Ooo This Question!!! Erm So I Read One Fic By An Author Called RobinRider Who Did An Amazing Fanfic Called

@icouldkillyouwiththistray they use both versions. Renners plays when it (SPOILERS!!)

........

When it shows Harlan killing there mothers

AHHH WHEN UR A HUGE JEREMY RENNER FAN AND HEAR HIS SONG IN THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY

Jedi masters as Padawans!

I need this as a full fic 😫

The mystery of how Alex had gotten here was another problem. Last he remembered, he had been with several MI6 agents debriefing after the crash of Air Force One then he had been bundled into a car allegedly to go back home and now...he took stock of the barren interrogation room again. He doubted he was with MI6 and he had thoroughly crushed Cray and his plan which left very few options of who could have known about the operation and have the resources of stealing him out from under his handlers.

The door opened seamlessly cutting off his thoughts and of fucking course things couldn’t be easy could they? He mused taking in the tall, blonde that strode purposefully into the room then froze when he registered just who was sitting in front of him.

“Oh hey, Dad , fancy seeing you here.”

He didn’t know why he was surprised, Ian had told him his father was “in the field”. Alex hadn’t known what that meant and Ian had refused any attempt of Alex to ask with ‘It’s better for both of you not to know. If you got caught Alex…’ at first he had been offended that Ian had thought he would break so easily under torture. And then he had actually been tortured and he appreciated the small mercy.

“Alex?” It occurred to him that he had never seen his Dad look afraid before - angry, sure, but afraid? John Rider was too prideful for that. Turned out, he didn’t want to see his normally cocky and exuberant Dad scared. The fact that Alex was currently sitting tied to a chair in what was obviously an interrogation room and with his Dad as a potential interrogator probably didn’t help. Combined with the fact that his father had no idea that he was being brought here, wherever that was, and there was no way that could even be remotely considered a good sign.

“What are you doing here?” He hissed, voice tinged with anger. There was the Dad he knew and loved sometimes.

I can just imagine Ian sat in the corner with his hand up to 🤣

John, talking to baby Alex: Whose my favorite little boy?

John: Yassen put your hand down.

I need to stop having fake conversations with Clint in my head,, i think this is counter productive to bettering my mental health,, he does not give good advice

Good Things™ in The Lightning Thief cast recording

“yEah, the gods are real [BEAT] and they have kids [BEAT] and those kids have isSUESSSSSSS”

“look….. I didn’t wanna be a halfblood” (!!!)

“but my life? HMM”

when grover just straight up baas and then pretends that nothing happened

“she threw a peanut butter sandwich at you. I blocked it, with my head”

“………that’s dedicated for a substitute”

just all the blue food references in Strong

“oh look, a strange man in a Hawaiian shirt”

“you drool when you sleep” (!!!)

“for me, not for you, yOU’D BE DEAD”

“who am I to give relationship advice I’m literally the god of alcohol”

“another terrible daaaaaay” “MR BRUNNER” “at camp half blood-” “YOU’RE A HORSE” “where everythiiiing’s the worst” “WHAT IS HAPPENING”

“I need a drink”

“welcome to the dysfunctional family”

“it’s gonna be bloody murder she wrote”

“you know what to do.” “yup. hide in a tree!”

“PLANTING AND PLANTING AND PLANTING’S A PAIN”

grover crying in the background after he sings about pan

“my father is kronos…….. remember my lecture he ate he his children” …. “chiron wins”

everyone’s singing about how shitty their parents are and percy just starts singing about how much he loves his mum

actual chills as the oracle sings the prophecy

ALL of Good Kid

“I’ll be the first” “aND I’LL BE THE SECOND FIRST!!!”

every time Annabeth says seaweed brain

“demon triplet math teachers”

“all our food was in there all our clothes were in there aLL OUR FOOD WAS IN THERE”

“I don’t wanna die in the Garden State!”

Grover talking to the squirrel

“that seems kinda,, nuts” ……….. “you hurt his feelings”

“aww is that a chihuahua?” “IT’S A CHIMERA”

THE DAM JOKES

BIANCA DI ANGELO’S TINY CAMEO AT THE LOTUS HOTEL

all of The Tree on The Hill holy shit

“maybe doesn’t let me go back and save her”

“it’s there reminding me of all I failed to be”

“do you have any josh groban?” “we will,, eventually”

“who has two turntables and three sick heads??? everybody give it up for DJ CERBERUS!”

“plus a half-goat with a great goatee!”

“you’re the two best friends this screw-up’s ever had”

every time Mr D gets Percy’s name wrong

the moment in Last Day of Summer that Percy realises Luke betrayed him

“don’t feel bad bc I’m usually about to die”

Happy Birthday handsome 🥳💜🎂

OMG I love this!! This is amazing!!!

Where was he? Pancakes.

Scott Tracy and a few of the struggles of ADHD.

Mostly Scott and Gordon but theres a good bit of John and all the bros do turn up! Ao3 Tags (i was trying a different way of putting this across): Scott Tracy has ADHD, Pancakes, Hurt/Comfort, more emphasis on the comfort id say, Family Fluff, i do intend there to be a part 2 but we shall see because uhh im also the adhd, Gordon Tracy is AuDHD, Scott is the focus here but thats also important, title is random line from the fic because i didnt plan that either!, Hugs, Scott Tracy Needs A Hug, and he gets several he has good little brothers, …how did it get to 9:42pm as im posting this I swear it was like 8:30 ten minutes ago 

@thunderbird1lover here is ADHD Scott!!! You in fact did help inspire me to get writing this!!

@idontknowreallywhy as always thanks for the insanity :)

I think its also relevant to note that this was started on my phone notes, typed one handed while juggling making waffles, then some of the rest done when I really should’ve been doing other things! —

Scott slammed the fridge door shut before leaning his forehead against the cold metal.

Great, just great.

This morning he had been planning to make pancakes like he’d been meaning to do for the last several weeks that he’d lost count of, intended for a day when everyone was off rota so would be free to enjoy them. On each precious day they’d had, he’d managed to stuff around all day with maintenance which was a full time job in itself, random tasks that surely shouldn’t have taken so long to do and getting stuck wasting time scrolling on his phone when he’d only meant to check the weather or something. He’d forget what he’d be intending to do, besieged by the thousand other flittering ideas in his brain and accidentally wind up avoiding a task that would take literally five minutes if he’d actually do it.

Case in point, last time he’d tried to change the batteries in the holoprojector remote so he could recharge them so they wouldn’t have to get up to change the channel which was getting really annoying, he couldn’t find the spares so then he’d spent an hour pulling all the miscellaneous items out of the junk draw to organise them, then had to put them back in semi-sorted, barely not worse than before because they were all over the bench and in the way when dinner needed to be made and he hadn’t  done the original thing and he was putting off making another attempt because of that disaster. Like had happened about a million other times.

Sure, there were also days spent getting involved in his brothers’ projects, or lazy mornings just hanging out in each others space to scatch up on actual consecutive amounts of quality time together. On some, he’d finally been getting in longer runs and some free climbing for fun in on the island when he didn’t have to worry about over exhausting himself when he was about to go on a rescue. But it was the rest.

Where was he? Pancakes. And the punnet of mouldy blueberries he’d been saving up specially to put in them as that was everyone’s favourite flavour and only he made them like that. But the berries had gotten forgotten in the back of the refrigerator along with several other questionable former vegetables and leftovers. A biohazard of tupperware containers he really didn’t want to touch lurked among them. But someone should do it.

And the eggs were out of date and he needed them to go in the batter. That was currently an oversized mixing bowl full of flour, sugar, etcetera and was the baking power in there yet? Another half done task for the list then.

Scott bumped his head against the fridge several times.  Frustration had him curling his hands into fists, shoulders taut in the way that would give him a neck ache later.

In the process of rattling his brain in its skull he managed to knock one of the many bits of paper from the mass of postcards, scrap sheets with scrawled grocery lists and who knew what else from its precarious hold under an over burdened magnet.

That’s how he felt, like one of Gordon’s tacky sea-life fridge magnets, constantly dropping probably important documents to be trampled on the could be cleaner kitchen floor.

Crouching to pick up the note, he had a flash of panic when he saw Alan’s school logo at the top. Presentation and in person were highlighted then underlined in red. When was it? Was he meant to come, but Alan hadn’t mentioned anything recently? Had Scott forgotten—?

Standing again too fast, he was ready to run off and find Alan to apologise profusely if he’d missed it or jump in One right this second to fix things, except then his eyes landed on the date and he finally noticed it was from months ago. Alan had absolutely smashed the science assignment even if he and Scott had shown up fifteen minutes late as neither of them had been ready, which was only saved from being hours late by owning the fastest rocket plane in the world.

Scott went back to leaning face first on the fridge. It could do with a wipe down on the outside too.

He just needed to get moving. But he wasn’t. And maybe he couldn’t.

That was the problem. Why couldn’t he simply get stuff done?  

Alright, he knew that why. The newly discovered he had ADHD and oh that explained so much of his entire life, was a pretty big why.

One he didn’t want to get distracted thinking about right now because he was meant to be making breakfast. Yes, he did see the irony of that. His forehead made contact with the fridge again.

“Hey Scotty, what did our poor defenceless kitchen appliance ever do to you?” It was so characteristic of Gordon to burst into the room in neon pink, flamingo patterned swimming trunks just as Scott was feeling sorry for himself.

Their sunshine fish. Who was also dripping water all over the floor.

Scott put on a long-suffering tone. “It ate my fifth brother, he never used a towel before coming in from the pool either.”

Gordon tipped his head to the side like a curious seal. “But you don’t have a fifth brother?”

“‘Cause the fridge ate him. He also ate the last of the pizza too,” Scott continued, giving Gordon a chance to cotton on.

“Oh, oh I get it now! We wouldn’t have another because the fridge— yeah!” Gordon laughed and pumped a fist in the air. “And nah, that was Virge.”

Dammit Virgil, Scott had really wanted that slice of pepperoni yesterday night.

Gordon also fetched a towel from the clean laundry basket on a chair, the fact that no one had gotten around to sorting it for once working in his favour before he tracked water all over the house to find one. Really they should put the towels by the door, they were mostly used after swimming anyway, that was an idea. Scott would just have to find a space—

He shook his head and couldn’t help but snort as Gordon emerged from the towel sporting a ridiculous spiky hairdo with his sun-bleached, chlorinated mop.

The towel, turns out, was one of those hooded thingos like they had for kids except Gordon-sized. In bright orange clownfish patterning, complete with fins, it was a fashion statement that Gords was clearly intending to continue wearing around the house.

Then Gordon turned to him.

Those big brown eyes held Virgil’s kindness, John’s piercing clarity of observation and what he recognised as his own steely determination. All bundled up into the five foot something of rescue operative, former Olympic athlete, ex-WASP forces and sole survivor of the worst hydrofoil accident this century that made up Gordon. He got the hard stuff.

“Now what’s up, big brother?”

A lump swelled up in his throat. Scott gestured vaguely at the fridge, his half-finished pancake batter and the selection of too old food items sitting on the bench.

“Life, the universe and everything?”

“Yeah,” Scott croaked, tugging a hand through his hair.

Gordon also got the whole ADHD thing on a personal level, 'cause it runs through families and who would’ve guessed with the chaos in their household that yes, it was more than one of them.

Scott swallowed, then shrugged as Gordon came closer. It was fine, really it was. Fine. So fine.

His brother held out his arms and Scott found himself wrapped up in ocean-smelling towel and fish, leaning into the strong grip as Gordon squished him tight. He stayed there until Scott could breathe again.

“Bit better?”

Answering was put off until Gordon let him go and Scott could speak again. It was not related to the emotion of even some of the crushing sensation in his chest lifting, it definitely wasn’t, not when he had the pre-made very reasonable excuse of wanting to avoid getting a mouthful of wet hair.

Scott nodded, shuffling closer to Gordon again to bump their shoulders. He didn’t currently care that Gordon was somewhat soggy. There were plenty of similar business-casual blue shirts in his wardrobe so he didn’t have to chose what he wore everyday to look presentable too with the hundreds of other life or death choices he had to make.

“Fantastic. ‘Cause you really looked like you could use a hug.” Gordon clapped his hands together, bouncing on his toes. His eyes remained on Scott for an extra moment.

The batter and the rest were discovered as Gordon then gently nudged Scott aside to poke around the kitchen.

“Ooh breakfast! Actually, definitely not breakfast. Maybe might’ve been breakfast once upon a time?” He picked up the mixing bowl. “Not breakfast yet?”

“One failed attempt at blueberry pancakes,” Scott admitted, before explaining about the whole eggs, blueberries, fridge fiasco.

In the middle of this, John appeared from wherever he’d been lurking. Possibly or in all likelihood their space brother had been tucked away on the upper landing library level, watching from afar. He wound his way through the lounge in a wobbling squiggle, barely looking up from his book in a habit that worried Scott rather unnecessarily. He greeted them then sat at an orange stool by the bench, continuing to read from his paper novel.

From past experience, John was both definitely listening and lending them his quiet support.

Scott continued to explain.

“Sooo,” Gordon drew out the word, “Here’s what I think.”

Scott grimaced, he already knew what he thought of his attempt.

Gordon cheerfully shook the bowl. “This falls into the marvellous category of going to become breakfast. Sounds like you’ve got a pretty solid plan, we’re just missing a few key ingredients.”

Gordon could be prone to being a little, well, optimistic. The key ingredients were, no one would ever guess, key to fixing Scott’s screw up.

“We live in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. There isn’t exactly a corner store within walking distance.” Scott waved his arms about in what might have been despair.

“How many supersonic aircraft do we own again?” John prompted.

“And a submarine! Don’t forget my submarine!”

“And a submarine,” John repeated.

Scott planted himself on a stool to hide how his legs had turned to finished pancake batter goop. John and Gordon weren’t getting it.

He buried his face in his hands. “Just doesn’t seem worth it to make the flight when we wouldn’t have this problem if I’d remembered in the first place…”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he was surrounded by the two brothers he was refusing to look at, as they interrupted his pity party for one. Two sets of arms wound around him, holding him up, holding him close. They were warm.

John was taller than him standing and he let Scott mush his head into his chest. Fingers carded through his hair in simple comfort when Scott made a quiet noise. Trusting his brothers enough to squeeze his eyes shut and make the world go away for a bit was the easy part.

The squid stuck them all together, as Gordon always did, hanging onto them both with a swimmer’s strength.

“Hey Scotty, stop being so mean to my biggest big brother, he’s doing his best.” That was Gordon, of course, right next to his ear.

A wet laugh bubbled up from deep inside his chest. It caught, snagged on jagged emotions in his throat before breaking free as he hugged his brothers tighter.

What had he done to deserve them? They’d all probably remind him instead that he didn’t need to do anything to deserve their love, he’d have it no matter what he did or didn’t get done.

A new voice joined them, as the sound of bounding footsteps crossed swiftly over the floor. “Is it cuddling Scott time? Aw why didn’t you invite me?”

Fluffy blond hair, thankfully not wet unlike some-fish else’s got shoved into his face as Alan joined the fray, the sprout using every inch of his new found height to wrap his arms around as many brothers at once as he could.

Heavier steps followed. Soft flannel added to the smothering and Scott could feel Virgil humming quietly as he leant into him.

Scott was at the centre of the hug, as they saw he needed them, at the centre of his brothers’ worlds, because they needed him too, and Scott would never want to be anywhere else.

wings AU.

Finally….finished….

—————

Despite his small size, Clint owns a pair of incredible large wings. They can send him gracefully up to the sky, high enough to overlook and shoot anyone who dares to call him short. He likes lying on the sofa with his golden wings spreading out lazily and taking up much more of space than he actually need, and if you incautiously step on it, millions of annoying tricks will just be waiting for you. (Unless you are Tasha.) Bruce once had delicate pearl-colored wings, small but strong, then the experiment gone out of control totally destroyed them. He can never fly again. Whenever he turned into the green giant, the residual wings will endeavor to stretch out as if every time he leaps high he is still flying in the sky. Ironman never talks about the wings he ever had before he lost heartbeat. He’s really satisfied of the iron ones. He had once insisted on making a pair of huge wings - bigger than Clint’s – and totally ignored Bruce’s warning, but in the end those lumpish hindrance made him changed them back to the normal size, unwillingly. Black Widow uses her dark wings as battle weapons. Underneath the soft feathers hide the sharp aftershafts which can cut open skin and flesh and bone easily. When she fairily stretch out her wings to you like black swan, it always means only two words: Fuck off. Admirable Captain America has a pair of pure white wings, but this holy colour means only trouble to him: it’s so easily smeared during the battle. And he has to spend 2 hours in the bathroom every time after kicked somebody or something’s ass to recover his wings from all those blood and dust.  Phil Coulson has no wings. Nobody knows why. If he was born that way he couldn’t be an Agent, if he lost them he should’ve died or gone crazy. But he is just perfect. Only without wings. He doesn’t need the sky, it’s his hawk’s possession. ———— Sorry for my poor English… if there is any stupid mistake (i know there is ) plz correct me, thx.

Talk about your peace of mind. The one I found so hard to find. Mosquito stuck in amber mine. Don’t want my body trapped in time. As I wait for skies to clear, Don’t seem to mind if I shed a tear. From time to time, I’m swallowed whole, And in a wink spat on the floor.  Will I follow you home again. 

THE ACORN - Oh Napoleon

(big thanks to @preludeinz for the help for song choice <3)