#but I think that's partly defense mechanism and partly self-punishment

[youhavereachedtheendofpie]

I feel like that first scene Miguel has with Gwen is the perfect example of his story and his faults. He comes in, without invitation, thinking he is going to save the day and make a difference, and sort of is a little condescending to her just because he is older and bigger.

Fair to think that but because he is so busy trying to show how much more capable he is, he isn't paying attention to what's actually happening. She is actually aware of what's going on, and while she might appreciate help, she is just trying to figure out how to resolve the situation. She may not know everything and she may not be doing everything perfectly, but she is doing her best.

And so when he comes in all arrogant and whatnot, she's like, "Okay." And he gets his shit rocked. The same thing happens with Miles. And it really speaks to the generational divide. Even though I'm closer to Miguel's age, I feel like as people get older they are so insistent on having their way because of their experiences and are not open to considering that their way is only one way, not the way. He isn't totally wrong, but that doesn't mean the people younger than him have no idea what's going on either or that they may not have a point. I know you just reblogged a GIF set and weren't trying to start a whole discussion lol, but it really stuck with me that Miguel was like that (and I know part of it was the trauma).

It reminded me of how adults older than I am treat people, and still treat me, even though I'm very much an adult. And the other spider people supported him because they knew what he was talking about, like Peter, but rather than provide nuance to the situation, they just went along with what he said (again, probably because of his trauma).

I guess I'm protective of younger people because I know what it feels like to be dismissed, and I still go through it, and find it frustrating to deal with older people who do have experience, but are wrong a plenty of the time, are unaware of the reality of certain situations, and want ridicule you on top of that to simply show they are correct.

Rather than actively guide younger people, old heads wanna show off or tell you how things should be, and it's hard to listen to people who don't genuinely want to help you grow and improve things, but rather want you to fall in line and do everything how they think it best, even though they're not in the best position themselves.

hmm, I'm not sure it's arrogance per se, even though he certainly comes off a bit dismissive in that first scene with Gwen. It can easily read as cocky, but (if memory serves) I read it as much more out of concern. The thing is, if you are older and have more life experience, and also remember how grown you thought you were at that younger age, it's very easy to fall into that mindset of 'I need to protect these kids because they're too young to understand anything'. It's also very easy to become set in your worldview and opinions on how stuff works - and Miguel is clearly very emotionally invested in the canon events theory, even to the point where he dismisses the very idea that things can be different because he needs it to be this way because this way makes sense and gives him a clear purpose and clear rules according to which the world works. Idk, to me the most interesting part of his character in the movie is that he really cares so much and is trying so hard to save as many as possible and help as much as he can while operating under this assumption (a certainty to him) that total success (saving everyone not just from death and injury and destruction, but also heartbreak) is impossible. And to a certain degree he's right of course, you cannot avoid all harm and suffering, not if you're just one guy, and not even if you're a whole massive team of super spider-people. But he still tries to save the other Spideys from having to bear the responsibility. It was a canon event, there is nothing you could have done, it was always supposed to happen this way. And perhaps that's a very comforting thought to especially the older Spiderpeople like Peter B., who have already lost more in their longer lives. And then that's the main friction point with Miles, because he is the first one to actively and decisively challenge that notion that canon events (or fate, if you will) are both necessary and unchangeable. I think others may have had their doubts regarding the veracity of the canon events theory (Hobie certainly wasn't fully on board with the whole multiversal spider society idea in the first place), but I think to the best of their individual knowledge the 'evidence' supports the theory, because the big traumatic loss has happened to most (even Hobie) and there was nothing they could do to stop it. But this was, crucially I think, because they were usually alone when that took place (in the movie Miguel talks about the canon event in question being when a police captain close to them dies, but arguably the same probably applies to the Uncle Ben figure, commonly the catalyst for a Spider-man's becoming). But in the film when Pavitr's police captain is supposed to bite the dust he is saved because there were like four of them who could work together.

But crucially it isn't until Miles refuses to just accept that his father has to die that the real break occurs. The situation before? Well they didn't know. Cpt. Singh could still bite the dust another time & way. The timeline isn't so much endangered as delayed, if you want to be callous about it. But Miles just flat out refuses to even entertain the idea, cuz that's his dad and he's a Spider-Man and he's a hero, right? He has to try to save him. Interestingly he doesn't question that the fatal event is going to happen, or even when, he just thinks he can change the outcome if he tries hard enough. There's something very much of the ancient greek myths about this. In trying to prevent the prophecy from coming true you actually end up doing everything to ensure that it does. So basically Miguel believes in the prophecy completely, while Miles believes he can change the prophecy, but neither (at least at this point) questions the prophecy as such. Very interesting stuff.

[star-anise]

The idea of attack therapy is horrifying. Why.... would therapists ever think that was a good idea? Like, aside from the ones that wanted to be cult leaders, I mean

It definitely IS horrifying.

Attack therapy came out of the particular social context of the 1950s/60s/70s, when there was a lot of cultural anxiety about How People Are Bad and How to Make Them Better. About whether you should force people to rigidly conform to society’s expectations, or place your trust in the inherent goodness of humanity. These debates haven’t really left us, but they’ve become a lot less stark than they were, partly because we have data from that era to help us out.

Specifically, as far as I understand the history, attack therapy came from the specific milieu that was psychologists coming to understand the power of group therapy and people in groups. The emphasis in group therapy, especially encounter groups, was about getting people out of their mental ruts and authentically experiencing other human beings. 

While psychotherapists were supposed to be neutral and non-judgmental, people in encounter-groups could challenge each other and provide alternate perspectives, and that had enormous value. Still has, I guess--social media sites like Tumblr are one big encounter group.

It’s just... you need a basic baseline of self-esteem and emotional coping for someone to be able to venture out safely into the world of Everyone Else’s Opinions, and you also need someone who steps up to say, “Whoa now, that’s too much, everybody back off.” And a lot of groups DIDN’T have that, and therapists thought, “Well, if a LITTLE challenge produces such amazing change, what if we tried a LOT of challenge?”

And, well, some of the people in those encounter groups, including therapists, bought into common social narratives about what produces beneficial change. From the idea that children need to be “scared straight”, that “tough love” and “discipline” will help people. That if people only knew the consequences of what they were doing, they would stop. That if you want to improve someone, you need to strip away all their usual defense mechanisms before you can build them back up again--”to make an omelette, you have to break a few eggs.”

I can be so absolutely confident now that people NEED love and support and a basic sense of belonging and being good enough before they can make positive change because we HAVE data from that era. When someone goes “We just need to yell at this person to toughen up,” I can literally pull out all the research studies and say, “Sit down, asshole, we know that doesn’t work because we tried.”

A lot of people don’t WANT love and kindness and unconditional positive regard to be the answer. I didn’t want it to be the answer for myself! I wanted to be able to be disciplined and exacting and high-achieving and flawless. For one, it’s so goddamn emotionally unsatisfying--when someone else is fucking up, it’s far more satisfying to be able to lash out in anger than lean in with compassion.

So it’s kind of like... as a culture, we needed to try. To try it out and watch it fail and meticulously document its failure, or it’s always going to be on people’s minds, like, “What if we just punished people to deter crime instead.” 

The hard part is to make it a lesson that sticks. For every parent who learns positive parenting skills, it feels like there’s always another who thinks yelling at or hitting their kids is the best/only strategy available. Sometimes I think it’s not so amazing that people thought of being shitty and mean--it’s that we have such a strong basis on which to promote the alternatives.

[austerulous-a]

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

1. What does your muse smell like?

Ha, I always seem to ask writing partners this question!  Annie herself has a rather keen sense of smell, and likes to be clean.  Her body’s natural scent is vaguely sweet but given she perspires considerably during martial training, and hit puberty earlier than most, she became fastidious about personal care at a young age.  In the interests of getting as much sleep as possible, Annie tends to wash out of a sink or basin in the morning, and shower in the evening (it’s no accident that this arrangement also means she’s also less likely to have to use communal showers at the same time as anyone else).  In Marley, she often retained the scent of the plain soap her father purchased, while in Paradis scented soaps became her secret indulgence.  Light, floral fragrances are her favourite, and she likes lilac in particular.

2. What do your muse’s hands feel like?

Having suffered with sensitive, itchy skin as a child, Annie is in the habit of frequently using balm or cream on her hands, which makes them soft and smooth to the touch.  That being said, as a result of domestic chores, her silver ring being a permanent fixture on her right forefinger, as well as her military training, Annie’s palms and fingers have some calluses.  For as long as she can remember, she has had cool hands (and feet) but inheriting the Female Titan seems to have exacerbated this to the point where they are frigid much of the time.  Annie’s hands are dainty, in keeping with a girl of her size and stature, while her fingers are dexterous, slender and deceptively delicate; she is strong, and can deliver a crushing handshake if so inclined (never forget this scene from the Lost Girls OVA).

3. What does your muse usually eat in a day?

Annie has an unhealthy relationship with food, and her eating patterns are disordered; she is the sort to forget to eat or to deliberately skip meals, or to binge when the opportunity presents itself.  Given that Annie’s value lies in her physical capabilities, her father was very controlling over her intake, and critical of both her body and her sweet tooth.  You better believe Gabe Leonhardt is the kind of man who would slap a biscuit out of his daughter’s mouth.  The regular, plain meals served by the military work in her favour then, as they provide some sort of structure and nutritional balance.  Of course, her impoverished background (picking mould off fruit and bread was a common occurrence during her childhood, as food close to spoiling was sold at discounted prices) and her appetite mean Annie isn’t a fussy eater.  She will try almost anything once, even dishes others might balk at, or consider an acquired taste.  Adventurous as she is, Annie carries a great deal of trauma around what she was forced to consume by the Marleyan military, as part of their experimentation on her and the Female Titan.  This included cannibalising parts of her fellow Warriors.  Living amongst refugees after the fall of Wall Maria, Annie stole food, and would split these spoils – as well as her rations – with Reiner and Bertholdt.  Sharing food is one of the easiest and most common ways for her to express affection.  Annie does not drink alcohol, her favourite beverage is limeade and she is particularly fond of lavender, lemon and mint flavours.

4. Does your muse have a good singing voice?

Yes, but Annie has little cause to sing, and it would mortify her to be overheard, so she rarely indulges (never underestimate her fear of being laughed at).  Sometimes, she will sing in the shower, or while doing chores alone, but she is far more likely to hum quietly under her breath.  For the record, I think Misaki Fukunaga’s vocals on Annie’s song (Kanojo wa Tsumetai Hitsugi no Nakade / ‘She Lies Within the Cold Coffin’) is a pretty solid representation of her singing voice.

5. Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous tics?

While she has been raised to be adept at disguising her emotions, Annie does have a number of behaviours that are born out of habit, and can be indicative of her mood – namely cracking her knuckles, or twisting her silver ring.  For a time, she had a ‘tell’ during combat where she would blink twice in rapid succession before making a particularly decisive or devastating blow; her father successfully hammered this out of her.  While not a habit per se, during her early childhood she suffered from excoriation disorder, and as such would scratch / pick at her skin, as well as pull out her hair and eyelashes.  As a young adult, swearing forms one of her more obvious bad habits, along with staring, keeping a wholly irregular sleep schedule and forgetting to eat (or conversely eating too much).

6. What does your muse usually look like / wear?

Whenever possible, Annie will remain in her military uniform both for the impersonality and simplicity of it.  Outside of that, she chooses roomy, comfortable and practical clothes in pale and muted colours.  Hoodies form her preference (she will pull the hood up when she wants to shut the world out, or to feel alone) but tunics, sweaters and jumpers also appear in her wardrobe – basically anything that’s relaxed in fit, and doesn’t cling to her upper body.  She is less concerned with trousers being closefitting, and is content to wear cropped varieties or even shorts in hot weather.  Skirts, dresses and more traditional feminine garb usually only feature in her disguises.  Annie is tactile and has a strong preference for soft fabrics, partly because for the comfort they offer her touch-starved self, and partly because she suffered with sensitive skin (an issue that inheriting the Female Titan resolved for her).  For the sake of practicality, Annie will almost always pull her hair back into her trademark messy bun, and likes a heavy, long fringe to hide behind.  Post-crystal, she moves towards wearing her hair down, finding that it helps soften her hard features.  Ultimately, Annie isn’t big on experimentation when it comes to fashion or styling, doesn’t wear make-up, and is concerned only with being clean, comfortable and presentable enough to pass inspections.

7. Is your muse affectionate?  How much?  How so?

There are times when Annie wishes she could be affectionate, but she genuinely doesn’t know how.  Her father deliberately kept her isolated, and dominated her formative years as a remote, unfeeling and largely inexpressive disciplinarian.  The height of care he showed Annie was silently helping her to wrap her swollen hands and feet at the end of particularly gruelling days, or tending to her when she was sick with fever.  His bedside manner was clinical, perfunctory.  Where other parents might hold their child’s hand, he would choose instead to grasp her by the wrist, often gripping her tightly enough to bruise.  Distance has always existed between them and, prior to the Paradis Island Operation, he placed his hand fondly on Annie’s head only once, and embraced her only once, the traumatic context of both instances sullying the contact.  As a result, she watches expressions of affection – mothers dabbing at their children’s sticky faces, friends embracing or tousling each other’s hair, lovers holding hands – with quiet longing and fascination, more often a witness than a participant.  Normally only close to others in combative situations, Annie is hardwired to associate proximity and touch with danger and / or pain.  It isn’t all doom and gloom, however.  With trusted companions or partners, Annie can and will open up, overcoming her concern with boundaries and rejection.  Mostly she expresses affection through small, fleeting touches; the brush of fingers, sitting side by side or leaning against those she is comfortable with.  Along with quality time, physical touch is one of Annie’s primary love languages.

8. What position does your muse sleep in?

Given the abuse that marked her childhood, it’s no accident that Annie assumes an almost defensive position.  Typically she sleeps on her side with her knees drawn up and her hands raised, vaguely mirroring her combative stance.  On occasion she will sleep her head under her pillow, or hide her face in the crook of an elbow.  While she very often dreams of training with her father, she is usually a deep sleeper and doesn’t move around too much – though the odd slumberous punch or kick isn’t unheard of.  Eerily, Annie will sometimes sleep with her eyes open, and she is a frequent sleep-talker.

9. Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room?

Most likely not.  Courtesy of her martial training, which demands she be light on her feet, and her father’s fervent subscription to the belief that children should be seen and not heard (along with his punishment / correction of any behaviours that he deemed irritating or undesirable) Annie learned to move quietly, to make herself as small and silent a presence as possible.  Being diminutive both as a child and as an adult, she never experienced the clumsiness that often comes with growth spurts and the shifting dimensions of a maturing body.  There is a natural grace and confidence to her movements, but also something soulless and mechanical that has been instilled in her.  Play and the raucousness of childhood was not something Annie was permitted to indulge in at home and it shows; even during her youngest years, she carried herself as an adult might, stiffly and precisely.  This inherent stealthiness is part of what makes her so well-suited to covert operations, along with the fact that she is plain and slight enough to go overlooked.  That being said, when she is especially exhausted or weary, Annie may stumble or move lethargically, and is more likely to be overheard.

tagged by: @oncejaw​​ like a million years ago – I loved doing this, thank you lovely! ♡ tagging: a ton of people were tagged already, so whoever wants to do it.

[orphidian]

𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙰 𝟶𝟹: 𝙽𝙰𝙼𝚀𝙸.

@solhunt​ said: what does namqi mean to orin and what influence did he have on her life? @mercysought​ said: tell us how namqi and orin started their relationship and how was it for her to feel for the first time that she didn't want to leave 

Their story is incredibly straight forward, and so is their love. Orin and Namqi meet not long after she arrived in the Last Safe City and left the Pilgrim Guard. He is Awoken, like her, which is a rare enough sight. Even rarer still, he wasn’t a Risen, but an Awoken of the Reef, a rather mysterious lot that keep to themselves, sharing their knowledge on weapons and medicine and agriculture with humanity but never revealing their home to those on Earth. Many people at this time would choose to avoid the Awoken whether they were Earthborn and Reefborn, so Namqi is surprised when Orin approaches him. She has an endless amount of questions for him, questions concerning their people, their home, and more. Over the course of two months—during which they repair his damaged Hildian together—she manages to convince him to bring her to the Reef, to break the queenslaw. Their initial connection is that strong. 

“Most of all, Orin is struck by his ability to listen with empathy. He is quiet more often than not. Long silences don't frighten him. And when he speaks, he does it deftly, without condescension.” — Queenslaw, Ecdysis

This is a direct comparison to the way Orin’s own speech is described earlier in the Ecdysis book, and explains why she finds herself so drawn to Namqi in the first place. She has finally found a mirror for her own empathy, someone who can point all of her own warmth back at her in full, someone she feels utterly comfortable opening up to. For Orin—who is intensely aware of how powerful words can be and how careless people can be in wielding them—this is incredible, and the feeling is mutual considering his willingness to go against Mara Sov’s laws by smuggling an Earthborn Awoken into the Reef. 

They’re caught almost instantly. Sjur Eido recognizes her old friend in Nasan in Orin, as does the Queen, who tells Orin her version of the rather tragic history of the Awoken. Namqi is given five years indentured service, wherein he gets to pick his service and negotiate his salary. Orin’s punishment is less severe, as she is not who she once was and so cannot be held accountable for her past oaths to the Queen. Instead, Mara demands a future debt of her choosing, of which Orin accepts. She is the first Guardian Mara ever trusts. 

Orin returns to Earth and keeps in daily contact with Namqi, begging him to come get her when he is finally released so that they can explore and figure out what humanity was trying to achieve before the Collapse and the Dark Ages. 

“They scour the inner planets in his Hildian. When parts of it break down, they work odd jobs.

They are deliriously happy.

Centuries pass.”   — Debt, Ecdysis

Realizing that she never wants to leave Namqi isn’t a sudden revelation. It simply never occurs to her that she should leave, and that feeling of claustrophobia never comes. She doesn’t feel that terrifying restlessness she’s felt before—partly because they spend most of their time exploring but mostly because she feels complete with Namqi in a way she hasn’t experienced before. Their love matures, deepens, expands. They invite others to join them, in their travels and their love. They ground each other, and never spend more than a few months apart.

Eventually Mara cashes in on the debt that Orin owes her, asking Orin to search for her lover Sjur Eido’s murderer. Her search leads her to an encounter with Xûr, and the beginning of her transformation into the Emissary. 

“Orin begins to experience waking hallucinations. Immaterial strangers speak to her in unrecognizable languages. When she reaches for Namqi, she feels as if she is falling into him, being pulled through him, sieved into smaller and smaller scarves of some atom-self that he breathes into the blood of his bones.” — Synesthesia, Ecdysis 

When Orin tries to explain what she’s experiencing to Namqi ( and Mara and Gol ) he gives her—to her ears—empty reassurances, and tries to convince her to stop searching for the Nine. Orin does not listen, and goes on without Namqi in her search. 

At this point in their relationship it’s not unusual for them to split off from each other. Orin is a part of the Firebreak Order, and so has duties concerning the City and the defense of its people by pushing into enemy territory. Namqi is still an Awoken of the Reef, and so has his own duties to the Queen and his people. They often go weeks or even months without seeing each other, sometimes without contact when in parts of the system that don’t permit communication. 

This time when they split though, Namqi doesn’t return. 

“On the day that Namqi dies, no one can reach her or Gol, though they do try.

She does not find out for months.” — Synesthesia, Ecdysis 

Namqi dies in what is assumed to be an aphelion attack on the RSS Armestris. The recovered transcriptions say they thought the hull was breached, and describe a “glowing creature” and something called “the stalking core” attacking the crew. The ship—examined by drones because of the high levels of radiation on the surface—shows no sign of a hull breach, no evidence of shots fired, no signs of alien or internal interference. And no survivors. 

When Orin eventually visits the Reef again, she is told of Namqi’s death, and taken to a room where she can listen to Namqi’s last recorded words. 

“On the day she meets Wu Ming, she is on Bamberga. She has just left a Gensym lab. She has just read a transcript of Namqi's last words. Her hands are shaking. She feels nauseous. She feels she can see herself in third-person, tottering to a safe place to sit and cry.” — Synesthesia, Ecdysis

“T-4: ORIN, IT'S ME, IT'S NAMQI. I DON'T THINK I'M COMING HOME, BABY. I'M SO SORRY. I'M, I'M, I JUST WANT TO TELL YOU THAT I LOVE [STATIC FOLLOWS]” — Bamberga, The Dreaming City

At this point the Nine are still very much “haunting” her, and between her grief and slow descent into madness, Orin finds comfort in a man named Wu Ming. She doesn’t recognize him anymore, doesn’t recognize the man she knew and loved hundreds of years ago when she was still with the Pilgrim Guard as Eli. He chooses to lean into that, at first it seems to get information about the Nine from her. It quickly evolves into something deeper, something consuming. Something ultimately built on a lie. 

And eventually Wu Ming can’t keep lying to Orin and tells her the truth: that he knows her, that they once knew each other, that he pretended to know Namqi, that he pretended not to know her. 

The Nine use Wu Ming’s revelation to their advantage, driving her away from him and into their grasp by exacerbating her own feelings of betrayal. Maybe even as a bargain, the Nine revealed a path to save Namqi, but that’s purely speculation.  

And while Orin succumbs to the transformation, she does not forget Namqi. In her most lucid states when she is the most herself, when she speaks and debates and argues with the Nine, she is thinking of Namqi. Even speaks as if he is listening.

“SAFE HARBOR IS VERY FAR AWAY

'Dogma. I'm sick of your dogma. I'll be just a little longer, Namqi.'” — Emissary, The Awoken of the Reef

This is mostly a method of coping. Orin has always existed as a liminal sort of being but as the Emissary she is even more so, to the point of beginning to lose sight of her own humanity. This is the inevitable outcome when who you are as a person has been pared down to the bone and taken over by beings incapable of understanding humanity. Namqi is the essence of love and empathy in her life. Speaking to him as if he were there with her helps ground her within the cold strangeness of Nine space, helps ground her within herself. 

“I’ll be just a little longer,” she says, and part of her believes that if he is dead then perhaps she will die soon too when the Nine are done with her, and go wherever he has gone. More likely—as Orin is not overtly spiritual and does not necessarily believe in an afterlife—she thinks she can save him. 

Whether this means the Nine were responsible for his death and merely made it seem otherwise and Orin knows this, or they have given Orin more knowledge about the aphelion and what might have become of Namqi and the rest of the crew of the Armestris is hard to say, though the latter seems more likely. In any case, she believes firmly that she will see him again. Whether dead or alive—for either of them—she can’t say. 

Namqi is everything to Orin. He is the first person in her many lives that she lets love her in return, fully. She’s always been open with giving her own love, but it’s always been partly used as a sort of defense mechanism. If she loves harder, when it inevitably fails, when she inevitably grows restless and leaves, it will hurt them less if she doesn’t let them love her as much as she loves them. 

But Namqi is the first instance of Orin opening herself to the terrifying notion of being completely known and fully loved. The first time she never worries about being made into something she’s not, something bigger than herself. The first time she doesn’t feel shackled by some nameless weight. He knows her, better than she knows herself. And she knows him the same way. 

Even in death he’s one of the only reasons she remains human. 

[apawcalypse632-blog]

Building Trust

Read on AO3:   https://archiveofourown.org/works/18039812

Chapters 1/1  Words:18655

Summary:

When Tony and Peter get trapped in a building a few months after The Vulture, Tony uses it as a chance for them to get to know each other.

Tags: Miscarriage, Claustrophobia, partly non cannon - I do what i want, Infertility, Tony and Peter father and son, all errors grammatical or otherwise are my own,.I'm not a doctor or a construction worker, talks about people who are dead, Angst, head cannons accepted, Suicidal Thoughts,Big Bang Challenge

Peter had once read that Finland had one of the worst winters on the planet. It was in one those top ten BuzzFeed articles and at the time he’d thought nothing of ever needing to know this information. That, however, was before Spiderman, before Mr. Stark and before the Avengers - because here he was on the top of a building, designated as a look out along with the Falcon, freezing. He didn’t know if Falcon felt the same chill, as he was on the building catty corner to him Peter hadn’t thought Finland would be this cold, but he couldn’t disagree that Finland had harsh winters, as he was feeling the harsh cold wind even with his spidey suit on and heater running at full blast. He wasn’t about to complain though. This was his first major Avengers mission since Homecoming and the Vulture. He wasn’t an official Avenger, yet. Mr. Stark referred to him as an “Avenger in training”. Which meant two to three days a week he trained with one of the Avengers. This was even more awesome then it sounded. He enjoyed getting to know them one on one. Or he tried to. The first time he met Cap in person, Peter had been so excited and spellbound, he didn’t say a word for about fifteen minutes, just nods and hand gestures. Peter had been thoroughly embarrassed by his behavior when he was in the lab with Mr. Stark later. Mr. Stark had assured him it was fine, and that Cap had thought it was endearing.

“Endearing.” He’d moaned covering his face back up with the pillow on Mr. Starks old couch. “That’s like saying ‘cute’. I’m fifteen, I’m not cute.” Peter could feel the mechanic raise his eyebrow. “You know what I mean.” “It’s fine kiddo, I promise. It’s not like with black widow where you called her a mama spider.” “I just meant that she is protective and has maternal instincts.” He tried to explain. “Even if true, don’t upset a spy kid. It won’t end well for anyone. Besides Cap understands that your nervousness is 50% looking up to him and 50% hero worship.” Peter groaned and buried his face under the pillow.” Mr. Stark grinned. “I promise, it’s fine.”

“Look alive kid.” Falcon called in the com.

Making Peter blush as he came back to the present and looked around. He really should have his entire attention on what’s up. He just found distracting himself made him less cold. Peter looked up from his position. “Right, sorry.” His teeth chattered a bit and he shivered.

“The cold giving you problems Pete?” Mr. Stark asked.

“Didn’t you give him a heater, Tony?” Cap asked.

“Of course, I did, and by my calculations he’s been running it at full tilt for about 45 minutes.”

“That’s right.” Bruce chimed in before he could say anything more. ”Spiders don’t thermal regulate. I bet you don’t adjust to cold weather well at all. This must be awful for you.”

“I could give you a lift back to the jet if need be. Bruce won’t mind company.” Tony offered.

“No Mr. Stark I’m good. Really.” He said moving along the edge of the roof trying to get warmer.

“Ok we only have about twenty to thirty left.”

“Only,” Hawkeye tutted, and Peter saw one explode from what must have been an arrow.

“As I was saying before the interruption,” Mr. Stark cut in, “We are dwindling them down.

When we’re down to five to ten you can come down and help finish off. Falcon is coming now, so it’s just you on lookout kid.”

“Sounds good.” Falcon stated. And Peter watched the wings span as he headed for the ground.

“Sure thing Mr. Stark.” Peter said with a smile. He was going to fight Alien Robots sometimes his life really was amazing.

Peter worked to keep his mind on the task at hand after that, really, he was excited to be here and not just about first avenger missions, but it was kind of hard to not be excited about alien robots, because honestly, they were awesome looking. It reminded him of a kitten - cute on the outside, murderous rage on the inside. He sighed. He would be in on the action soon enough and if he was moving more, he might be warmer He knew Mr. Stark had his reasons for keeping him on the roof and not in the fray, but he was a little annoyed to be stuck as a look out. He wouldn’t complain about this, because being here was awesome. His whole life was awesome. Well sort of. He’d lost his parents and uncle far too soon and he and Aunt May struggled, but they had each other, there was food – maybe not enough, but enough to get by. And now he had Mr. Stark. Since the events with the Vulture, Mr. Stark was trying to make amends and train him and finally be a mentor to him.

He climbed up on the ledge checking that all signs were clear and trying to see any more of the fight, which he couldn’t now. It had moved further up the road. He sat down on the edge of the building swinging his legs a bit. He took a deep breath trying to soak in everything. He was with the Avengers, doing Avenger-y stuff. It gave him such a thrill. After he turned down his chance at being an avenger, probably the dumbest thing he’d ever done, he was sure Mr. Stark was totally done with him. Then the man had returned the suit and sent a text message the next day asking if they could meet to discuss the mentorship/internship.Peter had hesitated. Aunt May had told him he was grounded from everything but school until further notice. She had not been thrilled to find out her fifteen-year-old child was a vigilante. But Peter saw the perks of a meeting with Tony and His Aunt, hopes that Tony could persuade her where he couldn’t. He’d agreed to meet and made plans for all three of them to gather the next day at a coffee shop near his school. When they had arrived, his Aunt May had been ticked and immediately began giving Mr. Stark a piece of her mind. Pepper had stood in the background obviously amused at Mr. Stark's discomfort. But after ten minutes had stepped in to help. She’d calmed May down, had given her tea and some cookies and they began discussing how this would all work. When they came back around to Peter being grounded and not being allowed to meet with Tony yet, all three adults had turned to give him looks ranging from disapproval to glaring. Suddenly he wondered what made him think this was a good idea. Tony had relented first, and promised Peter could start the internship after his grounding was over and that he would do his best to not let things interfere with school or any extra curriculars. May had then reluctantly agreed, much to Peters delight, and informed Peter he would be in the dog house awhile as his grounding was three weeks and school, decathlon and home were the only places he could go. Also, he was put in charge of all chores around the apartment. Peter would have tried to talk his way out of it, spiderman existed because he wanted to fix things and help people, but his grounding wasn’t really him being spiderman, that wasn’t the biggest problem to May. It was the lying and leaving her out of it all. She wasn’t thrilled with him being in danger, but Mr. Stark agreed that he had the absolute best for his suit, and he’d be getting training from the best. Plus, he was on top of keeping the kid’s identity a secret. They’d left, not before Peter gave a giant thank you to the man who had always been his hero. Tony had smiled and told him not to thank him.

Peter had thanked May and been happy to have her know. They talked a little about what had happened but May seemed a little distant about things. Peter couldn’t blame her it was a big shift to find your nephew was a superhero. The three weeks had not flown by. He’d been bored with zero electronics and only school to see his friends. Ned had been supportive and tried to cheer him up. MJ without even knowing why he was grounded had insisted it must be serious if he was being punished for so long and therefore his fault. He knew she was right, but it didn’t make it easier.

When the three weeks had ended, he was thrilled. He and Mr. Stark met at the compound after Happy had picked him up from school. They had a late lunch and laid out some ground rules and gone over the schedule. Mr. Stark and he would meet two days a week and every other weekend. This gave him time for homework and friends and May and still left plenty of time for Spiderman. It was a good deal for Peter. He had been disappointed to learn his time wouldn’t be with just Iron Man but recovered quickly when he realized he would be taught by some of the other Avengers. Now when he arrived at the compound, he’d change into his workout clothes then proceeded to do a basic conditioning program (basic for a budding super hero), then two to three hours of training with one of the Avengers usually in combat or self-defense. Though Widow had started a tiny bit of spy training. Finally, he got to meet with Mr. Stark for dinner. Usually taken in the mess hall or the Avenger wing. Weekends were another day of training, and then a full day in the lab with Mr. Stark. That was the best part. Watching the way, the man worked, getting to help. Ned was super jealous, but Peter gave him all the descriptions of everything he could. Overall, it had only been a little over two months, but from what he could tell things were getting better. He knew and trained with the avengers, though he felt sometimes they treated him like a mascot. But he was so grateful to be here that he allowed their treatment and didn’t say anything. He just wanted to be on the team. Things were still a bit closed off between him and Mr. Stark. Their weekly meets were amazing, and he learned a lot, but the man seemed distant still. Mostly he talked about things anyone could hear about. Well until the last week or so. He’d begun to talk a bit about his wedding to Pepper which would be on June eighteenth of 2019. And probably a blow out in terms of party and cost. The date was not something anyone really knew, so Peter felt privileged to know.

They also had pretty good banter. Peter felt he could to an extent tease Mr. Stark and accept the same from him. They didn’t really goof off in the lab, but sometimes at dinner or training it would happen.

Peter did a quick look around and didn’t see anything. So, he checked up on the fight and they were down to fifteen. He decided to wait till they had twelve which wouldn’t be long. He thought about quickly pulling out his Stark phone and texting Ned. The phone and a new lab top had been courtesy of the “internship.” He had tried to politely refuse, but Aunt May had approved it. Peter felt like neither of them was making sense when that happened. Mr. Stark giving him some of the latest lap top and phone tech. Especially when he’d just been so pissed at him for the Ferry. May having just caught him in his suit a week before and her agreeing to such expensive items. It seemed outside of what he knew about them both. Aunt May had explained he was close to sixteen and therefore closer to eighteen and if she forbids him from this, he would just work harder to keep it from her. She knew he would keep doing this no matter what she and Mr. Stark might tell him. He had felt a bit bad because he knew she was right.

Peter shivered and ran his hands up and down his arms to get some warmth back into them. He was watching and waiting for the last two to take a hit before jumping into the fray. He wondered if because he was perched high on a roof if it was colder than usual. He looked around to see what was happening as part of his outlook duties he needed to look at places other than the fight. The fighting was mostly happening in the middle of four buildings. Peter could see Cap, Widow, Hawkeye and Scarlet all down in the middle of the action. Hulk hadn’t been called in yet but was on standby. Falcon was now down in the fray as well.

Peter sighed, he wouldn’t complain about being with the avengers out loud, but he was a little annoyed Mr. Stark had insisted Peter work as back up, despite the teens protest, as he was getting over a cold that had lasted two days and for Peter with the spider bite that was a long cold. Also, Mr. Stark pointed out he was “in training.” Peter had thought about commenting if that made Falcon in training too. But they weren’t there yet. The teen squatted down watching the fight, still pumped to go, in spite of his position, when they finished killing two more, make that one more, robot.

There was a low rumble then that caught Peter’s attention. The building across from him has been hit with an explosive device. Peter’s advanced hearing picked up a small scream and he began looking around. The area was to have been evacuated when they got there. Peter had helped with it. But looking down he saw a young girl probably around four, stumbling sleepily out of the room with blanket in hand. Peter slung his web and went swinging across what had become the battlefield again as the Avengers chased 11 robots through the streets.

“Kid?” Iron man shouted over the com, “What the heck are you doing?”

Peter focused on getting to the kid no one else saw, didn’t answer, just swung in front of her and swung her back and away from the damage. Then he left her with an EMT further away and came back to jump into the fray as he saw number eleven explode.

“Nice work on the kid, kid.” Mr. Stark said as Peter jumped in beside him. The teen grinned at him.

“Seems we got about ten left and that building needs rechecked. He pointed over towards the building where the child had come out of.

“I can do that.” Peter said heading to the building.

“Be careful Pete.” Iron Man said as he blasted number eight and nine out of the way.

“Always, Mr. Stark.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “If you get hurt, I have to tell Aunt May. No one wants that.” He said with a half-smile. He shot one the aliens in the face. “Remember that.”

“I’m not sure how that effects ME. Mr. Stark.”

“Brat.”

Peter chuckled and entered the blown-out side of the building being careful to watch for anything structurally unsound. Though he couldn’t imagine Mr. Stark sending him in without having checked for that first. He wasn’t far in when he felt his breath begin to quicken.

“You OK Spider.” It was Widow. He sighed sometimes he loved having the Avengers watch out for him and other days it was like having five older siblings and two extra parents, or maybe four older siblings and three extra parents. Peter got confused when he tried to figure out who the mom in the relationship was, though he knew Tony was the dad. Or not that he thought that Mr. Stark was his dad, or thought of him like that, but he was something. A mentor at least. God, Peter thought, what if Tony was the mom? Then Steve or Stephen or Bucky, maybe? One of them would be the dad. Peters breath sped up.

“Peter, kid?” Tony asked, and Peter realized he’d not responded.

“Fine.” He croaked out.

“Don’t sound it Peter. Come back out someone else will check.”

“What? No, Mr. Stark I can do it.”

It was a moment and then the man responded. “First of all, we’ve talked about this before. When on missions you are to be completely in subjection to the leadership of this team. Which means if you disagree, you do what?”

Peter took a breath feeling like a kid being scolded and said, “I take it up with you or Cap privately or in a meeting and not on the comms.”

“Correct. Now you are in a private channel, so lay it out for me.”

Peter smiled, realizing the man wasn’t mad at him just teaching him.“Well, I feel fine Mr. Stark.” He said walking a little further in.

“The breathing changes?”

“I, um, I don’t always like small spaces.”

“You’re claustrophobic?”

“Just sometimes.” He hedged. “Apparently there was a day care next to this edge room.” He said trying to change the subject. Peter heard a creek and his breath sucked in.

“Peter, I think you should leave. Come out and let someone else deal with it.” A Pause, “No one will think less of you.”

The fact that he said it made Peter think they would. “I’m fine. Mr. Stark.”

“Peter, I’m pulling rank. Get out now.”

“I’m fine.” He insisted continuing forward.

“I will ground you for a month if you don’t exit now.”

“Can you even do that?” Peter wondered aloud.

“I have ways. And I know people.”

“But there’s a field trip for decathlon soon.” Peter said making it to the edge of the room, but not heading out.

“Then do as you’re told.”

Peter sighed and headed out of the room. He was in the doorway when things began to rock. He grabbed hold of the door frame and tried to calm his breathing. He could hear Tony yelling across the com. Peter knew he should move and try to go towards the exit, throw a web or something, but all he could remember were Vultures wings. The stupid thing knocking out four pillars and him, underneath it all. His breathing really did go a muck with this memory.His breathing rapidly sped up and he couldn’t catch his breath. Little gasps, as sawdust and drywall seemed to fill his lungs. His right hand gripped hard on the door frame making finger dents in the groove and his left came to cover his mouth. He wasn’t sure exactly what happened next, but within a minute something slammed into him. He whimpered as he was pushed further into the room. Whatever had him was hard and metal and had pulled him tight to them self before wrapping itself in a ball over around him and an arm over his head partly shielding his face as part of the ceiling began to fall in.

It was minutes of darkness, noise and things pinging off Iron man, as Peter finally realized it was Mr. Stark wrapped protectively around him. As it began to quiet, Peter could hear the man in his ear whispering soothingly and it -wasn’t on the comm. This was live and in person. It seemed to settle so Peter started to move. But was held firmly in place and that was good because there were a few post falling objects that landed around them.

“All right.” Tony said a few minutes later when everything had finally stopped. He moved off him and began to assess.

Peter looked up at him, the man was covered in dirt and debris and there were some pings and scratches in the suit. “Are you ok, Mr. Stark?”

Tony did a once over and said, “Yea, you?”

Peter started to do the same moving to twist around so he could sit but he let out a small whimper, bringing Tony closer to his side.

He placed a hand on his knee and moved the kids leg around, letting out a low whistle. “You have a piece of glass in your leg. Alien robot glass at that.” When Peter looked at him questioningly, he stated, “Normal glass wouldn’t graze the suit.” Tony moved his hand causing Peter to wince. “Pretty big piece too.” Tony said gently maneuvering around his lower left leg.

Peter winced, “Can we get it out? And how did I get Alien tech in my leg?”

“There was one back near the next room, pretty sure he���s squished now, but he managed to get a shot off before I had you, sorry kid.”

Peter shuddered at the idea of being squished by the building. He took a deep breath, “That’s OK Mr. Stark, sorry I didn’t see him.” He said sheepishly.

Tony gave him a shrug. “It’s ok, kid. Friday.” Tony said, “You with me girl?

“Yes boss. I have scanned the area and things are stable. I have also scanned the wound and it seems that it is embedded in the muscle and near the posterior tibial artery and removing it would be unwise.” Peter dropped his head closing his eyes and trying to not cry. It hurt, and it just felt weird having something embedded in him.

Tony squeezed his shoulder “It will be fine Pete. Friday send coordinates to Cap and have him send an ETA please. Let the others know Peter is injured.”

“Certainly” Friday said.

A few minutes later Friday came back, “Due to the way the building has collapsed it will be several hours before they can retrieve you both. The alien invasion is over however.”

“One good thing,” Tony sighed, “Ok let them know the injury is that Peter has alien glass in his leg. Not life threatening from blood loss, yet, that I can tell, but high potential of infection and disease given its alien origin and I’m not sure we have anything to clean it with, but I’m just starting to look.”

“Message being relayed.”

Tony stood and walked the perimeter of the space they were in. There were shelves of cubbies and a desk at the front. “Peter, I think we’re in the day care room.”

“Great,” Peter muttered tightly, propped up against the wall, “I can see the others never letting me live that down.”

Tony chuckled, “Maybe, but they like you. I think they might tease a little, but it just means they are accepting you and treating you like part of the team. We all tease each other”

Peter sighed resting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. “Maybe they could be less accepting.”

Tony stopped in his looking and gave Peter a long look. “Is someone giving you a hard time? Because if they are Cap and I can take care of it. Unless it is Cap? It isn’t me is it. I thought you liked banter,”

Peter opened his eyes, “It’s not you or Cap or anyone on the team for that matter, I just don’t like to be teased.” He hoped Tony would drop it.

“Sure kid, we’ll lay off, but just know no one means anything negative by it.”

Peter sighed, “Sorry Mr. Stark, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, there teasing is fine. Really.”

“You sure?” Tony asked skeptically as he rifled through the teacher’s desk.

“Yea.” He closed his eyes again and waited as Tony searched the rest of the room.

It was a few minutes later when Tony returned with what he found.

“What’s all that?” Peter asked looking at the stack of stuff.

‘Some blankets, toddler sized, but should help us elevate and keep you a little warmer – even got a pillow.”

Peters eyes widened when he saw it was a Thor pillow. “I don’t need a pillow.” He said quickly. Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal, no one is here to see. Besides you’ll be more comfortable.”

Peter sighed took it and put it behind his head. It was small, but Tony was right it was comfortable. Tony proceeded to roll up a couple of the small blankets and gently prop his leg up.

“I found a first aid kit, so I’m going to clean up the best I can. It might hurt.” He warned.

The teen nodded. He’d had Tony clean out a wound before and it always stung. The man always apologized, but explained they had to use strong antiseptic to make sure infection didn’t set it. Peter had asked about that once since he had a healing factor and Tony explained that it was the fast metabolism that would run the infection through his body faster than a normal person and that could be deadly. So, it was best to prevent infection as much as possible. Tony began to open the kit and decided a distraction was in order.

So how is school?” Tony asked settling down next to the kid and pulling out the antiseptic and some cotton balls.

“School is school.” Peter answered with a shrug not opening his eyes.

Tony opened the bottle and poured some peroxide onto the small cotton balls saturating them.

“Grades?” He said, putting on hand firmly on the kids knee to hold him in place.”

“Well within acceptable Spiderman levels.” Came the reply. Peter turned his head away, so he didn’t have to watch or know when it was coming. Tony nodded. “good.” He then laid the cotton balls on the top of the glass giving each a small squeeze to get the peroxide into the wound. Peter hissed and jerked, his leg tensing at the sharp burn. His eyes watered and he blinked rapidly to try to keep any tears from falling, but Tony had only done side of the glass. By the time he’d finished the second side light tears were falling. Tony cleaned the mess of cotton balls quicky before handing a tissue he found to Peter.

“Sorry kid, but it was necessary.” He moved to sit next to him against the wall. Peter moved a little so they were shoulder to shoulder. His Thor pillow was comfortable enough for now.

“Thanks. Mr. Stark.” He said quietly.

“You’re welcome.” Tony said reaching up and giving a gently ruffle to the kids hair. Affection like this wasn’t often in their routine, thought toney was doing more recently.

Since you didn’t have much to say about school and you are doing well,” He monitored the kid’s education, mostly just to make sure his grades were still acceptable for the internship. “How are Ned and MJ”

“Ned is going to get the new Lego set for us to build. Lots of pieces and with only a few days a week to work on it, could take months, so it sounds awesome. Bit expensive though. MJ is… well I think she might want to date me.” He said giving his mentor a sideways glance.

Tony raised an eyebrow, “You think?”

“Well one minute she acts like she likes me and the other she calls me loser. So I’m not sure.” He said with a shrug.

“Really?” He asked ears perking up as he turned to Tony.

“Yes really. At your age love is weird. You don’t always know how to express it. Sometimes at my age you still don’t.

“Oh.”

” Yea.” Tony said staring off.

Peter waited a moment before asking, “Was it hard to date as Iron Man?”

“Please.” He scoffed, “Peter, you’ve seen the news, I’ve dated a ton of women as both Iron Man and Tony Stark.”

“That’s not… I mean what if Pepper got hurt because you’re Iron man?”

Tony sighed, pulling his knees up and crossing his elbows over his knees. “She did actually. With the Mandarin. She was hurt, nearly killed. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her kid. She’s the love of my life, the only person I can imagine tolerating me until I’m old and grey, and she still lets me do what I need to as Iron Man. She yells a bit when I’m stupid… Rhodey does too. But for the most part we work. There is balance.” He took a deep breath, “To answer your original question, I’d die if anything happened to her that I could prevent, but I wouldn’t give up what I have with her in the off chance something might happen. Been there done that. I think I’ve learned my lesson.” “Hmmm.” Peter hummed. “Thanks Mr. Stark, that’s helpful.”

Tony smiled. “Yea?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. Peter nodded. “Good.”

They sat in silence for a while before Tony looked at his watch and said, “Cap says it will be hours before they can get to us.” He’d already removed his gear once he verified, they were in a safe space.

“Oh,” Peter said with a sigh. “Why so long?”

“Well a whole building basically sits between us.” Tony said and turned to Peter when he heard his breath hitch. “You OK?”

“Mmmhmm.” He murmured but he was gasping a bit.

“All right come on”. He said pushing the kids head down over his lap, “Breath kid.” It took a couple minutes but the kids breathing finally evened out. “You good now?”

Peters head came up and Tony could see the red on his cheeks. “Fine, Mr. Stark. Didn’t mean to freak out.”

“So, you said sometimes you are claustrophobic?”

“Um, maybe a bit, I mean I don’t like being in buildings that might fall on me.” He pulled his right leg up and propped his head on his knee, the Thor pillow falling to the side. He took a deep breath then confessed, “I had a building collapse on me once.” “What? When did that happen?” Tony said shocked.

“When the vulture happened.”

“Peter that was almost 4 months ago you couldn’t have mentioned it?”

“I didn’t think it mattered. It’s not like buildings collapse on me often.”

Tony shook his head. “You really need to let me know things like this kid. I can’t help, if I don’t know. And I know the Vulture bit was a fiasco on my end. But I’m trying now.” He took a deep breath,” Ok what’s done is done. Are you going to be ok down here?”

“Well it’s not dark and I’m not alone and it’s not literally on top of me with me trapped with pieces of it on me holding me in place, so hopefully it will be ok.”

Tony stared at him for a moment then made some clicks on his watch and a hologram of a building came up. “So, this is where we are,” Tony said pointing at a smaller room, “and the collapse blocking then runs along here.” He pointed along some spaces around them, “This is where we are, and you can see it’s structurally sound. It’s everything around us that is having problems. That’s why it will take a while. But we are safe where we are from a further collapse. Feel better?”

“Oh, that’s, that’s not so bad. But how did it collapse to begin with?”

“I believe that alien robot that managed to get a shot off and send glass into your leg had something to do with it. Friday can’t scan all their tech. If I hadn’t seen him…” He trailed off

Peter shuddered, then gave a small smile. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

Tony flicked his watch and the image disappeared. “We have time to kill. You mentioned a field trip coming up?”

“Decathlon is going to Philly in a couple months they just announced that’s where the next competition will be. I must sit through some special thing with Principal Morita because of what happened in DC. They don’t want me to go AWOL again. But I get to go…. Well maybe.”

“Why maybe? I’m sure your principal will agree, you’ve been a model student since the Vulture incident.”

“It’s not that Mr. Stark. It’s just…. It’s kind of expensive and May is already working overtime. “

“Kid, if you need…”

“No thanks Mr. Stark. You already do more than enough for me, I can’t ask you for this.”

“I’m offering” He emphasized.

“Still Mr. Stark,” He said shaking his head. “I just wouldn’t feel right about it.”

Tony sighed. Then brightened, “You could work for me for it.”

“What? I mean I kind of already work for you.”

“Instead of just interning as Spiderman, I could give you actual chores/work around the lab or even the garage or penthouse and you could earn the money and it wouldn’t interfere too much with your other activities.” “That sounds… That sounds amazing actually.” He said with a nod.

“Good, then we are agreed.” He held out his hand and Peter shook it after only a moment.

Tony leaned back against the wall wondering what chores he could assign the kid, because his normal work wouldn’t cut it. It had to seem hard enough that he was earning it. Tony was sure he had some storage rooms that needed cleaned out and maybe work in the gym.

Tony realized after a moment that Peter’s breathing had changed and looked over to see he had a fine sheen of sweat across his forehead. “You ok?”

“Hmm.” Peters eyes squeezed shut and he made a small whimpering noise.

“Peter what’s wrong kid?”

“Leg.” He gasped out. “Hurts.”

Tony moved flicking his watch on for light and lightly took hold of his left ankle and turned the leg gently. “I can’t see anything causing pain, other than you have glass in your leg. There isn’t anything for pain in the first aid kit. Let me check the teacher’s desk. Maybe I missed it the first time.” He stood and quickly made his way to the front desk. Peter could hear him opening and closing drawers and then he came back a few minutes later.

“So, I found some children’s Motrin. Directions cover dosage up to an eleven-year-old, so I’ll just give you that dosage.”

Peter tensed as another sharp pain went through his leg and nodded willing to do anything to help. Tony poured the amount into the cup provided and then handed it to the kid. Peter tipped it back taking it like a shot in one go.

“You can’t take it again for 4-6 hours hopefully we’ll be out by then.” Tony said moving back up to sit by him. One hand dropping to the kid’s thigh and giving a light squeeze. “I know it hurts kid, but for now you’re going to have to just breath through it. The meds will kick in in maybe 30 minutes or so.”

Peter nodded, “Ok.” He said hoarsely and dropping his head over to rest on Tony’s shoulder. He didn’t want to try to crawl to the right and grab the Thor pillow.

“What you need is a distraction. Maybe a game.”

“I don’t see monopoly around here Mr. Stark.” The kid said humorlessly.

Tony rolled his eyes. ‘Ok smart aleck. I was thinking like a car game. Like I Spy or 20 questions.”

“The I spy would just be ‘I see something grey-answer - the wall’, Mr. Stark.”

“Twenty questions it is. I’ll go first.”

“But you just asked me a question about school and MJ and Ned and decathlon.”

“OK then you can go first.”

“Ok. What’s your favorite food?”

“Really? You can ask Iron Man any twenty questions and you go with food?”

“I’m under duress.”

Tony sighed. “My favorite food is meatballs.”

“You’ve eaten in other countries and your favorite food is meatballs?” Peter asked eyebrows raised.

Tony gave him a small smile. “Well my favorite type of meatball was the kind my mom prepared.”

“Oh” He breathed.

“Yea. I mean I still eat other meatballs, but when I was younger it was my favorite meal by her. She’d make it for me when I came home from school.” Tony sat there lost in the memory for a moment. “Anyway, same question to you.”

“Thai.” Peter said instantly.

“Figures” Tony muttered. The kid ate it at least once a week. “Guilty pleasure music?” He asked. ‘What do you like to listen to that people wouldn’t expect?”

Peter thought for a moment and then said, “I love the eighties.”

“Really?” Tony asked surprised.

“Yea. I like Michael Jackson. Sometimes when I’m training or working out that’s what I’m listening to. You?”

“Well you already know I like rock.”

“Right, I’ve been in your car and your lab.” He chuckled lightly.

“I like classical.” The kid’s eyebrows raised, and Tony laughed. “Again, it’s something I got from my mom. And while rock is what I primarily listen too, sometimes when I need to super focus on a project that’s what I listen too.”

“Maybe I’ll try that when exams come up.” Peter smiled.

“It can be helpful. I did that at MIT.”

“Cool. My turn. Hobby no one knows you have?”

“Hmmm, I should have said this before, but what’s said in here stays in here. We are in Vegas right now.” Tony said.

“Must be some hobby Mr. Stark if you are swearing me to secrecy.”

“Not just a hobby kid. Something only Rhodey and Pepper know. I’m going to trust you with it because you’re my mentee and I think trust is important between us.”

Peter swallowed, “I’ll keep all of it to myself Mr. Stark.” He said solemnly. “You’ll do the same for me?”

Tony nodded, “Of course.” A beat, “I play the piano And I don’t mean I dabble, I mean, I’m really good.”

Peter could tell it was true, because it didn’t have the usual Stark brag he’d heard about. “That’s amazing Mr. Stark.” He said sincerely “I’d love to hear you play sometime.”

“I don’t play for people kid. Pepper and Rhodey haven’t heard me either so don’t think I’m shutting you out. I have a special room in the compound no one knows where and it has a baby grand piano.”

“That’s really cool. I was never that good when I played the trombone.”

“That’s what you played in band? I thought it would be the trumpet or French horn.”

“No, my dad played the trombone when he was in high school and Ben and May still had his instrument in the attic. It worked out because I got to do something close to my dad and we didn’t have to buy an instrument or worse rent one from the school that other kid’s mouths had been on.” Peter shuddered.

Tony took a deep breath, ‘You don’t have to answer this kid, but do you remember much of your parents?”

Peter stared into the distance for a moment. “Not as much as I’d like. Mostly I remember stories from May and Ben and a few people that knew them. I have a couple vague memories or my mom putting me to bed and one of my dad’s putting me in time out. I think I threw a toy at his head when I was four and didn’t get to watch my favorite cartoon.” He smiled, “I love that memory. Not because I got in trouble, but it just reminds me at one time I was just a little kid, doing little kid things, with no worries about parents going away or how to survive a radioactive spider bite.” His voice was a bit choked by the end.

“Sorry, kid,” Mr. Stark said softly,” I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s OK Mr. Stark. No one ever really asks me about them. I mean May and I talk about them some, but really, it’s like people forget I had parents before May and Ben. Sometimes I feel that way too. It feels disloyal to not think about them more. I haven’t even been to the graveside since Ben died.”

Tony reached over and squeezed the kids’ shoulder. “It’s ok Pete. After my parents died, I didn’t visit the grave for years. It was hard.” He swallowed. “Eventually I began to talk about them and that helped and now I try to go once a year.” “There isn’t really anyone that remembers them Mr. Stark. I mean my family is May and she’s not even a blood relative.”

“Ben was related to your dad?” He guessed.

“Brothers,” Peter said. “Ben was the younger one. I was so happy when they took me in. Not because my parents had died, that part sucked, but when I finally got to live with them, things just got so much better and I did have people who knew my parents.”

“What do you mean by ‘when you finally got to live with them?”

Peter moved around getting more comfortable before answering. His head still rested on Tony’s shoulder. “I wasn’t immediately allowed to live with my Aunt and Uncle. Some stupid law about needing my own room and that being more important than a grieving child being with people who loved and wanted him.”

“You were in foster care?” Tony asked for confirmation.

“About four or five months,” he said with a nod. ‘I wasn’t a fan.” He shuttered slightly at the memory.

Tony reached his hand up and ran it through the kids curls for a moment trying to soothe. Then realized what he was doing and tried to stop, but Peter made a small murmur and Tony couldn’t bring himself to stop. Peters breath hitched, and the kid turned his face more into Tony’s shoulder trying to hide the tears that were starting to fall.

“It’s ok underoos.” Tony whispered gently. Peter cried for several minutes, some of his sobs coming out in loud echoing sounds in the room. Tony did his best to comfort and wondered how there was still so much about this kid he didn’t know. Peter eventually sat up swiping the tears from his eyes. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I shouldn’t have asked about your parents. I know it can upset me when others ask me about mine.”

“It’s ok Mr. Stark. I’m glad you asked. It was just a rough time.’ He shrugged. “It sometimes still is.”

Tony nodded. “I get that. My parents died almost 30 years ago, and I still feel that way. You never really stop thinking about them and trust me that’s ok.”

Peter nodded, “May says that and Ben used to say that too.”

“Smart people. Let’s try a lighter question now.”

Peter sniffles still not totally calmed down and said, “If you could be any animal in the world what would you be?”

“Are mythical included?”

“Since you asked, I’m assuming you have one in mind so yes.”

“Unicorn – they are so majestic and the national animal of Scotland.”

“Wow, Mr. Stark.”

The man just smiled at him, “I could also stab people with my horn.” That made Peter laugh, and Tony smiled at his achievement. “You?”

“A dragon. I just think they are amazing, and I could fly and catch things on fire.”

“Solid reasons.” Peter shifted again with a grimace. “How are you doing?”

“Still sore. Better with the medicine but still sore. And it keeps feeling better then I’ll get shooting pains through it which of course feels worse.”

“Mmmhmm. Let me check it out again.” Peter nodded and Tony moved to the other side or him turning his leg slightly. “Ok, this is probably going to hurt for a moment.” Tony said gently.

“Kay.” Peter said bracing himself.

Tony then poked at some of the skin around the glass. Peter swallowed a cry but couldn’t stop the small cry

“Shhh, easy.” Tony said gently. “I know it hurts. I’m almost done.” Peter couldn’t stop the yell when Tony continued poking. When he stopped tears streaked down the kids face and Tony moved around to sit back down next to him and pulled the kid back against his shoulder. He then rested a hand against his forehead. Peter couldn’t help but lean against the man’s hand that was cool and comfortable. “It’s infected kid.” He informed the kid. “You’re running a light fever right now. The skin around the glass is puckered. You might even end of with a scar.” Peter groaned slightly. “Why don’t you lay down and try to rest. It might help.”

Peter shook his head. “Fine here.” He murmured.

“You’ll be more comfortable laying down kid. You can use my leg for a pillow how about that.” He said, remember May mentioning the kids clinging during illness. Peter nodded and flipped around laying down with his head on the man’s lap. Tony rested a hand in his hair, stroking it gently. “Friday?”

“Yes boss?” “Tell Cap that getting us out of here needs to be a priority, the kid has an infection.”

He waited a few minutes till the response came in. “Mr. Rogers has asked me to inform you that they are doing their best to get here, but at this time it will still be another 2-3 hours.”

Peter groaned and shivered, causing Tony to rub his back and say, “It will be OK spider-ling. Rest. Then maybe we can continue our game.”

Peter nodded and closed his eyes again.It was only about ten minutes later when he opened them again.

“You should be resting spider-ling.” Came a voice from above. He felt kind of floaty. “Can’t sleep.”

Tony sighed, ‘Is it the pain?” Mr. Stark could do nothing about that.

“No.” Peter insisted.

Tony shook his head, ““Liar.” Peter gaped at him.

“I’m not lying.”

“Really?” Tony said, “So your leg really doesn’t hurt even though there is an 7-inch piece of glass sticking out of it, 4 inches of which are actually embedded in your leg?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Um, well, I mean, ok, so it does hurt… some.” He clarified when Tony looked satisfied at his answer and then troubled.

“Kid.” Tony was frustrated Peter could tell. The man took a deep breath and said, “As long as we’re stuck down here, we’re going to talk about this. But first let me look at your leg and see if we can make it any better.”

Peter wasn’t sure what he wanted to talk about exactly, but he leaned his head against the wall closing his eyes against the ache, while Tony gently looked to see if he could do anything that he hadn’t been able to do 10 minutes ago.

“Well it’s already elevated. But infection is beginning to set in. It’s pretty red around where the glass is sticking out.”

Peter swallowed hard, “Can you stop describing it please?” He asked.

Tony gave him a tight sympathetic smile. “Sorry kid.” He reached up and Peter startled slightly when his hand landed on his forehead. “Easy,” He murmured. “Just checking for fever.” After a moment, “You’re definitely warmer. We’ll have to watch that.”

“Yea.” Peter said. “So, um, since there isn’t anything we can do, what did you want to talk about.”

Tony sighed, “Sorry Peter. Being stuck down here isn’t helpful and we can’t remove it, you could bleed out.” He said regretfully.

“This is why I didn’t say anything.” Peter said with emphasis, “It’s not worth it, if you can’t do anything.”

Tony felt a stab from that remark. “Maybe I can’t make the pain go away.” He said carefully. He moved over and sat back down next to the kid. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to know if you’re hurting or injured. And it’s not every time that I can’t do something. You’ve been hurt a few times since I’ve started mentoring you and you failed to mention it.” He did his best to not sound accusing the last thing he wanted was an injured super kid pissed at him while they were stuck in a confined space. “Is there a reason for that?”

Peter gave him a sidelong look before looking down where his left-hand picking at an invisible thread on his leg. He shrugged. “I didn’t think it was bad enough to mention.”

Tony looked at him incredulous. “Peter, at least one of those times you had a pretty decent concussion. And while I wasn’t the best mentor when we started this thing, you were on a plane that crashed, and I don’t mean on the inside of it. Not to mention a building fell on you. I will not believe you if you try to tell me you weren’t hurt after the Vulture.”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “It wasn’t too bad. I healed up in a few days.”

He threw his hands up exasperated. “That’s not ok. With your healing powers minor injuries take less than a day, so how bad was it that you took a few days?”

“Some broken ribs, mostly. I think I had a fractured wrist too. Then just bruises and scrapes. Exhaustion.” He shrugged. “I slept like sixteen hours when I got home.”

Tony shook his head. “This is the type of thing you need to come to me with. I have a whole medical staff that deals with superheroes. They treat Steve. They know how to handle advanced healing and they are incredibly discreet. On pain of legal action. And I don’t just mean the police, I’m talking Shield. So, can we agree that no injury is too small, and you’ll come to me in the future?”

Peter looked uncomfortable. “Mr. Stark, I, we…” He took a deep breath, “What I mean to say is…” But he looked away, no longer talking.

“What is it Peter?” Tony asked gently.

Peter tossed his head back hitting it against the wall. Hard enough to hurt, but not do real damage.

“Hey, none of that. You don’t need a concussion on top of everything else. And I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Peter turned his head looking at the man and Tony could see s sheen of tears.

“Oh kid,” He said, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Whatever it is, you really can trust me.”

Peter took a deep breath closing his eyes. ‘We can’t afford it.” He stammered out.

Tony stared at him at a loss for about 5 seconds, before he said slowly, trying to wrap his mind around this kids’ innocence, “You think you have to pay for your medical care?”

Peter gave a small nod, a hand coming up to wipe away falling tears.

“Kid,” Mr. Stark said slowly wanting to break the news gently, “None of the other Avengers do.”

Peter swallowed hard, “I’m not,” he took a shaky breath,” You always say I’m not an Avenger yet.” He whispered.

Tony moved his head side to side not believing his own stupidity, “I agree junior Avenger would be more apt, but even if you’re not a full Avenger, you are my protege and that covers medical care. So, you can always,” he said with emphasis while squeezing the kids’ shoulder. “Always come to me for help with medical, or other, issues, but especially medical issues.” Tony leaned back against the wall and gazed down and the kid. “So, this is why you haven’t been telling me when you’re hurt?”

“Mostly,” he hedged. “I mean, Mr. Stark, Aunt May is very proud, and I just think she’d insist on paying. If she knew how badly I got hurt sometimes, she might not want me to be Spiderman at all and I can’t do that and then what if she…” He moved to hit his head against the wall again, but Tony got his hand there first cushioning the blow,

“I said to stop that.” The man said putting sternness into his tone.

“I just… I hate this… Not being Spiderman, but… OK. I’m not old enough to take care of myself even though with Spiderman powers I probably could and instead I have Aunt May who worries about everything. I have decathlon trips and the fact that I lose about 8 backpacks a year and she’s worried about paying for college and me just… I can’t keep making her worry. And now you want me to tell you if I’m hurt and I… I don’t want you to worry about me or… or pay for me. It’s too much and God, what if she kicks me out.” The words were a whisper and Tony was shocked that this was a worry the kid had. May and he seemed so solid. But Peter had flat out lied to her for a year and nearly gotten himself killed a couple times.

Tony moved over and reached out and pulled the kid too him.

Peter stiffened for a sec. “Um. Mr. Stark. I hate to question you, but are you aware that you’re hugging me?”

He chuckled. “Yea kid. I think we’re there. Maybe not every day.” He clarified, “But definitely in situations like this. Now, let’s break this down a bit. Medical care is part of the internship. Think of it like a job with medical benefits. May wouldn’t insist on paying when insurance covered it right?”

“I doubt it.” Peter said skeptically.

“Well then think of it like that and if she asks explain that to her. You really can’t go to a regular doctor anyway, so you really don’t have a choice in where you get your help. And I’m more than happy to provide what you need so you can continue to be Spiderman and that includes me paying for some things for you. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable but I hope with time it will ease and you’ll trust me.”

“I do trust you” Peter insisted.

“Maybe, but money can be a hard topic for anyone. That’s not just you. It’s weird to me because I’m used to having money. Always have been. But I’ve had friends and people I’ve tried to help that didn’t want my money and didn’t think I had good intentions when I offered what I could. It’s hard on both sides of the equations. But I hope you won’t let your discomfort keep you from asking for what you need. I promise to make it as comfortable and easy on you as I can. You know, I could pay you for the internship.”

“It’s not a real internship, Mr. Stark. I’d be Spiderman even without you. I don’t want to get paid for it.”

Tony nodded, “I never wanted to be paid for being Iron Man either. Not that I needed the money, but it felt wrong.”

Peter nodded. “So much for that.”

‘Well there is something else we can do. A few things really.”

“Like what?”

“Well I could give you an actual internship and pay you.”

“I don’t want it to take away from being Spiderman, or from school. Decathlon is starting to pick up more since we won regional s and Flash is…” Peter stopped realizing what he was about to reveal. “Well I just need to work to keep my spot and not end up with more detention. No one wants that.”

Tony nodded. “Ok then an allowance it is.”

“What?” Peter said sitting up, hissing slightly, then “What?”

“I’ll give you an allowance. You can use it on anything you need to and then you don’t have to come to me to ask unless it’s out of the usual. Really, it’s the perfect solution. I’ll just give it to you weekly.”

“You can’t give me an allowance.” He looked aghast.

“Sure, I can. I’m Tony Stark.”

“Yes, you are, but, I’m not your…. I’m not earning it. And it’s something. you give to your kids Mr. Stark, not some random kid that your training to be an avenger.” “Who says?”

“Any sane person.” He practically yelled.

“Peter,” Tony said slowly, “I gave all the avengers an allowance when they lived in the tower.”

“What?” He asked eyes round.

“I said, I gave all the avengers an allowance when we lived at the tower together. Steve didn’t work, neither did the others. We were busy fighting aliens, hydra or training.” “But Captain America worked for Shield and Black Widow and Hawkeye did too,”

“Contrary to popular belief Shield isn’t really a good retirement plan and while most believe, because it was advertised as such, I wasn’t the only one who helped try to put things back together after the Battle of New York. The rest of the Avengers donated too. When they lived in the tower, we just decided it would be easier if there was money given to them regularly like they were employees and that was I wasn’t tied into it and there were no hard feelings. So, we can do the same for you. If it makes you feel better, I can give you chores around the lab to do to earn it?”

Peter sagged a bit in relief. Chores he could handle “I think I would feel better with chores. Just I can’t have it interfere with school and stuff, like I said.”

“We’ll make that part of the condition then. You usually try to finish your school work before you show up anyway, but I know you don’t always get it done until later. I know May has you finish it before patrol, but from now on, you’ll do that first before you’re allowed to work in the lab. Along with any assigned chores.” Tony shook his head, “You are like Cap in a lot of ways. He insisted on doing chores to earn his pay too. Refused to let any Avengers live there without doing their fair share. I think, I just figured since you were younger those rules didn’t work for you.”

“Aunt May gives me chores. She can’t really afford an allowance all the time, but she gives when she can.”

Tony nodded. “So, are we settled on the money issue? We can discuss how much and what chores later. I’ll have something written up that you can sign. I imagine you’ll feel better having it in writing then feeling like some adult can hold it over your head.” Peter nodded. “Thanks, Mr. Stark. And it’s no different I guess then our deal for the Philadelphia trip.” He said still convincing himself this was a good thing.

‘Don’t mention it.” He said with a nod. “But there are some other things from your statement I want to ask about, you know, since we have nothing else to do?”

Peter sighed, “You want to ask why I think she’ll kick me out don’t you.”

“I do.” Tony affirmed.

“I… It’s not anything she does exactly. It’s more that I’m difficult because of spiderman. I once turned her whole life upside down when I was seven. Now again at 15. I was there when Ben died and I’m not sure she resents that a little, her not being there for his last breaths.” His breath hitched a little. “I mean we love each other don’t get me wrong, but she’s never really gotten past his death. And now that she knows I’m Spiderman, I feel like it’s only a matter of time before she realizes I was Spiderman then. And that I could have stopped it.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

Peter shook his head. “It was.” He insisted unable to stop the tears from coming. “We were out that night because of me. I’d been acting up and he was talking to me about that and earlier that day, I’d been out as Spiderman and I stopped a robber, but he was scared, he seemed scared and he asked me to let him go to give him a break to start fresh.” Peter wiped at his eyes, “and I did Mr. Stark. I let him go and,” he took a deep breath, “He killed my uncle.” Peters hands covered his face as he curled in on himself sobbing.

Tony didn’t hesitate to gather the kid in his arms. “Shh, it’s alright. It wasn’t your fault.” He kept saying soothing words till Peter calmed a bit. “You can’t blame yourself for that. You couldn’t have known.” “I have powers.” Peter argued.

“And last I checked it wasn’t mind reading. You could not have known. And even if you could have known, you were new to this, with no proper training. I’m guessing you were scared and in a bit of shock to have someone pull a gun on you. I hope it was the first and only time it happens.”

Peter nodded wiping stray tears away. “The worst part was feeling like I could have saved him and then having to tell May and have her try to comfort me. I decided then I had to be active in helping people and I couldn’t waste time on things like band.” Tony looked at him for a moment and then said. “Peter answer honestly, are you Spiderman because you feel guilty.”

“It may have started that way.” He said softly. My uncles murder pushed me to do this more, but I like to think if he’d lived, I would have found continued anyway.

Tony nodded. “Good, and you need to work on this self-blame. You are not responsible.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes while he absorbed what was said. “Mr. Stark, I know you say it’s not my fault.”

“It’s not.” He emphasized.

“But I still feel like it is. It’s been over a year since his death and I still can’t change how I feel.”

Tony thought for a moment, “Why don’t you try talking to someone. A professional. You have been through plenty in the last few years, it might help.”

Peter shook his head. ‘I can’t talk to them about Spiderman, Mr. Stark. It could put May in danger or me.”

Tony nodded approvingly, “Good looking out for yourself, but this is a Shield psychologist, one I believe you would like as I saw her myself.”

“Really?”

“Yea. The Afghanistan thing and events surrounding it were a bit harder on me then everyone realized. It wasn’t till well after the Mandarin that I decided to try my hand at it. It helped.” “That’s good Mr. Stark, I’ll think about it.”

Tony nodded, and it was silent again. “I believe one of us is to ask a question. So how did you and Ned meet?”

“Oh,” Peter said, “We were in second grade. It was my first day at school after my parents died. He was the only one who asked me to sit with him for lunch and then we both had the same cookies. He had a Star Wars lunch box and I had this old blue one that had belonged to my uncle and he’d used for years. Aunt May said as soon as we could she’d take me out to pick up a “cool” lunch box. But when Ned saw my sad blue lunch box that looked like an adult used it, he promised to bring me his extra one the next day. After everything that had happened recently, I didn’t really know if he would or if it was a trick, but he came in the next day with a red lunch box with iron man on it. His mom agreed I could have it.” He looked over and smiled at Tony, “I still have it. I shouldn’t tell you this, but I stash cash in it when I have extra, and it’s hidden in my room.”

“In the ceiling tiles.’ Tony smirked thinking of the homemade suit.

“No.” Peter protested and hissed when he bumped his leg.

“Let me look at that again, see how it’s doing.”

Peter nodded “No touching. Touching hurts.”

“Got it.” Tony said and pulled the phone for extra light. Then against the kids wishes he very gently touched part of the tender skin. Causing another hiss from Peter.

“I said no touching.”

“It’s how I know what’s going on. The skin is pretty inflamed.” He reached up with one hand and put it to Peter’s forehead.

“Mr. Stark.” He whined.

“I’m just checking for fever and you are definitely hot, so we will need to watch that.” Clicking on his watch he said, “Friday let Cap know that Peter is developing a fever.” A few minutes later the reply came in. “Sorry Tony, we’re going as fast as we can, but we are only a quarter of the way there.’ Tony sighed, ‘Fine but Peter says you owe us pecan ice-cream if it takes more than 4 hours.”

“Ice-cream?” Was the reply. Then a second, “Got it. See you soon.”

Tony nodded. “You too Cap.”

“Can I take more of that Motrin.” Peter asked softly.

Tony checked his watch, “It’s only been two hours.” Peter sighed, and Tony pulled his head onto his shoulder.

“So, you met Ned in second grade, and he gave you an Iron Man lunch box and that sealed your friendship forever?”

“Yea. We have been through some things together and of course he’s one of the few that know of Spiderman and what happened really happened to my Uncle. He also tells me it’s not my fault.

“And he’s right.”

“I’m trying Mr. Stark.”

Tony slipped an arm behind his back. “I know. You want to know how Rhodey and I met?”

Peter nodded against his shoulder.

“Well it was at MIT and I was younger than a lot of students there. I did a lot of stupid stuff when I was there, pranks, hitting on older girls, not showing to class then blowing the curve. Most People there knew my name – Stark. And did their best to schmooze me or get to know me based on that. They just wanted to be a part of the Stark legacy. Rhodey wasn’t like that. We got teamed up on a project to build an engine together. I showed up eating dried banana and blueberries and brought a girl with me. Making out with her in the doorway before I entered – oh and I was 15 minutes late. Rhodey walked right up to me and goes, ‘I don’t care what kind of smart ass kid you are or what your name is, if you show up late again I’ll have the professor take you off the project and maybe you don’t care about that, but I do, because I have things to do and I think having a friend as smart of you could help.”

“I straightened up after that. Well mostly. I appreciated his candor and willingness to tell me he was being friends with me because of what I could do for him.”

“That’s awful.” Peter said.

“’Maybe.” He said with a shrug, “But it was only like that a couple months. Eventually we realized we had more in common than we thought. The next year we roomed together and often we were the two instigating things on campus. It was a great couple of years. Do you think you might want to go to MIT?”

“I think if I can afford community college it will be a minor miracle.”

“I could...”

“No Mr. Stark. You know it’s amazing you have money at all. I only hear you try to give it away,”

“I just want those around me to be comfortable and if I can help with that. I will.”

“I do want to go to college. I’ve been working hard on my grades to get a scholarship.”

“Do you know your class rank?”

“Um, well, I do, but I don’t want to say.”

Tony was already clicking on his phone. “Oh look, there it is, well if I click this button.”

“What, Mr. Stark, You can’t. Please?”

“That bad.”

Peter blushed and shook his head.

“You know I’m proud of you either way, right? If you do your best that’s what matters. That’s true of Spiderman too. There is no need to be hard on yourself.”

Peter dropped his head back onto the wall. Go ahead and look.”

“You sure”

Peter nodded.

“Wow. Seriously.” Tony looked at him mouth agape and Peter didn’t think he’d ever seen him like this.

“You’re number three and not in your class, that you’re number one, but in the school number three. This is fantastic you continue like this and you will get into any place you want to go.’

“I still need the SAT.”

“You will rock it. I can tutor you or get you one and I know enough smart people it won’t cost anything. Hell, Rhodey would be qualified. Come to think of it so would Banner and Widow. Widow might teach you things you shouldn’t know – spy things. So, Banner, Rhodey or I could all help.”

“That would be good. But no matter how well I do, without financial aid I can’t do it, and I don’t want to get bogged down in student loans.”

“Well you could work for me.”

“Is your solution to just hire me for everything? You give me chores for my trip and insurance.” He said jokingly but sounding a little awkward.

“Yes.” Tony said without preamble, “Kid,” He said firmly, “You are truly brilliant. You already know the systems at the compound. I would be able to see you more often and if you go somewhere out of state the deal will start when you graduate. I pay for your school and you come work for me for twice as long afterwards. Takes 4 years you work for 8? You can work more than that, but you must work enough so I get the investment back. Also, non-compete clause no working for the competition.” Peter just stared at him not entirely sure what to say, so settled on, “You really are the best Mr. Stark.” Peter whispered. “without you I would never be doing any of this.”

“Not true. You were Spiderman before I came around.” He said ruffling the kid’s hair.

“Maybe, but not as good.”

Tony shrugged conceding his point. “So, what else do we want to know about each other. We still have plenty of time to kill.

“Have you ever had a pet?” Peter asked. They had talked about a lot, but he still felt he should be careful.

“Not really.” Tony said shuffling a little. “We had horses when I was younger. My mom thought there was prestige to it. Many of the families we had around had them, so she thought we needed them. Howard wanted her to be happy, so he bought two. I was about nine and found the things slightly terrifying because they were big. Once I got on one though I really enjoyed it. So, my father made an excuse to get rid of them a couple weeks later.”

“That’s awful Mr. Stark.” Peter thought for a moment and said, “I won a gold fish at a carnival. I um…” He blushed, “I named him Iron fish – since he was a gold fish and your outfit are red and gold. Anyway, he died after like three hours and I was super sad about it. Aunt May let us have a small funeral that ended with ice cream.”

“Did you name everything after me?”

“No.” Peter said offended. “If I had had a dog it was going to be named Han Solo.”

Tony laughed. “Nice name.”

“We, Ned and I would have called it Han.”

“Well we both got a story there even though you volunteered. But did you ever play sports.”

“Um... no.” He said decisively.” I didn’t do little league things because I was getting over the death of my parents and having to move in with my Aunt and Uncle. By the time I was in middle school I was super awkward and small. I wore glasses. Me and sports never mixed. “

“I was unaware you wore contacts.”

“Contacts?” He looked at Tony confused

“Oh no, the spider bit fixed that. Sort of how I have a six pack and a ton of strength.”

“Wow. Have you been to an optometrist since it happened?

“If I say no - am I going to see one?

“There’s a good chance of that.”

Sigh. “No, I haven’t. Aunt May just thought I decided to not wear them, and I never told her otherwise.”

Tony nodded. “Fair enough. But you will be seeing a shield ophthalmologist."

“What I thought it was an eye doctor.”

“Calm down it is. But a specialized one. I think they will be better for you and I know one personally:

“You seem to know everyone personally.” Peter said sinking back against the man.

“The money helps with that and my utter brilliance”

“How does Pepper put up with you?” Peter said then stiffened. “I mean… um… the pain is making me say things Mr. Stark I didn’t mean that.”

“Chill. I know you’re joking. It’s ok to tease me Peter. We are developing that kind of relationship. It’s part of being a mentor and mentee.”

Peter signed in relief. ‘So, did you ever play any sports?”

“As a kid I didn’t really play sports. Or play at all. My hobbies included robots and science and getting through years of school as quickly as I could. But when I got to MIT Rhodey decided to teach me boxing. Said otherwise with my mouth, smarts and money I’d never survive. I took a real shining too it. Surpassed Rhodey in those skills in the first year of school. We had fun sparring. And after seeing my dad sometimes it was a relief to go pound on something. When my parents died, I felt like I couldn’t box. Howard disapproved of it like he did everything else and why I say I don’t care what he thought for some reason on this point I did. Obadiah ended up talking to me about it. Telling me not to give up on what I love just because of a dead man. I didn’t go back to it right away but eventually I put a ring in the gym. I learned that Happy knew how to box and he’s good. We’ve spent hours down there just hitting each other.” He grinned. “There was this one time when Black Widow came. We didn’t know she was widow at the time, but she came in as a spy for shield pretending to be my secretary. So, she’s dressed in this white top pencil skirt outfit and she climbs in the ring and Happy is trying to be macho and I don’t know what he said but she climbed up him, wrap her legs around his neck and flattened him. Pepper and I sat there stunned. Happy’s pride was hurt for a month afterwards. But we got back in the ring.”

Peter said nothing but appeared to be contemplating something.

“Peter?” Tony asked.

“I, I just don’t understand.”

Tony’s eyebrows raised. “Don’t understand what? How widow took out Happy?”

“No, how you can say anything nice about Obadiah. He betrayed you. Tried to kill you. He nearly succeeded.”

“Nearly kid. That’s the take away. And yea he was a bad guy. The betrayal hurt more than anyone could ever really know. But if it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be mentoring you or doing the work as Iron Man.” “I don’t think that’s true Mr. Stark. You are a good person and I think you are Iron man. You would have found yourself here eventually.”

Tony swallowed hard at the belief this kid had in him. “Thanks kid.” He said and ruffled the kid’s hair.

“Your welcome” he said. They were comfortably quiet for the next ten minutes and Peter asked. “Do you think you could teach me to box?”

“You want to learn boxing?” He asked in disbelief.

“Yea,” Peter said shyly.

“Kid your learning martial arts, from military and spy experts. Not to mention self-defense, why on earth would you need to learn boxing?”

“Because, we won’t always be just on Earth. I need to learn all I can.” He said with emphasis. “You can’t shield me all the time Mr. Stark. I know something is coming.”

“Pete,” He laughed it off, “nothing is happening it’s fine.”

“Don’t lie to me Mr. Stark. Please? I’m fifteen not five. You can’t protect me forever.”

“Then let me protect you why I can.” He said firmly. “I haven’t known you for long Peter, but you mean a lot to me. I… I imagine what it would be like if I had a s… a family and I think you would be a part of it.” He cleared his throat, “I’m not a sentimental man. I don’t like to discuss feelings, but well,” He shrugged

Suddenly Peter screeched his head hitting the wall behind him as he then curled towards the injured limb. Tony just managed to grab his hands before he grabbed the glass.

“Peter Stop.” Tony screamed, but Peter was crying rocking back and forth. Tony pushed himself back against the wall parting his legs in a V and pulling Peter back between them, so his back was to his chest and he could wrap him in a bear hug his hands holding Peters. Or trying, he eventually wrestled both Peter hands into one of his and pulled the kid as close to his chest as he could. “Breath kid. I know whatever is happening hurts, but you need to relax. Breath with me. He used the hand he had over the kids’ heart to help exaggerate the breaths he was taking, them both moving as one inhaling and exhaling. “Good job kid.” He said as Peter started to calm. Small whimpers escaped his mouth.

“What happened?” Peter asked.

“Not sure. I can look if you want?”

“No.” Peter said settling against the man. It was comforting, and he was afraid movement would hurt.

“Does it feel like it’s bleeding more?”

“Some.” Peter answered his teeth gritted.

“I’ll need to look Peter but if you don’t think it’s too bad, I’ll give you a few minutes.”

Peter nodded and pulled his good leg up a bit.

“Elevate your foot kid, place it on my leg.”

“But I might cut you.”

“It’s fine the glass is on the side, just be careful.” Peter did as he was told moving slowly.

“It felt like it was being cut all over again Mr. Stark. It hurt really bad.”

“Hmmm, Tony said, but said nothing more.

It was silent for few minutes and Peter said, “How long till they get here?”

Tony checked his watch, then said, ‘Friday where do we stand?”

“They are attempting to clear debris and put supports in place. Captain Rogers asks that you do your best to hang on and they will do their best to move quickly.”

Tony sighed. “Tell him I said he owes us strawberry ice-cream as well.”

“Of course, boss.”

“You don’t like strawberry.” Peter said where he laid against Tony’s chest his eye shut against the pain.

“But you and Cap both do. And Hawkeye pretends he doesn’t, but we all know he does.

Peter smiles and says, “Thanks Mr. Stark.” It was quiet and filled with meaning.

“Get some rest, it will make time go faster.” Peter nodded and closed his eyes Tony sighed as he listened to Peter’s breathing out over the next few minutes. When he was certain the boy was in that place between sleeping and awake, he gently began to play with the kids’ hair. Hoping the comforting gesture would push him over the edge.

Peter slept for the next hour or so. Tony checking him repeatably as he could feel the fever rising.

“Cap,” He said into the watch acting as his com. “We need out of here. I’m 99% sure he has a blood infection and not being able to remove what is causing it is making it worse.”

“They are almost here, Boss. Another hour or two.”

“Another hour or two, it was supposed to be four we’ve been down here for six.” And no water or food for either. “Cap you owe me.”

Tony dropped a hand down into the kid’s hair and Peters eyes fluttered opened. “Mr. Stark.” He slurred.”

“Hey kiddo, how are you feeling?”

Peter turned very pale then and pushed himself around and got sick all over the ground.

Tony winced in sympathy and put a hand on his back gently comforting till Peter stopped.

“Come on” He said putting hands under the kid’s armpits. “We’re going to move away from that.”

Peter nodded and struggled to a further away spot. Tony went looking again and found some hand sanitizer and a couple more blankets. He then let the kid “wash” his hands, took another look at the wound and felt how hot he was getting.

“I have an idea. You won’t like it.” Tony said.

“I like you.” Peter said slurring.

Tony chuckled. “That’s good since we work together. OK, unleash the suit.”

Peter gave him an odd look but did as instructed. Tony then helped him move it down to his waist. “Now lay back”.

“What, why?”

“Because the floor is extremely cold and you are extremely warm, this just might help. Besides you were on the floor earlier.” “I don’t want to.” He whined.

“Peter,” Tony said firmly, “It will help, you’ll feel better.”

“Too cold.”

“That’s the fever talking. You have chills.” Tony then put his hand on the boy’s chest and pushed backwards. He was under no illusion that if Peter was well this wouldn’t work. Peter winced when his back hit the ground and he shivered and tried to push his way back up.

“Nope” Tony said holding him gently in place. “This is for the best.”

“You’re mean.” Peter said suddenly.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I’m mean eh? If I let an infection kill you, that’s mean. This is helping.”

Peter sniffled slightly “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. It’s cold.”

“I know. Just get through fifteen minutes and you can sit up for a bit. You can do 15 minutes, your Spiderman”

Peter smiled but sniffled again before nodded.

Tony tapped his finger on his chin, contemplating. “Hmm” her murmured out loud.

“What is it?” Peter asked.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“I think you know it all by now with the twenty questions.” He said.

“We haven’t finished all twenty so tell me something I don’t know. Please.” He implored.

Peter sighed, shivered and scooched his way to a better position. “I was going to have a sibling.”

“What?” Tony asked surprised, “Your mom or May?”

Peter swallowed hard, the memories still hurt, “May.” He said softly, “I had just turned eleven, it was a few years after foster care, so I was well adjusted in this new family and young enough to not be jealous or annoyed at the thought of free babysitting.” He chuckled lightly, “I remember finding out about the baby. May and Ben were beyond thrilled. Ben walked around touching her stomach all the time. They would just look at each other and grin. This little precious secret between the two of them. I felt a bit left out. Wanted to be included. They sat down with me and talked everything out. That was big with May and Ben, “communication”. After the talk I was less annoyed and more excited that I’d have a little cousin/sibling. They wanted to include me and so I suggested they give him my dad’s name as a middle name, like my dad named me after Ben. Ben and May loved that name and May liked Seth for a first name so Seth Richard Parker. We couldn’t wait for him to arrive, but at around the fifth month something happened. I don’t even know what exactly. Just May was doubled over in the kitchen one minute and the next in a hospital bed and there was no more Seth.” He took a shaky breath. “There wasn’t a funeral. Just May being bed ridden and Ben staying home for a full week with us. They didn’t even send me to school, though I did have to do homework. They, uh, they tried again as soon as she was able. She got pregnant right away, but lost the baby at about 8 weeks in. We were all devastated. This time they gave it more time. A third and final attempt, when I was twelve, and the baby died at seven and a half months. She didn’t want to try anymore after that. She was different that year. Sadder. I wasn’t sure she’d ever be the same. But one day she came out of it. And then Ben happened. I guess when she had no choice she stepped up. After Ben’s funeral, she sat down with me and we talked about how she had been distant that prior year and how she would be now. She said she had been very sad losing Seth and Andrew, the two babies “old” enough to be named, but she knew that she had already been given the best child ever in getting me and she’d do everything to care for me from now on.” Peter gave a brittle smile, “The thing is they always took care of me. But miscarriages happened and Ben,” a sniffle, “Happened. It felt a little like Parker luck rearing its ugly head. Then I got bit by a radioactive spider and while the agility and eight pack are awesome, it’s not a sibling, or an Uncle. It will never bring Ben back.”

Peter almost chocked on his pain then. Tony rested a hand in his hair and stroked it gently. “You didn’t make them lose those babies Peter.” He said quietly, but with firmness. “And you didn’t cause that person to kill your uncle.”

Peter put his arm over his eyes and cried. “I want Ben.” He said a deep ache flowing through him. Words of confession he’d not said since the mugging. “God, I want Ben.” He curled sideways his forehead against Mr. Stark's leg his left hand fisted into his pant leg.

Tony stroked his hair. “I know kid.”

“It’s not fair.” A childish cry, one Peter had thought but usually didn’t bother to utter, because it made no different. But here in this room, racked with fever, the confessions came easier. Tony stroked his hair saying nothing until the kids crying eased down. Peter finally rolled back over on his back his sobs settled. “You ok?” Tony asked

“Yea Mr. Stark.” He said cheeks darkening, “Sorry for crying on you, again”

“Nothing to apologize for kid. You know, something no one knows about me?’ Peter shook his head. “It’s that when I got home from Afghanistan, I wasn’t quite right. And not in the way Obadiah thought, but I needed help. I didn’t get it right away of course, and a lot of what I did people clocked it up to how I always behave outlandishly. But I was really in a dark place. One night I went out onto the balcony and all I could think about was jumping.” Peter’s eyes widened. “I walked to the edge and stood there looking down. I put my hands on the balcony fence and thought about getting up and jumping and what the world would say. How they wouldn’t be able to deny how I felt any longer or what I had been through. Maybe they’d see my father for the abusive as… jerk that he was.”

“What stopped you?”

“You.”

Peters eyes shot up. “Well not you specifically. People like you. I knew the avengers would be needed. I knew in spite of how I felt I would be needed as well. I realized there would also be a whole new generation that needed tech and help. So, I stepped back and went inside. I found Rhodey and told him what I’d just done, and he immediately got me in touch with a Shield psychiatrist. All very discreet.”

“I’m sorry you went through that.” Peter murmured. “That was very brave of you and your secret is safe with me.”

Tony nodded. “Thanks, kid. Just promise me if a day ever comes you feel that dark, you’ll come to me or someone else you trust.”

Peter nodded. “I promise.”

“I believe you. Now let’s see about the fever.” He laid his hand against his head. “Not helping apparently. So, let’s at least try to make you comfortable.”

He rearranged the kid, with Peters help so he was leaned back against his chest leaving the light t shirt the kid wore under the suit between them. “So still awhile on them showing up though should be in an hour or two cap says. Time for a few more questions.”

Peter sighed, but said, “Dogs or Cats?”

“Both.”

“Cheater.”

“Am not it’s fine to like both. You?”

“Dog obviously.”

“How is that obvious? I mean I guess you are loyal and enthusiastic, a bit like a puppy. OK I see it.”

“Mr. Stark.” Peter whined, but he was smiling.

“Chicken or Steak?” Tony asked

“Steak.” They both said together and then grinned.

“Widow or Hulk.” Tony asked.

“Oh.” Peter said, “In a fight or to befriend.”

“Both” Tony said.

“Widow for both.”

“Really thought for sure Hulk had at least one of those.”

Peter shrugged, ‘I am a mystery.” And shifted with a whimper. He started to ask but gasped out loud and tried again to move towards injured leg. Tony grabbed him” Shhh it’s ok almost done, just breath kid, breath.”

It finally let up and Peter laid against him panting.

“That was bad.”

Peter nodded tiredly while tony stroked his hair.

“We will be out of here soon, kid. Any questions you just must ask?”'

Peter looked at him for a long moment then let out a soft sigh. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings.” He said softly

. “I’m ironman.” Tony joked, “You can’t hurt me.”:

“Just because your Iron Man doesn’t mean you don’t have a heart or that you don’t feel things.”

Tony let out a sigh, “You got me their kid, but I can handle it.”

“It’s a doozy.” He said then winced, hand clutching into Mr. Starks leg. When tony gasped in pain, he immediately moved his hand.

“Shhh,” He soothed, “it’s okay.”

“I hurt you.” Peter said sounding distraught.

“It may bruise but it will be fine. Now ask your question.”

“I really don’t think I should.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker, ask.”

His eyes widened, and he mumbled, “Why didn’t you ever have a kid?”

“Oh.” Tony said shocked. He hadn’t expected that.” That is a doozy, but it’s an easier answer then you think.” He took a deep breath, “Before I say why, I want you to agree to never talk to anyone about this unless it’s Rhodey or Pepper.”

Peter nodded, “I can do that.”

“When I was younger Howard, well he wasn’t always nice to me. I felt manipulated a lot and a lot of pressure to do better, be the best. I had no idea what a Dad was, I’m still not sure I grasp the concept. Anyway, I didn’t want to be like Howard so I did everything I could do to prevent it. But nothing permanent, just in case one day I changed my mind. Well Afghanistan took that away from me. The chemicals the arc rector came up with left me unable to have children. Though Pepper has mentioned I could adopt.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry Mr. Stark that is just awful.”

Tony shrugged, “It’s ok kid. I’m at peace with it. And it was nothing like your Aunt went through. Anyway, I didn’t want to put a kid in harm’s way and if I’m going to end up like Howard it’s better for everyone.”

“I think you’d make an excellent dad, Mr. Stark.” Peter said quietly.

Tony smiled, “Thanks kiddo.” He ruffled his hair and they sat in silent contemplation.

It was about ten minutes later when Peter shifted and said, “Mr. Stark?

“Yea kid?

“If the arc reactor made it till you can’t have kids, does that mean the radiation from the spider did the same to me?”

“Oh kid.’ Tony said pulling him close. “I don’t know, but it’s a possibility. We’ll test you if you like?”

Peter bit his lip, “I’m not sure I want to know.”

“I understand, but at any time if you want to know, I’ll make sure you get what you need, discreetly.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” Peter shivered.

Tony knew the shivers were part of the infection and an indicator it was getting worse. Again, tony put his hand to the kid’s forehead and let out a low whistle. “You are blasting heat kid.”

“Cold.” He said shaking his head.

“I know kid, but we still need to cool you off.” So, he repeated the earlier steps this time removing as much of the spider suit as possible and laying him flat on the ground. When Peters whimpers became too much, Tony lay next to the kid and placed his head in the crook of his shoulder, providing comfort but letting the cold floor help reduce the fever, even if only a little bit.

“Kid how about another question? Or even just a story. Hmm? Would you like that.”

The kid shivered and gave a slight nod against shoulder. “Question?”

“Really? A question over a story. You must be delusional.” Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s more distracting then listening.”

“Fair enough.” Tony thought for a moment then said, “What do you want for Christmas.”

“I’m fifteen not five, Mr. Stark.”

Tony laughed, “Doesn’t mean you don’t have ideas.”

Peter shrugged. “I’m not big on Christmas. Not anymore.”

“Because Ben is gone?”

Peter nodded. “We didn’t celebrate last year. This year I think we were having take out and watching movies.”

“Hmm.” Tony said, “That’s hardly any way to spend a holiday. You guys could join Pepper and I.”

“Thanks Mr. Stark, but I think May would want to stay in. It’s been hard on her, even if she doesn’t show it.”

“All the more reason to get out. May and Pepper, I think would get along. We could sneak off to the lab.” He said with a smile.

“I’ll have to ask her.”

“Of course. But now back to the question, what do you want for Christmas?”

Peter hesitated then said, “I could use new shoes, another backpack and some school supplies”

“That’s all stuff you need kid. Which you will get, but what do you want?” He said with emphasis.

Peter sighed then said, “If I could have anything, it would be a PS4 and some games. Ned is into gaming and there are ways to play games together but not in the same location. I think I’d like that. Everyone at school seems to have one.” Tony nodded taking notes as he asked about games and Peter talked about the new ones and how much he wanted to play something called Fortnight.

“How about you Mr. Stark?” Peter finally asked. “What do you want for Christmas?”

Tony smiled, “Time with family and friends. A good meal maybe watch some movies or play games. The things I’m not used to doing but are good for the soul I guess.”

‘That sounds nice Mr. Stark.” Peter slurred slightly and began to whimper.

‘Shhh,” he hushed him, “It’s alright it will pass.”

Peter was hanging onto him tightly again.

When this episode was over, Peter laid against him panting. Tony brushed sweaty hair off his forehead. “You’re doing so well kid. They will be here soon, I promise.”

Tony called again to Cap and was told less than an hour. Which was good, the kid needed medical attention now. Friday could tell the infection was almost through his whole blood stream. Tony did his best too shush and soothe all while stroking the kid’s hair. It seemed to help. But Tony knew more distraction might help too, so he said, “I know we haven’t known each other long, but you’ve made a big impact on my life. I want you to know that if you ever need anything, food, clothing, money, any of it. I’ll be there for you.”

Peter remembered the first time Mr. Stark had said something like that too him. A promise. It hadn’t been quite like things were now, under duress.

Peter took a deep breath before entering the lab. It had only been about three weeks since the problem with the vulture and it was his third time meeting up with Mr. Stark for lab time.

“Hi Mr. Stark.” He said quietly, knowing the man would be in the middle of stuff.

“Hey Underoos? How was school today?” the man didn’t bother to look up. He had a pair of high-tech goggles that allowed him to see the smallest of parts and was working on an Iron Man mask.

“Um, well, um.” Peter didn’t know what to say. His day had sucked but telling his amazing superhero mentor that seemed like a bad idea. “It was fine.” He cringed as that came out and hoped Mr. Stark didn’t notice the “Fine”.

No such luck when the man turned towards him. “Fine?” he asked eye brow raised. Peter nodded since Mr. Stark could see it.

Tony’s head tilted, so Peter could tell he saw the bruise.

Tony immediately pointed to the floor in front of him and Peter stood frozen for a moment till Mr. Stark said, “Front and center spider-ling.”

Peter swallowed hard and went to the intended spot.

Tony reached back and took a cold pack from U. “Put this on, then explain how you got it. And don’t lie and say patrol because anything that size with a good night’s rest would be gone by now.”

“I wasn’t going to lie.” Peter said softly as he placed the cold pack on his eye.

“You’ve had a habit of it.” Tony said with brutal honesty.

“I thought I was doing the right thing.” Peter protested.

“Lying to me is never the right thing kid. I know I haven’t done too well in the past, but I’m committed now.” He said taking the eye wear off and setting the tool he had in his left hand and setting it on the table by the mask. “So fresh start. No more lies from you and when you call, I answer or Happy if I’m busy. But you’ll always have back up from now on. We are in this together and I’m committed to seeing you become the hero I know you can be. I imagine one day you’ll be the leader of the next generation of Avengers. We’re not there yet. But this is the starting place. This is when you decide that you accept my help and be honest about what you need and what is happening, so I can assist you. If you can’t do that, you’re wasting both of our times.”

Peter swallowed and took a deep breath, “It’s this kid named Flash.” Tony’s eyebrow raised. “I don’t feel like I should act differently just because I have the powers and I want that to be a secret. If anything happened to Aunt May…” Peter trailed off and sniffed slightly. “Any way he got some of his as… jerk friends to try to start a food fight by throwing food. Only I was the only target and an apple hit me in the side of the head. It is better than it was.”

“Some kid threw food at you?” Tony asked astonished.

“Please don’t make fun of me.” Peter said closing his eyes against what he thought would be censure for not defending himself.

“Oh, kid, no. I don’t make fun of you because some jerk of a kid decided to attack you.” He stepped forward taking the pack setting it on the counter and then beginning to inspect the bruise. “I don’t make fun of you at all. I understand why you didn’t retaliate, and you have far more patience then me. When Afghanistan happened, I took out bad guys in a small village, nearly got myself shot out of the sky, if it wasn’t for Rhodey. If this continues you tell me, OK?” Peter nodded. “OK we have work today. I’m working on a newer mask for you one that is more breathable.”

“It’s already pretty breathable.”

“This one is to try to make it breathable underwater. Even if only for short periods of time.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“It is amazing – so let’s get started.”

And that had been the first time Peter had heard Mr. Stark promised to be here for him.

“Hey Underoos you with me?” His face was being tapped lightly.

“Hurts.” He murmured. Embarrassed and achy he buried his head into the man’s chest.

“I know Kiddo, but things are looking up. Cap said less then an hour.”

“Too long.” The child slurred. “Want now.”

“Hmm apparently you just need a fever to announce what you need.”

“What?” Peter said feeling like he should feel insulted but couldn’t place it.

“Nothing kid. They will be here soon.”

“Final question, kiddo, why Karen?”

Peter looked at him a bit dazed. “Karen?”

“Your AI, you named her Karen.”

“Oh,” Peter said slowly. Then he looked a bit sheepish, “It’s a bit stupid, but I named her after my mum. Her middle name was Karen. I just know she always wanted to watch out for me, and so did the AI.” “That’s not stupid kid “Tony said running a hand gently across the boy’s forearm. “I’m sure your mom is very proud of the name.”

Peter gave a watery smile and then leaned further against Tony Letting his eyes slide closed.

They opened to a loud raucous and Hawkeye shouting.

“Down here.” Mr. Stark yelled up.

Cap cut a hole and then dropped down into the middle of the floor. One look at the kid and he yelled up “Hawk, we need to move quick, Spiderman is very ill”.

“I told you it was urgent, and he was getting worse. Is worse.”

“I know,” Steve said, “Ice cream - chocolate, I know the codes. It’s been a while since we used them. A little surprised you used them honestly.”

Tony shrugged. They didn’t normally use this system. It was meant to keep the injured unaware of how badly things were progressing, so normally children and civilians. In this case Peter knew he was injured and that it was progressing, but Tony had wanted to protect him, even if just in this small way. The infection was bad moving into life threatening by now. “He’s fifteen.” Was all he said in response.

Steve who had met Peter as a civilian seemed to understand so he nodded and said, “You want to take him out or should I?”

“You, the alien tech messes with my suit, I’m surprised Friday worked.”

Steve nodded and reached out to a whimpering Peter gathering the kid in his arms. “Let’s go.”

He handed Peter up to Hawkeye who pulled an almost unconscious Peter out and up to the roof. Steve gave Peter a boost up and then jumped and grabbed the edges himself. Once back up Steve started to take Peter, but Tony shook his head and pulled the kid to himself. Peter curled towards him fisting a hand in his shirt. Tony soothed him till he settled.

Steve cleared his throat. ‘We should go.”

“Right.” Tony said, and they headed out of the building.

Once on the ship they moved Peter to the clinic area. Bruce was waiting with supplies.

“He going to have problems since it was alien tech? “

“Probably not. We didn’t find anything wonky in what we found.” Bruce said.

“Good then.” Tony said.

“I need to remove this but first I’m going to knock him out.” Bruce continued. Tony nodded and leaned over and explained to a feverish Peter what the situation was. But he was too out of it. Bruce hooked up some antibiotics and saline then knocked the kid out.

Peter faded in an out for a while, after the initial knock out. He heard voices and tried to call out to the people around him, but no one came. Parker luck he thought.

“What’s that spider-ling? Came a soft soothing voice, and hands that wrapped around his hand.

“Said out loud, thought said silent. Parker Luck.”

“Parker luck makes you say things you don’t mean?” Tony asked confused.

“No, it makes bad things happen.”

“So, you think by being a Parker your bad luck”? Peter nodded solemnly.“When you’re better we will discuss that. Because that is not true.”

Peter shook his head, “Is too.” He muttered childishly.

“That’s not a sound argument,” The man pulled the blankets up over him, that he’d kicked off.

‘Now rest. You’re still fighting off infection.”

“Stay?” he asked simply. “Of course.” His eyes closed, and sleep came almost instantly.

It was hours later, Tony standing at the doorway to the hospital bed. They had been back at the facility for a few hours and May was already here making a fuss over her nephew. Tony had gotten an earful for him getting hurt, not that it was his fault, not that either of them didn’t blame himself.

“How are you doing?” He asked walking it.

Peter looked up his eyes glossy. “Heya Mr. Stark.” He greeted enthusiastically.

“Well I see someone has found the morphine drip.”

“See,” Peter said holding it up proudly “You just click, and good things happen.” He murmured.

“I think you’ve had enough, he said walking around the bed and removing the pump from his hand. Peter grabbed his hand and then held it up and ran his cheek over it. “Soft Tony, warm Tony, Iron ball of fur,” he sang softly still petting himself. Tony chuckled, “You are lucky I don’t allow any recording devices in these rooms.”

“A shame really.” May chuckled, ‘He’d do anything we ask for a very long time.”

Tony grinned, “Well I practically have an idyllic memory. I’m sure the details I know would do wonders.”

May laughed the sound light, “Sorry for yelling earlier. I was just worried.” Peter now was playing with a small ball shaped item that he’s procured from May’s purse, completely distracted. “it’s understandable.”

“Maybe, but I know how much you mean to him and how much he looks up to you.”

“See, I have to look up.” Peter said face turning to Tony’s with a wide grin. “Looking up at Tony.”

“Finally get you to start calling me Tony – requires one serious infection and a morphine drip.

” “It’s the blood loss.” Peter pipped in.

“You didn’t lose that much, you called me Tony now you’re stuck with it.”

“Mr. Stark.” Peter sing songed. “Soft Mr. Stark, warm Mr. Stark…”

“Nope, won’t answer to that, not anymore”

“Hmm, I’m tired.”

“Then rest Underoos.”

May raised an eyebrow.

“I like nicknames.” Tony said. When her eyebrow went up, he said, “For other people.”

“Ah. I wonder if that’s why he calls you Mr. Stark.” May said, “It’s his nickname for you. And it annoys you so double win for him.”

“Hmmm I believe he is that clever, but he’s too consistent to be a joke.”

“You’re just Mr. Stark.” Peter mumbled from the bed nearly asleep.

“It’s OK whatever you call me Peter. Just curious why it’s Mr. Stark and not Tony.”

Peter rolled onto his side, so he could look up at him. “it’s lots of reasons honestly. I respect you. You’re my mentor. Calling you Tony feels too personal. Not that we don’t get along, just what if something happened to you. Mr. Stark is safer.” And Tony knew this was the most honest answer he would ever get from the kid on this.

“Thanks, Underoos, but feel good sleepy time is here.” He gave a gentle push to the morphine drip and then smoothed the blankets over the kid.

May and he headed out as soon as he was asleep. “You have a way with him Tony. One I haven’t seen him let be filled since Ben.”

Tony shrugged, “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t do that Tony. That kid loves you or wants to but is scared to let it be true. Today might help get him to really let himself care about you, as well, a father figure.” “Whoa, May, I’m no dad. Howard was a jerk. He…. Well he wasn’t a dad. I can be his mentor, but I can’t parent him.”

“You already are. You give him advise, punish him when he’s doing something stupid or at least threaten too, and you care about him.”

Tony wanted to protest but he did do all those things. “Right.” He said a little chocked up at the idea. “It’s a little scary how alike the kid and I are. I just can’t imagine this is a good idea” “Welcome to my world.” May said with a laugh. “But you discover more and more ways to love him as it continues.”

Tony nodded. “You are staying the night.”

May nodded. “He doesn’t like to be alone like this and probably shouldn’t be. Even with all your oversight.”

“Oh, I meant what I said earlier no recording devices allowed.”

“That’s smart. But means even more that one of us should stay with him. And since you’ve had enough shocks for a day, it will be me.”

Tony nodded, “Thanks. Have a good night and if you need anything, absolutely anything, just push the buzzer.”

“Thanks Tony, Rest well.”

Tony nodded and then headed for his lab.

When he came to Peter’s room the next day the kid was in jeans and a funny pun t- shirt. “Hey Crocket, how are you feeling?”

“I can’t be Crocket I didn’t do anything dangerous.”

“You went into a building that was half blown up, so I’m going to have to say your wrong.”

“Technicality.” Peter said with a smile.

“Seriously though, how are you feeling?”

Peter took a moment to assess then said, “I’m doing much better. The doctor said the infection is almost gone. Between modern or a little further then modern medicine and healing patterns I’m good to go. May went to pull the car around. I was going to come see you before I left, but you were here.”

“Well I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Tony took a deep breath, put his hands in his pocket and rocked a little on his feet. ‘All that stuff we said yesterday, it’s safe with me kid. You can trust me, with injuries, money trouble, school issues, hell even girl issues. I just want you to be aware that whenever you need something, I’m one of your people.”

Peter looked at him a slightly teary look, “Is that so?”

“Yep.” He popped the P.

“Ok then,” He said, then half his lip curled into a half smile, “Tony.”

Tony smiled back. “You’re going to be held to this new standard kid.”

“I know, Tony.” He said emphasizing his name. He grabbed his bag. “Well I need to meet May.”

“Yea. We meet again on Saturday. stay out of trouble.”

Peter nodded and hurried off.

Tony rocked again on his feet as he watched the kid leave. Maybe with the right kid, he really could be more than a mentor and perhaps even a dad. He smiled to himself then headed off to find the other Avengers.

[spellwrites]

all the multiples of 5 for the "hard mode" development meme!

alsdjfhaksdjfh :D

5. On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

She always has her wand on her, of course, as well as her handy dandy notebook/planner where she keeps her Lists. She’s usually got a spare quill or two, a few galleons even when she’s at Hogwarts, maybe some owl treats for Adalbert, and often some sweets.

10. Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?

Definitely more clothing. For her first years at Hogwarts, her out-of-class wardrobe consists almost entirely of nice blouses, ankle-length skirts, and a few long dresses. As the years go on, her skirts get a little shorter, she buys a few pairs of trousers, she starts branching out a bit in her style. Beginning in her sixth year, she starts to add a touch of goth to her traditionally dark academia fashion.

15. Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not?

I mean, she grew up rich in a culture where material possessions are a very important symbol of just how rich you are, and then she lost all of that in an instant when her mother kicked her out (more on that in a separate post). So she’s definitely much more aware of money and material things, and in a much different way, than most who grew up in her social class.

20. In what ways does your character compare themselves to others? Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism?

She’s very critical of herself, and even as a child she was always aware of how she compared to other children and their families. Going off the last question, she always knew how her family stacked up against the other pure-bloods in terms of money and influence: the Malfoys have more (and are therefore better) than the Selwyns; the Selwyns have more money but less influence than the Notts; everyone has more everything than the Weasleys, who hardly even count as pure-bloods anyway... stuff like that.

25. How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?

Very quick. She’s a highly suspicious person, partly because of her upbringing as the daughter of two Death Eaters and partly because, well, she herself would sell most people to Satan for one corn chip. When it’s someone she is close with, a) she’d defend them to the ends of the earth, and b) as much as she desperately wants to think better of them, she’s still insecure in her relationships and tends to assume the worst as a defense mechanism.

30. What does your character find repulsive or disgusting?

Like, extreme physical filth and grime. Sure, she’s alright with getting her hands metaphorically dirty, but if you ask her to muck around in literal dirt (outside of a controlled environment like Herbology class), she will look at you in horror.

35. How does your character behave around people they like? 

She’s a lot more open and honest with them, a lot... looser, if that makes sense. With most people, she keeps her feelings and opinions close to her chest, and she’d rather die that willingly show any vulnerability, but she’s much more comfortable just being herself around people she likes and trusts.

40. How does your character treat people in service jobs? 

Even before her Moral Awakening, she tended to treat them with kindness, especially house-elves. She was always very close with her own house-elf, Witton, and was never entirely comfortable with how horribly her parents treated him. The standard excuses -- he was lazy, he deserved to be punished if he fell behind, if they didn’t then he wouldn’t be properly motivated to do anything --  always felt... hollow to her, though she never dared bring it up with either her parents or Witton himself.

45. What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

She honestly has no idea, and it does kinda scare her. The Selwyns were never a particularly religious family. (The most religious thing they ever did was celebrate Christmas, but mainly just because it was The Thing To Do, and they stripped it of all religious significance.) Imogen likes to think there’s something after death, if only for her own comfort, and especially after the Dark Lord comes back and she has to face the possibility of her own death much sooner than she ever anticipated.

[jwartblog]

More Notes (cont.)

Notes on this further debilitation of the brain

This is me inundated in another consciousness. The reasoning is now foreign, too. It has been that way for some time, but there's less of an obvious differentiation between the way I would feel about certain topics, even in sleep state that's barely leaving unconsciousness. The only way to maintain a sense of objectivity now is largely because of the nature of the thoughts themselves. Partly the game that's played is rewarding the subject, in this case, me, with the right to healthy sleep, external peace through a decent lack of debilitating continuous sexual harassment, emotional abuse, discreet sexual and psychological assault, if I don't fight against diminishing qualitative thinking, which is preserving my identity . The continuous narcissistic drone that induces unhealthily defensive immediately rectifying mindset (of course at the expense of longterm planning and almost all deep, carefully considered thought). For instance, it continues as if there's some known secret violent, or sexually deviant behavior performed that has to come to light, of course through this style of torture. What it actually seems to be more and more is a conditional crime pre-punishment, a future-looking consequence based on inductive reasoning--ideally the crime, that, when this discreet torment has been completed, will, by its nature, have proven all of the tortuous actions taken upon me, just. But I believe this is based on a hunch that's arisen from the belief in congruence of data from a particular surveillance, even more daunting if that surveillance was coupled with conditioning by persons who would seek this outcome, the justification for that kind of surveillance and discreet torment then. This information, however,  doesn't prove the truth of any one act, only the perceived likelihood, perhaps in the court of public opinion, which isn't sufficient. The persuasion that's continuously transmitted is, in a semi-conscious state, even made to seem to be me at the gut of consciousness--i.e. what it would feel like, neuro-physiologically to think and know it's me thinkin--slyly, disarmingly persuading someone else to follow a line of thought that's anti-thesis to what I'd most like to suggest, but it may actually fit in more with what would be congruent with the evidence that supports the truth of an instance of transgression, which is what's sought after. At this point, it's really only the fact that I don't think those things, that I don't consider that content and often thus(thereby) genuinely don't like it, that confirms for me, the foreignness of it. It does tend to resemble what's described by Foucalt in Madness and Civilization when he says that power itself takes this route regardless of the people who associate themselves with it, so that all persons in those positions that act as factors in this system behave as needed to support an outcome. In that book he describes three tactics the asylum-keepers use to sedate the subject, longterm*: silencing through ex-communication, through various means, ending regular social interaction; playing to, however belittling it is and beknownst it is to the subject, their idea of grandiosity, their belief of their superiority or deep importance, the delusion that they're a high-ranking official or royalty or a celebrity, whether or not they actually really feel that way, even if they only play along to someone else's suggestion; and the third escapes me, but it believe it has something to do with thwarting immediate goals. Fear is another tactic, or some kinds of trauma tantamount to what traumatic occurrence has caused inhibition ( as flawed as that sounds), and the use of family-ties to persuade, to bring the subject to his right-mind, the definition of which is malleable as necessary like-wise, like what I had written earlier, to justify the tactics used, often what's sought is an ideal external to who the person actually is, an unchanged personality that's often only what it has to be to put loved-one's  minds at ease...for instance a person could finish school and be considered insane because e.g. school is unnatural for his ilk (by way of his new knowledge he's writes or speaks like he aims to escape himself, or belittle rather than enlighten--usually the case when there's class-transcendence, when the actual numbers for progress are lost on an insular community, the national goal of education, or how education actually relates to affluence or career success, or gives a country it's competitive edge--generally preferred-- regardless of provincial opinions about individual cases), so a community could be persuaded, by the nature of their conditioning, to right the wrong of his enlightenment, to prevent continual learning, to, as overtly illegal and unethical as it is, seal off any chance for further naturally-resulting intellectual development. The problem in 2020 is that the knowledge of these conditions and disorders are known and that increasingly that knowledge is used to mislead the unwitting or support defamation or serve as peripheral intangibles used to wrong someone, i.e. it's weaponized. So street level skullduggery graduates and with the science of thought, there is increasing certainty, less error, so that the chance for something like this, an objective document, is less and less reliable. This might not be a reliable document. There could be for instance a gradual move towards planned happenstance, that secures planned outcomes. I had mentioned the systematic prevention of enlightenment or discreet impairment of the brain as it might be used for, for instance, discrete maths, or quantum mechanics, so lineage, documented familial inclination towards higher-learning, may more and more be seen as insurance against this. Gradually I'm made to become more and more comfortable with a second presence in mind, who, before any guarantee of compensation or noticeable benefit implores me to 'get out' or 'go up' or do a myriad of things as if I can at will make those outcomes happen, or as if the fact of my being or maturation isn't in itself, right, or self-evidently wrong. What it feels like, as I've stated before is rape, a marathon of rape-marathons, that itself forcibly becomes a new norm, and I'm responsible for my own pain, guilty for being violated, guilty for being hurt or protesting the rape-marathon in any way at any given time, especially if that protest gives some semblance of respite. The idea is to simply have it stop. I would like it to stop. I have never known this to exist. It was never a reality to me. I don't want it. I have nothing to prove. I only have to become more intimate with what I'm most interested in, and this something I can do without any help. The goal is the extensive depletion of the brain, mind, and eventually everything else. The prize, I believe, is what strike a person who encounters me, what would constitute a strength, and so one might like to see me or someone, for example, lose their ability to think in the way they are accustomed to thinking, especially if it's unique or adequate, or proven. Reasons can be as malleable as they have to be, to be sure I don't pontificate or don't mull over problems in the same way. There's an urgency in disrupting creation or thought production that reminds me of poverty-stricken children battling for crumbs or pieces of food, a certain scarcity-mindedness, or zero-sum, end-game, stubbornness. The chief goal here would be sabotage for highly-personal ego-driven reasons, not reasonableness. I'm made to believe that I should make some arbitrary authority my authority where there is none, and one is certainly not wanted or needed. There are large amounts of external stimuli present around me under the guise of helping me think. What this means is a demeaning attempt to forcibly outsource responsibility, which I believe is to make me comfortable with encroachment, especially to reveal private information, even information it is illegal for me to knowingly reveal, illegal for someone to forcibly extract from me, or frame me for relinquishing. Even as thoughts or thinking can be approximated, specific thoughts are more and more echoed in media, but not as general foresight or the synchronicity-high that follows a break from the ideal, a relational dependency, what state of being and thinking would have to take place to make sufficient meaning, or the actual events as genuinely foreseen meaningful encounters, but something else, almost as if I can't think unless each thought is good enough( this bypasses the feat of controlling each thought to even close to that extent to begin with), which they can never be if they're subjectively assessed, and goodness itself has to be questioned here if thoughts are more and more produced (which they are) by some far less adequate (for what I do) external transmitter, as preposterous as this sounds, the fact that I would ever have to consider a second presence in mind as a police for any reason.

*The third here was constant references to the past--the asylum keeper would find a way to have the subject ensnared in his own past, which they could always refer to, if they've been keeping good notes, and the subject would ideally keep searching for some answer not readily given--partly due to an unkempt or unreliable memory in tandem with continual subliminal and overt cues to stop actively thinking--but instigated by past psychologically unresolved occurrences that are constantly urgently alluded to, one by one, until a certainty is achieved that further sedates the subject. Non-empowering recollection.

More and more, in the morning and at other times, like in Iowa, in the morning, a foreign personality takes over, in the same way a foreign laugh did then,  a foreign consciousness, for instance what would be the way I would seem to go in a more generically paternalistic manner (and also paternalism or masculinity as brutishness, manliness as primitiveness), a voice less fluid, a word selection accounts for less nuance, which is even less refined than the initial incapacitation of the basal ganglia, other parts of the brain responsible for high level processing of concepts and a usual work-history-consistent manner of contemplation: what would work for flavors of contemplation, art-thinking for art-writing. More and more the spine is the outermost protruding part of skeleton behind me, the skull is continually pushed forward, the trapezoids are tightened and forced high along with my shoulders (to sit at the top of my torso not at the sides) and ass is coached to increasingly remain tucked under, the back is therefore elongated and bows outward like a bulldog where it approaches the neck, a layman's cognitive consonance is expected to result from daily nudging to escape yourself, to 'leave your head,' as if leaning forward, an animalistic lean is what would make a person more himself. The overall goal is to completely disrupt bodily coordination. What this means, partly, is a conscious operation of the body to replace what should be thought-work, contemplation for interests and work, and other activities. The faculties are increasingly disrupted. Increasingly, simultaneously aptitude is compromised and replaced, the rate of intellectual growth is slowed, the quality of it increasingly less valuable, originality is directly minimalized as a result, and were-withal for self-propulsion is increasingly made voluntary. The base-work of easy recollection, long and short term reflection, sign-creation, visualization, is forcibly outsourced, and all of it to mock all thought-processing as a means, itself, the reality of that depletion, to distract from an initial crucial loss of deep-meaningful consideration gained over time, through encounters, close-study, long-term deep careful-contemplation of the best that can be thought, for itself, it's own sake and as a foundation for future application. The brain is continually attacked, continually made to be atrophied object, as stated before, increasingly cadaver-centric. The body carries a head, an near-dead extremity, not a center. I'm made to reach, to partly consider at least as a fleeting thought the idea of my brain, my body and mind being diminished to enhance another life, of course, a life that hasn't worked for that reward and who boastfully will not compensate me for that depletion. The game here, as stated before, is to make a person believe many people are hiding from anonymous machine that doesn't know who I am, and only plays to a person's ego (therefore a shameful thing to admit to being bothered by), their idea that this machine is referring to them and not some collective. The ego is conflated with thinking itself, it means to make the case that thinking, especially high-level thinking, or the way an educated person normally would think about his world, is only meant to nurture the ego. There's a lull in the machine's operation for continued thought-work and contemplation, but this is only to create the illusion of an order within this terror, and one the subject should subscribe to, an authority, where it would be most troublesome to a power-monger to not have one, where there should be none, a whip for thought where no whip is needed, an eye and narcissistic cloud for each thought, even after a major collapse of the faculties, the urgent establishment of an authority where it would only worsen not improve work. For every thought, there's it's counter-thought, but not the specifically tailored counter-thought I'd employ to help me gain and retain healthy objectivity. Another game that's repeated here is the idea of inevitable competition, and a naturally occurring inevitable authority over that for the quality of thought a person possesses, logic with every thought, which is not my goal, and not desirable to me. By it's sheer presence, the authority expects forfeiture of sovereignty, not its own death. All of this is not the same as the carefully-tailored thinking I or any person might develop over time, that I have developed over time,  the specific way of dealing with people I've cultivated over time (both fallible but uniquely fallible), that's particular to me. This is an externally-orchestrated intrusion on internal space, that can easily be made to seem like an internally-originating mental breakdown. There's a narcissistic drone, that of course works against what it means to administrate over which is the worst of egotistic impulses, the most publicly despised by the most people, but this is accompanied by continuous manipulation of bodily sensations, neuro-physiology and even thought production. What this could easily appear to be to some unwitting person watching is a person struggling with undesirable impulses and characteristics, a person who needs professional help. For instance, if an external presence is forcibly coaching a person to think of murder, in tandem with manipulating the brain, mind and body to viscerally feel that impulse at gut level, that external presence, now internally situated, would taunt or shame a person for even thinking along those lines which would be especially difficult to manage for a person who clings to moral standards. This person witting could perform a myriad of exercises to regain equilibrium, perhaps include that in a daily routine, but a person unwitting could be tragically set back by this constant shaming, which could erode at their form, their freedom amid granted societal freedoms, inalienable rights, or slavery amid all of the resources available for assuring freedom. The shaming would exacerbate impulse, which could lead to impulse-fulfillment. It means to diminish all strengths and not as germaine to some lesson or attempt to target someone else, and it means to outsource all thinking, all facility with various functions, all of the faculties, that are healthy and in some cases above-average.  

[ousamma]

Addiction to Fame and Celebrity

Question:

Are Narcissists addicted to being famous?

Answer:

You bet. This, by far, is their predominant drive. Being famous encompasses a few important functions: it endows the narcissist with power, provides him with a constant Source of Narcissistic Supply (admiration, adoration, approval, awe), and fulfils important Ego functions.

The image that the narcissist projects is hurled back at him, reflected by those exposed to his celebrity or fame. This way he feels alive, his very existence is affirmed and he acquires a sensation of clear boundaries (where the narcissist ends and the world begins).

There is a set of narcissistic behaviours typical to the pursuit of celebrity. There is almost nothing that the narcissist refrains from doing, almost no borders that he hesitates to cross to achieve renown. To him, there is no such thing as "bad publicity" – what matters is to be in the public eye.

Because the narcissist equally enjoys all types of attention and likes as much to be feared as to be loved, for instance – he doesn't mind if what is published about him is wrong ("as long as they spell my name correctly"). The narcissist's only bad emotional stretches are during periods of lack of attention, publicity, or exposure.

The narcissist then feels empty, hollowed out, negligible, humiliated, wrathful, discriminated against, deprived, neglected, treated unjustly and so on. At first, he tries to obtain attention from ever narrowing groups of reference ("supply scale down"). But the feeling that he is compromising gnaws at his anyhow fragile self-esteem.

Sooner or later, the spring bursts. The narcissist plots, contrives, plans, conspires, thinks, analyses, synthesises and does whatever else is necessary to regain the lost exposure in the public eye. The more he fails to secure the attention of the target group (always the largest) – the more daring, eccentric and outlandish he becomes. Firm decision to become known is transformed into resolute action and then to a panicky pattern of attention seeking behaviours.

The narcissist is not really interested in publicity per se. Narcissists are misleading. The narcissist appears to love himself – and, really, he abhors himself. Similarly, he appears to be interested in becoming a celebrity – and, in reality, he is concerned with the REACTIONS to his fame: people watch him, notice him, talk about him, debate his actions – therefore he exists.

The narcissist goes around "hunting and collecting" the way the expressions on people's faces change when they notice him. He places himself at the centre of attention, or even as a figure of controversy. He constantly and recurrently pesters those nearest and dearest to him in a bid to reassure himself that he is not losing his fame, his magic touch, the attention of his social milieu.

Truly, the narcissist is not choosy. If he can become famous as a writer – he writes, if as a businessman – he conducts business. He switches from one field to the other with ease and without remorse because in all of them he is present without conviction, bar the conviction that he must (and deserves to) get famous.

He grades activities, hobbies and people not according to the pleasure that they give him – but according to their utility: can they or can't they make him known and, if so, to what extent. The narcissist is one-track minded (not to say obsessive). His is a world of black (being unknown and deprived of attention) and white (being famous and celebrated).

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mistreating Celebrities - An Interview

Granted to Superinteressante Magazine in Brazil

Q. Fame and TV shows about celebrities usually have a huge audience. This is understandable: people like to see other successful people. But why people like to see celebrities being humiliated?

A. As far as their fans are concerned, celebrities fulfil two emotional functions: they provide a mythical narrative (a story that the fan can follow and identify with) and they function as blank screens onto which the fans project their dreams, hopes, fears, plans, values, and desires (wish fulfilment). The slightest deviation from these prescribed roles provokes enormous rage and makes us want to punish (humiliate) the "deviant" celebrities.

But why?

When the human foibles, vulnerabilities, and frailties of a celebrity are revealed, the fan feels humiliated, "cheated", hopeless, and "empty". To reassert his self-worth, the fan must establish his or her moral superiority over the erring and "sinful" celebrity. The fan must "teach the celebrity a lesson" and show the celebrity "who's boss". It is a primitive defense mechanism - narcissistic grandiosity. It puts the fan on equal footing with the exposed and "naked" celebrity.

Q. This taste for watching a person being humiliated has something to do with the attraction to catastrophes and tragedies?

A. There is always a sadistic pleasure and a morbid fascination in vicarious suffering. Being spared the pains and tribulations others go through makes the observer feel "chosen", secure, and virtuous. The higher celebrities rise, the harder they fall. There is something gratifying in hubris defied and punished.

Q. Do you believe the audience put themselves in the place of the reporter (when he asks something embarrassing to a celebrity) and become in some way revenged?

A. The reporter "represents" the "bloodthirsty" public. Belittling celebrities or watching their comeuppance is the modern equivalent of the gladiator rink. Gossip used to fulfil the same function and now the mass media broadcast live the slaughtering of fallen gods. There is no question of revenge here - just Schadenfreude, the guilty joy of witnessing your superiors penalized and "cut down to size".

Q. In your country, who are the celebrities people love to hate?

A. Israelis like to watch politicians and wealthy businessmen reduced, demeaned, and slighted. In Macedonia, where I live, all famous people, regardless of their vocation, are subject to intense, proactive, and destructive envy. This love-hate relationship with their idols, this ambivalence, is attributed by psychodynamic theories of personal development to the child's emotions towards his parents. Indeed, we transfer and displace many negative emotions we harbor onto celebrities.

Q. I would never dare asking some questions the reporters from Panico ask the celebrities. What are the characteristics of people like these reporters?

A. Sadistic, ambitious, narcissistic, lacking empathy, self-righteous, pathologically and destructively envious, with a fluctuating sense of self-worth (possibly an inferiority complex).

6. Do you believe the actors and reporters want themselves to be as famous as the celebrities they tease? Because I think this is almost happening...

A. The line is very thin. Newsmakers and newsmen and women are celebrities merely because they are public figures and regardless of their true accomplishments. A celebrity is famous for being famous. Of course, such journalists will likely to fall prey to up and coming colleagues in an endless and self-perpetuating food chain...

7. I think that the fan-celebrity relationship gratifies both sides. What are the advantages the fans get and what are the advantages the celebrities get?

A. There is an implicit contract between a celebrity and his fans. The celebrity is obliged to "act the part", to fulfil the expectations of his admirers, not to deviate from the roles that they impose and he or she accepts. In return the fans shower the celebrity with adulation. They idolize him or her and make him or her feel omnipotent, immortal, "larger than life", omniscient, superior, and sui generis (unique).

What are the fans getting for their trouble?

Above all, the ability to vicariously share the celebrity's fabulous (and, usually, partly confabulated) existence. The celebrity becomes their "representative" in fantasyland, their extension and proxy, the reification and embodiment of their deepest desires and most secret and guilty dreams. Many celebrities are also role models or father/mother figures. Celebrities are proof that there is more to life than drab and routine. That beautiful - nay, perfect - people do exist and that they do lead charmed lives. There's hope yet - this is the celebrity's message to his fans.

The celebrity's inevitable downfall and corruption is the modern-day equivalent of the medieval morality play. This trajectory - from rags to riches and fame and back to rags or worse - proves that order and justice do prevail, that hubris invariably gets punished, and that the celebrity is no better, neither is he superior, to his fans.

8. Why are celebrities narcissists? How is this disorder born?

No one knows if pathological narcissism is the outcome of inherited traits, the sad result of abusive and traumatizing upbringing, or the confluence of both. Often, in the same family, with the same set of parents and an identical emotional environment - some siblings grow to be malignant narcissists, while others are perfectly "normal". Surely, this indicates a genetic predisposition of some people to develop narcissism.

It would seem reasonable to assume - though, at this stage, there is not a shred of proof - that the narcissist is born with a propensity to develop narcissistic defenses. These are triggered by abuse or trauma during the formative years in infancy or during early adolescence. By "abuse" I am referring to a spectrum of behaviors which objectify the child and treat it as an extension of the caregiver (parent) or as a mere instrument of gratification. Dotting and smothering are as abusive as beating and starving. And abuse can be dished out by peers as well as by parents, or by adult role models.

Not all celebrities are narcissists. Still, some of them surely are.

We all search for positive cues from people around us. These cues reinforce in us certain behaviour patterns. There is nothing special in the fact that the narcissist-celebrity does the same. However there are two major differences between the narcissistic and the normal personality.

The first is quantitative. The normal person is likely to welcome a moderate amount of attention – verbal and non-verbal – in the form of affirmation, approval, or admiration. Too much attention, though, is perceived as onerous and is avoided. Destructive and negative criticism is avoided altogether.

The narcissist, in contrast, is the mental equivalent of an alcoholic. He is insatiable. He directs his whole behaviour, in fact his life, to obtain these pleasurable titbits of attention. He embeds them in a coherent, completely biased, picture of himself. He uses them to regulates his labile (fluctuating) sense of self-worth and self-esteem.

To elicit constant interest, the narcissist projects on to others a confabulated, fictitious version of himself, known as the False Self. The False Self is everything the narcissist is not: omniscient, omnipotent, charming, intelligent, rich, or well-connected.

The narcissist then proceeds to harvest reactions to this projected image from family members, friends, co-workers, neighbours, business partners and from colleagues. If these – the adulation, admiration, attention, fear, respect, applause, affirmation – are not forthcoming, the narcissist demands them, or extorts them. Money, compliments, a favourable critique, an appearance in the media, a sexual conquest are all converted into the same currency in the narcissist's mind, into "narcissistic supply".

So, the narcissist is not really interested in publicity per se or in being famous. Truly he is concerned with the REACTIONS to his fame: how people watch him, notice him, talk about him, debate his actions. It "proves" to him that he exists.

The narcissist goes around "hunting and collecting" the way the expressions on people's faces change when they notice him. He places himself at the centre of attention, or even as a figure of controversy. He constantly and recurrently pesters those nearest and dearest to him in a bid to reassure himself that he is not losing his fame, his magic touch, the attention of his social milieu.

[longstoryshortikilledhim]

Your top/bottom! Hux ideas concerning your fics were so interesting. Have you got any headcanons for kylo? I'm just asking bc I really love your rens lol and I can't get that ~you don't fuck like a nice guy ~ part from wild honey out of my head

Let’s see the other side of the coin, then! :D [The ”is Hux a top/bottom” post is here, explaining that I don’t give too much significance to it, because I think it’s just a preferance.]

I’m really happy to learn that you liked that sentence in Wild Honey, and I think it sums up what happens to him in that fic. He’s still Ben; he’s trying to be a good boy, and he’s been holding back with his previous partners. (There were probably like, two-three of them.) He’s self-conscious about everything he says or does or how he looks like, so his snarkiness is a sort of defense-mechanism. Hux makes him let go and embrace his Kylo-ness, the identity he’s been repressing. When Ben goes to the date, he expects to get something from Hux, and he’s ready to settle for anything thrown at him, basically, a pity handjob or a sorry makout would do. But he gets so much more: he realises he can be himself with Hux - the very self he’s been denying - and this identity wants to take. It’s consensual, it’s fun, but it’s also hungry and desperate and very much about self-discovery and power. 

In Bohemian Rhapsody, we don’t learn much about Kylo’s sexual history, but we do learn two imporant things: one, he knew he was gay by the time he was six, and his family was very open about it; two, he’s romantic to the bone. My headcanon for the fic was that he had mad crushes during his teenage years, but probably on persons who were unattainable: older than him, totally straight, or simply not interested. When he was still Ben, he was kind of mazohistic in this regard, and subconsciously seeked out rejection as a form of self-punishment for his (real or imagined) failures as a son, grandson, student or musician. 

Once his early teenage angst years were mostly over and he was around 16-19, he actively seeked out romantic partners for long-term relationships, but his relationships ended within a few months/weeks, partly because he started to take them much too seriously for his age. At this point he already started  rejecting Luke and Leia and fancied himself the ‘head of the family,’ the guardian of his grandfather - he was basically looking for husband material. He imagined his future in Amsterdam, living in a joint apartment with Anakin, having a lovely husband and maybe a cat; they’d all live happily ever after. He was anxious to make this future attainable so I think he was overeager and suited himself to his partner’s needs, whether they wanted him to top or to bottom, and he was quick to idolise them and declare that They Are The One only to be disappointed later.

When Anakin dies, there’s a period of grief when Ben doesn’t allow himself any sort of joy or pleasure. He’s sent to work with Luke, and his grief slowly gives way to repressed anger. First he’s masturbating excessively, having no desire to have any sort of human connection, and being closed off from the rest of the world. Then he hooks up with a male nurse from the charity and they become fuckbuddies, which lasts until Ben becomes too… Kylo, and the nurse asks him never to contact him again. He escapes to Prague a few weeks later. He’s spent three months there, having time to sort of cool down and work through his issues, but his dry spell is getting on his nerves - nevertheless, he can’t really trust his attraction to Hux at first. Then he’s quick to confess his love because he’s overjoyed that his Big Romantic Dreams he had given up on might just come true. I don’t think he gave too much thought to topping or bottoming. He’d have had Hux any way.

A similar pattern of maturing is present in Psychomachia: he throws himself at Hux, and he’s over-eager to please him at first, not even daring to top because he’s too afraid he’d mess it up - then he gains confidence, and more importantly, his relationship with Hux becomes less of an obsession and more like a trusting, two-way relationship, so although he panics the first time Hux asks him to top, he starts to prefer it. 

In the Suit Porn AU, I think Kylo doesn’t really question his position. He’s my most experienced Kylo, and based on his previous experiences, he came to the conclusion that everybody wants him to top: he’s massive and he’s very much in charge, he looks like and acts like a stereotypical top; furthermore, he has a preference to the twinky type. (Of course, twinks can totally top, but Kylo’s been more successful at wooking the submissive type.) He’s really pleasently surprised by how bossy Hux is, and he enjoys being ordered around by him, because no one really dared to do this to him before. They find great pleasure in breaking stereotypes and challenging each other. I’m sure Kylo will start fantasizing about Hux topping on Special Occasions pretty soon.

In conclusion, although I like varying headcanons for Hux, my Kylos are all like “I don’t give a damn as long as I get to touch you.” (Although it’s high time I’ve written him as bi/pan.)

[siedhr]

Very good analysis.

I'd like to add:

1 - For Jungkook, the kpop industry, the training, the press and the fans, have a cruel way of destroying self-esteem. All the BTS boys have self-esteem issues. Think of the kind of feed-back they get, the comments that forgive nothing, not their skills and not their bodies. How they are asked to cater to a million opinions, their own being punished. It is not an environment that fosters healthy mirroring, that promotes adaptability without sacrificing the self and maturity.

Kook was very shy to begin with, his 13 year-old self pretty fragile and unformed. I know everyone makes a great deal of his Burn the Stage quote, of him being a composite of his 6 hyungs, but it's actually a sad and painful reality. The older 6 have big issues of their own and they were also half-children. It was love and grit and self-awareness that saved all of them. Kook is also very much still immature for his age.

2- For Yoongi, he used to affect a bit of Western masculinity in the past, explainable as a teenager, similar to Namjoon, but with a lighter touch and more humor. It was performative and inspired partly by the hip-hop culture they both admired. In fact, that type of performative masculinity was probably one if the reasons they got into it in the first place. Along with the rebelious spirit, the rawness, the authenticity etc.

Of course, they grew up, found their own voices etc.

That being said, the interpretation is the eye of the beholder, as he himself has said. He didn't project as much toughness as the fandom seems to think, but most of the fans are young and inexperienced in actually living. So most of his projection are signs of trauma, anxiety and depression. As Caro said, a defense mechanism that both repels and attracts. He is healing though.

3 - As George Clooney said, stars seem to freeze their growth at the moment they become famous. I have hopes that it won't affect the boys so much.

Two biggest mysteries: 1) why does jungkook always downplay his achievements and hardwork? 2) why does yoongi try to project himself as the tough, manly type?

1) JK actually used to be more eager to show off his talent and skill. He was inspired by and looked up to GD who’s been notoriously hardworking, overachieving, and liked to display what he can do and who he is creatively. Iron Man style, same principle. Later on, JK said that the entire scope of stardom changed him, and realized how small he was. I think that he matured parallel to GD who detailed similar identity/existence realizations in “Kwon Jiyong”. Both stated that they feel very lonely. Loneliness makes you humble and grateful. It’s no coincidence that GD’s tour was called MOTTE (모태 = embryo/the mother’s womb). This is all about going back to where you began, the safe spot where you are protected just by being yourself. For JK, it’s reversing to when he was still insignificant in this world, too, just a guy from Busan. He’s aware of what he achieved, but doesn’t broadcast it over the top nowadays. It doesn’t mean he’s not happy about what he can do or thinks of himself as lesser. His focus now is on what he can improve, not being “the best, the greatest” etc. 

2) Yoongi’s way into adolescence was extremely rocky. He was suicidal, he was poor, he had a hard time getting his music out there. Would he not have been stoic and tough-minded, he either would have died of hunger or took his own life. When you live at the edge, what shields you is going to stay with you to a certain degree. You are used to needing this mechanism. You expect the same hardships coming around the corner again and again. I don’t think this connects to manliness, it’s just that toughness is associated with guys. In his case it’s about getting from one day to the other. Anybody who’s poor, mentally ill, isolated, and unloved can build a barrier like that, especially when growing up when you are even more vulnerable. What adds to it is that Yoongi is sensitive and has proven himself to be overtly giving, precisely because he knows how it’s like to live in scarcity. There’s nothing wrong with it per se, just the people who take advantage of Yoongi being like that. The barrier is geared towards fending off those people but can also lock out others he cares about but has no learned way of reaching out to them. The good news are, he’s catching up on that recently, BTS and their energy are a good influence, better than what happened in his youth.

[ghiraheeheeheem]

I'd kind of like to expand on that thing with rape jokes, just, hear me out for a moment. According to every psychological study, if we are to move past something we must be able to encounter it regularly and pulling back from it actually increases the damage, now obviously with something that severe, jokes shouldn't be the first thing, and I personally will never make a rape joke, it's far too difficult to make one, anything I would make would definitely come off as insulting and I would feel--

ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE over that. I suppose a better way of putting it isn’t jokes are the coping mechanism but humor, the actual ability to laugh is the coping mechanism. Of course they’re also a bonding mechanism as well, but it is one of the main things humor can do, I mean, if you look at war stories soldiers in the most terrible positions make jokes about their stuff. It isn’t for everyone, and some people need much more gentle touch ESPECIALLY with something that serious. 

I’m just trying to point out it isn’t wrong to laugh at a joke no matter how horrible the joke may be. Because it is a joke. I get where you can call it desensitization, and there are times I believe that is definitely a legitimate statement, that it IS desensitizing and we CERTAINLY shouldn’t make these jokes standard, but I also believe adults can identify the difference between something said in a comedic area and something said in a serious tone, but there’s times and places for these things. 

Just don’t say because you like or make this kind of joke that means you don’t care or there is something wrong with a person as that post implied, just as there isn’t something wrong with you if you don’t laugh and feel offended. Different strokes for different folks. 

Rape is something incredibly traumatic, it is a devastating thing, and it takes a long and slow recovery. This is something that does cause LEGITIMATE PTSD so it is something that needs to be warned. I’m really just saying liking OR hating rape jokes does not make someone bad, immoral, or humorless. Your post asked why rape jokes are funny, so I wanted to give an answer. 

I think perhaps… we should put the concept (rape jokes) in terms of the context (our culture). As an anthropologist, and yes, I have a degree and everything, I think the reason that many consider and push for rape jokes to be more taboo is because of the prevalence of the problem. 

It’s not something that we see all the time in the headlines perhaps, because the nature of rapes makes them not often reported, or not reported immediately. And even when they are, it’s usually not enough of a story to make papers, or it is kept on the down low for privacy reasons. It’s not murder for instance where word spreads quickly and openly. What I’m trying to say is… when rapes happen, you don’t usually hear about it. And as a result, it is not recognized as being as much of a problem as it is. 

I could probably write a book about all the problems we culturally have regarding rape. Problems with rapists not being held accountable or punished harshly for such a serious crime, problems with how we view the victims (e.g. she was asking for/wanted it OR he should have just enjoyed it), problems that stem from covert and enculturated sexism within our culture. Cans and cans and cans of worms that all result in rape being prevalent while being dismissed as either not frequent, not serious, or both by a frightening percentage of the population.

Now… I think murder is also a very serious and very devastating crime. But people joke about killing people, don’t they? Well murder isn’t as prevalent of a problem culturally speaking. People are afraid of being murdered, sure, but it is much less of an omnipresent threat as that of being raped. And in the unlikely event that someone DOES get murdered, people will certainly not question whether it was deserved. It will be taken very seriously. No one will ask the victim’s family if the victim ever had suicidal thoughts or made comments about wanting to die. We don’t see murder as something that can be justified culturally.  (It’s not a perfect analogy. You can’t rape someone in self defense. Rape is a unique circumstance and it is difficult to find a perfect parallel.)

So why am I bringing all this information to the table? What difference does it make what the cultural perception of rape is compared to that of murder? Well, the harm that comes of it. 

There is the matter of prevalence. If you make a joke about rape, it is FAR more likely to be heard by a rape survivor or a rapist than it is to be heard by a murderer or someone who has suffered a loss from a murder. Partly because there aren’t as many murders and partly because generally people who murder are locked up for a very long time.

Then there is the matter of impact… See the thing is… you and I know rape is atrocious. A lot of people do. But… because of the cultural perception of rape, there are a lot of people who do NOT recognize it as atrocious. To you and I it’s not a gray line. It is black and white. Rape is wrong, no doubt about it. But to a lot of people the line is fuzzier. Depends on what the victim was doing/wearing/etc. It depends on if the attacker was under the influence. Some people honestly don’t think it’s that big of a deal at all. You want proof? Just look at the things politicians have said about rape. And politicians of all people, because if they justified murder or theft the same way they justify rape, how long do you think they would last in office?

And that’s really what it comes down to. That’s the point I’m trying to get at. Because to too many people in this culture, rape is not taken seriously. And that’s why joking about it causes legitimate harm. Because to those people who already don’t think it’s a big deal, joking about it re-enforces what they already believe. That it’s not a big deal. And validating to them that others feel  the same way. 

On the flipside, turning to them and saying “Hey, that’s not funny. You shouldn’t joke about that.” Tells them they are among people who DO take it seriously. So seriously that it’s not even okay to joke about. And if it happens enough, the people who don’t take rape seriously will start to realize that they are the outsiders. It’s not enough on it’s own to change the whole problem, but it’s a step in the right direction. It’s like recycling. Every bit helps. And bonus, you aren’t upsetting rape survivors who may be in the vicinity without you realizing.

I hope someday we live in a world where rape is so scarce and taken so seriously in reality that we can joke about it. Really I do. Joking about rape is not objectively bad. It is only bad in the context of the culture that we live in. And until such a time that it is no longer as big of a problem as it is, I think we are right to call it offensive, inconsiderate, and harmful.

Let me know if you feel this did not address your points.

[audreycritter]

:o CAN YOU TALK TO ME ABOUT THE BATFAMILY AND TRAUMA because it feels like this is a subject in which you have a great deal of knowledge

Okay, I could talk for hours about this, honestly. There are so many lettered disorders that fit the Batfamily (OCD, RAD, FAS, SPD, PTSD, ASD, plus bipolar, depression, anxiety, insomnia, etc) and they can all be the RESULT of trauma or the result of innate brain structure. There’s so much that I’m actually tempted to write a few essays about it. But for the sake of answering the ask, I’ll hit a few major points and I am 100% open to questions/more specific asks.

Canon is a mess, obviously, but there are some things that either consistently track or show up regularly in fanon for each character. I think first we need to differentiate the kinds of trauma each character has experienced because both the type of and duration of the event and the age at which it’s experienced can make a difference.

Bruce and Dick both are portrayed as having loving, stable parents and backgrounds that were taken from them by abrupt violence. This means that they have event-based trauma like PTSD or other things that it can trigger but they do not have chronic or infancy-related brain damage (because this, essentially, is what most trauma is: brain damage). The age at which they were exposed was mid-adolescence so there are many crucial developmental stages that the probably hit appropriately.

Tim, while born into a home with money, is written as often neglected emotionally which is an important detail. Meeting physical needs does not prevent trauma when there is gross emotional neglect. If there is one stable caregiver, like Alfred with Bruce, it can resolve (to some degree) a missing parent even if there is bitterness or hurt. But with a rotation of attachments of varying interests or levels, the reality is that there are going to be long-term attachment issues. The kind of trauma that missing attachment creates in the brain can have all kinds of affects and trouble regulating sleep is one of them. It’s highly likely, in the context of realistic trauma depiction, that Tim’s coffee habit, sleep troubles, and anxiety predate his tenure as Robin and are rooted in the lack of attachment to a consistent caregiver. When a child’s emotional needs are not met, they often have trouble regulating themselves and in some personalities this results in the physical component of difficulty recognizing a need for sleep, water, or food or seeking them at odd times/in crisis states.

Cass, my darling. There is a very fundamental danger in separation from a mother at birth. Even infants experience grief and to be separated from the smells and sounds of the womb even within minutes or days of delivery severs the first and most basic attachment. This is why even children adopted at birth can have attachment issues, even if they are very mild in a loving adoptive home. But to be separated from a mother and then raised in a home with minimal language or comfort (remember, she tells Bruce, “he never held me” as far as her memory goes) does two things that are present in Cassandra Cain’s story. Children with that kind of physical and mental trauma often have sensory issues with input, so when Cass doesn’t react to pain the same way the others do, it might be that her brain actually doesn’t register pain. A common presentation of this is that actual pain (a broken arm, a deep cut) go unnoticed for hours while a soft hand on the back or a gentle tap are perceived as deeply painful. The other thing the absence of spoken language/dialogue does is affect memory. Memory storage relies heavily on repetitive recollection and the strongest positive/neutral memories are the ones that are discussed and shared. Her childhood, the most traumatic memories aside, is likely a blur or a composite.

Jason. Ooh, boy. Because his return is (relatively) recent and there are three separate but very strong iterations of him, I’m going to focus on his character pre-death just for this. Partly because we’re told the Lazarus Pit changed things significantly for him and each of the current versions have very different, equally valid explanations. So, pre-death, he’s a bit of a punk. We know that he dealt with, like Cassandra, a separation from his birth mom in infancy and then Catherine’s drug problems and Willis’ instability probably worsened those things instead of helping to heal them. Children with reactive attachment disorder and early trauma often have issues with cause and effect, appropriately placed blame, and emotional illiteracy coupled with stress hormone overdrive resulting in explosive anger and deep self-hatred/mistrust. They often pendulum swing between self-blame (“I’m an awful person, I don’t deserve anything, everyone hates me”) and violent shows of external blame (“this is all your fault! You just like to punish me!”). The problem is that with the missing cause and effect cycle and the high stress state of the brain, this means that most things that make the child even mildly uncomfortable are perceived as massive threats AND misappropriately blamed. For example, a child with a healthy brain may forget to do their homework and if the parent asks in the morning about it, may feel slight panic or annoyance in response. A child with RAD might snap: everything is stupid, nobody cares, this is all YOUR FAULT. They may throw or break things or storm off and then defend themselves with “you MADE me do that!” Decisions made to protect or help the child can be interpreted as threats or hate.

Okay, Damian. While it might seem like he is the most traumatized of the lot (and in some ways he is), he also has the benefit of being with Talia and Talia genuinely caring for him. She holds him, she talks to him, etc. It does important things for his brain. Unfortunately, he also has massive physical abuse and the war zone/refugee stress of being forced into dealing with adult violence and adult decisions while he is still small and developing. This is why he seems more mature for his age– he has huge social and emotional gaps as a result. His trauma means that his brain likely considers every input a threat, resulting in massively high stress hormones, chronic exhaustion, and defensive anger. Everything he does is coded as a survival mechanism.

Stephanie Brown! I’m guessing that she is dealing with some form of Fetal Alcohol/Drug Syndrome as well as basic neglect. Inconsistent care is dangerous because the cause and effect pattern in an infant’s brain is disrupted (healthy: baby cries, is fed and changed; unhealthy, baby cries, is SOMETIMES fed or changed– baby learns that crying doesn’t mean much and everything seems arbitrary). FAS means that there is physical brain damage she’s probably had to learn to route around, so mild learning delays. She isn’t stupid but she has to work twice as hard to retain the same academic things others do. Because of the cause and effect gap, she probably has a loose innate grasp of how dangerous things are. I’m guessing if she hadn’t gotten into crimefighting, she’d either be a thrill-junkie or have the reputation as being “wild” even though in basic self-care like sleep and food she’s very self-regulated and responsible. When Bruce or Tim tell her things are dangerous or beyond her skill set, it is probably not just her bravery at work– they might actually have accurate assessments that she cannot and does not see, but through sheer luck, force of will, or discipline she’s managed to escape more severe consequences. That isn’t to say that she isn’t good at what she does, just that she might actually NOT consider the worst-case (or even likely case) scenario when attempting something.

I could go on for hours– there are so many aspects of each of these that I haven’t even touched on but this is getting super long, so I should probably divide it up!

[star-anise]

So. I’m currently reading Arrows of the Queen, by Mercedes Lackey, since it was finally released on audiobook this year. Re-reading, in fact; reading these books as a 31-year-old therapist instead of a starry-eyed 13-year-old. 

I ranted the other night about the book's depiction of Elspeth as "spoiled" instead of "abused", and @feathersescapism (as part of the post's excellent and thoughtful contributions) said this about Mercedes Lackey:

It’s so effing messy for me because like on the one hand she saved my life. She was the VERY first place I saw loving, validated, celebrated queer relationships and ironically Vanyel was the first time I saw an example of someone who was angry and hurt and messy and bad at people and bullied but not a passive victim be portrayed as fundamentally loveable. As in fact valuable enough, worthy enough to be PURSUED, even, to have someone make the effort to get past his hostile defense behaviors. That was priceless to me. Unfortunately it’s like….it was water when I was dying of thirst but it turns out it was water laced with heavy metals that then did a lot of long term damage.

Which is partly just a concentration thing; if you are drinking from many wells, having one be poisoned won't damage you as much overall. But if it's your only source of water, even trace amounts get dangerous. And, well, we were Eighties babies, mentally ill queer kids with access to small-town libraries who ducked guidance counsellors who pushed conformity as the path to happiness.

So I just found a scene that I think really shows that Lackey was writing from a specifically 80s understanding of psychology, before we knew almost anything about trauma; as considered today, it's bad practice on multiple levels, and can point to some of the underlying problems with the Valdemar worldview.

TW child abuse, child neglect

So in this part of the book, 13-year-old Talia, who was rescued from her awful abusive life among the Holderkin by a giant magical horse, is settling into her new life as a Herald-trainee. She attends classes during the day, and then sleeps in her own room in a dormitory wing of her fellow trainees. Her teachers know that she displays all the symptoms of an abused child, and that she's from an extremely insular and rigid culture.

Her teacher, Teren, asks her to stay after class, and she does, wary and panicked because she doesn't know what's going on. He explains that the Heralds sent a letter back to her family to explain that her disappearance was because of the magical horse choosing her as a future Herald, and they get half-taxes that year and she's going to be very important. Her family, however, replies to say only, "Sensholding has no daughter Talia." Because she ran away instead of staying and getting married, she is disobedient and bad, and therefore totally shunned by her entire community.

She didn't realize she was weeping until a single hot tear splashed on the paper, blurring the ink. She regained control of herself immediately, swallowing down the tears. [...] It was odd, but when she'd chosen to run away, their certain excommunication hadn't seemed so great a price to pay for freedom; but somehow now, after all her hopes for forgiveness had been raised only to be destroyed by this one note-- Never mind; once again she was on her own--and Herald Teren would hardly approve of her sniveling over the situation. "It's all right," she said, handing back the note to the Herald. "I should have expected it." She was proud that her voice only trembled a little, and that she was able to meet his eyes squarely. Teren was startled and slightly alarmed; not at her reaction to the note, but by her immediate iron-willed suppression of it. This was not a healthy response. She should have allowed herself the weakness of tears; any child her age should have. Instead, she was holding back, turning further into herself. He tried, tentatively, to call those tears back to the surface where they belonged. Such suppression of natural feelings could only mean deep emotional turmoil later--and would only serve as one more brick in the wall the child had placed between herself and the others around her. "I wish there was something I could do to help." Teren was exceedingly distressed and tried to show that he was as much distressed at the child's denial of her own grief as with the situation itself. "I can't understand why they should have replied like this." If he could just get her to at least admit that the situation made her unhappy, he would have an opening wedge in getting her to trust him. [...] "I'm going to be late--" Talia winced away from the outheld hand and ran, wishing Teren had been less sympathetic. He'd brought her tears perilously close to the surface again. She'd wanted, above all other things, to break down and cry on his shoulder. But--no. She didn't dare. When kith and kin could deny her so completely, what might not strangers do, especially if she exposed her weaknesses? And Heralds were supposed to be self-sufficient, self-reliant. She would not show that she was unworthy and weak.

What I took away from this book, at 13 and during most successive readings, was that the fault in this situation is Talia's unwillingness to trust Teren and break down. It is her inability to open up emotionally to her deep, vulnerable feelings that causes problems. I suspect that my reading is not terribly far off the narrative's own perception of the central problem. In the 1980s, psychology was very based around the individual, the dance of the id, ego, and superego. Talia's problem is that she has an overactive superego, which prevents her from expressing her natural feelings in a healthy way. She uses unhealthy coping mechanisms, which must be overcome to achieve health and full congruence with her feelings. This runs very much on the catharsis model, where emotions build up like a boil, and must be lanced; once someone "vents", they feel better.

Now, at 31, and trained to help vulnerable 13-year-olds, I can see a lot of differences in how I'd assess the problem now. The trauma field especially has come to understand that humans are essentially relational beings; our brains are born in relationships. We function best in relationships. We need, more than anything else, to feel connected and understood. And then, above that: we are beings in brains and bodies. Our consciousness is limited by the hardware it runs on. If our body is dedicating all its resources to fight-or-flight, we cannot be rational, logical thinkers. We need to understand how to regulate our own emotions, both by personal actions and through relationships with others, to achieve health. It takes repeated, patterned practice to master the skills of understanding and moderating those emotions. Coping mechanisms may be unhealthy, but as I was taught in grad school, "All psychopathology was adaptive once." If you're going to take away someone's unhealthy coping mechanism, you need to have first replaced it with something healthier.

So looking at this scene now, I can point out that Talia represses her emotions instantly because in her family of origin, she got beaten up for crying. Her teachers have already observed that she has the defensive and startle-reactions of an abused child. It should not be very hard for Teren to put two and two together and think: She has been systematically trained to view emotion as unsafe. 

He could, at this point, make the rules of their current situation clear: "It's all right to cry. You don't have to put on a brave face for me." This would let Talia know that she won't lose support or status if she cries. But that assumes, frankly, that she can cry; that the experience of being vulnerable in front of another human being wouldn't be too overwhelming, perhaps terrifying, for her to bear. He could also validate that, and let Talia know he sees her and understands. "It'd be all right if you let that guard down, but it looks like you've got a lot of experience with dealing with hard knocks. If you ever do want to talk about it, I'm here."

It's important for him not to try to force her to show feeling the way he thinks she should. He doesn't actually know that it's safe, or that he's safe. Traumatized people need, more than almost anything else, to achieve a measure of control over their own emotions and bodies. They need to be able to make themselves calm when they need to be calm, and not to be ambushed with sadness or fear out of the blue. It should be, more than anything, Talia's decision of when and where to express her emotions. Is bottling it all up unhealthy for her? Oh, probably. She might get depression later this month, or heart disease in 40 years. But being forced to cry when she's not ready to can leave her feeling violated and retraumatized, right here, right now.

The thing that makes crying comforting for most people is that they have a very deep pattern etched on their brains: They cry, someone comforts them, their pain recedes, they feel calmer. It's the pattern of a thousand hungry wakeups as a baby where someone was gentle and kind and fed them. It's skinned knees kissed and broken toys mended. But Talia probably doesn't have that; her experience of crying has been that she's punished and abused for it, and as an infant whose mother died in childbirth, she probably wasn't adequately nurtured either to build those good associations in the first place. Crying just takes her into a deeper place of loneliness and self-hatred. So for her to soothe herself, she might need to be taught very basic ways of doing that--to take a break, to do something she loves, to get a hug from a friend. Her traditional reaction has been to mask her emotions, and to self-isolate and let those feelings of pain and alienation swamp her.

What he could even do, as I sometimes do as a therapist, is respect that repression as a way of coping and roll with it. If someone can only bear the most glancing reference to their trauma? Then glance. Use black humour or obvious irony to acknowledge the situation without engaging with its emotional depth. “So, you know, no big deal. I bet that’s what you’ve always wanted.” So long as it’s paired with other kinds of real caring--especially useful, immediate help and close emotional attunement--that’s not out of place.

One thing he seems to have assumed is that of course, if your family is awful and devastating, you get to take the morning off to cry. I can only assume that's why he's pushing her to cry at the end of class, when she has another one to go to right after. But she might not know that. Certainly her familyexpected that if they did something awful and devastating, Talia needed to get back to work as soon as possible. Teren doesn't discuss this, and I think it's important; Talia goes to something like four other classes, has lunch, and reads for an hour before she finally gets to do anything relevant to taking care of her emotions. Implicitly, the idea that schedule and routine supercede emotions, and that emotional work takes second place, gets reinforced by the system that thinks it's "saving" her.

The other thing traumatized people struggle with, next to control, is connection. Trauma is hugely isolating; it reroutes resources away from the parts of the brain that foster social connection, so people literally lose track of anyone who might be loving and supportive, and it's hard to make ordinary people understand what you're going through. This is part of why Teren showing Talia all his distress isn't really good for her; he's overloading her still further with natural empathy for his emotions, increasing the weight she has to carry mentally, but not reinforcing her connections. He doesn't remind her that other Heralds are her family now, nor does he give her help in how to reach out to anyone.

Who might Teren remind her of? As much as he's taking on the role of The Person She Can Be Emotional To, he's hardly ever in her life; this is the last day of their week-long class where he met her for one hour a morning. He could encourage her to talk to one of her regular teachers, including his twin Keren, who teaches her equitation, or the cook, in whose kitchen Talia is most confident and in her element. If her dormitory had older Heralds who lived there in a kind of supervisory or mentoring role, spending hours of unstructured free time with the trainees, he could direct her to one of them. He could even direct her to her age-peers, with whom she lives, who might not be the most emotionally attuned but certainly seem to be the group with whom the Heralds expect her to do most of her emotional bonding.

Or he could--now here's a thought--suggest she spend the rest of the morning with the magical psychic horse who can beam rays of love and devotion directly into her brain.

But he doesn't. It is only after Talia has attended classes on history, geography, mathematics, etiquette, and archery, eaten lunch, read for an hour, and cried in the back of the sewing room, that she finally sees her magic horse. And she does feel a bit better! But by then, her major adrenaline has worn off, and with it the ability to etch memories deeply into her brain; the first hours after her shock were spent ignoring her feelings and being disconnected from people who didn't notice she was in pain, thus reinforcing all her old traumatic impressions.

So the book sets up a recurring number of incidents where Talia's loneliness and isolation is reinforced by the world around her; where no one provides her the necessary scaffolding to help her build bridges with other people and develop the skills to be healthier; and then, as happens throughout the series, when something bad happens to her, she is blamed for being so isolated and repressed. 

When I was 13, I had no framework to understand any of this. On the schoolyard, I'd been taught many of Talia's lessons about the dangers of showing weakness, and in the classroom, about the importance of repressing emotions; I used her as an emotional model. (Later in the books, Talia lbecomes an Empath and Mind-Healer, which hugely impacted my decision to become a therapist.) But then, when her loneliness turned into defencelessness and her lack of emotional control turned into instability, the narrative said it was her fault for not being healthier. And so I thought: Yes. It is completely reasonable to provide a young person with no emotional support at all, and then get mad at them for being fucked up.

And so there's lead in the water.

[unillustratedadventures]

On Airing Dirty Laundry

I find myself wanting to explain the overwhelmingly gloomy nature of this blog. It’s probably obvious, but the endless posts about narcissistic abuse partly come from a personal place. I.e., they partly come from a continuing need to explain something for which there is no available explanation. They also reflect a genuine new interest. The two things are related. I’m newly interested in the interpersonal dynamics of abuse, and in abusive personality traits, partly for personal reasons.

But these posts on narcissism, interpersonal exploitation, etc., are broadly academic. The blog’s also gloomy because I’ve been airing my dirty laundry. I’ve always done so without naming names, and with varying levels of crypticness or abstractness. I’ve always afforded plausible deniability, at the very least, to the other parties involved. It can be difficult to grasp just how important plausible deniability is, when you already know the fact that’s plausibly deniable. E.g., if you already know that you’ve done something wrong, and then this thing is stated in a way that allows you to plausibly deny it, the statement in question might still make you feel bad. It’s going to have much the same effect on you as if it hadn’t been plausibly deniable. After all, you already know every detail of the shameful fact that’s being asserted.

Nevertheless, at least some amount of restraint has been shown by the speaker, just insofar as it would have been easy for her to have been more specific. This isn’t to say that there’s no moral obligation to show such restraint. Typically there is. It’s just that we very frequently fail to do our moral duty. We frequently choose not to do our moral duty, especially when it’s a moral duty to someone who’s wronged us, or someone who’s shown little-to-none of the same kind of restraint.

More importantly, though, preserving plausible deniability is no small thing. It’s the difference between something’s being in the common ground, and not being in the common ground. When it comes to social mores, reputations, saving face, and things of this nature, the common ground is ultimately the only thing that matters.

Even more important than this, the airing of dirty laundry hasn’t been a mere self-indulgence—at least not in the perjorative sense. And it’s not something that I’ve done to punish, or that I’ve done out of spite. It’s not something I’ve been particularly comfortable with. I know it can be embarrassing, or cringeworthy. But then I’m not doing it because I think it reflects well on me, or because I expect other people to be interested in my personal issues. It’s part of a program of recovery.

Lack of closure can be really hard to deal with, and it can cause a lot of problems, especially in relation to an emotional trauma. This is part of the reason that I’ve been having problems for so long, particularly with anxiety and with obsessive and intrusive thoughts. Writing about the relevant personal events, and either sharing them or posting them somewhere public, is a recommended technique for dealing with such issues. There’s a finality and an objectivity to this, and a corresponding catharsis (however brief), that simply wouldn’t be achieved by writing in a journal or talking to a friend. It’s also something that’s advised because it guards against dissociation, and ensures that the difficult feelings and truths are actually felt rather than avoided; that they’re committed to, accepted, and (hopefully, eventually) processed.

The lack of closure is one reason. Another is cognitive dissonance. Cognitive dissonance only exacerbates the anxiety, and the obssessive and intrusive thoughts. It keeps the whole cluster fuck alive and unresolved. It’s impossible to convey how destructive this confusion has been, for me. It’s obviously related to the lack of closure, insofar as I have no information that has been able to resolve the contradictions. These contradictions aren’t merely cognitive. They’re deeply emotionally significant. I get the impression that if they’d only been contradictions in thought, then they’d have been more readily brushed aside, and forgotten about relatively quickly. In relation to this, I’ve been having emotional flashbacks, which are closely tied to the cognitive dissonance. If one of these flashbacks is triggered (it’s often triggered by my PhD, unfortunately), then it’s always a flashback into something that has an unresolved contradiction with something else that’s deeply emotionally significant. And so then I get kind of locked in this obsessive oscillation between one thing and another, like an increasingly decrepit ping pong ball.

Dissonance of this kind is a predictable consequence of narcissistic abuse—of being subjected to abrupt shifts between total idealisation and total devaluation. It’s possible for someone to alternately idealise you and devalue you in this way deliberately, in order to cause distress, destablise you, and confuse you. In more local or acute cases, it’s something that a particularly determined bully might intentionally do. But if it’s deliberately done as part of a pervasive or chronic pattern, then the person is most likely a psychopath (I mean this literally, and not in a flippant or hyperbolic sense).

Someone can also alternately idealise you and devalue you because of a defence mechanism called ‘splitting’. Roughly, someone who pervasively splits cannot tolerate certain kinds of evaluative uncertainty, and the result of this is a moderate form of psychosis. Both the self and things external to the self (including other people) are only represented as thoroughly good or thoroughly bad. Clearly, since this way of representing reality is not properly anchored to the evidence, it is also unstable. As soon as something is affecting a splitter slightly more negatively than positively, it is suddenly represented as all bad (and treated accordingly). But if it then starts to affect the splitter slightly more positively than negatively, it is suddenly represented as being all good (and treated accordingly). This can lead the splitter to abruptly shift between idealising and devaluing a person, in response to comparatively minor fluctuations in how this person is immediately affecting her. In an interpersonal context, this is narcissistic abuse.

When a person is being idealised or devalued, it always says more about the idealiser or devaluer than the person who is being idealised or devalued. As mentioned, it’s either a malicious tactic, or a defensive form of psychosis. More to the point: in reality, no one even comes close to being ideal or completely worthless (whatever this might mean). And no one abruptly shifts from being close to one extreme to being close to the other—at least not in any objective sense, based on actual personality. So to represent a person as ideal or worthless, or to abruptly shift between representing a person as one and representing a person as the other, must say more about the representation itself than about the person who is being represented.

But it doesn’t really matter if you know that this is the case. Being idealised or devalued has an adverse emotional impact on you anyway. And being subjected to unpredictable shifts between them is rapidly emotionally destablilsing, and devastating to one’s self-esteem. It also introduces obsessive and self-destructive thought patterns. Where before you had no reason to doubt your representation of reality, and your representation of yourself, now you’re thrown into this state of constantly questioning whether up is really down, and vice versa. This effect is frequently combined with invalidation and gaslighting, which only worsen the self-doubt and cognitive dissonance. These things are frequently combined with narcissistic abuse because of Cluster B personality disorders. Anyone with such a disorder is prone to splitting (or psychopathic abuse, if the disorder is ASPD) as well as to manipulating, invalidating, and gaslighting others.

What I’m trying to say is that validation has been a critical part of recovery, for me. Specifically, self-validation has been critical. Combined, all of these things can lead to a paradoxical situation, in which one knows what actually happened and yet frequently finds one’s self thinking that it didn’t really happen, or feeling as though something different happened. E.g., I spent a significant amount of time being reassured that something of deep emotional importance would always be the case. Then—after an abrupt shift—it was communicated to me, also for a significant amount of time, that the same thing would in fact never be the case, and that it had never even been the case. There was no sensible path that I could follow from one extreme to its total contradiction, and so the dissonance could not be resolved. This sort of thing fucks with your head, however robust or stable you might be. Being told by someone, A, that you’re the most wonderful person A’s ever met and that A’s never been so in love with anyone in her life, and then to be suddenly condemned and despised by A, and told by A that you’re a worthless, insufferable piece of shit; to be encouraged to feel something stable, only to be suddenly denigrated for continuing to feel this stable thing—it fucks with your head. It just does. I think that this kind of interpersonal inconsistency might fuck with your head even with a complete stranger. It definitely fucks with your head if it’s someone you trust and respect. And it brutalises your head if it’s someone with whom you’re in love.

So when I find myself launched back into ruminating on one of these unresolved contradictions, it’s traumatic. These contradictions are lodged in really deep emotional parts of me, and I can’t get them out. What’s more, I’ll often find myself entertaining doubts about what I’d otherwise know to be true, either because I’ve been gaslighted into thinking this, or because it would resolve the dissonance and its associated anxiety. That’s a problem. Resolving things in this way—by denial, repression, self-delusion, or whatever—is unhealthy. It’s what leads to the toxic over-use of defence mechanisms such as splitting in the first place. It’s why victims of abuse can end up being abusive to others. When it starts to happen, I have to try to fight it. I have to commit to what I know to be true, in some kind of visible, objective way. If that means airing dirty laundry, then that’s what I have to do. I’d prefer not to; which is to say, I’d prefer that I didn’t have a reason to. I still can’t understand how I’ve ended up here; how any of this was remotely necessary. But I hope it’s clear that if my reasons were ignoble or spiteful, then I’d have no reason to show any restraint at all, however minor this restraint might seem. It doesn’t take much. My inkling is that if we were all willing to show just a bit of restraint—if there was even just the most basic bedrock of give-and-take—then none of us would have anything to restrain in the first place.