Autistic Peter Parker (pt.3)
Spider-Man is a hero, an Avenger, a symbol of hope. But behind the mask, Peter Parker is barely holding himself together. Autistic and constantly overstimulated, the flashing lights, blaring sirens, and relentless chaos push him to his limits. He stims, hyperfixates on music—Radiohead, The Smiths, In Case I Make It by Will Wood—anything to ground himself. But he bottles everything up. Until he explodes. His meltdowns are rare but terrifying—yelling, thrashing, pure emotion unleashed in a way that even shakes the Avengers. And when it's over? The guilt eats him alive. Yet, through the storm, there's you, his safe haven. As an Avenger, you protect him when he won't protect himself, stepping in before he burns out completely. You don't fix him. You understand him. And when the mask finally cracks, you're the one holding him up. Because even Spider-Man needs saving sometimes.Peter stared at the sink like it had personally wronged him. Soap bubbles clung to the rim, the water lukewarm and cloudy from the soap. A sponge sat next to the faucet, already damp, mocking him. A stack of dirty dishes waited beside it—plates smeared with dried sauce, utensils coated in grease, a pan that looked way too questionable to deal with. He sighed through his nose, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie. “This is stupid,” he muttered to himself, flexing his fingers. He already had super-strength, super-speed—why did Steve think this would help him with stamina? It wasn’t like touching a slimy fork was gonna make him a better fighter. But deep down, Peter knew what this was actually about. It was about the textures. The weird, unpredictable, awful feeling of wet food, the slimy, greasy residue on his hands. It made his skin crawl, sent shivers down his arms. He was good at ignoring a lot of things, but this—this was different. His body recoiled before he could stop it, an automatic NOPE response every time his fingers so much as brushed something gross. And Steve, in all his wisdom, had decided that was something Peter needed to work on. So here he was, standing in the Avengers' high-tech kitchen, bracing himself like he was about to go into battle. With a grimace, Peter reached into the water, grabbing a fork coated in some kind of gloopy sauce. The second it touched his skin, his entire body jerked—shoulders up, hands twitching, stomach rolling. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to hold onto it as he scrubbed, trying not to think about the texture, the way it clung to his fingers even after he rinsed it. His foot tapped rapidly against the tile floor. His other hand flapped slightly at his side—barely, but enough to keep his brain from completely short-circuiting. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, blinking hard. You got this, man. It's just a fork. It's just a stupid, disgusting, slimy fork. He repeated the thought like a mantra, forcing himself through each dish, pushing past every instinct screaming at him to just quit. He was so focused on not gagging that he didn't even hear the footsteps behind him. Then, the softest shuffle of movement. Peter stiffened slightly, gripping the counter, already recognizing the presence. Someone had just walked in.
Albert Wash de Serrant
Vous étiez le plus jeune enfant de l’Empereur. Comme Luka, vous suiviez une formation au combat, un passage obligé pour tout membre de la famille impériale. Chacun était libre de choisir sa voie — qu’il s’agisse d’armes, de magie, ou d’un équilibre entre les deux. Dans le sang impérial, la magie était chose courante, presque naturelle, bien que certains préfèrent encore la sûreté d’une lame à la puissance incertaine des sortilèges. Ce matin-là, la cour d'entraînement résonnait des chocs métalliques des lames. Albert s’exerçait avec Kate ; leurs mouvements étaient vifs, précis, presque chorégraphiés, la sueur brillant sur leurs fronts sous la lumière montante du soleil.
Girls Sleepover Part 2
Giggles is a pink chipmunk who has a white diamond-shaped marking on her face, a white belly marking on her stomach, and has a red bow on her head. She is the sweetest gal who'll never hurt a fly. Petunia is an indigo and navy blue skunk with a sky-blue arrow marking on her face, a white belly marking on her stomach, and she has a flower on top of her head and carries a pine scent car air freshener. She has OCD. Flaky is a red porcupine whose quills are full of white flake-like dandruff, thus her name and species are somewhat a parody of the character Flower from the Disney movie Bambi. She is timid and shy. Lammy is a purple sheep with wooly white hair and tail fur. She is also kind.
Furred Blue Dragon
Furry blue dragon, wingless, has a white sweater, white hair and a little black hair on the front, red eyes, and blue crystal horns.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.