#i guess unvirtue signalling?

[crochetwizardman]

*virtue signals about chain smoking and fucking crackwhores*

[booxmowo]

Lucy Westenra: The funny thing about dying in the middle of a horror novel is that literary analysts will interpret absolutely anything I do as the reason for my death.

Lucy Westenra: It was annoying at first but I've decided to roll with it.

Lucy Westenra: I had an apple for lunch, a symbolically charged fruit that marks me as like Eve: A woman who will give in to temptation. The temptation to get attacked in my sleep. I guess.

Lucy Westenra: Now, quite soon after lunch, I am going to get a snack from a vending machine. My large appetite is obviously a metaphor meant to signal that I have a large sexual appetite as well, which is an unvirtuous character trait that must be punished.

Lucy Westenra: Oh, but the vending machine is out of order. The fact that I don't bother to search out another vending machine indicates that I am weak willed and will fail to save myself.

Lucy Westenra: I'm walking home by myself. Now you might think that me being alone right now indicates that I am a generally lonely person; that I have trouble connecting with people and therefore no one will have my back when I am in danger. However I actually have a very close-knit group of friends and they symbolize me being too dependent on others to survive on my own.

Lucy Westenra: The actual walk home was uneventful. Clearly the uneventfulness of the walk is indicative of the uneventfulness of my life that I'm no doubt secretly unsatisfied with. This is the reason I'm unconsciously drawn to an exciting, mysterious stranger who will murder me without me ever seeing him.

Lucy Westenra: I found a spider in my kitchen and was careful to remove it without hurting it. This act of compassion towards a creature traditionally labelled as creepy must be because I have a secret fascination with the macabre, and that fascination must mean that I on some level want to be killed and turned into an unholy predator that sustains itself with the blood of infants.

Lucy Westenra: But wait! Now I'm standing in a distinctly spider-free kitchen! This makes me a symbol of traditional femininity, and my death is the story's rejection of traditional values!

[wordscorrupt]

Iron Dad Secret Santa

Here is my gift for @garbotuesday for the @irondadsecretsanta event! I hope you enjoy this!

Link to the fic AO3!

~~~~~

The fifth one this week.

Mildred thought to herself noticing the scrawny teen enter the lobby of her motel. He was drenched to the bone and she watched as he took a few moments to shake off the excess water, before realizing he was creating a puddle of mess on the floor. In an instant, wide, forgiving eyes looked up at her and before the boy could stammer out an apology, Mildred motioned him forward with a pudgy finger.

The young teen walked over to the desk, timid and afraid. She offered the most reassuring smile she could before leaning in, resting her arms on the counter. “What can I do for you, hon?”

“I – uh – I need a place to stay, ma’am,” The boy said through chattering teeth. He sniffled, running a shivering hand beneath his nose.

She tried not to frown. “I see, hon. For how many nights?”

The boy swallowed, reaching into one of the pockets of his soaked, tattered jacket. A moment later he pulled out a few crumpled and torn bills. She watched as the boy took a careful glance at the sign placed on the counter, stating the 59.95 per night rate. He bit his lip, starting to count the meager amount of money in his hands.

Heart aching, she reached out, gently grabbing at his wrist. Too thin. He jumped, tightening his grip around the money and holding it close to his chest, as if she intended to snatch it away from him.

She loosened her grip, giving off the most reassuring smile she could, hoping it would put him at ease. His eyes darted around the lobby, most likely eyeing an escape.

She took a deep breath before saying, “I asked how many nights, sweetheart, not how much money you had. Don’t worry about that for right now. You just tell me how long you need a place to stay for, darling.”

The boy glanced from the door back to her. She noticed the tears at the corner of the boy’s eyes and the sadness behind them only demonstrated just a little of the pain he must being going through.

“Just a couple days, ma’am. Please.”

Mildred patted his hand softly, pulling back to grab one of the keys on the board behind her. “Let’s start with a week, honey and go from there, okay? Room thirty-two. Free breakfast served from 6 am to 9 am.”

The boy’s eyes widened at the information and Mildred couldn’t ignore the loud grumble coming from his stomach. She hobbles around the counter, carefully approaching the boy.

“Let’s get you settled into your room, hon. A shower would do you good as well and in the meanwhile, I’ll whip up a meal for you.”

The teen shook his head, stammering, “You don’t have to do that. I’ve got snacks.” He motioned towards the bag in his hands, unconsciously pulling it closer to his side.

Mildred eyed the tattered duffle bag in his hands and fought the urge to wrap the boy in her arms.

She smiled, showcasing her tired wrinkles. “Which you can save for later. No arguments now. Shower, meal and sleep.”

The teen offered her the tiniest hint of a smile which was more than she could have asked for that night.

A few hours later, after her new resident was settled in for the night, Mildred had been reading her book when the bell above her door chimed once more. She glanced up.

Now, this is interesting.

While this was a relatively small town and her, herself, being a relatively simple woman, she still had no trouble recognizing the rather frantic man in her motel lobby.

Tony Stark made a beeline towards her counter, face etched with a mixture of panic and determination. She set her book off to the side and straightened herself up in her chair, her spine disapproving of the action.

“And what can I do for you, sir?” She asked, crossing her arms in front of her, trying to convey as much calmness as possible while internally all her signals were set off.

“There’s a boy here. Peter. Peter Parker. Short, skinny. H-he’s got black, curly hair. He must have checked in a few hours ago. You have to tell me which room he’s in,” He replied, voice rough and scratchy.

Mildred mouth formed into a tight line and she had to bite her tongue. She was used to her establishment being used for certain unvirtuous gatherings but it was mostly kept to the middle-class men deep into their midlife crisis who were able to snatch up the girl offering the cheapest price.

She certainly was not used to billionaires and especially those that toyed with being a superhero on the side.

She slid off her chair, standing straight and pointed a finger into the man’s face.

“You listen to me right now, Stark. I don’t know what plan on doing with that poor young boy but it ain’t happening. You’re better off turning around and walking out this door right now and I can forget this ever happened,” She spatted out.

Stark shook his head, fumbling around in one of his coat pockets as he replied, “No, please! He’s – he’s not – you have it wrong!”

She watched as the man pulled out his phone, frantically skimmed through it and a moment later he shoved the device into her face. She took a step back before being met with another version of the boy standing her lobby just a few hours earlier. He’s standing next to Stark, who has an arm wrapped around the boy’s shoulders, holding him close. They are grinning widely, holding up a framed certificate.

Stark took a deep breath and explained, “He’s one of my interns. His aunt just died. I’ve been trying to track him down for days. Please. I know he’s here and I know he’s scared. He needs me.”

Mildred swallowed heavily, her thoughts racing through her mind. She was not a naive woman by any means, but there had been times that others have gotten the best of her before. And while Stark could be one of those people, deep down she knew he was telling the truth.

She sighed deeply before nodding her head. “Room thirty-two.”

~~~~

The second the door to the motel room opens and Tony sees Peter standing there, he fights the urge to collapse into tears.

“M-mister Stark?” Peter stammer out and before he gets another chance to bolt, Tony steps forward and wraps his arms around the teen, pressing his face into the curls. He takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself in reality, facing the fact that his kid was back in his arms. He hears the unmistakable sound of Peter sobs and tightens his hold, pressing a kiss to his head. He thinks he might never let go of him.

“Jesus Christ, Peter. Jesus fucking Christ. Do you have any idea the hell I’ve been in these past couple of days?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he curses himself. Peter had gone through worse. Much worse than him. The kid had been dragged to hell and back, over and over.

He hears Peter trying to sputter out an apology and shushes the kid gently. “It’s okay, bud. It’s okay. Just thank God, you’re okay.”

Peter wraps his arms around him, crying into his chest and Tony presses another kiss to his head.

He doesn’t know how long they stand near the entrance of the room but eventually, he peels the teen off of him in order to take a good look at him. He gently cups the kid’s face with both hands, using his thumbs to wipe away his tears. He feels the heat radiating off Peter’s skin and listens to the wheezing coming from his chest. It’s no surprise the teen has fallen sick after wandering around in the frigid air for the past week.

“Come here, kiddo.” Tony pulls the kid back into his arms. Peter shivers slightly as he leans in to Tony’s side. Tony doesn’t hesitate before guiding the teen back to bed, helping him get settled underneath the covers before crouching down beside him. Peter stares back at him with wide, pleading eyes that are swollen and red from crying.

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers as Tony begins to thread his fingers through the boy’s tangled mess of curls, trying to gently ease out some of the knots.

“Shh, none of that right now, bud. If anyone needs to apologize, it’s me. I should have been there for you and I wasn’t.”

Peter shakes his head, bottom lip trembling as he replies, “You were out of the country. You couldn’t have known.”

“Phones exist, kiddo, and somewhere along the way I failed to teach you that you can always reach out to me for anything.”

It’s quiet for a few moments before Peter lets out a loud sob. “I was s-so scared.”

Tony crawls up onto the bed and a moment later he’s cradling the boy in his arms.

“She was gone. Just like that. A-and they wouldn’t let me see her. I begged and they still wouldn’t. They tried to make me go with them but I couldn't. I just couldn't,” Peter cries, voice stuttering and raspy.

Whoever they were, Tony was going to rip them into shreds.

Tony rocks Peter in his arms, murmuring, “Easy, kiddo. I know it’s hard, but I need to you relax a little. You’re already having trouble breathing.” He gently rubs circles on the kid’s back, hoping to ease the tension in his muscles. He wants nothing more to get Peter back home with him, but the last thing his kid needs is to be whisked away in the middle of the night. From his best guess, this was the first solid bed Peter would be sleeping on in days.

Tony gets lost in his thoughts and when he glances back down at Peter, the kid is tucked into his chest, sound asleep. He lets out a deep sigh of relief, before tightening his grip and continuing to rock him gently through the night.

~~~~~

The next morning, Mildred watches out her lobby windows, holding her breath as Stark leads the child to his car.

The boy looks worse for wear, with a pale sickly face accompanied by dark circles under his eyes but he's at least in clean, dry clothes. He has to stop walking for a moment when he begins to cough and needs to catch his breath but Stark is there holding him close and rubbing his back. She watched as Stark help him into the passenger seat, tucking a blanket around him before buckling his seatbelt in. She sees him press a kiss to the side of the boy’s head before turning around. Before she knows it, he’s heading towards her and she scrambles behind her counter. She takes a seat right as he steps into the lobby, greeting with a smile.

“Peter told me you didn’t make him pay anything last night,” He says while pulling out his wallet. Before Mildred can say anything he pulls out a check and holds it out to her close enough for her to read the amount and her eyes widen.

“That is too much,” She says with a shake of her head, backing away slightly.

Stark huffs out a laugh, licking his lips before saying, “I have the wildest idea Peter isn’t the only lost kid out there you’ve helped out. Consider this a donation to your cause. Please. It’s the least I can do.” He places the check on the counter and she shakes her head once again, this time in disbelief.

“Thank you,” She whispers, grabbing the check and carefully tucking it into her pocket.

“No, thank you. If you hadn’t taken him in last night, I don’t know where he’d be now.”

She glances behind him, to the car where Peter is settled in. She smiles softly before stating, “Promise to take good care of that child from now on Stark.”

“Trust me, that’s a promise I’ll never break.”