#like half of this is guess-work tbh

[softguarnere]

Help girl I'm writing fics set in this au that are above my skill level

Anyways, here's 5 times Tony saves Chiara + 1 time she (unknowingly) saves him

I.

Five-year-olds should not be this argumentative. 

Crap, okay – six-year-olds. But, to be fair, it’s easy for Tony to forget Chiara’s age by virtue of the fact that he was being tortured in a cave when her birthday rolled around back in April. But the sentiment still stands – someone so young shouldn’t be so damn stubborn.

Although it’s not even really the kid’s fault when half of her chromosomes are Stark and the other half are St. Claire. Tony doesn’t know much about Monica’s family, but the woman was the best damn lawyer he ever met, so arguing is basically in Chiara’s blood. Which currently does not bode well for him.

“But I don’t want to go!” Chiara insists. Even though the kid hasn’t seen her mom since the week she was born, she somehow crosses her arms and makes the exact same disappointed expression that Monica basically trademarked – the one that made regular appearances during her arguments with Tony. It also doesn’t help that Chiara is basically a miniature version of her. 

“You love Disneyland,” Tony counters. “You’re always begging me to take you.” 

Chiara frowns. And, okay, the frown is actually all him. Tony knows for a fact that’s exactly what he looks like when he makes that face. The combination of genetics at play here would be fascinating to analyze if he wasn’t so busy trying to get his daughter out of the house. 

“Because I like going with you. I want you to take me,” Chiara says. “I don’t wanna go with Katherine!” 

Katherine? Tony could have sworn the nanny’s name was Jessica. Oh, well. No matter what her name is, she’s attractive, and she seems nice enough. Pepper trusted her enough to hire her when Tony tasked her with finding a good nanny. That was really all it took to convince him at the time – good looks and the seal of approval from Pepper Potts. 

Tony sighs. “Well, you’re not going with just Katherine. I mean, for the first night at least, but then I’m gonna meet you guys there.” 

Brown eyes narrow at him from between a furrowed brow and a pouted lip. “Promise?” 

“Yeah, Ari. I promise.” If nothing bad happens to me before then, a pessimistic voice in the back of Tony’s mind nags. If I can figure out what’s going on and stop it before someone comes after me – or you. 

“Because you promised not to leave me again,” Chiara reminds him. 

Shit. That’s true. But that was under different circumstances, when he first got back to the States. Things have changed now. And, most importantly, Chiara can’t know that.   

Tony kneels down so that he can look her in the eye. It seems more fair if it feels like they’re on an even playing field. “I’m not leaving you, Ari. It’s just for a little while so that I can get some things worked out. But you’ll have so much fun at Disney that you won’t even notice that I’m not there.” 

Under her breath, Chiara mutters something that sounds suspiciously like I always notice, but Tony doesn’t have the heart to call her out on that kind of thing. Not anymore. Not when she’s right. So instead, he reaches out a hand and ruffles her dark hair before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

I’m doing it to keep you safe, he thinks to himself, as if thinking it forcefully enough will make her realize that this is necessary without scaring her. You’re my whole world now, but I have to protect you from what’s out there in the real world. 

“I’ll see you in a few days,” Tony promises as he sends Chiara off with Katherine/Jessica/whatever her name actually is. He stands in the doorway and watches as the car pulls out of the driveway. From the back window, Chiara’s little face appears, looking sad, but at least offering him a wave. And he returns it, and keeps returning it, until the car is completely out of sight. 

“She’s gone,” Obidiah is saying not even an hour later when he’s got Tony lying paralyzed on the couch while he monologues in true villain fashion. “That’s good. I actually like that kid. She’s smart. Unlike somebody I know, she might actually have a chance. And I would hate to have to see her get hurt because of you.” 

The implied threat somehow hurts worse than having the Arc Reactor ripped out of his chest. 

Yeah, me, too, Tony thinks as one of his life forces is ripped away from him. At least the other is over halfway to Disneyland by now. Which means that Tony has done it – because as long as Chiara isn’t in this line of fire, then Tony has kept his world safe. 

II.

Ah, shit. Tony should have known better than to leave Chiara by herself, even for a few minutes.

It’s not that the kid is poorly behaved, or anything. The opposite, actually. In public, she’s so polite that Tony actually starts to question whether she’s his kid or not, because there’s no way a Stark could be that down to earth, right? Despite everything that’s happened since the press conference, Chiara is still joyfully optimistic towards most strangers. As far as Tony knows, there isn’t a single person on the planet that she hasn’t ever greeted with a smile and an excited exclamation of, “Hi, I’m Chiara! How are you?” 

No, it’s other people’s behaviors that are usually the problem. Like right now.

“Fuck,” Tony mutters to himself as he walks back to the table. This is his own fault. He told himself that Chiara would be fine sitting by herself for a few minutes while he stepped into the bathroom to check his blood toxicity. It’s also his fault for giving the kid’s nanny the night off. Although, in Tony’s defense, that seemed like a really nice idea at the time. After all, he’s trying to spend more time with Chiara, as much as he can. And when he’s gone, he wants her to have good memories of just the two of them, like a normal kid would – not the two of them and Happy lurking in the peripheral for security, or the two of them plus the hot nanny who she’ll have all the time in the world with once the palladium finishes catching up with him.

He had assured himself, too, that no one would bother Chiara out here on the balcony of the restaurant. It’s their first night in Monaco. There can’t be that many people who know the Starks are here already. 

Not for the first time in his recent life, Tony is proven wrong. 

“And there he is now,” one of the reporters gushes as she looks up and spots Tony coming towards them. 

He wants to scowl. Wants to snap at them all to get the hell away from his kid like any normal father would. These people are vultures, the whole lot of them. There’s no telling what they’ve asked Chiara, taking advantage of her age to trick her into saying something she doesn’t really mean so that they can get a headline or a good soundbite. Tony would know – people used to do the same thing to him when he would go out with Howard as a kid.

“Hi, Daddy!” Chiara chirps brightly from where she’s holding court. She’s sitting exactly where Tony left her, just like he told her to, and the group of reporters have made themselves at home in the empty chairs surrounding her, or even just standing crowded around her with their recorders and mics. Oh, to touch the hem of a Stark’s garment must mean the world to them.

There was a time when Tony wouldn’t have cared about a scene like this. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even have noticed it, because he would have been next door gambling, drinking, and otherwise taking advantage of all the Monte Carlo has to offer. He would have made some comment about how Chiara will have to get used to being the center of the media storm sooner or later, and that it’s best she learns young . . . But everything has changed since the cave. Since Yinsen’s stories about his own family. Since the Arc Reactor and Iron Monger.

How can Iron Man save the world when he can’t even protect his own daughter? 

Tony still wants to yell, to snarl, to chase them off. Instead, he plasters on his best media star smile and plays the game. 

“Hey, princess,” Tony beams, because even if he would take out all these reporters, he could never be mad at Chiara. “Who are your friends?”

Chiara can’t possibly realize how funny it is when she begins pointing to individual reporters and telling Tony their names and what media outlet they work for, as if this is the answer he’s looking for. But these media vultures eat it up, laughing and gushing over the heiress as she does so, looking absolutely thrilled when she knows who they are. 

Normal kids don’t have to do things like this, part of Tony’s mind points out, which makes him want to frown. But part of him almost wants to smile, because that (vain) part of his mind counters with, The kid is a natural. She’s got them all wrapped around her little finger, and she doesn’t even know it. 

“Ah,” Tony replies. Reporters part before him like the Red Sea as they jump out of his way, clearing a path and allowing him to reclaim his seat next to his daughter at the table. Good. They should be afraid of him. And Chiara, too, for that matter. Tony takes off his sunglasses and settles them over his daughter’s face, partly because he knows she likes wearing them, and partly to give her armor to protect her from this media battle that she doesn’t even know she’s fighting. “Well, as much fun as I’m sure you’re all having together, this was supposed to be a father-daughter dinner – not a playdate.”  

A good chunk of the reporters take the hint and respectfully excuse themselves. The others – too many for Tony’s taste – hang on a bit longer, trying to get one last picture, one last comment. 

“Mr. Stark,” an all too familiar voice of one of the hangers-on pipes up. It’s some lady from Variety – or maybe it’s Rolling Stone? – who usually paints Tony in a very generous light, but who he couldn’t care less about right now. “Some of your critics have pointed out that you being Iron Man puts your daughter in danger by association, and that people might attempt to harm her in order to get to you. Do you have any comments on that?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have given Chiara his sunglasses, because without them, there’s no hiding the way that Tony’s eyes narrow at the group of reporters, as if he’s challenging them all with his answer. He’s officially done playing the game for the night.

“Yeah, actually,” Tony replies. “I would tell anyone who wants to hurt Chiara the same thing I’m politely trying to tell all of you – stay the hell away from my daughter.” 

III.

“Sir?” If artificial intelligence can sound concerned, then that’s definitely the adjective that describes JARVIS right now. “Sir, there appears to be a situation –”

Tony can’t help but scoff before JARVIS even finishes his sentence. 

“Yeah, J,” he snarks. “There’s sort of a situation everywhere at the moment.” 

Which is an understatement, actually. There are aliens invading New York City. There are screaming people running every which way. There are buildings being demolished and cars being crushed. And the sound of it all. Good Lord. It’s like a symphony of chaos and destruction that’s underscored by the stench of smoke. So, yeah – there is very much a situation. 

“ – with Chiara,” the AI finishes. 

Tony stops his suit mid-flight so that he comes to rest at a hovering position where he’s at least upright and can focus. If he were in a cartoon, this would be the part with the sound effects of screeching tires or a record scratch as he stops short. 

“What do you mean there’s a situation with Chiara?” he demands. 

A map immediately presents itself on the heads up display in his helmet. JARVIS, bless him, has even taken the liberty of marking Tony’s current location and highlighting a route that leads across town. Tony doesn’t even wait for an explanation; he shoots off in the direction of his daughter. 

“Where the hell is Stark going?” someone demands through the comms. 

“Family emergency,” he snaps before turning his attention back to JARVIS. “What’s the situation? What the hell is wrong with my kid?” 

JARVIS wastes no time trying to sugarcoat it. “Her class was on their way to a field trip at the Hayden Observatory when traffic started to intensify with people attempting to flee the city. The school bus has crashed, and everyone appears to be trapped inside.” 

“Shit!” Tony yells. “Fuck!” He wants to hit something. He wants to fly faster. None of those things are currently options. 

The most he can achieve is a vague numbness. In most of his body, at least; his heart is slamming against the housing of his Arc Reactor so hard it feels like it could leave bruises. And his mind is on fire, running a million miles a minute as a hundred horrible scenarios flash before his mind’s eye. He’s only held together by one thought, the repetitive mantra of Chiara, Chiara, Chiara –  

Tony comes back to himself in the middle of righting the toppled bus. There are crumpled cars and snapped guardrails, but all he can focus on is the cacophony of screams coming from inside the bus as he pushes it rightside up. And, okay, if Tony was ten-years-old and saw a flying metal man with an angry looking mask peering into the windows and saying the name of one of his classmates over and over again, he would probably also be terrified. Rightfully so. 

To be fair, though, Tony doesn’t actually remember finding Chiara. He doesn’t remember locating his unconscious daughter slumped against one of her classmates near the middle of the bus as he helps extract the teachers and the kids from the wreck. Doesn’t remember flying with her to the nearest hospital, either, and taking her to the ER for her broken arm. All he can remember, all he can really think, is that this is his fault, because he’s the parent here, and he transferred her from her school in California to this fancy private one in New York so he could work from Stark Tower – 

“JARVIS?” Tony says as he exits the hospital and takes off, ready to launch himself back into the fray with the people who keep trying to yell questions at him through the comms. “When this is over, withdraw Chiara from her school. From now on, I want the kid to have a private tutor, and there will be no field trips unless I’m available to go.” 

“Yes, sir. I’m on it.” 

IV.

Who knew that the most terrifying words you can hear as a parent are “Dad . . . I screwed up”? Because Tony sure as hell didn’t. 

No one taught him how to be a father. And for the first five – no, closer to six – years of Chiara’s life, he was a pretty shitty one, looking back. He still doesn’t know what he’s doing half the time. Most days he just tries to roll with the punches. 

But this isn’t even a punch. This is a straight up knife to the kidney. Because this means that Tony still isn’t doing a good job.

Dad . . . I screwed up, Chiara had admitted breathlessly one night over dinner after an innocent question from Pepper about how her day went. Then she burst into tears and told Tony the weirdest story he’d ever heard, involving teenage angst, a lonely birthday, and a wish made on a shooting star, of all things.

I know it’s not your fault and that you were on a mission, but I was so mad that I was spending my birthday alone because it reminded me of the one when I was six where you were gone, and I know it’s not true, but I started thinking that no one cares about me, and when a shooting star went overhead I offhandedly thought about making a wish and whispered that I want to be important, and now all this freaky stuff has been happening with shadows, and I think I’ve somehow given myself terrifying magic powers, and I don’t know what to do, because I’m scared, and I need you to fix it, Dad, please fix it, please fix ME – 

All said in one rushed admission by a kid who looks like she wants to barf, each word more confusing than the last. Words that should probably upset him due to the deeper implications behind some of them, but that he can’t bring himself to be mad about. No one could possibly be more upset with Chiara than she currently is with herself, even though the kid has gone and accidentally given herself magic powers. True Stark luck, right there. 

The problem is that Tony can’t fix it. For all the tests that he and Bruce have run, the best they can figure is that magic is somehow involved. A theory that Thor supports, if that means anything. Tony won’t discount it just yet, because stranger things have happened – fortunately or otherwise. 

Who would have thought that the one problem that Tony Stark can’t fix would involve his own daughter? (Monica, probably, which was why she left the second Chiara was born and gave him full custody on the way out, but that’s a different issue, and he doesn’t really have the time to dwell on that right now.) 

“You know,” Pepper says one night while they lie in bed. “The worst part is that Chiara has never gotten in trouble. She’s not a problem child. This is the first time she’s ever made a mistake, and . . .” 

And it’s life altering, probably irreversible, she doesn’t add, though they’re both thinking it.

Life ruining, if you ask Chiara. She’s so upset about what she’s done that sometimes she bursts into tears seemingly at random. Some days she won’t come out of her room, saying through the closed door that she’s unsafe to be around because her powers are “villain coded.” What an adjective. And from the last person on earth that anyone would consider to be a villain.

“I’ve fucked everything up, just like I always do!” She keeps insisting. It’s always said with such force, too, because she wholeheartedly believes it and seems to be trying to convince everyone else of this supposed truth.

So, no – Tony can’t fix this. He can’t undo what Chiara has done to herself. But he can relate, on some level. He thinks, anyway. After all, he once made a mistake that landed him with a car battery in his chest, which also felt like the end of the world. 

There’s no fixing the problem, but maybe he can help.

Chiara’s eyes are red from crying when Tony comes to lead her to his lab. They stay hazy and unfocused until the second she finally notices the mannequin that Tony has set up.

More specifically, a mannequin with a suit on it. Not like Tony’s Iron Man suits. (Chiara would probably never forgive him if he shoved her into one of those tin cans, because even he can admit that seems like the ultimate helicopter parent move.) It’s the same fabric he uses for Cap, Nat, and Clint’s suits, but purple – Chiara’s favorite color – and gray. He’s made a domino mask, too, although that’s less to protect her identity and more for the AI Tony has programmed specifically for this suit so that Chiara can be watched over and protected. 

“You like it?” Tony asks, feeling a bit like he’s trying to diffuse a bomb. No – that would be easier than trying to gauge how Chiara might react, actually.   

Hesitantly, Chiara approaches the mannequin. It’s impossible to miss the slight tremble in her hand as she reaches up to rub the suit’s fabric between her fingers with curiosity. She glances back at Tony, an eyebrow raised in question. 

“Is it –” she swallows thickly. “Is this for me?” 

“Sure is.” 

There’s a beat of silence where Chiara does nothing but stare at the suit. Tony has almost decided that she hates it when the teenager pipes up again. 

“But . . . why?” she asks. “You would let me go out there and stop villains?” 

Everything happens for a reason, Monica had once said offhandedly back when she and Tony were secretly dating. At the time, she had really seemed to believe that sentiment. She probably believed it a little less after Tony accidentally knocked her up, but for some reason, that stupid little saying always stuck with Tony. 

He’s seen and experienced things he can barely begin to comprehend these past few years. And maybe, just maybe, they have happened for a reason. Believing that there’s a reason for Chiara accidentally giving herself powers is just about the only way Tony can rationalize the whole thing without feeling like he’s going insane. 

“Because it’s not about the gifts you have,” he replies. “It’s about what you do with them. That’s what matters, Ari.” 

Another quiet moment. When Chiara finally turns to face him, she’s crying again. Her shoulders shudder as she draws in a deep breath. “You really believe that?” 

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he comes to stand beside Chiara, and places his hands on her shoulders. He can’t lie to her like this, but he also isn’t about to tell her that part of him is scared out of his mind over this whole thing.

Everything happens for a reason, Monica had once said. Towards the end, Tony had hated every word that came out of her mouth. Now, though, those words are like a lifeline. One that he can throw out to Chiara. 

“I believe in you,” he tells her. 

V.

For the record, Tony is well aware of the fact that this is ethically questionable. And/or morally dubious. Maybe some other specific adjective that Monica used to throw at him when he came up with a (slightly impulsive) plan that only he could really see the brilliance of. 

But if Tony wants to diffuse this whole thing with the Rouges, then he’s got to take Chiara with him to Germany. And, hey – he’s also taking that Spider-Kid from Queens, so it’s not like Chiara will be the only teenager there . . . Which doesn’t really make the situation any better whatsoever, since that just means Tony is putting two kids in danger instead of one . . .

No – he needs them both if this plan is going to work. Peter is a powerful and surprising addition to his side that will take Cap and the others by surprise if worse comes to worst. And Chiara . . . Well, the kid is powerful, which is useful, obviously. But Tony also knows that the other Avengers won’t be willing to hurt her. She’s young, she’s got a small build. She’s basically everyone’s daughter or younger sister figure at this point. They’d all rather stand down than accidentally hurt her. Tony feels confident about that part of the equation.

Right up until the second that he doesn’t. Because who the hell is this new guy who can shrink down and disappear, or make himself into some sort of Goliath in the blink of an eye? He’s not pulling his punches at all. Doesn’t he know he’s fighting two kids?!

“You’re done,” Tony is telling Peter while the teenager protests in between gasps from where he’s lying on the ground. “You’re through.” He tilts his head back to where he knows Chiara is standing a few feet away, watching the scene with interest. “Chiara?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay with Peter,” Tony commands. “And stay out of the way.” 

Chiara is by his side in an instant, balking at her father from beneath her domino mask. “You’re benching me?!”

“Yup.” The faceplate of Tony’s armor clicks shut with a satisfying snap that separates the two of them. “Cap’s team isn’t playing nice anymore. This is now a kid free zone. Capiche?” 

“But I –”

“Stay with Peter,” Tony repeats. Then, as an afterthought he knows will work, “Or else you’re grounded and I’ll take your suit.” 

Chiara’s mouth immediately snaps shut. Even with the domino mask, it’s obvious that she’s glaring at him when she offers a small nod. 

Got her. That one always works. 

For everything that Chiara is – or that the press makes her out to be – she at least has good manners. Which means that she has the decency to wait before Tony has flown off to rejoin the fight before she huffs an annoyed sigh and plops down beside Peter on the pavement. 

“Grounded?” The boy from Queens asks. He’s got his mask about three fourths of the way off, so Chiara can clearly see his face, can see the confused look that he’s giving her as he sizes her up. Something like understanding dawns on him. “Oh, shit! You’re Eclipse. You’re –”

“Yeah,” Chiara cuts him off. “That’s me.” She takes off her own mask and frowns at the other teenager. “Being a nepo-baby doesn’t keep a girl from being benched, though.” 

Peter lets out a breathy sounding laugh as he pushes himself up onto his elbows. 

“Well,” he says with a smile. “Welcome to the bench with the rest of us common folk, Miss Stark.”

+1

“Got a family?” It’s just small talk. Just a way to pass the time while getting to know his fellow captive a little better.

Yinsen brightens a little, which wasn’t really what Tony was expecting. 

“Yes.” He smiles thoughtfully and says determinedly, “And I will see them again when I leave here.” Then, he does something unexpected – he turns the question back around on Tony. “And you, Stark?” 

No, nothing, is on the tip of Tony’s tongue. But then – oh shit! He chokes on it, hesitates as he tries to figure out how to answer.

Shit, shit, shit . . . He forgot about Chiara. Completely, totally forgot about his own daughter. He hasn’t thought of her since the morning he left the States, when he paid her the obligatory visit during breakfast to tell her that he would be gone for a few days, but that they could have dinner together when he got back. He hasn’t thought of her, or the way she visibly brightened with excitement at the prospect of getting to do something together, which she always treats with the same unwavering levels of enthusiasm no matter how sparse or short those rare times are. 

What kind of father forgets about his own daughter? He berates himself internally.

Yinsen must take his hesitancy as something else. From behind his glasses, the observant eyes pierce into Tony’s psyche. 

“So you’re a man who has everything . . . and nothing,” he notes. 

Tony can’t bring himself to correct him. Because Yinsen is actually right. But Tony especially can’t find it in himself as they grow closer, as Yinsen casually drops facts and stories about his family. These people who Tony has never met are spoken of with such reverence that they become real in his mind, and the love that Yinsen displays for them is so powerful that it fuels the doctor’s determination through every new step of their project in a way that most people can only get from prescriptions. That’s a good father.

Before all of this – the explosion, the cave, all of it – Tony had genuinely believed that he was a good father. His theory had been that he couldn’t mess up Chiara the way that Howard messed him up if he only spent time with her under the best possible circumstances. Structured, carefully planned interactions set up precisely in a way that ensured only good childhood memories. Dinner together once a week. Breakfast every now and then, if Tony is awake and not hungover from some party the night before. Renting out the entirety of Disneyland for the kid’s birthday so that she can hang out with all her favorite princesses and feel like the center of the universe for the day. 

Center of the universe. And yet, Tony didn’t spare a single thought for her until recently. Chiara hasn’t been the Sun, with everything revolving around her. This whole time, she’s been more like Pluto – on the periphery, only important when someone reminds you that it’s there. 

There are protocols in place back home, Tony vaguely remembers. If anything happens to him – which it now has – then the two people he trusts most in the world are supposed to take care of Chiara. No one ever thought it would come to that. At least, not like this. They all probably thought Tony would meet his end drunkenly drowning in a pool at a party, or wrapped around a telephone pole on his way home from one. 

He does start to wonder how that’s going. Late at night, lying on the canvas cot and staring at the ceiling through the faint glow of the Arc Reactor in his chest, Tony tries to picture how Happy and Pepper might be handling the situation.

No, not the situation. She’s a kid. The correct way to phrase the question is: how are they handling taking care of Chiara? Has she even noticed that Tony is gone? With their sparse, facilitated interactions, he couldn’t really blame her if she continued going about her life, never noticing that Tony had suddenly disappeared from it. He probably deserves that. After all, he forgot about her until Yinsen asked if he had a family.

The reverence, the devotion that Yinsen speaks of his family with borders on religious. Tony doesn’t believe in God; he believes in science. Besides the occasional wedding or funeral, the most recent time that Tony stepped foot in a church was with Monica – righteous Monica, so full of Catholic guilt – after she insisted on going to one to ask for forgiveness when she realized that Tony had gotten her pregnant. Between all her crying and praying while they sat in a pew, Tony had zoned out, had stared at the stained glass windows, trying to mentally calculate how much solder would be needed to hold all those pieces together. The memory makes him wince now; he definitely wasn’t boyfriend of the year. And he sure as hell hasn’t been father of the year.  

Monica had believed in lots of things – God, that everything happens for a reason, that the Diamondbacks were the greatest baseball team. Tony believes in very little by comparison. 

Now, though, staring at the roof of the cave, he bargains with whatever might be out there, even if he’s just talking to himself. Hell, Tony Stark and his ego might be harder to strike a deal with than any higher power that may or may not exist. 

If I get out of here, I’ll do so much better, he promises the ceiling of the cave. I can’t be Yinsen, but I can be better than I have been. If I get back home, I’ll be so much better than Howard was. If I have another chance, Chiara will have such a good childhood – 

And, for what it’s worth, he intends to keep those promises, to the best of his ability. 

He just has to get out of here first.  

Help girl I'm thinking about the au where Chiara gets raised by her dad instead of her mom

[winepresswrath]

Every character on this show struggles with feeling unlovable because they're somehow broken or dirty or just put together wrong but for my money the real winners in this terrible competition are Claudia and Armand. There are, I think, a lot of echos between them especially in showverse- parental abandonment, abuse, being rescued and remade by vampires. Armand was one year older than Claudia when a vampire found him in a terrible situation and brought him home. So naturally just as Claudia finds someone she thinks could really love and know all of her Armand is going to kill her in the desperate hope of keeping someone who might love and know all of him.

[knifekris]

every day i struggle to make choices

[chilewithcarnage]

I didnt know old men yapping about war stories was a real thing I thought that was just in cartoons

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 5!!!

[averlym]

whshdfhfjf.,,,

[johnslittlespoon]

also my inbox is fr a warzone rn i'm SO behind on like ~50 asks </3 itching to get back, just been trying to focus on actual fic writing when i get in a rare productive swing instead of hrs of drabbling and brainrot lmfaooo but i'll clear up a whole evening eventually to sit down and go thru a ton of them!

[quarklynx]

I read 500 pages today. Five hundred.

What is wrong with me, why do I do this. Why can't I just enjoy books at a normal pace?

[loumauve]

I snapped today at work, and by snapped I mean I politely commented on a help desk ticket by summing up an mess of an (type of) issue that's come up for at least the fourth time in the 2+ months I've been managing user accounts, and asked the person responsible to fix it (himself for once) because last time I fixed his mess-up it took me two whole days to work out the details with at least four other colleagues from different departments and I really don't want to do it again. there's other shit that needs doing, I've been working 10+ hour days for most of this week already, so I need to cut down not add on more.

(good thing tho - at least we managed to fix the issue where the dataset of a newer employee got mixed up with another one of the same name and therefore wasn't able to apply for any of the access/accounts she needed. technically not entirely my area but it does impact us not being allowed to create an account for her so I figured I might as well track that issue down. took three days and at least three other people, but hey - it should all work out now. yay for that)

[ofcowardiceandkings]

the sinus headaches are already not great but Extra Shit has been added to the pile and im just sat on that right now trying to figure out what the fuck to do

[camgoloud]

i simply feel that if you burn shit in your roommate’s skillet you should then feel the obligation to be the one who scrapes it out and cleans up

[victory-cookies]

I think I may have fucked up with my degree timeline a bit.

[imflyingfish]

.t

[undyinglantern]

when you’re so shit at Spanish that it literally doesn’t even occur to you how to pronounce this word until looking at the wiki 👍🏼

[jadeyharls]

hi

[todayisafridaynight]

why does the new tumblr notif ui got balls