#wix fanfic

[onepawproductions]

Working on my website, and damn if there isn't a good audio player, through Wix hosting.

Luckily, I have access to the custom app creator, and with a little HTML5, JavaScript, and CSS, I should be able to cobble up an audio player that saves your place, and can have a customizable seek option.

Now how to integrate it with accounts, and CMS?

[chunkymilk96]

Imagine two wix raised in the Wizarding World are talking about how they keep their snitch and A Muggleborn  hears them and is absolutely horrified because they would think they’re talking about a person

Wix 1:yeah I just make sure the time I snitch down so it can’t get out.

Wix 2: that’s a good plan I keep mine in my trunk but it keeps getting out and then I have to go chasing after it.

Wix 3(silently to themselves): omg what!?!?!

[tavyliasin]

Writer Interview Tag

I was tagged by @redroomroaving and once I'd finished feeling about a hundred emotions from reading I managed to follow it up.

I definitely got a little personal as well, and I know I’m prone to rambling so I’ll pop the questions and answers below the cut. A mild CW for discussion of physical pain and some very very light mentions of mental health. Tagging @morb-untamed @sweetmage @dmbakura @hydropyro @ineadhyn @nicocoer @wixed to do this if you would like to, but there is absolutely no pressure to talk about yourselves or in any personal detail. And anyone else reading this who I missed tagging (I forget names and tags so often, forgive me) please feel free to use me as your tag-in and let me know so I can read your answers too.

When did you start writing?

I have no idea, truly. Stories and reading were a big part of my life since before I could read, and as soon as I could read independently I devoured books and imagined stories in quiet moments. There are a few things I’ve worked on under another name, another identity, but no massive published works. A couple of unfinished SFW fanfics, and some larger original projects that remain on hiatus. As for writing smut and spice and taking fanfic more seriously? That all started in September 2023, and has just grown from there. I was hesitant at first, and you’ll see that in my early author notes, but from there I feel I’ve truly grown in my style and skill, as well as my creativity and ability to delve into character details and kink alike.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Since writing more, I’ve become a terrible reader. I can’t really focus on it for long because my brain goes into ADHD rebellion and says “no, no, we don’t want to read story we want to create story” which is endlessly frustrating when I have stacks of unread books and a ton of fics earmarked by very talented authors. I will say there is a particular thing many may notice in my works – when writing, I very rarely refer to genitalia in direct terms. It’s just a personal preference when writing, you won’t find the word “cock” in any of my works, but contrary to how it might sound I have absolutely no issue with reading it in the works of others. I am an odd creature, I freely admit that. So…yes, there are themes, pairings, styles, and vocabulary features that I enjoy reading but do not write myself.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I don’t hear comparisons really, and I don’t aim to emulate anyone either, though I will admit I try to keep just a few little moments of humour or sly winks to the audience in similar ways to Terry Pratchett and Douglas Adams. Just those quick lines or cutaways that for a moment join reader and author in a little shared joke.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I can only really write comfortably in one place, at my PC. I have 3 screens set up around my seat, which is actually the end seat of a reclining sofa, so I have a heated pad behind my back to reduce pain. I have a mini fridge with drinks on the table beside me with the side screen that has Discord on it at all times, my larger screen (the TV) sometimes has character images for reference or notes or just Spotify up so I can swap songs and playlists quickly. The last screen is in front of me on a table that goes over my footrest, and my keyboard is on a lap desk over my legs. 

I’ll almost always have my headphones on, and a small fan when it gets too warm. Sometimes I do end up a little chaotic with snacks in reach and meds also on the table so I don’t have to have anyone fetch them for me.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

It can’t be controlled. The muse is as fickle as it is demanding, when it’s there it wants everything all at once, and when it’s gone?... It leaves a devastating emptiness that honestly I struggle with at times. Even right now, tonight I planned to write, but when I finally got the free time and got set up…nothing feels appealing to try. So I’m doing this instead, and not forcing it. 

There are things I try at times, and things I recommend, too. First? Before you start writing, tend to your basic needs. Do you need a drink? Food? Relevant medication? A nap? A talk with a friend? A bit of fresh air or physical movement? If one of these needs hasn’t been met, it’ll likely soon become an obstacle to your writing. I like to have a drink and snack ready and with me when I start so it’s there as and when I might need it, and I do rely on caffeine like a stereotypically unmedicated ADHD author…

Second, set the mood. It can help for some people to have this routine, to get their playlist going, to be in the right place, to have the things that set a whole zone and bubble. For a while, I had a specific hat I would wear when writing for another project. I could tell myself “I am putting the hat on now, so I will focus and do this thing” and in some way it trained me to write more. I know others who have done things like always listening to a specific genre of music to write, so now when they hear that genre they get the urge to write. Third is take a shower. Nothing gives me more ideas than a good shower, and I even bought a waterproof notepad and pencil set so I can make those notes whilst in there and not fret about forgetting an idea. Other than that, I recommend going back to the thing that inspired you to write. Play the game or watch scenes with the characters you want to write about, find their voices and mindsets. You can also close your eyes and imagine the scene like a play – put the characters on your stage at the start of the scene and watch what they do in the scenario. Let them show you how they react. Some people also do well to write out a plan or bulletpoints, but I find personally this can bite me in the ass because the process of writing can often stray from my original plan. Which isn’t a bad thing, but it can feel frustrating that I didn’t use ideas that I was initially passionate about.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Ah here it is. Whilst I could go quite simply with the kinks that I keep utilising that don’t surprise me in the slightest – I know well that I enjoy writing a spicy shifting of power balance between strong-minded characters, as well as a lot of BDSM kink – there are deeper parts to this. Identity. That’s a theme that keeps rearing its head beneath a lot of works, and you’ll find it most noticeable in how I write both Haarlep and He Who Was, but it tends to worm its way into other things too. It…did not surprise me, though, because it’s something I have struggled with over this past year within myself.

I created this name, this identity, as a way to be comfortable in sharing kink fiction and spicy works without it being easily identifiable under my actual name. I still don’t like to be too personal, or share my face or real name under this one, because I would rather keep a few close friends and family out of sight of my fandom thirsting. I’m certain a lot of us are the same – it isn’t really about shame but knowing that I, and they, would likely not be comfortable discussing this level of subject matter. I’ve relaxed a little over time, and have no doubt that a few may have worked out who I am and simply kept it quiet which I appreciate endlessly, just as I appreciate that those who do know both of my identities have never shared that information or made it public. I’m happy to meet people in person, just not to have my self online shared with my other self, as I’m sure you can understand. Anyway, I digress…

Something that the keen-eyed accomplice might have noticed in me is a shift in my speech. I used a few more mannerisms and speech patterns, particularly terms of endearment, under this name when I began. It was a way to separate the self, as well as to engage with a different audience in a different way. I explained it to the few who knew both early on as “same person, different font”, because I don’t change who I am just a few parts of how I speak or interact…but I’ve dropped a lot of the endearments now. Partly because there were more than a few who expressed they were uncomfortable with this in conversation – which I fully respect and understand – so it was easier to just drop them entirely rather than double checking or switching vocabulary between people and servers. But it has also fallen away a little as I have become more comfortable with both sides of myself, allowing them to integrate again more, and I owe a good amount of that to being able to meet fandom friends in person and find that they didn’t turn away from knowing all of me and instead have become even better friends. 

So…yes, the theme of names and identity keeps popping up. The power of names, the importance of identity, how one can hold on to one’s sense of self when it feels as if it is wavering, or when a role must be played. It’s little wonder I was so strongly drawn to so many favourites. Another recurring theme, of course, is pain. Physical. Whilst this is often in the form of kink and pain play, I’ve written a few pieces where it has been a point that is not about the sexual and positive side. I am in pain. 24/7. Without end. It will not get better. It has been this way for over 10 years. The level of the pain is “I cannot walk more than 10 metres before it is too much”, and “I have to drastically reduce and monitor my physical activity to prevent pain getting worse”, so I feel very intimately familiar with pain. You’ll find it in my writing as visceral and detailed descriptions of the sensations, because I’ve felt every one of them and might just be feeling them in that moment as I write. 

I’m going to keep trying to write short comfort pieces, too. Because as I once wrote as a dialogue line for Halsin, when Tav asked how he always seemed to know the right thing to say:  

“Sometimes we say the things we need to hear the most.” 

What is your reason for writing?

Every reason ever. There’s…not a lot I can do in this body. So many hopes and dreams and even careers I’ve had to leave behind, through the struggles of mental and physical health. Whilst the former is far better, the latter is the issue… But writing is something I can do with little physical effort. If I’m in pain, I can take my medication and absorb into fiction. 

I started writing smut as a challenge, but also as a way to tell a story I was becoming rather attached to. My main longfic was one born from playing the game, and wondering about telling the story between the lines, giving reason to the choice the player character was making under my instruction. Since then, it has grown to be so much more.

I’d love to sit here and tell you “I only write for myself, I don’t need external validation” but that…would be a half-truth at best. I write because I love sharing these stories, I love that they can reach out and touch hearts and minds in ways I might never know, but I adore when someone does send back their echo across the vast void between us to say “I enjoyed this” or “this story made me feel something”. That’s…it’s everything to know I have some value. Which sounds a lot like I’m pinning my self-worth on feedback or kudos, and whilst I can’t deny that’s a hard habit to break, I do know it isn’t everything. I just want it to still be something. To know I can do more than just…exist. 

Truly if you were to ask me what I feel the purpose is to my entire life, it would be “to leave each corner of the world I touch a little brighter and better than it was before I got there”, and whilst I know that’s impossible to do all the time I still want to try. And writing? Sharing stories? That’s leaving a positive mark, giving someone enjoyment in their day – yes, even sexually, with the kinky and sexy writing. That is still a positive to someone’s day, an indulgence, something that lifts them and certainly nothing to be ashamed of.

If I can do more than that with emotional writing, with comfort pieces, with cathartic moments and with stories that have more meaning behind the words…all the better.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

The best are the ones that pull out favourite lines or moments, but honestly every single comment means the world to me. An incoherent keysmash, a simple “I loved this”, even those are such a boost particularly on a hard day. 

Readers, please know how much it helps. Even a click on the kudos as an anonymous guest, it’s…it lets us know we aren’t just shouting into the void. It tells us those Hits are not people just opening up the fic then closing it because they hated it. It means the whole world to know we’ve done something that you enjoyed, in whatever way that was.

I’ll also say that some of the ones that have meant the most and have stuck with me are comments on the more personal pieces, like with The Love of Loviatar – the Abdirak x Reader fic where I play a little with worlds colliding to allow a reader character who experiences chronic pain (remarkably similar to my own, don’t think about that too hard) to have that moment with Abdirak who validates and appreciates them exactly how they are. Gentle care mixed with BDSM, trading the bad pain for the good pain, the pain that is welcome and has purpose, a little fantasy of enjoying what the body can do rather than being trapped by what it cannot… Every time I get a comment there, I damn near cry. Or just openly cry. They mean so much. I know how much Abdirak can mean to us, and I am so glad I can reach you all. 

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I…well… To be thought of at all is an honour. I’m shocked any time I encounter someone who has read my works, despite logically knowing I have a good number of readers from the numbers alone. I just…don’t look at those numbers often, it’s not good for me. 

I’d like readers to know I care about them. Every last one. To know I would love to tell all the stories they want to read, and that I fully welcome their messages, comments, and even friendship when we share social spaces. There’s something special about the connections we can make in unexpected places, and I’m just delighted to be here sharing stories with you all. 

I don’t need high respect, endless adoration, or some kind of pedestal. I’m a human, unfortunately – squishy and fallible and flawed and suffering and there is still beauty and worth to me even when I don’t see it myself. Just saying that last part louder for everyone else who has loud negative thoughts of themselves. It’s ok for you to see my flaws, and it’s ok for us all to have love for one another despite those flaws. Love in the platonic sense, of course – there are levels of connections we make with people from a distant echo of a brief exchange of words to the direct warmth of a friendship. It’s as important to not underestimate the value as it is important to not overestimate our closeness to people we don’t truly know.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I am beginning to believe it is the wild ideas I have for crackship pairings and turning them into something serious and meaningful. I love taking an unlikely coupling then finding what makes them actually genuinely work. 

I’m also getting quite confident in sensual writing as well as kink, in the particular style that I have for it. I know well that it isn’t to everyone’s tastes, but those who do enjoy my style and method will always have something in the buffet of fic to fill their plate.

I really hope to transfer this to my original work when I get it finished, as I feel like just maybe I might have a niche of style that isn’t as often seen in published works. Then again, I’m not exactly devouring raunchy original fiction so perhaps I’m entirely mistaken and would get ripped to shreds by critics of the genre. Who knows? But I will try to get published when it’s done. I hope a few of you might even read it someday.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

Ahh definitely both. I have written characters and pairings I’m not personally into that much, though sometimes (Yurgir) I have found myself enjoying the character after writing with them. It’s a fun little quirk, I start writing something thinking “am I into this?” and realise later “oops new kink acquired” or “ahh ok I see why people like [character] so much now.” 

I do really love writing requests or rare pairings/characters that readers haven’t seen before or are excited to see more of. I hope to keep doing a mix of that and the characters/pairings that I love most myself. If there’s something you’d like to see, I’m more than happy to take suggestions – there are a few kinks, characters, and tropes that I have a hard “nope” line on (not kink shaming, just personal comfort levels – I love that you can enjoy those things elsewhere I am just not the chef to cook that dish for you) but otherwise I love wild ideas and writing something that someone explicitly wants to read~

How do you feel about your own writing?

I really struggle with this one, but I think many of us do. I go from feeling confident that people enjoy what I’ve written and that I have this skill to bring worlds and characters to life with mere words on a page, yet other times? I will freely admit some works of mine take longer because I just hit this point where I just cannot tell if it’s any good. I know intellectually that I have the same style, tropes, stories, kinks that people like and enjoy, but as I’m sat there staring at it I’m questioning everything because I’m just not feeling it. That seems pretty natural, I think, that we are the worst critics of our own works because we’ve read them so many times or thought far too hard about every word and line… But I tend to solve this with an external view. Beta Readers have saved works from near extinction by checking it over, telling me what does need fixing, and reminding me that actually the rest of it is just fine I’m simply overthinking it all because my mind is struggling with something else like fatigue or pain or just a low kind of day.

So… Overall, writing has been a new life for me. Particularly in this last year, trying something new – expanding into NSFW fanfic has found me countless new connections, friends, experiences I wouldn’t have had otherwise and a real feeling of accomplishment and validation that just wasn’t happening in WIPs that were taking too long and getting no feedback at all. 

Writing isn’t just something I do, it’s inextricably a part of who I am, and in its own way it continues to shape exactly what “who I am” can mean.

And I am grateful to every single one of you who has shared this journey with me so far. I cannot wait to see how far we can go together~

[masha-nikita]

Please let us know if/when you make an ao3! I think it’s a great idea and I’d love to subscribe asap 💖

Oh my dear but it's going to be just an experiment to see if Tumblr blocks AO3 as it does to my Wix site. I am going to move one or two of my NSFW art over there, like this one-

Of course it's a censored version. I enjoy doing stylized censorship nowadays as much as drawing the picture itself. What the hell has Tumblr done to me LMAO.

And why am I shipping Monty x Rommel so hard? SMH.

I know AO3 is mainly for writers; it is quite lovely that it chooses tags and warnings over censorship as its approach. Too bad that I am not really a fanfic writer :(

[imagineitdearies]

Hey, I was wondering if you'd be ok with me referencing your canon in my fic? It won't be anything huge just sort of a nod to PS. I'm doing a pretadpole Durgetash fic and want a masquerade/ball scene, and I think one of Cazador's Winter balls would be a thing Durge and Gortash hit up once.

If it's not ok, that's totally fine. I was just gonna do a "There's a pale elf talking with a young shy looking Drow" or something to that effect, nothing overt or detailed.

Anyway. I love PS and can't wait for the next chapter!

Hey wixed!

This would totally be fine, honestly very cute! If you used Tyrus's name + description, I'd ask that the fic gets linked/referenced in notes, but when it's this vague that is entirely optional in my opinion.

Good luck with your fic!!

This does bring up a separate point for anyone following on me here, which I will probably re-articulate in my final notes after the epilogue: I know a few people have expressed interest in writing fanfic of this fanfic (fanception!), and once Perfect Slaughter is finished on my end I'm entirely good with that. I would just ask that you include a link to the fic if it's on Tumblr and/or use the 'inspired by' feature on ao3!

Thanks all 🩵

[themculibrary]

Teen And Up Rated Fics (2) Masterlist

part one

5 times it wasn’t a hug and the 1 time it was - parkrstark T, 31k

Summary: 5 times it wasn’t a hug and the one time it was.

Or…

The one where Tony has a habit of not-really-but-kinda-sorta hugging Peter and finally gets it right when it matters the most.

All The Leaves Are Brown (And the sky is gray) - AvocadoLove steve/bucky, pepper/tony T, 17k

Summary: The Winter Soldier’s mission is nearly complete. Howard and Maria Stark are dead, leaving him to dispatch their four-year-old child. One quick twist of the neck is all it will take, but the Soldier finds he cannot do it.

So instead of killing Tony Stark, the Winter Soldier takes him away to raise as his own.

A Parent Apparent (ao3) - happyaspie pepper/tony T, 528k

Summary: In which the author indulges herself in some shameless Irondad/Spiderson with fluff, angst and everything in between because she needs more of that in her life.

OR

Just another one of those, oh so overdone, fanfics where Tony and Peter’s relationship grows into more of a father/son relationship after an accident involving Aunt May (who lives)

Changing Fate (ao3) - Wix bucky/tony, loki/tony T, 27k

Summary: Tony dies in Siberia under the hands of Captain America, but fate doesn’t leave it there. He opens his eyes several years earlier amidst the threat of Loki’s invasion and the first assembling of the ‘Avengers’. Tony may not understand why he got this second chance, but he’s going to do better with it - and he’s decided that he’s going to share it. With a Winter Soldier who could really use a different hand than he was dealt.

Never let it be said that fate doesn’t have a sense of humor.

Clint Barton’s Super Secret Snipers’ Club (ao3) - sara_holmes clint/bucky, steve/tony T, 67k

Summary: Clint Barton’s Super Secret Snipers’ Club. (Invitation and pending mental health evaluation required.)

“When Steve brings Bucky back to the tower for the first time, Clint’s first thought is that Tony Stark’s pride and joy is quickly becoming a less of a very tall and expensive ‘fuck you’ in the faces of investors who don’t believe in self-sustaining energy, and more of a superhero rehabilitation center.”

Boyfriends, compromises and learning to like oneself.

Distracted by a Dime (ao3) - happyaspie steve/tony T, 56k

Summary: Peter Parker thinks he has everything figured out. Where he can eat, sleep and make a little bit of money. What he needs to do in order to continue attending Midtown High and being Queen’s friendly neighborhood Spider-man. How to keep his entire situation under wraps and most importantly, who he can trust.

Then, along comes Tony Stark with an offer he can’t refuse. The plan is to remain professional, to not get too close to the Stark-Rogers’ family. Not getting comfortable means not slipping up and saying anything that he can’t take back.

…but for Peter- things rarely go as planned…

Detonation Imminent (ao3) - KairosImprimatur pepper/tony, clint/natasha T, 61k

Summary: Peter and Rocket decide it’s a good idea to snoop around Stark Tower before introducing themselves. Clearly there’s no way this could go awry.

Endgame (ao3) - YunaYamiMouto tony/stephen T, 196k

Summary: The rouge Avengers are pardoned under the influence of King T'Challa and it is up to Tony to 'welcome’ them back. But as he and his new team are at the private airport, an unexpected fight breaks loose and the fate of the whole universe is changed when a wizard places himself as Tony Stark’s protector.

It’s a Secret to Everybody (ao3) - Snapdragon_in_the_Snow pepper/tony T, 97k

Summary: “I have kids,“ Clint said. "I know dad behavior when I see it.” Tony blinked multiple consecutive times, processing the statement. “Excuse me?” “Tony,” Steve said now, “how long have you had a son? And how come we’ve never known about him?” “Yeah,” Clint spoke again, “I thought I was the only one with a secret family. Turns out you’ve had one longer than me!” ——- Peter gets to spend all summer living in Avengers Tower with Tony. When the Rogue Avengers get pardoned and come back to live at the Tower too, they’re confused as to who Peter is. However, once they see how Tony acts around Peter, that confusion goes away, as they know for certain who Peter must be - Tony’s secret son. Tony and Peter decide to make the most of the situation, and play along. They hope they can keep up the act all summer. But they soon learn that they barely have to act at all.

Language (ao3) - SailorChibi steve/tony, clint/phil T, 30k

Summary: This is how Tony fixed the team and the damage he’d done, and in the process learned how to start fixing himself. Well, maybe the latter might take a little help from Steve.

Making The Best Of It (ao3) - dentalfloss clint/phil T, 33k

Summary: “He’s not telling us everything,” Fury reached out and shut the projection off, “I’m not comfortable with this.” Coulson didn’t respond, didn’t need to. “Let Rogers know I want Barton watched; he doesn’t go anywhere alone until we understand exactly what’s going on. I’m not losing him to some egotistical mind-f***ing blade-dancer who has mentor issues and wants to take it out on our asset.”

Phil nodded efficiently. He couldn’t agree more.

maybe we can’t be okay (but maybe we’ll try anyway) (ao3) - impravidus, notapartytrick steve/bucky, pepper/tony T, 68k

Summary: The Avengers thought it would be a simple mission. Kill the giant, sixty foot worm monsters, head home and maybe take an hour long shower to get the worm guts off. But when they come across a hidden town in the depths of the forest, the last thing they’re expecting to find is a secret underground base and a fourteen year old boy sticking to the ceiling.

The team finds themselves becoming a dysfunctional family to the teen while he learns how to find a life out of captivity.

Featuring dolphins, puzzles, and frosting art.

Oh, Hey There, Mister Blue (ao3) - iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid T, 75k

Summary: There are certain things one learns to expect when dealing with the Mad Titan. Ending up on an unfamiliar ship surrounded by a bunch of aliens is one thing. Loki can handle that.

Ending up on an unfamiliar ship surrounded by a bunch of aliens who are actually on his side is quite another.

Oh, My King for a Kingdom (ao3) - STARSdidathing loki/tony T, 14k

Summary: The blood and betrayal of an Afghanistan cave formed Iron Man. The blood and betrayal of a Siberian bunker formed something else.

peter’s stars (ao3) - IronPengu, parkrstark steve/tony T, 175k

Summary: Steve and Peter lose their apartment and are kicked out on the streets. Steve has to juggle between jobs to earn whatever money he can, take care of his son while resfusing to let him realize how much they’re trouble in, and keep them warm and safe on the city streets in winter.

So, he really doesn’t have time to date the billionaire that flirts with him everyday as he buys his cup of coffee. Even if he did, he can’t let himself fall for the man. Because if he knew that he lived from a backpack and showered in a public bathroom there’s no way he’d still want him…right?

The Puzzle that is Peter Parker (ao3) - Neuropsyche pepper/tony T, 279k

Summary: Peter is reeling from the after-effects of the spider bite and seeks out Tony Stark. If anyone can teach him how to be a superhero, it’s Ironman, right? Tony isn’t impressed at being stalked by an eight year old

Time After Time (ao3) - fancylances tony/stephen T, 47k

Summary: Tony Stark is unstuck in time. Stephen Strange might just be the only person in the universe qualified enough to help.

Unwanted Celebrity (ao3) - Kryptaria, zooeyscigar steve/bucky T, 72k

Summary: Fifteen years ago, a skinny kid from Brooklyn went to an arts summer camp, where he met child movie star Jimmy Barnes. Their unlikely friendship faded as the years passed. But now, a threat to Barnes’ career brings Steve back into his life, in the most unexpected of ways. Or, the one where Bucky is a smooth celebrity, right up until Steve the snarky photographer shows up, and Bucky’s whole world gets blown to pieces.

Winter Undone (ao3) - DCAngst steve/bucky T, 74k

Summary: What if, after the Endgame battle, Dr. Strange used the time stone to save Tony and undo 80 years of Hydra for Bucky? In other words, 1945 Bucky ends up in 2023 and has to come to terms with…a lot.

Z to A (ao3) - memoriaeterna wanda/vision, pepper/tony T, 88k

Summary: The moment of disorientation was nothing compared to the next thing he saw. He was standing in the midst of an airport, looking directly at a girl with the familiar red leather coat. The mutual recognition was instant. Leipzig. Or, Peter and Wanda sent back in time to stop the inevitable. Good news: they are not alone. Bad news: who and from when.

[locamotivednp]

🦉Positivity owl reporting for duty! This was sent by a friend who wants you to smile as much as your posts make them smile. Please list five things that make you unique, four things you are super passionate about and why, OR three of your favorite memories. Feel free to send the owl to those who you feel deserve to smile🦉

Hello anon! I love talking about things I’m passionate about, so!

Let’s start with the obvious: dnp. Been watching for 12 years but in the last year they’ve really gone from a casual interest to absolute brainrot levels of obsession. They truly mean so much to me but I’m preaching to the choir here so I’ll wrap it up.

Tolkiens legendarium, specifically the Silmarillion. In a lot of ways, the silm is a fanfic writers/readers dream. So much lore to dig through but also so many gaps to play with. The joke is that the silm is the “footnotes” fandom and this is what I love about it. Sons of Feanor did nothing wrong and Idril is the best character.

Stardew valley. I have 2000+ hours in the game and i own it on four platforms 🙈. Game of all time, no notes. (Abigail best wife. Harvey best husband. Argue with the wall) (special video game shoutouts to Minecraft, Skyrim and powerwash simulator)

Taskmaster. I’m now in love with many middle-aged UK female comedians. I would die for Sarah Kendall and Katie Wix and Mel and Sian…. Im caught up to season 12 but I went back and rewatched everything again to follow along with the podcast 😅

[faerie-hoard]

Actually blogging on Tumblr.com

I was trying to think about what I wanted to do for my first post, you know? I could have jumped straight into screaming at the void, post about books or rp or fanfic, and just pretended this blog was here the whole time. Or I could do an introduction post. Hello, I'm Fae, This is what I decided to do instead of ranting to my friends about things, I'm 26 going on 27 this year, etc., etc.

I hate introductions, though; I think they can be put into other things very easily, and they don't need to be their own post to reference constantly. If I wanted to do that, There's a bio right there, right?

Instead, I want to talk about the process of trying to find a good blogging spot, because it's really, Horribly corporate out there.

The thought of making this blog hit me at 2am working the night shift. I was loading up orders and boom, hey, let's start a blog! to ramble about things. Let's do book reviews. Let's review fanfiction. Let's talk about the online roleplay scene. Now, you know and I know that 2am is a terrible time to start a new project-- It's perfect for thinking it up, but the execution will always be a little messy. I'm a little messy on a good day, you know? so to avoid jumping in I went looking for resources.

You know, the sort of things that follow "Let's start a blog", which are "where do I put it?" and "how do I want it to look?" and "Is this going to cost me money at all". So I put on a youtube video, something to listen to while I worked. Something to, frankly, stop my impulses from popping my phone out on the sales floor like a cretin and trying to make a blogger account.

Have you ever looked up something innocuous, just to find yourself on The Grind side of the internet? I'm a squishy person, and I like relaxing, so I don't touch it very often. When I do run into it, it's a little bit like watching a parallel universe pop into existence fully formed. like Athena from Zeus' forehead. Maybe it was the 2am speaking, but at no point had the follow-up question "Can I make money off of this" popped into my head. In fact, when you're talking about fanfiction specifically it's dodgy to have that thought at all.

I think maybe I just got too comfy with the algorithm, honestly? Because youtube handed me so many videos, and none of them were remotely what I wanted. Just tons of advice from middle-aged men talking about blogging making you big money in almost no time at all! and...eugh?? Eugh. Nothing like fumbling for your phone in the back room because this is a 30-minute pitch for an online seminar and not actually a helpful video.

Like I said, I don't run into this side of the internet very often; I'm a proud tumblrite trash fire just like the rest of you, and I want ads on my things about as much as I want to look at ads on things I look up. Anyway, I chalked this up to the popular search being geared toward these grind-for-money, beat-capitalism-by-giving-me-money types. It sure wasn't though!

I mean, it was, but only because every single cursed thing I went to listen to was about how to make money on your blog and what things got you the most money and SEO and exclusive domains and you get the idea. Use WordPress! .org and not .com, though, so you can mess around with things and own everything yourself. Pay for hosting and a domain name. Use blogger! but only because it monetizes ads with google. Use Wix! the free version still lets you earn some money. I'm already at work! I don't need to be sold shit on the off chance my blog gets popular. Maybe one day I'll want WordPress and want a custom domain and all that, but I'm fine being a .website sort of blog.

I spent the rest of the night listening to WTNV and podfic, just to wash the taste out of my mouth, and when I woke up the next day sometime in the late afternoon I went to the source-- Reddit. And wouldn't you know it, I was getting answers, albeit still stuck in "Idk man don't you want to make money?" mode. Still, It was a relief seeing other people like me, who just had a lot to say and like to talk about it. Fellow void-screamers, if you will, and They were just as disgruntled!

This was where someone suggested Blogger as a useful tool for a free and new blog. It's in the name, right? I thought "Is it still ok to use though? will I be gently mocked for being a .blogger.com sort of blog?" (I hadn't actually gotten a lot of sleep, this is the only explanation I have for this thought). Then, on the winds of change itself, "I might as well just use tumblr if I'd go on blogger."

And... yea? Yeah, why hadn't I thought of that in the first place! It's free! it's anticapitalist! it's full of people like me that I like, and I know how to use it already! Anyway, that's how I ended up realizing I'd never considered Tumblr as a blogging site. It's probably outdated to use it like one now, but that never stopped tumblr before.

So that was my journey, with a side of salt tossed over at grindtube for making me sift through some absolute bullshit. I'm here, now, and I hope I get some enjoyment out of posting my thoughts here. At the very least I won't be ranting incoherently at my friends anymore.

probably.

[yonderghostshistories]

..... that's actually pretty good fancasting ngl!

Now I want a HFC fanfic/HFC Part 2 but featuring the girls now!

Btw, I have some other HFC fan ideas/headcannon AUs up my sleeve, so allow me to unravel them!

-Building on the meta-esque "1970s-telephone equivalent of WhatsApp-ing" idea, Carol basically has separate telephones for each of the Pythons' spouses', and Carol's contacts are: Connie (John's ex), Helen/Mrs Palin (Mike's Wife) (in the HFC universe, everyone (including Carol) calls/refers to Mike's Wife as Mrs Palin), David (Gray's partner; played by Peter Sandys-Clarke cuz Peter actually looks like David fr imo, also he'd be great as Gray's Bae!!), Maggie (Terry G.'s wife), Alison (Jonesy's wife; played by Katy Wix cuz I think she'd be great as Alison Telfer imo), and Tania (Eric's girlfriend, since the timeline in HFC is set in 1979, as Tania and Eric got married in 1981), and they all have a chat about their lives and stuff.

-John (the HFC version that is) is secretly still a bit sulky about the divorce with Connie (the HFC version), but doesn't want to admit that to everybody else......although everybody else already knows John is secretly still a bit sulky over the divorce. However, John doesn't really have the courage to, well, make up with Connie and at least try to talk to her about his feelings. On the eve before the debate, John finally has the courage to pick up the phone and actually talk to Connie about his feelings, and Connie listens to him. Although it turns out that Connie has actually been calling John before from time to time to tell him that it's ok and that they can still be friends and that he can open about anything to her, but John was being a bit sulky back then that he kinda ignored her calls, or if he did pick up the phone, he half heartedly told her that he's DEFINITELY FINE (he's not).

Anyway, once John actually picks up the phone on his own agency, he finally opens up to Connie, telling her about his hidden, deep fear about what will happen tomorrow and whether it'll go wrong or smth. He also (albeit at first begrudgingly) that he's still a bit sulky over the divorce, and that deep inside he still loves Connie. Connie, being understanding, warmly humours John that he's being a bit silly about the his fear of the debate, but then immediately after gives him solid and heartwarming advice to him, telling him that whatever happens, at least he and Mike had the courage to stand up to those religious bastards. John cheers up a little, and thanks Connie. John, albeit shyly, then asks Connie if she and Carol could come over to the BBC to support him and Mike along with the rest of the gang. Connie tells him that sure, she'll come, because she wants to be a good friend and support her ex-husband, no matter what!

The next day, whilst everyone's getting prepped up before the debate at the BBC, Mike and John finally arrived. Carol and Connie are there too, and they both give Mike and John hugs and words of encouragement to support them. Connie hugs John for a little longer, and John smiles a bit. Connie tells him "good luck", and platonically kisses him on the cheek. John, trying not to blush so much that his face becomes a tomato, tries to be his sarcastic self, but deep down, he appreciates Connie's support!

-Connie (HFC) is seen reading some psychology books. I think it kinda fits ngl!

-George Harrison (voice) cameo cuz uhh funi reference

Ok uhh that's all I got rn! Do let me know your thoughts on the ideas Commie!

Honestly, my *ONE* and *ONLY* complaint (though tbch it's more a nitpick than anything else lol) about "Holy Flying Circus" (2011) is that......I'd have LOVED to see Carol Cleveland and Connie Booth appear in the film, or at least a cameo appearance!

Idk if it's just me, but I feel like it'd been kinda funny and great if Carol (the biopic version of, that is) appeared in a scene(/s) with the Python Boys and probably being the 2nd moral compass of the gang (next to Michael) and just being absolutely jovial throughout the whole thing. Plus, it'd been extra funny if Carol had the late 1970s equivalent of WhatsApp-ing Connie (again the biopic version of Connie I mean) via telephoning her about what's been happening lately and then just having a laugh with the Boys *kinda* overreacting a tiny bit about the whole thing, but do understand why these events leading to the debate are really important for the Boys!

Again, I get the decision for why including either Carol and/or Connie would've been a bit much in a way, what with all the other characters filling space up in the film, so I get why adding the 2 other Python Girls would've overcrowded the film, which I get. But tbh, it'd been pretty cool to see (biopic) Carol and Connie fr!

Btw, I wonder which actresses would've portrayed Carol and Connie if they were to be hypothetically included in film? What do you personally think?

I’d cast Tamsin Egerton as Carol Cleveland and Billie Piper as Connie Booth!

[juuls]

Podfics, podfics, podfics...

I'm looking to do some podfics of fics that have really hit me in strong (good) ways, and they're one of those I can't seem to track down in my usual manner (which is... probably on purpose, considering their received comments are set to be moderated and that they likely put up with a toooon of bullshit from people with Opinions.

(Keep reading to see which fics I'd love to podfic and why, and how you can help me find them!)

Also. Recs. Lots of really awesome fic recs, specifically for Tony-centric readers and those who really hit it off with Civil War Team Iron Man!

Does anyone know the Tumblr or Discord of: @TheSovereignofReality or @Wix from AO3?

Anyway, I'm a fan, and I just wanted to discuss maybe doing one podfic on a trial sorta thing, and then maybe doing a couple of my other major faves or a series of fics. As of my last major read-through of their fics, my favourite was definitely Mutantkind (this fic is so kickass, I love Logan). Not trying to spoil anything for any of this or the other fics, but taking up the chance at exploring the links between the X-Men and the Avengers (more Tony and even Pepper and Rhodey and such) was such a great move. A power move in so many ways, and I'm also really really eyeing the Transcendent Souls series that leads into the author's OC-linked series, Lennie Alice, and it all sounds like it's phenomenal and I just want to READ it, who cares about podficcing it??? I mean, I do, but most important of all: I'm just a fan who sees shiny fics all in a pretty series-row that I hadn't gotten around to yet (too busy reading Ramblings for the 10th time and wincing with each successive hit to the gut. Ouchies. But poor Tony too, woW. That one just hurts. In a cathartic way (even though I love Peggy, it's fascinating to explore these things!!)

Like Disney's "What If?" series if they weren't too scared to explore the really interesting things that make people tick and feel betrayed even decades later.

All of these authors, above and below, sure know how to throw those punches, and I like that.

I do have other podfic projects on the go, as well, yes, but spring is a great time for me and I get a lot of projects done pretty well on the regular. The Night King has been vanquished and the sun shines upon us again and offers me much Vitamin D and happy-stuff. :) :P

Doing a fic by @Wix would be awesome too, but I'm also not sure of their handle, unfortunately. Plus I've rarely spoken to them! Believe it or not, I can be shy. xD But there are so many of Wix's CW Team IM fics that I would just love to podfic and really sink my teeth into for the absolute wreckage and carnage that some of these characters would be feeling. Righteous anger, true anger, when you know you're right, when you just think you're right and the world crumbles down around you.... god I would love to really act those fics out and make people feel, just like we do and more when we're actually reading Wix's awesome body of work. It could be a real experience, and I would love to be able to help share that. All else fails, I'll just give these last two a message in their comments. ;)

And maybe @rayshippouuchiha might be interested in chatting with me about doing a (second) podfic of Hide a Heart of War? There can never be enough podfics of awesome Stuckony (or any ship, really), but I do also have my eyes on another few of yours that you don't have podficced, m'dear. :) I mean, Sore Must Be The Storm (wow, I relate to that title---and the fic itself---hard) would be really cool to do if the second chapter was up, (wing fics! CW Team IM! Woo!) Or the ever-so-classic "Assassination Attempts Are Not Flirting Toni" tag that epitomizes The Devouring of Hearts (which is hoestly epic and I am going to go re-read asap) or The (Not So) Great Pretender (it has a TextToSpeech podfic but those are hard for some people to follow along to --- I know my hearing issues mean I can't catch all of it, sadly, and none of it clearly! =/). Let's talk, if you're cool with me doing one of yours?? :) I would be so thrilled!

And @not-close-to-straight I cannot forget about you (ever) in this season of big eyes and planning out podfics all excited-like. Has anyone ever approached you about podficcing the entirety of your 3-part series Of Gods and Men that is ThunderIron, ThunderIron & FrostIron & Thorki, and then is PURE ThunderFrostIron with a super. special. twist. at the end omg???? Can we talk about that sometime? Whenever is good for you, if you're at all interested? Because there is NOT enough ThunderIron in the MCU, because I love Tony, because there is not enough FrostIron with Thor and Loki being awesome (usually), and then especially because there is NEVER enough poly ThunderFrostIron for my tastes and I just cannot when it comes to these fics. I just really would please love to podfic it, out of all your awesome fics this one just strikes right deep at the heart of me.

So. Um. Yeah.

This was going to be a quick "do you know this person!?!?! I'm desperate!" kind of Tumblr post, but it turned into me somewhat begging and complimenting at the same time, and it sounds totally shameless but I also haven't slept for about 48+ hours properly and I am in severe pain so the mania tends to be the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse with all that.

So. Yeah. Just let me know what you think, preferably via DM here or on Discord (Juulna#0508) or Ask or whatever. I'm happy however. And these are YOUR fics, I have zero claim to them whatsoever no matter how I may strongly relate to them or love them or think they should have their own awesome experience with me spitting angry lines back when required in response to pure sass. I would love to try/do it all. :) Spring and Summer is my podfic season, and I'm going to have a lot of fun with current and potential projects alike!

Ta, loves. And thank you for considering me for podficcing these awesome works! If you want a recent example of a fairly quick (and porny, hah) oneshot I did, I think you'd like what I did with @tsuki-chibi's The Shirt [fic]. Check the podfic out here, and then give the original author love because it is a DAMN FINE fic (and I want the shirt, hah).

[onepawproductions]

First proof of the audio player for The Podfic RePawsitory! Not programmed yet, but visuals are progressing nicely!

Looking at it on Tumblr, I think more color, and white less stark

Not fully happy with the Fanfic Book Card, at the top. But I like the audio player !

[itsagentromanoff]

That moment when you go to read your favorite author on AO3 and realize they deleted their entire work

[heartbeetz]

Ok actually I'm slightly tempted to create a wix site just for me to post my writings on... that way they're not really publicly posted but also they're not completely private...

[inkwardspots]

twice twined, once forged

Chapter Summary: 

Here on AO3 

First --- Previous ---- Next

Ianthe receives a letter, Dudley want to know too and they take a impromptu road trip, when finally, they hear a unexpected visitor.

--------------------

Chapter 3 -- the letters from no one, magic and dudley

--------------------

Ianthe knew it was one of those dreams again.

The dreams with the little boy called Tom, and his time spent at the orphanage, Wool's Orphanage, he had called it.

This time, it was cold and dark, and Tom (he looked younger here, four or five at the most, yet startlingly handsome, even so young) was locked in a dark cellar, much like her cupboard, his eyes wary even then and starving by the looks of it.

She didn't like it; she didn't like how much this boy reminded her of herself, figment of her imagination or no. She wanted someone to help him, like she had always wanted someone to help her in her younger years, yet no one did, and for that Ianthe had always cursed the women opening the door, a lady by the name of Mrs. Cole.

She stared at Tom in hate, disgust and horror and trepidation on all present on her face, “Tom.” she started, “I hope you’ve learnt your lesson. Know that I won’t tolerate you displaying your devilish powers to the rest of us, understand?”

Tom only sneered at her as she scrutinised his face, “Of course. Don’t let my superiority burden your simple-minded ways.” Mrs. Cole’s face burned red before she lifted her hand, slamming it down on his face, sending him into a coughing fit, “Mind your words, boy.” she spat out, “With an attitude like that, no one would want to adopt you, not that I would let them. Burden, you are, wouldn’t do well to our reputation to pass off devilish boys to our visitors. Head upstairs and get dressed. The Priest’s to arrive in an hour.”

Tom inhaled shakily, “No… no-no-no, you can’t! Not again, I won’t allow it! The Priest can burn for all I care, but I’m not going near him, not again!”  He yelled a rare moment of panic, and how he wished that he hadn’t said or shown anything of his panic and horror as Mrs. Cole smiled cruelly.

“Oh, I can and I will, Tom.” she crooned, “Best to head up, you still have to prepare, and for fuck’s sake, clean up your mess.” She said, gesturing noncommittally to the wreckage of day’s old dried vomit and piss on the cellar floor. When Tom refused to move, she grabbed his arm and set about pulling him through the door, ignoring his screams of “Let me go!” and “Please, not again!”

How much did Ianthe want to knock Mrs. Cole to the floor and give her a good beating, like she did to Tom sometimes, and yet, like the many times before, Ianthe’s vision blurred and the vision of a screaming Tom being dragged out slipped from her mind as she awoke to the banging on her door and the final click of the lock finally being opened by the Dursleys’.

The escape of Nagini had earned Ianthe her longest punishment yet (and that was saying something about the time she had, in frustration and anger at Petunia, turned all her coats a horrible vibrant green, through use of her abilities), by the time she had been finally let out, only a week ago, the summer holidays had already started, and while she was excited about that, she was also more wary and cautious of Dudley’s friends who would visit each day, wondering if they would resort to Ianthe-hunting once again, but for the time being, they seemed sufficiently entertained.

So, for most part, Ianthe spent the majority of the summer wandering around the local neighbourhood, being met with suspicious glares and hushed whispering. She would have entertained herself by hanging out with Miss. Nirmala, but she had been forced to set off to a confectioner’s conference in Brussels, and she had only known this as Aunt Petunia had barred Miss. Nirmala from saying goodbye, despite the solid banging on the door following the hour after their explosive argument.

After that -- and the wary stares they kept getting from No. 8 -- she’d finally caved, dragged Ianthe out the cupboard and hissed some unintelligible words to Miss. Nirmala that caused her face to turn stony and lead Ianthe outside, hugging her goodbye and kissing her forehead, ignoring Petunia’s burning gaze, after that, Miss. Nirmala spoke, “Ianthe, call me, if anything happens, okay? Oh, and check the mail. Something might be sent.” She had grinned, before making her way into the taxi with a confused but grinning Ianthe waving her away, well, before Petunia had dragged Ianthe back into her cupboard and extended her stay by a week, that is.

However, there was some hope at the end of the summer. Ianthe was heading to secondary school, and, for the first time in her life, she wouldn’t have to go there with Dudley. He was joining Smeltings, Uncle Vernon’s old school, along with his best friend Piers’ Polkiss, whilst Ianthe would be attending Stonewall High, the local comprehensive school, a large building of all concrete and a swinging sign displaying its name and for some absurd reason, Dudley thought this very funny.

“They stuff people’s heads down the toilet on the first day at Stonewall,” he told Ianthe. “Want to come upstairs and practise?” “No thanks,” Ianthe had said, “The poor toilet’s never had anything as horrible as your head down it -- it might be sick.” and then she ran, before Dudley could figure out what she’d said.

It sometimes got a bit boring with no one to entertain herself with, so, within the first week out the cupboard, she’d set about finding a snake that she could talk to -- only, the sad thing was, snakes weren’t exactly native to Britain after one of the passing teenagers who’d smoke cigarettes on the local Tesco corners pointed that out. The realization had caused Ianthe’s eyes to widen, and after that, her hands came up to cover her face and scream in embarrassment into them.

Oscar, who she sometimes chatted with while he smoked his cigar called over Axmed -- who was probably selling some illegal substances -- came strolling by, and happened to hear the tail end of their conversation, “Abeeso?  Why on Earth would you think you would find one in Ingiriiska?” Ianthe flushed red again, playfully shoving Axmed, “It was a valid thought!” she pouted out, sending the fifteen year old (Oscar) and sixteen-and-a-half year-old (Axmed) in to fits (it was so not funny!).

“Shimbir,” the special nickname meant for Ianthe made its way through his tongue, “You will find no good snakes here. It is not like home, like Somalia. It is too civilised, too cold and they are not welcome here. If one were to cross the ocean to come here, they would need a special goal, or, they would be forced to, by those bigger: humans. Back home, they are beautiful. Their scales -- they glimmer… and they kill all grandfather’s cows, let us not forget!” he joked, sending Oscar, Ianthe and himself into laughter.

Rarely, if ever, did Axmed talk of his home in Somalia after he had fled during the early beginnings of the civil war in Somalia after they had burned down his whole village. Somehow, he had made his way into Britain, and after being taken in as a refugee, had been placed in a foster home and been sent to school at the age of ten. So often he acted as if the burning of his village had not bothered him, and yet, earlier this year, when they had officially told of the beginning of the Somalian Civil War, he had seemed ever so sombre.

Still, after they had a good laugh on her naive thought on finding a native snake in Britain, and a lady passing by glared furiously at them and especially Ianthe (no doubt fuelling the rumours of the already delinquent young girl), Ianthe bid them goodbye, and set on wondering where Nagini and her Master could be now.

Once Ianthe had made her way home, she had been sent straight to bed (“Mrs. O’Hara said she spotted you with the local riffraff, girl! Until you learn what you mean on our reputation, you’re not getting out of that cupboard, understand?”) Of course, they had broken their promise in the morning seeing as they couldn’t possibly let Petunia cook after her tiring day with the local Ladies Tea Society from yesterday as well as getting Dudley’s school uniform for Smeltings. And did Ianthe have a shock in the morning!

When Dudley had entered the kitchen, Ianthe was sure she’d cracked two ribs from trying to not laugh and trying to suppress letting tears of mirth stroll by. In all his glory, Dudley stood proud, decked in a maroon tailcoat, orange knickerbockers and a flat sort of hat called a boater. He carried a knobbly stick around as Petunia and Vernon talked jovially in the background.

They took their seats as Ianthe carried the breakfast onto the table, jumping slightly over the stick that Dudley had positioned to knock her over with. Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life while Aunt Petunia burst into tears, saying that she couldn’t believe it was her Ickle Duddikins, all grownup and handsome. At this, Dudley had turned bright red, patting his mother on the arm as she squeezed the life out of him and Ianthe shook her head in disgust and… longing, she supposed. For years, she had wanted to see her mother smile at her like she had in the picture, yet it would never come true. She had wanted her dad to say ‘I’m proud of you.’ and yet, he never would, because they were dead.

After that, Ianthe had remained sullen, the short-lived enjoyment in seeing Dudley clothed in those horrible clothes evaporating into thin air. Once again, the next morning, Ianthe had been granted a rarely allowed lie in.

Yawning, she had got dressed and washed her face, making her way into the kitchen to start cooking the breakfast, but she had been assaulted by a horribly pungent smell, something like rotten eggs and spoiled milk, coming from a large bowl Aunt Petunia stood over, a clothespin pinching her nose shut as she stirred a ladle in the bowl.

Coming over, she found a collection of dirty grey rags. “What’s this?” Ianthe had asked, poking the water before quickly retreating after it let out a great heat on her finger. Aunt Petunia’s lips tightened at the inevitable question, “Your new school uniform,” she had said.

Ianthe looked into the bowl again, looking at it sceptically. ”Oh,” she said finally, “I didn’t realise it had to be so wet.” Aunt Petunia’s nostrils flared as she answered, “Don’t be stupid,” she snapped, “I’m dyeing some of Dudley’s old things grey for you. It’ll look like everyone else’s once I’ve finished.”

Ianthe eyed the rags again, seriously doubting it. She grabbed the milk jar on the way to the table, noticing Aunt Petunia had already made breakfast, a first for her. As she pondered over if she and her Aunt had seen the same thing on the bowl, she also wondered what she would like on her first day at Stonewall High -- like she was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen, both of them wrinkling their noses at the smell of Ianthe’s uniform -- not that she could blame them, loathe as she was to admit it. Uncle Vernon took a seat and started reading his newspaper, whilst Dudley -- who had taken to carrying his Smelting’s stick around everywhere -- set about banging it on the table and occasionally trying to hit Ianthe’s shins from underneath the table.

They heard the click of the letter-box and flop of letters on the doormat.

“Get the post, Dudley.” Uncle Vernon grunted out from behind his paper, turning over to the economics page.

“Make Ianthe get it,” Dudley whined, revelling in the glare Ianthe sent his way.

“Get the post Ianthe,” Uncle Vernon said, tutting at the once again rising unemployment levels.

“Make Dudley get it,” Ianthe viciously replied, her eyes glowing slightly, not that Dudley noticed as she tried rapidly to calm herself down. It took a great amount of effort to get her eyes glowing, and she did not want Dudley to know that such a childish jab had that effect on her.

“Poke her with your Smelting’s stick Dudley.” Uncle Vernon said, recoiling in horror as he happened upon the book review page about ‘The Hobbit’ a children’s classic, they said.

Ianthe narrowly missed the Smelting stick and made her way out, but not before sticking her tongue at Dudley, which he returned, and missing Aunt Petunia’s sigh of “Children! They have no manners at all, not even Duddikins; bring out the worst in each other.”

Mulishly making her way to the front door, now calmer and more level-headed -- but could she even argue that she had ever been level-headed in the first place? -- She bent down to collect the letters the Dursley’s had received, never her.  

Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from dreaded Aunt Marge, who was holidaying on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill -- probably an electricity one, from the amount of hours Dudley spent on his electronics -- and a letter -- a letter for Ianthe!

Ianthe’s heart raced, taking in the heavyset paper, and turning it over, she found a symbol; a lion, proud and bold and brave (Gryffindor, a voice whispered), a badger, fierce and loyal and just (Hufflepuff, the voice said once more.) an eagle, wisdom and wit and understanding (Ravenclaw, the all too familiar voice said, and Ianthe felt as if she knew it, only younger,) and finally, a snake, much like Nagini, one that she felt that she had seen before, maybe in a memory or dream, with its fangs out on display and coiling body, cunning and ambition and trueness (Slytherin, it said again, and… home.) that all surrounded a large letter ‘H’.

Tom? She thought before she was brought out of her reverie by Uncle Vernon’s yell to hurry up. Casting another glance at the letter:

Miss. I. Potter

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

She made haste towards the kitchen, hoping and wishing that they wouldn’t take her letter away, not when there was a chance that someone knew about her, knew about her parents, even!

She entered the kitchen, handing over the postcard and brown letter, taking her seat and hoping they wouldn’t notice her letter and herself, and even though she knew that they would find it only too easy to snatch it away and never let her see it again, she couldn’t spend the whole day waiting until she was in the safety of her cupboard to open the letter.

And just as suddenly, it was snatched away, grubby hands close in around it as Ianthe let out a “Hey!” Dudley stuck his tongue out, before dragging her to his bedroom by the wrist.

Finally wrenching her wrist free, she massaged it as she turned to Dudley, hands on her hips as she hissed out her anger, “And what do you think you’re doing? That’s my letter, my property! I want to read it!” Dudley let her yell before talking, “No. You live in the Dursley’ house and you’re not a Dursley, so I want to know what’s in the letter too, Ianthe! Let me read the letter with you -- after all, who'd want to send you a letter when they could send one to me? -- and I won’t tell mum or dad, deal?” he asked, grubby hands stretched out.

Ianthe thought it over in her head. All she had to do was let Dudley read it with her -- what harm could the letter possibly have in its contents? -- And he wouldn’t tell his parents. He could still snitch on her, but that’d be sorted if she scared him a bit. “Fine.” she grouched out, meeting his hand as they performed a handshake.

They took a seat on the duvet-covered double bed, sure that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were busy for the moment, as Ianthe let Dudley admire the strange wax seal, him proclaiming that the lion was ‘wicked’ and the snake ‘brilliant’.

“Why didn’t you like Nagini then?” she had asked, perfectly fine with teasing Dudley if he was at least decent in his rare moments of no annoyance. “Nagini?” he had asked, coming back with a pocketknife that he had nicked from his dad, deciding that the wax seal was too cool to break. “The snake.” she clarified, “Her name was Nagini.” as she watched him slowly break the seal, most, if not all, intact.

“You really spoke to it?!” he gasped out, pocketknife cluttering to the carpeted floor, “I thought Piers was pulling my leg when he told me.” Ianthe sniffed, pulling the opened letter closer to her, “I was talking to it. There was a reason why I missed the last month of school, y’know.”

“Right,” he said awkwardly, rubbing his chubby neck and remembering the loud bangs of breaking objects and his wondering if mum and Ianthe were safe downstairs.

“Now,” she said, “Let's open the letter, I’m dying to know what it’s about! I wonder if it’s Severus, maybe he finally found out where I live?” she said, drawing the letter out of its envelope, “Severus?” Dudley had started, “Who’s Severu....what?!” he yelped out, reading the letter eagerly with Ianthe by his side as they took in its writing.

                                          ------------------------------------

                         Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

                                  Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

  (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. ,Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump,                                                International Confed, of Wix)

Dear Miss. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1st September. We await your owl no later the 31st July.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

                                            ------------------------------------                                                                           

Dudley and Ianthe stared at it for a good long minute, taking in the words Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. “Someone’s gone round the bend, they have. You-- a witch, Ianthe! There’s no such thing as witches or wizards, no such thing as magic! Dad and mum say so.” Dudley finally said, looking at the letter in amazement. Ianthe held the letter close to her chest, finding the list of items she needed to attend Hogwarts. “Look,” she said, showing him the letter, “Look, what it says, The Standard Book of Spells … Magical Drafts and Potions … Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them ... a wand, a cauldron, hey -- you can even get an owl as a pet! And broomsticks, Dudley!”

The rotund boy stared in awe at all the equipment needed, because it was magic, something his parents would deny till their dying day that existed but… “Why would mum and dad lie? It’s so cool! ’“ Ianthe snorted in amusement, wondering if the contents of the letters were true, “Why wouldn’t they Duddikins? They try so hard to be normal, it’s no wonder they’re scared of magic. Scared of me and what I can do.”

Dudley stared at the girl for a moment, all bones and messy hair, demonic green eyes and an odd scar on her collar that he had only gleamed once before, “You really think that you’re a witch? You think maybe that’s why you can do... all that freaky -- no, magic?”

“Well, it certainly makes lots of things add up, doesn’t it? Why I can do all those odd things, like that time I broke your computer --” -- Dudley interrupted her with a “So it was you!” -- “-- and it also explains why Aunt Petunia hates me so much, because my mum must’ve been magic too, don't cha think? Maybe she was scared of magic, so she was scared of my mum?”

Dudley turned towards her again, grabbing the letter, “I don’t think mum was scared of Aunt Lily. Mum sometimes talks about her, you know. She says that you’ve got Aunt Lily’s temper” -- warmth in her chest as I've got mum’s temper was added to her list of treasures -- “and that you’ll grow up real pretty, like her sister. Said that your dad was a looker too, but don’t tell her that I said that, she’d box my ears!” Ianthe giggled, adding her dad was a looker to her treasure trove

“Of course, Dudley. Just this once though, cause you won’t tell about my letter. But the question is, what should I do? They said to send an owl, but what if this is all a great big prank?” Dudley shook his head, a rare kind of steely determination present, “It won’t be Ianthe. You said it yourself; it explained why you can do all those odd things, right? So all we have to do is send a reply and --” but at that moment Aunt Petunia came bursting through the door, holding a platter of what seemed Victoria sponge cake and custard creams but it clattered to the floor as she saw the familiar parchment with the wax seal in the hands of her darling son and the daughter of her dead sister, the one who had been destined to revel in the world of magic.

She paled; calling out “VERNON!” as she pinched her lips and all of a sudden became very hysterical, “Duddikins hand over the letter sweetie. Don’t worry; I know whatever the freak told you, it isn’t real, alright, darling?” Uncle Vernon came bounding up the stairs, a donut still being half stuck out of his mouth, and was confronted with the odd sight of his son and niece sitting amicably.

“Vernon,” his wife started, “It came! They sent the letter and Dudley’s read it, and so has the girl!” Vernon, all of a sudden, tried to grab the letter straight from Dudley's loose hands, but at the last minute, Dudley held tight, face pinched, much like his mother, “No. Ianthe and I want to know what it means, if she’s a witch… if she’s magic! You have to tell us!” Uncle Vernon smiled forcefully, tugging harder and harder, “Not to worry, son,” he tried harder and harder, “It’s probably just some prank, freak’s been getting misdirected mail, that’s all.”

He finally was able to grab the letter, but not before tumbling backwards a great distance, tumbling to the floor, “NO!” Ianthe yelled, jumping on her Uncle’s fallen form, “That’s my letter!  I want to know, because it's mine.” She wrestled with him on the floor, eyes burning an acidic green as Uncle Vernon finally shoved her off as he ran out the room, no doubt wanting to escape from the maniac girl who was set on pursuing him.

Aunt Petunia held her back, not letting her escape, and now, Ianthe turned her fury on her Aunt. “Tell me!” she demanded, “Tell me, did you know that I was a witch!” She teared at her aunt's arms, bringing great pink marks, “Did you know that I was magic, did you? Was dad magic, was Severus?”  

“How did you--?”

“How did they die? Tell me the truth, because how were they magic if they died in a car crash? A measly car crash! Why, why were you scared of magic, tell me Aunt ‘Tuney – " and suddenly, Ianthe was struck to the ground, her breath taken away as she realised that she had been struck by Aunt Petunia.  

Aunt Petunia, while she would give a little bat against the head every now and then, had never struck her, like Uncle Vernon. And yet, the evidence of her claim lay against Ianthe’s right cheek, and despite it, Ianthe’s eyes burned, not in anger, but in pain, just as her collar bone scar burned right alongside it.  

“I was not scared,” Aunt Petunia hissed, “I was jealous.”

And so, that was that.

--------------------

After that, things got so tense; you could’ve sliced a knife through it.

It was also the talk of the neighbourhood, and Petunia was so affected that she didn’t care. At all.

Well, she did, but she showed in a much more effective way, and despite her great hatred of Aunt Petunia at this moment, Ianthe had to admit that watching Aunt Petunia ruin Lila Orpington’s Gucci handbag was very satisfying after her aunt had overheard them talking about her and ‘her incapable child rearing of a young girl, tosh!’, so much that Ianthe wondered -- when Petunia was less angry -- if she’d give Ianthe some tips.  

Useless though it was, Uncle Vernon had tried to make amends by offering Dudley’s second bedroom in a bid to calm the explosion meant to happen from the both of them. It was that lack of Dudley’s whinging screech that he wanted his bedroom back that signified the thought that Uncle Vernon and Dudley were deadly scared that Aunt Petunia and Ianthe would possibly maim someone in the process of their argument.

She still enjoyed the room, of course, taking her things to the new room only took one trip, and after that, she set about tidying the room, finding a stack of books ranging from an outdated encyclopaedia and a recently gifted The Hobbit by a business acquaintance to Dudley, Ianthe had overheard the lady telling him that it was her favourite book as a child in the early 1950’s.

And yet, the day after the debacle, another six copies had arrived, causing Uncle Vernon to have an aneurysm, much to Ianthe’s amusement. Dudley’s parents had taken to allowing no interaction between the two of them after they had found them bonding over the letter. Ianthe had taken to waiting, letting them grow bored and relax and then striking for the opportunity, but Dudley seemed to keep ruining her plan.

After those letters, Dudley had seemed more so determined than Ianthe to get the letters. He had woken bright and early, making his way to get a letter once he heard the letter box flap -- only, he had stepped on Uncle Vernon’s face who had camped up to stop Ianthe getting the letter, he certainly did not expect his own son!

After yelling at Dudley for a bit he told him to wake up Ianthe to make tea, something which caused Ianthe to send a stink eye at Dudley for the rest of the day.

After breakfast, Uncle Vernon had taken to boarding up the letterbox, causing Ianthe to curse like a sailor internally. “See,” he said through a mouthful of nails, “if they can’t deliver, they’ll give up.”

“I’m not sure that’ll work, Vernon,” Aunt Petunia chimed in, carrying a plate of fruitcake.

“Oh, these people’s minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they’re not like you and me,” said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock a nail in with a piece of fruitcake.

Dudley and Ianthe shared a wondering glance between themselves before Aunt Petunia came up to smack the both of their heads. “Manners!” she admonished, “Vernon's perfectly fine. Now, Dudley, I want you to go fetch me a screwdriver, and girl, for Lord’s sake, brush your hair!”

Dudley groaned and Ianthe rolled her eyes before following after Aunt Petunia to fetch a hairbrush.  

-------------------

As Ianthe lay in bed, spending the night wondering: Jealous? Aunt Petunia was jealous of mum, of magic?, the magic mailman set to work on delivering the letters, and on Friday morning no fewer than twelve letters had made their way into the house. As they couldn’t go through the letter box, they had been pushed under the door, slotted between the sides and some had even made it through the downstairs toilet.

Uncle Vernon stayed home once again. After burning all the letters, to Dudley’s disappointment and Ianthe’s anger (they were hers!) He got out a hammer and nails, and set about boarding all the cracks around the front and back doors, so that no one could get out.

All the while, he hummed ‘Tiptoe through the Tulips' and jumped at small noises.  

--------------------

On Saturday things began to get out of hand. No less than twenty-four letters had arrived, rolled up inside each of their two dozen eggs that were delivered by a very confused milkman through the living room window.

While Uncle Vernon made furious phone calls to the Dairy and Post, Aunt Petunia set about phoning Isabelle to tell her how worried she was about Vernon. Dudley stared at the pieces of paper that Aunt Petunia had shredded in the food mixer and turned to his cousin, “They want to talk to you. You have to send the reply, Ianthe.”

“Yes, but where am I going to get an owl from?” the imminent detail that had plagued her for the many nights the letters had wreaked havoc. She should’ve kept the letter to hearself, she thought furiously. At least then, there would be a chance of an owl waiting nearby.

Dudley shrugged as Uncle Vernon slammed the phone down and set about stomping around the house.

That did not bode well for Dudley and Ianthe.

--------------------

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down looking jolly but ill, spreading marmalade on his newspaper and adding butter in his cornflakes, “No letters today,” he began, “No damn letters today--”

Something came whizzing out the kitchen chimney, hitting Uncle Vernon sharply in the head. About thirty to forty letters came at once, more coming every minute as Uncle Vernon turned a great scarlet and Aunt Petunia ducked, Dudley set about trying to catch a letter from the air, while Ianthe sighed: Idiot, before picking up one from the floor before Uncle Vernon wrenched it from her grip and shoved all three of them out the door, “OUT!”

“That does it.” Uncle Vernon proclaimed, slamming the door shut as he turned to them, half his moustache gone, “Pack your bags, we’re leaving in five minutes. Just some clothes, understand? NO ARGUMENTS!”

Ten excruciating minutes later they were all packed in the car, Dudley sniffling beside his mother. Despite being somewhat decent the past week -- obviously fuelled by their desperate need to know about magic -- he was still a spoiled brat and had been hit round the head by his father after he had tried to pack his television, video and computer in his sports bag.

They drove. And drove. And drove. They even passed a little house, dirt and derelict, in a place called Spinner’s End that caused Aunt Petunia to pinch her lips once again just as they reached the hotel.

“Shake ‘em off, that’s what’ll we do.” Uncle Vernon said once they parked the car, making his way inside the lobby.

They had not eaten all day, Dudley had missed five television shows he had wanted to watch, and he had never spent so long without blowing up an alien on his computer, so, as soon as they entered, Aunt Petunia ordered the first thing she could see on the menu, even bothering to get Ianthe getting a decently sized meal too.

The both of them were given a room with twin beds and damp, musky sheets. Dudley fell asleep almost at once, while Ianthe stayed awake, staring out the window as she absentmindedly rubbed her scar, tracing the word Voldemort on her collar.

She gazed at it sadly, wondering if she'd ever learn what it would mean.

Severus, Mum, Dad… tell me, please, is there the slightest chance that I’m… magic, any at all?    

-------------------

They ate stale cornflakes and tinned tomatoes for breakfast, before the owner of the hotel came over to them, “‘Scuse me, but are one of you Miss. I. Potter? Only ‘cause we got about a ‘undred of these on the front desk,” She held up the letter so they could read the address in green ink:

Miss. I. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

Ianthe jumped up, trying to grab the letter but was thwarted when Uncle Vernon got to it first.

The woman stared.

“I’ll take them.” Uncle Vernon said, quickly following her out of the dining room.

--------------------

“Wouldn’t it be better to go home, dear?” Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, covering a blouse over Dudley to keep him warm.

But Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her, only driving further and farther, looking for something that the rest didn't have a clue about. He drove them to a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head and went back inside. He did the same thing several more times, leaving the rest of them anxious and worried.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked, shaken at the thought of his dad going around the bend. Aunt Petunia hummed mutely, rubbing Dudley’s palm as she watched the great big raindrops roll down the window, the coast raging as a storm approached.

"It's Monday." He whined, "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television, Mummy!"

Monday. This reminded Ianthe that if it was Monday -- and she was sure of it since you could count on Dudley to know the weekdays because of the telly -- tomorrow would be Tuesday, the day of her eleventh birthday, and also the last day to send her acceptance letter to… to Hogwarts.

She doubted that they would take applicants that late, and if they did, Ianthe supposed that she would never be able to sneak away, let alone find an owl, of all things.

Maybe she could find a snake in a pet shop or something and send it through them?

Her musing was cut short as Uncle Vernon reappeared, smiling brightly and carrying a long, thin package covered in brown paper. Ignoring Aunt Petunia's question of what it was, he called out cheerily to them.

"Come on then, I've found the perfect place! Everyone out!" As they shuffled out the car, they were hit by a biting gust of air, sending shivers down their spines.

Uncle Vernon pointed to what seemed to be a large rock in the middle of the sea, and perched above it was the most miserable shack you could imagine. One thing was certain: that Dudley was not going to find a television in there.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" Uncle Vernon said, clapping his hands together gleefully, "And this gentleman kindly agreed to take us there!"

A toothless old man made his way up, dressed in a drab coat and what seemed to be snakeskin boots, sending Ianthe nauseous as she thought if Nagini had been captured from the last time Ianthe had seen her.

Logically, she knew that there was a slim chance of Nagini being hurt as she had set to go and find her master and there was an even slimmer chance that Ianthe would see Nagini again, yet, she couldn't help but hope Nagini was safe, it seemed.

The old man led them to a small rowing boat that bobbed merrily in greeting on the waves. "I've already got us some rations, so all aboard!" Uncle Vernon said the first to step into the boat.

It was freezing in the boat, the icy sea spray whipped at their faces and down their necks, as chilly winds blew viciously in their faces. After what seemed hours, they reached the rocky shore -- Uncle Vernon leading the way, slipping and sliding, he led them to the shack as the old man in snakeskin boots rowed away.

The inside was horrible, smelling strongly of seaweed and salty sea spray. The wind whistled through the gaps in the wall, and it seemed as if it had not seen a person for many, many years. The fireplace was damp and empty, and there were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon’s rations turned out to be four crisp packets and bananas each, something Ianthe shook her head at, cursing his stupidity that would surely starve them. He tried to start a fire, but the crisp packets only smoked and shrivelled up.

"Could use some of those letters now, eh?" He grinned, confident in his ability that no one would find them here.

Privately, Ianthe agreed, though it did no good to her sullen mood. She wondered how Miss. Nirmala was, after all, her bakers conference should have ended a day or two ago.

Night fell as it always did, Aunt Petunia finding a few spare blankets for Dudley who slept on the sofa and handing a thin, most ragged blanket to Ianthe. As they headed up, Ianthe curled up on the softest piece of floor she could, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.

The storm rolled by, the thunderous claps drowning out Dudley snores as Ianthe twisted and turned, wondering if she truly was magic. If it was not some great hoax that someone had decided to play, though someone had to be very dedicated to send that many letters.

She wondered if her Mum and Dad had been magic, she wondered if Severus had been magic. She wondered why Aunt Petunia had been jealous, when she seemed as if she despised her mother and Ianthe herself.

It was ten minutes till she'd be eleven, and Ianthe wondered if her parents remembered her even now, wondered if they remembered her birthday -- unlike the Dursleys.

Five minutes to go. Ianthe heard something creak outside, and she hoped the roof wouldn't fall through, though, to be honest, maybe she'd be warmer if it did, she thought wryly. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house would be so full of letters, for that many, they'd surely need lots of owls, so maybe she could find one there.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard against the rock? And (two minutes to go) what was that odd crunching noise? It sounded heavy, not like rock crumbling, but something -- someone else.

One minute to go and she'd be eleven. Thirty seconds -- but she didn't care, the banging -- twenty -- what was it? -- Ten -- it was coming closer -- nine -- eight -- she shook Dudley awake -- seven -- six -- "What?" He said, groggily rubbing his eyes. -- Five -- four -- "There's someone outside, someone..." -- three -- two -- a large thud as they stared wide-eyed -- one.

BOOM,

They sat upright and afraid and still as the noise shook the house and realised someone was knocking on the door, someone terrifying, it seemed.

[themculibrary]

Tony Stark Has A Heart Masterlist

and you needed someone to show you the way (ao3) - SailorChibi bucky/steve/tony, clint/phil/natasha T, 24k

Summary: Tony knows what the team really thinks of him. It's a delicate balance: they tolerate him because of his money and his toys, and he gets to stay on the team and fight with them. He's okay with that. So long as he hides the fact that Steve's and Bucky's names are written on his skin in the most embarrassing act of one-sided love affection ever, everything will be fine.

It just figures that a fantastically stupid villain, a kidnapping plot and a video camera will bring Tony's well-kept secret out into the open.

Anew. (ao3) - IViv tony/stephen M, 130k

Summary: In death, there was no glory, no redemption, no salvation.

Only darkness and ice—or that was what Tony thought. He closed his eyes in a Siberian bunker and opened them again on his 41st birthday, with War Machine flying into the distance.

A Parent Apparent (ao3) - happyaspie pepper/tony, mj/peter T, 528k

Summary: In which the author indulges herself in some shameless Irondad/Spiderson with fluff, angst and everything in between because she needs more of that in her life.

OR

Just another one of those, oh so overdone, fanfics where Tony and Peter's relationship grows into more of a father/son relationship after an accident involving Aunt May (who lives)

Hide A Heart Of War (ao3) - RayShippouUchiha bucky/steve/tony T, 13k

Summary: “You’ve got war in your heart boy,” Howard sneers, “don’t ever try and pretend to be anything but what you are.”

Tony feels the familiar burn of a flower mark being etched into his skin but he doesn’t look, doesn’t try and check to see what it is. Instead he keeps his eyes on Howard and his hands cupped around his bleeding mouth and nose.

If They Knew All About You (ao3) - MsHermia pepper/tony T, 521k

Summary: Tony Stark had lost his son when he was only 2 years old, stolen away in broad daylight with nobody the wiser of what exactly happened. Years later, Tony has just made it through the disaster with Ultron. He is trying to keep himself and the team together but relationships are strained and tempers are running high. Then a random turn of events leads to his path crossing with that of a particular vigilante. They are strangers to each other, or so they think.

Peter Parker is on top of the world. After a few shitty years, losing his parents and then losing his Uncle, things are finally looking up. Sure he lives in a crappy little apartment with his Aunt but he might have just found his mission in life.

Miscommunications (ao3) - Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so T, 14k

Summary: Five times the Avengers learn about Peter Parker, and the one time the rest of the world does, too.

nothing left but scars (ao3) - SailorChibi steve/tony E, 6k

Summary: Steve wakes up to the fact that no one ever compliments or even says thank you to Tony, and that he has fallen into the same trap of painting Tony with a specific paintbrush.

This is how he showers a very confused Tony with praise to make up for it.

Rise Up (ao3) - Wix tony/stephen N/R, 52k

Summary: Tony leaves the Avengers in the wake of Ultron when he refuses to standby and approve of their choices. Fate's quick to step in though and show that where one door closes, another one just might open.

Sharpen Your Teeth (ao3) - STARSdidathing loki/tony M, 369k

Summary: A betrayed Tony Stark leaves the Avengers. He's angry and bitter but he's not about to stop being a hero. The problem is that not everyone is happy with his decision.

Such Sweet Revenge (ao3) - ali_aliska bucky/tony M, 167k

Summary: When the Rogues are back in the States after being pardoned, the New Avengers want nothing to do with them and as far as Tony is concerned, if he never speaks to them again, it’ll be too soon. After all, he didn’t spend the last year putting himself (and his family) back together only for his former co-workers to ruin all of his hard work.

But then he gets a hand-written letter from the Winter Soldier himself, apologizing for the events that transpired and an off-handed comment from Rhodey about Rogers failing to take care of an obviously miserable Bucky Barnes sets in motion Tony’s new, oh-so-evil plan to get some payback.

After all, what better revenge than to steal the Winter Soldier away from his best friend?

The only problem: Tony sucks at being vengeful, but apparently he’s an expert at inadvertently falling in love.

The darkest hour is just before the dawn (ao3) - StarryKnight09 T, 90k

Summary: “Is this Peter Parker?”

“Yes…”

“This is Dr. Nguyen. I’m sorry but your aunt’s been in an accident and we’re going to need you to come to Queens Memorial as soon as you can.”

Peter's life shatters with a phone call. The last person he expects helps him pick up the pieces.

The Guardian (ao3) - Emily_F6 pepper/tony T, 234k

Summary: Guardian: a person who guards, protects, or preserves.

When a terrible accident claims the life of May Parker, Tony Stark steps up as Peter's guaridan. But it's not just a traumatized super-teen he'll have to worry about when he recieves a transmission from Thor.

Tintype (ao3) - EllOnWheels tony/stephen T, 144k

Summary: Tony meets Stephen Strange in the aftermath of Civil War, and finds common ground with the sorcerer. Stephen, as is his way, ends up finding trouble, and Wong finds this all rather tedious.

Then Tony decides to put himself in charge and save the world.

Tony's Girl (ao3) - Crosshairs pepper/tony M, 130k

Summary: When Tony Stark finally opens his eyes after being rescued from Siberia, he isn't the same man anymore. What happened in that abandoned Hydra base has broken him in ways that even Afghanistan hadn't.

But Tony is famous for his innate ability to fix things, even himself. Slowly, with the help of friends old and new, he learns to deal with his new status quo, picks up the pieces of his destroyed existence and rebuilds it from the ground up.

Until an unusual accident puts a new, interesting spin to his already interesting life.

[childotkw]

Hey Jordan! Love your fix, may I ask who your favourite fanfic authors are?

Hello darling! Thank you 🥰🥰

I bounce between a few favourite authors, depending on my mood - but the main ones I tend to come back to are:

RayShippouUchiha

k-s-morgan

Wix

Tsume_Yuki

I more focus on stories than on following specific authors, but these guys are probably some of my favourites. I always swing by every few weeks to check on what they've done!