As it turns out, the Extremis hadn't quite finished rewriting Tony's brain. The only potential fix has...consequences.

Steve finds the Iron Man plushie on a table in the middle of the city, sitting between a stack of sunglasses and DVD cases. He chuckles when he picks it up, noting the uneven stitches and the red places that ought to be gold. It looks a little like a high school home economics project made by an apathetic student, but it’s still undeniably Iron Man and Steve is tickled.

He's not a bird. He's a human. He just likes to be alone.

Tony begins to notice that things are going missing from his workshop... and discovers that his bots have been hiding a very, very big secret from him. Or rather, a very, very small one. In which Dummy is a kleptomaniac, You is painfully shy, Butterfingers is a programming genius, JARVIS is a sarcastic sonofabitch, Pepper takes care of Tony outside of the workshop, Bruce is Tony's boo, Thor is Tony's favourite, Clint is actually kind of smart, Steve has terrible timing, and problem-solving is never simple or easy.

Gyzym's not!fics are addictive, I swear. So here are four more, kinda-sorta in the Bedtime Stories 'verse, but this time with bonus Teen Wolf! The titles are pretty self-explanatory, the links are to the texts on gyzym's tumblr, and I haven't linked to their individual downloads because that made the page really confusing - the files are clearly labelled, so if you don't want one, you can just delete it from the group folder.

Gyzym's not!fics are addictive, I swear. So much so, in fact, that I've done... sixteen more XD Since there are so many of them, I've put streaming in for all of them on my LJ, and all sixteen can be downloaded from the link below. All are rated G except the one marked otherwise

Five times John and Sherlock kissed because of a case and one time they kissed for real.

waking up to ash and dust: Eliot doesn't like hospitals. There are a few reasons for that. like you know i am better than the worst thing i ever did: “I’m goin’ to die for them,” he says to Sophie, before he ever says it to Nate, and it is not a simple statement of fact but a barebones confession, the helpless bleeding of a wound that he was too smart to not know had been made but he’d been putting pressure of for years, hoping that with spit and a prayer that he could make it heal, but he never could, isn’t sure that the stitches that could close that wound have even been invented. “Yes,” she says, “And how long have you known that?”