#that the police were trying to sweep under the rug | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ficthots · 1 year ago

Text

Tracking

A/N: Wow, just yeah. I know it's been a long while since I posted for Peter, but like I promised, I was working on things for him and here it is! Now, I'll crawl back into my cave until my next writing is ready. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Word Count: 6.4K+

Time is a fucking thief. Really, it is. Waking up with the rising of the sun, getting ready to go to a job you despised, remaining in a windowless cubicle for eight hours, making dinner, then time to sleep again. Watching the clock as each passing minute was taken from you over and over again. Now when you throw being a superhero into the mix, it makes it even worse.

Holding down relationships, careers, any and all of the important things in life were always seemingly snatched away when it came to the personal life of crime fighting vigilante Spider-Man. That’s why when you entered his life it was like getting another opportunity to engage with time he had never experienced before.

Looking forward to coming home and eating dinner, stopping by on patrol nights to give you a goodnight kiss no matter what, to Peter Parker, he would do everything in his power to devote as much time as he possibly could to you.

Perhaps you were the time thief in his life now. Either way he didn’t mind when it came to you.

Were there times when it just simply wasn’t possible to shovel all of his waking energy towards you? Of course! The problems came when it had been that way for months. Yeah, you read that right.

In the span of four months, Peter had become so ravaged with his other entities responsibilities that his time with you was drastically rescinded. Unanswered text messages for days, not a peep from him for a week at a time, no more windowsill kisses. It was like he had vanished into thin air.

You understood at first. Hell, you had been dating the man for three years! What was happening, though, was unlike anything he had ever dealt with before. A group of men, identities undisclosed, were wreaking havoc throughout New York City. For months on end, like clockwork, every other week a crime would occur.

Each more gruesome than the last.

Peter had never really been on a deadline like this. Knowing that with each ticking second it was growing closer to the next attack. Spending all nights on the streets, trying to spot whoever could be responsible for this.

The worst part was that he had no leads. A few locations that were all pointless distractions. No semblance of an inkling as to who was committing all of these atrocities. In the span of time since their starting, over eight lives had been taken. A mind boggling number for such a short span of time.

Police were just as useless and he had decided to not take up any more time than necessary with them in tow simply because they weren’t taking this as seriously as they should have been. Instead of confronting the public, reminding them to be careful and not to wander alone past sunset, they were sweeping it under the rug.

Not wanting to cause a public disturbance. No need to fear monger they had told Spider-Man. Assuring him that all of those victims were tied to a gang in one way or another and it was criminal activity work. Something that he shouldn’t spend too much time dwelling on.

That was not a good enough answer for Peter. He didn’t believe them. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure it was a group behind all of this. It could have been a serial killer that was on one hell of a spree.

There was no pattern with their victims either. Randomly selected from the streets. What you didn’t understand was why Peter was involved with all of this. Of course, you knew he wanted to do all in his power to save as many lives as he could, but you warned him to be careful after the initial police warning.

Sticking his nose in places it didn’t belong was not going to end well. It had been the first time you two had argued to that extent. Shouting at the top of your lungs you weren’t ready to lose him and that’s what you were afraid was in the works.

He called you silly for thinking such things. That you needed to have more faith in him than you were giving. It still didn’t answer why he was so invested in this. You knew there were details he was purposely not giving you. Maybe he didn’t want to frighten you or maybe he thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it, but to you, you were a partnership, a pair.

All you wanted was to have Peter back around. Who knows, you might be able to actually help him if he came to you and showed you what he did and did not have. Instead, he hid it from you. Becoming cold and aloof. Distant and consumed.

If there was something you knew about Peter it was that he did not like being bested. Truly holding himself to a standard that was near impossible. Knowing he was above average intelligence, to put it lightly, when people tried outsmarting him, it was always a humorous effort. No one bested Spider-Man.

This time, they were.

Following that night of your monstrous bickering, you hadn’t seen or heard from Peter in over a week. Honestly, you weren’t making much of an effort yourself. Having no interest in being around him when he was in a head space like this. Knowing that there really was no way to help him if he presented nothing to you.

Peter on the other hand was not okay with you going dark on him. Despite knowing that the clock was dwindling down before their next attack, it was the first time in weeks you had been at the forefront of his mind. The little voice in the back of his head was telling him he needed to smooth this over with you or he would regret it.

Which is why he was climbing into your living room window with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, opting to take the night off even though it could be a crucial turning point. He ended up convincing himself it would be alright because if he didn’t have a direction to go in an hour before arriving at your apartment, then hunting tonight was pointless.

He didn’t have a direction.

Even though you hadn’t spoken to Peter, your thoughts were consumed by him as well. What was the bit of information he wasn’t giving you? Was there even anything he was leaving out? There could be the slim possibility he had actually divulged all he knew to you. But you knew better than that. Peter was hiding something, you just couldn’t figure out what it was.

The notes.

Discovered next to each of the victims he had come across. Given he was the only individual to find them and when he tried bringing it to the attention of the police, they had shrugged him off. They were trying to get to him.

Sheets of white printer paper, the typical horror movie fashion of assembly. Varying letters from magazines, newspapers, old letters, all taped and pasted on the paper in a note. Each one was different, but told in a fashion of a word problem. Some were like riddles.

Either way, with each new victim that appeared, so did a new note. It was one of the things he dreaded the most. Seeing what possibly innocent person had been selected in order to deliver the paper to him. His stomach turned just at the thought of it.

Tonight was not for that, though. Instead he chose to bury it in the back of his brain and spend some much needed time with you. So why weren’t you home?

If there was one thing Peter knew and loved about you was that you were a schedule person. Totally type-a, your day planned to perfection and given it was just after six o’clock that evening, you should’ve been in the kitchen plating your dinner.

Except, there was no you in the kitchen, there was no music or television playing in the background, it looked as though nothing had been touched all day. Until he stepped further into the kitchen.

When his eyes darted over to the corner of your counter, partly covered by your fridge, he froze. There it sat. An uneaten bowl of cereal. The milk on the counter next to it, the cereal box still opened and there.

As he approached it, observing the contents, you hadn’t even gotten a spoon out yet. It was filled to the brim, more so than you would’ve liked, but given it hadn’t been touched some of the cereal had inflated from the milk.

“Bug?” His voice, calm and collected echoed out into the quiet flat. Finally prying his eyes away from the alarming sight he had just seen, he was stumped. Everything else in the living room and kitchen was exactly as it should have been.

Maybe you were running late this morning and didn’t realize until after you had made your breakfast. Yes, of course! That’s exactly what it was.

Peeking into your bedroom, his heart rate decreased, a sense of relief and ease settling over him at the entirely bogus reasoning he had used to calm himself down. Until the most unusual sight of all was spotted.

Your phone sitting soundly on your nightstand, still connected to the charger. His hand rubbed at his closed eyes, trying to will his breathing to return to a normal rate. Tapping the screen, it lit up with dozens of texts. Some from Peter, some from coworkers, a few missed calls from work.

Never would you ever forget your phone. Never would you ever not put the cereal back in its place. Something was wrong.

His trembling hands removed his own phone from his pocket, before entirely losing any semblance of sanity, he dialed your boss’s number. It picked up on the third ring and Peter did his best to sound as normal as he could.

“Hey, Guy! It’s Peter Parker,” he was instantly cut off by his chipper voice on the other end. “Peter! How the heck are you?” He sighed, a shaky laugh escaping him. “Great, great. I just have a quick question for you,” as Peter asked if you had made it into work today, Guy responded fast.

“No, actually she didn’t today or yesterday. Didn’t even call. It’s not like her at all. I think a few of her team members tried texting her and didn’t hear from her either. Everything okay?” It was the worst thing he could have been told at that moment.

Clearing his throat, he tried to remain calm. “Mhm, yeah, yes. She’s just, uh, very sick. It might be a few days before she’s well enough to get back to the office. I didn’t call earlier because I wasn’t sure if she had or not.”

Guy’s laugh of relief was palpable. “Whew, thank goodness! Okay, well tell her to rest up and we’ll see her when she’s all better.” Thanking him and quickly ending the call, Peter tore your apartment upside down.

Any clues he could think of, any sign of forced entry, anything at all. But there was nothing. It was all still in the pristine condition it had been left in. Not a single thing out of the ordinary despite the two big red flags. Even going through every app on your phone, just in case, but it was fruitless.

Alarm bells were chiming in his head, he knew something was wrong. He knew you were in some sort of danger. He collapsed on your couch, wracking his brain for anything that could have given him something to work with.

Then he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye. A small piece of white paper stuck to the tongue of a running shoe you never wore. Turned on its side. He couldn’t remember if he had knocked it over during his rushed search of your apartment, but as he picked it up, his blood turned to ice.

Taped to the shoe were the letters he dreaded seeing. Had been haunting him in his sleep for weeks. When he could sleep that was. Unlike the others, it was almost a clue as to where to go next. His eyes quickly saw the time and knew they were going to strike again soon. Far too soon.

One step forward, three steps back, find her quick before she’s the next attack

It was an anger unlike anything he had ever felt before. Not when his parents had died, not when uncle Ben died, it was so overpowering, Peter truly didn’t know how to control it. Darting out of your window, knowing he was on limited time, he began his search.

A near pointless search. A pill that was hard to swallow. Knowing the chances of actually finding you were so slim. He had the list in the back of his mind, places he had scouted previously that he knew they had used at one point or another.

That was the only thing he could think to do. Which is exactly what he did. Searching one by one individually, spending no more than thirty seconds to one minute at each location before going down the list. Did he destroy some of those places during his searches? Absolutely.

He only grew angrier with each location he arrived at that you weren’t in. His hope was running out. Knowing he was at the last two possible places you could be at that he knew about. It was an abandoned warehouse by the river. The first place he had ever tracked them to, but it was far too late when he made his discovery. They had been out of there for over a week by the time he found it.

They were always just a few steps ahead of him and it drove him mad. His masked face searched the premises from what he could see. Through one of the partly shattered windows, there appeared to be a figure on the far end of the building.

A single light shining on them, their back facing where Peter stood. Sitting in a chair, only a wisp of a shadow, no identifying features to be made out. Assuming it was going to be a fight he was about to step into, Peter broke the remainder of the window and launched himself in.

Eerily silent. No noise in the entire building apart from the howling wind outside. It was beginning to become mid-fall in the city and it was always your favorite time of year. No one was enjoying the crisp autumn air that evening.

It was unbearably stuffy in there. No fresh air had swept through the place in years. The stale scents made that abundantly clear. Peter hesitantly approached the figure, the lighting just so he couldn’t make anything out until only a few hundred yards away.

The minute he saw the tied hands behind the back of the chair, his heart soared. “Bu-bug!” His voice shouted, relief flowing off of him in waves, but they came crashing down just as fast.

He wasn’t even sure if it was you. Incredibly deformed from obvious beatings, your face was swollen, bruised, and bloody like he had never seen before. The zip tie around your wrists had cut into the skin, pieces of flesh hanging from it.

As he looked down, the sticky floor was a deep crimson, continuing to pool from your countless open wounds. No shoes were on your feet, they too were cut and dangling from your seated position, totally limp.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was in your mouth as a makeshift gag, but whatever it was had been there so long, your skin was raw and bruised around it. It was the first thing he removed and as he did, your chipped teeth entered his view.

A blanket was draped over you that was covered in things Peter did not even want to begin to imagine. It was the next thing he went to remove, but he halted the moment it was off your body.

There, stapled to your bare chest, was his next note. The same haunting letters, covered in either your own or someone else’s blood. Based on the missing fingernails, he assumed it was a fight you had given which made him silently pray it was someone else’s, yours already spilled too much.

It took him a second longer than he realized to see that your toes were mainly all facing the wrong way. Your arms bruised from newly broken bones, legs in the same condition.

His trembling voice was the first thing you heard as he cut the tie from your hands, whimpers and choked cries trying to escape your hoarse throat. Immediately going limp, Peter caught you. Your body was convulsing in ways he had never seen, unable to open your eyes and see that Peter had found you.

His tears made heavy tracts on his sweat riddled skin. His gloved hands smoothed over the inflamed sections of your face. “I’m-I’m here bug, I got you. I found you, baby. I got you, okay? It’s okay now, baby.” Despite knowing how difficult and incredibly painful his next actions were going to be, he had to get you out of there.

Medical attention was the only way you were going to be able to survive. That meant Peter was going to have to carry you to the hospital. No possibility of emergency services being able to get to you before it was too late.

He was right. Had he waited for emergency services you would have died. You had been in the hospital for three weeks now. Finally in a state where you were fully conscious, despite the pain that never subsided, you were doing better than everyone thought.

It was unclear how long you had been in their “care” before Peter had found you. Based on the little memory you had from the snatching, it was assumed you had been with them for at least forty-eight hours, possibly more.

Peter hadn’t left your side since. Growing tired of hearing the nurses and doctors praise Spider-Man for having found you and saving you when he did. Hardly. He had hardly saved you.

In fact, this was his fault. It was the conclusion he had made. His careless and reckless behaviors had led them straight to you. He hadn’t spoken to you in a week and look what they had done. They thought they had killed you. There hadn’t been another attack yet. It meant nothing though.

No, the note left for him said otherwise. You’ve made it three steps back, how long until the grand final act?

Peter was frightening you. Since you had been awake and aware of what was happening, he had hardly spoken to you. The deep purple bags under his eyes were only growing worse, skin a sickly gray you had never witnessed in a human before, face hollowing out from lack of rest and food.

All he did was write in his notebook.

Curled up in a chair, he stared at the pages for hours on end. Occasionally writing and scribbling in it. His eyes never rested, constantly darting around the pages. It had been weeks of this. Total silence from him, not sure how to talk to him when he was like…this.

It was another late night in the hospital, having drifted in and out of painful sleep all day. Based on the lack of staff and visitors present, you assumed it was the middle of the night. The hospital floor just outside your door was quiet. An easy night for the staff, you thought.

Trying to figure out how to eat a pudding cup, one of the only things you could keep down, was your current task at hand. The tv playing with hardly any sound, it being the only main light in there, Peter silently re-reading whatever was in that book. That was the current mood of your room.

Eating was difficult. Only having three working fingers on your non-dominant hand, luckily one being your thumb, you struggled to pick up the spoon, also knowing you couldn’t move your arm to bring the spoon to you or bend over to get closer to consume anything. Just trying to move to secure the spoon in your mangled fingers had you on the verge of tears, losing your breath along the way.

You could do nothing without help. Not wanting to ask Peter for any assistance because of how poor his mood was. That was where you two currently sat with one another. Scared to speak to him more than absolutely necessary. Hardly speaking since being here.

His eyes briefly glanced at you before realizing what you were trying to do, throwing his notebook onto the side table. “Hey, hey, hey! What are you even trying to do, bug?” His voice was soft, a slight laugh in his voice, exhaustion evident with each word spoken. Taking the spoon from your hand, he pulled his chair closer to the bed, beginning to bring it to your lips.

It was silent until your eyes darted back at the book, deciding to take a leap. “Whatcha writing?” Your cracked, gravelly, and weak voice echoed through the silent room.

It made him want to revert to a blind rage attack. Your voice that was usually so full of life and excitement. Strong and loud that could command an entire room with only a few words. Now, he could hardly hear you, understand you, look at you. Jaw clenching at the question, his teeth grinded together.

When he closed his eyes, he saw visions of you beaten in that warehouse, left for dead. The immense pain you had been suffering through ever since then. Scars that would never fade, both physically and mentally meant he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Not until he found them.

Your face was doing better, still black and blue, but healing. Able to open your eyes and look at him despite the popped blood vessels. Bandages littered every inch of your skin, wrists tightly wrapped with special medicine for the skin loss.

“Notes,” he murmured, eyes darkening as you asked your question, obviously not wanting to speak about it more. Changing the topic as your pudding came to an end, his hand brushed through your hair, knuckles lightly brushing against your cheek. “What do you need? Anything?”

It was silly. A simple question to see if you really did need anything. It didn’t stop the tears from hurriedly falling down your face. “Yo-you, Peter. I need you. I don’t know where you’ve been, but it hasn’t been here with me. I feel like I’m healing on my own. Like you’re not even here. You sit in that chair, staring at that notebook for days on end. You’ve hardly looked at me, spoken to me, listened to me. Please, just come back to me. Please, Pete.” It was borderline begging, but months of pent up frustration had broken the dam.

Peter’s heart continued to crack with each additional word you said. Realization of what he was doing to you, slamming into him all at once. He nodded, chin resting on one of the side rails, sniffling himself. “I’m here, bug. Whatever you need. I’m so sorry.”

Your only non-fully broken hand you extended towards him, wincing in pain from the movement. Scared to touch you, he only placed your hand back down, removing the side rail to get as close as possible to you.

The rest of the night, you two sat chatting ,watching whatever movies you wanted. It was a glimpse at the man you had seemingly lost all those months ago. Peter was back.

You were released from the hospital just shy of a week later. Peter’s plan to nurse you back to health was his moving in with you. While it was just supposed to be while you recovered, you two ended up enjoying it so much, he was now permanently living there.

It felt like your relationship was shooting by leaps and bounds, spending time together like you had never experienced before. Him being there when you went to bed at night and his face being the first thing you spotted when your eyes opened was a treat you didn’t know you needed.

Feeling content, cared for, respected, and loved like never before. Peter admitted, with your confession to him in the hospital about how distant he had become, tore him apart. He had never seen you moved to tears in such a way, especially over him.

He didn’t realize how deep he had been sucked in until that moment. From then on, Peter swore to keep his other persona on the sidelines for a bit whilst you healed and needed him. Did that mean he was going to stop being Spider-Man in the meantime?

Of course not. It meant that side of him was reserved for the span of time from when you fell asleep to about forty minutes before you would wake up in the morning. Absolutely clueless as to the fact that he had been out all night.

Hunting. Stalking. Tracking.

It was the first night in which you didn’t need him to help lay you down in bed. Peter knew his sleep schedule was already fucked, each time his eyes would drift shut all he could see was you strapped to that chair, nearing death.

And the fact that he hadn’t caught them.

Keeping him up at night, when he could sleep it was plagued by nightmares. Peter knew that there was no opportunity for him to rest while these scumbags were still wandering the streets, looking for another prey to select for their sick games.

Which is why he was doing this without you knowing. Not wanting to worry you and cause you further stress. No, Peter could do this. Would do this. Had to do this. He had made amazing moves. Truly spectacular given the place he had been stuck in before.

They had no idea he had found them, watched their every move, plotted what he was going to do to them. Honestly, when he first spotted one of the three he had discovered had been involved in your…incident, it took every ounce of strength he had to not murder the man right then.

He had to remind himself that all he had to do was provide some patience and the reward would be unlike anything he imagined. And imagine he did.

It was what plagued his thoughts every single day as he watched you hobble around such short distances that only offered pain and tiredness from. His eyes would drift over your still bruised skin as he helped you bathe and it was like witnessing it all over again.

Your hand would tip his chin up, forcing him to lock eyes with you. It was nearly impossible to not see the sadness and hurt in his eyes. Disappointed in himself for letting this happen to you. It didn’t matter because what had happened was now in the past and all you were looking forward to was healing.

The emotional and traumatic scars left on you were not easy to mask. Perhaps that was another reason why Peter was so furious as well. If he moved too quickly behind you, you jumped and a small scream would follow. Trembling for upwards of an hour before settling down. Peter would have to tell you small things to gather your thoughts.

Feel my hand? I`m right here, bug. Here, I want you to use the remote and put on whatever you want. You feel the couch under you? You’re home, baby. You’re safe.

If it weren’t for Peter, you weren’t sure what you would do. He was your rock, your other half, offering reason for unreasonable thoughts. He was your Peter.

The rain was pattering against the window, a sort of white noise you weren’t expecting tonight, but were grateful for it nonetheless. It helped you drift off to a dreamless sleep, exhaustion from trying to do some basic things today taking too much out of you.

Peter was already out of the house before he knew you were soundly asleep. He couldn’t risk being late. Tonight was the night.

Weeks of following them, understanding and breaking their odd patterns, he watched as they went according to plan perfectly. A construction sight for a new high rise. This was their new rendezvous sight for the next attack.

There wouldn’t be another attack.

Counting silently in his head, as he saw a flicker of a small light near the top floor, his count was perfect. They entered exactly on schedule. Crawling down the side of the building and using the thunderstorm to his advantage, he shattered a window a few floors up.

There was no other way that he knew of other than how they had entered and that was far too risky as they had all other doors blocked. As he slowly descended the staircase to scout the floor and determine which room they were in, his hair stood on end as a voice hit his ear.

Three of them. All there. The monsters who were behind your attack. Simply waiting for him.

Except, they didn’t know they were waiting for him. No, tonight was a setup night. Preparation for the coming days of their next plan. Peter had determined fairly early on it was not going to be their final act like they had claimed.

The door was kept slightly ajar with a cinder block, no handles on them yet meaning if it closed, there was no way out for them. Which was their plan for their next victim. Leave the poor soul trapped here with no means of getting out alive.

Peter’s skin was crawling, every instinct shouting at him to just do it. End them now. It would be so easy. He shook off those thoughts, knowing his plan was the correct one.

He dropped to the floor behind them, one of them catching him out of the corner of their eye, a smirk taking over his face. “Spidey boy finally found us, boss.” The thick accent made him hard to understand. Peter kept silent. Very silent.

The other two turned to face him, matching looks on their hideous faces. “How’s your girl? You otta be more careful next time or she could get seriously hurt.” A chuckle escaped them. Peter still didn’t move, watching them from a few paces away.

Quickly deciding they weren’t a fan of the silent treatment, the largest man in the center who Peter knew to be their ringleader drew his gun. In the blink of an eye, web flew towards the gunman, pinning the weapon to the wall behind him.

“Come on now, you didn’t think I knew what you have on you? Just like how I know tweedledee over here is about to throw a knife at me,” Peter ducked out of the way as the blade hurdled towards him. “Now how about we all play nice and introduce ourselves?”

An over exaggerated sigh escaped Peter’s lips as the three men darted towards him, but he acted quickly, webbing them to the surrounding walls, letting one approach him to fight him. “Guess not. Okay, then. I guess I’ll be the one making the rules tonight then.”

Peter grabbed the three chairs from one of the corners of the room before leisurely strolling towards the door and pushing the cinder block from the opening. He whistled a made up tune as he removed them one by one, webbing them to the seats to the point of them not being able to move an inch.

“You know, it’s such a shame sometimes that I wear this mask because I would love you guys to see how big of a smile I have right now. Scouts honor, I am overjoyed that we finally get to do this!” He took his own seat directly across from them.

His head scanned them before pointing at the one on the right. “Let’s start with you bumblebee. What’s your name?” His black and yellow striped shirt was what appointed him his nickname. “You think we’re going to talk? I have nothing to say.”

Peter nodded at his words before looking at the other two. “Same goes for you two then, I assume?” When they didn’t respond, instead only seeing spit hurl towards him, he dropped his head, shaking it. “Such a shame. Alright, last chance. Just give me a name.”

Silence.

A shrug. “It brings me no joy to resort to this, fellas. I’m truly not a violent person. I pride myself on being as gentle as I can be. " He began pacing around, his chair discarded behind him now. “Igor, Viktor, Sasha.” He pointed at each of them individually as he divulged their names.

He gave himself a small satisfactory pump into the air at his success. He could tell he was correct by the little one on the lefts eyes growing slightly wider. It was just the start. As Peter continued on, he got tiny tidbits of information. Only when he presented to them what he knew. Which at this point was everything.

Names, date of births, addresses, spouses, children, education records, dental records, you name it, Peter had it. It still wasn’t enough to get them talking like how he wanted. Instead, Peter fell into the second part of his plan earlier than he had expected.

With seven toes, five fingers, three teeth, many beatings, and an ear, they were beginning to squeal. The leader, Igor, was suspended from the ceiling by his bound hands submerged in webbing. He was entirely nude, body cut up in ways that had blood spilling from him ferociously.

Viktor was webbed entirely to the floor, his entire body covered in fluid despite only one singular nostril. He was the one who cracked first which Peter expected after his reaction to his grandmothers home address in his tiny village in his home country. It was quickly discovered that he was mainly an action man, simply doing what he was told, not a mastermind of any sort.

The other one, Sasha, was who most of the beatings had gone towards once Viktor had divulged it was him who had mainly been the culprit in your beating. Webbed to the wall with no chance of escape, Peter mimicked all the injuries you had sustained on him and then some. Just missing a few fingers and toes now as well.

As the night drew to a close, Peter admired the work he had done. He wiped his gloved hands in a motion to signify he was wrapping up. They were hardly conscious enough at this point to understand what was happening to them. To understand the fate they had drawn themselves to.

There was just one final thing he needed to do. Grabbing the needle and thread he brought with him for tonight and tonight only, he walked slowly towards the nude man. “Did you know that I sew all of my suits? Crazy right! How in the world does he have the time to do this, you might ask. It’s a valid question, but you know what, if I took it to lets say a seamstress, I would be unbelievably broke. Not to mention, how does one drop off the Spider-Man suit without drawing suspicion. First world problems, am I right?”

The man didn’t respond, but as Peter pierced the needle into his skin, his yelp rang in Peter’s ears. “Ah, ah, ah, don’t be moving around now, you’ll make my stitches go all out of wack here.” Peter took his time, but as he finished he admired the handy work.

Sewn into the man chest was a letter of his own. Crafted just for them. A message curated specifically for their enjoyment.

“How time flies, boys. Suns coming up here shortly. Time for me to be heading out.” He smashed a window, ready to crawl out, but he remembered one final thing he needed to do. Walking back over to Igor, he pulled his head back by the hair on his scalp, making him look into the bug eyed mask.

The whimper that fell from the grown man was laughable to Peter. “If you or your dogs come near anyone I love again, our next visit will not be as enjoyable as this one. If you get out of here, I mean.” Tears fell from the corner of his eyes as Peter released his head to fall back into its resting position.

“See you later, guys! Make better choices!” He called out behind himself as he crawled out the window, webbing it shut behind him before making his way home to you.

It was the first time in months that Peter felt like he could breathe. Taking in the fresh morning air, just minutes before the sun began to peak on the horizon, signaling the arrival of a new day. His lungs expanded with the deep breath of air, wanting to sob at the weight removed from his shoulders.

As he made his way back into the apartment, he spotted you in bed. Still curled up in the comforter, sound asleep, none the wiser of his whereabouts the night before. The brusing getting less and less noticeable by the day.

When he crawled into bed next to you, he refused to fall asleep, not tired in the least. No, instead as the sun began to shine through the curtains, he watched you. Watched as your chest rose and fell with each breath, grateful you were taking those breaths.

Because Peter knew that it wasn’t long ago where those breaths weren’t guaranteed. Now, he counted each one, to make sure you were okay. Of course you were okay now. Peter just needed to make sure.

It wasn’t too long after when you began stirring, eyes blinking open to see his golden eyes staring down at you with the softest gaze Peter had ever had. “Morning,” you mumbled, he whispered it back to you.

“You sleep okay?” He asked, to which you nodded, asking him the same. “Of course I did.” You smiled, getting up and ready to start your day.

You just needed to pretended you didn’t see the bruises adorning his knuckles. “What’s for breakfast?”

#ficthots #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #andrewgarfield!spiderman #andrewgarfield!peter parker x reader #tasm fanfiction #peter parker andrew garfield #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter fanfiction

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dark-frosted-heart · 10 months ago

Text

Alfons vs Roger event (Roger end)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Alfons: Now then-

Roger: Let’s get this over with.

Alfons: Oh yes, that’s right. We have to be “friendly” today, don’t we? To be honest, I’m disgusted. But let’s fight together, Roger.

Kidnapper: Wah!

Alfons swiftly gets behind the man and pins his arms behind his back.

While holding onto the man struggling to escape, Alfons bit down on a black leather glove, removed it, and touched his nape with his fingertips.

Kidnapper: Ah…ahh…

Alfons: Look, the people you killed are right in front of you. They’ve come back as ghosts.

Kidnapper: Eek! Get away, get away!

(He’s hallucinating because of Alfons’ ability).

Alfons: What’s there to be afraid of. Let’s have a deeply emotional meeting.

Roger approaches the pale and flustered man.

Roger: I’d shoot you, but sadly I don’t have my gun with me today. Well, this is good enough.

Roger’s raised fist slams into the man’s torso.

Kidnapper: …Guh

The man tumbles onto the floor and faints.

Alfons: Barbaric as ever.

Roger: I only knocked him out. That’s gentlemanly, isn’t it?

Their eyes land on me.

Alfons and Roger: Kate. You’re not hurt, are you?

Afterward, Viscount Morris hands the unconscious kidnapper to the police.

Based on his past criminal records, he’ll never get out of his cell again.

Alfons: So, Miss Kate. It’s about time we heard how many points we’ve acquired.

Roger: Right. I’ve been wonderin’ about it myself.

Kate: Alfons has received a total of 100 points, Roger 101. Roger wins by a narrow margin.

Alfons: I see. Hey, Roger.

Roger: What?

When Roger looked up, Alfons hugged him as hard as he could.

Alfons: I’m very happy to have “gotten along” with you all day. Will this give another friendship point?

While I blinked at him, Roger clicked his tongue.

Roger: That’s just like you. When you win, you take your win and run. And when you lose, you try to sweep it under a rug.

Alfons: Of course I’d rather die than become your servant.

Roger: You’re still hung up on “that”?

Alfons: I’m not holding a grudge. I just don’t like you. Forgive me, Miss Kate, but I’ve gone past my limit on acting friendly with Roger, so if you’ll excuse me. Those sweetheart chocolates in your bag are for the person you like.

In the bag left on the sofa were the chocolates that Alfons had mentioned.

Alfons: Of course, if you really want me to take them, then you’ll have to knock on my door tonight.

Roger: Don’t, he’ll eat you up too.

Alfons: That’s my line. Well then, happy Valentine’s Day.

My cheeks heat off as I watch Alfons make his dashing exit.

(Perhaps Alfons knew this whole time…)

Last night, I was about to knock on the lab door with a fresh batch of chocolates in hand.

When I thought of who to give the chocolates to, Roger was the first that came to mind.

(But I was too embarrassed to give him the sweetheart chocolates and chickened out)

As I agonized over last night, I felt a pat on my head.

Roger: Arguing’s made me tired and now I’m craving something sweet.

Roger picked up my bag from the sofa and smirked.

Roger: Now then—let’s go into overtime.

Kate: Valentine’s market?

Roger: Yeah, I remember Ellis sayin’ something like that when we went out for a drink. Dunno how that guy always gets this kind of info.

Kate: So, why?

Roger: Told you I was craving somethin’ sweet. I’m trying to butter you up to get your chocolate. Hm? Looks like some street performance’s starting over there.

Kate: Huh, oh…it is. I can hear things, but can’t see because of the crowd.

Roger: That so? Then—

Kate: Huh? Woah!

Roger picks me up with ease and all eyes immediately focus on us.

Kate: Roger, please put me down. People are staring…

Roger: Pfft, haha. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Come on, look ahead. Lpok.

I take in the street performance as Roger holds me up.

Kate: The street performance was amazing! I didn’t expect a head to fall.

Roger: Wonder how that works. Victor might know.

Kate: Hehe, probably. Victor’s good at magic tricks.

While sitting on a bench, sipping on some mulled wine that Roger bought me, there was a hint of a smile on the man’s face.

Roger: Glad you enjoyed it.

I suddenly felt embarrassed at the fact that I was enjoyed it like a child and I quickly changed the subject.

Kate: Um, that reminds me…

Roger: Hm?

Kate: What was “that” you were talking about with Alfons?

Roger: Oh, the thing about holding a grudge?

Kate: Yes. But…If it’s not something you want to talk about, then I understand.

Roger: I got nothing to hide. You know how Al and I have known each other since we were kids?

Kate: I’ve been told that you two knew each other way before Crown.

Roger: And that he’s cursed. They say that those cursed are “destined to commit sins and meet a tragic end”. I told him everything he knows. Rather, I forced it on him.

Kate: Why did you tell Alfons the truth…?

Roger: Back then, I was lookin’ for someone else that was cursed. I ended up finding Al. I was so glad to finally meet him that I didn’t even think twice before telling him the truth.

Roger’s eyes squint as if to say “I was just a kid”.

Roger: Once you’re aware, you can’t go back to not being aware.

(The two share a past that only they know)

(So I don’t want to say things as if I understand)

Kate: I’m sure Alfons knows that you didn’t mean to do that. Otherwise he wouldn’t provoke you like a child, would he?

Roger: …Maybe.

Kate: Besides…

Roger: …?

Kate: Besides, I personally would’ve wanted to know the truth. I believe that there’s a lot of things in this world that we don’t need to know. But after knowing, I can think about what to do with it.

Roger: Yeah, I’m with you on that.

Roger smiled in acceptance and leaned forward to look at my face.

Roger: That being the case, let me ask you. Did you come to see me last night?

#ikemen villains #ikevil translations #ikevil #ikevil jp

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siriustaylorsversion · 3 months ago

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This is a cry for help. (from all of India, all women and all victims)

This is not like anything I have ever written before but this is something I just had to talk about. If you have an audience, no matter how big or small, please reblog or talk about this issue. I want this to be talked about internationally as well because I know my country, no matter how hard people try, the government will only be able to sweep this under the rug and there won't be a safer work environment. It is a cry of justice from all of India because of the rape and brutal murder of a medical student.

tw: the next part includes talk about SA and violent descriptions of the crime (i have marked where the descriptions end but please please please spread this news.)

why i need you to reach out- The last case that sparked this big of an online and community outrage was the Nirbhaya case in 2012. Out of the 6 guilty, 4 were hanged, 1 died in jail and 1 who was underage... spent time in juvenile and was let go with all traces of his identity unknown. His name was changed, his face never disclosed, for all I know, he could be roaming around anywhere in India or even outside. That story died down after a few months and now no one in our media talks about it, but an average of 90 rapes a day were reported to CBI (Central Beuro of Investigation) in 2022. I won't go into detail about it but that is a similar horror true story but I will link the resources if you want to read about it. Again, tw: it contains details about SA and violence. The link is there at the end of this post.

what happened- It was around 2 am. After a long, hard 36 hour shift, a 31 year old doctor went to a seminar room to lay down and take a short break after telling her mother that she was fine. In those hours of the night when almost the entire country was sleeping, that girl was brutally beat up, raped and murdered. I will be talking about what happened to her in the next paragraph because what happened to her was truly inhuman and the bastards who did this should be hanged publically so everyone can see the punishment for something as cruel and i lack the words to describe how disgusting this is. The hospital informed the parents that it was a suicide. The parents were made to wait 3 hours before finally being able to see the body of their daughter. And the worst part is, just to make the protests die down, within 24 hours the police announced that they had arrested a man who admitted to being guilty when it was evident that this was not a one-man job. the airpods found on the scene were found in the bluetooth settings of that mans phone and that is it. That is all the "investigation" has told us. I will be updating with any updates on this case but so far, only candle marches and protests have happened and that too by the students.

tw: talks in detail about the injuries.

details of the crime- the girl's legs were at 90 degree angles, her pelvic girdle fractured. her eyes were bleeding due to the glass from her glasses being smashed inside her eye. She was bleeding from every part of her body that was littered with scars, her vagina and her mouth. Her head sustaining head injuries as if it was bashed against a wall. The police suspect she was murdered before she was raped.

Here is why I said it was evident that it was not a one-man job. The amount of semen found inside her vagina was 150 grams. One ejaculation releases 15 grams keep that in mind.

the injury description ends here

how they have tried to cover it up- The hospital began renovating a room very close to the crime scene and gangs were made to trash the crime scene as well to compromise the evidence. The principal of the collage where this happened resigned but got a job just within 12 hours at another prestigious university. THE SAME PRINCIPAL WHO BLAMED THIS HORRIFIC INCIDENT ON THE VICTIM.

resources to help victims of violence and rape- Please reblog, please talk about this story so that it becomes an incident not repeated ever again. So that our mothers, our sisters, our daughters don't have to go through this ever again.

This is a cry for help.

As a medical aspirant myself, I'm scared for my future and the future of all other passionate girls who are trying their level best to work for their career.

the nirbhaya case- What is Nirbhaya case? | What is Nirbhaya case full story? | India News - Times of India (indiatimes.com) details about this case- What happened in the Kolkata rape case that triggered doctors’ protests? | Sexual Assault News | Al Jazeera rainn website and helpline- (for rape, abuse and incest)- RAINN | The nation's largest anti-sexual violence organization helpline- 800.656.HOPE (4673) other helpline numbers- Sexual abuse helplines in India (findahelpline.com)

#kolkata doctor murder #kolkata doctor case #kolkata rape case #cry for help #reblog

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whumpshaped · 1 year ago

Note

a thought : Something so awful happening to beck one evening it makes them almost welcome helle with open arms in comparison (bonus points if even they're worried)

masterlist

tw vampire carewhumper, emotional whump, mugging mention, knives mention, death threats mention, subtle mind control, conditioning, conditioned whumpee

Beck stumbled into his apartment still sobbing, clutching his bag like his life depended on it. What else? What else could go wrong in his stupid fucking life? He had one vampire constantly pestering him, he'd had another try to bite him, and now he got mugged? There had to be something wrong with him. This wasn't normal. He had to be cursed.

He leaned back against the locked door, taking panicked little breaths until he felt like he could move again. He should've gone to the police. He'd just been too scared to do so, the cold touch of a knife still lingering on his neck where it'd nicked him.

He instinctively tried to reach for his phone to call his mom — only to realise that had been taken from him, along with all the money from his wallet and his credit card. At least the guy was nice enough to let him keep his papers.

He wanted Helle.

The thought made him cry even more. He was so shaken, so utterly terrified, and he wanted the vampire? He was losing his mind. But really, who else was going to raise hell for someone wasting 'his precious blood'? Who else was going to visit him at night without having to be called? He had no one else. Nobody would even believe him at this point, there were simply too many bad things happening to him one after the other. People were getting tired of him, he could tell.

Helle wasn't. Helle came back every single night, let him ramble, sat in the kitchen while he cooked, joined in enthusiastically whenever he complained about Christie or work, held him after he woke up from the nightmares they'd caused... They were all he had right now, as sad as it was.

Yeah, because you stopped calling your family as often. You're getting tangled up in the magic they apparently 'never use on you'.

He pushed the thought aside. He didn't have the energy for it. His heart was still racing, he still felt lightheaded and detached, and if his pathetically frightened mind wanted nothing but to run into Helle's arms, well... tonight wasn't the night when he'd rationalise his way out of it.

It didn't take long. Barely ten minutes after he'd finally torn himself away from the door and set his bag on the dresser, Helle walked in, their usual cheery demeanour instantly clashing with the fearful atmosphere in the room. Their red eyes settled on his shaking figure, and Beck found he couldn't even explain anything; all that came out were choked little whimpers, making even the vampire reconsider their evening plans.

"Oh, dear." They slowly walked over to the sofa, concern evident on their face. "What happened?"

Without saying a word, Beck's hands shot out to grab onto Helle's shirt, and they sat down so he could properly cling to them. They wrapped both arms around his frail body, letting him cry it out for as long as he wanted.

"S-someone stole my stuff," he sniffled. "My– my phone, my money– he put a knife t-to, to my throat– said he'd kill me–"

"Poor thing," they murmured, and for once, it sounded genuine. It was all Beck wanted to hear. To know that they did care, and his stupid love that he'd tried to hard to sweep under the rug wasn't entirely misplaced. "Do you want me to go and get your things back, darling? Or do you want me to stay?"

"Stay," he said right away. "Please. 'm s-so scared, I d-don't wanna be alone, I–"

"Shh, alright." They began gently rocking him back and forth, whispering sweet nothings until he calmed down. Beck thought it'd take longer. He thought he'd be crying all night, driving Helle up the wall, yet here he was, quiet and exhausted in their arms after mere minutes.

Like magic, right? They have to be using something. This isn't normal. No vampire puts a human at ease naturally.

He was too tired to care. All he could focus on was the gentle way they'd asked for his preference, the way they were willing to stay with him instead of immediately going on a vengeful hunt through the city. The way they would've gone if he'd asked them to. They were all he had, and they were so much more than enough.

"Feeling better?" Their voice felt like silk against his skin, soft and smooth and so light.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Thank you. S-sorry for... all of this." Despite saying that, he made no effort to push himself away from them. They didn't urge him either.

"No need. Just breathe."

He did. He could finally take deep breaths as opposed to the shallow gasping from before, and it felt nice, like a weight had been lifted. Even being reminded made him feel so warm inside, like he wasn't a bother, like... like he was allowed to just breathe. Like Helle truly expected nothing else from him.

"Thank you," he repeated, emphatic and reverent. It felt good to give into the gratitude instead of fighting it, to simply express his feelings instead of trying to hide them out of embarrassment. "Thank you for staying."

Helle kissed the top of his head. "How could I not, when a sweet thing like you begs me to?"

Sweet thing... It was probably just the sudden lack of adrenaline leaving him sleepy and stupid, but for a long moment, he thought he liked being Helle's sweet thing.

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight @there-will-always-be-blood @pigeonwhumps @echo-goes-mmm @whumpycries @morning-star-whump @d-cs @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @tauntedoctopuses @blueyellow8green @typewrittenfangs @whumpsoda @steh-lar-uh-nuhs

#at my beck and call #whump #whump writing #helle #beckett #vampire carewhumper #emotional whump #mugging mention #knives mention #death threats mention #mind control #conditioning #conditioned whumpee

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ladykailitha · 1 year ago

Text

All My Roads Lead Back to You Part 17

Welp. We are in the home stretch. I’m almost done writing the last chapter and then there will be a small epilogue. Thank you so much for sharing this ride with me on this one.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Edie isn’t exactly sure when it started happening, but she began to notice little changes in her dad’s eating habits. Some times he would go for seconds if he liked it or he would keep some kind of fruit on hand to snack on.

But knowing her dad’s past also helped her notice when he would get that thousand yard stare or when he would jump at certain sounds. Knowing that he had walked through hell, not just once, but multiple times was like slotting in a piece of the puzzle you didn’t know was missing. And just watching all the other pieces that didn’t make sense before form a complete picture.

She knew that they had told her was only scratching the surface. Things they weren’t directly involved in but didn’t want to know. After she was told about their past Mr Munson gave her permission to dig into the incident surrounding the actual fucking lynch mob that was led by a psychotic basketball star.

What made her the angriest was that the asshole died in the earthquake and never had to deal with the consequences of his actions. That the town took that as liberty to just sweep it under the rug. The police chief quietly resigned two years later. No one that was involved in the witch hunt was actually punished for what they did to Mr Munson.

So she decided she was going to make a long distance phone call. A very long distance phone call.

“Miss Thing!” Lily Byers greeted cheerfully. “To what do I owe this totally awesome pleasure?”

“Cousin Itt!” Edie greeted back. “How’s it rocking, girlie?”

“You know,” Lily said, “as much as I love traveling the world, I got soo super jelly of your prom pictures. I’m trying to convince Mom to let spend the last year of high school with you.”

“Just say the word, Cousin Itt,” Edie said seriously, “I will deploy the puppy dog eyes.”

Lily laughed. “I’m not quite that desperate. Yet.”

“Duly noted,” Edie said. “Hey, I need a favor. But first how much do you know about your parents’ high school days?”

“You talking normal angst filled love triangles?” Lily ask slowly. “Or are we talking about nightmare fuel?”

“Nightmare fuel.”

Lily let out a slow breath. “I got ‘read in’ last year.” Edie could feel the air quotes from here. “I’m guessing you’re new to the ‘my parents are fucked up’ club?”

“About a month I guess,” Edie said with a sigh. “Me and Harri Munson. They tell you about what happened to his dad? Eddie Munson? Not the monster shit, but the normies fucking shit up stuff?”

Lily let out another long sigh. “Yeah. The witch hunt of the century.”

“Can you please explain why your mother and father didn’t expose the fucking town the way they did the Lab?” Edie asked pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“That is a really good question, Miss Thing,” Lily said. “And I think you just gave me new leverage against my parents over the whole high school senior year dealio. I’ll get back to you.”

“Love you lots!” Edie said.

“Love you more!” Lily replied and then hung up.

“You know,” a voice said from behind her, “that’s a pretty low blow, weaponizing your cousin that way.”

Edie whirled around to see her dad leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom. His arms were crossed over his chest, but he had an easy smile on his face.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop,” she said glaring at him.

“I just came to ask if you wanted pizza or kebabs tonight,” he said, his smile turning into a grin. “I did knock. A couple times in fact. But you were the one plotting world takeover with your bedroom door open.”

Edie flopped on her bed. “Is that one of the reasons we rarely get together, because we’d take over the world?”

Steve laughed. “One of many. One of many.”

Edie grinned. “I’m just correcting a miscarriage of justice is all.”

“Oh, is that all?” he asked grinning back at her. “Knowing Lily Byers like I do, I fully expect an expose by the end of the week and formal apology from the city of Hawkins and the state of Indiana to Eddie by the end of the month.”

Edie pretended to toss non-existent long hair over her shoulder. “Good.”

Steve pulled her in for a hug. “I think the reason she didn’t is because of me.”

Edie pulled away slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I think she didn’t want to stir up feelings for Eddie after he left.”

“But he left three months after,” Edie insisted. “Why didn’t she say something then?”

“Our town was nearly destroyed,” Steve reminded her. “And the government had found a scapegoat in Henry Creel, got Eddie off and all this while Eddie was still in a coma from being nearly ripped to bits. She had a lot on her mind those first three months. We all did. And then he got a record deal, he was going to be famous. She probably didn’t want to make waves for him and ruin his chances.”

“Damn it,” she sighed. “Those are all really good reason not blow up the biggest scandal since the ‘gas leak’.”

“So maybe tell Lily to ease up a bit on her mom?” Steve asked.

“Not a snowball’s chance in hell, Dad.”

Steve sighed. He figured that was the answer, but felt he had to try. At least a little.

School was ending and Edie and Harri both had summer school. Mandy and Kenny were free, but then they were good in school and mostly liked by the teachers.

Their rich school was a bit backwards. Probably because it had only been built in the last decade, but Mr Pearson wasn’t the only teacher that turned their noses up at old money students like Edie. She had the misfortune to be old money, too. Her family’s wealth went back as far a century at least.

She wasn’t third or even fourth generation wealthy. Her great-great grandparents were stinking rich. They were among the few families to come out of the stock market crash and Great Depression relatively unscathed. It’s why Dad’s trust fund was so sought after.

A trust fund that only grew because he may not have had a head for numbers, he had a head for business. He knew when to pull out if something was failing and when to pour more money in if they looked on the verge of discovery.

But it meant that all the teachers thought that her dad didn’t earn having his daughter at their school. So they always went a lot harder on Edie then they did her friends. All three of which had parents that came from nothing or very little to make their wealth. Mandy and Harri were both children of rock stars. Kenny’s mom invented some kitchen gadget that had taken the world by storm and now was in nearly every house in the country.

Harri was only joining her in summer school hell because two of the credits he needed to graduation next year didn’t transfer over and he had zero desire to sit with sophomores and juniors his last year of school.

“They should standardize the curriculum across the country,” Harri grumbled, kicking at a rock on their way into school.

Edie sighed. She agreed with him, but if they had she wouldn’t have a summer school buddy to be miserable with.

“I hear that,” was what she said instead. “And you should be allowed to skip a class if you don’t want to take it. As long as you get two years of math, who cares if it’s just basic math. It’s like judging a fish by its ability to climb or however that quote goes.”

“Right?” Harri agreed. “Like if what you want to go into takes heavy math that sure, you do the advanced math, but if you’re going into art and the only math you’re going to need is fractions they shouldn’t have to force you into bullshit like that.”

They both had to take a math class and a science class, so they took the same ones so that they could at least have a study buddy.

“I hate that I have to do this,” Edie groused as she flopped down in a desk somewhere near the back of the class. “It means I can’t go to the gala this year.”

“Gala?” Harri asked, sliding into the desk next to hers. “What gala?”

“The biggest event my dad does all year,” she explained, resting her head on her hands and staring off into the distance dreamily. “He’s involved in a shit ton of charities, but this is his biggest. It’s like the it party of the year and everyone foams at the mouth for an invite.”

“So why can’t you go?” Harri asked.

“Because for everyone else it’s a one night event,” Edie said, “but for my dad it’s a week long thing just prepping for it. And because I have summer school, I can’t help him. His rule has always been that I’ve been too young and that was supposed to change this year. I was going to help out and get to go. But because I have this stupid shit, I have to spend the week at Mandy’s.”

“You’re nearly eighteen,” Harri protested. “Can’t you be left home alone?”

Edie sighed. “If it was about Dad being gone all the time, sure. But it’s not. It’s held at the house. Or rather the backyard. There are people coming and going all hours of the day and night. Setting up lights, preparing food, setting up tables. It’s a whole thing. And if I want to actually pass these classes...”

Harri winced. “You can’t be around all that shit...Point well and truly taken. So what are you going to do instead?”

Edie shrugged. “Normally Mr Lawrence lets Mandy have a party that night and we stay up late watching movies, but I think the Lawrences are going this year, so I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

Harri opened his mouth to ask another question, but the teacher chose that moment to walk in and they were forced to pay attention to the class.

***

Part 18 Epilogue

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @trashpocket @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @mightbeasleep @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @trashpocket @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @steddie-as-they-go @lillemilly @callas-shitshow @bisexualdisastersworld @renaissan-vvitch @immortal-iratze @bookbinderbitch @cardigangoth @lilacrobin @nightmareglitter @nerdsconquerall @stxrcrossed186

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #reconnecting years later AU #ladykailtiha writes

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aheathen-conceivably · 2 years ago

Text

Zelda and Antoine were sitting in their bedroom, not a word spoken between them as Zelda wiped the blood from his face; the brightening bruises told her that his injuries would only be worse by the morning.

To cut through the pained silence Antoine asked her if she was alright. Zelda tried to muster a small smile as she looked back at him, still too shaken to answer truthfully, “I’m alright, Antoine. Its you that I’m worried about. Your nose…I’m afraid it’s broken…”

He looked down and shook his head, as though a broken nose was the least of his concerns, "I never wanted you to see that, Zelda. It’s been years since I’ve snapped on someone…but when I saw him grab you…I just…I lost control. This is bad, Zelda, real bad. That man was white. Do you understand? That means the police are going to come for me.”

Zelda lowered her voice and looked him directly in the eyes, “I know, Antoine. A few of the men in the crowd brought him to the station before he was even fully conscious. Josephine and Giorgio are there too. I just spoke with them on the phone; Giorgio has a few connections on the force and he says he’s trying to get them to sweep it under the rug but…he’s not confident they’ll listen.”

“Hell…” Antoine cursed under his breath, his fears barely encapsulated in that one word.

“Drink this, please” Zelda implored, holding out a small bottle of medicine, “your skull is going to feel like it’s splitting open tomorrow.”

Unwilling to think anymore, Antoine happily obliged. He placed his forehead on Zelda’s and let her take him to bed, knowing that in only a few moments the laudanum would render him completely immobile.

Moments after Antoine was asleep, his snores only heightened by the syrup that he took for the pain, Zelda snuck out of their bedroom into Violette’s nursery.

She crept through the door so as not to wake her, and looked down at her daughter sadly. Then she reached her hand into the crib and smoothed down a stray curl that had escaped her bonnet. Almost silently Zelda whispered, “Your father and I will protect you, my love. We’ll protect you from all that is bad and ugly in this world, I promise.”

Then said it again and again, almost as if it were a prayer that she could make true through repetition and desperate conviction. Zelda knelt down next to the crib, still repeating the same promise, the same prayer, simply to convince herself that it was possible at all.

#1926 #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #sims 4 historical #ts4 historical #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #the darlingtons #1920s #zelda darlington #violette darlington #antoine duplanchier

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raeflora · 8 months ago

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I find it weird how so many in the GG fandom love Nate but hate Chuck. I'm not a fan of either, but I don't find any of the main characters likable enough, though they're entertaining but I don't understand their logic. Nate made numerous comments that were questionable throughout the show and enabled and defended Chuck's mistakes and in season 6 he dates and sleeps with a teen as a grown man with a business. If he looked unattractive I'm sure people would criticize him more for it but he's charming enough for them to hypocritically sweep it under a rug. Nate told the police they couldn't talk to Sage because she's a minor and also complained on a date with her about it being too high school for him. He also made a weird comment trying to convince someone to go to a party because there would be grown women dressed like schoolgirls there among other comments. Chuck isn't better than him and Nate is more likable most of the show, but while Chuck's misdeeds weren't handled realistically enough it was acknowledged to some extent while Nate's was swept under a rug in the show. Nate sleeping with a minor was treated like a rich people thing since when he told his grandpa a grown woman was sleeping with him as a teen his grandpa talked of it as normal while Rufus who wasn't rich had a critical reaction to an adult sleeping with Dan as a teen. Miss Carr wasn't rich enough to walk away without backlash, so fans reinforcing the lack of backlash Nate got in the show and hypocritically being woke in Chuck's case to harass real people over a serious issue for stan wars sickens me. I don't even ship Chair and I find it disturbing and disrespectful to people who deal with shit in real life. It feel like they don't really care about the issue they're preaching about. Also most will go on about Blair being mistreated because of ship wars and stan Blair but will much lesser acknowledge the way she treated victims of abuse and slut shamed women as if they are less important because they aren't favorites. Her publicly outing Dan as Miss Carr's victim for her personal agenda was wrong and her doing things like making Eva out to be a prostitute less worthy of respect was distasteful. People judge others for enjoying Chuck's character and while Blair is more likable she was messed up and not someone most would get along with in real life. While I ship Dair I find it hypocritical how some Dair fans will unprovoked be self righteous about shipping them and say shit like they're less retarded than Chair fans while liking Blair who was messy and would likely not support abuse victims if it got in the way of her personal goals and would actively bully them instead. I confronted someone over this and they got offended over me calling them self righteous even though they were offensive first, accusing me of not really shipping them. I hate how people have to act like their side of the fandom is perfect and judge others for what they like in fiction.

hi!! so truthfully after yesterday I wasn't entirely sure where this ask was going but I think I get ur point. obviously I just wanna reiterate that I'm a chair shipper but I agree that a lot of nate's behaviour is overlooked bc he's attractive. like u said there are extremely vocal chuck haters who love nate as if he hasn't done plenty of problematic things too. I think that to a certain degree some fans have a selective memory and are quick to list bad things 1 character has done but conveniently ignore or excuse another character for worse or equally bad behaviour. ultimately for me gossip girl is a show about "bad" people so the idea that they all have to be made to be likeable goes against their character, none of them are meant to be especially good or nice and there's nothing wrong with that. obviously it really depends on the individual, but I think this idea that dair is morally superior to chair is kinda ridiculous bc at the end of the day it's a 00s teen drama where all the characters are varying levels of "bad" and like u said it's hypocritical too

#ask #answered #gossip girl

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growthgoddess · 2 years ago

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Milk borne Mishaps

Grace had always been proud of her farm and ranch. It had been in her family for generations, and she had worked hard to maintain it since inheriting it from her parents.

But one day, a big company came along and offered to buy the farm for a large sum of money. At first, Grace was tempted by the offer, but something didn't feel right about it.

She started to do some digging and found out that the company had accidentally spilled radioactive waste in the nearby river, which had affected her farm's livestock. The company was trying to control the scandal by obtaining her farm and sweeping it under the rug. Grace was disgusted. She refused to sell her farm to such a deceitful company.

But the company wouldn't take no for an answer. They sent their goons to threaten Grace, warning her that they would return with force if she didn't change her mind. Grace stood her ground, but she couldn't have predicted what was about to happen.

She went inside her house and drank a bottle of milk she got from her cows to calm down. Little did she know that she unwittingly consumed contaminated milk that reacted with radioactive waste that her cows drank from the river!

It wasn't long before Grace began to feel strange in her living room, and before she knew it, she was growing. She looked at her trembling hands and realized that it wasn't an illusion, she was getting bigger.

She felt her shirt tighten around her expanding chest and her hips widening against her jeans. Shortly she started outgrowing her clothes, her hardened skin slowly getting exposed with every burst seam revealing her magnificently toned body.

Her biceps thickened and tore her sleeves and her thighs were tearing her formerly loose jeans apart. Grace knew she won't be able to fit in her house if she continues growing at this rate because her head was now brushing against the 10 foot high ceiling.

Unfortunately when she tried to run outside, she tripped and continued growing uncontrollably on the floor. Her body effortlessly brushed heavy wooden furnitures aside and her back grazed and cracked the ceiling. She tried to stand up, but ended up demolishing the entire second story of her house.

The wooden frame of her home buckled and cracked under her force and soon the structure collapsed around her massive, naked body.

Grace stood up and was hit with an uncontrollable rage, as if her brain was dunk in burning oil. She feverishly flailed her 50 foot hulking body around, stomping over her truck and demolishing her ranch.

It wasn't until later that Grace calmed down and realized what had caused her transformation. She knew that the radioactive sewage had given her this incredible power, and she wanted more. She needed to grow even bigger and be strong enough to exact vengeance on the company's headquarters.

Grace stomped her way to the company's factory branch in the countryside. She then smashed the gates and forced her lumbering body through the truck entrance to crawl inside, destroying rooms and locating the barrels of radioactive waste. With no hesitation, she picked them up drank them all as if they were soda cans in her hands. As expected, it appears her body had mutated to metabolize the radioactive material.

Grace felt her body tremble, she got excited by what's to come. Soon after, she grew even bigger, eventually breaking the towering factory building as she outgrew it. Now a 100 foot tall behemoth, she was powerful enough to powerfully plod her way to the company headquarters - a skyscraper in the heart of the city.

With her headache getting worse with every minute, Grace mindlessly rampaged through the highway until she reached the city. Nothing was spared, she knocked over cars and trucks and barrelled though buildings in her way as she made a beeline to the company's headquarters.

Police tried to stop her, but she couldn't hear them nor care less about their demands. Grace only thought of them as additional noise that contributes to her ever painful headache at the moment.

As she reached the gates of the headquarters the company tried to stop her with their security personnel and weapons, but they failed to stop the monstrous woman. Grace stomped to the base of the skyscraper which was easily double her height.

She punched it once, but it still stood. The executives inside, however, were scrambling to evacuate the building as they saw Grace's wrathful face through the clear windows. She was struggling to destroy the building, but she was determined.

She grabbed the building and shook it, hoping to loosen the foundations. Her might caused the entire skyscraper to wobble, glass shattering as the structure started to deform. Grace eventually succeeded in weakening the building and took a step back. She clenched her fist and threw it with her entire body weight directly at the center of the building. Her entire body passed through it as if it were in slow motion. Concrete, glass, and debris started raining down around her, but Grace didn't care, they barely hurt her.

As the dust settled, Grace stood victorious, she beats her chest as if she were a mad beast unleashed. She had taken down the company that had threatened her and her farm. But as she looked around at the destruction she had caused, she realized that there was no going back to how things were. She knew that she couldn't go back to her old life, but she also knew that she couldn't keep causing destruction either.

Grace dusts herself off and walked away from the city, determined to find a way to control her rage and headaches, as well as discover a new purpose to incorporate her new incredible 100-foot body to more efficiently do more farmwork.

#giant woman #giantess #giantess growth #fmg #female muscle growth #giantess growth caption #caption #giantess caption #growth caption #rampage

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rudy-sport · 2 months ago

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my interest in your phonetoy is increasing.... a lot... what would one of the homos do to help the other homo during a breakdown?? :3

So naturally, I'd think steven is more likely to have a breakdown than Matt is

so keep that in mind. [below the cut yall are gonna fuckin hate me bc im actually writing. Like quick one shot writing. bc I can't just explain I have to do it this way.]

Weakness.

That's all Steven felt when he walked into the saferoom. He should've expected this, those idiots he hired seemed too giddy to be working. He should've known they'd do this. It always happens.

There it was. The body of a dead child. Normally, he'd spout the company's slogan. "Sweep...sweep it under the...uh...the rug.." he started to say, but he couldn't finish it. It wasn't fine. None of this was fine. He tried to step forward, but ended up backing up and running to his office.

"Its not fine.." he said. He'd sat down at his desk and held his head, breathing heavily. You'd think years of being around the bloodshed, and even waking up every day reminded of what you are would desensitize you to the horrors of a child dead on the cold floor.

But it didn't. He just held his head and continued trying to breathe steady. It was so much easier said than done, and before long he'd just quit moving altogether, save for the shaking in his hands.

Was time moving at all? Was he dreaming? Where's Matt if he is dreaming? What time is it? Millions of questions fired through the plastic of his head, so much so that is stopped coming out through his voice box and started leaking through the speakers of his receiver. He didn't hear the door open, the questions being louder than his surroundings.

Then he felt a pair of hands gently touch his back, and his mind went blank. This was the police- no worse. A representative of Afton Robotics. He was being sent back to the factory. He was going to die, he was never going to see Matt or their house or their-

"Steven?"

It was like the world stopped. There he was, the only thing that kept him sane in this whole cruel world.

Matt.

"Matt... oh thank goodness..."

"Are you okay, honey? What happened?" He moved to sit on Steven's desk, moving papers aside in a neat pile before doing so. He held his arms open. An invitation the pair knew well. Steven leaned forward and just rested his phone head on Matt's chest.

"Its okay..." Matt whispered, one hand rubbing the phone man's back. His other hand gently fidgeted around with the phone cord connected to the phone.

For a while, the two just sat like that, listening to the sounds in the office and each other's breathing. It was a wonder Matt stayed near Steven. Then again, most people couldn't help but be attracted to Matt's magnetic personality.

Then it sounded like the man was talking, because suddenly his voice cut through all of Steven's grating and painful thoughts.

"You don't have to talk about what happened yet. But tell me sometime so we can fix it. I already know that scary orange man and...Dave did something bad. They keep playing in the dining room."

Ah, the signs that were there. The pair of crayon colored employees had acted like it was their last day at work. Singing, dancing, playing tag or hide n seek. It made Steven's blood boil.

"Hey. It's okay. You don't have to be vulnerable just yet," Matt had whispered, tilting Steven's head to look at him. His dial spun a little, and he just sighed n melted into Matt's touch.

Matt knew just how to help. Quiet talking, gentle touches, and sitting or standing somewhere where Steven could press his face into Matt's chest to listen to his heartbeat.

He didn't even notice when Matt gently took the receiver off of where it was resting. He gently pressed it to his ear while twirling the cord attached to it. Steven did his best to make it seem like his eyes were going wide.

But he didn't have eyes. The best he could do was tilt his head a little. Matt just flashed that familiar smile before whispering into the receiver. Steven should've known, he did this every time when the phone man felt less than ideal.

"I love you, honey," Matt said, pure adoration lacing his tone. "You'll be okay."

Steven was glad to be allowed his moment. Even if the feeling was less than ideal. But he earned it.

A moment of weakness.

#lloyds meowing #lloyds anons #lloyd writes #dsaf #phonetoy #matt x steven

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inverseinvert · 2 years ago

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DGM Danny Phantom WIP

Prologue

AO3 link here

For a while, Amity Park had been debating going worldwide with ghosts. There had been full scale council meetings discussing the matter, with votes and paperwork and everything! (A few younger members of the public had even tried to segue the meetings into repealing the Anti-Ecto Acts, but got ignored by the much older council.)

The main thing stopping progress, however, was credibility. Or rather, lack thereof.

While yes, the Doctors Fenton had papers published in ectobiology and cryptozoology—that anyone could access with a quick internet search—and a few videos had made it to YouTube, the town was largely seen as a tourist trap and a hoax.

Regardless, Amity was determined to go public. They'd take professional videos, update their website, whatever they had to do to prove to the rest of the world that ghosts existed.

But all those plans came to a screeching halt when an emergency alert broadcast worldwide.

Their need for funding, aid, and support against the nuisance of a ghost infestation became inconsequential in the face of true monsters.

Demons.

Akuma.

Hundreds of thousands were dead, thousands still missing and unaccounted for all over the world.

Originally, it was declared a series of bombings and terrorist attacks; but each incident was too varied. News agencies tried their best to sweep things under the rug and governments were clearly shaken; but amateur videos pushed through. Clips flooded the internet, showcasing the devastation as several dozen mechanical creatures descended with cannons, spewing poison and death.Killing without discrimination.

When it became obvious that this was no hoax, that the governments of the world could no longer deceive their citizens—there were just too many videos, too many witnesses—an emergency broadcast was published.

"The New World Alliance may seem ill-prepared; but I promise you, they're not." A dark-haired Asian stood behind a podium, white beret and coat (accented by black) reflecting brightly in the spotlights. Microphones from news stations around the world crowded his face like a pack of hungry dogs as he glanced down through grey glasses at a sheaf of papers.

Even viewed through the screen of a television, the air of gravity was almost palpable.

“My name is Komui Lee and I'm here because I'm the Chief Officer of the Black Order's European branch. Opperating under the direct command of the Vatican, the Black Order has been defending the public from the Akuma threat for close to a century. We've managed to keep collateral damage and loss of life to a minimum. Until now.” His voice turned melancholy, face drawing downward. Eyes staying locked to the teleprompter, he reached for a large ivory mug and started to lift it. Hand faltering just inches above the table, Komui's frown deepened.

The cup was significantly lighter than it should be.

“We are aware that in this instance we have failed in our due diligence; and for that, we ask your forgiveness.” At this, he set down the empty mug and took a deep breath, pushing his shoulders back and holding his head high.

“We come to you in the hopes that you will understand the good work that has been done up until now and ask that you support our exorcists. In the interest of this, please try your best to stay out of harm's way and report any Akuma sightings to your local police or our helpline which should be displayed at the bottom of your screen.”

Attention shifting back to his documents, the worn man—who clearly had been running on pure coffee alone for at least the past week—began to list general safety procedures: what would be required for people to avoid attacks and what to do when they happened.

Lifting his eyes, he ended the speech with, “I must stress that this is not a constant danger. Do not panic and do not engage with these creatures. Ordinary weapons will not work and they take specialist training to combat. Please let the professionals do their jobs. It is, after all, what we're here for.”

He swept a hand left and gestured to the two individuals standing at parade rest beside him.

The shorter of the two had strikingly similar facial features to Komui, but softer, suggesting a relation to the man. Her hair was also marginally lighter and fell all the way to her shoulders. The woman's older partner, by contrast, had legs for days and a sharp expression, with long, blonde bangs hiding an expansive, jagged scar that surrounded her one visible eye. Clinging to her shoulder was a monkey that vaguely resembled a silvery marmoset, regarding the room with massive pupils.

Both women's outfits were made from a thick, black cloth, their accents and embellishments unique to each individual. They may not have matched perfectly, with one showing little skin and the other leaning more fanservice-gothic-lolita, but like a rook and a knight in chess, it was obvious they came from the same set.

“All exorcists will be wearing uniforms like this when on active duty. Please leave them to their work and do not interfere.”

“Thank you for your attention. We will not be taking questions at this time.”

Finished with the announcement, Komui gathered the paper sheets off the podium and aligned them with each other before placing them under an armpit. Gripping his mug in his other hand, the head Supervisor turned to the camera and dipped forward in a curt bow. As he exited stage left, the two women accompanying him copied the gesture and followed their boss off screen.

When compared to the outside world, Amity Park suddenly was "A Nice Place to Live".

The quaint city enjoyed their haunted reputation, its many shops filled with gimmicky graphics and souvenirs. The citizens knew just what to do in a ghost attack and weren’t truly scared. Either the spectres would move on or Phantom would rescue those truly in harm's way.

No one had actually died in a ghost attack, despite many close calls, and ghosts could be reasoned with. They had personalities and morals (no matter how many people said otherwise).

Their town could never function the way it did if they had Akuma in place of ghosts. The idea of it was downright sickening.

Akuma were fiends of true horror and demise. A distinctly alien mindset that could not be related to in any way. Trying to make light of them was nothing short of stomach-turning to anyone with sound ethics.

So Amity Parkers forgot about trying to ask for help. They’d made it this far on their own and would continue to do so for as long as possible. Government resources should be spent on helping those actually in need. If staying off the map prevented more deaths, then so be it; they could muddle through.

They just hadn’t considered that the ghosts might reach out publicly before the humans would.

Please let me know what you thought. No promises on updates or when they might happen as I am still unmedicated for my ADHD 🥲

Also interested to see what people want to see.

MASSIVE thanks to @weshney for their incredible editing skills. They made sure this was actually legible.

#danny phantom #d.gray-man #d gray man #danny phantom crossover #komui lee #lenalee lee #klaud nine #lau shimin #dp x dgm #dpdgm #dp dgm #my art #my writing

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