Trauma, at this point, spends so much time at Frank and Parker’s apartments that having his own is almost redundant, but whatever. He happened to be hanging out with Frank today and, after some chatting, Trauma suddenly asks: “Hey, so... can you show me how to find merc jobs besides stuff for Parker’s gang? I like helping him out, but it’s... kinda weird to date my boss.”

      So he headed to Times Square and stood there, waiting for a fear pronounced enough to make his body shift, then just went with it. Once he turned into one person’s fear and they screamed, people started panicking, fueling the shift so his body grew and distorted, incorporating more and more fears into one monstrous creature, lashing out at random, attacking anyone who didn’t happen to get out of the way fast enough.

“You can stand on your toes, cause I don’t wanna always lean down for a kiss.”

“Eight,” he answers. It’s an uncomfortable question, one he really would rather not answer. “Sure I did. Constrictor... He was good to me. Treated me like I was a man instead of some animal. Took care of me. Tried to help me, even when he didn’t fully understand what was going on with me. I would’ve tried, if he had wanted it. Way I was back then, I would’ve failed, but I would’ve tried.”

let it be known that, in fact, i don’t have any paste pot pete headcanons

Then part three! He finds government secrets with his powers by accident, which very much upsets the government, who spirit him away to do a vague yet menacing government agency place and force him into working for them, which is the present-day for the blog (he’s in his 40s or 50s by this point).

i kinkshame ur kinkshame of me

this callout