a trembling flower

Michael Faudet (Check Venus)

Aries: “I think somewhere, in a parallel world, we made love in a garden of wilted flowers.  Out trembling hands reaching out toward the sky, trying to grasp the last watery rays of a dying sun–two hearts colliding and shattering into a million tiny stars” - We Made Love 

Taurus: “We slowly melted into a lazy summer of gentle sea breezes and singing trees.  Each languid day rolling into the next like the curling waves caressing the silent sands.  Our thirsty kisses sipping softly on wine tainted lips as we fell quietly into each other’s open arms” - Wonderfully Lost

Gemini: “Crashing waves on an empty beach, the rhythm of our hearts, two drowning lovers lost a sea, my lips adrift in yours” - The Kiss

Cancer: “Magic tumbled from her pretty lips and when she spoke the language of the universe–the stars sighed in unison” - Stars 

Leo: “Think of me as an uncharted map.  I want your hands to explore every single city, town and village.” - Untitled 

Virgo: “Do you know what really turns me on?  What I find incredibly sexy?  Kindness.” - Kindness 

Libra: “When it came to love, she enjoyed the thrill of the chase but seldom stopped to check whether happiness was keeping up” - The Chase 

Scorpio: “You say that you are over me, my heart–it skips, it sinks.  I see you now with someone new, I stare, I stare, I blink.  Someday I’ll be over you, I know, I know–I think.” - Wishful Thinking 

Sagittarius: “We made love on stormy summer nights.  Our kisses wet and furious like rain running wild across the naked ground.  Her gentle moans lost in the rumble of thunder” - Stormy Weather 

Capricorn: “I have never felt the touch of falling snow, she said, but like love, I know it exists.  Somewhere.” - Untitled 

Aquarius: “I am alone, love passes by, crying tears, I wonder why– I cannot find what others found” - Melancholia

Pisces: “A memory picked from a flower wilted, its petals faded all color crushed.  How can I forget such fragrant perfume?  The lingering regret of a love long lost” - Regret

Over Fathoms Deep - bittergreens - Sherlock (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 42/?
Fandom: Sherlock (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Philip Anderson, Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes, Molly Hooper
Additional Tags: Romance, Alternate Universe - Historical, Historical, Boats and Ships, Sailor!John, Aristocrat!Sherlock, AU, Johnlock Trope Challenge, Sexual Content, Explicit Sexual Content, sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Young!naive!Sherlock, Muscular!Sea-hardened!John, POV Sherlock Holmes, SailorLock, sailinglock, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Virgin Sherlock, Anderson has no redeeming qualities whatsoever, Sherlock is a sad gay baby, boxing lessons, Sherlock’s Violin, sailor!lock, Sailing, First Kiss, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Top John Watson, Sherlock is a trembling gay flower petal, John is a golden god of sex, First Time, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Masturbation, Age of Sail, Regency, Threats of Violence, Threats of sexual violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, THIS STORY WILL HAVE THE HAPPIEST ENDING YOU CAN POSSIBLY STOMACH, but there will be angst and conflict along the way, and also lots and lots of sex


When the youngest son of the aristocratic Holmes family is shipped off to sea in an attempt to cure him of his poor temper and bad manners, he fully expects to spend a long tedious voyage as miserable as ever. What he does not count on is having his heart stolen by the strapping young crewman, John Watson.


NO! YOUR EYES DO NOT DECEIVE YOU! IT IS TRULY A **NEW** CHAPTER!!!!! *flings anchor-shaped confetti*

GO READ IT!!!!! :D :D :D 

princess and the pauper | pt.1

You’re a fairytale I keep in my shelves, in my pockets and in the crevices of my heart. Whatever the universe decides, you will always be my prince in my kingdom.

➤ fluff; royal!au, pauper!jimin

➤ 3.1k words

➤ summary: royalty was no adventure to you. but when you find yourself in depths of the kingdom for the first time, you didn’t expect to find your favourite adventure in the heart of a pauper florist.

To your parents’ sheer disapproval and admittance, you were not by far the most prim and proper princess that every reader of a fairytale would expect you to be. And there was no reason for anyone to sugarcoat how ‘unique’ or ‘extremely charming in exotic ways’ you are because none of that sweet talk could compromise for your lack of dignity in this regal position.

Growing up with older brothers who find solace and extreme delirium in the most outrageous activities, you were quick to follow their boisterous ways. There was always the bubbling adrenaline that skirts your system like a roller coaster, quenching your thirst with new discoveries and adventures.

But the greatest adventure lies in the heart of the kingdom. A place, that a princess like you, was taught to beware of its possible dangers and festering communities in the isolated parts of the kingdom that speak nothing of ridiculous shenanigans. Your mind has always been beclouded by the foul knowledge and the warnings but it was too soon that you surpassed the age of innocence that you pondered over the fact that maybe, your parents, the king and queen, were just skeptical of someone like you to manage yourself into the real world. So for years, the fortress that you were reluctant to trust had taken away the unknown, the unexplored. For years, you let the walls hinder and barricade you from the impending thrill of discovery and you were beyond infuriated by the idea of it.

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so. in honor of the yatori week au prompt, i’m publishing the first part of something @paperypiper​ and i have been yelling about. it turned into….more than i thought. so here’s a hades and persephone au.

death and the maiden
ao3 / ff.net
“it’s easy to sneak up on me,” she said. “or, so I’m told.” 
one corner of his mouth twitched upward. 
“and who tells you that?” 
“almost everyone…my grandmother calls me a sleepwalker. she says someday i’m going to be so caught up in a distraction that the evil gods under the earth will come snatch me away.”

Something about the air told her this spring would be an early one.

“So…why aren’t you waking up yet?”

She crouched, cupping the tulips’ heavy heads between her hands, trying to coax their tightly clasped petals apart through sheer force of will. The flowers trembled, tugging up through the dirt toward her.

Hiyori lowered her forehead to the soft point of the tallest tulip bud, closing her eyes. She felt the little plant trying to shake off its dream of winter.

It’s time to grow.

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High on Love

Fierrochase week, day six: alternative fandoms au (Voltron)

Summary: When Team Voltron visits an alien planet to talk negotiations, Alex and Magnus decide to go for a little walk, nothing dangerous, just a walk.
… except Alex gets hit by an alien flower that makes her fall for the first person she sees. And who might that be? Magnus. Of-fucking-course.

Don’t complain about the title, please, I know it’s cheesy as hell but it was either that or Alien Flower Love Drugs so I flipped a coin and this is the title you get. Anyway, Lovebug (or flower) au, because I love writing Alex as a shameless flirt and Magnus almost having a heart attack because his crush is flirting with him. I hope you like this!

It all started with that fucking flower.

Team Voltron was currently staying at one of the planets that had decided to join them in their fight against the Garla. The planet was the most forest-y place Magnus had ever seen, it was like an ecologist’s paradise, just plants and trees and flowers as far as the eye could see (which wasn’t that far considering the thick foliage, but still.) Sam, Blitzen and Hearthstone were talking with the planet’s Elder Council about battle plans and politics and things Magnus or the rest of the team didn’t have the patience for, so they decided to leave the politics to the Black Paladin and the last Alteans and explore the planet’s capitol. You say they’re lazy, Magnus says they’re connecting with their new allies (and being lazy).

Magnus and the other Paladins walked around the city’s central square. They were looking up so much their necks were cranking up, but it was worth it. Every single building in the city was a tree, as thick as a skyscraper and as tall as two of them stacked on top of each other. Their orange, purple, pink and green leaves cast beautiful shadows on the ground and the monkey-like people that walked around them. Houses and shops were somehow sculpted inside the trees without stopping them from growing and stairwells, ladders and ridges led to all the different doors and balconies dotting the trees’ trunks. Ladders and walkways connected the trees with the platforms floating above their heads, reminding Magnus of mystical treehouse cities from movies on steroids.

Soon, the group found themselves walking on those same platforms, several feet above the ground. T.J dragged the Green and Blue Paladins to a food cart selling whatever food people here ate and Halfborn was examining the food with interest while Mallory was trying her best to sneak away before they made her try it. That left Magnus with Alex,  the Red Lion’s Paladin looking at the vines climbing the sides of the trees like she wanted to grab one and Tarzan her way around the city. Magnus wouldn’t be surprised if she did that.

“I wonder what’s at the top of these trees,” Alex mumbled out loud. Her eyes were trained on the foliage of a pink-leafed tree and Magnus had to remind himself once more not to stare because they’ve already had that conversation and he doesn’t need his crush asking him again why he was staring. It’s because she’s beautiful and he’s weak, that’s why.

“I dunno,” the Yellow Paladin said. “Maybe more shops? Or maybe there’s nothing up there because it’s so high.”

“I want to find out! Come on!” Alex exclaimed as she grabbed his hand and dragged him along, her eyes sparkling in that familiar way that let Magnus know something was about to go surprisingly well or horribly wrong.

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and to the winner goes the spoils

Pairing: Elizabeth/Henry (The White Princess)
a/n:  Guess who is trash for a new show !! Tagging @allisonswan per request and because I need to flail endlessly about this new enemies-to-lovers obsession of mine :)

He has seen this look directed at him before, but never by a woman. By men in battle, or by a deer in the woods as his hounds circled it. Fear is something he recognizes reflected in someone else’s eyes, but it is new seeing it in a woman’s.

Henry wasn’t expecting that, not from her. Elizabeth of York was all thorns, he had been told, not this trembling flower before him. He should feel relieved that this princess is scared of him, of his power and divine royal right. His kingship and very life depends far too heavily on her willingness to bow to him, and so for her to have that fearful sheen in her eye as they look upon one another for the first time should make his stomach unknot.

Instead, his gut clenches, in what he might almost call disappointment.

She isn’t looking at him anymore, not directly. Her gaze is locked on his chest, but still somehow unfocused. If she will not look at him, that is her choice, but he takes the opportunity to take a second look at her. Elizabeth is beautiful, that much his advisors had not gotten wrong. Even in these dark, sparse rooms–the ones given to shame her and her family–her white-gold hair shone like pure sunlight. He would feel better if he knew that beauty would fade with time, but one look at her mother, whose own looks had prevailed triumphant over age, and Henry knew that would not be the case.

The former peasant queen stood just beyond Elizabeth’s shoulder, a pale ghost that was far too real a reminder of how tenuous his position on the throne could be. That was why they were all here, after all. This unwanted union was something they all needed, desperately. And so, Henry takes a breath and does his duty.

“Good day, Princess Elizabeth.”

Her gaze flicks upwards, locks on his, and his chest tightens in anticipation, because it feels like he is finally seeing Elizabeth, Princess of York for the first time. The fear is gone, replaced by a maelstrom of emotions that flicker across her face too quickly for him to register. As she continues to stare–no, glare–at him, he realizes her shaking is not from fear. It is from rage, the type that is barely contained, and he wonders how he missed it earlier.

She is no flower whose petals are rattled by even a puff of summer breeze; Elizabeth is the storm itself, right before it breaks and lays waste to every living thing in its wake.

Storms do not scare him, however; he has battled rain, and thunder and lightening, and far, far worse to win his crown. If she was just one more storm to weather, then he could do it. He would do it, because it was indeed his crown now and no slip of a woman, no matter how enraged, would take it from him.

Before he can say anything else, however, his mother scolds her, and suddenly–fey thing that she is–Elizabeth changes before his eyes again. He can see it, as if in slow motion, that immediately after that single word–king king king–is uttered, she goes still. The storm calms, the rage burns away. Elizabeth bends barely low enough to be a proper address for a king, and greets him, finally.

“Good day, Your Grace.”

Her voice is even, pleasant, utterly neutral, and her face is blank as well. Such placidness shouldn’t inspire fear in him, but suddenly Henry feels a shiver go up his spine. The back of his neck goes hot. A flower he can coax to bend to his will, and a storm he can outlast and conquer, but she is neither of those things now. Just because of that one word–new to him and so very familiar to her–she disappeared before his very eyes, becoming the most dangerous type of enemy. He cannot fight what he cannot see, and so, for the very first time since that battlefield at Bosworth, Henry feels true fear.

And it is in fear that he glances away from her, but in the span of a heartbeat, his eyes find hers again. His stomach drops, because she was waiting for him to look her way once more, as if she knew that he didn’t have the strength to hide from her like she was hiding herself from him. Elizabeth doesn’t look away again, and neither does he, and something new begins to twist inside of him, something sharp digs into the deepest parts of his soul and makes a more desperate kind of fear take root.

That new, unplaceable sensation and the fear it elicits in him is why he takes a large sip of the offered wine, and why he deliberately pricks the princess’s pride with his dancing requests. With a single look, she has made him start to bleed from the inside out, and he is determined to make her do the same.

If it is a battle that Elizabeth wants, it is a battle she’ll get, Henry decides as he watches her stiffly dance before him. And to the winner…

He doesn’t take his eyes off of her the entire time.


Guys look, Mycroft commissioned a portrait of furious gay baby Sherlock right before he left on his voyage, and he was so pissed the whole time that the final portrait made him look like the angstiest, poutiest, Byronic hero.

The White Princess Quotes
  • Promises are always made, and they are always broken. Always.
  • All my life I have been good. I have been biddable. I've been quiet. I married who I was told to marry and I thank God every day for you, I do, but...I will not be biddable anymore.
  • You must tell him there is no curse.
  • A widow and a virgin hurling oaths against their enemies because words are all they have.
  • You have the look of our mother. That doesn't please you?
  • I hated her ambition. What it did to us. Nothing else mattered but power.
  • She was a queen.
  • By all the saints, I wonder how you walk in a straight line, your wits are so dismally few.
  • Summon your men, my Lords.
  • She does not come near me! She does not speak to me! She does not speak for me! Nobody listens to her.
  • She killed the rightful king, and put me on the throne.
  • Men are weak, swayed by beauty. Women must be stronger.
  • I am tired of being a trembling flower and hoping it might make them feel their conscience.
  • We are none of us fearless, ma fleur tremblante. But we are women, and we do what we must do.
  • It is hard I know. But the world in which we move, we cannot see an infant as he is but as he will become.
  • But there is fear in your eyes.
  • How will you explain all that blood on your hands?
  • I have no power anymore.
  • How can I prove that I am with you except to ask you not to die?
  • I kept my promise and now you will keep yours. We will be happy.
  • The boy is just a boy. A pawn for an adult game he that he doesn't understand.
  • Maybe you cannot understand, being told your whole life what you are, with never any chance to think about it for yourself.
  • What have they done to us?
  • We are their creatures.
  • I feel as if I've aged a thousand years.
  • If my mother raises an army, how can I choose between my mother and my son?
  • What would he know of politics?
  • The child is not your own. He belongs to the throne.
  • I have no love of war, but I do not like your king.
  • They smile into my face and then behind me draw their knives.
  • You make it look so easy. You know just what to do to make them love you.
  • You reap what you sow.
  • Your moves are far too obvious.
  • Your smile is almost convincing.
  • Burn them. And ban the snow from falling.
  • I am to be the spoils of war, the wife of a marauding madman whose mother even murdered children just so he could snatch the crown.
  • It's intended as a show of strength.
  • You need do nothing. Except consent, and look delighted.
  • All I have wanted, all my life, is to marry a man for love.
  • You think you have a choice? You think you have free will in this?
  • Well, if I am a whore, you will not wish to wed me, will you?
She thought her ish was was super hot fie (part 2)

“What’s up Melvin” is how Tiff answered the phone.
“Ain’t Nothing Tiff” you know how you can hear in a persons voice when they’re aggrivated or don’t want to be bothered? Yeah I was getting that vibe it’s quater. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, have you recovered?” Shots we’re being fired already.
“Ha you got joke huh?” I said trying not to get in my feelings.
“And you ain’t got no stroke.” Man no mercy, some of ya’ll women be cold blooded as hell, I mean playing no games when it come to it… Shit
“Listen about that, I had a situation miss lady.”
“ I mean you wasn’t ready obviously.”
“I mean yes and no right. I was ready for you no doubt but there was a complication that came about.”
“Oh so you was Sleep on my pussy aye… ain’t think I had that sauce huh.” I was tryna hold back my laughter, she was really on this high ass horse.
“So listen right, the food we ate fucked my stomach all the way up. Like as soon as you laid up under me my shit went 0 to 100 real quick, I mean real quick shot out to Drake. Naw but for real like I was surprised you didn’t hear all the rumbling.”
“Uh huh right” man shawty was playing me to the left real hard.
“I’m so dead ass right now folk, the last few days I been beating myself up about it. Like I was even glad u answered my call and shit. But, I had to be honest with you because it was killing me. A nigga really vibe you and i’ll be damn if I leave you with that bitter taste in your mouth.”
“Hmph so what you saying Melvin?”
“I’m saying let me make it up to you, show you what a nigga really all about.”
“Ummmm I don’t know, you sure the pink panther just ain’t your kryptonite?”
“Hell she very well could be but I wanna know for sure.” I played it modest but I knew if give the chance her ass was gon get his work.
“Well what’s good for tonight I got 5 minutes for you” she said in true ass hole form. I was going to let her gloat and have her moment fir when provided with the opportunity I was going to ravish her little ass and she ain’t even know it. So she gave me a time of around 8 or so to get my five minutes in.
Best believe so the rest of the day I was brainstorming like a mother fucker like how imma put it in her life. In my head like “she done tried a nigga set.” No sir I ant gonna let shit ride at all. Any man will tell going in to hype leads to a quick night but I couldn’t contain myself, she really had me on some show up and show out shit. So around 7 I resulted to an old trick my cousin put me on to. He said “bruh if you goin in too anxious you gon cum quick, so thats why I always rub one out before I hit s chick the first time.” Damn right I took back to high school days, Tiffany Ambrose was gon get that dick tonight… I showered up, Oh if you ain’t know, Axe bodywash is the truth. Threw on some b-ball shorts and a v-neck. sprinkled some Polo Red and made my way over to my opponents residence.
I pull up a quater til 8 l, I sit in he whip for a few minutes just thinking else where. Never did I feel I had so much to prove in a sexual aspect. Shawty pulled my card though, not just out the sleeve it was in bout out the book as well. I couldn’t let that ride, no way Jose. I finally hop out the car and head to the door bottled water in hand. She came to door in some b-ball shorts too and a beater, no bra on and the thangs we’re sitting pretty. We sat there for about 15 seconds just looking eachother up and down.
“You got five for sweetie?” I said a low and slow and shit.
“Yeah I got that for you” she said with a smirk.
I stepped in the door grabbed her waist and hoisted her up until our lips met. Her legs wrapped around me, I pushed the door shut behind me. I turned and pushed her up against the door as passion oozed from my lips to hers a from hers to mine. I let up a little pressure so I could slide her shorts down. I was playing no games with her ass. I slid her up the door and dropped my shoulders under her thighs kissing each slowly to Military cadence (left,left,left right,left). I could feel her trembling as I neared flower.
I was poised to make her beg for me to to change her. I didn’t go straight for her pussy, after kissing her thighs I moved to the crease wherE the pelvis and thigh meet. I could tell she was getting anxious her movements became more heavy and seemed to be less controlled. Furthermore I felt the puddle on my shirt getting bigger by the second. I finally put my lips on hers and she grabbed the back of head something serious. She as already cumming boatloads. The melodic sounds of her oohs and ahhs were music to my ears, when she wasn’t clinching her thighs around them. She loosened her grip and I let her down slowly.
She looked up at me with this look as if I told her fish don’t swim… “I think I went over my time limit.” I grabbed for the door nob and my hand was knocked aside.
“Nigga we decided to to give you an extension.”

Monofell: Dawn of the First Day

Ominious beginnings,
Senseless ramblings,

Time. Running. Out.

Foreshadowed madness,
Theoretical scenarios,
Too many questions,
And a little spark of inspiration.

Day 7: [Redacted]

Monofell belongs to @pc-doodle / @monofell-au

The Writer does not claim canonicity in any way. 

This is the final chapter! Thanks for sticking with me!

Previous | Fin

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Daddy’s Girl  (Part 2: Survival)

Request:  Hii! I love your blog! Can you a fic where the reader is still in high school and is secretly dating Peter Parker because the rest of the avengers are very protective over you? 

I’m tying this request into Part 2 of this one, cuz it works  :)

Part 1

Your father’s hands continued to work furiously over you as you faded in and out of consciousness. Steve had returned to your side as well, trying to help Tony stabilize you with only their limited supplies and limited time to save you.  

“Stark, we need to get her out of here.  You need to pick her up and get her home.”  

Your eyes were so heavy. You were so tired and all you could think about was how wonderful sleep would be.  Closing your eyes for just the briefest of moments, you felt the relaxation begin to take over your body, and you welcomed it without hesitation.

“Dammit, (Y/N), I said keep your eyes open!”  The metal hands of the suit slid beneath you and paused as Tony looked at you for signs of pain.  He began to lift you from the ground, but you let out a sharp scream that stopped him from going any further.  “I can’t, Cap.  I can’t do this.”

Steve took a sharp breath and moved to the other side of you, slowly putting his hands beneath you to lift.  “(Y/N),” his voice was quiet and soothing as he spoke, “I’m going to lift you, and I know it’s gonna hurt.  I’ll be as gentle as I can, but we need to do this.  We have to get you out of here, okay?  Do this for your dad, honey.”

You groggily nodded your head, trusting Steve but still scared of the pain that was yet to come. With a glance to your father, you looked back to the Captain and wrapped your arm tightly around his neck as he began to lift.  


Your father had been at your bedside for days and was now looking exhausted; he hadn’t shaved, his hair was a mess, and if it weren’t for the team bringing him clean clothes, he might still be in the suit.  The long days and nights of watching the nurses work fed his brain just enough to keep him sane.  He now knew how to adjust your IV medications and could interpret your heart rhythm. It was just a distraction, however. It was barely enough to keep the sight of you, nearly dead in his hands, from his mind.  He was pulled from his own thoughts by the sound of someone at the desk, asking to see you.

“I’m here to see (Y/N) (Y/L/N).  Could you please tell me where to find her?”

Tony stood now, stepping to the door to see who could be looking for you.  He saw a tall, skinny young man talking to the nurses, with his hands filled with flowers for you.

“I’ll have to check with Mr. Stark.  Just wait here.”

“Mr. Stark?”  The boy swallowed hard and looked suddenly terrified. “Did you just say Mr. Stark? Why…why would he need to…to be asked if I can go in?”

“That’s her father, sir.”

“Shut up.”  The young visitor turned away and began to mumble to himself under his breath, “she never told me that.  Why would she never tell me that?”

Tony smiled a bit to himself, amused not only at the boy’s reaction to his name, but also at the sight of the flowers trembling in his hands, petals being shaken free of the arrangement. Maybe he should save the poor kid.

“Hey, I’m Mr. Stark, but I prefer Tony.”  He reached out to shake the young man’s hand, trying his best to be polite despite his fatigue.  “And you are?”

“Iron Man.”

“No…that’s me.”  

“Oh, shit.  I mean, yes, of course you are.  You are Iron Man.  I love your work, you’re so amazing, and I can’t believe you’re her dad.  Wow.” He finally reached out to take Tony’s hand, shaking it with a firm grasp.  “I’m Peter.  Peter Parker. I’m a…friend of (Y/N)’s.”

As your father let out a quiet and restrained laugh, he put his hand on the new visitor’s shoulder and led him in to see you.  “This looks worse than it is, alright?”

Peter gasped loudly as he entered the room, dropping your flowers to the ground to take his place at your side as quickly as possible.  The two of you had been dating for almost a year, but no one knew.  Your father was explicitly against you dating a superhero, believing you had enough of that influence from both him and the other members of the team.  If he knew you were dating Spiderman, you’d never be allowed to leave the tower again.

Peter put his face close to your so he could whisper without fear of your father hearing him.  “I told you not to go.  I told you this would happen.”  Tony’s head perked up as he heard a sniffle come from the boy standing over you.  “Don’t leave me, (Y/N).  We have so much to do yet.  I love you too much to let you go, okay?”

Peter placed a small kiss on your cheek and backed away, wiping the tears from his cheeks so that your father might not notice them.  Before Tony could say anything more, your boyfriend was gone.


Natasha stepped into your room, pausing at the door to see your dad sleeping with his head on your lap. She had never seen Tony that way before; so soft and so vulnerable, and it began to affect her.  Hurrying to set the information she had found on his chair, she turned to leave as to not wake him.

“For a master spy, you’re not all that sneaky, Romanoff.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay.  What did you find?”  He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he took the tablet and began to read. As he read for a few minutes, his expression changed from confusion, to shock and finally anger.  “Spiderman?  That’s who this kid is?”  He looked from the screen to you and back again, “no way in hell is this gonna continue.”

Nat huffed at his quick reaction to the news, knowing you were capable of making your own decisions in the matter.  “Don’t jump to that so fast, Stark.  You know she’s a smart kid.  I’m sure she’s thought this thru.”  She stepped over to your bed, leaning down to kiss your forehead and to adjust the hair around your face.  “Besides, you know we’ll keep on eye on him.  We’re gonna protect our girl.”


“Dad?”  You turned your head gradually, looking around the room to find him.  “Dad, are you here?”  There was no response to your question, so you decided that he had gone home for the day. You didn’t even know what day it was, what time, or how long you had been out.  You could barely remember the day that brought you here.

The door slid open, revealing Tony, carrying his tablet and his tenth cup of coffee already that day. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. When he looked up to see your eyes open and looking back at him, he dropped the cup on the floor and was immediately next to you.  Holding your face in his hands, he laughed quietly as he kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment.  

“Hello, baby.  I’ve been waiting so long for you.   How do you feel?  Are you in pain?  What do you need?”

“Dad.  Shhh.  Slow down. I’m okay.”  You caught the sight of the bouquet in the corner of your eye, recognizing them as each of the flowers that you had told Peter were your favorites.  “Um, was Peter here?  My friend from school?”

As if on cue, he walked thru the door of your room, stopping at the entrance, waiting for permission to enter.  “I’m right here, (Y/N).  Your dad called me.”

Tony looked down at you, a mildly disapproving look on his face.  “You kept this from me for a year?  Why didn’t you tell me?”  He sighed at his own question, realizing that he already knew the answer.  “Yeah, okay.  I have a hard time with this stuff.  I get it.  But, honey, it’s kind of important for me to know you’re dating Spiderman, don’t you think?”

“And why didn’t you tell me your dad was Iron Man?  Also kinda important, (Y/N).”  

You had been awake for no more than five minutes and they were already ganging up on you.  You had always hoped they would get along once they finally met, and now you regretted the thought.  

“You have got to be kidding me.  I can’t believe I woke up for this.”

Alternate ending: Mourning

French is a hell language for hell people. i have said it before and i will say it again. (tinquiete les francophones jvous adore)

#is this why French is a hell language for hell people @dragons-am-i-right

addy my dear sweet summer child you have not even begun to scratch the surface

big rant ahead

here are the hellishest things about french and france:

  • it sounds like a cat dying of tuberculosis. ‘language of love’ my ass
  • despite everything being dirty, there is no way of saying ‘fuck you.’ italians have like fifty, the chinese have great localized swear slang. the french? euuuuuu….bah schais pas….*mouth contortion that looks like a chimpanzee sneering* vas te faire foutre, connard. i just wasted four syllables before i approached the pure beauty of “fuck you”
  • le subjonctif, a tense for people who sit at home in front of a dictionary shoving historic river silt up their assholes.
  • “boff”
  • “classic french singers” write emoer lyrics than mcr and everyone is falling over themselves to play it in a bistro on the fucking seine so while youre sipping your rude parisian coffee you can listen to jacques brel singing about dead flowers and trembling birds
  • “qu’est-ce que c’est?” I DONT KNOW ANYMORE AND IF YOU HAD TO USE TWO APOSTROPHES AND A DASH TO ASK THEN IS IT REALLY WORTH IT. that means “what is it.” except what it actually means is “what is this that this is”
  • the entire fucking number system
  • the lack of dental hygiene
  • the fact that “to be” in 1pp passe simple is a homonym for smoking. classic french freudian slip.
  • the fact that passe compose is replacing passe simple in the vernacular. passe simple is the best tense and i wish italian and english had it. passe compose is shit. “ils furent.” simple, elegant. “ils ont ete.” junkfood of grammar. 
  • “mais ou est donc ornicar?” is a great metaphor for how to make schoolchildren develop a deap-seated loathing for studying grammar. and teachers think this is so clever.
  • “il y a.” there are. c'è. 有. every other fucking language i’ve studied has a better way of saying this. anything would be better than “he [indiscriminate partical that sometimes references a hypothetical location and sometimes references whatever the subject of the last sentence was] has.”
  • y
  • le malade imaginaire by moliere.
  • the lack of quotation marks in dialogue. they use a dash at the beginning, and then it’s cormac mccarthy all the way.

good things about french:

  • cyrano de bergerac
  • alexandre dumas (and specifically count of monte christo, ie the original john wick. also he wrote something called the three musketeers, idk if anyone has really heard of it tho )
  • passe simple. my favorite tense. passe simple is my child.
  • arthurian legends (but they’re in english! you say. think again.)
  • beautiful demonstrative pronouns.
  • oh that little revolution they had