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been building a collection of posts from like minded individuals

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New "You'll Wake Up One Day" Chapter!

And with this we have FINALLY reached a scene I first envisioned years ago, bringing the delightful Miles Morales into my MCU Fixit >:3

Pepper lifted her hands away from the keyboard and stretched them out, sighing. Only two emails left to answer from her inbox, and with any luck, ten more wouldn’t appear by the time she finished them.

Upstairs, she could faintly hear the sound of Morgan and Peter hollering as they played. It didn’t take a genius to recognize the teen was a diehard Star Wars fan, and with Pepper’s blessing he’d begun to indoctrinate her daughter into the galaxy of rebels and Jedi, which Of Course included lots of new elements added to Morgan’s games of make-believe. One memorable moment during a video conference, several people needed to muffle their laughter at the shouts of ‘Tie fighters incoming!’ and ‘it’s a TRAP!’, but Pepper simply smiled and continued on with her meeting.

She didn’t care how loud the kids got, as long as they kept finishing playtime with matching grins.

Today, though, she only needed to focus on correspondence, mainly in the form of emails exchanged with contractors, a few department heads, and a couple of other parties working on non-Stark Industries projects.

...one of whom apparently decided he needed to pick up the phone, rather than send an email.

“Incoming call from Steve Rogers, Pep.”

“Hn.” Blinking at her screen, it took Pepper to shift her train of thought to a new track. “Uh- go ahead and answer, Friday.”

The call connected a moment later, represented next to Pepper’s laptop via a projected square and frequency indicator. “-should be able to help, I promise-”

“Steve?”

“Hey, Pepper,” the man’s voice came through a little louder, making the harried tone in his voice easier to pick up. “Sorry to bother you, but is there any chance you could put me in touch with Spider-man?”

Considering he was at that very moment upstairs with her daughter, yes, Pepper could do that. “Of course - is there a problem?”

The long sigh that came through did not provide a huge amount of reassurance, but at least if he wasn’t in ‘marching orders mode’ as Tony dubbed it, the mostly-retired hero probably wasn’t calling for an Avengers-level emergency. “Well, not so much of a problem for me, but the teenager stuck to my ceiling could use some advice on how to get down.”

“...run that by me again?”

---

By the time Peter hustled downstairs a few minutes later, summoned by FRIDAY and thankfully sans Morgan, Steve had laid out the basics of a story more amusing than not: meeting a young boy who lived near his Brooklyn apartment during the Blip whose father used to work for SHIELD, accidentally becoming a part-time babysitter, and maintaining a friendship with the family once the child’s mother returned and insisted he come by for dinner twice a month-

“Hold on a moment,” Pepper interrupted, gesturing for Peter to come closer to her desk. “I’ve got Spider-man joining the line now.”

“Captain Rogers?”

“Hey, Queens,” Steve greeted, which made a smile flicker onto Peter’s face. “Quick question to start, how do you make yourself un-stick from things?”

One of the boy’s eyebrows climbed higher up his forehead. “Uh, I just do? It’s not, like, a conscious choice most of the time- like usually you don’t notice your muscles tensing and relaxing, they just do, unless you’re paying attention and try to make them switch from one, to the other...” He trailed off, frowning at the holoscreen. “Um. Why do you ask?”

A slight shift in the pitch of sound indicated Steve likely holding his phone out. “Hey, Miles, did you get that?”

“Yeah,” a second voice answered, younger and further away. “Uh. Hi, Spider-man.”

“Hi?”

“Miles,” Steve continued, “Got bitten by a weird spider last night.” Peter sucked in a sharp breath, both his eyebrows leaping high. “He’s been having trouble all day, and at the moment can’t figure out how to get down from my living room ceiling. Which is fine! I’m glad he came here instead of staying at his boarding school, but we still need to get things sorted before this escalates.”

“No shit,” Peter breathed out, staring at the screen with a thunderstruck expression. “Uh. So. Miles! Hi!”

A faint snort answered him. “Hey.”

“Have you just been sticking to things? Or are you stronger now too?”

“...I broke my room’s windowsill,” the boy on the other end admitted. “Got stuck, and when I tried to pull away, uh. A chunk of wood came with me.”

“Oh man, hey, at least a window’s easier to explain than a door - I managed to snap the knob off mine, my first day, and then broke the hinges too when I panicked.” Another snort, which sounded halfway to a laugh, made Peter grin and lean closer. “And the noise, I thought I would go crazy, hearing what people were saying halfway down the block! The change in my vision was pretty nice, at least, I used to have to wear glasses just so things wouldn’t look like fuzzy blobs.”

“But there’s so much, now! How do you block it out? I blink and suddenly it’s like I’m looking at something in front of my face when it’s across the street!”

“Practice, dude. Which you’re going to get a lot of, sorry- but sometimes it helps to cover your head up to help block things out, go into sensory deprivation mode for a bit so the overstimulation dials down a few notches. Super dark ski goggles, noise-cancelling headphones, that kind of thing. Uh, not that you can really get away with wearing those in school, but just keeping stuff in your backpack and going to the bathroom a lot to use ‘em helps.”

“Is that what you had to do?”

“Yeah, freshman year was hell, I got this reputation for not being able to hold it with how often I asked for the hall pass, but hey, you do what you gotta do, right?” Pepper, listening intently, heard the exact moment Steve sucked in a sharp breath at the mention of ‘freshman year’, but Peter didn’t seem to notice as he kept going. “And gym, don’t get me started on our P.E. classes, I used to be a pipsqueak with asthma who could maybe do bare minimum participation, but after I got bitten it was really hard to remember to hold myself back from lapping, like, the actual athletic kids.”

Over the line, Miles laughed for real, and his voice grew a little louder - a little closer to Steve’s phone? “I mean, my school’s way more focused on STEM and stuff than team sports, but okay.”

Peter grinned a bit wider. “Hey, same here, but even coaches at nerdy institutions can dream of discovering a star player - maybe especially coaches at nerdy schools, Midtown didn’t exactly have much in the way of a decent basketball team.”

“...Midtown Technical High?”

The boy beside her twitched, briefly alarmed, before his face settled back into a tight smile. “Yeah.”

“Dude.” Miles sounded stunned. “I go to Brooklyn Visions Academy.”

Peter blinked. And then he snorted, big and unintentional, a hand clapping over his mouth as if to try and catch it. “Seriously?!”

"Seriously,” the other boy repeated. His voice went flat to add, “Sorry, Cap I don’t think this is gonna work out.” Steve made a questioning noise. “Man, he went to Midtown! MIDTOWN! Do you know how long we’ve had a rivalry with Midtown Technical?!”

“Over twenty years and counting,” Peter chimed in, tone serious, despite the gleeful glint in his eyes.

“Uh, huh? But, not a sports rivalry, I assume?”

“Sure, sports, but more importantly Speech and Debate-”

“Robotics tournaments,”

“-Chess Club,”

“-Marching Band,”

“Decathalon,” both teens said at once, before they broke down into cackling laughter, Peter leaning against Pepper’s desk to keep from falling over. For her part, she just watched with a baffled smile, and figured Steve was probably doing the same on his end.

“Hey, so,” Peter said, once he somewhat recovered himself, “Are you still on the ceiling?”

Miles promptly stopped laughing, stunned silence filling the air for a moment. “Holy shit, dude.”

“All according to kikaku,” Peter hummed, slanting a glance in Pepper’s direction and adding in a stage whisper, “That’s means ‘plan’.”

“Man, that is SUCH an old meme,” Miles complained.

“Which just makes it even funnier! And! You still got it, didn’t you?”

“Only because my uncle has the weirdest sense of humor, like, ever.” After a moment’s pause, the boy continued, more hesitant. “Uh. But still, that’s- thanks. How’d you know that would work?”

“I mean, I didn’t, I just figured a distraction was the best way to help you relax, and we could go from there. But I heard the thump when you hit the floor, so congrats! It’s sounds dumb, but seriously, if you panic and start sticking uncontrollably again, it really does help to do the whole ‘deep breaths, count to ten’ thing.”

As Miles started to grumble about lousy advice, Pepper reached over to ruffle Peter’s hair.

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i can't wait for people to read the fic im writing. i hope i finish it someday

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Most infuriating part of writing is having an idea and thinking oh, this is gonna be so good and wanting to IMMEDIATELY share the vision with other people because it's gonna be good but then you start writing it down and - it is gonna be good. Except. It is also gonna take so, so, so long to finish. And in the meantime. You are the only one with The Vision. Alone. Losing your mind. 😭

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Can't Breathe In (Part 3 WIP)

(So this 'oh it will just be a fun little bit of time travel angst' Thing has been sitting about half-done in my MCU folder for a while now, and I find I'm finally in a mood to try and figure out how to finish it, so y'all are getting a sneak preview while the details are hammered into shape) (Chapters 1 and 2 up on AO3 over here)

Chapter Summary:

Of all the people Peter hoped/expected to find on Earth, though, a glowing woman suddenly flying out of a cloud to land in a crouch on the Warbird’s bow didn’t exactly make the list. “Quill,” Yondu rasps, “What the ever-livin’ fuck is th’ Annihilator doin’ on your backwater planet?!” “The hell’s an Annihilator?” Yondu gives him an ‘are you stupid’ look, and gestures sharply out the window.

---

Not for the first time, Peter wonders what the hell he’s gotten himself into.

He tries not to let it show, sitting in the captain’s seat with his best ‘devil may care’ slouch, staring out the front viewscreen with half-lidded eyes. Perfect for the cover of an old pulp fiction sci-fi novel, if he remembers anything from the collection his mom kept once upon a time. Cool, collected, mysterious-

“Ya look ridiculous, boy.”

-but apparently not to certain jackasses.

“You look ridiculous,” Peter grumbles back, though he does stand up from the seat. Yondu just snorts. For a long minute, both of them stay silent, looking out the Eclector’s viewscreen together. It’s the middle of the ship’s night cycle, most systems in stand-by mode, three quarters of the crew sacked out in bunk rooms on different decks. Peter’s crew included, though last he’d checked they were all staying put aboard the Milano in its docking berth. Groot and Rocket, Drax and a reluctant Nebula, Mantis too since they finished kicking Ego’s ass for the second time.

Gamora.

Still made his stomach lurch, every time he saw her. The memory of Thanos just, taking her, didn’t want to fade as easily as some of his other bad life experiences. Which led to Peter skipping out on getting a full night’s rest, coming up to the Eclector’s bridge instead.

And somehow, Yondu knows it. Or at least guesses at the source of Peter’s restlessness. “Yer girl doin’ better?”

Peter shrugs. Gamora... came back a little different from the rest of them. Maybe a side effect of dying before whatever happened to rewind the past three years. Maybe something to do with the Soul Stone that Thanos traded her life for. Either way, in the weeks since they all woke up in the past, Gamora’s been seeing things. Having visions. They don’t last long, but her eyes glow every time, and there’s always a moment where Peter isn’t sure if she’s going to fall over or not. The few occasions when he’s managed to wheedle her into sharing what she saw, it’s nothing fun. People dying, mostly. Once, Gamora reluctantly described someone Peter thought could only be Stark, the Terran with shiny nanotech armor they fought alongside on Titan, taking his last breath while a woman whispered ‘you can rest now’.

Sets Peter’s teeth on edge, just thinking about it. Stark was very much still alive, last he saw, blasting away at Thanos after they sent his spider kid and the Infinity Stones through a portal back to Earth.

Which is where the Eclector is headed now.

He can see Yondu frowning from the corner of his eye, and tries to change the subject. “Didn’t have to come, y’know.”

The Centaurian promptly snorts, playing along. “Ya drop in outta nowhere, tell me my crew’s full o’ mutineers right ‘fore ya kill Taserface, arrange a meetin’ with Stakar Ogord t’ clear up old mistakes, then try t’ skedaddle off t’ kill that jackass Ego like ya ain’t gonna need no help? Boy, yer gonna be lucky I let you outta my damn sight in the next year.”

Peter lets his head fall back with a groan, even as the corners of his mouth turn up in a grin. “Fuck you, old man.” Yondu promptly thumps him on the shoulder, smirking.

It’s weird, this balance they’ve found. Unexpected. To be entirely honest, Peter really only wanted to drop in to lay eyes on the blue doofus. Check that he really was still breathing, take a couple of preventative steps to make sure he stayed that way, and then go on back to saving the galaxy.

But trying to leave Yondu with an abridged explanation hadn’t ever worked in the past, and it didn’t work this time around, either. Halfway into a bottle of the good alcohol, Peter quietly told the man how he died. One jetpack. One spacesuit. One exploding planet with a rapidly vanishing atmosphere.

And just the two of them, cut off from everyone else.

Yondu got real quiet at that point. Didn’t speak until they’d finished the bottle, sitting alone in his quarters. “Yer ten kinds o’ stupid on a good day, Quill, and more on bad ones. But it don’t matter what kinda dumb shit ya get yerself in, yer still my boy.” They were already side by side, on the floor leaning back against Yondu’s bed, but that was the moment Peter let himself slump over to lean against his dad.

---

Not for the first time, Ben wonders what the hell his family’s gotten into.

Over two weeks spent at the facility called Avengers Compound, and he’s still seeing new faces every day. Doesn’t meet all of them, of course, not when he’s just a tiny piece of the far bigger puzzle being assembled. But he’s gotten pretty good at recognizing who’s a superhero, who’s a secret agent, and who’s a non-time traveling bystander to all this like himself and May.

The newest arrival is definitely a hero.

“Carol,” she introduces herself, wearing a shiny red, blue, and gold suit, with a brown leather jacket not unlike the one Ben himself wore as a young adult. “I woke up in my spaceship orbiting an asteroid after going to sleep in a friend’s palace on a planet halfway across the galaxy.”

“Ah. Y’know, a year ago, I would have said that sounded crazy, but...”

“But there’s a whole weird universe out there,” Carol says dryly, “And once you’ve caught a glimpse, there’s no going back.”

The two of them wound up standing next to each other at the edge of a large meeting room, listening as various people go over what they’ve changed since waking up in the past, and plans for what needs to happen next. Ben’s only present because May kicked him out of Peter’s room to get a break, and he happened to run into Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes before making it to his guest suite. They apologized for not lingering to chat; after briefly explaining why, Ben found himself tagging along. And in a hall full of people up to date on all the time travel ins and outs, the only other person not as informed turned out to be a superhero from space who’d only just arrived that morning.

“Fury already filled me in on the important stuff,” she tells him, when Ben asks if she shouldn’t be paying more attention. “And I won’t be sticking around on Earth for long. My job’s going to be getting a line on Thanos.”

The scary Big Bad everyone considers to be the endgame fight they need to get ready for. Every time his name comes up, Ben can’t help but clench his hands into fists.

Nevermind the guilt Tony tries to assign to himself. Forget all the apologies from other Avengers. Put aside the typical Parker Family Luck, even, and Thanos is the one to blame for Peter getting hurt by the Infinity Stones.

Ben hopes the heroes kick his ass.

The meeting seems to be winding down when something beeps, and Carol glances at a device on her wrist with a frown. Her eyes abruptly widen. But before Ben can ask what’s wrong, the woman lights up with blinding golden light, and an instant later, she’s torn open a window and is vanishing up into the sky.

---

“I still say we should’ve come down in the Milano,” Peter grumbles. In the pilot’s seat of his Warbird, Yondu scoffs. “It’s my home planet! We should’ve used my ship!”

“Yer ship’s a mess a’holes and new welds, boy! We tried takin’ it down, we’d be fallin’ apart the second we hit atmo!”

It’s annoying, because Peter refuses to give in, but at the same time not, because it’s familiar. Arguing with Yondu still drives him up the wall more than an entire pitched fight of himself versus all the rest of the Guardians, but Peter’s missed this, however much it pains him to admit it.

The Warbird slides into the upper reaches of Earth’s atmosphere with hardly a wobble, and his dad shoots him a smug look. Peter flips him a bird of his own in answer.

After a lot of intense ‘debate’ when they first woke up back in time, the Guardians laid out a simple plan of priorities: kill Taserface. Kill Ego. Kill Thanos. So far, they’re two for three, with the added bonuses of getting Yondu on their side, as well as the other 99 Ravager Clans. (It was kinda funny, actually, Stakar Ogord making a face like he’d just sucked on a lemon when Peter was able to say almost all of the man’s arguments and insults first. And it felt extra satisfying to see him and Yondu exchange a couple of pulled punches before shifting to more friendly shoulder slaps.)

However.

Even a thousand Ravagers would be hard-pressed going up against the forces Thanos commanded, so Peter figured they’d be better off grabbing some more allies with powerful resources in their corner. Stark and his superstrong kid, for sure, but more importantly Strange, with the Time Stone that could hopefully find the best plan of attack for them to use, and maybe the armies of Asgard, if Thor happened to be around.

Of all the people Peter hoped/expected to find on Earth, though, a glowing woman suddenly flying out of a cloud to land in a crouch on the Warbird’s bow didn’t exactly make the list.

Yondu promptly swears.

The whole ship bucks, shoved out of its flight path by an immense pressure, and the Centaurian hauls back on the controls to bring them to a halt. Just in time, too - through the viewscreen, Peter can see armor plating dented where the woman hit them.

She slowly rises from her crouch, feet braced, fists clenched. Eyes blazing like miniature suns, she glares at them through the glass.

“Quill,” Yondu rasps, “What the ever-livin’ fuck is th’ Annihilator doin’ on your backwater planet?!”

“The hell’s an Annihilator?”

Yondu gives him an ‘are you stupid’ look, and gestures sharply out the window.

“Yeah I got that,” Peter snaps back, making his own gesture. “But I don’t know who she is! Or what she’s doing here!” Still standing on the ship outside, apparently unbothered by the thin atmosphere despite not wearing any visible mask or breathing gear, the woman’s head tips a little to one side.

“That’s the crazy d’astard that ripped apart the Kree Supreme Intelligence,” snarls Yondu. “Even Ronan was scared a’the Annihilator!”

Oh. Huh. “Then how come I ain’t ever heard of her?”

“Maybe you pulled yer head out yer ass more often, boy-!” An alarm shrieks. The sound of tearing metal is audible through the ship. Outside, the woman is gone.

There’s only a split second between the moment Peter realizes they might very well be screwed and putting himself in-between Yondu and the cockpit’s entrance, weapons at the ready. A sharp whistle from his dad sends the familiar yaka arrow hovering over Peter’s shoulder, humming with its own deadly red glow.

Golden light fills the doorway first, and then the Annihilator steps into view, one hand braced against her hip. “Hi.”

“...hey,” Peter replies. Yondu gives a sharp jab to his shoulder blade, but he ignores that.

“You with Thanos or not,” she asks, and that puts a whole new spin on the situation, doesn’t it?

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Every unhinged fic writer needs an equally unhinged friend who "yes ands" their ideas and encourages them to write all their most far fetched and insane stories.

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"should we tell authors on ao3 when we have discord conversations about their fics" i don't speak for everyone here but if y'all ever find a group chat discussing my fics you can should must and WILL send me screenshots of the whole damn thing. inflate my ego. gimme

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It me.

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WEEKLY FIC RECCOMENDATIONS

01-07.07.2025

Given the massive amount of fics I read on regular I have decided to start a weekly list of the best fics I have (re)read the past week. It will be a grabbag mix of fandoms, ratings and pairings, for I rarely focus on just one thing. So, without further ado -

Fandoms Batman, Conclave, Columbo, The West Wing

BATMAN

The Joker is Dead (Long Live the Joker) by @triscribe Teen and up, 2.5k words, complete

Bruce double-checks, but the single shot tore clear through Joker’s throat, leaving nothing but a bloody mess that no one could have survived. He spares half a moment to wonder who among the madman’s victims the cop wanted to avenge. A familiar cackle reaches his ears. Bruce’s head snaps back around.

There are only very few fics that play with the whole "Who is Joker, anyway" question as good as this fic.

CONCLAVE (2024)

And Am I Born To Die by @zjofierose Teen and up, 3k words, complete

It isn't even a red state, Thomas thinks to himself inanely when it happens. They're in California, supposedly one of the great liberal bastions of the United States, and yet the politics of the state make absolutely no difference to the way the blood blooms hot and bright across Vincent's white robes, no difference to the way he falls, all at once, a puppet whose strings have suddenly been severed.

I am a sucker for assassination fics and this one combined with the aftermath of it, with the unreliable narrator that is Thomas is just delicious.

Nasoni by @onthearrow Teen and up, 29k words, complete

“It seemed cruel,” Thomas says, “for you to have not seen Rome properly. And so you shall.” ___ Thomas and Vincent sneak out of the Vatican to spend an anonymous day in Rome. (Also, Vincent doesn't want Thomas to resign. Thomas doesn't want to go.)

There are not many fics that manage to weave a story out of two timelines that slowly complete each other without it feeling clunky and me being able to guess the plot points well into the advance, but this one did it perfectly.

One Night in Rome by Darkhorse Mature, 1.5k words, WIP

One of Vincent's Incognito trips into the Eternal City does not go to plan

The first chapter managed to hook me right in and I cannot wait to read the rest. This fandom needs more Vincent and the Swiss guards interactions.

All I Want is to Flip a Switch, Before Something Breaks That Cannot be Fixed by @motheroftheantichrist Mature, 13.5k words, complete

Sometimes when Vincent looked at his dean, it wasn’t Thomas he saw staring back. OR Vincent witnesses the result of Thomas' self-destructive tendencies. It brings back both old memories and new realizations.

"Fall in Love in a Single Touch, and Fall Apart When it Hurts Too Much" from Vincent's perspective - I reccomend reading that one first to truly appreciate the genius of this work. It has all a guy could wish for - dual timeline, grief, peril, Vincent that is not just all smiles and sunshine, the creeping realization that the past(present) wont have happy ending, but also Thomas being confronted with his self destruction tendencies and the love that others have for him.

Agent of Grace: Spy Ray AU by bongbingbong Mature, 9k words, wip, SERIES

Raymond O'Malley's real employer isn't Thomas Lawrence. It's MI6, or more specifically, Gareth Mallory, who wants to keep an eye on his twin brother.

Badass Ray! Competent Vincent! Action! Secret service! Each ficlet in this series is truly a gift.

COLUMBO

My Eyes Adored You by zetaophiuchi (@hallo-catfish) Mature, 18k words, complete

The day Frank Columbo met Eugenio Franchitti was a day blessed by God: God and all the real angels and saints, specifically Adjutor, Philip Neri, and Barbara. The war was going full swing; on the beach there were the leftovers, the women and boys and girls, and the oldest Franchitti kids who hadn’t shipped overseas, Geno and Cecilia, first cousins. Frank hadn’t noticed ’em at first, either of ’em, the tall and lanky boy and girl with skin like gold and eyelashes like fringed velvet burlesque fans, physical traits the magazines said you could shell out for but the Franchitti kids had ’em in spades all natural; but once he had he couldn’t stop noticin'. The story of how Columbo and Mrs. Columbo came to be.

Reading this story felt like lazing around in warm bedsheets on Saturday. The way dialogue is written in this fic fits Columbo so well, the meandering glide of it and thats all without even mentioning the vocabulary and period typical slang the author uses even when writing the rest of the story. Truly a delight to read. (Also yes another story with great timeline jumps. Do I have a type? Maybe)

THE WEST WING

How Do You Like Your Blue-Eyed Boy, Mr. Death? by Nomad (nomadicwriter) for imperfectcircle Gen, 1k words, complete

Death comes for Josiah Bartlet.

I love Discworld Death in other fandoms, and this one managed to not only fit in perfectly but to riff of Jed so nicely.

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what they dont tell you is being obsessed with your own ocs and projects also makes you more obsessed with everyone elses ocs and projects. its a beautiful feeling

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Every unhinged fic writer needs an equally unhinged friend who "yes ands" their ideas and encourages them to write all their most far fetched and insane stories.

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"why do you write?" because it’s the only way to silence the characters pacing around my brain like victorian ghosts with unresolved issues that prevent them from moving on.

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the best writing experience is when you're going and then something organically manifests out of subtext or brief asides that you weren't even expecting in the first place. woah i didn't know we were doing that but alright guys let's see where we can take it

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I don’t know if anyone has ever done this before but, here ya go… The Different Types of Fanfiction! 

I probably left a few out, but these are the most common, compared to their base fiction’s canon plot. Enjoy! XD