#I was painting this through the trauma of the weekend which is why I went so hard on it

[seeminglydark]

‘The past is in the past, it wasn’t meant to last.’ ✨

Sully and Carrie are from my webcomic Mil-Liminal

[stashandtell]

Newest Fic: Ranking the Weasleys

Hermione was drunk. It was all Ginny’s fault.

“RANK MY BROTHERS, Hermione! The people deserve to know!”

“OKAY! Okay. FINE. I give in! I’ll rank all your brothers, based on their looks AND PERSONALITIES. You have such a morbid fascination with how shaggable I find your brothers!”

“You’re STALLING!”

Hermione huffed as she tucked into a ball and then shoved Ginny in the butt with her lint-covered sock. This was a normal girls’ night for them. Lots of wine, shouting, and playful-but-catty roughhousing.

Read Ranking the Weasleys on AO3

- - - -

I'm so happy to be sharing this on the deadline I set for myself, which is today, Hermione's birthday, 9/19/24. As a very new fanfiction writer, who is committed to enjoying this hobby as long as the muse is with me on it, I had marked a handful of bdays of some of my favorite characters as occasions to post fics this year. It's been a nice way to stick with projects and put some artificial pressure on myself. Originally I was working to release a piece based around Hermione getting a belated Moon Party thrown for her by the Gryff girls. Moon parties are typically thrown for young people when they start menstruation if their friends and/or families are into that sort of thing. I'm still working on that fic but I did quickly push pause on it last weekend when, at 2 AM, after letting myself indulge in almost a full day of writing a different fic, I had the seed of the idea for Ranking the Weasleys and cranked out a very formidable first draft in 2 hours. (Yes, this means I went to sleep juuuuust before the sun was preparing to rise. Worth it.) When the words flow, you go with it. It also happens that I'm participating in The Weasley Clock Discord's Bingo Collection (Event? Fest? Bingo-Thing?) and this covers my square for "Ginny Weasley" quite nicely!

- - - - About Fred, George, Bill, and Fetishizing War Wounds These are some initial thoughts I had on the subject and is in no way a comprehensive analysis of the topic.

I wasn't expecting to discover that Fred's battle injury and recovery included him using a wheelchair for the rest of his life in this story but it came out in the writing process. I thought deeply about how, in many Harry Potter fanfics, we see examples of fetishizing elements of people's injuries or hardships (I say this in a non-judgemental way. I truly was pondering it.) If you read Dramione, think about how Draco's Sectumsempra scars are sometimes described. "Scars are sexy" is often a thing in our fandom (and in real life for some!) and it paints a complex picture of attraction, reverence, and attractiveness in a shorthand, accessible way to many readers, from writers. Especially when writers are writing from inside the private minds of characters, the characters are allowed to have thoughts that may not be appropriate or sensitive to others' identities, sense of self, language preferences, etc. It's why many of us love reading fiction; we get an intimate look into the messy, imperfect, and sometimes illicit thought processes of characters. It can be enthralling. But, for this particular, shorter one-shot, I wanted to try to be consistent about how I approached how Hermione was objectifying and trash-talking the characters for many things they either had control over or were core parts of their developed personalities. But what about George's gold ear? I thought about this too. Yes, Hermione thinks the ear is "very fun and cheeky," but she's not into how he's missing an ear or saying that she is attracted the prosthetic because it's a prosthetic or symbolizes a trauma he went through-- my intention was for her to make a comment on the choice of it being solid gold. The opulence of the ear prosthetic was a "fun and cheeky" choice of George's. I hope that came across. I deleted a whole section about how Hermione found Bill to be sexier after his attack from Greyback, not because of the injury but because it changed his mindset about how he wants to protect others.

"...even after he was attacked, he grew even more assured in himself which just made him hotter. And it wasn’t the mild-lycanthropy that made him more confident..."

I couldn't make it work without it being clunky and preachy, so I cut it. I wanted to make sure Bill's scars and the effects of a werewolf affliction weren't portrayed as a turn-on in the very same piece where I was trying to navigate a sensitivity and neutrality to Fred's use of a chair. Sometimes it IS best to "murder your darlings," amiright? I'll admit, I fell in love with Fred in this fic and how he's hot and cold with Hermione, even though he's pretty successful in the dating field with other wixen. Maybe this fic will inspire something longer [shrugs]. I grew fond of some of the implied backstories that grew out of this absolute brain-barf I was seemingly compelled to type out through tired, tired eyes. - - - -

A while ago, I drafted a post ranking all my favorite Hermione/Weasley sibling ships, and it was nice to have such a hefty post pre-written that fit in with all this. It was likely the base of the fic I would write-- cooking along on the back burner of my brain until it was ready to served out. I appreciate that my inner-monologue-made-outer-tumblr-posts may be another way of puzzling out plots I may eventually create! Check It Out:

Nobody Asked For This: My Rankings of the Hermione x Weasley Ships with REASONS (tumblr post)

Some Recommendations for Fics That Influenced My Weasley-Ship Rankings (tumblr post)

Ranking the Weasleys, a Harry Potter fanfic by stashandtell on AO3

[nythtak]

Thought it'd be fun to do a little drabble soooo-

Cattonquick Oxford Days - the first cigarette

(This is based in the Maneater AU - unless I change my mind on details later - but can be read as in canon universe)

The lighter fails to catch the first couple of times Felix tries it. But after a final, despairing shake of the crappy thing, the flame sputters to life.

“Thank fuck,” he mumbles around the ciggie, and hurriedly brings the lighter up. April’s swung in with far too much chill, because fuck England, right? No spring for them, nooope. Just horrible grey rainy days, where even brief lulls like this evening are tarnished by cold winds.

He’s regretting not grabbing a jacket when he had chance to, and he eyes Oliver’s long-sleeves jealously. They’re on their way back from the pub, and it’s still early enough that most streetlights feel unnecessary. After a of couple hours there Felix realised he just wasn’t feeling it tonight, that stickiness of going through the motions and not enjoying himself like usual, where even a few pints couldn’t soften it up.

So when Oliver gave him a nudge, mentioned he has an essay he really needs to work on, Felix leapt at the chance to head out. He has his own pile of coursework to dive into before the Easter holidays start. Maybe speed through a chunk of it tonight, get that late night focus on, and then he can decide how much is usable tomorrow.

He’s glad he decided to stick it out at Oxford over the coming break. Originally it was more about keeping his word on staying at university all year, rather than nipping home every holiday - or even every other weekend, like some silly sods do. He went as far as to swear off a trip abroad this school year, fully committed to the uni life, which means no fluttering off to sunnier skies.

He aims a glower up at the dark clouds far above them. Curse thy existence.

“Felix?”

Felix’s head snaps down, and down, and he has to grin. Oliver is so short. Like, okay, so he’s not actually super-duper short. A bit below average, perhaps, and around the height of most girls. But he’s a lot shorter than Felix, which is what really matters.

It means he’s the perfect height - practically made for it - for Felix to sling an arm around his shoulders and drag him into his side. Oliver runs a bit cool, but he’s still a damn sight warmer than the nippy evening air.

“Yeah, mate?” Felix takes a pull from the ciggie, careful not to blow it all in Oliver’s face. Would be awfully rude. But that does get him thinking about how Oliver doesn’t smoke, and he frowns at him. “You know, I don’t think you ever said why you don’t smoke.”

Could it be something to do with his family? Cigarettes are a huge leap from heroin and meth and whatever else, but traumas can be multi-layered, can’t they? A full-on aversion to anything even related. But Oliver is clearly battling through it, going to the pub and clubs where alcohol abounds, not even flinching at all the casual drug use their group gets up to.

“Just not keen.” Oliver shrugs slightly, and it’s interesting to feel the motion of it under his arm. Makes him want to squeeze Oliver a bit. His hand slides down to cup Oliver’s bicep rather than hanging loosely, but he holds off on the full grabby. For now.

“So you’ve tried one before?”

Oliver hesitates, but shakes his head. He’s looking ahead rather than at Felix, and while he does have lovely thick hair, that isn’t quite the view Felix wants currently.

So he brings them to a stop, Oliver stumbling into him a bit and looking up questioningly. There it is. Christ, Oliver’s eyes seem to get bluer every time Felix catches a glimpse. Like, with each additional second he knows Oliver, he’s able to see more of him. Another droplet of paint on the colour palette, swirled in with patient brush strokes.

“If you’ve never tried it…” Felix puts the ciggie between his lips, just so he can flip his hand and pluck it out again. Holding it filter-first toward Oliver with an inviting smile. “How can you know you won’t like it?”

Now, Felix would never pressure anyone into doing something they don’t want to. That would be terrible manners. All he’s doing here is giving Oliver the chance to expand his horizons. Indulge in a little fun, like he’s clearly not had chance to- well, probably in his whole life.

Felix has been making up for that. He’s fully embraced showing Oliver the highlights of uni life, and it’s been an absolute blast so far. Letting Oliver have a go at smoking is just another part of that.

“I dunno, mate.” The corner of Oliver’s mouth ticks up as he looks from the ciggie to Felix. “They’re not great for your health, right?”

The little right? at the end softens what might’ve been an annoying admonishment, to something that makes Felix smirk. “All part of the appeal. If we only did what was healthy, we’d be a proper dull lot.” He raises his eyebrows and tips the cigarette closer to Oliver’s lips, his pinky finger grazing Oliver’s chin. “You’re not dull, are you, Ollie?”

He knows most of his friends think Oliver is boring. That he outlived any novelty within the first week; Felix’s unlikely saviour from a tutorial scolding, the scholarship boy with the funny accent. Farleigh has certainly made his opinion clear, his pissy attitude the real bore around here.

They just don’t get Oliver. None of them.

Nah, Felix is the only one who gets the real Ollie, the one Oliver trusts and opens up to. They’re already best mates, fitting together like two puzzle pieces. And the way Oliver looks at him - yeah, it can get a bit much at times, but it’s all part of Oliver’s charm, really. He’s completely genuine and clearly thinks the world of Felix, so obviously he can’t filter that intensity down. Felix would never ask him to. He accepts Oliver exactly as he is.

Oliver takes the cigarette, pinched between his thumb and forefinger as he eyes it like it might bite him. Or give him lung cancer.

Felix would give him a drumroll if he could. He settles for an encouraging shake and cheering, “Go oooooon, Oll-aaaaay!”

And Oliver does.

Not that there was ever any doubt. But it’s still satisfying in a warm, buzzy way to watch Oliver take a drag, lips pursed and the shadows on his cheeks deepening a little. Takes it like a pro, his Ollie, and it’s only once Oliver’s eyes close that Felix realises they’ve been locked in a staredown.

Then Oliver breathes out, and Felix is hit by a faceful of smoke.

The moment his coughing fit is done, he grabs a hastily apologising Oliver by the shoulder, snatches the ciggie back, and gets revenge.

[v3nusxsky]

Hello Mars!! Hope all is well. Hoping to request a student agere Larissa fic!

It’s parents weekend and r is a shapeshifter and when stressed or nervous she regresses to the age she feels. R’s parents come and they know (or don’t know, up to you) that R regresses which annoys them and tell her to grow up. So when R is feeling overwhelmed, they run to Larissa in tears and regresses in her arms. Maybe R stays in her arms while Larissa finishes her work and basically loves R like her own🥺

-🐈‍⬛

Precious Angel

*Authors note~ I love this idea sm and I can't wait to write it *

Trigger warnings~ age regression unsupportive parents shapeshifter r

Prompt~see ask^^^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Regressing was something you tried to keep private from your family, they weren't the most supportive parents in the world, especially when you told them about your sexuality. They'd practically disowned you at this point. So that's why when you were told they'd visit for this parent's weekend all you felt was dread. Why now? You'd attended Nevermore now for three years, so why on earth would the visit now after leaving you here three years ago and telling you to forget their existence, you were a ward of the state as far as they were concerned. Nothing more than a freak.

You still remember it as clear as day and yet now you'd have to face them again. The trauma they had caused you was the whole reason why Doctor Kimbot explored the idea of regression, your shape shifting ability adding an element that allowed you to reclaim that part of your childhood. Larissa was the only other person who knew you regressed, she caught you in your toddler state crying and stumbling your way through the Nevermore halls late at night. And that is when she met Oaklyn. You decided to give her a name that you think would've fit you well and it helped separate your mindsets.

Larissa and Oaklyn hit it off, Larissa falling in love with the little girls toothy grin and infectious giggles. She immediately took on the caregiver role for Oaklyn and you knew if you needed to let Oaklyn out she would always be safe with Larissa, her motherly instincts made both you and Oaklyn feel incredibly safe.

Your parents had been at Nevermore a total of two hours and you were already stressed beyond belief. Their constant nitpicking and comments where driving you insane and making your ache with a sadness you thought was long gone. You could feel Oaklyn wanting to slip but with them here it felt near enough impossible for you to let her. That's when they found Oaks box. Larissa had gifted the little girl the box made out of oak wood, painted a nice Saige green with her name in gold letters. The box contained all of her little items.

When your parents followed you to your dorm and spotted the box you felt your stomach sickly twist with fear. To say they hit the roof was an understatement. Your dad went redder than a tomato and your mother began to throw Oaks items on the floor, effectively breaking a few and scuffing the beautiful hand made box. You lost your control then and there, Oak slipped, tears streaming down the two year olds cheeks as she looked up to see your mother and father breaking her items.

That was all it took for the little girl to burst out in tears and flee the room, followed by insults being hurled her way. The little girl instinctively found her way to Larissa Weems office, without knocking she pushed open the semi shut door and stormed in. She was hysterically crying and picking at her clothes which was scaring the headmistress. "Hi baby" the blonde greeted the little girl only to be met with a teary "momma" cut off by hiccups and her hands outstretched in her signature "grabby hands" motion.

"Oh baby, come to momma" was all the toddler needed to hear before slamming her tiny body onto the older woman's. "Momma, mean people broke special box" she sobbed clutching onto Larissa like a life line. "Oh baby your box is broke? Momma can try fix it or get a new one okay? What caused the slip love?" Oak pouted and took a few deep breaths, "parents mean things going leave me sad" you mumbled as you nuzzled into the woman.

She scooped you up into her arms and moved back to her desk, settling you on her lap as you snuggled impossibly closer. "You're okay my love bug, thank you for finding momma darling, I'll make sure it's all okay don't you worry. Mommas so proud of her girl, you just rest pretty baby" she murmured rocking you gently which happened to soothe the two year old to sleep as she clung to Larissa as if she'd disappear. "I'm here love bug, I'm never gonna leave you. You don't deserve those awful parents darling. Mommas gonna protect you" she promised with a sweet kiss to your forehead.

Word count~ 853

[faunastanza]

I was recently thinking about sylvan. He appears to be jupet's and shizu's dad, and is probably a necropossum (I think it's mentioned somewhere that jupet is a nekopossum, which makes lily a cat. So, there's a "cat" species?)

anyway, sylvan's disliked by neon, but it's unclear if it's because he's an absent dad (it's kinda implied in that one comic) or for another reason(s). there's also a vn (that i can't remember which) that shows sylvan experimenting on a creature (paige?) and xenon was there too. He said some cryptic stuff there. Can't remember the details, i hate those VNs

I was looking through the discord doc looking for more info on sylvan, and i can't remember if this was outright stated (because i can't pay attention to the stuff from the ms paint rants era) or if it's pure speculation by discord members, but apparently lily has tried to kill sylvan many times, but he can't die because... he is a necropossum and/or he and xenon created paige, thus if sylvan dies paige doesn't exist, and that's... something that can't happen?

wish he showed up some more honestly

Sylvan remains a constant mystery! He's still around since he was mentioned in the Changing Storgo VN, although we haven't seen him in person since back in the MS Paint days. He IS a necropossum if I remember right, so if someone kills him he can just come back to life, and Jupet seemed to inherit that ability from him. Lily however can ALSO come back to life and does not seem to be a necro anything, just a cat with a huge mane, so I still don't know what's going on there. I think Lily and Neon are stuck in some kind of reality/timeline loop where neither of them can die for whatever reason.

There are a few things for why Neon hates him. Lily hates Sylvan, and Neon's dating Lily, so she probably picked up some of that from her. This was the vibe for Weekend Getaway. They apparently also worked together at some point, with Neon saying she taught some things she learned from him to Jupet. It got more serious as the MS Paint VNs kicked into gear with Sylvan doing some evil thing to Jupet and when Neon suspected what he was up to (maybe about Jupet, maybe about going to Ever Hopeful), she went and told Lily who didn't believe her. Although it turned out Lily knew what he was doing and lied about it to Neon because she knew Neon couldn't keep a secret (Schoolyard Disease, the last VN for ROM). This came up later again in Circlet of the Sun where Lily said she didn't blame Neon for her feelings about what Sylvan did to Jupet and that it wasn't her fault.

What exactly Sylvan did to Jupet has been left vague but it's been heavily implied to be molestation of some sort. There IS the possibility though that Sylvan helped Jupet figure out how to put their soul into Beleth, thus making them die for a while and scare Lily. At one point Shizu (Jupet's sister) tells Xenon (Neon's sister) that if Sylvan does to Jupet what he did to her, then she'll kill him herself, to which Xenon did nothing. Which doesn't sound like teaching her how to put her soul in a doll. Krypto also got molested by someone and Neon was really upset about that, but I don't know if that was Sylvan or some other person. Honestly this is all just Glip working through their childhood trauma though, consistency isn't the goal. It's so sad to me that as a child Glip told their mom about what their dad tried to do to them, then their mom told them to be quiet and not make waves about it, and then later on when a minor came to adult Glip about Marl creeping on them, Glip slandered them as a liar and harrassed them for years. The cycle of abuse really takes no prisoners.

Sylvan and Xenon DID experiment on a Pixie that was implied to be Paige but also Cress and Min?? and that never got resolved, I don't know what that was about. They did a "splice test" on it. Sylvan seemed interested in becoming a God and finding the way to Heaven's Keys, and also was clever enough to edit TAL to not listen to Lily or anyone else anymore, which seems like it'd take some chops. He's only ever actually appeared in person once or twice though.

That zine is super weird and the plea to join their culty discord is creepy! It's Angelbox Issue 2 if anyone wants to see for themselves, has pics and comics people submitted with angel-like themes done in the Floraverse angel style (with such all-stars as Finalcord, Minor A, Bex and Sila!! contributing), and at the end Glip roleplayed as Hothead (I think?) to leave comments on all of them. Just strange all around. Most of it's taken up with Glip yelling at Pengo, although there is something interesting there. Other anon who was asking about AmdTV, I forgot about this!

AmdTV shows up in the zine! My memory of this is a bit hazy now, but I think AmdTV was actually a knockoff of one of Pengo's characters or designs. I don't know much about Pengo or his work but Glip already stole one of his character's designs for Toxinuate (they say it was an accident but come on) so them stealing another one for AmdTV also wouldn't be a surprise. That last shot there is definitely AmdTV from the tail and feet, even though the dialogue has nothing to do with her and is just Glip whining about Pengo. I'm not sure how much the connection with Pengo affects the times and places AmdTV shows up, but it's an intriguing piece of the puzzle...

[awkwardgtace]

Secret Brother Pt1

New OCs let's go. Trying out something idk if I'll write more with these guys. Realizing some bit of traumatic past seems required in my ocs so far.

TW: mentions of abandonment. Later parts will have mentions of a borrower being treated like a pet this is entirely painted in how fuckin wrong it is and how it added to the trauma.

Part 2 Part 3 (Final)

Secret Brother Part 1

Everything started when Mikhail’s students were talking about some weird happenings in their dorm. Things were going missing and a voice was heard commonly late at night. They started to say they thought it was haunted. He offered to host a study session to disprove anything, making sure to bring his shoulder bag. It was easy enough to leave open on the ground and should be tempting enough for the ‘ghost’ to climb in. He kept a close eye out and sat near a wall he thought he saw a crack in. He was starting to worry that this wouldn’t work, until he saw a small form climbing up the edge of his bag. He didn’t like doing this, but he knew the students in this dorm were more likely to share their discovery. They were being too obvious here, probably someone who just struck out on their own. Now the dorm ‘ghost’ would be somewhere much safer and could learn the skills they needed.

Mikhail was anxious for the remainder of the session. He couldn’t be obvious for the sake of the one in his bag, and the others around him. He carefully placed his bag on his shoulder, opting to carry the books he’d used out as he continued speaking with the students. He rushed to his car, placing the bag safely on the floor of the passenger seat. He took the drive slower than normal, eyes constantly drifting to his bag. He parked and rushed straight to his door. Once inside he placed his bag on the ground, unzipped it, and pulled out a random book. He quickly walked off, settling down in a chair pretending to read. He was keeping an eye out for when his passenger left the bag. After an hour he decided to just leave the bag on the floor for a few days, give the little one time to get out.

It took a few days, but he finally heard the ‘ghost’ acting. It started with a clatter sound from his kitchen late at night. He held his breath, waiting for another sign. A voice that sounded somewhat young started mumbling. He wanted to get involved and help, but it’s never gone well in the past. He would just stay as an oblivious human and they could figure this all out. At least that was his promise to himself, but the little one was far from subtle. He could hear them talking to themselves on a daily basis, they were leaving messes, and worst of all they left trails back to their entrances. Mikhail had promised himself he wouldn’t get involved anymore, but he couldn’t leave this. He sighed, gathering what he needed to help out the inexperienced borrower.

He faked a phone call claiming he’d be gone for a few days then left shutting the door loudly. He went around to the back of his house, pulling out a fishing hook with a line attached and hanging it on the windowsill of the kitchen window. He’d left it open just enough someone the size of his guest could squeeze through. He focused on the feeling he’d grown used to over the years and watched the world slowly grow around him. In only a few seconds the world towered around him. He started climbing quickly, a little out of practice since he’d gotten his size under control.

He squeezed through the open window, reminding himself to open it just a bit more next time. Once inside he froze, he never once considered the borrower might recognize him. He considered squeezing out the window again, but was stopped before taking a step. He heard a small clatter, and saw a poorly made paper clip hook fail to catch. He heard a groan from below as the paper clip fell from the counter. He just had to hope they wouldn’t notice the similarities between the human they were living with and the new borrower in the house. He took a steadying breath then marched to the edge of the counter. The borrower was already murmuring to themselves, it was clearly a problem.

“You know you’ll get caught talking to yourself like that right?” he called down. The source of the failed hook screamed, clearly not expecting anyone to be here. Mikhail hadn’t been wrong, this was definitely a kid. They were probably a teenager, and honestly didn’t look like they’d had an easy time. He took his own hook, placing it down and throwing the string off the edge. “Climb up and we can talk. Don’t want to be too loud in case the human is around.”

The kid had no hesitation climbing up, that much trust could be dangerous. Although most people this size trusted each other almost blindly. They were worn out and panting once they were at the top of the counter, clearly new to borrowing. Had he accidentally kidnapped a young curious kid? He’d find out if anyone else was there once he’d trained the kid a bit. He gave them another minute before finally starting with his plan.

“Kid, why were you making so much noise? Half of being a borrower is being quiet especially when out in the open.” he said. The kid opened their eyes and Mikhail realized he’d made a mistake. Their eyes were watery, they must have been terrified. The kid sniffled a bit as they finally got their breath back.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” they said, “my parents didn’t really teach me how to borrow yet. W-we were on our way to a new home when a storm hit and I got separated. I wound up here by accident. I climbed in the human’s bag, I thought I saw loose threads I could use, along with some food. Th-they closed the bag on me and I wound up in this house.”

“Where were you before?” Mikhail asked. He wondered if there was a chance he could find the kid’s parents at the school.

“I’m not sure, I was dragged by water for a long time. When I got out of it I-I ran to the first building I found. I’m pretty sure they got dragged away too...” the kid’s voice was quiet. They seemed to know they weren’t going to find their parents. It sounded like there may be more to the story the kid didn’t want to mention yet. Mikhail would do everything he could to make sure they could survive on their own. He was getting attached already and he hated it.

“Well I was planning to stay here for a few days before moving on again,” he started. “I can teach you the basics. I happen to know you picked a pretty good human to live with. This one doesn’t tend to investigate small noises, but he has gotten curious from times I took too much.”

“Wait wait, you'll teach me? W-why? Isn’t it better to just move on and leave me to whatever happens?”

“Who told you that?” Mikhail’s voice went icy. The kid lost their family and just needed some guidance.

“Well, I uh, I met other borrowers who always said that. Then my parents too...sometimes.”

Mikhail was ready to scream hearing that. He’d dealt with people like that a lot since he lost his parents. He wrapped his arm around the kid’s shoulders and pulled him into a half hug. They froze but soon melted into the contact, he started rubbing his arm on their arm to calm them. The kid started to cry and Mikhail just let them. He knew they were safe and later, he’d say they should be careful. He let them go as long as they wanted, he knew sometimes you just needed times like this. The kid was the first one to pull away, looking a bit ashamed as they did so.

“I’m sorry about that,” they said. “We were lucky the human didn’t come back, I could have gotten us both caught. I-if this is where you usually live I can leave. I don’t want to put you at risk.”

“I offered to teach you, didn't I? No one has to leave, besides I tend to be a bit more nomadic. My name is Mik, he and him,” he said.

“I-I,” the kid shook his head, “My name is Ian, he and him too, I think. Are you really all right to teach me?”

“Don’t worry about the he and him thing too much, if something else feels right just tell me, ok Ian?”

Ian nodded his head. Mikhail took the time to really assess him now that he didn’t have to worry about being an accidental kidnapper. He didn’t look like he’d had much to eat recently, although that wasn’t uncommon for borrowers. His clothes were a bit baggy, and needed some patching. Mikhail may try to pull some tricks with his shifting to get him some better clothes. Ian seemed to be at least a full inch shorter than Mikhail, which wasn’t reassuring if they ever met when he was human.

“Ian, how old are you?” he finally asked. He needed an idea before deciding the next steps.

“I-I’m seventeen, or well I’m almost seventeen.”

Mikhail nodded, a little surprised he was that old. Ian was just a teenager after all. He knew what to do then. First they’d make a better hook, then practice having it catch on tables and counters. Then how to grab supplies without leaving a trace. He’d leave him with the fish hook once the few days he gave himself were up. The fish hook and line is sturdier, and would last with fewer replacements longer. Perfect for someone still just learning, plus he could just start a collection of random hooks to leave out.

“All right, here's the plan,” Mikhail explained. It didn’t take more than that for Ian to get excited. He trailed behind Mikhail hanging on every word, mouthing the important things. Mikhail felt like he had a little brother with how this was going. He couldn’t deny that he was enjoying being with Ian like this. It’s been a while since he really spent time with people outside of work. By the time the weekend ended and ‘Mik’ had to move on, neither was happy with it. Mikhail knew Ian would get better without trouble, but he didn’t want to leave him alone.

They were sitting in Ian’s home, set up a lot better with the supplies they grabbed safely over two days. Ian had gotten into a habit of staying almost on top of Mikhail while in the home, like he thought he’d disappear. It left Mikhail with a sour feeling, knowing he had to leave the kid at least for the week. He jumped a little as that thought crossed his mind. He could, probably, keep this up on the weekends. Eventually Ian would see the human’s face and he may put two and two together, until then he could keep this up. He’d only come back until he was positive Ian wasn’t being reckless, if he went a week without seeing him then ‘Mik’ would come to say goodbye. It would work fine and then Ian wouldn’t have to deal with everything that’s happened alone.

“Can I go with you?” Ian asked, it knocked Mikhail from his thoughts. Mikhail looked at him with a sad smile shaking his head. “Why not? You said I was doing well. I can get used to being an outdoors borrower. Or, or just a traveling one or whatever. Please?”

“It’s too dangerous. Maybe when you’ve improved more. I don’t want you taking risks you don’t have to. I was told the same thing by the person who taught me everything,” Mikhail explained, he knew he couldn’t just abandon him. “I can try to come back though. I help keep some others connected, but I’ll come back, I promise.”

Ian grabbed him tight into a hug, the promise barely keeping him together. Mikhail knew it was a dumb idea, but he couldn’t do it. He’d promised himself not to get involved with borrowers again after the last time, but he never expected to find a kid who had no one. Once Ian could take care of himself he’d tell him the truth and then deal with the consequences. For now he’d help him stay safe. Ian fell asleep holding Mikhail in a tight hug. He knew he shouldn’t stay like this, but it was nice to be with someone else. After a few hours he knew he had to leave. It was Monday so he had to be a human again and go to work.

He slipped out of Ian’s grasp, careful not to wake him. Quietly he grabbed the hook that they’d fashioned out of some threads and a paper clip, leaving Ian the one that he’d brought. He snuck through the walls until reaching an entrance that he’d leave open just enough to come in through again. Once out of the walls he focused on shifting back to his human size, the world slowly matching him again. He quickly made his way to the front door, keeping an eye out for anyone awake right now. He snuck in quietly, trying to avoid being loud enough to wake Ian up. He collapsed on his bed, turning his phone on with an alarm set for the class that started in a few hours.

[nanagoswife]

For You? Always.

Chapter Nineteen

Summary: The two of you see each other for the first time since that tough night, then some more happens both in, and outside the office.

W/C: 4.2k (some things go down okay?)

Warnings: angst, physical and emotional harassment, physical violence, serious injury, mentions of blood, mention of past trauma, basically, it faces some difficult topics, oh and swearing and slight dehumanization?

-A/N at the bottom-

It was another week before you went back to work. You knew that rumours were being spread. It was apparent by the sad and pitying stares you got as you walked to your office. This is not even mentioning how some turned to whisper to someone close.

What these rumours were, you didn’t know. There was a part of you that didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to know how they twisted the tale of your personal life.

What you did know that Ben had apparently not gone back to finish the trial. Siara had replaced him. Also, he was at the office.

Thankfully, Paisley didn’t bring anything up. She acted as if this was a normal work day and that there were no other outside influences. You were grateful as all you wanted to do was get back to work and forget about everything that had recently been bringing you down.

She especially helped you forget about the fact that Sadie’s funeral just happened over the weekend.

Her parents had taken you in for those days. Their hugs comforted you along with your own parents as they were also close with Sadie and her parents. Together you all remembered her life.

When you saw your parents, you were also glad they didn’t ask why Ben wasn’t there. They probably assumed he was still tied up with work.

The only thing that seemed to be keeping you from breaking was the dogs. Sure, it hurt when you thought about the reason you had them, but they still helped you feel better. There was no way you couldn’t laugh at their silly antics.

What you couldn’t help but wonder was if Ben would come and try to take one of them. He wouldn’t though. He couldn’t choose then, he wouldn’t choose now. Besides, he didn’t even pester you about his own belongings and he would never do that to anybody. He would never do that to you.

“Y/N?” A voice said, breaking your thoughts and made you slightly jump. Looking up, you saw Derek. Trying your best to be genuine, you smiled.

“Hi, Derek. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” He paused. There was a glint of worry in his eyes. “Y/N, go home. There’s no reason that you need to be here. Take some more time.” Derek’s voice had the genuineness you failed to have, and was also tinted with worry.

“Paisley said something, didn’t she?”

Knowing the joke, he huffed in laughter. “Actually, it was someone else that expressed their concern for you.”

Now you were confused. Who else would be concerned? Siara would if she knew you were back at work. In the end, you shrugged it off. “Derek, I can stay. I need something to keep me busy.”

Derek only nodded as he knew he wouldn’t win even before he even started. Like how it usually was.

“Alright. If you need to, just go home. No need to worry about it.”

“Okay. Thank you,” you said with a genuine smile before he left you to work.

After that, some more time went by before another knock sounded at your door.

-

Ben tried his best to stay away. Not only for your sake, but for his own as well. If he were being honest, he was just staying away from everyone.

Ever since this all happened, rumours have spread like a wildfire. All of them painted him as a cheater, a liar, a breaker of trust. If the rumours didn’t hurt, everything else sure did.

Nearly everyone in the office became hostile towards him. Each area guaranteed some sort of dirty look or harsh words. With each passing day, it brought on new harsh looks, new insults, new threats. Eventually, some bumps and shoves had started.

As a result, it was almost as if he regressed back to his days in highschool. Always cowering away from everyone with the fear that someone would actually throw a punch. With every insult, he’d flinch. It was a fear that was never felt since before he moved to the same school as you. Sure, he still faced some criticism, but it wasn’t sending him to the hospital.

This time, he was in the same school with you, but you weren’t there to help him. To save him from the threats of the other students. Not physically, not mentally, and not with your smile.

Yes, he tried to stay away so he wouldn’t cause you more pain. He refused to let himself try and gain back your protection. He didn’t want you to have the burden of knowing how hostile it’s gotten.

It had worked until duty called that he couldn’t hand off to someone else. He had to oversee this one himself. Thankfully, it wouldn’t take long at all. A signature. This would cause you less pain than it would if it were more collaborative.

For a moment, he hated how he contemplated handing it to Paisley so that she could give it to you. No, he thought, he needed to face this. Plus, it was just work. That should warrant a safe pass, right?

Even though he hadn’t seen you since that night, he still knew that you were probably having troubles. Siara had also told him how the funeral had just happened.

He asked Derek if he could check in on you. If you found out he was the one who asked, you’d probably think he was trying to get you to leave for his sake. Which was not the reason. He didn’t want you to see the hostility towards him, but he wanted you to feel comfortable. He knew you well enough that you were probably not doing as well as you said you were.

Now, here he was at your door. For a moment, he stood there with racing thoughts. He was frozen at the thought of seeing you. It had been a while.

Paisley broke him out of it when she placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. She can separate work from personal life,” she said quietly.

“I know. It’s if I can separate the two that’s the problem.”

Ben was thankful that people like Paisley and Siara knew the truth. At least they showed him some kindness in this place.

Finally, with a deep breath, he knocked. There was no going back now.

-

You would’ve been surprised to see Ben at your door if your job didn’t require your constant partnership.

Meeting his eyes, he seemed nervous. Not like the first time he came to your office with Siara. It sent a small jolt of guilt through you that he was like this.

“All that’s needed is a signature,” he said quietly.

Your heart hurt. It was like highschool again. You, the popular girl that was liked by most, and him, the quiet boy who hardly talked and waited for danger around every corner. For the first time since then, as well, his shoulders were shrugged up and he looked so scared and tense.

Nodding, he then hesitantly stepped forward to bring the paper over. Wanting to spare him of his discomfort, you quickly signed it.

The pain in your heart only grew when he paused before he quickly walked out of your office and closed the door. This was the first time he had ever come to your office and didn’t stay and talk.

That’s when the first prominent flicker of doubt started to fill your mind.

-

It was another few weeks before you heard what the rumours really were. Not only that, but how Ben was being treated by so many. It made you sick hearing what was going on. Now you knew why he was so tense when he came into your office.

It pained you to think that he felt like he would receive the same treatment from you. Usually, he relaxed once he saw you.

Siara was the one who told you this when she had come back. Apparently, he had been confiding in both Brian and Siara with everything. No wonder why he had been basically hiding in his office all these weeks.

Sitting on the couch with Cody and Boga curled up close to you on the couch and floor, you started to think. You let every feeling of doubt swirl your mind.

Looking back, you noticed everything he had done for you. Everything that he left up to you, never asking for anything in return. Nothing except asking for your love.

The times he spent in your office just so he could talk with you. The times he gave you his coat when you got cold. The times that he made your bad situations good ones. The times that he would greet your parents with such kindness. The times he only simply asked for you to say that you loved him. How he showed you how things weren’t always your fault. How he left every big step up to you.

Then, you looked back to those days that your first feeling of doubt about his love came in. He was always disappointed when told he had to leave. The glints in his eyes, you now realize, was sad and not telling of something traitorous to your relationship. The amount of times he would just send a simple heart emoji during the day. Then, his hair was almost always disheveled as you knew he spent countless nights without a second of sleep. How, even after you got mad, he came to you. Just like he had so many times.

Sure, Carla sleeping in his bed was still a kick in the gut, but you knew how he was. He was so kind. So generous and he was just extending that kindness to a coworker. Someone that he only saw as a friend. Someone he ignored because he only wanted to see your face every night.

Had he been desperate, he would’ve just come home to you. Even then, you told him to stay. That was something he listened to. He listened because he would never think of going against what you say.

Ben would’ve come to you, had you not insisted that he stay. Insist that he stayed so that it would be done sooner.

Then, in the aftermath of days of very few exchanged words, you never even gave him a chance to speak, to explain. Instead, you took advantage of his unwavering kindness and eagerness to just listen to you and didn’t grant him the same.

“Oh, Obi-Wan,” you muttered to yourself. Tears started to build up thinking of how selfish and cruel you had been to this kind man. To the man that loves you. To the man that you love.

Had it not been so late, you would’ve gone to see him and try and make things right. This was not something to settle over a phone. Instead, you would go to the park and think things over some more with the benefit of fresh air. Think over how you should never have pushed him away. Especially when you were grieving and you didn’t even tell him.

Walking through the night, he didn’t have any determined path of travel. All he knew was that he needed to just walk in the frigid night air. He needed to wonder as he tried to alleviate some of the suffering he’s been going through.

It wasn’t tapering off after this month. If anything, it got worse.

Now, he was in an alley by the office. It was quiet and comforting. A perfect area that allowed him to think about you. It allowed him a more private space to let his tears quietly fall. A safe space to think of everything he could’ve done differently that would’ve prevented this.

The sound of his steps along with the slight dragging of his feet was the only sound. Occasionally, it would be accompanied by sniffles that accompanied his tears. That is, until he heard many more.

At first, he didn’t acknowledge them. He just assumed it was a group passing by to go do whatever activity awaited them. Instead, they stopped and the talking he had heard that accompanied them stopped.

Looking up, he saw three guys from the office. They made eye-contact with him and gave menacing glances. Then, they started walking his way. All of them walked with a fury that he hadn’t been on the other of in so long.

“You fucker. You’ll pay, Kenobi,” one snarled before drawing his fist up. Ben couldn’t react fast enough to try and dodge it.

“There’s no one here to help you, you fucking cheater!” another yelled as he threw his own punch.

The second punch sent more pain through him as it landed in the same place as the first. They only chuckled as they watched him stumble into the brick wall of one of the buildings.

“Big shot Ben Kenobi is nothing but a defenseless wimp,” one said before a punch connected to the opposite side of his face. This one almost made him fall, but one of the three caught him and stood him back up.

This turned out to be for the benefit for the to start to land brutal blows to his ribs and abdomen. They didn’t stop until he was choking on air.

That’s when they finally let him fall to the ground, watching him struggle for air.

After a few moments, he finally gasped on air. His coughs were painful and the air stung his lungs as each breath was taken in. For a minute, they let him breathe normally, laughing at the way he was curled on the ground. It didn’t last long.

Pain shot through him, his breath was once again knocked from his lungs.

The worst part about this is that he wasn’t trying to fight back or even protect himself. He just let them kick and beat him to their heart’s content.

In a way, he even let the first punch happen. He saw it. He easily could’ve dodged it, but he didn’t. There wasn’t even any shock factor that these people would do this. Ben had known too many two-faced people to be surprised.

He deserved this. There was no fighting back. This, he thought, was what he deserved. Even though he didn’t do what they thought he did, he caused you pain. He had caused you unbearable amounts of hurt that then left you alone when you needed someone the most.

So, right now, he had a reason to let this happen. This is what he deserved and it was given to him.

When he was young, he tried to fight against it. There was no reason he should’ve been hit. He didn’t deserve it. Now, he had that reason. It was his fault.

So, he practically welcomed each punch, each kick, every little thing feeling of pain. He welcomed every bit of it even when he was blinded by his own blood and one eye had swollen shut. Then, everything went black from some sort of contact to the back of his head. The last feeling of pain before he blacked out.

-

“Y/N!” you heard Siara yell from outside your office door. She burst in not long after.

“Is everything alright?” you asked.

“Have you seen Ben? He never came back to the house last night.” Her voice was filled with worry that was mirrored across her face.

Your own worry filled you. He wasn’t one to not come back without saying anything.

“No, I-”

Paisley burst in then. For a moment she paused, gauging what she was interrupting before saying, “You’re going to want to see this.”

She quickly made her way to your computer and started to type something in. A news article popped up with a video.

“No,” you said quietly. The name in the article appeared for a moment before Paisley clicked and played the video that was security camera footage.

You recognized the three men from the office. What pained you more was that they were attacking Ben. Something that made it worse, he was just taking it. He didn’t bring a hand up to block anything. Especially once he fell to the ground, he just let them beat him to a pulp. There was no resistance. You couldn’t watch it for long after he fell. You were surprised you hadn’t looked away sooner.

For a few moments, you didn’t know why he wouldn’t try to at least defend himself. Then you knew, and you felt horrible.

“Why did he not do anything?” Siara eventually asked Paisley.

“Because he thinks he deserved it,” you said quietly with your back turned to the other two. “He thinks it’s his fault.”

Tears were brimming your eyes. You didn’t want to turn around and see the other girls’ faces. It wouldn’t help.

“Siara,” your voice was close to failing you, “can you please take me to the hospital?”

Now, you turned. Siara nodded and quickly led you out. Fear filled you at just how injured he could be. You just needed to know that he was okay.

-

“He’s in very rough shape. Multiple fractured ribs, broken wrist, black eye, some minor cuts on his scalp with a few more serious ones on his face, and a concussion. Right now, he is sleeping and may be out for a few days so his body can heal,” the doctor said as she brought you to Ben.

When you arrived at his room, your tears started to fall when you saw him. The bandages, heart monitor, IV, the cast, the swollen black eye, it all made you feel sick to your stomach. This all happened because of you. Because he loves you, and you love him. Because you pushed him away and people were ill-informed and acted on rumours.

“Nurses will come in a few times a day to check on him and clean his eye. Other than that, it will just be the two of you,” the doctor said. “When he wakes up, let us know as soon as you can.” She knew that you would need a moment when he awoke. She had made it apparent in the way she didn’t say to tell them right away.

“I will. Thank you,” you said quietly.

With that, she left you. You waisted almost no time as you were by his side, holding his uninjured hand. Letting your tears fall, you pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

“I’m so sorry, Obi,” you said against his knuckles and pressed another kiss to his hand.

-

Two days had gone by. The day before, his mother came to visit him. Thankfully, she didn’t know what happened between the two of you. Either that, or she wasn’t mad. Amelia was always the gentle and unjudging sort.

Now, you once again sat with his good hand pressed to your forehead in your hands. The doctor had said he was making good progress. To you, you wouldn’t believe it until he opened his eyes. Well, possibly still the one. The swelling may have gone down, but they couldn’t tell how much.

Those two days had been the longest ones you’ve ever had. Always just waiting to see the amazingly blue eyes meet yours once again. It was all you wished for as you constantly whispered so many apologies as he slept.

You would quietly apologize to him and tell him how much you loved him until his cerulean blues looked at you again. Hopefully, without fear or pain.

Until then, you held his hand and relished in the small contact.

This was how you stayed for two very long and painful days of listening to the almost silence of the hospital room.

You had begun to doze before you heard a difference in his breath. Then, his hand started to move. At first, your heart was starting to feel pain as he moved as if he was going to pull away, but he stopped. Instead, he tightened his hand around yours which sent a wave of relief through your entire body. It released every bit of tension and stress that you’ve been carrying for so long.

Then, his eyes slowly opened. Both of them, but his black eye was still partially closed. The eyes you had missed so much met yours. For the first time in months, there wasn’t any type of hurt in his eyes. No loneliness, no heartbreak.

“Y/N,” he said in a hoarse voice.

“Hi,” you said softly, tears of happiness gathering in your eyes as a smile grew on your face.

He moved his hand from yours and placed it on your cheek. His thumb wiped away the tear that fell.

“Obi, I’m so sorry,” you said while leaning into his hand and placing your hand over his to feel more of his gentle touch.

“Shh, it’s not your fault.”

“Did you ever think that it wasn’t your fault, either?” you said back. One thing that you were now returning, making it known that not everything was his fault either.

He smirked and his eyes grew softer.

“No,” he slightly chuckled but winced in pain, “no I didn’t think about that.”

“Well, let me show you how it wasn’t your fault.” Carefully, you leaned towards him all while making sure you didn’t cause him any pain. “If you’ll let me.”

Ben kept his hand on your cheek the entire way. All the way until he nodded and your lips met his. Then, he moved his hand to your hair.

You kissed him with every bit of love you had and have for him. Every unheard apology laced into the simple action.

He returned it with the same intensity. It was only broken when he winced.

“I-I’m sorry, did I-”

“It wasn’t you, darling,” he replied comfortingly.

You could tell he was desperately holding back a chuckle. Still, you let out a sigh of relief as you rested your head to his after making sure it wouldn’t hurt him.

For a moment, you relished the feeling of his skin against yours once again. Then, everything came rushing back. He may say it wasn’t your fault, but it was. This wouldn’t have happened if you had just let him say something.

“Obi, I really am sorry. I never even let you explain anything. Then I pushed you away because of actions that weren’t your own and I had no real evidence of.”

Then, you let everything else come out. Voicing everything that you realized he had done for you. What he always did for you. Every moment that he always put you over himself and how you interpreted every action of his wrong.

Like he always did and always will, he listened to everything you had to say. Somehow memorising every word you say like you’re the only movie he watches. The whole time, he didn’t interrupt a single moment of the scene. All he did was watch your eyes, hold your hand in his, and listen.

“And because I pushed you away, you’re now here. I’m the reason that it’s like highschool all over again.” Tears were once again building up. His black eye only punctuated what you said as you saw the glimmer of his blue through the slight swell.

Once again, he lifted his hand to your cheek, “Darling, I’m not here because of you. They didn’t have to act like that based on a rumour. It was their decision. Not yours.”

“Then why did you not fight back? It wasn’t your fault they did that.” Your voice was starting to take on a desperate plea for him to see how it wasn’t because of him either.

For a moment, you watched as he considered this. While he did, he took his eyes off of you for the first time since he had opened them.

“I felt like I deserved it,” he said gravely. “Not necessarily because I felt that it was my fault, but because of the way I made you feel. How I brought up something from the past that I strived not to conjure up,” he replied finally.

Putting your hand over his on your cheek, you shook your head. “No,” you said. “No you deserve to not have to be afraid of everyone you pass. You never should have. And, definitely, not anymore. Those feelings should never have been conjured back up. Especially not because of me.”

Ben gently pulled you towards him so that he could kiss you. “It wasn’t your fault, darling. Other than that, I will believe anything you tell me.”

Before anything more happened, you were disrupted by someone clearing their throat.

It was the doctor, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to check on him.”

You nodded, but you saw that Ben was hesitant. Leaning back towards him, you whispered, “It’s okay. There’s no need to hide anything.”

This was something that was a result of his many trips to the hospital. The doctors hadn’t been good to him and treated him improperly because one was the parent of the kid that led the beatings and bullying. This happened until his mom found out. So, since then, he had been pretty distrusting of doctors treating him.

With your words of encouragement, he nodded and you pulled away after pressing a kiss to the birthmark under his right eye.

A/N: So, this was another tough one. Although I've never actually been physically assaulted, I have faced some similar circumstances and felt like I deserved everything bad that happened. So, it kinda hit close to home but at the same time it just broke me to put these characters through this again. So, I immediately felt huge relief from the hospital scene 😅 Anyways, as always, I hope you enjoyed and just a reminder that if you would like to be apart of the taglist, message me, comment, send an ask, whatever you feel most comfortable. Also, if you want to talk, I'm always happy to hear from anyone so feel free.

Anyways, that's my little rant. Hope you all enjoy this as much as I do.

@stardancerluv @jaydenwoo @madmax2003 @where-fantasy-meets-reality @hopeladybug @wintersoldiersthings

[actuallybarb]

The Aftermath ~ Part 7

Summary: y/n goes to therapy, is a confirmed hoodie stealer, and gets a pep talk from sam wilson and wanda maximoff

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, trauma, me attempting to write a therapy session 

Word Count: 3850

A/N: so many things. 1) i’ve never been to therapy (even tho i desperately need it) so i’m solely basing that off of Freaky Friday with Lindsay Lohan. 2) i live for sleepy tropes and i hella indulged. 3) sorry not sorry

                                                         //////////

“Your projects are due next Monday. Have one partner email me who your group is working with, and no, Mr. Thompson, you can’t work with students from other periods. Class dismissed.”

“Want to work together?”

We had been going to class together for a month now, but it always seemed like Peter was surprised whenever he saw me sitting next to him. Maybe it wasn’t surprise...

“Yeah. When do you want to work on it?” I shoved my notes into my already disorderly backpack and slung it over my shoulders. It was starting to get colder in New York, but I was still wearing t-shirts and shorts (mostly because I could keep myself warm and also because I’m stubborn as hell).

“Thursday? Or do you want to start sooner than that?”

“No, I can do Thursday. Are you going to the compound this weekend?” It wasn’t more than a whisper, but I still checked who was around before asking. You can never be too careful.

“Yeah, May’s driving me up after school on Friday. Want a ride?”

I smiled. “That’d be nice.” People were slowly making their way out of the building to head home for the day, but I was heading to Manhattan.

“You going home?”

“No, I’m seeing my shrink. I’ll see you tomorrow, Peter.”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” He turned right, I turned left, and I might have turned around and glanced back at him over my shoulder, just for a second.

But so did he.

/////////

Taylor’s office had a billion plants and as many windows in it. She always had a candle burning that smelled like clean laundry, and she liked to talk first whenever we met up. That’s why I liked her so much.

“Remember my crazy neighbor’s dog?” She was watering one of her plants when I walked in. “Guess who I accidentally ran over?”

“You ran over a dog?” I left my backpack by the door and grabbed my own watering can.

“No, not the dog. I ran over my neighbor while he was chasing after the dog.”

I laughed. “Like that’s much better.”

“Running over a dog is unforgivable, Y/N. A person is understandable.” We finished watering the plants then sat down at the huge floor-to-ceiling window that took up her back wall. Another reason I liked Taylor: I actually do stuff while I’m talking with her. It’s not like I’m sitting on a couch staring at her while I talk about my feelings, we’re on equal ground. The last couple visits I’ve worked on painting New York, but I haven’t made much progress because I’m a shit painter. “That’s not the point,” Taylor would say, “it’s all about going with it. Be a shit painter. Own it.” Yeah, we get along great.

“No more panic attacks since the first day.”

“Yeah? That’s great.” Unlike me, Taylor is a phenomenal painter. Her skyline had identifiable buildings. Mine had — I think one looks more like a tree than a building. (That’s one huge tree.) “Any nightmares?”

Oh. We’re going there today. “Just on bad days.”

“How often are the bad days?”

After the Blip and before Europe, my bad days went from every day to maybe once a week. Then Europe fucked me over. Now? I don’t know. “Whenever they feel like it.”

“C’mon, Y/N, you can do better than that.”

I rolled my eyes and groaned. “It’s not like it’s a cycle, like the moon or a period or our meetings. It’s sporadic, Taylor, and fucking exhausting.”

“Why? Why are the bad days so exhausting?”

I may or may not have angrily made a bird smash against a window in my painting. “Because I’m the only one who knows. Mom guesses, most of the time, but it’s like she’s still dancing around me. Dad sees it when he’s home, but he doesn’t know what to do. And—“ I almost said ‘and Peter.’ That would’ve been awkward. “And my friends make it better, but they’ve got their own shit to deal with, and I don’t want to dump any of my problems on them. And I know you’re going to say ‘Internalizing your pain is bad, Y/N,’ but it’s the only solution I can handle right now until I muster up the courage to actually talk to my mom again. I mean, last time I needed Jess by my side, how the hell am I going to handle it without her?”

“For starters, I’m proud of you for acknowledging the way to address the problem. And secondly, you don’t have to do it by yourself. I’ve actually been wanting to have another session with your parents, and now seems like as good of a time as any. Bring them around for your next session, and we’ll talk to them, together, about how you can get through bad days with their help. Okay?”

My lips quirked up, just a smidge. “Okay.”

“Now let’s talk about King T’Challa’s new suit, you can’t pretend you don’t have an opinion on it...”

///////

It was a bad day.

Which sucked, because it was also Thursday, and Peter was supposed to be over in half an hour to work on our project. And I was a mess.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Mom called from the living room. Her elementary school got out twenty minutes before Midtown, so she usually beat me home. “How was school?”

“It’s a bad day,” was all I said before I closed the door to my room. I didn’t slam it (not anymore) but I didn’t know anything else. I couldn’t tell if I wanted a nap, I couldn’t tell if I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, I couldn’t tell if I wanted to fly from rooftop to rooftop until I was too exhausted to come home; I didn’t know. Which sucked, because I’m the only one who could’ve told me the answer.

The was a light knock on my door. “Can I come in?” I didn’t respond, so Mom walked in. “Mind me asking why today was bad?” I still didn’t say anything, my face buried in my pillow. She sat at the edge of my bed, near my knees. “I can usually tell, you know.” It was a hushed voice that came out of her mouth - nothing like the loud and loving woman I’ve known almost my whole life. “You do a good job of trying to cover it up, but I can tell. Your shoulders are tenser than usual, and your eyebrows are crinkled together the second you step out of your room.” She sighed and put a hand on my back - her hands are always warm and usually smell like hand sanitizer from Bath and Body Works because she refuses to use the government-issued ones at school. “You dad and I have no idea what you went through while we were gone. We have no idea what you went through in Europe. But we’re here for you now, Y/N. You carry this weight around with you, and I just — I want you to know that you have people to share it with. Maybe not the weight itself, but the pain it’s causing you.” She removed her hand and set both of them in her lap. “I don’t know how to make the bad days better, so I need you to tell me when you’re ready. I’m here for you, baby.” She leaned down and kissed my head, then stood up and started walking toward the door.

When her hand was on the knob, I finally spoke up. “Thank you.” It was barely a grumble, but she heard it.

The door closed quietly, and I finally decided what I wanted to do.

Cry. I cried. For at least twenty minutes. I cried because of my abilities, I cried because I lost Jess as a mom, I cried because I went to Europe, I cried because Quentin Beck was an asshole that fucked up my mental state for probably the rest of my life, I cried because I killed a lot of people, I cried because now I was friends with Peter but at what cost?

He showed up, eventually. I heard him knock on the front door as I blew my nose. Mom, bless her soul, kept him distracted until I came out of my room myself. It took me another twenty minutes to finally convince myself to leave my room, and at that point I was too exhausted to keep myself warm anymore, so the cold breeze blowing through New York hit me in full force. I slipped a hoodie on, grabbed my backpack, and took a deep breath before opening the door.

Peter was sitting at the counter while Mom washed the dishes from breakfast this morning. She was back to talking loud, and he was listening with a smile on his face. My door closed and his eyes immediately darted to me. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, Pete. Is it okay if we’re in the living room?”

Mom glanced between the two of us and tried to hide her little smile, but at least one of us caught it. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be in the office if you need anything.”

He must’ve noticed my bloodshot eyes; he couldn’t stop staring. “Is that my hoodie?”

Shit. Is it? I glanced down at the Midtown Tech logo and remembered getting drenched at the compound after the sprinklers unexpectedly came on. Then Peter gave me his hoodie. “Shit, yeah, it is.” I pulled on the sleeves to take it off, but he shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it, I have at least two more at home.” He pulled out his laptop and it was suddenly back to business. “Any ideas how we’re going to do this?”

We bounced ideas off of each other until we came to a rough draft, but it was getting later, and bad days always get worse at night.

“Shit, is it ten already?” Peter started gathering his things and stuffing them in his bag. “I told May I’d be home by ten, I hate being late.”

I pulled out my phone and sent May a quick text; we’ve had each other’s numbers since my first weekend at the compound. We lost track of time, he’s heading home now.

I figured. See you tomorrow :)

Peter stood up and started walking toward the door, and I followed him. I had spoken maybe twenty sentences the whole time (it’s a miracle we got this far in the project) but I couldn’t convince myself to say anything else before he left. And I wanted to. But I also wanted to cave in on myself — and we both know which option was winning that battle.

“Do you need a hug?” He basically had one foot out the door, but he turned around and asked me this.

“What?”

“Your heartbeat — it’s been off all day. And it still is right now, and — Do you need a hug?”

God, he was perfect. And I was so gone.

All I needed all day was a goddamn hug, and now he’s offering one, and tears started brimming in my eyes before I could even nod yes. He was so warm, and his voice flitted around in his chest, and I would’ve felt bad about getting tears on his shirt, except I didn’t care anymore. All I cared about was how the weight on my shoulders lifted when Peter Parker’s arms were wrapped around them.

“Are you going to be okay?” he mumbled in my hair. I only nodded again. “Okay.” He slowly loosened his grip, but not before he left a quick kiss on my head. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Another nod. “See you tomorrow.”

///////

Peter was going crazy. Since we hadn’t found any footage that could clear Spider-Man’s name without incriminating Peter he wasn’t allowed out as his alter-ego. And he was literally climbing the walls of the compound.

I was blowing gusts of air at him, trying to knock him down from the ceiling. We had officially finished our project only twenty minutes before, so I pulled up the EDITH footage from London, trying to think of how to clear Spider-Man’s name.

And then it hit me.

“Oh my god.” I ran to the computer and started typing away furiously. “I think I figured it out.”

He came back to the ground. “Figured what out?”

“We can just use the audio file from the video. Then your face doesn’t have to be in it at all.”

I found the file and played it over the speakers.

“EDITH! Turn off the drones.”

“Should I execute all cancellation protocols?”

“Yes, execute them all.”

It was perfect. Exactly what we needed.

“Peter.” I turned to him with a huge smile on my face. “This can save Spider-Man.”

“This can save Spider-Man,” he repeated. “Shit, Y/N, you just saved Spider-Man.” He wrapped his arms around me tightly and lifted me in the air, his laugh ringing in my ear. “I can still be Spider-Man!”

I laughed along with him. He set me down after a minute, but we were still standing unbelievably close together. One minuscule step forward and my lips would be on his. His heart beat jumped, and so did mine, but he didn’t pull away. Neither of us pulled away.

His tilted his head and kissed my cheek (which I still freaked out over) and then took a step back.

“We have to call Pepper and tell her.”

“Yeah, yeah.” FRIDAY started the call and Pepper was over the moon.

“We’ll get a press conference set up for tomorrow, and I’ll work on a statement. Peter,” this was the sternest I had ever heard her - even more serious than when she was talking to Morgan, “I know this is all good news, but you have to wait to be Spider-Man still. All of this press has to die down first before you can go out in the open again, okay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Potts.”

“Okay. I’ll see you two bright and early tomorrow.”

She hung up and Peter hugged me again. This one was way more subdued than the last one. “Thank you, Y/N,” he mumbled into my neck.

“You’re welcome, Pete.”

//////////

The press conference went well, according to Rhodey. “I think most of them were relieved to know Spider-Man’s not actually a murderer.” Everyone was dying to have Spider-Man come out and answer questions, but Pepper insisted no questions were being taken at that time, or ever.

MJ called Peter after the press conference was released to the public, and they talked for what felt like forever. The second he got the call I went to the training room: to distract myself or actually train, well, it doesn’t matter because both were done.

A simulation droid was about to “kill” me, but red magic tore it apart at the last second.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Are you okay?”

I shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because Peter’s been talking on the phone for the same time you’ve been in here.” Wanda gave me a knowing look. You forget that she can read minds because she’s not invasive about it, but she’s always there, holding the information to either back you up or tear you down.

I sighed. “He’s talking to MJ. And I know there’s a high possibility that they’ll get back together but a part of me is hoping they won’t.”

“So you can be with him instead.” I gave a small nod. “Don’t give up yet, Y/N. I see the way he looks at you. You might have more of a chance than you think.”

“She’s right, kid.”

I jumped in surprise. “How long have you been listening?”

Sam smiled from the observation deck of the training room. “Long enough. Boys are stupid, they need all the help they can get.”

“I’ve given him plenty of help already. Literally.”

“Haha, very funny.” He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. If it doesn’t work out with MJ, shoot your shot. I have a feeling you won’t be disappointed.” He winked before leaving, and Wanda followed suit.

I rolled my eyes before telling FRIDAY to pick another random simulation. “Make it a good one.” And, boy, did she. It was the hardest one yet, and all of my concentration was going into it. I was so focused I didn’t even notice Peter walk in until after I had won.

“Damn.”

I turned quickly to see him standing near the door, his hands in his pockets. “Hey. How’d it go?”

“It was okay. She saw the news.”

“But…”

“But it’s not happening. I-“ he looked down at the ground, “I can’t trust her. Not when she lost trust in me. And I- I think I’m interested in someone else.”

I nodded along. I tried to keep my heart as normal as possible but it was beating too hard from my adrenaline to be controllable; I’m almost positive Peter heard it jump at the news. “That’s understandable. Who’s the, uh, the someone else?” God, please be me.

Peter’s lips twitched up to a small smile. “You’ll find out eventually.” He stepped further into the room and relaxed a bit. “Want to do a round together?”

I wanted to. I really wanted to. But I was exhausted, and I think I pulled a muscle, and I could already feel bruises forming where I ungracefully fell on my side. So I just shook my head. “Some other time.”

My room had a bathroom attached to it, and that’s where I spent the next half hour, standing under the blazing hot water coming from the shower. Once I convinced myself to actually get out and change into pajamas, I grabbed my laptop and climbed into bed. I was going home tomorrow, I deserved a few hours of shuteye.

Then someone knocked on my door and ruined the whole ambiance.

“Oh, you’re - I was just - I’ll just go.”

“No, Peter, what’s up?”

He was standing there, hair damp from the shower, black t-shirt and flannel pajama pants on, looking hot as ever. “I was going to ask if you wanted to watch a movie, but you’re already in bed, so never mind.” He turned to walk away, and I almost let him because I was on-my-ass exhausted, but I didn’t. I couldn’t, not when he looked like that (soft, but also hot as fuck).

“Come on.” He turned, and I opened the door wider. “I was about to watch Gilmore Girls, but we can watch a movie if you want.” I pulled back the covers and left plenty of room for Peter to sit beside me.

“We can watch Gilmore Girls, I don’t mind.”

The second I pressed ‘play’ on the third episode was the second my eyes could barely stay open any longer. I tried so hard to watch Jess win Rory back, but sleep caught up with me and I let it win. I used Peter’s shoulder as a pillow and decided sleep was a battle I didn’t mind losing.

////////

I woke up to my alarm, but as quickly as my eyes opened, Peter’s arm pulled me closer to him. I was too tired to feel embarrassed or excited about the fact that Peter Parker was in my bed with an arm wrapped around me. All I wanted to was to turn off my alarm and go back to bed, but my dad was picking me and Peter up in two hours and I wanted to bully Sam into making me pancakes again.

“Let go, Peter,” I ended up mumbling, “I have to turn the alarm off.” He moved his arm off and I sat up and grabbed my phone. “I’m getting breakfast.”

It must’ve been my lucky day, because Sam and Bucky were in the kitchen. “‘Morning, sunshine. Sleep okay?” I looked at Sam with a hard glare, and he laughed. Of course he knew Peter was with me, FRIDAY knows everything.

I sat next to Bucky and thought of fluffy pancakes to ward off my burning hatred for Captain America. “Sam, how much do you love me?”

“Depends on what you’re willing to give me in exchange for the pancakes.”

Of course he already knew my move. Typical.

“I’ll delete half of the embarrassing footage of you saved in FRIDAY’s hard-drive.”

Sam looked at Bucky suddenly, extremely confused. “I thought that was done months ago.”

He just shrugged and drank his coffee. “Must not’ve gone deep enough. Good thing Y/N is here to catch it.”

Sam glanced between the two of us and sighed. “Okay, fine, I’ll make you some stupid pancakes.”

I smiled, then Bucky slipped me ten dollars under the counter and whispered, “Save me the footage.” I winked back.

“Can I have some too?” Peter, soft as hell, came into the kitchen and sat beside me. (His knee was brushing up against mine.)

“Only if you have something to offer.” Sam liked us, I know he did (that’s part of the embarrassing footage FRIDAY has saved) but he was usually a dick to us - anyone who wasn’t Bucky (and even then) - in the morning. It was always playful banter, but we knew not to step too far before eleven o’clock.

“I promise not to test out my new long-lasting webs on anything you own.”

“Deal.”

The pancakes were delicious (“hell yeah they were, I don’t mess around with pancakes”) but my dad was at the compound before we knew it, and it was time to face reality again.

“I saw the press conference,” Dad said when we sat down in the back, “and everything was very convincing. Congrats on getting to be Spider-Man again, Peter.”

He beamed. “Thanks, Mr. Y/L/N. Anything exciting happen at the hospital recently?”

They talked medical, while I sat back and listened to the engine. It covered up their hearts, but that didn’t matter, because both would’ve sent me right back to sleep. And it did.

We pulled up to Peter’s complex an hour and a half later. There were still plenty of daylight hours left, but we both left more homework to today than we would like to admit and neither of our parental figures would be pleased with that.

“See you tomorrow,” he said with a smile.

I smiled back, genuinely, (I was giving those out way more often now) and waved. “Bye.” Dad and I drove back and walked up to the apartment bumping shoulders. Our schedules didn’t line up very often because he was needed in the ER a lot of the time, but we always had a sort of silent understanding. He unlocked the door and let me in first, but when my eyes landed on the kitchen table, I stopped mid-step.

Blood. Everywhere. On the walls, on the floor, on Mom’s floral couch she claimed “added personality” to the living room. No one else was in the apartment, I could tell, but then it just raised more questions:

Who’s blood is everywhere?

Where the hell is Mom?

tags: @eridanuswave​ @vampirestrawberries​ 

[hale-13]

Trapezius

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 27 Prompt 27 - Injured

Peter gazed out over the harbor forlornly, twisting his mask into knots in his lap. Normally he would really enjoy the view – the sun was setting in a clear sky turning the normally disgusting water a soft orange and painting the area with a soft warmth. The peaceful view was marred by the emergency vehicles, Coastguard boats and police and news helicopters which made Peter’s gut clench with anxiety. He just… he tried so hard.

Words: 2123, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker, Helen Cho

TW: Injury, Poor Emotional intelligence

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Peter gazed out over the harbor forlornly, twisting his mask into knots in his lap. Normally he would really enjoy the view – the sun was setting in a clear sky turning the normally disgusting water a soft orange and painting the area with a soft warmth. The peaceful view was marred by the emergency vehicles, Coastguard boats and police and news helicopters which made Peter’s gut clench with anxiety. He just… he tried so hard.

The sound of repulsers approaching made Peter tense and he mentally put his walls back up. He couldn’t afford to let Mr. Stark see him as a kid right now. They were colleges when he was Spider-Man, peers. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it puff out through his clenched teeth.

“Previously on Peter screws the pooch I tell you to stay away from this instead you hack a multi-million dollar suit so you can sneak around behind my back doing the one thing I told you not to do,” Mr. Stark’s sarcastic voice said and Peter held back a flinch, keeping his expression blank as he cautiously looked back over his shoulder. His back was killing him and felt hot and swollen from his Hercules hold of the ferry earlier – he had definitely felt something tear – but he couldn’t afford the weakness right now.

“Is everyone okay?” He asked instead, keeping his voice monotone and trying not to tense his back.

“No thanks to you,” the Iron Man voice made Mr. Stark’s snide tone sound slightly metallic but, more than that, it made his blood boil and he whipped around to face the man.

“No thanks to me?” He took no precautions as he lifted his lefts over they side of the concrete tower and jumped down on the other side making his shoulders throb. “Those weapons were out there and I tried to tell you about it and you didn’t listen. None of this would have happened if you had just listened to me!” His voice broke and he could feel blood rushing to his face but he did his best to push down the embarrassment. “If you even cared you’d actually be here.” He threw in boldly.

It took him by surprise, therefore, when the armor opened in from of him and Tony Stark stepped out, a grim look of disappointment on his face that made Peter stumble back a could steps, unable to hide his wince of pain but playing it off as shock instead. “I did listen kid. Who do you think called the FBI huh?”

Peter dropped his gaze, unable to make further eye contact, only interrupting to correct his age and flinching again at Mr. Stark’s yelling. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, but he could tell the platitudes were only making his idol angrier so he said instead, with the most sincerity he could push into his tone “I just… I just wanted to be like you.”

“And I wanted you to be better,” Mr. Stark said back in a weary voice before asking for the suit back. Peter heart sank further but he got it. Mr. Stark was right – he didn’t deserve to be Spider-Man if all he did was hurt other people.

The car ride back to his apartment in Queens was silent and awkward, broken only by Mr. Stark and Happy leaving the car and throwing his a pair of hideous Hello Kitty pajama pants and an oversized New York tourist shirt. It took more effort than he would care to admit to slip the suit off of his painful muscles and lift his arms up high enough to pull the shirt on but he managed it.

Happy slipped back into the driver’s seat a moment later and raised the partition but Mr. Stark didn’t return as they pulled away from the curb and Peter’s heart sank further when he realized the man had probably taken the armor back to the Tower because he couldn’t bear to be in the car with Peter another minute. His eyes were burning but he refused to cry here – he’d already proven to be a problem and he wasn’t going to cry about his well deserved punishment.

The car stopped in front of his apartment and the locks on the doors popped but Happy didn’t roll down to partition to talk to him or offer any direction so, without a backward glance as his poorly folded suit, Peter slunk out of the car and upstairs.

May was not happy with him for skipping school and not answering his phone and, with the pain of his torn muscles ratcheting up and the emotional trauma of the day weighing down on him he collapsed onto the couch and tearfully confessed to his aunt that he had lost his internship, wanting to bring his arms up to return her tender hug but physically unable to do so. His only relief was that she directed him to take a shower pretty immediately because he smelled like garbage,.

And, yeah, he probably did.

The piss poor water pressure of their dingy shower was actually a blessing today but Peter could still barely stand with his back facing the hottest water possible hoping that the heat would relieve some of his pain but he was still just as painful when he forwent his sleep shirt a few minutes later.

He healed fast. This was fine – it would all be resolved in a few days.

———————————————

“Fuck,” Peter muttered, keeping his right arm tucked close to his stomach as he wrestled with the leukotape he had bought at the pharmacy. It kept sticking to itself and the wall and his hair and basically everywhere but where he was trying to stick it and Peter groaned, balling the piece up and throwing it away.

It had been a few months since dealing with the Vulture. A few months since turning down Mr. Stark’s offer to be an Avenger but accepting his offer to become his personal intern and Peter couldn’t be happier.

Well. Except for his shoulder that is.

His left arm had healed fully after straining his muscles holding the ferry together but his right had just gotten worse and worse and it was interfering with his ability to not only be Spider-Man but also to just perform everyday tasks. He hadn’t been able to lift much with that side or even put on a shirt normally in weeks and it was starting to grate on his nerves. After spending hours watching videos on YouTube Peter decided to try some strengthening exercises and taping.

Neither was working very well.

“Fuck,” he said again, with feeling, as he bent forward at the waist to rest his head on the cool counter top of his bathroom. He was supposed to get picked up by Happy in a few minutes to go and spend the weekend at the Tower with Tony to work on his suit and there was no way he could hide this anymore. He couldn’t even lift his arm up to chest level. His phone vibrated on the counter top and he moaned, answering it without looking at the caller ID. “Hey Happy.”

“Nope, guess again,” his mentor’s voice said and Peter jerked up, letting out a strangled grunt as he jostled his shoulder. “You okay kid?”

“Why are you calling me?” Peter said instead, deflecting.

“I’m picking you up,” Tony said. “Now are you okay?”

Peter waffled for a minute but one look at his duffle bag made him ache and he let out a sigh. “Not… really I guess.”

“What’s wrong?” His mentor’s voice was sharp and he could hear the sound of his seatbelt smacking the window of his car and the door opening and closing as Tony got out of the car.

“It’s not a big deal,” Peter said, going to the front door and unlocking and opening it just as Tony left the elevator, they made eye contact and hung up their phones.

“Well you look to be in one piece and there’s no blood everywhere,” Tony said as he joined Peter in the living room of his apartment and looked him over. “So what’s going on kiddo?”

Peter nibbled on his bottom lip and gripped his right hand into his shirt tightly for just a second before releasing it. “Remember the ferry?”

Mr. Stark was silent and attentive as he listened to Peter ramble and sighed deeply at the end of his story, reaching one hand up to massage his eyes. “You really don’t half-ass anything do you?”

“Do you actually want me to answer that?” Peter asked confused and his mentor rolled his eyes, grabbing Peter’s bag from where it was resting in the hallway.

“Come on then, you have a date with Dr. Cho and the MedBay.” Peter whined but didn’t overly protest when he was directed out of the apartment and down to where Mr. Stark had illegally parked in the fire lane in front of his building.

It was just some muscle straining right? A week or two of meds and resting it and everything would be okay.

“Well its not a strain,” Dr. Cho told him just over an hour later looking at the images of his radiographs and MRI on a holotable. “You’ve torn your rotator cuff and continually re-injured it to the point that its basically just a mass of scar tissue.”

“Oh…” Peter said, a little dazed from the small dose of painkillers he had been given so that they would be able to manipulate his arm for the images. “What does that mean?”

Helen gave him the same disapproving look she had been giving him since she had taken his history and had learned that he had been putting massive amounts of pressure and g-force on an injury that he had never allowed to fully heal. “It means Peter,” she said firmly shutting down the table, “that you’ll need surgery to repair the tear and clean out all the scar tissue. And you’ll need to give it time to heal and go to physical therapy if you plan to ever use your arm to its fullest extent ever again.”

Peter’s mind went a little blank at that. “Surgery?” He asked, a note of panic creeping into his voice. “But Spider-Man–,”

“Will be taking a break,” Tony told him. “Your health always comes first Peter.” He turned his attention back to Dr. Cho. “Can you tell his aunt all of this later? Also when can we do the surgery.”

“I’ve already got him scheduled for tomorrow morning with a specialist I’m bringing in from NYU,” she said. “And of course! Just let me know when she gets here.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Peter groused from his spot on the exam bed but both adults ignored him and he rolled his eyes. “What if I don’t want surgery?”

“Then you’ll be dealing with chronic pain, pion and needles, weakness and continuous tearing for the rest of your life and you’ll need a shoulder replacement in less than fifteen years at the rate your going,” Dr. Cho said, typing notes into his chart. “So I’ll see you in the morning for the surgery.”

Peter glared at her but, at the twinge in his arm when he adjusted in his seat, he grumbled “fine”.

“It won’t be that bad Underoos,” Tony said later as they sat on the ridiculously large couch in the penthouse living room watching Brooklyn 99 while May spoke with Peter’s medical team. “You get to skip school for the next week while you recover and I bribed Bob Igor to give me the next season of the Mandolorian early for us to binge.”

“But…” Peter gnawed at his lip, hating the taste of blood that filled his mouth as he broke open the tender skin again. “What if this doesn’t fix it?”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Tony said with a smile. “Cho is the forefront in development in regeneration. If anyone can fix you it’ll be her. And May and I will be there the whole time. You have nothing to worry about okay?”

“You’ll be there?” Peter said, fiddling with a loose thread on his shirt and refusing to look up at his mentor.

“Of course I’ll be there!” Tony said warmly with a squeeze to his good shoulder. “You’re my favorite intern.” He teased.

“Thanks Mr. Stark,” Peter said sincerely, reading the unsaid bit and relaxing a little back in the couch. Between his pain meds and his full stomach he could feel his eyelids drooping and he decided to relax more fully into Tony’s side – there was no where he felt safer.

[officialleehadan]

Yelp Rating

Hello darlings! I hope your week is going well. Right now I'm admiring a lovely sunset out my window and thinking how lovely this October has been so far.

Today's story was brought to you by Mae! Thank you for all your support, darling. Here are some spooky October ghosts for you!

Prompt: This Old House, historians come to the house and love the ghosts.

+++

“I don’t know what everyone is talking about,” Kevin read aloud to his living room full of eager ghosts. “While the beds were great, the showers were frankly decadent, and the breakfast was delicious, we didn’t see a single ghost during our whole visit. 10/10 for comfort and service, but 0/10 for ghosts.”

“Oh, I remember her,” Henry spoke up when Kevin finished reading the review. “She was rude. Kept saying how trashy she thought the decorations were.”

“We agreed it would be the best for her not to see any of us,” Franklin agreed cheerfully. “You always tell us that supply and demand makes for a better marketing scheme.”

So far, renting out a room here and there in Mallory House had been shockingly lucrative, and surprisingly satisfying. Kevin had been dubious about letting the ghost hunting team into his house, but it turned out to be more than worth the trouble. With a cook, one who specialized in interesting historic food, hired on full-time, the house had a guest almost every weekend. Kevin worried that he and his ghosts would get tired of the constant company, but so far, all of their guests had either been easily scared off after a single night, or thrilled to get to chat with the ghosts.

There had been no less than four historians come to talk to the ghosts. Mostly to Elizabeth and William, but also to Franklin, and even shy Prudence, who rarely came out of the attic where her spinning wheel still sat.

Speaking of Pru…

“Prudence, this is one from that lady who wanted to talk fibers with you. The one with all the questions about historical wool suppyand handling,” Kevin told the shy young woman, no older than twenty, who fell victim to the Spanish Flue only a few short years after Franklin’s suicide. “I was nervous about meeting with a ghost of all people, but Miss Prudence Connal was one of the sweetest young ladies I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting. Her spinning wheel, lovingly restored by the house’s owner and only living resident, is a work of art. Wonderful service! If I could give more than five stars, I would. My next visit is already booked!”

“She was nice,” prudence murmured. She couldn’t embroider, not anymore, but her spinning wheel still had enough of her essence and love in it to function for her, provided that someone else assured a good supply of wool, carded and ready for her. If Kevin had to guess, that job wouldn’t be his for very much longer. Not if Pru made friends with the local fiber-crafts people. “I’m glad she’s coming back for a visit. She promised to bring me some of that lovely alpaca wool she was working when she was here.”

“Sounds like she liked you as much as you liked her,” Kevin assured Prudence. She still needed some encouragement now and again. “Okay, next review- ah crap. Elizabeth, it’s that guy from last week. Told you we hadn’t heard the last of him.”

“I didn’t touch a hair on his head,” Elizabeth protested, although they both knew exactly who the guest in question was. “And I caught him trying to steal three of the silver forks.”

Elizabeth might be willing to have guests, but she would never tolerate thieves.

“I don’t’ know if it’s good special effects or drugged coffee,” Kevin read the review for Elizabeth, who was smiling and not at al repentant. “But the walls of my room started bleeding. When I got up for the bathroom around two-am, I looked in the mirror, there was someone behind me. When I turned around, there was nobody there. That’s when the lightbulb in my bathroom exploded- is that why there was glass everywhere when I went in to check on him?”

“The lightbulb was me,” Franklin admitted with an also-not-very-repentant smile of apology. “We saw it in that ghost movie we watched two weeks ago.”

“Seems to have worked. Anyway, ‘about that time I realized that there’s a reason why kids hide under the bed when they’re scared. Went back to bed, but kept waking up as blood dripped onto my face from the ceiling. When I woke up the next morning, the sheets were pristine. Guess I believe in ghosts now, but there’s not enough money in the world to make me go back to Mallory House ever again.”

“Oh good,” William said, no doubt the one the man saw in the mirror. He was usually the one who did for the male visitors that Elizabeth wanted to scare off. “Even if he did try to come back, we would have to decline. It’s no good when the guests try to pocket the silver.”

“I’ll make sure to put it in the disclaimer,” Kevin sighed. The disclaimer about the house, which now included waving the right to sue for ‘nightmares, mental trauma, or injury sustained in fleeing the premises’ was growing longer for every objectional visitor who came through looking to prove that the ghosts weren’t real.

They were real.

They didn’t like being doubted.

Kevin was making a fortune.

So really, pretty much everyone was happy. Okay, the skeptics weren’t so happy, but they all paid the nonrefundable fee for their stay and breakfast, so Kevin really didn’t care what else they did. The bad reviews were almost as good as the good ones. At least most of them screamed about the ghosts, which were Mallory House’s big draw.

“That’s all the new ones,” Kevin said and set his tablet aside. “Now, who has ideas for what to do for Halloween?”

+++

This Old House:

A haunted house isn’t the usual first choice for a fixer-upper, but Keven likes horror movies, and doesn’t mind when his ghost throw things, as long as they don’t damage the new paint.

Experienced Home-Buying

Living Negotiation (Subscriber-Only!)

White Roses and Deck Railings

Bats at Twilight

Difference of Opinion

Art Treasures of Old

Malicious Smile (Subscriber-Only!)

Family Night (Free on Patreon!)

Stay Creepy

+++

More Stories!

+++

[shanlonwrites]

I am applying for my dream job as an exhibit planner and writer with an exhibit design firm and I have to go through all of my work from my previous job to build a portfolio. And it is just reopening that trauma all over again. Yuck. 

I have been terrified of getting a full time job again because my last job was so stressful that I would come home, sit down, and cry on the reg. I didn’t have the energy to do anything but go to work, come home, and half-watch TV. No socialization, no going out, I only cleaned on the weekends. I was depressed. Because I constantly felt like I couldn’t keep up. 

The plus side of it is: the more I am forced to examine that job, the more I realize just how batshit crazy it was. Do you know what I accomplished in just a year and a half working there?  

TOO MUCH.

I made a list (below) and Jesus H Christ, it’s no wonder I felt like I couldn’t keep up!

Stuff I did in 19 months as “graphic designer” at this startup: 

- created a brand guide

- performed historical research to correct factual errors about what was a top-secret military site, with zero budget for materials

- completely rewrote the tour manual

- trained new tour guides

- helped hire new tour guides and event staff

- created signage for the interior and the exterior

- created designs for multiple vouchers, gift certificates, pamphlets, and flyers - most of which went unused because I was also expected to hand those out myself I guess. I had almost no direction in any of this.

- planned and executed an Easter event

- planned and executed two major Halloween events, one of which involved soliciting donations from local businesses

- planned, designed, and project managed, acquired furnishing for, and tested and adjusted, the construction of a full escape room

- created 8 pieces of original art for the original escape rooms

- created 9 more pieces of original art for my own escape room

- planned, designed, constructed, tested, and operated a mini pop-up escape room for festivals

- ran both of those escape rooms, as well as all of the events, myself (with help! but still)

- planned, filmed, and edited together something like 15 “professional quality” videos (I am not a photographer or a video editor)

- shot all of the photography used in social media (until we hired a photography student as an event staff, and thank goodness for her!)

- planned, wrote, and managed social media content, including a blog

- this involved constantly having to push back against cheapo hack firms the boss kept hiring to plan our social media for us, and which only ended up making us look like cheapo hacks. One of those cheapo hacks mansplained UX to me, a UX designer. His UI was u n u s a b l e. 

- completely redesigned and rebuilt the website; also managed the website, which I was not aware was part of that deal until I was asked why I wasn’t doing it (”Because you literally never asked me to but okay I guess.”)

- designed, ordered, sold merch (t-shirts and stuff with the business logo on them for some reason???)

- investigated and helped select appropriate booking software for our needs. Twice.

- managed bookings and set up the software

- managed large group bookings

- full branding for a laser tag league that never came to be

- multiple poster designs

- designed, painted, and decorated four esports rooms

- designed and decorated a birthday party room

- set up attendance at multiple local events to spread awareness, then staffed the events myself

- cooked hamburgers and hot dogs for goddamn paintball players on the weekend

- planned a failed Valentine’s day event

- which failed because I was also in charge of marketing and not only am I not a fully trained marketer, have you seen the list of other shit I was supposedly responsible for? 

- More???

Fuck me, I guess I can see why I was so stressed all the time. 

[awkwardgtace]

Secret Brother Pt2

Continuing Ian and Mikhail gonna keep the same tws unless someone's asked for changes

TW: mentions of abandonment. Later parts will have mentions of a borrower being treated like a pet this is entirely painted in how fuckin wrong it is and how it added to the trauma.

Part 1 Part 3 (Final)

Secret Brother Part 2

Mikhail started living a double life after that. He was making good progress with Ian. He wasn’t sure how Ian had made any kind of home before, he seemed to struggle with basic bits of borrowing. It was becoming the highlight of most days to go home and sneak in to his own house the size of a borrower. Ian seemed almost nervous to be left in a house with a human alone, it didn’t make a ton of sense. The thing that started his move before must have been pretty bad.

The last few months had been a bit stressful too. At least one of his students seemed aware that the dorm ‘ghost’ had left with him. She claimed it was discussing her thesis, but it seemed to be highly focused on borrowers. Although she kept calling it a hypothetical idea of small beings. A study on the folklore of creatures like that which pop up in a lot of cultures. Finding ways to push her to new topics was becoming hard. Mikhail was looking forward to his afternoon with Ian.

“Ian, you around bud?” he called out. Ian rushed at him, covering his mouth. Mikhail looked at him curiously. Ian slowly slid his hand off him, seemingly happy with the silence. “What was that about?”

“I, uh, I thought I heard the human before,” he said nervously. Mikhail had been quiet, he hadn’t even opened his door. “I figured we should be extra quiet today, or just stay here, I have enough supplies for at least a week.”

Mikhail studied him, this wasn’t normal. Even if he made noise on his way, he can’t hear the noise in the walls as a human. Well he couldn’t hear them this far in, he made Ian move to make sure of that. Ian was jumpy, looking around like something would show up out of nowhere. He’d go with it for now, they’d hang out in the walls. He could teach him better sewing and they could work out the paths a little more.

“All right bud,” he said, hoping the smile would calm him. “We can stay in the walls just get some chores done in here, set up some extra paths you may need.”

Ian visibly calmed hearing that. He grabbed Mikhail’s arm and dragged him to the makeshift table. He had plenty of projects he started and needed guidance on. Mikhail was happy to oblige. They worked in a casual silence, Ian showing the parts he struggled with and Mikhail guiding him. It was a pretty normal day as far as life for a borrower is concerned, but Mikhail couldn’t ignore how terrified Ian was. It couldn’t just be that he thought he heard Mikhail, or well the human sized Mikhail, in the house. He was trying to think of how to bring it up when Ian dropped his project.

“Mik,” he started. “You’ve been coming to this house for a long time right?”

“Yeah it’s a normal stop,” he answered. He didn’t think he wanted to know where this was going.

“What do you think of this human?” Ian looked at him, his eyes had something in them he couldn’t read.

“I’m not sure what you mean bud,” he knew the right responses, but didn’t want to give them. He didn’t want to encourage Ian to be afraid of him.

“L-let’s say, there was a human you knew was bad, like really bad. If you had to pick between them and the human here, which would you pick?”

“I mean, as far as I can tell with this human, they wouldn’t do anything bad,” he started slowly. “I don’t know how bad the bad human would be in this scenario, but I’d pick the human who lives here. I’ve known them for an extremely long time, they don’t seem the type to do anything cruel.”

Ian nodded solemnly. Something was going on and he wasn’t telling him. Mikhail was tempted to push, but there wasn’t a good way to ask. He didn’t like leaving like this, but he had some work to get done this weekend, he couldn’t stay. He ruffled Ian’s hair standing to stretch, then started gathering the few things of his he brought with him. Ian grabbed his shoulder tightly.

“Mik, can you stay? For a few days?” his voice was small. Mikhail wanted to stay, to help him with what he wasn’t saying, but he couldn’t. He had to grade assignments and review thesis topics. He turned with a sad smile to Ian.

“I’m sorry Ian, I can’t. Honestly I may be gone for about a week this time. I can’t put off this work much longer. It won’t f-”

“Can I come?”

Mikhail sighed, “Ian I can’t take you with me for these trips. It won’t feel that long promise.”

Ian let go of him. Mikhail turned and saw he looked close to tears. He pulled Ian into a hug, holding tightly. Ian melted into it, seeming to need some sort of reassurance. Mikhail was more reluctant to leave, but he had to work so they could keep this up anyway. He let go and moved towards the exit, relieved to see Ian sitting back down at the table. He’d tell Ian the truth next time, he had to know he wasn’t as alone as he thought when ‘Mik’ wasn’t around.

“We’ll talk about some important stuff when I come back too all right?” he asked. Ian perked up, nodding with a look of relief. Things like that seemed to calm him, promises that meant he’d return without that being the promise. Once outside the house Mikhail waited a few minutes before shifting back. He needed to make sure Ian wasn’t planning to follow him. Once sure he focused and the world returned to its usual view. He took slow steps toward his car, climbing in to move it. Next time he saw Ian wasn’t going to be easy. He pulled the car off to the side, hidden completely from view for the weekend.

He sighed as he walked in, far from excited to deal with the guilt he’d be feeling. He went straight to his desk, if he could make it through the papers fast enough he could talk with Ian sooner. He pulled out the first and got to reading, blocking out the world around him. Ian wouldn’t come out for a while based on how he was acting. Hours passed as he worked through the assignments, a number of which would need to be completely redone. The black ink on white paper getting to him, he walked out to get a drink. The house was dark, he never bothered to turn on any lights when he came in. He reached the kitchen and flicked the light on, nearly screaming.

Sitting at the center of the table was Ian, his hook placed clearly out of reach. Mikhail couldn’t believe his eyes. He decided to act like he saw nothing, continuing on to get his water. He would go back to his desk and then Ian could keep up whatever crazy thing he was planning. Unless this had to do with the question earlier about trusting the human here. Did he know it was Mikhail who lived here? Ian must have figured it out. He turned to leave, trying so hard not to let his concern show.

“H-human!” Ian called out. There went any hope of pretending not to see him. Mikhail locked his eyes on Ian, the boy flinching as he gained the attention he wanted. Mikhail crouched down, getting himself eye level with the borrower. He was barely ready for whatever this meant.

“Hi?” he said. He had no idea how to do this. Wait he called out human, does Ian not know?

“I-I want to make a deal with you.” Ian was trying to be confident. Mikhail felt a lot of pride at that. He was so much more confident than he was a few months ago.

“What do you need?”

“I-if you’ll keep the bad human from me and my friend I’ll stay with you.”

“Wait what? What bad human? What do you mean stay with me?” Mikhail was utterly lost. Ian was here in front of him when he was human. Offering to stay with him in exchange for protection from the bad human. Now he really needed to know what was going on. He leaned down on the table, arms as a pillow, to be a little closer.

“I-I ran away from a human. They were keeping me as a,” he paused a mixture of fear and disgust on his face, “as a pet. I’ll stay with you as one if you’ll keep the bad one from me and my friend.”

“First no to that whole pet thing, you’re clearly a person. Second, I need to know about this bad human to help.”

“I-I can be good. I won’t run from you. I’ll be the project thingy for you they were talking about. I can-”

“Whoa slow down buddy, I just need information.” Mikhail was trying hard to stay calm. This is what scared him so much. Some human kept him as a pet and brought him to the school. Mikhail was going to deal with this, later though for now Ian had to calm down.

“I can do tricks, I won’t complain really. You can go get a cage now and I’ll wait right here. I won’t move at all. I won’t fight if you try to show me off either. I’ll be a good pet just as long as you protect us.”

“Kiddo, I just said the pet thing isn’t happening. I’ll just help you if you talk to me about this bad human.”

“I’m not stupid. I know you’ll want something eventually. I’m giving you something. I know you spend time at the place the bad human had brought me. I’ll be obedient for anything you need just keep the bad one away. I put the only way I can get down far enough away. Just admit you like this idea and-”

“Ian, knock it off! I’m not entertaining you talking about yourself like that’s all you’re good for. You’re a person, damn it!” Mikhail shouted. He hadn’t meant to, but hearing Ian thought he’d like this idea hurt. Over the last few months Ian felt like a younger brother, he’d do anything for him.

“H-How do you know my name?” Ian’s eyes were wide. Mikhail didn’t realize he used his name, he’d gotten lucky until now. Ian seemed far more scared than before hearing the human knew his name, starting to back away. Mikhail stood up and backed off. This wasn’t what he wanted to happen. He was going to have to show him as much as he hated it. He made his way back over to the table gripping the edge with both hands. He focused on them as he willed himself smaller. He pulled himself onto the table then sped up how fast he shifted. Focusing his gaze on Ian once he was done.

“This,” Mikhail gestured to himself, “would be why you couldn’t come with me.”

[mauserfrau]

Mau's Very Silly Headcanon Post

Since I have two pieces of fiction going live this weekend and they’re both going to be late due to butting into each other XD.

I did another one here and there’s going to be some overlap, but less bodily function stuff in this one (mostly spit) (also some vague references to medical trauma).

A lot of this is small potatoes because I didn’t want to spoil anything.  How Phaseleech actually works ends up being a plot point in what I have pending, so I actually can’t just come out and say what’s going on.  That said, I’m sure there are people here who want to know what’s on my mind, but who don’t want to sit through 50K words with half a dozen squick warnings.

That said: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mauser_Frau

Questions welcome, about this, anything else I think about Borderlands, what exactly is in Chapter 13 of Satellite, if it’s true the one flashback actually happened to Mom... 

Both

-Look, the only thing I did that’s appreciably off-canon is let them have emotions.  Maybe I drove into left field with what those emotions were, but that’s really all anybody’s got to do to fix this situation.  Go with the deity of your choice.  

-If I was headed for a Gearbox ending, it would be for the scrapped one, not the one we got.  See this and this other thing.

>>>I would still have written the twins as having something resembling a meaningful relationship regardless of whether that turned out romantic or not.  As things went and are, them as a couple was something I knew how to write and my mom shipped them (no, I’m not kidding).  

-I’m not going for a canon ending.  Mercy, did I find a thread I could snap and take the whole sweater out.  

-Both had blue siren markings when they were born; Troy’s turned red after they were separated.

--Which was a complicated mess-- they were upside-down verses each other and had several secondary adhesions, the most notable of which was Tyreen’s face to Troy’s thigh.

---Leda never 100% recovered from the emotional or physical trauma, but she put on a brave face for the last sevenish years of her life.  

---Troy’s tissue loss was severe and left him with a notable pit in his upper right side.

---Tyreen also has heavy scarring running from her right armpit to her right hip.  It’s not as complex, but it is very visible.  Missing a fair amount of intestine compared to the average human, but this has apparently never bothered her beyond the fact that visiting the toilet when you don’t eat is not fun.

-Semi-identical twins. Have 82.5% of their genes in common.  LSS, neither one is a parasite.  They’re two sperm plus one egg and they didn’t divide right.

--Ms. Phaseleech* didn’t know any better.  #oops  

--If you get them relaxed enough, they will indeed curl up together in their “fish” position.

-Tyreen is the one who would wail first if separated from her brother when they were very small, but they don’t like being apart even as adults.  

-Both very well-read, used to recite The Odyssey to congregants instead of scripture (‘cause they didn’t have any scripture). 

-Good to excellent hunters. Depends what they’re hunting and if they’re together.  Prefer to go barefoot if there’s no one else around.

-The circumstances surrounding Leda’s death are appreciably worse than fanon baseline to the point I don’t think I ought to leave them lying around in a Tumblr post.  

-Both have wavy hair if they don’t iron the daylights out of it.

-Prefer to be on the road and around people, even if a fair amount of those people are going to end up dinner.

-Get weirdly soft-hearted around kids, especially little boys with a similar complexion to their own.

-Do they have any concept that they’re horrible people? Yes, but it’s very academic and not something that motivates them.  You’d be way more likely to hear them frame themselves as hedonists, which also explains their worldview to a certain extent.  

~*~

Troy

-Skinnier than most other Troys.  You could put him in a room with every fandom Troy and sort them by muscle mass, you’d find him at the bottom end, partying like this was an accomplishment.  

-Has an X-linked connective tissue disorder which is more extensive than he lets on.  He really should not do about 90% of the stunts he does because of the vascular involvement.

-Made a categorical decision to treat the associated pain with a lot of cannabis and massage.  Has a distinct resin and honey body butter smell because of this.

--Also, if you get him off-hours, there’s going to be a fair amount of “but why are we here, man?” discussion.

-Has a kink in his upper back.  His spine tilts to his right.  Not super noticeable, but if you were on massage duty, you’d realize something felt out of place.  

-Used to get catastrophic nosebleeds, though these have lessened in frequency and severity over the years.  

-After a certain point, has a permanent latching socket port installed on his right side, allowing him to switch arms out as he likes.

--Because he has a selection of eccentric ones.  What? It’s a challenge to learn to use non-human aspects like claws or feathers or forty joints in a tentacle.  

--Still flounces around without one if nobody of consequence is watching and generally won’t sleep with one in.

-The insides of his ear gauges are messy and don’t even get him started on changing the jewelry on any, erm, other piercings he might have.  (Nipples and one off-center PA.  That was QUITE enough after what it took for his tattoos to cooperate.) 

-Will frame any illness or off-day as a migraine, which he does get.

-Had really bad teeth before his mouth mods.  After that, has none of his natural teeth remaining.  Primarily uses his exceptional bite radius to annoy others, show off, eat sandwiches in a disturbing fashion and do unspeakable things in bed.  They’re for show.  They’re not functional in any serious way.  

-Doesn’t have great control of said mouth mods in the heat of passion or if you get him laughing hard enough.  Hope you like spit!

-Still has rather heinous-looking feet, but he’s concerned about losing his calluses if he has them fixed.  You’d be more likely to see him open on an operating table than barefoot in public.  

-Always wants to be the little spoon.  You’re a tink? You’re a third his size? So what.  He wants to be the little spoon.  Just give in.

-Genuinely likes tea, especially flower-based tea.  Favorite foods include grits, polenta, tamales, campfire beefy rice, beef and broccoli layered onto somebody else’s leftover noodles, beef curry, beef sandwiches soaked in jus, steak tips on day-old fries and look just give him a sloppy plate of starch and dead cow if you need him to shut up.  

-Drinks vodka so cold and over-filtered it tastes like water, then follows it up with extra greasy, burnt-to-hell texas toast while talking about his mother.

-Lactose intolerant.  Please do not feed the rat child pizza. Or chipped beef on toast.  No, not even if he begs.  

~*~

Tyreen

-Abnormally acute senses, especially hearing/smell and including a form of intuition which targets where things she can leech exist nearby.  She’s only aware of any of this in the context of it being different from how Troy’s senses work.  She knows where to get food.  Don’t most people?

-Doesn’t perceive herself as 100% human.  The Leech is part of her and she likes herself.  Mama said she was perfect.  The details are whatever.  You got a problem here? Well, that’s easy to fix… 

-Would have been sorted as a tomboy growing up, but had no companions to do so.  As is, prefers the company of masculine individuals, loves showing people up in a boyish fashion and is absolutely going to tune you out if you start talking to her about the topic.  

-Reeks.  You might smell something “off” with her around in a meeting room, but get her sweaty or worked up and forget it.  It’s not even a human smell.  Petrichor and spray paint, menstrual blood and chlorine, dead leaves and solvent.  It’s chemical, it’s uncannily biological.  It’s really not OK.  She can’t smell it and Troy’s used to it.  

-Doesn’t shave.  Has fluffy armpits that don’t match her dye job and a rather spectacular bush that extends onto her upper thighs.  Does pluck here brows and the witch hairs on her chin, but otherwise, you know what, nah.

-Heavily tattooed, but this is limited to her torso.  The viewing of said tattoos, as well as her scars, is a ritual in her particular CoV.  

--Not that she cares about being naked.  A body is a body.  You people are so uptight.  

-Will reflexively guard her lower stomach before anything else and sometimes in error.  Do not call her on this.  You will piss her off.  

-Has an eye-shaped siren marking, but it’s on her left shoulder blade and she tends to forget it’s there.  More aware of the “pointer mark” underneath her navel.

-Poor tolerance for any drugs.

-Can only ingest salt, sucrose and 80 proof or better clear alcohol without retching.

--Which is to say she doesn’t eat “people food”.  

--Fatty or high-fiber foods tend to make her ill faster.  She could possibly keep tofu or chicken breast down for an hour or more, but it’s still not going to end well.  

--Can and does eat cinder toffee because it’s one of the few things she can chew and digest.  Konpeito is nice too, but sometimes the dye upsets her stomach.  

--Milk, maybe.  Human works better.

-Enjoys swimming or long baths.

-Ambidextrous.  Was either born that way or picked up doing certain things left-handed because that’s what her brother had to work with and she had to show him how to do stuff somehow.

-Good with a forearm-mounted crossbow.  Either hand is fine.

-Used to drool precipitously when she leeched something “good”.  Mostly has a handle on this by the time the CoV gets to be a thing.  Mostly.  

-Deeply immature love language which might include her actually asking to play with her prospective partner and a good bit of bullying.

-SHE IS NOT SHY ABOUT HER NEEDS AND KINKS.  THE HELL WITH YOU.  YOU’RE MAKING SOMETHING OUT OF NOTHING.  HOW DARE YOU.  DO YOU WANT TO BE SKAG BAIT ON THE NEXT LIVESCREAM.  UGH. #nottsundereatall

~*~

* The Leech IDed herself as, erm, herself in some stuff I’m not sure I’ll ever post but ANYWAY.

[xenwritings]

Better Than You [Doyoung p.3]

Under the cut

It’s only been a few days since you last saw Doyoung. You honestly hated yourself so much. Johnny has been silently encouraging you because he knew you weren’t ready to talk yet. Which really only made you feel worse.

“Hey, just a heads up the guys are coming over later.” Johnny pokes his head through the crack in your door as you are doing some homework at your desk.

“Okay.” You say without looking up at him.

“Want me to tell them you’re not home so they don’t ask about you?”

“Yes please,” this time you do look up at him and you immediately have tears in your eyes. He comes and kneels down by your chair and spins you around.

“Okay, I will.”

“I’m sorry Johnny.” you say.

“Why? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Because you have to be so accommodating to me just because I have unresolved traumas, when you really don’t have to be. But you just are the best brother and I am a piece of garbage who can’t even learn your friends names. Like? I belong in the toilet? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about some shit that happened years ago and you’ve done nothing but play along with my shitty way of avoiding my problems.”

“Woah, slow down Y/N” he said. “You are doing so much better than you were 2 years ago. I know it might not feel like anything but you have grown so much since then. You might not be where you want to be, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t closer than you were before.”

“Have you been reading inspiring quote books again?” you sniffle at him.

“Shut up and hug me.” He laughs while pulling you up to hug him and you laugh with him.

“Thanks for being the best.” you mumble into his shoulder.

“Hey it’s what I do.” he replies.

“Aww what a cute moment!” Chungha says from your door. The two of you pull away and laugh at her comment. “How you doing bubs?” she looks at you lovingly.

“I’m okay I think.” You say with your still red cheeks.

“Want to do a girls night while the guys are over?” Chungha suggests. Johnny looks at you anticipating your answer.

“I would love that.” you smile at her. Truth is your girls nights usually include Johnny and you don’t think you have spent alone time for extended time with Chungha before. You trusted her but you still felt uneasy about it.

-

“Where is Y/N?” Doyoung immediately asks once him and the rest of the boys enter the apartment.

“She’s uh...not home right now.” Johnny says noticing a new sweatshirt in his hands.

“Oh i brought this to exchange with her.” Doyoung holds up the yellow sweatshirt.

“Yeah let me go grab it from her room and switch it for you.” he quickly grabs the sweatshirt and speed-walks to your room so that Doyoung doesn’t follow him. Johnny quickly opens the door and shuts it as he enters your room. “Here.” He throws it at your face as he looks for the sweatshirt from before. Once he finds it he quickly opens the door and looks back at you. “Exchange from Doyoung.” Then he closes the door behind him.

-

“Dude, where is Chungha? She always joins us for game night.” Jaehyun asks.

“She had other plans.” Johnny replies quickly.

“Well anyways, like I was saying before -- I slept with peach at the frat party last weekend and she hasn’t called me yet?” Jaehyun complains.

“Why do you assume she is going to call you?” Doyoung asks.

“Dude.” Jaehyun says. “They always call. Baby got her first taste. Baby gotta get seconds.”

“You’re actually disgusting.” Taeil stated.

“I’m just saying girls always call after they are with me.” Jaehyun replies.

“Do you want her to call?” Doyoung says. “don’t you hate when girls are thirsty like that?”

“yeah but it’s been 5 days and she hasn’t called?” Jaehyun says. Johnny simply laughs at his friends and texts Chungha to check in.

-

You and Chungha have been pampering yourselves all night. Which started with face masks and impulsive hair dying. But is now ending with nail painting as you two chatted and had some sitcom playing on TV.

“I really appreciated this. Thank you.” You say to her.

“Of course, Y/N” she smiles at you. “You’re the sweetest girl I know. You deserve the world.”

“I really don’t but go off I guess.” You laugh.

“Hey! You do!” she defends. “You are kind and caring and passionate.”

“I’m emotional.”

“No.” She says. “You are passionate. You care so much about other people before yourself. You are so kind and willing to help. There are only a few people on this planet that are generous the way you are. I know right now it might suck and feel like that is the reason you are where you are. But our greatest weakness also tends to be our greatest strength.”

“Isn’t it the other way around?” you lay your head on her shoulder.

“I mean yeah but it is a two way street, honey.” she says. “right now it feels like your weakness but it is also your strength. Don’t forget that.” She finishes painting your nails and gets up from the bed.

“Hey, Chungha?” You speak up before she gets to your door. She turns to look at you. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Honey.” She smiles at you before leaving your room.

You sigh when she closes the door. Was that true? That our greatest strength is our greatest weakness? Or the other way around? It just feels like no matter whoever you get close to or even slightly open up to disappears.

-

Chungha enters the living room and all the boys greet her.

“Hey! Johnny said you were somewhere else.” Taeyong hugs her.

“Oh, I was just in Y/N’s room.” She chuckles.

“Johnny said she wasn’t home?” Doyoung quickly enters the conversation at the mention of your name.

“Yeah she was taking a nap in Y/N’s room!” Johnny interrupts looking at Chungha sternly.

“Oh yeah, her bed is softer than Johnny’s bed is why.” Chungha says confused as to why Johnny butted in the way he did but went along anyways. But her hair was a different color and it didn’t make sense that she was in there by herself? Doyoung tried to brush it off like the rest of the boys but he couldn’t. You were home? Did you not want to see him as much as he had been wanting to see you?

-

You smiled at the yellow sweatshirt in your hands. It smelled like Doyoung and there was something incredibly comforting about it. You pulled it over your head and started to get ready for bed. Before you got into your sheets you heard a crumble and reached into the pocket of the hoodie.

Hi >.<

I was wondering if you would want to get coffee or something sometime? I would love to get to know you better and I wasn’t sure if your brother would take it the wrong way or not.

Text me!

xxxx-xxx-xxxx

Doyoung

Dongyoon ^.^

-

You couldn’t decide whether or not you wanted to text him or not. You laid in bed and could not fall asleep because he was on your mind. 2 hours later you frustratingly flipped your sheets and walked out into the living room. The boys were long gone by now and you needed some air. You step out onto your balcony and breath in the crispy night breeze.

“Hey.” Johnny stepped out with you. He looked at the lost look on your face. “Late night feels?”

“Late night feels.” you say. He quickly goes back in the apartment and returns with a blanket to lay on the wood of your balcony.

“Come on.” He says patting the spot next to him for you to sit. “What’s on your mind?”

“I think Doyoung asked me on a date.” you sit next to him.

“Oh.” He says thinking for a second. “You should go.” You stare at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, he is a nice guy. He probably just wants to get to know you better. Chungha and I talk about you a lot with the guys he is probably curious.”

“That is date worthy?”

“Hey you will always have markers and crusty spaghetti-os on your face to me but that doesn’t mean that is how other people see you.” he laughs and you laugh with him. “I’m not saying fall in love with him. I am saying give it a try.”

“I don’t know, Johnny.”

“Y/N. It’s been 2 years. You are stronger than you think you are.” He gets up from the blanket and walks back into the apartment, leaving you there with your thoughts.

-

-

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

[samdeancass]

Evening Away

Requested by: Anonymous

Pairing: Damon x Elena

Genre: Fluffy Fluff, implied smut

Characters: Damon, Elena

Description: Damon takes Elena on a much needed getaway.

Lately, Damon and Elena have defied all odds. Nobody thought that they would last because of the trauma that they had both been through. But they both made it through to the other side. Because of this, Damon thought that they both needed some time away, just the two of them, to relax and reconnect with each other. He had booked a fancy hotel with a swimming pool and a masseuse. It was going to be the best weekend for Elena. Damon was full to the brim of excitement to tell her, he knew she would jump at the chance to getaway from the supernatural magnet that was Mystic Falls.

Damon walked through Elena’s front door and up the stairs to her bedroom. He found her lying on the bed, studying. He tried to speak to her but she couldn’t hear him due to the music in her ears that was blasting at full volume. Elena looked up and jumped at the large frame that was hovering over her.

“Oh my God! Damon, don’t do that! You scared me!” Putting down her pen and taking out her earphones, Elena sat upright on the bed and patted the space next to her for Damon to take a seat. “Well, I was standing in front of you for about 5 minutes, talking to you, before you decided to lift your head up. Literally, somebody could have been murdered in this house and you wouldn’t have known. Is there any need to have the music up that high?” Elena looked at Damon with a bitch face. “Yes, actually. It helps me to concentrate.” Damon laughed “How in the holy hell can you concentrate with that racket in your ears?” Elena hit Damon on the back of the head. “Did you want something or did you just come over to insult my music?”. Giving Elena a little smirk, Damon stood up and held out his hand towards her, which she took.

“Well, i thought, seeing as we’ve both had a rough time lately, why don’t we go away somewhere, just the two of us. A large swimming pool, a lovely massage and of course some much needed time together. How does that sound?” Elena’s face lit up with happiness and she engulfed Damon in a hug. “That sounds amazing, Damon. When do we leave?” “Tonight. Pack your things and be ready by 8. I’ll pick you up.” Damon kissed the top of Elena’s head and walked away, leaving Elena buzzing with excitement of the night to come.

Surely enough, 8 o’clock rolled around and Damon was already outside of the house, sitting on the hood of his car. Elena walked out of the door and threw her bags into the trunk of the car, giving Damon a kiss as she walked by. Soon enough, the car was backed out of the driveway and they were both on their way to enjoy their time together. 

When they rolled up to the entrance of the hotel, Elena was gobsmacked. “Damon! This must have cost a fortune! How on earth did you manage to book this place?” Elena turned to her side as Damon placed the car in park. “Well, my dear. I managed to persuade them to give it to me for free, if you know what I mean.” Damon wiggled his eyebrows and Elena whacked him. “Well, no matter how you got us into this place, thank you. It’s lovely.” Elena leaned over and gave Damon a kiss. “Only the best for my girl!”

The inside of the hotel looked better than the outside. Elena was awestruck when she walked in. Red carpet on the floors, famous paintings on the walls, gold trimmed walls; it was everything a girl could want from a hotel. Once Damon had booked them in and had their bags taken upstairs, Damon lead Elena to the garden out the back. 

By this time, it had turned nightfall and the stars were shining bright against the night sky. Damon and Elena were walking through the garden, hand in hand, enjoying each others company and breathing in the cool night air. “This is nice, Damon. Thank you so much. I wish we could stay in a place like this all the time, escape our problems, forget about everything that’s happened. It’s just not that often that we get to spend time like this together.” Elena's eyes began to well up and she tilted her head down, not wanting to upset Damon on this magical night. “Hey.” Damon tilted Elena’s head up using two of his fingers. “You don’t need to thank me. You deserve this, we both do. After everything that we have both gone through, we needed this. Time to ourselves, time to become us again. I love you, Elena, and this was the best way I could show how much. Now, whaddya say, we go upstairs, get changed and go for some dinner, yeah?” Elena wiped her tears and nodded her head. And with that, Damon led her inside and up to their room.

Elena wanted to show just how much she was thankful for what Damon had done for her, so she put on her best dress, did her hair and makeup, and planned to make this night as special for him as it was for her. When Elena exited the room, Damon’s jaw dropped at how beautiful she looked, he was literally speechless. “Well, that’s a first. I’ve rendered Damon Salvatore speechless.” Damon walked over and pulled Elena into a very passionate kiss. “You look beautiful.” Damon looked down at Elena and gave her a soft smile. “What did I do to deserve somebody as beautiful as you?” Elena blushed at this and took Damon’s hand, guiding him out of the door and down to the restaurant.

The rest of the night was filled with tender kisses and soft touches until they went back up to the bedroom, where Elena showed Damon exactly how thankful she was.

Tags: @akshi8278

[berlinner]

performing

at 9. first as a cub scout with a whiffle and singing a ‘negro’ spiritual in black face (burnt cork on grease paint). that was the first time i remember doing anything like this. the unfamiliar rush in my skinny chest in front of a crowd of easy-to-love-you parents. i think i’d seen my dad in the Pirates of Penzance and was bowled over. the lights, color, make-up, huge bellowing voices and pit band killed me, as well as the on-the-road Broadway musicals that hit Philly i went to with my family. the stage was lit up like a forest fire with dancing, gesticulating big busty broads and (did i know it at the time?) gay gay gay chorus boys. what was this? why did it hit me so hard? how was i drawn to this flame? this had to have inspired my show-n-tell boyhood. i’d whip a cape around my shoulders and jump through windows onto the lawn as if to save the day. i busted through a barn wall into a room-within-a-room and imagined myself Flash Gordon. i would mind-wander out a 3rd story window into an other-personality night sky and fantasize a dream cloud Neverland to which i belonged. i banged out ‘original’ piano improvisations at the Prout’s Neck talent show. but when it really took hold was in choir and chorus at the Episcopal Academy. trying out with my thin reed of a voice, singing scales with earnest eyebrows and hoping to impress the choir master with my little boy/girl’s voice. which i did, making choir-boy and chorus-kid. i was exuberant and red-faced in my (brief) tremulous solo at the Big Moment spring concert. i giggled in chapel over smothered farts-in-robes, a hard in-the-pants pencil up against the boy soprano beside me. it weren’t just foolin’ around. it instigated a transformative shiver in the soul, all this showing off in front of any audience. i can’t remember a time, since the cub scout Uncle Remus, when i was not in a play, chorale, glee club or living room show-and-tell. at Yale my entire social life revolved around singing groups. the white-tie prestige, the complex arrangements, the dazzling eyes-that-won’t-let-go-of-you effect on girls and closeted boys. the fat sound, acapella, that could fill a hall. i joined choir, glee club, The Duke’s Men and The Whiffenpoofs. we were ginned-up songsters with tinkling cocktails leaning against mantle pieces, champagne badges of courage in a faux demi-monde, an icicle- keening tenor bounding across a college yard in the autumn frost. sex, music, art, performance was a steak bomb sandwich i ate up. still, i was singing songs i had not written, that didn’t express my inner or outer life. when, years later, on a borrowed upright in an over-stimulated New Haven house, i began to write my own songs and my own music, a shift occurred. i was not filling another’s shoes, but standing in my own. i’m thinking about this now because a friend asked me recently why i perform. i didn’t know what to say. i’d never been asked. i hadn’t thought about it. Bob Dylan said ‘the only time he felt like his real self was on stage’ (off stage being less authentic than ‘real life’). it is the exact same for me. i am my most-est self when i perform. in captivating ears, eyes and hearts one imagines an electric synapse with another. one synthesizes his microscopic view of self, life, friends, loss, trauma, love and sex on a safe proscenium, offered up risk free. and then there’s The Zone. if you give it all you got, if you ‘leave it all on the stage’, you occasionally inhabit an ego-vanishing dimension. your ‘you’ vaporizes. you transmogrify into an energy that is not from, but through the Self. your ‘muse’ weegie boards an art wave. this is intoxicating and let’s face it, you love the love even as you wonder how to win the anonymous heart. you invent reciprocity. the nightmare, the other side of the coin, is the uncertainty that lurks above every singer’s watchtower. the hell possibility of fakery, of when you’re ‘acting and not being’ spits on your face. ‘who the fuck do i think i am? i suck! they hate me! my voice is gross. my songs are horrible! i’m overdoing it. anyone is better at this than i am. i’m wasting your time. etc etc.’ — crash, burn, explode. or when the narcissistic star fucking groupie blow job staggers past an open door, or when the i-need-to-get-high post coital sadness storms in after leaving all your everything on stage, or when the intense need to be loved but no one’s there hurls you into the dank house of horrors. ‘they loved me minutes ago, where are they now?’ it’s lonely at the top (or the bottom), even for a weekend blues warrior, a fat Karaoke singer, a zit-faced shedding teenager doing ‘moves’ in front of a sweaty mirror with a hard-on in his shorts. for all these reasons, pro or con, i do what i do on any given night on any stage that will have me. maybe, like the tenor Jussi Bjorling or like Mark Sandman, i will drop dead performing, no regrets, with slow-motion flowers falling like snow upon the stage.

This is an excerpt from my book, The Paragraphs — Cutlass Press

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