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fluffyunicornofdanger · 5 years

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Stability

A/N: My dudes, I’m so sorry that I have been kinda MIA. I finally got the Steven Tyler fic out that I had been working on for ages. Well, I’ve been working on this one for a lot longer and it’s finally finished. I hope to get all my current requests done soon. Let’s hope in a timely manner. I just need to get my butt in gear and sit down and write this shit. I also hope to have the second part to songs for any occasion done soon. But, time flies when you’re doing just about anything, so we’ll see. Requests are open and I hope you enjoy. Love you guys!!!

*~~*~~*

Masterlist

Slash x Reader

Summary: Y/n’s parents are like every uptight Christian parents of the 80s. So, thinking Footloose would be the right direction. They want nothing to do with rock music and want to keep their daughter far from it. That is until she starts dating a man in a rock band. Now, Y/n’s afraid that they may never see him the same way she does.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None??? (Slash is referred to by his actual name because Y/n’s parents definitely wouldn’t approve if they had to call him Slash).

Y/n sighed, bored with the conversation that had been going on for what felt like hours even though it had been mere minutes. It wasn’t like it was the first time she’d had to have the conversation - it seemed that every time she’d mention or alluded to rock this conversation would start.

“I’m not saying you can’t date him, Y/n,” her father told her while he flipped through a stack of bills. “All I’m saying is that he isn’t good enough for you. Will he be able to support you once his music career fails? Will he even want to marry you or just discard you once he gets bored?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter, wishing nuclear fall out were an option.

Her mother nodded from her place in front of the stove. “Your father has a point, dear. Stability is key to a happy life and he may not be able to offer you that,” she told her daughter while she stirred the pot in front of her. “So, why waste your time with him if you may never get married?”

Like always, she just shrugged. There was no use in arguing as her parents weren’t going to listen to reason. They were those good Christians that the 80s were known for. And like good Christians of the time, rock music was what the devil listened to and Ronald Reagan was the ideal president. Why not? Y/n didn’t care much for politics, so she never cared to understand what was so great about the president. Rock, on the other hand, was something she cared about but her parents never wanted to hear about.

They had been sucked in on the propaganda about the musical genre that had spread around the neighborhood. Anything of the genre was outlawed in her house, which was alright with her. She was limited when around them and anyone else her parents associated with, but she still had freedom outside of the house. As much as her parents wanted to create a safe enviorment like the pastor in Footloose, it wasn’t going to happen. Whether they liked it or not, she listened to the Devil’s music more than she listened to God’s words.

But what really hurt wasn’t that she couldn’t enjoy herself at home and do as she pleased, it was that anything remotely related to that dreadful music wasn’t good enough for her parents. Y/n didn’t care if they liked the same music she did or called her favorite artists and bands Satanist, what she cared about was that they wouldn’t even given the man she loved a chance.

Y/n groaned, sucking in a deep breath. “Who said I want to get married? And that’s not even close to what I was talking about.”

“Than what were you talking about, dear?” her father asked, hiding behind a newspaper.

“I just wanted to know if Saul could come over for dinner or something like that. You know, so I don’t have to hear any more about how he’s not good enough for me from the two of you when you haven’t even met him.”

“I’ll think about.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing herself off the counter. “You do that, dad, you do that.”

*~~*~~*

Saul rocked on his heels nervously, waiting for the door to open. He had been excited to meet Y/n’s parents, after all, his parents were head over heels in love with her. They wanted to be around her more than him, which stung a little. But, damn, it was better than them hating her. After a few seconds, the door opened, exposing an older woman that Saul assumed to be Y/n’s mother.

Opening the door all the way, the woman smiled, “You must be Saul.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do come it.” She moved out of the way to let him in. “Y/n will be out in a minute. Why don’t we take a seat in the living room.”

It was odd how formal the woman was, but at least she was kind. Her smile didn’t meet her eyes, but how many smiles really did? Y/n didn’t talk about her parents often, but when she did nothing good was said. From what he’d gathered, they were people pleasers and one with the crowd. But, some people were like that, society bred people that way and it took too much strength for some to break away from the crowd.

Stepping into the living, the guitarist glanced over the photos and paintings that dawned the wall. Pictures of Y/n as a small child among her family on vacations, Christmas, and school events. Even if she complained, at least her parents were present. Saul let out a small sigh as he made his way over to the couch, pillows and a blanket strategically placed. He could hear what he thought sounded like a knife hitting a cutting board and feet hitting stairs. Not even a few seconds pasted before Y/n walked into the living room, a huge smile upon her face.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said with a smile, embracing him before looking over his apparel. “And I’m so glad you finally figured out how to dress nicely.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “My mother happened to teach me how to do that, I’ll have you know.”

Y/n glanced behind her to see her mom walk off to the kitchen. Turning to her boyfriend, she let her shoulders relax. Around Saul, she didn’t have to be the good girl her parents wanted her to be. Around him, it seemed that anything and everything was possible. There were no cookie cutters or boxes that she couldn’t think outside of. The world was her’s to conquer with him by her side and she hoped, she prayed to god, that her parents would see that he was more than just some drugged-up rock star.

“She didn’t give you a hard time, did she?”

Saul shook his head, giving her a small smile. “She was actually really polite. You made her out to sound like she tears heads off of children.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. Her mother, tear of heads, not a chance. “She would never do such a thing, not with god watching. And I don’t know why I expected less from her. She’s a saint, I’ll have you know.”

“Then I’m sure my mother will love her. They can discuss saintly things over tea,” he joked, running a hand through his hair, which he through into a neat ponytail.

“My mom doesn’t like tea.”

“Coffee then.”

Before any more could be discussed on what the potential meeting of their mothers, Y/n’s mom poked her head into the room, her presence silencing their conversation.

“Dinner’s ready if you two will head to the table.”

*~~*~~*

With food piled on their plates, everyone was silent. Y/n munched on her green beans, trying to pretend she couldn’t feel the tension that filled the air. Saul seemed unfazed, but Y/n knew better than to believe that. He played cool whether he was internally or not. That was how he went through life. He’s acting skills were amazing whether he knew he possed them or not.

“Y/n tells me your a musician,” her father stated, picking through his salad.

“Yeah, I am,” he confirmed.

Her father shook his head, disappointment written all over it. She knew he was hoping for a different answer. “I hear there isn’t much money in that. Have you considered any other career options?”

Y/n let out a sigh, wishing the world would just swallow her whole. It was no surprise to her that this conversation would come up, but she wished it didn’t matter. The average blue-collar job isn’t for everyone, her father should have known that. Her grandfather was a member of the circus for years. Of course, no one talked about it because it wasn’t an acceptable job in their minds, it still paid the bills.

Placing his silverware on the table, Saul thought for a moment before looking the man in the eye. “Well, I have thought of other career options but I have no passion for them. I know, without a doubt, that music will never be boring to me. Plumbing or accounting or anything else, sure I may make more money doing that, but how long until I get bored? And to be honest, sir, money means nothing to me. It may buy you fancy things, but it really can’t buy happiness, that’s found in the heart.”

Y/n’s father was speechless, but not angry like Y/n and her mother thought he would be. His eyes seemed to light up right before his lips tugged into a smile. “That is a better answer than I gave your father,” he turned to his wife, shaking his head. If only he was smart enough to think of an answer like that.

Y/n couldn’t help but smile with him as she realized that Saul was at least acceptable in her father’s eyes. Her mother, well… she would eventually see the same thing Y/n did. But at least there was no fear of them not approving of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#slash #slash imagine #slash imagines #slash x reader #Saul Hudson #saul hudson imagine #saul hudson fanfiction #saul hudson imagines #saul hudson x reader #guns n roses #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses fanfiction #guns n roses imagines #classic rock #classic rock imagine #classic rock imagines #classic rock fanfiction

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allypacino · 3 years

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15,22,25

Thank you for the ask <3 I RANTED ranted so I'm putting all of it under the line.

I've seen up to 4x20 so far and I think my favourite episode thus far might be "What Is and What Should Never Be" in season 2, the djinn episode (2x20).

I've put some thoughts into this and I think that this might be my favorite example of early SPN for me. Although it deviates from the norm, the general premise still rests within the monster of the week format while allowing for some of the best character exploration of the series. Don't get me wrong, 4x16 lives in my head rent free and I am always thinking about rebelling against authorfathergod, the theological implications of having the work of angels be undone by a leaky pipe, the holiness that lies in fallibility yada yada but I'm aware that the precarious, dizzying potential Supernatural carried did not mean that the episode itself was perfect on paper. On that level, I thought that 2x20 executed its storytelling really well.

It was during a time where the narrative predominantly relied on Sam as the audience-insert protagonist, and having Dean be the one who we relied on was a fascinating change of pace. The show was famously dark during this period with its lighting and the episode flipped it on its head, letting us see Dean's dream world - and get this. John Winchester is dead and Dean and Sam are estranged.

This literally drives me CRAZY. Even in an ideal world John is not around. What does that mean for Dean, who idolised his dad and copied everything he did? It suddenly introduced this fascinating fold in Dean's characterisation, and allowed for the deconstruction of the nuclear family. Paradise is not just mom and dad and two dogs, paradise depends on the people. And Dean was deep down self-aware enough to know that John, as he knew him, would not fit in. He's always been aware, and even though this was season 2, where he was in throes of guilt over the death of his father, he still couldn't see a way he'd be back.

But the saddest part of the episode is how he felt distanced from Sam. His brother meant everything to him, and here they barely spoke to each other. It was clear that the Dean in this universe was a troublemaking alcoholic. Was he afraid that hunting was the only thing he and Sam had in common? Did he think that he was so awful and worthless that without their trauma that bound them together, he'd be cut out of their lives? Was he relieved that he and Sam had their individual lives? It was devastating to see. Oh toxic codependency we're really in it now!!

Apart from the characterisation, the plot was neatly done and I was genuinely kinda scared by the ghostly visions in this a couple of times. So good job on the horror for back when this was a horror show!

So I think that s1-5 are all about the legacy of John Winchester. Even after his death his shadow looms over the entire show. In many ways this show is about John Winchester, because this show is about authorfathergod. Everything is about what John Winchester left behind and every episode is about Sam and Dean dealing with the implications of John Winchester's decisions to give his life or leave them behind or teach them that they need to suck it up. Every couple of episodes Sam and Deam argue about what dad would do and what it means to be made in your father's image, what it means to have always been destined to be cursed, or carry the anger or the stubbornness. Begotten not made. Where did John come from? And is it your father's fault or your father's father's fault, and will you deal with that or will you take his lessons and pass it on. Is it your duty to honour thy father or is it your mission to rebel. Is your religion only your religion because it was passed down to you by your dad? Do you believe in God or do you believe in the fear of God your father put in you? Who is God but a negligent father. Neither of them answer your prayers.

John was in the navy and his militaristic parenting method and the ruthlessness with which he treated monsters defined the tone of the show in its early days. I read yesterday that s1-2 of spn were the most requested dvds by this military division in? Like 2007? And honestly that's the problem!!! The entire show refuses to address the humanisation of monsters and presents them as almost unambiguously evil, with the protagonists never truly confronting what it means to kill the innocent but different. That's the military! John's navy background, in this way, literally sets up one of the primary flaws of the entire show. The inability to see the enemy as worthy of life because they are inherently other. Yikes yikes! As a post-9/11 show, very haunting to see the influences of the American military here knowing what's happening in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Furthermore John was just... A really bad parent. He never celebrated christmas with his sons (let alone any Jewish holidays, I'm assuming, even though Mary had Jewish ancestors), never even took Dean (or Sam) to a baseball game. He neglected his very young children and made Dean the parent of the household, and punished him by sending him away if he strayed from his orders. He was a goddamn drill sergeant and gave his sons so many issues. He told Dean to kill Sam before he died. He never said he was proud of them. And yeah, he drove out to see Sam at Stanford and also gave his life for Dean, but the guy was terrible at raising his kids.

The thing is that John is a righteous man. He's supposed to have never broken in hell, he saved countless lives, he's like the ultimate hero that Sam and Dean can't live up to. And on a narrative level... That's such a cop out, man. This is a character written for those who can't bring themselves to care, or be responsible to their loved ones, but go "I would die for you and I would kill for you". You know the ones. And maybe they even could. But it doesn't matter, because people are in fact nuanced and sacrificial acts of love does not make up for the years of neglect he put his kids through. But yeah, he's complicated. In "In the Beginning" we see how he was such a hopeful mechanic, far removed from what we know him as, but then you think back to the pilots and you remember how the beer bottles started before any demonic activity, and you know that the picturesque family John hammered into Sam and Dean like a religion was never going to last.

I do think some writers were fully aware of his flaws whereas some loved him as a dad, but in many ways I think that that's totally in character for Sam and Dean, who loved their father regardless of everything yet knew that he was an obsessed bastard. Spn is such an inconsistent show that I feel like the story can get so thin sometimes that the secret good version of supernatural is one step away from breaking out from underneath it. I love it no I don't I do <3

I've said a lot about Sam and Dean BUT my favorite character is Castiel so i am at a direct disadvantage having only seen up to 4x20 here! I have a special love for season 2 because it has a lot of my fave motws, and also ended on a really devastating note of Dean making the hell deal, and I like pain. But Castiel Angel of the Lord is in s4 and also this season has legit been really good. I feel like s5 might be my favorite season from what I know of it though. In conclusion... Idk!!! I love Cas but post-hell Sam and Dean are so miserable. Maybe I'd love Dabb era domesticity instead.

Muchtothinkabout.jpeg I am sorry for procrastinating this for 24 hrs and i'm sorry for this long ass ramble <3 hope it's a little entertaining

#suncaptor #asks #spn #authorfathergodhood

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nerdierholler · 4 years

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I was tagged by @slothssassin to do the OC Interview again (thank you so much!). This time I’m going with my Fallout 76 OC Wash, since I’ve been playing a lot of that this week. Plus it gives me a chance to work on his background and personality a bit more.

I have no idea who has done this so if you want to do this, tag me and tell me about your OC!

Wash’s dad was a journalist before the bombs fell so I’m imagining this is his dad interviewing him some time after they’ve been out of the vault and each gone off to do their own thing for a while.

name ➔ Charles Washington, although most people call me Wash, *laughs* except for my dad. You’ve always called me by my first name.

are you single ➔ Well, I can’t say I found a lot of options once we left the vault, so yes.

are you happy ➔ I don’t know, maybe? I mean, it kinda sucks out here but I’m not yelling into my pillow at night or wondering why I even keep trying to make living anymore, so I’m better than I have been.

are you angry ➔ I can’t say I’m pissed off about anything specific at the moment but, you know, there’s a little resentment about how unprepared we were for all of this. I mean, what the fuck did they think life was going to be like after near total nuclear annihilation? Did they really just think that big door would open and we would emerge, fresh and clean, to rebuild society and remind them of what it used to be like? That was someone’s fucking pipe dream and we’re all paying for it now. Ok, now I might be a little angry. Moving on.

are your parents still married ➔ Really, Dad? Why are you asking me this? I don’t know, are you? Do you think Mom miraculously survived all this shit and gives a damn about us again? That she’s out there looking for us?

*sighs* I’m sorry, Dad. I know, you basically ask everyone the same questions. Let’s talk about something else.

NINE FACTS

birthplace ➔ In a hospital somewhere in DC, back before the bombs. Like a normal baby.

hair color ➔ It’s been pink for a while now and I don’t have any plans to change it but as far as I can tell, it’s still a very boring brown color underneath.

eye color ➔ Green, goes really nicely with the pink hair.

birthday ➔ May 17 2073

mood ➔ Well now I’m kind of grumpy after getting all worked up but, I don’t know, I’m fine in general, no mood in particular.

gender ➔ Male

summer or winter ➔ I’m still getting used to the seasons, I barely remember them from when I was younger. From what I can tell, summer is better, winter is just trying not to be so goddamned cold all the time.

morning or afternoon ➔ Afternoon. Unless I’m traveling or have a project I need to work on, I see no reason to get up early.

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ Well, I love myself, and I love you Dad, and I love Nuka Cola but that’s probably not what you’re asking about.

do you believe in love at first sight ➔ Since I’ve never seen anyone “at first sight”, it’s hard to say. I mean no new people ever showed up at in vault and there’s no one out here to meet. Seems like an overly romantic idea though.

who ended your last relationship ➔ That would be me, back in the vault.

have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ Considering my last answer, maybe?

are you afraid of commitments ➔ I want to say no but I know you’ll give me that look if I do. See, there it is, that one. I’m not great a sticking with things, or people sometimes, but I’d like to think I’m getting better.

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Just you Dad. You know how it is though, you can go days without seeing someone and I’m not running out to hug every human I happen across. I’ll go weeks without touching another person. And, uh, yeah, that gets hard sometimes.

have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ The vault wasn’t a great place for secrets but if you’re going for a traditional shy teenager crush thing, then, yeah I did. Damn it, now I’m going to blush.

have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ That’s a weird question. Nothing jumps out, so I guess not?

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ Well, this is awkward. If you want the truth though... yes? Both? Sometimes they go together, sometimes they don’t. I don’t think they have to be opposites, just different kinds of relationships is all.

lemonade or iced tea ➔ Iced tea, mostly because the lemonade in vault was that dry mix stuff. All the old timers said it was terrible compared to the real thing. I suspect I’ll never know anything different.

cats or dogs ➔ Seeing as most of the dogs I’ve met are horribly radiated mutants who want to kill me, I’m going to have to go with cats.

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ I guess I was fairly popular, so lots of regular friends.

wild night out or romantic night in ➔ A wild night out around here means actually fending off the wildlife so romantic night in, I suppose. Though, still single so that’s really only in theory.

day or night ➔ It’s easier to see things coming during the day, but if I’m at home, I can be a bit of a night owl. Back in the vault I was stayed up late a lot, it was quieter then, fewer people around. Except for the random screams that come from the Alpine Cabins, and the generators, it’s always quiet now and there are almost never people around. I guess I got my wish in some ways.

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ Yes.... *laughs* You caught me a few times.

fallen down/up the stairs ➔ Who hasn’t? Didn’t one of the scientist keep a tally in the vault for “research” purposes?

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ This is another one where I think most people have. I used to really miss Mom when I was younger but I’m not sure if I actually missed her or the idea of her.

wanted to disappear ➔ Alllllll of the time back in vault. If you did anything embarrassing everyone knew about in a few hours.

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ Depends on the person. I will say though, out here a friendly smiles goes a long way.

shorter or taller ➔ Doesn’t matter. The vault taught me not be too picky on that account.

intelligence or attraction ➔ Wow, some asking really hard hitting questions here, Dad. I, uh, guess it depends on what the relationship goal is? Long term, intelligence.

hook-up or relationship ➔ Whatever both people agree too. I wouldn’t and haven’t said no to either one and I don’t think that is going to change in the immediate future. Happy now? Just remember, you asked.

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ I don’t know, Dad, do we? *laughs* I think we do alright. At least I’m not a teenager anymore though.

would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ Everything about this world is messed up. I would say, mine’s not as messed up as some people’s, but no one inside or outside the vault walked away without scars of some kind.

have you ever ran away from home ➔ Can’t say there was really anywhere to run to. Even if there was, I never thought about it.

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ I’m sure there were days when you wanted to, but I’m glad you didn’t.

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ Well, I don’t really have friends anymore. When I was younger, I think there were times when I was jealous but not so much that it became hate.

do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ Back when I had friends, no.

who is your best friend ➔ Wow, just rubbing it in now, aren’t you, Dad?

who knows everything about you ➔ That would probably be you. And I’m ok with that.

#fallout 76 #charles washington #vault dweller #tag meme #I've decided Wash and his dad's relationship #is a lot like Hawkeye and his dad from MASH #life at nerdy holler

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southcrnsweets · 4 years

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Magnolia’s Questionnaire

NAME: Magnolia Bishop AGE: 25 GENDER & PRONOUNS: cisfemale & she/her FACECLAIM: Dove Cameron OCCUPATION: florist @ busy bee’s

Q. What is your earliest memory?

Magnolia didn’t stop the gentle smile that formed on her lips at the question, “I was three, I think,” began she, fiddling with her hair as she ran the events over in her mind, probably half story she remembered and half her actual memory. “My mom was running late so she told my dad to help me with my hair… Now, we all know my daddy is not the gentlest of men, his hands are made for a lot, but not hair. But I’ll be damned if that man did not sit down behind me, on the floor, and slowly try to braid my hair.” Magnolia laughed a bit, smile still on her face, “It was ugly, I won’t lie, there are pictures before my momma fixed it, but he tried, and the whole time he just kept telling me how sorry he was if he pulled my hair too hard.”

Q. Who do you admire & why?

“My grandma.” The answer came out before Magnolia could even really think, but it was true. “My mom’s mom. See, my grandpa died when my mom was maybe fifteen? And she had four younger sisters. You know how us girls are when we’re in our teens and preteens.” Magnolia had no shame in referring to her more wild times. “But my grandma raised those five girls to be some incredible and strong women, just like her. My aunts and my mom are probably in a close second, but it’s all in thanks to the woman who raised them. That, on top of running the family farm? Honestly, goals if I wanted to get into the farm life.” Internally, Magnolia was thankful that her older sister was the shoe in for that mantle in their family.

Q. Do you call your mother every day or only on occasions like her birthday, Mother’s Day, & Christmas?

The laugh that fell from Magnolia’s lips was awkward almost, because she knew the real answer — and what she wanted to say. “Alright, I’d like to say I call her maybe once a week, but if you ask her then it’s every day.” Okay, maybe even sometimes more than once in a day. “Listen! I suck at laundry okay! There’s so much that woman knows and it’d be a crime not to learn from her!”

Q. What bad habit are you struggling to overcome?

“Oh, I play with my hair when I’m nervous, hands down the worst giveaway ever.” In fact, she was doing it right then and there. Magnolia did it when she was thinking, when she was worried, when she was scared… She did it a lot, but she’d only admit to one emotion being the cause.

Q. What scent or song reminds you of your childhood? Why?

“Just Fishin’, by Trace Adkins.” Magnolia hummed a few bars of the song at the mention. “My fish loving daddy didn’t have any sons, and I’ve been told I begged him over and over until he finally agreed to take me. After that we were fishing buddies every time.”

Q. What keeps you up at night?

“Weird noises.” Which was odd, because Magnolia grew up in a creeky old house that made noises at any given point of the night. “I dunno why, but when I moved out and into my own little place, it’s like the noises just aren’t the same as my parent’s house, and I’m always waking up from the strangest of things. That reminds me, I need to get those dang trees trimmed.”

Q. What was your worst injury?

“Gotta be my senior year, around April I think. A group of friends and I decided to sneak out. No big deal, just go down to the river for some late night swimming, nothing too wild. Well, my bedroom is on the second floor of my parent’s house, and there is this beautiful trellis of ivy right outside of my window. Practically begging me to use it, right?” And she had, so many times before. “Well, I guess those nails were rusted because the second I started climbing down, it went.” And she used her hand to show the trellis falling from the side of her house. “It was 1am, and my parents came running out because of the noise, also known as my scream. We had a fun ride to the nearest hospital, and I had to get the bone in my ankle reset. It’s the whole reason I didn’t go off to college and stayed here.”

Q. What’s your strongest relationship like & who is it with?

“Can I just say my parents? Like is that lame?” Magnolia laughed, a small snort falling from her lips. “Oh god, don’t tell anyone about that!” Of course, she knew there were no secrets in town, and it was hardly the first time she snorted. “Seriously though, my parents are incredible, I would be nothing without them. I know I can rely on them for anything, everything, and even if I may get a lecture, they’ll always be there for me.”

Q. What advice would you give your younger self?

“If you’re going to sneak out, for the love of god, don’t use the trellis.” Magnolia shook her head, ankles crossing and uncrossing as she thought of the injury.

Q. Have you ever climbed the water tower?

“I meaaaaaaan….” Magnolia trailed off, guilty grin clear on her face. “Who hasn’t?” She finally said with a giggle, not fully admitting it, but not denying it either.

Q. What’s the hottest piece of gossip ever spread around town about you?

“Ugh, please, you don’t want to get me started on this.” Magnolia wrinkled her nose, a clear sign that she was not a fan of the subject. “It’s no secret that the kids around here sneak out, but get caught and it’s like you’re the new town harlot. I swear. Seventeen and I got the nastiest side eyes for at least three years.”

Q. Who’s your least favorite townsperson & why?

“Alright, I’m only telling if you don’t.” After all, family was family. “My dad’s mom, my Gran. I swear to goodness, I love that woman so much, but I do no right in her eyes and I should already be married with two babies. I get it, she’s set in her ways, but ooooo, that woman judgy.”

Q. Who do you really think is the one loosening the cheese shakers at The Cuttery?

“Ooo, I swear it is little Timmy Hartford. I caught him breaking the stems of flowers at the Busy Bee so my money’s on him.” A gentle smirk formed on her lips though, “But I guess I can’t blame him, after all his momma did up and leave him and his daddy a few years ago.”

Q. Have you ever seen the Wharton Creek Witch?

“Nope, no way, no thank you.” It wasn’t that she believed in the stories, but they were creepy as hell. “I don’t go near the creek if I can help it.”

Q. Do you live to tell the tale of competing or even beating the wing challenge from Bootlegger’s?

“Listen here. I’m a wimp. A huge, spice hating wimp.” No shame? Perhaps not. “I can’t eat anything spicy, and even the mild is too hot. You think I’d be able to eat even one of those hot wings? The word ‘nuclear’ is enough to shy me off for good.”

#❝ 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩 〉

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killervibe · 5 years

Text

you should see me in a crown

Theme: Day 3 - Doppelgängers.

Words: 7.5k

Notes: Massive shout out to @brainynia who helped create this universe and @vibefrost for her awesome fanart for this fic.

Warning: This is a bit of a dark fic.

~.~

Amalia wiped the rain soaked hair out of her eyes and gritted her teeth, staring down from the high rise edge. Her footing flirted with balance as her dad’s eyes bore into the back of her skull. Dawn peeked from darkness over the horizon of Central City, but it was still dark and bitterly cold here in the shadows.

“Where is your suit?”

She narrowed her eyes through her goggles, zeroing in on her focal point. A lady with twisted yellow coloured pants hauled her baggage down the empty sidewalk, opening up her bodega.

“I don’t need it.”

“The hell you don’t,” Reverb growled.

Amalia stiffened, she did. But only for a moment. Only for a second before stepping over the drop.

She braced for the heart pounding exhilaration and drop dead fear of free fall. For the wind to whip wildly against her face, but a strong hand reached out and pulled her back roughly. Amalia stumbled, breathing heavily as she landed back on the roof, her breach sucking closed.

“Dad! What the hell?”

She glanced where his gauntlet glove was pressed on her arm. His hand was long gone but her stomach twisted yearningly for it to return there and she hated that.

“Wear the fucking suit I made for you or we’re done.”

She stepped backwards, further from the ledge of the roof to the laddered exit. “Fine with me.” Amalia rolled her eyes. “I don’t even want to frickin' be here.”

“Excuse me?”

That burning anger in her dad’s eyes never failed to scare her. But she knew how to avoid his wrath just as easily as she knew how to crush someone’s bones with a clench of her fist. “I said. I don’t want to be here,” she snarled. Her hair was starting to frizz under the downpour and she swore under her breath, wiping the rain droplets from her goggles again until she gave up on doing that and hurled them into a vortex that would land on her severely unmade bed her dad had dragged her out of too early this morning.

Reverb laughed once, the sound coming out hollow. It was nearly impossible to make out what he was thinking or feeling, with his eyes now covered up again just like hers were, but she thinks she mustered her desired effect. The corner of his mouth curled up. It felt an awful lot like quiet, vile respect. His hair plastered against the back of his neck and he suddenly knelt down in a puddle until his leather pants were drenched. Amalia swallowed down her apprehension as she looked down at him before her, the way he remained calm and chillingly collected.

“You are a child,” he said. “You know nothing about this world and what it will do to you. And until you excel at everything with the finesse of an expert, you will train. You will work. You will breach and vibe blast every morning until you prove you don’t need me.”

“I don’t need you,” she spat.

“Don’t lie to me, nena.” Reverb got up from the cracked cemented ground. “Do what I say.”

Reverb pointed into the blue circling breach behind her without a care, like he were about to banish her to the hellish underworld. “Go home and don’t come back until you’re dressed properly. Don’t make me wait.”

Amalia groaned in frustration, sticking out her middle finger at her unfazed father but obeyed because she had to.

Her boots squelched on the hard floor at home. She shucked them off and passed a mirror. She remarkably resembled the likeness of a drowned rat. She sighed, wringing out her hair as she grumbled under her breath.

“Fuck this shit. Fuck training. Fuck my life. ”

“—Amalia?”

Amalia looked up to see her mother still in her black satin bathrobe, her silver hair piled up in a lazy bun on the top of her head.

“Mom.”

Her mom returned to the master bedroom and emerged with a fluffy towel, draping it over Amalia’s shoulders and drying her off. The teen melts into her mother’s touch and smiles for the first time that day.

Killer Frost gave a little smirk as she dried off her daughter, placing an ice cold kiss to her forehead.

“What’s the matter? Daddy’s causing you trouble?”

Amalia frowned at herself for being so readable.

That’s dangerous, dad always tells her. It leaves girls vulnerable and exposed to being cheated.

Still, she nodded, biting her lip.

Killer Frost rolled her eyes with resignation, and kissed her again, resting her cheek against her damp hair. “Tell me he at least fed you.”

Amalia made a vague noise. “We had a few twizzlers.”

Her mother scoffed. “I meant breakfast. ”

“Is that not breakfast?” she mumbled back.

The arms around her are not warm, never have been, but they’re the best comfort Amalia has ever known, and she’d cling to her forever if she could.

“Mama, I don’t want to go.”

“I know,” she hushed, running her long nails down her back. “I know, but you know your dad. He just wants you to be your best.”

“Doesn’t feel that way.”

“No?” Killer Frost smothered her forehead with as many kisses Amalia could tolerate before brain freeze washed over, and she had to gently push her mom away.

“I’m sorry,” her mom apologized, walking down the stairs towards the kitchen, the steps frosting over behind her. Amalia watched her step as she followed. “I just woke up.”

Killer Frost flicked on a kettle and grabbed her Kill dampener necklace to clasp against her throat. “There we go.”

The tech lit up, signaling its activation. The hair on her mother’s head grew duller, not quite so starkly and Amalia smiled at her open arms, running to nestle back into her side.

“Amalia, my sweet dangerous girl. Happy birthday.”

“It’s really today?” Amalia peered into the cup of tea that was slid to her across the long dinner table. She found it amusing that her parents refused to give her coffee, as if she hadn’t figured out where they kept it on her own.

Her mom chuckled, raising an amused eyebrow. “Same day as every year since you were born. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Dunno.” Amalia played with her chipped black nails. “Thought I’d feel older.”

She took a sip of the black tea, warming up slightly.

Nora West-Allen boasted her ass off when she turned thirteen. Amalia thought maybe it meant something then. To be a teenager. But then again, Nora had always been an over-dramatic pathological liar.

“Well you look it. Certainly not my baby anymore.”

“Then won’t dad stop treating me like one?”

A funny expression passed Killer Frost’s face. One Amalia didn’t understand.

“He’s not treating you like a baby,” she said firmly.

“Right,” Amalia muttered, irritation itching under her skin. “Forgot how obsessed you were with him and how it warps your judgement.”

Her mom’s eyes flashed a warning as she snapped her fingers, instantaneously instilling a cold front that sent chills down Amalia’s back. It was her mom’s favourite form of discipline and it damn worked too. Killer Frost’s dry finger snap echoed loudly as she scolded her to watch her mouth.

She knew she wasn’t allowed to talk about her mom and dad that way. But god, why the hell not? The way her dad put his hands all over mom all the time left Amalia oftentimes nauseated. Joss had once taunted her for it. Called her the product of a noxious nuclear family up in flames.

“You’re just jealous that my dad knows of my existence,” she’d sneer back and get slapped for it. The sting on her cheek was never so bad in light of the look on Joss’s face.

“Amalia,” her mom said now. “Why’d he send you back?”

“We’re done for the morning,” she lied. “What’s my present?”

A noise swooped above them before Killer Frost could answer, and Reverb came stalking into their kitchen, trailing a river’s worth of water behind him. “Oh, so you’re not dead? Because I can’t think of any other reason for why it’s taking you so damn long to do as I said. ”

Amalia’s mom glared pointedly. “You were leaving him waiting? You told me you were done.”

“Lying to your mother now, too?”

Reverb leaned his arm across the dinner table to kiss Killer Frost.

“Good morning,” he murmured, kissing her some more. She yanked at his collar, dragging him closer to kiss properly.

He smirked and let her go, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket with that glassy grin he sported everytime he got his way with her. He smacked his lips, plopping down in his chair, and threw his own jacket on the floor.

“You’d lie to that face?” He pointed at her mom. “Wow nena. That’s diabolical.”

Amalia rolled her eyes.

“Back off, honey. It’s her birthday.”

Reverb hummed distractedly, stealing her mom’s tea cup and finishing it all in one long gulp. “Oh? Is it?”

Amalia stared at him, her jaw dropping slightly with disbelief. She could hardly believe his audacity. Her dad didn’t even remember?

Killer Frost smacked his thigh. “Cisco.”

He looked up from the empty mug, startled, then caught Amalia’s heated glare and snorted. “Oh my god, I was teasing you. I know it’s your damn birthday.”

Reverb’s face softened for a minute and he gave her a somewhat fond smile. “Happy birthday, mi pequeña reina.”

For one moment, Amalia’s heart soared.

“Now put on your suit.”

“Ugh!”

“Now.”

Amalia stood up abruptly, screeching back her chair and stomped away.

“Whaaaat?” she heard him yelp from down the hall. “Not so cold! It was a shit training session. We got nothing done!”

~.~

Her room was large, beautiful and lonely. Amalia pressed her palm against the wall scan with little enthusiasm as the wardrobe opposite raised and whirred, exposing the glass case. Her goggles still sat in a wet spot on her bed. She ignored it for now, pulling her long sleeve shirt over her head.

She passed her mirror and stopped, looking at her own reflection calculatingly.

Her hair was too curly.

Her face too round.

Amalia’s fingers traced over her scars, messy and ugly all over her stomach and arms.

The rest of her was... too damaged.

Her suit taunted her from its stand, waiting for her to give its attention.

Well. Whatever. Her dad won’t shut up until he gets what he wants, she might as well get it over with. Maybe then she’d get to do what she wanted for the rest of the day.

She shimmied into the tight pants and let the glass case open to reveal her purple suit, slipping her arms into the leather and fastening it closed. She put on new socks and grabbed her high tops, lacing them up.

After blow drying her hair so she’d no longer catch pneumonia, she slipped her goggles on and came downstairs.

Her parents didn’t notice she was back. Amalia stood with her arms crossed over her chest, clearing her throat as her dad had her mother half laid on the table, climbing over her to ravish. Killer Frost’s pale skin peeked out, exposed from the slinky bathrobe slipping down her shoulders as Reverb ran his hand underneath whatever was hiding under there.

Amalia gagged, going green. Maybe Joss was half right. This was noxious.

“Mom? Daaaad? Hellooooo?”

Reverb knocked off everything on the table with a haphazard sweep. Ceramic mugs went crashing to the ground. Killer Frost moaned.

Amalia threw up her hands and quickly walked away. This entire family was a bag of cats. One minute her dad loses his shit over her not wearing a damn jacket with the shoes to match and the next she bothers to give a damn only to find him sticking his tongue down her mom’s throat like they were on a one tacked-minded mission to make Amalia a baby brother.

She peeled off the suit and put it back in on its stand then straightened her shoulders and turned away, changing into something else to wear as she waited for her flat iron to warm up.

She ran it over her curls until they were pin straight, snuck into her mother’s bathroom and scoured through the cabinets for her makeup to apply eyeliner and lipstick. She laughed as she messed it up the first time. Nora made it look easy. Soon she was looking the way she felt she should, now that she was a teenager and she contemplated what to do with the rest of her day.

Amalia knew she couldn’t breach out of her room without her dad somehow figuring out.

He was scarily on point with that. So she got on her hands and knees and pulled out the cardboard box with her old stuffed animals from the back wall in her closet, shifting open the tunnel she had stumbled upon three years ago. Neither her mom nor her dad knew about this exit, and the day Amalia found it she nearly cried with excitement. For a girl who could go wherever she wanted to, she felt pretty trapped. The tunnel was her life boat. She wouldn’t know what she’d do without it. Amalia looped her fingers through her handle of her packed bag, and crawled through the opening until she landed in the dead field off the side of her house.

She squinted up at the sky. Sunlight now streamed in through the clouds. The dark threatening ones have rolled away. This pleased her as she made her trek down the path, through the secluded forest, and out the back gate. She glanced back at the estate over her shoulder. Killer Frost told fanciful stories of how they acquired the large mansion in the farthest overshadowed edge of Central City. How it was abandoned, and the perfect escape from other powerful meta-families they had to protect themselves from. Amalia used to listen to those stories with wonder, admiring their badassery.

She knows now the gaps in the stories. How she had once tripped over an old portrait of the family who used lived here. How her parents most likely murdered whoever this place must’ve belonged to. She wondered what family could live here, luxurious in solitude and equipped with a basement fit for Reverb’s lair.

She shrugged, adjusting her shoulder strap. Couldn’t have been any better people than them.

Amalia grew tired of walking, and flicked her wrist to open a breach. She landed in Nora’s bedroom.

Nora and Joslyn shrieked when she appeared, caught off guard where they were lounging on Nora’s giant canopy bed.

“God, and I thought Nora was bad,” Joss muttered once she caught her breath.

“Hi Amalia.” Nora flattened her braid. “Oh my god, my dad would have a fit if he knew you were here.” Her eyes lit up with mischief, nearly vibrating in place.

Amalia shoved Joss off her spot on Nora’s bed. “Then don’t tell him.” She was in no mood to see The Flash today. Nora’s father gave her nightmares.

“I was sitting there.”

“Shut up Joss, let her sit. It’s Amalia’s birthday.” Nora leaned forward and hugged her.

Amalia froze. Nora was a bit of what she’d call a sporadic whirlwind. Her temper rested on an interval about the width of a hair, her mood pendulum swinging from manic pixie to borderline psychopathic. Her reputation as XS was there for a reason. Just three days ago Nora threatened a hand through her chest when she pissed her off, her eyes burning red with negative speed force.

Nora’s fingernails dug into the fabric of Amalia’s shirt, clinging tight.

Amalia patted her back awkwardly, shooting Joss a helpless look.

Weather Witch stood up abruptly. “Are you coming with us? We were just planning on meeting Raya.”

“Where?”

“Downtown,” said Nora, pulling away. The speedster zipped off and returned with some fancy looking tech.

“Don’t tell Don, but I took these modulators I found from when I was snooping in his room. So shway.” She handed the devices for her friends to look at. “Dad pawned them from—” Nora looked up. “From your dad actually,” she said, nodding to Amalia. “They make everyone around you easily susceptible to your demands. We can walk into wherever we want with whatever we want.”

“Power of persuasion,” Joss said. “I like it.”

Amalia liked it too. But she didn’t like downtown. She trained there, sure, but only in the early morning before the rest of the city was awake, so high up and above all the mass destruction, she felt she was touching the skyline.

“Doesn’t that violate your parole?”

Nora laughed like it was the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard.

Amalia kicked at an empty Big Belly Burger bag left on Nora’s floor. A fry carton rolled over littering salt all over the carpet.

She hasn’t been to juvie. Not yet, says Joss.

Not ever , swears Amalia’s parents.

No, she hasn’t been to juvie but she has almost been caught and it was always because of Raya and Nora trying to pull off some ridiculous downward spiralling scheme.

The girls were somewhat older than her, Amalia the second youngest after Nora of the four. They had seen things Amalia hasn’t yet, and she knows they all have bitterness they keep inside.

But sometimes Amalia can’t help but think she’s the only one with a screwed-on functioning oxygen flowing brain.

Nora turned on her heel, dragging Amalia by the hand out her door. Joss followed closely behind. They passed Nora’s brother in the hall. Amalia lowered her head, refusing to meet his gaze.

Amalia feared Don.

She tugged on Nora’s tightly clasped hand to urge her to use her powers and speed the schrap up.

“Are those my modulators?” Don asked, his voice vibrating in his signature gritty monster pitch, resembling the sound of a broken scream.

“No,” Nora said like an idiot. “They’re Amalia’s.”

Amalia raised her head, alarmed. She began to stutter, absolutely not wanting to get into Don’s warpath.

“Like Amalia has the balls to steal something from me. She wouldn’t dare.”

Joss huffed. “Whatever. Nora is borrowing them, leave us alone and we’ll get out of your hair.”

“Joss! You bitch!”

Amalia’s hair flew into her face as the wind whirled around her. Nora’s hand was no longer clutched on hers. She looked up to find the Tornado Twins brawling against the walls, lightning crackling between them as Nora screamed at her brother. The story goes that the two have been fighting since they were in diapers and Amalia often wondered how far their hatred for the other would go. There was no love between them, not even mutual respect. She held her breath as her stomach twisted with unease when Don banged Nora’s head against the floor, begging this wasn’t the day Don killed her.

Amalia turned to Joss. “Aren’t you worried for her life?”

The older teen rolled her eyes, raising her weather staff to strike lightning and zolted the twins with a bolt.

The twins sprang apart, seizing on the floor as Weather Witch spat in Don’s face. “Learn some fucking chill.”

She zapped him again for good measure as he flopped unconscious on the floor. She picked the stolen tech from his limp grasp and returned them to Nora, offering her a hand to help her sit up.

Nora heaved, wiping blood from her nose. “I didn’t need that. I had him.”

Amalia opened a breach and Joss threw her staff through the dimensional tear into Nora’s bedroom.

“Sure, XS.”

The girls met up with Silver Ghost and put their plan into motion. Nora fastened the modulator to the base of Amalia’s neck, getting really close. “There,” XS said. “It looks like a cool tattoo.”

Her skin pinched her under the tight claws of the attachment but she swallowed and agreed to make her life easier in hopes to mollify Nora.

The tech worked like a charm. Raya and Joss managed to bankrupt three boutiques with the loot stolen from the two of them, Amalia standing behind watching with internal bafflement as they kindly asked the high end manager to hand over all their expensive clothes for free. Amalia managed to swipe some makeup of her own in her proper colour shade, knowing her mother’s porcelain-like skin would look like halloween makeup on herself.

By mid afternoon, the sun was beating on their backs, and their arms were heavy from holding bags with more than they knew what to do with.

Amalia swept her dark hair to the side, away from the the hidden modulator. She pried it off like a prickly thistle. Amalia considered the tiny machine. Could she...control dad? If she kept it?

Like hell that was a good idea. Tempting as it were.

Nora said Reverb made them. Amalia blinked back down at the modulator.

Had...Her dad ever used these on her? Would he?

She didn’t think so.

Would her father really sell tech that could make people susceptible to The Flash’s will, of all people? No. She knew Reverb’s trade better than anyone. He wouldn’t give up dangerous tech to him unless he wanted The Flash to have it. Or it wasn’t as dangerous as perceived.

Amalia nodded to herself and held out her arm, the bug in the palm of her outstretched hand.

“I think I’m done now.”

“Says who?” sassed Nora.

Suddenly, a blue breach appeared in front of the teens. Its swirling vortex swished menacingly, beckoning Amalia back home. She hid her grin.

Silver Ghost snorts. “Uh oh. Daddy’s calling.”

Amalia shrugged, making a show of shuffling her feet forward as if this wasn’t what she was secretly (embarrassingly) wishing for.

“I gotta go.”

“Loser,” taunted Nora, her eyes narrowing angrily. But XS changed her mind at the last minute and instead gave Amalia a smile. “Actually, you know what. It’s okay. You go. Happy birthday.” She pulled a lacy purple bodysuit from one of her many bags. “I got you this. You’ll look great in it.”

Amalia shoved the bodysuit into her own bag hastily. “Wow. Cool.”

“Bye, Amalia,” said Joss, but she seemed already bored, moving further down the street to follow Raya.

Reverb was waiting for Amalia at the other side of the breach with his arms crossed.

Home was dark, Amalia thought as her vision adjusted to the lack of light. The breach sucked close behind, locking her in.

A finger beckoned her over. Amalia dropped her bags in the hall and sauntered breezily.

“Hi daddy,” she greeted innocently, playing up her big brown eyes.

“Hmph.” He pointed at the carpeted floor under his chair. “Sit.”

Amalia sighed and did as she was told, crossing her legs.

“Had fun with your little juvenile friends?”

She raised a cheeky eyebrow. “Had fun defiling mom on the kitchen table?”

Reverb’s face first slackened with honest surprise but corrected itself quickly, rearranging into a sly smile sparkled with mirth. He tapped his nose. “Touche.”

Amalia spread her hands backwards as she looked up at her dad expectantly, wondering exactly how much hot water she was in and what she could get away with.

It was like he could read her mind.

“So,” he said at last, leaning forward. “What did we learn on our little field trip today?”

“Uh.” Hey eyebrows pulled together in thought. “That Nora’s a bitch?”

Reverb laughed, seemingly pleased. Amalia said the right thing. Her shoulders relaxed as her father’s own rigid posture began to melt away. “She’s a West-Allen. We already knew that.” He waited for more.

Amalia thought of Nora’s grabby hands. “And she’s clingy. It’s kind of creepy.”

“Is she?”

“Kinda,” Amalia said again, not wanting him to get the wrong idea and ruin the girl.

She watched her father toy with an idea with slight trepidation.

“Daddy,” she said. “It’s whatever. It’s no big deal.”

He waved her off. “Nah, I know it’s not. But don’t ignore it. Work with it.”

“—But.”

“Use it to your advantage. With time you could probably get her to do what you want. Wouldn’t that be nice, nena?”

Amalia didn’t know what to say.

“I guess.”

Reverb rolled his eyes. “Good. Well. You’re excused.” He motioned his fingers in a little runaway gesture. “Go on. Ditch day’s been hard on Flopsy not me. That’s animal cruelty, you know.”

She gasped, guilt eating at her core and she ran up to her room because her father was right.

Her bed was unmade, her blankets spilled over the floor from where she was dragged out by, and she nearly tripped over her markers.

She scooped her bunny up from its cage, cuddling its quivering body to her chest. She cooed at him, stroking his velvety fur.

Flopsy’s nose twitched.

“Are you hungry?” she crooned. The bag of imported baby carrots next to his cage was near empty. She took the last three and deposited her pet on the floor, plopping him between her legs. She waved a carrot in front of him, beckoning him to come get his lunch.

Flopsy didn’t move.

“You dumb blind bunny.”

She cupped Flopsy’s fluffy butt, and drew him closer to feed him.

Amalia’s thoughts wandered.

Thirteen, she thought.

Thirteen.

Amalia Ramon is goddamn thirteen years old and is celebrating it with a rousing round of manipulative shoplifting, homeschooled supervillain lessons, and a dumb blind rabbit to call her own.

Fuck.

~.~

Amalia’s alarm lights flashed around in her room, her alert system she had created which warned that her father was about to breach in unannounced. She threw Nora’s gift and her swiped goods under her bed, scooped Flopsy, and picked up her abandoned sketch book. She just managed to plop into her chair as her father stepped in. She looked up, playing casual.

“Normal people knock before entering a teenager’s room,” she greeted dryly.

“Oh? Is that what you are now, nena?” He strolled right in. “Your bed isn’t made.”

Amalia rolled her eyes in disdain. Nena. Baby. How many more years will it take for him to stop calling her that? And does Reverb pull the sheets up his bed? She didn’t think so.

Amalia didn’t know, honestly. It’s been years since she’s been in their room.

“I thought we had people to do that.”

“I have people to do that. Because I have that power. You’re not there yet.”

Amalia turned a page, analyzing her old drawings. “Uh huh.”

“Wow, you’re sound so bored Amalia, it’s like you’re begging me to return your present.”

Amalia sucked in an excited breath, snapping her gaze up at him. “Present??”

Sure enough, her father had reached into a breach and pulled out a gift box, wrapped in ribbon and paper with blue and gold. “What? You thought I forgot?”

Killer Frost peeked her head into the room. “I heard the word present.”

Amalia let go of Flopsy, leaving him to hop over her blanket and made grabby hands.

Reverb dropped the box onto her lap. Amalia tore off the lid with a frenzied eagerness, the tissue paper inside going flying.

Inside was a crown. She lifted it out of the case, inspecting closely. It had to have been stolen. The gems in it were real, and so was the silver. Her father’s proud smirk confirmed her theory.

“Whose was it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Killer Frost reassured with a small smile. “It’s yours now.”

Reverb went to place it on her head. Amalia grimaced, ready for the crushing weight, but found that it was light.

“...How?” she wondered aloud, reaching up to her head to feel for herself.

“I played around with its properties. It’s not worth giving you migraines, mi pequeña reina.”

Amalia stared at her lap, willing herself not to cry.

Stop being stupid. Stop seeking his validation. You don’t fucking care.

But she did.

Amalia stood up and made her way to her mirror, appreciating her reflection.

She rolled back her shoulders, stood tall and made herself look proud.

Killer Frost came beside her and kissed her cheek. “Happy birthday. You are our whole world.” Her mom glanced at her father, who merely crossed his arms silently. She shot him an expectant look.

“You’re better than anyone in this fucking place,” he said. “Don’t forget that.”

Amalia returned him the box. Their fingers brushed, and the tell tale sign of her father being thrown into a vision mirrored her own. She breathed in sharply through her nose as the room tilted, tinging blue.

There, she saw herself throwing a powerful blast as her father slammed someone down by the jaw against a table. They worked in tandem. Her eyes were hidden beneath the goggles, but her body language screamed that she was at ease turning enemies to bones and dust.

The image flickered, and there she were again, older, taller, with long nails like her mother and the very same crown atop of her head. She gave a conceited smirk, perched on her father’s ‘throne’, the ornamental furniture which centrepieces Reverb’s basement lair. Her legs were lazily swung over the edge, her head tipped to the side in amusement. The gauntlets on her gloves were smoking.

She raised an eyebrow challengingly, acknowledging her. Hello nena.

A chill ran down Amalia’s spine. They both gasped out of it, her father a bit more loudly.

He gave her a sidelong glance, his mouth twitching at the corners, pleased. But she was scared of what he saw, and what it means.

He put his hand on her back for a second. Amalia felt his warmth through her clothes. “You’re better than anyone in this place,” he repeated once again, his voice sounding far away. “I saw it.”

Reverb walked out. Killer Frost watched him go. She studied Amalia, unable to read what just transpired.

“We’ll go shopping in the morning,” she informed curtly then nodded. “We can have dinner at seven. Tell me what you want and I'll make it happen.”

Flopsy nibbled at her toes, thinking they were carrots as Amalia remained frozen in her bedroom, wearing her beautiful crown.

Fuck. Fuck.

She was thirteen with a promising career in terrorizing in front of her. She had to change this future.

~.~

“Again.”

Amalia gritted her teeth, pushing the pulsating energy from her clenched fists. The sonic boom bounces off the mirror and she ducked, narrowly missing the fatal blow.

“Again, nena.”

She cries out, blasting the mirror. Shards of glass shattered and she covers her head, letting her breach swallow her feet as she crouches to avoid the impact. She hears Reverb swear as the woosh goes past her ears but she doesn't have the time to turn her head and make sure she hasn't struck him.

She falls through blank space flailing, and screams. Her heart leapt to her throat as her hair whipped against her face. She tries to focus, thinking of a place to land, realizing she never sent a signalled destination. Was she going to fall through dimensions forever?

Home. Bring me home. Bring me home!

She lands hard on her ass and drops to the ground, panting. She covers her heart, her eyes still squeezed shut as she regains her composure.

“Dad?” she croaked.

She took a deep breath, then frowned.

It smelled. It smelled funny. Her nose tickled, and Amalia slowly opened an eye up at the sky.

She saw trees.

Trees with colour.

Her hands brush against the prickly mass underneath, twigs and sticks and leaves? She’s in a bush. Amalia sits upright with alarm.

She’s in a bush. There are tall trees all around blocking the sky with obstacles, the sun is bright. She can’t see skyscrapers. She can’t see the broken city. She smells nature.

She’s in a fucking bush.

They lost vegetation in Crisis. Central City didn’t have bush. It has roots and tall dying forests with barren oaks and birch. Empty, dark melancholy places to hide mansions and practise crime.

The last time she saw a full tree was in an old picture book.

A car honks and she jumps out of her skin. She plasters herself against the rough bark of this tree in the vividly green park.

She doesn’t understand. She said she wanted to go home. She’s never failed at breaching before. How could she? She’s been training since she was six. This was downright mortifying. How could she have end up so far away? She needs to go back. Now. Like. Five minutes ago. Her dad is going to skin her alive.

The street is not busy, but not quiet either. Amalia calculates the likelihood of being caught breaching in the open. Such open. She has nowhere to go. Where were the crooks and crannies built into infrastructures designed by every American urban planning map? The ones crucial to protect from lethal meta attacks?

Is she no longer in the right country?

It won’t matter. She’s not staying here in this creepy place. Her ears picked up a sound, and she looked up at the branches to see birds flitting around a nest. Amalia gapes, watching robins feed their young, chirping and singing. Healthy.

“—Amalia!”

She startled, turning her head to her father’s voice. Relieved. Her dad came. He came to rescue her from this place. He’d learned his lesson, finally. She began to smile. “I’m—“

—Here!!” A girl calls, stumbling out of the large house across the street. She pants, her hands on her knees.

“I’m here! I overslept! I made you something, Daddy. Before I go. You know how you said Ellie kept getting into your prototype cabinets? Well, I present to you…” She straightened up, rummaging through her blue backpack and pulls out a contraption. “A solar powered lock with a frequency distributor! It’s Ellie proof! Well—Breacher proof. I tried it myself. Can’t get in. Cool, huh?” She bounced on her heels.

The man with her father’s voice turns around, his face, delighted.

“What!? Mini me, that’s genius. ” He high fives her, and she throws her arms around him. He reciprocates.

Amalia stares, horrified. She stumbles back.

It was dad. That was dad. But he wasn’t calling her.

“Amalia!” A woman calls, coming out of the house. “You forgot your lunch!” She stood tall and slender, with beautiful brown hair and kind eyes. Eyes with spark. With light, unsuppressed. She wore a white blouse and a blue ruffled skirt, and waved a biodegradable bag. She looked nice without straining effort. Gentle, even. Caring.

Amalia tilted her head, tingling with anxious unease as realization hit her like a truck.

That was mom.

A blue breach swirled open and the woman tossed the bag into it. Her lunch dropped into Dad’s outstretched hands. Dad passed it to the impostor, and kissed her cheek. “You’re going to kill it at camp, Ace.”

Ace smirked up at him with Amalia’s wicked grin, the one that made Reverb chuckle and call her devious. “I know.” Her smile fell, and she shifted, looking sad. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, sweetheart,” dad promised. He wasn’t lying. “I love you. Now remember, no breaching in plain sight, but if you’re feeling homesick, you just give me a call and I’ll be right over.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Amalia’s fingers dug into the bark, scraping blood. Dad packed a suitcase into the vehicle.

The beautiful woman called into her house. “Kids! Say goodbye to your sister! Her bus is here!”

Two boys walked out. One tall with long hair like dad’s with a shock of blond at the tips. He held a skateboard painted with icicles. The other, smaller, quiet, holding a really little girl in pigtails.

She has a baby sister?

The kids huddled together, sharing a group hug which mom joined. Dad looked at them all squished together, and laughed. A real one. Not maniacal or dangerous.

It sounded free.

She gasps out loud.

Ace turns her head. Their eyes meet.

Amalia yelps, throwing her shaking hand behind her as her legs give out. She chaffs against grass, tears burning her eyes. She falls into a pit, and cries out in alarm as her breach sucks her back into the ether. She didn’t mean to open a breach! She didn’t want to leave— damn it.

She wanted to go home. The real home. With Ace. Who looks happy, and loved. Who wore short sleeves and had no scars. Who looked pretty with bouncy curly hair that actually suited her fucking face. If Amalia touched Ace’s skin, would it be cold to touch? Would it numb her fingertips, did she need to thaw like Amalia did?

Of course not. Of course not. Of fucking course not! Not this Ace. Not this Amalia. Not this stranger who went to camp because that existed here in this utopia . This imaginary real life place where life didn’t suck! It didn’t suck at all! It was a life, a meaningful one. The one she should be in. The one with a family and a home and birds and green trees. Those three kids all younger than her. Siblings. Brothers and a sister. Amalia wasn’t even allowed to have one to share the lonely mansion with. Ace gets three?? Where was she? Where could this possibly be? How could she go back and hoard it all for herself?

Where her mom isn’t white and frosty, her hair is brown (normal!!!!!!!!!!!!) and her smile is warm. And this version of her father, of Reverb, with the biggest grin on his face. Who fawns over scraps of melded metal instead of pawning, killing for it.

Whose laugh is like music.

Amalia falls and Reverb catches her ankle from the edge of the roof. He snarls, murderous. She twists, jutting her hands out for the ground, away from the drop, refusing to look down. She could’ve fallen to her death.

She lands roughly, it would’ve scraped her skin if she weren’t wearing gauntlets.

“Get up,” Reverb says. His eyebrow trickled down blood, a new gash peeping out from where his goggles would’ve ended their protection on his face.

Amalia caught her breath, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. “Did I hurt you?”

She reached for him with trembling fingers as he bent down, but he evaded.

“It doesn’t matter. Get up.”

Her guilt washed away, contempt taking its place. How pathetic could she be? Begging for scraps of affection. She was never going to get it from him. Now that she knows what he’s capable of.

Reverb cocked his head to the side when she didn’t obey immediately. “Where did you run off to?”

She wanted to scream at him that he was failing at the world’s simplest job. That caring about her should’ve been easy. Should’ve come natural. That he was doing everything wrong.

But he’d ask her why and she’d tell him about the utopia. He’d think her powers were unchecked. That she’d need further training. He’d push her limits. He’d make her go back and—And ruin it. The utopia. He’d make her snap her fingers to crumble the earth, to shatter their beautiful homes and captivating brothers and adorable baby sister. He’d destroy them all.

That’s what Reverb always does.

Amalia couldn’t let him do that. Not to Ace.

“Nowhere,” she bit out. “Blank space. I liked it.”

“It nearly got you killed. You’re crying.”

“I thought you said risk was part of a breacher’s life.”

Reverb drew back on his heels. Wiping at his blooded brow. He studied her with an eerie intensity.

Tell me you love me. Just tell me you’re proud. Give me one reason to stay. Smile at me the way you did at Ace.

Reverb’s eyes widen at her pleading, needy expression and scowled. “You’re right. I did. Get up.”

~.~

Amalia hovered against the door as she watched Killer Frost pour antiseptic into gauze, cleaning her father’s cut.

She wondered if the mom from Utopia was a real doctor. With real patients. A real clinic, not a room with equipment stolen from hospitals.

Reverb hissed as Killer Frost pressed against the wound. “Stay still,” she cautioned, her voice hard.

It was hard. It was absolutely hard. There’s nothing soft and kind about that sharp tone. Amalia was horribly mistaken to have ever thought otherwise.

She knew better now.

Amalia waited until her dad was fixed up and gone before hedging her way in.

Killer Frost was screwing close caps, reorganizing. Amalia’s gaze fell to the Kill dampener necklace against her mother’s throat.

“Mama?”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever thought what life would be like without your ice?”

It was a weird question. Killer Frost’s hands paused over her supplies. Her mother was born a Snow. Both of her parents carried the metagene for ice. It was all her mother knew.

But her answer surprised Amalia.

“I have.”

“And?”

I lived it, briefly. It was some time ago now.”

Amalia stepped forward and sat on the medical cot. “What was it like?”

“Thrilling. Every thought came with deliberation. I felt with my heart.”

Sounded like utopia. Amalia swallowed down her trepidation. “And what did you do?”

Killer Frost gave her an honest look. “I had you.”

Amalia let her words sink in to digest. She closed her eyes slow and careful. Her mother was a different type of villainy than her father. One who was born into isolation and cold. Killer Frost was not compatible with what mothers were supposed to be made of. Compassion, gentleness, patience. And yet, Amalia could not help but discover little pockets of those qualities sprinkled into her mother’s personality anyways.

If Killer Frost was given a different life, if she wasn’t born Frost, if she didn’t crave apathy, what would she be? She was detached, indifferent to life and death, with only enough room to care for two people. Her daughter and her husband. But what if circumstances changed to allow growth for more?

Her father was the opposite. It was not that he was indifferent, but too involved. He was powered by his emotions, always passively angry, and it made him unpredictable and dangerous. Reverb was notoriously clever in his calculations, deliberate and senile with a burning hatred for this world, and a passion to destroy everything but his own kind. He sought out the bad and shaped his own image to reflect their broken world to build his own kingdom and increase his gain with little regard to consequence.

Everything fit into his puzzle, but Amalia, even after all these years had yet to understand what would be his final completed picture.

Amalia didn’t know what kind of evil she was. Catastrophic like XS? Spiteful like Weather Witch? Heinous like The Flash? Malice like her father?

She was young and bitter who wanted too much. Who expected too much in the meaningless crap of a life she was given. She was never going to be anyone. She was never going to be anything.

Every morning she was trained to perfect her skills, to become the perfect protege of Reverb, but she didn’t even have a name of her own. She had no reputation, left no mark on this city. Maybe she was like her dad, maybe he’s right to think she’s his to create. Her temper was driven by her own problems, which she’s always thought were worth being mad about, but what were they really? She had two parents and a house and a handful of friends.

But something niggled at the back of her mind, whispering that she didn’t belong here, that she deserved more. That she saw what she could have and she should grab and take it.

Her evil must be greed.

“If I could be happy. If I could be like that. Would you want that for me?” Amalia asked her mom, thinking about Ace in those stupid flip flops and flying curls.

Killer Frost thumbed her daughter’s cheek, her long nail scraping frost against her skin. “I want nothing more.”

Something stirred in her chest. Amalia never considered that maybe she didn’t have to be like them. And what if, then?

“What if I—“

Mom’s face clouded over, the tenderness, gone.

“No.”

“—But if I could.”

“No.”

Amalia clenched her teeth in frustration. Her mom didn’t even know what she was going to ask!

“Mama—“ she pleaded. “Just listen.”

““Don’t run away again, Amalia. This world is dangerous. You know how so.”

That wasn’t fair. She had run off thousands of times, yes of course she had, but they wanted her stuck in this house like a puppy on a leash. Sure, she was brash and idiotic half of those times, and yes, Amalia had once made a terrible mistake of leaving.

But this was to someplace good. Where people didn’t hunt others down, where watching your back was more of a precaution than what was necessary to survive.

Yes. This world is dangerous. Dark and hopeless.

But there are others. And if there’s anything she had learned from Reverb, it’s this: Impulse is dangerous and wild but necessary. If her gut says she wants, then she wants. There’s no use denying that.

In this family, we take what we want, nena. But only if I say so.

Amalia will find her way back to Ace and steal her life. Amalia glanced at Killer Frost, who had resumed cleaning her supplies.

She’ll just never tell them.

#killervibeweek19 #killervibe #reverb #killer frost #angst #amalia ramon #tkv fic #earth 8

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mischiefandspirits · 4 years

Text

Iron Legion (17/?)

Never let it be said that Tony Stark ever does things by half. He might have grown up with little family, but he wasn’t about to keep it that way.

Tony Stark was seventeen when his first child was born, and that was just the beginning.

For Masterpost, Timeline, AO3, and Fanfiction

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steel Scion, Part 2

“We’re starting the descent,” Clint announced from the cockpit just as the armor F.R.I.D.A.Y. was piloting stepped up next to Steve.

“Capsicle, you’re receiving a call,” she announced and Steve rolled his eyes at what Stark had programmed his computer to call him.

“I thought we’d gone dark?”

“This call overrides that command,” she answered before a familiar voice came from the suit.

“Hey, Cap.”

Steve perked up. “Stark, I thought you were still being kept out of this.”

“I am, but Pep made the mistake of leaving the room just before a news report interrupted my show. So now I’m hiding out in the lab.”

“Are you coming to help?”

“I’d love to, but someone stole my suit.”

“I have no regrets,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied cheerfully.

“Also, I’m pretty sure there would be a line of people waiting to kill me if I tried skipping bail, so I’m focusing on helping take care of Johannesburg. Thankfully Mer had been tracking the twins, so his suit got a perfect shot of the witch hitting Bruce.”

“You should be focusing on finding Ultron. We can worry about that later.”

Steve heard someone say something on the other end, but it was distorted so he couldn’t catch the voice or their words.

Tony hushed them then said, “I’m working on that too, but without Frankenstine’s motive, I don’t have anywhere to start.”

“He wants to kill us.”

“He left you there and made off with the vibranium. Sounds like it goes further than that.”

Steve frowned, but he didn’t have a chance to think about it because Clint came out of the cockpit at that moment.

“We’re here.”

“You’re where?” Tony asked.

“Safehouse, hopefully.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Yeah, we would have called ahead, but we were busy having no idea that you existed.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

“Touché.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dr. Banner?”

Bruce pulled the door he had been shutting back open as the Iron Man suit walked up. “Yes, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Can I come in?”

“Uh, sure? I was just about to take a shower, though,” he said, stepping aside so she could come in.

“It should only take a moment. Boss will be back soon.”

“What’s Tony got to do with it?” he asked, shutting the door.

“Dr. Banner?” a different voice and Bruce’s eyes widened.

“Peter, what are you doing in Tony’s lab?”

“I saw what happened on TV and wanted to make sure you and Hulk were okay, so I snuck in while Mr. Stark went to grab snacks and bribed Fri into letting me call you.”

“Peter, you can’t just sneak into labs.”

“But -”

“Do your parents know where you are?”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry, Dr. Banner. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“That’s really nice of you, but labs can be really dangerous, remember.”

“I didn’t touch anything, promise!”

“I can confirm that he hasn’t touched anything in the lab,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. reassured.

“That’s good, but you still shouldn’t be in there on your own.”

“Sorry. Are you okay, though? The news said Hulk trashed a city block because that HYDRA enhanced brainwashed you!”

“I… I’m alright.”

“Are you sure? You sound like Dad does when he’s not alright.”

“Yeah, just… The world just saw the Hulk -- the real Hulk -- for the first time.” Bruce shook his head. “Nevermind, I shouldn’t be putting this on -”

“That wasn’t the Hulk.”

“Peter -”

“No. The Hulk is a hero! He likes to smash things, but he never hurts people on purpose unless they’re hurting people first. He wrestles with She-Hulk and looks after the Avengers and teases Thor and… and he saved Iron Man’s life! He’s a hero! He’s my hero! What happened wasn’t his fault. It was that witch. People will understand. Mr. Stark is already working to fix things. It’s going to be okay.”

Bruce was speechless. He knew Peter looked up to him, but he didn’t realize how much the kid cared for the Hulk too. Usually, it was either one or the other. The only other exceptions were Jen and -

“Pete? What are you doing in here?”

Think of the devil…

“D-I was just…” Peter started frantically and Bruce could hear Tony coming further into the lab. He opened his mouth to explain and hopefully keep the kid out of too much trouble.

“I told you Drew and Ross were going to be calling soon so you need to go hang out with Pep. You can come play with Dad after dinner.”

Bruce heard Peter suck in a breath and he understood the sentiment. “Tony.”

There was a moment of silence before Peter said, “I just wanted to call Dr. Banner and make sure he was okay.”

“Any chance you didn’t hear that, Brucie-Bear?”

He considered playing dumb, but he knew they were both aware he’d found out. “You really shouldn’t have judged Clint for having a secret family.”

“Hawkeye has a secret family too?” Peter asked.

“Pep, now. We’ll talk about this later.”

“Okay, Dad. Bye, Dr. Banner.”

“Bye, Peter.” He waited until Peter’s footsteps faded away before continuing, “Tony, I’m sorry. I swear I won’t say anything.”

“I know you won’t, it’s okay. I’ve been thinking about letting you in on the secret for months. I just -- I’ve been keeping the kids a secret for so long. For Peter’s entire life, practically. If anything were to happen to them… Well, old habits die hard.”

“I understand,” Bruce said. “Peter’s a good kid and Nebula’s great. You did a good job with them.”

“Yeah? Wait until you meet Harley. You won’t be as confident in my parenting skills then.”

Bruce blinked. “How many kids do you have?”

“Just the flesh and blood ones or all together?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony was watching F.R.I.D.A.Y. play with Barton’s daughter on one screen and listening to Ross talk about launch codes on another when P.L.A.T.O. announced that someone was attempting to force the elevator to go to the lab.

“Someone we know?” he asked, glancing at the screen showing Peter doing homework in his room.

“Facial recognition suggests the late Director Fury.”

Tony snorted and checked the status of the fabricators. “Send the good director to the lobby then let him know he has one minute to leave my building before I sick security on him. Remind him that even if S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t officially a thing anymore, they’re still banned from Stark Industries property.”

“Right away, Re.”

“Stark, the codes?”

“Right, yeah, I’ll see if I can make a field trip. If not, I’ll send Nebula with instructions,” he said, bringing forward the screen displaying Nebula’s flight back from Johannesburg in the Iron-Rescue Mark III. He frowned when he spotted something in the corner of his eye. “Rewind that footage ten seconds,” he said, pointing at the video showing Frankenstine’s initial attack. His eyes widened as he watched. “Ross, do we have someone in South Korea? If so, let them know I’m sending Rogers, Barton, and Romanoff into Seoul. If not, get someone.”

“Seoul? Why? What’s going on?”

“I think Frankenstine might go after Dr. Cho.”

Ross gave him that look that meant he was barely resisting asking for more information because he knew it would be a waste of time. “Alright. Are you expecting a fight?”

“I’m hoping there won’t be one, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“No Banner?”

“I think he needs a break. F.R.I.D.A.Y. will bring him to the mansion.”

“I’ll get someone on it. Keep me updated and don’t forget the NEXUS.”

“Aye aye!” He hung up and sat back. “Mer, get Cho on the phone. P, tell Fri to get those slackers to work. Joe, tell Nebula to head to the NEXUS. I’ll fill her in once she’s there.”

All three complied and the phone began to ring.

And ring and ring and ring.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Father,” Nebula called, rushing into the lab. She looked around to make sure he was alone. “Where’s Dr. Banner?”

“Peter’s taking advantage of the fact he’s in the know now to show off his LEGO sets. Why? What’s up? Did you find the hacker?��

Nebula nodded and removed her mask. With a blink, her projector came on to display a glittering orange orb.

“Hello, Sir.”

“Jay,” Father whispered, standing up. “How?”

“When Frankenstine attacked him, he scattered himself and dumped his memory. He’s been hiding out ever since, working purely on protocol. I managed to bring him back together.”

Father shook his head, beaming. “You’ve been beating up that bully from the inside, huh? That’s my boy!”

“It’s good to feel appreciated.”

“You’re always appreciated, Buddy.” Father focused back on Nebula. “Upload him back onto the intranet. I’m sure the others want to greet him in their own ways.”

“Already started,” she confirmed, letting the projection disappear. Slipping the mask back on, she came to his side and set her hand on his shoulder.

He grabbed the hand and squeezed it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can work on tissue degeneration if you can fry whatever operational system Cho implanted.”

“Yeah, about that…”

Bruce looked up at him and Nebula crossed her arms.

“No,” they both said.

“You have to trust me.”

“Kind of don’t,” Bruce countered.

He turned to Nebula. “He was beating him, he could do it again.”

“You’re still not thinking clearly,” Nebula argued. “There should be a big maybe in there.”

“He’s proven he can win. Frankenstein was afraid of him, scared of what he can do.”

“Who are you talking about?” Bruce asked.

“J.A.R.V.I.S.”

“You called, Sir?”

Bruce gasped.

“Nebula found him blocking Frankestine’s access to the nuclear launch codes. Didn’t even realize who he was and was still winning.”

Bruce scoffed as he realized what Tony was planning. “So you want to put J.A.R.V.I.S. into this thing?”

“I think it’s worth a go,” J.A.R.V.I.S. added.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but they might have a point,” Nebula said and the two scientists turned to her. “J.A.R.V.I.S.’s code was crushing Frankenstein’s. I think there’s a good chance he’ll be able to override the monster’s operational matrix, or at the very least assimilate it.”

Bruce looked between the two Stark’s and sighed. He was caught in a time loop, and yet here he was going along with it.

At his agreement, Nebula nodded. “You two prepare it, I’ll create a backup of J.A.R.V.I.S.’s code, just in case. Don’t know why we’ve never done this before.”

“Dum-E hates backups,” Tony said with a shrug. “Never tried any of the others after the fight he put up.”

“Backups, for everyone,” Nebula muttered. “Never again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nebula was waiting outside the lab when Steve arrived with the Maximoffs. She immediately leveled her gun at them. “Thanks for bringing them in, Rogers, but the cells are the other way.”

“I need to talk to Stark.”

“Which one?”

The group turned to see three legionnaires step into the hall, though they looked different from the others. The first was pure black except for the white faceplate. It was bulkier, closer to the war machine armor, and it’s reactor glowed silver. The second looked similar to Pepper’s armor, though dark grey and green with an emerald reactor. The last was mostly silver with dark purple curling designs covering it like vines and a pale purple reactor. It was smaller and sleeker than any other armor or legionnaire Steve had seen.

“Stark built more legionnaires?” Steve asked, disappointed. Hadn’t he realized the problem the first ones had caused?

“We prefer Guardsmen,” H.O.M.E.R. said, revealing himself as the black one.

“More Ultron’s?” Wanda asked Steve, raising her hands.

“We are Ultron.” P.L.A.T.O.’s cold voice came from the green one. “Or were. Your monster stole our name.”

“We don’t want it back,” J.O.C.A.S.T.A. added from the purple one.

Steve turned to Nebula. “Shut them down.”

“Not happening.”

“Re doesn’t want to be bothered, especially by the likes of her,” H.O.M.E.R. said, pointing at Wanda.

“You don’t know what he’s doing, Nebula,” Steve argued, ignoring the robot.

“I know exactly what he’s doing. In fact, I’m watching him right now.” She tapped her temple and the golden mask she had been wearing in Johannesburg appeared for just a second in a flicker.

“She’s another one of Stark’s robots?” Pietro asked.

“Oh, I’m flesh and blood. I’ve just got a few fancy prosthetics. Now stand down so we can arrest you.”

“Or don’t,” J.O.C.A.S.T.A. chirped. “We’ve been wanting to smash in your sister’s face.”

Steve held up his hands before either the twins or the robots could attack. “Nebula -”

The woman suddenly swung around and the doors opened just in time for Steve to see Thor force open the doors on the other side of the lab.

“Wait!” Banner yelled as the god jumped atop the cradle and summoned lightning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Iron Man’s the one he’s waiting for.”

“That’s true. He hates you the most.”

“Still not daddy issues,” J.O.C.A.S.T.A. hummed, sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of H.O.M.E.R. and P.L.A.T.O. They were off to the side, watching the humans ready for battle. “Lack-of-daddy issues, maybe? Oh, Vizzy, speaking of which!” She grabbed Vision’s arm as he passed, making him stop. “Where do you fit in the family? Frankenstein built you, but Re built Jar-Jar and put him in you before Re, Mini-Hulk, and He-Man finished you, but you said you’re not Jar-Jar, so…?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, frowning. “I don’t believe it works that way.”

“It does in our family,” H.O.M.E.R. disagreed.

“We’re illogical like that,” P.L.A.T.O. added.

“Perhaps he is our nephew?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. suggested. “Because he came from J.A.R.V.I.S.”

“You are suggesting that J.A.R.V.I.S. would be my father?” Vision asked.

“Jar-Jar, it’s a boy!” J.O.C.A.S.T.A. cheered.

“I don’t have much knowledge in the way of parenting, but I will do my best by you, Vision,” J.A.R.V.I.S. responded blankly.

“Thank… you?” Vision turned to Father, Steve, and Bruce for help, two of whom appearing just as confused.

Father placed his hand on his chest and pretended to wipe away a tear. “I can’t believe my little boy would make me a grandfather at thirty-nine.”

Near the door, Nebula sighed. “You’re right, none of us have any idea how an actual family works.”

“At least you can admit it,” Uncle Rhodey chuckled over the phone. “Pretty sure your father and the rest of your siblings all think this is normal.”

“I refuse to be called grandma,” Pepper deadpanned. “Tony can make all the jokes he wants, but I want to be at least in my mid-forties before anyone calls me grandma or nana or anything to that extent.”

“At least you haven’t gotten any greys from Tony and his brood like Happy and I,” Uncle Rhodey teased.

“The benefits of Extremis, I’m sure. I can’t believe Tony’s going out right now.”

“Dr. Dillon cleared him, unfortunately,” Nebula said. “At least he’s bringing the triplets with him.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can too,” Uncle Rhodey promised.

“I’m half-tempted to join you,” Pepper joked bitterly. “Please bring him home safe.”

“I will,” Uncle Rhodey said softly.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s agreed to notify you the moment anything changes so I can focus on evac and the relief foundation,” Nebula said.

“No plans to burst in guns blazing this time?” Uncle Rhodey chuckled.

“Rogers has forbidden revenge and I’ve decided to listen, for now at least. The witch and her brother will pay once this is all over.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ms. Romanoff.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow as a gray and green legionnaire appeared out of thin air in front of her. “Stark gave you an upgrade?”

“Better, he gave us bodies.” P.L.A.T.O. blasted the lock on her cell and opened the door. “Need a lift?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bruce, we’ve got a Code Green. We’ve had a Code Green. It’s now or never.”

Shaking, he watched the feeds on the Quinjet’s screens.

He couldn’t go out there. Not while civilians were present. He couldn’t risk hurting anyone else. But they needed him. They needed…

He’s a hero! He’s my hero!

“I’m on my way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Go away out of that!”

“I wish I could say I was joking,” Tony said.

“She’s HYDRA! She was working with Ultron!”

“He wasn’t Ultron,” Tony muttered.

“Then come up with something better than Frankenstein!” Drew spat before continuing her tirade. “That woman is a criminal! Why is she being made an Avenger?”

Ross sighed and said, “Rogers is arguing that she showed remorse during the fight with…”

“V.I.R.G.I.L?” Tony offered. “Virtual Integrated Rapidly-evolving Grid-based Intelligent Lifeform.”

“I’m both impressed and terrified that you just pulled that out of your arse right now,” Drew snorted.

“As I was saying,” Ross continued. “He’s arguing that since she fought against V.I.R.G.I.L, she should be given a chance to make it up to the world by fighting alongside the Avengers.”

“Oh yes, she realized her plan to destroy the world was also going to kill her and helped to stop it. Better give her a medal,” Drew said with an eye-roll.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messengers. I’m right there with you,” Tony said, holding up his hands. “I only found out after the fact.”

“Rogers went straight to the top to get her pardon. There’s not much anyone can do. As long as she continues to work with the Avengers, she’s got her pass.” Ross shook his head.

“Maybe in the US, but if she leaves the country she’s going to get some backlash.”

“Try explaining that to Rogers, would you? He doesn’t seem to get it when I say it and I know he has a thing for Brits.”

Drew gave him an unimpressed look.

“I’m sorry, Jess, but can you try to pull some strings? Rogers isn’t backing down on this.”

She sighed and slouched back, her eyes disappearing behind tinted yellow sunglasses. “I’ll see what I can do, but no promises. She’s definitely going to have to be accompanied at all times at the very least.” She gave Tony a look. “It’d be easier if you were sticking around.”

“No can do. I’m taking a break. Barton’s inspired me. I’m going to spend more time with my family.”

“Oh yes, your horde of robots,” Drew snorted and Ross gave him a look.

“Exactly. We’ve got a new one too. My grandson. I’ll send you both the baby pictures!”

“We already received the ones Ms. Parker sent, thank you,” Ross said while Drew muttered, “Gobdaw.”

“Isn’t he adorable? I’m so proud,” Tony said, ignoring her. “He’s going to be working with the Avengers. As will Rhodey, so you’ll still have men on the team.”

“No Guardsmen?” Drew asked, not sounding surprised.

“They’re still learning. I’ve got them working with the Stark Relief Foundation right now and continuing their studies. Even if I did feel they were ready, I don’t think the world is,” Tony said and he could see the agreement on both of their faces.

“What about the other newcomer, Senior Airman Wilson?” Ross asked.

“No idea where he stands. Rogers is bringing him in. I do know he was part of the D.C. incident though.”

“So he’s not the full shilling, got it,” Drew commented. “Any hope Banner will be sticking around to help keep them in line?”

“No. I doubt I’ll be able to even keep him here at the tower. Johannesburg really shook him up, and having the witch around isn’t helping. He needs some time to himself. I don’t like it, but I get it.”

“Just another reason to lock the wagon up,” Drew said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You sure about this?” Tony asked as Hulk loaded the last of his bags into the Quinjet.

“Can’t stay,” he growled.

“We’ll miss you,” Peter said and Hulk turned to him, using a finger to ruffle his hair.

“Miss tiny Stark too.”

“When was last time cousin talk to Banner?” She-Hulk asked, crossing her arms. “Iron Stark said Hulk been around almost since Sokovia.”

“Doesn’t matter. Not safe. He stay quiet.”

“Well, send him our regards as soon as you get somewhere safe enough for him to come out,” Tony said. “And remind him that you both are welcome back any time.”

Hulk grunted and moved to give She-Hulk a hug. “Bye cousin.”

“Bye cousin. Take care of Banner. Mouse will miss him. Come back soon. She-Hulk will miss cousin.”

“Hulk will miss cousin too.”

“What? Won’t miss me?” Tony asked.

Hulk stared at him for a moment before turning and climbing into the Quinjet with a poorly hidden smirk.

She-Hulk and Peter laughed as he gasped in fake outrage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In regards to Drew's nationality, she's British, but she grew up in Ireland so she's got a bit of an Irish accent that she only uses in relaxed settings, which working with Tony has become. Basically, Agent Drew is Irish, but Arachne is English. This is a reference to the fact that I started hc-ing her as being played by Katie McGrath while working on Rescue to the Rescue.

Before anyone says anything about Tony's joke about Steve's love of Brits: Tony and I are both aware that Ireland is not in Britain.

#a:aou #tony stark #bruce banner #nebula #peter parker #iron family

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zirawrites · 6 years

Note

How do interested companions react to finding out sole has attempted suicide?

This reaction has been sitting in my inbox for awhile and I’ve just now worked up the nerve to tackle it. Self-harm/suicide is literally my ONLY personal trigger, and I’ve always deleted these messages on-sight when roleplaying. However, I think doing a suicidal Sole isn’t far from canon. It’s a side of Sole the game didn’t really explore, so I’m glad I can add that new dimension to our hero.

Obviously the trigger-warning is self-harm and mentions of suicide. I was going to do a generic suicide scenario to start out with, but decided to tailor it more personally to each companion. If you’re having suicidal thoughts, please reach out to a loved one or professional.

Cait: Cait wasn’t a stranger to self-harm. It seemed easier to punish herself over how little her parents (or anyone, for that matter) loved her. But her stoic Sole? Cait’s first reaction was disbelief when she noticed the scars on Sole’s wrists. They were faded and pink, but still noticeable when Sole’s sleeves rode up their arms. The two friends made eye contact from across the table, and Sole immediately tried to make up an excuse for why their wrists were scabbed over.

“Yer not that good of a storyteller,” Cait said. Her voice was soft, but concerned. Sole had never seen her eyes so dark. “Look, I know you’ve been given the short end of tha’ stick lately. What, with yer son turn’n up the leader of the boogeymen and losen’ your husband/wife. But… I remember when I used to do the same thin’.” Cait turned up her wrists to show even lighter scars. “I stopped shortly after ya rescued me. I guess you showed somethn’ in me I didn’t know was there. I was someone worth savn’ once I got those chems outta me.” She took Sole’s hand, and tried not to let her watery eyes spill over. “Sole, I’m clean now. And lookn’ at you… yer someone worth savn’, too. So please, jus’ talk to me if it gets that bad again.” Sole promised, cross their heart.

Codsworth: Codsworth had no idea Sole self-harmed until they let it slip in conversation. According to his master, they hurt themselves when they felt the burden of losing Shaun weigh too heavy. Codsworth was crushed. He would have tended to Sole night and day if they had just told them how bad their mental health was getting. “It’s because you found me such a mess when we reunited in Sanctuary,” Codsworth groaned. “I would have never went blabbering on about my own shortcomings if I had known what a heightened state you were in. Please, mum/sir… forgive me. You needed me and I… I FAILED you!” If Codsworth could cry, he would be inconsolable.

Sole assured her Mr. Handy that their past actions had absolutely nothing to do with him. They were responsible for their self-harm and no one else. It took Sole nearly an hour to convince him they weren’t suicidal anymore, especially thanks to how close Codsworth held them in his heart. Even so, Codsworth guarded Sole at night just in case his master woke and needed him by their side. He’d always be there for them, even if it meant another 200 years of getting nuclear fallout out of vinyl wood.

Curie: Curie was reading a new textbook Sole had nabbed them on a recent mission. The book was on soldiers returning from war with PTSD. However, parts of the pages were ripped, and Curie was struggling to fill in the blanks. She asked Sole if they knew anything about the symptoms of PTSD, which Sole apparently knew plenty about. Since entering the Commonwealth, Sole had been so overcome with stress that they even once found themselves at the edge of an overpass. Sole didn’t jump, but in that moment they knew they had to seek mental health, and here they were now after those first grueling nights finding Shaun.

Before Curie knew it, she was crying. It was only a few shuddered hiccups, but Sole’s story touched her. “My dear friend,” Curie said. “I had no idea you were struggling with your mental health. And here I am priding in to your personal life. You do not have these thoughts now, do you?” Sole assured Curie that was in the past. “Either way, I insist you come to me if you ever need to talk. I am well-equipped with the medical training to discuss such matters objectively. And also… you mean a lot to me, madame/monsieur. I would never want harm to befall you.”

Danse: He didn’t want to believe the rumors, but the medical history of Sole Danse happened upon in the sick bay of the Prydwen didn’t lie. Sole awoke to heavy knocking at their door, and opened it to see Danse clearly distraught. His brows furrowed together, and his lips were more pouting than usual. Danse asked to come in, and then sat at the edge of Sole’s bed. He struggled to find the words at first, so Sole encouragingly placed their hand on his back.

“First off, please don’t think I was prying,” Danse said. “Knight-Captain Cade needed assistance organizing files in his office, and yours just happened to be at the top of the pile. It was open on your mental health examination, I swear.”

Sole dismissed Danse’s words with the wave on their hand. They knew exactly what was in that document. When Sole first entered the Brotherhood, they had to talk about a history of drug abuse. When Sole first found out Shaun led the Institute, they had tried to overdose. It wasn’t anything they were proud of, but Sole didn’t want to lie to their brothers.

“That’s understandable,” Danse reassured. “Admirable, even. I just never expected someone as levelheaded as you to do something as risky as that. But I suppose we all have our demons.” A sharp inhale. A shaky exhale. “This doesn’t change the way I feel about you, you know. You have my complete trust in battle, and loyalty as your friend. Not to sound cliche but… I’m here if you ever need to talk.”

Deacon: It wasn’t every night Deacon asked Sole to cut loose with him. He liked to keep all his faculties alert, but they had just picked up an important dead drop and even Desdemona said the two partners needed a break. Instead of going out in goofy disguises like Deacon always suggested they do one day, he used his personal stash of caps to buy him and Sole the best middle-tier wine he knew. Not too good, not too bad. He knew Sole would appreciate the symbolism in his sentiment.

Deacon leaned against the wall and listened to a drunk Sole ramble about their favorite missions. They could barely keep themselves up on the desk, so Deacon kept himself within arms’ reach in case he needed to catch them. “R-remember when we-we-we dressed like raiders to save that synth underground?” Sole slurred. Deacon answered with a soft mhmm. “And… and do you remember w-when I was a body-double for Magnolia to spy on that safe house leak? And you accidentally spilled wine on me so I had to SLAP you?” Another mhmm. “I SLAPPED you, Deacon! Hows that feel, buddy?”

“I lie awake every night thinking about it, boss,” Deacon chided. “Not a day goes by where I don’t remember shaming my family name.”

“I shamed my family name when I swallowed that bottle of pills.” Sole took another long drink of wine, then dramatically smacked their lips. “I don’t know how Codsworth didn’t find me the next morning. I’m g-glad though, ya know? I really got my shit together after that. Haven’t thought about checkn’ out since.”

Deacon was floored. He watched Sole stare down at their empty wine glass, then say something about shaking him down for more caps. He wasn’t really sure the specifics because his ears were ringing. Sole had always been his role model. They were perfect in every way. If someone as strong as them could get that desperate, who was he in this world? He tucked their hair behind their ears as then drunkenly smiled up at them. “I really need you, pal,” he said. “Honestly, I had no idea things had gotten that bad. Can you give me a heads up next time so I can cheer you up?” Deacon knew suicidal thoughts ran deeper than whatever half-assed jokes he could cure them with, but if he got any more personal he was afraid he’d cry. “We look out for each other. Hell, we’re family. So please… just…” Deacon ended his rambling with a lopsided smile.

Gage: “What fuckn’ cowards,” Gage seethed. He and Sole stood at an abandoned outpost. They were trying to track down rouge raiders that had defected from the Operators. However, the only people left in the ruins were a handful of people who had shot themselves. They either knew Sole and Gage were closing in, our they were done with the raider lifestyle. “Bunch of complete wastes of space,” Gage continued. “Anyone who ain’t man enough to deal with their fuckn’ problems doesn’t deserve the resources they suck dry while they’re here.”

Sole had no idea why Gage was so opposed to the idea of suicide. As he grit his teeth and began to loot the camp, Sole hung back. Sole knew Gage looked up to them as a leader. How would he feel if…?

“You okay, Overboss?” he asked. “If this sight is a little too gruesome for ya, there’s no need to hang around. I can come back with some other men and finish the clean-up.”

“I could have been one of these people, Gage.” Sole crossed their arms, determined not to break eye contact. Gage asked what Sole meant. “When I first realized my son was gone, my wife/husband was gone… I put a gun to my head. I didn’t know it was empty. But if it had been? I’d have been just like any of these raiders.” Sole sucked in a deep breath when they saw Gage tense up. “Be angry that these people broke their codes and left our ranks. But not that they couldn’t face their demons. They weren’t wastes of space.”

“Shit.” Gage took a step forward. Sole noticed he went to reach for their arm, but he stopped himself at the last second. For the first time ever, Gage actually seemed remorseful. “I had no idea, Sole. I’m sorry I said all that. If someone like you can struggle with those thoughts, then anyone can. We’ll… give ‘em a proper burial here. Promise.”

Hancock: “You know, sometimes I think you want to overdose.” Sole was talking to Hancock who currently lounged back on the couch. He was absolutely defenseless where he lay. It was adorable. Just to make sure the mayor was as incapacitated as he seemed, Sole grabbed his favorite hat and placed it on their own hat. It took Hancock over ten seconds to register what happened. “That’s sad,” Sole said. “I’m keeping this.”

Hancock reached his arm out with the most pathetic look he could muster. “I’m hurtn’ here, sweetheart,” he moaned. “It’s been a long day and I’m a tired ghoul. I deserve to get this high. But I can’t complete the ensemble without that hat.” Sole rolled their eyes and gave it back to him, then laughed as he put it on backwards. “There. Now I’m as handsome as ever.”

“Stop changing the subject,” Sole said. They were trying to look serious, but failing. How could you stay mad at Hancock? He got under your skin in all the right ways. “It’s dangerous to take that much at one time. I took just a little more than that when I found out Shaun was gone hoping I wouldn’t wake up. I can’t believe you do all this for fun.”

Even in his stupor, Hancock registered exactly what Sole was getting at. “You did what?” he gaped. Sole looked down at their feet. “You’re telln’ me you tried to kill yourself not that long ago? Holy shit.” Hancock sat up with some inner strength he didn’t know he had. Even though the world was spinning, he managed to take Sole’s hand in his own. “Please tell me you ain’t thinkn’ about doing something like that again. I couldn’t bear to lose you over the fact you think no one cares. Cause I really do, and there ain’t no dose of chems that’d ever be more important to me than you.”

MacCready: He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. MacCready had opened up to Sole about losing Lucy, and the suicidal thoughts thereafter when he figured life wasn’t worth living without her. Sole told him their similar feelings after losing their spouse, and he felt his stomach knot. MacCready thought he was just some trifling gun-for-hire who fell ass-backwards in to a marriage he didn’t deserve with a son he couldn’t provide for. But Sole was… the complete opposite. They were thrown in to this apocalypse, not born in to it like he was. They took everything in stride. Placed their friends’ safety above their own. Passed up well-deserved caps just so families had the extra money. So as Sole told MacCready they had once tried to take their own life, he found himself sitting on the edge of his seat. A gust of wind would have been able to topple the merc on the floor.

“Please don’t talk like that,” he said. MacCready’s voice cracked at the end, and he was worried if he spoke again tears would spill out. “Sole, you’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to the Commonwealth. The greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you as a friend. I’m so sorry your spouse passed away, but you’ve showed me there’s still a life beyond all that sorrow. So if you can stay strong… I guess… so can I.”

Preston: “Excuse me, General?” Preston had been waiting for Sole all day. His expression was tense, which let Sole know he had something weighing on his mind. “Can we talk somewhere privately? I’ve got something bothering me.” Preston led Sole to the picnic table behind Sanctuary. After stumbling around his words for a while, Preston finally looked up with worry in his eyes. “I know we talked recently about my past with the Minutemen. How I lost all hope and… tried to end my life. Lately I’ve been feeling really guilty laying all that information on you. I just want to make sure you’re okay with it and that I didn’t overstep my boundaries.”

Sole shook their head. “Preston, I know what that feels like. I’ve done the exact thing before. For different reasons. Reasons I don’t really want to get in to.” There was a pause that followed. Sole watched Preston’s eyes widen. They knew he was too polite to speak his mind. “I’ve never felt closer to you, Preston. So don’t think you made me uncomfortable. If we both take this a day at a time, maybe we can help each other get through these feelings, you know?”

“I… Sole, I had no idea.” Preston honestly didn’t know what to say. He looked up to Sole as a role model. Their past didn’t change his admiration towards them, he was just surprised. “We will get through this. I just know it. And when we finally make the Commonwealth safe, we’ll know it was worth sticking around for.”

Piper: Piper hated writing obituaries. Whenever someone in Diamond City passed away, she wrote about them in a small paragraph on the back of her latest issue. Since not many settlers died of old age anymore, the stories were about parents succumbing to radiation poisoning or little kids who got too close to feral ghouls. This particular story was about a mother who took her own life when her daughter drowned in the water filtration plant in the back of Diamond City. Piper’s newspaper was selling out, but she knew it was for a depressing reason.

Sole picked up a copy like they usually did, and thumbed through it dramatically to show Piper they really did read the whole thing. When Sole got to the obituary, they paused. “You forget how to read just now or something, Blue?” Piper asked. “I can smell the smoke from over here.”

“I’m sorry,” Sole said. “I just got to the obituary section. That’s so sad. I remember when I tried to kill myself after losing Shaun. I’d never wish that on anybody I knew.”

“Oh god,” Piper whispered. “Blue, I had no idea. I wouldn’t have given you a copy if I knew…” Sole set the paper back down, and met Piper’s hand. Piper squeezed Sole’s fingers reassuringly. “I think I’d just about lose it if I lost Nat. I couldn’t imagine what that feels like. But you’ve just gotta stick around. A lot of people depend on you. So if you get those feelings again, you talk to me, alright? I love you, woman/man out of time.”

Nick: As a detective, Nick Valentine had seen some unusual cases come through his door. Most of the ones in Diamond City involved the suspicion that someone was a synth, and watching a distraught racist try to tip-toe their way in to getting his Gen 3 self to help them was always amusing. However, he knew Sole’s case was special the moment he met them. Sole didn’t see him as a robot, they saw him as his own man. That is why Nick respected Sole so much, and why seeing the marks on their wrists hurt so badly.

“Do you mind explaining those?” Nick asked when he noticed Sole sheepishly trying to pull down their sleeves. “Unless you bought a feral cat recently, I have feeling you did that to yourself.” His expression softened. “Do you need to talk about something, kid?”

“I’m sorry that worried you, Nick,” Sole said. They were being honest. Seeing Nick’s yellow eyes widen like that… it broke Sole’s heart. “The last thing I want to do is hurt somebody, which is why I hurt myself. But that’s all in the past, I swear. These scars are old. And I have friends like you to thank for that positive change.” Nick believed Sole, but for good measure he checked up on them more than usual. They were his favorite troublemaker, after all. What kind of detective would he be if he didn’t watch out for his own partner?

Strong: Strong still didn’t understand what Sole was telling him. He understood the concept of Suiciders. They charged in to battle knowing they would die, but it was in the name of battle and bloodshed. When he learned Sole had tried to talk their own life just to die, it physically hurt his brain. “Human is good leader. Good leader want to live. Strong not understand why human do that.”

Sole took a deep breath, regretting telling Strong about their past at all. “Sometimes when humans don’t think they can do something, they don’t see a point in leading or trying anymore. It doesn’t make the human a bad person. It means they are tired and need some extra help.”

“Strong thinks he knows what human means.” Sole doubted that, but let him continue talking anyways. “Human had bad fight. Didn’t think human could fight again. Then human remembered they are leader, so they kept fighting anyways.”

“That’s…” Sole folded their arms. “That’s actually very right, Strong.”

Strong scoffed. “Of course Strong is right. Strong is smarter than human thinks Strong is.”

X6-88: Sole had a flag on their mental health evaluation? X6 thought it had to be a mistake. Father obviously wanted to make sure his mother/father had the capacity to lead the Institute, which meant doing a written report on Sole’s past. X6 overheard several scientists talking about Sole being mentally unfit in the hallway because of what came up in their papers. The first thing X6 did was defend Sole. He reminded the scientists that they were speaking about the future director, and that Sole had proven time and time again to be a worthy ally on their side. To drive home that point, he reminded them the hell Sole could raise if they were enemies.

X6 then headed straight to Sole’s private chambers to dispel the rumor. Sole was reading on their bed, which seemed like perfectly sane behavior from his obviously sane companion. “Ma’am/Sir, I regret to inform you that there is a rumor circulating the infirmary that your mental health evaluation did not come out clean. Apparently someone flagged it for review. I put those scientists in their place, and I doubt they’ll cause you any trouble if you run in to them again.”

“It isn’t a rumor,” Sole said. “Shaun asked me to be honest, so I was. I used to self-harm, X6. A lot. I didn’t want to live in this new world. But since I’ve seen the Institute and what it can do for humanity… I feel hope again. I don’t intend on having those thoughts any more. And Shaun set me up with a fantastic psychologist.”

Awkward. X6 stood in the door-frame knowing Sole wanted him to join them in the room. However, his legs felt like lead. “Well then I’m sorry I assumed. I am certain you will still make a superb director for the Institute. And I have no qualms remaining your companion out in the Commonwealth.” Three compliments in a row? That was high praise from the same courser who once threatened to bludgeon Paladin Danse to death for scuffing his shoes.

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youngandmadeoflightning-blog · 7 years

Text

I’m done falling for his Fool’s Gold: The Story Part 1

I got a message asking me to share about the abusive relationship that 1D’s music helped me get out of, so…here we go. Part 1 is the story of my relationship with the guy. Part 2 will be about 1D’s songs and their connection to it.

Emotional/verbal abuse trigger warning, plus it’s going to get really long, so the rest is under the cut.

Let’s call him Ty. Ty started dating my sister, Audrey, their freshman year of college. I was 14 and a sophomore in high school. I’d met him before because he went to our same high school, but only in passing because he was dating Audrey’s best friend during their senior year (yeah, I know, it’s already complicated). So I “officially” met Ty fall of 2006 when Audrey brought him over when they were home on break.

The first year of Ty and Audrey’s relationship, Ty and I hated each other. And when I say hated, I mean “couldn’t stand to be in the same room with each other without fighting” levels of hate. After that first year, though, we slowly started to come around to one another. I often talked to Ty when I was having issues with my longtime best friend, Logan (whom Ty also knew), because I wasn’t going to tell my family and had no other friends. Audrey would even take me with her sometimes when she and Ty would hang out at his house with Ty’s best friend, Ben. I thought everything was good. I thought Audrey and my mom would both be happy that Ty and I were no longer fighting every time we were within earshot of each other.

What I didn’t know was that about the same time Ty and I began to get along, his relationship with my sister started going downhill. I didn’t learn until years after the fact just how bad things got before they broke up at Christmas 2008.

For the next four months or so, Ty went a little…nuts. He started stalking my sister around their college campus, calling her and threatening to kill himself, things like that, nothing that ever put my sister in real danger, but enough to scare the hell out of her. It got to the point where Ty’s parents forced him to withdraw and transfer to another school. I didn’t know what he’d been doing; all I’d ever heard from Audrey or my mom was that he’d transferred and she was happy to have distance from him. In May one night, he called me, drunk off his ass, and I got scared because he sounded like he was going to kill himself. Audrey had already gotten home for the summer and I ran to her, and she got in touch with Ben, who thankfully was with Ty and promised he’d make sure nothing happened to him, but that he didn’t think Ty was suicidal, just really drunk.

The next week, Ty called me to apologize for scaring me. I was so happy to hear that he was okay. We kept in secret contact after that, as I knew that my mom and Audrey would freak out if they knew that I was talking to him. On my 17th birthday in June 2009, he brought over a box of my favorite chocolates and a card and stood in the driveway, and I told my mom I was taking the trash out in order to go see him. That’s the last time I ever saw him in person…yet I still ended up in an abusive relationship with him. Weird, huh?

We didn’t talk a whole lot the rest of that summer, but that fall, when Ty heard from Logan that I was in the hospital dealing with brain surgeries, he contacted me on Facebook to see how I was. That was the start of…everything. He quickly became the person I confided in about EVERYTHING. He told me all sorts of things about his relationship with Audrey that I had no clue about, so whenever I heard my mom and/or Audrey talking badly about him, I would immediately jump to his defense. That would start a huge family battle every time, without fail, but I couldn’t stop myself from standing up for him.

For the next year and a half, we were just Facebook friends. We spent hours and hours late at night talking about anything and everything. I truly cared him, and refused to listen to my mom who said I should hate him just because he was my sister’s ex, when I’d never had any real relationship with Audrey and I had one with him. Every so often throughout the years, one of them would find out I was still in contact with Ty and we’d fight, but I’d never stop talking to him. Then, things got complicated, to say the least.

March 2011. It was the weekend, super late at night. We were up talking about something random when all of a sudden, he said, “I have to tell you something.” I said “Okay, then, tell me.” We told each other everything. He then said, “I want to have sex with you. I’ve wanted to for years.” (Mind you that at the time, I’m 18, he’s nearly 23, and he’s known me since I was barely a teenager.) I just sort of laughed it off at first, I knew he’d been drinking, but he kept going. He started telling all the sexual things he’d wanted to do to me over the years. He even remembered this time when I was 15 and he’d come over to see Audrey but she wasn’t home; I was the only home and I’d just gotten out of the shower when he knocked on the door, so I answered the door in a towel. He told me he wanted to rip that towel off and “fuck me right there on the floor.” His girlfriend’s 15 year old sister. I was going along with it at first because I’d never had a guy say that he was attracted to me before, but then I got uncomfortable and went to bed. When I woke up the next day, I tried to text him to tell him we couldn’t do this like that - he was always going to be my sister’s ex-boyfriend, and I was always going to be his ex-girlfriend’s sister. He had blocked me. Everywhere. I tried for a week to get in touch with him until I gave up.

Six weeks later, I was surfing around Facebook and realized I could see his profile again, so I sent him a message that just said, “What the hell?” He said that he woke up the next day, knew he’d crossed the line, and he freaked out, that he was sorry he blocked me, and to please forgive him. Like a fool, I did. And that choice, that one choice started me on a three and a half year cycle of torment.

It went like this: We’d talk for a while, mostly as friends but with hints of flirtation -> one night he’d get drunk and get really sexual -> he’d wake up -> freak out -> disappear -> I’d be left confused and heartbroken -> a few weeks or months later, he’d show back up begging for forgiveness -> I’d give it to him. Wash, rinse, repeat.

You’d think I’d learn, right? The problem was that when things with us were good, they were so good. Ty was sweet, and there for me when no one else was. He seemed honest, and vulnerable, and like he cared more about me than Audrey ever had. But looking back, he was so broken, and a big part of me wanted to fix him. He would often tell me that he was afraid I was going to turn out to be like Audrey, and like all the other girls who’d hurt him, and I didn’t want to be just like the rest. I wanted to love him. I wanted to show him he could be loved.

The problem was, he never wanted to show me that I could be loved, too. When he freaked out, he got mean. He’d tell me that I was trash. That he was all I was ever going to get. That no one else would ever want me. That I better fuck him while I had the chance (which was ridiculous, since we hadn’t seen each other in person since 2009) because I was going to die a virgin otherwise so I should be grateful for his charity. And a lot of other things I don’t have the stomach to write out. Over and over again. So many times that I believed him. Maybe that’s why I always let him come back.

June 2014. We were on the phone, and he said something I never thought he’d say. He said he wanted to come down to my hometown (he was living a few hours away at the time) and tell my mom the truth; he wanted to tell her about us so that we could stop hiding because he just wanted to be with me. I thought that was everything I wanted…then, I freaked out. The next day, I realized that maybe I wasn’t ready to drop a nuclear bomb on my entire family. I told him I changed my mind. He screamed. And screamed. I thought he was just heartbroken, so I spent the next three months hating myself.

September. I had just moved to NYC the month before. I thought it was my fresh start. Then, he messaged me on Facebook. And like a fool, I answered. Things started smoothly at first, but then something set him off. I don’t even remember what, but I remember him saying that he “knew” I didn’t care about him because I didn’t contact him after his mom died. (My response was “How exactly was I supposed to know your mom died?”) He threw some more insults at me until I said I was done and blocked him online.

He started texting me every two weeks. On the dot. Like clockwork. In December, I sent him one long text message telling him to let me go, that I was blocking him because I couldn’t take the pain anymore. I told him he was emotionally abusive and begged him to let me move on with my life. I blocked him, and I felt peace about it/him for the first time in six years. I thought I was done. I was a fool.

Then April came. The silence of the night is dangerous for me, which really sucks considering I have insomnia. In the middle of the night one weekend, I called him in tears, and I left him a voicemail about missing him and hating him for the pain he caused and saying that I had so many questions. He texted me back and I spent four hours asking him every question I’d been holding on to. And he seemed to be answering me honestly for the first time in his life. I asked him if he ever really loved me, and he said, “I did. Still do.” And when I told him that I couldn’t keep him around anymore, all he said was, “Okay.” I didn’t get any of his typical begging me to stay with him. I thought it was okay. I was a fool.

A couple weeks later, I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize threatening to kill me if I didn’t back off their boyfriend. This person told me that I was “in for a nightmare if I thought I could get away with asking someone else’s boyfriend to move to New York for me.” It didn’t take long for me to deduce that this was Ty’s girlfriend, and he didn’t mention her. I told her I didn’t say any of that (which I didn’t) and that he didn’t even tell me he had a girlfriend (which he didn’t) so she needed to check her facts and back the fuck off. I didn’t hear anything else, so I was just like “HOLY SHIT I DODGED A BULLET.”

July 30th, I hadn’t spoken to Ty in 3 months. I got more texts from this same girlfriend with more threats. So apparently Ty was using me to make his girlfriend jealous, because why else would she text me saying I’d been after her boyfriend when I didn’t so much as talk to him?

August 11th, Ty returned. Woo! He texted me at 1 am apologizing for his girlfriend’s “misunderstanding.” She “saw my name in his phone” and “had built up resentment” and he was “very upset with her for attacking me.” I spent 2 hours talking to him and then went to sleep. I woke up at 7 am and literally the first six words that popped in my head when my eyes opened were “What the hell have I done?” I immediately texted my best friend, Keegan, to call me as soon as he woke up, that I had talked to Ty and “please don’t be mad at me.” He called me back at around 9:30, and we spent a solid two hours dissecting every detail of not just the night before, but also the whole relationship. Keegan, God bless him, broke it down into three options for me, because Lord knows my brain needed simplicity in that moment.

1) I take him back and try to reconcile things again - Keegan said, “I do not see any path that choice takes that ends in you being happy.” 2) I block him immediately without saying a word - Keegan said, “But I know you, and I know that having things left unsaid drives you insane.” (He’s right.) 3) I send him one final goodbye text and then block him - Keegan said, “And once you do this, you can’t look back, because if you let him back in again, even for just one conversation, I don’t think you’ll ever stop.” (That sentence always stuck with me. It was in my head every time I was tempted to check on him.)

I chose #3 (as Keegan figured I would). I did it. I actually blocked him for real. I’d blocked him online many times, but I’d always had a hard time blocking him on my phone. Keegan knocked me back into reality when he said, “I know you think you’re abandoning him by blocking him, but he already left.” That made it all make sense. And so I blocked him.

I was free. Finally. After 6+ years of emotional abuse and placing my entire self-worth and happiness on a guy who seemed to thrive off of building me up just to tear me back down again, I was free. And aside from one day when my block list got deleted (and I didn’t know it) after a factory reset on my phone, I haven’t heard from him since. It’s been one year, ten months, and nineteen days.

Do I still think about him? Yes, and it hurts. Do I still worry about him? Yes, and I expect to for a long time, maybe forever. Do I still wish he was in my life? Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

If you made it through this novel, bless you.

Part 2 coming soon: How “Fool’s Gold” and “Girl Almighty” connect to all of this.

All the love xx

#emotional abuse tw #verbal abuse tw #survival #personal

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