#or I could just run around on a hamster wheel for your amusement

[helixobesity]

I’ve never wanted to be smothered with a tumby by a feedee who tells me it’s all going to be okay more than I have the past few days. And I mean a fat fat tumby. Like serious slab of soft flesh and rolls, a real set of bahonkadonkers on top of a huge wobbly gut, a huge pile of flab and dabonkabonkaroos-

🌀💿🌀💿🌀💿🌀💿🌀💿🌀💿🌀

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 2

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw.

one.

Two. 二

It’s a week later, when you see him again. 

It's out on the winding streets near his house, on your day off. You’re taking a jog, when he roars by in his white Lamborghini, so close to your side of the road that you feel the pull of the wind off the aerodynamic car. 

He’s enjoying the feeling of power and control behind the wheel, before he sees you, in your workout clothes and all sweaty in the muggy summer heat. He feels a spear of possessiveness rip through him, and ultimately it’s the reason he slams on the breaks, whipping in reverse back to you, the supercar growling in agreement with his mood. “It’s too hot out here. You should use the gym in the house,” he tells you rather tersely. 

The only gym you know of in the house is his personal workout space–you hadn’t dreamed it could be used by the staff, hadn’t even thought to ask. When you just look back at him with owlish eyes, catching your breath with hands on your hips, he adds with annoyance, “And the roads are too narrow, people drive like maniacs. Someone might hit you.”

This is where you grin, flashing him an insouciant smile, but managing to keep your commentary on his own driving to yourself. “Thank you, Sir…” you pant. “But I like being outside.” There’s no better way to get to know a place, than looking at it while on foot. You love the lush streets of this neighborhood, the towering trees and greenery, the shining blue sea in the distance. It's way more interesting than running like a hamster on a treadmill.

Donaka, however, is not amused. He finds he hates the thought of other men seeing you running around in those tight clothes, looking so…edible...and sweaty. Your defiance only fuels his desire to exert his will over you. “It’s too dangerous,” he insists in a firm, authoritarian tone.

Maybe because it’s your day off, you feel braver than usual, but you just lift your eyebrows at him and smile. “It’s fine.” 

“I’ll give you a ride back. Get in.” 

The thought of putting your sweaty behind in your boss’s $500,000 car–even if it is ugly to boot–literally horrifies you. 

“I don't want to get your nice car dirty. I'll be home soon."

You finger wave, and jog off, hoping that will be the end of the exchange. 

With narrowed eyes he glares at your receding form in his rearview mirror. It’s the first time you’ve really defied him, and as annoyed as he is, he finds himself semi-hard from this interaction. He resists the urge to run you down and make you obey him. The thought actually makes him shudder to himself. 

He’d known you were going to be fun, but he hadn’t anticipated just how much.

He lives for the challenge of breaking the strong, and corrupting the innocent. It was looking like you were both those things, and by his reckoning–your days of independence were numbered. Soon…you would be his docile little pet, curled up at his feet.

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 156 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: baking something in the kitchen, most likely with apples again... xD

MARTIN: "You know, I- I’ve been wondering about your batteries. Like, could I just take the batteries out each time one of you appears, and just- have an infinite supply of batteries?" Lol, I wonder if this was just Jonny and Alex joking around about the tape recorders and then decided to put it into the podcast...

MARTIN: "Also, I know there’s every chance that you don’t even have any, and it’s just empty, and, well… I’m not really sure that’s something I want to confirm. Or, I open up your compartment and it’s like- meat, or maggots, or something." There's probably a little spider in there running inside a hamster wheel to get the power going xD

MARTIN: "I guess I technically have the power to make it not quiet, to, to talk to people, but like- you know, I, I also have the power to clean out the fridge, and it’s still a mess." Executive function is a bitch, isn't it?

There doesn't seem to be a Bright Lake amusement park in "our" Colorado... I looked for the name online, nothing. I looked for abandoned amusement parks in Colorado, also nothing that sounds similar or would have a similar closing year. Hm, idk, did I miss something?

"You will forgive me if I withhold his name, as I have all the verification I need to be sure he’s telling the truth, and I find it hard to believe any followup you would be interested in doing would be beneficial for him. He’s earned his anonymity." So is Adelard protecting the statement giver from getting the Archivist nightmares? “earned his anonymity” doesn’t sound like this is necessary about him still being followed by this manifestation.

"Based on his description, I would have called it a rave… but when I said so, he looked at me like I didn’t understand what he was talking about." Okay boomer xD

Hmm, there was only one other instance of starvation being addressed, right (MAG 58)? It is rather rare in our privileged first world, but there are so many countries were this is a very real threat to the people. Let alone that this is very real in the animal kingdom as well and fear of all living creatures counts. Adelard seems to be contributing all of this to the Flesh, but is a bit surprised by the level of famine itself...

"It was a scream from the roller coaster, but not the joyful cry of adrenaline and mock terror, but a dreadful, piercing wail, flying through the air. It seemed one of the riders, unable to properly benefit from the safety bar, had been thrown from the height of a loop, and was sailing through the air, landing on the unforgiving ground of the main avenue with a horrendous crunch." Oh no, Martin of all people has to read this when just a few weeks ago Simon playfully threatened him to throw him off a roller coaster...

"Our interloper had to look away, or risk being sick at the sight of so many spindly bodies swarming, biting, rotten teeth and swollen gums tearing at the still-twitching body of the unfortunate soul from the roller coaster." Oh that sounds horrifying...

"He tells me he was suddenly very aware of just how much flesh was on his body." Meat is me!

"If you do try to follow up with my source- and I know you have your own ways of finding him, should you wish- please be careful. He told me, near the end, that he had recently been worried he’s being followed. He keeps catching glimpses of a thin figure in the distance, or disappearing around a corner, and I can’t quite get past the detail that there was no reflection at all in the mirror he used to return." Ah, the same as in MAG 134 though. The statement giver has seemingly escaped, yet there's still a lingering manifestation following them.

Peter seems so cheery joyful and Martin only sounds tired, annoyed and resigned :/

MARTIN: (more subdued) "Right." (beat) "Will I be coming back?" PETER: "You’re not going to die, if that’s what you’re asking, but- no. If all goes well, you won’t be." So if Martin would have gone through with this, taken Jonah's place, he would have been tied to the Panopticon I guess. Like Jon in MAG 200 when he took his place as pupil of the Eye.

@a-mag-a-day

[bukojuiice]

— genshin boys as your college roommates who are head over heels in love with you

ೃ ft. childe, diluc, kaeya, zhongli, and xiao x gn! reader

ೃ 400-600 words per character!  ♡

ೃ warnings: mention of alcohol drinking ( but aside from that, just lots and lots of fluff!)

ೃ this is my very first writing contribution to the genshin fandom, so i hope everyone likes it!  after 5 months of playing genshin, i think it’s safe to say my brainrot for it has finally consumed me and i’m confident enough to brew something up! <3

ೃ genshin impact masterlist 

ೃ if you want to be a part of my taglist, answer this form! ♡

CHILDE:

– You and Childe are the perfect embodiment of the best friends to roommates trope. Whenever you wanna sleep in for 5 minutes more and you’re about to run late for your first class, Childe never fails to slowly drag you out of your bed, laughing as he does so. “Wake up sunshine!” is the first thing you always hear in the morning and you don’t complain if you get to hear his smexy voice anyway. He is a confident flirt and is not afraid to show you how much he cares or how much he pines over you. 

–  He’s always always there to save the day. There was a time when your classmates stood you up on the group project you were making, and guess who comes up to you with glitter, glue, and colored paper? Childe, of course! He stayed up until the wee hours of the night with you just so he can help you finish it. He even promises to set things in a “very civil way” with your absolute jerk groupmates the very next day. You practically hang out with him 24/7 as most of the time he just barges in your shared apartment with some amusement park tickets on hand or to some expensive yoga or judo class. There’s never a dull moment with him and with each passing day, the more you fall harder for him.

–  After a morning jog with him and seeing cute little dogs frolicking around with their married owners, Childe suddenly had the urge to adopt a dog with you.  But, due to a no pets rules established by the landlord, the two of you opt to owning hamsters instead! Childe named his hamster, narwhal (after his favorite animal of course!) whereas you named yours bunny, to match his irrelevant pet name picking. your hamsters both share the same house/cage and even they are pining over each other.

  –  His siblings visit a lot, especially Teucer. At this point, there was never a day the little boy didn’t ask when are you and Childe going to finally become “playground playmates” (a term for lovers that they use in second grade apparently) since the two of you are living with each other and seem so close. Childe is always able to successfully change the topic and shift away from talking about the shared feelings that the both of you have for each other. But, alas, the day had finally came to be and during your monthly trip to the amusement park, Childe confidently confesses to you on top of the ferris wheel.

“So... everyone in my life knows that you’re my best friend. Yea, that’s pretty cool and all but... Can we be more than just that (Y/N)? Is there hope if I think there could be something between us?”

DILUC:

– Diluc is your posh and rich roommate who sounds and looks too good to be true. The fact that you’re roomies with the literal heir to the country’s biggest wine and beverage company sounds like something straight out of a fanfic. But, it was of his volition to decide to live in a penthouse near Teyvat University. It was the doings of his step-brother Kaeya who tricked him into getting a roommate so that he won’t be alone for the rest of his college years... aaand that’s where you come in. practically barged into his life, but, you were a blessing. an angel sent from the skies.

–  He’s quite cold and unapproachable at first, only greeting you whenever he sees you but never bothered to engage in small talk with you. Even if the both of you go to the same university. It wasn’t until your second month as roommates, when you accidentally had too much to drink after a friends’ night out. You come home to see him in the living room, drinking grape juice from a wine glass, and watching a rerun of Hannah Montana. You practically collapse at the front door, he rushes to you and helps you up as you drunkenly confess to him in tears how you wanted to become much closer to him especially since the  two of you are going to spend the rest of your college years together. That was when Diluc realized how distant and aloof he’s been and vows to make it up to you.

– Diluc is very talented. Albeit in very discreet way, he makes sure to make use of his talents especially if it’s an opportunity to make memories with you. He is an amazing cook as much as he tries to deny it, He’s a secret virtuoso caught in 4k when you impulsively bought a guitar one time and you asked if he knows how to play, and he does so well. He practically serenades you in the most non-obvious way possible. Lastly, He’s very athletic. You invited him to play tennis one time, betting that if he won, you would do his bidding for the rest of the week. Before you could even blink, he wins. His “punishment” for you was that you accompany him in binge-watching TV Dramas. Grey’s Anatomy and Downtown Abby are just some of the shows the two of you would watch. It is absolutely adorable seeing him so invested in these dramas. and since the next on Diluc’s list were sit-coms, you were preparing yourself to answer his questions on the context of jokes that he didn’t get. In a poor attempt to flirt with you, he calls out your name and recites in the most Joey Tribbiani voice he could muster, “How you doin?” You were laughing so so hard that night because his pick up line actually worked on you and suddenly your realizations came full circle: you were very much in love with him too.

–  His naturally cool yet shy nature had always gotten the best of him.  He’s always wanted to ask if you wanted to carpool with him to school. Riding with him in his Tesla sportscar that goes 150 Mph? Heck yeah. However, it took quite a while before he could muster up the courage to ask you (4 months of being roommates until he finally popped the question) Since then, the two of you go home to and from University whenever you had similar schedules. Ever since then, Diluc had began to soften. His cold and hard facade slowly melted. Asking if you could help tie his floofy red hair then he’d let you play with it and let you style it in different ways. He takes you out on café dates during lunch breaks and take you out to watch a movie after both of your late night lectures. Everyone in campus thinks the two of you are practically together at this point. All that was left was to bare your feelings with one another through a fumbling and awkward confession.

“Words cannot not suffice these feelings I’ve been harboring for you since the very beginning. I L-like you a lot. Do you feel the same way too?”

KAEYA:

- Everyone loves Kaeya. Your friends and family, The School Faculty, The owner of the Convenience Store from down the street, The old lady who lives next door, The little kids from down the hall, and even the angry brown poodles from the farthest apartment to your right absolutely loved him. it was hard to keep up with having a roommate that not only were you crushing so hard on, but also had such a vibrant social life. Kaeya interacts and socializes with a lot of people and he admits that it does tend to get tiring at times. But, if these sacrifices lead to coming home to his cute roommate who has captivated his heart since Day 1, then it’s all worth it.

— Despite how warm and friendly he may seem, Kaeya is a very private person. He’s brought two or three friends like Jean, Lisa, Albedo, or Rosaria. But, only to discuss school affairs. He wasn’t the kind of person who trusts others easily, even if he was giving off the impression that he was a trustworthy and reliable person himself. He’d much rather spend time with you on days off from school. He may be a party guy on the outside (he insists he does it for future connections when he graduates) but he’s quite a homebody. Kaeya is the type to watch korean dramas and anime with you, go on late night convenience store cravings, and these always resulted in a perfect evening spent with him. When the both of you are fully immersed into the anime and things get a bit cozy, you rest your head on his shoulder, huddling for warmth.

— Kaeya would always come home with a little something for you. May it be take-out food, A trinket, a board game, an accessory, and even skincare products. The indigo-haired man is very particular about self-care and you bet that he’s bought different kinds of face masks, ointments, and even matching cute headbands just for the two of you! He’s very flamboyant and flirts with you a lot. Trying to impress you with pick up lines and suggestive jokes, but you always thought that he was just joking around because that was always a part of his personality. It was always a part of him. For Kaeya on the other hand, it seems to him that you don’t take him seriously and it's possible that you don’t return his feelings at all. He had to set things straight and it didn’t take long until Kaeya found the perfect opportunity to do so.

— With the help of practically everyone in the apartment, Kaeya is about to surprise you with a candle-lit dinner up on the apartment rooftop. His sly smooth-talking quickly convinced you that the both of you were just going to go out on your nightly convenience store trips. Your curiosity grows when he takes you by the hand, covering you with a blindfold, and whispering to your ear, “Do you trust me?” Gripping onto his hand tightly, the both of you go up some stairs and you reply, “Yes Kaeya, I do.” He slowly uncovers the shield from your eyes and your eyes sparkle at the sight of the candle-lit dinner, complete with jazz music, and a romantic view of the city.

“(Y/N)... You are the most precious person to me. I hope you can take me seriously, especially my feelings. I am saying this with my heart in my hand and with nothing but genuine love in my soul.”

ZHONGLI:

— Zhongli is truly husband material. You’re saying this as his friend, as his roommate, and as someone who’s absolutely smitten over him. He’s a third year environmental archaeology student at Teyvat University. Gentle, kind, and has nothing but wise and intelligent things to say. your lovestruck self can’t help but just admire him from afar, not knowing that he too has been entranced by you ever since you moved in.

—He's always the first to wake up in the morning. The first thing he does is make you a cup of coffee. He's got your favorite memorized, (Coffee with cream. Not to sweet and not too bitter.) The both of you own matching mugs, (written in colored scribbled letters, “The Wise Roommate” for Zhongli and “The Cute Roommate” for you.) He always wants to spend his free mornings with you. Both of you have different schedules so you never see each other at Campus and this was the only blissful time of the day you can spend with one another. Once you get home for dinner, (Zhongli is always the first to get home if he doesn’t stay too long at the library or strolling around the city) If it’s your turn to cook or if it’s his, he never forgets to brew you oolong tea after dinner. A perfect chance for the two of you to just talk the night away and engage in deep and meaningful conversations.

—Zhongli fell in love with you because you just quietly listen to him. Sometimes, you would share your thoughts and insights, even sharing your own personal knowledge that Zhongli had not known prior. You were one of the very few people in his life whom he could talk about absolutely anything with. Well, who wouldn’t listen to a handsome man who has a voice as smooth as butter? He is very passionate about his studies. Taking a lot of extra courses and spending a lot of money on his research. and so, most of the time, he spends all of his Mora on his extra studies (excluding the money he needs to pay for rent) and other interesting antiques. You understood why though. So, instead, you ask him to accompany you to do mundane chores. Going grocery shopping, doing the laundry and cleaning the apartment. He always helps in any way he can. The prying eyes of people around you and the old lady fr next door boldly coming up to you to ask if you and Zhongli were a married couple. You blush profusely whereas Zhongli coolly denies the woman's claims. It hurt quite a little but who were you to complain?

— It was during one of your night strolls with Zhongli. He had invited you out after dinner under the guise of wanting to have some fresh air and find a clear spot for the fireworks from a nearby festival. Your heart was thumping loudly to a non-existent rhythm, blissfully unaware that Zhongli was feeling a burst in his chest too. He clears his throat and his shoulders straighten. Zhongli puts his hand on your shoulder and breathes deeply. His cool and gentlemanly aura still radiating off of him as always. A wonderful array of colors fill the sky as his lips began to form the words he's always wanted to say:

"Tonight is beautiful isn't it? I thought that this would be the perfect time to open my heart up to you... You are a diamond in the rough that few see the beauty of. My beloved– Will you accept my feelings?

XIAO:

—  Having a popular twitch streamer as your roommate was a one in a million chance. Especially if you’re not even an influencer or internet figure yourself. But, how did this come to be? Why have you developed a crush on Xiao aka VigilantYaksha without knowing who he was? A gamer with over 6 million followers on different social media platforms? Simple, a high-end apartment near Teyvat University had a special discount if you were willing to be roommates with someone. It’s an amazing deal, near your school, cost-efficient, and you believed the 10% chance of scoring a hot roommate as seen on reality TV and romantic comedies. It was like rolling through a Gacha Game and getting a 5 star character. As that “character” is soon to be revealed as Xiao.

— Things started off rocky at first. On your first day, he flatly welcomed you by the door, introduced himself, then quickly retreated back to his room. As soon as you locked eyes with him, he gave off a certain cold and unfriendly aura. You wanted to get to know him better. Maybe with a little love and care, he could open up to you and you could become friends! That same day, you had mistakenly thought of your room as his and you walked in on him streaming a horror game. He wasn’t spooked by the jumpscares. But instead, he was looking at you in horror because you’ve just exposed yourself to thousands of people. You wave at the camera, apologize, and left. Since then, his fans, (called the Anemo Tofus) have been shipping the two of you together. Creating fanfiction and fanart of Xiao and the mysterious roommate that accidentally walked in on him. They practically begged Xiao to at least talk a little bit about you, to which, he declined. When you surprised him with dinner (as a little treat since this was your first week with him) He sits across the table from you, his eyes gazing deep into yours, as he pops the question, in a very tsundere tone: “Would you like to appear in my streams? T-the Anemo Tofus wanna learn more about you. B-but, if you don’t want to, it’s alright! You don’t have to-” You cut him off before he could continue his doubts, “Xiao! What are you saying? I’d love to!”

  —  There was something blossoming between the two of you after that particular dinner with him. Starting with your first “roommate video” that you had thought of when you were brainstorming for video ideas. It was an Almond and Mapo Tofu mukbang whilst the two of you answered questions from fans! The viewers noticed how visibly comfortable he was around you despite his usual reserved attitude. He was cracking up a lot more sarcastic and self-deprecating jokes whilst Tofu filled both of your mouths. Outside of the confines of social media and inside the comfortable space that was your apartment, you and Xiao grew closer. Wearing matching hoodies, going on midnight snack runs, playing in arcades, and stargazing with him up on the rooftop as you contemplate about life and talk about the mysteries of the universe. There were times when you would stay up late doing school works and would accidentally fall asleep on the sofa. Xiao would come out of room because he periodically had cases of insomnia. When he sees you on the sofa, he can’t help but smile at your sleeping figure and admire your beauty. First. he brings all your clutter back to your room then slowly picks you up from the couch, into his arms, and brings you back to your room. He places a blanket on top of you and your stuffed plushies next to you so you can hug them any time. 

— On a particular night, you fell asleep on the sofa once again and begun to  have recurring nightmares. Xiao was there to witness you whimpering, muttering to yourself, and shivering to a mental image that he could not see. (He wishes he could erase all the pain that these nightmares were giving you) You subconsciously grab onto his hand, murmuring to yourself: “Xiao, please don’t go.” He whispers back, “I won’t.” Your nerves slowly relax when you feel the Yaksha squeezing himself to lie next to you on the couch. Holding onto your arm, he continues to reassure you that it was going to be okay. You grab onto him, hugging him from behind. He feels your heartbeat revert back to it’s normal pace and you return back to your peaceful slumber. “I’ll always be here for you, (Y/N). I’ll be here to protect you. Forever and always.”  Turning to you to plant a kiss on your forehead, you nestle your head on Xiao’s chest. He watches as you cling to him for love and warmth until he is slowly whisked away by his weariness, rewarded with a peaceful sleep he hasn’t felt in a while.

“And they were roommates.”

[saltwaterconfessions]

me @ me: please just write your bang fic

also me: no i need to write manic they/them harrow haircuts :)

inspired by @jeannemarythefourth's post here! and it's 1369 words long.

Harrow’s coming up on twenty hours awake after six hours of sleep and they’re pretty sure they’re going to vibrate out of their skin if they have to sit at their computer one second longer so naturally they’re going to shave their buzzcut back down. Right now. That’s what one does after midnight when their dumb body isn’t cooperating. Obviously.

The clippers live in the drawer under the sink - Harrow rolls their eyes at all the ginger hair strewn in its bag. (Conveniently, the lining is black, so their hair blends in. It’s definitely there whether they see it or not.) They unwind the cord and plug it in. Their hands are definitely not shaking. It’s fine. They’re fine. The right guard is already in place, so they flip the on switch.

It’s nice to have the clippers’ familiar buzz and weight. It’s steadying. Feeling them go through their overgrown hair is even better. For the first time in a solid eight hours, Harrow feels like they can breathe.

“Harrow?”

Goddammit. The electricity living under their skin bursts back into life at the sound of Gideon’s voice. They glance over with raised eyebrows instead of an answer.

“Dude, it’s like two in the morning, what are you doing-” Ah, yes, the romantic usage of dude and a strategic sigh. Harrow’s partner is well-versed in their bullshit. They snap off the clippers and put them down to do a brief rub-down of their hair, shaking the loose strands onto the floor. “Harrow,” Gideon says, now in her patented Please, I Love You, But What voice.

“I’m cutting my hair,” Harrow replies, gesturing at everything they’re obviously doing. “Duh.”

“Can I ask why you haven’t come to bed like a regular human being?” Gideon smooths down the sharp edges of her question by stepping close. She puts her careful hand on the back of Harrow’s neck, thumb stroking along the tense muscles. Harrow feels like they could melt into her. “Have you taken your meds?” she asks, gentle but pointed.

“Yeah, no- don’t worry, I did. But I may have overcaffeinated and forgotten sleep was an option,” Harrow mumbles, the live wires in their body suddenly more agreeable to rest if Gideon will keep touching them. Their brain has turned into a hamster wheel, alright? Sometimes their first instinct is still a raw self-reliance.

“Can I finish your hair?” Gideon asks, tenderly pulling a black tuft of hair off their shoulder. “Then we can sleep.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harrow manages. “You don’t have to.” Gideon meets their gaze in the mirror with a fond smile.

“I can’t have you running around with a messy shave,” she says. “It’d ruin your image.” She picks up the clippers and begins to clean up what Harrow couldn’t see or couldn’t reach.

Harrow watches her work in the mirror. They love Gideon with all of their awful heart. It was definitely A Choice to not go to bed, but well, here they are.

"I'll give you a fade next time," Gideon murmurs, still focused on their hair. Harrow remembers, not for the first time, that they make an especially queer and especially attractive couple. It’s maybe irrelevant in their apartment at 2am, but still! They like it. They also notice the bags under their eyes are especially dark. Hm.

“Okay, now you won’t embarrass yourself,” Gideon says, turning off the clippers and running her hand over Harrow’s head.

“Thank you,” Harrow murmurs, turning and reaching up to wind their arms around her neck. Gideon kisses them, soft and sweet.

“Want me to trim yours?” they ask, hand skimming over Gideon's undercut. It's not too long, but they know Gideon will forget until it’s shaggy.

“No, my evening star, I want to sleep,” Gideon answers with fond amusement.

Harrow buries their face in her shoulder, cheeks flushing, remembering the time. Gideon isn't a night owl at all. “Okay,” they sigh. “I'll sweep and come to bed.”

Gideon pulls them just a bit closer and Harrow nuzzles kisses along her lovely jaw and down her neck. They’re never going to be the athlete that Gideon is, but it is true that having something physical to focus on makes the hamster wheel of their brain fade into the background.

After just one more kiss that turns into multiple, Harrow goes and gets the broom; they come back and Gideon is wetting a washcloth. “Hey,” she says, squeezing water out of it. “Let me get the back of your neck so you’re not all itchy until you can shower.”

Their heart throws itself into their throat, begs to be offered up to Gideon in the only sacrifice that feels like it could even begin to be enough. Harrow blinks. Their hands tighten around the broom. Gideon raises an eyebrow and the brief flicker of concern is enough for them to lean it against the wall and let Gideon carefully wipe the stray hair off of their neck and shoulders. They again intentionally relax into her touch, reminding their weird shitty body that it’s a good thing.

“I love you,” they manage. “I know I’m- I’m a lot to deal with.”

Gideon snorts; for a brief second, Harrow considers driving their elbow into her stomach. Why would she laugh- “Sweet thing,” she says, and pulls Harrow into her body, tucking her head over theirs. Harrow looks up to see Gideon’s smile in the mirror. “You think I’d be happy with anything less?” She moves to press a kiss to Harrow’s sharp cheekbone. Harrow keeps looking, lays their hand over hers. “I love you too,” Gideon says, meeting their dark rose eyes. “I love you for all of you.”

Harrow is breathless. Maybe their heart stops beating too. Sometimes Gideon's love is still lightning bolt fresh.

Gideon adds "I'll say it as much as you need to hear it, sweetheart," as well as another kiss on their cheek. She straightens back up to check her work. "You're good. I'm going back to bed."

"Okay," Harrow answers, reaching again for the broom. It doesn't take long to sweep their dark hair off the floor of their tiny bathroom. They focus on the simple motions as a way to continue feeling grounded and present and a little less like their veins are live wires. Washing up and brushing their teeth does the same thing. They remember to be grateful for everything they have now, everything they didn't know they could have.

Gideon is on her phone, blearily scrolling, when Harrow finishes in the bathroom. “I thought you were tired,” they murmur. It doesn't take long to shuck their clothes and grab one of Gideon's soft shirts to sleep in.

Still, they turn around and Gideon is reaching for them. “I didn't want you to go back to working if I fell asleep,” she says, voice rough and sleepy. Harrow sighs as they let Gideon pull on their hips and tug them under the blankets, against Gideon's chest. "I like falling asleep with you," she mumbles, her forehead pressed to Harrow's sternum. One hand lays heavy on the line of their waist; there's nothing suggestive about the touch, but there could be. Harrow absently wishes, one more time, that it wasn't so late at night. (Maybe in the morning.)

Harrow rests their weight on an elbow, their other hand combing through Gideon's soft hair. "I know," they answer, voice low. "I like it too." They don’t move, not until Gideon relaxes almost into sleep and Harrow nudges her. “Scoot over,” they say, and she does.

Just so they can both get to sleep, Harrow moves to press their back against Gideon’s chest. She says a very soft, sleepy goodnight and Harrow finds her hand, kisses her palm, fidgets only a little bit.

Gideon slips into sleep so easily. Harrow would be jealous if they didn’t feel bad for waking her up in the first place. Her body is curled around theirs, possessive arm draped over their hips, chest moving evenly with her breathing. Harrow matches the steady rhythm, focuses on her warmth and solid weight. They still feel disjointed, put together wrong, but by the time sleep does claim their weary body, they feel grounded.

[kasienda]

The Five Minute Adventures of Snake Noir: Ch 6 - Miraculous Abuse

Chapter 1: I Want It To Be You

Chapter 2: Best Friends

Chapter 3: Best Laid Plans

Chapter 4: A Thank You

Chapter 5: Unwanted Revelations

Chapter 6: Miraculous Abuse

If Adrien had avoided using the snake before, he now was operating on the other extreme. Ladybug had told him to abuse it, and he’s not sure she would have meant it quite so literally, but well… he and Nino had come up with a list. 

It had started with his homework. If he could finish his homework in far less time, he’d  have more time to visit Nino and Marinette. Not that it took a lot of time to visit Marinette as it was usually a loop, so even if he spent hours with her, it never took longer than ten minutes as far as the rest of the world was concerned. 

He unfortunately couldn’t do all of his homework in a time loop because that would leave whatever he had completed in the last five minutes erased. But he could do all the reading, researching, planning, and studying in a loop. Anything that didn’t require him to write anything down. 

Nathalie had only walked on him transformed once. 

“Yes, Nathalie?” he had asked, without looking up from his textbook. He hadn’t even thought about it. 

She stood stock still and was dead silent. He glanced towards her with a frown - her eyes were comically wide, but that was the only sign that she was shocked. He glanced down, and remembered he was transformed at Aspik. 

Read on Ao3

“Oh shit!” 

But it had been easy enough to fix. He just reset, destranformed, waited for Nathalie to come in and deliver his schedule changes for the week and leave, and then he transformed again. 

And then Nino had realized if he could pack all of his studying into the space of five minutes, Adrien could surely squeeze in some well deserved leisure time as well. 

It only took 71 loops to read a hundred thousand words, and Adrien had long ago discovered the joys of fanfiction, but he had never really had time to read more than a bit here or there. Now? With unlimited time and an entire endless library of things to read based on his favorite games and anime? Let’s just say his current power set brought a whole new meaning to the phrase, “Just One More Chapter.” 

And a season of anime was only 119 loops. Hell, he had gotten through all 981 episodes of One Piece in 4532 loops, which was still nothing compared to his time as Aspik, and honestly, far less traumatizing. 

He had felt slightly guilty about it. He was literally using the powers of time travel to watch anime. 

But when he mentioned it to Nino, his friend had just rolled his eyes. “Dude! You’re thinking about this all wrong. You’re a hero and we need you to be okay. This is about avoiding burnout as much as it is about having a good time. It’s so you get enough of a break and enough sleep to be a competent hero that we all need!”

But eventually the stories and shows hadn’t been enough to hold his attention. And he took another of Nino’s ideas and started paying visits to several of his friends. 

He had gone to Kagami first. He had no expectations of healing things with her, but he had always wanted to be able to explain so that his apologies might mean something.

“Chat Noir? Is there an akuma?” she asked by way of greeting. 

He rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Ah, no. I wanted to talk to you about something, but I also have to erase your memory after the fact to protect identities. Are you okay with that?”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “You have piqued my curiosity. You may proceed.” 

He nodded. He had already activated his power before he had landed in her bedroom that was definitely as lavish as his own if not quite as spacious. 

“So… more than anything I wanted to apologize to you?”

She frowned. “I’m unaware of anything that you have done that would require an apology.”

“Kagami, I’m Adrien.”

Her eyes went wide for a second. “Ah, I see.” Then, she nodded. 

“That’s it?” 

“No, it makes a lot of sense.” And then she did something he never would have expected. She smiled. And most of his tension released. 

“I just wanted to explain now that I had the ability to. That I wasn’t ever lying to you or running from our dates because I wanted to.” 

“You had to sacrifice your own desires for a higher calling.”

“Yeah, that’s it exactly.”

She smiled at him again. “I appreciate you coming to explain and I understand completely why I can’t remember. May I ask you a question?” 

“Of course!” 

“Were you never in love with Marinette?”

“Well, I… uh… it was hard to see Marinette when I was completely enamored with Ladybug, but…”

She shook her head. “Are you in love with both of them now?” 

“I mean, sortve?” He knew Kagami hated when he ended every sentence as if it was a question. “They’re the same person.”

Kagami sighed. “How disappointing.” 

“Disappointing?! She’s amazing!” 

“I know, but if she’s Ladybug and you’re Chat Noir, I have never had a chance with either of you.” 

He felt like he had been thrown off a cliff. “What? You had feelings for Marinette?” 

She grinned. “Well, she is amazing, as you always say. At least I know that I have really good taste.”

“Well, I’m sorry to have ruined all your prospects.” 

“I will survive. Neither of you define me as a person.” 

“You’re pretty amazing, too, you know,” he told her sincerely. 

She nodded. “You honor me.” 

He laughed. “Kagami, please don’t get all formal on me. I’m still just me.” 

“Well, I hope you know that I appreciate all that you and Ladybug do for the city,” Kagami told him, ignoring his request.

“Thank you, Kagami. That means a lot coming from you.” 

She nodded in acknowledgment and he knew he was being dismissed, and then he slid the switch on his bracelet and he was on the roof of her family’s manor once again his heart a little lighter.

He had gone to Alya after that. He had been nervous since she was the one who tended to push him aside as Chat Noir. But his fears proved to be completely unfounded as for the most part she could never stop laughing whenever he revealed himself.

“Wait! You’re Adrien?!”

She burst into cackles immediately. 

“Why is that so funny?!” He has demanded the first time. 

She had just grinned, shaking her head and still chuckling. “I wish I could explain it to you, sunshine.” 

“I already know Marinette is Ladybug,” he said.

“Oh good! Then I don’t have to be panicked about accidentally slipping!” And she went back to rolling on the floor laughing. 

“You wouldn’t happen to already know Marinette’s other secret would you?” she asked.

His eyebrows scrunched together under his mask. “Umm… that she’s in love with me as Adrien?” 

Her face lit up. “Oh see!! You do get it!” 

He shook his head. “I do not get it.” 

“The two of you managed to get yourself in a love square. You’ve been chasing each other around like two cute little hamsters in hamster balls.” 

He sighed, far less amused than Alya at the current state of his Marinette’s relationship. “I’m really glad someone is getting some joy out of this.” 

“Hey!” she objected. “I’m only going to know this for another three minutes! Let me have my fun!”

He held up his hands in surrender, and he was smiling in spite of himself. Maybe some time in the future, after he and Marinette could be together, it would be funny to him, too.

“God! This is why it feels like I’m third-wheeling during akuma fights,” she exclaimed.

“You feel like a third wheel?!” he repeated in disbelief. “Have you seen the chaotic energy that is you and Marinette coming up with a plan together? I am definitely the third wheel in that situation.”

And then she was cackling again. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed. “Nino says I can be a bit of a bulldozer when I’m trying to find a solution to something.” 

“That’s putting it mildly,” he said dryly.

All the mirth fled her face and she looked at him in concern. “Hey, you okay?”

He nodded. “It’s not like I’m allowed to be anything else.” 

“No, don’t say that! You’re allowed to be upset with me! I deserve it sometimes.”

He shook his head. “I’m never going to hold your ability to defeat an akuma against you. I just… have felt a little unneeded lately,” he admitted.

She stared at him for a second and then she burst into laughter again. 

And despite still not getting it, he found himself chuckling, too. Her laughter was just that infectious. “Why do you find this so funny?” he asked. 

“Because you’re a literal superhero and a model with more money than god, and a heart of absolute gold. You work with her as Ladybug so well I have to deal with crazy conspiracy theorists on the Ladyblog  who think the two of you must be telepathic aliens!” 

“What? People don’t think that.” 

“They do! And it’s annoying. But my point is you’re the real deal, Agreste, and she’s crazy about you, and you know it, and yet you still manage to doubt yourself.” 

“I’m glad my struggles and hang ups are so amusing to you,” he said with a pout. 

She sat up and fist bumped his shoulder. “Aww! Sunshine! I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, your insecurity makes you seem sweeter and cuter. And it makes you seem more human. I don’t mean to mock you in any way.”

He searched her face and only found open sincerity.

“Thanks, Alya.” 

“So, does she know that you know?” 

“I mean, she doesn’t right now. But I’ve told her. Many many times, but it was just like this and she doesn’t remember.” 

She softened. “That sounds difficult.” 

“It’s apparently better than the alternative,” he said, going for nonchalance, but he didn’t fool her if her scooching to sit right next to him was anything to go by.  

“I wish we could all fix it for you, Adrien.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“How are you?” 

He shrugged. “I’m okay at the moment. Some days are worse than others. Nino… Nino has been a godsend.” 

She smiled. “He is pretty amazing. He knows outside of a loop?” 

“He does.” 

“I’m glad you have that, Adrien. Marinette was falling apart at the seams before she told me.” 

“Does he know about Marinette?” Adrien asked. Sometimes, it seemed like Nino knew more than he was letting on. But maybe his friend was just really respectful of secrets and didn’t ask questions.

“Not from me! And he hasn’t told me about you being Chat Noir either.” 

Adrien glanced toward the window. 

“Does it bother you that there are secrets between the two of you?” he finally asked.

“No, not these ones. They’re not our secrets. They’re yours, and they’re Marinette’s, so they’re not ours to share.”

“I'm jealous,” he admitted.

She offered him a sympathetic smile. “Someday, you won’t have to be anymore.”

The Snake beeped it’s first warning. “Time’s just about up.”

She offered him a fist bump and then a hug. He reciprocated both. “I’m glad you stopped by, Sunshine. You’re always welcome any time you think my particular brand of company is something that would help you.” 

He grinned. “Thank you, Alya.” 

“I look forward to the day when all four of us can just be open about everything,” she said. 

He snorted. “You and me both.” 

His went to his bodyguard next. 

“I just wanted to apologize to you for always running off. I don’t mean to make your job harder or get you into trouble. I am literally running away to save the city.”

His bodyguard didn’t say anything. He never said anything. He had just let out a resigned sigh and then patted Adrien’s shoulder. 

Adrien took that as forgiveness and reset the loop. There was no sense in sitting there in awkward silence for another four and a half minutes. 

When he had told Nathalie one afternoon at her desk outside her office, she looked horrified - frozen as still as a statue trapped in Medusa’s gaze. 

“Nathalie?” 

“I… all this time?” she whispered.

“Yeah. I know it’s a lot. I know it causes you a bit of grief when I disappear.” 

She waved away his concern. “Right now, we’re in some kind of time loop and I won’t remember?” 

“But you will,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” he confirmed anyway. 

“Adrien, I need you to listen to me.”

He nodded. 

“I can never find out. Your father can’t either. If you need something because you’re hurt or cornered, or…” she trailed off.

Was she crying? 

She cleared her throat. 

“Go to your friends. Their parents. Just… not your father, okay? Or me, because I’d have to inform him.”

His brows furrowed together in confusion. “Okay?” It wasn’t hard to to agree despite how weird she was being. He knew Paris needed him and he also knew that his father would never let him continue. Especially if he was seeking help due to an injury or something.

That’s what Nathalie was referring to, right? 

She patted him on the shoulder. It was even more awkward than when his bodyguard had done it. 

“Adrien, you’re quite impressive as a hero.” 

“Thank you,” he said with a smile.

And then there was Marinette. He had learned that it was impossible to tell her he was Adrien without making her cry, which was frustrating because she was also so much more open and affectionate once she knew. 

“How do I get you to not breakdown when I tell you this?” he asked her seriously.

She laughed through her tears. “I’m sorry, kitty. I have no idea. It’s just… it’s not fair.” 

He smiled. “That’s what Ladybug always says,” he told her casually. She didn’t know that he knew this go around.

“She’s right! You deserve so much, and life… it’s not fair!”

He turned to her seriously. “I don’t need life to be fair, Mari. I just… don’t want to have to wear a mask all the time.” And then he smiled. “I’m glad that you’re okay with me doing this.” 

She nodded tearfully. “Anytime, Kitty. Anytime.”  

Then during a regular patrol at one point. He had just realized he wanted to make her laugh. So he spent another few hundred loops figuring out which jokes made her laugh the hardest and which ones were absolute duds. Then, on a day when she was having a hard time, he showed up on her balcony and gave her the best one hour comedy of her life. 

Her unrestrained laughter was so explosive she had literally fallen out of her chair. Totally worth it. 

“Thank you, kitty,” she said wiping the tears induced by her laughter. “You have no idea how much I needed this.” 

He hadn’t argued. “Of course, princess. I am always at your service!”

Then, he started working on the perfect confession. He was trying to see if he could get her to kiss him as Chat Noir without revealing his identity because, you know, that always made her cry. 

“Can I use the snake to ask you a very important question?” He has asked Ladybug on patrol. 

She nodded, and he activated it. 

“What do you think it would take to get you to kiss me?” 

She laughed. “Are you serious right now? That is your very important question?” 

“It is,” he nodded, but offered her a huge grin so she could take it as a joke if she wanted.

“Why? You haven’t been able to be successful yet?” she teased.

“Oh no! I’ve been super successful. All I really have to do is tell you my name.”

She scoffed.

“No, I’m serious!” he boasted with a huge grin splitting his face knowing she only half believed him.

“So, why don’t you just do that?” she asked seriously. 

“Because you always cry! And I don’t want to kiss away your tears. I want to make you smile.” 

She got quiet. “You know, we can’t be together right?” 

“Yeah Marinette,” he whispered. “I know that really well.”

 It was silent.

“How long have you known?” she asked softly.

He had no idea how to answer that question. Because time was now very weird for him. In one sense he had only known for a few weeks, on the other he had literally spent so much time in loops that it had to have been at least twice that at this point. Maybe more.

“A while,” he said. “But we’ve already talked about that to death. I’d much rather figure out how to get you to fall desperately in love with this half of me.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “You want me to fall desperately in love with you in five minutes?” 

He shrugged. “We have a solid foundation of trust and friendship. I’m not starting from nothing. Plus, I’ve fallen in love in less than five minutes before.” With her. He didn’t think he needed to say that though.  

She actually smiled. “Yeah, I’ve fallen in love pretty fast before, too.” 

And it occurred to him that he had no idea what had made her fall in love with Adrien. He probably could ask her, but that was one more memory that he wanted her to remember having told him. 

He could probably just show up on her balcony as regular old Chat Noir and just say something like, “So, Adrien Agreste, huh?” She’d probably tell him, and she’d even remember it. But she wouldn’t know that it was him she was telling. 

How the hell had his life gotten so complicated? 

“There’s no way I would start crying just from knowing your name though,” she said. “You have to be making that up.”

He just turned to her and raised his eyebrows. 

The expression probably didn’t work as well with his transformation covering them. 

But she still hesitated. “There’s no way!” she exclaimed, but then she got a thoughtful look in her eyes. “Unless…” 

And then her eyes started welling with tears.

And he almost laughed. But he managed to hold it back.

“Oh, come here, bug,” he said instead, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her to him. And he just held her as she shook silently. 

“It’s not fair,” she whispered. 

“I know,” he said, and then kissed the top of her head. “I know.”

“Do you see my problem now?” he said after another pause. 

And she laughed through her tears, which had been his intention, and he smiled.

She pulled away. “I’ve thought about it before, you know.”

“Thought about what?”

“Letting myself fall for Chat Noir?”

He hugged her tighter. “Yeah?” 

“It never seemed like it would be that hard. I think if it hadn’t been for Chat Blanc, it would have happened after New York.”

He laughed. “Really? New York was when I thought maybe I should ask out Marinette.” 

She looked up at him in horror. “Oh my god! We’re just perpetually screwed, aren’t we? We’re just going to keep missing each other over and over!”

He kissed her hand. “No m’lady,” he assured. “That can’t happen because now I know, and I can’t forget.” 

And then she was crying again, harder. “I don’t want to forget either.”

“I know,” he told her, kissing her hand again. “I promise it won’t be forever.” 

“I love you, Adrien.” 

“I love you, too.”

And that time, of the two of them, it was he who was stronger and able to slide his fingers across the reset. 

And he might have stayed in that loop far longer than he should have trying to figure out the way to the heart he had apparently already won.

He learned that she did enjoy his flirting whatever she said to the contrary, but the moments where he was vulnerable and genuine were the ones that seemed to move her the most.

But none of it was quite enough. If he wanted a kiss, he always had to tell her his name. 

But despite his failure, pulling himself out of that loop was the hardest thing he had ever done.

And that’s how he knew he was in trouble. 

… 

“Nino, you have to take this away from me,” Adrien said, holding out the snake miraculous. He had just arrived and released both his transformations. 

Nino took it, his eyebrows pinched together. “What? Why?” 

“Because I’m scared I’m going to go into a loop and I’m never going to come out of it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Look! Being here with you, with you knowing everything, is amazing. It’s the only time I feel like myself, unless,” he held up the bracelet, “I’m using this and… it’s getting harder to pull myself out of the loops.” 

“Your visits to Ladybug?” 

“Yeah,” Adrien admitted. “She told me to go every single day so I would remember what it was like to be loved,” he paused for a second, trying to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. “The problem is I really really like being loved.” 

And then he couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. 

Nino pulled him by the arm down to the ground and sat right next to him shoulder to shoulder.

Adrien buried his face in his hands. 

“For the record, dude,” Nino whispered. “You are loved even outside a loop with Ladybug.” 

Adrien threw his arms around Nino. “I honestly don’t know why you put up with me at this point. I feel like you have to put up with a lot.”

Nino grinned. “Hey! I happen to like hanging out with you! This shift has been awesome because I get to see you way more often.” 

“And I’m not like messing up date night with Alya or anything, am I?” 

“Nah!” Nino waves away his concern. “Alya and I hangout in the mornings and during lunch. Lately Marinette has monopolized her evenings.” 

Adrien managed to keep a straight face at that. “If you and her ever do need a day away from the children, I’m sure Marinette and I can figure out a way to take care of ourselves for a day.” 

Nino burst out laughing. 

“What?! I’m a big boy and Marientte’s a big girl. We can take care of ourselves.” 

Nino just shook his head, still snickering. 

“Maybe all four of us could do something some time,” Nino suggested, his eyes sparkling.

Adrien narrowed his eyes. Did Nino know? He knew he couldn’t ask without giving it away, and he had just handed over the snake. 

“That sounds really nice,” Adrien said, knowing he wouldn’t be able to handle going on a double date that he had to pretend wasn’t a double date. But someday. 

He wanted to cry again, but his eyes remained dry. 

“So, you just want me to keep it?” Nino asked, holding up the bracelet. “Should I hide it here in the room? Or wear it?” 

“Wear it,” Adrien said. That was the only way Nino would know where it was at all times. “But don’t use it. Not even for an akuma.”

He didn’t want Nino to ever experience a loop on the battlefield. Not if he could help it. 

“I reserve the right to come save your ass if necessary,” Nino said as he slipped the miraculous around his wrist. 

Adrien laughed. “Okay, but please don’t unless you absolutely have to. I don’t need Ladybug pissed at me for giving away a miraculous.” 

Nino frowned at him then. “Why are you giving this to me, instead of back to her?” 

Adrien’s answer to that was complicated. Partly because he didn’t want Marinette to know that his loops with her were hurting him even as they gave him hope, and he definitely didn’t want her to know that he had fallen to the point of being borderline addicted. 

But there was also a strategic element to his choice. He could approach Nino in either form, and Nino would know to trust him. 

“You know who I am,” Adrien finally said. 

“Will you be okay without it?” Nino asked.

Adrien shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m definitely not okay with it right now.” He paused, then looked at Nino. “I might be texting and calling you a lot over the next few days.” 

Nino laughed. “I can’t promise to answer right away all the time, but you can always do that, man. Always.” 

Adrien let his head fall onto Nino’s shoulder. “Have I ever told you that you’re the absolute best?” 

“I could stand to hear it a few more times,” Nino said. 

Adrien grinned. “Noted.”

…

Chapter 7: The Five Minute Adventures of Ananta

[skeeter-110]

Just Dropping in

Tony Stark was all alone. Which was fine, he knew that's how it was going to be when he purposely disappeared years ago. He was prepared to be alone once everything fell apart. What he wasn't prepared for, though, was a teen boy in red pajamas breaking into his apartment and bleeding out on his couch.

Remix of Apartment 43B by ironfamjam for the @irondadremix

Read on AO3

Tony was awake in a flash when he heard a loud crash and bang coming from his living room. He sat up in bed for a second, waiting and listening to try and figure out what the noise was.

It didn’t take long for him to hear footsteps shuffling around and for it to dawn on him that someone had broken into his apartment.

A thousand different thoughts began to run through his head as he scrambled out of bed; a thousand different scenarios of what truly could be happening.

Had someone found him? Were they here to kidnap and hold him for ransom? If they were they were going to be extremely disappointed when they realized that no one was going to actually pay to save Tony.

As quietly as he could, Tony grabbed the crowbar he kept in his toolbox - thankful that he forgot to put his toolbox back in his workshop - and began to creep down the hallway.

Tony was fully expecting to see a group of men trying to rob him of all he had, but what Tony wasn’t expecting was a body just laying there on his couch.

Carefully, Tony approached the person, holding the crowbar up in a defensive position just in case it was a trap and the person was just pretending so they could attack.

When he got closer though, it wasn’t hard to see what was wrong.

The Spider-Man that Tony has been seeing all over the news and internet - that Tony had been keeping recent tabs on - was lying there unconscious and bleeding out on his couch.

“Oh, shit.” Tony breathes out once the image clicks in his brain.

Tossing the crowbar to the side, Tony all but ran over to the vigilante’s side, looking him over to try and see what exactly was wrong. Although, the blood pooling around the guy’s leg and seeping into Tony’s couch was a big giveaway.

“Alright, guy, don’t punch me for this, but you need help and I can’t do that with your clothes in the way,” Tony mumbles as he turns the living room light on.

Spider-Man didn’t even stir as the light filtered through the room, which both settled and unsettled Tony; it settled him because at least he wasn’t going to have to strip this guy and fix him up while he was awake, but it also unsettled him because the guy could very well be more than just unconscious.

Slowly, in case he had a head injury, Tony took off Spider-Man’s mask - if you ever wanted to call it that - gasping a bit when he saw the man underneath. Or, rather, the boy.

“Ah, shit. Of course, he’s a child because why wouldn’t he be?” Tony curses before shaking his head to snap out of it.

Quickly and gently, Tony began to take the make-shift superhero suit off of the teen, stopping short when he got to the gear on the kid’s wrists. The scientist in him couldn’t help but look over the cartridges, noticing that they were now empty.

"Well, that explains the webbing. Somehow I don't know if it’s better knowing that stuff isn’t coming out of him or not.” Tony mumbles to himself as he continued to strip the vigilante, cringing when he got to the teen’s leg and saw that’s where the worst of it was coming from.

Tony got up and went into his bathroom, praying the kid would stay asleep while he grabbed his first aid kit. The last thing he needed was for the kid to wake up and freak out.

Tony was just thankful that he's had one too many late-night workshop accidents and knew exactly how to stitch someone up

“Stay asleep. Please, stay asleep.” Tony begs as he approaches Spider-man once again, hoping and praying the kid didn’t wake up while he was in the middle of putting him back together.

Tony continued to repeat those same words as he worked, thankful that whatever higher power that’s out there heard him and kept Spider-Man completely unconscious.

After checking the kid’s pulse and confirming that yes he was still alive and didn’t have any other life-threatening injuries, Tony pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch and used it to cover Spider-man up.

Tony stood there for a bit, just staring and marveling at how young the vigilante really was. Tony quickly concluded that there was no way the hero knew what he was doing and that he might as well help him out in more ways than one.

Going to the bathroom, Tony began preparing a whole separate first-aid kit for the teen to take with him whenever he left. He made sure to put everything the kid could need, hoping that it would be enough in the future.

Looking at the time after he finished, Tony sighed and began heading back to his bedroom, figuring that he might as well get a few more hours of sleep before having to deal with what would inevitably be one of the most disastrous mornings of his life.

*   *   *

When he woke up, Tony actually almost forgot completely what had happened a few hours prior. Almost.

That bliss didn’t last long though because once he was fully awake, the memories began to flood through his mind.

Tony just groaned and threw his arm over his eyes, giving himself two more peaceful seconds before forcing himself out of bed to check on the body on his couch.

Sure enough, when he got out to the living room, Spider-man was still lying there on his couch fast asleep.

Tony walked over to the teenager, checking his pulse one more time before going into the kitchen to start the coffee pot up. It was way too early to be dealing with any of this without at least three cups of caffeine in his system.

While waiting for his coffee to finish brewing, Tony tried to think about where to go from here. Should he wake the kid up? There has to be someone out there looking for him, right?

So many different questions and thoughts were running through Tony’s head, and not for the first time, the idea of getting charged for kidnapping crossed Tony’s mind.

After all, if someone really was looking for Spider-man, it would be extremely difficult to explain how he got in Tony’s apartment without some sort of kidnapping allegation popping up.

After finishing up his first cup of coffee, Tony figured that the kid was going to be asleep for a little while longer so he began heading to his bedroom - not without his second cup of coffee though - to get dressed and ready for the day.

Hearing groaning coming from the living room, Tony made sure to make it quick, walking back out to see Spider-Man staring down at his bandaged leg with confusion.

"Morning Spider-Man.” Tony greets, leaning against the entryway with a faux nonchalance. The teen in return let out a very childish manly squeal and tried to cover himself up more with the throw blanket Tony had given him.

Tony could help but snort in amusement as Spider-Man began to look him up and down. For a split second, Tony worried that Spider-Man recognized him from before he disappeared, but the moment passed when the kid’s eyes began to dart around the rest of the apartment.

“Who the heck are you? Where’s Harry?” Spider-Man questions. Tony just took another sip of his coffee, hoping that if he stayed calm about this whole thing then Spider-Man would stay calm also.

“I don’t know who ‘Harry’ is, but I’m Tony.” Tony introduced, staring at Spider-Man for a bit longer as he tried to decide what his next move should be. Anything that could avoid getting charges pressed against him by whoever “Harry” was. “But the real question is who are you? Considering you just broke into my apartment in the middle of the night and then passed out on my couch - you left an impressive bloodstain, by the way. It was pretty gross.”

“Oh my god.” Spider-Man groaned before burying his face in his hands. Tony watched the exact moment that panic began to set in Spider-Man, noticing when his breathing began to pick up a bit.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Crazier shit’s happened to me, trust me.” Tony tries to reassure, walking over towards the teen with his hands up, trying to placate him like he was some wild animal. Considering Tony isn't really around teenagers very often, he might as well be.

Spider-Man removed his hands, looking up at Tony with wide and slightly terrified eyes. Tony could understand why he was terrified, though.

Here he was sitting in a random man’s apartment, injured, and said random man now knew who he truly was. It was a terrifying situation, especially for someone so young.

“And don’t worry about your secret identity. I can keep a secret.” Tony adds, miming zipping up his lips and making sure to grin comfortingly after.

Spider-Man just continued to stare Tony down with a wary look before looking back down at his injured leg. Tony watched as the teen lightly touched the bandages before wrapping the blanket tighter around. Slowly but surely, Spider-Man looked back up at Tony and began to relax back into the couch.

Once Tony was sure the teen wasn’t about to have a breakdown he got up and went into the kitchen, preparing another cup of coffee. The kid sure looked like he could use a couple of cups.

“Thanks.” Spider-Man quietly says as he takes the offered cup out of Tony’s hands.

“I can’t survive a day without at least three cups so I can’t imagine what it’s like for a super kid,” Tony says just to ease a bit of the awkwardness and to have something to talk about other than the big elephant in the room.

"You’d be surprised how much energy I’ve got. My Aunt considered buying me a hamster wheel when I was younger just so I could run it all off. Now I’m more of a hot chocolate kinda guy.” Spider-Man jokes making Tony chuckle. The kid was charming, that’s for sure.

“Well, if you’re going to be stopping bad guys, all that pep must come in handy. A full stomach probably helps, you hungry?” Tony offers, figuring the whole conversation about “why” would go over a bit smoother if the kid had something in his system.

Instead, Spider-Man quickly threw his legs over the side of the couch and attempted to stand up.

“Hey, hey, you gotta go easy on that leg of yours. It’s very delicately put back together.” Tony says when Spider-Man ends up hunching over and hissing from the pain.

Quickly Tony sat his cup on the table and gently put his hands on Spider-man’s shoulders, easing him back down onto the couch. Once the teen was sitting again, Tony examined the bandage, noticing that blood was beginning to seep through it.

“Yeah, that probably needs to be changed.” Tony sighs to himself, thankful that he left the first-aid kit out in the living room last night. Tony had a sneaking suspicion that Spider-Man would try and escape if he was left alone.

Tony made sure to be quick when unwrapping the bandages, unsure if the sight would make the kid queasy; to be honest he didn’t want to find out. It was already bad enough there was a bloodstain on the couch, Tony doesn’t need to add throw-up to the mix.

“Wow. Mine never look like that,” Spider-Man says, admiring the work done on his leg. “Are you a doctor?”

“Oh, God, no. All that schooling? No thanks. I’ve just picked up a few things. Some of it comes in handy. Though, I admit, I never thought I’d be doing this.” Tony absentmindedly says, his main focus on cleaning around the stitching without hurting the kid.

“I’m sorry again.” Spider-Man apologies, although Tony wasn’t really focused on that because his words from a split second ago finally sunk in.

“Wait- did you just say you do this yourself?” Tony asks, a bit horrified at the idea of someone so young and untrained trying to professionally stitch themselves up.

“Only sometimes! And it’s fine because I heal really fast so it never really matters. I’m fine.” Spider-Man defends. All Tony could do was stare blankly at the teen, not even knowing where to begin with that one.

“I’m exhausted just hearing that,” Tony deadpans before returning back to Spider-Man’s leg. “And you’re lucky I got to this when I did. I don’t even want to think about you going at something as messy as this.” Tony says, shuddering a bit at the thought.

“Yeah… I’m sorry you had to deal with me yesterday. Last night was… it was really stupid. And I couldn’t get away without coming here. My friend Harry lives here and I thought I got the right apartment, but, obviously, I’m really bad at counting or something. It’s just - this place looks so much like his that I never even noticed.” Spider-Man rambles. Tony just sat there and listened with amusement, trying to take everything the teen was saying in.

“But, really, Mr. uh, Mr. Tony, it was totally an accident and I’ll cover the washing costs for your couch if that isn't too gross. I could buy you a new one too! But, that might take a while ‘cause it looks expensive and the paper pays me the absolute lowest they possibly can, but I’ll try my best.” Spider-Man continues, his tone of voice getting more and more frantic as he went.

“Woah, kid, take a breath. It’s fine. You’re fine. Who hasn’t broken into a stranger’s house and passed out on their couch? It’s a coming of age experience.” Tony tries to soothe, hoping his teasing tone would be enough to settle the teen.

“And don’t worry about the couch. All the furniture is a rental from the complex; that’s why your friend’s stuff and mine look the same. Guess we’re both too lazy to decorate ourselves.” Tony says, giving the bandages one last tug.

“Well, he just moved out of his dad’s place, so that was probably the last thing on his mind, to be honest,” Spider-Man explains, reminding Tony of why he never even bothered to get new furniture in his place.

Because when he first moved in here, when everything was falling apart and Tony wanted nothing more than to run like a coward and disappear, the last thing on his mind was getting new furniture also.

Tony quickly snaps out of the memory, taking care of the bandages around him.

“I bet he isn’t as good at making omelets as I am. You like peppers?” Tony pushes past the moment, standing up to go into the kitchen when something makes him pause. “And it’s Stark, by the way. Tony Stark. But you can just call me Tony.” Tony introduces, figuring that if the kid hasn’t recognized him by now, then his full name wasn’t going to make any difference.

“No, really Mr. Stark, it’s okay. I don’t want to bother you more. I already wanna die.” Spider-Man sheepishly refuses.

“I did not just patch you up for you to die in my living room,” Tony says before looking at the clock in the kitchen. “Besides, don’t you have school or something? You can’t be more than - what - fourteen?”

“Sixteen.” Spider-Man corrects, pulling an exasperated look out of Tony.

“Ahh, yes, the big difference between a child and a slightly bigger child.” Tony patronizes as he pulls out everything needed to begin making breakfast. “So, what’s a kid like you doing going around fighting crime anyway?”

“My, uh, my uncle died, a year ago.” Spider-Man answers, Tony pausing his slicing in order to turn around and face the teen.

“I’m sorry, kid. That’s hard.” Tony sincerely says watching as Spider-Man just shrugs it off.

“Yeah… it, uhh, it really sucked. Especially because I had already gotten my powers and I could’ve… I could’ve saved him. But I didn't know how at the time. And I just knew, at that moment, that I had to make sure something like that never happened again. I can’t live knowing that I had the power to stop something bad from happening and I chose to do nothing.” Spider-Man continues explaining.

Tony couldn't help but sadly smile, remembering all the things that he could’ve - should’ve - done sooner to stop so much damage from happening. But it was too late now. Way too late.

“Yeah. I get that.” Tony practically whispers before - once again - snapping himself out of his memories by turning around and beginning to crack some eggs into a bowl. “Well, I hear you make quite the impression. So I’d say you’re doing a bang-up job, Underoos.” Tony says, forcing himself to sound light-hearted as he poured the mixture into a pan. Now was not the time to wallow; wallowing was strictly a before-bed routine.

“I hope so.” Spider-Man sighs before realizing what he was just called “Underoos?” He squawks.

“You’re basically wearing PJ’s, kid.” Tony points out, smiling to himself when Spider-Man continued to protest.

“They’re- They’re not PJ’s!”

“If you say so.” Tony continues to tease as he plates the omelet, pouring a glass of orange juice to go along with it before walking into the living room.  

“Mr. Stark, you’re amazing. Thank you. I’m sorry.” Spider-Man stumbles over his words as Tony hands him the breakfast, causing Tony to roll his eyes in return.

“So, while you were comatose on my couch, I noticed your cartridges were empty. You make that webbing stuff yourself?” Tony begins to question once he was comfortable in the armchair with - yet another - cup of coffee.

Spider-Man just nodded, in the middle of shoveling the omelet in his mouth. Tony just whistled in response, completely impressed with what this teen was able to do.

“The tensile strength of that stuff is off the charts. How’d you come up with it?” Tony asks, once again not even bothering to keep the scientist in him from coming out.

“Trial and error, and error, and error,” Spider-Man begins to reply after washing down his food with the orange juice. “I’m good at chemistry and I get to hang around the school lab a lot so it’s easy for me to just,” Spider-Man continues to answer, miming pouring a bunch of things together.

Tony couldn’t help but bust out laughing, the realization of how ridiculous this whole thing was fully sitting in. Spider-Man really was a young child.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me the ‘Amazing Spider-Man’ makes his web-fluid in a high school lab ?” Tony asks, laughing even harder when the kid gave him a look as if he had just sucked on a lemon.

“It’s not funny! Where else am I supposed to make it?” Spider-Man protests, Tony just shaking his head as he tried to regain his composure.

“Well, what about you? It’s fully working hours and yet here you are.” Spider-Man points out as if he really was doing something there.

“Yeah. Here I am. In my own home that I pay for.” Tony replied dryly, only softening up and shrugging when he realized that he might have embarrassed the kid. “Don’t have anywhere to be today.”

“Well, what do you usually do?” Spider-Man asks and wasn’t that a loaded question. Tony smiled a bit as he ran through his head what he should say. He couldn’t tell the whole truth about working with the Avengers - not without giving himself away and defeating the whole purpose of disappearing in the first place - but he didn’t want to necessarily lie either.

“Let’s just say I’m an over-glorified mechanic. Or, I was anyway. Now, I just do my own thing. I fix people’s stuff.” Tony simplifies.

“Oh cool, like their cars and stuff?” Spider-Man asks as he continues to devour the plate of food. “My friend Ernest - well, he’s not really my friend, but he’s this guy I know ‘cuz one time these guys were holding his shop up and I went in like ‘Hey! This is automatically a crime!’ except they didn’t get it, so I wrapped up faster than usual.” Spider-Man rambles, pouting a bit when he brings up the criminals not understanding his joke.

“Yeah, they didn’t get it because that’s probably the worst pun I’ve ever heard.” Tony teases.

“Hey! You try coming up with good one-liners while fighting off three guys.” Spider-Man squawks.

Several memories began flooding through Tony’s mind -memories of multiple fights he was in, bad-mouthing all of the criminals - the man having to snap himself out of it before he got sucked too deep in it all. “I guarantee I’d still come up with better.”

Like the child he was, Spider-Man just stuck his tongue out in return before reaching down and setting his empty plate on the coffee table.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. I, uh- I really appreciate what you did for me. You didn’t have to, but I won’t forget it.” Spider-Man shyly voices his gratitude.

“Don’t sweat it, kid. And I know you won’t listen to a word of this, but be careful out there. It’s all fun and games until you get stabbed.” Tony fondly says as he got up. He quickly walked into his bedroom and grabbed the first-aid kit.

“I made you a kit. There are some instructions in there because sometimes you just really don’t have the spare minutes to go through pages of Google searches before you bleed out or something.” Tony explains as he walks back out of his bedroom. Sitting down next to the teen, Tony opened up the box and began to take out some wipes.

“Use these to disinfect your leg every so often and make sure to change the bandage or it’s really gonna suck. There’s also some stuff in here to stitch yourself up, but, I have multiple instructions - with pictures - so you at least somewhat know what you’re doing. I put some Advil in there just in case, but I’m not sure if it would work on you; it wouldn't hurt to try, though. And the Vaseline in here is for bruising. If you put it on a few minutes after the injury happened, it won’t bruise.” Tony rambles, wanting to make sure the teen had everything he needed.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. This is so cool. Thank you. But this is too much. I literally broke into your house and you’re being honestly way too cool about it; it’s freaking me out.” Spider-Man jokes, clearly extremely grateful even if he was trying to seem nonchalant about it. Tony just snorted and fondly ruffled the kid’s hair.

“I can’t in good conscience let you walk outta here without at least that. It’s bad for my heart condition.” Tony says, hoping that if he made it about him it would help the kid ease up on it. Although he quickly dropped the teasing and light-hearted tone in exchange for something a bit more serious so Spider-Man would listen to the next part Tony had to say and take it to heart.

“But if you’re ever in trouble, or you need a place to hide, or you’re too stubborn to go to a hospital like a normal person, you can always come back here.”

“I can’t do that, no, really. It’s okay. Thank you, though, Mr. Stark, but I’m okay. Really. This was just a fluke. A complete one-off, once-in-a-lifetime event. Promise.” Spider-Man adamantly refuses the offer, going so far as to even wave his hands to get the point across.

“You’ve already violated the sanctity of my door, what’s one more time.” Tony jokes, smiling when the teen buried his face in his hands.

“Mr. Stark.” Spider-Man draws out causing Tony to throw his head back and laugh.

*   *   *

Tony wasn’t actually expecting Spider-Man to show up again at his apartment. Not with how embarrassed and adamant the teen was that nothing was going to happen again.

Tony accepted that he was never going to see the teen again as soon as he was able to leave the apartment. All Tony could really do was hope that the kid was following instructions and was cleaning his leg like he was supposed to.

It wasn’t until late the next day when Tony was coming back home from work that he saw a sign of Spider-Man stopping by once again. Right outside on his balcony was a little plate wrapped up in saran wrap.

Curious, Tony walked outside and saw that Spider-Man had left him a plate of cookies while he was out.

Tony couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head, grabbing the plate and walking inside with it.

Of course, the kid would do something as silly and wholesome as leaving him a plate of cookies as - what he was assuming was - a thank you.

Tony took the cookies and put them in his own Tupperware so he could give the plate back, popping one of the cookies in his mouth as he did so.

Humming appreciably, Tony put the plate back out on the balcony before walking back inside and grabbing more bandages. Tony set the bandages down next to the plate before writing out a note for the kid.

You better be disinfecting that leg kid.

Tony figured he would get a kick out of that one, plus hopefully, it’ll drive the message home and make Spider-Man listen if he wasn’t before.

That was a couple of weeks ago.

Tony hadn’t heard anything else from Spider-Man, hadn’t even gotten a sign that the kid was around other than the fact that he took the plate along with the bandages. Which was okay. Tony prepared and expected this.

That didn’t stop him from worrying though. And, of course, his worry led him to the same place it always does; his workshop.

Every time he had another worry come up - like how he had no idea if the kid was still hurt, if the kid was alright now, or if he had gotten hurt all over again - Tony continued to add more and more to his project.

While he worked, Tony tried telling himself that Spider-Man not showing up in a couple of weeks was a good thing. It meant that the kid most likely wasn’t hurt and didn’t need Tony to patch him up. That thought was the only thing bringing him comfort.

Telling himself that working on his project was also a good “just in case” thing and that he most likely won’t even need to give it to Spider-Man in the first place helped comfort him also.

So, yeah, Tony wasn’t expecting to see the vigilante again.

Tony also wasn’t expecting someone to knock on his front door one random night.

Almost as soon as Tony heard the knock, he jumped up to his feet.

Several different thoughts began running through Tony’s head making him paranoid and switch between stopping halfway to the door and actually walking up to the door.

What if it was Spider-Man and he needed Tony’s help again? No, Spider-Man would have come through the balcony, he wouldn’t be knocking on the front door.

What if it’s Pepper? What if Rhodey is in trouble? No, Pepper wouldn’t come here and Rhodey still isn’t comfortable being out in public.

What if it’s one of the Avengers? What if they found him? What if Ross found out about him and what he did? About what he used to do?

Taking a deep breath in and steeling himself, Tony finally managed to push his body the rest of the way to the door, swinging it open.

Sure enough, Spider-Man was standing there in street clothes this time, holding his left arm in his hand.

“So, I, uh, I broke my arm.” Spider-Man greets as if the way his arm was limply laying wasn’t obvious enough.

“Yeah. I can see that.” Tony dryly says, still trying to internally calm down his racing heart now that he knew there was no threat. Tony stepped aside and waved Spider-Man in. “Come in, Spider-Kid. Let’s see what I can do.”

Spider-Man slowly shuffled inside, awkwardly walking over to the couch and practically collapsing once he reached it. Tony watched as Spider-Man’s breathing began to stagger, the adrenaline most likely draining from the kid now.

Tony gave the teen a sympathetic frown, gently taking his arm into his hands to look and feel where the break was and how bad it was.

“You’re gonna be okay, Bud. We just need to snap it in place. It looks like a clean break to me.” Tony tries to reassure. Tony continued to look all over the teen’s arm, trying to remember everything he learned about snapping a bone back into place.

It didn’t look like there was too much fluid building up, it wasn’t bleeding, and the bone wasn’t poking at the skin so it should just be a simple snap-it-in type deal.

“Ready?” Tony asks once he’s done analyzing everything.

“No?” Spider-Man hesitates, making a grin slip out of Tony.

“That’s the spirit,” Tony says, and that was the only warning Spider-Man got before Tony was snapping his arm into place.

Almost instantly, Spider-Man began to scream through his teeth, making Tony snap into action.

“I’m going to get you some water, just take it easy, Kid,” Tony says over Spider-Man’s deep breathing, quickly getting up and getting the kid a glass of water from the kitchen.

When Tony came out, the kid’s eyes were still closed, but his breathing was coming in short pants. Recognizing when a panic attack is about to start, Tony practically ran the rest of the way over to the teen and grabbed a hold of the teen’s chin so he had no choice but to look at Tony.

“Hey. Look at me. Breathe, one two three.” Tony begins to coach, smiling softly when Spider-Man followed his instructions, “There you go. You’re right here. Don’t go anywhere else. You’re right here.” Tony continues to soothe.

Spider-Man just stared into Tony’s eyes while he tried to calm him down, almost as if he would float away again if he looked away. Almost as if Tony’s intense gaze was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

Spider-Man’s breathing soon began to slow down, the teen eventually able to take in a long slow breath.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, his eyes slowly fluttering shut now that all of his adrenaline truly was gone.

“You can kick everyone’s ass except your own brains sometimes.” Tony sighs sadly.

“You get them too?” Spider-Man blurts out. All Tony could really give in return was a tired look, before agreeing because even just the thought of his almost daily panic attacks was enough to suck the energy out of him.

“Yeah.”

“Did they… Did they get better, though?” Spider-Man hesitantly asks, almost as if he was scared to hear the answer. Which should have been enough to tell Tony to sugarcoat his answer, but sometimes his brain and his mouth aren’t wired together.

“Not yet,” Tony says, being quick to amend his answer when he saw the teen’s face fall. “But that doesn’t mean anything for you, kid. You just keep working on it. And drink your water.” Tony instructs, smiling fondly when the teen did what he was told.

“You okay?” Tony asks after Spider-Man had a couple of sips and looked physically calmer.

“Yeah. I’m good. Promise.” Spider-Man honestly replies. Tony continued to stare at him for a little bit longer, debating on whether or not he should give the teen what he’s been working on recently.

“Well, are you ready for a surprise then?” Tony asks once he’s finally made his mind up.

“Surprise?”

“I made something for you. If you’re interested.” Tony clarifies, before grabbing the metal case that held Tony’s recent project.

“Really?” Spider-Man shouts excitedly, sitting up straighter on the couch before he begins to remember himself and quickly protests the gift. “Wait. You can’t give me anything! That’s-That’s too much!”

“Hush, child. Children should be seen, not heard.” Tony quiets, not really wanting to go through a whole song and dance just to get the kid to accept the case.

“Excuse you.” Spider-Man gasps dramatically, making Tony smirk before tossing the case onto the couch cushion next to the vigilante.

“Go on, open it.” Tony permits, trying to hold back his chuckle when Spider-Man just gave Tony a firmly disappointed look.

Despite being "displeased" with it all, Spider-Man still pulled the case into his lap eagerly, quickly opening up the top of the case.

As soon as the red suit inside popped up, along with all of the semantics that were surrounding it, Spider-Man gasped. The teen couldn’t take his eyes off of the suit, and when he did manage to look away, his eyes locked firmly onto Tony’s.

“Is this- Is this what I-” Spider-Man breathlessly stutters, Tony taking pity on the poor boy by cutting him off when it was clear that the teen’s brain had practically self-destructed.

“A brand-new, superhero-worthy Spider-Man suit, equipped with all sorts of anti-bad guy goodies? Probably.” Tony answers for the teen, a warm and proud feeling spreading through his chest when he saw the biggest grin form on Spider-Man’s face; although he made sure he didn’t show it, he refused to show his soft spot.

“Holy shit! This is so cool! This is literally the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life; oh my God! Ned is going to flip!” Spider-Man gushes as he pulls the suit out and examines it.

“I just thought about you running around in your glorified sweats and I couldn’t sleep. So enjoy the suit, kid. It has its own AI and everything.” Tony nonchalantly says as if that wasn’t one of the biggest things to the teen.

“There’s an AI? Holy shit .”

“An AI who’ll - hopefully - help you be careful out there. She can help you navigate the city and deal with whatever shenanigans you get yourself into. The material of the suit itself should keep you - more or less - resistant to the kind of attacks you’ll be dealing with. It’s also fireproof, but I’d really prefer you didn’t go testing that out.” Tony begins listing off everything he put into the suit.

“Are you kidding? I’d never risk burning this. This is literally the best thing ever! I’m going to look so cool.” Spider-Man continues to gush making Tony snort at the teen’s clear excitement.

“Hell yeah, you are.”

Gently, almost as if he was going to destroy it then and there, Spider-Man folded the suit up and placed it back into the case, and closed it up.

“This is really awesome Mr. Stark and I really appreciate it but… are you sure? This must have taken a lot of time, and I don’t even know how much it cost-”

“It’s a multi-million dollar suit.” Tony interrupts, hoping that if he just quickly glossed over it, it won’t become a huge deal. “But I want you to have it,” Tony reassures.

“Did you say multi-million? As in more than one million? As in millions ?” Spider-Man gasps. “Mr. Stark, the most expensive thing I own is a forty-dollar sweater from this Star Wars merch site; and technically I got it on sale.” Spider-Man continues to breathlessly ramble.

Tony couldn’t help it when he threw his head back and laughed at the teen’s reaction. He’s never had someone react like that towards his work. The Avengers sure as hell weren’t even nearly half as impressed as Spider-Man was.

“Trust me, kid, I wouldn’t have made this for you if I didn’t think you deserved it.” Tony earnestly says, watching as Spider-Man stopped completely and widened his eyes, almost as if no one’s complimented him about this kind of thing.

Which, now that Tony thought about it, that was most likely the case. The teen probably hasn’t been told that he’s been doing a good job with everything for the same reason he comes to Tony’s apartment; because there’s no one else there to do it.

Tony once again decided that it was up to him to step into that role.

“I think you do good work, Underoos. And - more importantly - I think your hearts in the right place. With some more experience and some better tech, you’ll be able to do some amazing things.” Tony compliments. Spider-Man just blushed and ducked his head shyly in return, which managed to pull a fond smile out of Tony.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. That’s… That’s really nice of you to say.”

“You’ll be one of the greats one day, kid. No doubt about it.” Tony confidently says, making sure his tone of voice left no room for disbelief. It must have worked because Spider-Man cracked a small smile in return.

Then he whispered a sentence that made Tony’s entire body seize right up.

“Like Iron Man?”

So many thoughts and questions began to race through Tony’s head.

The first question was: did this kid know?

No. He couldn’t possibly know. No one but the people in his old life knew. No one from the public knew or even had close to an idea.

The next question was why in the hell did this kid look up to Iron Man of all heroes? Why did he have to think that Iron Man was what he should be living up to?

Didn’t this kid know that Iron Man is the reason Tony now has nothing? No friends, no girlfriend, no company, no one to live with but the dust bunnies in the corner of his apartment.

Of course, he couldn’t possibly know all that, but that wasn’t going to stop Tony from trying to persuade his thoughts otherwise.

“Mr. Stark?” A tiny voice breaks through all of Tony’s thoughts. Snapping his head up, Tony realized that he had gotten too far into his head and quickly shook himself out of it.

“Nothing, kid. I’d just… shoot higher than the tin can.”

“Are you crazy? You can’t shoot higher than Iron Man! Iron Man is Iron Man! He’s the best.” Spider-Man protests. Tony wasn’t sure what his face looked like right now, but he knew it had to be a look of disgust because Spider-Man just continued to ramble about the ex-hero.

“Hello! The battle of New York? He flew a nuke into a wormhole and then the Avengers closed the portal on him - which was totally uncool by the way - and he still came back anyway. And he defeated the Mandarin after all those bombings happened and then there was that whole thing with the terrorist in Afghanistan and stopping that guy from Stark Industries and rescuing-” And Tony couldn’t help but groaning and rubbing his face when Spider-Man stopped mid-sentence.

Because Tony knew - could pinpoint the exact moment one of his identities clicked inside the teen’s head.

“You're Tony Stark. Oh, my God. I’m in Tony Stark’s apartment,” Spider-Man gasps, “I bled on Tony Stark’s couch. Oh, my God. How did I miss that? Holy-”

“Are you done?” Tony interrupts the revelation, glaring at the - once again - rambling teen.

“No. No, I am not done. I can’t believe I didn’t reconsider you before. Oh, my God. You’re the CEO of Stark Industries.” Spider-Man continues to freak out.

“Ex-CEO” Tony corrects, rubbing his temples to try and stave off an oncoming migraine.

“What?”

“I gave it to my old assistant Pepper. She’s better at it anyway. I told you, I’m just an over-glorified mechanic now.” Tony explains, causing Spider-Man to sputter in return.

“B-But why? You were the most famous inventor of all time until you just… disappeared.”

“If you think fame and notoriety are still the most important things in the world, you’ve got some growing up to do, kid.” Tony lecture. Although it wasn’t a very strong lecture with how tired and done with it all Tony sounded.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way I just… I go to a super nerdy school and I’ve been into tech my whole life. So, I - uhh - I totally followed your whole career when I was younger. It’s why I like Iron Man, too. He made himself into a hero, you know? He saw that things needed to change and so he changed them himself." Spider-Man explains.

Tony just stood there and stared at the teen, trying to process everything he was just told.

Tony had to keep reminding himself that Spider-Man didn't know; that no one knew. No one knew about his secret identity and that it was just a coincidence that Spider-Man happened to look up to Tony and his alter-ego.

That didn't make it any better, though.

Tony hated the fact that Spider-Man looked up to them. That he wanted to be like them. The kid needed to shoot higher for something, needed a better role model than Tony and Iron Man. Which was the conflicting part because this kid really needed a mentor and the only "hero" he just so happened to stumble upon was Tony.  

"I'm not the kind of guy you want to look up to, kid. Neither is Shellhead. Trust me." Tony voices out loud before turning and walking away. He figured the kid knew his way out himself. "Enjoy the suit."

*   *   *

It was until later that night when Tony's hunger got the better of him and he figured that Spider-Man had left a while ago and it was safe for him to that Tony left his workshop and came back out into the living room.

Sure enough, Spider-Man was gone when Tony reached the living room, and the only sign that the vigilante was in his home in the first place was the note sitting on his coffee table.

I think you're selling yourself short ex-CEO or not - Peter Parker

(Now you know my secret identity too. I only thought it was fair)

Tony didn't quite know what to do with that, but if Tony ripped the first part of the note off and kept it in his desk drawer - well - no one had to know.

*   *   *

It was another couple of weeks and, once again, there was no word from Spider-Man.

No, not Spider-Man. Peter Parker.

Almost as soon as Tony got his name, he went back down into his workshop and began researching anything he could find on the kid.

He found out that he went to Midtown, which in itself was pretty impressive, but he even managed to find all of the teen's robotics and decathlon awards, and his grades and GPA.

Okay, well, Tony didn't happen to stumble onto all of that, he probably did a little bit more hacking than he should have, but he was curious. Sue him.

Although the straight-A's and 4.0 really explain a lot about how Peter was able to get around doing all of this hero-ing and how he was able to go for so long without the proper resources. The kid was smart.

But, Tony also found some not-so-fun stuff. Like three specific death certificates.

He wasn't so shocked to find the death certificate of Ben Parker since Peter had already brought his Uncle up, but he was shocked to find death certificates for Richard and Mary Parker.

Something tight settled into Tony's chest when he found those and realized that the teen was an orphan just like he was; albeit a little younger.

After that, Tony stopped his stalking background check and decided that he would get the rest of whatever information from Peter himself.

Two days after he started his research, another knock came from Tony's front door.

Once again, Tony couldn't help but be paranoid at the sound, but quickly forced himself to relax when he reminded himself that the only person who comes to visit him is the Spider-Kid.

Sure enough, when Tony opened up the door, Peter was standing on the other side of the door, holding up a bag of cheeseburgers in one hand and a bag with a bunch of drinks and snacks in the other.

"There better not be mushrooms in that thing," Tony says in lieu of a greeting.  

"Excuse you. This is an all-American cheeseburger. There's lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles, meat, and cheese and that's that." Peter scoffs.

"I've never respected you more, honestly," Tony says as he widens the door and steps aside so Peter could walk on in.

The teen gave him a big grin in return as he made his way into the apartment, quickly settling onto the couch like he had been coming over for years. Which considering the kid only really comes over when he's severely injured, Tony is beginning to feel like he's aged a few years.

After the kid hands out the food to both him and Tony, he began to make his way into the kitchen and pour them both a glass of water.

Tony couldn't help but watch with amusement, kind of shock, and touched at the same time that Peter was no longer afraid to make himself at home. Maybe it means the kid is going to start coming around more so Tony doesn't have to constantly worry about whether or not he's dead in an alleyway.  

Almost as soon as Peter set down the glasses of water, he was sitting down next to Tony and practically inhaling his burger.

"So good. A-plus. Really made the robbery worth it." Peter talks around the bite of burger in his mouth, completely missing the incredulous and somewhat angry look Tony was giving him.

"You got these at a robbery?"

"When you see a Shake Shake being held up, you gotta intervene. And if the owner gives you free food as a thank you then," Peter shrugs as he sets his bottle of sprite down, "the friendly neighborhood Spier-Man would never be impolite enough to say no."

Tony couldn't help but huff and shake his head at the teen's antics and the audacity he had to actually look smug about it all.

"And we can't have that, can we?" Tony continues the light banter they have going.

"No, sir," Peter replies, both of them instantly laughing once they caught each other's eyes.

"So, fix anything today?" Peter asks as Tony settles down onto the couch right next to the teen.

"Neighbor downstairs had her car malfunction; took a look at that for her today. Nothing fancy. How's the suit.?" Tony quickly changes the subject, hating talking about himself more than he needed to. That usually led to very important - very secretive - stuff getting out by accident.

"It's incredible! Like, seriously, Mr. Stark. It's the coolest thing ever, and it works so well, and I've been getting so many compliments. Did you see me trending on Twitter? That was so cool!" Peter bursts out, almost as if he was holding all of that in until Tony said something.

"Yeah, I saw that. Might have contributed to a few on the conspiracy theories." Tony smiles the weird warmth in his chest once again spreading at the sight of the happy teen.

"Are you serious? Mr. Stark." Peter groans. Tony had to try and choke down his laugh at the sight.

"My personal favorite was 'Spider-Man steal Daredevil's suit and cuts off horns'" Tony continues to tease, earning a whining type noise in return. "Hey, you'll grow. Probably."

"I retract my compliments effective immediately." Peter dryly says, making Tony give the kid another smirk.

"Sorry, no takebacks. Can't erase this memory." Tony says as he taps his temple before finally reaching for his weird robbery burger.

"Hey, Mr. Stark?" Peter hesitantly asks, gaining Tony's attention. "Why'd you sell your tower to the Avengers?" Peter asks once he was sure Tony was paying attention.

Which... that wasn't a question Tony was prepared to get asked.  

Tony stopped eating his burger and cleared his throat before actually answering. "They asked and I agreed. I was planning on moving SI operations anyway."

"So, it isn't true that you did some work for them?" Peter continues to question. Tony's heart instantly began to pound. He couldn't help but feel nervous as to where this line of questioning was about to go.

"Why do you say that?"

"Twitter." Peter shrugs before returning to his burger. And, of course, of course, Twitter would figure out viable information like that.

"You know, it's constantly surprising to me that more national secrets aren't revealed on the internet every day." Tony deadpans, causing Peter to gape at him.

"So you did?"

"I consulted on some of their tech. That's all. No biggie." Tony sighs, already knowing that Peter was going to make a huge deal about it and he was going to have to talk about it more than he already wants to.

"No biggie? It's a huge biggie! Did you work on their suits?" Peter rapidly questions, gasping when something dawned on him. "Is that how you were so good at mine? Did you work on the Iron Man armors?"

"Can't a man keep any secrets anymore?" Tony asks in the hope to be able to drop this conversation completely.

"Not if they involve the Avengers." Peter was quick to deny. All Tony could do was stare at this teen in annoyance.

What did this kid see in the Avengers that gave them all of his awe and respect?  Didn't he know that the avengers are some of the worst people out there? Apparently not, and tony was going to have to be the one to tell him.

"Why do you even care about the Avengers so much? Because I'm telling you, they're nothing to be fanboying about. They were dysfunctional, aggressive, and uncooperative. They preached about teamwork but were the first to turn on each other when the going got rough. And when things got bad, when people started dying because of their actions, they decided their own self-righteousness was way more important than the will of the entire world." Tony began to rant, getting so into finally being able to let out all the pent-up rage that he didn't even notice when Peter's face began to fall.

"They were called 'Earth's Greatest Defenders', but in the end, what did it all matter when everything that mattered to them disappeared. When even their so-called family didn't matter more to them than their pride." Tony finishes spitting down, Peter looking down at his lap with discomfort and hurt in his eyes.

"Just because they weren't perfect doesn't mean they weren't still great. Everyone has their bad side, but they still tried their best." Peter tries to defend, making Tony nod when he realized he was going to have to break this down and make Peter see his point.

"Okay, but what if what's right and wrong stopped being so simple? A guy starts a fight in the middle of the street; that's wrong. So you break it up. Easy right? Aliens invade the Earth. That wrong, right? So you defeated them." Tony waited until Peter showed he understand before continuing.

"But, what if, before they were defeated, you saw that you only got rid of one percent of the threat. That beyond them was something infinitely more terrifying just waiting for the perfect moment to attack. What if you knew that threat was imminent. What do you do?"

"You build your defense. You prepare." Peter confidently answers.

"But here's the thing; what lines do you cross to prepare? What boundaries do you have to set? The Avengers were a group of superpowered people thrown together without any foundation so when questions like those popped up, they didn't have enough faith in one another to resolve them without breaking apart. So, tell me then, what were they really thinking about? Their hearts? Or their pride?"

"The Avengers split up because of the Accord, didn't they?" Peter asks, slowly getting to the root of the real problem.

"The Accords were just the catalyst. In the end, it was betrayals on the inside that made them irreconcilable and what made half of them go into hiding and the other turn into fugitive still playing a vigilante on the down-low." Tony huffs before crumpling up the take-out bag in his hands, just to have something to do with them and to make his next admission easier.

"I've been around too many superheroes to be blind to the costs of it. And no one lost more than Iron Man."

"You know what happened to him?" Peter gasps. Tony just gave a wry smile as he nodded.

"He lost the love of his life, he lost his team, he was betrayed by his best friend, he lost everything until all he had left was a suit. But what purpose did that serve? When everything he fought for had slipped right through his fingers." Tony vents, trying as best as he could to reel in his emotions afterward.

"That's terrible," Peter whispers as he shrinks into the couch.

Tony doesn't really say anything after that, too shocked with how much better he felt. He finally feels like the tight knot that constantly sat in his chest has loosened; even if it was just the tiniest bit.

Tony hasn't once talked about everything that's happened. He's never brought up his and Pepper's breakup, what happened to him during the Accords, or even what happened after he went after Steve. No one knew.

Except now for this random-ass kid. And even though he thought it was about Iron Man and not Tony, having someone actually know and understand surprisingly helped Tony.

Maybe it was time for Tony to accept what had happened and call Rhodey.

"If you...," Peter tries to begin before clearing his throat and trying again, "if you hate superheroes so much, then why- why did you make me a suit?" The teen finally gets out. And for the first time since Peter began asking him about superheroes, Tony actually felt confident and sure of his answer.

"I've met a lot of heroes since my time with the Avengers. I've met magicians and aliens and enhanced, but I've never met anyone like you. If the Avengers had half the heart you did, I think the world would be a different place right now." Tony certainly says, giving a small and soft smile when he saw the teen blush under the blatant compliment.

"I'd given up on superheroes. I guess the jury's still out now, Peter."

"I don't know if I deserve that," Peter whispers, shaking his head.

"You want to be as good as Iron Man and I'm telling you you're better."

*   *   *

After that, it's like Tony can't get rid of Peter.

The teen quickly began to pop in weekly, just to check-in; or at least that's what he says it is.

And Tony would deny it to his last dying breath that he actually enjoyed the kid's presence. If anyone asked, he was annoyed every time but accepted it anyway. But secretly, deep down, he really did enjoy having Peter's company every week.

Tony hadn't realized how long he's been alone until he finally had someone to interact with.

Slowly but surely, Tony begins to learn a bit more about Peter and what makes him tick.

Peter lives with his Aunt currently; although she knows nothing about his "extracurricular" and he preferred to keep it that way. He had three really close friends -  Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, and Harry Osborn; let's just say Tony was a bit - read a lot - dramatic when he found out Peter was friends with an Osborn. He also found out that the kid was in tenth grade, which didn't help with the guilt Tony felt for actually encouraging Peter's behavior; although to make himself feel better, Tony just kept reminding himself that Peter was doing this way before he dropped into Tony's life, and if anything he was doing everyone a favor by helping out.

Taking everything into consideration, Peter seems to be a typical teenager. But there's still something behind the scenes, Tony's noticed.

There's always something a little lingering - wanting - behind Peter's eyes sometimes. Something a little dark behind all the shy looks Peter gives when Tony compliments or praises something good Peter has done.

Tony hates it - no one that young should look that haunted - and is officially deadset on making it all go away one day, or at least making it better and easier.

Currently, Tony was working on a project in his workshop, waiting for JARVIS to let him know when the teen got to the apartment.

By now, Peter is no longer shy about just waltzing into the apartment through the balcony door, and Tony has since stopped caring and learned to just leave it unlocked so the Spider-Kid could come in, but he still was working on something extremely delicate and the kid was too light-footed for Tony's liking.

The last thing Tony needed was for his location to be outed just because he got startled by a teenager and blew the whole building up.

'Sir, Spider-Man is requesting access.' JARVIS finally chimes in, the heads-up causing a small smile to form on Tony's face.

"Great! Tell him I'm waiting for him and let him in, J." Tony adjures while patting Dum-E on the head and taking the smoothie the bot was offering.

And Tony had tried to pay attention to when Peter walked into the lab, wanting to see the kid's eyes light up when he saw what had to of been a wet dream for the teen, but that was until Dum-E started trilling and trying to go after the smoothie he had just handed over.

"Don't you dare," Tony stops, holding a finger up to keep the bot in place. "Step away from the smoothie, Dum-E."

Dum-E just continued to chitter, nodding his head while Tony insistently shook his. "Nope, you already perfected it without the motor oil. That's overkill. You trying to kill your Dad?" Tony continues to argue with the bot.

"Aww Mr. Stark, he's just trying his best, aren't you?" Peter coos, alerting Tony to his presence.

"Hey, you, knock it off or you'll positively reinforce this nonsense." Tony scolds, although the overly-fond look he was giving took away most of the seriousness.

"You into chem now?" Peter asks once he gets over to the worktable Tony was at and looked through all the magnifying glasses.

"Actually, I'm trying to make exploding webbing for you," Tony announces, "but the process isn't going as smoothly as I thought," Tony admits. Peter on the other hand was practically bouncing out of his skin with excitement.

"Are you for real right now?"

"Realer than real, kid," Tony replies with faux seriousness.

"This is so crazy. I'm science-ing with Tony Stark. Ned's going to lose it." Peter continues to marvel.

Tony couldn't help but grin at the teen's excitement, handing him a pair of safety goggles. "How is he anyway? Has he gotten over dying from the suit?" Tony questions, making Peter snort.

"No way. He went on about that for weeks, but he's valid." Peter answers.

"And school? No trouble in minor paradise?" Tony continues to question, adding that as his contribution to the darkness in the kid's eyes for the day.

"No different than normal." Peter shrugs, purposefully avoiding eye contact with Tony.

"I take it 'normal' isn't usually slap your knee fantastic?" Tony aims for light-hearted.

"It's nothing. Just high school." Peter brushes off while fiddling with a screwdriver. That sad look was beginning to return in Peter's eyes, making Tony's mentor - not parental thank you very much, he didn't have any of those - instincts go haywire.

"You know," Tony begins, picking up a wrench and fiddling with that also, "I used to get bullied too when I was younger," Tony admits, figuring that this was what this was.

"No, you didn't." Peter denies, scrunching his face up in disbelief.

"Genius kid with a smart mouth and at least four years younger than everyone else in his classes? I'd be more surprised if I wasn't pushed around." Tony snorts.

"That sounds way worse. My thing really isn't a big deal." Peter defeatedly says.

"If it bothers you, then it's a big deal. Spill, kid." Tony genuinely says, poking Peter in the side with the wrench to try and get him to start talking.

"Honestly, Mr. Stark, it's nothing, it's just this kid... Flash," Peter finally begins to open up, "He's just mad that I 'stole' his spot on the Decathalon team and he thinks that making fun of me will make me leave or something, but it won't. But it doesn't make it any less sucky, and I thought that all the stupid stuff he said didn't bother me, but sometimes..." Peter trails off.

"You hear the stuff he says when you're already feeling kicked around?" Tony finishes for the teen, his voice sympathetic.

"Yeah. Exactly." Peter agrees, finally looking up at Tony.

"Yeah, that's the way that kinda stuff goes. No one's immune to thing like that, Pete, no matter how much we say we don't care." Tony says, and his point must be getting somewhat across because the teen looked back down at his lap, lip firmly tuck between his teeth.

"With that said though, everything that Flash kid told you? Automatically tossed in a trash can based purely on the fact that nothing a kid named Flash says can be accurate in any way." Tony teases to ease some of the tension in the room, smiling a bit when it seemed to work and got Peter to smirk. "Sorry not sorry, that's just a fact. It's all purely bullshit."

"But what if it's not." Peter blurts out, dropping his head right into his hands. And that - the fact that Peter believes some of the things this asshole says - that doesn't sit right with Tony.

"I guarantee non of the things he says about you are true. You said it yourself, he's jealous that you got something he didn't; and with a name like that, he's probably used to getting everything he's ever wanted his whole life, so the second it doesn't go his way, he throws a tantrum. It's not even about you. Not really. It's all about him and his own insecurities." Tony calmly rambles, wanting anything for this kid to realize his worth.

"Yeah, but it still sucks! It sucks, and I hate it, and I wish he'd just leave me alone!" Peter shouts, taking Tony back a bit. He's never heard Peter yell about something before, and Peter must have realized that because he instantly began apologizing.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I just- I'm just so frustrated. And I'm so over it, and I've never even done anything to him. And he just doesn't leave me alone."

"Hey, it's okay." Tony comforts, gently squeezing the teen's shoulder. "That guy's a jerk. Be upset. We can build a dummy right now and you can have at it after we tape his face on it." Tony continues to soothe.

"I don't think that'll help to be honest." Peter snorts.

The self-deprecating look in Peter's eye still lingered, sending thousands of alarms bell of in Tony's head telling him to fix it fix it fix it. Someone so good and kind-hearted shouldn't ever have this look, it killed Tony inside to see it. So, Tony did the only thing he knew how to do; he began to ramble.

"Peter, you fight crime as a hobby and still play Legos with your friends. You have a big heart and you're ridiculously smart. You're literally every parent's dream child and you're the only teenager in the world that's actually likable.  You're killing it on all fronts. And if you want me to go down to that asshole's house and scare him with some avengers tech, I'm game, but if you want to do cool science stuff he'll never be able to do in a million years, I'm game for that too."

"I'm the only teenager you know," Peter responds, the watery tone in his voice telling Tony that his point finally got across, but it was just better to focus on something else at the moment.

"Excuse you, I'm a well-connected man. I know teenagers. And they're all terrible." Tony jokes, taking the bait and allowing the subject to change.

"Except me." Peter points out, finally cracking a grin.

"Except you." Tony agrees, poking Peter in the forehead. "You're a cool kid, Peter Parker."

Peter just groaned and pushed Tony's hand away before arguing. "Do you know how uncool it is to be called cool by a senior citizen?"

"Banned. Blocked. Unfollowed." Tony says as soon as the forbidden "s-word" left Peter's mouth, pointing at the door.

Although, it was hard to be mad when the kid's infectious laugh rang throughout the walls of the lab.

*   *   *

It wasn't very often that Tony thanked his mind. Nine times out of ten his mind was betraying him and either sending him into a spiraling panic or into a spiraling depression; there really wasn't an in-between.

But every now and then, Tony's brain will supply him with an idea that he can't help but be grateful a million times over. Putting an AI into Peter's suit was one of those times.

At one-fifty-three in the morning, Tony got an alert from JARVIS, saying that Peter's AI in his Spider-Man suit was trying to reach him.

Tony quickly sat up in bed and demanded that JARVIS put her through.

"Karen?" Tony calls out, only slightly cringing at the random name Peter gave the AI.

'Mr. Stark, as per the baby monitor protocol I am to inform you that Peter's heart rate is currently at 148 beats per minute.' Karen informs, making Tony's heart sink at the news.

"What? Why? Is he hurt?" Tony questions, quickly hopping out of bed and putting clothes on.

'Peter currently is unharmed, although it appears that he's having what you would call a panic attack.' Karen informs, making Tony curse.

"Is he on his way here?"

'Yes, he is approximately thirty-eight seconds away.' Karen says, and sure enough, by the time Tony ran out to the living room, Peter was flipping onto the balcony.

Tony opened up the sliding glass door before Peter even had a chance to, hating the scene he saw before him. He hated that the kid had to go through all of this so young.

"Hey, kid." Tony lamely greets.

"Mr. Stark. I can't." Peter rasps. Tony just gives the kid a sympathetic smile before lightly placing his hand on Peter's arm.

"Yes, you can, but let's sit down first," Tony says, gently leading Peter over to the couch.

While Tony made sure the sliding door was just and the curtains were closed, Peter all but flopped on the couch and ripped his mask off of his face, gasping as if the thin material was suffocating him.

Before Tony could even get over to the teen and help him, Peter began to struggle out of his suit. The teen's jerky movements were doing nothing to help him though, instead, making the suit stick even more to his skin.

All it took was one swift tug, and the next thing they both knew, the suit was ripping clean in half.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Mr. Stark, I-I- the suit- your suit- I-" Peter began to gasp, Tony quickly brushing away his shock so he could walk in front of Peter. Honestly, the suit really was the least of his worries at the moment.

"Kid, hey, kid, listen to me." Tony tries to calm, grabbing Peter's face in both of his hands in an attempt to ground him.

"It's okay. You're okay. The suit's okay. Everything is okay." Tony firmly says. Peter just shook his head, effectively pulling it out of Tony's grasp. Tony's heart ached so deeply when he saw the tears pooling in the teen's eyes.

"No, it isn't. No, it isn't." Peter insists, dropping his head in his hands. "I messed up, Mr. Stark. I messed up really bad."

"Every single problem in the universe has a solution, Peter. We'll find it." Tony confidently says and his heart actually felt like it was shattering when he saw the tears begin to drip down Peter's wrists.

Figuring it was better to let Peter get it all out of his system and calm down before talking, Tony got up and made his way into the kitchen.

He started the usual tradition he and Peter had slowly developed, making sure a pot of coffee was beginning to brew and a kettle of water was boiling on the stove.

Once he was sure everything was being made, Tony went into his bedroom, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a random shirt for Peter to get changed in. They might be huge on the scrawny boy, but anything had to be better than sitting in his boxers.

Returning back to the living room, Tony exchanges Peter's suit for his clothes before heading right back to his lab. He looked over the suit while he walked, looking over the rip to see how bad it truly was.

He still honestly couldn't believe that the teen ripped it in half. It was defiantly going to take some fixing, but at least it'll keep Tony busy for a while.

"It's a quick fix. Trust me, the machine will sew it right back up." Tony reassures Peter about the suit once he heads back to the kitchen once again.

There wasn't a response, not that Tony was really expecting it, so Tony just made himself busy by making himself a cup of coffee and a hot chocolate up for Peter. He even made sure to add extra marshmallows in the cup along with some whipped cream, hoping that even the small gesture would be enough to help Peter feel better.

Tony took his familiar seat in the armchair across from the couch, holding out the mug of hot chocolate to Peter.

"It's not the suit that's bothering you, is it?" Tony guesses as Peter begins to take the offered mug.

No one said anything for a while, which was fine. Tony was more than happy to just sit there and wait for Peter to calm down and gather all of his thoughts. He just sat there and allowed the silence, occasionally turning his attention onto his coffee every now and then.

Eventually, Peter took a tentative sip of his hot chocolate - which Tony considered a huge win - before clearing his throat and whispering, "There was a fire today."

Tony just looked at him, making sure the teen knew he had his full attention.

"Karen told me about it and I went there as fast as I could, but when I- when I got there-" Peter continues, stopping to collect himself before he fell completely apart again, "the fire was- it was so big, Mr. Stark. It was- I'd never seen anything like that before and I just..." Peter trailed off.

"You froze." Tony finishes for the teen, having a hunch that was exactly what was happened. He's been there himself enough times to know for himself.

"Yeah, I froze. But then people were yelling and someone was screaming about their sister and I just- I just ran in there. And it was so smoky and everything was on fire and it was so hot, I thought I was going to die." Peter says, refusing to look up at Tony.

"And then I heard her screaming. And I tried to get up as fast as I could using the elevator shaft, but when I got to the third floor, I didn't- my senses were going haywire and I couldn't- it took me so long," Peter chokes, "when I found her-" Peter tried again, gasping and covering his mouth like he was trying to swallow the words back down. Tony just sat patiently, trying everything to hide his shattering heart from the teen; the last thing he needed was to make Peter feel guilty for something else he couldn't control.

"When I found her, she was on fire too." Peter finally gets out, the tears fully coming out along with the words. "She had passed out from the smoke and I just panicked. I was so scared- I didn't know what to do, but Karen just started listing off protocols and I rolled her in the carpet to put the fire out and then I grabbed onto her and I broke through the window, and I got her down, but her face-" Peter spits out all at once, almost as if once he got the words out he wasn't about to stop.

"She was my age, Mr. Stark. And now she has to go to school with burns all over her body because I couldn't get to her in time." Peter whimpers.

Tony just stared for a bit at Peter in awe. How could someone so small take on the guilt of the world? This kid was beating himself to a pulp because some girl now had scars. He didn't even care that without him there the girl wouldn't even be alive right now.

Tony couldn't take it anymore; he couldn't sit here and listen to this kid destroy himself anymore.

Slowly, Tony sat his coffee cup on the coffee table and made his way over to the couch. Almost as soon as Tony was sitting down next to Peter, he was pulling the teen on for a hug without even thinking.

For a second Peter just sat stock still in Tony's arms, making Tony think that maybe this wasn't the best idea. He's a grown man hugging some random teen and - yeah - maybe they've been getting closer lately, but he still was thirty-some years older; Peter probably thought he was some kind of creep.

But then Peter suddenly wrapped his arms around Tony tightly, burying his face into Tony's neck and officially breaking down.

Tony just held Peter in his arms, allowing him to get his grief out. The poor kid's shoulders trembled with how hard he was sobbing causing Tony to look up at the ceiling to make sure he didn't start crying with the kid.

He felt so helpless just sitting there while Peter was going through all this turmoil. The kid really deserved so much better and Tony had no idea how to give it to him.

Eventually, Peter's cries began to tamper off and his breathing began to slow, his body finally crashing from the lack of adrenaline and all the emotional distress he had just gone through.

"You saved that girl's life." Tony finally says once Peter's breathing settled enough for him to pay attention to what was being said. "If you hadn't been there, it would have been too late. You gave her a chance, Peter. Nothing in the world is more important than that." Tony earnestly says, wanting nothing more than to have his message get across.

Peter was at least hearing him because he tightens his arms around Tony once the words were floating out in the air.

"You did your best, kid. That's all you can ask from yourself." Tony continues to drill.

"But what if your best isn't good enough?" Peter wavers and - shit - wasn't that the million-dollar question? That was the same exact question Tony's been asking himself since Afghanistan.

Tony just took a deep breath and gave the answer that he wished everyone else would have given him when he asked the same thing.

"Then we keep on trying anyway."

*   *   *

"Where did the Avengers go?" Peter blurts out one night while they were working on web formulas together.

Tony didn't mean to, but he practically froze at the question. He's been trying not to freeze up every time Peter brought up the Avengers - because let's be honest, the teen is constantly talking about them - but usually Tony could tell when a conversation was steering over towards that subject.

He didn't even know what to do when Peter just blurted these kinds of questions out.

"No one knows. That's why it's called being in hiding, kid." Tony tries to brush off, forcing himself to relax and get back to work; although he was no longer focusing on the task at hand.

"You worked with them though - you know them - you don't have any idea?" Peter continues to push.

"If I had to put money on it, I'd say they were in Wakanda, but the hell if I know." Tony huffs, tugging his goggles off and tossing them onto the workbench.

"Thor's in Asgard, though; that I can tell you for sure. And Bruce..." Tony trails off as he thinks about his long-lost friend. As he thinks about the past two years without him, about where he could possibly be, if he was even still alive. He honestly missed him, even though he tried his best not to think about it too much since it always led to memories about them.

"Were you two friends?" Peter cuts through Tony's thoughts, making the scientist look back up at the teen. Tony just stared a bit before huffing, multiple memories of him and Bruce flashing through his mind.

"Yeah, we were. We worked on some projects together. It was fun." Tony says, giving the bare minimum of information like always. Except, like always, Peter continued to gush and talk about the subject.

"That's so cool! Dr. Banner is, like, the biggest expert on gamma radiation ever! That must've been crazy!" Peter practically drools over this bit of knowledge, slowly getting Tony excited about all the good memories he and Bruce had.

"He was really good at the tech stuff, too," Tony adds, his smile slowly growing as he continued to think back on his time with Bruce. "And he was really funny. He didn't mean to be half the time, but there was just something about him."

"Do you think that... do you think that any of them will ever come back?" Peter hesitantly asks, once again bringing up a question that Tony constantly thought about to himself.

Tony stopped to think about it for a second, about what it would be like if the Avengers came back. On one hand, it would be great to have a backup if that threat from above came down, but on the other hand, Tony knew they wouldn't be much help anyway; they would probably be too busy arguing with each other to even save a single person.

"I don't know. A part of me hopes they do, a part of me hopes they don't." Tony honestly answers before turning towards the teen. "Do you?"

"The world needs the Avengers, Mr. Stark. It always has." Peter replies without even needing to think about it.

A sick pit of dread began forming in Tony's stomach when he realized that this was probably the answer most people were going to have towards the Avengers. That, yeah, there were several thousand people who hate the Avenger's guts and everything the Avengers stood for, but there's also probably several thousand people who look up to the Avengers. Who's counting on the Avengers to be there when another threat attacks Earth; and none of them were to be found.

They were going to let several thousand people down once again. That was enough to make Tony want to run for the hills again.

"I think they'll come back." Peter confidently says, breaking Tony out of his downward spiral. "They're heroes. They're the heroes. If something happens, there's no way they can just sit back. That's not what heroes do."

"Not everyone who wears a suit is a hero, Pete. Pretty sure Captain America said that." Tony says, repeating the - unfortunately - familiar words.

"Well, then he doesn't know what he's talking about because the Avengers are heroes even without the suits. I know it." Peter firmly says, a silence falling on the two afterward.

The weird warm sensation was spreading in Tony's chest once again at the thought of Peter actually thinking Tony was something worthy of the hero title; even if he didn't actually know that he was inadvertently talking about Tony.

"And I don't know if I can do it alone. What if something big comes against and it's just... me?" Peter questions in a small voice, not even looking up at Tony. Tony was kind of glad, though, that Peter wasn't looking at him because he knew that he wouldn't be able to give the comforting look the teen was looking for.

He didn't want Peter to know the truth; that he was terrified of that exact situation happening.

"Then we'll figure it out." Tony eventually answers.

"We? No offense, Mr. Stark, but you being on the scene would just stress me out more." Peter huffs, and despite the matter of the subject Tony couldn't help but crack a small and knowing smile, finding the fact that he could be out there with Peter and the teen would have no idea amusing.

"You'd be surprised, Pete."

*   *   *

To say they were all surprised three months later when a gigantic spaceship appeared across the sky was an understatement. Well, Tony wasn't as surprised as he was terrified.

Tony was at work when he just felt a shift in the air. Dread was quickly filling up throughout his body until he could no longer ignore the paranoia and had to look outside.

As soon as he got outside, a ring of sparks began to form, making Tony jump back a bit; especially when a man began to walk out of the sparks.

"Tony Stark? I'm Doctor Stephen Strange. I need you to come with me now." The man announces in a no-nonsense tone.  Tony just continued to stare at the man in complete shock, unsure of what the strangest part of this whole thing was; the fact that the guy's actual name was Strange, that he just walked through an actual portal or the fact that he was dressed in a tunic and cloak.

"Oh, uh, I know you're Iron Man, by the way." Doctor Stephen Strange adds as if that was going to make Tony want to go with him even more than before.

"I'm sorry, who the fuck are you, exactly?" Tony questions, his heart sinking at the idea of someone knowing his alter-ego.

"We need your help. It's not overselling it to say that the fate of the universe is at stake."

The next thing Tony knew, he and Bruce were being reunited, another wizard was telling him some messed up version of the big bang, and now they were fighting aliens in the park.

The threat - the threat - that Tony has been worrying over for almost ten years is here, and Tony really didn't know how to feel about it.

Part of him was relieved - the wait was over and he no longer had to live with the anxiety of guessing what day it was going to happen - and part of him wanted to throw up and keel over because the wait was over - it was here. Everything Tony has been preparing for was finally happening.

All of a sudden, one of the big aliens with a hammer knocked Tony out of the air, slamming him to the ground and getting ready to bash his armor in. Tony made sure to turn his back to the gigantic hammer, hoping that would help with the blow a bit, but the blow never came.

Tony quickly whipped around, trying to see what stopped the alien, sighing a bit when he saw Peter clad in his Spider-Man suit, holding the alien's hammer back.

Tony doesn't even know why he was shocked about the fact that Peter was out there to help, they've literally had discussions about Peter helping against the next threat and his fear of not being enough.

Tony just hates that Peter has to get roped up into something so big at so young.

"Iron man?" Peter whispers in shock once he turned around and actually saw who it was that he saved.

"No time for intros, Kid," Tony says, pushing Peter out of the way of where the alien's arm was swinging.

"Y-Yeah! Of course!" Peter agrees, webbing the alien up so Tony could blast him with his repulsors.

"What's this guy's problem?" Peter questions.

"There's a wizard with a very important necklace and these guys wanna steal it." Tony dryly replies, watching as Peter got flung by a well-timed punch. Before Tony could even react completely and make sure the teen was okay, Strange was zooming past them completely unconscious and on a slab of floating concrete.

"Kid, that's the wizard. I'm going to need you to grab him, can you do that?" Tony instructs, still trying to focus and destroy the stupid alien in front of him.

"Yeah! On it! I won't let you down!" Peter assures, quickly swinging off after Strange.

Tony continued to blast the alien with his repulsors, getting more and more frustrated as time continued and he wasn't any closer to defeating the damn creature.

"Mr. Iron Man, sir? I-I'm being beamed up!" Peter calls after a bit, shooting fear all throughout Tony's body.

"Hang on, kid! I'm coming." Tony promises, zapping a statue in half, hoping that it falls on the alien would be enough to knock it out.

Thankfully, sensing the urgency, Strange's sidekick sucked the alien into a portal to some other place, giving Tony the chance to blast off in the air and chase Peter.

"Mr. Iron Man? I don't- I can't breathe." Tony hears Peter gasps, the fear building the higher they went. The last thing he needed was for the ship to go too far up into the atmosphere; his suit still could only fly up so far no matter how much he worked on it.

"It's the air, it's thinning out," Tony explains, mostly to remind himself that something needed to be done right then and there. "You gotta let go, Pete. I'll catch you." Tony says as a last resort.

Tony knew as soon as he said Peter's name, the kid would put two and two together, but he couldn't find it in him to care as he continued to push his suit to its limits.

"Mr... Stark?" Peter wheezes out before falling off the side of the ship. As soon as Tony saw that Peter was falling he commanded JARVIS to let loose the nanite Spider-Man suit he's been working on for the past couple of months.

Tony didn't let himself even breathe until he saw the nanites wrap around Peter and the teen was laying safely in Tony's arms.  

"I got you." Tony breathes out, quickly flying them and landing back safely on the spaceship. Figuring that the jig was up, tony flipped his faceplate up and began looking Peter all over to make sure he was okay.

"Kid, you almost gave me a heart attack."

"Me? What about you? You're-You're Iron Man! You've been Iron Man this whole time and you never told me!" Peter accuses causing shame and guilt to wash over Tony. He never wanted to lie to the kid, but admitting who he really was just wasn't in the cards at the time.

"I know, and we can talk about it later. But, right now, I have to go grab Strange and you need to go home." Tony sternly says, making sure there was no room in his tone for arguing. Not that that ever stopped Peter.

"No way! I can't leave you here. I-"

"You've done enough, kid. And I can't let anything happen to you." Tony says as he ruffles Peter's hair before pulling away. "JARVIS?" Tony calls out, and before Peter could continue to protest, a parachute is bursting out of the back of his suit, causing him to fly backward and back to the ground.

Once he was sure that Peter was gone and wasn't going to head up to space with them, Tony turned back to the wall of the spaceship and began lasering a hole that he could get through.

Tony quickly began walking all around the spaceship, eventually finding the middle of it where Strange was. The weird Squidward-looking alien was ranting about the stone around Strange's neck, pushing sharp crystals into Strange's skin.

Tony's attention was ripped off of Strange when he felt a tapping on his shoulder, making him whip around and get his repulsor ready. Tony sighed a bit when he saw that it was only Strange's cloak from before, but it didn't do much to settle him. Especially when a familiar Spider-Kid began to slowly drop down in front of his face.

"Peter? What the hell are you doing here?" Tony all but screams.

The reality of the situation quickly began to sink in, leaving Tony breathless. Peter was here. On this spaceship. That was currently in space.

There is no going home after this, this is it. Tony was fully ready to die up in space, seeing this fight to the very end whether he makes it out alive or not. But everything changes with Peter here. He couldn't prepare to die when he has an actual child to look out for and make sure he gets back to earth safely.

"I couldn't just leave you! How could I do that?" Peter basically cries, giving Tony a pleading look; although Tony wasn't going to give in to it.

"Peter, this isn't a trip to Coney Island. This is a one-way ticket, and now you're-"

"This is a fight for the world. That's why you're here, aren't you?" Peter continues to push, making all of the emotions that were brewing inside of Tony bubble over.

"I'm here for you. I'm here because I've known this day was coming for years and it's been taunting me in the back of my mind for ages, and when Bruce and Strange found me I knew I had to do something, but I also knew that it couldn't be you." Tony rants, running his hands through his hair and taking a deep breath in, trying not to blow up too much at the kid. "You've been talking so much about being worried about doing things on your own, and I knew if you saw this ship, you'd come running. And I couldn't let that happen. But, now you're here anyway and this is just another prime example of me being a Class A screw-up."

"I thought I'd given you this whole hero shtick, you know. After everything happened with Steve and the others, I couldn't do it anymore. And, now, I finally feel like I have a reason to put this suit on and believe in something and now you're here risking your life, and do you see how this is a problem?" Tony stresses, needing Peter to see it realistically instead of having his hero-complex clouding his judgment.

"Mr. Stark," Peter begins, his expression faltering as he tries to hold it together long enough to get his point across to Tony, "that's how I feel about your life too, you know. And I know you want to protect me, but who's going to protect you?"

And, damn, what was Tony supposed to say to that?

He was so far from being used to having a team that actually wanted to have each other's backs instead of every man or themselves. If he had someone this determined on his team, including Strange - who was also extremely stubborn - maybe this could work. Tony would just keep as close of an eye as he could possibly have on Peter.

Anything to get the kid back home to his Aunt after all of this.

After a few moments, Tony relented, pulling Peter close and brainstorming a plan with the teen to get Strange free. For once, the kid's pop culture references were coming in handy, because they were able to suck the alien out through the wall and save Strange.

Now they were on an express route to Titan. A whole 'nother fucking planet. With Peter right by Tony's side.

This is going to be a shitshow. That was all that went through Tony's mind on a loop until a few hours later when Peter finally nudged him in the shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell me you were Iron Man?" Peter finally asks the question Tony was preparing for since they got on this stupid ship.

"I was done with it. I tried to save the world and it cost everything. So I tried to run." Tony admits.

"But if you hated superheroes so much, why did you help me?" Peter asks in a tiny voice, making Tony's heartache once again over the fact that the teen still didn't understand what Tony saw in him. As if Tony hasn't been trying to drill it in the past couple of months.

"Because you're someone who deserves the title." Tony smiles, figuring It was time to tell Peter the truth of how he knew about Spider-Man before even meeting him.

"I'd been looking into you before you crashed into my window. I keep tabs on all the new heroes that crop up, just to make sure they're coloring between the lines, so to speak. I guess maybe I was just trying to make myself feel better like the world wasn't going to die without us punching our way through all our problems. I felt like the city was in good hands, and then I met you, and I knew it was." Tony says, sparing a glance at Peter and having to look away when it looked like the kid was about to start crying.

"The Avengers disappeared because of all sorts of reasons. Thor left to find infinity stones, Bruce ran away because he was afraid of the 'monster' inside of him, Natasha needed a family and I wasn't enough, Clint broke the law, and Steve and I lost all trust so he left and took everyone with him. And when they left, I couldn't look at the suit anymore." Tony continues to word-vomit, finally catching Peter's eye.

"I lost sight of what made me put it on in the first place until you came in. The world is in danger and I can stop it. So I have to do something about it." Tony can't stop the smirk from tugging on the corners of his lips after that bit. "Sound familiar?"

Peter just gave a watery smile in return. "A little."

"I've always been better when I have someone to fight for. I want to protect the world, but I also want to protect you from all this," Tony waves his hand towards the window that showed nothing but empty space, "you don't deserve to be here, Peter. You should be out living teen life, worrying about Spanish tests and girls, and I'm going to make sure you go home to it." Tony promises.

And even though it was a gigantic promise, Tony was willing to give his life to see it through.

"We'll both go home." Peter firmly says, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument. "Because we both deserve it. And I'm sorry about everything that happened with the Avengers, but I'm not going to go anywhere. It's my turn to be there for you now Mr. Stark."

And what the hell was Tony supposed to say to that?

All Tony could do was ruffle Peter's hair and try to push aside his breaking heart with only one thought running through his brain.

I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you don't have to.  

*   *   *

Just being on Titan was enough to have the hair on Tony's body standing on end. Just the reminder that they were in space, that this is the same place Tony saw in his nightmares, was enough to have his anxiety through the roof, but the dread in his body only got worse when Thanos arrived.

The mad titan was exactly that; mad. Almost as soon as Thanos landed on the planet, he was raving about his lost home on the same planet they were standing on; although Tony couldn't care enough to listen to his whole "tragic backstory villain spiel" and apparently neither could everyone else because Stephen was quickly rising with magic swirling around his hands.

Taking that as his cue, Tony blasted off in the air, throwing an entire metal column right on top of Thnaos' head. In retaliation, Thanos began to attack Tony with thousands of black projectiles, which was apparently enough to fuel Peter's fury because the teen began to launch webs into the mad titan's eyes.

Tony tried everything he could while everyone else began to fight to keep an eye on Peter and make sure the teen wasn't getting too deep into the fight. He didn't want to get in the middle of what Peter was doing so he didn't accidentally get him hurt, but it was impossible not to step in once Thanos grabbed the teen by the throat and crushed him into the ground.

Tony instantly saw red and was no longer accountable for his actions. He quickly began to blast Thanos, throwing a bunch of explosives all around him, seething, even more, when he threw Peter away like he was nothing.

Thanos used one of the stones to redirect all of the explosives back at Tony, causing Peter to get amped up once again and run back over to where they were. The teen webbed up Thanos' gauntlet to limit his use of the stones, once again getting thrown to the side.

Tony grabbed a huge chunk of the spaceship and threw it right in Thanos, causing him to tumble to the ground.

Once everyone realized this was the exact moment they needed, they jumped right into action. Strange wrapped the gauntlet up in his magic, Quill threw in a device that pulls Thanos' other hand apart so both his arms were spread out, and Peter began to web up Thanos' chest to try and keep him down.

As soon as Tony was sure Thanos was under control, he flew down and grabbed onto the gauntlet, fully ready to begin yanking on it.

"Sleep." Mantis commands after sitting on Thanos' shoulders, holding her fingers over his temples to make him fall into the trance.

"Peter, get over here. We gotta be quick, she can't hold him much longer." Tony instructs once Thanos for sure stopped resisting it all. Peter dropped his webs and ran over to where Tony was, both of them pulling on the gauntlet with all of their strength.

"Not so strong now, are you?" Quill gloats as he begins walking up to everything, making Tony roll his eyes.

"Alright, toot your own horn later, space-boy, come help us pull this thing off." Tony grits, the gauntlet still only moving an inch off of Thanos' hand.

"He has my girlfriend, I want to know where she is," Quill explains, making Tony's frustration reach its boiling point.

"He won't be answering anything right now, the second we have this thing, though, you'll be able to as him whatever you want. Come on, already!" Tony screams, knowing if something didn't happen right now, this whole plan was going down the drain.

"Quill, I can't hold on much longer." Mantis gasps.

Finally realizing that he needed to give it up, Quill clenched his teeth and reluctantly began helping Tony and Peter yank on the gauntlet. It slowly began to move further, but Tony knew he was going to need a bit more manpower to get it completely off.

"Hey! Blue!" Tony shouts, gaining Nebula's attention. "Wanna help out?" Tony rhetorically asks.

Nebula quickly got the message and ran over to them, helping them all give one last pull. The gauntlet finally came off, causing all four of them to go flying backward.

For a while, Tony just laid on the ground with the gauntlet wrapped firmly in his arms, just trying to process what had exactly happened.

"We did it," Tony whispers in disbelief, "holy shit.

The victory was short-lived, though, because Strange's voice quickly rang through. "Stark! We can't let him get hold of it again."

Knowing exactly what Strange was telling him, Tony got up on his feet and chucked the gauntlet up in the air, grabbing Thanos' hand to help hold him down afterward. Strange didn't waste any time to fly forward and grab the gauntlet; disappearing in sparks of orange once it was all in his clutch.

For a moment, nothing happens. No one really dares to move, trying to figure out if they really did it or not; if it really was that easy.

Tony was looking over his shoulder when it happened - when Quill began to question Thanos once again about his girlfriend - looking Peter up and down just to reassure himself that Peter was still there with him and that he was successful in keeping the teen safe-ish.

All of a sudden, a fight begins to break out, Tony turning back around to see Quill and Drax shooting their guns to try and stave off Thanos' fury.

Thanos - having realized that his gauntlet was now gone - was going on a rampage, tossing everyone who tried to attack him away like they were nearly a piece of paper. He even managed to throw Mantis directly into the ground so hard that the gravel underneath her splintered.

"Stay back, Peter. I mean it." Tony sternly commands. He spent all day making sure the teen made it out of this alive, he wasn't going to risk everything now that they were so close to being sone with all of this.

Tony had his faceplate materialize back over his face, taking a deep breath before going in on Thanos.

Tony made the ovular knife he built within the suit appear out of his wrist, slashing at the mad titan before him. While he was doing that, Tony made all of the missiles loaded in his back shoot at Thanos so he wouldn't be aware of the rest of the attacks coming his way.

Taking Thanos' confusion as his opportunity, Tony threw a souped-up widow's bite at Thanos, making him crumble to his knees. Tony didn't waste time in punching Thano's through some of the rocks there, creating a punching match between the two of them.

Eventually, Tony was able to get a strong enough hit in, sending Thanos to the ground right in front of Nebula. The poor, blue girl didn't even hesitate before taking her sword and stabbing her father clean through his heart, and ending the fight once and for all.

Tony loomed over the purple body, panting and trying to hold himself up now that the adrenaline was leaving him.

Before he could stumble to the ground, Peter was right there, holding him up and giving him a look of adoration and raw love.

"You did it, Mr. Stark. We did it." Peter says, and all Tony could do was pull the teen in for a tight hug and let out a short huff of disbelief.

They did it. It was officially over.

Tony's nightmare that has been living with him, breathing over him, controlling his life, for the past six years, was finally gone.

They did it.

"Yeah. We did." Tony breathes out, still shaking his head in disbelief. "We did it."

"Now let's go home."

*   *   *

Tony was in trouble almost as soon as he got back.

Rhodey and Happy were both waiting for him once he and Peter got back to his apartment, both men looking worried beyond belief.

Rhodey just lectured Tony about how stupid he was going into space alone and how worried they all were while Happy silently agreed and wrapped up all of Tony's injuries.

Rhodey was still lecturing Tony even after Happy finished bandaging him up, making the scientist huff and pull his oldest friend in for a hug. That managed to successfully stop Rhodey from berating him anymore and just left him thankful that Tony was there, alive in his arms.

Since everyone was a bit more settled, Tony was able to finally introduce Rhodey and Happy to Peter, only slightly regretting it when Rhodey pulled Tony to the side and demanded to know if Peter was his secret love child or not.

Eventually, everyone left, needing to get back to responsibilities that the battle only made worse, but Tony was a bit surprised when Peter came back the next day; he figured the kid's Aunt would want him to stay in the apartment for months on end considering he disappeared for the whole day of the battle.

Peter explained that there were quite a few people injured by all the flying debris, though, so his Aunt has been working overtime at the hospital trying to get everyone taken care of.

Of course, that sent Tony into overprotective dad mentor mode - despite him still being bandaged up on the couch - making sure that Peter was comfortable and had everything he needed; even though the kid was adamant that he was able to care for himself for a bit while his Aunt was gone and he only really wanted to check and see how Tony was.

Before they could really even get settled, though, Pepper was barging into the apartment completely unannounced.

Tony just stared at his ex-girlfriend, who stared back, confused about why she was there until she began to shake her head.

"You wonderful idiot." Pepper finally says, plopping down on the couch next to Tony and grabbing his hand.

"I'm so glad you're okay. When I heard about everything that was going on here I just knew that you were going to get involved with it and I just had to get on the next plane and come out here to see if you were okay." Pepper admits, stunning Tony into silence and prompting her to continue.

"I always knew you weren't going to stop until everything that was haunting you was taken care of, and as much as it killed me having to watch you constantly put yourself into the ring of fire, I'm so glad to be able to see you become the man I knew you always were," Pepper says, gently taking Tony's hand into hers.

"I'm so glad to see you be able to rest, now."

Tony wasn't even sure if he could say anything to that, his throat closing in response to all of Pepper's kind words and with the realization of how much he truly missed her presence.

It's not until later on in the day - several hours later when he and Pepper ran out of things to catch up on and Pepper had sent him to bed - that Tony realized Peter had left.

Although, Peter didn't allow too much time in-between for Tony to begin missing him, because the teen was back the very next day and was adamant about taking care of him.

"Kid, I'm fine, I promise." Tony exasperatedly says as Peter brings out an omelet and a cup of coffee made exactly how Tony liked it.

"Any more of this overbearing nonsense and I'll have to go find another bad guy's ass to kick." Tony threatens once Peter begins to change his bandages. Although, Peter must not have appreciated the faux threat because he glared right at tony as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Don't even joke," Peter says before settling down on the couch next to Tony, stiff as a board.

Tony just continued to stare at Peter, watching as the teen would glance at him before looking away and fighting his shirt, only to repeated the process.

"What?" Tony huffs.

"Nothing! It's nothing!" Peter tries to deny it, deflating a bit when he saw the unimpressed and unconvinced look on Tony's face.

"Okay, it's not nothing, but it's not a big deal," Peter relents a little, hunching in on himself as he asks his question. "I was just wondering if... if this means Iron Man's back."

Which, out of all of the questions Peter had about Iron Man, this was the easiest one for tony to answer.

"Yeah. I'm back." Tony replies without hesitation. "I used to think it was about the suit, that that was the special thing. The heroic thing. But it isn't. I am Iron Man, and I always will be." Tony honestly says, letting Peter in on what he was thinking about for the past couple of days.

Looking over at the teen, Tony saw Peter smiling so wide at the conformation that Tony was almost positive the kid's face would split in two. The reaction just made Tony huff and roll his eyes, fully ready to dismiss everything he had said.

"Plus, someone has to keep an eye out on you. I have a heart condition, you should know that by now." Tony teases, making Peter fake groan.

"Oh, my God, you just want to babysit me!" Peter pretends to complain, the happiness shining in his eyes giving his true feelings away.

"What can I say? You're a handful, Parker." Tony continues to tease, grabbing the cup of coffee Peter had made for him. "Sorry to cramp your style." Tony apologizes, despite not actually feeling sorry.

"Nah, you fit just right, Mr. Stark."

*   *   *

Two Months Later 

*   *   *

'Mr. Stark, it appears, Peter's vitals are entering dangerous levels.' Karen chimes in, making Tony put down his soldering iron.

"Pull up his vital readings for me, will ya, baby girl?" Tony asks, sighing when he read over Peter's vital signs. "Put him through for me, please, Karen."

"Hey, Mr. Stark!" Peter greets as soon as Karen connects them, trying to keep a smile on his face to convince Tony that he was alright.

"You can quit the charm, I see your oxygen levels decreasing by the second," Tony replies woodenly, completely unimpressed with the teen at the moment. Of course, Peter just continued to chuckle awkwardly, still trying to convince Tony that everything was hunky-dory.

"It's fine. Everything's fine! I'm just- you know - on the back of a helicopter. But it's chill! Haha, get it." Peter jokes, wincing when there was no response.

Finally, realizing that if Peter was already that far into it, he wasn't going to be able to let the whole mission go, Tony sighed.

"Bring 'em down, Spiderling, and then come over so I can check on you." Tony eventually relents.

"Yes! Okay! Gotcha!" Peter agrees, nodding so hard to show his understanding Tony was surprised his head didn't pop clean off.

"Be careful, kid," Tony warns.

"Always, Mr. Stark!"

Tony sat there for a second after the call ended, rubbing his face and letting all his worry flow out with the deep breath he released.

"Karen, connect with JARVIS and give me a live feed of the fight," Tony commands as he begins putting his tools away, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to focus on anything else other than making sure Peter was safe.

‘Will do!’ The A.I agrees, a holographic video popping up right after.

Tony didn't tear his eyes off of the video for even a second, watching every movement to make sure Peter was doing okay; he even had one of his suits on standby just in case Peter needed him to step in and help.

Once the fight seemed to be wearing down, Tony made his way out to the living room and began ordering some take-out, knowing for a fact that the spider-kid was going to be starving and attempting to eat him out of house and home if he didn't do so.

Timing it perfectly had Tony paying for the take-out just as Peter was coming in through the balcony.

"Is that Thai? Yes!" Peter cheers once Tony turns around, making the older man tut.

"Ah, ah, ah, first, injury report."

"I'm fine! Promise. Even ask Karen." Peter groans, Tony looking the kid up and down just to be sure.

"Fine, I'll believe you. But I will be checking later." Tony relents, only because he watched the video and didn't see anything too life-threatening occurred. "Now, go grab some plates; I'm starving."

"Where's Miss Pepper? She's usually home by now." Peter points out while doing what he was told.

"She has her hands full with the whole 'Iron man is revealed to be yours truly' thing." Tony frowns, shaking his head as he takes the offered plate. "I swear Stephen did it on purpose; dropping us in the middle of the city like that."

Peter just snorted before responding, "I really don't think that was what he was thinking about. I feel like it was more the infinity stones he had? The ones he had to scatter to keep the entire universe safe? Remember that?"

"Details." Tony brushes off as they began to dig into the food and pile their plates as high as they would go.

As they did so, Tony couldn't help but begin to think about everything. About every single little thing that he had now all because of one little thing.

How his biggest nightmare - the thing that constantly dictated every decision in his life - was finally over, how he and Pepper were finally able to talk things out and get back together, how he was happily Iron Man and people actually knew and were happy about it. How he was no longer so lonely that he had no idea how he was going to get by day by day. All because of one little thing.

All because some random ass kid from Queens broke into his apartment and almost bleed out on his couch.

Tony couldn't hold his laugh in at the realization even if he wanted to.

"What?" Peter questions, making Tony laugh even harder at the defensiveness in the teen's tone.

"Nothing. It's nothing. I'm just remembering that you broke into my place and then tried to offer to buy me a new couch."

"Hey! I was stabbed and I was tired and, in my defense, you have the same exact apartments!" Peter defends before looking back down at his plate and mumbling, "And I totally would've bought you a new couch."

Looking at the teen, Tony couldn't feel any more grateful than he did right there. Peter saved him in more ways than one and Tony was almost positive the kid had no idea about it; which didn't sit right with Tony.

"I was dying when you met me. I know I didn't look it, but deep down, where everything counted, I was a mess. But you inspired something in me, kid. And I think it's important you know that. I wasn't alright, and now," Tony gave the stunned teen a small smile, "well, I think I'm doing pretty okay."

Tony didn't even have time to prepare before Peter was launching himself at him and wrapping him in a tight hug.

"You changed my life, Mr. Stark. Even from way before I met you. And I never say it, but thanks for always being in my corner. You've never let me down. Ever. And you're the only- the only one who gets it. Really gets it, I mean." Peter rambles in return, Tony holding the teen as close as he could.

"Jesus, when did this get so mushy." Tony jokes. Just because everything else has changed and Tony was getting better, doesn't mean that he was getting better with feelings and emotions.

"Well, you started it." Peter laughs as he pulls away.

"Hush you. And hurry up and finish, I have a cool project in the workshop waiting." Tony dangles the offer, making Peter perk up instantly.

"Do we get to make things explode?"

"Of course we are. What do I look like to you, a heathen?" Tony replies as if suggesting any other type of project was completely preposterous.

"Okay! Okay! I'm almost done."

"God, finally. Then I'll get the hot chocolate started and-" Tony begins to say.

"-I'll make the coffee." Peter finishes, making Tony smile once again.

Later on in the day, when they've made enough explosives to blow NATO out of the water, Peter decided that them actually managing to get a couple of lines of code written was a good stopping point.

Tony watched as the kid began to put on his backpack, deciding that it was now or never to give him the envelope he's been holding onto for weeks now.

Peter just stares at Tony curiously, which meant that Tony got to see the exact moment what was in the envelope clicked in Peter's head.

Peter quickly began to rip the envelope open, sucking in a quick breath of air when he pulled out a key.

"I figure it was time to stop breaking in whenever you want to come over. Consider this an official open-door invitation." Tony shrugs, hoping that if he remained nonchalant Peter won't make it a gigantic deal.

"Mr. Stark, that's-"

Tony instantly held up a finger to stop Peter from finishing his sentence, knowing exactly what the teen was about to say. "If you say it's too much I might have to throw out all your hot chocolate."

Peter just laughed at the fake threat, knowing Tony wouldn't even try to do anything of the sort. "You wouldn't. But what I was going to say before you just assumed you knew everything was finally. Scaling the building every time was getting really lame."

"You know what, I take it back. Give it here, Parker." Tony teases, pretending to hold his hand out expectantly. In return, Peter let out a cackle as he jumped away from Tony, practically booking it out of the lab.

"No take-backs!" Peter yells, turning back around right before walking out the door completely. "And I'm coming over early on Tuesday to help you with your dinner party thing, don't forget!" Peter reminds.

"Well it doesn't matter, does it? Just let yourself in." Tony says, his chest warming at the smile the teen gave him in return as he left Tony alone once again in his workshop.

For several years, Tony had been alone. He knew he was going to be alone the day he decided to disappear and to run away from all of his problems until they all eventually caught up to him. He was prepared to be alone once everything fell apart.

But now, as he stood there all alone in his workshop, for the first time in a very long time, Tony felt anything but.

Tag List: @spideyspeaches @lost-lunar-wolf @joyful-soul-collector @i-love-my-selfinserts @thatcrackheadsadbitchtm

[writingsfromstarfleet]

Thy’lek Shran - The Lift

♫ - Two Birds - Regina Spektor

For a lovely Anon, enjoy!

The Enterprise was no stranger to technical difficulty. Nearly every day something had to go wrong. Though, it hadn't happened in a while, and you imagined Trip must have been working some sort of miracle down in the engineering rooms. Most of the time, it seemed as though the ship was programmed to function as defectively as possible.

The NX-01 had a visitor today, a few to be exact. The Andorians were boarding once again, to discuss something with the captain. You hadn't paid too much attention to the reasons, excitement at seeing Shran once more was clouding your brain.

You got along well with the Andorian, and he liked you a lot. Each time he had visited, Shran made sure to spend some time with you, learning about you and discussing almost anything with you. He thought you were interesting, and would admit he thought you were very nice to look at, even for a human. You shared a mutual feeling, and when he came aboard you were simply happy he was around.

In the shuttle bay, you were accompanied by an ensign as you awaited the arrival of the Andorians. They stepped out of the shuttle, and Shran's eyes immediately fell on you, a smile gracing his face, as small as it may have been. You nodded to them, extending a greeting their way.

"Welcome back, gentlemen, Commander, it's a pleasure to have you aboard once more."

"Pleasure to be here," Shran responded, not taking his eyes off you.

"I assume you'll all want to b shown to your quarters," the ensign spoke, motioning for them to follow him. Shran was the only one who didn't follow.

"I would like to speak with Captain Archer first."

"I'll take you to his ready room," you said, and Shran simply nodded and followed you to the lift.

Once in there, the quiet surrounded you almost awkwardly. You'd spoken before, but something about the enclosed space made you feel nervous. The lift shuddered and came to a halt and you groaned.

"Why, why now?"

"Who are you talking to?" Shran mused, and you slid down the wall.

"Better make yourself comfortable. These things take ages to fix."

Shran huffed a little, clearly not amused, but nonetheless he sat down too, his back on the same wall as yours. He wasn't too far away, but was far away enough that it wasn't weird. Little snippets of chat between you had gone on, mainly just small questions, 'how have you been?' and 'how are things on your ship?'.

The quiet overtook the lift once more, and you couldn't take it. You weren't sure what to talk to him about, but anything at this point was better than the silence. You glanced at him occasionally, and still you admitted he was very handsome. That much hadn't faltered in the time you hadn't seen him. In the light of the lift, his skin was the prettiest colour. As he rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes, Shran felt your stare, and smirked just a little to himself.

"Is there something you need?" He enquired, and your eyes widened, and you stuttered.

"I- uh, I- no.. no."

Chuckling to himself, he sat upright properly and looked over at you.

"Of course."

That simple sentence made you nervous, and you weren't sure why. This was a man you had spoken to many a time, but the situation of an enclosed space was wreaking havoc on your senses.

"You know," you started, before your brain could process anything you were going to say. "I had a pet when I was a kid, a hamster."

Despite your overt nervousness and stuttering, Shran made no attempt to stop you and he listened intently as you continued. The smile on your face grew the more you spoke.

"He was called Rocket, tiniest little thing. He uh, he had the softest fur and he was adorable. He'd cuddle with me sometimes and hide in my clothes Sometimes, he'd eat with me, I'd replicate him some vegetables and he would cuddle up and eat alongside me. His favourite thing was, uh, to run, on his wheel; he'd do it for hours..."

You chuckled at the memories of him, before you realised you were rambling on.

"I-I'm sorry!" you blurted out. "I talk when I'm nervous and I uh, I didn't know what to talk about, and-"

Shran smiled at you and waved your apology off with a hand. He stared in amusement as you blinked at him.

"It's quite alright, in fact, I would love to hear more of those stories you have there. You're a fascinating person, Y/N."

A blush crept its way to your face and you tried to hide it as best you could. Shran saw it and smirked, unseen to you, of course. Over the course of the next twenty minutes or so, you rambled on about Rocket, and stories about other happenings in your life, Shran asking questions and speaking where needed, and it was then that you realised, you really do go on at times.

The lift jolted and started to move, Shran getting to his feet and extending a hand to help you up. Taking it, you felt him brush his thumb across the back of your hand, and looked to see him smiling at you.

"That was rather enjoyable," he stated, having not let go of your hand. "I would love to hear more of your stories before I go. Perhaps, over dinner?"

"Oh, uh- certainly," you answered, caught off guard by his offer. "I'd like that."

Chuckling to himself, Shran placed a kiss on your knuckles before the lift stopped at the floor he needed.

"Until then, Y/N."

[kittymsmithwritesstuff]

Hi so I've seen like your horizon x bangalore stuff. and idk wanted to see legends react to it.... *pokes fingers*

You gay bitch. I’m in.

Bloodhound & Loba: Bloodhound has always liked Bangalore, they find her enthusiasm for firearms both useful and amusing, and they respect each other’s want for privacy in their personal lives. That said, there was always a sadness around her. When Loba got added to the equation she agreed that she worried about her, “because we have issues, but we also have hobbies.” It’s when they look in the firing range one day and catch Horizon kissing her, and see the lovestruck look on her face, that the two legends feel their friend will be alright.

Gibraltar: He’s been drinking buddies with Bangalore for years and always teased her about pretty girls that would walk by ‘cause she was like a teenager, just stuttering and blushing and immediately changing the subject. He was 99 percent sure if she ever tried to ask a girl out she’d faint before she finished saying “hi”. So going out to get drinks and finding Horizon and her arm in arm prompted shocked laughter, a great amount of teasing from him and Horizon to the point Bangalore buried her face in the bar, and a round of drinks on him.

Lifeline: Horizon seemed so intensely focused on her son she’s surprised when the woman mentions, casually, that she had a date that night. When she further elaborates that it’s Bangalore, she’s even more surprised since, in her mind, Bangalore is kind of an ass. Still, as weeks pass and Bangalore becomes less and less surly, she decides sometimes the perfect medicine for asshole is just a daily spoonful of sweetheart.

Pathfinder: After seeing friend Bangalore cry twice in one hour that one time, he is very happy that she has found someone so she maybe won’t have to do that again the next time someone digs into her intensely conflicted and emotional past!

Wraith: When she finds a small note apologizing for “maybe overstepping a boundary” from Bangalore in her dorm, the voices tell her something is up. At first, she thinks it’s an elaborate assassination attempt, and then she thinks Bang is just fucking with her, and then she realizes Bangalore’s been a lot happier lately, so there’s some kind of connection between that and this. Then she sees Bang leave an orchid with a bow on Horizon’s desk and realizes the connection. She concludes she and Bangalore can talk (and they do, and things are a lot less tense afterward).

Bangalore: Girl!!! Like me??? Girl!!! AHHHHHHH. Then she’s laying back in bed watching Horizon use one of her gravity pads to put Christmas lights along the rim of the ceiling and thanking God quietly in her head. It breaks her heart to think about what’ll happen when Horizon finally finds her way home, and when she hopefully finds her own, but if she’s learned anything over the years, it’s to treasure the sun before it sets.

Caustic: Raises eyebrows, nothing more. Bangalore is a competent teammate, and Horizon is an admirable scientific and intellectual equal, despite their disagreements on morality. Perhaps some interesting data changes will occur in the games with the partnership. Perhaps he’ll get more coffee. It has about the same pertinence in his life.

Mirage: He is super excited for Horizon, who visits the Paradise Lounge to talk sometimes (which he totally doesn’t spend fan-boying). She just seems so much more lively and bubbly than she already is and, well, damn, one of the Legendary Sad Sacks has to have something going for them other than a tragic backstory. He is surprised it’s Bangalore, though, cause he was pretty sure, like pretty-pretty? sure Loba had a thing for Mary, except maybe it was the new Valkyrie girl, or maybe Valkyrie had a thing for Loba and Loba had a thing for Bangalore? Wait, where was he going with this? Eh, he’ll just give Horizon a congratulatory beer and give Bang shit for it later ‘cause there was no way Horizon would let Bang coat his gym bag in prowler pheromones, right?...Right?

Octane: Lifeline tells him. He says, “yo, think getting laid will make Bang less of a tight ass?” He then recalls being thrown and waking up in the infirmary. Bangalore had been behind him the whole time. He was 100% correct, though.

Wattson: Horizon invited her over to do a dual experiment. She walked in when Bangalore was coming out of the shower, naked. She put two and two together and quizzed Horizon about all the little details while Bangalore made herself decent. She’d always known Bangalore as a little standoffish and anti-social, though sweet, so she excitedly congratulates her as well when she gets out. When their 1yr anniversary approaches, Bangalore asks if Wattson can help her make a little custom Nessie with a tiny star projector in it for Horizon and Wattson is only happy to oblige.

Crypto: He knew before everyone else because of his snooping through the Syndicate security camera detail, unwittingly seeing their first kiss almost in a camera blind spot in one of the corridors. He’s caught them hugging, kissing, and cuddling in various alcoves and corners and always quietly erases the footage for them, though says nothing. He’s just glad somebody on the dropship doesn’t hate their life.

Revenant: Didn’t know, didn’t care, vaguely threatened Horizon in front of Bangalore for funsies. He woke up in one of his other bodies a while later with an ache in his gut where she’d, apparently, severed one of his main sets of tubing. He tried to eviscerate her in the Games after that, but Horizon got him with a peacekeeper. He tried going for Horizon and suddenly there was Bangalore, and he was waking up in a new body again. He decided they weren’t worth it. Though he could have totally taken them on. Just didn’t want to.

Rampart: She gives Bangalore constant shit. Makes kissy faces, asks how her giiiiiiiirlfriend is doing in a sing-song voice, pokes her when Horizon is in sight, has sang the “Anita and Mary sittin’ in a tree” rhyme more than once, which usually makes Horizon laugh and Bang chase her. But she’s also usually the one Bangalore talks to casually about it the most, besides Loba, and thinks Horizon is good for her and, truthfully, that Bang is good for Horizon, too.

Horizon: It took her a while to admit the feelings to herself since her relationships have a history of not working out, and that she sort of had a time limit on how long she’d even be in this century. But the heart wants what it wants, and Horizon is a romantic at her core. Bangalore was initially extremely oblivious but once she said, “I like you darlin’, but I mean that in the gayest way possible” she got the memo and turned out to be a bit of a romantic herself. She feels like Bangalore keeps her grounded, out of her own head when it keeps running on the hamster wheel to nowhere. And even though the woman has like, 3 braincells some days, she loves her. One of her favorite things is when Bangalore sings in the shower, but she’s never told her that.

Fuse: He doesn’t know either very well, but he thinks they look good together. He and Horizon will go drinking sometimes, now it just involves Bangalore as well, and sometimes Gibraltar and Rampart if they tag along. But in general they’re not a couple of pikers* so they’re A-OK in his book.

Valkyrie: When they are all on a team together, she thinks it’s HILARIOUS to shout, “LET’S GO LESBIANS!” before charging another team or third-partying. Horizon and Bangalore also find it pretty funny, but neither has ever given Valkyrie the satisfaction.

*Apparently Australian slang for couples that leave parties early/boring couples. I just googled it don’t @ me

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.7 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch knows he can't really depend on the kindness of strangers, but oh, sometimes he wishes he could.

~~*~~

Read ‘The Kindness of Strangers’ on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was with a heavy, weird-ass book in hand that Stretch returned to the heat of the afternoon. This time he made haste getting back to the store while his knees were cooperating, almost jogging on the sidewalk and waving to any regular customers as he passed. The sun was on its downward path by now and the strollers were out in full force, the Human moms and pops pushing them hardly paying him any mind past a ‘good afternoon’ as he went by.

His knees were back to the wibble-wobbles when he slipped through the door, the bell announcing him with a muted clank. The first thing he noticed was that Red wasn’t behind the counter. He was standing at the back of the store, leaning on his cane and blocking off the hallway that led to both their living quarters. Yeah, that looked like insurance that Stretch couldn’t hurry on past him upstairs; Red wasn’t quick, but he also wasn’t stupid, and Stretch could feel his hard gaze scrutinizing him from across the store.

Wonderbar.

Stretch pasted on a grin and tried to act like someone who hadn’t been recently felt up by Red’s little brother in the public library. Not that Red said that he couldn’t, but some things, (for example, random groping) could probably be inferred.

“hey, what’s up?” Stretch said brightly.

“my bro called,” Red said bluntly, and Stretch’s feeble hopes deflated like yesterday’s party balloon. So much for discretion.

“i can explain,” Stretch blurted, “it wasn’t my idea, seriously, i was only—"

Red interrupted him with an amused snort. “easy, kid, don’t haul out your guilty conscience on my account. all he did was give me the gist of things, said you had yourself an unexpected adventure.” Red jerked his head towards the hallway. “g’wan, string bean, you can use my bathroom. take a shower and cool off.”

A cool shower pouring down on his dirty, sweaty bones sounded like Eden itself right about now, apple not included.

“thanks,” Stretch said gratefully. He skirted around Red, who didn’t move, only squatted there like a grouchy stump in the middle of the doorway while Stretch squeezed around him. Must be tempering his kindness with a little extra asshole to keep things even.

On his way to showerland, Stretch took a quick detour to leave the book on the coffee table amidst the clutter. Maybe he could ask Red about it, get the cliff notes version.

The shower in the downstairs bathroom was stuck with the same crappy water heater as upstairs, not that it mattered since Stretch was about ready to cuddle with an iceberg to cool off. Added bonus, the showerhead was a lot better and it managed to crank the feeble water pressure up to its max. There was a cheap plastic stool sitting in the tub, way too short for Stretch. He sat on it anyway, knees almost up to his chin as the cool water poured down on him and washed away the sweat and filth.

He was shivering a little by the time he was done, dragging a ratty towel over his dripping bones. The pile of his clothes was missing and there a new folded bundle sitting on the closed toilet lid. He must’ve been out of it more than he thought, he’d never even heard Red coming in. Unless laundry fairies were a thing and wasn’t that idea a lot more pertinent than it was yesterday.

Stretch picked up the bundle and part of it fell on the floor. Pajama pants, luckily not a pair of Red’s although it might’ve been hilarious to see Stretch wandering around like a scrawny hulk who sprouted upward out of his clothes instead of sideways. They were red plaid flannel and worn to the stage of being shiny at the knees and elbows. Probably an old pair of Edge’s, the fit was pretty close and not too many Humans wore their waistband quite as skinny as a guy without a waist.

(he was not getting a cheap thrill out of wearing a pair of Edge’s pajamas, no matter what his libido was trying to tell him)

He wandered out into Red’s living room, still squeegeeing his skull dry with the damp towel, and saw the sofa was made up with some blankets and a pillow, the television remote set helpfully in reach.

“you done?” Red’s voice echoed up from the store and his peculiar gait made its way down the hallway until he appeared again in the doorway. “then lay down and turn on the boob tube, zone out awhile. you’ll feel better.”

“what did your brother tell you?” Stretch asked. Not that he wasn’t willing to do what he was told. The couch was saggy in the middle, but the blankets were clean and smelling of laundry detergent. They felt blissfully cozy after the cold shower.

“said you met edgar allen,” Red said. “under less than stellar circumstances, i’m guessin’, since i don’t think ya got an invite for a meet and greet with the local scarecrow.”

This time his shiver had nothing to do with the temperature. Edgar Allen was an okay guy, (guy?) but Stretch was still on the fence about the corn’s attitude problems. “not exactly, no. thanks for the heads up, by the way.”

Red tilted his skull to one side, baffled, “heads up about what?”

“i dunno,” Stretch leaned up on an elbow to see him better and hopefully increase the effect of his dirty look, “maybe when you’re warning me off from the local landmarks, you could’ve touch on that fact that a stroll through the fields might involve the corn trying to hold me as a captive audience?”

“naaah,” Red scoffed. Stretch didn’t miss the way he absently started picking at his gold tooth; that was a nervous tell right there and maybe all this wasn’t just concern but dealing with a little guilt that Stretch’s latest town bonding experience was less than top notch. “that's why the damn scarecrow is there t'begin with. ‘sides, even without him you’d have gotten out before dark. anyway, never expected you to go tromping off into the corn in search of a maze, sorry i misgauged the direction of your dumbass.”

“no, i’m sorry, not your fault.” Stretch couldn’t hold back a yawn so wide it nearly split his skull, yeesh, it wasn’t even dinner time and he was ready to sleep for a week. The imaginary hamster running on the wheel in his head wasn’t quite as ready and it decided to race back to thoughts of Edge sitting in the library, alone. Researching he’d said, so intent on his books from the so-called restricted section, like a bargain basement Hogwarts. “hey, what does your brother do?”

“mostly he’s a pain in my ass.”

It was said with great feeling and Stretch snerked out a laugh. Yeah, kinda a universal trait with little brothers. “no, seriously, i mean, for a living, what does he do?”

Red shifted his feet, his cane scraping the floor. “why are ya askin’?”

“curious. bored,” Stretch shrugged, “take your pick.” He didn’t really want to explain to Red that his brother wasn’t just a sexy pair of legs in boots anymore, (but those hips would never be forgotten). He was interesting, no, fascinating. This whole town was turning out to be some kind of puzzle and it seemed to him that Edge might be a big piece. He’d said that figuring out Backwater was a fool’s errand, but he’d never met Stretch’s kind of fool before.

“kid—” Red sighed and that resigned tone snapped Stretch out of his whimsies. He cringed internally. What was he even trying to do here, he owed Red so much and not just for the job, and here he was digging for information about his bro after Red already warned him off, not once, but twice, so maybe what he was really digging was his own grave, if he didn’t knock it off.

“nevermind,” Stretch said hurriedly. “i shouldn’t’ve asked, none of my business, i get it.”

Red shook his head. “that ain’t it.”

Stretch tried on a little laugh, ha ha, see, it wasn’t that big a deal, right? “look, the state of your brother’s ass aside, i get it. that’s your little brother, and i didn’t forget what you said. we only bumped into each other at the library, i’m really not trying to get into his pants.”

He left off on making it a promise; he was telling the truth, but why take the chance on not keeping it.

He didn’t expected the hand that suddenly scruffed over his skull, like the noogies he used to give to Blue when he was little…well, okay, Blue was still little but noogieing was off the table since he’d started his guard training.

This wasn’t like that childish roughhousing, Red’s knuckles only scraped softly along his coronal sutures. “no, kid, you don’t get it. my bro can handle himself, it ain’t him i’m worried about. but you? don’t ya got the feeling you ain’t up to any new affairs of the soul right now? might want to take it easy awhile.”

That unexpectedly gruff kindness made tears sting in his sockets. Stretch guiltily leaned into that touch to absorb every drop, and how was it he could accept it from Red when he couldn’t take it from his own brother? “i don’t get you. you barely even know me. why are you so nice to me?”

Red huffed out a laugh. “you want i should be an asshole? okay, but i gotta warn ya, i’m a contender when it comes to dick moves.”

“thanks, but you can keep your dick in your pants.”

“your loss.”

“seriously, though, what i mean is. i just don’t get it. this place is so weird, but everyone is nice.” It didn’t exactly line up with Stretch’s view of the world. His brother was always nice sure and Snowdin hadn’t been too bad, if you didn’t count the fact that all his friends were from drinking his nights away at Muffet’s. The surface world ran about fifty-fifty with Monsters being on the kinder side of the scale…until he got dumped and found out he lost all his friends in the divorce, how was that for loyalty.

Red only chuckled. “now you’ve gone and cursed yourself. can’t say everyone is nice, you ain’t met everyone yet.��

That was true, fuck, he hoped the universe wasn’t listening and if it was, that it didn’t decide to drum up a little drama. “red?”

“yeah, kid?”

Stretch craned his head back on the pillow and met Red’s crimson gaze upside-down. “thank you for being nice.”

“don’t tell anyone. i’ll lose my resident asshole status.

“secret is safe with me, promise.” Stretch yawned again and the cow bell suddenly jangled loudly out front, startling them both.

Red shouted. “yeah, i’m coming!” He tossed over his shoulder back at Stretch, “take tomorrow off, sleep in, you ain’t had a day off since ya got here.”

“thanks, boss.”

Stretch started to settle in, nap ahoy, captain, hard to starboard and all that, and his eye lights snagged on the book. Shit, he forgot to ask Red about it. Probably didn’t matter, Red’s ingredient label kinda went equal parts of cryptic and cryptid, so he probably wasn’t gonna give the right answers even if Stretch figured out what to ask.

Wait.

If Red and Edge want to share the part of the local Obi-Wan with their mysterious ways, that was fine. He already had the perfect person lined up to ask about the town’s history. Well, part of a person, anyway, the most important part.

Plan formed, Stretch turned on the television and snuggled into the blankets, letting the dulcet tones of Pat Sajak lull him to sleep.

He didn’t dream.

~~*~~

The next day, Stretch headed over to the theater bright and early, still munching on the muffin Red handed off to him as he settled on the stool for the day with his latest book, this one with a bare-chested pirate embracing a busty Human woman as the ocean sprayed up over the hull over them. Seemed to Stretch that would be less smokin’ sexytimes and more cold and wet, but what did he know, his closest encounter with the ocean was extra salt on his Applebee’s margarita.

“thanks, mom,” Stretch said as he took the little paper lunch bag Red held out to him. Red only grunted and didn’t look up from his book. In the midst of rummaging for his tasty free breakfast, Stretch hesitated at the front door.

He felt a little guilty even though Red was the one who told him to take the day. Before he started working at the store, was Red really sitting there all day long, twelve hours of a cash register and customers while he drank beer and soaked up a little romance language in the form of a cheap paperback?

Not that Stretch was judging, hell, if that made Red happy, more power to him. Still, there had to be more to his life than that, didn’t there? Maybe he’d see if Mitch sold sudoku pads at the gas station, pick him up one along with a six-pack. Hard to guess if they carried that kind of entertainment; Mitch was either some kind of crossword grand champion or the kind of guy who ate ketchup on his cheerios and Stretch still wasn’t sure which.

The first movie showing wasn’t for another hour, but Igor didn’t make a fuss when Stretch asked him if he could go sit down early. (and holy shit, the proprietor’s name was actually Igor? He wasn’t sure if the guy’s parents hated him or if the universe sense of irony rolled a natural D20 when it hit this town.)

Igor only grunted and handed over two cups of popcorn without being asked, handing back a crumpled dollar in change. Aww, Stretch had a usual, see, he was settling into town just fine, suck it, Edge.

(don’t think it, don’t think it, don’t think it…)

Stretch made his way to the theater to his regular seat, propping his sneakers up on the chair in front of him. The popcorn he set aside for now, it wasn’t exactly his idea of a breakfast treat and that muffin Red gave him was still settling into his magic. To be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure if Doris could show up very long before the movie. He was no expert, but he did know that ghosts could have some peculiar rules about manifesting. Hopefully this wouldn’t mess with her morning routine, whatever it was.

He didn’t have to wait long. Maybe Doris could sense him or maybe she could just feel it when a living person came into the theater. She slowly came into focus next to him, pale ectoplasm coalescing, and the already cool air chilled even further.

Doris happily sniffed at her popcorn as she said, whispery soft, “Good morning, Stretch, you’re here very early.”

“yeah, took the day off work,” Stretch said. His voice sounded too loud in the empty theater, not even the elevator music was playing yet. “i need your help with something.”

He might as well have flipped Doris’s switch to ‘on’. She lit up, a smile curving her pretty mouth and seeming more solid than ever. The seat behind her was barely visible through her pale pink dress as she said eagerly, “Of course, anything that I can do.”

So that was how Stretch came to tell her the story about Edgar Allen. He didn’t leave out any details, including the bit about the kids shouting at him not to go in the field, the corn closing in around him in a dizzying maze of green, Edgar Allen’s assistance, and Edge’s cryptic warning that the scarecrow would disappear with the harvest.

Doris listened to it all raptly, her eyes wide and startlingly blue, and she never flickered once the entire time. The only unsettling sight was a single trickle of blood running down the side of her face, gathering in a heavy droplet on her chin.

“My, that sounds terrifying,” Doris breathed, unaware of the irony of her saying that while a slender thread of ghostly blood ran down her cheek. The droplet swelled fatly, growing until it finally fell with a plip onto her dress, leaving behind a perfectly round spot that would slowly vanish, only to be replaced by the next drop.

It didn’t really bother Stretch much anymore; he was getting used to it and an old memory of blood was nothing compared to his recent woes. “yeah, it was spooky all right.”

“But I’m not sure I can help you,” Doris continued sadly, “There wasn’t a scarecrow in my day, not that I remember. But the corn. Yes. That I recall.” She shivered delicately and her chair let out a strange groan of springs. “A person could get lost for days in the corn. I remember…” Her already faint voice went softer and Stretch strained to hear her, her gaze distant. “I remember one year at harvest time, they found a skeleton in the field, it was awful. Oh!” She gasped and pressed a gloved hand to her mouth, “I’m so sorry, it was a dead person, not a skeleton like you!”

“no offense taken,” Stretch assured her. He slouched down in his seat even more and waggled his feet, his untied shoelaces laces bobbing against the seatback “huh. so at least one person died out in the corn.”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember much about it,” Doris admitted. “whoever it was, they weren’t local.”

“uh huh.” An outsider, then, like him, getting munched up by the corn triffids. “who owns the corn fields, anyway?”

“I…” she hesitated, then apologetically. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’ve forgotten or if I never knew.”

Another mystery. If he was gonna play at Sherlock Holmes, he really needed to start taking notes. Maybe get a pipe.

“welp, either way, edgar allen bro out there saved my ass,” Stretch told her. He picked up a piece of popcorn and didn’t eat it, only crumpled it between his fingers and let the mangled bits fall to the floor, “and he’s gonna die come harvest time. i feel like i owe it to him to at least hear his story, you know? edge wouldn’t tell me much, just gave me that book and a scavenger hunt.”

“This Edge person doesn’t sound very nice,” Doris said disapprovingly. Her mouth pulled down into a frown that flashed briefly to a bloody smear. “Is he local?”

“kinda? he’s a monster like me, so he could only have been in town for a coupla years. since we came to the surface, anyway.”

Sudden relief washed over Doris’s pretty face. “He’s not a human, then.”

“nope, he’s another skeleton monster.” That seemed to satisfy her. Note to self, Doris wasn’t real keen on Humans, in a way that didn’t seem like it was only about the way they ran away when they got a good look at her. That mystery wasn’t all too mysterious, not with a big, bloody clue flickering in and out of view like a gory version of a kid’s flipbook. If that was a going away present from another Human, he didn’t blame her for being wary. He wondered if she’d met Edge before but Stretch hesitated to bring up that idea, or to mention Red; he didn’t want her to feel bad if she didn’t remember. “yep, another skeleton monster in town. he’s kinda rough around the edges, but he’s okay.”

“Okay, is that all?” Doris said with unexpected mischievousness, “he didn’t sound simply ‘okay’ when you were describing him.”

A blush flared hotly in his cheekbones and Stretch hunched down in his seat, weirdly embarrassed in a way he hadn’t been with Red. At least Red could see what he was staring at, Doris only had him waxing poetically about Edge’s hips to go by, and Shakespeare he wasn’t.

“yeah, yeah,” Stretch grumbled, and damn, he should’ve brought along his hoodie, at least he could’ve hidden from the laughter shining in her translucent eyes. She had a dimple in the cheek on her good side and it deepened as Stretch admitted, “could be that i enjoy the view. but that’s it, okay? just a little sightseeing, i don’t need any souvenirs.”

“Uh huh,” Doris clicked her tongue thoughtfully, “Stretch, my mama always told me you can’t hurry up a good time by waiting for it.”

Other people were starting to come into the theater now. One of them gave him a curious look, but they didn’t stop, only followed the others down to the front row.

“the only time i’m looking for is in the nick of,” Stretch sighed. “guess there’s no way around it, i’ll have to read the book.”

He should’ve known not to try to find an easy way out; seemed like all his shortcuts had abandoned him, lately.

Doris laid a hand on his arm and a sudden chill sank its teeth in deep enough for his bones to ache. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help,” Doris said softly.

“nah, you helped plenty,” Stretch told her. She had. Now he knew that scarecrows were slightly more recent, at least within the past century and that maybe the cornfield wasn’t quiet as safe as it’d been played off to be. At least a cornfield without Edgar Allen in it.

The lights started dimming, the first credits beginning to roll. His popcorn was cold, the butter congealing it into clumps of greasy blobs that stuck to his fingers. Stretch ate it anyway, hey, it cost him a dollar, and laughed with Doris as Buster Keaton escaped from a bumbling crowd of cops by grabbing onto a passing car.

His phone was in his pocket, tucked in deep and only lightly pressing against his femur through the thin cloth of his shorts. It vibrated once in a quick, staccato burst while the movie was playing but Stretch ignored it.

That was one lesson he’d learned very well while they still lived under the mountain; if you focused on the task at hand, you didn’t have to think about the ones you left behind.

~~*~~

tbc

[bumbershots]

A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER THREE: WHO ARE YOU?

Author’s note: Hello! Once more I would like to thank you all for the love this story’s been getting, it truly blows my mind. I am also looking for a beta reader so if anyone out there is interested let me know! (: Let’s pick up right where we left off...

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.3K **

Two souls don't find each other by simple accident, Harry thought after taking a seat for the first time that night, his feet were probably going to be swollen tomorrow, they were killing him already. But he wasn't keen on turning down a dance from the girl collapsing in the settee right next to him. A slow Amy Winehouse song was their cue to rest.

"Do you want a beer?" Her voice sounded a bit hoarse, probably from all the giggling and singing she did while dancing the night away.

"Yes please."

He watched her trot to the small bar on the other side of the flat, focused on how the multiple bracelets bounced in her left wrist as she instructed her brother which beer to give her. As she came back to take her previous seat, he felt a small wave of anxiety for wanting nothing more than to start a conversation with her, as she handed him the beer. Usually it was the other way around, but in most of the cases, people wanted to know his persona.

He knew the silence was becoming awkward, but he was still debating whether to ask about her upbringing or what she did for work, whatever the case was, he didn't want to make a fool out of himself, he almost never seemed to be that lucky.

"You're not used to people being calm around you, are you?" Alma’s frown os curiosity is a mirror to the one on the musician's face.

"Yes and no?" Harry's coy tone makes her smile warmly and shake her head in denial, "so, I'm Hampstead station guy?" Her eyes widen, a shy smile appears on her full lips before she takes another large sip of her drink.

"It's unlikely to find the same person thrice in the tube! I told my friend Laura, it felt like a glitch in the matrix." She answers and he lets out an amused laugh.

"For the record, I wasn't following you, at all..."

"I know, you just had to take the same line I did and it was a happy coincidence," she interrupts him, the new song gathers a few more dancers and Harry wonders if she will ask him to dance again, "although it would've made a great anecdote for my YouTube channel; story time, a famous musician follows me around the city possibly plotting my painful death." She joked as she gingerly flashed her hands before the two of them, as if presenting the latest play from the West End.

It was Harry's eyes turn to be wide and smack his hand into his forehead.

"You have a YouTube channel?" His interest was genuine and Alma made herself more comfortable on the sofa, before proceeding to fill him in about what that was about, just videos about her 'sort of interviewing remarkable people' or so she claimed.

It was something that started as a class project back when she was seventeen, trying to get good grades to win a scholarship and study abroad —none of those things happened. She kept doing it afterwards because it was too much fun, once she interviewed all her friends, she moved onto her family. "Believe me when I tell you, that I have more relatives than I should!" With a smile as big as hers, he sighed before breathing 'lucky' as his heart sped and she continued.

Restaurant owners, chefs, firefighters, barristers, doctors, accountants, waitresses, sexual workers, sex shop employees, bankers, homeless people, hairdressers and apparently every person from her home country had been on the informal interview series. Harry was impressed with the whole concept and her.

"I sort of abandoned it a little when I moved here last year, it was crazy busy the first couple of months and the whole bureaucracy... and I was a little homesick to be honest." For the first time in the night, her voice is thinner, he has to lean in a few inches to hear better, "I miss my parents, my cousins, my aunt, my grandparents. But this is something I've wanted for the longest time you know?" Her eyes bore into his, allowing him to see the vulnerability swimming in them, "I've never felt like an outsider here, never got lost in the tube, took the wrong bus or anything like that. Isn't it weird?" Harry smiled at the sentiment, thoughts of his latest trip to Japan flashing before him.

"No, I think it's marvellous that you feel that way." He cannot be real, is the only thing running through her mind like a restless hamster in its wheel.

Harry and Alma talked about everything they didn’t have in common, despite the brief interruptions to do some shots and drink champagne with the birthday boy. Their families were discussed, their favourite things to do in the summer. Alma even asked him how was work going, as if she didn’t know that he was one of th world’s most successful artists. Harry was thrilled to joke through their drinks and the girl wasn't shy to ask him for a couple more dances. None of them noticed the partying dying around them, it was only after Fernando said his goodbyes to his laughing sister, that they noticed how late/early it actually was.

Before they knew it, golden hues streamed through the window behind them as Freddie walked out of his room and offered them coffee.

"I'm never drinking straight vodka again," Freddie mumbled to himself after finishing his cup of coffee.

"At least it wasn't Vodquila like last time," Alma's words make him groan but agree. "I should go now, need a shower and a healthy breakfast."

After Harry also admitted he needed to be on his way, with all their belongings gathered and after saying goodbye to a very ill Freddie, neither Harry or Alma looked forward to their imminent separation. He had spent hours hearing how busy she is, when not recording content, she was working at Wenzel's and teaching Spanish to her neighbour's daughter on the weekends. Still, he was determined to meet with her again.

As soon as they started moving down the street, Harry noticed the next one was where he had to turn right in order to go home. It wasn't a short walk but the most effective route for sure.

"So, the bus stop is that way," Alma nodded her head to the left, smirking knowingly as she stuffs her hands in her coat pockets.

"Of course," they had come to a rolling stop at the corner. Harry suddenly felt beyond nervous about asking the girl for her phone number. "Thank you, for keeping me company last night." It was amazing he wanted to add, but licked his lips quickly instead.

"You mean keeping you from catching up with all your friends," she corrected him.

Harry shakes his head and smiles, the dimples graciously adorning his cheeks, his racing heart giving him the last push needed to finally ask. "Do you think we could go, like for coffee... sometime?” With that she laughed, immediately memorising the sound of it, her loud cackle is one of the nicest things he has heard in awhile.

"Only if I can buy you something from the selection of pastries." Harry laughed loudly, completely relieved by her answer. She dug around her purse for a moment before taking out a pen and what seemed to be an old receipt, quickly scribbling down her number and handing it to him.

"I'll call you," he beamed, carefully placing the piece of paper in his wallet. He'd be an idiot to lose such a precious fragment of information.

"Looking forward to it," Alma smiled at him for one last time before she started walking to the opposite direction. "See you around Harry." His face was a bit puffy from not having slept properly, but she would be lying to say he didn’t look adorable at the same time.

He waved and watched her walked away, her sweet and tired morning smile seemed to be engraved into the musician's mind as he headed home.

The air was still a bit cold, but the heat was starting to rise and plague London for the rest of the day, the hot summer everyone's been yearning for was finally here, even Harry could feel it in his bones as he continued down his path. He was still highly enamoured by the amazing night he spent sharing a piece of himself with Alma. His feet felt heavy, were even burning a little, but it was nothing as he made his way through his home gate twenty minutes later.

He decided to get some toast and a cuppa for breakfast, his high spirits not faltering even one bit although he could feel the consequences from the all-nighter already with each yawn. After eating he decided to take a shower that got him ready for a well deserved sleep in his comfortable bed.

Waking up around six o'clock startles him at first, Harry is well rested now but a bit grumpy for the weird taste on his tongue, something usual after drinking beer. He scolds himself for not brushing his teeth earlier as he walks in his bathroom. The cool tiles against his bare feet wake him up a bit more. After some needed dental hygiene, Harry gets dressed to go out and pick up his sister for their weekly dinner. Hopefully he can convince her to stay in, that way he can go on and on about the events from the night before.

His feet still hurt, he can even feel a blister underneath his big toe. But it doesn't bother him, it's actually a nice reminder of the incredible things that miraculously happened. Harry knew that since Alma was related to Fernando, someone that was bound to be in his life for the next six months or so, there was a big chance they would've met at some point. But he'd rather think it was fate, some sort of good karma coming round, he stared at her contact on his phone, still charmed by the fact that she gave it to him on the back of a receipt. Ignoring that she only did it that way, because the thought of asking for his mobile to enter it herself, was a very bold move. And Alma wasn’t really that confident, not when his green eyes were boring into hers anyway.

"When are you gonna call her then?" Gemma's voice snaps him out of his daydream for the third time during their quiet dinner in her flat. "What is it? You've got that look."

"What look?" He asks before his sister frowns and pinches her bottom lip with her thumb and index finger. It's his nervous quirk, he sighs, "I don't know, I'm just so nervous." Without a valid reason, he knows the girl is so lovely, maybe that's why.

"You're afraid of fucking it up," she knows, Harry nods. "Well, you could tell her that, perhaps on a text—

"—I want to call her, texting her will make me feel a wanker." Gemma smiles at her little brother, he looked uncharacteristically unsure of himself but nonetheless excited. It was endearing how the first thing he told her after crossing her home's threshold was 'my life is officially a chick flick!' Before proceeding to explain with detail about the whole situation.

"What about a text that reads: hello, this is Harry please save my number so when I find the guts to call you, you don't think it's a telemarketing scam," Gemma might be joking and mocking him all at once, but has a point. A text so she also has his number, makes the situation more even, she can call him too. "Assuming she gave you a real phone number."

"What?" Harry is mortified.

"I'm kidding, you should've seen your face," his sister wanted to drag a bit more her joke, but the preoccupied look on his face stopped her. Gemma couldn't wait to tell their mum, knowing that she would be just as absorbed. "There's nothing wrong with showing interest right away. If you want this to be honest and genuine, set an example." She finished before taking the last bite of pizza.

Harry knew that to be true, but now he was left wondering if it was the right time for him. Had he really left behind all the ghosts and baggage from his past? Or was he still carrying them in the new tattoos of his knees?

Despite his sister's encouraging words about how nothing could go wrong this early with Alma, he couldn't help but wonder if his still grieving heart was ready.

He takes his time walking back home, not caring if it was a really long one, he was aware of the curious eyes once he reached the Southbank but paid no attention to them. He welcomed the chill breeze, hoping for it to cool his boiling mind. Remembering the last time he walked along the river arms around his former flame, her laughter still ringing in his ears, her tender kisses in his knuckles, her delicious scent flying away with the airstream into London's sunshine.

Missing someone is not wrong, Harry reminds himself.

There's no point going down the rabbit hole of what ifs about their relationship. Harry can admit his mistakes, no matter how hard it comes to him, he can also apologise wholeheartedly. He did all those things already, months ago. Which is why he was able to keep her as a friend, not a close one, more like an acquaintance. And she's happy, he can see that, knows it.

Why does he feel like he's still drowning? He's already been pulled from the vast ocean of hers. Harry groans, struggles to open his gate, his good spirits from this morning nowhere to be found.

He doesn't know if it's the memory of her, the fear of loneliness, coincidence and laziness, or a bad habit? But he doesn't text the girl with warm brown eyes, instead he plays the voicemail that sometimes haunts his nightmares, on repeat, for the rest of the night.

///

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///

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Next chapter

[cosmicstardustcastiel]

15x18 Coda, drabble, wishful thinking...

Dean sat where Cas had left him, back up against the brick wall of the dungeon. Hours may have passed but that seemed irrelevant. His mind was in a fog of shock, still trying to process what had just happened here. He felt his phone vibrate against the concrete floor several times but it was like a gnat in the back of his mind. He couldn’t focus. His body felt cold but he couldn’t be bothered to stand. His legs seemed impossibly heavy in this moment. He died enough times to know he must be dying. It was the only explanation for it. Good. When Sam came crashing into the room, following the sound of Dean’s phone buzzing on the floor, dragging his own eyes up from the floor to meet his felt like a Hurculean task. Sam was talking now…but his words weren’t registering. He blinked dumbly at him before Sam froze, seeing the bloody handprint o his shoulder.

“Are you hurt?” Sam’s concern finally cracked through Dean’s mind. The protections his mind had put upto keep him sane were beginning to lower…slowly. Dean looked confused as Sam and Jack both gestured to his arm. Dean turned his head to look and taking in the handprint, promptly kneeled over and vomited onto the floor. Sam’s eyes widened and he rushed over, gripping him under the arms to help him stand. Dean tried to help, no use in being deadweight…

“I’ve got you,” Sam murmured quietly but at those words Dean felt a tear slide down his cheek. Cas had said the same only minutes, hours, days before. He had no sense of time now. “Dean?!” Sam said with increasing alarm as he felt more than saw Dean respond to his innocent sentence of comfort. “What’s wrong? Where’s Cas? What happened with Billie?” Jack saw Sam struggling and he took Dean’s other side, trying to steer him out of the room, but Dean’s inability to cooperate had them gently setting him in the lone chair within the Devil’s Trap. He sunk in on himself like his strings had been cut, holding his head in his hands.

“Dean, is Cas…gone? Did Chuck take him too?” Jack’s voice was so childlike, knowing the monster under the bed was real. That fear drug Dean out of his himself long enough to lift his head, shaking it softly as he swallowed.

“No. The Empty…it…Billie and Cas were taken by the Empty,” Dean said with a shudder that ran down the length of his body. He looked back where the black maw of the Empty had opened. He had a terrible urge to run his hands along the space, press his cheek against the brick, dig his nails into the stone until blood oozed out underneath them…but he had Sam and Jack speaking to him again and he hadn’t heard a word.

“Dean!” Sam barked a command now, frowning in confusion. “Are we in danger? I thought the Empty…”

“Can’t come unless summoned…” Dean said dryly with a bitter smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Then how…” Sam began but Jack’s mouth opened in a soft O and his eyes locked with Deans soundlessly. Dean stared back, recognizing the knowledge on Jack’s face.

“You knew,” Dean growled out, finding comfort in the anger he felt scratching at the shields his mind had erected. Anger he could understand. Anger he could let himself feel. Anger made warmth run to the cold tips of his fingers of toes. He wanted to scream, to shout, to take Jack by the shoulders and shake him…but while the anger scratched at him, another emotion fought to soothe it. Feather soft at first, Cas’ words, painful to recall but important to remember, gently attempted to stifle the growing anger. He was more than his anger. He was…love. Love. He could be the person Cas saw in him.

“I knew about the Deal,” Jack said softly as Sam turned to him in confusion. Jack spoke to them both now, cautious as he saw the flames of anger warring in Dean’s eyes. “When I went to Heaven and you did your spell. The Empty attacked Heaven to retriever me, making the claim that as I was half Angel, I belonged there. Cas…he bargained for my life. His for mine, but the Empty wanted to make him suffer, I think. He offered to go with it right then, but they put terms on it…Cas saved me, and he saved Heaven. Naomi even told him where Michael was because of what he did…”

“So Cas and Billie are both really…” Sam began softly, his voice one of someone trying to diffuse a bomb.

“Gone,” Dean growled out as he again buried his head in his hands, no longer able to raise his anger and lash out. He curled in on himself instead, trying to cling to the warmth it had brought him because he felt so cold.

“We think…” Sam said softly, not sure how to present the information to his breaking brother. “We think everyone is gone. Except us. Chuck took everyone. What do we do now?”

Dean looked up at him with eyes that saw past him, not at him. Sam swallowed hard as Dean said the words he never thought he’d hear. “We lose, Sam. We fucking lose.”

Dean sat numbly on his bed, fully dressed, boots and all, his hand clutching the dried handprint on his arm like a talisman against the pain. He didn’t remember how he got here but he assumed Sam and Jack were involved. Suddenly he blinked and he saw Jack, seeming so small, sitting cross legged near Dean’s door. How long had he been there?

“Hey kid…” Dean growled out, his voice raspy as if he hadn’t spoken in some time.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said softly as he went to stand. “I promised him I’d watch over you if he ever…”

Dean’s eyes locked with Jack’s now and he searched his eyes for pity or blame. He found none.

“What did he say to you?” Dean said shakily, feeling his body dethawing from the head down, but it was painful, letting himself feel again.

“He didn’t have to say it, Dean. I saw who he was before I was ever born. I chose him as my father because of his capacity for good. For his compassion and his loyalty. He loved you very much.”

Dean scrubbed his eyes and threw his legs off the bed, his hands gripping the comforter tightly, trying to keep his grip on something, anything. Realty was tilted and he couldn’t seem to find solid ground. “Where’s Sam?” Dean growled out as he tried to swallow back the despair at Jack’s words.

“He’s researching. Trying to find a way to beat Chuck. To get everyone back,” Jack said softly, even though he had no conviction in his tone.

“It’s hopeless,” Dean added after a moment and Jack nodded softly in agreaance. “Let’s get to work then.” Jack’s head shot up in confusion and Dean forced a stubborn smile to form on lips he still couldn’t feel. “Let’s make that fucker pay for all of it.”

Cas had stared at Dean’s face one last time before the Empty came, wanting that clear picture in his mind to last him the rest of…well, forever. What he hadn’t expected was…any of this. When he’d made it to the Empty, they had kept the form of Meg and they looked remarkably shaken.

“Make it stop!” They’d shrieked at him as soon as his feet felt they were on solid ground. “He made it loud!”

Cas took a step back from them automatically, but they pursued him. He looked around for Billie, but she was nowhere to be found. “She sent him here to hurt me and now there’s so much noise. What did Jack do!?” They screamed now and Cas threw his hands over his ears. The sound was deafening, and his face pinched up painfully as the reverberations made it through.

“I don’t know!” Cas yelled back over their scream.

“Liar! They’re all awake, just like you. All of them!” They yelled again and only then did Cas slowly lower his hands and turn, tilting his head as he squinted his eyes in the darkness. He could slowly make out forms in the nothingness. So many forms. Angelic. Demonic. Some familiar.

“Castiel…Tell us what has happened. What is this place?” came a familiar voice that made Cas flinch reflexively.

“Raphael, big brother. Let’s give the kid a minute to process. I doubt he got the invite to the family reunion either. What’s up little bro?” Gabriel said with a raised eyebrow as he, along with hundreds upon thousands of other figures, began to surround him.

Raphael, Gabriel, Balthazar, Anna, Ishim, Bartholomew, Benjamin, Duma, Hannah…They were all here and all awake…

“We demand answers,” roared the voices of the demons on the other side of the circle. Cas and the Empty stood in the center.

Cas swallowed hard at the sea of faces surrounding him. “This place is where all Angels and Demons go when they die. You are awake because…” Castiel hesitated but he had truly nothing left to lose. “It’s Ch…God. He betrayed us. Everything. All of it was for his own entertainment. There was no mission. No greater good. Every death was to further his plot line and his amusement. He no longer cares about the humans, about Earth, about any of us…If he ever did.”

“How can you say that?” came a strangled cry from a faceless Angel.

“He’s not lying,” came a growl from the Empty, offering begrudging agreaance.  “God is not on anyone’s side but his own. Not anymore. I may not be able to go to Earth…but I can tell you he’s wiped the slate clean except for the Winchesters. It’s just a cat and mouse game now.”

A spark of hope flared up inside him and Cas turned abruptly to the Empty, far closer in proximity that he would like. “I can help you make it quiet here again. I will find a way to help you sleep, but you have to let me help them.”

The Empty stepped back and barked a disbelieving laugh. “Are you kidding me?! I just got you here. A deal’s a deal.”

Castiel shook his head as he spoke. “I didn’t ask you to send me back…Send them. Let them help them defeat God and I will stay.”

“Just you for all of them? You really that’s a fair deal?” the Empty said as they rolled their eyes.

“They didn’t wake you up. I did,” Cas tried to hide the trembling in his hands. If he could do this, he could save Dean. Really save him. He could help him destroy the hamster wheel and give him what he believed he truly needed most. His freedom. The Empty studied him a moment, wincing at the murmuring voices around them. The noise seemed to truly cause them pain.

“Deal,” they said with gritted teeth as they crossed their arms over their chest.

The triumph Cas felt in his chest was only slightly overshadowed by knowing he had truly sealed his own fate once again. One last act of sacrifice for the ones he loved.

[kmsherrard]

In praise of roller coaster rides

“...the thousand concurring accidents of such an audacious enterprise….”

-Herman Melville, Moby Dick

Despite what teachers of high school science classes solemnly intone, this business of doing science is the least straightforward endeavor that can possibly be imagined. This was brought home to me in a series of unfortunate events that unfolded this week.

At first, it seemed to be that rare triumph where my simple test of a straightforward prediction actually yielded a clear positive result, instead of the more typical back-to-the-drawing board head-scratcher. If this were a story, that the protagonist was a protein named Diaphanous could serve as a hint that the plot would not prove as solid as one might hope. (Like many genes first discovered in fruit flies, Diaphanous evokes the appearance of animals lacking a functional version of that protein).

The backstory: Lately, my research has been on how stress fibers remodel  to accommodate the movements of migrating cells. But as I work on cells in intact tissues, namely the rind of follicular cells that envelops the developing cluster of cells that give rise to a fruit fly egg, I like to consider the natural experiments that unfold in the course of normal development. For example, these follicle cells migrate for a time, going round and round like hamsters running on a wheel, but then they stop and do other things, like flatten out and secrete the eggshell. They still have stress fibers—these are long contractile bundles of a similar composition to muscle, that help attach the cells to the fibrous surface outside them. But these later-stage stress fibers are much stouter and of somewhat different composition.

I had already established that the stress fibers in the migrating cells depend on an unusual partner, amusingly called DAAM, to form. The more typical protein to help build stress fibers is DAAM’s cousin Diaphanous, but I’d done experiments depleting Diaphanous that clearly showed it was not needed in this case. When I depleted DAAM, though, the stress fibers got really wispy. Oddly enough, I’d noticed that in the much later stages, after the cells stopped migrating, had stress fibers unaffected by loss of DAAM.

So the experiment I wanted to do next was to deplete Diaphanous in the later stages. This was not completely straightforward to execute, though, because I had to avoid depleting it too early. I’d already seen that this caused cells to have trouble with their normal round of cell divisions. It’s a common problem in this sort of work that it can be harder to study later processes if you mess things up before they have begun to happen. The solution makes use of the dazzling array of tissue-specific drivers of gene expression that have been invented for fruit flies. They allow you to drive expression of a gene at specific times and places, targeting particular processes you want to study. To keep a gene from being expressed, you can use something called RNAi, which basically makes a cell chop up the instructions for making a protein sent from the DNA so that protein does not get produced.

In short, I needed a driver that acted late in the follicle cells but not early. Our lab did not have such a driver, since we study the earlier stages. But we’d read a paper with some very clever experiments that made use of just such a late driver, one called Cy2. We requested the fly stock from one of the paper’s authors and she promptly mailed it off to us. Fly researchers are awesomely generous. It’s a tradition that goes back to the earliest days of the field over a century ago to share reagents this way.

Chapter the First: Quarantine. The flies arrived and had to be put in quarantine, out of an abundance of caution concerning the possible introduction of mites into our hundreds of lab stocks. In practice, this consists of isolating the vials on the top of the lab refrigerator. All stocks that arrive from elsewhere must be taken through quarantine, save those from the renowned and very reliably mite-free Bloomington stock center. It meant a delay to the start of my planned experiment, until I could obtain 3rd instar larvae and wash them, a rather amusing exercise on which I have previously posted.

So there the flies sat, two healthy vials with clearly written labels: Cy2/(Cyo); Dr/TM6b. This cryptic shorthand conveyed that along with the driver I’d asked for, the flies conveniently included markers on another chromosome, in case I wanted to build more things into the stock. Annoyingly, they were all senescent adults and developing pupal cases—ideal for surviving the mailing process, but the worst possible stage of colony development for obtaining sufficient larvae for my purposes. I would have to wait several weeks for the new generation to produce larvae I could wash.

In pre-covid times, I could have done the cross right away with existing males, dissecting the offspring on a quarantine-use microscope belonging to a neighboring lab. Normally we share a lot of equipment freely in our department. But the physical distancing requirements have temporarily stopped that sort of thing. And we can’t risk getting mites onto the equipment we use for all our normal work.

To shorten the waiting time (a frequent concern of fruit fly researchers, especially I would think those of us who work on adult rather than embryonic or larval structures, meaning our crosses must extend to the full 10+ days of development time beyond any stock-building that precedes it), I planned to wash enough larvae to siphon off a number of males for the experimental cross. To that end, I also began “blowing up” the stocks I would obtain the females from; I could virgin them ahead of time and have them all ready to go as soon as their husbands emerged from their pupal cases.

When you’re waiting to wash a quarantine stock, impatient for the experiment to begin, they seem to take longer to develop, much like a watched pot. The stock contained the mutation Tubby, which makes for shorter flies but a longer developmental time, so that was part of it. Also room temperature (on top of the fridge) slows development compared to the flies’ optimal temperature of 25 C (that’s 77 to your Fahrenheiters...and to be honest, most of us American scientists are very compartmentalized in their understanding of Celsius; outside of the lab context we speak it no better than the average U.S. citizen). So far, then, the slowness makes sense both physical and psychological. But why the quarantined flies should always produce their burst of 3rd instar larvae on a weekend day, and on the one weekend day I don’t pop into the lab, is more puzzling. But it is the rule, I have found.

I wasn’t going to let it happen this time. I watched them like a hawk (a mosquito hawk?) and sure enough, it was a Sunday when all the larvae began to wander. Wandering larvae is the other, more romantic name for the 3rd instar of Drosophila melanogaster, because they have at last eaten their fill of the mushy rotten fruit they have been burrowing through, and there is nothing else for them to do but come out into the light and air and begin to claim their inheritance as winged creatures of the sky. First, though, they must choose a spot in which to prepare their new bodies. Here in that lab, they climb around on the clean walls of the vial, above the caramel-colored dollop of food, fat, juicy larvae as big as a good-sized grain of rice, big enough to grasp gently in forceps and take through the three ritual baths, soapy water, ethanol, and salty water, that remove any lurking mites or mite eggs from their surfaces. After being placed in a fresh vial and wicked dry with a twist of Kimwipe (lab Kleenex), they will crawl around a bit more, mingling with their certified-mite-free compatriots. In a few more hours they will settle down, stop moving, and let their skins harden into bark. Inside that bark, they pretty much dissolve themselves, save for a few set-aside clusters of cells. They go on to rebuild their bodies into the adult form, complete with intricate jointed legs and multitudinously-faceted eyes and iridescent, cellophane-like wings over the course of about a week (at room temperature).

I spent several hours washing more larvae than usual to establish a clean stock, wanting to have plenty of extra males to father the experimental crosses. If I’d had access to the quarantine microscope, I could have selected extra male larvae—you can already distinguish males and females at this stage-- but it would not really have saved time. I played the numbers game instead. It was a Sunday afternoon, quietest time of the week in lab, and very peaceful. I took my time and changed the bath solutions often to make sure there wasn’t too much soapy water in the ethanol or too much ethanol in the final rinse. I wanted this all to go smoothly with no delays.

I put the now-lawful vial in the 25C incubator to develop, after carefully copying the genotype from the original handwritten labels: Cy2/(Cyo); Dr/TM6b. Incidentally, there are lots of markers of chromosomes, many going back to the original mutations described by early fly workers such as Calvin Bridges and Alfred Sturtevant. They let you follow with visible traits the invisible genes that you wish to follow through the generations. Various labs have their favorite markers, but some such as Cyo (which makes for curly wings) are ubiquitous, and Dr and TM6b were familiar to me as well. Dr (short for Dropped, I don’t know why) makes the eyes very slitted, and TM6b is a whole set of markers that comprises what is called a balancer chromosome: a chromosome that has been scrambled and rearranged so that even though it still has all its genes, they are in the wrong places. This means that none of the usual recombination between sister chromosomes that occurs when egg and sperm form can happen. The advantage to the researcher is that this keeps genes segregated in predictable places. Otherwise, all those markers would not be reliable indicators letting you keep track of the genes you put in place from one generation to another. TM6b can actually include various different markers, but one of them is Tb, easy to recognize in both the shorter larvae and pupal cases and to some extent discernible in adults as well.

Chapter the Second: Cross Purposes. Fast forward two weeks (you can—I sadly could not—this being November of 2020, I would certainly have appreciated the distraction). So I waited, none too patiently, for the new adults to emerge. Meanwhile, I tended the stocks I would virgin for females: two different RNAi lines for Diaphanous and one, a control, for its cousin DAAM which I already knew was not required for the later-stage stress fibers. I built up a collection of ladies in waiting, captured shortly after their eclosion and isolated in vials away from all male contact, so I could be sure their offspring would be the genotype I wanted. [A note about the term ‘eclosion’: one might be tempted to call the emergence of the adults from their pupal cases ‘hatching’, but that term is reserved for the larvae coming out their eggshell. You only hatch once, even in the doubled lifestyle of these metamorphosing beasties.]

Finally the washed flies began to eclose. All my usable Cy2 flies were in that one vial. I briefly knocked them out with carbon dioxide gas, used a fine paintbrush to separate the males, and added 3 males each to the three bevvies of expectant females. There were still a few males left, enough to establish the new stock of Cy2 for future use.

At last, more than a month after conceiving it, I’d begun the experimental cross. It would be two more weeks before I had the flies to dissect and the beginnings of an answer. Fly work involves a lot of waiting, and to cope with that we tend to have a lot of irons in the fire. All that juggling can be rather distracting. Sometimes, depending on how other experiments have gone in the interim, I’ve unfortunately moved on from the original urgency of a question by the time the flies are ready to examine. It’s a hazard of the work.

Though I did not yet realize it, I’d made two mistakes. First, I should have looked a bit more carefully at those Cy flies. Second, I should have done the proper control. Sure, crossing them to the DAAM flies was a pretty good control, but there was an even stricter one, that tested whether the driver stock alone had any effect (it should not, but you like to be sure). I should have crossed the Cy2 flies to what we call wild-type, a stock called w1118 that has white eyes, incidentally [link] the first fly mutant ever identified and the foundation of fly genetics.

I hadn’t wanted to use up any more of my precious males, and figured I could always do that control later, if the experiment turned out promising. A lot of us cut corners that way, and it isn’t necessarily less efficient. But sometimes it snarls you up and wastes your time instead of saving it, and makes you go through all sorts of contortions trying to make sense of your data with less information than you should have had.

Chapter the Third: The Experiment. I waited out that two weeks, pursuing other work and trying not to pay too much attention to the news. I wore my mask and stayed in touch with my loved ones over zoom and the like. I hung up bird feeders to entertain my cats and my family alike. I went on long walks by the lake. Time passed. At last the grand day arrived: my experimental flies had begun to eclose. I gassed them and tapped them out of the CO2 pad. Now here was a wrinkle I’d shoved to the back of my mind: those extra markers that I didn’t need, the Dr and TM6b. In a clean experiment I’d have gotten rid of them, but that would have required another couple generations. I’d wanted a quick provisional answer, in order to decide whether it was worth the time and trouble to do the more careful version of the experiment. So: would I dissect the TM6b-carrying flies, or the Dr-carrying flies? It had to be one or the other. The balancer chromosome carries a number of mutations so it would be more likely to do something weird to the cells I was interested in. Not that that was very likely, but I might as well be careful. Dr it was then: that only affected the eyes, as far as I knew. What were the chances it would mess up my experiment on stress fibers in follicle cells?

But none of the flies had Dr eyes. That was odd. I looked closer. Half of them sure looked like Tb flies, shorter and a bit chubbier, though you never want to depend on your ability to discern that marker in adults. The others, the longer ones? They did have some oddly short hairs on their dorsal thorax (around the back of the lower neck, if you want to be anthropomorphic about it), much shorter than the clipped ones you see with the marker Stubble. It kind of reminded me of a marker I’d seen once or twice. Well, that must be what these were; maybe the label had been written wrong.

Impatient to get the experiment done, I swept the short-haired flies into a fresh vial with a bit of yeast. The yeast was to encourage egg production (they’re called fruit flies or vinegar flies, but it’s really the yeast on the rotting fruit that they’re after). I added a few males which were there for the same end. You could say the way to a fine set of ovaries is through both the heart and the stomach. Two more days to go before the dissection. For good measure I put some plain-vanilla w1118 flies on yeast to serve as extra controls.

On the appointed day, I got out my fiercely pointed #55 forceps and began the dissection. I nearly messed up by dissecting the early stages by habit—the technique to do so destroys most of the older egg chambers—but luckily remembered what I was about it time, and switched to the method to optimize acquisition of undamaged later stages. I fixed for 15 minutes in 4% paraformaldehyde, rinsed three times in phosphate-buffered saline solution with Triton-X detergent, and added a stain that would label the filamentous actin, the principle component of stress fibers among many other cellular structures. I put it in the lab fridge (the one where no food is allowed!) to stain overnight. The next morning, early, I came in and rinsed off the stain and made slides. Then I went to the womb-like room where one of my favorite workhouse microscope lives, the renowned Nikon 800 laser scanning confocal microscope. I did the necessary 2020 ritual wipe-down of all surfaces with 70% ethanol, and fired her up.

And oh, it was beautiful. I was so disciplined; I began with the controls to set up the correct laser intensity and gain at which to collect all the images, so the brighter ones would not be out of the range of measurable brightness and everything could be properly quantified. But it was already clear from the what I saw on the computer screen as I centered examples, focused, and took images that the experimental egg chambers had strongly reduced stress fibers. I took lots of pictures, happy that for once my experiment had gone as planned and given me a clear answer.

Also, can I just say how much I love the stain Oregon Green phalloidin? The name itself is lovely: as a native of the Pacific northwest I find it so evocative: the green of deep cushiony moss and ferns and forests of hemlock and douglas firs; and phalloidin itself is a stain derived from mushrooms with which those forests are rife. (Phalloidin, now there’s a scary toxin: it binds so tightly to filamentous actin that it stops your heart. Unlike a lot of other toxins, it doesn’t make you nauseated, so you absorb it until it’s too late for any antidote. But that’s why it’s such a good stain. You just have to wear gloves, or wash your hands after pipetting it. And we all wash our hands so often nowadays it makes no never mind.) There’s red phalloidin, and far-red phalloidin, and even ultraviolet phalloidin (but most microscopes don’t have the right filter sets to light it up very well): but green phalloidin is the king as far as I’m concerned. So bright, and a short enough wavelength (only 488 nanometers, vs. 566 or 647) that it shows up structures the more finely. You can definitely see the difference: it’s sharp as can be.

So, I had the preliminary results I had hoped for: the Diaphanous flies had reduced stress fibers. It doesn’t actually happen to me all that often, that I get a clear answer, either what I predicted or the opposite which is almost as good in science. At least that’s progress, an increase in understanding. No, usually I stumble over these head-scratchers of outcomes. Interesting results, but interesting in a complicated way that require a lot more work to make sense of, if you ever do. It’s partly down to most of my experiments involving imaging with a microscope: you get a lot of unexpected information that way, if you keep your eyes open. But it’s also that I seem to be attracted to the sort of problem that does not yield neat answers—the way some people are attracted to overly hairy guys on motorcycles who are a bit too into mild-altering substances and petty crime. I think I’m the one to straighten them out, but usually I’m the one who gets burned. But this time I had prevailed!

This was just a start; of course I needed to replicate, do some more dissections, get more numbers, reach levels of statistical unassailibility. In particular, I didn’t have as many clear examples of the DAAM control as I needed. Also, I’d do the proper control, and maybe even un-double-balance that Cy2 stock to get rid of the pesky extra markers.

Chapter the Fourth: The morning after. Yeah, and now I’d better take the time to figure out what is going on with that marker that is not Dr. Because, unlikely as it was, wouldn’t it be a shame if it were somehow affecting my results? Worst-case scenario—because that’s how we self-questioning scientists have to operate, ever since the dawn of time or at least the Enlightenment—worst-case scenario, then, is this marker, whatever it is, is the thing responsible for the reduction in stress fibers. Oh, but that’s very unlikely, I tell myself. Besides, the DAAM controls didn’t have reduced stress fibers.

I looked at the original handwritten label, still on the vial of flies on top of the fridge in quarantine. Maybe that D might actually be a P. What was Pr? I’d never heard of it.

I went to the master compendium of fruit fly genetics, FlyBase.org, and looked up Pr. Purple, an eye color gene on the first chromosome. I was looking for a gene on the third chromosome, so that couldn’t be it. I tried a different approach: I DuckDuckWent (DuckDuckGoed doesn’t sound right; if you haven’t heard of it, it’s a more private alternative to Google) images of Drosophila markers. There was that classic poster I’ve seen hanging in various labs, of the most common markers. And there was that marker I’d been reminded of, with the very short hairs. Sn it was called. Could that be my marker? It would have to be some pretty bad handwriting, to make an S look like a D; r to n is easier to imagine.

I went back to FlyBase and looked up Sn. It was the gene Singed. Like if you got to close to the outdoor fire pit on the patio (a way to safely hang out with your friends outdoors even during the Chicago winter), and singed your eyebrows most of the way off (and no, I haven’t done that yet). Also on the first chromosome, though. But look here, this is interesting: Singed is an actin-bundling protein. I read further down the page that summarized the work of dozens or hundreds of researchers over the decades. Yes, it was expressed in the ovaries, and yes, it was known to affect stress fibers. That would be worrying if it were my marker. Lucky it’s not.

I wasn’t getting anywhere. I tried yet another method, going to the webpage for the Bloomington stock center. It’s very well organized, and they have a page showing the details of all the balancer stocks they keep. There ought to be a clue here, for any marker that a researcher could assume another lab would recognize. I go down the list to the TM6b stocks, and find it. Pri, aka Pr, for Prickly. Causes short thoracic bristles. That’s my guy.

Back on FlyBase, I learn that Prickly is one of the classic mutants discovered in the early days of fly research. And this is weird: it has not been annotated. That is, nobody has figured out what gene it is a mutation of, let alone what biological processes it participates in or what tissues it’s expressed in (this matters because if it’s not active in the follicle cells, my experiment would still be valid). They could; it’s a straightforward enough task given that the whole genome is sequenced, but apparently it’s not one that anyone’s found worthwhile. So all we know is it makes very short, deformed bristles that look to me a lot like those of Sn.

Okay, now I am getting worried. What are the chances that this is NOT a protein that affects something like actin bundling and therefore messes up stress fibers? Maybe I had only seen what I wanted to see with the DAAM control. That’s a hazard of doing science, because it’s a hazard of being human. That’s why controls are so important. I consider my experiment in this new and harsher light. Maybe the Diaphanous results are just a phantom of wish fulfillment, summoned by this Prickly hitchhiker I’d never meant to take along for the ride.

I’d already begun the proper control that would answer this question, but meanwhile, while I wait for those flies to emerge, is there anything else I can do? Maybe I should dissect those formerly scorned Tubby flies; at least they lack Prickly. But according to the list at Bloomington, that particular stock has a number of other mutations on its TM6b chromosome, including one called Bri. Bri is a twin of Pri in more ways than one: it also causes very short bristles, and is also unannotated so we have no idea what protein it makes or when or where it acts in the body. Without asking the researchers who sent me the flies, I had no way of knowing if Bri was in there or not.

It would be a bit awkward quizzing them about their flies. We all tend to overdo the shorthand in labeling our stocks, and don’t always remember all the extra mutations lurking there. It’s tripped me up before, when I uncovered interacting mutations I hadn’t known to worry about until they unhinged my crosses. Don’t get me started on vermillian eye color: it’s a real bear. Either way, I’d have to check the controls and unbalance the stock to have a real answer, so probably better not to pester them.

I can’t resist having a quick peek at the TM6b flies though; I’ll be dissecting them tomorrow and should know by Sunday or Monday if the Diaphanous results are evaporating or not...that is, if Bri or something else is not further muddying the waters. A positive result would be definitive; a negative one will require further research. Well, either one will require further research, but one will be more cheerful and the other more like putting nails in a coffin of my hopes one more time. And that, my friends, is what it’s like to do science. (At least I get to see more Oregon green on the confocal, though).

Epilogue. What lessons can we draw from this (mis)adventure, this stomach-churning roller coaster ride of thrills and doubts that is my life in science?

1. Do the proper controls from the beginning. (Although that would have cut out the thrills as well as the doubts, so to be honest, I’m not totally on board with this one).

2. Take the time to look at the flies you are about to cross, and make sure they have the markers you expect. Harder, probably unrealistically hard, is to make sure they don’t have the markers you don’t expect. That would require a Rumsfeldian level of perceiving unknowns unknowns.

3. Remember the limitations of shorthand for conveying a genotype, which like the face we present to the world is invariably far more complex than there is room enough and time to write out.

4. Murphy’s law reigns supreme in this world of ours. What were the chances that the unwanted marker  I’d thought I could ignore for a first-pass experiment would turn out to be a different marker I’d never heard of that might  affect stress fibers in my cells? Still, it made for a good story, which I haven’t come across in all this interminable slog of an Autumn.

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 8

I started out this angsty chapter with a fluffy flashback to stomp on people’s feelings, oops.

> Read it here on Ao3 <

> Read it here on Wattpad <

CHAPTER 8:  ABBANDONO

Glossary: Mon soleil: My sun

Ten Years Ago (Mood Music: Hymne à l’amour - Josh Groban)

“So, what do you think? Red or blue?” a mild, baritone voice crooned over Adrien’s shoulder.

Adrien scrutinized the shimmery fabric, slowly running his fingers over its length, his small hands not quite able to hold the entirety of the garment. “Definitely blue,” he concluded. “It’s her favorite.”

“Indeed, it is. Sapphire blue, to be exact,” Gabriel remarked, placing the gowns into their respective boxes. “Your mother is a remarkable woman, and she deserves nothing but the best. Especially on her birthday.”

“Wanna see the card I made for her?” Adrien chirped eagerly as he hopped off the chair to retrieve the aforementioned card from a nearby table.

Gabriel took the card gingerly and held it up, careful to not get any of the overabundant glitter on himself. “Hmm, your picture of– a… goat, is it?– is quite charming.”

Adrien giggled, his toothy smile displaying two missing front teeth, which he’d recently lost (and been richly recompensed for). “It’s not a goat, it’s a hamster!”

Gabriel managed to hide his surprise well. “Ah, yes, of course. Also, your handwriting has improved, and your spelling is impeccable. Perfect as always,” he remarked as he handed the card back.

“Thanks, Papa!” Adrien beamed, thrilled that his efforts were acknowledged. “I’ve been practicing!”

Gabriel smiled back fondly. He put a hand on Adrien’s shoulder and said, “Come, it’s dinnertime. Let’s meet up with your mother.”

Once the card was put away, the pair traversed down the spacious halls of the mansion towards the dining room.

“I can’t wait til her surprise party on Saturday!” Adrien whispered to his father as they walked, buzzing with excitement. “I wish it was here already!”

Gabriel chuckled, amused by his son’s enthusiasm. “Well, until we figure out a way to time travel, we’ll just have to wait, and keep it a secret.”

Later that night, Emilie Agreste assisted a freshly bathed Adrien in brushing his teeth.

“Have you been enjoying your piano lessons, mon soleil?”

“Mnnnh-hnn!” Adrien mumbled approvingly.

“I’m glad. You should play for me tomorrow and show me that new piece you’ve been working on,” she replied, trying to brush out some rather stubborn hair on either side of his head. “Hmm, I can’t get these cowlicks to stay down,” she said with mock irritation. Her mouth quirked upward and she spiked the hair up even higher with her fingertips. “They kind of look like cat ears, don’t you think? You’re definitely the cutest kitten I’ve ever seen,” she joked, ruffling his soft, damp hair.

Adrien giggled, mouth still full of toothpaste.

“Except that this little kitten loooooves his bath time, doesn’t he?” she remarked as she finally succeeded in smoothing out his hair. “And you know what instruments cats play, instead of the piano?” she asked casually.

Adrien’s eyebrows rose up in silent question as he swished water in his mouth.

She leaned down by his head and playfully replied, “Purr- cussion.”

With a loud snort, Adrien sprayed water all over the bathroom mirror as he busted out laughing. Emilie giggled mischievously, doubling over with laughter at Adrien’s stupefied face.

“Mama, that was soooo cheesy!” he laughed, wiping the water and toothpaste that dribbled down his chin.

Snickering through her teeth, she replied, “Well, you still laughed, so it can’t have been that bad!”

“If Papa hears it, you’ll be in treble,” he countered, and Emilie’s snickering turned into a full-blown cackle.

Still giggling, they quickly wiped down the mirror and countertops, then strolled down the halls towards Gabriel’s office.

Emilie rapped on the door a couple of times before opening it, peering around to look for him.

Gabriel sat behind his desk, poring over his work. “Yes?” he answered as he wrote.

“Helloooo~ my darling husband,” Emilie lilted coquettishly.

Gabriel lifted his head, then smiled when he saw the two of them. “Ah, it’s my two favorite people in the world. What can I do for you?”

“Our little sunshine child is here to say goodnight,” Emilie replied, shuffling Adrien into the enormous room.

“Oh!” Gabriel glanced at the clock, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t realize it was that time of the day already,” he said, stretching out his stiff limbs. He pushed his chair back and waited for his son as he scampered towards him.

The seven-year-old leaped into his father’s arms, causing him to grunt slightly and making the wheeled desk chair scoot back a few inches.

Gabriel chuckled and patted Adrien’s head. “If you’re big enough to knock the wind out of me, you’re old enough to help me with all this paperwork.”

Emilie leaned on the doorframe, looking on warmly. “He’s definitely having a growth spurt; he keeps outgrowing all his clothes!”

A female voice behind her spoke, “Would you like me to order some new clothes for him, Emilie?”

Emilie turned around to face the desk on the other side of the room, and beamed. “Oh, would you, Nathalie? You’re the best!”

Adrien returned to his mother, waving back enthusiastically as he was ushered out, “Good night, Nathalie! Don’t work too hard!”

The door closed behind them and the room was quiet once again. Gabriel and Nathalie looked at each other with matching grins, silently acknowledging how Emilie and Adrien carried such life and exuberance wherever they went.

Nathalie remarked as she resumed organizing some documents, “He becomes more and more like his mother every day, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he certainly does,” Gabriel replied as he leaned back in his chair, his smile growing wider. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Current Timeline

(Mood Music: Reborn - Abel Korzeniowski)

Chat Noir leaped and sprinted towards his mansion on autopilot; pulse thrilling, limbs aching, and yet he felt none of it. The only thing he could register was the steadily climbing resentment and indignation as he thought back to every interaction, every snub, all the unfairness, mistreatment, and neglect he’d suffered (as well as repressed) throughout the past few years.

He’d seen the signs of Gabriel’s downward spiral. They were subtle at first, but unmistakable. And yet he had stubbornly continued to ignore them. He’d even rationalized them, always coming up with some excuse or explanation so he wouldn’t have to face the music. He realized it now; his passiveness had been his gravest mistake.

Upon reaching the last building on the block before his destination, Chat skidded to a halt. In the past, when he returned home, he would take a winding route so as to lose anyone who might try to follow, and once he was sure he was alone, enter through the back way. Today, he didn't care who saw him standing on the roof in front of his home. He crouched in silence, staring at the Agreste manor; it looked just as imposing, dreary, and lifeless on the outside as it felt on the inside.

He squared himself, trying to calm his nerves. Gabriel would be expecting him. Chat bit his lip, realizing that he still had no idea what to say to him. But then again, he wasn’t the type to go into things with a plan anyway; improvisation was more his style.

Finally, he stood and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

Adrien had scarcely landed in his bedroom and detransformed when he was sharply yanked by the arm towards the couch. There was a duffel bag and a pile of clothes haphazardly thrown in, as well as some toiletries and other necessities. He also spotted a large wad of cash and… was that his passport?

Nathalie shut the zipper and practically threw the bag into his arms. “Adrien, you need to leave,” she uttered low as she briskly walked him back towards the large windows, the unmistakable dread in her eyes betraying her seemingly calm exterior. “Now,” she added emphatically, noting his lack of movement.

Taken aback, Adrien stammered, “Nathalie, wha–?”

She continued, indistinct, “You’re going to get on the metro and take the train out of Paris– any destination, it doesn’t matter. Leave your phone here; he can track you if you take it with you. When you arrive, check into a hotel, then–”

“Wait! Nathalie!” he called louder to get her attention. “What’s going on?” He stared, bewildered, as Plagg peeked his head out of his shirt pocket, slowly biting into a piece of Camembert.

The woman frowned and asked rhetorically, “Were you not there during the last akuma battle?! There’s no time to discuss this; you need to leave the city.”

“Hang on, I can’t leave Paris!” Adrien protested.

She fixed him with an intense stare. “I don’t think you truly understand the situation, Adrien. Gabriel is your father, but he is also Hawkmoth. And, as of earlier today, your enemy. An enemy who knows who you are, where you live, where you sleep. Not only is he planning to take your miraculous; he’s going to place you under permanent house arrest. In fact, the term ‘house arrest’ is way too mild a description, but I’m sure you get the idea.” She took his shoulder and continued to walk him towards the window. “Now, go, before he realizes you’re here.”

Adrien knitted his brows and planted his feet. “Wait! But what about you? What about Ladybug?”

Nathalie replied dismissively, “I’ll be fine; he won’t even know I was involved with your departure. And Ladybug, she’ll continue to handle herself as she always has. But with you gone, we can at least guarantee that Hawkmoth won’t get ahold of both miraculouses, in the event that she’s defeated.”

Adrien’s eyes widened at this statement. “No. No! This is exactly why I can’t leave. I can’t leave her by herself against Father.” He ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I won’t let what happened today happen again. She needs me. She can’t just keep defeating his akumas over and over; Father needs to be actually stopped. We need to take his miraculous away. And it’s going to take both of us to do it.”

Nathalie snapped. “You can’t beat him! He’s developed the abilities from his miraculous far beyond what you could’ve ever thought capable and unlocked much of its potential; far more than you have with your own.”

Adrien could only stare in shock as she continued to speak.

She sighed, letting go of his shoulder. “Ladybug can deal with Hawkmoth. She’ll either defeat him, or she won’t. But your priority should be to stay as far away as possible and be safe. You need to think of yourself, Adrien.”

He shook his head. “I’m done thinking only about myself. It’s what I’ve been doing for years, just blindly following orders. I need to start doing what’s right instead of always sticking to what’s safe.”

Nathalie narrowed her eyes in equal parts consternation and puzzlement. “So what will you do instead?”

Adrien set down the duffel bag and took a step away from her towards his bedroom door, motioning with his hand. “I’ll talk to him. I can reason with him, I know I can. There must be some part of him that’s still willing to listen.”

Nathalie paced back and forth, placing both hands on her face, almost as if she was trying to keep her body from exploding. With a hint of desperation, she implored, “Adrien... please reconsider.”

“Nathalie… I know you’re worried, but I can’t–” his voice cracked, and he had to pause for a few seconds. “I can’t leave Mom here with him,” he declared with finality, tone heavy and full of sadness.

Nathalie deflated and she lowered her head, squeezing her eyes shut. He’d pulled the “Emilie” card. She knew immediately that she wasn’t going to win this argument.

Somewhere deep down, Nathalie had truly always believed Emilie could be re-awakened. It was one of the biggest reasons why she’d stayed with the Agrestes all these years.

She missed her too; Emilie was her best friend. Her pillar of strength. The light in her heart. The woman that she’d always loved from afar since childhood, never acting on her feelings until it was too late. And yet, she still could never leave her side. She had to remain part of her life, even if her secret would die with her. When Emilie “disappeared”, Nathalie took it upon herself to protect everything that was most important to her beloved. She had already failed with Emilie’s husband. But she would not allow it to happen with her only son too.

She sighed heavily. “Just… be careful, Adrien. You don’t know what he’s truly capable of. I swore to Emilie that I’d do my best to take care of you, before she— before...”

Adrien walked towards her and placed his hands on her shoulders reassuringly. “I know,” he said quietly, smiling, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “Everything’s going to be okay.” Plagg looked up at him, concern etched on his tiny features.

Nathalie was a tall woman, but now that Adrien was older and only a few weeks shy of being an official adult, he had already surpassed her height. In spite of this, even now, she continually struggled to remember that he wasn’t a child anymore. Nathalie’s tired eyes met Adrien’s, and she shakily reached up to squeeze one of his hands, a bit harder than she’d intended but he didn’t seem to notice.

With nothing more to be said, Adrien plodded out of the room as if his legs were made of lead, and Nathalie was left alone with the overwhelming sense of foreboding raging in her chest.

(Mood Music: Morning Passage - The Hours)

Adrien stood in front of Gabriel’s office door. He could feel goosebumps forming on his arms and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rising. He would much prefer to hop on that long-distance train that Nathalie suggested rather than face his father, but he knew this confrontation had been a long time coming.

So he knocked.

There was no answer. A moment later he opened the door and looked inside. Gabriel was at his desk, but did not react to his presence. Nooroo sat on a pile of books, but from the looks of it, he wasn’t permitted to speak, as usual. Adrien stepped in and closed the door, but still, Gabriel would not look up from his papers.

The pit in Adrien’s stomach grew larger. Was he no longer even considered worthy to be acknowledged? The mounting frustration spurred him on as he walked further into the room.

Putting on a false confident air, he finally spoke, “Father... it’s time we really talk.”

Gabriel ignored him, casually leafing through his paperwork and scribbling in his notebook on occasion. Nooroo eyed him wearily, then back at Adrien.

Adrien straightened up to his full height, bristling with rage. “At least look at me when I talk to you!” Adrien snarled. “It’s the least you could do after everything I’ve done for you all these years!”

Gabriel finally lifted his gaze, a lofty look pasted on his face as if Adrien were nothing more than an annoying fly that entered the room.

“What is there to say? I’m sure you can predict what comes next,” Gabriel replied, leaning back on his massive chair and steepling his fingers. “However, since you obviously seem to be having trouble thinking clearly lately, I’ll give you a hint.” His eyebrows furrowed in displeasure; his voice became darker. “Effective immediately, you will surrender your miraculous, and are hereby forbidden to leave the mansion indefinitely.”

Adrien widened his eyes, not in surprise but in outrage. “No,” he stated simply.

“That wasn’t a request.” Gabriel eyed him carefully, disapproval evident in his face. “You knew this would happen when you disobeyed me. Why try to fight it?”

Adrien inhaled sharply and braced himself for what he was about to say next. “Because what we’re doing is wrong.”

The older man chuckled with that ever-present condescending air to his voice. “Since when do you care about right and wrong? This was never about being the stereotypical ‘good guys’ and changing the world one good deed at a time. This was always about gaining power. Power that we need for a perfectly legitimate reason. And now, apparently, you’ve got morals, suddenly pretending to care about others.” He fixed Adrien with a steely glare. “Life is not black and white, Adrien. My methods may seem unconventional and, I’ll admit, even controversial. But at least I’m no hypocrite.”

Adrien suppressed a growl, recoiling in vexation and distress. It was like a sack of hot coals had been dropped into his stomach, searing him with the guilt that had always been there, but had now grown tenfold. Gabriel somehow always managed to find a way to make him feel like a horrible human being.

But... he wasn’t wrong. Chat Noir was just as guilty as Hawkmoth was for putting the city in danger, even if their motives were slightly different. How could he possibly argue with him, when he was just as responsible for harming the innocent? Could his father be right? Was there no escaping the giant pit he’d dug for himself? His throat felt dry, and he couldn’t help but wilt under his father’s judgmental gaze.

It was at that moment that his mind decided to reflect upon the time he’d spent with Ladybug. Nowadays, the thought of her brought him hope and courage, for reasons he’d only recently begun to understand. She was a beautiful light that shone brighter and brighter the more he got to know her, illuminating the dark prison he’d been trapped in for so long.

He recalled how she’d apologized to him for putting him in danger as Adrien. She’d acknowledged her mistakes, then set forth to rectify them. And as Chat, who had been her enemy for years, even knowing what he’d done, she was still willing to try to help him be free. Ladybug was the only person outside of their family circle that knew about his double life. She didn’t feel that he was unworthy of redemption, and she actually believed in him. Somehow she had welcomed him as her partner despite their past, despite his background, despite knowing who his father was, despite everything.

He recognized that wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to accomplish anything. His eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought. Admitting that you’re wrong is not a weakness. It’s a strength.

Adrien straightened up subconsciously, drawing courage and determination from the faith and confidence that Ladybug had in him.

“People change,” he finally replied, stepping forward. “We can both change. Father, just listen! We’ve been terrorizing the city, putting its entire population in peril for so long, and for nothing! We can’t keep doing this,” he stated, almost pleadingly.

“Oh, it’s not for nothing,” Gabriel raised his eyebrows, carefully eyeing Adrien. “Think about what happened today. About how you failed me. We would have succeeded were it not for your complete and utter ineptitude,” he continued with unconcealed irritation and disdain, his voice sounding colder and more severe now that they were talking face to face instead of through a communicator.

Adrien clenched his fists so tightly that his fingernails dug into his palms. He had to convince him. “You’re going to kill people,” he stated, fighting to keep his voice from quavering.

Gabriel tsked and waved dismissively. “Don’t be so callow. Sacrifices must be made; you and I both agreed on that long ago.”

“I was a child!!” Adrien shouted, an unbearable heat forming at the base of his neck, the tension in the room almost suffocating. “I was a scared kid who had just lost his mother and was desperate to bring her back, and you were my father! I trusted you, believed that you would know what to do!” He lowered his voice, struggling to calm down. “You failed ME, Father. Not the other way around. And if you don’t stop you’ll end up losing your whole family.”

Gabriel inhaled sharply. “When I succeed and you get your mother back, as undeserving as you are, you’ll see the error of your ways and beg for my forgiveness!”

“Mom will never forgive you when she finds out what you’ve done!” Adrien countered emphatically. “What WE’VE done! Father, we’ve been wrong. All these years, we’ve done something unforgivable, caused pain to so many people! But we can put a stop to this now. We can end this and together we can find another way to help mom. Ladybug can help us!”

“Do NOT bring up that insect!! You know that’s completely out of the question!” Gabriel snarled. “I will continue on my mission and so will you, if you know what’s good for you.”

“I can’t,” Adrien said, resolute. “I won’t," he declared, stronger now. “And I won’t let you do it either. I’m not going to let you hurt innocent people anymore. It’s not what Mom would want, and we both know it.”

Gabriel replied, enraged, “How would you know what she would want?! I’m the one who knew her best! Whether I have to force you to help me, or take your power back and use it for myself; one way or another, I WILL bring my Emilie back to life!”

Adrien felt as if he’d been physically struck. “Back… back to life?” He searched his father’s eyes in confusion. “What do you mean ‘back to life’? M-mom isn’t— she’s in a coma, she’s not... You said—”

“Your mother’s dead, Adrien,” Gabriel spat, shooting him a venomous look.

Adrien gaped at him in disbelief, struggling to keep his legs from buckling. He wanted to call his father a liar. He wanted to curse at him and yell at him at the top of his lungs that he was mistaken. But he couldn’t. Somewhere inside he knew it was true.

“You… you lied to me?”

Gabriel ignored his question. “This is why we need the miraculous of creation,” he explained, exasperated. “Your mother doesn’t need healing. She needs to be revived.” He shifted in his chair, crossing his arms, as if the whole conversation was all too irritating to have to endure. “Do you understand now? Why it’s so important to acquire those earrings?”

Adrien stood there, incredulous, in the middle of the spacious yet overwhelmingly stifling hall. Was this really happening? This was literally the subject of so many of his nightmares, where he would awaken sobbing and hyperventilating.

So why wasn’t he crying? Why wasn’t he screaming? He felt numb. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe.

His mother.

His kind, beautiful mother, who had loved him, held him, protected him. His biggest source of comfort as a child, the best example of pure, unconditional love. The thought of her being gone permanently had been so devastating and overpowering that he’d desperately fought to make sure it would never come to pass, and had fiercely held onto even the tiniest sliver of hope his father had offered.

And yet, in reality, the possibility of bringing her back was so much smaller than he’d ever imagined, and it had always been that small. Had all his hopes of seeing her again been based solely on Gabriel’s shaky conjecture and ambiguous knowledge of magic? What else had his father been hiding from him?

Finally regaining control of his voice, Adrien whispered, “That means… she’s gone. She’s really gone…” He fought a sudden wave of lightheadedness and nausea, his heart beating a violent rhythm inside his chest.

“NO!! She isn’t!! ” Gabriel roared, his voice steadily rising in pitch. “She’s well within reach and I will save her. I will never surrender her. She is my wife, my soul, my everything! You don’t have the capability to even begin to comprehend the depths of my love for her.”

Adrien seethed at the insinuation that he didn’t love his own mother as much as Gabriel did, but decided to continue to try to reason with him instead of rising to the bait. “But she IS gone, Father! It’s just the two of us now! We need to accept this. We need to come to terms with the fact that she won’t be coming back so we can begin to heal! And, if we stick together and help each other, then I think… I think we can even be a family again.”

Gabriel threw his head back and laughed, a dark, throaty rumble that echoed throughout the spacious room.

“Adrien,” he said finally, looking down his nose at him. “I honestly don’t give a damn what you think.”

He abruptly rose from his chair and walked towards the large portrait of Emilie, activating the hidden lift to his lair, with Nooroo trailing behind.

Adrien raised his eyebrows, unable to do anything but stand stupefied for several seconds. Snapping out of it, he stomped angrily towards the small elevator as Gabriel ascended.

“What the hell?! You are not walking away from me! We’re not done here!!” But his father didn’t even turn around.

Enraged, Adrien summoned the elevator impatiently, clearly not satisfied with his father’s sudden termination of their discussion.

Upon arrival to the dark chamber, Adrien spotted him immediately; a tall, thin figure standing by the immense window, silhouetted in the darkening early evening sky. However, the man looking out the glass was no longer Gabriel, but Hawkmoth.

Why did he transform? Adrien frowned in confusion.

The silence in the dark and cavernous room was deafening. The space had always seemed chillier than the rest of the mansion, despite the carefully temperature-controlled interiors. Hawkmoth’s form radiated hostility, and a trickle of ice slowly crept down Adrien’s spine.

“Father...?” Adrien slowly approached him, heart rate speeding up, hackles raised in sudden alarm, his gut screaming at him to run.

Hawkmoth’s head turned slightly towards him, thin lips curled into a sneer and he gave a small chuckle. The very air in the room felt oppressive, almost to the point of being suffocating.

“You worthless child,” Hawkmoth said with unveiled disgust. “I gave you the privilege of wielding the cat miraculous and it’s thanks to me that you have it to begin with. I could have taken it away permanently after I found it in your belongings years ago. I see now that letting you keep it was a mistake. You have more freedom and power than you deserve. But you forget that I’m the one with the power to destroy you.”

Hawkmoth turned around, arms resting behind his back, appearing almost unnaturally tall and imposing. He walked towards him.

“I will repeat what I said earlier. You are dismissed from your duties, Adrien. Hand over the ring, or I will take it from you,” he glowered menacingly.

Adrien took a fearful step back.

It was a trap. Hawkmoth had counted on his hotheaded and impulsive nature, and knew that he would follow him up here, where escape was most difficult.

Panic rose to his chest, but despite his heart pounding, he planted his feet and said, “P-Plagg, claws—”

Momentary blackness and a sharp pain interrupted him. His head swam and he realized he couldn’t breathe. His body twisted and squirmed, trying to escape the grip around his throat, clawing at Hawkmoth’s arms and gasping for air as he was slowly raised off the ground, upwards along the wall.

Hawkmoth yanked him away from the wall and slammed him again, disorienting him even further and weakening his grip. The edges of his vision started to blacken. He knew he didn’t have long before he passed out.

Adrien kicked wildly and scratched at Hawkmoth’s arms. He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let Hawkmoth succeed. He couldn’t. But as his body became more and more numb and his struggling slowly decreased, he was quickly losing hope. Unwelcomed tears pricked at his eyes as he looked into the eyes of the man who had raised him.

His father.

Despite all of his neglect and emotional abuse, Gabriel had never laid a finger on him.

But, Adrien now realized, this was not Gabriel. Not anymore. Only Hawkmoth remained. Gabriel was gone. His entire family had been torn away from him within the span of mere minutes.

Would anyone miss him if he was gone too?

A wave of emotion flitted across his face. Nathalie, Nino, Alya, Marinette. Ladybug. Would she miss him? Would she know what happened to him? Would the next time she encountered Chat Noir be through a different wielder? The thought of Gabriel being in possession of the power of destruction terrified him, and made him fear for Ladybug’s life. Adrien had sworn that he would protect her. If his father got ahold of his miraculous, she would be in more danger than he could have ever fathomed. He had to escape… he had to… he...

The veil of blackness grew and Adrien ceased his struggling altogether, having no strength remaining. But before his eyes rolled back, a black flash zoomed directly at Gabriel’s face, knocking him back in surprise.

Adrien crumpled to the ground, panting and coughing, while Plagg whizzed around Hawkmoth, the latter growling in outrage. Adrien looked up at them, clutching at his aching throat, his vision slowly returning to normal.

Hawkmoth finally succeeded in swatting Plagg away, and his tiny body was thrown towards the far wall.

Adrien attempted to call out to him, but only succeeded in releasing a strangled wheezing sound.

To his surprise, Plagg performed a graceful twist and landed on all fours. He pushed himself off the wall and puffed up his tiny chest.

“Is that all you’ve got, you pansy??” he taunted, accompanied with a rude gesture at Hawkmoth that suggested he perform an action of dubious anatomical probability to himself. Then he zipped back towards Hawkmoth, lashing his tail against the villain’s face with audible slaps, hissing and snarling like the cat he was.

Adrien couldn’t help but smirk. Seeing Plagg’s courage fueled his willpower and, despite his painful, labored breathing and a metallic taste in his mouth, he rose to his feet with a slight sway. He became woozy from the change in altitude, but nevertheless, a fiery determination blazed in his eyes.

With a renewed vigor, Adrien managed to croak out, “Plagg, claws out.” A bright flash of green illuminated the room.

Roaring ferociously, Hawkmoth unsheathed his sword and charged at Chat, who barely had enough time to block with his staff.

The two clashed in vicious combat, their strikes quick and merciless. Chat bounced around, dodging and parrying, taking full advantage of his catlike agility to avoid incoming attacks. Hawkmoth was relentless in his pursuit, always surging forward, never hesitating or taking a step back.

Hawkmoth’s masterful swordsmanship was unrelenting and intense. It had been years since they sparred and practiced together. The difference between his fighting style now, compared to how it was long ago, was stark. It was as if he were fighting a completely different person, one who focused solely on offense; one that aimed to kill, not incapacitate.

With a grunt, Hawkmoth swung his sword in a wide slash, and Chat was unable to block the full blow. A trickle of blood traveled down his arm, and Chat couldn’t help but stare at it.

He hurt him. Actually hurt him. It wasn’t a trick, an attempt to get the ring. A ploy he’d apologize for and claim ’Adrien, you made me do it’. His father was trying to actively injure him. The reality that this wasn’t some bad dream came crashing down on him, in the most physical sense. He looked up at disbelief at his father–or whoever he was at this point.

Chat continued to parry Hawkmoth’s brutal jabs and slashes, but occasionally one would penetrate his defenses. Before he knew it, he was riddled with cuts and scratches.

He panted heavily, lungs burning, heart pounding, and muscles aching. He looked up at his enemy, who wasn’t even breathing hard; not a single bead of sweat dotted his brow.

Chat made a desperate lunge at him, hoping to momentarily stun him so he could catch his breath. But in his exhaustion, he was careless, his movements sloppy.

The next thing he registered was simply pain. An excruciating, stabbing pain on his torso.

Chat let out a ragged scream, sagging against a wall and crumpling to the ground, clutching at the throbbing slash on his side. Breathing became excruciating.

And yet, he forced himself to his feet. He took a step. Then another. He reached for his staff and got back into a defensive stance.

Hawkmoth’s lips twitched upwards, amusement dancing in his eyes. Chat could have even sworn it almost looked like pride, but surely that was impossible.

Chat leaped towards him with a downwards strike of his staff, which was easily blocked, and they resumed their skirmish. Hawkmoth advanced on him, drawing out the combat comfortably, and yet Chat became more and more winded by the second. He looked around, searching in vain for any object that could be used to his advantage.

Rivulets of sweat traveled down his face and neck and it was then that his eyes widened in realization.

He’s toying with me. He just wants to tire me out.

Sensing his hesitation, Hawkmoth slashed at Chat’s leg with a long horizontal swipe. Chat howled in pain, collapsing onto the cold, hard tile once again.

Hawkmoth roughly lifted him by the right arm and yanked him towards the small table in the center of the room. He threw him down with a loud thunk and held him down by the wrist. Chat was too weak to wrest himself out of the ironclad grasp, not even able to put up the slightest hint of resistance.

Hawkmoth lifted his sword, readying himself to strike downwards. Chat looked up, eyes hazy and disoriented. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shake off the fog in his brain.

“Surrender, or lose your ring the hard way,” Hawkmoth hissed, his face half concealed in shadow.

Chat looked up at him in confusion. Why not just take the ring from his finger, since he clearly wasn’t in any condition to fight anymore?

“Father…” Chat croaked out. “Why are you doing this?”

The corner of Hawkmoth’s mouth quirked upwards into a cruel sneer. “I’m teaching you a lesson. After all, disobedient children must be disciplined.”

Chat’s eyes grew wide in terror. He’s really going to do it. Is… Is this how it ends for me? In my own home, broken, and alone?

On the verge of despairing, a soft, loving voice spoke from the corner of his mind:

“You’re not alone anymore, Chat.”

Ladybug’s kind words washed over him like a gentle, cooling breeze, easing his fear and filling his heart with hope. Whatever happened, Hawkmoth must never get ahold of the ring.

A small flicker of an idea crossed his mind.

Chat scoffed and remarked sarcastically, “You picked an odd time to finally decide to start parenting.” He looked up at him, raising his free hand. “But you’re not the only one who’s got a few tricks up their sleeve.”

Hawkmoth paused, eyeing him curiously.

Chat gave him a final smirk and said calmly, “Cataclysm.”

Hawkmoth’s face contorted in surprise, and he let out an infuriated shout as Chat’s left palm touched the floor.

Unbeknownst to him, Chat had gained the ability to summon Cataclysm through both hands, and not just through the one that wore the ring. Hawkmoth had been counting on him not being able to use his power without uselessly destroying the table his right (ring) hand was resting on.

Long, spidery veins stretched across the entire floor, slowly spreading their sickly, rusted blackness. Losing his balance as the ground crumbled beneath them, Hawkmoth let go of Chat’s wrist and leaped backwards, away from the epicenter of destruction.

Moments later, Hawkmoth rose from the rubble, pushing some debris off of himself in irritation. The dust had cleared somewhat, and the dim light of the sunset entering through the window illuminated the room once again.

Finally coming back to his senses, Hawkmoth’s head whipped back and forth, searching across the chasm. But it was too late. Chat was already gone.

Consumed with both disbelief and rage, he let out a loud scream; raw, savage, and haunting.

(Mood Music: Like I’m Going to Lose You - Meghan Trainor, Eric Chou cover)

Marinette leisurely stepped out the side door of the bakery humming a soft tune, carrying a large bag of trash. With a grunt, she hefted the bag into a waste bin along the edge of the sidewalk for morning pickup. She stretched out her tired limbs, reaching her hands over her head and admiring the soft hues of the darkening sky.

She yawned as she opened the door to go back inside, but stopped in her tracks. A sudden, insistent feeling pricked and prodded at her insides, urging her to turn around. Something didn’t feel right. Seconds ticked by; then a whole minute. It just didn’t make sense to feel so uneasy.

Sighing resignedly, she decided to follow her instincts even though nothing in the area seemed out of the ordinary.

And so Marinette sat on the steps, keeping her eyes peeled for anything odd and her ears open for anything unusual. Several minutes passed. But there was nothing. No akumas, no old ladies in distress, no cats stuck in trees.

Tikki phased through the door discreetly, having grown concerned about Marinette’s absence, as she’d only planned to be gone for less than a minute.

“Marinette? Is anything wrong?” Tikki whispered as she zipped behind Marinette’s neck, hidden by a long curtain of midnight hair.

Marinette shrugged, hugging her arms around herself as a rather ineffective shield from the crisp evening air. “I don’t know, Tikki. I just… I had a strong feeling that I needed to be out here.” She sighed softly. Maybe it wasn’t her instinct after all, but leftover jitters from her near death experience earlier that day.

“We could check, to make sure. Let’s take a small stroll around the block before going back inside, just in case,” Tikki suggested. Marinette nodded in agreement and stood, reluctant but compliant.

The walk around the neighborhood was… uneventful.

Marinette quirked her mouth to the side in consternation and murmured low so only Tikki could hear, “Well… no news is good news, right?”

Tikki made a small humming sound, not quite convinced. However, she knew that ever since Marinette had begun developing and strengthening more of her miraculous’ abilities over the years, that there were bound to be a few false alarms.

And so, Marinette began heading home. Tikki leaned her tiny head on her charge’s shoulder, no longer on alert but still keeping an eye out.

And then she saw him.

“MARINETTE!!” Tikki whisper-screamed, yanking on the hair by her left ear to get her to turn her head.

Marinette winced. “Ow! Tikki! Why did y-“ The words died in her throat. Her eyes widened like saucers and her breath escaped her as if she’d been punched in the gut.

A slim, black form was slumped against a wall inside a tiny, darkened nook between buildings. Marinette recognized it instantly.

She dashed towards him, heart pounding in terror and confusion. Her eyes darted around as she crossed the street to look for an assailant, but saw no one.

She fell to the ground next to him, quickly examining him. His breathing was labored, but he was alive. Barely. He was struggling to stay conscious, clearly exhausted, and his belt was tightly wrapped around his thigh to stop the bleeding from a large wound.

“Chat Noir!!? What happened?!” she cried, aghast and horrified by his condition.

Her voice jolted him out of his haze and his eyes popped open in alarm. He seemed to recognize her and his eyes softened, looking relieved and almost… trusting?

She tried again. “What happened?! Who did this to you?”

Chat froze, glancing around the area nervously, like he was searching for something.

“I… I… I gotta go,” he said in a rush, extending his staff to help him stand.

Marinette frowned in surprise. “Wait! What are you doing??”

“I can’t stay here,” he insisted, limping away from the wall and aiming to vault to the top of the building.

“What?! Why??” she demanded, rushing to stand in front of him.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t get you involved. Please, go home, it could be dangero- AUGH!” He bit down on a pained cry, clutching his injured torso. He panted heavily, face twisted in agony. Nevertheless, he continued with his objective as he tried to walk around Marinette.

She pulled him back before he could flee. “No! Stop! You’re in no condition to go anywhere! We need to get you some help!”

“Mar–Mademoiselle, please…” he said, his eyes pleading. “Forget we ever met. You might be in danger if you’re seen with me.”

Marinette stood her ground and firmly walked him back towards the wall, gripping the top of his staff with her other hand in defiance.

“NO,” she repeated emphatically.

Chat faltered, and exhaustion seemed to catch up to him all at once. His eyes became glazed and he swayed forward, head spinning. His legs buckled and he sagged against her with a pained groan. Marinette caught him and managed to ease him down to the ground, where she held him close, wrapping her arms around him to lend him her warmth.

The corner of his mouth pulled upwards. “Heh, you’re stubborn. I like that.”

Cheeky, her eyes squinted in slight amusement.

“I’m not the only one,” she countered, giving him a small smile.

He looked at her with a soft expression on his face, gently placing his hand on top of hers. “You’re also really sweet.” Marinette could feel her face heat up despite herself.

Before either could say anything more, his ring beeped.

Chat shifted in surprise, but his wounded side twitched in painful protest. He clutched it tightly with his other arm, hissing in distress. Marinette winced and drew him closer, trying to offer a small measure of comfort. She could feel his body trembling.

“C-could you do something for me?” Chat asked apprehensively, voice cracking.

Marinette blinked, somewhat stunned. “Of course,” she replied, voice barely above a whisper.

He bit his lip, eyes glistening. “Will you… will you please tell her that I’m sorry?” he croaked out, voice full of regret and sadness. “That I didn’t mean to leave her?”

Marinette’s stomach felt like it was being squeezed into a vice. Fear gripped her and she clutched him desperately. “Chat, NO! You’re going to be fine!! Stay with me!”

Chat squeezed her hand and murmured with difficulty, “I’m so sorry, Marinette. For everything.”

Then he slipped into unconsciousness.

[ducktracy]

26. freddy the freshman (1932)

release date: february 20th, 1932

series: merrie melodies

director: rudolf ising

starring: n/a

i love that title card! obviously the title cards will improve as the years go on instead of being black backgrounds with white text. here we have freddy the freshman, a very popular tune used by carl stalling in the underscore of some cartoons. i know porky’s garden and boobs in the woods use it, just to name a few. the titular freshman freddy becomes a big hit at the party he crashes, and eventually goes on to play in the big football game.

this is our eponymous freshman, freddy. isn’t he cool with his beanie and oversized glasses? i love that they designed him the way they did. i was expecting a jock letterman type, much like the dover boys, not this dinky little dog. i’m not sure if that was intentional, but good on them if it was.

freddy seems to be the talk of the town (and thinks rather highly of himself). he putters through the streets, surrounding by an audience who cheers him on. he sings “rah, rah, rah cha cha! that’s our college yell! baggy pants, crazy dance, it’s freddy, can’t you tell?” as always, the music is syncopated and catchy. we get some gags of freddy slapping his car (with the engine springing out of place at one point).

dance sequence time! this time, we’re at a party, where everyone is joyously dancing to an underscore version of “freddy the freshman”. once again, gifs do little justice, but i love the visuals above. very smooth and amusing! the underscore is lush and catchy as ever.

our hero arrives and crashes the party, literally. his car explodes into bits and pieces just outside the shack. he greets “hi-ho, everybody! hi-ho!” and instantly receives a shower of cheers.

we launch into our musical number of “freddy the freshman”. he saunters through the shack (much like foxy in lady, play your mandolin!) and at one point, his fur coat divides into a bunch of kittens, who sing the chorus of “freddy the freshman, the freshest kid around!” very clever, but also morbid!

no college party is complete without your letterman jock (ah, there’s what i was looking for in the beginning!) bully. freddy meets with his girl, who thinks he’s swell. the horse, not so much. freddy asks the crowd to give a college yell, prompting the horse to snarl “RASPBERRIES!”. enter this great gif above. freddy tackles him, and is greeted by applause! i love the tactility of rubber hose cartoons, how they melt and bend and squish. the animation may be in its baby steps, but it’s much more fun to watch than what we’ll be dealing with in the 60s cartoons (shudder).

finally, it’s time for the game. oh, by the way, there’s a football game! it was probably mentioned, and maybe i missed it (and the dialogue is a bit hard to distinguish), but it certainly seems random like hey, by the way! the football game is here!

nevertheless. an old cat fires the starting pistol, prompting a mouse to pop out and blow a whistle. the jock horse initiates the game by kicking the football directly towards the audience, something i imagine looked really good in theaters!

a pig player has his mouth open, and swallows the football whole (much like the hippo swallowing the cannonball in bosko the doughboy). freddy kicks him in the ass to regurgitate the football back out, resuming the game. as crude and overused as it is, the gag amuses me because of how unsettling it is to think about!

because it’s a cartoon, this isn’t your average football game. a wiener dog shields freddy from any offensive attacks as he runs to score the touchdown. however, because all football fields have them, the dog crashes into a tree in the middle of a field, wrapping itself and thusly unwrapping itself from the bark. another gag includes a giant dogpile—once the dogpile is over, a lone turtle stranded on its back slips out of its shell and puts it on haughtily.

i love how absurd this is. we now cut to a lake in the middle of the football field, where freddy chases a duck who caught the football via raft. absurdity and surrealism, the best way to go for comedy! they both reach land, and freddy tackles the duck’s legs (which are extremely tall). the duck makes it over the end zone line anyhow and quacks in his face.

now we cut to the cheerleading section, which is plagued by stereotypes. three jewish crows hold hebrew pennants and dance, cheering on the team. but that’s not all! an effeminate rooster saunters over and joins the cheering section with a stereotypical feminine voice and mannerisms. obviously, this didn’t age well. it’s obviously offensive and cringeworthy, and even if you could somehow get past that, it’s still not very funny to begin with.

nevertheless, the game ravages on. a lion has possession of the ball while the crowd chants “hold that lion! hold that lion!” freddy LITERALLY holds the lion, pulling on his tail in an attempt to slow him down. instead, he tumbles backwards as he pulls off his “pants”.

cut to an announcer, who’s excitedly narrating the game. in the midst of his fervor he stops and whispers “are ya listening’? hmmm?” our first (or one of them) celebrity reference! this is a reference to radio personality anthony “tony” wons, who would often give that exact catchphrase. i love the celebrity references in all of the 30s-40s looney tunes shorts! some people don’t because of how dated they are, which is true. i had no idea who tony wons was until just now. but i always find them so fascinating, because if i don’t get the joke, it’s still FUNNY and carries on (which isn’t the case today. i feel like if you miss the joke, you miss it completely nowadays). finding out what the references mean and digging around for some background information is always very exciting to me (and explains why i listen to bing crosby and frank sinatra on a regular basis, thanks carl stalling for your beautiful underscores!).

enough blabbering on. freddy manages to catch the ball, and it’s up to him to score the touchdown. to keep his skull getting bashed in (just look at those protective leather helmets!), he fashions a fence into a protective hamster wheel and barrels down the field, his foes bouncing off like flies. there just so happens to be a clothesline present in the middle of the field, and with some bizarrely fun visuals, freddy hops into a pair of underwear (a gag pitched by clampett, maybe? everytime there’s something “crude” i think of him) and uses a stick to row himself down the field. one of the players squeezes him, and he pops out and slides into a pair of pajamas hanging on the field, sagging down and running on the grass. he opens the buttflap and throws the football down, scoring the points. iris out.

this is certainly an... interesting cartoon. it doesn’t have much plot to it (though it is a merrie melody where the focus is on song), so to me it comes off as “here’s a party! and here’s the football game!” the song “freddy the freshman” makes for a VERY catchy underscore (as carl stalling would assert by using it in a number of cartoons), and there were some fun visuals like the horse untangling his legs while dancing, and the entire end scene with freddy scoring the touchdown. the biggest complaint i have is the scene with the jewish crows and the gay rooster—it’s very stereotypical and breaks up the flow of the plot completely. thankfully, the whole cartoon isn’t ruined by it. it’s only a 10 second thing, but it still needs to be addressed.

overall, this cartoon was pretty barebones, there have certainly been better merrie melodies. but the visuals are fun and the gags are absurd (i love that there’s an entire lake in the middle of the field), so i’d give it a leisurely watch.

[braveskyered]

Knights (Part 2)

Part 1

Part 2: This Time I Might Just Disappear

Three Years Ago...

...

Here he is, riding a bus away from Tempo, Texas to... somewhere in the East. Arthur didn't bother planning that far ahead. All he has is a backpack full of various items and savings beside him, and a small travel cage containing Galahad in his lap.

He isn't exactly running away, he thinks. He already told Lance that he just needed some time alone and left, saying that he would call once he arrived at his destination. His uncle did try to stop him at first, but relented when Arthur tearfully begged him to just let him be alone for a while. He just needed some time to himself. Lance was still skeptical, but gave Arthur a hug, something he isn't known to do very often, telling him to rest and call him if he ever needed to.

Arthur couldn't bring himself to.

When he arrived at his so-called destination, after switching from one bus to another for the next two days, Arthur eventually arrived at a relatively large city called Cantabile in the state of Tennessee. A modest location, since the place had signs that boasted about the place being known for their musicians, chefs, and doctors. The weather is rather cool and overcast, so it didn't look too bad a place to stop. In reality, Arthur considered this place his destination after he got sick of riding on the bus for so long. That, and he needed to get some fresh shavings for Galahad's cage and food for the two of them.

Fortunately, the downtown area has little kiosks where tourists can get their hands on a free map, so finding a pet store that happened to be nearby is pretty convenient. He found the food, and then the shavings he needed for Galahad, and quickly changed them out with the help of a kind employee. With that done, he started to look around for a cheap motel he could stay at for the time being since the sun will start to set soon. He didn't dare check his phone for a suitable place, since he removed the sim card to prevent anyone from trying to track his location. Granted, he could still use it minus being able to call or send texts, but unless he has an internet connection, he wouldn't be able to use some of the more important apps. As far as Arthur is concerned, he's as homeless one could get unless he went back to Tempo, but he didn't want to return home. Not yet.

...Would be be able to start anew here or somewhere else outside Tempo? The Mystery Skulls clearly didn't want him anymore, and after the falling out with Lewis and Vivi, Arthur couldn't feel bothered to even try to mend things since everything was his fault it happened. Part of him felt bad about leaving Lance behind, but if he hadn't left Tempo, then Arthur might not be able to live with himself. Too many bad memories and guilt among other things that he just needed to get away from for a while.

He kept walking, his backpack secure with Galahad's cage in his arms. He kept his arms covered up with a thick orange jacket and black gloves to keep prying eyes from staring at the prosthetic that made up his left arm, and the injuries that covered his right arm, chest, and back. He looked around every now and then to keep a watch out for potential muggers with a cold sweat. If his backpack gets lost, then it'll be all over for him. Some thunder rang out in the air, and Arthur looked up to see that the clouds from earlier had turned darker and some rain is beginning to form. Cursing to himself, Arthur started to move a little faster, careful not to shake Galahad too much, and looked around in hopes of finding some form of shelter. Arthur then heard the sound of metal clanking together and drills being used, looking to his left, he blinked.

“Four of a Kind Queens Auto Repair and Parts,” Arthur quietly read. Rather interesting name for a repair shop. The place itself looked fairly well off, and with four garages full of cars that are currently being maintained, and a fifth one with its door closed. Must be a well known business if it's this busy for them. The rain started to get heavier, startling Arthur enough to run over to the shop's entrance and went inside, hearing a little bell chime. It wouldn't do either of them good if Galahad's cage got wet.

The place itself looked cozy for a mechanic's standards. The heat is on, which gave Arthur some much needed warmth. It even smelled like a typical mechanic's workplace, which did provide even more much needed comfort, even though he wouldn't be able to tinker with anything until he found a workplace himself.

“Hello, there! Welcome to Four of a Kind Queens!”

Arthur looked up and saw a somewhat elderly woman with snowy white hair tied into a braid, a stout yet fit figure while wearing an apron stained with oil looking at him from the reception desk.

“What brings you here today?” she asked, “An oil change? A problem with your car?”

“Ah, no...” he let out a breath he didn't know he had, “I just needed to get away from the rain.”

The old woman didn't respond at first, looking over him and his hamster with slightly narrowed eyes, a brow raised in thought. For a moment, Arthur thought she was going to ask him to leave until she straightened up to look at the window, “Ah. Yeah, the weather's been getting rather dreadful these past few days. A shame, really. That little sunshine we had earlier today was good while it lasted,” the old woman sighed, acting as if her studying him never happened, “Well, feel free to hang out until it lets up. There's a vending machine over there if you want snacks, and a water fountain if you need a drink.”

Arthur thanked the woman before settling down on one of the many chairs that were lined up against a wall with a long window showing the store's exterior. Placing his backpack beneath the chair he's sitting on for added security, he placed Galahad's cage down on the floor by his feet. He opened the cage door and scooped up the hamster with his left hand, then held him against his chest, giving him the affection Galahad missed out on. Galahad is thrilled, and quickly snuggled into the warmth. Arthur looked out the window and saw the rain pour down heavily as cars drove by.

Was it really a good idea to leave? Arthur isn't really sure, the only thing he had in his mind is that he just had to leave. Stay away from Vivi. Stay away from Lewis. Stay away from Mystery. Stay away from Tempo. It wasn't as if he had a destination in mind.

Maybe he really is running away, but in the end, it's what they wanted.

“Wait, what?” she turned.

He didn't remember exactly how the conversation played out, but eventually it exploded into a one-sided argument.

“If you're not happy here, then just leave!” he bellowed.

Better not think about it, then. Vivi and Lewis are better off without him.

Rubbing a finger against the sleeping Galahad's head, Arthur listened to the sounds of metal clinking, parts being added and removed, the saws buzzing... the shop is pretty busy. He wondered if anyone here could use a hand before scoffing to himself. Yeah, right, like they'd let a complete stranger like me tinker around their shop. He rolled his eyes in annoyance at the mere thought. He has to think things through, since sooner or later, he'll have to find a motel to stay in. Maybe that old lady from earlier could suggest one?

He closed his eyes to think.

…

Purple flames. The anger. The despair. The HATE!

Fuck, it's you I hate the most!

…!

Arthur jumped awake with a cold sweat, thankful that he learned how to wake up without screaming long ago. When did he fall asleep? How long was he...? He looked down to check on Galahad, and saw that someone had put a blanket over him. Checking the cage, he saw that someone had also put Galahad back inside, the hamster happily munching on a piece of celery. He then looked at his backpack behind his feet under the chair and saw that it was left untouched. He rubbed his head to get rid of the brief drowsiness, then went to check on Galahad.

Unfortunately, the hamster has other plans. As soon as Arthur opened the cage door, Galahad dashed out and ran across the floor to the direction that leads to the garage holding the cars.

“Galaham, no!” Arthur got up to chase the hamster, “You can't go in there!” The hamster ignored him and went in, and while Arthur wouldn't have tried entering an employees only area, which is oddly quiet, he had to get the hamster out. Keeping an eye out for any potential hazards, Arthur went in to look for Galahad, and spotted the rodent running beneath a large blue van, the first among a line of cars side by side, where a mechanic was doing some work under it. Arthur watched with dread as the mechanic beneath the car yelped, their legs jumping in surprise. He heard the clatter of a tool being put down, and the person wheeled out from underneath, holding the hamster in their hand, revealing the mechanic to be a young woman.

“You little rascal,” she shook her head in annoyed amusement as she poked at the hamster's cheeks with her fingers, “What, that celery wasn't enough for you?”

“I-I'm so sorry!” the apologies started pouring out as Arthur came forward, catching the mechanic's attention, “I was trying to check on him and he ran off! I didn't mean to come in here, I just--!"

“Oh, you're the guy that was out in the waiting area,” the mechanic cut him off with a look of realization, holding out Galahad for him to take, “How are you feeling? I would've woken you after the rain stopped about half an hour ago, but Nana Niniane insisted that we let you sleep a little longer. She said you looked like you needed it.”

Arthur is thrown off by that. They just let a complete stranger sleep in their shop? What?

“Sir? Are you all right?”

He jumped, thoughts scrambling in his mind as he took Galahad back with a mumbled thanks. Thinking quick, he asked her, “H-how long was I asleep?”

“Eh...” she took out her smartphone from her breast pocket and looked at the screen, “I'd say maybe an hour and a half? Did you need to be somewhere?”

“N-No...”

Arthur trailed off, not sure at where to proceed with the conversation, instead taking the time to actually take note of the woman's appearance. She looked a head shorter than him, somewhat thin with black coveralls with a white trim on, and has long black hair with one lone white streak tied to a single braid that reached her hips. The only thing that stood out from her face, which has some oil stains, is her pale blue eyes which, along with her pale skin, contrasted sharply from her hair. In other words, really pretty for a mechanic. He shook the thought from his head and looked at the van, knowing that he didn't have the right to be admiring one's appearance.

“W-what kind of maintenance are you doing with this?”

“Oh, this?” she tapped at the vehicle she was working on, “One of our regulars was thinking of buying this used car for his son, who's pretty tall. He wanted us to check to make sure everything's in good working order before making the final purchase from the dealership selling this. So far the frame looks good, though there's a minor repair needed for the flex pipe, but we've got everything needed to do that. I plan on leaving the engine, which does smell a little burnt, to my aunt Morgan, since she's better at that than me.”

“I can look if you want,” Arthur said before he could stop himself, “I-I grew up working at a repair shop, so I worked with cars a lot?”

“Really? Hmm...” she pondered for a moment, glancing between him and the van, mumbling something to herself. Nodding, she turned to him, “Well, it wouldn't hurt to have a second opinion since everyone else is out for their dinner break beside Mama Vivienne - you've met her - and myself. I'll let you have a look at it and I'll take responsibility. All I ask is that you can't take anything too far apart. You mind if I watch?”

“Yeah, just let me grab my backpack since all my tools are in there.”

In less than a minute, Arthur went and placed Galahad back in his cage, grabbed his backpack, and took it and the cage back to where the mechanic is. Setting Galahad's cage aside to a safe location next to a toolbox, Arthur took out some tools from his bag and went straight to work.

“Oh, yeah, now that I think about it, we never introduced each other, did we?”

Blinking, Arthur looked at her, feeling stupid that he didn't think of the same thing, “Um, no.”

“My bad,” she smiled and held out a hand, “I'm Elaine. Elaine Knights. What's your name?”

“...Arthur Kingsmen,” he made sure to take her hand with his right, “And that's my hamster, Galahad.”

“Oh, that's a wonderful name,” the mechanic, Elaine, smiled, her eyes showing admiration, “It's like a hero's. It suits you.”

Arthur couldn't respond to that with his voice, so he went back to checking on the engine, slightly embarrassed. She thinks his name suits him? Far from it, he believes. A hero doesn't run away with cowardice, do they?

Notes: Cantabile, Tennessee is based off of Nashville, Tennessee, which is also known as Music City in the United States, or at least it is to some. Cantabile is a type of instrumental music style meant to imitate the human voice, hence “singable” or “song-like.” Don't expect Cantabile to be like Nashville, though, it just served as the inspiration for Cantabile's name and to contrast with the city name Tempo, Texas, which is the main setting for Mystery Skulls Animated.

Knights Part 3