#The series was questionable at best but goddamn there is a lot of whump in that series

[twilight-is-dead]

me: I wonder why I enjoy whump so much…

the keeper of the lost cities series, deviously sitting on my shelf and collecting dust: please read us again

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt. 14 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: Better late than never, and yet still too late.

words: 8.1 k

chapter warning: peter being an idiot, talk of murder, and s*xu*l ass^lt (tw *sa*) descriptions of hospitals, injuries, panic attacks, peter trying his best to be a perfect fluffy boyfriend

series warnings: mob-typical violence, bang bang shoot shoot, whump. hurt/comfort. s*xu*l situations. spousal ab^se. family trauma. dr^g use. coercion. manipulation. kidnapping. gore. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Don't date a mob boss.™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you don't get the Jonas Brothers reference in this chapter, you're probably too young for this.

Back to Part 13.

Part 14

Everything was too loud. Too bright. Too much.

That’s how Peter always used to feel. Never mind the life-long possibility of neurodivergence. When he turned 17, things particularly felt like they were spiraling out of control. He had too much energy, too many inputs of information shoving its way into his brain, too many emotions. No place to put it to use.

He’d spent years honing his ability to focus. To see the bad things coming. To react before they happen. That’s how he’d been able to survive. That’s how he protected his own.

And then one day he’d gotten a cup of coffee and fucked it all up.

He couldn’t get the buzz of fluorescent lights out of his ears. He stood inside a supply room at New York-Presbyterian, trying with difficulty to listen to the voice of the woman standing next to him, and all he could hear was that goddamn buzz, like a chainsaw rattling inside of an oil barrel.

“Hey,” Felicia’s voice sharply snapped, yanking his attention towards her. “Are we boring you or somethin’?”

She, Peter, and a doctor—one of the surgeons who treated Miguel— stood together in the solitude of the small room amongst shelves of PPE, cleaning supplies, and sterilization equipment. They had sequestered themselves in the room for privacy and protection, just in case any unwanted visitors arrived and decided to finish their attack.

Arms crossed, a sharp crease between her microbladed brows, Felicia burned him with her gaze. “You mind at least taking notes for the class if you’re done napping?”

Peter glared back, unappreciative of her tone. “How did this happen?” he asked calmly, eyes shifting back to the surgeon.

“They didn’t give me those details,” she apologetically sighed. Her voice was a low, tense whisper. “But we did find a shard of plastic lodged in his collarbone. Probably disposable cutlery from the cafeteria.”

Peter sighed heavily, eyes grim. He brought his hand up to soothe a piercing ache behind his eyes.

“The damage was extensive,” she explained gravely. “He lost a lot of blood. We counted at least thirteen wounds to the chest and neck. He’s lucky to be alive.”

Peter gritted his teeth, rage bubbling beneath his skin. “Luck.” The word tasted sour as it rolled out of his mouth. He bit his tongue to keep from adding anything further. “Alright, how long until we can move him?”

“Into a private room?” 

“Into a different city,” Peter said.

The doctor blinked. Glanced back between Peter and Felicia. “Are you serious? He can’t leave—”

“Well, he can’t stay,” Peter curtly declared. “The people that wanted him dead are gonna try again the second they get wind that he survived. If they don’t know already.” He glanced warily at the door to the supply room. “And if that’s the case, then everybody in this facility is in danger.” He ground his teeth, corners of his mouth turned down. “And they’re also a threat.”

The surgeon’s eyes darted up to him anxiously, then back to Felicia. She crossed her arms, swallowing with a dry tongue. “Um, sure. I’ll see what I can do. Maybe a few hours, though.”

“One hour,” Peter firmly stated, unsubtle with his criticism. “It’s not safe here. For anyone.”

Holding her tongue, Felicia’s eyes shifted between Peter and the doctor. The air was thick enough to cut through. “Thanks, Helen,” she said pleasantly, a bright contrast from the weight of Peter’s words. “We’re gonna chat a bit then I’ll come out and find ya, ‘kay?” She turned to Peter, with steel eyes and a wide forced smile.

Observing her glare, he gently added, “Thank you, Dr. Cho.”

She nodded, without reply, and discreetly exited the room.

When they were alone, Peter curved his neck like dropping a barbell. Exhaustedly, he pulled his hands down his face. “There’s no way Danny’s people pulled somethin’ like this,” he mused. “This has Kingpin written all over it. Fuckin’ dirty cops, dirty prison guards. Is there anything left in this city that doesn’t have his putrid rot all over it?” He punctuated his frustration by gripping the edges of the steel shelving, indenting his fingers into the metal frame. 

Biting his tongue to calm himself, he paced. “Matt was right. We got another rat. Or something worse. Need to keep our eyes open ‘til we can move Miguel to a safe house.” He exhaled sharply, wrapping his arms across his chest. “We need more men. I’m gonna call in a favor from Brooklyn, see what they—”

“I think I liked you better when you were just a loser,” Felicia muttered, narrowing her eyes on him, “not an asshole.” He snapped his eyes up. “Really, though. This whole ‘fascist-dictator’ persona is throwin’ off my zen.” 

Unamused, he rolled his eyes, grit in his throat. “Say what you wanna say, Cat.”

“Oh, believe me. I will. What in the hell is wrong with you lately?”

“Whaddya want me t’do, alright?” Peter hissed quietly. “Miguel wouldn’t be here if that goddamn D.A. wouldna had a stick up his ass—”

“Wrong, Pete! Miguel wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t almost beaten Danny Rand to death.”

He shot a displeased look at her. He seethed, the memory scorching his brain. “He’ll live.”

Her face twisted with disgust. “Fucking boys!”

“He put his hands on her—!”

“What about it?” she shot back. “You think that hasn’t happened to her before? Are you really that dense?”

“Don’t tell me that,” he warned, feeling his temper rising again. “S’not right—”

“It’s not right, but it happens,” Felicia argued. “Anyone with a pair of tits can tell you they’ve met at least ten Danny Rands—and I’m no exception. But I never tried to murder one, like a goddamn stupid caveman, in a room full of witnesses! Without even checking everyone for weapons first!”

Fixing her with a sorrowful look, he exhaled slowly as he considered her point of view. They both knew she spoke from her history. Deep down, he knew she was right. 

“And for the record,” she added, more poignantly, “she had a chance to stand up for herself and you took that away. That was about you. Not her.”

He cast his eyes downward with a renewed shame. 

“Call Brooklyn,” she flippantly sneered with disdain. “Call Harlem. Call the goddamn Marines. Just make sure you call a shrink afterwards.” 

He swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the floor. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, Spider,” Felicia sighed. Her voice was softer, more sincere, but no less disappointed. “Whatever it is—you need to figure it out before anyone else gets hurt. Your girl included.”

Peter drifted like a ghost through the post-surgery ward. Enough of the staff had been informed by Dr. Cho to ‘pretend you can’t see him until he goes away.’ Like the Boogeyman. 

There was extra anxiety hanging over the hospital floor, apprehension increasing with Peter’s presence. No one wanted to see him, much less be questioned whether or not they did.

When he came upon Miguel’s curtained-off quarters, he tensed at the sight of a figure standing at his bedside. Stunned, his lips parted, eyes wide.

“Miles?” It was the first time he’d seen him in weeks. Not since that night where he stormed out of the penthouse after viciously accusing Peter of—

It didn’t matter. He was right.

The teen was bundled in brandless sweatshirt layers, with a thrifted L.L. Bean puffer coat that he’d owned for years. His chin lifted as he shot a cold look at the older man.

“What are you doin’ here?” Peter said as he approached, brows furrowed with concern. “Is everything okay—”

“No. It’s not okay,” he muttered. “I heard someone came after my family.” Miles nodded towards Miguel’s unconscious body, hooked up to beeping machines and a ventilator. Miles’ voice had an unsubtle edge, defensive and cagey. “What was I supposed to do?”

“You’re supposed to be home with your parents,” Peter said worriedly. He could feel Miles’ anger, but refused to mirror it. “You can’t be here, man. It’s not safe.”

“I know that,” Miles stated grimly. The boy’s dark eyes met Peter’s, and the mob leader couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He looked older, somehow, despite it only being a few weeks since he last saw him. Weariness drew hard lines on his features in a way that broke Peter’s heart. 

He cast his eyes away from Peter, returning his gaze to Miguel. “Nowhere’s safe when you’re around.”

Albany. Annapolis. Atlanta. Augusta. Austin.

“Are you going out dressed like that? You dress like a whore you’re going to get raped one day…”

Baton Rouge. Bismarck. Boise. Boston.

“I gotta say. I never figured you for a mob whore.”

Carson City. Charleston. Cheyenne. Columbia. Columbus. Concord.

“You’re just a perky pair of tits and a wet pussy for him to shove a couple of babies into…”

Denver. Des Moines. Dover.

Stupid, stupid girl.

BOOMBOOMBOOM

Startled, Honey breached the surface of the bath water with a gasp. Instinctively, she covered her nude body with her arms, wrapping them tightly around her body. 

“Please respond, or I’ll be forced to break down the door.”

The masculine voice echoed from the outside of the bathroom, behind a locked door. Honey was alone, chin deep in the suds of a freestanding soaking tub. She wouldn’t be for long, she realized, as she heard another impatient knock from one of Peter’s faceless guards. 

Likely Rollins. Or maybe Mace. Or Faceless Guard Number Five. 

Whoever it was, they were unwelcome.

“This is your final warning,” the voice repeated. She rolled her eyes. Fucking Rollins.

“Alright!” she snapped, indignation filling her voice. “I heard you!”

“Open the door!” Rollins ordered.

“No!” she hissed. “Don’t come in! I’m changing a tampon!”

A pause. Silence. 

“Mr. Parker arranged a vehicle to transport you.” Rollins was less eager to open the door, but no less irritated. “Get dressed. Car’s waiting.”

“Wait, what?” she called back, echoing off the tiles. “For what? Where am I going?”

No answer.

She was alone, left in the dark. Literally. 

She hadn’t even bothered to turn on the lights all day. Instead, she let the afternoon sun pour in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the bathroom, naming the seagulls that flew by, imagining what it’s like to walk through walls, picturing that the glass didn’t exist, and contemplating how brief the 20-story trip down to the concrete would be.

The bath water had gone cold long ago. 

She sank beneath the surface again, weighed down by her heavy heart. 

He said ‘transport you,’ like she was a package. An empty box. 

That wasn’t far from the truth. She had felt empty since last night, when Peter told her, patronizingly, to ‘go to her room.’ It was insulting and infuriating, especially after they had just shared— 

Whatever that was.

What it was, she was humiliated by it. She didn’t know what madness came over her. But she’d never experienced—never even participated in—anything like it before. Never acted so fearlessly and intimately lewd in such an open manner. 

Not even during her marriage. 

Certain things were not permitted for her, masturbation was one of them. On the rare occasion that she was horny, there was only one place she was allowed to put that energy.

She refused to think about that further, for fear that she’d sink into the bathwater and choose not to resurface. 

Last night was different, in so many ways. There was something about the way Peter looked at her that made her feel powerful. Not merely that she was a goddess, but she was Aphrodite, Pele, Yemeya and Mother Mary combined. It made her feel alive. And when he started mirroring her motions—eyes possessed like a lovestruck zombie—it went from a dizzy, waking dream to the sexiest experience of her life. 

With that act, she opened herself up to him. And he reciprocated, with vulnerability in his eyes and devotion in his breath. It was like he worshiped her. 

Like he loved her.

It was a nice feeling. While it lasted. 

Whatever it was, it was clearly a mistake.

Now he’s transporting her somewhere. Back to the cabin? To another safe house? Is she in trouble? She never went anywhere without Peter by her side. Was he mad at her? Was he sending her away? Had he gotten what he wanted from her and decided—

“Once you’ve served your purpose, he’ll be on to the next one…”

Was he done with her, at last? Had he finally seen what he was wasting his energy on? She huffed, mouth beneath the surface. She probably wouldn’t be that lucky.

The car ride was tense. 

She was alone in the giant backseat of the SUV, surrounded by cold black leather and darkened windows. She felt like she was in a hearse. 

She could see out of the windows, but not the driver. The doors were also childlocked. She had tested them out until the disembodied voice of the driver, hidden on the other side of the partition wall, told her to stop it. 

It was a coffin. She was wearing Yves Saint Laurent to her funeral. 

Specifically, an Italian-made, viscose-and-silk minidress featuring an open scoop back, an asymmetrical hem, long sleeves and a crew neckline. It was sparkly and shimmery, but still edgy, featuring a black snakeskin-esque pattern.

The dress had been sealed in a garment bag and laid out on her bed when she emerged from the bathroom. 

It had been chosen for her. 

She wondered if the snakeskin pattern had any significance. 

The other cruel remark that Janet Van Dyne made wormed into her brain: “Step out of line, and he’ll take you out with the garbage.”

She felt sweat forming beneath her arms. A gnawing fear chewed at her that she would not only be discarded, but literally discarded. In the river. Or a landfill. Somewhere she would just disappear, easily forgotten, never to be found. It was a terrifying thought that Peter was more than capable of.

Perhaps that was a needless worry. Reason told her that Peter wouldn’t call her an Uber and send her off to be executed. 

“Because if I want something done, I do it myself.”

The vehicle slowed down, pulling off to the side of 74th Street. 

Her heart began to race. If he thought she was a snake, he’d kill her with his bare hands.

They were stopped in front of a small, unassuming store front with opaque windows. It reminded Honey of the tiny restaurant in The Godfather where Michael kills the rat who betrayed his family, along with the dirty cop that tried to murder his father. For some reason.

A modest banner hung outside the glass with the words ‘Sushi Ishikawa.’ 

A sushi bar? Were they hoping to murder her with a seafood allergy? 

The car door in front of her swung open, as Faceless Car Driver Number Eight glared down at her impatiently. 

“Get out of the car and go inside.”

Inside, the sushi bar was just as modest. It was a small, intimate place, with concrete floors and brick walls, and no more than eight seats in the whole restaurant. There was only one occupant. Peter jumped to his feet as soon as he saw her standing in the doorway.

Good god—he looked even more dashing than he did the last time she saw him. Although, by the end of that last encounter— with his hand in his boxers— she remembered him looking hotter than the Sun. 

He wore another monochromatic black outfit, this time a leather blazer, with a pinhead-pattern collared shirt, slim-fit trousers and a skinny tie. His hair was fashioned neatly, even more so than usual. The most eye-catching element of his appearance was that for the first time ever, she saw him without a beard.

The change was jarring to behold. Without facial hair he looked ten years younger. Maybe more, like he could still be in college. Clean-shaven, his appearance elevated to a whole new threat level. He looked boyish, the chiseled marble of his jawline now gloriously displayed without distraction. High cheekbones, sharp nose, pouty pink lips, caramel-colored eyes: he had the kind of beauty that a million teenage love songs were written about. 

Looking at him broke her heart. 

Astonishingly, he didn’t seem to notice that her eyes bugged out of her head, because his were doing the same. He wore a stupefied expression, as if he were gazing at a miracle. Mouth agape, he quickly glanced at her overall appearance. Not scandalously like in the past, but coyly, with a flustered face and rosy ears.

His response summed up the contents of his mind nicely. 

“Uh-uhm… hi.” 

The sentence was almost all air, similar to the contents of his skull. His voice was buried somewhere in his stomach. He punctuated the greeting with a nervous chuckle.

His amorous expression made fireworks erupt in her stomach. But as soon as her lips began to twist into a smile, her memories hammered it down. She went cold, dropping her eyes to the floor. 

Like his star had gone out, his life force faded almost instantly. 

“Miss, won’t you come in?” An unknown voice called from behind the bar. 

Peter turned towards two men wearing chef’s uniforms, a young man that looked to be in his 20s, along with his much older father. Their voices startled him, as he momentarily forgot that they’d be there. 

He had forgotten that Honey wasn’t the only person on the planet.

She stared at the sushi chefs curiously, then looked back at Peter, brows pinched together. 

“Uh, yeah,” Peter stuttered, his brain buffering. Cleared his throat. Politely, he pulled out one of the chairs at the bar, dipping his hand towards it in gentlemanly fashion. “Sorry, um, here. Please sit.”

She glared down at the empty chair, then slid her eyes over to him, suspicion etched onto her features. 

“Please.”

His earnest plea didn’t matter. It was obvious that she didn’t trust him. Why should she? They were a continent apart, with her close to the exit.

Her eyebrow raised high. “What is this?”

Peter had come to be familiar with all of her tones of voice. He recognized what her bratty voice sounded like, as well as her stubborn voice, and her grumpy voice. This wasn’t any of those. A hard edge had been carved into it. Sharpened with spite.

He gulped, shrinking at the anger buried in her tone. 

“Um…” he began timidly, “I, uh… I felt— Things, um— The last few days got blown to hell. And… I didn’t want you to-to think that I didn’t remember. Or that I didn’t want to remember, or that it wasn’t important to me, y’know. ‘Cos, it is. It really is. And this wasn’t exactly what I had planned, but I-I-I really wanted to get this right, and do something—“

“Fuck me!” she spat.

“Excuse me?” His eyes went wide.

“Is this the date, Peter?” she sneered hotly, jabbing her finger accusingly at the bar stool.

Silence. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“Now, hold up, jus-just give me a minute—”

“Why should I? Why should I give you anything?

“Just one! Just one minute—“

“I don’t have one minute to give you, Peter, because I’d rather eat glass than eat sushi with you.” She shot a glance over to the chefs in the corner of the room. “No offense.”

“Well,” Peter sheepishly replied, bringing his shoulders up to his ears, “they don’t have glass on the menu here—”

“Fine.” She said directly to the chefs, “I’ll have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, please. With extra peanuts.”

Peter glanced back and added, “Yeah, can we hold off on that order ‘til the end? We’re probably gonna take it to go—”

“I don’t believe this,” she growled, spinning on her heel and heading for the door. “Good night. I’m leaving.”

Just as she touched the pull handle, Peter was suddenly there with his hand wrapped around the bar—having teleported again in the blink of an eye. She scoffed with frustration, but she wasn’t surprised. All he had ever done was slam doors in her face.

“I’ll take you home,” he offered, his tone placating. She glared up at him impatiently. “I’ll drive you. I promise. I just need…” he sighed, wallowing in hopelessness. “Just give me one dinner. That’s all I’m askin’. If you’re still not havin’ it, then we’ll go home—”

“Fabulous! Then I can go back to my room.”

It was a painful jab for them both. He grimaced, snapping his eyes closed, as if she’d punched him in the gut. Observing his pained expression, she felt a sliver of guilt run through her, much to her agitation. 

Eyes downcast, he whispered with a heavy sigh. “I know I don’t deserve you, alright?” He pinched his lips, the corners of his mouth turned down. She blinked rapidly. “I know, I’m a jerk, and I’m nuts, and I-I should’ve treated you better. From the start, Honey. I know that.” 

Silently fuming, she glowered up at him. By contrast, his voice was mournfully soothing, with an ache in each word. A eulogy to the perfect relationship he’d hoped for.

Bourbon eyes fixed on her, heavy with shame, he pleaded, “I know I’ve got no right to ask. I’ve got nothin’ to say that you wanna hear. I don’t deserve to even talk to you. But in case you wanted to talk… even if it’s just to tell me what a shit person I am... I-I’m here. Alright? I’m here and I’m willing to listen. Whatever you wanna say.”

She noted the way his eyes glistened as he spoke, the hope welling up behind his lids and threatening to spill away. She softened her gaze. 

He sighed, “Please, Honey. You’re so kind, and you give so much, and I’m-I’m askin’ for just one more kindness. That’s it.”

She fixed a hard gaze on him, her brows pinched together, and her mouth as straight as an arrow. 

She hated seeing him heartbroken like that. She hated that she even cared about his heart.

She turned her attention to the chefs standing behind the bar, who were trying to politely ignore the heated quarrel that their only customers were engaged in. Having been in the service industry for a while herself, she sympathized with how awkward it must seem. And she didn’t want to give them the impression that she didn’t want to eat what they had to make.

“Fine. But only because I like sushi. Then I wanna leave. Got it?”

He nodded quickly. “Got it.” 

She flicked her eyes away and stomped over to the bar, plopping down in a seat that was intentionally one chair away from the one he’d pulled out for her. He bit his tongue at the slight, and trudged over to take the seat next to hers.

She committed to dinner begrudgingly, hoping for a single California roll and to be excused. This particular restaurant was different. There was no menu. No orders to be given. 

The elder sushi chef discussed in his native language the origin of omakase sushi. His son provided an English translation—“I leave it up to you.” In other words, the chefs didn’t take orders, instead they improvised a menu of their best seasonal offerings, and presented each bespoke course with artistry and flair. 

The first course of the omakase meal began with a nearly-frozen Kumamoto oyster for each of them, garnished with minced apple. It was delectable. She felt better overall with some kind of nourishment, considering that she skipped the other meals of the day. Her mood improved in just a few bites, albeit slight.

The younger chef then explained that there would be 22 courses in total. She wanted to stab Peter in the eye with a butter knife. Or a chopstick. 

As luck would have it, this restaurant encouraged them to eat with their hands as per tradition, so neither was available.

So she chewed, mostly in silence. By the time she was savoring the ninth course, Peter turned to her with a serious expression. “So where do you stand on wasabi?”

She licked the savory taste of bluefin tuna from her fingertips. “Is it a position on which one could stand?”

Gravely, he nodded. “Yes. A serious one.”

She gave it a few seconds of thought, then shrugged. “I don’t mind a little horseradish now and again. Not too much, though.”

“No, I said ‘wasabi' not ‘horseradish,’” he clarified.

“It’s the same thing.”

“What?”

“Yep.”

“No. Bullshit.”

“No, really. You don’t know this?”

“It’s a plant, a root! I think. Pretty sure.”

“You’re pretty wrong. All the wasabi in 99% of the sushi joints over here, most of the time, is horseradish paste with green food coloring. The real stuff is rare. It’s like $300 bucks a kilo.”

“A kilo?”

“Yeah, the real plants really only grow in Japan and they take years to cultivate—and I don’t know why they sell wasabi by the kilo, like it’s cocaine or something—ooh, future opportunity in case you want to diversify your portfolio— but horseradish is from the root and wasabi is from the stalk.” She licked her lips, pleased with the ease at which she plucked the information from her ever-growing library of useless stuff.

“Well,” Peter shrugged, understandingly, “the metric system is superior—”

“Ugh, don’t get me started,” she grumbled. They shared a soft chuckle, and she ended up blinded by his grin. 

She hated the way her heart fluttered at the sound of his laugh, compounded exponentially if she knew it was in response to one of her jokes. 

Hated the color of his eyes. Like caramel and chocolate. Maple syrup and whiskey. 

Hated his stupid face and his stupid hair. 

Hated the way he made her feel.

Hated how easy it was to fall into a conversation with him. Like they were old friends from grade-school, or lifelong neighbors who grew up next door to one another. She wondered what that life would’ve been like for her: if she’d met Peter in school, before either of their lives changed so drastically.

“How do you know so many state capitals?” Peter asked in awe, in between course fifteen and sixteen. At the same time, he poured a serving of cold sake into her wine glass.

“State birds too,” she explained, with a bit of pride. “And rocks.”

“States have state rocks?”

“Yup,” she said with a nod, taking a sip. 

She had spent most of the time spilling her vast knowledge about subjects most people didn’t care about. Peter cared. He looked at her reverently like she was Moses handing down the Ten Commandments. 

“I was really nerdy about maps as a kid,” she explained, while simultaneously picking up the sake bottle and filling his glass in return. “I would look at this big roadmap book I found in the garbage one day—you know, the old school spiral notebooks that AAA used to give to old people?—and I’d pick a number, and go to that page number, and decide that’s where I was going to live one day.”

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head with wonder. “You’re not gonna believe this,” he replied, cheeks sore from smiling. “But when I was like 9, I had a puzzle that May got from a garage sale, it was like a puzzle map of the United States. And one summer, I spent almost every day assembling and disassembling it. And I’d give the states personalities and proper names. And I’d make up these storylines with them. Like little soap operas, and act them out with the pieces.”

“You what?”

“For real,” he nodded. “Not even joking.”

“You had state dolls? And you’d act out little plays with them? Little land disputes?”

Taking a sip from his glass, he shrugged, considering it. “Yeah, I guess I did.” A grin warmed his face at the memory.

She hated how that smile lit up her whole life.

She giggled with delight at the picture of a young Peter Parker playing with cardboard state cutouts instead of little army men. “Wait, who was the bad guy? There’s always gotta be a bad guy.”

“Well,” Peter sobered, jestfully, “the South always has their issues, y’know? Drama queens, all of ‘em. But the real one you gotta watch out for is Idaho.”

She chortled so loudly that it startled the chefs. 

“God, you’re beautiful.” 

It was nineteen courses in. (She hated how good the food was.)

She blinked, taken aback by the intense sincerity of the comment. He was gazing at her with the same dopey look he wore when she walked in. Like she had the Milky Way in her eyes and he was determined to catalog every star.

Glancing away, she straightened uncomfortably in her chair. “Stop.”

He protested her dismissive tone with an undefeatable smile on his lips. “What? Why? Why you gotta argue with me about that?”

“Because you’re crazy. And you need therapy. Like 20, 25 years maybe. Maybe less, with intense journaling. Medication, too.”

He snorted with a grin, “Yeah, but that’s beside the point.” His eyes were fixed on hers again, drawing her gaze in like a magnet. Fine lines crinkled the corners of his eyes in the most flattering way. “I’m serious. You’re beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes with a bitter smile. “Flattery isn’t going to make this meal last any longer than it needs to.”

His grin faded a bit as he studied her further. Brows pinched, face contorted with puzzlement. “I don’t get it,” he mused. “How could you look in the mirror every day and not see what I see?”

She flicked her gaze to him briefly. His eyes twinkled as he observed her, his heart spilling out of them and onto his sleeves. She gulped hard. Lips formed a line, a wry edge to her words. “I’m not perfect, Peter.”

“I didn’t say ‘perfect’,” he replied. “I said ‘beautiful.’ Flaws and all.”

She hated the sincerity in his voice. 

“You ever think you’re just looking at me through rose-colored glasses?”

“No, I don’t think that.”

“Well, might want to get your eyes—“

“I don’t think that,” he doubled down, “because I’m in love with you.” 

Her mind locked up, like a car crash in her brain. 

Whipped her gaze over to his, eyes as wide as saucers. Perhaps she expected to see another sardonic smirk, or the beginning of a chuckle to confirm he was aware of his hyperbole. No such artificialness could be found in his enamored stare. Instead, he admired her—even more so in her dumbfounded state—studying her features with wonder. 

“No matter how hard I tried not to, I fell in love with you anyway,” he affirmed.

They were in a vacuum. Every sound in Manhattan vanished, save for the thrashing of her heart. She glanced away, the sensation burning into a sharp ache.

“You’re in love with the idea of me,” she said with a melancholy tone. “You love Honey. Not me.”

“Is that right?” Peter replied, too quickly to be an agreement. Frustration clawed through his tone. “That’s what you think? Okay. And what about you, huh?” He pinned her with his scrutinizing stare. “Which version of me are you in love with?”

Her pulse tripped at the accusation. Honey glanced away, eyeing her glass of water anxiously. She could feel his gaze on her, waiting patiently for a reply. Her tongue was twisted up in her mouth. 

“Maybe I’m wrong,” he said, mournful. “Maybe I do need a shrink.” He was thoughtful and analytic, perhaps speaking more to himself than to her. “I gotta be doin’ somethin’ wrong here. All the people who matter the most to me are the ones who think the least of themselves.”

A shadow fell over his expression, like a solar eclipse. Immediately, she found herself missing the sunlight.

After bidding fond goodbyes and leaving a generous tip, Peter held the door open for Honey as they stepped out into the night air. She glanced around expecting to see a blacked-out SUV idling off the curb, but only saw an empty street. She crossed her arms, anticipating that Peter was up to something.

“Where’s the car?” She questioned, a brow raised.

“Oh yeah,” Peter pointed at the unoccupied curb, as if he’d forgotten something. “I sent them home. I drove here. Valeted around the corner.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Uh-huh.”

“I figured I could just drive us back myself.”

“Uh-huh.” She gave him a scrutinizing stare, unsatisfied with his answer, with just the slightest upward curve of her lip.

Placatingly, he touched his shoulders to his ears. “No-No, I know,” he nodded, agreeing with whatever it was she was saying with her eyes. “We’re gonna go home right now. Just gotta walk around the corner.”

She narrowed her gaze. He brought a hand up to the back of his neck, rubbing it idly. “Unless,” he added, with a devious look, “you want to hang out a little later?”

There it was. She pursed her lips together, pretending there wasn't a smile there. “Dinner is already over, Peter.”

“I know it is.”

“You said you’d take me home after dinner. That was the deal—”

He argued, failing at sounding casual, “And I will! I just, y’know, wondered if you, um… wanted to finish off dinner with… like, somethin’-somethin’ extra, y’know? In case, y’know we get hungry later? Like an after-dinner appetizer? Or a-a chaser? Somethin’ to aid the digestive process?”

She scoffed with a hearty laugh. “Oh? Did a new craft-antacid gastropub open somewhere?”

He beamed at her warmly, biting the soft flesh of his lip. “Even better.”

“What are you up to?”

He pocketed his hands in his jacket, gazing down at her excitedly. “It’s a surprise,” he grinned with a smile that should be criminal. “You in?”

This was stupid. She was stupid. She should not be this giddy about something so silly. But as her astonished gaze flicked between Peter Parker and Michael Jordan, ‘giddy’ was the only appropriate word.

They were standing in the back of an arcade. A 'barcade,' rather. The enormous space felt electric. Like a playground for the inner child, buzzing with the sounds of bells, buzzers, and blasters. Of laughter, and virtual engines revving, and of a high-intensity K-pop soundtrack over on the Dance, Dance Revolution platforms. 

It was a mix of classic video game cabinets, like Galaga, Pac-Man, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, as well as carnival-style games, like Cyclone and Skee-Ball, and pinball machines for every metal band of the 80s. 

The highlight for Honey was where they were standing. She looked up in awe at a 2-player Extreme Shot basketball station, decorated with buzzing lights, an electronic scoreboard, and Looney Tunes characters. The one and only Space Jam-themed game she had ever seen.

She couldn’t tell if the bells and whistles were coming from elsewhere or the inside of her chest.

“Peter, this is…I-I—” she breathed slowly, her heart swelling. Eyes brimming with tears. “I hate this. I hate you. I hate you so much. This is the greatest moment of my adult life. I love everything about this!”

Peter nodded, amused, “That’s pretty much the reaction I was expecting.” 

With big wet eyes, she looked up at him like a child at Christmas. Pure joy. It was like looking straight into the Sun. Her joy was too bright to look at without feeling like he would melt. Inexplicably, her face prompted a giggle that broke out of his lips. An unusual sound unheard in over a decade. He glanced away, shaking his head with cheeks flushed. 

“You wanna play?” He reached into the netted bin and lifted out a basketball. “One-on-one?”

Mouth still slightly agape, she looked down at the ball, then back to him. “That depends. Are you ready to be humiliated in front of all of these people?”

He barked out a laugh. “Humiliated? Wow! We’re trash-talkin’ now? Is’at where we’re at?” A light airiness elevated them, one that shaved decades off of their lives and painful scars off their memories. “Okay, that’s how it is?”

“That’s how it is,” she affirmed, reaching for her own basketball. She kicked off her pumps next to the arcade cabinet, dropping four inches like it was a useless advantage to have. She padded over with bare feet on the cold concrete floor. 

“Oh, wow. This is—this is serious?” He palmed the basketball, spinning it in his grip. “Now I’m worried. You’re... very confident. How ‘bout we raise the stakes, then? Wanna play for somethin’?”

She paused, throwing him another suspicious look. “Where is this going? You know I’m not your Sugar Mama, right? Can’t keep funding all your little expensive shopping sprees.”

He gasped, feigning a scandalized face, “Rude. That’s… that’s rude!”

A giddy laugh burst from her lips. “Okay, then what?”

He hesitated, his confidence faltering for a moment. Biting his lip, he glanced over at her with doe eyes and pink cheeks. “Your hand.”

Her eyes widened. “My hand?” She repeated, harsh judgment in her tone. “What-What’s that supposed to mean? My hand in marriage?”

Peter gasped. His brows shot up instantly, then he pinched them together. “Ohhhh man.” He brought his fingertips up to his lips, looking down at her with pity. “I was just talking about you giving me a hand with the dishes—?”

She snickered like a child, smacking him on the shoulder playfully. “Stop—!”

“—Aww, this must be so embarrassing for you!”

“You menace!” 

They broke into a fit of laughter, eyes crinkled, bodies doubled over. The landscape around them shifted and cracked, huge chunks of ice thawing in the spring sun.

“I mean, now that you mention it...” He spoke with a more sober tone. Slyly, his eyes slid over to hers. Cavalier and cool in his demeanor, Peter shrugged, but failed to withhold his excitement. “That’s actually not such a bad idea, y’know?” 

With a wily smirk, he fixed a burning gaze on her. It was all a ruse. It would take an elaborate deception to pretend that he hadn’t been dreaming of marrying her. Perhaps even from the very first day they met and she told him to have a good day. 

Buried beneath the cocky facade, there was a sincere question that echoed from his gaze. The fearsome king of New York’s underground blushed nervously in front of her, with soft, boyish eyes that were too vulnerable and too tarnished by tragedy. And yet, there was a glimmer of hope in them. A diamond in the darkness.

She saw that look, and she felt faint because of it. Weak in the knees, stomach fluttering as if a bouquet of roses bloomed in her belly. Helplessly, she stared back at him with the same mix of fear and longing. She held her lips closed.

Spotting her hesitation, he lowered his eyes, swallowing a frown. Then, his tone brightened. “How ‘bout this,” he conceded, more casually. “If I win, you’ll let me hold your hand.”

She blinked at him in disbelief. “You wanna hold my hand?” 

Her tone sounded much more critical than she intended. The sharpness of it cut a nick into his confidence. He faltered for a moment, avoiding the instinct to flail as he sank further into the depths. 

Instead, he held his breath. Pressed his lips together and nodded with a gentle smile. “For as long as you’ll let me.”

She stared blankly, dizzy with swirling emotions. One moment she wanted to kiss him, the next she wanted to kill him in his sleep. It was astonishing how one man could invoke such opposite emotions.  But as easy as it was to fall in love with the light of his gaze, she recalled the cool chill of the dark cavern within.

Her smile faded a bit. “If I win, I get space.”

“Space?”

“To be my own person,” she declared with resolve. “In my own home. On my own. No cameras. No creepy guards lurking in the halls.” She glanced away, adding delicately. “My own bed.”

Peter raised his chin, gazing down at her with a softened look. He remembered Felicia’s words about what he had taken away from her while trying to offer her the world. 

Solemnly, he nodded. He agreed to the terms, a bittersweet half-smile on his lips. “You’re on.” 

The first game was a fluke. They made it two out of three. Then three out of five. Then four of seven. Best of nine. And by the tenth straight loss, the streak needed to come to an end at some point. 

Peter offered her a respectful handshake as consolation. Tried not to smile at the sourpuss frown. Failed to not smirk at her accusations that he cheated. Denied rigging the game somehow. Denied that he actually owned the game and the arcade, and that all of its patrons were actors. 

He tried with difficulty not to laugh as she scowled and pouted and crossed her arms, glaring up at him like an angry cat left out in the rain. He remained reserved with his hand outstretched, waiting for their contest to end amicably.

He waited for her. For years, he waited. Until she slipped her tiny hand into his, firmly returning the handshake. 

Before she could take her hand back, he tugged her close, until their mouths were inches apart. Until they breathed the same air, and were oblivious to the bar atmosphere around them. Until all she could see was him, and even that was a struggle between his heavenly eyes and his sinful mouth. A glowing ember gaze, burning with passion for one another.

“Ready to go home now?” he asked, wearing a half-smile that infuriated and enraptured her. “Or can I get you a drink?”

They spent the next hour and a half flirting like teenagers. Joking like old friends. It made her feel normal, made him seem normal. Like the insanity of their lives had never really happened. Or if it did, it was all going to be okay now. 

They blended in effortlessly with the rowdy crowd of twenty-and-thirty-something’s occupying the bar. But first—he had to get rid of that tie, she told him, untying the knot with a cheeky grin. He fought vertigo as he felt the warmth of her fingertips undoing one of his top buttons next. 

They battled against invading aliens, other Formula 1 drivers, and The Foot. Surprisingly, they made a good team. They picked out a lineup of their favorite songs on the jukebox, who knew they both were once Jonatics? 

Every new piece of information added to an intricate jigsaw puzzle, the final picture ever-changing. Until it was—and by extension, they were—unrecognizable. Indistinguishable from the sort of person they would both want to spend the rest of their lives with. 

For a few brief shining moments, they had forgotten who they were supposed to be, and what they had lost.

Not every habit vanished. Peter still crowded up against Honey’s back as she sidled belly up to the bar. No part of him touched her, but his hands locked to the counter surface on either side of her, making her feel like she was in a cage. She looked up at him to see a hardened jaw. He was distracted, glaring defensively at the walls of humans closing in on them, while simultaneously eyeing the exits.

She only then noticed how much he was struggling to remain calm in this situation. It wasn’t a cage he had built, but a shield. His agitation and intensity wasn’t about possession, but protection. Her heart ached at the sight. It warmed at the sight. It reminded her that no—they were not like everybody else. They had both suffered horrific circumstances and would always bear the scars of them.

Regardless, they had both survived.

The gentle touch of her hand covering his stirred him from his hypervigilance. He snapped back to the present, looking down at her fingers as they intertwined with his. The color returned to his white knuckles as they relaxed in her hold. 

He focused on the warmth of her skin, the smoothness of it, how incredibly soft she was, as well as the steady beating of her heart. Knots loosening, his muscles relaxed as she leaned her body heat into his chest. Gentle humid breaths brushed across her collarbone. He breathed her in, deeply inhaling her perfume, her scent, her shampoo, and the hint of hoppy bitterness on her left on her tongue. The simple action ached, like he had been drowning for years and he finally took a full breath. 

He didn’t even hear the bartender prompt them for their next round. Luckily, she was capable of speech and handled it for the both of them. She could’ve ordered the whole bar and he wouldn’t have cared. He was too busy staring at the nape of her neck, the roundness of her shoulders, the delicate ridge of her spine. The feeling of her bare skin against his chest. He wanted to tear apart the fabric that separated them. His swelling heart threatened to burst out of his ribcage.

For a moment, Peter Parker found peace.

“Salud!" she grinned. She had turned around and was handing him a perspiring pint glass. She smirked at him over the rim, locking eyes as she clinked her drink to his. Enamored, his whiskey eyes lingered on hers, before being mesmerized by the cupid’s bow of her lips. 

“Ahh!” she suddenly gasped, as her body jolted forward. The spell was broken at the sound of her alarm. 

Peter glared over her shoulder and shot a death-stare at the two men standing next to them. Red-faced and inebriated, one of them was recovering from a tipsy stumble. The drunk man spun around, looking down with horror at the woman he’d nearly knocked over. 

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry—”

Peter pushed himself between her and her drunk attacker in an instant. She straightened and he spun to face her. Eyebrows pinched, lip curled, blood beginning to boil, his eyes searched her figure for injury. He was in a frenzied state of near-panic, as if he expected to find a gunshot wound.

“I’m okay, it’s okay,” she laughed. 

She laughed.

Peter blinked to see her examining the wet fabric of the front of her dress. Her beer had sloshed out of her glass and soaked the front. Despite the gooseflesh that broke out from the cold liquid, she wore an amused grin on her face.

“Fuck, I am so sorry!” the drunk dead man slurred. “I just—shit, lemme get you some towels—”

Peter turned his head, glaring daggers at the two men, eyes black as coal. He wasn’t just staring at two drunk guys in a bar. He was staring at Danny Rand’s bodyguards at the club. Wilson Fisk’s henchmen in the auto body shop. Flash Thompson’s teammates in the high school locker room. 

“No, no, really—I’m okay!”

He heard her voice somewhere in the back of his head. Her light tone didn’t match with the sirens ringing in his brain. “Look at me, it’s fine,” she chuckled somewhere in the distance. 

Her hand cupped the side of his face, smoothing over his clenched jaw. He flinched at the contact, a gasp catching in his throat. Peter was looking at her now, studying her concerned gaze and the half-smile still on her lips. He raised an eyebrow at her amusement.

“It was an accident,” she murmured, to the group, but more to him. “We’re okay. Don’t worry about it.”

Blinking rapidly, he leveled her with a confused look. Displaced. As if he had fallen asleep and now was awake in a different location. She took his hand and he was being pulled through the crowd away from the bar and the stuttering apologies of the Drunk Bros. He was in a daze, being guided gently until they came to stop in a dull corner of the arcade.

“Hey,” she said, searching his face with concern. “Look at me. Are you okay?”

His tongue twisted in his mouth. “Wha—you... I... I didn’t, uhh, but—”

She stood up on her toes, pulling his face down, and brushed a gentle, soothing kiss at the corner of his mouth. His brain told him that he was flying, fainting and flailing in an icy river—all at the same time.

“It’s okay, Peter,” she whispered, rubbing the nape of his neck. The feeling of her fingertips made him prickle all over. “You with me?”

The fog was slowly lifting from his brain, his cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment. “I... I didn’t...”

“You did okay,” she whispered, combing her fingers through his hair and sending goosebumps down his spine. “I’m okay. We’re safe.”

He let go of a tense breath as her words sank into his cerebrum, relieving a pulsating ache that had started less than 60 seconds ago. For once, both voices in his head were blessedly silent. Closing his eyes, his neck craned forward, touching his forehead to hers. 

“We can go home now,” she softly replied. “I think I’ve had enough to drink anyway.”

Eyes closed, he nodded. Deep breaths. In and out. 

“Look, just give me a minute, I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick,” she coaxed, straightening her back. “We’ll go home right after, okay?” 

He looked up at her, a line formed between his eyebrows. He didn’t have to speak a word for her to read his mind.

“I’ll just be one minute,” she said, backing him towards a wall. “Just wanna clean this up so I’m not so sticky, okay?” Her voice was as melodic and soft as a song. His heart pounded away until her hand came up and rested gently over it. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered with a curved lower lip. “I promise.”

The blood was still returning to his lungs, adrenaline dissipating. After a deep breath, he pursed his lips, nodding at her. Not as approval, but as reassurance that he would be okay. 

She held her gaze on his for several moments, melting his brain even further. If she didn’t leave soon, he’d be runny eggs dripping down the wall. She grinned sweetly, and rounded around him, skipping towards the restroom. His eyes followed her until she disappeared.

Honey felt her heart fluttering as she came to a stop inside the bathroom. Compared to the ruckus outside it was like a sanctuary. She took a deep breath as she gazed in the mirror. That was a close call. That was scary, in fact. So why could she not wipe the stupid smile off her face? 

She smiled like a schoolgirl. Grinned like a fool. She winced at the sticky sensation on her chest, but also sighed at the butterfly wings beneath her sternum. This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. Why was—

The partition door behind her swung open. Reflexively, her eyes flicked up to the figure emerging, expecting a feminine form. She was wrong. Her smile faded. Her color drained. Terror overtook her features. 

John Walker stalked up behind her. She opened her mouth to scream. 

She didn’t get the chance.

Continue to Part 15

[back to masterlist]

a/n hello! next part is already written and will be up once I have a chance to edit. it's going to be really, really painful. :-) like so much pain.

Thanks so much to all of you that have showed me your support, including your thoughtful comments and generous reblogs. Don't forget to reblog your fav fic writers, just to give them a boost.

To be added to the taglist for this series, you must reblog!

[whump-a-la-mode]

Nemesis - Part 7

At what point does a story go from being a Whump fic to being a weird mystery short story? I’m not sure, but I really feel like I’m toeing the line here. For more directly whumpy stuff, check out my Villainsicle or Signal series ^^

Votes were tied this time around, and I ended up making the final call, as I felt there was better argument given for it. Thus, Villain chooses option B: Don’t trust Hero, attempt escape. Thanks to everyone who voted!

CW//Drugged whumpee, confusion, panic, injuries, ransom notes, kidnapping, death threats, restraints

There was a haunting quality to Villain’s eyes, in the way they looked at Hero.

For the briefest moment, Hero felt to be something beyond reality-- a deity, a ghost, something that should not have been able to be seen. That was the way in which Villain regarded them.

Their hand gripped Hero’s, fingers grasping as tightly as they could manage which trembling and twitching.

Hero felt that they should say something, do something. Some kind of witty one-liner, some great speech. But they found their mouth devoid of words, and thus, they only smiled.

Villain frowned. Their eyes widened.

The brief moment of peace the two had shared was shattered in a moment. For a second, Villain seemed to forget how their limbs were meant to work, instead flailing across the closet, slamming their back into the wall. Shaking hands struggled with the knot behind their head, finally succeeding in freeing it and tossing the gag across the room.

They panted, wide, unblinking eyes staring at the floor. Mouth the slightest bit open-- lip trembling.

Before Hero could think, however, they were already moving again. Terrified gaze lifting to Hero, before their body seemed to respond, moving into the best defensive pose they could manage, fingers digging into the blankets below. Shaking lips pulling back to reveal bared teeth, brows furrowing.

“You... Hero...”

“Yes.” Hero did their best to keep their voice calm, level, hoping to inspire the same within Villain. “Yes, it’s me.”

Their attempts were in vain. Villain’s voice shook terribly:

“Why are you doing this to me? I- I thought we- I thought you- I want to go home!”

Hero could feel their own throat quaking, though for an entirely different reason.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s-”

“I didn’t want to see the stupid fucking thing anyways! I wasn’t even looking for it! I just want to go, please, please, I need to go! I want to go home!”

There was no time for Hero to answer with words-- with a speed that startled them enough to knock them onto their back, Villain launched themself from the closet, struggling to their feet and lurching unsteadily across the dorm.

Hero leapt to their feet in turn, attempting to chase their nemesis, only for their path to be cut off by a flying Teammate. Their faster cohort landed atop the fleeing Villain, pinning their shoulders down and quickly restraining their legs in similar fashion. At the same time, Villain cried out, pleas muffled by the carpet.

It was a pathetic display, enough so that Hero felt a pit form in their stomach. But Villain wasn’t in their right mind-- this was for their own good.

That was what Head Doctor had thought, too.

But this was different.

They expected Villain’s struggles to quickly die down, but such did not come to pass; instead, their kicking grew more and more panicked, more desperate, as though they were drowning. A desperate search for air.

Physicality-wise, there was no contest between Villain and Teammate, sedatives or not. They had no difficulty holding them down. Hero began to inch closer, ready to once again attempt to calm their nemesis into sleep. That was what they needed, right now. Rest. Recovery.

Unfortunately, Villain did not seem to agree.

Hero only made it a step or two before Teammate was screaming-- a sound accompanied by their body, flung across the room like a ragdoll, leaving behind a sizable hole in the plaster.

The pit in Hero’s stomach quickly filled with a horrible chill.

How could they have forgot-

They had no time to finish their thought, the rain of telekinetically-thrown objects taking their attention instead. A mug struck them in the back, breaking and erupting a hiss from their lips. They shook their head, trying to bring their attention back, but Villain already had all the distraction they needed.

After a few flailing attempts, they got their feet underneath them, bolting forth. Hero lurched after them, but their nemesis had too much of a head start. They were too fast, too scared, too goddamn clever.

Villain flung open the door, skidding to a stop with such force that they fell backwards.

“Hero?”

Hero’s heart sunk. Could Leader have picked a worse time to come back?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Leader was not the type of person for hugs. They were far too prickly for that, refusing to let anyone get too close, in the physical sense or otherwise.

This, however, must have been an exception. Hero could hardly breathe as their team leader wrapped their arms around them, practically squeezing the air out of them. From behind the display, Teammate’s jaw dropped.

“You have no idea how worried I was!” Leader spoke, exasperated, not releasing their grip.

“Worried?” Hero gasped. “I can’t- I can’t breathe.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Leader released them, backing off a step.

Hero made a quick check of the office; Leader’s office, where they had ushered them to. Specifically, they glanced to the corner where Villain sat. After their telekinetic stunt, they had quickly tired out, leaving them covered with a blanket and muttering, leaned up against the wall.

“Of course I was worried about you!” Leader continued. “We all were. Everyone is out there, right now, looking for you. You could have called, or texted, or anything! Oh, god, Hero, I was worried sick.”

“L-Looking for me?” Hero questioned again. “I was only gone one night.”

“And thank goodness for that.” Leader moved to their desk. “Let’s take a seat. I think you have a lot to explain.”

They nodded, and sat opposite the team leader. Teammate quickly joined them in an adjacent seat.

“So...” Leader hummed. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“What?”

“I want to know what happened.”

“I just left for the night.” Hero raised a brow. “I do that all the time.”

Leader blinked.

“Well, usually, you aren’t being kidnapped?”

“Kidnapped?”

“You weren’t?”

“No? Why would I be kidnapped? What- Leader, what is going on with you?”

“What is going on with you?”

“I wasn’t kidnapped.”

Another confused blink. Leader dug in a pocket, producing their phone. They tapped around it a moment before sliding it across the desk.

Hero picked it up. A picture. A screenshot of an email.

An email without a sender.

“Dear Citizens,

I must say, it is impressive how dedicated your protectors were at their attempts at so-called ‘reform.’ More impressively, they managed to hold me for a year. I sure hope you have not forgotten me.

But, citizens, at long last, I am returning to be among you. And I wanted to have a welcome party, of sorts. Call it a game of hide and seek, if you will. Except, you will not only be looking for me.

One of your protectors, the one by the name of Hero, is currently in my custody. They are safe, for now, but whether or not they stay that way is entirely up to you.

You say you have eyes on the whole city? Let’s test that.

Of course, I want to give you a fair chance, just as you gave me. You kept me contained for 375 days. Thus, you have exactly 375 minutes to save your Hero. That’s just over six hours.

Fair, isn’t it? Just as fair as being locked up for a year of your life.

Your time starts now. I hope you will be quick, I have heard that drowning is a terrible way to die.

Sincerely, your dearest Villain”

Hero’s gritted teeth trembled.

“You escaped?” Leader guessed, taking their phone back.

“No.” Hero shook their head. “I was never kidnapped at all! Where is this from? This message?”

“It was sent out to every member of Organization. Just over... Just over 7 hours ago.”

Hero’s mouth gaped.

“You thought I was...”

“Dead, yes. They...” Leader’s gaze drifted to the corner, where Villain had begun to snore. “They didn’t write this, did they?”

“No. No, there’s no way.”

“How are you so sure?”

“They were with me the whole time, asleep.”

“They were with you?”

Hero nodded.

They wanted, so badly, to speak freely. To let spill every word they had been holding back, every detail of Villain’s captivity, of Head Doctor, of their rescue mission. But once they let that out of the bag, they couldn’t take it back. They knew that.

They had to wait. They had to be sure.

“What happened to them? Did they just, suddenly become your friend?”

“No. No, it’s not that. They’re not... not themself, right now.”

“You drugged them?”

“Well, it wasn’t me.”

Leader let out a pointed sigh.

“What are we going to do...” They placed their head in their hands. “Oh god, what are we going to do?”

“I-” Hero glanced again to their sleeping nemesis. “I assume they’ll be taken to the prison.”

“No.” Leader shook their head.

“No?”

“They’ll only go to the prison if we report this.”

Hero’s eyes widened. A look to Teammate revealed that their face held the same expression.

“You aren’t going to report this?”

Leader’s fingers drummed on their desk.

“Okay. Here, here’s what we’re going to do.” They breathed. “There’s no way we can hide you, and I don’t really see the point in it. I’ll tell everyone that you’re okay, that you escaped. As for Villain... We have a spare room.”

“I don’t understand.” Hero shook their head, dumbfounded. “We’re hiding Villain?”

“What, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I mean, yes, but, I didn’t expect you to agree.”

Leader chewed the side of their cheek.

“Hero, I trust you. Teammate, you too. And Villain... I guess I don’t view them as a threat, at the very least. But beyond that? I don’t know who I can trust, right now. So we keep this between us. Until....”

“Until?”

“Until... I don’t know. Until I know what to do next.” They cast their gaze downwards. “Hero?”

“Mhm?”

“I knew. I knew Villain hadn’t kidnapped you.”

“I thought you said you thought I was dead?”

“I did. But not by Villain’s hand.”

“Then...”

Leader looked upwards, gaze seeming to stare through Hero. A somber gaze. An exhausted one.

“Hero, I talk to Director a lot. Never in person, never over the phone. But we write. We email, or, I mean, sometimes, they even send letters. They’re old-fashioned, like that.”

“What-”

“Let me finish. When you talk to someone that often, you get to know their style. The way they string their words together, the words they use. That email...” They bit their lip. “Villain did not write that email.”

“You thought that Director...”

Hero did not need to finish their sentence. Leader nodded, and they understood.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Whatever heating system controlled the floor, it must not have reached this room.

The thought came to Hero’s head as they wrapped a blanket around their shoulders, fighting back a shiver. They looked up, glad, at least, to see that Villain seemed to be comfortable in their pile of fabric. There were only so many blankets, and they needed them more.

The spare room was exactly as it sounded, an empty room without purpose. Barren of furniture, barren of everything except a thin carpet. And, now, a stake, hammered into the wall. Holding a chain that ended at Villain’s ankle.

The very thought of restraining them so made Hero feel awfully queasy, but out of everything, it was the only thing they could not argue Leader down from. Without knowledge of Villain’s current state, they still believed them to be dangerous.

Hero had been entrusted with ensuring that they stayed restrained. For a brief moment, they had considered an act of malicious compliance. Using a tiny, thin chain, or not connecting it to anything, or anything that would allow Villain to leave. To not truly chain them.

But... in some small part, they couldn’t help but agree with Leader. Villain was dangerous. Not because they wanted to be, but because they were scared. Confused. Awake.

Awake.

Villain was awake.

They raised their head, shifting the mountain of blankets in which they were wrapped. That confused, hazy look remained in their gaze for a moment-- before being replaced by another expression, one that made Hero’s heart skip a beat.

“Please!” The captive screamed. “Please! I’m trying, I’m trying, I want to go home. Please. Please don’t hurt me! No, no!”

The blankets around them restrained them for a minuscule moment, but they soon tore through the layers of fabric, throwing them about. 

The shackle stopped them quickly, sending them collapsing to hands and knees only a moment after they had managed to stand. they stayed like that, limbs shaking, fingertips growing blue from cold.

Holding them down would only terrify them more. Hero had learned that the hard way, and now Teammate had a nasty bruise to show for it.

No. Hero needed to do something they did not often do: They needed to be careful. Gentle.

Slowly, they crawled forward, stopping only next to their terrified nemesis. They placed a gentle hand on one of Villain’s, bringing it off the ground, encouraging them to sit down until they did so. Though their trembling was certainly derived from fear, they too seemed to be rapidly growing cold. Hero took one of the thicker blankets, draping it over their shoulders.

“Hey. Hey, Villain.”

“Please please please please.” They slurred under their breath.

“Villain? We’re friends now, okay? We’re friends.”

“No no no no no no.”

“You’re safe. You’re okay. You’re going to wake up, now. No one is going to make you go back to sleep. You’re waking up. It’s going to take a minute, okay? But I’ll be here the whole time.”

“Waking up...”

“Yeah. I know you’re confused right now, and scared. And that’s okay. But if you just relax, and let me help you, you’re going to be okay. You’re going to feel like yourself soon. It’s just going to take time. Until then, just let me take care of everything.”

“Take care of me...”

“Yeah. Yeah. How are you feeling? Do you want some water?”

Villain frowned.

“I lied...”

“What?”

“I lied. I lied. I lied. I am going to tell Hero. I lied.”

“Villain? Hey, hey. It’s okay. Look at me. Stay with me.”

“Director. Director. I know who you are. I lied. I am going to tell Hero.”

Hero gulped.

“I’m going to get you some water, Villain. Stay here, please. I’ll be right back.”

“Please please please please please please please ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ...”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Go right to the source. Confront Director - What should Hero’s plan be?

B.) It’s too risky. Talk to someone else. - Who should Hero speak to? (Hacker, Leader, another member of Organization, etc)

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 255: "Hospital”

Previously on BnHA: Aizawa and Present Mic found out their dead best friend Shirakumo was necromanced by All for One and Ujiko and turned into everyone’s favorite villain mom bartender M.D., Kurogiri! Gran Torino and Naomasa were all “hey you guys should talk to him and see if you can restore his memories through the power of friendship” and so they all sat down together to do that. Kurogiri was all “so tell me how is my son Shigaraki Tomura, I love him so much, he is so emo and I must protect him” and Aizawa and Mic were all “THIS GUY HASN’T CHANGED ONE IOTA” and Aizawa started crying and was all “SHIRAKUMO LET’S GET MARRIED AGAIN AND BE HEROES TOGETHER LIKE WE ALWAYS WANTED.” Oh and also we found out Aizawa only fake expelled his previous students and it was just so that he could PREPARE THEM FOR LIFE!! and afterwards they got to go back to U.A. again and live happily ever after. And so basically I’ve lost track of how many hugs Aizawa needs here now but it’s a lot.

Today on BnHA: Shiraguri’s brainwaves start going all wonky and everyone is like “OH SHIT IT’S WORKING” and Aizawa and Mic decide it’s time to shift this drama into overdrive, so they get right up against the glass and start shouting “YOU’RE OUR FRIEND!!” and stuff over and over until IT FINALLY WORKS!! and Kurogiri’s face shifts into Shirakumo’s. Somehow the effect is incredibly sad and moving rather than terrifying as fuck, but unfortunately all Kumo can manage to get out is “hospital” before his mind overloads and he passes out. Fortunately for our heroes, “hospital” is actually an awesome clue which can totally lead them to Tomura and Ujiko’s location if they play their cards right, probably! Or at least Hawks seems really psyched about it, idk. Anyway so the chapter ends with Ujiko going FULL MAD SCIENTIST and wreaking havoc on Tomura’s body in order to -- I’m pretty sure, anyway -- turn him into some kind of fully sentient ultimate high end Noumu. Welllllll shit.

so that sure was a fun little wrinkle last week, huh. the two biggest scanlators deciding that in the spirit of the holidays, they were going to stop translating WSJ series and instead support the official releases out of the goodness of their hearts and definitely not at all because Shueisha was eyeing them threateningly and making little throat-slitting gestures. that was a ride. these are interesting times lol

but at any rate, if this is how it’s going to be for now then I’ll adjust! it is nice to have everyone support the official release, and obviously the image quality is way better, and Caleb’s translations are by and large pretty good. and obviously we’ll get used to reading the chapter on Sundays instead of Fridays (hell, I remember when the SJ leaks still came out on Wednesdays, so it’s not like we haven’t done this same old song and dance before lol). but Friday did happen to be a more convenient day for my schedule personally, so it might take a bit of adjusting for me to figure out what my posting schedule is going to be moving forward

anyways so I’m sorry this recap is so ridiculously late, but here we go at last!

so the Tartarus guard, who by the way is very clearly Seiji’s dad (WHEN ARE THE SHIKETSU KIDS COMING BACK), is tapping frantically at his touch screen even though it’s not doing anything, and he says he’s detecting unusual brainwaves. omg

WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK IT MEANS, OBVIOUSLY THEY UNLOCKED THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP, MAN! THEY DID IT

omfg. the guard just says “he’s agitated.” I’m going to need you to have more hype than that my good sir. please

holy shit Nao

attention everyone, HAS ANYONE SEEN NAOMASA’S FUCKING CHILL, BECAUSE HE SEEMS TO HAVE FUCKING MISPLACED THAT SHIT. someone please explain to this man that there is a time and a place to play good cop bad cop and this is not it. “oh, Shirakumo is starting to recover his memories? well then [busts into the prison cell and grabs him by the collar and slams him against the wall] WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR!?”

(ETA: so apparently Nao’s detective instincts are cleverer than mine. he saw that Kumo was potentially going to emerge, but probably not for long, so he gave him the most important question so he could focus on answering that. good job! still not a lot of chill but hey.)

meanwhile Aizawa is all “if what they said is true I’m looking at my friend’s corpse”, while still crying by the way, and yeah, so MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE. this year Santa decided to change it up and just make everyone real sad. happy holidays

lord he’s leaping to his feet and shouting “WHO DID THIS TO YOU”

meanwhile I can’t stop staring at Present Mic with his tongue sticking out. why are you sticking your tongue out. why are anime characters like this. you know, Stain also used to stick his tongue out. Present Mic U.A. traitor confirmed

also!! so many people have beef with Ujiko, though! pretty soon they will have to take a number and get in line

oh no Kumogiri is malfunctioning

Aizawa’s all “ANSWER ME SHIRAKUMO” and OH MY GOD LOOK AT THIS

I HAVE NEVER SEEN AIZAWA SHOUTA SO INTENSE AND I CAN’T TEAR MY EYES AWAY FROM THE SCREEN AHHHHH

so there’s some more of “WE WANTED TO BE HEROES TOGETHER” and “YOUR NAME IS SHIRAKUMO OBORO” and all of that other “SNAP OUT OF IT ALREADY” stuff, and you’re damn right I am eating ALL THAT SHIT right up, hell yes. IT’S A TROPE FOR A REASON PEOPLE

oh my god

bwo...hh...?

(ETA: I feel like I should explain that although I have a subscription to Viz, I really hate how their chapter viewer is set up, so I read the chapter on one of the vertical scroll-to-read sites instead. I prefer scroll-to-read for a lot of reasons, but the biggest one is so that I can read the chapter slowly (since I’m writing as I go) without spoiling what’s in the next panel. that being said, this next page is one of the few where Viz obviously got it right, so I’ll be posting the full image.)

SDFLSDLFKHSDLKJGOISDJFOSK

（┐° o °  ┐） ( ｣｡╹o╹｡)｣

feelingsfeelingsfeelingsFEELINGS

(ETA: on a reread I am fascinated by the fact that that bandage on his nose actually seems to be A PERMANENT PART OF HIS FACE APPARENTLY lol what.)

READ THE FUCKING ROOM, DUDE. also look how tiny Gran Torino is. he thought we wouldn’t notice through all of our tears. but we did. would you like me to fetch you a box

ha ha ha so now back to the drama

heh so anyway, the fact that this smoke Shirakumo face still looks like a child is straight up destroying me. how are you guys. how is everyone. feliz navidad

FKSLDJSLK HOLD UP

IS HE TRYING TO SAY “SHOUTA”, I CAN’T, I’M?!?!!!!

ADSLFKJALSKDJW

(ETA: I think you can see Shirakumo’s eye rolling back here as he fights against the brainwashing omg. this chapter’s fucking art, though.)

YESSSSSS you keep on ticking off that checklist of clichés, Horikoshi!! I’m so weak for this shit it’s not even funny. actually that’s not true, this plotline is usually hit or miss with me, but I’ll tell you what though, if there’s one guaranteed way to have me freaking the fuck out rather than sighing and rolling my eyes, it’s to have AIZAWA FUCKING SHOUTA be the one pounding on the wall of glass and screaming at his former lover to fight the layers of conditioning waging war on his mind. ohhhhhh god

lol the brainwave detecting screen is losing its fucking shit also and beeping like crazy. this tension is so thick you could plant a flag in it yeesh

is this Kumo remembering stuff??!

(ETA: thank you to the anon who pointed out I posted the wrong image earlier lol.)

why do shounen characters always recall events from a third-person camera view. curse this ambiguous flashback

AHHHHH

HOSPITALLLL ahh what??? “SHOUTA, HOSPITAL.” oh my god. Shirakumo I commend you for not having your first words after dying and being brought back to life and brainwashed for 15 years and then waking up in a straitjacket in a prison cell be, “FUCK ME OH FUCKING SHIT WHAT THE FUCK.” you and I are very different people but I respect that

HOLY SHIT HIS HEAD EXPLODED

so now everyone’s freaking out and we’re zooming in on Kumo’s eye again. by the way this is going to kill me when it’s animated oh god

OH NO THE PANEL WENT BLACK AND IT GOT ALL SILENT

(ETA: hmm I don’t think Caleb Cook knows what “whump” means nowadays. whump is what I wish we had here. instead it’s just lots of hurt but very little comfort. JUST LOTS OF PAIN AND SADNESS.)

Horikoshi please have mercy oh lord. also I see their hands touching, you. they honestly should be gripping each other fucking white-knuckled, this is all very traumatic. I think that if Shouta was holding Mic’s hand while his other hand was pressed against the glass I would probably start sobbing for real

what the fuck

did they knock him back out?? they seem really calm and optimistic about all this lol

oh godddddd

HE’S NOT CRYING YOU’RE CRYING SHUT UP. GOD, MIC, WOULD YOU PLEASE JUST GIVE HIM A HUG ALREADY??

so now they’re bidding farewell to Nao and Gran -- and HOLY SHIT --

okay hold up -- I just realized -- Kumo was trying to give them a hint about Ujiko’s location. holy shiiiiit. PLEASE START INVESTIGATING HOSPITALS, NAO AND GRAN. holy shit the Noumu arc is heating uppppp

Aizawa’s asking what’s happening with Kurogiri now, and I feel like he maybe should have asked that immediately after the fact rather than as an afterthought while they were getting ready to leave but okay

Nao says he kind of “short-circuited or something” and yeah that tracks with what we saw. though it sure does make that “THAT’S ALL FOR TODAY FOLKS, GOOD JOB BOYS, YOU GET A GOLD STAR” business just SUPER WEIRD though, but let’s be real, Nao has been swinging and missing with striking the right tone all day today

and now Gran is apologizing to Mic and Aizawa for the exquisite emotional torture he just put them through, but he says something is bound to come from it. WELL YEAH NO SHIT IT HAD GODDAMN BETTER

Aizawa apparently hasn’t run out of sad/tired/haunted expressions yet, if you can believe it

pretty soon everyone is going to be sad, tired, and traumatized! heh. it’s going to be so fucked up hahaha crying smiling emojiiiii

oh hey and we’re cutting to another flashback of AFO doing what he does best, being callously dismissive of human lives!

this guy. right here. is a rat bastard. for real. also Horikoshi sure picked a hell of a chapter to go all out on the art again, jesus. this is probably the first time I’ve looked at AFO’s fucked up face and actually thought “yep, that’s a mutilated human man” rather than “shouldn’t you be out floating in space with your asteroid friends trying to smash the Millennium Falcon?” so anyways yeah this panel is a big NOPE from me, thank you

but on the other hand, when Horikoshi uses those art powers for good, such as carefully penciling in every last individual hair of Aizawa’s perpetual five o’clock shadow, that I don’t mind so much!

yes. yes good

so now they’re vrooming off, and we’re hanging back with Gran and Nao for a minute

YESSSSS GOOD JOB NAO!!

looooool it’s ringing up the head of the HPSC and her phone’s buzzing and she’s giving it this hella dramatic look. like this is some patented Todoroki-level dramatic whooshing right here

that’s just how dramatic this entire arc is going to be, hopefully

WAIT WHAT’S HAPPENING NOW

IS THAT A CODED MESSAGE FOR HIM TO GO CHECK OUT THE HOSPITAL. AND HOW BUSY ARE YOU, HAWKS. ARE YOU THE “I AM IN SOME DEEP, DEEP TROUBLE” KIND OF BUSY, OR JUST THE STAYING-IN-CHARACTER KIND OF BUSY. YOU CASUAL BASTARD, WHO CAN EVEN TELL WITH YOU, I’LL JUST HAVE TO SCROLL DOWN TO SEE

oh hh my go

“LITTLE LATE TO ASK ABOUT THIS STUFF” so he comes from the Bakugou Katsuki school of tutoring, eh

I love that he actually followed through on explaining the PLF’s philosophy to Twice. and Twice is such a good boy. he’s studying so diligently. look, he didn’t ask to join a doomsday cult, it just kind of happened so now he’s just doing his best to figure it all out

and it definitely was a coded message, then. smoooooth, HPSC lady, smooth. so I wonder if the fact that she gave him a specific hospital implies a time jump. because I don’t think she’d have him investigate just any old hospital until they had a better lead and/or a more solid idea of what they were looking for

lol what the fuck

well I sure do not have any idea what this man is talking about

-- HOSDFLKJDLY SHIT WE’RE CUTTING TO UJIKO WE ARE CUTTING TO FUCKING UJIKO RED FUCKING ALERT!!!

HE’S TALKING ABOUT TOMURA I’M NOT CALMMMMMMMM AHHHHHH

FUCCKLKL FUCK THE WHAT HOLY SHIT WHAT DID HE DO

oh my god oh my god oh m

he made Tomura a Noumu. holy fucking shit that’s what he did. of course. so he’ll be able to possess multiple quirks, but because he benefits from Ujiko’s years of high end Noumu research, his sense of self will remain intact

AND DOESN’T THIS PROCESS JUST LOOK EVER SO PLEASANT. jesus christ. he’s not even allowed to lie down, for some reason this procedure can only be done while he’s hovering over the bed Exorcist-style with his mouth locked open in a silent scream (ETA: or is that actually his laughter we’re seeing?? because this panel wasn’t raw enough already I guess??) while random spurts of blood come chucking out all over the place. well that’s just

and Tomura fucking volunteered for this. how many scores of others didn’t?? holy fucking shit Ujiko. it’s not easy to be the most evil man in a chapter where a foil-wrapped potato with eye holes started waxing poetic about all the children he harvested and killed like some kind of bloodthirsty sommelier, but YOU FOUND A WAY. dancing a fucking jig while your so-called masterpiece is being gruesomely tortured in the foreground. man if there’s any justice in the world, we’ll find out in this arc that Ujiko used science to make himself immortal so that once he’s finally captured they can just keep killing him over and over again. I do not like him!!

so that’s it! we really are doing this thing, holy shit. Noumu arc here we come. see you guys next decade har dee har

[daredevilexchange]

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What's your fannish ID? brandywine421 on Ao3 ( @brandywine419 on tumblr)

What types of fanworks do you create? I write fic!  Constantly!  I am productive af, possibly at the expense of quality I'm sure, but for me, I can edit something for days/weeks - but I could be using that time to WRITE MORE FIC so - it's a fair trade for me.  Mostly AUs, I love dropping other characters into canon (we need more Miles!) or changing character's histories without losing the core of what makes them our faves. 

I really want to learn how to make gifsets but damn, that stuff is HARD.  But one day - *nods* - I will have a bunch of gifs of the Defenders flexing their arms with the lyrics to "this aint a scene it's a goddamn arms race" - *nods* - Imma figure it out.  

What are your favourite types of fanworks, when you're not creating?  I read fic and adore gifsets/moodboards.  Mostly fic, tho.

What do you like in particular about this fandom? Matt Murdock brought me to this fandom with his Catholicism and hotness and emo jawline.  I saw DDS1 and it didn't 'click' with me - Steve Rogers was my bae at the time - and S2 has Elektra who I heart and the introduction to Frank - but it wasn't until the Defenders smacked me in the face and I, sort of, left Steve for Matt.  (Sorry, Cap.) 

Matt's just trying his best you know?  He's a perfect focus for whump and his character traits make almost any AU I drop him into an experience.  I love shipping him with anyone that's not canon and the blind (ha) loyalty between him and his friends - S3 Foggy & Karen & Matt interactions made me squeal - S3 in general sent my muses into a STATE.  Every time I try to quit writing Matt (looking at you Geralt, I see you bb) my muses chime in with something new and probably fluffy af to do to him.

Do you like participating in fan events? I do like to play - but it totes stresses me out.  :)  I write what *I* like to read, so it's always a personal investment when I sign up for exchanges because it's *for* someone else so I want it to be 'better' than my normal output since it's a gift.  I much prefer to pinch hit because it's like a surprise prompt and my muses can run with it without giving them the time to stress/obsess about it.  My muses are very fickle.

What about your creating process? Ooh.  This is a big question that I could take years to answer but yes - particularly the music - I always have a playlist.   

If I'm writing plotty things , maybe I try to stick to quiet or Dateline/true crime channel but probably I'll put on my post-rock (the atmo playlist); if I'm writing action - upbeat shit like blackbear/panic/banks, if I'm writing smut - heavier shit like deftones/NIN/mcr, h/c defaults to emo like FOB/TBS/Envy at the Coast (the manpain playlist!) etc.   

I have artists I relate to characters, too (21 Pilots/RKS = Matt, 65 Days of Static/Tom Waits = Frank, Hozier/Halsey = Jessica, etc) but I'll stop here. 

Do you interact a lot with other fans? I try to comment on Ao3 but tumblr is a learning curve I've never figured out plus I'm not great at using it.  I'd love more friends to follow!

Is there any particular piece you'd like to showcase for this post?  Maybe check out Manatee - https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442737 - it's one of my fave gen pieces.  Or if you're looking for specifically Fratt, there's my flailing romcom series - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1247531

Do you have other fandoms you'd like to talk about?  I read fic, that's basically all I do with fandom but if I could put the early seasons of Arrow and Flash in a bubble and cling to them forever, I would.  I also love the Merlin fandom just because when I'm feeling down I can immerse myself in thousands of pages of fic where they're happy forever.  I miss Primeval and The 4400 and of course, The OC.  I love stories/shows about friendship and loyalty and pretty folks doing all the wrong things in the pursuit of doing right.  I'm not sure if they have anything common with DD apart from, well, I'm shallow and they had a character I thought was hot.  You don't have to use this answer, lol.  (DDE: HAHAHAHAHA)

Is there anything else you want to tell us about yourself? I have a short attention span :D

Where can your fanworks be found? I have as of today, 88 posted fics on Ao3 for DD - https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandywine421/pseuds/brandywine421/works?fandom_id=3352745 Thank you, @brandywine419 !

banner by @context-is-for-kingpins !

[ID on a white background, four black triangles that look like spotlights from above. Each illuminates one of the Defenders silhouetted in white: Jessica, Luke, Danny, Matt. A hand on the left is holding a pen writing the words Content Creator Spotlight. There is a little Punisher skull on the pen. End ID]

[datleggy]

a list of every anime i love/recommend, accumulated over the last 10+ years

1. NATSUME YUUJINCHOU 

SUMMARY/REVIEW: 

The main character is a teenage boy named Natsume, whose parents died when he was too young to remember them properly. He’s passed around random relatives homes, but because he can see yokai (spirits), he’s ostracized by classmates and his foster families (ALL HIS CHILDHOOD FLASHBACKS ARE SO FUCKING SAD) and eventually very distant relatives (an older couple who never had kids of their own and have so much goddamn love to give D:!!!) take Natsume in, and the story basically starts from there. 

It’s a very heart-warming story following Natsume’s new life in this new town, accepting his ability to see yokai, forging new relationships in the form of friends and family, and even with the yokai themselves. 

This is honestly probably my favorite anime/manga period, because it’s so sad but so cathartic and you watch as the main character grows and learns to trust those around him, and finally gets the unconditional love he’s always deserved, not to MENTION THE FACT THAT THEY DO A WHOLE EP WHERE NATSUME IS TURNED BACK INTO A LITTLE KID AND IT IS SOOOO GOOD OMG

Plus for those of you who enjoy whump, this show has a decent amount of it. Mainly emotional whump, but also some episodes where Natsume is injured or sick--as well as I believe one where his companion (the chubby cat on his shoulder who’s actually a pretty badass yokai) gets shot with an arrow and is down for the count. 

10/10 would and have watched again. 

2. KODOCHA NO OMOCHA 

SUMMARY/REVIEW:  The main character is a sixth grader named Sana. She’s a gifted actress on a t.v. show everyone likes and she’s silly and fun, very intuitive and surprisingly empathetic for a child. 

Her main problem is in school, where Akito, who she deems the leader of her class’ wolf pack of rowdy rude boys, lets them terrorize not just the teacher, but all the girls in class, as well. 

I don’t really want to give a lot away, so I’ll just state the obvious. This anime/manga is shoujo, which means that it does focus on a romantic relationship throughout the series. Mainly the one between Sana and Akito. Sana is absolutely oblivious about her own feelings, while Akito is a stubborn little shit. 

I remember watching this at like, age 12 maybe? And I really enjoyed it because (although I do enjoy your typical silly doesn’t take itself too seriously slice of life shoujo) this particular anime, while super funny and light hearted at times, was also really dramatic and even kinda dark, which was surprising considering the characters ages and the general kid-friendly vibe (especially the opening for the anime). 

3. DETECTIVE CONAN

SUMMARY/REVIEW:  Our main character is initially Shinichi Kudo, teenage detective, who’s on a date with childhood sweetheart Ran (whose father also happens to a detective but like....not a good one lmao), when his nosy ass self decides to go and check out some shady business and gets “poisoned”. 

The poison he’s given is intended to kill him, but what it actually does is turn him back into a child. And now, as Conan Edogawa, (who’s 7 but like....we just supposed to believe all these cops and detectives on the force are cool with a seven year old wee lil babe on these really gruesome ass crime scenes??? lmaoooo) we follow him on his adventures as he solves crimes and tries to solve the biggest mystery of all, his own! 

I absolutely LOVE this anime/manga, even though I’ll be honest, there is SO MUCH FILLER, but I like the characters enough that I really don’t mind. The show is at least 900+ episodes in at this point, and there are a total of 26 movies so far, last time I checked. 

Also, the show is a whump fangirls’ dream come true. The main character is thrown out of windows, balconies, shot at, and in one occasion actually shot, he’s had broken bones, sprains, almost been blown up or drowned/burned, been sick, and oh, his occasional transformations from child to teenager are incredibly painful. 

This show is probably at fault for my love of whump, since it was one of my first animes at like, age 9. smh. 

4. THE DEVIL IS A PART-TIMER!

REVIEW:

I’m not even going to summarize this one. The title does it for me. This is truly one of the funniest animes I’ve ever seen. Motherfuckin Satan works at a McDonalds part time and it is the BEST. 

Technically I would count this show as a kind of harem, but only because there are like three main girl characters after the overlord Satan himself. I usually dislike harem type animes but the way this is done is sooooo good I couldn’t resist. 

I would watch a million filler episodes of Satan trying to solve problems at his minimum wage job tbh. I love every single character, I love the plot, I love everything about this anime! In terms of comedy (with the occasional plot driven serious moments) this is IT bro. 

5. BLACK BUTLER

SUMMARY/REVIEW: 

The main character is Ciel Phantomhive (roughly 14 years old). His parents are killed, his house is burned to ashes, and he’s kidnapped (around age 9 or 10 I believe) and abused. During this abuse Ciel calls upon a demon to free him and help him get revenge on those who harmed the Phantomhive household, which is where Sebastian, one “hell of a good butler” comes in. 

We then follow Ciel and Sebastian on their path of vengeance, and along the way we meet Ciel’s human servants, three very clumsy and seemingly bad at their given tasks characters (i love them all), and some of his extended relatives and connections. 

My favorite thing about Black Butler is the art, both in the anime and manga. Everything is so detailed and pretty! 

The characters are interesting, the plot is dark but they manage to make most of the series overall pretty light-hearted and funny in general. Though of course there are chapters/parts of the series that get really grim (which duh, the whole thing focuses on revenge so...) 

I have to say, the arc I enjoyed the most has to be the movie, Black Butler: Book Of the Atlantic. It is beautifully drawn and sooooooo entertaining. 

6. INUYASHA 

SUMMARY/REVIEW: 

Our main characters are Inuyasha, a half-demon, who’s been in a sort of spiritually binding coma for the last few decades, and fourteen year old Kagome, who falls into an old well in her family’s shrine and finds herself being transported into another time period. 

Together, she and Inuyasha travel across the lands in the feudal era to find the scattered shards of the shikon jewel, a powerful jewel which grants anyone who possesses it ultimate power. 

I was too young to stay up and watch Inuyasha on adult swim, so my mom would tape the show on a VCR for me to watch the next day after school--yes, I’m old old. lmaoooo I ADORE this show. 

It’s so good! It’s got everything! A tortured lil half-demon with a sad past who’s stubborn and rude but got a good heart! A fierce and equally as stubborn main protagonist, who’s whole ass family knows exactly where she goes off to??? and are supportive af????? like???? her mama packs her and her squad of demon/exorcist/demon hunter pals bentos?!?! lmao i love it. 

The characters are awesome and funny and likable as all heck, and of course they all have their sad backstory, but like, unlike some animes (lookin at YOU Naruto) they don’t go mega overboard on it, at least not without some plot behind the episode. 

7. YU YU HAKUSHO 

SUMMARY/REVIEW: 

Before I even start in on the summary, ya’ll should watch this soley bc of the cute ass 90′s style animation alone. LOOK AT ALL THAT SHINY HAIR!

ANYWAY. Main character is teenage hooligan and overall cutie pie Yusuke! He gets struck by a car and fucking DIES in the first episode after shoving a little boy out of the way, only to end up in the spirit world where the head honcho up there (who looks like a wee baby) tells him “Oh shit, didn’t expect you to like, actually do anything self-sacrificing EVER so like, you’re not on our list of people who were supposed to die today...” 

And uh, I don’t wanna give anything away, so I’m just gonna say that if you haven’t seen this anime yet, you definitely should! It’s hilarious and dramatic, the fight scenes are very well done, all the side characters, who eventually become main characters are a blessing (specifically Hiei, who’ve I’ve had a crush on since I was 12) and the ending is a satisfying one, which you can’t really say for a lot of media. 

8. CHRONO CRUSADE 

SUMMARY/REVIEW: 

I still get weepy when I think of this anime, so all I’ll say is it’s about a badass demon slaying nurse and her demon companion and some very tragic shit. 

It’s a great anime overall, especially if you like crying yourself to sleep at night :) 

9. GHOST HUNT

SUMMARY/REVIEW: 

The main character is high school student Mai, who is hired by Naru, the head of a Shibuya psychic research, and together, with a group of questionable exorcists/psychics, they encounter paranormal phenomenons and some outright scary shit. 

I’m not really a fan of the horror genre tbh but I do like mystery, and the series deals with that quite a bit. They deal with each case for several episodes so nothing feels too rushed. 

The series is really fun in a creepy, wtf is that way. I recommend the manga, only because it’s more detailed in terms of plot than the anime. 

10. ASSASSINATION CLASSROOM 

SUMMARY/REVIEW: 

I didn’t really make this list in any particular order but if I had to say, Assassination Classroom and Natsume Yuujinchou probably tie for BEST ANIME PERIOD! 

This anime is about a weird ass “alien” creature, no one knows where it came from or why tf it’s here on earth, all they know is that in one year it’s threatened to blow the world up. 

His only request to the government is that they let him become a teacher for Class E, the worst class of Kunugigaoka Junior High School, and he will stay put, so that they can attempt an assassination on him during this one year period. 

AND LISTEN! I am a shallow hoe, so I literally never would have read this manga or watched the series had I not been roaming Barnes and Noble one day with my S.O. and picked it up to read as a JOKE! 

I was hooked after the first chapter and I am soooooooo glad I picked this manga up, bc it is absolutely not the type I would normally go for, cover art wise. I finally, after many many years, learned not to judge a book by its cover bc LORD this anime is so goddamn good, you don’t understand! Like, I’ve watched it so many times and still laugh at the same parts, cry at the same parts, am proud af at the same parts! like, this anime is an instant classic and should definitely be more popular than it is. 

assassination classroom and natsume yuujinchou????? MASTERPIECES! 

[mortallycoldmagazine]

Fic Recs!

So apparently it’s fanfic appreciation day? In celebration, here are some of my favourite fanfics- all MCU. I love them with my entire heart. READ THEM ALL!  :D (mostly stucky and stony, fyi) 

THIS IS IN COMPLETELY RANDOM ORDER. 

1) https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817463/chapters/31774497 - this is the only post-CACW ‘make-up’ fic that seems hella realistic and makes me actually forgive Steve. 114k

2) https://archiveofourown.org/works/14317536/chapters/33037362 - in which Bucky can turn into a white wolf, and how that affects the MCU’s natural pattern. 141k

3) https://archiveofourown.org/works/14910729/chapters/34537617 - In which Steve is Hades and Toni (fem!Tony) is Persephone. I love powerful, dark!Toni. It’s so beautiful. 41k

4) https://archiveofourown.org/series/41492 - If you want to cry like a baby, read this. AU where Tony comes back from Afghanistan and is diagnosed with cancer. SO DAMN POWERFUL. I’ve only read it once because it makes me Feel So Strongly agh. 290k

5) https://archiveofourown.org/works/7123282 - the first crack fic on this list! Teacher!AU in which Bucky and Steve are teachers at school who are infamous for their hatred for each other... and no-one knows they’re secretly married. Shoutout to @lesbiandanbeau​ for introducing it to me, it’s SO MUCH FUN. 18k

6) https://archiveofourown.org/series/582637 - incomplete series but it’s SO GOOD. In which HYDRA doesn’t give Bucky the serum- instead, they turn him into a sex demon. Contains a LOT of dub-con/non-con but it’s so damn good. 336k

7) https://archiveofourown.org/works/6606808/chapters/15115414 - powerful Fem!Tony (toni) makes me * feel things *. Pants things. Because she’s so badass, goddamn woman. (aka: the MCU...if Tony was actually Toni). 

8) https://archiveofourown.org/works/16176539/chapters/37798343 - even more fem!Tony. But this time, Toni has some ancient bloodlines to back her up. (vampire-ish, Addams family inspired Toni). Toni could bash my kneecaps in and I’d say thank you. 

9) https://archiveofourown.org/works/13640571/chapters/31325814 - in which Bucky is an (illegal) necromancer and Steve is the SHIELD agent that catches him in the act. But in a sudden change of heart, Steve lets Bucky go... and their relationship evolves from there :D

10) https://archiveofourown.org/works/18347003 -honestly, I’m surprised this is the first Soulmate!AU on here because I’m SUCH. A. SUCKER. For soulmate AUs. Steve/Bucky/Tony, with ‘writing on skin = I can see it on my skin’ soulmate AU. Beautiful. Captures Tony’s character really, really well. Damn. 30k

11) https://archiveofourown.org/works/1614746/chapters/3439820 - OH MY GOD THIS IS SO GOOD. I’ve always wondered what would happen if Bucky came back from CA:TWS and was completely and utterly compliant, and Steve didn’t realize just *how* deep it went. This answers that question. SO GOOD. 102k

12) https://archiveofourown.org/works/12823671/chapters/29276760 - in which Bucky’s mask is nailed to his face... but Steve saves the Winter Soldier anyway. It’s amazing. Goddamn. Read it. 71k

13) https://archiveofourown.org/works/8504761/chapters/19490446 - in which Steve is Death. Yes, Death. But Bucky is still Bucky. AKA: The story of how Bucky and Death somehow fall in love. 16k

14) https://archiveofourown.org/works/7469145/chapters/16973895 - IF YOU LIKE WHUMP, THIS IS 426K OF THE BEST WHUMP I’VE EVER READ. There basically isn’t a single moment when someone isn’t being punched, stabbed, whipped, starved, something. In which Steve and Tony are abducted by aliens and sold into a slave mining camp.  I love it with my whole-ass heart. 426k

15) https://archiveofourown.org/works/16295684 - one of the shortest fics on this list, but it makes me cry + feel hella empowered + fall deeper in love with Steve Rogers every time I read in. Aka- six times Steve was aggressively pro-choice. READ IT. 5k

16) https://archiveofourown.org/works/11779137/chapters/26559057 - you know how everyone reads a book in their lifetime that literally changes who they are as a person? This is that book, for me. It is so beautifully written, incredibly powerful, respectful, introspective, philosophical... I could literally rant about it all day. Wow. In which Steve Rogers and his Howling Commandos liberate a concentration camp; their mission? The rescue and rehabilitation of prisoners experimented on by Arnim Zola, among them, a man named Bucky. SO. AMAZING. 47k

17) https://archiveofourown.org/works/16204610 - crack at it’s finest. In which a Very Stoic Winter Soldier has a secret boyfriend. That none of his teammates know about. (spoiler alert: it’s modern!Steve). And his teammates * might * be under the impression that he’s actually a dog.  17k

18) https://archiveofourown.org/works/3476579 - OH FUCK. This fic makes me cry faster, and more, than any other fic I’ve ever read. Literally- 8k, and I cry at *least * three times every single time I read it. I don’t even know why- it’s just so, incredibly, absolutely bittersweet. I love it. Read it.  In which post-CATWS Bucky has a lot of brain damage, and is making his way through life despite it. Wow. 8k

19) https://archiveofourown.org/works/11838204/chapters/26720631 - in which Steve jumped after Bucky, and HYDRA acquired two Assets. SEE IT’S SO GOOD EVEN THE SUMMARY IS AMAZING. WOAH. SO GOOD. 55K

20) https://archiveofourown.org/works/7271731/chapters/16511242 - In which HYDRA kidnaps five-year-old Tony Stark, and raises him as ‘The Mechanic’. Of course, that doesn’t stop him from becoming IronMan. Or an Avenger. 54k

21)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/16457597/chapters/38540813 - SO GOOD. I’m a sucker for healing/recovering fics, but who cares. Amazing. Steve/Bucky

22) https://archiveofourown.org/works/18787102/chapters/44573662 - 3K OF AMAZINGNESS THAT’S INCOMPLETE AND MAKES ME WANT TO TEAR MY HAIR OUT. SO GOOD. SO GOOD. HOW IS IT SO GOOD. WTF. Irondad.... but not. Aka, Peter Parker travels through the multiverse to try and find Tony Stark. But instead, he finds someone with the same face.... whose name is Robert Downey Junior? AHHHHHHHHHHHHH 3K

23) https://archiveofourown.org/works/14772824/chapters/34165730 - this makes me feel. So Soft. You don’t understand. If you want 93k of Steve fretting about nothing and Bucky being confused yet adorable, this is for you. I love it with my entire heart. 93k. 

24) https://archiveofourown.org/works/349478 - WHY DOES NO-ONE TALK ABOUT THIS FIC. In which Tony gets amnesia, and starts forgetting things. And people. and Steve. 43k 

25) https://archiveofourown.org/works/12912708/chapters/29501541 - CRACK AT IT’S FINEST. I love this so much. Tony comes out as Ironman, and the entire world goes ‘yeah, right. no.’ It evolves from there... I’ve literally been ON THE FLOOR IN TEARS from laughter from this fic. I love it. Winteriron. 19k. 

26) https://archiveofourown.org/works/15878580/chapters/36997887 - another AMAZING crack fic. The metaphors are hilarious. You don’t understand how much I love this fic. It’s more than, like, Bucky loves plums. I LOVE IT. 44k 

27) https://archiveofourown.org/series/597010 - modern!bucky + cap!Steve. Bucky is the sassiest person ever and i love him for it. Read this series. You won’t regret it. 33k 

28) https://archiveofourown.org/works/15555630 - Why am I such a sucker for crack fics. 4k. steve/bucky. I love it. read it. it’ll take 5 minutes and your day will be So Much Better. 4k

29) https://archiveofourown.org/series/1021446 - lmao. In which a Very Stoic Winter Soldier has a secret boyfriend. (spoiler alert: it’s Steve). “BUT WAIT!” I hear you say. “Didn’t you already rec this fic? Wasn’t that #17?” and I reply “YOU FOOLS! I LOVE THIS TROPE SO MUCH I’M RECCING TWO FICS OF IT BECAUSE IT OWNS MY ENTIRE HEART!” and then you read them both. 2k. 

30) https://archiveofourown.org/works/13414524 - in which a Very Drunk modern!Bucky is dared by the modern!Howling Commandoes to ask this guy in a bar for a piggy back ride. Spoiler: the guy is cap!Steve. crack. the best group-chat fic I’ve ever read. 2k 

31) https://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/6146123 - if you want the longest, most exhaustive breakdown of Stucky ever, this is your fic. 731k ( YES 731K) OF AMAZING METAPHORS, emotions, and so. much. pining. I love it. 731k. 

32)  https://archiveofourown.org/series/426577 - Post-CATWS. Bucky is addicted to heroine. and has adopted two children. What else is new? 131k

33) https://archiveofourown.org/works/10720710/chapters/23753940 - if you haven’t read Celestial Navigation, can you actually call yourself part of the MCU fandom? It’s. So good. I’m in awe. Always makes me cry lmao. 210k

34) https://archiveofourown.org/series/195689 jesus christ this is good and emotional and heartfelt and sincere and funny and just the best thing ever read IT. Post-CATWS. Bucky’s new mission: protect Steve Rogers. Now, if only Steve was aware of this fact, and would stop looking for him. 264k.

35) https://archiveofourown.org/series/429256 - * claps hands * UNDERAPPRECIATED FIC TIME. In which post-CATWS Bucky is taking down Hydra, recovering, listening to music, and.... has a psychic connection with a spaceship? Okay then.

36) https://archiveofourown.org/series/1120239 - so damn good. In which Peter Stark is abducted at 6 years old by HYDRA, and trained to be the infamous Black Spider assassin. What happens when, ten years later, Ironman captures him? 139k

37) https://archiveofourown.org/series/780747 - the most well-written, in character MJ I’ve ever read. MJ/Peter. I love it with my entire heart. They’re so cute. 

If I had to pick a top 5, though, they would be: 35, 33, 32, 23, and 34. (see corresponding list numbers) Perhaps. Choosing that was like choosing a favourite child ohmygod. Really, just read all the fics. 

Hope this helped you find some new fics to read! Happy reading, and have a great Fanfic Appreciation Day! 

______

Here I’m tagging a bunch of people who I follow and are into the MCU that I think might like this. Sorry if this is annoying. 

@petersbenjamin @pepperony3000 @antifastark @sleepyrhodey @sapphirestark @mariahiill @vanddyne @spideyjlaw @magunahstark @iron--spider @proof-tony-stark-has-a-heart @stevebuckyfics @hufflebucky @rescuetony @tropicalcap @fucking-hell-sebastian-stan  @fuckyeahblackwidow @sabrecmcstonyficrecs @nacho-bucky @jaamesbbarnes @ironfamjam @underoosstark @yellowdistress @lesbiandanbeau @musings-on-bucky-barnes @the-ss-horniest-book-club @fysebastianstan @siriuslypersea @omg-just-peachy @tonystarkd @cptniron @sad-stark @antifastark @caroldanverts @sleepytony @madasthesea @serumsteve @incorrect-spiderson @kentuckybarnes @evanstar @holostark

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Feel free to tag anyone else you think might enjoy this! :D