#actually might be one of my top three favorite whump tropes

[whump-is-love-whump-is-life]

An idea: whumpee bound with their hands behind their back and a collar around their neck.

The key is dangling from the collar, right against their throat

YOU. I LIKE YOU.

Make sure their hands/wrists are also attached to a wall or smth though, otherwise they’ll just use the trick™️ to bring their hands to the front.

BUT YES YES YES. Oh imagine that helplessness, the humiliation— having the literal key to your freedom so close yet so far. A perfect taunt. Bonus if whumper pulls them forward by and/or generally manhandles them by the key.

[jinxquickfoot]

20 Questions for Writers

I was tagged by @16woodsequ. Thank you!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

82!! And that's counting the one-shot collections as 1 fic.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,572,787

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Still in Marvel, although I've had a few ideas around Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss that I probably would written if my MCU WIP list wasn't so impossibly long.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

The One Where Peter is Bucky's Weakness

Let's Whump the Spider-Kid and Friends!

The One Where Peter is Tony's Weakness

You're Always Spider-Man

The One Where Clint is Tony's Weakness

You guys really like it when I kidnap Peter Parker.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Of course!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

The Worst Thing, it's the only ending I wouldn't call 'happy'. I labelled it 'bittersweet' instead, which I think is fitting. Actually Dollhouse also is a strong contender.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Let's Whump the Spider-Kid and Friends! teeters on the edge of soppy. Everyone is alive post-Endgame, Peter gets a prom with all the Avengers and his high school friends, and the Spider-Kid in question gets a whole month of rest.

In hindsight, I wrote that fic during pretty extreme burnout (that I am now thankfully over), and I can see my need for rest and care just bleeding through Peter in those final chapters. I'm so grateful we both got what we needed.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not for a long time, since the debates over Civil War have... if not settled, maybe don't hold as much interest as they used to.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not yet, but I think I might be brave and include some Winterhawk smut in the Heart of Stone series.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Nope.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. I've come across one or two with eerily similar premises and wondered, but I've never followed up. Tropes are tropes for a reason.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not a translation but Hair is Everything has a podfic!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Many! And tried to many at the same time which was a mistake, but I'm so glad I've gotten to work with so many incredible authors:

The One Where Clint is Steve's Weakness with @16woodsequ

The One Where T'Challa is Shuri's Weakness with @fluencca

The One Where Bruce is Thor's Weakness with @onwardmeteors

The One Where Peter is Peter's Weakness with @spagbol99

The One Where Bucky is Steve's Weakness with @usaonetwothree

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Winterhawk aka Clint/Bucky has my heart forever and ever, but I have a soft spot for Clint/Matt and Wanda/Vision as well. Outside of Marvel, I love reading for Stede/Ed, Husk/Angel, Caleb/Essek and Buck/Eddie.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you will?

If I've posted it, I'll finish it (I swear, I know I haven't touched the Whumptoberverse in three years). I do have an outline for something called the Amendment trilogy which I thought had some promise, but I've done so many Civil War Fix-Its now I doubt it has anything original to say these days.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I don't think my plot twists are too shabby, and I like to think that I find new things to say about well-worn characters and tropes. I'm also pretty damn good at structure, but that's because I studied and practised the hell out of it. Oh and occasionally I like to think I'm funny, especially when writing for Tony.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Sometimes I focus too much on getting a fic done than letting it breathe. I've been told several times the ending to The One Where Peter is Bucky's Weakness is disappointing, and I agree. I was ready to get out of there so I Game of Throned it instead of spending a good 5-10 chapters wrapping that fic up properly.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Short bits are fine if you pop the translation in the end notes. If not, I like to just say something like, "He switched to Russian [continues dialogue in English]."

19. First fandom you wrote for?

MCU and we're still going, baby.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

AH okay I want to include all those I co-wrote but that feels like cheating, because what I like about those fics is often what other people brought to them.

I used to say Budapest and that's still a strong contender. But I actually love The One Where Clint is Sam's Weakness, specifically the final chapter. The idea of mistakes and regrets and choices not making you who you are is a very personal thing for me. Clint saying "You’re my hero, Kate." might be my favorite line I've ever written in a fic. Sometimes the simplest ones are the best.

Low pressure tag: @fluencca @usaonetwothree @queenofalotofdifferentworlds @spagbol99 @teeelsie-posts

[andavs]

Any chance for a outside POV of Sterek? Maybe from the POV of Stiles new uni friends? I just really love your writing and outside POV stories

She wasn’t going to ask.

They had a silent understanding, she and Stiles, and years of her dad quoting old westerns had taught her that you do not break a silent understanding, nor do you address it before your deathbed. Or if her mom was anything to go by, after your death, in a handwritten letter, shoved in a drawer behind three earmarked romance novels and a sandwich bag of weed. Either way, death was the deciding factor.

She and Stiles were both still alive, so she wasn’t going to get involved.

It was kind of their thing, not getting involved. They both valued their privacy, which was why they worked so well as roommates, why they decided to move in together for sophomore year and junior year after that. It wasn’t that they’d become particularly close in their Intro to Psych class freshman year, it was that they had both been assigned horrendously nosy and obtrusive roommates and they both happened to end up in the library at odd hours to get away from them.

A month of not acknowledging each other avoiding their respective roommates in the same place had eventually become studying together for psychology, and then silent company while doing work for their other classes. They worked well together, studying their individual subjects across from each other in the library. Stiles would mutter to himself as he worked, tapping his pen or the keys of his laptop absently while he thought and fidgeted, and Emma couldn’t hear any of it over her headphones.

Perfect.

So, working from a friendship built on a shared appreciation for Battlestar Galactica and leaving each other alone, it was odd and also frustrating that Emma now found herself wanting to ask, because while Stiles had always been a little shifty, harmlessly so, he was taking it to a whole new level.

He researched for hours on end from ancient library books that looked mostly stolen on subjects that certainly weren’t for his criminal psychology classes, and then bolted from the apartment at three in the morning, unheard from until he fell back through the door three days later. He had vague and slightly threatening phone calls at all hours, he was sleeping even less than he usually did, and Emma had found a dagger of all things jammed under the couch cushion where he’d taken a “nap” (passed out from exhaustion).

Not that she really paid attention to all that, or anything.

The point was that Stiles had become seriously sketchy recently, and Emma wanted to know why. She wasn’t proud of it; she didn’t actually want to admit it to herself because silent understanding, but Kyle of all people had even noticed the difference and Kyle used TV Tropes to classify real people in real life. When Kyle picked up on odd human behavior, something was up, and it was getting impossible to ignore.

But again, silent understanding. She was conflicted, and the list of things she wasn’t asking about was getting longer and longer as the semester dragged on.

Like the bloodstained shirt she found wadded up in the bathroom.

Or the jars of herbs that didn’t do anything if they were hypothetically rolled up and smoked.

Or Tall, Dark, and Leather who sometimes appeared from Stiles’ room when he definitely hadn’t come in through the front door to begin with, but that was a whole different set of questions.

Whatever Stiles was doing, it was escalating, that much she knew. He slept less, ate less, came out of his room less, and if Emma remembered the symptoms correctly, he was abusing his Adderall like there was no tomorrow.

She was curious, okay, and that silent understanding was getting harder and harder to honor.

At least until she got something of an answer one very early Monday morning while writing a paper. Stiles had been gone over the weekend, leaving Thursday immediately after his last lecture without so much as a bye Emma, see in you three days if I’m not dead or in jail.

She’d been writing a paper due the next day (or just later that same day if she was being honest with herself) and not getting very far between listening to music and the internet in general. So, the usual writing process.

The song came to an end and in the moment of silence before the next, she heard the front door open. Her eyes flicked to the clock on her laptop instinctively; after 4am. Just as the next song was fading in, a set of metallic keys hit the wooden floor and hushed whispering floated in through her open bedroom door.

“Dude, be careful, Emma’s studying.”

“Would you rather I dropped you?”

Emma’s finger dragged along the touchpad of her computer, turning the volume in her headphones down to nothing, curiosity getting the better of her. She thought she’d met most of Stiles’ friends by now, but she didn’t recognize the other voice. There was shuffling and some swearing, and she just managed to keep herself from getting up to see what the hell was going on.

“Ow, fuck, fuck, not there—oh my god not there.”

“Stiles, there isn’t anywhere else to hold you, so deal with it or do this on your own.”

In the reflection on her laptop screen, Emma could just make out a mass of two silhouettes slowly moving through the dark room past her open door, illuminated from behind by the streetlamps outside. They hobbled together awkwardly out of view, pausing to swear again when something else fell. This time they left it on the floor.

“Could you maybe try to be little nicer? I did just save your ungrateful hide—literally.”

They finally made it to Stiles’ room and the whump of body falling onto bed, followed by Stiles’ drawn out groan of fuuuuuuuuck, made Emma wince.

“Don’t look at me like that, I told you to stay at the loft tonight,” the other person growled to what must have been one of Stiles’ loaded glares.

“I have class at 8:30.”

“You’re not going to class.”

“Uh, yeah actually, I am going to class. I have to, because thanks to you and Scott, I’ve missed the last two discussions and my GSI is getting pissy.”

This was news; it seemed like Stiles was always back in time for his classes and was, miraculously, staying on top of his schoolwork through a combination of Adderall and sheer determination. In fact, one of his favorite pastimes was kicking people out of the apartment while threatening that if he lost his scholarship because they wouldn’t let him study, his tuition would be coming out of their allowances.

“We told you to stay out of it.”

“And if I had you would be doing a fantastic impression of Lady Cassandra right now, you’re welcome.”

She got the reference, or she thought she did, but then Stiles always seemed to be speaking in double entendres. He had developed an entire foreign language in plain English solely to avoid telling anyone anything. Most of the time she just let it and let him have his secrets, but she was starting to regret that now that it seemed like his secrets had gotten him hurt.

“Stiles…” the other man started through a sigh, only to be interrupted by Stiles in that tone he used in class when he knew he’d just won an argument.

“Derek.”

“Just go to sleep.”

“Kind of hard to with your eyebrows looming over me, dude.”

Derek’s reply was instant, habit. “Don’t call me dude.”

“Seriously,” Stiles continued after a pause, “sit down or something, you’re freaking me out.”

There was a labored sigh and the door clicked shut, the continuing conversation muffled to murmurs. Emma sagged in disappointment and frustration and turned back to the glowing laptop screen staring back at her. There was no way she was going to be able to focus on her paper now.

*

It was creeping into 6am when Emma gave in and admitted to herself that she wasn’t going to get any more of her paper written in her current state. Stiles’ distracting entrance had completely derailed her train of thought and it wasn’t getting back on track any time soon; the last hour and a half of writing rambling sentences and then deleting them over and over had proven that far too many times. She looked at the clock, realized she had to leave for class in two hours, and let out a quiet dry sob as she accepted that she wasn’t going to be sleeping even a little bit tonight.

She gathered up her collection of dirty coffee mugs and bowls and made her way out to the kitchen, bowls stacked and mugs hanging precariously from her fingers. She paused at the dining table to flip the light switch with her knee, a skill she had been honing and was actually really proud of, and sucked in a terrified gasp (along with half a scream and probably her tongue) when the light revealed the most intimidating man she had ever seen sitting a foot away from her at the table, staring up at her from the book in his hands.

She didn’t realize she’d dropped a coffee mug until he was holding it up for her to take, the cold remaining coffee splashed up his forearm.

Emma staggered past Stiles’ now-open door into the kitchen, adrenaline rushing and her pounding heart leaping up into her lungs to meet her tongue that she must’ve swallowed because what just happened?

Still clutching three bowls to her chest, now-empty mug swinging from her pinky, she turned to see who she really hoped was Derek holding out the other mug and being far too calm about all this. A serial killer would probably be calm about this, some detached part of her brain threw out casually, and her chest clenched again.

“Please don’t freak out,” he stated quietly, and Emma let out a strangled whimper instead of the scream that it had started as.

Hopefully-Derek paused, eyes flicking to the side and head turning towards the wall the kitchen shared with Stiles’ room as if listening. Emma didn’t know what he was expecting to hear; she was pretty sure her heart was beating loud enough to drown out any noise Stiles might be making. The guy slept like the dead anyway, when he actually slept. The one time she’d forgotten her keys, he’d slept through her calling his phone, banging on the door, and throwing rocks at his window trying to get his attention.

She put the bowls and mugs on the counter while she organized the rush of thoughts she wanted to voice; everything from who are you to please don’t kill me. She settled on what she categorized as the most important as she turned back to face slightly worried eyebrows staring back at her. Her sock was soaking up cold coffee from the linoleum.

“What the—” she started to demand, cut off at Maybe-Derek’s pointed look, then started again in a violent whisper, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m a friend of Stiles.” The way he said it made it sound like it should be all the explanation necessary, and he was so sure of himself that it actually took Emma a moment to realize that no, that was not a sufficient answer at all.

“Okaaay, why are you sitting at our table, in the dark, at six in the morning?” He glanced away, then back again, like she was the one acting strange and he was looking for someone to back him up. “That’s not something that a friend of Stiles generally does,” she elaborated.

“I was reading.”

“In the dark?”

“It’s more than bright enough with the streetlights.”

“Why didn’t you just turn on a light?”

“Why are you asking so many questions?”

“Why are you here?”

Something metal hit the floor from Stiles’ room and they stilled; Derek instinctively took a step towards the kitchen door and paused while Emma just stared, wondering what the fuck was going on. Sheets rustled and Stiles groaned something like nngh, fuck before going quiet again.

Derek stepped out and closed the bedroom door softly, then returned to his seat at the dining table like their conversation had ended and everyone was satisfied with the outcome.

The whole thing was just ridiculous enough for Emma to push it aside and realize that even for a friend loitering in their apartment for two solid hours in the dark, Derek was acting weird; like he was standing guard outside of Stiles’ closed door.

“Seriously, why are you still here?” Emma pulled out the chair opposite and parked herself in it, wanting answers. “Is something wrong with Stiles?”

“He’s fine,” Derek answered shortly after an incredibly suspicious pause.

“What’s wrong with him.”

“He’s fine.”

“He didn’t sound fine when you guys came in.”

Derek huffed out a frustrated breath through his nose. “It’s nothing serious. You can go to bed, I’m taking care of him.”

Coming from a guy with his glare, that sounded more like a threat than a reassurance. Time to get serious.

“What happened to him?” she asked, and Derek immediately countered with,

“We got jumped.”

“By?”

“People.”

“Where?”

“Fourth.”

“And?”

“Ashley.”

“That intersection doesn’t exist.”

“Not in this city.”

Emma glared and sat back in her chair. She hoped her glare conveyed touché well enough that she wouldn’t have to actually say it.

“He’ll be okay?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“You’re qualified to decide that?”

“And I’ll take care of him if he’s not.”

Again, ominous coming from this guy.

“That sounds like you're going to kill him.” Derek frowned, looking genuinely hurt by that. “No offense, but you just have that vibe.”

“Thanks,” he deadpanned, and Emma could only think to awkwardly repeat,

“No offense.”

Instead of the expected, none taken, Derek just turned back towards Stiles’ bedroom door. Like a very stubbly and glare-y guard dog. Who was worried about making too much noise and waking Stiles up. And appeared to have driven the almost three hours to Berkeley from Beacon Hills because Stiles wanted to get to class in the morning.

Right. So looking at all the facts, probably more likely a boyfriend than a murderer.

“Okay, so,” she started sidestepping towards the bathroom, “I should shower. Because I’ve been up all night writing a paper. Listening.”

Derek nodded.

“If you hear me drowning myself, just let it happen.”

He nodded again.

“Keep an eye on Stiles.”

No nod that time, just a raised eyebrow, like she was an idiot for thinking he could possibly do otherwise.

“Alright, goodnight.” She was fully in the bathroom now, but weirdly reluctant to close the door completely yet.

Derek just went back to his book, because it really didn’t matter to him what she did, and then she felt weird for being so aggressive about it.

She shut the door and pressed her ear against the wood, listening. It was dead silent out there, not even the sound of the old wood floor creaking with someone walking. It seemed that Derek really was just going to sit there and read in silence.

Emma started the shower, waited another few minutes, and then wrenched the door open as fast as she could.

Derek slowly looked up with raised eyebrows, still in the exact same position he’d been in before, right down to his finger tucked between pages to mark a spot.

“Just checking,” Emma informed him, and closed the door again.

When she finished and came back out in her robe, Derek was gone, the room silent, the book was laying on the table. But his leather jacket was hanging on the back of the chair, and his shoes were kicked off neatly against the baseboards next to Stiles’ closed bedroom door.

[whumppile]

I saw your favorite whump trope post, I was wondering if you could do that with peter shielding tony from an explosion? Your Spider-man is great!

Thanks! I’m glad you think so! Tbh tho I cannot remember exactly what that post was? But the Peter shielding Tony from an explosion I can totally do! Sorry this took so long but I hope you like it, I had fun writing it and as always thank you for the prompt and for supporting my writing it means a lot to me!

This ones called “Human shield.” I’ll post it on my other accounts and please tell me if you like it?

“And this can be your lab, if you want. I know how much youlove science, and Bruce and I were even thinking we could- “

Peter never would have heard it if he didn’t have enhancedhearing; and Tony didn’t notice it at all, but his words were immediately tunedout as Peters skin crawled.

Something wasn’t right; he could feel it in his gut, but hecouldn’t pinpoint what it was until he realized what he was hearing.

Ticking. And it was coming from behind the wall, rightbehind the light switch that Tony was reaching for.

Peter should have been faster, he should have stopped him intime, but Tony managed to flip the switch before Peter could grab his hand.

Peter could hear the bomb activate. He didn’t have time tothink, he barely had enough time to move at all, but he managed to shove Tonybackwards, and use his own body to shield him from the blast as, what once wasthe pristine lab, exploded.

…

In an instant Tony’s world became nothing but heat, andlight, and sound.

His ears rang from the blast, and it took him a moment torealise he was on the ground, momentarily blind from the fire raging aroundthem.

His instincts kicked in after a second, and he realisedthere was a limp teenager sprawled across his chest.

“Peter!” His voice was raw from the smoke and heat, and hecoughed as he tried to sit up.

A hand stopped him, as a hurried, concerned voice, met hismuffled ears.

“Don’t move! I’ve got medics coming, and a bomb squad, justdon’t move.”

Tony blinked up at the figure leaning over him, squinting ashe tried to work out who it was. Happy.

The man knelt beside the two and gently placed two fingersat Peters throat. Tony watched his face and didn’t like what he saw.

“Is he okay?”

Happy paused, expression pale and worried, as his gazeroamed over Peter’s back.

“He’s alive Tony, but…just don’t move. The medics will behere soon. Are you hurt anywhere?”

Tony went to brush his concern away but reconsidered anddecided to actually check. He could move everything, and he didn’t feel as ifhe were in any pain, apart from the small bump on the head he’d gotten whenPeter had pushed him down.

Happy watched Tony, waiting for his answer, as he grabbed afire extinguisher and put out the small fires that flickered in the wreck ofthe ruined lab.

Tony shook his head, and placed a hand behind Peter’s head,brushing at the teenager’s hair in an offer of comfort. It was a small gesture,but it was all he could do.

“I’m okay, Peter pushed me out of the way. He saved me.What’s wrong with him?”

Happy visibly relaxed at Tony’s answer, shoulders sagging asa sigh fell from his mouth. He placed the extinguisher down, and rubbed a handover his forehead, eyes not meeting Tony’s as the medics finally arrived.

“…he’ll be okay.” That wasn’t an answer.

Tony’s heart raced as he tried to piece together what waswrong with his kid, from the expressions of everyone around him.

A stretcher was pulled out, and someone mentioned possiblespinal injuries. It was agony, knowing something was wrong, but not knowingwhat it was or how bad it could be. He just needed answers.

Happy stood back, to allow the medics through, and his facewas pinched in concern.

He couldn’t think of what could possibly be wrong, somethingthat would make the medics reluctant to move Peter off him, until he feltsomething.

It dripped. Tony could hear the patters on the floor, andfeel the warm wetness seep into his own shirt. Too much of it. His hands grewdamp with it and his heart raced as he carefully lifted one for him to see.

Happy tried to stop him, but it was too late.

“Oh god, Peter.” Blood was streaked across his palm,dripping off his fingers and staining the lines in his skin. There was toomuch.

Tony’s chest tightened, as if someone had placed a bandacross it began squeezing. Happy’s voice met his ears, but it was warped anddistant.

He was finding it harder to breathe, and then he stoppedaltogether, when the limp form on top of him moved.

It was a tiny shift, but it was followed by a painedwhimper, and Tony sucked in a breath as he brought his hand back up to the backof Peter’s head, weaving his fingers in his hair.

“It’s okay, kid. Stay still, you’ll be all right.”

The teenager squirmed minutely, and let out a weak cry, hishands finding Tony beneath him, and gripping handfuls of his shirt.

“…Tony? Ugh, it…it hurts.”

The teenager was barely conscious, eyes blinking open toreveal his glassy gaze. He was clearly confused; and all he wanted was Tony.

The medics began frantically trying to get both heroes tostay still, as Peter became more, and more desperate to move.

The teenager let go of Tony, to put his shaky hands on thefloor, and push himself up, but he immediately screamed in pain. He fell backonto Tony’s chest, tucking his face into his mentor’s shoulder.

“Ughnn…What is that? Why does it hurt so much?” His tone wasbecoming more panicked, his words wet and slightly strangled as he started tocry.

Happy came over and knelt down, taking one of Peter’s handsfrom Tony’s shirt, and squeezing his fingers.

“Peter, I know it hurts, and I know you’re scared, but Ineed you to try to take some calm breaths. Can you do that?”

Peter let out a whimper and Tony patted at his hair. “Ithurts to breathe.”

Happy nodded but remained calm. “I know, try to take smallbreaths through your tummy, not your chest, so your back doesn’t have to moveso much. Tony and I are right here with you, you’ll be okay.”

Peter closed his eyes as he focussed, doing as he was told,flinching only when one of the medics placed a needle in his hand.

Happy squeezed Peters fingers, his tone about as warm as itever got.

“There you go, that’s it.”

The needle in Peters hand was taped down, and the medicaddressed the three men on the floor. “I’ve given him some pain relief. Peter,you might start to feel a little sleepy, but I need you to stay awake for justa little while until we get you properly checked out, okay?”

Peter hummed in acknowledgement, relaxing just a little asthe pain began to ease.

The medic spoke again, eyes flicking between Happy andPeter. “How long was he unconscious before we got here?”

Tony patted Peters hair again, as the kid grew heavieragainst him, as much ti calm himself as the teenager.

“Just a minute or so, I think. He wouldn’t wake up.”

The medic nodded, and motioned her colleagues to bring thestretcher forward.

They waited just a moment, for the pain meds to make Peterfloppy and relaxed, rather than the tense and shaky mess he had first been whenhe’d woken up.

Peter was breathing easier, and under enough of themedication that he was no longer able to formulate words, only let out mumblesand moans in response to the medic speaking to him.

“We’re going to lift you onto the stretcher, and it may hurtbut I want you to stay floppy okay? Just relax and let us do all the work. Keepbreathing, and squeeze Mr Hogan’s hand if it hurts too much, and we’ll stop.”

Peter let out a small grunt in confirmation, eyes blinkingslow as the medics all gathered around and held a different part of Peter.

“Lift on three, ready? One, two, three.”

Tony didn’t know what to expect to see when they liftedPeter, and although he promised not to say anything, so as not to scare Peter,he couldn’t help but let out a small breath at the sight of him.

“Oh, Peter.”

Peters back was a mess of glass, and shrapnel, his shirt andskin shredded in the wake of all that glass that had broken in the explosion.It stuck up from his back like the trees of a forest, imbedded deep and leakingblood.

The red coated every inch of his back, dripping down hissides and arms, soaking what was left of his shirt.

Tony felt sick, and Happy took his shoulder in comfort,other hand still holding Peters.

The young hero was lifted away, Happy going with him. Tonywent to follow, only for one of the medics to push him back to the ground. “Sir,I need you to stay down so I can check you over.”

The billionaire may have hit his head, but he had nointerest of being kept from Peter, and he brushed their hands away as he got tohis feet.

“I’m fine. I want to go with him.”

The medic didn’t look happy about it, but didn’t argue, asthey followed the others to where Peter was being taken to the med bay.

Happy was standing beside the bed, that Peter had beenplaced in, but turned to Tony as he came in. “You should be sitting down,getting yourself checked out.”

Stark was just about sick of hearing that, and he shook hishead, ignoring the way it ached, as he watched the kid in the bed. “He savedme, Happy, and he’s hurt because of it. I couldn’t care less about how I feelright now.”

Happy looked like he wanted to say something else, when Peterlet out an unhappy grunt and tried to move away from the hands lifting hiseyelids to shine a light at them. His legs kicked weakly in the bed, as hetried to turn away from the bright light, and Happy quickly placed a hand atthe back of his head, keeping him still. “Shh, Pete. You’re okay.”

It was difficult to understand the teenager, with the drugsmaking it so hard for him to speak, but Tony heard his name and that wasenough.

“Hmm…T-Tony…want…Ton…where’s?”

Stark raced over, quickly crouching down so that Peter couldblink open his heavy eyes and see him. “I’m here kid, I’m right here.”

Peters eyes took a while to focus, gaze sliding around likehe was too tired to look at one thing for long; but when he found Mr Starksface, his face melted into a lazy smile.

“You’re ‘kay?”

The youngest Avenger’s hand pawed clumsily at his mentor’schest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, and Tony lifted his own handto grip it comfortingly.

“I’m okay. You saved me, Pete.” The words made Tony feelheavy with guilt, which only grew worse as the medics began pulling glass fromPeters back.

“I’m so sorry you got hurt. You should never be in anydanger when you’re here, and I’m going to make sure, whoever planted that bomb,is found and locked away. I’m going to take care of you, Spider-baby.”

Peter’s eyes slipped closed, as he let out a soft sigh. “Fift…eens’not…baby, Mr S…tark.”

Tony’s heart clenched, as Peter’s hand grew limp in hishold, but the medic closest to him reassured that it was okay. “He’s got aconcussion, but he can sleep for now. We’ll wake him up routinely, but he shouldbe okay. It might be better if he sleeps for this part anyway.”

Tony couldn’t agree more.

It took so long for all the glass and shrapnel to be pulledout, and every wound cleaned and dressed, but Tony and Happy stayed the wholetime.

Peter was breathing easier, as he lay on his stomach in thebed, heavy meds flowing to keep him calm and pain free. His hand was limp inTony’s, fingers occasionally curling in his sleep.

He looked so young when he slept, and Tony was once againstruck by how deeply he cared for the kid that he’d found on youtube, fightingcrime in pyjamas.

Happy let out a small chuckle from where he sat on the otherside of the bed. “I never thought I’d be so worried about a fifteen-year-old. Hell,I never thought you would either but…the number of voicemails I’ve had tolisten to from this turd?”

Tony laughed at the fond way Happy called the kid a turd, asif it were a veiled compliment rather than a child’s version of cursing.

He nodded, agreeing. “Believe me, this is weird for me too. Hewas just some newbie hero that I brought into a fight. I thought I could helphim get started as a proper Avenger; I never thought I’d be losing my mind withworry over him. Kind of makes me hate my dad even more. I can’t help myselffrom checking up on Peter every goddamn minute he’s not in my sight, and my dadbarely even looked at me.”

Happy shrugged just a little, sinking further down into hischair as if he were about to take a nap.

“Well, you always said you never wanted to become yourfather, now you know you haven’t.”

Happy closed his eyes, settling into a well-deserved sleep,and Tony smiled at his words.

He was right. It was so strange to think a fifteen-year-old hadmade him a better person than he thought he could be, but it was true, and he didn’tthink had ever be able to thank Peter enough for that.

[ameslore]

A-Z have fun dude

my dude

bless you ella

A- already answered!

B - A pairing–platonic, romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind.

tbh idk?

C - already answered!

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t.

i don’t have anything like that, actually. i either like a ship or i don’t.

E - Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom? If so, what?

the chimney fic for the inception fandom’s 2016 secret saito. also the fic that fulfulled @drown-yourdarlings prompt about rose and lissa’s lehigh university experiences but that’s on my fanfiction.net account and let’s not talk about that........... right now or preferably ever

(rest is under the cut for length)

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom?

i’ve more or less been in the va fandom since... 2014?

G - Have you ever had an OTP? If so, do you remember your first one? Who was in it?

see my answer to part (a)

(romitri was probably my first otp)

H - What is your favorite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., TV shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.)?

it used to be books, but i feel like there are so much unexplored depths in movies that it’s really to get inspiration for meta or fic, so nowadays it’s more movies.

I - already answered

J - Name a fandom you didn’t think about until you saw it all over Tumblr. (You don’t have to care about it or follow it; it just has to be something that Tumblr made you aware of.)

the 00q fandom. of course i knew about james bond, but i hadn’t considered the ship

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

rose hathaway, vampire academy. over the course of six books and maybe ten months(?) she really found herself, got a lot more mature and self-confident

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves. (Characters you’re neutral about are fair game, as are characters you merely dislike. Characters that you absolutely loathe with the fire of ten thousand suns are exempt, as there is no point in giving yourself an aneurysm over a character that you hate.)

tasha ozera did not deserve what she got. she was a force of nature.

dominick cobb is a really fucking smart guy

M - Name a character that you’d like to have for a friend.

the collective smh + lardo

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).

for inception and 00q: more well-developed female characters. more poc. more woc. more screen time for all three.

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of?

okay so haunted by beyonce always reminds me of arthur or q and I HAVE NO IDEA WHY BECAUSE THE SONG ISN’T REMOTELY RELEVANT TO EITHER OF THEM

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas).

okay i actually had this idea rolling around in my head for months. i’ve seen something kind of similar to my idea, but the premise is a little different-- “a little less sixteen candles”, arthur/eames, by osaki_nana_707 on ao3

just a sec. let me pull up my doc.

high school teacher-student CANON-DIVERGENT au except there’s no underage pedophilia because arthur’s not actually a minor, he’s a grownass man

so BASICALLY. arthur is part of running project somnacin with dom, mal, and stephen miles, but it gets shut down when the first soldier loses his grasp on reality and shoots himself in the head. topside. which is like, a mess for the military, so long story short everyone’s like “this is a NOPE program BYE”

after project somnacin gets shut down, dom, mal, and arthur open an architecture firm but arthur, who’s a beast at research and investigation and also knows shit about criminal justice (or is it criminology?), occasionally gets contacted by the military/sometimes the nsa/sometimes the cia to do consultant work.

by now arthur is twenty-four. he gets contacted by the military and it’s like “okay so someone may have stolen top secret files about project somnacin and because you know about the [highly confidential] project and you’re really good at investigative research we need you to help identify who this person is [spoiler alert: it’s our beloved thief and forger, eames], figure whether this information is in danger of getting leaked to the public, and all that good security shit??? we might need you to bring him in”

so arthur does his fancy-schmancy research, has a breakthrough and identifies a one mr. [first name redacted] eames, british ex-pat currently living in america and teaching english at a private high school.

due to his small frame and general twinkiness (i’m sorry but it’s true), arthur can pass for a seventeen or eighteen year old. SO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS? HE DECIDES TO ENROLL IN THE SCHOOL THAT EAMES TEACHES AT IN ORDER TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT EAMES. in rolls the teacher-student au

okay. that was a very long way to establish the premise of a fic, but anyway if anyone wants to write that because i am Tired and have no time, just tell me and i’ll be ecstatic

Q - A fandom you’ve abandoned and why.

the carry on fandom, mostly because the big blogs stopped posting/moved onto other fandoms and the content generally dried up

R - Which friendship/platonic relationship is your favorite in fandom?

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon (prompts optional but encouraged)

i wrote a fic a couple months ago featuring adhd!arthur and adhd!eames. a genderfluid!eames fic is currently near completion. (i am so EXCITED)

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending?

*grabs my fucking megaphone*

EDDIE CASTILE AND JILL MASTRANO AND ROSE HATHAWAY AND SYDNEY SAGE ARE ALL BI AS FUCK. ADRIAN IVASHKOV IS PAN.

ARTHUR IS PART JEWISH, PART CHINESE AND CAN SPEAK ABOUT FIVE LANGUAGES. HE WEARS JOGGERS AND BEANIES WHEN HE’S NOT WORKING. HE IS A CLASSICALLY TRAINED MUSICIAN AND LIKES TO SING

IN SOME CROSSOVER VERSE, Q AND ARTHUR ARE DEFINITELY COUSINS

U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

arthur (inception), q (skyfall/spectre), eddie castile (vampire academy/bloodlines)

this is when you notice that i have a type: quiet bamfs who have been whumped by their fandoms quite hard

V - Which character do you relate to most?

arthur. my son my sun my heart.

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

“i wasn’t gay until i met you” or “i hate myself for being gay but loving you makes it feel better” because why do straight people think it works like that. also, not a fan of genderbending because the concept is inherently trans and nb exclusive, plus i kind of feel like it messes up the characterization.

X - A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom.

when both/all parties of the otp are absolute bamfs and surprise each other with their competency

and angsty soulmate aus. call me a cheesy, bright-eyed fucker but i love them so goddamn much

Y - What are your secondhand fandoms (i.e., fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)?

the NHL fandom (i do occasionally reblog stuff about the pens/marc-andre fleury onto my omgcp sideblog? and i watch a few games every once in a while but i’m not actively invested in it.)

also the yuri on ice! fandom. like i haven’t even watched ep. 12 but i’ll reblog a funny post about it every so often

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go! (Prompts optional but encouraged.)

please see all this inception meta that i have:

plot meta, character and plot meta, wardrobe meta