#I have the start of book 2 and character sheets for the kids in my drafts ready to go | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amethystarachnid · 2 months ago

Note

I know your requests are closed, but daaaamn, I need another part of "Forced Marriage" 😭😭😭😭😭 a late honeymoon, oh, to Italy, I love Italy 😭 and more of Tony being the cutest, sweetest and the most loving and devoted husband EVER!!!! 🤧 also, KIDS 🥹 what about twins? One of each? Let the girl dream 😭 but Tony taking care of a pregnant wife and dad!Tony is the best thing ever, especially yours 🩷🩷

Again, I know your requests are closed, I 100% respect that, don't mind me 🫠

FORCED MARRIAGE - part 2

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre romance, fluff and spicy

ᯓ★ Word count: 8.3k

ᯓ★ Summary:what the asks said lol

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think, just a little spicy scene

ᯓ★ Part 1

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Italy is your idea, but Tony’s the one who makes it perfect.

He books everything before you can blink—private jet, villa in Tuscany, romantic dinners lined up for a week straight. “If we’re finally doing this,” he says, tossing you a smirk as he flips his phone shut, “we’re doing it the right way. No boardrooms, no cameras, no press. Just you and me.”

You glance at him over the top of your coffee mug. “So, no suitcases filled with arc reactors and gadgets?”

He lifts a brow. “I only packed one suit of armor, thank you very much.”

He’s joking—mostly—but the truth is, Tony’s been different. Since the gala, since that bathroom, since everything... he’s been present. He makes time. He listens. He loves you, openly and without shame, and you can feel it in everything he does. He doesn’t need to say it every day, though he does, in little ways:

In the way he brushes hair behind your ear without thinking.

In the way he sets an extra pillow where your knee gets sore sometimes.

In the way he kisses your shoulder in the morning and whispers, “Still here.”

The flight to Italy is quiet and calm. For once, neither of you needs to pretend. You fall asleep with your head on his shoulder, and when you wake up, he’s still holding your hand.

The villa he’s chosen is perched on a hillside, surrounded by vineyards and olive groves. The air smells like rosemary and warm stone and blooming flowers. The sky is impossibly blue.

You walk through the stone archway into the sun-drenched villa, and Tony whistles, impressed—even though he’s the one who bought the place for the week.

“Okay,” he says, dropping your bags inside the doorway. “I have a checklist.”

You give him a look. “A checklist? You?”

“Oh, don’t act surprised. I can be organized. Sometimes.” He clears his throat. “Item one: kiss wife in Tuscany.”

You arch a brow. “That’s oddly specific.”

“I’m a man of taste.” He walks over, grabs your waist, and kisses you slow and deep until your knees nearly give out. When he finally pulls back, he’s smiling like an idiot. “Check.”

You laugh against his mouth. “What’s item two?”

“Make pasta. Badly. Burn things. Throw flour at each other. Rom-com level disaster.”

And he’s not wrong.

Later that afternoon, after a lazy nap wrapped in crisp linen sheets and a warm breeze drifting through the open balcony, Tony insists on making fresh pasta from scratch, despite the fact that neither of you really knows what you’re doing.

It starts with enthusiasm and ends in chaos. Flour coats the kitchen, your hair, Tony’s face. A cracked egg drips off the counter. You accidentally launch a handful of dough across the room, and Tony dramatically declares war by smearing tomato sauce on your cheek.

You shriek, lunging at him, but he catches you around the waist and lifts you up onto the counter, kissing you like it’s the only thing that matters in the world.

And maybe it is.

Dinner is a slightly undercooked mess. You both eat every bite anyway.

Afterward, barefoot and tipsy on a bottle of red wine Tony opened with too much force, you sit outside under a canopy of fairy lights, the stars just beginning to show.

Tony has his arm around your shoulders. You’re wearing one of his loose t-shirts, and he’s in soft linen pants and nothing else. The warm wind rustles through the cypress trees, and there’s music playing from a small speaker nearby—some classic Italian tune Tony insisted was necessary for the vibe.

You lean your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

“I like this version of us,” you murmur.

Tony presses a kiss to your hair. “Me too.”

“Why’d it take us so long to get here?”

He exhales slowly, like he’s been thinking about that a lot too. “Because I was a coward,” he admits. “And I didn’t deserve you. But I’m not letting you go now.”

You lift your eyes to his, studying the way the firelight flickers in them. “I’m not planning to leave.”

His smile is soft, nothing like the smirks he used to give you. “Good.”

The first day of your honeymoon ends with you curled up in his lap, the air filled with the scent of wine and rosemary, your laughter echoing in the hills.

And for once, there’s no bitterness. No tension. No fear.

Just love. And peace. And Tony Stark, holding you like he never wants to let you go.

---

The next morning starts off peaceful—until it doesn’t.

You wake before Tony, sunlight streaming in through the sheer curtains, birds chirping somewhere outside. You stretch, a sleepy smile playing on your lips as you take in the soft warmth of the sheets, the way Tony’s hand is still resting on your hip even in his sleep.

But then your stomach lurches.

Suddenly. Violently.

You barely make it to the bathroom before you're on your knees, heaving into the toilet.

Tony stumbles in moments later, his hair a disaster, shirtless and wide-eyed. “Sweetheart?”

You wave him off weakly, spitting out the last of the bile. “M’fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he says, kneeling beside you like he’s ready to call in a full emergency medical team. “Are you sick? Food poisoning? Was it the undercooked pasta? I knew we shouldn’t have eaten that. I swear if this is salmonella, I’m buying the entire food safety board of Italy.”

You groan and slump against the cool tile, resting your head against the wall. “Tony, calm down. It’s probably nothing.”

“Nothing?” His voice goes up an octave. “You were throwing up! That’s literally something. That's a huge, very alarming something!”

“I’m okay,” you mumble. “Just�� nauseous.”

Tony’s already pulling his phone out, muttering to himself. “We need a doctor. Maybe two doctors. No, we’ll fly one in from Switzerland. Private jet. I’ll—”

“Tony!” you cut him off, grabbing his wrist. “Let’s just go to a pharmacy first, okay? It might just be… something simple.”

He pauses, looking at you with deep concern. “Fine. But if they don’t have what you need, I will buy the village. Just saying.”

—

The pharmacy is small and rustic, nestled between two cafes in the heart of the nearby town. It smells like lavender and lemons, with shelves stacked high with herbal remedies and charmingly mismatched bottles.

Tony sticks out like a sore thumb in his expensive sunglasses and hoodie, hovering behind you like a nervous bodyguard.

An elderly Italian woman emerges from the back, dressed in a floral blouse and bold red lipstick. Her silver hair is piled high, and she eyes you both with a mischievous glint.

“Americani?” she guesses immediately, grinning. “Luna di miele?”

“Honeymoon,” Tony murmurs, leaning toward you. “She knows we’re newlyweds.”

The woman winks. “Amore è nel’aria.” Love is in the air. She shuffles closer. “Come posso aiutarti, cara?”

You point to your stomach, trying to mime nausea. “I woke up feeling sick—stomach… blegh.”

The woman squints, then gives you a long, appraising look. She glances at Tony. Then back at you.

And with a delighted little “Ah-ha!”, she reaches behind the counter… and slaps a box onto the counter with a proud flourish.

Tony leans in to read the label.

Then blinks.

Then blinks again.

“A pregnancy test?” he says, voice cracking slightly.

The woman beams. “Sì! Congratulazioni!”

You stare at the box. Then at her. Then at Tony.

“Wait,” you whisper. “She thinks I’m pregnant?”

Tony looks at you, visibly pale. “Are you…?”

“I don’t know!” you hiss.

The woman pushes the box closer to you, her voice cheery and loud. “Due linee rosa! Pink lines, baby!”

You awkwardly thank her, pay for the test, and practically drag Tony out of the pharmacy, the woman shouting behind you, “Felicità! Fate una femmina, è meglio!” Make a girl—it’s better!

Tony’s quiet the entire way back to the villa.

You are too.

The test sits on the bathroom counter like a bomb.

You stare at it. He stares at you.

And finally, with shaking hands, you take the test and close the door.

Minutes pass.

Tony paces outside, muttering under his breath. “Okay. Okay, if it’s positive, we’ll handle it. We’ve got this. I mean—what even is a crib, really? Just a fancy baby cage, right?”

You open the door.

You’re holding the test.

Two pink lines.

You don’t say anything. You don’t have to.

Tony sees it.

His face goes blank. Then slowly, slowly, the emotion starts to flood in—shock, disbelief, and something so soft it nearly makes your knees give out.

He swallows hard. “We’re… gonna have a baby?”

You nod, lip trembling. “Yeah.”

Tony doesn’t move at first.

Then, suddenly, he’s got you in his arms, lifting you off the floor and spinning you around in the hallway.

“Holy hell,” he breathes, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your mouth. “We’re having a baby.”

You laugh, half-crying, clutching the front of his shirt. “I guess we really are on our honeymoon now.”

“Guess we are.”

He sets you down gently, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I love you,” he whispers. “And I already love this little person we made. And I swear, I’m gonna do this right. No matter what.”

You nod, wiping tears off your cheeks. “I know.”

And when he kisses you again, slow and full of awe, the world seems to stand still—just the two of you, your hearts beating in sync, in a tiny villa in Italy, already beginning the next chapter of your life.

---

The rest of the honeymoon is nothing like you expected—because now, everything is different.

Tony doesn’t let you lift a finger. Not even a coffee cup.

You try to protest—at first. “Tony, I’m pregnant, not fragile.”

But he just lifts a brow, gently takes the mug from your hand, and says, “You’re carrying my child. Which means you’re now a VIP-class spaceship. No turbulence. No sudden movements. Maximum comfort only.”

He’s serious, too.

He adds extra pillows to the bed, orders decaf espresso—grudgingly—for you every morning, and Googles every possible fruit, cheese, and spice to make sure you’re not eating anything “even remotely suspicious.” He downloads four pregnancy tracking apps and cross-references them.

Tony Stark is in full dad mode.

One evening, when you go to watch the sunset with him and try to sit on the stone ledge around the patio, he nearly has a heart attack.

“Nope,” he says, scooping you up like you're made of glass. “You’re not breaking any part of your body before this kid is born.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s like a two-foot drop, Tony.”

“I’ve seen ankles snap for less. Google ‘cobblestone hazards in Tuscany.’ I dare you.”

He makes everything dramatic, but it’s not just nerves—it’s adoration.

He touches your belly like it’s already precious. Talks to it when he thinks you’re asleep. Whispers things like, “You’re gonna love your mom,” or “We’ll start with science toys and then move to building suits,” or, “If you’re a girl, don’t even look at boys until you’re thirty.”

You hear it all.

And your heart falls for him a little more every day.

—

Three days after the pregnancy test, you decide to return to the pharmacy. You owe her—Nonna Rosa, as you find out—for the moment that changed everything.

Tony insists on carrying a bouquet of bright flowers and a bottle of fancy wine.

“I don’t care if she’s probably against drinking because she’s old-school and religious,” he says, adjusting his sunglasses. “She deserves something expensive.”

When you walk into the little shop again, she spots you instantly.

“Ahhhh! La bambina!” she cries, throwing up her hands.

Tony laughs. “Told you. Psychic.”

She rushes over, pulls you into a firm hug, then plants both hands on your cheeks and stares. “Si vede negli occhi! I can see it in your eyes.”

“You really knew,” you say in disbelief. “I hadn’t even missed a period yet.”

She shrugs like it’s nothing. “È l’istinto. It’s instinct. And the glow. And the way he looked at you.”

Tony smirks. “What glow? I was a nervous wreck.”

“You were in love,” she corrects him.

He goes quiet, squeezing your hand.

Nonna Rosa spends the next half hour giving you tea samples for nausea, a handmade charm bracelet for “protection of la madre e il bambino,” and instructions on what herbs to steep at different stages of pregnancy. You leave the shop with two bags of supplies, your stomach sore from laughing, your heart warm.

Before you go, she hugs you both again, then whispers in your ear, “He will be a good papa. You are already a good mama.”

You blink back tears. “Thank you.”

—

Back at the villa, Tony’s affection only deepens.

When you get emotional watching a commercial about olive oil, he doesn’t laugh—he just pulls you into his arms, rubbing your back until the tears pass.

When you mention feeling bloated, he books a private massage therapist who specializes in prenatal care and says, “I’ll tip her enough to pay her rent for a year.”

When you start craving fresh mozzarella and figs at midnight, he drives an hour to the next town to find it.

You fall asleep with his hand resting on your belly every night.

You wake up to forehead kisses and whispered I-love-yous every morning.

And somewhere in between all of that, it finally clicks: This isn’t just a changed man.

This is a man who wants to build something with you.

A life. A family. A future.

—

On the last night of the honeymoon, you stand on the balcony with him, watching the Tuscan sky fade into stars. He wraps his arms around you from behind, hands resting just under your growing waistline.

“You know,” he murmurs against your ear, “I used to think love was a weakness.”

You tilt your head slightly. “And now?”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Now I know it’s the only thing worth fighting for.”

You cover his hands with yours. “You’re going to be a great dad, Tony.”

He swallows hard, voice a little rough when he answers. “Only because you’re going to be the heart of this family.”

---

Coming back home feels different this time—like you’re stepping into a new chapter. One that hums quietly with anticipation and change.

Tony doesn’t let you carry a single bag off the plane, despite the fact that you’re still barely showing. “You’re carrying everything that matters,” he says, snapping his fingers at Happy, who takes your suitcase with a nod. “She gets airport princess treatment now.”

The Stark penthouse has been dusted, prepped, and stocked—Tony made sure of it before you even landed. There’s already a room cleared out across from your bedroom, not quite a nursery yet, but he looks at it with this strange sort of awe every time he walks by.

The next morning, he’s up at 6 a.m., pacing, already dressed and muttering to himself as he taps anxiously at his StarkPad.

You’re still brushing your teeth when he pokes his head into the bathroom. “Are you ready? We should leave in ten. Maybe fifteen, if we account for traffic. I already paid off three guys to clear the garage so Happy can pull the car around faster. Also—I downloaded the entire obstetrics textbook from Harvard Medical School and cross-checked it with six blogs. I’m ready for this.”

You spit into the sink and blink at him. “Tony. We’re just getting an ultrasound.”

“Exactly!” he says, eyes wide like you’ve just missed the apocalypse. “An ultrasound. Our baby. Who, by the way, has not responded to any of my nightly pep talks. I think they’re already ignoring me.”

You stifle a laugh and wipe your mouth. “It’s the size of a lime, Tony. It doesn’t know you’re talking to it.”

He scoffs. “Rude. I’m extremely charming.”

You roll your eyes and walk out to grab your coat, and he immediately follows, already fretting. “Do you want snacks? Water? What if you get cold in the waiting room? Should I bring a backup sweater for you? And backup for the backup?”

“Tony.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. But if you don’t stop panicking, I’m going to need medical attention.”

He stops in his tracks. Blinks. Then smiles sheepishly. “Right. Sorry. I’m chill. Totally chill.” He takes a deep breath. “Super chill.”

—

He’s not chill.

Not at the clinic. Not even a little bit.

The poor nurse tries to ask you your name, and Tony blurts it out before you can. “Y/N Stark. She’s my wife. We're having a baby. We're very in love. Also, she's been nauseous, but not today, which I think is progress.”

The nurse gives you a knowing look. You just squeeze Tony’s hand and smile. “We’re here for the first ultrasound.”

They lead you into a cozy, softly lit room with pale blue walls and framed photos of smiling families. Tony paces while you settle onto the exam table, fidgeting as the tech preps the machine.

When the image appears on the screen, the room goes quiet.

There, nestled in the grainy black-and-white blur, is a tiny flicker.

A heartbeat.

Tony’s breath catches audibly. He reaches for your hand, slowly, as if afraid the image might vanish if he moves too fast.

“That’s… them?” he asks softly.

The tech nods, smiling. “That’s your baby.”

Tony doesn’t speak for a full minute. He just stares.

Then, very quietly, he whispers, “Hi, little one.”

You watch him fall in love in real time.

And you know—it’s not just the baby. It’s everything.

You. This life. What you’ve built together.

—

The decision to go public happens faster than you expect.

Tony insists on it.

“No secrets,” he says, pacing in front of the kitchen counter one evening. “I want the world to know. I want them to know. This kid is already the best thing I’ve ever done, and I haven’t even taught them quantum physics yet.”

You raise a brow from the couch. “Tony. I’m barely out of the first trimester.”

He walks over and kneels in front of you, hands on your knees, eyes uncharacteristically serious. “Let me tell them. Let me tell the world how proud I am of you. Of us.”

How can you say no to that?

The announcement goes live two days later: a candid photo of you and Tony on the villa balcony in Italy, your hand resting on your still-flat belly, his arms wrapped around you, both of you laughing like the world doesn’t matter.

The caption reads:

“Coming soon: Baby Stark. And yes, I’ll be building them their first lab by age two. Sorry not sorry.”

The internet breaks.

The press explodes.

Everyone—Avengers, friends, even business rivals—starts reaching out with congratulations.

Even Fury sends a one-word text: Finally.

But none of it compares to the way Tony wraps his arms around you that night, resting his chin on your shoulder as you both scroll through the comments and messages.

“Do you think the baby knows?” you ask softly.

Tony kisses your cheek. “They will. They’ll know they’re loved. Every second. Every minute. Every breath.”

---

Designing the nursery becomes Tony’s newest obsession—something he throws himself into with the same intensity he once reserved for building Iron Man suits and revolutionizing energy.

“We’re not doing boring pastel zoo animals,” he declares one morning, pushing open a tablet full of sleek digital mockups. “This kid’s getting a lab-themed nursery. Chrome mobiles, circuit-board wallpaper, floating shelves for STEM-themed books… I already made a list.”

You arch an eyebrow from where you’re sitting on the couch with swollen ankles and a glass of juice. “They’re going to be born, not code an AI straight out of the womb.”

Tony smirks, sitting beside you and gently lifting your feet into his lap to massage them. “Hey, never underestimate Stark genetics.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help smiling. “Fine. But I want warm tones. Something cozy, not just… titanium chic.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Cozy, but genius. I can work with that.”

And he does. Every evening, you both find yourselves in what was once the empty guest room, standing in the center and imagining your future together.

Color palettes are tested. Tony builds a crib from scratch—out of wood, not metal, because you insisted. He even softens enough to let you choose plush animals for the shelves, despite his comments like, “That bunny’s IQ looks suspiciously low.”

You spend hours hand-painting little constellations across one wall, while he hooks up a night light system that projects stars onto the ceiling.

He reads to your belly at night.

And with every laugh, every tiny kick, every moment you catch him staring at you like you hung the moon—you feel safer. Stronger.

But as weeks stretch into months, something begins to feel… different.

It starts small. You notice that your belly seems to be expanding faster than you expected. You chalk it up to genetics, maybe even water retention, but at your next prenatal yoga class, a woman due at the same time gives you a sideways glance.

“How far along are you again?” she asks, trying to sound casual.

“Twenty-four weeks,” you answer, wiping your forehead.

Her brows lift. “Wow. You’re carrying… a lot.”

You try to brush it off. But later, while Tony’s measuring a bookshelf he’s installing in the nursery, you find yourself tugging down your maternity shirt, eyes lingering on the mirror.

Your belly looks… big.

Bigger than the books say it should be.

That night, lying beside Tony with your hand resting over your belly, you whisper, “Do you think it looks… too big?”

He immediately looks over, concerned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean compared to other women this far along. I saw someone today—same week. She looked half my size.”

Tony sits up a little, his expression sobering. “Are you uncomfortable? Is something hurting?”

“No,” you admit. “Just… wondering.”

He rubs your arm gently. “Well, there’s a million variables. Body type, position of the baby, fluid levels. Maybe our kid just takes after me—big head, big brain, huge personality.”

You smile, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes.

“Let’s call the doctor tomorrow,” he says softly. “Just to check.”

You nod, heart beating a little faster.

And that night, even as he wraps his arms around you and rubs soothing circles against your side, you can’t help feeling something stirring inside you—more than just kicks and flutters.

A question.

A feeling.

Like your body’s holding more than it’s letting on.

---

The next morning, Tony insists on clearing his entire schedule—even cancelling a meeting with the UN tech board—so he can come with you to the OB-GYN.

He doesn’t pace this time. He just holds your hand the entire ride over, thumb tracing slow circles over your knuckles, lips pressed tight in a line he only wears when something's tugging at his heart.

You’re nervous, but not scared. Not really. You just… need to know.

The waiting room is quiet. The exam room colder than usual. And when the gel hits your belly and the ultrasound machine hums to life, your breath catches in your throat.

The doctor’s eyes narrow slightly at the screen, her lips parting. But she doesn’t look alarmed. Just surprised.

Tony notices immediately.

“Okay,” he says, his voice already loaded with anxiety, “that’s not your standard everything’s fine face. What’s going on?”

The doctor smiles, calm and steady.

“Well,” she says, turning the screen toward you both, “you were right about the belly size. Because you're not carrying one baby, Mrs. Stark. You're carrying two.”

You blink. Your brain stutters.

Tony's mouth falls open. “Twins?”

The doctor nods. “Fraternal. Two separate amniotic sacs. One girl…” She moves the probe slightly, points to one side of the screen. “And one boy.” She points to the other.

You stare, heart suddenly thudding so loudly you swear it echoes in the room.

Tony’s breath leaves him in one long exhale. “You’re kidding.”

“Not even a little,” the doctor chuckles. “Congratulations.”

He doesn’t speak right away. He just looks at the screen, wide-eyed, hands slowly releasing yours only so he can press his fingers to the monitor, as if touching it would make it more real.

Then he whispers, so soft it almost breaks you: “A daughter and a son.”

You’re too stunned to say anything for a few seconds.

Then your eyes fill with tears. Not panic. Not fear.

Overwhelmed joy.

Tony turns to you like he’s seeing you all over again.

“You’re incredible,” he says, voice shaking. “You’re actually growing two little humans in there. We made two.” He laughs—a little wild, a little breathless—and swipes his hands down his face. “I need to sit down.”

The doctor smiles. “I’ll give you a few minutes. We’ll go over all the details shortly. Everything looks perfect so far.”

The door clicks closed behind her.

Tony still hasn’t moved. He sits down beside you slowly, as if his knees have given out, and then pulls your hand into his lap. His eyes are shining now, and when he looks at you, it’s like you’re the only thing holding him to the earth.

“Twins,” you say, still not believing it. “I knew I was getting bigger faster but I thought maybe it was just… I don’t know. Pizza.”

He laughs, head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. “We’re gonna need a bigger house.”

You run your fingers through his hair, still blinking away tears. “We already have a whole building.”

“Okay, then we need a wing.”

He lifts his head again, and you both look at the screen once more. Two tiny flickers. Two little lives.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

You nod. “Yeah. Are you?”

Tony doesn’t answer with words. He leans forward and kisses you—slowly, reverently, like you’re made of starlight and safety and everything good he’s ever wanted but never believed he deserved.

“I didn’t think I could love you more,” he says against your lips. “But I do.”

And just like that, the weight of the world becomes something warm. Something shared. Something beautiful.

Later, in the car, he announces: “We’re going public. Today. No waiting.”

“Tony…”

“Nope,” he cuts in. “The people deserve to know. And by people, I mean everyone I’ve ever met, looked at, or cyberstalked.”

The new post goes up before the elevator even opens at the penthouse:

“Plot twist: there are TWO Starklings incoming. Yes, I’m panicking. No, I won’t be sleeping for the next 18 years.”

It takes 10 minutes for #StarkTwins to trend worldwide.

And somehow, despite the chaos, despite the double-shock, despite the massive life shift ahead…

You feel calm.

Because he’s right here.

And for the first time, so are they.

---

Shopping for one baby had already been a bit overwhelming. Shopping for two?

That’s a whole new kind of madness—and Tony, of course, leans into it with full-throttle Stark intensity.

“Two of everything,” he declares the morning after the appointment, standing at the foot of your bed with a stylus in one hand and a digital checklist hovering in midair. “Cribs, monitors, sound machines, swaddles—God help me, even diapers. Y/N, do you know how many diapers twins go through?”

You blink blearily up at him, still nestled under the covers. “Please don’t start our day with horror stories.”

“I’ve done the math,” he says gravely, eyes scanning the list like it’s a mission report. “We’ll need at least 9,000 in the first year. That’s not a joke.”

You groan into your pillow. “Don’t say things like that before coffee.”

“Already brewing,” he says, flashing a charming grin. “Also, I hired a twin consultant.”

You sit up, eyes wide. “That’s a thing?”

“It is now,” Tony says, smug as ever. “She’s flying in from Copenhagen. Best in the field. She’s helping with layout optimization and efficiency training. No chaos. Only balance.”

You can't help but laugh. “You act like we’re launching a small army.”

“Babies are a small army,” he replies. “Except they cry, poop, and will destroy your sleep schedule for the foreseeable future.”

—

You visit every boutique in the city—and a few in Paris and Milan via video call. Tony buys out entire sections of one shop in SoHo and has a luxury baby furniture company build two matching custom cribs, one with silver inlay and the other with a star-and-moon motif to match the constellation wall you painted.

The nursery becomes a shared haven—one room for both babies. You and Tony stand in the center of it often now, surrounded by soft creams, deep navy, gold accents, and the twinkling of projected stars overhead.

“Think they’ll like sharing?” you ask one night, brushing your fingers along the edge of one of the cribs.

Tony comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, now fully rounded and glowing with life.

“They’ll be born into the same chaos,” he murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Might as well share a room and plot world domination together.”

You laugh, leaning into him. “They’ll be a team.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Like us.”

—

The names come slowly—weeks of gentle debates, late-night whispers, and quiet moments with your hands joined over your belly.

You go through everything from classic to avant-garde. Tony suggests “Nova” at one point; you counter with “Juliet.” He proposes “JARVIS Jr.” and you tell him he’s banned from naming privileges for 48 hours.

But one evening, long after the sun’s gone down and you’re curled together in bed, you whisper something that changes everything.

“Lyra,” you say softly, fingers resting just left of your navel. “Like the constellation.”

Tony’s silent for a moment. Then he nods slowly, thoughtfully. “Lyra Stark.”

You glance at him. “Too much?”

He shakes his head. “No. It’s beautiful. Poetic. Strong.”

You both look at your belly. She kicks gently, as if in approval.

“And for him?” you ask.

Tony turns his head to look at you. “Kyle.”

“Kyle?”

“Yeah.” He brushes a lock of hair away from your forehead. “Simple. Strong. Doesn’t sound like he’ll invent a killer AI. I like it.”

You smile. “Lyra and Kyle.”

He leans in to kiss you, slow and soft. “Perfect.”

From that moment on, they’re no longer just “the twins.” They’re Lyra and Kyle.

—

As the months pass, their room transforms into a blend of art and innovation—one side with celestial details, soft blues and silvers for Lyra, and the other in calm earth tones, burnt oranges and forest greens for Kyle.

The cribs stand side-by-side beneath a floating mobile of glowing planets and stars Tony designed himself.

Two nameplates hang above the cribs now—crafted from brushed gold and reclaimed oak.

You catch Tony staring at them often. Not with fear. Not with panic.

But with awe.

“They’re really coming,” he says one night, hands cradling your belly, now round and firm beneath your shirt. “I still can’t believe it.”

“They’re lucky,” you whisper, brushing his hair back. “They’ll have you.”

He looks at you, eyes tender. “No. They’ll have us. And they’ll know they were wanted. Every heartbeat. Every breath.”

And that night, curled against him, you feel them kick together for the first time—one, then the other. Strong. Sure.

A team already.

----

The gala is one of those high-profile events that Tony would normally glide through with ease—press, flashing cameras, board members with tight handshakes and tighter smiles. And normally, you’d stand by his side with calm grace, fingers looped through his arm, chin held high.

But tonight feels different.

You’re in your final weeks now. Your belly is undeniably big—so big you had to be sewn into your custom gown while standing because sitting was temporarily off the table. The dark green silk flows beautifully around your curves, but it doesn’t hide anything. Lyra and Kyle are front and center, snug inside you, and moving constantly like they know they’re being paraded through the public eye.

You adjust the shawl around your shoulders for what feels like the fifth time as Tony finishes shaking hands with a Stark Industries partner near the entrance. You shift your weight carefully, not wanting to put too much pressure on your back or feet, which have been swelling lately.

You feel eyes on you—discreet glances from women in body-hugging gowns and men in tailored suits, some with raised brows, others with polite smiles that barely mask surprise.

You try to ignore it.

But you still feel awkward. Huge. And far too visible.

Tony notices the moment your smile dims.

He excuses himself mid-conversation and makes a beeline straight to you, hands immediately landing on your waist and back, steadying you, grounding you.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, scanning your face. “Too much?”

You give him a half-smile, trying to sound lighter than you feel. “Just a little… self-conscious.”

His expression softens instantly, like someone flipped a switch inside his chest.

“Hey,” he murmurs, tipping your chin up with two fingers. “You are glowing. I mean it. You look like a goddamn goddess.”

You snort softly. “A swollen goddess.”

“An unstoppable goddess,” he corrects, kissing your forehead. “Who’s literally growing two new Starks inside her body and still managing to look like the cover of Vogue.”

You roll your eyes, but it helps. His hands don't leave your body for the rest of the night. Every step, every moment, he’s there—offering your hand to lean on, reminding you to sit every twenty minutes, checking that the event staff remembered your water and low-sodium snacks. He even shoos off the press photographers after ten minutes so you don’t have to stand for long.

“You're carrying my entire legacy,” he murmurs once when he helps you into a velvet-lined seat. “The least I can do is keep you off your feet.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night.

—

Three days later, everything changes.

It starts at dawn. The sky is still painted soft blue and orange when you wake to a strange, warm pressure low in your belly. Not a kick. Not a cramp.

Something else.

You try to stand, and that's when it hits you—sharp and low, then easing into a dull, pulsing wave. You gasp, holding your stomach. Your water breaks seconds later.

Tony is at your side before you can even call for him. He stumbles out of bed in a flurry of blankets and panic.

“What? What? Was that a real gasp? Did something—?”

“My water broke,” you say breathlessly. “It’s happening.”

He stares at you, frozen.

Then: “Holy sh—okay. Okay, yeah. You’re fine. We’re fine. We practiced for this.” He’s already grabbing the go-bag, the phone, barking orders to FRIDAY to call the doctor and alert the hospital.

By the time you’re in the car, gripping his hand and trying to breathe through another contraction, Tony’s all business—but his other hand never stops stroking your back.

“You’re doing amazing,” he says, over and over. “You’ve got this. We’ve got this.”

Labor is long. Hours stretch by, filled with pain and sweat and exhaustion. But he never leaves your side.

Not when you scream through the harder contractions.

Not when you cry from the pressure and the fear.

Not when you beg for it to be over.

And when your body finally gives in and the room is filled with the high, wailing cries of not one—but two—new lives, Tony’s the first to cry.

A nurse lays your daughter on your chest—tiny, pink, with a shock of dark hair and fists curled tight. You barely have time to kiss her head before they bring your son, his cry a little softer but just as strong, his fingers already clutching at your gown.

Tony’s beside you, eyes full of awe and wet with tears. His hands shake as he touches them for the first time.

“They’re here,” he whispers. “Lyra and Kyle. They’re real.”

You manage a tired laugh, voice cracked. “They’re perfect.”

He kisses you hard and long and trembling.

----

Bringing Lyra and Kyle home is like stepping into a dream you didn’t know your heart had written.

But it’s not quiet.

And it’s definitely not restful.

The moment the elevator opens into the penthouse, the real chaos begins.

Lyra starts crying first—sharp and commanding, as if announcing her reign as the older sibling (by two minutes). Kyle follows almost immediately, softer but no less insistent. The sound echoes off the marble floors and sleek walls as if bouncing from every corner of the building.

Tony, still in a soft gray hoodie and cradling the car seat with Kyle, looks at you with eyes wide and shell-shocked. “Did anyone install a mute button? No? Cool. I’ll look into that.”

You’re too exhausted to laugh, but your hand reaches for his anyway, grounding yourself.

The nursery—your carefully designed sanctuary—suddenly feels smaller and louder and much less serene. You gently lay Lyra into her crib, her tiny arms flailing in protest, and immediately Kyle decides he does not want to be separated. His cries ramp up to what Tony calls “critical red alert levels.”

“Okay, okay, he needs backup,” Tony murmurs, scooping him up again with a gentleness that nearly breaks your heart. “Come on, little guy. It’s not that bad. You’re not even paying rent.”

The next 72 hours pass in a blur of feedings, burp cloths, diaper changes, and the faint sound of your sanity unraveling thread by thread.

You barely sleep—maybe an hour at a time. Your body aches. Your hormones are crashing like tidal waves. You cry for no reason sometimes, holding Lyra against your chest in the dark while Tony rubs your back and doesn’t ask questions.

But through it all, he’s there.

Tony Stark, billionaire genius playboy-turned-husband and father, rises to every occasion like he’s been preparing his whole life for this. He’s in the nursery before you even wake to the monitor’s buzz. He handles diaper duty without complaint—even when Kyle somehow manages to get him twice in one change.

He rocks Lyra for hours when she won’t settle, singing her old ‘80s rock ballads off-key, whispering jokes she’ll never remember.

He lets you nap uninterrupted by lying to the entire world that you’re “in a meeting” when reporters start requesting statements and the board tries to reschedule him for “important discussions.”

“The most important discussion I’m having today,” he says firmly into the phone, “is with two humans who weigh less than a cantaloupe and poop like it’s a competitive sport. So unless the building is on fire—no, you know what? Even if it’s on fire, deal with it without me.”

And then he silences his phone and lays beside you while the twins nap, his arm draped protectively across your waist, both of you catching a precious thirty minutes of sleep.

When you wake from one of those naps to the scent of warm food, you shuffle groggily into the kitchen to find him with Lyra strapped to his chest in a baby wrap and a pan of eggs cooking in front of him.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says with a grin. “Lyra says she likes her eggs over easy. She also says I’m her favorite. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

You smile so hard you almost cry again.

Later that night, when both babies are miraculously sleeping in their cribs at the same time—tiny arms thrown up in near-identical poses—you lean against the nursery doorway, arms crossed gently over your chest, and watch Tony fuss quietly over the room.

He’s rearranging things that don’t need rearranging. Checking the monitor angle. Adjusting the blanket placement in the cribs.

You walk over and wrap your arms around his waist from behind.

He leans back into your touch immediately. “Can’t believe they’re real.”

“I can’t believe we made them.”

He turns in your arms, eyes soft. “You did most of the work, let’s be honest. I just—”

“You’ve been amazing,” you interrupt gently. “Really.”

He smiles—crooked, a little tired, a little emotional. “I don’t want you to do any of this alone. Ever.”

You pull him down into a kiss. It’s quiet. It tastes like sleep deprivation and love.

---

Life with twins becomes a mosaic of moments—some loud and chaotic, others quiet and golden.

Lyra and Kyle grow faster than you ever thought possible. One moment they’re impossibly small, sleeping curled against your chest, and the next they’re crawling in opposite directions at alarming speeds while Tony frantically tries to babyproof a Stark-level security system from the babies themselves.

“They’re teaming up,” he says one evening, watching as Kyle opens the bottom drawer in the kitchen and hands a spoon to Lyra. “They’re forming a hive mind. You see this, right?”

You’re laughing, even as you pluck the spoon from Lyra’s grip and gently redirect her back toward her soft play area. “They're not a hive. They're siblings.”

“They’re mutinous,” he mutters, but his grin betrays his pride. “Tiny, adorable rebels.”

—

Their first steps come unexpectedly, of course.

You and Tony are both in the nursery one late afternoon, folding laundry together on the floor while the twins babble nonsense to their stuffed animals. Kyle is focused on his favorite one—a green plush dinosaur with a snagged eye—while Lyra, ever observant, is watching you.

You catch her gaze just as she starts to push herself upright.

Tony notices first. “Oh,” he whispers. “Oh-oh-oh.”

She wobbles—one foot, then the other, barely stable—and then she walks.

Three full steps.

Straight into your arms.

You burst into tears, laughing and holding her tight. “You did it, baby!”

Kyle, not to be outdone, immediately lets go of his toy and tries the same thing. He takes two steps, then falls dramatically onto his padded backside, completely unbothered.

Tony claps like he’s just witnessed a world record. “You guys! You guys! You’re walking now? We need helmets. We need security.”

From that day forward, it’s chaos all over again. Mobility changes everything. They explore every room. Open every drawer. Kyle develops a fascination with Tony’s gadgets, and Lyra becomes obsessed with books—she likes to flip through them, point at the pages, and babble nonsense words that sound oddly like commands.

“Mini CEO,” Tony says proudly, watching her point at the same picture of a rocket over and over again.

—

Their words start coming around the same time.

But they’re not exactly dictionary-ready.

Lyra says “muh-muh” when she wants milk and “dah-dee” when she sees Tony walk into the room. Kyle invents his own phrases—“boo-moo” for blanket, “wah-wah” for water, and something that sounds like “da-blurf” that could mean literally anything depending on the tone.

To outsiders, it’s pure chaos.

To you and Tony, it’s a fluent second language.

You translate with ease at the park, at brunches, at family gatherings.

“She wants her bunny,” you say when Lyra looks up at you with big eyes and says “bun-yah-nah.”

“He dropped his truck in the fountain,” Tony explains, deadpan, when Kyle starts shouting “wuh-bloop!” repeatedly and pointing furiously at the edge of the garden.

It becomes a running joke among your friends and staff that only the two of you can understand them.

“You’re like their personal interpreters,” Rhodey says one afternoon, watching the twins toddle around the tower’s rec room.

“More like their unpaid assistants,” Tony mutters, grinning as he catches Kyle mid-wobble and swings him onto his hip. “Bilingual in toddler and fluent in chaos.”

—

By the time Lyra and Kyle are two, your lives are unrecognizable from the ones you had before them. Your house is a blend of elegance and mess—designer furniture paired with foam corner guards, baby gates guarding arc reactors, and a fridge covered in crayon masterpieces you can’t bring yourself to take down.

You and Tony barely sleep some nights, but when you do, it’s together—your bodies curled protectively around each other in a house that now echoes with tiny feet and sweeter-than-anything laughter.

The twins babble to each other constantly—words and sounds you don’t always catch, but that clearly mean something to them. A private language. A world of their own.

Sometimes you watch them from the doorway as they sit together with books or blocks or their favorite stuffed toys, heads close, trading secrets.

“Do you think they know?” you ask Tony one night, as Lyra pats Kyle’s head before handing him her bunny.

“Know what?”

“That they changed everything.”

Tony wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as the sunlight glows through the window and warms the nursery floor.

“They are everything,” he says softly.

---

Mornings in the Stark household now begin with chaos.

Not a metaphorical kind. No—this is toddler-level bedlam.

The twins wake up at exactly 6:14 AM every single day like little precision alarm clocks forged in the fires of mischief. Today is no different.

You're jolted awake by the sudden crackle of the baby monitor, followed by a loud—and completely unintelligible—battle cry.

"MAH-DEE BEEPBOOP!" Kyle shouts, his voice shrill and dramatic.

"NOOO KAH-LOOO! DABBA ME!" Lyra wails immediately after, and the sound of what might be a plush bunny hitting the crib bars echoes through the monitor.

You groan softly into your pillow. “They’re fighting over Beepboop again.”

Tony, face smushed into the pillow, mumbles, “I’ll give you two million dollars if you go get them.”

“Make it three and coffee.”

He sighs, rolls out of bed, and limps toward the nursery in pajama pants and a shirt that says “World’s Okayest Dad.”

You follow moments later to find him kneeling between two cribs, holding up the infamous Beepboop—a lumpy stuffed robot with one missing arm.

Kyle points with all the moral authority of a tiny Supreme Court judge. “BEEPBOOP me, Dadda. Me say dib-dib-dib! Lyyyyra cheat!”

Lyra scowls, pigtails wild. “NO! Bepbop NO dib-dib! Me hug Beepboop ALL night! Me! Me! Me! MAAAAAA!”

Tony’s trying not to laugh. “Okay, okay. Court is in session. Both plaintiffs, present your evidence.”

You squat down beside him and gently take Beepboop. “What if Beepboop gets two turns today? Lyra can have him during story time, and Kyle during nap time?”

They both squint at you like suspicious diplomats.

Kyle crosses his arms. “Hmph. Nap boring. Bepbop NO nap.”

Lyra’s lip quivers. “But me hug him! Hug like—like foreber!”

You hold Beepboop up and look between them. “Teamwork or timeout?”

A long beat.

Then—both toddlers sigh in unison, as if burdened by the unbearable injustice of compromise.

“Fiiiine,” Kyle mutters.

“Me HUG first,” Lyra insists one last time.

—

Breakfast is…something.

Tony makes pancakes, but Kyle insists on helping, which really means slapping the counter with flour-covered hands and taste-testing raw batter with his fingers.

“NOOOO EGGY!” he yells dramatically as Tony cracks one into the bowl.

Tony raises a brow. “What do you mean ‘no eggy’? It’s a pancake. Pancakes need eggs.”

“No eggy, no eggy, NOOOO!” Kyle insists, absolutely scandalized.

Meanwhile, Lyra has decided her only utensil today is a measuring cup, which she is currently using to ladle syrup from the bottle directly onto her pancake. The pancake is now more syrup than food.

You sit with your mug of tea and watch, amazed that these tiny humans are somehow so much like you and Tony and yet such chaotic goblins.

“Banana?” Lyra asks, holding up a pancake completely drowning in syrup.

“You want banana on that?” you ask.

She nods like it’s obvious. “Banana IN pancake. Like brrrrr-BAM. ‘Splode banana.”

Tony stares. “Okay… That’s actually a genius idea. Banana explosion pancakes. Trademark pending.”

—

Midday is supposed to be calm.

Supposed to be.

But then there’s the puzzle incident.

Lyra wants to complete a big animal puzzle. Kyle wants to climb on it like Godzilla.

Lyra screeches, “NO SMOOSH ELEFAMP!” as Kyle lays across the puzzle dramatically.

You’re folding laundry when she marches into the living room with two chunky toddler fists clenched and fire in her eyes. “MOM-MEEE. Bubba make puzzle DEAD. Him SMASH elefamp.”

Kyle shouts from the floor behind her, “HIM NAP with effa-famp! Nap! It cuddly!”

Tony watches the scene like a referee between tiny wrestlers.

“I have no idea what’s happening,” he mutters. “They both sound right.”

You lean over and whisper, “He’s cuddling the elephant piece. She thinks he’s committing puzzle war crimes.”

Tony nods solemnly. “That tracks.”

—

Nap time is sacred.

Except no one wants to sleep today.

Tony’s strategy involves lying between their little toddler beds and making spaceship noises. “The sleep ship is docking. Commander Kyle, permission to close eyes.”

Kyle blinks at him and deadpans, “Me NO commander. Me banana.”

Lyra giggles. “Commander Nana!”

Tony puts a hand over his heart. “You’re right. Commander Banana, lead the sleepy fleet.”

You stifle laughter from the doorway as he drones on: “Fueling dreams… activating nap boosters…”

By some miracle, both fall asleep fifteen minutes later. You and Tony high-five silently and collapse onto the couch.

“Remember when we thought we were tired before we had kids?” you whisper.

Tony nods, eyes already closing. “Fools. Arrogant, well-rested fools.”

—

Bath time is wet, splashy, and full of giggles.

Kyle babbles a long, incomprehensible monologue involving “tub-fish” and “soap army,” while Lyra insists the shampoo bottle is “Prince Bubble” and must not be harmed.

By the time they're in pajamas and tucked in, you and Tony are damp, exhausted, and laughing under your breath.

“Me lub you, Dadda,” Kyle whispers as his eyes flutter closed.

“Me lub you, Momma,” Lyra echoes.

You and Tony freeze.

Those are the clearest words they’ve spoken all day.

Your throat catches. Tony blinks rapidly, lips curving.

“I love you both more than the whole world,” you whisper, smoothing back Lyra’s hair.

Tony leans in and kisses their foreheads gently. “Even more than my vintage car collection. And that’s saying something.”

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sparklingelectricblue · 6 days ago

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Magneto and Luna

I've talked before about using spreadsheets to track my comic book inventory and character appearances. Vlookups and pivot tables are my thang, and I can use them to see at a glace which characters are in what issues and how long it's been since they've shared an issue.

Data! I highly recommend making a google sheet list of your comic inventory. You can access it on your phone. Never accidently buy a duplicate back issue from your local comic book store again!

However, the spreadsheet don't tell me the whole story. For example, my spreadsheet will tell you that there are several issues that Luna and Magneto both appear in after Vision and the Scarlet Witch vol 2, #6 and before Son of M vol 1, #5. However, what the spreadsheet won't tell you is that they don't share any scenes together after Vision and Scarlet Witch until Son of M.

Vision and the Scarlet Witch vol 2, #6 - do we ever find out what the gift was?

And a lot has happened in-between those issues. Luna was a baby, a toddler at most, in Vision and Scarlet Witch. In Son of M, she's older but still a kid. Magneto went from headmaster of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters in Vision and Scarlet Witch to a sort-of villain (his heart wasn't in it y'all), an isolationist, dead, caused a worldwide incident that surely killed many, many people, comatose, the head of a nation, dead, and then demoralized and powerless after House of M.

Son of M vol 1 #5 - gods, I love the art in this mini series!

Yet what I noticed about this panel from Son of M is that Luna immediately recognized Magneto and ran to him. Which is kind of weird because as I mentioned, they haven't been shown to interact. Also, I would imagine that Pietro hasn't told Luna many good things about Magneto. The most likely explanation for this is it's Magneto's uniform that makes him recognizable and the powers Luna has received from the Terrigen Mist that showed her that her grandfather is not a threat.

Son of M vol 1 #5 - No, sometimes he's bad.

But that's not satisfying enough for me! What I would love to be the case is if there were some off panel interactions between them. Maybe Magneto visited when she was younger or they had some standing video call. Imagine Magneto having a standing Zoom or Facetime call with his granddaughter.

Son of M vol 1 #6 - Eric with a C?

Son of M vol 1 #6 has a couple of panels that I could read into if I wanted to support the theory of off panel interaction. First is the familiarity between Crystal and Magneto. She calls him "Eric" here which is a name he only started using again after leaving the New Mutants/X-Men. Yet in the Vision & the Scarlet Witch issue she calls him Magneto. That suggest increased familiarity or some kind of ongoing communication.

Son of M vol 1 #6 - Not the most reassuring answer

This panel provides an interesting angle one could expand upon. Magneto is covering for Pietro here by omission. He does not tell them that Luna was exposed to the Terrigen Mist. It's a strange panel because there was violence and open distain between Pietro and Magneto just an issue before.

Pietro wasn't present in Luna's life for a while. If there was some kind off panel interaction between Mags and Luna, did Mags cover for Pietro then for Luna's sake? And if so, did that reinforce Magneto's disappointment in Pietro?

Unfortunately, we might not see a whole lot of interactions between young Luna and Magneto in the comics. But at least we'll always have fanfiction! Here are some Magneto & Luna fanfiction recommendations:

I Never Wanted To Be The One That Only Lets You Down by nogrey

honesty by joshriku

the patch of grass where we buried the dog by shroomyystar

a girl and her (wanted in most states and countries) grandfather by kenorex

#x comics #marvel 616 #magneto #luna maximoff #max eisenhardt #Son of M #magneto fanfic #pietro maximoff #quicksilver #crystal #vision and the scarlet witch #dadneto

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mkengland · 6 months ago

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Claim your ROLL FOR LOVE sticker sheet!

My wonderful publisher, Running Press Kids, has this incredibly cute exclusive preorder offer going on! You’ll get a sticker sheet with all three of these stickers, hand-drawn by Ricardo Bessa, the same artist who did the book cover that I’m so in love with. I can’t wait to put them on everything, possibly including my face. Here’s how you get them:

1) Preorder ROLL FOR LOVE from the retailer of your choice. (If you want your copy to be signed and/or personalized, you can preorder from Bluebird Bookstop.)

2) Fill out this form hosted by Running Press Kids and upload a picture of your receipt.

3) Wait for your stickers to arrive in the mail! They’ll be shipped out on pub day, April 8th.

The deadline is Monday, April 7, 2025 at 11:59pm ET, so don’t wait too long! The form is open to U.S. residents; Canadian readers can click on the form link and send an email to the address provided.

International friends and library purchase requesters, I’m working on an option for you; stay tuned!

Pre-orders matter A LOT.

I’d so appreciate it if you could help me get the word out about this pre-order offer. Preorders are the best way to support authors; they tell publishers and bookstores that there’s demand for a particular author/book. If there’s early momentum, a book can even get additional marketing and support pre-release, which is HUGE. Queer books need more help than ever in 2025.

Back of the book description under the cut:

A second-chance queer romance about two teens whose in-world D&D characters fall in love, but in IRL . . . things are more complicated, perfect for lovers of Ashley Poston and Becky Albertalli.

Harper Reid's summer is not off to a great start. After the death of her grandpa, she moves across the country, leaving her friends and Dungeons & Dragons group behind. She wasn’t exactly planning to start her senior year on the farm where she spent her childhood summers, but running into Ollie Shifflet—former best friend and first crush—makes things much better. When Harper discovers Ollie and her friends are starting a new D&D campaign, she quickly joins the group. As Harper and Ollie reconnect in the real world, romantic tension begins to build between Harper’s brash barbarian and Ollie’s proud paladin, but it's all just part of the game . . . right?

Ollie's future depends on keeping her bisexuality private while Harper's dreams include an out-and-proud life in their rural town, but as their feelings continue to grow with each gaming session, their relationship begins threatening everything they've worked so hard to build. As the school year comes to a close and the campaign's final boss looms on the horizon, Harper and Ollie must decide: are their feelings more than just a fantasy? Because if they want a second chance at love, they'll have to fight for it, both in-game and in real life.

#dungeons & dragons #d20 #roll for love #sapphic books #lgbtq books #I really hope y’all love this book because I sure do #Extremely personal personally meaningful to me #I love my country girls so much #and their nerdy friend group too #MK England #ttrpgs

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poppitron360 · 1 year ago

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Wait. I wanna hear you Will Solace headcanons

Okay so be prepared for these to be wildly inaccurate because all I know about this guy is from fannon. Most of this is also me projecting.

1. Bass player. Yes that is 100% biased, as I am also a bass player (and I hc myself as a legacy of Apollo). No I have no basis on this claim other than Basses Are Just Cooler Than Guitars.

2. OR he’s the guitarist, Nico is the Bassist.

3. If there is a piano in the house, he WILL play it. For hours. Gods forbid you take him anywhere with a public piano.

4. Hates learning Music Theory, learns by ear and by feel. As an Apollo kid, he can instantly read both tab and sheet music, but uses neither.

5. Also has perfect pitch (can name any chord just by hearing it).

6. He’s a Star Wars fan, right? Can talk for hours about John William’s use of Lydian Mode in the score to convey a sense of majesty, and don’t get him started on the expert use of Vagnarian methods of leitmotif-

7. Okay, so maybe he knows a little music theory.

8. Writes terrible poetry that’s low-key kinda good.

9. Founder of the chb LGBTQ+ club.

10. Bisexual flags everywhere. He always at least one pink, purple, and blue pen on hand, doodles exclusively in those colours. His doctors notes are colour-coded pink, purple, blue.

11. BIG supporter of Trans rights- is qualified to help with Gender Affirming Healthcare for anyone at Camp.

12. Apollo is also god of prophecies. Will has the power of foresight ONLY for TV show/Film/Book endings. He is able to predict how a character would die with incredible accuracy after one episode. Morbid as fuck, so naturally Nico thinks it’s the hottest thing ever.

13. SWIFTIE!!!!!

14. Friendship bracelets. VERY swiftie-coded, he has a million of them on both arms, cutting off his circulation.

15. Paints Nico’s nails. Nico insists on all black, but gave in and let Will paint ONE nail fun colours, bedazzled with charms and shit. As long as it’s the middle finger.

Now, specifically my Will x Leo (Platonic) headcannons:

16. Will and Leo become very close at camp simply because Leo has absolutely zero sense of self-preservation. Like that kid does not value his life in any way at all, and so always ends up doing the most reckless shit ever, and, naturally, ends up spending a lot of time in the infirmary, usually only after being dragged there by Jason (“What’s the big deal? It’s just a broken arm. I’m ambidextrous! Besides, I’ve survived worse.”)

17. Will loves him because he’s never there longer than he has to be.

18. Except sometimes he does have to force Leo back into bed while Leo’s yelling loudly about how he needs to get back to his work, the Argo II won’t build itself, and to let go of him or he’ll burn you.

19. Will makes him wear enchanted plasters (band aids) that he can’t take off without doctor’s permission, to stop him absent-mindedly picking at old scabs and bits of skin. He also keeps fidget toys and stress balls to give to his patients. Leo has stolen ALL of them.

20. Like seriously, it is a problem. Leo has had to make them a whole bunch more fidgets because he’s taken and then overworked them until they all broke.

21. Both their southern accents come out more when they talk to each other. If a conversation goes on too long, they evolve into using so much fast-paced Texan slang that no-one else can understand them- it’s practically its own language.

22. BOTH SWIFTIES!!!!!

23. Leo helps out in the infirmary a lot- he’s useful if you need to sterilise equipment or cauterise any wounds.

24. It works sort of like an exchange of favours, where Leo also calls on Will anytime he needs a human flashlight to work on a project.

25. Leo has a lot of scars from his rough childhood. Will is one of the few people (aside from Jason) who’s actually seen them all. They never talk about it, and, as his doctor, he’s sworn to secrecy, but some of them are really disturbing. It will never not shock him that demigods can get hurt by things in the mortal world.

26. Leo makes sure Will uses accurate engineering jargon when writing Star Wars fanfiction.

27. Aside from Leo, Nico is the only one who reads his fanfiction

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ljjsims · 1 year ago

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Greek Goddess Legacy Challenge: Generation #10 Nike: Completed

Why compete if not to win? Please welcome goddess of Victory, Nike!

Growing up with 2 older brothers, you felt the constant need to prove yourself to them. Be as cool as them. as Strong as them. Be better then them, even thought they try to keep you small. and when you grow older, they find they can’t anymore. you’ve found that your strength lies in sports. running, swimming, lifting; anything you can win medals with, you love. And it so happens your favorite color is gold. so it’s decided then: you will win all gold medals in sports you can. you will be the fastest. the strongest. the best. you will not back down before you have reached your goal. You are a winner.

Little bit explanation with the sheets: - First sheet is for describing your current generation, with the challenges you need to do each life-stage. Also, because I love the myths, a bit of mythological background. May it inspire you :) - Second sheet is the preparation sheet for this generation, with important characters for your story. It is technically optional, but I love seeing sims with a backstory in my world, so I would highly recommend it. - Third sheet is for your gens children. They all have their own little challenges if your interested in those. I try to make all of them a bit different from each other, so it doesn’t get boring. Your heir is also on this sheet, but I’ve put their challenges on their own sheets. Stay tuned for those ;)

Next Generation is Artemis! Previous Generation was Nemesis First Generation is Gaia

The Greek Goddesses Challenge by LJJ-Sims is a challenge based on the ancient mythical creatures and stories from Greece. I fell in love with Greek mythology in high school and have not let that love go since. In this challenge you will follow 10 deities in their journey through life. Every goddess has a different take on and goal in life. Special about this challenge? All your kids have little challenges of their own, not only your heir. These challenges are optional, so if you feel like these are too much or just too restricting for you: by all means let them go. I also have sheets for characters that you can make before you start each generation. This gives your challenge a lot more personality and makes it frankly easier and more fun!

A little disclaimer: because I made these gods and goddesses into a legacy challenge, the relationships in the myths don’t exactly match the relationship in this challenge. There is a lot of keep it in the family in mythology, to put it lightly. And apart from the fact that you can’t do that in the Sims, I don’t really like that part. So I didn’t include it, thus the inconsistency. An example: Ares is now Hera’s stepfather instead of her son, which she conceived with her brother and husband Zeus. This inconsistency can also be found in the stories. It’s just based on and not copied exactly, as Sims live lives that are a lot shorter than those of immortal gods. And it takes a way from the creativity if we just copy the myths. Even if we wanted to do that, it’s quite hard, as every myths has its fair share of variations and some are just completely different stories.

I use the MCCC-mod to alter the length of life states. You can find the days-years ratio here: the boring stuff.

I get all the information from several sites about mythology, but mostly use https://greekgodsandgoddesses.net/goddesses. This is a great place to start if you want to know the myths surrounding a certain god or goddess. Wikipedia is also a friend of mine in this challenge, although I automatically doubt a lot of information that is on there. More of a book person? I absolutely adore Stephen Fry’s Mythos, which is very beginner friendly, and Nathalie Haynes Pandora’s jar. For little synopses of gods, I would recommend Greek Mythology: The Gods, Goddesses, and Heroes Handbook by Liv Albert.

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jerzwriter · 1 year ago

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A chat with Sienna...

Book: Open Heart (Book 2 Timeline) Characters: Tobias Carrick x Casey - eventually 😊, Sienna Trinh Rating: Teen Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, panic attacks, nightmares Words: 2,300 Series Summary: Can be found here. Chapter Summary: Tobias is there for his friend Casey when she's struggling months after the chemical attack. During a visit, he has the chance to talk to Casey's best friend. (This text fic is a lead into this chapter.) A/N: I decided to mesh the "With Warning" fics into the existing fics from the start of Tobias & Casey's relationship. The Fine Print would take place shortly after this fic, and the next installment of "With Warning" will be a conversation with Aurora after the events of The Fine Print.

With Warning Masterlist Tobias x Casey Masterlist || My Full Masterlist

There was nothing delicate about the knock on her bedroom door. Bold and a little too loud, some would say it wasn’t unlike the man knocking. Pushing her weighted blanket off with vexation, Casey left the comfort of her bed with a sigh. It was nice of him to stop by, but... She looked down at her ratty, old t-shirt that hadn’t been changed in two, maybe three days, and her pink flannel Snoopy pajama bottoms had been on just as long. Despite her sour mood, she almost smiled; she was about to make one hell of an impression.

Shuffling to the door in stockinged feet, she considered rescinding her invitation. But the aroma of shrimp Pad Thai was too seductive. He noticed she thought, she never told him her favorite Thai dish, but he must have been paying attention.

Tobias was about to knock again when he heard a gentle thud when Casey leaned against the door before opening.

“This is your last chance; you can make a run for it.”

Amused, he lifted the bags as if she could see them.

“But I’ve got food?”

“You could leave it at the door, I’d even Venmo you a tip... pretend you’re the delivery guy.”

“You know,” he snickered. “I have seen movies that start off like that...”

That did it. It might have been a tiny laugh, but it was a laugh nonetheless, and Casey had been devoid of laughter for some time.

“I’ll bet you have,” she said, mindlessly running her fingers over the slide lock.

“All right, this is your last chance, kid! If you open the door, you get me and food; if not, I walk... but the food comes with me. What’s it gonna be?”

Casey cracked the door open and peered at her guest. “Don’t say you haven’t been warned," she kicked the door open, and Tobias eagerly entered.

While she had one of the biggest bedrooms in the tiny garden apartment, it was still rather small, and Tobias couldn’t figure out where to put the food.

“You sure you don’t want to eat in the kitchen? I mean, there’s a table there,” he grinned.

Casey shot him a look as she pulled a flat sheet from her closet and spread it over a tiny spot on her bedroom floor.

“You’ve never had a picnic, Carrick?”

He sank to the floor and spread the food out like a smorgasbord and Casey sat sullenly before him. “It was nice of you to come,” she said, grabbing a steamed dumpling.

“It’s my pleasure,” he stated, his eyes catching hers. “Of course, I know you’re just using me for the food.”

Normally, that would have earned a sarcastic reply or at least a little chuckle, but today, she flatly retorted, “You’re on to me.”

They ate in relative silence, Tobias leaning his back against the wall and Casey cross-legged as they scooped down ku chai, tod mun pla, and som thum tua. She began to wonder if he had known her favorite dish after all; perhaps he just ordered the entire menu. Either way, she was content, and when they were both sufficiently stuffed, Tobias began to clean up, stopping Casey when she tried to help him.

“Clean-up duty is on me today, princess. You just relax. Do you want your ice cream now?"

"So, saving the ice cream for later," he chuckled.

After placing the leftovers in the fridge, he returned to Casey's room and found her sitting on the edge of her bed, picking at a ragged cuticle as she stared blankly ahead.

“Would you like to talk?” He asked as he sat in an easy chair in the corner of the room.

“Not now,” she muttered.

“I brought my laptop; we could watch a movie if you like.”

She turned to him with a forced half-smile. “Maybe later.”

“All right,” he replied, pulling a book from his bag. “I told you, you don't have to say a word at all. But I'm here if you need me."

He flipped through the pages, and Casey, who hadn’t been showing interest in much, she suddenly wanted to know what Tobias was reading. He could feel the weight of her stare but pretended he didn't. She'd talk when she was ready, and when curiosity got the better of her, she asked. “What are you reading?”

Tobias held the book up for her to see. “Homeland Elegies.”

“Is it any good?”

“Not sure,” he shrugged. “I just started it. But it was on my buddy Barrack’s best books of 2020 list, so I’m confident I’ll like it.”

“Hmmm. You and Obama are on a first name basis now.”

“Well, duh,” he snorted.

“Maybe I can borrow when you’re done.”

“Do you want to read along with me now?” he asked.

“No,” she said, still no inflection in her voice. “Not now.”

Closing the book, he looked at her thoughtfully. “How much did you sleep last night?

“Sleep,” she chortled. “What’s that?”

He tilted his head, awaiting an answer.

“Three, four hours tops... it’s just hard... it’s... the nightmares.”

Tobias leaned forward, and Casey couldn’t miss the concern etched on his face. “The nightmares have started up again?”

“Just this week," she nodded. "Ever since I had another panic attack. Some of them make sense, like I’m back in that hospital room, alone, and the plastic sheeting starts to smother me... others are more abstract... like I’m in a dark room, and I hear these terrifying screams, but no matter what I do, I can’t find a light... I can’t find the person screaming, and I can’t make it stop. I wake up in sweat, and there’s no going back to sleep.”

“Have you told your therapist?”

She shook her head. “They started after our last session, but I’ll be sure to tell her this week.”

“Good,” he replied. “She’ll be able to help.”

“Tobias,” she said, her voice so soft and broken that it sounded more like a frightened little girl than the confident young woman she had become. “I just feel like... like I’m failing.”

“Failing?” He asked, brow furrowed. “How?”

“The attack was two months ago now; everyone's moving on, the world’s moving on... and I was doing better... you know I was... and look at me now. I'm a fucking mess. I feel like I’m right back where I started.”

“Casey. You experienced an extremely traumatic event, and two months is nothing. You’re doing great.”

“I thought I was. I was progressing, but the world is so damn dark again, and I feel like a failure.”

“Hey,” he moved closer and placed a hand on her knee. “Look at me. You are not a failure. Do you understand? Casey, progress isn’t a straight line, and setbacks are a normal part of recovery. Be gentle with yourself. I promise you, the sun will come out again; you won’t be in the darkness forever.”

“I want to believe that," she sniffled. "But right now... I can’t.”

“You don’t focus that far ahead. You just keep doing the work and get through the moment. I’ll believe for you until you can do it on your own because there is no doubt in my mind that you’ll get there.”

Casey took a deep breath and closed her eyes; when she opened them, she had the faintest of smiles on her lips.

“If I take a nap, would you stay?” She asked.

“Of course.”

“I’d like to shower first, though.”

“Yeah,” he chortled. “That might be a good idea.”

“Wow. Really?” she chided.

“Hey, tell me...” he teased. “When’s the last time you did?”

“Shut up,” she smirked, grabbing clean pajamas from her drawer. She stopped and ran her hands over the soft fleece, appearing to be deep in thought. “I really appreciate all you do for me, even when I can't show it. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” he smiled. “I'm happy to be here for you, Casey. Now go take that shower.”

“All right,” she grinned, and for the first time since he arrived, it was a genuine smile.

Once she was gone, he brought the leftovers to the kitchen. He could hear Casey and Sienna’s muttered voices at the end of the hall and picked up his pace to give them privacy, but as he returned to Casey’s room, Sienna turned away from the bathroom door, her cautious optimism morphing into absolute glee. Grabbing Tobias's arm, she pulled him toward Casey's room.

"You did it!" She beamed the moment the door closed behind them. "We've been trying to get her in the shower for days, and she wouldn’t budge. But you’re here less than an hour, and ... viola! I’m amazed!"

"Thanks,” he shrugged. "But I didn't do anything special. I just..."

A wave of the tiny but mighty woman's hand brought him to silence. "I know you're not the humble type, Tobias. So do me a favor and spare me the false modesty. Casey will be in there in ten minutes, tops, and I need your help here.”

"Here?" He raised a brow. "In her bedroom?"

"Yes. I haven’t been able to get her to shower or change her bedding all week. You can help me with the bedding.”

“You sure that’s smart? I mean, you’re her best friend. I’m not sure she'd want me poking around her bed, you know?”

“What do you mean?” Sienna snickered. "I am her best friend, so I know where the toy drawer is. You don't have to worry about finding any under her bed."

"That's NOT what I meant!" he blurted, and Sienna took delight in his astonishment.

“I know,” she threw a comforter his way. “I'm teasing you.”

Tobias decided to focus on the task at hand, and they quickly changed the sheets and blankets. When Sienna fluffed Casey’s pillows, she stopped to watch Tobias tucking the bedding in so it was just right, and she felt her heart warming.

“Tobias, can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

"I was jealous of you right after the attack.”

“Of me? Why?”

“Because I’m Casey’s best friend, and she was rebuffing me and latching on to you.”

“But that wasn't anything against you. Casey was just dealing with... a lot, and it was easier to be around someone who was kind of an outsider like me. She was too afraid to let you down - it was nothing personal."

“I know that. That’s why I took a step back. Casey's well-being was all that mattered. She needed someone, and she had you. I want to thank you for everything you've done for her.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I’m happy to help. If anything, I want to thank you.”

“Me?” Sienna asked. “Why?”

Tobias returned to the chair, pausing momentarily to choose his words.

“When Casey and I became friends again, after the attack... most of her friends all but threatened me. Actually, some did threaten me. And I understand why... given our history, there was reason to question my motives. I’m not stupid. But not you... you always made me feel welcome, and I appreciate it.”

“I just try to focus on the bright side,” she shrugged. “I saw you the night of the attack; no one can fake that level of worry and concern. It was clear how much you cared for her. I chose to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I have been watching you... I’ve watched you like a freaking hawk... and if I had seen the slightest reason to doubt you, I would have swooped in like you were an injured squirrel I planned to devour for lunch!”

“You know... you’re starting to scare me.”

“Good!” Sienna smiled. “But you never gave me a reason to worry. You’ve been nothing but helpful and kind, and it means so much to me.”

“Well, thank you for saying that. I promise you, Sienna, I’d never take advantage of her. I’d never hurt again. You have my word.”

Sienna grabbed a pillow from Casey’s bed and held it close against her chest. “I believe you,” she smiled. “Do you love her, Tobias?”

The tender moment changed in an instant when Tobias jerked into an upright position, his eyes as wide as if that hawk was swooping down for him after all.

“What?” he gasped. “Love? No! No... it’s not like that... we’re friends! I told you I want to help her. I’m not trying to get her into bed or anything! You have to....”

“Relax,” Sienna interrupted. “I’m not accusing you of anything sordid. I’m asking you if you love her.”

Tobias shifted uncomfortably, and Sienna was devastated that she wouldn't be able to share these delightful details with Casey later. The great Dr. Carrick sputtering like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar... no, she'd save this story for her wedding toast instead.

“I care about Casey.. very much, but no, no... it’s not love...it’s not....”

“OK,” Sienna said matter-of-factly; her words attempted to put him out of his misery, but she couldn't wipe away that smirk.

“What?” he asked defensively.

“Oh, nothing,” she sang. “But you seem to forget what I told you... I have been watching Tobias. And I see everything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded, but Sienna was already heading toward the door.

“Nothing. You’re free to join me in the living room until Casey’s done.”

Giving up on the conversation, Tobias picked up his book and got comfortable in the chair. “I’m good here... Varma’s inside, and... she scares me a little.”

“She scares everyone a little,” Sienna concurred. “You read, but I’m right down the hall if you need anything.”

“I appreciate it,” he nodded. “Oh, and Sienna, there is a ton of leftover Thai in the fridge. Feel free to have some.”

“That sounds great! I think I will.”

“Oh, just one thing... don't eat the shrimp Pad Thai. That's Casey's favorite. I'd like her to have it when she's ready for a midnight snack."

"It is her favorite," Sienna said, her smile stretching ear to ear. "I wouldn't dream of touching it. And Tobias..." she said, slowly closing the door as she left.

"Yes?"

"Remember... I see everything."

If you're new to their story and want to read the next part as I fill in the gaps, you can read The Fine Print. Thanks so much for reading!

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

#choices fanfic #open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #sienna trinh #tobias x casey #playchoices #playchoices fanfic

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sun-dog-au · 1 year ago

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🌙Welcome to the SunDog AU!☀️

(In which you can ask Sniff questions!)

An alternate universe based in the general Moomin franchise created by @flowerbloom-arts , this blog follows the story of Sniff and a few other people in Moominvalley as strange things happen that have to do with their sky.

Sniff is an odd and easily tempted child who may not remember much of his own past, but perhaps time will tell if he is involved with these supernatural shenanigans!

[Join the AU discord]

[The AU in its current state is a reboot! To see the content made for the older version, you can look at the masterpost here]

Main Story

(Not written yet!)

Comics

While the AU is no longer a webcomic story, I'll still make comics for bits of story and songs that wouldn't fit into the main story, such as adaptations of moments from the books/comic strip or original backstory and silly moments from before or between the main storyline. These will be listed by order of in-universe chronology.

Adaptation - Moominmamma and Moomintroll adopt Sniff (Moomins and the Great Flood)

Lyric comic - Omen by Mother Mother (intro)

Illustrations

Sometimes I just do little drawings that don't fit elsewhere, so this is the section where I list the ones I did. These will be listed by date posted.

Miscellaneous

Pride Month profile pictures

Tarot Cards

(tba)

Reference sheets

Every character has a unique design that intentionally diverges from canon in the AU, so I made reference sheets for them! Some of them may be original characters, which are colored in red.

Sniff, Query

The Moomins and the Snorks

Snufkin, Little My, the Mymble's Daughter

Mrs. Fillyjonk and her kids, Mabel

The Muskrat, Stinky, Cedric, Mr. Hemulen, the Inspector

FAQ

Some bits of information are needed to be known before diving into the main plot of the AU. Here are some important questions about the setting of the AU that some of you may ask, or if a certain question is asked often enough, it'll be added here.

Any non-frequently asked questions about the meta of the AU that you may want to know will be in the #Queries To Bloom tag.

When does the story take place?

The story starts in the summer of 1949, less than 4 years after Sniff was found in a supersized dark forest by Moominmamma and Moomintroll while on their search for Moominpappa (a.k.a. Moomins and the Great Flood). After that, it's just a matter of figuring out the timeline yourself.

Which adaptation is this story following?

The story is set its own unique canon which primarily follows the books and comics, but does take characters, stories and lore details presented in Shin Moomin, Tanoshii Mūmin Ikka, Moominvalley 2019 and maybe even other sources.

Did the original stories made by the Janssons happen in this AU?

With very few details skewed here and there, the first few Moomin books (Moomins and the Great Flood, Comet in Moominland and Finn Family Moomintroll) have taken their place over the course of a year and a half from 1945-1946 in-universe. There are also a few comic stories, if changed in detail, which have already taken place for the 2 years before the story begins, these comics are; Moomin's Desert Island, Moomin Builds a House, Moominmamma's Maid, Club Life in Moominvalley, Moomin Falls in Love, Moomin's Lamp and Mymble's Diamond.

Other stories will either be adapted in the main storyline (the AU will be primarily written as an adaptation of different stories from previous adaptations with a few original stories) or will be implied as having happened between chapters.

#moomin #sun dog au #moomins #moominvalley #masterpost #master post #long post

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worldsokayestmagicalgirl · 1 year ago

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The first batch of pictures for Amoré's character journal are here! Also I have been so super sick that I've literally had nothing to do but to work on this for like almost 2 weeks so...

The cover to cover tour officially starts here. All I can say about the front & back is that I lament my lack of experience with my Cricut when I made these decals. I only had 2 "fun" colors to work with at the time & I was still getting comfortable drawing in Procreate, so my silhouette art leaves a lot to be desired compared to some stuff I've made recently. I also found it's incredibly easy to burn this leather book.

But she's volume one, everything with her is a learning experience, & I realized as much as it helps to have a mini heat press for tight corners & small spaces, the cloth barrier they suggest you use between the vinyl & the iron tends to make things harder to press on this scale. So instead I gotta quickly tap straight on the transfer film & hope I don't burn anything around it :(´◦ω◦｀):ﾟﾟ

So at the risk of thoroughly exposing my inner theater kid, Amoré set the precedent with how I went forward creating campaign characters. I started off collecting 5 songs to make a mini story arc (almost like a show choir set list 🙃) that helps me figure out an outline for the kind of story I wanna give them.

Somehow Amoré ended up with a truly horrendous blend of rock & theatre. Absolutely incredibe. No wonder she's always such a dramatic bitch.

It was a lot easier to go in & add little decals around these lyrics. I'm definitely cursed with the Too Much™ gene, but I enjoy the little pops of color they give ✨ plus it justifies me hoarding all these vinyl scraps printing stuff this small lol.

Stat sheet!

In all honesty, as my first character I had no fucking clue what I was doing when I placed these & if I could go back & change one thing I'd probably swap her Intelligence & her Wisdom. She’s definitely more people smart than book smart.

But everything else is...very accurate. She has all the upper body strength of a chicken nugget. Plus on top of the (already) negative I traded disadvantage on everything DEX for magic crystal shoes that can be periodically harvested. Just a way for her to carry around the family fortune without actually having to return to the vault✨

For something that started so average, her CON became a monster & always comes in clutch for her alcohol tolerance. I've played variations of her across a few different one shots & I always manage to roll well for anything alcohol related. The dice do respect a bit 🤣

Spells on the other hand, I floundered with a lot at first because we’re not a combat heavy game, but then I found Chaos Bolt & that was that. It’s essentially Amoré in spell form & I’ve had a ton of fun with it over the years. Also Mage Armor cuz my girl is SO DISTRESSINGLY SQUISHY.

Cantrips were more or less a bit of a toss up. Message was fun for the sheer idea of her using it to talk shit during social events without being caught. But aside from Light serving fun backstory purposes the other 3 are kinda just what looked fun ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ unless you count the idea that she would absolutely delight in zapping handshakes.

From there, I wanted to extend the world map made by our wonderful DM @cappierong into a full scroll. Ya know, for the aesthetic ✨

Our campaign started in Civania, where Amoré's main Estate is. I just wanted a quick mock up to reference, so I edited a preexisting picture I found that checked all the boxes (large, on a plateau, accessible only by bridge) and then absolutely smothered it in flowers.

But anyways... This is primarily where Diana & Amoré grew up together in their decade of backstory ✨

There was probably waaaay to much back & forth trying to keep the continuity between stuff I've already drawn & this big reference. But I think it turned out pretty ok? Not like if I make a mistake anyone will really know lol.

Scaling was also another big issue I had, & I moments where I thought something was too big I just kinda handwaved it away like "ehhhhh she's from a stupid rich family." But now I have a NEED to draw baby Diana & Amoré around like, the statue gardens or something cuz I feel like certain parts of this place are definitely ominous 👀 especially for children...

And lastly we have the back cover & the High Noble political relationship map! I normally have this closer to the front but for layout purposes it'll be here. I kinda feel like I need to do more for the decoration of it but I can’t think of anything else to add at the moment.

Sam if u read that no you didn't.

But now! Other than a family portrait that I've always wanted to draw, I think I'm ready to move onto the art for Season 1 : Arc 2. It's a pretty hefty amount of art in comparison to others, so I gotta get busy. Especially since I think I'm gonna have to draw a few comics *sobs*

If you made it this far, thanks so much for reading! I'm always excited to talk out our little idiots so thanks for indulging me ❀(*´▽`*)❀

#duo rong #dungeons and dragons #dnd character scrapbook #duo chronicles #amore bellridge #diana blackthorn if you squint #dnd #dnd character #dnd pc #dnd oc #character creation #character study(?)#dnd backstory #season 1 #dnd art #dnd campaign #campaign art

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veinsfullofstars · 1 year ago

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Veins’ Childhood Friends AU Masterpost

(AU started some time btw 09/23 and 10/23, info updated as of 06/30/25)

A collection of art, comics, and info pertaining to my Kirby series AU where King Dedede and Meta Knight first met as children, spanning from their youth growing up together all the way to present day (with all the hope and hurt that comes with it), featuring several OCs and characters from canon who grow up alongside them. If you have any questions about the AU, the characters, or just Kirby headcanons in general, please please please feel free to toss me an Ask - I love talking about the silly adventures these kids get up to and would love nothing more than to gab about them!

Anyway, here’s everything we have so far, organized roughly in timeline order (subject to change as I add more stuff):

• The very first doodles of the boys (with some establishing notes/headcanons)

Pre-Canon (before Kirby arrives)

Kid Years

A shooting star…?

Friendship doodles (with some notes/headcanons)

The Ghost Pepper Fiasco

Book buds

A discussion of leadership (one-off comic)

“This… is Galacta Knight.” (one-off comic)

Spring - rain

Summer - campfire sillies

Autumn - trick-or-treating (with some notes/headcanons)

Winter (part 1 - snow day)

Winter (part 2 - aurora)

Teen Years

A real italicized “Oh” moment - DDD edition (one-off comic)

Took you long enough (Metadede first kiss aftermath)

Adult Years

TBD

In-Canon (after Kirby arrives)

A old promise recalled… and finally fulfilled (future MetaDede fluff)

Additional Info

Fun Facts

Favorite foods

Favorite music

Para’s many bowties

Bandee & Bow (from Dedede’s perspective)

Love language and qualities (Metadede ask)

The jester and the wizard are here, too

So are the witches

Character Info

Para Dee & Bow Dee ref sheet (children)

Meet the Families: Bebebe & Jojojo (bonus: Madame Caldera) | Gear Dee, Eva, & Treble Dee | Breadee & Medee | Bonus: Meta

The Library Turtle (bonus: Paige & Sir Tort’s bond)

Other

Tag link | Chrono tag link

Kintsugi AU

#veins rambles #veins in dream land #kirby series #kirby #AU #childhood friends AU #masterpost #AU masterpost #in-progress #check for updates

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lilac-ravenclaw · 10 months ago

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50 OC Questions

These are questions are from @localravenclaw ‘s post. Thanks so much for reading; I would love to read about other MCs!🪻

1. Describe your OC's physical appearance in detail.

She is both Latina (on her father’s side, he was from South America) and British (on her mother’s side). She has long black hair that is usually in a French braid and draped over her shoulder. It’s very wavy when out of the braid. She has lilac color eyes, honestly I haven’t decided from which parent she got them from. She has tan skin and a tiny freckle high on her left cheek, just below her eye. She is petite and has a hourglass figure. She does have a few light scars on her back. The caretaker at the orphanage would verbally and physically “discipline” the children. Raven would try to step in so none of the littler kids would be hurt. She is self conscious about anyone seeing them.

2. Why'd you choose your OC's name?

For most RPGs, my character is always named “Raven”, so for HL it wasn’t any different lol. For her last name, honestly, it was an inside joke. I love the 70s show Fawlty Towers, with John Cleese. It only ran for about a dozen episodes but it’s hilarious. It was the first last name I could think of😄

3. How does your OC feel about their birthday?

Her birthday is Jan. 29, 1874, and she only cares about to a bit because her favorite poem, The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe, was first published on that day in 1845. She only starts to care more when Sebastian gives her a birthday gift in their sixth year, which are tiny gold snake earrings. It was her first ever birthday gift ever. (Side note: my birthday is also Jan. 29. I tried to think of another day but making her an Aquarius too just felt right ♒️)

4. How does your OC and their parents get along?

Unfortunately, Raven doesn’t know who her family is. She lived at the orphanage as long as she can remember. She won’t go looking for them, as she figures they would’ve already have come back for her at some point. In my story for her, the caretaker gave her the last name “Fawlty”, (and yes misspelling it on purpose) as another way to torment her. Though she keeps the name to prove to others that she isn’t “faulty”.

5. What's something you'd never put your OC through again?

Being alone. She has too many people around her that genuinely cares. Especially with having Sebastian in her life, she will never be alone again.

6. What's your OC's go-to comfort meal?

Breakfast foods. All kinds, pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, grilled tomatoes, and toast. There’s just something about a nice breakfast that makes Raven feel warm and cozy. It’s the simple things in life🍳

7. What career path would your OC take?

Though she feels it’s expected for her to be an Auror, Curse Breaker or working for the Ministry. Ultimately she has a love for music, specifically singing. She does try out for the choir at Hogwarts. The only person who knew was Poppy and she gave Raven the courage needed to try out their sixth year (now that she wasn’t in the middle of stopping a goblin rebellion!). She also knows how to play the piano too, and taught herself to play, however, she doesn’t know how to read sheets of music. 🎼

8. What's something your OC can't do?

Can’t say no to someone who needs help. Since no one was really there for her growing up at the orphanage, she believes that no one should feel helpless no matter the size of the problem. If she can help, she will!

9. What is your OC's ideal romantic partner?

Someone who will stand by her side and love her no matter what. They make her feel like she does belong and won’t be judged. They believe in her and encourage her to do what makes her happy.

10. Does your OC like to spend time alone or with others more?

Honestly, Raven can go either way. She loves spending time with her friends, especially Sebastian, and does prefer her close circle of friends. Though she is content with taking time for herself by either reading a good book, or practicing her music in the Room of Requirement.

11. What time does your OC usually go to sleep?

Depends really, school nights she’ll try to go to sleep at a decent time, if there isn’t too much homework. On weekends or summertime she’ll stay up late with Sebastian or hanging out with other friends.

12. Where in the sibling order is your OC?

Unknown, as far as she’s aware she is an only child.

13. What's the worst thing your OC's ever done?

Harming the orphanage caretaker. The caretaker was “disciplining” one of the smaller children and accusing them of stealing something from her room. Raven had just about enough of it with her and wished a bookshelf to fly across the room and slam into her. Everything had happened so fast and it took a moment for her to realize that’s exactly what happened. All the other children had looked at her with wide eyes and she quickly grabbed what few possessions she had and ran away. That was a few days before Professor Fig had come to the orphanage to gift Raven her Hogwarts letter. He was able to find her hiding out at a near by in a couple days later.

14. What would it take for your OC to kill someone?

By them hurting someone she loved/cared very dearly about.

15. What item does your OC hold most dear?

A copper cameo brooch given by Sebastian. It was a Christmas present, and was surrounded by little pearls and had the Ancient Magic symbol engraved in the center. She has worn it everyday since.

16. How does your OC unwind?

Practicing her singing and playing piano. She does want to learn how to read sheet music, but ends up just playing from the heart. Of course reading! Broom flying as well, as she finds it therapeutic. Even just relaxing with Sebastian in the Room of Requirement or Undercroft.

17. What's your OC's star sign?

Aquarius! Aquarians are intellectual, curious and can be deeply social. They are represented by the Star card in the tarot. They are determined to make a powerful difference in the world. ♒️

18. What kind of drunk is your OC?

She doesn’t normally drink, but she would be very chatty and giggly.

19. Who does your OC end up with?

Sebastian Sallow. He is her whole world and everything comes naturally with him. Her day doesn’t feel complete until she’s shared it with him. With him she feels anywhere they go, she’ll always be home.

20. Who is your OC's role model?

Professor Fig. He was her first father figure and the first to believe and guide her through such a challenging time. Not only with simply learning how to be a proper witch, but helping her learn about Ancient Magic and taking on a goblin rebellion.

21. Is your OC big on revenge?

Not necessarily. If she can, Raven will tell said person how she feels right then. If it’s minor she won’t go out of her way to get back at them. If it’s critical then she will do what it takes to get back at them.

22. If your OC ever got the chance, would they go back in time? When would they go?

Ultimately no she wouldn’t go back. Through her hardships growing up she believes it made her the woman she is. Though if she could go back, it would be to try and save both Lodgok and Professor Fig.

23. What's your OC's favourite memory?

Getting her Hogwarts letter would be one. She always felt there was something more to her life but didn’t fully understand what. The picnic her and Sebastian went on the summer before their sixth year. They had finally confessed their feelings for each other and had their first kiss.

24. Will your OC ever admit to being wrong?

Always! No one wants to admit they’re wrong but Raven knows it’s the right thing to do. She feels it’s better to put her feelings aside and admit when something is her fault and go from there. Except with Imelda, because she finds it funny to get her all riled up over nothing, especially when it comes to quidditch.

25. Is your OC doomed by the narrative?

Possibly. Not sure where the next game is going to go. All these little things I wrote about Raven is for me only and I fully look forward to see what will happen in the sequel!

26. Would your OC get along with you?

I would think so!☺️

27. What's one thing your OC will never get over?

Her fear of being alone and losing everyone she loves. She went from having no one to having a family in such a short time. To have that all taken away would be heart breaking.

28. Is your OC going to make it?

I’d like to think so. She’s been through so much but each time becomes stronger from it. Plus it helps to have the love of her life by her side. Sebastian gives her that extra boost of strength she didn’t know she needed.

29. Does your OC look their age?

Yes!✨

30. What weird pet would your OC have?

She has a pet Flying Fox Bat named Agnes since her seventh year. They can have a five foot wing span, and she’s basically as long as Raven is tall. So it took a bit for Sebastian to come around with her keeping Agnes. But Agnes is a bit sweetheart and loves being part of the family. Mini story of Agnes was she was living in captivity at the London Zoo and escaped one day. Making her way to the Forbidden Forest, Raven found her alone while taking a hike late one evening. They had an immediate connection and she’s taken care of her ever since. 🦇

31. Does your OC care a lot about their appearance?

Yes and no. Personal hygiene of course. Brushing a braiding her hair, definitely. If it’s a regular day then she does not mind wearing a casual outfit. Going out on a date with Sebastian, then she’ll put on a little makeup and get dolled up more because… why not?💄

32. What's one food your OC can't stand?

French Onion Soup. It was what was mostly served at the orphanage. Yuck!

33. What animal do people associate your OC with?

Probably the same as her Patronus, which is a black bear. That animal is known for their adaptability and resourcefulness. Others will see her as a fierce opponent who will protect herself and those close to her. Only those close to her will know of that softer side she usually keeps hidden away.

34. What's your OC's "thing"?

Depends on what the “thing” refers to… 😅🤔 if it’s behavioral then it’s fiddling with her braid when she’s nervous and can’t figure out what to say, thus being an awkward mess. If it’s material then probably her cameo brooch. If it’s physical then her lilac eyes of course!

35. Random fact about your OC

Despite being Latina, she doesn’t speak Spanish. Because Raven doesn’t know where part of her heritage comes from she never learned.

36. Would your OC sleep with a clone of themself?

…no…🫣

37. What part of yourself do you love in your OC?

Her loyalty to her the people she loves/cares about the most.

38. What's the lowest point in your OC's life?

After being “disciplined” crying herself to sleep and feeling so alone. Wishing and dreaming of a better tomorrow.

39. What's your OC's biggest achievement?

Finding a family. She believes family isn’t about blood, but finding people who will always be there no matter what and accept you for who you are.

40. Does your OC ever go back home?

She considered her “home” to be wherever Sebastian is. The orphanage was never her home.

41. How would your OC adapt to the modern world?

Since she loves music so much I think so. There’s so much emotion to express through music. With that I think she can adapt pretty quickly.

42. Does your OC have any unique talents?

As stated, she sings and plays piano. 🎤🎹 Though it takes a long time to finally share that passion with others.

43. Does your OC exist in canon or AU timeline?

Canon, I think.

44. Is your OC a people person?

Only with those in her inner circle. She will be cordial to others, unless they’re rude to her and then they won’t be worth her time anymore.

45. Did your OC ever have an alternative name?

Whatever her birth name was, but she’ll never know.

46. Does your OC possess any special powers?

Just being able to wield Ancient Magic.✨

47. Is your OC allergic to anything?

Just to people who are rude and mean to others for no reason.

48. Does your OC have a lot of uncommon knowledge? How do they know it?

I guess knowing able everyday muggle things that would seem weird to other people only growing up in the wizarding world.

49. Does your OC have any scars or birthmarks with an interesting story?

She has some scares from being “disciplined”, thankfully she can cover them with everyday clothes.

50. What do you love and hate most about your OC?

I hate that she isn’t real and that the wizarding world isn’t real😆 Otherwise no, I don’t nor can I hate Raven. I love her courage and kindness. That she’ll fight no matter hard things may seem, and always get back up after falling down. She’s had to overcome so much and was alone for so long but now she has a family.🪻💜

If you have finished reading then thank you so much!💜

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts #hogwarts legacy mc #ravenclaw #raven fawlty #q and a #50 questions #I would love to read about more MCs #this was a lot of fun to write

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justkending · 2 years ago

Text

Found Memories. Chapter 2.

Finding Memories Sequel: (I advise you to read the 1st series for context).

Series Summary: Following the aftermath of Finding Memories, Bucky tries to complete goals he feels she would have discovered for herself as a way to let her memory live on. However, he never expected to find someone very close to who he believed she would have been if given the chance of normalcy. A journey of mourning someone he lost turned into a journey of discovering someone new happens upon the soldier. Maybe this whole normal thing isn’t as bad as he had pictured it in his mind. Maybe he had a better shot at it than he ever tried to imagine.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (Teacher) Reader

Word Count: 4700+

Playlist Song: Magdalene by: The 502's

A/N: I know I said I wouldn't post another chapter until I finish writing the entire series, but I checked the follower count for the first time in a while and realized we passed 3000 followers recently!!! So I'm posting this in celebration of the 3155 people that have been kind enough to follow my writing journey and interact with stories that I put a lot of my time and effort into :) I can not explain how thankful I am for each and every one of your support!! XO

Chapter Notes: This chapter is written from the perspective of the reader. Each chapter will (for the most part) switch back and forth from Bucky and Y/N Clark's 1st person. I've read some books recently that did it in this format, and it was fun to read that way and see all points of view ;) Plus, I thought it was only fair that we saw Y/N's perspective from the last chapter, and you can get an idea of the character she will play. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it because this REALLY IS THE LAST chapter I'm posting until the series is complete. As always, please feel free to comment, even if just emojis or a few words. They all mean the world to a writer!!

Chapter 2:

I hadn't planned on going to the compound anytime soon, but Tony Stark had proved to be a sneaky man when it came to getting his way.

When I saw Morgan Stark on my enrollment sheet, my principal made a special visit to my room during the last week of summer when we reported before the kids. I was nervous about the kind of parent relationship that was to come after how serious she made the endeavor.

My principal, who is also one of the reasons I'm not staying at this school for another year, made it a big deal and practically scared me shitless that if anything was not to Mr. Stark's liking when it came to his daughter's education, it was on me to fix or else I'd be screwed.

It was a lot of pressure, considering this was a man who had saved humanity more than once and was likely to continue to rack up that number.

But the pressure was quickly taken away when he showed up to meet the teacher, and he and his wife, Pepper, were nothing short of kind and supportive parents every teacher hopes to work alongside of.

Now was he a little forward and slightly egotistical? Yes. But I was prepared, considering his reputation. Pepper balanced him perfectly and quickly put him in his place if he started getting a little too brash.

And it was quickly shown during any minor and major holiday that they were big-time gift-givers and loved to shower those that worked with them with random treats and thoughtful, yet overpriced, 'appreciations' as they called them.

I remember getting a card during Thanksgiving break that seemed simple and like any other card a parent sends as a thank you, but inside was a gift certificate for a spa day.

And no, not just a mani and pedi or a massage. It was an entire spa day treatment including; mudbaths, facials, full body massage, hot rock therapy, mani-pedi, acupuncture, and a list of other things I had never even heard of or knew as options. They had already paid for and scheduled it for me, and they had handed it to me like a Mcdonald's gift card.

I didn't feel right taking something like that from a parent even if I knew they were billionaires and it was equivalent to a Mcdonald's gift card to them. So I attempted to give it back and handed it back to Happy, who usually picked up Morgan and told him it was a kind offer, but I couldn't accept it.

The next day I had a bouquet of flowers waiting for me in the front office and a card that said;

"Sorry for leaving Tony in charge of your holiday gift. He doesn't realize how intense he gets in that department… But please do treat yourself to a spa day! I changed the package so that you and your sister can enjoy it together, and it's not nearly as overwhelming as the things he added to it. We appreciate all you do for our family. You deserve the pampering!"

It was a sweet gesture, and it felt rude to not take it after they had sent it back to me. I asked my assistant principal about it, who had Tony as a parent for the last 5 years, and she also said to take it. I wasn't used to the private school demographic as much, and she assured me that though it was nicer than what most parents gift, she's seen him gift more outrageous things that Pepper had to fix in the past.

"I had to talk him down from donating a hot air balloon ride for our field day last year. A spa gift certificate is nothing compared to what I've seen that man do…" she had said.

So though it still felt weird, I took advantage of it and took my younger sister to the spa, and we enjoyed the massages, mani-pedi, and facials we were kindly given.

All that to say, I've learned this semester that Tony was an ornery man. He reminded me of my father when it came to how he joked in conversations and how blunt he could be about his thoughts and ideas.

I had thrown something back to him during our first parent-teacher conference by the complete mistake of not filtering my thoughts. And when I thought I was going to get fired, he let out a loud laugh and told Pepper, "Finally, someone who can dish it back and not get butt hurt," he had laughed with a giant grin.

I apologized quickly and rambled about how he has remarks like my dad, and it was just a reflex to say what I countered with, and Pepper laughed too.

"It's ok, Ms. Clark. Tony needs the sass to keep him in line as often as possible."

"Yeah, it gets boring when people walk on eggshells around you. Where's the fun in etiquette?"

That got a quick eye-roll from his wife and a slap to the arm, which he laughed at, and we continued our meeting.

Since then, I have kept a professional demeanor around him, but I also don't hold back when he needs a quick sarcastic remark to put him in his place.

Now his sliding a resume into Morgan's homework folder was also on the list of things I was not expecting. Right next to the custom-made Stark iPad he gifted me for Labor Day. (Which who gives gifts for Labor Day?)

The resume was an offer to be a personal tutor for Morgan once she got to middle school. She was in 5th grade right now, and she was a bright girl. I don't know why he was worried about her having the extra help, but nonetheless, he offered me a job to be her full-time one-on-one tutor for next year.

He was willing to pay me enough that I wouldn't need a second job as a teacher. I would solely be Morgan's tutor, and the benefits and pay would be enough for me to work little hours for a salary that a top surgeon in New York would make.

A part of me struggled with the offer. I knew money-wise it would take care of everything I struggled with; rent, medical bills, helping my sister through college, and the list went on.

I should have jumped at this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work under one of the wealthiest and most admired men alive, but my heart could never accept something like that merely because it was such an outrageous opportunity to fall in my lap.

I kept saying in the back of my head that I hadn't joined this career for the money. It was never about the money.

The only reason I took a private school job this last year (which a friend was kind enough to get my foot in the door for) was that money was tight, and I needed the slight boost that public school funding couldn't give me. But I wasn't giving up teaching; I was just moving to a different group of kids to teach. A lot more privileged and supported demographic, but I was still influencing kids' lives.

Though after the last few months, I realized it wasn't a fit for me. As much as I wanted to make it be that and push my morals aside to continue so I could keep paying for things without going into debt, deep down, it wasn't what I signed up for.

I was meant to help the underprivileged and poverty-level kids. I was that kid that grew up with one parent working more than one minimum-wage job to make ends meet and the other being underpaid as a school teacher themselves for most of my life. The educators who aided and encouraged me to be where I am now made me passionate about the same efforts.

With all that to be said, I was moving back to the public school in New York after this year, and Tony had found out.

It wasn't that I didn't care for the kids at this school. I loved them. My group of 5th graders had become 18 of my own personal children. I wanted the world for them and everything in between. The difference was they could have the world and everything in between. They had access to those resources.

The kids I was going back to had lived in a world I knew far better than the one I was in. I wasn't of major aid to my upper-class students as much as I was to the lower class. And at the end of the day, my job wasn't about the money; I continued to remind myself. It was about the next generation getting the support they needed and deserved.

So when I saw that Morgan had left her sweater in the classroom before the break and I had the resume in my hand, I called and asked if I could come to talk with him about it.

I hadn't been to the compound, and the size and security of it all was nerve-racking. The number of guards, levels of clearance, and private entrances I had to go through just to meet him in the lobby was intense.

I couldn't help but marvel at the architect and the sufficiency the place ran on while walking up the steps outside into the building.

People were walking around in grey and neutral-colored attire, and I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb with my bright red and checkered winter coat. Though I like neutral colors, I was never one to keep strictly to that. It was near impossible for me to pass up an accessory or statement piece that popped with color. Hence why I always got the comment, "Oh, you're an elementary teacher? You definitely have the wardrobe for it."

Thank God I spotted Tony only a few seconds after entering the foyer because there were three different reception desks, which I'm sure went to all kinds of departments of the massive establishment, but I wasn't sure which one to approach.

He approached me with open arms and gave me a hubristic smile as I gave him a keen one in return.

"The homework folder is meant to hold Morgan's work. Not your side hustles," I said with a raised eyebrow as I handed him a new folder with just the resume in it.

"It's work from a Stark; does that not count?" he said back, his grin never leaving.

"Yeah, but the work I'm supposed to review is usually based on story elements and division facts. I don't think Morgan is worried about salary levels and insurance benefits at her age."

"With a work ethic like her mother and a brain like her mother… She'll be managing a place like this in no time," he placed his hands in his pockets, not taking the folder just yet.

I handed off the sweater instead and held onto the folder, knowing I wouldn't be leaving with it either way.

"That I can't argue. But she may want to get her math down before she starts something like that up," I held onto my tote bag with one hand and dropped the other with the folder.

"Which is why I had that in her folder, so math and whatever else she needs help in, she can have you to h-."

He was cut off when a tall, dark-skinned man approached abruptly. I recognized him as one of the Avengers but didn't want to seem shocked or freaked out, considering I was in their home, basically.

"Hi," he said.

Running to his side was a second Avenger I somewhat recognized, but he seemed more hesitant and nervous compared to the man with a sweet gap-toothed smile in front of me.

Tony's light and teasing mood seemed to disappear with his interruption, and he took a breath before saying, "I told you I would help you after I talked with-." He was cut off as the man patted him on the arm and went to introduce himself.

"Sam Wilson," he smiled kindly, offering his hand, which I smiled back and took.

"Y/N Clark. Nice to meet you."

Sam seemed to give his friend a silent look that communicated something else, and the blue-eyed man extended his hand as well.

"James Barnes," he gave a tight-lipped smile like he was being forced to converse, but I returned a firm handshake and responded.

"Mr. Barnes. Nice to meet you."

I realized then I had seen this man earlier today at the coffee shop I stopped at before my errand here. I didn't have my head on straight at the time cause my sister had called saying that the repair man who was supposed to fix our balcony door had once again canceled and rescheduled. This was the fourth time now, and it felt like our apartment was crumbling beneath us with the 20 other things my landlord had kept pushing off.

I thought I saw him staring then too, but like most strangers, I see in public, I just gave a brief smile and moved on with my day. Though in New York, I'm still learning that isn't a regular thing here. Many native New Yorkers could go the whole day not making eye contact with a single soul on the overpopulated streets.

I brushed past the fact he was studying me like I was him, as if we were both looking for an answer to a question we didn't even know.

Tony turned all of our attention back to him as he introduced me to them briefly and promptly gave them death glares. Clearly, they were waiting on something from him, and he wasn't showing patience for what I assume were usual antics between the two with how they talked to each other.

"Cyborge and Birdman, this is Ms. Clark. She's Morgan's teacher. Ms. Clark, these are two of my most impatient co-workers. Who I asked to give me a second before I talked with them…"

"Thank this one for the interruption," James said while childishly shoving his friend to the point he teetered on his feet.

"Just seemed rude to not introduce your colleagues," Sam gritted.

"It's fine," I spoke up, attempting to break some of the tension building. And instantly, Mr. Barnes's eyes were back on me like they had been in the coffee shop. But I acted like I didn't notice and turned to Mr. Stark. "I was here to just drop off these two things anyway."

I handed the folder off successfully this time since his attention was turned to the other two, and he took it while staring at them still.

"Yeah, well, I had a few things I wanted to discuss without… This interruption." If looks could kill, his co-workers would be in a casket 6 feet under right where they stood.

"I appreciate what you're offering, but I've already told you I have a job set with another district after this year."

James Barnes was grinning like a child who just got revenge, but why, I wasn't sure.

"Yeah, but… Money." Tony said the last word like it was a magic word that would make me reconsider everything instantly and fold.

"Money is great and all, but it's not what this is about, Mr. Stark." I couldn't help but laugh even if deep down I knew the risk I was taking not accepting his proposal. I went to readjust my tote on my shoulder as a nervous tic. "Maybe after winter break and I get some paperwork back from the new school I'll be at, we will better understand what I'll have on my plate."

"That sounds like a well-worded way to put this conversation off," Tony smirked.

He wasn't wrong. I had worded it specifically as a way to keep it on the table for him knowing he'd never relent, but also to be able to walk away from the conversation and not get convinced out of my already made-up mind.

"It's Christmas break, Mr. Stark. Have a great vacation with your family, and happy holidays," I nodded, starting to turn out to walk, but before I was completely turned back, I looked at the other two men. "You two as well. I hope the world is kind enough to give you all a break as you deserve during this time."

It was true. Crime and bad guys never ended, from what the news showed, and I couldn't imagine what big holidays looked like around here.

"If I know anything about teaching, I know you'll need a break just as much," Sam shouted towards me after I was a few feet away, making me laugh.

"Happy Holidays," I said a final time before moving for the exit, thankful that the two men were there to distract Tony from trying to convince me to join his payroll.

___________________________

"Oh sweet loving sister of mine, I'm home," I shouted in a sing-song voice but was abruptly cut off when I shut the door, and she stood on the other side like a damn statue. "Mother Fu-! Hallie!" I shouted after a scream let out of me first. "Why the hell are you acting like a Victorian ghost-child and standing there like that?"

"Why didn't you tell me where you were going?" she said, quickly bypassing how she made my heart practically stop beating for 5 seconds too long.

"I told you I was going to run errands," I answered vaguely, already knowing where she was going with this but not wanting to give her the advantage.

"Yeah, errands don't normally involve going to the Avenger's Compound!" she shouted with her arms up as she watched me walk into the kitchen and follow me.

"Jesus, lower your voice. We have neighbors," I grumbled, throwing my bag on the hooks on the wall and taking my coat off as well.

"Answers, please," she crossed her arms like a mother who had just caught her daughter sneaking out to a party.

"I had to drop off something that Morgan left at the school. I figured she'd want her coat for winter break," I answered honestly, just leaving out a few other details.

"Like she wouldn't have a whole room for winter coats alone. Why did you really go?" Hallie continued to interrogate.

I looked at her, and she was unwavering. I let out a huff of air, going to the fridge to grab a Dr. Pepper and the sweet cream to make my favorite drink after an eventful day.

"I'm not lying when I said I went to drop that off," I said, pouring the soda into a glass and waiting for the foaming bubbles to go down. "And you know exactly why I didn't tell you I was going there."

"You act like I'd go insane if I stepped a single foot on that estate," she groaned, pulling a stool out at our island/ kitchen table in the tiny New York City apartment we shared. "Even if Captain Roger's has walked on those tiles and maybe breathed in the same air and all…"

"Here we go…" I mumbled, shaking the creamer bottle as I waited for what I knew was to come.

"And so what if Natasha Romanoff has probably sat in the chairs or road the elevator that leads to what I assume are suites and apartments they have to themselves on the top levels?" she paused for effect as if waiting for me to confirm or deny as if I would know. But I just stared at her, and she continued without hesitation. "It's no big deal that Sam Wilson has probably flown the EX0-7 Falcon wingsuit in the field that surrounds the compound. Or maybe even hearing Steve playing an old jazz record. I know that cause there was a girl who used to live on his street when he stayed in the city, and she said there were a few nights that he would play all kinds of old songs with beautiful trumpet solos. Oh, and!"

I absentmindedly poured the practiced amount of sweet cream into the Dr. Pepper, grabbed a straw to stir it, and took sips of it as I patiently waited for her to finish her fantasies.

She went on about Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, and any other Avenger that came to mind until she noticed me stop sipping my drink and start to slow-blink at her.

"Stop. I know that look," she pointed, stopping in her rant abruptly.

"What the you-just proved-my-point look?" I fluttered my eyelashes at her and took another sip.

"Shut up," she sneered, even though she knew I was right.

As if he had just realized people were home, her small senior brown-haired and deaf dog came hobbling around the corner and yipped when he looked at me.

"Hey, Chuck Norris," I sighed, and he came up to me, barking at my leg like I was an intruder in my own home. "I still don't think he's used to me."

"You say that like you didn't live with him for 10 years," Hallie laughed, walking over and picking him up with one hand and cradling him in her arm.

"Three of those years were just visits back home. I figured after a month of you being moved in here, his memory would catch up to realize I'm still the same person when we first rescued him."

Chuck Norris was a tiny little mutt my sister had found behind a dumpster in the parking lot of a Cracker Barrel close to where we lived when we were younger.

The vet had said he was already about four or five when we brought him in, but he had no microchips or anything showing he belonged to someone. He was also malnourished from only eating scraps that fell out of the dumpster since he wasn't big enough to scrounge through it himself. So he came with a laundry list of things he needed fixing with his tiny weak body.

We only ever had one cat growing up, so it was a responsibility my parents weren't too sure about taking on. But my sister being who she is, made a presentation the next night and was able to persuade them to let her keep him for at least a month to show she could handle it.

After a month, they saw how special of a dog he was to her and how she was practically the only one he trusted, and they couldn't just send him to the pound after that.

The laundry list of illnesses and help he was going to need to get him back on his feet led to a lot of medical bills in his future. But luckily, an old friend of mine I had gone to high school with went into Veterinary school and helped my family out a few times since we were still close.

Now Chuck Norris lived here, and he didn't care that I, even if I was paying most of the bills, lived here along with him. He only trusted one person wholeheartedly in his life, and that was my sister.

Now being 14, possibly 15 years old, his eyes weren't great, and he was almost a hundred percent deaf besides sharp noises he happened to hear every once in a while. I'm almost positive he had some form of dementia, too, cause he treated me like a stranger most of the time.

He must have been sleeping when I came in cause a lot of times, if he sees my walk in, he's at my feet barking and acting like he's going to be the one to bring an end to the big monster that teases and picks at his mom.

As for the name… Don't ask. My sister's an anomaly, and that's the only answer I have to give for that.

"Back to the question at hand," my sister continued, and I groaned overdramatically before walking to the couch with my drink and turning the TV on. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to see the Tony Stark?!"

"First off, I think you answered that question when you went on your little tangent of extremely specific details. You've for sure daydreamed about the Avengers, you nerd," I started, looking up at her where she stood by the coffee table with the glossy-eyed brown mutt in her hand, who I couldn't tell was looking at me or the window that was behind me. "And second, who's to say I even saw Mr. Stark? I was just dropping off a sweater, and I could have very well just left it at reception and carried on with my day."

"It's the fact you're saying it all as a 'could have' scenario instead of just saying you did," she deadpanned.

She had me there, and that one was on me.

"It's not like it's the first time I've ever met him. He is the parent of one of my students, so it's not a big deal to me anymore," I brushed it off and looked to the TV, and started mindlessly scrolling through the evening shows.

She immediately cut off my view by standing right in front of it.

"Move," I said, peeking my head around her body, which she quickly blocked again.

"Once, I'm asking once, that I get to meet him," she bargained.

"Eventually. Just not before the break. We're all tired and have been busy, him, I'm sure more than anyone, and I don't think the compound is where he wants to worry about crazy obsessed fans bombarding him," I looked at her with a big-sister stare. "Now, the whole thing is already over and done. Can I please just drink this and watch an episode of this documentary I've been waiting to decompress to all day?"

As if I was asking too much and the universe needed to humble me, the coat rack I had hung my coat and tote bag earlier fell to the floor with a harsh crash.

I didn't even look in the direction of the latest home improvement added to the list, but instead closed my eyes and sat up some.

"Classic," I mumbled and started to move to the closet we kept our toolbag in, but before I could stand up, Hallie stopped me.

"Don't. I bargained with the building repair man to come tomorrow instead of making us wait another week," she said, looking back at the damage. "He can do that as an extra fix for being an ass."

"How'd you manage that?"

I looked at her, impressed, considering the guy was a nuisance and very much a man's man. In other words, "How could two girls on their own ever manage without a big strong man to come and save them when things fell apart?" I think he got off on being able to make us wait for him when it came to things we couldn't actually fix. Talk about a savior complex.

"I said I had to bake some cookies for one of my classes and said I would bake some extra if he came sooner," she shrugged.

"You're a musical theater major. What class is having you bake cookies?" I gave her a weird look.

"None. I just didn't want him to think I was baking them just for him," she said with a witty smile.

"Attagirl," I chuckled, patting the couch next to me. "Just for that, I'll let you pick which documentary we binge tonight."

"Why is it always with the documentaries?" she huffed, sitting next to me despite acting like she was upset with the option.

"Don't lie and act like you don't get sucked in." I stood up and put the now half-empty drink down. "I'm going to change, but look through the ones we've already started and pick from those."

"Does Unsolved Supernatural with Shane and Ryan count?" I heard her shout as I turned into my room.

Normally the answer was no, but I could go for something fun and not so serious.

"Sure, but pick a good episode!" I shouted back. "Let Christmas break commence…"

The tags have not been acting right as of lately, so if I tagged you and you did get a notification, please let me know! I'm trying to see if people are getting the notifications or not. Thank you!

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