#some brown people are pale karen

[ladyfromaspookyforest]

Wheeler/Byers Wardrobe Analysis

Season 1 Part 1

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

This has probably already been looked at in depth because hasn't everything? But I looked up potential tags that I’ll be using and didn’t see anything (without scrolling for a year), so forgive me if I’m repeating what’s already been said, but I'm new here (Hi. Hello). I’ve seen a lot about the Will/Mike/El color theory. What I haven’t really seen is colors assigned to other characters. So as I am starting a rewatch, I thought I’d take a look at the color palettes for other major characters and I noticed pretty immediately that there are trends, though it’s less about one assigned color than it is about color palettes and how they are worn. And these trends present themselves a lot in regards to an overall family aesthetic for both the Wheelers and the Byers. So they will be the major focus of this analysis, plus a few relevant others like Steve or El who have a heavy influence on members of these families.

So here’s the first shot of Nancy in the show. She’s in her bedroom (blue and pink pastels everywhere, blue pastel PJs, blue pastel phone)

And here’s the first shot of Karen along with a shot of her and Holly the following morning. I found this really intriguing that right off the bat, we’re shown Karen dressing Holly in EXACTLY the same outfit she herself was wearing the day before. This really sets the trend for how the Wheelers are presented. Karen dresses Holly like herself and a lot of what Nancy wears emulates her mother.

Nancy’s outfit that day once again consists of pastel blues and pinks, just like Karen’s, including a checkered element, just like Karen's. She’s also matching Barb (though Barb is in bolder shades, red versus pink) and Steve in pastel blue. Later that evening when Steve sneaks into her bedroom, Nancy is no longer wearing the pink sweater, wearing only the blue button down and matching Steve even more.

And here is the whole family. Very pastel. Very aesthetic. Very nuclear. Except for Mike, wearing bold primary colors and stripes, as he often does. I’m not going to talk about Mike’s outfits much independently because so many people already have. But in comparison with the rest of the Wheelers, here we can clearly see that he contrasts. He is the outlier and the outcast. He’s the only member of the family not trying to conform (or in Holly’s case, being shaped to conform). Even their placemats match the color palette. But then look at Ted. He’s wearing clothes he probably wore to the office (what office? I don’t know. He seems to always be sitting around watching TV or complaining, but he does leave for work at some point, so…) All of the female Wheelers are matching in their blue and pink while Ted is lacking any color or personality whatsoever and Mike is popping out in his primary colors, though there’s also a lot of soft grey on his shirt that allows him to blend somewhat. Karen, we know, has settled in this marriage and Nancy, we know, is beginning to struggle with fitting in. She’s been a "good girl" her whole life and this really shows in the way she dresses in early season 1. She is a reflection of her mother.

And then here are the Byers. Brown, dark blue, dark green, beige, tan, denim, shearling, corduroy. These are trends for the Byers family. Muted earth tones and strong texture.

EPISODE TWO

We see Nancy and Barb coordinating again, this time Nancy in lavender and Barb in coral (both in delicate sweaters). I think it’s interesting that Barb wears bolder colors than Nancy. Her outfit from episode 1 and this one are both brighter than Nancy’s very pale ensembles. This seems to really demonstrate how much more confident Barb is in her social status than Nancy is. Barb knows who she is and who her friends are. She doesn’t care about being popular. In a way, Barb is a lot more like Mike and the party than Nancy. So Barb wears bolder colors. She’s not ashamed to be a labeled a nerd or a goody-two-shoes. Nancy has been shown to wear a lot of blue and pink, but here, she’s wearing the combination of the two in purple. Steve, throughout all four seasons, wears a lot of blue. I’m just starting this rewatch and closely looking into the wardrobe, but that is something I remember pretty easily. And here, Steve’s whole crew is all dressed in blue. Is the purple Nancy’s pink beginning to blend into Steve’s blue? Or is it Nancy’s own duality beginning to blur as her previously separate colors have merged into one? (or is it a sweater someone picked up and said “yup looks like Nancy”) I think it’s the second one. I think it has nothing to do with Steve, actually, and a lot more to do with Nancy figuring herself out because purple is a color I know Nancy wears again in later seasons as well (to be examined closer further down the line). Nancy in this scene is conflicted about whether or not to lie to her parents and go to a party with the popular kids on a weeknight, all very out of character for her, and she's still clinging to Barb, begging her to come along and trying to force these two crowds that don't mix together. Barb is in pink. Steve and co are in blue. Nancy is in the middle in purple. And like I said, I don't think this is so much ABOUT Steve as it is about who Nancy wants to be. She doesn't know.

And then we come to that fateful party. Nancy changes her shirt in the car before they go to Steve’s house. She’s wearing bold red stripes, completely out of her usual color palette or style. The texture is different, the pattern is different, the colors are different. It’s not Nancy. And in a few episodes, Nancy tells Jonathan she and Barb went shopping for a shirt she thought Steve might like. It feels safe to assume this is the top.

I also want to note that Barb has not changed her clothes from earlier in the day, nor has Steve. But Barb is now wearing a blue jacket over her bright sweater. She doesn’t want to be at this party, but she came anyway for Nancy. She’s hanging out with people she doesn’t like and she’s now wearing the color they are all also wearing. Except for Nancy. Because she tried to pick out something Steve would like, but there’s a disconnect here. Nancy chose something red, a bolder variety of one of her usual colors, rather than something blue, Steve's usual color. This could be a way of demonstrating that Nancy doesn't actually know what Steve likes or wants (and the obvious that she's trying too hard).

Karen’s outfit in this episode is again very close to Nancy’s. It’s actually very similar to Nancy’s outfit from the last episode where Nancy wore a light blue button down with a pink cardigan. Here, Karen wears a light blue button down with a pink and grey sweater vest. And once again, Mike’s outfit contains a LOUD and nonconforming color palette.

Meanwhile, in this Byers flashback, Will is dressed in Byers colors, but he, like Mike, is also wearing pops of primary colors. Mike’s outfits have contained bright colors but also reflect, stylistically, the Wheelers. His shirts are preppier and he's wearing khaki pants here. Will is similarly reflecting his own family stylistically with a T-shirt and jeans, but brighter.

I also want to note that this (episode 2, the day after the party finds El) is the first time we see Mike in red. Mike and Will's shirts in this episode are actually really similar, both containing blue, yellow, white, and stripes. But the top portion of each of their shirts reflects the person they are seen interacting with most in the episode. For Mike, this is El. For Will, it's Jonathan. And I don't know if I can declare brown Jonathan's color, but he wears it a LOT.

This is long and it will only get longer as I continue this silly adventure, but I'm sharing my observations for fun.

#stranger things wardrobe analysis #nancy wheeler outfits #wheeler family #byers family #byler color theory #nancy wheeler #mike wheeler #karen wheeler #joyce byers #jonathan byers #will byers #my dumbass post

[quandaryqueen]

Someone to look up to

Year One Jonathan Crane with an older sibling figure headcanons

I was struck by this and they won't let me write Riddler requests in peace until I finish these.

🧡 Their name is most likely of biblical origin due to their family being influenced by their frantic faith of religion. They attain the usual traits of the Keeny, an unusual youthfulness edged with sharp features and a resting 'holier than thou' look. Dark hair, either blue eyed or brown. Pale-- almost a sickly shade of white, anemic, if you will and also slender, emaciated from the constant starvation. 

🧡 I like to Imagine that the older sibling Jonathan looks up to isn't his older sibling at all. More like an aunt/uncle, the younger sibling of his mother that's about a decade older than he is. But they took him under their wing and stood up as his older kin.

🧡 Their relationship with Karen, their older sister is something similar to what will eventually be their role in Jonathan's life. Karen was eight years older than them. With Karen constantly encouraging them to stand up for themselves against their mother and grandmother, reassuring them that it would scare them and will no longer lay a hand on them. Raised out of fear, Karen's younger sibling didn't follow after their sister's rebellious steps when she suddenly fell pregnant, grandmother Mary and mother Mary condemning her. Not only that, they were punished by proxy of Karen's mistakes.

🧡 Fond and sentimental of their disowned older sister, they made a silent promise to keep her baby boy safe. Grandmother Keeny always making you watch the young boy whenever she's gone, something that's rare as she was a touch possessive of Jonathan, as if she didn't want you to bond with him.

🧡 When he grew up, he was constantly attached to them. As a result, grandma Mary being her petty self, goes as far as to keep them away from him by making them work in the city.

🧡 They were firm with Jonathan, often rambling away at him about life lessons and he'd listen intently. Even at a young age, they talk to him as if he was an adult, with the way they don't sugarcoat words and censor themselves. Telling him about the vast outside world, about morality not being black and white, how some natural things such as reading books that aren't of religion are not sinful, how all supposed bad things are created by Satan to lure him away from God, how people of religion are not all good etc etc.

🧡 From the outside one would think of them as being cynical, but deep inside they want nothing more than to be treated with kindness and compassion for once. All that their grandmother taught them of living, was to live with repentance by suffering.

🧡 Having been subjected to Granny Mary's sadistic alleviation, they know what to do and what to say to lighten whatever punishment she has. As much as they want to shield Jon away from the punishments from Granny, they couldn't. The best they can do is to teach Jonathan how to ease his ailments, giving him tips on how to cover himself amid a murder of crows.

🧡 They were also soft for Jonathan, how they would let him sleep in their room and let him snuggle up to them, read him stories, help him with school, taught him how to play an instrument. Whenever the came from work, they'd come home to discreetly gift Jonathan some books and clothes.

🧡 As for his bullies, at first Jonathan doesn't want to tell them due to them being stressed already. As time comes, they become suspicious of him and sat him down to talk, where he had confessed and cried to them. They resorted to talking to his bullies' parents about their behaviour. They also encouraged him to stand up to himself and understands how sometimes that alone will not stop people from hurting him. So they taught him to avoid them as much as possible.

🧡 Raised in an abusive household, it came to the older sibling how to be discreet. Recognising footsteps, hiding evidence, lying convincingly, creating hidden passages in just about anything to hide things, knowing what to do or say in certain situations to appeal to the abuser, etc.

🧡 Where food is withheld for an extended amount of time as a punishment, with Jonathan mostly subjected to this, the older sibling would discretely give him food when Granny isn't looking.

🧡 The first time they cursed out of frustration in front of Jonathan, even if it weren't directed at him, triggers him into an anxiety attack.

🧡 The older figure being there for Jonathan as a shoulder to cry on, locking him in their arms and running their hand on his back as he sobbed on their chest.

🧡 They always felt the need to put up a tough front for Jonathan to look up to, even if they're falling apart from the seams. Even if they try, a breaking point is not too far for them to reach and they'd collapse before Jonathan, something they found guilty and shameful for.

🧡 Jonathan would sometimes catch them exhaustedly seated on the floor next to their bed, their face being concealed by their knees braced close against their chest. He'd see how they try to keep silent, but their shaking shoulders gave them away. He would sit by their side and just lean on them as they cry, until eventually they subside into a fits of sniffles and hiccups. With their throat tight from the tension of sobbing, they ramble about how they promise to run away from granny someday.

🧡 They keep a journal, filled with delirious thoughts of ending it all at those bad days. It's no secret that they're starting to cave in from the abuse, their only lifeline being Jonathan's utmost safety. And with their unstable mind, they confide in their journal, lamenting death or the thought of not existing at all. Sometimes, they entertained the thought of taking grandmother Keeny with them in death.

🧡 It came to the point that they had enough, they organised to leave Georgia and go to Gotham. Everything was intricately detailed, and Jonathan couldn't wait to get away from the grips of the hag. Your belongings were packed, you were at the train station, you had your tickets at hand... But then she threw a wrench in your plan.

🧡 She found her grandchild's one of many journals and submitted it to an asylum, where the workers snatched them from the station under the pretense of them kidnapping Jonathan, that they were suicidal and homicidal. The image of them being dragged by the asylum workers was embedded in his mind, the way they kicked and screamed and reached for him. The image that followed was of great granny Keeny feigning worry and taking Jonathan in her embrace and out of earshot, she whispers that he shall repent in the chapel, her arms tightening around him until he couldn't breathe.

🧡 The older sibling figure in his life was a piece of hope amid the tumultuous period of his life and seeing them being ripped away from him had placed him in his very own void of depression, he himself feeling the way they felt, thinking about how he shouldn't have existed. So he spent times slaving away, thinking about how pointless everything seemed.

🧡 He was forbidden to visit them in the asylum, as they were deemed dangerous and unstable. Diagnosed with a bipolar disorder, his older sibling was kept under watch at constant times due to them being 'suicidal and homicidal' and had come from a long line of family with mental illnesses.

🧡 One day, he was cleaning their old room when he stumbled upon their journals in your dresser, in a secret storage. He wouldn't dare touch their belongings, but he was compelled to read whatever's written in their journal. Something along the line of:

Grandmother had locked Jonathan in the aviary again so it seems, familiar cuts riddling his small body that's reminiscent to mine. The scar's yet to fade. The sensation's yet to fade and I can no longer tolerate birds. I don't want Jonathan to feel that way, to feel unsafe at the sound of birds flying up ahead and shrink away in fear. I don't want him cowering at the mention of going to chapels, unable to breathe at the presence of graphic depictions of hellfire and eternal punishment. To wake up from nightmares only to face them in his waking days. I don't want him to go through the same thing I had.

If only it were easy to escape from the hag's talons. To render her gone forever. Lop her head off and hide her in plain sight, perhaps be the same scarecrow she torments every day, looking over the expansion of the land her family owned, the family she disgraced. I was tempted to swing the sickle at her neck when she turned her back on me, but the sight of Jonathan next to me had grounded me back to reality. And besides, a sickle can only do much, but cutting her head off is not one of them. Severing major arteries on her neck would do the trick, but the bitch is as stubborn as roach. She would refuses to die just to spite me one last time. Perhaps locking her in that damned chapel would do the work, if only I can replicate whatever concoction she mixes up.

I fear that one day I lose my bearing before Jonathan and act out my darkest fantasy. I don't want him to see the monster that I am, I don't want him to see what Lovecraftian nightmare my tormentor has made out of me. I don't want him to see me the same way he sees our tormentor. And so I will keep to myself until eventually the hag dies and we'll be free. I hope it won't be long.

🧡 Something in him stirred upon reading that log of their journal. He started seeing them in a new light, but not in the way they fear he'd see them as.They will always be his hope. And he will start what they've wanted to end.

🧡 Eventually when he was free of his greatest tormentor, the first thing he did was to visit them in the asylum. But they died. Died of grief, says the staff but their abrasions on their autopsy says otherwise. Later on when he donned the Scarecrow's mask, he targeted them first.

🧡 When he had to leave Georgia for Gotham, he plucked a single memory of them from their room-- a photograph of them with Mary cut out of it before he moves to Gotham. Kept safe amid the pages of his journal where he constantly thought of them, used them as a motivation to continue on with life and live it the way they would have wanted him to.

#dc scarecrow #year one jonathan crane #year one scarecrow #headcanons #angst #cw abuse

[thecreaturecrossroads]

Virphyra

Name: Virphyra, Yra, Thorny Orchid

Race/Species: Moth Faerie

Alignment: ??

Voice Claim: None at the moment

Home Town/Country: Monstera City, FaeWilds

Height: 6′ 7″

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Date of Birth: ??

Hair/Fluff color: Pale Yellows and browns/ Pastel Fuchsia

Eye color: Purple

Age: "That’s rude to ask Buster.”

Pets: The Fish in the tanks in her Bar. She also has a Fae Poodle Named Maximillian. Not Max. Maximillian. Yes he is Black.

Likes:  Flowers, Fish, Fruity drinks, black clothes, Orange Chicken and Mango rice, Sangria, strawberry milkshakes. Early Summer evenings, Honeysuckle and orchids. Glam Goth Clothes and accessories. When people tip her employees. They deserve the extra cash on top of their nice salaries! When she get’s to kick out nasty patrons to her place! Walking along the beach at night and watching the lights of the city. Green olives.  

Dislikes: When it rains. People trying to touch the fluff on her body. Yes she knows it looks super soft. That does not automatically give you permission. Karens. Her parents. Rowdy customers! People who don’t tip her employees! Rude customers! Slackers! People that start fights in her bar! Pickles!

Personality: Yra is generally pretty friendly and of course likes to have fun, but she is very driven in those things she wants to accomplish. She takes her job and business seriously. It’s her life. She has fun at it but it’s also the livelihood of her and her employees. Therefore she is more than willing to go the extra mile. No one disrespects her employees, if you break something after getting rowdy she will bill you for it. She feels no shame for any part of her life getting to the place she is now, except for how much of her childhood was wasted due to her parents controlling behavior.  

Back Story: Parents wanted her to be a lawyer a Doctor, a nurse, anything if it was prestigious. As a child she went along with it, not knowing any better. Spending all her time studying to make her parents proud. She wasn’t allowed to hang out with friends, go do fun things, or really play at all. The closest thing she had to fun was on her birthdays when she was given a special treat at dinner. But that was it. Everything was decided for her and she had no say in anything. Including what her interests were and what clothes she wore. She started developing a deep resentment towards her parents when she hit her teen years. And started hiding things from her parents. Including the fact that she didn’t want to be any of those things. Her parents made her apply to every fancy school they could but when she turned old enough she bounced. Left for Monstera City. Shrunk herself tiny and slept in trees till she could get on her feet. She worked all sorts of jobs. Including being a stripper for a long while. The money was good and people liked her long legs. Since she could change her appearance a bit she was able to hide as a deaths head moth faerie in case her parents came looking for her. She took a couple classes at the local college just to try out different things. She was a Model for a while as herself after some years. Which did indeed bring her Parents out of the woodworks to try and bring her back home. By then Yra had a nice flat she owned from the money she’d made as a stripper. Didn’t like the toxic atmosphere and how the clothing designers tended to treat the models. She worked part time at a local bar and realized she loved everything about it. She put in the work and after 15 years now owns one of the hottest bars in town. Which she considers to be the best thing because it’s a huge F-You to her parents who cut her off and then thought she’d come flying back to them the minute she failed at what she was trying to do. She’s created a workplace that is safe for both her patrons and her employees and is proud of herself.    

Skills: Light and sound manipulation, she can shrink herself down to only a few inches tall, like all Moth and Butterfly faeries she can match her colors to whatever she’s next to to blend in with the background and essentially disappear. Making fantastic mixed drinks! You know all those fancy bartending tricks? Yeah she can do those.

Job: Owner and Manager of the Larkspur Bar and Grill.

Quotes: “No Fighting in my Bar!” “ Buster!” “Hey! No banging on the glass!” “You’re cut off. Have a good night.” “I AM the Manager! Now Get out and don’t come back!” 

Theme Song: Die Young by Kesha

#Virphyra #Yra #About Yra #About Virphyra #Pastel Goth Moth Fae #Goth Moth Faerie #Here she is #YRA IS HERE

[unbothered-anoai]

*LONG POST I GUESS*

Here's my 2 cents on the "whitewashing" issue in the Bad Batch that no one asked for. Personally, I don't mind that Clone Force 99 look paler than their regular clone brothers. Why? Because I distinctly remember that old sweet and incredibly brave 'defective' clone called 99 (oh hey that's their team's namesake go figure), the first clone of his kind introduced in TCW; the ‘defective’ kind that is, whatever the hell that means. And if my memory serves me right 99 was, holy shit hold on to your pitchforks & tiki torches guys, 99 was pale. Didn’t make him white though, because if you’re a brown person like me, you would know that brown people come in many shades. You can be light and there’s nothing wrong with that. But I digress. Maybe if you started looking at the defective clones’ paleness as a defect, then shit would make much more sense. 99 was pale and TBB are pale but They! Are! Still! Men! Of! Color! (Matter of fact, where was this outrage when 99 was first introduced? Because right off the bat I saw that he was paler than everybody else, aside from his more obvious physical defects. Ew that sounded ableist as fuck wow. I love 99 and I’m sure he’s in the SW equivalent of heaven.)

That isn’t to say though that there is no whitewashing in TBB. There definitely is. But not in the way you think. Their complexions don’t bother me, not at all. (Remember brown people come in many shades!) The facial features of two certain bad batchers does bother me. You know who I’m talking about right? Our boys Crosshair and Tech. Their facial features are all wrong. Therein lies the ‘whitewashing’. Why couldn’t they have just made them paler but kept the standard Jango face right? Those two don’t look like Mr. Morrison. Like, at all. It’s laughable. And don’t get me started on Echo. He was born brown. Where’s the brown skin, Dave?

Anyway, that pretty much sums up my thoughts on the skin issue in TBB. That being said, I’m not going to let all that get in the way of me enjoying watching the Bad Batch. There are more pressing real world problems that we need to address than a show that’s meant to be an escape from the real world with shitty real world problems that are real. Lmao. Peace. ✌🏾

#star wars: the bad batch #the bad batch #star wars #the clone wars #clone force 99 #I am well aware that there are gonna be some angry white people that are gonna come down my throat but idgaf #some brown people are pale karen #not me though #Not like theres anything wrong with being pale #none at all #and while we're at it can i just say how all the white girls that openly thirst on the clones peeve me #idk it all seems fetish-y to me #it doesn't sit right with me #that's a whole other post for another day though #imma split

[ecclais-fouoras]

Strawberry blonde

Chapter one: "pull me away at our doorstep"

Warning ⚠️ ahs 10 spoiler

⚠️ ahs 10 spoiler

"NO PLEASE I DON'T WANNA DIE ! MICKYYYY"

Karen had backed away as much as she had been able to into the door, pill in her hand she was acting on pure instinct, the desision was meer seconds to be made when she felt something pull her backwards and a loud slam, in panic she didn't even know if she was already dead. "WHAT TH- ?!"  "Shh" she was met by a hand on her mouth but somehow something in her told her that it was not a threat, she took some time to examine it, the hand was soft yet strong, masculine but in a woman's way.

"If you're quiet these dumbasses will forget you're there." She said as you let her face go.

A while passed before the woman made sure they were no longer on wondering around at your porch.

"Come on, let's get you up" Karen was pulled up to her feet by the strangers arm. "What were you doing out there I'm sure you know it's dangerous to be out with these creatures."

"Who...who are you ??"

"Oh right ! I'm y/n, y/l/n. What about you ?"

"Y..you want to know ?"

"Well sure ! I had you pined against my door usually I know the girl's name before I do that."

Karen was absolutely speechless, and even started blushing at your words.

"Relax that was a joke, you look like you just had the worst night of your life I thought it might cheer you up"

"Why would you want that ?"

"Why wouldn't I ?"

"Well look at me do you know how many people care about a homeless junky ? That's right zero"

"Well you can count one now"

"Oh please like that's true"

"Believe me or don't then but I'd still like to know who I'm talking to"

"I'm Karen, but everyone calls me TB karen"

You said as you went further in your kitchen.

"Would you like some tea ? Or coffee ?"

"No please don't waist your drinks on me"

"Water ? Juice ? I think I might even have a beer"

"But it's very late, I should just go find mickey"

"You mean the guy who left you to die on the porch ?"

"..H..he didn't...he gave...gave me this"

Karen showed you the little brown crumpled up in her hand. Suddenly you backed away and took the pill before throwing it in your fireplace.

"Have you ever taken one of these ??"

"No..I always refused who do you think I am ?!"

"Well I just know there are tones of people who get started with it now"

"I'm not like them, I don't wanna be like them"

"Good"

"I should really get going then"

"...oh absolutely not, you'll sleep here for the night don't worry"

".. I really shouldn't"

"Don't be silly I'm not going to send you outside with these monsters"

You walked in your house and opened a door before turning the lights on

"Here, you can set your things and take a shower. You're probably hungry I'll make you something real quick anything you'd like ?"

"I don't know when's the last time I had a shower honestly, I don't want to stain you're furniture."

"Come on it's a shower the whole point is to get in dirty and end up clean. Stay here I'll hand you a towel real quick"

"..well...thank you"

"No problem sweetie"

You came back with a few things, fresh underwear, a set of pijamas, a brush and toothbrush.

"Here, I'll get started on the food you must be starving"

"You didn't have to give me nightwear, I'm used to sleeping in this, it's good for the cold"

"Don't worry you won't need that here we have covers, and I'll wash your clothes too"

"You don't need to do that"

"I know but it's counterproductive to wear dirty clothes if you just took a shower don't you agree ?"

Karen nodded and slightly blushed.

"Come on, hop in the shower, oh also to get warmer water turn left, and colder one the other side."

She did what you suggested, taken the items from you hands, while you went back and started cooking, about half and hour later you heard Karen push the door to the kitchen, in the nightgown and pants you'd gave her, her hair was brushed, her face looked less pale than when she arrived, her red marks had faded a little, and only then did you notice how beautiful she was.

"Hey there, you can sit at the table I'll bring you your plate in a minute.

"Thanks again Ms y/l/n"

"Oh no honey call me y/n"

You come back with her meal, getting her a glass of water.

Immediately after Karen started eating, "oh...y/n you're a wonderful cook this is so good.."

"It's not much Karen but I'm glad you're enjoying it"

After ten minutes she was done eating, and offered to wash the dishes in return for your kindness, you said there she didn't own you anything and hospitality and care s was important to you. She nodded acknowledging your words.

When it was finally time to go to sleep you told her you were in your room if she needed anything and tl have a good night.

You laid in bed and couldn't stop thinking about the strawberry blonde head.

God what was happening to you ?

#sarah paulson fanfiction #sarah paulson characters #tb karen #tb karen x reader #Youtube

[toosweetfiddlesticks]

Can you do Bakugou x soft (male or gn) reader meeting a Karen and go creative with it hope you have fun

Big Meanie

Paring: Barista!Bakugou x Soft!Gn!Cashier reader

Warning: Karen being a Karen, cussing, bakujealous, Bakugou calling you a big meanie, not proof read

Catoergy: Comedy

A/N: Thank you for the request!!

Summary: boom boom man gets upset because you didn’t let him be the Hero of the day.

—————————

As you unlocked the door, you huffed a breathe of anxiety out and tried to build up as much optimism you could for your first day. You felt a mixture of anxiousness and excitement boil in you.

With a smile full of courage, you stepped into the clean kitchen. The lights contrasted and dimmed the already dark morning sky as you felt a cool breeze from an opened window. The hall was a bit dimmer from the kitchen so you turned those lights on for the rest of the co-workers. An ash halons hair boy was currently wrapping the store’s iconic colored apron around his waist. He tighter his grip as he caught a glismp of you.

“Good morning!” You spoke softly, but cheerful. You flashed a small smile but his demeanor did change. He held his solemn look at you when blood red eyes. “So...how was your sleep?” Your excuse of small talk feel short the silence in the air seemed to be even more awkward between the two of you. He grunted and muttered something under his breathe before speaking.

“Don’t forget to clock in.” He ignored your question which honestly, did not bother you. You took his warning and walked out to the time clock, punching in your time. Silence swallowed you both while once again. Ok y/n, your co-worker may not be the most friendliest, but hey it’s only your first day, how bad can it be.

”Also,” You head shot up from the time clock. Your co-workers back facing you. “Don’t talk to me, you boring extra.”

——————————

You began to start your third day shift with a proud smile on your face. As you made your way to the time clock to punch in, greetings of waves goodbyes from other workers thats shifts just ended, you’ve met made your start of the day feel even better. Humbly, you waved the two men off.

“Bye Kiri, bye Denki!” Denki giggly waved his hand in the arm with excitement as he happily walked with Kirishima.

“Bye Y/N!” The sharp tooth man cheerfully sang his farewell. His arm hugging around the shoulders of his shorter blonde hair friend. But before the two could fully walk out, the red head immediately turns back around, as if something just came to mind. “Also” he added, “watch out for the Karen’s.” Your head titled with puzzlement.

“The Karen’s?” You kept your question in your head and before you knew it, the two was gone.

But you shrugged it off for the day and continued to go back to work.

——————————

“Hey move it extra!” Bakugou’s voice arose from behind you like a sound of a hurricane warning. You huffed a little and stepped aside from the time clock. Tiredly, you twisted your body around and leaned against the wall, facing him with crossed arms. Your eyes dropped a bit and your eyelids cried to close. But though you body was ready to sleep, you were wide awake..kinda. You manage trying to hide your weary face. Holding a hopeful smile and you greeted Bakugou.

“Morning Bakugou.” There was a small chance he would really greet you back with a morning salutation. Today was not the latter. He’s body seemed a bit stiff, he’s face looked alive and refreshed, but his body slouched a bit. Turning his head to you, an eyebrow raised at you.

You stiffened a bit, you leaned off the grey wall with a feeling of astonishment  , “Wow that’s new.” A notion you told yourself.

Still, he said nothing, leaving you two both in somewhat awkward silence. By the looks of it, he was staring with bit of puzzlement in his eyes. He’s red eyes sparks with a look of examination. As if he was searching for a look, or scanning your farcical features like a robot. He was just standing there, arms crossed, eyes stern, eyebrows furrowed. It seemed like forever before you two said anything.

“Are you tired?” Bakugou finally spoke that shock you. You were a bit taken a back at his response but nodded you head. He grumbled something under his breathe and signaled you to follow him. “Come here,” he sighed.

You’re eyes widened, but you obeyed and follow. As you walked, you could hear his small mutters and talks but couldn’t understood a thing he said. He walked a little slow than usual, like if he was trying to make sure he didn’t leave in you in the dust.

The walk was short and you made it to the destination in no time. He groaned as you got there, the kitchen area. Your eyebrows drew with concern.

Backing up a little, you spoke “Uhm, look if you’re gonna splash me with water-“

But your cautiousness was only mocked by small chuckles that bubbled up in Bakugou as he picked up a plastics cup.

“No I won’t, ya idiot.” He interjected, “What’s your type of coffee, you like Frappuccino or somethin’?”

——————————

“Hey, Cashier Extra!” Y/N nostrils flare with heavy air leaving them. For the past three months and a half, you’ve been having to deal with one of the biggest meanies they had ever known in their entire life. Originally, you thought you were confused at times by him.

Bakugou Katsuki was one of the hardest people work with sometimes. It was like he had a whole book of mean names and rude comments. Or looked up how to send the worlds most bone-chilling stare. And after a long tiring day of work, right as you’re are about to clock out, you hear the small words “bye extra” leave his grumpy little pie hole. You wondered why his rude one point, then nice another.

Y/N briskly huff, straightening out any wrinkles or creases in your pale button up shirt. “Yeah Bakugou?” Y/N tried to give Bakugou the most genuine confusion on your face. Though Y/N didn’t find a lot great characteristics of Bakugou, but they knew that Bakugou was a smart man. He quickly caught onto their small frown creasing at the sides of their mouth and y/n bothered eyes.

But unlike usually, Bakugou’s face didn’t seem to get annoyed at that. No, instead, how facial expressions seemed to go down a little. Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed, from y/n couldn’t tell what was on Bakugou’s mind. He’s volcanic eyes seemed to be put out.

Y/N would almost say the usual solemn face of Bakugou Katsuki just broke away for a minute.

Bakugou caught himself, the dust of his volcanic chucked up as the lava came back into his eyes, keeping a stern look. Though Bakugou wouldn’t admit, Bakugou had definitely fallen for Y/N strong admiration for this job and their determination. He’d give them the compliment from time to time, but to wasn’t as much as he wanted to say.

“Just make sure you remember to clock in.” He mumbled softly, Y/N could barely even hear it. They nodded, a bit confused, but nodded and almost went on to work like usual. “Hey!” Bakugou stopped Y/N in their tracks, “Be cautious of Karens.”

The name still confused you to this day, but once again, you shrugged it off with a nod and carried on.

——————

This would have to one of the most crowded shift you’ve ever had, ever. If you were a customer, driving up into the driveway, you would’ve definitely drive straight out by the amount of people parked or in the driveway, getting their order taken their.

Bakugou, Denki and six others carefully rushed with the drinks, other orders holding up on the racks. Kirishima, Mina, and another worker kept up their the best they could, taking people’s orders from the drive through, then there was you and three other cashiers. You four had to take the orders as smooth and quick as possible, all of you praying that the customer will have a little bit of compassion and patience. Lines of people excitedly waiting to order the new drink the shop put out.

The Christmas Chocolate Winter Cream. Your new enemy, almost every single child, adult, teen, everyone was asking and wanting that “creamy delicious coffee”. Who even lets their child drink coffee! You didn’t want any part of it.

“Stupid coffee ice cream, its not even December yet!” You quickly grumbled under your breath.

”Uhm, excuse me?” You nearly forgot about the rush hour at work today. Hastily you straighten your spine. The customer was a lady, maybe in her late 50s. Her pale skin wore brightly colored pigment over its wrinkles and creases. Her hair was short but bumped up and curled.

“Oh I said, hi welcome to StaryBunkers,” You correct yourself quickly, trying to pass your entirely different words as the same, you grasp notepad and it’s thin paper in one hand, and a pencil in another. Forcibly, you gave the customer a fake smile that would impress the greatest actress. “What would you like for today. Behind your fake smile and your facial creases, you internally prayed with every god, deity, and goddess you know, hoping that they wouldn’t say..

“The Christmas Chocolate Winter Cream,” The older lady grasp her young daughter tightly that was so short, you just now noticed her. She seems to be up to her mother’s knees. “make that two please, today’s my girls big day!” The woman’s words didn’t invoke any feeling of excitement that usually does when some says big day to you.

“tHe cHirStmAs cHocOlatE wIntEr cReAm”

Your sighs of annoyance was held captive in the bars of your fake smile. “Of course!” Your forgery of cheerfulness impressed your cashier partners who’s fake smile was somewhat stiff and expressionless. “Birthday I presume?” You ask, the pencil’s tip close to the paper, ready to write.

“Yep!” The little girl chirped, her two brown pigtails swinging with you as she nodded her head. Ok you had to admit, the little girl was very sweet and cute. She single handedly made your stressful day a little bit better (ugh what a queen, we stan)

Your smile became more genuine, you heart even warmed a little.. “Coming right up, wait a moment please.” You paced hastily behind you, internally wishing you could spend you whole entire day in the back. You made your way quickly to the kitchen, hoping the customer were the patient type as you heard the shouts of anger coming from the drive through. You took a quick glance at the altercation.

“I SAID CHRISTMAS CHOCOLATE WINTER CREAM,” The customer aggressively yanked the the lid up. “THIS ISN’T ENOUGH CREAM!” The white and red haired boy calmly his hands out, trying to rationalize with the person.

“Sir, ” He spoke with dullness, “Thats how much cream comes with it.” But the customer only got even more hotheaded.

“NO IT ISN’T!”

“Yes it is.” Todoroki scrunched his face up, “You don’t even work here, how would you know?” Todoroki, unknowingly made the man even more upset which cause the drink from his hand to fly out towards him. You panic, rushing over there the close the door before it was too late. But, the man was quicker, and as the drink came rushing to a motionless Todoroki, a body came rushing in to take the hit, Kirishima.

“Brrooooooo” He said in slow motion. “Poor Kiri” you internally spoke with pity. And as the man ran away, kirishima’s stomach burned from the heat of the coffee. You cringed at the sound of his small whimpers of pain. “F in the chat.” You busy back to the kitchen.

The steam from the coffee makers brush against your skin, squeezing out a very thin layer of sweat on your cheeks. Quickly, you yelled.

“Two Today Specials for Cashier number UNO,” the Barista’s groaned, “AKA Y/N!” You yelled again for clarification. They, annoyedly, went back to work with the drinks again. The most pissed out of all them though was Bakugou. Not cause of the loaded day. But because everyone was going to “slow”. He huffed, panted, scream, yelled, intensely ordered and more,

The man was like lighting, filling up cup after cup after cup.

“Move your asses!” He sealed three cups and handed them to Mina, “Y/N stop wasting your time back here and work!” Your posture caved in, but you obey his command like a solider obeying their Sargent.

“Aye aye, Captain.” You sang jokingly. And while the others smirk and giggled amongst the stresss, Bakugou arch an eyebrow at your jokes and went back to work.

You happily went along to the front again to update the mother and the daughter about their meals. But as you approach them, you could hear the mother’s now bewildered voice. It was like cat nails to a chalkboard and her voice was crackly.

Her scream filled the whole place, putting a pause on the whole day. You internally panicked, not only can you feel the wrath of the woman from where you were standing, you could also feel the piercing and grim stare of Bakugou behind you. Once again, you we’re praying to gods, goddess, and deities. Praying that whatever is out there won’t eat you alive. Swallowing down your fear, you began to walk, with the feeling of it stuck down in your stomach.

Once you were in her eyesight, she swatted her daughters arms. And like a puppy, the girl immediately obeyed, handing her phone to her. The lady was obnoxiously grumbling words under breath as she pressed record. And with a large gulp she began her fit. You knew exactly what was gonna happen.

This..this must be the Karen they’ve talked about.

“SAY HELLO TO THE MEDIA!” Her voice sings with pride, “THIS PERSON MADE MY DAUGHTER WAIT ONE HOUR FOR HER DRINK-“ Your eyes grew with shock at the woman’s words. But before you could say anything, the cashier next to you, Deku interjected. His arm reached over to hover over your body as a means to protect you.

“Hang on now!” He argued. “You’ve only been here for three minutes!” You nodded in agreement. Pushing Deku’s arm up to cover your face from the camera.

“I’m sorry for the wait ma’am” you apologize, “But all you had to do was wait a couple of more minute-“

“DO YOU SEE THIS?” The woman ignored your remarks and claims, instead focusing on her own, “THEY ARE TRYING TO DISCREDIT ME AND MY NINE! YES NINE! YEAR OLD DAUGHTER!” She waved her phone in her daughters face like she was evidence. She waved, hopped, and dance around the counters and to other people’s table. “HOW CAN YOU PEOPLE DRINK HERE!” Her words and movements were melodramatic and over the top.

And after her little rant to the people, some of which left, she stomped her way back to you and Deku. This time, she had a nasty smirk on her face and a hot drink in her free hand she stolen from another customer.

“Ya know what!”

“Oh no not this again”

Hastily, you moved Deku and you away from the woman’s sight. You two ran into the back kitchen to Chef Ramsey Bakugou. Who was now even more pissed. Not only did Y/N make a Karen mad (ok he knew it impossible not to make them mad he’s just stressed). But no, instead of running to him, Y/N runs to Deku first?! Man’s got his priorities straight.

As Deku quickly runs over the back area to get his phone, you rush over to Bakugou and the others in panic. “Bakugou, call the police!” The others around quickly take of aprons and another things at the words of that. Police involved?? Yep they think a murder just went down. But Bakugou just grumbles and huffs.

“No.”

....

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO!?” Bakugou looks at you with bewilderment, this is his first time hearing you yell at him that way. But before he process the fact that a cinnamon bun is yelling at him, you began to grasp and shake at his shoulders. “THE LADY IS TRYING TO KILL ME!”

“WELL YOU SHOULD’VE CAME TO ME INSTEAD OF FUCKING DEKU FOR PROTECTION..” Bakugou fumbled and shouted through his words. “Y-YOU BIG MEANIE”

You two went silent after that,

Big

...

Big Meanie?

Deku came out from the back with his phone, “Shoto!” Todoroki’s head jerked towards his way. “Help me with the Karen!” Todoroki nodded.

————-

Finally, the situation was under control, the Karen was banned from the coffee shop, Mina and Denki gave Kirishima some aloe. And while things didn’t really calm down until the day was done, everyone seemed a bit less tense, expect you and Bakugou. For the rest of the day, he was knocking over cups, using wrong lids, and spilling coffee. Dude’s lucky that he wasn’t fire. He felt embarrassed by the way he reacted. Now Y/N probably saw him as some type of control freak. Tensions were high and he was stressful.

Bakugou quickly moved pass the others, trying to clock out early before Y/N sees him-

“Hey Bakugou” Bakugou internally groaned at the sound of your voice. Screw you plot device he said to himself. Bakugou turned his head to the side to face you. Yo he side view is lowkey cute you noted. “Could we talk outside, after I clock out?”

Oh how badly Bakugou wanted to say no. The pit in his stomach grew bigger as he nodded.

“Great, just give me a second” Bakugou nodded once again and quickly clocked out. He’s footsteps echoed in his head as he waited outside, leaning against the glass wall of the store.

He didn’t know what you were gonna say, but he had an idea of it. He annoyed you to no end, made things harder for you, and was never truly nice to you that often. How was he suppose to believe that you would like a guy like him in anyway? He internally frowned at his thoughts, the words eating him up and chewing him out only to get stepped on by the crushing feeling of doubt.

Once he saw the buildings door open with you coming out to join him, that crushing feeling of doubt covered and weighed down on him. This was it he thought. He shoved his hands into his pockets, readying himself for the painful impact of rejected.

“Bakugou..” you softly asked. Bakugou hmm’d at you with a feeling of shame boiling inside.. “Did you mean it when you said i was a big meanie?” Bakugou let out a sigh of pain.

He caught onto your words late, “Look I’m sorry for-what?”

“You called me a big meanie.” You mumbled, “and I was wondering if you were serious because one, you’re like 23.”

“I’m 16” he deadpanned  “Like you.” You ignored him though.

“and two, you’re the one who’s been acting like a big meanie.” You accused which wasn’t contradicted, “And all cause you like me huh” Bakugou opened his mouth to spew his defense, but nothing came out but a small “I”. He sighed defeatedly.

“Im sorry,” He spoke. “I just, didn’t know how to tell you or whatever.” He spoke so awkwardly and shy. “I’ll uh, I’ll leave you alone or whatever.”

You drew out a finger, objecting. “Hold on now,” you replied. “Who said I didn’t like you?” Bakugou’s heart sparked at those words, he lifted his head, red sparks in his eyes. “Hey what can I say? A big meanie like me likes big meanies too.”

#bnha x gn!reader #x gn reader #bnha headcanons #bakugou x gn!reader #my hero academia masterlist #my hero imagines #mha masterlist #mha imagines #mha x y/n #mha x gender neutral reader #mha x gn!reader #bnha fluff #bnha masterlist #bnha imagines #bakugou x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia x gender neutral reader #bnha x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou masterlist #bakugou imagine

[idiotic-genius]

Describing and associating color

First of all, it’s important to understand the associations people already have to colors, so here’s a quick general guide:

Yellow- Happiness, bright, sunny

Orange- Warmth, fire, jumpy

Red- Soulfull, energetic, boldness

Purple- Noble, rich, calming

Blue- Deep, mysterious, darkness / moderness, brightness, flying

Green- Nature, untouched, uncivilized / kindness, energy, daytime

Brown- Terrestrial, grounded, natural

Black- Nighttime, dark, peaceful/scary

White- Innocence, cleanness, pure

Now for the comparison of colors to things that are not a color but typically have a certain shade of one. That’s not only helping the reader to better imagine the exact color you mean, but also to subtly pushing their emotional state in a certain direction. If you e.g. compare someone’s haircolor to something pleasant, the reader will subconsciously like the character better. Contrary to that, when you compare something with unpleasant things, it makes the reader’s mind associate that thing described being unpleasant even though you didn’t specifically said it was. Here’s an exaggerated example:

“The walls were as green as those small plants you can buy at Ikea.”

vs.

“The walls were as green as that invisible algae that touches your leg when you’re swimming in a lake.”

If you read the first sentence in a room’s description, it would make you subconsciously think of it as cute and bright because you associate it to cute and bright things like small Ikea plants. However, the second comparison rather gives you an uneasy and oppressive mindset about the room described.

Many colors have overused comparisons, like green and emeralds or blue and the sky. If you want to use those, it’s of course okay and simple, but also consider using things not many authors use to compare colors to, because it gives you something special the reader will remember. It’s your choice if you want to make those comparisons funny, relatable, weirdly specific or just fancy and special. Here are a few examples of things to compare colors to for some of those categories that can e.g. use by writing “Their hair was [color] in a way that reminded me of [comparison].”

Weirdly specific/funny

Yellow- Pikachu’s forehead, the frenchiest fry McDonalds ever made for me

Orange- Trump, garbage truck that comes every tuesday

Red- Weasley hair, Elmo’s prettiest curl, Knuckles the Echidna

Purple- An evil Minion, that one tasty grape that’s better than the others

Blue- The tardis’ front door, that one pair of jeans you kinda like but never wear

Green- Kermit’s ruff, Mike Wazowsky, Shrek’s ears, Yoda but only in VI

Brown- Gumba’s shoes, Timon and Pumbaas’ supposed lovechild

Black- A cat with green eyes named Loki, Buttercup from Powerpuff Girls’ hair

White- Some paper you stare at in class because you don’t know what to write

Grey- Karen’s hair before she dyed it, my favorite werewolf’s fur at their neck

Rare/special

Yellow- A bumblebee, a daffodil, happiness

Orange- A lion’s mane, sandstone, a salamander

Red- Fire bricks, chili, imperialism

Purple- Heathers, summer rain, dusk

Blue- [random specific ocean], a swimming pool, an iceberg, space

Green- A post-apocalypse, mint ice cream, seafoam, the jungle

Brown- Ginderbread, cinnamon, walnut, espresso, syrup

Black- Leather jackets, charcoal, ravens

White- Winter frost, antique ghosts, bleached parchment

Grey- Evening shadows, summer thunderstorm clouds, sea stones

Next up is the description of the colors without comparisons. Here are some cool words to avoid cliche descriptions with by saying e.g. “They were dressed in [word] [color].”

bleached – very pale by chemicals/sunlight

bleak – gloomy

blotchy – patchy

bold – clear, strong in colour (thus easy to notice)

brash – unattracively colorful

brilliant – intense

clean – clear and fresh

cold – (a color mixed with) white, blue, or grey

cool – colours mixed with blue or green

delicate – pleasant, but not too strong

dusty – a color mixed with grey

electric – metallic (mostly blue and green)

festive – bright and colourful

fiery – very bright in colour (mostly red, orange, yellow)

fluorescent – seems to reflect light

glistening – shiny

glowing – seems to emit soft light

harsh – very bright in an unpleaseant way

jazzy – bright, colourful, and attractive

loud – ‘very bright’ as in ‘bad taste’

mellow – soft and warm

opalescent – seems to change color/hues

pastel – pale and soft

rich – strong in a good way

sepia – ‘old’, colors mixed with yellow-brown-red

soft – pale, gentle

splashy – brightly coloured

tinged/tinted – a color with another color hidden in it (e.g. reddish blond)

vibrant – bright and colourful

violent – so bright it almost hurts

vivid – strong, lively

warm – (a color mixed with) yellow, red, or orange

watery – pale

I hope this helps you guys to better describe colors and create associations for your reader through comparison :)

#writing #writing tips #writing prompts #colors #color theory #meta writing #prompt #funny prompts #writing colors #theory #help #description #comparison #association

[agayobsessedwithmurder]

Small town boy

runaway!mike au

inspired by @lilithisamess

The wheelers household, 1987

"Mom! it's Wills birthday! i have to go, dustin and lucas are busy this weekend and he can't be alone!" Mike yelled, standing up from his kitchen table.

"maybe you should have thought about that before joining that demonic cult." Ted argued.

Cult? are you serious dad?

"Mike, I know your bestfriend's and girlfriend's moving away really upset you but you can't keep acting out and expecting no punishment in return. Nancy's boyfriend moved away but shes still attending college, and not failing every class and skipping school." Karen scolded him.

Of course, bring up how nancy is better than me in every fucking way.

"You cannot talk about no punishment in return mom! i know what you did, or more like who you were doing!" Mike yelled catching everyone by surprise, but Ted was oblivious so just took a bite of the rotisserie chicken.

"Michael Wheeler! go to your room. NOW!" Karen screamed and made him flinch a little.

He started walking towards his room but hesitated to hear what they had to say.

"You should just tell him he shouldn't be seeing that boy, i never thought we would get rid of him. I tell ya he was changing mike, making him go through that phase." Ted said, not knowing mike was in hearing distance.

Thunder struck the outside of the house, just as Mike ran up his stairs. Once he got into his room he slammed the door shut and sat on his new queen sized bed in replace of his bunk bed he had whenever will would stay over.

Mike grabbed the binder of Wills drawings and opened up to a random one. He started flipping through the pages, tears falling down from his pale skin onto the artwork.

Shouldn't i be missing El alot more than Will? Shouldn't I still be mad at him for calling El st- no. i can't be mad at him. He's too precious, plus he was being ignored and it was the heat of the momment so i guess he had a reason to lash out.

I can't believe i can't see him on his birthday. hes going to be fifteen! Nancy can see Jonathan whenever she wants, it's not fair.

wait? Nancy seeing jonathan isn't like me seeing will right? because they are dating, me and will are just friends. yeah, friends. i need to stop overthinking my own thoughts.

I need to see him, but mom won't change her mind. Nancy wont drive me there.

wait. that bus stop! it goes to California!

Mike smiled, not bothering to wipe the tears that were stained on his cheeks and ran to his dresser. Mike grabbed a sweater that was always Wills favorite and grabbed some socks and converse shoes.

He put the socks and shoes on and grabbed his bookbag and put the binder in there, and a walkie talkie, and a red and orange colored wrapped present along with a picture on his nightstand.

a picture in two pieces held together by a piece of see through tape. a picture of the party on the Halloween mike told will they would go crazy together.

without really thinking he put the backpack on and opened up his window and felt the rain and cold air hit his face.

He held on tight to his window sill and moved his legs to the point were hes dangling from his window.

Mike jumped down onto the smaller roof and closed his window from there. Then he sat down, ignoring the rain pouring onto his body, and then jumped down onto the sidewalk.

He kind of was surprised it was that easy. He then walked to the garage and tried to open it but it wouldn't budge. "Shit." He cursed but decided he didn't need his bike, he could walk.

He started running down the street until he got to a certain distance. He pulled out the walkie talkie and set it to a certain channel.

"Lucas, dustin? do you copy?"

static.

"Lucas and Dustin do you fucking copy?" Mike screamed as he kept walking.

"Oh my god what is it! im hanging out with max." Lucas said through the walkie talkie.

"Okay, I'm going to be gone for a little bit, tell dustin, and max i guess that im safe. make sure my parents know too, but do NOT tell the cops I'm calling you. I just need to see someone, but i promise im safe so don't let my family freak out too much, or atleast nancy. Okay thank you, bye!" Mike carefully explained and turned off the walkie talkie and put it back in his backpack.

And with that, mike started walking.

Mike finally reached the bus stop just as the bus was getting there.

literal, great timing.

The bus' doors opened and he walked in, the rain dripping onto the bus steps. He said nothing but continue walking and sat down in a seat across from this old, sweet looking woman.

Mike looked down at the bookbag he took off and put in his lap.

I wonder how Will is going to react when im there. Do you think he's going to hate me? who am i even talking to? oh god i hope he doesn't think im fucking crazy. i just, i haven't missed one of his birthdays yet. im not going to let that happen, ever. I know friends grow apart but, but Wills diffrent. Me and him, we are different. On August 27th we will have been friends for ten years. I can't, i can't lose him. I wonder if he was kidding when he said he would run away with me to California, or a warm state. We did promise to do that, anyway. But we promised alot of things. Like that we would never have girlfriends. But I can't talk, i do have a girlfriend. speaking of el, I haven't heard from her in weeks. I should probably talk to her.

His thoughts got cut off by that sweet old woman. She was wearing a green cardigan with mushrooms on the bottom and a long brown skirt and a heart necklace with a rose on it. She had white long hair captured in a low bun and a leather bag that was open that showed a knitted blanket and a book. The bag had a few buttons on it and a knitted heart on it. She had wrinkly skin with light freckles on her face, she wasn't the societys definition of beautiful but she definitely was beautiful to mike.

"Hello pumpkin, may i sit down?" She asked. Of course, he said yes and she took a seat next to him. "So where are you heading?" She asked him.

Mike recalled almost all of the memories he had with Will.

"Home." He smiled. He noticed that was extremely weird without context. "Oh uh, I'm going to see a friend." Mike said. "It's his birthday, or it's going to be in a day anyways." Mike smiled.

"Oh hunny, that's adorable. Tell me about him, and how you got all the way here." She asked, obviously worried about this cold, distressed, underage, alone boy.

Shouldn't I not be speaking to strangers?

"I-im sorry i don't even know you." He said in the nicest way possible so he wouldn't get killed.

"Oh, no. I'm not trying to attack you, or anything darling. I'm just worried, you seem young and there's bad people out there. I don't want you getting hurt." She said, and anyone listening would have known she was sincere.

"oh. well his name is Will, we have been best friends since kindergarten, and I was a total jerk to him this past summer. and I need to make it up to him, I care about him so so much and I can't have him being alone on his birthday. he deserves better than that. I got into a fight with my parents and they talked bad about him and wouldn't let me see him on his birthday, so I walked about one and a half miles to here, just so I can get on this bus. I can't leave him, he's my cleric, after all." Mike spilled out his heart.

"wow, you seem to really miss him." She chuckled. Mike takes some seconds to answer, but then does. "Yeah, i really do."

"just from what I know, be honest with him. you really care about this boy, and I know you said you were a jerk but, just talk to him. I'm sure he cares about you too. and your girlfriend will understand, she cares about you, and your happiness but you can't keep lying about and to her. You know she hates that, and Will, will love his present." She smiled.

"I will, thank you...and how do you know all this, you're really good at advice." He asked.

She laughed and pulled up her sleeve to see her arm that had a tattoo on it. '003'

"holy crap." Mike whispered.

"or because I'm going to visit my wife for fifty years." She chuckled.

Mike was stunned, shocked at the fact people could be married for fifty years.

I think i understand how they could have been together for fifty years, if you truly love someone, you wouldn't hate being in their presence. maybe that's why.... maybe that's why my parents aren't that close anymore. or why it's so awkward when I call El.

And if mike wasn't too busy thinking, he would notice the sign they just passed, he was leaving hawkins.

#stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #byeler #byler #fanfiction #byler fanfic #smalltown boy

[evanthenerd83]

“Holly And The Demon And Lilah”

TW: Sexual themes, dialogue, and assault.

1

“Hello,” greeted the cashier. “What can I get you?”

She smiled as brightly as possible. A lock of brown hair tickled the side of her face.

She had both hands clasped behind the counter. A white apron covered her light blue undershirt, the buttons gleaming. The top of a waistband peeked over the rim.

Clipped to her left breast was a laminated name tag.

Angie.

A week earlier, Angie would have appeared listless, empty; one might have described her as being “dead on the inside.”

And “dead on the inside” would’ve been an accurate assessment. Given the only way she could smile, or feel anything, was by taking this neat, little green and yellow pill. A pill called Prozac.

Unfortunately for Ms. Dead-On-The-Inside, she suddenly found herself going cold turkey.

Many customers started to complain about her sullen appearance, dull fish eyes, and pale, almost translucent skin. Her voice, especially, gave people goosebumps.

The fear soon turned into anger. Retaliation was swift, brutal, and unapologetically American.

It varied from jerk to jerk. So-called “authors” named their worst characters after her. Women with strange haircuts and useless inessential oils demanded to speak to the manager.

A particularly pathetic subset, known as jokes—or “influencers”—among the general population, simply posted passive-aggressive death threats to their social media. These caught upper management’s attention. And cold, automated ire.

Her boss received a few emails. He promptly took her aside and, after locking the employee break room, made her an offer.

Improve her mood.

Or go out on a date with him.

After a quick call to her psychologist, and a swift knee to some overzealous gonads, her meds were refilled.

She reanimated. Her customer service record regained its composure. The tidal wave of complaints soon trickled down to almost nothing.

Almost nothing, as her boss whined to his poker buddies about the worst medical emergency a male could ever experience… blue balls.

Of course, the sixteen-year-old girl didn’t care about her mental health. She hadn’t come here for a sobering story of depression and sexual harassment.

She didn’t care about anything, for that matter.

It wasn’t in her nature.

“Mocha Cappuccino, please. Small.”

Angie nodded, tapping out her order on a newfangled addition to the coffee shop’s decor—a touchscreen monitor.

It made beeping sounds. The people behind the Catholic school girl groaned.

A lanky, bald man in a gray suit glanced at his wristwatch. He sighed theatrically.

The single mother standing behind him twitched and fidgeted. Withdrawal from caffeine. As well as the cocaine.

The saleswoman with a Me Me Me complex huffed and puffed.

The Catholic school girl didn’t pay them any attention. She was watching Angie tap, tap, tapping away.

Green eyes blinked.

She twirled a curl of blond hair.

Angie looked up, smiled.

“That’ll be nineteen dollars and thirty-eight cents.”

The Catholic school girl blinked again. She slid a hand inside her pocket, rummaging around.

The impatient businessman took another look at his wristwatch.

Karen glared daggers.

The single mother flinched as the three-headed, coal-eyed, fire-breathing kittens nipped and snipped, stealing the souls of children yet born from her ovaries.

“Here you go,” the Catholic school girl said.

She thrust a fistful of dollars into Angie’s face.

Angie continued to smile. She scanned the financial offering. Several tens, a couple fives, and way… way too many single-dollar bills.

Her face tightened. Sweat dappled her forehead.

Her friends (pills) worked their magic. Anxiety was dulled to a weak, whimpering voice at the back of her head.

And yet, it could still reach the megaphone.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. But we only take credit cards.”

The Catholic school girl simply plopped her assortment of greens and duller greens onto the counter.

Her voice came out clipped. “Here. You. Go.”

Angie wanted to alert her boss. Angie felt like something was wrong with this young lady, this girl in a school uniform. Nobody else would throw a hissy fit over using their debit cards.

Not the Karens who were close to bankruptcy.

Not the single mothers who, despite having nine-to-five jobs, managed to waste their paychecks on bags of white powder.

Not even the businessmen who’d gambled all their stocks on a short-sighted, obviously dead-on-arrival investment.

They all somehow paid.

This girl probably wouldn’t.

Angie was just about to call her boss’s name. She didn’t really want to. The events of last week flashed through her mind, and a fresh wave of anxiety drowned her thoughts.

But what choice did she have?

She couldn’t handle a belligerent customer. Certainly not while on her medication.

Her lips parted.

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH!!!”

A voice broke the silence. Angie leaned sidewise, past the school girl, and her lips clamped shut.

A boy was running up. He wore a black T-shirt over blue jeans.

His black hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed in forever. His skin had a deep red tint to it. The result of too much sun, perhaps?

Gray eyes locked onto the Catholic school girl. Fear and dread gleamed within them.

The Catholic school girl stared at Angie as the boy jumped between them, arms spread wide.

“Holly, Holly, please. Just pay the nice lady.”

Holly didn’t blink. Her eyes burned themselves into Angie’s. Not from white-hot anger, though.

No. From deep, dark apathy.

They were empty; devoid of warmth, kindness, any sliver of humanity’s better qualities. All that greeted Angie was something… else.

Something cold. Calculating.

Predatory.

Angie shuddered.

“They’ll only take credit cards, Dem.”

The boy—whose nickname was apparently Dem—looked to Angie. It was his turn to be shocked.

“C-credit cards?”

An eyebrow went up. His face went pale. Well, as pale as it could be, given the sunburn.

Angie nodded, tapping a sticker plastered on the side of the order-taking machine.

Dem squinted.

Dem went even paler.

“Wh-why only credit c-c-cards?”

“Ol’ Betsy,” Angie slapped the top of the Order-A-Tron.

Holly studied it. The monitor was sleek, smooth, with a polished frame of black plastic. A wire ran down somewhere.

It must have been new. It must have also been expensive.

It also lacked the traditional cash-register design. No money slots. No typewriter keys. Not even a receipt-printer.

She sneered. “Looks like a piece of shit.”

Angie smiled back. “Takes one to know one.”

Before Holly could leap over the counter, Dem wrapped his hands around her waist, then leaned back. Angie didn’t even flinch.

Dem grunted. He gritted his teeth.

No.

Not teeth. Teeth weren’t supposed to be so gray, gums should never be gunmetal black.

It was an orthodontic warzone.

“Why you little—“

“Holly? HOLLY?! Please!!!”

Holly tried to grab Angie’s collar. Dem managed to hold her back, but not without effort. Sweat dripped down his face.

The line broke into whispers, muttering, frantic reports to 9-1-1 personnel.

“Youth these days,” Karen shook her head. She retrieved a cell phone and opened the FamilyTime app.

The businessman glared at his wristwatch. “I’m going to be so late.”

“You guys can see the horns too, right?”

The single mother was gaping. Her eyes were dilated; completely black. Drool hung precariously from her bottom lip.

save them, whispered a nice, velvety voice

it’s easy get gas and dump dump dump, it hissed

wrap your babies up in their favorite blankets those tommy the truck and kitty klan and visie-bellies blankets you snatched sit around the house fire and sing a few songs, it urged

The single mother tumbled out of the line, legs stiff. She had left the building, both physically and mentally.

“LET GO, DEM! LET GO OF ME! SHE NEEDS TO BE TAUGHT A LESSON!”

Dem held on tight. “But your lessons are always permanent… and fatal!”

“F-fatal,” squeaked Angie.

“THAT’S THE POINT!”

Holly elbowed him. More specifically, she elbowed his chin.

Dem shrieked. He sounded like a little girl. His arms went loose for a split second, but that was enough.

Angie cringed as Holly did a backwards kick. Her sleek, black shoes struck her companion… er, caretaker… handler in the groin.

Another girly screech.

And he went down. Hard.

An opportunity. Holly sneered, then darted forward. Her hands made clenching and unclenching fists.

Angie stepped back.

Angie didn’t step back far enough.

Holly stretched across the countertop, reaching for her neck. Nails painted an ugly dull crimson neared sensitive flesh.

Wait.

Wait. Wait.

Her face. Those green eyes. Curly hair.

That Catholic school uniform, covered in dull brown stains—

A gasp, and Angie ducked. Her heart battered her ribs. Fear slipped out of its cage and slithered, grabbing the megaphone with all infinite mouths.

Prozac was overwhelmed.

A realization hit Angie.

A terrible, awful realization. Knowledge that numbed her mind like ice water.

She recognized her.

She’d seen Holly’s face before. From somewhere. From everywhere. In the newspapers. On the television. On billboards.

It’d been accompanied by a myriad of texts.

SPREE KILLER STILL AT LARGE

ARMED AND DANGEROUS

DO NOT APPROACH

DO NOT CONFRONT

IF SEEN, CALL LAW ENFORCEMENT IMMEDIATELY

Holly.

Of course. She was Holly. That Holly. The one who’d been trending online, argued about, regarded as simply an urban legend by few.

The Darling Death-Dealer.

A fugitive wanted for the violent and gruesome murders of thousands, maybe even millions, of innocent people. Men, women, and children.

A modern day Zodiac Killer, except a lot less cunning and more mass annihilator. And extremely lucky. A sixteen-year-old girl who had eluded the efforts of the FBI, the GBI, countless private detectives, assassins, the vengeful relatives and friends of her own victims, angry mobs, and the National Guard.

Angie understood the situation.

She wouldn’t call the police.

The building only had one phone. A landline. And that was located in her boss’s office. She’d never reach it.

Holly was not only incredibly lucky, but also fast. Incredibly fast. How else could she have jumped from state to state, from New York and Texas to Nevada and (now) California, without being caught?!

No use fighting back, either. Those who did were found in much worse states than those who’d been ambushed.

Angie didn’t like pain.

Angie simply closed her eyes and began to cry.

…

“Ahem,” someone coughed.

Holly stopped climbing over the counter. She glanced back at the source of the voice.

The demon lifted Its head off the tiled floor. It blinked a couple times before Its eyes went wide. It stood up.

It backed away from the thing that was standing behind Holly. It felt Its back hit a wall.

The thing looked like a girl.

A girl wearing a thin, white tank top and a short, almost indecent skirt. Her hair flowed. It burned an inhuman red.

Her skin was smooth. A pale that bordered on purity.

Her pink eyes locked onto Its own. They gleamed with what looked like condom-shaped sparkles. Millions of feelings rushed through them.

But it wasn’t a girl. A girl didn’t have horns, long and curling, streaked with glowing purple runes.

And a girl definitely didn’t have a tail. With a heart-shaped tip.

“Hello,” the girl-thing smiled. “Razzie.”

Holly glanced at the demon, eyebrows raised. She nearly had a heart attack.

Its face was no longer gray. Nor was it a light shade of red, or a dark shade of red, or even blindingly white.

It was nothingness itself.

The demon stared hard at the girl-thing. “Choke on Lucifer’s cock, Whore of No Virtue.”

Holly reeled.

Dem had just cussed.

Dem. Had. Just. Cussed.

Her mind slapped itself, feebly scrambling for the moorings that tied down its preconceptions.

No.

No, impossible.

Impossible. Dem never cussed. Ever. It hated cussing, despised it, flashed her disapproving looks whenever she uttered a curse word.

To make matters worse, a second realization struck, slamming right into her mental blind spot. She blinked.

Dem had just cussed at a girl.

At. A. Girl.

The moorings came loose. Her mind grabbed the frayed ends, feebly holding onto arrogant, bitter views. It also simultaneously dispatched a hundred limbs.

These limbs combed through the files she’d been collecting. Infinite fingers rifled index cards and photographs, and information was shoved under a microscope.

Said information was studied, re-evaluated, interrogated, beaten, tortured, and finally shot in the back of the metaphorical head in front of metaphorical news cameras.

False information. False information was not useful. False information led to mistakes and embarrassment.

Or death.

Holly watched as the girl-thing gasped in mock-shock. The grin quickly reappeared.

“Why, Razzie, I thought you’d be glad to see me.”

The demon spat at the floor. It had shed Its human disguise, horns sprouting from Its forehead, tail uncurling.

Smoke wafted up from the melting tiles.

“Go chug Cerberus cum.”

The girl-thing threw Her head back. A deep, rumbling laugh made the world shake.

She stepped forward, hips swinging. Her boobs bounced with each step. Holly wondered if She was even wearing a bra.

Probably not. Definitely not.

A flush of heat crept into her cheeks, and Holly bit her tongue. Pleasure doused the penny-sized flame of shame.

The demon stepped back. It raised Its middle finger.

“Aw, don’t be like that!”

The girl-thing pouted. Holly couldn’t help but notice that Her lips were full.

She suddenly noticed it. The feeling. The quaking from down below. Holly cursed herself. The blood lust awoke with a thunderous roar.

Now was not the time.

“Um,” Holly slid off the counter. “Sorry. But… who the hell are you?”

The girl-thing snapped Her head towards Holly, eyes bright like white phosphorus. Her lips parted in a hideous snarl, revealing millions of piranha teeth. A nailless finger wagged.

“THE GROWN-UPS ARE TALKING.”

Holly froze.

The girl-thing’s voice had changed. It was no longer high-pitched and sultry. It contained the depths of Her laugh. Only harsher.

Her body recoiled, getting into a defensive position.

A swift hand went for her pocket. Fingers wrapped around the handle of a switchblade—

“Oh, what’s this?”

The girl-thing held her wrist in a vice grip. Nails dug. Blood began to dribble upwards.

She was closer now. She’d shifted forwards, faster than light.

She pulled Holly’s hand out. She proceeded to squeeze. All of the muscles in Holly’s arm, as well as nerves and blood vessels, suddenly went numb.

The switchblade fell.

“Oh, were you going to stab little ol’ me?”

Holly took a deep breath. “No. I was going to stab your crusty-ass pussy.”

The girl-thing’s grin widened. Hunger swam behind Her eyes.

She looked her up and down, spying the skirt. The legs.

A diseased tongue emerged from bloody lips.

“I’d like to stab yours.”

She winked.

Holly surprised herself by squeaking, like a cat toy.

The quaking intensified. It was almost painful now. She felt the fabric of her underwear sticking to her legs.

What was going on?!

Why was she getting so aroused by… by…

The demon grabbed the girl-thing’s shoulder. “Let her go, you STD-riddled merry-go-round.”

It began to squeeze.

The girl-thing dropped the facade. She stopped grinning, Her face taking on the texture of hardened marble.

She released Her grip.

Newly freed, Holly managed to stumble backwards. She rubbed her bruised wrist. Heat flushed her cheeks.

Embarrassment and indignation.

She glanced at the demon. “So. Who’s this bitch?”

“I’d prefer,” the girl-thing scoffed. “Devil’s slut. Or a Night Lady. Take your pick, necrophile.”

Holly chose to ignore that particular insult. She had other things to “worry” about.

Such as how Dem knew the self-proclaimed Devil’s slut. That mystery kept nagging at her. Like a victim who’d slipped out of her reach.

“Holly… this is,” the demon pinched the bridge of Its nose. “Lilah.”

An eyebrow was raised.

“Lilah? Like… your ex-girlfriend Lilah? The succubus who slept with all your friends, family, classmates, bullies, teachers, neighbors—“

The demon sighed. “Yes. That Lilah.”

Lilah smirked. “Good to see I’ve got a reputation, Razzie.”

“What do you want?”

“Yeah. We were in the middle of something.”

Holly eyed the counter. She could hear sobbing and muffled praying from behind it.

She’d almost forgotten about Angie. Almost.

Lilah raised two fingers. They were both crossed, holding a crisp twenty-dollar bill. It was unnaturally green.

“I waaassss gonna pay for your drinks.”

The demon didn’t say anything. It simply stood there, not even blinking.

Holly was more than just confused. She was coming undone.

The way Dem had talked to Its ex-girlfriend. The language that It used, and the ease with which It flung all those insults.

They’d known each other for eight months, and she’d been operating under the assumption that It couldn’t be rude. Or crude. Or offensive.

She’d learned fairly quickly that there was nothing mean about Dem.

In fact, It barely resembled a demon in quality of personality. It seemed to love life. It would treat others with the utmost respect. It constantly sympathized and apologized.

Women were Its greatest weakness.

It allowed them to cut ahead of It in lines. It waited as they spoke, listening intently.

Holly felt pity for It. Or something she believed was like pity. What this feeling actually was… was annoyance.

Dem had always been spineless, whining and complaining. A coward. And worse of all, a simp.

But now?

“No way, bitch. I wouldn’t take your money if it carried the official seal of Mammon himself.”

Holly shuddered.

So assertive.

So aggressive.

The threat seeping past Its gritting teeth. The anger echoing in Its voice, a distant rumble.

She was nearly there.

She had to get there.

Her body quivered, pleasure overwhelming her nerves.

Her shame fritzed out. Like it always did.

A finger moved. It started to inch towards the Hot Zone. Her thighs slowly went numb.

Lilah was laughing again.

“Oh, Razzie. You crack me up!”

“You nearly cracked my testicles.”

The finger tasted warmth. Wetlands. Holly gasped for breath, hyperventilating, chest heaving.

Closer. Closer still.

The demon grabbed the leg of a table. A cup tumbled to the floor, contents splattering and sploshing.

Coffee hit Its hooves. It didn’t react.

“Leave,” the demon ordered. “Daughter of Mary.”

Lilah mock-grimaced. “Ouchie.”

Holly bit her lip.

Her finger passed through her skirt.

Her nail felt the first tease of soft fabric underneath.

And then—

She froze.

Her ears perked up.

Sounds bled through the walls of the Spacebunks. They were distant at first, but quickly grew louder. More defined.

She retrieved her wet finger.

She wiped it on the front of her vest. The stain was barely visible.

Lilah flexed her hands. Fingers transformed into spindle needles, nails sharpened until their points could not be discerned.

“If you want to fight, Razzie,” the succubus grinned. “I can always just #$&@ your corpse.”

The demon stepped forward. “And you called Holly a necrophile.”

Neither of them noticed that Holly had moved.

She walked over to the front door, opening it a crack. Summer heat wafted inside.

She squinted. Sunlight reflected off of windows across the street. Most downtown businesses were closed.

The sidewalks also lacked foot traffic.

Her eyes scanned the empty parking lot.

Well. Not quite empty. There was one car, and it wasn’t even technically a car.

The camper loomed at the farthest end, a sleeping monstrosity. It filled four whole spots.

Holly sighed. That big of a vehicle could only go so fast. To make matters worse, for some reason, she’d parallel parked it.

The sounds were louder now.

She dipped her head back inside. Air conditioning did wonders for her skin.

She watched as the demon and Lilah circled each other. Dem held a table while Its ex-girlfriend made a pose, claws unsheathed. They growled and hissed.

Demons had forked tongues. Which made the whole scene even more insidious.

“Be gone, slut.”

Dem’s tail shook. A rattling sound.

“Unzip your pants, boy-toy.”

Lilah’s horns screamed. A thousand souls begging for forgiveness.

Holly moved first.

“No time,” she grabbed both of Their wrists. “Gotta go.”

The mood shifted from violent to sullen. The demon tried pulling, but stopped when Lilah snapped at her hand. She missed by several inches.

It apparently felt foolish.

She did not.

Holly felt like a single mother leading her misbehaving children, embarrassed and exhausted.

“Why,” the demon asked.

It crossed Its arms.

They were flung outside.

“Because,” Holly ducked back inside.

The demon wasn’t very aerodynamic.

It wasn’t aerodynamic at all.

It landed on Its back. Lilah fell on top of It, though not by accident.

She rolled over. Her legs wrapped themselves around Its waist. A starving look came over Her pallid face.

“Well, hell-o there.”

The demon spat in Her eyes.

“Eat shit and die, cunt.”

…

Spacebunks was quiet.

It was also empty. The customers had all fled during her little outburst.

Holly glanced at a nearby door, a gold plate displaying the proud words ‘MANAGER’S OFFICE’ at chest height. It was closed. The underside stayed dark.

Nobody home.

Or somebody was on the phone. Either way, nobody would interfere.

She slid across the counter and landed on both feet.

Angie flinched. Her mouth opened. Holly smothered the scream with a single hand.

She knelt before the cashier.

“You recognized me… didn’t you?”

A nod.

“You called the cops…”

A shaking head.

Holly blinked.

She was empty. Her face, stone cold. Her eyes, dull. There was nothing inside of her.

Except for the predator.

Angie could see it. It stalked, fierce and strong. And vicious. It could see her just fine.

“Can I have my Mocha Cappuccino now?”

Another shake.

Holly sighed, flicking the switchblade. “Oh well.”

…

By the time Holly jumped inside, the demon could practically see the red-white-blue lights.

They flashed down the street. A cacophony of sirens accompanied them.

It stared at Holly.

“Is… is that a fresh stain?”

She ignored It, thrusting the key into the ignition. Her hands were steady and precise.

She was completely in control.

The demon had never seen her in a panic. The closest she ever got was when they’d accidentally crashed a bus into several cop cars. She’d gone completely white.

It couldn’t blame her. They were being chased by a pack of hellhounds, and the bus’s back window had been smashed.

At the moment of impact, a particularly hungry dog was snapping its jaws, swiping its claws, doing whatever a hellhound did.

Luckily for them, that crap-tactic slap from the Divine Comedian ended up going their way.

The demon stared out the front windshield. A fleet of sleek, black cruisers sped through an intersection.

A beige van was forced to hit the brakes, tires squealing on pavement. The windows began rolling down.

A pair of middle fingers—wedding rings glinting—were thrust into the air.

The cops kept speeding.

“Talk about public enemies,” It muttered underneath Its breath.

The engine roared.

Holly hit the gas pedal.

“Rotten bastards,” she agreed.

#evanthenerd83's storytime #holly and the demon #short story #urban fantasy #dark comedy #crime fiction #horror comedy #creative writing #original writing #february 2022

[spine-rat]

•JaviArthur•

hiii! this is something kind of short, and probably bad, but i had random inspiration and decided to finish writing this thing i came up with with @timeforafuckingcrusade4 a while ago<3

•pairing: Javier Escuella/Arthur Morgan, Karen Jones x Sean MacGuire (mentioned), Dutch van der Linde x Molly O’Shea (mentioned), Mary-Beth Gaskill x Kieran Duffy (mentioned), Abigail Roberts x John Marston (mentioned)

Characters: Arthur Morgan, Javier Escuella, Molly O’Shea (mentioned), Dutch van der Linde (mentioned), Abigail Roberts (mentioned), John Marston (mentioned), Micah Bell (mentioned), Bill Williamson (mentioned), Mary-Beth Gaskill (mentioned), Kieran Duffy (mentioned), Karen Jones (mentioned), Sean MacGuire (Mentioned)

Javier sighs softly, one hand gently placed on arthur’s shoulder, their free hands intertwined as they swayed softly. Javier had his cheek pressed against the soft fabric of arthur’s shirt, eyes closed as he relaxed the taller outlaw, the hand placed gently on his waist bringing him a sense of comfort he couldn’t quite explain.

Arthur hummed softly along to the music, Some cheesy, soft love song playing from Dutch’s gramophone - he wasn’t too sure of what it was. His chin was resting gently atop of the mexican’s head, his cerulean eyes also closed as he swayed the two of them gently. It was currently around 7:30pm, the once bright and scorching sun now sitting gently above the horizon, as though it was watching the outlaw and his mexican counterpart. pink and orange toned rays shone down on the pair, the light hitting javier’s tan skin perfectly at certain angles, making his already breathtakingly healthy skin glow. They didn’t get to spend time like this often, having to do jobs for Dutch, moving camps, typical outlaw stuff Arthur had grown up doing, Javier only joining in over the last few years.

Micah was staring them down from the other end of the camp, scowling at them begrudgingly. It was no secret that Micah was both homophobic and racist, though, beside from the occasional micro-aggression, he didn’t do anything - he had to keep up his good image for Dutch after all.

Javier and Arthur didn’t seem to mind, though; they were used to him, used to not being able to spend time with each other due to him and Bill.

Javier tilted his head, looking up at the taller outlaw through his dark eyelashes, to find Arthur staring back down at him. “hi,” he murmurs, a soft smile painting his usually emotionless face.

“hola,” Javier responds softly, giving Arthur’s hand a gentle squeeze as the two continued to move together.

Arthur had his hand on Javier’s hip, just above where his gun belt sat, the fabric of Javier’s vest soft against his touch. None of them had particularly good hygiene - they were outlaws, it was 1899, they had more important things to worry about - but Javier made sure to do the best he could, washing his clothes the second he swapped outfits to make sure they were still nice and pretty and in good quality, whereas Arthur’s pale blue shirt he practically lived in was covered in layers upon layers of dirt, the fabric turning more of a brown colour than blue. That’s why he and Javier were different, he was different.

The outlaws weren’t exactly in a committed relationship, they had feelings for each other; they both could admit that, however due to the period-typical homophobia and their busy lives, they could never live their lives the way Mary-Bath and Kieran could, or Molly and Dutch, Karen and Sean, even Abigail and John, and it hurt. It hurt more than either of them could complain, but it was times like this where they could be themselves,prove to each other just how much they cared about each other without having to worry about being caught, Micah and Bill were the only people who minded, but they didn’t care.

All the two cared about was each other. All the pair cared about was the man they both so deeply loved, the man each of them would do their best to protect - even if it cost their life to do so.

#rdr2 #rdr #arthur morgan #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #javier escuella #javier escuella x arthur morgan #javiarthur #writing

[alinaastarkov]

I don't think it's clear for you that Dany using a slave army means she's a slaver. She should have freed them rather than attack several cities, ruin hundreds of thousands of lives and unleashing a deadly plague that'll kill millions. The way her dragons ate children is just a small part of how destructive she is. I'll never forget how she refused the only ally coming from a Westerosi family and how she laughed at Quentyn Martell. She doesn't understand diplomacy or how to peace or make allies.

You’re right! It’s not clear for me because that is utter fucking bullshit.

Did you even read the books? Cause Dany did free them. After ensuring that the monsters who put them in chains, and would have killed her to continue their oppression, were dead, she freed all of them.

"Spears!" Dany heard one Astapori shout. It was Grazdan, old Grazdan in his tokar heavy with pearls. "Unsullied! Defend us, stop them, defend your masters! Spears! Swords!" When Rakharo put an arrow through his mouth, the slaves holding his sedan chair broke and ran, dumping him unceremoniously on the ground. The old man crawled to the first rank of eunuchs, his blood pooling on the bricks. The Unsullied did not so much as look down to watch him die. Rank on rank on rank, they stood. And did not move. The gods have heard my prayer.  "Unsullied!" Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. "Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see." She raised the harpy's fingers in the air . . . and then she flung the scourge aside. "Freedom!" she sang out. "Dracarys! Dracarys!" "Dracarys!" they shouted back, the sweetest word she'd ever heard. "Dracarys! Dracarys!" And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire.

One of the first things Dany had done after the fall of Astapor was abolish the custom of giving the Unsullied new slave names every day. [...] Grey Worm had remained Grey Worm. When she asked him why, he said, "It is a lucky name. The name this one was born to was accursed. That was the name he had when he was taken for a slave. But Grey Worm is the name this one drew the day Daenerys Stormborn set him free."

The raggle-taggle host of freedmen dwarfed her own, but they were more burden than benefit. [...] They ate the land bare as they passed, like locusts in sandals. Yet Dany could not bring herself to abandon them as Ser Jorah and her bloodriders urged. I told them they were free. I cannot tell them now they are not free to join me. She gazed at the smoke rising from their cookfires and swallowed a sigh. She might have the best footsoldiers in the world, but she also had the worst.

Yes, she bought them first. Why? Because she was explicitly told they would not obey her and continue to obey their slave masters. If she had tried to inspire them to kill their masters without buying them they would not have listened, and the masters would have made them kill her instead. So, she buys them, inspires them to kill their masters when they are no longer under their thumb, an opportunity they clearly relish in by the way, and immediately frees them so they can choose whether or not to stay or go and, if they stay, they will be free men with wages and rights and freedoms. So, she did free them, and them being free meant they were free to join her. And the sacking of cities was, surprise, TO FREE MORE SLAVES, IDIOT. She didn’t go to Yunkai or Meereen just cause she likes destruction, she goes there to free hundreds of thousands of men, women and children from bondage and end thousands of years of oppression.

"Mhysa!" a brown-skinned man shouted out at her. He had a child on his shoulder, a little girl, and she screamed the same word in her thin voice. "Mhysa! Mhysa!"  Dany felt a lightness in her chest. I will never bear a living child, she remembered. Her hand trembled as she raised it. Perhaps she smiled. She must have, because the man grinned and shouted again, and others took up the cry. "Mhysa!" they called. "Mhysa! MHYSA!" They were all smiling at her, reaching for her, kneeling before her. "Maela," some called her, while others cried "Aelalla" or "Qathei" or "Tato," but whatever the tongue it all meant the same thing. Mother. They are calling me Mother. The chant grew, spread, swelled. It swelled so loud that it frightened her horse, and the mare backed and shook her head and lashed her silver-grey tail. It swelled until it seemed to shake the yellow walls of Yunkai. More slaves were streaming from the gates every moment, and as they came they took up the call. They were running toward her now, pushing, stumbling, wanting to touch her hand, to stroke her horse's mane, to kiss her feet. Her poor bloodriders could not keep them all away, and even Strong Belwas grunted and growled in dismay. Ser Jorah urged her to go, but Dany remembered a dream she had dreamed in the House of the Undying. "They will not hurt me," she told him. "They are my children, Jorah." She laughed, put her heels into her horse, and rode to them, the bells in her hair ringing sweet victory. She trotted, then cantered, then broke into a gallop, her braid streaming behind. The freed slaves parted before her. "Mother," they called from a hundred throats, a thousand, ten thousand. "Mother," they sang, their fingers brushing her legs as she flew by. "Mother, Mother, Mother!"

And whose lives did she ruin? Slave masters, oppressors, men who viewed other humans as property. If she hurt anyone else it was purely by accident because she is a 15 year old girl who has had to dismantle an entire economic system and replace it with a new one. It is an insurmountable task that has never historically been achieved without any mistakes or harm coming to others. That would be impossible. So you must be complaining about the slave masters’ lives she ruined on purpose. Cause, yeah, she did ruin their lives on purpose. She did destroy their livelihoods built on owning people and kill a few of them because they were completely reprehensible people. And you know what I say to that?

Seriously, if you’re upset she killed slavers then you’re the slavery apologist, not her and not us. And are you now suggesting Daenerys caused the pale mare on purpose? Seriously?? Have you read the books? Do you have any idea how illnesses work? Read a little up on it then get back to me cause that suggestion is straight up ridiculous.

Her dragon killed (not ate) one child and her response to that was to immediately lock them up in a dungeon because she couldn’t allow it to happen again. Nice try, Karen.

Lmao “she doesn’t understand how to make allies”. Did you forget Xaro? Barristan? (And that was without even knowing it) Daario and his whole group of sellswords? What was marrying Hizdahr if not making allies and securing peace? There are more on this list. Btw, yes she laughed at Quentyn for a moment. And immediately after she stops others from insulting him.

"Fifty thousand?" mocked Daario. "I count three." "Enough," Daenerys said. "Prince Quentyn has crossed half the world to offer me his gift, I will not have him treated with discourtesy."

She also had Quentyn stay at the palace so they could continue to talk, only refused him because she was already engaged. And that marriage would secure her people peace and security in the present, where Quentyn’s offer would only help her in the future/ if she abandoned her children, which she was not prepared to do. Any idiot can see that she could not have “accepted” Quentyn’s offer even if she wanted to, and all that happened to Quentyn was his own fault. I love the kid, but his mistakes are on him, not Dany.

So, you’re full of shit nonny! 👏

#asoiaf #daenerys targaryen #does your arm hurt from all the reaching? #seriously who can read the books and come up with this? #still laughing at being upset she ruined slaver's lives #like i'm supposed to feel sorry for those bitches? #i DON'T #miss me with this bs #the dragon's daughter #Anonymous #neve has mail

[petersasteria]

The Forces of Nature || Ch.6

Pairing: Peter Parker x Superhero!Reader

Summary: “There’s this kid out there that can control the wind or something. I think she’s a great addition to the team. Let’s recruit her.”

SERIES MASTERLIST  ||  PP MASTERLIST

Click the pictures for better quality

After creating the list, Peter immediately went to the compound to show the list to the rest of the Avengers. They approved of the list and teased Peter about step 7.

"Oooh, Peter's getting a love life." Scott teased and wiggled his eyebrows. Peter scoffed, but his face was slightly pink from blushing.

"No, I'm not ready for spider-babies. Please graduate college first." Tony said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Anyway, as long as Queens isn't distracted by step 7, he can do it." Steve said as he gave the paper back to Peter. "Go and make us proud."

"Yes and you can't come back here until you've fulfilled step 1. Stop patrolling if necessary. We need all the information we can get: her attitude, her skills, or whatever random thing that can benefit this team." Tony said sternly as he looked Peter.

Peter nodded, "Yes, Mr. Stark. I'll do whatever I can."

For once in his life, Peter Benjamin Parker felt confident. Too confident. Starting today until he has the information he wanted, he'll be observing Y/N Y/L/N and what her deal was. It would be really easy because they have the same school. He was also glad that he could observe her after school. He was everyone's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, after all

When he was still dating MJ, he was able to pick up her ways of observing people. At that point, he was thankful that they dated and he felt blessed. Peter didn't follow Y/N around, no. He didn't need to. They both have the same classes and they sat next to each other on each one.

"This'll be really easy." Peter whispered to himself when he went to school earlier than Y/N. He went to the classroom of his first class with Y/N and waited for her. Five minutes later, Y/N walked in wearing a simple casual outfit. She was wearing light brown pants that were slim fit and a white long sleeved polo shirt tucked in with the first two buttons unbuttoned. Her hair was up in a ponytail which was loosely curled on the tips of her hair. She had a little beige kerchief around her neck which was tied the side-tie western way. She had her classic white Keds on and that necklace she always seems to wear in whatever outfit she's wearing. Her bag was a simple white tote bag with only a few things in it. She looked cute.

"Hi, Peter." She greeted with a smile as she sat down next to Peter.

"Hi. Nice outfit." Peter complimented. She looked down at her outfit and looked at Peter shyly, "Thanks. I didn't really feel like dressing up today so, I went for a simple and cute look."

"It suits you." Peter smiled at her and winked. She blushed and turned away with a smile. Peter brought out his notebook and pen as he started observing her. He grabbed a book and started "reading".

At one point, Flash went up to Y/N to ask for some help which she gladly did. Peter thought she was only doing it so that Flash wouldn't bully her or she was only doing it because she had to and not because she wanted to.

'She'd probably roll her eyes when Flash leaves.' Peter thought to himself as he kept "reading".

To his surprise, Y/N didn't roll her eyes nor complain. In fact, she still had a smile on her face. It was as if she was glad to help Flash Thompson. Peter didn't get it at all. However, he wrote it down on his notebook to keep track.

Throughout the rest of the day, Peter noticed a lot about her. Maybe he was the only one to know or maybe others knew too, but Y/N seemed to not have any bad bones in her body. She was perfect. Too perfect and that scared Peter.

"How's Code O doing?" Ned whispered to Peter after the last class. Peter looked at him confused, "Code O?"

"Yeah! Code O."

"What the hell is Code O?"

"The 'O' stands for 'observation'; code observation = code o." Ned shrugged. "How's it going?"

"I got some of it written down. I'll have to do more, though." Peter said. "I'll try to observe her as Spider-Man so that it wouldn't be suspicious." He added quietly.

"That's a great idea, Peter!" Ned said loudly.

"What's a great idea?" MJ asked out of nowhere causing Ned and Peter to jump slightly.

"Don't do that!" Ned clutched his chest and slightly glared at her.

"But I love it." MJ laughed. "Anyway, Y/N here has something to say." She looked at Y/N and gently nudged her with her elbow. Y/N cleared her throat and looked at the boys with a smile on her face, "My birthday's coming up and Eunice told me to invite my friends. I, uh, I don't really have that much friends. I actually only have MJ, but she said that I could invite both of you. If you guys could come, that'd be really really awesome."

"Give us a time and place and we'll be there." Ned grinned. "How old will you be?"

"18." Y/N said. "I have to go now. I'll see you guys tomorrow and I'll tell more details of my birthday celebration. Bye!" They all waved her goodbye and Y/N walked away.

Peter closed his locker and said, "I have to go too. Bye guys!" He didn't give Ned and MJ the time to say goodbye because he was already running towards the exit hoping to get a glimpse of Y/N.

One thing Peter noticed after that night at Y/N's house was that he lived near her. He didn't notice it on the train and on the way there because he was busy talking to her and taking a peek at the book she was reading.

Thankfully, he was able to catch up with her and they got on the same train going home. Y/N didn't notice him, of course. Her nose was stuck in a book again and Peter was glad that it occupied her. It gave him time to really observe her. There was not much to know about her while she was reading.

When they got off the train, Peter walked a few feet behind her. It was a little far but near enough to still see her. Peter quickly turned to the alley he always changes at and began to change in his Spider-Man suit. He webbed up his backpack somewhere and quickly walked back out to the street. Y/N wasn't that far because she stopped to buy some fruits from the little shop nearby.

He quickly swung there and to make a nice entrance, he hung upside down on her left. He signaled the owner to be quiet and they did. Y/N was too busy picking out oranges and apples to see that a local, friendly neighborhood hero was hanging upside down next to her.

"I love apples." Peter said, startling Y/N. She jumped slightly and she turned to her left and smiled, "Hey, I know you!"

"Y-You do??" Peter was nervous. He was pale under the mask. 'Holy fucking shitballs. She knows who I am! She knows my identity!' was all he could think about.

"Yeah, silly! You're on the news." Y/N giggled. "Spider-Man!"

"Oh, yeah!" Peter chuckled in relief. "Yup, that's me! Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!"

"Yeah." Y/N nodded with a smile. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Spidey?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that I always pass by here and I haven't seen you before. Did you just move here?" He asked.

Y/N shrugged, "Kind of? I moved here during summer. I'm in my last year of high school at Midtown."

"Midtown, huh? You must be a genius." Peter landed next to her perfectly and crossed his arms.

"Oh, no!" Y/N laughed and shook her head. "I'm not- I'm not a genius. Peter Parker is the genius, not me."

"Peter Parker?" He didn't know you thought of him that way.

"Yup! He's this really cute guy who's, like, super smart. He messes with me all the time, though. But that's okay. I forgive him every time."

"Why? Surely, he doesn't deserve that." Peter said.

"I know, but life's too short to hold grudges and not forgive. I love to give people chances." Y/N smiled sweetly at him- well, Spider-Man. "I admire you, Spidey."

"Aww, thank you!"

Y/N paid for her fruits and gave one apple for Spider-Man, "Here's one for you because you mentioned that you love apples. Think of it as a 'thank you' for all the trouble you went through just to keep everyone safe. Oh and don't listen to the Daily Bugle; you're not a menace."

Peter toyed with the apple for a bit and thanked her. Genuinely thanked her.

"I have to go now. Hopefully, I can see you around again." Y/N smiled and left. Peter stared at her as she walked away, kind of forgetting that the owner of the shop was still there.

"Don't let a girl like that walk away." The owner of the shop said. Peter looked at him and read his name tag, 'Stan'. Peter chuckled, "I don't even know if I like her. We just met, Stan."

That was a lie, but it was kind of true. Peter knew her, but Spider-Man didn't. So technically, they did just met.

Stan shrugged, "If you ask me, I think both of you were meant for each other. You look good together."

"U-Um, thanks... I guess. I'll see ya around, Stan!" He shot a web and swung to the rooftop of the shop. He ate the apple before swinging away.

"Hey Karen?"

"Hello, Peter."

"Do you know where Y/N is? You know, the girl I talked to earlier?" Peter asked, in hopes to find her.

"She's at home, Peter. Do you want the address?" Karen asked. Peter said, "No, thanks. She lives near me." He swung to her apartment and saw her bedroom window open. He could see her doing weird gymnastics stuff.

"She's flexible." Peter whispered to himself.

Observing her became Peter's routine. He didn't even notice that a month has already gone by and he already got the information he needed. As promised, he went to the compound after school with his list of observations. As usual, he was late... again.

"Next time, you'll buy donuts for the team when you're late." Tony said as he watched Peter take a seat.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark. It's just-"

"Zip it." Tony said. "Where's the list?" Peter wordlessly passed the paper to Tony and Tony read it.

Occasionally nodding, he finished reading and passed it to Steve who read it with Scott. After that, Sam and Bucky read it. Then Nat and Wanda, Thor and Bruce, and Clint and Rhodey. Peter got the paper back and waited for them to say something.

"What exactly do you mean by 'a follower, not a leader'?" Nat asked with a raised eyebrow.

Peter gulped, "Well, the teacher asked her to be the group leader in one of our classes and she declined. In fact, she said that herself. I just wrote it down." Peter wasn't lying. He could vividly remember it.

"Really?" Wanda said. Peter nodded quickly and told the story.

It was math time and Mr. Jones formed everyone into four groups. Peter was the leader of group one, Cindy was the leader of group two, and Mike was the leader of group three. Mr. Jones smiled at Y/N, "Ms. Y/L/N! Are you in group four?"

Y/N nodded and politely smiled, "Yes, sir."

"Well then, I pick you to your group's leader!" Mr. Jones said.

Y/N visibly frowned and everyone saw that, "Um, excuse me? I'm so sorry, sir. But I have to politely decline your offer. It's nothing personal. It's just that I'm really not interested in being a group leader for anything. I think that I'm better off as a follower and not a leader."

"Oh." Mr. Jones frowned too. Y/N was one of his best students. "Well, I'm kind of upset, but I respect your decision. You could just be the assistant leader."

"I'd be glad to take that position." Y/N chuckled.

"See? She said it herself." Peter said.

"What about the 'doesn't put hands on the ground' thing? That's kind of weird." Scott mentioned as the others agreed.

"I'm not really sure, but when I asked her about it, she kind of froze." Peter trailed off.

"Hey, Y/N!" Peter said during gym class. Y/N turned to him and smiled, "Hello, Peter."

"I just noticed something." Peter said coolly. Y/N motioned for him to continue. "Um, why don't you put your hands on the ground? Like, why? I'm just curious."

Y/N froze and her smile dropped. She immediately hid it, though. She let out an airy nervous chuckle and said, "Oh, that? I, uh, I-I have this thing with, um..."

"With what?" Peter raised an eyebrow.

"With dirt?" Y/N said that sounded more like a question. She grinned and said, "Yes! I-I have this thing with dirt! I don't like dirt. I could only put my hands on the ground if there's a towel or something separating my hands from the ground."

"Oh... okay." Peter eyed her suspiciously, but brushed it off.

"I have a hunch that it has something to do with her powers." Peter said. "My Spidey senses are telling me that."

"Okay, then." Clint said. "These random stuff are so nature related."

"I know right!" Rhodey nodded in agreement. "Maybe our guess is right- maybe she can control all four elements. It's not that far-fetched if you think about it."

"That's true." Steve said. "Well, let's move on to the next step!"

"What's the next step?" Tony asked and looked at Peter.

"Step two is befriending her. I don't know how to do that and how close should we even be?" Peter asked.

"Close enough for you to bring her here and to your apartment." Tony chuckled.

"My apartment?!" Peter shrieked. "Why?!?!"

"That's what friends do, right? They invite them to their home?" Tony asked with furrowed eyebrows. "What was on your mind, Peter?"

Peter blushed and shrugged, "N-Nothing. I just wanted to make sure I heard it right."

"OH MY GOD. HE WAS THINKING OF SEX." Scott gasped and laughed.

"AHH, YES!! MATING SEASON IS UPON US!!" Thor said loudly. "The young spider boy will mate with his lady friend and they shall have spider babies!"

"Thor, no." Tony said sternly. "Trust me. All of us aren't ready for that."

"My apologies." Thor said. "It's mating season in Asgard at the moment. Asgardians make cute babies."

Peter's eyes widened as he looked at everyone now talking about sex.

"I remember my first time." Scott said. Clint nodded along, "Same here. It was awkward."

"I was once a playboy, so yeah. Eat that, bitches." Tony boasted.

"Can we- Can we talk about something else?" Steve asked as he cleared his throat.

"Why? A little shy, Cap?" Sam teased. "When was your first time?"

"I prefer not to answer that." Steve said sternly. Everyone laughed except for Peter.

"Oh my god. What have I gotten myself into?" Peter asked himself.

"Because you love us, silly." Wanda said and chuckled before joining the conversation. Peter smiled to himself as he looked at everyone having a laugh and sharing their first times.

"Yeah." Peter said softly to himself. "I do."

* * * *

yeet his recruiting is starting

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @myblueleatherbag @harryismysunflower @buckys-little-hoe @justanothermarvelmaniac @itstaskeen​ @sandystoriess​ @heeeyitskay​ @slytherin-chaser​ @quaksonhehe​ @yaya4302​

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell​ @justasmisunderstoodasloki​ @rubberducky-jrr​ @petersholland​ @osterfieldnholland​ @miraclesoflove​ @god-knows-what-am-i-doing​ @perspectiveparker​ @hollands-weasley​ @itstaskeen​ @call-me-baby-gir1​ @the-panwitch​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @chloecreatesfictions​ @holland-styles​ @halfblood-princess-505-deactiva​ @spidey-reids-2003​ @herbatkazmiloscia

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

[murdcck]

𝐀  𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘  𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄  𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄  𝐎𝐅  𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄.  repost with the information of your muse,  including headcanons,  etc.  if you fail to achieve some of the facts,  add some other of your own !

NAME: matthew michael murdock.

NICKNAMES: red, horned idiot, magoo, dipshit. he has many.

AGE: timeline in the comics is crazy. but i go with 29 at start of season one.

SPECIES: human, but.. superhuman senses.

GENDER:  cis male.

ORIENTATION:  Bisexual.

INTERESTS:   old record players, boxing, piano, beating people unconscious, religion, LAW AND ORDER BITCHES

PROFESSION: defense attorney / vigilante. later becomes a parole officer when he’s barred from law, but… that’s in 616.

BODY TYPE:   matt is a master in many martial arts/fighting techniques, but he started out in boxing. but his body type? is actually fairly leaned and toned, making for quicker movements. one minute he could be fighting with his batons, martial arts displayed, but next he’ll be boxing like some burly man in an unground ring. 

EYES:  some mild scarring around the eyes, scars silvered with age. but his eyes are a pale/milky color due to the chemicals. they used to be a comforting brown.

HAIR:   his hair is a dark auburn color. it has some curl to it if he doesn’t comb it or keep it cut short.

SKIN:  pale, freckled, and… very scarred, lol.

HEIGHT: OKAY IN THE COMICS HE’S 6′0″. but i’m going with charlie cox’s height which is 5′10″.

COMPANIONS:   karen & foggy. occasionally bugs the shit out of father lantom. maggie.

ANTAGONISTS:  bullseye, fisk, sometimes everyone, and the list goes on. OH FRANK FUCKING CASTLE.

CHARACTER TROPES: contender ??, loner, loyalist, mccoy, seeker.

ABILITIES:   superhuman senses, smell, touch. skilled acrobat, martial artist, boxer. PARKOUR. uh, i mean, i have a somewhat detailed list in his about page.

COLORS: red, black, yellows ( color of his father’s boxing robe ).

FRUITS: matt loves any kind of fruit. but it has to be organic. he’ll drag foggy out to the farmer’s market where everything is fresh. he can taste where the fruit comes from, what soil they used, the hands that touched it. he has to wash them THOROUGHLY before he eats them. he loves to put his mandarins in the freezer to get them COLD. it’s a good treat.

DRINKS:  water, HAS A VARIETY of tea, coffee, wine.

SCENTS: the smell of orchids. cardamom. coffee beans. blood. fresh linen. 

tagged by : @hercbled tyyy! <3

tagging :    allll of youuu.

#ch. study |「 THE DEVIL'S GOT NOTHING ON ME MY FRIEND 」 #memes |「 THE DEVIL'S IN THE DETAILS 」

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Penny and Scamp chapter 3

875 newly named Scamp finally gets to reunite with his beloved other half when he and his Miss visit him in the hospital. 

Thank you so much @finder-of-rings for proofreading this <3

The whole guard dog concept was developed by the amazing @moose-teeth

Also Karen Renford is one of many amazing characters created by the awesome @ashintheairlikesnow

Taglist:  @eatyourdamnpears @whumpsblog (I hope I didn’t forget anyone)

CW: mention of arm amputation, mention of self-injury, Karen Renford mentioned, restrained to the bed

875 followed Miss Adelaide past the hospital's reception desk, still clad in black shorts and a white shirt. A shock collar sat tightly buckled around his neck.

It kind of felt like he was still wandering the facility halls except that the hospital bustled with life.  Nurses scurried over the floor, talked to visitors waiting in plastic chairs or leaned against walls. People holding flowers knocked on white doors and followed patients around. He nearly expected a handler to step out from behind one of them and drag him back into his cell.

Glancing at his owner’s back, he reminded himself that he wasn’t a trainee anymore. He was someone’s pet now. An identity beyond number and barcode. His name was Scamp and he belonged to Miss Adelaide Tormadosa. Together with his beloved. Penny.

A befitting name for his love, with his wild copper curls and a smile that would never let Scamp forget how lucky he was to be alive. If only Penny himself had an ounce of the luck he brought him.

Instead he ended up in a hospital bed robbed of the last shred of bodily autonomy and his right arm.  Taken away by a blizzard wrapped in human flesh. Karen Renford was a devilish force raging and tearing one's soul apart until she left nothing but a hollow ruin in her wake, held up solely by pillars made of barcode stripes and fear.

“Calm, now.” Miss Adelaide said and it was only then that Scamp realized how badly his hand shook on the hospital room's door handle.  Concern had wormed itself deep into Scamp's brain, traveled down to his lungs and nested in his heart, made it difficult to breath, to form any thought beyond:

Please. God please let him be okay.

But God didn’t listen to boxboys or dogs, after all, prayers were reserved for people. And Scamp already knew that Penny was as far from okay as he’d ever been before, during even their harshest of training sessions.

Miss Adelaide explained what had happened as they drove from the facility directly to the hospital. She’d told him that Karen Renford had ordered the amputation of Penny’s arm after he’d poured boiling water over it during domestic training. Why he did that was anyone’s guess. That Renford's order to cripple a disobedient boxboy had nothing to do with medical necessity and everything with punishment, however, was obvious even to Scamp.

Bracing himself, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

Golden rays of dying evening sun filtered through grey blinds into the small room. It painted golden stripes onto perfectly whitened stiff hospital sheets and fell upon Penny’s waxen face, setting his hair afire. A bleeding halo fanning out over white pillows. Scamp need no god if divinity incarnate lay here before his very eyes.

Miss Adelaide waited in the doorway as he stumbled towards the bed, knees nearly giving out.

“Hey, hi. I am here. I am here now.”

Scamp's voice shook even more than his fingertips as he traced them over Penny’s cheek, caressed a tiny cluster of freckles right over his cheekbone and ghosted feather light touches over closed eyelids. Penny’s long red lashes tickled his fingers but remained closed. Dark shadows had settled under them. His breathing was slow, in sync with the steady beeping of the vital-signs-monitor as he lay motionless like a doll.

Scamp bit his lip in order to keep it from trembling and turned to his owner, desperate for her help.

 “Why is he not waking up? Please Miss Adelaide. Please make him wake up.”

Something in her eyes softened as his voice broke and she nodded towards the reception desk with a smile. “I’ll go and get a nurse to come and check on him. You stay here.”

“Yes Miss.”  Even though being separated from his owner made Scamp’s stomach churn with unease, he was determined to obey and put a hand on Penny’s shoulder in reassurance, for his other as much as for himself. Penny’s presence grounded him as his Miss vanished down the hall, closing the door behind her.

Scamp's eyes were back on his beloved as soon as it clicked shut. Wiping tears from his face with one hand he began to gently untangle soft curls with the other, careful not to pull or twinge. 

The door opened right after he smoothed out the last tangle of unruly hair, and Miss Adelaide followed a portly short woman into the room. She carried a scanner in one deft hand and a tablet in the other. Silvery brown hair was held out of her wrinkly face by a loose bun and her blue eyes lit up with warmth as she spotted Scamp, who immediately tensed as she stepped closer to Penny’s bed.

“Scamp, behave.”

Miss Adelaide’s voice cut through the silent room sharp like a whip and made Scamp flinch like he’d been struck with one. A little whine escaped his lips while his eyes snapped from the nurse to his owner, who fixed him with an expression brooking no argument. Grinding his teeth, Scamp stepped back from the bed and let the nurse take his place. He watched with shaking fists as she put her equipment on the bedside table and pulled Penny’s blanket aside in practiced motions.

“Don’t worry,” she said, a knowing smile in her voice. “You’re friend’s gonna be fine. He’s just tired ‘n needs rest now.”

“What- How,” Scamp clenched and unclenched his fists. The urge to pull her away from Penny and the need to ensure that he was taken care of properly fought a war in his twitching muscles. Conditioned reflex collided with common sense. He swallowed his training down a sore throat and trusted in Miss Adelaide’s command to behave himself. “How do you know that?”

“Cause we have excellent staff,” the nurse said warmly.

The tablet lit up with the scanner's little beep and revealed Penny’s clinical data as the nurse scanned in his barcode. That was when Scamp saw it. A thick padded cuff was buckled around Penny’s fine boned wrist and fixed him to the bed frame. His other arm, or rather what remained of it had been wrapped in a thick blue cast barely reaching to his ribs. It looked unreal, wrong, as if a too tiny blue puppet limb had been attached to his body. Scamp vision swam at the thought of what was hidden underneath it. 

Behave. Obey Miss Adelaide and behave! The nurse will not hurt him.

The pain in his palms where short sharp nails dug in grounded him enough to help him stay planted in his spot behind the nurse. He was a crossbow pulled tight and frozen in place at the cusp of tension.

Miss Adelaide stepped closer, peering onto the bed. “Why is he restrained?”

“Oh that silly boy.” Concern shadowed the nurse’s face as she tucked Penny back in and petted gently over his blanket. “He ripped the IV for his pain medication out of his arm. We had to restrain him ‘n double the dosage to get the pain back under control.”

Heat swirled in Scamp’s stomach, crashed through his insides in sickening and searing waves as he pushed the nurse aside. Wide tear bright eyes searched his beloved’s sleeping face while he leaned closer.

“Why?”

Shaking lips found a warm forehead and planted tiny kisses onto pale skin. Little seeds of love he prayed would sink down and take root in Penny’s heart.

“Why?”

“We don’ know, honey.” The nurse’s firm hand squeezed Scamp's shoulder and an understanding passed between them that stopped his impulse to throw her against a wall dead in its tracks. The heat clogged his throat now, a heavy clump of emotion he couldn’t swallow down.

Withdrawing her hand, the nurse reached for the roller clamp on Penny’s IV tube. “But I’m gonna lower his dosage a bit so he’ll come to soon.”

Miss Adelaide stepped aside as the nurse moved towards the door and nodded her appreciation. “Thank you. One question before you leave. How long will it take for him to wake? I don’t have-“

“Between 30 minutes and two hours.” The nurse turned at the door frame, a knowing twinkle in her eyes as she caught sight of Scamp's worried expression. “I’ll bring you both some tea while you wait.”

“I-,“ Miss Adelaide began but the other woman had already hurried down the hall. Scamp watched his owner anxiously plop down onto one of the room’s plastic chairs with a loud huff. She fished a phone out of her coat pocket and muttered, “Never argue with nurses.”

Scared he’d somehow angered her already, Scamp began to count the freckles on Penny’s face. There were 68, exactly. He had memorized them all, traced every single one in the countless hours they had been trapped together in a white room, but he was too afraid to meet his owner’s eyes so he counted them yet again for lack of anything else to calm his growing nerves.

The nurse returned with two steaming plastic cups as he reached freckle number twenty-five, on the bridge of Penny’s nose.

Miss Adelaide, in fact, did not look angry as she plugged the cup from the nurse’s hands. A bit bored maybe, but not angry. A breath escaped Scamp he didn’t know he had been holding and he dared to ask for her permission to take the offered tea from the nurse.

Miss Adelaide blessed him with one of her pleased smiles as he bowed in a perfect 90 degree angle and mumbled, “Please Miss Adelaide, may I take the cup and drink?”

“Good boy. You may.”

It was just as he lifted the cup to his smiling lips that a low rasp made him swirl around and spill some of the hot liquid over his hands. He couldn’t care less about his scalded skin though, not when Penny’s brown eyes blinked up at him and a lopsided smile played around his chapped lips.

“Oh wow. The drugs they’ve got here are truly something else.”

A pale trembling hand reached up from under the blankets as high as the restrains allowed, the smile on Penny’s face faltered. “Or are you really here?”

“I am.” Scamp took Penny’s hand in both of his. “I am here.” The kisses he pressed to Penny’s knuckles were wet with tears. “I am here. I am here.”

“Yeah.” Penny massaged gentle circles into Scamp's hands, unable to keep his trembling lips from smiling as he tried to lift his head from the pillows, straining closer to his love. His eyes were glazed with unshed tears and his warm voice shook as he teased.  “Only the real you is such a crybaby.” 

Scamp couldn’t help but snort, whole face lighting up.

“Well, look at that. One eye open and already cracking jokes.” Miss Adelaide had stood from her chair and stepped behind Scamp, one hand ruffling his black hair. “Your friend’s one tough cookie.”

“Yes.” Scamp puffed his chest out under the praise, beaming down at Penny with flushed cheeks. “I may be the muscle but he is the heart.”

Penny buried his bright red face into his pillow, unable to stop a smile from spreading over his face. “You sap.”

Neither him nor Scamp noticed Miss Adelaide’s mouth twist into a shark-tooth grin.

“I see.”

chapter2

chapter4

#boxboy #boxboys #guard dog box boy #pet whump #whump #whump writing #bbu #boxboy universe #penny and scamp #penny and scamp series #bonded pair #hospital whump #karen renford #karen is a monster #guard dog #WRU #wru the series #box boy #box boys #box boy universe #boxboy multiverse #tw amputation mention #god these two fools are so in love

[madasthesea]

A Far Green Country

Suggested listening: (x) (x)

“FRI, how’s the kid doing?” Tony asked when he had a moment to breathe between killing aliens.

“Peter’s heart-rate is high, Boss, and he hasn’t moved in almost a minute,” FRIDAY reported.

“Is he hurt?”

“Karen isn’t reporting any injuries.” Well, that was something, at least.

“Patch me into his baby monitor feed, just the audio,” Tony ordered, eyes still scanning the battlefield in front of him.

“You’re... you’re going to be ok,” Peter was assuring someone, his voice shaking. Tony’s heart plummeted.

“You’re pretty new at this, huh?” said a female voice. Her words were thick with pain. “I’m a nurse, Spidey. I know what a fatal wound looks like.”

“FRI, give me Karen’s analysis of her injuries,” Tony muttered. Instantly, a chart pulled up on Tony’s HUD, flashing red in all the areas she was hurt. There was a lot of red. A broken spine, broken collarbone, one leg pinned with rubble, and the worst part, a long splinter of wood piercing her abdomen, perforating her large intestine.

She was right. She was going to die.

“Hey, don’t say that,” Peter chided gently. He had the same diagnosis Tony did. “What’s your name?”

“Nicole,” she said. Tony dove toward a rogue alien, blasting it with both repulsors. Black Widow sprinted past him, a pack of the creatures chasing her; Tony twisted in midair and followed, picking them off one by one.

“Nice to meet you, Nicole. I’m Spi—I’m Peter.” Tony squeezed his eyes closed for a brief moment. Peter would never compromise his identity, not if he knew there was any chance of her getting out of this alive.

Nicole seemed to realize it, too, because she let out a small sob.  

“You-you have to tell my fiancé, ok? Jonathan. He, uh, he’s got brown hair and-and glasses, and you have to tell him.” Her voice broke.

Tony mechanically dodged an attack, blocked a hit meant for Sam. His mind was with Peter, in whatever devastated apartment he was crouched in with a dying woman.

“I will,” Peter vowed. He sniffled and Tony swallowed hard. He wanted to go and find Peter, pull him away from the scene so he didn’t have to see this. No one should have to watch someone die. But he couldn’t. Peter would never forgive him from depriving Nicole some comfort in her last moments.

“Give him this. He... won’t believe you otherwise.”

“This is the Evenstar. From Lord of the Rings.”

There were only a handful of aliens left. Tony landed by Steve, helped him with a small herd of them.

“Yeah, he got it for me at comic-con. Where we met,” Nicole said, chuckling breathlessly, only to cut off in a small cough. “So, Spider-Man’s a nerd?”

“The biggest,” Peter assured her, and Tony could picture the reassuring smile he would be giving under his mask, the way his eyes would be filled with tears.

“Good. Te-tell him that I’m going to a far, green country.”

Peter sobbed. “Ok. Ok.”

“You crying for me?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, unashamed.

There was a small moment of quiet, where she seemed to comprehend the importance of a superhero, kneeling at her side, crying for her loss. “Thanks, Peter,” Nicole whispered.

Peter hiccuped again.

“Don’t you have some aliens to be fighting?” she asked.

Tony had to stop himself from cutting in, from telling Peter that they were done, that Clint and Sam were taking care of the last couple right now. That Peter shouldn’t leave her.

“I can stay. It’s alright,” Peter assured her. Because he never would have left. Not when someone needed him.

Nicole whimpered, her tears audible through Peter’s comm. “Thanks, Spidey.”

Tony listened as her breathing quickly got worse, as she started gasping in pain. Peter gently shushed her, reminding her that he was there.

“Squeeze my hand as hard as you need, ok? It won’t hurt me.”

There was the sound of wet coughing, interspersed with pain-filled cries.

“Hey, Karen,” Peter said quietly. “Play “A Far, Green Country” from my study playlist.”

“Of course, Peter,” Karen replied sympathetically.

Soft cello music began to filter through Tony’s earpiece. He stood still, watching in a detached sort of way as ambulances and firetrucks started arriving to the scene of the battle, as people began to peek out of their hiding places.

“Hear that, Nicole?” Peter asked. “Just focus on the music, ok? It’ll be ok.”

“I love... this one,” Nicole murmured.

The music crescendoed. Her ragged breaths slowed.

She was dead by the end of the song.

Tony listened, jaw clenched, his own eyes surprisingly damp as Peter started sobbing, the sound muffled like he was covering his mouth.

He went on to the team channel.

“Can you guys handle clean-up? I need to get Spidey out of here,” Tony said, his own voice soft in the aftermath of what he heard.

“Is he hurt?” Steve asked quickly.

“No. No, just... it’s his first big battle. He’s in shock.”

There was a moment of silent understanding. They’d all gone through the same thing the first time they had fought in battles that were more destruction than preservation, more dying than saving.

“Make sure he eats something,” Nat said over the line, and that’s all the confirmation Tony needed. He switched to a two-way comm.

“Hey, Pete,” he said softly. He heard sniffing, the sound of Peter wiping his tears away.

“Mr. Stark. Sorry, where do you need me? I can be-“

“Stand down, kid. Fight’s over.” He couldn’t make himself talk above a murmur, like speaking any louder would be the final straw before Peter lost it completely. “We’re getting out of here. Where are you?”

Peter rattled of a quick address, but then hesitated. “I... I’ll meet you in a few minutes, ok? There’s something I have to do.”

Tony flew over to where he was anyway. He stood in the shadow of fire engine, watching as Spider-Man crawled down the side of a partially destroyed building. There was a crowd of onlookers standing behind a police cordon, their faces pale and scared.

Peter walked over to them. There was a man with brown hair and glasses in the second row of people. Tony almost wanted to look away.

Instead, he watched. He watched as Peter carefully led him a few feet away, as he held out the necklace Nicole gave him and delivered her message. He watched as the man’s face crumpled, as tears spilled over, and finally, as his knees gave out.

Peter caught him. Lowered him to the ground and held on, hugging him on his knees, his own shoulders shaking with sobs.

Watching him, Tony felt his heart clench in nearly physical pain. It hurt to see the man mourning his lost fiancée, but for some reason, Peter’s grief affected him more. He wanted to go over and comfort him, wipe his tears away. The need to make Peter feel better was so strong he almost couldn’t stop himself from flying over that second.

He knew he needed to let Peter have this moment, this first step toward acceptance, this chance to be his own person for a moment, to let the world see the same kindness and compassion and heart that Tony saw in Peter every single day.

He just wished it didn’t come at the cost of Peter’s innocence. He just wanted Peter to be happy. More than anything in the world, he wanted Peter to be happy.

Oh, Tony thought as that realization sunk down into the pit of his stomach and took root.

I love him.

A few other onlookers had come forward and taken Jonathan by the arms, assuring Spider-Man that they would take care of him.

Pressing pause on his epiphany, Tony stepped out of the shadows. Peter turned to him like a child looking for his parent in a crowd.

“Hey, bud,” Tony said. “Ready?”

Peter nodded, his breath still catching. Tony picked him up, making sure Peter was secure, before carefully taking off.

When they got to the tower, Peter waited until Tony set him down gently on his own feet, then walked forward without speaking, his shoulders slumped and head bowed.

Tony stepped out of the suit and followed, watching carefully. Peter sunk down into the nearest chair, a stool at the breakfast bar. His hands scrabbled weakly at his mask, unable to find the seam. Tony came closer and stilled Peter’s hands with his own, then tugged the mask off with one hand. He set it on the counter, then smoothed out Peter’s wild curls.

Peter’s face was pale, the redness around his eyes stark against his dark irises. He trapped his hands between his knees to try to hide the shaking, but Tony had already spotted it.

“Nat made me promise to feed you,” Tony said, his voice loud in the quiet of the penthouse. “What’re thinking, kid? I can do boxed mac and cheese, frozen chicken nuggets, or good old PB&J. Or all three, if you’re a masochist.”

Peter carefully didn’t look at Tony, probably trying to keep him from noticing his red eyes.

“I—” His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m not really hungry.”  

“Not an option, kiddo. Sorry. How about I get you some juice to get that blood sugar up while I get cooking, alright?”

Tony rounded the island, busying himself with getting Peter some of the cranberry apple juice he liked so much, turning the oven on to start preheating. The kid needed some protein to make up for all the calories he burned fighting.

When he looked over his shoulder again, Peter was sitting with his head on his folded arms, his face hidden. Tony’s heart plummeted. He could still hear the echo of those muffled sobs, the sounds of a kid who thought he was too old, too strong to be crying, but who was too heartbroken not to.

Tony would never judge the kid for crying. He knew Peter was strong, he knew it possibly better than Peter himself. He also knew how overwhelming and horrifying your first battle, your first loss, could be. He hated that Peter felt the need to hide his emotions, his incredibly empathetic and tender nature from Tony.

Standing on the opposite side of the counter, he reached out and ran his fingers through Peter’s hair. Peter’s breath hitched just a little, and he slowly raised his head until he could look at Tony through the fringe of his lashes.

Tony seized the opportunity and slid his hand down to Peter’s chin, raising his head further. There were no fresh tears on Peter’s face, so maybe he hadn’t been crying after all. He still looked devastated and wrung-out.

He didn’t know what to say in the face of such innocent, honest grief that wouldn’t sound cheap and patronizing.

“I... I’m really, really proud of you, Pete,” he finally murmured.

There was a flash in Peter’s eyes, a single heartbeat where he thought Tony was mocking him. Then he slumped, his jaw pressing further into Tony’s hand.

“Mr. Stark, I... there was this woman,” Peter said, his voice gravelly. “I was trying to clear an apartment building and I found her and, and she was hurt really bad. And I didn’t want to leave her but I knew you guys needed me—” Peter’s eyes flit to one side, as if too ashamed to look at Tony, “—and I didn’t know what to do so I... I stayed. And I held her hand. Instead of coming to help you. You could have gotten hurt and it would have been my fault, but I just kept thinking if it had been me I wouldn’t want to be alone and she-she died, Mr. Stark,” Peter hiccupped. His eyes were full of tears again, and suddenly Tony could picture it so clearly, Peter kneeling by a stranger’s side and crying even while he comforted her. While he played music to distract her from the agony and fear.

“Oh, Peter,” Tony sighed. He came around the counter and pulled Peter in by the shoulders. Peter buried his face against Tony’s sternum, sniffling.

“Firstly, it’s not your job to look after all of us, ok? That’s why there’s a team of us, so we all can keep an eye on each and no one has to shoulder all of it. We were all ok, we were looking out for one another. Sometimes you get busy and can’t help for a bit, that’s fine. And you did a great job today, buddy, you really did.”

Peter’s fingers tentatively grasped Tony’s t-shirt and his heart constricted.

“Secondly—” Tony once again raised Peter’s face to meet his eyes. The kid looked desperate, fervently listening to any shred of wisdom Tony might bestow on him. “You never, ever have to apologize for being compassionate. That’s something you can’t learn, kid. You either have it or you don’t, and you have it. I wish I was as empathetic as you.”

Peter looked up at him, half hope and half doubt, and something in Tony’s chest settled.

How had it taken this long for Tony to realize that he loved him?

When Tony reached up and squeezed the back of Peter’s neck, his touch was gentler than it had ever been before.

“Why don’t you go take a shower before the rest of the circus troupe come and screw up the water pressure?” Tony suggested.

Peter nodded, swallowing. Tony kept a hand on his elbow as he hopped off the stool, just to make sure he was steady. Then he watched as Peter slouched off to his room, the Spider-Man mask drooping dejectedly in his hand.

His mind buzzing, Tony carefully spread the chicken out on a pan and put it in the oven, making sure to put on a timer. Then he slumped in the chair Peter had just abandoned and thought.

He had never been great about recognizing his own emotions. It had taken Afghanistan for him to realize that Rhodey and Happy were his family, that Pepper was much, much more than his assistant that he liked to flirt with. He’d kept them at a distance on purpose, too self-absorbed and miserable to let himself have that small piece of happiness.

Maybe for the kid’s own good, Tony should have done the same thing with Peter, but he couldn’t seem to make himself. Because Peter... Tony liked everything about Peter. His optimism, his enthusiasm, his uncompromising morals. He liked the way the kid got lost in his work, the way he fell asleep during movies, the way he talked a mile a minute to his AI when he was nervous. He liked the way Peter made him act—the responsibility and softness and sometimes silliness that the kid brought out in him.

He tried to think back, to a time before he loved Peter and found he just... couldn’t. Obviously there was one, but now every memory was so colored with fondness and bone-deep admiration that he couldn’t find a before and after. Every time Peter was there in his memories, there was love. The two words were almost synonymous. Now that Tony had connected them, they couldn’t be separated.

He felt the same palpable adoration when he thought about Pepper, but where Pepper was a fire, burning constant and steady and familiar in his sternum, Peter was an eternal sunrise. Bringing the promise of light, of warmth, of a new beginning. Infinite possibilities about to unfold and Tony loved every one of them; he loved the Peter that had just been sitting in front of him, sweat curled hair and fidgeting hands, and he loved every version of Peter that would come—the exhausted college student, the nervous new father, the CEO or inventor or doctor.

Now that he recognized the feeling in his chest that he got whenever he so much as thought of the kid, he felt full to bursting with it. It was a surprisingly good feeling.

Peter walked back into the room, his hair curling and damp. He looked a little less worn out, a little more like his usual self. He’d just need time, Tony knew, to recover. He never stayed down for long.

Tony found himself smiling as he watched Peter comb his fingers through his hair. The room seemed brighter with Peter in it.

Gosh, he was a sap.

“Perfect timing, kiddo,” Tony said as the timer started beeping. He got up and pulled the chicken nuggets out of the oven, serving them up onto a plate. “Ketchup, right?”

“And mayo,” Peter reminded.

“Ugh, that’s right.” Tony pulled the condiments out of the fridge, wrinkling his nose.

“It’s the best way to eat them, Mr. Stark,” Peter insisted as he busied himself mixing the two on his plate until there was a puddle of pink sauce next to his mound of chicken nuggets.

“So you say,” Tony said as he sat down next to the kid. He was happy to watch Peter eat, pleased that Peter seemed to perk up as he did.

After a moment, Peter pushed the plate toward Tony, silently offering. Tony stared at the food for a moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he had something as childish as chicken nuggets, especially the cheap frozen brand that Tony had seen in May’s freezer a couple months ago and purchased in an attempt to stock up on “Peter food.”

Peter was watching him, amused. Finally, Tony shrugged and picked one off the plate. Peter’s barely noticeable smile grew a little bit, and he rotated the plate so that his ketchup-mayonnaise monstrosity was closer to Tony.

“Ugh, fine,” Tony groaned. He dipped the chicken into the sauce and popped it into his mouth, just so that Peter would stop saying “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, Mr. Stark,” all the time.

It was, actually, really good. Dang it.

“Well?” Peter asked, feigning innocence.

“Yeah, alright, fine,” Tony conceded, rolling his eyes.

Peter beamed at him.

Tony loved that, too.

#I liked this until like five minutes ago #and now I do not but I'm posting it so I'll stop working on it and do other things #Tony Stark #Peter Parker #MCU #brotp: speaking of loyalty #Irondad and Spiderson #my writing #fic

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Peter: All I Had (Post-Freedom)

CW: Referenced pet whump, VERY briefly referenced vaguely implied noncon, referenced dehumanization

Timeline: Takes place post-freedom for Karen Renford’s Box Boys, about six months after her Very Timely Death. Henry belongs to @spiffythespook and is used with permission.

Peter saw him and the world came, briefly, to a stop.

He didn’t realize he’d stumbled to a halt until Henry’s hand tugged at his, the younger man looking back at him, confused. “Peter? What’s up?”

Peter’s eyes weren’t on Henry at all, though, and he didn’t even really hear him - he was looking across the street at a man and his daughter staring into a shop window.

Henry’s eyes followed his line of sight, and the redhead came to stand beside him again, head tilted to the side, trying to understand the sudden lack of color in Peter’s face.

But Peter’s concentration was entirely on the man. He was older now, had some gray in his temples and a few new wrinkles on his face, but Peter knew him, he knew him, one of the few clear spots in a memory shrouded with fog and pain.

Next to him, a gangly, long-limbed girl with blonde hair in a high ponytail, wearing an oversized T-shirt and denim shorts that just barely poked out from under the shirt’s hem, was pointing at something through the window. The man spoke, and the girl laughed, and Peter’s stomach twisted in a sudden knot of pain, like eating one of Madam’s-

she’s Ms. Renford now, not your Madam, and she’s dead so she’s nothing actually

-bloody steaks, where she would sit and watch him eat just to see how long he lasted before he had to go throw it all back up again.

“Hey,” Henry said softly, as Peter’s jaw locked and his face tightened, the last hint of color draining out. “Hey, what’s wrong, Peter?”

He wasn’t Peter at all, though.

Not when he looked at the man and his daughter.

“I… I, um…” Peter’s voice trailed off, and he suddenly wanted to press against Henry for safety, because he wasn’t safe without his collar on and he’d stopped wearing it at all a month ago. He didn’t even know where it was, he’d given it to Henry to take care of if he needed it again. He wasn’t safe here.

The spot inside his left wrist, where the WRU people had lasered off his barcode and pet number, began to itch, and he scratched at it compulsively, pushing up the long sleeves he always wore and digging nails into the thin scarred plain skin underneath.

“I… I’m okay, I just-”

What was he just? He didn’t have a way to finish the sentence.

The girl laughed, loud enough to carry across the street, putting a hand on her father’s arm, his ponytail bouncing a little. He could faintly hear, oh my god, Dad, did you just tell a fucking dad joke? from here.

Peter looked at her and he hated her. She had to be sixteen years old, maybe a little more, maybe a little less. She had to be. She was a teenager, pointing at something she wanted in a store window, and she was standing next to her father doing normal teenage things. She was safe.

Peter was 24 years old and felt scared without a pet collar. 

He’d never driven a car and he was too afraid to learn how. He still had nightmares every fucking night about a woman who had been dead for more than half a year. He couldn’t-… he had never gotten to do any of the things that girl would get to do, to take for granted, like college, and maybe drinking too much or something, and not having to eat things that made her sick and be half-deaf in one ear and learn how to sign because her older brother was too traumatized to speak and-

“Peter.” Henry’s voice cut in again, harsher this time, a little louder. Peter jumped, and Henry put a light hand on his upper arm, not exactly hesitant but Henry was never great at being affectionate in public, this was more than he usually did.

“I-I’m sorry, I… I know him,” Peter said, not quite a whisper. “I know… I know him.”

The man turned from the shop window, pointing at a restaurant, speaking to his daughter again. His eyes flicked upwards and even from across the street Peter could have sworn he looked right at him, but then the eyes skimmed away from his face and they were gone.

Wait, come back.

“What do you mean? Was he-…” Henry’s voice caught and he went tense beside Peter, hand gripping onto his arm a little tighter. “… one of… one of her guests?”

Peter swallowed against the residual guilt and shame that went along with the memory of Karen’s smaller parties, the ones where sometimes he was sent upstairs to the guest room, and shook his head. “N-No, he’s just… I just-… wait, I have to go-” 

Peter’s feet were moving before he finished the sentence and he jogged across the street heedless of traffic, with Henry right on his heels, confused and asking him to stop and explain.

A car had to slam on its brakes, honking on the horn, but while Henry put both hands up in a sorry, we’re sorry gesture, Peter didn’t even notice. HIs heart was pounding with excitement, a nervous half-smile already on his face.

He’d thought he’d never see him again. The last time had been when they gave him the sedative to load him into his box, and the man had given him a big hug first, and put his hands on his face, and said, softly, You’ll be okay, even though they both knew where the box was going and they both knew he wouldn’t be.

Take care of you, kiddo, the best you can.

Then the pain of the needle in his arm, and the sudden need to sleep that superseded anything else. He could remember putting his wrists up for the man to tie together, and being laid down into the soft packing material, the man’s hand pushing some hair back, tenderly, from his forehead. It had reminded him of someone… someone warm and who had held him when he was sick, before… but Peter had been too sleepy to think of who before his eyes had closed, the last thing he knew the gentle press of a palm to the side of his face.

There you go. When you wake up, kiddo, you’ll be home.

Peter had slipped under the surface thinking, but this is home, but you are home. Then he’d woken up to Karen Renford’s surprise and the look of sympathetic concern on Seb and Dex as they greeted him.

Six years later, and the man was different but he was also still exactly the same.

“Peter, stop!” Henry yelled, but he’d fallen behind and Peter’s eyes were focused on the man.

The man looked up at the sound of Henry yelling, eyes widening at Peter stumbled to a stop right in front of him. He stopped and put a protective arm around his daughter’s shoulder, pulling her closer to him.

“… hi,” Peter said, half-panting, breathless, aware of the ridiculous dopey smile on his face. “H-Hi, hi, it’s me, hi!”

The man’s eyebrows furrowed, and Peter felt a sudden dip of feeling, a knot of worry that settled into the center of his stomach. “… do I know you?”

“I, yeah, remember… remember me? Handler?” Peter’s whole body felt lit up with the knowledge that he had seen him again, the only nice person in the whole Facility. The only person who tried, who took care of him, who cared about him. “You… you were my Handler.”

“Dad?” The teenage girl asked, her voice holding a note of doubt and worry. “Dad, is this someone from your old work?”

“… Peter? He was your handler?” Henry said softly behind him. While his voice still held worry, where the girl sounded doubtful, Henry had an edge of anger in his voice as he raised his eyes to look over at the man.

The man looked at him blankly, staring at Peter’s short dark hair - cut shorter than ever during freedom and he liked it that way, so it didn’t look like Dex’s hair any longer - and also because he kind of liked how it felt when Henry ran his palm across it, nearly grazing his scalp. Deep brown eyes, darker than Dex’s but nobody’s perfect, Karen had said dragging the cane for the first time along his collarbone. Skin as pale as his, anyway, in that way at least Peter had been good enough.

The man’s eyes dropped to Peter’s left wrist, where he’d pushed his sleeve back down, and the telltale scarring wasn’t visible any longer. They drifted over Peter’s bare neck, and the weight of his gaze there made Peter shiver a little, a spike of deep shame that he had gone out without his collar taking over before his conscious brain could remind him that he didn’t have to wear one anymore. Finally, the man’s eyes went back to his face, and the early curiosity had flattened into something like hostility. “I’m sorry,” The man said, in a voice that suggested he wasn’t. “I don’t recognize you.”

Peter froze. “What?”

But you’re the only person I remember before I woke up in the box.

“I don’t know who you are,” The man said, a little more firmly.

Peter took a step back and bumped into Henry, who put a hand against his lower back and left it there, more than he usually did in public. “No, you-… you do, you were my-… my primary, in training-”

“I was the primary for a lot of pets,” The man said, and Peter flinched at the word. “But, I’m sorry. I quit WRU a few years ago, I don’t… there were a lot of pets, I don’t remember them all.” His eyes went to Henry, who was staring back with barely-veiled hostility. “Is this your owner?”

“Yes,” Peter said, almost eagerly.

At the same time, Henry said firmly, “He doesn’t have one anymore.”

There was a beat of uncomfortable silence. Henry removed the hand from Peter’s back.

“He doesn’t have an owner,” Henry repeated. “He’s free now. I freed him.”

The girl stood next to her father, looking around the three of them with immense discomfort. She was only a few years younger than Henry, still deep in the all-elbows-and-knees part of her teenage years. “Um, Dad?” She said, in a soft voice.

He glanced down at her and nodded. “No, you’re right, Cassie. Look, it was nice seeing you again - I’m sorry I don’t remember you. I had about fifteen trainees at any given time, switched out every couple of months… I worked there for about four years… you understand.”

But you said you wouldn’t forget about me. You promised.

Peter’s attempt to answer was caught in his throat, as it closed up around the air and simply held the sound trapped somewhere near his lungs. His chest felt suddenly tight and heavy, like a weight was crushing it down, and hot tears sprung to his eyes.

He kept his eyes on the man’s face, searching it for some sense that maybe he would remember again, if Peter just kept looking hard enough. “W-wait,” He said. “Wait, what if I… would you know my, my number?”

“Peter,” Henry said. “Peter, don’t.”

“No, but I-… if I knew my number, still, would you remember me? My number? From training? I, I still know my number, Handler Todd, I still know it.” Peter pulled away from Henry entirely and stepped up, putting his hands up to try and stop them from leaving. “Pl, please, you were, you were nice to me, nobody was nice to me but you-”

“Dad, I don’t want to listen to stuff from your old work,” The girl - Cassie - said, an edge of a whine in her voice. “You know I always, I never wanted to know about it.”

“No, I know, honey.” The man sighed, giving her a quick squeeze. “I know. Look, let me just talk to him for a sec and we’ll go for lunch. You just go look in that boutique, okay? You have a fifty-dollar budget. Go on, kiddo.”

Hey, kiddo, I brought your shake. Don’t make that face, I made sure this one isn’t drugged.

Shit, kiddo, what’d you do to get so beat up this time?

Come on, kiddo, you can’t take another pet’s place for that, you’re not even designated for that function.

Cassie brightened, smiling, leaning up to give her father a peck on the cheek before she moved away. “Okay, but like ten minutes or less, Dad, I’m already starving.”

Bet you’re starving, huh, bud? No problem, I snuck you in… ta-da! Protein bar! Hey, no need to hug me, just say ‘thanks, Handler Todd’. That’s a good boy.

What a good boy.

You being a good boy these days?

Did you behave while I was on vacation? Were you a good boy? Look, I want to show you-… I took the girls to Disneyland! Come here, look at the pictures before we do training today.

Once she had pushed open the door with the faint jingling of the bells tied to it announcing her presence, the man turned back to Peter, his face set in disappointed annoyance. Peter cringed back from the expression, feeling sixteen years old all over again, an awkward trainee who couldn’t stop fucking up trying to save the others from getting hurt. “Look, I am really sorry and I do mean that, but I have no idea who you are. I’m glad you remember me, I guess that means I did something right, but I had so many trainees-”

“A man bought me for Karen Renford!” Peter all but shouted, desperately forcing the words out as they tried to slither back down. He grabbed onto the man’s shirt, not really meaning to, just needing to keep him here, to hold him still.

Henry was staring wide-eyed, now, and more than a couple of other people on the street turned to look, too.

“Director Renford…?” The man’s voice trailed off, and he looked down at Peter - who had never grown as tall as he should have, according to the real doctor he’d gone to see with Henry after freedom - with a whole new expression on his face. “You’re Director Renford’s pet?”

“Not anymore, he’s not,” Henry said darkly.

“Yes!” Peter said, feeling a smile start back up. Now he could see it, now he could see the recognition in his eyes, what he’d been hoping for. “Yes, that’s me! I was, um, you used to, to say that it was illegal that they took me and it was! Henry proved it!”

“Dex had the proof,” Henry corrected, moving a little closer, still looking at the man with the same vague dislike he’d had before. “We just got lucky that he kept it like he did.”

“Shit,” The man said, softly. “I heard she died, from the news, I figured you all just went to her next of kin.”

“We did! We did, that’s him, that’s Henry-” Peter reached out and grabbed Henry’s hand, pulling him closer. “He, he freed us, though. I mean, I was going to be freed anyway, because-… because I was so young. You remember me now? You do?”

“… you know what, I do. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before… You were… shit, hold on, I’ll remember this in a second. I feel like your number ended in… ‘689?”

“Yes!” Peter grinned, and the man reached out to ruffle his hair in an easy, affectionate way. Peter ducked his head to push into the touch, from pure instinct.

Henry’s hand snapped up to grab the man’s wrist. “No. He doesn’t do that anymore.”

“Oh, right.” The man cleared his throat, lowering his hand, and Peter felt a little sad that Henry had interrupted the moment. “So… you’re going by Peter now?” The man looked him over with a whole new expression on his face, a brighter one. Not how he’d looked at his daughter, but at least kinder, happier. Peter felt like bouncing on the balls of his feet, but he managed to hold back, because Henry was still tense and uncomfortable beside him.

“Yeah, Madam-… Ms. Renford named me Peter. I like it, it’s still a good person name. You… your name is Todd. You were Handler Todd.”

“Yeah… Todd Urie. You can know my whole name now, I guess. Not a handler anymore, just Todd Urie. I always wondered what happened to you… good to see you’re being taken care of.” The man smiled, then glanced over his shoulder. “I should go pick Cassie up for lunch. It’s her sweet sixteen, you know.”

“I was sixteen,” Peter said, softly.

Something darkened in Henry’s face, and went still in the man’s.

“You knew I was sixteen, right?” Peter asked, reluctantly. “You said you knew.”

I knew some of you guys couldn’t be old enough… are you even sixteen?

“… yeah, I knew,” Todd said, uncomfortable again. “I knew you were guys were underage, some of you. There wasn’t anything I could do about it, I’m sorry. I tried to be nice, I thought that was at least something? But I couldn’t really stop it.”

“Bullshit,” Henry snapped. “Call the fucking cops, should have been your first step.”

Todd looked over at Henry, frowning. “Look, kid. I had a contract, there was a lot more to it than that-”

“No, there wasn’t! There was never anything more to it than, than us-… than Peter needing help, and everyone knew it, and nobody did anything until Mr.-… until one person did!”

“Henry, it’s okay,” Peter said, but Henry wasn’t listening to him now.

“Everywhere we go, people say oh, we’re sorry, we didn’t know or they did know, but then they say oh, there was nothing we could have done. There was so much that everyone could have done to help us!”

“Us?” Todd said, confused, his eyes flickering between the two of them. “Are you a pet, too? Or, uh, ex-pet-”

“That doesn’t matter,” Henry snapped. Some of his red hair flopped over his forehead, eyes blazing as he stared Todd down. “What matters is that you-… you could have done something to help him. Called the cops or figured out who he was before and called his family or, or something. And you didn’t, so don’t act like it’s not your fault.”

Todd’s expression darkened again, and he sighed, heavily. “Look, I get from your perspective how bad it looks, but you have to understand-”

“I don’t have to understand shit. What I understand is that he should never have been there, and he was, because people like you knew and you did nothing. What I understand is having to teach somebody all the stuff they were supposed to learn years ago. What I understand is that you-”

“I’m going to grab my daughter for lunch,” Todd interrupted. “You’ve every right to your anger, whoever you are, but it’s not my fault, and you can go yell at Ms. Renford’s grave, not me.”

“She doesn’t have one. I made fucking sure of it.”

“Henry, stop!” Peter tried to grab onto Todd’s shirt again, only to have the older man pull away, leaving him with his hands out and nothing to hold onto. “W-Wait, Handler Todd, if, if I could just talk to you a second longer-”

“Yeah, no, I’m gonna go get Cassie something to eat. Good to see you again, ‘689.” This time, his eyes on Henry, Todd deliberately reached out and ruffled Peter’s hair. “You were always a good boy. I hope things are better for you now.”

He turned abruptly and walked away, ducking into the same little boutique his daughter had gone into.

Peter watched him go, hands dropping limply to his sides.

There was a long silence.

“Peter?”

Peter turned on his heel. “Why couldn’t you just let me talk to him, Henry? He was nice to me! He was the only one who was nice to me! The others, the others hit me, and they drugged me, and they r-… they hurt me, but he never did! He never did!”

“He did hurt you! He hurt you by not trying to help you, Peter!” Henry groaned, throwing his hands up in the air, digging fingers into his own hair. “I don’t understand why you don’t get that. Everyone who knew what happened to us and didn’t do anything, they hurt us, too.”

“No, they didn’t! He, he had to take care of his kids, his daughters-… he said, he said if they got sick then working at WRU meant he could afford the doctor-… he used to come visit me, and hug me, and he, he said he was sorry…”

“His daughters? The doctor?” Henry swore under his breath, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. “Peter, I just-… I don’t even know where to start. Those are just excuses for leaving you there to suffer.”

“His excuses were all I had! I’m sorry if we can’t all be mad all the time, but, but you… you had us! You had me and Seb and Dex, when you-… when she made you-… you had us. When it was hard, when it was bad, when she hurt you.”

“When she hurt you,” Henry corrected, icily. “To hurt me.”

“You had us,” Peter repeated. “All I had was him.”

Henry was silent. Then, finally, he said softly, “… Peter-”

“Look, I just. I’m gonna go buy a, a coffee, or something, just give me a second, I-” His eyes caught sight of a small pet store down the block, and he put one hand up to rub at the empty space that circled his neck. “I’ll be right back.”

“Peter… Peter, wait, I think I messed up, I-”

“Just go in the bookstore, okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t come with me. I’ll be right back. Don’t follow me.”

Peter started walking, leaving Henry staring after him. He ignored the people on the street. Peter’s eyes were focused on the sign above the pet store’s front door, the little puppies with their tails wagging in the front window.

Peter was focused on the fact that he had money in a wallet in his back pocket now, and inside the store he would find what he needed to calm down and feel safe again.

#whump #pet whump #box boy #box boy universe #dehumanization #tw: vaguely referenced noncon #tw: dehumanization #handler todd #peter: courage #freed whumpee #post-freedom #memory loss #collars #435689