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real-godzekiel · 2 years ago

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monster 4

i love m4 thank you

(The use of he/him for Monster 4 may be temporary. I have no idea what pronouns this silly would use. Honestly, anything but it/its would probably do. ) So I got the DLC TEX folder. The png files for Monster 4's death screen. Got nothing more than what I got when I first saw it and looked thoroughly through every frame. The reason why I'm mentioning this at the beginning of Monster 4's headcanon post will be explained at the bottom of the post after an edit. But here's what I have for him:

Dude's kind of miserable. He was doing alright in the tranquility of... well, nothingness before the Protagonist awaken his mind and his stomach muscles with the sound of rattling keys. His chase sequence is equivalent of a stabbed man running for an ambulance. Bad comparison when it happens in a cursed hospital in a cursed mansion, but you get the picture. Every second he's conscious, he suffers from an unquenchable hunger (LiV reference???). Every second when the hunger is slightly more manageable, he suffers from a number of conflicting emotions: guilt, fear of feeling worse again, fear of remembering shit he does not want to remember, fear of forgetting who he is, fear of the hospital environment and fear of what's outside the hospital. But right now, he's doing surprisingly well cleaning after the other hospital inhabitants.

Canonically a gamer:

I would imagine he's immune to horror games but does not have a preference towards them. He plays Slime Rancher and Amnesia with the same amount of casual enthusiasm. This fucker is so dedicated and curious that he'll spend hours exploring useless corners so he experiences everything the game has to offer. Gets mad at letsplayers when they miss secret endings/easter eggs or misinterpret lore.

Extreme pain tolerance in every part of his body except for the digestive system and brain. Either everything else seems like papercuts by comparison or that in some way he's half-dead. He's still stuck in the mindset that he is fully alive and human, albeit mutilated. It's not that he isn't aware of what vaguely happened to him, but that he reacts to the other horrific shit that goes on in the mansion like he doesn't eat people and that death is something that can still happen to him.

Eats everything that's SOFT enough. That is to say, he will not eat glass shards. Nor hard rocks. Nor tables. Nor an entire killer whale without taking time to cut it into pieces. Nor any type of weapon for that matter. Favorite food is raw red meat (beef, pork and lamb) and grilled potatoes and yam. Drinks (what he believes is) water like a healthy person.

"Rex" began when Bekka pointed out the similarities between his roar and that of a T Rex's. He's fine with this. Dinosaurs are kind of cool.

He's currently learning to knit. Wearing the same oversized patient gown is not super convenient. (Specimen 6: "Where the fuck did my needle go")

So. Regarding a more concrete backstory: I have no clue. The entire issue originates from his death screen. Most enemies have a small amount of intelligible information for my brain to form a character background out of. But God, Kira needs to tell me what details in M4's death screen is serious or simple easter eggs or making fun of this type of communicating lore to the community. This fella's death screen has no need to look like it came straight out of an ARG. Why is there a QR code that takes me to a quote site. What does this mean? Why are there so many text that I can barely decipher. All this made me feel like I'm missing something when constructing how this guy came into being in my head. Probably around the lines of being a hospital patient, getting influenced by Monster 5, eating his family then attempting to off himself and failing (somewhat). That's the general consensus in the SJSM community, but just from that death screen I still feel that's not enough. A dark/hj part of me is telling me Monster 4 might be like Specimen 9, something based on a real event or some bullshit just because his death screen is so packed with things that suggest secrets but are impossible to solve, at least for me. I don't even know. Here's some screenshots I want to talk about:

What is that B&W background?? A flower??? A brain????

This is interesting because it's similar to Nurse Tanaka's note. Might just be a reference to Monster 5's influence, which affects nearly every Karamari Hospitel character, so I don't know if this is anything important.

What interested me most is the family photo. The contrast and distortions are too high for me to find out the source for the original image of this photo, but it looks quite real. Could be a random stock image or something else. I honestly don't know. If you happen to find the original image and the context behind it, please send it to me. Thanks. This post is getting too long and I spent my whole afternoon on it.

#sjsm #shojs #sjm #spooky's jumpscare mansion #spooky's house of jumpscares #spooky’s jumpscare mansion #sjm headcanons #shojs headcanons #sjsm headcanons #monster 4 #uuuuuuguguagahughughaughauhuhhghgh #tw cannibalism #tw blood #tw pain #tw suicide #long post #tw horror

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itsadamcole · 4 years ago

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christmas baby

fem!reader x drew mcintyre

reader goes into labor with drew’s baby, while drew is in the ring fighting for his wwe championship

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: pregnancy, dad!drew (bc why not), fluffy

— day 8 lets gooo. i literally wrote this up yesterday during raw —

masterlist || request an imagine here

***

Drew’s POV

"The following match scheduled for one fall is for the WWE Championship. Introducing first the challenger, weighing in at 267 pounds, from Dublin, Ireland. Sheamus!" is announced as Sheamus stands across from me in the ring.

The crowd cheers and boos for my former best friend.

After the crowd calms down, Mike Rome says, "And his opponent, weighing in at 265 pounds, from Ayer, Scotland. He is the WWE Champion, Drew McIntyre!"

The crowd cheers for me and I hold up my title.

The referee takes my title and holds it up. I prepare myself for my match as the title is handed off.

The lights come up and the bell rings. Sheamus comes right after me, striking me with his fists. I try pushing him off me.

He starts yelling at me. "Come on, fella!" he shouts. "Hit me. I dare ya!"

So, that's what I do. I deliver the Glasgow Kiss to him and Sheamus stumbles backward, stunned.

I run at him, clotheslining him so he lands on his back in the ring. He lays by the ropes, using them to get up. I run at him but he pulls down the ropes and I go flying over them. I land on the ground outside the ring with a grunt.

Someone runs over to me and says so only I can hear, "Drew, we just got a call from your wife. Y/N just called from an ambulance. She's been in labor for a few hours but her water broke so she had to go to the hospital. She called 9-1-1 since she was alone. She waited as long as she could but she had to go to the hospital."

My eyes widen and Sheamus is looking over the ropes at me. He knows what this means.

I have to end this match and fast. I need to be there for the birth of my child.

***

Your POV

You scream in pain as another contraction hits. They've been getting closer and closer together over the past few hours. You wanted to wait for Drew to get home before you went to the hospital but your water broke so you had to go to the hospital. You have been progressing quickly. You were at six centimeters when you got here a half-hour ago.

When the due date got closer, Drew gave you the number of a WWE official and a close friend of Drew's. You were supposed to call when you went into labor and if Drew was at the arena. You felt contractions begin to start about two hours ago and waited as long as you could. Once your water broke and you were in the ambulance, you called.

It’s Christmas Eve. At the rate you’re going, you’ll be giving birth on Christmas Day.

As soon as you were settled in a room, you turned on USA Network. It's about forty minutes later and Sheamus is setting up for the Brogue Kick. This match has been really long and you aren't very happy about it. Drew was the main event and he wasn't on TV when you called.

You grip the sheets on the bed as you breathe your way through a contraction.

Sheamus hits the Brogue Kick on Drew and you gasp, eyes still on the TV.

"No," you say. "Drew, no."

You watch as Sheamus goes in for the cover. The referee counts to three and the bell rings.

The contractions get worse and you scream in pain.

Drew lost his title. He was supposed to retain. He purposefully lost his title.

A nurse comes in and checks on you. "How are you doing, honey?" she asks. "Everything okay?"

The nurse checks to see how dilated you are now as you nod and say, "Yeah, everything's okay. Um, I know I said I didn't want drugs but can I pretty please have an epidural?"

Your nurse laughs and says, "Of course. Someone will be in soon so administer it. You're also at about seven centimeters dilated. Can we call someone for you? Family? The father?"

"The father should be on his way any second," you glance up at the TV as Drew gives Sheamus a handshake.

The nurse looks at the TV and asks, "Wait, you're Mrs. Y/N McIntyre, aren't you?"

You nod and say, "Yep, that's me, and that's my husband." You nod at the TV as it goes off the air.

The nurse sits in a chair beside you and says, "My husband and sons love wrestling. They're huge fans of Drew's and I know that they're not happy that Drew lost his title."

You smile and say, "I'm not happy that Drew lost his title. I know he's in a rush to get here and that's why but he didn't have to give up his title."

The nurse laughs softly and says, "Well, I'm sure they'll give him a title run. When he gets here, we'll be sure to get him up here as soon as possible. It's still a few hours before the baby gets here."

An anesthesiologist comes into the room to give you the epidural. The nurse holds your hand as you're given the drugs. The epidural starts to kick in about ten minutes later, and you have several contractions between when the epidural is administered and when it actually kicks in.

It's close to an hour later when Drew shows up. He's wearing a black tank top with grey sweatpants. You can see his tights peeping out from the top of his sweatpants because they're hanging a little low.

"Are you still in your gear?" you ask.

Drew nods and takes your hand. "I had to get here as soon as I could," he says. "How far along 're ya?"

You say, "I'm close to eight centimeters. I still have an hour or two left to go before I give birth."

Drew kisses your hand and says, "I'm sorry I couldn't get here faster. Ya called right before my match and I wasn't given the news until the match started."

A contraction starts and you squeeze Drew's hand. You pant out, "You didn't have to lose your title to get here."

Your husband rests his other hand on top of yours are you breathe your way through the contraction. They've been the closest than they ever have been. They're about three minutes apart and lasting about a minute.

The epidural has helped the pain a little bit but not a lot because it hasn't fully kicked in.

"I wanted to," Drew says as the contraction stops. "We got lucky that Raw was here in Orlando this week. Next week, I'd be traveling to Michigan and right from there I'd be traveling to California. I wouldn’t have made it in time. It’s the one thing I always promised myself.”

You look at Drew and say, “Baby, I would have understood if you couldn’t be here. Your job pays the bills since I said I would be a stay at home parent.”

He leans down and kisses your sweaty forehead. “I promised ya that I’d be here, and I’ve never broken a promise when it comes to ya and our baby,” Drew says.

You smile as another contraction starts. You cry out in pain and hold Drew’s hand.

This continues for almost two hours. The contractions get worse and are closer together. The nurse checks your cervix every fifteen minutes when it dilates to nine centimeters.

You’re taken into a delivery room as soon as you hit ten centimeters.

Drew is given a plastic gown so he can come into the room with you. He stands by your bedside as two nurses get you prepared to give birth.

You’re covered in a thick layer of sweat and your hair is a mess. Hopefully this will all be worth it after all the pain you’ve gone through in the past several hours.

The doctor comes in and says, “Alright, Mrs. McIntyre. When the next contraction comes, I need you to begin pushing.”

You nod as the doctor gets set up. You look up at Drew and he looks down at you. He smiles at you.

A contraction hits and the doctor says, “Alright, push me me, Y/N.”

So you do. You push, and you push.

It’s close to two hours of pushing before the baby comes out.

The sounds of a baby crying makes you sigh with relief that the pain is over and that your baby boy is here.

As the doctor wraps your son in a light blue swaddle, you can see a head full of dark hair. The baby definitely has Drew’s dark hair.

Drew is handed your son and you look up, seeing your sweet boy’s sleeping face. Happy tears begin to fall down your face. You’re definitely still a little emotional.

“Do we have a name?” the doctor asks.

You nod and say, “We wanted to name him Archie John McIntyre.”

Archie was chosen because both you and Drew liked it, and it had some Scottish meaning. John is his middle name because it was your great-grandfather, grandfather, and dad’s middle name. You wanted to keep the tradition.

Drew rocks little Archie back and forth and you let your son hold your finger.

“So,” Drew says, looking at you. “When are we trying again for another one?”

You glare up at your husband and say, “Not for a while. I cannot handle this pain again, Drew. At least getting hit with a chair won’t feel as bad since I literally pushed a baby out of me today.”

Your husband laughs and presses a kiss to your head. “I love ya, Y/N,” he says. “And I love this little life ya have birth to.”

Archie begins to fuss in Drew’s arms and you giggle, “Someone’s hungry. Give him to me.” You hold your arms out for Archie.

Drew hands Archie over to you and you breastfeed him.

A few hours later, you’re discharged. When you get home, you take a picture of Archie holding yours and Drew’s fingers.

Drew posts on his social media saying, “A future WWE champ was born today. He’s definitely coming for that title.”

You post on your socials saying, “What a Christmas present that we were given today. Baby Archie was born early this morning, on Christmas Day. We love you, Archie. Thank you for making us parents on Christmas.”

That night, Drew sleeps with his arms wrapped around your waist and you sleep facing the crib in your bedroom. You watch your son sleep.

A smile forms across your lips as you realize that this is your life now. You have a husband who loves you and a baby who is loved by both of you.

#drew mcintyre imagine #drew mcintyre fluff #drew mcintyre x reader #wrestling imagine #wrestling fluff #wwe imagine #wwe fluff #imagines #imagine #fluff imagine #fluffmas #christmas fluff #christmas imagine

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fantasticstoryteller · 4 years ago

Text

New Dynasty Chapter 28

“Oopsy-daisy!” Deadpool said as he shook the body off his katana. The katana he had to then throw to the side since it was bent in the middle.

[I told you not to get them from that vendor. He clearly didn’t know what he was doing.]

{Ugh—his guts are all over our feet.}

Deadpool laughed maniacally, twirled, and shot the next four enemies. Then he looked around, slightly disappointed that there weren’t any more to kill.

[That was what, five bodyguards plus target? It was too easy.]

{There’s someone behind us.}

Deadpool whirled again, gun raised to the head of a young man. The man had white streaks in his orange hair, was dressed in an impeccable suit, and looked nervous. Deadpool didn’t take the nervous part personally—most people were when they talked to him. The young man had both hands raised and part of Deadpool sighed with regret that he wasn’t going to be able to kill the young man. He had two rules: kill no one unarmed and not trying to kill him (unless he was being paid insanely well for it) and two: no children—ever. There was not enough money in the world to make him consider killing a child.

The young man swallowed hard. “I’ve—I’ve heard a lot about you Deadpool.”

Deadpool shrugged without moving the gun. “People have. People talk. People die,” he said simply. “It’s all in good fun, I mean money. I mean money and fun.” He giggled.

The young man looked unnerved. Most people did after talking to Deadpool for a few minutes. “Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about.” The young man swallowed again. “I want to hire you to kill someone for me.”

“Oh? Who is that?”

“Spiderman.”

[Who the fuck is that?]

{Eh, forget. Let’s just kill this fucker.}

“Now now, we can’t kill him,” Deadpool said reasonably. “After all, he’s going to pay us to kill someone else.”

[And just what are you going to do with more money? Buy another shitty sword?]

“I’ll spend my money how I want it!” snarled Deadpool. The young man took a step back. “So, mister—uh—what’s your name?”

“Osborn. Norman Osborn.”

“Well Normie,” Deadpool said as he slipped his gun back into its holster. “We maybe have a deal.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe. I have no fucking clue who Spiderman man, and I don’t kill kids.” He picked up the bent katana and sighed. “White’s right,” he muttered, “cheap ass sword. I bet the bastard wasn’t even a real smith.”

[We can always kill him on the way out of town.]

“So you’re going to do research?” Normie sounds surprised—astonished even.

“Oh yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he told the man. He swung the katana a few times.

{I don’t think it’ll work if we straighten it.}

“Shouldn’t have bent in the first fucking place,” grouched Deadpool as he lumbered off. He walked right off the roof, died, healed, and kept going. Once he reached his place (a real dump, but he didn’t care enough to clean up), he got on his computer (a state-of-the-art laptop because who wants to look at grainy porn), and started researching Spiderman.

According to the inter-web, he he, the spider has only been around for about six months, was both credited for stopping a terrorist organization and cited as the menace behind the organization, and basically did hero stuff. Like one of those stick-in-the-ass Avengers he occasionally ran into. Oh, and he had a blog. Wait—Spiderman had a blog?

Curious he began browsing it. The thing had several different threads; one of them was a rant thread about his villains—yadda yadda yawn—another was about food—was there anything the spider didn’t eat? Not that Deadpool was one to judge—but the third one caught his eye. It was about “everyday heroes.” A clerk spotting a runaway some money for milk (bet she never saw that money again), an officer helping a kid, off the clock, with homework, a gang leader rescuing a kitten from a tree—weird random shit. And Deadpool knew random.

[Oh, that should be our new catchphrase!]

Then Deadpool came across a recent post, and stared for a moment.

I’ve been hearing a lot about a mercenary known as Deadpool. I’ve heard that he’s got no morals, is certifiably insane, and has a larger kill count than the last world war. If you read this Deadpool, I want to tell you something: Don’t kill in my city.

{That’s practically an invitation!}

[Don’t go. It might be a trap.]

“With this shit? No way.” Deadpool jumped up and grinned. “We’re going to New York City!”

[We’re not really going to not kill people, right? Just because a blog said so?]

^^^

Of course, Deadpool hadn’t expected a group of thugs to meet him on one of the buildings. “Osborn ain’t happy with you ‘Pool,” one of them sneered. He flipped out a switchblade—an honest to God switchblade—against Deadpool. “We’re here to kill you.”

“Fellas,” Deadpool said, “I’m flattered—I really am, but have you actually thought this through?”

[His face looks like a gorilla’s ass!]

{Do you think he knows that?}

“No, I don’t think he knows his face looks like a gorilla’s ass, but I’ll ask. Hey flat-face! Did you know your face looks like a gorilla’s ass?” The man’s face suffused with rage and he lunged forwards to attack Deadpool—only to be pulled back by a thick, white strand. Deadpool watched, fascinated, as a figure in a blue and red suit with a white spiderweb symbol on the chest began wrapping the man in the threads.

“Holy shit! It’s Spiderman!” One of the goons crept up behind Deadpool and he landed a punch—that deformed the man’s face.

[What’s that jaw made of, glass?]

“Hey Spidey! I haven’t killed anyone in your city!” He noticed the man on the ground, not moving. “Oh, shit, you are still alive, aren’t you? Don’t make a liar out of me!” He yanked the man on the ground, pulled him up to his ear, and listened. He heard the unmistakable sound of air rushing through tubes. “Yup, still alive,” Deadpool said with satisfaction letting the other man drop to the rooftop.

Spiderman rose from a crouch and looked over at Deadpool. Unlike Deadpool, his mask wasn’t emotive, so Deadpool couldn't tell what Spiderman was thinking. “You must be Deadpool,” Spiderman said.

[He knows who we are!]

{Of course he does! He practically invited us!}

[We’re still going to kill him, aren’t we?]

{Are you nuts? He just saved us!}

[Yeah—but we didn’t need saving.]

{Not like he knows that!}

Deadpool just beamed at Spiderman. “Yes I am!” he said. “And I haven’t killed anyone in your city!” Spiderman walked over to Deadpool.

{I don’t think he’s happy.}

[We should just kill him now!]

Spiderman reached out, and gently touched Deadpool’s shoulder. “Good job,” he said.

[Did—did he just praise us? For not killing people?]

{Not for not killing people, weren’t you listening? For not killing people in his city!}

[Still a first either way.]

“Bank robbery,” muttered Spiderman looking away from Deadpool. “At this time of night?” he asked.

Deadpool couldn't see the hero frown, but could hear it in his voice. Deadpool bounced and clapped his hands. “Oh! Let me come too! I want to help too!” he said.

[He’s not going to want our help, dipshit.]

{Look, just because he invited us to the city doesn’t mean he wants our help.}

“All right,” Spiderman said grudgingly, “but let me call someone first.” He pulled out a phone, flipped it open (seriously, who still has a flip-phone in this day and age) and began to dial.

“A cabbie? A helicopter? Your lady friend?”

“Police,” Spiderman said vaguely.

[Say what now?]

{Eh, if he tries to have us arrested we can just kill him. We were hired to do that anyway.}

Deadpool listened to Spiderman request both police and an ambulance for a criminal that was severely injured during the capture procedure. Then the spider closed the phone and tucked it into the suit—and there wasn’t even a bulge to indicate where it came from. “Holy shit, and they say I’m amazing. Well, never twice, but holy shit! Where, in that tightness, did you put a pocket?”

“Are you going to be like this the whole way?” demanded Spiderman. “Because, if you are, you can find your own way to the bank.” He rattled off an address.

[Holy—not only did he not call the cops on us, but he’s still letting us tag along!]

{I don’t think we can kill him now. Maybe Osborn? But not in this city.}

The spider had long since swung off. “Guys,” Deadpool said, “this nice thing—it’s only an act. I’ll kill him when he slips.” He grinned. “But until then—let’s see where this takes us!” He pulled out a grappling hook and fired it at the next building over so that he could swing like the spider towards the robbery.

^^^

The act didn’t fade. Spiderman not only let Deadpool patrol with him to help the police stop crime (although that was difficult in itself—trusting the police) he frequently thanked the merc for his help. It was—strange. Nice, but—strange. People had never really thanked him before—not even the few people he knew who could listen to him without getting nervous.

That was another odd thing about Spiderman—he didn’t get nervous around Deadpool, not like other people did. Hell, just the other night a criminal had turned, seen Deadpool right beside Spiderman and literally wet his pants right there in fear. It was a given response—a normal response. Deadpool was having trouble with Spiderman’s lack of response.

The blog was fun though. At first he hadn’t thought twice about it, posting about the night’s patrol under the rant section (and was oddly pleased that he wasn’t one of the people Spiderman ranted about)—until Spiderman began responding to his posts which was—frankly terrifying. He wasn’t sure why it made him nervous.

And that day he was reading “Everyday Heroes” to see—himself. A post about how Deadpool, notorious mercenary and cold-blooded killer, waded into thick, NYC traffic to save a kitten that had somehow ended up in the middle of the street. The post was, like all the others in the Everyday Heroes section, short and sweet.

Only thing was, that incident happened in the broad light of day, and Spiderman had been nowhere around.

{He did tell us that he sees more than we think he does.} Yellow sounded anxious.

[He’s making us feel again. That’s never good. We should just kill him and forget this whole thing.]

But—Deadpool didn’t want to kill Spiderman. Hanging out with Spiderman was fun. The hero would laugh at his jokes, praised him for not killing people (in New York City), and thank Deadpool for his help. It was nice, it was fun, and he didn’t want it to end yet.

[You’re right. We should wait to kill him until after he hates us.]

{Spiderman isn’t going to hate us!}

[Everyone hates us; just give it time.]

Deadpool, alone in his crappy apartment (because, again—immortal and who cares), nodded. He would do that. White was right—everyone hated him eventually, and he could enjoy hanging out with the spider until he hated Deadpool too. Then he could kill him.

^^^

It wasn’t until the capture of the giant green lizard that Deadpool realized that Spiderman—Spiderman wasn’t going to hate him. In fact, Spiderman was worried about Deadpool, about how casual Deadpool was with his own life. Staring at the ranting spider the mercenary came to an odd—and yet right—conclusion: Spiderman—cared. Spiderman cared more about Deadpool’s life than anyone else—including Deadpool. It was heartwarming, it was wonderful—and it was terrifying.

[Well, we can’t kill him now.]

Spiderman’s rant ran down and Deadpool frantically searched for something to change the subject. “You hungry? I know a great Mexican place—open twenty-four hours!”

Spiderman stared at Deadpool for a moment in silence.

{I don’t think he’s happy with us.}

[Let’s kill him now!]

Finally the hero heaved a huge sigh. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” he asked. The two of them walked to the restaurant, leaving the human that used to be a giant lizard in a box in the alley. They made the walk in silence, they ordered—and Spiderman pulled out his phone and started texting.

“Who are you texting?” asked Deadpool as he helped himself to some of the complimentary nachos.

“Mrs. Conner. We’ve worked out a system; I’m letting her know he turned again and where to pick him up.”

Deadpool stared at Spiderman, as if he hadn’t seen the hero before. “Spidey—are you helping someone avoid the police?”

“Do you honestly think he’ll get the help he needs in prison?” Spiderman demanded. “Besides,” he added as the waitress (sadly, one of those that won’t serve alcohol without a photo ID) brought them their drinks, “he didn’t hurt anyone and honestly? That company deserves a little cosmetic damage. Maybe then people might see them for the monsters they really are.” Spiderman pushed his mask up to his nose and took a sip of the carbonated beverage.

“You should put that on your blog,” Deadpool said. He too, had pushed up his mask. Spiderman either pretended not to see—or really didn’t care.

[Don’t kid yourself—he’s being polite. Besides, it’s dark in here. It’s dark everywhere the two of you go to eat.]

{Maybe. He actually seems to like us.}

Deadpool watched the lower half of Spiderman’s face twist in a grimace. “I really just want to focus on more positive things in that blog.” He gave a tiny smile.

“Like saving kittens in traffic?” Deadpool’s voice was harder than he meant it to be.

The slight smile faded. “Do you mind?” he asked. “If you do, I’ll pull it off.”

[Whoa. He’s offering to change his blog for us!]

{Forget killing him; you should marry him!}

“Eh, no, it’s fine,” he assured the young hero. While Spiderman had never given Deadpool an age it was clear the hero was young. Possibly even young enough to make him qualified for the “no children” rule—although Deadpool was kind of hoping not. The waitress brought their food and walked quickly away. “I was just surprised. I didn’t see you anywhere around at the time.”

Spiderman smiled again. “I told you,” he said calmly, “I see more than you think I do.”

Deadpool couldn't let it go. “Then what about the ones that don’t have a good reason for what they do?” he asked thinking back to the days, not that long ago, when he was one of those people. “What if they can’t change?”

The white eyes of the Spiderman suit met his calmly and the hero shrugged. “What if they can?” he asked.

^^^

A few days later he got a tip about a man he’d been chasing around the globe—and was on a bridge, at twilight, waiting.

{This might not be the best idea. Isn’t Spiderman waiting for us to patrol?}

[It’s Francis! We can’t let that bastard get away with what he did to us!]

“No,” Deadpool said, suit tight over scarred skin as memories of screams and pain washed over him for a moment. “We can’t.”

{We can’t kill him in the city! Spiderman trusts us!}

[Easy—we knock him out, take him outside the limits, and then kill him. Then we’re still not killing someone in the city and we can kill Francis.]

{I think Spiderman might object to that logic.}

[Then we kill him too.]

“We’re not killing Spiderman,” Deadpool muttered as the car his informant had told him about came into the street. “But we are,” he added grimly before getting into position to jump, “going to kill Francis.” He jumped into the car on the street below.

Something unexpected happened after he landed on the car. Several other cars, nearby, braked and then surrounded him in a circle as he felt an odd stinging sensation in his neck. He reached up and pulled out—a dart with a plunger?

“Poor Wade,” said the smooth voice of Deadpool’s most hated enemy. The British accent almost brought back waking nightmares of torture. “Did you really think it would be that easy to kill me? I’m far smarter than you think.” The tall man with his shaved head and hallow eyes stepped out of the car and grinned down at Deadpool.

Deadpool tried to focus—but the world was bleeding into color.

“Did you think you destroyed everything in the facility?” asked Francis, sounding warmly amused. “Oh, we still have all your data—and not even your healing factor can save you now.” Francis strode forward and gripped Deadpool’s chin—and Deadpool couldn't move. His arms were coated in lead. “This time,” the man said savagely, “you will become a perfect little mindless slave.”

There were yells, shouts, and gunfire. Francis pulled his hand away and Deadpool collapsed as the ground turned into a mass of technicolor bubbles with teeth. Teeth that wanted to rip into Deadpool—to rip him apart.

“Deadpool?” asked a familiar voice. ‘Oh, shit!”

[Not like…Spidey…to swear.]

{Ow.}

Deadpool’s world dissolved into nightmares. He had no idea how long they taunted him, haunting him. Making him live through the torture again. To watch his best friend, his only friend (before Spiderman) die again.

He knew when the nightmares stopped though. He could hear birds chirping nearby. He opened his eyes—to see a young man—no, a young teenage boy—right next to him. He froze as he tried desperately to remember how this had happened.

The boy groaned slightly, opened brilliant amber eyes, and then leaned forward to place his cool, smooth forehead against Deadpool’s own.

[Oh my God! He’s touching our skin!]

{Where’s the mask? Where’s the mask?}

Deadpool—was frozen. He knew his face was hideous and that he looked like some kind of old school movie monster. What if the boy realized it? Where had the boy come from? And where was Deadpool for that matter?

“Good,” murmured the boy in satisfaction. “Your fever broke.”

“Fever?” asked Deadpool. He hadn’t had a fever since—not since the first time he saw Francis. Not since his healing factor had kicked in. Since he stopped being able to die.

The boy didn’t answer him, but rolled over and off the bed. “Aunt May,” he called as he padded from the room, “his fever broke!”

“What fever?” asked Deadpool again, his voice harsh and raspy. He rolled over, only to collapse back against the bed panting. His limbs felt like weak, overcooked noodles. “What happened?” he asked.

[Had something to do with that damn dart.]

{Weasel gave us up!}

Deadpool felt a brief wave of anger at the bartender/informant—that quickly drained away. Of course Weasel had given Deadpool up the same way that Deadpool would have done the same to Weasel if their positions had been reversed. Deadpool couldn't hate him for that.

[I’ll hate him for all three of us then.]

An old woman, dressed in a button-down the front blue blouse with faded blue jeans, came into the room and looked at Deadpool, mouth pressed into a thin line and eyes narrowed. “So you’re finally back with us. Well, Deadpool or whatever you call yourself, get dressed.” She gestured to a chair with clothes on it. “You’re just in time for breakfast.”

[Who is she to give us orders?]

{Where are we? And why do we feel weak?}

“Good question,” muttered Deadpool. He looked up as the boy entered the room again. “Where am I?”

“My house,” the boy said calmly, as if he carried injured mercenaries into his home every day. Maybe he did. “I didn’t know where you lived and you needed help.” The boy frowned. “Aunt May used to be a nurse, so I thought—well, she knew what to do.”

“Wait,” said Deadpool, confused. “What?”

The boy blinked those huge amber eyes and then grinned. “Sorry,” he said, “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Peter Parker. Also,” he added with a sly twinkle, “known as Spiderman.”

Deadpool stared for a moment. What—Spiderman—here? Spiderman willingly took Deadpool home? “How—how did you know I was on that bridge?” he asked warily.

“I keep telling you that I see more than you think I do,” the boy—Peter responded.

And Deadpool realized where he’d seen that face before. When he’d waded into traffic to save that kitten, that face had been on the sidewalk, watching him as he verbally abused the drivers who would run over a helpless little animal because they were in a hurry, Peter had been one of the faces in the crowd. One of the few weren’t being exasperated with him. “You were there,” he said wonderingly, “that day I saved the kitten. But—I didn’t—I didn’t notice you.”

Peter, instead of taking offense, merely chuckled. “It’s an art to be unnoticeable,” he said. “I’ve been perfecting it for years.”

Deadpool laughed a little breathlessly. He started to hold out a scarred hand, and hesitated.

[He’s already seen us.]

{And he’s not making gagging noises!}

Deadpool swallowed and held out his hand. “Wade,” he said introducing himself for the first time since the torture. “Wade Wilson.”

Peter gently took Wade’s hand, and then helped the man stand up. Wade wasn’t surprised—on one of their patrols he’d seen Spiderman lift and toss a huge concrete pillar from a parking garage that collapsed. Wade was more surprised by the fact he needed help getting dressed—since the healing factor kicked in he hadn’t been weak for longer than it took for him to come back to life. He also needed help getting down the stairs to the table—which was set with homemade waffles, fake maple syrup, and bowls of fresh fruit next to tall glasses of juice.

It was a better meal than anything Wade had seen in years. “Thank you,” he said as Peter helped him into a seat.

The old woman—Aunt May—watched him with narrowed eyes for a moment. “I understand,” she said looking at him, “that you’re the reason Peter has decided to come clean about his—extra curricular activities.” Peter winced.

“I had no idea he was going to be there,” Wade protested.

“Of course you didn’t,” said the woman. “You don’t understand,” she said, “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I’m saying that Peter has finally found a reason to talk to me again.”

Peter winced. “Aunt May—” he began.

“Yes, I know—you were trying to protect me.” She snorted. “I have a better chance of not being in danger if I know that there is danger!”

Peter shrank slightly. “Yes, Aunt May.”

She snorted. “Reckless child,” she muttered affectionately. The three of them sat down together and ate.

The experience was—novel. The closest thing Wade had to compare to it was those late night meals he grabbed with Spiderman. Prior to that Wade hadn’t had a meal in company—a meal eaten with another person—since before the torture.

And no one at this table wanted to kill Wade, or torture him, or hurt him. It was—new.

Near the end of the meal Peter spoke up. “About that—man,” he said grimly, “that shot you with the dart. Francis.” Oddly enough Peter made the name sound like a curse and Wade looked up warily. Bright, amber eyes met his and he said grimly, “I told him he had twenty-four hours to get out of my city.”

“Don’t kill in my city.”

Peter was giving Wade permission to go after Francis and finish the man off.

“That’s nice,” said Aunt May blithely, reminding both of them of her presence. “Peter, take the dishes to the sink and then take garbage. I want that bin by the curb for them to pick up.” Peter kissed his aunt on the cheek as he gathered the dishes and left the room. “He’s a good boy. We raised him well,” she said absently before turning to face Wade again. “As for you,” she said grimly. “You like him.”

It wasn’t a question, and Wade didn’t respond to it.

“If you kill that man, and I’m not going to say he doesn’t deserve to to die after the nightmares you had—”

What had Wade said in his sleep? How much did they know? He stared at the old woman and realized—she’d never tell him.

“—but if you kill him you will change the relationship you are building with that boy forever. Be prepared for that,” she said firmly as Peter came back into the kitchen.

^^^

A few weeks later saw Wade completely healed.

[Don’t you think it’s odd that we’re not calling ourselves Deadpool anymore?]

{No more odd than the fact we’re calling Spidey Petey.}

He found himself in Weasel’s bar, and if he’d had any doubts about the man’s information the way the bartender went completely white at the mere sight of him showing up would have killed them.

[I still say we should kill him.]

{Not in Peter’s city.}

[Eh.]

“Dead—Deadpool,” Weasel stammered. “How—how are you buddy?” He swallowed.

“A lot better than our mutual friend Francis wants me to be,” Deadpool said as he sat on one of the bar stools. He leaned on his elbows on the bar and looked over the bartender who looked nervous.

“I’m sorry man,” the bartender said. “I didn’t want—it’s nothing personal.”

Deadpool smiled. “Oh, I know,” he said cheerfully. “The same way I know that if our positions were reversed I would do the same thing. No, I came here because you’re going to do me a favor.”

“A favor?” asked Weasel.

“Nothing you haven’t done before. You’re just going to spread some information—for me this time.”

“And what—information would that be?” asked Weasel nervously.

“Anyone who tries to go after Spiderman will have to go through me.”

Wade never did leave the city to hunt down Francis. After all, if Deadpool left New York—then who would protect Spiderman?

#Spider-Man #Deadpool #Spideypool #flashback #flash back

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ss-squad-au-real-world-stories · 6 years ago

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Ch. 3

The following storyline is one big roller coaster ride of emotions. It will have its ups and it will have its downs. It will have its OMG moments and cliffhangers. Lots of cliffhangers (how else do you expect me to keep ya coming back?) there will be angst, drama, action, mystery, and possible love. Not sure on that yet, we’ll see where it goes. I will do my best to keep the language down. I’m not fond of using the F’ bomb, but words like bitch and asses may be tossed around. That’s about the most of it, but nothing too profane. I know that some of ya’s are under 18. So as to not get myself or you in too much trouble, I’ll do my best to keep the language in check. Just know that this story is all over the place and you read at your own risk. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

The next morning Logan’s phone rang startling the three friends awake. He looked to see who it was and saw that it was the hospital.

“Hello?”

“Hey Logan,” It was Virgil, he gave a small sigh of relief and listened. “The doc just got done looking me over and said I can go home. Can you come and get me?”

“Yea, sure. We’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

“Ok. Thanks”

When they got to the hospital, they found a crowd of people with cameras out front. “Aren’t those the reporters from last night?” whispered Patton into Logan’s ear. Logan nodded “Maybe we should try a different entrance.” They walked in behind where the ambulance doors were. A nurse approached them.

“Sorry boys, only ambulance victims through these doors.” She said with her arms spread. Roman smiled at her. “Fair lady, we have a friend upstairs who is to be released today and the crowd of reporters out front, we fear are for him. He was the drowning victim that was brought in yesterday. Could you please bend the rules today and allow us access in and out this way? Just this once please?”

Another woman approached them “It’s ok Cindy, I know them, Logan isn’t it?” Logan nodded his head. “Yes, mam.” She smiled at him. “Let me get a guard to guide you in and out of the hospital.”

“Thank you, that would be most appreciated.”

Virgil smiled at them as they walked in, a nurse was bandaging his arm where the iv had been. Roman entered last pushing a wheelchair, “Your chariot young lord.” He smiled. Virgil shook his head and let out a small laugh as he climbed into the wheelchair. He pointed towards the door. “Home Jeeves.” Roman pushed him out of the room.

“I don't ever want to be in another hospital again. I just want to get home and go to sleep.” Said, Virgil, as he was being pushed down the hall.

“What? Why? It couldn't have been that bad.” Asked Roman.

“The nurses kept coming in and checking my vitals. I hardly got any sleep, unlike you.” He complained.

Logan let out a small laugh, “I beg to differ. Your health and wellbeing kept us up all night.”

Patton pushed the elevator button and looked at Virgil. “What Logan said! Also, I'm afraid that going straight home is out of the question, we have a full day ahead of us.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Why?” They entered the elevator. “We need to go to the courthouse and see about helping Devleon out.” Replied Patton.

“Ungh. Fine, but first can I get some real food?” whined Virgil. Patton smiled, “Sure! Where do you want to go?” Virgil closed his eyes in thought, “How about the Tiny Turtle, I could really go for one of their Ocean Wraps.” The elevator doors opened, and they got off “Anything for you kiddo!” smiled Patton.

They thanked the guard for letting them exit out the ambulance doors. They started to head for the car, Virgil saw a flash of light off to his left. It was a man holding a camera, the man took another picture of them. “Hey BARB! He’s exiting out the Ambulance doors!" The next thing they knew, there was a flood of reports heading their way with camera's flashing and people calling out to Virgil and his friends.

As the reporters shouted and asked questions, Virgil, sunk into his hoodie. He started hyperventilating and Patton knew that if he didn't get him out of there quick Virgil would have a full-on panic attack. Patton grabbed Roman’s arm and hissed into his ear “Do something!” Roman gave a quick nod and held up his hands to draw everyone’s attention to himself.

“Would you all like to know the actual story of what happened to my friend and why we went to rescue the fair Virgil?!” All the camera’s turned to him and he started talking about the past events while Patton and Logan snuck off with a panic-stricken Virgil.

Once in the car, Patton held Virgil tight and got him to do his breathing exercises. A few moments passed and Roman hopped quickly into the car “Drive and don't stop!” He shouted. Logan drove away surprisingly fast and wild. It was the first time the other three were honestly very terrified for their life.

After a few moments of the wild ride, Patton was the first to speak up “Logan, we're not in a car chase. So, if you would, please drive a bit saner before I get sick or a cop pulls us over.”

Logan’s eyes went wide, and he slowed down “Right, sorry fellas. Guess I got a bit carried away; what with all that action and Roman springing into the car like that. My adrenaline was a bit on the high side there. By the way Roman, why did I have to peel out like that?”

“Once I was done clarifying the story to them about what happened, they started to ask questions about Dev and what would happen to him, to which I couldn’t answer and when no comment wasn’t enough for them, I just bolted for the safety of a clean getaway. Which Logan supplied nicely, I might add.” Replied Roman, patting Logan on the arm. He then turned back and looked at Virgil. “Hey bud, you ok? I’m sure that wasn’t what you were expecting to get greeted by. After spending a night in the hospital.”

Virgil shook his head “I had a feeling something might happen, but no not like that. What I mean is, I watched the news last night and how they said that Dev tried to kill me, by replaying that stupid video repeatedly on all four news channels, but for some reason, I feel like he really wasn’t.”

Patton shifted uncomfortably in his seat “He wasn’t, he claims it was just a joke and that he didn’t know you couldn’t swim, for if he had, he wouldn’t have done that.”

“Logan do you think we can stop by the courthouse, so I can talk to them about Dev and his situation.” Asked Virgil.

“Sure, but what if those reporters who were at the hospital go there next?”

Virgil stared out the window shivering at the thought. Roman snapped his fingers “I’ve got an idea! We'll dress up in disguises!! It'll be like a Disney original movie! I already have so many ideas!”

“Then back to the house then?” asked Logan.

“No, to the THEATER!” replied Roman dramatically.

@thatsthat24 @thejoanglebook @tallykat3 @oresamawesome @immacrazyfangirl @anxietystatement @bunny222 @wooflesthatwoof @wicked-rosie @tsfanart @anxiousangelvirgil @iris-sanders-athena @randomslasher @youtuberswithalex @just-an-anxious-mess @ts-storytime @lilkrazykat

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sugarglider-s · 6 years ago

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OH THANK GOODNESS, GETTING THE EXCUSE STORY RIGHT IS KEY 👌👌👌

Logan being level headed and Roman being an actor is REALLY coming in handy for believable excuses

“And me and Patton can handle ourselves” ‘especially now’ WISJWIFBIXKABEKDO ROMAN IS SO FUCKING FUNNY

UHHHHH MR AND MRS FOSTER,,, PAT ISNT SICK ANYMORE ILL TELL YA THAT MUCH,,

OH DAMN!!! Pat feeling real guilty for lying is makin my heart hurt,,, my poor lil boy,,,

VIRGIL OH FUUUUCK!!!! GET YOURSELF TOGETHER BOY!!! STAY CALM OR NOBODYS GONNA BELIEVE YOU!! (Also “CLUB AU!” I’m just,,, fuckign crying cause that’s so funny)

Also, can I just say that the way this is written is fuckin SPECTACULAR!!! Like FUUUCK dude, I can SEE the scenes cutting off and finishing the previous ones AND ITS AMAZING

AAAAAAAAA I LOVE LOGANS PARENTS!!! IM GONNA FUCKIGN CRY THEYRE SO SUPPORTIVE OF THEIR SON AND AAAAAA

HI WOW I LOVE ROMAN’S MOM AND PATTONS PARENTS, LIKE,,, FUCK WOW THEYRE AMAZING

OH NOOOO!!! YOU GUYS BETTER EXPLAIN WHO THOMAS IS REAL FUCKIN QUICKLY, CAUSE CONCLUSIONS ARE BEING DRAWN AND THEYRE NOT GOOD

PATTON NOOOOOOOOO!!!! :((( THE CHURCH THING IS KILLING ME!!

Hi YES I feel EXACTLY what Virgil was doing with the tucking into himself because there’s just SO MUCH LOVE, LIKE I DO THAT SHIT CONSTANTLY

WOOOOOO THEYRE TEXTING!!!! (ALSO “Mr. Sanders”???? FUCKIGN HELL THATS SO CUTE)

ROMAN CALLING PATTON “Peaches” IS THE CUTEST THING AUDJISJSKDK

WHRIXKSNDIOD I LOVE HOW MUCH LOGAN CARES ABOUT VIRGIL!!!! LIKE,,, AS SOON AS V MENTIONED HE WAS A BIT FREAKED OUT LOGAN WENT INTO COMFORT MODE AND IM SOBBING THEYRE SO CUTE,,,

AAAAAAAA I LOVE PAT AND RO!!! PAT IS ABOUT TO CUDDLE THE HELL OUTTA RO IF HES FEELING REAL BAD

AAAAAAAAAAAA WOW HI I LOVE ONE(1) GAY SPIDERDAD AND HIS FANTASTIC USERNAME

“Sorry, it was already sending” “it’s alright bud” wOW OK MY HEART IS FULL OF LOVE

EVERYONE ACCUSING LOGAN OF BEING A ROBOT AND PATTON BEING THE ONLY ONE TO DISAGREE IS ADORABLE

EVERYONES REACTION TO PAT DEFENDING LO IS HILARIOUS AIEIFJSKWK

Me @ Thomas, who wants to make the best impression he can in front of all the kiddos parents:

“So... you’re gay?” WIWNFIENXLAL WHAT A PERFECT CONVERSATION STARTER

HI IM CRYING OVER THOMAS TALKING ABOUT HOW HE HAD TO HIDE THE FACT THAT HE WAS GAY, AND THAT HE FELT ALONE AND EIFJWOJFJAOSK I FEEL SO MANY EMOTIONS RN!!!

AUNT PATTY!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

ALL OF THE PARENTS TALKING ABOUT THEIR KIDDO AND HOW THEY WERE AFFECTED BY A TRAGIC SITUATION HAS ME ON THE FUCKING FLOOR SOBBING!!! AAAAAAAA!!!

“It’ll take time, we know.. but whatever it is that you’re doing for these boys, please continue” AAAAAAAAAAAA WOW YOU SEE THAT??? THATS ME FUCKIN CRYIN!!! OH MY GOD!!!!

“Also... I thought you guys would look hilarious in these and I was right” WISNDKWKDNEKAK PERFECT 👌👌👌

“Um, I think I’m stuck, help.” “Shit” EJEEIXHAKKW EVERYONE GO HOME THIS IS THE PEAK OF COMEDY

Hey can I just say that I love Logan being the first to do new spider related stuff??? LIKE I LOVE MY BRAVE SMART BOY SO MUCH!!! AAAA!!

Also; Roman being the next to follow Logan out of pure spite is beautiful

EVERYONE FALLING OFF THE TIGHTROPE LIKE A STACK OF DOMINOS IS SO FUNNY 👌👌👌 THATS QUALITY CONTENT FELLAS!!

“The fact that he was packing snacks and water for them didn’t help him with his argument” THOMAS YOU’RE A MAMA BIRD AND YOUVE GOTTA ADMIT IT, YOU STUBBORN BASTARD

AAAAAAA ITS THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND, MJ!!!!!

“Aw, but then I wouldn’t be able to see your cute masked face” MJ YOU’RE SUCH A TEASE AND I LOVE IT

“I wouldn’t have to keep doing it if you’d just stop taking this alleyway.’ Thomas said with a fond look” OKAY HI 911 I NEED A FUCKIGN AMBULANCE, THE CUTE IS DESTROYING ME

MJ MAKING THOMAS STUTTER A WHOLE LOT IS THE MOST ADORABLE THING EVER!!! AAAAAA!!

“See you ‘round, Tiger” THE BEST NICKNAME EVER 👏👏👏 IM GONNA DIE THEYRE SO CUTE

PFFFFFF THE BOYS ALL EAVESDROPPING IS HILARIOUS, AND SO IS ALL THE TEASING

“To think I thought he was a distinguished gay” ROMAN, HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU EVER ASSUME HES ANYTHING BUT A DISASTER GAY LMAAOO

“Eight laps!” WFEJDKANEJSK THE BOYS PLAYED WITH FIRE AND THEY GOT BURNED

THIS IS AMAZING AND I LOVE YOOOOU!!! 💕💕💕

Turns Out Being a Super Hero Is Actually Really Gay! - Chapter 4

So, for those of you that don’t know your main bitch here got a job so that’s why this update took so long. I’ve been searching for a job for weeks and I finally was able to get one so now I can bring me in some cash money so that I can live as a functioning human being in society. Anyways, once more, this fic wouldn’t be possible without the beautiful brains of @sugarglider9603 and @ask-spiderverse-virgil who ignited flame into this au. So without further ado please ENJOY!!!

Trigger Warning: Mention of death and people passing away. Don’t worry nobody dies!!!

Master Post

Beginning

Next Chapter

After they quickly exchanged numbers with each other the boys hurriedly made way back home. To their surprise they made it back quicker then they anticipated before remembering that oh yeah, they had spider powers. But even then, their parents were less then thrilled to find that their children came home late. Thankfully, they all made sure to get their story straight (ha) before they got home.

“Where have you been, Logan?” Mrs. Quinn fretted “You said you’d be home an hour ago?”

“Sorry Ummi, we got, uh, carried away,” Logan fibbed “lot of notes to go through and a lot of things to be discussed.”

“You still could have called us to say you were coming home late,” Mr. Quinn said sternly “you know how we worry about you being out late at night by yourself.”

—

“But I wasn’t by myself,” Roman said as he helped his mother with the dishes “Patton was there and so were Logan and Virgil.”

“Sí mijo, pero no los conozco,” Mrs. Marigold explained angrily “a Patton sí, pero los otro dos no sé cómo están. Y luego están caminando ya muy tarde, esta peligroso.”

“We’re fine Amá, really,” Roman assured “there’s four of us and me and Patton can handle ourselves just fine.”

‘Especially now,’ Roman added in his head.

—

“That’s not the point, paloma,” Mr. Foster sighed “you said you were going to be home at a certain time and we expected you to be here at a certain time. If not, you should have at least called us.”

“Especially since you’re still sick, Tesoro,” Mrs. Foster added “what if you or Roman had another fainting spell?”

Patton frowned guiltily, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, he had to lie again and he hated it. “I’m fine now Mamma, I promise. We just lost track of time is all, we wanted to get the project done as quick as possible so we won’t be stuck on it for too long. Then we just started talking and stuff.”

—

“What in the world were you talking about that took so long?” Mrs. Storm asked, she was worried and a bit angry but she never once raised her voice. Virgil always appreciated that about his parents, always trying to understand and work with his anxiety but never coddling him like he was made of glass.

Even so, Virgil was still really anxious and ended up blurting out, “Club au! I mean, we’re clubbing – I mean, we were discussing a club!”

Mr. Storm gave his son a curious look, “What sort of club were you discussing?”

Virgil tugged at the ends of his beanie, “Uh, um…a c-club of…gay – I-I mean, uh, L…LGBTQ+ club.”

Keep reading

#tw angst #sugarreacts #sugartalks #spiderverse au #fic

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