Summary:A sudden sitting job makes a turn for a surprise when there’s a promotion for the newest Spiderman: Homecoming movie at your kid’s school with the whole cast. Including Tom Holland himself.
A/N:The rare moments of inspiration… comes after midnight. Gsus guys it’s like 2AM here. I thought of this idea for a Tom Holland one shot, because of my history (adventures) in babysitting and being in the States for one and a half years. Oh and also the adorable interview with Tom and a kid gave me something extra to write with. And I KNOW this is supposed to be an Uncharted (more gaming) kind of blog, but I don’t care at the moment. Warned you guys this was going to happen sooner or later…
a/n: a short little something bc it’s “choose your own ship” day for the d2 countdown, and there is not nearly enough fic about these boys.
ben isn’t quite sure why, but since returning home to auradon, he’s been haunted by the memories of being on the isle. not just the torture of his own kidnapping, but everything else - kids dressed in ratty clothes, eating garbage while sitting out in the streets, too scared to spend their time at home with their abusive parents.
those sights shake ben to the core, sending him tossing and turning every night, waking up with tears streaming down his face more often than not.
“shh,” someone says as they lie next to him, gently running a hand through his hair to calm his shaking. “it’s alright, love. you’re safe now.”
“those kids aren’t,” ben says back, blinking up at green eyes in the darkness. “they’re dirty and starving and in pain–”
“then bring ‘em here,” his companion says. “you have the power to do that, you know. after all, it’s what brought us here.” ben smiles slightly.
“thanks, harry,” he says. “you always know the right thing to say.” harry smiles back, ruffling ben’s hair, causing him to giggle softly. the comfortable silence that falls over the two is cut off by a loud snore coming from behind ben.
“oi, gilly,” harry says, reaching across ben to slap the third boy on the arm. “keep it down, will ya? we’re trying to have a nice conversation here.” gil only grumbles in response and turns over. ben just snorts, his previous emotional pain now momentarily forgotten.
i learned that, even at hospitals, I can be broken down into pieces on the floor. they can hold me down when I haven’t done a thing, let me scream until my voice is hoarse and withered and one word from caving in. i can be touched anywhere. i’m not special in the least.
rose quartz litters my desk. i read somewhere that it’s good for trauma, and god knows i’ve had enough for this lifetime. it turns my surroundings into a safe haven where only something evil could penetrate my field. or if somehow my lifeline fell. (which could happen. it’s only a certain pill.) i’m as safe as i’ll ever be here, and with this knowledge i start to type again.
my sewing machine is back on its pedestal. i’ve been working on the same project for a month now, but it took me two years to gather up the courage to touch it again. if i didn’t have to stand up straight and use my mind to work it, perhaps my parents (and therapists, siblings, friends, etc.) would be begging me to stop using it so much. it’s hardly used. but more so than before.
the nighttime doesn’t seem so scary now. i get tired early and project all of my malicious thoughts into my dreams, which i no longer remember when i wake. i’ve left these places while screaming twice now, but they aren’t a reality anymore. it’s a dark world over there but it’s better to see at night.
i don’t know if this is getting better. all i’m doing is accepting the fact that suicide and hospitalization isn’t the way to get out of life anymore – it never was.