of pure fucking hurt that he was yelling at stan. also stan LIED TO HIM? stan has never ever once lied to him!!!! like stan had to find out from other people that he was not sick, when kyle spent DAYS worried about him like...HE WAS HEARTBROKEN!!!!

edit: also...i had kyle shove stan. i'm taking it out. i put it in there for drama but i literally don't think kyle would lay a finger on stan. so i'm nixing that its no longer canon.

BUT ANYWAYS!

so, yeah. kyle was hard on stan even during an episode, but he had to put his foot down and i think that your best friend seemingly ignoring you for several weeks, lying to you and not speaking to you once on your 12th sbfaversey and actively avoiding you??? is a pretty good reason to publicly super worst break up tbh.

the worst part too is that if stan had said...anything. quite literally anything in response that would have explained anything, kyle would have folded like all those little paper cranes. but he didn't, so kyle was just like i cannot keep living like this??? like it is very exhausting and embarrassing to love someone who is running away from you.

after the friendship bracelet incident, he did sit in his room, crying loudly to taylor swift in stans stupid cure sweatshirt. he was SAD. like kyle was wallowing, he wanted to run back so BAD, but like if he runs back, its a vicious cycle like: he put the oxygen mask over himself. :(

okay, as far as the last part of the ask goes with the cranes, i have another ask about that and it's later on so i'll have to go into that more later...but what i can tell you is that...

if we can recall, stan ran crying out of that school, took the wish jar out of his backpack and CHUCKED IT into the trash but...

no body, no crime.

we didn't hear it smash, now did we, girls, gays and theys?

because it did not smash.

and better yet? it was secretly fished out of the trash...

by kenny. <3

[nottheweirdest]

I’d love to know both of these, but if you’d rather only answer one please pick the one you prefer!

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter? 🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

Hi there!! I'm absolutely delighted and happy to answer as many questions as you have! 💖

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

This definitely depends on the depth and length of the fic/chapter. Clean Slate took me a year and a half to write, but I should be finished with Coming Home by mid March and that with my job being bat shit crazy. I'd say for a 4k chapter, if I were to sit down and work on it straight through (this never happens lol) I'd spend probably 5-7 hours on it. That involves writing it, going through two rounds of edits on my own, sending it to my beta and then incorporating her edits. I spend way too much time making the words feel right lol sometimes they have to flow in a certain way or my brain just won't let it go lol.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

Definitely romance, soul mates, loneliness, loss, identity, mistakes, forgiveness, found family. For imagery I used lots of sunsets, star gazing and my scenes can include lots of storms.

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

[neonghostcat]

Thwarted by Reason

(In which I ramble about upcoming SVSSS fanfics. ;) Cut for the sake of your dashboards.)

It is, indeed, a tragic life a writer leads. Particularly the life of a fanfic writer, if Author's Notes are anything to go by.

If you are not beset with life's little calamities and delayed six hours from posting the newest chapter because a meteorite crashed into your car and exploded the neighborhood into a fireball that still rages (so please forgive the dreadful delay), then things like (ugh!) "practicality" and "the time-space continuum" forbid you working on a project you just thought up.

TL;DR: I want to write for LiuShen Week 2022, but I could instead, y'know not try to force myself to hurry and complete a fic that will inevitably rush through the story just to meet the deadline.

That means... I could just write it at a more normal pace and really linger into those bits and pieces that are tasty for me (the writer) and hopefully also you (the reader).

Here's the concept I came up with:

(Working Title: Joint Custody)

Standard Opening: Shen Yuan transmigrates into PIDW and is told, "Fix this."

SY, being genre-savvy, expects he's meant to take the original PIDW plot and fix all of the plot holes and things that make a reader like himself table-flip in rage.

Only... no.

He's instead dropped into the body of Shen Qingqiu, who has joint-custody with Liu Qingge over which Peak Luo Binghe will end up on after he turns 16, the deadline Yue Qingyuan gave for him deciding.

This works out overall better for Binghe because while the disciples of both peaks don't really consider him "one of their own" and as such no one but NYY befriends him, no one is inclined to bully him either.

Plus SQQ can't bully him, because that would definitely make him choose Bai Zhan and he can't abide losing to LQG so easily.

So SQQ just ignores Binghe, being icy-cold to him when he can't.

LQG neglects him in his own way, basically just because he's off doing LQG things and not out of malice. It's just how he runs his peak.

Binghe grows up more akin to Bingge - a little wolf who plays at being the white sheep.

So that's why when SY pops in and his 'perfect' Shizun starts acting weird because he clearly has huge gaps in his memory, he takes particular interest in fucking with him.

Basically, Binghe bats his beautiful starry sheep eyes at SQQ and starts shit between him and LQG, doing the whole manipulative brat playing one divorced parent off of the other to get extra attention from both.

And suddenly Binghe is soaked with attention and decides to himself, "Gosh, wouldn't it be great if both my dads got together so even when I eventually choose a peak I'd still have them both and would never lose this?"

For the curious - that's exactly how I brainstorm my stories - bullet-points with memes. I basically just made the version I'm posting here a little more readable without my shorthand stuffed into it. ;) (My outlines are pretty much the same, only I'd be breaking down the different events involved.)

SO - yes. That is now a story that's in the queue of stories I intend to write. But after I finish Cultivate.

Speaking of which:

Cultivate! I re-read what I had the other day and had one of the most annoying feelings you can have as a writer: "AAaaah I am enjoying this - where is the rest of it so I can read it???"

(Keep in mind that the following assumes you have at least a basic understanding of what Cultivate is. You can find more information in the blog entries listed here, but the summary should do ya. I put an 📓 emoji next to the entries that feature excerpts from my draft you can read.)

So far Cultivate features:

Two POVs (Shen Yuan's + Liu Qingge's) that switch arbitrarily to whomever's POV would be most entertaining or interesting.

Multiple running gags that make me giggle. (This is probably the story that has the most overt comedy of my SVSSS fics.)

Shen Yuan is a silly fucking bastard when he doesn't have to pretend to be SQQ, he of dignity and respectability.

Liu Qingge looking around SY's little home base and thinking, "Bitch, you live like this? Better take care of you because you are helpless."

Shen Yuan is: Snow White

Gratuitous paeans on the charms of both of our heroes.

The death throes of The Original Plot, only to have it threaten to come back as a zombie thirsty for vengeance.

A surprising amount of creepiness for something that's mostly fluff. (I'm considering tagging it with "mild horror elements".)

You thought I did worldbuilding before? Hold on to your socks.

Shen Yuan using knowledge gleaned from his geeky interests to try to live the Stardew Valley/Harvest Moon/Rune Factory slowlife.

It is still shocking to me that I'm ~10 chapters in and it still feels like the story just got started. I may need to post them two chapters a week just so I'm not posting on the same story for years, if ~40k really is only "just beginning" the story...

Anyway - 'tis a horrendous fate. Lament, lament the tyranny of time; etc, etc. etc.

[havokzsys]

tbh i dont actually remember when i first met you bc it feels like we've been friends for so so so long but i think i met 📦 first and that was just like . instant besties like it was so cool to meet you and like right off the bat i knew you were this really genuine and very chill person and i knew i wanted to hang around you more and i think i also met 🎙️and 💫 (are those the right emotes forgive me if i forgor i have the memory of a worm) and they were super cool too and made chat better :DDD and of COURSE !!! 🧵 it was SUCH a surprise to meet you but im so glad you're here gen you are such a good friend and parental figure i love seeing you in chat sm gen

so like anyways idk if this is what that other post was asking but got im so glad i met you pos aff youre such great friends 💚💚💚

YOU MADE STANLEY CRY1 [POS] WE'RE ALL VERY GLAD WE MET YOU TOO, WHOEVER YOU ARE. EVERYONE WE KNOW IS REALLY NICE AND WE'RE SO GRATEFUL FOR YOU ALL.

[AND YEAH, YOU GOTT NARRATORS EMOJIS RIGHT. IT USED TO BE 💫 BUT HE SWAPPED IT OUT FOR🎙]

[tiredrobin]

Scrangle: I was different, too. I was bigger than this. Bigger than this whole world. I remember…flailing. Feeling things crumble and tear apart as I went. Scrangle: When I felt things break, that was how I knew I still existed.

@sporesgalaxy

[custom-emojis]

hiyo, i keep feeling bad because i had a very toxic friend, and i'm fairly sure she had bpd and it was influencing how she treated me, but i've seen so many people with bpd say how people leaving them can be really hurtful, and i feel bad. i understand supporting people with bpd, but i feel like if someone is really putting someone else through shit, asking them to suffer through that just because the person had bpd would be wrong, right?

like, ofc bpd isn't evil, and neither are people who have it, but if someone is dealing with their illness by hurting others instead of focusing on their own healing, that's their fault and i feel like no one should have to stay with a toxic friend just for fear that if they don't they're being ableist because their toxic friend has a mental illness.

i'm not saying this is your belief, but it's the sentiment i've received heavily from a lot of the posts i've seen about people breaking off friendships with people who have bpd, and it made me feel bad for doing that to my friend because i start to think i should've tolerated her toxicity because she was struggling with her mental health, and i don't want to feel like a bad person for prioritizing my own. so... it wasn't wrong of me to do that, right? i know she was struggling and couldn't control what she was struggling with, but i'm not a bad person for not excusing that or forgiving her, am i? sorry, i know this is super random and if it makes you uncomfy i'm very sorry, i just thought since you have bpd, if you give an answer to it i would trust you, idk.

Anon. First off im going to tell you off the bat this was a very fucking shitty ask to send me. and as a warning for my followers: I WILL be unapologetically angry over this.

First off, anon, lets get the elephant in the room out of the way: anybody can leave any kind of relationship they want, for any reason. even if its NOT toxic or abusive, if you want to leave someone and they happen to have bpd. you're in your full right to do that.

now. with that out of the way: you say

"i'm fairly sure she had bpd and it was influencing how she treated me"

Now, 'fairly sure' isn't the same as 'she has bpd'. DOES she have bpd? or are you just ASSIGNING her bpd because she was abusive and controlling?

"like, ofc bpd isn't evil, and neither are people who have it, but if someone is dealing with their illness by hurting others instead of focusing on their own healing, that's their fault and i feel like no one should have to stay with a toxic friend just for fear that if they don't they're being ableist because their toxic friend has a mental illness."

first off, if your sentence starts with 'bpd isnt evil and neither are the people who have it, BUT" then thats probably not a good start. secondly, yeah. obviously. no fucking shit. if someone is being, you know. ABUSIVE. then they're abusive, regardless of their mental illness. and nobody should have to stay with them.

"i'm not saying this is your belief, but it's the sentiment i've received heavily from a lot of the posts i've seen about people breaking off friendships with people who have bpd, and it made me feel bad for doing that to my friend because i start to think i should've tolerated her toxicity because she was struggling with her mental health, and i don't want to feel like a bad person for prioritizing my own"

You sure as fuck made it seem like you think thats my belief. Heres a little tidbit for you: "Anybody can leave anybody they want, for any reason, regardless of anything" and "people who have BPD do find abandonment to be extremely upsetting and sometimes downright traumatizing" are sentances that can and do co-exist. Even so. Even if some weird ass people WERE ever actually implying that: that is ENTIRELY not my fucking problem. Literally. I do not know you. We are strangers. I am a stranger to you.

so... it wasn't wrong of me to do that, right? i know she was struggling and couldn't control what she was struggling with, but i'm not a bad person for not excusing that or forgiving her, am i? sorry, i know this is super random and if it makes you uncomfy i'm very sorry, i just thought since you have bpd, if you give an answer to it i would trust you, idk.

No! it wasnt! and also, I'm not your fucking therapist! Me off handedly mentioning i have bpd and that my fp left me is NOT me opening the doors to you traumadumping on me and asking invasive and uncomfortable things about my complex trauma disorder!

people fucking demonize cluster-Bs enough as it is, why the fuck should i have to essentially coddle you and take the fall as someone with bpd just because your abuser had it.

you didnt deserve your abuse, nobody does! but its not my fucking job as a random stranger running an EMOJI BLOG who just so happened to offhandedly mention my bpd due to the relevance to a video game, to be a monolith for all those with bpd and try to convince people who already hate us due to stigma the very basic concept of 'we can be hurt by things, and our pain can be extremely irrational. and thats kind of the entire fucking point of the disorder, the fact that its irrational and a whole Problem. but we are not inherently abusive because of this, and evenif our pain is irrational or unfair we are still allowed to feel that pain as long as we understand where its coming from and how to deal with it. and we're allowed to express that pain'

and then, even further ontop of that. I literally said said fp was bad. they hurt me in other ways.

this is all in all, one of the most frustrating asks i think ive ever gotten.

you're not ableist for leaving them but you sure as fuck are by sending me this ask

[frostedfaves]

for soft/smutty sunday, soft dom tony stark & slightly bratty reader with a praise kink

Anonymous said: How Tony would react to bratty reader teasing him during a meeting

-

A/N: decided to combine these, hope that’s okay! also completely forgot to include the praise kink please forgive me (Sundayyy)

warnings: sexting, spanking, dom/sub, 18+ ONLY

Tony frowned when his phone vibrated in his pocket, stealthily slipping it into his lap instead. He resisted the urge to sigh as he read the message, instead turning to meet your eyes across the table. You held your smirk as you turned back to your phone, and he looked down to see three more messages come in, each one filthier than the last.

He sent you a thumbs up emoji before turning off his phone completely, biting back a chuckle as he caught your reaction in the corner of his eye. For the rest of the meeting his attention was on Fury, but both of you knew his mind was locked in on your dirty words. The rest of the team filed out of the room silently as Fury dismissed them, Tony grabbing the waistband of your skirt to pull you back in before locking the door.

“Nice try,” he huffed when you batted your eyelashes at him with false innocence. “Over the table.”

You scurried to the spot where Fury stood minutes ago, pulling your skirt up and bending over the table. Tony let out a chuckle at your unsurprising lack of underwear, instructing you to count the twenty spanks he evenly distributed to your bare cheeks. He left gentle kisses over the sore skin when he finished, smiling as you turned to watch him unbuckle his belt.

“Now what were you saying you wanted me to do?”

[hawkbucks]

I don't even remember if I reposted it, but here's the WinterIron fake dating AU that I found on my disc drive. I combined all the posts in one; where there's a divider, that means it was a new post.

Lotta fake dating fics have Tony be the one who asks Bucky and I love it, but also: Bucky being the one asking Tony?

Like, maybe Rebecca is getting married and she asks him “are you bringing anyone?” with the most hopeful look on her face.

Bucky sorta bluescreens and stutters out a “yeah” because he knows Rebecca really wants to see him with someone and happy, but he’s only really been focusing on his studies instead of his social life.

She smiles and claps her hands together, exclaiming her excitement to meet Bucky’s date! Meanwhile, Bucky is panicking on the inside.

He could ask Steve, considering that he and Steve are best friends and no one would really question them getting together, but there’s also the fact that Rebecca knows Steve better than Steve probably knows himself and would tell they’re faking right off the bat.

There’s Sam who, despite their teasing relationship, they really do like each other. He wouldn’t have too much of a problem bringing Sam around if he doesn’t already know that Sam would hang this over his head for the rest of his life and all but force Bucky to buy him food and clothes and stuff to repay him, and that’s not even talking about the endless teasing.

There’s Sharon, but she wouldn’t agree. She’d just roll her eyes and call him dramatic. It’s a fair judgement.

There’s Natasha, and they’ve actually dated before and that would be awkward. “Oh yeah, the girl I used to date back when I was a sophomore in high school and I are back together again!”

He still ends up texting Steve and explaining his dilemma and please, Steve, do you know anyone?

Steve tells him he’s an idiot which, fair, yeah, but then he tells Bucky that he knows a guy, cute, your type, I can give him your number. Then he sends Bucky a photo of himself and some other guy with brown hair and pretty eyes and dimples, what the fuck.

Please give him my number.

I can feel your thirst, Steve texts. Disgusting.

So, he brings Tony (all it took was confirming that there was going to be food and that yeah, they have salmon as a menu item, is that what you want me to pick?), and Tony’s a hit! He’s charming, polite, and pretty cute to boot.

Then Rebecca corners Bucky during the reception while Tony’s getting some cupcakes and Bucky immediately jumps to the conclusion that Rebecca figured out that they’re not actually dating and she’s about to tear him a new one, but she smiles and gives him a bear hug. “Your boyfriend is a sweetheart,” she gushes, “and I’m glad you brought him along. And, you know, Robert and I are having a party for Thanksgiving. Maybe you two would like to come?”

And the only thing that runs through Bucky’s head is shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—

Bucky can’t handle these feelings. He just can’t. It’s too much too soon, and the intensity at which he feels them is both overwhelming and terrifying to him, especially since he and Tony haven’t even known each other for that long.

During the party, Tony really pushes the act. He takes Bucky’s arm and places it around his shoulders, feeds Bucky some pumpkin pie, blushing when Rebecca coos at the both of them, and even sits on Bucky’s lap when everyone heads to the couch to catch the recording of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade that Rebecca set.

And Bucky desperately wishes it was all real. He wishes that Tony really is in love with him as opposed to doing this to help out. He’s never felt warmer than when Tony smiles at him, bright and genuine and making him ache all over. He knows that his feelings are only going to keep snowballing and snowballing until he can’t take it anymore and snaps and confesses to Tony, and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want Tony to feel obligated to go out with him. He doesn’t want Tony to feel like he’s being put on the spot.

Tony cuddles closer to him, whispering about how the Snoopy float looks really cute. He chokes down a sob and responds with “yeah, doll, it does”.

Bucky drives Tony home. He always does. It’s the least he can do. “So, when are you going to need a boyfriend again?” Tony teases, feet up on the dashboard. They’re already at Tony’s apartment complex, but Tony, infuriatingly attractive Tony, insists on talking to him. “If you’re swinging by Becca’s for Christmas, I can come with you.”

He doesn’t respond, instead choosing to continue looking ahead and squeezing his hands on the steering wheel. “Hey, you alright?” Tony asks softly and, god, he wishes Tony wasn’t the way he was.

Rip it off. Like a band-aid. C’mon, Barnes. “It’s fine. I’ll just tell her we broke up.”

“What?” Tony’s voice wavers, an undercurrent of hurt swimming below that one word. Bucky hates himself for it. “Did I do something wrong? At the party? I—”

Bucky sets his jaw, looking at Tony (and wishing he didn’t because Tony actually looks devastated). “We were never really together, Tony. Don’t act like it matters.”

He hears a hitch in Tony’s breath. He looks away. “Yeah, I guess it doesn’t.” Tony unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the car door. “Maybe this is why you don’t have an actual boyfriend.” It hurts, but it’s better that Tony leaves hating him because he can’t imagine the breakdown he’d have if Tony kept coming around with those kicked puppy eyes of his and asking why Bucky has been avoiding him.

Tony walks into his apartment complex without looking back.

Bucky thinks he needs to get drunk.

And that’s how Steve finds him. Completely sloshed, half-sitting half-lying on the couch with red-rimmed eyes and a tear-stained hoodie. “St’ve,” he slurs, lifting his bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

Steve sighs. “What, did Becks show everyone your baby pictures again?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Fucked up.”

“Yeah, I can see that. At least save some of that for me.”

He shakes his head again. “Tony hates me.”

Steve freezes, halfway through shucking off his jacket. “What did you do?” He looks at Bucky with that Disappointed Parental Stare of his.

“He hates me.” Bucky feels himself start to tear up again as he reminds himself that he won’t be able to see Tony again. Won’t be able to breathe in the comforting smell of that vanilla and cinnamon lotion that he’s so fond of. “Made ‘im hate me.”

“Why in the hell would you do that?” Steve gets his jacket off this time, throwing it on the hook and not paying it any attention when it slips off and falls to the floor with a thud.

“Don’t know.” Which is a lie. He knows why. He just doesn’t want to face it.

“No, no, you don’t get to feign ignorance.” Steve walks over and takes the bottle from him, ignoring Bucky’s protests and whines and taking a few swigs of his own. “I’ve only seen you get this drunk twice before: the first was when you and Nat broke up and you broke into your dad’s liquor cabinet, and the second was when you came home from the army. Considering I don’t see your fatigues with you—”

Bucky growls weakly. “Shut up, Steve—”

“Then stop pushing people away,” Steve growls right back. “You fix this.”

“We didn’t ev’n know each other that long—”

“No, you might not have, but if you’re sitting here on our couch, drunk off your ass ‘cause you think he hates you, that means something. Fix. This.”

Then Steve’s phone goes off. He sets down the Jack and he fishes his phone out of his pocket. A swipe, and it’s unlocked. He snorts, shaking his head. “You know who just texted me?”

Hope. “Tony?”

“No. His best friend. You want to know what it says?”

Bucky doesn’t think his answer matters much. Something tells him Steve will tell him even if he says no. “Go.”

Steve clears his throat. “’Hope your buddy is happy. Tony won’t stop crying.’ Then some middle finger emojis. Seven of them, to be exact.”

Bucky sinks further into the couch, his stomach twisting into knots and nausea rising up his throat now that he knows Tony is crying and he’s the reason why. He makes a swipe at the Daniels, but is unable to reach far enough. “You gon’ reply?” he croaks.

“Oh, yeah. I’m gonna tell him that you’re being miserable, too. And that you’re an idiot.”

Bucky grunts.

“It’s for your own safety. Believe me, if he thinks you’re getting your jollies from this, he’ll send you on a one-way ticket to hell.”

He grunts again. That’s only mildly terrifying. And probably not even close to what he thinks he himself deserves. “You gon’ leave?”

“Yes. And I’m taking this—” Steve picks up the Jack— “with me.”

True to his word, Steve leaves with the bottle of Jack.

Bucky sits up and uses the sleeves of his hoodie to dry his eyes. He tries to keep quiet as he sobs.

The next day, he goes out, stretches his legs after spending the entire night on his couch. He contemplates going to visit Tony and beg for his forgiveness, but it’s… it’s probably too soon. He’ll just wait. In the meantime, he picks up a plush of Snoopy holding a heart. It’s cute.

1 week. He thinks he’ll wait a little more.

2 weeks. Maybe just a bit more.

(Rebecca calls. Asks him about Tony. He says that they broke up. She only replies with a small I’m sorry. It was clear that you two loved each other.

He bites his lip so hard that he tastes copper.)

3 weeks. It’s just a bit before Christmas. Steve comes into his room. “Rhodes texted me. He said Tony admitted that he wants to see you again. Apparently he passed on my word that you were being pretty gloomy about it too.”

Bucky fidgets on his bed. “So, what, I’m just supposed to roll up on his apartment with some flowers and chocolate?”

“Sarcastic bastard,” Steve mutters, although there’s no real venom behind his words. “It’d be a start.”

Bucky thinks for a second. He gets up and starts rifling through his closet. “Alright. Leave so I can change.” Thankfully, Steve obliges. Bucky tucks the Snoopy into his backpack.

He picks up some Ferrero Rocher. He remembers Tony eating them by the handful at the reception. It’s packaged in a transparent box shaped like a heart. For the flowers, he picks up some red roses, the classic choice. He even gets a card that says “I’M SORRY!” with a picture of a sad-looking cat on it.

“Girlfriend troubles?” the cashier asks as they ring him up.

“Boyfriend, actually,” he replies, surprised at how easily that rolls off his tongue.

They hum. “Hope it gets better soon, man.”

He hopes so too. “Thanks.”

Somehow, he manages to make the drive to Tony’s apartment without crashing the car. 6339. He remembers Tony telling him his apartment number if he ever wanted to come up and visit. Looks like he’s finally taking him up on that offer.

Before his nerves can take over and tell him to run and maybe flee the country, he takes the elevator up after explaining to the concierge that he’s there to visit a friend. He knocks on Tony’s door, holding the flowers up in front of his face, the Snoopy plush sitting on top of them along with the card. The box of chocolates he holds behind his back.

When he hears the door open, he pulls the flowers down just enough to see over them. “Hi.”

“Bucky,” Tony breathes out. He looks like he’s about to start crying again, clad in his donut-patterned pajama pants and an oversized shirt that advertises a noodle place that Bucky passed on his way. (Seriously. So many tears!) “Why’re you here?”

“To say sorry.” Bucky holds the flowers out.

“What you said really hurt,” Tony says, voice cracking, but he takes the flowers. “You got me a Snoopy?” He takes the plush off of the bouquet and smiles softly at it before looking back up at Bucky, expression holding cautious hope. He places Snoopy back in the bouquet.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was… I don’t know, scared. Not that I’m tryin’ to come up with an excuse for myself, but… you know.” He shows Tony the chocolates this time.

“Scared?” Tony takes the chocolates like he took the flowers.

“I really like you, Tony. I was thinking about asking you out for real after the party,” Bucky admits, looking Tony in the eye and hoping that Tony can see that he’s being genuine. His palms start getting clammy. Is the temperature rising or is it just him? “And I was scared.”

“Why?” Tony asks, sounding on the edge of desperation. “Why were you so scared you couldn’t just tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to feel obliged to say yes.”

Tony tilts his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed as a frown tugs at his lips.

Bucky begins to regret his answer. Obviously it isn’t one that Tony likes.

“Is that it?” Tony sounds gentle. So gentle. “I like you too, you know. And you know I’m not a pushover. If I didn’t want to go out with you, I would’ve told you that.”

“I know. I know, but I never said my mind was good at thinking rationally.” The corner of Bucky’s mouth quirks up at the self-deprecation.

“Mine isn’t either.” Tony places the chocolates with the card and the Snoopy in the bouquet, using that now free hand to wipe at his eyes. His sniffles. “And I have to apologize too. For what I said before I left your car.”

“It’s fine, Tony—”

“No, it’s not. It was such an asshole thing to say.” Tony sounds upset on Bucky’s behalf.

“I made you angry.”

“That didn’t give me the right to imply that you’re unlovable.” Tony stares at him in silent challenge. Try and refute me, his eyes say. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky shakes his head, knowing there’s only one way to end this. “I accept your apology.”

“And I accept yours.” Tony smiles at him, nose tinged with pink, and a burst of warmth spreads in Bucky’s chest. It’s gratifying to see that smile directed his way again. He just might join Tony in sniffling if this continues.

Tony reaches out to grab his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Why don’t you come inside? I can make you some coffee.”

“I’d like that,” Bucky says, squeezing Tony’s hand once. “I’d like that a lot.”

—

If you guys are curious, I listened to this song on repeat while doing this lol. (The link should lead to a video with the English translation!)

[ghosthan]

what would you say are the differences between 616 Tony and MCU Tony? 🤔

Hi anon! Many people have talked about this and I'm certainly not the authority on the topic, but I’ll try my best to explain some of the major differences that I have noticed! Thank you for asking and I’m sorry it took me so long to answer you.

Important to note: neither version of Tony has had a totally consistent characterization. Depending on who you ask and which comics/movies they've consumed, they might give you a different answer here and not be wrong.

616 Tony is even harder to put into one box because his character has been around since Tales of Suspense in the 1950s. That’s a long time. Things have changed over time, under different writers, changing political atmospheres, and outside pop culture influence (including influence from the MCU, unfortunately, in recent years.) You get the picture. So I’ll be making some generalizations and try to be clear about which eras I’m speaking when I make these comparisons, but ultimately, if someone wanted to be contrarian, you could probably refute a lot of what I say here if you cherry pick canon. Which is fair enough! That’s sort of the fun of comics, there’s so much to choose from and something for everyone.

So here are some observations from me, under the ‘read more’.

1. Physical Appearance

This is sort of an easy one, but worth mentioning!

MCU Tony does not look like 616 Tony. RDJ is great, but he would not be most 616 fans’ casting choice on looks alone. MCU Tony is tan, a Malibu man, with brown hair and brown eyes, and RDJ has sort of round facial features (a funny sloped nose, big, round eyes, round forehead, not a particularly sharp or classically “superhero masculine” face.) As you may know, this lends well to certain fanworks and tropes, such as Tony having Bambi eyes.

Or Tiny Tony. He is not actually canonically small, but he's smaller in the MCU than in 616 and from what I can tell, a portion of fandom has latched onto that. He’s a grown man, but RDJ is pretty short, and of slighter build than 616 Tony. RDJ is 5′9, but they make him act in heels, and I believe his canon MCU height is 5′11. Another popular trope I’ve seen is shrinking Tony in fanfic/fanart for a dramatized height difference with Steve, making him weak or fragile; this is fine because everyone has their own taste, but for the official record, he’s a capable, strong guy! Especially in earlier stages of the MCU, in which he’s a bit younger. Tony isn’t just a brain; he carries out his plans with his own two hands! He builds his armor, he remodels his lab, he survives hand to hand combat when he doesn’t have the armor. Muscles!

616 Tony is 6′1 without armor and 6′6 in armor (making him taller than his 616 Steve counterpart in armor and very close to the same height out of armor!) 616 Tony is generally paler with black hair (sometimes the classic blue-black I love so much) and blue eyes, and it obviously depends on the artist, but he has a pretty typically ‘masculine’ face and build. Generally he is drawn with a squared jaw and a high bridged nose (such as in the Extremis storyline, or drawn by Marquez), but again, this varies from artist to artist! Here's some examples of 616 Tonys.

Wait, you might be saying, but I have seen comic panels where Tony has brown hair/brown eyes!

Yep. Due to a combination of forgetfulness, inconsistency, and the MCU bleeding into the general consciousness of the comics, sometimes Tony is randomly depicted in the image of RDJ, or if not in his image, at least visually inspired by the MCU-- hair color and style, eye color, dialogue, etc.

616 fans don’t typically love this; he’s very handsome when drawn this way, of course, (look at him!) But it isn’t really the same character.

Also, MCU Tony has (at least for some of his movies) a reactor built into his chest. While 616 Tony has, at times, been more or less physically connected/dependent to his tech, he doesn’t have the built in reactor (most generally speaking, there are times in comics when he temporarily has the tech built in, but this isn’t really the status quo.)

2. Relationship with parents/ family history

While it is definitely implied in the MCU that Howard was not a good father to Tony, (such as in Iron Man 2 when Tony says “You're talking about a man whose happiest day of his life was shipping me off to boarding school” and “He was cold, calculating, never told me he loved me, never even told me he liked me”), Tony has a different sort of attitude toward Howard in MCU than in 616. It’s kind of weird, and hard to discuss. To me, it seems implied that MCU Howard was emotionally abusive to Tony based on what Tony does say about his childhood, and yet, the films kind of randomly give Howard weird moments of “Well, he tried his best and deep down he loved me the whole time!” forgiveness. MCU has a Howard kink and I'm very cringe-face emoji about it.

For example, Iron Man 2 shows that old film reel of Howard talking about how Tony is the greatest thing he ever created, and in Endgame, when Tony goes back in time, he meets Howard and has a very weird interaction with him in which Howard declares he would do anything for his son, (to his deeply damaged son who is a new father himself.) Yet, for all his talk, it's his actions that speak, and his actions left Tony damaged, traumatized, and emotionally inept at forming healthy relationships. So.

Sorry. I’m a little bitter. I'm just uncomfortable with how they sort of set up an abuse history but then treated it kind of lightly and Howard gets off the hook as "well, he tried his best" without really acknowledging the hurt he caused.

Avengers: Endgame 2019

I won't go super in depth into the abuse stuff because it's a little touchy and could take up a lot of this post. But.

I’m not against any reconciliation and I do appreciate the fact that a lot of times, victims of abuse feel a desire to forgive and reconnect with their abuser-- my issue with the MCU depiction of Tony and Howard is that Tony never really gets the vindication of his abuse being recognized for what it was before he forgives Howard. To me, that’s not forgiveness as kind of... gaslighting himself that it wasn't as bad as he remembered his own experience being, because of a sense of nostalgia and grief. It’s not the same, and I have issues with it.

However, a lot of my opinion is based on subtext and it is just my opinion; with depictions of abuse, different people are going to react differently, and other people may have found these scenes touching and gotten something positive out of them, and that's totally fine too!

It’s also a bit difficult to talk about Tony’s relationship with Howard in 616, for a few reasons: shifting timelines, lots of canon that I have not read all of, and the fact that it really is difficult to sum up such a complicated relationship.

Right off the bat, I’ll address the basics. I used the same scene in another ask, and I think it's frequently cited in any meta regarding Howard, but in Iron Man Vol. 1, we see more into Tony’s childhood and see Howard verbally abusing his family, drunk, at the dinner table.

Iron Man Vol. 1 #285

We get this scene with adult Tony’s retrospective commentary on how his own issues that he blamed himself for were actually a cycle starting with his father, the insecurity and abuse and alcohol, and that he realizes how much this has influenced him. Both MCU Tony and 616 Tony have some form of “stop the cycle of shame” arcs, but I don’t really see how this works narratively in the MCU because Tony makes excuses for Howard and continues to blame himself for a lot of his own personal struggles, whereas I think there’s just a bit more nuance in 616.

But uh. This isn’t totally true, and in recent years, things got real weird. I choose to ignore this chapter of canon, but in the Dan Slott run, Tony Stark: Iron Man, Tony’s whole backstory gets imploded. For one thing, the little of Tony’s childhood it shows in a flashback is uh. Uh. Well, it’s certainly out of character compared with previous 616 material, depicting Tony as an overly confident poor sport.

Basically, Tony is adopted. Tony has an evil brother. Tony’s biological parents make an appearance, as do his ‘classic’ parents, Howard and Maria. It’s just weird. It’s kind of out there. I’m honestly not a huge fan of this and ignore a lot of it, but it is certainly a difference between MCU and 616.

3. Personality

I’m going to be very general. Both Tony’s have an outer self which they present to the public and an inner self, but they’re a bit different. Both Tony’s have struggled with self loathing, but I think MCU Tony’s actual self worth is a bit higher, even just at some points in time. Even if his ego is part of his facade, I think he does believe some amount of the “I’m awesome”, even if just when it applies to his own work/inventions/saving people. Not to say that these moments of fluctuating self esteem make him egotistical, but this combined with his egotistical act and snarky, non-stop sassy dialogue, he’s quite different in general personality from 616 Tony, who is much more reserved.

Some more recent iterations of 616 Tony have been adapted to reflect the snark of the MCU, but he’s not so snarky and he tends to approach things more seriously. This is not a dis on MCU Tony; I think MCU Tony uses false ego and excessive sassy jokes as a means to deflect and control, which I think is very interesting and it’s nice to see this explored more in depth in fic where you get to see the thought process behind the bravado. MCU Tony is a partier, a good times guy, especially during Iron Man 2, in which he really does disregard consequences to have fun (driving his race car, partying drunk in his suit, letting pretty  girls play with the armor, shooting off repulsor blasts for fun in a crowded room); I’m not bashing MCU Tony-- I think he had psychologically understandable reasons for behaving this way, the man was dying-- but 616 Tony really doesn’t act this way generally, and I think it’s a personality difference more than a difference of one being “better.”

616 Tony handles his stress differently, and they just have different psychological patterns, I think. I’m coming up kind of blank trying to think of a good comparable 616 arc, (sorry, I’m brain dead) but a less-than-perfect  example might be Tony’s brain delete arc; he’s “dying”, like in Iron Man 2 he  knows his expiration date, (circumstances are quite  a bit different), but he throws himself more into work, into a cause, and as he really fall apart, we  see him spiral into self doubt, remorse, fear, and insecurity, sort of falling into  himself with lots of manly tears and calling himself pathetic.

(Some things happen in this arc that a lot of people find Gross. I also find these events gross. But. I don’t count the sex in “World’s Most Wanted” as partying to cope with personal mortality, because I think both character involved are in “end of the world” mode, and it’s more seeking intimacy for comfort than partying to numb the hurt. Does this distinction make sense? No? Perfect, moving on.) 616 Tony is generally much more humble.

Whereas MCU Tony, I think, tries to outrun those feelings via parties or making dozens of new suits, or seeking comfort by comforting others! Gifting things to people, building things for people, highly personalized individual living quarters, teaching Nebula games and trying to show her a fun time when they were in peril together.

They have some traits in common, for sure! But canon being inconsistent both in the MCU and in 616, my observations aren’t the rule, because I’m kind of cherry picking and going based on limited memory. But off the top of my head, they’re both extravagant gift givers! Recall Tony gifting Pepper the giant bunny in Iron Man 3, and compare this with Tony carrying a mile high pile of Christmas gifts after shopping with Rumiko in Iron Man Vol. #3.

I would say that while both Tony Starks are considered humanitarians, this is much more fleshed out and supported by canon in 616. Some examples of his philanthropy in the MCU: Tony makes charitable donations of art and money, Tony has an organization which provides disaster relief/cleanup which is referenced in Spider-Man Homecoming, Tony has an MIT grant for students and staff members. But to be honest, a lot of his MCU philanthropy is only mentioned in passing, or is largely handled by other people on his behalf and on his dollar.

In 616, we see Tony using charity almost as a means of therapy: it’s something he does very privately, not in the public eye (at least, not always), and it’s something deeply personal to him. One example that immediately comes to mind is Tony’s home for disadvantaged girls in Iron Man Vol. 3, and we see scenes of Tony basically driving the streets at night, picking up underage prostitutes, feeding them and listening to their stories before bringing them to a home he’s established where he knows all the residents, and provides educational opportunities and protection.

Another more recent example in canon that the Tony fandom loves is that Tony canonically holds babies at an orphanage. Sorry I don’t have panels for all of this, this section got long and I have been working on answering this ask in a very scattered way for a very long time.

Both Tony’s are romantics, I literally could write a whole other post about their canon love life similarities and differences, but I will briefly say that while MCU Tony does the long on and off, and eventual ultimate commitment, to Pepper Potts, 616 Tony is a serial monogamist; he is always falling in love, and he’s definitely not a playboy, but the hero-ing, self loathing, and lifestyle make it very hard for him to keep anyone in his life, and most of his partners fuck his life up and betray him. Needless to say, 616 Tony is not married, and certainly not to Pepper Potts.

Oh, and I guess this is so obvious I almost forgot to include it, but a huge similarity between both iterations of Tony is that they both constantly use their own life as a bargaining chip, and will pretty much die for anything. Or be the bad guy for a good reason (at least, in his own mind... see Civil War, or Hickmanvengers; 616 Tony, especially, does not shy away from making the hard decisions, and this leads to a lot of guilt and tension in his  relationships-- often with Steve because 616 Steve/Tony angst fans are well fed, I guess)

Remember that time Tony had Steve’s mind wiped because Tony felt that Steve’s inflexible morality might hinder the Illuminati’s ability to save the world? And it eats Tony up inside and erupts into a homicidal fight when Steve finally gets his memory back? Me too.

Tony Stark as a character is defined by sacrifice, both of his own life but also of his own happiness and reputation and conscience, I think, in a lot of ways, and we see this in many universes. I could go on about Tony’s propensity for sacrifice in the less obvious ways, because I think in terms of heroic sacrifice, Tony has done a lot that other heroes wouldn’t be able to do because of moral inflexibility and conflicting philosophical schools of thought; Tony really is the “whatever it takes” type, and often believes the ends justify the means if he deems a threat worse than the potential wrong that could be done in preventing the threat. We see this a little bit in the MCU in the creation of Ultron, and in Civil War with the Accords. But there’s a whole lot more going on there I don’t want to get into.

4. Alcohol

MCU Tony’s alcoholism is never really explicitly explored. He is shown drinking in Iron Man 1, and in Iron Man 2 he drinks a lot and makes a fool of himself publicly, but MCU Tony doesn’t get any specific narrative arc focused on his drinking, and if I recall correctly, I don’t think he ever refers to his drinking as alcoholism in the movies? Also, while his binge drinking and embarrassing behaviors ostensibly stop after the events of Iron Man 2, he is shown drinking on screen at least one other time after that which I can remember, and it wasn’t a “falling off the wagon” moment, and an alcoholic in recovery such as 616 Tony would not take a drink casually. This article sheds a little light on some decisions made about Tony and alcohol in the MCU.

Alcoholism is a huge part of 616 Tony’s personality, which I went a bit more into depth about in this post, so I won’t repeat myself too much.

5. Their relationships with the Iron Man armor

A few points here: MCU Tony is famous for the “I am Iron Man” line being repeated throughout the franchise after he blows his own secret in the end of the first movie. MCU Tony sees himself as one with Iron Man, and the suit is the tech that enables him to be this version of himself. He sees Tony Stark and Iron Man as inextricable: you cannot separate them, and his identity is public. He, as Tony Stark, is an Avenger.

You may remember MCU Tony’s induction into the Avengers; in Iron Man 2, Nick Fury is forming the Avengers and tasks the Black Widow with going undercover to assess Tony to be a part of a hypothetical initiative. “Iron Man yes, Tony Stark no” and the comments about Tony as a narcissist may be funny, but the fact is, the snark and erratic personality of MCU Tony at the time of the formation of the Avengers in the movies is not at all like the Tony of the comics, at the time of the Avengers being formed. 

In 616, things are quite a bit different! Tony invents the Iron man armor to save himself (like in the MCU) and uses it for hero-ing, but in secret. He works very hard to protect his identity as Iron Man, and for a long time, as far as the world is concerned, Iron man is a mystery man piloting armor built by Tony, hired as Tony’s personal body guard, (hence the 616 Steve/Tony fandom’s proclivity for identity porn as a trope!) When the Avengers form, Iron Man is the Avenger, close friends with the Avengers, (particularly Steve!) and Tony Stark is just the benefactor of the Avengers, providing them with a place to live and finances with which to operate.

In the very early days, Tony did not have the “reactor” like in the MCU, but his chest plate did keep him alive, leading to some very dramatic shots of Tony charging up using a wall socket, lamenting the plight of a secret hero.

616 Tony, generally, and especially in some of these earlier comics, was quite reserved, rather serious, and very angsty, (in private of course.) He may be wealthy, but speaking generally, he’s much less ostentatious than MCU Tony, less of a show off, less into flashy things and grand gestures. Of course, this isn’t always true in the comics, and some iterations of Tony are more like this than others, but MCU Tony is showier, sillier, and more of a fun-times guy. Any MCU fan would find those panels quite contrary to the Tony Stark you know:

Iron Man 1

Iron Man 2

I think I would say that while MCU Tony sees himself and the Iron Man identity and the  armor as all being inextricably connected, we see a bit more compartmentalization with 616 Tony, who pretends that the armor is a whole separate person for years when his identity was private, and we see instances in older and newer comics, in which Tony  is uncomfortable with some aspect of himself as Iron Man (for instance, during the second drinking arc, Tony temporarily swears off being Iron Man entirely, or for another example, when Tony is in a comma and Tony AI exists during Secret Empire, Tony “lives” in the Iron Man suit, and I think this could be interpreted as a meta parallel to Steve during this arc; Steve has had some core aspect of his character inverted, Captain America becoming Captain Hydra, so Tony experiences a similar inversion-- Tony Stark and Iron Man are forcibly merged, in a way that Tony seems deeply uncomfortable with, if his digital drinking relapse is any indication. But I digress; sorry for the tangent.)

Okay this post is inexcusable long, and very, very tangential, and I don’t feel like I’ve really covered everything I wanted to. But it has been sitting in my inbox for too long and if I don’t post it now I never will, so I hope this long, rambling thing has been a little bit helpful to you! Thank you so much for asking, I had a lot of fun rambling about this.

If you want to read a similar post, but well written and organized, with other insights, this post by Sineala answers a similar question!

[dandelionflower]

Felinette where after 10 years the school reunion happens but Mari and Felix are at the hospital since Mari is giving birth. At the reunion Lila tries her lies about Mari but the birth of Mari and Felix's kid is going live since Mari is a famous designer and Felix is her model.

[send me Felinette prompts/requests]

“Hey, girl!” Alya hugged Lila, grinning bright. “Guess who got herself an interview with Jagged Stone’s son last week?”

“You mean Shatter?” Lila smiled at her, voice softening like when a mother consoles a child. “He’s such a sweetie, isn’t he?”

“It’s Shawn, but yeah.” Alya grinned at the memory.

The wedding between Penny Rolling and Jagged Stone has happened when they were all just fourteen, and Shawn was born that next year.

The year Lila told them about her lies.

She admitted that she had lied about her trips, her connections, and being Ladybug’s friend. The only truth was knowing Jagged Stone, but that was because he was her godfather, not because she saved his kitten.

She was bawling on the floor, begging for forgiveness that the class surely gave.

Alya was twenty-nine now, and her journalistic pursuits were thriving, just like everyone else.

Rose had become a highly esteemed business woman, and Juleka was modeling so much, you couldn’t look at a magazine kiosk without seeing her face.

Ivan was a well-paid bodyguard for Mylene, who had gained fame by protesting all sorts of environmental atrocities. They had broken up after they had turned seventeen, but rumor had it that those old bonds were slowly repairing themselves.

Alix had become a famous rollerblader, breaking a record for fastest cross country time and took up ice skating; she was going to the next Olympic Games.

Kim was now the most wanted stuntmen in the world, for his lack of fear and uncanny ability to not die from heights.

Nathaniel and Marc parted ways as they went to different colleges, but were still in contact. Nathaniel often called Marc when the storyline for his comic book seemed a bit off and Marc would gladly tell him that the author was just being an idiot.

Max and Sabrina, amazingly enough, got married; they completed their medical doctorates together and, once they made enough money, went back to college to get degrees in technology and math for Max and philosophy and psychology for Sabrina.

Together, they found the cure for cancer and Sabrina ended up writing a bestselling self-help novel, Henchman: just one good friend isn’t always enough. Max had patented his AI technology and Markov got his own talk show.

Adrien was working with Child Protective Services and other organizations to help children in bad situations. His father’s company took a massive tank after Hawkmoth’s reveal and Adrien did nothing to keep it afloat.

Chloe took up acting. She was well known for her amazing performances of evil queens, heinous witches, terrifying stepmothers. She, of course, took it all in stride.

No one really knew what Lila or Marinette were up to, finding out was probably the reason most of them were here.

And Nino...

Nino was living life happily as a popular song composer with his daughter Harley, the daughter Alya missed with every passing day.

She shook her head. Now wasn’t time to dwell on recent events, now was a time to look back at the past and reminisce.

“Have you seen Marinette? I’ve been wondering what she’s been up to these past ten years.” Alya commented, barely noticing Lila stiffen up. “You too. I gave you my number for a reason, you know.”

“Yeah, but I lost my phone in the trenches and you know how bad my memory is.” She laughed, batting her hand in the air.

“Yeah, I do. So tell me now; what about trenches?”

“I’ve been doing some peace talks, you know, nothing big.”

“Like Mylene was?”

“...yeah, like that. Just on a slightly larger scale.”

“Larger than stopping the Third World War? Dang girl.”

“I’ve also been doing some acting in foreign films and donating my extra time to children in need.”

“Like Chloe, Kim, and Adrien!”

Her eye twitched. “So, is Marinette coming, or is she...”

“She’s definitely coming. She wouldn’t miss a class reunion for the world.”

“Are you sure, because I saw her not too long ago today and she didn’t seem to prepared.”

“She’s coming.” Alya spoke firmly.

“Hi Alya! Hi Lila!” Rose jumped in and hugged them both tightly. “Have either of you seen Mari? I need to give her congratulations.”

“Congratulations? For what?”

“She got married a while back! I was really busy though, so I wasn’t able to go to the wedding. Her number changed too so I couldn’t call her either.”

Alya frowned. She hadn’t gotten any invitation.

“She got married?” Lila gasped. “But who was that man she was kissing in the coffee shop?”

“That was probably him; I don’t know him well, but I remember him being blond.” Rose grinned.

“Are you sure? He seemed pretty red headed when I saw them.” She pressed her hands to her face. “You don’t think...”

“Lila, come on. Mari wouldn’t cheat on her husband.”

“Yeah... we’ll just talk to her when she gets here.” Lila agreed. “If she gets here in time.”

“She will.” Alya nodded, reassuring Lila with a smile.

For some reason, she didn’t seem too certain.

—

Hours passed and everyone had given a speech on the stage, all but one.

“Where could she be?” Alya hissed to herself, texting Marinette again and again only to get a message declaring her number inactive.

“Maybe she’s just not-“ Lila was cut off when Alya held up her hand.

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

The sound of feedback filled the room and every head turned towards the stage, where Miss Bustier was standing.

She looked almost the same, with her red hair in a bun and her crisp pale blue pantsuit. The signs of time were still there, though, in the wrinkles around her eyes and the sparkling grey at her roots.

“Hello class!” She paused and listened to them cheer. “We’ve heard all of your accounts of your school years, and now it’s time for your class president to have a word.”

Chatter filled the air, each person turning to look for the blurnette.

“Oh, I can’t wait to see her!” Rose squealed to Juleka. “I need to get her new number.”

Juleka glanced sideways at her. “She’s been texting me for months.”

“What?” Rose scrolled through her phone and stopped. “Oh! Here it is! My phone is set to block unknown numbers.” She clicked a button and grinned as she made a new contact for her, with lots of emojis.

“Where’s Marinette?” Someone yelled. “Shouldn’t she be here?”

“I’m afraid Marinette had some prior engagements.” Miss Bustier clicked a pointer to a projector. “But, luckily, we are able to see exactly what it is.”

Light funneled out of the projector and the class was treated to what looked like a home movie.

It was in a hospital, but one boys face overtook the screen. He had on a blue striped shirt and a cheeky smile.

“Hey ma peeps! For those of you just joining us, I’m Claude...”

Another boy popped up in a green beret. “And I’m Mercury.”

“...and this is the livestream of the birth of a demigod!”

Sabrina and Max rose their fists and started chanting, “Elise! Elise! Elise!”

Ivan and Mylene glared at them playfully and started their own chant. “Dean! Dean! Dean!”

“What are they talking about?” Alya whispered to Rose.

“Didn’t you know? I just found out, it’s-“ she was cut off by a familiar voice coming from the speakers.

“Claude, I swear, if you don’t turn off that camera right now...”

The camera panned to a blue haired woman lying in a bed, a platinum blond man by her side.

“Sorry, Madame Culpa-Dupain-Cheng,” he laughed as Alya gasped inside the gymnasium, “you’re bedridden, so I’m not afraid of you.”

“Felix is still here.” She pointed out, leveling a finger at the camera. “Felix, get ‘im.”

The blond looked somewhere behind the camera’s field of view and made to move, but stopped as Marinette shouted out in pain.

“Felix,” she panted, after the screaming ceased, “I just want you to know that I love you, but I am never doing this again.” She looked up at him and received an amused grin.

“Fine by me.” He kissed her temple and Claude spoke again.

“You heard it here first folks! The legendary child, the only of its kind!”

She glared at him again. “Felix, if you don’t mind.”

“It would be my pleasure.” He began rolling up his sleeves and began walking towards Claude with a brisk pace.

“Uh, Claude?” Mercury, spoke with a nervous lilt to his voice.

“Well, that’s our live secret look into the birth of the legendary child of famous designer Marinette Culpa-Dupain-Chang and her photographer Felix Culpa-Dupain-Cheng!” Claude opened the door and hurried out. “Comment below on what you think the gender of the legend child will be and what the parents should name them; Claude Junior...”

“Or Mercury Junior!”

“Or the great Allegra the second?”

“Guys?” Adrien stood up from where he was sitting next to a blonde woman in a braid and a darker haired woman. “Is everything okay in there?”

“In there, fine, but out here?”

“There is a man on a mission behind us and that mission includes the removal of our tongues.”

“Better keep running, then.” The dark haired girl shouted, not even glancing up from her phone.

“Indeed.” Felix’s voice came from close behind the camera.

Both Claude and Mercury shrieked and began running down the hall once more, the other girl beside Adrien laughing while shouting, “Get ‘em good Felix!”

Alya stood stock-still, staring at the black screen.

Marinette is having a baby.

Adrien and four strangers are there for it.

She got married.

I didn’t know about it.

Lila said she saw Marinette today when she’s clearly been in the hospital all day, and is obviously in love with that Felix guy.

Suddenly, the fact that no one else but Rose, the sweetest person in class, had been talking to Lila was making a whole lot more sense.

@virgil-is-a-cutie

[sp00kworm]

A Den of Iniquity (Part 4)

Pairing: Dracula/Count Dracula/Vlad Tepes x Female Reader

Warnings: Death, Murder, Blood, Gore, Injuries, Violence, Vomiting and Adult content.

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Part 1    Part 2      Part 3    Part 5 

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The vampire felt a tiredness seep into his very core. His rest in the icy cold storage had made him lethargic and slow. He eased himself upwards, standing on two legs out in the grass of the hospital gardens, wobbling on his legs a little. The night air was cool, but not as cold as the locker had been on his dead flesh. There wasn’t a soul in sight as he peered around, red eyes burning against the dark. Dracula felt his cold flesh regain a bit of movement. He was lethargic as he took a few steps forward, heading towards the fences where the hole he had entered through remained. Thankfully, there was no one to witness the naked form of a man rushing through the gardens, and the vampire turned his gaze to the moon before shifting into a wolf and rushing through the metal wire fencing and into the streets. He raised his black nose and sniffed at the air, remembering where his closest apartment was in a flood of pictures, turns and jumps towards the property. The beast howled before it took off, pink tongue hanging between sharp teeth as it bolted through the streets of inner London. The night air was cool against his black coat as he ran.

 The apartment block was quiet, and he awkwardly stumbled in through the window before regaining a semblance of grace, snarling as he shed fur and sniffed at the air. There wasn’t anyone here, and the cleaning lady had been recently. Lemony scents clung to the floor as he moved through the apartment, bare feet dragging along the carpets and slapping against the stone floor of the kitchen. He turned on a light, and squinted at the brightness, before turning it off again and heading towards the small bedroom. There was a wardrobe with some clothes he had stashed in case of an emergency. The vampire drew out a shirt and a pair of trousers, forgoing underwear in favour of collecting a pair of boots and heading to bathroom. The water was cold, but he showered quickly, scrubbing the clotted blood from his mouth, chin, neck and chest. He turned his hands under the spray and gouged at the blood beneath his nails before daring to run his hair under the spray. Pink water circled down the drain as he scrubbed his hair with whatever shampoo had been left. The smell of roses clung to his nostrils as he washed and washed, removing as much of the evidence of his murder as he could manage.

Dracula dressed slowly, twisting, as if unused to the human skin covering him as the shirt clung to him tightly, the material feeling claustrophobic against his skin. He towel-dried his hair and hissed at the mirror, watching the glass erupt into shards with his cursed gaze, the reflections of shadows and bones shattering before he could really catch a glimpse of it.

“The vanity of man.” He grumbled as he rubbed a hand over his styled facial hair. His form was still the same, not a hair had grown nor a freckle on his face. The same. Cold and dead but changeable, malleable to his own and other’s desires. With a deep breath, he stood and tied his hair back, before heading to the door, snatching a coat off the hook as he headed back into the dark London streets, intending on getting home with another meal in his dead stomach. As he took a deep lungful of air, he scented a cut on the wind, and headed towards the scent with a deceitful smile on his face.

 His home was dark as he arrived back, feeling energized yet ready for the rest of the night in his bed of foul earth. He’d had a little bit too much of an adventure over the past couple of days. He was becoming an old vampire with the taste for the sedentary luxuries of wealth. Striding up the drive, he came to a halt as he spotted a black cat splayed across his doorstep, its thick tail flicking with irritation as he approached. The cat hissed, claws flashing as his shadowed form loomed ever closer, flickering and spitting back at the beast.

“I will have her.” He promised in heavy Romanian, amidst the fog of his own form, “Whether you want me to or not.” The words echoed around him as he watched the beast snarl at him again, claws scratching his leg through his trousers, opening three tiny wounds which sealed as soon as they opened. The black cat bounded from his doorstep, fluffy with anger as it leaped into the bushes and disappeared into the street, yowling as it went. Dracula watched with a smile before a leaned over into his front lawn and clicked on the cat repellent machine, grinning as the awful noise warded off another beast that was hiding in his bushes.

 It had been three days since you sent the restocking email to Vladimir, and you’d yet to have a reply. A text message was still sat unread but received and you were beginning to wonder if you had stepped over an invisible line.

“Maybe he’s not interested, Drac?” You cooed as your black cat wandered around the shop, purring against your legs before he jumped onto your serving counter and chirped for your attention. You ran your hand over his thick, black fur and smiled at your cat as you messed with the fur on his neck. A sharp tone rang through the shop. Your phone blinked awake as you received a text message. His name was across your screen.

‘I apologise for my absence. I had to attend a business meeting in Romania. I only just got back. Forgive me, for I did not mean to make it seem like I was ignoring you. I look forwards to seeing you again soon.’

 Another notification chirped before appearing on your screen. The invoices for the next order and the scheduled payment date. You smiled at the text message and replied as Drac attempted to bat the top of your phone.

‘Don’t worry about it. See you soon.’

He read the message as soon as you sent it, the bubble indicating he was typing a reply.

‘Shall I see you at my home again this weekend? I found an interesting selection of English movies I have never seen in Romania.’

With a smile you sent him a small bat emoji and a time for the date before he replied with how he was going to bed, claiming to be tired from the flights and work he’d been dragged into. Drac successfully hit the phone onto the counter with a yowl, his tail swishing back and forth over the wood until you relented, laughing as your cat pushed himself into your arms and purred, a sandpaper tongue licking underneath your chin as he enjoyed your sole love and affection.

 Your movie night was cut short with your own business. Vladimir hadn’t been too upset with the disruption to your plans together but did pop in to see you in the shop. He’d even gone as far as to offer his help dressing the place for the wine tasting you had booked, grinning and joking about his own brands that were laid on the table for the guests to give a try. You’d enjoyed his presence, the man helping to calm your nerves with soft gestures and consoling words.

“You have nothing to be nervous about, my dear. The shop is dressed to perfection and the wines are delectable. You will do fine.” You could remember the ghost of a kiss on your cheek before he left you in peace to host the evening, his coat fluttering as he disappeared past the glass front windows of the shop and down into the dark street. It had been a success, and many people had complimented the low lights and fine decorations. When you thanked him, he was nothing but kind, turning the success around, pinning it on your own abilities.

 The supermarket was dead this time of night. You scowled at the tins of tomatoes and beans on the shelf, looking for the usual deal with a huff of hot air between your lips. The deal was on another brand this week, and you shrugged as you threw four tins of tomatoes into your trolley and ticked your list on the scrap of notebook paper clutched in your hand. You still had quite a few things to collect. You peered at the list as you walked up the aisle. You trolley collided with another with a metallic bang.

“I’m so sorry!” You rushed to apologise to the other person before gazing upon the tall stature of a familiar man, “Vladimir? I didn’t expect to run into you!” You laughed as he tipped his head at you, clutching his own list of shopping in his hand.

“I too did not expect to see you here.” He chuckled before holding his list up, “I decided to come and collect the ingredients for my next dinner event.” The man tucked his trolley to the side of the aisle, pressed against your own, to give other shoppers room to pass, “Are you here doing your…how do you say it here? Weekly shop?” He offered, his accent thick and heavy as he rushed to think of the words.

 With a nod you laughed, holding up your own list, “I’m here doing my weekly shop, yeah. I was running out of cat food, so I figured I should come before Drac kills me in my sleep and eats me instead.” You joked.

Vladimir gave a thin smile, “Cats are such mean beasts.” He offered, “I did not know you had one. What was its name again? Drac? Is it short for Dracula, perhaps?” He joked.

Embarrassment coloured your cheeks, “Ah yeah, it is. He’s so big and scary so I just named him that when I picked him up from the rescue woman. He used to bring me all sorts of bleeding things, so the name just stuck with him.” You explained before tapping your trolley handles, “Do you want to walk together? I can help you find the things you have left, if you want?” You offered.

Vladimir smiled, “But of course. I am a little lost, I must confess.” He admitted before offering you his list, “I do not know where the meat counter is.”

“Oh, all this is on my route around anyway! I’ll show you.” You smiled up at Vladimir before waving for him to follow you, “The meat counter is just up here, but I think this cut of beef will be expensive.” You offered him his list back.

“Money is no problem. I must impress these men. They are part of the chain I would like for my warehousing here.” He confessed as you both approached the small butchers counter.

“Well then we best get you the finest we can find!” You joked as Vladimir turned to take his meat from the butcher on duty.

“Only the finest, indeed.”

 Your trip around the shop was brief, or it seemed very brief as you both laughed and talked about what had happened since his impromptu trip abroad.

“I heard Miss Westenra is engaged?” You asked, “Harker told me the last time he was in the shop buying that wine he likes to impress with.” You rolled your eyes at your friend before smiling at Vladimir.

He nodded, “She and a man named Doctor Harvey Seward are to be married. Apparently, his family are all Doctors, and have been since the Victorian era of this country. I hope the marriage is favourable.” Vladimir stopped at the end of the aisle and smiled, “I think I am finished shopping, my dear, but this has been wonderful.” He took one of your hands in his own and placed a kiss on the back of it, “Will I see you this weekend?” He asked as you looked into his dark eyes, admiring the way his long, dark hair framed his face.

“How about we have coffee in the square by the shop?” You whispered as he drew close.

“Nothing would make me happier.” He whisked himself away with a grin and a flip of his coat, and you were left holding the pack of toilet rolls, flustered and hot to the touch.

 When you got home you found a bunch of black roses tucked on the doorstep of your shop. You picked them up and admired the deep, scarlet ribbon that was wrapped around them, styled into a beautiful bow. There was a tag attached with a small note.

‘I hope we can spend more time together- Vlad’

You took them inside with a smile, unaware of the red eyes and fanged grin watching you from the mist curling in the shadows across the street.

 The vampire watched as you entered the book shop across the square. The café inside the book shop was where he was supposed to meet you. He looked into the window as you passed them by, smiling to the clerk before you headed into the back through the aisles. Curiously, the vampire followed, ducking through the crowd as he entered the shop and smiled as the cashier with a wave of his hand. She smiled back pleasantly at him and continued to price the books stacked on the counter. He followed the route you had taken into the back of the shop and paused in the entrance to an aisle as you passed around the end aisle with a heavy looking book in hand. Dracula smiled as he watched you, ducking into the next aisle to watch again before he looked at the metal watch on his wrist and peered at the time. It was still early. He too, had some time to look around and pick up something to read. With a graceful spin, he headed towards the world books and peered at the titles, wondering if there was something in his own language that he would be able to read properly.

 “Vladimir?” You asked as you turned the corner in the bookstore, gazing up at the man curiously, “I didn’t expect to see you in here just yet. With a smile, you tucked the book under your arm and looked up at the ‘around the world’ section.

Vladimir jumped at your interruption, smiling as quickly as he could as he held up a selection of a couple of books. They were all rather heavy looking reading. He offered you a smile, “I was looking for something to read in my home language.” He looked embarrassed, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck, tucking a few stray hands of his dark hair back into his bun after the motion.

“I thought you could read in English?” You asked, confused.

Vladimir smiled before tapping the cover of a novel that was in Hungarian, then another that was in Romanian, “I can read English, but the meanings of many words and phrases escape me in it. My home languages are much easier to comprehend.” He confessed.

You looked at the adaptations of old horrors before tapping the front of your own book, “Maybe I can help? I know you find it easier to read in your mother tongues but maybe if we read together you can get better at understanding certain words?”

Vladimir considered your offer for a moment, dancing from hip to hip before he hummed, “This was not the ideal coffee date I had in mind.” He joked as he plucked another Romanian book from the shelf.

 “You don’t have to be embarrassed about it.” You soothed with a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll happily sit and read with you…It…” You tucked your book higher, “It actually sounds like a nice time.”

The vampire felt his chest ache as you smiled, face red from the cold outside.

Vladimir smiled back at you and tipped his chin, “You have convinced me. I will read and you will instruct.” He offered you his arm as you both headed to pay for the books in your hands. As you reached the register he plucked the short stories from your hands and smiled deviously, “I insist.”

You reached to take it back, “You don’t have to do that! I can afford it, you know.”

Vladimir shook his head, his gloved hand raised to silence your protests, “Think of it as payment for your instruction.”

“Thank you.” You relented and smiled warmly. Vladimir returned the gesture by reaching for your hand, giving it a firm squeeze. The lady at the register took the total from his card and packaged the books before ushering you both on your way. With your book in hand you headed upstairs to the café, Vladimir following close at your heels.

 The smell of black coffee was somewhat calming as you sat by the window and watched the British rain fall in violent sheets. It didn’t seem to want to calm so you and Vladimir had ordered a second coffee each to pass the time a little more, hoping to not have to run out in it. You listened to him read, your head rested in your palm as you listened to him read softly across from you.

“The subway train lost its life current between two stations and for a quarter of an hour they could hear nothing but the dutiful beating of their hearts and the rustling of newspapers. The bus they had to take next was late and kept them waiting a long time on a street corner, and when it did come, it was crammed with garr…” Vladimir scowled at the word in the book before spinning it to you, pointing at the word in the middle of the page.

You leaned forwards, hot coffee clasped between your hands, “Garrulous.” You smiled at his confusion, “It means, chatty or talking excessively about something trivial.”

Vladimir nodded, rolling the word around his mouth as he repeated it back to you and then himself. He turned the book back to himself before starting the sentence again, “The bus they had to take next was late and kept them waiting a long time on a street corner, and when it did come, it was crammed with garrulous high-school children. It began to rain as they walked up the brown path leading to the sanatorium.” He continued reading, his English seeming to get better and more pronounced as he practiced aloud, and you listened in a trance, watching him for a while before looking out at the bouncing rain.

 Vladimir’s soothing voice lilted in the air as you took another sip of coffee and looked back at Vladimir’s handsome face, admiring the angles of his strong jaw and the stylized facial hair. Dark eyes locked with your own as he finished the last line of the story.

“He had got to crab apple when the telephone rang again.” He closed the book around his finger as he reached for the receipt and marked the page for now. He’d gulped his expresso down in the true way, three quick swigs before he’d continued reading to you. Vladimir smiled as he moved his chair out, “Excuse me a moment. I must use the bathroom.”

“Oh, its fine. I’ll be here when you get back!” You joked as you sipped your coffee and turned your gaze back to the window.

 Vladimir’s shoes tapped as he walked across the café to the small, single male toilet. The door was heavy and wooden. A thick fire door. He locked the stall with a snap of his wrist and inhaled the smell of bleach and toilet cleaner before he crouched down over the toilet and pushed the seat out of the way. The vampire drew a vial from his trouser pocket and grimaced at the sight of the heavy Ipecac syrup in the plastic tube. Dracula drew the stopper out before squeezing the tube harshly, feeling it coat his tongue and throat before he tossed it into the waste and swallowed with a violent gag, waiting for the influx of coffee stained stomach lining to pour from his body. He stared into the water, a reflection of bone and ash, and gaged as the first mouthful of vomit dripped past his lips.

 “You took a while.” You observed with a light tone as Vladimir returned, sitting at the table with his usual smile. He’d changed his hair, “But now that I look at you, I realise that you spent time messing with your hair. Preening in the mirror were you.”

“My hair was a mess, what can I say.” Vladimir teased as he turned his cup upside down on its saucer, pushing it to the side of the table for the waiting staff to pick up.

Gently, you reached to tuck a long piece of his hair behind his ear, watching the man remain still to let you do so, “I think it looked just fine. You always look handsome, Vlad.”

Vladimir took a deep breath as he caught your hand, pressing it to his cool cheek before he laid a kiss on your palm and leaned forwards, “Just as you are always beautiful.” He complimented before releasing your hand and nodding to the window, “We should make a dash for your home while the rain has paused.” He stood up before you to wrap your coat back around you before storing your book in two layers on plastic bag, “Hopefully we can keep the books dry.”

“Here.” You took your card out and paid for the drinks before he could protest, “You can get the next one, Mister Gentleman.” You teased as you paid and turned.

Vladimir offered you his arm with a chuckle. As your arm wrapped around his own, he purred, “Are you implying you would like to go out again, my dear?”

You jabbed his side with a finger, “Yes I am, you big tease.”

 The two of you laughed as the sun set, making the streets of London an even drearier grey, plunging them into darkness. The rain splattered across the pavements and tarmac, drenching everything, making the concrete city smell of ash and rain. You laughed, hand in hand, as you dragged Vladimir across the road, dodging a speeding cabby, who promptly stuck his finger out of his window along with some screamed verbal abuse, and jumped up the curb, heading towards the front door of the side stairs to your apartment above the shop. Vladimir dragged you back under his black umbrella as you rifled through your bag for the keys to your apartment. You laughed as the rain poured off the sides and snatched your leys, unlocking the door. Before you could swing it open, Vladimir pushed himself closer, taking your hand and pushing it against the wood before he dived to claim your lips. A cool kiss pressed to your skin and you responded tentatively to the pressure before opening your mouth and feeling the caress of his tongue. It was cold, chilled from the rain, but full of emotion, a desire that was locked deep inside both of you. The man pressed against you, his free arm dropping to wrap around your waist as you clutched at his neck. He drew back with a heavy exhale and pressed his nose to your throat.

 Dracula merely pressed a kiss to the hot skin, fangs sliding free at the feel of hot flesh and the blood pumping under his lips. He relented. He controlled himself and then, he pulled away, looking into your half-lidded eyes, wanting nothing more than to steal another intoxicating kiss.

 “What are you?” Vladimir whispered against your cheek, “It is like there is a force. A pull I cannot resist…” He kissed the column of your throat again, “It drives the beast wild.”

“What…” You heaved a breath, “What do you mean?” You asked before he kissed you again. Gently, you pushed him away by the chin, “Not…” You steadied yourself, “Not yet. I don’t…”

Vladimir’s eyes appeared black in the darkness, the whites gone, “I understand. I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” He pressed another hurried kiss to your cheek, “Goodbye my darling. I will see you again soon, I hope?”

You nodded before opening the door, “I’ll message you.”

Vladimir turned his collar up against the wind, “I await your call.” A ghostly kiss pressed to your face once again before he disappeared. In the time it took you to open your eyes he was gone. There was an ache in your chest that you couldn’t describe as you entered your apartment and flopped onto your sofa.

 Your dates and meetings with Vladimir were few and far between as Halloween finally rolled around. Sales of his products went crazy and you found yourself contacting his supply team more and more often in the weeks leading up to the holiday. You closed early on Halloween, watching the kids rush around the streets in their costumes, giggling and screaming with joy as they held buckets of sweets and chocolates in their grasps. There was very little to do but finish tidying up. You jumped at a knock on the door and rolled your eyes as Harker made faces in your window.

You unlocked the door and peeked through the gap, “If you’d learn to read, you’d realise I’m closed.”

“Aw come on, love. I just want a bottle of that brandy you keep selling!” He remarked and you sighed before letting him in, rushing to grab him the bottle so you could get rid of him faster and close for the evening. You had a movie night planned with Drac, your ever faithful grumpy cat. Vladimir had insisted, with much regret, that he was busy tonight.

“Nice vampire costume. Very gimmicky.” You joked as you plonked the pricey bottle of brandy on the counter, “You sure you want to pay for this for a Halloween party?”

“Sure, I’m sure. I have some guests to impress.” Harker joked as he offered his card and slid the chip into the machine.

 A black wolf watched from outside the shop, snarling with teeth as it watched you hug Harker and usher him from the shop. The wolf became a man and snarled again before melting into the shadows, wishing a fall upon the accountant as he staggered back to the early starting party from which he had come. The vampire watched, his hand reaching towards the streetlamp as he moulded back into the shape of the great wolf-dog you had shown such love and affection for last time. He craved your touch. The caress of your fingers. It calmed the lust and hatred for a moment in his everlasting existence.

 The taste of your skin was sweet.

 A whine made you look up from the counter as you finished packing away the cash for the night. A great paw clawed at the glass and you smiled as you caught sight of the dark eyed, great black dog once more. It had been a long time since you’d seen it. You’d assumed it had been taken in or disappeared altogether. You walked towards the door and unlocked it, letting the hound inside the shop. He was dry this time and the dog rushed to jump up at you, snuffling and licking at your face as it whined and wagged its tail.

“Hey there. Its been a long time since I’ve seen you.” You cooed as you pushed the wolf-dog down and ran your hands through its thick fur, enjoying the warmth trapped in its fur as the animal curled around your legs close.

The dog sniffed his way to your door to upstairs and you smiled before sighing, locking the doors and lowering the shutters before you headed to the door and pointed at the big dog, “You can come up but only if you promise to behave, okay?” The dog stared at you and you opened the door, watching him bound on before you, up the stairs, turning on the landing to watch you follow it up.

He barked sharply and you laughed, “Okay, okay, I’m coming!” You petted his nose as you took the scruff of his neck and opened the door.

 Drac, your cat, scowled from the counter in the open kitchen as you eased the dog inside. He hissed, jumping up his fur on end as you looked between them. The dog was silent, watching your cat with a mild amount of interest.

“Come on Drac, be nice. He’s just here for the night. I’ll call the rescue service in the morning.” You cooed at your cat let go of the dog and watched the two glare at each other before Drac jumped up on top of your cabinets and bedded down for the night away from the new house guest. You fixed yourself dinner as the dog padded around. He saw fit to laying underneath your window, dark eyes looking up at the moon, ears pointed back to listen to the noise you were making in the kitchen. It slept as you ate, black fur like silk against your wooden floor. Only when you plonked yourself on the sofa did it open its eyes and perk up, standing from the floor in favour of pushing its way onto your couch.

“Come on, you can’t get up here.” You scolded before the wolf-dog was in your lap, its giant head rested in the crook of your arm, its tongue licking at you as a sign of peace and contentment. With a soft sigh, you began to work your fingers through its fur and turned on the television, content to watch the movies you had planned with your hot drink and the dog in your lap.

 “Sleep my love. Sleep without fear. Tonight, I will keep the darkness at bay.”

You felt your eyelids drop at the movie, your hand combing the fur before fisting at the hound in your lap, holding onto the beast as you listened to the movie and the soft lines whispered by a deep voice. A tongue lapped at your cheeks as you felt the great hound exhale. You lulled off into a pleasant, warm sleep, wrapped around the mysterious dog.

“For tonight, your dreams will be mine.”

 An old castle stood before you when you opened your eyes, as though you had been awake, and just blinked on a walk. Black silk rippled over you as you walked towards the castle in a dark trail of liquid dress. It almost flowed from you as you opened the great doors and peered inside. There was silence in the main hall, a great shadow of a cross blinding you as you peered down at the stone. You walked through the last of the sun’s orange light and cast no shadow as you moved towards the old, grand staircase. The stone was laid with plush carpet, Turkish and heavy, thick against the soles of your bare feet as you climbed, gazing at old paintings of great battles. Red curtains hung from the ceiling and you ran your hand along one as you reached the top of the stairs, feeling the fine material before you continued, walking in the direction of the ache in your chest. More old stone connected with your fingers as you continued into a labyrinth of corridors before eventually arriving at another old door, the wood engraved with a dragon spewing fire towards its own tail, curled around a sword. With a gentle push, you eased one door open enough to slide into the room.

 Warm candlelight greeted you, four giant floor-standing candelabras lit with twenty of so candles each glowing in every corner. A man made no move to greet you, laid across a luscious canopy bed, surrounded by sheer white fabric, hidden from sight. You walked over animal skins and pulled aside the sheer fabric to see a man asleep in a thin, billowed cotton shirt, his trousers loose as though he had simply collapsed into bed. Gently, you eased his face to the side and smiled down at the picture of your mysterious suitor. Vladimir’s sleeping face was restful and calm. A smile curled across his face, telling you he had never been asleep. The man reached to grab you with a great laugh, easing you into his lap on the bed, your hips pressed together as he reached to move a veil you did not know you were wearing.

“My love.” His words burned your throat with adoration, “I have missed you. My heart has longed for you.” You watched his lips move to reveal fangs and reached for his face gently, thumbs pressing to the points. He drew your hands away before continuing, “The beast in me cannot be sated without you, my little tamer.” He rushed to kiss you soundly, thoroughly, moulding his front to your own as his hands sought to pull at the silk covering you to reveal skin and flesh.

 You remained silent, soaking in the adoration in his touches and kisses as sharp teeth grazed at your skin.

“I remember your scent.” He purred as his features blended into something more beastly, his red eyes burning as his mouth filled with wolf-like teeth, “I kept your clothes close, everything to remember you.” The beast snarled, a wolfman’s claws tugging at your clothing. You watched the beast, mouth open, wondering where this dream was going as he laid back and pulled you on top of him, “Please, my dearest, let me feel you. I have missed you.” He blathered as you leaned over to kiss him again, tongue catching against the fangs in his mouth, blood mixing with spit. He was cold underneath your hands as you raised yourself, palms against his pectorals. You reached for his groin as he tore his shirt free and pulled his bottoms away enough to reveal his cock. As you grasped him you felt his nose press against your throat, human and cold. Raising your gaze, you looked back at a human shape with a mouth full of teeth, spit dripping between his jaws as they unhinged wide and grasped at your shoulder. With a cry of agony and bliss, you gouged your nails into his back and opened your eyes to see bats fly from the window, screaming into the sunset as your lover’s tongue licked blood from your neck. He dragged you down for another kiss then, blood and spit mixing as you slid him inside of you.

 Dracula felt himself stir in the dream, watching as a woman clad in black slid into his bedchambers. He remembered the woman and played at being asleep on the bed as the faceless creature parted the silks and crawled along his body, fingers teasing over his face, admiring his bone structure before he turned to catch her, dragging her hands up before he grinned with fangs and drew her into his lap.

“I’ve waited for you to return.” He purred, feeling the beasts of the darkness howl and coil outside in the beginnings of the night, “I have missed you.” The vampire drew her wrists closer and licked at the skin exposed out of the silk sleeve, “I have missed the taste of you, my love.”

She said nothing as she mounted his hips, watching through the black veil as he grunted, pushed back against the bed by some invisible force, his wrists pinned to the cushions and furs. Her hands dance over his chest and he feels the pull of his own change, howling as wings spread from his back and claws grab for her. He is naked, he realises with a start, before she draws her fingers between her legs and reveals a wetness to his gaze. The bat-like form howls at the scent, and Dracula pumped his hips upwards as her legs spread and she welcomes him inside of her. The hooked claws of his wings slam into the wooden frame of the canopy bed, anchoring him as his clawed hands reach to pull the veil free.

 Your face peers down at him, a mouthful of blood dripping from your lips as you look at the hole his other wing had made in your chest. He watched the hole between your breasts close and opened his mouth for a bloodied kiss. As he gazed up, claws shredding the silk covering your skin, he slowed his own hips, snarling when you refused to let him slow. A pair of greying wings thrust over his vision, appearing over your head, a thousand eyes glaring at him from within the feathers. The vampire’s claws snapped the faceless woman close, clutching her close before Death’s bony hands covered his eyes, the two eyes within each of the bony palms rolling, looking into his own in the darkness as he felt the form over him melt away into ash in his arms. Darkness crippled him, dragging his form in on itself.

 “She is not yours yet, Dracul.” Death whispered in his ear, “Not unless you can give me what I want?” The cloaked figure appeared before him in the darkness, wings burning with fire that was once radiant.

Dracula snapped his own leathery wings, “What do you want from me so badly?! Is it so worthy of you making my dreams so miserable and tormenting me with the agony I have suffered a thousand times over!?”

Death watched him for a moment before opening its palms, “One death.” He whispered.

“Give me the name.” The vampire hissed.

“Her.” Death offered him a burning flame, “I want her death.” He laid the small burning fire of your life in his hands before stroking the vampire’s leathery wings, “I need her life, but her soul is yours.”

The vampire whipped around with claws and fangs in the darkness, but there was no one there to listen to his dark screams of anguish.

 You awoke to an empty sofa and old horror movies still rerunning. Drac had taken the hounds place in your arms, curled tightly against you. You frowned and looked up as a chilly breeze graced your legs. The open window let in another frigid gust of air and you rushed to close it as a great black smog rushed around the corner of the building, just in the corner of your eyes. You ran a hand through your hair and swallowed as you remembered the dream that had haunted you last night. You clicked off the TV and clicked the hot water on before starting to make yourself some breakfast to distract yourself from the realness of what you had seen.

“Halloween is crazy.” You muttered as you boiled some water for a hot drink.

[wyslyyzr]

erik thoughts on his kids? [eyes emoji]

he loves them. 

okay, thats very shorthand and not much of an elaboration, so i’ll elaborate. how erik feels about his kids is different for each child, but all ultimately surmount to an overwhelming amount of love. 

lorna is the ‘easiest’ of his children to connect with, always has been, especially as i write erik as having been very actively involved in raising her. she got to have a relationship with her father, and though they’ve come to contention over points they disagreed on, erik never has held anything against her. i think they have a similar head for pragmatism and thus connect with one another with more ease than erik does with wanda and pietro, and their similarities work with and for them, as opposed against them, as the way they do with pietro. his relationship never suffering any real strain with lorna has also made it easier to remain close to her. 

pietro is a more volatile topic. again, i cant stress enough, erik loves his kids, very very much. however, his feelings regarding pietro boil down to two points of ‘pietro is an idiot, but he is MY idiot’ and ‘i love you, but i don’t like you’. and its not even that he actually dislikes pietro, its more like.. he is his father, not his friend, and because of pietro’s personal actions--especially those that have damaged the mutant community and harmed and killed his peers--erik holds a deep well of pained disappointment for his son. he wants better of him, wants him to do better, wants to love him without the attachment of frustrated pain--and he does, with time, forgive him for these transgressions--but its hard, especially when pietro pushes when he pulls. their similarities, their stubborn passion, put them against each other. and that pietro resents him for not being in his life growing up--a reality that was ultimately beyond erik’s control, but still the reality of the situation--doesn’t help, as while erik understands it, he does find it unfair. they’re sort of destined to lock horns, but there is no one else he’ll go to bat for like he goes to bat for his children. pietro has literally betrayed and attempted to betray him numerous times and erik still loves him and still welcomes him as his son. 

his feelings regarding wanda are a little more complicated. they’re less inflamed with contention--though there is some of that, especially and particularly regarding m-day and the effects of m-day--and so erik is softer on her, but he also tends to be a little more awkward with her. he treats her more delicately than he does pietro, especially because (to me this is apparent anyway) wanda is clearly very mentally ill, and while erik has no personality disorders or reality affective disorders, he has been through quite a lot to merit the depth of his own ptsd. he understands mental wear and fragility, and with her world changing abilities, he’s careful. he doesn’t treat her like a time bomb waiting to go off, or something fragile, like so many around them, but he is notably more soft spoken when engaging with wanda than he is with pietro. erik admires and adores his daughters, and wanda is of course no exception. since he knows how much the twins support each other and rely on and upon each other, he tries not to intervene with that, but as their father, continues to offer them the kind of love and comfort he can provide. his relationship with them has grown exponentially, and though they will always be his children, he addresses wanda as an adult with her learned experiences, whereas he tends to baby pietro more--not a concern-babying, but a ‘get it together’ babying, a harder hand than wanda needs or ever needed. wanda.. understands, usually, i think, where erik is coming from, what he’s thinking, what he means, etc, whereas pietro seems to understand it less. so it makes things easier. 

but he loves his kids. implicitly. intensely. he will do anything for them, fight anyone, to keep them safe; threaten his children and you threaten him as well.