#friendly neighborhood gift exchange

[zhongrin]

𒆙 deus auri

part 4/8 of ⎡∞ / 𝟔 𝟎 𝟎 𝟎 ⁺⎦, a zhongli 2023 birthday event

© zhongrin | 2023  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

𖧷 tags ┈ gn!reader, teeth-rotting fluff

𖧷 a/n ┈ merry christmas yall! i hope you're being surrounded by your loved ones today (be it physically or online). consider this a christmas gift from me to you <3

𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓊 ❬ masterlist ❭ 𐫱 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 ❬ taglist ❭

𝓃early everyone in your neighborhood knew of your secret admirer, yet no one knew of their actual identity.

they had their speculations, of course. the elders just love to tell you all about their theories whenever they spot you with yet another fresh yellow hibiscus on your person. perhaps it was the young man three houses away, since mrs. feng saw him stealing glances at you? oh, or maybe it was the lady who moved into the neighborhood a few months ago, since the timing matched with when you started receiving the flowers? no, no, it must have been the blacksmith’s child who was just the perfect age for marriage, or the widowed greengrocer who kept giving you discounts, or—

entertaining the musings of the older folks who had nothing better to do than gossip was not your specialty, so a forced laugh and an excuse later, you continued on your merry way, shaking your head with a breath escaping your lips as your fingers brushed the soft petal.

you used to keep the flowers in a vase or press them between book pages to dry them out, hoping to prolong their life, but these days you prefer to have it on you as you go about your day. sometimes you’d wear it on your hair, tucked behind your ear, or weaved around your wrist, and other times you’d slip it on your clothes, going as far as planning your attire around the bright yellow petals. and when the day ended, the bloom would have wilted, but you already knew that the next day, another fresh flower would appear right in front of your doorstep.

truly, a mystery.

as many moons passed, you became curiouser and curiouser. such dedication, such resourcefulness. just who was this silhouette in the dark you could not seem to shine a light upon? as silly as it sounded, you were slowly toeing the lines of curiosity and perhaps even affection, as stupid as that sounded.

there was a florist you would always pass by whenever you returned home from a day of toiling at work. a selection of flowers, though none matched the flower you tucked onto your belt loop for the day, lined the forefront of the little stall, its owner giving you a friendly smile as you approached.

you started placing marigolds on your doorstep before going to bed.

what made you choose the specific flower? you weren’t too sure yourself. perhaps the colors and rounded shape of its floral head that day reminded you of mora, and it was an attempt at darkly humoring the stranger who had been spending their mora to buy all those hibiscus blooms. perhaps you just found them pretty and silently hoped your secret admirer would, too.

the marigold always disappeared the next morning, replaced with your faithful, bright yellow-petaled friend.

the ritual continued on, and just as tireless as your admirer was, you made sure to be just as persevering. not a day passed without the exchange of blossoms - not when it rained, nor when the holidays rolled by.

“mama, look! it’s the adepti!!” a little girl raced past you, dragging her laughing mother by the hand, jumping and trying to seek past the crowd of people flooding the main street at the end of your little neighborhood. the ginkgo leaves were falling, maidenhair petals matching the bright color of the hibiscus pinned onto your hair billowing past as you too, stepped towards the crowd.

they did this parade every single year, both to celebrate the end of a prosperous twelve-month period and to honor the very birthday of the geo archon, and every single time you thought you would ever get bored of it. a magnificent procession along the main streets, a week-long festival before and after, the various stalls opening along the streets, the hustle and bustle of the harbor amplified, joyfulness and the trees seemingly painting the air gold.

“ah, the demon conqueror isn’t joining us this year?”

“he’s the elusive sort, after all.”

”but the great illuminated beasts are almost all here!”

it was hard to make out the words of the people around you as the crowd bustled in excitement and the processional march reverberated so loudly in your ears, so you decided to step and slip around the gaps of enamored people when you spotted your chance.

eventually, your eyes finally fell upon the group as they made their way through the stone paved path. the proud magnificent beasts were always a sight to behold; otherworldly and also imposing. golden and red, intricately sewn flags bearing the symbol of geo along with the harbor itself waved in the air as the sounds of the drums seemed to make the ground shake. the smell of incense filled your lungs, your eyes squinting as the sunlight caught the cor lapis ornaments affixed onto nearly every object and clothing of the congregation. and yet it was said that the celebration march used to be much grander, with dancers and flower petals and scriptures detailing the founding of liyue and the tales of the archon war being read out loud - but your lord himself insisted for it to be downplayed after several hundred years.

and speaking of the devil…

“may rex lapis live and reign for ten thousand years!”

“ten thousand years, ten thousand of ten thousand years!”

this year too, the deity sat upon the resplendent sedan chair carried by four mortals. this year too, he looked as regal in his dark garment patterned with glowing golden threads and - in your opinion - as bored out of his mind. this year too, a stem of-

-wait.

he didn’t have those last year.

marigold eyes glanced toward your direction, and you thought you had induced yourself into having a fever dream when your gazes met. but no, the way his amber eyes slightly widened and the way he suddenly shifted, back straightening from its former slouch and the colors dusting his cheek were very much real. while your lips parted as you tried to process the information, his own lips stretched into a gentle smile; gloved fingers plucking the flower from its pinned place on his outer robe, before placing a fleeting kiss on the one-stemmed tagetes’ amber corolla.

and as the crowds moved, eager to follow your lord, you let yourself be carried away by the sea of eager citizens, your heart doing double flips inside your chest as you tried to fit the puzzle pieces together.

…….. you think your ‘secret admirer’ might be the very god of your nation.

𖧷 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 ❬ taglist ❭ ┈ @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #rin writes #∞ / 𝟔 𝟎 𝟎 𝟎 ⁺

[fuxuannie]

↳ pairing : miles morales x g-neutral reader

↳ synopsis : a complicated crush

↳ authors note : theres someone named 'milestokilometers' (?) thats always in my notifs whenever i post miles and i find it really funny HAHAHA an old draft (like, i wrote this the day i watched atsv), wanted to get it out of the way

The first time you encounter the spider-boy was on a particularly stressful day. You just finished texting Miles that you needed a breather and wanted to hang ontop of your apartment rooftop for a few hours, just to clear your mind.

To your surprise, it seemed like the Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman coincidentally swung by your rooftop and needed a break too.

That sparked a rather.. interesting dynamic between the both of you. You were sort of taken aback on how fond Spiderman seemed of you, since he'd visit almost every other day.

For starters, hugs seemed to last far longer than they needed to when it came to you. You've seen his public appearances, how the exchange seemed to last a mere second with his fans. However with you, it lingers. It stays for almost two seconds longer and almost as if he's starved of such affection.

Secondly was the way he'd swing by at the most random and ungodly hours of the night to knock at your window and go; "I made you a playlist :)" while you just have to let him in and listen to the whole thing with him. You have no idea how he knows that you barely sleep either.

Thirdly is the way he'll always try to put a smile on your face. It'll always be your favorite thing whenever there's a silly thing going on and he looks at you to see if you saw it too, just so he'll see you laugh and laugh along with you.

And one of the more embarassing things to mention were the public appearances. You and Spiderman often went on hangouts, (he called them dates and you unintentionally friendzoned him) and even if you do your absolute best to avoid it, you'll always find paparazzi spotting the both of you. But even amidst the crowd, you can see how his attention is fixed on you. As if nothing could break his gaze if attempted.

You won't ever forget the time that Miles, your best friend and long term crush asked where you got the keychain on your bag from (which was a gift from Spiderman after he pointed at matching keychains and practically declared to everyone in the store he was buying it for you) and you answered: "Someone special to me." You noticed a bit of a glint or glow in his eyes, almost as if he was happy for you.. for some reason.

Though you did admit you found it a little strange.. your best friends sudden Q&A sessions about Spiderman, you mean.

"What do you think about Spiderman?"

"Pretty cool superhero, amiright?"

"His costume does NOT look like hes bleeding from his armpits, surely you'll agree?"

You find it odd but brush it off, at least you're done with class for the day and get to meet with the center topic of every question Miles has asked you today.

"Spiderman." Smiling as he swung onto your rooftop, he arrives on time with the same flashy landing. "(name)!" There he goes to practically tackle you into a hug, squeezing you tightly as you can see the joy in his eyes. "I know that it's only been a few minu- ahem. hours.. since we last saw each other, it's been so lonely!"

You raise a brow in amusement, chuckling a little at his antics. "Aren't you the Spiderman? I'm sure you have a lot of friends or fans who'd love to see you." You inquired but he shakes his head a little and sighs.

"Well yeah.. of course I do, but you're the one I wanna spend time with."

"..That's so unbelievably cheesy-"

"Shut up!" He demands, causing you to laugh at his almost instant embarassment. "You know, my best friend was asking so much about you.. I think he's your biggest fan." You add to the conversation, leaning against a safety fence as he chuckled. "Really? What gives you that idea?"

You huff and cross your arms. "Just.. weird questions. What I think of you, if you're cool and if your costume looked like you were bleeding out if your armpits."

"What did you answer?"

"I didn't answer any of them," You say with a huff, already feeling a headache coming in right after recalling that memory. "But I do think you're bleeding out of your armpits."

"RUDE."

It doesn't take a genius to tell he's unamused even under the mask, how his eyes looked spoke enough volumes. The iconic 'are you serious.' look was evident enough and it makes you giggle, giving him a light nudge. "I'm kiddinggg... kind of."

Spiderman chuckles and crosses his arms, looking at your fit of giggles and smiling softly under his mask. "Cute."

"I'm curious.. you talk about this friend of yours alot.. Miles, isn't it? What's he like?" He asks curiously, knowing damn well he just wants to hear what you say about him to other people. Was this the best way to do it? Not exactly, but curiosity kills the cat.. or whatever the saying is.

"Did I not tell you about him? Well.. he's a bit of a clutz.. rather clumsy at times, usually bumping into me or something.."

Miles was going to pretend he doesn't know the reason he does that is to just be able to be super close to you.

"Sometimes he's a little bit reckless, usually a very messy guy and leaves a mess whenever he goes over to my house.. However, despite all of that.. I really really like him."

What.

"You like m- Miles ???"

He watches you smile fondly at the sky. "Yeah. A lot."

If only you could see the face he's making under that mask, a mix of fluster and absolute joy at those words. You actually liked him. "Well.. what stops you from telling him?" Miles inquired, watching you sigh and bury your head into your hands. "And what? Get badly rejected and lose my best friend? Nah man.. I can't lose him, not like that."

"Hey, look at me."

He places his hands on your shoulders, making you look right at him as he gives you a reassuring squeeze. "You don't have to be so afraid, I don't think there's much to lose.. who knows? Maybe he feels the same."

You chuckle a little at the idea, completely clueless to how excited Miles was gonna be once he gets that text from you. "Thanks, Spiderman."

"You're welcome."

#˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ bailu's candy stash #atsv x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales imagines #miles x reader

[filmofhybe]

Sold Out Christmas Gift

🗯️ pairing : Sim Jake x oc 💌 Genre : fluff 630 wc

; AUTHORS NOTE : Is hoon’s birthday and soon will be Niki’s!! Brought a cake to celebrate on Saturday, look forward to the pictures :)

Masterlist to my other works

I wandered through the bustling toy store aisles, determined to find the perfect car toy set for my nephews. Christmas were just around the corner, and I wanted to surprise them with something they'd cherish and been begging me to get them. I scanned the shelves, hoping to spot the specific set they had been raving about.

As I navigated the store, frustration started to set in. It seemed like the coveted toy was sold out everywhere. I checked every section, asked the staff, but to no avail. Feeling defeated, I sighed and decided to make one last attempt at the checkout area.

That's when I noticed a guy holding onto the set ive been dying to get my hands on for my nephew. He was tall and with an easygoing smile, he seemed oddly fixated on the same car toy set I was desperately seeking. I couldn't help but approach him.

"Excuse me, do you happen to see any of these around?" I asked, holding up a picture of the elusive car set.

Jake's eyes widened in recognition, and he chuckled, "You're looking for that too? I've been searching all over, but it's sold out everywhere."

A sense of camaraderie blossomed between us. We shared a laugh over the absurdity of the situation, both on a quest for the same elusive toy. “Yeah im looking for it, it’s for my nephew. He’s been dying for it.” As we chatted, I couldn't help but appreciate his genuine enthusiasm and friendly demeanor.

Just as the conversation deepened, Jake paused and glanced at the last remaining car toy set in his hands. It was the one I had been desperately seeking for my nephew.

"Well, look at that," he said with a mischievous grin. "Looks like we've got a bit of a predicament here."

My eyes widened in surprise, realizing that he had it in his arms the whole time, meaning there was only one set left. Jake, sensing my dilemma, extended the box toward me.

"I'll tell you what," he said, a playful glint in his eyes. "I'll give you this one, but on one condition." Curiosity and confusion lingered in the air as I awaited his condition. “Alright than,”

"You've got to give me your number," he declared with a teasing smile. I blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected turn of events. Jake, however, seemed genuinely amused by the whole situation. "You see," he continued, "I've been eyeing this toy for a while, and I'd be happy to let you have it for your nephew this Christmas. But in return, I'd love the chance to take you out sometime. What do you say?"

A mixture of surprise and amusement crossed my face. It was undoubtedly an unconventional way to exchange numbers, but there was something refreshing about Jake's boldness and spontaneity. I couldn't help but laugh at the irony of the situation.

"Deal," I replied, a grin spreading across my face. I handed him my phone, and as he entered his number, we shared a lighthearted moment, brought together by the quest for a simple toy. As he handed the coveted car set to me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected encounter. I typed my contact in his phone as well as leaving the contact name as “y/n🩷”, giving him back his phone as we walked towards the check out.

“So y/n huh? This maybe better than that Christmas gift.”

“oh be quiet. I’m just grateful you let me have this set of toy for my nephew.”

“Tell him you got the last set from his future uncle.”

“Moving quick now. I like it..”

© filmofhybe on tumblr — do not copy , translate or share.

labels : @kflixnet @/k-labels @k-films @k-neighborhood

#kflixnet #k films #k lables #k neighborhood #🥥 하이브의 영화 #⛸️*.❅·🧣⋆ 24 days of christmas with filmofhybe #enhypen jake #enhypen jaeyun #enhypen imagines #jake sim fluff #jake imagines #jake smau #enhypen x oc #enhypen scenarios #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fluff #enhypen headcanons #enhypen smau

[tillystealeaves]

I was so excited to participate in the Steddie Winter One Shot gift exchange!! Here’s my piece; my first “Stranger Things” post that I put on AO3. Teaser below; click the link for the whole story!

❄️❄️❄️

Steve wasn’t nervous. He was feeling confident and self-assured as he pulled his car in next to Eddie’s van and approached the new, government-supplied, double wide trailer where the Munsons now lived. His hand wasn’t shaking as he put the car in park- and if it was, it was just in that vague way he sometimes had mild tremors now because of his repeated brain injuries. He wore the jeans he knew made his ass look the best and the burgundy sweater that Nancy said was a good color on him. His hair was perfect, thanks to the amazing help of Farah Fawcett, and there was no dumb sailor’s hat to ruin its effect.

He had changed in the past few years, and all for the better if he did say so himself. But there was still a part of him that was King Steve. Charming. Suave. Knew how to make a girl- a person, he corrected himself quickly- feel special.

And besides all of that, he’d talked this all through with Robin (again) on the phone the night before. He could almost physically feel her loving exasperation radiating all the way from her college dorm in Chicago. “Dingus, yes. You should go for it. It’ll be fine. And even if he doesn’t say yes- which I’m like almost completely positive he will but just if he doesn’t- nothing bad will happen. He’s still Eddie. Our friendly neighborhood metalhead dork, expert kid-wrangling assistant, and your best friend except for me.”

“You don’t count,” Steve had protested, smiling weakly. “Platonic Soulmates are their own category.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Robin had agreed.

So now here he was, standing outside of Eddie’s trailer after they’d both finished work, invited to come and hang out as had become their routine since the Spring Break From Hell. Except today, Steve was going to ask Eddie out.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #platonic stobin #Steddie winter one shot #dustin and his dads

[nari-kami]

Marry Xmas and happy holidays from ur friendly neighborhood dr stoner ✨

Senku and Gen are enjoying the evening in a cafe together 💚💜

This was a secret Santa exchange gift from the #dcsttwtss2023 for Shin :3

I love this community 🥹

#dr stone #dcst #dr stone fanart #dcst fanart #gen asagiri #asagiri gen #senku ishigami #dcst gen #dr stone anime #modern au #sengen #gensen #bokchoy bastard #bat bastard #they are so in love #my art #dcsttwt #xmas #dr stone senku

[archivistofnerddom]

The Bad Batch and Winter Holiday HCs

Because, why not? If the Bad Batch were to live in a random neighborhood, you know they would be here to do all the winter holiday/Christmas thing. So, here we go!

Tech and Wrecker team up to do all the exterior decorations. Things are about amazing as you’d expect them to be. There’s a light show (complete with music), several decoratively placed blow-up lawn (and roof) ornaments, and garlands galore.

Echo put the kibosh on them including fireworks in the light show. They don’t need a repeat of last year’s fight with their (not-so-)friendly neighborhood Karen. (He’s getting them a permit to do a New Year’s/end of the holiday season fireworks and light show as a surprise Christmas present. Just don’t tell Hunter.)

Omega convinces Hunter that they should all have their own trees to decorate to their personal tastes. He pretends to put up a fight and say that they don’t have enough space for that, but relents. (The smell of fir trees is soothing to Hunter, so he doesn’t mind having several trees around the house.)

The sheer variety of ways that the Batch decorate their individual trees is epic.

Omega’s tree has all of the ornament that they’ve made for themselves and each other over the years. She calls it the family tree, and she’s right.

Crosshair’s tree somehow has the most intricately designed ornaments on it and is universally agreed upon to be their holiday photo tree.

Echo’s tree is chaotic enough to make Fives proud. There is no rhyme or reason for his decoration choices.

Hunter goes for a classic look for his tree. It’s surprisingly quite fancy and becomes their dining room tree.

Wrecker’s tree is the living room tree. All of the wrapped presents go under it. It’s an eclectic combination of great vintage ornaments, fun lights (think bubble lights and snowball lights), and warm cheer.

Tech’s tree, of course, winds up on the roof and is part of the exterior light show.

Baking for the holidays is a three day affair. Wrecker and Omega have the best time decorating all the cookies and putting together treat bags for their friends and family as gifts.

Tech does a customized holiday light set-up for their cars. No, he will not ask you if you’re okay with him doing that. You’re getting this set-up. It’s up to you if you want to use or lose the extra decorations that Omega added (like bows and antlers).

Crosshair makes it his personal mission to mess with the neighborhood Karen whenever she complains about their decoration choices. The Grinch replica that wound up *just* on the other side of her property line totally wasn’t his doing. (The fact that he spends the bulk of the holiday season in Grinch sweaters and hoodies is completely coincidental and not at all planned.)

Hunter makes sure they get their yearly family photo around this time of year. He changes the outfit theme every year. The one time he tried to get everyone to dress nice was a near-disaster.

The rotating theme happened because the one year Hunter wanted them to dress up nicely, Crosshair, Tech, and Wrecker all showed up in ugly sweaters without even talking to one another beforehand. The sheer hilarity of that kept it from being a complete disaster. Ever since then, at least one person shows up in an on-theme ugly sweater for the holiday family photo.

Echo and Omega are responsible for their Christmas cards every year. They’re the only ones responsible enough to do that — mostly because they can keep the cards on trend for the holidays.

For as chaotic and messy as it is, Hunter’s favorite part of the holidays is their family gift exchange. Everyone is in comfy PJs, drinking coffee and hot chocolate, and passing around gifts.

Wrecker is responsible for their big family dinner. While everyone helps get ready for that with decorations and setting the table, he’s got everything going on schedule in the kitchen. He loves seeing how much his family and their guests appreciate his cooking.

One year, Omega (with help from Crosshair) made customized stockings for everyone. Those are the stockings that the Batch has used every year since.

Getting a handmade stocking from Omega becomes a mark of true honor and love among their extended family and friend group.

#star wars #the bad batch #the bad batch headcanons #tbb headcanons #holiday headcanons #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb omega

[hanleiacelebration]

Exchange assignments are out!

We’ve received your requests, your prompts, your offers — so much variety and creativity in the HanLeia fandom! We employed our best matching magic and possibly also the Force, and found what we hope will be a great match for each of our participants. And now through the power of AO3, you should have received your assignment for the exchange!

So what’s next?

Find your assignment. Assignments went out to the email address you use for your AO3 account. (Be sure to check junk or bulk mail boxes if it didn’t land in your inbox.) You can also log onto AO3 and find your assignment in your dashboard under “Assignments.” If for some reason you did not receive your assignment, please contact one of the mods.

Make sure you're Tumblr-ready for the exchange. Make sure the Tumblr used in your sign-up is set up to receive anonymous messages, and that you check that Tumblr account regularly (at least every couple of days) during the exchange to respond to messages from your writer or from the mods, as this will be the primary way folks will get in touch with you about exchange business. Plus, it can be a fun way to share the excitement with other participants!

Say hello (secretly!!) to your giftee. Within the next couple of days, send an anonymous message to your recipient's Tumblr Ask box to say hello. This is a great opportunity to ask your giftee questions about their preferences or prompts, to bounce story ideas off of them, or just to greet them and say that you're excited to be working on their gift. And by no means do you have to limit yourself to one message — a little back-and-forth with your giftee can build excitement and help you with your story. If your giftee's Tumblr does not allow anonymous messaging, please contact the mods and we'll remind them to turn that feature on.

Have fun writing! Mods will be checking in with folks the week of December 25 (halfway point, -ish) to see how things are going, but don't feel like you need to wait until then to ask questions or ask for help. Need a beta reader, a cheerleader, or someone to help you bounce around story ideas? Hit us up! Have a problem or a question? Let us know!

Submit your fic via AO3 once it's ready. You'll go to your AO3 account, find "Assignments," go to "2023 HanLeia Holiday Exchange" and hit "Fulfill". Then follow the instructions and AO3 will do the rest!

As always, your friendly neighborhood mods are here to help. You can send an ask to our inbox here at the blog, or contact one of us directly -- @lajulie24, @otterandterrier, or @hanorganaas.

Happy writing, friends!

#mod post #hanleiaholidayexchange2023

[theoddcatlady]

Mr. Ferguson

I think the whole street breathed a sigh of relief when we saw the EMTs take a body bag out of the Ferguson house. I was only about ten or eleven at the time and it’s been a while so some details of my childhood are lost to time, but I can’t forget Mr. Ferguson.

There was never a Mrs. Ferguson in the picture, as far as I know. He lived in the house on the corner, the one with the bright yellow shutters and the gorgeous garden out back. The garden didn’t make up for the rotten old bastard he was. I wondered once if he was nicer when he was younger, when he didn’t have to walk with a cane and could actually get around without help, but my dad set me straight on that one. Mr. Ferguson had always been a terrible person and the neighbor from hell.

All day long, Mr. Ferguson would sit on his front porch in his rocking hair, grasping onto his black cane as he stared out on the street. If someone walking their dog even got close to his yard, he’d start spewing threats about what he’d do if the dog took a shit on his lawn. If a kid put even a toe on his property, he’d get up from that chair and start shouting more terrible things. I learned my first cuss words from Mr. Ferguson, he didn’t censor his language even among the smallest of ears. And he wasn’t all talk. One of my friend’s dogs wandered into the Ferguson yard, just sniffing around as beagles do, and Mr. Ferguson beat that dog bloody. The poor thing had anxiety for the rest of its life and if you so much as passed the Ferguson house with it the dog would lose its mind.

Other than him, our neighborhood was a friendly place. Summers were full of cook outs and pool parties, winters had Secret Santa gift exchanges and someone was always willing to help shovel out your driveway. You’d never be hard pressed to find a babysitter on short notice, odds are your friend had a teenage daughter willing to make a few bucks to make sure the kids were on bed in time.

But not Mr. Ferguson. People did try to bring him in on the fun sometimes. He’d scoff and tell them to leave him alone in no uncertain terms. Mom said he just wanted to be miserable. I didn’t understand how someone could want that and well, I still don’t.

One hot summer morning though, his caretaker came in to do a check and found him in his garden, dead as a door nail. Probably a stroke or a heart attack.

My mom made us go to the funeral. I don’t know why, she probably hated Mr. Ferguson the most and we were like one of five people that went. One of those people was the priest. At least it was short, the priest just said a few words about how we should treasure our lives and be good to others and then Mr. Ferguson was chucked into the ground.

That was that… or so I thought.

The accidents started happening just a week later.

I was at my friend Michael’s house, we were playing board games when we heard the crash. It was so loud it shook the house and Michael dropped his soda. Root beer spilled onto the carpet as we tried to figure out what that sound was for a second.

Then we heard his dad screaming bloody murder.

Forgetting completely about the spilled soda, we ran out to the garage where he’d been working on changing the oil in the car.

Michael’s dad was pinned by the car against the garage door, face white as a sheet as his head lolled to the side. I saw blood splattered against the off gray color of the metal and I puked while Michael ran inside to call 911.

It was luck that he survived. He never walked again and health issues plagued him for the rest of his life, but for a guy crushed by a car that’s probably best case scenario.

It was an accident, sure, but a weird one. The car just suddenly launched forward as Michael’s dad stood in front of it. But there was no one in the garage with him. So yeah. It was just an accident.

But accidents started happening more and more often.

The next one was at the final pool party of the season. We were all at the Benson house because they’d just gotten a brand new hot tub. There was probably like twelve kids running around, the sun was shining, the barbecue was sizzling. I had just gotten out of the pool to grab a lemonade and was chatting with Annie when I heard the pop.

Mrs. Benson and her friends had been relaxing in the hot tub, making jokes and laughing until the pop. Their bodies suddenly went rigid before they began rapidly jerking about and twitching. Mr. Benson shouted if she was all right and I heard this gurgled yell before Mrs. Benson went under.

The kids stampeded out of the pool and I smelled something burning before I realized that the hot tub was on fire.

Mrs. Benson and her sister ended up dying on the way to the hospital. The other woman ended up surviving but not without some serious electrical burns. Electrocution via hot tub. Just an accident. But there was one more accident we all missed until we returned to the pool to see a little body floating at the top. Three year old Maggie had fallen in during the chaos and drowned.

Mr. Benson moved away after that. Losing both his wife and youngest child in that house just killed something inside of him. But after he moved away, we all saw it happen.

His backyard became overgrown by plants. Not over a few weeks, like what happens when a house is uninhabited and there’s no one to mow the lawn. The very day after they’d left that house the backyard was now filled with dandelions, daffodils, lilies. and all sorts of flowers that shouldn’t naturally appear in the late summer.

It was like a garden.

Accidents happen, sure. But not like this. Not when a guy who’s been working home improvement his entire life ends up toppling from a ladder and breaking his spine. Not when a mom trips and falls face first into the open dishwasher and ends up getting impaled on a knife. Not when a toddler was left alone for just a few seconds and ends up nearly drowning in the bathtub.

Dogs ran into the road and ended up getting hit by cars. Kids fell from their bunk beds and cracked their heads like eggshells on their dressers. Teenagers got into fatal car wrecks. It was a mess.

Two other families ended up leaving our neighborhood and their yards had the same fate as the Benson’s- completely grown over. A morbid beauty.

Fall came and the yards grew brown but the gardens seemed to be even greener. The whispers started about a ghost. A ghost that was such a miserable old bastard in life and was now a nasty poltergeist in death.

Mr. Ferguson had never left our neighborhood.

It all came to a head when a tree was struck by lightning and a large tree limb crashed into our living room. I’d just tripped while picking up my things and suddenly the roof caved in above me. I was lucky I was on the ground. If I’d been standing, well, I’d probably not be telling you this story.

Two nights later my mom woke me up. She looked grim.

“Come on. We’re going to see Mr. Ferguson.”

When we walked out of the house, I saw everyone on our street was out. Everyone had this same grim look on their face. The deaths, the mutilation, it’d forever tarnished our street and we’d all had enough. We walked down the street, I saw several guys walk into Mr. Ferguson’s house with mallets and chainsaws, but we kept going with a few of the others. I saw that several of the adults were carrying shovels and containers of lighter fluid.

We walked into the graveyard and my mom led them right to Mr. Ferguson’s grave. She took a deep breath.

“… Start digging.”

It was the frantic endeavors of people who believed they were cursed. Dirt flew in the air and nearly pelted me in the head a few times. I hid behind my mom, who just stood there stone faced.

Even now the accidents weren’t over. A man tripped in the hole and his leg snapped like a twig. He wailed as he was dragged away by a few others before they got right back to digging. Someone else got smacked the face with a shovel and blood coursed down his face from his nose as he just kept on digging.

Finally the coffin was reached, the lid cracked open. Mr. Ferguson’s body laid inside. He didn’t even look dead, it was like he was just taking a nap.

Then they started pouring the lighter fluid in. It covered the corpse’s skin, his clothes. They probably added more than necessary. My mom struck the match and threw it in, shielding me from the sudden burst of flames.

I didn’t get to see the body, but I swore I heard that old man’s yelling as his body burned.

It was over after all that. The gardens were all dead by morning. The accidents stopped. And although we’d lost so many of our friends over the past year, we recovered. New neighbors moved in. We welcomed them into our fold. One or two asked about the property on the corner, the one that looked like a tornado hit it, and we’d just say it was vandals. They stopped asking. We never talked about what we did to Mr. Ferguson’s body. And soon we just stopped thinking about it.

I grew up on that street. Even now I only live a few blocks away. And for so long I wondered why our family was practically the only one untouched by the tragedy. We never got hurt, even when the tree branch came crashing into our living room.

I think I found out the answer. See, my mom passed away a few months ago from breast cancer and I’ve been going through her things. She’s always been such a good, kind woman and it was great seeing pictures of her helping plant the garden behind the church and teaching at the local school.

But in the bottom of the box, hidden under dozens of other albums, was a picture from when she married my dad. Unlike the family picture with the groom, all it was was my mom and an older man. I didn’t recognize him until I flipped the picture over.

On the back was written ‘Pauline Walters (P. Ferguson) and The Father of the Bride.’

#my stories

[kenphobia]

Hello hello!

Thank you for the amazing headcanons, I loved them with all my heart <3.

If it's okay I would like some headcanons about how Jelly Rollstone feel towards the other neighbors (like if there is a specific neighbor who they like the most).

I love their design and that they are the owner of the neighborhood's public library. (^_^)

ANGLERFISH!

"Oh no... It's daytime, again."

summary. jelly's a hermit and everyone knows that, but not a lot of people are willing to just let jelly be in their library. (headcanons, see author's note at the end)

contents. mentions of anxiety, panic attacks (not descriptive) and a generally unwell mindset. most of it is fine and comedic, i think

✦ Most new neighbors move in the daylight, all happy and smiling, and most definitely ready to get to know the others. Jelly is the unfortunate exception to that and may or amy not have made a few residents not sleep for a couple fortnights.

✦ Jelly moved into town with the help of a personal helper and set up their library before the sun could even wake the neighborhood. They often go out on nightly walks but due to their shy nature, they oull their cape over their head and wander around looking like a ghost.

✦ Everyone was ... concerned about it, panicking even. Some thought it was one of the many forest spirits coming to haunt the town, some thought it was a fairy delivering gifts to good people but some people with common sense insisted it's the newcomer AKA Jelly Rollstone themself.

✦ In the end, Wally and his friends managed to lure out Jelly and had a good chat with them that most definitely did not start with Jelly nearly having a panic attack. Now, whenever someone sees a floating cape going around town, they'll say: "Oh, that's just Jelly. Don't mind them!"

✦ After the whole situation, people became used to Jelly and some even visit their library. It's mostly Wally checking on them and talking through them via a magical phone. Speaking of Wally, why don't we start with the darling himself?

WALLY DARLING!

✦ Out of all the residents, Wally is the only one who Jelly had a proper conversation with. I mean, as proper as you can get by talking on the phone. Regardless of how silly their ways of communication is, Jelly is extremely grateful for Wally taking a time out of his day just to talk with them.

✦ In some shape or form, Jelly sees Wally as an older brother. They wouldn't tell him that though and even if they did, they won't be able to talk to anyone for a couple of weeks out of embarrassment.

✦ Wally appreciates them a lot as a friend, though he worries a lot for their health. It's obvious that Jelly is unwell, physically and mentally, and the little painter tries his best in making sure Jelly's comfortable with the neighborhood. He tries to get them out of their library but to no avail, but he was so close but the shrimps he brought as bribe wasn't enough to convince them.

✦ He's also the only one who knows about Jelly being a writer and that they're the one who wrote most of the books and poems in their library. He keeps it as a secret and have to resist bringing the squid puppet up whenever someone rants to him about their books.

✦ Speaking of Jelly's books, Wally draws the illustrations in their novel in exchange to being their beta reader. Though Wally will never admit, he did cry once or twice while reading their work.

SALLY STARLET!

✦ Sally is the self-proclaimed number one fan of J.E Seamoyr, who is actually Jelly under a pen name. She doesn't know though and she writes Jelly a lot of letters, talking about their books. So much so that Eddie had to put Sally on a mail ban because how much mail he had to deliver to the midmight library every single day, hours even. She also started her own book club and a few neighbors joined much to Jelly's dismay.

✦ Jelly's relationship with Sally is a bit rocky. While Sally want to have a friendly relationship with the squid, Jelly isn't that keen on actually hanging out with Sally and prefers that she stops stepping into their library every single time. They wouldn't mind if she didn't keep interrupt their afternoon naps.

✦ As much as they want to tell Sally to get off their back, they don't have the heart to do so because she reminds them a lot of who they were back then... And also because they don't want to receive another scolding from Wally, he says a lot for someone like his size.

✦ Jelly sometimes writes to Sally as J.E Seamoyr after seeing how happy she is and how it helped her on stage. They might not be as bright as the other residents of the neighborhood, but they can and will appreciate good acting.

EDDIE DEAR!

✦ Jelly fears Eddie for no particular reason and the poor puppet has no idea why. Jelly often goes out when the sun is still rising and has a few run ins with Eddie, they always run away before Eddie could even utter a word to them.

✦ In some way, Eddie is also afraid of Jelly. Unfortunately, he's one of the few people who stumbled across a recently moved in Jelly at 5 am, walking around like a lost ghost. He didn't get any sleep for a couple of days and that cost him many, many late letters.

✦ Weirdly enough, he's one of the extremely few people who have seen Jelly. Only a few parts of them since they still wear their cape over their head and their tentacle-like hair covering half of their face. Eddie always remembers Jelly by the sound of their star pins clanking against each other, he'd sometimes wake up in cold sweat and fear whenever he hears Jelly pass his house at 1 am.

✦ They do slowly develop a stable relationship and Jelly has been able to communicate with him through sign language and writing down on their notebook. Eddie's learning sign language because of them and he even has it written down in his little notepad of many reminders.

HOWDY PILLAR!

✦ Howdy met Jelly a couple of times, mostly because he opens his store early in the morning and Jelly does need supplies for their work, so they visit every friday or thursday.

✦ At first, Howdy found Jelly a bit strange ... Maybe creepy too. But when he saw Jelly's tired-looking face, he couldn't help but be concerned. He somewhat looks after them though, but not as much as Wally does since Jelly doesn't exactly trust him.

✦ They do enjoy his presence though. Calming and reassuring, Jelly would describe it, but they'd rather eat pickled peppers than even say it out loud. Sometimes, they would use sign language to communicate with Howdy but it's mostly awkward small talk as Howdy scans their items.

✦ Howdy would drop by the library whenever it's the weekend or he's on break, pick up a short and simple book by J.E Seamoyr and get wrecked in the most emotional and gut-wretching way as possible. Sally recruited him into her book club after she and Howdy had a cry out over one of Seamoyr's novels. Jelly worries that the book club might turn into a cult one day.

(BONUS) THE READER!

✦ Jelly's relationship with you is ... highly dependent on how you treat them. If you're more soft-spoken and kind, you might become one of Jelly's idols and possibly another beta reader. But if you're loud and rash, they'd avoid you anytime you and them met but they'll probably admire you for your boldness. But if you're like the rest of the residents, then there's only a 40% chance you might be their friend or anything else.

✦ As their lover though, Jelly is a worrywart. They're ways running around, nagging you to be careful and is ... clingy for the lack of better wording. They still give you free autonomy over your life, but their hair (or what assume is hair) will turn white if you keep getting into any weird trouble.

✦ Has probably asked Wally and/or Sally to watch you, so don't be surprised if they start hanging out with you more than usual. Speaking of those two, Wally would absolutely disagree with you being Jelly's lover but will control himself for his little sibling their sake, while Sally is be bouncing off the walls and ask you many questions regarding them, most of them are really personal and touchy though.

✦ But regardless if you're their lover, friend, or whatnot, Jelly has a lot of work dedicated to you and maybe even wrote a character based on you. They'll never publish any novel with that character so you'll have dig deep in their drawers for it.

author's note. hi hello!!! tysm for requestin <33 i always wanted to expand more on jelly since they were my first welcome home oc, i just never got them as full developed as june :")) i decided to do four + you since this is an x reader blog after all

i'll share on info about the others if you guys liked this !!! as always, reqs are open and any support is appreciated <3

random thought but would this be considered a headcanon if it is canon... like oc lore wise ... also check out this other headcanons thing i wrote for jelly

#writing log! #welcome home #welcome home x reader #welcome home oc

[littlemissagrafina]

Beautiful Boy

My gift for the absolutely darling @sdottkrames for this years @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Summary: Tony had stood his ground despite Peter's protests. "You and I both know that it's not easy for you to get sick, Bud, and that when you do, it hits you hard. You'll be down for the count for the next few days and I'm not having you push yourself and feel even worse just to stick to our schedule. We have the whole summer, Kid, let's get you better and then we can see about doing another trip but in a different area or whatever."

Read on AO3

Tony had leant over and ruffled Peter's hair in greeting, listening to his rambling intently as he pulled out onto the road. He would occasionally ask questions, somehow keeping track of each change of Peter's train of thought, but once they had mostly cleared the busy city streets, the rambling was mixed in with periods of comfortable silence as well as Tony's own brand of chatting through his own thoughts.

Tony had picked the teen up as soon as the last school bell had rung for the year. He had their bags packed and secured in the trunk, a takeout bag already waiting on the front seat when Peter had opened the passenger door.

It had set the theme comfortably for the rest of the road trip, easy conversation flowed as the highway (and the occasional gravel or dirt road) stretched out in front of them. They jumped from one topic to another, ranging from whatever site they were going to see to fun facts from the area they were in. Tony would have a fun memory of almost every stop they had made along their trip, recalling both the funny and downright stupid things that he and Rhodey had gotten up to on their own road trip years before.

Said memories were the entire reason for Tony and Peter's roadtrip, the teenager having let slip that he had never been on one when Tony and Rhodey had been reminiscing one weekend. Tony had the plan mapped out in his head before the weekend had been over and the next thing Peter had known, it was the beginning of summer and Tony had picked him up; the older hero all but bouncing in his eagerness to share all of the places he still remembered with fondness from his first road trip.

They had moved from one place to the next, sometimes staying in hotels but often laying down the seats with their sleeping bags spread out on, or even, on a few occasions, sleeping outside under the stars.

There was an almost terrifying amount of junk food, snacks, and diner food. An even bigger amount of souvenirs, pictures, and new memories to go along with it. Peter, Tony had found, had an almost alarming love for pebbles, the teenager finding the 'perfect one' at every stop and keeping them all in a pocket in his backpack.

(One or two had even made their way into Tony's pockets as little gifts and Tony made sure to keep track of every single one.) 

They watched sunrises and sunsets from coastal cliffs, drove more inland and explored more forested areas, laughed at the tourist traps but still went along on every overpriced activity. Tony laughed until he got a stitch in his side when Peter had slipped off the log he was sitting on while they were roasting s'mores when a bug landed on his arm. Peter had retaliated by recording Tony while a beetle crawled up his arm, managing to capture the exact moment the man had realised it was there when it creeped up his cheek.

Peter took pictures of everything that caught his eye, whether it was the brilliant pinks and oranges of the sunrise over the waves, lightning arcing across the night sky, or the deserted ant heap he had found during a hike, the millions of tunnels visible from a piece that had broken away from the rest of the heap.

They took selfies too. Some with backdrops at tourist stops and something with trees or beaches in the background. A few featured them in the diners that they had eaten at. 

Tony's favourite was one they had taken at an old retro style diner, the neon lights glowing in the background and milkshakes sitting in front of them. Tony's had been a double chocolate one piled high with whipped cream and melted chocolate drizzled on top and Peter's (to Tony's horror) was a blueberry cheesecake monstrosity that had been mixed with so much blue food dye it had stained Peter's tongue blue for two days afterwards.

With a blue stained grin and whipped cream at the edges of his goatee, it was Tony's favourite selfie of them during the whole trip and if it was set as his background before they had left the diner, well, only Pepper and Rhodey would ever know.

They had reached the last leg of their trip before returning home when Peter woke up with a scratchy throat and slightly stuffy nose. Both Tony and he had attributed it to the overload of sugar they had been eating and cut it down to more savory and healthier foods, but when he'd woken the following day with fully blocked nose, achy head, and even more scratchy throat, Tony had put a pause on the trip and immediately turned them towards the main roads that would take them home the fastest.

Tony had stood his ground despite Peter's protests. "You and I both know that it's not easy for you to get sick, Bud, and that when you do, it hits you hard. You'll be down for the count for the next few days and I'm not having you push yourself and feel even worse just to stick to our schedule. We have the whole summer, Kid, let's get you better and then we can see about doing another trip but in a different area or whatever."

Peter still tried to protest every now and again, the guilt obvious in his expression, so when Tony pulled over at a gas station to grab a few things and fill the tank, he made it his mission to fix things. He angled himself in his seat until he was facing Peter and leant his arm on the center console between them.

"Okay, three things, Bud. You're gonna listen and you're gonna take them in because they're true and I mean it." He raised a brow, waiting for Peter to nod before continuing. "Number one – we've had a pretty awesome time where we have gone so far, and that counts for something, right?" Tony clapped his hands together "It does. Number two – your health takes priority, Peter." He held up a hand when Peter frowned and went to speak. "And no, it doesn't matter that you're Spider-Man, you and I both know that your enhancements don't stop you from getting sick and that your healing factor just makes it worse because it speeds it up. Cho even proved it when we were developing all the medications you might need."

Tony leaned forward and smoothed his hand over Peter's messy curls, letting his hand rest on the pack of Peter's neck. He winced at the slight warmth radiating from his skin. "And number three. We can do this again, Roo. There's going to be more summers, more school breaks, even when you're off being a big shot at college we can find things to do. You're my kid, Peter, and I love spending time with you. Just because this trip is over a little bit sooner, doesn't mean we'll never do something fun again. Hell, next time we can make it a whole big family event and bring along Pepper, May, Rhodey, and Happy."

"You get it? I love you Pete, and this has been so, so much fun. What I need to do now is make sure my kid feels better because I hate seeing anyone I care about be hurt or sick, least of all you. Can you let me do that?"

Peter exhaled, his shoulders drooping as he relaxed back into the seat. "Yeah. I see. I'm sorry I freak out over everything." He frowned at himself and Tony poked him in the side, amusement curling when Peter squirmed away from it. 

"No apologising for things you can't control. Brains are annoying asses when they make us overthink beyond what's needed. Now sit tight, I'll be back in a bit, I'm just grabbing a few things to help you feel better and when I'm back, you're not going to feel guilty because everything is fine. I'm not against using tickles as punishments." With that, Tony hopped out of the car and jogged over to the gas station's store. 

He was quick, grabbing an extra box of tissues and a few throat lozenges in the berry flavours that Peter liked along with a few more snacks and drinks. He made sure to keep the sugar loaded and unhealthy foods to a minimum, instead finding some fresh sandwiches and crackers in the mini bakery section the rest stop had. He loaded in a couple bottles of juices too, but nothing that had mango or cranberry knowing that Peter hated those fruits.

Tony paid and was back at the car within ten minutes and, after filling the tank, they were back on the road. He looked over every so often, making sure that Peter was eating his sandwich and sipping at the juice, ignoring the huffs each time he checked again. It wasn't hovering, it was caution no matter what Rhodey liked to say. 

Eventually Tony grabbed his own sandwich, taking bites between watching the road and Peter. He had Friday on as backup in all his cars but he was careful in any case.

"How are you feeling?" Tony asked softly after Peter had stuffed their trash into the plastic bag that had become their designated trash and tissue bag.

Peter sniffed, shifting around in his seat. He grabbed his pillow and propped it up against the door and window before resting his head on it. He sat slightly skew in his seat but Tony was glad to see he was still buckled in and in a position that wouldn't be bad if something were to happen. 

But even then, Tony had made sure to put extra protection measures in both the physical and technological structure of his cars so he wasn't too concerned.

"I'm feeling a bit worse." Peter answered once he had settled, voice stuffy from his blocked nose. "I feel achy." He grumbled.

Tony felt a mixture of amused sympathy. Peter got adorably grumpy when he was sick and it often led to puppy-like pouts and grumbling over being sick in general. But at the same time, as much as sick Peter was endearing and funny, he was still sick, and Tony hated it. It unsettled him in a way that nothing else quite could. Then again, anything involving Peter being injured or unwell had a tendency to do that, so Tony was learning to go with the flow. 

Tony smiled in sympathy. "I'm sorry, Roo. I have some of your special painkillers in the glove compartment, but no actual flu or cold medicines that will help against your metabolism." Reaching over briefly, Tony pressed a hand to Peter's forehead. "You feel warmer than usual but nothing fever grade yet. Do you think you can try and sleep? It'll help give your body some strength and energy to fight it off."

Peter hummed, pressing against his hand for a moment before Tony pulled it back to the steering wheel. He settled back into his pillow and nodded slowly. "Hmm. I can try. I am pretty tired." He murmured in answer.

"Okay. Do you want the radio on quietly? Or one of your playlists?"

Peter hummed again. "One of yours? The soft rock one?" He blinked at Tony, completely unaware of the soft childlike expression on his face as he asked.

As if Tony would ever deny him anything.

"Of course, Bud."

Tony turned the radio on and asked Friday to queue the requested playlist, the opening chords to Blackbird crooning softly from the speakers as he turned his focus back to the road in front of them.

The songs switched over in the background, the playlist playing over in the background, and when Tony looked over again, Peter was fast asleep. He had turned his head into his pillow, his curls squished in all directions and his mouth parted as he snored gently.

The song switched, soft drums and guitar strings echoing through the car, the familiar voice of John Lennon accompanying it. Tony hummed to the tune, mumbling along to the lyrics under his breath.

"Close your eyes, have no fear."

#tony stark #peter parker #irondad #spiderson #fanfiction #road trip #fluff #sick peter parker #even spidey kids get the flu #father son bonding #iron man #spiderman #mcu #irondad and spiderson

[cbsxreader]

Yandere cbs x yandere house-wife reader?? Like they are crazy for each other and kill people but appear the ideal couple to their suburban community to hide all the murder n secret cannibalism >:D

Omg this is litterally the dynamic between him and my OC Evelyn that I ship with him, like everything aligns, from the yandere to the perfect couple to the house-wife to the cannibalism with a hint of silliness hshebhsjnebrg-

CBS x house-wife reader!

NSFW: Yandere themes, cannibalism, murder

A lot of PDA. Like, that one couple in school hallway kind of PDA. Kisses, hand holding, cuddles or arms around the waists are very casually exchanged between you two in public. It's a way to not only show you're taken but that you also don't want anyone else getting in the way of your relationship.

"I love you~"

"I love you too~"

"I love you more~"

A lot of PDA. Like, that one couple in school hallway kind of PDA. Kisses, hand holding, cuddles or arms around the waists are very casually exchanged between you two in public. It's a way to not only show you're taken but that you also don't want anyone else getting in the way of your relationship.

"I love you most~"

Thhat exchange happens a lot.

Christian lets you do your own thing without him by your side, but not without a couple of hickeys. It feels weird when you're about to go somewhere and you're not suddenly in his hold as he nips at your skin.

To appear less suspicious and to scan out your next victims, you interact a lot with the neighbors. Specifically, you host the neighborhood barbeques. Not only do the neighbors think you two are just friendly but you can also laugh about how you've just fed them human flesh without them knowing and gotten rid of evidence.

"Who was in that meatloaf?" He whispered in your ear when he noticed you had brought a gift to your grieving neighbor.

"Christian, everyone knows I'm yours~" You giggled with a smile, secretly enjoying the sudden affection from him.

"Just makin' sure.." He whispered

About the actual murders, you treat it as a very casual thing. Though if you're still pent up, you're there for eachother. Say, you come home, covered in blood and an axe in your hands, ranting about how a girl wouldn't stop flirting with Christian. He'd come up to you, help you clean off and sprinkle some compliments and kisses to make sure you know he's yours.

"His wife." You answered "I killed her because she was ogling you through the window when you were shirtless." You explained, a sinister smile growing on your face.

"Oh that's sick...I love you for that~"

Slow dancing every once in a while is a thing between you. Christian may not seem like the guy to slow dance, but love makes us do crazy things. But seriously, the closeness and the tenderness is there and it's everything you crave from each other so it works.

Your touch is all he craves. Just a simple graze of your fingertips against his skin is enough for him to want more.

It makes you blush when you realize how many times you've had sex right after murdering someone together. It's just the adrenaline still coursing through your veins and the passionate undertone of doing something like that together as a couple.

He'd propose to you by taking you along to kill someone and revealing that he's stalked a few people for a while only to choose this specific person to kill for their ring. After he explains that, he takes the ring off, gets on one knee, pours his heart out and asks you to marry him. All while you two are covered in blood.

#christian brutal sniper x reader #freak fortress x reader #tf2 freaks x reader #tf2 freakshow x reader

[ffdae9]

My part of the spiderverse gift exchange from ur friendly neighborhood tabbytit-- first chapter of my dogspot au uwu. Enjoy!!

~~~

John wakes up in the rubble of his old research, coughing and struggling to stand. He keeps stumbling, can't get his feet under himself, and as he tries to cry out the sound that leaves him shocks him to his core. A whine. Then a bark. He looks down at the clothes hanging limply around his form, sees white and black fur, and promptly passes out again from the shock.

The first few nights are a blur. His body is strange to him, bones all stretched and fingers shortened and jaw pulled long and wide. He makes gargling, growling, barking nonsense noises as he tries desperately to form speech with his insufficient vocal chords. It genuinely takes him hours to learn how to walk without looking like a drunk puppy. The cadence of four paws is not natural to him! But he's not going to let himself rot here, not going to give up. If he was turned into a dog he can be turned back. It's the only thing keeping him going.

When his hunger gets to be too much and the dirty puddles of water he laps at too offensive to his senses, he finally ventures out of the wreckage. There's plenty of food around in dumpsters or just thrown onto the street, people are so wasteful. Good for him and the other vagrants, at least.

He's digging through the trash in the alley behind a small convenience store when he sees him. A boy, dark skin and fluffy dark hair styled in a way he never learned the name of, god he was bad at this kind of stuff when he was human, let alone as a dog. The boy notices him immediately, crouching down and holding a hand out invitingly as he smiles.

“Hey there, big guy. Whatcha doin? You're too pretty to be a mutt. Pspspspsp, c’mere big guy.”

John weighs his options. On one hand, this garbage is pretty good. On the other hand, he is desperately, painfully lonely, after only a week on his own with no human contact.

He goes.

Pulling away from the garbage and letting his paws hit the ground, he starts stepping cautiously towards the boy, whose smile only grows.

“That's it, c'mere, it's ok. You are a pretty boy aren't you, look at those spots!” His hand never wavers, even as John gets close enough for him to move forward and touch him. He continues to wait, smile warm, letting John make the first move, a show of trust. John heaves out a breath and pushes his face into the awaiting hand, closing his eyes as the boy starts to gently pet him.

“There we are, there we are. Don't have to be scared buddy, that's a good boy.”

John didn't expect the absolute euphoria that would flood through him at that phrase, a whine escaping him as he pushes harder into the boy's hand. The boy laughs, and starts petting him with both hands, scratching behind his ears. He lets out another pleased little woof, pushing even harder against him.

“Awww, you really wanted some pets, didn't you big guy! You're such a sweetie. How could anyone abandon a dog like you, huh?” He snuffles and huffs, trying to push down the emotions that balloon at the prospect. Abandoned… he really was, abandoned. Sure he's a dog now, but no one came looking for him in the wreckage. No one remembered that he had gone back inside. He… he doesn't want to be abandoned again.

With a sudden burst of energy he surges forward and pushes his snout into the boy's stomach, nuzzling and rubbing against him desperately. Please don't leave me please don't leave me.

“Woah! You are real friendly, wow.” The boy hesitates for only a moment before returning to his earlier ministrations, scratching behind his ear and under his jaw. John sits down and pushes more of his weight into the boy's lap, not wanting this to end, ever. He cracks open an eye and looks up at the boy's face when one hand stops petting him, and the boy is biting his lip as he looks down at a phone in his hand, then back to John.

“They didn't let me have a dog before, but…” John yips in distress, pushing his face into the boy's stomach again and eliciting a laugh. He keeps petting him, wrapping an arm around his neck in a little hug.

“I think I can convince them this time.”

~

Miles' house (and his name is Miles! How wonderful!) is spacious for New York, and exceedingly cozy. There's so much warmth in the family photos and colorful touches everywhere. He makes a note to not ever make a mess unless it's important, somehow. And he's never going to destroy anything they don't buy for him! Unless it would be really funny. He can have a few of those.

The convincing of the parents goes surprisingly well. He charms them with his instant obedience, Miles demonstrating that he knows all the common dog commands like sit and lay down and roll over. He tries his best to look extra cute despite not really knowing how to be cute at all, but hanging his mouth open and lolling his tongue out while he looks into their eyes seems to do the trick because the mom eventually relents, the dad following soon after. They both pet him, and, seeing all the dirt, demand Miles' first duty as his owner being to give him a dang bath.

“You're such a smart dog,” Miles says warmly, lathering up his fur with regular sensitive skin shampoo they have on hand. He'll get dog supplies later, but this should be fine for now.

“You listen so well, don't you boy? But ah, I shouldn't keep calling you boy and buddy, should I? You need a name…” As he talks he swipes his hands down John's sides, wiping away the foam and revealing the colors on his coat. His spots.

“Oh, I've got it! I'll call you Spot! I know it's a bit of a cliche dog name, but you really have such distinct spots I haven't seen before, and I think it's perfect.”

Well. Spot it is. As a show of agreement he woofs softly, leaning forward to lick Miles face as he laughs.

“I'm glad you like it, Spot! I can already tell you're gonna be such a good dog.” Scratching under his chin as he says it, Spot can't help but agree. He's gonna be the best dog ever.

~

Miles gets him all the normal supplies, dog bed and food bowls and lots of chew toys. He seems to be aware of Spot’s… above average intelligence and gets him a few of those puzzle toys. Even though he wants to make Miles feel good for getting him such nice things, he can't help but solve them quickly. They're just so simple!! God how he misses fingers. What he wouldn't give to play with a Rubik's cube right now.

But otherwise, things are… things are good. Miles is a wonderful owner, even though he's often gone for long periods. The first time Spot sees him change into the suit he just stares, mesmerized by the lithe muscle he already has, accentuated by the tight spandex. Miles sees him staring and the eyes of his suit scrunch up in mirth as he leans down to nuzzle Spot’s head and scratch behind his ears.

“Be a good boy while I'm on patrol, ok? I'll be back soon, just– gotta make sure things are ok out there. Not leaving you behind buddy, never.”

Spot huffs and nuzzles him back, giving his mask a little lick that elicits the sweet laugh he was expecting. Miles gives him one more scratch and that smile with his eyes before he's out the window and gone.

Spot sighs, jumps up onto his bed, turns in a circle a few times, and flumps down. He'll just take a nap then while he waits. Surrounded by the smell of his owner, it's easy to drift off.

When he wakes to the sound of the window opening, it's far past dark. His eyes take a moment to adjust, but then he sees Miles crawling in and slumping against the wall with a heavy sigh. Immediately he jumps down from the bed and trots over, smelling Miles curiously. The boy laughs as he pulls his mask off, hand reaching up weakly to pet him.

“C-careful boy, I'm- I'm a little tender. Just… just need a minute to catch my breath.” Spot lets out a soft, low whine, nosing against his cheek and gently licking his face. Miles laughs again, the joy smoothing some of the pained lines around his eyes even as he clutches at his side with his free hand.

“I'm ok, I'm ok, promise. Just a bruise. Got… tossed into something metal, don't remember. I'll be ok, I heal fast.” Spot huffs and licks his face again, trying his best to get across his admonishment for putting himself into danger. Clearly Miles doesn't get it because he just laughs and wraps an arm around Spots neck, kissing the top of his head.

“I'll be more careful, promise. Told you I’d never leave you behind.”

You better, he thinks. Unable to voice the thoughts, he walks over and jumps on the bed, looking at Miles expectantly. Rest, he thinks desperately, hoping to get the point across. Miles smiles at him and gets up shakily, stripping off his suit as he walks over and tucking it under his bed, flopping down on top of the sheets in his underwear. Spot can see an ugly bruise forming on his side, already looking days old, so he huffs and lays his head on a part of Miles' chest that there's no damage. After some adjusting to get Miles all the way on the bed, Miles curls up around him and is out like a light. Spot follows soon after, comforted by the familiar smell of sweat and rhythmic breaths.

~

When Spot first changes he and Miles are in his room cuddling on his bed. Miles says something like "I love you, silly dog," and gives him a little kiss on the head, not unlike the many other times he's done it. In the time he's been here, he's grown extremely close to Miles, and the boy to him. Always rambling about his life, as a student and as Spider-Man, about the friends he had made and how much he misses them. About his loss. Spot feels like he's really starting to understand him, relates to so many of his struggles, and his fondness only seems to grow every day. But today, the emotions that run through him feel… different. Sharper.

Spot feels his heart swell with so much joy and then- then the realization that he loves Miles so much but it's. More now. More than he ever thought possible. More than is normal for a dog. He's. In love with Miles. He's in love with Miles.

He's not a dog anymore.

He's on the floor before he really knows what's happening and Miles is halfway up the wall away from him, staring at him with wide eyes. He's surprised the boy didn't scream. He's surprised he's not screaming. In the moment he's mostly processing how cold he is without his fur.

"M-miles?"

They stare at each other for minutes. John doesn't know how many, can't tell, too busy processing all the new sensory input. He's not colorblind anymore, so that's cool. He's just regular blind again. Fuck, he needs his glasses. His eyes start to water from squinting up at Miles on the wall and he closes them with a groan as a splitting headache finally registers in his conscious mind. He curls in on himself, shivering, so cold and so scared and so tired. He's tired of always being pulled away from a good thing the moment it starts to solidify, the moment he starts to relax. His friendships, his marriage. His job. His humanity. He had just become comfortable as a dog, so fucking happy with an owner that loves him and now- now he's probably going to jail and he doesn't know what he'll do then his family thinks he's dead-

He startles when a blanket is pulled around his shoulders. Miles is right in front of him. When did that happen?

"Spot? Are- are you ok? Is... is Spot even a good name to call you anymore? God, youre having a panic attack I think, ok, it's ok man it's ok, I'm here boy, it's ok." Miles is muttering quiet reassurances as his hands flutter around John's face, pushing his hair back, fixing the blanket more firmly around his shoulders. He sits and listens for a few long moments, dumbfounded, processing, realizing he wasn't really breathing all that well before and taking a few deep breaths. Miles’ warm eyes keep him in the moment, keep him from slipping away. His gaze is pensive but firm and so full of care and John is finally catching up and processing what the hell is happening.

"J-John." He rasps out, voice breaking from-disuse? The reformation of his vocal chords? Who knows.

"What?"

"My- my name. Was John."

As he says it he finally feels control returning to his body, fingers jittering and flexing. The first thing his addled brain does is reach out for the thing in front of him that brings him so much warmth and love and strength. He cups Miles face in his hands, thumbs running clumsily along his cheeks. He must look a sight, smile crooked, eyes squinting too much (mom always told him to open his eyes when he smiles, how does one smile differently than how their body expresses happiness? He never got an answer). He's unshaven too, which is funny. He wonders idly how his body decides how much hair to give him in the process of returning him to human. But all those thoughts are distant. The boys eyes are wide but he's not pulling away and John feels himself melt even further.

"Miles," he says softly, voice rich and dripping with warmth. Miles' eyes somehow get even wider, and John feels heat under his palms. The boy brings a hand up to wrap around his wrist and god, his fingers don't even touch. A searing thought rushes past in the background noise but it's easily ignored amidst the plain euphoria that is saying Miles’ name and touching his face with hands that can feel something more. Being a dog is a rich and sensorial experience ok but it's very different from things he remembers about being human. How long has he been doing this? Oh no

“Sorry,” John murmurs, but his hands don't move and Miles doesn't pull at him, just looks at him with big eyes full of concern. He squeezes John's wrist lightly.

“Back with me?” Miles says, cracking a smile. He's good at focusing during stressful situations, John thinks somewhat distantly.

“Y- yeah. Yes, I'm. Here. I'm ok.” He lets go of Miles’ face almost sheepishly, but the boy just laughs and shakes his head a bit as he lowers John's hand to his lap.

“So you weren't always a dog, then. It's - uh- it's nice to meet you, John.”

In lieu of responding to how Miles saying his name just made him feel, a broken little whine slips out of his throat. His mind is swimming, still adjusting to the fact he can even talk again. Months and months of only thinking his thoughts and sometimes being able to act on them has left him impotent.

Miles' face sharpens suddenly, startling another eep! out of him.

“I knew you could understand me! You've always been such an easy dog- and all those times I could have sworn you were doing stuff when we weren't here-! I knew it!”

John whines as the urge to flatten his ears and tuck his tail flows through him unfulfilled by his new anatomy. Miles’ face softens instantly at the sound, hand rushing up to shush him.

“Hey, it's ok boy, I'm not- I'm not actually mad. I'm sure it must have been hard being a dog, not being able to communicate with anyone. And you were all alone then…” he puts a hand on the back of John's head, threading his fingers through the soft unkempt hair at his nape and scratching lightly. John melts.

“Hah, knew that would work, too.”

“H-how,” John starts, pushing past the way his whole body relaxes into Miles’ touch because his brain BURNS with questions, “how are you so- so calm, Miles??” The boy hums, still scratching his neck. He can barely string two thoughts together with the feeling scrambling his brain.

“I think– I'm a person that encounters a lot of strange situations, you know? It's not that weird to me, I guess. Plus you were panicking, and it's a lot easier for me to be calm when I'm helping someone else. It's like- something else takes over to keep me in the moment because I know someone needs me.” John nods, still squinting terribly without his glasses. Miles narrows his eyes suddenly, putting his free hand under John's chin and turning his face to the side to look him over. John lets him easily.

“Hey, you had like, big glasses and short hair before, didn't you? Did you… work at Alchemax?” John's mouth falls open slightly, as several other very obvious pieces of information fall into place.

“Oh,” he says a bit breathlessly, still leaning into Miles' touch, “you were that little Spider-Man. That stole a computer.” Miles eyes widen, his grip tightening imperceptibly, but John isn't afraid. This is his owner.

“...Yes. That was me.” He doesn't offer up anything else, and John feels the need to fill the suddenly oppressive silence.

“It was the collider, I– I think, at least. Everything right before I turned was a blur. I was one of the last people in the building, trying to salvage my work after so many months of toil. When the explosion happened I was near a wall of other experiments, I got thrown into it and then… darkness. I woke up in the rubble as… a dog. As Spot. No way to communicate with anyone, because even if I could scratch something out in the dirt, who would believe me? I barely interacted with my family before because of my work and now I was alone for good because of that lack of connection. And then you found me.”

John can't help the way his voice warms, how his eyes shine with emotion, grabbing Miles' wrist and relishing the way his fingers wrap all the way around and touch. The pulse under his skin a thrumming reminder that he's not alone anymore.

“You found me and took me in and made me feel so safe. I've… I've never been as happy as when I was your dog, Miles. Please … please don't get rid of me. I know it's more complicated now but-”

“Get rid of you?” Miles is incredulous, face pulled back in confusion and something else he can't quite name. He was never good with these tricky emotion things.

“John, I'm not just going to throw you out! I'm not a monster. You need help. And you're- you were- you were my dog! I still kind of feel this sense of, of protectiveness over you. Not just in the fact that I like to help people, but I want to help you. It's gonna be ok.” He smiles at John, so warm and safe and inviting, and he can't take it anymore. He tips forward and buries his face in Miles' neck, wrapping his arms around him and stuttering out a shaking breath.

“I was so scared Miles, I've been so scared.”

“Shhh,” Miles coos, rubbing gentle circles into his back over the blanket. “It's gonna be ok. We'll figure this out. I'm here, man. I'm here.”

John hiccups as a sob rips itself from his throat, tears pouring down his cheeks and soaking into his beard. He squeezes Miles harder and Miles squeezes back even more in return, the pressure grounding him and making him feel safer. He's not leaving. He's not leaving. Miles won't leave him, even now he knows, now he knows John isnt a dog and is in fact a man in his 30s with intense depression and anxiety and horrible social skills. Well, maybe some of that isn't obvious but most of it really is, especially to someone as perceptive as Miles. Still comforting him, rubbing circles into his back even as he squishes him against his chest. God, he knows just what John needs.

“Thank you,” he gasps out a bit breathlessly, voice wet with tears and the snot filling his nose. “Thank you thank you thank you-” Before he can keep rambling Miles shushes him, petting his hair, and standing up. Just. Getting up, still holding John in his arms. Spider-Man strength is great. Miles makes his way over to his bed and sets John down, bundling him up in his blanket.

“You don't need to act like you don't deserve it! I'm here to stay and I'm not gonna abandon you. You don't need to thank me every moment for that. Just… just accept my help. Ok?” As he talks, Miles pushes back a few unruly strands of hair from John's face, brushing away one of the tear tracks with his thumb. John can only stare at him, mouth slightly parted, eyes wide, and nod.

He is definitely in love with Miles.

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely, “y-yeah. Ok. Ok. I… ok. T-thank you.” Miles snorts a breath as he looks down and closes his eyes, but he just turns back to look at John with a crooked smile.

“Good start. Now, let's just, rest for a bit, ok? We can figure this all out in a bit. There's some stuff I want to try, but it can wait. You look exhausted man.” Even though he wants to deny it, John feels exhausted too. He wants nothing more than to curl up in the blanket Miles gave him and sleep for an entire day. And now that he's got permission… the part of his brain that craves attention and problem solving is momentarily beat out by how supremely fucking tired he is, and the direct order is the final nail in his coffin. He nods, sniffling and swiping at his face, and pulls the blanket more around himself as he lays down.

“There ya go, thank you. Just… rest for a bit, John. I'll be right here.” And what is he to do but obey.

#Spider-Verse Holiday Exchange 2023 #spotmiles #not doing anymore tags bc im gonna post this on ao3 when i have more chapters written ajdnhdhdh #none of the italics transferred over and im too tired to fix it manually im just gonna share the doc with toya again its FINE

[kaitidid22]

On Friendship (Conrad/Nic, Nic & Billie, Billie & Conrad)

Summary: Conrad and Nic walk to dinner and have a conversation about Billie, much to Conrad's annoyance. (Canon-friendly & set before Gigi's birth and very early in Billie's return.)

A/N: I set this one from Conrad's perspective, so that was different to write. I'm not sure I'm going to do that again-it was very hard. But let me know if you like it, and maybe I'll give it another go.

I guess this one isn't really set in the Lost Years, but it sort of feels like it in my head. Working on more Conrad/Billie centric pieces!

I cried during the finale. I still haven't recovered. I must have a season 7. I MUST. Please. I beg.

On Friendship

“I invited Billie,” Nic said as they strolled down the sidewalk, arm in arm.

Conrad waited for the flare of dread and loathing in his chest that usually followed the sound of Nic’s best friend’s name. But it remained mostly quiet, the steady thuthump thuthump thuthump of his heartbeat accompanied only by a slight twinge of irritation.

Huh, he thought. But he was trying to keep Nic calm and stay on her good side, so he just shrugged a shoulder and said, “Okay.”

Nic gave him a stern look, and Conrad made a who me? gesture. Secure in the knowledge that she found him adorable, he watched his wife battle against amusement at his cheekiness. In the end, though, Nic won the war, and the stern expression remained.

“What is it?” he asked, resigned to a lecture. 

“No comments,” Nic said.

“No comments about what?”

“Anything,” Nic stressed. “Work, Syria, the past, the future. Nothing.”

“The past and the future are off limits? What’s left to talk about?” Conrad asked, but he kept his tone teasing.

“I have faith in you, Mr. Gabby.”

“That’s a terrible nickname,” he said.

“You have the gift of gab,” Nic told him. “Embrace it.”

“Uh-huh.” 

Without thinking about it, he reached over and caressed her pregnant belly. Nic made a humming sigh of contentment in the back of her throat. A slow smile spread across his face.

If anyone had pulled him aside ten years before and told him he would have a beautiful wife, with a baby on the way and zero desire to run for the hills, he would have laughed himself silly. 

And, yet, there he was with a crackerjack, whip smart blonde in a little red dress on his arm. And their baby was in her belly, and they were strolling towards dinner at their favorite bistro—because they had a favorite bistro—in their own neighborhood, just a few blocks from their house. And chickens. So many chickens.

Conrad loved his life.

“And there’s one other thing,” Nic said.

“This should be good,” he murmured.

Conrad waited. But Nic didn’t speak. Finally, after a few beats of tension, it dawned on him that whatever Nic was trying to tell him was serious—even more serious than their exchanges about Billie usually were. Slowing to a stop, he unthreaded Nic’s arm from the crook of his elbow and stepped in front of her. He brushed a lock of blonde hair out of her face and took in her expression. 

She looked hesitant, and that wiped the smirk right off his face. Nic knew she could tell him anything. 

“Nic, what is it?” he asked.

“She doesn’t like compliments,” Nic said. 

The words came at him in the serious voice Nic employed to tell him that a patient’s labs were dire or their sats were dropping. Conrad would be the first to tell anyone he was an idiot, so he should have known not to focus on the words themselves but listen to the way she’d said them. And, still, he didn’t. He only heard the literal meaning, and an incredulous expression slid onto his face.

“I beg to differ,” he said, almost laughing at the absurdity. “Billie Sutton’s ego would shock Liberace.”

“She’s not that person anymore,” Nic said. She wrapped her hands around the open front of his leather jacket to pull him closer. “And she was never as bad as you made her out to be.”

He let out a loud, humorless laugh, and Nic dropped his jacket entirely, lips thinning. He braced himself for all the things he had heard from her over the past three years any time the topic of Billie had come up in conversation—a topic that had turned any conversation into a fight about eighty percent of the time in the months following the whole, awful mess with Conrad’s patient.

“You know I understand why you turned her in,” Nic had said, shoving her sweater in her bag.

Conrad had thrown his arms wide. “Then why are you mad at me? I had no choice.”

She had been rushing around his apartment, gathering up her belongings. He had been panicked at first, thinking something was truly wrong, but then she had explained that Billie had accepted a surgery position with Patients in Health. Only the recruiter had told Billie that she had needed to be on a plane that same day, and Nic would have to meet her at the airport to say goodbye.

“There’s always a choice, Conrad,” Nic had said. “And there was a hell of a lot more nuance involved than you were willing to admit.”

“What nuance? She wasn’t supposed to cut, and she did. It seems pretty black and white to me.”

“Oh, yes,” Nic had snapped, startling him. “Because your decisions are always so black and white. You fucking live in the gray area, Conrad.”

Conrad had told himself to take a deep breath. He had known when they started dating how close Nic and Billie were. He hadn’t liked it, it hadn’t been convenient, but he had known.

“My patient will never walk again, never talk again. He was young, Nic. He had his life ahead of him,” Conrad had said.

“I know. And it’s awful. And I’m so sorry for him and his family,” Nic had said. She had stopped rushing around the apartment. “I have to go. Billie’s flight is in three hours. If I don’t leave now, I’m going to miss her.”

“Fine,” he had said.

Nic had given him a look that held so much disillusioned disappointment that it had felt like someone stabbed him in the chest. And, then, Nicolette Nevin—the most even-keeled person he had ever met—slammed his front door on the way out. Yet another thing that had been Billie’s fault.

As Nic watched him brace for an attack, she morphed into sharp edges before his eyes. But all she said was, “You promised you would try.”

Yeah, I did that, he thought, regretting it for the ten thousandth time.

Conrad drew a breath in through his nose. “I did. And I am.”

Nic continued to watch him. Her eyes were sad and irritated and fierce and determined. Conrad shoved aside the irritation that was sharpening itself against his gut like a lode stone. 

“I am,” he said, trying to convey a sincerity he didn’t really feel.

But Nic, of course, saw right through that. “Conrad,” Nic said, sighing and looking away into the night.

They had reached the small business district of their quiet neighborhood. Strings of lights zigzagged through the air over the street. A few couples were walking hand-in-hand, and the smattering of restaurants had set their sidewalk tables out for the night. Laughter floated through the air.

“Aronson was a lazy hack with rusty skills. He hid behind his residents,” Billie had said. 

And didn’t that ring true? Nic’s voice—the voice of his conscience—pointed out in his brain. You hate Aronson.

Conrad shoved the thought away. He didn’t want Billie and her issues taking up any of his brain space if he could help it. He placed soft hands on Nic’s shoulders, cupping around the tension. Nic deserved more from him.

“I am trying,” he said again, trying to convey his sincerity.

She drew in her own deep, calming breath, but her face still troubled. “Okay.”

“Now. Explain,” he murmured. “Why doesn’t Billie like compliments? And why are you warning me about this?”

“She does. She’s a human being. Everyone likes compliments. But…” She stopped and folded her arms over her chest, muttering, “I feel like I’m betraying a confidence.”

Curiosity piqued, Conrad studied her face. “Are you?”

“No,” Nic said, with a rush of breath. “She’s never said… She’s never explained it to me. It’s just a spidey sense. A best friend thing.”

“If you map it out, then I can avoid stepping on a landmine,” Conrad said, dropping his hands.

“She likes compliments about her brain, about her work. Because she is actually quite brilliant, and she knows that,” Nic said. Then she gave him another stern look. “Which is a good thing. More women should be confident in their abilities. And, yet, when they are, society treats them like—I’m rambling.”

Conrad waited, quiet. 

Nic rubbed her fingers across her forehead. “She doesn’t like compliments about how she looks.”

Conrad’s eyes narrowed to a squint. “Come again?”

“She doesn’t like anyone to mention how she looks,” Nic said, arms still tight across the top of her pregnant belly.

“Billie Sutton,” Conrad said, drawing the words out slowly to highlight how little this made sense. “Doesn’t like being told she’s pretty?”

“That’s right,” Nic said, calm.

“I find that hard to believe,” he said. He made the words teasing, throwing on a disbelieving half-smile for good measure.

“Well, believe it,” Nic said, not at all charmed. “And this is a nice place. So, she’s going to dress to match. Billie is very careful about that sort of this.”

“What sort of thing?” Conrad asked, confused.

“Etiquette,” Nic said, sounding annoyed with him. “Dress codes.”

“Etiquette? She tried to make Devon park her car,” Conrad pointed out.

“Devon tried to steal a parking space she was already pulling into when she was in a hurry to get to my hospital room,” Nic countered. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t have stonewalled some stranger trying to pull rank in a parking lot over an unassigned space?”

Conrad’s brows slammed together. He really wanted to argue with that. But she would see right through him if he tried.

“For the record,” Nic added, because Nic was always fair. “Billie wasn’t right, and she knows that. She felt bad about it later.” 

“Oh, did she?” Conrad murmured. He doubted that.

Nic wrinkled her nose. “Kind of. She felt worse about the impound fee than Devon. She might have said that she would make it a goal to annoy him until his hair vibrated.”

Conrad choked and swallowed down the inappropriate laughter that wanted to escape. “Wow,” was all he said. 

“We’re still working on the anger management.” Nic cleared her throat. “I know Billie. And she’s going to wear a dress to dinner because that’s what would be expected.” 

Conrad paused. As he stopped to think about it, he realized that he had rarely seen Billie out of scrubs, and, when he had, it was long sleeved shirts and sweaters and pants. If Billie Sutton owned a sundress, she had never worn one around him.

“So, no comments,” Nic said. “Just pretend she’s in jeans and a sweatshirt. Got it?”

“I have seen Billie dressed up before,” he pointed out.

Turning, he slid her arm back through the crook of his elbow. He was encouraged when she settled her fingers on his forearm and leaned into his side.

“Oh yeah?” she asked, wry. “When?”

“The first-year resident’s reception,” he said, triumphant.

Nic snorted, unimpressed. “Seven years ago? And you don’t think that’s a little weird?”

“Do you?” he asked, pointed.

“I don’t know. A little, I guess.”

“Okay,” he murmured. “Why?”

“Billie blossomed young.”

“Blossomed?” he echoed on a laugh.

“Fine. She got boobs,” Nic snapped at him, but she didn’t sound irritated. “And she was so pretty and friendly and suddenly she looked like a teenager. But we were only eleven? Maybe twelve. Mom was still alive.”

Conrad squeezed her arm.

“Anyway,” Nic said on a sigh. “Boys started hitting on her, and she was still just a kid. And she wasn’t even all that interested in boys. She liked to read, and she had this chemistry set that her dad gave her that we were obsessed with.”

Conrad felt a warm rush of love picturing a miniature Nic in safety goggles. “You must have been so adorable with your tiny microscope and beakers.”

She hummed in acknowledgement, but she was distracted. “I remember it made Billie uncomfortable, but the other girls were already getting boy crazy, and they were all so jealous. She got bullied a little.”

“Ouch,” Conrad muttered, uncomfortable with the pang of sympathy he felt.

He couldn’t really relate, but he knew how teenage boys were, and he wanted them nowhere near his daughter. He had already started coming up with elaborate plans to keep boys away from her forever. A moat around the house had seemed like a good idea in the wee hours a few days prior.

“We stopped going to the pool. She started wearing these bulky sweatshirts.” Nic sounded thoughtful, like she had never really considered all of this so deeply. 

“She had you,” Conrad reminded her.

Nic’s smile twisted. “Until her family moved away. Anyway, the next time I saw her, we were eighteen, and she was already a lot like she is now. Or was. Before she left.”

Nic stayed quiet, and he could almost feel her brain turning. They were only a block or so from the bistro, and he nudged her gently with his elbow.

“You know, you never told me how you got back in touch,” he said, knowing she would bite at the chance to tell a sanctioned—nay, requested—Billie story.

“I haven’t?” she asked, surprised. 

Conrad shook his head, throwing her a little smile. Talking through all of it had seemed to help Nic relax. She had even stopped rubbing her belly every few minutes as if she were checking to see it was still there.

“I found her on one of those social media sites freshman year of colleges,” Nic said, voice perking up a bit at the happier story. “I was thinking about her one day… Missing her, really. Facebook had just come out, so, I searched her name, and I didn’t really think I would find her. But there she was at a school only a couple of hours away. It felt like fate, so I sent her a message.”

“And that was that? You were just back to best friends like no time had passed?” he asked, mostly teasing. 

But the question was always there for him. Because he couldn’t understand the bond Nic and Billie had. He couldn’t reconcile the Billie from Nic’s stories, the love and affection in Nic’s voice, with the arrogant, smirking, superior, and razor-sharp Dr. Sutton who had hated him moments after meeting him.

“She answered within three minutes.” Nic sounded smug. “Said she’d missed me, too, and asked if I up for a field trip that weekend. So, I drove out to see her, and the rest is history.” 

Conrad kept the comments rolling around the back of his mouth to himself. He hadn’t seen her so easy and carefree in months. He liked it. He liked the color in her cheeks and the soft smile playing with her lips.

And he knew that Billie was a big part of it, which stuck in his craw but was getting easier to swallow each day Billie stayed in Atlanta. The week prior, he had heard them laughing through the floor, shushing each other more loudly than the laughter, in an effort not to wake him after a night shift. He hadn’t heard Nic laugh like that in… He wasn’t sure how long.

He would never admit it to anyone, but the sound had made him grin.

“I just want her to be home,” Nic said. “I know that’s selfish.

“She’s your best friend,” Conrad said, hoping he didn’t sound as grudging as he felt saying it. “Of course, you do.”

Nic squeezed his arm. “Thank you for understanding. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

“Eh,” he said, uncomfortable with her gratitude given how much he still resented Billie’s presence in their life.

He didn’t like having her back. Everyone knew that. But he also found her confusing as hell, and all the times Nic had insisted that Billie wasn’t the same Billie Sutton who had left Chastain in disgrace were starting to lodge themselves in his brain. He had started to wonder if Nic wasn’t right.

“Yes, I understand what I did. And I will never get over it,” Billie had said. 

He had been able to see she was holding back tears by sheer will alone. He had heard it in her voice, seen it in her face. And, yet, she had still been looking him dead in the eye because she was Billie Damn Sutton and absolutely nothing scared her.

When Conrad had started as an intern at Chastain, he had been older than the others thanks to his time in the Marines. And the others had all seemed like children compared to his war-worn brothers in arms. It had been hard to take any of the interns seriously. Lives were in their hands, and all they had been able to gossip about was which attendings had been sleeping together.

But Billie. One look at the surgical intern cohort, and his eyes had locked in on Billie without hesitation. He had disliked her on sight. She had held herself apart from the other interns—everything about her had screamed  I’m not here to make friends. 

Conrad had known with one look that she had zero life experience to back up the confident tilt of her chin, the superior look she had settled on her peers. She had been a day one intern. She had never even cut on a living person before stepping into Chastain. She had never earned the right to call herself a surgeon, to volunteer for thirteen-hour surgeries, and tell everyone she was neuro as if her success had been a foregone conclusion and everyone else had simply been a beat behind. 

But Conrad had seen that glint of fearlessness in new recruits’ eyes too many times not to know that Billie was going to fuck up if she didn’t get that ego in check. His biggest fear had been that someone else was going to pay the price for her arrogance. 

And over the ensuing years, she had proven herself to be talented. Even Conrad had to admit that. She had scared the hell out of the other interns on her rotations—always with the right answer, always the attendings’ favorite, always Billie Damn Sutton and you had better know her name.

It had taken five years to prove Conrad right. So long that even Conrad had started to question his instincts, to ask if she had merely been unpleasant and brilliant enough as a surgeon to be tolerable. And then Billie had screwed up in an irreversible, horrible way. And someone else had paid for that arrogance. Someone Conrad had cared about. 

God he had loathed her. And he had taken satisfaction in punishing her. Even if it had punished Nic in the process.

But then, eight years later, Billie Damn Sutton had sat down across from him and admitted he had been right to take away the one thing she cared about. But with her chin held high, of course, which had just made him raise an eyebrow, even as he had studied her with new eyes. 

And then a half-second later, she had let the wall of pride crumble away and added, “Man. That was really freaking hard.” Which had made him want to laugh.

Conrad swallowed a groan. He didn’t want to like Billie Damn Sutton. 

And I don’t, he reassured himself.

But, seriously, what neurosurgeon (let alone a fifth-year resident) was able to pivot to pediatric trauma surgery under the pressure of a war zone? He knew that in times of war, especially in crisis response organizations like Partners in Health, everyone pitched in doing wherever was needed. But he had made some calls and asked friends to do some digging. She was respected. Very respected. She was good. Maybe even great.

In the end, what Conrad had learned was that Billie could pursue trauma surgery as a career if she wanted. And that would have been an easier sell than neuro, showing hospitals she had learned her lessons, lowered her expectations, and would avoid treading on familiar ground. She probably could have found a surgical residency in trauma without much effort, really, especially with three years of Partners in Health horror on her resume.

And, yet, Nic had told him the Billie was still actively trying to find a neuro surgical residency. Begging where she thought it might help. Because Billie Sutton never took the easy out, apparently.

“She seems better,” Nic said, pulling him out of his thoughts. She sounded pensive. “Don’t you think?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she waved a hand in front of them. “Oh, you wouldn’t know,” she said, and then slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

But he just laughed because he loved when Nic got awkward. It was so rare and such a treat to see her blush. Even when she was mean, it was only an accident, and she was generally right to boot.

Nic hurried to explain. “I just mean, you don’t know Billie well. And you never talked to her while she was in Syria. She’s been so different. This last year, she’s barely even made time for video calls. We used to have them weekly when she could get wifi.”

Nic licked her lips, and Conrad wondered if she realized how tightly she was squeezing his arm. “She seemed edgy when she first got back to Atlanta. But these last few days have been…nice. She’s seemed like her old self almost. Well, the old self I knew, anyway.” Then she glanced up at him and bit her lip. “Sorry. I’m going on and on about Billie.”

He didn’t respond with words. Standing in the light of the bistro’s windows, Conrad pulled her to a stop and leaned in to kiss her gently. Instead of pulling away, he moved his lips to her forehead, wrapping his arms around her body, belly nestled between them.

And he knew she heard him saying, It’s okay. I love you.

“I think if you gave her a chance,” Nic said, quietly, “then you and Billie could be friends. Good friends.”

“I think that’s unlikely,” Conrad said, but he smiled to soften the blow.

“She’s not perfect. But she knows she’s not perfect, and she’s always trying to be better. To do better,” Nic said. “That counts for something, Conrad.”

“It does,” he agreed. Reluctantly, he added, “And I’ve noticed that. I’m just not…sure.”

“I want her to have friends,” Nic said. “She doesn’t make them easily. And you’re the very best friend a person could ask for. I want her to have you.”

Awed by his wife, Conrad pressed another kiss to her forehead. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I have ever met,” Conrad whispered against her skin. “And I love you for it.”

“I love you, too,” Nic said.

“Good,” he said. “It would be really awkward if you just let me hang around because you couldn’t get rid of me.”

“Oh, for goodness’s sake,” Nic muttered. “Go on. Get inside.”

He held the door open for her and followed her through. She spotted Billie almost immediately, and Nic walked to her best friend with arms wide open. Billie’s smile was blinding—white and wide and carefree as she met Nic halfway.

Then her eyes caught on Conrad over Nic’s shoulder, and the smile dimmed. Or maybe dim was the wrong word, he considered. Because nothing really changed with her face. Her smile was still wide. But a subtle shift had occurred, and she looked careful, watchful, less happy.

As Nic let go, Billie’s chin came up, and she gave Conrad that serene, stay-six-feet-away-at-all-times look with her eyes.

“Conrad,” Billie said.

Nic had been right. Billie was wearing a dress. And she looked nice—Billie was probably incapable of looking anything but, even if she made an effort—but Conrad said nothing except, “Hey, Billie. You two hang here, and I’ll get us a table.”

“Thank you, honey,” Nic called after him.

Billie gave him an arch look, but nodded a begrudging thank you. Then she turned back to Nic with that easy, happy smile, and put her hands on Nic’s belly, asking for an update.

Like hell Billie Sutton and I will ever be friends, Conrad thought on a sigh, loving that his wife was an idealist.

#the resident #billie sutton #fanfic #nicolette nevin #conrad x nic #nic nevin #conrad hawkins #gigi is just a baby in a belly

[retro-memo]

For the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange and @iron-mum! I hope you enjoy this fic and I wish you a Merry Christmas!

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man), Happy Hogan, Dummy (Iron Man movies), You (Iron Man movies), Friday (Marvel), Karen (Spider-Man: Homecoming), Pepper Potts, Other Character Tags to Be Added

Warnings: Swearing

Ao3 link

"H'y Kar'n." Peter paused, taking a moment to swallow the bite he'd taken out of his sandwich. "Can you crank up the heat a little? It's getting chilly up here."

"Of course, Peter." Not even seconds later after she said that, there was a low sizzling and Peter leaned back into the suspended hammock he'd strung up earlier, basking in the warmth.

It was times like this when he really appreciated Mr. Stark's suit. Especially now that it was the middle of December and temperatures were way colder than they had any right to be.

Peter was pretty sure if he had been wearing his old suit — and no it wasn't a onesie. Stop calling it that, Mr. Stark — he would've probably gone from Spider-Man, and this was in May's words, to 'Spider-Popsicle'.

Which was something Peter found a little ridiculous since it hasn't even started snowing yet.

He would've been fine.

Well, he wouldn't have gone into a coma like last year when he was waiting for Mr. Stark to fix his usual suit after the wiring got damaged in the fire and he was stuck with his old one. 

Maybe. 

Peter groaned and threw his arm over his eyes, cursing his stupid spider DNA. Why couldn't he just have gotten the cool powers without basically having snow as his kryptonite?

Was that too much to ask of the universe?

"Peter, there's a police report of a bank robbery two blocks down from us."

"Wait, really?" Peter perked up at that and lifted his arm; all thoughts on spiders and the overprotective adults in his life flying out of the window.

"Yes, there are reports of six armed individuals holding several hostages in the building." Karen paused. "They appear to be possessing extraterrestrial firearms."

"Wait, extraterrestrial?" Peter froze, his outstretched wrist hovering mid-air from where he aimed it. "As in alien?"

"It appears so." That was the last thing that Peter expected to hear today. Especially since Toomes had been in jail for the better half of this last year. It couldn't have been him that sold these.

So it wasn't him, that meant it had to be someone else that sold these weapons…

"Should I contact Tony Stark?"

Peter blinked. "Uh, no. No." He shook his head. "You don't need to do that, Karen. I'll be fine."

At this point, he'd gotten very much used to Karen suggesting to call Mr. Stark. He had a sneaking suspicion that she'd been programmed to do that but decided to not question it. It was nice to know help was there if he needed it.

"Are you sure, Peter?"

"Yeah, besides what's the worst that could happen?" Peter paused only for a moment. "Hey Karen, do you think Mr. Stark would like an early Christmas gift?"

"While I can't speak personally, I believe he'd appreciate it. May I ask why?"

Peter grinned. "Send Mr. Stark a message that I'll be swinging by to drop off a present."

Tony had been having a pretty good morning if he had to say so himself. 

For once, he actually got in a full night of sleep. And no; he didn't mean his usual two hour power catnap that came with ditching the other five in the lab way. 

This time, he clocked in all seven hours and was energized in a way that he hadn't felt since forever.

Hell, even the cheese burgers and coffee he had ordered had tasted better than it had in ages. It felt as if nothing could ruin this day. Not even one of those dreary meetings that Pepper had set up for him seemed to dampen his mood. 

That was until he got a message from Peter. 

Tony didn't want to think the worst of the kid.

But goddamn, Peter made it hard. The newly-sprouted grey hairs on his head - that certainly weren't there before the kid practically bulldozed into his life like a bull in a China shop - were enough evidence of that.

So when he got the notification from the kid's suit about Peter dropping off a 'present', all sorts of possibilities immediately started whirling through his mind.

With the kid involved, that 'present' could range from a 'minor' stab wound to being shot or even impaled.

Tony tried not to think about those 'worst-case' scenarios as he glanced at the workshop's window. It was the one of kid's favorite spots to crawl through when he popped in for lab days after patrol.

The kid had to be fine. If he wasn't, Tony would've already known from the suit which was programmed to send out an automatic distress signal if something had gone wrong.

This time around, he'd even made sure to put extra encryption so that the heart-attack-inducing kid wouldn't be able to hack into it again with his grubby fingers.

Unless the kid somehow managed to bypass the codes again and was bleeding out somewhere without Tony knowing. Too far away to call for any help.

Alone. Cold. Hurt and -

"Hey, Mr. Stark!"

"Holy shit!" Tony jumped, the soldering iron that he'd been holding clattering onto the metal table below as he whirled around to where the offending voice had come from.

"No, just me." The kid's head popped through the window, and even through the window, and even with the damn mask on, Tony could practically see the grin from where he was standing

The little shit.

"Oh, hey, kid." Tony crossed his arms, watching Peter as he crawled through the window. The kid seemed fine, his movements didn't seem jerky, there wasn't any visible blood that he could see and -

"What the fuck is that?" Tony knew what it was. He recognized it as soon as the kid landed on his feet and turned to face him but still.

"Uh." The kid shrugged as if the glowing alien weapon wrapped up in his arms wasn't a big deal. It was comically picture perfect to the whole damn turtle fiasco from a few months ago. "Merry Christmas?"

"Where the hell did you get that thing?"

"I found it on patrol." The kid answered like it explained everything and Tony stared. 

So much for a good morning. 

"What are we going to do with it?"

"We're not going to do anything." Tony leveled a glare with Peter. "I'm going to take this Happy and have him deal with it the way he wants to and you're going up to your room."

He should've known that with Peter, it wasn't going to ever be that easy.

"Why do I have to go to my room?" The kid looked awkward but determined as jutted his chin up and shifted on his feet the same way he always did when he didn't agree with Tony. 

In a way, it reminded Tony of May whenever they would get into an argument. Which didn't happen a lot even after finding out about Peter's alter-ego. 

"I didn't even get hurt this time and technically, I got the weapons here. Finder's keepers."

Kids these days and their damn loopholes.

Tony scowled. "One, because I said so and two, I know for a fact that you have one of those fancy language quizzes tomorrow. May called me earlier to make sure that you study for it if you swung by."

"Wait, you talk to my aunt?"

"Just give me the weapon."

"But—"

"No." Tony shook his head. "Kid, I value my life. I'm not going to risk it with your scary aunt."

Tony wasn't exaggerating there. May was terrifying in her own right. He'd been there to witness how May transformed from Peter’s usual sweet aunt into a pissed off mother bear who’d tear his head off if it meant protecting her cub. 

He wasn't going to go through it again. 

"Please?" Goddammit. The kid was on the verge of pulling out the big guns; those damn puppy eyes that made even the coldest of men melt into a warm puddle of goo. Tony knew if he didn't get this finished quick, it was going to be game over. 

"Come on, Pete." He was on the verge of begging the kid to throw him a bone. A small chance. He could feel himself crumbling, just as he had with the turtle. "Just hand it over. I promise later after you've finished studying, we can blow up some other stuff here in the lab."

The kid didn't miss a beat. "Can we work on it for five minutes, please?"

And there they were. Those puppy-dog eyes that not even Tony on one of his best days he could say no to.

His mouth dried as he stared at the kid, who was clutching the weapon against his chest. Like it was a stuffed animal rather than something capable of massive destruction.

He groaned, throwing his hands up, finally waving the white flag of defeat. "Fine! But if your aunt asks, say that you were doing boring non-dangerous shit."

The kid grinned, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as if he didn't con Tony into risking his life on the line. "Thanks, Mr. Stark! You're the best!"

"Uh-huh." Tony waved Peter off. "You better remember that next time when you're grounded."

The kid giggled and Tony rolled his eyes as he turned back to the table and picked up the soldering iron that he'd dropped before.

He faced the kid again, gesturing to the table behind him. "Okay, gently, place here. We don't want to accidentally blow that thing up. For all that we could know, just sneezing the wrong way could make it go off."

Tony took a small step back, making room for the kid but keeping an eye on the weapon as Peter moved past him.

Once it was on the table and he was satisfied that it didn't look like it was going to blow up anytime soon, he felt the tension in his shoulders loosen. 

"Alright." Tony tore his eyes from the weapon. It was fine. Nothing bad had happened. They were fine. Peter was fine. "Alright, I'm going to get a few tools."

He paused, giving Peter a pointed stare. "Do not touch that thing while I'm gone."

"Yeah, mom." The kid snarked back. "I'll be fine, don't worry. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Famous last words," Tony grumbled under his breath, stalking away and passing Dum-E on the way. He pointed a stern finger at the bot, who had for the past hour been trying to find the screwdriver that Tony 'lost', and asked the bot to find. "Don't let the kid get into any trouble, you hear? If he does, I'll be donating your parts to MIT."

The bot whirled at that and Tony shook his head. However, he'd barely taken another step when it all happened at once.

He felt the blast of heat hit his back before even hearing it. He was blown forwards, his insides feeling as if they were ricocheting against his skeleton as he hit the ground.

And just like that, as quickly as it had started, it was over.

Everything was silent as Tony pushed himself up, having been blown forward hard enough to have lost his balance in chaos.

It was quiet. Way too quiet. Even straining past his ringing ears, Tony couldn't hear anything. All he could hear was his thundering heart beating against his chest.

Oh God. Peter.

"Kid!"

Tony scrambled to his feet, whirling around to where the kid was, his heart in his throat at the cloud of smoke covering the whole lab.

"Pete!" He ran, a million possibilities running through his head. Distantly, he heard the lab sprinklers turn on but paid little to no attention to them. "Buddy, you there?"

He didn't get any reply and Tony was almost scared as he came to a stop where the kid should've been. Where he left him with that damn weapon. He should've known better, shouldn't have turned his back and now Peter was -

That was when Tony heard it. The smallest of coughes but it was enough to jumpstart his heart faster than a V8 roaring to life, but something stopped him from running forward.

Terror gripped Tony so that he stayed rooted in place as it overwhelmed him. Fearing that he'd just heard the kid's final breathes. 

"Kid?" Tony took a hesitant step forward, almost too scared to peer through the smoke and - 

He blinked once. Twice. And then a few more times because there wasn't the burnt-to-a-crisp corpse or pile of ash that he'd conjured up from the darkest depths of his worst fears. 

No, no, no. It wasn't that but rather, there was a baby.

A baby, who barely reached to Tony's knee and was waist deep in the Spider-Man suit with hair soaking wet from the sprinklers. It was rubbing its eyes, letting out the smallest of coughs and whinning, its little chest heaving with the action.

Tony stared. He was a genius. He could put two and two, together. Heck, he could do even more than that.

That didn't stop him from freaking the fuck out. 

This had to be some sick part of his imagination or he'd finally gone crazy from the blast hitting the back of his head too hard. Because there was no way that this was possible. 

Still, Tony swallowed and opened his mouth. "Kid?" 

If it wasn't possible for Tony's heart to beat faster than it had before, it certainly was now. The baby tensed at Tony's voice, its head turning up to him, blinking up at him with those oh-so-familiar brown eyes. "Mr. St'k?"

It was muffled, choppy, and barely coherent but it was enough. The final nail in the coffin. It confirmed everything. Any sliver of hope that Tony had that the baby in the middle of his lab wasn't who he thought it was, vanished with that single word.

"Oh God." Tony stumbled back, gripping onto the table nearest to him to stop his legs from giving out from under him.

He stared at the very small and fragile baby a few feet in front of him while his heart throbbed in his chest. It felt ready to jump out from his throat and throw itself out of the nearest emergency exit. 

"Shit, Pete." Tony closed his eyes and shook his head, letting out a small giddy laugh that felt as if it quaked his heart with it. "You're a baby."

And May is going to kill me. 

#irondad and spiderson #Exchange Gift Fic #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #spiderson #ao3

[clarktooncrossing]

Giraffe's Eye View: Christmas Specials Special (2023) | Care Bears Nutcracker

Chestnuts are roasting on an open fire. Jack Frost is nipping at your nose. Mom and dad can hardly wait for school to start again. All the dogs in the neighborhood somehow learned to bark Jingle Bells in sync. Yet retail workers are still more annoyed with Mariah Carey. Snow is getting shoveled, tossed, and formed into sentient beings leading parades without permits. It makes for an excellent distraction as the Krampus abducts children for bad behavior. Fruitcake is exchanged only to find its permanent home in the garbage. Terrorists have hijacked the Holiday office party right before your boss can give you a Jelly of the Month Club membership as your bonus. And of course, the Turducken has returned to wreak its fiery vengeance upon an unsuspecting world! If all this doesn’t put you in the Christmas spirit, perhaps these following Holiday specials will!

Greetings people of today and robots of tomorrow! It is I, Santa Clark, your geeky giraffe friend with a deep love of Christmas! My obsession for the yuletide is rivaled only by Maleficent’s hatred for it, which is saying a lot considering she once teamed up with Mad Madam Mim to kidnap the literal Spirit of Christmas. Yes, that really happened. I know this due to my annual pilgrimage to the Island of Misfit Specials, home to obscure or nerdy festive media ranging from movies, TV episodes, and comics. It’s no easy journey. Constantly I find myself confronted by sinister snowmen, genocidal gingerbread men, and worst of all, crappy commercials. Getting stabbed in the foot by a candy-cane wielding cookie is one thing, but I swear I’ve seen that ad for Wilbur’s White Elephant Gift Emporium more times than I’ve seen Miracle on 34th Street! Sometimes at night I catch myself reciting that jingle. Wilbur’s White Elephant Gift Emporium: Where Christmas meets Convenience! Huh, maybe Maleficent had a point.

Nah, my deep-rooted appreciation for this time of year can weather even the most moronic marketing! It helps that most of the merry media I’ve seen have put me in the perfect Holiday mood! Examples include the time a Ninja Turtle found himself trapped in a truck full of stollen toys, a drunk department store Santa stumbling onto a wish-granting magic bag, Big Bird nearly becoming a popsicle, Gwenpool waking up in a world where Galactus took the place of jolly ol’ Saint Nicholas, a terrifying tree stump trying to slaughter some saps over a stupid ship war, and the year when Death gave the Little Match Girl the greatest gift of all. Needless to say, I thought I had seen it all. That is, until I took my friends on a trip to the Island, tasking them to find me new, strange, seasonal specials to review! Some of them were fair, finding me festive favorites as comforting as coco in front of the fireplace. Others were fiendish, wanting to feed off my misery like Gremlins after midnight. Regardless of how naughty or nice my companions were, I’ve compiled all of their suggestions into a makeshift advent calendar! So stay tuned everyday until Christmas to see how badly my buddies can shred what little sanity I have left.

On the second day of Christmas, my buddies gave to me...

For the record, it says something when nobody's even made a GIF for what I'm about to review.

Malicious as Molly was, she may have set the bar too high with Barbie. For along comes the fairy Claire (YourClairyGodmother), set on proving that the ‘all Canadians are friendly’ claim is a myth. Having recently reviewed a slew of their work herself, she saw fit to share her suffering with me by burdening me with a Care Bears Christmas caper of my choice. Oh how nice, my executioner allowed me to pick how I get to die! Mirroring Grumpy Bear’s dour attitude, I scoured the Care Bears Wiki to make my selection, all the while wondering how this franchise is still alive after all this time. Starting out in 1981 as greeting card characters, these bears became a beloved series of plush toys parents killed each other over at Black Friday’s. Not gonna lie, having Sinbad and Arnie fight over Funshine Bear would’ve made Jingle all the Way that much funnier. It’d certainly be more entertaining then what I ended up picking, that being Care Bears Nutcracker Suite. Dear Santa, I don’t remember asking for endless torment. At this rate getting my nuts cracked probably wouldn’t be as excruciating. Still, perhaps I’m being pessimistic. Let’s give them the benefit of the doubt and jump right in! After all, these bears beat out Black Cauldron at the box office. Surely they have something special to offer here.

Like terrible child voice actors. We’ve got those in spades here! Okay, I know it’s not nice to call out kids who are only here because of parental peer pressure, but A Charlie Brown Christmas set the bar so high two decades prior! Though to be fair, maybe this is like Hayden Christensen regaling Padme about sand. You can only do so much when the script serves you verbal fruitcake on a platter. Such as when one of the kids, tricked into portraying the Rat King in an elementary production of the ballet by his sister, rightfully laments how lame the show is. Seeing one of her students complaining, our blonde ballet instructor halts class in order to tell a self-insert fanfiction where she herself is Clara. Whoa, deja vuh.

For all of you fearful that this is going to get repetitive, put your worries at ease. The writers made no effort to make the narrative comprehensive here. Instead of a mysterious family member, our Young Clara stand-in Anna (Tara Strong) is visited by Funshine Bear (Susan Roman) and Grumpy (Bob Dermer). Right as they tumble down the chimney ready to help this privileged dork with whatever first world problem she has, a dimensional rift abruptly appears in her room, dropping out the titular Nutcracker (Michael Beattie) and an army of rats. Sadly this time they’re not led by Tim Curry and they’re even less intimidating than before. Whereas previously they at least had swords, now they rush forward into battle with nothing but the clothes on their back. As if that wasn’t idiotic enough, they’re easily frightened off by the two bears and Anna’s younger brother Peter (Stuart Stone) in a trench coat. Wow, I was wondering how they’d top the Mouse King getting taken out by a shrunken woman’s flimsy footwear. You fail at failing to disappoint, Care Bears. Good to know I don’t need to take any of the villains seriously. By chance is it too late to bring back that creepy book lady from the movie? She’d be a better foe than the Vizier (Don Francks), a Jafar wannabe decked out in purple that commands the cowardly vermin. He’s after the Nutcracker so he can, you guessed it, take over the world and ruin Christmas. How he’d ruin Christmas is never explained, though I doubt whatever logic they presented would’ve made sense anyway.

Regardless of the reason, our heroes elect to help Nutcracker in his quest to stop the Vizier, enlisting some Care Bears Cousins to help. Though really I assume it’s to expose kids to more toys they can buy, since Funshine and Grumpy managed to make an entire armada run away in fear. Why else bring in Brave Heart Lion (Dan Hennessey) or Lotsa Heart Elephant (Luba Goy) if not for promotional purposes? Remember kiddies, pester your parents into buying these new friends or else you’ll be a sad loser! Together with Baby Tugs (Melleny Brown) and Hugs (Tracey Moore), they leap into the dimensional portal to restore order to Toyland. Along the way they encounter a bunch of cranky citizens blaming the Vizier’s rise to power on a prince named Alan. Whoa, deja vuh times two. Before anybody asks, yes, once again the Nutcracker is clearly the missing monarch. The rest of our heroes only find out after battling more rodents on a runaway train, meeting a magical fairy that’s as useless as the owl, and getting turned into wood by the Vizier. Our story ends with the titular toy’s humanity easily being restored, the villains being beheaded for war crimes, and the ballet class from earlier never really putting on their pageant as their teacher Anna walks off with her boi toi. Whoa, deja vuh times three. All while the Care Bears watch on from the raptors, waiting to pick the kids off one by one for sport.

Do I even have to say it? Honestly, what point is there in me picking out the flaws? It’d be like stating how pretty Christmas lights are, there’s no purpose in proclaiming something so patent. For the sake of keeping you all from searching up this sugary-coated crap though, I’ll list off my reasons. The pacing was painfully slow, making this extended episode feel like the director’s cut of a Peter Jackson movie. Replacing the charismatic, complex characters of those works are cardboard cutouts who are criminally one-dimensional. Even Grumpy, who I maintain is the best character in this series, feels so one-note. Worst of all is the animation. Much as I dogged out Barbie Nutcracker, I can applaud the ambition on display. Somebody clearly put some effort into the final product. At no time did I feel the same could be said for this. This was some paycheck for an animator who clearly wanted nothing to do with these blasted bears. And if all the behind the scenes stories Claire told me are any indication, I might not be too far off. Needless to say, I did not care for this special. I also didn’t care for you suggesting it to me, Claire! So when Seerius dumps something rotten into your stocking, just know that’s from me! For now though, I need a better Holiday special featuring a character voiced by Tara Strong. 

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#clarktooncrossing #Christmas #Christmas 2023 #Christmas review #Christmas Specials Special #Christmas specials #Christmas specials review #tv review #Care Bears #Grumpy Bear #Funshine Bear #Care Bears Nutcracker #Nutcracker #Nutcracker sucks #ballet #Tara Strong #Your Clairy Godmother #Seerius #dragon #cartoon review #geeky giraffe #giraffe #Giraffe's Eye View

[sunwarmed-ash]

🤗

11, 14, 43, 59

(Oh! Asking about your favorite position - how naughty of me 😳😆)

😈🥵😏😏😏

11. Do you write scenes in order or do you jump around?

A little of both! But mostly jump around. Usually the rest of the details of the story works its way out that way too!

14. Whats your favorite location and position to sit in when you write?

Position to write in?!?! Are there other positions other than sitting?! Hahahaha I sit cross legged in a crooked ass desk chair\set up in my basement hahahaha but I really enjoy writing in an all windows room during a rainstorm 😍😍😍😍

Now if we're talking about positions for other things..... Def from behind ✌

43. Trope or idea you want to write but haven't?

Lots haha but I really wanna write a good vampire fic, and probs a polycule a\b\o

59. Have you participated in any fic events?

Yes!! I did a couple of stony and starker gift exhanges and I think I did a harringrove one too, let me go check ao3

...

Alright I did three for the starker gift exchange

Pandoras box: bdsm club

Tony stark: billionaire, playboy, philanthaptist, daddy

and its sequel

Peter Parker: Student, friendly neighborhood spiderman, Daddy's boy

I also did a Harringrove gift exchange

Kitten-modern day au, bdsm, dif first meeting

A thorki secret santa

merry christmas my sun

And a stony secret santa

Restrain me

#find me on ao3 #sunwarmed ash #max answers #ash answers #thanks for the asks!!!! #stony #thorki #harringrove #starker