#my aunt recovering from brain surgery still

[doodle17]

Psychonauts 3 minor antagonist >:)

D'Artagnan Astubelief! The "mystery" person who's been framing Raz! Or at least one of the people behind it...

Im still trying to figure out was his motivation could be... I was thinking maybe his Aunt who I might make (at least One of) the main antagonist could be influencing him, but I still need a motivation. I'd love to hear any ideas!

I also updated his lore! Like- a lot! I'll put it under a read more >:)

*None of this official, btw. all of this based purely off my headcanons*

D'Art used to be born Psychic, but I changed it to where he was actually born NON-psychic, but becomes psychic due to some.... Stuff

SO D'Arts mom, Natasha, got super sick while she was pregnant with D'arts little sister, Ania. Unfortunately, after Ania was born, Natasha was so weak she couldn't fight her illness and she passed a few days later.

D'Art's dad, Ronan, was so overcome with grief over his wife, that it had a huge impact on D'art and his family.

Fast forward about 5-ish years, right as Ronan is finally starting to recover from the loss if his wife, D'art gets the same sickness. And similarly to his mother, he dies. Ronan is once again absolutely crushed by the death of his youngest son. At this point, he can't take the loss of another loved one anymore, and on one rainy night goes to see his aunt.

Dr. Vladlena Astubelief is studies in the paranormal. Including necromancy and re-animation. But don't let the "Dr." In her name fool you, a lot of her experiments are very cruel and botched. Unfortunately, Ronan is also very desperate.

He begs for her to help bring D'art back. She's only ever experienced on dead animals, so she was very delighted to be given the chance to experiment on an actual person. She took D'Art's body and sent Ronan back to the rest of his family, saying if all goes well she'll return D'art herself.

Fast forward 2 botched surgeries/dissections, and replacing bits of his non-psychic brain with psychic bits, which were totally not stolen, and Ronan gets a call, saying D'Artagnan will be dropped off, alive and well.

D'Art is returned back to his family, so things are all fun and good now! Right?... Well...

Yes, D'Art is back, but his personality and behavior is very different. He used to be very energetic and bright. Playing with his siblings and helping out with chores best he can, always willing to lend a hand. After he came back, he became distant and cynical. Appearance wise, he also looked a lot more pale, his hair even started to turn white, when it was originally jet black like his dad's

It turned white thanks to his Aunts experiments, and also the fact that he's basically half alive

[unreadpoppy]

Personal vent under the cut bc the depression hit hard

I don’t want to say I had a bad year but I had a terrible 6 months. It feels like since June I can barely catch a break. Both of my grandmothers passed away and although I didn’t have a relationship with them, it was a hit to the family. My aunt discovered and had to do a surgery for a brain aneurysm the day after my grandmother’s funeral. My paternal grandmothers house was robbed and we had a box there that was full of all the photos she had in her house, we were going to bring it to ours once my aunt was better, but the robber fucking ripped all of them.

All the friends that I made in college disappointed me again and again, and my friendship with them has thinned out to the point where they don’t even really acknowledge me when in public but I don’t know what I did to make them act the way they did towards me.

I left my psychiatrist, went to a new one who gave me medication that made me vomit twice in college, so now I have no psychiatrist or meds, and I’m reluctant to go to another one and it sucks again.

I feel so unappreciated and I hate that I need to have external validation for me to feel good about myself, even though I know half of the things I do for others never receive a “thanks Brenda”

I feel disconnected from my own culture even if it’s the only one I’ve ever known and it sucks.

My self esteem took a big hit in the beginning of the year and I don’t think I’ve really recovered since and my parents sure don’t fucking help because even when I’m desperately crying they put the blame on me or they’ll shout at me

I feel like I can’t do a thing without being criticized by my family

My brother did something that really hurt me emotionally and when I tried bringing it up to our parents it was brushed off and I was blamed for it and I’m still hurt by his actions

I hate that I feel so much jealousy

And I have so many other things to say but mostly sometimes I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore and why do I feel the way I do most of the time and what the hell do I want to do

[mega-ultra-so-awesome-it-hurts]

Replaced... For The Better (p2!!!)

Pairings: Paul Lahote x reader, Jasper hale x reader, Paul Lahote x Jasper Hale

Warnings: LOTS of angst. TRIGGER WARNINGS. SHITTY WRITING AND AWFUL AND CLICHE CONCEPT. READ AT OWN RISK.

Genre: ANGSTTTT

Word Count: 1026 (pretty short)

Request: Nope, but Y’ALL I’M BORED!! HIT ME UPPP

A/N: I TOTALLY DID THAT Y’ALL (that’ll make sense towards the end)! Here y’all go. This’ll hurt your damn feelings doe!!

A/N: (GIF’s are not mine! Credit to owners)

You were driving through the suburbs (Yes i did okay? I couldn’t resist. Fight me). You were, by definition, lost. 

Come on, Y/N, you scolded yourself. Don’t be stupid. Just turn around. You were still in awe at what you had done. You shouldn’t have. Paul loved you. He’d said so, many times. You were in disarray. If a policeman were to pull you over, he’d probably immediately assume you were using drugs. Your headscarf was hanging halfway off your head, and your duffel bag sat in the seat next to you. 

Where would you go? You weren’t sure. Your aunt had said that you were welcome to stay with her if you ever needed, but you didn’t want to bother the poor woman.

It was silly, really. You running away like this. You didn’t know why you had done it. Paul would be so worried. He would probably call Jasper for comfort. And then he would blame himself for your disappearance. Oh, God! Why had you left?

Maybe you had felt jealous? No. That wasn’t your style. Maybe it was the sense of abandonment? Yes, that was it. Your father had left your mother at an early stage in your life. You couldn’t  have been any older than 6 years old. It had left a scar. A need to constantly prove your worth. It was unfortunate, really. You had never had a successful relationship because of it. Until Paul. 

It was a stormy evening, but you were sitting in the rain. Your mom had just died. 

“You okay?” You had jumped at the sudden break in silence. 

“Yes.” Your words sounded hollow, even to you. The strange man had sat down with you, and held you in the rain. You had cried for an hour into the arms of a man you didn’t know, but he just held you. Didn’t say a word. Three weeks later, y’all were dating. And nine months after that, y’all were to be married.

The thoughts flowing through your mind became too much for you to handle. You slammed your foot on the brakes, slowing the car down and pulling over to the sides of the road. It was still pitch black outside, but that didn’t phase you. You opened the door, stumbling out of the car. Leaving it behind, keys and all, you ran. You ran away from the car Paul got you as a present for your third date, and with that, it felt like you were running further away from Paul too. Tears stained the ground, signifying that you had been there. They would be dry by morning, but you felt safer this way. It was almost as if you were leaving a trail for him to find.

It was cold, but that was to be expected.You didn’t know what time it was, and you didn’t care. You were running so fast that all sight of your little f/c car with the blinking bright lights, was gone. You stopped to take a breath. 

You heard a motor whirring somewhere behind you, but you paid it no mind. It was a road, after all. But then, two blinding lights came rushing towards you from behind. You turned your head, curious as to what the hell that driver was doing. You were greeted by the same blinding lights. Your eyes widened as the truck made impact.

“Dr. Cullen!” Carlisle Cullen turned to see the desk registration woman, a nice elderly woman called Peggy, running towards him.

“We’ve got another one!” Peggy’s face was distressed. She fell in line with Carlisle, having to walk rather quickly to keep up with him.

“Talk to me.”

“Jane doe, car accident. Well, the guy that hit her was in a truck, and he’s fine. But she was most likely not, from what her injuries tell us. Estimated age 19. The poor thing had almost every bone in her body broken. It’s a miracle she’s even still alive. Dr.Cullen, she needs to be-”

“Dad!” Carlisle didn’t pay much attention at first. It was a hospital, after all. There were plenty of fathers here, and plenty of those fathers had sons. But it was the cold hand on his shoulder and the worried golden eyes that alerted him to something being amiss.

“Edward? Son, what’s wrong?” Carlisle searched the boys face for a sign of what was going on.

“Jasper. He’s frantic. Says Paul Lahote called him. Paul’s imprint, Y/N Y/L/N. She’s gone missing. Car, everything. Paul says she left a note. ‘Maybe someday, we can be strangers again.’  Carlisle felt the dread pooling his stomach. Edwards eyes widened.

“You don’t think-”

“I don’t know, Son. Why don’t you head back home? Be with your family.” Carlisle smiled  what he hoped was  a reassuring smile. Edward was skeptical, but fulfilled his father’s request. 

Carlisle hurried to the room that Peggy had informed him held the “poor dear” that was in the accident. Opening the door, all traces of hope drained from his face.

“Oh, no,” he whispered to the O.R. A draft flew into his face, as if the air conditioning agreed with him. You were bloody and broken, that was for sure, but it was you. You most likely wouldn’t survive the night, surgery or non. He knew what he had to do, but he wasn’t sure whether or not he had the courage to do it. He didn’t want to condemn you to his life, especially if by some miracle, you recovered. So, he donned his work gloves and set to it. 

A/N: So, that was P2!! Excuse my reeeeally crappy piece of work! I was SO excited to write it, and my brain decided to fail me just now. I was jumping around A LOT. Feel like it wasn’t as good as the first, but y’all be the judges! As always, REALLY hope you enjoyed this! What do we think? Should the reader survive, and come out as a human? Should she be turned, and join the Cullen family? Or, should R pass on, and join her mother on the other side?? Haha jk. I wouldn’t do that to y’all. I’m not that mean (or am i??). But seriously, tell me what y’all think. But just know, this is an angst/drama series, so whatever you DO choose, get ready for a (un)healthy amount of drama!!!! BUT ANYWAY! Not tryna make this A/N longer that the actual story, so i’ll shut up now. But as always, send me an ask/message if you have a request! I do everything BUT ships! If you need to talk, I’m (usually) here!!! No douchey comments, i’m serious! Be yourself loves! Luv y’all, have a blessed day!!

[0therainbowmind0]

It's...about me...2020/21 till now...

I am from Taiwan, pandemic hit my family quite hard. At first it wasn’t as significant. But draining nonetheless. from 2020 actually, but I think the most significant and trouble begins in late 2020 and gone crazy in 2021...

the snowball just rolling bigger and bigger. I moved from Singapore back to Taiwan, considerably not moved but just stop in Taiwan and not able to go back due to lock down and eventually not able to go back after all.

I live with my parents, have really close relationship with them and a few family member (grandpa, uncle and aunt)

So first it start with family member got positive, so, hospitalize, need treatment. Even with government subsidy, still need to self paying really big portion of money. And it’s not just one member, but 5…then 6…life saved, all recovering, a bless for that.

Grandpa test result is negative, phewww, but he was shocked to know his children and grandchildren got positive, and probably that was the main reason, he fell down, and broke his near hipbone there. End up need to surgery, ICU, hospitalize (he is over 80+yo…), life saved, is recovering, need to do physical therapy. Huge amount of money in this, but anything that keep him alive. And continue to reassure him that it will all be fine. (He had to stay alone in hospital due to covid, need to constantly encourage him that no, no one is given him up. And all will be fine)

I fell down one day luckily I stopped before face plant onto the wall in front, not major injury. Just food was spoiled (handful of food for family at the time). But I got fooled into scam, something when I recap I just felt I was stupid and unknown what gotten in me to get tricked into it… Money lost.

Mom fell down when trying to change the lightbulb, fell down from ladder, luckily no major issue, pain here and there time to time, up till now. And not feeling well at times…At least she is somewhat healthy. Didn’t go hospital to check, she refused, knowing it cause another huge money blowing.

Dad got into car accident, ICU for a week, hit his head, lucky that doc said it need only observation, no need brain surgery, but surgery on face (lots of broken bone on face), hospitalize for weeks, live saved. CT scanned can see it really smashed, but thank god, really that nothing cause permanent damage beside bones… Still remember us, still can communicate well, and slowly back to normal daily routine. Money blowing, still need to go back check up weekly, but he is getting stronger and stronger.

I don’t know what happened to us, I only pray that it will all get better, though I don’t know how, when billing, when everything. I throw all my saving to save things I can. Life are saved, I just don’t know how to carry on live daily.

As mentioned earlier, I didn’t get to ‘move back’ to Taiwan with parents, but just stop here. So all belonging in Singapore was still there. Is, still there, up till now.

I paid for rent there, so things can still not thrown out. I was naive, thinking pandemic will end soon enough. I asked friends (best friend) if can help. I thanked them for willing help me with it. Turn out…not so well, it’s a whole lot mess and still a mess.

I thanked them nonetheless, but I guess I really a shit friend, if not why I even ask them help at the beginning? So of course I got a lot of blame for them to do all the cleaning job (on my flat, it’s a messy one.) Accused that it was a mini warehouse, and all rubbish thing I view as something worth but all worthless. I beg them just send them to me, I’ll sort out I will pay. Just that I can’t rental it anymore. I don’t have anymore money but I will try to sort out money to box and shipment. Some of the thing I finally got, not the top list essential, cause it seems we got different opinion on what’s important. I didn’t know what they packed, because they don’t want to tell me. Felt it was troublesome. Told me to not bother to ask or message, when time available they will send to me and just pay will do. Doesn’t matter how much shipment actual cost, I should pay for their service too. Of course…

I was really upset, but I cannot do anything. I can’t blame them, I have to thank them. At least at the beginning they did agree to help. It’s my fault things turn bad. Maybe I rely on people too much. Maybe I view myself too big, I am not a good friend of them, it’s just my own one-side wish.

At least my family’s life saved. I still have a rent flat in Taiwan with my mom and dad. I landed a job, even it can’t cover everything, but at least better than nothing at all. It’s just that I am not capable enough to support family finance after my dad had to retire, and all money blow up whatsoever.

I am trying to find other source to fund, I even try open this Ko-Fi hope maybe it might works. I still hope it will. I can write and a little bit draw and design. Any fund and possible commission is fine, as long as possible to work out. I also know I am not something big with skill or anything.

I just…really wish something good will happen and things will get better.

Please…

Long post, just wish…something can be better. Or maybe just have fun chatting, and I still like fandom and write things as a way to release stress and get my mind out of those negative thing.

[monaisme]

One Week Later - Chapter One

This is the sequel to my one-shot, “The Battle”

He had drifted in and out of the consciousness for the first five days-- which he guessed, after the fact, had been a blessing.

His transformation, which had taken three days the first time 'round, still hadn't quite finished seven days later.

He was trying to be patient but, well, it would’ve been nice to sleep all the way through to the end. It seemed he was destined to suffer fits and jags of pain and spontaneous naps to recover from them. It hurt... and it sucked.

Dr. Cho couldn't be 100% certain as she hadn't been around after the bite, but she'd felt safe in assuming that the prolonged change had to do with all of Peter's injuries from both Titan all those years ago and the battle in Upstate New York. The concussion had been pretty significant, according to the doctor. Multiple scans had been taken to keep track of that healing, seeing as he'd been so out of it from the worst of the fever. The broken ribs still had a ways to go towards knitting back together but he could inhale just a little deeper before it hurt so that was a win. And there was no need for stitches for the deeper stab wounds—Mr. Stark’s nanoparticles were taking care of that. The dislocated shoulder, however, still required surgery.

Correction. Another surgery. Peter looked up at the clock on the wall... in about thirty minutes.

Arthroscopic surgery had apparently been performed on the second day after the battle, once all of the other wounded had been tended to, not that Peter remembered much from those first five days. Tendons and cartilage had been damaged to the point that Dr. Cho was certain it needed intervention so she'd done her medical magic per Spider-Man protocols, being as non-invasive as possible, knowing that Peter's body could do the rest-- except that it hadn't.

It had been quite the gong show, in fact—his fever had spiked along with his blood pressure and all sorts of bad things had Dr. Cho plus Mr. Stark and all the rest worried out of their minds.

... but he was definitely on the mend now.

Really.

Peter fussed at his hospital gown nervously and  wondered, not for the first time, if maybe he still had some dust stuck somewhere in him-- gumming up the works like Uncle Ben used to say when their old '97 Pontiac Firefly would stall again and again and again-- or something like that. He couldn't be sure, but yeah, he was definitely curious about it.

"Knock, knock!" The rapping of knuckles against the door frame pulled Peter from his commiserating. "Guess what surprise the most super-amazing best mentor on the planet got for his currently boo-booed Spider-mentee?" Mr. Stark grinned big and slid into the med bay room.

Peter tried to think of something he’d wanted, then brightened immediately as hope flared. He looked to the man and then at the doorway Mr. Stark had just vacated. "Is May here?!" He asked eagerly. He repressed the flinch of pain as he struggled to sit up in the bed. "Did Dr. Strange finally get May here? May?!" He called out.

Peter was too busy trying to look around Mr. Stark to notice the look of regret flashing across his face before he could school it into something more sympathetic. “I’m sorry, kid.” He stepped up to the bed and moved to help Peter lay back down. “I should have been more thoughtful.“ He pulled the blankets back up to the boy’s neck and tucked him in tight. “One of the wizards was willing to make a pit stop and grabbed you a sandwich from Delmar’s before coming back to Wakanda. It came back hot so I’ve got it hiding away in one of the kitchen’s fancy stasis units and is ready for you as soon as you get the all clear from Dr. Cho to eat after they take care of...” Mr. Stark waved toward Peter’s shoulder, “that.”

Peter flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, I just thought that...” He trailed off, and sighed. “It’s not that I’m not grateful, Mr. Stark, I promise! It’s just that everyone else has family being brought over and I’m sure that everyone is really busy, I only hoped that...” His eyes glistened with tears he was trying so hard to not let fall. He used his arm to brush the wetness away. “I’m just being a baby. Sorry.”

He had tried to tamp down the jealousy he’d felt when Mr. Barton had popped by to introduce himself properly and had gushed about how amazing it was to see his wife and kids after the last five years—not that he could wrap his brain around that bit of information yet, but still—

Where was May?

Mr. Stark interrupted his wandering thoughts with the brushing of his hand against Peter’s cheek. “You’re not being a baby, so stop talking that way. You’re allowed to miss her, and once this is all over and you get the all clear to leave the med bay, we’ll get you to our temporary quarters so you can have a good, long video call with her, okay?” Mr. Stark moved to run his fingers through Peter’s hair, then leaned forward, “Don’t tell anyone I said this,” He whispered conspiratorially, “But the tech here is incredible. When everything is settled, we may need to set up a play date between you and Shuri.” He gave a wink and straightened up as he noticed one of the nurses enter the room with a rolling cart full of medical supplies.

The nurse smiled kindly at the two heroes and then focused on Peter. “I’m glad that you’re awake. Dr. Cho has asked me to get final prep out of the way.” She snapped on a pair of gloves and starting pulling out supplies for an IV. “She’d prefer a new line so we can keep you on the IV nutrients during the procedure,” She assessed his still slinged arm, then moved down the bed to uncover his leg. “I think we’ll do a little reorganizing so we can just get this done quickly and be off. The surgical suite is ready for you, so if you’re good, we can get this show on the road and get you on the mend.”

Peter blanched and looked to Mr. Stark with sheer terror on his face. Being unconscious and having surgery was easy, this was a whole other kettle of fish. “Um...” He struggled to not panic. “Mr. Stark?” His breathing started to pick up.

Both the nurse and Mr. Stark picked up on the cues right away. Mr. Stark grabbed the boy’s good hand in support and gave the nurse a quick look. She backed out of the room without another word and closed the door behind her.

“Hey, hey, kiddo. You’re okay,” Mr. Stark soothed. “Why don’t you take a deep breath me, yeah?” He pulled in an exaggerated breath. “In...” and then blew it out with just as much effort. “... and out.”

Peter tried, then flinched, grunted, and then shifted to try and relieve the pain that flared in his ribs even as his anxiety ramped up and he struggled to catch his breath.

“Oh, shit! Sorry, sweetheart. Sorry!” His hands fluttered around Peter, trying to find something to fix. Mr. Stark looked to be on the edge of his own panic attack but Peter could do nothing. Then Mr. Stark lit up as he apparently came up with another idea. “Okay, kid, this is gonna seem weird, but let’s keep those breaths quick and short, okay?” And then the man was demonstrating, “He-he-he-he-hooo. He-he-he-he-hooo.” Mr. Stark squeezed Peter’s hand in assurance.

Peter tried to emulate him, and after a couple of minutes of lost rhythms and wiped away tears, Peter was calm enough that he felt safe speaking again, “Sorry, Mr. Stark, I...” He dried he cheeks again, “I don’t know where that came from. “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve had to have something fixed and all... I just...”

Mr. Stark smiled down fondly at the boy, “Maybe not, but you’re far from home and your hot aunt isn’t down the hall waiting to chew you out for doing something stupid enough to require surgery—and honestly, we’ve had a pretty shitty week, if you don’t mind my saying. I mean, I’ll be forever grateful that you’re back,” and Mr. Stark leaned over to plant a big ol’ kiss on Peter’s forehead as he said it, “but we fought a literal battle over my demolished compound, you were gone for five years, you were hurt, your powers are out of whack, you are currently situated on a different continent altogether, and the world doesn’t seem to remember that we deserve a little down time after battling for the fate of half a universe.” He ran his fingers through Peter’s hair. “We’re allowed to be stressed, and if it comes out in a pre-surgery freak-out, then so be it.”

Peter chuckled, being mindful of his ribs. “Yeah, I guess. And—um, thanks, by the way for the, uh... the breathing thing.” He was confused though, “Can I ask a dumb question? Was that a breathing exercise for women in labor?”

A blush tinged Mr. Stark’s cheeks and he rubbed at the back of his neck in apparent discomfort. “Yeah, Pete, it is, but it worked so no teasin’ the old man about it, got it?!” He pointed a finger at the boy in the bed. “You were hurting and I couldn’t think of anything to help with the broken ribs and all. Short breaths made sense and it just came to me.” He laughed low to himself, “I think it was pretty ingenious, if you ask me.”

Peter blushed, himself. “I guess it was. I’m curious to know how you’d know—“

A knock on the door interrupted his question. “Hello?” Dr. Cho opened the door and peeked her head into the room. “I’m sorry for intruding, but we’ve only got the surgical suite and staff for an allotted period of time and...“ She trailed off.

Mr. Stark looked at Peter, cocking an eyebrow in question.

Peter hesitated, then nodded ‘yes.’

Mr. Stark smiled at him then gave his still gripped hand another assuring squeeze. “He’s good to go, Helen.” He finally looked towards the doctor. “But you’ve got to hurry this up. The kid has a date with the #5—extra pickles and squished really flat, and we’d like to get that to him before someone in the kitchen realizes we’re hiding the best sandwich in Queens and absconds with it.” 

Peter snort-laughed then closed his eyes to the nurse as she re-entered the room to do her prep. He didn’t want to be rude, he just couldn’t...

Ah, shit! He knew it was coming before it hit, and then—

She waited patiently for him as the pain zinged up his spine, causing him to arch off the bed and whimper as he waited for the episode to pass. She simply stepped away from the bed so Mr. Stark could come close enough to whisper words of encouragement.

“You’ve got this, kid.”

“It’s gonna pass.”

“I’m so, so sorry...”

This episode lasted only a few minutes, but it left Peter exhausted, like always. After taking a second to pull himself together, he gave the nurse the go ahead with a nod and closed his eyes again—trying to ignore the sounds of movement and the poking and prodding at his foot.

“A little pinch.” The nurse whispered, and then there was more than a little pinch, but the second line was in. “Good job.” On what, he didn’t know, but it was done and Peter worked to keep himself from jumping off the table.

Dr. Cho came to his bedside again, “Well, Peter, I’m hoping that we can get everything sorted this last time and give your transformation a chance to finish the job without having to worry about all of this extra work.” She winked playfully at him. “And then I can start doing my regular job of putting you back together with all of the standard superhero stuff. Does that sound like a plan to you?”

He understood that she was trying to put him at ease, and it would have worked, but something was niggling at the back of his brain and he couldn’t understand what was going on. He ignored it. “Sure. Let’s do this,” he replied.

Giving a nod to the nurse on his opposite side, Dr. Cho released the break on his bed and they started moving him toward the door.

“Wait!” Peter shouted in renewed panic. “Mr. Stark?!”

He popped back into view, having kept out of the way as he was sorted. “I’m here, baby. You’re safe.” He bumped the nurse out of the way and took her place as they moved down the hallway.

He tried to look brave, but—“Could you...?”

Mr. Stark didn’t look to anyone for permission. He just answered. “I’ll go with you as far as I can, okay?”

Peter could have cried from relief, but remained strong as he nodded. “Okay. Yeah, okay.” He blinked away the moisture in his eyes and exhaled, “Uh, thanks.”

Mr. Stark ruffled his hair. “You never have to thank me, sweetheart. Do you understand?”

Peter smiled, tentative, “I guess?”

Mr. Stark huffed in frustration. “You guess? We’ll need to have a chat over that sandwich later, okay?”

By this point, they’d managed to find their way to the surgical suite. They parked the bed and Dr. Cho disappeared inside the room for a second.

Peter was about to ask if maybe she’d changed her mind about everything when she popped back out and tossed a surgical cap, mask, and gown at Mr. Stark. “Put that on, and then touch nothing, but Peter once we’re in. If you behave, you can stay with him until he’s asleep, okay?”

Mr. Stark nodded and immediately put on the gown while Dr. Cho entered the room again. He hesitated with the cap though. “No one appreciates the effort I make to look this good,” he complained. “Seriously.” He shook his head and looked down at Peter as he placed the mask on his face. “The things I do for you, kid.”  

Peter grinned at that, and for a moment he could imagine they were back in the lab at the compound and it was just the two of them being idiots while blowing crap up. “You do it because you love me,” he teased.

If they’d been back at the lab, Mr. Stark would have made a crack about doing this to keep Peter from turning to the dark side, or from working for the competition, or anything other than what he’d really said—“Yeah, kid. I really do.”

And THAT was the moment Peter realized that something had shifted in the five years. He’d heard the ‘sweetheart’ and maybe even the ‘baby’ but...

Another nurse came out of the room to address them. “Okay, we’re going in now. Once we enter the room, we’ll transfer you to a different gurney and tuck this bed away for you to use later. The room is sterile and will remain that way if everyone does what they’re supposed to do.” The nurse looked directly at Mr. Stark. “I am to remind you, sir, that you can ask Princess Shuri about the tech and sterilization methods later and that—and this is a quote from Dr. Cho—“you’d better be good, Tony, or you will be out on your ass faster than you can say ‘nanoparticle.’”

Mr. Stark barked a laugh at that and raised his right hand. “I promise I will be a good boy.”

The nurse seemed to believe him so they worked together to pull the bed through the doors and into the chill of the surgical suite. Peter would have been impressed if he wasn’t suddenly terrified.

Peter couldn’t suppress the shiver as he felt the cold press in on him and he thought again about running away—somewhere warm and vibrant and Mr. Stark could come and then—he was being transferred to a metal table, just as cold as the room.

Mr. Stark came into view again, and was again running fingers through his hair in comfort. His heart was in his throat and he couldn’t speak.

“You’ll feel a little chill here, Peter,” Dr. Cho was talking to him as someone off to the side started injecting an anaesthetic into the IV line.  

He felt it as it entered his system, the mix of standard and enhanced drugs because his body didn’t know what the heck it was doing anymore, and then whatever bits of Spider-Man that were fighting to come through did exactly that. Even as his thoughts tried to soften, he battled and ached to come back from the nothingness that was trying to catch hold of him again. His eyes flew open. He couldn’t go again! His drug weakened limbs felt weighted but still fought against gentle hands pressing him to the table, yet he tensed with anticipation of them flaking and floating off into the aether—“NO!” He couldn’t do it again, and his panic flared one last time as the anaesthetist gave one last push. “stop—“ he slurred. “don’—wanna go, ms’r star—“ Tears streamed down his temples and he finally gave up as he whispered, “’m—‘m sorry—“ 

Peter fell limp against the table—

And didn’t see Mr. Stark, as he stood over him, tried to comfort him—wept for him.

Peter also didn’t see the glare on Mr. Stark’s tear stained face as he looked at a paled Dr. Cho. “You get in. You fix it. You get out. Got it?”

Peter didn’t see her nod in agreement and start barking out orders to the medical staff in the room.

And Peter didn’t see Mr. Stark lean over to kiss his forehead and then step back into a quiet corner, deciding to not leave the boy’s side unless they dragged him forcibly from the room.

[labradorite-princess]

I agreed to go and now I am freaking out.

My therapist told me it's my family who needs to make it up me and not the other way around. And that I do not need to put up with their disrespect anymore. I can just walk away if they start any of their bullshit. But I'm still so scared. I feel like the sad little girl who was mistreated all those years and spent nights crying in her room alone.

I agreed to go bc I want to show support for my cousin and his future wife. He's been nothing but nice to me my whole life. I've never had any issues with him. The issues are with most of my aunts and uncles and my older cousins. I want him to know I'm happy for him. And I want his future wife to know I'm on her side. My dad's side of the family can be summed up as "we're better than you because we're Catholic and we will look down on you because of this." I'm worried how the rest of the family will treat her. My mom made sure my sister and I weren't raised that way. But all my other family was raised believing this garbage. Also, for some reason, my dad's side of the family HATES fat ppl. More than the gays. Which says a lot bc Catholics. And my cousin's future wife is "heavy" according to my cousin's mom. Who has expressed her dislike of her (cousin's future wife) to my mom because for that reason. She (my aunt - cousin's mom) never said anything bad about my cousin's future wife other than her weight. As one of the few fat members of the family I want her to know she's not alone. Bc my family will comment on her weight to her. I want to tell her how pretty she looks. I want to make her feel confident bc she deserves to feel that way on her special day.

She's marrying a great man. I want my cousin and his future wife to have a wonderful day. I've never met her but she can't be anything but amazing if she caused my cousin to fall in love with her.

My cousin even reached out to my sister to say he hopes I can come. I never thought any of them would miss me. One of the issues I've had with my dad's side of the family was the constant comparison to my cousin who is 6 months older than me (not the cousin getting married). I was always second best. Never the center of attention. Everyone would pay attention to her and not me. And her parents had to make it so she was better at everything than me. I remember when my Grandpa was in the hospital and my uncle made a big deal about my cousin being in advanced classes and having a 2.5 GPA. I just mentioned I was also in advanced classes and had a 3.8 GPA. We went to different high schools. (My choice. I could have gone to the same school as her but I didn't want too). My uncle had to ask my older cousin (not the one getting married) who is a teacher which school had "the better" advanced classes.

I haven't been to a family gathering on my dad's side of the family in like 7/8 years maybe longer. I've seen a few family members throughout the years but not many and never all of them at once. My dad's side of the family is v large. My dad is 1 of 9. All but 2 had at least 1 child. Most had more. And I'm one of the youngest. So my older cousin's have been having kids. There's an insane amount of us. I'm worried about seeing all of them again. What will I tell them? The truth? That most of you and their parents caused me an insane amount of childhood trauma? That you caused me to have eating disorders? That you caused me to start self harming? That I think some of you hid the fact my dad was cheating on my mom from her? That I hate you bc you encouraged my dad to drink and just pretended my mom no longer existed after my dad left her 6 months after she had a massive heart attack and died 6 times on the operating table? She was still recovering! She had to relearn how to walk! It's a mircale she survived let alone didn't have any brain damage! How do you think I'm not mad at you for telling my dad to put her in a nursing home while she was having her first surgery? You guys had no idea what was going on! And were already planning on getting rid of her! How can I not hate you for not even asking my sister and I if we were doing okat after my dad moved out? We would have told you our mom spent all her time crying and threating to kill herself! We had no money! Our mom was only working part time at the time my dad left! You discarded us like you discarded our mom! I can't tell them all that. Not at my cousin's wedding at least. It's a happy event. Idk what to do.

I’m being guilt tripped into going to a wedding.

[missfay49]

Just Listen

Summary: The fam-ILY gets together for a Christmas celebration.  

Warnings: Logan and Virgil get in a fight but they make up, obligatory interaction with relatives, alcohol, food, Christmas, cursing, countdown, mention of past injury, struggling with recent hearing loss

Word Count: ~3000 

Oldest to Youngest: Logan/Remus/Roman/Janus/Virgil/Patton/Alec

Other Characters: Aunt Patty and Uncle Mitch, Aunt Mel and Uncle Jim, Titi, Grandma Sanders, Grandpa Sanders, Maman, Nico Flores

DD:HH:MM:SS - Days : Hours : Minutes : Seconds

AO3

Once upon a time, there were seven cousins born of four siblings.  The oldest sister and her husband had twins and named them Roman and Remus.  The second oldest sister and her partners had a child and named him Alec.  The youngest sister had one child and named him Patton.  And their brother, the youngest of them all, had three children named Logan, Janus, and Virgil.  

00:16:02:32 until Christmas Day, 7:58 AM

Logan, the oldest cousin, was leaning against the kitchen counter holding a fresh cup of coffee in one hand and rubbing his right temple with the other.  He blinked against the early morning sun of Christmas Eve streaming in.  

“You’re up early!”

Logan jumped at the movement to his right and found his aunt looking at him. 

“Good morning, Aunt Mel.  I made coffee.”

“Bless ya, kid,” she said, turning toward the machine.  When she came back around to grab the sugar, he was gone.

00:13:25:17 until Christmas Day, 10:35 AM

“Who took the last piece of bacon?!”  

Roman froze in his spot on the floor in front of the T.V.  If he were just very, very still, maybe-

“J’accuse!”  Remus shouted from the kitchen door over the sounds of chatter and clinking kitchenware.  Roman spun around to see Remus pointing at him menacingly.

“You already had some!”  Roman yelled back, pulling his plate close.  Remus, not breaking eye contact even once, methodically kicked off his flip flops and set his plate gently on top of a bookshelf.  He crouched a little and rolled his shoulders.

“Remus, no, my juice, Remus!  NOOO-”

00:13:23:03 until Christmas Day, 10:37 AM

From his cozy spot beneath the sheets in the spare bedroom, Virgil heard a scream and a thump.  And then several more thumps.  He blinked and stretched, smooshing his face into the pillow.  For one precious moment, he imagined he could go back to sleep but the dream was pierced by Aunt Patty’s shrill voice scolding someone down the hall.  

He shoved himself up on his elbows and sent a hostile glare at the general brightness of the room.  Things quieted down but it was too late - he was up.  He stretched for several more minutes before finally straightening his clothes and stumbling out to follow the smell of breakfast.

00:12:40:54 until Christmas Day, 11:20 AM

Virgil shuffled past the subdued twins in the living room and into the kitchen, stopping at the door as his brain tried to process what was happening.  His younger cousin, Patton, was furtively opening and closing all the cabinets, searching each and every one.  Apparently he found what he was looking for, because he started chuckling to himself and reached behind some cups to pull out a huge plastic bag of cookies.  He opened it and spun around on his socks, walking headlong into Virgil.

“Ah!”  Patton nearly dropped the bag, and a couple cookies fell out onto the floor.  Virgil laughed as they picked them up together.

“Whatcha doing, Pat?”

Patton waved him close, whispering.  

“My mom keeps hiding the cookies.  She said if I keep eating ‘em she’s gonna have to make more for tomorrow.  That sounds like a win-win to me!”  He took the floor cookie from Virgil and pocketed it.  They took turns peering into the dining room where the older folks were talking.

“You do you, cuz.”  They bumped fists and Virgil scooped some cold leftover eggs onto a paper plate to take with him to the living room.  Remus shoved past him coming back into the kitchen.  

Whatever Remus had planned to do in here was lost when he spotted Pat.

“Oo!  Cookies!”

00:11:22:49 until Christmas Day, 12:38 PM

“What exactly are we watching, Roman?” asked Patton, popping a couple Tums into his mouth and flopping down into a recliner.  Roman was still planted in the middle of the living room floor, but now Virgil was keeping him company, fast asleep on the couch with an empty plate in his lap.  Roman didn’t look away from the screen.

“A Christmas Prince.  It’s about a journalist that falls in love with the prince of a whole Christmas-themed country!  And the bad guy’s not too bad lookin’ either.”  Roman squeezed a pillow to his chest.

“Oh, right, I thought it looked familiar!  Did you watch Jenny Nicholson’s breakdown of it?”

“Who?”

Patton smiled at the look of wonder on Roman’s face as he followed the characters on screen.  At the silence, Roman turned around to look at him, distracted but curious.  Patton waved him off.  

“Never mind.”  Better not to spoil it.

00:07:12:24 until Christmas Day, 16:47 PM

“Dinner tiiime!”  Aunt Patty peeked into the living room.  “It’s all ready, you guys hungry?”

“Yisss!”  Patton launched himself out of the recliner with Virgil following slowly behind.  Roman tore his eyes away from the current Hallmark movie with great effort, checking his phone messages.

Aunt Mel was in the kitchen with their little cousin Alec.  Just as they passed through he let up a screech, making them all jump.  Roman’s phone went flying.

“AAAAA DON’T WANNA WASH I’M STILL PLAYING!”

“AH, sweet Jesus,” Roman clutched his chest dramatically as the rest started laughing.

“Alright, keep it together, ya hooligans,” Aunt Mel teased them.  “Alec, I’ve had too much wine today for you to be screaming at the water.  You told me yesterday you love playing with the water-”

Auntie continued to help Alec wash his hands and the cousins tumbled into the dining room where Logan and the grandparents were already gathering.  Logan braced at the incoming chaos.  

“What happened to you?”  He asked them.

“Didn’t you hear Alec screaming?”  Virgil deadpanned.

“Oh,” Logan straightened his glasses.  “Yes, that.”

The rest of the family came up from the basement talking heatedly about the Saints and the Vikings.  Who was winning or losing at that particular moment was unclear, but dinner would proceed regardless. 

00:04:47:19 until Christmas Day, 19:13 PM

“Defuse!”  Remus slammed a card down onto the table.  “Whew, that was close.  I almost exploded in a fiery, kitten-y death!”

“Boom!” Alec cheered.  Nearly the whole family was gathered around the kitchen-table-turned-game-table, even the grandparents and great grandma, Maman.  Aunt Patty and Uncle Mitch were downstairs watching the end of the football game, and Titi was just a few feet away putting a new batch of sugar cookies in the oven.  She shot a good-natured stare at Patton.  

“Sorry, mooom,” “Sorry, Titiii” he and Remus chorused.  “Patton tricked me!”

“Hey!”

“That’s okay, you two can help me decorate these later as punishment.  Remus,” Titi pointed to the person beside him. “Help Maman with her turn, remember?”

“Oh, yeah!”  Remus leaned over the centenarian.  “You got any actions, Maman?”

“Quel est ce dessin?”  She held her cards up to him and pointed.

“That’s a cat dressed as a taco, Maman.  C’est un mème.”

While the game continued around the table, Virgil watched Logan discreetly.  Sitting to his left, something was wrong with his oldest brother.  He wasn’t sure what yet, but it was definitely… something.

“Nope!”  Logan put a card down over Uncle Jim’s attack.  Aunt Mel went next, then she helped Alec with his turn, and then, there it was; Logan’s brow furrowed ever so slightly.  His eyes flitted back and forth between the players and the cards.  He stared at their faces, but not quite at eye level.  Patton’s, Roman’s, Grandma’s turns all passed the same - he was concentrating so hard.  Why?

“Virgil?”  Grandpa nudged him out of his speculation.  “It’s your turn.”

Logan was staring at him expectantly.  

“Oh.”  Virgil glanced at two mismatched cats and drew.  An exploding kitten.  He was dead.  “You’re turn, Lo.”

Logan spent a second longer waiting to see if Virgil was done, and then played his own cards.  As they both watched Remus go next, Virgil leaned in closer.

“What is up with you?”  He whispered.  Logan didn’t take his eyes off Remus’ cards.

“Hey!”  He kept whispering, jabbing Logan in the ribs.

“Ow!”  Logan yelped, then lowering his voice.  “What?”

“I asked you a question, don’t act like you can’t hear me.”  

Logan squinted at him, then his face shifted.  He looked stricken.  

“I’m playing “See The Future”,” someone said.  “Hand me the deck.”

00:04:22:44 until Christmas Day, 19:38 PM

VIRGE: what happened?

A new round had started and Virgil hoped that switching to text would let them continue their argu- debate without distracting the rest of the family.

BIG BRO: Nothing

VIRGE: bullshit

Logan ignored his phone, watching the game progress counter-clockwise this time.  Virgil did not accept this strategy.

VIRGE: !

VIRGE: !

VIRGE: !

VIRGE: !

VIRGE: !

VIRGE: !

BIG BRO: Stop

VIRGE: tell the truth.  

BIG BRO: (Seen)

They paused to take their turns, and when Virgil picked his phone back up, Logan was already typing.  He tried to be patient, but the energy was clear in the way his foot tapped the ground.

BIG BRO: It seems my hearing has not entirely recovered since that explosion during chem lab a couple months ago.  I’ve got tinnitus in my right ear.  It is quite difficult to pick up sounds over the ringing when they’re coming from that direction.  

BIG BRO: Or sometimes from any direction.  So, I’m concentrating a little more.  That’s all.  

Virgil glanced between the texts and Logan several times, Logan staring with seemingly great intent at his cards.  

VIRGE: THATS ALL?

BIG BRO: Calm down, it’s not a big deal.

VIRGE: have you been to a doctor?

Logan stopped to play another “Nope” card.  Virgil was ready to scream at the delay.  The chatter at the table seemed louder to him now and much, much different.

BIG BRO: Yes.  And I’ve done plenty of my own research.  There’s not much to be done unless I want to get surgery or start wearing hearing aids.

VIRGE: so wear hearing aids until you decide about the surgery

BIG BRO: They’re expensive, Virgil.

VIRGE: dads insrance must cover some of it and ive got some extra money

BIG BRO: No.  Thank you.  That money’s yours.  You worked hard for it.  

VIRGE: your e taking it

BIG BRO: That’s not the problem.

VIRGE: then what is.?

BIG BRO: (Seen)

VIRGE: why won’t you make it easier on yourself?  you know none of us will care if you wear one.  the explosion wasn’t even your fault, it was that other kid

Virgil sent the text and looked at Logan, waiting.  Remus was nearly finished with his turn; Logan was next.  The turns passed, but Logan didn’t pick his phone back up from the table.

VIRGE: why

Logan glanced at the text preview when it came up on the screen, still not moving.

VIRGE: i know you can see this

VIRGE: why

VIRGE: why

VIRGE: why

“Because!”  Logan shouted, slapping his cards down.  Everyone fell into a stunned quiet.

“Are you guys cheating?  Mom says cheating is wrong.”  Alec’s voice broke the silence a second later.  Virgil stuck his tongue out at him.

“I assure you we are not cheating,” Logan smiled at Alec.  “Virgil’s just being a pest.”

The game resumed, Patton taking an absurd amount of actions before drawing another Beard Cat card.  Was it even legal to have that many cards?

Virgil leaned back in his chair, tired from the stress.  His phone buzzed.

BIG BRO: This is my last semester.  I’ll get one after graduation.

00:00:41:12 until Christmas Day, 23:19 PM

Roman carried two mugs of coffee into the living room as back-to-back commercials for 24 Hours of A Christmas Story played on the T.V.  He handed one to Virgil and got back under the throw blanket.

“Thanks.”

“Whatcha doing?”  Roman peered at Virgil’s laptop.  There were at least a dozen tabs open.  The current screen showed some kind of fancy earpods.  

“Just killin’ time.”  Virgil opened yet another tab.

“Yeah, it’s a bummer Janus picked a college so far away.  But the train’s due in a few minutes!  Then it’ll be officially Christmas.”  

“I mean, he still has to, like, get here from the station.” 

“Whatever,” shrugged Roman.  He flipped through the channels.  All commercials.  He settled back on the Hallmark channel, laying down and closing his eyes while they waited for the latest must-have-product ads to end.

“Remember when we played dress up together?”  Roman mused.  “Mom taped all those toilet paper rolls together so we could have swords and we all fought over the two paper crowns from Burger King?  Do they still make those?”

“I have no idea,” Virgil laughed.  “That was so long ago, how do you even remember that?”

“Because I was a fabulous ruler!  The kingdom prospered unendingly under my leadership!”  Roman flung his free arm wide, not bothering to open his eyes.  “It was glorious!”

“All you did was declare free love-”

“An important doctrine!”  Roman jabbed at the air once before letting his arm flop back down and graze the carpet.  “All Janus did was universally pardon thieves and liars, was that so much better?”

“Well, I was playing a thief.  Maybe I’m biased.”

“You would…” Roman muttered.  He didn’t finish the thought.

“Roman?”

 A little snort was the only response.  Roman was fast asleep, coffee untouched and the remote resting by his head.

00:00:00:03 until Christmas Day, 23:59 PM

00:00:00:02...

00:00:00:01...

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Virgil was stirring; he snuck like a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

in hopes that his brother soon would be there.

Christmas Day, 01:23 AM

“Wake up!” 

Roman gasped.  Someone was shoving him into the couch cushions.

“He’s here!”  Virgil bounced on his shoulder again, almost knocking the laptop to the ground.  

“Okay!  Jeez, I’m up.  I’m up!”

Virgil was already gone, shoving his boots on while a taxi drove away outside leaving two figures in the darkness with their bags.  By the time Roman was on his feet, Janus was shouldering through the door with a backpack and giant suitcase, a cute boy following just behind. 

“What is up, king?”  Roman and Janus clasped hands and half hugged.  “Who’s this?”

“Oh, you know.”  Janus shrugged off the bag.  “This is my boyfriend.  Nico, this is my cousin, Roman.”

Nico stifled a yawn and waved.  “Pleasure to meet you, Roman!”  Virgil came in setting down two more bags and nudged Janus.

“I thought we all agreed not to bring dates again after what happened last-”

“Oh, sweetheart, you must be exhausted!”  Roman interrupted as he picked up one of the bags.  “I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.”  

“Thank you so much, our stuff took forever to load off the train.”  Nico started to follow him.  

“Hands to yourself, Ro,” Janus hissed after them.  “I like this one.”  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roman grinned, disappearing around the corner into the hallway.  Nico hesitated.

“What…?”  

Janus waved him off.  “I’ll tell you later.”  When they were both out of sight, he turned to Virgil.  

“It looks like half the county’s parked in our front yard.  Is dad up?”

“He didn’t stay.”  Virgil shrugged.  “He got into a fight with Titi last night and left after an hour.”

“I see…” Janus sighed, looking down the hall for a moment.  “Can’t break tradition now, can we?”  He smiled up at his little brother.  “Did you get taller?”

Virgil answered by way of a bear-hug, squeezing the breath out of him.

“I missed you, too, Virge.” 

Christmas Day, morning-ish

“Merci, Maman!  Thank you!”  Everyone spoke over each other, unwrapping the sweaters she had made for each of them.  

“Yellow was very, uh, popular this year, no?”  She teased them.  “I hope that you like them.”

“Mine does not have yellow, it’s gold.”  Roman corrected everyone.  Aunt Patty scolded him.  Janus laughed.  

“Don’t complain, Roman, yellow is just the superior color,” said Janus, wrestling his own sweater on.

“Yours is more black than yellow!”  Roman pointed out.  Janus’ head popped up through the collar.

“Did I say yellow?  I meant ‘black’.  Black is the superior color.”

“Black’s not even a color,” Roman called after Janus shimmying away to grab a cookie with Nico in the kitchen.  He came back a second later.

“Why does this cookie look like it’s frosted with vomit?”  Janus held one up, looking affronted.

“Don’t suppress my creativity!”  Remus shouted from under the tree.

Christmas Day, sometime, who cares anymore?

Logan stood in the hallway, reading an email from Virgil, sent at three that morning.  It was lists of hearing aids, their pros and cons, and prices.  And another email from Janus a few minutes ago with links on how to get disability funding.  That would explain Virgil’s note at the end...

I love you.  Please don’t be mad.  I told Janus.

He rubbed a hand over his face and chuckled.  Had he really thought he was going to keep this a secret for even a day around those two?  He pocketed the phone for now and walked through the house.  

There was Patton and Roman watching a girl in a beret talk on youtube.  Roman had a horrified look on his face.  Janus was in the kitchen teaching Alec how to play chess, and not going easy on the kid at all.  Logan peeked downstairs.  There were Virgil and Remus and Nico, playing charades with the aunties.  Remus was making some obscene gesture that had Aunt Mel on the floor laughing and spilling her wine, and Aunt Patty was yelling at both of them.

Logan wandered to the couch and plopped down.  It’s a Wonderful Life, was playing on the television.  Logan hummed along with the closed captioning as the characters celebrated saving George Bailey from false charges.  The vibrations in his chest felt right.

For auld lang syne, my dear

For auld lang syne

We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet

For days of auld lang syne

~

The End.

@sanderssidesgiftxchange @kieraelieson

[yggdrasil-mith0s]

Who am I kidding. I would be happy with one remake. If I could only choose one, though, it would be Tales of Destiny. I've explained it before but I have gotten new followers so I'll explain why Tales of Destiny is my favorite. I do have some Trigger warnings, though, since it is a part of my story. TWs: Cancer, Death.

Destiny is what started it all for me. I have talked about this before but when my dad got really sick with cancer, we sent him to Philadelphia for treatment (where my family is from as well as better hospitals and cancer ward). Mom and Dad had divorced 2 years prior but mom let us have as much time with him as possible while he was sick. But after he got to Philly and had surgery, we found out that it grew and spread to other parts of the brain (glioblastoma, a type of brain cancer is what he had). No more surgeries. They just kept him as comfortable as possible and let him recover in the hospital from the surgery. So my mom knew I was going to need a distraction. She let me pick out a game and for whatever reason, I picked Tales of Destiny. I played it constantly before we flew to Philly and right when we got there. I had the new PS1 with the LCD screen and an adapter so I could play it in cars and anywhere with a plug in. So I remember playing it on the way to the hospital. This is my first real RPG besides a select few but this is the first one I owned and actually knew everything going on while playing. I loved every second of gameplay. I remember seeing my dad in the hospital and he was so bad he couldn't talk or move at this point. I tried telling him I bowled a 165 (at my age that's amazing and he loved bowling. He got a 299 once). I ended up crying and left without saying anything beyond that. My aunt took me to the car and all I wanted to do was escape reality so I played Destiny. It helped relax me and calm down. It took me away from the painful feeling. Fast forward. He got sent home about 3 days later on Hospice and 3 more days later he died. We flew back up for the funeral. I had been playing Destiny but hadn't finished the game yet because I'm little and some parts took a while to figure out as well as school and other things. Destiny calmed me down everytime I started to cry or have an anxiety attack thinking about my dad the whole time. We get to the funeral service and my mom left the rental van on cause I couldn't save the game. I was in battle. The service happens and I want to cry but I am also ready to escape with Destiny. On the way to the funeral site to lay him to rest, I did it. I beat Tales of Destiny. The complete end finished as we pulled up. I got out and on the ground was this beautiful, gold feather. I never seen a golden feather and I still havent. I picked it up, feeling accomplished I beat Tales of Destiny, my first RPG. I whispered to my dad (his spirit I suppose), "I beat it, dad." I laid the feather on his casket along with the flower they gave family to do that, just before we left. So I get back in the car, smiled because I knew he would be proud I beat it without help and on my own (he loved games and RPGs). I turn on the PS1 and started a new game. I played through Destiny again 2 more times in a row. It got me through a really dark time. A time that really couldve been way worse without Tales of Destiny. It took me out of reality and the pain and put me in a place of joy, intrigue, and fun. Reality existed still, of course, and I still dealt with emotions and my dad's death the way any kid my age would.... but I couldn't have done it without Tales of Destiny.

That is why Tales of Destiny is my favorite. I also picked it back up every time I felt long or depressed through the years until I finally met a friend that had just bought Tales of Symphonia. I met another Tales fan. I met a friend. I invited him over and we played for over 12 hours straight and beat the game with one hour break to go get pizza from Pappa John's lol. But I wouldn't have met my best friend for the next few years if it wasnt for Destiny.

Even today it gets me through really depressing times. That is why I love Destiny so much and it's my favorite. It introduces me to the series. The story was awesome. I really loved Stahn Aileron as a protagonist. He had me laughing and interested when he got serious. Also I loved Mary Argent and her story. I related to her personality. Rutee Katrea was fun and cool. She was tough and I wanted to be tough just like her. Leon Magnus was cool. The kind of cool that everyone likes. I didnt care about that so much tbh. But I did think he was cool lol. Phillia Felice was so cute. I love how she cared about everyone. She said some seriously empathetic stuff that really resonated with me. I truly felt how she did so I loved her character. Garr Kelvin was a great friend to Stahn. The type of friend I always wanted. I eventually found that type of friend. He and I played Tales of Symphonia for hours the first time we hung out outside of school. I love the series. But Destiny is where it began with an amazing story and cast.

[scum-belina]

Sometimes I check on my mom's fb bc she doesn't use it anymore but wants to know if anything important has happened to either side of the family, and sometimes I see my granny or paternal aunt post things about my dad and act all mournful and loving while I'm just like......no one hated my father more than I did, yet I still visited him when he was recovering from brain surgery, chemo, and ultimately hospice more than either of those cunts did. My granny would just sit out in the car and smoke and pop hydrocodone instead of stay and visit with her son.

My aunt would only visit him once a week and stay only 15 minutes. Yet they act like they're martyrs and I'm an unholy demon for not viewing my dad as a saint before or after he died. You just can't win with some people in your life. They both still trigger me quite a bit, but I've learned that they're the really sad and pathetic ones I this, not me. At least I'm trying to heal from all my issues, but they won't even look theirs in the eye and take it out on everyone else. They live very pitiful and lonely lives because of it. I don't intend to do the same.

[angry-slytherin]

I Don’t Need Much Saving(But You’re Gonna Heal My Wounds)

[T, Dousy, 917 words, Chapter 1/1]

Daniel was looking for a nurse, but maybe he got more than he bargained for.

[Written for AOS AU August: Day 5]

READ ON AO3

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“Excuse me? Miss, are you a doctor?” Daisy whips her head to the left, following the voice coming from room 248.

“Sorry, no. I’m from the IT department. But I can get a doctor if you want,” Daisy smiles kindly. The man shakes his head, smiling back. Daisy is taken aback for a moment. Happy moments are frequent in this building, but not happy people.

“That’s alright. I was just- ah nevermind. I probably shouldn’t keep you.”

Daisy finds herself weirdly averted to leaving. “I can stay. I have time,” she shrugs, then holds out her hand. “I’m Daisy, by the way.”

“Daniel,” the man shakes her hand. “I know you’re wondering why I’m here. I mean you’re obviously working. Me, I’m the guy in the hospital bed.” Daisy takes a seat at the foot of his bed. “Car accident,” he meets her eyes, “just needed a little bit of brain surgery.”

Daisy laughs jovially, “I’ve been working here a long time. I’m no surgeon, but I know that brain surgery is never little.” She grins at the bandage wrapped around his head.

“Well I’ve been through worse,” he says it tightly, like he wants to share but can’t tell if he should. She nods, letting him know it’s okay.

“Lost my leg in combat. Pretty nasty send off for a limb, but I make due. I have an excellent prosthetic,” his lips quirk slightly.

“You served?”

“Only one tour. I’m on full disability now. Funny, I don’t feel disabled. I just feel like I have a fake leg,” his small smile appears again. Daisy feels her chest blossom.

“I was an army tech. For three years. I grew up in the foster system, and at the time I thought it was my only escape.”

“Wow. And was it?” Daniel asks.

Daisy’s face contorts with confusion, “Was it what?”

“An escape. From the life you thought you couldn’t get out of.”

Daisy smiles, then lets out an awkward sigh. “Mostly it just gave me some serious PTSD. But I found my family there. So...I guess it was.”

Daniel nods, “I’m glad. So how did you get into working IT for a hospital then?”

“My- this guy who is basically my dad helped me find a job after I left the service. I had the skills with computers, so here I am.”

“Here you are. Wasting your precious time on some guy who had brain surgery.”

“I don’t think I’m wasting my time. I’m where I want to be,” Daisy pats the bed.

“Sure,” Daniel scoffs.

“I mean it. I’m not just entertaining a recovering man for fun. I mean maybe a little, but you seem...nice. Anyways, what do you do now? You know, normally, when you aren’t having brain surgery or crashing your car.”

“For the record, my car was crashed into, and I’ve already had brain surgery. But usually, I play middleman in the governor's office. You know, helping solve great big issues like who should’ve picked up what litter. The boring stuff all goes to court, anyways,” he winks.

Daisy laughs, “Hey, that’s kinda neat. I fix computers which tell you how close or far someone is to failing health everyday so...I’d say litter might win.”

“Ooh,” Daniel mock hisses, “yeah, litter wins.”

“Has your family visited you at all?”

“No family. No siblings, my parents are dead, and no cousins or aunts or uncles or anything. No one from the military ever stuck. My therapist called those friendships ‘trauma bonds’.”

“I think I might have had a few of those too. So no one at all?”

“No. I had an ex who I was friends with, but she moved once the man who is the love of her life came back after being declared M.I.A. I’m happy for her.”

“You should have someone by your side.”

“Well, I’ve got you now.”

“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere,” Daisy smiles. She can tell he’s the kind of guy who usually does this for other people. She finds herself wanting to be his person, his support system.

So naturally Daisy finds herself spending more and more time by Daniel Sousa’s side for the next week as he continues to recover. It’s a Thursday, when he’s discharged.

“You’re going home?” Daisy leans against the doorframe. Daniel looks up from where he is zippering his bag.

“Brain’s all healed. You look like you are too,” he nods to her jacket and purse in her arms.

“Yeah. Just about. Want a ride? Might be better than a taxi for your first trip out.”

“That would be great, thanks.”

Daisy and Daniel finish collecting his limited belongings from his hospital room, and eventually make their way to Daisy’s car.

“Ready?” Daisy quirks an eyebrow. Daniel hesitated for a moment, before slipping into the car. Daisy follows in suit.

After they get on the road, Daisy’s anxiety levels rise. She begins tapping a finger against the steering wheel.

“Everything okay?” Daniel asks.

Daisy shrugs, “Are we still going to talk? I mean now that you no longer need a bedside company?”

Daniel sighs, then laughs wholly.

“Daisy Johnson, you are not getting rid of me.” And thank god for red lights, because Daisy takes her eyes way off the road, and kisses Daniel Sousa.

“That was nice,” she smiles as she pulls away. He says nothing, just smiles back.

“I think we’re still gonna talk,” Daisy says slyly as she turns her attention back to the road.

[tagsecretsanta]

From Gumnut

to @scattergraph

I don’t own this, full credit to the author above

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Prologue: ‘Twas the week before Christmas

Author: Gumnut

8 Dec 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 1437 

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Minor various ships, mostly background.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos we haven’t seen it yet.

Author’s note: This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic and it is a big one ::headdesk:: I hope you enjoy it. I know I have thoroughly enjoyed researching a gorgeous corner of this planet. 

My prompts were:

TAG Christmas pudding contest, points awarded for taste, originality and flammability.

“I don’t care if it’s Christmas…you ARE NOT bringing THAT back to the Island!”

Driving home for Christmas.

I’ll let you work out which I managed to include in this :D

Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for cheering me on and their wonderful support through this craziness. And to @onereyofstarlight for geeking out with me over the setting.

And as always, thank you all for creating such a fantastic fandom. Thundernerds rock! I hope you all have a wonderful festive season. Thank you all so much for everything.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

Looking back, it really could have happened to any of them. Hell, now it had happened once, it was even more likely it could happen to any of the rest of them, but of course it had to be Virgil and, of course, it had to happen a week before Christmas.

Fortunately, not only Gordon and Alan, but also John was aboard Thunderbird Two when her pilot folded in half with a groan. The great green behemoth responded to his touch and for a second there, the whole ship tipped sideways.

Alan lost his hard-earned sandwich, and Gordon, who had been half asleep in the co-pilot’s chair, despite the coffee he had consumed not five minutes ago, received an adrenalin spike that was well used in the next half an hour or so.

It had been a hard week. Australia was on fire. Every year the drought dried continent suffered and every year International Rescue did all it could to help. Brains had even designed some specialised equipment, deployed through Tracy Industries to help dampen the eucalypt fuel load, but the change of climate over the last hundred odd years had done its damage and the ecosystem suffered for it.

It was painful to watch.

And tiring to fight.

John had taken to coming down not only for Christmas, but for the fires. He had developed a communications network, tied into TB5, to help coordinate the fire services of the country and pin point the hot spots. At the end of the last outbreak, Gordon had been gobsmacked to find his usually reclusive brother sprawled in a chair beside the Australian Fire Defense Network chief, beer in hand, swapping stories.

It had helped that the chief was the middle of five himself and a communications specialist pushed into management. There was much commiseration.

But none of the past really foretold this little hiccup.

Later when Gordon referred to said incident as a ‘hiccup’, Virgil’s eyebrows had frowned so much, they’d physically climbed off his head and slapped Gordon around his.

Or it could have been Virgil’s hand. Gordon was too busy ducking to really identity the body parts his brother was using.

So, with three brothers aboard, Virgil had plenty of back up.

Gordon was fully awake and stabilising Two before he had even had a chance to draw in a breath. They were halfway across the Tasman Sea, finally on the way home for a well-deserved break.

“Virgil?” John was out of his seat and moving towards the pilot.

“Uh, I’m okay.” The man straightened, still in his silver firefighting suit, minus the helmet. A quick look in his brother’s direction and Gordon could see it was all a lie. Even through the soot on Virgil’s face, his brother’s complexion was pale, almost green. “Just a stitch.”

“Doesn’t look like one from here, bro.” Gordon frowned as John gently nudged Virgil back in his seat. The pilot closed his eyes and lay back, his shoulders dropping just a little. John reached over to the console and flicked a couple of switches. Virgil’s vitals sprang up in all their holographic glory.

Even Gordon could see something was seriously wrong. “You have a fever. What the hell, Virg?”

His brother stared at his stats and frowned. “Just thought I was hot.”

No surprise considering the conditions they were working in.

John sighed. “Your suit has active refrigeration, Virgil, you know that. You should be the coolest of all of us.”

If it had been a different situation, Gordon would have then started a ‘discussion’ on who exactly was the coolest or the hottest of the brothers. As it was, another groan from his engineer brother killed all conversation other than medical concern.

“What is it?” John disengaged Virgil’s seat from the dash, pulling it back and giving him access to his older brother.

“My side.” Virgil’s eyes were squeezed shut.

His lower right side.

Five minutes later and Gordon was beelining Two to the nearest hospital, which turned out to be Auckland near the northern tip of New Zealand.

Less than an hour later, Virgil had his very angry appendix removed.

Of all things.

For the past three days, it had been a mixture of firefly pod and fire exo-suit. His brother had been tossing about massive hoses, shifting huge amounts of timber, excavating firebreaks and water bombing from Two.

Apparently, all while suffering from appendicitis.

When Scott arrived on scene, he was a walking facepalm.

When Virgil woke up, it was all kind words for the first hour or so while he recovered from the anaesthetic, but after that, the tongue lashing Scott delivered was enough to strip the paint off the walls of Virgil’s hospital room.

Grandma ended up dragging the man from the room.

Everyone was quiet after that.

No one liked it when Scott got scared.

Least of all Scott.

But even Gordon had to agree that his eldest brother had a point. Appendicitis wasn’t something that didn’t come with symptoms. Virgil admitted that he had noted some pain, but he had been busy. There had been more important things.

Scott’s response to that was only suitable for mature audiences.

Gordon couldn’t help but agree after having to watch his brother writhe in pain on one of his own hover stretchers while they had been on approach to Auckland.

But it had happened when it had happened and everyone was safe, Virgil included. There were much worse scenarios available considering their occupations and the entire family was grateful it had turned out best it could.

Scott was still livid, though, likely because the man was exhausted. They were all exhausted.

Grandma eyed all of them in turn, cornering each of them in their hotel rooms. It didn’t take her more than half a day to conclude that International Rescue needed a well-earned break. Virgil’s illness made a great excuse and her meeting with Scott was short, sharp and to the point.

The Commander of International Rescue contacted the GDF not long after, advising their aunt that their organisation would not be available for the next week. Eos was tasked with redirecting emergency calls after Grandma grabbed John by the scruff of his neck and with an equally sharp word in his ear, grounded the spaceman beside his brothers.

Virgil received a few glares, but the tired man just rolled over awkwardly and went back to sleep. Apparently, he agreed with Grandma.

Always did, the big Grandma softie.

Except perhaps with her cooking, but that led Virgil to being the biggest victim in that department because despite his incapacity to lie, he would do anything for the woman.

Virgil was released from the hospital a day after his surgery and they helped him back to their hotel rooms and set him up with the holoprojector and an appropriate stash of snacks and engineering journals. Kayo even bought him a sketchbook and an array of art materials.

For two days, the brothers hung out with him or darted out to the shops for convenience’s sake. Copious amounts of takeout were consumed, a treat they were often denied on the Island. But ultimately five usually very active men got very bored very quickly.

They couldn’t go home, because Virgil wasn’t allowed to fly. His operation excluded air travel for at least seven days, which meant, to add insult to injury, they would be stuck on the mainland for Christmas Day.

Their first Christmas off in who knew how many years, and they couldn’t even share it at home.

John distracted himself by linking in with Eos and helping out with emergency calls...until Grandma discovered him and rounded on both him and Eos with the ire Scott had managed to inherit.

Both father and daughter behaved after that, Eos a little stunned at the power of the eldest Tracy.

Alan dove into his computer games and hermitized. Gordon could only swim so much, so resorted to pranking Alan, which ended up in the brawl of the century and half the penthouse draped in toilet paper.

Scott turned to Tracy Industries and began phone calls that lasted hours. Virgil sent Gordon to chase him down.

Scott quite frankly ignored him, which led to Virgil hauling himself off the couch and doing the chasing himself.

That led to a screaming match that ended with both men pale when Virgil twisted angrily and groaned as he pulled at his stitches.

The atmosphere plummeted after that and the whole penthouse floor deteriorated into a sullen gloom.

It was shaping up to be an ass of a Christmas.

Until Gordon had an idea.

[thesoundofnat]

Still fixing all the cracks

ENDGAME SPOILERS AHEAD

Summary: When May reappears after the snap, it’s in front of a moving car. She survives, but needs to stay at the hospital for a while. Where else is Peter supposed to go but to stay with Pepper, Tony and Morgan?

A/N: I turned an angsty prompt from @insane-sociopath slightly less angsty by having May (and Tony!) survive. I hope you like it!

Warnings: Endgame spoilers, nightmares, hints at trauma and PTSD.

Words: 2 100

Tony had known May Parker had vanished after the first snap, and as awful as it sounded he’d been grateful for it. The pain he’d been feeling after Peter had turned to dust, disappeared right in front of him, had almost broken him. He couldn’t imagine how May would’ve felt, losing someone who was her own flesh and blood. If he was to lose Morgan now he was certain he’d go insane.

Not that his love for Peter was any less because of their lack of a blood relation. He would still kill and die for that kid.

Point was, he was grateful May hadn’t had to go through it. It hadn’t been fun.

“Mr Stark?”

Waking up at the hospital, a model of a prosthetic arm on a table across from him courtesy of Bruce, had been jarring. Partly due to the pain and the drugs, but he’d been so sure he was hallucinating Peter being back for the first couple of days that he’d hated his brain for doing that to him.

“How am I alive?” had been his first sentence. The second a demand to see Pepper and Morgan, even though Pepper had been sitting next to him, her trembling hand holding his own. Only something like this could’ve turned Tony Stark into a confused mess, Rhodey had joked, his eyes wet.

“Mr Stark?”

Tony’s body had barely been in any shape to keep his heart going. They all called him a miracle. A once in an existence type of survival.

“I did it for you, you know,” Tony had said to no one in particular, because truly it didn’t matter. It hadn’t mattered and it would never matter.

“I’m so mad at you,” Pepper had said one evening or morning or midafternoon (Tony hadn’t been keeping track). “You could’ve died.”

Tony had smiled, or at least had tried to smile. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“The worst part is that, if you hadn’t done it, you would’ve lived with that regret for the rest of your life.”

“I can’t seem to calm down, can I?”

Pepper had stroked his face. “I’m sure you’ll be calm now.”

“Mr Stark?”

“Hmm?”

Peter - the actual real life alive Peter - must’ve said his name at least three times before he’d realized. Tony focused his gaze on him; took in the tears streaming down his face. “Shit, Pete-”

“It’s nothing bad!” Peter said, sniffling, panicked, voice too loud in the quiet hospital room. “It’s just… well, Aunt May reappeared and-”

Shit, shit, shit.

“An accident and-”

How the hell could life take away the last blood relative that precious kid had?

“She’ll be out in a couple of weeks and-”

“Wait, hold on, back up.”

Apparently May had vanished into dust in the car and reappeared in front of another one, breaking several bones as Earth had welcomed her back. Typical. She’d be fine, but she was going into surgery and wouldn’t be able to leave the hospital for a while.

“I don’t know why I’m such a mess,” Peter said, still his rambly self, after everything.

Tony, only days into his new life post snap, blinked at him. It was, unfortunately, all he managed before the drugs knocked him out again.

When he woke Pepper had made a decision for all of them.

“He’s staying with us until his aunt is back on her feet,” she said. Tony didn’t protest. Why would he?

“I could just crash at Ned’s,” Peter said for the hundredth time, but Pepper shushed him. Tony could tell she’d handle teenage Morgan with no trouble.

By the time Tony got to go home, Peter had been staying there for two weeks already. May’s condition, though not entirely life threatening, had been worse than they’d thought. Peter tried to not let it show how worried he was, for some reason, but it was all but written on his face. Tony, weak and constantly exhausted, felt so helpless he nearly cried.

“I like him,” Morgan said, the two of them alone in Tony’s bedroom, just about avoiding spilling the juice of their melting popsicles onto the bed sheets.

“He’s nice, eh?”

“Very. He makes me laugh.”

“Ah, a comedian. Maybe I just never appreciated his weird gen Z humor.”

Morgan didn’t provide his to her strange remark with any response. Tony had to resist the urge to wrap her in his arms every other minute. As close as they were, he was sure she’d start getting annoyed at him eventually.

He had no idea how much she knew. How close he and the world had been to being entirely ruined. He prayed to god she had no clue, but she was smarter than any kid he’d met (and to be fair, than some adults as well).

If she knew, she hadn’t told him.

“What do you think about him staying with us?” Tony asked her, attempting to sound casual.

“I think it’s fun.”

“But do you miss it just being us?”

“A little,” she said, swallowing the last of her ice cream. “But it’s okay. I like him and he needs us. That’s what mommy said.”

“Mommy’s right, you know.”

“She says he’s like your son.”

Tony doubted Pepper had worded it like that, but he tilted his head anyway. “I care about him.”

“Why did he never come visit before?”

Crap.

“He was away, for a bit.” Tony smiled, ignoring the sudden rush of emotions. “I’m happy you finally got to meet him.”

*

“Mr Stark, you have a daughter.”

“Yes, Pete, we’ve established that.”

Morgan’s feeling toward Peter were nothing compared to Peter’s delight and utter surprise at Tony having put a child into the world (or well - Pepper). Every so often, usually after Tony and Morgan had interacted in any way, Peter would repeat these words. Tony wasn’t sure if he should be offended at the awed tone or not.

“How was it?”

“How was what?”

“When she was being born?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure you’re asking the wrong parent here.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I mean, how were you feeling?”

Tony shrugged. “I was a complete mess, to be honest. Crying and laughing and pacing all over the place. When I first got to see her-” He broke off, clearing his throat. “It was the best moment of my life.”

Peter’s smile could light up the whole goddamn world. “I wish I had been there.”

Tony reached for him, pulling him into a half-hug. “Me too, kid. Me too.”

“But I’m here now, and I’m gonna be the best- uh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What were you about to say?”

Peter had turned red. “I was gonna say big brother, but I felt like- well, I didn’t want to-”

“Of course you’re her big brother, you nerd.”

“Oh.”

Tony snorted. “Well, she did call you my son.”

“Did you correct her?”

“Nah.”

This time Peter’s beaming face was turned downward, bashful.

Tony ruffled his hair. “Come on. Let’s go make the queens of the house some dinner, shall we?”

*

The weeks of Peter’s stay had some dark moments, mostly consisting of Tony’s body not cooperating or Pepper’s heart breaking all over again if she remembered almost losing him or Tony thinking of the moment Peter turned to dust, over and over. It was sleepless nights and trips to the hospital for check ups and visits and all the while Peter feeling guilty for enjoying his stay when his aunt was alone in an empty room.

“You’re there about 90% of your days,” Tony told him. “She doesn’t expect you to do more. In fact, I think she’d kick both your ass and mine if I allowed you to sleep in those torture devices to chairs.”

Tony went to visit her without Peter at times, when he was in school. They didn’t say much because it wasn’t needed.

“I’m sorry you had to spend five years without him,” May said one day, her hand gripping Tony’s perpetually trembling one. The prosthetic one was steady.

“We fixed it,” he said, voice hoarse and slightly too quiet.

“I’m so glad you did.”

“We lost some along the way,” he added, his mind on Natasha, as it often was.

May gave his hand a squeeze. They didn’t speak again for a while.

*

Having a teenage superhero in the house meant helping them with - and forcing them to do -  homework and making them promise to not be out to late and “no, Pete, Spider-Man isn’t needed tonight.” Maybe he was being hypocritical, but at least he could laugh at each look Pepper shot him whenever he reprimanded Peter for things he’d probably done himself.

It also meant running into him when they were both wandering the house in their sleepless states, both confused, both feeling too much with no relief in sight. Tony had been surprised seeing Peter the first night, but, despite his saying he had nothing to make him feel like this really because the snap hadn’t lasted five years for him, Tony couldn’t blame him.

“I’m sure it was traumatic in ways you can’t explain,” Tony said, remembering the hysteria just before he vanished. “And to be fair, the whole goddamn battle was a mess. I’d be worried if you weren’t having trouble sleeping, as much as I wish you didn’t.”

“Does it hurt a lot?” Peter asked then, eyes on Tony’s trembling arm.

“This? Nah. It’s just my body not being as strong anymore. It’s getting better.” Tony hadn’t told any of them of the times he’d entered his lab trying to create something only for him to scream in frustration and not go back in days. His prosthetic arm was working just fine, but the rest of him, parts he’d gotten so used to using whenever he built or tinkered around, were still recovering. That was what Tony said, at least. No one had promised him his old body back. He reckoned he couldn’t really expect them to lie so awfully to him.

“I’ve never been as scared as I was when I saw you sitting there, arm practically crumbling-” Peter cut himself off. “Sorry. Jesus. You probably don’t wanna hear about that.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Talk.”

“I can’t.”

Tony understood.

Some nights, Morgan found them, blinking up at them in the light of the kitchen, confused. “Daddy?”

“Hey, pumpkin, why aren’t you in bed?”

“Why aren’t you?”

And Peter would grin, whenever the tiny little four year old would be smart with her genius father. Tony’s heart was never as full as it was in those moments.

And then, it was over. May, recovered, got to go home and bring Peter with her. They all knew it had been coming.

“You’re sad, aren’t you?” Pepper said the first night without him.

Tony nodded. “A bit. It’s silly.”

“It’s not.”

“Maybe not.”

“You can visit him this time, you know.”

Tony laughed, so loudly he must’ve startled Morgan, wherever she was in the house. “I know.”

“I’m gonna miss having him in the house,” Pepper said. “It wasn’t the same being in the Tower or the Compound. People feel so much closer here.”

“It’s because this is a normal house, which apparently is what normal people live in.”

Pepper laughed. “Domesticity suits you.”

“I try.”

“I know.”

She always did.

“How are you?” Peter asked a couple of weeks later. They hadn’t seen each other since he’d gone back home.

“Me? Doing better. How’s May?”

“She’s doing much better.”

“And how are you?”

Peter didn’t reply immediately, eyes finding the street they were walking next to. “I’m doing all right, mostly.”

“Ah.”

“No new nightmares.”

“But old ones?”

“Always the same ones.”

“I know the feeling.”

If Tony could take all of Peter’s pain and trauma, he would, but he knew that wasn’t possible, so he did the next best thing.

“Let’s grab some ice cream. I think that daughter of mine has made me addicted to that stuff.”

Peter laughed. “I miss her.”

“Well, then I think it’s about time you come visit her, hm?”

“Just say when and I’ll be there.”

“No need. You can show up whenever you want, as long as it isn’t in the middle of the night. Unless it’s an emergency, of course.”

“You say that now, but I bet you’ll raise an eyebrow at me when I walk in on your date with Pepper.”

“As if we won’t have enlisted you to babysit Morgan to begin with.”

“Happy won’t be happy. Hah, that was unintentional.”

“Happy will have to learn to share his duties.”

They were gonna be okay.

[monaisme]

One Week Later - Chapter Two

This is the sequel to my one-shot, “The Battle”

He woke up in stages.

The first time he sort of came around, Peter didn’t even bother to open his eyes. In his sleep stupor, he noticed only the blanket. It smelled—which was weird ‘cuz Aunt May knew that scents bothered him, but this smell wasn’t offensive at all—it was fresh, real, maybe spicy? Its weight was off, too. It was heavier than his favourite Iron Man comforter, which was nice. The extra pressure made him feel safer than he could remember, though he didn’t understand why. He just knew he felt like he could sleep forever, and so he burrowed a little deeper into the warmth and drifted off.

The second time he thought about waking up, it was a quiet, underlying hum that drew his limited attention. It was like something, no—everything was vibrating, and not crazy like an engine... more like a cat’s purr and Peter imagined soft fur through his fingers as he pulled the blanket up to his chin. He hummed in contentment. It felt good. It felt relaxing. It lulled him back into sleep.

The third time Peter was aware of his surroundings he knew he had no choice but to stay awake. The blanket still pressed against him, and the hum of whatever still strummed through him—but hushed whispers of a man and woman nearby meant that people were there, that they waiting for him to come back...

And then he remembered.

His eyes flew open as he gasped which alerted whoever was in the room to his waking. Who that was, Peter wasn’t sure as he clamped his eyes shut in embarrassment. How could he have behaved so... gah! How would anyone ever take him seriously when he kept acting like a baby? –First on the battlefield and then before his surgery. If only he could just figure out some way to toss himself in front of a train, then maybe everyone would be distracted from what had happened.

Thoughts flew through his suddenly racing brain at a mile a minute and Peter tried to throw the blanket over his face to hide himself. He couldn’t face them... but then the pain of trying to move his still not healed arm caused him to gasp again and cry out in pain.  He’d hoped for invisibility but his reactions brought the hands of his visitors to him, straightened him on the bed.

The pain brought nausea and he was sure he was going to puke all over the nice smelling blanket and he couldn’t feel the hum anymore for the panic he was trying to tamp down and it hurt- it hurt- it hurt...

“You’re okay, Peter. Just breathe through it.” Mr. Stark was at his side, trying to settle him. “You’ve got this,” he encouraged as he ran his calloused fingers through Peter’s tangled locks. “Just keep breathing.”

It only took a minute for Peter’s breathing to regulate, which helped the pain, which helped the panic, which helped with the nausea—and Peter was left only just as tired as he’d been before he’d decided to spazz out like a weirdo, again.  He groaned and finally managed to pull his blanket over his head using his good arm. “Kill me now, please?” He whispered to himself as he flushed in utter humiliation.

Mr. Stark heard his pleas, however, and simply replied. “I just got you back, Petey. I’d much prefer it if you made an effort to keep breathing for me, bud.” Mr. Stark gave a light tug on the blanket and stayed beside him.

—Which was new?! Mr. Stark was supposed to say something snarky and then hightail it out of the room to call someone better suited to whatever occasion, be it a nurse or doctor or... well. It didn’t matter. The point was, he didn’t do all of that emotional stuff. The man had always insisted that he was stunted that way—which was maybe true, but it was alright, because he was just... Mr. Stark.

So Peter waited under the blanket and hoped that the room would clear, like it always had... even if Mr. Stark had been off-script, he’d leave, right? Peter just needed to wallow in private for a bit before he had to face—

“Peter?”

He closed his eyes and wondered if he could wait him out.

“Peter? Please?”

Mr. Stark would grow tired and leave eventually, right?

“Hey, kid, c’mon. Let me just see that you’re okay, okay? And if you want some time to yourself after that, I’ll go—I promise.”

Peter snort laughed. That sounded exactly like the old Mr. Stark. “Yeah, right,” he muttered.

Even under the blanket, Peter could hear the huff of frustration from his mentor, and then the scraping of chair legs against the floor as Mr. Stark seemed to station himself more comfortably at his side.

“You’ll find, my dear Mr. Parker, that many things have changed over the last five years... and one of those things is my ability to wait out all things stubborn—be it teammates, children, or alpacas. So if you think this is gonna put me off, you can think again, kiddo. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

Peter didn’t believe him.

He knew Mr. Stark. He knew him almost as well as his Aunt May—and was sure that Mr. Stark would start up a fuss soon enough—that this was all a bluff, but then he started to think too much and too fast... again.

Five years had passed. He had no reason to believe anyone was lying about the length of time he’d been in that place. Dr. Strange had said it before the battle, Mr. Stark had said it just then, and May wasn’t... well, May wasn’t here.

Maybe no one would judge him for his freak out?

And he needed answers and hiding under a blanket wasn’t going to get him anything.

But coming out of from under the blanket meant getting those answers, and the start of the now telltale tingling of his spider-senses told him that putting this off just a little longer might—or might not—be a bad thing.

Peter sighed as he warred with himself.

“Peter?”

His eyes filled and he fought back tears. “I’m okay, Mr. Stark. Promise. I, um...” his voice warbled. “I think I need a second, please.”

A gentle press of a hand against his good shoulder, still trapped under the blanket, “You can take all the time you need, as long as you’re okay. I’m right here when you’re ready.”

Peter blew out a slow breath and a few tears fell. “What happens if I don’t think I ever will be?”

The hand squeezed in support. “You will be, sweetheart. And when you are, I’m going to be right here.” Mr. Stark laughed that self-deprecating laugh that he always did. “And I’m not nearly the asshole I used to be so when you’re good, well, you know, I may even be helpful, but take your time. Honest. There’s no rush.” Another squeeze, and then Mr. Stark pulled his hand away.

A rush of urgency washed over the boy, and he knew that while Mr. Stark wasn’t lying to him, what he’d said wasn’t true.

He blew out another breath, this one of determination. Peter almost threw the blankets back—almost, but then thought better of it. Instead, he took a second to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks. Only once he’d done that, and was sure that no more tears would escape, did he ever so slowly pull the blanket down from his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes still shone with wetness, but he made himself look over at the man at his side. He cleared his throat and whispered, “Hi, Mr. Stark.”

He’d have thought Mr. Stark had just seen a pile of puppies for the soft look on his face. “Hey, Peter. Are you okay?”

Peter nodded a ‘yes.’

Mr. Stark nodded as well. “That’s good. Dr. Cho said your surgery went really well... and your blood work is almost back to normal. The guessing game starts now, though. Will your shoulder finish healing before your spider-powers come back completely or will your powers come back and then it heal your shoulder?” Mr. Stark chuckled. “Regardless, it’s almost over and I’m hoping that you never... ever have to go through that again.” He shuddered in remembrance. “It was awful to watch. I couldn’t imagine having to go through it.”

Peter shrugged with his one good arm. What could he say to that? “It’s okay.”

“No,” Mr. Stark replied. “It’s not. I didn’t even think that you coming back would have meant and we thrust you into the middle of a...” He stopped himself from speaking. Peter could see him visibly shift gears and then deflate. “No, we’re not talking about that yet. So much has happened, kiddo, and I don’t know where to start.”

Peter fiddled with the blanket underneath his hand nervously and voiced his biggest concern. “Can you tell me about May?”

Mr. Stark smiled down sadly at the boy. “I told you that we’d get you in front of a screen for a reunion once you were done with all the medical stuff, kiddo, and I wasn’t lying.” Mr. Stark gestured to the room at large. “I did manage to convince Dr. Cho that you would recover better in here, by the way, so you’ve managed to already hit the ‘temporary quarters’ portion of the event.”

Peter couldn’t help how unsure he sounded. “... and May?”

Mr. Stark looked at his watch. “New York is six hours behind us and it’s just after 1pm here, so that means that May is getting ready for an appointment just now...”

Mr. Stark knew Aunt May’s appointment schedule?

“... but I can give her the heads up that we’re waiting for her and maybe we can make some magic happen?” He smiled and gave Peter a wink. “But for now, why don’t we get you out of bed and get some real food in your stomach? I promised Dr. Cho that we’d stay on top of food and hydration if she took the IVs out, so...” Mr. Stark was trying to look nonchalant about the request, but he seemed concerned. “Does that work for you?”

Peter really wasn’t sure about the food idea, and he definitely wasn’t a fan of leaving his bed. It felt like sanctuary in what was about to be chaos and Peter couldn’t help but wish he could feel that way forever—but Mr. Stark seemed keen on seeing movement and Peter had already caused so much trouble—he nodded, “Okay. I can do that.”

Mr. Stark clapped his hands together and stood up. “Good man! Now—“ He started reaching toward the bed. “Let me help you out. You’ve been off your feet for far too long and, nutrients or not, I’m sure you’re gonna feel a little unsteady.” He pulled the blankets back and supported Peter as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Okay. How are you feeling right now?”

If Peter were being honest, he’d have told Mr. Stark that he was feeling a little vertigo—that the room was tilting a little funny and that he wasn’t sure he was up for the task. And it wasn’t like he thought Mr. Stark would keep things from him, but delays because Peter couldn’t pull it together meant potentially waiting to hear word about May and he couldn’t risk it. “I’m good, sir. Thanks.” He gave a half smile, committed to the ruse and wiggled toward the end of the bed.

“You’re killing me, kid! I thought we were friends! You know that ‘sir’ garbage is absolutely unacceptable.“

Peter grinned at the familiarity. “C’mon,” he lowered himself to stand up on the floor, “You know I was raised to respect my elders.”

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Respect, my ass.” Mr. Stark cuffed Peter playfully across the back of his head. “The day I get any respect, is the day I sprout flowers out of my ass.”

A light tap on the door drew Peter’s attention as the words left Mr. Stark’s mouth, and then it opened enough for Ms. Potts head to peek into the room. “Now Tony, you know better than to use language like that in front of impressionable young children.” Ms. Potts playfully chastised him.

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes, “Sure he’s impressionable like I’m a—“

“Yes, Tony. I know, you’re the victim here and Peter was being a big meanie.” She looked at Peter and smiled affectionately before staring down the man beside him. “You know I wasn’t joking about the swear jar. Behave, Mr. Stark, or else.” She shook her head in mock disapproval and looked back at Peter. “I’m sorry to interrupt, I heard you two talking and was wondering if you wanted me to order something from the kitchen for lunch.”

Peter smiled awkwardly at her consideration and turned to Mr. Stark. “I’m not sure...” he started, only for Mr. Stark to interrupt.

“Yeah, Pep, that would be great.” Mr. Stark scrutinized Peter for a second, and saw enough that he turned back to Mr. Potts. “I don’t think his sandwich made it past Clint, so we’re gonna have to improvise. Can you see if they have a vegetable soup or broth—maybe some bread or crackers or something, too? I think we’ll keep it light for now... just until his metabolism is up to snuff again.” The request was made as he turned to Peter again. “Does that sound good?”

His stomach churned, and while it may not have sounded good, it was probably going to be at least manageable so he nodded ‘yes.’ “Thank you, Ms. Potts. That’s sounds great.” He smiled feebly.

The atmosphere in the room shifted, and Peter wondered why both adults seemed so uncomfortable.

“Actually, Pete,” Mr. Stark rededicated himself to getting Peter up from where he’d propped himself against the bed. “It’s Mrs. Stark now.” He chuckled nervously and cleared his throat. “It’s all official and everything. No take-backs.”  

Peter brought his attention over to Ms. Potts—um, Mrs. Stark, where she nervously wiggled the fingers of her left hand to show off a simple wedding band.

“Oh.” Peter frowned, then blushed, embarrassed again at his reaction. That had been unkind, and it wasn’t their fault. He tried to recover with what he hoped was his normal exuberance. “I mean—Oh! That’s awesome! Congratulations on your marriage, Mr. And Mrs. Stark.” He imagined the fanfare; imagined a large ballroom with dancing and food and laughter. He figured that May had gone. She and Ms. Potts—damn it! Mrs. Stark had been friends before—And his mentor? The man he thought of as his... crap. He stopped that train of thought and tried to shake off those five missed years. He huffed out a breath of regret. “I’m sorry I missed it...” He half smiled as his voice trailed off. That had made it no better. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispered.

Mr. Stark wrapped his arm around Peter’s waist and started moving them slowly toward the door Mrs. Stark was still standing at. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Pete... at least for you. You’ve been in and out of it for the last week and we didn’t think it made sense to fill you in on all of the changes while you couldn’t really retain it. That’s on me, and I’m the one who should be sorry.”

Mrs. Stark moved out of their way and excused herself to get lunch for everyone, “That will give you boys a chance to talk,” she said quietly, and she left the suite for the kitchen.

Neither of them said anything as they shuffled toward the living room, which Peter appreciated. His emotions were all over the place in that moment, and physically, he knew he needed to sit down before he did something stupid like fall on his face.

“Peter? Are you doing alright?”

They were mere feet from the couch so Peter waited until he was sitting before he nodded. “Yeah,” he panted from the exertion. “I guess I’m just a little out of shape.” He joked. Peter took in the room around him with its glass and metal as he continued, “But sitting is good.” His head spun, but just a bit. “I guess I’ll take this over the being stuck in bed.”

Mr. Stark sat on the coffee table across from him and smiled. “That sounds like the Peter Parker I know.”  He leaned forward and put a strong hand on his knee. “Now, how do you want to work this? Do you want to ask questions, should I start at the beginning, or will this devolve into one of your trademarked Peter conversations where any semblance of order is thrown out the window so we should just jump right into it?”

Peter shrugged and simply answered, “I really want to know about Aunt May.”    

Mr. Stark exhaled slowly, then nodded. “Okay, so—May.” He pulled his hand back from the boy’s knee and clasped his hands together, almost like he was praying. “Alright. First and foremost, May is alive. She was not dusted so she’s still here. She knows you are back and has been updated regularly regarding your recovery... Oh! Thanks for the reminder! She says you’re grounded, by the way and,” Mr. Stark leaned forward and planted a big ol’ kiss on the top of Peter’s head. “That is from her, and she is so excited to hear from you now that you’re awake and coherent.”

Peter couldn’t hide his relief. “Okay. That’s so good. That means she’s okay, right? Is she just busy with work? I can’t even imagine how crazy the world must be...” Peter rambled before seeing that Tony wasn’t sharing in his exuberance. “Mr. Stark?”  

Mr. Stark jumped into it with an explanation, “Before I start, kid, please know that most of the story is what I’ve been told. I was stuck floating on a spaceship for three weeks and only found out about this after we came back, so I may not be able to answer your questions... but if I can’t, we’ll find someone who can. Okay? Maybe Pepper? Heck. Maybe we should wait for Pepper? She shouldn’t be too much longer and then—“

“Is it that bad?” Peter asked.

Mr. Stark closed his eyes, like he was steeling himself up to do something awful, and that’s when Peter knew. He closed his own eyes for a second, tried to temper the emotions warring within him. He needed to be strong.

“After the first snap, she couldn’t find you—or Ned, or anyone, I guess, so she called Pepper who didn’t know what the hell was going on either. Steve... uh, Steve Rogers,” Mr. Stark added, in case Peter needed clarification, “He got in touch with Pepper and brought her over to Wakanda to rally the remaining troops, I guess, but—yeah. May was invited to come, too, but with all of the chaos after that snap, May decided to stay and keep working. The ratio of healthcare workers to the injured was horrifying, Pete, but your aunt was a freakin’ hero. She worked harder than anyone and saved so many lives over the course of the week after...”

“And?” Peter was growing impatient.

Mr. Stark hesitated.

“Mr. Stark, please.”

Mr. Stark leaned forward again, “She’d worked another overtime shift and was leaving the emergency department sometime around 2am. From what the police could gather, a drug addict was heading into the hospital hoping to get a fix when he saw your aunt in her uniform and approached her instead.” Mr. Stark tried to catch Peter’s eye, but Peter refused. “She tried to talk him into going in and getting help but this guy’s dealer and his back up had both been dusted and he was next level desperate and, um...” Mr. Stark’s mouth twisted as he tried to say the words. “She was stabbed in the side eight times, and would have bled out in minutes if not for the fact that she was only steps away from the ER doors. She was rushed into surgery, where the doctors were able to save her, but she ended up losing a kidney.”  

Peter blanched. “She was stabbed?” He squeaked.

Mr. Stark held his hands again, “Yeah, bud.” He ran his thumbs gently over Peter’s knuckles. “Do you need to take a break? I’m not expecting that we’ll be able to talk to her for a bit, so there’s time.”

It was like the universe was listening as a disembodied voice interrupted them and announced, “Incoming video call from May Parker’s primary physician.”

Peter dropped his head into his hands waiting to see what cruel joke it had in store for him.

Mr. Stark didn’t hesitate to reply. “Answer it, FRIDAY.” He stood up and moved to shield Peter from the camera. “Dr. Bonwick, we didn’t have a call scheduled for today. Is everything alright?”

Peter couldn’t see him, but could hear the concern in his voice, “No, we didn’t, but Mrs. Parker has developed an infection at her access site and we’ve had to move her back into the med bay for further treatment. She had mentioned a video call to her nephew,” Mr. Stark shifted again, “and had seemed quite agitated about missing it, but with the fever, she’s struggling with pain levels and we’ve had to adjust med dosages temporarily.”

Mr. Stark placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “So no phone call today,” Mr. Stark stated.

“No, Sir. We had to bump her dialysis treatment up to very early this morning in order to accommodate the antibiotics schedule, so she’s currently sleeping.  We anticipate that she’ll stay that way until we can get the right dosage working for her.”

Mr. Stark sighed. “Alright. Please let me know when she’s awake, Doc.” Mr. Stark’s hand moved and he ran his fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. “She wasn’t the only one excited about that call. FRIDAY, disconnect.”

Neither of them moved, but Peter spoke first. “Tell me.”

Mr. Stark dropped to the seat beside him, but kept his fingers moving through Peter’s hair. “When they removed her kidney, it was obvious that it wasn’t healthy, so they did every test under the sun. It turns out that May has a genetic condition called autosomal dominant polycystic dominant kidney disease—and you’re lucky that I got it right that time, ‘cause I’m never saying it again.” Mr. Stark shifted to wrap his arm around Peter’s torso and hugged him to his side. “Some people can have it and never know, while others get sick, suffer chronic headaches, develop cysts, high blood pressure... there’s a list somewhere.” Mr. Stark stopped for a second, regrouped, and then continued. “Regardless, your Aunt May didn’t know she had it, didn’t even know it was something in her family, what with—“

“Them all being dead?” Peter finished his sentence for him.

Mr. Stark side hugged him again. “Yeah, that.”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t know what to say—like, what kind of treatment is she receiving? Where is she? Is she gonna be okay? Can I go see her?”

“Breathe, Peter.” Mr. Stark reminded him. “Of course you can see her. We were waiting for you to be better before leaving, just in case things went all topsy-turvy, but you seem to be in the final-final stretch so Pep and I were thinking that we’d head back to New York tomorrow.”

Peter nodded eagerly, ignoring the lingering dizziness.

“We’ll head straight to the tower then, okay? May’s been there since she was released from the hospital five years ago. She’d wanted to keep working, but I figured you’d want me to keep an eye on her, especially after... so we compromised and she moved into Nat’s old quarters. When she started getting sicker, we moved her into the penthouse and brought in a team to treat her specifically. She’s in the med bay right—“

“Wait! Sicker?” Peter interrupted. “It’s just an infection, right? That’s what the doctor said!”

“Peter, your aunt’s condition worsened in the years after the stabbing,” Mr. Stark moved again to sit back on the coffee table—took his hands in his again. “Peter, I need you to understand. With only one compromised kidney, it wasn’t long before your aunt was on dialysis and the organ transplant list, but with half the population gone...”

“No.”

“Peter. Look at me.” The stern tone brought Peter’s eyes up. “We have done everything humanly possible to take care of your aunt, I promise you that—and now that everyone is back, there may be a chance...?”

The laugh that came out of Peter bordered on hysterical as the reality he’d reformed into came crashing down around him before he’d even taken a breath. “Stop. I can’t hear it.” He looked wildly around the room, “I just need to process this and then figure things out and then I’ll be good.” He stood up, forcing Mr. Stark to lean back on the table. “I need to talk to May.”

“Peter, she’s—“

“I know, okay!?. I know! I heard him!” He was trying not to panic but it vibrated through him like that earlier hum. He wished he could go back to however long ago and that peace and safety but he’d already wasted so much time recovering and five years in that damned stone! How could he--? May had needed him and he was gone and she was hurt and sick and he was gone and now he was here and he was still too far away! Why couldn’t he ever be in the right place at the right time? First Ben and now—Damn it! “I need to—I need to take a walk,” Peter stepped away from the couch, unsteady, but determined to pace. “I’m gonna take a walk and then I’m gonna sit down and make a list—“ Aunt May always said to make a list if he felt too overwhelmed, and if ever there was a time—Peter’s heart started to race as he gulped in air. “I’ll do that and then I’ll have a plan—and then when I talk to Aunt May, I won’t need to worry her—“ He swayed. “I can’t worry her, Mr. Stark.” Peter could feel his heart breaking. He crouched low and curled in on himself. “I can’t do this again.”

Peter felt him come up beside him and usher him back to the couch. “C’mon, sweetheart. I hear you, but we need to get you lying down before you pass out.” He pressed him down onto the couch and manoeuvred Peter back so he was stretched out. Some throw cushions somehow made it under his feet and Mr. Stark was again sitting on that stupid coffee table at Peter’s head. “You’re okay, kiddo. Just breathe for me.”

Peter turned away from his mentor and pressed his face into the back of the couch. “No.” He brought his arms up over his head, not even noticing that the pain in his shoulder was almost gone for the pain in his chest. “I can’t.”

Mr. Stark moved from the coffee table to the narrow strip of cushion behind him. “Yes, you can, Peter. You do it all the time.”

“But what if I don’t want to...” He sounded so pathetic even as he gasped.

“Well, if you don’t want to do it for you, then you do it for someone else—like your aunt... just until you get the strength back to do it for yourself.”

“But when she’s gone...”    

“Then you do it for someone else, Peter Parker.” Mr. Stark shifted a bit, then came in for a hug from behind. “Because if you think, for one damned second, that you’re alone, you are wrong—do you understand me?”

A gut wrenching sob tore from Peter’s throat and he couldn’t—he just couldn’t. He shook his head to disagree, but the warm pressure of his mentor at his back, staying beside him as he struggled, told him that he was wrong. It was too much to bear and Mr. Stark was there and he needed something—someone to anchor him before he lost himself completely. He forced himself to move right then, because if he didn’t, he never would again. He sat up, awkward and gangly as he fought against cushions and emotional exhaustion. Mr. Stark was there, waiting to see what Peter needed, and so Peter threw himself into his arms and wept as Mr. Stark’s arms came around him. “I wanna go home, Mr. Stark. Please. I just wanna go home.”

Mr. Stark rocked him, “Alright, buddy. We’ll get you there,” he promised. “We’ll get you home to May.“

* * * * * *

Mrs. Stark found them that way only a short time later, and Peter was drained enough that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Tony?” She whispered as she gently placed a tray laden with food on the coffee table. “Has something happened?”

Mr. Stark continued rocking as he answered. “May’s doctor called. We had to postpone the video call and we talked about May—all of it.”

And that was enough for Mrs. Stark to understand. “Okay. So what’s the plan, honey?”

“When Peter’s ready for me to move, I’ll get in touch with T’Challa and Dr. Strange and arrange for a portal back home.” Peter snuggled deeper into Mr. Stark’s chest and the man pressed a kiss into Peter’s hair. “Not yet, baby, I know.” He shifted to accommodate Peter’s wiggles and continued. “Other than that—“ Mr. Stark shrugged. “I guess we figure out how to move forward from all of this?”

And Peter wondered to himself if he ever would.

[irondadgroupie]

Bohemian Rhapsody: Chapter 4

A/N: This story is about to get good! @intoresus

As soon as Tony and Peter were both in surgery, Rhodey was left alone, pacing, waiting. He hated it. The inability to help, the assistants swirling around, asking him every two minutes if he needed something - a water, a blanket (“Waiting could take a while Sergeant Rhodes, maybe you should sit down for a second”). He turned everything down, tried to focus on the view from one of the top floors of the compound’s main building.

“Sergeant, are you sure you don’t want to sit down and have a glass of water after the shock?”

Shock. Shock was an understatement for what he’d just witnessed, but he answered firmly anyway:

“I appreciate your concern, but no.” The red-headed assistant nodded, floundering off in some pretty high heels. The sound.

The sound reminded him of an eager young woman that never failed walking astonishingly straight in high heels.

“There’s something else I’d like you to do for me, please, if you wouldn’t mind? Could you tell me how Mrs. Potts’ schedule is looking today?”

“Of course, Sir, no problem.” That woman could win an award for ‘best-customer-service smile’. A nanosecond later, Rhodey felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, receiving the digital print-out of his request’s results. He eyed it critically.

“Busy all day, it seems.” He sighed. It’d be useless to try reaching her during a meeting - the woman usually had her phone turned off or calls blocked during meetings, but at the same time, she’d behead Rhodey for every minute that passed without her knowing that Tony had been inflicted in a car accident. “Have to try it at six, probably the earliest time she might answer the phone at all.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ve already informed Mrs. Potts about the occurrence.”

“You reached her?” Rhodey raised an eyebrow scanning the meetings again. “I assume she’s on her way back already, then.”  

Work meant nothing when Tony had been involved in a possibly life-threatening trouble. And as the day had proven, everything could turn out to be life-threatening for him.

“I don’t know Sir. It does not seem as if she’d listened to the voicemail I sent.”

Rhodey blinked, dumbfounded.  

“Pardon?”

“I cannot figure out whether Mrs. Potts has listened to -“

“A voicemail?!” Rhodey interrupted, anger crashing over him. “You sent her a voicemail telling her that her husband has been injured in a car crash?!”  

The young woman seemed shocked by his response, but Rhodey didn’t find it in him to care. How can someone be insensitive enough to leave a voicemail with such vital information?

“I’ve been trying to reach her around ten times. Since she wasn’t picking up and the information was so important, I assumed it would be for the best to have her get it as soon as possible.”

Rhodey found himself just at a loss for words. He began eagerly tapping on the screen to dial one of Pepper’s assistants. Have them tell her to cut the meeting short - and most importantly, have them discreetly delete the voicemail.

After that, he had to deal with the task of informing Peter’s aunt about the incident.

Tony woke up because his mouth was dry. It was a common situation: on busy days, he found himself forgetting to drink quite a lot, but this dryness appeared different.

He twitched his fingers and felt a hand holding them.

“Tony?” A feminine voice asked.  

He knew that voice but his brain seemed to be on vacation - or drunk.

He tried to swallow but that led to coughing. His body was aching all over. His right hand felt numb, a little wrong, too, but it was better than the pain. A part of him remembered why, the other part tried to forget.

“Shh,” the voice comforted him as he whimpered in discomfort. “It’s alright, honey.”

He could not open his eyes. He didn’t want to. Was it all a dream?

“Peter?” His voice was between a groan and whisper.  

Pepper almost shook her head. Asking for Peter before anyone or anything else had become such a typical Tony thing. She would never blame him, though. The teenager had helped changing Tony into an even better person, and after all that the man must’ve been through in the past few hours, starting with resuscitating his child, his question came as no surprise.

“Peter is resting, he is alright, you saved his life.”

Those words jostled something in his mind. Why didn’t those sentences feel good?

He didn’t feel good.

“Sick,” Tony mumbled and someone shifted beside him.

“Are you going to be sick?”

His response was a gag. Tender but firm hands helped him on his side and a bedpan was placed under his chin.

“Take deep breaths,” Pepper coaxed him as Tony spat out bile. He was soon done, thanks to his stomach being empty but the overwhelming feeling of nausea did not leave.  

Tony gently rolled onto his back and breathed harshly.

“Peter?”

The woman rubbed his arm.

“He is fine, Tony. He has not yet woken up but he is improving.”

Tony’s hand shook, improving could mean anything. Anything was an improvement to dragging the boy’s limp body across the lake and then forcing breath back to his lungs.

“I-” Tony closed his eyes for a moment as he felt dizzy. “I have to see him.”  

The request almost broke Pepper’s heart. She knew that Tony would never calm down until he could be sure that Peter was getting the best care possible. But at the moment, neither of them was in the physical condition to be moved. Pepper had been more than glad to find Tony breathing by himself and, aside of his hand, comparatively unharmed when she’d returned from her trip. The ease had vanished the moment she’d been informed the reason they’d keep Tony under more advanced care for a few days.

“You can’t yet, you are still healing. Your heart-”

“I need to see Peter,” The man’s voice was harsher. “I need to know he is here.”

“Tony, you can see Peter later but first a doctor has to come and check you up.”

“They can check me up there.”

“Tony,” Pepper’s voice was firm but her eyes held the concern she could not convey through words: “Your heart nearly gave out.”

“So did Peter’s,” Tony remembered the shore and his left hand shook. “I had to hit his chest to get him back.”  

“That explains the bruises, McKane suspected you didn’t use just mere chest compressions.”

It was sick how normally they could talk about resuscitating a 16-year-old kid.

“Still wasn’t enough to save him.”  

Pepper sighed. The agony in Tony’s face and his eyes was unbearable. She reached forward, her thumb gently stroking his cheek.

“There was nothing more you could’ve done. And what you did was crucial in getting him here alive in the first place. You did save him.”  

Tony didn’t respond, occupied with trying to blink away tears.

“Is someone with him?”

“Sure. Rhodey has been with him all the time, he was never alone. His aunt will be contacted to. We’ve taken care of everything.”

“Thank you.” Tony rasped, his tongue suddenly feeling heavy. “But I still want to -“ He took in a deep breath, trying his best to fight against sleep crawling over him. They were obviously dripping pain killers in his veins on a regular basis. “I have to see him, Pep. He needs me.”

“Yes, he does.”

Tony looked up, as best as he could, given that his neck felt awfully stiff, and found himself looking at an elderly physician. “However, I believe that he needs you in good shape. Which requires you working with our help to get you up on your feet as quickly as possible.”  

The doctor took a step forward and barely warned Tony before checking his eyes with a penlight.

“Can you tell me your full name?”  

Tony grit his teeth but relented. Once the examination was over, Pepper couldn’t say anything against seeing Peter anymore. ‘Doctor has to check you up’. That’s all she’d wanted.

“Anthony Stark.”

“Good.” The doctor let the pen vanish in the pocket of his scrubs. “Do you remember what happened?”  

Awfully detailed, even. As if every second of the day had been burned into his memory and the marks would stay forever.

“Car crash, “ He remarked dryly. “Peter was with me. How is he?”  

“I have been assigned solemnly to take care of you, Mr. Stark. My colleagues are currently taking care of Mr. Parker.”

It wasn’t the answer he’d wanted to hear, but the medic went on anyway. “Are you experiencing any pain at the moment?”

Aside of his heart aching to see Peter? Not that much.  

Mainly, Tony felt like he’d been put in cotton wool: whatever painkillers those were, they really kicked in.  

“I want to see Peter. Right now.”

“Tony, please. Just let him finish.” Pepper said softly, taking his left hand in hers. “I know you care for Peter. I do, too. But I care for you just as much, and I really want to be sure you’re alright.”  

She watched Tony sinking the last centimeter into the pillow. Her words definitely seemed to have touched the right spot. Which was enough, for now. The doctor took advantage of the moment, using a little metal stick to gently poke into each of Tony’s fingertips in his right hand. It was basically the only part easily reached, since the rest of his hand was literally covered in fixatives. Tony responded to have somewhat of a feeling in each of them, and that was all they could ask for now. The plastic - and neurosurgeons had obviously done a pretty good job.

“‘S that it, now?”

“Tony, you -“

“No.” The man used his last bits of his strength to wrestle himself free from his spouse’s grip. “He’s done and since he said nothing else, I’m good. I have to see my kid now.”  

The monitors beeped in alarm when his heart-rate made a sudden jump to 105.

“Mr. Stark, I have to ask you to take a deep breath and try to calm down. Your heart has been trough a lot to day and it - you - need some rest to recover.”

“I don’t need rest, for fuck’s sake.” Tony began coughing harshly, the anger he’d wanted to portray putting a strain on a sore throat. It didn’t exactly help with the situation.

He saw it, he heard it, felt his heart racing in his chest. It was making him feel even more dizzy and uncomfortable, but still, no one seemed to understand - or wanted to. He heard the doctor mumbling something to Pepper, but he couldn’t understand it. His world was static.

“I just want to see my kid.” He mumbled, the painkillers suddenly making it hard to focus on talking. Sleep would’ve nudged in on everyone else already, but Tony Stark’s will was stronger than any sedatives. “Can’t ask me to be calm without knowing he’s alright.”  

On a good day, he would’ve added ‘And think about whose paying your checks.’, but right now staying awake was a hard enough task as it was, so he didn’t intend to waste energy on giving cynic comments.

Pepper sighed. She had another thousand arguments on her list: Tony was tired, he wasn’t at the top of his game, he couldn’t help Peter, not in either in their current conditions. Arguments just wouldn’t matter, not right now.  

This was like the week Peter had been on a class outing and had forgotten to call Tony one night, even though they had agreed on it to ease the man’s worry of having Flash’s harassment’s going too far. Peter hadn’t picked up calls that day as the battery of his phone had died, and Tony had been awake all-night, pondering over whether or not to just take the suit and check on the kid. Pepper hadn’t gotten him to sleep that day, or the following, not until the teenager had finally answered one of the frantic calls.  

“Is there a possibility that we can make arrangements for him to see Peter-“ She saw Tony easing up a little and squeezed his hand “- without leaving the bed?”

“Yeah.” Tony still fought against the effect, but the meds were making his thoughts cloudy and muffled, he felt slightly high. “Just have us share a room, I’m good with that. Kid’s been wanting to have a real sleepover for forever anyway.”

Pepper raised an eyebrow at the doctor, who frowned, but nodded after a second.

“I’ll see what we can arrange.”

“You must promise us to rest,” Pepper walked beside Tony, keeping his hand in warm hold.

“Scout’s word,” Tony nodded.

“She is correct, Mr Stark,” His doctor affirmed as they left his room and walked through the corridor. “Your heart can’t take any shocks.”

“I have prepared myself,” The man said, his eyes fixed on the windows that saw to Peter’s room. “I have imagined the worst scenarios in my mind. I have seen him in a ventilator before.”

Pepper couldn’t help to point out: “Tony, that was different. He was being extubated after a minor surgery on his ankle.”

“It was still a breathing tube, Pep.”

He tried to look through the window but his neck was too stiff to reach his head. The lights were on and the curtains shadowed the view partly.

The door opened and Tony was calm. It was not too bad, his mind told him. Peter was hooked in monitors and dozens of wires hung from his body. Heart line showed a steady, strong pulse and BP seemed to be acceptable. The boy’s eyes were taped shut and the same material had been used to secure the breathing tube to his mouth.  

“How is he doing?” Pepper asked and left Tony for a second to run a hand through the boy’s tangled curls.

“Relatively good,” The doctor started the monologue while rolling Tony’s hospital bed next to Peter’s. “He had some minor bleeding in the abdomen but we managed to fix it.”

“He is in a coma, how can you call that good?” Tony’s voice was low and grave as he stared at the boy, like his wishes alone could force Peter to wake up. There was a distance between their beds and he couldn’t reach Peter’s hand.

“Mr. Stark, coma is not a death sentence,” The doctor was oblivious to Tony’s attempts to sit up as he focused on fixing the IV and monitors on the side. “It is body’s natural response to trauma. It is treatable and often beneficiary. It means his body is taking a time-out and focusing on repairing the damage.”

Tony cursed his weakness, the drugs were taking away his strength. The doctor raised the head of his bed and it helped him to gather his bearings.  

“I need to-” He gasped and his heart line jumped. It gave him motivation. He had to try.

Tony swung his legs over the railing and leaned on the night stand.

“Mr. Stark!” The doctor rushed to him and steadied his uncoordinated steps.

“Peter,” He reached for a chair but the lines were in the way.

“Tony, “ Pepper was by his side and tried to untangle the IV and hear monitor lines. “Lie back down, please.”

“No,” The man shook his head and took another step, this one much steadier than the previous ones. Determination was making drugs vanish from his system. “I need to see Peter. I need to check him over.”

The doctor nodded, he was used to this reaction from parents. He fetched a wheelchair and helped the man sit on the padded surface.  

Tony pulled himself closer to the bed and the moment his eyes set on Peter’s face, tears started streaming down.

“Kiddo,” He whispered and covered his mouth with his bad hand. The boy’s face was covered in tiny cuts, the deepest ones had been stitched.

“His lips are dry,” Tony noticed and looked at Pepper. “He needs water.”

“Ice chips are good for that,” The doctor took a cup and set it on the nightstand. “Just let it slide gently.”

Tony took a small chip and it immediately started melting against the boy’s lips. They were chapped and unmoving but warm and pink.

He couldn’t help a relieved chuckle.

“You did it, kid,” He whispered and kissed Peter’s brow. “My brave little boy.”

Ventilator provided the boy with air. Tony set his injured hand on Peter’s chest, careful that the weight would not hinder the movement. He could faintly feel the boy’s heart beating and imagined it, the most beautiful sight.

Peter’s hair had air-dried but was dry, rough and hopelessly tangled. Peter hated tangles and his curls.

“Is he in pain?” Tony tried to solve the problem areas but soon gave up, his fingers were not enough.

“No,” The doctor shook his head. Tony sniffled, nodded and stroked Peter’s face with his knuckles: the boy was so warm. “He is in a deep, peaceful sleep. The drugs,” Tony eyed the lines that ran to Peter’s hand, arm and under the blankets ,”are there to provide him with nutrients and help combat possible infections.”

“When do you suppose he will wake up?” Pepper’s voice was gentle and the doctor breathed out and shrugged.

“I can’t answer that. Peter went through a lot and his body needs time to heal.”

“What is usually the estimation?” Tony needed to know.

“It varies from person to person. I doubt he wakes up tomorrow. It can take a week, or two, maybe a month.”

“Isn’t it that the longer he stays in coma, the worse the prognosis is?”

“It’s not that simple,” The doctor shook his head. “I have seen patients that have been in a coma for months and recover fully. Then some are in a coma for a few days and lose most of their cognitive functions. Mr Stark, I can’t say anything for certain but I do know that Peter’s tests were promising and he improves steadily.”

Tony laughed wetly.  

“Yes,” He stroked Peter’s hair and gazed into the closed eyes. “He is stubborn as a mule, my little firecracker.”

[jesslcover]

H.E.A.L.T.H. What is it?

For many years, ive been trying to get all these beautiful inspiring stories out of my head and out into the public. I believe that I have a message and maybe my delivery is off but its there....  There is no right or wrong way to deliver a message because it truly comes down to the perception of the receiver, not you that creates the problem. If you have a message to share with the world.. share it, and if the world isn't ready, thats there issue, not yours. So here’s mine.... well a small piece of it... 

Have you ever thought about what the true definition of health is? Is the worlds definition of health congruent with your own definition? How did you come to your own way of health or do you follow others and envision yourself as them maybe when you were completely out of balance with yourself. Or did you do research on ways to quick fix your health Hit?  

There are so many ways we can view health and in each one of us, its different. Take a smoker of 30 years.....    If you or someone you know has smoked for a very long time and are thinking about quitting, you know its gonna be stressful. Even if you are 100% committed to giving up the filthy habit and saying good rides, the body and mind are going to, at some point be in stress overload. The nasty chemical of nicotine has adapted inside your body and your cells feed off of them but then ll of a sudden, you are suffocating the fuel for which stimulated the craving when they were on empty... So your brain thinks, “feed me nicotine, feed me oral fixation.” 

No patch, gum or physical ailment has ever been the true reason some someone killing the habit. The real healing and transformation comes from the energetic balance between what our mind is telling our body, and what forces surround us in our environment the controls our cravings within our body. 

For 12 years, I smoked very heavy cigarettes. Not the Light to Ultra light brands but the stuff the big boys, construction workers, mechanics, Beer Bellied red necks, used to smoke. My mom allowed me to smoke as many cigarettes as I wanted, just as long as I only smoked cigarettes and nothing else. 

In June 1999, after a car accident nearly caused my death, I was awaked into a new light and mindset. Still smoking cigarettes, going to church and attending local exercise classes, my perception to things was different.  

After 4.3 drooling months of battling a disconnect of me headspace and my Mind Body Spirit connection being in OFF mode, I was turn on with more voltage and internal power than ever before. 

In October 1999, 2.5 weeks after I was forced to drop out of high school, I was blown away that something so big, and active was living inside of my head. I asked myself, how could this tumor, be so unkind to just appear out of the blue and say, “That’s it Lady, POWER OFF.” 

I was a senior in High School, passionate about hospitality, working for Marriott hotels 23-28 hours a week in front office operations and selling shoes at Nine West 13-17 hours/week M-F. Marriot was a Fri-Sat-Sunday job with Holidays for  the additional overtime. After my accident, I lost my job at the shoe store however Marriott loved my positive energy and life force I expelled to guests while they checked in, even when I couldn't see over the front Desk front sitting in a chair from Pain. Although I felt much loved at this hotel, I would soon be discharged from here as well. 

October 24th, 1999, after my first attempt to get my GED, the equivalent to a High School Diploma, I failed. I felt horrible with my life. I had no job because of my disability, I quit high school and barely saw my friends, no driver license because they were taking from me by the State of Ohio for safety of other drivers and I was smoking 2-3 packs of cigarettes a day. How was I able to come out of this mess and go from SURVIVING to THRIVING?                           It certainly wasnt some Miracle pill or Reconstructive Surgery that changed me from the outside to inspire my inside......  It came from within me! How I looked at the physical things around me, how I gave thanks to everything, even a bird dropping its poo poo on my head while trying to sunbathe next to my neighbors pool, or having a check for $3.84 bounce over a pack of cigarettes. What taught me the greatest life comeback in these scenarios.

It was a wet and muggy Wednesday morning in October, the 27th to be exact, when my mom dreaded waking at 745am to take me to get a second opinion from a doctor at the Cleveland Clinic office near my small hometown. She had finished work at 1130pm the previous night to only arrive home around 1215am from the heavy rain that evening. My first appointment was at 830am. 

There were actually several appointments scheduled that day however my mom had to be at work by 1pm and wasnt able to take me to all of my appointments. After the first appointment, we decided to skip the potential MRI and take me to grandma’s house. 

For the next 9 months, until June, the summer of 2000, I stayed with grandma. It was a much happier place to be. Grandma had 3 fun loving dogs, a pool with a beautiful wooden deck big enough for 5-7 lawn chairs, and my aunt Kathy living within walking distance. Kathy smoked and she was more like a smoking buddy. I was able to make some money mowing yards for the neighbors and helping grandma with the house and her dogs. In June, I got my driver license back and went on a mission to find a job that would give me independence away from everyone! It was the greatest stepping stone into womanhood I could've ever taken. 

After attempting to retrieve my job with Marriott and being unsuccessful, an amusement park on the lake outside of cleveland contacted me for a summer job at one of their hotels in the park. Cedar Point is the PRIME ROLLERCOASTER park in the USA. Without hesitation, I took the job and moved 2.5 hours away in a cabin villa with 2 other girls, for the summer. 

Cutting to the chase... at the end of the summer, I felt like i was ready to go back to school and try my HSD again. It didnt take long to see that, this wasnt supposed to be the option for me. 

August 2000, just days before school was to begin, mom and I, her friend Cheryl and our long time neighbor were shopping for school supplies at our local Staples Store. Cheryl had MS and I took care of her also. Without her with us, my mom would've been in the Emergency room. 

As we were walking out of the store, I started to dauntingly walk a different direction than my mom and Cheryl. Completely disconnect from the world, my mom said she continued to yell at me but I didn't listen. Was I not listening or did I not hear her? 

In the moment when my mom gently grabbed my right shoulder to bring me toward our truck, I physically attacked her, bruised her face and she fell on the ground. Immediately she got back up and “started calling me names”, Cheryl said. Before we got to the truck, I came out of this brain freeze and began to ask my mom “Oh My God, what happened to you?” 

You can imagine my mom’s confusion, frustration and contemplation as to why I seemed to disillusioned to the event. This object in my brain was moving again and this time caused a disconnect that changed my life traumatically, with myself and my mother. 

A week before my Mom’s birthday, September 4, school had only jut begun and I was doing good until the long 3 days weekend for Labor Day. Labor day is the 1st Monday in September and my mom’s birthday happened to fall on that day however our doctors office was closed. 

The very next day, with a luck of the draw, Dr Angerman, who I saw the previous years, had a slot open at 9am which my mom booked me without question. The findings were what had been daunting me for more than 15 months. 

Ganglioglioma is low-grade tumor of mixed cell type. It is a type of brain tumor that contains properties of both glial cells (responsible for providing the structural support of the central nervous system) and neuronal cells (the functioning component of the central nervous system). It is very rare!! Being rare was one thing but with the location being life threatening inoperable, my mom burst into tears with fears of what to do with me. 

My Ganglioglioma treatments included:               Neurosurgery – to remove as much of the tumor as safely possible; surgery is often limited due to the deep, central placement of these tumors within the brain                                                                                                     Chemotherapy – either before surgery to shrink the tumor or to kill cancer cells 

Radiation therapy – precisely targeted treatment to control local growth of tumors; not recommended unless the child’s tumor has re-grown due to potential long-term side effects of therapy.

Cleveland Clinic has some of the most highly acclaimed doctors and surgeons in the world. They are one of the best trusted hospital resources for Neurological, Cardiac and Pulmonary operations. With a higher success rate than any other hospital affiliation on the entire planet, Dr Angerman relaxed my mom and assured her that I was in heaven’s hands.  On March 12th, 2001, I became a successful survivor of this rare scare of a brain tumor however the end wasn’t close yet. 

After 3 days, I was released from Cleveland Clinic Neurosurgery in Cleveland, Ohio, with 100% full confidence by Neurosurgeon Dr. Morris, that I would recover with no problems. March 16th, while at my grandmothers house, I had a stroke. I was paralyzed on the entire left side of my body for 6 weeks until April 29th 2001...... 

Dr Morris did an amazing job at my surgery and was the first person and step that gave me internal hope that led to my wellness path to what I call HEALTH however, it was the energy practices of Yoga& Pranayama, which no one in my red neck town had ever heard of), Mindfulness, Chiropractic, proper nutrition and guided imagery that allowed me to transform my mind, come back in tune with my body and provide positive feedback that would change my life, inside and out, forever. 

It’s now 18.5 years later, Aug 2019, and my passion for helping people, inspiring wellness and Mind Body Medicine to everyone I meet, especially as a career, gains excitement everyday! My true meaning of HEALTH is Holistic Enhancements Aspiring Longevity Tranquility & Happiness. Because true health starts with me, not with money, a beautiful BMW, fancy vacations or diamonds... It starts at the HEART... tap deep within and you will win.... no matter what you are going through!

When we live life in a state of our own positive definition of HEALTH, whatever it may be, we are creating an art that is unique to us and us only, but its from the heart. Learn to BREATHE... and used the same formula components(letters) to BE HEART! 

Sorry for any typos...

Namaste, Good Night friends. 

[willbyington]

If I only had a brain...

Updated 5/22 - Y’all sure know how to make a guy feel loved!!! Thank you all for the comments, calls and texts! I was actually released today and am recovering the next few days at my parents house in Naperville.

So... here goes nothing. Get ready for a novel. I’m gonna start with saying 1) don’t worry (be happy) I’m fine and 2) sorry to any and all this will be a shock too... which is pretty much everyone other than some family, etc. If it makes you feel any better... this will even be an update/news to a lot of my aunts/uncles etc and again... sorry. That was my call and by design. And again... I’m great so don’t freak out. Enough on that, here’s the story of how my head was getting too big and something had to be done. Enjoy. Today... I had brain surgery. A very small one... small surgery, not brain... but one nonetheless. I’m ready for all the jokes.

Let’s start with how I got here. As all of you know and I’m sure are sick of hearing about... from late January to early March, I photographed 7 rock and roll cruises for my friends and the best clients in the world, Sixthman. Over that time, I took 98,500 photos and had an absolute blast documenting the best fans, friends and bands in the Caribbean. As many of you have said... best job ever... and it really kind of is. Fast forward to the last 3 days of the whole run... in the middle of the 311 Cruise. I woke up a couple days after photographing meet & greet photos of the entire ship with the band... and had full on 100% double vision.

As in... literally seeing two of everything. I really thought it was a combination of dehydration, exhaustion, hangover or some of all of the above. I thought I’d stay on the boat, sleep it off... and get back at it. That night came... I photographed bands, fans, etc and still had it. Same goes for all day Tuesday. I spoke with the medical staff on the boat to make sure I wasn’t dying... and all vitals were great. So I kept on working. When I closed one eye to get around or to take a photo... everything was normal. So shoot away I did. Man was it weird though. To anyone on the boat that I was a little off to or walked right past... sorry. Below you can get an idea of the final product and somewhat what I was seeing with two eyes open.

I flew home from 311 and went straight to my family doctor. That started a few weeks of doctors and tests. Long story not short... through an MRI... it was found that truly my head was too big. I had a non-cancerous benign pituitary adenoma... a tumor. I hope I typed that all right... basically the best part... NO CANCER... and it’s something 30-40% of society has in their head... you just never know about it till a random MRI or it does things like say... make you see double! If it had been smaller, we would have monitored it and I would have kept my little friend in my head. But because I’m an overachiever, was born in Texas and like to go big or go home... it was a macro one that had already impacted my vision and it had to come out. Again... a few people but very few knew this. Also... other than seeing double until the end of April... I felt 1000% and was ready to keep rocking and rolling. So with my doctor’s permission and approval... and no chance of worry (from him or me)... trust me... I made sure.... I went back to work with a little double vision corrected by closing one eye... so taking photos actually helped... over the next month, i photographed the Chicago White Sox Pride Crew, a corporate conference in Las Vegas, Cubs Opening Day, the Bon Jovi Cruise, The Murray Brothers Caddyshack Charity Golf Outing, a few shots at New Orleans Jazz Fest and finally Kid Rock’s Island Adventure before two great gigs back in Chicago this past weekend.

Almost everyone on all of those had no clue and that’s the way I like it. I’m stubborn like that. Again... sorry.

So here we are today and this note has rambled on way longer than it should. This is the part I’ll keep short. Today with the service of an excellent neurosurgeon and an ear/nose/throat surgeon (who actually graduated after me at WVHS) they made their way through my nose into my brain... and took out the tumor.

Everything seems to have gone great! I’m laid up in the hospital with more tubes and cords coming out of me than ever before but everyone is happy with the results so far. I’ll be here a day or two for monitoring but again... I don’t want your worries and no need to be sad. Life after 40 is an adventure, right? Rumor is recovery is fairly easy and other than no strenuous activities for a couple weeks (I avoid most of those anyway usually) Doc says I can be back photographing in days. Who needs a photo shoot? I gotta pay for this morphine and awesome hospital food somehow. Just kidding... I have insurance and it’s good. But I’m still ready to take your photos or sell you some prints!

A huge thanks to my parents and my sister and nephew for being here today! Meant the world to me.

So if you made it this far... I’m glad I could give you some entertainment now that Game of Thrones is over. Feel free to drop me a hello via email, Facebook, twitter or Instagram. And I hope to see you, my friends, all real soon.

Best, @WillByington