#9 of 16

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Becoming Spider-Man - Chapter Nine

Peter Parker Has a Problem

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Peter Parker & Tony Stark (IronDad)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> In which Peter's body does what it does, and Tony doesn't know how to help.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 1690

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (T) Menstruation, brief mention of hypothetical SH.

𝐀/𝐍 -> Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Cute divider by @/sweetmelodygraphics!

<- Previous Chapter (8/16) Next Chapter (10/16) ->

I woke in the middle of the night in crippling pain, whimpering as I balled up on my side. Cramps tore through my abdomen, and I sniffled back tears as I slid my feet to the floor, the cool wood offering little respite. A keening groan escaped me as I shuffled out of the room, wincing as I turned on the bathroom light, the brightness sending needles into my brain. My jaw clenched as I sat on the toilet, taking deep, calming breaths.

"Please be food poisoning, please be food poisoning…" I chanted softly, reluctantly tugging down my boxers. "… Fuck."

I couldn't deny the reality I found myself in, the scent of my own blood heavy in the air as I let out a moan, fingers clenching in the material of my underwear as another sharp stab twisted in my stomach.

I also had to acknowledge that I had, this time, been woefully unprepared.

Since moving in with Tony, I'd been getting my… Stuff from a schoolfriend, MJ. She never asked questions, and helped me out at a moment's notice, much to my gratitude; since socially transitioning, the last thing I wanted was to shatter my newfound confidence buying pads. Plus, until recently,that would require asking Tony for money, and explaining why I needed it, and there was no way I was having that conversation.

But this had come early, like a terrible Christmas present. I hadn't been expecting this particular nightmare for another week, and so hadn't replenished my stock since last month. And now I'd been caught, quite literally, with my pants down.

Another whimper escaped me as a knife twisted in my abdomen, bile rising to the back of my throat. Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't-

"Peter?" A soft knock sounded on the door, sending my head snapping to attention. "Are you ok?"

"Fine!" I called back, trying to sound upbeat as I wrapped my arms around my stomach.

"Are you sure?"

Despite the wood between us, I could hear the concern in Tony's voice, and I couldn't help but smile. "Yeah. Just… Unwell. I'll be ok."

"Can I get you anything?" he asked after a beat, and I winced, breathing deeply.

"No! Nope, I'm good," I strained, clenching my jaw against another wave of nausea. I heard him hesitate before the soft sound of his bare feet padding away, leaving me to sob quietly.

"Peter? Peter?!"

I was jerked from my half-slumber, darting upright where I still sat hunched over on the toilet, blinking away sleep. "Huh?"

"Are you ok?"

My jaw creaked as I yawned, stretching my arms over my head. I'd fallen asleep in the bathroom, stuck trying to decide how to proceed, and my bones were paying for it. "Yeah. Unwell, like I said."

"Peter, why are you lying to me?"

I blinked at the locked door, shocked by the sharp edge to his voice. "I… I'm not."

"There's blood everywhere, kid." I exhaled heavily as my vision tunnelled, hands tingling in terror. No. Dear God, no. "Whatever you've done – whatever has happened – it's ok. I'll help you. But you gotta open the door, Peter."

I stared at the latch in horror, before slowly moving to my feet, dropping the soiled boxers in the hamper out of the way and wrapping my dressing gown about myself. The furry fabric comforted me as I unlocked the door.

Tony barrelled in, one hand encased in a blaster and raised protectively. "What's going on?" he asked, his eyes scanning the room, the blaster receding as his stance relaxed when he found me to be alone.

"Don't worry about it," I muttered, an embarrassed flush creeping up my neck. His hands clapped on my shoulders, gaze locked on mine.

"Peter… You can always talk to me. You don't need to… I'd rather talk about feelings than have you feel like you have to…" His throat bobbed nervously, and I barked out a laugh.

"You think I hurt myself?" I clarified incredulously, one brow arched. Is that better or worse than reality?

Tony drew back hesitantly, eyes scanning my forearms despite their covering. "It's something I read about. Apparently, it's quite common in transgender youth…"

My head fell back as I snorted. "You're overthinking this, Mr. Stark." His face remained blank as I looked back to him, and I cleared my throat. "I am, as you said, trans, Mr. Stark. Sometimes my body does things… Things I'd rather it didn't?" I prompted when he offered no response. I watched with distant amusement as a myriad of emotions chased one another over his features, eyes widening comically.

"Oh… Oh. Oh. Do you… Do I… What…"

"Tony?"

Mr. Stark looked away, his embarrassment pinking his skin. "Yeah, kid?"

"It's fine. I'll be fine. I can sort everything. If you let me just finish up in here, I'll put on the laundry, and go to the store. Sorry about your sheets." My voice was calm and emotionless, carefully disguising my utter humiliation and disgust, and he nodded once, still unable to meet my gaze.

"Sure thing, kid. Whatever you need."

By the time I was ready to emerge from the bathroom – a shameful padding of toilet paper wedged between my legs, making me feel like a child who couldn't be trusted not to pee on the floor – almost an hour had passed. Every time I had considered getting back up, planning my movements around the apartment and the walk to the store, my breathing had stuck in my chest as I imagined the look on the face of the shopkeeper. What if they challenged me? Worse, what if they simply assumed I was female, eyes following the soft curve of my jaw and the contour of my chest, subtle but still present under my binder?

Fear kept driving me back to my seat on the toilet until my stucco panting subsided, ready to repeat the cycle, until exhaustion finally won out over terror and I had sufficiently distanced myself from my emotions to leave my sanctuary.

The door closed behind me with a soft click as I scuttled across to my bedroom, moving inside silently. I leant against the wood with a sigh, head tipped backwards, offering a prayer to any listening God that this would be over quickly, lids drifting shut as I plead silently.

By the time I opened my eyes, my heart had once again calmed to a more manageable level, but the sight before me made it contract worryingly.

My bed was freshly smoothed, the previous grey sheets replaced with black silk, tucked without the usual professional precision. Atop the bedding was a baffling array of period products – pads, tampons, even menstrual cups, in a variety of sizes, colours, and brands.

I blinked blankly, moving closer in surprise. Picking up the mask on my bedside table, I slid it on, swiping away the overwhelming information scanning before my eyes. "Friday?"

"Mr. Parker?"

"Did… Was this Tony? Mr. Stark… Did he do this?" I questioned in disbelief, sitting heavily on the bed. Paper crinkled under my hand, and I looked down.

"Yes, Peter."

The note smeared slightly under my sweating, shaking fingertips, the writing barely legible but unmistakably Tony's.

Hope this suffices, kid. I wasn't sure what you'd need, and the sales person wasn't too helpful, so I just got everything. Let me know if you need something different – or ask Friday to tell me, if you don't want to. You never have to be afraid to talk to me, Peter. About anything. You're not gonna scare me off with a bit of blood and tears. Hot water bottle is under the sheets. Aspirin and water on the bedside table, but I'll get you something stronger if you need it. Take the day off school, kid. I'll be here all day.

I choked back a sob, picking out the least dysphoria-inducing product I could and some clean underwear before making my way back to the bathroom, still clad in my mask. I wept openly once I'd slid back between the sheets, my veritable bounty of menstrual resources carefully slotted into a bottom drawer, raising the mask to my nose so I could take the pills Mr. Stark had left for me. A heavy with escaped me as I curled my body around the furry water bottle, feeling comforted despite my pain.

"Friday?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Is he still up?"

"Yes, Peter. Mr. Stark is currently in his workshop."

I chewed my lip, torn between the desire to seek out my mentor and thank him, and my body's insistence that I stay where I was, otherwise avoiding the discomfort – both physical and emotional – that would come from moving. "Can you play me live audio of the lab?" I asked eventually, rolling onto my back, the hot water bottle moving as I breathed. Immediately the encompassing sounds of Tony's music enveloped me, and my eyes closed of their own accord. "Thanks, Friday."

I felt my breathing growing heavier despite the waves of pain still twisting in my abdomen, the artificial feeling of closeness cradling me comfortingly. I could hear the subtle sounds of metal on metal, interspersed on occasion by Tony humming along to a song, or uttering random snippets of lyrics under his breath.

"You know I know you can hear me, right, kid?" I opened one eye lazily to total darkness, jaw creaking in a yawn. "It's my house – my tech. Nothing happens here without my knowledge."

"Sorry, Mr. Stark. I just... Didn't feel like being alone," I muttered, smiling weakly when Friday parroted my words.

I could hear him hesitate, sounds of idle tinkering briefly muted. "Do you want me to come and sit with you?" he asked at length, when I was almost certain he hadn't heard.

"It's ok," I replied, shading my head with another bone-trembling yawn. "This is... nice."

"No worries, Peter. Get some rest." The sounds of his actions resumed, his unreserved mutterings a surprising blessing.

"…Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

There was a pause before he replied, and despite my pain and exhaustion, I could hear the smile in his voice. "Anytime, kid."

[supernatural-ate-my-face]

I love how Supernatural continues to this day to deliver a quality saga with twists and turns despite a lack of writers, producers, directors, actors, show runners, sets, costumes, viewers, or willing participants. It just. Continues to happen.

I still can't wait to find out what happens tomorrow on Supernatural, a show that ended 5 years ago.

[maureen2musings]

Dahlia time

microflowerfarm

[seaofolives]

New Mobile Report Gundam Wing -Operation 30th- (x)

[charmedslayer]

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER (1997-2003)

[raikabolt1]

TFP Starscream but I got rid of his shrimp posture and made him “5%” bulkier lol.

[soapbbox]

cogless megatron gives the same vibes as scourge from warrior cats and i’m living for it

I saw the word warrior cats and was violently taken over by my 5th grade self. Anon your mind

[lilly-townshend]

wake up honey new crossover just dropped

[locusfandomtime]

The maths fandom is wild. “Real” and “imaginary” numbers? I think you mean canon and non-canon. You guys seriously go “this is my number oc his name is i and he is the square root of -1” when in numbers canon lore it’s actually impossible to square root a negative but sure whatever. “Complex numbers”? I think you mean a character x oc ship. “f(x) = 3x - 5”? That is self-insert fanfiction.

[tio-trile]

I've had several ideas for TLT animatics but never actually got around to making them, but I heard “嗵嗵” (Thump thump) by Doudou a few days ago and banged this out like a man possessed. CONTENT WARNINGS: Your usual the Locked Tomb content including eye imagery with needle like object, lobotomy, horror, suicide imagery, blood, FLASHING IMAGES, and whatever Mercymorn Augustine and Jod had going on

Spoilers for all three books in the series that's out now (ALECTO WHEN??? IM MAKING ANIMATICS TO COPE)

[purewasteland]

do you know who we are?

[sergle]

I was thinking about this earlier, but losing someone long-term really is like. you are whatever age you were when you found that. you were 9 when you brought a cat home, they pass away when you're 28, you're 9 years old again mourning for it. you meet your best friend and s/o when you're 16, they throw you out like garbage 12 years later, and you're 16 again when it ends, mourning it like a teenager. it just sets you back

[shrimptin]

[fortuneaday]

[girlkisser13]

cabin headcanons masterlist

a/n: these are all my personal headcanons. i will be making ones for more minor gods.

cabin 1- zeus ⚡️

cabin 3- poseidon 🌊

cabin 4- demeter 🪴

cabin 5- ares ⚔️

cabin 6- athena 🧠

cabin 7- apollo ☀️

cabin 8- artemis 🌙

cabin 9- hephaestus 🛠️

cabin 10- aphrodite 💗

cabin 11- hermes ⚕️

cabin 12- dionysus 🍷

cabin 13- hades 💀

cabin 14- iris 🌈

cabin 15- hypnos 💤

cabin 16- nemesis ⚖️

cabin 17- nike 🏆

cabin 18- hebe 🍶

cabin 19- tyche 🎰

cabin 20- hecate 🪄

cabin 21- hestia 🔥

cabin 22- thanatos 🪦

cabin 23- morpheus 🛌

cabin 24- melinoe 👻

cabin 25- persephone 🌸

cabin 26- eros 💘

cabin 27- nyx 🌌

cabin 38- psyche 🦋

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Fiat-Abarth X1/9 Prototipo, 1973, by Bertone. A version of the X1/9 was developed by Abarth to replace the 124 Spider Abarth as Fiat's main rally car. It was powered by an 1840 cc engine (a bored out 1600 cc 124-derived unit) with a 16-valve cylinder with twin 44 mm Weber IDF carburettors. The F1 style periscope air intake was designed to feed the carburettors cool air from above the car's roof. Ultimately, the parallel 131 Abarth project was chosen over the X1/9 as the main rally competition platform. Approximately 5 prototypes were made before the project was abandoned, some of the above pics are of a replica rather than one of the actual prototypes