#Iron Dad's not havin' it

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Costume Meta 6x01

It feels so good to be back 🎉 and Now I have a 30 picture limit I’m gonna have so much fun!!!

We’re starting with a bit of colour theory because this episode went hard with the Yellow and blue colour theory from the opening scene! I mean we should have realised the show was gonna go hard with this episode - a giant blimp (actually a zeppelin but semantics!!) kitted out in yellow and blue crash landing - subtly is not known here! you can read my yellow blue colour theory here, but in summary - there has been a bit of a trend in the last few years in television to use yellow and blue in relation to queer relationships - the colour theory was used in Heartbreaker, Our flag means death, and Stranger things - to name a few! The long and short of it is that Yellow - the colour of communication pairs up with blue - the colour of trust and loyalty…

So we started with a giant yellow and blue blimp and from there the yellow and blue was all over the place - the buddie kitchen scene, the dad in the golf course emergency, the win a car emergency (blue car and guy in yellow) etc.

Ok now I’ve got that out of the way - I’m going to stick with going through Character by Character as it makes my life bit easier - putting the rest under the cut as this got insanely long!!

Lucy Wearing a light grey marl cap sleeve tee - light grey is a neutral colour - but it also symbolises control (a reference to the fact she was going to be interim captain) and practicality - ironically its also a reliable colour! there really isn’t a lot to say about her costume, other than that it continues on the grey theme for her from season 5 (her lunch with Jonah) 

May

Rainbow puff sleeved cardigan Pretty amused to see May in a rainbow cardigan when she is clearly not being all sunshine and rainbows about her upcoming college experience! the use of horizontal stripes again fits in to my stripe theory and hints at Mays impending change of direction. 

Athena 

Athena sticking with what she knows works for her - black and olive khaki green! In many ways this colour combination is Athena’s out of work uniform, we see her in this combination or with some white/cream or in just black so often and it makes the scenes where she’s wearing colour much more impactful - It makes us take notice of what we see going on in those scenes for her. Here we have an asymmetric black jumper, olive khaki trousers and her gorgons head necklace (the symbol of the Goddess Athena).

Then when she goes over to Hen’s we have her still in the olive khaki trousers but this time paired with a white ribbed tee and a low v neck grey cardigan with a reverse waffle knit texture. this is one of Athenas more fluffy costumes - its showing her softer side - especially when she talks about giving Bobby the freedom to be carried away with his cruise planning to help him navigate the temptation being on a cruise ship will bring. The grey is again a symbol of stability and authority as well as wisdom and maturity - something reflected in her words - her recognition and understanding of Bobbys internal struggles, but also the fact that she came to Hens house to accomodate Hens crazy schedule - and still get to spend some time with her friend - its an opportunity for Hen to offload on a few things, rather than just getting increasingly burried under her work load. 

The magenta top she’s wearing as they get ready to head off on their cruise is a wonderful choice. Magenta is a colour of kindness - it uplifts and supports others - again an indication of what Athena is doing in regards to supporting Bobby and foreshadowing the fact that she’s goingto be heading to Florida to support her parents.

Bobby

Bobby - Bobby in an army green/grey tee - very similar in shade to ones we’ve seen Eddie wear (especially Eddies breakdown) is an interesting choice - especially with all the conversations about bobby being in the program and the bars on the cruise ship etc and obviously there is the scene in 5x18 of Bobby and Eddie having a conversation and then Bobby pouring a bottle of whiskey down the sink. there is very much feeling of Bobby being finely balanced at the moment - teetering on the edge of things spiralling and that it won’t take much to tip hip over that edge. the blue and coral hawaiian shirt screams very much of someone trying too hard - especially combined with his spreadsheet cruise planning. 

Hen

Hen is in a hoodie with neon orange graffiti spray paint swirls on - such an interesting choice - orange is a colour of energy and mental stimulation. its also a risk taking colour. the use of graffiti, for me at least, is an interesting one - it has an air of ‘the writing on the wall’ about it - its saying to me that the medical career path isn’t going to be something Hen continues pursuing - that her heart isn’t completely in it (the heart medical book on the desk being the one furthest away from her also plays into this idea).

Chimney

I’m going to talk about Chimneys costume as a whole because if you look anthem all together you can see the gradual change - the way they become increasingly dark. we go from the blue of the first jumper through to the darkest navy button up shirt with white check at the end. so We go from a fairly bright shade of blue - the symbol of trust and loyalty and security.

then there is  the teal/green when Madney are on the sofa. its a mixture of the blue meanings, but also green meanings of harmony, hope and balance and renewal. a perfect colour for this moment, but the darkness of its tone hints at the fact not everything is going be smooth sailing from here on in. 

then When Chimney comes home, he’s in a navy blue jumper and tee. this is a lighter shade of navy and is pretty similar to the blue of Chimneys uniform - a connection to the conversation he had with Bobby and Eddie earlier on. Navy is a colour associated with authority and responsibility (hence its use in uniforms) but the thing with navy is that it also has connections with depression and mental health struggles and the fact that we then have Chim in an even darker navy with a white check pattern the next time we see him is indicative of not everything being as happy as it appears on the surface. We all know Madney are going to be going to couples therapy this season and this shirt is an indicator of this. (It doesn’t hurt that it also supports my check patttern theory either)

Maddie

Maddie drops of Jee with Chimney - black blazer grey zip front hoodie and tee with stars on , heart necklace - Maddie being back in blazers is a great sign from a costuming perspective - we have only seen her wearing blazers when she’s in a good place mentally - just before Doug kidnaps her and then again when Madney are in a good place. this black blazer is connecting to the times Maddie and Chim have made starts in there relationship - she was wearing a black blazer when she was getting ready for her date with chim, and then again when they went on their first proper date. So that blazers an indicator that Maddie is in a good place and ready to embrace happiness with Chim once again.

The grey hoodie is an interesting choice because we don’t see Maddie in grey very often at all (I actually can’t think of any incidents of her wearing grey - I haven’t finished my full costume plot yet so I can’t be 100% but I can’t remember any) it shows her practicality and stability, her having gained wisdom, insight and maturity - like the black blazer its a key indicator of where she’s at mentally and the combination of the two is indicative that this time she’s in the right place of it to last

Maddie in bed in a tie dye tee and we can see the pink hoodie on the chair in the corner. Im not sure if its going to turn out to be a cut scene and we only know about it because of the trailer or if it will be a scene to accompany chimney being in the car that’s going to (almost) hit Buck but the outfit is the same as the trailer scene of Maddie and Jee-Yun looking for Chimney in the living room. Im inclined to think its a separate scene and the repeat outfit is deliberate - to highlight what seems to be a developing theme of history repeating itself. The upcoming car accident has so many potential call backs for so many characters (Chim being in car (potential rebar call back) as well as being kidnapped again (which will also impact on Hen and Bobby) Buck and the ladder truck, the Shannon callback for Eddie, Hen and Evelyn, Buck and bike accidents) 

The coral blazer is a really great colour on Jen, but its also a great choice from a colour theory perspective. We have Maddie in a white tee with a 60’s style bubble writing logo which says (I think) all good and a coral coloured blazer. I’ve already said blazers are good for Maddie and this one is no exception. Coral is a colour of warmth and acceptance, it has good intentions and is optimistic - it is a colour about a bigger picture rather than small details. this is important because this conversation that Madney have is about the bigger picture of their relationship - the conversation reads like Maddie making vows to Chim (foreshadowing of a wedding anyone??) but it is at its heart one that recognises they will need to continue to put in work to sort out the small stuff - its just that in that moment - the bigger picture and acknowledging that it is the thing they lost sight of while and need to not let that happen again.

I’m a little obsessed with the green jacket we see Maddie in in the last scene and I’m sad we don’t get a better look at it to be honest - because there is so much going on. Firstly the yellow tee underneath is indicative of both happiness and the fact that Maddie communicates that she’s staying to Jee. Its a significant moment for both Madney and Jee-Yun so the use of yellow was important for this scene. As for the Jacket though. We have a floral embroidered decoration on the back - a possible throwback to Madneys first meeting when Maddie is wearing a denim shirt with floral embroidery on the yoke. But the really interesting thing is the two cranes on the right shoulder.You may recall I made this post  about Hen’s crane shirt in season 5. well here we have more cranes being used in connection with Chim. Cranes mate for life and are a symbol of fidelity so here we have a visual symbol to show us that Madney are in the right place now. the other thing about cranes is that they migrate over long distances - Madney have travelled both metaphorical and physical distances to get to where they are now and those cranes are a symbol of that.

Christopher Let’s start with Chris as he’s the easiest! here we see him in a raglan sleeve tee - lightish blue sleeves and a grey body with white horizontal stripes. the stripes play into my stripe theory - change is on its way for Christopher - this most likely relates to his impeding push for some freedoms from his father - wanting to become his own person etc, but its incredibly hard to look past the stripes being connected to everything that went on in that scene - suggesting that the change that is coming is more related to the changing dynamic of the Buckley-Diaz family! the grey is a marl and it references to the same things as the Lucy tee from earlier - practicality, reliability (we can all rely on Chris to have a sassy dig at either Eddie or Buck!) while the blue arms are about trust, security and loyalty. the implications being that Chris is in safe, trusting environment and the bonds between the three of them are strong.

Chris is wearing a blue t-shirt with a pair of skateboards on in parallel with each other- one red and one blue is such an interesting choice! to choose to call back to the skateboard incident from Fools (3x12) is very loud. it not only draws a contrast between Buck ad Ana, it also serves as a subtle reminder of the first time we see a Buckley-Diaz family scene after the previous kitchen scene - the first time we get to see Buck stepping into a coparent role with Eddie.

Eddie

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. I said a while back that if we ever saw Eddie wearing yellow the Buddie would go canon. And here we have Eddie in a buttery yellow button shirt. There is so much to say about this outfit. Yellow is the colour of communication, but it is also the colour of optimism and happiness and of intellect. Eddie wearing yellow for the first time in the first non his first non uniform scene in season 6 speaks volumes about where Eddie is at mentally and personally. This is especially loud after the darker tones we saw him in in season 5 and the choice of having him in two different patterns at the vow renewal really highlights how far he has come. It’s a deliberate choice to show us where Eddie is - combine that with the giant heart eyes he’s sporting whenever he looks at Buck and its clear that the last 4 months have further transformed him from where he was at at the end of season 5. The shirt is also better fitting than mot of his outfit from season 5, where we saw him in oversized and stretched out clothing - adding a physical dimension to his mental struggles. 

I’ve seen a few people comparing this shirt with the one he wore for his math date with Ana, and calling it his date shirt but I don’t think its right to put those two shirt into the same category. Especially as the shirt above actually matches up with another Eddie shirt - in fact  I think it is the same shirt thats just been over dyed a buttery yellow (reason I think this is that the buttons are the same colour on both shirts!) and tailored to fit Ryan better.  2x17 - In Bobbys apartment having a conversation about if Eddie is ready to be a good husband 

“we already know you’re a great dad’ “I guess the question is, can I be a good husband”

All this just before Shannon asks for a divorce and then gets killed in  a car accident! 

To have essentially the same shirt - just in a more cheerful colour - in such a domestic scene where they’re acting like husbands suggests that Eddie wasn’t ready back in 2x17 (because it was t he wrong person) but now - he’s in a better place (hence the brighter colour) and is ready to be a good husband! All this combining with Buck in his paralleling denim shirt showing his growth and when we know Buck is about to (almost) get hit by a car! 🤯🤯🤯 Honestly - wardrobe team I bow down to you - you’ve really hit it out of the park this time!

I just wan to show you the math date shirt from 4x08 - as you can see - not the same shirt - this one is a western style shirt - pointed yoke, pointed pockets and metal buttons/ poppers! 

I actually like that the math date shirt is a western style shirt - it fits in nicely with the other times we’ve seen Eddie in western style shirts - around Shannon and his family - the concept of traditional values etc in shirt form! 

Eddies grey shirt at the end of the episode is very much intended to sit in parallel to the shooting and especially the will scene. 

Its a darker grey marl, so not the same as a navy blue, but the neckline has a very similar cut to it and grey as a colour can mean insight, maturity and wisdom - it is also a stable colour so its a great colour to have Eddie in in this scene - especially with them connecting Buck to the diaz boys through the editing. We are seeing an Eddie who is stable and comfortable in who he is - who has spent the episode being insightful and wise - talking Buck off the ledge during his ‘tantrum’ and being the living embodiment of what therapy can do for a person! The other thing to note about that t-shirt is the connection with that space and season 5 - one of the last times we saw Eddie in the dining room - Buck was there and wearing a similar shade of grey and Eddie sat in that same chair after therapy and picked up Bucks heart!!!! The implication of this parallel is the Eddie will be there for Buck in the same way we saw Buck being there for him!

Buck I went into it in more detail in this post, so I’ll keep it brief here. Buck is wearing a white tee - and we’ve long established that Buck and white tops means trouble! in this instance the trouble is his tantrum over being passed up for interim captain and actually reflects nicely on to the turmoil his mind is currently in in relation to his personal life with all the loaded sentences about couches and and relationships. Then there is the the mid to light blue zip front denim shirt with vertical stripes - we haven’t actually seen him in a denim shirt of any description since the western style one we saw him wear for his coffee shop date with Abby at the end of 1x09. This parallel hits on a few different levels. Firstly 1x09 is the only other time that blimps are mentioned in 911!! yes indeed that coffee shop date comes after that locker room talk with bobby about blimps and stepping in. That coffee shop date is when we see Buck choosing to go all in, in his first serious relationship - seeing all the things that come with dating Abby - and choosing to embrace them (dare I say that this is the Buck 1.5 KR was speaking about in her interview which adds an additional dimension to the kitchen scene!) and stepping in - something we’ve seen him do with Eddie time and again. That date was the foundation stone for what Buck has been building with Eddie - it was a moment of growth for him and a lesson he took to heart and continues to live by to this day. That we see this in a scene so laden with metaphors in an episode with another blimp - this time an actual one rather than a mentioned one - this speaks volumes about the intent of the writers and the direction the show is going in.

Buck is also wearing a watch in this scene - something he doesn’t do outside of work that often and especially when he is around Eddie (I haven’t finished writing my full costume plot yet, but the only time he wears one around Eddie in seasons 2-3 is when he takes Eddie to collect Chris after the earthquake).

Then we have Buck alone in his loft. there are several things to walkabout in this scene and first up we have white trainer theory - one again coming in for the win. those white trainers are a representation of Bucks journey and search for love (both romantic and familial) so to see them at this moment is highlighting that Buck has made more progress on his journey. 

The white shirt with stripes call back is so very loud. This shirt however has a few differences. the stripes are a combination of Bucks two previous white shirts with a twist. There is the white pinstripe shirt from the shooting - with its narrow light grey pinstripes; 

And then the shirt from the Taylor moving in to the loft scene (which of course features the couch!) which is a short sleeve shirt with wider and darker grey pinstripes; 

This shirt is also worn in the conversation with Maddie (where buck confesses to Maddie he kissed Lucy). 

The shirt for this scene in 6x01 is a combination of the two shirts - there is both narrow and wide pinstripes and it is of a similar cut to the other loft scene, only its not a button down shirt, its a button up shirt, its also cream and the stripes are blue and they have a tiny yellow stripe next to them! Yes blue and yellow theory in action on Bucks shirt! 

I have a semi developed theory about Bucks vertically striped shirts - because Buck seems to wear them at moments when he is almost ‘imprisoned’ by something mentally. The trauma Buck experiences in the shooting is its an obvious prison - especially as they haven’t yet talked about the shooting - Taylor moving in was again a prison of his own making and only helped prolong the torture of an unhappy relationship. There is also the black with white pinstripe shirts we see a couple of times - all connected to Taylor and her mental manipulations of Buck (I think i’m going to have to put together a full post on these shirts because there is too much to go into here) and this most recent pair of shirts - the blue one from earlier - where we have a Buck doing some mental self torture trying to work out why he’s been passed over for the interim Captain job and finally this new white one - Where Buck is currently in a mental prison of sorts around what he does actually want in life - this self imposed prison is such a complex one - its of course in part tied to his job and future aspirations on that front, but more importantly all of the context and subtext we got in this episode is heavily implying that we have returned to a Buck who is on some level now conscious of his feelings for Eddie. there is so much complexity here for Buck to wade through - Evan ‘the clinger’ Buckley is clearly wrestling with the idea of what if it goes wrong - what if he’s reading too much into things - he’s not yet in a place where he is prepared to risk both his friendship with Eddie, but almost more importantly his relationship with Chris - the kid he promised he’d always be around for. Buck is not yet willing or able to accept that the risk is worth the reward - that this is the forever love he’s been searching for. There is also the job to add into the equation - would they be split up at work if they begin a romantic relationship, how would it affect the dynamics- of the team, and would it have an impact on Bucks newly awakened desire to progress his career. I also thin there is something in it about accepting his queerness - not in a grappling with it kind of way - more in a deeper level understanding this aspect of himself and recognising its impact on his life. The best way I can think to try and explain what I mean is to use my own experience with gaining my ASD and ADHD diagnosis as an adult. When I got my diagnosis - suddenly all these little things that I had experienced throughout my life up to that point suddenly started to make sense - the dots began to connect and I could better understand who I was as a person (and how tings might’ve been different if I’d known earlier). its not that it changed me as a person, more that I was able to make some break throughs mentally. it feels to me at least that that is what we’re seeing Buck going through - he’s now beginning to understand himself better and its this love for Eddie that is allowing it to happen. And Buck does need to connect to parts of his younger self in order to move forward - and that includes recognising past relationship behaviours as well as other traumas (the shooting) need to be understood. 

Wow I got a bit off topic there!!! all this to say that that white shirt has so so much to say about where Buck is at as a larger theme. I’m wrapping it up here - if you made it to the end I am here handing you cookies in thanks! 🍪🍪🍪

Tagging people who have asked to be tagged. If you’d like to add you name to the list - please comment on this post and if you asked to be but you name isn’t below - it won’t let me tag you for some reason 🥺🥺🥺 

@mistmarauder @theladyyavilee @loveyourownsmiilee @leothil @girldadbuddie @kitkatpancakestack  @bucksintheroom @lemotmo @trashendence @elishareads  @clipboardsandstethoscopes @comfortbuddie @fiona-fififi  @name-code-black-widow @prettyboyandthekid​ @callanee @calyssmarviss @alwaysme @pbandjeremiah @batgrldes @piningpettyeddie @bi-moonlight @spotsandsocks @projectabc @livingwherethesidewalkends @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @idontshitpostbuttheolympicpark @diazboysbuckley @sweettsubaki @jordxnhennessy @shortsighted-owl @sherlocking-out-loud @ekstasisandangst-main @favouritealias @hearteyesdiaz @gossamerglob @ktinastrikesback @adamrparrrish @princesschez75 @bucksbuddie @oneawkwardcookie  @leatherat​ @moniquekatie​ @wanderingwomanwondering​  @trickster-archangel

#kym costume meta #911 costume meta #meta #6x01 costume meta #911 costumes #costume theory #Athena grant #Bobby nash #Hen wilson #Chimney Han #Maddie buckley #Christopher Diaz #evan 'buck' buckley #Eddie Diaz #Buddie #911 on fox #911onfox #911 fox

[jlf23tumble]

WAIT LIAM IS BACK WHATS HE DOING

OH, MAN! The usual! Havin' drinks! Hangin' out with dude-bros with mics while at a NFT con in Minneapolis! Describing with terrifying nonchalance what it's like to have a showbiz dad! High-key crushin' on Iron Man! Droppin' hints about his issues/relations with the D! He provides!

#honestly listening to liam while you're comin' down from a dayquil shield and INTO the illness its fighting is #somethin' else! #but also appropriate? #i had to listen because of COURSE there are some dumdums in the one direction fandom who will obviously pull shit out of context #AND get it wrong/misrepresent what he said (this goes for harries too who would absolutely exclude themselves from the 1d narra #yet they are absolutely in it lmao) #shanyway #listening to these podcasters was more excruciating tbh #why would anyone bitch about howard stern when THIS is the alternative #real talk tho as ever liam is lost lost lost and his dad is such a showbiz dad #if it was his MOM who was doing this--would that bit get ignored? #nope! #putting it on main again #choose your fighter: wedding singer harry styles vs. NFT con goer liam payne #this is late-stage boyband behavior in the middle stage!

[lynxitid]

May 28, 2022 - Written 3:15 PM

~ Got home from my second CT scan, this time with contrast, ‘bout an hour ago. Went well. Didn’t really have any negative reaction to the contrast; just some slight problems with pain & heat. Nothin’ too crazy.

~ The trip to the hospital was a pain though. My dad doesn’t understand mental or physical health. He certainly doesn’t understand mine. That comes off like some edgy teen, but anyways.

~ So tired of havin’ to deal with people; in both a general sense & a personal sense. Tired of this “family”, tired of school, tired of online stuff, tired of people I interact with, tired of my health, & just tired of myself. I’m not suicidal anymore, I’m just exhausted. Which ironically enough, makes it sound like I am. I have no intentions of suicide, & I won’t any time soon. I’m just tired of everythin’ life throws my way. Been dealt a shit hand of cards, since way before I was 18. I just turned 18 this March, & life just proceeds to hit me like a truck. To be fair, again, it’s been doin’ that for many many years now; it just hits in different ways as well, now that I’m 18. So there’s that.

~ Had my first pelvic exam yesterday (May 27, 2022). Surprised I didn’t push it off more. Wanted to, especially with my trauma & all; but we were able to somehow manage it. Came home super exhausted, & ended up a little out of it & upset/exhausted, hours later. Ended up just tryin’ to sleep it off. Worked decently enough, I suppose; considerin’ woke up in a decent enough mood to go to our other appointment today. We thought that the exam would’ve made it too hard to go to our CT scan. For roughly a week or two after our first appointment (with the new gyno), we ended up havin’ a bit of an episode, dissociated a lot, & essentially shut everyone out. So we thought that it would’ve gone the same with this second gyno appointment. So I guess we’re proud of ourselves.

~ If anyone is readin’ these logs & is confused ‘bout the formattin’, let me explain. These logs will most likely be formatted with both singular & plural acknowledgments. (We, Me, I, Us, Etc.) We won’t go into much detail, as it is pretty upsettin’ & confusin’ to talk ‘bout; but very long story short, we might have some form of a dissociative disorder. Not entirely sure, as we are currently in the process of seein’ a psychiatrist. As well as talkin’ to a therapist. To clarify as to why we use both as well, again, without much detail; I (lynx) am fine with usin’ singular acknowledgments, but the headspace members like to also use plural acknowledgments, so they can be recognized as well. Again, our headspace & our problems with this all is very confusin’ & upsettin’; so chances are we won’t be goin’ into much further details. I just type what is bein’ thought in the current moments; thus why we switch off as well. Also, we tend to use a LOT of commas & semicolons. So apologies if it’s too much.

~ Been talkin’ to my current therapist for probably 2 years, maybe?? I can’t remember. Our memory was already bad, but it has since gotten extremely worse over this past year. It’s bad. It’s both long & short term. Anyways, besides our points. We’ve been in therapy since 7th grade; so probably ‘bout 5 or so years?? I’m not good with math, so pardon me. She’s (my therapist) is pretty great. She’s been the best therapist I’ve had, probably??

~ Been dealin’ with way too many problems lately (which will probably be discussed in further logs). It’s been a lot to handle. Life was already hard, but these past couple years have been absolute hell for me. I’d like just an hour of ACTUAL peace. We’re so exhausted, both physically & mentally.

~ Would like to type WAY more, & explain more; as we have a lot to say. But unfortunately, we’re too exhausted right now. Gotta love mental illness, shit health, & chronic fatigue. /s

~ Chances are that there is spellin’ & grammatical errors. We don’t care at this point. We don’t feel like rereadin’ this log; so we probably won’t make too many edits to it. If there’s any confusion, we can clear it up. I’m just exhausted right now; not entirely sure if Imma make these logs once daily, once every other day, once a week, or if I’ll even possibly post multiple some days. We’ll see. My brain is pretty foggy right now; writin’ more probably isn’t the best idea. So yeah. We’re done for now. Hopefully this doesn’t come off as too much of a nonsensical mess. 

~ Signin’ Off,

Lynx

#lynxitid

[spooderboyandtincan]

You're Gonna Miss Me When I'm Gone

Chapter 2

There’s a spider on the ceiling.

Peter can barely make out its eight gangly legs through a blur of tears. He feels some sort of bond with it- not only because of the DNA they share- but because they’re both alone. Then again, the spider has probably spent its entire life in this room, and Peter’s only been here- on a whole different continent- for a good couple of hours.

Maybe it’s just the jet lag. According to literally anyone who’s known him at all- he gets adorably grumpy when he hasn’t gotten his beauty sleep (Tony’s words, not his.)

Who does he think he’s kidding? He’s homesick, he’s alone, and he really, really misses Tony. Misses him as in the his heart is literally being torn apart sort of missing. He wishes he’d considered how his severe separation anxiety might play a part in this when he’d still had a choice.

Peter chokes on a whine- the one that forces its way out of his throat until he’s full on sobbing and gasping for breath.

He scrambles for his phone on the nightstand. He needs Tony, he needs him, like a fish needs water. He fumbles with the lock screen and desperately taps on Tony’s icon (a picture of Tony holding a proudly displaying a mug that reads “Number 1 Iron Dad.”) It rings once, twice-

“Pete? How’s it going, kiddie?” Tony’s voice, so gentle, so full of love and concern- he already knows something’s wrong, of course, because his Dad Senses are off the charts- makes the tear in his heart rip open.

“Tony,” he sobs. “Tony. I don’t- I can’t, I can’t do this. I wanna go home, Tony.”

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay Petey, breathe for me okay?” He can hear, just barely over his sobs, that Tony is pacing, can hear that his breathing is just a bit too fast, and Peter feels awful for freaking him out, but just can’t stop crying.

“‘M so sorry,” he wails, “‘M so sorry. I-I wanna go home, I want you Tony.” He grasps his pillow tightly and buries his face in it, trying to stifle his sobs, pretending that Tony is there, wrapping his arms around him, kissing his hair, rocking them back and forth.

“I know, baby, I know,” Tony croons, “Everything’s gonna be okay, we’re okay. Right now I just need you to take a deep breath, buddy- in, two-three, out, two-three, okay?” Tony demonstrates for him, taking exaggerated inhales and exhales, which are probably benefiting him as much as they are Peter. “You’ve got this, Pete, I know you do.”

“I miss you, Tony,” Peter whispers after a few seconds of shaky breathing. “I wanna go home.” He feels so immature, begging Tony to fly across the Atlantic in the dead of night just because he’s a little homesick.

Tony, however, seems to consider his request very seriously. “Do you want me to fly out? I could be there in a few hours.”

Peter almost laughs, imagining Tony arriving to the hotel at daybreak, dressed only in sweatpants and a stained AC/DC t-shirt. It’s actually not a bad idea- Tony could act as a chaperone, they could explore the city together, make another precious memory.

“Yeah, um, that-that would be great, Tony,” he sniffs, wiping the wetness of his cheeks. “A-are you sure? I don’t wanna, like, make you, there’s probably Iron, um, Iron Man things, I don’t-”

“Pete, listen to me,” Tony interrupts, voice again so impossibly gentle. “Nothing- nothing- is more important to me than you, understand? I’m here for you. Always”

Peter smiles wetly, relaxing back into the covers, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I know. Tony?”

“Yeah, bud?

“Can-can you, um, talk? Please?”

“‘Course I can, Pete. What about?” Tony says fondly. The idea that his voice can bring such comfort to this sweet kid makes him feel all… schmoopy.

“Anything. I just… wanna hear your voice, s’all.” He tugs the covers up and curls into a ball, resting the phone on the pillow next to his ear.

“I’ve got you, bud,” Tony says. I miss you too. “Oh, you’ve gotta know what DUM-E did today….”

Peter feels himself relaxing as Tony talks about his day. It’s not just the words that soothe him, but the familiar sound of his warm voice that’s full of such love and affection. His thoughts begin to wander as he drifts into a barely conscious haze, but the voice remains steady and present in his mind.

Tony is quick to notice that Peter is on the precipice of slumber and wakefulness, and is just as quick to provide the last bit of reassurance Peter needs to fall asleep. “Sweet dreams, buddy. I love you,” he murmurs.

Just before Peter slips away, he finds himself slurring, “Love you too.”

Tony stays on the call for a solid ten minutes after Peter conks out, listening to the steady whoosh of his breathing against the speaker. Before he finally makes himself hang up, he whispers a quiet, “‘Night, Petey. I’ll be there before you know it.” Tony leaves for the airport at daybreak, not able to spend another second in that horribly empty penthouse. The absence of Peter’s presence is tremendously obvious, and Tony finds himself desperately trying not to imagine the unimaginable.

~~~~~

With a pilot on-call 24-7, and without the hassles of a public airport, he’ll be back with Peter around early afternoon.

Thank god.

He steps out of the Cadillac, barely noticing the blistering wind and the tiny snowflakes biting at his cheeks in his haste to board the plane. He greets the pilot- Allison, he thinks- with a nod, but she gestures to stop when he moves towards the stairs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark!” she says over the howling wind. “We just can’t fly in this weather!”

To hell with that, Tony thinks. “When’s it letting up?”

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Stark,” Allison says apologetically. “Not for a few days at least.”

Tony activates the suit with a simple tap of his watch, the nanobots rushing over him within seconds. Allison gasps and jumps back, gaping as he rockets into the air.

He’s been flying for a good 50 seconds before a neon red warning lights up the HUD.

“Boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y says, tone filled with caution. “The wind is blowing at a speed of 78 mph. I must advise that you return to the ground immediately, or you run the risk of losing control of the suit.”

Tony curses loudly. Just his luck, really. “How high is the risk?”

“89%, boss.”

“So, not all that bad,” he chuckles.

Then, F.R.I.D.A.Y reminds him how devastated Peter would be if anything happened to him.

Tony returns to his car on foot and pulls out his phone to call Peter.

~~~~~

Peter basks in the sunlight outside of a bustling café, sipping from a cup of hot chocolate. He’s ordered a chocolate croissant, and added the tasteless protein powder Tony and Bruce had synthesized to keep up with his spidey metabolism to his mug. Despite the jet lag, he’s eager to explore the city and it’s merits, his enthusiasm only growing knowing that Tony will be here within a few hours.

Feeling pleasantly full, Peter leans back in his chair- it’s an armchair, on a stool, and it’s driving him nuts, he loves it- and beams at Ned, who lounges next to him in an identical chair. “Dude,” he says.

“Dude,” Ned agrees.

Peter is grinning, Ned is grinning, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, life is sweet-

Peter’s phone rings.

His first thought is that Tony’s plane has crashed.

His second is one of relief when he realizes it’s Tony who’s calling him.

His third is that his plane has crashed, and Tony’s calling him, mortally wounded, to say goodbye.

Ned stares at him, taking in the panicked look on his face, and mouths You good? Peter shakes his head and scrabbles for his phone.

“Pete?” Tony says as soon as he’s answered. He sounds fine, at least. “Hiya.”

“Are you okay?” Peter asks first, because he knows that even if Tony sounds like he’s fine, that doesn’t mean he is.

“Yeah. Yeah, Petey, I’m just fine, I promise,” Tony assures him. Peter relaxes in his chair, flashing Ned a quick thumbs up, because knows Tony would never lie to him, especially not if he was hurt. “How’re you doin’?”

Peter’s face lights up. “Oh, great! There are like, dogs everywhere here, even in the restaurants, and I saw this German Shepherd eating like- dog ice cream or something? And I got this super good chocolate croissant where we’re having breakfast. Y’know, I really thought the jet lag would be super bad but I’m not like, tired at all yet!”

“Aw, buddy, that’s great, I’m glad you’re havin’ a good time,” Tony says, voice dripping with fondness. “You’re drinking enough water, staying hydrated and all that, right?”

“Yup! Are you?”

Tony scoffs. “‘Course I am. Hafta set a good example n’ shi- stuff.” Peter snorts. He knows Tony does his best not to curse around his- and he quotes- “young, unsullied ears" but he ends up failing quite a lot.

“Which reminds me bud, how’s Ted?” Peter’s best friend’s health has pretty much no correlation with cursing, which makes the teen think that Tony has a specific reason for asking about him. He decides not to bring it up though.

“It’s Ned,” he sighs in mock frustration. And he’s good, he’s right next to me! I guess I didn’t tell you yesterday, but the hotel guy put us into two different rooms ‘cause they had extra or something and we didn’t realize ‘til we got to our rooms.” He sighs again then, for real, his good mood evaporating.

Tony’s Dad Senses pick up on it instantaneously. “Not ideal, huh?” he says gently, which earns him a small laugh from the kid. “D’you want me to talk to them?”

Peter nods sheepishly, then realizes Tony can’t see him. “Yeah. Thank you,” he says in a small voice, embarrassed that the genius is going to all this trouble just because he’s a little lonely. “Are you gonna be here soon?” he asks then, because he misses Tony, misses him just like he knows Tony is missing him.

Tony clears his throat. When he speaks, the guilt in his voice could rip him in half. “About that, buddy, well- Jesus, Pete, I’m so sorry. The, uh, the wind is too dangerous for me to fly over, and it’s not letting up ‘til around Monday. I’m so sorry, kiddo.”

Peter’s heart sinks. “Oh,” he says numbly.

He hears Tony lurch up. “Hey, Petey- shit, I’m so sorry, buddy. I- you know what, fuck it, I’ll fly over anyway, I-”

“No! No, I’m okay, I’m fine!” Peter says, wincing silently at the forced cheeriness in his voice, and knowing that Tony has seen right through.

“Hey, hey, buddy, it’s okay, I’ll be perfectly safe-”

“You can’t,” Peter pleads, desperate to keep Tony safe. “Please, Tony, you can’t, you’ll crash, or-”

“Whoa, Petey, deep breaths,” Tony interrupts, voice gentle. “I’m right here, I’m fine, you hear me?” He waits for Peter’s breathing to resume a steady rate, then says, “Bub, I won’t fly over if it’s not safe, I promise.”

Peter sighs. He’s relieved beyond belief that Tony is keeping both feet on the ground where he’ll be safe- he better be- but he misses the billionaire more than ever.

“And hey, who knows, maybe the wind’ll let up in a few hours!” Tony chuckles. Sobering a little, he says, “If the weather is on schedule, I’ll be there on Monday, 6 am, sharp.”

Peter prays he will. “I miss you, Tony,” he mumbles- he feels childish, knowing that he’s just begged the man to stay in New York, and now is just making him more miserable knowing that he’s miserable.

“I miss you too, Petey,” the genius murmurs back, voice filled with sorrow.

“Peter!” The phone nearly flies out of Peter’s hand as Mr. Harrington taps on his shoulder. He gasps a little, and though his teacher doesn’t seem to notice, Tony sure does, his gentle voice turning harsh with barley contained panic. “Who was that, Pete? Are you okay?”

“Um-” he tries.

“Come on, now! The bus is almost here, I can see it around the corner!” Mr. Harrington says loudly, and abruptly struts off, frantically waving down the bus that is already stopping.

“Peter!” Tony exclaims.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it was just Mr. Harrington,” he rushes to reassure him. Tony breathes out a heavy sigh of relief. “Uh, the bus is here, I- I have to go.” He hurries to catch up with his best friend.

“I love you,” Tony says. “I love you so much, Pete, stay out of trouble, be safe.”

He doesn’t want to say goodbye. Neither of them do.

“I love you, Tony,” says Peter. “I’ll be safe, don’t worry about me!”

And with that, the call ends.

#wip #chapter 2 #peter parker #tony stark #protective tony stark #worried tony stark #anxious peter parker #irondad #spiderson #roger harrington #ned leeds #anxiety #anxious thoughts #spider-man #iron man #st*rkers dni

[designatedbreadbox]

Hey! I just wanted to tell you that I loved your little headcanons for Mammon, Beel, and Belphie. I was just wondering, and you don't have to do it whatsoever if you don't wanna, but the brothers with a Teen!Mc. I've tried to find some but it's actually kinda hard to. Just platonic stuff would be nice. Have a great day and be sure to drink plenty of water and sleep. Keep up the good work!

thanks darling for the note; i have been drinking more water recently actually. 😝😀

Teen!MC w/ Lucifer, Mammon, + Belphie

feelin braindead so im doin these 3

Lucifer

maaaaaammoooooonn..........?

alreafy smells his brother's schemes

sets up house rules for you?

do you follow them? depends

after he warms up to you, he is also protective when with you

doesnt scold you but will give a very small talk

treats you like a sibling

also spoils you but very lowkey

proud of whatever you accomplish

like a dad vibe

diavolo help him if your a prankster. if you are, he will give you multiple chores as punishments and moniters that you do them

you would be ironically a blessing if you werent. enjoys time with you if you arent since he needs moments of calm once in a while

Mammon

huh?

a teen?

great, someone whos havin hormonal changes

ignore you for the most part but once he warms up to you

grrrr bark bark bark arf grrrrr no touchin his human grrrrr fuck off bruh arf arf

self employed bodygaurd

if ur a younger teen anyway

if ur older he has some expectation that you can handle yourself but doesnt take any risks

takes you everywhere w him

spoils you? spoils you

guess whos card got declined.....

doesnt regret it actually

treats u like a kid despite previous expectations

can and will use you to some degree to get money

lik3 "here, you take this duffle bag and RUN"

Belphegor

assumed you were an adult when lucifer told him bout you

felt guilty about using you to get out of the attic when you poked your head in from curiosity

oh, the love he once had for humans.......

well whatever; the past is in the past and nothing much changes as he played you like a fiddle

he tries so hard making it up to you after......the incident..

VERY surprised you forgave him and vowed internally to never raise a fist at you again

ultimate cuddle buddy an ultimat gossip collector

diavolo help lucifer if you're a prankster....

if ur a younger teen he'll be protective of you is he's with you

if you're older, he expects you to carry him everywhere

#breadboxasking

[s-creations]

Return the Flames - Chapter 6

All at Dead Bird Studios knew of Amos' (The  Conductor's) ability. How the owl could suddenly erupt into flames if  angered enough. When the studio first opened, Dominic (DJ Grooves) was  told that Amos had his ability under control. Nothing to worry about. No  possible loss of anything from an open flame.

A few years later however, and that control seems to have lessened to a dangerous degree.

It should have just been a simple, week long drive to fix the problem. It really should have been.

Dominic should have asked a lot more questions and should have been prepared for a twist ending.

_________________

Fandom: A Hat in Time   Rating: General Audience   Relationships/Pairings: The ConductorXDJ Grooves   Warnings: Eventual depictions of violence, slow burn relationship, named characters, attempt of an accent, being hunted down, a race against time (sort of).

Another dinner, this one with a more pastel color scheme. For some reason. Dominic and Amos claimed a booth tucked away in the back, away from everyone, in hopes they could talk without being overheard. 

Amos was absolutely exhausted. Wanting nothing more than to lay his head down and pass out. It was a bit ironic that for being dangerously hot for so long, he was now freezing. And it was painful. Like pins and needles sticking him in different areas. Probably feeling like this while his body attempted to recover from their crash. He really wished the flame would return. That he could just curl into the closest corner and escape this nightmare for just a little while. 

“Amos...we need a plan.”

Except Dominic kept pulling him back to the problem at hand. Which was needed. Amos just didn’t want to. “We need ta figure out how those peck necks knew about…”

The penguin sighed softly. “I think all we need to worry about for that is knowing that they know. And they’re hunting us down now because of this. Do you think they knew where we’re going?”

“If they knew about the Phoenix flame, I wouldn’t put it past them. They found us really fast after that first dinner.”

“So, our original, direct path is no longer an option. We’ll probably have to make a new, longer path to get to the mountains. Anything to keep them away from us. We’ll just need to make sure you’re alright to stay away for that much longer. Ah, there’s also the issue of provisions and transportations. Thank goodness our wallets survived with us. I would say bus for traveling. But that would take way too long and we’d be trapped if they find us again. So, a rental car would be our best bet. We’ll also need to contact the studio. Let them know we’re going to be gone for a lot longer than originally expected…”

Amos just stared as Dominic kept pulling up the major points they had to worry about. As the list kept growing, the owl felt his resolve break down further. As if he was suddenly realizing how much danger they were in. At the moment they weren’t being chased, they were patched up and food was on the way. Now, with the adrenaline not pumping as much as it was before, Amos’ mind was free to panic over their current situation. 

Someone was hunting him down. Because of what he was. And he put Dominic directly in the line of danger because of this. All because of him. He alerted the authorities because he wasn’t able to control himself. Because he was a danger to everyone he gets near. 

“Amos?”

The owl jumped, attention going from Dominic’s worried face down to his clenched hands lying on the table. “What.”

“You’re shaking.”

Was he?

“Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong- are ya really gonna ask me that after our plunge off the side of a cliff?”

“I don’t think we were up that high.”

“We almost died Dominic! Because I’ve been marked as enemy-number-one of some peck necks. With you as the unwilling accomplice.” 

“Unwilling?”

“Ya didn’t know it would lead ta this when you agreed ta take me. Ya shouldn’t be involved.”

“You didn’t know this would happen either. I became involved when I plowed those crows over with my car. We’re in this together.”

“But ya shouldn’t be! I should have found a way around this that didn’t involve anyone else. This is my problem. I should be fixin’ this on my own.” 

Just with everything else in his life. It was how he’s always operated. He learned how to fight, dealt with his ex leaving, his mother passing away, maintained his train, paid for his film equipment, raised Amelia, put her through college, started saving up for the grandchildren to get them through college as well. 

Everything. Everything he did alone. 

So why did he suddenly feel as if he needed help with this? He should have been able to figure out a solution on his own. 

Amos stilled when Dominic reached over and gently grabbed the owl’s balled up hands. So stunned, he allowed the penguin’s hands to properly slip into his. 

“I’m happy I’m here to help you.”

“How...can ya possibly say that?”

“Because I would be tearing my hair out with worry if I wasn’t with you. Over what could have been happening to you.”

“People are tryin’ ta kill us.”

“Then I’m even further relieved to be here and helping.”

Amos wasn’t sure what to say to that. Attention returning to their clasped hands, the owl felt his heart starting to pick up its pace. The familiar warmth returning to become a comforting presence. Dominic didn’t seem to be letting go soon, did Amos want him to? He realized he didn’t. Dominic’s feathers were smooth to the touch, like silk. And seemed to be a cooler temperature than Amos’ unnatural heat. 

“Um, sirs? Your meals?”

Amos quickly pulled away as the server made their presence known. His feather fluffed up in embarrassment while Dominic gave an easy smile. “Thank you, Darling.”

“O-Oh, of course. No problem.” The server was now flustered. Giving their own smile back as they placed the plates down, departing shortly after.

“Should we make our new plan.” Amos grumbled as they were left alone again. 

“Right, well, transportation first. We need to rent a car.”

“You mentioned something about a bus?”

“Yes, but I don’t think that would be best. We need to control our speed and our direction at will. A bus leaves too many variables that we can’t control. Which worries me. So, I think the car is, again, our best option.”

“Alright… You also made mention of changin’ our route?”

“To try and throw them off. It took them two days to find us. And that was when they had a guess as to how far we were into our journey. That tells me they’re aware of where we’re going. If we change our path, hopefully we can throw them off and sneak by them when we finally reach the mountains.”

“If we can sneak in.”

“We’ll figure it out. If we’re moving our route, we need to inform everyone that we’re going to be gone longer than expected.”

“We also need provisions. We kind of...lost all our stuff.” 

“We have enough paper money to pay for what we need at the moment. Lucky us.” Dominic laughed softly. 

“Yeah...lucky…”

“Is everything alright gentlemen?” The server returned, their attention on the untouched plates. Amos didn’t verbally respond, instead picking up his fork and digging in. 

“Sorry, we’ve just been so engrossed in our conversation. Would you actually be able to help us out with something Darling?”

“Oh, sure!” Amos rolled his eyes at how eager the server sounded. 

“We’re in need of a rental car and a possible clothing store.”

“There are more, larger stores and a rental place further into town. You should be able to get what you need there.”

“Thank you, you’ve been extremely helpful.” 

Amos grumbled as he put his full focus on the food in front of him. Attempting to block out the sickening ‘flirting’ before him. It made his stomach roll uncomfortably. 

He couldn’t tell if it was because he hated seeing such a blatant display in public. Of it he was upset because Dominic wasn’t looking at him anymore. 

____________________________

“How much longer are you going to be gone?”

Amos really didn’t like how uneasy Amelia sounded. “Just a few extra days, nothin’ more.”

“Are you sure that’s a smart idea? Do you...will you have enough time?”

“I’ll be fine, don’t you worry. This was Dominic’s idea actually. Says I need ta ‘relax’ or somethin’ crazy like that.”

“Well, if it’s coming from Grooves, it sounds reasonable.”

“Watch yerself young lady.”

Amelia laughed softly. “Please just take it easy dad.”

“I will. I am. How’s it goin’ on your end?”

“Oh, good…”

“...Did...Did ya have another episode?”

“Yeah. But it wasn’t that bad. I’m fine, really. Just tired.”

Amos gripped the phone receiver a little harder. “Are ya goin’ ta see Dr. Fula?”

“Dad-”

“If ya had an episode, she needs ta be aware.”

“And she was, we called her.”

“Does she want ta see ya?”

“No, in fact, she said I was improving!”

“How? Yer still havin’ them!”

“But this was not as serve as my previous ones. And I recovered faster, and on my own.”

“But ya still had one.”

“Dad, you need to unclench your jaw and release whatever's in your other hand.”

With a huff with some smoke unfurling from his mouth, Amos pulled his hand away from the side of the phone booth. Wincing from the newly created dent in the metal. “Amelia…”

“No, listen to me. I am fine. I’m home, safe and happy with the kids. Grace is staying with me. And a legion of medical professionals are on speed dial. Now I need you to just focus on getting yourself better, okay?”

“...Okay.”

“I know you’ll hate me for saying this, but listen to Grooves. He’s there to help you.”

“But-”

“Swallow your pride and let him help. Please.”

“...Alright.”

“Get better and I’ll see you soon dad. The kids miss you! Can’t wait to see pawpaw again.”

“Tell them I miss them too.”

“Be safe dad. I love you.”

“Love ya too, Amelia.” Amos hung up, letting out a sigh as he leaned against the pay phone. He looked over to Dominic, who was using the furthest phone in the line. 

The penguin was calling the secretary to let him know they were going to be gone longer. Which Dominic was really leaning into the fact the message needed to be pasted along to all the workers. How they both would be coming back. 

Bu̱t͙ tha̦ṱ’̨s͙ no̱t tr̥ue͙,̝ i͜s̙ it̼?͕ Yo̳uͅ’̨re n̺ot ex̖p̱e̻cting̖ t͉o c̝ome̖ back͍ fṛo̭m t̻h̘i̬s̟.

Amos swallowed weakly. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he moved away from the phones and turned towards the street. 

A̟lwa̻ys̨ t̺h͔e̞ sa̞m̤e̠ fo͈r͉ y̦ou. Eͅx̱p̼e̞ct̝ th̺e͓ worͅsṱ. Be͜c̘ause th̤aṱ’̮s͚ a͍ḽl͎ t͢ha̝t͢ is to b̢e̖ e̦xp̗ect͔ed of̹ y̳ou. Th͟e͇ a̗bs͜olu̱te̹ w͓o͢r̖st̝.

Sitting on the curb, Amos crossed his arms over his knees, chin resting on top of them. His ears were pressed against the top of his head, remaining focused on the pavement of the road. 

J͈us̬t a̯d̻mi̡t̤ it̯:̺ you’r̢e d̩yiͅn̢g. Yo̯u’ve k͈nown t��his fo͜r̗ a w̤h̨i͉ḷe. Y̙et̳ yo̟u̼ ke̥ep̙ g̗i͙vi̯n͇g th̰i͕s se̘ns͇e̘ o̖f͟ hop͖e͇ to yo͈u̱r daug͙h̳ter th͜a͜t̡ y̢ou’ll͖ c̦o͜m͟e̩ b̖a̢ck.̟ How͢ seͅl͔fis̩h of̢ ỵo̮ṷ. N̗ot̫ eve̝n g͎i̞vi̲n͍g͔ ḫe͚r͔ a cha̢nc̘e to̭ h̩a̩ve͢ p̩ro̭p͍e͙r c͚l͕os̝ur̠e̥.

“Amos.” Dominic’s voice broke through, a hand resting gently on the owl’s shoulder. 

“Finally pass the message?”

The penguin nodded as he sat down. “I’m hoping it’s actually passes along.”

“We really need ta replace him.”

“We do…”

“...But we aren’t.”

“Probably not.”

Amos huffed, a smile being pulled onto his face. “As long as we have that cleared up.”

“Mmm… Were you able to talk to Amelia?”

“Aye…”

“Does...Does she know what this could lead to?”

“No. She doesn’t need to know.”

“Amos-”

“She has enough on her plate ta deal with. This is my problem.”

“But if your-”

“We need to go. If we want ta keep ahead o’ those government peck necks, we’ll need that car” Amos stood, heading towards where their server had pointed them. Dominic gave a look of disapproval to the retreating back. But couldn’t really disagree as he knew time was not on their side. 

So, even though the penguin wanted to reprimand Amos for leaving his daughter in the dark, Dominic remained quiet. One problem at a time. And they had agents to avoid. 

#A Hat In Time #discotrain #the conductor #dj grooves #s-creations #fanfiction #ahit conductor #ahit dj grooves #Multi-Chapter

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

January 3rd or One's Beginning is another's end (Daughters of Darkness)

This passage contains potentially: Explicit Language, Depictions of Violence (including mentions of blood), Smoking, Slang and maybe some bad translations.

Summary: An introduction to the world of the Daughters of Darkness, through the eyes of series protagonist Kirby 'Gluttony' Lucifarian. The first day and night, from her perspective, of them working for the WWF.

Kirby's POV:

Tuesday. The first day of being 'on the job', Tuesday the third of January 1984. Damien got us into the WWF. … Damien, managed to get us into the quickest rising wrestling promotion, popularity wise. To be honest with you, Damien's given us free reign to get to know people, for now. I don't know anyone here. I've heard of people here, such as the most famous giant in the world, and … Hogan.

I'm not here because I earned it, I'm here because I'm a necessity for the team. That's how I view it. That's how I've always viewed it. Vickie needed someone to make fun of and, well, I'm the easiest choice. Then, in the midst of a darker path of thought becoming clearer in my mind...

WHAM

Both me and the figure I waltzed into thudded to the floor, "Oh, my good lord. I'm so sorry are you o..."

I looked at the figure before me, taking in how much trouble I had created in the last three seconds.

Taller than myself.

Head covered by a wild afro.

Around double my weight.

André.

André the giant.

Flat on his arse … because of me.

Oh … Shit.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle…"

I could tell he was searching for a name but didn't know it. Too frightened to even speak I glanced away. I noticed his shadow move.

"Mademoiselle?"

His footsteps came closer, he sounded … worried, as if he didn't want me to get fired for this.

"Mademoiselle?"

He picked me up, not off the ground, but so I could stand. I whispered out a small 'thank you', or rather 'merci'. His hands still on my shoulders, he smiled sweetly and nodded, as if to beckon forth more words from me.

"I'm Kirby, or rather, Gluttony. I'm new around here."

André grinned, putting his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer before stopping upon seeing how much taller than every other woman in the company I am.

"Are you, uh …" he searched for the words

"A giant, yes, technically a giantess."

I feel I should summarise the next hour or so, but, André took me on a tour of the backstage area and we talked, about everything. Within an hour I had gained a new friend, a genuine friend, someone who didn't care about my height or looks. I know the only reason he didn't care is because he knows what it's like to be stared at just because you aren't 'normal'.

By the time André's tour had ended it was time for Vickie and Damien's interview with Mean Gene, which I was to attend. I said a goodbye to André and rushed off to perform my usual role.

The Enforcer, or rather, the intimidation device, that's my role in this group, to scare people, that's all I do. Before joining the group I was part of another group back in England, The Celtic Warriors, I was part of a championship winning tag team. Now what am I, a damned intimidation device, a human scare tactic.

The Interview:

Gene's first question for us, actually, Damien and Vickie (whilst I stood behind them and looked 'menacing'), was 'How are you doing so far?'

Damien began, "You know something, Gene, my girls have yet to have a match, but we are doing absolutely fine. In shape, ready to rock, ready to roll. Gene, every one of the Daughters of Darkness are doing fine."

Vickie followed suit, "Just look at us," She gestured to me and then herself, "Don't we look marvellous, Gene."

Gene smirked, "You could say that again, miss?"

"Pride, though you can call me Vickie."

Damien glared at the smaller man, almost as if he was daring him to try and flirt with her.

Gene readjusted and focused in on the prospect of new women in the WWF and the possibility of more matches. "Uh hum, yes, now how soon do you girls think you'll be seeing a match on the cards?"

"Soon, Gene, Soon." Vickie stated, ending the interview by walking off.

The first night after 'work' was surprisingly normal, Damien and Vickie went off in their rental car, taking Holly and Eli with them whilst the rest of us stood around backstage for a while.

Billie brought a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her purse, lighting one up and walking over to me, sitting down on a box placed near by and blowing the smoke away from me she spoke up.

"What's up with you, Tall-ass."

"Thinking."

"Dangerous pastime hermana."

"I know, hermana"

"You collect phrases, don' cha?"

"They may come in handy, Billie, one day."

"You going to the gym tomorrow?"

"Of course. Gotta train. Gotta … gotta settle in somehow, right?"

"Right, mi hermana, I'll see you around, alright?"

"See ya, Billie."

She waved back at me as she walked away.

Billie was the only person who knew that I 'collected' those little phrases that seem like nothing until spoken. Language isn't my strongest aspect, more often than not I'm silent and I try to avoid other peo-

"Hey! watch where you're walking man!" I yelped out, shocked back into the present moment. Instantly regret flooded my mind as I realised who had barged past me to get out of the building.

Big John Studd.

One of the most disrespectful 'giants' in the world of wrestling. famous for being the one man who pisses André off more than anyone else, including the Iron Sheik.

He sneered back a quick, "Who gives a fuck." and continued to stroll away.

That … that fuckwit. Who does he think he is. I felt a gentle hand place itself on my shoulder. I turned, expecting to see Eli or P.G, I was face to, well, chin with André.

"Forget about him," He started, with that same sweet, friendly smile from earlier, "Damien said you may need a ride back to the hotel. I don't recommend you walk back now, too dark out for a young lady such as yourself."

The way his R sounds turned into faint W's and he missed off or faintly implied H's was calming. Almost in the same way that hearing a parents voice would calm a child after a nightmare.

"Oh, uh, it's okay André, I was going to get a taxi."

He nodded in response, somehow both downhearted and curious, as if he knew that I was either lying to him or if I did get a taxi, the immense pain my back would be in the following day. André sauntered off, leaving me, once again by myself.

I don't mind being alone, in fact most of my life I have been alone, always the outcast, it was only when I got into wrestling that it started to change.

I picked up my bag and started walking, buttoning up my shirt up to the top of my chest, my near-neon orange shirt covering down to my mid-forearm, hiding any noticeable tattoos, except the one on my wrist, when I turned eighteen, I got a small, runic 'R' on my right wrist, in remembrance of my uncle Rory, the tallest of my dad's brothers.

It took about an hour to get to the hotel, an hour of walking through a city I'm not familiar with, when I eventually got to the hotel I went straight to my room and locked myself in. All alone, I could practice or train if I wanted, so I did.

I took off my black shirt, shoes and belt and I stood in the middle of the hotel room and practiced punching, then I switched to doing my warmups and working out, push-ups, planks, squats. By the time I finished it must've been around midnight, maybe one or two am. I got some sleep, waking up at six, getting changed into some fresh workout gear and headed straight to the gym.

You meet all sorts of characters at a gym, or so I've been told. Back in England I would go to my parents house and use our home-made gym to work out. Not an option that I have anymore, however, the moment I got into the gym, I felt like I was in a whole new world, as if I was just getting into the business all over again. I scanned for any faces that I knew, Mr Fuji, Tonga Kid, Sgt Slaughter, Don Muraco, Lou Albano, Iron Sheik, Freddie Blassie, Tito Santana, Jimmy Snuka, Bob Backlund, Gene and Pat, David Schultz, and … who is that?

I walked over to David and this mystery guy, nodding at David and heading to the heavy bag next to them.

"Mornin' Gluttony, André's been talkin' about ya."

"Oh really, Mr Schultz?" I tried to keep my breath noises to a minimum as I continued to hit the bag.

The mystery guy snickered, quickly shutting up after Schultz glared at him.

"C'mon girl, you know you can call me David. An' yeah," He stopped punching and instead leaned on the heavy bag in front of him, forcing the other guy to hold it still "Giant's been talking about him havin' a new friend and how much he likes ya."

"He's a good man, it's good to have friends in new places. Who's your pal, David?"

He smiled and slung his arm around the shorter man, "This here, this is Roddy Piper. He's like you."

I tilted my head slightly to try and make him explain further.

"You are Scottish, right?"

"I'm a quarter Scottish. Anyway, Piper, Do you speak Gaelic?"

"Uh, no, I can play the bagpipes however." his eyes lit up slightly, a sort of mad fire behind a haze of brown or maybe dark blue.

"Well, I'll see you around I guess, I've gotta warm up for later though."

I tried to block the two men out and focus on my own workout but Piper seemed to stick around a lot longer than David. He was still there when my workout ended.

"What do you want?"

"You're a quarter Scottish, you're also a giant. How do you fight? Show me." He seemed to get more energetic the more he talked.

"Right now?"

He nodded, "Right now, c'mon."

He led me to a ring that some other wrestlers were using to brush up their skills.

From the looks of the ring, it was actually used for boxing.

Roddy entered the ring the same way as most six-foot-two guys did, through the top and middle ropes. I tested the ropes, and seeing that they had just enough slack, used them to jump over the top rope.

"I've never seen a girl do that before."

"Mistake number one, I'm a woman, not a girl. Mistake number two, you expected a giant to be normal."

He scoffed out a laugh and got ready to lock up.

We locked up and Piper hit me with a knee to the stomach.

I got him back with an Irish whip into the corner, accidentally winding him by being too stiff.

"You're gonna pay for that, lass." He snarled out, already getting pissed off.

I sized him up, trying to see how high I would have to get myself in order to dropkick him to the mat.

Piper tried to hit me with a running high knee strike but I countered with a dropkick, taking us both down to the mat and slamming my face into the mat.

The mat was a lot harder than I was used to, it felt like I had rammed my head straight into a cinderblock, I started breathing heavier than before.

I rolled over and put my arms up, making an 'X' with my forearms. Piper stopped and walked over.

"You alright?"

I shook my head.

He knelt down and pulled me up into a sitting position.

I hesitated, knowing I had to take my mask off to see what was wrong but truly not wanting to. Piper managed to unbuckle the straps of my mask and winced as he saw what was underneath. My mind went slightly mad not knowing if he was wincing at the injury I had caused myself or the fact that, compared to the rest of the D.O.D, I'm truly the worst looking, beauty-wise, that is.

Hitting my mouth so hard on the canvas of the mat below us, I had managed to hit my mask in a way that the bottom edge, which curved under my chin, cut into my flesh and made me bleed.

I put my hand up to the cut and Piper quickly held my arm by the wrist and shook his head, "Don't you dare."

By the time I received medical aid, which consisted of cleaning the cut and putting a band-aid on it, Piper had given me back my mask and asked if he could work out with me sometime. Knowing that he was currently on a different show, I said sure and we had split ways.

END OF ONE'S BEGINNING IS ANOTHER'S END / JANUARY 3RD

#Lucifarians #wrestling fic

[kylo-hen]

Saturday Morning

A/N: I started this little blurb last night at like 3 AM and then I decided I would just finish it up and post it this morning. This is a product of extreme baby fever and love for Clyde “big bear” Logan. I’m a whore for Clyde just in case anyone wanted to know

Dad!Clyde Logan X Mom! Reader

Summary: Clyde lets you sleep in while he takes care of your son for the morning. 

Warnings: FLUFF, Babies/being a mother, more fluff, a baby wrap/baby bjorn, breakfast.

     There is something to be said about sleeping in when you’re exhausted. When the weight of your eyelids slips away with each waking minute you spend in the throws of a subconscious wasteland. The sun streaming in through the window in the bedroom, long having risen and now streamed in through the thick weathered branches of the tree that twisted over the house. The bird’s song has come and gone; the worm already been stolen by those awake to take it. And through all that there was peace.

     Waking up for the first time past the suns rise was not something I was ever expecting, not with a seven-month-old baby. As I lay, still steeping in the sleep induced haze, in the sunlight cozied up in the layers of blankets I insisted on pulling out every winter I couldn’t help but feel an absolute sense of joy rush though me.

    Clyde logan was the best man I could have ever asked to spend my life with. He was uncharacteristically smooth when it came to the turbulence, I threw his way. The bad days always met with a slow and solid response of care, the worse days with gentle reminders that he would always love me, fights always ended in a calm discussion, and hardships were fought together.

    We had both wandered so long through life without a partner, spent days wondering if love was something, we would be able to treasure or if it was a distant memory we would have to forfeit to some greater and higher purpose. When I found him, I knew almost instantly that if he wasn’t the one for me there was no one out there. His tall and broad frame matched with a deep and husky southern twang made my heart flutter a million miles an hour. We married within the year.

    We wasted no time after getting married, knowing both of us were getting well into our thirties, it was time for our family to grow, and grow it did. Five months after we were officially married, we found out we were expecting, and the love only grew from there.

    I was pulled from my thoughts by the lingering smell of breakfast being made in the kitchen. Stretching out and realizing I had slept in until ten AM, an unspeakable feat for anyone who had a young child, and Clyde was letting me. My heart swelled with unspeakable appreciation for the man I loved, and with no other contemplation I rolled out of bed to greet my husband.

     Clyde was a sight to be seen, donning a pair of comfortable sweats and no shirt, with a baby wrap keeping our son pressed to his chest. The joy in my heart elevated with a deep carnal lust seeing the back muscles of the man I loved plating up some breakfast in the light of the peaceful morning. He was humming some old Elvis song as he rocked our son back to sleep. I crept up behind the pair of boys wrapping my hands around Clyde’s waist, resting my head in the divot between his sturdy shoulder blades.

    He tensed for a moment before realizing it was only me. “Scared me Darlin’” he chuckled, turning in my grasp to look at me. He leant over and gave me a quick kiss, the baby noticing his mom and beginning to squirm around in his wrap. “How’d ya sleep?”

     His iron gaze softened in my direction, waiting my response, “I slept great bubba,” His cheeks flushing at his favorite nickname, “Thank you for letting me sleep in so late.” I pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder and changed my attention to the baby kicking his legs around for attention.

    “Woah there little man,” Clyde laughed at his son about to turn a big fuss if he isn’t in his mother’s arms in the next few seconds. “Looks like little Ollie missed his Mama, Huh? Me too.” He addressed leaning down so I could pull him from the front wrap. Oliver reaching for my hair as soon as I was in his reach. Clyde watching with affection in his eyes as Ollie snuggled into my neck with a happy smile and a fistful of my hair.

     “It’s amazing how much I can sleep when I don’t have to breast feed every couple hours.” I commented in a high baby voice so Ollie thought I was talking to him. The features of his face reminiscent of his fathers above us, a striking comparison in almost every way.

    “I’m glad you got some rest Darlin, lord knows you’ve been needin’ it.” He replied, Clyde had been worrying himself sick for the last month over my rest. Making sure I was sleeping as much as we could allow while I was still breast feeding but as soon as Ollie could cut back Clyde wanted me to take it easy. His worry extending to all avenues of his life but he never seemed to worry about anything as much as he worried about Oliver and I.

     “Didn’t even hear Ollie boy wake up!” I spoke in to the boy directly, him giving me a babble in response, excited his Mama was up and ready to play this morning. “Did you wake daddy this morning? Did Ollie boy wake daddy?” I performed for Oliver.

     “Nah, Daddy wanted to have a little bit of a boy mornin’ so Mama could rest.” Clyde played along with the performative baby talk for the sake of his son. “Made breakfast for ya’ Darlin’, I’ll go get him washed up while ya eat.” He took the boy back in his arm and up the stairs of our little farmhouse leaving me to eat.

     Breakfast passed with the same peace as before but I missed the coos and conversation my boys brought. Thankfully Clyde worked diligently despite his one-armed challenge and emerged with our son donning a new onesie his aunt had dropped by with just a few days ago.

    “Look at my handsome boys!” I exclaimed as they walked into the kitchen. Clyde laughing down at his son basking in the praise of his mother. “Ollie is so handsome, just like his Daddy!” I continued on, kissing Oliver all over his face and giving the same sentiment to his father.

    “Ollie’s been makin’ a big ol’ fuss that Mama didn’t join us.” Clyde huffed out, exploring the same sentiment as his son even if he did ask for me to relax downstairs while he took care of it. I always picked out Ollie’s outfits, Clyde claiming I was the ‘fashion expert’ of the house, and Clyde preferred to take a backseat to my ‘expertise’. “He’s a Mama’s boy, that’s for damn sure.” Clyde joked.

     “Oh, I don’t think so,” I argued bringing Oliver back into my grasp and rocking him around on my hip, “He just likes havin’ his Mama and Daddy’s attention all at once.” I explained while Clyde watched with glee at his two favorite people dancing around on a Saturday morning.

     “Oh, I don’t blame ‘im for bein’ so attatched to his Mama.” Clyde explained, wrapping his arm around my waist, bringing me and Oliver to nestle on his chest. “Not when his Mama’s so cute.” He commented.

      Clydes words only served to make my heart burst more. If there was a moment I wished I could frame, a singular moment in time where everything was just right, It would be that morning in the kitchen. The same kitchen that every rushed morning out the door for work, late returns and dinners eaten in the early mornings, the hushed arguments, the cherished reconciliation, and the life that happened within those four walls. There was a little nugget of perfect that morning and no amount of life could come around and change that.

A/N: Thanks for reading another complete self indulgent piece of work lmao. Come swing by my inbox and let me know what you thought! I also take requests for your self indulgent ideas!

#Clyde logan #dad!clyde #blurb #Saturday morning #clyde x reader #Logan lucky #Fluff #baby content

[voidendron]

OC Interview: Terrin

tagged by @shanfamilydrama​ thank you! this was fun

? Name ? Ar’eonis’terrinxx. But just Terrin, please. Heh, Dad didn’t know what he was doin’ when he named me.

? Are you single ? Heh, you wish.

? Are you happy ? Yeah.

? Are you angry ? I've got a short temper, but not apologizing for it.

? Are your parents still married ? Nah, Dad never married.

NINE FACTS

? Birth Place ? Dad’s not totally sure, but kinda figures somewhere in Kaas City.

? Hair Color ? Dark blue.

? Eye Color ? I’m full Chiss - so what other color ‘sides red?

? Birthday ? No kriffin’ clue. Seriously! 

? Mood ? I’m usually in a pretty good mood, but it’ll sour damn quick.

? Gender ? Female.

? Summer or winter ? Winter. Ironically, I’m not fond of heat.

? Morning or afternoon ? Afternoon. Hate wakin’ up early.

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE?

? Are you in love ? Oh, yeah.

? Do you believe in love at first sight ? Nope. I want to see what kinda person they are, first.

? Who ended your last relationship ? Uh...both of us? *snorts* Turned out he was a kriffin’ jerk playing nice guy and didn’t appreciate havin’ his nose broken for it.

? Have you ever broken someone’s heart ? Much as I hate to say it, Torian’s when I was missin’ for five damned years.

? Are you afraid of commitments ? Nah. 

? Have you hugged someone within the last week ? Course! Torian, Mako, Blizz...

? Have you ever had a secret admirer ? *grins* Bein’ the Grand Champion? Probably.

? Have you ever broken your own heart ? No.

SIX CHOICES

? Love or Lust ? Love.

? Lemonade or iced tea ? Lemonade--the sweeter, the better. 

? Cats or Dogs ? Dogs all the way! *coos at Baby*

? A few best friends or many regular friends ? A few best friends. 

? Wild night out or romantic night in ? It’s nice to have a romantic night once in a while, but give me a party any day.

? Day or night ? Day--I just kinda want to sleep once it gets dark, heh.

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

? Been caught sneaking out ? I gave Dad plenty of gray hairs disappearing at night. He eventually got pretty good at catchin’ me.

? Fallen down/up the stairs ? ...Next question-

? Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? Yep.

? Wanted to disappear ? No. Kind’ve afraid of bein’ forgotten, actually.

FOUR PREFERENCES

? Smile or eyes ? Can’t I choose both? Fine. Smile.

? Shorter or Taller ? Taller--doesn’t take much, though! *chuckles*

? Intelligence or Attraction ? Attraction.

? Hook-up or Relationship ? Relationship.

FAMILY

? Do you and your family get along ? ‘Sides Dad--we don’t communicate much anymore, but we still get alone--I’ve got my crew. I love ‘em like family, even if we might butt heads sometimes.

? Would you say you have a “messed up life” ? ...Yeah. 

? Have you ever ran away from home ? Nah.

? Have you ever gotten kicked out ? Never by family. A cantina for startin’ a fight on the other hand?

FRIENDS

? Do you secretly hate one of your friends ? No..? “Friend” and “likin’ them” kinda have to go together, y’know.

? Do you consider all of your friends good friends ? For the most part.

? Who is your best friend ? Torian. Probably not surprising.

? Who knows everything about you ? Torian, again. I’d tell him anything.

Tagging @thedinalixlegacy​ @raven-of-domain-kwaad​ (if you want, and anyone else who wants to do it!) @kyber-heart​ I totally didn’t get two ask games mixed up and thought you were tagged for THIS one instead of the OTHER one. nope. not all all. oops-

#oc interview meme #blitz's ocs #ar'eonis'terrinxx

[just-dreaming-marvel]

NINETY EIGHT - SQUIDWARD AND THE OTHER ALIEN CREATURE

LEGACY: A Tony Stark Daughter Story

MASTERLIST

< previous

Word Count: 2,300ish

Summary: Two of the children of Thanos try to obtain the Time Stone.

Once he was sure that I wouldn’t fall over because of the onslaught of emotions, Tony walked out the doors. The sounds of screams and cars honking filled the air. He looked back through the door as the rest of us followed.

“Stay here Bailey!” He yelled.

“Not a chance!” I yelled back, continuing out the door. 

People were running passed us, in the opposite direction of the way that we were headed. I watched a woman fall at Tony’s feet. He quickly helped her up.

“You okay?” He asked. But she ignored him and continued running. A car crashed in front of me and Tony turned to watch. “Help him! Wong, Doc.”

“Go! Got it!” Bruce answered. I ran faster and caught up with Tony. He put his sunglasses on.

“FRIDAY, what am I looking at?” He demanded.

“Not sure,” she answered. “I’m working on it.”

“Hey!” Tony turned, but kept walking. “You might wanna put that time stone in your back pocket, Doc!”

“Might wanna use it,” the Doctor responded as gold bands formed over his arms.

Tony and I stopped and peaked around the corner. Tony quickly pushed us back so that we wouldn’t get hit by flying debris. We finally turned the corner and watched a huge, circular ship flying over the street. 

“FRIDAY, evac anyone south of 43rd Street, notify first responders.” Tony commanded.

“Will do,” the AI responded.

Doctor Strange did some spell over the streets, stopping the winds, and then winked at Tony. 

I could tell that Tony was begrudgingly amused for a split second. I was amused. This Doctor Strange fellow was able to put up with and throw back at our sass. We made our way closer to the ship as a beam of light came down and left two aliens in its disappearance. Tony was a step or two in front of me, with Strange to our right and the other two men to our left.

“Hear me, and rejoice,” the smaller alien said. He looked a bit like Squidward from Spongebob Squarepants, but now was not the time to be cracking jokes. “You are about to die at the hands of the children of Thanos. Be thankful, that your meaningless lives are now contributing to—“

“I’m sorry, earth is closed today,” Tony interrupted the alien. “You better pack it up and get outta here.” 

“Stonekeeper…” Squidward looked at Strange and then gestured to Tony. “Does this chattering animal speak for you?”

“Certainly not. I speak for myself,” Strange answered, stepping forward and rearming himself with some sort of mystical golden shields. 

 “You’re trespassing in this city and on this planet.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Wong arm himself too.

“It means get lost, Squidward!” Tony shouted.

“I wanted to say that first,” I muttered.

“He exhausts me,” Squidward stated. His much larger companion said something that we could not understand before he continued on. “Bring me the stone.” The larger companion dropped his huge hammer and began to make his way towards us.

“Banner, you want a piece?” Tony asked.

“No, not really,” Banner answered. “But when do I ever get what I want?”

“That’s right,” Tony responded. 

“Okay.” Bruce rubbed his hands together. “Push.” I watched as Bruce attempted to release the Hulk. Green showed up on his neck, but nothing else. As he was trying, I could feel the Hulk pushing back. He was terrified, really not wanting to fight. 

“Been awhile. Good to have you, buddy.”

“I just… I need to concentrate here for one second.” Tony turned to see Bruce struggling. “Come on, come on, man.”

“Where’s your guy?” Tony questioned in disbelief.

“I don’t know. We’ve sort of been havin’ a thing.”

“There’s no time for a thing.”

“I know.”

“Dad, he—“ I tried to interrupt so that I could get him to understand, but he just kept going.

“That’s the thing right there. Let’s go.” Tony pointed at the approaching alien. Bruce grunted loudly, but still failed to release the Hulk. Strange stared at us, unbelievingly. Tony glanced at Strange and then to Bruce. “Dude, you’re embarrassing me in front of the wizards.” 

“This isn’t about you Dad,” I angrily said, stepping forward.

“Tony, I’m sorry,” Bruce ignored my help. Either I can’t or he won’t—“

“It’s okay. Hey, stand down.” Tony looked over at Wong as he grabbed Bruce and pushed him back. “Keep an eye on him. Thank you.”

“I have him,” Wong said, stepping in front of Bruce a bit.

“Damn it,” Bruce grumbled.

The alien began running towards us and I watched as Tony pulled the strings of his jacket and tapped on his chest piece. He started walking forward as the nano particles began covering his body. He took off his sunglasses and they dissolved into the suit. (9) The alien raised his weapon and Tony quickly grew a shield to protect himself. Blasters then formed from the suit, blasting the alien back to Squidward, who gestured and deflected his companion into some cars. 

“That was so sweet, Dad!” I shouted, excitedly. I pressed the button on my bracelet and my own blue and gray suit formed around me. Bruce watched in awe.

“Where’d those come from?” Bruce wondered.

“It’s nano tech,” Tony answered. “You like it? A little somet—“ Tony is stopped by a spike coming out from the earth, throwing him upwards.

“Dad!” I shouted. We began getting attack by uprooted trees and other debris. I flew up, dodging and blasting things left and right. Wong stepped forward, shielding those still on the ground.

“Doctor Banner, if the rest of your green friend won’t be joining us…” Strange stated as he opened up a portal behind Bruce. Bruce and half a taxi fell through the portal. I blasted a flying car the alien had thrown at us as Tony appeared from behind.

“Gotta get that stone outta here, now,” Tony stated.

“It stays with me,” Strange fought back.

“Exactly. Bye.” Tony and I took off through the obstacle course of debris, trying to reach the aliens. “You need to get out of here too, sweetie.”

“I’m not leaving you—“ I was cut off by something hitting the two of us. It threw us backwards and through a building at high speed. We plowed into the ground, Tony landing against the tree and I landing a few feet away. 

“Tony, Bailey, you okay?” Bruce rushed over to Tony. “How we doing? Good? Bad?” 

“Really, really good,” Tony sarcastically answered. “Really good. Do you plan on helping out?” 

“I’m trying. He won’t come out.” 

The alien burst through the building as he spoke and threw his hammer at Bruce and Tony. 

“Hammer!” I yelled. I flew over to Bruce, knocking him out of the way as Tony began shooting energy beams at the alien. 

The alien was deflecting the beams with his shield which caused the beams to cut down the trees around us. I flew up as a beam headed our way. I began shooting at the creature also. As I was still attacking him, he knocked down Tony. The creature was about to hit Tony with his hammer but was stopped by Spider-Man. 

“Hey, man,” Peter said to the creature. “What’s up, Mr. Stark? Bailey?”

“Peter!” I greeted.

“Kid, where’d you come from?” Tony asked.

“Field trip to MoMA.” Peter is then grabbed by the creature and thrown away. He gets back up and begins webbing the alien. “What is this guy’s problem?”

“He’s from space,” I answered, still fighting off the alien.

“He came here to steal a necklace from a wizard,” Tony finished for me. 

The alien grabbed Peter and threw him again. I flew up and shot energy beams, that he kept deflecting. The creature then picked up half of the taxi and threw it my way. I dodged it before Peter caught it with his webs and threw it back at the creature. We continued on fighting the alien when seemingly out of no where, Strange passed through the park, laying on top of a broken concrete slab. He seemed to be unconscious.

“Kid, that’s the wizard. Get on it,” Tony instructed, as he created a shield to protect himself from the creature’s hammer.

“On it!” Peter shouted. We continued on fighting, trying to bring down the creature. “Uhh, Mr. Stark?” Peter nervously came through our comms a few moments later. “I’m being beamed up!” I glanced towards where the ship was to see Peter flying up.

“Hang on, kid,” Tony said as we were shooting at the alien. 

Tony got thrown and pinned to the ground and his suit began shorting out. The alien knocked me to the ground, my body hitting against a tree before I landed. The alien started running towards Tony, blades out, when a portal appeared and he ran through it. The alien then turned to come back through when Wong closed it, cutting off the creatures hand in the process. Bruce kicked it away, disgusted. Tony shook himself free of the claws that were pinning him down.  

“Wong, you’re invited to my wedding,” Tony quickly stated as he began flying towards the ship. “Give me a little juice, FRIDAY,” Tony demanded. His feet morphed together into a larger jet and his speed increased. 

I started to power up to follow him when I over heard him, “FRIDAY, power down Bailey’s suit. Don’t let her follow me.”

“Dad!” I yelled as my suit began to disappear. “I can help!” I looked up, watching Tony get smaller and smaller as he headed towards the ship. “Let me help!”

“I need you safe… FRI, unlock 17-A…” And then my comms cut out. 

I watched in horror as Peter began to free fall from the ship. But a pod reached him, the pod that held his new Iron Spider suit, and attached itself to him. I looked down and reached for my phone in my pocket and to call Tony. FRIDAY patched me and Pepper in at the same time. Pepper obvious had the same idea.

“Tony? Bailey?” Pepper was worried. “Oh my gosh. Are you all right? What’s going on?”

“Yeah, Dad, what is going on?” Anger seeped into my words.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Tony answered. “I just think we might have to push our 8:30 res, girls.”

“Why?” Pepper questioned.

“Just ‘cause I’ll… probably not make it back for a while.”

“Tell me you two are not on that ship.”

“He is. I’m not,” I answered.

“No. Please tell me you’re not on that ship,” she stated again. 

“Honey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“Come back here, Tony. I swear—”

“Please, Dad, come back,” I pleaded. “We can find a better way to get the stones and stop Thanos.”

“B… Pep…”

“Come back here right now! Come back!” And then Tony’s line cut out, leaving just Pepper and I.

“Dad?”

“Tony?”

“He’s gone…” I whispered. My heart rate became elevated and my panic set in. I fell onto my knees.

“Bailey, I need you to come home.”

“No… I can’t… N-not with out him…”

“Bailey, please…”

“I’m going to the compound. I love you Mom.” And then I hung up. Bruce made his way over and set a hand on my back.

“You need to control your breathing, Bailey,” he instructed. “If you don’t, you won’t be of any help in stopping Thanos and finding your father.” I nodded in response and held out my hand so that he could help me up. 

We walked back towards where the fight had originally began. Bruce was looking for something, I couldn’t tell what, but I also didn’t care. I absent mindedly followed him. I had just lost Tony. He willingly left. Because of my empath abilities and how close we are, I could still feel that he was alive. But it didn’t change that I was terrified that I may never see him again and mad that he left me behind. I watched as Wong opened up another portal and Bruce picked up Tony’s flip phone off the ground. 

“Where are you going?” Bruce asked Wong.

“The time stone’s been taken. The Sanctum remains unguarded,” Wong answered. “What will you do?” Bruce flipped open the phone.

“I’m gonna make a call,” Bruce replied.

I didn’t want to hear the phone call, so I used FRIDAY to call us in a jet so that we could get to the compound. Once Bruce had finished the phone call, the jet had arrived and I was already ready to pilot it. I felt that Bruce wanted to ask me questions, but I knew that he could tell that I wasn’t in the mood. When we landed at the compound, Rhodey was there to meet us.

“Bruce? Bailey!” He exclaimed, hurrying towards us. “What happened?”

“My father’s an ass,” I said as I pushed passed Rhodey, heading straight for the lab. “A selfish, superhero… And Peter’s… well he’s just as stupid.”

“Wait! Bailey!” Bruce tried.

“Leave me alone!”

They tried to get me to talk as they followed me to the lab. As soon as I was in there, I locked it up. I sat there, letting my thoughts eat away at me. Tony was my rock and I didn’t know how I was going to continue on without him. I don’t know how long I was in there before I started crying and pushing myself to some how make a larger connection with Tony, so that I could talk to him. Rhodey and Bruce had both tried to get into the lab and failed. I was still alone in the lab when part of my family finally returned home after two long years on the run.

next >

#avengers #avengers fanfiction #avengers age of ultron #age of ultron #avengers infinity war #infinity war #avengers endgame #endgame #captain marvel #Captain America civil war #civil war #Spiderman homecoming #captain america #iron man #Tony stark #Steve rogers #Tony stark fanfiction #Steve Rogers fanfiction #Tony stark x oc #Steve Rogers x oc #iron man x oc #Captain America x oc #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #fanfiction #avengers x reader #the avengers x reader #pepper potts

[theopaquemind]

Grief in all its Glory

Written: 10/08/2020

Posted 5/01/2021 - 4 years since Brandon’s passing.

Content warning: death, suicide, grief, drugs, addiction, swearing.

I recently came across a website for Australians to speak openly about grief. It was startling. Not what was said on it. But the fact that a website like that now existed. I’d never seen anything so open and frank before. What should be startling is that humans still live in this discomfort of talking about certain sadness's, bereavements, pains and anguish. The most inevitable experience is still faux pas - we all die, but talking about it is not altogether acceptable. Along the journey of life, there are other sadness’s and struggles which, once brewed in scalding waters of unsavoury conversation, now seep in tepid tolerance. For the most part, I refer to this broadly as ‘mental illness’, and while its garnered greater awareness, it is still riddled with stigma and misunderstanding. Similarly, discussions around addiction are typically soaked in the self-aggrandising dogma that this only happens to the lower echelons of society; those plagued by weaknesses that led to their inevitable misfortune. And then the doozy of ‘grief’ – talking about it makes many people uneasy; people hold an expectation that you transcend these melancholy confines in a swift enough fashion that you don’t leave them feeling uncomfortable. Yet, grief is unfortunately something every adult will likely experience at some point. Another scandalous topic is that of suicide, despite it sadly becoming an increasingly more and more common way of dying. Then there is the matter of suicide survivors – the one’s who must continue their life with a chasm formed by the absence and loss. Grief with the awareness that someone chose to die is something very staggering.

One of the things that I find most difficult when talking about mental health is that I am in part supporting a system that I do not have faith in. You can tell people that help is out there, but when it comes down to it, the mental health care system in Australia is wildly ineffective (globally, I daresay, and infinitely worse in many locations; however my experience is significantly with Australia so I’ll refrain from speaking too broadly). Worse, it can be even more detrimental than the ills that plague the human mind.

It is hard trying to get help when you need it. It is harder getting the right help. It is a battle. It is a challenge and sometimes it feels like the world is working against you. That's probably because it is, albeit not always intentionally. This is what happened to my brother, to my family, to me.

I should note that he was a very private person, with a strong distaste for the narcissistic realms of social media. I wholeheartedly acknowledge that I am possibly doing something so deeply against his wishes by speaking openly about him and the situation, but to be blunt, he lost the privilege of secrecy. Others too, may not agree with how I elect to narrate this, but from my perspective, you can’t grow awareness and fuel prevention without the discourse.

I understand that this is in part a unique occurrence that I will expand on, but because of this experience I was exposed to a great deal more stories of a similar nature where the health care system let people down. However, this isn’t an ‘all hope is lost’ memoir. To the contrary.

I have…had an older brother. His name was Brandon. He took his life at the age that I am while writing this - 29. Brandon saw mental health specialists. He did try to get better, although arguably not nearly hard enough. In fact, when I cleared out his room after his passing, I dug through the referrals and prescriptions. There was a blister pack of antidepressants. Without the other appropriate tools to recover, or at least to find a semblance of stability, anti-depressants can only do so much. By this point he had very evidently given up on these little dosages of ‘here-this-will-help-but-may-also-increase-your-risk-of-suicidal-ideation.’ Only one pill was missing. The anti-depressant was not in his toxicology report, although the post-mortem showed many, many other drugs. In clearing his room, I later read his journaling scrawls that he had found drugs that numbed his pain more effectively than anti-depressants. Some of these are ones that Brandon got hooked on due to an overzealous general practitioner. And then another general practitioner. His addiction began with prescription opioids and graduated with drugs acquired from the dark web including heroin and fentanyl, amongst other things. My family and I only found out about this after his passing. 

TOXICOLOGY:

Codeine (free)

Codeine-6-glucuronide

Diazepam

Fentanyl

Mirtazapine

Morphine (free)

Morphine-3-glucuronide

Morphine-6-glucuronide

Nordiazepam

Oxazepam

Paracetamol

Pholcodine

Quetiapine

Temazepam

Tramadol

This part isn't altogether unique. We take suppressants to deal with pain…to deal with life. A hard day at work - have a drink. Can't sleep - have a vali. Can't survive the never-ending and all-encompassing pain - take it all.

The opioid problem in the US is significant and garners a fair amount of attention. It exists here in Australia, too. That is why legislation came into effect to further regulate practitioners from prescribing them. This took place about a year after Brandon’s death. This blanket restriction isn’t an entirely curative solution. There are those that genuinely need these medications for chronic pain who now must jump through hoops to get their treatment. There are those who still have the wherewithal to find a source, even if through illegal means (queue Brandon). This form of paternalistic legislation does not solve the problem at its root – why there is a mental health epidemic; where is society failing that the individual solution appears to be a sturdy dose of numbing or a leap of faith into the dark abyss. Opioids work in a manner of escalation. A dosage that was once satisfying does less and less. So, you need more and more. Price can also become a factor, so you salvage heavier shit for a lower cost.

Brandon wound up in hospital only a few days prior to taking his life. He had collapsed in my father’s kitchen. My dad thought he was losing him right then and there. An ambulance came and he was rushed to hospital. He had 'accidentally' taken too much tramadol. During this incident, the ambulance respondents commented in front of my younger brother on the visible track marks on Brandon's arms. Brandon was released from hospital the following day. Simple as that. My father didn't know that the foreboding premonition of losing Brandon would be the stark reality a few short days later as he tried to perform CPR on his eldest son.

The ambulance workers that saw Brandon's track marks would not have consciously made the choice to neglect a person who clearly needed help. But somehow, he fell through the cracks of a less than fastidious system. In some ways, learning about Brandon's history with prescription drugs was more difficult than his actual suicide. Learning how he had been failed was, and is, harder to come to terms with than the fact that he recognised he had been let down. The thing that came as a shock to Brandon's friends (and subsequently me) was that he did not die of an overdose. He did not take his life in that way. That is something I have battled with. He made a very different sort of deliberate effort in how he left us which I may never understand. That’s suicide though – you often don’t understand and are left wondering so many things.

We won't ever know if the tramadol overdose was intentional or not, but it was explained to me by my older brother as an 'oopsy-daisy' in an email. I was overseas at that time. Ironically, I took one tramadol tablet for my flight back and found the experience horrible and was sluggish for days after. The same day that I had recovered from my singular adventure with tramadol my brother made that irreversible choice.

I was at the pub with friends when Brandon made that fateful choice to dive into that dark void. I had missed calls on my phone from my mother. I called back and didn’t receive an answer. I later found out my younger brother and mother were debating just driving straight to me in order to not have to tell me over the phone. It was my younger brother's birthday that day and I had presumed they were contacting about that. I texted back that I was currently out and tried calling again. ‘Brandon hung himself’, my mum said. I dropped to my knees on the outskirts of the bar and wailed, ‘no’. In a daze I went back to my friends, grabbed my bag mumbling that my brother had killed himself. A friend walked me home. My mother and brother arrived some period of time after. I still don't understand how my mother was capable of driving. She drove us to my dad's house where the suicide had occurred. We weren't permitted near that section of the house and the police referred to it as a 'crime scene'. We sat outside the house as a family, coming in and out of tears and shock.

At one point I had to go to the bathroom and went up around the other side of the house – the side that wasn’t deemed part of the crime scene. Through the glass I saw my brother lying on the cold stone floor with a neck brace on and a sheet pulled midway up his chest. I went to the bathroom and vomited. I stared at my face with mascara smeared everywhere and recognised that while I looked so distraught, that was possibly the most peaceful I'd seen my brother in a long, long time. I took some breaths and went back to my family. I have never really been able to leave my family since that point. I will have panic attacks if I can't reach one of them, thinking that something bad has happened. That is part of the PTSD of losing a loved one in a shocking way.

On my family's healing journey, we attended suicide survivor groups. At these I heard other tales of the health care system having failed them and/or their loved ones. One that stuck with me the most was a suicide in the middle of a hospital ward while under 24/7 suicide watch. On my personal healing journey, I've had several problematic run-ins with the health care system. To name a few:

I had a psychologist tell me that Brandon's choice to take his life in the family home was a sign that he blamed the family. Guilt is such a huge thing that follows a suicide. Psych 101 is alleviating that form of mental anguish for suicide survivors. That mental health practitioner failed at the first hurdle. Despite me having the knowledge that you cannot blame yourself, having someone - who is meant to understand the human mind, with all the complexities of grief and guilt – tell you that you are blamed is a pretty heavy cross to bear. I had found Brandon's parting note. It was on stained paper, written a long while ago. On it he said that he was sorry, but the pain was too much. A psychologist I had sat in a room with for all of 15 minutes told me that he blamed us. A sister riddled with guilt that she didn't save her brother. Brandon said a lot of things, but Brandon did not outright blame us. Still, in most ways, he did not say enough.

Sitting in anger about Brandon's introduction to prescription opioids, I had a different psychologist tell me that I shouldn't make noise because it would cause me more distress, that people can't change and the system won't change so it's best I change my view on things. That was her response to most things. No inclination to think that holding someone accountable for some of Brandon's struggles would have offered me enormous relief. One of his original GPs died two weeks prior to writing this. I honestly felt a sense of liberation but also a sense of loss, primarily because I never got to lambast them. Only last week did I learn that the best avenue would have been to make a complaint via the Health Care Complaints Commission so that this GP would not make the same grave errors. That would have potentially changed a person and a segment of the system, as well as maybe saving others from addiction. But in a system where health care providers would prefer you don't 'rock the boat' it's better you just sit quietly in your grief.

I have struggled with this loss. I wasn't close with Brandon anymore. We had a dysfunctional relationship and I had honestly largely tried ridding my life of him. Subsequently, as mentioned, I felt overwhelmed with guilt. I myself turned to ways to numb this feeling. I drank too much and partied more. I made reckless choices, acted rashly, behaved erratically. A psychiatrist put me onto medication to help me deal with these stages of grief. This is now a medication that I have been unable to get off because of the withdrawal side-effects. The mental health industry prefers a quick-fix solution such as medication. It appears as though they are making effective progress. Brandon's pain was 'effectively' dulled by opioids. My grief was 'effectively' subdued with medication rather than giving me the tools to process the grief and miss my brother in whatever way I needed to. I’ve learned the hard way, but the greatest remedy for some of the most common forms of mental illness doesn’t come in the form of a pill. It is habitually changing the way you think, how you perceive yourself, how you see the world. There are tools and techniques you can learn to make these changes, and these are not measured in milligrams or dosage frequencies. They do not have side effects. Tell a depressed person that one of the potential side effects of their anti-depressant is to experience depression and see how much hope you give that down-trodden soul.

Grief is a peculiar thing. It can come in waves. It can come in so many ways. But something I can definitively say is that you can be stronger than the grief and you can be strong enough to survive, whether the system lapses or not. I am testimony to that.

To mental health generally, in the end, only you can make the best decisions for yourself. That choice is yours. Yes, addiction can make that a whole lot harder, and the crutch can create a cyclic pattern in a self-fulfilling prophecy of defeat. A lot of external factors can impact your choices and make it more challenging to make the right decisions. But you’ve been through harder things. To climb out of those dark places is entirely within you. Sometimes you don’t have great footing to help get you out, be it the health care system, employment strife, financial burden, or friends letting you down. But it doesn’t mean that the required strength isn’t still inside of you. YOU have that strength. YOU have all that within you. You need to see that power in all its glory and grace, and you will see that your situation can, and will change. The first step to that change is what you decide to do.

Yes, I am placing blame on the shoulders of some others besides Brandon, while in a contradictory fashion saying you make your own choices. That’s another thing about grief – you want to assign blame somewhere. So, for clarity, Brandon made his choice and might have made it irrespective of the system. But our broken system sure as hell got him there prematurely, not even seeing 30.

I have shared this because I absolutely know that it is hard. That it is not always easy to get help. That the system is fucked. But that is not enough reason to give up. I sit here in my anger and sadness that the system let both my brother and me down countless times. But it is still not enough reason to give up. You can always be stronger and will get back up. Each. And. Every. Fucking. Time. Some people have said to me that it’s impossible to get better, that they can’t be fixed, that they can’t find help that works. There are many different ways of getting help, and if the ‘traditional’ mechanisms of speaking to a shrink doesn’t float your boat then it doesn’t mean all hope is lost. On the contrary – you’ve found one approach that doesn’t aid you and the process of elimination on your mental health journey should be valued. Knowing what doesn’t help can sincerely lead you to learning what does help.

I have also shared this because this is just a small portion of what losing someone to suicide does. This is the honest truth of what grief looks like. I recognise and admit that I have struggled so much with it. As I said, Brandon and I weren’t even close anymore. This is the pain that I feel from losing a dysfunctional sibling relationship. Do not think that you won’t leave people in agonising pain, no matter your relationship with them.

A further reason why I’ve written this is what I alluded to at the start – these are topics that people don’t like to talk about or hear about. But this is reality. These conversations are fucking triggering and upsetting. Hell, it’s taken a god damn lot of strength for me to write this. However, the more we elect to not talk about what’s wrong with the world, these social maladies will continue under the cloak of secrecy, the guise of accepting the status quo, and within the nonchalant notion that we can’t change things.

The final reason for why I’ve shared this is for my own personal growth and to voice some anger and dissatisfaction. I am so tired of the way the world operates. The abuse of power. The legitimisation of harmful actions in the name of greed. You don’t need to spend $490 (not an exaggeration, this is an actual amount) for 45 minutes at a psychiatrist’ office to ‘get better’. Being told that costly drugs are your only cure isn’t the singular answer. Not banking your hope for a tranquil mind on external sources should be a part of psych 101. It’s a hard fucking slog, and I get to say this from my ivory tower of white privilege. Likewise, my older brother won’t fit the stereotyped bullshit of a lowly sort destined for failure who succumbed to addiction. He wasn’t deprived of finances and destitute; he was extremely intelligent and had potential beyond belief. The ineptitude of the mental health system might fail us privileged ones, but the collateral damage is far greater than just us. Quite often those who are struggling the most do not have the financial stability to even contemplate these forms of ‘solutions’. It is a mental health system supported by greed and the foundations of neoliberalism. If we are forced to adhere to this approach – that the onus is always on the individual to better their personal situation – then use this to your advantage. Say fuck the system, I’ve got this with or without you. I am a strong human and I will carry myself through.

There are some ugly things being put on full display because of Covid19. But there are also some good things that you can't lose sight of. We might feel alone, either physically or mentally, but I promise you that you are not. Please get in touch if you need to talk and I will be there. Sometimes even a stranger can extend a kindness to you that you so desperately needed. This is a huge part of why I always say to be there for the people in your life. There is something so significant that loved ones can provide. Although, this is just the icing on the cake of what a gift your life is. You don’t need this affirmation and support from others because you’ve bloody well got this on your own. Albeit, it sure does help having someone care, so don’t forget that part when you’re given the opportunity to be kind to someone else. We are all part of a thriving organism called society that breathes and glistens on the basis of human connection and the human experience. It reaffirms that we are not alone. You are not alone, even when you feel as though you are.

That voice calling for calm or a cessation to the pain isn’t asking for the dark abyss; it’s asking you to stand up and fight the battle worth fighting. Your life is worth fighting for, even against an invisible enemy.

#mentalheathawareness #mental health #addiction #suicide #mental heath support #lovelife #suicide awarenes #suicide prevention

[fanfic-inator795]

I’ve been thinking a lot about Michika and my “A New Slice of Life” fic (and it’s sorta sequel-oneshot) lately, so screw it. Headcanon time

Warning: this got SUUUUUPER long

Michika:

Despite being semi-aquatic, Michi doesn’t really care for seafood. She’d rather have cucumbers/other veggies or noodles. She also just LOVES fruit and baked goods, but strangely enough also enjoys black licorice

Along with being friends with Mikey, she runs into Piebald during one of her swims on the surface, and the two become fast friends. While she’s not super into horror movies, they definitely bond over their love of pranks

One day when they were bored, Mikey taught Michi about splatter paint art, and now it’s one of her fave things to do

Prefers lakes over oceans, and will hang out in parks on the Surface because of this

Has excellent aim and is great at long range attacks, thanks to her water gun and a decent throwing arm, but is below-average when it comes to close combat, and will resort to scratching/biting if she can’t get away

Despite her trickster personality, she’s loyal enough to keep a promise (sort of a Kappa’s thing) though only for friends. For anyone else, they have to get her to somehow spill her bowl water in order to ‘earn’ a promise from her

First few times she slept over at the Lair, she just slept in that moat they have in the atrium. Though, as she and Mikey got closer and she was more okay with sleepover cuddle piles with the others in the tv room, she was willing to pour her head water into another bowl and sleep somewhere dry

If she comes over when Mikey’s in the middle of doing art, she’ll just grab a bowl of chips or salad and sit on his hammock, munching away and watching, occasionally giving a comment. Mikey likes having the company and the extra perspective

She only steals food. Everything else she has, from her clothes to her water gun, she found abandoned or in the trash. She doesn’t have any morals about stealing non-food items, it’s just that she doesn’t feel like she needs to. She needs to eat, not wear fancy clothes or glittery jewelry

TV is kind of a novelty for her, since I don’t think there’s a ton of it in the Hidden City. She enjoys watching Cutthroat Kitchen with Mikey and gets a mild kick out of Lou Jitsu movies. She’s also a huge fan of comedies

Speaking of Cutthroat Kitchen, she and Mikey love to egg each other on into doing these sorts of challenges when they feel like cooking together

*Raph, walking into the kitchen to see Mikey and Michi doing a sort of three-legged thing, half-laughing and half-yelling at each other* “Uhh, are you two angry or havin’ fun?” “YES!”

After hearing enough of it from Mikey and Hueso Jr., she develops a mild love of rap/hip hop and Spanish music

She and Junior take a while to find common ground, but they do get along pretty well. They like to sass each other at times, and while Michi likes to make herself laugh, she appreciates that Junior can make her laugh with his jokes and comebacks

Hueso Jr.:

He’s autistic and finds it really hard to be social at times, but can be very talkative and expressive around his father and his friends, and when comfortable, he can be a bit mischievous and silly/loud. He also has anxiety, though is able to work through it for the most part

Has a dry sense of wit, just like his dad

Is actually quite skilled at cooking technically, he just doesn’t have any passion or drive for it

Likes playing sports ball/soccer/baseball with Mikey and the Turtles when he’s in the mood. Is also good at fencing, thanks to lessons from his dad

Through the events of ‘A New Slice of Pizza’, he ends up discovering a love of flower arrangement and table setting/making centerpieces, and while it starts out as just a hobby, he can’t deny it’s his love and makes a decent career out of it

That being said, he sometimes helps with the management stuff at Run of the Mill when Senor Hueso needs him to

Given that the Turtles have already paid his way for it (lol, love that line in ‘Portal Jacked!’), Junior does go to college for two years. He gets an associate’s degree in Literature

Through his love of wordplay and skeleton puns, he also ends up sort of getting into poetry. It’s more comedic and clever, though it’s still embarrassing for him to share. He sometimes help Mikey with rap lyrics as well

Likes music (classical, easy listening, alt. rock) and usually listens to Spanish artists

While being the same age as Mikey - 13 years old - he’s a few months younger (the opposite of Michi, who proudly reminds others that she’s 13 and a half, thank you very much)

While he may literally be all bones, he still enjoys hardy and filling foods. Lots of meat, lots of spices and heat, and (naturally) enjoys Italian and Mexican cuisine

He’s good at avoiding Michi’s pranks, which both impresses and annoys her

He’s not very good at art in terms of drawing or painting, but will still sometimes doodle and color with Mikey when Mikey’s in the mood for it and will still enjoy himself

Will watch anything and be okay/mildly entertained, but specifically likes watching sports

Mikey:

Works at Run of the Mill from age 13 to age 18, coming up with no less than a dozen one-of-a-kind dishes while there, becoming friends with all of his co-workers and earning plenty of fans through his awesome cooking skills and table service

When he starts traveling the world for a few years, both above and below the surface, to learn even more about food and cooking techniques, Michi comes along for the heck of it, and they both make sure to keep in contact with Junior as well as the Turtles/April/Splinter

When he does eventually open up his own restaurant in his late 20s/early 30s, he only had one name in mind for it: “Razz-ma-Tazz” A mix of Italian/American/Mexican/Asian cooking. Pretty much any delicious dish any human, mutant or yokai could ask for!

Enjoys cuddle sessions with his friends as much as he enjoys having fun and getting into shenanigans with them

Often sketches out candid moments he remembers (Michi catching a snooze under water, Junior smiling to himself as he’s writing out a poem, stuff like that)

As soon as he’s old enough for them, he switches from covering himself with paint and stickers to covering himself with tattoos, and is VERY proud of them

Takes care of the stray animals that hang out behind his restaurant, feeding them leftovers and giving them names

In his early-20s, after seeing April and his bros get into romantic relationships (April with Sunita, Leo with Usagi, and Raph and Donnie with two of my best friend’s OCs, heh), he starts to realize “Hey, you know what? I think I like Michi and Junior that way too!” He never really thought or cared about his sexuality too much beforehand, so realizing he’s bi and polyamorous isn’t too big of a deal for him

Unlike his brothers, who were absolute DISASTERS when it came to romance, Mikey ironically was the most mature and straight-forward about it despite being the second-youngest in the Jitsu fam. He just sat them both down, told him how he felt about them - BOTH of them - and was honest, along with telling them that he loved them just as much as friends, so if they didn’t feel the same or weren’t comfortable with the poly idea, that was totally cool.

As such, Michi and Junior both took some time - first thinking about it alone, then discussing it with each other. Eventually, they came to the conclusion that they loved Mikey too, and that they were close enough to each other that they didn’t mind being co-partners and having the same boyfriend along with being friends with each other

Everyone but Splinter was surprised with this outcome, but the entire fam (Senor Hueso included) was totally happy and supportive of them ^v^

Isn’t totally sure about being a parent with how busy his restaurant and his art keeps him, but in the meantime he volunteers with programs like Big Brothers/Big Sisters and mentorship programs, and occasionally fosters kids for several weeks

Two decades or so and hundreds of dishes later... and his favorite food is (and always WILL BE) pizza or pizza-esque dishes

Aaaaaand that’s all I have for now! If you made it this far - thanks for reading!! ^v^

#rottmnt #michelangelo tmnt #headcanons #my oc's #my fanfics #long post #lgbt headcanons

[simplysoriya]

The Eternal Serpent

{Prologue,1,2}

Chapter 3: The Clink

Constant and continuous rays from the sun beat down on the sea of sand that was Uldum. Unrelenting in it’s unending shine as the clouds themselves seemed to steer clear of the orange ball in the sky, not offering even a moment of reprieve to the already dry desert. A brutal experience, and often a form of punishment, in the southern civilization of the Rahamken

The pair of Soriya and Kirollis sat on the grainy floor of their cage. Captives of a foreign government. It was strange for the rogue, to be detained over a threat, and to be held with little consideration toward a due process. But to be fair he did threaten a city official... 

The duo was figuratively left in the dark as they sat in wait for some movement forward. Something that Kirollis himself didn’t seem too concerned with. Yet his daughter on the other hand sat in silence over the seemingly endless amount of frustrations- and of course the conditions of their captivity.

It certainly wasn’t Soriyas idea of a rousing adventure with her father. But somehow… being stuck in a cell with him seemed cosmically fitting. While the young monk had never been behind bars of her own doing- ever since she had met her father, the sinking suspicion that it was inevitability was never far from mind. However, she did find some small comfort that she was there with him, unlike the half a year that he disappeared prior. 

All and all it wasn’t the worst. The iron cage was spacious at least, with only other locals in there with them, offering both Sin’dorei their own space. If it weren’t for the sand, sun, and ever present threat of dehydration? It almost wasn’t that bad. As if all they had to do was close their eyes and think of a beach- while trying to block out their dry throats and the copious amount of sweat that sand definitely clung to.

All things considered it could have been worse. And at least for Kirollis, this was by far one of the nicer cells he had been in. His comfort on full display as he laid on his back, one leg tented up with the other resting on top of it, and his hands folded behind his head. Patiently waiting for something he never quite mentioned.

Soriya on the other hand sat on the opposite corner. Her legs folded under her rear to sit criss cross as she desperately tried to find some balance in the quiet. Though with everything that had happened over the past few days? That center was hard for her to achieve.

“You’re a little too comfortable.” Soriya noted as she glanced over to her dad. A sour tone still heavy in her voice, unhappy with his brash overprotection that landed them here in the first place.

“Well, to be fair, this isn’t my first rodeo.” The rogue replied nonchalantly.

“What were you thinking pulling out a gun in the middle of the market?” The younger Duskhaven chastised. 

Kirollis cast a questioning look toward his daughter. Using a flattened hand to block the sun from his eyes. “You know why.” He stated, but it didn’t stop him from expanding, “I saw some dude pull you into a shady alley. What was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, maybe use your words? Like a person?”

“Meh. If you were really in trouble, though, that might not of worked. Pluuuuuuus I have a feeling this is all going to be just fine.. Trust me, I do this all the time.”

‘Trust me’ She repeated in her head over and over. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, in fact he might have been one of the only people she trusted fully. But with all the blunder? That trust only went so far.

With a deep and clearing breath Soriya deflated at the shoulders, slumping forward. “Okay, fine. I’ll bite. How do you think this is all going to just ‘work out’.” She said, making lazy air quotes and all.

The rogue sent a coy and wide grin over in her direction, only prompting Soriya to press her lips together in a fine line as if all but saying she was going to knock it right off his face. But her attention was swiftly stolen as Kirollis pointed to a short shadow making its way up to their cell.

“Oi,” A weasley gruff voice rung out to steal the attention of the prisoners. There stood a shifty Goblin before the iron bars, at a meager two feet and some change, wearing a scowl that could kill. Flanked beside him a familiar silk merchant from the bazaar. “You the two who were askin’ about my score?” He spoke in a demanding tone.

“The woman I recognize, yes.” The merchant added more diminutively before holding out his hand. Receiving his jingling bag with a smile before he made his exit.

“I left you alone for five minutes…” Kirollis muttered in Soriya’s direction. Only to recieve a sharp glare in return that he couldn’t help but smirk at.

“Right.” The Goblin cleared his throat to regain their attention. “So I hear ya tryin’ to muscle in on a special project of mine,” He started in the usual theatrical tone before eventually getting darker, “Now we can’t be havin’ that. You two are trouble makers, clearly, and I can’t have a pair of rogue Sin’dorei muckin’ up my operation.”

Soriya’s ears perked up as the Goblin spoke, even with all his bravado and vague threats there only seemed to be one thing that registered to her in that moment; someone else had found it. Swiftly the young monk blurted out, “Wait you found it!?”

With a toothy grin that glinted with some gold the Goblin replied, “That we did, toots. And as soon as we get the gear… that wish will be mine.”

“Welp, sounds to me like you haven’t found jack shit yet.” Kirollis chimed in from his lounge on the sand.

“Yeah you can’t just claim something if you haven’t actually been there.” Soriya added.

The Goblin, obviously flabbergasted by the tag team explanation waved off the notion with both hands, “Woah, woah, hold the fuck on. This isn’t a demacratic debate. I came here to tell you to lay off or we’ll fuckin’ kill ya. No fancy words needed.” He asserted.

“What would you even wish for?” Soriya chimed in, unconcerned with the threat. “You know the wishes are like cursed right?”

“Psh, like I don’t know how to work a deal in my favor. You worry about yourself, clearly you got bigger problems.” Once again their green antagonizer motioned to the large cell.

Finally, Kirollis stirred, propping himself up on his elbows only to cast a look toward the opposition in question. Quirking an auburn brow he inquired, “We, as in like you’ve got a crew? Also what kind of gear?”

The Goblin 'archaeologist’ let out an angry grumble as he realized the Sin’dorei was pumping him for information. “None of your damn business! Here I was givin’ you guys a common courtesy. Jeez! This is what you get for tryin’a be nice to people. No fuckin’ respect.” He turned to leave, muttering to himself as he shook his head. 

“Wait- no- come back....” Kirollis said in the least convincing tone he could muster.

“If you want to be buried in unmarked graves out in the desert that’s your deal!” The frustrated Goblin called out to the pair of Sin’dorei behind him as he continued on.

After the ordeal Soriya’s teal colored eyes shifted over to her father, both confusion and curiosity in her features. “Okay so are you going to tell me what that was all about? How did you know that was going to happen?”

Kirollis merely shrugged as he leaned forward out of his sprawled out lounge to sit up. Digging in his hair a moment he would offer, “People like to brag about shit.” A simple yet effective answer. “I overheard that guy in the market before I dropped in on you and Abi.”

“Abi?”

“Yeah that shifty ass silk merchant. Heh, he was actually one of those contacts I was going to go talk to. Funny how life works, right?” The rogue got himself up with a small thin piece of metal in his hands. Making his way over to the door, only a few seconds was needed before the exit to their cage sprung open with ease.

“Wait, wait wait, so you pulled a gun to.. Why? Wait why didn’t you tell me any of this?!” Soriya finally proclaimed as the pieces fell together.

“Because you can’t lie for shit?” Kirollis said with nothing but endearment in his tone as he stepped from their cell. “And now we have a really good lead who did, like, all the work for us. You coming or what?” The rogue asked rhetorically as he gestured her out.

She huffed at first, shifting her eyes to the side as her lips tweaked into a concession. He had a valid point…. But at Kirollis urgings, Soriya got up to her feet. Cautiously looking around as she escaped custody. Only the second crime committed on their father daughter journey. “Okay so what’s the plan now?”

“Welp, now we go get some water because I am paaaarched. But yeah then we tail him.”

#story arc #story #plot #soriya #Kirollis & Soriya

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: Where The Chips Fall

The black door was completely nondescript, but glancing at the woman beside her and the sharp nod she got in response was enough to make the blonde raise and rap her knuckles three times.

There was the sound of a buzzer, and glancing up to her right, she saw the camera stationed above the door shift and move towards her as well as the sudden flash of gold and black disappearing from beside her before the noise started. The camera fixed on her, and rather than frowning at the added security, Jo winked saucily and blew a kiss towards the lens as she waited impatiently.

She thought for a moment nothing would happen, that no door would unlock and she’d be barred from this opportunity. It had taken a lot of sweet-talking, a lot of gentle queries and patience to finally get the story of a witch left alone out of Bobby and the boys, a lot of time and effort to not raise any suspicions after she first heard one offhand comment from Sam about “fuckin’ witches, even that Patrick guy and his fucking poker”. Eventually, she managed to piece the full story together - the legend of the witch who didn’t deal in bones and blood and teeth but instead over a poker table in chips and years. One who might even be able to be reasoned or appealed to in a way so different to most witches that were stuck on their own selfish desires.

The lure of years, of having more than just her allotted timeframe on this earth, of being with him longer than her body as it was would be able to sustain - it was too strong a draw and she’d found herself in her downtime tracking and looking for anything that might suggest the witch was active and prowling. Any sort of pattern or way to find him that wouldn’t lead her on goose chases around the country. That was her plan, right up until a bright sounding laugh and an “Oh, you’re looking for a witch, are you? You’ve got the right demon,” from the one-time witch helped cut that search short.

Jo had told Grey she had a hunt, and that wasn’t really a lie.

There was another sound of buzzing, and then the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking before the door before her swung inwards.

It was a quick walk down the dark, lightless hallway before she found herself in a dusty back storeroom for the bar out front which reminded her sharply of home. Or rather, where she’d once called home in the dusty roadhouse on the side of a Nebraska road. The air held the same musty scent of dust, beer and whiskey that had once been the scent she associated with the safest feeling - that and the smell of warm leather. Now it made her feel bitter and sharp, her sense focused on trying to keep the smell out of her nose and force her mind to focus on the table sat in the middle of the space.

She’d heard from Dean that the witch was a well-dressing, slick-talking playboy type. She’d heard from Bobby that he was cocky and arrogant and could practically read every single tell. All swagger and confidence, and the flare of theatrics to book. Altogether it didn’t sound like anything she hadn’t already tumbled with before and looking at the man sat at the green felt table, fingers clicking the small stack of chips together, Jo could tell neither of their accounts was accurate anymore.

Sam’s account though? Of a man mourning the loss of his love, of a witch without purpose but with a heart not unconnected to the pains and struggles of others, of someone who might be able to understand her situation but was still recovering from his own crushed heart?

He definitely seemed to fit that bill in her eyes more so than the picture painted by the other two hunters. Sure he wore a nice suit and an ironed shirt, and the very smarmy approach of the three buttons undone. Sure his hair was quaffed correctly and it looked like he had had a manicure very recently. Sure he eyed her with the look of a card sharp ready and waiting to strike. But she could see the bags under his eyes, the dark circles from what must have been years of restless or sleepless nights. The way the tiniest wrinkles were forming at the corner of his eyes that weren’t from age and weren’t from laughter anymore. And the way he seemed to be weary beyond his years as she moved towards the table.

“You don’t look much like my ten o’clock, darlin’, unless you’ve had a sex change in the last hour.” The man’s eyes focused on her, the click of the chips sounding louder than they should in the small space as she made her way behind the spare chair facing across from him. The Irish lilt of his voice made the words sound gentler and less threatening than the way his eyes glinted dark and dangerous in the overhead light. “Are you here to play, missy?”

“I’m here to win.” “Aren’t you all. You don’t look much like my usual type.” “You don’t know much ‘bout what I look like then.”

“I know more than you think, girlie.” The witch replied snappily, a hand gesturing across to the chair in front of her with toothpick spinning between his fingers with the dexterity of a real sharp player. “I can read people, darlin’, and I can tell you think you know what you’re doing here.”

Jo found herself scowling as she pulled the chair out and shrugged her leather jacket off her shoulders and onto the back of the seat before sinking down across from him. Eyes focussed sharply on the way the witch’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips before he set the toothpick back between his teeth and reclined back into his seat. There was a seriousness to his review of her, taking in each movement as she shifted back as comfortably as she could into the rickety chair.

“Now, before we get more acquainted let’s see how well I can see through you, shall we darlin’?” The man quipped sharply as he bit the end of his toothpick between his teeth and slid his chips back into the elegant carry case on the tabletop. Instead, he picked up a deck of cards and with a sound Jo was more familiar making than receiving, she felt her eyebrow raising before she could stop it at the gentle sound of the cards stacking and sliding together reminiscent of her misspent youth. The witch grinned across at her, lips tugged into a knowing smirk before he raised a hand with half the cards to gesture towards her. “You, my dear, are used to bein’ on the winning end of these games. Older men and cocky men who underestimate you based on that pretty little face of yours. Probably learned this game sittin’ on your daddy’s knee with some cheap beer you’d steal sips from - tell me, am I warm?”

“Actually it was my mom, not my dad that was the player.” Jo snapped back haughtily, shifting her weight to relax back into her chair as she watched his own reactions just as carefully as he watched her own. There was a brief widening of his eyes before they squinted back at her, considering and prying at her as if trying to determine if it was the truth or not. She bit the inside of her cheeks to stop the quirk of her own smirk that threatened, knowing that both were a lie - days spent playing against any and every hunter after Rufus had taught her the ropes as a way to practice her numbers - but if she could pass this test she’d be one step above him for the rounds to come. “And she only drank bourbon.”

“Pity, I’m fond of the Irish stuff myself.” The man replied with a smug grin as he cut the deck again before shuffling them quickly and spreading the cards in a quick line across the table, flipping them the right way up and then wrong ways again in a flash. “Well, let’s get down to business, shall we? Patrick’s the name and Texas Hold’em is the game. And you are?”

“Jo. Joanna Harvelle.” The blonde replied with a smile of her own, before blinking in surprise as the man stood up abruptly - cards still lying face down on the table. “Surprised you don’t favor the Irish style of game as well as in your drinks.”

“Oh you know more than the popular rounds, do you now?” Patrick asked, the surprise clear in his tone as he moved about the space towards a small cupboard not far from the table almost out of the line of the dim lighting’s visibility. There was the sound of something hard hitting the bottom of a glass before he turned to look back at her, his hand held out towards her with an empty tumbler other than the chunk of ice in it. “You want a drink too, Jo? I get the feelin’ we’re going to be playing for some hours tonight.”

“Whatever you’re havin’,” she replied quietly, shifting uncomfortably in her seat for a moment as he let out a huff of a laugh and returned to the table with a glass for each of them. Jo reached out before he could set it down, taking the drink from him and taking a sniff - the malt tones of Jameson’s easy to note, and somehow not surprising that he was serving something so classic and uncomplicated. “Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome, darlin’, just for the politeness - how about you set the buy-in value?” The dark-haired man said with a jerk of his hand, toothpick back between his fingers, as he sat back down in his chair. “Usually it’s twenty-five years, but perhaps you don’t want to waste that pretty youth of yours.”

“That’s fine with me.” She snapped back, waiting for him to settle in as he lent forward, arm across the green felt before him as he moved to pick the cards back up. The toothpick and the way his lips would curl fully up on one side in a cocky smile made her skin crawl a little, but this was the safest option she’d come across so far. If he knew she was here though, Jo knew - spinning her ring around her finger awkwardly as she thought about it - that he’d throw a fit at her being there and even just trying this. The prospect of losing twenty-five years with him made her stomach flip, but the prospect of gaining them extra made her heart thud harder in her ears. “You cuttin’ or am I?”

“You want to do the deck?” “Seems unfair that the one with the bank gets to control the cards as well to me.” “Perhaps, but it’s my game, Joanna, so you’re playin’ by my rules.”

That didn’t surprise her, nor the way his lips quirked all the way up in a twisted smirk. The cards snapped against each other again, and as he sat the deck in the middle of the table and opened the chip carrier again, Jo frowned as she watched the witch pull out two stacks and set them beside the cards. This was what all three of them had said, and his hand - that toothpick back between those dexterous fingers - waved over the stacks as he chanted the ritual to set them from chips into years. As he lent back and began the same on two others in front of him with the same chant and hand movement, Jo pulled her chips towards her, slowly setting the piles into the sets she liked. Little towers of five in a row, before fidgeting with the plastic discs to create the quiet clink against one another.

“So, ready to play?” “Born ready.”

That got a small huff of a laugh from the witch, as Patrick began to shuffle and then slid two cards before each of them and sat the deck back to the center of the table. Jo tossed out two chips - the big blind - as she pulled her cards back towards herself and glanced down quickly at her hand, face as blank as she could make it.

King and Four of Diamonds alike. An alright starting point, but excluding many of the options that cards closer together might have afforded her. Flushes were still available though, and a King could come in handy if they both ended up on a Four’s pair or three of a kind.

There was a pause before the man across from her flicked out two discs. “I raise one.”

“Check,” Jo said gently after a moment thinking, tossing one disc out across the felt to sit atop her blind as she rapped the table with her knuckles as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

The witch grinned, pick flicking between his teeth as if his tongue was flipping the small stick up as he reached across the table to draw and set out the flop.

Jo had to fight herself from reacting, her hand crushing for a moment around the silver ring on her left hand, spinning the face of it around and around her finger for a moment as she considered the cards. Two more Diamonds - a Queen and a Jack - as well as a second Queen in the remaining red suit. If only her four was a ten!

Considering her options, Jo fiddled with her ring awkwardly, glancing repeatedly between the cards face up on the table and the piercing look on the witch’s face. He just bled out glee behind those dark eyes, amused and sparkling dangerously. Whatever he had, he likely held either a Queen or a Jack in his own hand, but the fact two of the ladies were face up made Jo lean towards the knave.

Chewing on her lip thoughtfully, she picked up one disc and tossed it out again, raising a brow across at the other man as she mumbled quietly, “One.”

“I’ll see you,” Patrick replied, matching her bet with a quick placement of his own chip atop his others before he reached to flip over the turn card.

It took everything in her not to react as the King of Clubs stared up at them, and from the likelihood of probability - the game had just shifted into her own favor instead of the gleeful look that had been on the witch’s face. Jo knew she must have given something away though, as the dark-haired man sat back in his chair now, reaching up to pull the toothpick from his lips as he considered her.

“Two years,” Jo said quietly, slowly shifting another two chips out onto the pile on her side of the board. She blinked slowly as she moved her hand back, trying not to let her fingers shake in pre-emptive excitement. All that could lose her this hand was another Jack, and the probability of that was small, but not impossible. She’d have to wait until the other folded or the River flowed before she knew if this would be in her hand.

“Two huh? Well, how ‘bout we make this fun, hey, Joanna.” “Isn’t this already fun for you?” “Oh, sweetheart, I find the learning curve more fun than the luck involved. How about we make it five and I’ll give you a bonus chip if you aren’t here to make yourself young and beautiful.”

The man sat out a full tower of five chips with the other four already out there, a wicked smile curling up one side of his lips as he lifted his whiskey to his lips, considering her and her moves.

Looking at the board again, Jo fiddled with her chips for a second, the calming sound of their clicking sinking her back to the days spent on Rufus’ knee and sliding the coins of her pocket money for cleaning tables or sweeping the floors across the tabletop as she stared down this hunter or that one. Flicking her eyes between her chips and the witch’s curiously dark eyes, she nodded before she added another three discs out to match his five. They were already playing for nine years.

“You need to give me a chip then, I’m not here to be young,” Jo said back gently as she fiddled with her ring again, watching hungrily as the man ran an eye over her before nodding and fetching her a freebie from the chip holder. If nothing else, she would only be down eight years now if the River showed a Jack.

“Interesting, darlin’, very interesting,” Patrick said with one of those same sharp smiles, sharper and darker than the glint in his eyes as he moved his hand to hover over the deck. “Let’s see how your first hand has gone for whatever your goal is then, shall we?” He didn’t wait for a response and simply flipped the last card over for the board with a flourish and a twirl of that toothpick between his fingers.

Jo felt her stomach drop at the black card facing up at her, the bored-looking manchild with his staff staring up at her from the Jack of Clubs. She didn’t even need to look up from it to know that the other would be fighting down a gleeful sneer at the way the cards had fallen, letting her fingers slip back from her chips and instead working over her ring repeatedly. Spinning it around and around as if it could keep her from reacting any harsher to the loss that was about to come.

“Check.” “Oh, darlin’, you just made a blue didn’t you?” “Luck of the draw, isn’t it?”

“That it is, that it is. Now, you’re not goin’ to respond to any raise I make are you now?” He looked across at her, and Jo blinked balefully for a moment before nodding her head and biting down on a self-deprecating smile as the witch gave a huff of a laugh. “Well, I’ll be kind to you shall I-” Patrick quipped, rapping the table with his knuckles. “And we can get this hand done and dusted with a flip, aye?”

Jo sighed as she turned her cards over, and shook her head ruefully seeing the Ace of Hearts and a Jack staring at her from the other’s hand before he pulled the pile across the tabletop towards himself.

“Thems the breaks, sweetheart. Did you want to keep playin’ or you ready to be in your forties already?”

“My button.” Jo snapped back as she rubbed awkwardly at the back of her neck for a moment, as he slid his chips into neat stacks before he began cutting and shuffling the deck again with another laugh.

The next hand was possible trash and checking to add the two chips only to meet the blind, Jo wasn’t surprised that the other followed suit. It was a smart move, to wait until they had seen the flop if neither of them had decent hands - and a Five and Two of non-matching suits was definitely not a decent hand for her to start on.

As two Nine’s and a Five flopped out in the center of the table, Jo felt that might have just changed, but waited for the other to consider the table thoughtfully with that ever-present smirk but the uncertain twitch of his lips that gave away almost nothing except that there were probably no Five’s or Nine’s in his had at that moment. That the witch threw out three chips with a flourish suggested he might have two of an Eight, Seven or Six though. Jo slid her own matching three years across the table to await the flip of the Turn card as she took a sip of her drink, thumb still spinning the ring on her middle finger gently, soothingly.

A damned Jack. But this time, a welcome reprieve for her from the chance she might lose this hand as well - already five years in on this hand and down the eight from before, she didn’t want to face fighting back to make up thirteen years instead of three.

The witch seemed to pause though, staring thoughtfully across at her rather than making any calls about the hand just yet - dark eyes focused fully upon her face and then running along all the pieces of her he could see. Jo knew the moment his eyes paused and held on the silver chain just visible under the neckline of the blue sweater she wore, and then the way he fixated on her still spinning ring as if trying to determine exactly what it was that drew her there. As if he could read her mind by reading her face and hands and the smallest shifts of her stance.

“You know, perhaps I was wrong about you, sweetheart. You seem to be reading me like a book and I’m struggling to pin you down.” Patrick spoke with that same smugly joking tone, that she could tell he meant nothing but the opposite as he smirked across at her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you knew exactly what it was you were playin’.”

“And you don’t mean the poker, right?” “Of course not. That’d require none of the brainpower you’re runnin’ through right now counting the odds and cautiously keeping back from jumpin’ full-on in.” “Very true. You mean that I’m playin’ against a witch, yeah?”

“See now, that’s what I like in a competitor.” The man’s grin grew wider as he sat back in his seat, still not making a move to set any of his chips forward or make any bets on this round so far, just setting his toothpick down next to his hand of cards as he looked back at her. “I like someone that has surprises available.”

“Is that just these days since she left you?” Jo found herself compelled to ask. That little part of her that always struggled with impulse control straight up directing her, daring her even, to ask about the man’s dead love. To ask a question about the only nice witch that the boys had ever interacted with from the way Sam had described her. She felt like her tongue was too big for her mouth at the furious look that flashed across his face for a split second, followed by an even more painful and haunting look for an even smaller fraction, before the other raised his glass to his lips to delay a response or hide his reaction. Jo shook her head, cheeks blushing sharply as she lent forward for a second, fingers twitching as if wanting to reach out to comfort him. “I’m sorry, that was rude-”

“So, you’re one of them are you?” “One of what?” “A hunter like that trio of bumbling buffoons a handful of years back.”

“Ah. Yes then.” Jo replied softly as the man seemed to rake an eye back over her, trying to assess the validity of the concept. As if his eyes were looking for that scar on the side of her neck now that he was paying attention, or the way her hair had split ends she’d not found the time to get trimmed between cases, or the way her fingers had thin pale lines that cut over the very ends of the pads of her fingertips that had taken so long to heal. “That would be a group I’m part of.”

“So it is. You disguise it well under all your finery and the pretty face, you know.” The witch bit back, gesturing at her with his almost empty glass before he tossed the remaining contents back and set the crystal back down on the table beside that toothpick of his. The next second he appeared to be back in the game or never having left it unlike the distraction leaving Jo’s mind scrambling to quickly remember that the threat was likely any card higher than a Five that the other might have in his hand. She shook her head a few times before the click of chips caught her back. “Raise you three.”

“Check.” Jo rapped the table, setting out the three chips and bringing the total hand up to eight each as before. If she won this, she’d be back where she started, a good position to be in.

And then the River came rushing over with a Seven of Diamonds. A card higher than a Five, and leaving Jo’s stomach tying up in knots as to if the other’s hand held that magic number or not to beat her two pair.

Patrick appeared to be doing the same mental arithmetic, and the next moment, Jo let out a rush of air as he rapped the tabletop without calling to add any extra tokens out and spend any extra years on this hand.

The flip of both their hands, showing his useless Six and Three in comparison to her useless Two and her Five that turned her hand into a two pair and the winner of that round. She slowly pulled the chips back over to her side, and began stacking them carefully into their piles of five - gently clicking them together as she realized she was right back where she started from but no worse off.

The next hand few hands were uneventful and more teething than anything - with his winning with a pair of Sixes of all things and then her own win with a Jack high that had her down all of one chip given the discrepancy to the shitiness of their hands. The third hand had her up by two again with a hand of Two Pair.

“So, before we begin the next round - if you tell me why you’re here, I’ll give you another freebie chip. That’d take you up to twenty-eight years, so up by three overall.” Patrick’s voice was soft and guiding at that point as if trying to draw the secret out from her of the push for her to be there, as he’d stood to refill both of their drinks. He looked over his shoulder towards her after a second, raising an eyebrow at her. “What is there for you to lose other than a free extra year of your life if you decline?”

“There’s many things for me to lose, actually, and that’s part of what I’m here for,” Jo replied softly, her voice quiet and filled with uncertainty compared to the playful banter they’d had over their useless and worst hands thus far of such poor opportunities. If she wasn’t so concerned at walking away at least even on her buy-in, she might have bet up a storm on the hand with the Jack high just to scare him off and end that round quicker. But instead, she was playing cautious and gentle, playing the chances rather than the gut instinct that sometimes led her to greatness. Fiddling with her ring again, the dim light above the table catching in the shining crystals and bouncing small sharp jabs of light around the room and tiny rainbows into the shadows around them. “But the main one is.. the main one is a guy called Grey.”

“You’re riskin’ your future for a guy?” “He’s.. not just any guy. And I want to be with him forever.”

“Darlin’, I hate to be the one to break it to you - but humans don’t really live forever, no matter how much it may seem that way.” Patrick’s tone was condescending in a way that made her want to check out her chips and then punch him in that beaky nose of his, before she could shake that desire off. “I mean, unless this fellow is like yours truly, you’re not going to get much longer winning some years without splittin’ them.”

“You’re right, but oh so wrong.” Jo quipped back. She spun her ring one more time, before letting out a soft sigh. “He’s as immortal as you practically are now, though not quite so old as you supposedly are.”

“Oh? And what exactly what makes this man of yours so special, sweetheart?” “He’s a monster.”

“Well, color me surprised again, dollface, that is not what I’d expect for someone like you.” The witch seemed to freeze for a moment at her reveal, though he returned back to the table within a few seconds and his face was impulsively smug as it had been the whole time they had been playing. “And here I thought it wasn’t done by your kind and that.”

“You’d be surprised the number of us that don’t quite follow the killin’ method of dealing with things,” Jo grunted the words out, with a shake of her head and a raise of her hand to rub awkwardly at her neck and then twist a finger through the dainty silver chain of her necklace.

There was a shift, and looking up from her hands and the sliver wrapping around them, Jo was somewhat nonplussed by the way the man was leaning forward - arm resting on the table as he peered towards her - eyes fixated on the thin chain in a way that made the dark circles under them stand out sharper as he was thrown into the shadow of both the light and whatever it was rushing through him. Jo couldn’t be sure, but she was almost positive it was something to do with the woman Sam had quietly told her of. The one that had promised to love the man forever, and then finally changed her mind. The one that forced his hand to draw her years out of her and into him instead. The one that made this ancient soul destroy the one he’d loved most. Whatever it was, it made her stomach twist to see the twitch of his lips before they finally formed into a scowl.

“So, the little lady thinks she can win some extra time to spend with her lover, does she? Well, I’m here to tell you, darlin’,” Patrick’s voice sounded rougher then, harsher and less the smooth and charmingly playful tones of before and a darker edge to them that made Jo happy she knew that someone was waiting nearby in case anything bad happened and a borrowed silver bracelet around her wrist she was assured would protect her from any demonic or witch flare-ups. His words turned into knives instead though, as he picked up the cards and shuffled them through and viciously sliced her cards across the table to her. “You might win some years here. You might even double your bets with me. But that time? It’ll mean nothin’ in the long run. You’ll be the same fickle way all you women are - you’ll decide somewhere down the line that this fella? He’s not enough for you anymore. You’ve got other things you care about more, or places you don’t want to be. You’ll get sick of him and his ways. You’ll find you loathe what you’ve become for him, the things you gave up for him like a normal life or families. Your love will turn into resentment, and you will slowly burn the both of you from the inside until there’s nothin’ left for him in this world once you decide to leave him.”

His words were vicious and cruel and punctuated through his entire speech by the click of chips between the both of them as their cards played out. The witch’s words were harsh, but the cards were harsher for him. Jo’d upped the bet to six years on the flop - the Ace in her hand met by an Ace on the board reconciling that of the cards out, she probably held the highest match unless he’d gotten a straight right away with the Ten of Clubs and King of Spades sitting face up as well. The Turn gave another Ten, Spades this time, and they each raised again taking the total number up to a matching ten years.

As the final River card was set out, a Seven of Spades throwing her at risk of fighting off a Straight or a Flush with a lowly two pair, Jo found herself swallowing thickly as the witch snarled across at her, another two chips pushed into the pot as a call with it,  “You will grow to hate him and what you’ve become for him instead.”

Jo sucked in a breath at his words, shaking her head a little as she clicked her chips, carefully trying not to let his distractions force her into a bad move as she looked at the fifteen discs still on her side of the table and the ten years investment she’d already placed in. Meeting his eyes, the dark fire burning in them calling to that dangerous impulse of hers to brush with danger - that adrenaline junkie siren call and the risky nature she always had - and before she realized what she was doing, before she’d fully weighed the risks that perhaps they might be deadlocked or he was calling her out, she saw rather than felt herself sliding the corresponding chips forward to match his bet.

“Oh, darlin’, you are in way over your head.” The Irish man sneered at her, flipping his hand over to reveal a King and a Five but neither of them Spades. Jo’s heart that had been racing and thudding in her ears the moment she realized she’d put twelve years on the line stopped and the rush of silence as it returned to normal set her floating over the barbs he laid out.

His own smirk twisted in disgust as Jo flipped her Ace and Eight over - both of them a Two Pair but her Aces coming out trumps.

“You sure ‘bout that?” Jo said back quietly, the soft slide of her own bladed words as she raked the pot over to her side of the table and began restacking them. There was a huff of a laugh, but mirthless in the sound from the other as he began reshuffling the deck before Jo added gently. “By the way, you owe me another chip.”

The cards made a slick sound as he riffled the cards together between his two hands and the table before tapping them all back together again. Squaring the deck and setting it in the middle of the table, the witch gave another harsh-sounding laugh as he pointed at her with his toothpick.

“Right you are, missy, right you are.” Patrick nodded, fishing one of the chips from the holder and setting it down on the table between them, one finger harsh and pressed white atop it. “You can’t say I’m not a generous man with my life, can you, darlin’?”

Jo nodded her head, reaching out to take it, though his finger held firm and hard until she caught his eye. That same thrill-loving impulse told her that there was danger afoot as she stared back at him - silent and considering - for a long moment before he withdrew his hand and started dealing the cards again. She couldn’t tell what it was as she drew the chip back to her pile now thirty-eight up, but something told her that this friendly game was about to change for the worse.

That instinct was proven right over the next five hands, her fortunes going up and down in waves through crappy hand after crappy hand. A Jack High of all things was her only win in the second hand out, a bluff that the witch hadn’t bothered calling and let her take the four years only from the blind and Flop round before he passed it in. The rest were atrocious for the both of them, but Lady Luck seemed to be smiling on the Irish man more than upon herself for most of them. Those thirty-eight years slowly dwindled away through no fault of bad plays of her own back down to only twenty years - the fates how they are and the luck of the draw on the witch’s side eating her profit away until she was down again and struggling to make it back up. It might only be five down from her buy-in but it was a blow from what she could have walked away from the table with if she hadn’t given in to that need for the heart-thumping thrill and wager of loss.

“Now, sweetheart, you’re down a pretty few years right now. You sure you want to keep this up and leave your bonnie love sooner?” Patrick’s voice was back to that silky smooth charm, but Jo knew it was poison underneath. It was sharp and meant to taunt her into giving up, into leaving the table at a loss rather than rush after another big win. Or perhaps it was a taunt into making her chase that winning high rather than quit while she was ahead. And unfortunately, her brain wasn’t making the decisions as she quirked a brow up at him across the table before he began to deal for the next hand. “He wouldn’t appreciate your comin’ home all wrinkled and a failure, would he?”

“I doubt he’d care about such trivial things. More the years gone than the physical change.” “You sure ‘bout that? Men are as fickle as you women are, you know.” “Oh, I’m sure. He’s not a man after all.”

The bitter sounding laugh rang through the room as Jo lifted her cards to look at her hand as she set out the two discs for the big blind that round. A Seven of Spades and a Two of Hearts. The hearts made her smile, a tiny thought that something about it connected to her playing with her heart on the line and his the way that she was. The hand wasn’t good at all, but she felt something quiet in the back of her mind that sounded like his voice whispering that it would be alright.

“Well now, it looks like someone’s got a good hand.” Jo blinked in surprise as she looked across the table to the other, having forgotten to school her face blank for half a second as she’d let the smile tug her lips up rather than keep her poker face in place. The dark-haired man was smirking across at her as he played with his chips for a moment, before tossing five out alongside the small one year blind. “Let's take it up by four, shall we?”

Looking back down at her cards - a useless hand that any other time she’d fold with and count those two blinded years as the bad money she didn’t want to throw good after - Jo chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before she nodded. Something, she couldn’t tell what at all, was telling her to trust this hand and the two hearts it held onto. Sliding another four coins across to match his, Jo nodded again.

The Flop served it’s purpose, and Jo nervously shifted in her chair as she continued to roll her ring around her finger to calm herself down. She’d already broken the facade of calm before and accidentally made the witch think she had more than she’d had - but now, looking down at the Eight, and then the Seven of Diamonds and the Seven of Clubs to join her own tucked into her hand, Jo felt that little prickle of excitement starting up again.

“Well now, looks like we’re both in a good spot there, right sweetheart? I call ten.” Patrick quipped, toothpick held between his teeth as his grin pulled all the way up on the left in that dangerous way that made her certain he had something good in his hand from the get-go. A pair already, most likely, and as he threw out another ten chips - a bold move but not an unpredictable one as he seemed to have learned Jo had trouble backing down from a bite - his grin got wider still like a shark circling its prey. “How’s about it? Your two pair versus mine, isn’t that right?”

Jo hummed quietly, before making up her mind and shifting not only the ten of her chips to match his own but another two on top of it with a nervous rub of her necklace chain as her eyes darted between the Board and his own predatory smile. “I raise another two.”

“Oh, darlin’, that’s just reckless.” He let out another laugh, sliding the requested two discs across to match her bid and call her in turn. “You’re down to four years, and you won’t make it through another hand at this rate.”

That thought hadn’t crossed her mind, and Jo knew immediately her cheeks were flushing in reaction to her foolishness to risk it all on this hand. Three of a Kind like she had was a good spot to be in right now, and it would trump his Two Pair if that was indeed what he had, but if he had two Eights in his hand? He’d have a Full House and she would be down to four years of the twenty-five she’d started with, and not nearly enough to play another round.

“Guess this is the last hand then,” Jo said quietly, blinking away the sting that she might have just lost entirely at this rate and would be walking away feeling closer to sixty than thirty, as she continued to rub her thumb against and spin her ring nervously.

There was another of those mirthless laughs as the Turn card showed a Six of Spades, and the witch stared her down for a long moment. And then his knuckles rapped upon the top of the table, rather than raising the ante at all. His eyes were fixed on her, and blinking in surprise at him, Jo let out a shaky breath as she too rapped her knuckles to check. No extra coins needed at that point as she guarded her remaining four protectively.

And then it happened.

Jo’s heart lurched violently in her chest as the River card was laid out and that thudding in her ears continued to ring sharp and high. She didn’t hear a word the man said as his lips were moving, his hands were pointing and gesturing, and he sat back in his chair with a smug, self-satisfied grin as he’d slid four chips into the pot.

All Jo was focused on was the way her Two of Hearts tucked carefully away in her hand, had just found it’s match in the Two of Spades facing up at her from the last round.

“So, what do you say, you goin’ all in, sweetheart?” Jo blinked and shook her head for a moment to clear her ears as she looked at the card and his risen bet. “Is that a no-”

“I call. All in.” Jo breathed the words out, harsh and ragged as she shoved the remaining four discs across the table and her hands splayed out, shaking nervously against the green felt. She didn’t have the years to play another hand, and she had to make this one work for her - her and her Full House had to be higher, it just had to - or she’d be leaving the table then and there with some more silver strands and more lines around her eyes than she came in with. She had to win this, and her heart was lodged in her throat as she watched the other shake his head sadly at her actions.

“Darlin’, your man is going to be mighty upset with you.” The witch said gently, as he turned over his cards - revealing to her immense relief a pair of Tens rather than the Eights that could have wrecked everything for her. His smirk, however, held the cockiness of someone expecting an Eight in her own hand and the win of the pot to go to him. “You looking forward to hittin’ sixty in the blink of an eye?”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Jo said softly, rolling her thumb over her ring again, calming herself from the warmed metal and the press of her finger pad into the intricate design as she allowed her smile to slowly grow. “And I’m cashin’ out now.” Jo flipped her cards with the other hand, the Seven and Two partnering up to give her her Full House and the ownership of the forty chips in the center of the table. “I’m goin’ to quit while I’m ahead.”

There was a moment of joy she got to experience watching the Irish man’s face shift and twist in surprise to frustration and then finally, as she fished her pendant out from inside her sweater to grasp tightly and excitedly around the sharp edges of the design, it turned into a soft smile as the other looked across at her.

“That, my dear, was a very ballsy play. And a very smart move.” Patrick’s voice was gentle there, and she almost felt like crying not only in her own happiness to have not risked so much for no reward but for the way she could see part of that tiredness in the man’s own face - the wear and tear of his losses and the work he did for nothing but himself anymore - ease a little. And then the chips were alight and the brush of ash that never reached her other than the power behind it washed over her. Her shoulder that always seemed to ache from sitting too long felt better, and as she let go of her necklace she noticed her hands didn’t have any of the pains from the breaks so long ago that she didn’t leave be for long enough. Nothing hurt and raising her hands to her hair, she saw even the split ends had come back together.

Jo let out a surprised noise before the man laughed again, that mirthless sound was harsh and jagged but wasn’t as condescending as it had been previously. “Well now, aren’t you a lucky one. If you ever want to play again, darlin’-”

“I’ll try not to take too much from the bank next time.” Jo finished for him, her eyes lighting up as she pushed her chair back, looking over the table in disbelief as she rose to her feet. Tilting her head as she shrugged on her leather jacket and the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway to the exit suggested his previous engagement may be there, Jo waited for a moment to see a middle-aged man with a pot-belly, the sagging jowls of a man who’d ate his way through his youth while he played College football but hadn’t adjusted once the knee injury took him out of the game, and the pale band of skin around his ring finger that suggested divorce had come first rather than death, before she turned back to the witch. “Thanks again, Patrick. I’ll be seein’ you.” She didn’t know what compelled her to do it, but leaning down she pressed a brief kiss to his cheek, laughing herself at the stunned look on the witch’s face and the same on his next victim’s before she started off for the door with a new, or should that be old, spring in her step.

Behind her, she could hear the scrape of a chair and the clicking of chips as the words bounced off the walls and down the hall with her. “Are you ready to play a little game?”

#fic #ca #jopov #cc

[sairavity]

Fight of Our Lives

In which Nicole Stark and Andy Quill are caught up in the war for the Infinity stones.

“Okay, so I was wondering if we could have a little sleepover at your place. Just me, you, Nova, and Meg. And maybe MJ, too, if she’d like to tag along.” I say, as I walk alongside Andy, who smiles and nods.

We cross the sidewalk, continuing our conversation, laughing and just going about our day. The wind picks up around us.

“Yeah. How are things with you and Peter?” Andy asks, cocking her head in my direction.

“We’re best friends, like always. I still kind of like him, though, but...” I trail off, as I see a crowd of people running through the streets of Greenwich Village.

A loud humming noise could be heard everywhere. Dust was being scattered, papers were flying everywhere, and cars were being abandoned.

“What’s going on?” I looked at Andy, who shook her head in confusion. People were screaming and looking for a place to hide.

Andy and I speed-walked a bit further, and saw a large circular aircraft, hovering just two blocks down from us.

“What the hell is that, Nic?!” Andy gaped, nervous and in awe of the monstrous spaceship above them.

“I don’t know...but we need to see it!” I say, lifting upwards and taking off to where we are in front of the aircraft. Andy followed my lead, curious to know what this ship could be.

We slowly landed to where we saw four people standing at a distance in front of the ship.

A strange man with a red cape looked at me and Andy suspiciously. There was also a monk, and...Bruce? And Tony was here too?!

“Dad?! What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were with Pep?” I asked, trying to piece together this whole situation.

“Nic, I thought you were in school? And you brought your friend with you?” Tony looked at me sternly, frowning.

“Well...that’s not the point! We’re trying to find out what this...thing is!” I say, pointing to the donut ship.

“Kid, you shouldn’t be here. You could get hurt.” Bruce piped up, trying to diffuse the argument and put some sense into me.

“Uncle Bruce, I can protect myself. Andy and I can fight!” I refuted, pouting slightly.

“Can we all just focus? This is a serious situation here! I don’t want any nonsense from any of you.” The wizard said frustratedly.

“I like this guy.” Andy whispered to me.

I sighed, understanding the problem. Tony just shook his head at me, and I knew there would be a talk when we got home.

For now, we focused on the problem at hand. The wizard waved his hands in a pattern and and orange light was pushed out, engulfing the area we were standing in. It must’ve been some sort of protective shield.

Tony walked forward as a blue beam of light shot out from the spaceship. Andy and I walked behind Bruce, the wizard, and the monk.

Two people came out from the light, facing us. One was tall and muscular, and the other was short and skinny.

“Hear me, and rejoice! You are about to die at the hands of the children of Thanos.” The short one said. He looked like Squidward.

“Be thankful, that your meaningless lives are now contributing to...”

Tony interrupted, “I’m sorry, Earth is closed today. You better pack it up and get outta here.”

“Stonekeeper, does this chattering animal speak for you?” Squidward replied, apparently to the wizard. I rolled my eyes.

“Certainly not. I speak for myself. But you’re trespassing in this city and on this planet.” The wizard and the monk made gestures and two circles of orange energy emerged from their hands.

“It means get lost, Squidward!” I yelled from behind my dad.

Squidward looked at me with a peculiar glint in his eye. “They exhaust me. Bring me the stone.”

The big alien makes a move towards us. Damn it all. I will not die today!

“Banner, you want a piece?” Tony says to Bruce.

“No, not really, but when do I ever get what I want?” Bruce responds.

Bruce grunts and tries to transform, but only his neck turns green.

“Please, Dr. Banner. You gotta try!” Andy says, attempting to encourage him.

“Hold on. I just...I need to concentrate here for one second. Come on, come on, man.”

“Where’s your guy?” Tony asks.

“I don’t know. We’ve sort of been havin’ a thing.” Bruce replies.

“There’s no time for a thing, Brucie. That’s the thing right there.” I say, holding my breath as the big alien starts to walk faster.

Bruce tries again, but to no avail. The wizard looks at him in disbelief.

“Dude, you’re embarrassing me in front of the wizards.” Tony replies.

Bruce just gives up and stays behind with the bald man. Tony looks at the two of us.

“You guys are going to stay behind and protect Bruce. That’s it.” He says. I just shrug. No getting out of this one.

Tony steps forward and dons his nanotech Iron Man suit. The big alien raises his hammer to slam it down on Tony, but a shield protects him. Tony blasts the big guy backwards, and Squidward magicks him into some cars.

“Where’d that come from?!” Bruce asks.

“It’s nano-tech. You like it? A little som-“ Tony is then propelled into the air by Squidward. He throws some trees at us, but I help blast them to smithereens.

The wizard then sends Bruce and Andy into a portal, along with half a taxi. I stay behind to help fight, not caring if Tony disagrees. Tony throws a car at Squidward, but he cuts it in half.

Squidward tries to throw my dad off by launching various objects at him, but he swerves and evades them. Big guy throws his hammer at Tony and launches him several blocks away.

“What are we gonna do?! I can help!” I yell at the two wizards.

“You can try and not get in trouble!” The wizard says, opening a portal while Squidward hurls sharp brick-spears at us.

Squidward levitates a car in front of him, blocking the spears from hitting him.

The monk is then knocked out when Squidward turns on a fire hydrant. I am thrown into a car.

I hit my head, feeling my vision get blurry. Get up, Stark. Do something!

I can see the faint outline of Squidward hovering over the wizard. He tries to grab the pendant from him, but fails.

The wizard falls to the ground, and tries to use the stone, but is restrained by Squidward.

I stand up. I put my hands out, blue tendrils of magic swirling from my fingers. “Hands off, squid.” I blast Squidward into a building, buying me some time to help out.

Then, I try to get the restraints off the wizard. “Get out of here, kid.” He says. “Leave.”

“Nope. You’re not dying on my watch.” I reply, smiling. I sense something behind me, and hold my hand out, barely stopping the wave of debris flying at me.

“Well, well, well. You have a fiery spirit in you, child. A great power inside.” Squidward hisses. I glare at him.

“What the hell do you want?” I snap, staring at the alien intensely.

“It’s been a while, young Lapis. My master has been anxious to meet you.”

“Go to hell. I don’t even know you or your master. And I don’t wanna know!” I yell.

“You will soon, young one.” Squidward replies, summoning ropes to restrain me. I feel myself being choked, until I can no longer breathe, and I succumb to the darkness.

#marvelflair #fanfic #fanfiction #infinity war #spiderman #peter parker #tony stark #doctor strange #iron man #marvel fic #fiction #my ocs #my fic #shookavengers

[siodymph]

“The Gift to Keep on Giving”

Hey there @the-ill-doctor ! I’m sorry this is getting to you so late but at long last here’s your gift! I had a lot of fun working on your prompt. It was so sweet, it got me right into the holiday spirit lol I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! And Happy New Year!

Feel free to read your story under the cut or over on my AO3!

There were a few subjects Stanford didn’t think about when moving to Backupsmore. Or at least things he tried not to think about. The holidays was one of those subjects.

While everyone was packing up their dorms for the semester Stanford honestly didn’t know what he was going to do. He hadn’t gone home during Hanukah. The most he’d done was send the Pine’s family a few cards and some presents to give to Shermie. He knew he wasn’t in hot water with his parents, at least not as much as Stanley, but since he hadn’t made it into his dream school things still felt weird between him and his father. If he were to go back to New Jersey for his holiday break he’d be happy to see his mom and Shermie, but he’d be stuck under the same roof as his dad again.

And if he was honest with himself, Stanford didn’t even want to go home for Christmas. Having it just be him, his parents, the baby, all stuck in a quiet house...

He tried to rationalize his decision with extra evidence. He could better optimize his work if he didn’t waste the time and money going back to New Jersey. He could use the break to study for next semester. Perhaps get a head start with the research program he got into. Maybe even begin writing a paper on theoretical physics for the Backupsmore Science Journal.

But he knew the bigger reason why he didn’t want to go back home. Even if he never said it out loud.

He told himself he was fine, therefor he was fine. He’d spend the winter break at school. Doing work. Doing important work. And he’d be fine.

So when Fiddleford McGucket practically demanded he pack a suitcase and come to Tennessee with him it practically ripped apart his original plans.

“No way I’m letting you stay out here in California by your lonesome!” He’d called out as he shoved the last of his coats and shoes into a duffel bag. “You’re my friend!”

“But I don’t even know your family!” Stanford groaned from his bed. Watching Fiddleford race around their dorm like a headless chicken. “Hell, I’ve only known you for four months! Isn’t that weird?”

Fiddleford actually had the gall to laugh and looked over his shoulder. “Stanford Pines! A friend’s a friend, no matter how long you’ve known’em! Besides, if you knew my folks you’d know they love having guests. They’ll take any excuse they can get to throw a party.”

“And you don’t think they’ll find me… Odd?”

Pausing, Fiddleford turned back from his bags to give Stanford a sincere look. “Trust me, you’ll hardly be out of place. I’m sure they’ll love ya!”

“You really think so?” Stanford asked.

“I know so!” Fiddleford declared.

“I don’t even celebrate Christmas, I’m Jewish.”

“Still no excuse to leave you all alone here. Especially since break goes through all of December and New Year’s.” Fiddleford called back. But he stopped for a moment, talking a little slower. And sighing “Ok wait, hold on. If you don’t wanna go, I shouldn’t be forcing ya like this…”

“What? You seemed so keen on me going with you just moments ago.”

“I know, and I want you to. I mean, I don’t want you feeling left out is all. But if you wanna come or not, it’s entirely your choice.” Fiddleford replied.

As he went back to packing Stanford found himself faced with a difficult choice. Continue with his original plan of staying at Backupsmore? Or go with Fidds?

It was true that he’d only known the other man for four month now. But he was also one of the only friends he’d made at school besides one girl and guy in his history class, and his roommate… Kinda. But of everyone he’d come to know it felt like only Fiddleford ever had the patience to actually talk with him. To talk about the things they liked, and with so much in common between them they hardly ever sat in awkward silence.

And despite not knowing one another long Stanford found that he really enjoyed Fiddleford’s company. Together they felt like this unstoppable duo, that they could do anything if they only set their minds to it. And no matter what they’d always have one another to support their endeavors and have each other’s backs.

Stanford hadn’t had a person like that in his life since he and Stanley were kids…

But would it be worth it to leave school, abandon all the plans he’d made, just to spend more time with Fidds?

Fiddleford actually jumped with a tiny squeak when a duffle bag was suddenly dropped next to his.

“Alright buddy, count me in!”

Fiddleford’s eyes lit up. “You mean it?”

Stanford shrugged “Eh, might as well do some traveling. I’ve never been to Tennessee after all!”

Before he could back up, Fiddleford tackled him in a hug. “Aw, thanks for doing this! You’re gonna love it! And just wait until you meet my family!”

“I hope so…” Stanford said with a sigh. He wasn’t completely sure he made the right choice but at least now Fiddleford was happier once again.

“Let me just call my Ma so she knows I’m not dead and I’ll start packing!”

A few days later Stanford found himself on a cross-country bus alongside his best friend. The ride might have been dull had he been traveling alone. But with Fiddleford there trip was much more enjoyable. It didn’t feel any shorter, but at least there was banjo music, talks of science, stories and plenty of good books to keep both of them busy.

And as soon as they left the station after two days of near non-stop traveling, the McGucket family clan was there to greet them with open arms.

After that the next few days became a blur. The McGuckets treated every Christmas like a family reunion so the old farmhouse was packed to the gills. It was a little claustrophobic at times but in some strange sort of way Stanford found himself almost enjoying the chaos of it all.

True to his word, Fiddleford’s family seemed genuinely interested in him. In such a crowded house people seldom even noticed his hands. And even when he did most of the McGucket’s seemed more interested in his hands than disgusted or disturbed. Though sometimes he did find himself uncomfortable around Fiddleford’s grandmother when she started commenting that perhaps he had been marked by a devil. But Fiddleford could shoo her off easily enough.

When Christmas Eve finally came Stanford honestly didn’t know what to expect. In his house they’d barely cared about the christian holiday. The most interest Stanford and his brothers had in it had been all the presents and the candy and the comfort food. But he’d always seen it on television and advertisings. From what he’d gathered as a kid the rest of America seemed to care about Christmas a lot.

And sure enough Christmas Eve proved to be the big red and white party he’d always seen in movies. Funny enough though Stanford expected Fiddleford’s family to be even wilder than the ones he saw on TV, seeing how excited they’d been already. But come Christmas Eve Stanford swore the McGucket clan actually seemed slightly more subdued than they had every day leading up to it.

They did insist on doing a lot of baking though. All day it seemed like there were people working in the kitchen. Roasts, pies, casseroles, cakes, salads, unique recipes Stanford didn’t even know how to categories! And it seemed like everyone was contributing to a massive dinner platter over-flowing with cookies by the end of the night. All for Santa supposedly. It seemed rather excessive but let the family continue doing it, not wanting to spoil all their fun.

Fun… that was probably the biggest feeling he’d gotten from the McGucket’s Christmas Eve. Everything seemed to be so much fun to them. And when he saw the joy that seemed to radiate off Fiddleford he couldn’t help but agree and smile back.

And later as he got ready to go to bed he couldn’t help but think about it still.

“I know that look.” Fiddleford said with a smirk. “Wha’cha thinking about, pal?”

“Not much, buddy.” Stanford answered back, keeping his voice low. With such close quarters not only was Stanford rooming with Fiddleford, but also three of his other cousins as well and they were already fast asleep.

“I guess it’s just… you and your family are a lot different from my own.”

“You think so?”

“My family is nothing like this, I’ve only seen some of my relatives once or twice. And never all at once like this. They just tolerated each other. But you, you and your family, you all seem so close.”

“I think that’s all thanks to my Dad and all his siblings.” Fiddleford said, looking over to a few of his cousins. “They always believed that family owed it to one another stick together through thick and thin. And if it weren’t for them sticking like that, I doubt I’d see these guys nearly as often. If ever.”

“What family owes?”

Fiddleford shrugged. “You know. Looking out for one another? Caring about everyone? My Granny was sure to hammer that int’a everyone’s skulls.”

“It’s a bit ironic,” Stanford realized. Trying to ignore the bubbling guilt in his gut the more he thought about his family and his brother. “Despite being people with such similar interests our home lives couldn’t be any different. I… don’t really like being around my family that much. I didn’t even go home for Hanukah this year just because I didn’t want to see them so soon.”

“Well next year put it on the calendar! Whether we go to New Jersey or not I wanna celebrate Hanukah with you!” Fiddleford declared. Quickly putting his hand over his mouth when one of his cousins grumbled in their sleep.

“You would?” Stanford whispered in disbelief.

“Of course!” Fiddleford declared, trying hard to keep his voice still a whisper. “It’s been so nice havin’ you here. It’s the least I can do after dragging your butt out of sunny California here in the dead of winter! And I’d love to celebrate more things with you. It could become like a little tradition if you wanted.”

“I think I’d like that very much.” Stanford agreed. “And you know there’s more than just Hanukah… I could show you all our other holidays if you like.”

“I’d like that very much.” Fiddleford said warmly. Then he stood up out of his bed and went to put back on his shoes.

“You aren’t going to bed yet?” Stanford asked, stifling a yawn. Usually when they’d slept over in one another’s dorm Fiddleford had always been the first to fall asleep.

“Oh, I was just gonna go help my Pa out in the stables. Apparently the horses are givin’ him trouble settling down.” Fiddleford rushed to say.

Stanford could hardly hear any commotion outside, not to mention hadn’t seen Fiddleford talk to his father once, but he didn’t think much of it. Yawning he snuggled deeper into his blankets. “Alright then, goodnight whenever you do go to sleep.”

“Night buddy.” Fiddleford said before padding quietly out of the room. “And merry Christmas.”

Wondering what would happen the next day, and already dreaming of what it’d be like the celebrate Hanukah with Fidds, Stanford let himself drift off…

If Christmas Eve had felt like an ordeal at the McGucket household, Christmas day completely blew him away.

When he got up the next day it was like he’d stumbled into a completely different house. There was even more decorations placed along the walls and in every nook and cranny of the house. There were so many gifts placed under the tree they took up an entire half of the living room floor. And somehow during the four hours he’d actually slept someone had managed to eat the entire platter of cookies left out by the chimney. And when Stanford tried to ask who did it, he got the same answer the adults gave the kids.

“It was Santa silly! He sure loves his cookies!” Fiddleford declared.

“But I mean who really ate them all?” Stanford tried again. Keeping his voice low just in case any of the children there heard.

Fiddleford looked at him blankly. “… Santa!”

“Ok fine keep your secrets!” Stanford said. “I just wanted to know who could eat all those cookies. And I doubt they just threw them all out, that’d be a waste!”

“You really have no idea how Santa did it?”

“No and this is going to drive me crazy for the rest of the day. You’d have to be in diabetic shock after eating so many cookies at once!”

“Fine! I’ll let you in on a secret.” Looking around to make sure there weren’t any kids, Fiddleford pulled him aside back to his room and pulled out a cookie from his coat pocket. Letting it fall into Stanford’s hands. He couldn’t believe it.

“Wait, you did-”

“It’s a team effort.” Fiddleford replied in a hushed whisper. “Most the grown-up’s stay up to go decorate the house and along the way we clean off the plate.”

Stanford immediately blushed. “I uh-”

The longer he stayed quiet the more Fiddleford’s face fell. “Did you- Did you think only one person was allowed to eat those?”

“I… I hadn’t considered it.” Stanford replied in a quiet voice. He really hadn’t thought of that.

He could tell Fiddleford wanted to laugh really badly, but the man just clapped him on the shoulder, struggling not to fall over and cackle. “Stanford Pines! You’re a genius but I swear you got the perception of a- of a… I don’t even know!”

While Fiddleford found the situation hilarious, Stanford wanted to crawl away somewhere and hide. How had he not figured that out? He was on track to finish his bachelor’s in two years and yet he couldn’t figure out that more than one person could eat the cookies. Fiddleford thankfully didn’t mock him for long before taking him by the elbow and dragging him back towards the dining room.

“Don’t worry though, your secret’s safe with me!”

“I hope so.” Stanford grumbled. “A mistake like that could ruin my reputation…”

Fiddleford shook his head, “Aw don’t be so hard on yourself it happens to everyone! You look too close at the details and you’ll forget what the big picture’s supposed to be!”

Even with Fiddleford’s reassurance he still couldn’t help but feel foolish. Hopefully this was something he’d keep in mind once he went back to school…

He was pulled from his thoughts when someone called out “PRESENT TIME!” and they were all dragged down to the living room where the tree and all the gifts were. It was quite a scene to watch. There were children all over the floor and adults began handing out presents one by one. Everyone seemed to just buzz with anticipation as the kids began ripping into their presents.

Stanford got so caught up watching everyone else he almost jumped when a present was dropped into his own lap.

Fiddleford was quick to apologize, laughing nervously. “Oh dear! I wanted to surprise you. Not startle you.”

When Ford looked over the package he wasn’t quite sure what to say at first. “Fiddleford I- Well, thank you, but I couldn’t possibly-”

“Aw, don’t you worry none. I already got plenty of gifts from all my folks.” Fiddleford said quickly. “I know you don’t celebrate… but I wanted you to feel included.”

“But I wasn’t able to get anything for you. Not to mention the rest of your family.”

“Hey, that ain’t what the holidays are about.” Fiddleford replied. “I got you a gift cause I wanted to give you one, not cause I expected you to do anything in return.”

Stanford still looked unsure, but he decided to let it go for now. And instead went about unwrapping the gift. For all of Fiddleford’s talent and skills, wrapping was not one and Stanford found himself navigating a strange puzzle of weird folds and a ridiculous amount of tape. He was pretty sure it was a book of sometime. Probably a textbook. It was certainly heavy enough. And he could feel a hard cover of some kind under his fingers.

When he finally pulled back all the paper and could read the cover. It was all navy blue with golden trim with a strange looking beast on the front that seemed almost unreal.

 “Anomalous Phenomena”

 “I thought you might like it. Since you always seem so interested in genetic anomalies. Plus when you mentioned trying to find the Jersey Devil as a kid...” Fiddleford said quietly.

“Fiddleford…” Stanford breathed. “I… I love it! Where did you even find a book like this?”

“Saw at school when they started discontinuing a bunch of books. It seemed like something right up your alley. Thought it’d be a shame if such’a interesting book like that disappeared off the face of the earth.”

Stanford remembered hearing about the library being clear out, but that was weeks ago. Fiddleford had been holding onto this the whole time? Just waiting for the holidays to come, waiting until now to give this book to him. He really thought that much of Stanford Pines?

Ford felt his cheeks start burning the more he thought about it.

“Thank you Fiddleford. I mean it… Truly. For everything.” Stanford said slowly, running over the book cover with his hand. Letting all six of his fingers brush over the golden trim “I think you may be one of my dearest friends.”

“Aw shucks.” Fiddleford said with a light chuckle. “It’s nothing really.”

“Not to me it isn’t.” Stanford replied. He could still feel himself blushing and hoped no one noticed. “No one’s ever done something like this for me Fidds. You, you probably don’t realize what this means to me. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Well once or twice is good enough for me.” Fiddleford said back with a smirk.

Stanford wanted to say more but one of the McGucket youngsters ran up to them and started pulling Fiddleford away for more presents.

“Sorry Stanford, but duty calls!” He said, pretending he was heavier than he was while his younger cousin dragged him back over to the tree to open more gifts. All around him a few more of his siblings and cousins laughed at his antics before they all settled down back under the tree and Fiddleford began passing out more gifts to the rest of his family.

For those few moments it all seemed so perfect. The whole family there. Together. Happy. And Fiddleford near the center of it all, practically glowing with a beautiful smile, golden brown hair and sharp blue eyes that never missed a thing.

Stanford had always thought Fiddleford was a handsome-looking fella. Sure, he’d never said it to the man’s face but he’d always thought it. But in those few moments as he watched him, practically brimming with Christmas spirit, Stanford thought he was absolutely beautiful.

A soft smile fell onto Stanford’s face as he started trying to formulate the perfect gift to get Fiddleford once they went back to school. Part of him still felt obligated, he had to return the favor. But Ford also found himself holding onto Fiddleford’s words. He wanted to give Fidds a gift because he wanted to give him something nice. But what could he possibly give the other man? A man who was quickly becoming one of the most important people in his life currently.

A book? Perhaps something about robots? He was certainly an admirable engineer…

Stanford also made sure to get a couple extra jars of Mrs. McGucket’s fruit preserves and save them for whenever he noticed Fiddleford getting homesick once they were back in school.

#fiddauthor #fiddauthorgiftexchnage #the-ill-doctor #fiddleford mcgucket #stanford pines #fiddauthor gift exchange #fiddauthorgiftexchange2018