#it still happens now sometimes but I'm much better at catching the spirals and stopping them

[a-commas-a-pause]

For me, learning about the less-famous symptoms/presentations of autism cleared a lot of things up regarding this kind of experience. Plus realising that I'm just Way more prone to anxiety than most people and it's likely a brain chemistry thing that I can't really do much about. And also realising that even though I did have one of the most idyllic childhoods it's possible to have, no one goes through life without incidentally accruing little micro-traumas here and there. Especially if you're neurodivergent. Some of my worst childhood memories ever are things like... being told off by a teacher I respected. And I'm incredibly privileged for that! So many people have much worse memories. Most of mine are honestly things that simply Are Going To Happen Sometimes, Sorry. And I had to learn to deal with e.g. being rejected by someone whose opinion I valued. That's a universal human experience! It's part of life! But also - the fact I still remember those experiences years later means that they affected me strongly and it's ok for me to take that seriously and treat myself gently with respect to those memories. I am a very ✨ sensitive ✨ person and that has its benefits (tends to go hand in hand with perceptiveness, for one thing. Also I'm like 90% sure that it's not just the negative emotions that I get at extra high volume but also at least some of the positive ones) but it also has its drawbacks and those drawbacks are real and legitimate.

It's also actually been really worth knowing/accepting that I'm (heavy quotation marks) "sensitive". Because it makes it a lot easier to avoid harmful knee-jerk reactions. I have a conscious policy of keeping my emotional responses to things (often disproportionate, and wildly illogical) as far away from my irl actions as possible because I know there's often no particular foundation to my anxiety. Like I get where the ''trust your gut'' people are coming from - often your subconscious is telling you something useful - but personally I'm a big proponent of "trust but verify" when it comes to gut feelings. And not jumping to conclusions. Rather than wasting energy fighting my own mind with guilt about how I "should be" more resilient, I accept that I'm gonna be feeling a lot of feelings and as much as I'm able I account for that. I used to get in horrible arguments with friends and family because me emotions were just So Loud but I felt like I had to muscle through and continue a conversation because otherwise I'd be weak. I'm getting a lot better about Not doing that these days, and from the outside it seems like I've become a more chill person, but I really haven't. I'm still as much of a wound ball of stress as ever. I'm just consciously choosing to direct it differently - and giving myself more and longer breaks than I was ever allowed to have, back when I was on a strict school schedule.

Anyway I definitely don't have all the answers (or really any answers that you've not already thought of, I suspect) but you're not alone in this, I promise. It happens to me too.

Sometimes I get sad and frustrated thinking about how I had a normal childhood with good parents and incredible privileges and accommodations, and I avoided almost all common adverse and traumatic events, and yet my entire life has felt in my body like I'm being chased through a torture labyrinth by a hateful God

Like okay when i was like 10 I got a regular stomach bug while I was spending the night at mamaw's house and I had a full-blown trauma response to it. I started having panic attacks so bad I thought I was going to die. I remembered every single detail of the night I got sick and developed weird superstitions about objects I'd interacted with. I never wore any of the clothes I had been wearing ever again, except my socks, which I didn't touch for like. 6 or 7 years.

This wasn't an isolated incident. I have searched my memories desperately for some kind of deeper trauma that underlies the state of mental health disaster I've constantly been in as far back as I can remember, and I've got nothing. I was just born too psychologically fragile to be alive.

[valley-of-headcanons]

Hi! So...I was reading your harvey x bold!farmer and I know the request didn't want "a downright flirty farmer who winks at him and teases him" but now I keep wondering how Harvey would react to this...

harvey with an aggressively flirty!farmer || headcanons

our favorite doctor is certainly showing his bashful side now ...

warnings: suggestive hinting, nothing explicit but definitely implicit.

requested by: @gangrelispunk , hi!! tysm for the request!! definitely had me thinking about this too after i was done with the request! super cute, and the harvey stans are definitely getting fed. hope you enjoy! <3

• Harvey is an incredibly put together man! He's a doctor, he's very accomplished! He seemingly has all of his shit together, and wouldn't be phased by a lot! ... but, he does have a few weaknesses. And when you come to town, a farmer who has an incredibly flirty attitude towards him ... oh, he's in for it now. This poor boy honestly doesn't know what to think!

• When he first met you, Harvey was trying his best to keep his cool. He found you very attractive, and you had a good vibe! However, Harvey really didn't want to mess this up! He is not one to come on too strong, or to really 'come on' at all. But you ... you were certainly a different story. During your conversation, you were VERY flirty. There were tons of statements that were just suggestive enough to make him think. The last note you left him with was a gentle wink as you walked away.

• “Hello, it's nice to meet you! I'm Harvey, the town's doctor. Please stop by if you need anything ... oh, you'll be stopping by quite often? Do you have a medical condition ...? Oh ... just to see me? Well- ah- that's- ... that would be nice, I believe, as long as there's not someone I'm already working with ... you know just how to distract me? Well, not while I'm working, that's my only request! ... huh? What does that mean? ... oh- ... goodbye?”

• As you two start getting friendlier with each other, you turn the flirting up a couple notches. More suggestive remarks, more winking, maybe a few playful nudges thrown in once you know that he's comfortable with it. Some of these flirtatious remarks go over his head, but when he catches onto a few of them? Oh, he's done for. His face morphed into shades of red you'd never seen before, and his speech was pretty broken. Harvey, a put together man, was spiralling in front of your eyes. What a sight to see.

• “Wh-what? That was ... that wasn't an innuendo, was it? ... only if I want it to be ...? What does that even mean?! I- ... it's not written all over my face, that's just my natural complexion ... I am ... sunburnt ... in ... winter ... okay, maybe that wasn't the best excuse, but just- ignore it! It just does that sometimes, uh- uhm ... I apologize for my behavior, what you said just took a toll on my brain ... wait- what does that wink mean?!”

• As your time together passes, you two inevitably start dating. With your flirting, it was bound to happen eventually! Harvey is still a mess, but it gets better as he gets used to it. He loved how much you show your attraction and love for him with absolutely no shame. He finds it sweet, oddly enough. He does, however, get super embarrassed if you flirt in front of other people. He loves you, but he likes to keep that stuff private!

• “Hi, my love. Are you making sure to take enough breaks today? You can step by my office if you need to rest in air conditioning, I don't mind ... you'd come by? That's great! ... y-you'd what?! N-no, not in my office! You- no- that's irresponsible and would possibly get my license revoked! ... f-fine, we can when I get home- ... wait- what does that mean?!”

• Harvey's brain is certainly short circuited. He's incredibly flattered, though. This man is not used to being loved so unapologetically, and he adores every second of it. He may get flustered sometimes, but he wouldn't trade it for a moment. You have to admit, he's pretty adorable when he's flustered. It seemed like a win-win for both of you!

[nana-rierie]

Mastermind | Mitsuya Takashi

This can only end in two ways; you either get your self a boyfriend or you embarrassed yourself in front of your friend's other friends during her wedding. Aside from your pride, what more could you lose? Well, for starter, you could lose your friend, but Hina knows how much stupid you can be sometimes so that's not really a threat. Second, if this fails, you'll be remembered as the 'lady who tried to hit on someone but failed miserably'. And third, you might annoy the guy you're trying to get your hands on and he will remember you as the weird creepy lady. Not a tasteful outcomes, but you'll take the risk. Because the man you're trying to get is not just any man, it's the Mitsuya Takashi. What more can you ask for, right?

Spotting Hina talking with her husband and his friends, you decided it's time to set your plan in motion. Thank god your dress was long or else you'll have to think of a much better plan to get that man's attention - not like your plan now was any better tho.

You took a sip from your champagne and waited till Hina's eyes catch yours. And that's not a hard thing to do, considering Hina was busy attending to guests that her eyes keeps flickering here and there. But you felt bad using your friend and her wedding just so you could snatch a conversation with a guy.

With a sighed, you decided to give Hina another gift. Not a wedding gift, but an apology one.

When Hina's attention turned towards your direction, you smiled at her and raised your glass. In turn, she motioned for you to come forward. Putting the glass down, you composed yourself and reminded yourself of your plan.

Hiding a smirk, you walked with confidence. Kicking your dress underneath while walking and trying to time the perfect fall, you were unaware of a running Sano barreling towards you. Luckily, you have enough reflex to avoid him and spiral down the floor, but your sudden turn made you trip backwards. And your dress created a tangled mess, even Mikey was not spared.

This wasn't the fall you were planning, so while in the motion of falling backwards, you pray that Hina catches you or one of the couple's friend, you removed the thought of having Mitsuya catch you, considering the distance, Hina would be the nearest one. the bad news is, if no one get's to you in time, you might have a concussion or worse - die, if you did, you swore you will haunt down Sano and get a revenge on what he did. Which might be a bad omen to the newly wed couple.

Closing your eyes, you braced yourself from the impact. Only to feel a solid chest behind you and stop your fall. A hand was placed to your waist and shoulder to steady you. And you felt a warm breath tickled your neck when the person who catch you spoke. "Oi Mikey! I said carefully, and don't run around recklessly."

Mikey, the man who tripped - a karma you think, because he decided to disrupt your perfectly crafted plan (not really) - but was still able to balance himself not make an spectacle, smirk and said, "Heh Mitsuya, you worked fast." And with that he left.

The man behind you snickered.

Meanwhile, you were left there confused and went rigid when you felt his chest vibrate and felt a warm puff of air behind your ear. You tensed up and all the conversations you played inside your head once your plan work, was thrown out the door. Now your just standing there awkwardly with Mitsuya's hands on your body. That thought was dangerous too. Goodness.

"Should we let you sit down first? I think you were surprised by what happened." You could only nod your head. Cause what were you supposed to say? 'Yes I'm surprised but I actually like what happened. By the way, do you like kids? And do you think you can still design my wedding dress even if we're busy preparing our wedding, oh and also, what motif do you like? -'

Mitsuya withdrawn his hands from your waist and shoulder once he's certain you're able to regain your balance. You were shocked by your own self control when no whimpers came out of your lips when he decided to distance himself from you.

You gasped when he bent down and started fixing the tangled ends of your dress. When he stood up, he smiled and asked, "May I hold your hand?" You turned to him surprised.

Was he seriously asking you? Oh goodness, the bare minimum yet it's so hot. "Y-yes." With a smile you held out your hand. He took yours and led you to a table. You looked back to Hina to apologize only to see her smiling brightly and her husband and friends were smirking and snickering amongst themselves.

You turned back to Mitsuya and witness him pull a chair for you to sit. Once sat down, he went beside you and sat too. You avoided his gaze by flickering your eyes everywhere. Your eyes went to Yuzuha, who was across the room, she was smiling and made a thumbs up. Thinking she was applauding you for having Mitsuya's attention now and not ranting to her how much you like him, you were also about to smile and make some hand signal when the man beside you laughed softly, affectionately you would say, but you're not yet delirious.

In your periphery, you saw Mitsuya smile and made a thumbs up signal to Yuzuha. Raising a brow, you were about to ask him what that was about when Hakkai, made his appearance. "Taka-chan, Yuzuha said you were so smooth in catching Y/n, she thought Mikey would mess up and almost get Y/n in an acci - oh..."

The atmosphere around the two of you became heavy and you saw Hakkai slowly back away. Mitsuya then turned to you and smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, you weren't actually supposed to trip." You burst out laughing after what he said.

"Were you planning on making me fall and then catch me?"

"No. Hina was just supposed to call you over and introduce me to you. But Yuzuha decided to play matchmaker and involve Mikey."

"That's sweet of them. But I'm gonna get them back for that."

"Well, Yuzuha hates the Haitani brothers and Draken has Mikey's stash of Dorayaki."

The both of you laughed and you started planning a way to get back on the two of them while Mitsuya just smiled and gives comments here and there.

It was, on the day of Hina and Takemichi's wedding, a silent war was made. The prank war only lasted for three months because Mitsuya decided to conspire with the two and plan the greatest prank war by involving the gang, in asking you to be his girlfriend. Needless to say, the whole thing became chaotic that involved a wasted Haruchiyo, Peh and Pah thrashing the venue - it was the Shiba's house so at least you got something out of it -, everyone agreeing to have Draken as the best man, Chifuyu crying and wanting Peke J beside him, Takemichi crying and wanting Hina to marry him, everyone just watching shit goes down, and Hanma having all of it in his camera.

[emeraldsandamethyst]

Character Characterization in Ghost Biology is Weird AU

It's ya Tumblr redacted gender here (this joke will age very well totally yes)

catch up in the master post [here]

I think I forgot to mention this because it's such a given to how I write Danny but Danny is trans; other traits I write, he has chronic pain, ADD and i write him stimming which can be either or both ADD/autistic things (and probably other things idk I'm no expert) i have ADD myself so I'm writing my experience, I'm not autistic to my knowledge so all I've deliberately done when writing him is give him stims; his stims aren't always healthy, he bites as a stim and tends to bite his hands or tail (very hard, especially when ghost. He will make himself bleed) but Sam or Tucker can usually redirect him to something else like a pillow or whatever; he also stops himself from hand flapping (usually) but he does do it; and shoves his hands against his ears and grinds his teeth sometimes when stressed (he's always grinding his teeth in ghost fights); oh right and he has a death scar as a ghost that he feels in both forms (Lichtenberg spirals/fractals from his hand across his chest to his opposite leg and foot)

in this AU I've given Danny two (2) obsessions as a teen, Space and Control; i love me some protection obsession Danny don't get me wrong I just went with this for this AU to make Vlad and Danny better foils because

Vlad has (3) obsessions in this AU Research and Control and Family

Vlad has only shown up once so far, alas, but he is running around doing things

Danielle's initial Obsession is Family, during the events of Kindred Spirits she develops a Control Obsession; I intend for her to keep two Obsessions until adulthood

once Danny has his baby his ghost side matures to adult and he starts developing a new obsession; right now I'm not set on what it is. It might be protection or it might be something else

Danny and his baby (Baby Phantom until they awaken/are born and Danny names them Neil) are both ice core; Vlad is fire core; Danni is a wind core

I think I mentioned it before but anyone that lives in Amity Park might be liminal. To elaborate, if they live within Danny's haunt (amity park and parts of elmerton and the rural outskirts) and are claimed by Danny then they WILL be liminal to some extent. If someone lives in Amity Park (Danny's Haunt specifically) but hasn't been claimed by Danny they can still become liminal due to ectoplasm levels but it's just a chance thing. in the case of Danny claiming them, the haunt is literally infusing itself into them to give itself more influence. It's entirely subconscious and beyond Danny's control (the haunts are the ghosts in this au, sort of, and haunts act as a kind of immune system)

So 'Team Phantom' are all liminal.

The only person that is aware of their liminality as of the beginning of this AU is Valerie Gray. She's liminal enough that she's starting to develop an obsession which does not necessarily mean a liminal person has a core, but they probably do; Valerie is liminal enough she's starting to infuse her dad's apartment with her energies during sophomore year; Danny cedes her dad's apartment (a bigger area than just the apartment or the complex, a lot of territory for someone without a core but not enough to make Valerie drain herself sick) to her and it starts the process of becoming her haunt; it's a much much slower process than it was for Danny for multiple reasons

Ghosts have family groups called Fraids (which Danny doesn't really know about because he has no ghost parents to teach him these things) and Fraids consist of Family-By-Birth, Family-By-Choice, Family-By-Theft and Family-By-Nest; I think the first two are fairly self explanatory; i'm also p sure the phandom has a better grasp of Family-By-Theft than I do;

Family-By-Nest is the term I'm using for ghosts that join together to raise children, it's a very specific thing that happens when a new ghost is born/awakens; when the new core is ready it reaches outside of itself seeking protection and care, any one that responds by offering and accepting this becomes bound to the baby and to a lesser extent anyone else that accepted the baby; in Danny and Neil's specific case, Danny had been storing a LOT of extra power (since y'know he's OP like that) and it gave all of his fellow parents-by-nest their own cores once the process finished.

Danny's fellow parents-by-nest are Sam, Tucker, Jazz, Danielle, Valerie and Dash

Jazz and Danielle are family. Entirely and totally absolutely platonic siblings. Jazz family-by-birth and Danielle family-by-theft.

Danny is polyamorous (prefers polyam over poly) and bi and ace (not sex repulsed, he likes romance and making out best but is cool with other more intense stuff); his partners (in something like a 'normal' dating relationship) are Sam and Dash (they are with Danny only not with each other); they don't have a label for their thing but Tucker is aro/ace and if he knew the term would be cool being called Sam and Danny's queer platonic partner (QPP); Valerie and Danny have been hate-flirting for years, I'm just calling it pitch, sorry. Val and Danny are pitch, they just have no idea what the feelings are or mean up until Rivalry [on AO3 here] and even then only Valerie gets something like an explanation of what it is.

This is already so long again. Uh. Right, core types and obsessions.

Dash, earth core, romance obsession [his obsession actually forms before his full core]

Sam, growth core, night obsession

Valerie, electric core, protection obsession

Jazz, fire core, research obsession

Danielle, wind core, family and control obsession

Danny, ice core, space, control obsession with 3rd forming

Neil Fenton (Baby Phantom), ice core, space obsession (@floralflowerpower has way more fleshed out ideas about baby ghosts and things, she uses the term nursery obsession to refer to babies imprinting an obsession from parents her stuff is super cool you should check it out)

And I suppose I'll end with a description of Neil. They're half ghost like Dad, when human they have red hair and purple eyes (because it's not cloning it's recombination of DNA and to simplify irl red hair is the most recessive and I decided purple eyes are as/more recessive than green, ergo Danny carries those genes even if they don't express for him); when first born they have pale blue skin, pointed ears green hair and (glowing) green eyes. After meeting Frostbite they imprint on him as family-by-choice and after that when ghost they get lil horns and their arm gets spooky translucent green with charred bones in it

Oh spirits i haven't even described adult!Danny eff. Okay this is what I'll end with (i hope)

This change happens literally when what's left of the energy he instinctively collected and then pushed into family-by-nest and Neil returns to him

Human he's as tall as Jack (6'9") and built like a long distance runner. He looks like an adult in their mid twenties (before he still looked just as 14 as he had when he died);

Ghost, when he's got legs he's 7' when he's got a tail he gets to be a long noodle boi as a treat (like, absurdly long if he had a mane of hair ppl would totally call him a dragon like an eastern style one) I'm imagining like 30ft tail but the exact length isn't important, him long boi is what important;

he's got icy blue skin, pointed ears now, and a forked tongue (he's had lil fangs as a teen and has bigger fangs now) the fangs are blunted not sharp, he has to use force to break skin can't do that on accident or well he can but it's not because he forgot his fangs are sharp it's because he did it to himself and his pain tolerance is stupid high and he didn't notice how much force he was using; he's never going to be that distracted with a partner to accidentally bite Sam or Dash and it's not an accident with Val

His Phantom jumpsuit/hazmat suit changed, maybe lil bit more white, now with neon green accents and a neon green gear circling the D P logo with (not being worn as goggles but up in his hair mimicking horns) Fenton style goggles with purple lenses

Once he learns ghost parents are supposed to have lil pouches like marsupials or seahorses (Ember tell him in Phantom's Lullaby [on AO3 here]) he manages to give himself one (it's not shape shifting tho it's a permanent change to his 'default' body)

Basically his adult body, both forms, was subconsciously influenced by what he thinks dads are: big, bright/colorful, and loud; though as a human the most he could do was be big (and accidentally be loud too r i p)

Whew okay, I think that's it for now? If you have Questions feel free to send me an ask

[becausethathappens]

Will you please write a super angsty fic where Link is freaking out because he thinks the wedding vows he has written aren't good enough and Rhett helps him go over them and make corrections and says they're perfect but also, just says the vows he would say for Link if it was them like it should've been because he's heartbroken and Link can tell but their hands are tied and they don't know what to do so they soldier on without saying a word, but wordlessly communicating lifelong love and misery and everything, maybe comfort as well?

i'm really really sad and i can't shake it off and i really want some good angst and hurt/comfort and i really love you, maura, you're awesome

I don't do unhappy endings, anon. I'm confident you don't either. In fiction or otherwise. So, pardon this if it’s not what you expected.

Please enjoy? This was done a little hastily to share it with you (and I should be writing other things per usual) but I've had a rough week and I want to hopefully make someone smile. (I have way angstier stuff in the drafts and I will be sure to get those out eventually, too.) You’ll feel better soon.  🤞  Thank you! 💞

-———————-

now or forever

4k - Rhett writes Link vows.

If you were my boy, Blue

I’d bathe you in honeys (sp?)

I’d sing write you a love song

I’d shoot you a star**

If you were my boy, Blue

There ain’t nothing in this life I wouldn’t give

From my heart, to my toes, to my fingers, my nose (**)

Whatever it takes just to watch you live 

continue to ‘ ’ grow with you like a vine ‘round a rose 

If you were my boy, Bue

I wouldn’t want you all for myself

There’s no star bright enough to match your lightin’

In sickness, blue, so certainly while we have health

Hand in hand, no longer fightin’

What’s destiny (**)

You and & me

If you were my boy, Blue

I'd marry you

&

Thank God for Rhett. Giving him, delivering him, blessing him with Rhett.

Link is in the middle of a spiral (what he’ll later recognize as a panic attack) when Rhett arrives, the eve of his wedding. Bailing him out of this with pen, paper, and a smile.

Link has always been good at improv.

Though Rhett tended to find the words to start. These were his own vows and Link has been putting time to sit and start them off for weeks. Now that he has to, he’s dumbfounded, despite being deeply in love.

Amidst all the planning and chaos, writing his vows was such a given that Link left it as priority sixty-seven on a list of many more.

Unfortunately, even as busy as they’ve been, that list was shredded with the “who gifted what” tracking sheet (both literally, accidentally, and figuratively) back around the bridal shower and it’s been anarchy ever since.

So he thanks God for Rhett, who’s here, to stop another needless disaster from happening.

That same generous God, however, watches him plagued with thoughts of utter devotion at Rhett’s willingness to drop everything on a weeknight and rush over to help Link find his words.

His lyrics, really, is what Link has in mind. Since they used to write songs together and this felt much the same. He’s been floundering all night and now that Rhett’s here, he knows he’ll at least get what he needs done. Even if it’s not all he wants, right now.

That same God seeks judgment on his every decision or flinch against His will, for any reason, to spite him.

For this reason.

He wants to smush Rhett’s face and kiss him. Deeply. He doesn’t.

Even if there were sometime in the past that he could get away with a platonic smooch, now he can’t. He simply could not prevent that from escalating.

So, he merely tightens his grip on the wrinkled scrap paper in his hand and scrunches his eyes.

“Why can’t it be you up there…” Link bemoans, loudly, in his frustration.

Rhett’s eyes widen, in horror, and Link slams his other hand at his mouth, rolling his eyes. “Not like - I mean - why can’t you go say my lines for me. You’re so much better at this kinda thing.”

“Let me read what you’ve got,” Rhett says.

After some review, Rhett sighs, not unkindly and sits down next to Link. “Let’s just talk through what you’re trying to say because, yeah, this reads like liturgy.”

“Ain’t is supposed to? It’s in a chapel!”

“What do you like about her?” Rhett asks, ignoring his nitpicking. “Christy?” Rhett stares at him, waiting, too upset for Link to chastise but clearly wanting to.

“She’s patient,” Link says, reminded by the similar. Rhett folds over the book to an open page and clicks the pen in his hand, writing that down. “A-And she’s kind. Like considerate, ‘specially with babies and little animals. Sh-She does this thing where she immediately drops to their eye-level to make sure they don’t feel unheard or seen. Probably ‘cause she’s always been so tall…”

Rhett’s still writing.

“Then when I’m sick, she forces me to rest. You know I hate that,” Link says, voice rising a little, at the memory. “But you know I need that. You won’t be the last to make me stop and smell the roses or take a break, once in a while.”

“Her hair, write, her hair - the way it looks in the sunshine. Like warm caramel with flecks of gold. She’s a vision, an angel. Especially when she’s wearing all white, like,” Link says, pausing to point to Rhett’s undershirt and pale grey sweats. “Makes blondes look ethereal-like, always has.”

“Oh, and her voice. Sometimes, the way her accent catches, well, you know she don’t like to sing like us, never has, but when she says certain things, asks a question the right way - it’s music. The way it harmonizes with my answer, reminds me of singing, reminds me of us.”

Rhett keeps writing, quiet, and focused.

After a short time, Link can’t stop and wants to crane over to see what he’s come up with. Rhett hands it over after crossing a final “t” somewhere on the page.

“Those’re good, Link, but I think you need to keep closer to what I wrote, leave out the stuff about me.”

“Stuff about you?” Link asks, having spoken in a stream-of-conscious style, Link forgets most of what he even said

Rhett looks away, shakes his head.

Distracted by the desire to read the rest, Link abandons the lingering questions he has about Rhett’s suggestion and response.

“These are great, man, thanks,” Links says, pushing a soft hand into Rhett’s side.

His eyes scan to the bottom where Rhett’s added a few lines about the journey, the marriage, all the ceremonial aspects of the day for him to close with, but then something more.

Something about him.

Rhett catches him catch it and looks further away. “I know Christy pretty well, too, y’know. Y’all are just alike, in that way. She might need some back-up vows, to have and hold.”

Link reads them.

“You know, just in case.”

Link looks up and tries to laugh.

He doesn’t laugh.

He goes back to reading them.

Rhett shifts uncomfortably, touches the back of his neck, and shuts his eyes.

“Rhett, these ’re…”

“I know, bo, you can forget ‘em,” Rhett excuses, still not meeting Link’s gaze. “You want me to… I can rewrite the others on a different - I can turn the page and write ‘em there so you can just…”

“Hey, hey,” Link interrupts him, mad at Rhett putting down his best friend, and eager to explain his actual thoughts. “Rhett, these are perfect. These are… I’m sad I can’t say anything as nice in return to you.”

Rhett finally looks up to acknowledge that and their gaze heats and lingers.

“Not that I…” Link stutters to clarify. “Y-You’d have to be a - if that’s something that was gonna - you know - if that was gonna work…”

His mind does it’s usual jump to a visual for the worst case scenario depicting the implication he stumbled across. Him out eight grand on the wedding. Not to mention a wife, a family, a future, a faith -

a friend -

Link gulps, pushing that back away, pushing them both forward, in his estimation.

It’s too much to bear to think about for another second. When he glances at Rhett, he can’t get a read on his face what he thinks about it, and that’s scary enough for him to want to abandon the concept altogether.

“Christy’s gonna love them.”

It’s enough, saying his fiancée's name, to ground him again. Enough to make it okay for him to grab Rhett’s palm and squeeze it in thanks, between them.

Rhett’s made his choice to give up on film school.

Link’s made his choice to give up on whatever schoolboy obsession he has with monopolizing all of Rhett’s days and nights. 

He’ll stick to the days or every other weekend, however they can still fit time together, is fine by him. This ceremony, tomorrow, feels as much about his graduation from friend to husband, and all that that entails.

They’re adults.

They both know there’s a lot of sacrifices to be made and this feels like the first time he’s really acknowledging how hard they’re going to be to make. He hopes they’ll still see each other.

He hopes their kids will get along.

He has a lot of hopes.

All of them involve Rhett.

There’s a lot he should write down for when Rhett finds his own bride to wed.

Link notices, suddenly, that Rhett is crying. The same part of him that's nearly broken the headwind of these conflicting emotions turns back to comfort him.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Link soothes, realizing he’s also still holding Rhett’s hand.

“‘M sorry,” Rhett intones, the words bubble up and out of him simultaneously, sounding like water draining in a filled sink. “And the night before your wedding, good Heavens.”

“Hey, I’ve been crying all week,” Link says, waving a hand at the stress that planning a wedding has kept put on him. “Nothing I haven’t seen in the mirror.”

Rhett laughs, rubbing a thumb over his own thigh in a way that brushes upwards against the place Link’s clasping his hand. Link nearly pulls his hand back, thinking Rhett’s trying to get him to sense his want for space, but when he meets his eye it’s clear he’d like nothing less.

“I think I’m just -” Rhett starts to say, trailing off. The light from the lamp on the far coffee table is the only thing on in the room. Link drops his gaze a few inches to try and see more of Rhett’s downturned eyes as he hems and haws. He squeezes their hands together, again, this time clasping it more firmly, still pressing Rhett’s large palm down from above. “I think I’m just a li’l jealous, is all.”

It’s the quietest admission he’s heard from Rhett since he told him he failed their chemistry mid-term in eleventh grade.

Link is also so lost at the innocence of the admission that he can only think of follow-up questions. “Of me?”

Rhett looks at him for a long, long minute and finally, when Link’s gaze remains confused for the whole length of the pause, he shakes his head, no.

Then he waits. 

He waits for Link to realize what he means.

But he’s still waiting when Link, oblivious, moves onward trying to comfort Rhett, instead of understanding him fully.

The tension in the room is palpable as Link talks, but only to Rhett, it seems. Only Rhett pictures air bags being deployed in a car safety video as metal hits cinder block. Only Rhett moves his hand, though it’s all it takes to dislodge them from each other completely.

“I know you’re gonna make an amazing husband some day.” Link is saying.

Rhett’s hand aches where cool air now surrounds it.

“I know your wife is gonna get to hear you say such wonderful things about her.”

Rhett wipes his hand of the misunderstanding on the cotton of his pants.

“I know she’s gonna say the same kind of things about you, when it’s your turn up there.”

Rhett mourns the idea that this would ever be requited.

“I know she’s gonna love you, just as much as I do, so she’ll have plenty to say.”

Rhett looks away, wiping the last of his tears from his eyes. 

 “I’ll make sure she has plenty of ideas where to start.”

Rhett pats Link’s leg, in camaraderie, and nods.

And that’s it. They shoot the shit, they make a plan to meet up at a donut place for the groomsmen’s breakfast to thank them for their help, before the ceremony, and they’ll talk things through if Link’s feeling jittery still. Then Rhett’s gone.

It’s not until the next day at eleven on the dot (everyone has an agenda to follow and every moment is accounted for) that Link understands Rhett’s pain.

His mother straightens his tie and flattens the edges of his suit. “You’ll wanna know I heard Christy looks like an angel in her dress, from the girls upstairs.”

“Those actual angels you been talkin’ to, Sue?” Rhett jokes, where he’s twisting his cummerbund around every so often, bored.

“Very funny, honey,” Sue ribs back. “From the cousins, Beth and Hailee Sue. Remember they’re friends with the hairstylist you got to do the curls for Christy’s hair, today? She was over last night getting Christy ready for bed with how to wash and dry it a special kind of way. They were there, too.”

Link starts to tune her out, since there’s a lot on his mind, but then she says more.

“She says the hairstylist was talking about how jealous she was of Christy, all night, getting to marry you,” Sue relays.

“Oh, mama, please,” Link dismisses. The compliments he’s been getting have felt faker than the toupee on his uncle Bruce. That girl has never even met him. “I’m the only person here people should be jealous of, who would be jealous of Christy,” he says, trailing off, muttering his reasoning as he did. “Marrying a trainwreck like me.”

Link looks up in the mirror where some of his friends continue to mingle in various states of undress. Rhett is already dressed, however, and staring straight at Link like he’s been caught with a hand in a cookie jar.

Link’s about to ask what’s wrong when he remembers his words. Then looks again over the planes of Rhett’s face.

Last night’s words slam back into his mind and Link’s mouth drops open.

The church organ belts out an opening flurry of notes before Canon in D begins playing loudly through the sound system built into the rafters above them. Link looks up to see one of the church staff at the door instructing them to join the bridal party to line-up.

Link’s mom dashes off to where she’s paired with her nephew, Link’s favorite cousin, to be escorted down the aisle.

Rhett sees Link’s face rushing through a wash of emotions from a distance, he nods to the staffer in silent understanding that he’ll handle it, and then they’re alone.

He walks up to Link and takes his hand. He squeezes it.

“Hey, you gotta go. We gotta go. It’s showtime,” Rhett insists.

Link looks around like a bomb went off, since in some ways it did, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Rhett seems to pick up on that. He squeezes Link’s hand again.

“I’ll get over it, Link, it’s okay,” Rhett whispers, on the verge of desperation.

That confirmation is enough to fully shatter Link.

Only for a moment. 

The music continues and Rhett keeps his hand hold.

They are adults. They are in love. They have to marry. 

None of these things can be helped.

“I’m gonna be so jealous of Her, too,” Link whispers back. He squeezes Rhett’s hand one last time, as they part.

They leave.

They walk straight.

They part again.

Until later.

They move houses and cities and states.

They move mountains, inside and out.

They move together.

Much later.

They join again.

They run crooked.

They return.

To one another.

Link has spent years worrying a ring that means too much to too few people.

In the beginning, when he cries himself to sleep at what he thinks has been the mistake of a lifetime, it’s His talisman. It reminds him of the expectations upon this life he’s made.

As the years pass, however, the adherence to the bogeymen of their childhood’s rules wears thin. It starts to strictly represent love and patience.

Sacrifice.

It begins to feel like a burden. A representation of what’s been lost, not what’s been found.

He contemplates taking it off, but believes that to be a betrayal of all that it stands for to the people he stands for. 

Then, one day, (surely mid-spin) he hears Rhett tell a story about wanting to change his ring.

He watches the silver twirl as Rhett explains.

He believes he was rushed into a certain type of marriage and a certain type of life by a certain type of person.

It’s a life that he’s grown to love but the ring represents a union forced by custom and not one that’s grown through devotion. 

His ring reminds him of that too often to be good for him.

Link twists his again at the admission.

So, Rhett’s thinking about replacing the ring.

Link returns home that night in a stupor. He’s sure he said one too many things to Rhett to emphasize how wild it felt to hear him talk about changing rings.

Any memories of that day, their wedding, bring up a rush of emotions that he’s never been good at sorting through.

Today’s admission makes him feel the same spur to make use of idle, betrothed hands he feels when he cleans the fridge.

He wants to clean the slate.

He finds an old DVD copy of their wedding ceremony that he paid to have converted from miniDV some years ago. Now he struggles to find a place to watch that DVD. How quickly time has flown by.

Eventually, he ends up in his son’s room - no one’s home for the remainder of the night but he and Christy - now, he’s sitting on a bean bag, squinting at the game console’s controller trying to get the joysticks to move to “play” on screen.

The ceremony bursts to life and, like it was yesterday, Link’s nerves fizzle awake.

About halfway through the video, Christy finds him like that and sits down next to him in a thwump absorbed mostly by the stuffing of the chair.

They watch themselves smile happily at each other and Christy takes his hand.

“Should I be happy or scared to find you alone watching this on a Saturday night?” she asks, wryly, squeezing his palm.

Link doesn’t know what to say. He’s caught up in Rhett’s bygone script being spoken on screen. Words about Christy and about Link that were not their own, declared loudly in front of the congregation.

“I don’t know,” Link admits, shrugging. He doesn’t. He squeezes her hand back.

“You wanna tell me what’s eating you?”

Link hesitates, but relents. He wants that clean slate, after all. “Rhett’s getting his wedding ring replaced.”

“Replaced?” Christy asks, balking.

“Replaced, yeah,” Link responds, sure he didn’t misspeak.

“With what?” she asks.

“Oh, some new one. Fancy thing, very cool, made of trees or something. Honestly he wears the other one, the slick black one more than his wedding band half the time. He says it feels like the old one? It’s the kind of ring you get in a bauble at a vending machine crank. So, he wants a new one.”

“Jeesh,” Christy says, making a face at the screen. The camera catches Rhett stealing glances at the couple, then at the crowd, beaming at all with unbridled pride.

“Wouldn’t you be mad if I did that?” Link inquires, still baffled at the idea.

“Well, no, but don’t you love your ring? Heirloom and all that,” she says.

Link cringes. “Yeah, yeah. Honestly, I do.”

“So?”

“So, I still kind of want to and I’m not sure what that means.”

They watch the screen together.

“Do you wanna stay married?” she asks, in a small voice.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

There’s a long pause.

“To me?” she asks, her voice even smaller.

“Yes,” he breathes in.

She squeezes his hand, her confidence built back up. She begs him to join her.

“And him?” Christy whispers.

They both look the screen, the lens centered on the two of them, but their gaze is mutually torn to where Rhett stands wiping a tear from his eye at Christy reciting the last of the vows that he wrote her. Wrote him. Wrote them both.

She squeezes his hand again.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

She leans her head on his shoulder.

“You should probably get another ring, then,” she jests. “We shouldn’t have to share everything.”

The slate is clean.

There’s a lot he wants to say to Rhett about it, but just as before, he’s relied on Rhett to give him the right words to say. So, instead of words, he starts wearing Rhett’s ring.

Then, a new one, when he realizes he can match him separate from the other, all told. Have something of Rhett’s, all to himself.

In his unspoken push towards something more, their hands now match along with their steps, as they walk forward.

On the last week in July, they get ice cream at the fifth place that month to mistake them for husbands, but the first one he hears Link crow an affirmative in response.

Rhett waits for him while he triple-tips the cashier (for the guess) and pays for their cones.

“Bad joke,” Rhett says, softly, but firm.

“Who’s kidding?” Link parries back, a smirk dancing it’s way across his lips.

Rhett watches him with a wistful look of disbelief.

“Link, we’re married,” Rhett warns him.

Link shrugs. “I know. I’m just waiting for you to figure that out and minding my ice cream here, all right?”

He’s got a mouthful of vanilla bean and extra cookie crumble, the next second, so his vow ends there.

Later, at home, Rhett startles Jessie awake when he fully realizes Link’s words.

He shakes her awake. He shakes them both awake.

“I’m in love with Link,” he says, like it’s a confession.

She kisses him because so is she. So are most people.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

Rhett repeats himself.

So does she.

They stare at each other under the cover of silk and moonlight.

“We’re married,” Rhett whispers, touching his hand to hers. Their rings clink, new and shiny.

“Yeah, and so are we,” she whispers back.

They fall asleep smiling.

The next day, Rhett sneaks up behind Link while he’s working and causes him to spill his cup of coffee. He gets the stink eye for only a minute because it’s the same length of time he can stand Link’s grumpy mug before he has to swoop down and kiss him on the lips.

“You figured it out,” Link says, grinning.

“I did,” Rhett chirps as he kisses Link more.

They take a car to their house. It’s filled with their love and the history of it; before, during, and after.

“What’s this?” Link asks, dazed in their post-sex glow, naked and alive.

He spots an old chord book of theirs from last time they wrote music.

“Oh,” Rhett says, bashful. “I came looking for you here this morning, hoping you slept over again, but, uh,” Rhett stalls, looks away and tries to take the songbook from Link’s hand. Link pulls it far enough he can’t reach. “You were already at the job.”

“And?” Link asks, using his spry, sinewy body as an advantage to slink away from the bed out of Rhett’s grip. He still has the book in hand.

“Those are your vows,” Rhett explains.

Link looks down and squints, confused. These aren’t the vows that Christy read at their wedding. He’s seen that video only a few months back and is sure of it.

“Our vows,” Rhett whispers, explaining further, at Link’s puzzled look.

“It’s a love song,” Link notes, marveling at the gesture. What it means to a young version of himself that once felt like they had surely cut out and mourned the possibility of this - all of this - ever happening. To have that thought coexist with the image of a nude, hulking tree trunk of a husband laid before him smiling up adoringly felt panoptic.

“So are you.”

Link begins to cry.

“Play it for me.”

Rhett wipes his cheek.

“Get my guitar.”

They sing twice more that night, always in harmony (not always in lyric), then spend the rest of their lives together doing much the same.

[astoria00]

On Cinder and the topic of abuse

To be honest my feelings and thoughts are still in a roller coaster after yesterday's episode, so I had trouble focusing on one topic in particular, so I'm just going about gonna try to start from one point and see where it leads.

On Salem and Cinder's relationship

Salem is switching her parental roles perfectly as they suit her. We never heard Cinder utter the 'Without you I am nothing' phrase in vol 4/5 before, so this could have been an indicator for Cinder spiraling down and equating Salem to her past abuser. As pleased at Salem looked the first time around, as thoughtful she appeared when it happened a second time. The thing is, she can't have Cinder believe her to be no better than her adoptive mom. And Cinder was very very close to snapping there.

I have always said that Cinder's egomania of sorts stems from how Salem has been treating her. She is the favorite, something that is the polar opposite of what she had experienced before. Salem made her believe she was so much more, she deserved more, that it was her destiny to be powerful. Something Cinder would substitute as caring about her.

That all changed after Beacon though. Of course I can imagine Cinder having been reprimanded before, but probably more in a mental way, isolation, being grounded, etc. Salem wanted to separate herself as far from Cinder's past abuser as possible. She was her savior after all.

But then Cinder failed in Haven, failed getting the winter Maiden powers 2 times already and disobeyed Salem's direct orders. This is where Salem becomes a direct parallel to her past abuser. She pushes Cinder down, doesn't acknowledge how hard she worked herself to the bone, ridicules her growing independent identity and even tortures her with the Grimm arm.

And then she suddenly stops and switches her mo, again separating herself from that person that takes glee in harming her.

She pushes Cinder to the edge of breaking just to build her back up again how she sees fit. And she is not done yet. She took Mercury, one of Cinder's 'assets', because she knows Cinder yearns to be free, to not be alone, to have bonds and be loved, even if Cinder herself doesn't know. She can't have that if course. Cinder is hers. Her vessel, her extension, so she needs to curb her own growth and identity. The first steps have already been taken. She made Cinder relive her past abuse through her, only to admit to her 'mistake' and almost apologizing for it. This has a huge impact on Cinder's mental state. She is going to question what she is experiencing under Salem now more than ever. After all, Salem wasn't like her adoptive mother. Salem stopped, Salem admitted she was wrong and that Cinder's should get what she wants after all. That she IS a person. And yet Salem successfully took one of Cinder's support system from her. She made Mercury, who Cinder did offer help and a purpose back then, things that weren't offered to her from Rhodes, reject her.

Salem started with Mercury. Emerald and Neo will be next. She is reinstating control over Cinder with all the manipulative tactics an abusive parent can come up with and that is truly scary.

The Chores song

As a lot of peoe have already pointed out, Cinder has been worked to the bones as a child, making her antsy and nervous when she is not doing anything. She has downright anxiety about the concept of doing nothing. Of course it has to do with Cinder being afraid of feeling worthless and wanting to proove her usefulness, but also it's a manner of escape for her. Thoughts have a habit of catching up with us when we have free time or are about to fall asleep. Cinder doesn't let herself experience rest, because she didn't want to think about her past. And our own thoughts can sometimes be crueler than any other person could be.

Then there are those few lines:

Shut your mouth and do your chores

I will tell you when and where you are needed.

I'll let you know when you're needed next.

And

No one said that you should think

Did you hear that my pet?

She thinks

She wants

Don't think, obey

Isn't it wonderful to see what impact childhood has on our minds? Children learn coping mechanisms and those are very hard to unlearn. That your life is of no use, aka without you I am nothing shows it like no other line. What Cinder needed was someone to tell her she matters and to take her away.

Another interesting thing to add:

Cinder slept in the cellar, with moonlight being always visible there.

Black out the sky

All things must die

Finally gets a whole new meaning now, doesn't it?

Sorry for the randomness, I just needed to get my thoughts out I think.

[appleflavoredkitkats]

Do you have any more info on the fiance situation in Las Nevadas au? :-D or just anything in that au in general (only if you want tho sbajjdkfL) since its vv cool <3 /p

▪︎Beep

i've talked about the fiances before but i'm down to expound on it a little further :DDD this is kinda half assed but still long so MSJDJD

tw: self-destructive behavior, memory loss, breakups (not too horrible i promise)

/dsmp /rp

quackity is definitely immensely hurt by his loved ones leaving him. it ruins him. he feels like his heart is left to bleed out every single day he sees that no one from the south is coming over. he has a telescope atop his hotel, the tallest building, which he uses to look closely at the south (where kinoko kingdom lies). on his free days, or sometimes in the afternoon when he doesn't attend the events, he sits on the roof and looks out at a distance.

i think the longest he's been out on the roof was when karl messaged their chat through the communicator. it was a simple “where am i”, and quackity was quick to respond. he instructs karl to go to las nevadas, assuming he was lost, so he basically cancelled every gig he had to observe his surroundings.

(turns out, he never came. quackity sat on that roof for 15 hours before he was pulled away by fundy.)

but their abandonment was never intentional. quackity knows there has to be something more to it, but it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

he at least also got word from sapnap. after much encouragement from schlatt, quackity finally was brave enough to send him a message. first, he sent a simple “sapnap? where have you been”, then a more desperate “what happened to us?”.

sapnap replies almost immediately that it threw quackity off, “been around, adventuring, getting away from things.” then the second one took a bit longer, “not gonna lie, i thought our engagement was off ever since we kinda. stopped talking to one another. you kind of left us, didn't you?”

and quackity is hurt. he's baffled, he's irritated, but he's fucking livid. schlatt has told him multiple times that he needs to control his anger a little bit better, but in times like this, no matter how petty it may be, he wanted to fucking wreck his room. and so he did— first he threw his communicator against the wall. it was still salvageable, so quackity decided to grab his glowstone lamp and toss it against the communicator. he flips his dresser, throwing it against his bed, and it bounces off and destroys his cabinet. when he looks at his right, he sees a window, and he raises his fist to punch—

and someone is grabbing back. “q, quackity, alex, please,” schlatt pleads. when did schlatt get to his room? “come on, self-destruction is my kind of thing,” schlatt adds, and it summons a smile from quackity's lips before a sob tears out. and it doesn't stop. quackity cries— and he doesn't cry often, especially in front of his coworkers or family or whatever they are. he hates it, he hates emotions— he tried to fucking suppress it all in las nevadas because all of this, all of these casinos and hotels and bars are meant to be his coping mechanism, his distraction. the tears always finds a way to seep through, though.

eventually, they do crumble to the ground, and they sit like that for a while. quackity crying against schlatt's blazer as schlatt merely rubs comforting circles on his back. eventually, fundy does come in with some snacks and a deck of cards, and it was enough for quackity to at least feel better for the rest of the day.

on another day, where quackity was supposed to have fun partying around and doing the same old shit he does every other day, a mysterious green, whorled portal appears in the middle of his casino. most of the staff and the customers stand back, but from the portal, a white-clad brunette falls from it. he doesn't look all to phased by his fall, but when he stands, he realizes the predicament he's in and immediately stiffens awkwardly.

quackity knows him. that's karl— the karl who somehow disappeared from the server for so long that quackity forgot he even fucking existed. what happened to him? why is he all white? why have his eyes become spirals? what's going on?

“hi,” karl greets casually, but his eyebrows are furrowed awkwardly, “uhm, where am i?”

“karl?” quackity says immediately. he stands in uncertainty before fundy nudges at him to go closer whispering “talk to karl, i'll be in charge of the event.” fundy claps twice and immediately announces that their slot machines will double in payout for the next hour, and the crowd immediately goes wild. karl seems a bit lost by the noise, but quackity quickly grabs him away from the crowds and out to the streets.

“gee, those people were. eager to waste their money. gosh darn rich people,” karl says, and quackity laughs, but his smile immediately drops when karl adds,” nevermind them, i guess, but uh, who are you, exactly?"

and quackity's heart churns. he's heard of a few memory loss cases in their server—it's quite scary to hear how common it's become to just lose yourself entirely—but he didn't think it'd apply to karl. he doesn't even know where karl has BEEN all this time. what happened? why does karl not remember? does sapnap know about this?

quackity decides to not reveal much immediately, so he puts on his typical charming façade and replies, “i'm quackity, or alex, any will do. i'm the owner of this place— las nevadas. it's a place for gambling, drinking, and well, fun! do you, uh, do you remember me?"

quackity sees karl visibly shift awkwardly, and it does summon a sigh out of quackity. “guess you don't, huh?” he says sardonically.

“time travelling kinda... ruins you, sometimes,” karl replies

time travelling...? is... is that what made karl leave? not make karl remember? when in the ever living hell did karl, the nicest, sweetest man he knows, ever been allowed to time travel?

“oh,” he just says instead, “well, uh, i was a close friend of yours."

"oh?" karl replies, “kinda like uhm, uh, do you know sapnap? or george."

damn. quackity's façade immediately melts— how does he know about them and not HIM? why did karl remember them and not quackity? why was he forgotten? quackity immediately hisses, turns away and responds, “i'm giving you a free hotel room for the night and i'm calling sap to pick you up. just walk seventy blocks to your right and talk to manifold, or something, christ you fucking irritate me.” he knows karl probably won't understand, and he knows he's breaking this already broken relationship even more, but he can't... he can't look at them the same way anymore.

karl does get to a hotel room, and quackity does visit him just to make sure everything is alright. thankfully, fundy did repair his communicator after his last tantrum, and he uses it to tell sapnap to pick karl up from las nevadas. sapnap doesn't ask where it is— he simply tells him “ok” and goes offline.

when sapnap arrives, he doesn't look as miffed as quackity expected him to be. he looks... well, definitely more composed than him and karl, but he still looked a bit tired. he has some new scars, but quackity guesses sapnap probably wasn't lying when he said he was out adventuring. before quackity could greet sap, sapnap enters the room abruptly and karl practically throws himself at sapnap.

and jealousy is a fickle thing, isn't it? quackity's heart is still torn, it's still bleeding, and it continues to do so the longer he stares at the sight of the other two. he withholds a scowl, mostly because he knows he might go on another temper tantrum if he doesn't, and he also knows he can't... he can't get mad at them. he's waited forever for this moment.

“wow,” quackity murmurs, and sap turns to him, “things really have changed."

sapnap sighs, “we built you a house in kinoko, but you never came."

"and i made las nevadas entirely for you as well." quackity responds, “i guess it's just... unfortunate timing, and all." it's silent for a few moments until, “i'm sorry”.

sapnap's look softens, “i'm— i'm sorry too.”

there's so much more words to say, things to clarify, stories to catch up on, but quackity wonders how worth it it is to cling onto his past. karl and sap's visit is quite... underwhelming, to say the least. but maybe it isn't underwhelming at all— maybe he just found a new purpose outside of them, and he's just... moved on. it hurt, obviously, but when he looks out of karl's hotel room window, he sees las nevadas. he sees the casinos he's designed for schlatt and fundy, and the bars he's designed for jack and sam, and the stages he's designed for charlie— it's just... different now. he loves karl and sapnap still, of course, but he's also been hurt by them, and he's grown into a different person from that hurt. he thinks sapnap has grown the same way as well.

but still, “you know you're invited to las nevadas if you ever want to visit again,” quackity offers with a melancholic smile.

sapnap sighs, but he mimics quackity's smile and nods, “i'll consider it.” sapnap pauses for a bit, then, “thank you for everything, quackity— i really do mean it. i hope... i hope you enjoy the life you've made for yourself here, kinda looks cool,” sapnap says, and his words were very soft and genuine— something quackity needed to end this chapter of his life with them.

“thank you too, i hope you guys do well too. take care,” quackity says, and sapnap and karl take their leave with simple goodbyes.

it isn't exactly forgiveness or getting back together but it's... closure. quackity's journey up to this point isn't exactly all smiles and rainbows, but he's happy where he is now. he just hopes sapnap, karl, and george are feeling the same as well.

[demonicheadcanons]

Can you please do a headcanon for Satan, Mammon& Lucifer for when their s/o gets drunk & starts crying &gets emotional(i usually don't show my true feelings & I only do so when I'm drunk I get emotional af I feel like I'm worthless & a burden to my mom as she gave up her entire life in raising me & well highschool & my best friend depression)it got dark real quick lol sorry about that)so I was wondering how the brothers would react it's fine if you don't want to do it thank you 😊have a nice day

AN: Feel better soon Nonny! You’re a whole person on your own and the people who are supporting you have made the decision to do so, rather than giving in to guilt, it might help to focus on being grateful for the choices they’ve made for you - you’re absolutely worth it :O Be safe, and I hope you find a safer coping mechanism!!

TW: Mentions of alcohol / unhealthy relationships with drinking, etc.

Reactions to an Emotional Drunk MC

Scenario: Satan, Mammon, Lucifer, and the MC are all in the human realm and are relaxing in a bar with some drinks.

Lucifer

- Lucifer is the one who shuts it down.

- He was feeling quite settled, and so had decided not to be so on top of everyone. It was up to you, Mammon, and Satan to make good decisions and take care of yourselves. He’d still be there, and he was still watching, but he also wanted to relax a little before he had to return back to the Devildom and start catching up on the work he’d missed out on.

- He was keeping an eye on you, in particular - you seemed to be uncomfortable but he wasn’t putting the pieces together properly until you’d downed yet another glass of something or other, some human liquor he couldn’t make out by colour alone, and then plopped down in the seat beside him.

- You seemed alright for a few moments, maybe a bit out of it, and his gaze flickered across the room again away from you until he heard a sniffle. He looks at you again, suddenly on edge. His hand is on your chin in seconds, tilting your head up towards him so that he could see your face better. Tears openly flow down your cheeks, and his heart skips a beat.

- He starts asking questions immediately, not letting go of your chin unless you grab his wrist or try to brush his hand away. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” He bristles out of no where, leaning in closer. “Did someone do something?”

- You rub at your eyes and just start gushing, and he’s at a loss for words as he listens to everything. You see his eyebrows furrow any time you say something negative about yourself, Lucifer’s shoulders still up and with him still leaning his entire body towards you, fully focused. He processes everything and, before you can continue putting yourself down, he gives you a sharp glare.

- It’s not that he doesn’t care, but he doesn’t see the point in this - he’d listen to you talk, listen to you get out everything you needed to, but this seemed counter-intuitive if you were going to spend the entire time putting yourself down. He sighs and pulls off his cloak, settling it around your shoulders before sitting slightly closer, looking out over the room as he talks.

- His words aren’t reassuring as such, full of concern masked in self-confidence. He tells you that you surely couldn’t be so bad; you were doing well amongst all the demons, you were resisting fairly well, within days you had half his brothers in your hands and under your control which meant you were either very smart, or stupidly caring. You’d made strides no one else could have. He levels you with a stare again. “I have no reason to lie,” he informs you, “and no reason to inform you of your own worth if I felt you didn’t have any.” The smallest smile forms on his face as he tells you, “You’ve proved yourself useful for me and Lord Diavolo, at least.”

- He watches you curl up in his coat and take in everything he’s said, and his chest hurts for a split second - humans really were so small and fragile. And yet you’d held strong until now, and even this wasn’t enough of a weakness to diminish your worth. He sighs again, excuses himself to fetch you both a glass of water - he’d let you cry it out, now, but you needed to be hydrated for that at least.

- When you’re sober and back home, he regularly checks up on you. He subtly asks about your mood and how you feel you’re doing, compliments you randomly, and if you’re drinking, he’s by your side so that you at the very least have someone to correct you if you start spiraling.

[Others under the read more]

Mammon

- Mammon is the one who gives emotional comfort.

- He was having fun, the human alcohol relaxing him just enough that he could exist with ease whilst still functioning. At the same time, he was keeping a close eye on you, and would regularly circle back to see where you were - you wouldn’t be alone for even a second unless you forcibly asked him to leave you be, with Mammon ensuring that at least one of the brothers was with you at all times.

- Satan had wandered off somewhere after someone bumped into him and made him spill his drink, and Mammon sees you standing alone staring into your glass. He heads over in your direction, cursing under his breath as he watches people walk past and look you over. His anger fades when he gets to you and puts a hand on your shoulder and you look up at him with tears in your eyes.

- You barely have time to react to his presence before he’s pulling you across the room to find somewhere quiet, and then he holds you by your shoulders, watching you carefully as he asks what’s wrong, what happened, did someone make you uncomfortable? He waits patiently for an answer, although you can see him getting more and more concerned and frustrated as he tries to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to do if you don’t tell him anything.

- You start talking, venting about this and that and he wraps you up in his arms. You pause for a second before he tells you to let it all out, say whatever you need to. He’s here. He listens, tearing up at times as well and trying to subtly wipe it away. Had you been hurting like this all this time, or was this entirely because of the alcohol, or a mix of the two?

- His grip on you is tight up until your sobs turn to sniffles, and then he pulls back and asks if there’s anything you need right now - if you want to, he’ll go get Lucifer and Satan and you can all go home? He has this one thing he’s been wanting to watch but he doesn’t want to be alone for it, you two could totally have a movie night and get popcorn and such and just relax, if that would help?

- When you’re done, he wipes your face with his sleeve and tells you that you should come to him in future, any time you need to. He’s your first demon, after all - you should feel the need to come to him anyway, without being asked. Despite his fake-confident attitude, he reinforces what he’s said by checking up on you when you’re back in the Devildom, and oftentimes if he knows you’re going to be alone he’ll invite you out to whatever he’s doing so you don’t have too much time to think. It helps him cope, and he hopes it’ll help you too.

Satan

- Satan is the one who listens, who debates.

- He’d known it was coming beforehand. There were signs, little anxieties that you just couldn’t hide forever, especially not from him. He keeps an eye on you the entire time the two of you are in the human realm, curious as to how you’ll react to being ‘home’ and if it’ll make you want to leave them so you can stay here. He’d been nervous somewhere deep down, too, and it kept him observing you even when he was supposed to be relaxing.

- The second you start to get emotional, he’s by your side, inviting you to come over and sit with him. He levels anyone near you with a glare, and the two of you end up in a relatively peaceful and quiet area because everyone else can sense the aura he’s giving off to keep them all away.

- His questions are sharp but not hurtful, and he chips away at whatever resistance you still have that keeps you bottling everything up until you finally break and spill out what you’re thinking about, tears pouring out alongside your harsh words. It takes him by surprise, but he shifts until he’s facing you and watches you closely as you speak.

- Satan tries not to interrupt, but every now and then he can’t help himself. “Why do you think that?” “Is there a reason for this?” etc. He doesn’t exactly parrot back what you’re saying, but you can tell he’s listening intently because he uses everything you’ve told him in his responses. His questions turn more into “but don’t you think...” and “I don’t quite see it that way myself.” It’s a debate, but a lighthearted one, and he’s being careful as he speaks.

- He’s clever. He knows what points to chip away at, to pick on so that you open up and tell him more about your concerns. Part of it is a morbid curiosity - he likes to observe people, to know what makes them tick, and now he has easy access to some of that with you. Mostly, though, he’s concerned. He’d grown to care about you and now that you were unloading all your anxieties he realises he clearly hadn’t been watching close enough, if you’d been feeling like this the entire time. Sometimes, when he’s upset, he wonders what it would be like to just tell someone every little thing, and by pressing on and on he knows he’ll be able to help you let it out.

- Once you’ve let everything out and you stop crying, he stops asking questions, stops prodding away at your thoughts. You’d been able to let out everything you needed to, been able to break whilst having support there, even if he hadn’t directly said anything to make you feel better. He was careful enough that what he said at least wouldn’t make you feel worse, and now it was all out there for him to think over in future and for the two of you to work on.

- That’s what he does. Satan takes everything you’ve told him and, when you’re back in the Devildom, he works to build up your confidence and to make you happier. The second you think you’re not all that useful, he’s rambling about how, remember that one time, where you did this and that? And how you act a certain way at times, and how your eyes light up when you help others, and so on? He can give exact examples to refute every point you’ve made, he’s been watching closely and memorising them all. You might not feel better right away, but he plans to work away at it slowly so that the negativity doesn’t have any ground left to stand on by the time he’s done.

AN: I hope this is okay!! Be safe, all of you <3

[one-boring-person]

You Can Be My Wingman (Part Five)

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x reader

Warnings: mention of past injury.

Context: Having finally recovered, Quicksilver is allowed to fly again, where she meets her new RIO.

A/N: This fic isn't doing too well, but I'm still quite proud of it, so I'll keep uploading it👍😅💛

Masterlist

When I finally don my flying uniform again after weeks of recovery, the familiar thrill of the prospect of flying rushes through me, the excitement building up with the minutes of preparation. Alone in the changing room, I pull on the gear as quickly as possible, practically buzzing with excitement as I lace up my boots and pick up my helmet, bounding to the exit, once again relishing in the lack of pain from the scars on my body. Emerging into the blazing sun, I head over to the hanger, rolling my shoulders in anticipation as I take my seat towards the back.

I stare out at the airfield, my leg bouncing nervously as I take in the familiar sight of the jets waiting in a row for us to use, a couple of attendants preparing them for use, their conversations carrying out to me. I missed it; the hot uniform, the harsh smells and noises, even the sexist jokes I sometimes receive from the other lieutenants. Thank God I survived what I did, that I was luckier than Matthew. A wave of grief and sadness briefly dulls my joy, the memory being painful and raw even after so long.

A person taking a seat beside me snaps me from my thoughts.

"You look healthy." Maverick grins as I turn to him, his bright eyes watching me and taking in my appearance.

"Finally." I reply, rolling my eyes jokingly.

He chuckles before replying.

"I'm glad, training was getting dull without you."

"Oh, I'm sure it wasn't, you've got Goose." I point out, " And don't forget Iceman and Slider. I'm sure you had a great time with them." At the last part, I giggle as he sends a pointed expression my way.

"Very funny." He retorts, playfully swatting my arm.

We continue to talk until the others arrive, joking and laughing together as we used to, though I can feel his gaze lingers a little more than before, his smile slightly remorseful. He had already filled me in on what I missed when I was in hospital, giving me his notes to study from whilst I recovered, in return for my own account of what happened whilst I was MIA.

The seats around us fill up, pilots and RIOs talking together, shouting rude jokes at each other as they approach. Glancing around, I quickly spot a new person I don't recognise.

"Who's that?" I ask Maverick, gesturing to the shy-looking guy. Before he can reply, Goose interrupts, plonking himself to my left.

"Hey, Quicksilver! How's it going?" His cheerful tone draws my attention, his contagious smile spreading to my face. Goose (and a few others) had made the effort to come and see me in the hospital, and he'd always cheered me up, so it's nice seeing him when I'm not incapacitated.

"Hey, Goose, I'm good! How about you?"

"Not bad, not bad. All the better now you're well again!" He responds, turning to the front. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Maverick giving us an odd look, but I shake it off as a trick of the light, quickly looking up as I recognise a certain pilot standing over me.

"Quicksilver, we didn't expect you back so soon." Iceman drawls, jaw working nonstop at the gum in his mouth, "It's good to see you."

"And you, Iceman." I return, uncertainly. Before my accident, he'd always been one of my main taunters, but he's acting awfully nice now, which unnerves me slightly.

Nodding, the tall pilot wanders off to his seat beside Slider in time for the commander to inform us of our task.

As he drones on, I take the opportunity to watch the new recruit.

Sitting uncomfortably in his chair, the lithe brunette shifts around, twisting his bony hands together into knots, fiddling with the fabric of his uniform. In the sun, his eyes appear the same colour as his golden badge, though not much of them is visible from under his mop of tawny hair, the long tufts hanging into his pale face like a shield between him and the world. His body isn't particularly muscular, but he appears nimble and agile, unlike some of the other pilots present, and his manner seems curious and eager, under all the unease.

"...as our Quicksilver finds herself without an RIO, she will be partnered with Hawk, our newest RIO recruit. I'm sure you two will get along fine." At this, I turn my attention back to the commander, meeting his firm gaze quickly, before I return my eyes to "Hawk", finding his golden eyes already looking at me. I offer him a small smile in reassurance, which he unsteadily returns.

"And that is all. Don't mess up, and remember, there's no points for second place."

Getting up with the others, I walk over to Hawk, sticking out a hand for him to shake.

"I'm Quicksilver, nice to meet you."

Taking my hand, he stammers in response.

"I'm Hawk, it's good to meet you, too."

"You ready?" I ask, leading him to one of the jets, my excitement building again as I eye the sleek metal beast before me.

"I think so." He murmurs quietly.

Suddenly unsure of his attitude, I turn to face him.

"Are you sure? You sound a little nervous."

Setting his jaw, he looks me in the eye.

"It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"..yes."

"It doesn't sound like it. We don't have to go out if you don't feel ready." I say this with hesitation, knowing I'll hate it if he agrees.

"I'm just a bit worried about flying with a new pilot after.. " He stops, visibly distressed.

"After?" I press, anxious to get going.

He shifts in place for a second before replying.

"After the last one...freaked out during a mission. He didn't respond to any of us, he just stared at the photograph he had with him. I was so scared that day...I haven't flown since." Hawk finally confesses, looking away.

Smiling sympathetically, I pat him on the shoulder.

"You'll be fine. I won't freak out on you, I promise." When he turns back to me, I notice his small smile almost instantly.

"Ok, let's go."

Climbing in, I secure myself into the jet, hearing him do the same, slightly hesitantly at first, behind me. I pull on my helmet and fasten it tightly, wrinkling my nose at its bad smell, made so from the accident.

Swiftly, I receive permission from the radar tower to take off first, which surprises me slightly. Making my way to the runway, I ask Hawk one more time if he's ready.

"As I'll ever be." Is his muffled reply.

Lining up, I ready myself for take off, increasing the thrust on the plane gradually until we are thundering across the runway. The familiar exhilaration of flying races through my veins as we launch into the air, the immediate change in pressure making me slightly giddy for a couple of seconds before I recover, wheeling the plane around, pointing the nose upwards. I allow myself to grin as the plane breaches the cloud layer, revealing the layout of the ground below.

Seconds later, a second plane joins me, followed by a third.

"Quicksilver, Hawk, your wingmen are Iceman and Slider, and Maverick and Goose." The crackling voice from the control tower sounds in my ear, the bored controller leaving the conversation there.

"You guys ready?" Goose's cheerful voice replaces the controller, his tone laced with excitement.

"We are." I respond after checking with Hawk.

"Born ready." Iceman replies, the grin almost audible in his voice.

For a couple of minutes, we wheel and bank around as a trio, waiting for the enemy planes to appear.

"I see one!" Hawk calls suddenly, voice confident and professional, as he rolls off a direction.

"South-west, below."

Taking this in, I carefully wheel the plane around to find the enemy jet, locating it immediately.

"We'll get him." Goose calls through the radio, Maverick directing his plane into a tight climb seconds later. "Quicksilver, there's a guy to your right!" Slider barks at me as another plane pulls up beside me, gliding up over me.

"Got it!" Banking to my left, I fall into a dive, spiralling downwards quickly before pulling up abruptly, drawing a muffled grunt from Hawk.

"Bit of warning please, Quicksilver!"

"Sorry." I call back, hurriedly, continuing to keep the plane in a steep ascent until I see us overtake the enemy jet, at which point I level out and cut the speed slightly. Drawing back, I allow the plane to speed off a little, before giving chase, moving in accordance with the other jet, the g-force pulling at me, the pressure almost overbearing. Leading us into a series of tight turns and spirals, I almost don't notice the second plane drop down behind me until it's right on my tail.

"Quicksilver, we have a problem!" Hawk yells at me, panickedly.

"Radio the other two, who's got that one?!" I ask, astonished.

"Goose, Slider, where're you two at?" The young RIO shouts into the mic as I throw the jet into a steep climb, spiralling to avoid missile lock from the others.

"We've got our own problems right now!" Slider's voice is also panicked, as is Maverick's when he replies after a minute or so.

"Us too, sorry Hawk!"

"It's fine, we've got this!" I reassure Hawk, nervously, levelling off to find the other two jets giving chase. "I have an idea."

Flying in a straight line, I slow the plane, allowing the other two to catch up sufficiently.

"Are you crazy? We'll be on missile lock in seconds!" Hawk's voice is terrified as he spots the jets coming closer.

"It's fine. Hold on." I growl through gritted teeth, suddenly pulling the brake and pulling the plane around until the left wing is pointing towards the ground.

As planned, the other two jets shoot by, the pilots turning heads as they watch me through the cockpit window, surprised to see us fly past. Levelling out again, I pursue them, quickly getting missile lock on the closest, watching it fly away as I continue chasing the other.

"One down." Hawk reports to the others, voice slightly shocked, "How did you know that was going to happen?" He asks me in disbelief.

"I've tried something similar a few times, but I guess I got lucky this time." My response is quick and breathless as I concentrate on navigating the tight turns the enemy is leading me on.

A couple of minutes later, I have the jet in my sights, the missile radar trying to lock on, eventually managing to do so, the plane flying off towards the base.

"Another one down. You guys need help?" This time I radio in, bringing the plane above the clouds for a better view.

"Yes please, Quicksilver." Goose's voice crackles through. Checking the radar, I locate their plane and angle towards it, allowing the jet to pick up speed as I drop down behind the aircrafts chasing them.

"We're here, Mav."

"Good, we're gonna need help getting them off our tail."

"On it." I target the closest, flying as near as I dare to its tail, activating the missile radar, focusing it on the jet in front of me. Instantly, the plane rolls off into a dive, drawing me away from Maverick, luring me into an elaborate series of twists and turns.

"Turn left." Hawk suddenly says.

"What?"

"Do it!"

Trusting his determined tone, I bank left, jumping when he speaks again.

"Now go right." Doing as he says, I return to my original path at a different angle, with a perfect view of the dodging plane. Moments later, the pilot is forced to land, due to our missile lock.

"Another down." Hawk reports, Iceman's voice coming in seconds later.

"One down."

"Another down." Goose adds, before Maverick chimes in a couple of minutes later.

"Last one down."

"We sure there were only six?" I ask quickly, looping around to find them on my radar.

"Positive. Requesting permission to land." Slider says, voice breathless over the mic.

"Permission granted." The message comes to all of us.

Goose's relieved "Great balls of fire!" filters through the radio seconds later, drawing a laugh out of me.

Making my way back, I allow the other two to land before doing do myself, bracing for the impact.

As we return to the hangers and get out of the cockpit, I turn to Hawk almost immediately.

"Thanks for that last one, that was clever thinking." I say, smiling at the RIO.

Visibly embarrassed, he scratches the back of his head, helmet tucked under his arm.

"No problem, you pulled it off really well. That stunt before was also really clever, I didn't see how it would work at first." He admits, looking me in the eye, "My actual name is Oli, by the way. Oli Green." He offers me his hand.

"I'm (Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N)." I reply, shaking his proffered hand, glad that he isn't so shy anymore.

"Hey, you guys, thanks for saving our asses back there!" Goose calls over as he and Maverick come closer, followed by Iceman and Slider.

"Yeah, that was some real fancy flying there." Maverick grins, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Thanks, guys. We tried our best." I respond, smiling at them all.

"You guys sure you haven't flown together before? Because that was amazing." Iceman's offhand compliment surprises me, a sense of pride immediately washing over me.

"I'm sure. Maybe we just work well together." Hawk chimes in, happily.

"Come on, let's get cleaned and get something to drink, we all deserve it." Slider exclaims, patting us on the back.

As we start off, I feel cheerful and glad to be back, though a look at Maverick dampens my mood.

Why is he frowning like that?

Part Six

[mytwistedhome]

Pomefiore and Ignihyde when they find out you have Anorexia

Trigger warning to anyone who suffers with an eating disorder!!

I decided to write these headcanons because I've been having a really tough two weeks, and thinking of the twst boys makes me happy...

I hope this can maybe bring comfort to someone else, or at least provide some bit of entertainment. My intention is not to cause harm or trigger anyone. That is the last thing I want.

Other dorms will be coming as well! I already started working on all of them, but I just haven’t finished them. They will most likely be posted the next time I have a bad day //

One more quick thing: I will be posting requests this week! I’ve already broken several promises that I made in regards to the time I’d post, and I feel horribly guilty. I’m sorry for the wait. I know I shouldn’t tell you to expect something on a certain day and then delay it for weeks. I should be honest about my efficiency, and I am sorry.

I'm also sorry for not responding to message (this applies to all my blogs...) I see them, but then forget about them, and then cower away because I feel like I'm already too late. I hope this little apology is enough to suffice... I'll apologize properly to every person when I find the courage. I know I shouldn't be doing this to people who've been kind to me just because I feel unwell. Please know that I am very sorry, and I'm trying to be more responsible and less careless to those around me.

💜

Vil Shoenheit

So that's why your skin is so dry and you have bags under your eyes

He scolds you at first. He believes that you’re starving to get a good figure, and he tries to inform you that doing so is unhealthy and that being malnourished actually makes a person quite ugly.

As if you haven’t already heard all this before

You try to tell him that you’re not doing this to look good. At least, not anymore. Sure, it started out as a way to lose weight, but it soon became an obsession much more meaningful than beauty or weight-loss.

He doesn’t understand. Why would you deliberately hurt yourself like that? Especially when you’re aware of all these negative outcomes?

Nevertheless, he is still very worried about you

He wouldn't normally concern himself with such a personal problem, but he would feel so guilty if he just stood back and watched you whither away

So, he does, indeed, go out of his way to try and help you

He finds a psychology book about eating disorders in the library, and he reads it in its entirety

He is... quite disturbed. He never imagined that you could be suffering so badly.

He's smart enough to realize that he, himself, can't do anything to make you better

He encourages you to seek professional help, and he even searches for phone numbers you can call and therapists/counselors close by of whom you can see

You are really touched by his efforts to find help, and you promise him that you will see one of the counselors he recommended

But... several weeks go by, and you haven't done anything

Vil grows furious. Don’t you want help!?

He takes your lack of seeking help rather personally... He went out of his way to provide with the things he felt that you really needed. Don’t you appreciate that? Don’t you care about yourself? What more do you want him to do?

You try to tell him that you don’t want him to do anything, that you’ll find help when you’re ready--

Vil isn’t buying that

What does “ready” mean, anyways? When you’re already in the grave?

He’s a bit harsh on you... He points out the patches of dry skin along your neck and chest, the way the hairs of your arms always stand on end from goosebumps, the metallic taste in your mouth...

Are you happy with those things? Do you really want to live this way?

You try and try to explain to him that it’s hard to get help and go back to eating normally

It spirals into an argument...

Vil is done with this. He did what he could and got you the resources you need to begin recovery. Once you decide to get help, he will be there for you. He will be there whenever you reach out for support, comfort, or care. But, until then, don’t talk to him about it. Don’t complain about your misery until you have sought proper help. It’s your fault at this point, isn’t it?

Rook Hunt

He had noticed that you were very quickly losing a lot of weight

He was concerned, but he never imagined that the problem could be something so serious

You're actually surprised with just how much he's concerned. You thought that if there was anyone to romanticize such a disease, it would be him

But he seems to know more than you thought about such disorders

He begs you to get professional help, and he is quite a bit more pushy and earnest than Vil is...

You try to explain to him that no doctor or therapist could ever help unless you were READY and WANTED to be helped

Well, he doesn't understand why you don't want help

He's pushing and pushing you... begging you to seek a professional

You get so frustrated that you turn and leave. He just doesn't understand!

And now Rook is even more distressed. How will he ever get through to you? How can he ever help you?

Now, every time he sees you, he looks at you with such sorrow

He sadly remarks upon how your beauty is fading... and how he fears that your life may be fading as well

Your heart aches to hear such sincere worry... Your chest feels tighter than it normally does as you crumble with guilt

You promise yourself you'll get better... Just so you won't have to see Rook with a horribly sad expression whenever he passes you

You start eating more in front of him to ease his worry, which does work a little bit

You add about 400 more calories to your usual intake--enough so that your "recovery" becomes visible through the way you bounce with energy

But you stay up late at night, running laps and doing situps to burn off some of that intake

And you keep losing weight

In fact, it's worse now because your body is aching from the unfamiliar intake and exercise...

Well, at least you look better

At least you have Rook fooled

Or so you think. It'll only be a matter of weeks before he catches onto your schemes and grows so distressed once again

He tries to sit you down and have a talk with you... He just really wants you to get help

Epel Felmier

Poor Epel finds out after he witnesses you collapsing in the middle of the hallway when no one else is around

He panics and rushes to your side, trying to see what is wrong and how he can help you

You blacked out for several seconds, which is why you collapsed, but even though you have your vision back, everything is still very cloudy and you are too weak to stand up

This makes Epel panic even more

You try to calm him down, despite your weakness

"it's okay, Epel...! Just get me something to eat. Please, I need something to eat. Hurry!"

He is a bit confused, but he does what you say, and he rushes off to find you some food

While he is gone, you try to stand, but to no avail. Your stomach aches with hunger and you are cold all over. Your body just feels so miserable

He rushes back to you with an apple and places his hands on your shoulders in concern as you quickly eat it down

That apple... It's the best thing you've ever tasted, but it's gone too quickly, and your mouth waters for more as the last bites slide down your throat

Although it was small, it still gives your body such a blissful burst of energy. All your senses are ignited now that you have finally eaten something after such a long fast, and your head is hurting far less

You stand up and smile at Epel, thanking him graciously before turning to leave

Uuuhhhhh.... What was that?

You suddenly collapse on the ground and then are all better after eating a simple apple?

No way is Epel going to let you go just like that. He holds you back, demanding an explanation, for it surely seems you know quite a bit about this bizarre thing that just happened

You try to tell him it's nothing, just a strange thing that happened this one time

Well, then, how did you know how to fix it by eating something?

You quickly lie and tell him you get dizzy sometimes and fall due to low blood sugar

Well, now your story is inconsistent

He presses you for the truth, growing rather angry

His harsh tone begins to scare you, and you tell him... You tell him that, sometimes, you go days without eating, and it of course causes you to grow so weary that you faint

You watch as all the frustration quickly rushes away from Epel's face, leaving his eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock

"That... That's really unhealthy..."

Oh, great. Not this speech again

But, it actually isn't a lecture about how this is such a "dangerous diet"

Instead, Epel pours out all his concern with a sad look upon his face

He knows that he can't do much, but he assures you that you can come to him if ever things become too tough to handle

You're touched by his offer, and you thank him for his understanding

But, now, everytime he's around, he watches you with care to see if you're doing alright and to make sure you don't fall over again

You hadn't expected him to worry this much...

If Epel ever thinks that things are getting out of hand, he will likely go behind your back to someone who can help for your sake

💙

Idia Shroud

He really wishes that he hadn't found out because now he can't stop worrying

This is the kind of thing that would just be easier to ignore and shut away from his mind

But how could he possibly ignore something as serious as this?

He keeps telling himself that this isn't supposed to be his issue

But... It is his issue, isn't it? If you ended up dying and he knew all along about your suffering yet did nothing to help, than that would mean that he aided in your death, right?

He's really starting to panic. He doesn't what you dead. Not at all

But... What is he supposed to do???

He calms himself down and tries to think

Perhaps if he built you a mechanical body that didn't need food this whole thing would seize to be a problem...

No, bad idea

Well, that will be his last resort if nothing else works...

He messages you and tries to plead with you to please just eat and take care of yourself...

You message back, explaining to him that it really isn't that simple

He decides to ask why you're doing this, and he tries to show through his words how much he really cares

You feel comfortable enough in telling him some of the reasons why you think you started, and why it's now so hard to stop and all you want is to continue with it...

Idia is happy that you were able to open up to him this much, but what is he really supposed to do with this information? He's no therapist...

Well, being vulnerable with you emotions and talking about the problem is at least one step in the right direction, isn't it?

Idia continues to try to be a source of comfort for you, while also encouraging you to seek proper help

Ortho Shroud

Oh, no... He can’t help you with this, can he?

Why can’t he help you? Why won’t you get better?

Surely nii-san programmed him with something that could help you...

Right...?

RIGHT!?

Why aren’t you better?

Why are you doing this to yourself!?

Ortho is a mess... so distressed. He can’t understand--he doesn’t have the capacity to understand such a disorder, and he is so frustrated that nothing he does is helping!

And he does everything

He exhausts himself trying to “fix your mind”

His eyes are wide, yellow irises shaking with misery

Knowing that you are willingly hurting yourself actually traumatizes him...

He can't wrap his head around such an awful mental illness. To him, it looks as though you're really trying to harm, hurt, and even kill yourself by your own accord

Something must be wrong with your brain, but he just doesn't know what!

The poor child is so upset. He's panicked and worried sick

And now you feel even worse

Sorry for ending on such a horrible note... I was originally going to have all the dorms, so Diasomnia would’ve come and saved the day, but I just didn’t finish them.

[aggieadventuress]

I’m Okay, I Promise. Except I’m Lying.

by @aggieadventuress for @romeoandjulietyouwish for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Morgan Stark

Summary: 5 times Peter told Tony he didn’t want to be touched +1 time Tony didn’t listen.

Read on ao3:

Peter jolted awake in bed, panting from the adrenaline of his nightmare and soaked with sweat. He tried to orient himself but he hadn’t smacked his head on the top bunk like normal and clearly this wasn’t his bed, it was too soft. He couldn’t hear the sounds of the city outside their apartment walls and he felt completely lost for a few moments before realizing that he was in the guest bedroom at Mr. Stark's lake house. Because it had been 5 years, and he didn’t have a set of bunk beds in their apartment in Queens. Because May didn’t live in that apartment anymore, she lived in Manhattan. With Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark’s head of security but more importantly, her boyfriend.

He was staying at the lake house for the summer while May and Happy were off on some relief worker trip. As bad as things were in New York after the second snap, a lot of countries were even worse off and May, ever the philanthropist, had to help. She originally wasn't going to go when her hospital brought up the opportunity, worried about Peter, but he assured her he would be fine because he didn't want to stand in the way of her helping people who really needed it. He was fine, or was at least close to fine. Or, he was getting to be close to fine.

Peter could not let himself spiral further into his state of panic, it was hard enough to breathe already, he needed to focus on doing that right now. He stared down into his lap, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. In and out, that’s all he needed to do.

Peter was so focused on controlling his breathing that he didn’t hear the creak of the door as someone walked into his bedroom. He felt the dip of the bed next to him though and turned his head to the side to verify who he already knew it was.

Mr. Stark was wearing plaid pajama pants and a worn AC/DC shirt and had clearly actually been asleep, which was so different from the man Peter had known before the snap. Before Mr. Stark would have been wide awake, wired on caffeine and inventing something crazy in his lab, but that just showed how much had changed.

Before either of them had time to speak, a bleary-eyed Morgan appeared in the doorway.

“Peter? Daddy? Are you okay?” Morgan asked, drowsily rubbing a fist at one of her eyes still half-asleep.

“I’m fine Morgs, I’m sorry for waking you up,” Peter replied, his stomach clenching with guilt for disturbing her.

“You didn’t wake me up, Daddy did. He was being loud in the hallway talking to Friday so I wanted to see,” Morgan said.

That didn’t make Peter feel much better, because whether he had directly woken Morgan or Friday and Tony had woken her up while discussing him, which is what he assumed would have been happening, it was still his fault.

Morgan came into the room and crawled up on the bed on the side of Peter that Tony wasn’t occupying. “Did you have a bad dream?” She asked innocently and then without waiting for a response, “I have bad dreams sometimes. You should ask daddy for a hug. That will fix it.” Morgan spoke pragmatically as if the solution to all of Peter’s problems was that simple.

“Kids right, I’ve been known to have pretty spectacular hugs. Can scare away all of the monsters within a three-mile radius,” Tony deadpanned, but his tone was betrayed by the small smile on his face.

Morgan nodded vehemently in agreement with her dad’s statement. “It’s true,” she added seriously, “I’ve never once seen a monster while daddy was holding me. I’ve never even felt scared if I was in his arms.”

“I have,” Peter muttered under his breath, thinking it was too quiet to hear and still staring at his sheets so he didn’t see the absolutely crestfallen look on Tony’s face at his confession. Tony knew immediately what Peter was talking about. The kid had dissolved in his arms on an alien planet and no amount of hugging would ever make the fear from that memory go away.

“Could I at least try?” Tony asked, moving in for a hug, but pausing when Peter flinched and moved away from him.

“No thanks. I mean, I’d rather you didn’t…I mean, I’m fine. I really don’t want a hug right now. I actually could use a little bit of space. A few minutes, just to myself. Please.”

Tony dropped his arms slowly to his sides and stood from the bed. “Of course, whatever you need Peter. But it’s a standing offer, free hugs whenever you want them. Day or night. It’s the same for Morgan, I’m always available.

Peter nodded but his gaze had returned to his lap. Tony reached out a hand as if to pat him on the shoulder but then thought better of it. He wasn’t a psychologist but after all of the trauma Peter had been through, he figured it was a completely valid response to want space right now. He needed to respect that, as much as it killed him to watch his kid suffer. He just wanted to pull him into his arms and hold him tight until all of his pain melted away, but that wasn’t an option if it wasn’t what Peter wanted.

“Well, I’m going to take the princess…” Tony started to say.

“I was promoted to Prime Minister daddy, you know that,” Morgan interrupted exasperated.

“Sorry, of course. I am going to take the Prime Minister back to her own bed now, do you think you can try to get back to sleep?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded into his lap again and Tony couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped him seeing how dejected Peter was.

“Right,” He said, not believing Peter for a second, “well if you can’t, let me know and we can watch a movie or something. I hear 2 am is the best time to watch Star Wars.” When even that didn’t elicit more than a grunt of response, he knew it was time to let it go and give Peter the space he so clearly wanted.

“Come along Madame Prime Minister,” Tony said, scooping Morgan into his arms and carrying her through the door.

“I answer to your Royal Lordship now,” Peter heard Morgan explain from the hallway on the way back to her room.

“I’ve been thinking that I should take over the world. I think people would be a lot happier as my royal subjects then they are right now. And Gerald has said he would be my Vice Queen and I think he’d do a pretty good job. Mommy can be an advisor and I think you would make a very good royal train conductor. Did you know that an engineer is another word for a train conductor?”

“Thanks, Morgana, but I think you should wait until your a little older to start planning your world domination. Mull it over a bit more. It’d be awfully time consuming and I don’t know that you’d have time to host your famous tea parties.”

“Your probably right. I’m much too busy to be a ruler right now.”

Peter lay back in his bed, still wide-awake, staring at his ceiling and listening to the conversation Tony and Morgan were having as the man tried to put her back to bed. He ached to let the man hold him and comfort him like he did Morgan. He wanted to let his mentor wrap his arms around him like some sort of shield from the realities of the world. But he couldn’t have that. He was too broken and too damaged to let Tony touch him - to let anyone touch him right now. If he gave in and let Tony hold him, Peter knew that little bit of comfort would make him fall apart and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to put himself back together again.

He was caught up in his own self deprecating thoughts and didn’t immediately notice when Tony reappeared in his doorway.

“So what’s the plan, sleep or movie? I am absolutely down for either,” Tony offered quietly.

“I’ll just go back to sleep I think. Thanks for the offer though,” Peter answered, exhaustion making his voice sound hoarse.

Tony looked at him appraisingly, seemingly trying to decide if he was going to let this go or if he was going to push the issue. “Okay, well if you need anything, just come get me, or if you don’t want to, ask Friday. I don’t usually sleep much anyway so don’t worry that you might wake me, I’ll probably be working or something anyway,” Tony tried to comfort Peter, but he saw through the offer. He knew Tony actually did sleep now that he had his own kid and a somewhat normal life, but he appreciated that the lie was supposed to help ease his guilt.

Tony hesitated in the doorway and then turned to go. He stopped a few steps into the hallway and turned back to look at Peter. Peter met his eyes for the first time that night.

“Peter, you can talk to me about anything,” Mr. Stark’s voice was pleading, “You know that, right?”

Peter nodded and then moved to lay back down under his covers and added, “I’m okay, I promise.”

- 2 -

It was Friday and Peter had been at the lake house for five days and hadn’t slept through the night for any of them. He had explicitly told Friday not to inform Mr. Stark when he had a nightmare but either she hadn’t listened, or the man had some sort of sixth sense because he would always come. Before Peter could orient himself and catch his breath, Mr. Stark would be there. They had fallen into a routine of sorts; the man would sit next to him in silence for a few minutes while Peter collected himself. If Peter was having a lot of trouble, Mr. Stark would breathe really deeply, slowly, encouraging Peter to copy him. Once he had calmed down a bit, Mr. Stark would ask him if he wanted to talk and Peter would always say no. After the second night when Mr. Stark had tried to put a comforting hand on his shoulder and Peter had violently flinched away and ended up tumbling out of his bed, Mr. Stark had kept his distance. Peter wanted to scream in frustration at how much he wanted to give in and just accept a stupid hug, but he couldn’t. Mr. Stark would always offer to stay with him or to go down to the living room or something, but Peter always sent him away, and the man always reluctantly listened.

Apparently, Friday night was movie night, and Morgan had made it very clear that his participation was not optional, no matter how exhausted he was, so that is how Peter found himself standing just outside the living room on the verge of a complete panic attack. The Starks were all sitting on the couch, Morgan between Pepper and Tony, and they had clearly left a space for him on Tony’s other side. Fortunately, everyone was focused forward on the television discussing the movie selection so no one noticed Peter staring at the couch and having an internal freak-out about whether or not he could actually handle sitting that close to Mr. Stark.

Finally, he decided to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the room and made to walk over there. His movement caught Tony’s eye.

“Hey kid, come sit with us,” he offered, patting the empty cushion next to him.

“Yah Petey, come sit with us,” Morgan echoed.

“No thank Morgs,” Peter opted to respond to her instead of Tony, hoping it would be easier. “I take up a lot of space so I’m going to claim this whole chair for myself.”

Morgan squinted her eyes and stared at him as if trying to assess if this was an acceptable explanation or if she found his “a lot of space” determination to be accurate. He must have passed her inspection because she didn’t look happy, but she eventually nodded and turned back toward the TV.

Tony was not so easy to appease and the man stared at Peter with a questioning look in his eyes. Peter wanted to tell him that he was afraid to sit next to him in case he relaxed too much and fell asleep. He was afraid that if he curled up in that corner of the couch, so close to the protective embrace of his mentor, he might be able to breathe a little better and abate his anxiety just for a bit. If he let himself sleep, he would dream, and if he dreamt, he’d be on Titan again and he just couldn’t handle it right now. He had adjusted to the near constant state of tension in his body and knew better than to all of a sudden let himself relax.

He broke eye contact with Mr. Stark, settled into the arm chair, and turned to face the TV. Now that he was seated Morgan instructed Friday, “Play the Incredibles, Friday!” And the movie started.

Peter could barely focus on the screen because he was so tired. Despite his distance, he could hear the comforting, steady beating of Mr. Stark’s heart underneath the noise of the movie. Combined with the dim lighting in the room and the very comfortable chair he was curled up in, keeping his eyes open was a battle. Each blink lasted a bit longer than the one before until his eyes slid shut and stayed closed.

The moment he drifted to sleep in the Stark’s living room, he ‘awoke’ in the dark void of the soul stone. Alone. Completely alone. The nightmare tormented him with the feeling of dust coating his nose and mouth, with the sticky heat from his suit and with the familiar panic of being lost and abandoned in a sea of nothing. He had no concept of how much time passed in his dream, but in the midst of the nothingness, he felt an arm beneath his knees and another under his back, and then he was being lifted in the air. Peter abruptly awoke from his dream and jerked away from whatever was holding him and tumbled to the ground, his head smacking into the wooden floor with a loud ‘crack.’

“Christ kid, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Tony dropped to his knees next to Peter, his hands reaching out for the boy to check for injuries before he stopped himself and put them up in the air in front of him as if to show he meant no harm. “The movie was over and you were asleep. You’ve looked so tired lately and I didn’t want to wake you. I was just going to carry you up to your own bed. I thought that would be more comfortable. Pepper just took Morgan upstairs. I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize you were having a nightmare. Although I should have guessed.” Tony said the last part more to himself.

Peter was still lying on the ground but pushed himself up so he was resting on his elbows. “It’s not your fault. Thanks for waking me, I can take myself to bed though,” Peter said and then pushed himself the rest of the way up. He swayed on his feet for a few moments and Tony’s hand hovered just below his elbow, ready to catch him, but he regained his balance after a moment.

“Peter,” Tony’s voice sounded desperate as he pled with Peter, “I want to help you. I know that you have been through so much, so much more than anyone should ever have to go through, please. Talk to me, let me help.”

Peter shook his head and started to walk toward the stairs, to go upstairs and lie awake in his own bed since he was certain there would be no sleeping for the rest of the night. “I appreciate it Mr. Stark, but I just need sleep, that’s all. Nothing wrong.”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark started again but Peter didn’t allow the man to continue. He glanced behind him before continuing upstairs and assured Tony, “I’m okay, I promise.”

- 3 -

Morgan spent all of breakfast on Saturday pestering Tony about going down to the lake to swim because it was a "bazillion and six degrees daddy" and she absolutely wouldn't survive the heat. Tony had protested that he had work to do, and as much as he'd like to go swimming, she would have to wait until later that afternoon so that he could watch her.

Peter was passively listening to their conversation, picking at the waffles on his plate, so exhausted that he didn't even feel hungry. Tony had been eyeing his still very-full plate but so far had not commented on it.

"I can take her," Peter heard himself offering, not entirely sure what compelled him to say that.

Tony looked at him with surprise, "Are you sure? You don't have to, she won't actually die, I assure you."

"Sure," Peter said. He had made the offer and Morgan had perked up considerably from her moping at his suggestion, he wasn't going to back out on her now. It wasn't her fault that he couldn't sleep and that he constantly felt like there was electricity running through his body from persistent anxiety.

"Daddy!" Tony was standing in the kitchen and heard his daughters scream coming from down by the lake. He dropped the plate he was holding and didn't even register as it shattered on the ground next to him, he was already out the door and running down to the dock.

He was pressing buttons on his watch, calling a medical suit to himself in preparation for whatever he was about to encounter. He wouldn't even let himself think of what could be waiting for him and all the hazards that swimming in the lake presented.

His heartbeat slowed just slightly as he approached the dock and saw both his kids were safely on dry land, alleviating his deepest fear that he had refused to admit, that he would find one of his kids drowning in the lake because he had been too 'busy' to come down here with them. He would never forgive himself it that ever happened and vowed that no one would go near the water again without him present. Him and a suit standing by for whatever emergency might present itself. He could plan for all that later though, right now he needed to determine what had caused his daughter panic.

As soon as Morgan caught sight of him, she ran to meet him and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward Peter. There were tear tracks running down her face and she was hiccupping through her own sobs.

"Something is wrong with Petey," she cried, "I asked him to jump off the dock with me and then as soon as we got in the water he started freaking out. He pulled us both out and he's just been sitting there crying and breathing real hard. He won't answer me and he pushed me when I tried to hug him," Morgan sobbed even harder.

"It's okay," Tony tried to soothe as they came up next to Peter, "Can you please go wait for me on the porch Morgs? I don't want you near the water and I want to be able to help Peter without worrying."

Morgan nodded, though she seemed uneasy about leaving Peter.

"Mommy is on her way home," Tony soothed her. Pepper would have gotten a notification as soon as he activated a medic suit and would probably be flying home in her own as they spoke.

“In fact," Tony thought, "Why don't you take my phone and call Mommy and talk to her. She is headed back but might be a little bit worried and will want to hear from you that you are okay." Tony pulled his phone out, Friday would have already let Pepper know everyone was okay, but it couldn’t hurt. Morgan took the phone and looked at Peter's trembling form with fear in her eyes before running toward the cabin.

With one less thing to worry about, Tony turned to the shaking kid in front of him. For the most part, Peter sat motionless except for the trembling in his shoulders. Not wanting to startle him, Tony moved around to get in front of him and in his line of sight before getting down on his knees to be on eye level.

His heart broke as he took in the sopping wet hair on Peter's head and the lake water mixing with tears as it dripped down his face.

"Hey Pete," He tried to be as gentle as possible, "are you with me? Can you tell me where you are?"

Peter continued to just stare directly ahead, eyes glazed over, not really looking at Tony, but past him and over the water. Tony very slowly reached out to place a hand on Peter's shoulder, but as soon as he made contact, Peter jolted into awareness and practically leapt backward to get away from him. Tony saw the glazed over look had been replaced with wild-eyed terror and he sat motionless, hands held up in front of him trying to appear as non-threatening as possible, waiting for Peter to recognize his surroundings.

After a few moments, the heaving breaths in Peter's chest slowed and his gaze stopped wandering around and settled on Tony.

"Hey bud, Are you with me now?" Tony tried again, keeping his voice soft and slowly lowering his hands, keeping them in view still in an attempt to be as non-threatening as possible.

Peter waited a moment, giving Tony an assessing gaze before nodding almost imperceptibly.

"That's really good. Can you help me understand what happened?" Tony cajoled.

Peter paused again before shaking his head and then softly adding, "I'm fine."

Tony had to hold back a snort at such a blatant lie from the kid, but it wouldn't do him any good to make Peter feel belittled.

"Is Morgan okay? I didn't mean to scare her," Peter added, finally looking up to meet Tony's eye.

"Morgan is completely fine. She just wanted to make sure you were okay. She's with Pepper."

Peter wasn't completely sure how it had happened, but the moment his feet his the water he was back in the lake, wrapped in a parachute and drowning. His brain stopped working but some instinct kicked in and the next thing he knew he was pulling himself and Morgan out of the lake, much to Morgan's displeasure.

"Petey, why'd we get out?" Morgan asked, the pout on her face evidence in her voice.

Peter tried to reply to her but all that came out was a wheezing breath and then he wasn't sitting on the dock anymore. He was drowning again or floating in nothingness as dust. His body was on fire from the pain of turning to dust, his lungs burning from lack of oxygen. He was too far gone to hear Morgan screaming for her dad. It wasn't until he felt the hand on his shoulder that he came back to awareness and jumped back out of reach of whoever might be trying to hurt him. He looked around frantically to make sure Morgan wasn't nearby and in any danger from this attacker but eventually his gaze settled on Tony and he realized that the threat was all in his head. He should have known that his spidey-sense would have warned him if there was a true threat and it had been nearly silent since he'd arrived here. The buzz of his anxiety was his only companion right now.

He registered it was Tony in front of him and felt an overwhelming urge to just run and collapse into his arms and let his mentor comfort him, but he couldn't. He craved the comfort he knew Tony would provide, but he couldn't accept it. He was so on edge, he was terrified of letting the man get close only for Peter to panic and lash out and hurt him. So he tried to push him away physically and emotionally. It was better for them both that way.

"Let's get you warmed up," Tony said, holding out a hand to help Peter up, but the kid ignored him and stood, somewhat shakily on his own. They walked up toward the house together, Tony keeping one hand behind Peter, making sure not to touch him but wanting to be prepared if he stumbled. When they got inside Tony led Peter upstairs to his and Pepper's room. Peter hesitated in the doorway before following him in. He pulled out the fluffiest towels that they had and draped one around Peter's shoulders. He made to use the other to towel off the kid's hair, but as soon as Peter registered his intent, he was ducked out of the way.

"I can do that," Peter said. Tony wanted to scream but held it back and tried to keep his face neutral.

"Are you sure? Because I really don't mind," Tony tried one last time.

"Yes," Peter said vehemently.

Tony relinquished the towel and stood back as helplessly as Peter dried his curls somewhat awkwardly with one towel while trying to hold the other one around his shoulders. Tony finally decided he needed to be helpful and went to get some warm clothes out of Peter's room. The kid still didn't have very much, and Tony made a mental note to order him more clothes, before returning to his own room to supplement the kid's things with his own sweat pants and hoodie.

He held out the clothes to Peter once it was clear the kid had accomplished all he was going to getting dry by himself and Peter disappeared into the bathroom to change. Tony sat down on the bed while he waited.

When Peter reappeared looking even younger than he was, if that was possible, wearing Tony's clothes, Tony tried to bring up the conversation again.

"Hey, kid. We don't have to talk about it, but if you want to, I'm here. There's nothing to be ashamed of, you have been so brave and you have every right to get a little freaked out by the water," Tony tried to start the conversation. But Peter wasn't having it.

Peter shook his head no and replied, "I'm okay, I promise,"

- 4 -

It was July before he knew it and a month had passed at the lake. Peter was actually enjoying his time at the lake - playing with Morgan, working on tech with Tony, having family dinners - but he still couldn’t sleep and he still couldn't get to close to his mentor without feeling like he was going to dissolve. Tony knew something was wrong and kept trying to broach the subject, but Peter refused to talk about it and Tony never got frustrated or pushed him. He steadily reminded him that he wasn't going anywhere and would be there when Peter was ready to talk.

Peter felt on edge the whole day and couldn’t pinpoint why. He tried to push it aside and enjoy the hamburgers they grilled and the shortcake that Pepper had baked. As darkness fell, they moved from the patio table down to some lounge chairs facing the lake and settled in for the show.

The first firework burst in the sky just a moment before the noise of the explosion. That almost unnoticeable delay between the speed of light and the speed of sound. It was there though, a fraction of a second for Peter to enjoy the beauty of the firework before the sound caused his head to erupt into pain and his mind to start spiraling into the bad place.

All of a sudden he was no longer at the lake, he was on a battlefield, fighting against aliens who they had already lost to once. There was a cacophony of violence around him and Peter couldn’t stop to process it because he had to keep fighting. His life and half of the population of the world depended on it.

More fireworks went off and Peter collapsed to the ground, curling in on himself with his head between his knees and his hands clawing at his ears trying to block out some of the sounds. A hand reached out to touch him and it felt like fire coming in contact with his skin. His senses were out of control and he could count the fibers in the shirt he was wearing and the blades of grass beneath his legs. He heard screaming and then realized that the noise was coming from him.

Peter fought against the stars in his vision, trying not to pass out from the pain in his head, and then something metal brushed his hair and a helmet was placed over his head. Immediately, the world dulled. The noise of the fireworks was muffled, the light from the moon and the fireworks was dimmed to nearly black. Peter let out a shuddering breath, trying to get ahold of himself and then slowly lifted his eyes, looking through the lenses of the iron man helmet to see Tony squatting in front of him with a look of panic on his face. When Tony realized that Peter was looking at him, he mimed standing up and going into the house and then tilted his head at Peter to make it a question. Peter nodded, which felt odd in the bulky helmet and painfully got to his feet. Mr. Stark didn’t try to help him after his touch had elicited such a pained scream earlier, but he hovered close by in case he was needed.

Slowly, they made their way back into the house, Peter flinching every time another firework went off despite the silencing effects of the helmet. Once they were through the door Tony led him down the hall to the room he was staying in and then directly into the closet. Peter wasn’t sure why, but noticed the complete darkness of the space and thought it was as good of a place as any. Out of nowhere Mr. Stark produced a set of noise-canceling headphones and a pair of very dark sunglasses and held them out to Peter. Peter didn’t look forward to removing the helmet but knew it would be more comfortable to have the headphones on. The less coming into contact with his skin, the better.

Slowly he lifted the helmet, surprised how well the closet was blocking the noise, though it was still too much to hear. Quickly, he exchanged the helmet for the headphones and the glasses and settled them on his face. Then he sunk down to the floor, curling back in on himself and trying to touch as little as possible to his skin.

He couldn’t help the tears that fell from his eyes. The salt burned on his oversensitive skin but that did nothing to stop him. He just kept his head down let himself silently cry. He wanted nothing more than to let Tony shield him from all the noise and light and fear, he knew being touched would be excruciating. Instead, they just sat there in darkness for what seemed like hours. Eventually, Peter’s senses dulled back to a more manageable state and after looking to Tony for confirmation that the outside world would be quiet, Peter eased the headphones off his head and was met with blessed silence.

“Hey,” Tony spoke so quietly that Peter wouldn’t have been able to hear him without his enhancements, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Peter answered automatically.

“Kid,” Tony tried again, still gentle but clearly not believing him, “after everything that has happened, I should have thought about the effect explosions might have. That’s on me. Your response was valid and I’m sorry to have triggered that. If you want to talk about it, with me, or even with someone else,” Tony tried to offer but Peter cut him off.

“It isn’t anything big, it was just a lot for my senses. Enhanced hearing and whatnot,” Peter tried to justify, seeing the incredulous look on Mr. Stark's face but knowing the man wouldn't openly challenge him on this. He was pretty sure Mr. Stark saw right through him, but he wasn't ready to admit to anything yet. “I don’t need to talk about it. I’m okay, I promise.”

- 5 -

Pepper and Tony were both tied up on phone calls and Peter had offered to make Morgan lunch. Morgan had begged him to let her help and he had thought asking her to pick out some fruit to go with her sandwich wouldn't be so bad. He should have realized that any kid of Tony's would go the extra mile and end up in trouble, and instead of deciding on a fruit, Morgan had retrieved an apple from the counter and somehow got ahold of a knife and was attempting to cut it herself. Peter could swear his back was only turned for a second and next thing he knew, she had climbed onto the counter and was waving the knife around the air pretending it was a sword and apple in front of her was an unruly subject of the crown being beheaded (he thought he heard her use the word guillotine but couldn't be sure and had no idea where she would have picked it up but chose to let that part go for nowHey Morgs, you aren't supposed to be using a knife," Peter tried to keep his voice calm and friendly, not wanting to be mean or to startle Morgan.

"Oops," Morgan looked at him sheepishly, obviously knowing she was doing something she wasn't supposed to.

"Hand it over kid," he said, holding out a hand for the knife. Morgan moved to give it to him but then there was a loud thud from upstairs. She whipped around to try and see the origin of the noise, and her sudden movement caused the knife to cut right through Peter's forearm.

He hissed out a breath at the sting which drew Morgans attention. She gasped when she saw what she had done and immediately dropped the knife, letting it fall to the floor, thankfully missing impaling Peter's foot by a couple of inches.

“I'm so sorry Petey," Morgan wailed, "I didn't mean to hurt you.”

"It's okay, Morgan. I'm fine, just a little scratch," Peter tried to console her while he wrapped a kitchen towel around his arm to staunch the flow of blood. Before he could figure out what the logical next step was, Tony appeared in the doorway, probably having heard Morgan's cries from upstairs. He had walked around the corner, still partially listening to someone on the phone, but the moment his eyes landed on Peter and countertop that was pretty well covered with blood, the phone slipped through his fingers and clattered to the floor.

"What happened!" Tony asked, moving quickly toward the two of them and eyeing Morgan up-and-down to check for injuries. Once he determined that her tears were only from emotional distress and not from physical harm, he moved his attention to Peter.

"Little mishap. It's my fault, I wasn't paying close enough attention. I'm so sorry," Peter stumbled over his words, trying to apologize for letting Morgan get her hands on a knife and putting her in harm's way.

Tony had been looking around the room for something and when his eyes landed on the bloody knife on the floor by Peter's foot. He looked between the knife and Peter's arm.

"Did your sister STAB you?" Tony asked, sounding confused and terrified as he looked between the knife and Morgan.

Peter was too out of it from blood loss and shock to even register that Tony had referred to Morgan as his sister, "No!" he exclaimed, "it was an accident."

Tony shook his head, "we will talk about this later. I want to hear the whole story," he said, more to Morgan than Peter, and she just nodded her head, tears still streaming down her face.

"Come on Pete, let's move up to the bathroom, that's where the first-aid kit is. Are you feeling light-headed? Can you walk okay? You can sit here, I can bring it down maybe. This is a lot of blood..." Tony trailed off, seeming to debate with himself if Peter was fit to walk.

"It's fine. I don't want to get blood on the carpets though," Peter replied, even though he was starting to feel a bit light-headed, he wasn't going to admit to it.

"I don't give a damn about the carpets, Peter. The very bottom of the list of things I care about actually. I was debating getting rid of them just because. I hope you get blood on them honestly, it would give me a good excuse," Tony half-joked, but he was still looking worried.

Tony reached out to put a hand on Peter's non-injured arm and to help him upstairs, but Peter instinctively moved away from the man before he could touch him. It was just a habit at this point.

"Right," Tony said, more to himself than to Peter, when he realized the kid wasn't going to let him help. "At least let me walk behind you so I can catch you if you pass out,"

Peter tried to determine if the man was joking, but the look on his face told him it was a serious request. Peter nodded and started to walk out of the kitchen, Mr. Stark following closely behind him.

At that moment, Pepper came around the corner, apparently having taken notice of the commotion in the kitchen. She quickly and silently assessed the situation before swooping in and picking Morgan up from the middle of the mess on the counter.

"Do you need any help," She asked Tony, there were unspoken questions hanging in her voice, but she wasn't going to pry while Peter was actively bleeding.

"I think we can manage," Tony replied, keeping his eyes on Peter.

"Okay, just yell if you need anything," She said, "I'm going to give Morgan a bath."

Peter continued out of the kitchen and up the stairs, using all of his energy to keep from swaying too much or from giving in and passing out. After what felt like an eternity, per Tony's instructions, he found himself sitting on the edge of the bathtub in the Stark's master bathroom. He wanted to feel awkward to be in their room again, but he was fully distracted by his arm.

Tony fetched the first aid kit from under the cabinets and knelt down in front of Peter.

"Can I take the towel off and get a better look," Tony asked.

"Um, I can unwrap it," Peter offered, moving to do it himself.

Tony hissed when the last layer of towel came away and he could see the angry cut running up his arm.

"She really got you good there kid. I think you might need stitches," He mused.

"It's not as bad as it looked," Peter defended. "Besides, I heal fast."

Tony shook his head, "I still think you need stitches. We have everything to do it here so we don't even have to go to the hospital. Rhodey put as all through field-medic training. I can do them for you.”

Peter waited for Tony to finish and then gave a firm, "No. I can do it myself if I need to. I've done it plenty of time."

Tony just stared at him, seemingly unsure of what to say. "What do you mean you've done it plenty of times? When have you been stitching yourself up???" he finally asked.

Peter shrugged, wincing when it pulled at his cut, "I was out doing the hero thing before I met you. And you can learn just about anything on YouTube these days."

Tony looked horrified at the idea of a fourteen-year-old Peter stitching himself up after a rough patrol. "Are you sure you won't let me help?" he tried, "I promise I'll be gentle."

"No. I can do it." Peter said resolutely. Tony gave in and started taking things out of the kit and handing them to Peter. Disinfectant, gauze, a numbing gel that Peter was certain would accomplish nothing but that he used just to appease the other man. Finally everything was clean and Tony hesitantly handed over the suture kit.

"I really don't like this kid. Can we just go to the hospital instead? Or I can call Rhodey or Bruce or something?" He tried one last time.

"It's fine Mr. Stark, I can do it," Peter assured him.

Tony sat stoically while Peter sewed up his cut, flinching every time the needle pierced his skin as though it was him getting the stitches. Peter made quick work of the injury and was soon accepting a bandage from Tony and binding up his injury.

"Look, good as new," Peter said lightly, trying to alleviate that tension that had settled over the room while he worked.

Tony examined him closely, seeming to search Peter's face, but for what, he didn't know.

"Okay, how about we head down to the living room. You need to eat something for your spidey-metabolism and I don't want you taking pain meds on an empty stomach."

Peter stood from the tub and swayed a bit when he got to his feet. Mr. Stark moved to help him but stopped just short. "Can I help, please?" Tony asked.

Peter shook his head no. "I can walk on my own. I'm okay, I promise."

+1

Tony was growing increasingly concerned. Watching Peter fighting to pull himself out of panic attacks without accepting any help was torture. The kid was 15 but had been through more trauma than most adults and Tony just desperately wanted Peter to let him be a parent and help bear that burden for him.

He was so conflicted as to where the line fell between giving Peter the space he needed and following his cues as to what would be helpful versus seeing where it wasn't working anymore and he had to play the adult card and step in. Peter had been fighting this battle by himself for over a month and if the kid didn’t start to get some real sleep, Tony was going to have to call in Dr. Cho or Bruce to work on some drugs for him because he was dead on his feet.

Mind made up, Tony set out to look for Peter. He found him sitting at the end of the dock, feet dangling over the water, staring out at the horizon, and walked out to join him. He knew Peter could hear him approach but the kid was either too caught up in his own thoughts to notice, or he just didn’t care, because he didn’t make any move to acknowledge Tony’s presence. Tony took a lack of rejection as an invitation to join him and sat down next to his kid, leaving a few inches between them. He turned so he was sitting cross-legged facing Peter, with the water off to his side.

“Kid, whatever it is that you think you have to handle on your own, you don’t,” Tony started, pleading in his voice, “I would do anything for you. I would go through it all a hundred times so that you wouldn’t have to experience any of it once, but I can’t do that. And it kills me to watch you suffer alone,” Tony’s voice cracked and he felt his own tears falling now, “I am begging you, Peter, if you won’t let me in for yourself, please, do it for me. I need you to let me help you.”

Peter shook his head ‘no.’ He was still looking out over the water but spoke softly, “You don’t understand, I can’t. I can’t talk to you, I can’t let you touch me, I can’t let you help. I just can’t.” Peter’s voice cracked as he spoke, “Just leave me alone. That’s what I need right now.”

Tony’s heart broke into even more pieces if that was even possible. For a moment he wrestled with the idea of giving in to Peter, of listening to the kid's plea for space and respecting that, but despite what Peter was saying, Tony knew that wasn’t what he actually needed.

“I am not going anywhere, kid. Please. You don’t have to talk to me right now, but can I please at least give you a hug?” Tony ached to hug his kid after letting Peter push him away for so long.

Peter shook his head almost imperceptibly. He finally turned his head and met Tony’s gaze, each one staring into the other's tear-filled eyes until Peter finally broke eye contact. His head fell forward, chin to chest, and gut-wrenching sobs wracked his frame. Tony almost joined him in sobbing, he was so at a loss as to what to do, but then very slowly, he leaned in. He gave Peter time to push him away, he had heard the kids say he didn’t want a hug with his words and Tony didn’t believe that was actually what he wanted, but he still moved at a glacial pace. It felt like an eternity, but the kid’s forehead was finally resting on Tony’s chest and he couldn’t take it anymore. Tony placed one hand on the back of his kid’s head, holding him against his chest, and he wrapped his other arm around him and pulled Peter firmly into his lap. Peter didn’t pull away. He melted into the embrace and started to sob even harder. Tony held him tightly, running his fingers through the boy's curls and gently started rocking back and forth.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, clutching each other, Peter sobbing loudly while Tony had silent tears streaming down his own face. Finally, Peter’s sobs slowed and he lifted his own tear-stained eyes to meet Tony’s, not moving from the man’s embrace.

“Tony,” Peter’s voice broke saying his name, “I think I need help.

Tony hugged Peter tighter if that was possible. “Okay,” he replied, his own voice thick with tears, “whatever you need, I am here.

“I’m so tired. I just want to sleep without having nightmares and not be afraid anymore,” Peter sniffed as he spoke, he was no longer sobbing but tears were still flowing freely down his face.

“I will never let anything else happen to you if I can help it. I know I can’t protect you from everything, but I swear I will do everything in my power to keep you safe,” Tony told him.

Peter nodded, “I feel like I’ll be afraid forever,” he confessed.

Tony hugged him tighter, “I know it feels like that but, but you have to trust me that eventually, you’ll be okay. I promise.”

[occasionallyish--archive]

Escapade

H.Shinsou x S.Todoroki, H.Shinsou x I.Midoriya, S.Todoroki x I.Midoriya, I.Midoriya x O.Uraraka, and various hints to other ships

Warnings: Slow burn(?), unrequited love, brief breaking of the fourth wall lmao

Have been writing since 03/07/2019

Word count 2810

Reblogs > Likes, pleasepleaseplease–

Lengthiness under the cut!

xx/12/xxxx ; The afternoon ; Outside ; Hitoshi Shinsou

Hitoshi shuddered, hands instinctively reaching to cup over his mouth in some attempt to warm them through his thick gloves. He gave warm, drawn out breaths that helped to spare his lips from the almost burning cold, however otherwise, the gesture proved fruitless– Even more than the occasional, leafless trees that he passed. And so, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and gave a somewhat frustrated sigh that easily converted into Winter fog.

He hated almost everything about the season– Shivering in the snow, persistent carolers, and the pressure to buy gifts for people that he barely knew. At least he had the excuse to take a break from school and hide inside during the whole of said break.

Regardless, however, the purple-haired male was there: Walking through the snow, toward the mall– clad in two-and-a-half layers of clothing–, with the intent to buy a Christmas present for a bush.

Said bush's name was Izuku Midoriya, one of the famed former students of class 1-A who not only survived multiple villain attacks, but also managed to help get Hitoshi into the hero course. Maybe it wasn't the achievement that he was most recognized for, but it was the one that truly spoke of his sincerity and kindness, in Hitoshi's heart.

...So what if he had a crush? Izuku already obviously had his own on a certain brunette from 2-B, so he knew he didn't have any chance– Having fallen for a straight boy.

As he continued to walk, a bitter taste was left in Shinsou's mouth.

xx/12/xxxx ; The afternoon ; Commons room ; Shouto Todoroki

A gentle sigh flitted from between the heterochromatic boy's lips as he laid on the sofa in the commons room, scrolling through a website that he'd found on his phone. As if to loosen the tense feeling that only Shouto seemed to experience, he hummed to himself, searching through lists upon lists of gifts upon gifts.

And still, nothing.

He wanted to find the perfect gift– Something that conveyed his feelings to Izuku without needing to use words; Something unlike anything else that he had ever even seen; Something special and completely unique, made only for him. That was what Shouto wanted to give his classmate; That was what Shouto wanted to give to his favorite person;

That was what Shouto wanted to give to the boy that he loved. While he was aware that his feelings weren't returned, and while he was aware that they never would be, he was going to tell him, come Christmas. And, with their relationship becoming deafeningly awkward, he was going to ruin the holiday for everybody in class 2-A. And he'd run back to his mother, and cry, and hide from the rest of the world until somebody other than Enji would inherit the agency– And then he'd become a hero through that and never have to see the pro hero Deku, again. He could already see it happening.

The boy with bicolored hair blinked before shaking his head, turning to pick his dead phone back into his hands.

As he stood to charge the pocket-sized computer, a solemn, cold feeling spread throughout Todoroki's veins.

25/12/xxxx ; The morning ; Commons room ; Neito Monoma

Neito was somehow of the first up, slipping down the stairs to see a pajama-clad Tooru, Mina, and Denki. The electric blonde was sitting at the table, 'recharging' himself with some oatmeal topped with whipped cream and banana slices– A combination that the former 1-B student saw disgust in. Tooru and Mina, however, were sitting near their bad excuse of a Christmas tree– of course, bless Ibara for growing it for them, but she admitedly could've done much better–, snooping around to see who got the most presents and guessing what said presents were. And Monoma, of course, was going to be the one to put a stop to it.

"Ashido, Hagakure! Don't be so childish as to peek through the presents! While it is to be expected of you 1-A brats, those are saved for later when we're all up together!"

"Omigosh, Monoma, you're starting to sound like Iida–" Ashido's attention was immediately captured by the boy, albeit not for the reason that he'd been looking for. Monoma's frown grew.

"That isn't the point!–"

"Eh?... 'S too early for this..." An all-too-familiar voice complained tiredly, an open yawn sounding from the same direction. "...Why not be Christmasy 'n cheery 'n stuff, instead?" Hitoshi sounded half asleep, as he always was before his usual morning coffee– Bitter and black, as he often described his soul.

A steel-haired boy– having previously gone unnoticed– then gave his hum, sending a sunshine smile from the kitchen to his classmate, "Coffee's on the pot if you need some, Shin!" Tetsutetsu called, being one of the few 2-A students who could easily bear the early hours.

A thin, lazy smile found its way onto Hitoshi's face. "Perfect timing. Thanks."

25/12/xxxx ; The early afternoon ; Kitchen ; Momo Yaoyorozu

The bushy-haired boy hobbled downstairs with a yawn, fuzzy sock slipping at the bottom– But, of course, a tall ravenette was there to catch him.

"Good morning, Midoriya." The young woman called softly as she gripped his shoulders, easing him into more of an upright position. She chose not to comment on it, as based on the shorter's expression, the near incident was enough of a wake-up call. "Did you sleep well?"

"Um–" Izuku began as they headed toward the kitchen, still recovering from the split-second panic. "Y-yeah. I was really excited, last night, so I think I went to bed, too late, though..." His voice trailed off into more of a tired mumble, which was always adorable– Sometimes, Momo was convinced that she was surrounded by a litter of cute, rambunctious puppies and not the future's greatest heroes.

"Yes. I think that you're the last one up, actually." She commented matter-of-factly, reaching into a cupboard to retrieve a pouch of caffeinated tea. "Would you like some tea to help wake you up?" She asked before her friend had the chance to feel guilty.

Sometimes, Yaoyorozu very easily read her peers. More than just Izuku knew this, as he nodded with his "Mmhm, thank you."

25/12/xxxx ; The early afternoon ; Dorms ; Fumikage Tokoyami

Quite the diverse group was walking through the snow, making the short trek from class 2-B's dorm building to class 2-A's– Said group consisting of an explosive boy, a bubbly brunette, a horned blonde, and a bird-headed boy. Katsuki Bakugou and Ochako Uraraka were exchanging their comments, as the frenemies often did, while Fumikage Tokoyami and Pony Tsunotori kept to themselves.

That was fine, however, as the trip was short– It wasn't long before a sharp redhead was opening the door, laughing at something that his twin-like friend had said. "Come on in, guys!" Eijirou'd said between chuckles.

Of course, Fumikage gratefully accepted the invite to come in, happy to shed his thick scarf and jacket– Even if he enjoyed the cold, he could only take it to an extent. The crow-like boy made a point to leave his garments on the coat rack, for later, before perching onto one of the arms of a couch.

He only observed, for a time– How Ochako easily found her way toward Momo and Izuku, and how two other boys also seemed to be carefuly regarding the group. How Mina and Denki seemed to momentarily deflate when they'd been told their tape friend was celebrating off-campus. How festive Yuuga looked, with his Rudolph-inspired makeup and fake antlers. How Tooru and Nirengeki seemed to really enjoy decorating Ibara's head.

25/12/xxxx ; The afternoon ; Commons room ; Ochako Uraraka

Eventually, conversations around the sofas seemed to float toward Ochako's distaste with being separated from her previous classmates. "Yeah, I've gotten to know lots of great people in 2-B, but kinda miss sharing class with my friends from last year, y'know?" She'd pointed out, which had lit flares of passion in those such as Katsuki and Eijirou.

"I miss my friends, too." Izuku chimed in, at some point, which seemed to easily halt Ochako and Katsuki's oncoming argument. "But, I think it's just natural that we.. Mm, I don't know how to put it. Expand? But, also, well..." The green-haired boy paused, trying not to spiral into a moment of muttering. "And, we can all still see eachother, after classes." He pointed out with a smile, and that was that.

"Such is the way of life." Fumikage added as somewhat of a word of advice.

Ochako couldn't help but notice how Pony folded her hands in her lap, leaning back into the couch as her blank stare and almost wistful smile faced nobody in particular. "I have no idea what you just said." She commented, which did cause some giggles and snickers to sound around their sort of cirlce– Ochako's sweetly humored one, included.

25/12/xxxx ; The afternoon ; Commons room ; Eijirou Kirishima

Everybody who said they'd attend the gathering seemed to be there, and most importantly, everybody seemed to have relaxed. The faux-redhead gave a shark-toothed grin as he carefully slid a headband onto a blonde's head– Of course, as soon as said blonde felt it, his hand lifted for a deathgrip around Eijirou's wrist.

He was glad that his quirk easily resisted his friend.

"Can you guess which reindeer you are?" He gave suppressed giggles as Katsuki's grip lightened, hand soon dropping into his lap. It was nice that the explosive boy's temper seemed to have lengthened– Even if only somewhat, at least something had definitely changed between his first argument with Tenya, and now.

Katsuki shifted slightly, his expression more of a neutral sort of grumpy. "Rudolph?" He guessed the obvious one, an eyebrow raised.

"Nope! I'm pretty sure Aoyama's got that covered, haha."

"...None of the other names are important." The blonde mumbled lowly, head leaned back to ensure only the boy behind him heard that. It was his way of admitting that he had no clue what the other reindeer's names were.

"Blitzen–" Kirishima couldn't help bursting into laughter, and admittedly, a small smile did tug at Katsuki's lips. "Because– Y'know–" He tried to speak between laughs, as he imitated the sound of an explosion.

25/12/xxxx ; The late afternoon ; The kitchen ; Rikido Satou

"Hey– Where are Midoriya and Todoroki?" Rikido asked, just about finished with handing out his festive sugar cookies– Only a little candycane and bushel of holly were left. He set his tray onto the counter as he glanced around the kitchen, no Izuku nor Shouto in sight.

"I saw them head for the elevators," Ochako chimed in, finding her seat atop the corner of the table. "Maybe Deku's giving Todoroki another present? Or– Y'know, the other way around?"

It made sense– Not long after the bushy-haired shounen protagonist had woken up, the group took their turns around the tree to hand out gifts. While they both received their abundance of presents, it'd seemed Shouto was still somewhat anticipatory, an emotion unlike his usually stoic self. Though the brunette gave a shrug, deciding to dismiss that detail, for the time being.

"Oh, well– Todoroki can reheat them, when he gets back, if they're cold by then."

25/12/xxxx ; The late afternoon ; The hall ; Mina Ashido

She didn't mean to eavesdrop, she swore to herself– She'd only been headed to the bathroom, when she'd overheard Izuku mentioning something about how much he loved something. And Mina, being the occasionally less-than-polite person that she was, couldn't help but to stick around, pressing her back to the wall and listening to two boys, around the corner.

"I'm glad– I wanted to make sure that my gift for you was special." She could tell that that was the deeper voice of Shouto, albeit uncharacteristically warm. And maybe Mina was somewhat upset that she didn't have the chance to know whatever the supposed special gift was, but she wasn't going to risk compromising her position in what sounded like a private moment.

"Well, thank you, Todoroki. I... I really appreciate you, y'know."

"And I–" Shouto cut himself off, though, and the pink girl physically recoiled as she realized that now was the moment that he'd finally be attempting a confession. She may not have been the most academically exemplary girl, but she'd been damned if she hadn't noticed every fleeting touch, every shy glance, every missed opportunity that her peppermint peer had suffered through.

She decided to walk away, though, keeping quiet as not to alert the boys. Part of her felt guilty, feeling as if she'd tainted the secrecy of the special interaction.

But as she stepped away, she did catch a quieter, forlorn phrase. "...You're my best friend, Izuku."

30/12/xxxx ; The morning ; Dorm room ; Kyouka Jirou

"The original is a lot less shitty." A certain Katsuki Bakugou commented gruffly, as the plumette experimented with her playlist. At current, she was playing some song called 'Hey There Delilah,' albeit sung in the Japanese that she knew, as opposed to its originally English version.

Kyouka raised a brow, ony briefly letting her attention flit toward the other. "Sure, but none of us can really understand the lyrics." She spoke nonchalantly, pushing herself up to fiddle with one of the speakers that Momo had previously helped her set up.

Katsuki gave his little "Tch," as he turned away, mentioning something about how he had no problem understanding English. And knowing the overachiever, that was likely true, she figured as he left the conversation.

This year, part of class 2-A– and even some 2-B students– had decided that they would be staying at the dorms for the New Year, watching whatever festivities and celebrating behind the safety of their tv. As such, Kyouka, Momo, and an unexpected Katsuki had banded together in lieu of decking out the Heights Alliance, for the upcoming holiday.

They mostly spent time cleaning and setting up a dorm sound system, but if all went well, every second of effort was going to be worth it.

31/12/xxx ; Shortly before midnight ; The commons room ; Izuku Midoriya

His peers had really done well with decorating, Izuku acknowledged for the umpteenth time as he chose his spot beside Ochako. Admittedly, he's been set on confessing for a while now, but never quite found the courage to voice his feelings.

But that was okay, as he gently tapped the brunette on the shoulder– Her cheeks grew rosier than usual when she noticed his outstretched hand, taking it after only a second of overthinking.

Maybe he didn't need words, after all, because he already had a passion in his heart and what seemed to be reciprocated feelings. Their fingers intertwined as the television flashed, counting down to a moment that both anticipated dearly. And Izuku couldn't stifle his shy grin, watching tentatively as Ochako's attention flitted between his face and the brightly-colored screen.

Neither had to say anything. Not now. Not until the rest of the small group cheered "Zero!", and not until they shared a wonderfully perfect kiss.

01/01/xxxx ; Shortly after midnight ; The roof ; Hitoshi Shinsou & Shouto Todoroki

After that, Hitoshi found himself fleeing the scene. Of course, he knew that it was inevitable, but that didn't stop him from hurting as much as he did. He rode the elevator and then climbed the stairs, stopping only once he stood atop the roof.

Shouto couldn't help but trail the plumette up to the top of the building, masking his similar need to escape with curiosity and concern. Considering they were heroes-in-training, it had been unusually easy to do so, to slip out of the room and follow him. Almost concerningly so, as the bicolored boy paused to eye the other's silhouette– To anticipate his next move.

Now, he wasn't stupid. He knew that much as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the roof's railing. Hitoshi glanced over his shoulder to acknowledge the other's presence, sending a silent invitation to join him. With the way that he strode beside him, it was apparent that the youngest Todoroki was reluctant.

But neither had to say anything, for a long time. They simply stood beside one another, gazes focused on the moon or the sky or the city below them. Or maybe even one another. Shouto found comfort in this moment, but he did eventually break away, wanting to allow the plumette to mourn in peace.

But as the other turned, Shinsou reached and gently gripped his forearm. "Hey," his voice was smooth and gentle enough to coax Shouto back, to make him want to return to that moment. And he did, standing closer to his peer, now.

[meet-me-onthe-equinox]

I'm eternally grateful for each one of these you write.

There you go, you precious you! Thank you again ^-^

[AO3 Version]

Friends

July 14, 1952

No matter how many times Jack complained about theheat, the extended amount of daylight and all those bugs returning from hell,Andy knew there were still things his son enjoyed during the summer. Fishing onthe Potomac bank was one of them, especially since Ron had told Andy about thisoff-the-beaten-track place upstream, where fish were plentiful and people werescarce. Plus, the view was amazing.

‘‘I bet I get more fish than you this time,’’ Jacksaid as he reeled in.

‘‘Really?’’ Andy rolled up his pant legs. ‘‘What makesyou think so?’’

‘‘I’m a seer, remember? I had a vision of you givingme your dessert.’’

‘‘Not a chance,’’ Andy couldn’t really tell if the boywas messing with him, but, in any case, he wasn’t willing to risk his slice ofApril’s Poisonous Pie. Which, by the way, was all but toxic. ‘‘You’re so on!’’

Andy picked his rod up from the ground and winded thereel handle as fast as he could. Jack was already baiting the hook, but it fellfrom his hands as soon as he finished – he’d forgotten to tie it to the line.Father and son watched as the current dragged the hook towards Andy’s position.Letting it pass by would give him a great advantage – Jack would have to fumblein the tackle box for another one. Still, the man found himself running afterit, clumsily (and painfully) stepping on the hard rocks on the bottom of the river.The hook slipped through Andy’s fingers when he finally reached it, but hemanaged to catch it on second attempt. Of course, he drenched himself in theprocess.

‘‘Got it!’’ Andy proudly showed it to Jack as helimped towards him.

‘‘Thanks, dad,’’ the kid smiled at his father, yet hiswide eyes seemed to be looking right through him. He was dissociating again –April and Jack’s minds would sometimes go elsewhere, and finding more aboutthose whereabouts was one of Andy’s favorite pastimes.

‘‘What?’’ Andy handed Jack the retrieved item.

‘‘Nothing.’’ Considering Andy’s practice, nothing was usually an easy door toopen. He could do it with just a look. ‘‘It’s just…’’ the door unlocked, ‘‘Iwas wondering, what happened to your leg?’’

‘‘Oh, this?’’ Andy pointed at the red marks on hiscalf. ‘‘I must have scratched it on some rock.’’

‘‘No, I mean… You walk funny,’’ Jack shrugged and gavehim an apologetic look. As if he knew there were certain things that shouldn’tbe asked. As if that was the reason he’d never asked before. ‘‘Which is prettycool,’’ he added.

Oddly enough, Andy wasn’t hurt by any of those words.Instead, he realized he’d been unconsciously waiting for that moment, who knewfor how long. He just hadn’t gathered the courage to bring it up, maybe becauseof all the memories that would come along, memories he spent every secondtrying to avoid. Or maybe because it wasn’t a conversation any seven-year-oldshould have. Even so, Jack deserved to know.

‘‘Well, it was all because of friendship,’’ Andy satdown on a plain stone; his son followed suit.

‘‘See? That’s why I don’t make any,’’ Jack laughed.Andy didn’t.

‘‘Actually, it would have been way worse if I hadn’thad any friends over there.’’

‘‘Over there as in… Europe?’’

Yes, Jack knew about the war. But only as a vagueconcept, just the hollow idea of people fighting for countries. Ketchup allover the place. The way it was supposed to be.

‘‘Yeah,’’ Andy paused and took a deep breath. ‘‘Oursquad was bombing some German oil plant. A piece of cake, even easierconsidering we weren’t ki-’’ he cleared his throat. Even the truth had itslimits. ‘‘But then some axis fleet came out of nowhere and attacked us.’’

‘‘What’s an axis?’’

‘‘That’s how the bad guys were called,’’ Andy skippeda stone.

‘‘Oh.’’

‘‘Ron started giving us instructions over the radio,but it all soon became a total chaos. I tried my best to dodge the shooting,flying up and down, just hoping I wouldn’t crash into anything.’’ Andy wipedthe sweat running down his forehead. ‘‘And then I saw Tom.’’

‘‘A friend of yours?’’

Andy nodded. ‘‘A couple of enemy planes were chasing him.I went right after and shot down one of them… But it was too late. The otherone had already shot Tom’s fuel tank. I saw the fireball and I… Paralyzed.That’s when something hit me. My B-17 started spiraling, everything was blurrythrough the small windows and most of the alarms went off. My left leg ached ashell…’’ Andy stopped right there, a lump starting to form in his throat.

‘‘It’s okay, dad,’’ Jack placed one hand on his father’sshoulder and left it there, like those small fingers could absorb his pain.‘‘C’mon, let’s catch some fish.’’

And, honestly, there wasn’t anything Andy wanted to domore. Just fishing with his son and forget all about it. Yet, there wassomething else Jack needed to know and learn from.

‘‘Your uncle Ben,’’ Andy went on. ‘‘He saved me. I wascompletely lost up there, my aircraft gaining speed as it plummeted. But Ben’svoice woke me. He told me to jump, and reminded me how to use the parachute – Ididn’t pay much attention when they taught us because, you know, your mother’sletters were quite concerning at the time.’’

‘‘Concerning how?’’

‘‘Well, that’s a whole other story,’’ Andy chuckled.‘‘The point is, I survived because I had friends.’’

‘‘Lucky you,’’ Jack muttered. How could a child solittle be so self-defeating?

‘‘You have friends, too, Jack. And you know it.’’

The kid rolled his eyes, which was his way ofadmitting Paul and Tim were actually pretty good friends.

‘‘So, son… Don’t take them for granted, okay?’’

‘‘Okay,’’ Jack looked him in the eye at last,seemingly acknowledging the lesson.

‘‘And now you’d better tie that line carefully. Iwouldn’t lose my dessert for the world!’’

Andy stuck his tongue at his son, who hurriedlygrabbed the hook again with a playful smile on his lips. And just like that, theyboth were children again.