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lemonpeter · 4 years

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Catch Me if You Can- chapter 4

Tags: @sherly-not-obsessed @mykale-yellow @avaxxc @alette606 @starkravingspiders @smidnite @indecisive-mess-named-me @mercury-deacon-taylor-may @seaweedbrain3000 @aoifelaufeyson @ironspiidey @ironfestivalgoopmaker @darknessyuu @john--imnotgay--watson

Warnings: little bit of steamy stuff (Harley x Peter), no cheating but Peter keeps having thoughts about Tony

But then, Peter’s bad mood seemed to dissipate just as soon as it appeared.

By their next class he was back to normal, playful banter filling the room.

“Stark, are you actually trying to finish the problem or are you contemplating your life’s decisions? Because at this point...I really can’t tell. Can you?” Peter teased, not even looking up from his paper. He scribbled down the last answer just as Tony stood up, racing to the front of the room to turn his paper in.

“Oh, I was just beating you, Parker. That’s what.” Tony grinned, leaning against the teacher’s desk.

Their teacher, Mr. Carter, chuckled, already used to their silly rivalry. He checked the answers on Tony’s paper, humming quietly to himself. Then he looked back to the boy when he was done. “Very good. All correct.”

Peter huffed, handing him his now-completed paper next.

As a surprise to none, his answers were all correct as well.

They sat back down, right back to bickering as the teacher stood to go over the assignment from the night before.

“Parker, did you even do the work? Or were you too busy staring into your boyfriend’s eyes?”

Peter’s face went red, but he still responded. “I was busy puking my guts out, but I still got it done. What about you? I’m sure you had to give your person of the night some attention, did you get the paper done?”

Tony snorted. He hadn’t had anyone over, but he could still play with that. “Oh, I’m multi-talented, haven’t you heard? But I’m sure you wouldn’t know anything about that, with-”

“Boys!” Mr. Carter interrupted, shaking his head. “I’m amused as much as anyone with your little game, but it can’t be going on while I’m teaching. Wouldn’t want your lack of attention to reflect on your work, hmm?”

Both shook their heads, looking back to the front and pointedly not looking at each other. They weren’t going to let anything mess them up.

As soon as the first question was asked, both boy’s hands shot up.

The force was enough to lift the hem of Peter’s sweater just a fraction of an inch against his stomach. But it was just enough.

Tony’s eyes drifted momentarily, catching the pale sliver of skin that peeked out. Then he was focused on the lean muscle there. Woah.

“Yes, Mr. Stark, do you have the answer?” Mr. Carter asked, calling on Tony.

Eyes still fixed on Peter’s skin, Tony couldn’t seem to find the answer he had just seconds ago. “Uh…”

The class erupted into laughter, the teacher just shaking his head. “Maybe don’t raise your hand unless you know the answer next time.”

Tony’s face burned, finally tearing his eyes away. “I-I did…”

But he found his brain a bit clouded with the image of the delicate muscles Peter fucking Parker was hiding. Damn.

***

The end of the day came quickly.

Peter met Harley at his locker. Maybe the other boy had upset him earlier, but he still loved him. It was just a stupid comment. Not a big deal. Peter had determined he had just overreacted. So Harley was still coming over after school.

Harley kissed his boyfriend softly when he saw him, smiling. “Hey, sugar. We’re still planning on me staying for dinner?”

Nodding, Peter tucked himself into Harley’s side. “Of course. And...I have a surprise for you.” He smiled shyly, looking at the ground. He had decided to show him what the spider’s bite had done. He wouldn’t give the full story, but he could show the physical change.

Eyebrows raised, looking interested. “Oh yeah?” The other boy grinned, shutting his locker and wrapping an arm around his boy’s waist. “And...I’m assuming Ben and May aren’t home?”

Peter shook his head, slight smile tugging at his lips. “Nope.”

“Awesome. Let’s get going.” Harley grinned, kissing Peter again.

They started walking to the doors, leaving school. Peter was full of jittery excitement, nearly trembling. Maybe Harley had been upset with his gained weight before, but he was sure he would appreciate the cause of the gain.

He hoped he would, at least.

Tony was nearby, listening to them and watching just enough to not be noticed.

He watched them go, sighing. He didn’t understand why Peter could just so easily forgive the guy that had made him cry so much earlier.

But he figured he just didn’t really understand relationships. Why tie yourself to one person? It seemed stupid to him.

But he found himself thinking about whether or not he would want that with Peter.

Definitely not. (Yes.)

He left school as well, trying to shake off the thoughts. He didn’t want that with Peter. He told himself not to be stupid.

***

Peter and Harley got to Peter’s building, getting into his apartment and dropping their bags near the front door.

“So, what was this surprise?” Harley asked immediately, grinning. He sat down on the couch, stretching out and holding his arms open.

Peter chuckled, crawling into his lap and kissing him softly. He hoped he wasn’t too heavy. So he shifted his weight a little, ending up straddling his boyfriend to keep the weight mostly off of him. Neither of them would complain about the new position.

“I just have something to show you,” Peter murmured, moving his lips to Harley’s neck.

The other boy hummed, hands drifting to Peter’s waist and pushing his shirt up. He just wanted to get his hands on that creamy white, flawless skin. Then he paused, eyebrows furrowed. “What…?”

Peter blushed, hiding his face in Harley’s neck. “Surprise,” he murmured.

Pushing up the sweater, Harley’s eyes ran over the unfamiliar expanse of muscles over his boyfriend’s torso. “When...how…” He looked to Peter, obviously confused. “Pete, what is this?”

Peter pulled back, face a pale pink that made his freckles really stand out. “I told you it was a surprise.” He giggled softly, trying to hide his face again.

Harley nodded slowly, pushing the sweater the rest of the way up and pulling it over Peter’s head. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips quickly. “This...wow…” He seemed unable to form an entire thought.

Not fighting it, Peter stretched a little as if to show off a little. “You don’t need to keep your hands to yourself, y’know. You can touch…”

Harley grinned at that, hands immediately reaching out. His fingers traced over new abs, trailing over jutting hipbones and the muscled V between them. “This is incredible. God, you’re gorgeous”

Peter blushed, hips rocking forward a little. He found that he was seeming a lot more sensitive in his lower half and was reacting accordingly. And he was suddenly nervous. “Harles, maybe we should slow down a little. Maybe I’m not as ready to explore this as I thought.”

Harley looked at him, sighing softly. He didn’t move his hands. “C’mon, sweetheart. We haven't done anything in such a long time. Let’s have a little bit of fun.”

Peter bit his lip, thinking about it. That wasn’t entirely true. Peter would help Harley get off quite a bit, whether with a hand or with his mouth. It was just that the favor was never really returned. It had been so long since Harley touched him that it was believable that he had bulked up like that without him noticing. In a normal amount of time.

He sighed, giving in a little. He wanted to feel wanted. Wanted to be touched. So maybe just this time he could give in…

Harley leaned in, kissing him softly. “Come back to me, Petey. You’re spacing out again.”

“Sorry. Sorry. Just thinking. I think...we can do a little bit. But not all the way.” It wasn’t like they had gotten that far anyways. “I think they’re going to be home soon anyways.” Who it was went unsaid. It was just a bit of a mood killer to mention parents or parental figures while feeling each other up.

“Okay. We can make this quick.” Harley grinned.

***

To be fair, they made it quick.

Making out, grinding on each other like the horny teenagers they were until Harley decided it wasn’t enough for him.

So, Peter helped him, without complaint, until his stomach and abs were painted with pearly white streaks of cum.

Not his own, of course.

Then Harley claimed to be too tired to help him out, so Peter got himself off after he was cleaned up.

And just in time, too. May and Ben got home just after that.

So they sat at the dinner table, everyone silent as they picked at the pasta dish that Ben had fixed.

May was the first to speak up, smiling a little bit at her nephew’s boyfriend. “It’s so good to see you again, Harley. It’s been a while.”

He grinned, shrugging a little. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. School just keeps me so busy. And home does too. And work.” He just had a lot going on all the time.

But Peter knew that it wasn’t that much. Not so much that they couldn’t go on a date once in a while. Not so much that Harley couldn’t help Peter make plans for anniversaries. Yet he always seemed to be too busy.

So the other boy stayed silent, just eating.

May nodded. “And how is your sister doing?”

Peter tuned out the small talk, just eating.

He found his mind drifting to Tony. What was he doing? Did he have someone over? Did he ever think about Peter aside from the rivalry?

How would Tony react to Peter’s new body? Would he be interested? More interested than Harley had been? Would he actually pay attention to Peter and what he wanted?

He sighed softly, trying to chase those thoughts away by shovelling more food into his mouth. He didn’t need to think like that. He had a boyfriend. And Tony didn’t want him like that.

So he was with Harley. Who loved him. He knew he loved him.

He hoped so, at least.

#catch me if you can #peter x tony #tony x peter #peter parker #harley x peter #peter x harley #harley keener #keenker #parkner #starker #little bit steamy #light smut #starker hs au #hs au #i feel like im missing some tags #may parker #ben parker #me just going on about peters muscles

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thebeethathums · 5 years

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Expectant Moments 3/6

John Watson x Pregnant!Reader

Notes: Transfering my old fics from 2013 to here!

As always if you can’t find the next chapter message me or check out my DeviantArt or Archive of Our Own under the same username.

You flopped on the couch, feeling a lot like a breaching whale, and exhaled upwards forcefully to remove the hair from your face. It had been a bit over three months since you had found out you were two months pregnant, putting you at nearly six months along. You had only started to show about a month ago but since then you’d ballooned up to a size that you compared to a small planet. December had crept up on you without you even realizing, awaking one day to a smattering of snow on the buildings outside. It was snowing now as you sat, confined to the flat, because both Sherlock and John insisted you shouldn’t be running around, much less in the snow. You had accepted that there was no way you were going to worm your way out of that fate, instead resigning yourself to thoroughly cleaning the flat while they were gone, a task that had left you exhausted. You had just relaxed into the couch and were slipping into a much-needed nap when the little being inside you chose to make itself known.

You sighed, “Seriously? First thing I’m going to do is sign you up for football.”

This had been going on for the past few days. You hadn’t told anyone yet but the baby had started kicking and shortly after it started it seemed to fall into a sort of schedule… and that schedule was every time mom laid down to sleep or rest baby started a round of belly kickboxing. You groaned and tried to ignore it, throwing an arm over your eyes, when the door suddenly flew open. John and Sherlock were bickering as they came in and pulled off their snow-covered coats but stopped abruptly when they noticed you on the couch. “(F/N) is something wrong? Are you feeling well? Is it-“ You waved an arm to halt John’s mini-panic session, “I’m fine John. Just tired.” Sherlock looked around, it had been a proper mess when they left-papers, books and dishes everywhere- and now not a single thing was out of place, “You cleaned.” John let his focus wander from you to his surroundings and then sort of gaped before turning back to you to scold, “You’re supposed to be taking it easy, not taxing yourself by cleaning our mess.” You didn’t respond, blocking out the rest of whatever lecture you were surely receiving in an attempt to nap again and again a little foot smacked you, causing you to let out a little growl. John didn’t notice, continuing to pace and rant, but Sherlock did, coming to lift your legs and sit underneath them before letting them slide into his lap. You opened your eyes to look at him and found his blue-green eyes searching yours questioningly, one eyebrow raised. You let your eyes flick down to the little mountain that was your stomach and then back up to him, communicating with him wordlessly. He hesitantly placed one of his long elegant hands on it just in time to feel one of the more forceful kicks and then quickly pulled away, eyes wide. You closed your eyes again, letting out a long frustrated and tired sigh, and you felt Sherlock's hand go back to your stomach. “How long has it been doing that?” Sherlock asked quietly, not wanting to draw John’s attention. You put your arm over your eyes again, feeling a headache coming on, and in an equally quiet voice responded, “Since I laid down. It has been happening every time I try to rest since about a week ago.” You sat in silence again and you felt yourself starting to drift off, happily relaxing into the darkness that approached as the baby’s kicks slowed and softened. You were jarred out of it when, as if on cue, it’s little feet picked up their pace and determination, pounding on your insides like there was no tomorrow. You groaned loudly, entirely fed up with this cycle of events, causing John to stop and look at you, confused. Sherlock had been observing you the entire time and placed his hand on your stomach again, surprising you when he addressed it in a soft but firm voice, “Little Watson your mother is very tired and would appreciate it very much if you would cease your activity so that she may sleep.” The baby actually did as he asked, very abruptly stopping its bombardment of the inner wall of your belly, and you let out a sigh of relief, “I don’t know how that worked but thank you Sherly.” John was staring at the two of you, still entirely confused, “What activity?” You exhaled slowly, “The reason I’ve been so tired is because every time I try to sleep your child decides that it’s time to practice karate. It seems it’s quite good at it too.” John grinned widely then, bouncing over to kneel beside you and place a hand on your stomach, “It’s kicking?” “Not anymore. Thanks to Sherlock… maybe I can finally get some sleep now.” John looked at you, noticing the indicators of fatigue in your face that he hadn’t before, but was still disappointed. You knew he was and felt bad enough to offer, “Little one you have my permission to continue your activities.” Sure enough, as soon as you said it the kicking started again. You tried to stifle a groan rather unsuccessfully as John beamed, laughing happily as the baby kicked at his hand. “You are so lucky I love you. That was the first time it’s left me alone in a week.” You grumbled and that caught his attention. “A week? You haven’t slept well in a week?” You nodded and he looked back at your stomach frowning before laying a hand on it, “Please stop baby. You’re running your mother ragged.” Nothing changed and you chuckled, “It’s already stopped listening to you, John. What are we going to do when it’s a teenager?” He frowned at your stomach again, displeased that it was causing you distress, and Sherlock placed his hand gently at its highest point, smirking slightly, “That’s quite enough Little Watson. Your father has had his fill.” The kicking stopped almost instantaneously again and he grinned proudly, “It looks as if your child likes me more than you John.” John let out an exasperated sigh and began arguing with him over whom the unborn child loved, and would love, more but you hardly heard any of it, drifting off into the first restful sleep you’d had in a long time.

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glowamber · 6 years

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K -Say something nice about someone in any of your fandoms

Are we doing the alphabet? I’m here for it. LET ME RATTLE OFF A LIST OF SOME OF MY FAVORITE PEOPLE

@ajoyfultrashcollection is my BFF and doesn’t get enough credit for everything. Almost all of my AUs are her AUs, too, most of which she came up with and I helped flesh out. Nothing I write or draw would be as good if I didn’t bounce them off her, first. We’ve been friends for years and it kills me that she doesn’t get as much love as she deserves, she’s AMAZING.

@starxapple is amazing and fantastic and so level headed and always there for me when I need someone to talk to. She’s made me cry before because she’ll step in when I’m super stressed out and just lend a shoulder and let me tell you, that means a lot. It’s hard to be the bad cop and sheriff all the time and I cannot scream enough about how much I appreciate her aid and her friendship.

@tangledbea is ALSO fantastic and boy I know she puts up with a lot and she has the patience of a saint, I’m constantly awed by how chill she can be. Also she’s another Lance fan, the original Lance fan, and I follow humbly in her footsteps.

@aquaquadrant is an incredible writer and storyteller and also fun to goof with and riff off of. Her characters are incredibly well made and cripes, she’s just so much fun and so respectful?? A++ 10/10

@becauseimrichandican is so patient that I cannot even handle. How do you do it? I couldn’t do it. I feel the urge to constantly jump over and marvel at how patient and sweet and engaging she is, Sherly is phenomenal and deserves praise. She’s so good at helping people develop OCs, at being invested in people’s interests, like, mad props to you.

@izaswritings writes so well and I love her stuff and her, please check out her stories. You won’t regret it.

There are probably a dozen more people I could list but these are the ones just right off the top of my head, I LOVE U GUYS

#ask meme #so many people #djcrazygirl

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clover0522 · 2 years

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11/25/2021

Oh my Love! You look so innocent like a baby when you’re asleep. Lol! Anyways, Happy Thanksgiving Love. I don’t know if I greeted you but oh well it’s given na for the both of us hahaha.

Really though, I hope you know how much I am Thankful for you. You’re one of the reason why I’m trying to be better Love. Thank you for believing in me when I don’t even believe on myself anymore. Thank you for showing me how I should be treated. Thank you for Loving me & Raiden. Thank you for always making me feel so specially everyday. Thank you for helping me all the time without hesitation and asking for something in return. Thank you for not getting tired of me “yet” lol! You better fuck’n not. Haha! I love you Love and I hope you know that I really appreciate you in all that you do for me. Thank you for being my backbone Love. You’re the reason why I am stronger now. You’re the reason why I’m slowly getting up on my own feet and why I stop questioning myself on how I’m not able to do anything on my own. 😘🤗 I know that right now we can’t show each other off just yet, but one day the world will know how lucky I am to have you. I just hope that you won’t ever get tired of my ass hahahaha. I am so thankful for having you as my best friend, my partner, my supporter, my super man, and for being my person. Love, I really do appreciate you. A lot! I promise that I will try to be better for you, I promise to support you in everything that you do, I promise to be right beside you always. I promise to cheer you up whenever you need me to. Most of all, I promise to always love you everyday & for always. Oh, one more thing.. I promise to annoy you forever. Haha Happy Thanksgiving again Love & I am thankful for you. - Love Always, Sherlie

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susatodrop · 7 years

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if wishing made it so (DGS2 fanfiction)

SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE DGS SERIES, meaning both DGS1 and DGS2 in their entirety. Please do not read this if you do not want to be spoiled.

if wishing made it so (AO3 Link)

Fold it up, call it love, and bring it to a quiet place.

Characters: Naruhodou Ryuunosuke, Mikotoba Susato, Asougi Kazuma, Iris Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Barok van Zieks

Notes: Some writing I did as a breather in the midst of working on my actual DGS2 celebratory/appreciation fic. DGS2 has completely ruined my life (in a good way)

.…Writing to take a break from writing… what madness is this…

A note about honorifics - since they all speak English in London, my way of treating the honorifics used by the characters in-game is to make just the Japanese characters keep them (specifically Susato since she’s the most relevant example) even to the British characters if there’s not a good equivalent. …Well, I fully admit I just dealt with it as I pleased to make my life easier.

An inexpressible amount of gratitude to airisuwatoson and turnaboutancestor for their DGS playthroughs, without which I wouldn’t have been able to write this. Each and every update always had me on edge. Thank you!!!

One last warning that this fic contains spoilers for all of DGS2.

A story of a thousand wants.

“And then, you fold this triangle down to make the head.”

“Like this?”

“Yes! Very good, Iris-sama!”

At the double cheer resounding from behind, Ryuunosuke tears his eyes gratefully away from his textbook and glances over his shoulder, curiosity prickling at the back of his neck. “What are you two doing?”

Susato turns to face him, beaming. “I was just teaching Iris-sama how to fold a paper crane. Look how well it turned out, Naruhodou-sama!”

“It was only because Susie was so good at teaching me!” Iris Watson chirps, lifting her arms to proudly show Ryuunosuke the small, folded crane that rests on her hands. “It’s so cute!” The girl whirls around once, bright pink curls spinning with the motion, and the crane very nearly seems as if it could take flight right then.

Ryuunosuke crouches in front of her to get a better look, admiring the piece. “It’s really good considering it was your first time, Iris-chan.” Indeed, there is barely a careless crease or wrinkle in the paper, only straight, clean lines that are evident of a studious precision. “I still remember when I first tried folding one when I was younger. You couldn’t even tell it was a crane at all.”

A good-natured giggle spills from Susato’s lips, her hand going to her mouth. “That’s very like you somehow, Naruhodou-sama.”

“O-Oh, is it…?”

“But origami is something that can be done by anyone,” she continues, looking back fondly to Iris’s crane. “All it requires is a little patience.”

“Well, true enough.” His disastrous first attempt had left a bitter taste in his throat, and Ryuunosuke recalls the indignant determination that had refused to let him rest until he had folded a successful crane. “I actually got pretty good at it as I kept folding more, although I haven’t done any since we came to London.”

“There’s still paper here if you want to make one too,” Iris calls, waving the sheets in his direction.

After a moment of contemplation, the words escape of their own accord. “…I think I will.” He reaches over to take one of the proffered papers. “…Wait. These papers are my notes from previous cases!”

“Oh, are they?” Yet the untroubled tone with which Iris responds tells him that she is perfectly aware. “They were just scattered all over the floor, so I figured they were just going to be thrown away later anyway.”

“I might’ve wanted to look over them for reference in the future…”

At the excuse, weak to even Ryuunosuke’s own ears, Susato places her hands on her hips and looks at him sternly. “Is that how you should treat valuable documents, Naruhodou-sama? By leaving them without care or organization on the floor?”

“N-No…”

“Besides, if you are in need of references from our past cases, I have also recorded information in my notes.” With that, Susato fishes out a small, bound book, a certain pride brimming in her motions. “You may look through them at your leisure.”

“…As expected of you, Susato-san.” It is certainly not the first time, and he knows it will be far from the last, that awe at her diligence washes through his entire body and leaves a strange warmth in its wake.

“It is simply my natural duty as your legal assistant, Naruhodou-sama,” Susato smiles. “With that, I trust you have no objections to the usage of your scrap paper?”

My case notes were downgraded to “scraps”... He allows himself only a small sigh, relenting at last. “I guess it is better than just seeing them all over the ground.” Without further ado, Iris hands him a sheet and cheerfully sets about folding another one.

At that moment, the door to the attic suddenly bursts open and a tall, lanky man waltzes in, a wounded expression on his face. “What’s this? No greeting when I arrive home, and instead I find you all cooped up in this dingy, dusty attic? Without me?”

“Please don’t talk about the room you rented us like that,” Ryuunosouke retorts, barely glancing up from his task. “Welcome back, Holmes-san.”

“Sherly!” Iris squeals and bounces to the self-proclaimed great detective, wrapping her short arms around his waist. “Welcome home! How did the case go?”

A jubilant laugh rings in the air. “Need you even ask, Iris?” Sherlock flicks his distinctive deerstalker with his index finger in triumph, a wide grin meeting Iris’s sparkling eyes. “Another case closed by the great detective Sherlock Holmes! We can rest easy about rent for the month.”

Is that really the sort of conversation you have with a child? Ryuunosuke does not say, but Iris, unperturbed, claps her hands together with equal delight.

“And now,” Sherlock continues, turning to survey the rest of them. “It’s my turn to ask again, just what you all are doing cooped up in this dingy, dusty, decrepit attic—Ah!” He holds a hand up to forestall the exasperated shape that Ryuunosuke’s mouth has formed, smiling slyly. “Allow me to make a deduction!”

“I was doing some origami,” Susato interrupts brightly without heed for the detective’s grandiose conduct, gesturing to the short lineup of small shapes on the table before her. “And Iris-sama was curious, so she allowed me to teach her the most classic design, a crane. And it turned out beautifully, Holmes-sama!”

In a rare occurrence, Sherlock’s depressive episode at the interruption of his deduction does not linger and he straightens immediately. Taking Iris’s crane up in his hand, he tilts his head, examining it from all angles. “As I recall, origami is the traditional Japanese art of folding paper into intricate designs, am I right?”

“Yes, that’s correct.” With a nod of satisfaction, Ryuunosuke places his own completed crane next to Susato’s skillfully folded pieces. There is only a mild twinge of disappointment in himself as he eyes his crane’s slightly uneven lines compared to Susato’s delicate work. “So you’ve heard of it, Holmes-san?”

“As expected of Holmes-sama!”

“What kind of great detective would I be if I didn’t know this much?” One hand returns the crane to Iris, the other lands in a pat on her head, making her giggle. “It might be news to you, but I know how to make a few things myself!”

Ryuunosuke’s eyes widen. “Really? Did someone teach you?”

“I suppose you could say that.” But to his surprise, Sherlock does not elaborate, and Ryuunosuke catches only a snatch of something faraway and fond in his eyes before the detective blinks and turns his gaze back on the scattered papers. “But I must say, the two of you work fast.”

Susato and Ryuunosuke blink in unison, looking down. There is a small pile of cranes sitting between them both, clearly flourishing in their absentmindedness. Ryuunosuke feels his ears grow hot, and he throws half a sheepish glance at Susato, who returns a soft laugh.

Iris leans over the pile, starry-eyed. She scoops a handful up and lets them fall from her hands, smiling as the cranes scatter back to the wooden floor like large snowflakes. “Hey, Susie? You said that the crane is the most classic design, but why’s that?”

“Oh!” Susato brings a finger to her chin, tapping in contemplation. “If I had to say… There is a type of crane native to Japan that is said to be a symbol of good fortune and longevity. These paper cranes are representations of it.”

Something stirs in the back of Ryuunosuke’s mind at Susato’s words—stories and laughter from a childhood that seem like from a lifetime ago. He sweeps a look over the cranes in a quick estimate. Certainly, not a number that any would call ‘few’, but at the same time, not nearly enough. “There’s a famous legend about paper cranes, too,” he finds himself saying, words from his memories filling his throat. “They say if you fold a thousand of them, you’ll be granted a wish.”

“A wish?” Iris echoes, her deep green eyes widening.

“Ah, that’s right!” Susato nods in agreement. “There are many variations to that legend as well. Some say that you must finish the thousand cranes within a certain period of time. Others say that it only works if one person folds them all by themselves. But the fact that there must be a thousand cranes is the one, absolute constant.”

A wistful sigh escapes Iris. “That’s such a nice story. Wishes, huh?”

“It is a nice story.” Ryuunosuke smiles, a little wryly. “When I was younger, everyone wanted to do it, and they’d try. But one thousand cranes is actually a lot more than you’d expect, as it turned out. Most children would get tired of it quickly.”

“Why don’t we give it a try?”

All eyes snap to Sherlock, who is still standing serenely, now with his pipe in his mouth. He smiles down at them with something beyond his usual frivolity. “You seem to be off to a good start, anyway,” he continues, eying the numerous cranes sprinkled across the floor. “With the four of us, one thousand doesn’t seem so far away, does it?”

“I want to do it!” Iris chimes in, nodding energetically. “It sounds like fun!”

Susato clasps her hands together, merriment dancing in her eyes. “It does sound like fun. I’m sure if we keep steadily at it, we’ll reach one thousand cranes in no time.”

One thousand paper cranes. He rolls the phrase around in his head, trying to visualize the end number. Not an impossible goal, by any means, but a question presses insistently forward. “I don’t mind,” Ryuunosuke starts, “…But who gets to make the wish?”

“Oh.”

The small sound of realization Iris makes is enough to make him feel ashamed of himself. “Not that it’s a bad idea or anything, not at all,” he hastily adds. “I mean, I’m just saying that according to the legend…”

“An excellent question, Mister Naruhodou!” Sherlock cuts in, unfazed as ever. He spins on the spot with a wink, a solution clearly on his tongue. “Why don’t we let the lucky person who folds the last crane make the wish? In any case, there’s still a while, is there not?”

Enthusiastic nods from Susato and Iris, a grin of satisfaction from the detective—not that it was ever an option, but how can he say no? “Well, let’s do our best, then.”

“Yay!” Iris skips to the table for more paper, beginning the folding process in quick, dainty motions, while Susato turns curiously to Sherlock.

“What would you wish for, Holmes-sama?”

Sherlock snaps his fingers. “A case from a rich client!” he announces dramatically, squaring his arms in the strange pose he makes when in high spirits.

Ryuunosuke tilts his head quizzically. “If you want money, why don’t you just wish for money?”

“Goodness, Mister Naruhodou.” Sherlock wags a finger in his direction, shaking his head as if the answer is obvious. “Do you think I take cases just for the money?”

“…”

“Stop looking at me like that. No! If the case is a worthy challenge to the intellect of the great detective Sherlock Holmes, then all the better! I didn’t make my fame by only taking cases based on how much I was paid, you know.”

Despite the lightness in Sherlock’s voice, the twinkling look in his eyes, the undercurrent of deliberate resolve is all genuine and Ryuunosuke cannot help but smile. “No, I didn’t think so.”

“And what about you, Iris-sama?” Noticing the younger girl’s progress, Susato presents her with more paper just as Iris folds down the head of a new crane. “Do you know what sort of wish you would make?”

Iris happily accepts the sheet, her expression bright with the possibilities tumbling through her mind. “There’s a lot of things I’d like to wish for! I’ll have to think it over.” But abruptly, her fingers slow in the middle of a fold, her gaze seeming to travel elsewhere.

“Iris-chan?”

“It should be for something important, shouldn’t it? The wish.” Her voice comes out subdued, solemn, as she continues to stare at the half-formed crane in her hands. “Something important like… being able to meet my papa soon.” The note of uncertainty makes something in Ryuunosouke’s chest twist.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he thinks he sees Sherlock tense.

“...I think,” he begins carefully, “you can wish for anything you want.” He thinks for a moment, and then nods, decisively. “That’s what wishes are. Whether or not you think it’s important, or whether or not you think it’ll be granted, all that matters is that it’s something you want, right?”

Only for a moment, he wonders who he’s really trying to convince.

“That’s right, Iris-sama,” Susato speaks now, resolutely. “Please don’t fret about it too much. If you find that you need another wish…” She gestures triumphantly to the still sizeable stack of papers they have gathered and deposited onto the table. “All we have to do is fold another thousand cranes!”

“…You’re right!” Just like that, Iris’s smile is back on her face, the shadow of doubt from moments ago nowhere in sight, and she and Susato giggle briefly at each other. Ryuunosuke marvels at the scene and hears a sigh of what might be relief from behind him. “What about you, Susie? What would you wish for?”

“Me?” For all her enthusiasm about folding cranes, the slightest thought of the end goal does not have appear to have crossed her mind. Susato tips her head into her chin, contemplative. “I… I don’t know. There’s nothing that I feel warrants something as grand as a wish—ah!”

He jumps slightly at her exclamation. “Did you think of something, Susato-san?”

“Yes, I think so.” Susato turns to look at him, and for some reason, her eyes seem very bright. “I would like to wish... for Naruhodou-sama to become the wonderful attorney he hopes to be.”

“Huh!?” The less than flattering sound leaps out as Ryuunosuke’s own eyes widen. “No, no, no, that’s- that’s not— I mean, shouldn’t you wish for something for yourself? I-I can’t possibly accept—”

“Do you truly think that it’s only for yourself?” There is fire in her gaze and steel in the words she returns as she stares at him, unwavering. “It’s something that I too desire, from the very bottom of my heart.” Her eyes travel downward, landing on the object at his hip, and soften. “Wish or not, I believe that it will happen. This is simply… asking for a little assistance.”

He has nothing to respond with but a meek nod, something hot building up in the corners of his eyes and an lump in his throat.

“Mister Naruhodou, do you need a handkerchief?”

“N-No!” Ryuunosuke scrubs briefly across his face with his sleeve, leveling a scowl the best he can at Sherlock before glancing back to Susato. “Susato-san... thank you. I’ll do my best to live up to your expectations.”

She only smiles at him again, an infinitely gentle expression. “What would your wish be, Naruhodou-sama?”

“A wish, huh…” He has pondered the question from the moment their shared goal was decided—but he is sincerely at a loss. “I… really don’t know. I guess I’ll think about it when we get close to the end.” A wish meant a desire, a hope.

A want.

…I wonder… if it would work…

He glances out the window, from where he can see sunlight spilling in and a few, fluffy clouds drifting lazily through a blue, blue sky. Sherlock may have called the attic ‘decrepit’, but bathed in a golden glow, there is not a sight more welcoming.

A warm breeze blows into the room, sending a few papers whirling.

...Probably not.

But he reaches for another sheet.

“…How are you doing? Are you surprised to see a letter this soon? Just after we left, I remembered a few things I forgot to tell you, so when the ship stopped at a port to resupply, I took the opportunity to send this.

You’re probably still getting used to London, aren’t you? I wanted to mention that there are some things left in my old room at Holmes-san’s place that you might find helpful, like books and stuff. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t take everything back to Japan with me, so if you’re up to it, you can go over to Baker Street sometime to take anything you’d like. In fact, it’d make me really happy if you got some use out of them…”

The sound of the horse carriage clattering noisily away is quickly replaced by that of his own heartbeat, pounding loudly in his chest. It seems silly that such apprehension should eat at him, compared to everything else that has happened, and for the life of him, he cannot find a logical rationale for it.

He takes a deep breath, lifts his hand, and knocks solidly on the door of apartment 221B.

Immediately, pattering footsteps race closer from the other side, and with a click the door swings open. Deep green eyes blink up inquisitively up at him, before they widen in recognition and delight. “It’s you! Come in, we’ve been expecting you!”

Asougi Kazuma inclines his head briefly, unable to stop the corners of his lips from turning up at the child’s enthusiastic greeting. “Good day, Miss Watson.” If the still-puzzling facsimile of her in court hadn’t been lively enough, she is a thousand times more spirited in person.

“Just Iris is fine,” she says cheerily, ushering him in. “Have a seat anywhere you’d like! My special herb tea is almost ready!”

“Ah-” he starts, “You don’t have to-…” But Iris has already vanished elsewhere into the depths of the apartment, presumably to the kitchen. Bemused, Asougi looks side to side, his gaze sweeping over the cluttered sitting room. Despite her encouragement, an assortment of strange contraptions litter every possible place to sit, and he does not particularly feel like carelessly engaging with them.

“Why, if it isn’t Mister Asougi!”

The airy voice from behind him sends a jolt down his spine and Asougi whirls, a hand automatically reaching for the saber at his side. In the next moment, his eyes land on the voice’s owner and he relaxes with a huff. “Detective Holmes.”

“There’s no need to be so wary.” Sherlock Holmes, sans his usual distinctive hat and overcoat, shrugs whimsically, appearing utterly unconcerned with Asougi’s instinctual reflex. “You’re our honored guest for today.”

He bows slightly. “Thank you for your invitation.” It’s not that he means to be curt, but cautious uncertainty still holds him in an iron grip—how should he react to the man who pulled the strings behind his interrupted first journey to London?

But Sherlock only beams, undaunted. “Think nothing of it. You’re Mister Naruhodou and Miss Susato’s dear friend, after all—how could we disappoint them in treating you otherwise? In fact,” He fishes a folded paper from his front pocket, waving it before Asougi. The scrawling handwriting from what he can see on the envelope is achingly familiar. “Mister Naruhodou explicitly requested us to look after you and lend you a hand where possible.”

“Naruhodou… he worries too much.” A wry smile escapes him nevertheless. “But I’m afraid I won’t be staying long. I’m only here to pick up some items Naruhodou left behind before I return to the prosecutors’ office.”

“Mister Naruhodou mentioned those as well.” Sherlock snaps his fingers in the direction of the stairs. “Take whatever you’d like! I told him anything left is fair game for my experiments.”

He bows a second time, turning away. “Excuse me, then.”

“Ah, just one moment, Mister Asougi!” Sherlock calls, striking a strange pose. “The bottom of the lowest shelf in the farther corner of the room. I suggest you take an especially close look.”

Asougi pauses with his foot on the first step, puzzled.

Sherlock winks at him, mischief and goodwill in equal measure. “I think you’ll find something very interesting there.”

The attic glows with midmorning light, exuding an atmosphere of welcome despite the clear lack of inhabitants. Asougi stops at the top of the staircase, letting his eyes wander from corner to corner and taking in every sight of the cozy, if slightly lonely space.

This is the room where his best friend stayed and learned and lived, in their year of separation.

The room is sparse now, but by no means empty—a number of packed boxes and heavy-looking hardcover books still line the shelves against the wall. When he runs a finger along the desk, only a few specks remain on his glove; someone has been up here to dust recently.

A soft splash from nearby catches his ear, and Asougi turns to see a small glass tank filled with water—and prawns, of all things. He peers dubiously into the tank, wondering what in the world possessed his friend to keep such tiny sea creatures. As far as prawns go, they seem quite healthy—not that he can tell. Perhaps Sherlock, or more likely Iris, cares for them now in Naruhodou’s absence.

There is a door at the end of a shallow recess that branches off from the attic, still bearing Mikotoba’s name. He smiles briefly at it before moving past to the shelves at last.

Naruhodou Law Consultation Office may be labeled at the entrance, but it is Mikotoba’s influence that is clear in the level of organization present. Boxes are neatly labeled and books sorted by subject in a way that is not quite believable of Naruhodou, as far as Asougi remembers. He sifts through them one by one, pulling out the files he deems useful and putting the rest carefully back with a mental word of pity for their eventual fate at the detective’s hands.

Although knowing Sherlock, the threat might have been made in nothing more than simple jest.

Speaking of the detective—Sherlock’s words from earlier float into his mind.

The lowest shelf in the corner, was it?

In that spot, there is another large box tucked away, unlabeled. When Asougi lifts it, the box feels surprisingly light for its size. He sets it on the table, raising the lid to set aside, curiosity prickling at the back of his neck.

The box is filled to the brim with strangely shaped paper.

…Cranes?

Asougi picks one up from the multitude, eying the crane as it sits inoffensively on his palm. Paper cranes. The classic shape of origami, a common pastime in Japan. He has not expected to see one an ocean away. And moreover, this many of them. There is only one explanation.

A thousand cranes…

There is not a child in Japan who has not heard the legend, and Asougi recalls it dimly in his own memory as well. A pretty, fanciful story of wishes and hope, but ultimately, nothing more.

Yet somehow, here in Naruhodou’s room, he is not surprised to see them at all.

A single square piece of unfolded paper he had missed at first glance flaps conspicuously from a corner of the box, and Asougi pulls it free.

His eyes widen as he turns it over and catches sight of his own name in familiar scrawls, messier than usual as if written in a haste.

“Asougi,

I folded these cranes with everyone here, although we didn’t get around to finishing the very last one.

But, I don’t think I need them anymore.

So if you’d like, if you want—…”

Vaguely, Asougi becomes aware of a quiet, choked up sound that is filling the attic. At the same time, breathing is strangely difficult.

Then he realizes—the laughter is coming from himself.

He presses a hand to his mouth, his friend’s note shuddering in the other. There is a bizarre obstruction in his throat that threatens to leave him gasping.

But in illogical contradiction, his heart feels lighter than ever.

Ahh, I have never been a match for you, Naruhodou.

When he makes his way back downstairs, Naruhodou’s note in his pocket and boxes balanced in his arms, Sherlock and Iris are there to greet him and grin knowingly at the look on his face. The fragrant smell of tea wafts warmly through the air.

“It’s still hard to believe we folded all these!” Iris says as she lifts the lid up to marvel once again at the collection of cranes.

“A nostalgic sight indeed,” Sherlock nods in agreement, puffing from his pipe. “Well? What do you intend to wish for, Mister Asougi?”

Asougi starts at the question. True, Naruhodou had indicated that the cranes be left to him, but if it had been a group effort as his friend mentioned, can he really accept them? “…Are you sure I can take them? After all, I didn’t help fold a single one.”

“We don’t need them!” Iris’s response is bright and immediate. She closes the box with a flourish, leveling a kind gaze at him. “Not anymore. Besides, if they said you should take the cranes, you should.”

“That’s right. It’s not as if I hoped you would gallantly proclaim that you needed no such thing and then I could wish for a rich client—”

“Now, now, Sherly, drink your tea.”

Asougi chuckles at their banter. “…Thank you.” But as he glances back to the box, thinking, an idea comes to mind. “Detective Holmes, Miss Iris, will you help me with something?”

They turn inquisitive expressions on him. “Hm?”

“Do you have string?”

The journey back to the prosecutors’ office is uneventful, and he spends most of it gazing aimlessly out the window of the carriage.

The box of cranes sits by his side, slightly emptier.

“String?” Iris echoes, her head tipping to the side in question.

“In Japan, it’s traditional to hang the thousand cranes in groups on string,” he explains. “It makes for easier organization, as well.”

It takes Iris little more incentive to hunt for the material, and the three of them begin the arduous task of threading the cranes together in sets.

“What about your work?” Iris asks, snipping another length of string.

He waves dismissively. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

At length, they finish the job, and Asougi silently marvels that there really were nine hundred and ninety-nine cranes stuffed in the box.

He turns and holds several strings of cranes out to them both. “You have my gratitude for taking care of Naruhodou and Assistant Mikotoba during their time in London. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

Iris takes the cranes, bundling them carefully in her arms, and smiles widely. “Come visit us any time!”

Sherlock places a hand on his hip, a playful, knowing look in his eyes. “Bring that gloomy reaper with you too, Mister Asougi.”

Barok van Zieks looks impassively up from his desk as Asougi enters the office, nudging the door open with his foot—his arms are otherwise occupied. “It’s unusual for you to be late without reason,” Barok remarks.

“My errand took longer than I thought,” Asougi replies shortly. “I’m prepared to make my work up in full.”

“Hm. No matter. There is little to do today, in any case.”

“Is that so?”

Brief, concise, void of unnecessary tangents. Their conversations have always been this way so far. The vast abyss of tangled, convoluted feelings that lie between them still runs deep, after all.

It is precisely for that reason that Asougi reaches into the box, scooping out a handful of the contents.

Without a word, he walks up to Barok’s desk, and scatters the cranes onto the tabletop.

For several entire seconds, silence falls over the room.

Barok’s gaze flickers from the pile of cranes on his desk back to Asougi. To Asougi’s pleasure, there is no mistaking the genuine bewilderment in the other prosecutor’s eyes—he has well and truly caught the man off-guard for once.

At last, Barok opens his mouth. “…Prosecutor Asougi. What exactly are these?”

He cannot help the grin that spreads across his face as he turns tail and strides purposefully out of the room with the rest of the box, laughter on his lips and satisfied amusement in his chest at the former reaper’s flummoxed expression. “Wishes, Prosecutor van Zieks.”

There are still many, many left to give.

A few more strings go to Inspector Gina Lestrade when he comes across her delivering a report. Her loyal companion sniffs playfully at Asougi’s boots while he places the cranes in her outstretched hands—a silent word of appreciation and apology all at once even as she accepts them skeptically.

She waves goodbye as she dashes into the prosecutors’ office, the cranes trailing in flight behind her and Toby at her heels.

The next name on the list Sherlock wrote for him is a woman by the name of Viridian Green, a woman he has never met—

But Naruhodou has.

And Asougi thinks, there will never be enough gratitude in the world to Naruhodou for all the lives he has touched.

The box has never been heavy, but there is a strange weight in the remainder of the contents despite the fact it should feel the exact opposite now.

When he arrives at the gates, the sunset burning at his back, his feet freeze in place. But if he should stop here, it will have all been for nothing.

He weaves lightly through the rows upon rows of marked stones—these are not what he is searching for. There would have been no inscription, no indication—not for a murderer. It is only by the allowance of the prosecutors’ office’s records that he knows where to go.

At last, he comes to a stop, his eyes fixed on the blank headstone before him. For a long while, he can only stare at it wordlessly, everything he has ever wanted to say suddenly, inexplicably lost in his throat.

So instead, Asougi takes a step forward, and lets the last of the cranes in his arms fall to the dirt on his father’s grave.

In the dimming light, the cranes seem to faintly glow.

It is much, much later, after he has pulled himself away, that he realizes Naruhodou’s note is still in his pocket. He brings it out, smoothing the creases, looking down at his friend’s messily inked words, and recalls how to smile.

He begins, by folding the paper in half.

A/N: Dedicated to Miryul for the many long hours we spent screaming over Asougi- I mean DGS2, haha. PLEASE LOOK AT HER ART IT'S SUPER BEAUTIFUL! (and be care of spoilers)

I also want to thank everyone for all the love towards my DGS fic from two years ago. I'm so glad Asougi's alive.

#dai gyakuten saiban #dgs spoilers #dgs2 spoilers #naruhodou ryuunosuke #asougi kazuma #mikotoba susato #iris watson #sherlock holmes #barok van zieks #_(:3 #I'M DEATH

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lemonpeter · 4 years

Text

Catch Me if You Can - Chapter 5

Sorry i havent done a lot in way of content this week. I've been kinda busy. But I'll be doing a couple of things for Valentine's day! Would anyone want to see a little Valentine's drabble from this au?

Tony couldn’t keep his mind away from Peter.

Laying in bed that night, all he could think about was the muscles he had seen. And he couldn’t stop thinking about the scrawny, sarcastic, genius that they were attached to.

He was fucked. Completely and totally fucked.

Only figuratively, of course. Parker didn’t want anything to do with him. And he was clearly very involved with the douche that had made him cry.

Ugh. Tony really hated feelings.

He turned over, burying his face in his pillow and letting out a frustrated groan. That helped him feel a little bit better. A little bit.

The rest of his night was spent with him trying, and failing, to stop thinking about perfect Peter Parker and what his stupid body looked like under those stupid adorable clothes of his.

***

Peter laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. He just couldn’t get his thoughts back on track.

The rest of dinner was...nice. Small talk was exchanged. School was discussed. Ben had embarrassed him greatly by asking Harley if they were using protection. Ha. As though they were getting that far. Harley just laughed it off, assuring his uncle that they were not to that point yet.

Secretly Peter hoped that they were broken up before they got that far. He didn’t want to deal with Harley continuing to use him without giving him pleasure in return. Maybe he would find the strength to just end the relationship before that point.

Right. Even in his head, he knew that wouldn’t happen.

He groaned quietly, closing his eyes. He knew he needed to do something about it.

He didn’t think that he could be a part of Harley’s barely-there feelings any more. Somehow, he needed to get out. Before it caused him to truly lose his mind.

***

However, he was right there, cuddled up to his boyfriend the next day at school.

He cursed himself for it. Where were all of his thoughts of getting away from the night before?

They seemed to have fucked off as soon as he saw Harley’s charming smile and the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Oh well.

At least Harley had thought about him enough to bring him breakfast.

So they sat at a table in the cafeteria, Peter slowly nibbling away at the bagel that he had been brought. It was soft but perfectly chewy, slathered in so much cream cheese that the bread itself seemed to drown. Just how he liked it. “Thank you, Harles,” he murmured, a small smile on his face.

Harley draped an arm over the boy, kissing the corner of his lip and playfully licking a stray glob of cheese from the spot. “You’re welcome. Mom gave me some extra money this morning, so I figured I could get my boy something. I know you don’t tend to eat breakfast most mornings.”

Peter didn’t mention the fact that he had already eaten about half a loaf in bread of toast plus jam that morning. His appetite seemed to have doubled. “Well, I appreciate it. A lot. I was so hungry.”

Smiling Harley pulled him closer. “Well, eat up. We need to get to class soon.”

“Yeah. And I’m supposed to have a test today. Can’t let Tony get there before me,” he commented, finishing the second half of his bagel.

Harley made a face. “Is that about that stupid rivalry thing? Pete, I don’t understand why you do that. You don’t need to prove anything to him.”

Peter shrugged. “I mean, yeah, I know. But...it’s fun, y’know? I like doing it.”

“I think it’s stupid. You waste so much time doing that. There are so many better things you could be doing with the time you spend working your ass off studying to compete with him.” He sighed. “I love you. You know I do. But he’s a literal genius, Pete. I’m not sure you can really beat that.”

Peter frowned, looking at him. “Harley, I’m smarter than you think. I can do this. And I can beat him. I know I can. This thing is just...for fun.”

The other boy rolled his eyes. “Right. Fun. Because it seems like you’re just showing off for him time after time. And you’re going to end up making yourself look stupid.”

Peter went silent, chewing his lip. He wasn’t showing off for Tony. Right? He didn’t like that he wasn’t sure. But he really did have fun with the competition. He liked being able to show off how smart he knew he was. But it wasn’t to make Tony notice him. Not at all.

Was it?

“I need to get to class,” he said, standing up. “Thank you for breakfast, it was really good.” He quickly kissed his boyfriend’s cheek, grabbing his backpack and walking away.

Harley shrugged, not trying to stop him from leaving.

Peter walked all the way to his class, distracted. He really wasn’t sure if he had just been doing all of it to get Tony’s attention. It had seemed to him like he was just doing it because he liked to prove that he was best, no matter how cocky that sounded. But the competition was just fun to him. Yet...maybe Harley was onto something.

Since he wasn’t paying attention, Peter crashed into Tony right before they both walked into the class.

“Shit! Oh god, I’m sorry…” Peter apologized, rubbing his shoulder. “Wasn’t really paying attention to my surroundings…”

Tony looked at him, shaking his head. “No, it’s alright. Don’t...don’t worry about it. I wasn’t looking either.” He laughed a little, raking a hand through his hair. “Uh, after you.”

Face flushing lightly, Peter slowly stepped into the room ahead of Tony. “Thank you. I’m sorry. Again. Sorry if I hurt you.”

“Parker, you weigh like a hundred pounds. What would you be able to hurt me with?” Tony teased, rubbing the spot on his chest that Peter had run into. It had actually hurt, but he didn’t want Peter to feel bad.

“I’m still sorry.” Peter made his way to his seat, looking at Tony. He couldn’t help but smile a little bit. He didn’t even try to stop himself.

Tony smiled back before glancing away. “I know I’m hot, but god, stop staring into my eyes, Parker,” he joked. He had to look away, because if he didn’t, he knew it would be so easy to get lost in those perfect chocolate eyes. “We’re supposed to be enemies here.”

Peter’s face went a slightly darker pink color. “Are we?” He asked softly, barely audible.

Tony pretended not to hear him, looking to the front of the room as more people filed in. “Time to start another day. Hope you’re ready.”

Peter wasn’t sure how ready he was anymore.

#starker #peter parker #tony stark #tony x peter #starker fic #peter x tony #harley keener #peter x harley #harley x peter #parkner #keenker #starker hs au #hs au #catch me if you can #i think this is all the tags #might add more if i remember them

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