Blissfulisland

(Name) Stark was playing with her toys, blissfully unaware of anything going on in her home. Being the daughter of none other than Tony Stark, naturally she had all the toys she wanted, and all the best ones. Tony was just domesticated like that now, and ever since he laid eyes on (Name) when she was one year old, he'd fallen for her and been wrapped around her finger ever since. "Steve, what the fuck?!" You heard your Daddy yell. You stuck your bottom lip out a bit, being pulled out of your concentration and now annoyed. "Tony, calm down-" "Nope, nuh-uh, can't happen. I let you live in my damn Tower since your apartment got the hell snipe

John Watson rubbed his eyes wearily and summoned the last fragments of his patience. "Alright, run it by me one more time. You did what?" Sherlock Holmes was, for some unfathomable reason, sopping wet and covered in soap suds. His clothes were plastered to his skinny frame and he stood dripping in front of Watson's armchair, peering down at his friend through his sodden fringe. "I ran through a car wash." He explained, calmly, for the third time. John sat back in his chair, his eyes closing despairingly, and asked the question again. "Why?" "Chasing a suspect." "And it didn't occur to you to go around the car wash instead of through it?"

Why didn't I kill it?  I'll admit, you're right: it was an easy kill.  Scrawny, hardly any muscle, no weapons to speak of, and too cowardly to kill me.  I could have snapped its neck like a twig.  Almost did, too.  But I didn't. I should have.  It tore off my tail fin, which hurt quite a bit I should mention.  I could hardly fly.  Even as I tried to escape that cove, I knew I'd never fly again; you know how it is.  Our wings are everything.  Hello, wolves?  Panthers?  Vikings?  Other dragons?  Dead Night