#so please forgive me for this unedited piece of...... a voice recording

[jeanmoreaux]

the questions of this accent challenge:

What’s your name & username?

Where are you from?

What’s the time where you are?

Pronounce the following words: Meme, Pepe, Doge, Sudoku, Espresso, Celtic, Açaí, Dr. Seuss.

What’s your favourite pizza place? Favourite pizza topping?

What’s your favourite dessert?

What’s your favourite food? What food do you hate?

What’s your favourite TV show? Which show were you into, but then got out of?

What brand is your phone?

Do you speak a second language?

How do you define a group of people when you’re talking to them? Do you say ‘guys,’ or ‘dudes’ or?

What Harry Potter house do you most identify with? If sorted by Pottermore, did you agree with the one you got?

Is there something you should be doing right now but are procrastinating?

Now that you’ve talked about what you need to be doing, go do it!

[corysmiles]

I freaking love the Little Streamer Au, and I have 2 ideas that won’t leave my head.

1. Tommy hanging out with 2 of his friends and them getting into an argument, a bad one. Tommy gets scared but neither of them seem to notice until too late.

2. Tommy going over to a friends house for a few days. The house doesn’t have any Tiny modifications so it’s really difficult for him to get around, but he doesn’t want to admit it to the friend (either because of shame or wanting to spare their feelings or whatever)

Anyway, sorry for wasting your time just wanted to share my ideas -💜

It’s not a waste of time I love hearing other people’s ideas!! And these are both very very fun so have two little drabbles, my friend :] 💙💙💙💙

(I’m so sorry these are unedited I’m tired but I really wanted to write for these)

cw//language, alcohol mentions (just for the first drabble)

——————————

Tommy wasn’t even sure what they were fighting about anymore. Wilbur and Jack were both drunk, definitely, and the yelling that started as playful bickering had quickly become an aggressive shouting match. The two yelled back and forth over the table Tommy sat on, shaking the whole thing every time they moved.

Tommy logically knew they weren’t mad at him and that even if they were, they would never hurt him...but every time a hand slammed down or their voices raised too high he felt himself shrink away. His whole body was shaking and he wondered if they’d even notice if he curled up.

He just couldn’t watch it anymore. When Wilbur’s hand slammed down just a couple inches away from where he sat Tommy shouted and fell back. Hot tears pricked at his eyes while he pulled his head into his legs.

Maybe if he could just fall asleep it would be over when he woke up.

Surprisingly he was only met by silence. The fight seemed to be abandoned, although Tommy didn’t know why.

“Tommy, Toms? Fuck are you alright?” Wilbur’s voice cooed.

Tommy backed away, his mind replaying Wilbur’s hand coming down over and over again.

He felt as a hand pressed up against his back, “Fuck Tommy we’re sorry dude.”

Jack gently pressed his finger to the center of Tommy’s back to ground him while Wilbur whispered to him. It took a few minutes but finally Tommy was able to breath again.

His eyes opened to meet Wilbur’s, extremely close and full of concern.

“We got a little bit out of hand yeah?” Wilbur laughed nervously.

Tommy frowned and nodded at his older brother. A sad smile barely reached Wilbur’s lips.

Slowly, Wilbur reached his hand out and let Tommy crawl in. Jack’s fingertip only left his back once he was settled in his brother’s palm.

“I’m sorry Toms,” Wilbur whispered.

Tommy laughed softly and jokingly punched Wilbur’s thumb.

“It’s okay, I forgive you dickheads.”

——————————

Tommy didn’t think it would be that bad getting around George’s apartment. They were staying there for a couple days so that Tommy could record for his vlog channel which would have been great...Except for the fact that George’s apartment was impossible for him to get around in.

Everything was so spread out; no matter how hard he tried it was impossible for him to get from place to place. That gave him the options of waiting for Wilbur to help him...or walking on the floor which was never a good idea. He knew he could tell George, but he knew he was already lucky to be able to stay there at all.

He didn’t really want to push his luck.

So he sat on George’s desk, waiting for Wilbur to get back to the apartment to help him. He was starving and he really needed to get clean for the day, but he couldn’t even get down from the desk. It was too high up and the legs were too thin for him to climb down. (He knew because the first night when he tried he almost broke something by falling to the floor)

It wasn’t until George walked back in that he felt any spurt of hope.

“Uh aren’t you going to get ready? We’re going out soon,” George asked slowly.

“Uh yeah...big man.”

George frowned at the tiny’s words and knelt down next to the desk, “Uhhh, are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah why wouldn’t I be,” Tommy quipped back.

George pulled away for a moment with his face scrunched up in thought. After a few seconds his face lit up.

“You can’t get down, can you?”

Immediately Tommy sputtered, trying to come up with a response before settling with a weak nod. He hated feeling helpless, but it was better than just sitting around.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me!” George frowned, “You’ve been here for two days, I would’ve helped you.”

“Wilbur’s been helping...” Tommy mumbled as George’s hand reached down to pick him up.

He carefully crawled onto George’s palm and felt himself get pulled up off of the desk.

“I’m youre friend too though...I can help you Tommy,” George sighed, “Even if you are fucking annoying.”

Tommy scoffed and flipped off George with a wide grin. The human’s fingers squeezed a bit tighter in revenge for just a second.

When Tommy was finally placed back down on the kitchen counter he let himself relax. He smiled as George brought him a small piece of bread and ham to eat.

“Thanks George.”

“Of course, please tell me if you need help again okay?”

Tommy’s eyes met George’s and he found that no humor laced through his expression. The usually joking man, seemed almost...upset.

“I will, I will. Thank you,” Tommy said earnestly.

“Of course Tommy.”

Taglist: @encaos @blurrybunnie @brooky71 @forgetful-dorito

[elven-oracle]

new rules |p.p.|

Pairing: Peter Parker x FemaleReader

Word Count: 2.3K

Trigger Warnings: detailed depiction of physical abuse and panic attacks. 

Type: Angst

A/N: This is for @tomsfireheart and @spideymood‘s writing challenge! PLEASE be mindful of the trigger warning! This is also unedited, so I’m sorry in advance. 

Sometimes, all you could muster was a blank stare onto an unstable wall. The opposite side of Peter's bedroom had cracks in it that webbed upwards into the corner where the wall hit the ceiling. Your eyes followed these cracks, going back to the bottom once you hit said corner. At midnight on a Saturday evening you could hear Peter and some sort of parental figure arguing. You didn't think that she was his mom, based on the way that he casually referred to her by her first name, but she was definitely family. Their aggressive, harsh whispers made it difficult to concentrate. You couldn't make out what they were saying, but it wasn't what they were saying, it was how they were saying it.

There was a 'thud' as someone sat down in front of you. Your knees were hugged to your chest, but he gently took your clasped hands in his. It was a slow movement, he had picked up on how sudden movements tended to freak you out. His soft hands wrapped around yours was quick notification that you were shaking violently; your fingers were rapidly knocking against his. Opening your eyes slightly, you got a glimpse of the boy's face through the slivers of your lids. Instinctively, you jammed them shut again.

"Y/N..." he cooed, his voice cautiously quiet. It was as if raising the volume would break glass. "Y/N can you tell me what's going on?"

From what you had gathered, Peter Parker didn't usually go to parties. This was only the second you had seen him attend, the first being months ago when Liz Allan still went to school with you. Seeing his wide-eyed gaze sweep across the room was what got you into trouble in the first place. Chris had caught you looking, and if you had just looked away a millisecond earlier, you wouldn't have to go through the usual motions of what happened when you pissed off your boyfriend. You would have been able to forgo the fear, anxiety and most of all: the pain.

However, what had kept you staring was Peter catching your eyes and smiling at you. It was a small moment of kindness that had taken you by surprise. You hadn't experienced anything of that nature in a long time. So long, in fact, that it was significant to you in the midst of a loud, rambunctious party.

The sudden grip on your arm made your blood turn to ice. The yank was snap back into your dark reality. It was a reminder of what was coming next. Chris murmured phrases of anger under his alcohol infused breath and shoved you into someone's empty bedroom, locking the door behind him. There was nothing that Chris didn't forget.

His fits of anger were always terrifying, but they were worse when he was drunk. You fell backwards onto the bed as he loomed over you, eyes riddled with his usual, intoxicated rage.

"That boy, do you know him? Do you see him often?" with every word, Chris's voice increased by a decibel.

"Chris, please, I-"

"Don't you dare argue with me," he barked, and you flinched. His voice was deafening, but not louder than the music playing. Usually he wouldn't be so reckless, but he knew that there was no risk of yelling, and that meant there was no limit to what he was capable of. The miscellaneous party noise would disguise whatever trauma you had to endure.

"His name is Peter, we have history together but-"

"But? BUT WHAT," he raised his right hand, and you mentally braced yourself for the impact, knowing that physically bracing yourself would do more harm than good.

But the impact didn't come.

"Hey man, are you 18? Because then this is definitely illegal," someone said from behind your boyfriend's large, broad body.

The voice sounded familiar, but when you sat up and looked, there wasn't a face to recognize. Instead, Spider Man was holding Chris's wrist.

"Who the fuck are you?" Chris was trying to free his hand of Spider Man's grip, but it was to no avail. It was almost a relief to see someone so easily overpowering him, especially someone that was four inches shorter. You hadn't even noticed how short the hero was until you saw him in person.

With an airy sounding 'THWIP,' Chris's head was jerked backwards, and his hands pinned to the wall behind him by a patch of white, threadlike material you assumed had to be a webbing configuration of some sort. You stared, halfway between shock and disbelief.

"Miss, I believe this is your exit," Spider Man pointed to the door. The handle was practically falling off and the lock was blatantly broken.

Hands tingling, you left, the roar of the party once again overcoming you. You stumbled towards the front door of the house, almost crashing into it. Instead you fell into the railing on the front porch, flailing the upper half of your body over the side. Nausea was creeping up the back of your throat, and the only thing keeping you upright was the crisp, almost summery air.

You had been a victim of Chris's rage for months now, but no one had ever noticed. Day by day you silently suffered, too afraid to speak up. He had etched into your brain the idea that no one would believe you, no one wanted to help you, and that he only did this because he loved you. He wanted what was best for you. Now that someone had saved you, and verbally spoke the illegality of the situation, you were unsure of how to proceed.

"Hey hey hey miss, are you okay?" for a moment, you thought that it was Spider Man returning to help, but you knew it had to be a trick of your foggy mind. You turned and saw Peter Parker, the one who had set off the chain of grotesque events. Unfortunately, words could not form at your lips. The fog in your mind was thickening, and rapid breaths were the only sounds you could create. Peter continued to talk to you, but what he was saying was a mystery. Through the cracks of your panic, Peter spoke frantically on the phone to someone named May.

Peter shuffled you down a set of stairs and sat you down in a car. You shut your eyes to escape as much as possible, not caring where you were or who you were with. Even if you were unsafe, there was no way of you knowing through the murkiness of flashbacks drowning you. On the backs of your eyelids you saw Chris, arm raised. Chris, hand gripped painfully tight around your bicep, nails dug in. Chris shoving, Chris screaming, Chris calling you names.

You opened your eyes and freed yourself, the fog starting to dissipate. Peter was sitting next to you, and the concerned look on his face made it clear that you were safe.

"Y/N? You all right honey? My name is May Parker and I'm taking you to our house until you are okay," the woman driving, May, had a soft, motherly voice. "Are you with us?"


"Uh huh..." you said mindlessly. Each street light passed by in a psychedelic whir. It appeared that you were headed in the direction of downtown.

His room was dark, and you were grateful for that. Even the light of the moon coming through his blinds was too bright. He adjusted his grip on your hands, interlocking his fingers. He called your name a few more times, but what you wanted to say was difficult. It was the only thing you had on your mind, repeating itself over and over again like a delusional mantra you were forced to meditate on. You knew you had to say it, despite knowing that it was going to make you sound literally crazy.

"Rule number one is that you gotta have fun!" you exclaimed, the words barreled out of your mouth like they were chasing after one another.

Peter's expression switched from concern to confusion, "Is...is that a Marina and the Diamonds song?"

"It was our song. It makes no sense but it was what we listened to..."

Chris screaming, Chris shoving, Chris yanking your hair, Chris-

"Rule number two-" you started.

"Don't get attached to someone you could lose," Peter finished for you quickly, brushing a tear off your face. You hadn't even noticed that one had escaped. You instinctively winced, not used to the gentleness of his touch.

"Sorry! Sorry!" he didn't waste any time apologizing.

There was a brief moment of silence, the only sounds being the wind and the cars on the streets below. How to Be A Heartbreaker replayed in your head like a broken record.

"Y/N, forgive me if I'm wrong. And I might be totally wrong. Completely wrong, actually, but I think you need new rules."

Your eyes peaked open, his idea sparking a light in your brain.

"I-I mean the song is called How to Be a Heartbreaker and not how to maintain a stable relationship." he continued.

"New rules..." you repeated.

"Yeah..." he searched for your eyes, which he found. "So what would rule number one be?"

Your mind was a blank piece of paper, until it was scribbled on by your phone buzzing a familiar, gut wrenching ring tone. Your hands scrambled to your left jean pocket, an awful wave of anxiety starting in your heart and ending at the the tips of your fingers. Both you and Peter saw the caller ID simultaneously. He cradled your hands holding the phone, returning his eyes to yours.

"Don't pick up, Y/N."

"One..." you said shakily, giving your still-buzzing phone to Peter, "don't pick up the phone."

"Good. Good thinking. What would number two be?"

Someone knocked Peter's door, and you jumped, almost hitting your head on the handle to his dresser. A quick inhale followed the reminder that it was probably the same woman who was driving the car.


"Don't let him in," you whispered.

"Hey, don't worry, that's just my Aunt May, not-"

"No, I know. Two, don't let him in."

Peter's head shifted away from the door, a small grin forming, "What, May?"

"Peter are you sure-"


"Aunt May just one second please!"

Your heart rate started to lower, and your surroundings became clear. Peter had no idea, but he was helping you take control of the situation. He and Spider Man had helped you escape a way of life that you had thought you would endure for the rest of your life. No matter how hard you had tried, there was no way out. Leaving Chris was something you had thought about on a daily basis, but he had meticulously caged you into an emotional trap, and convinced you that you would be nothing without him. Now, here you were, being something for yourself.

"Three..." you initiated it this time.

"Don't be his friend. Please, Y/N, promise me you won't be his friend," Peter jumped in immediately, as if he had been holding that on the tip of his tongue. The idea of asking the cliche, 'do you want us to be friends' question had been loosely floating around in your head for barely a second. You clenched your teeth silently, enduring a new inner conflict.

"New rules, Y/N. Promise me."

Letting out a long exhale, you nodded, "Okay."

He stood, offering a hand for you to take. He pulled you to your feet, and for whatever reason you found him unexpectedly strong. He handed you your phone back and gave you half of a smile. As you walked towards the door, he rambled on about some Tony Stark internship that could assist him in keeping an eye on Chris, and that he would never hurt you so long as he worked for Mr. Stark. The thought was nice, but you silently hoped Peter wouldn't have to over extend himself to protect you.

May stopped you both as you wandered into the living room, "Y/N, you are more than welcome to stay here if you need to, Peter can take the couch and-"

"That's really okay, I can call my mom. I think she'll be awake..." It was almost one in the morning, and you had told your mom you would be sleeping at a friend's house. That friend's house was actually Chris's.

"No sweetheart, just stay here and I will take you home in the morning," May insisted, shooing Peter away to go do something. "I'm sure your mom will understand, just make sure you let her know you are safe. I'll make you some tea, the bathroom is down that hallway and you know where Peter's bed is."

She smiled at you with the warmest smile you had ever received.

As you laid in bed that night, you thought long and hard about the level of care you had received that night. There was a reason why you had convinced yourself what you had with Chris was love, and it would take a while to fully convince yourself otherwise. Tonight had been living proof that love did not involve pain, and hopefully moving forward you would remember that.


For now, you repeated your brand new rules, whispering them into your hand as if you were engraving them on your heart.

One, don't pick up the phone, you know he's only calling 'cause he's drunk and alone.

Two, don't let him in, you'll have to kick him out again.

Three, don't be his friend, you're only gonna wake up in his bed in the morning. If you're under him you ain't getting over him

I got new rules.

I count them.

TAGGING MY WONDERFUL MUTUALS

@hecktonystark

@dtftomholland

@starksmile

@nasa-parker

@peachesandparker

@lovelyh0lland

@beautiful-holland

@plushparker

@vintageholland

@hazhasmycoffee

@tomhollandthirst

@spxcxrrxid

@blushypeter