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marauderundercover · 3 years ago

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The Strings that Bind Us: Ch. 17

Day 17: Carving

AO3

Getting three boys with very different sleep schedules up and ready for an early morning flight is not easy. The entire family stumbles through the airport, barely put together as they make it to the gate just in time. Marinette huffs and turns to Bruce.

“I am never letting you plan our flight again.” She says, eyes narrowed.

“Oh, come on, love, it’s not that bad.” He says. She snorts.

“You’re lucky I love you.” She says, passing both her ticket and Jason’s ticket to the lady. The poor kid was practically sleeping while standing, and she was all but dragging him along. She’d carry him, but he was taller than her now. Growth spurt and all that.

“Maman, tell Dick that he is insufferable.” Damian demands crankily, a scowl on his face. Marinette glances at the shit-eating grin on Dick’s face and sighs.

“Dick, sweetheart, could you refrain from picking on your brother until after I’ve had coffee?” She sighs, helping Jason fasten his seat belt so that he can go back to sleep. She sets a blanket on top of him and kisses the top of his head, satisfied that he would be able to sleep now.

“I swear M, your blood has to be at least 85% coffee at this point.” Dick teases and she grins.

“Darn, guess I’m slacking. Better double my caffeine intake.” She says, snorting at the panicked look on Dick’s face.

“Wait, no-”

“Don’t worry Dick, she’s not actually going to do it.” Bruce says. Marinette raises an eyebrow. “Right?” He adds. Marinette just hums, settling into her own seat next to Bruce, grabbing onto his arm so that she can cuddle him and (hopefully) go back to sleep. She sighs in content as she feels him press a kiss to her head as she drifts off to sleep.

---

The next couple of months fly by, a blur of happy memories. Shortly after getting back from Paris, they manage to adopt Tim (thanks to Adrien, honestly). She also officially moved into the Manor around the time they adopted Tim. It wasn’t a huge change for her or the boys, it just meant she could finally stop forgetting things across town.

Summer zipped by, with first her birthday, then Tim’s, and then Alfred and Jason’s. There was an odd feeling hanging in the air on Jason’s birthday, as if the world was trying to figure out what to do with him. As if it knew he wasn’t supposed to be there. Marinette shoved that feeling away, using a little luck to make it leave the Manor. She didn’t care what the universe thought, her son deserved to be with his family on his fourteenth birthday. He deserved happiness and she’d be damned if she let some balance bullshit try and take that away.

End of summer brought October. Which meant it had almost been a year since Batman crashed onto her balcony. As she stands in the kitchen, grinning at her boys all sitting either at the counter or on the counter, she can’t help but feel extremely lucky. And loved.

“What’s on the agenda for today, M?” Dick asks, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. Marinette grins. The first and third Saturday of every month, Dick had promised to come over and have family time. Usually during the day, it was with his brothers and Marinette. And then a full family dinner in the evening. Slowly, but surely, the strained relationship that Dick and Bruce had had a year ago was healing.

“I was thinking we could carve pumpkins! I’ve never done it before, so I thought you boys could show me.” She suggests, frowning at the near identical winces from the three oldest boys.

“My parents weren’t really the ‘carve pumpkins together’ type.” Tim says softly. Jason nods.

“Yeah, same.”

“We were usually in rehearsals all month, or traveling to a new city. We didn’t really have time to stop and carve pumpkins. Wouldn’t have really had anywhere to keep them anyway.” Dick says.

“Can we use knives?” Damian asks, and despite every fibre of her being telling her to deny her youngest son access to knives, she says yes.

“Of course, minou. But we all need to have patience, because none of us have done this before, so it’s going to take a little bit of trial and error.” She decides before sending them off to get dressed and ready for the day before getting ready herself. She makes sure to dress warmly, as it was starting to get chilly in Gotham once again. A million different possible designs for her pumpkin run through her head. This was probably going to be their most relaxing Saturday in awhile. After all, they were just carving pumpkins. What could go wrong?

---

So much could go wrong. Marinette had her arms wrapped around Jason, trying to keep him from attacking Dick. Damian was attached to her leg, everyone was covered in the disgusting, slimy guts from the inside of their pumpkins and everyone was also screaming.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Dick? That shit is disgusting!” Jason screams, thrashing around to try and get retaliation for the glob of pumpkin that coated his hair.

“Oh, suck it up, Jay. You started it.” Dick retorts, wiping pumpkin off his face.

“This is not enjoyable.” Damian declares, his face twisted with annoyance as he tugs on her pants leg and points to his shirt which was, yup, covered in pumpkin guts. Tim just kept muttering to himself, something about miscalculations, as he stared at his pumpkin covered hands. Marinette was trying, desperately, to gain some form of control over the situation. Before Bruce, or god forbid Alfred, got home. She didn’t want to be banned from the kitchen, but it was looking more and more likely.

“Boys!” She finally yells, raising her voice up so that she can try to be heard over the screaming match between Jason and Dick. Everyone freezes and looks at her. “Okay, now, I understand that this got a little out of control-”

“A little?” Dick snorts, clamping his mouth shut at the look Marinette gives him.

“Anyway, yes, it got a little out of control. And I do not want to be banned from Alfred’s kitchen. Do you know what that would mean?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No more cookies from Maman?” Damian says, and Marinette nods solemnly.

“If I’m banned from the kitchen, I can’t bake here.” She says. As if launched from cannons, the boys jump into clean up, their fight forgotten for the moment. Sighing in relief that it actually worked, Marinette rushes into helping the boys. Once the kitchen was spotless, save for the five new Jack-O-Lanterns on the counter, she sends the boys upstairs to shower and change since they were all still coated in pumpkin guts. Maybe carving pumpkins wasn’t her best idea.

---

Finally making it home an hour before dinner, Bruce frowns at the silence when he walks in. Despite his constant reassurance that she didn’t have to ask, Marinette never used any of the cars without asking. Which meant, in theory, she was still at home with the boys.

“I believe they are all in the theatre, sir.” Alfred says, a small smile on his face as he greets him.

“Thank you, Alfred.” Bruce says, nodding at the man before heading to the theatre. Pushing the door open, his heart warms at the sight. Marinette was sitting in the middle seat of the couch, Jason on one side leaning against her shoulder, and Tim doing the same thing on the other side. Damian was on her lap, and Dick was sitting on the floor leaning against the couch so that he was still close to everyone else. And they were all asleep. Bruce grins, pulling out his phone and snapping a quick picture. He knew Marinette would love it. The ring that he had hidden upstairs suddenly pops into his mind, but he pushes the thought away. They had plenty of time, there was no sense in rushing into things.

“Hey.” Marinette says softly, grinning at him. He smiles back.

“Did I wake you?” He asks, keeping his voice soft to avoid waking up the boys.

“I wasn’t really asleep. Just...resting. It felt too peaceful to try and actually pay attention to the movie.” She admits,

“Would you like me to leave you until dinner, then?” He asks, suppressing a snort at the pout that immediately appears on her face.

“No. I want you to join us.” She says. Bruce scans the couch and his family, trying to figure out the best way to do it without waking someone up. Taking a deep breath, he somehow manages to shift everyone so that Marinette is in his lap, and the boys (minus Damian, who was still clutching onto Marinette) were leaning against him.

“How long can we stay like this?” Marinette asks.

“We have an hour until dinner.” Bruce says, and Marinette nods, cuddling against him. Try as he might, Bruce can’t stop his eyes from fluttering shut, feeling completely at peace. Taking in a deep breath, he lets himself drift to a light sleep. --- BONUS Alfred glanced at the picture on his desk, smiling softly at it. It was his new favorite picture, and once Master Bruce finally gave Miss Marinette the ring, he would pass along a copy of the picture. After all, it was their first family picture.

Tag list: @maribat-october-rarepairs @ashbrea381writings @jayjayspixiepop @toodaloo-kangaroo @galla02006 @ritacrow-blog @liquid-luck-00 @corporeal-terrestrial @crazylittlemunchkin @tazanna-blythe

Permanent tag list: @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess @kking13

#maribat #maribat fic #MaribatHalloween21 #maribatoctrp21 #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat bruce wayne #maribat damian wayne #maribat dick grayson #maribat tim drake #maribat jason todd #platonic timari #platonic jasonette #platonic daminette #platonic dickinette #brucinette #mominette

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all-things-fic · 4 years ago

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Stand and Deliver

A/N: This is probably the quickest I’ve ever written something in the longest time and was a nice interlude from the piece I’m preparing for this weekend. I picked one prompt of number 14 “I can’t say away from you”.

Massive love to Anne @oh-honey-styles for putting this one together.

This is a little blurb of Harry on your doorstep, giving in and putting out.

~*~

He could still hear your voice. The way you’d offered him a nightcap in your London townhouse. Hopeful tone with an edge of something he couldn’t quite explain.

As he sat, car still idling outside on the deserted London street that held your home, he rubbed his hands harshly down his face and dropped his head back against the headrest behind him.

Did he want to come in? Of course, he fucking did.

You had to know that too. Surely.

From the pucker of his lips against your hand as he lifted it to his mouth while waiting for the light to turn green; to the way his hand hadn’t left your thigh through the entire evening of dinner and drinks.

He had become quite the master at cutting his food with only the edge of his fork. Casting glances your way as you engaged in conversation with others around the dining table. Willing you to turn your energy to him, to spoil him and only have eyes for him.

Cause his glances had been woven with unbridled lust, that he thought had gone unnoticed by you. Yet, your request just ten minutes prior told him otherwise.

But still he’d declined. Politely.

This breathy chuckle had left his throat around his words, because while his mouth was respectful the thoughts clouding his mind were anything but.

He remembered your blush, only visible to him thanks to his interior car light. The way you had brushed your hair behind your ear and barely muttered your soft, “oh.”

How had you gotten it so wrong?

His touch had been tactile. His eyes, unyielding.

The kiss the two of you had shared in the dark car park before he finally drove you away into the inky night - one that left your lips searing in one second and lifting innocently in the next - as you hit the next set of traffic lights and your thumbs brushed away the rouge staining you left upon him.

All the signs had been there in him wanting to. In you matching him and longing for it too.

Just two consensual adults.

With his head lolled to the side now, he eyed your front door. The downstairs light was still on, faintly giving him a blurred image of you moving around between your kitchen and your living room, letting him know you hadn’t made a move to go to bed just yet.

Keys snatched from the ignition, Harry let the drivers door fling open onto the street. A groan omitted from his throat as he dragged himself out of the car and slammed the door shut.

Dress shoes hit the pavement mockingly beneath his feet, because he had prided himself on being a man of his word.

Had.

The night was cold, blowing into his hands to warm them. Harry tugged on the lapels of his suit jacket to sort himself out.

The light in the hallway showed him to you from inside the warmth of your home. The rapt of his knuckles against your glass caused you to pause your hand before it could pour his nightcap offering.

Through the mottled glass he was nothing more than an abstract shape. An abstract shape that caused a nervous sensation in the pit of your stomach.

Bare feet met the black and white tiles of your hallway from your kitchen, shiver shooting through you from how cold they were. You tried to ignore the shake to your hand as it raised to the handle, lingering longer than you wanted to, not needing to second guess yourself but wanting him to wait that little bit longer.

His back faced you as you opened the door, his head turning to look at you from over his left shoulder as he heard the giving way of your door latch. These owlish eyes and innocent face were peering around the front door as you leaned against the wood and watched him lazily set his eyes on you.

“‘S cold in m’ car.”

And part of you knew you shouldn’t give in. But how could you resist the croak of his tone at the way the cold had gone straight to his chest.

Hand reaching out, palm facing up he almost tripped up your doorstep as he placed his larger hand in your much smaller one. Embarrassed grin slid onto his lips as he looked at you with sheepish eyes knowing his clumsiness hadn’t gone unnoticed.

The clink of his keys as they were thrown into the ceramic pot next to your door - like usual - had you releasing a familiarly contented sigh. His eyes caught yours in the mirror that sat above the hall side table, and you confidently held his gaze.

“‘M parked on a double yellow,” he let you know.

“Well then, better make it quick.”

He propelled himself forward, hands rushing as he fumbled to get you in a decent hold. His hand slid across your jaw and underneath your hair as he cupped at the back of your neck.

You clung to the lapels of his jacket, as your hooded eyes peered up at him. His mouth hovered over yours, green eyes speaking words and seeking approvals that his lips couldn’t bring themselves to utter.

The warmth of your breath mixed with his, as his chest felt tight when he leaned forward and brushed his lips over yours. One, two, three times he enticed, his tongue finding yours as you entwined your arms around the back of his neck to anchor yourself to him.

And as you pulled him down to you with a strong tug, the extra weight had the door beneath you pushing shut, the noise of the catch abrupt against both your ears as you remained fixated on each other.

The sound ignited an urgency between you both that had yet to be felt. His hands were back to grabbing, fingers digging as they slid down the back of your night robe.

Harry’s movements were rushed as he hoisted you up, legs wrapping around his narrow hips so easily. He pressed his pelvis against you as he leaned his chest back.

The gap allowed your hands to ruck up his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers before making quick work of the fastening at the front. The zip gave way to your movements, easily, as the sound caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

Your forehead fell against his jawline with a low gasp when you came to realise he was completely naked underneath the expensive outer garment that covered his lower half.

“Mm,” he hummed, nudging his nose at your temple when you found yourself bold enough to brush your hand from around the back of the trouser waistband to the front.

His moan was honeyed, his breath shaky as you didn’t waste time in teasing him. He was pulsing and hot, and had been since you mentioned the idea of him coming inside.

He sighed when your hands ran inside the fabric of his trousers, pushing them down and over his bum and enjoying the tight cut and the way they sat against his stronger and muscular thighs.

As the cold of the hallway enveloped his hard cock, Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

He was smooth, and firm. Hard enough, but likely to get harder if you played with him a bit and guided him and his leaking tip into you.

“Wha’ you gonna do wi’me?” He soothed, his voice rumbling in his chest. “‘S a funny nightcap this, darlin’. Eh?”

His hand tilted your head back, brushing hair off your forehead and frowning at the soft bump of your head against the wooden door.

“Careful.”

It was whispered and held weight. Too much for a quick fumble as he stood proud between the two of you, wet and ready.

Your chest heaved as you pushed your hips into his and the movement created a space between your hips and the door. Not enough that it didn’t mean you wouldn’t be causing it to rattle and shake some time soon, but enough so it allowed him the opportunity to slide his hands to cup your buttocks.

Harry’s eyes dropped now, as he looked between the both of you and felt the way he glided against your glistening wet warmth. You moaned in unison with him as his tip bumped your clit.

“Take me,” he urged, wantonly. “Put me in.”

His lulls of encouragement had you sliding a hand between your bodies, both sets of eyes watching as your hand gently guided him to your entrance.

Tip now brushing your wetness with purpose, he bit away his fulfilled and triumphant smile as he watched the quirk of your lips when you let your head fall back once more.

Snug.

Satisfied.

Sexy.

You held him in you as he felt you around him. Drawing him closer with a silkiness that he happily surrendered to.

His body shook as he held you, legs holding strong and arms determined to do so too. His chuckle was deep and tapered off into a pleasurable groan as he bottomed out and held you against the door with mainly his hips.

“Took me deep,” his voice choked in disbelief, breathing heavily as his mouth pressed to your cheek. The two of you were still as you enjoyed the sensation that you had created.

He swore this was the deepest you have ever taken him. His balls heavily pressed against you. And he smiled at the thought, but he dare not move, regardless of the press of the heels of your feet to his bare bum.

Yet when he did, he only gave your little nudges first. Grinds that don’t give you the desired audible sound of him shagging you. That was until he did. His rhythm building with each thrust until he snapped forward with enough drive that you were keening breathily at him to ‘do it again.’

And the doors began to rattle, the dull thud created by you both causing you to breathily laugh around the kiss you were sharing.

“I can’t stay away from you,” he admitted, mouthing at the corner of your lips and your smile.’“Don’t know why I’m trying to.”

“Stop trying,” you told him.

#harry styles #HSFICSLAM #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry smut #harry styles blurb #harry blurb

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years ago

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Hiiii, so I decided to continue my combing through the books for random specific Everlark related content series. This one is Katniss and Peeta taking care of each other. This is Part One and only includes stuff from the first book because it was getting too long. 😭😅. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy.

I gently unzip his jacket, unbutton his shirt and ease them off him. His undershirt is so plastered into his wounds I have to cut it away with my knife and drench him again to work it loose. He’s badly bruised with a long burn across his chest and four tracker jacker stings, if you count the one under his ear. But I feel a bit better. This much I can fix. I decide to take care of his upper body first, to alleviate some pain, before I tackle whatever damage Cato did to his leg.

Since treating his wounds seems pointless when he’s lying in what’s become a mud puddle, I manage to prop him up against a boulder. He sits there, uncomplaining, while I wash away all the traces of dirt from his hair and skin. His flesh is very pale in the sunlight and he no longer looks strong and stocky. I have to dig the stingers out of his tracker jacker lumps, which causes him to wince, but the minute I apply the leaves he sighs in relief. While he dries in the sun, I wash his filthy shirt and jacket and spread them over boulders. Then I apply the burn cream to his chest. This is when I notice how hot his skin is becoming. The layer of mud and the bottles of water have disguised the fact that he’s burning with fever. I dig through the first-aid kit I got from the boy from District 1 and find pills that reduce your temperature.

“Swallow these,” I tell him, and he obediently takes the medicine. “You must be hungry.”

“Not really. It’s funny, I haven’t been hungry for days,” says Peeta. In fact, when I offer him groosling, he wrinkles his nose at it and turns away. That’s when I know how sick he is.

“Peeta, we need to get some food in you,” I insist.

“It’ll just come right back up,” he says. The best I can do is to get him to eat a few bits of dried apple. “Thanks. I’m much better, really. Can I sleep now, Katniss?” he asks.

“Soon,” I promise. “I need to look at your leg first.” Trying to be as gentle as I can, I remove his boots, his socks, and then very slowly inch his pants off of him.

I scoot my square of plastic under him so I can wash down the rest of him. With each bottle I pour over him, the worse the wound looks. The rest of his lower body has fared pretty well, just one tracker jacker sting and a few small burns that I treat quickly. But the gash on his leg . . . what on earth can I do for that?

I know the tracker jacker leaves draw out infection, so I start with those. Within minutes of pressing the handful of chewed-up green stuff into the wound, pus begins running down the side of his leg.

“What next, Dr. Everdeen?” he asks.

“Maybe I’ll put some of the burn ointment on it. I think it helps with infection anyway. And wrap it up?” I say. I do and the whole thing seems a lot more manageable, covered in clean white cotton.

I help him dress, leaving his feet bare so we can walk in the water, and pull him upright. His face drains of color the moment he puts weight on his leg. “Come on. You can do this.”

But he can’t. Not for long anyway. We make it about fifty yards downstream, with him propped up by my shoulder, and I can tell he’s going to black out. I sit him on the bank, push his head between his knees, and pat his back awkwardly as I survey the area.

When Peeta’s able to stand, I half-guide, half-carry him up to the cave. Really, I’d like to look around for a better place, but this one will have to do because my ally is shot. Paper white, panting, and, even though it’s only just cooling off, he’s shivering.

I cover the floor of the cave with a layer of pine needles, unroll my sleeping bag, and tuck him into it. I get a couple of pills and some water into him when he’s not noticing, but he refuses to eat even the fruit. Then he just lies there, his eyes trained on my face as I build a sort of blind out of vines to conceal the mouth of the cave.

I check his forehead and find it burning and dry. I don’t know what to do. Leave him in the bag and hope the excessive heat breaks the fever? Take him out and hope the night air cools him off? I end up just dampening a strip of bandage and placing it on his forehead.

I spend the night half-sitting, half-lying next to Peeta, refreshing the bandage.

Peeta sits beside me, leaning against the wall, his bad leg stretched out before him, his eyes trained on the world outside. “Go to sleep,” he says softly. His hand brushes the loose strands of my hair off my forehead. Unlike the staged kisses and caresses so far, this gesture seems natural and comforting. I don’t want him to stop and he doesn’t. He’s still stroking my hair when I fall asleep.

I give him more fever pills and stand over him while he drinks first one, then a second quart of water. Then I tend to his minor wounds, the burns, the stings, which are showing improvement.

Peeta’s stretched out on top of the sleeping bag in the shade of the rocks. Although he brightens a bit when I come in, it’s clear he feels miserable. I put cool cloths on his head, but they warm up almost as soon as they touch his skin.

I sit back on my heels and look at him with a mixture of sadness and satisfaction. A stray berry stains his chin and I wipe it away. “Who can’t lie, Peeta?” I say, even though he can’t hear me.

I gingerly lift my hand to my head and find it bandaged. This simple gesture leaves me weak and dizzy. Peeta holds a bottle to my lips and I drink thirstily.

He doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment, he’s all gentleness.

“You need to eat. I’ll go hunting soon,” I say.

“Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.”

Peeta feeds me bites of groosling and raisins and makes me drink plenty of water. He rubs some warmth back into my feet and wraps them in his jacket before tucking the sleeping bag back up around my chin.

Rain drips through several holes in the ceiling, but Peeta has built a sort of canopy over my head and upper body by wedging the square of plastic into the rocks above me.

“I think your wound is bleeding again. Come on, lie down, it’s bedtime anyway,” he says.

My socks are dry enough to wear now. I make Peeta put his jacket back on. The damp cold seems to cut right down to my bones, so he must be half frozen. I insist on taking the first watch, too, although neither of us think it’s likely anyone will come in this weather. But he won’t agree unless I’m in the bag, too, and I’m shivering so hard that it’s pointless to object. In stark contrast to two nights ago, when I felt Peeta was a million miles away, I’m struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe.

I set a good dinner out, but halfway through Peeta begins to nod off. After days of inactivity, the hunt has taken its toll. I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so grateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought.

Although I’m shaking in the biting wind, I rip off my jacket, remove my shirt, and zip back into the jacket as swiftly as possible. That brief exposure sets my teeth chattering beyond control.

Peeta’s face is gray in the pale moonlight. I make him lie down before I probe his wound. Warm, slippery blood runs over my fingers. A bandage will not be enough. I’ve seen my mother tie a tourniquet a handful of times and try to replicate it. I cut free a sleeve from my shirt, wrap it twice around his leg just under his knee, and tie a half knot. I don’t have a stick, so I take my remaining arrow and insert it in the knot, twisting it as tightly as I dare. It’s risky business — Peeta may end up losing his leg — but when I weigh this against him losing his life, what alternative do I have? I bandage the wound in the rest of my shirt and lie down with him.

“Are you cold?” he asks. He unzips his jacket and I press against him as he fastens it around me. It’s a bit warmer, sharing our body heat inside my double layer of jackets, but the night is young. The temperature will continue to drop. Even now I can feel the Cornucopia, which burned so when I first climbed it, slowly turning to ice.

“Cato may win this thing yet,” I whisper to Peeta.

“Don’t you believe it,” he says, pulling up my hood, but he’s shaking harder than I am.

Somehow, we make it back to the lake. I scoop up a handful of the cold water for Peeta and bring a second to my lips.

The hovercraft materializes overhead and two ladders drop, only there’s no way I’m letting go of Peeta. I keep one arm around him as I help him up, and we each place a foot on the first rung of the ladder.

“It’s my fault,” I say. “Because I used that tourniquet.”

“Yes, it’s your fault I’m alive,” says Peeta.

“He’s right,” says Caesar. “He’d have bled to death for sure without it.”

I guess this is true, but I can’t help feeling upset about it to the extent that I’m afraid I might cry and then I remember everyone in the country is watching me so I just bury my face in Peeta’s shirt. It takes them a couple of minutes to coax me back out because it’s better in the shirt, where no one can see me, and when I do come out, Caesar backs off questioning me so I can recover.

#everlark #thg #hunger games #Peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #honestly they’re so cute both little caretakers #also love that Katniss is just constantly like let me feed you more medicine and food #and Peeta is concerned with wrapping her up and keeping her warm #hmmm wonder if that has any individual character significance for each other them #each of them I meant #sorry long post y’all #I tried to cut it down I did I just didn’t wanna miss anything which i doubtlessly did anyway #also this whole thing is making me wonder where is their toilet???? where are they peeing all this water they’re making each other drink????#bookcomb ♥️🔎

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kpop-sports-books-series-fangirl · 3 years ago

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PJO/HOO - You meet for the second time

Masterlist

Request form and prompt list

(F/S) means Favourite sport

Will -

You were sitting at home, your (non-godly parent) had gone out somewhere, so you were alone. You were on the couch, scrolling through your phone, with your favorite blanket and with music blaring through your speakers.

Suddenly instead of playing the next song, your ringtone started playing through the speakers. You checked who it was and it was a random number, but you picked it up. “Hello?” you asked. “Hello? Is this (Y/N)?” they asked. “Who’s asking?” you asked back. “It’s Will,” he replied. “Oh, from the mall?” “Yeah...” “So, are you back in town again?” you asked hopefully.

“Um, yeah, I was hoping you could show me around,” he said nervously. You met up in a park near the house and you showed him around and just talked. Soon, you realize that your (non-godly parent) is going to come home.

You bid Will goodbye and ran back home to set up the place before your (non-godly parent) came home.

Nico -

You were getting scolded by your (non-godly parent) for throwing a sleepover without letting them know when you heard a knocking on your window. You looked outside to see the boy from that night. He was waving his hand frantically telling you to come out, but you ignored him and continued to listen to your (non-godly parent).

Later that night, when you had gotten ready for bed, you thought you heard a noise in your room, but when you looked, there was nothing, so you just ignored it. Just when you got into bed, a hand clamped over your mouth. You tried to scream, but the face of the boy from earlier came into view.

You tried to thrash, but he was too strong. Suddenly you felt this weird sensation in your stomach and when you opened your eyes, you were in a different room. As soon as the hand let go of your mouth, you screamed really loud.

You looked around the room and saw an old dude in a wheelchair. He winced at your loudness. “Nico, how many times should I tell you that when you bring the demi-gods, don’t scare the life out of them!” the old man said. He then turned to you and said “Hello, my dear, I’m Chiron,”

Percy -

You went to the beach again, the next week hoping to meet Percy again. You went on the same day at the same time, but he wasn’t there, so you just decided to enjoy your evening. You walked along the water for a while, before changing into your swimsuit and jumping into the ocean.

After a while you decided it was time to go home, so you wrapped the towel around yourself as you made your way to the washroom to change. After you got back into normal clothes, you started to walk back home. About halfway there, you felt someone tap your shoulder and you suddenly got into a defensive position in case someone was attacking you.

That ‘someone’ held up his hands and laughed. “Hey, it’s just me,” You looked carefully and saw that it was Percy. “Oh, sorry, you just scared me,” you tell him. You talked while he walked you back home. You exchanged phone numbers so you could talk later on as well and then he had to go.

Frank -

After that day, you couldn’t stop thinking about Frank. But you forced your mind off him, to focus on your studies. You are in the 10th grade and you are studying for your end-of-term exams.

(Your non-godly parent) has stopped all your social media accounts for the time being, including quotev (A/N: just had to add it 😜), youtube, and many others.

One day after school, (F/S) practice and all your after school clubs, you are walking home when you think you see someone following you. You take the route towards the park, trying to formulate a plan of what to do. That’s when you realize that the park is closed and it is one of the most unsafe places in your neighborhood.

Without stopping, you open your bag and take out your steel water bottle in case you need to protect yourself. You feel the person getting closer to you, so you turn around, swinging your bottle at the person's head.

You hear a loud ‘DINGGG’ as the bottle comes in contact with their head. They double over, and before you take off, you recognize that mop of black hair. It takes you a second to realize that this was Frank.

“What the hell!?” You shout at him. “You scared me half to death!” Then you remember what you did. “Oh no, are you okay!?” you ask as you approach him slowly. He holds up a hand. When he looks up at you, you see a huge gash on his forehead. You gasp, surprised.

“My house is nearby, we can take a look at that cut there,” You say as you grab his hand and guide him to your house. You opened the little zip of your bag, taking out your house key and throwing open the door.

You drop your bag near the door with a ‘thud’ and drag Frank into the living room. You sit him down on the couch and shush him when he opens his mouth to say something. You grab the first-aid kit from the cupboard.

As you apply the antiseptic to the wound, you apologize to him. “I am so sorry! I didn’t know it was you! Then again, why were you following me in the first place?!” You continue to ramble as you paste a bandage on it. Once you are done, you look down into his brown eyes.

“Can I speak now?” He asks, amused. You glare at him before nodding and tearing your eyes away from his, focusing on cleaning the mess of bandages on the floor.

As you put the unutilized plasters and cotton back in the box, you try not to look up at Frank as you know, if you look in his eyes, you will never be able to look away again, and that would be embarrassing.

“Well, I saw you walking on the road, so I decided to give you a little scare,” he explains.

“Yeah, you should never do that,” You tell him. “Seems I learned that the hard way,”

You both sit there and talk until it hits you that you have a history test tomorrow. It was going to be on Greek and Roman mythology (A/N:*gasp!* What a coincidence!). When you tell Frank this, he announces that he is an expert in Greek and Roman mythology.

Your (non-godly parent) is out of town for a few days so he stays over and helps you study, though it isn’t easy concentrating on your textbook with Frank staring at you the whole time.

Let’s say, you ace the test!

Jason -

You are now boarded on the plane and despite the excitement, fall asleep, fulfilling the hours you missed the previous night.

When you stir awake, you see your (non-godly parent) is still asleep, so you turn to the other side to see Jason from earlier. “Oh, hi!” you say. “Hi, again,” he replies.

“Guess I’m headed to Manhattan too,” you say as you reach down to your bag and take out a water bottle. “Yeah,” he says. Well, this is getting awkward, you think.

Taking a sip from your bottle, you look up at him again. “So...wanna play something?” You ask him, your childish side taking over. “Sure, what though?” “Um...maybe a game where we ask each other questions? Get to know each other better?” “Um, okay...”

-Time skip-

“Please fasten your seatbelts, the plane will be landing in 15 minutes,” the speaker announced. You and Jason had been talking the entire time, about the most random things like music, T.V. shows, movies, books, people, life, and everything possible.

You wanted to ask him for his number, but it would be a bit awkward. Like are you just supposed to walk up to him and say ‘hey can I have your number?’ wait. That isn’t so bad…

“Jason, can I have your number? Just to talk once in a while, it was fun...” you say as you wait for the crowd in the plane to clear as everyone gets off. “I would give you my number, but I don’t have a phone..” he tells you. “Oh, well, here’s my number, call whenever you can!” You say taking out a pen and asking him if you could write it on his hand.

Leo -

Rrring! Rrring! You hear from your bag. Your eyes widen as you know it’s your phone. “(L/N)!” your teacher calls you out. “Phone!” she holds out her hand as you hand her your phone. “Detention after school today!”

“But ma’am! I have (F/S) practice today after school!” You complain. “Well, you’ll just have to skip it for today,” Well shit. Your coach was going to kill you, especially with a match coming up on the weekend!

You were going to kill whoever called you.

-Time skip-

After school, detention, and shouting from your coach, you were headed to get your phone back from the principal's office. You knock on the door. “Come in!” A voice calls. “Ma’am, I’ve come to collect my phone,” “Here you are, but you should know, you have to keep your phone on silent during the classes,” “Yes ma’am, sorry, it won’t happen again,”

Sighing, you switch on your phone as you head to the exit of the school building. You checked your notifications to see you had like 6 missed calls from an unknown number.

Your phone starts ringing again, suddenly, surprising you. You gripped it tightly before it slipped out of your hands. It was an unknown number, a different one this time. This is getting creepy, but you pick up the call and place the phone on your ear.

“H-hello?” You stutter into the phone. “Hello? Is this (Y/N)?” the other voice asks. “Who is this?” you ask. “Leo. The one who fixed your cycle?” he says. “Leo? You know, when I told you to call, I didn’t mean in the middle of the day! I was in class when my phone rang! I got detention and had to skip my practice! Do you know how mad my coach was-!” you were cut off by Leo. “Hey! Hey! I’m sorry for getting you in trouble, but I desperately need your help!”

“Why should I help you?” “Because you owe me one?” “Yeah, but you got me in trouble!” “Please (Y/N!)! I really need your help!” Leo says. For the first time, you notice how desperate he sounds.

“Okay. What do you need?” You ask him. “I and my friends need someplace to crash just for a few hours,” “Wait, are you and your ‘friends’ drunk?!” you almost shriek, scaring the guard who is standing at the entrance gate.

“No! I can’t- just, can I tell you after?” you take a deep breath before looking around and saying “Okay, my (non-godly parent) is out of town, so you can stay at my house for the night, I live at _____.”

“Thank you!” He cuts the call. You stare at the phone, shocked at what you just did.

When you reach home, Leo and his friends are not there yet, so you go in and start cleaning up the space a little. Picking up clothes, making the living room presentable. Your (non-godly parent) hasn’t been home for a few days, so you didn’t care what you did to the house.

Ding dong! You head to the door and take a deep breath before opening the door to reveal Leo, a girl and a boy both, your age. “Come in,” you say timidly.

Once they are on the couch, you turn to Leo, put your hands on your hips, and ask “Care to explain?” with raised eyebrows.

Travis -

You are stressed out. The list of things that you have to complete is only getting longer. All your responsibilities weigh you down. You need a break, just to get some fresh air.

You decide to take a walk to clear your head. Your legs lead you to the park. You sit down on the same bench as you observe the kids play, so carefree, burdenless, no responsibilities. Oh, how you wish you were like them.

This brought tears to your eyes. You just want a break, just one day, just forget about all that work, waiting back at home. You have to complete everything on time, submit all the work, no time for doing what you want.

You hug yourself and move your hands up and down, comforting yourself.

“Hey, you okay?” you hear a voice ask. You sit up quickly and wipe your tears. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” you say. You look up to see it’s Travis. “Oh, hi, Travis, right?” You confirm, knowing fully well that it could be his brother. “Yup, not Connor,” You send him a little smile.

“Running from him again?” you ask, teasingly. “Haha,” he replies smiling. “Can I sit there?” he asks pointing to the empty space on the bench next to you. You nod, letting him know it’s fine. He takes his seat.

“So, what’s all the crying about?” he asks. “Nothing,” “Oh come on! You don’t cry just for nothing!” “Some people do. When they can’t take the stress anymore about everything in life and they just break down but don’t have a reason to explain it,” “So, life’s stressing you out?” he asks. “That’s not what I said!” “Yeah, you did!” “Did not!” “Did too!” “Nope, did not,” “Okay, whatever! You still need cheering up! Come!” he says as he grabs your hand and drags you from the park.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask him. “I’m not telling you!” “You know how creepy that sounds to me right? You could be kidnapping me for all I know! I mean, I could use a little enjoyment in my life, but I don’t mean this!” while you were busy rambling, Travis had dragged you to a dark alley.

“Travis...where are we?” you ask, starting to get scared. “Watch this,” he says as he walks to the far end of the wall, and presses one brick, which causes a door to open in the wall.

You are closer to the entrance and you can see on the other side it’s an open field. Mesmerized, you walk over, through the door. You feel a tap on your shoulder, followed by a “You’re it!” and Travis running away from you.

You smile and take off after him. After a while of you both running back and forth, you lie down in the grass, Travis next to you. You relax for a while before you realize the time and jump up.

“I have to go!” you say as you run back out the door.

Connor -

You are bored. All of your friends are doing...stuff, and you are sitting here doing nothing. It is your day off from work. You decide to clean your room.

You pick up the pile of clothes in the corner and head down to the laundry room. Before you dump the laundry in the washing machine you go through all the pockets as you usually forget things in them.

All in all, you found your earphones which you’d been looking for since almost a week now (A/N: I actually wouldn’t survive that long without my earphones!), a folded piece of paper, your rubber band, a pencil (don’t ask), and a paperclip.

You put all the objects in your pocket of the jacket you’re wearing, thinking you’ll take it out later before you unfold the piece of paper to see if it’s something important.

It was the note the guy left, Connor.

You are free, have nothing to do. How bad could this guy be?

You pick up your phone and dial the number, and it rings a few times before a girl picks up, “Hello?” she sounds perplexed. “Um...hi, Connor told me to call this number....” “Connor! Oh, I’m gonna kill him!”

On the other end of the line, you heard an “Oooh! Is it for me?” followed by an ‘umph!’ and a “Catch me if you can!”

You are too confused about what was happening, and are about to put the phone down when someone says “Hello? Who is this?”

“Hi, is this Connor?” “Yeah, who is this?” “This is (Y/N), the girl from the ice cream shop,” “Oh yeah! I actually didn’t expect you to call!” “Yeah, well, I’m bored and I have nothing to do, so if you’re free, wanna hang?” “Sure…? Where do you want to meet up?” “Outside the Ice cream shop?” “Sure, I’ll see you there,”

-Time skip-

You are waiting outside the ice cream shop for Connor. A few minutes later, you see a hooded figure walking towards you. You turn away and start walking away when you hear “(Y/N)!?” You turn around and see it’s Connor.

“Oh, hi! You scared me,” you tell him. “Yeah, sorry. So, what do you want to do?” “Hang out?” “Ok….no. How about we prank people on the beach?” “Ok, but what prank?” “Replacing their sunscreens with mustard?” “Let’s go buy some mustard then!”

You guys spent all evening replacing people’s things, and getting caught by the cops, and escaping. Calling Connor, was the best decision you have ever made.

A/N: Hey guys!! The next part is out!! I'll link the first part below. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

-TheBlueBookworm is out~~!!!

#percy jackson #pjo preferences #percy jackson x reader #pjo fanfic #nico di angelo #jason grace #luke castellan #travis stoll #connor stoll #will solace #frank zhang

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matt-patto · 3 years ago

Photo

Fashion and Textile Museum. London. December 2021.

Exhibition on 1960′s Counter Culture.

#1 ‘UFO poster designed by Michael English marking the end of Pink Floyd's reign as the house band and their replacement in the role by Soft Machine.’

#2 ‘Evetitg Suit Black. Zip-front evening jacket with Nehru collar and matching trousers. When Blades first opened in Dover Street it adopted the slogan 'For today rather than a memory of yesterday' and soon became known for its bespoke suits that combined traditional Savile Row tailoring. The shop attracted much publicity by staging the first ever men's fashion show in Savile Row in 1967. 1968, Wool.’

#3 ‘Pale lemon single-breasted suit with blue lining and three pockets. In 1966, Town magazine observed that Hung On You clothes were 'simple and uncluttered' with emphasis placed on colour. This suit originally belonged to Nigel Lesmoir-Gordon. 1965-67, Silk mix.’

#4 (left) ‘Three-piece slate bespoke blue suit with narrow black pinstripes. The fitted Regency-style jacket has a blue silk lining, a turndown collar and two pockets. 1968-69, Wool.’ (right) ‘Double-breasted suit with wide apes. In 1968 the Beatles went into partnership with John Crittle, the owner of Dandie Fashions to create Apple Tailoring (Civil and Theatrical). 1968-69, Wool.’

#5 (left) ‘Regency-style, double-breasted black suit with red silk lining. It was 'Beau' Brummell (1778- 1840 who set the fashion for the British dandy during the mid-1790s Regency period. 1968-69, Wool.’ (right) ‘The silk-lined jacket is gently fitted at the waist and fastens with a row of six small buttons. Cream and white suits have been fashionable summer wear since the late nineteenth century and became very popular once again in the 1960s. 1969, linen.’

#6 ‘Cream satin minidress with neckline frill. The ties on the wide flared sleeves create a Grecian-style effect. A selection of Ossie Clark's Quorum pieces was sold in the iconic Chelsea Drug Store at 49 King's Road, and were featured in a fashion shoot in Vogue in September 1968: 'Reflected in the Chelsea Drug Store's marvellous metal walls, slippery satin transformed by Ossie Clark. Pearl white, plain or printed with a thousand green stars in a trellis of triangles!' Late 1960s, Satin.’

#7 ‘Twiggy, the face of 1966, and her manager Justin de Vileneuve Photograph by Peter Akehurst for London Life magazine, 22 October 1966.’

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holonetnews · 3 years ago

Text

In spite of its critical acclaim, its visceral action, its enthralling plotline and enchantingly beautiful holostars — Hyperspeed Hatred II: Coronet Drift failed to put an end to Deena Tharen’s restlessness. Tossing and turning in her bed as the Holodrama flickered on her larger-than-life viewer, she tried to put at ease her stirring thoughts. It was not to be.

Sighing in defeat, she slipped from the warm embrace of her linen and resigned herself to the reality of another sleepless night.

She threw on the crumpled clothes that rested on the floor by her bed, and haphazardly fastened her boots around aching ankles. Deena stole a last glance at the holodrama as she tied back her hair, and then set out down the hallway, leaving behind the adrenaline-fueled fictional world of Coronet Drift. After grabbing her jacket from its place, she set out.

The crisp night air that rushed over her as she alighted the turbolift was a welcome relief from the stuffy heat of her apartment. The winter festivals were fast approaching now, and the weather outside slowly changing to suit. The heels of her boots clacked out a percussive rhythm on the frostbitten duracrete, each footfall echoing between the myriad of artificial structures that were ubiquitous in the Imperial City.

A squad of stormtroopers, their white armour glistening under the streetlights, marched past her in complete silence - a reminder that the Empire never slept, and it never stopped.

To her chagrin, it was oddly comforting.

Under Imperial Rule, at least on Coruscant, evening crime had been dramatically reduced. With several patrols of fully armed stormtroopers never too far away, the sort of crimes that had once been a genuine concern for many had been reduced to nothing more than a mere memory.

In retrospect, Palpatine had indisputably delivered on his promise of a ‘safe and secure society.’ — It just wasn’t exactly the one anyone had envisaged.

Drawing her jacket around her, Deena marched through the beating sleet, which was illuminated in an unnatural orange hue by the ever present neon glow of Coruscant’s lights. Though more muted now than ever before, not even the Empire had managed to quash holo-advertising.

She passed a shuttered Tapcaf, and after a quick double-take, she realised that it was an establishment she had visited before. With Alsaine... It seemed like a lifetime ago. An alternate reality, even.

They’d walked down this same street, through the falling snow, the heat of the mugs of hoth chocolate they’d clasped scalding their hands, the voices and songs of revellers carrying over the sound of the zipping speeders and bustling gift-hunters.

She wondered what had happened to Alsaine. She had disappeared seemingly overnight on the day the Empire had came to be. Was she ok? Was she alive? ... Was she happy? Not that Allie had been the only Holoreporter to vanish. Gaff Rhel Gaian, and Miria Daraay... She hadn’t heard a word from any of them since.

Deena shook her head and sighed. Though she didn’t miss the Clone War, she missed those she’d shouldered those uncertain times with. Friends and acquaintances alike. Alsaine, Fordo, Rush, heck - even Captain Maze, with his decidedly gruff and unsympathetic demeanour - any of their company would have been a welcome respite from the grey-duracrete existence she currently trudged through.

#HNN: Drabbles #(Untitled Garbage? Oh yes!)#(You bet!)

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years ago

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Love Lessons

Reader x Caesar Gattuso Fluff, 8 pages of it written by a trash panda.

This is an AU where Nono doesn’t exist. Or as I like to call it, the NONONO AU.

“So do you have a boyfriend yet?”

Your shoulders lift in an impatient sigh and you lower the bow in your hands. “No…”

“Why not?”

The sky was painted blue and white over the College Cassell. You were supposed to be practicing archery, your new elective. Caesar Gattuso was an assistant in this class so all the girls enrolled. By the time Caesar finished standing behind them, his strong hands adjusting their shoulders and back and elbow positions, they could hardly shoot straight. You practiced more seriously of course and that’s why you were out here in the late afternoon hours, getting a good feel for your steady hand. So you rarely needed help with the rank basics.

“The guys here… they make me nervous. It’s obvious they just want one thing. It’s gross.”

“And you don’t want that thing?” Caesar asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh shut up. It’s not that I don’t…” You’re silent, recalling each student who approached you, acting interested in studying or movies or physical training. But you couldn’t relax around them because any semblance of acceptance would lead to a phone number being left in a book or on a table. It was never straight forward. You would throw the number away and suddenly they weren't interested in you any more. Or there was that one guy who just kept talking and asking personal questions. What’s your schedule? What classes are you taking? Which dorm are you in? Even though you shook your head and never made eye contact he never went away.

You lift the bow. To bend it required pounds of force and your strong arms swelled in relief as you aimed your arrow. You let it go and it zips right into the target. You lower the bow again.

Caesar glances at you from the corner of his blue eyes. “Let me guess. They’re cowards. And they disgust you.”

“Bullseye.” You say, but you can’t bring yourself to smile. “It’s downright rude to be roundabout. Not give me a chance to say no, or put me in a position where I can’t or it’s difficult to. Bunch of cowards. All of them.”

Caesar walks over to the target and pulls it out. He lets out a regretful sigh. “Still, it’s a pity you won’t have a basic college experience. It’s important to learn the basics. I’m willing to give you a few lessons. Free of charge. At your leisure. On your terms.” He stares at you point blank.

Your jaw drops and you huff.

You know if you say no he won’t take it the wrong way. He knows that you know it’s fine to refuse. After all, he had his own life and didn’t care either way. He probably felt he was doing you a favor by offering. You can feel the heat rising to your face as you try to control your smile. You can only give a rough laugh. “Well, that was direct.”

He tilts his head slightly.

You chew your lip and turn away to try to stop your heart from racing out of control. “And just what would these lessons look like?”

“On your terms. Whatever you want them to look like. Whatever is going through your head right now.”

What was going through your head right now was how clearly defined his chest was under his shirt. "Okay."

Caesar nodded once. "You already have my number."

You don’t say anything to reply. You hide it but you walk stunned, only giving short responses as you’re greeted when you walk down the street with a Caesar’s proposal buzzing around in your head. You walk into your dorm and your room mate is on the couch playing an online game on her phone. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You say, dropping your backpack.

She didn’t even look at you. “How was your day.”

“Um…” You can’t even pretend to be fine. “It’s was interesting.”

“Oh… something happened?” She put down her phone.

“Yeah but I can’t tell you about it.” You quickly walk away and shut the door to your room.

You run your hands over your face. One side of you was screaming, no. Seriously, no. He was messing with you. Pulling your chain. He can’t be serious. You sit down in front of your cheap vanity from Ikea and look at yourself in the mirror. Your whole face is red. You can’t even bring yourself to compose a text.

Anything you wanted… what could you do with him?

“Okay… let’s… test it. Make an outrageous request that he’ll have to say no to. Call his bluff.”

You finally text him. “Okay, lesson one. First date. Take me square dancing.”

His response was immediate. “You see… this is why I like you. Challenge accepted.”

“What? No. Nonononono….” You pick up the phone and type. “Shut up, I was joking. I was just testing to see if you were serious.”

“I was serious. Your terms.”

You look at your blushing face in the mirror. You were smiling. Genuinely. “Okay. Now that I know you’re serious…” You type…. And then pause…

Just what was your idea of a romantic evening? Your mind is cast back to Black Swan Bay.

“Let’s go sit next to the lake. Any spot. You pick.”

“Day or night?”

“Night.”

The nights still had a chill in the air so you dressed warmly in a sweater and a scarf and hat. The spot Caesar picked was near a venue where people were playing music under lights while diners ate in front of the stage. Caesar and you arrived at the same time. You feel shy. Unsure of what to say to start out.

“Breaking the ice is hard, even if you know each other. Because from now on things will be a little different.” Caesar says. His eyes sparkled like diamonds in his pale face. He was also in a sweater, one that likely looked cheaper than it actually was with fitted slacks and a belt. “I got you something.”

He pulled a small box from his pocket and opened it. “Flowers would be a bit unwieldy to hold onto.” He said, and revealed a bracelet. A chain of blossoming gold roses. It was real gold, you could tell.

You want to ask how much it was. But he reaches over and gently takes your hand. You feel the callouses on his fingers from years of firing a gun. He fastens the chain around your wrist.

“Thank you…” Your heart was slamming into your ribs like it wanted to escape. “This is really nice. I like it.”

Caesar didn’t let go of your hand and led you to the bench to sit. The bracelet pulled double duty as a piece of jewelry and a distraction. You felt so tense. You could scarcely look at him.

“You’re not used to being close to people.” Caesar said softly. “Just relax. We don’t have to do anything.”

“Is that the lesson for today?” You ask.

“It was what you asked for. Do you want to move on to the next lesson already?” Caesar didn’t look at you directly but there was a slight laugh in his voice that made your face go even redder.

“No, no… this is fine.” But in your heart you were saying it was kind of boring. Unsatisfying. You wanted something else. But the evening ended with you doing nothing.

The next day, you stare at the text conversation. How serious was he? How serious were you? The words stood out. “This is why I like you…”

“I like you…”

He typed that out and sent it to you.

Despite being propositioned by a dozen guys since school started, not one of them had said those three words and he just blurted them out like nothing in response to a joke. He liked you because you joked with him about square dancing.

So you decided to test him again. “Okay… how about this? Let’s watch Star Was. Cuddle lessons.”

“You’ve got it. Where?” His response was immediate, like he was waiting on your text.

It wouldn’t be good for either of you to relax together on campus. Too many eyes. “Let’s rent a hotel. Just enough for the movie. Then you go home.”

The movie you picked was an old classic you used to watch on your own. Movies were strictly forbidden items at the orphanage but the staff had to entertain themselves and smuggled them in. Thanks to your quick and sticky fingers you managed to watch movies under a tarp in a shed. The shed was unheated and uninsulated and frigid cold. But you braved it for the freedom of watching something that took your mind off your misery.

How different things were now!

You knew all the words to A New Hope and the music that swelled as Luke Skywalker squints into the twin suns. But far from being cold and alone, you’re warm, tucked under Caesar’s arm, head resting on his broad shoulders. You could vaguely hear his heart beating. It wasn’t a hotel that catered to the wealthy and the suite was small but comfortable. He couldn’t help but spend a little money though. On gourmet popcorn and a comfy pair of yellow fleece PJs for you.

Caesar gently lifts his hand towards your head. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” His light hands are in your hair, running from front to back. The hairs rise on your arms and soft shiver rattles you. You feel yourself relax again, focusing on the rise and fall of his breath.

But by the end of the movie, you feel dissatisfied. You wanted more than this. This wasn’t bad. Your eyes shift away from him and your smile vanishes.

“What’s wrong? You want to go?”

“Nothing’s wrong… I just…”

I want you to kiss me. You couldn’t say the words. But the desire, now identified presses out from the inside. Part of you urges you. Say it. Just say it. But your lips lock up and you can’t look up.

“If I did something wrong, tell me.”

“No… it’s not you at all. You’re good. You’re fine.” You take a breath and close your eyes tight. “I want you to kiss me…”

There. It was out there and you felt like you wanted to die.

His silence didn’t help. It forced you to turn back and look up at him. He was blushing. That suave debonair air was swept away and now he looked like an embarrassed guy at a prom. “Where?”

“I could barely get that out and now you want details?” You’re twisting your hands so hard, it hurt and even your blush was painful. Who blushes so hard it hurt? But this hurt. Your ears were ringing in embarrassment! “Just on the cheek for now. Okay?”

“Alright.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and feel the soft lips caress your cheek, barely there, but your whole body feels like its going to explode. It was a mistake. A grave mistake.

You walk out of the hotel room and head back to campus and that kiss follows you home. It’s the last thing you feel when you close your eyes and the first thing you feel when you wake up. Caesar’s ghost follows you around, kissing your cheek in the middle of class, distracting you from the lecture.

And it wasn’t enough. You wanted a real one.

Your phone buzzes and you pick up. Your heart jumps when you see Caesar’s name, and falls when you see his message, down through your chest into the pit of your stomach.

“I’ll be gone for about 30 days on assignment. I look forward to continuing our lessons.”

Thirty days. A whole month of this torture. You raise your hand to your cheek and softly groan. “Next lesson. I want a real kiss.”

Thus began the longest month of the entire year. You find yourself watching videos, reading articles on what made a good kiss, pressing your lips against a pillow. Your teachers start to notice your distraction. You were always a stellar student, quick with a correct response. And now it seems your mind is hardly there. Your grades are fine, but you’re no longer present. Your soul has left your body… waiting for Caesar’s return.

Caesar was kind enough to send you a picture of his return ticket at the end of this miserable month.

He also sent you a message with a reservation. A private resort.

Gone were all thoughts of movies and cute PJs. You shopped, you dressed up and you put on make up and jewelry. Yet you felt like you looked like a clown. It wasn’t you. You took the make up off, but kept the jewelry.

You would be picked up by a driver. It wasn't a limo but it was luxurious. The resort was located on a private vineyard. The drive was long through rolling hills. The house was a two story homestead among the vines. Caesar met you there, also dressed up and he welcomes you with a hug. This time, he did come bearing flowers.

The flowers went into a vase.

Caesar and you sat on the back porch looking out at the red tinted sky on the back porch swing. “So, kissing lesson one.”

Your heart quickens and every nerve goes on alert. “Okay…”

“It always starts with touch.” He takes your hand and runs his thumbs over your knuckles.

Before you couldn’t look at him and now you can’t look away. All that research you did was useless. No one you saw online had beautiful soft lips like his. You’d never seen that fond look in his eyes before. Was he tormented by that little kiss as much as you were?

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” He asked.

“I’m wondering how you got anything done for those 30 days.” You say.

Caesar takes a deep breath and his gaze grows distant. “So am I.”

He leaned forward slowly, pausing at intervals, until his closeness distorted the view. You close your eyes and wait…

And wait…

“Hey! Don’t play with me!” You run your arm over his shoulder and draw yourself closer.

“I’m waiting for you.” Caesar playfully kisses your cheek again.

He’s playing coy. After all this time and waiting, he's playing coy! Your burst into a blush again and you lock up. Your faces are not even an inch apart, wrapped in a perfect embrace. He wasn’t going to kiss you. He wanted you to kiss him. But your face is too busy smiling to even do it.

He lightly kicked his toe and set the swinging chair rocking. You sway in mid air, looking into his eyes. “Why are you so pretty?”

He shrugged, his eyes not leaving your face.

Close… so close. You scrape up the last of your boldness and courage. Telling yourself to do it, just do it. Just…

You can’t. You look away and just smile.

Caesar’s toe lands and stops the swing. “Really?”

“Sorry! I don’t know… how… I can’t.”

“Well, let’s go back to basics…” He takes your hand again and starts over… all the way over. But immediately you don’t like it. That’s not what you want. Caesar’s hand leaves yours and instead runs over your hair.

A deep warmth starts from your chest and radiates down your stomach. He’s not just pretty, now you felt lost in those eyes. You were lost, exploring a maze of feelings, finding out the way forward, what you wanted, what you didn’t, occasionally meeting dead ends.

His hands ran down your hair, your face, your neck and shoulders, down your arms. You just lean forward enough to rest your lips on his. It wasn’t a proper kiss, but he kissed you back anyway, gently turning his head, massaging his lips over yours once and pulling away.

“Wait…” You said and follow him, kissing again, short and repeated kisses, trying to imitate the way his lips moved. This was a lesson after all. You had to learn this. But you weren’t sure how much you could learn now. The kisses were tearing through you like a landslide from head to toe. Your chest swelled and you rose into his arms while he steadied the swing under you.

He sighs your name, the breath ending in a little whimper and you feel your eyes burn. You rarely cried but you felt a sudden loss of control. Caesar breaks away and cradles your face in his hands, wiping the tear away with his thumb. There was concern in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

That was the end of the lesson. You rest again against him. Why did you feel so tired, so suddenly? You weren’t sure.

#Dragon Raja #Caesar Gattuso

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taking-over-his-life · 4 years ago

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Munich Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I had a constant stream of friends and family visit me over the summer, as I tried to pretend that Gunter was in this body, fuck how I enjoyed that. Old boyfriends, shags mates, I played the part well and soon fell into my new life naturally.

I was the son of a rich family, living on an allowance so I didn’t work, and didn't need too, this suited me down to the ground as the sex was just intoxicating, and it was my true drug.

I had been building my body up so the muscles were starting to show and the idea of showing them off turned me on. Bear chested with a leather waistcoat, that was my dress until the rains came. In the clubs and bars I attracted attention, and enjoyed every minute.

One night I had been out clubbing and was walking home. I was out of my mind on speed and drink.

I decided to walk down a tow path near the canal. It was dark, very dark, but in that state I didn’t care. It smelt of dampness and plant life, the dew was on each leaf and stalk.

As I walked in there were the normal tramps sleeping on the benches, I was looking for some hot leather man. I walked right through, about half a mile there was no one there, ‘FUCK’ I said as I headed back.

‘FUCK ‘came a voice from the darkness, ‘please!’ I looked and could see no one, but the voice came from a clump of bushes, so in I went. Stupid fool I would regret this.

I peered into the darkness and a guy got hold of me, ‘You horny fucker, give me your arse’. He started to loosen my chaps, ‘FUCK OFF’ I said, I couldn’t see him , and he was moving too quick. I turned round and started to walk away. An arm came round my neck and pulled me back in. ‘YOUR MINE FAGGOT!!,’ I started to shout, but he forced something into my mouth, it was so filthy and stunk so bad, ‘SHUT THE FUCK UP ’ he said. I was on the ground in seconds, He put his hands in my pockets and took my wallet and money, ‘nice, I need some cash' he said. He went through my wallet, and took a letter, ‘this is where you live homo, is it?’ At this he violently kicked me in the stomach. I doubled up in pain, another followed, ‘answer me’ he said threateningy.

‘Yessss,’ I said in pain, my eyes were getting accustomed to him, I saw him, muscled, but a tramp, so filthy the dirt was so bedded into him it looked like leather.

‘Take me there,’ he said as he stood me up and made me walk in front. No one was out it was 4am.

We arrived at the flat he took the keys and opened it, ‘anyone else in, ‘I looked at him and did not answer, ‘If they are they are dead’ he snarled.

He pushed me in and opened each door. When he was satisfied he pushed me into the bedroom.

Nice place faggot, give it to me, I need a base, maybe take your place. I bet I could be a mincing queen.

I was so terrified. He turned the light on, and I saw him properly for the first time. he was attractive, same shape and look and colouring as me. He could be my brother. He was wearing filthy hiviz over old combat trousers, they were so filthy that they were black in places and were shiny, his boots were worn the leather cracking, they were laced , he just stunk to high heavens.

He started to search and found my cache of chems, wow some supply, we are in for a hot night faggot.

He walked over to me and forced me to take 3 pills, FUCK I thought that’s too much, it wasn’t long before I started to drift.

He lifted a chair and put me on it in the bathroom.

He started to strip, Hi vis jacket hoody, both so filthy and stinking, and threw them at me, ‘your new clothes man’ he said, then the combats, and some filthy piss stained long johns under them and the shoes,.

He was so stinking and dirty. ‘You like faggot eh?’ I did, it was getting me hard and he could see.

He went over to the sink and started to shave, he had a large beard but using my clippers, he soon had stubble and a Mexican moustache.

Now he started to shave his head. When he finished, he washed his face. ‘What do you think queer boi’ he said, FUCK, he looked just like me, He got close to me and started to kiss me, as he did, he fiddled with my ears. As he drew back I could see he had taken my rings and he was positioning them on his ears, ‘There we go’, he said, now he took out my nose ring, and put it in his. ‘Don’t I look the fucking part homo.’ he said as he laughed at me.

My nips had the rings taken then my cock. He was in ecstasy as he said, ‘Fuck these feel so great on me. It will be your clothes next tramp boy’

Next he was in the shower, I tried to stand up but couldn’t and fell, straight onto the pile of his clothes, they stunk but were very horny and I was so out of it on chems, they turned me on. he looked out, ‘don’t try to escape MR I need your clothes, and your identity, Your going to enjoy being a lousy tramp Mr.’ he said smiling.

I was terrified, he was going to take my place, what would he do with me.

He stepped out and dried off.

His dick was hard, now I need your clothes to finish it off.

He lifted my leg and started to pull of my boots, then my socks, my breeches left me next then my jock. He got down and took my cock strap, and then in seconds it was all on him

The more he dressed the more he looked like me. My rings arm bands chain, shirt jacket

The lot

The transfer was complete.

‘Well Mr what do u think?’ He was identical. ‘What the fuck are you going to do, your not me, I am! ‘ I said he responded ‘You are now a loser Mr, I the fucking gay boi now, your life is now mine, nobody will know the difference. Im looking forward to living here, in your gear, with your money and lifestyle. Bet id be a great gay shag eh?’

He then started to dress me in the filthy stinking gear he had worn,

He put me on my back and started to pull the long johns on my legs, they were yellow with age and so filthy huge stains on the arse and dick, they smelt so ripe, it was sickening. He pulled them so far up, they caressed my dick and balls. Real man stink, I was getting hard

I couldn't resist. Then the old combats, they fitted me perfectly, he fastened them, and zipped in my dick, old socks so ripe they were slimy on my feet, holes all over, then his boots. He laced them up. ‘You look good MR’ he said

He stood me up and pulled an old T shirt over my head it was so filthy, and stink of BO and beer

Then the hoody top and the old stinking leather jacket and hi vis.

‘Look’ he said as he stood me in front of the mirror, ‘what do u think what a transformation’. ‘Fuck I'm going to enjoy it here, and you will really like the canal,’ My dick was ridged and seeping, I was so horny, and he could see it, the filthy smell and feel of his gear was turning me on. See ‘you want it boi, be a real man, and ill be the faggot. You can have my history in the army memories of my wife and kids, ill be a filthy worthless rich cunt now giving my arse to the biggest dick. Got to act limp and camp, maybe the change will make you a man,’ he laughed and laughed, he started to feel his arse in my jeans, he enjoyed the leather. ‘Feeling his chest and enjoying every minute. I could see the leather was interacting with him, giving him my sensations and feelings, he was really taking my place. He strutted the room and checked himself in the mirror, each time the leather got tighter shaping itself to him.

He pulled me over to the sink and cut my moustache and rubbed some dirt off his boots and into my skin on my face, ‘dirty fucking tramp, loser.’ he whispered

‘Nooo, please your not me ‘I said slurring my words. ‘Only you and I will know that’ he said ‘Take a drink he said and he forced whisky into me 'I was out of it. I could see and hear but had no control.

He got a house plant and forced my fingers in the soil and rubbed the dirt in my hands so I looked the part. He lay me on the floor and pissed all over me, then he lifted me up, I was helpless. He lay me over the sink and started to push his huge dick deep inside me. There was nothing I could do. I enjoyed the feeling so much, I came twice adding to the filth in the long jonhs, then I pissed myself, He pulled at my shoulders as he lunged into me, ‘í want to be you, gunter, Im the faggot now, I want to live your life, Your Nathan, enjoy your new life' he started to cum wads deep inside of me.

I lay on the floor watching him, he was exactly like me, fuck he couldn’t pull it off surely. I'm no tramp. I watching as he got used to my flat and gear, my food, sitting at the table, eating from my plates, wearing my gear, Then phoning on my phone, as he sat down the leather gear moulded to his shape, ‘it s good to be gay ‘he said, laughing at me. He lit up a joint and sat with his boots on my stomach, or rather my boots. He was reading my papers memorising things about me, reading my letters finding out about my family, ‘gunter hammerstaed, that’s me, true fucking German.’he said, looking at me. He repeated my birthdate place of birth etc, things about my family. ‘I'm you now Gunter, I'm you, I'm the faggot boi, me a rich little cuntboi. And you’re the tramp’. he laughed

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

He opened it. It was Peter, ‘Hi Gunter’ he said, and kissed him, he responded. In he came, I tried to speak, peter help, he kicked me hard, ‘who the fuck is he’, said Peter, some old tramp I took pity on’ he replied.

‘Fuck you’re a brave man letting him in here.’ said Peter. I tried to get peters attention, but it wasn’t too long before he was on top of the impersonator and in bed, after hours of fucking peter didn't notice any difference and believed it was me. What was I going to do. Before he left Gunter said, ‘give me a hand getting him back to the canal.’

Peter and him took an arm each and walked me over to the canal It was dark and damp and smelled, of the vegetation around, I tried to speak but couldn’t, Peter said ‘he fucking stinks, maybe we should just fuck him and let him float away in the canal better ending for him’. and he found the spot where we met, there was some cardboard and a few possessions, he lay me down, and whispered, ‘enjoy it, this is you now.’

They both walked away.

It was mid day and I woke up, I was still well gone but could walk, I was going to have that bastard. As I walked towards the flat, there he was with peter in a street café, wearing my levis chaps high boots waistcoat, and cap. My piercing in his ear shone in the sunlight and it caught the silver ring in his nose, his nips stood out with my rings in the and my thick silver chain lay round his neck.

He was wearing al my rings one on each finger, fuck I looked great I thought, that’s my image and I'm having it back, Petr will help me. Fuck he looked great, but that was my life and I was going to have it back. I went up to the table, and got hold of him, ‘your cunt’ I shouted and pushed at him, Peter jumped up and grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me throwing me into the road, ‘FUCK OFF YOU FILTHY CUNT ‘he said. He looked at the impersonator, ‘see I said you shouldn’t help.’ @ Peter its me ‘ I said, but my voice was still slurred.

‘Go away boi,’ he said to me ‘or ill call the police’, ‘call them’ I said, and they did.

Within minutes they were there, and they explained I had attached him. Peter witnessed it as did others, the police held me and I explained my story, they looked at each other, ‘careful, he has a knife’ shouted the impersonator, ‘where’ said the policemen, ‘he put it in his leg pocket’ he said. The pushed me on the front of the car and searched me, yes it was there, and they found crystal meth, enough to deal, ‘Your coming with us' they said, I was in shock lost didn't know how to react

‘No I screamed, he has stolen my life I'm Gunter hammerstead, not him’, he and peter laughed, ‘too many chems they said’ to the police. I was cuffed and bundled into the back of the car. Then it struck me this nightmare was real

In the car I tried to tell the cops but they ignored me, ‘fucking shut up you dirty filthy tramp’ they said.

I got to the station, and they searched me. He had a passport on him, Nathan johns, he was exactly like me and me him. I was a Canadian. They took my fingerprints and picture and his name went on the record. Fuck now my fingerprints matched his identity , nooooo.

In the morning I was thrown out. So back to the canal I went, then to my flat. The clothes stuck too me, and the smell was riveting, he opened the door,'FUCK’, he cried and pulled me in.

‘You cunt go away, I don’t want you here Nathan. This is my house my life, ive taken it from you, I'm Gunther now’ he said , ‘NO!’ I shouted, he threw me against a wall he was strong, and it winded me. The next minute he was on top of me,’ like your new name Nathan?’ He said, ‘like your filthy clothes and your new life, Canadian boi’,he sneered. I struggled but couldn’t move. ‘Now I am you cunt, understand it, or ill wipe you out,’ he showed me a syringe, I struggled and he jabbed me in the arm, . ‘next time cunt Ill overdose you., and they will find you in the canal, and who the fuck will care about a tramp.’he said

‘I need you passwords and bank codes, faggot, so spill the beans, give them to me’. I passed out.

When I woke up I was tied down and gagged. He was sitting at the far side of the room, napping. He looked unbelievable, it was me, tight leather jeans with a white stripe, fitted him to perfection showing every curve, the highly polished boots,, on his feet, the waistcoat, tatts on his arms identical to mine, his tan, piercings, the muircap, he was an exact replica of who I used to be.

I struggled, and he woke, ‘Keep still Nathan, ’he said 'm not Nathan, I'm Gunter, ’I shouted. Suddenly he delivered a huge blow to my face,’ NEVER SAY THAT AGAIN. You are Nathan’ he screamed.

I started to speak and he forced my mouth open and forced some drugs in. ‘Your with me now till you’re a full time druggy Nat’. and he started to laugh, I was tripping and couldn’t stop myself

.Hours went by, I woke up, he was there , ‘who are you’ he said ‘gunter’ I replied. he punched me so violently, and more drugs were forced.

Again, ‘who are you' he said. I looked into his eyes so angry so evil, I hesitated, he looked at me, with pure evil. ‘I'm I'm I'm Nathan’ I said with tears rolling down my face., ‘Good he said, who am I' ‘Gunter I said

‘Excellent boi’ he said , he questioned me on my family and I told him everything he wrote it down then bank accounts the lot, he had my history my money my gear my house my looks, he was me.

And me, well Nathan is my name now, I'm a tramp in Munich.

#body switch #bodyswap #male body swap #male possession #straight to gay

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ideallawnmowerlawnmowerproblems · 3 years ago

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Eco-Pleasant Organization Tendencies In 2021

The Best Bag And Cable Organizers™

The Custom Leathercraft 3 Multi-Purpose Clip-on Zippered Bags are better suited for your home toolbox than an everyday gadget bag. The trio of pouches are made of canvas, so theyâ€™re tough, and sharp nails and needle-nose pliers wonâ€™t damage them. The canvas was rougher than our panelists preferred, and most staffers found the dark colors unattractive. Many of us also prefer pouches that are transparent because we donâ€™t like guessing whatâ€™s stored in each bag in the set. The IPOW BD02 pencil pouches are sold in a set of four. We liked the fun floral patterns and traditional pencil pouch shape. But the bags werenâ€™t big enough to hold more than a single bulky item, such as a laptop charger. The zippers also stuck and some broke during our tests. The five bags in the Modern Bethel Travel Pouch Set are covered in vinyl, so theyâ€™re waterproof. But in our tests, the seams werenâ€™t stitched cleanly and the bags leaked water. We also found that the larger bags (13Â¾ by 10Â½ inches and 11 by 8Â¼ inches) are so big that theyâ€™re as bad as just leaving things loose in your backpack or purse to begin with. The Muji Double Fastener Case (medium) was great for storing the small gear on our list. But it couldnâ€™t hold our bulkier items without permanently deforming the polyester bag. Itâ€™s also not waterproof, so a spilled soda or leaking lotion bottle would damage its contents. The BUBM cord and cosmetic organizer is a two-way makeup and brush bag thatâ€™s convertible to store tech gear as well. The top is a traditional makeup bag, and the bottom unzips horizontally to store brushes, tablet pens, and skinny cable cords. But the main compartment isnâ€™t big enough to carry most of the accessories on our list. And the padded chamber absorbed leaking water, which means that it could retain the stinky odors of other spilled liquids over time. The Chiceco Handy Makeup Pouch offers better privacy than our pick from The Container Store because itâ€™s made of 100D Oxford nylon and not micro mesh. Itâ€™s small enough to carry with one hand, and is flexible and durable enough to cram full with gear without fear of it tearing. But the zipper broke during testing, making the bag virtually impossible to use. The Leatherology Clamshell Makeup Bag is sold in two sizes (medium and large) or as a set. Both sizes were great for splitting the storage of our tech gear and personal hygiene items. We liked that both bags have zip pockets, and the clamshell design was ideal for finding small items hiding at the bottom of the bag. But the leather was too soft, and it was easy to scratch and scuff during normal use. Leatherology allows only a 30-day return window and only for unused gear, which isnâ€™t ideal for a product that costs $85 to $180. â€ Yet we called the customer service line twice and never spoke with a live person (once, we stayed on hold for 30 minutes before giving up and ending the call). Note: As of January 2020, Leatherology now offers a one-year limited warranty against defects in materials or craftsmanship, but we still prefer the quality, style, and look of our Cuyana picks. After two years of testing, we dropped the Dsptch Dopp Kit as a pick. Originally, we liked that its design worked for carrying both cables and lotions because the main compartment had three wide elastic loops that comfortably fit bulky toiletries (like sunscreen) and tech accessories (like charging bricks) beside each other. But the main compartment canâ€™t fully unzip, so itâ€™s harder to peer into and harder for larger hands to dig inside. Similarly, the side compartmentâ€™s padded valet tray takes up valuable space, and when the tray was in place, we had trouble quickly grabbing an item from that section without fully unzipping the bag. The Herschel Supply Co. Chapter Travel Kit measures 18 by 4Â½ by 6 inches, so it holds our essentials with plenty of room to spare. But its large size also means it was way too big to carry each day. This Dopp kit also isnâ€™t waterproof. The Aer Cable Kit was a previous pick, but it has been discontinued. We reviewed its successor, the Aer Cable Kit 2, which isnâ€™t as practical as our Incase pick. The Aer Cable Kit 2 has redesigned pockets and loops, but the storage compartments are less useful in this iteration because theyâ€™re more uniform, which means itâ€™s harder to find a spot for odd-shaped gear. And the main compartment is lined in a fleece-like material thatâ€™s not very soft. We donâ€™t like the Bellroy Tech Kit because the metal zipper is sticky, the storage compartments arenâ€™t ideal for smaller pieces like USB flash drives and earbuds, and the pockets arenâ€™t taut or zippable, so items can easily fall out in transit. The Dagne Dover Arlo Tech Pouch (large) is a good size if you regularly carry large tech accessories such as a charging brick or docking station, but for most commuters, itâ€™s too big and ungainly. Itâ€™s difficult for people with small hands to carry in one hand, it doesnâ€™t rest flat along the spine when open, and the chunky plastic zipper is stiff and hard to maneuver. The Knomo Thames Knomad Organizer is slim enough to stash inside a briefcase, but its wide design makes it harder to carry in one hand while youâ€™re juggling gear as you dash from conference room to conference room. And although itâ€™s made of water-resistant polyurethane, the material is slightly rough, not as refined as the material in our other picks. The Bond Travel Gear Escapade Pouch has a rough nylon exterior, inconsistent stitching quality, and zippers that catch, making it hard to open and close. Eagle Creek Etool Organizer Pro lacks a microfiber lining and padding to protect delicate objects, and thereâ€™s limited space to secure smaller items, like thumb drives. Water also leaks through the zippers. The Native Union Stow Accessory Organizerâ€™s leather exterior shows wear and tear easily, and the zippers are difficult to use. The Peak Design Tech Pouch opens like an accordian-style file folder, so gear wonâ€™t fall out when you open it. But this was the hardest bag to open that we tested, as the zipper frequently got stuck on the thick piping that was designed to prevent leaks. The Tom Bihn Snake Charmer is an upright bag with dual mesh compartments (like a dopp kit). But it's surprisingly bulky (up to 5 inches deep), and itâ€™s also not waterproof, so tech gear wonâ€™t survive a soda spill. For non-water-resistant options, we prefer our Vaultz Mesh Storage Bags because theyâ€™re sold in a pack of four for just $8 at the time of writing, are modular and big enough for larger cables, and pack down flat for easy storage. The Welden Nylon Accessory Organizer is well-made and stylish, featuring a modern hexagonal weave pattern on the exterior thatâ€™s sure to attract attention. But its small size (4.7 by 7.78 by 2.75 inches) has limited storage space, which wonâ€™t work for most people commuting with all of their gear. Itâ€™s also pricey ($80 at the time of writing), and we think our luxe pick, the Cuyana Leather Travel Case varlion summum leather backpacks Set, is a better deal (currently two bags for $110). Leatherology Small Tech Bag Organizer has three elastic loops, but the loops loosened after just a couple of uses. The bag is made of soft full-grain leather, which scratches easier than what we would like from a $65 bag. You can upgrade to the firm, full-grain German leather bag for $100.) This bag is also subject to Leatherologyâ€™s limited 30-day return window (described above). Both Bagsmart bags we looked at have plenty of loops and slots for our gear, but it felt weird putting toiletries in such a techie-looking pouch. Model Travel Universal Cable Organizer (BM0200044B001) wasnâ€™t waterproof. And though the Thicken Cable Organizer (BM0200064A001) model did repel water, its inside wasnâ€™t very durable and got scuffed up by our bulky laptop cable. Our packing cube pick, the Eagle Creek Pack It Quarter Cube (extra-small) was too flimsy to hold our gear. The Hynes Eagle Travel Accessories Organizer was too small to hold even half the gear on our list. The floral pattern on the bag was grainy and looked cheap. The bag also wasnâ€™t waterproof. The Power Packer is durable, looks nice, and is big enough to store bulky cables, external power packs, and travel adapters. Although thatâ€™s exactly what itâ€™s designed to carry, most of our testers found it big for everyday use. And the knitted fabric accents absorbed and leaked water to other sections of the bag.

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let-love-run-red · 5 years ago

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Adventures of a Single Father-5

Tag List: @sincereleygmg, @0hour9am, @siobhanlovesfilm, @thefandomzoneisdangerous, @darthseph, @alyssah430 (I’m so sorry some of the tags didn’t work loves)

Adam woke with a start when he felt something moving on his chest. He glanced down to see Cody shuffling on his chest. Adam let out a sigh and rested his hand on his son's back, thankful Cody hadn't fallen off while Adam slept. He turned his head to glance at the clock on his bedside table. 6:00, he should have been making dinner for himself, and Cody was no doubt hungry. Adam stood while holding Cody against his chest and remembering what Dr. Garcia had said about trying to move Cody away from formula. He thought he'd gotten some jars of baby food on a sale at the store but looking in the pantry they were nowhere to be found. He sighed and reached for the can of formula. Solid foods would have to wait.

He opened the can to find it empty. He dropped it in the garbage can in the corner, before reaching for the second can only to grasp empty air. He dug around in the pantry, silently cursing in his head before shutting the door with more force than necessary. He grumbled under his breath before walking to where he'd dropped the chest carrier, laying Cody on the couch before fastening the carrier to his own chest. He picked up Cody, walking to the bedroom and dressing him in a light jacket and mittens. He would be close enough to Adam's chest to stay warm. Cody squirmed and grumbled when Adam put his mittens on his hands before slowly waking with a start.

Adam shushed him quietly, lifting Cody so his head was resting on Adam's shoulder. Cody reached up to grab Adam's hair and Adam winced as he tugged sharply. Adam set Cody in the carrier, lowering his head with his son to avoid losing a lock of his hair. He gently freed his hair from his son's grip, talking softly to Cody while making his way to the bathroom. He dug around in the drawers before finding what he was looking for, a black elastic band. He gathered the hair that Cody could reach from the carrier and pulled his hair back into the elastic, resulting in a half ponytail. He made a mental note to get his hair trimmed.

Adam walked to the couch, lifting his jacket in his arms and sliding it on as Cody waved his hands around in an attempt to remove the mittens that Adam had tied to his coat sleeves. Cody let out an indignant squeal as Adam zipped his jacket around Cody.

"Dada!" Cody screeched as he swung his tiny angry fists out to the side. Adam let out a sigh, taking Cody's hands.

"I know you don't like it kid, but you've gotta wear 'em." He said as he released one of Cody's hands to smooth his hand over the soft black hair on Cody's head.

Adam double checked he had his keys and wallet before walking out the door, locking it behind him and venturing down the hall. He stuck his hands in his pockets as he thumped down the stairs. He heard a similar thumping sound, just much lighter, and looked down the stairwell to see you making your way up the stairs. Your hair was awry as you gripped the handrail tightly.

"(y/n)!" Adam called delightedly. You snapped your head up, a smile breaking across your face when you spotted him.

"Hey Adam!" You replied. Adam quickly made his way down the stairs and pulled you into a hug, careful not to crush Cody. You were slightly taken aback, yes you and Adam had touched, but it was nothing more than a high five or handshake. He pulled away and held onto your shoulders.

"I got a job." He said, his voice at a whisper, almost as if he believed it would turn to dust if he said it too loud. Your smile grew before you hugged him again with a delighted squeal. Cody huffed in protest at the proximity and you pulled away before running your hand gently through Cody's soft black locks.

"That's great Adam!" You said joyously. He nodded happily, and the two of you stood in a not so awkward silence for a few moments before you spoke.

"Where are you headed?" You asked, glancing between his face and the back of Cody's head just poling out from under Adam's jacket.

"Oh, the store. I'm out of formula and baby food, I should've checked sooner." He said with a chuckle. You remembered that you were out of batteries, and a little low on milk for your taste. normally Laura would grocery shop, but she was lactose intolerant and nearly always forgot the milk, and cheese, and nearly every dairy item. You never made a list, so it was forgivable, she just never thought about it.

"Mind if I tag along?" You said, turning to face down the stairs. You had been looking forward to a warm shower but you would much rather spend time with Adam. You wanted to get to know him past just his fatherhood. That couldn't be all that defined him.

"Not at all, M'lady." Adam offered his arm to you and you took it. He helped steady you as you walked down the stairs on your sore feet.

The two of you walked to the store in a comfortable silence. You had kept your arm linked with his as you walked, not quite wanting to pull yourself away from his warmth. Occasionally you would glance over to him, watching him as he walked, counting the beauty marks on his face or examining his hair. You didn't mind it pulled back, but you much preferred it loose.

When you reached the store Adam grabbed a cart and unzipped his jacket, laying it atop the children's seat. You unbuttoned your coat before quickly pulling it back closed and shivering. It was too cold for your taste.

"So, the job, where's it at?" You asked. He had seemed so excited about it, you figured that was a good opening topic before you asked him your burning question.

"Oh, it's at that pub downtown, it's called Valhalla. The owner seems, nice. He's a little intimidating. I start tomorrow." Adam said as he pushed the cart into the store with you in step beside him. The two of you chatted about his job as he made a B-line for the infant section. You glanced to the back of the store to the dairy section before breaking away from Adam with a quick explanation.

Adam watched with a smile as you walked away, before continuing down the aisle. He picked up a few more cans of formula, and jars of baby food. He also picked up a new toy that Cody seemed to be particularly interested in and looked at a few of the baby walkers they had stocked. He wrinkled his nose and shook his head, remembering what Dr. Garcia said about how dangerous the walkers could be. Besides, Cody was learning to move on his own.

Adam roamed through the aisles a bit more before running his grocery list in his head and deciding now was as good a time as any to pick up some of the more urgent things on his list. He made his way to the toilet paper section, parking the cart at the far end of the crowded aisle before weaving his way through the swarm of people. Adam reached to one of the taller shelves to grab a pack of toilet paper when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to look behind him to see a rather short, elderly woman shyly wringing her hands.

"I'm so sorry to bother you sir, but would you mind grabbing me a pack?" She asked gently. Adam flashed a smile and handed her the pack he had just grabbed down before turning to grab another for himself. He felt another tap on his shoulder and let out a sigh before holding the pack behind him. He felt somebody take it from his hands before grabbing another, and feeling another tap. He froze, trying to quell his frustration. He cursed his genetics for making him tall and cursed the fact that nobody in this aisle was even as tall as his shoulder. He turned wordlessly, holding the pack of toilet paper.

"Oh! How cute is he?" The middle-aged woman behind him cooed over Cody who was looking around curiously in the chest carrier. She reached to touch Cody and Adam felt the urge to curl himself around Cody. Instead he sharply cleared his throat and the woman withdrew her hand. Adam glanced behind her to see a bored looking teenager leaning on a basket that was pressed against the shelves across from Adam, which was funneling people much too close to him for comfort.

"I was going to ask if you would grab me a pack, but this little man is so cute!" The woman cooed at Cody. Adam held out the pack in his hand to her. She took it and called to the teenager before he looked up just in time to catch the pack of toilet paper in the chest. Adam suppressed a chuckle as the boy tried to catch it before just giving up and letting it fall to the floor. The woman turned back towards Adam, looking up to his face for the first time.

"I see where he got his handsome looks." She said, holding her hand out to Cody. Cody pulled his arms inside the chest carrier, pressing his face against Adam's chest as Adam rested a large hand over Cody through the carrier.

"Are you having fun with daddy on his week little man?" She asked. Adam felt a fire in his chest and suppressed a loud growl. His weekend? As if he was incapable of having Cody full time? As if he couldn't take care of his own child?

"My week?" He said quietly, his brows knitted together tightly.

"Well yes I can't imagine any court taking a baby away from their momma for longer than a week. She said, oblivious to the anger rising in Adam's chest. He heard a faint "mom" from behind him and glanced towards her teenager to see him paying full attention now and trying to pull his mother back to the cart.

"Especially one so young and absolutely precious, what did you do to momma anyway?" She asked with a chuckle, looking up to Adam's face.

"His fucking momma," Adam seethed, "was starving him and walked out on us when he was four fucking months old." Adam snarled. She stood straight, the smile falling from her face.

"I snuck out of the house every night to feed him so he wouldn't starve. So I hope to god that if we had to go to court, they'd keep his mother away from him." Adam said sharply before grabbing the fourth packet of toilet paper, and storming from the aisle. He heard a faint "how rude" from the aisle before hearing the woman ranting, most likely to her son, as Adam walked back to his cart. He dropped the toilet paper in the basket and grumbled to himself as he walked. He glanced down to Cody to see his son looking up at him with a happy smile. Adam thanked his luck that Cody was too young to understand what had just happened. He looked up to see you walking towards him, holding two gallons of milk and a few packs of batteries.

"Sorry Adam I had to track down an employee to help me find the batteries." You set them in the cart away from his things.

"They were in the office supply section," You said with a chuckle. "honestly why there?" Adam let out a small huff of a laugh from his nose and felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Got anything else you need?" You asked, cooing to Cody in the carrier when he turned to look at you. Adam shook his head. He just wanted to leave the store, and hopefully avoid any comments about his fatherhood and how it must be "his week." Honestly, who did she think she was? The two of you walked towards the self-checkout section, splitting off and going to the two open stands across the space from each other.

Adam began scanning his items, watching Cody startle at each loud beep. He continued scanning items until he got to the formula can. For some reason the system decided it didn't like that can and let out a loud beep before blocking the screen and blaring the message "Please Wait for assistance" repeatedly. Cody started crying in distress at the sound, causing Adam's stress levels to skyrocket. He pulled Cody from the carrier, cradling him against his shoulder and bouncing while he searched for an associate to make the loud noises stop. Each time the message played Cody started crying again. Adam gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut against the piercing gazes of the other shoppers.

Finally, an associate appeared. An older man who walked with a slight limp. He gave Adam a tight-lipped smile before scanning his ID card and scanning the formula again. The machine started flashing again and the two men sighed. The associate scanned his card again, before typing in the item number manually. Finally, the machine accepted the can of formula. Adam let out a breath of relief both at the machine and the fact that Cody was no longer crying. Adam thanked the associate, who hung close by in case Adam's kiosk decided to have problems again. Adam reached for his wallet and pulled it out, digging for his credit card to pay.

It wasn't there. His credit card was missing.

Adam set his wallet on the small top next to the machine, leafing through it with one hand while cursing quietly. His card wasn't there. He didn't have enough cash to pay for any of the items and his credit card wasn't in his wallet. Cody started fussing again and Adam felt tears pricking at his eyes as his anxiety swelled. He started breathing heavily and fumbling through his wallet. He tried to check it again, dropping it on the ground with a rather loud Fuck.

He heard bags rustling beside him and turned to watch you set the two gallons of milk and small bag of batteries down next to him before you pulled your own card out and slid it into the card reader. You gave Adam a gentle smile before bending down to pick up his wallet and handing it back to him. Adam took a deep breath and pressed his cheek against Cody's head both in an attempt to comfort himself and his son.

You finished the transaction, replacing your own card in your wallet and sliding it into your purse before helping Adam load his bags onto his free arm, picking up your own and walking out of the store with him.

"Thank you." Adam said quietly after a few minutes of silence. You turned to him with a smile.

"No need, it's what friends are for." You said gently. Adam quirked a smile and looked down to see Cody sleeping soundly against Adam's shoulder. You were both quiet for a moment, before you spoke.

"So, today at work I had a group of girls come in." You said, gauging his reaction. He was watching you carefully as you walked.

"And I think they knew you." You said. You watched Adam fumble one of the bags and curse quietly.

"One of them was talking about her kid, I think her name was Hannah?" You said. Adam let out a groan.

"Yeah, I knew them. Jessa Marnie and Shoshanna were there too right?" He asked. You recognized two of the names but Shoshanna was unfamiliar.

"Yeah Jessa and Marnie, but I don't recognize Shoshanna." You said.

"Super quiet kind of shy and a little fuckin' weird?" Adam said with a chuckle. Yep that was the third girl. You nodded with a giggle.

"Yeah, they were there." You said.

"Anyway, she was saying she wanted you to help her raise her baby?" She continued. Adam groaned.

"She's still going on about that?" He said before shifting Cody and the bags around in his arms.

"I guess, what's up with that?" You asked. He sighed as you pressed the buzzer for your apartment, knowing Laura would be home to unlock the door. You heard the automatic latch click and pushed the door open, holding it open for Adam to follow.

"We were dating a while ago. God I was cringy, and she was a fucking weirdo." Adam said as he walked up the stairs with you following.

"We broke up and got back together a few times, all her idea, and then I started dating the British one, Jessa." Adam cleared his throat as you watched him.

"I guess Hannah got knocked up sometime during that, the guy didn't want to be a father and I guess she figured because I always talked about having kids that meant I could be." You hesitated outside your apartment door.

"Oh?" You urged him to continue.

"Do you want to come inside?" He asked softly. You nodded and pulled yourself away from your apartment, approaching his door. He pulled out his keys to unlock it, pushing the door open and setting the bags on the floor beside the door to walk to his room and place Cody in his crib.

"I mean, I kind of offered once I heard. But I was just so caught up in what could have been, I eventually realized it wasn't going to work and we called it off. I went back to Jessa and broke up with her after she found out what I offered." He said, removing his jacket and Cody's chest carrier before beginning to put the groceries away. You set the gallons of milk and bag of batteries on the counter, glancing into the pantry when he opened it. There wasn't much other than ramen noodles.

"After a few months I met Hayley. Hannah showed back up and begged me to help her raise her kid, but Hayley was pregnant and I could not leave her." Adam said as he balled up the bags and tossed them in the cupboard under the sink.

"She was pissed. But I mean I had my own family," Adam trailed off. "and then she left." He said, staring at the floor. You had been listening quietly to his story.

"I was so stupid then." He said softly. You took a step towards him, rubbing his bicep gently through his jacket. He looked down into your (e/c) eyes with tears pricking at his own. You leaned against his chest, wrapping his arms around his waist in a hug. He hugged you back and rested his chin on your head.

The two of you stood in the kitchen for what seemed like hours. You felt the need to comfort Adam, he'd been through so much. So much that somebody trying so hard like he was didn't deserve to go through. Your phone buzzed and you finally pulled away as Adam cleared his throat. You checked your phone to see a text from Laura asking if you were alright.

"I should let you get going." Adam said gently. You nodded silently, picking up the milk and the batteries.

"I should too, you've got work tomorrow." You said, your voice matching his. It felt too intimate to talk normally, as if this required a gentle voice and soft words.

"Yeah, I've still got to find a sitter." Adam said with a chuckle. You tilted your head.

"What time?" You asked him. He shrugged.

"Around 6:30 ish." He said. You rolled your options over in your head before speaking.

"I could watch him, if you want." You said. Adam lifted his head with a smile. Currently, you were the only other person he could completely trust around Cody. Since Hayley had left, he'd had trouble letting his son out of his sight longer than a few hours for a nap, but you, he would trust you with his life.

"You wouldn't mind?" He asked. You shook your head with a grin.

"Not at all."

235 notes · View notes

dise7se · 4 years ago

Text

you can’t make a mistake (on these kind of ice skates)

by spideysforce

It begins like this: MJ and Ned show up to his and May’s apartment first thing in the morning, their incessant knocking on the front door with ushered whispers, “Peter!” followed by even more knocking. HIs heart is beating fast and he gets out of bed, whispering-shouting back at his friends to not wake Aunt May up.

Regrettably, they do wake Aunt May up at 7AM on her Saturday morning off after working 9 shifts in a row at the hospital. May still pulls Ned and MJ into the apartment, telling them she missed them, hugging them good morning and giving Peter the glare for not opening the door sooner. She may be allowing the squad to venture off on their own the winter break of their senior year, but she lays down the ground rules for their trip to the mountains outside of the city, streaked with frozen lakes they’ll venture out to skate in; She expects no blood, no blunt traumas, death, or ice all over the floor of the car.

He felt like a little kid ten years ago, a couple of years living with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. He had recently become accustomed to living with them, they began their own traditions. After celebrating Hanukkah and when Peter got out of school for the new year, they would drive out to the mountains to sit in scenic view parking lots, an early morning radio playing exclusive MET players in winter leagues content from their practices. May would set up the trunk, and they’d all squeeze in with the door propped open, huddling close and watching the trees sway. It was breathtaking; Ben usually stood too close to rocky cliffs to capture the perfect photo, propping him up on his shoulders to get the higher angle he couldn’t score himself. The same excited feeling from the night before, the excitement and him not being able to sleep, his stomach does leaps while he watches his friends tow their bags in. It was a meteorshower visible in the night sky, digging his fingers into fresh dirt in the spring, the first snowfall of the season.

“May, are you sure you can’t come with?” Peter asks once more, slouching and pouting his lips. He needs to raise the dramatics, she’s the best ice skater he knows.

“Sorry, baby. It’s my day off, and you three deserve your own fun little trip.” She fastens his puffy jacket on, zipping it up to the top, yet never snagging his chin. He groans once he catches MJ hiding a laugh behind her hand.

“You two are next,” May smiles in a knowing way, “don’t you think I’m going to let my kids go outside in the freezing cold with their jackets unzipped.”

“Of course, Aunt May,” Ned replies with his manners by the Leeds family never failing, standing happily besides Peter and chewing on his morning bagel. MJ sips on her coffee, grabbing Peter’s blue and white snowflake-knitted hat with a pom pom on the top.

“Please, no, MJ,” Peter complains, shaking his head to dodge the hat in her hand, May turning her gaze to Ned and huffing about kids, when Ned shrugs in agreement. “Seriously, you’re messing up my hair that I work so hard to naturally stay this luscious and wavy.”

“You know who you sound like?”

May turns to Peter to give him a very pointed look with a raised eyebrow, and he knows exactly where this is going. “Just like Tony. Always worrying about the hair, the sunglasses, how muscular you look in the Spidey suit.”

“May,” Peter shrieks, his face turning scarlet red while the room erupts into laughter from his friends who are totally betraying him right now. “That was one time in front of the mirror! Don’t get me wrong, I am very muscular in the suit, but you can’t just--”

“Can you just finish putting your hat on and get out of here already, go take your film photos for your photography project,” May presses a kiss to his forehead, gasping and taking a step once she realizes she needs to stay on the tip of her toes to reach him.

“Yes, May,” he says mildly, “ice skating, photos, and back home. No shenanigans.”

With that, she ushers the three of them to the door, reminding them no web fluid experiments in the middle of the woods, skating where they aren’t allowed, or no fighting unsolicited sea monsters, or any monsters at all like last summer. She exhales, her shoulders slumping and she’s giving him the same look that Happy and Tony give him before their spontaneous lectures, notorious anecdotes included. She says more ‘love you’s, sending them on their way.

---

MJ, Peter, and Ned drive May’s 1989 Revolvo outside of the city, taking the open highway to the mountains about an hour out. Peter took the driver’s seat, Ned in the front, and MJ opting to sit in the back with all their skating equipment. The car is full of laughter, music, and chattering in their ears on the drive to the lake, in true Peter Parker ADHD style, MJ and Ned Facetiming Flash and Betty, asking them to meet them on their hike.

The first thing he notices that gives him butterflies is MJ rolling the window down the second they reach the George Washington bridge, letting her curly hair- that usually smells like coconut oil and shea butter- sweep through the wind. His stomach flutters, watching her through the rearview mirror with a wide grin splat across his face, a laughter probably bubbling in her chest like his and Ned’s are full of.

As if his big, doey heart eyes aren’t big enough, he finds Uncle Ben’s old film camera he gifted to Peter secure around her neck, snapping photos across the moving bridge. Of the sky, of him, of Ned, the car besides them on the right that honks angrily at them. He hastily laughs, asking her to get back inside the car before her face freezes.

Why is his heart beating so fast? Why is he beaming so hard at his best friend beside him, pretending to reprimand his best friend in the back of the car?

Once they’re outside of the city, Ned passes a stick of gum to each of them the moment their ears pop from the change in pressure. They argued the entire way about their school advisors, not really knowing what to do next on their way to college. They all remind him of himself in their own way, and he’s starting to miss them already. MJ wants to study law and criminology, with a forensic biology minor. After Ned graduates he wants to study computer engineering, and Peter wishes he was so sure of himself like they were.

He doesn’t offer much.

It’s fine, because his friends have been helping him figure it out, hence them pushing him to apply to this photography scholarship and contest. Every time he dares to bring up a double major in STEM and photography, his advisors laugh in his face and shut him down. They make it nearly impossible to talk, but his friends are there for him and remind him he can go at his own pace, reminding him he has his alter-ego to worry about.

Peter pulls the car off into a dirt road, surprised he even knows how to drive as a Queens dweller. They follow a path, Ned gripping onto his door handle. “Oh, G-d, Peter. Be careful! Look, there’s a squirrel!”

“Ned,” he gulps, Michelle smirking at their cowardice from the backseat of the car.

“Come on, it’s just dirt,” she suggests, and quirks her brow from an idea. Once the car is silent besides the lowered music, she jumps out and yells in Ned’s ear to watch out.

He jumps, yelling, “that isn’t cool!” and throws something back at her while Peter finds a spot on the side of the mountain. He slams on the brakes to shut them up, their petulant arguing coming to an end once they see the scenic rest stop.

As promised, his friends let him push them around and guide them like cattle to get the perfect shots. He crouches across the parking lot away from them, hearing their hushed whispers and laughters about how ridiculous he looks. “It’s for the aesthetic, okay!”

He opts for the colored film, replacing the entire roll of 50 they used just on the drive here. He shuts the back of the film camera, reeling the film roll until it catches, and finds the perfect shot of his friends whispering and slowly becomes entranced by the actual scenic view. He captures the sky from a new perspective, blocking out all of his surroundings.

He shows his friends the sky, he shows them the car headlights shining on their hearts, and the sun shining on their faces. He captures the muddled sunshine through Michelle’s curls, a blush forming on her face from the camera being too close along with Peter holding it.

His heart skips a beat every time he photographs Michelle, finding a new beautiful thing about her to be lovestruck over.

He takes portraits of the both of his best friends, planning on printing all of these photos 100 times to hang them in his room, to give to them, and to place all over the photography critique and display wall. He sat on the cold gravel road and his friends had to dust him off. His photos look how he feels swinging off of buildings at night, finding one billboard sign, like outside of Matt’s apartment that illuminates the entire block in oversaturated neons. There weren’t iron bars and concrete filling the frame like his photos from the city, it was green trees with branches draping above them, brushing across their faces, a palette of turquoise, grays, and greens.

Peter brought color into the achromatic, washed out world.

There was a photograph he knew he was going to print to become poster-sized, the subject blown up huge because he wanted to reach out into the photo itself, not yet developed. He imagines his hands in the chemical infested waters, bleach and fixer pouring down his hands.

Ned and MJ both hang their abdomens off of the large metal railing, rockfall barriers they wrap around, the mountains blurred horizontally in the back. MJ’s hair carefully drapes over the edge of the railing, blowing in the wind. Ned stares past him, suspended in air right behind Michelle. The bars are set impossibly straight, but MJ and Ned’s body destroy the thirds in a beautiful, alluring way. Their arms dared to swing over the edge of the mountainside, throwing them into the flesh if the barred metal wasn’t holding them. Too close to the edge, too close to the sky.

“I got it,” he pants, unbelievably bashed at the one click of the shutter. The focal point is always set to 50mm and an aperture of 1.8.

It was like chemistry, physics, it was Murphy’s Law; Whatever can happen in his film roll, will happen.

He lowers the camera down from his face, MJ and Ned already out of there poses, he finds them smiling at him.

---

As promised in an unsaid way, MJ, Ned, and Peter cling onto each other to get the hang of skating. They each hurt themselves at least once quickly leaning over to lace their own skates leaning out of the car, parking nearby the lake and hiking across the icy-snow to get to the icy lake. The area is empty, and the mountains hover above them through the trees, sending a chill their way.

Not before long after testing the ice themselves and deeming it safe by the signs, they’re gliding along the icy lake and pulling each other down in each desperate tug to stay upright.

Ned points out, “I thought you were good at ice-skating! You’re Spider-Man!”

“Exactly!” he shrieks back, his left leg gliding in front of him causing him to flail his arms to find balance. “I web-swing! I don’t ice skate for a reason.”

Peter clears his throat, gliding over to MJ who watches Ned with a relaxed smile while he skates around the perimeter. Out of the three of them, he picks skating up the quickest, naturally fleeting over the ice with precision. “It’s not nice to hover, you know.”

He whips his head to the side to look at her, his ADHD brain reminding him it’s a joke and she’s messing with him before he falls into his own spiral of self-doubt. He smiles at her, her beige puffy coat covering her chin and she smiles into the enclosed space, looking up at him. Her hands are in her pocket, and he reaches playfully to warm his own hands up in the jacket.

“Uh, so--” he clears his throat, “it’s so cold out, right? I mean, the temperature is around freezing and we spent an hour in the mountains--”

“Yep, cold.”

“I had a lot of fun, like, I know we’re best friends and all and I’d do anything for you guys, but what you both did-- I got the perfect shot. I really did it,” he talks lamely, wondering how he still stumbles over his words around his crush he kissed in Europe. “You know, I’m probably just.. I think I’ll go take more pictures? I’ve never felt so alive and nostalgic taking pictures, and like Uncle Ben used to tell me-- Okay, I can’t take you looking at me like this.”

Amused, MJ smiles with his face too close to hers while they share body heat, hitching her shoulders. “You know I can hear your inner monologue, right?”

“It’s just-- you know, we’re hanging out. It’s not totally lame with me ruining it, we can forget this happened..”

She leans forward, leaning her forehead to his. “Do we have a reason not to?”

Right, yeah. They can do this, he thinks.

The feelings between them are confusing, and even though they’ve kissed, that was probably just a spur-of-the-moment thing, right? He did save her life and their friends, they were scared. And holding hands? That’s what all friends do--

His brain almost can’t process this all at once, and he thinks his cheeks can’t redden even more despite the cold and he’s sure she can see the tip of his ears burning pink--

He scrambles, nearly reeling back in the ice when she plants a kiss on his cheek. Her grin is huge, and she gently takes his hands out of her pockets and skates away, his heart rate struggles and he thinks this is how he’ll faint. From tachycardia.

Ned’s voice fills overhead, and he grabs his camera from the side of the frozen lake to join them again. Persistent chills run down his spine, the misty freeze coming from the ground. They let Peter stand in the middle, lacing their hands together to skate in a chain, disastrously. It was at this moment the teenagers truly regretted not taking skating in Central Park seriously until last year, their skills unabashedly catastrophic, giving it up after they realized they can celebrate winter break inside, baking for everyone in the apartment building.

The three of them realized Peter has his web-shooters equipped to their wrists when Ned clung onto him, nearly slipping and he tugged him up, and in their laughter released a web that shot into the snow across the lake. They stoof, starstruck, and could anyone blame them and their impulsivity? And so, what had started as simple skating to shoot film, documenting their lives beyond a surface-level way.

Ned retreats back to the sidelines, sitting a few feet away in the car on the side after skating for nearly an hour. The three of them pant in exhaustion, massaging their own limbs and stretching. Michelle attempted a jump on the ice while he went to go check on Ned, screeching and landing in an almost-split.

He decided to keep quiet about the slight buzz that begins forming at the back of his head, crediting it to nearly slipping every five seconds on the ice.

“Come take a break with me, I’m about to eat one of our many junk-food snacks until we can get lunch,” Ned offers after, he thinks he noticed the concern on his face from the haywire senses and doesn’t want to alert Michelle. He must suspect the way he starts shivering, too, so he sits in the passenger seat that faces the lake, besides Ned.

Ned looks at Peter, and he simply smiles back because he doesn’t want to worry his best friend. He chucks off his gloves, cleaning the camera from where it sat in ice and says he’ll be right back to take pictures in the smaller icy lake away from them.

He drags himself along the snow, taking big steps to account for the heavy skates on his feet towards the tiny icy lake besides them. He sees Ned and MJ gesture to each other, Michelle nodding her head towards him in concern, who makes eye contact with him and crosses her arms and makes a shivering motion in question. He shakes his head, sending a thumbs-up that he’s okay.

He’s reached the other side of the lake, taking pictures of Michelle skating from another angle in a snow covered patch. He shivers, the incessant cold gripping him. He feels it - a hitch, but it isn’t a shiver from the cold. He’s immediately retreating back when he hears a crunch, a kr, gripping his camera a bit tighter before throwing it to the side and he turns frantically, trying to locate the alert from his legs--

Closing his eyes, he listens to the noise of small ice particles separating, deciding where the safest spot to jump to is, letting his sense direct him somewhere else. He knew he was away from the mini lake, the frozen pond for this reason. It’s technically off the lake, but there must be a small terrain of water and he stumbles around the ice.

His skates are heavy on his aching feet, the snow seeping in from the sides that’s a few inches high, his heart racing in pure adrenaline. “MJ. Get off the ice now. Get off.”

“Peter, what--”

The glaze, icy surfaces are cracking beneath him, atoms shaking. His senses won’t stop screaming at him frantically, not guiding him except for up, and it might be too late to send his web-shooters above him, the shooters in the car with his gloves. He doesn’t have enough time to warn them to grab his web shooters for him before he’s crashing into the ground, through ice and water.

He suspends in the water, the cold engulfing his entire body, it’s unlike any cold he’s felt before, even after being trapped in snow after a fight with Mysterio. It’s unthinkable, striking his entire body. He blindly panics, pitch black in his vision and his throat burns raw as he screams.

Get up, get up, get up-- swim, swim--

His body is being carved out by millions of pinpricks, the cold seeping into his body and chilling his bones and the shock gouges his brain. The skates cause him to be less buoyant, his heavy legs scraping ice and getting stuck with each desperate kick and flutter to get to the surface.

He watches the bubbles rise up in the water from his mouth, screaming he can’t hear himself underwater. He didn’t have the chance to suck in a breath, his exhalation running out and twisting and tearing at his lungs. Each cell screams breathe--

He can’t hear anymore.

Loud ringing replaces his senses, he reaches blindly upwards and his heart rattles in his chest. The freezing temperature below the ice seizes his body. He jackknifes upwards, realizing his movement is clumsy and unreflexive.

His left skate becomes stuck in a chunk of ice, and he’s back in Europe for a moment. Heat blindly covers his face, the sensation all lost. Behind his closed eyes, a hot summer heat casts over him, but he’s being burned from Mysterio sending fire his way. He’s on Titan again, cells ripping to shreds again.

He lets himself succumb to the drowsiness, reaching up once last time to feel around as the opening of the ice flees. Even if he did make it out, his lungs feel too full in his chest, he’d need to get rid of all the liquid from his lungs fast, hoping he doesn’t asphyxiate.

He thinks he sees shadows dancing above him in the water, he’s hopeful his friends would dare reach inside for him, but it wouldn’t be fair for him. He’s drifting, he slowly diminishes away and he’s so far away from them, a dizzying sunlight blinding him and allowing him to close his eyes once more. His brain shuts off, and his senses stop screaming and allow him to let go - the panic leaves him.

He thinks he’s dreaming when he feels a hand in his, another grabbing his wrist. This can’t be right, he’s about to fall asleep into the world of unconsciousness. He’s too weak to fight the tug upwards, seeing stars all in front of him. A black canvas streaked with colors, twinkling in the night sky. He thinks he hits the air again, but he can’t take a breath in so it must not be real. He feels his body being tossed down onto the ground like a ragdoll, dragging through the snow that feels hot, lava on his skin. Is he eulogizing himself, a cynical last vision that he truly did live?

His vision comes back, he thinks, unable to cough and his legs feel ready to burst inside his body. He’s turned to his side, snowflakes falling from the sky. He thinks he can see very single snowflake in front of him, dancing for him, he thinks behind the ringing he can hear shouting, wake up!

He wants to listen to each voice, millions of seconds passing between each frantic shout. He.. he must be allowed to close his eyes.. He wants to be taken back to the lake after succumbing to rest. He falls, stars accompanying him.

---

MJ’s boots begin to slip on the edge of the ice, bits of icicles falling into the water where Peter thrashes. “Shit, shit, shit,” she cries out, perching herself safely to grab onto his hand in the water with Ned searching frantically for his web-shooters and anything else they can use to pull Peter out of the water with.

After a minute, she’s dragging him out of the water with newfound strength, watching his blue body retreat from the water and she screams out, sobbing now. She won’t give up. She won’t give up on him, Aunt May, or on them.

“Hang off, babe, I’ve got you,” she says, looking down at him as he desperately tries to gasp for air. She begins chest compressions, unable to think. She never thought she’d be fast on the spot for an emergency, but she thinks she screams at Ned to call 911, forgetting he’s still on the line with them.

Once she gets a pulse, she and Ned carry Peter to the car. They frantically cover his body in every coat and blanket they find, thanking G-d May has spares in the trunk in case of an emergency. She shrugs her coat off, leaving her sweater on. She springs herself into the backseat, Ned doing the same in the front with the heat already blasting. She’s frantically explaining to whoever is on the other end of the phone, voice breaking as she begs for help. “He’s- he’s breathing on his own now, but he’s blinking at us. What do I do--”

A few minutes pass, she’s not sure how she hasn’t passed out yet. May’s murmuring in her ear through the phone, that Tony is talking to Ned while he drives and that he’s going to talk to her next. She’s pretty sure she agrees, but she’s curled up around Peter, his body on her lap. She gives him warmth, listening to Tony spew medical terminology at her and how to treat hypothermia.

“You’re gonna be okay. I promise. You can’t die on us,” she whispers into the air, the car engine roaring.

Once Peter returns, he wonders if he’s dead when he’s conscious again. His brain registers warmth and lumps beneath him. He blearily opens his eyes, the action too much, his head is in someone’s lap. They run their hands gently through his cold hair. He feels hands around his socked-feet, and he furrows his brows in confusion. He begins to shift a little, feeling a gentle pressure on his arm and leg. There’s warmth all around his body, which is heavy but safe, it's as safe as May’s arms, Ben’s arms during a thunderstorm that shook the building, Tony’s arms after Titan. He closes his eyes, moaning and he’s ready to drift--

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” May sighs above him.

His first thought is to gasp for air, coughing and feeling his lungs clattering in his chest, his sternum erupting in pain. It feels like a hacksaw to his sternum when he breathes.

He whimpers quietly, hearing soft shushing above him. It’s a different sound from the constant headache of the ringing, but he hears the familiar whirr of the refrigerator and picks up four familiar heartbeats. His heart feels surmounted by grief, over the sea, left far away.

He blinks his eyes open past tears, recognizing the bookcase in front of him in the living room of the apartment, with a warm body at his feet on the couch. He’s in May’s lap, “Peter, hey,” May says softly, grounding him by placing a hand on his back. “You’re okay. I’m right here.”

She places her chin to his hair, sighing, and he sags into her arms. He thinks his feet are in Tony’s lap, his foot catching his side.

“Oh, kiddo,” Tony soothes, squeezing his foot gently.

“MJ? Ned?” He rasps out, no voice there and he turns frantically.

“Don’t worry, baby,” May says softly, he almost didn’t catch it. “MJ’s asleep in the chair besides Tony, Ned’s asleep in the other. We’re all crashing from adrenaline.

His head pounds at his movements, his arms feel sluggish, but he pushes himself off of May to find his friends, safe. “Oh-- fuck. Thank, G-d.”

“Language,” May admonishes kindly, settling him further into the couch comfortably by shifting pillows. “How are you feeling?”

Noticing hers and Tony’s eyes on him, searching, both their phones to the side of them and the window allowing pink and purple streaks inside, painting the furniture and the gold illustrating each facial feature of theirs. His friends sleep in the shadows, covered in soft blankets.He switches gazes between them. Tony moves him gently, wrapping his blankets tightly around him.

He’s guessing May removed some of his soaking clothes, exchanging his clothes and he notices the fresh white cotton t-shirt on his body, smelling of fresh fabric softener.

“Kid, you’re going to give me an aneurysm one of these days. Or, better yet, you’re going to burst my arteries yourself.” He fixed Peter with a pointed look, sighing. “I mean, you’re almost in college. I shouldn’t still be doing this.”

Everything he says comes off lightheartedly, but every word is laced with concern. He desperately wants to get argue back, but he knows today is his fault. He ignored his senses, and he doesn’t have a good enough excuse. Would he have been able to save his friends if it happened to them?

Like Tony can sense exactly what he’s thinking, he continues to assure him. “You’re hypothermic. You were blue, Pete, but your dislocated knee mixed in isn’t the worst you’ve done..”

He sighs, looking away from Tony and opting to listen to the kettle in the kitchen, May shifting his head off of her lap and into the couch cushion to it off and stares at Tony’s phone on the table.

“It was stupid, I know. I’m so sorry, everyone,” he finally says, none of the words being announced like he wants, his throat tender and unhealed, lifting his head off the pillow and moans in pain. He’s able to sit up, leaning heavily against a pillow with his elbow propping him up. He ignores the piercing pain in his ribs. ”I checked the water. I-- I wasn’t thinking, I guess.”

Tony sounded as frantic as he did back when he first yelled at him after the nearly-disastrous ferry incident. “That’s part of the problem. You are thinking, kid. You’d never do this willfully. You always jump the gun, which is something also great about you.. It can also be a great flaw.”

“Did they get hurt?” he whispers, turning back to the two teens on the smaller one-person couches.

“Nobody except for you, kiddo,” May reassures him, walking back in with a steaming mug in her hands. He takes this moment to redirect his gaze to his arm when he grabs it, his stiff elbow poked with a needle. “IV, baby. Needed to warm you up with warm saline.”

She sighs, sitting on the glass coffee table in front of him and not bothering to move the newspaper. “We’re worried, Peter. I can’t protect you like I need to, want to.”

He collapses back down into the pillow, oblivious to May and Tony’s secret communication with each other. May, nodding for Tony to sit beside her and in front of Peter. It probably isn’t comfortable for him, but he looks over to May for answers. She furrows her brows, her mouth set in a line.

He almost smiles, seeing the two of them in front of him again when he’s not dying. The relief quickly turns to worry when he remembers what happened, guilt refusing to subside. He’s huddled in the couch, like a cold, rejected dog, signs of frostbite all over him. It’s his own fault - he didn’t listen to his sense. The dark, insidious fear of death looms over his head once more, he really scared his friends today. And himself.

Murphy’s Law comes back to his head, an anxiety swirling in his stomach. It’s an ugly, black hurricane feeling, especially seeing the dejection and defeat written on both their faces.

“I--” he can’t manage, but the two of them see hesitation flicker across his face, voice too quiet and broken. “I’m just- I messed up. T’ny ta-taught me so much, I didn’t listen--” he cuts himself off, his voice unrecognizable, eyes widening in surprise, a realization.

“It was all my f’ult. I sc’red them, badly.” Pressing himself deeper into the corner of the pillow, tears overflow his eyes, hot streaks across his face he doesn’t expect. A shiver racks through him, not from the cold.

Tony leans over closer to him, his breath warm even through the blankets and on his exposed arm, his own hand hovering above him in hesitation, the inhibition set across his face. His mentor takes a deep breath in, gently grabbing the back of the couch and placing a kiss to the top of his head. He must’ve really fucked up today, he thinks.

He watches the fear streak across Tony’s eyes, too familiar to Titan. Peter feels deeply rooted in the couch, frozen solid from his core. He doesn’t know what the end of the story is, fear ebbing away, and he really looks at Peter face on. “I’m sorry.”

Peter feels frustrated again, just like the morning when half the world that died was brought back, feeling alone.

He lets his tears take over him, letting May hold him on the couch, feeling too weak to do anything else. She ends up pulling Peter into her lap again, rubbing circles on her shoulder and letting her own tears escape from her eyes, some falling onto his white t-shirt. He trembles under her, Tony reaching over to squeeze his hand, the arm with an IV. He soothes small circles with his thumb, drawing patterns on his skin and turns to May with owlishly wide eyes.

“It’s alright, kiddo,” Tony whispers. “We’ve got you. May’s got you. Your friends are right here. You’re right here.”

It takes some time, but eventually Peter falls asleep like that, May and Tony’s vice-like grip never once loosening on him.

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