#(and she dumped Warren. Well done

[carrie-tate]

I watched the musical Legally Blonde.

#AND HELL I'M LOVE!!! #Choreography #songs #AMAZING STORY! #Elle and Emmett are so adorable at the end! #Can we talk about Elle having such amazing character growth? #all the characters are so thought out and in generally get their height! #I love Vivienne and how she was able to admit her mistake and end up siding with Elle #(and she dumped Warren. Well done #he was an idiot. Still a good character though. Just an idiot. I can in a good way #I guess.) And Paulette #her story is just…God I'm happy for her and Kyle! #and also Emmet #my god I'm so in love with this character #and although it was obvious how #I saw him and Elle in the same frame and just They will be together and they are together!! But it's cool! #the only sad thing. WHERE IS ALL THE TICKLE CONTENT?! There's so much potential there #Elle and Emmett in particular… I really need it x'> #talk

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Excitable Boy

Prompt Day 19: Enemies to Lovers | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: 18+ Only, Horror Genre, Violence, Murder, Assault (not Steddie), Mental Disorders, Biting, Choking | Tags: Murder Boyfriends, Dark AU, Outdated Terms, Rough Sex, Unsafe Sex, Dub-Con (Consensual, But Not Negotiated), Steve POV, Obviously Out of Character, Unhealthy...Everything, Happy Ending? (I mean, they're both happy. The world at large? Maybe not.)

This is dark. Dead dove, do not eat. Meaning, it's exactly what's written in the tags. What if Steve had an antisocial personality disorder, and the only thing his parents did was throw money at it to clean up his messes? Maybe this.

Listen to the song Excitable Boy by Warren Zevon if you're unfamiliar. Don’t let the jaunty tune fool you, but you'll get an idea of what this is. It was in inspiration for this ficlet:

Don't like the idea of that? Definitely don't read this. Thanks!

Steve can get away with anything. He knows it. They know it. 

Excitable boy, they all said.

He sits alone in his car, watching, waiting. A shadow, a ghost drifting in and out. Flickering in the dark. He strikes his lighter. Once, twice, watching the flame burn and extinguish itself. Over and over again. He sees everything in the dark. He's good at it now. He's graduated to this, escalated.

From biting to fire to small animals. Now, ready for more. 

He's ready. 

She runs from him, and he catches up and wraps his hands around her throat. He squeezes and squeezes and squeezes. She struggles. Clawing at his arms, trying to make him let go. He won't. He won't. 

Eventually, she goes slack. 

And then he lets go. She drops like a stone at his feet. 

But later, she stirs. He didn't squeeze long enough. 

He'll do better next time. 

He runs. 

He lures another girl away from a college party. It's easy. Girls will follow him anywhere. He knows what to do, what to say. His well-practiced Harrington Charm.

She's willing to go with him. Willing to get undressed in the backseat of his car. They always are. But he doesn't want willing, so he wraps his hands around her neck. She's confused, thinks he's playing.

He's not. 

He doesn't know how. 

When he takes her home, he dumps her body on the porch.

 

It doesn't take long to come for him, he didn't hide what he'd done, and they find him unfit to stand trial. Shipping him off to a home for the mentally disturbed.

They hand him a stack of bedding. Scratchy wool blanket, one top sheet, no pillowcase. It's fine. He doesn't care. It doesn't matter. Nothing does. He wanders around the common room. He won't make friends, he never does. He can pretend, if he needs to, but he can't imagine needing that song and dance here. 

Someone does catch his eye, though. 

There's a long-haired boy at the table in the common room playing cards by himself. 

Flip, slap. 

Steve hates him, hates the sound.

This boy is death, Steve's sure of it. Like sees like. He's the flame, and Steve's the moth. He circles the room slowly, stalking him, eyes unblinking. 

Watching. Studying. 

Fantasizing about what he could do to him. How he could make him hurt. Make him scream. 

They put him in an asylum. No prison time. His parents' money bought that. If you have money, you can do whatever you want. Anything at all.

And here he is, with others, just like him. He hates it. Hates the boy. Wonders if he is better at it, or worse. Maybe worse. He was caught first, after all. 

Steve waits. Stalks him and watches.

And when the time is finally right, Steve corners him in a dark hallway in the middle of the night. Neither should be out of bed. It's against the rules. Steve's never much cared for rules. They don't apply to him. He learned that at a young age.

He's just an excitable boy, they all said.

"I could kill you," Steve says, low. A threat. Cornering the boy, pinning him so he can't run. There'll be no running, not today. Staring into his big, dark eyes. 

"Well, you could try," the boy says lazily, leaning closer, unafraid, showing all his teeth. Steve hates him. He wants to be feared. Now that he's not hiding what he is, down deep. 

He's been caught. Caged. 

And this boy is, too. But he isn't afraid of Steve, so Steve will have to fix that. 

"What's your name?" Steve asks.

"Eddie.”

Eddie. Eddie. Eddie. 

He hates Eddie. He closes his hand around Eddie's throat and squeezes. Eddie doesn't struggle. Steve hates him more. Steve likes the struggle. 

Eddie isn't giving him anything he likes. No fair. He'll kill him for it. 

Steve bites him on the shoulder and Eddie doesn't even flinch. Steve bites harder, through the cotton shirt Eddie's wearing and Eddie just laughs. 

Steve doesn't like to be laughed at. He lets go.

Eddie manhandles him into his bedroom. His cell. And pushes Steve onto the bare mattress. Nobody pushes Steve around. Except Eddie, now. 

Steve lifts his hips off the stained mattress and Eddie pulls down his cotton pants. The ones assigned to him. To all of them. With no drawstring, no shoelaces. No way to hang yourself. 

Eddie has a tub of Vaseline, and he scoops out two fingers full and Steve waits. Watches. Studies this foreign action. 

And then Eddie presses them into Steve, and it hurts. Steve likes it. It's new. Eddie tries to roll him onto his stomach, but Steve knows better than to turn his back on this boy. 

Eddie relents, slicks up his hard dick and presses inside. Rough, hard, fast. 

Steve loves it. Loves the burn, the friction. He's never felt anything during sex before. Nothing like this. He pushes back, giving, not just taking. 

Eddie pulls his hair, so Steve bites him. Again. And again. Everywhere he can reach. Drawing blood, while Eddie fucks him. Coming inside him with a groan. Then Eddie fists Steve’s dick, with only the grease from earlier lingering behind on his hand. It's rough. It hurts. Steve loves it. 

This is sex. He finally understands. 

The next day, Eddie is playing cards at the table again. 

Flip, slap. Flip, slap. Flip, slap. 

Steve likes the sound he's making now. It's obscene. It's sex. It's death.

He loves it. 

He loves Eddie. 

Like sees like. 

Eddie deals him in, and Steve sits. 

Steve develops a plan, will turn on the Harrington Charm with the staff. He knows how. Always has. He can pass as normal, as charming. They'll let their guard down, and once they trust him, he'll escape. 

He'll take Eddie, and they'll run. 

And his dad will send lawyers, guns and money. Will enable him, them, to do what they're meant to do, together. 

Notes: I shouldn't have started writing for a holiday challenge in October. The vibes are all wrong, lol, I'm on the wrong holiday.

Lawyers, Guns & Money is also a song on this Warren Zevon album. (Werewolves of London is also on it.) It's a 45 year old album these days!

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #enemies to lovers #dark fic #murder boyfriends #dead dove do not eat #read the tags #excitable boy they all said #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles #Spotify

[thewordsinthevoid]

Alright this is my THIRD time relistening to 5.1, lets dump ALL my thoughts then:

-first of all, one of the best opening story sequences. I love when unwell does this framing, and it is always well done. "We may be going home soon" is a line that disturbs the shit out of me, and once again unwell's sound design is absolutely incredible with all that the dogs do. I do also want to see silas get his teeth punched out.

-i could talk for hours about chester this episode. But i just want to say both the writing and pat kings performance were perfect for him. The way he aporoaches the house practicing what to say, and specifically stumbling through all their namea, then is immediately thrown off by the house being casual is so comedic and him. I really want to know how pat king manages to sound that pathetic, its amazing. Hes also amazing later in the episode where hes freaking out over norah and wes.

-"come in!" "Mrs. Harper? Its me? Chester Warren?" "What of me yelling come in didnt you understand?" The way the cast acts is so fhdjsjjdjdbsjs seeing dot tentatively accept chester is so nice, while she still keeps bullying him a bit throughout the episode. Its such a good dynamic on full display.

-abbie is a bastard. Its perfect.

-"lily-an"

-"i can eavesdrop from here!" "Tell him to speak up!" AND THEN CHESTER ACTUALLY TALKING LOUDER IS FHDJDKSKNFNDA. Once again character dynamics are shining this entire episode, and having chester play the straight man to their antics is a good role for him.

-"i dont know how to proceed!" Have you ever met a man so pathetic-

-chester is a 24/7 mental breakdown at this point. Yeah this is what i wanted from season 5.

-i should write a fic where chester reads rudys will and all that-

-When you arent exactly a found family because you fell apart and didnt know each other long enough but in the end your the only person left to stand over their body-

-Abbie getting their character development shown off this ENTIRE EPISODE we're so proud of them learning to handle their own emotions.

-also lily WES IS A KID TF ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT???? Like yeah hes a ghost but come on. Tinee.

-chester refusing to enter the house is such a good character detail. My guy needs help.

-and now we're at the norah scene where she needs SO MUCH THERAPY

-once again applause for the sound design making Norahs voice have an interesting echo that isnt distracting!

-dot immediately asking Norah to stay there in rudys room absolutely made me and my friend start screaming at her. Im glad it turned out well but we both kind of just had a spittake

-btw dot actually sticking to joking about norah being her daughter is cute and hilarious. Like yee girl you got found familied

-wes being the only one to grive the way chester knows how to handle is so fucking funny to me actually-

-now this is the point of the episode for me that i freak out for. Chester not remembering ghosts or wes. I have a lot of general thoughts about this episode regarding it and 4.12s status, but i will say this specific scene mightve been good to include at the start of the new season rather than the end of last because i genuinely dont remember if wes and chester know each other. Im sure they should, and im sure chester does know about ghosts, but its been months since i heard the last few episodes, so i start to question my own knowledge. Its so unsettling and uncomfortable and i think seems like a good point of tying an audience effect to the plot. Like, its good metatextualy. And if im completely wrong and chester wasnt meant to know these things then. Idk. Bully me in my askbox

-regardless, once again im applauding pat king for the best, most pathetic performance ive ever seen

-chester and abbie getting into a theological debate is the type of content i need while im being forced to take a terrible theology class

-the mugs as a joke in this episode are goddamn hilarious. Its also nice how they manage to make some history with it, despite the audience not seeing it, its more in the little things of dot and lily joing its bc "shes fancy" in such a way it feels like they both know the joke. Its nice. Also wes getting fenwood house!!!!

-the way they manage to audibly convey dot walking over, snatching the alcohol of chesters hand, and drowning it is fucking skillfull and hilarious

-lily and norah getting the final mourning scene broke me. Norah crying broke me. I have nothing really to say about that scene other than it was good and made me wanna cry.

-the rain beginning is terrifying me. I am so ready for this season i am so hyped.

-FINAL THOUGHTS:

- if i could start season 5 in any way, it would be like this. This is all i wanted and more. The character dynamics and cast performances that (for me) are the pinnacle of unwell are on full display, its acknowledging a life changing event from the last season, and everything that happens in the episode is incredibly gripping on a character level

-the episode i think masterfully balances both a tone of mourning and humor, often getting into some darkly humorous places, and seems to be a concerted effort by the entire team to balance it. The writing, acting, design, all really make this tone work.

-can i keep mentioning the acting? The actors are incredible

-i get the feeling this might be chesters last appearance. I dont want it to be, but this feels like it could also be a send off to his character, and i wouldnt blame the writers if they did so, just so they had a smaller cast to focus on in the finale. I hope chester returns though, hes somehow become a bright spot in the show for me, and i blame his actor

-im also very concerned for what will happen to lily this season. Shes definitely struggling a lot with guilt, and i dont think shes going to be making the best choices. Regardless, i love her and norahs friendship, and she and chester also got a weird friendship that i think should lead the two to try to kill silas together.

-for my final thoughts, i deleted what i wrote about this and 4.12, but to summarize, i just hope the writers didnt feel pressured to write this episode, but that this episode serves as a good leadin to the rest of the season.

-i loved this episode, and it has already become one of my favorite. Unwell season 5 is delivering!

#unwell podcast #unwell a midwestern gothic mystery #my thoughts on this episode can honestly be summarized by me jumping up and down on my bed screaming

[starlingsrps]

every heartbeat stinging

danny bangs into the barn half an hour late for afternoon chores. his book bag slams into the side of jack’s head, pissing him off just a little bit more. he’s already gotten stuck starting his share of the milking and now the little shit is trying to knock him out.

“hey, you little asshole-“

“yeah, yeah, yeah.” danny rolls his eyes and dumps an envelope in jack’s lap. “letter for you, dickwad.”

jack is about to tell him where he can shove the mail when he sees the return address - the draft board. “fuck.”

will, ten years old with an ear for any curse word not in the bible (currently the only remaining rule regarding language in the warren household), looks over with thinly veiled interest. when his older brothers start exchanging insults, the ears that can’t hear when he’s being told to do something or pick up his shit suddenly can hear a pin drop.

“dan, do your work.” jack stands and shoves his brother down on the milking stool that he should have had his ass parked on already. the letter is crumpling in his grip before he shoves it in his jacket pocket. he doesn’t hear danny bitching as he leaves the barn and steps out into a frigid march day, fingers fumbling on his lighter as he walks. he’s been trying to cut back, smoke only in the mornings and after the day is done but since this probably isn’t a chatty little letter to catch up and see how the family is doing, he figures this doesn’t count.

he leans against the barn with a cigarette in his teeth and tears it open, forcing himself to read it slowly. he doesn’t want to see the words more than he has to. as expected, his number is up. he has another month to report to fort mccoy.

he crumples it in his pocket and starts walking, as he always does when he’s upset. the land usually calms him down - there’s a certainty to knowing that this is his land (or will be), that this is where he belongs. he walks the pastures for awhile, thinking and also trying to not think at all if he can help it. it comes down to two very opposite, very true things - he’ll be fucked if he stays and fucked if he goes. 

the ghost of ken walks with him. jack and bob are closer in age but he had always been closer to kenny. dan reminds him a lot of him - same smartass mouth that he can barely back up, same good, clumsy heart. bob had enlisted first, jack had decided that he’d go when called, ken had gone to the marine recruiter in madison on his eighteenth birthday. ken had been their bulldog and the marines felt right for him. they gave him shit for getting sent to the pacific, for taking the easy way and spending the war lounging under a palm tree with a coconut and a topless island babe.

ken was gone. they’d had a funeral for an empty box in november, the ground too hard already to bury it and his body lost somewhere on a goddamn island their mother can’t pronounce but he’d still gone and was now a permanent ache in his chest.

his hands are numb and the sun is starting to set when he turns for home. his steps slow as he realizes he’ll be talking about this with evie. he has friends who tell their wives and would never dream of talking things out but he can’t imagine his wife taking that particularly well. they figure everything out together. that’s just how it is. it doesn’t mean he’s less anxious about how she’ll take it by any means but at least it would be like an echo in his head once she knows.

she’s in the kitchen finishing supper when he gets in, molly perched in her cot. she crows when she sees him and while today has taken a hard, ugly turn, he’ll never not smile when he hears that sound. it’s somewhere between a joyful bird and witch’s cackle. he bends to kiss her on top of the head. she has evie’s bright hair and his unruly forehead curl and a strong grip when she reaches to bat him on the nose. he can’t go to war. if he doesn’t hear that cackle every day, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. 

evie kisses him on the cheek when he’s scrubbing his hands in the sink. dinner in ten, she says, if he wants a quick shower. he probably needs one, if she’s just saying. when he finishes drying and turns around, she’s standing in an old cardigan of his with her hair tied back. she looks the same as she does every day but he’s overwhelmed by how much he loves her. she’s been his life since they were kids and no, he can’t leave. he catches her face in his hands and kisses her.

“you okay?” she asks, a furrow between her eyebrows. “you’re acting weird.”

“sure.” he kisses her again. “long day. be right back.”

he doesn’t remember what they eat, only that molly squawks along with evie as she tells him about their day, like she’s telling him at the same time. the rest of the night is quiet - he does the dishes while evie puts molly to bed, they listen to the radio and he dozes off while she reads her book. the draft notice throbs in the back of his head the whole time, reminding him of that stupid story he’d read in high school with the heart in the floorboards and the idiot who had put it there.

evie is merciful enough to let him sit with it until they’re laying in bed with the lights off. she’s quiet enough that he thought she fell asleep so when she does speak, it startles him a little. “are you going to tell me what’s bugging you or do i have to guess?”

he sighs. no more hiding it. “my notice came today.”

he hears her breath catch in the darkness. “oh.”

“yeah.” he can’t think of anything else to say. he’s been trying since he opened the envelope and this is as far as he got.

she stretches to turn on the lamp and turns back to face him, her hair falling around her.  “you’re going to go.” she doesn’t ask it, she says it. 

he turns to his side to face her, reaching out to rest his hand on her hip. “i don’t have to,” he says slowly. “ag deferment, right?

“but you aren’t going to.” she smiles but it’s flat and sad. “right?”

“i’m thinking about it.”

she shakes her head. “you’re not.”

“i-“ 

“jack, it’s me. don’t tell me what you think i want to hear.” she rests her hand on top of his. “just talk.”

“it doesn’t feel right. i…i feel like i owe it to kenny.”

“it won’t bring him back, baby.”

the tears prick at the back of his eyes. “i know. i don’t want to leave.” he lifts her hand to kiss her palm, folds her fingers around it. “you know i don’t.”

“but you can’t stay.”

he’s young and he’s strong and he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he stayed. “i can’t.”

she just looks at him for what could be ten seconds or could be ten minutes and he wants to know what she’s thinking and desperately doesn’t. he’s never not known evie to be honest to a fault. it’s his favorite and least favorite thing about her. “i’ve got your back, whatever you decide,” she says finally. “but i think you already have.”

he nods.

“we’ll be fine. we’ve got too many warrens to fail.” 

“mom won’t let you.”

“and maybe it’ll be over tomorrow.”

“that’d be nice.”

“so go if that’s what you need to do and we’ll be here. just come home."

#type: writing #s: jack x evie #verse: at the end of the world #i KNEW i forgot to transfer something here!!!!

[xprojectrpg]

Moment of Awesome - Bobbi Morse/Mockingbird:Warren is ready to take the plunge and get married. Too bad he didn't tell Bobbi before he started planning.

"...who's getting married again? Do we have a gift for them yet? Or wait, you were gonna let me do it, right? God, Warren, I don't even know who to shop for, seriously..." she sighed, finally getting the last earring in and turning to cross her arms and scowl at him. But, like almost every single time she ever got mad at him, it dissipated almost as quickly. Doing a little twirl, she held her arms out. "How do I look?"

"Like you," he responded, grinning back at her. Didn't matter how many times he looked at her, he would always find her beautiful and desirable. "So hot as fuck, obviously." He tapped his fingers against his phone for a moment before standing up and slipping it into his pocket. He was already dressed in a casual Prada suit but decided to forgo the jacket. It was hot enough with the harness and he didn't want to bother with a jacket. People were used to his 'physical deformity' anyways, and he realized that he was done caring what others thought... which of itself was strange.

"And we're getting married. Did you forget what that ring on your finger means? Marie found a few wedding planners that she thinks you'd like, but you have the final say of course. I liked the one with the ridiculous name ... Paisley? Burberry? Something fabric-y anyways. She seems the most efficient with a limitless budget."

"Right answer," she said, pointing at him and winking. Bobbi headed toward a huge walk-in closet by the front entrance where she usually dumped her purses, amongst many other things, and found one that matched her outfit. She slowed her steps as she exited because, no, she hadn't heard him correctly. She couldn't have, because...

"...are you fucking kidding me?" she asked when she was finally able to speak again. "I mean, I know what this means," Bobbi said, holding her left hand up and out, the light bouncing off the gigantic rock on her engagement ring nearly blinding them both. "But I've had it for, what, how many years now? And you've never actually talked about following through with it, but now you've decided that's what you want?" The pitch of her voice raised higher and higher to dangerous levels every few syllables and she shook her left hand for emphasis as well.

"And you have Marie e-mail me about it? SERIOUSLY?!" That part had escaped her for a moment but once she recalled it her voice reached its crescendo and she threw her purse at him from across the room.

Only years of experience had Warren expertly dodging the purse. The same amount of experience also finally kicked in and he realized that he probably went around this the wrong way. "First of, your pitch is going to break the glass and I don't feel like getting that replaced tonight, and secondly... I can see why you're upset but babe, come on -- we've been engaged forever because I thought you were waiting for me to finally be able to say the words 'I do' without choking and I think I finally can. Isn't that what you wanted?"

He gave a tentative smile. "I can finally promise you that I will forever follow your rules and be open and honest and continue doing what we do because we're awesome. Shouldn't you be happier right now?"

He was wisely going to ignore the Marie thing.

While Warren was certainly very agile, Bobbi was totally going to attribute that miss to her rage and not to any skill on his part whatsoever. She clenched her hands into tightly balled fists and cracked her knuckles, and was preeeetty sure one of her eyes was twitching now. Just a smidgeon.

"You can -" she started, then shook her head and actually laughed. Not a mirthful, delightful chuckle, but a cackle, a bark. "You can see why I'm 'upset,' you say? Is that the word you landed on there, Warren, on 'upset?' Didn't think 'miffed,'" she said, plucking out one earring, "or 'annoyed,'" then out came the other, "would be quiiiite enough, so you went all the way up to 'upset?'" she asked, arms waving in the air with each new word. "Did you consider, oh, I dunno, how about fucking FURIOUS?!" she screamed, kicking her heels off and into the closet with a BANG THUMP as they hit the wall.

"You know what, I... I can't. I cannot, not right now," she said, volume returning to somewhat normal, the removal of the heels almost indicative of her deflating and shrinking back down in the face of this news. "I..." Bobbi's mouth hung agape for another beat before she shook her head and went back into the bedroom, door slamming shut behind her.

Even the dog looked unimpressed with him right now. Ka-Zar gave him the haughtiest look before sauntering off to his plush dog bed, relaxing down with a little boof and continuing to glare at him. Warren didn't even know dogs could glare.

#moment of awesome #mockingbird #angel #plots #plot #xprpg #xproject #rpg #rp #phase 2

[jsbsam]

Off with a bang!

Thursday 16th November

We got an early taxi to Sucre bus station and caught the 7am local bus to Potosi. It was a rickety old bus that had obviously done plenty of miles. The 3.5hr trip took us through and over the mountains on very windy roads, or tracks. The good thing about doing these bus trips is that you see a lot more of the country than just hopping from one city to another by air. I have to say that the life of a rural Bolivian looks tough. The houses are barely shacks and the land doesn't look as though it yields much. I have no idea how they scrape a living.

If Sucre was lovely, the first sightings of Potosi were more than disappointing, as were the 2nd, 3rd and 4th. In fact, every sighting just confirmed what a dump Potosi is! It is a proper industrial city of c280k inhabitants at 4090m that is dominated by the silver mines that eat into its' mountain, Cerro Rico (Rich Mountain) like a rabbit warren. The silver mined here was shipped back to Spain in astonishing quantities and at great cost to the lives of black and indigenous slaves. Even now, the mining methods are rudimentary and more than 300 lives are lost every year, mostly to carbon monoxide poisoning.

I had booked a trip to the silver mine for myself and MM but since booking several people had mentioned that the mountain is now like a swiss cheese with unchartered tunnels running everywhere. This was corroborated by Unesco who have decreed that mining must stop by 2035 because the mountain is slowly falling in on itself and will eventually implode and disappear if mining continues. Furthermore, the shafts and tunnels are extremely narrow requiring the miners (and visitors) to crawl on their bellies or slide on their backs with barely 6 inches of clearance - not good for anyone with claustrophobia like me.

Having considered the advice and my claustrophobia I decided that I would not descend into the tunnels. What about MM you might ask. Well, you know MM - never one to listen to advice, or anything else for that matter! Not only did she decide to go into the tunnels for 2.5hrs, when she discovered that you should take presents in for the miners she had a field day. The life expectancy of these miners is 45. The dust ruins their lungs and the 98% proof alcohol they drink to help their throats ruins their livers. The guides suggest that you take them water, pop, coco leaves, 98% alcohol or dynamite! Many of you will have been terrified by talking to MM in the kitchen when she has a knife in her hand. I keep well out of the way. The level of fear went up a notch when we visited the Cu Chi tunnels in Vietnam and she got her hands on an AK47 with 10 live rounds. However, imagine how I felt when she waltzed out of the shop and said "I've got a stick of dynamite, a roll of gelignite, a detonator and a fuse wire in this bag and it only cost me 30 boly thingamy's (£3.56)".

I was glad that I wasn't going with her, all I could hear coming out of the mountain for the next couple of hours was "not now MM"!

Somehow, she and her little band survived the experience, though I didn't get the impression that they'd enjoyed it very much. Very informative but very uncomfortable both physically and in understanding how these people live.

The more you travel, the more you appreciate how lucky we are to live in the UK and to have the lives we have.

[tmngoose]

It’s time to info dump Rikki junk. The timeline is a little discombobulated but whatever:

(TW for child/general abuse &murder/death)

Rikki’s family estate is located in the spirit world, which is accessible via portals in the hidden city and secret areas on the surface (Earth).

The former head of the house—her Grunkle Gef—left to tour the surface as his popularity among the humans as a beloved folklore cryptid gives him joy in his profession.

Rikki’s mother (name TBD) becomes head of the house. Unlike Gef, she takes things very seriously. She is far from nurturing. Similar to Big Mama, she is a yūrei who hides behind the guise of a beautiful lady only to hide her true form.

If anyone stepped out of line, they’d be punished: physically or mentally. (Rikki will tell you, “Open hand slaps were for little things. Backhands were for serious offenses. And if she put the rings on, you knew you were in trouble.”) ‘Naughty children’ were locked in a shed—the isolation shed.

Somehow Rikki survives childhood and recognizes the way her mother treats her cousins and siblings is… wrong. Past Rikki’s apathetic facade: she provides the emotional care to her younger siblings/cousins that her mother never did. It’s where her soft-spot for children comes from.

The family business lies in hauntings and other ghostly activities. Some of Rikki’s siblings become successful in the business world, providing haunting advice and lending their spooky talents. They attend prestigious colleges and start their own families because that’s what mother wants of them. To tarnish Grunkle Gef’s legacy would mean instant abandonment.

Rikki applies to Hidden City University and eats the rejection letter. She forges a fake acceptance letter and deceives her mother. Rikki attends Hidden City Community College and for the first time, interacts with other yōkai.

For the most part, things go swimmingly. Although Rikki’s quick to learn yūreis get a bad rep thanks to those who are malicious, greedy, and horrible. Afraid of being exposed and judged, Rikki hides her ghostly self from others.

After graduating, Rikki lies to her mother (again) about getting a job and won’t be returning home for a while. Her mother is pleased and tells Rikki not to tarnish their family’s reputation.

Rikki performs odd jobs around the Hidden City: part time gigs that help her get by. Anything is better than going home and dealing with her mother.

One night, a group of yōkai attempt to mug Rikki, who uses her yūrei powers to thwart their plans. Somehow, through flattery and promises of respect, Rikki joins their gang—one of the many criminal syndicates that operates under Big Mama. Thus begins her criminal record.

But as time passes, Rikki notices nobody respects her and stealing things loses its appeal when her boss stops praising her. It clicks: the desire to impress people like her boss and her mother, just for a shred of praise and affirmation.

Upon this epiphany, Rikki states her resignation from the gang. It does not bode well for Rikki, who is left for dead by her boss in an alley.

… and, Rikki does die. Well, her body/vessel dies. When yūreis in possession of a ‘living-vessel’ die, the ‘ectoplasm regeneration process’ (ERP!) kicks in. Ectoplasm from around the body slowly pours into the wound, regenerating the fatal damages until ‘brought back to life.’

It’s during ERP that one must ‘sit vigil’ with the body, since it’s at its most vulnerable. Sitting with the body speeds up the regeneration process: something about ‘knowing someone is waiting for them to come back’ encourages the ectoplasm to return to the body faster.

(It’s not the first time Rikki’s died, btw. Gang work is dangerous stuff and sometimes sacrificing Rikki’s life was a trade off to get the rest of the gang out of harm’s way.)

Well… nobody wants to deal with a yūrei, especially when sitting vigil entails sitting in a trash laden alleyway.

… but that’s where Rikki lucks out! Clem discovers Rikki and decides to sit vigil. It’s the first time anyone’s ever done so and Rikki gets very emotional.

With no place to go—wanted by the Hidden city Police, her old gang keen on rubbing her out if they crossed paths, and her mother’s fury/the strictness of the family estate—Clem offers Rikki a job on the surface, stating it’s not a bad place to start over.

And so, Rikki leaves both the Hidden City & the spirit world behind for NYC. She lives in Clem’s shop for a while. But life on the streets as a criminal in the Hidden City is hard to shake. Rikki tends to swipe things from Clem’s secret store room and sells them to shady mutants/yōkai for a little extra pocket cash.

Rikki eventually gets tired of living in the candy store and answers an ad for someone looking for a roommate.

It turns out to be Red Fox. They get along great. Rikki even takes the risk of telling Red she’s a yūrei and Red doesn’t bat an eye!

Acceptance? A stable work environment? It’s more likely than you think!

Through Clem, Rikki meets the members of the Evil League of Mutants. They’re cool with one another (except Warren) and even goes as far as adding them to her ‘clientele’ — passing them ‘the good stuff’ from Clem’s stock room for food, money, or anything useful (you know, the barter system).

Does Rikki miss the Hidden City? Yeah, sometimes. Does she miss home? No, not really—but she does miss her younger siblings/cousins and she does feel guilty about not being there to protect them from her mother. She worries particularly for her baby cousin, Civette, who relied on Rikki’s presence. She’d write to her but the mail gets screened by her mother’s servants; too risky.

There’s this constant dread floating around Rikki. She fears of her mother finding out about her criminal record & her lies. And since Clem has ties with Big Mama (at least in my head he does), the thought of her old gang finding her whereabouts or causing trouble.

But for now, she’s got a good thing going: she’s employed, she has a roof over her head, a really great roommate (👀), and friends! Friends who care about her! It’s easier not to think the consequences will never catch her when things are finally looking up.

#tmngoosepost #rottmnt oc rikki #rottmnt oc #tw abuse #tw death

[pterodactylterrace]

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 3

Chapter Summary: You’re late for tea

Rating: 18+ for later chapters

Warning: Possible swear words, dirty thoughts, nudity

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Friday had been a strange day for Faye.  First, Henry wasn't on set. It took an embarrassingly long time for her to remember being told he had a few days off of filming.

Then, Mrs. Anderson sent her a strange series of texts asking about him. Sure, Faye had mentioned him a few times. Also, Briar was constantly going on about the man with the fluffy dog, so it made some sort of sense that she would ask about him. Not to mention Mrs. Anderson was always trying to find her a 'nice young man' to settle down with, so fixating on the one man she had mentioned wasn't that odd in retrospect.

Then, as she was pulling her beat up car into her driveway, she noticed an unfamiliar, shiny vehicle already parked outside. Maybe that was the new car Mr. Anderson had been dying for? Why would he park at her house instead of in his own drive a few doors down, though? Was it a surprise for Mrs. Anderson?

Now, she was walking into her house only to be greeted by a very excited, very large fluffball at the door.

"Kal?" That was definitely Kal. He was the only black and white Akita she knew with the habit of knocking his rear into her leg for attention, although his getup was rather strange. Why was Henry's dog in her house, and why was he wearing fairy wings, her daughter's dress up fairy tutu and at least a dozen mardi gras necklaces? Also, the floppy sun hat on his head was a nice touch. He seemed to enjoy having it on as well. That, or it was tied on too well for him to get off.

The dog's attire should have prepared her for when she looked into the living room. There sat Mrs. Anderson, her sun hat on along with one of Briar's scarfs and glow in the dark glasses perched above her regular seeing glasses. Next to her was Briar, her full fairy princess costume on, complete with wings, crown and a scepter, pouring pretend tea into the strangest guest's cup.

There sat Henry Cavill, cross legged on her living room floor, tiny plastic tea cup in his massive hand. On his head was perched a plastic crown, a feather boa wrapped around his thick neck, and if the sparkles were anything to go by, Briar had attacked him with her glitter body spray.

"Mommy!" Briar gasped, dropping her plastic tea pot and racing over to her mother, wrapping her arms around her legs.

"Hi, sweetie. What's going on?" Faye asked cautiously.

"You're late for tea." Henry replied, taking a pretend sip from his cup.

"I hope it's alright, dear. You did say he was a friend, and Briar seemed so fond of his dog, I didn't have the heart to turn him away." Mrs. Anderson explained.

"Uhh... yeah, it's fine." Faye mumbled, still taking in the sight before her, Kal and Briar rejoining the tea party as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

"My mistake. I thought we agreed on Friday." Henry apologized, pushing himself up. "We've only been here a little while. We can leave if you'd like."

"Oh, no. That's ok." Faye assured, finally setting her bag down, hastily turning over her sketch pad on the entrance table. Some things weren't meant for anyone other herself to see.

"I'll just be heading off then, Miss Warren." Mrs. Anderson excused herself, taking off her borrowed accessories and gathering her things. "You all have fun."

"So, uhh... how... how long have you been here?" Faye asked once she closed the door behind the older woman, quickly scanning the room to make sure nothing difficult to explain was in plain sight.

"Not long." Henry assured, sitting back down at Briar's insistent tugging, folding his long muscular legs back up as he settled on the floor in front of the coffee table.

"More tea!" Briar demanded, holding the cup up to his mouth, prompting him to take another pretend sip.

"You make wonderful tea, miss." Henry complimented, Briar preening in response.

"Mommy, you want tea?" Briar asked, a wide yawn cracking her little face.

"I would love some, sweetheart, but it's time for your nap." Faye pointed out.

"No! I wanna play tea!" Briar whined, plopping back on her backside in a pout.

"Briar." Faye warned, raising a brow at her.

"But... but... tea party!" Briar insisted.

"We can play more tea party after your nap. You're getting grumpy."

"No I'm not!" Briar insisted, her chubby face drawn into a scowl.

"That was grump right there." Faye pointed out, gently scooping up her cranky daughter. "Now let's go lay you down for a nap, and then we can play more tea party when you wake up."

"I don't wanna nap!" Briar yawned, rubbing her hazel eyes in an attempt to stay awake.

"You need one."

"I don't wanna nap, I'm tired!"

"Sound logic, my love." Faye sighed, settling her daughter into her bed, tucking her in with her favorite stuffed unicorn. The little girl was asleep before Faye even reached the door, curled up around her stuffie with her little tush up in the air.

"Sorry you had to see that. She really hates going down for a nap when she's having fun."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to get her wound up." Henry apologized, removing the plastic crown from his head.

"Don't worry about it, she's just happy to have more guests at her tea party." Faye assured, picking up the plastic dishes and putting them back in the toy box.

"She was quite insistent we join, though I do think Kal enjoyed getting dressed up." Henry chuckled, beginning to remove the dog's costume.

"Good thing you agreed, otherwise you would have faced the wrath of Briar." Faye giggled, noticing the unicorn and rainbow stickers all over Henry's back.

"It was a pleasure attending her party. She is quite a wonderful host." Henry laughed, stowing the costumes back in the toy box. "Now, I do believe you requested help with a cake for our little party host."

"Yes, right this way." Faye waved, heading off to her tiny eat in kitchen. "What do we need?"

"Well... you have an oven, so that's a start. I brought the ingredients with me. Do you happen to have a cake pan?" Henry listed, opening the fridge and removing the bag he'd brought along.

"I have a glass baking pan." Faye offered.

"We will work with that." Henry agreed. "Now, measuring cups?"

"They are around here somewhere."

"Do you know how to use them?" Henry teased, setting the ingredients from the bag onto the counter.

"Vaguely. I just usually eyeball everything when I cook." Faye admitted.

"That won't work with baking. It's a science and the measurements have to be exact." Henry explained. "So, we'll start with the dry ingredients. Can you measure out two cups of flour?"

"I have no idea where the cup is. I have half a cup."

"Four of those, then." Henry absently mumbled, scanning over his mother's recipe card again. He glanced over to see her attacking the bag of flour with the measuring cup, wincing to himself as he watched. "Faye?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Forgive me for asking, but do you know how to measure flour?" Henry asked, cringing when she tried to smooth the top down with her hand, causing a flour explosion in her face.

"I'm guessing what I just did wasn't right."

"Not quite." Henry chuckled, stepping behind her, taking her hand in his and dumping the flour back into the bag. "You can use a spoon to sift it. Packed flour and unpacked flour are two totally different measurements." He explained, handing her a spoon and taking her other hand in his, showing her how to sift the flour into the measuring cup.

Faye tried to keep her cool and ignore the fact that Henry Cavill was pressed up behind her, holding her hands and showing her how to measure flour like it was the most natural thing in the world. Surely this was just some dream and if it was, no one had better wake her up.

"Got it?" Henry asked, turning his head to look at her, snapping her from her thoughts. Faye did her best not to stare at his lips, so close and yet so far away. She could just lean in...

"Yeah, got it." She quickly confirmed, forcing her attention back to the task at hand.

And so it went, Henry leading the way through the mysterious land of baking, Faye following blindly behind. He even let her lick the spoon when he was done with it, and he in no way stared in awe at the way her tongue moved around it. He was a gentleman, after all, and imagining what else that tongue could do would be highly inappropriate.

It wasn't until after the cake had been pulled from the oven to cool that Briar woke up, wandering into the kitchen with her now disheveled princess costume still on, her hair sticking out in strange angles as she rubbed her eyes.

"You're here!" Briar gasped, taking notice of the giant in the room and scurrying over to him, throwing her arms around his legs.

"Nice to know where I stand." Faye pouted as Henry scooped the girl up, her daughter not even glancing her way in favor of talking to Henry.

"Can we play dollies?" Briar asked, batting her thick dark lashes at him, her chubby lip sticking out in a pout.

"I've never played before, you'll have to show me how." Henry agreed, smiling down at the little girl held securely in his arm.

"Mommy, you look silly!" Briar giggled, finally looking over at her mother.

"That's not nice." Faye gently scolded.

"What on your face?" Briar asked.

"Mommy had an incident with the flour." Henry explained. Shit. Had she really spent the last hour, practically drooling over her guest with flour all over her face? She really should write a book on how to flirt. No doubt, it would be a best seller.

"I'm gonna go get cleaned up." Faye mumbled, her face heating up beneath the flour coating as she ducked her head and beelined down the hall.

"I'll be learning how to play dolls." Henry chuckled after her, carrying the toddler back to the living room so her mother could shower in peace.

Fifteen minutes later, Briar was still explaining the different names of her dolls and stuffed animals, piling each on top of Henry and resorting to stuffing them under Kal's paws when she ran out of room on her semi-willing captive. Faye cracked the bathroom door open and glanced to the living room to make sure her guest was thoroughly distracted before she slipped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around herself as she snuck down the hall to her bedroom, breathing a sigh of relief when she closed the door behind herself. She could almost convince herself he was interested in her with the couple times she'd caught him looking her way when he thought she wouldn't notice. No need to scare him off with her mom-bod now.

Sure, it hadn't been that hard on her figure. She wasn't left with the same saggy stomach her mother had after her pregnancies, but then again, her mother had carried two sets of twins almost to term. Talk about a superwoman. Though she did decide no more children after her younger brother and sister had been born.

"You keep giving me a two for one deal, I'm not doing this again!"

Good times. Good times. The wonders of having twins running strongly in your family. Faye had only given birth to one, but she still bore the stretch marks on her stomach and breasts, and the loose skin on her stomach had never really gone back to the way it was before.

Faye was shaken from her thoughts by her daughter's all too familiar exclamation coming from behind her. "Mommy, you're nakie!" She would never understand her daughter's near obsession with pointing out the fact that she was in fact, naked during and directly after showers, but it was without a doubt one of her favorite hobbies. Right behind tea parties if she had to guess.

"Wait, what? Oh!" That was not her daughter's voice. Faye's head snapped up to find Briar's chubby hand wrapped tightly around Henry's little finger, his other hand clapped firmly over his eyes. "I am so sorry! She wanted to get her stuffed dragon, I did not know this was your room!"

Faye snatched her towel off the bed and wrapped it around herself again, grabbing the dragon from the pillow and handing it off to Briar. The little girl happily took her dragon and led Henry back down the hall, not bothering with the door. The wonders of being young and innocent. She had no clue what she had just done.

Faye quickly shut the door herself, remembering to turn the lock this time, though it was a moot point by then. She threw on a tank top, leggings and her fluffy socks before forcing herself to venture back out. Henry was actually sitting on the couch this time, doing his best to focus on what the little girl was saying, though truth be told, his mind kept wandering back to the quick glimpse he had gotten of Faye's backside before he registered what was going on. It was even better than the glances he had gotten when she bent over in front of him to rummage through her make up bag. Nice and round, plump yet firm. The kind of ass you just want to squeeze as you're-

"So... " Faye started awkwardly, quickly breaking Henry out of his own head. "Lunch sound good?"

"Chocolate sandwiches!" Briar quickly suggested, hugging her stuffed bunny to her chest as she bounced around.

"It looks like I'm making chocolate sandwiches, though I could probably also manage a peanut butter and jelly."

"I wouldn't want to impose, though I did want to apologize again-"

"Accident's happen, but we are going to pretend that one didn't, ok?" Faye interjected. "So nutella or peanut butter and jelly?"

"Umm... either is fine."

"Briar, keep them company while mommy makes lunch, ok?" Faye suggested, going back to the kitchen before her false confidence faded. If he was on board with repressing and denying, so was she.

Now, only one questioned remained: Would Henry prefer his sandwiches cut into dinosaurs or puzzle pieces?

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x ofc #tea party #henry cavill fanfic #guys like you #guys like you fic #multi chapter

[clara-licht]

you are enough: first impression

Summary: She was just another face in the crowd, someone you wouldn’t look at twice. He never really noticed her. That is, until the fifth day.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k+

Warning: burst of anger? should that be a warning?

Timeline: Peter's first school year, pre-spider bite

Note: yay for first story! I wrote this under 3 hours from sudden burst of energy, so if you spot any mistake please let me know! This story is taken directly from my real experience on my fifth day of university. What happened then followed me even until now, but now my friends and I can look back on that day and laugh. Please tell me what you think about this 💜

Series Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

——————————

Peter first noticed her on the fifth day of his first school year. Well, actually everyone in his class noticed her on that fifth day.

He had seen her a few times in some of his classes that week, but he didn’t really pay attention to her. After all, she was just another classmate. She was also pretty quiet and kept to herself most of the time. He didn’t think he had even heard her speak before.

Always wearing an unzipped jacket over a shirt, pants, a pair of Converse, and with her red Kipling backpack. Sitting on the second row. Earphones are usually on in between classes. As far as Peter was concerned, she was just another face to forget.

Until that fifth day.

He had come into class almost late that morning. It was Friday and Fridays always felt so slow since it’s so close to the weekend. Peter admitted his almost tardiness was the result of being too lazy to wake up on time when all he could think of was having the weekend off after a week of school.

The only seat left was the one behind her, so he just took it. His best friend since childhood, Ned, wasn’t in that class, and he didn’t really know anyone else yet, so no one saved him a “usual spot”.

When the teacher came in, Peter was already prepared to pay attention, hoping that the day would go faster if he was busy.

“We’re going to do a group project starting next week. Each group will take turns presenting their assignment every week, so that’s one group per week.” The teacher, Mrs. Warren, said. “Let’s see… We have 24 people here, so split into 6 groups of 4. I’ll give you 10 minutes to assign your own groups now.”

The classroom immediately erupted into chatter while Mrs. Warren turned her attention to the computer screen on her desk.

Peter felt some kind of dread as his classmates started talking among each other on how to split the class. He had nothing against group projects, but he knew virtually no one in this class and would most probably be left out and joined the “leftovers”. He could only hope that whoever winded up in his group could pull their own weight instead of just dumping their work on others.

Therefore he was pleasantly surprised when the girl at the front seat (“I think her name is Sally?”) turned around and said, “Should we just use our current seating to split the group? That way it’s random and fair.”

There were a few hums of agreement.

The classroom they were in had 8 long desks, 4 on each side of the room, with 3 seats per desk. So taking that into account, the group should consist of one student per desk. Seeing as Peter was sitting right behind her, that meant they would be in the same group.

Peter looked at who would be in his group. Aside from her, there were Sally (“It is Sally, right? Right…?”) and behind him was a guy whose name he couldn’t really recall. (“It’s either Tyler or Abe, I think…?”) Peter could kind of remember them being active in other classes, so that was a sigh of relief for him.

Until another student piped up.

“I don’t want to be in this group!”

Peter glanced at that student. ‘Ah, this one I know,’ he thought with a slight eye roll.

Eugene Thompson, though he insisted to be called Flash. He’d been loud in every class they shared and bragged a lot. One of those rich kids, Peter assumed. Growing up in a modest household, bragging about money was never something he could understand. If you had enough money to brag about, then maybe use them for charities and stuff instead? At least that was Peter’s opinion.

“Then which group do you want to be, uhh, Thompson, was it?” Sally asked.

“Call me Flash,” he answered. “And I don’t know, I just don’t want to be in this group!”

“Why?”

“I just don’t like it.” Flash shrugged nonchalantly.

Peter could see Sally’s eye twitch in annoyance. “It’s just one assignment and you don’t really have a reason.” She tried to say.

“Why would I need a reason? Mrs. Warren said we can choose our own groups, and I don’t want to be in this one. I don’t vibe with it.”

Despite being annoyed himself, Peter decided to just sit back and watch everything unfold. He didn’t need to attract attention to himself. With his big glasses and frail figure, he looked very nerdy and jocks like Flash liked to pick on nerds. He didn’t need that.

The banter between Sally and Flash went on for a while. Peter was sure everyone in the class was pissed but no one said anything, probably because they didn’t know each other and didn’t want to say something wrong accidentally. It was getting very annoying, though. And to make it worse, Mrs. Warren didn’t seem to care.

While listening to Flash, he didn’t notice the girl sitting in front of him glaring heatedly at Flash with clenched fists and gritted teeth.

“I’m just saying, why can’t I-”

SMACK!

Flash’s words were interrupted by a sudden loud smacking noise, causing nearly everyone to flinch.

The girl in front of Peter had smacked her palm on her desk and stood up, pointedly glaring at Flash with a glare so intense it could probably burn him, clearly seething with anger.

“STOP MAKING EVERYTHING DIFFICULT, FOR GOD’S SAKE!” She yelled.

Peter blinked.

Did the quiet reserved girl just… yell?

“What do you think you’re doing, huh?!” She yelled again, this time coming closer to Flash. Flash gulped and took a step back. “You don’t even know anyone in this class! It’s only our FIRST WEEK!”

“But I-”

“ZIP IT!”

Flash shut his mouth so fast Peter could hear his teeth clacking.

“Our teacher is waiting for us right now! If you have any complaints about your group then speak up properly once you KNOW them! SO JUST GO WITH IT FOR NOW AND GET THIS DONE AND OVER WITH!”

The class was silent. She was still glaring at Flash and Flash was cowering in fear.

To be honest, Peter was afraid of her too, but deep inside he was impressed. When no one else spoke up, she did. Maybe with a bit of an overkill, but she still spoke for the rest of them. He’d take that.

“Any more complaints?” She asked through gritted teeth.

Flash quickly shook his head.

“Good.”

She sat back down and looked away as if nothing happened.

No one said anything for a while, still in a bit of a shock.

“Um, well…” Sally cleared her throat, “So are we decided then? With this arrangement?”

A chorus of yes later and Mrs. Warren finally spoke, “Give me your group lists later after class. I trust you can arrange it, Ms. Avril?”

Sally nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, let’s start our lesson for today.”

As Mrs. Warren started teaching, Peter couldn’t help but stare at the girl in front of him. This was the first time he actually looked at her.

The first thing he noticed, although it may sounded rude, was her… size, so to speak. She was considerably bigger than the rest of the girls in his class. She was clad in plain unisex clothes. From what he had seen earlier, he could find no trace of makeup on her either. She actually looked a little messy, not fitting into that traditional feminine look.

Not that Peter had anything against femininity or even not conforming to said femininity. He was raised by a respectful pair of husband and wife who drilled respect for diversity and people’s choices into him. Aunt May would also have his head if he had even the slightest misogynistic thought. No, he knew better than that.

Around ¾ into the lesson, Mrs. Warren told them to go into their groups and start discussing their projects.

“Let’s start with introduction, I guess?” Sally said once all four of them were together. “I’m Sally Avril, but just call me Sally.”

“I know, I was in your History class.” The girl from before said. Her voice was actually quite soft when she wasn’t yelling. Peter was once again surprised by her.

Sally giggled at her, prompting her to let out a small smile. “I’m (y/n) (l/n). Feel free to call me (y/n).” She said quietly.

“I also know that already. You sat two desks from me, didn’t you?” Sally asked with a smile.

(Y/n) nodded. “Also I apologize for earlier… I just couldn’t stand him.” (Y/n) muttered with narrowed eyes.

“We don’t blame you, honestly,” the other guy in the group said. “Flash was being a dick. I’m actually glad you spoke up against him,” he snickered. “I’m Tyler Corbyn, by the way. People usually just call me Ty.”

“It’s just that no one said anything, so I thought I had to put a stop on it. He was disrespecting our teacher by misusing the time she gave us like that.” (Y/n) scoffed.

“And you?” Sally turned to Peter.

“Oh, um… Peter. Peter Parker.” He mumbled.

“Okay, now that we’re introduced, let’s talk about the assignment, shall we?”

After the discussion, the group agreed to meet up after school on Monday to start their project.

Sometimes Peter would let himself glanced at (y/n). He had to admit, even if he was still a bit scared of her, she didn’t seem that bad. He just needed to not press her buttons or risk her blowing up. She still had a short temper, after all.

He was certain that the rest of his classmates realized this too. They were all afraid of her, for sure.

It was kind of a bummer, but her display of anger that day would follow her for nearly her entire high school days. All the boys in their class feared her, especially Flash, and tried to avoid her. The girls would eventually befriend her once they know more about her.

And Peter? Well… He may thought she was scary for now, but there was respect within him. His Physics class seemed quite interesting now.

——————————

Notes: yes, I did yell in class when the professor was present and yes, she didn’t give a shit about it.

Taglist + Mutuals (let me know if you want me to untag you!)

@marvelexi @lou-la-lou @spiderbibby @hello–zuko-here @everydaymj @galaxystern08​ @allegra-soleil​ @fancyxparker​ @delicatepeterparker @parkerpeter24​ @terrifictomholland​ @quackeroos​ @angel-spidey​ @greenorangevioletgrass​  @awkward-darkness​ @chloecreatesfictions-archive​ @tonguetiedholland​ @peterspideysstuff​ @and-it-burns-like-a-fire​ @geminiparkers @weirdowithnobeardo @perspectiveparker

#peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #tom holland #mcu #marvel fanfic #peter x reader #peter x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #you are enough

[xmarksthescott]

FIVE TIMES DRABBLE PROMPTS @argenpluma​ sent: five times kissed

1.

a few weeks ago he would have never considered this as a possibility. not only is warren here and teaching him how to dance so he can take out jean, but he’s actually helping him by giving him tips on what to do on a date. turns out the guy he was so insecure over was just...nice. and he almost feels bad for how he’s misjudged him over the last few months due to his own jealousy, but its kind of hard to focus on that when warren’s hands are on his hips and he’s teaching him how to dance without stepping on someone’s toes. 

❛ i’m not...like i’m not too bad at this right? she’s not gonna totally dump me because i screwed up the dance? ❜ scott remarks, feeling a little aimless despite the obvious improvement. warren just laughs and for a moment, scott is puzzled. then he says. ❛ you’ll be fine. she’s going out with you because she wants to. and she’ll be glad you tried --now just treat me like jean and you’ll be fine. look, you haven’t even stepped on my toes yet this time so that’s progress! ❜

he knows he added that last part for levity, but it does help. and when the number finishes he kisses warren on the cheek, looking at him for his approval but all he finds is his surprise. ❛ too much? is she gonna hate me if i do that? is it weird to do that? ❜ 

2. 

the minute he gets the call that warren’s in the hospital, he feels immediate guilt. scott wasted months hating him because he was jealous of him. and that jealousy never had to exist in the first place because scott and jean were still scott and jean. he let his insecurities get the best of him and because of that, he iced out his friend for months. warren was....everything he ever wanted to be. he was confident with his powers, handsome, charismatic. people just fell in love with him the minute they met him and scott never questioned why.

but now he’s here, laying in a bed with his wings amputated. and when he wakes up...god he knows he won’t be able to handle it well. night and day he sits by his bedside just waiting for him to wake up. and when no one’s around, he talks to him. voice soft, he says, ❛ if i could do a lot of things over i would. you were good to me and i just...i was jealous of you. and when i got back to the team, you were encouraging me to do the right thing and i blew you off because i didn’t want to hear it. and if i lose you... ❜ he shakes his head, standing up just to lean over and kiss his forehead. ❛ don’t let me lose you. ❜

3.

by the time warren’s archangel persona resurfaces, scott’s used to it. but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t light a fire in his heart and cause fear to clutch all of his emotions. warrens his oldest friend and one of his most complicated relationships, but he’s always wanted nothing more than the best for him. 

and when he starts to fall, the calm and cool veneer of a leader starts to melt away. in its place, the fear and anxiety that comes with a man who’s petrified he’s about to lose someone who matters to him. he clutches warren’s body closer to him. wrapped in a hug. ❛ don’t do it. you can fight it off...whatever was done to you, you can fight it off. cause we can’t...i can’t lose you again. ❜ he kisses his temple out of impulse, feeling it the right move. 

4.

x-force was a necessity --but it was a cold one. scott never liked the existence of the team for all it did to the members, causing them great amounts of emotional stress. and when he found out warren was a member...he never wanted to shut it down more. he can’t protect his friend from everything, but god he wants to. because warren’s been through enough to last multiple lifetimes at this point, and if anyone deserves the break its him.

but when he finds out he lied to him? that he got the group back together after scott disbanded it? he feels betrayed --he feels scared. and in typical scott summers fashion, he lashes out when he feels that fear. and he brings that anger right to warren’s door, not even asking before letting himself in. 

❛ you brought x-force back together? you disobeyed my direct order? what gives you the nerve? ❜ but warren doesn’t respond with anger, even when scott’s pinned him against the wall in his fury --maybe he can tell that’s scott’s fear talking after all these years. instead, he says he never wanted scott to know because he was protecting him. and that makes some of the anger subside in scott, fear taking its place entirely as he meekly says. ❛ i know what this operation does to people...that’s why i shut it down. i’m not risking you. ❜ but warren does something unexpected, he kisses him. and with that, scott’s stunned to silence, even as he says not to worry because he always finds his place back. 

and he’s right, but maybe scott’s too scared to hear it. 

5. 

he wasn’t on the team or involved with the team when he heard about all that had happened. warren’s near death, apocalypse’s reemergence, hell, even jean from an alternate universe being back. but the moment he gets the call that warren almost died, he runs over immediately. his first thought is that his worst fears were right --and that he was so stunned by everything that happened that night he wasn’t firm enough with him. 

but when he gets to his medbay room, he sees him lying there with a smile on his face. like he expected scott to come and be as much of a mess as he was. and it would embarrass him if he wasn’t just so damn relieved to see him. and in his rush, he runs over and this he kisses him. forehead resting against his, he mumbles. ❛ try not to get yourself killed next time, flyboy. some of us like having you around. ❜

they can deal with the politics of it all and what it means for x-force’s existence later. 

#argenpluma #breakdown time for me

[shanie-the-toyaddict]

To anyone who is curious as to just how bad the post-show Buffyverse comics were, let me provide you with a list of spoilers from "Season 8" alone that should tell you all you need to know about why they need never be read.

Buffy has forcefully turned slayers into expendable clones of herself to thrown the forces of evil off her scent. Emphasis on the word "EXPENDABLE"

Dawn loses her virginity to a demon and now she's a giant.

OOPS! Now she's a Centaur. How the hell do these things happen?

Willow dumps Kennedy in favor of an astral plane magic deity who she spends most of her time fucking rather than contributing anything productive to the group (like restoring Dawn)

At one point when she does return to help the group, she is exceedingly manipulative, including using Kennedy for sex magic.

If that isn't enough, it's implied that Willow is no long human and, in a dark, apocalyptic future, she's fully evil again. When she gets to a point where she's losing her powers, she drags Buffy into her hellhole timeline under the guise of "changing the future by preventing it" and wanting to die. She promises Buffy that by returning to her own timeline after being in the future, the apocalypse future will never happen. Believing her, Buffy goes ahead and kills Future-Dark Willow and returns to the past "knowing" that the future is fine.... Spoiler alert. Future Willow was lying, the world still ended and Buffy killed Future Willow for real.

Xander hooks up with a slayer... who is killed IMMEDIATELY afterward, forcing him to bury yet another love interest. He swears he's done... at least until the next season when he decides to start dating DAWN. (Excuse me while I go VOMIT)

Harmony gets a reality TV show because clearly this timeline wasn't dark enough.

Giles disowns Buffy in favor of Faith. Somehow, this is the best plotline of the entire comics canon.

Dracula comes back and boy do he and Xander have some ish to work through.

WARREN IS BACK! He's back, he's dating Amy, and he's GOT NO FUGGIN SKIN!

Sidenote: Out of all the layers of bullshit in this saga, somehow this one is just downright unbelievable. Amy is far too much of a lesbian and Warren hates women. How the fuck did this happen and why are they still together by the end of Season 8?

Anyway, Angel is a god. And Evil.

OOP! Now Buffy is a god too.

They superpower sky fight Then they superpower sky fuck

Unfortunately, they can't seem to come to an agreement and Angel decides to make his point by MURDERING GILES.

Buffy's response is to say "FUCK EVERYTHING" and win the day by... *checks notes*... REMOVING ALL MAGIC FROM EXISTENCE thereby depowering herself, every member of her slayer army, depowering WILLOW (and forcefully ending her relationship with magic-deity-being), eradicating all magical creatures from the planet (spike survives by flying through a wormhole), oh and because somewhere along the way Buffy forgot how she got a sister, DAWN STARTS TO BTTF FADE FROM EXISTENCE AS WELL.

But... uh, destroying all magic also kills Warren off for good too so... uh... yay? I guess? In short. Don't read the comics. JUST DON'T. They are the absolute drizzling shit and JW clearly forgot his medication when crafting them. FUCK THE COMICS.

[rainy-day-gracie]

Old Friends 2

spencer reid x reader

BTW I kinda imagined this around season 7 Spencer, but you can do whatever you want :)

Chapter 3 has been posted!!

Chapter 2: 

Garcia had a multitude of questions. 

“How long did you guys date? Was he super different back then? Did you guys do the hanky panky? What-“

 I was laughing so hard tears were getting in my eyes. “Garcia, stop. I am not answering questions like that.”

Emily, JJ, and I were all holed up in Penelope’s office. Her colorful knickknacks and stress balls made me smile, and the ladies and I were starting to really form a bond. 

 Emily put her hand on my forearm, faking seriousness. “Okay but- did you?” 

   I turned even redder than I was before. “Well-“

 “Oh my god, that’s a yes!” JJ exclaimed. “Dr. Reid has game!”

 “I’ll say,” I giggled, which caused them to erupt into even more laughter. 

A knock at the door was barely heard over the ruckus of four grown women giggling like teens. Hotch opened the door quickly. “We have a case. It’s kids.” 

A silence quickly fell over the room, and we all left in an instant. 

This was my first case with kids. I knew from the moment we sat down in the BAU room that this was going to be a bad one. 

“In Cedar Crest, New Mexico, two nine and ten year old boys have been found, dead, with both of their shoulders dislocated. Cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head.” Garcia pointed to the TV with sad eyes. I looked down at my hands, avoiding the images of the dead boys. “Both showed signs of sexual assault.”

“We know from experience preferential offenders don’t stop until they’re caught, and work their kills methodically and carefully.” Hotch explained in a low voice. “Wheels up in 10.” 

---

“Small towns like this are hard to build a profile around. There’s too much overlap in residents, and Cedar Crest has a population of 958 people.” Spencer glanced over to me, no doubt taking notice of my silence. 

“Alright, when we land, Prentiss and JJ, you are going to interview the families, Morgan and Rossi you’re with me at the dump sites, and Reid and YLN, go to the ME and see what you can find out.” Hotch gave the orders swiftly, not noticing my quiet intake of breath. 

Spencer leaned over quietly and gave my hand a small squeeze. “The first case with kids is always the hardest.” 

---

The ME was good at her job. She explained all the grisly details quickly and without pause.

Walking out of the morgue was like being able to breathe again. I suddenly felt nauseous, and quickly threw up my breakfast over the sidewalk. Spencer wasted no time in holding my hair back until I was done vomiting. 

 “Sorry... this is my first case with kids. When I was a psychologist I studied children with traumatic pasts, but seeing...” I said all of this quickly and tears brimmed my eyes. I looked up at Spencer, his warm hands keeping steady on my shoulders. 

“It’s rough, but we can’t let it distract us from catching this guy.” I took a deep breath and he let go of my shoulders. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, YFN. We are going to get him.” 

Spencer’s phone rang, and both of us seemed to snap out of the trance we were in. “Hey what’s up?” He shut his eyes and sighed. “Okay, see you later.” 

“What is it?”

“He just picked up another kid. Warren Jacobs, 10 year old boy.” 

---

Patrick Younger is a 26 year old man. He’s lived alone all of his adult years and just recently got a job at the local elementary school as a janitor. 

“Patrick Younger, FBI!” Morgan yelled. Spencer wasn’t lying when he said Morgan can sure kick down a door. 

“Split up and search the house,” Hotch ordered. 

I was the lucky one that got the basement. Walking down those stairs felt like I was trapped inside a horror movie. 

The first thing I saw was the small child chained in the corner. And then there was the plate that smashed into my head. 

I collapsed on the floor, dropping my gun on the way down. I scrambled away from Younger, stood up and faced him with my arms stretched in front of me. Younger wasn’t sure what to do next. 

“Patrick, it’s okay.” The words tasted bitter in my mouth, and the sting on my forehead was making it hard to concentrate. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt any of those kids. You loved them.” I inched my feet forward, slowly. 

 He started tearing up, glancing over at the child, Warren, crying and chained in the corner. Blood was dripping in my eyes. “I-I did. I loved them.”

“I know you did, Patrick.” I spoke sweetly, looking him dead in the eyes. 

My fist on his jaw knocked him to the ground. The other fist on his jaw was to make sure he stayed down. And the kick to the balls was just for me. 

I flipped him over, pulling the handcuffs out of my pocket. “You are one sick son of a bitch. I got Younger and Warren!” I called upstairs. The team came rushing down to the basement, and I handed Younger over to Morgan. 

“Are you going to take me home?” A small voice called from the corner.

I looked over into Warren’s big blue eyes. “Yes, I promise.”

---

  Spencer stayed by my side the whole time I was with medics. 

“Spencer, I promise I’m fine.” 

The medic tending to my head snorted. “Oh no you’re not. You need 11 stitches, let’s go, you can ride with the kid. It’s a miracle you don’t have a concussion.” 

Spencer looked dumbfounded. “11 stitches and you think you’re fine? How are you still this stubborn since college?”

I laughed, which made my head hurt. “Go home, Spencer.” 

 He looked confused. “Go home? I’m meeting you at the hospital whether you like it or not.” 

JJ walked up next to him. “Oh yeah, we’re all meeting you at the hospital. Those stitches are going to leave a badass scar.”

“Hey, Agent YLN. It’s time to go!” The medic called out to me from inside the ambulance. The boy, Warren, was on a stretcher inside. 

 As I was getting in, JJ called out to me. “YLN! You crushed this case by the way.” 

---

I hate hospitals. The smell of bleach and the fluorescent lights attacked my senses. 

As I was sitting on my hospital bed, drinking coffee, my room was suddenly flooded with my team members. 

“Hotch, can I go home now? All this fuss over a little cut is just nonsense.”

Hotch chuckled. “I’ll talk to the doctor.” He left, and Rossi handed me a book. 

“What’s this?”

“Think of it as an official welcoming gift from us to you.” Rossi had a twinkle in his eye as he glanced between me and Spencer. 

I looked at the cover of the book. ‘Peu de Poésie’ or ‘Little Poetry’ in English. “How did you guys know I was looking for this book?”

“We didn’t, pretty boy did.” Morgan answered, clapping Spencer on the back. “He told us you would read the English version incessantly at MIT, so we figured we’d get you the French copy as well.”

I hoped the blush on my face wasn’t as obvious as it felt. “Well, thank you guys. It means a lot.” I cast a glance at Spencer. After all this time, he still remembered what my favorite book is.

Hotch walked back in the room. “YLN... wanna go home?”

“Thank god, let’s go!”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid series #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Can you write a follow up on your "all the yeerks suddenly die" au?

[Follows from this AU; all you have to know from that one is that all the yeerks suddenly died somewhere between the events of #19 and #20.]

Three days after a military scientist officially confirms that the strange new sinkhole beneath the California mall was put there by an extraterrestrial intelligence, and that multiple area teenagers have been leading a resistance movement, the paparazzi descends upon the high school.  They’re not allowed to cross onto school grounds, but that doesn’t stop the whole flock of them from mobbing the drop-off line, hoping for any further information on the infamous child warriors.

They’re destined to be disappointed.  Even armed with extensive rosters detailing the rumors about who was and was not involved in the war, there’s no footage to be had of any of the Animorphs entering or leaving the school.

“I feel like a damn drug mule,” Jordan grumbles as she dumps the contents of her backpack on the locker room floor.  Two roaches skitter out from among the books and clothes, and immediately start demorphing.  “I have to take my own stuff to school too, you know.”

“Sorry,” Cassie says as she finishes the morph.  “And thanks for the ride.”

“You’re not the problem.”  Jordan hands over Cassie’s jeans and sneakers, and then pointedly shoves the remaining pile of stuff — skirt, blouse, leggings, socks, bra, platform boots, makeup kit, hairspray — toward Rachel.

“It’s not a crime to want to look good,” Rachel sniffs, grabbing the hairspray.

A week later Rachel flings herself into the chair across from Chapman’s desk, tilting it back on two legs.  “Long time, no see.  What’s the damage this time?”

It seems to take an age for him to look up from the file on the desk in front of him.  “Bailey Matthews is being checked for concussion,” he says at last.  “No word from the nurse yet.”

Rachel blows her bangs off her face, exasperated.  “Not him, me.  What’ll it be?  Three detentions?  Four detentions?  Let’s have it.”

Chapman folds his hands on the desk in front of him.  “Given this is your third disciplinary action in less than a semester, it’s an automatic suspension.  Effective immediately.  I’ve already contacted your guardian—”

“What?  My mom’s a civilian, you can’t just—”

“You attacked a fellow student.  I can do what I deem necessary to keep it from happening again.”

“So you called my mommy to tell her what a bad girl I’ve been?”  Rachel sneers.

“So I talked Principal Walsh down from expulsion,” he says quietly.

Rachel’s mouth falls open.  “Expulsion?  What the fuck.”

“You have, inarguably, ‘demonstrated a consistent pattern of violent behavior.’”  Chapman reads this last off the file in front of him.  “I argued that your exemplary GPA and clean disciplinary record up until this last year are evidence that this pattern arises from an undiagnosed stressor outside the school environment.  I have already contacted one of the counselors in the school’s network, and recommended that you talk to Dr. Irvine twice a week at minimum.”  He looks up at Rachel.  “She was a controller too.  It was the best I could do.”

“You think I need therapy?” Rachel demands.  “You think I’m off the rails?”

“Rachel...”  Chapman takes a breath, and then another.  “You’ve been forced to grow up too quickly, with no guides.  You’ve been asked to assume a burden that can and has killed men twice your age from the stress alone.  And you’ve had to do it without any of the social or structural support that actual military personnel would have.  That is, in essence, the definition of complex trauma.”

“And if I refuse your headshrinker?”

“Fine.”  He makes a note in the file.  “You’re suspended an additional two days.  If that’s what it’ll take to cool you off.”

Bang.  Rachel’s chair falls upright as she stands.  “You think you scare me?  Huh?”

“Sit.  Down.”  Chapman shoves to his feet as well.

Rachel’s chin comes up.  “Or what?”

“Or we’ll continue to escalate,” Chapman snaps.  “Until you morph and smear me across the linoleum.  You’ll have to kill me, but you’ll find a way to cover that up.  So there will be no real consequences for your actions, as usual.  Is that what you want?”  He’s practically shouting by the end.

Rachel stares at him.  Eyes wide.  Face pale.

Chapman takes a step back from her.  He sits back down, breathing hard, clearly fighting his own temper.  “I didn’t ask for this job,” he says quietly.  “The yeerks just placed me here.  But the fact remains that it is my responsibility to look out for all of the students in this school, Rachel.  All of them.  I want to help you, but I need to help Bailey and all the others as well.  So if you’re going to continue to be a threat to the safety of my students, then you can you can either shape up or get out.  Do I make myself clear?”

Without a word, Rachel whirls around and shoves out the door.

“Jaaaaake,” Tom calls down the stairs, a distinct sing-song quality to his voice, “your girlfriend’s on the phone.”

Jake runs for the phone, pulling it away from Tom.  “Cassie?” he says breathlessly.

“Rachel too,” Rachel says from the other end.  “Actually, you should loop Tom in.  This concerns him as well.”

Jake switches on speakerphone, setting the phone on the end of the bannister.  Tom gives him a questioning look; Jake shrugs.

“We just got done telling my parents about everything,” Cassie says into the phone.  “Now that everyone knows about the yeerks, it seemed like time.”

“We’re off to tell my mom next,” Rachel weighs in, voice tinny.  “I’m the one who suggested Cassie spill the beans.  Obviously our sibs and Marco’s parents already know, so it was just a matter of time.”

Jake takes a deep breath, staring at the ceiling as if imploring it for patience.  “You do remember the part where we all agreed we’d decide as a team when to tell the parents, right?  And you remember before that, when we voted to wait until we got official confirmation that the yeerks were all dead before doing anything reckless?  Because I seem to recall that that time you also went haring off and told Tom about us all being Animorphs.”

“Told you he wouldn’t be happy,” Cassie says quietly.

“Rach, quick question.”  Tom leans close to the phone.  “Actually, two questions.  First, is he always this bossy?  And second: if so, how did you go this long without strangling him?”

“Oh, shut up,” Jake mutters.

“See?”  Tom raises his eyebrows.  “Bossy.”

“Anyway, we wanted to give you a heads up,” Cassie says, too diplomatic to respond to that directly.  “Because if we tell Rachel’s parents, yours are going to find out pretty soon.”

“Cool,” Tom says.  “I’ve been saying we should tell from the start.  Jake can take care of that.”

Jake’s mouth opens halfway in indignation.  “Why just me?”

“Mom, Dad.”  Tom addresses thin air.  “You know how my grades have taken a nosedive this last quarter?  It’s not my fault, because I was mind-controlled by aliens.  Aliens that have since mysteriously disappeared.”  He widens his eyes.  “No, I’m not lying to get out of being grounded, and I can’t imagine why you would ever think that.”  He looks at Jake.  “See?  I don’t even believe myself.”

“He has a point,” Rachel says.

“Whereas you...”  Tom points at Jake.  “Just go ‘Hey guys, look what I can do!’  And then...”  He makes a gesture that is probably meant to convey morphing.  Either that or that he’s attempting to give himself the heimlich maneuver.  It’s a little unclear.

“Fine.”  Jake rolls his eyes.  “But you have to be there to back me up.”

“Bossy,” Tom whispers loudly.

“Bossy,” Rachel agrees, in an even louder whisper.

Marco goes on a date with Bethany Stevens.  It ends abruptly when she asks him if he knows anything about the alien stuff that’s been all over town, and doesn’t believe him when he announces that that has nothing to do with him and even if it did he wouldn’t want to talk about it.  It’s stupid, he’ll think later, to panic over being outed by a random civilian.  But paranoia doesn’t disappear overnight, even if apparently yeerks do.

“Um.  Hi.”  Tobias stops in the door of Chapman’s office, left hand wrapped around his right elbow.  “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes.”  Chapman sets a slim envelope on his desk.  “This isn’t how it was supposed to be delivered, but Warren DeGroot thought it best to waive...”  He cuts himself off.  “It’s your father’s will.  I ended up with it because the yeerks read it — illegally, sorry — and immediately went looking for you.”

Tobias doesn’t step into the room.  He stares at the envelope.  “My father’s dead?”

“Yes.”  Chapman shifts in place.  “I’m sorry, I thought you knew.”

Tobias shakes his head.  “I don’t know anything about him.  Never even met the guy.”

“Actually...”  Chapman shakes his head.  He nudges the envelope closer to Tobias, who still has not made a move toward it.  “Just read what he said, it’ll explain everything better than I can.  It’s not much of an excuse, but I did think you already knew, given your closeness to Aximili.”

“He abandoned me before I was even born.”  Tobias’s tone tries for apathy.  “What’s Ax got to do with it?”

Chapman gestures at the paper.  “Just read it.”

Tobias darts forward like a mouse entering an open field, snatching the envelope and retreating back to the doorway.

“Tobias!” Chapman says, stopping him in the doorway.  “You’ll probably have questions.  I’m not the best person to ask — I barely knew him for a few weeks, and I can’t claim we were ever friends — but if I can help at all...”

“Okay,” Tobias says.  “Thanks.”  And then he runs for it.

Tobias and Rachel walk each other to class.  Tobias and Rachel kiss in the hall when they arrive for the day.  Tobias and Rachel eat lunch together, leaning close to whisper to each other over a single shared carton of milk.

The rumor mill is appalled, of course.  What’s she doing with a guy like that?  Rachel’s the most popular girl in the ninth grade, and Allison heard from Brady who heard from Juan who knows for a fact that she had no less than four requests to go to Homecoming with various guys.  One was even a tenth-grader.

And yet she’s not holding hands with that tenth-grader.  Nope, she’s letting herself be seen in public with that new kid, the weird one.  The one who hunches his shoulders when startled and actually hissed at Andy Mitchell last week.  The one who’s always staring way off into middle distance, never paying attention to where he’s going.  Yeah, that new kid.

It’s the scandal of the century.

“...Jake?”  Ms. Hanna is leaning forward over Jake’s desk, frowning down at him.  They’re alone, the rest of his History class already having left at some point.  He must’ve lost time again.  Crap.  He hates zoning out in the middle of class.

“Sorry.”  Jake drags a shaking hand over his face, grimacing at the feel of fear-sweat on his skin.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, uh, not pay attention.”  It won’t be his first detention this month, and probably not his last.

“Are you back with me?” Ms. Hanna asks.  Her tone is... gentle.  Her pad of detention slips is still on her desk.  “It’s okay if you’re not.”

“Sorry,” Jake mutters again.  “I probably missed a lot.”

“It’s just the Revolutionary War, you can catch up later.”  She makes an impatient gesture.  “Can I get you anything?”  Her tone has softened again.  “A glass of water?  Do you want me to write you a pass for the nurse’s office?”

Immediately Jake shakes his head.  The school nurse is a civilian.  Ms. Hanna, it’s becoming obvious, is not.

“How about I get your brother, then?” she suggests.  “If you need to go home, it’s no trouble to write notes for you both.”  She moves to put her hand on Jake’s arm, but stops when he flinches at the motion.

“Could...”  Jake breathes in, then out.  The trembling will be gone soon, he knows.  “Could I just sit here for a minute?  Is that okay?”

“Of course.”  Ms. Hanna takes several steps back, giving him space.  “Of course, honey.  Take all the time you need.”

«You wished to see me, Prince Alloran.»  Ax stands at attention in the middle of the incongruously cheery-looking park, doing his best to ignore the gawking humans on the playground down at the other end.  He can’t imagine why Alloran wanted to meet here.

«There’s no need for formality, Aximili, we both know you have far more combat experience than I do.»  Alloran makes a dismissive gesture.

Slowly Ax lowers his tail.  «What is this about, sir?»

«That was commendable work with the human radio telescope, Aximili.  It has successfully intercepted signals from the andalite forces from as far away as the Anati homeworld.»  Alloran’s tone is careful in a way Ax does not like.  As they speak, circling the park, Ax can feel all eyes following them from all sides.  «Including a few highly encrypted, deeply euphemistic allusions to a mission that took place two local months ago here on Earth.»

«Andalites?» Ax asks sharply.  «Here?»

«Not a counter-invasion, of course.  A small force of war criminals, not officially recognized or endorsed by any authority, all of whom were declared dead before the mission even began.  A force specifically designed to keep the War Council’s hands clean.»

«A Suicide Squad?» Ax suggests.

Alloran makes a gesture that Ax interprets to mean sounds like some human nonsense I haven’t bothered to learn about, and keeps going.  «All four were meant to have died, by their own tails if not in battle.  That way, they could never speak a word of their mission to anyone else.»

«Their mission,» Ax repeats.  He has a horrible suspicion about the nature of that mission, given the timing — mere days before the death of every yeerk on the planet.

«Aximili, I called you here to meet the architect of the yeerks’ demise.  The creator of the second quantum virus we have now deployed in this war, one far more monstrous than anything even I could have devised.»

Alloran whirls faster than any human can react, tail bullwhipping through the air to stop millimeters from the throat of an ordinary-looking human girl.  Several people cry out in surprise, but the girl just looks calmly up at him.  “Prince Alloran,” she says.

«Estrid-Corill-Darrath,» he answers.  «My brother must have been so proud.»  This does not sound like a compliment.

«You must be very skilled, to have made a hybrid morph so soon,» Ax says.  «But you have a lot to learn about pretending to be a human.»

Estrid begins to demorph.  She never takes her eyes off Alloran, and he never moves his blade away from her throat.  «I ended the war,» she says flatly.  «You’re all very welcome.»

«Truly,» Alloran says, «It is an honor to be standing in the presence of the greatest mass murderer in all of history.  One who lacked even the courage to die for her sins.  You have surpassed me in every conceivable way, aristh.»

Estrid makes a sharp, dismissive gesture with her own tail.  The closest human equivalent Ax can imagine is if she had spat upon Alloran’s shoes.

«What do you mean to do with her?» Ax asks.  If she actually did what Alloran accuses — unleashed a virus deadly enough to annihilate the yeerks — then he finds himself torn between disgust and awe.  But that doesn’t mean he wants her dead.

Alloran tilts his head in consideration, and then drops his tail.  «She can live.  If I’m to be stranded here the rest of my days by the Electorate’s ruling, then she can endure the same.  Killing the architect of this massacre would be folly.  If the virus mutates enough to jump hosts...»

Ax shudders from stalk-eyes to hooves at the thought.

«...then she’ll be best equipped to do something about it.»  A cruel smile creases the corners of Alloran’s eyes.  «Besides, I think it’s safest for all involved if she’s confined to a primitive planet like this one, kept well away from any technology she could use to incite further mischief.»  With that, he turns and disappears into the trees.

Ax and Estrid stare at each other for the long, silent moment that follows.  «Will it mutate?» Ax says at last.

«The odds are infinitesimal!» Estrid snaps.  «Otherwise I never would have —»

«Killed an entire species?» Ax suggests.  «Were you aware of the Yeerk Peace Movement?»

She snaps her tail dismissively.  «A handful of token resisters does not make up for an entire empire’s worth of evil, Aximili.  And the virus did the killing, not me.»

Ax stares at her for a very long time.  «I will not tell the humans about you, if the virus does not mutate,» he says at last.  «But I also don’t think I ever want to speak to you again, Estrid.  Goodbye, and be well.»

He thinks she calls after him.  He doesn’t answer, only runs faster and focuses harder on beginning to morph.

“No, leerans are the aquatic ones that read people’s minds,” Jake hears Tom say from downstairs.

“I thought you said that yeerks were aquatic and read minds,” his mom responds.

“No,” Tom says.  “I mean, yeah.  But yeerks swim around in kandrona or in brain juice.  Leerans swim around in oceans.”

“And they shapeshift?”

“Those are andalites.  Andalites are the morphers.  You remember Ax?  Ate an entire pie in one sitting while pretending to be Jake?  Andalite.”

“So Jake became an andalite?”

“No, an andalite became Jake.”

“I thought you said that was because a yeerk became Jake.”

“No, a yeerk was inside Jake’s body.  So they had an andalite pretend to be Jake.”

“While a yeerk was also pretending to be Jake?”

“I guess.  Look, Mom—”

“So this yeerk morphed Jake, and then—”

“No, the yeerk was inside Jake’s brain.  He had control of the original Jake.  And then Ax acquired Jake’s DNA, then became a copy of Jake.”

“And he controlled it?”

“Uh.  No?”

“But then... Tom, I thought you said that yeerk was controlling you.  Did it make a copy of you too?”

“What?  Nobody morphed me.  That I know of, anyway.  Yeerks can’t morph.”

“I thought you said humans can’t morph either.  Does that mean Jake’s an andalite because he can morph now?”

“No, he’s just an Animorph.”

“And that’s its own species?”

“Don’t I know it.  But no.  Animorphs are dumb kids in spandex.  Andalites are the ones with the tail blades.”

“Oh, and all the spiky horns?”

“No, those are hork-bajir.”

“Hork-bajir, like the aliens who attacked the Gardens that one time?”

“Those were yeerks that attacked the Gardens.  They were using hork-bajir as hosts, but it was a yeerk attack.”

“Because the yeerks acquired hork-bajir DNA?”

“Mom...”

Jake considers going downstairs to attempt a rescue mission.  Then he remembers Tom contributing almost nothing to the entire conversation where Jake explained the war to their parents, and decides against it.

When Jake and Marco walk out of school at the end of the day, Eva’s leaning casually against the hood of her car at the front of the pickup line.  She scans the lines of kids with studied nonchalance, carefully ignoring the frantic whispers of the clusters of parents who stare at her from their own patches of sidewalk.  Someone must have told the flock of reporters who she is, because six or seven of them are shouting questions at her from their side of the school fence.  She doesn’t appear to have noticed them.

But Jake knows enough about Marco’s knack for showmanship to know that he comes by it naturally.  He also knows Eva well enough to notice that she’s smirking just a little, underneath her impeccable makeup.  She’s just here to pick her kid up after school, and she’ll probably swear that on her own grave... but she’s enjoying herself as well.

The My Other Car is a Blade Ship bumper sticker on the back of her minivan is new.  As is her updo.

“Is she trying to embarrass me?” Marco groans.

He doesn’t fool Jake either.  Mostly because he’s grinning from ear to ear, and there’s a catch in his voice.  His mom is home.  His mom is home.

Drake Zahn is the only one who comments directly to Marco about how apparently his mom ran off with the pool boy and had to fake her own death just to cover up the scandal.  Actually, Drake gets halfway through a comment to that effect before there’s a resounding thud from three lockers down.  Tom Berenson has just dropped an eighty-pound weight on the locker room floor, and now props a foot against it as he watches them both with an expression of mildest curiosity.

Behind Tom stands a red-haired kid named Bill that Marco mostly only knows from Sharing recruitment posters.  Bill’s surrounded by a loose cluster of kids, some older, some younger.  Together, they represent a decent subset of the clique that people have taken to calling the Sharing pack, for lack of a better explanation for how they all started hanging out together.  Three months ago, Marco would’ve just referred to them as the controllers.

“Do you have a problem?” Bill asks quietly.

“What?”  Drake looks from one of the Sharing kids to the other.  They all look back at him, most terrifyingly blank-faced.  “No, no problem.”

“So you’re just being a dick, then,” Tom comments.

“I don’t...”  Again, Drake looks around at the circle of ex-hosts.  “I...”  He turns and leaves without another word.

After a second, so do most of the no-longer-controllers.  None of them acknowledge Marco directly.

“Dude,” Tobias says later, after telling Marco about an eerily similar incident.  “Did we, like, join the Sharing without meaning to?”

Marco shrugs elaborately.  “Man, I think the Sharing joined us.”

Cassie startles, hastily trying to wipe her cheeks, when someone wrenches open the door of the janitor’s closet and dives inside.  It’s too late; Tom has already slammed the door shut behind him and turned to see her.  Tear tracks and all.

“Oh, shit,” he says.  “Sorry, I didn’t realize.  Sorry, I...”  He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.  “Do you mind if I stay just for a second?”

Cassie wipes her eyes again.  “It’s okay,” she says hoarsely.  “It’s a mop closet, I think anyone can use it.”

Tom sighs in relief.  “Honestly I’m sorry to intrude.  I was hiding from Ms. Paloma, and I didn’t realize you even knew about this place.”

“Knew about... a closet?”  Cassie’s actually glad he’s here, even if she’s a little embarrassed to be caught crying.  It always helps to have someone else around, so that she doesn’t have to be alone with her own thoughts.

“Oh.”  Tom steps forward and shoves aside one of the rows of shelves in demonstration.  The secret door behind leads to a staircase that winds straight down into a very familiar-looking set of tunnels.  “That’s what I meant.  Better hiding place to cry in private than a closet.  Not that you have to, because you had the closet first.  But crying is healthy.  Or I guess feeling things is healthy?  And so if you want to go feel things, I can just... stay here.”

Cassie smiles.  “I don’t mind the company,” she tells him.  She accepts the awkward hand that he offers her, stepping down the first several stairs with him.  Tom shuts the door behind them.

By silent agreement they sit down on the stairs well before reaching the first bend of the staircase that might bring the main Yeerk Pool cavern into view.  

“Do you... want to talk about it?” Tom asks softly.

Cassie doesn’t say not to you of all people, because that’d be rude.  Instead she takes a stab at getting him to understand.  “I lost a friend,” she says carefully.  “In... everything that happened at the end of the war.”

“A... friend.  Ah.”  Of course he understands that she means a yeerk.  “Someone who... was helping your side?”

She’s grateful to him for trying.  “She was tired of the war, just like me.  She wanted out, like I did.  So she gave up on having a host ever again.  Because I asked it.  Because Karen — her host — needed it.  She, uh...”  Her voice breaks.  Dammit, here come the tears again.

Tom lets her cry for a while.  He digs around in his pockets, coming up with a crumpled napkin that he gives her.

Cassie sniffs into the napkin, trying not to dwell too hard.  “So why were you hiding from Ms. Paloma, anyway?”

Tom flushes.  And then he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a silvery flask.  “She saw, she’s pissed.”

“You were drinking alcohol in the middle of the school day?”  Cassie knows she sounds judgmental, but honestly.  Of all the stupid things her classmates do, that has always seemed to be near the top of the list for stupidest.

“What?  No.”  Tom unscrews the cap and hands it to her.

Maple-and-ginger instant oatmeal.  She recognizes the scent with visceral immediacy.

“Will that... make you impossible to infest?” Cassie asks.  She doesn’t say stupid things like all the yeerks are dead, because she’s wearing her morphing suit under her clothes right now for exactly the same kinds of reasons.

Tom tilts a hand in the air in a so-so gesture.  “It’d make me less attractive as a host, especially if I managed to down some in between...”  He gives a self-conscious little laugh.  “In between things going wrong and them going really wrong.  Anyway, it makes me feel better, that’s all.”

“Feeling things is healthy,” Cassie says, smiling.

“Yeah, which is why I’m going to keep hiding down here until Ms. Paloma gets distracted and then...”  Tom shrugs, laughing at himself again.  “Move counties, change my name, and fake my own death to avoid detention?”

“Let me know how that works out for—”

The hidden door at the top of the stairs scrapes open.  They both scramble to their feet, looking guiltier than they should.

Mr. Tidwell regards them both from the top of the stairs, expression very mild.

“I think I discovered the major weakness of this hiding place,” Tom whispers.

“The fact that half the faculty was controllers?” Cassie whispers back.

“Out, both of you.”  Mr. Tidwell rolls his eyes.  “Before the ceiling finishes collapsing and I have to fill out a novel’s worth of paperwork about your deaths.  And if I ever catch you down here again, I will be forced to remember that instant oatmeal does technically fit the definition of a controlled substance by the way the School Board defines banned materials.”

“Sorry,” Cassie says, as they file back out into the closet.

“Just don’t do it again,” Mr. Tidwell says, and she could swear he’s smiling a little.

Someone from the U.S. government calls Marco’s house, looking for a defense briefing.  Peter’s not sure if they want his son or his wife, but either way he politely assures the man that this is a wrong number.

“All right,” Marco calls even as he approaches Ax’s scoop.  “What is this ‘regrettable purchase,’ and why are you and Tobias begging me to help with it during a perfectly good Saturday?”

«Well,» Tobias snarks, «it’s not like you had plans or anything.»

“I, for your information, was right in the middle of helping my parents install a second anti-aircraft dracon beam on the roof of our house.”  Marco presses a hand over his chest.  “Ergo, I do have more important things to be doing right now.”

«Wouldn’t a second dracon beam be redundant?» Ax asks.

“My mom’s only installing a second one because of the hissy fit the homeowners’ association threw over the first one,” Marco explains.

«Wow,» Tobias drawls, «I can’t imagine what their objection would’ve been.»

“Anyway, why’d you frantically call me here in the middle of the day to demand my hard-earned...”

Ax has slid the computer around so that Marco can see the screen.

“Holy shit,” Marco breathes.  “Is that the real deal?”

«The picture is extremely poor quality due to the limitations of your human technology.»  Ax makes a very human hand-tilty motion.  «However, I can be approximately eighty-six percent certain that it is, indeed, a morphing cube.»

“And this guy ‘DavidCobraLord’ is just... selling it on Ebay.  For forty bucks.”  Marco sits down hard on the ground.  After a second, he grabs the computer and yanks it closer to himself.  “What is he, nuts?”

«Yeah,» Tobis says, «he could totally get fifty for that thing.»

«The question is, can you afford to purchase it?» Ax asks.

«We may have, slightly, placed a bid with funds we didn’t have,» Tobias says.  «And now Ebay’s being a butt about asking us to actually, y’know, pay up like we said we would.»

“Yeah, sure, I got it.  And just like that, we’ll have our very own morphing cube?”  Marco hears his voice rising and can’t even care.  “Damn.  Do we have to give it back to the andalites?”

«What the War Council doesn’t know will not hurt it,» Ax says darkly.

Tobias and Marco both stare at him.  He stares back at them both.

«We can keep it or dispose of it, as Prince Jake sees fit.»

«You okay, Ax-Man?» Tobias asks.

«I have been on Earth entirely too long,» Ax says.  «And yet, I find I am reluctant to leave.»

“So don’t.”  Marco pulls the computer close to him, setting his dad’s credit card on the keyboard to begin typing out numbers.  “Our door’s always open.  Go visit the folks at home, come back and visit us.  Don’t choose, and if anyone tries to make you then whack ‘em with your tail.”

«Yes,» Ax says solemnly.  «I believe I just might.»

“I heard about what you said to Tobias.”  Rachel shoves Devon up against the row of lockers, hard.  “You want to repeat it to my face, or do you want to keep being a wimpy little twerp about it?”

Devon holds up both hands, eyes wide.  “Get ahold of yourself, you psycho!”

“What did you call me?”  She leans in close, vision tunneling with rage.  “What did you just—”

Someone grabs her on the arm.  Rachel doesn’t think, just spins around and punches with all of her strength.

Cassie staggers back, clutching her nose.  There’s already blood starting to seep from between her fingers.

She and Rachel stare at each other in silence for a second.  When Cassie starts to say something, Rachel shoves roughly between her and Devon and storms off down the hallway.

She doesn’t even fully register the trip down the stairs and across to the main office, every muscle clenched tight like a fist.  Other bodies impact hers, and she keeps charging forward anyway.

When she reaches Chapman’s office, she shoves the door open so hard it bangs against the wall.

“Rachel?”  Chapman’s voice is carefully neutral.  He looks up from where he’d been in quiet conversation with the principal.  Registering Rachel’s expression, he moves just slightly to place himself between her and Ms. Walsh.  Which only steels Rachel’s resolve.

“I...”  Rachel breathes in, gathering courage.  “I think I need help.”

Chapman stands.  He exchanges a glance with Ms. Walsh, who steps out the side door into the front office.

“That doctor, that therapist of yours.”  Rachel tries to catch her breath.  She doesn’t know why this is scarier than facing down an army of yeerks, but she’s never let fear stop her.  “You said that I can talk to her?  That she’d understand?”

“She can try, anyway,” Chapman says.  “Dr. Irvine’s been holding an appointment slot for you since last month.  I can get you in this afternoon.”

Silent, throat tight, Rachel nods.

He picks up the phone.

It’s something, Rachel thinks.  It’s a start.

#animorphs #animorphs au #long post #rachel berenson #violence mention #genocide mention #trauma #dissociation mention #hypervigilance #minor character death #aus #tom berenson #hendrick chapman #figured i'd do something different this time and focus on the ex-hosts #branch out in a new direction #try something i've never done before #jk i'm a creature of habit #sol cares too much about the meatsuits #anonymous #asks

[mercurygray]

Director's Commentary for Day of Days, Ch 26 which you did so beautifully! Hope its not too long, I wanted to get the whole context of this great unspoken trust event between Dick and Joan.

He wanted everyone he could get, and Joan was good at this, assaults on fixed positions, and she’d seen it, could tell him things about how she’d come through the country that couldn’t be explained in a five minute meeting in a farmyard. “Sir, Lieutenant Warren has seen the - “

Strayer’s stare was murderous, and Dick realized he shouldn’t have questioned. “That’s an order, Winters.  Now grab your men and move out.”

“Sir!”

“Dick.” Joan had followed him out of the CP, running a few steps to catch up.  “I know what I saw. Four guns, Entrenched, I think - and well concealed. Brush and netting. But three towards the coast, and one covering the road. A corner, not a line. Lieb was with me, he’ll - he’ll know.”

He nodded, not knowing what else to do, and went to collect the rest of the platoon, giving instructions so Compton could shout for the company to circle up on him. “Mahoney, Shapiro, Russo, with Lieutenant Warren to the ammo dump. Everyone else up here with Winters.”

And that’s all the women are good for, is it? We’re leaving some of our best players on the bench here. Dick wanted to admonish Buck for the assignments, but this wasn’t the place, and there wasn’t time - and Gordon wasn’t here to remind him of how the game should be played. Dick took a breath and pulled himself into the matter at hand, taking his pencil from his pocket along with a small pad of cheap newsprint, grateful it was still dry. “The 88s we've been hearing...have been spotted in a field, down the road aways. Major Strayer wants us to take them out. They’re firing on Utah Beah, this way.” His pencil moved over the paper, drawing the position and the approach. Three guns, four? If they did this wrong, if Joan had seen wrong, had miscalculated, they would pull wide, perhaps cover more ground than necessary, loose cover crossing a field that did not need to be crossed - but if Strayer was wrong, and they missed the fourth gun, he would be sending men into the middle of a well fortified position to die. Who did he trust?  His pencil swiveled, and he carved the L into the paper. “And plan on the fourth gun, here, covering the inland approach.”

He continued speaking, about the trenches, the machine gun at the back of the emplacement and could feel Joan’s eyes on him, burning from the back row, and when he looked up she was smiling, angry to be left behind, grateful to have been heard. “Right, let’s move OUT.”

Ah, Brecourt.

Two things. First, this is obviously a huge scene in terms of Dick's leadership, and the way the men view him - he is quick, competent, and wildly brave.

I knew I couldn't just take this action and give it to someone else. It has to remain his. I also didn't know how I felt trying to add the girls in; it's a pretty tight operation, and everyone has a part.

The second is depending on who you ask, there are several ways the assault happened.

As with any great war story, where you were when the attack took place mattered - Winters had a version (the Army War College version) I believe Malarkey had a version that's slightly different, and if you look at the ground at Brecourt, as many battlefield historians have done, they call Winters' memory into account on the placement of the guns.

So I decided to use this uncertainty to create a moment for Joan before the assault starts - she couldn't go with, because that's too easy and too obvious, so she provides the initial site observation, which differs from the aerial reconnaissance that Strayer is consulting.

I wrote a version this scene before a lot of other material, and ended up writing in more moments of Strayer second-guessing Joan before this; by the time we get here it's been pretty well established that he doesn't think she's good for much.

So the scene becomes both an establishing shot for Winters in the action of it, but also in the planning - who do I trust here? A man who outranks me, or my colleague? He knows he's being watched, by his men, by Joan, and he makes a decision and publicly commits to it. In the middle of all of this, his message to Joan, without saying anything directly, is clear: I trust you, even if Strayer doesn't.

This also creates a moment of powerlessness for Joan - she's the type of person who likes to do her own work and lead from the front, and she can't here. She has to leave this with Dick and trust that he can make it. (It's a situation that may well be reversed later in the story.)

There's another layer after this is all over, which doesn't get mentioned but exists purely in my head to spite a certain type of armchair historian - Joan reports that the guns were 88s, and they're actually 105s. Dick never brings that up afterwards, because in the big picture it doesn't really matter. The thing that mattered, their placement and eventual destruction, was correct.

#directors commentary #thirsty thursday #the darkening sky

[onmywaytobe]

Dissidia Writeblr March 2021 – Week 4

yes i am ashamed this is so late and so long but thanks to @kiljoytrout i didn't have to come up with like half of this stuff! thanks for taking my boyo and bringing him out of his shell and writing your piece for both of us. as always thank you to @dissidia-writeblr for putting on this event!!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

When Leo opens his eyes, he finds Zeph smiling at him serenely. The amount of oxygen in his lungs is dizzying. He’s barely conscious as Zeph pulls out heavy black chains and binds his hands together. “These won’t hurt at all,” she says, her pasted-on smile some semblance of reassuring. “They’re just a precaution to nullify any magic or advanced tech you might have.” When Leo doesn’t resist, she adds, “Thank you for your cooperation.”

As if he could fight someone like her. With those wings, and her magic, he’d be ended in an instant. And he doesn’t want to fight back. What kind of thanks would that be for what they’ve done for him? The new sensations in his body are overwhelming, but there is no doubt in Leo’s mind that he has been healed.

He’s never felt like this before. Clear lungs, free of the constant phlegm that plagued him his entire life. No shooting stomach pains, no cramps, nothing like the variety of symptoms he was used to telling him that one of his organs was malfunctioning. He is now at the peak of health. It would take a little getting used to.

Leo barely notices as Zeph leads him into a cell and leaves him there. Leo is glad of the chance to rest, but after an hour or so passes he begins to get antsy. There is so much energy coursing through his body and he doesn’t have anywhere to go. He satisfies himself by looking around the room. There’s nothing to see besides the uncomfortable chair he sits on, its twin across from him, and a bucket in the corner. His nose wrinkles at the sight, but he knows he won’t be in there long enough to need the makeshift toilet. He’s a little hurt that the Chikara would heal him only to dump him in a holding cell, but Zeph said it was all just a precaution.

Precaution or no, Leo wants to make sure he can get out if things go sideways. The chair’s frame is rusty enough that he is able to tug some of the spokes free from the underside. The long pieces of metal are a little on the thick side for what he wants, but they’ll have to do. He examines the lock on his chains, allowing himself a small grin. He needn’t have worried. This would only take him a moment to remove.

Content to wait, Leo twiddles his thumbs until the door to the cell slams open, most unexpectedly. A woman with short, blond hair and dark green eyes runs in, and she’s wearing a soldier’s uniform. Leo raises an eyebrow at the sudden intrusion. “My name is Tess, and I’m here to help you escape.” She unlocks his chains. “Do you trust me?”

Leo doesn’t get the chance to tell her no. The door to the room opens again, and two Chikara walk in with another man, also wearing the black chains. Tess curses under her breath, and golden light starts dancing along her skin like fire. This is enough of a surprise to the Chikara that she is able to pull the stranger away from them and try to take his chains off too. Leo still hasn’t moved from his seat, despite his hands being freed. He’s not a fighter.

The Chikara are still coming for them, and at that moment Tidis arrives. He smirks when his eyes land on Tess. “And one of the rebels returns. Today is my lucky day.” Light and darkness start swirling on his skin.

Tess curses again and pushes Leo and the stranger to the door on the other side of the room. “Leo, Lindy, find Wayne. He’s rescued Warren. He should be going to the hangar where they keep their ships,” she hisses under her breath at them. She pushes them through the door and locks it from the inside.

Leo immediately turns to his companion. “Were you also summoned?” he asks. He would need to know as much as he could about his new ally if they ran into any more trouble. “How do you know-”

The guy gives Leo a cold look, and Leo quiets, falling into step alongside his new friend as he stalks off. Leo is quite shaken by his removal from the cell, and still adjusting to his new body. It made him bold enough to join this stranger on whatever mission he was so intent on. Besides, anything that took him further away from the magic battle was all right with Leo.

The stranger is observing the space around them, taking it in with what Leo could only describe as awe. Perhaps he was familiar with these sorts of things. It would be helpful for someone who knew what was going on to be on Leo’s side. He grimaces, rattling the heavy chains still locked around his arms. Leo notices, patting his pockets for the makeshift lockpick he’d fashioned earlier, and finds it missing. Must have dropped it in all the commotion. He spots an antenna on the wall that would be much better suited and twists it off, making a move to unlock his companion’s chains.

Leo hadn’t said anything, since the other guy (Lindy? Was that his name that Tess had shouted at them?) didn’t want to talk, and now found himself being smacked into the side of the corridor. “What the hell, man!” Leo sputters. “I was just trying to pick the lock on your chains.” He definitely should have explained first. That’s what he gets for trying to be considerate.

“Oh.” Lindy doesn’t apologize, but helps up Leo from the floor and wordlessly stretches out his arm for Leo to have easier access to the lock. After a few twists, the chains slip off easily. Leo keeps the antenna, and grabs one of the locks as well. Never know when these things could come in handy.

They continue walking, and the echo of their footsteps in the silence makes Leo lonely. He misses the comforting presence of Warren. They had been a much more agreeable companion than this Lindy fellow. At least Lindy seemed to know where he was going, his pace measured and sure, never hesitating at crossroads. Leo wondered how he knew, and how Lindy had ended up in the same chains as himself if he was so familiar with the way the Chikara lived.

“Who is Warren?” Lindy asks suddenly.

For a second, Leo wonders whether Lindy can read his mind. If he wasn’t already convinced that this was a dream, he was considering the possibility again. But after his moment of shock, he’s more surprised that Lindy’s even said anything at all, considering they’ve spent the last few hours in complete silence.

“Why do you want to know?” Leo replies pointedly. Why not ask about this Wayne, for instance?

Lindy doesn’t answer, only pausing to shoot Leo a sideways glance. It looks a little too close to sympathy for Leo’s liking. Leo narrows his eyes at Lindy, who of course doesn’t notice.

After another few moments of uncomfortable silence, Leo sighs. He might as well talk to this Lindy person, if only to get him to stop looking at him with such pity. “They were one of the first normal people I met when I got summoned to this place. Got to know them pretty well. We were separated a little while ago though.”

“Oh.”

Leo rolls his eyes. That seemed to be half of this guy’s vocabulary. He was so glad he’d made such an effort. Clearly Lindy thought the conversation would be of some benefit to Leo, but Leo would have been just as content with silence.

They walk on in silence for a few more minutes when Lindy comes to a stop. Leo stares at him curiously as he starts to tap his finger against a sheet of metal on the wall.

“This shouldn’t be here,” Lindy says thoughtfully.

Leo is in no mood to be civil. Apparently this sheet of metal meant more than a human conversation. “Well, it obviously is there, so I don’t know what to tell you.”

Lindy just stares at Leo for one beat with those watery blue eyes, and it’s as good as any death glare; the hair on Leo’s neck prickles. “What I mean is that there should be an entrance here to the hangars, but it seems that they’ve blocked this one up.”

“We just have to take it down then,” Leo says nonchalantly. “It’s just flimsy sheet metal.” He kicks at the metal covering and immediately regrets it. Pain radiates through his bones like an alarm blaring, and he falls to the floor. Lindy looks down at him, expressionless, while Leo groans. “Oww.”

“It’s not sheet metal,” Lindy explains. “It’s probably either titanium reinforced Kevlar, or some otherworld material. You can tell from the lack of sheen that it’s durable.”

Through gritted teeth, Leo manages, “Why didn’t you tell me that before I kicked it?”

Still staring down at him, Lindy replies, “You didn’t ask.”

Eyes watering, Leo takes the hand that Lindy offers with more than a hint of irritation. It was becoming apparent that Lindy did not care one whit for Leo.

Lindy, paying him no mind, is surveying their surroundings. “Give me a leg up,” Lindy says, nodding to a panel he’s noticed above their heads. Leo follows his gaze and understands immediately. He boosts Lindy up on his shoulders. Besides the painful protesting of his ankle, it’s not too bad. Maybe the healing process had made him stronger.

After a bit of tinkering, Leo hears a creak from up above, the weight on his shoulders vanishes, and Lindy’s hand extends from up above to help him up.

“Are you sure that’s stable?” Leo calls, but he’s already taking Lindy’s hand, so he’ll find out one way or another. Lindy doesn’t respond anyway.

Leo cranes his neck around the cramped ventilation shaft, in which both of them are crouching down as low as they can. By the soft indentation in the metal, grooves caused by the unmistakable impressions of knees and hands and occasional banged heads, he can tell that this is certainly more than your run-of-the-mill ventilation shaft.

“This way,” Lindy says, motioning to the left of their loose panel. Leo falls back behind him and the two crawl down the seemingly endless shaft. It only occasionally quivers in a way that makes Leo nervous that it can’t support their weight.

Leo finds himself yawning as they go along. He never thought that getting summoned to another universe would be so tiring, or so dull. Almost in response to his thoughts, he hears a huge bang from the other side of the tunnel.

They both freeze.

“What does that mean?” whispers Leo.

After a beat of silence, the banging starts to get closer. Lindy turns pale.

“It means that someone’s in here with us.”

#dissidia writeblr #my writing #leo #this has been such fun #i truly am sorry that i'm soooo slow

[fourdaysofrain]

Working Imperfectly

Summary: Peter struggles with his workload. 

(This is a (late) Valentine’s Day exchange fic for the incredible and talented @ephemeralstark! I hope you enjoy!)

Read on AO3

Tick, tick, tick, tick. 

Peter doesn’t know how it started. 

Tock, tock, tock, tock. 

He’s been staring at his ceiling for hours. 

Tick, tick, tick, tick. 

He doesn’t even want to look at the clock, knowing he’d hate what he saw. 

Tock, tock, tock, tock. 

---

Peter’s eyes burned as soon as he opened them to see the sunlight cutting in through his window. He groaned as he flung a hand to his nightstand to turn off his phone alarm. The silence that followed was music to his ears. He closed his eyes again and breathed in deeply, savoring the warmness of his bed. 

“You’re going to be late!” May’s voice cut through the final strings of sleep tying him to his bed. 

He groaned out a response and threw himself out of bed. Everything was sore. He was sore in places he didn’t even know he could feel. He had been up late fighting some… electric guy. He hadn’t stopped to get his name, but he still felt like lightning was zapping between his toes.  

Thankfully he still had some fresh laundry. He threw on some clean clothes and went to the kitchen to eat something before he left for school. May watched him from over her phone as he came in.

“How’d you sleep?” she asked. 

Peter rubbed a hand on the back of his head. “Fine! You know, I slept great.”

“Really?” She turned her phone around so he could see the screen.

Peter took her phone and read through the short article. It was a quick description of the fight from last night. Okay, so the guy’s name was Electro. That’s good to know. 

“That was from the weekend,” he stammered, handing the phone back to May and turning around to shove some bread in the toaster. “They must have been waiting to publish it on a school day.”

“Peter,” she said slowly, standing up and turning him around so she could put her hands on his shoulders. “You can’t do this to yourself. I worry about you.”

Peter shrugged her hands off and turned back to the toaster. “I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“And would you say that if you weren’t?” May sighed at his silence. “I love you so much, babes. It’s my job to worry about you.”

“May, I promise.” He took his phone out of his pocket and started to send a text to Ned. “I’ve got it. Spider-Man’s got it. We all got it.”

May sat back down at the table and hummed as she picked up her coffee mug. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” he said. 

May turned off her phone and put it back in her pocket. She cleared her throat. “Tony’s coming over for dinner tonight, by the way.”

Peter looked up from his phone cautiously. “What happened to hating him?”

“Well, it’s funny. He has a way of winning people over.” She paused to look at Peter’s raised eyebrows and smirked. “But Pepper’s who finally turned me around.”

Peter laughed and looked back at his phone. Ned finally replied. 

I’m here lol, the text said. did u do the study guide for warren?

He was going to do that last night, but then Electro showed up. Shit.

He flinched right before the toast popped out of the toaster.

---

Peter went through school mechanically. Sit next to Ned in classes, ignore Flash’s quips, zone out while looking at MJ, the usual. He even had time for Ned to info-dump to him about what was on the study guide before he went into Mrs. Warren’s class. 

“And then you have to remember to change the variables, but you already know that,” Ned finished just as they walked through the classroom door. 

Peter sighed as he threw his backpack by a stool. “Thank you so much, man. I owe you one.”

“That’s okay,” Ned said as he claimed the stool across from him. “You probably owe me like, five hundred by now. I’ve learned to not keep track.”

Peter groaned and ran a hand through his hair. It was getting a little long. “I’ll get you one of Mr. Stark’s ashtrays next time I visit. You can sell it on E-bay or something.”

“That’s good, ‘cause I’m totally in it for the money.”

Peter and Ned shared a quick, small laugh as the bell rang and Mrs. Warren started to hand out the tests. 

Peter tried to ignore the clock as he finished his test. Each time the second hand moved sounded like a gong. 

---

“It’s not my blood, don’t worry!” Peter called through the apartment as he climbed through the living room window. His bedroom window was blocked by a few tough-looking birds and he didn’t want to disrupt their meeting. 

He was stopping a mugger on the way back from Decathalon, but the mugger somehow ended up swiping the knife across his stomach while trying to do some knife trick to intimidate him. The person he was mugging ran away, and Peter ended up having to call an ambulance and apply pressure to the wound for a while. What a weird day. He ended up with a few small bloodstains, but thankfully everyone would be okay, mugger included. 

He slowly lowered himself from the ceiling and cringed at the faint bloody handprint that stained the white paint. He’d be hearing about that later, surely. He tugged his mask off and turned around to walk to his bedroom before freezing suddenly. 

“Hey, kid,” Tony greeted nonchalantly from the couch. 

Tony and Pepper were sitting on their couch. Right, May had said they were coming over for dinner. Tony’s eyes were crinkled with mirth behind his tinted glasses. Thankfully Pepper remained cordial. 

“Nice to finally meet you, Peter. Tony’s told me a lot about you,” she said, standing up and offering her hand. 

Peter vigorously wiped his hand on his thigh to get the blood off of it before shaking her hand. He didn’t feel too much stickiness when they separated, which was a good sign. He tried to give her a smile that didn’t look deranged. 

“Nice to meet you too, Ms. Potts.” He leaned around Pepper to look at Tony, who was still sitting on the couch. “You talk about me?”

Tony shrugged and removed his tinted glasses. “When you’re not covered in blood.”

“When am I covered in blood?” Peter looked down at his suit and then at the professional chic outfits Tony and Pepper were wearing. “I’m just going to go change real quick.”

He got a few feet past the couch before almost running into May, who bringing Pepper and Tony snacks from the kitchen. She jumped, almost spilling the crackers. 

“Peter,” she sighed, “I love you so, so much, but you’re all over the place today. I set out some nice clothes on your bed, go get changed.”

Peter nodded and left to change out of his suit, but not before grabbing a few crackers and cheese slices from May’s plate. 

---

The clinking of silverware seemed to fill the room. Tony and Pepper were perfectly polite, the food was great, but it was weird to mix his Spider-Man life with his personal life. It would be like if that weird lizard dude from last month started teaching his science class. 

“May, the chicken carbonara is lovely,” Pepper said, breaking the silence. 

May smiled at the compliment. “Thanks, it’s one of the few things I can make. It’s my mom’s recipe.”

Pepper and May’s chatting slowly faded into the background of Peter’s mind. He focused on the pasta he was twirling on his fork. 

His mind went to school. He had a project for Spanish due on Friday, some math homework slowly piling up in his notebook, and a history assignment he had to get done. He knew that by the time he finished everything, he’d have a whole new set of homework assignments to stress out about. 

He hoped everyone in Queens could just take it easy on the crime for the next few days so he could get caught up on everything. 

May nudged his ankle with her foot from under the table and he looked up from his plate to see Tony and Pepper looking at him. 

“Uh… what?” 

Tony chuckled and asked, probably for the second time, “How’s the suit holding up? Dubious blood stains aside.”

“Oh, it’s great, Mr. Stark. Really nice. It stretches in the right places and… everything.” He shoved some pasta in his mouth so he didn’t keep rambling. 

“Good to hear,” Tony said with a laugh at the edge of his voice. He makes eye contact with Pepper before looking back at Peter. “Pep and I wanted to invite you to come to the lab upstate and work on a new suit. It’d be good for you to get some input on the new design.”

Peter stopped chewing and looked at May incredulously. 

She smiled and said, “It’s fine with me.”

He swallowed his half-chewed pasta. “Yeah, that’d be-- that’d be really cool, Mr. Stark. That’d be great.”

“Great,” Tony said with a smile. “Happy can pick you up after school on Friday.”

“Wow, thank you, Mr. Stark,” he said, trying to ignore his ever-growing to-do list that had to be done by then. “That’d be awesome.”

May nudged his shoulder with hers. “As long as you get all your homework done. Spider-Man can’t be failing any classes.”

“Easy-peasy,” he said, squinting at her. “Piece of cake. Homework’s easy.”

He joined in with the slow wave of laughter that spread across the table. 

---

Before he knew it, it was already Thursday night. He was sitting at his desk, staring down his Spanish project as his clock kept moving forward and forward. 

Cuando tenía ocho años, me gustaba ver las películas Star Wars con mi tío. Íbamos al cine juntos. 

The imperfect tense would never make sense to him. Neither would the formulas he was learning in calculus. Or the war he was learning about in history. He sighed and put his head in his hands. 

If he turned his head just right, he could see the corner of his Spider-Man suit peeking out of his backpack. He started to smile and shut his laptop.

---

This is what made it all worth it. Swinging through the fresh night air and feeling his gut lurch with adrenaline at every downswing. He felt like nothing could touch him when he was like this.

A tone rang in his ears and he looked to the corner of his UI where Tony’s face was currently flashing as he ran along a rooftop. 

Almost nothing could touch him while he was like this. 

“Can you accept the call, Karen?” he asked, flipping backward over the edge of the building and falling into a swing. 

He only had a moment of the wind rushing past him before Tony started talking. “Got a sec, Pete?”

“Yeah, I’ve got plenty of secs.” He screwed up his face as he swung up and planted himself on a rooftop. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He heard a small sigh over the line. “I’m going to do us both a favor and ignore that. What’re you doing up so late?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, swinging his feet off the side of the building. “Just swinging around. Stopping crime. All that stuff.”

“I seem to remember May giving you a curfew of 11pm, is that still in place?”

Peter checked the time at the side of his UI. It was past midnight. “Uh, no. She decided to take a more… flexible stance on that.”

“Let’s pretend you told the truth just then. Why are you out past curfew?”

“Who says I’m out past curfew?” He stood up and started pacing. “Why are you up so late, anyway?”

Peter blinked when Tony suddenly hung up the call. He only had a moment to react before he heard the Iron Man suit land on the other side of the rooftop. The suit parted to let Tony step out, dressed in a faded band shirt and oil-stained jeans. 

“I was field-testing some ideas for tomorrow when I got a little blip saying you were still out,” he said, clapping his hands together. “So what’s the deal, kid? Are you nervous to check out my lab? Totally understandable, but you shouldn’t worry too much. I let DUM-E roll around, and he’s more of a mess than you.”

“It’s not that at all, it’s just--” Peter tugged his mask off, feeling strands of hair fall at the base of his neck. He rubbed them between his fingers. “Do you think I need a haircut? I feel like my hair’s been getting really long and I know I need to get one, but it’s just that there’s a million different places to do it and I don’t even--”

Tony walked towards him with his hands up, as if approaching a wild animal. “Hey, woah, kid. Your hair’s fine. I’ve got a barber I can send to your apartment if you need.”

“It’s not even that. It’s--” Peter ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just stupid, is what it is. I’m Spider-Man, right? I should be able to handle this--” He slumped against the concrete barrier around the edge of the roof and cradled his head. “This! High school, classes, friends, all of it. It’s not hard! I can just-- can see everyone else doing it. Betty does everything I do and she does the announcements and has a job to save up for college.”

“Betty isn’t also moonlighting as Spider-Man.”

Peter made a noise that sounded almost like a growl. “That’s not the-- She could! If she was Spider-Man, she would be able to, is the thing! I just don’t know what everyone else has that I don’t! That’s it!”

He heaved out a sigh. When he spoke again, it was much softer. 

“I just feel like I’m drowning.” He looks up to Tony from where he’s sitting. His eyes are glazed with a thin veil of tears. ”And every time I get close to breaking the surface and getting a chance to breathe, the water level just rises again. I never get a chance to stop moving.”

Tony carefully sits next to him. After a second, he places a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “We can work with this. You’re feeling overwhelmed. That’s… That’s a normal teen thing.”

Peter choked out a laugh and rubbed his eyes. “I guess. It sucks.”

“Yeah, I remember it sucking quite a bit,” Tony said. He motioned between the two of them. “But this is good. Communication. Asking for help. That’s good. That’s all you.”

Peter shrugged and hummed in response. 

“You know what’s not good, though?” Peter looked up at Tony. “Using your suit as a way to escape your issues.”

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled, looking down at his lap. 

Tony sucked air through his teeth sharply. “No, you-- You don’t have to apologize, kid. This is normal, what you’re doing. I’m warning you about the suits as a preventative measure.” He looked up at the stars and exhaled softly. “It can be hard to have such an easy escape route. Who needs to worry about the lowly issues of the people when you can just fly away from it all, right?”

Peter joined Tony in watching the stars. Even though the smog of the city covered a lot of their view, they could still see the lights twinkling in the distance. 

“But you’re too young to worry about all that yet,” Tony said, giving Peter’s one last squeeze before removing his hand. “So hit me, stripling. What’s got you down?”

“Um… homework?” he offered after a moment.

Tony scratched his jawline. “Let’s narrow it down a bit, eh? Anything due tomorrow?”

“Well,” Peter sighed, “I’m supposed to write a paragraph in the imperfect tense for Spanish, but I never know when to use it, even though Mr. DiPaolo has explained it a million times.”

“Okay.” Tony paused. ”Well, that’s doable.” He stood up and walked over to his suit. “Italian’s got a similar quirk to the past tense. I might not be as good as your teacher at explaining, but I know the ropes. Sit tight.”

“Wait, what?” Peter pushed himself up and followed Tony. “Are you teaching me Spanish?”

Tony detached the helmet from the suit and moved to stand in the center of the roof. “Got nothing better to do at midnight on a Thursday. As long as you promise to keep this to yourself. Your aunt is a force to be reckoned with.” He paused to think. “On second thought, you can tell her how good of a mentor I was by teaching you Spanish, just leave off the fact that it happened past curfew.” 

Tony placed the helmet down on the surface of the roof and minutely adjusted the angle it was facing. After a moment, he stood up and moved in front of it, wiping his hands on his jeans. 

“Sit,” Tony said, pointing at the ground a few feet from his helmet. 

Peter sat. “Mr. Stark, you don’t have to do this. I can look up a Quizlet or something.”

Tony waved him off. “Nonsense, kid. You’ll be back home and practically fluent in less than an hour. You can even hitch a ride back on the suit if you promise not to use your taser webs.” He checked his watch and frowned. “Not that this is going to be a thing between us. This is a one-time offer. Don’t form a habit of staying up this late.”

“Yeah, of course. Of course.” Peter scooted himself closer and looked up at Tony. “This is so cool,” he said, almost to himself.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Tony said with a ghost of a smirk. He clapped his hands at the helmet. “Hit it, FRI!”

A holographic screen coming from the helmet flicked on to the side of Tony. He used his finger to write el imperfecto on one side and el pretérito on the other. 

Peter still had a lot of homework to do. He knew he would still have trouble managing his life with Spider-Man. But sitting on the top of a building past midnight, being taught how to use the Spanish past tense by Iron Man, he realized he would always have people to help him if he needed it.

Tag List: @ironfamjam @addi-is-amazing @mysterio-is-a-little-bitch @wellplacedbanana @night0seven @unfathomable-universe​ @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @spideynamu 

#ok but if anyone needs help with high school spanish PLEASE hit me up #i WILL love you #art writes #irondad #iron man #spider-man #marvel #mcu #peter parker #tony stark