#i was doing well but ive kind of petered out so hopefully if i sleep earlier tonight it will come back tomorrow lol

[scionshtola]

i should go to sleep early but. im gonna read instead 😌

[plounce]

what if gay CATS........... were gay PERSONS

(info on this au under the cut)

theyre all shitty young adults just kind of. getting through their early 20s as best they can. or as much as they can. maybe things will get better someday, but right now they’re kind of spinning their wheels

magic exists but like eh it’s not a big thing don’t worry about it. it’s around but like whatever. not many people have it and it’s mostly just like. a curiosity or a party trick

demeter and bombularina are together, tugger and mistoffelees are together, bombularina and tugger occasionally fwb, it’s cool and aboveboard and it’s all fine

demeter:

bisexual with a preference for women. 24 years old

semi-psychic (not as powerful as tantomile or coricopat). tends to have vague and confusing prophetic dreams

dropped out of grad school for sociology due to trauma and ensuing intensified mental illness. kind of bitter about it, but tries to get through every day. general anxiety disorder even before all that

very nervous around most men she doesn’t know & trust

currently working at a barnes & noble starbucks, which sucks. she recently became the assistant manager, which turbo sucks because now she has more work for only like a buck raise, but at least she’s getting reliable shifts

her go-to therapy is cutting her hair with scissors. her hair is fried to all hell from regular bleaching

she’s learning how to crochet because she’s decided she needs to do something physically productively creative with her hands to distract herself from Stuff

bombalurina:

bisexual. 24 years old

got her bachelor’s in english two years ago and hasn’t found a job in her field and has kind of given up on it for now

she’s been bartending for like four years, does freelance editing work on the side. will occasionally write listicles for clickbait sites if she needs extra cash

literally any extra money she can save goes to tattoos. her right sleeve’s almost done

has natural red hair but dyes it cherry red

a hedonist to cope but is also just a natural hedonist. likes a good bath

i know that like the typical thing fandoms say about female characters is “doesn’t take shit” for the girlboss points but she truly does not take shit anymore. she used to take people’s shit sometimes but at this point in her life she’s tired and she has a girlfriend to be protective of. she has a couple people whose shit she will take (mostly just tugger) but besides them (and having to practice basic customer service to keep her job) she’s tired of other people’s shit! enough!

my personal take on bombalurina is a mix between the riot grrrls of the 90s and 80s punk girls, and then a dash of the greaser chicks from grease. i saw that spiked collar and my brain went OH okay i can run with this somewhere fun. same for demeter, but less so - she just has the piercings.

demelurina:

bombalurina met demeter in college at a women’s activism club, noticed her because of her dimple piercings and was like “oh someone else with a lot of metal in her face, i’ll sit next to her”

they were each other’s first off-campus roommates and were close friends. made out a couple times, but it was mostly a lot of sexual tension. there was a lot of bombalurina staring at demeter while she or demeter made out with someone else

demeter was on and off with her high school boyfriend munkustrap and bombalurina was like “oh he’s so much more stable/calm than me and she needs that, i party a bit too much for her, i shouldn’t try anything” so she just sort of. lets their almost-there peter off

(this is all bombalurina’s internal thoughts - demeter always was interested in her, but thought she was too boring for bombalurina. so neither of them thought they could pursue it)

bombalurina graduated and moved somewhere cheaper further away from campus. they kind of drift apart

munkustrap and demeter peter off and he moves away for a job (they’re still good friends, it was a very amicable breakup) and then demeter gets with macavity, which is a deeply toxic situation for her and sucks hugely and throws her whole life really off track. won’t go into further details

she finally manages to break up with him and calls bombalurina at like 2 am asking if she can pick her up, and also if she can sleep on her couch, it’s okay if that’s not okay, she just. really needs a place she feels safe, and her gut is telling her to. and of course bombalurina says yes

bombalurina also knew macavity and had also made out a couple times with him at like parties and stuff (see: staring at demeter as she makes out with people). something about transference of feelings - bombalurina was into him for a couple moments because he and demeter had a thing.

this is due to me interpreting the song “macavity” as actually about bombalurina wanting to fuck demeter and her singing as a half-repressed expression of that. i use my really good wlw brain to reach that conclusion. it’s kind of a non-competitive version of eve sedgwick’s take on the love triangle. (<-- normal thing to say)

but anyway demeter stays on bombalurina’s couch and she tries so hard to stay on track but eventually she just has to drop out. bombalurina helps her with that too. she’s just really supportive even as demeter’s life is at its lowest point. when she gets home from bartending she gets demeter to go to sleep

she just Stays with her and makes her smile and reminds her that her life isn’t over, there’s still things in her day to enjoy, to keep her trudging forward

bombalurina is roommates with tugger at this point - he also recently dropped out and demeter knows him because he’s munkustrap’s brother, so he’s Trusted and also is like “hey it’s okay that you dropped out, im here and im chilling and you like me and respect me at least a little, and you have a bachelor’s degree at least!” (more on him later)

demeter is like “oh god ive been crashing at their place for so long not paying rent, theyre gonna ask me to leave, im such a freeloader, they wont take my attempts at paying rent” but then bombalurina and tugger are like “hey! the lease is almost up! we found a pretty good 3 bedroom, do you wanna have your own room for real?” and she nearly cries because 1. the RELIEF 2. oh my god you want me around???

cut to bombalurina helping demeter put together an ikea dresser (tugger got banished to the kitchen to make crystal light lemonade for them because he’s useless with a screwdriver) and demeter has two epiphanies:

1. i thought i was ready to d*e four months ago and here i am making a dresser to put clothes into in my new apartment where i live and feel safe and loved. im still not happy but im still alive and im making a dresser

2. holy fuck im back in love with my best friend, and ten times more than i was back then.

so she like kind of freaks out because she’s already imposed so much on bombalurina, how could she impose her FEELINGS on her like this, oh no oh no oh no

meanwhile bombalurina’s back in love with her even MORE and she’s also like no... she’s already dealing with so much... i don’t want to make her uncomfortable or feel unsafe in her own home especially after her recent relationship trauma... i just want her to feel safe around me...

you might think tugger as their roommate would be like “JUST KISS” but he is in fact pretty oblivious because he is self-absorbed. mistoffelees on the other hand..

eventually they do have a big confession of feelings after demeter has a bad day and it’s very dramatic and they make out in the rain. and it’s like. well this is a movie scene. but also im cold and damp. let’s head inside our home and get warm and dry :)

and then they go inside and and talk through everything, all their feelings (not just their romantic feelings but like ALL their feelings) and their shared histories and bombalurina is like “do you think you’re... ready for a relationship right now? like that would be a good thing for you?”

and demeter considers it. she does stop and think. and then she says, “with anyone else... probably not. but it’s you. and i feel so safe around you, and we’re already so close. you make the future feel more worth it. you make more days alive feel not just tolerable, but something to look forward to. and knowing you’ve loved me all this time... it’s nice. it’s good. i’m - i’m understating it so much, it’s more than nice, it’s just - it’s a lot. i wish i had noticed back then.” “hey, hey, don’t blame yourself. i’m the one who never said anything.”

anyway. everything works out, and they start dating for real :)

tugger:

bisexual. 22 years old

dishwasher at the same bar bombalurina works at. she got him the job. he keeps bugging her to teach him bartending tricks and on slow nights she will agree to

he dropped out of their four year, but he managed to secure an associate’s in communications before he dipped

trying to be an ig influencer hotboy and hopefully get modeling jobs from that but his phone’s camera sucks shit so his account isn’t really going anywhere. but he continues to post his low resolution shirtless selfies

trying to cope with being the failure son who does not have a fancy nonprofit job with a salary and healthcare by being self-absorbed and self-aggrandizing

it works about 60% of the time and 60% of the times that it doesn’t he’s able to hide it

he dropped out right around when bombalurina graduated and he was like HEY! ARE YOU LOOKING FOR A ROOMMATE WHO DOESN’T CARE IF WE LIVE TEN MILES AWAY FROM CAMPUS? WELL HAVE I GOT A SOLUTION FOR YOU: ME!

to which bombalurina (who has fooled around with him here and there and thinks he is funny little man and genuinely goodhearted, and also he has rockin abs as a plus) says munkustrap already asked me if i need a roommate and if i do to consider you, because you don’t want to move back home. in other words: yes, you little idiot

they do fool around with each other but they are both very understanding that it is strictly platonic and for fun, especially once they become roommates. they both do not desire each other for anything serious

he did have a bit of a crush on each other when they met (hot punk older girl who’s friends with his brother) but 1. it dissipated pretty quick after they fooled around for the first time because it was not a very serious crush 2. she was in the middle of being in love with demeter so she was focused on that, emotionally

he got his ears pierced a couple times in high school but bombalurina inspired him to get a couple more. she went with him when he got his nose pierced

demeter has always understood that him and bombalurina are strictly fwb, has never been an issue.

she and him like to bleach their hair together when their hair schedules line up (he bleaches his way less often then she does), but she refuses to use his fancy conditioner that keeps his hair unfried because it’s expensive, even though he tells her to go ahead and use it, please, the health of her hair is giving HIM anxiety, demeter please. please demeter

mistoffelees:

gay. 20 years old

has magic. it’s pretty good magic but again: magic is not a big deal in this concept

a bit spooky. skulks around. a bit of a bitch but also very very nice. chooses when to speak

he has postings on craigslist and fiverr about finding lost objects and people with magic. like a gig economy private detective

side job is a waiter at a fancy restaurant

sometimes he gets paid VERY well from the private detecting, depending on the client. he does ask his psychic friends (tantomile & coricopat) to give a quick glance over on some of the more suspicious clients just to make sure he isn’t finding someone who should not be found by that person.

doesn’t go to college. is roommates with his sister victoria, who’s a freshman and studying dance. moved into town with her so she wouldn’t have to live in the dorms by having a guaranteed roommate.

tuggoffelees:

the general vibe i want for these two is mistoffelees walking around town or driving around in his shitty toyota camry while tugger tags along because he’s bored and thinks this is cool as shit

the general tone of the au is “magic isn’t a big deal” except for tugger, who thinks mistoffelees’ magic and his magic freelancing is the coolest shit ever. this is mostly because he just likes mistoffelees. “there are people who can do cooler shit than me, tug” “yeah but i don’t KNOW them also theyre not as COOL as you” “you had to explain to me how instagram reels work”

idk how they met i just think tugger shows up at his and bombalurina’s apartment one day (this is when demeter has moved in but they havent moved to the 3br yet) with this dude to dash in and pick something up and bombalurina is like “uh. who’s this” “oh this is mistoffelees he’s SO GOOD AT MAGIC” [mistoffelees nods hello] “okay bye bombalurina see you at work!!!” “uh. later”

after that he just shows up a lot. sort of ambiguous if theyre dating or what for a while before bombalurina straight up asks like “hey does the dude you’re dating know we fool around” “the dude im - what?” “... the little magic guy who keeps using our hot cocoa mix. misty.” “oh. uh. we aren’t dating.” “... do you want to? because you’re kind of all over him constantly” “um. well! haha, if i wanted to, i could! haha!” “yeah get back to me on that”

tugger trying to use his ig clout to get mistoffelees more work even though 1. he has no clout 2. mistoffelees has a very stable client base. but mistoffelees appreciates the effort. the self-promo guy promoing someone other than himself... the highest expression of love...

mistoffelees is A Nonthreatening Man plus he’s pretty obviously gay so demeter is chill around him pretty quickly. when mistoffelees is over they’ll sit on the couch where demeter sleeps and watch documentaries quietly while she crochets

they both occasionally say spooky shit at the same time because magic stuff. bombalurina and tugger are both torn between “that was cool as fuck” and “god that’s unnerving”

just a lot of tugger following mistoffelees around on his jobs and mistoffelees letting him because he’s fond of him and them occasionally getting into minor peril and interesting shenanigans, but it is 90% fetch quests

i think the first time they met tugger was taking selfies in front of a hydrangea in a public park and he saw mistoffelees walk up with a shovel and start digging in one of the flower beds and he thought he was hot so he went over and offered to take over on the shoveling to look strong and masculine and he ended up digging up a skull, which mistoffelees picked up and said “thanks” and then walked away

mildly terrifying but also very interesting and tugger’s days are kind of boring and dishwashing kind of sucks as a job to do like every night and he is a person who thrives on novelty so. moth to a porchlight

i think they do start making out for fun here and there and then a while later theyre out on one of mistoffelees’ jobs and someone asks “who’s the guy with you” and mistoffelees replies “oh that’s my boyfriend, don’t worry about him” and then it’s like. “HUH? I’M YOUR BOYFRIEND?” “uh. yeah? i assumed. is that okay?” “i mean yeah of course i think you’re great! how long have we–” “oh like a while.” “oh. uh. cool!!”

they just hang out a lot. mistoffelees enjoys teasing him and enjoys his warmth and bombasticity and tugger likes watching and helping him solve little mysteries around the county because it’s always something new. they’re kind of a comedy duo. they just enjoy spending their time together and following mistoffelee’s internal magic gps to find lost dogs and lost necklaces

yeah right now this au is just vibes and just sort of. continuing forward with your days and your weeks and your months. just young adults hanging out

[charmingnines]

5 Times Nines Woke Gavin Up (And The 1 Time He Let Him Sleep) - DE Artfest Day 12/5+1

read it on ao3

or read it below vvv

I

Gavin, Nines knew, didn’t really take lunch breaks. Gavin was incredibly single minded, forgetting to eat the whole day in favor of solving a case. When he did stop for lunch (often at Nines’ insistence), he’d either eat very quickly or bring it back to his desk so he and Nines could keep working.

When Gavin went to the breakroom to grab something to eat, Nines expected him back within a few minutes. When twenty minutes passed and Gavin still hadn’t returned, Nines got up to see what was keeping him. He found Gavin in the breakroom, head down on a table, clearly fast asleep.

Tina was using the microwave. “Hey, Nines,” she said.

“Is Gavin sick?” Nines asked.

Tina glanced at Gavin and snorted. “Nah, he’s fine.”

“That has to be uncomfortable,” Nines said.

Tina shrugged. “Insomnia’s a bitch.”

“Oh,” Nines said, thinking of Gavin’s general irritability and short temper in a new light.  “That explains a lot.”

Tina laughed and patted Nines on the shoulder as she left the breakroom.

Nines stood there for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of Gavin’s shoulders. Then, Nines turned to the kitchen and started a fresh pot of coffee. Within a few minutes, Gavin blinked awake, smelling the air hopefully.

Nines raised an eyebrow. “I can’t believe that worked.”

Gavin jumped slightly. “Jesus,” he said, voice hoarse.

Nines smoothly poured a mug of coffee and deposited it in front of Gavin. Gavin looked from the coffee to Nines, seemingly too drowsy to comprehend either of the two. Nines rolled his eyes and pushed the mug closer to Gavin. Then, Nines left the breakroom. “See you out there, Detective,” he called over his shoulder.

II

Late nights at the DPD were common for Nines and Gavin. Gavin would probably stay late every night if Nines didn’t drag him out of the office. Even so, Nines didn’t see the harm staying late every so often, especially when it resulted in more solved cases.  

They’d been digging through evidence for a few hours in companionable silence when Nines found something that looked promising. “Gavin-” Nines started, turning to look at his partner.

Gavin’s eyes were closed, dark lashes standing out against his skin. His head was tilted at an awkward angle, resting against both his shoulder and the back of his desk chair.

Nines’ internal clock told him it was nearing three in the morning. He blinked. He hadn’t realized how late it’d become.

Nines reached out and pushed Gavin’s chair gently, causing it to slowly spin. Gavin jerked awake, disoriented. He planted his feet on the ground and scowled at Nines. “What was that for, asshole?”

“It’s late,” Nines said, reigning in an amused smile. “And you’re tired. Let’s pick this up in the morning.”

Gavin stretched his neck and sighed. “Fine,” he grumbled, glancing at Nines. “See you in the morning.”

III

Stakeouts were notoriously boring. The majority of the time they led to absolutely nothing. Still, Nines and Gavin couldn’t skip them on the off chance they did lead to something substantial. The first few hours they’d filled with their usual sniping (“Just let me use my binoculars, Nines”), but that’d petered off into a comfortable silence.

As the sun started to rise, it cast pink-gold light through the windshield of the car. Nines glanced over at Gavin and found him asleep. Nines couldn’t blame him; they’d been sitting there since midnight.

Gavin’s curling hair was messier than usual. His lips were slightly parted and he was breathing softly. The scar on his nose didn’t look so stark when his face was relaxed.

Nines waited until his blue flush faded away before turning on the radio at a low volume.  

Gavin rubbed at his eyes. “Fuck,” he said, noticing the time. “How long was I out?”

Nines shrugged, looking away from this sleepy, disheveled, attractive, version of Gavin. “Not long. There was nothing to see anyways….”

IV

“Screw Fowler and screw all these dickheads,” Gavin said, gesturing at the miles of backed up traffic in front of them.

Nines glanced at Gavin. “I don’t think they can hear you, Detective.”  

Gavin ignored Nines. “Sending us to check out a scene during rush hour,” he grumbled. “We’ll be lucky if we get there by midnight.”  

“Actually, my internal GPS predicts we’ll arrive in half an hour-”

Gavin waved his hand. Nines held back a smirk. Grumpy Gavin didn’t respond well to reason.

Gavin pulled the lever connected to the passenger seat, leaning his seat as far back it could go, and shut his eyes.

Gavin was still asleep when they arrived at the scene, an old warehouse that was a suspected red ice production hotspot. Even through the car’s air filters, Nines could smell the stench of large quantities of red ice and- Nines’ eyes widened- fire. The criminals were burning the place down to cover their tracks. Never mind that red ice was an unstable, combustible drug.

Nines didn’t have enough time to move the car away from the scene, so he did the only thing he could do: shield Gavin with his body just as the building exploded. The force made the car skid backwards and blasted the windshield to pieces.

Vaguely, Nines registered the stabbing pain from the glass pieces in his back and the heat from the fire. He heard Gavin’s startled “Nines?” Then, panicked, “Oh, fuck, Nines.”

Nines’ system warned him about excessive thirium loss and imminent shutdown. At least Gavin’s safe, Nines thought, unable to keep his eyes open.

V

Nines woke up in a hospital bed at CyberLife. The glass had been removed from his back and his thirium levels were back to normal. Nines’ system told him his reboot had been the longest part of the repair process, nearly three whole days.

Slumped in a chair next to his bedside was Gavin, asleep. Nines didn’t need to scan him to see he’d been neglecting himself. He looked paler than usual, making the dark bags beneath his eyes look even worse than usual. Nines doubted Gavin had been sleeping or eating regularly; he hadn’t even changed clothes since the accident. Though now invisible to the human eye, Nines could see his own thirium splattered across Gavin’s chest.  

Nines sat up. “Gavin,” he said.

Gavin startled awake. He blinked a few times, looking at Nines like he couldn’t believe he was there. “Nines.”

“You should go home,” Nines said.

Gavin shook his head. “Excuse me?”

“You need to eat something more substantial than what hospital vending machines can offer and then you need to rest,” Nines insisted.

Gavin clenched his fists by his side and set his jaw. For a split second, Nines thought maybe Gavin was going to punch him. Then, Gavin did something even more surprising than that- he lurched forward and kissed him.

It was an aggressive, desperate kind of kiss that left Gavin gasping for air. “You fucking asshole,” Gavin breathed. “I sit here for days, waiting for you to wake up after you saved my fucking life, and you immediately tell me to leave?”

Nines held onto Gavin, stunned. “I just want you to take of yourself.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “You’re just as important as me, dickhead.”

“Sorry for saving your life?”

“Fuck you,” Gavin said, but there was no bite. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” Nines said softly.

Gavin leaned in to kiss Nines again like he couldn’t help it, like he never wanted to stop.

+ I

Nines woke up before Gavin. Weak morning light streamed through the windows. The only sound was of Gavin’s soft breathing. Gavin’s head was on Nines’ shoulder, his hand resting on Nines’ chest. Beneath the covers, their legs were entangled.

After dating for a year, Gavin and Nines had moved into together. Nines had helped Gavin get on an almost functional sleep schedule. Now, Gavin hardly ever fell asleep in questionable places. 

Nines gently ran his fingers through Gavin’s hair before settling his arm around Gavin’s waist and closing his eyes. It was their off day from work and still quite early. Nines let Gavin sleep.

[alanlicht]

Alan Licht’s Minimal Top Ten List #4

A few weeks ago, near the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, my friend Mats Gustafsson sent out a mass email encouraging people to send him record lists to post on the “Discaholics” section of his website--top tens, favorite covers, anything. I immediately thought of the first 3 Minimal Top Ten lists I did (now found online here) back in 1995, 1997, and 2007 respectively, for the fanzine Halana (the first two) and Volcanic Tongue’s website (the third), and sent them to him. Those articles have sort of taken on a life of their own, and I still see them referenced as the albums get reissued and so on. Occasionally people ask me if I’d ever do another one, and looking at all three again made me think now is the hour. I started writing this in the midst of the lockdown, and the drastic reductions in people’s way of life—the restriction of any activity outside the home to the bare essentials, the relative stasis of life in quarantine, even the visual stasis of a Zoom meeting—make revisiting Minimal music, with its aesthetic of working within limitations and hallmarks of repetition and drones, somehow timely as well.

The original lists were never meant to represent “the best” Minimal albums: they were ones that were rare and in some cases surpass, in my opinion, more widely available releases by the same artist and/or better known examples of the genre. Some were records that hadn’t been classified as Minimalist but warranted consideration through that lens. Likewise, the lists aren’t meant to be ranked within themselves, or in comparison to each other; the first record on any of the lists isn’t necessarily vastly preferable to the last, and this fourth list is not the bottom of the barrel, by any stretch. In some cases the present list has records I’ve discovered since 2007; others are records I’ve known for quite a while but haven’t included before for one reason or another. I’ve also made an addendum to selected entries on the first three lists, which have become fairly dated in terms of what is currently available by many of the artists, and to account for some of the significant archival releases in the 25 years since I first compiled them.

Unlike the mid-90s, most if not all of these records can be heard and/or purchased online, whether they’re up on YouTube or available for sale on Discogs. So finding them will be easier than before (although I haven’t included links to any of the titles as a small tribute to the legwork involved in tracking records down in olden tymes), but hopefully the spirit of sharing knowledge and passions that drove my previous efforts, forged in the pre-internet fanzine world, hasn’t been rendered totally redundant by the 24/7 onslaught of virtual note-comparing in social media.

1. Simeon ten Holt Canto Ostinato (various recordings): This was the most significant discovery for me in the last decade, a piece with over one hundred modules to be played on any instrument but mostly realized over the years with two to four pianos. I first encountered a YouTube live video of four pianists tackling it over the course of 90 minutes or so, then bought a double CD on Brilliant Classics from 2005, also for four pianos, that runs about 2 and half hours. The original 3LP recording on Donemus, from 1984, lasts close to 3 hours. It’s addictively listenable, very hypnotic in that pulsed, Steve Reich “Piano Phase”/”Six Pianos” kind of way, with lots of recurring themes (which differentiates it from Terry Riley’s “In C,” its most obvious structural antecedent). Composed over the span of the 70s, as with Roberto Cacciapaglia’s Sei Note in Logica, it’s an  example of someone contemporaneously taking the ball from Reich or Riley and running with it. Every recording I’ve heard has been enjoyable, I’ve yet to pick a favorite.

2. David Borden Music for Amplified Keyboard Instruments (Red Music, 1981) 3. Mother Mallard’s Portable Masterpiece Co. Like a Duck to Water (Earthquack, 1976): These were some of my most cherished Minimal recordings when I was a teenager in the mid-80s, and are still not particularly well-known; they’re probably the biggest omission in the previous lists (at least from my perspective). Borden formed Mother Mallard, supposedly the first all-synthesizer ensemble, as a trio in the late 60s, although there’s electric piano on the records too. He went on to do music under his own name that hinged on the multi-keyboard Minimalism-meets-Renaissance classical concept he first explored with Mother Mallard, as exemplified by his 12-part series “The Continuing Story of Counterpoint” (a title inspired by both Philip Glass’ “Music in Twelve Parts” and the Beatles’ “The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill”). I first heard Parts 6 & 9 of “Continuing Story” (from Music for Amplified Keyboard Instruments) on Tim Page’s 1980s afternoon radio show on WNYC, and bought the Mother Mallard LPs (Like A Duck is the second, the first is self-titled) from New Music Distribution Service soon after. I mail-ordered the Borden album  from Wayside Music, which had cut-out copies, maybe a year later (c. 1986). I wasn’t much of a synth guy, but I loved the propulsive, rapid-fire counterpoint and fast-changing, lyrical melodies found on these records. “C-A-G-E Part 2,” which occupies side 2 of the Mother Mallard album and utilizes only those pitches, has to be a pinnacle of the Minimal genre. Interestingly, Borden claims to not really be able to “hear” harmony and composes each part of these (generally) three-part inventions individually, all the way through. The two-piano “Continuing Story of Counterpoint Part Two” on the 1985 album Anatidae is also beloved by me, and there was an archival Mother Mallard CD called Music by David Borden (Arbiter, 2003) that’s worth hearing.

4. Charles Curtis/Charles Curtis Trio: Ultra White Violet Light/Sleep (Beau Rivage, 1997): Full disclosure: Charles is a long-time friend, but this record seems forgotten and deserves another look, especially in light of the long-overdue 3CD survey of his performances of other composers’ material that Saltern released last year. This was a double album of four side-long tracks, conceived with the intent that two sides could be played simultaneously, in several different configurations; two of them are Charles solo on cello and sine tones, the others are with a trio and have spoken vocals and rock instrumentation, with cello and the sine tones also thrown into the mix. (I’ve never heard any of the sides combined, although now it would probably be easily achieved with digital mixing software.) The instrumental stuff is the closest you can come to hearing Charles’ beautiful arrangement of Terry Jennings’ legendary “Piece for Cello and Saxophone,” at least until his own recording of it sees the light of day; the same deeply felt cello playing against a sine tone drone. And it would be interesting to see what Slint fans thought of the trio material. Originally packaged in a nifty all-white uni-pak sleeve with a photo print pasted into the gatefold, it was reissued with a different cover on the now-defunct Squealer label on LP and CD but has disappeared since then. Stellar.

5. Arthur Russell Instrumentals 1974 Vol. 2 (Another Side/Crepuscule, 1984) 6. Peter Zummo Zummo with an X (Loris, 1985):  Arthur Russell has posthumously developed a somewhat surprising indie rock audience, mostly for his unique songs and singing as well as his outré disco tracks. But he was also a modern classical composer, with serious Minimal cred—he’s on Jon Gibson’s Songs & Melodies 1973-1977 (see addendum), and played with Henry Flynt and Christer Hennix at one point; his indelible album of vocal and cello sparseness, World of Echo, was partially recorded at Phill Niblock’s loft and of course his Tower of Meaning LP was released on Glass’s Chatham Square label. He’s the one guy in the 70s and 80s (or after, for that matter) who connected the dots between Ali Akbar Khan, the Modern Lovers, Minimalism, and disco as different forms of trance music (taken together, both sides of his disco 12” “In the Light of the Miracle,” which total nearly a half-hour, could arguably be considered one of his Minimalist compositions). Recorded in 1977 & 1978, Instrumentals is an important signpost of the incipient Pop Minimalism impulse, and the first track is a pre-punk precursor to Rhys Chatham and Glenn Branca’s appropriations of the rock band format to pursue Minimal pathways (Chatham is one of the performers in that first piece). The rest, culled from a concert at the Kitchen, features long held tones from horns and strings and is quite graceful, if slightly undercut by Arthur’s own slightly jarring, apparently random edits. [Audika’s 2006 reissue, as part of the double CD First Thought Best Thought, includes a 1975 concert that was slated to be Instrumentals Vol. 1, which shows an even more specific pop/rock/Minimal intersection]. Zummo was a long-term collaborator of Russell’s and his album, which Arthur plays on, is a must for Russell aficionados. The first side is made up of short, plain pieces that repeat various simple intervals and are fairly hard-core Minimalism, but “Song IV,” which occupies all of side two, is like an extended, jammy take on Russell’s disco 12” “Treehouse” and has Bill Ruyle on bongos, who also played on Instrumentals as well as with Steve Reich and Jon Gibson. A recently unearthed concert at Roulette from 1985 is a further, and especially intriguing, example of Russell’s blending of Minimalism and song form. (That same year Arthur played on Elodie Lauten’s The Death of Don Juan--another record I first encountered via Tim Page’s radio show--which I included on Top Ten #3; Lauten as well as Zummo played on the Russell Roulette concert, as their website alleges).

7. Horacio Vaggione La Maquina de Cantar (Cramps, 1978): Another one-off from the late 70s, and yet more evidence of how Minimalism had really caught on as a trend among European composers of the time. Vaggione had a previous duo album with Eduardo Polonio under the name It called Viaje that was noisier electronics, and he went on to do computer music that was likewise more traditionally abstract. But on this sole effort for the Italian label Cramps, as part of their legendary Nova Musicha series, he went for full-on tonality. The title track is like the synth part of “Who Are You” extended for more than fifteen minutes and made a bit squishier; but side 2, “Ending”--already mentioned in the entry on David Rosenboom’s Brainwave Music in Top Ten #3--is my favorite. Kind of a bridge between Minimalism and prog, and a little reminiscent of David Borden’s multiple-synth counterpoint pieces, for the first ten minutes he lingers on one vaguely foreboding arpeggiated chord, then introduces a fanfare melody that repeats and builds in harmonies and countermelodies for the remainder of the piece. Great stuff, as Johnny Carson used to say.

8. Costin Miereanu Derives (Poly-Art, 1984): Miereanu is French composer coming out of musique concrete. Unlike some of the albums on these lists, both sides/pieces on Derives are superb, comprised of long drones with flurries of skittering electronic activity popping up here and there. Also notable is the presence of engineers Philip Besomes and Jean-Louis Rizet, responsible for Pôle, the great mid-70s prog double album that formed the basis of Graham Lambkin’s meta-meisterwork Amateur Doubles. I discovered this record via the old Continuo blog; Miereanu has lots of albums out, most of which I haven’t heard, but his 1975 debut Luna Cinese, another Cramps Nova Musicha item, is also estimable, although less Minimal.

9. Mikel Rouse Broken Consort Jade Tiger (Les Disques du Crepuscule, 1984): Rouse was a major New Music name in the 80s, as was Microscopic Septet saxist Philip Johnston, who plays here. Dominated by Reichian repeated fills that accentuate the odd time signatures as opposed to an underlying pulse, this will sound very familiar to anyone acquainted with Nik Bärtsch’s Ronin albums on ECM, which use the same general idea but brand it “zen funk” and cater more to the progressive jazz crowd rather than New Music fans, if we can be that anachronistic in our terminology. Jade Tiger also contrasts nicely with Wim Mertens’ more neo-Romantic contemporaneous excursions on Crepuscule. Rouse later performed the admirable (and daunting) task of cataloging Arthur Russell’s extensive tape archive for the preparation of Another Thought (Point Music, 1994)

10. Michael Nyman Decay Music (Obscure, 1976): Known for his soundtracks to Peter Greenaway films, and his still-peerless 1974 book Experimental Music: Cage and Beyond (where I, Jim O’Rourke, and doubtless many other intrepid teenage library goers learned of the Minimalists, Fluxus, AMM, and lots of other eternal avant heroes), Nyman is sometimes credited with coining the term “Minimal music” as well, in an early 70s article in The Spectator. Decay Music was produced by Brian Eno for his short-lived but wonderful Obscure label. The first side, “1-100,” was also composed for a Greenaway film, and has one hundred chords played one after another on piano, each advancing to the next once the sound has decayed from the previous chord (hence the album title). For all its delicacy and silences, you’re actually hearing three renditions superimposed on one another, which occasionally makes for some charming chordal collisions (reminiscent of the cheerfully clumsy, subversive “variations” of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D major” on Eno’s own Discreet Music, the most celebrated Obscure release). This is process music at its most fragile and incandescent. In hindsight it may have also been an unconscious influence on the structure of my piece “A New York Minute,” which lines up a month’s worth of weather reports from news radio, edited so that one day’s forecast follows its prediction from the previous day. I’ve never found the album’s other piece, “Bell Set No. 1,” to be quite as compelling, and Nyman’s other soundtrack work doesn’t hold much interest for me, but I’ve often returned to this album.

11. J Dilla Donuts (Stones Throw, 2006): One more for the road. Rightfully acclaimed as a masterpiece of instrumental hip hop, I have to confess I only discovered Donuts while reading Questlove’s 2013 book Mo’ Meta Blues, where he compared it to Terry Riley. The brevity of the tracks (31of ‘em in 44 minutes) and the lack of single-mindedness make categorizing Donuts as a Minimal album a bit of a stretch, but Questlove’s namecheck makes a whole lot of sense if you play “Don’t Cry” back to back with Riley’s proto-Plunderphonic “You’re Nogood,” and “Glazed” is the only hip hop track to ever remind me of Philip Glass. Plus the infinite-loop sequencing of the opening “Outro” and concluding “Intro” make this a statement of Eternal Music that outstrips La Monte Young and leaves any locked groove release in the proverbial dust. There isn’t the space here to really explore how extended mixes, all night disco DJ sets, etc. could be encountered in alignment with Minimalism, although I would steer the curious towards Pete Rock’s Petestrumentals (BBE, 2001), Larry Levan’s Live at the Paradise Garage (Strut, 2000), and, at the risk of being immodest, my own “The Old Victrola” from Plays Well (Crank Automotive, 2001). On a (somewhat) related note I’d also point out Rupie Edwards’ Ire Feelings Chapter and Version (Trojan, 1990) which collects 16 of the producer/performer’s 70s dub reggae tracks, all built from the exact same same rhythm track--mesmerizing, even by dub’s trippy standards. 

Addendum:

Tony Conrad: “Maybe someday Tony’s blistering late 80s piece ‘Early Minimalism’ will be released, or his fabulous harmonium soundtrack to Piero Heliczer’s early 60s film The New Jerusalem.” That was the last line of my entry on Tony’s Outside the Dream Syndicate in the first Top Ten list in 1995, and sure enough, Table of the Elements issued “Early Minimalism” as a monumental CD box set in 1997 and released that soundtrack as Joan of Arc in 2006 (it’s the same film; I saw it screened c. 1990 under the name The New Jerusalem but it’s more commonly known as Joan of Arc).  Tony releases proliferated in the last twenty years of his life, which was heartening to see; I’d particularly single out Ten Years Alive on the Infinite Plain (Superior Viaduct, 2017), which rescues a 1972 live recording of what is essentially a prototype for Outside played by Tony, Rhys Chatham, and Laurie Spiegel (Rhys has mentioned his initial disgruntlement upon hearing Outside, as it was the same piece that he had played with Tony, i.e. “Ten Years Alive,” but he found himself and Laurie replaced by Faust!) and an obscure compilation track, “DAGADAG for La Monte” (on Avanto 2006, Avanto, 2006), where he plays the pitches d, a, and g on violin, loops them over and over , and continually re-harmonizes them electronically--really one of his best pieces.

Terry Riley: The archival Riley CDs that Cortical Foundation issued in the 90s and early 00s don’t seem to be in print, but I feel they eclipse Reed Streams (reissued by Cortical as part of that series) and are crucial for fans of his early work, especially the live Poppy Nogood’s Phantom Band All Night Flight Vol. 1, an important variant on the studio take, and You’re Nogood (see Dilla entry above). These days I would also recommend Descending Moonshine Dervishes (Kuckuck, 1982/recorded 1975) over  Persian Surgery Dervishes (Shandar, 1975), which I mentioned in the original entry on Reed Streams in the first Top Ten; a lot of the harmonic material in Descending can also be heard in Terry’s dream-team 1975 meeting with Don Cherry in Köln, which has been bootlegged several times in the last few years. Finally, Steffen Schleiermacher recorded the elusive “Keyboard Study #1” (as well as “#2,” which had already seen release in a version by Germ on the BYG label and as “Untitled Organ” on Reed Streams), albeit on a programmed electronic keyboard, on the CD Keyboard Studies (MDG, 2002). As you might expect it’s a little synthetic-sounding, but it also has a weird kinetic edge (imagine the “Baba O’Riley” intro being played on a Conlon Nancarrow player piano) that’s lacking in later acoustic piano renditions recorded by Gregor Schwellenbach and Fabrizio Ottaviucci. But any of these versions is rewarding for those interested in Riley’s early output.

Henry Flynt, Charlemagne Palestine: A few of the artists on that first Top Ten list went from being sorely under-documented to having a plethora of material on the market, and Henry and Charlemagne are at the top of the heap. I stand by You Are My Everlovin, finally reissued on CD by Recorded in 2001, as Henry’s peak achievement, but I’m also partial to “Glissando,” a tense, feverish raga drone from 1979 that Recorded put out on the Glissando No. 1 CD in 2011. Charlemagne’s Four Manifestations On Six Elements double album still holds up well, as does an album of material initially recorded for it, Arpeggiated Bösendorfer and Falsetto Voice (Algha Marghen, 2017). The Strumming Music LP on Shandar is a definitive performance, and best heard as an unbroken piece on the New Tone CD reissue from 1995. Godbear (CD on Barooni, vinyl on Black Truffle), originally recorded for Glenn Branca’s Neutral label (which had also scheduled a Phill Niblock release before going belly-up), has 1987 takes of “Strumming Music” and two other massive pieces that date from the late 70s, “Timbral Assault” and “The Lower Depths”; Algha Marghen released a vintage full-length concert of the latter as a triple CD.

Steve Reich: Not a particularly rare record, but his “Variations on Winds, Strings and Keyboards,” a 1979 piece for orchestra on a 1984 LP issued by Phillips (paired with an orchestral arrangement of John Adams’ “Shaker Loops”), is often overlooked among the works from his “golden era” and I’d frankly rate it as his best orchestral piece.

Phill Niblock, Eliane Radigue: As with Henry and Charlemagne, after a slow start as “recording artists” loads of CDs by these two have appeared over the last twenty years. Phill and Eliane’s music was never best served by the vinyl format anyway—you won’t find a lackluster release by either composer, go to it.

Jon Gibson: I called “Cycles,” from Gibson’s Two Solo Pieces, “one of the ultimate organ drones on record” in the first Top Ten list, and it remains so, but Phill Niblock’s”Unmounted/Muted Noun” from 2019′s Music for Organ ought to sit right beside it. Meanwhile, Superior Viaduct’s recent Gibson double album Songs & Melodies 1973-1977 collects some great pieces from the same era as Two Solo Pieces, with players including Arthur Russell, Peter Zummo, Barbara Benary, and Julius Eastman. 

John Stevens: In Top Ten #2 I mentioned John Stevens’ presence on the first side of John Lennon & Yoko Ono’s Life With the Lions; the Stevens-led Spontaneous Music Orchestra’s For You To Share (1973) documents his performance pieces “Sustained Piece” and “If You Want to See A Vision,” where musicians and vocalists sustain tones until they run out of breath and then begin again, which result in a highly meditative and organic drone/sound environment. In my early 00′s Digger Choir performances at Issue Project Room  we did “Sustained Piece,” and Stevens’ work was a big influence on conceptualizing those concerts, where the only performers were the audience themselves. The CD reissue on Emanem from 1998 added “Peace Music,” an unreleased studio half-hour studio cut with a similar Gagaku--meets--free/modal jazz vibe. I also mentioned “Sustained Piece” in my liner notes to Natural Information Society’s Mandatory Reality too, if that helps as a point of reference.

Anthony Moore: Back in ’97 I wondered “How and why Polydor was convinced to release these albums [Pieces from the Cloudland Ballroom and Scenes from the Blue Bag] is beyond me (anyone know the story)?” That mystery was ultimately solved by Benjamin Piekut in his fascinating-even-if-you-never-listen-to-these-guys book Henry Cow: The World is A Problem (Duke University Press, 2019)—it turns out it was all Deutsche Gramophone’s idea!

Terry Jennings, Maryanne Amacher, Julius Eastman--“Three Great Minimalists With No Commercially Available Recordings” (sidebar from Minimal Top Ten list #2): Happily this no longer applies to these three, although Terry and Maryanne are still under-represented. One archival recording of Jennings and Charlotte Moorman playing a short version of “Piece for Cello and Saxophone” appeared on Moorman’s 2006 Cello Anthology CD box set on Alga Marghen, and he’s on “Terry’s Cha Cha” on that 2004 John Cale New York in the 60s Table of the Elements box too. John Tilbury recorded five of his piano pieces on Lost Daylight (Another Timbre, 2010) and Charles Curtis’ version of “Song” appears on the aforementioned Performances and Recordings 1998-2018 triple CD.

Whether or not Maryanne should really be considered a Minimalist (or a sound artist, for that matter) is, I guess, debatable, but I primarily see her as the unqualified genius of the generation of composers who emerged in the post-Cage era, and the classifications ultimately don’t matter—remember she was on those Swarm of Drones/ Throne of Drones/ Storm of Drones ambient techno comps in the 90s, and I’d call her music Gothic Industrial if it would get more people to check it out (and that might be fun to try, come to think of it). She made a belated debut with the release of the Sound Characters CD on Tzadik in 1998, an event I found significant enough to warrant pitching an interview with her to the WIRE, who agreed—it was my first piece for them. Her music was/is best experienced live (the Amacher concert I saw at the Performing Garage in 1993 is still, almost three decades later, the greatest concert I’ve ever witnessed) but that Tzadik CD is reasonably representative, and there was a sequel CD on Tzadik in 2008. More recently Blank Forms issued a live recording of her two-piano piece “Petra” (a concert I also attended, realizing when I got there that it was in the same Chelsea church where Connie Burg, Melissa Weaver and I recorded with Keiji Haino for the Gerry Miles with Keiji Haino CD).  While it’s somewhat anomalous in Amacher’s canon, making a piece for acoustic instruments available for home consumption would doubtless have been more palatable to the composer herself, who rightly felt that CDs and LPs didn’t do justice to the extraordinary psychoacoustic phenomena intrinsic to her electronic music. “Petra” is more reminiscent of Morton Feldman than anything else, with a few passages that could be deemed “minimal.” Some joker posted a 26-minute, ancient lo-fi “bootleg” (their term) recording of her “Living Sound, Patent Pending” piece from her Music for Sound-Joined Rooms installation/performance series on SoundCloud, which is a little like looking at a Xerox of a Xerox of a photo of the Taj Mahal; but you can still visit the Taj Mahal more easily than hearing this or any of Maryanne’s work in concert or in situ, so sadly, it’s better than nothing (and longer than the 7 minute edit of the piece on the Ohm: Early Gurus of Electronic Music CD from 2000).

A few years after Top Ten #2 I was on the phone with an acquaintance at New World Records, who told me he was listening to a Julius Eastman tape that they were releasing as part of a 3CD set. Say what?!?!? Unjust Malaise appeared shortly thereafter and was a revelation. Arnold Dreyblatt had sent me a live tape some time before then of an Eastman piece labeled “Gangrila”—that turned out to be “Gay Guerrilla,” and is surely one of my five favorite pieces of music in existence (the tape Arnold sent was from the 1980 Kitchen European tour and I consider it to be a more moving performance than the Chicago concert that appears on the CD, although it’s an inferior recording). The other multiple piano pieces on Unjust Malaise more than lived up to the descriptions of Eastman performances that I’d read. The somewhat berserk piano concert I mentioned in that entry seems similar to another live tape issued as The Zurich Concert (New World, 2017), and “Femenine,” a piece performed by the S.E.M. Ensemble, came out on Frozen Reeds in 2016. Eastman’s rediscovery is among the most vital and gratifying developments of recent music history--kudos must be given to Mary Jane Leach, herself a Minimalist composer, for diligently and doggedly tracking down Eastman’s recordings and archival materials and bringing them to the light of day.

The Lost Jockey—I was unaware of any releases by this group besides their Crepuscule LP until I stumbled onto a self-titled cassette from 1983 on YouTube. Like the album, the highlight is a piece by Orlando Gaugh--an all-time great Philip Glass rip-off, “Buzz Buzz Buzz Went the Honeybee,” which has the amusing added bonus of having the singers intoning the rather bizarre title phrase as opposed to Glassian solfège. Also like the album, he rest of the cassette is so-so Pop Minimalism.

Earth: Dylan Carlson keeps on keepin’ on, and while I can’t say I’ve kept up with him every step of the way, usually when I check in I’m glad I did. However I’d like to take this opportunity to humbly disavow the snarky comments about Sunn 0))) I made in this entry in Top Ten list #3. Those were a reflection of my general aversion to hype, which was surrounding them at the time, and of seeing two shows that in retrospect were unrepresentative (I was thunderstruck by a later show I saw in Mexico City in 2009). Stephen O’Malley has proven to be as genuinely curious, dedicated and passionate about drone and other experimental music as they come, and the reissue of the mind-blowing Sacred Flute Music from New Guinea on his Ideologic Organ label is a good reminder of how rooted Minimalism is in ethnic music, and how almost interchangeable certain examples of both can be. 

And while we’re in revisionist mode, let’s go full circle all the way back to the very first sentence of the introduction to the first Minimal Top Ten: “I know what you’re thinking: ECM Records, New Age, Eno ambients, NPR, Tangerine Dream. Well forget all that shit.” Hey, that stuff’s not so bad! I was probably directing that more at the experimental-phobic indie rock folks I encountered at the time, and expressing a lingering resentment towards the genre-confusion of the 80s (i.e. having dig through a bunch of Kitaro records in the New Age bins in hopes of finding Reich, Riley, or Glass; even Loren Mazzacane got tagged New Age once in a while back then, believe it or not), which probably hindered my own discovery of Minimalism. What can I say, I’m over it!

Copyright © 2020 Alan Licht. All rights reserved. Do not repost without permission.

[xsteriism]

Hey congrats on 300 followers 🥳 also as a prompt can we just have some fluffy IronDad and SpiderSon making pancakes, when you get the chance of course :3

Hello!! Thank you for the prompt! I hope you enjoy it, I enjoyed writing it xD

I’m also sorry for not writing in so long (the chirstmas thing doesnt really count), ive been struggling recently but its okay bc im bACK BABY

——

“It’s too early for this,” Tony sighs, putting the recipe he printed on the marble counter. What made him think that waking up early to make pancakes from scratch was a good idea? Ah, yes, the little spider-ling who was currently sleeping in his bedroom because he had a nightmare. The things he would do and the extents he would go for the boy baffled him sometimes.

Reluctantly, the engineer picked up the piece of paper, trudging around the pristine kitchen to gather the ingredients and cutlery. He really should be increasing his pace if he wanted to finish the pancakes before Peter woke up, especially since the teen had super-hearing and may wake to the sound of clanging. But really, Tony had maybe three hours of sleep, too busy chasing the nightmares away from the young hero, so his sluggishness could be excused.

Looking at all the ingredients displayed before him and the recipe that seemed to mock him for his incompetence in the kitchen, Tony wonders if he should ask Pepper for help. Alas, his CEO had already left the penthouse to do CEO things, being the responsible adult she is and all, so the poor billionaire was left to his own devices.

And honestly? With how he burnt an omelette after taking hours to make it, Tony doesn’t have much hope with the pancakes. He was still going to try, of course, but just looking at the recipe hurt his brain. How did professional chefs do this? Mechanics and fixing things was much easier, in his opinion.

Tony looks at everything displayed before him and sighs again. Hopefully, with any luck, Peter won’t wake up to burnt pancakes and Pepper won’t come back to a messy kitchen.

——

Peter wakes up with a headache, as expected after the nightmares and crying himself to sleep. He hears the distinct sound of clanging, then a crash, followed by a curse, and decides that he has no time to sleep off his headache.

Rolling his heavy body out of bed, the teen slips his feet into soft and fluffy bunny slippers before dragging himself to the kitchen. In the hallway, with the perfect view of the kitchen, he sees the mess that is the kitchen.

Mr. Stark is wearing an apron that read ‘I am the boss,’ looking anything but a boss. There is a bowl filled with some sort of batter splattered on the kitchen floor and… was that flour in his hair? He watches as his mentor pulls his hair, staring in distress at the sight of the mess that he made, cursing with a frown on his face.

“Um…” Peter starts and he has to hide his smile behind his hand when his mentor whips around with the most guilty expression he has ever seen. “Mr. Stark? Are you okay?”

“Okay? Do I look—” the adult takes a deep breath, looking like he’d rather be in his lab than in the kitchen. “I’m okay, I’m totally fine. Everything’s going exactly as planned—”

Peter eyes the mess on the floor, watching as the thick batter spreads. “Do you want my help?”

“No, I don’t want your help. I’m a grown adult and I can do adult things like cook pancakes,” Mr. Stark said, following Peter’s gaze and they both stare at the growing mess. “Okay, maybe I do need your help.”

“Yay! Let’s make pancakes together!” The young hero cheers, smiling brightly. They start afresh by clearing the ruined batter on the ground because Peter is a good boy and they can’t possibly work with the mess mocking them on the floor.

They measure the ingredients perfectly, as stated on the recipe, and separates them into different bowls. Then, they dump the ingredients together and laugh when they whip too hard, causing some batter to fly and smack them in the face.

Of course, they are science geniuses, so the next part would be a little tricky for there was no math involved. Plus, with Tony’s lack of culinary skills and May as Peter’s guardian, they were bound to fail.

“Oil! Oil! Did you put oil?” Peter asks frantically when his mentor looked as if he was going to dump the batter straight into the pan. “Where’s the oil?”

And when they got that under control…

“What do you mean ‘when the edges are brown’?” Peter yells at the phone, the paper with the recipe and instructions that Tony printed long forgotten. “I need numbers, how long do we need to wait before we flip?”

Tony’s face was directly over the pan, squinting at the batter. “It doesn’t look very brown on the edges, so maybe a while longer?”

The younger rushes over, squeezing his head beside his mentor’s to see what was going on in the pan. They looked like two young children, watching something for the first time.

“Do we flip now?” Tony asks when a particularly large bubble forms. “Quick, Pete, google ‘mistakes to avoid when making pancakes.’”

While Peter does as instructed, Tony decides that they’ve waited too long and flips the pancake over, watching in horror as the pancake is completely burnt. The engineer just thanks the lord they have more batter to experiment on. This was like science. Kind of. Trail and error.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter wails, throwing his head back dramatically. “The site says to ‘have faith that the pancake will let you know when it’s ready to flip.’ What does that mean?”

The younger paused, suddenly standing up straight. “Wait, does our pancake have to sentient? It has to let us know… what? I’m confused, Mr. Stark. Math is much easier than whatever this is.”

The billionaire nodded, dumping the burnt pancake onto a plate. He scoops more batter into the pan and hopes he won’t mess up again. “I don’t think we’re cut out for this.”

“Ya think, Mr. Stark? We belong in the lab,” Peter whines, running his hand down his face, unaware of the residual flour on his hands. “The kitchen is our hell.”

Before they can complain more, the elevator doors open, and Ms. Potts steps out. She paused at the sight of Peter’s flour-stained face, and the burnt pancake, and Tony’s dishevelled appearance.

“What happened? I came up to get some documents and this is what greets me?” Ms. Potts teases, smiling cheekily. She walks over to the singular brunt pancake, picking it up with her bare hands. “What is this?”

Tony rushes over to snatch the thing out of her hands, forgetting about the batter he just poured into the pan. “This is a pancake, thank you very much.”

While the two adults bicker, Peter smells the faint scent of burnt and curiously looks around. When he notices smoke coming from the pan, he runs over, shouting, “Mr. Stark! You burnt another pancake!”

Before any of the three can do something about it, F.R.I.D.A.Y activates the sprinklers and cool water rains upon them in the kitchen. Ms. Potts shields the documents in her hand with her body, while the other two just stand there and accept their fate.

“That’s it,” Peter winces as Ms. Potts starts to speak. “None of you are allowed in my kitchen ever again!”

Tony smiles guiltily as he thinks, ‘well, Peter didn’t wake up to burnt pancakes and Pepper didn’t come back to a messy kitchen— it was just the opposite.’

——

tags: @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad @the-world-will-end-guy @hollandrecs

[lyssismagical]

Darken the Sky, Light up the Moon

Day Three of Whumptober: Delirium 

Read on AO3

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tony demands, glaring at the doctor.

Banner sighs, scrubbing a hand harshly over his tired face. “I’m sorry, Tony. Cho’s done every test in the book and outside the books too. We’ve tried but there’s not much we can tell you. We’ve never had to deal with this before.”

“You’ve never had to deal with a brain injury before?” the billionaire says, voice raising to nearly a shout.

“For one, I’m not that kind of doctor in the first place, but I meant that we haven’t dealt with a brain injury on an enhanced individual before. Peter’s… capabilities are different to anything we’ve worked with before and we haven’t had the chance to properly test everything out yet. I’m not saying we couldn’t, but I just-”

“What do you know?” Tony asks, taking deep breaths to try to stop the panic that’s bubbling inside him. The last thing he needs right now is a panic attack. “All you’re giving me is ifs and maybes. I need something solid.”

Banner moves anxiously to the sink in the room and peels off his gloves. He starts washing his green-tinged hands and sighs again.

“Honestly?” he says. “Not much. Not enough, at least. We’ve seen the Baby Monitor Protocol; we know how it happened. We know he has a brain injury. We have the CT scan and the MRI and everything else to base our assumptions off of. If he were a regular individual, he would’ve been dead already, Tony, so it’s hard to say when he’ll be better.”

“Fuck,” Tony breathes unintelligently in response. His phone rings in his pocket, declining yet another call from Pepper.

Bruce leaves, probably to go check on Peter, who’s still too unstable for any visitors, with a quick suggestion to call Pepper and let her know what’s going on and maybe try to get in touch with Doctor Strange. Cho’s a real doctor, one of the best, but having a sorcerer might give them a little bit more luck with Peter’s state.

“Hey, Pep,” Tony breathes, finding a chair in the waiting room area. “It’s not looking great.”

“What’s going on?” Pepper asks. Tony has trouble thinking he’s the only one who cares about Peter, but Pepper loves the kid to the moon and back, as well.

“TBI,” Tony replies. “He got hurt real bad on patrol and I guess… They’ve done scans, but they don’t know what’s going to happen. They don’t- They can’t even guess.”

Pepper sighs heavily. Morgan’s asking questions and making a lot of noise in the background, but Pepper says she just thinks Peter’s sick.

“He is sick.” Tony runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “He might- They’re not even sure if he’ll wake up or not. All they know is if he didn’t have his healing, he would’ve died.”

“But he does have his healing, Tony. He’s been through a lot; this isn’t what’s going to take him down.”

“A bullet went into his fucking skull,” Tony spits, more angrily than he should. He knows Pepper’s just trying to help, but she doesn’t get it. She didn’t watch the bullet. “A few centimeters over and he would’ve died. Not just should’ve. This isn’t- this isn’t just a few broken bones or a stab wound. This is- He has a traumatic brain injury, Pepper. This isn’t-”

Pepper shushes Morgan gently. “Tony, I know, take a deep breath. I know this is scary, but Peter’s a strong kid-”

“Kid, Pepper, key word there. He’s a kid. A child. And he’s- they had to take a bullet out of his fucking head-”

“I know, I know, honey. I’m sorry.”

Tony huffs, sliding a hand over his face, scared to find tears all down his cheeks, he hadn’t even realized he was crying.

“Take care of Morgan for me?”

“Of course, Tony. Update us when you can.”

*

Tony’s finally been allowed to sit at Peter’s hospital bedside. It’s not much better than sitting in the waiting room on an uncomfortable chair – Friday already has a note reminding him to change them into something comfier.

Peter looks young lying in the white sheets, thick bandages wrapped around his forehead. Apparently the external healing is already almost complete, but they’re not even sure he’s capable of the internal healing. And if he is, the process of getting there, might take years of hard work. For the TBI patients Cho’s helped before, sometimes they never get past it.

Research was pretty easy, there’s studies and personal stories all over the internet that Tony’s had a fun (read: awful) time reading through. It scares him that those are some of the things his kid might have to deal with depending on the extent of his healing factor.

Right now, Peter’s on some heavy sedatives and even heavier pain medication. Banner’s busy synthesizing some more that’ll hopefully help him a little bit more than the one’s he’s on now. It doesn’t help as much as it should, but it’s hard to find the balance between an overdose and enough for Peter’s high metabolism.

Peter’s hand is cold in his. That’s one of the only things Tony can think about.

(He can’t think about Peter’s ghostly pale face and his unresponsive corpse-like body. How he’s almost always a restless ball of energy, even in his sleep, but now he’s still. He can’t think about that. He’s too dehydrated to start crying again.)

His hand helps warm Peter’s up and he can almost pretend Peter’s just fine. Almost.

*

Peter wakes up coughing. It startles Tony awake from where’d been dozing in the chair beside the bed.

Tony doesn’t have to think about how Peter’s finally, finally, awake, he just hurries over to the little sink in the room and gets the kid a glass of water to drink.

“Take it slow, kid.”

Peter sips at the water, movements uncoordinated and clumsy. He nearly spills it down the front of his hospital gown but catches himself. Peter’s always been a bit of a klutz, but never this bad. He’s always had his spidey-powers on his side.

When Peter’s done, Tony fusses over him, taking the cup and fluffing the pillows, and checking all of Peter’s IVs.

Peter’s watching him, pupils dilated more than usual and glazed too. Tony suspects it’s the drugs, but then Peter speaks up.

“Ben?” he slurs. “What- What happened? I… the last thing I remember is… is May’s terrible meatloaf…”

Tony flinches hard. That was at least eight years ago, with the five-year gap. Only at least three years ago for Peter, but that’s still a lot of time for him to forget. Peter doesn’t even know Tony; he thinks Tony is Ben.

It’s an impulse decision, it really is, but the last thing Tony wants to do is scare Peter more. So he brushes back Peter’s curls and throws on the gentlest smile he can manage.

“We just got into an accident, Pete,” Tony says, trying his hardest to make sure his voice doesn’t crack. “You’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Peter nods a few times, blinking too slowly like he isn’t grasping anything. He probably isn’t.

“You okay?” Tony asks quietly, gently cupping Peter’s soft cheek.

The kid tips his head to the side, glazed eyes struggling to find Tony’s.

“Ben?” he says slowly, like he can’t get control of his tongue. “What- What happened? The last thing- I can’t remember-”

Tony’s heart breaks just a little bit more. “Just an accident, Pete. You’ll be back on your feet before you know it.”

“Okay,” Peter murmurs. His eyes are closed now, leaning into Tony’s touch. “Loud.”

If it weren’t for Peter’s sensory overloads and Tony’s experience dealing with them, Tony probably wouldn’t have understood.

“Hey, Fri? Could you enable Goodnight Moon Protocol,” Tony murmurs. Immediately, all the lights are dimmed, and external noises are dimmed to nothing. The equipment by Peter’s bed are all quieted, but they can’t be totally silenced.

“What…” Peter starts saying but trails off before he can finish.

“What was that, Pete?” Tony asks.

Peter jolts a little bit, dull eyes struggling to focus again. “What- Ben?”

“Yeah, Pete?”

“Where- Where are we? What… Happened? What happened?”

“Just an accident. You’ll be all better in no time.”

*

“You can’t go in there, Tony,” Banner says, blocking the doorway.

Tony had only been gone for ten minutes, about an hour after Peter had fallen back to sleep. Enough time to have a breakdown and make himself a coffee.

“Why not?” Tony demands, hands clenching around his mug. He sets it down on the windowsill, worried his shaking hands will drop it. And it’s his World’s Best Dad Mug with the boss crossed out and Boss written in Peter’s messy, scrawling handwriting with a stupid little smiley face. And then the Boss is crossed out and Dad is written underneath with another little smile.

“He had a seizure while you were gone,” the doctor replies bluntly. “We’re still stabilizing him.”

Tony’s heart drops. “He- fuck, Bruce. You should’ve seen him. He thought I was his Uncle Ben and he couldn’t- He could only remember things Pre-Spiderbite. I just- I played along. I didn’t want to scare him, but that’s eight years he’s missing. He’s not going to-”

“For all we know, this could be his brain’s way of healing. Amnesia and delirium are both pretty normal with brain injuries. It could be a good sign that he’s having those symptoms. And that he was awake so soon.”

Tony covers his face with his hands, taking a few steadying breaths to try to chase off his tears.

“Be honest with me,” Tony says, keeping his face hidden. “Is he going to be okay? I know you don’t know, but give me your best guess here, doc.”

Bruce sighs. “Cho thinks he’ll be okay, but that the symptoms will last either a long time or forever. I… I’ve had a little bit more experience in Peter’s biological compositions with his metabolism and healing factor while synthesizing his medications, so I might have a little more knowledge than her in that area, but I’d have the best guess as her. I think Peter’s going to pull through. I think he’ll be back on his feet and that this amnesia he’s dealing with is only temporary. I think he’ll be okay, but like Cho said, his symptoms might last a really long time, Tony. The forgetfulness, the confusion, the delirium. Who knows.”

Tony presses his fists into his eyes, shoulders hunching over himself as he continues to struggle to bring his walls up and push his emotions down.

“Doctor Strange is going to be here in a few days’ time, so hopefully he might have a better idea of how Peter’s doing, but for now, he needs you,” Bruce continues. “Whether it’s as Tony or as Uncle Ben or as whoever he needs you to be. I know it’s asking a lot, but I think right now, Peter just needs someone to answer his questions, even if he’s asking the same ones over and over again.”

“I have Morgan,” Tony says, trying to laugh. It comes out forced and hoarse and all wrong. “She’s constantly asking me the same qusestions. I think I’ll have enough patience for Peter.”

The patience isn’t really the issue, it’s whether or not Tony can endure Peter being so lost without breaking in front of him.

*

Peter is unresponsive once he settled after the seizure. His eyes are open, but they’re hazy and dull like he isn’t taking anything in. He’s awake but not really. He might as well be asleep.

Tony takes his hand anyway, sitting in the chair beside his bed. He has a feeling that this chair will become more of a home to him than the cabin at this rate.

“Hey, kiddo. I don’t know how much you’re listening, but if you are, I just wanted you to know I’m here. I’m sorry I left earlier. Just had to get myself a cup of coffee,” Tony says, voice too loud in the silent room except for the steady noises of the machines at Peter’s side. “I… I heard you had a pretty nasty seizure, bud. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, at least for support. I, uh, I’m here now, though. I’m going to keep you safe, okay?”

Peter just blinks slowly at the ceiling in response, fingers twitching in Tony’s strong grip.

It’s weird to know that Peter’s there and awake and alive, but not acting at all like himself. No excited or nervous rambling, no constantly jittery movement, no bright smiles or loud laughter. It’s like he’s not even Peter anymore.

It reminds Tony a little too much of the months after the Snap was reversed. Everything was different, Peter was dealing with the fact that he’d died, Tony nearly died, and May had died during those five years in a car accident. Peter had struggled a lot with his mental health throughout those first few months before he allowed Tony, his friends, and the other remaining Avengers to help him flourish once again.

“I know this is scary, bud, but I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’ll keep you safe. I love you.”

It’s not the first time he’s said that he’s loved Peter. After the snap was reversed, it was common for them to say I love you, all the time. Goodmorning, I love you. Goodnight, I love you. Goodbye, I love you. It’s less common now, just once a day more or less because it doesn’t need to be verbalized to be known.

“I love you, kiddo. You’ll pull through.”

*

Morgan desperately wants to visit her big brother, promising everything to be allowed to see him. But Tony’s not sure it’s a good idea. It’ll be too hard for Peter’s brain to understand since he can’t remember anything post-spiderbite. And also because Morgan’s not going to understand that Peter’s not going to know who she is.

Tony doesn’t want to put either of his kids through that, so he settles for letting Morgan send them a Get Well Soon card. Drawn in every crayon colour with pictures of sunshine and superheroes.

“Who’s this from?” Peter asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Visually, he looks one hundred percent again. He looks healthy and strong, but it’s obvious that he’s not when he asks questions like that. “Who’s Morgan?”

Tony tries to offer a smile, running a hand through Peter’s curls. “She’s family. Distant.”

Surprisingly, Peter just nods and sets the card back on his nightstand, picking up the box of chocolates from Pepper. He pops a caramel one into his mouth with a smile.

“When’s May gonna be here?”

Tony flinches, the loss still sitting heavily on his chest.

“She’s, uh, she’s busy, kid. Sorry. She’s not going to be visiting for a little while. That okay?”

A sad expression crosses Peter’s face, a little confused and dazed like always, but at least he’s present. He looks pained all of a sudden.

“Is Skip visiting?” he asks quietly.

“Do you want him to?” Tony asks. He doesn’t know who Skip is, but if Peter wants to see him, he’d do anything to track him down and get him here.

Peter frowns, shifting uncomfortably. “No, thanks… If that’s okay? I’d rather it just be us and May whenever she can get here.”

“That’s fine, kid. You don’t need to have any visitors if you don’t want any.”

The Get Well Card and the box of chocolates on the nightstand from Pepper and Morgan, the balloons tied to the end of the bed from Happy and Rhodey, the vase of flowers from the Avengers. That’ll have to do.

*

Peter wakes up gasping, tears racing down his pale cheeks, limbs flailing under the hospital sheets, tangled in them.

“Hey, hey, hey, kiddo. It’s okay. You’re in the hospital. You’re okay,” Tony says quickly, hands catching Peter by the elbows to still his movements. Instantly, Peter falls like a marionette into Tony’s chest, heaving for breath.

“I- I dreamt I… I thought I died,” Peter cries, burying his face in Tony’s shirt.

If Tony thought he had any fragments of heart left after the past few days, he might’ve felt them break. Peter did die. Nearly a year ago. And yet, he doesn’t remember it. And Tony won’t remind him. He couldn’t do that to his kid. Not after everything.

There’s a part of amnesia for a superhero that almost seems appealing. Peter can’t remember the majority of grief that’s come out of his life. He can’t remember his uncle’s death, his own death, Tony’s near death, May’s death, the whole ordeal that went down just last summer in Europe. He can’t remember Toomes or Thanos or even Germany.

And maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better that Peter can’t remember all of the shit he’s been through.

On the other hand, though, that means Peter can’t remember any of the good that came out of it either. His little sister, Morgan. Tony adopting Peter officially. Pepper becoming his stepmother. Peter’s acceptance into his dream University. The amazing things he’s done as Spider-Man.

All of that is gone too.

Tony just holds Peter tight and hopes that whatever happens, he’ll be allowed to be at Peter’s side through it.

*

“Peter’s strong enough to do as he pleases,” Bruce says. “I’d suggest daily checkups with me or Cho, but if he wants to move throughout the tower, he can. I’m sure he’s dying to get out of that bed.”

“It’s only been a week, Banner. Don’t you think this is a little soon?” Eight days since Peter got hurt, seven since he woke up. Tony’s barely slept.

Bruce shrugs. “He’s pretty much healed externally. There’s not even a scar. But you’ve seen it. He’s getting irritable and annoyed at being kept in there when he thinks he feels fine.”

“The symptoms are still pretty strong,” Cho adds in, flipping to a page on her clipboard. “I mean, delirium, long-term and short-term memory loss, confusion, irritability, difficulty concentrating, increased sensitivity to light and sound, some slurred speech or slow speech. He’s mentioned some blurry vision issues, ringing in his ears, frequent pain, insomnia, and he’s had three seizures.”

“We’re pretty positive he won’t develop anymore symptoms as he begins to heal, but there’s not much we can do to help him other than keeping him comfortable,” Bruce says with another shrug. “We’ve tried predicting how long all of this will last and we’re hoping it’ll all go away pretty quickly, especially with him dreaming about the time period he’s missing, but we aren’t too sure.”

Tony gives himself thirty seconds of panic, lets it all wash over him for half a minute, before he’s carefully tucking all his emotions away once again.

“Doctor Strange is coming by today. We’ll see what he says, and we’ll work from there.”

Tony didn’t want to say it, but he didn’t want Peter to leave the hospital room because he’s not sure he could explain why Peter’s in the tower without breaking the kid’s brain more.

*

Turns out, Doctor Strange didn’t have much more to offer.

Full of Ifs and Maybes.

Which wasn’t good enough when he’s talking about Tony’s kid. He needs certainty before he makes any decisions.

He can’t risk losing his kid when he only just got him back.

He can’t.

*

Hospitals are weird and warp time.

Tony never has any idea what time of the day, day of the week, week of the month, unless he looks at his watch. He wouldn’t know. The blinds to the window are closed all the time due to Peter’s light sensitivity he’s dealing with. Tony rarely ever leaves Peter’s side, not wanting him to feel alone and small in the unfamiliar hospital room by himself.

The docs bring him and Peter food and coffee whenever they ask for it, always prepared to be a helping hand, and Tony’s become all too familiar with the added couch in the hospital room for naps whenever he gets too tired.

Ever schedule he has is thrown off the charts, but he can’t find it in himself to care. It’s all for Peter. Always. Even if Peter still thinks he’s Ben.

Pepper and Morgan facetime him whenever they both can, whenever Peter’s sleeping and Morgan’s home. A rare occurrence, especially because of Peter’s insomnia and nightmares.

He feels more alone than he should.

He feels like a fraud, pretending to be Peter’s late Uncle.

Lying to the kid about why May can’t visit, playing along with who the Get Well Soon gifts are from, pretending to be someone he’s not.

It’s all wrong and Tony spends about an hour every few days crying in the shower so Peter will never know about the emotional toll this has taken on him.

*

“Can I tell you a secret?” Peter says, out of the blue on one of his Lesser days. The days where he’s less receptive and less aware. His eyes are trained on the TV, but he isn’t taking any of it in.

Tony squeezes Peter’s hand. “Course, bud.”

“I heard you talking the other day,” Peter says, sniffling. He’s gotten a little bit better with his short-term memory. He remembers where he is when he wakes up and he’ll remember why he thinks he’s there, and he can hold conversations for a few minutes now.

“Hm?”

“You were talking to… Morgan and Pepper?” Peter says, confusion and concentration filling his face. “Your wife and child? You’re not Ben, are you? I’m just- my head’s just fucked up isn’t it?”

Tony sighs. “No, I’m not Ben. I’m Tony. You, um, there’s a lot you don’t remember.”

“I dreamt he died last night.” Peter swallows thickly, watery eyes refusing to look at Tony. He pulls his hand away. “Is it true? Did that happen?”

“I’m sorry, kid.”

“Could you- I just- I don’t know what to do.” Peter sits up suddenly, nearly hitting his head against Tony’s in his haste to get up. “Can we go outside? Am I allowed to leave? I need some air.”

Tony takes Peter out to the field behind the tower, a ring of trees separating the grassy area from the rest of the city. Peter’s changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, and he sits down on the grass, staring blankly at the trees swaying gently in the breeze.

Tony keeps his distance, unsure of where they stand. He knew this would happen eventually; he just couldn’t ever anticipate how Peter would feel about it.

“Is May gone too?” Peter asks, voice breaking.

“I’m sorry, kid.”

It’s silent as they both watch the steady traffic through the trees.

*

It’s been three days since Peter found out Tony was lying. It wasn’t this instant falling into place of all his memories, but he’s been able to see through the cracks sometimes. If he sees something he knows, he’s reminded of some things he’s forgotten.

His short-term memory is definitely on the way to mended. His pain levels are still pretty high, Banner has him on some pretty strong pain meds that don’t make him as drowsy, pill form as well instead of the IV he normally has. Some of his other symptoms have started fading away, but he’s still a little bit more sensitive to light and sound, but they’ve been able to open the blinds for a few hours in the evening without Peter getting a headache. And his concentration is still much lower than it used to be.

Cho says that it’s miraculous that he’s been able to heal as much as he has in only a few short weeks. She says it’s still possible for his symptoms to get worse again, but that he should be okay to be discharged from the hospital by the end of the week. She also says Peter now needs to be incredibly careful not to have any more head injuries as they could be life-threatening, even if it’s just a concussion.

That thought terrifies Tony because concussions were something Peter got regularly while out on patrol.

“It’ll be fine,” Peter says, looking more focused than he has since before The Accident. (Tony hates calling it The Accident for one reason: it wasn’t an accident. Tony’s already found the fucker and he’s locked him away for the rest of his life.)

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to tell you? Not vice versa?” Tony replies, rubbing his thumb over Peter’s knuckles.

The kid grins in response. “Maybe but when have we ever followed the norms, right?”

Tony stares at Peter for a long few seconds, pretending to be exasperated. (In reality, he’s mapping the planes of Peter’s face in his head, making a little note of the thin white scar by Peter’s temple. The little freckles along Peter’s cheekbone that he’s never been close enough to see. The little bits of acne Peter always complained about because his healing never worked on healing his acne; a reminder of the kid Peter is. Too young to be hospitalized for a bullet wound to the skull.)

“Am I Spider-Man?” Peter asks, out of the blue and oblivious to Tony’s gaze. “I kind of thought I was, but now I’m not so sure.”

“You are.”

Peter doesn’t seem surprised by the answer. “It wasn’t a car crash, was it?”

Tony doesn’t answer, but Peter seems to understand.

Before either of them can say anything, Morgan is running full speed into the room and diving onto Peter’s hospital bed with a loud shriek.

“Morgan, inside voice. Petey’s tired and his head hurts,” Pepper chastises gently as she walks in after their daughter. It’s a weird way to put Peter’s real symptoms.

“Petey!” Morgan shouts, hands grabbing onto the front of Peter’s nerdy science t-shirt Tony brought him. She starts rambling about what happened with their imaginary game since Peter was last home. Peter looks lost and confused, but nods along and asks questions as appropriate times, anyways. Forever the people pleaser he is.

“How are you doing, honey?” Pepper asks, carefully tipping Peter’s head up and tutting when she sees the little scar. “Everything okay?”

“Yep, feeling much, much better,” Peter says. It’s the truth but it’s not really the whole truth. “I’m still trying to remember a lot of things, but Tony’s been a lot of help.”

“It’s still weird to hear you calling him Tony,” Pepper says, letting out a little laugh.

The room falls silent as suddenly Peter’s eyes widen and he reflexively pushes Morgan off his lap, glazed eyes unseeing.

To Morgan and Pepper, this is scary, Tony can understand that, but it’s normal now. He’s gotten used to it. It just means Peter’s been triggered by something to remember.

“Petey just needed to check out for a minute,” Tony says, gently shifting Morgan up into Pepper’s arms. He moves diligently to push Peter back onto the bed, lying him down and tucking the blankets around him. It hasn’t been easy, but Peter’s getting better.

“Is he okay?” Morgan asks quietly. Her eyes are wide and filling with tears as she stares down at her brother.

“Yeah, sweetie. He’s fine. Just taking a little nap. He’ll be back with us before you know it.”

And he is. Peter checks in again after only a few minutes, eyes wide and blinking quickly to focus himself again. He looks vaguely confused as Morgan tucks herself into his side, but he slips his hand into Tony’s, a tired smile on his face.

“You ’kay, Mister Stark?”

Tony smiles. “Yeah, Bambi, I’m right here.”

They still have a long way to go, but Peter was lucky. Without his enhanced healing, Tony doesn’t even want to think about what could’ve happened. But Peter’s okay and Tony will help him along, every step of the way. Family.

"Love you," Peter slurs. already drifting off.

"Love you too."

[benhardyisdaddy]

What A Time - Part 3

MASTERLIST

(HELLO AGAIN so once again this gif isn’t ben!roger BUT its what i expect him to look like @ the end of the chap and you’ll know what i mean ooOooO im so bad @ finding gifs, ugh help ya girl out lmao ANYWAYS i hope u enjoy it oK BYEEE)

Word Count: 1,681

“I wasn’t paying attention! I didn’t realize it turned red!”

Pain. That’s all you felt. Searing, agonizing pain that ripped through your whole body and you couldn’t even scream. You couldn’t move at all actually. You just wanted to open your eyes, but you can’t. Were you still upside down in the car? You felt your body lifted onto a stretcher. That answered your question. All of a sudden darkness. You must’ve passed out. You come to again and hear voices all around you. The ambulance siren was blaring as you fluttered your eyes.

“NKDA.” someone yells out.

“I need O2!”

“On it!”

You suddenly feel like you can’t catch your breath. Your chest aches and you feel your body start to spazz. You gasp for air and suddenly, darkness.

“Code 99!” someone screams.

“Alright, I need the defib, stat!”

You’re not sure how long you were out for. It felt like years. But you knew you were dying.

“Was it a DUI?” someone yells out.

“No! Just an idiot!”

“Defib is on! 200 volts! Alright, clear!”

They shock your heart and your body jerks up. The EMT’s look at your heart monitor and the once persistent waves were now falling into a straight line. The man looks down at you and frowns before holding the devices back in his hands.

“Again! 300 volts, clear!”

You jerk up once more and they wait to see if there’s any change to the heart monitor. Nothing. You were flat lining. The man lets out a loud frustrated yell and once again looks to you.

“Once more! 500 volts, clear!”

You jerk up more and a sudden spike in the heart monitor makes them all release a breath they were holding. Your heart is beating again. The man looks to you and smiles, watching as your chest begins to rise up and down slowly. You’re breathing. He squats down next to you and whispers in your ear.

“Don’t you die on me.”

_______________________________

BEEP BEEP BEEP

You take in a deep breath and wince in pain. Every inch if your body hurts. You felt like you had been hit by a… Oh. You had been. You attempt to open your eyes, but they fall close again. They were heavy and tired. You slightly move your arm and stop. You open your eyes once more and are able to look in front of you for a split second. You know you’re at the hospital. An oxygen mask is slipped over your face and you can feel your chest and body covered with wires and bandages. Everything that had happened came flooding back to you. The cafe, the phone call and the truck that slammed into you. A wave of nausea hits you at that memory. All you could think of was how terrified you were. How badly you wanted to scream out for someone to help you, but you couldn’t.  

The annoying beep of machines surrounding you was like a screech in your ear. It made this migraine you have a million times worse. You let out a slight groan and open your eyes once more. Something beside you stirred as you close your eyes again.

“Y/n?” asks a worried voice. A worried voice that you know.

You attempt to open your eyes and turn your head, only to hiss at the pain.

“No, no, no. Stay still. Don’t move.”

You open your eyes again and a person is sitting on the side of your bed, looking at you. They’re half smiling and their eyes are swollen and red from crying. You blink a few times, trying to make the blurriness go away. It disappears for a short second as you focus on the face in front of you. A man with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes is staring at you. You look at their face and try to figure out how you know them, he looks so familiar yet not. The man tries to speak to you again, but your eyes flutter close and you’re asleep.

____________________________________

The sound of voices made your eyes partly open. This time it was much easier to hold them open. You blink a few times adjusting them to the bright light over you. You slowly turn your head and watch as a group of people stand in the left corner of your room. You go to speak, but end up coughing, Your throat is so dry. Everyone turns their head and look over to you. A doctor and three nurses rush to you. The doctor looks at you as the nurses check your vitals and machines.

“Y/n?” asks the doctor in a calm voice. “My name is Doctor Timothy. You’re at St. Gloria’s hospital right now. You were in a bad accident yesterday, okay?”

He speaks slow and you mentally thank him for that, seeing as you were hardly able to understand him then anyways. You slowly nod your head. He smiles and scoots even closer.

“Do you know what happened to you?” he asks. You think for a moment before nodding once more.

“She’s stable.” says a nurse. You attempt to look over at her and she sweetly smiles at you. “You are lucky, miss y/l/n. You had some kind of angel watching over you.”

You just stare at her as the other nurse brings in a styrofoam cup with a long straw. She walks over to you and smiles.

“I’m going to take your oxygen mask off, okay sweetie? I have some water for you to drink.”

You watch as the mask is lifted off and she brings the straw to your dry lips. You slowly open your mouth and begin sipping on it.

“Not too fast, honey. Slow sips.”

You finish the drink and sigh in relief. Your mouth had felt like a desert. You relax into the bed and watch as the doctor and nurses all talk among each other. The doctor walks back to you and pulls up a chair.

“Y/n, you’ve fractured three of your ribs, your collar bone and your left arm. You also had ruptured your spleen, so we had to do an emergency surgery on you, but it was textbook perfect. You’re going to have a lot of bruises and swelling, but you’ll be okay. Can you tell me what year it is?” he asks, pulling out a little flashlight from his pocket.

You think hard and feel absolutely foolish not remembering what year it is. You squint your eyes and look back at him, slowly shaking  your head. He smiles and nods.

“Now that’s okay. We’ll come back to that one. Can you tell me your birthday?”

You think for another moment and squeeze your eyes close as tears pour down your face. You can’t even remember your own birthday. You were scared by this. How could you not know your birthday? Your heart rate monitor starts making loud beeping noises as a nurse rushes up to you.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay,” she says calmly. “It’s just a mild concussion. It’ll go away soon, okay?” she says.

You open your eyes and nod. A concussion. Hopefully you’ll be back to yourself in no time. You’re frustrated that you can’t find your voice. You open your mouth to speak, but when you try to, your chest aches. You let out a loud cough and wince in pain.

“Up the morphine for her.” says the doctor, low. “We’re gonna help you get some sleep, okay? That’ll help your body heal itself and it’ll help with the pain.”

You nod and close your eyes as the nurse injects your IV with a clear substance. A slight burning feeling rushes to your head and within a second, you feel like you’re floating. You quickly fall into a deep sleep.

________________________________

“She has a concussion,”

You stir yourself awake and yawn. You open your eyes and blink several times as you look around. You turn your head to watch as your doctor talks to someone outside your door.

“Doctor?” you call out. You pause in shock by your sudden voice. You could finally speak! Well, it was a pitiful voice. More like a harsh whisper. The doctor turns around quickly and smiles. He quickly walks to you and pulls out your chart.

“You found your voice!” he says happy. You smile up to him. “That’s a very good sign. Sleeping all day yesterday must’ve really helped.”

You slept all day!? Your eyes open wide at that thought.

“Do you think you can tell me what year it is again?” he asks. You think again and once more, nothing.

“That’s okay. We’ll keep trying. I’m gonna send in a nurse to give you a bit more pain medicine. Your heart rate is rising just a bit. I’ll be back to check on you within the hour.”

You let out a weak thank you as he walks out of the room. You lean your head back and exhale as you close your eyes. You didn’t realize you could be this tired. You’re lost in your train of thought when suddenly there’s a slight knock at your door. You open your eyes and look over. The same man you saw next to your bed the day you got in here, was standing by your door smiling. You return a smile as he slowly walks in.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi. Do you think you could tell them I don’t want as much this time?” you ask as you clear your throat.

The man pauses and looks confused. He looks to the door then back to you.

“Don’t want as much?” he asks.

“Yeah, not as much pain medicine this time, please. I feel like a zombie.”

He squints his eyes and nods.

“Oh, okay. I can tell your nurse…” he says.

“Oh, aren’t you my nurse?” you ask, confused.

The man half laughs and then gets a serious look on his face. He blinks a few times and takes a step forward.

“Y/n,” he says, worried. “It’s me,

Roger.”

Tag List: @seven-seas-of-hi @ramimalekrp-roleplayerpage @mautand @peter-parkersbb @har-rison-s @rogermeddowstayl0r @bacardihardy

[blackberrywidow]

His Legacy [IV]

Summary: Tony Stark had never wanted to be a father– had never wanted to risk passing on the Stark’s legacy of absentee fathers and childhood trauma. But looking at his son now, swaddled tightly in his arms, he knew that he was always meant to be his father. Peter was the best thing to ever happen to him, and his would be the only legacy that mattered. (AU in which Tony is Peter’s biological father)

Warnings: Language, angst, death mention.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Okay, so a significant time jump here to get things moving. Hope everyone is prepared for some serious angst. 

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

--- 

“Are you excited, Pete?” Tony asked, turning to look at his son, who was strapped into his booster seat and sipping on a juice box.

“No,” he answered sullenly, blowing air back into the box just to smash it down. Tony had to suppress a smile, knowing Mary wouldn’t approve of him encouraging his “bad behavior.”

“Give me the juice box, Peter,” Mary chastised, turning around from where she sat in the front seat to grab the juice box from him. She turned to Tony with an exasperated look. “He’s been like this all morning. He doesn’t want to go.”

“I just want to spend the day with you or Daddy!” Peter responded, crossing his little arms and pouting. “I don’ wanna go to preschool.”

“Come on, kid,” Tony encouraged. “It won’t be so bad. You’ll get to make friends and learn cool stuff. And if you learn enough, maybe you’ll even be able to work with me some day.”

“Really?!” Peter yelled and Mary turned back to give Tony a reproachful look. “That would be so cool.”

“His only four, Tony,” Mary reminded him. “He’s way too young to be putting that kind of pressure on him.”

“I’m not putting pressure on the kid,” Tony defended as Peter chattered on about how cool school would be and how he wanted to be like his dad. Tony’s heart warmed at the thought, knowing he didn’t deserve his son or his hero-worship, but grateful all the same. “I’m just encouraging him to go to school. He’ll forget about it by tomorrow.”

“No I won’t,” Peter cut in, taking a break to correct him before launching back into telling Happy about how he was going to grow up and be cool like his dad. Happy responded in typical Happy fashion, which meant not at all, but Tony knew he had a soft spot for the kid a mile-wide, though he tried not to show it.

A minute later and they were pulling up to the school. Peter had been full of energy and ready to tackle his first day after Tony’s pep talk, at least until Tony helped him out of the car and he face the school for the first time.

His small hand gripped Tony’s tighter, and he reached out for Mary’s as well once she rounded the car. Mary smiled down at him before taking his hand and walking forward, guiding both Tony and Peter to the front door.

“Alright Peter,” Mary said, crouching down and adjusting Peter’s shirt collar the way she always did when she was nervous. “You’re going to have a great day, okay? It’s just for a few hours, and then I’ll be here to pick you up at noon. Then we’ll do something fun to celebrate your first day. How does that sound?”

“Daddy too?” Peter questioned with wide eyes.

Mary glanced up at Tony worriedly before returning her gaze to her son. “I think your dad has a meeting today—”

“But I’ll reschedule,” Tony reassured, crouching down to give Peter a quick high-five and a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it, kid.”

With that, Peter smiled wide and gave his mother one last hug before bounding off into the school.

“Well, that didn’t take much,” Tony commented.

Mary rolled her eyes and turned to make her way back to where Happy was waiting with the car, Tony following after her. “He looks up to you, Tony. That’s all it ever takes.”

“I know,” Tony acknowledged with a chuckle. “I’m afraid of the day when I’m not his hero anymore.”

He said it jokingly, unthinkingly revealing a real fear he had. One he didn’t like to consider. How would Peter feel about his father in ten years, when the glamour of having a “cool dad” wore off and he realize he was just a man who had a past full of skeletons and bad memories?

“Then don’t ever stop being his hero,” Mary said easily, climbing into the back seat. Tony doubted that it would be that easy, but it was nice to hope.

“Boss, I can dri—” Happy tried to offer, but Tony was quick to cut him off. He only ever rode as a passenger when Peter was in the car, which both Mary and Happy knew.

“Sorry, Hap, but you get shot gun.”

Happy grumbled to himself, but went to the passenger side as Tony slid into the driver’s seat. “So, you heading to work Mary?” he asked, pulling out of the line of cars.

“Oh no,” Mary said, her eyes snapping up to Tony’s in the rearview mirror. “You can drop me back off at home. I took the day off for this. Besides, I still have to sort through some of my mom’s things with Ben. He said he’d come over later to help.”

Tony nodded, turning right to head back towards the Parkers’ residence, and he chuckled. “It’s been almost three years, Mary. You guys still haven’t finished going all of her suff?”

Mary rolled her eyes, but seemed annoyed as she said. “Ben likes to hold onto things, so it’s like pulling teeth to get him to get rid of anything. She’s been gone for nearly three years and he still wants to cry every time he looks at a teapot that she used when we were kids.”

Tony shrugged, eyes focused on the road as he switched lanes a little too closely, making Happy grip the oh-shit-handle even tighter and close his eyes. “Well, it’s understandable. Sentiment is hard to let go of some times.”

Mary raised a brow, mouth quirking up in a smirk. “I didn’t peg you for the sentimental sort, Tony Stark.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Tony lied, thinking about the boxes full of his mom’s old things from over a decade ago that he had in storage. “But Ben is, so go easy on him, okay?”

“I’ll try my best. But speaking of Ben, he wanted me to make sure that you were really okay with watching Peter for me while I’m gone. He said he and May would be more than happy to.”

“He’s my son too, Mary,” Tony reminded her, rolling his eyes as he pulled up in front of her house. “I can handle it.”

---

“Don’t forget to make sure he has his blankie—he can’t sleep without it—and he needs to take his multivitamin every day.” Mary was straightening Peter’s collar, fretting over him in Tony’s doorway as he watched on in exasperation.

“I know, Mary. It’s not like he’s never stayed the night with me.” Tony rolled his eyes, trying to hide the fact that he was actually offended by her coddling.

Mary straightened, looking at Tony with softer eyes. “I know, Tony. It’s just that this will be the longest I’ll go without seeing him, and I… I mean, it’s a whole week Tony. I know you’ll be okay, I just worry. I’m a mom,” she said with a forced laughed, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s what I do.”

“I get it,” Tony said, because he did. It was part of you that changed when you had kids—the constant worry and need to be close to them. To make sure they were all right. It was something he was well aware of after four years. “But he’ll be fine. It’s just a week. I’ll keep him safe and happy until you get back. Isn’t that right Pete?” Tony reassured her, swooping down to pick up his giggling son.

“Yeah, Dad. We’re gonna have lots of fun!” Peter chortled as Tony tickled his sides.

Mary smiled, stepping back and looking resigned. “I know, sweetie. Well, I’m off then. Wish me luck!”

“Good luck!” Peter cheered, giving his mom a big wave and wide smile.

“Knock ‘em dead, Mary,” Tony encouraged.

Mary rolled her eyes. “I’ll do my best. You know how they can be though—change is bad. But hopefully they’ll see the merit in what we’re doing.”

Tony nodded, though he didn’t really understand all of Mary’s issue. In Tony’s line of work, the more change the better. But weapons development was a far different occupation than Mary’s… which Tony wasn’t exactly sure on anyway. It was understood that their work lives weren’t something they talked about, considering Mary’s aversion to Tony’s “Merchant of Death” lifestyle.

“Well, I’m sure everything will go fine. And I’ll have Petey here waiting for you when it does.”

Mary forced a tight-lipped smile and nodded. She leaned forward to give her son one last kiss on the cheek before heading back out to the car that was waiting to take her to the airport.

---

It was seven hours later, and Peter had just gone to bed for the night and Tony was on his way to his lab to do some late-night tinkering when he got the call.

“Rhodey.” Tony smiled as he picked up the call, pushing open the door to his lab. “It’s almost 9. Way past your bedtime. What—?”

“You need to turn on your TV, Tony. Channel 9.” Rhodey’s voice was heavy and stern, and it immediately put Tony on edge. Enough so that he immediately did as he said, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV that was set up in the corner of the lab.

The first thing he saw was an aerial shot of a smoldering plane.

“What is this?” Tony rasped. “Rhodey, what the fuck is this?”

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Rhodey sighed as the words scrolled across the bottom: U.S. plane crashes in Argentina. Casualties unknown.

“No, no, no. That’s not her plane, is it? Mary wasn’t on that plane, Rhodey. Please just tell me—”

“I just saw the report, Tony. They haven’t made it public knowledge yet since the families haven’t been informed, but… there were no survivors. I’m so sorry, Tony. I… I’m just so sorry.”

Tony crashed into a chair, not even noticing as it rolled back several feet from the force. This couldn’t be happening. Not to him. Not to his son.

“I… I’ll have to tell Ben and May. God, I have to tell Peter. How am I supposed to do that, Rhodes? How can I tell my son that his mother is dead? How can I—” Tony cut himself off with a gasping sob and buried his head in his hands. Mary was Peter’s momand now she was gone. Now he was doing this entirely on his own, and he didn’t how to even begin to process his grief and help his son through his and raisehim all on his own.

This couldn’t be happening.

“I’m on my way now, Tony. I’ll be at your place in twenty, and we’ll work through what you need to do together. I’m so sorry man, but you don’t have to go through this on your own. I’ll see you soon.”

Tony nodded, not even considering the fact that Rhodey couldn’t see him through the phone, and hung up.

He sat there for a long time, unmoving and unsure, waiting for Rhodey to arrive. He wasn’t sure what else he could do at the moment.

His parents hadn’t even made it to the airport before they crashed. But Mary had and she was still dead. Now the mother of his son was dead.

He had been twenty-one when his parents had died. Peter was four. How could he tell his son that still watched Dora the Explorer and believed that he’d see his mom next week, his son that had been untouched by death until now, that his mother was gone?

He didn’t know. He didn’t even know how to process it himself, so he was grateful when Rhodey appeared in his lab with soothing words and a plan. He barely listened as Rhodey tried to console him, because ultimately words were meaningless and he was more worried about Peter asleep upstairs, oblivious to the fact that his life had just been torn apart.

But it was good that Rhodey was here. He knew Rhodey would make sure he didn’t do anything stupid like drink himself into a coma and would force him to do the unpleasant task of giving Mary’s last living relative the news.

The anguish in Ben’s voice was nothing like his own, and it almost broke Tony’s heart. Telling someone that their sister was dead was a task he had never thought he would have, and it hurt him to hear someone that he genuinely cared about in so much pain.

He couldn’t even fathom how Peter would take it.

After the phone call ended, Tony flopped back into the chair, eyes distant as he stared at the phone in his hand, relieved and sad that there was no one else to call. There was no one else that would miss Mary Parker.

Tony wondered how many calls would have not be made when he died. Not many.

“Tony,” Rhodey’s voice cut through the static, and he snapped back into the present situation. “Listen, worrying about it isn’t going to do anything for you right now. Just… just get some sleep alright? You’ll just need to tell Peter in the morning. There’s no sense in waking him up now. Just give him some more time to…”

“To live in a world where his mom isn’t dead?” Tony filled in, his voice coming out less snarky than he had intended. His tone was empty, hollow just like the feeling in his chest.

“Yeah,” Rhodey said, grabbing Tony’s shoulder and pulling him out of the chair. “But I mean it Tony. You guys aren’t in this alone. You’ve got me, Pepper, Happy, Obi. We’ll help you through this. Together.”

Tony nodded as he stumbled his way up the stairs to his bed, though he didn’t feel like he was anything but alone.

It was just him and Peter now, and no pretty words or good intentions would change that.

Part Five

[laurens-lil-fics]

hi again it’s me! so i was wondering if you could please do a fanfic on a modern au where firefighter!peter quill gets some burn marks on his chest and his stomach and almost all over his body, and the reader is a beautiful (yet very sexy) nurse, who heals peter up, and falls in love with him?

Heckie yes!

Stay with me. Stay with me.

That was the first thing Peter heard that voice say. He could hear the desperation in her voice, maybe it’s what set her words apart from the others. The raw emotion.

This was an off day for Peter, 10 years as a firefighter you think he’d be prepared for just about anything. And yet here he was, blinking in and out of consciousness in the hospital.

How did he know it was a hospital? For starters those ugly fluorescent lights. He saw them in his nightmares, when he’d dream of his mother. The blinding white walls were another tip. Lastly were the dozens of voices surrounding him, making him feel claustrophobic.

He was caged like an animal, a wounded animal. Then he heard her voice again.

You need to steady your breathing. Breathe with me. In and out… Just like that.

The oxygen mask pressed to his face made him panic, just for a moment, then he focused on her voice once more.

In and out… Shhhh…

The burning on his chest ripped him out of his haze, thrusting him back into the real world. He screamed into the oxygen mask, the ringing in his ears drowning out her voice.

His eyes, wild and panic stricken, bounced around the room, looking at the people and the machines surrounding him. He just barely made out someone shouting about morphine.

Movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. His head whipped in that direction as the stranger took a needle to his IV.

The woman standing over him set the empty needle aside and looked down at him. Her hair was pulled out of her face, there was sweat on her brow and heavy bags under her eyes.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever scene.

Another blast of pain had him surging forward. She pressed her hands to his shoulders and forced him to lay back with all her might.

Peter swore those ugly as fuck fluorescent lights formed a halo around her head, maybe it was the morphine.

You’ll be okay… You’re gonna be okay.

He breathed hard and watched her hover above him for a moment longer until his body began to relax. His eyes slowly fluttered shut and he drifted off into a long, dreamless sleep.

Why do breezes sigh every evening… whispering your name as they do…

And why have I the feeling, stars are on my ceiling… I know why and so do you…

It wasn’t the aches in his body or the natural sunlight streaming into his room that woke him up. It was that voice bringing him back to reality.

Peter slowly opened his eyes, wincing at just how bright the daylight was despite the rain clouds forming outside. He looked around the room, familiarizing himself with the space.

Even though he knew she would be there he still froze in place when he saw the woman from the night he was brought in.

She looked a lot more put together this time. She looked like she had gotten some rest since their last encounter. The woman was completely focused on her clipboard and her singing, she didn’t notice Peter was awake until he attempted to sit up in his bed.

“When you dance with me, I’m in heaven when the music- Oh my gosh. Don’t do that.” She set her clipboard on his bedside table and moved to his side as quick as a flash. She rested her hand on his shoulder and gently laid him back onto the bed.

“You need to take it slow,” she said, pulling the remote for the bed from its velcro strap on the wall and showing it to him. “This button will help you sit up… You have severe burns on your torso. You can’t put strain on yourself.”

Peter pressed onto the small arrow button, wincing as the bed began to adjust to his control. Before he could even thank her she left the room, mumbling something about getting him some food.

He sat there for a couple minutes, blankly staring at the tv mounted on the wall. It was playing one of those cook off shows. He usually hated them, but he assumed the nurse had put it on and decided to sit through the yelling and the over the top panic.

She stepped back into the room, setting a tray of food down on the table above his lap.

“I read on your medical records you have no food allergies, so this should be fine… unless you’re on one of those weird gluten free diets…” she trailed off, moving the tray closer to him.

Peter chuckled softly, wincing when he felt his chest ache from the quick movement. He took a sip of the ice water she brought him and sighed happily.

He looked up at her, not really knowing what to say as she began unboxing his meal. Of course his mouth always ran a mile a minute out of his control.

“I’m not like… Like all Freddy Krueger-y am I…?” he asked, motioning to his face.

I’m a fucking idiot.

The nurse laughed and glanced at him, giving him a onceover as she shook her head. “Never heard that term for severe 3rd degree burns before… but no, you’re not all Freddy Krueger-y. Your chest is a little worse for wear… but with some time and a lot of pain meds and aloe vera it’ll be fine.”

She retrieved her clipboard from the other side of his bed and pointed at one of the many buttons on the bed’s remote. “My name’s (Y/n), if you need anything just press this button. I’ll be right back to check on you once you’re done eating.”

Peter looked her over as she left the room, smiling to himself once she was gone.

Once he was done ripping into his food he could feel himself beginning to doze off. He growled to himself and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, hoping to keep himself awake until (Y/n) got back.

He hadn’t realized he dozed off until the sound of little white sneakers on the linoleum floors stirred him.

(Y/n) stood over him, getting the tray together as quietly as she could. She stopped once she realized her patient had woken up and gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, Mr. Quill.”

“You don’t have to apologize… and you can call me Peter….” he said, feeling butterflies in his stomach when her smile brightened.

“Well, Peter, looks like that turkey has you ready for a nap.” she said, preoccupying herself with the messy tray he had left. “I’m a little surprised, not everyone finishes their food here. Can’t really blame them though, hospital food’s always a little rough.”

“Yeah… I used to visit my mom in the hospital a lot, so I pretty much lived off of it for a while.” he sighed, shifting under the covers only to wince and whine in pain from the burns on his chest.

(Y/n) quickly moved the table aside and stood over him, gently moving his hands away as he clutched his chest.

“Here, let me go ahead and change out these bandages…” she plucked a new roll of bandages from the cabinet on the other side of the room and returned to him. She carefully helped him sit up straight and untied the front of his hospital gown.

Peter heard the heart monitor quickening and screamed at himself to calm the hell down and let the woman do her job. But damn, the way her fingers brushed over his skin as she took off his bandages had him fighting back the burning in his cheeks.

The sight of the burns on his chest were enough to knock his head out of the clouds and send him back to reality. (Y/n) held up a small tube of ointment, warning him that it would probably sting.

After getting a dollop on her fingertips she began gingerly massaging the medicine onto his burns. Sure enough Peter grunted in pain and held his bottom lip between his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut while (Y/n) worked.

“It’s best to let it all out… How about you keep talking, that’ll take your mind off it.” she suggested.

Peter nodded, racking his brain for something, anything to talk about.

“W-Whenever I got sick of the hospital food… m-my grama would being me something…” he said through his gritted teeth, continuing their conversation from earlier. “I think my fav-fuck… my favorite were these grilled cheeses she’d make… she’d always bring em by wrapped in foil… with some tomato soup in tupperware…”

(Y/n) wiped what was left of the ointment onto a tissue and began wrapping Peter’s chest, giving him a small smile. “Sounds like someone’s getting hungry again.”

Peter couldn’t help but chuckle as he breathed through the fading pain. He breathed a sigh of relief once she finished and laid back into the bed.

“Those should heal up in the next week… Hopefully applying that ointment won’t be as painful, it only gets easier from here.” (Y/n) said, her fingers working on retying his hospital gown.

“I’m kind of a baby when it comes to pain, sorry if I’m a little difficult.”

“No, no, it’s alright.” She assured him, gently rubbing his shoulder. “Don’t be afraid to let me know if you’re in any pain. I’m here to take care of you.”

The corners of Peter’s lips quirked up into a small smile and he gave her a slight nod. He sighed happily and laid his head back, relaxing into the bed once she left the room.

The rest of the week was basically the same routine; Peter would wake up, (Y/n) would bring him his meals, change his bandages, then he’d go to sleep. But in between all that Peter tried his best to make small talk with her, get to know her more.

He dropped that sneaky “Oh your boyfriend must be so proud” line the third day in. He almost jumped out of bed when she corrected him, saying she wasn’t dating anyone.

With the burns on his chest already healing he knew he’d be out of the hospital soon. He wasn’t too distraught, he could try to get (Y/n)’s number. Hell, screw “try” he was gonna do it.

His last afternoon in the hospital finally rolled around. His check out was scheduled for 3, it was currently 11.

She’s gonna bring me my lunch, Im gonna ask her for her number, it’ll be fine…

The door to his room opening put the biggest smile on his face, but it dropped once he saw a different nurse walk into the room with his tray of food.

“Good morning, Mr. Quill. How are we feeling today?”

“I… I’m good, is (Y/n) not here today?” Peter asked, looking behind the nurse to see if (Y/n) had trailed in after her.

The nurse frowned and shook her head. “No, I’m afraid she caught the flu from one of her other patients. She won’t be coming in today.”

Peter felt his heart drop out of his chest and into his stomach, along with all hope of ever going on a date with (Y/n).

“But,” she continued, setting the tray down on his table. “She did bring this by a little earlier… I’ll be right back to check on you when you’re done.” She smiled, turning and leaving the room.

Peter eagerly sat up and pulled the table closer, unboxing the food. He smiled wide, realizing what she had sent for him.

A grilled cheese wrapped in foil, and a glass pyrex bowl of tomato soup. A small, folded slip of paper sat between the two and he quickly unfolded it.

I’m willing to make a house call once I get over the flu. Call me.

Sure enough, the seven digits of her phone number along with a small heart sat under her message.

[everythingisgayandnothinghurts]

Hands to Heal

This was written for the random words random characters challenge for Marvel writing challenge!! This was fun to write yet heartbreaking. Hope you like it.

My character was Bruce Banner and my words were intelligent evening and long

As the years went by it was more and more common for Bruce not to have a full eight hours of sleep.  Hell, he was lucky if he got six on a regular basis. The world seemed to be ending more and more often,  which caused more missions to come up. Even though he bowed out of missions whenever he could due to his green tendencies normally causing more harm than good, he was called upon to help with medical problems here and there.  When the call came through from Steve at four in the morning he was only a bit surprised since four of them had left around nine. Steve, Bucky, Tony, and Natasha had dealt with what had seemed to be a small alien nest in the middle of Kansas. He rolled out of bed and went about prepping the med bay since Steve had said it was a case of major blood loss and that it would require some work.  

“They called finally?” Bruce glanced up at the young voice to see Peter lingering in the doorway. He should have known the youngest avenger wouldn't be sleeping until Tony was back safely.

“Should be back-” Bruce was forced to cut himself short when they heard the whir of the jet faintly above them.  “Now it would seem. “

“Who got hurt?” Peter asked anxiously with his mouth in a pinched thin line.  The worry was rolling off of him in waves, his hands twisting together as his brown eyes fixed to the door now instead.  

“They didn't tell me actually, “ Bruce frowned to himself,  annoyed he couldn't even get a blood transfusion ready without a name.  Steve had made the situation sound quite dire, and yet had left out a very important detail.  Peter suddenly stiffened and Bruce only wondered why for a moment before the shrieking reached his ears as well. The voice sounded much younger than anyone that had gone out on the mission last night and full of the kind of agony you would never want to imagine.  

“What the ever loving-” He was cut short again by the door nearly hitting Peter in the face as Tony slammed it open and held it for Steve bringing in a young girl with brown locks spilling over his arm.  Bucky brought up the rear and Bruce felt a slight stab of worry over the whereabouts of his favorite redhead. They may no longer have any romantic interest, but she was still one of his favorite people on the planet easily.  “Who the hell is this?”

“Civilian, “ Steve said shortly as he laid the young girl down on the bed.  Blood soaked the sheet quickly but the source wasn't immediately apparent.

“You're letting civilians into the Avengers compound now?” Bruce directed toward Tony, surprised his arms weren't full of a worried kid yet.  Peter was busy getting towels and O Negative blood ready for him as a matter of fact. He had adopted the method of keeping himself busy to deal with the stress of these kinds of things.

“It's funny you think Cap really gives us choices. “ Tony said dryly, leaning against the far wall with his eyes fixed on their guest. “He had her on the jet before I even had a chance to tell him he was-”

“Can we just save someone?” Steve's voice was much sharper than usual and Bruce nearly flinched at the unexpectedly harsh tone.  He had gotten the blankets off of her as well as the clothes and nearly lost his stomach at the sight. The blood was coming from her gaping abdomen with the organs just about spilling out of her.  Burns covered what skin he could see and they were oozing and appeared to be nearly third degree. Peter appeared at his shoulder and he couldn't contain his gasp at all. Tony moved to pull him to the side and presumably into his arms, but Bruce laid a hand on Peters shoulder first.

“Since you gave me nothing to work off of in the middle of the night I'm going to need his help if I have any hope to save her.  Peter has learned a lot. “ Peter had expressed interest in the medical world as a surprise to them all and Bruce had a feeling he would end up making some brilliant devices for the medical world down the line.  

“Peter isn't even qualified in any way to actually help her, “ Steve still had that harsh tone to his voice that made it nearly unrecognizable. He had been off lately with the increase in missions and the strain was getting to the captain.  

“Let them work Steve, “ Bucky's voice was still soft as he none too gently pulled Steve away from beside the table.

“You have to save her Banner.  I watched her parents die and she can't…  not like this. “ Steve glanced at them all one last time before he was dragged away to change out of the uniform covered in dried blood.  

The shock was keeping this young woman awake and her wide green eyes stared at him in pain and fear.  

“Darling what's your name?” Bruce asked gently as he got the supplies for an IV ready to hopefully get her knocked out before the pain could kick in any more.  She was panting heavily to keep from screaming and tears rolled down her pale cheeks.

“Am I going to die?” She asked with her voice shaking and the words barely intelligible. “Where are my parents? Where am I?” She was shaking like a leaf and Peter was staring at her in horror.

“Just tell me your name, “ Bruce coaxed gently to keep her gaze on him.

“E-Evelyn, “ She said shakily and he slipped the needle into her vein without the girl noticing considering her other injuries.

“Evelyn, you are going to be just fine. “ Bruce could only pray he was actually telling something close to the truth. “I'm going to give you something to help you sleep and when you wake up we will have you feeling so much better, okay?”

“Mommy and Daddy?” Her voice got younger in that moment if that was possible.  She was likely not yet a teenager but in that moment she could have been younger than eight easily.

“It's going to be alright, “ Bruce told her softly once again.  He swallowed thickly and had to put aside her wide eyes and get to work as quickly as he could as she finally went to sleep.

“I can start dressing the burns, “ Peter got into quick and careful action to peel off what charred  flesh he could as Bruce tried to cauterize the wound and wonder how he would even patch this up enough until Helen and her team could get here to do the proper work.  This girl had no real chance… and he would have to watch her die under his hand.

Peter still hadn't gotten used to the smell of burning flesh, but he was doing much better than last time and kept his focus on his task.  Bruce was busy searching for any damage to the organs he could repair so he could pack and wrap the abdomen as quickly as possible. His gloves were quickly soaked in blood and the squish as he worked made his eyes burn. This girl wasn't even Peters age yet and Bruce's heart broke often enough working on him from time to time. At least Peter had Tony to hold him through it, but if this girl ever woke she would be completely alone in the world like so many of them had been before finding one another.  He had to wonder if it would have been kinder to let her go with her family. If she was this damaged then he could assume she was probably one of the only survivors from her city.

No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than the monitor flat lined almost the minute he had gotten her bleeding under control and the wound packed. He was no true professional but he had always hoped he had learned enough to make a difference in situations like this.  

He wasted no time in starting CPR, praying for this young girl not to die under his very hands.  Peter looked lost as his hands hovered over her body and his large brown eyes fixed to the monitor holding her vitals.  He didn't want Peter to watch someone die, but he couldn't even find enough breath to tell the young man to leave. Her body jostled as he tried to get her heart to start working on its own once again. The moments seemed to stretch on forever as he kept praying and hoping in a way he hadn't for ages.  

He was barely aware of gentle hands taking him by the shoulder until he was forced off her small body and could only stare at her pale skin and the wave of her hair as it trained nearly to the floor. Peter was crying across from him and holding her pale and lifeless hand.

“it's over Bruce, “ Tony said to him softly, still gripping his shoulders and he could swear it was the only way he was still standing.  His knees felt weak and he fought weakly to do something, anything, to let this not be the end. They had all lost enough over time and he had always wanted to have hands that healed rather than harm.  He had warred with himself enough over the green other half he had almost no control over and the medical training had been all that had helped him. The thought that he could help someone else even when the same hands could tear a human apart effortlessly if the Hulk chose to do so.  “You did all you could Bruce. Steve was an idiot to bring her back. “

“She was just a girl, “ Bruce whispered as he let himself be guided to a chair and fought the burning behind his eyes. The feeling of worthlessness washed over him like it hadn't in years now.  She had barely been under his care for an hour and she was gone. Tony was now holding Peter close and whispering to him softly as the boy openly cried. He shouldn't have seen any of this and once again he was too useless to stop that from happening as well.  

He felt completely numb by the time Tony returned except for the way his heart ached horribly in his chest.  He kept hearing her young voice screaming, pleading, and terrified. He could only picture the screams of people the Avengers once again failed to save. The destruction and horror witnessed before their lives were taken from them forever.  Having a dark side wasn't a new thing for him, but having it so visible to everyone else was.

Tony's footfalls were soft and even now as he quietly came across the room.  Evelyn's corpse was still in the room with them since Bruce hadn't had the strength to get a body bag out yet.  Helen's team would be here within the hour probably on a useless call and maybe she could do it this time since he just couldn't.

Bruce, please don't do this, “ Tony begged softly as he crouched in front of him.  His brown eyes were darker than Peter's, but just as kind at the moment. “You don't have to feel responsible for this.  Steve had some guilt complex and he never should have out saving her on you. He's frustrated that lately our missions have cost so many lives of innocents.  It doesn't give him any kind of right, but I can at least kind of forgive him this one.”

“I told her it would be alright, and I couldn't even keep her alive through the night. I was so useless and helpless to save her. She was just laying there bleeding faster than I could stop it. “ Bruce's voice was hoarse with unshed tears.

“You are so far from useless or hopeless my friend. “ Tony said quietly.  “Peter and myself both owe our lives to you several times over by now. My life in more ways than medically.  Steve knew she was a lost cause when we got here. He sent you on a fools errand and I'm sorry.”

“Steve wasn't the only one who wanted to see some good for a change, “ Bruce felt tears slip down his cheeks and that was the cue for Tony to sit next to him and pull him close as well.  He must have been tired from staying awake all night for that journey halfway across the country but his hands were firm as he held him close. He clutched on to his best friends arm tightly and tried to remember more good than bad that his hands had done.

[summeryoongki]

85 Questions Game

85 Questions Game ~

i was tagged forever ago by my beautiful wife @sarangtaee i literally havent been on this blog in months sorry 

⇢ Rules: Answer these 85 questions about yourself and tag 20 people

Originally posted by mimibtsghost

⇢ Last:

Drink: diet Candada Dry

📱Call: i just ordered chinese food bih

Text Message: three upside down smiley face emojis by the one and only @sarangtaee

Song you listened to: Get on Your Knees by Nikki Minjaj ft. Ariana Grande

Time you 😢: Yesterday watching a documentary about Jonestown

⇢ Ever:

Dated someone twice: yes unfortunately

😘 someone and regretted it: nope

Been cheated on: yep

Lost someone special: by death? thankfully no. in other ways? yes

Gotten drunk and thrown up: no i took 6 jello shots the other day and felt absolutely nothing. one hit from a bong and im faded though explain that science

⇢ In the last year, have you:

Made new friends: yep! and im so happy for it. they are amazing

Fallen out of 💛: actually ive fallen for someone and it sucks

😂 until you 😢: yes

Found out someone was talking about you: yes but not negatively at least to my knowledge

Met someone who changed you: my new friends have made me happier and i like being alive again. id say that is a change

Found out who your friends are: yeah

😘 someone on your Facebook friends list: no, unfortunately

⇢ General:

How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: all of them. I dont friend people i dont know or like

Do you have any pets: i have 3 kitties

Do you want to change your name: i do, id change it to luna

What did you do for your last 🎂: i literally dont remember

What time did you wake up today: 6 am

What were you doing at midnight last night: sleeping

What is something you can’t wait for: to meet my soulmate. hopefully i can muster up the courage to tell him i like him

What are you listening to right now: Phil DeFranco tell me the news rundown

Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Yeah i used to work with a guy names tom, he was a hoot and definetly eccentric

Something that gets on your nerves: people that get in other peoples way, humans in general

Most visited website: snapchat and instagram

Hair color: natural medium brown with teal tips

Long or short hair: its medium short atm

What do you like about yourself: my creativity and adventurousness and my empathy

Want any piercings: i have many and id like a couple more

Blood type: A+

Nicknames: Micky, Kenzie, Kizie

Relationship status: single and pining after a boy who only sees me as a friend

Zodiac sign: Cancer Sun, Rising,/Leo Moon

Pronouns: i hate this question

Favorite 📺 show: if i had to choose 1 it would be the office

Tattoos: 2

Right or left handed: right but im kind ambidextrous 

Ever had surgery: ive had a few teeth taken out

Piercings: many

Sports: ew

Dream Vacation: south korea, japan, greece, hawaii

Trainers: what are you asking me? i had a personal trainer almost kill me, and i have sneakers?

Eating: fried rice

Drinking: water

I’m about to watch: jessie smiles

Waiting for: Myself to gain some courage to tell my co worker that i like him

Want: my coworker

Get married for: raw, real, supportive love

Career: id like to be a zoologist or an interior designer

Hugs or kisses: neither if they arent from my SO, both if they are

👄 or eyes: eyes, i love eyes. i draw them on everything and i love looking into the eyes of someone i love

Shorter or taller: taller. i like being the little 

Older or younger: dont care as long as i like them and they are responsible

Nice arms or stomach: i dont have either, on a guy? arms, *shvers* the guy i like has nice arms with some good subtle veins happenin

Hookup or relationship: relationship, i cant do hookups i got an old civil war era piece of equipment and thats all she wrote

Troublemaker or hesitant: im hesitant and troublemaker are annoying like the paul brothers

⇢ Have you ever:

😘 a stranger: no

Drank hard liquor: vodka? yes

Lost glasses: no

Turned someone down: yeah a couple times

Sex on first date: never

Broken someone’s ️❤️: perhaps?

Had your 💔: too many times, thats why i cant tell the guy i like him. im norma jean

Been arrested: no

😢 when someone died: yes ugh so many times, mostly book movie chatcters but also all those children at Jonestown

Fallen for a friend: yes story of my life

⇢ Do you believe in:

Yourself: no, thanks childhood!

Miracles: yep

💛 at first sight: yes bc i have experienced a version of this. the first time i saw my bestfriend walk through my 7th grade ancient civilizations class, i knew i had known her in a previous life, with absolutely no doubt

😘 on the first date: actually i dont know

Angels: maybe. i dont think they would have fluffy wings and halos though

⇢ Other:

Best friend’s name: im not sure thats for anybody else to know since one of them is @sarangtaee

Eye color: olive green

Favorite Movie: i have so many, harry potter, forest gump, matilda, Guardians of the Galaxy, X-Men and many more

Favorite actor: Evan Peters, Aubrey Plaza

Favorite Food: Japchae, Alfredo pasta, Fried Rice, Pizza, Deviled Eggs, Watermelon, Peaches, Cherries

Extrovert or Introvert: Introvert all the ways

Favorite flower: Daisies, lotus, Sunflowers, dahlias, foxgloves, moonflowers

Favorite Hello 🐈 characters: i dont know what this is asking me sorry

And i will not tag anyone since i barely use this account and i have almost no followers, why did i do this? well i guess i just like talking about myself 

[slommyyyy]

marvel asks!!

this is rlly long folks prepare your asses

steve: are you small or tall?

im rlly fucking short!!! bitch!!! im like five two!! hopefully i get a growth spurt soon bc bitch i dont wanna climb shit

bucky: what’s your favorite memory?

i have a bunch actually!! im gonna limit it to three bc aa theres too many,, 

SO!!! i had met viv about two months prior, and it was the summer and i was outside!! stargazing bc!! damn b its fun!! and we were texting bc ahe just woke up, and then!!!! a neighborhood cat came, and we talked abt the cat and stars and it was so nice??

anytime from when i was little at night!! stars, catching fireflies, going to the local water park, being at the beach w my mom and eating pizza, grilling hamburgers outside w my brother... mmm man i cant tell you HOW happy summer makes me?? we used to sit outside and catch fireflies and swim in an old shitty pool, and have to go inside ONLY if the amount of airplanes that flew over us was had a factor of 3, bc that number was my fav hgckygvk

fjbueod this sounds stupid bUT!! i rlly love skyping my friends?? like watching vine comps w steph and izzy, or that one time most of us all got in one MASSIVE call and micah flipped me off in front of my mom,, but anyway i had a call w my friends, and they all went out/ to sleep, and by myself, i realized?? these people make me feel so happy?? like i had been really sad for a long time and everyone just made me... good??? i watched the sun rise that morning, and i felt rlly complete man, like a new chapter of my life was starting

sam: what makes you happy?

my friends, music, and art a lot!!! also dogs in general,,

peggy: what’s your favorite era?

dude have you seen the music i listen to?? 80s/90s are my shit

thor: what’s your favorite weather?

if im outside?? warm to the point where youre sticky with sweat, but its pleasant, and dont feel like youre dying. if im inside?? summer rain!! i like the calming patter of rain and the thunder kinda just?? being there man!! watch a movie and listen to music to that jazz!!! play a ukulele or read a book!!! that weather makes me so happy

valkyrie: what’s your favorite drink?

cherry cola!! BUT!! i like the kind from those cool machines at movie theaters!! since like the canned stuff??? tastes brown w a liiiiittle bit of magenta. the bottled stuff??? more magenta but still mostly brown. the theater stuf??? hoLY SHIT!!! ITS LIKE BRIGHT PINK!!! MUTED W SOME BROWNS AND TASTES SO GOOD!!

heimdall: where do you see yourself in 5 years?

dude i cant plan the future tbh?? like maybe at college?? maybe taking time for my mental health?? idk!! also lmAO w my luck id be dead,, have you SEEN how much i get injured??? i fell off one (1) stair and broke my ankle for three weeks fsuvbeieu

korg: are you optimistic or pessimistic?

im actually realistic tbh?? i have a bad habit of looking at things from a point where its realistic to the point where its apathetic and,,, i gotta fix that man,, (also im not including my anxiety inthat bc iF I DID LMAO IDK W H A T ID BE)

peter: are you good at keeping secrets?

yeah!! unless its smth serious, then i try to get the person help from someone im POSITIVE is trustworthy, unless im positive its under control :0

ned: who is your best friend?

no!!!! no picking!!! i love all of my friends in dif ways!!! my friend cc?? my meme-y jam bud who complains abt our english teacher!! em?? fuCKIN RAD!!!! izzy?? we talk abt girls and how we love our moms!! lui?? a badass bitch!!!! kyra and jo??? my b99 buds!!! my brother was my only friend for literal years!!! id say more but this would get way too long i love all of my friends!!

michelle: do you like to go to parties?

lmaO NO IVE GOT RLLY BAD SOCIAL/GENERAL ANXIETY,, that and im never invited to any uyebve

liz: who was your high school crush?

this rlly cute girl in a few of my classes!! im too scared to talk to her thOUGH HBCEUIBS

aunt may: who or what are you most protective over?

my brother!!! holy fuck man i nearly decked some kids when i was little,,, this sounds edgy but my brother had some issues w social settings, so he was bullied, so i helped stand up for him!! we took boxing lessons for two years bitch!! got pizza on thursdays after!!.

t'challa: what is the most important thing your parents taught you?

my mom taught me to always do what i love, and i love her man,, wonderful woman,,,

shuri: are you a good driver?

bro i cant even drive and have a fear of cars

nakia: what causes are you passionate about?

a lot actually!!! rn its mostly LGBTQ+ rights, immigration, and gun control!!! i rlly enjoy arguing, but only the kind where both sides listen to each other, yknow?? bc people yelling hurts my head efvhbied

okoye: do you speak more than one language?

no,, i only speak english and have the german abilities of a two year old

m'baku: are you vegetarian?

no, sorry!! i dont eat much meat tho so i could probably go vegetarian p easily lmAO

killmonger: sunrises or sunsets?

ooo!!! i love both!! i love seeing sunrises in the morning, but i think i gotta say sunsets!! the colors are rlly pretty

peter quill: what’s your favorite song from your childhood?

my brother and i used to SCREECH hooked on a feeling its a fuckin bop

gamora: do you like to dance?

its fun but i physically??? cant?? my body doesnt know how to move so i awkwardly sway to shitty 80s music uekfbs

nebula: do you get along with your siblings?

yeah!!! my brothers one of my closest friends, and even though hes older than me,, im still shook by how old hes gotten,,,, bitches stay off the roads hes got no coordination

groot: are you quiet or talkative?

it depends on who im with!!! or how my brain is working that day!! with large groups im rlly quiet but in front of a crowd or with one to four-ish friends i know well??? ill talk your ear off,,, also sometimes my brain says!! socializing is hard so oh well

rocket: have you changed a lot since you were younger?

hdfubvyuedsvbdsiUHDBSCUI HELL YEAH!!!! dude ive developed my own opinions and gotten a lot more bitchy.... but also ive stayed the same in a few ways!! i still love art and music, and have obsessions really deeply

asgard: if you could move anywhere, where would you pick?

anywhere w my friends!!! 

brooklyn: where do you feel most at home?

outside late at night chatting w friends tbh?? it just feels right

wakanda: what is your hometown known for?

peaches!!

thank u @prcngx for tagging me!!! ily!! but you tagged a bunch of mutuals so i dont rlly have anyone to tag!!!! you monster!! ily!!

[occasionalfics]

Finding You, v

part iv

Summary: With approval from (most of) the team, you prepare to leave Earth behind and start a new life.

A/N: Sorry these are taking so long to get out! It’s the holiday rush, to be honest. Hopefully the next one will be out before next Friday (just so that it’s not another week without a chapter) XD

Tags: @fandommemporiumm

Words: 2,229

~~~

You didn't sleep much that night. You tossed and turned and wondered why you didn't hear any rain until you remembered you weren't in Missouri anymore. New York was quiet from your elevated level, and it unsettled you more than the thought of launching out of Earth’s atmosphere in the morning.

After a while of restless turning, you sighed and got out of bed. You slipped on a pair of ratty sneakers and left your room, hoping the staircase at the end of the hall would lead to the roof of the building.

You went in circles up floor after floor, realizing that you hadn’t estimated how much more of the tower there was. You also thought that the tower ended in a point - but there had to be a roof, right? Some place to sit on a flat surface and see the sky above the city?

The landing strip. You didn’t actually know what it was called, but you’d landed there in Tony Stark’s private jet two days before. Despite its name, you turned around and headed straight for it. You were out of breath as you moved through the dark hall with the bedrooms, and still struggling to catch up with yourself as you went into that front room with the bar. From there you paused, partially to catch your breath and partially because there were two other people out there already.

You moved to the entryway, leaning against the door to try to see who was out there.

“It’s still hard to think he’s gone, y’know?” you heard Peter ask. As your eyes adjusted, you noticed that he was lying against the hard surface of the walkway, arms bent behind his head.

“Yeah,” you heard the other person say. It could’ve been Nebula, but it could’ve been Kraglin, too. They didn’t have enough hair to be Gamora, and one word wasn’t much to go on.

“I know he wasn’t really my dad, but after everything with Ego, he sure felt like my dad.”

“You told me before, Pete.”

It was Kraglin. He must’ve had his legs pulled up to his chest. You could see his elbows bent and the bottoms of his boots as more and more detail came into view. His head was pointed up to the sky.

“You never told me what he was like with you,” Peter said.

Kraglin sighed. “He was my Captain,” he said. “I betrayed’im.”

Peter looked at Kraglin, sitting up just a bit. “We got a thing here,” he said. “Mob mentality. If you’re around one kind of person enough, you start to lose yourself. You were around that crew a lot longer than me. You were doing what they thought was good for them.”

Kraglin shook his head. “Don’t gotta explain it to me, Pete. I know what I did.”

There was a pause, but then Peter asked, “Is that what you dream about?”

Kraglin nodded. “Nightmares. All the time. It’s all my fault.”

Peter sat up fully and reached for Kraglin’s shoulder, but the skinnier man pulled away immediately.

“Don’t,” he whispered. You almost missed it. “I should’a stood by him. I should’a done somethin’ sooner’n I did. I couldn’ even keep him from Ego - Stars.” His head fell against his knees. You swore you saw his shoulders lurch.

Peter stared for a minute, then he looked up at the stars. “You’d be up in limbo if you did that,” he said. “All’a those men...Tullk, Darko.”

“They were my friends,” Kraglin said, just barely loud enough for you to hear. His shoulders definitely shook then, as did his whole body. “It ain’t fair!”

“It’s not,” Peter said. “But he’s up there. He’s with my mom, I know it.”

Kraglin didn’t say anything. He kept his head down, but turned it to look at Peter.

“He’s apologized for all the times he told me he was gonna eat me,” he said. “She forgave him because she believes in second chances. I think she knows what my dad was like, Kraglin. She knows what he did, and she’s thanked him for it.”

“I don’ know how I’m supposed’ta feel ‘bout that, Pete. I didn’ know your mamma.”

There was such a long silence between them that you almost stepped out into the night. You almost started a different conversation. There was so much nostalgia and pain in their voices and you barely knew who they were talking about. It had to be the Captain of that crew they were both a part of, the one Kraglin obviously avoided talking about the day before. You wanted them to say more, so you might get a name or some semblance of character.

But there was nothing.

After waiting a few minutes for someone to say something, you sighed and went out into the night. There was just enough room between them for you to sit, so you placed yourself there and crossed your legs out in front of you, resting most of your weight on your palms behind you.

You looked up at the sky and said, “It’s so clear out here.” The silence continued, so you went on. “I tried keepin’ track of constellations when I was a teenager, but there are too many stars in Missouri at night.”

“Some cultures out there think every star was a person,” Peter said.

You nodded. “Matter cannot be created or destroyed.”

More silence. You thought about asking them about the Captain, but you knew that despite Peter being your step-brother, you really didn’t know him or Kraglin that well. Maybe they’d tell you one day, you figured. You’d be patient.

You laid out, mimicking Peter’s position; hands under your head, legs still crossed in front of you. You just stared up at the sky and smiled, knowing you’d be out there in the cosmos soon. Maybe it was business as usual for someone like Kraglin and even Peter, but it was a whole new world, a whole new life for you to explore.

Speaking of Kraglin, you turned your face to him and asked, “You know, I don’t think I ever asked you where you’re from.”

He eyed you without turning his head all the way around. You watched as he leaned back on his arms. “Xandar,” he said. “‘S a lot like Terra, just with updated technology mostly. This Stark guy’s closer to what we got, though.”

“Do most people from Xandar look like you?” you asked, unsure of whether or not it was an okay question to ask. You knew some people here didn’t like things like that, so you bit your lip in anticipation of the answer.

He shrugged. “Some. We got lotsa different people that live in big cities, especially. Like here.” He pointed out to the city generally.

You nodded. “How long were you there?” you asked.

He looked at the sky again, but you caught the immediate sadness in his eyes. You didn’t know what he was sad about, but you didn’t like seeing it in those bluest blue eyes. “I ran away when I was ‘bout fifteen. Don’ really remember why. Just...wanted somethin’ more, I guess.”

You leaned up without sitting fully, but he didn’t look away from the sky. “Did you find it?” you asked.

He didn’t answer for a bit. You relaxed, thinking he hadn’t heard you. Peter didn’t say anything either, but he did look at Kraglin in anticipation. You’d gone back to stargazing, though most of the sky was clear, when he finally sighed.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I think I did.”

You must’ve fallen asleep outside. You don’t remember coming back inside or finding your room. You don’t remember shoving your shoes into a bag or plugging in your phone to charge. You woke up to its alarm, though, wondering how you got where you were. You turned the alarm off, wiped your eyes, and groaned. You couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours sleep, and now you were feeling it.

You threw your feet over the edge of the bed and put your hair in a messy bun, taking a minute to force yourself awake before standing up. You pulled your charger out of the wall, wrapped it around your hand, and got up to stow it away. You didn’t even know if you’d need it in space, or whether or not your phone would even work out there, but you might as well bring it in case, you decided. Maybe one of the Guardians could help you figure out how to make Terran devices work out there.

Before you had time to get changed and wash up, someone knocked on the door. In the midst of a yawn you called, “Come in,” as you picked up one your bags and placed it on the bed.

Kraglin stuck his head into the room, fully dressed in a red jumpsuit with dark utility gloves to match his boots. “We’re almost ready to go. You need a minute?” he asked.

You sighed. “If you don’t mind,” you said.

He shook his head, a small smile on his face suddenly. “Meet us in the front room when you’re ready,” he said.

You nodded, and then he was gone. As quickly as you could manage, you pulled a bra out of one of your bags, slid it on under your shirt as best you could, changed out of the pajama pants and into a pair of jeans, and folded the clothes you no longer needed before packing those as well. You knew you were underdressed for a launch into space, but you didn’t have anything like what Sally Ride or Mae Jemison would’ve worn. You’d never worked for NASA, after all.

You sighed and threw your bags over each shoulder, then slipped your feet into your sneakers before heading out to the front room with the bar. Everyone was standing around, some with impatient looks on their faces. Peter, however, came over and took one of your bags immediately.

“You’re late,” you heard Rocket call.

“Shut up,” Peter said, heading out to the ship, which was now at the end of the landing strip. You saw that the landing had expanded to support the weight of the ship, and that it wasn’t quite as big as you’d expected. Still, it would fit everyone with some room to spare, you thought.

“What is this building made out of?” you asked before you could stop yourself. You headed outside to hand off the other bag to Peter, not noticing that Kraglin had trailed out after you.

“Stark tried to explain it to us a week ago,” he said. “Honestly, it sounds a lot like stuff on other planets, but that guy...he’s got an awfully high opinion’a what he makes.”

You chuckled. “Maybe not everything he makes,” you said, thinking of the whole Sokovia issue. That whole thing had started with a sentient Robot Stark and Dr. Banner had made, you remembered. Tony Stark didn’t seen very pleased about that one.

As everyone boarded the ship, you realized that you were the only one not wearing one of those red jumpsuits. Drax refused to wear the top part, but his pants at least matched the rest of the group. You tried not to think too much about it - maybe they just didn’t have enough for you because they hadn’t expected you to come along. Still, you looked so out of place that you almost questioned what you were doing.

Then you watched Peter take one of the front seats on the ship. He looked over his shoulder at the group and nodded. No one else said anything about your clothes or why you were there. Mantis helped you buckle in, took the seat next to you, and smiled as the ship’s engine came to life.

Your whole body tensed as the ship shook, lifted, and zoomed into the air. You shut your eyes and took deep, infrequent breaths. The pressure in the cabin heightened, flattening you against your seat. You gripped the arms of the chair as tight as you could as the whole ship shook and lifted. You’d spent so much time thinking about being in space that you hadn’t thought about getting out there - and now you were in pain from the tension in your body and scared out of your mind.

But there was no backing out then. You heard one of the Guardians yelp out of joy, but you refused to open your eyes to see who. Your stomach lurched, your head spun, and then...then the ship was still, and your hair started to lift around you. You felt light for a moment, as if you’d float if you weren’t wearing a seatbelt. Gravity disappeared - and then it returned. You fell back against your chair, your hair fell against your shoulders again, and the tension in your fingers returned.

You forced your eyes open and looked out the cockpit window. The moon was closer than you’d ever seen it. So was Venus.

You were in Space.

You laughed because you couldn’t stop yourself. It started as little chuckles but quickly built into full-blown hysterics. Your safety belt was the only thing keeping you in your seat as your eyes watered and your throat burned through your laughter.

You could hardly believe it, but you were in Space.

[inawickedlittletown]

Walking The Wire (131/156)

Summary: Tony Stark always knew about Peter Parker. He didn’t know that Peter was going to get superpowers and become Spider-Man, but he always knew about Peter because Peter was his son.

This will span from pre-Iron Man up through the rest of the MCU (eventually including Infinity War) and will be for the most part canon compliant except where I’ve taken some liberties and interpreted canon a certain way.

Pairings: Pepper/Tony, Tony/Steve (endgame), Tony/Mary (past)

A/N: If you want me to tag you when I post new chapters let me know. This fic is also on AO3

I used Collider’s MCU timeline to stay canon and the title of this fic is an Imagine Dragons song that is just so fitting for Peter and Tony

@findmeinthestarss

Masterpost

Chapter One Hundred Thirty

“That’s. Tony, that’s kind of--” Bruce trailed off.

“Crazy,” Tony said. “Yeah, well, I made it out of space in one piece and back here when the odds were that that just wasn’t going to happen. And Strange’s actions don’t make sense. He knew what winning might entail. Bastard didn’t bother to share with the class, but what can we expect for a magician.”

“You know, he actually is a doctor,” Bruce said.

“So am I, but I don’t brag about it,” Tony said.

Bruce laughed at that. “You don’t.”

“Thing is, I have to believe that. I have to believe that this all happened for a reason. It was my kid, Bruce. My kid. And so many others too.”

Bruce nodded. He was working on Tony, moving him over to The Cradle to knit his wound back together. It felt weird but it happened quick, before Steve got back even. So that when Steve did return, Tony was back in the cot. He still felt sore and Bruce wrapped up his chest before letting him put a clean shirt on.

“I brought soup and crackers. Some toast too if you’re up to it,” Steve said.

“And here I thought you’d get me a more welcoming meal,” Tony said.

“From what Nebula told me you haven’t eaten in days. You’re not up to eating a cheeseburger right now, Tony.”

Tony was really too hungry to argue and the chicken soup did smell good. There was steam coming off of it and Tony could tell that it had been freshly made.

“Thank you,” Tony muttered.

“And after this you need sleep, Tony. I won’t keep you here in the medical wing. You’re surprisingly not that badly off but you need to rest. Everything else can wait right now. We’ve got this, Tony, because we need you and we need you at a 100%.”

He ate slowly, trying to pace himself a little in part because the soup was hot but also because he wanted to drag the moment out. Since being back it had been about seeing everyone and being happy to be home and alive. It had been about letting Bruce check him over and take care of the stab wound. It was about starting to voice the things he’d been thinking about and hoping to be true and it was finally getting a moment to truly let everything sink in. Peter was gone. His son was gone. Tony didn’t know how he was supposed to sleep when that was fact and when Tony truly had no idea how they were to proceed.

“Nebula. Is she alright?” Tony asked.

“Fine. She’s with Rocket. She said she felt fine.”

“Right. They know each other. That’s good she’s got him.

Steve nodded. “You don’t have to worry about her.”

He finished eating and Steve placed his empty plates on a table. He moved with caution and looked at Tony like he might disappear in front of him. Tony couldn’t blame him, really, because a part of him felt exactly the same.

“Do you want to sleep here or--”

“Proper bed might do me good,” Tony said. “Any chance I can get rid of this thing.” He motioned at the IV line and the plastic bag it was attached to.

“No chance. You need those fluids, Tony. Just tonight.”

He was too tired to argue. Bruce helped them get to Steve’s room. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept at the compound, but Steve’s room was closest and someone had cleaned it up a little.

Bruce gave him some painkillers and Tony took them without protest and then Steve helped him get under the covers.

“Get some rest, Tony. I’m glad you’re home,” Bruce said before he left.

Steve lingered by the bed, fixing Tony’s pillows and his sheets.

“Are you -- do you have something to do or--”

“I have nothing else to do but to be here with you,” Steve said before Tony could finish. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Steve sat down next to him and Tony reached for his hand. It felt grounding to hold it even as all the adrenaline from the trip back home and seeing everyone was fading. Everything that had been keeping him together disappearing because he was home in a bed and Steve was just within reach. He didn’t need to be strong and hold himself together.

“Bruce did mean you should get some sleep,” Steve said. “You’re kind of -- you’re not doing that.”

“I don’t know...I keep seeing--”

His eyes. Peter’s scared tear filled eyes that had realized what was happening and that felt it before it did. Peter who didn’t want to go and who fell into his arms but became dust.

Steve’s arms slid around him and Tony felt grounded. He felt like there was something else to draw focus to. He was tired. Too tired and sore and hurt and Steve’s fingers were in his hair.

“Peter’s--”

“Oh, Tony,” Steve said.

His eyes felt wet and they stung. He curled himself into Steve and Steve held him back just as tightly.

“I wish it had been me,” Tony whispered. “I wish -- it should have been me. Not him. Never him.”

Steve didn’t respond. He held Tony tighter and Tony knew that Steve understood. It wasn’t a death wish. It was a wish that Peter hadn’t had to go -- the admittance that Tony would have given anything in order to take Peter’s fate away.

“It’s not fair,” Steve whispered eventually.

“It’s not.” He wasn’t crying anymore, but the emotions were still there. It hurt. It hurt more than anything. He pressed a kiss to Steve’s shoulder. “You’re allowed to feel this too. You were his dad too, Steve.”

It was true. Probably had been true before Steve even properly met Peter because Steve had always been interested and engaged in Peter long before Tony had gotten a chance to meet him. And then after -- after they had fallen into a family unit without even trying.

“I--”

“You were,” Tony insisted. “Her was ours. Our Peter.”

Steve pulled him even closer and Tony could hear Steve’s heartbeat -- steady and not too much faster than what was supposed to be normal. Soothing, though, to listen to. Steve’s fingers threaded through his hair gently and it was slowly that Tony let his fatigue take over. He felt a press of a kiss on his forehead and faintly heard:

“Thank you. I love you.”

Tony let himself smile even if it wasn’t enough and it didn’t take away all the pain. “We’ll get him back.”

Bruce considered everything that Tony had said and implied and it was hard to just accept. Tony thought that somehow they were going to win. But not just that, he seemed to think that everyone that turned to dust could be returned. Bruce didn’t know if it was Tony being delusional and holding onto hope. Mostly, he just knew that if the snap had been able to erase people, then the stones would probably bring them back too. So, maybe Tony wasn’t too farfetched in saying they could get them back. It was just -- Bruce couldn’t just believe that they were going to somehow win. He had seen Thanos and he knew the kind of power that Thanos wielded and the team wasn’t even all there. Thanos had already defeated them once.

It was hard to look at the list Friday had compiled. She’d gone as far as to get as much of a profile as she could for everyone that was missing. Most importantly those that were in some way related to The Avengers or Shield. The list had finally stopped growing like crazy. The governments of the world were getting a little more organized and things were calming down as much as they could. Still, there were always new additions and Bruce looked at the list as much as he could even though he hated it.

Natasha was sitting with Thor at the table, but Bruce ignored them and looked at the display of the list. Bruce was surprised when Shuri’s name popped up.

They hadn’t seen her before leaving Wakanda, but no one had implied that she had turned to dust like her brother and yet she was on the list which meant somehow that no one knew where she was. He wondered for a moment what that would mean for Wakanda, but it was something that the people of Wakanda would figure out on their own.

Friday brought up another and paused it. Scott Lang.

“Who is Scott, again?” Bruce asked.

Rhodes answered, walking up behind him. “Ant-Man. I guess he’s gone too, then. Shame. Explains why he hasn’t gotten back to us.”

Rhodes came to stand next to Bruce and he looked at the list and shook his head. “I don’t know what we’re meant to do now. How was Tony doing?”

“He’s sleeping, hopefully. He’s a bit bruised up and we took care of the stab wound. He’s going to be fine. Well as fine as he can be after losing his son.”

Peter’s name was up on the list. Bruce had barely gotten to meet him -- had seen him only with the mask on and hadn’t even known who he was at the time since everything happened so fast. He could see how his lost hit everyone. Steve’s devastation had been the worst but then of course there was Tony and how he seemed to hardly be holding himself together. Bruce remembered when he’d first learned about Tony and Steve and their upcoming wedding and it had been a shock but seeing them since Tony’s return -- it felt so right and natural for them to be together. Bruce almost couldn’t believe that he hadn’t seen it coming.

“Did he say anything about what happened while he was in space?” Rhodes asked.

“Not much. He mentioned Doctor Strange getting a view of possible futures. He thinks it means we’re on the path to victory.”

Rhodey scoffed. “And what is this, then?”

Bruce pursed his lips. He wanted to believe that Tony was right. “Tony thinks -- he thinks that this is our path to winning. Doctor Strange had the Time Stone and he gave it up to save Tony’s life. Which, if you know anything about Strange shouldn’t have happened. It’s what made it possible for Thanos to turn back time and take the Mind Stone even after it was destroyed. Strange must have known that would happen and that he would turn to dust when Thanos snapped his fingers but he saved Tony anyway.”

“What does that mean?” Rhodey asked.

“Tony thinks that Strange did it knowing what would happen -- that he did it because it needed to happen so that we can find a way to defeat Thanos now.”

Rhodey rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a little crazy. We’re not all exactly rushing to go find Thanos. Not sure we could take him especially now that he has the stones.”

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. He stared as Friday moved through the missing profiles. Fury had officially been added to the list. Someone from Shield had found his car and presumably his dust next to a pager. It was supposed to be brought to them because Fury had sent a message and no one knew who he’d been trying to contact and with a pager no less.

Tony managed to sleep for a few hours, head pillowed on Steve’s shoulder, but Steve couldn’t sleep. He was too wired and too focused on Tony for sleep to be an option. Instead, he watched Tony and let him sleep. Tony needed it. His face was more relaxed in his sleep, but even then his fatigue was obvious. Steve thought that Bruce had to have snuck in something to help him fall asleep along with the painkillers because he doubted that Tony would have fallen asleep the way he did otherwise.

Steve didn’t know what to feel. He was happy to have Tony back, of course. But Peter was gone. So many people were gone...

Tony had called Peter theirs. Their son. Steve had never thought to consider Peter that way -- he was always just Tony’s son and yet maybe he’d already been thinking about Peter as his son too for far longer than he would have wanted to admit. Peter had told him that he was going to be his step-father back when he and Tony had first gotten engaged and it had been so absolutely touching. Steve had gotten extremely emotional over it.

Steve watched as Tony shifted but settled into his side again. He looked even in sleep like he couldn’t be at peace and yet he was beautiful. His fingers traced over Tony’s forehead and down his cheek. Steve couldn’t think of anyone else that he was as devoted to as he was Tony. The only one that might compare was Bucky but that was different. Bucky was family and his last friend left from his old life, but he didn’t mean what Tony meant to him. And Bucky was gone now, too. Dust just like Peter and so many others.

Tony moved closer, his face burrowing into Steve’s neck and his breath ghosting on Steve’s skin. He shivered in surprise, but settled and ran his hand through Tony’s hair. It was dirty but Steve didn’t care. Having Tony in his arms was everything. Steve didn’t care how long he’d be acting as Tony’s pillow and it didn’t matter because Tony was back and he needed rest and Steve was willing to give him anything he needed.

When Tony woke up, he woke up slowly, moving in Steve’s arms and shifting until he was trying to sit up. Steve helped him. Tony looked confused and unsure, his eyes moving from one side of the room to the other as if he couldn’t believe where was was.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright.”

“Steve,” Tony said and he let out a breath. “Oh god. Peter.”

It broke Steve’s heart to see how devastated Tony looked as he remembered. His face falling and pain etched into his frown. Tony took a deep breath and then he wrapped an arm around Steve, falling into his chest.

“I thought,” Tony said, “I kept thinking I’d come home and you’d be gone too. It was -- I was so afraid. Being out there and knowing Peter was -- but then, I didn’t know if I would make it here or what I would find and--”

“I’m not. I’m here. I’m here, Tony, and I’m never letting you go.”

Tony nodded as he pulled back. Steve didn’t let him go far, cupping his face and bringing him close to he could kiss him. It was not the best kiss. Tony gasped into it and their teeth clicked together and it was a little too hard and a little too messy and then Tony pressed his face into Steve’s shoulder and it didn’t really matter.

“He saw it coming. He was so scared. My boy, he was so scared and he just -- I couldn’t do anything, Steve, and he just he kept saying I don’t want to go…”

It was whispered into his shoulder but Steve heard it. His eyes stung thinking about it -- about Tony and Peter--

“I was holding him and then I wasn’t…”

“Oh, Tony.”

Tony was sobbing, shaking with the sobs that coursed through his body. Steve’s shirt was wet with his tears and Steve held Tony to his chest, failing to keep his own tears from falling.

Chapter One Hundred Thirty Two

[thewidowstanton]

Dangerous Steve, outdoor showman, comedy actor, Sideshow Illusions performer

Dangerous Steve is the stage name of Steve Collison, who was born in King’s Lynn but grew up near the Buckinghamshire village of Middle Claydon. He had the most extraordinary childhood and started living up to his name by doing dangerous things at a ridiculously young age. He was billed – by agents such as Bernard Woolley, TB Phillips and Temple’s Gala agency – as ‘the World’s Youngest Motorcycle Stunt Rider’. As well as touring internationally as Dangerous Steve, he has also worked with Magic Carpet Theatre – where he is company manager – for 30 years. And he regularly performs with Jon Marshall’s Sideshow Illusions and Dr Phantasma’s Amazing Ten in One Show.

Steve is married to fellow Sideshow Illusions performer Alexandra Collison, who was my first Widow interviewee, under her maiden name of Boanas. Alex, who is a trained soprano and has an MA in performance, often plays Yvette – the Headless Lady, Miss Elastina and No-Middle Myrtle, as well as Romana the Gypsy Queen on the Ladder of Swords. They have two children, Flossie and Winnie, who are almost destined to follow in their parents’ showbusiness footsteps. Steve chats to Liz Arratoon.

The Widow Stanton: When and how did you start stunt riding? Dangerous Steve: My dad, Peter, was the butler at Claydon House stately home in Buckinghamshire. At Christmas when I was five, Sharon, my sister, was getting lots of presents and I almost started getting a bit teary because I noticed I wasn’t getting as many. Then I was taken into the other room where there was a big present. Somewhere I’m on Cine film; there’s me unwrapping a motorbike, and apparently I just stood there shaking for ages, which was very funny. I started off just riding round the estate for a while but dad wasn’t very impressed with me just haring around on a motorbike, he wanted me to do tricks and stuff like that.

As a child, to be brought up at Claydon House… I was the only one on the estate as my sister went away to boarding school as a dancer. Sometimes I just wanted to kick a football around with my friends; on the other hand I did go around the estate thinking how lucky I was and how amazing the views over the lake were on summer evenings. We used to live in the courtyard. There was a swimming pool and stuff like that, which Sir Ralph and Lady Verney never really used, so I had my own little swimming pool. They were like my grandparents. I’d go round there on Christmas day and open presents with them.

I joined The Spirit of Britain junior motorcycle display team, which was run by a guy called Gus Scott, who used to train Eddie Kidd. I was with them from when I was five years old to seven. They were based in Luton and I toured around with them, but because I had so much space at home and they could only meet twice a week, I started practising all the tricks alone. My dad was thinking, ‘Well, he can now do all these tricks himself’, so he started taking me to do all the galas and carnivals around the country to perform on my own. Your dad sounds amazing. What sort of dad would give his kid a motorbike? Did he want to be in showbusiness himself? Yes, he did. He was very different. He managed to get an Equity card and had done some extra work and been in shows doing whatever he was asked to do. I think people are now quite interested in butlers and stately homes. My mum was very proud of me but would only watch me once I could do the tricks without falling off. I hurt myself but I never broke any bones with the motorbike. My dad was very good at starting off with quite basic things and was very strict on making sure I did things the right way. How much fun was all this for a kid? It was very exciting. I couldn’t sleep the week before a show. We’d go away in a big lorry and it was like a holiday, apart from I used to have to map-read. Some of these country fairs are in the middle of nowhere and one wrong turn, you could end up backing the lorry two miles down the road in the way of tractors… I soon got very good at map-reading because otherwise I’d get into so much trouble. I was doing tricks jumping over fire and through fire at seven or eight. Dad was very good at building props and made a tunnel of fire. Once we’d got the frame with all the fire straw in the middle of the park – we’d found a field without any sheep on it – I remember saying to him just before we lit it, ‘Dad, when we light the fire, what if I don’t want to do it?’, and he said: “You will do it. Now I’ve built it, you’ll do it.”

Once they were built, there was no going back and I’d practise and practise and practise. As I got older, people expected more from me, so the ability went up with my age; bigger jumps, bigger fire, pyrotechnics… because it was only me, whereas some of the bigger army display teams, like the White Helmets, would fill the stage. I had a load of publicity when I was awarded The Star newspaper Best in Britain award, presented by David Essex. I was sponsored by National, the petrol firm who used Smurfs to promote their brand. Sharon joined the act. Later she became a dancer and choreographer and now runs Claydons Academy, teaching dance and drama, but then she was a Smurf! Were you paid appearance fees? Yes. Once when I had a three-week tour in Scotland, the whole family came up there because it was in the summer holidays. We all stayed in a tent and it rained for most of the time. I can remember waking up one morning floating on an airbed. I didn’t realise until I put my foot outside the sleeping bag into a load of water that the whole family was floating! I’d get paid every week and we’d accumulated quite a bit of cash. The Leeds Building Society was doing deals at the gala that if you were a child you could open a bank account with £1 and you got a money box and a bag and stuff like that. Mum and dad decided the safest thing to do with the money was to go to open up an account. I was about eight. They were expecting me to give £1 and suddenly I had this wad of cash. They must have wondered where I’d got it from and just thought I’d stolen it or found it.

Did you ever go to school? I did. The school was very good and if ever there was a school fete or anything like that they’d always ask me to do my motorcycle stunt show. I was filmed on my motorbike for children’s TV with Anneka Rice, who once came to school. We had a mock school fete and she was lying down and I ended up jumping over her. What happened next? The motorbike act stopped when public liability insurance started getting really expensive. I was about 14. Then my dad and I toured the Crazy Brigade – a comedy fire brigade, very much Keystone Cops, very visual – round country shows and big galas. It was a comedy car act that drove on its own and fell apart, but it was more like a stunt comedy act. There was a lot of water! My dad built a human cannon and we thought, ‘Oh, we need an act for it’, especially when he’d taken a picture of it and sold it. We had ten shows booked in before we even had an act.

I used to worry; we had a prop, a comedy cannon, but no show. It blew up at the end and I went flying out of the end of it but not a great distance. I never got to the net on the other side of the arena. But we did it in the end and it was very successful. I knew Martin Burton of Zippos Circus from the galas and carnivals, rather than as a circus contact. When I was 15, in my last year at school, he kindly said I could do work experience on their theatre tour. Other people worked in the local bakery. I went to Wales and Carlisle and never went back to school.

What does Dangerous Steve actually do? It kind of depends where I’m booked to do it. If it’s in the middle of a town centre early on a Saturday morning with a few people walking past with shopping bags, the last thing they want to do is get stopped to watch a show by some nutter in the street. I try to make my show very entertaining and try to be likeable on stage. If it’s indoors and the audience is put there for me, it’s the same show but I have to work in a different way. I do ten things; I start on my motorcycle monowheel. It builds up a big crowd straightaway. I sit inside the wheel – the engine is inside it – and it’s a very difficult bike to balance and ride. I’ve spent the last three years learning how to do a new trick on it; a double loop the loop.

I then go on to my motorcycle sidecar, which I ride round, introduce myself, and then stand on top of the seat and juggle knives. Then I do some fire. With outdoor shows I try to make it really very appealing at the start to distract people from the funfair and the stalls by doing fire tricks and some big fireballs with fire whips and things like that…

Fire whips? Yes, they create a massive fireball. I go from there to the unsupported ladder, so I’m up high, talking to people telling them what they’re about to see, and if they don’t want to see it now’s the time to leave! I’m very proud of balancing on top of a ten-foot ladder. It’s scary, as I don’t like heights! Then I then do a giant rola-bola, so I’m on a tower, on top of a beer keg on its side and on top of a board, and then I go through a fire hoop. Then I juggle a chainsaw, and do my giant unicycle, which is bigger this year, a ten-foot unicycle, and then into a blindfold motorcycle stunt. I set two chainsaws going – possibly four this year – on a frame, and I ride round blindfolded and through the frame with a steel shield on my face and a hood over my head, which I get the audience to check. And, you know, hopefully I don’t cut my head off.

Has anything ever gone wrong? When I was learning, I broke my arm just before doing a show in a school hall. I thought, ‘That really hurt, I think I’ve damaged my arm’. In the first part of show I had to play the drums. Oh, my goodness, every time I hit the drums it was excruciating. 15 years later I finally learnt to do the trick I was trying when I broke my arm! I did a show in Scotland last year and before I went on, they announced that they were having a dog show and they’d put a big marquee in the corner of the arena, which made it quite narrow. I was driving my monowheel but I tipped over too far and the foot peg stuck into the ground and I went right over doing a somersault in the wheel, I flew out of it, got back on it, and carried on and the crowd loved it! [Laughs]

Then I got on my sidecar to juggle the knives and I went over a bump and one of the knives went into my face. I had blood running down my face. I looked at the organisers who were looking at me, like, ‘What have we booked, some cowboy?’, but actually, afterwards they loved it and they want me back. [Laughs] So it pays to hurt yourself sometimes.  

How did you learn all your other skills? Because I’ve been involved in so many shows over the years, I kind of picked up all these skills individually. It was a bit of watching others and trial and error. My show is very different to anyone else’s on the outdoor circuit. I don’t know anyone else who does some of the tricks, but I’ve seen someone else doing others and I’ve thought, ‘Oh, that would be perfect for my show’.

Do you have a natural ability to pick things up? Probably not. It’s practice, and a lot of the things I’ve learnt to do, I was a teenager. If you’re a teenager you don’t mind falling off so much. It doesn’t hurt so much. I must admit some of the time now, when I’m trying new stuff out, I do think, ‘Am I a bit old for this?’.

I believe there’s one motorbike stunt that I’ve done that you haven’t… [Laughs] Yes, yes. The Wall of Death! It’s a dream and an ambition one day to do it.

It was horrific but you would love it! I’m going to contact Jake Messham and try to arrange it. I should do it September because it’s always a little bit dangerous trying new tricks out just before you get really busy for the summer season.

And the Globe of Death, do you fancy that? I would love to try. I’d try anything really.

How do you divide your time? We’re trying to stay busy all year round and it is really busy. The summer is now crazy with Dangerous Steve, so every weekend and Bank Holiday and there seem to be a lot of agricultural shows in the week as well. Last August I went from Orkney to Guernsey, doing shows on the way down as well. Summer season now… outdoor shows seem to be really good, really healthy and a full season of shows, like the olden days, really. When that quietens off in September, we go into Magic Carpet theatre shows and December, we’re sold out in schools performing a theatre show.

How did you come to join Magic Carpet so young? After Zippos the school let me go off on more work experience with Jon Marshall, who I’d worked with in the galas and carnivals when he was The Man with the X-ray Eyes. Magic Carpet is his children’s theatre company that tours schools, art centres and theatres up and down the country and occasionally we get to go abroad. The shows are very visual, good fun and exciting. It’s a comedy play. We don’t have any big message; it’s just a great way to introduce children to live theatre. They laugh all the way through and if they haven’t seen much before, they come out absolutely buzzing. Jon is very good at making it exciting and understandable. It’s a bit of a rollercoaster with highs, but we also bring them down again. We know when the dangerous bits are coming up where the kids might shout out, but no one needs to be on edge as we’ve got them under control.

Do you feel you sort of owe your career to your dad, really? Yes, very much so, dad and Jon. All through my childhood I had so much respect for my dad and so much help, hours and hours of dragging me round the country, which I enjoyed. I enjoyed where I lived at the stately home, and also the travelling around at the same time. He would be working after I’d gone to bed out in the workshop, building props for me and I’d be practising with them after school the next day, probably falling off, breaking it, and he’d be back in the workshop again mending it and telling me not to fall off again.

Do you think your experience could happen to a child these days because of health and safety… It would be very difficult. Even now with Flossie, if she falls over, the first thing that goes through your mind when she goes to pre-school, they’re going to see a bruise and it’s going to have to go in a report and they ask how it happened. They also ask the child as well to see if the stories match, whereas when I was a child and did The Spirit of Britain, I remember we were doing some practising and I set off the wrong way round the arena, ending up colliding with another bike, fell off, the foot peg went into my foot, I ended up in hospital, and then a couple of days later it was all forgotten. I wouldn’t want Flossie to hurt herself and there are ways of learning tricks with protection, but I wouldn’t put her off doing what I did. I try not to be too pushy with her because I think slow and steady will win the race.

Not like yer dad then? [Laughs] [Laughs] To be honest she’s only four, a little bit younger than I was when I started. But she is very keen on running onstage at the end of the show and she likes to go in the blade box, with blades in it. I’ve got a motorbike and sidecar and last year in Poynton, near Manchester, she sat on the sidecar.

Did you ever imagine that this would be your life? No, but later on in school everyone was talking about what they were going to do as a career, and I did think, ‘What the hell am I going to do?’. Then I thought, ‘Well, actually, I quite like what I do now. At the age of 15 I’ve already got quite a few years’ experience behind me. I’ve learnt how to do things and how not to do things’. So it would have been a waste not to carry on, and I’m so glad I stuck at it. When you’re a teenager sometimes the grass is always greener on the other side. When I was getting towards 19, some of my mates were earning quite good money doing other things, and I was thinking, ‘Oh, should I change what I do?’, but obviously I’m so glad I didn’t. I love it more now than ever.

Dangerous Steve will be appearing at Kimpton in Hertfordshire on 4 May, 2019 at the start of his summer season. Check his website for details.

Picture credit: Ian Spooner

Steve’s website

Twitter: @DangerousSteve1 @sideshowmagic

Follow @TheWidowStanton on Twitter

[tazmoney-blog1]

401 : MIND MAP De-construction OF Taz

15th NOVEMBER 2017

CONTEXTUAL UNDERSTANDING:

Influenced by a very young age from music it was my saver my soul jus felt so complete wen i would hear music and dance, so being born in the early 90s i grew up listening to a lot of early 90s hip-hop, living in Australia we only got american and english music Australian music wasn't massive in the pop charts to an extent. Also growing up in a remote place our town almost felt like an island coz beautiful beaches backed onto bush,so its a madd mix between Island Music and Rap to Hip-hop to everything. 

So i would listen to a lot of Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, Dancehall TO

 2000′s west coast Rap including Dr.Dre, SnoopDogg, Eazy E, TO 

Missy Elliot,  Eminem, Mariah Carrey, Beyonce, Destiny Child, Craig Davis, Lana DelRay, Lauryn Hill, Rhianna, Nicki Minaj TO 

Nina Simone, Hot Chocolate, George Micheal, Whitney Houston, AND

everything from Afrobeats, Bashment, Soul, Jazz 

This is a picture of my Home town GERALDTON , W.A, 6530 

xxxxxxx

iIMAGE AND IDENTITY:

I believe our image and identity is always evolving (for some), but everything in your life you come across the people you come across the experiences, everything shapes you weather you want it to or not.

But for me all of that includes but what i try indulge my self into for myself coz of how i iz and who i iz as a spirit and soul , I have a very unique and different energy and vibrations but what that has branched from would be:

Growing up in remote place always wondering what else is out there,

Having to realise to get anywhere in life and out of this little town I’VE gotta do it for MYSELF and BY MYSELF = Solitaire = Elighqment Consciousness Awakening = Spiritually Awoken = Spiritual Guidance = Your road to your reason... 

Olive Skinned English- Australian , Mum was born in Bristol and went to Australia when she was young so I jus coming back to the roots coz i didn't feel Australia was where i belong kinda. Was born in Australia 

Loud, Engeries, Tattoos, Open Minded, Love, Kind, But don't F**k me off 

Mind over matter, Stay focused, Manifest Law of attraction 

Snoopdogg - inspired how he created his own clothing line and when was launched only wore his WEST COAST brand 

Rhianna, Missy Elliot, Nicki Minaj, Beyonce, Lil Kim, Lauryn Hill = ME 

HIP-HOP > CULTURE > RUSTA > VAULES & ACKNOWLEDGES OF SELF

xxxxxxxx

CREATIVE OUTPUT:

My creative output for where I iz at currently in NOVEMBER 2017 as a producer, an artist, always a student because I'm always learning am about to start getting back into learning the keyboard and guitar again, and also just started to undertake producing for an artist aswell, there is only so much i do know and what i can learn for output coz I'm trying to do a lot of things at ounce, but so far for my Production side I have a 

Soundcloud >INSTAGRAM > Youtube >> DANKprodcution > Instrumentals

As an Artist I currently am working on a mixtape so i don't put anything out as i would like to but i also would prefer it to be not rushed and more perfect and i guess because I'm still trying to0 find my sound as I'm producing for myself for what i want the world to hear me as is still creating/building well more trying to get me myself and my should into music.

As i am who i iz I have always been a crazy, loud, soul. 

i always dance when i hear music i LOVE dancing,

I am currently starting my own clothing line starting with Tracksuits so basically sports urban wear so look out on INSTAGRAM for the dropping of that.

so hopefully that will help everything bounce of each other so from wearing my clothing i get free cloths ,my famz and fans help promote and they get clothing when they wear it and followers following me will follow them vis-versa , it will pre-mote the production side of my business, as an artist i will always wear my own clothing so people that only see me as an artist this will promote my production and the business of the clothing 

xxxxxx

EXPERIENCE:

As the age of where i iz today 23, i have found that the experiences i have been thru changes me on every occasion from Leaving my Home town to Perth witch was 4 hours south, the moving to Melbourne in Victoria ,Australia which was 4 hour flight across 2 boarders, than moving to London which was a 24 hour flight all by myself. Being in England by myself don't really have any close family well non known of besides the family have made with the people i have met. I have gone thru a lot in the last 3 years.

Being away from my sister and cousin and niece and nephew is defiantly the hardest thing but the future will be so much better for us..

I love travelling, when i was in High School i didn't really pay attention coz in my soul i knew that the only way to learn is and the best way is to travel, to places you never even known existed, cultures you've never hurd about, and just to grow as a great person.. Iv been to California, Hawaii, Las Vagas, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand , Bali, New Zealand, Brazil, Spain, France, Scotland (jus for a drake concert so need to go back to explore). 

Places i wanna go visit Jamaica, Caribbean of course, Cuba, Africa, like basically every country in the world if i can.. 

I was a chef for 5 years so i felt so missed out so from 16 to 21 i was working soon much 18 hour days 6-7 days a week some weeks i spent the last 2 years of my chaffing having an other job at night 4-7 days a weeks so basically spent 2 year not having a day off on 4-5 hours sleep a day, jus to change my life well slightly shift it to get out of cuffing and change my life to my music life. 

I started dancing in clubs from 21 because it gave me the opportunities to pay for the music school i water to go to for 2 years, helped me move my life over to the UK, helped support my sister n her babies gave me the time during my weeks to basically “work” in my home studio from 4-8 hours a day 7 days a week if I'm not busy doing other things, oh and the dancing helped me get all my music equipment 3 times over because if the events that have happened iv even had to leave music equiptment behind, or its gotten stolen but its all gud..

xxxxxxxxx

PRODUCT:

PRESENTS - My products i currently have is My digital product so Soundcloud, Youtube, Instagram.

Physical products is my DANK hoodie that i wear everywhere but other items is in the mix of surfacing jus finalising a few things 

FUTURE - for future i would love to have a full collection of clothing, and eventually going into a badgyall luxury line swell of nights out an pretty face days.

Digitally to have a platform for me and my artist and eventually have my own record label to be able to have an empire of amazing musician. the platform will have my production side where i want to produce other artist and have them in my label, a side for me as an artist , a side for my artist, and jus for production where people can buy tracks or use them so for.

and than eventually have an orginization where people can learn, and jus indulge in the industry 

xxxxxx

MARKET AWARENESS:

LABELS - I haven't really thought about the label side of things until i get a lil bit more comfortable and establish as myself than ill think about it.  

VISUAL - Magazines including XXL, Rollingstone, The Source

               Digital includes Youtube for interviews, and  Documentaries 

INDOURSMENTS- It would be nice to be endorsed by sport brands including ADIDAS, NIKE, PUMA, as you bounce of each other your fans see you in adidas and they go buy it vis-versa .

xxxxxxxxx

CLIENT/FANBASE:

Currently i have just started producing for this lovely Gyal her name is Jade so this will be very excited to be able yo be apart of her journey to have the opportunities to create her mixtape.

The best thing i love about this project is i get the change to produce beats i wouldn't make for myself but would be proud to make and produce for some one else coz how jade is her style and everything i love so much and theres a lil side of that in me so i think thats why it would be a great project. so hopefully we get that exactly how she wants it , and than hopefully i can take on another artist ounce i can handle more. Eventually by 2020 to have 5 artist I'm producing for Mixtape to Album or what ever happens 

xxxxxxx

CLIENT RELATIONSHIPS:

FASHIION SIDE: Hopefully everybody i know that i have either met or personally know they will support me with buying my clothing from having an Australian store online and a UK one should be good and a wide rage of people.

MUSIC: My relations i have in the music scene in UK is 

Newcastle: Kashy 

Leeds: Paddyf, Direct

London: Jahlani, Mega, Mass Mon, Dabeatfreakz, TazDmt, 

INDUSTRY AWARENESS:

At the moment i don't have the biggest awareness within the industry but what i do know or kinda know off is including:

Deals > INDOURSMENTS > bookings > MANAGEMENT > publishment > GIGGS > a&r > etc etc 

xxxxxxxx