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@moodypetrichorlove28 on Tumblr
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Faking Smiles 2.0

@moodypetrichorlove28 / moodypetrichorlove28.tumblr.com

Tumblr terminated my original account and refuses to restore it, so, here I am, faking smiles again with my chaotic mess of a blog. | Originally @moodypetrichorlove | Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moodypetrichorlove
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Starting anew!

Hi, everyone! So, a few weeks ago, Tumblr terminated my original account only God knows why, and after the realisation that it will not be restoring my 2-or-so-years-old blog, I'm here, trying out a new one.

Feels lonely, having to do this with 3 followers when I used to have around 150, lol (which was a verrrryyyy big number for me, hehe). The saddest thing is losing out on my quotes collection, and also my fandom meta.

Anyway, no worries. I'll pave new paths.

Oh, btw, this entire process reminded me of just how difficult Tumblr can be when one is trying to set their blog theme, and whoa, am I glad to have had that refresher. lol.

Anyway, if any one remembers me from my previous life, please follow! Because I cannot recall so many of my fave tumblrs and it's kinda devastating. I would love to reconnect.

Hope everyone is having a lovely time! :))

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fotibrit

Tony Stark survived the snap, but barely.

His survival was kept under wraps, so much so that nobody was told beyond his doctor and Nick Fury. His family was allowed to grieve, given only the arc reactor that was in his chest.

Tony Stark was in a coma for a long time, long enough for his family to move on. Long enough for Morgan to barely recognize pictures of him, long enough for Peoper to go back to being called Virginia, long enough that monuments to Iron Man had long since been painted over. Long enough for Peter to be looking at colleges, maybe in college.

When Tony Stark woke out of his coma, he spent a while trying to decide what to do. He could announce his survival, disrupt everyone’s lives, simply to make his own better. He could get a new identity, try to reintegrate into society, get a job and an apartment and learn to live outside the workshop.

Tony elected for the second and started his new life, comfortable in an apartment near where his old tower had been. He started a new job, he learned all he could about the time he had been out, he tried to avoid anything to do with his old life.

But he didn’t need to avoid mentions of Peter Parker, he soon noticed. the name wasn’t anywhere. Not on the MIT student list, not listed as a high school graduate, not at his old apartment… nowhere. Spider man was still around, but Peter? Nowhere.

And as much as Tony tried to avoid getting sucked into his old life, he wondered what had become of his pseudo-son. What happened?

Tony found out what happened when he came face to face with Spider-Man. And the hero stopped in his tracks. And Tony stopped in his.

Because Peter had just found out that Tony was very much alive, no matter how different he looked now.

And based on the stunned expression on his face and the first word out of his mouth being “kid”, Peter guessed that somehow, tony had evaded the grasp of the spell.

Because the spell dosnt work on people in a coma.

And Tony could never forget the son he died to save.

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Headcanon that when Peter accidentally calls Tony dad for the first time, he immediately freaks out over his slip-up (as usual) but Tony is running on like -20 hours of sleep and doesn’t even notice the mistake but he responds to it so suddenly Peter spirals into ANOTHER crisis because does that mean Tony thinks of Peter as his son, or did he just not hear him right? And now he doesn’t know how to bring it up without outing the fact that he wants Mr. Stark to be his dad

Peter: “Hey, dad?”

Peter, internally: Wait, shit shit! Why did I say that? I can’t call Mr. Stark DAD. That’s so creepy-

Tony, dead on his feet and hearing colors: “Yeah, Pete?”

Peter:

Peter, tearing up: “Um-”

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inkskinned

did you really let them ruin that for you?

when i was younger i worked on a farm for 3 years. during late july and august we would have unfettered access to the strawberry plots. they were all warm and ripe and fresh. i think i ate a pound of dirt back then. i think i picked enough seeds out of my teeth to build a temple. the summer hours are long; i'd come home with the bruising stain of juice running in a seam along my cheeks and fingers and jaw.

why didn't you protect your precious things from other people? you knew this could happen.

i can't eat strawberries from the store anymore, they don't taste right. something about the florescent lights and the chill of them and the way they are absent from the vine. they feel bleached and bland, a wasted party dress. i watch other people eat strawberries and miss enjoying them. none of the store-bought strawberries will have mold or bugs, okay. they will be big and bright red and perfectly shaped. but they are not the ugly and real strawberries of my summer, awarded by the soil and the hot sun up ahead and hours spent crouched, plucking.

i didn't mean to let it get ruined. i wish it hadn't been. i miss having it. but i came back to it afterward and it just wasn't the same as it had been. i know love is never wasted. but it feels like - love did this. it's not that i never loved it, you know? it's that i did.

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