#give this man some brown contacts STAT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whoacanada · 4 years

Text

Zimmerbro AU

Summary: Andrew Phillip Rowe could skate before he could walk, and it wasn’t until he was almost twenty and well on his way to becoming a Las Vegas Ace before he knew why.

a/n: that’s right we’ve got a secret zimmermann brother au based on the fact that Bob was an active pro athlete for almost 15 years before Jack was born and almost definitely had relationships before Alicia. This particular one resulted in a secret love child.

When the call finally went out that year — a request for players willing to billet the incoming draftees — Andrew had been the first in line.

His already sparsely decorated guest room had been primed for a new tenant since he’d learned Las Vegas’ abysmal season had earned them the first pick of the 2009 draft. In his mind, Andrew had envisioned a tearful confession. A family reunion nineteen years in the making where he’d finally get a chance to connect with a half-brother he’d grown up learning about through news articles and stats pages.

He wasn’t ready for Jack to pull out of the draft days before the ceremony; wasn’t ready for the claims of an overdose or speculation about suicide attempts. He certainly wasn’t expecting to have to open his home to a young man with limp blonde hair and deep circles under his eyes with the same enthusiasm he’d promised he’d offer to a son of Bob Zimmermann.

Andrew was hoping for a little brother.

He got Kent Parson instead.

______

“You remind me of my boyfriend.” Kent slurs one night, completely gone on Johnny Walker Blue borrowed from Andrew’s wet bar. “It’s your . . . face.”

“Shouldn’t talk about things like that,” Andrew cautions gently, covering his own surprise. “Never know who might be listening.”

“Who fucking cares? He won’t talk to me,” Kent continues, ignoring him and sniffing like he’s on the verge of sobbing or puking, both options equally unwanted. “They wouldn’t tell me if he was even alive.”

Another unwanted puzzle piece locks into place.

“Jack?” Andrew suggests softly, and Kent begins to cry.

“You won’t tell right?”

Andrew shakes his head no, long enough for Kent’s bleary eyes to focus on the gesture and take it seriously.

Things are different, after that conversation. Not worse, or better, just different.

________

“He’s my brother.”

Andrew admits this one night, for no reason other than that he can.

Kent is across the room, backlit by lights from the Strip, his legs dangling off the arm of his favorite couch as he scrolls through his phone looking for distractions. Parse hasn’t lived with Andrew for almost two seasons, but he still turns up like a bad penny whenever he needs to commiserate with someone who knows his more lascivious secrets. Truthfully, Andrew’s grateful for the company. He’s a pretty genial guy, but he’s always kept his distance, a personality trait he likes to think he shares with an unassuming sibling, but there’s no way to know for sure. The farther Andrew gets from the 2009 Draft, the less faith he has in a reunion that won’t just bring crippling sorrow to everyone involved.

A secret Zimmermann son who actually made it in the NHL. Who has his name on the Stanley Cup, not once, but twice, largely thanks to the spitfire forward lounging in Andrew’s living room.

“Who’s your brother?” Kent asks, not looking up from his phone.

“Jack Zimmermann.”

Kent barks a laugh and rolls his head lazily to smirk at Andrew.

“That’s funny. I guess you kinda have the same chin. Was Marky digging for chirps?”

Andrew has no idea what that means, but he sets down his tablet and says, “No, he’s actually my half-brother. My mom dated Bad Bob in ’84 and got pregnant.”

The lackadaisical smile on Kent’s face falters as his gaze sharpens, like he’s actually looking at Andrew for the first time. Andrew responds by gesturing at himself lamely.

“That’s not funny.”

“No.” Andrew agrees. “It isn’t.”

Kent swings his feet down off the couch and braces himself against the overstuffed leather. He doesn’t look mad, but there’s something too close to disbelief for Andrew to convince himself everything’s okay. It takes a moment, but Kent must find what he’s looking for on Andrew’s face.

“Does Bob know?” Kent asks with that familiar overfamiliarity, as if they both still have some personal relationship with the living legend.

“Yeah. When Mom got pregnant she told him she didn’t want the attention since it was only a fling — ”

“Who the fuck doesn’t lock down Bob Zimmermann?” Kent breathes. “Also, why the fuck did she tell you that?”

“No shit, right? She got him to sign away parental rights, set up a trust, never spoke to him again as far as I know. I didn’t find out until after I signed with the Aces. She didn’t want me to get blindsided if it all came out, but the story never broke.”

“I mean, does Bob know who you are?” Kent questions. “Does Jack?”

Andrew shakes his head no, because he doesn’t think so, and Kent flops back against the cushions, face slack with disbelief; it doesn’t take long for his features to shift to anger.

“You knew this whole time and you didn’t tell me? Even after I told you —“

“Okay, there’s a whole-ass difference between you fucking dudes and and me being ‘Bad Bob’s bastard’,” Andrew bites, curtailing Kent’s imminent hissy fit. Appropriately, Kent closes his mouth, almost pouting.

“Fine. But that’s fucked.” Kent says after a loaded moment of silence. “I’m sorry you’re . . . you.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry you’re you, too.”

“You know Jack’s signing with the Falconers, right?” Kent offers like the worst kind of olive branch, unintentionally telling Andrew exactly what he was up to during that stretch of time between New England games a few months prior. “It’s not public but it’s happening. Ink’s dry.”

“I know. That’s why I told you. It’s gonna be weird,” Andrew swallows, thinking about playing Providence in the coming months.

“Fucking right it’s weird.”

_________

For the most part, the Las Vegas Aces are decent, stand up guys. Even with the accusations of gambling debts and mob connections with the ownership group, Andrew’s never been asked to hit a certain player a little too hard, or to take a dive so the other team gets a shot at a power play. A lot of talk, a lot of conspiracies, ‘Typical Aces hockey’, but there’s no malice. Not really.

Andrew thinks it’s hilarious he plays the game a lot like his estranged father, but he’s not a legend in the making, hell, at this point he’s barely regarded as more than a mid-level, reliable center that can bring home 40 points a season.

Carly whips behind Zimmermann’s back to clip his skate with a stick, dropping a ill advised chirp that sets every player in earshot on edge. Parse is close enough to catch the quiet slur, stiffening like he’s been hit, and Andrew watches Zimmermann recover quickly, steely and resolute.

Jack has his mother’s eyes — not the warm brown Andrew catches every time he looks in the mirror.

“He’s a fucking goon,” Andrew breathes, gliding up to Jack’s shoulder in lieu of an apology. Zimmermann doesn’t miss a beat, his gaze flicking to Andrew with the quiet rage of ‘who gives a fuck’. Andrew admires his commitment to the game. Coming back after so much, after so long, to willingly subject himself to the same kind of treatment that Andrew knows likely led to his original fall from grace.

“Hey,” Kent ducks his head as he slides up a little while later, mouthguard clenched between his teeth, and asks, “You see his twink?”

At Andrew’s obvious confusion, Kent jerks his head toward the glass behind the Falconers’ bench, to a raucous group of fans all sporting fresh Zimmermann jerseys. Andrew’s gaze drifts along the row of faces, lingering longer on the familiar, handsome couple beside the blonde young man. He may be imagining things — the stadium lights catching a bad angle — but for the briefest moment, Andrew holds eye contact with his father.

“He’s cute, right?” Kent says bitterly, like he doesn’t have a partner of his own back home.

“Yeah, he is. You gonna do anything about the slurs, Captain?” Andrew counters, earning a stern look from Parson.

“I’ll deal with Carly.”

“Oh, you will? Because I’ve never seen you shut him down before.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Kent’s expression goes stormy, and he gives Andrew a hard shove before skating off to set up for the next shift. To his credit, he does grab Carly by the arm and tell him something that earns a look of displeasure from the larger man, but Andrew knows a verbal warning won’t curtail someone as dead-set in his conservatism as Carly.

The next play, Carly flashes Andrew a toothy smile over the lineman’s shoulder, as if they’re in on the same joke, and his vision goes red.

__________

“Bad Bob’s outside,” Scraps rasps, like whatever brief interaction he’s just had has physically winded him. “He wants to talk to Flip.”

Andrew blinks up from the water bottle in his hands, previously concerned with the pink-stained gauze wrapped around his knuckles. A few of the guys start chirping, but most of them remain silent, still processing the fact that Andrew assaulted one of their own without clear motivation, in defense of an opponent.

“That’s what this was all about? You gunning for a trade?” Sorenson spits from his stall. “Needed to impress Bad Bob by beating the snot out of Carly?”

“Maybe I am,” Andrew sighs, pushing himself to his feet, wincing at the way his jaw aches from the few good hits Carly had managed to squeeze in before he went down. “What the fuck are you gonna do about it.”

_______

Andrew’s grateful he kept his skates on. He needs the boost of confidence that comes with the added height, especially when he finds Bob Zimmermann waiting patiently in the corridor like he’s just another staff member and not the second most recognizable figure in modern hockey.

“Hey kid,” Bob greets, casting an approving, overly-familiar eye over Andrew’s padded bulk and sweat-slick hair. “You can throw a hell of a punch. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy beat the piss out of a teammate before. Off ice, sure, but never during a game.”

His accent is just as thick in private as every interview Andrew’s ever caught live — but his tone is unexpectedly warm, even grateful — when Bob laughs at his own recounting of Andrew’s assault attempt, the sound is light and joyous like nothing in the world comes easier to this titan of a man.

Andrew wonders if Bob can recognize the chin they share beneath a his playoff beard; if there’s any resemblance left in a nose that’s been reset a half-dozen times.

Andrew grew up loved and never wanted for anything. His step-fathers, both of them, had been good men who never left him looking for a father figure. It wasn’t until his twenties that Andrew even realized there was hole where his bio-dad should have been, and not just a regular hole, a yawning sinkhole threatening to devour his entire sense of self, because his biological father turned out to be a man he grew up idolizing as a personal hero.

He’s not mad at his mother, but when Andrew struggles to find his voice — which is bullshit seeing as he’s almost thirty-five and a god-damned professional athlete — he can’t stop himself from feeling like a misplaced child.

“Do you,” Andrew swallows, looking over Bob’s shoulder to see if anyone’s watching them. Finding they’re alone, he rallies quietly, “Do you know who I am?”

Bob’s jovial expression softens into something remorseful, but unfathomably kind. “I do, buddy,” he acknowledges, somehow squeezing three decades of affection into one term of endearment. “I’ve known for some time, now. The whole time, actually.”

That hurts more than expected.

“Does your wife? Does Jack?”

Bob shakes his head, but it isn’t a hard no.

“Alicia knows, and Jack has some idea he’s got a half-brother, but it’s all in the abstract. No specifics. Definitely doesn’t know you play. I wanted to respect your privacy and your mother’s wishes. She let me know she’d told you the truth a few years back and I wanted to give you the space you needed if you decided to reach out. When you didn’t, well, a man makes assumptions.”

Andrew looks down at the concrete beneath his skates and sniffs hard, fighting nasal drip from the smelling salts he’d needed in the third period; or, at least, that’s what he tells himself. “I had a plan, back when — ” he stops himself, looking down at his skates. Bob’s eyebrows lift in curiosity, leaving room for Andrew to gather his thoughts, but he doesn’t take the bait, unable to bring up what could have been just yet. Bob seems to grasp the context after the moment.

“2009,” he acknowledges softly. “Hell of a year.”

“Yeah. It was. Is he okay?”

“What, Jack? He’s leagues ahead of where he was then —”

“No, I mean, tonight. Carly clipped him pretty hard before I got in there.”

“Oh, a little bruised up, but he’ll live. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Okay.”

Andrew looks down at his bandaged fist and realizes he’s completely forgotten how gnarly his face must look.

“Trainer says I’m alright, but I’m gonna get leveled with a wicked fine, I know it.”

“Was it worth it?” There’s a look of guilty pride on Bob’s face, like the man’s enjoying himself a little too much when he leans in and whispers, “You just did something I’ve wanted to do since Jack was in mites. Fucking lay out one of those fuckers that’s got nothing better to do than bitch because they can’t play,” there’s a moment of hesitation, as if he’s worried about pushing a boundary, before he adds, “How’d it feel to look out for your little brother?”

Pride, it turns out, in contagious, and Andrew feels like he could go back on the ice and do it all over again. “Pretty fucking great,” Andrew can’t help a smile, wincing when the gesture pulls at his split lip.

Bob slaps a hand on Andrew’s shoulder pads, then gets a grip on the back of his head, heedless of his sweaty hair.

“Crisse, you’re a fuckin’ beaut, kid. I’ve wanted to tell you that for years.”

Andrew can’t blame the smelling salts anymore.

__________

Jack clearly doesn’t see his father standing there with red-rimmed eyes, or Andrew in an equally unkempt state, and has no reason to think anything untoward has happened when he offers a handshake and pulls Andrew into a hug, bouncing his free fist off the back of Andrew’s pads. “I owe you a drink,” Jack says decisively when he pulls back, shooting a grin between his father and Andrew. “Can’t believe you did that.”

“More than a drink, I think,” the blonde guy Andrew saw behind the bench pipes up. Jack’s ‘twink’. Boyfriend. Whatever. “Dinner at least.”

“A pie,” Bob suggests tightly, keeping his voice even as he turns to quickly scrub his fist over his eyes. Andrew recognizes the statuesque woman who strides up beside Bob, and one quick look tells him she definitely knows who he is.

“Hello, Andrew,” Alicia greets softly, genuinely. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” he says, the tightness in his throat coming out as gruffness rather than emotion. “This is great, but I should go shower and, uh, it was nice meeting you all.”

Bob’s hand whips out and fists the sleeve of Andrew’s sweater, keeping him in place.

“You have plans tonight?”

Andrew debates lying, because he doesn’t know how to move forward from this point, but they’re all looking at him. Waiting. Expectant. There’s too much at stake, and yet somehow — A sharp whistle drags Andrew’s attention back to the locker room. Kent is peeking his head out, and god knows how long he’s been eavesdropping.

“Yo, Zimmermanns. Bittle.”

“Parson.” The blonde says curtly, earning a wry smirk from Kent.

“Flip, we got a presser if you feel like putting a bow on the evening,” Kent’s gaze drifts to Bob’s flushed face, and he adds, “Or, you can shower and slip out the loading bay while I cover for your aggro ass because this is not going to be fun. Your call.”

Andrew looks at the small family surrounding him, his family, and says, “I don’t want to explain.” Kent shrugs and ducks back inside while Bob’s brow furrows in confusion. “I can do dinner, but I don’t want to,” Andrew holds his hands out in front of him, trying to gesture what he means, and Bob snaps his fingers in understanding.

“Ah, ha, I got you, kid.”

“Neat. I’m gonna go shower.”

“We will be here when you’re ready,” Alicia offers. “Take your time.”

“Oh, I will,” Andrew replies before he can stop himself, cringing the second his back is turned because what the fuck could he be any more awkward?

Time will tell.

_____________

#zimbits #jack / bitty #omgcp #check please #my fic #my stuff #lost zimmermann brother au #bob's got another kid and I named him andrew again!#kent is not a bad guy #only carly is a bad guy and we hate him #long post #because it's a mini fic!

377 notes · View notes

firefighterxefe · 2 years

Photo

Efetobo “Efe” Umukoro - 33 - Human

F I R E B I R D

“You may fail, but fall still fighting; Don’t give up, whate’er you do; Eyes front, head high to the finish. See it through!”

Below the cut is some quick background on Efe. His full biography goes into a little more detail, but please feel free to hit me up any time with ideas or plots!

TW: Fire; Arson; Memory Loss/Amnesia; Death

I. Basics

Name: Efetobo “Efe” Umukoro Gender/Pro-Nouns: Cisgender Male (He/Him/His) Birthday & Age: January 22, 1989 (33) Place of Birth: Lunar Cove, RI Species: Human Current residence: Celestial Hills Occupation: Firefighter Faceclaim: Okieriete Onaodowan Sexuality: Bisexual

II. Stats

Height: 6′0″ Eyes: Brown Hair: Black MBTI: ESFJ Alignment: Lawful Good Affiliations: None

III. Background

The oldest of four children and the only brother to three younger sisters, Efe Umukoro was born to two mortal doctors: a surgeon and an emergency physician employed at Shadow Lake Hospital, both of whom came to town as if pulled there to fill a need for skilled medical personnel. The Doctors Umukoro were active, public, and well-regarded members of the Coalition of Non-Supernaturals, and Efe grew up under their watchful gazes.

In truth, he was an all-around “good kid,” a young man who did well in school, enjoyed popularity among his peers, and excelled at sports. From a young age, he demonstrated a fiercely protective streak, inherited from his father, a quirk of his personality that made him stand up to bullies and rescue small animals from danger. In school, he was often chosen to play liaison and role model to new arrivals and kids in need of a friend.

A shift occurred when Efe entered high school. Along with the regular perils of teenage life, his classmates were, for the first time, growing into themselves. Witches were discovering their inherent abilities. The Fae were testing the limits of their supernatural speed. And one particular werewolf, with whom Efe himself had once been rather close, accidentally and tragically triggered his latent gene. As terrible as the stench of death was, though, the boy soon took advantage of his increased stamina and strength and “stole” Efe’s spot on the wrestling team. And for the first time, Efe felt that he was struggling to keep up with the people among whom he had grown up.

Although he never let bitterness or genuine disdain for his humanity take root in his heart, Efe nevertheless did tend to struggle in this transitional period. He still played football, although he tended to suffer the bench in favor of more magical teammates. He took up bowling and was really quite good at it. But his grades, for the first time, began to slip, and while he never failed, his parents did begin to tighten their already strong grip on him.

As he neared the end of high school, Efe, under their suggestion, began volunteering at the hospital. This whole endeavor was largely an effort to get him to truly consider premed programs during the college admission period, but Efe himself was not entirely keen on the thought of following in his mother and father’s footsteps.

On the walk home one night, he watched the local fire brigade extinguish a burning abandoned building, and the taste of the evening’s adrenaline would guide Efe’s future. He was rejected from his father’s alma mater and thus decided to take a year off school to refocus himself. It was then that he joined the volunteer fire department of Lunar Cove.

On the job, Efe came into contact with the witch Reese Hawthorne, whom he caught in the act of starting one of the small blazes plaguing Shadow Lake. He was not believed when he reported it, his parents less than keen on crossing the coven and his colleagues more interested in the action the mystery arsonist was providing.

This began a strange, passionate dance, however, where Efe showed up, like clockwork, to quell Reese’s flames. Mutual flirting blossomed into something more and eventually a genuine relationship. Efe was attracted to the allure of danger, to Reese’s strength, to this opportunity to finally let down his guard and throw away the rules.

And to that end, the pair were married within a year, with the initial disapproval of Efe’s parents. Still, like proper newlyweds, the couple moved into a house of their own and raised up a puppy named Badger. But Efe was perhaps under the impression that, now that all the fireworks were out of their systems, they would properly settle down. They had never actually discussed children, and this sticking point led to their divorce, amicable as it could be, a few years later.

Efe left Lunar Cove, not out of anger, but perhaps sadness or regret, a wish that he had been less young and less foolish. Upon passing through the mirage, he forgot the true nature of his hometown and went on to build a mortal life in Chicago.

As a career firefighter, with a proper apartment in the city and a new relationship, he recently earned an award for bravery, a well-publicized event. His family, however, refused to visit Illinois to attend the ceremony.

Irritated, Efe has returned home for the first time in many years to confront them. Passing through the border again, everything has returned, and he is starkly aware of the choice he must make about which of his two lives to keep leading.

IV: Possible Connections

Efe is open to any and all plots and connections, but below are some potential ideas to kick off brainstorming.

The Neighbor: Efe is staying with his parents in Celestial Hills, sleeping in a twin bed he has long outgrown. Did this person live near him when he was growing up, or are they new in-town?

The Old Friend: Efe grew up in Lunar Cove and is returning for the first time in about a decade. Who did he leave behind, and how do they feel now that he is back?

The Former Rival: Efe struggled with feelings of utter averageness in high school, when he could no longer compete with the supernatural gifts of those around him. Did these two clash back in the day?

The Bad Influence: Efe is an all-around upstanding sort of citizen, but this homecoming is causing a slew of unfulfilled feelings to boil over. How might this person make him let them out in less than healthy ways?

The Fellow Human: Efe feels exceptional outside of Lunar Cove and utterly boring within its confines. Are you a fellow human-being also in need of a bro to remind you that you’re a badass, especially when everyone around you can do magic and fly?

The Dog Buddy: Efe kept the dog in the divorce. Badger is a gentle giant, a large Pit/Lab mix who is overeager to play. Does your muse have a lovable dog in their life in need of a friend?

#lunarintro #about #intro #tw fire #fire tw #arson tw #tw arson #amnesia tw #tw amnesia #death tw #tw death #memory loss tw #tw memory loss

3 notes · View notes

xoxo-nikki-xoxo · 4 years

Text

Leverage

Elijah Mikaelson x Arabella Castaway-Mikaelson

Authors note: Okay everyone after much planning and thinking I have come up with my own OC! I can’t wait for us to take this journey together learning about Arabella, like who she is, and how she came to be. Do not be afraid to send in asks about her either!

Word count: 2.4K

Somewhat based off of season 3 of the originals. I also joined the calibration for Dom’s 2 years bioversary. This fic is about sire bonds more importantly them being broken.

@xxwritemeastoryxx

———————————

Being involved in The Original family comes with its up and downs. Especially when it has caused the love of your life to pick his family over well his wife. That was about well two months ago, sense then I have not seen Elijah Mikaelson or his family. It is nothing I can blame them for though, the sad thing is I do not even remember who they are! In fact, it is the vampires I come across on during my travels that bring up The Original family. Usually it goes around the lines someone asking me where they are. From my gathering of these conversations I was married to the one they call honorable, the noble brother, Elijah. It never has set well with me though that my so called “husband” has abandoned me. If we are married is not that meant to be forever, that’s the whole point of getting married is not. Asking to many questions is what got me in this predicament, see what I do remember is my whole life. I remember the life I had New Orleans, the fashion the cooking all of it. So, if I was married to someone back then why is there no piecing pieces? I barley know anything about this so-called original family, yet their presentence lingers over my body like a shadow. Too afraid to come and say hello, but it’s like every step I take it’s as though I’m being watched.

“Well if it isn’t the myth, the legend Arabella…. how did you find her? Elijah never mentioned why she left or where she went to in the first place” A male’s voice, it was deep with the hint of smoothness. I have no clue what happened, I just remember being at a local cafe in France then my neck was snapped. It went black for a while after that.

“Well we have our ways of getting what we need. When it comes to the leverage we need, this will be perfect. He’ll do anything it takes to keep his precious wife safe… And that well be the way we lure both him and his brother here, so my witches can perform this spell.” it’s a women’s voice, even though I don’t understand what she talking about I don’t want anything to do with it. “I’ll be back later with the items that Davina needs to finish the spell. Be prepared Marcellus, the strixs are all prepared for this battle tonight.” I can hear her shoes click as she walks away from us.

“Davina! Help me take these ropes off her. I can’t touch them, there soaked in vervain. She doesn’t deserve to be in the middle of this. Aya’s only using her to lure Elijah and Klaus here” the man’s voice I can hear must be Marcellus, whoever he is.

“She won’t die today Marcel… she needs to be here to lure Elijah and Klaus here. When they get here, it’ll be easy one of the other witches knock them out.” Davina say as she unties the ropes that are wrapped around my arms and legs. ” she’s safe here Marcel you can leave. When the spell starts you might feel a little warmth, it’ll pass though once the link it gone.” the girl says, and as she says it the blind fold over my eyes gets taken off and so does the duct tape.

“What if this warmth is the last thing I feel”

“I’ll be careful”

“I get that Davina and I’m game. But we are on a tight rope with the Mikaelson’s right now. Jackson was a friend to them and us. On top of that we have Arabella too”

“I know Marcel. And I know it’s a long shot, but if I can’t save you, and I can’t save Josh, even Arabella, then I can’t save Kol. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you guys.” Davina says as she takes of the last of the ropes from my body.

When I open my eyes the man’s gone and the only thing in front of me is a girl looking at me. “You can’t leave, I put up a boundary spell around you… It’s for your protection Bella” The sweet looking girl says to me as she watches me over

“How do you know me?” I asked

“It’s a long story, just know that you’re my friend… I’m Davina, and that guy that was here a couple seconds ago his name is Marcel.” Davina says turning back to the papers that are hanging on the wall.

“Well it seems like everyone here already knows who I am, so tell me Davina. What is that spell for?”

———-Switch to Elijah———

“And now Aya and her mob of are free to break the sire line. You know, we have made many glorious enemies over the years, brother, but If they sever the link to us, then they well all come for our heads.” Klaus speaks as both of us walk side by side toward the entrance of the compound. This is the very reason why I sent her away, I knew this prophecy was going to be a blood bath. I didn’t need for her to get in the way.

“Not without the white oak brother” I say in a soothing voice as Niklaus stops Infront of me

“Aurora has the last of it” I can the thought swirling in his head, with a smirk forming on my lips I simply say

“Then she dies first”

“You once told me you wanted to use her head as a footstool” titling his head to the side he finished with “why wait”

That’s when my phone vibrates in my coat pocket. I pull it out answering

“Marcel?”

“how”

“Yes, I see” *hangs up the phone*

My face drops looking at Klaus “I don’t know how, but Aya found Arabella. The crescent wolves were able to locate where they are keeping her” I say looking right at Klaus

“Well then let’s get going”

—— back to Arabella—-

“Where is she Aya? Unlike my brother I don’t have the patience to deal with this” the voice is raspy thick sounding as I hear multiple footsteps approaching us.

“Hello gentlemen, it’s my pleasure you have decided to join us tonight” Aya says, so that is Aya!

“Let me out of here!!” I yelled getting fed up with being confined into this circle. I bang my fists on the barrier and both the men’s eyes land right on to me.

“How did you-” The man in the suit says his bouncing from mine to Ayas

“It doesn’t matter now that you both are here” Aya says as she stands tall. There two girls that approach them changing some foreign language I don’t recognize. Both men then collapse onto the floor.

“I told you Davina Claire, Arabella Castaway was the key to getting them to come here.” Aya says glancing at me before some body guards drag the two men’s bodies into the water.

“Ive played my part let me out of here!!” I yelled

“You well soon sweet girl, just a few more hours left. Your role to play is still not over yet.” Aya states as she approach’s Davina

“Were ready to start” Davina stats looking over at Aya

“Then let’s begin”

That’s when all the chanting starts, There’s apart of me deep down that knows this is wrong. This hole I have felt the past 3 months is aching in a way I’ve never felt it do before. This must be him, the more I think about the faster I put the pieces together. Those are the originals, the one in the suit. He is my husband and even if he did abdomen me years ago I won’t abdomen him now.

I scream banging my fists on the barrier again as the chanting continue. Marcel comes into the room suddenly going up to Aya.

“Any problems?” Marcel asks looking into the pool with the two men, at me, then his eyes land on Davina.

“No, we are nearly there. After today one man’s recklessness will no longer weigh on the shoulders of his sires. Thousands of vampires across the world will be free from the tranny of the originals. I’m glad you’re here Marcel. Stay close by when it happens will you?” Aya says walking up to the pool looking over.

“Why are you guys doing this, I don’t belong here” I scream throwing a fit.

I watch in horror as both the men’s throats are cut then thrown back into the water, the chanting gets louder. And the more chanting I hear is when the barrier drops, I rush the closets witch breaking her back. Another women appears besides marcel killing what looked like to be a body guard

“Marcel!”

“I’m Sorry D. We need to get them out of the water now” Marcel states looking at both us girls. But before anything can happen Davina yells “No” and throws all three of us to the end of the room. I hear the screams as the man in the suit sits up taking one of the witches’ under water with him. I stand up making eye contact with him as he leaps out of the water.

“I’m so sorry baby… forgive me, Rememoraeri” He says looking into my eyes, and it’s as if the two worlds collided. All my memories come crashing down onto me. But it’s one inparticular that strikes me the hardest. It’s the night I was turned into a vampire

The street was cold underneath my numb body. This wasn’t supposed to happen to me, not like this. I was supposed to live a life, not dying on the side of the road. The loneness of staring up into the sky not being able to move or cry out for help seemed to be the only thing I could look at. I was utterly hopeless as blood pooled up around me. Soon I began choking on the blood stuck in my throat. I wasn’t in any pain no more, it felt more like I was high up in the sky flying.

“No!” I heard him yell he rushed over to my side picking me up biting into his wrist “Drink Bella… please… no-no-no. Not like this… You can’t die like this” I took my last breath Elijah Mikaeslons arms. The last thing I seen was his beautiful brown eyes and the stars glowing behind him. That was in tell I woke up

“Elijah?” I blinked away the memory as I took in his appearance Infront of me. “Whats going on, oh my god-” There where millions of thoughts running through my head

“I well explain later” Elijah says giving me a small smile tucking a random piece of hair behind my ear, that was before we turn, we turned our attention to Davina as she started to break Klaus sire line link

“Davina No!” Marcel shouts, Klaus opens his eyes leaping out Infront of Davina but she catches him with her powers yelling

“No, you’ve had your time!” She shouts throwing him back down into the water, in the process of her doing his she throws all of us down to. We can hear he finishing her spell as Klaus yells. I scream as a warming sensation comes over my body and before I know it, it stops. Elijahs is the first to get up and come to the rescue of Klaus.

I sit up getting into the water with Elijah as well, I move Niks hair out of his face

He is weak but he would never ambit it. “I felt them leave, my sire line is broken” Nik states his voice shaky.

Elijah and I help Klaus out of the pool “I’ll be in the car soon… I have some unfinished business to attended too.” Elijah says leaving me and Nik in the car.

“You do understand they both have history” Klaus says as he glances at me

“I do, and I tend to end that history right now.” I say excusing myself from the car as I make my way into the building using the back door so I can eavesdrop on the conversation he was having with Aya.

“So, we remain connected, you and I, in spite of everything that you have done” Elijah says as he twirls a gun around his finger. “I can’t let you hurt my family, my wife. And you can’t hurt me more than you already have” Elijah says looking into Ayas eyes. I can feel and see the hurt and guilt he is holding over himself for hurting Aya. It makes me feel somewhat jealous, but I can’t blame him. He’s lived a thousand plus years; he should have had a few epic loves.

“I stood by you Elijah. All of us where willing to die for you, and how do you repay us? Betrayal, abandonment.” Aya spits out turning to face his face. She loves him it’s easy to tell, love can be killer.

“You were not forsaken. Yes, I failed you, for this… I will never forgive myself… But I can’t forgive this. You captured my wife!” Elijah yells as he motioned to all the body in the room

“If your life was chained to a man, who left you despite of your devotion, what choice do I have other than to break free” Aya says this conversation hurts to hear. “ So… End this” Aya says moving as he holds the gun up to her heart. His hand is shaky “End it Elijah!! Or I’ll take that gun and kill you just to be free of you!” She yells tears rolling down her cheek into she grunts, her voice stops her body leans to the side. I stand besides her holding her heart in my hand.

“So, Elijah tell me why did you decided to erase my memory from ever knowing you?” I ask holding the heart as I look my husband right in the eyes

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikealson imagine #the originals #the vampire diaries #niklaus mikaelson #hayley marshall #rebekah mikaelson #Kol mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #xxwritemeastoryxxturns2

81 notes · View notes

lindberghtm · 4 years

Text

* . desirée lindbergh was spotted in the fashion district adorning prada platform chelsea boots , with some airpod pros on . they’re most likely listening to you know i'm no good by amy winehouse . you may know them as @desi or as that aisha potter lookalike . their twenty first birthday just passed . while living in the upper east side , they’ve gained a bit of a reputation . they’re known to be duplicitous but on the other hand reliable . wonder if they’ll be the next person to hit the headlines . ( cis female / she/her + c / 21+ / she/her ) .

hey !!!!!! i was planning on coming thru with a cool intro to establish myself as a ~ cool ~ person , but covid has absolutely ✨ decimated ✨ my social skills so ,,,,,,, this is what im left with . anywho hi i’m c ( short for clown tbfh ) , im 21+ , from the rainy ole’ pnw , & i use she / her pronouns . i was in wealthy like , , , , AGES ago & tbh i’ve been missing it real bad lately so here i am with a brand new bitch , , , , , ms . desi lindbergh 🖤 i just finished reading the girl with the dragon tattoo so you’ll find elements from that novel in my biography like the names , & the general ‘ company comes first ‘ & ‘ no one gets a divorce in this family ’ attitudes . but hennyway here’s a pinterest board , & my discord is 𝐌 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁#1264 ( the best tiktok song imo ) . my bio is rambly but there are stats at the top , personality & wanted connections ( inc . this sideblog w wanted plots ) at the bottom ! xoxo

* . stats .

full name : desirée ‘ desi ’ charlotte lindbergh - montenegro

age : twenty - two

gender : cis female

pronouns : she / her

pob ; current home : london , england ; current residence in tribeca .

family : henrik lindbergh ( 80 , deceased , ceo of lindbergh corporation ) ; miriam montenegro ( 46 , lives in the upper east side & london , supermodel turned vindictive widow ) ; no siblings or pets .

birthday : september 2 , 1998 ; virgo sun , taurus moon , cancer rising .

career : heiress / model / daddy’s credit card swiper .

drinking / drugs / smoking : yes / no / occasionally .

physical : aisha potter fc , dark brown mid - length hair , dark brown eyes , no tattoos , two ear lobe piercings in each ear , 5 ′ 6 ″ .

* . character biography .

1998 : miriam montenegro , an english model coming from a humble background , made it big when she was scouted for runway shows , eventually making her way to being a household name . by the age of twenty five , she’d found love ( or , financial comfort , rather ) with the fifty nine year old henrik lindbergh , a swedish business magnate whose involvement in global industrialization spanned far wider than the european economy . the relationship took the world by surprise , miriam’s friends being far more involved in pop culture than an aged man . while she claims it was love , the world had already made up its mind on her motive — money .

the pair got married six months after they initially became involved , & desi was born a year after . her father , the product of the ‘ silent generation ‘ , was of the impression that children should be seen , not heard , an outdated idea that her mother was comfortable abiding by . desirée , by association , quickly became accustomed to the spotlight , the interest in the uncommon relationship between miriam & henrik only growing after the birth of their sole child . desi grew up a prop , a toy for her mother to dress up in matching outfits & parade on the global stage , before stepping behind closed doors & forgetting about the child entirely . this led to desi being raised almost exclusively by nannies , her mother more interested in savouring the last of her youth & her father too busy with his international duties . originally based in london , the family moved to new york when desirée was starting her schooling to be closer to the hustle & bustle of american life .

2017 : desirée is graduating high school a year early after having been sent to institut auf dem rosenberg , a swiss private school that prides itself on being highly exclusive∫ˆ highly expensive . the name was a selling point for her father , but more importantly she would be safe & out of the way on another continent while her parents bickered ceaselessly . desirée found herself to be nothing special at rosenberg , her identity having been formed on the idea that public exposure equated to popularity ; without the constant public eye while at school , desi found a freedom & lightness she hadn’t before experienced . she could be real , & have real friends , & not be putting on a fake smile to allude an air of comfort . most of all , she could get away from her spiteful mother , who , once desi hit puberty , saw her as a threat to her own beauty , success , & public popularity . being sent to private school was the best thing to happen to desi & her mother’s relationship .

after graduating , desirée moved back to new york city , moving back into the expansive upper east side apartment , & being sure to move into a room on the opposite side of the home from her parents . being thrust back into the spotlight , a ‘ homecoming ‘ of sorts that her mother capitalized on , desi fell into a depression . she feared leaving the house , she feared that people would only want to be her friend in order to access the family’s wealth ( a seed of an idea planted in her father at the age of twelve , when she was told there was to be no dating unless their family’s net worth was over 500 million ) . soon enough , though , desi made the choice to get in contact with her mother’s rival modeling agency , inquiring about the possibility about modeling . they , of course , welcomed the legacy with open arms ; her mother , however , decided that this deceipt would not be tolerated under her roof , & kicked desi out as soon as she’d heard . desi called her father crying , explaining the situation over the phone , who immediately created a separate bank account of her own for desi , secretly hidden away in an overseas bank to avoid her mother finding out . the account held far more than desirée needed , but it was her father who enabled her to get back on her feet , find her own home , & start a career for herself .

2020 : desirée hardly speaks to her mother , though they keep up the public illusion that they are as close as a mother - daughter duo can be . her father though , now 80 years old , was actually close with desi , the two catching up daily & him celebrating her accomplishments she believed were self - earned . in october , though , she received a phone call from her father’s attorney , mr. berger , who informed her that henrik was in the hospital in critical condition after a heart attack . she flew to stockholm , where her father had been taking care of business items , & realized that it was time to say her goodbyes . her father & her played chess , talked about her childhood , & reconciled on any old issues . he passed away three days after she’d arrived . seeming as if he’d been able to tell something horrible was coming , henrik had updated his will a matter of weeks before the heart attack , naming desiree as the sole inheritor of all his assets & belongings . except , of course , her mother , who inherited a whopping five dollars from her husband . this was , mr . berger explained to desi , so that miriam could not claim that she had accidentally been left out , & was entitled to more of his estate .

if this wasn’t enough , the press soon released that interntional business mogul henrik lindbergh had passed away , & the companies he owned were now owned by a twenty one year old model who had never truly worked one day in her life . to make matters worse , her mother quickly played the victim , launching a multitude of lawsuits against her own daughter for defamation & coercing her father to leave her mother out of it . berger quickly chose desirée’s side , though he couldn’t become her personal attorney out of conflict of interest with the executing of the will . as the accounts lie in limbo during the legal battle , desi is relying solely on the secret account her father made her in switzerland ; if her mother knew , she would try to go after it , as well .

2021 : desirée has layed low over the last few months , her mother continuing her public display of heartache as the widow . desi can be said to be two - faced due to her sweet disposition one day & her cold attitude the next . in reality , she is normally kind & thoughtful , giving the benefit of the doubt to those two wrong her , but lately she has become more withdrawn , secretive , & volatile . she was recently photographed in a restaurant , crying on the phone with her head in her hand , something she would never normally allow to happen . overall , though , she doesn't want to speak publicly about the legal battle because she considers it a delicate matter & wants to take the high road . because of this , she puts on a face that she's happy , has done her mourning , & intentionally does things to make it seem like life is normal , like making appearances at events about new york city & being spotted hanging out with friends . only a very small handful in her inner circle notice the immense stress she's under because she's good at managing it , & doesn't want to be pitied .

* . personality .

personality wise , she is quite bubbly , thoughtful , dependable , observant , calm , & chooses her words carefully . on the other hand , she can be very hot & cold , self - isolating , two - faced , & tells blatant lies when she ought not to , & denies vehemently when others call her on her bs . she’s the type to remember someone saying they like something , in passing , then suddenly she shows up with that exact thing when she sees them next . her love language is definitely gifts & acts of service . considers herself a good advice giver but won’t take any advice others give her . kind of an air head , in that she can get so wrapped up in her own world that she forgets that others aren’t just npc’s in her life sfjklsd . can get overwhelmed easily , & retracts back into herself & isolates in her apartment for days on end , pampering herself with huge shopping sprees , overpriced face masks , & too much champagne . her way to deal with problems is to pretend they’re not there until eventually they go away 🤡

the world knows the bulk of the lindbergh - montenegro affair , as its known in the media , thanks to her mother taking interviews left & right to allude to her being snubbed by her own daughter . desi pretends that it does not bother her , that justice will be served & that legality will prevail over her mother’s cries , but the weight of the affair is taking a toll on her .

* . wanted plots .

click here for sideblog with wanted plots !

best friend / ride or die : someone desi’s been friends with for YEARS , knows all her family’s bs , prob has called her mother a b*tch to her face dflkjsdkl . literally the nicole to her paris , the lorelai to her rory .

squad : a group of friends who go clubbing every saturday & get brunch & gossip the next morning , have shady nicknames in their gc , have designated ‘ roles ’ in the friend group ( mom friend , the cr*ckhead , the wingperson , etc . ) , go on trips together , have the wildest birthday parties , etc . please !!

first love : this would’ve been in their teens , a summer fling that she fell hard for & who her father didn’t approve of bc he’s business - minded first . they tried to do long distance when she went back to school in the fall , but it didn’t work out & now they’re either on good terms & have sweet memories of that time , or one is still kinda salty how things ended .

bad influence : encourages desi to get the stick out of her *ss , & when she hangs out with them , they tend to go overboard on whatever the entertainment of the night may be .

friends to lovers / slow - burn romance : they’re friends first , but there’s been undeniable romantic tension between the two of them ( imagine pope towards kiara in obx ) , & their friends can pick up on it . they’ve never acted on it , worried of ruining the friendship , but they’re always a lil disappointed when the other goes home with or gets involved with someone else , but are ultimately there to pick up the pieces afterwards .

enemies / mutual dislike : maybe someone whose family her father screwed in business , their parents could have been friends before desi’s mom turned on them somehow , they think desi thinks she’s queen of the world , etc . let’s plan it out hehe

cheating : oop ! i love the angst , so gimme someone who either a ) cheated on desi , or b ) they think she cheated on them due to some tabloid article , rumor around town she was seen with someone , etc . their relationship was prob rocky as fuck , toxic , & lacked trust & communication . just a total shit show tbh .

that’s all i can think of now dskljfkl please feel free to reach out over tumblr msgs or on discord !

#wealthyhq:intro #excited 2 be here 🖤

14 notes · View notes

thepeacetea · 5 years

Text

Broken Angels Ch. 2

Hi everyone! First off, I want to say thank you to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged this story. I never thought that it would get that big of a response. Thank you! Now I tried to tag everyone who asked and if i missed you, I am sorry. Just send me a message and I’ll get you in the next chapter. Anyways, I tried my best with this chapter, so I hope you guys enjoy! (The bold lettering is French) Again, if you have questions, comments, or suggestions please let me know. Peace!

There were few things that take Jim Gordon by surprise anymore. After being a cop for thirty years, chief commissioner for ten of them, he had seen it all. Villains come and go, heroes rise and fall, comrades fall in service, dirty cops, political corruption, nearly dying multiple times, his daughter nearly being killed by the Joker. You name it, he’s seen it. So the sight of a tiny girl running through the streets of Gotham wasn’t something he would’ve taken much notice in, he shouldn’t have, really. But the fact that this tiny girl was effectively shoving aside people twice, if not three times her weight as if they were nothing, did. Angry shouts followed the girl, but she was either ignoring them, or she couldn’t hear them. When she came in contact with him, the force behind her shove nearly sent him into the wall. But he caught a glimpse of her face. She looked . . . panicked. He could barely make out the tears before she was gone. Bolting straight into traffic.

The angered shouts instantly turned panicked when the crowd saw the truck fly around a blind corner, heading straight for the girl.

“KID, LOOK OUT!”

At the exact moment that was shouted, the driver slammed on the breaks in a desperate attempt to stop. The sound a squealing breaks filled the air just as the girl looked up and froze. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as everyone realized that the truck wouldn’t stop in time. Allowing them time to mentally prepare themselves to witness the crash.

Gordon wasn’t aware when he had started moving. He honestly didn’t. All he knew was that he was running faster then he had ever ran in his life. For him, it was as if the world was moving in slow motion. He could clearly make out the second the driver’s face shifted when they knew they couldn’t stop. He saw, heart twisting in panic, as the girl’s body stiffened, bracing for impact. How her eyes, blown and filled with panic, stayed fixed on the truck. Gordon swore he felt his heart stop the moment he tackled her, the truck clipping them, sending them both spinning. Turning their bodies mid-fall, Gordon took the brunt of it before they rolled to a stop.

Ears ringing and heart in his throat, Gordon slowly uncurled himself from the girl. Scanning the streets, he was thankful to find all traffic had stopped, though burning rubber penetrated the air. Ugly, black tire tracks lead to the truck that had stopped about fifteen-twenty feet from where the had been standing. Turning his attention back to the girl, Gordon found her still curled in a defensive ball, shaking.

“Miss, its ok. You’re alright. Your safe.” Gordon said, trying to keep his voice as low and calming as possible.

When he didn’t get a response, he tried again. This time, gently laying his hand on her shoulder to shake her. Still no response. By now, the crowds had gathered, all with phones out, presumable recording, and Gordon’s concern had spiked. Slowly rolling her, the first thing Gordon took notice of was the rapidly rising hand print displayed on her right cheek, accompanied by a busted lip. Next was her eyes. Big, blue, and completely dilated with panic. He wasn’t even sure if she knew what was going on. Finally, and most concerning was her breathing. The pattern was sporadic, coming in short bursts, and much to fast.

“Miss, listen. I need you to calm down. Your hyperventilating. I need you to take slow, deep breaths. Do you understand?” Gordon said, trying desperately to get the girl to focus on him.

“Je . . . Je . . . n-n-ne peut pas respirer. Je ne peux pas respirer!” She manage to choke out, tears steaming down her face as her hands flew to her throat, grasping at her necklace.

Gordon hadn’t spoken French since high school. Even back then he was never good at it. And this girl kept repeating that same phrase over and over. The crowd wasn’t helping, the noise they were making only seemed to drive the already panicked girl deeper into her panic attack.

“Give the girl some space! Anyone who doesn’t know how to speak French I need you quiet! You’re only making her panic attack worse!” Gordon shouted, his patience snapping at the crowd before turning on his comm. “This is Gordon. I need a crew down here with a medical team stat. Minor was almost hit by a car. Suspected abuse on the minor. I also need a French translator.” He barked, turning his attention back to the girl, trying desperately to remember what little French he learned.

“C’est bon, c’est bon.” It was the only thing he could remember.

The girl seemed to snap out of whatever world she had locked herself in when he whispered those words. Her eyes cleared a little, showing understanding. Suddenly, Gordon found his arms full as she launched herself at him. She was even smaller then he had first thought. This kid weight almost nothing. Small arms anchored themselves around him as she buried her face into his shirt. Her body jerking violently with sobs. Streams of broken French spilled out in-between the tears, but it was so choppy that Gordon had no hopes of understanding. The girl felt like she was breaking apart. Like she could shatter at any minute. So Gordon did the only thing he could. He held her, slowly rocking her as he stroked her hair. Continuing to whisper that one phrase over and over.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. It felt like hours, but he knew it could have only been minutes until he heard the familiar wails of sirens. Soon two crews were pushing the crowds back and clearing a path for the medics.

“Commissioner, what happened?”

Looking up, Gordon found the familiar face of Montgomery Hill. At the sound of the new voice, the girl tried to grow smaller as the grip on his jacket tightened.

“I’ll explain later. Do you have the translator?”

“I’m right here.”

Turning in the direction of the voice, Gordon saw a young man, twenty-four if he had to guess, push his way through the thickening crowd. The guy was tall, well built, messy brown hair that was windswept, and mismatching eyes.

“Commissioner, this is Mark Spencer. He works at the airport, we pulled him from the security team.” Hill explain, waving the medics over to assess the girl.

But as they tried to puller her away from Gordon, she let one of the most desperate screams Gordon had ever heard. One that began nagging at his mind. He had heard it somewhere before. He knew he had. The sudden commotion caused the crowds to press in again as the medic pulled his hands away.

“Spencer.” Growled Hill, spurring the young translator into action.

“Miss, it’s ok. They’re medics. They just want to make sure your ok. That your not hurt. It’s ok. They’re not going to hurt you.”

The girl just stiffened at his words, but she stopped screaming. Gordon caught Spencer’s eyes.

“Ask her name. Introduce yourself. You need to get her to calm down.” Gordon instructed, his hand still running through the girls hair.

“Miss, I’m Mark Spencer. I work at Gotham International Airport as a translator. Can I know your name?”

“M - Ma - Mar - inette”

“Marinette. That’s a very pretty name. Can you tell me your last name?”

“. . .Du - Dupain-Ch - Cheng.”

“Ok, that’s good. Where are you from Marinette?”

“P-P-Paris. My . . . my class is h-here on a s-sch- school t-t-trip.”

“Paris. Wow, you’re a long way from home. Alright, Marinette. We need you to let the medic’s look at you. We need to make sure your alright. They are not going to hurt you, I promise. Me and you friend are going to be right there with you alright. But I need you to let go, ok.”

Gordon watched as the two of them talked, almost wincing at how broken the girl, Marinette, sounded. She was silent for a few moments, just staring at Spencer before she slowly loosened her grip on Gordon. Both Gordon and Spencer gave her encouraging smiles as she let the medics look her over.

As Spencer translated for them, Gordon studied the girl. Now that he could see her, he could only curse silently at the person who had put her in that state. The entire right side of her face was swollen, the hand print still very visible. Her bottom lip was busted, if was from the slap or from him tackling her, he couldn’t tell. But it was Her eyes that worried him, they were still dilated, the blue only appeared in a small ring around her pupil. Their eyes met for a moment. As sharp baby blue collided with cloudy bluebells, Gordon felt a jolt run through him. He had seen those eyes before.He didn’t know how or when, but at some point in time he had looked into those eyes.The longer he studied her, the more sure he became.

As she offered him one of the saddest smiles he had ever seen, Gordon swore he was going to find out what happened to her. Catching Hill’s eye, Gordon knew he wasn’t alone in that thought. Whoever was behind this was going to have a lot to answer for.

Turning his attention back to the crowds, Gordon let out an exhausted sigh. This was going to be a long day.

@mystery-5-5 @captainmac6 @you-will-never-know-how-I-think @mochinek0 @sonif50 @zalladane @thebananathatwrites @schrodingers25 @kuroko26 @miraculousbelladonna @souleaterlicestein @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @ijustwannabecanadian @ellerahs @ranger-paladinikoe @xxmadamjinxx @derpingrainbow @sassy-spocko @vixen-uchiha @mooshoon

#mairbat #daminette #batfam #marinette #damian wayne #jason todd #jim gordon #big brother jason #tim drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #marinettes class #ml salt #angst with a happy ending #fanfic

751 notes · View notes

monaisme · 4 years

Text

Day 26: recovery

*TRIGGER WARNING: Features major depressive episode, suicidal thoughts, and self neglect

Day 26: recovery

No one was quite sure what Peter was feeling, if Tony was being honest.

On the first day after—well, Tony guessed that it could be called the confrontation, no one had really approached him at all. He’d been in the med bay first for his own treatment, and then to wait on word about May. Once he’d heard the prognosis, he was out of there like a flash and in his own room in the tower. They’d figured that he needed that time to process.

None of the Avengers had heard of this Green Goblin character before, but he’d apparently been an old nemesis of the Spider-Kid and had a vendetta against Peter personally that hinged on psychotic.

Peter had thought he was gone; had assumed that the quiet had meant he’d curled up and died in a hole somewhere, but he’d been biding his time. He’d been waiting.

It broke Tony’s heart to do it, but being Tony Stark meant that he needed to take care of things that someone like Steve couldn’t manage. He had to go. SHIELD wasn’t asking.

But Pepper said she’d check on him.

Pepper had noted how sullen and withdrawn he’d been when she brought his breakfast to his room. She had knocked and then waited... and waited. When he didn’t answer, she’d asked FRIDAY to confirm that he was okay. The AI informed her that his stats were within normal parameters but that he was unmoving in his bed, and Pepper had freaked. Visions of Peter falling unconscious during the night flashed through her mind so she’d used her emergency override and stormed in, breakfast tray and all— but he was fine. He’d covered his head with his blanket and decided to hide away from the world.

After taking a minute to calm down from her scare, Pepper had been certain she heard him crying. She’d tried so hard to comfort him, of course, but he’d pulled the blankets tighter around himself. Pepper figured she’d respect his need for some time alone so she’d patted him on his good arm and left him to it.

After thinking about it, she wondered if Peter needed someone from the team to lean on—someone who understood what he had gone through. She spoke with Steve who swore he’d take over. She could put it out of her mind.

She thought of all the meetings she still had pending on her list and Steve was Captain America, so she did.

Yeah.

Steve had gotten a completely different reaction from the kid. It was a quick and clear rage. Steve was bringing dinner. He’d knocked and then entered carrying a tray of sandwiches and some bottles of juice. Peter needed to eat, and they’d left him alone for lunch at Pepper’s request so...

The lamp flying through the air and striking the doorframe only inches from Steve’s face had been unexpected. The shrieks of ‘Get out!’ over and over and over again had been unnerving. The hate-filled stare from the red-faced Peter was more than upsetting.

And Steve had no idea how to deal with it.

Steve put down the tray of food with an apology and backed out of the room.

Things hadn’t gone well, and in a fit of emotional constipation, Steve Rogers chose to delegate.

Tower staff were recruited to drop meals off at the door until further notice.

No one ensured that they were eaten.

It was the fourth day after when Tony finally had his chance to come. He’d been busy dealing with Damage Control, inventorying an evil goblin lair, and a gaggle of idiot politicians who were demanding answers that he didn’t have. He’d realized too late that having a debrief with Peter after the confrontation would have been a good idea, but that was neither here nor there.

This was a new day and it was going to be great. Tony knew that Pepper had some trouble with Peter that first day, but he was here now. Peter just needed someone he was comfortable with to bring him out of his funk. Tony was bringing news of his aunt that was tentatively promising and he’d managed to get a buttload of bacon croissanwiches from Burger King, the kid’s favourite. The medical staff had even mentioned that Peter could potentially get his cast off today, so it was going to be a good day.

Tony arrived at Peter’s room clutching the brown paper bag, knocked out a ‘shave-and-a-hair-cut,’ and waited for Peter to open the door.

No answer. That was weird.

Tony knocked again. “Peter? It’s Tony. Open the door!” He waited a few seconds. “Peter, I brought breakfast sandwiches!”

Still nothing.

Tony thought for a second and wondered, “FRIDAY, Peter’s still in his room, right?”

“Yes, Boss. Peter Parker is in his room.”

“Perfect. Tell the Spider-baby to let me in. The sandwiches are getting cold.”

The AI responded in an unexpected way. “I’m sorry, Boss. Peter seems to be unable to respond.”

“Excuse me? Did you say ‘unable to respond?’”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Dammit, FRIDAY! Emergency override Alpha-1-1-9-Charlie. Open the damn door!”

The lock on Peter’s door unlatched and Tony rushed into the dark room, adding his bag of breakfast to a pile of uneaten and rotting food. Tony half-registered what that could mean before rushing to the barely conscious boy.

Tony knelt on the floor next to the bed. “Pete? Hey, kiddo?” Tony tapped his gaunt cheek. “Can you hear me?” He ran his calloused fingers through Peter’s unwashed hair. “Kid?”

Peter blinked. “Tony?” he whispered.

Tony smiled. “Hey, Pete. It’s me.” He noticed the smell in the room. When was the last time someone had checked on him? “Are you sick, bud? Do you need me to call the med bay?”

Peter barely shook his head ‘no.’

That was when Tony saw the profound sadness in his eyes, “What’s goin’ on then?”

Peter shook his head again and closed his eyes. “No more.”

Not know what the boy was talking about, Tony pushed, “What do you mean ‘no more,’ Peter? I’ve been away, kid. You’ve got to give me more.”

He opened his eyes again, struggled to focus. “Can’ hurt ‘em an’more.”

At that, Tony scanned the room, wondered who ‘them’ was, and really took in what he was seeing. The food in the corner—Pepper had tried to bring him breakfast that first full day. She’d mentioned leaving the tray that he recognized. It was untouched. Tony assumed that the fact that there was no plastic wrap anywhere that the sandwiches had been left, too. This didn’t make sense. “Peter, when did you eat last, bud?”

Peter pulled the blanket over his head with his good hand, just like he’d done with Pepper, but Tony couldn’t allow it. He pulled the blanket from Peter’s weak grasp and took his hand in his. “Peter?” Tony felt the weight loss before he saw it, but then saw how bony and frail Peter’s wrist looked. “Peter, I’m gonna take a look at you, kiddo.” He pulled the blanket back and gasped.

“FRIDAY, contact Bruce, tell him to get here now!” Tony barked, “Let him know we need an IV and nutrients, ASAP.”

It had been at least three full days and the weight loss was already visible and disturbing, even through the sweat soaked pyjamas. “Pete? What’s goin’ on? Why aren’t you eating?”

He must’ve been delirious because he started babbling. “I can’t anymore, Ms’r Stark. They all die... ‘Cuz I‘m Spid’man.”

Tony thought he’d understood what he was saying, but why would Peter think...? Who died? Because he’s Spider-Man?

“Pete?” Tony leaned in closer. “Peter, I don’t understand, sweetheart. Please tell me.”

He looked like he was trying to cry, but was too weak or too dehydrated. “I can’t keep hurtin’ ‘em, Mis’r Stark...” Peter became more agitated as he listed the names, “Cap’in Stacey... Gw-Gwen... Ben...“

“Peter. Those aren’t your fault. I promise.”

Peter didn’t hear him, “Mis’r Stark, I killed Gwen! An’ I hurt ‘em... Co’nel Rhodes, Liz... an’ May’s gonna hate me. I know i’s true.” Then he looked Tony is the eyes, need Tony to believe him. “’S true, ‘cuz I hate me, too.”

A knock on the door interrupted Peter’s confessional. Tony looked up at Bruce as he let himself in. “Thank goodness! Bruce. He hasn’t had anything since before the Goblin. Can you fix him up?”

Peter whined at the additional intruder in the room and then closed his eyes.

Concerned, Bruce rushed over and took Tony’s place by the bed. “What do you mean by anything?” Bruce took a quick glance around him and then focussed on the boy. He started pulling supplies from his large duffle bag. “Has he been sick? With his enhanced metabolism, going that long without eating could be--”

Tony knew exactly what it could be, and that was why he couldn’t bear the burden alone. “Bruce, I think he’s suicidal.”

And Peter started hyperventilating.

Tony realized what he’d done right away. “Shit. Peter, I’m so sorry. That was a real dumbass thing to say and I shouldn’t have, huh?” He didn’t want to move Bruce, but Peter needed him, too. “Here, I’m gonna just...” Tony rushed around to the other side of the bed and climbed on and over to Peter. He rested against the headboard, nudged up right next to Peter and started running his hand through Peter’s hair again. “I’m here, Pete. I just don’t quite get what happening, but I need you to be okay, and Bruce here is the best so...” Peter wasn’t focussed on much of anything, but Tony kept trying. “Did you know that Brucie here has seven PhDs and not one of them gives him permission to do stitches? Pretty incredible, right?” Tony hoped distraction would work.

It didn’t.

Peter tried to grasp at the covers he’d hidden under before, but his strength was leaving him.

“It’s okay, Peter, we’ve got you,” Bruce caught on to Tony’s train of thought. “And I promise no stitches.” He thought he understood what Peter was trying for and reached over the boy to pull the blanket over his legs. “You must be kind of chilly, hey?”

Peter tried to reach for the blanket again, but he was losing his battle with his panic attack.

“Hey, hey, Peter. You’re safe here.” Tony soothed from beside him. “I know you’re feeling pretty bad right now, but we’re gonna help you, okay?”

Peter shook his head ‘no.’ “I can’t—I can’t—I can’t—“ Peter’s eyelids fluttered shut and his head lolled to the side.

“Bruce?!” Tony called out.

But Bruce was already on it. He grabbed Peter’s wrist to check his pulse. “It��s there, but fast. Let me just...” Bruce was off and doing his ‘not a doctor’ doctor thing and that was all that mattered to Tony. Blood pressure, lungs and heart were checked. “He’s weak, Tony, and definitely needs medical intervention.”

Bruce dug through his bag again, pulling out an IV bag and assorted wipes and tape. He reached up behind the bed to place the bag on the hook all Avengers Tower superhero quarters had for exactly this reason and got to work.

“He’s really dehydrated, Tony,” he said after his third attempt at finding a vein. “If I can’t get this one then...” Bruce held his breath, checked the line, and then checked it again. “Oh, thank goodess! I’m gathering that the kid would prefer to be here in his quarters right now so...”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, and I’m not so sure I want SHIELD involved in something like this anyways, at least not yet. A broken bone is one thing, a shrink is something else...”

Both of the men thought of their “mental health assessments” and the stigmas they still fought back against. Hell, even Steve has shirked the whole assessment thing. Those SHIELD folks were hacks.

Bruce had to ask, though, “Tony, can you tell me how the hell this got so bad?” He was so confused. “I mean, we dealt with that other green guy a few days ago, and everything was fine.” Then Bruce thought of Peter’s aunt, still in the med bay while the doctors figured out how best to help her with her arm... “Okay, not fine, but still? How did we get from there to this?”

Tony seethed at the question. “I don’t know, Bruce. I thought I’d left people in place, but I guess I was wrong...” He wasn’t looking forward to those conversations. “When I find out, though, I’ll let you know.”

Bruce pressed a tender hand to Peter’s forehead to check for warmth, then kept it there for a beat longer. “We probably have a bit of time before he wakes up, but I’d like to monitor him for a while and maybe come up with a plan before then.”

Tony agreed. “Grab a chair, Brucie. I need to figure some things out, too, so you may as well be comfortable.”

“What do you mean?”

Tony sighed, “Before you got here, he was upset. I mean, he’s upset about his aunt, but he started listing other people that he’s hurt... and he said he’s killed—which we all know is total bullshit, but there’s something in this kid’s head that isn’t telling him the truth and it’s killing him.”

Bruce looked at Tony, “Well, then I guess we have some questions to find answers for so we can heal the kid.”

“I guess we do, Tony replied, “FRIDAY, who the hell is Gwen, and how is she connected to our Peter?”

FRIDAY responded almost immediately. “Sir, one match has been found for a Gwendolyne Maxine Stacey; born September 6, 2001 in Manhattan, New York. She died on August 14, 2015. Cause of death was reported as blunt force trauma to the head. Would you like me to continue, Sir?”

Bruce and Tony shared a glance. “Hit me, Girl.”

“While there were no witnesses to the incident, the autopsy report details evidence that the fatal injury occurred as a result of a fall from an estimated 170 feet in a campus clock tower.”

“Damn.” Tony ran his hand down his face in frustration.

“Sir, there is more.”

He almost said no. Almost. “Keep going then.”

“Yes, Sir. There is a note in the report that was not released to the public. The cause of death may have been a broken neck as both injuries would have been fatal and appeared to have happened simultaneously. Police reports indicate that a single strand of webbing was found on the victim’s torso. This, in conjunction with injures found on the body indicate that Spider-Man was on scene and had attempted to prevent a negative outcome. With the estimated velocity of the fall, the sudden stop from Spider-Man’s effort resulted in extreme cervical recoil, resulting in a broken neck and severing of the spinal column.”

Both men blanched.

“The Green Goblin was found on scene and confessed to being responsible for the death of Ms. Stacey, Sir. Would you like me to continue?”

“No thank you, FRI. That’s enough.”

They stood there, lost in their thoughts and staring at the boy who tried so damned hard all the damned time.

“2015 was just after Ben died and just before May sold their house to move to the apartment in Queens. He started going to Midtown around then, too.” Tony was recalling the basic information he’d looked at when he’d been searching for the kid for Germany.

Bruce was upset. “And neither of them ever mentioned this?”

Tony shook his head. “May has only just stopped spitting every time she says my name,” he joked weakly. “And the other is a teenage boy with abandonment issues. What do you think?”

Bruce smiled a little, “Got it.”

Tony paled further, “Oh, no. May.”

Bruce turned green, in a safely nauseous way. “He must have been trying to catch her in a way that would keep that from happening again. When Goblin tossed May off the building, he must have panicked.” Bruce was visualizing the confrontation, “And then with the greater height, plus Peter dealing with blood loss and a concussion—Oh, Tony! He did the best he could!” Bruce felt his pulse start racing, stopped speaking, took a calming breath, and resumed. “May should have been dead.”

Tony sighed, “We know that, but does he? ‘Cause he’s ended up with a broken arm and his aunt may never fully use her own arm again... Shit.” Tony rolled off the bed and paced. “This kid never gets a break, does he?”

“It doesn’t seem like it, but we’re gonna change that,” Bruce promised. “I know someone, he helps me with my, uh...” Bruce caught himself, and blushed as though embarrassed. “He helps me with my stress and is just a really nice guy. I bet he could help out with Peter.”

Thinking back on all that Peter said, Tony added, “I bet he could help May, too.”

They were quiet again, then Bruce had a thought. “I’m not a psychiatrist, but I’m guessing this is major depressive disorder. I’ve done some research for my own...” Bruce stopped himself again, then rephrased. “Okay. I’ve researched it some, and I’m concerned about the whole not eating thing. I believe you when you say he’s suicidal, but starvation is not a common method for teenage boys. It may be a separate symptom. What do we do about that?”

Tony was already feeling overwhelmed by the situation as a whole. Find a solution to it was beginning to feel insurmountable. How could they do this?—Fix this boy while keeping prying eyes from discovering? And who could they trust? And how could they explain away so many people coming in and out of the tower? And...

“The cabin.”

“Sorry, Tony, you’ll have to explain that one to me. I’m lost.”

Tony stopped pacing and grinned big at Bruce. “I just bought a cabin! It’s supposed to be another engagement present for Pepper but, well...” Tony wondered again where she’d been these last days. “Well, maybe we can use it as a home base. The kid needs a break—hell! I think you and I will conveniently need a break, too. We can all head out, relax, enjoy the fresh air—and Peter can just rest. We’ll be close by. It’s only 45 minutes from the city if you drive like a grandma. We can have people come to us and no one will be the wiser!” The thoughts were flying. “I can get FRIDAY prepped for integration before too long and between the three of us, we’d have a busy work project and could have the cabin inhabitable in no time.”

Bruce just stared at Tony.

“Was that too much?” Tony seemed unsure.

Bruce’s mouth opened... and then closed, and then finally, “I think that’s perfect. And after she’s better, his aunt can come out for a bit. How would that work, space wise?” If they were talking logistics, he was going all in.

“Oh, there’s room. She’ll need to take some time off of work, and her boss is a real—“ And there, reality kicked Tony in the teeth. “Shit. Wait. We’re going to have to make some arrangement for the two of them. Get rent paid up for a few months, utilities, and so on.”

“Tony?”

“May is a nurse... was a nurse. We’re gonna have to work from the ground up on this—and we’ll have to tread lightly. May is as stubborn as they come, but she’s a mama bear if ever there was one, so she’ll do anything to help Peter.” Tony felt tired. “It’ll be a balance, but we’ll get them help, whatever they need.”

Peter stirred so Bruce took the time to recheck his blood pressure.

“It’s better. The fluids are helping... and between the two of us, we’ll figure out the rest. I promise. Okay, Tony?”

Tony thought of all the things this boy... his boy had already been through, and how he’d been alone against the world. He maybe thought of Bruce and himself, but only a little and how they’d been alone, too. There was no way Tony would allow that to happen for any of them again, and so he replied with an emphatic nod, “Okay.”

@febuwhump

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2021 #fanfiction #tw suicidal thoughts #tw self neglect #tw depression #irondad and spiderson

3 notes · View notes

emmettspeakz · 4 years

Text

Gotta Love DnD, Victor

Love Victor fanfic

Summary: It’s a week after Victor has come out to his family and a few friends, but they haven’t really acknowledged it one way or another. Desperate to help get his friend’s mind off of his family’s reaction (or lack of a reaction) to his coming out, Felix designs a DnD campaign that Victor, Bram, and Simon can play, with Felix as the DM. Fun and crazy stuff ensues.

Hope y’all enjoy <3

“So how do we do this? All I got are dice.” Bram asks through Felix’s computer screen, holding lime-green crystal dice up to the camera. He and Simon are sitting on the couch in the middle of their apartment, with no space between them. Victor couldn’t help but feel like they were the perfect couple, and hoped that one day Benji and him could be the same way.

It was the weekend after Victor had come out to his family and they had started acting like he hadn’t said anything at all. Victor felt like right now that was for the best, as he didn’t really wanna talk about it anymore either. Things were weird with Mia and Lake, because although she had declared her love for Felix, Lake wasn’t talking to Victor at all, in solidarity and die-hard friendship fashion for Mia. Benji had sent him sweet text messages this week like “hang in there” or “hair looks great today bud” and that would help a bit, but also Victor couldn’t shake the feelings of regret and pain away. That’s how this weekend had happened. Felix had insisted they play DnD to get his mind off things. But because Victor and Felix couldn’t afford to go back to New York, they were somehow trying to do DnD through Skype. It wasn’t working all that well, but god damn it if Felix wasn’t gonna let Victor mope around his house anymore.

“It’s not that difficult now that you guys told me what classes you wanted to be. I think you all should give your characters names though. It’s not creative if you’re just Victor and Bram and Simon.”

Simon gave Felix a look through the webcam, raising his eyebrows.

“No offense.” Felix replied, awkwardly. Felix had moved all the newspapers his mother had collected into the supply closet to make room on the coffee table for DnD, but the closet had reached capacity and Victor worried it would comically burst open like their lives were a part of a cartoon.

“Nice to meet you two by the way. You guys...are—”

While Felix was talking, the couple maintained eye contact with him as Simon rested his head on Bram’s shoulder.

“Right, okay.”

“Felix! You know they’re boyfriends!” Victor called out, sounding more like his teasing self than he has all week.

“I still can’t believe that you never told me you went to New York! The Big Apple? Times Square? You know how much I love Broadway!”

“Well you guys will just have to come visit us again sometime.” Bram suggested, putting his arm around his boyfriend affectionately.

“Alright so let’s start.” Victor said, not wanting to be reminded of the trip that made him lie to his then-girlfriend.

“Okay, so Bram you’re a paladin—” Felix began before he was cut off.

“Paladin? I’m definitely not just brawns!” Bram protested.

“You picked your character!” Victor laughed.

“I know but I think I’m a bit more of a—”

“No, no, no, no. I sent you a character sheet, you filled it out and sent it back to me and then I added the modifiers and all the technical stuff and sent it back to you, so it’s finalized!” Felix said, all his words jumbled together in a long string, sounding hyperactive as usual. “Now,” Felix continued, grabbing a D20 die from on top of his brown coffee table. “Let’s do this.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. I don’t know much about DnD, but I do know that the DM can’t play too.” Victor said, grabbing Felix’s hand tightly.

“Oh c’mon, let me play Victor! I need this! I haven’t seen Lake in—”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me. Just roll dice when you’re supposed to, DM Felix.”

“Fine, fine, fine, fine,” Felix said, moving a hand through his hair. “Let’s start with this.”

He had four plastic figures, three of them representing Bram, Simon, Victor, and then one representing a figure that Felix started to describe as the Demigorgon before Victor told him to pick something else ‘cause that was “too Stranger Things”.

“Wait, wait, wait. Which character am I again?” Simon interjected before playing had even begun.

“You’re the warlock, the one with a staff, represented by the purple figure on the table.” Felix explained briskly so they could move onto actual gameplay. Simon nodded in understanding and sat back on the couch, letting Felix do his thing.

“Anyway, this big—” Felix met Victor’s gaze “—monster straight out of the movie Alien—”

Victor couldn’t help but laugh, not about Felix’s uncreativeness or lack of forethought about monsters, but the fact that he was the only straight boy in this group and he happened to somehow be the nerdiest one of all four of them.

“You mean gay out of the movie alien?” Simon asked, thinking the same thing Victor was. Victor, Bram, and Simon burst into laughter and all Felix could do was bite his lip awkwardly at the joke.

“Okay so Boris the Brave, Seamus the Strong, and Vladimir the Valiant—”

“Wait, those are our names?” Bram asked, chuckling.

“You guys didn’t pick your names so I made something up on the spot. Now stop interrupting!”

Simon and Bram put their hands up defensively, almost at the same time and Victor chuckled at that. Watching them over the call, Victor was just in awe by them. He guessed that when you were in a relationship for 2+ years, you started acting like the other person. It was weirdly sweet and Victor couldn’t get enough of it. This was what it was supposed to be like to love someone like he did. Maybe one day him and Benji would be that close, would be so love that they were in total sync. It sucked that he was jealous of them, but he was.

“So you guys are traveling through this cave and this big monster thing that looks like it’s from Alien jumps out and lunges at you. Bram, your action.”

“Uh, can I throw Simon at it?”

“Hey!”

“You can if you’d like.” Felix responds. But Bram is shaking his head.

“Can I sing to it?” Victor jokes, smiling brighter than he has in days, his cheeks burning. And when Felix glares at him he simply responds, “What? Isn’t that all that Bards can do in battle?”

“Y’know what, roll for that.”

“For what?”

“Performance! C’mon, you know this! I went over it with you every single day this week during lunch!”

Victor chuckles as Felix puts his blue die into his hand. Victor gives it a good shake before he throws it onto the table.

“10.”

Fellix then takes his own die and rolls his own number.

“I got 15, so that did not hit. The Alien is still awake, and none of its stats have been altered.”

“Nice try Victor!” Simon said encouragingly, before turning to his boyfriend. “Maybe this is a job for a paladin?”

“Okay, I’ll try. Um, I’m going to attack the Alien with my sword.”

“Okay, roll for strength, then add your modifier from your character sheet.” Felix said.

Bram ironically cracked his knuckles before taking his die and rolling, which both Victor and Simon found amusing.

“Uh, 14. Plus my strength modifier which is +2.”

“Okay, you definitely hit it. Now roll for damage given.”

Bram looked blankly at Felix.

“Just, roll the die again to see how much damage you deal on the Alien.”

“Oh, gotcha.”

Bram rolls again.

“Uh, 9. Is that with the modifier still or no?”

“Not this time, but you’ve dealt 9d sword damage to the Alien, which means you’ve been spotted and Simon’s character can’t use his stealth to get away anymore.”

“What? We could’ve snuck around it?” Bram grumbled, throwing his hands up in the air.

“It’s an open-world kind of game, man. You gotta think outside of the box.” Felix replied pointedly. Bram sighed and handed the die to Simon, who chose to roll for dexterity, to run away from the alien.

“Isn’t Bram the athlete?” Victor teases him.

“Yeah! But you’re just gonna run away from the alien and leave us to die from it?”

“No! If this works, I’m gonna go find the next village and see if there’s anyone who can help us.”

“Alright, roll for that.” Felix says.

Simon shakes the die like Bram did, but with a bit more vigor and then throws it down on his coffee table.

“Uh…it’s a nat 20!” Simon cheers, but he looks nervous.

“I’m trusting you here!” Felix reminds him. “I can’t actually see your die, but you better be honest with me!”

“It’s a one.” Bram informs his DM, looking scared at what outcome this will yield as he grabs Simon’s arm and squeezes it tightly toward his body.

“Bram!”

“Simon, they’re our friends! We can’t lie to them!”

“Fine,” Simon grumbles. “I just hope we’re not screwed now.”

“So Simon, since you got rolled a 1, you’re getting the energy to run away and then slip and fall and yell, ‘fuck!’ just as loudly as you can, so now the Alien has turned on you.”

“Oh shit!” Simon yells, almost proving Felix’s point.

It takes a little while before anyone knows what to do to stop the monster, and since it’s the afternoon and the boys haven’t eaten anything, they take a break for some pizza delivery before going back to the game.

“I’m gonna try to hit it again.” Bram says when they sit back down to it. It’s been hours since they started the game and all they’ve done is fight this one monster, but Victor doesn’t care. He hasn’t thought a bit about what going back to his house is gonna be like and frankly he doesn’t care. He’s enjoying this nerdy time with his friends and wish it could never stop.

“Roll for strength.”

Bram does.

“Ugh, 3!”

“Is that with or without the modifier?” Felix asks. Luckily it’s without.

“So 5? That does not hit. Now you’ve made the Alien all angry though.”

“Ugh, what now?”

“Victor, your turn again.” Felix tells him, handing him his blue die. “What’s your action?”

“I’m gonna see if maybe I can appeal to a nearby animal for help.” Victor says, sounding just like a bard. Felix can’t help but laugh, but it’s a sound strategy, as nothing else has worked out for them yet.

“Roll for performance.” Felix says.

Victor shakes the die and then drops it onto the table. It moves around and around like a spinning top. It’s moving so fast, but at one point it looks like it’s gonna be a nat 20 before it tips the opposite direction. Victor sighs in disappointment before he realizes it has landed on 18.

“What, no way!” Victor cries out, holding his hands up high towards the ceiling. “That’s a nat 20 right?”

“Well, it is a 20, but not a natural 20. You definitely got some animal’s attention. A wolf-bat hybrid creature comes out of its den in the cave and you ask it to help you and your friends get out of the cave. And it’s happy you asked it for help, so it starts leading you out of the cave and away from the alien. Just then—”

“What? Just then, nothing. I rolled a 20, you can’t have something happen to us now!” Victor cries out.

“It’s my game, I can do whatever I want.” Felix replies his voice light and teasing.

“There’s a sudden earthquake and huge rocks start falling down upon all of you. All of you roll for dexterity to get out of the way of the falling rocks and catch up with the wolf-bat hybrid to get to safety.”

Simon rolls, then Bram and Victor roll simultaneously. Simon rolls a 7, Bram a 13, and Victor gets an 11.

“Since Bram made it above 12, he has to help Simon out of the cave after he gets hit on the back of the head once with a rock. Victor leads the group to safety with the help of the wolf-bat hybrid and it’s on to the next village. End of game 1.”

“Wow! What an awesome game Felix!” Bram remarks.

“This was really fun you guys,” Simon agrees, speaking into the webcam as if he was meeting Felix and Victor’s gazes directly. “Hopefully we can do it again next time when we’re in Atlanta.”

“Wait, you mean, you guys are coming to visit US?” Victor asks, incredulous. He can’t believe his ears.

“Yeah, you came to visit us, it’s only fair we do the same thing. Besides, Bram wants to get some pointers from the coach about how to coach middle school kids.”

“Might wanna choose a different gym teacher to learn from,” Felix tells him, smiling.

“Whatever, we wanna see you guys, and introduce you to our friends Leah and Abby too. We’re all coming back for a homecoming type thing, even our friend Nick is gonna be there. It’s not for at least a month, but we’ll be up there soon, I promise. And as always, we’re here if you need anything, Victor.”

“Thanks you guys. I can’t wait to see you guys in person again.” Victor says, and he’s definitely gushing. They used to be strangers to him, but now he can’t imagine life without their support. They’re like his fairy gay fathers or something. Victor laughs at that prospect, but it’s an accurate name for them.

“Nice meeting you Felix! Great game! Talk to you guys soon!” Bram says, and the call goes out.

“They’re really great.” Felix says, almost absentmindedly.

“Yeah,” Victor says, fully registering how he feels towards all the new friends he’s made in the last few weeks, and a warm, welcoming feeling filling up his stomach, almost like the butterflies that welled up in his chest when he kissed Benji. Only this was different. This was purely platonic. Victor’s family life might not be what he’d like it to be right now, but his social life was better than it ever was in Texas. What’s more, he was finally living his true life, his gay self, and he felt better than he had in days.

“Yeah, they’re pretty great.”

#love victor spoilers #love victor #love victor fanfic #dnd #love victor dnd #love victor dnd fanfic #emmett writes stuff

20 notes · View notes

calpalirwin · 4 years

Text

I Hate California

Summary: Blake Harris’ symbol of why he hates California ends up at his work.

A/N: I’ve been in a bit of a writer’s funk, so @frontmanash suggested I write something more on the outside of my comfort fluffy writing zone. So, we have her (and Dylan Brady’s I Hate California) to thank for this masterpiece.

Content: Just angst.

Word Count: 2.2k

And away, and away we go!

I braced my hands on my knees, breathing hard. Despite the scorching heat that made me feel like all the water in the world wouldn’t be enough to quench my thirst, and the scratches on my legs from our hike, I couldn’t help but smile over at the boy who stood on the edge of the world, his arms stretched out wide. The view was impeccable, like he had promised, but him and I had differing opinions on what that view was. “Isn’t it beautiful?” he breathed, his eyes shining like melted gold in the sun.

“Very,” I grinned. “You’d fit in good here, babe.”

“You think?!” he asked, his voice full of excitement and hope.

“Yeah, had you more pegged as a Seattle type, though,” I teased.

His laugh rang out around us, a loud boyish sound that warmed me up more than the California sun could ever hope to do on its own. “Very funny, babe. But LA is where the music scene is now. It’s where everything is.”

“It’s not where I am,” I whispered in his ear, wrapping my arms around his waist, resting my chin on his shoulder.

He laughed again, too enchanted with the daydream playing his head to properly digest my words. “Neither am I. But I could be.”

“I.” My heart cracked, a small fissure forming. Not “we.”

~~~

5 Years Later

My throat tightened and tears sprang to my eyes. So Ashton had finally done it. The last domino in a long line of my world crashing down. An ending I had seen from the beginning. Something that was still just a hopeful daydream when we had last seen each other. When we had set into motion the end to our thunderous finish.

And now the radio station I worked at was having them as our guests. I hated how every time I closed my eyes everything replayed like a movie scene.

To those who passed by us, we looked like mad men, our shouts echoing off the buildings as we screamed at each other, his soft brown curls frizzing at the edges in the London rain. The final sob stuck in my chest as the reality we had tried for so long to deny set in around us. No matter how happy we were together, or how well we fit together, I knew he was happier in his life without me. And as selfishly as I wanted to keep him, to keep screaming until our voices grew hoarse and we collapsed one last time in each other’s arms, I understood that I had to let him go. To free him to keep living his life in London, or to move to Los Angeles, a city I knew held a place in his heart that I had been trying in vain to fill with myself.

I hated how badly I still hurt from a loss I knew was coming. And I absolutely despised California.

~~~

“And here in the studio with D and B in the Afternoon, it’s Sydney's success story, 5SOS!” Danica Schmidt, my co-host introduced, getting the interview going. “Happy to have you boys.”

“Happy to be here,” they answered, shaking our hands before taking the offered seats, adjusting their headphones as they did so.

It wasn’t lost on me how Ashton’s fingers brushed against mine when we moved away from each other, prolonging the contact, nor how his soft gaze stayed on me as he took his seat. A better man would have been ashamed at the smug satisfaction that coursed through me when I broke contact to busy myself with the notes for our interview and his smile faltered.

I let the practiced professionalism that came with doing a million interviews just like this one propel me through the last hour of our show, matching Danica’s positive energy for the sake of not sounding as dead on air as I actually felt. The more Danica and I rolled out the stats of 5SOS’ success, and listened to Ashton reassure us that him and the boys were really excited to be living their dreams, the more I wanted to vomit all over the studio and his expensive shoes.

After the small entirety of hell on Earth, I got to say, “Well, that’s all the time we have for today. Thank you again, 5SOS, for coming in for a chat.”

“Yes, lovely to see you boys and catch up. Best of luck to ya,” Danica smiled.

“Thanks for having us,” they chorused.

“That’s it for D and B in the Afternoon, I’m Danica Schmidt,” Danica started our outro.

“And I’m Blake Harris.”

“And we’re 5SOS, and this is our hit single off our newest album, Youngblood. Be sure to pick up a copy.”

~~~

“Blake, wait up!” Ashton called out to me, his footsteps heavy as he half-jogged down the hallway to catch up to me. I kept walking. “Seriously, B?”

“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked, pausing and turning to look at him. I hated how I only came up to his chin, and how badly that made me want to rest under it like I used to. I forced my own chin upwards to look at the irritation written across his face. Again, smug satisfaction washed over me and I didn’t have it in me to feel ashamed for it. As happy as I was for him that he was happy, I hated that it was at my expense. I hated that he had never been mine to keep; that I had lost him before he ever really had a chance to be mine to start with. And I hated the fact that there would always be a piece of me that still loved him and probably always would. So to know I could still get under his skin the way he would always be under mine felt good, even if it did feel dirty.

Those pretty eyes that haunted my dreams rolled and his tongue clicked in his cheek, stemming his agitation. “That's how it’s gonna be, huh?”

“That’s how what’s gonna be, Ashton? You coming back into my life for a radio show, and then breezing right back out of it to do the next spectacular thing on the list of spectacular things Ashton Irwin can do without Blake Harris holding him back?”

“I- I didn’t know it was your radio show. If I had I-”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Of course ya didn’t…” I muttered. Why would he? Why would I be anything beyond a brief sentence in his life story? Why was I stupid enough to think I could have been more to him; the way he had been more to me?

“Blake Harris, pity party of 1, your table’s ready.”

“Yep. Good to see you too, Ashton.” I willed my feet to turn and move me further down the hall, putting him behind me.

I made it to my car before he caught up, his hand slamming down on my roof. “Damn you!” he cursed.

“What?” I was too exhausted to match his level of anger, and even if I wasn’t, I didn’t have it in me to fight a battle with him I had lost years ago. When I started my job at the radio station, I had been aware of the risk I was taking. I was aware that this moment right here could be happening, much like it was. I had rehearsed speeches, and played out scenarios almost as often as I had relived my actual moments with him. But now? All my attacks died on my tongue. I didn’t want him to admit that he was hurting the way that I was. I didn’t want him to hurt at all.

“You’re just going to push me away again?” The question caught me off-guard. In all my mind’s scenarios I never imagined him sounding so broken.

“I never pushed you away, Ashton. You can’t push something away you never had to begin with.”

“That’s because you never gave me a chance to be yours! You held me at arm’s length, remember?!”

My blood boiled and even though I hadn’t wanted to, I was fighting back. “You never wanted to be mine! You’ve always been in love with places, Ashton, not people!”

“What is so wrong about me wanting a life for myself?!”

“Nothing! God, Ashton, can’t you see that’s why I let go?! I knew I wasn’t enough for you, but I was selfish enough to try anyway!”

“You should have tried harder!”

“Why?! So it can hurt me more to see you happy in LA?!”

“Who said I was happy?!”

His question stunned me. If he wasn’t happy, then what had all this hurt been for? “Are you?”

“Yes…”

“Good. I love that you’re happy. I love that you have the life you always wanted for yourself.”

“But that didn’t mean I didn’t want you, too. God, Blake, you didn’t give me a fair chance, and we both know it. To you, we were doomed from the start, and you never bothered to check if it was true.”

“That’s not true…”

“Yes it is!” His fight was back, but heartwrenchingly so.

“No, it’s not!” I hurled back the schoolyard defense. “You were in love with LA, and what it could give you!”

“I was in love with you, too!”

“No you weren’t! You said “I” not “we,” Ashton! I was there! I remember!”

“You’re seriously going to take one part of one conversation over our entire relationship?!”

“It wasn’t just one part of one conversation, Ashton! It was every conversation! Whenever you talked about your plans, I was never in them!”

“I didn’t think you wanted to!”

“That right there was the problem! You didn’t think, Ashton! You never did!”

“Then why didn’t you ever say anything?! Why did you expect me to read your mind?! Why couldn’t you just let me in?!”

“Because you deserve LA! You deserve everything it’s given you and then some! You deserve everything that makes you happiest and I wasn’t it! I was never going to be what made you happy!”

“That wasn’t your decision to make for me, B! It’s my life, don’t you think I should get final say on who’s in it?!”

“You did get final say, Ashton! You went to LA , and left me with the memories! And I love that you love it, Ash, I really do. But I hate it. I hate that it has your heart in a way I never could. I hate that it keeps you warmer than my arms did. I hate California!”

“Then hate California, Blake! Go ahead and keep telling yourself the same bullshit lie about how you lost me to a place! A place! Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?! You’re a person, Blake! You were never in competition with LA, just your own doubts.”

“My own doubts that you proved right at every turn, Ashton! You never missed me. Not the way I missed you.”

“And how do you know that?! How do you know that I didn’t miss you back then?! That I still don’t miss you now?! That I haven’t been playing scenarios of conversations just like this, only in those scenarios we don’t say a word, we just… fall back into place like we’re supposed to?”

“Because this isn’t some fantasy with a happy ending! Because this is reality! Because you’re fuckin happy, Ashton! God damn it! You’re happy. Without me.”

“I could’ve been happier with you, Blake!”

“Or you could’ve been fuckin miserable!”

“Yeah, well I’m already pretty fuckin miserable, so I guess you were right. Huh?! Is that what you want to hear?! That I’m miserable without you?! That even though I’m happy with my life I still feel empty because there’s a you-shaped hole in it?! Huh?! Is that what you want?! For me to scream out some declaration that reassures every doubt you ever had about us, and erases every stab of pain you ever felt?! The magical phrase of “I love you” that fixes years of silence and shit?! Because I’ll say it Blake! If that’s what it takes, I swear I’ll say it!”

“I want you to mean it! I want you to love me with the same devotion you love LA! That you would chase down everything to be with me! Damn it, Ash! I want to be chosen! And I want the person choosing me to mean it with every part of their being!”

“I did! I did mean it! I did choose you! You just never chose me back because you didn’t believe in what we were!”

“Did. Past tense...”

“I tried Blake... God damn it, I tried, but being with you was like dating a brick wall.”

“Yeah. Some fight you put up...”

“Whatever. If it’s easier for you to have me be the villain in your story, fine. Whatever makes you happy, Blake.”

“It wasn’t my happiness I cared about. Maybe if it was then this would be a different conversation.”

“Yeah, well… live and learn. G’bye Blake.” He hesitated briefly, his fingers giving a drumming tap on the roof of my car. Then, he was walking across the parking lot, and away from me. And I hated that I couldn’t hate him the way I hated myself and that damn state.

Tag List

@frontmanash @goeatsomelife @flameraine @here-for-the-uproars @cxddlyash @1-irwin-94 @sparkling-calm @tea4sykes @youngblood199456 @5-seconds-of-obsession @gosh-im-short @aquarius-hood1996 @talkfastromance4 @itjustkindahappenedreally @philthepegacorn @boomerash

#i hate california #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #galcal irwin

25 notes · View notes

mcleaha · 4 years

Text

hello lovelies ! i’m bøffy , i’m 20 years old , prefer she/her pronouns , and currently reside in the pst timezone ! uhh . . . i am posting this intro at nearly 5 AM my time , and i would be almost willing to bet it’s littered with errors and it’s . . . probably a bit all – over – the – place since this is very much a new muse ! however , with that being said , if you give this a like , i will definitely contact you via tumblr ims or d!scord ( 𝓲𝓷𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓪 / 𝓮𝔁𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓪#1384 ) to plot !

[ jasmine brown . 21 . cis female . she/her ] just saw MALEAH AMICK dragging their suitcase up the steps to CABIN 1B . good luck living with HER , i hear that that they’re INDECISIVE , FORGETFUL , SOCIABLE & CREATIVE . Apparently they’re the ATTACKING MIDFIELDER . let’s hope the upcoming season doesn’t affect their JUNIOR year of ART EDUCATION .

STATS:

name: maleah amick .

nickname(s): leah .

age: twenty one .

gender identity: cis female .

pronouns: she/her .

sexual orientation: bisexual / biromantic .

birthday: 26 february 1999 .

zodiac sign: pisces .

myer-briggs: esfj .

pinterest: coming soon !

HISTORY:

born on the 26th of february 1999 in orlando , florida , maleah was the youngest of the three amick siblings . her mother worked as a prestigious board – certified pediatric surgeon at a local children’s hospital , and her father worked as a high school mathematics teacher and volunteered as the school’s unpaid soccer coach , a move that saved the program from ending due to budget cuts ( he claims he was roped into the position as a first – year teacher with no seniority , but while he’s reluctant to admit it , he eventually grew a passion for the sport he had previously known little about ) .

with her mother’s long shifts and emergency work – related calls , she ultimately became closer to her father and two older brothers while growing up . most knew her father as a man who towered over them at 6’7” , ordering his team to run laps or practice drills ; however , maleah knew him as the man who would crawl around the living room floor playing barbies with her or would prepare fruit and herbal teas as she twirled around dressed as a princess , declaring it time for a royal tea party . just as easily , she could be found exploring the great outdoors or playing whatever sport was currently in season alongside her brothers .

she practically followed in her brothers’ footsteps . as they approached high school , each brother chose one sport to specialize in , hoping to secure a position on a college team and eventually on a professional team . maleah did not have professional athletic goals , but although she had immaculate grades with limited effort put towards academics , she knew extra – curricular activities were important for college applications . thus , when it was maleah’s turn to choose which sport to pursue , rather than having to weigh the pros and cons and make her own decision ( or perhaps , fearing that she would make the wrong decision ) , she simply chose the sport that her brothers had previously chosen : soccer .

her high school coach knew the perfect position for maleah . years of informal practice with her brothers in the backyard had enhanced her skills . she had learned how to evade skilled high school defenses by pretending as if she was heading in one direction before bolting in the other . soccer was one of the few areas in life in which she possessed enough knowledge to make quick and effective decisions ; she could read the field and immediately determine the best course of action : dribble , pass , or shoot . ultimately , she possessed the vision and the creativity necessary to secure playmaking and goal-scoring opportunities for her team .

with a line of college scholarships , both academic and athletic , waiting for the attacking midfielder’s choice ( unfortunately , none from either of the schools her brothers played for ) , the time came for maleah to make a decision . as deadlines for summer practices , class registration , and tuition payments crept closer , she finally determined a means of deciding . she numbered her offer letters , 1 through 13 , and allowed a random number generator to make the decision for her . thus , mere chance ( or perhaps fate ) led maleah to hollis university .

her first semester at hollis was . . . rough , to put it lightly . while most freshman shed a few tears as they watched their parents’ car drive off into the distance , homesickness lingered in maleah’s life . coasting through high school with limited effort had done her zero favors ; with no effective study skills , her grades dropped dramatically . between soccer and trying to salvage her grade point average , a social life was virtually out of question . ultimately , she found herself on academic probation , unable to play soccer , for her second semester of freshman year at hollis .

luckily , she was able to develop effective study habits , and even discovered along the way that maybe pre – med was not the best major for her . when asked what she wanted to do , maleah gave an entire list of generic answers – “i want to help people” and “i want to make a difference” came up quite often , but nothing specific enough to point her in the right direction . thus , she changed her major almost every semester , desperately seeking for the right fit . in the meantime , though it took several letters petitioning her temporary removal from the team , she was able to resume playing soccer during her sophomore year .

as junior year approached , maleah was almost certain that she was back in her coach’s good graces – no longer viewed with a sense of skepticism . she had proven herself capable , finding her name on the dean’s list nearly every semester and assisting her team in numerous wins throughout the soccer season . however , with hollis’ soccer teams’ restructuring , maleah can’t help but question if her coach views her as a valued athlete or a liability .

PERSONALITY:

two words : social butterfly . almost to a fault . even if someone has expressed quite literally zero interest in talking to her / getting to know her , she will still make an attempt . kind of a . . . people – pleaser , in a sense , she just wants to be well – liked ?

avoids ! conflict ! at ! all ! costs ! generally just . . . tries to avoid people or situations that upset her . not very prone to like . . . yelling or crying , but those close to her can definitely sense a change in her demeanor when she’s upset ? just . . . a lot more tense , probably lots of eye – rolling and just . . . subtle , quiet signs that she is over whatever the problem is .

kinda . . . chill , mellow , easygoing ? she very much lives in the moment , and tries not to stress too much about the future . always down for a drink , a party , whatever – genuinely just around for some fun and some friends !!!

the kind of person who genuinely gets excited over like those fun facts and jokes that are on popsicle sticks and whatnot – absolutely must share the information with everyone within earshot . honestly , those jokes are very . . . on point with her own personal sense of humor jflakdsj .

HEADCANONS:

she suffers from a terrible case of youngest child syndrome . ultimately , without guidance , she’s terribly irresponsible . she’s always having to run extra laps because she sets her alarm too late to make it to morning practices on time . she’s always receiving overdraft fees for spending more money than is available in her checking account . forgets everything – from homework assignments to names to grabbing her keys before locking the door on her way out . just . . . imagine a child asking for an adult’s help and her looking around until she comes to the realization that “ oh , shit , i am an adult ” .

she’s practically always doodling – in the corners of notebooks , on napkins while eating lunch , on her clothing , on her own skin . she loves making art , particularly drawing or painting portraits or nature . ( ultimately , she only decided to incorporate this into her choice of major after hollis threatened to not allow any further changes to her major ) .

she has a . . . unique sense of style . she has a passion for thrifting and upcycling . practically lives in hoodies and t – shirts that she has purchased from secondhand stores and cropped herself . always adding cool iron-on patches to her clothing . she should be listed as your emergency contact if you’re prone to ripping your clothing because she can definitely fix it .

she probably thinks she’s good at trash-talking on the field , but she actually sounds like a second grader ( and that’s being kind ) . if you looked at her browser history , there’s probably at least one record of her actually googling “ best soccer trash talk ” .

CONNECTIONS:

friends !! friends she’s met through courses throughout her adventures of attempting every major possible , mayhaps soccer friendships that continue off the field , mayhaps that complicated emerging new friendship state for some who are new to hollis ! unlikely friends ! best friends !!! quite literally those unbreakable ride – or – die friendships !

muses !! i feel like every artist needs that little dose of inspiration , even if it’s simply the inspiration of a work – in – progress portrait throughout the duration of camp ! complaints of “ stop moving ! ” and her stopping every ten minutes to ask what they think and probably at some point , her flinging a brush dripping of paint in their direction (if things didn’t end in an all – out paint fight djlfakds ) .

enemies !! honestly i’m sure there is ?? so much ?? potential for this , bt . . . mayhaps someone’s just . . . fed up w her irresponsibility ? thinks she doesn’t take her soccer position seriously ? maybe someone doesn’t think she takes anything seriously ( they wouldn’t be . . . wrong tbh ) . maybe someone from cali takes that “ california vs florida ” feud a little too seriously jflskdja . idk there’s always bound to be personality clashes !

exes !! relationships that ended badly , so she actively tries to avoid them and who even knows what happens when she’s forced to acknowledge their existence at some point at this camp !!! maybe relationships that ended on mutual terms so they’re still p chill with each other ?? maybe ended relationships that never quite got closure so there’s still unresolved feelings !!

hook-ups !! they are . . . college students . they are . . . college students stuck at a camp all summer . idk i feel like this one is pretty self – explanatory jflakds .

honestly i am tired & want to sleep , bt genuinely i am up for & open to anything ! good influences , bad influences , unrequited crushes , requited crushes , idk the world is y(our) oyster !! these are . . . rlly just some ideas to get the whole process started bc i am actually terrible at . . . thinking of plot ideas on the spot . always open to jst . . . doing a thread and seeing how things naturally flow too !

#hollis.intro #i . . . don't know what most of this is #it is jst #almost 5 am now actually i need sleep #also too lazy to log on to my other account to access my other gifs so :) this is what we have to work with for the time being jflaksdj

14 notes · View notes

neshabeingchildish · 4 years

Text

League of Extraordinary Geniuses || Chapter 1

A/N: I never actually rated this, I don’t believe, but there’s a little bit of cussing here, I can’t tell you yet exactly which direction everything is going in. I’m predominantly an angst writer and I do have a lot to give to this story, mainly with Chase, just because, plain and simple... I don’t know if that man has really had people in his corner the way that he’s needed in the past, so there’s things to work through with him in particular and there’s always things to sort of try to get over and into in relationship dynamics and moreso when more people are involved than two. Also, at least two of these people are workaholics, so work projects, assignments, flashbacks, etc, will be something that is likely to appear a lot as a backdrop. The work won’t always be things that we, or even sometimes they agree with, but it’ll be there. Tagging only who I heard from last time @kiddangers @sunbeameyes @just-a-j-reallly @supercasperprincesslove-blog Let me know if I need to take you off. Edit: Thunderbolt headcanon from flashback was introduced to me by @famousflowermagazine (You don’t have to read, but I wanted to make sure that I credited your idea)

They’re the Same Picture

Charlotte woke up to the hyper sounds of the excited yipping of puppies and she immediately got out of bed and headed for the courtyard. The caretaker was out there, minding them, but when they saw Charlotte, they rushed back to her and she waved to let the caretaker know that the puppies were coming with her. They were light brown with black ears, and wearing matching little malleable outfits. She brought them to her lab and let the caretaker worry about accepting her guests, because she left her phone in the bedroom and she was not going to pick it up any time soon.

She had one group chat titled Defenders for herself, Henry and Jasper, and it was the most used one in her phone. She had one titled Bionic Forces, for Chase and his siblings, and sometimes Donald. She had been added to that one at one point by Leo, whenever he had to casually ask her a question that she could somehow feel was tied to a catastrophe that he and his older brother, Adam were trying to evade at the Academy (and if she was being honest, one of them probably started), and she didn’t get involved again in that one until after she met Chase and he at’ed her to say that he realized that she had been in this old GC of theirs before. Now, she frequently visited and used it.

She had one titled Elite Force, one titled T-Force, and one titled Danger Force and she hadn’t thought about how many Force teams had a GC with herself and the members, or even the fact that she knew several Force teams, until those three were active and she kept switching between the 3, one particular day. IF. EVER. There was another triple crisis, she vowed that two androids would have to get onto cloned phones and be her, because trying to sort out more than a dozen names and comments for a foreseeable incident was… a mess.

Fortunately, Chase, Max, and Mika each took initiative in their respective chats after a while to be the point of contact and unclutter the chat at the time. But still… There were androids capable of evaluating very accurately exactly what Charlotte might think and say to responses.

She had several GCs that were business related, several that were science-for-fun related, one that was the Bionic Academy mentors, one that was everyone that she knew who had bionics, one that was everyone that she knew who was a superhero, one that was her team of androids, and one that was her lab workers.

She was a busy woman who knew busy people, but she also was the type that liked to be helpful to friends and associates and to keep up with her loved ones and business relationships. So, most of the ones who she had GCs with… They also individually texted with her, as well.

Currently, her most frequent ones were from Henry or Jasper, who truth be told, would likely be texting her frequently for the rest of the three of their lives as lifelong best friends. Almost as frequently though were Chase Davenport and Max Thunderman.

It was a little shocking to her after she met Chase, to find out that they were extremely alike in a lot of ways, considering how differently the conversations she had with each of them went. Chase was always the perfect gentleman. If she mentioned a problem, he would factually assess it, give her stats, numbers, wish her well and ask her to touch base with him later to let him know if his assistance was fruitful.

Max was less precise, but as correct in advice… he could probably give her stats, but knew that they weren’t usually needed and it wasn’t his default to calculate outside of an invention or something where exact numbers were necessary. Also, he was a little more profane.

Whereas Chase might say something like, “I’m sorry that they’re making you jump through these hoops at a place of business. That is terrible customer service. Do they not realize who you are?”

Max would say, “Those guys are dicks. Just drop your name and get ‘em fired.”

Which… was in essence the same response, to her, as their responses frequently were, and yet worlds apart. That was who they were, in her mind too. The same great person presented in two extremely different, but equally attractive ways. She valued them on the same level, though she was closer to Max, because she had known him longer and gone through more with him.

Whenever Max posted his video journal of gadgets and inventions, Charlotte noticed (and this was whenever she was in Dystopia, towards the beginning of the trio’s rise in popularity there), that he had both artwork of Dystress, her alter ego on his wall, and Charlotte Page accolades. News and fanfare!

She honestly lost her shit for a moment and squealed to Henry and Jasper, “This guy that creates gadgets and shares them online KNOWS ABOUT ME!” They had been in the habit of listening to her, but what were the odds of some dude from Hiddenville who posted science projects online for nerdy strangers like Charlotte to wind down, chewing on ice and making comments like, “I didn’t expect that to work out so well. This dude’s a genius!” just knowing about Charlotte, tucked away in one of the most silenced charities in Dystopia?

She pointed out and zoomed in on things on his wall - framed photos of her at gizmo fairs, plaques of her stats in Swellview, etc, and on THE SAME WALL, her with her purple hair and the mask that covered the bottom half of her face, many, MANY shots of her and stories about the mysterious new three Defenders who appeared in Dystopia and began vigilante justice. “That dude knows who you are, Char,” Henry said, worried.

Stressed out, she made a whole account and sent a private message, “So, I saw on your wall that you have the Dystopian Defenders. That’s cool. I like them.”

He almost immediately answered, because he was simply at home, and he was interested in fanboying any chance that he got. “Not so much interested in the Defenders as The Damsel.She’s currently my muse.”

She replied too quickly, “She prefers to be called Dystress.” The she winced and wished she could take it back. How would someone know that? Maybe another hardcore fan? There were a lot of clips of her online...

Well, that had done it. Because, now this complete stranger seemed to be trying to suggest to Max that THEY knew his favorite underground vigilante better than HE did, and before he decimated them, he was curious who he was about to destroy. “Is that something she told you?”

“I’ve heard it around Dystopia...”

He kept up the conversation long enough to trace her IP address and phishing her account. He almost fell out of his chair.“Are you Charlotte Page???”

“WHAT?” She screeched out loud, then typed, “Is that the other Black woman on your wall? You know… People are gonna think that you’re obsessive… or have a fetish... or something unbecoming.”

“I’m a fan. I didn’t mean to alarm you… So… WAIT… You’re Charlotte Page AND you are a Dystress fan AND you’ve seen my series??? This is perfect! This is like a DREAM for me! Or… is this like one of those things where you contact me and tell me that it’s creepy that I have your stuff on my wall? Because, honestly, that’s fair. It’s just… I looked up some of your work and you were super brilliant, but we’d met previously under not so great circumstances, so I didn’t want to be that guy and make it weird, but this is just how I’ve decorated my workspace. I just admire your work, a lot.”

Charlotte had watched --she didn’t know how many of this dude’s invention videos -- Every time she saw his face, a glimmer of a thought that he looked familiar passed through her mind, but his face wasn’t on screen most of the time. The focus would be on his hands and his inventions, so she didn’t notice his face too much. The way that the human brain works, she simply put it out of focus and subconsciously presumed she’d seen his face there, in the videos.

But, now that he said it, she gasped again. Realizing the familiarity, she dropped a phone number. She did NOT want to continue this conversation on the same device he had just hacked, and she had a burner phone on her.

“Hello?” She said. It took him only long enough to pick up his phone and dial while looking at the computer for him to call her.

“Is this real???” He asked. “Are you honestly Charlotte Page?” Before she could even answer, he continued, “I am absolutely freaking out!”

It was a far cry different from the first time they crossed paths, the time that she had remembered only after he made it known that they had before. When he was a little villain-to-be. She hadn’t gotten a very good look at him, but her eyes had at least passed over his face a little, years before.“What do you want?” She asked, through her teeth. “To expose me?”

“Expose?” He gasped and lowered his voice, but heightened his excitement, “Are you some kind of criminal mastermind, because I can totally dig that.”

“I’m…” She looked at the muted video where she had been studying his wall and she realized something. There weren’t photos of each, next to each other. There were no lines, or notes or string... He didn’t know that those were the same people. He didn’t know that she was the Damsel of Distress. He really was... just a fan of both of them. Maybe it was subconscious on his part, but she didn’t feel like he was playing mind games or anything. And… he had powers, so exposing her wouldn’t be wise for him or other supers.

“Charlotte? Are you still there? I’m not gonna expose you, if you were waiting on an answer to that. But, I’ve gotta tell you… I’m a superhero now and if we gotta cross paths while you’re in your criminal phase… I mean… It’ll be AWESOME and like hella fun… but, I’d have to take you down. Duty and all that.”

Now, she laughed. “The Dystopian cops haven’t been able to, but give it your best shot.” There was a long pause and then a longer gasp, then the exhaling and declaration, “CharlottePageisalsotheDamselandIcan’tbelieveIdidn’tnoticeitbefore!”

“I prefer Dystress. With a “Y,” like Dystopia + Mistress… The Damsel of Distress was supposed to a clever one liner and nothing more. Some overgrown goon caught me about to tamper with supplies that we needed to steal from the criminals to give to the kids in our charity, and he said something like, “Looky here, a damsel in distress,” and…”

“And you, a 4’11 (I can’t believe that I didn’t even place your identical measurements to figure this out), you touched your wrist, hulked up somehow and beat him with his own weapon, then said, “More like a Damsel OF Distress,” and it was caught on security cameras. I HAVE that footage. I’ve gotten probably every piece of footage of you that has been recorded. I am not kidding when I say to you, that I am your biggest fan.”

“You’d think that with that wall you’ve collected,” she said, her wide smile evident in her voice. She knew that the kids in Dystopia stanned Dystress. They would tag her name and image all over the place and whenever in costume, girls and women always gave her stuff, sometimes, what appeared to be their last. She would refuse it and give them whatever she had on her to spare.

Dogfight was in essence sleepwalking through battle, so even though he could reply to people (in Spanish), they usually didn’t understand it and generally didn’t talk much to him.

Deflector was just that, on or off the battlefield. Henry had never mastered lying, that much was sure, but found that avoiding questions because he only spoke English, or if they spoke English, simply deflecting the conversation instead of making up something worked better for his mystery and his cover than lying ever did.

Dystress was the one who spoke with the people. She spoke their language. She spoke to them as people. All of the Defenders were heroes to the Dystopian downtrodden, but Dystress was like a motherly hero. She could be both that ferocious bear whose cubs are threatened but she generally delivered the goods while Dogfight and Deflector fought off the criminals. Her covered face and purple ombre locks were what they saw right before they had meals that weren’t drugged to kidnap them or rotten. The image that they saw whenever they got clean socks, soap and towels...

“What are you thinking about?” Max wondered, his voice now soft, having regained control of himself after this wondrous discovery.

“I’m hoping that my secret really is safe with you and I’m appreciating being noticed by someone who I didn’t have to help save, first.”

He smiled, “Of course your secret is safe with me. I admire everything you do, apparently as you and her. I’d never let myself be a threat to you.” She was smiling on the other end and he knew it, but he also knew that this was a Dystopia line and probably a burner she got from a corner shop. He needed a doorway in. He didn’t want to let her slip through his fingers. “I can probably actually help you, you know? I have a lot of resources, with T-Force. Dystopia is a red level city. Every time the Hero League has assigned someone, they either die, quit, or turn, because the crime is like a hydra. It would only take a mention that the heroes there need supplies for me to get approval to bring some.” There was another long pause and he said, “I wish I could see your face right now.”

“You can see it… As soon as we get some supplies.”

“How do I contact you? I know this is a burner you’re on.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think this is a burner you’re on and I got your number when you called. Thanks in advance… what should I call you?”

“My name is Max.”

“Thank you, Max.”

“My pleasure, Charlotte.” They both smiled and hesitantly hung up their phones. But, Charlotte was looking forward to seeing “her biggest fan” in person… ESPECIALLY if he was using his power to come with supplies.

After a few weeks, he made good on that. She sent him a list and asked, “Is this asking too much?” He was confused at first, because it was a different phone number, but whenever he saw the list, he knew who it was from and he smiled brightly. “Not at all. I can be there by Friday. Send me coordinates to wear to meet you.”

The Defenders were there. T-Force shook hands with them and commended them on volunteering to take on Dystopia. They unloaded everything onto a trolley and Thunder Man was explaining to Deflector and Dogfight that once everything was out of the transport, his youngest could teleport them to wherever they felt safe to bring it.

Charlotte realized that they had brought twice the amount she requested when she placed the order, and Max added, “We also took donations up from the Hero League and transferred the total into yen, in case something comes up in between now and next time that you need us.”

“You’d do this again?” She wondered.

“For you? Are you kidding?” He laughed, but was silenced when she practically leaped up so that she could throw her arms around his neck. Nobody was paying attention, because the rest were working. He was staring into her eyes, because that was all he could see, and it definitely was enough for him to recognize them from footage of her Spelling Bees and stuff, but, he wondered, “Could I see...” he didn’t get a chance to finish the question and she pulled down her mask, stuck her tongue out and smiled. “I’d do this however many times you need,” he finished.

Since then, they’d been gravy. Chase took much longer to warm up to her like that, and even when he had, his gushing in her presence, was generally due to some exciting news, findings, work, etc. He hadn’t gushed over her like that, and Max did not mind doing so, at all. Really, the fact that she was always comparing the two in her mind was how she came up with this idea to… well… to ask them to come on an adventure with her towards saving the world.

She knew that she could tell Max to do anything and he would say yes and figure out how. Chase would WANT to say yes, but have some questions and need some reasonable answers. He would ultimately say yes, whether or not she was able to provide them, but he would be out of his comfort zone without a fully detailed, full transparency blueprint and trajectory. But, he would say yes no matter what she gave him because, if she knew one thing about both these people, it was that they both trusted, respected, and she hoped, loved her, and they listened to her for these reasons. SO, she would always try to reciprocate it. That was something that she knew that they didn’t always get. Max from knowing him and his family for several years and Chase from mostly Douglass and Leo’s stories. Chase only ever seemed to talk about his attributes and advantages. He never complained about the things that she’d heard about his life. Or maybe, he just didn’t trust her that much yet.

She opened a GC with the three of them and asked them when they could all meet sometime in the near future. Max was getting ready for a furlough and Chase was finalizing another bionic mission team for field work. She was getting ready to take a hiatus on degree work for the first time in 8 years and get settled into her castle that it took 5 years to have built. For reference, it took longer to build her castle than it did to rebuild Dystopia itself, but of course, one of these things she was paying for and the other had been greenlit by a billionaire.

Eventually, the three found where they could make the meet happen and she could hardly wait to share her ideas with them and also just spend time with both of them, instead of having to always divide herself.

Max was visiting, spending his furlough in the castle and Chase was there “on business,” because Mr. Davenport literally never allotted vacations for him, so Charlotte told a half truth about requiring him at her place for a few days for a special project and since they scheduled it after the formation of the most recent bionic field team, Donald approved the request, but reminded him that he would still be on call, if needed.

“Firstly, I need to apologize to you both for the short notice, but whenever I realized that you finally both were free at the same time, I made sure that we could all get together! I’ve… introduced you two before, right?’

Chase raised an eyebrow and studied Max. She had never introduced them, but she talked about Max to him a lot, and pretty fondly from how he recalled. “I’ve never seen this man before in my life,” Chase said. It was partially true. He had not met him face to face or even crossed him in passing. They were once in Dystopia at the same time, but although she planned to introduce them, both had avoided allowing it to happen.

Max said, “That’s your boss’ little kid, right?” Max knew exactly who Chase was. He had read about him, seen his work, talked to Charlotte NUMEROUS times about his ideas, and even was impressed by him, sometimes, But he also knew that there was no way that this dude didn’t know who he was. Therefore, two could play that game. “The one that doesn’t really fight much,” he added for good measure. Chase narrowed his eyes. He fought all of the time, but people often reduced his efforts because he didn’t have feats like the members on his team. He had better feats…

“Chase Davenport!” Charlotte corrected Max and cut him off at the same time, seeing it might turn into a pissing contest if she didn’t rein it in, “Mission Leader of the world’s first bionic mission team, Mentor at the Davenport Bionic Academy, he creates most of the bionic teams that you see on the news during missions!” She proudly announced.

Chase blushed and shuffled his feet bashfully, then said, more confidently, to Max, “I do more than that, actually…”

“Cool,” Max said and made a little sound with his mouth, to which two puppies came trotting into the foyer to him. “Hey, Buddies!” He cheered and began to love talk to the brown puppies with black ears.

Chase wondered, “Oh, you have pets?”

Max collected both puppies into his arms and stood, “Have you not been invited here, yet?” He asked, meaning for it to sting.

Charlotte interjected, “Chase is usually too tied up in missions for social visits, so this is his first time being able to stop by and his first time seeing them.”

“They’re her kids,” Max said.

Chase cleared his throat and wondered, “I’m sorry, what?”

“These are the Swagger twins,” Charlotte clarified.

Chase let out a sigh of relief, then immediately engaged with the puppies, while Max grimaced, still holding both. “They should be about two years old, shouldn’t they? Why are they puppies and not full grown dogs? Also, why are they dogs?” And both pups became toddlers in Max’s arms, causing Chase to flinch a moment, but he still petted both their heads.

“They have shapeshifting bionics with identical coding,” Charlotte said. “Jack had very specific speculations for them. He wanted them to be male presenting, have certain traits from himself and certain ones from Cheyenne, and identical bionics that were allotted for them to transform into dogs. They are currently puppies because they’re too young to realize that a two year old dog would be full grown and probably too small to do it, if they knew it.”

“Why does Jack Swagger want his kids to be able to turn into dogs?” Chase asked, very confused.

Max grumbled, “Because celebrities are weird and gross!”

Charlotte laughed and said, “Jack’s fiancee is Max’s former celebrity crush. He’s been moody since the engagement,” she laughed. “I, on the other hand am DELIGHTED that celebrities are weird and gross. Jack has funded all of my private research on genomic architecture JUST so he can both have perfect babies with his future wife AND also have dogs.”

“Whatever happened to good old fashioned going to a third world country and buying a desperate mother’s kid from her because they’re both starving?” Max asked and scoffed.

Chase, ignoring the rhetorical question, asked, “Why do you have his two year olds at your castle?”

Charlotte shook her head and said, “Oh, these boys aren’t going to go to him. He’s not going to actually collect until I get the formula for the perfect sons who shift into the perfect dogs, with the perfect model bionic chips, and I’m going to take that to create the embryos for their surrogate.” She forced a smile and her eye was twitching, but it was extremely lucrative, if not incredibly privileged and highkey eugenics.

“Weird and gross,” Max repeated.

“Well,” Chase ignored Max again, “Where are they going to go?” He wondered, concerned about the Swagger twins.

Charlotte laughed and said, “Budding Flowers,” like it was obvious.

“That orphanage?” He asked, a little bit horrified.

“It’s really more like a boarding school,” she told him. “And shelter for orphans. People aren’t exactly adopting them.”

“But… these boys are bionic. Aren’t the kids there all… normal?” Chase wondered.

She pointed to him and said, “You are absolutely right! We need a bionics specific orphanage/education center. I propose either in Dystopia or Centium City.”

“Why not on the island?”

“Are you kidding? You think she’s gonna hand her babies over to Davenport after how he raised you?” Max asked.

“Max!” Charlotte hissed and held her hands out like wtf. Chase was definitely a little bothered. Charlotte tried to explain, “Excuse him for that. Sometimes Dougie complains about The Dom whenever we’re hanging but I don’t know WHY Max would bring any of that up!” She threw Max a look. Max looked unbothered.

Chase squinted, “He… knows my Uncle Douglas?”

“He’s your dad, Dude,” Max said.

“Douglas just TELLS people these things???” Chase said, highly upset, now.

“No. It’s mostly been said in what was supposed to be confidence. With the two of them both being on the board of the Max O. Thunderman Rehabilitation & Reformation Metropolis.”

“I like to call it the Maxtropolis,” Max said, smirking with his mouth and his eyebrows.

“And everyone hates when you do,” she teased. “They’ve got stuff in common.”

“You… wait… Your friend Max is ON the board at that place?”

“It’s literally named after me,” Max said.

“Yes, I realized that, but I thought it was because you were a donor or something. Douglas said that board is composed entirely of villains!” Chase said, now on alert.

“Reformed villains,” Charlotte corrected. “Like Douglas, and like Max.”

Chase ground his teeth and stared at Max. He didn’t fully always trust Douglas, at times. He certainly wasn’t ready to trust this very shifty character, so close to Charlotte AND with a villainous past? He REALLY needed to start paying more attention to others, even those that he was writing off. Now, he would have to research and review everyone that came into contact with Charlotte. How many other dangerous possible traitors did she trust in her midst? Charlotte and Max were staring at him and he realized that the puppies were too. Also, that the kids were puppies again.

Charlotte offered, “Let’s go settle into the lounge and sit down.” She opened her hand to let Chase see were the lounge was and she caught Max’s hand and whispered as low as she could, “Why are you antagonizing him?”

“I’m not. I just don’t like him.”

“You haven’t even given him a chance!”

“I did whenever I came in and he started it. “I’ve never seen this man before in my life? You and I both know that waif has seen me before.” She covered her forehead with her fingers and lowered her face at the insult. “Furthermore, I don’t like his sanctimonious song and dance, just because he’s the poster boy for heroes, a position that he has only been granted because bionics in the past few years that they’ve been accepted have taken credit for every superhero’s victories and act like they’re doing us a favor by doing small percentages of the work and capitalizing on all of the victories!” He folded his arms and Chase turned around and looked at them. Max glared at him.

Charlotte noted still whispering, “He has super hearing. I think he’s heard us whispering.”

“I did,” Chase said.

Max shrugged his shoulders, “Where was the lie? Bionics are just non-supes with technology. You’re only special because a madman put technology into you when you were too young to consent.” Charlotte covered her lips with her fingers this time and lowered her face again.

“You obviously know enough about me to continue to personally attack me because of your perception of my position. If that makes you feel better, do it,” Chase said. What wasn’t about to happen was him losing his cool in front of Charlotte, or worst, inside of Charlotte’s home.

She shook her head, “I thought that the two of you would get along. There’s so much greatness inside of both of you, that I see, I guess I presumed that you would see that in each other. I had no idea that there was some kind of superhero vs bionics bad blood in you two.”

“Seriously? Because, I’ve heard that your friend here is pretty anti superheroes. Besides the members of his team, who he’s been openly negative towards (we talk, Bionic Boy), and the only super that you’ve really fully accepted was your sister, after she siphoned a little from Skylar Storm. You had supers right in front of your face, proof of our existence and you berated them and talked trash on them. At least that’s how Sky would tell it.”

“You… know Skylar too? Technically… she’s not a super. She’s an alien. All of her people are like that.”

“Wow. So not the point,” Charlotte said. “Are you actually anti-supers?”

“No! I may have said some of what he’s gossiping about, but I was younger at the time he’s speaking about, probably not much older than he was when he was aspiring to be a super villain.”

“So, NOW you know who I am?”

“I researched the information while the two of you were whisper arguing!” Chase said.

“You knew who the fuck I was when you walked into this castle, Boy! You, the smartest man in the world, who has been betrayed and bamboozled multiple times didn’t do a background search on someone who was going to be staying in the home of the woman you love and meeting up with you for possible business? I’m not the smartest man, but I’m not a dumbass, either. You absolutely looked into me, just like I’ve been looking into you from the first time she mentioned your name. Maybe you could get a fast one on the simpletons you’re usually surrounded by, but Char and I? We're in the genius leagues.”

Chase was breathing hard and eyeballing Max, looking a bit menacing and sort of hovering over him. Chase scanned him over and Charlotte stepped between the two of them, into Chase’s line of sight. He seemed to calm down and she was grateful, because he’d looked pissed and she heard that could make things get really ugly. “I heard your response, Chase and it’s valid. You were younger and didn’t subscribe to the value of superheroes. Max was young and didn’t either! Yayyy! Similarities…” She looked at both of them. They both folded their arms and scoffed, then both groaned because they’d had the same reactions. Getting them on the same page might be a hard sell. But, she had a few days. “Let me show you your quarters, and maybe everyone can have a drink and kinda…” her shoulders slumped and she sighed, unsure of what words to use.

Henry and Jasper had been friends when she met them. Douglas and Schwoz hit it off right away. These two… SHOULD have too. But, they were both extremely pissed and she felt like she’d missed something that she should have considered before bringing them together like this. That argument proved that she missed several things. She was so in love with the idea of them being science bros, she didn’t think about Chase’s trust issues and how they might affect his view of Max. She didn’t think about Douglas telling Max things that she didn’t even know about, like Chase having a past with superhero hate, or maybe just a little bigotry, but, still… She was supposed to be smarter than that. She had been judging both of them with her heart for so long… it just seemed natural that anybody else, especially one another, would adore them too.

“Charlotte, are you okay?” They both asked her in unison. She looked up and both of them looked concerned and a little guilty. They were most likely going to at least squash it for tonight, for her benefit.

“I’m sorry for not doing MY due diligence. I just think, if you two could get past it all, you’d understand why both of you are here with me as I embark on a new chapter. You two were my first choice and it was an equal choice. It wasn’t one over the other, it was… I know that you both bring what I want and need to the table. I want it to be a table of camaraderie.” The men looked at each other with a raised eyebrow and flared nostrils.

“It’s fine,” they both lied. At least she knew that they’d try.

#Henry Danger #Lab Rats #The Thundermans #Chasing Thunderbolts Fic #League of Extraordinary Geniuses #LOEG Update #Nesha Fics #Multiverse Fics

20 notes · View notes

jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 4 years

Text

Episode 16: The Job

Here are my time-stamped thoughts as usual.

WRITTEN THE MORNING OF April 20, 2020. EPISODE 19 HAD NOT YET BEEN RELEASED!!!!

SPOILERS AHEAD

0:10 - How much time has passed since the end of last episode? A week? A month?

0:15 - You can see Mr. David sitting outside the door here. I can’t tell if he’s looking into the cell. BUT if everyone thinks that Jessica stabbed Martin - why is she allowed into his cell right now?!?

0:17 - Malcolm looks so dead inside right now. Dang. This boy does not want to be visiting Martin. Jessica looks angry with Martin and done with his antics - as usual.

0:50 - Martin is so proud that Malcolm stabbed him. This is peak dysfunction.

1:20 - Ugh. Can’t Malcolm catch a break? Martin is manipulating him again.....wait. Did Martin orchestrate his own stabbing just to see Malcolm more often?!? That’s seriously messed up.

1:23 - ....This means that Malcolm had regular visits with Martin when he was a kid. Was it scheduled like some sort of twisted custody agreement? Like every Wednesday afternoon?

2:15 - Why did Jessica and Malcolm go back to Malcolm’s loft instead of Jessica’s house? Is Malcolm’s loft closer? Does the house hold too many memories of Martin?

2:30 - Malcolm looks so scared here. He knows that Martin controls him now. He knows that he’s doing a version of jail-time for his crimes. He’s scared of what his mother is planning. He’s scared that Martin won’t make a statement.

2:48 - Anyone else’s heart break as you watched Malcolm realize that he can’t think of a single happy thing in his life? Mine did. It looks like Jessica’s did too.

3:00 - Why is Jessica still riding the Eve/Malcolm train? Eve told Jessica that Malcolm is a good person “deep down” - hella insulting if you ask me. And they tried to date - it lasted one night. They clearly aren’t meant for each other. Their relationship didn’t last 48 hours!!!

3:05 - Did Malcolm date as a teenager? Was Jessica this meddlesome in his love life then too?

3:17 - OMG. Every child has had this experience with their parent. For me - it was/is every time my grandmother (who lives on another continent) called us. All she talks about is food. I love her but I don’t want a 3 hour conversation about the sales in the grocery store.

3:25 - Is Malcolm even still into Eve? It doesn’t seem like it. I think he just wants to make his Mom happy and make it up to Eve in general. I don’t think he’s in a good mental state to date anyone right now tbh. Even though I ship Brightwell.

3:41 - OMG. Jessica looks like she’s watching her favourite reality TV show. I’m cringing.

4:31 - I love watching Gil make a joke a Malcolm’s expense. It’s kind of adorable - looks how happy Gil looks. Watching JT laugh at it is great too. HOWEVER, I’ve only seen Malcolm wear one (1) watch. A regular looking watch with a brown leather band. I’m no watch connoisseur but it didn’t look like one of those super fancy expensive ones? So I assume Gil is just making a joke about Malcolm’s general wealth?

5:28 - I don’t think Edrisa is making Malcolm uncomfortable on purpose. I think she’s just super socially awkward. She starts backing off as soon as she notices Malcolm’s discomfort. JT’s comment though - hahaha I love him. Give JT more screen time.

5:43 - OMG. Gil, JT, and Dani look so confused and annoyed here. Vijay certainly makes an entrance. Not in a good way. I immediately hate him for being a pompous jerk.

5:50 - Malcolm doesn’t look all that excited to see Vijay. Shocked and confused? Definitely. He even looks a little embarrassed. He looks back at the team as though he doesn’t want them to see Vijay.

6:00 - Vijay is an overgrown bully. He is way too physical with Malcolm, who doesn’t seem to enjoy much physical contact. He doesn’t even like it when Edrisa (a completely harmless, socially awkward friend) stands too close to him. That first slap on Malcolm’s shoulder looked violent - not like friends greeting each other. AND he deliberately calls Malcolm “Whitly” after Malcolm asked him not to.

6:04 - Awww look at how proud Malcolm is to be working with Major Crimes!!! My heart is so full.

6:25 - Malcolm looks super uncomfortable when Vijay wipes his finger gun on him.

6:30- Dani and JT look intrigued and confused that Malcolm knows this dude. They also look annoyed that Vijay is manhandling Malcolm and clearly trying to trick Malcolm into thinking that he and Vijay are friends. AND GIL. Oh dude. Gil has definitely heard stories about Vijay. This man does not like Vijay. Gil does not like Vijay touching Malcolm either.

6:40 - OK. A couple of things: 1) Dani showing up behind Malcolm like his guard dog is adorable. This is the friend Malcolm deserves. 2) Dani’s face when Vijay tries to flirt with her is a mood. This woman is hating Vijay more with every passing second.

7:00 - “Aww. You were bad Dad kids” hahaha brb crying.

7:01 - Seriously though, this is a cool moment. You can see that Malcolm isn’t sure how he feels about Vijay. Dani sees it too....ALSO can we get some more info about this boarding school? Was it in New York? Was it only for high school? Did Malcolm come home on weekends? How did Malcolm’s nightmares work in the dorms?! I HAVE QUESTIONS.

7:17 - And here comes Papa Gil. Calling Malcolm loudly by his preferred name. As a subtle reminder to Malcolm that they’re working AND a subtle shot at Vijay the douchebag.

7:40 - I’ll say it. When the killer lifts up his visor it looks like Vijay. I spent most of this episode convinced that Vijay was the killer.

8:44 - Ugh. When Vijay (or anyone really) winks I just want to deck them. It’s so freaking gross. I hate him more and more with every passing moment.

8:46 - hahaha this interaction between Gil and Malcolm is everything. Malcolm looks embarrassed, ashamed, and a little scared. Gil just looks concerned that Malcolm is falling for this dude’s act again.

9:05 - hahaha guessing JT’s name is my favourite running gag on this show. Dani knows it - look at her face. AND Malcolm he just looks so happy to have a game to play with JT. JT even looks happy about it. It’s so cute. Malcolm is acting like the annoying little brother he is.

9:20 - Inserting yourself into a murder is a RED FLAG that usually indicates the perpetrator right? ....why are we not investigating this douche?

9:30 - Dani and JT do not like Vijay. OMG. They’re both throwing sarcastic insults Vijay’s way. I assume it’s partially because Vijay is acting like a pompous jerk and trying to do their jobs for them. It’s probably also because they heard him be a dick to Malcolm at the crime scene. Dude wasn’t quiet.

10:30 - “Please stop.” I honestly think Malcolm only said that because Gil was watching from the doorway (like the protective dad he is). Something tells me that Malcolm’s self-worth is so low that he would’ve just let Vijay keep talking until it was safe to leave if Gil wasn’t there.

11:05 - Again. Mr. David isn’t looking into the room. Why?

11:18 - Why does Martin know about Vijay? For some reason it upsets me to think that Malcolm and Martin talked about anything other than murder.

12:07 - FINALLY. The epiphany of a lifetime. Malcolm has finally realized that his trust issues stem from his father. Ugh. It only took 20 years of therapy and the reappearance of Vijay.

12:25 - I hate that Martin refuses to acknowledge that he caused Malcolm any pain. Every parent makes mistakes because no human being is perfect. Good parents sometimes cause their children emotional pain unintentionally but they at least acknowledge it. More proof that Martin is scum.

12:51 - A couple of things. 1) I am so proud of Malcolm. Did you see the way he threw Gil in his dad’s face?!? Gold. Genius. 10/10. A+. BUT 2) The look on Martin’s face in reaction to Gil’s name (and Malcolm’s obvious respect and love for Gil) terrifies me. I’m so scared that Martin is going to find a way to injure/kill Gil. I’m terrified that he’s going to make Malcolm watch.

13:55 - So...we’re all just going to pretend that this is medically possible? Ok. ALSO why is no one concerned about Dani?!?! All the victims have been pretty, young women with dark, curly hair. THAT IS DANI. Why has no one said anything?!? This episode would’ve been so much better if she was kidnapped and the team had to save her.

14:30 - Gil throwing shade at Vijay. <3 Also - look at the way Gil looks at Malcolm when he leaves the room. It’s a look that says “Don’t do anything stupid. I don’t trust this guy.”

14:40 - Vijay called Malcolm “Whitly” again. I’m so mad. I will scream.

15:40 - Vijay is a bad influence on Malcolm. I don’t like this. Malcolm is blackmailing a surgeon and making calls to his father for advice on blackmail. No no. Get Gil back in here - he’s a good influence.

17:00 - ....why does Malcolm know the stats on facial blindness off the top of his head?

18:15 - Gil and Malcolm don’t trust Vijay. Look at those faces.

19:04 - Look at how hard Malcolm is trying to mask his pain here. Ugh. My heart is breaking.

19:15 - Is Vijay really trying to blame this on Malcolm? Vijay is totally manipulating Malcolm. Malcolm is being super honest and aware of his short-comings and Vijay is using him. I hate it.

20:20 - Aww.. Malcolm can’t cook (of course he can’t - boy barely eats). Why is this information still exciting to me? AND Malcolm with rolled up sleeves is attractive. Look at those forearms. ALSO he’s wearing a black watch now. This makes sense though because last we saw of his brown watch was in 1x10. When Watkins had him chained up the watch was gone. I assume it was destroyed in 1x11. This is the new watch? I assume? My headcannon is still that Malcolm doesn’t have more than 2 watches.

20:35 - I feel really bad for Malcolm here. He’s trying so hard to make things right with Eve. He looks so nervous.

20:47 - Soooo Eve isn’t looking for an apology? She’s looking to “talk about his problems”. Yo. Even if I didn’t like Eve before - I wouldn’t like her now. I’m getting the “I can fix him” vibe from her. Those relationships are never healthy.

21:45 - I hate Eve but I will admit: I love that she told Malcolm it wasn’t his fault. That he was just a kid. People don’t tell him that enough. Plus, look at how anxious and sad he is when he tells Eve about the gitb. Ugh. My heart is shattering.

22:30 - Does Gil ever go home? Why is he still at the office? ....also the man has his phone enabled to track Malcolm?!? hahahaha that is perfect. How much do you want to bet that that started after Watkins?

23:20 - Malcolm’s hair is a mess again. It’s time for manic, reckless Malcolm to appear.

23:40 - Malcolm is angry at Vijay. Check out that shade he’s throwing. I’m so happy.

24:50 - Is Vijay paying for the watches out of pocket? Or is his company paying? Either way - not a fan.

26:26 - Jessica is a vicious woman. I love her. “I should call Gil.” BUT now I’m even more scared that Martin will try to hurt Gil.

28:45 - Do you know how I know that Malcolm is a good person? Vijay is a jerk to Malcolm. Malcolm doesn’t like Vijay. Yet, Malcolm saves Vijay.

30:02 - I love this outburst of Malcolm’s. I see in hindsight how it was a coded message. However, I think it was also just a straight shot at Vijay. Malcolm’s smart enough to do both at once. I like Malcolm standing up for himself. It’s sweet.

35:15 - I hate this. I hate that Malcolm’s subconscious tries to convince him that he’s a serial killer. Yes - Malcolm is capable of manipulation. However - he does need friends and he isn’t a killer. Ugh. I feel so bad for Malcolm. Someone give this boy a hug.

38:35 - Malcolm is high on adrenaline and mania right now. He has a concussion. He’s not thinking straight....but it is nice to see him so happy. Too bad it’s like watching someone you love fall into the wrong crowd though.

39:10 - Was Vijay under arrest? He should be. Gil should do it on principle. Because Vijay almost got our favourite profiler killed.

39:50 - I’m sorry. Doesn’t everyone know about Jessica’s search for the gitb?!? SHE BROADCASTED IT ON LIVE TV. She just didn’t call her the gitb.

40:51 - WTF. WTF. No. No. I don’t like Eve. This was such a messed up, stupid thing to do. I don’t even feel bad for her. I just hate her for playing the Whitlys.

Thanks for hanging out.

17 notes · View notes

legitlaur · 5 years

Text

Brick by Brick // Peter Parker

Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: None

Summary: Tony wants Peter to train with you so he can understand his powers better, but also not rely on them all the time. You’re very distant and stoic but Peter is determined to break down your walls, brick by brick

next>>>>>

Tony knew Peter didn’t understand his power, the brute strength he had. He was worried that if Peter didn’t learn how to utilize and control all of his powers soon, he could hurt someone or even worse hurt himself. Before Tony would let that happen, he found you. You were the key to helping Peter.

“Let’s get you training.” Mr. Stark clapped his hand onto Peters back, guiding him down a set of stairs, “I’ve got someone for you to meet. I think she can really help you understand your power.”

“S-she?” Peter's voice cracked. He wasn’t great at interacting with anyone, but the opposite sex was a completely different ballgame. And Peter didn’t even play sports.

Tony laughed, “There’s nothing to worry about, kid. She’ll be nice.” He mumbled more or less to himself, “Hopefully.”

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony could see the worry in those soft brown eyes, “I’m kidding.” He tried to comfort his protégée.

Whenever Tony sensed Peter was more nervous than usual he tried to call him down by talking with him about normal things. Chemistry and tech, subjects that didn’t impact superheroes. He used that technique now while traversing through his complex compound.

“I don’t understand, why am I training?” Peter shrugged, “My skills don’t really require training.” he finally brought up the subject again.

Tony’s face landed in his palm, “If you think you’ve got what it takes to be a hero just wait until you’re done with your trainer. She’s going to kick your ass.”

“I dunno Mr. Stark, I think I could handle anything at this point.” He looked down and spoke under his breath, “Anything but girls.”

“Here we are.” Tony’s hand dropped from Peters back and gestured to the glass doors in front of them, “Through those doors, you’ll meet y/n, she’ll be living here so you can have access to her 24/7.” His playful tone quickly shifted into seriousness, “Be nice, it was different to get her here.” He pushed Peter towards the glass doors.

“Yo-you’re not going to introduce us? Or umm, ya know, walk me in?” Peter tried to fight off Tony’s pushing.

“You got it, kid.” Leaving Peter with a pat on the back, Tony walked back up the stairs.

Taking a deep breath Peter reminded himself that this was just training, he could do it. He gripped the handle, opened the door and slid into the gym. Except it wasn’t really a gym.

There were computers, cement blocks, web-shooters, screens, and designs. Even what he assumed to be a small medical area.

Peter's eyes stopped once he saw you. Your face was tight, jaw clenched. You’re hair in a slicked-back ponytail, he could tell by the way you walked you had confidence. Not a regular teenage girl has confidence, you looked like you could kill someone just by staring at them. He could tell because that’s the way he felt when you saw him walk in. Peter felt as though your stare was peering into his very soul.

“Peter Parker, you look different than your file photo.” Your voice was loud and powerful, quite a contrast from your small stature.

Peter tried to reciprocate a dominant voice, but cracked his voice mid-sentence, “Y-you have my file?”

You sat down on a small black couch, Peter missed it in his initial glance over the gym, “Have a seat,” your petite hand patted the sofa. “We need to go through your abilities.”

Peter cantered to the leather couch, sitting down a decent distance from where your hand was. He exhaled for the first time since walking into the gym.

You pressed a button and all of Peter's information popped up in front of them. “So you’ve got superhuman strength, we’ll need to test how strong you really are.” You began typing in the air. Peter watched the list come to life, “Also your endurance, it doesn’t matter how strong you are, if you can’t keep it up for very long.”

“Yeah, ok. When do we start?” His legs were bouncing up and down.

“You’re very anxious Mr. Parker.” You mused.

Peter's face flushed with redness, “You don’t um.” Rubbing the back of his neck he looked into your eyes, “How old are you?”

“17, same as you.” You spoke matter of factly.

His hands were getting clammy now, Mr. Stark never said his trainer was going to be a teenage girl, “Well, if you’re, ya know. If you’re a teenager you don’t have to call me Mr. Parker-”

“What would you prefer me to call you?” She interrupted.

His voice was rushed, “Peter, Peter is fine. What about you? What should I call you?” He wiped away the sweat onto his denim jeans.

Without hesitation, your toneless voice echoed throughout the room, “My name is y/n, but you can call me whatever you please. Now let's get to work.”

You walked with grace and poise, while Peter stumbled through the unfamiliar area. He followed you into the medical corner.

“What's all this?” Peter's stomach twisted.

You began tying on a computer, proceeded to look Peter up and down, and continue looking at the screen.

Peter used his hands to cover his body, “What are you doing?”

You pulled a sphygmomanometer from a drawer, “I’ll need your blood pressure and we’ll need to wire you up so I can see your stats while you’re training.”

“Oh.” Peter pushed his sleeve up for the sphygmomanometer.

Day one of training consisted of you picking Peter's brain about his powers, seeing what he knew he was capable of. Peter tried to answer the questions well, but he was so stressed with the circumstances of this girl knowing every detail about his life.

You sat him down again after a few tests and wrote out a timeline. Mondays and Wednesdays were for power control. Tuesdays and Thursdays were hand to hand combat. Friday and Saturday were rest days, except you refuse to stop working so you’d be working on suits and web-shooters, any tech that would improve SpiderMan.

Peter dropped onto his bed, he ripped his sweaty shirt off and laid there. Just contemplating what the next few weeks were going to be like.

You were so stoic and cold, he wished you were more warm and welcoming. It was hard enough that you were a girl who is the same age as him, but being so put off-ish wasn’t going to help the situation. He needed to become comfortable with you quick.

After trying to come up with some solutions Peter gave up and decided it best to call May.

“You’ve gotta hang out with her outside of training Peter. Maybe introduce her to some of your friends, let her see you as Peter Parker, not Spider-man.” May's voice was calm and sweet.

Running his fingers through his curly knots Peter mumbled into the phone, “She’s intimidating, I don’t really want to hang out with her unless I have too.”

His jaw clenched when he heard May laughing, “Every teenage girl is intimidating. You’ve gotta be yourself, show her all of you’re great attributes when you spend quality time together.”

“I’ll try.” Peter huffed.

“Keep me posted. Love you.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Love you too, May.”

The next morning, Peter tried to get you to talk about yourself. He asked you question after question. You only answered a handful of them, your answers were concise and distant. It was clear that you thought you were better than him. Peter would have to earn your respect.

He planned to.

During his short lunch break, he devised a plan to show you he wasn’t just some random kid that got bit by a spider giving him powers. He was going to prove that he didn’t need powers or the suit to be a good superhero.

“You ready for hand to hand?” The excitement in your voice shocked Peter.

“You like hand to hand, huh?” He tried to continue the conversation.

Your stoic face softened into a small grin, “It’s my favorite, you get to see how much a person relies on their tech and powers when they are fighting raw.”

Peter took off his jacket revealing perfectly toned biceps. Your cheeks shifted from snow white into a baby pink. “Ok then let’s do this. I have to warn you though, I really don’t have much experience with this.”

You laughed, a real happy laugh. He could see the sparkle in your eyes. For once you looked gentle and beautiful. He quickly shoved that thought out of his head. “On the mats, Parker.”

The two of you were in your stances. You say go and Peter lunges at you. Being light on your feet you dodge his body completely. Peter managed to safe the fall and spin around. You were already across the ring, watching his fighting style if you can even call it fighting you knew he was offensive. Maneuvering around his lean body was easy, whenever the kid was around you he was a train wreck.

To put Peter out of his misery you finally switched from defense to offense and punched him in the abdomen. Expect he seemed to hardly be affected by it, normally you could knock the air out of someone with that punch. He just stood there, looking confused as ever.

“Get up, your form sucks.” You grabbed his arm and pulled the kid up. “Want a towel, you’re sweating like a pig.”

Peter jumped off the mat and grabbed two towels, “Here.”

Wiping the sweat from your neck, you stretched, “God, it’s so hot. I can’t do this, Tony needs to work on AC down here.” Before Peter could look away you pulled your shirt off. Revealing your slim figure, the tight blue sports bra makes your eyes pop.

“Okay.” Peter did his best to not look you up and down, but how could he not? You were stunning.

You pushed Peter, he wobbled but didn’t fall. “See, stance.”

“Pushing me isn’t going to help, ya know.” He couldn’t even make eye contact with you.

“Keep tension here,” you placed your hand on his abdomen. He looked into your eyes, you could see the curiosity and hunger in them, “Your feet are too far apart, get them shoulder-width apart.” Backing away you faced the boy, “Throw a punch.”

“What?”

You rolled your eyes, “Throw a punch Parker, I need to see it.”

“But, but I could hurt you?” His voice cracked in frustration.

You fisted your hand and threw your hand towards Peter. You looked up and your jaw dropped, he caught your punch. Seconds later you were flipped over and your back was on the floor.

“As I said, I can hurt you. I know I don’t look like I can lift 10 tons, but I can.” He left you on the mats to grab his water.

You stood up and watched him throw his shirt over his head, and scrunch his sweaty hair. You couldn’t help but stare at his perfectly sculpted body. “Damn,” you breathed.

“I’m done for today.” He barked as he pushed the glass doors open and walked out.

You fell back onto the mat and looked into the fluorescent lights. Somehow you were falling for Peter Parker.

Part 2??

taglist: @laurrenhawker

next>>>>

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel fanfiction #peter parker imagine #legit laur #brick by brick #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #mcu #i love you 3000 #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker

178 notes · View notes