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mangoisms · 2 years ago

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i'll be the dangerous ledge (you be the parachute)

━ chapter five: go ahead and pull the pin | read chapter four

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 5.1k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

You get the spare key to Tim. The rest of your weekend is slow, relaxed. He comes over on both Saturday and Sunday and you two do your usual thing.

Each day — and Friday evening — he volunteers to change the dressings on your injuries.

You let him.

It’s easier now, not just because he had already done it the day it happened and because you two talked about it, but because you are starting to see how nice it is to have someone take care of you. Everything between you two is better. More comfortable, more… secure, now that boundaries have been discussed.

He drives you to work for the first couple days of next week, until your knee is good enough for biking again.

You had some reservations about getting back on your bike, not because you hadn’t been on it for a while — though that was a thought — but more because you hadn’t been on it since your accident happened.

You worried it might be uncomfortable for you, but aside from some… renewed fears of falling over, it’s okay. On Wednesday, you get back to it, and by Friday, it’s like nothing ever happened.

You do have a few unsettling dreams about the incident, mostly the kind where you didn’t walk away from it. But you remind yourself that you did, that it was just an accident at the laundromat that caused everything, and not, you know, the Joker blowing up the block. A freak accident, that’s all.

Soon enough, it is Friday, and you, Ms. C, and another class of sixth graders alongside your own are on the ferry, crossing Gotham Harbor, heading south for Metropolis.

The field trip hadn’t been for the zoo there initially; it was Gotham’s, then sudden reports of animal cruelty and mistreatment came out and Poison Ivy’s wrath quickly followed, closing down the zoo with her deadly flora and fauna protecting it. The police arrested the staff but they didn’t catch her. No matter, you think. Metropolis’ zoo is probably better.

But the kids weren’t looking forward to that. Mostly, they were looking forward to being in the same city as Superman, many of them raving about the chance to see him. You personally would be quite fine with not seeing him, since, you know, the only way you could was if you were all in terrible danger and that would be hard to explain to the parents.

So, naturally, on the day of the trip, you expect the kids to be buzzing about it — about being on the ferry, dark waters gliding beneath the ship, the breeze carrying sprays of saltwater.

But nope. Not even a peep about Superman. Instead…

“The Titans? What about the Titans?” you ask, puzzled, leaning against the railing. Ms. C on your left and Amir, the aide for the other class, on your right. The teacher for that class, Mr. Chu, promptly became seasick a few minutes into the ride and stepped inside to get away from it.

Ms. C hums distantly next to you. “Who knows?”

Amir blinks. “You guys didn’t hear?”

She shrugs and turns to look out at the waves, apparently not wanting to know, either.

You do, however. “Hear what?”

They shake their head, pulling out their phone. “It’s been all over the news since yesterday. The Titans announced that one of their core members is stepping down. Well, they were cornered into it, really. Someone got a source and spread the rumor about it, so the Titans had to hold a conference about it.”

“Who was the rumor about?”

“Red Robin.”

Oh, he’s one of Gotham’s. Huh.

“Really? Why?”

They type a few things on their phone, then hand it to you.

You cup your hand over the speaker to hear what looks to be a press conference, with a primly-dressed woman standing up at a podium. The banner reads: TITANS’ RED ROBIN STEPS DOWN.

“Oh, here.” Amir leans over to turn on the captions, then turns sharply as someone yells. “Woah, hey, Brianna, don’t do that! No, I don’t care if you can swim, we went over this! You aren’t allowed to jump overboard…”

They step away to continue lecturing the pouting girl standing by the railing.

Your eyes find the captions at the bottom.

“Red Robin is not retiring. He is simply taking a step back from the team and this is perfectly fine, as the team has many members to fill in for him. As for Gotham City itself, we cannot speak for it, though the Titans would like to emphasize that the city remains well taken care of regardless.”

Amir returns to your side, smoothing a hand down their clothes.

“So, he’s stepping down,” you say, handing their phone back.

“It’s not surprising, since some of the older members have done the same, like Nightwing. They’re still involved on occasion, but they’re not out there, you know, hero-ing.”

“What about Gotham, then?”

They shrug. “People see Nightwing in New York sometimes. That’s probably what’s gonna happen. But later, I think. With this news, a lot of people are thinking things might get a little crazy around here.”

“Ah. Assuming they can try their luck?”

“Most likely.”

You feel for Red Robin in that moment. It’s not too much to ask for, to return to the other side of his life, only for those plans to be pushed off even longer as those here want to try and take advantage of his absence.

You couldn’t do it, you think. Live that kind of life, constantly sacrificing yourself. Makes it all the more important to appreciate the ones that do. You’re partial to the League but the Titans are equally as important. Without them, earth would be conquered multiple times over. And that’s just not fun at all.

The rest of the trip goes well. The kids get excited about Superman again when the ferry finally docks in Metropolis. They even get a treat when they glimpse him in the sky, accompanied with the sound of him breaking the sound barrier as he rushes off somewhere. Despite that worrying you a bit — who knows if it’s something simple, like a cat stuck in a tree, or much more dire, like aliens invading — everything is fine.

All of you are running around making sure no one gets left behind or lost, leaving you exhausted by the time you return to Gotham at five. Then you have to wait even longer to make sure each kid gets picked up.

You get back to Rose Oaks at seven. Tim had texted you two hours ago letting you know he had fed the boys and told you to come by his place for dinner.

Not one to say no to free food or being with him, you stop by your place to shower the day away and change into a pair of shorts and an old softball t-shirt, then head to his place.

“Starting to think I should just give you a spare,” he says when he pulls the door open, a spatula in his hand, lips quirking when he sees you.

“Well, you do have mine,” you agree. “Unless you did weird stuff with your unsupervised access to my place.”

“I didn’t install cameras in your bedroom or steal your underwear. Scout’s promise.”

“You were a Boy Scout?”

“Not even a little bit,” he says easily and you laugh, stepping inside.

You slip off your slides and leave them by the door. He started to implement that rule a little while after he met you. Said it just makes more sense and makes cleaning easier. You think so, too, but the fact that he did it because of you makes you all warm and fuzzy inside.

“How was Metropolis?”

“Meh. Metropolis.”

“What, not a fan?”

“The city itself is fine. But their baseball team?”

“The Metropolis Monarchs that continue to beat the Knights without fail every time they play each other?”

“It’s just perfect,” you grumble. “They don't have a Joker and they always beat us. So not fair.”

Tim chuckles, returning to the kitchen. “So, when and where are they playing each other?”

“Two weeks. Here. Can’t wait to hear all the Monarch fans complaining about having to come here. Pretentious jerks.”

He laughs and resumes his work at the stove.

The TV plays in the living room. You flop onto the couch with a grunt, glad to be off your feet.

“You can change the channel,” he calls, looking to be flipping something on the stove. At his elbow on the counter is a plate of what looks to be freshly-made chocolate chip pancakes. Your stomach rumbles at the sweet smell wafting over to you.

You turn your eyes to the flatscreen, where GNN plays.

You read the news banner at the bottom. GOTHAM CITY LOSES RED ROBIN. Looks like they’re still talking about it.

“That’s rough,” you comment, leaning back into the cushions.

“What?”

You relay it to him.

“I mean, that is sort of what’s happening, isn’t it?” he asks, shutting off the burner and moving the pan aside.

“I dunno. I guess. I just think it must suck for him.”

“Isn’t it his responsibility?” Tim asks, his back still to you as he pulls two plates from the cabinet. “So, you know. It’s only fair for people to be wondering that. To be upset.”

“I don’t agree. I mean, I don’t know this guy’s life story but he’s sacrificed a lot to do what he has, right? I don’t think it’s too much to ask for us to let him go and return to his life. ‘Cause it’s kinda crazy what people like him do.”

“They have to do it, though. Especially here.”

“Well, that’s the government’s fault. It’s good he and the others step up, believe me, but it’s also not really a sustainable model for the rest of your life, is it?”

He shakes his head. “In a perfect world, we wouldn’t need them. But we do. And now this guy is just leaving.”

You purse your lips, not used to this stubbornness from him. No, that’s not the right way to say it — you know he is stubborn. It’s more like… Tim is compassionate. Empathetic. You’ve always been supportive of the superheroes of your world and he’s agreed with you. But he’s never been like this. Uncompromising in his disapproval. Almost like it’s personal.

“Come on, Tim. Don’t be like that. I think it’s gonna be fine. Things will be crazy for a little while but when aren’t they? Let Red Robin off the hook. And give him a break. I’m sure he gets enough shit for sharing his name with a restaurant and now this.”

Tim lets out a surprised laugh and you smile, feeling the tension ease. Not just between you over the course of this discussion, but the tension within him, too. You can’t possibly understand what bothers him so much about Red Robin but you don’t think either of you can condemn him. No one can.

But of course, that is not how the world works and you know this by the heated debate going on between the hosts on the news, some strongly disapproving of Red Robin stepping down, some supportive, and others downright severe about his existence as a vigilante in Gotham in the first place.

You switch it to one of the many streaming platforms he has, navigating to The Spongebob Squarepants Movie.

Your phone vibrates with the familiar chime of your email. You groan silently, predicting an email from the school, but when you look at it, it’s from the rec center, from the instructor, Hana, who runs the pottery classes you attend bi-monthly.

You skim the message. It’s for the class next Friday. Something about… Oh. Bring a friend and you get an extra slot for the kiln and the friend gets one, too. Ohhh, very nice, actually.

See, you pay for those classes and with that, you get to use their clay and paint, as well as one free slot for the kiln each class. It’s usually enough for you but you won’t say no to two slots. Not at all…

You eye Tim’s back.

You’ll think about it.

Inviting him, you mean.

He knows you do it, having seen some of the figures and pottery you have, usually expressing his admiration for some of the more complicated pieces, like that one bowl you have with a carved squid.

“You should be an art teacher,” he had said, looking over the bowl with an impressed gaze.

“It’s just a hobby I picked up when I moved here. Had to get out and stuff and the classes were the best way to do it. I prefer my social studies. I mean, it would be great if I could, like, teach and paint and do otherwise art-related things but I don’t think admin would let me. Not unless I was a full teacher and that won’t be for a while.”

“But not impossible, right?”

“No,” you laugh. “I guess not.”

Ah, you’ll think about it.

For now, you get up and help Tim assemble your dinner. Then you two settle down for the movie, which he hasn’t seen. You’ve gotten him through the first few seasons of Spongebob — everything until season six is solid; everything after is… okay — but he still hasn’t seen this, which you think is a crime. You have fond memories of this movie from when you were a kid.

When you finish your food, you set your plate on the table and snuggle back into the cushions. Tim finishes his, then leans forward to do the same, moving them out the way so you both can put your feet up. He leans back, closer to you this time, your arm pressed to his. The contact goes straight to your head, your heart starting to pound.

To distract yourself, you gesture to the TV and say, “We absolutely need to try and make a Triple Gooberberry Sunrise.”

“You’re insane,” he says, but pauses the movie to pick up his phone and pull up Instacart. “Alright. I have the vanilla ice cream and bananas. What else do we need?”

You huddle closer, leaning your chin against his arm. “We need the candy for the face. And the chocolate. And cherries. Ooh and the cup it’s in. If possible.”

“If possible,” he scoffs, typing quickly. “The only way we’re doing this is if we have all the right tools to create an exact replica.”

“An exact replica? Should probably get another carton of ice cream. Also, I don’t think the laws of nature allow for that. I mean, not totally.”

“Hey, if they can do it underwater, we can do it in real life.”

“I like your attitude, Tim Drake.”

He shoots you a grin that makes everything inside of you heat up and you look back at his phone to try and recover, nudging his shoulder with yours.

“Do you use your actual name for orders?”

“Nope. And with that said, you mind grabbing it when it gets here?”

“No. But if the driver murders me when I do, I’m haunting you.”

“I want to say the danger involved with our Instacart driver is very low but unfortunately, we do live in Gotham, so the chance isn’t totally off the table.”

“Such is life. Well, you better tip good anyway.”

“Of course,” he says, slightly affronted, mostly because it is known that Tim tips exceedingly well. Stupidly almost. But you say almost because you live in a capitalist hellscape where most food industry workers rely on tips so, there’s no limit there, you think. Especially if you have as much money as he does.

He places the order, you rewind to a frame with the ice cream on display, then you two try to get a plan of action in order.

You fetch the groceries when they arrive and Tim takes out the ice cream. You did manage to find a frosted blue ice cream bowl that looks eerily similar to the one in the movie and together, you two shape the body of the Triple Gooberberry Sunrise with spoons. It’s a lot of ice cream and ice cream melts, so despite using spoons to shape it, your fingers are still sticky by the end of it but your lower back aches from all the laughing you two did while sculpting it, having been shooting insults at each other over your abilities to sculpt.

You shove the ice cream in the freezer in the meantime, then work on the features. You use M&Ms for the eyes and nose, then deconstruct those chunky Twizzler ropes for the smile. Tim works on the banana, cutting one in half for the arms, then another in half for the head. He offers the other half to you, which you take a bite out of, and he then finishes.

You snap a few toothpicks in half to pin the cherries to the tips of the bananas, then bring out the ice cream again to add the finishing touches. First, though, you need to add the chocolate shell at the top. Like a hat of sorts.

“Don’t blow it,” he says, watching you pop the lid on the chocolate syrup.

“I’m not gonna blow it.”

So, naturally, you do blow it.

And that sounds dramatic, you know, but it’s not. It’s just, you hold the bottle above the top of the mound of ice cream, the face already made with the M&Ms and a single Twizzler rope, and the syrup comes out more syrupy than you expect. So, you squeeze it out and it immediately drips down the face. Like right down the middle, and you both look at it for a second, then each other, and then you’re laughing so hard, you have to hold onto the counter.

Tim manages to get it together before you, finishing adding the hard shell, though it drips a little more down the sides, then adds the bananas.

And it looks…

“So stupid,” he laughs, holding onto the counter. “So, so, so stupid.”

You’re still laughing. You can’t stop laughing. But you can’t help but think he looks beautiful like this, cheeks flushed, blue eyes bright, a smile permanently etched onto his lips as his laughter fills the kitchen.

You can’t help but feel something so big, so full of warmth, ballooning in your chest until you think you might explode with it. That he gave into your wish to make the stupid ice cream in the first place. That he is always willing to indulge you. And the thought chokes you, too much to handle here, so you set those thoughts and feelings aside and look at the stupid ice cream again to get back to where you were, more mirth taking over you.

You list into him and he catches you, laughing, too.

You think that despite it looking stupid, the fact that it was made with so much joy makes it taste that much better.

(Though neither of you can finish it and you two end up in an ice cream coma on the couch, resuming the movie, and it is with great reluctance a few hours later that you peel yourself from his side and go back to your place.

This time, however, with his spare key and with the surety that he has carved out his own spot in your heart and that no one but him can fill it.

That that doesn’t matter, anyway, because you want only him.

But with that thought comes the acknowledgment that he most likely doesn’t feel the same and that’s okay.

You want him in any capacity that you can have him.

And this is enough.

It has to be enough.)

Tim is busy the next day, hanging out with friends, which is fine. You don’t mind the alone time.

You laze around for most of the day. Do some grading you still have but they’re easier assignments you finish quickly, marking them up with your blue glitter pen and making the usual smiley faces and little notes. You take a moment to appreciate the easiness of it. With it being late April, the end of the semester will come up quickly and you’ll have deadlines for final grades.

But you won’t worry about it yet.

School lets out in June, then you’re home free for the summer. That’s the nice part of working for the school. Your breaks coincide with theirs, so you get a nice summer. Nice breaks in general.

At ten-thirty, you prepare your dirty clothes to take them downstairs. You slide your basket to the living room, then step into the kitchen to grab detergent. But when you open the bottom cabinet with your supplies and reach for the tub of detergent, you find it decidedly empty.

You groan. You completely forget. You had run out of your pods and needed more. You were supposed to do that… yesterday? Probably. But after making sure the kids were picked up then being dogged by hunger and achy feet, it slipped your mind.

Ah, no matter. Tim should have some. You hope. Speaking of, you should ask to borrow his Costco card again. It’s hard to go back to buying single packs of detergent at the store. Some things just need to be stockpiled.

(Mostly so situations like these don’t happen.)

You heft your laundry basket to your hip, pull on your sandals, then grab your keys and step out.

You take the elevator one floor up, finding Tim’s apartment easily. He didn’t respond to your texts about the detergent and you don’t know if his friends are still there, so, despite the new key on your key ring, you knock.

You only get one in before the door swings open quickly and you jump. At the abruptness of the motion, then at seeing someone you definitely do not know standing there.

With unruly ginger hair, a freckled face, and an undeniable air of mischief, he grins at you in a way that has you on guard immediately.

“Hi. Are you Tim’s new teacher friend?”

“Um —”

“Bart! You can’t — oh —” Tim says your name, a little panicked, and he shoves past the guy — Bart? — giving him a look and shooing him away.

He backs off, only for two others to peek around him. A pretty girl with short, cropped blonde hair and twinkling blue eyes, then an equally pretty guy with short black hair and blue eyes. They look very curious at your appearance and you feel terribly underdressed in a pair of old workout shorts and a ratty shirt from high school.

“Guys,” Tim hisses.

They wave at you and, with a fair amount of uncertainty, you wave back.

Seemingly satisfied with that, the three of them disappear into the living room, hurried, hushed voices reaching your ears.

“Sorry,” you breathe as soon as they’re out of earshot. “I’m so sorry, Tim —”

He waves his hands, stopping you. “Hey, hey, what are you apologizing for?”

You wince. “Interrupting your time with your friends? It’s just, I ran out of detergent, so I was wondering if I could borrow a pod or two.”

“Of course,” he says immediately. “Give me a sec, alright?”

You nod and he disappears from the entryway. You hear the sound of a kitchen cabinet closing, then he’s returning, passing you two pods.

“Let me come with you,” he says, slipping socked feet into a pair of slides.

“You don’t have to —”

“It’s okay. I haven’t seen you today.” Of course, he says that with the implication that because he hasn’t seen you, he must take this opportunity now, because he —

Missed you?

Well, shit.

Your face flares with heat at the thought. Your fingers grow sweaty from holding the basket. You try to compose yourself as Tim shuts the door behind him and locks it.

“Anyway,” he goes on, turning to you, the two of you starting for the elevator. “Bart didn’t say anything weird, right?”

In safer waters, you can relax.

For the most part.

“He just said something about me being your teacher friend. So, no.”

Tim visibly relaxes, pressing the button to go down as you stop in front of the elevator.

“Good. He can be… a handful sometimes. The other two you saw were Cassie and Conner.”

“Well, tell them it was nice to meet them. Sort of.”

He exhales a laugh, running a hand through his hair. He’s in a forest green t-shirt and jeans. Simple clothes, by any means, yet devastatingly handsome as usual. Man.

Ding. The doors slide open. A man steps out and you two step in. He presses the button for the ground floor.

“You do yours today?” you ask, wiggling your basket in indication of your question.

“No, I’ve been with the others pretty much all day. I’ll have to do it tomorrow. Or later tonight when they leave. If they ever leave.” He says the last part mock-exasperated, rolling his eyes, but you can spy the fondness tugging at his mouth.

“Be more grateful,” you tease.

“Say that when you’ve handled them all day,” he shoots back.

You chuckle, turning to watch the numbers tick by.

“So,” he starts a minute later, regaining your attention. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About stepping back from WE. I think… you’re right.”

“Yeah? Gonna try, um, wedding photography?”

“I’m not that desperate yet,” he chuckles. “To be honest, I’m not totally sure what I will do. Get back into photography, yeah, maybe some tennis, but only if someone agrees to play with me…”

“I’ll play tennis with you if you play catch with me one of these days.”

“Done,” he says easily. “Anyway, I’m still trying to figure it out and I told Lucius I wasn’t completely out of it. If R&D needs help, I’m happy to, but… no more office visits.”

“Probably for the best. Was your family okay with it?” And by family, you specifically mean Bruce.

“They were okay with it. I think they might’ve expected it,” he admits, a tad sheepish. “In any case, I just wanted to let you know that you were right.”

You shake your head. “All that matters is that you’re happy, Tim. Anything else is —” you wave a hand “— whatever.”

“Well, still,” he says, and his voice is soft, and so is the look in his eyes. “Thanks.”

You smile and look away, cursing the way your heart stutters at the expression on his face being directed at you.

It’s quiet the rest of the ride down. You start humming Ocean Man when it get too quiet.

His eyes crinkle with a smile when he recognizes it. “I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”

“It’s a good song,” you say. “Like the kind of song you play driving down the coast. But, like, the coast coast. Not whatever Gotham’s got going on.”

“Yeah, I don’t think the backdrop of our polluted waters will go with it too much.”

You snicker.

He holds the laundry door open for you and you nod your gratitude in response, heading for the washers.

“If you wanna head up, you can,” you tell him, opening a few and inspecting the inside to see which is good enough for you.

He shrugs, hands tucked in his pockets, leaning on the washer next to the one you decide is good. “Like I said. Haven’t seen you today.”

Well. You’ll hardly complain.

“And I was thinking,” he starts, a forced kind of nonchalance in his voice that gets your attention, even as you dump your clothes into the washer.

“That’s never good.”

He rolls his eyes, wry grin tugging at his lips. “Well. I know you expressed some grievances over the Monarchs coming to play the Knights…”

“Yeah?” you ask, eyebrow raising. You toss in the pods, then pull out your phone. They finally fixed the app, so you no longer have to go the old-fashioned way. You still prefer it, but one does get tired of their hands smelling like coins.

“And,” he goes on, blue eyes twinkling with something that makes warmth spool in your chest like cotton candy. “I thought, since when we went the Knights won their first ever Opening Day match… maybe we should go to this game, too.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” he says, pleased, pulling out his phone and brandishing an email, confirming a purchase of two tickets to the game in two weeks, on Saturday.

“Tim!”

“Hey, I’m just doing my due diligence in making sure the Knights have a fair shot at beating the Monarchs.”

“What does that mean?” you ask, flabbergasted.

He shrugs, smiling still. “Well, since it was your first ever game for them and they won… doesn’t seem too far-fetched to say you’re their good luck charm.”

“That is not how that works,” you say, and yet, you’re unbearably happy, mostly at the thought of him doing this for you. “You didn’t have to do that. I could’ve paid for my ticket —”

“No, no, this is my — what do you call it? My civic responsibility to society as the son of a billionaire.”

“That was — a joke…” For the most part. Funny how it’s easier to say that when you don’t know him or his family, but when you do, it’s almost uncomfortable.

But of course, it is not exactly incorrect, either.

Tim has a lot of money. Bruce Wayne has a lot of money. You do not.

Your face burns with heat. “Thanks, Timmy. That’s… really nice of you.”

Too nice, maybe. Much too nice.

“I don’t mind,” he says and it sounds like he means it, too, that soft look in his gaze again. Your stomach swoops like you missed a step going down.

“Besides,” he adds, the two of you heading for the door again. “I was thinking we could get something to eat beforehand. Something light since I know you said no baseball game is complete without a hot dog… but in that case, you can pay for that.”

“I will pay for that,” you mutter.

He laughs. “See? Fair’s fair.”

Easy for him to say.

But you’d be lying through your teeth if you said any of this displeased you.

It’s Tim, after all.

With him, you’re weak, like putty in his hands. He doesn’t know that, you think. Doesn’t know how much he means to you, how much you would do for him.

But he can’t know. Because knowing that means knowing the depth of your affection, too, and that is a secret you’ll keep locked away until the end of your days.

(Thinking that is dangerous, you know. Because it’s Gotham and nothing is impossible in Gotham and you hardly want to tempt fate.

Doesn’t make it any less true, though.)

━ end notes

1. i know they really try to pass batman and the others off as urban legends these days but. it doesn't make much sense when you consider the notoriety of say, the justice league or as seen here, the titans. you can't just have a team of superheroes and not have the public not knowing shit about that. however, i will say i do think they can still balance fear and myth while being well-known. bruce definitely can anyway

2. on that note, it always made more sense to me that the justice league, the titans, and basically all the superhero teams have to have some kind of pr team/department. they're super-powered or otherwise very talented but i think both the distance of a pr team is needed, as well as the fact that, well, that's strictly their job, to get the teams out of any messes they create. additionally, there has to be some kind of bureaucratic element to all of it, at least regarding who joins on missions and what not. basically, i don't think they would let teams of superheroes run around without supervision. not to say they're, like, extensions of the government because That Would Be Bad but... you know? gotta have accountability

3. the early seasons of spongebob are great and so is the movie. peak childhood moments for me and still now tbh. it's just very nostalgic. also as we all know food just looks so much better in cartoons and the triple gooberberry sundae is one of those things too. also kind of insane that they made him, like, drunk off it. old 2000s childhood tv shows are just insane in general

4. ocean man is a deeply excellent song and i was first introduced to it through the spongebob movie and i still regard it dearly. even if its silly its fun and catchy ok

reblogs are appreciated!

#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #tim drake x you #red robin x you #dc comics x reader #dc comics x you #dc comics imagine #tim drake x y/n #red robin x y/n #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #batfam x reader #batfam x you

113 notes · View notes

rmd-writes · 1 year ago

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weekend wip game (I stole your banner Lola, soz)

Tagged by @welcometololaland @jesuisici33 💖

1. WIP List:

I don't really have any real wips currently (okay, there is one), I'm in that weird limbo where I finished my last project and am about to start another, but I guess I can do this for anything I've given a little thought to - some have an actual plot, some have a line or two or dialogue, some are just a concept

Call Me (By My Name) - a Tarlos collab with @welcometololaland this is actually the thing I'm about to start working on

SC Frozen Over 2023 fic

Tarlos gym AU series

Firstprince dog meet cute AU (aka Frida fic)

Tarlos model AU

Tarlos spy AU

Vet!TK/social worker!Carlos fwb to lovers AU

Firstprince childhood friends to exes to lovers tattoo shop AU

Lawyer AU pt 3

2. Which of your WIPs is currently the longest?

The firstprince dog meetcute is the only one that I've actually put words to

3. Which WIP do you expect will end up the longest?

Either Call Me (By My Name) because Lola and I have no control over words when we write together, or the Tarlos model AU has the potential to spiral into something lengthy

4. Which WIP is your favourite to write/the most enjoyable to write? Why?

Pass. See above re not actually working on any of them yet. But the collab is going to be super fun because it's low pressure and we just vibe

5. Which WIP do you find the most intimidating to write? Why?

The firstprince tattoo shop AU because the way I want to tell the story, it has two timelines and I want it to be non-linear. Also the Tarlos spy AU because it's so out of my wheelhouse

6. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

See above

7. Which of your WIPs will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? Why?

I have almost everything that isn't just PWP beta read! I like having trusted friends in my docs, it gives me motivation to write and also I am needy and require validation while I'm writing. Beta readers make such a difference though - I can edit my own work and come up with a pretty clean copy when I don't use a beta reader - but it's always good to get fresh perspective to address any plot holes or just add that little bit extra. And also to remind me that sentences should not be 5 lines long all the time and point out when I use the same word 3 times in one paragraph 😅

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of writer's block?

Oh it's not on the list because I don't know if I'll ever go back to it, but

9. Which WIP has your favourite OC? Tell us about them?

Lawyer AU part 3, because Brianna (Alex's PA) is an absolute queen

10. Which WIP is the sexiest?

either the gym AU (I mean, if you've read the earlier parts of the series, you'll know why) or the Tarlos spy AU or Call Me (By My Name) (the things Lola and I have ✨planned✨ 😌😌😌)

11. Which WIP is the angstiest?

Probably the firstprince tattoo shop au because it has an exes element

12. Which WIP has the best characterisation (in your humble opinion)?

13. Which WIP has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

14. Which WIP have you worked the hardest on?

lol none of them yet

15. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for? Why?

16. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

I never remember my dreams!

17. Do any of your WIPs have particular complexities that your other fics don't?

As above, the firstprince tattoo shop au will have dual timelines and be told in a non linear way

18. Which WIP is the funniest or has the most humour?

Call Me (By My Name) because it's Lola and I, so expect sexy vibes with a healthy dose of chaose

19. Do any of your WIPs contain outside POVs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? How are you finding that process?

Lawyer AU pt 3 is going to be mostly outsider pov!

20. Tell us one thing we don't know about one or more of your WIPs.

If I manage to get my shit together and actually write some SC fic for the Frozen Over fest this year, that will make it three years in a row that I've participated in that fest 💖

Tags and questions for artists/gifmakers under the cut!

Tagging: @orchidscript @carlos-in-glasses @goodways @lightningboltreader @reasonandfaithinharmony @guardian-angle22 @herefortarlos @fitzherbertssmolder @never-blooms @liminalmemories21 @freneticfloetry @ambiguouspenny @lizzie-bennetdarcy @wandering-night19 @sherryvalli @heartstringsduet @iboatedhere @clottedcreamfudge @kiwiana-writes @cricketnationrise @sunshinestrand @stereopticons @ramonaflow @chelle-68 @hearitinthesilencesilence @leaves-of-laurelin @maxbegone and anyone else who wants to play

Questions for artists/gifmakers

1. WIP List:

2. Which WIP is your most complex?

3. Do any of your WIPs involve you using a technique/style that you haven't used before? What inspired you to try it?

4. Which WIP do you expect will take you the longest?

5. Which WIP are you finding the most enjoyable to create?

6. Do you have a favourite character to draw/stitch/paint/depict? Are they in many of your WIP projects?

7. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of creator's block?

9. Do any of your WIPs contain characters outside the main ship? How are you finding creating those?

10. What emotions are you hoping to convey through your WIPs?

11. Are there any features/details you are finding challenging in your WIPs?

12. Which WIP has the most complex shading/colouring?

13. Which WIP has the most complex background?

14. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for?

15. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

16. Do any of your WIPs have particular complexities that your other art doesn't?

17. Are any of your WIPs commissions?

18. Do you have a character that is more difficult to draw/stitch/paint/depict? Are they in many of your WIP projects?

19. Tell us one thing we don't know about one or more of your WIPs.

#tag game #weekend wip game

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laurie-stark · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter IV: Billy Eichner

A/N:

thank you again for all the love and support. with this chapter, we wrap up act 1 of cherry bomb volume 1! how exciting.

Word count: 5.5k

Cherry Bomb Masterlist

Friday afternoon rolled around fast, and before I knew it the final bell rang through the school halls. A buzzed energy vibrated off the shuffling groups of students who were all eager to begin their weekends. I was eager to get home and pack my overnight bags, desperate to get out of the city. Brianna was leaning against the locker next to mine, talking at lightning pace about the musical she and her family were seeing that night.

“Wait, you’re seeing Hamilton again?” I asked. I sifted through one of my binders to pull the notes I needed for studying.

“Have you not been listening to a word I’ve said for the last three weeks?” Brianna rolled her eyes. “Yes, I am seeing Hamilton again.” I could have bet money that this would make it her seventh or eighth time seeing the show on Broadway that year alone. I used to think that I was a crazy musical theatre nerd until I met Bri.

“You are so lucky,” I said. I had heard such great things about the show from her and still hadn’t gotten to see it myself.

“Don’t tell me you still haven’t seen it Laur, it’s practically old news by now!” Brianna laughed, tossing ringlets of fire over her shoulder.

“I know, I know!” I said, head thrown back against my locker as I shut it. “I keep trying to get my dad to buy us tickets but he has all these work trips and truth be told I think he forgets to buy them on purpose.”

“Okay, but your dad like, hates musicals, right?” she asked. I nodded and she gave me a genuine look of apology. “Well, I’m sure he’ll just love our show. Maybe Mer and I can finally meet him!”

I grit my teeth and grinned falsely. The Dalton’s school musical was set to happen in June, and my father wouldn’t miss it for the world. But the world had no idea that his daughter was in it, let alone that he had a daughter at all. When we found out I’d be performing, he arranged for a huge donation to the school so that he could attend the show under the guise of “funding youth’s artistic endeavours.” And it was a real kind gesture, I just wished he could come for me without the spangled banners and flashing bills.

“Yeah, maybe!” I choked out. It was a running joke in our friend circle that my parents must be Russian spies or royalty, because neither Brianna nor Meredith have met them. At first, the jokes made me laugh, like the one time Meredith created the elaborate rumour that my parents died in a tragic accident when I was a baby and I was actually raised by my robotic nanny. But with the school year end approaching, and three more years left to go, I was getting stressed about having to maintain the facades.

I pulled my body away from the lockers, signalling to Brianna that I wanted to start moving. We walked side by side through the halls and out to the street. She and I both spotted her dad’s car at the same time. It was parked a few buildings down the block. Mr. Sinclair stuck his head out of the window and waved at us.

“Oh my God, he is so embarrassing.” Brianna covered her eyes with one hand and spun us around with the other. I laughed at the way she shrunk into me. I pulled her into a quick hug to say goodbye.

“You’re lucky that your dad can pick you up though, not everyone gets that,” I said. She pulled back from my embrace with a quizzical look on her face. I realized how what I just said sounded and quickly recovered. “My dad’s still on that damn work trip, I gotta walk today.”

Brianna peered at me through narrowed eyes but resigned to not say anything. She stepped forward and threw an arm around my side to say goodbye, then turned down the street and got into her father’s car.

The straps of my backpack weighed heavy on my shoulders, pinching the skin at the base of my neck. I tightened the straps and turned on my heels to begin the treacherous journey home (all twenty minutes of it).

When I was younger, my dad used to say that the longer the days got, the shorter they felt because everything fun happens when it’s warmer. But back then we split our time between Miami and New York, so it was always warm for him. It wasn’t often that I asked Happy to disregard his unpaid childcare duties, especially in the winter when the streets of New York were covered in slush and mud. The people were always angrier during the cold months, always desperate to get wherever they were going. But God forbid I ever took the bus. Gross.

Today, the sun was beaming down on my face, surrounded by the perfect array of puffy white clouds. It was lucky that my school got out in the early afternoon, I thought. The rush hour wouldn’t begin for another few hours and that meant the commotion on sidewalks was lessened. I made my way south down Park Avenue. This part of the Upper East Side was never all that exciting; mostly a residential area paired with blaring horns and car fumes.

I beelined my way around nannies with strollers, kids on scooters and vendors looking to scam unknowing tourists. The people were the most interesting part of the city. I’d always been good at blending in, at keeping the attention drawn to a minimum. Even when I’d sit at the back of press conferences my Dad was at, nobody batted an eye at the six-year-old in a freshly pressed suit. I fit in well along a people-lined street, where everyone around me was hyper focused on their own lives to pay me any mind. To them I was just another city girl.

Just as I was about to turn the corner and cross the street, a flash of cerulean blue stopped me. A middle-aged man holding a microphone and his camera crew had stopped me in my path. The man was shouting loudly but I couldn’t make out any of the words. He moved with such purpose, so much vigour, I felt like I just been hit by a tornado.

“What?” I yelled back at him. He stuck his microphone in my face. The cord, which was attached to nothing, swung between us.

“I said ‘Miss, for a dollar, who is the worst Avenger?’” the man repeated his question impatiently. A ridiculously giddy smile crept across my face as I realized who he was.

“Iron man.” I leaned into the microphone and smiled cheekily at the camera.

“Wonderful, here!” Billy Eichner thrust a dollar into my hand and took off to his next victim. I struggled to grasp the bill, still reeling from the encounter. Oh, the things that happen in New York. After a moment I shook my head and crossed Park Avenue, wondering if Billy’s segments were live or pre-recorded these days.

The side street I lived on was beautiful, with classic brownstone townhouses and trees lining the sidewalk. Dad and I moved into the new house maybe a month after the Battle of Sokovia. After Dad decided to sell his beloved Stark Tower, we became a couple of regular, townhouse-owning Joe’s…apart from the several other properties he owned.

The house itself was packed tightly between buildings on a street reminded me of a sardine can: two neat rows of houses with absolutely no space to wiggle. Dad picked it because it stood out from the rest; smooth white brick contrasting the surrounding muddy browns and reds. There was something very Roman about the architecture. Dad said it had to have been Italian, and therefore the best on the block. He really liked pulling the Italian card when it made him look cool.

I stepped up to the front door and grasped onto the handle, placing my thumb directly onto the latch. A faint vibration buzzed beneath the pad of my thumb. The door was scanning my fingerprints, a security measure I was all too familiar with. I don’t think there was ever a house, a car, or a bedroom of mine that didn’t require some kind of bodily scanning. The door clicked and I pushed down on the latch, swinging the front door wide open.

I kicked my school shoes off on the entryway mat and padded into the kitchen. Setting my backpack down onto one of the island bar stools, I made my way straight to the fridge for a snack. I settled on a small bowl of strawberries. They were my favourite, and I always missed them dreadfully when they were banned from the house to keep Pepper safe.

A familiar ringtone to the tune of “Blank Space” by Taylor Swift cut the sounds of my chewing. It was muffled by my backpack; I’d left my phone in one of the pockets.

“Who’s calling?” I asked out loud to the empty house.

“Your father,” A.P.R.I.L. responded over the house’s loudspeakers. “Should I answer?”

“Yeah, throw him onto the surround sound.”

“Hey there, little miss.” Dad said after A.P.R.I.L. connected his call. His voice came down right above my head. “How was the rest of your week?”

“Hi Daddy.” I smiled. He had called me after the fiasco that was Wednesday and I cried for an hour about my history test, but he got so busy with M.I.T. that I hadn’t heard from him since. “It was good, glad it’s over. How’s Boston?”

“Oh you know, it’s no tea party,” Dad joked, laughing at himself like he was hilarious.

“You are so lame.” I rolled my eyes and popped another strawberry into my mouth.

“You love my jokes.”

“Yeah, the one’s that are funny,” I laughed staley.

“See? Ha, made you laugh.”

I rolled my eyes at the phone.

“I heard that,” Dad said. I snorted and shook my head, glad that he couldn’t see what I was snacking on. Sometimes when he called he could project a hologram of himself, like a larger-scale FaceTime. “Anyway, more about me. It has been way too long since I’ve been to MIT. Did you know they redid the entire Edgerton Center?”

“I don’t even know what that is, Dad.”

Dad sighed dramatically. “I did not culture you enough growing up.”

And he wondered where I got my flare from. “Were the students happy with your visit?”

“Well, seeing as I am personally funding each and every one of their research projects for the rest of the year, yeah, yeah they were.”

“Very generous Mr. Stark,” I said in a posh British accent. This was one of our bits that originated when we made fun of a British delegate who wanted to buy STARK armoury way back in the day.

“Why thank you, Miss Stark.” Dad’s British accent was not nearly as good as my own.

“Are you still coming back on Sunday?” I asked.

“Yes I am, so don’t throw any ragers while I’m not there, okay?”

“Dad I’m not going to throw a party-”

“But if you do, take a shot in my honour.”

“Dad! You are such a bad influence.”

“You turned out fine,”

“Yeah, thanks to Pepper.” The joke came out faster than I could catch it. Dad went quiet on the other end of the call. I cursed myself for saying anything at all. Silence fell around me like a sheet on old furniture. Silence that reminded you of how distant a father and daughter could be. “Sorry.”

I heard static on the other end, the sound of my father shifting around uncomfortably wherever he was sitting.

“It’s fine, Laurie,” Dad said apprehensively. “It’s fine! Actually no, it’s grand even. You and I haven’t been on our own since…ever, and I’d bet that your psychiatrist would want us to take this time to bond.”

“I’m not even gonna be here this weekend.” I rerouted the conversation, deciding it was probably better for Dad if I didn’t tell him I saw Pepper earlier in the week. His Arc reactor would go out.

“What? Where are you going? Are you seeing a boy?”

“NO!” I slapped my hand across my forehead. There was no way in hell that I’d ever tell my father anything about a boy.

“Last minute spa getaway with the girls? Do tell Mer and Bri that I miss them dearly.” I heard some shuffling in the background as Dad spoke. Voices asking when Mr. Stark would be ready to go.

“You’ve never met them,” I reminded him.

“Eh, bygones. But spill, where are you going? Not that I won’t be tracking your location anyway.”

“I just undid that code in A.P.R.I.L.,” I groaned. The one downside to constructing an artificial assistant using my Dad’s old foundations was that he could get inside her systems almost effortlessly. “Relax. I’m just going up to the compound.”

“Why?” Dad’s tone was sharp. It caught me off guard and I felt myself sink down in my seat.

“I dunno,” I shrugged. “Steve offered the invitation when I was there on Wednesday and I’ve got nothing better to do. Plus, this house is six floors of ‘too big for one person’. I’m lonely.”

“It’s seven floors of really frigging cool! Go swim in the pool, go watch a movie. What do you mean you’re lonely?” Dad exclaimed. The last question came out all jumbled up, like one big word. “You’re not lonely, you got Happy!”

“Happy is a grown man. With a job, and a life,” I retorted. I had gotten up from my seat to put my now empty bowl into the dishwasher.

“He’s our grown man.”

I shook my head at nothing for the hundredth time during this call and picked up my backpack to take to my room upstairs.

“Dad,” I drawlled. “It’s not a big deal, it’s just the compound.”

“Okay, well I just don’t see why you need to go all the way up there.

“Is ‘I want to’ not enough of an answer for you?” I shot back, more harshly than I intended to.

The truth was, I knew that my dad was weary about me still having a close relationship with the remaining Avengers. He didn’t like that I was training at all, he thought it would put ideas in my head about wanting to become an agent again. But I knew deep down it was just for fun, and to get a handle on the powers that were growing more uncontrollable each day. I never wanted to become an Avenger, and I only liked being an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. because I liked being a part of something bigger than myself. With everything that happened in Sokovia or Washington in the last few years…I was happy to be rid of it all. But I was not happy to be rid of my family.

“I am going,” I started, “to spend time with people that I love, okay? That’s all.”

I heard Dad sigh into the phone. “Okay. Fine. But do me favour when you’re there.”

“What’s that?”

“Grab one of those stink bombs we made for April Fools Day and plant it in the old man’s office.”

“Oh my god, shut up!” I shook my head in embarrassment, but couldn’t help the smile that crept across my lips. “I need to pack a bag, and you need to go take care of whoever has been calling your name for the last ten minutes.”

My father said goodbye, but not without shooting another joke across the cell line. I disconnected the call the moment I stepped into our elevator, pretending that I lost reception. We both knew that wasn’t true, Tony Stark would never stand for a reception-less elevator.

…

An hour and a half later, the train I was on pulled into an Upstate station. I funnelled through the sea of people making their way through the station out onto the streets. I wasn’t sure who was picking me up today. I had sent a message in our team groupchat about my arrival time and I hoped someone had seen it.

I repositioned the duffle bag on my shoulder and sought higher ground to scope out the parking lot. There was a small garden surrounded by stones near the station’s entrance. I climbed up onto it. The sea of cars all looked the same to me and the sunlight reflecting off the metal was nearly blinding. To my far right I noticed a Black Corevette. Natasha’s car, I thought. But the tall figure leaning against it was definitely not Natasha.

I staggered down from my rock and headed over to greet my mystery chauffeur. The sun was beginning to set behind them, casting a dark shadow that hid their face. It didn’t take long for me to recognize the shortly cut hair and tall physique. Steve Rogers was leaning against the passenger door of the car. He had his cellphone up to his ear talking to someone. I thought it was silly that he refused to upgrade from his little flip phone.

“I will talk to your dad, kid. I promise. You know how much is going on for him.” I overheard the end of his conversation as I approached. “No, I know. I’m not excusing his behaviour, I just want to give him a break…Yes, you are, Theo, you are so smart.”

As I got closer Steve caught a glimpse of me and I heard him cut his phone conversation short.

“Listen Theo, Laurie just got here so I’ve got to run. I’ll talk to you later.” Steve paused, listening to the response on the other line. “Okay kid, goodbye now.”

“Everything alright?” I asked as I approached him.

“Oh yeah, I was just calling to say hi.” Steve smiled, flashing perfect pearly white teeth. “How was the ride up?”

I shrugged. “Good. There was a baby sitting across from me.”

“Cute,” Steve said as he leaned down to open the car door for me. Seven decades in the ice couldn’t knock the gentleman out of him. The commute to the compound was only fifteen minutes, of which I spent thirteen filling Steve in on the raunchy relationship drama between the kids who sat in front of me during math class.

…

Unlike my room at home, where the sunrise poured in through the windows in the morning, I could always sleep in at the compound. The floor to ceiling panels here were west facing, which gave me the well-deserved rest I craved, and a killer view of the sunset over the lake. On this bright Sunday morning, I woke up just before eleven like a tried and true teenager.

I sat up in bed, stretching my arms above my head while an exorbitant yawn filled the room. The muscles in my shoulders and arms ached. Natasha hadn’t been kidding when she said I was going to make up for my behaviour in our last training session. I spent all of Friday night and most of Saturday running drills and practicing the same old fighting techniques with her. It was safe to say that the relaxing weekend I had planned made me even more tired than the week I had before.

I padded down the hallways of the west wing, past the closed doors of the other dorms. Eventually the walls opened up to the wider living space of the compound. I stepped into the kitchen to pour myself a much-needed cup of coffee. Resting against the island counter, I looked out towards the sitting room as I took my first few sips.

Despite midday creeping up, the place was almost a ghost town. Usually the compound was buzzing with Avengers in the kitchen or trainees chatting in the living room. There was always the commotion of life echoing off the walls, with family-style dinners and comradery. But for whatever reason, the last weekend had been anything but warm and friendly.

I was certain that something terrible had happened during the last mission my team went on. The night before during dinner, Natasha and Sam hardly said a word to me, let alone to each other. I was sat across them, watching nervously as they avoided any sort of eye contact with each other. To my side, Steve had been parading around as his typically cheery self, but it felt performative. He was overcompensating, but for what I couldn’t tell. And I hadn’t seen Wanda once.

In the corner of my vision I noticed one of the throw pillows on the couches move. I leaned further over the counter to investigate, only realize that it was not a pillow, but a head. Steve was sprawled across one of the couches, his head propped up against the armrest as he was reading a book. I must have completely missed him when I walked into the kitchen.

I hopped off the stool I was sitting on and trudged over to the living room. Steve heard the gentle thump of my footsteps and looked back. He smiled warmly when he caught my eye, sitting up to make room for me on the couch beside him. I plopped right down, tucking my knees under me so we could sit shoulder to shoulder.

“Good afternoon,” Steve said with a grin.

“It is not afternoon,” I said from behind my coffee mug. “Yet. Where’s everyone else?”

Steve inhaled sharply. I felt his shoulder tense. “I’m not sure. We’ve all been doing our own thing the last few days.”

The muscles in my jaw clenched. I couldn’t figure out what happened to the team I started out with, the team that saved the world in Manhattan. Ever since Ultron, ever since Sokovia fell to pieces and took me down with it, the balance felt off. Maybe it was because we still had no idea where Bruce or Thor were. Maybe they were the glue. Steve opened his mouth again as if to give me another glimpse into his world, but he shut it just as quickly.

I decided enough was enough. I was fed up with walking on eggshells around what had happened on that mission.

“Okay, that’s it.” I sat up straighter so that I could stare Captain America down. “Cut the crap, please.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“I’m done with your propaganda-style acting. It’s bullshit-”

“Langauge!”

“Sorry.” I inhaled shallowly. “But seriously, what the hell happened on your last mission?”

Steve brought a hand to the back of his neck and sighed. “It was rough. We thought had all the information but we didn’t, and some bad calls were made.”

I waited silently for him to go on. When he didn’t, I leaned forward with an expectant face. “Okay, so what happened?”

He looked around like he wanted to make sure no one else was listening. “I don’t think I’m at liberty to say, hon.”

“Come on, dude! It’s me.” I felt frustration bubbling up and burning behind my eyes. Fingernails dug into my palm to keep gravity in place.

“Laurie, we are all okay,” Steve said earnestly. He put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, but it felt more like a warning. “That’s really all that matters.”

“No, of course,” I held my hands up. My word were laced with sarcasm “Because having zero information about what happened or about the wellbeing of my team is incredibly helpful Steven.”

Steve ignored the nickname. “Well, you aren’t a part of the team, Laurie,” he said slowly.

I blinked. My head ricocheted backwards, the words firing like a slap to the face. I pushed Steve’s hand off my shoulder with so much force I almost thought I’d accidentally used my abilities. I must have been showing everything on my face, because Steve rose to his feet as I scrambled onto mine.

“Laurie, hold on. You know that’s not what I meant,” Steve said, waving an imaginary white flag.

“No, no.” I kept my hands up, creating a gap between us. “You’re right. I’m not an agent anymore. I’m not S.H.I.E.L.D..”

I walked backwards as I spoke, towards the dormitory hallway. I turned my back to him and sped down the hall to my room. Steve did look genuinely sorry, but I couldn’t get over how easily he had said it. As though he had it hidden underneath his tongue the whole time. He wasn’t wrong either, my affiliation with S.H.I.E.L.D. was revoked after Sokovia. I wasn’t an Avenger anymore.

Ultron was all the worst sides of my father put into one entity. Obsessive, controlling, and dangerously powerful. He took what he wanted, and also took the things he needed to get his way. I knew that my father felt completely powerless when Ultron managed to capture and use me like a chess piece.

It wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for me either. After Sokovia fell, Dad wanted me as far away from imminent danger as possible. He told me his decision was final because I had already lost so much of my childhood. I never felt like I’d missed out on a normal life, but I opted to let Dad think he knew better than me.

As I sulked my way down the long hallway, I noticed one of the doors was cracked open. Wanda’s room was painted grey, with accents of purple and teal throughout. Light from her windows spilled onto the floor beneath my feet. I could hear muffled voices coming from behind the door, but I knew she was alone. Before I had a chance to think, my feet had turned to the right and I was in her doorway.

My body nudged the door slightly, giving me a better visual of the room. The TV was on and playing the news. I had stopped keeping up with the news after everything with the Mandarin; I always got the heebeegeebees at the thought of a newspaper. Wanda was sitting on her bed, knees tucked under her chin and arms wrapped around herself. I knocked gently on the doorframe, not wanting to startle her.

My heart seized when she turned her head. Wanda’s eyes were masked by dark bags and it was obvious now that she had been crying. The sight of her made me so uncomfortable, the way anyone would get when they see their role model in shambles.

Wanda blinked slowly at me before drawing her attention back to the TV. I took that as my invitation. Gingerly, I took a seat beside her on the edge of her bed and listened to what the newscaster had to say.

In a matter of minutes, all of Steve’s backhandedness, all of Natasha and Sam’s distance and Wanda’s swollen eyes made sense. I held my breath as images of bruised and bloody citizens flooded the streets of Lagos. One video in particular kept playing on a loop. An office building on fire after a detonated explosive had been thrown at it by none other than Wanda herself. The death toll ran along the bottom of the screen, along with the headline, Have the Avengers gone too far?

Wanda had the remote in her hand and was re-running the program over and over. I knew I should have taken it from her, I should have turned the television off. But just like I did in the gym, my body felt frozen in place. I told myself there was nothing I could do that would relieve Wanda from her grief, so there was no point in trying. I shuffled closer to her, leaning my chin on her shoulder and bracing one arm behind her and holding the hand in her lap with my other.

We watched the segment another three times, and each time I morphed my body more and more into Wanda’s. I thought that knowing what happened in Lagos would answer all the questions I had, but I found myself getting more and more confused. I could not wrap my head around how Natasha or Steve let the fight get to that point. If I had been there I could have helped, if they had just let me help…

Our heads turned synchronously when the TV screen turned black. Steve stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. He leaned against the doorframe, eyes glassy. The muscles in my jaw twitched when I held his gaze, still reeling from the offhand comment he made earlier.

Wanda stared off into space as she spoke. “It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“That’s not true.” Steve and I spoke at the same time. I tightened my grip on Wanda’s hand.

“Turn the TV back on,” Wanda replied, her tone disheartening. “They’re being very specific.”

“I should have clocked that bomb vest long before you had to deal with it,” Steve said. He moved forward, taking a seat beside me. I scooted backwards a bit, giving him more room to sit and myself more distance from him. I could tell he noticed, because he faltered as lowered himself down. He was expecting to lean on me. “Rumlow said ‘Bucky’ and all of a sudden I was a sixteen year old kid again in Brooklyn,”

I cocked my head at him, puzzled. When I found out they were going away, I got A.P.R.I.L. to steal the pre-mission reports. It said that they were going after Rumlow because he had biological warfare. What did Bucky Barnes have to do with anything? I fought the urge to ask.

Two years ago when James Barnes had resurfaced, my good friend Steve began the wildest of goose chases. And of course, Nick Fury had found a way to get me tangled up in it all. Despite all the stories Steve had told me in the time between, to paint his friend in a better light, I could not shake the memory of the masked man who threw a car at me on a thirty-foot-high bridge. Next to Ultron, Bucky had been the closest anyone has ever been to killing me.

“And people died. That’s on me.” Steve continued to offer support to his fellow agent, but his words fell onto deaf ears.

“It’s on both of us.” Wanda’s voice was so quiet that I almost missed it. Steve glanced back at me. His face was painted with a slurry of emotions. It made the room feel so heavy.

“I’m sure you both did your best,” I squeaked. It was a strain to get the sentence out; it felt so artificial. My brows furrowed and I clenched the fist that wasn’t supporting my weight. Steve offered me a trying smile.

“This job…we try to save as many people as we can,” Steve said quietly. “Sometimes that doesn’t mean everybody. But if we can’t find a way to live with that, then next time maybe nobody gets saved.”

Wanda nodded along to Steve’s words. We resigned to sit in silence for a moment, as Wanda leaned her weight back against me. A pulse of energy in my core kept me centered. Steve brought a warm hand to my back, and this time I did not push it away.

All three of us jumped when Vision appeared, his body moving seamlessly through the solid wall. I had had very minimal interaction with it…him, since he was created. Vision was a mystery to me, a complex tangle of life and code that I both felt drawn to explore and terrified to touch.

“Vis! We talked about this,” Wanda reprimanded her red and blue counterpart. Unbeknownst to me, walking through walls must have become a regular occurrence.

“Yes, but the door was open so I assumed that…” Vision trailed off when he saw the disapproving look on Wanda’s face. “Captain Rogers wished to know when Mr. Stark was arriving.”

That certainly caught my attention. My dad, here? He wasn’t supposed to be back from Boston until tomorrow.

“Vision, what are you talking about?” I sat up a little straighter.

“Thank you. We’ll be right down,” Steve said. It was as if I hadn’t even spoken. Typical.

“I’ll use the door,” Vision said lightly. “Oh, and apparently he’s brought a guest.”

In a flash, my heart leapt and came crashing down with the hope that it would be Pepper. Foolish thinking, I knew she was long, long gone. Even still, the question still remained: What was Dad doing here, and more importantly, why didn’t he tell me that he was coming?

“We know who it is?” Steve asked.

”The Secretary of State.”

#fanfiction #marvel #peter parker x reader #tony stark #steve rogers #tony stark x daughter!oc #peter parker x stark!oc #peter parker x stark!reader #tony stark's daughter #laurie stark #peter parker #natasharomanoff #original characters #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #mcu fanfic

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romanoffstarkovs · 2 years ago

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Brianna Stark: The Wild Rose

Brianna Stark was born amidst the chill of Winterfell, the youngest daughter of Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and the loving younger sister of the famous Stark siblings - Brandon, Eddard, Lyanna, and Benjen. From a tender age, it was evident that she possessed the fiery spirit that ran in her bloodline, inheriting the wildness of her sister Lyanna, the she-wolf of Winterfell.

Growing up, Brianna's nature contrasted sharply with the traditional expectations for a lady of her station. She defied the norms and societal expectations that tried to confine her spirit within the walls of the castle. Instead, she sought adventure in the vast woods surrounding Winterfell and the snow-capped mountains that loomed in the distance. Brianna was a fearless and agile rider, often galloping through the countryside, her long, bronzed hair trailing behind her like a banner of rebellion.

Yet, amidst her untamed spirit, Brianna held a love for the beauty of the realm. She would spend hours hidden away in the corners of Winterfell's library, devouring tales of chivalry, romance, and courtly intrigues. This passion for stories of distant lands and gallant knights fueled her imagination, making her yearn for the world beyond the North.

Brianna's love for dressing up set her apart from her siblings. While Lyanna favored practicality, donning leathers and furs that suited her adventurous nature, Brianna found joy in adorning herself with elegant gowns and intricate jewelry. She saw these ornate dresses as an extension of her identity - a juxtaposition of her wild spirit and the refined lady within.

Though some dismissed her love for fashion as mere vanity, it was, in truth, a way for her to express herself creatively and embrace her femininity on her own terms. Beneath the gowns and jewelry, she remained a Stark through and through - strong-willed, loyal, and fiercely protective of her family.

As the years passed, Brianna's unique blend of wildness and grace caught the attention of many suitors who sought her hand in marriage. However, she was not easily swayed by societal expectations and refused to be married off solely for political alliances. Brianna dreamt of a love that would match the grandeur of the stories she cherished.

Brianna Stark's journey to King's Landing marked a significant shift in her life. Leaving behind the familiar walls of Winterfell, she ventured into the bustling capital, a place filled with intrigue, power struggles, and the complexities of courtly life. As the youngest daughter of Rickard Stark, she carried the legacy of her noble house, known for its honor, strength, and fierce loyalty.

As Brianna took up her role as a lady-in-waiting to Princess Elia Martell, she quickly earned the trust and affection of her lady. Despite the differences in their upbringings and cultures, the two women found common ground and a deep connection. Brianna's wild nature and love for dressing up added a vibrant and enigmatic charm to her personality, which Princess Elia appreciated in her closest confidant.

Their friendship became a haven for both, a sanctuary amidst the intricate and sometimes treacherous web of King's Landing's politics. Brianna's honesty and candid advice were valued by Princess Elia, who found solace in confiding her worries and hopes to someone who genuinely cared for her wellbeing.

Beyond her duties, Brianna remained true to her Stark identity, even in the bustling streets of the capital. She often visited the godswood within the Red Keep, finding comfort in the presence of the heart tree and its carved face. The godswood provided a reminder of her Northern roots, and she would offer prayers for her family's safety and well-being.

As the events of Robert's Rebellion loomed, tensions escalated, and the realm was on the brink of war. The relationship between Rhaegar Targaryen and Princess Elia faced increasing strain. Through this difficult time, Brianna stood as a steadfast companion, supporting Princess Elia through her uncertainties and fears.

In King's Landing, as Brianna Stark served as a lady-in-waiting for Princess Elia Martell, fate would introduce her to a man who would forever change the course of her life - Ser Arthur Dayne, the renowned Sword of the Morning.

Brianna first encountered Ser Arthur during a courtly event at the Red Keep. As the festivities unfolded, she couldn't help but be drawn to the legendary knight, whose skill with a blade was only rivaled by his chivalry and quiet charisma. Ser Arthur, in turn, was captivated by Brianna's fiery spirit and the way she carried herself with a blend of strength and grace, which reminded him of the legendary Lyanna Stark.

As the days passed, Brianna found herself more frequently in Ser Arthur's presence. He was often at Princess Elia's side, offering his counsel and protection. Their conversations began with formalities, but it didn't take long for genuine camaraderie to grow between them. Brianna appreciated the Knight of the Morning's wisdom and guidance, and Arthur was drawn to her genuine and unpretentious nature.

Amidst the turbulence of courtly life, Brianna and Arthur found solace in each other's company. They would often steal moments away from the grand events, retreating to the gardens or hidden corners of the Red Keep where they could talk freely without the constraints of their titles and responsibilities.

As they shared their dreams, hopes, and fears, a deep connection developed between them. Brianna admired Arthur's sense of duty and honor, while Arthur was captivated by her adventurous spirit and unwavering loyalty to Princess Elia. In each other, they found the strength to face the challenges that surrounded them.

In time, their friendship blossomed into something more profound. Their hearts recognized a shared yearning for a love that defied expectations and transcended the barriers of duty and station. They couldn't ignore the growing affection they felt for one another, but they knew the consequences of acting on their emotions could be dire, given the political intricacies of the realm.

Their love remained a secret, hidden from the prying eyes of court, and they cherished the stolen moments they spent together. But as the situation in the realm grew more perilous with the brewing rebellion, they were confronted with the stark reality that their paths might diverge.

When Robert's Rebellion erupted and the Targaryen dynasty faced its downfall, Brianna and Arthur found themselves on opposite sides of the conflict. Brianna's loyalty remained with Princess Elia and her family, while Arthur fought fiercely to protect his liege, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.

As the war raged on, their love was put to the ultimate test. Despite their differences, the bond they shared never wavered, and they clung to the hope that once the dust settled, they might find a way back to each other.

#ocappreciation #game of thrones #game of thrones oc #asoiaf #george rr martin #Brianna Stark #lyanna stark #prince rhaegar #rhaegar targaryen

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darkmaga-returns · 3 months ago

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Why did CNN feature a member of "shots heard" on as guest to fuel its attack on RFK Jr? Does it have anything to do with his threat to ban pharma ads on mass media?

Nov 23, 2024

The activity in the Shots Heard community has been rather muted since we exposed their pro-vax censorship activities to the world. In fact, the only thing they like to post about lately is Haterade for RFK Jr. We’ve heard rumblings that the prick pushers and big pharma schills were organizing attacks on the HHS Secretary nominee, and wondered how long it would take them to bear fruit.

Not very long at all apparently. A day or two ago an interview went out with Brianna Keilar on dying legacy propaganda network CNN featuring an anti-vaxxer turned jab jockey named Lydia Greene. Lydia was talking about how she had been tricked into being an anti-vaxxer by RFK Jr. and Briana lovingly listened with doe eyes.

We had to double check and sure enough, Lydia is a little more than a folksy mom speaking out. She’s a member of Shots Heard Round the World.

ShotsGate.com - banner Editor’s note: SHOTSGATE is a series of stories documenting the tactics and lawfare used against Americans who rebelled against the medical tyranny and money grab of the COVID wars. These documents and screen grabs were obtained from whistleblowers in various private online communities, often at great risk, in order to show the world what traditional news outlets refuse to cover.

I was going to write a few lines showing Lydia was part of shots heard and move on. Then we noticed that Josh Walkos, author and internet sleuth, had gone much much father down the rabbit hole on Lydia and struck gold.

Before we show the interesting connections Josh found about Lydia, the bigger question is why is CNN featuring someone with obvious links to dark pharma groups?

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cloudybrews · 5 months ago

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❝ last time i listened to you we almost died. ❞ (Brianna Wayne to your Bruce Banner or Female!Osborne?)

" Well " she said dryly .

"If you actually payed attention, we wouldn't be in this " her arms pointing to some what troubling place they were in .

#; here to watch the world burn #Muses: Norah Osborn #fc: Carla Gugino #timeguardians

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 1 year ago

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Young Justice rewrite: Season one

by Cryptidenthusiast420 Rewrite of Young Justice in a world where Marvel and DC Heroes coexist together. In this world Toni Stark and Brianna Wayne are a couple, the Iron Maiden and Batwoman of their world, with sons of their own. Female Tony Stark x Bruce Wayne Words: 2681, Chapters: 1/22, Language: English Series: Part 2 of Marvel x DC Fandoms: Young Justice - All Media Types, Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/F, F/M Characters: Tony Stark, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Steve Rogers, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Thor, Bruce Banner, Kid Flash, Black Canary, Red Tornado, Vision, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Peter Parker, Harley Keener Relationships: Tony Stark/Bruce Wayne, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Kon-El/M'gann, Wanda Maximoff/Original Male Characters Additional Tags: Female Bruce Wayne, Female Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Bruce Wayne, Omega Tony Stark, Beta Dick Grayson, Alpha Jason Todd, Alpha Tim Drake, Alpha Harley Keener, Omega Peter Parker, Alpha Howard Stark-Wayne via https://ift.tt/9CeNkVh

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

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mintharaestermont · 30 days ago

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a smile tugged at minthara's lips - not one of mockery or boldness, but something quieter. for all her sharp edges, she could appreciate sincerity when it was offered in earnest. "i'll take the compliment. you're kinder than most," she glanced at malee, a flicker of warmth in the indigo of her eyes. she'd been fortunate in her life to have met a lot of people who loved her, and who she loved back, friends that had shown her that things weren't as bad as she could often dramatise them to be, but there was still trepidation when speaking to someone new, and not knowing if they would show her kindness, or something else entirely.

her expression shifted a little, a shadow crossing over her face. "yeah, it's not so different in new valyria." her thoughts on marriage were complicated ones. it did not matter how much her mother assured her that plenty were content with a match born of politics and value, that she would make sure she would find minty a match that would respect her, she knew that she would never truly be happy with that life. her parents had loved one another, and she had idealised that, wanting nothing less for herself than the sort of adoration they had before her father had died. "i don't think i'd ever be able to be satisfied with anything other than devotion," she admitted. it was something she had said to the likes of brianna and ginny, but never to someone she had only just met."

minthara paused, leaning back in her seat slightly, as though she were trying to put some distance between herself and the weight of what they were speaking of. when she had been a girl, it had all seemed so simple, but minty was a woman now, and whatever it was, it was harder to navigate by the day, especially with the sort of grace malee seemed to embody. "and you," she added, her gaze steady. "i hope you get to decide, too. you've got way more patience than me, but that doesn't mean you should settle for less than what you deserve. i understand some battles ain't worth fighting - but if not this one, then what?"

she considered malee's description for a moment, the easy smile back on her face. "see! we don't ask for much, do we. i don't know why all these men seem to find it so hard to live up to." she was teasing, though she shook her head when malee dismissed it as a fairytale. "nah, nah. it's completely realistic. courage of a knight, mind of a scholar, soul of a poet. gotta exist somewhere, surely." she tilted her head, amusement glinting in her eyes. "i mean, i've never met anybody like that, but that's their problem, not ours, you know? but i don't know. maybe it's not about ticking all them boxes. maybe it's about finding someone who doesn't, but you still want to give it to them anyway."

she let herself look around the lists, taking in the banners awaiting their turn at the tilts. when she did extend her favour, it tended to be to men she knew, ones that she knew would not take it seriously, nor as a mockery. there were none of those men on the field today, and it had her brows furrowing in concentration, as though this, and this alone, was the most serious thing they had discussed since they took their seats. "that one," she pointed. it was a hedge knight, clearly new to this by the nervous way he sat on his horse, overlooked by his landed competitors. there was no ribbon on his arm, none of the ladies in the crowd seeing fit to give him their favour.

her mind was made up. minthara put her fingers in the corner of her mouth and whistled, repeatedly, until he finally looked over, her first two attempts ignored as the knight had obviously not expected it to be him whose attention she was trying to catch. he trotted over, apprehensively, and it were clear how young he was. "first time?" minthara called out to him, her tone surprisingly kind. she untied her ribbon and secured it upon his lance when he held it up, and it was clear from his face that it meant more to him that it would have done to anybody else on the field. "may the gods be with you, ser. ride well."

malee studied minthara for a moment, her gaze softening as she considered the words she wanted to say. the fire in the other woman's eyes, the conviction with which she spoke, was something malee had come to respect. there was strength in that, even if it was delivered without the fine art of diplomacy or the softness of a more reserved nature.

"i don’t think it’s arrogant at all," she said gently, her voice sincere. "in fact, i find it quite admirable. to hold onto your own sense of worth in a world that constantly tests it—that’s something not many can do with such confidence." she let the words linger for a moment before continuing, her eyes briefly flicking to the knights below. their displays of bravado and strength seemed so straightforward compared to the complexity of minthara’s perspective.

"in our world, however," malee added, her tone becoming slightly more reflective, "we don’t always have the luxury of deciding who is worthy of our time, our affection... or even our loyalty. especially when it comes to matters like marriage." her fingers curled around the hem of her gown thoughtfully. "i do hope, though, that when your time comes, you’ll have the choice. that you’ll be able to decide for yourself, without anyone else determining it for you. you deserve the choice."" she smiled softly at minthara, offering her a sense of quiet encouragement.

lips curved into a soft smile as she leaned back slightly, her gaze drifting over the knights below. the question minty posed had caused her to think long and hard, and she almost found herself laughing at the thoughts she was entertaining.

“well,” malee began, a playful glint in her eyes, “if i were to imagine the man worthy of such a ribbon... he’d be someone who carries himself with the strength and grace of a knight, but with the intelligence and gentleness of a scholar. someone who doesn’t feel the need to prove his worth through displays of power, but instead lets his actions speak for him. a man who’s humble enough to understand the value of kindness, but confident enough to take on any challenge for what he believes in.” she paused, catching her breath and shaking her head. “it sounds almost like a fairytale, doesn’t it?”

she chuckled softly at the thought, feeling a little embarrassed by the idealistic nature of her own description. it seemed almost too perfect, too unreachable.

"still," she added, her voice quieting slightly as she turned to minty, “i wonder if such a man exists in our world. perhaps you’ve met someone who fits that description?” she raised an eyebrow playfully, intrigued by minthara’s opinion. “and who would you give the ribbon to, if you had the chance?"

#✻ interaction ╱ malee westerling #don't match length i got musey x

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thedanasilvestri · 2 years ago

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rarealdcresults · 2 years ago

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SummerDanse, in Pittsburgh (May 22nd, 2005):

6 & Under Solo:

Madison Hohman - “Springtime” (Acrobatic) - 1st Place / Gold

6 & Under Lines:

“Parade” (Musical Theater) [Abigail Waldron, Sarah Restano, Kassidy Leon, Gianna Palmieri, Mikayla Lovas, Simone Jhan, Ionie Banner, Nadia Liberto, Greta Parr, Regan Check, Nicole Weaver, Avery M, Jakiya F, Alena, Angela Mammats, Victoria V, Tatum, Samantha, Paige Neid, Brianna, Emily Stoken & Emilee J] - Did Not Place / Silver

7-8 Solo:

Jessica Restano - “Mousetrap” (Acrobatic) - 1st Place / Gold

Emily Stoken - “Pajama Jamin” (Tap) - Did Not Place / Gold

Jordan Thomas - “Respect” (Jazz) - Did Not Place / Diva Award / Gold

Olivia Ice - “Little Egypt” (Jazz) - Did Not Place / Silver

Brooke Hyland - “Inchworm” (Acrobatic) - Did Not Place / Silver

7-8 Groups:

“Body Shop” (Jazz) [Jordan Thomas, Claudia Peterman, Mia, Brooke Hyland, Emily Stoken, Natalie Secola, Quinton, Gabrielle Kemp, Gabrielle Casarcia, Madison Hohman & Taylor Breen] - Did Not Place / Gold

“Hey Daddy” (?) [Jordan Thomas, Claudia Peterman, Brooke Hyland, Emily Stoken, Natalie Secola, Gabrielle Kemp, Gabrielle Casarcia, Madison Hohman & Taylor Breen] - Did Not Place / Gold

“At The Copa” (Jazz) [Olivia Ice, Jessica Restano, Ashley Galore, Alysha Matarazzo, Gina Gionta, Nicole Johnson, Essence Kimes, Brittany White, Jackie McKowski & Brandon Pent] - Did Not Place / Gold

“Wake Me Up” (Jazz) [Essence Kimes, Jessica Restano, Nicole Johnson, Gina Gionta, Brittany White, Olivia Ice, Jackie Mackownski, Ashley Galore, Alysha Matarazzo & Gina Chiapelle] - Did Not Place / Silver

9-10 Solo:

Izumi Presberry - “Bad Bad Leroy Brown” (Tap) - 1st Place

Mackenzie Meixner - “Superstition” (Jazz) - Did Not Place / Gold

Brandon Pent - “G.I Blues” (Hip Hop) - Did Not Place / Gold

Alexa Kacin - “Just A Spoonful Of Sugar” (Ballet) - Did Not Place / Gold

Nina Linhart - “Lila Tremaine” (Musical Theater) - Did Not Place / Gold

Stephanie Pittman - “Little Fairy” (Ballet) - Did Not Place / Gold

Brittany White - “Home” (Contemporary) - Did Not Place / Stage Presence Award / Gold

Alexis Rectenwald - “Public Enemy” (Jazz) - Did Not Place / Gold

Dominique Wright - “Ease On Down The Road” (Acrobatic) - Did Not Place / Gold

Alicia Gelifuss - “The Roof Is On Fire” (Acrobatic) - Did Not Place / Gold

Micha McGee - “In My Front Parlour” (Musical Theater) - Did Not Place / Gold

Cassidy Gusallus - “Ocean” (Acrobatic) - Did Not Place / Gold

9-10 Duet/Trio:

Natalee Bailey, Mackenzie Meixner & Alicia Gelifuss - “Three Way Stop” (Hip Hop) - Did Not Place / Gold

Josh Ice & Olivia Joy “Beat Me Daddy” (Tap) - Did Not Place / Silver

9-10 Group:

“Goodies” (Hip Hop) [Ebony Kimes, Dominique Wright, Alexis Rectenwald, Jesse Johnson, Brandon Pent & Izumi Presberry] - 1st Place / Gold

“All The Boys Around me” (Jazz) [Jessica Ice, Andrew, John Michael Fiumara, Izumi Presberry, Dante Wright, Brandon Pent, Quinton, Jesse Johnson & Josh Ice] - Did Not Place / Gold

9-10 Lines:

“Daisy Dukes” (Specialty) [Nina Linhart, Alexis Rectenwald, Mackenzie Meixner, Savanna Carrozzi, Natalee Bailey, Alexa Kacin, Cassidy Gullus, Micha McGee, Stephanie Pittman, Dominique Wright & Alicia Gelifuss] - 1st Place / Gold

“Tickle Me” (Jazz) [Brittany White, Jackie Mckowski, Nicole Johnson, Essence Kimes, Jessica Restano, Ashley Galore, Alysha Matarazzo, Gina Chiapelle, Gina Gionta, Olivia Ice, Micha McGee, Alexa Kacin, Alicia Gelifuss, Maria Gionta & Natalee Bailey] - Did Not Place / Gold

11-12 Solo:

Miranda Maleski - “Hernando’s Hideaway” (Acrobatic) - 1st Place / Gold

Natalee Bailey - “It’s Good To Be Back Home” (Musical Theater) - Did Not Place / Gold

Alex McGee - “Hostess With The Monsters” (Jazz) - Did Not Place / Gold

Jessica Ice - “Lady of 29 Palms” (Jazz) - Did Not Place / Gold

Brianne Smail - “Secondhand Rose” (Contemporary) - Did Not Place / Gold

Savanna Carrozzi - “I’ve Got A Penny” (Acrobatic) - Did Not Place / Gold

Erika Maruca - “The Raven” (Acrobatic) - Did Not Place / Gold

John Michael Fiumara - “Spider-Man” (Tap) - Did Not Place / Gold

11-12 Groups:

“Steppin’ To The Bad Side” (Jazz) [Mackenzie Meixner, Brianne Smail, Alexandra Salerno, Alexandra McGee, Kelly Monteleone, Erika Maruca, Alivia Shoop, Miranda Maleski, Hannah Opalko, Jessica Ice & Nina Linhart] - 1st Place / Gold

“The Door On The Floor” (?) [Erika Maruca, Nina Linhart, Alexandra Salerno, Hannah Opalko, Alexandra McGee, Savanna Carrozzi, Brianne Smail, Jessica Ice, Natalee Bailey, Brittany White & Mackenzie Meixner] - Did Not Place / Gold

11-12 Lines:

“Disco Inferno” (Jazz) [Alexandra, Rebecca Hudek, Brittany Pent, Janel Moriarty, Lisa Hulker, Erika Maruca, Alíe, Dominique Wright, John Michael Fiumara, Mackenzie Meixner, Olivia Joy, Ebony Kimes, Brianne Smail, Emily Stoken, Cassidy Gusallus, Donnaya Presberry, Alexandra Salerno, Stacey, Jesse Johnson & Jessica Manza] - Did Not Place / Gold

13-14 Solo:

Kaitlyn Reiser - “Once Upon A Time” (Lyrical) - 1st Place / Gold

Alexandra Salerno - “Rodeo” (Ballet) - Did Not Place / Gold

Cydney Miller - “No Good Deed” (Acrobatic) - Did Not Place - Gold

Kelly Monteleone - “Cool” (Hip Hop) - Did Not Place / Gold

Hannah Opalko - “Kiss Me In The Rain” (Acrobatic) - Did Not Place / Gold

Jessica Manza - “Preakness” (Tap) - Did Not Place / Gold

13-14 Groups:

“Hot Chocolate” (Tap) [Alexandra Salerno, Hannah Opalko, Kelly Monteleone, Brianne Smail, Jessica Manza, Melinda Jennings & Jessica Ice] - 1st Place / Gold

13-14 Lines:

“Giggles” (Jazz) [Gianna Martello, Jennine Wedge, Crystal Jennings, Kaitlyn Reiser, Miranda Maleski, Alivia Shoop, Theresa Moio, Emily Shoop, Leah Pivorotto, Nina Pivorotto, Amanda Stelluto, Romana Henson, Kristina Pendleton, Alexandra Opalko, Bethany Flora, Marissa Mechling, Alisha Boranoti, Kelly Monteleone, Cydney Miller, Cheri Davis, Loren DeMarco] - Did Not Place / Gold

“Ladders” (Contemporary) [Theresa Moio, Alisha Boranoti, Marissa Mechling, Loren DeMarco, Nina Pivorotto, Miranda Maleski, Hannah Opalko, Alexandra Opalko, Jessica Ice, Kelly Monteleone, Kaitlyn Reiser, Jennine Wedge, Emily Shoop, Gianna Martello, Amanda Stelluto, Leah Pivorotto, Alivia Shoop, Romana Henson, Kristina Pendleton, Cydney Miller, Bethany Flora & Crystal Jennings] - Did Not Place / Gold

15-16 Solo:

Alivia Shoop - “Oh Susannah” (Jazz) - 1st Place / Gold

Loren DeMarco - “Woman’s Work” (Lyrical) - Did Not Place / Beautiful Costume Award / Gold

Emily Shoop - “It’s A New Day” (Contemporary) - Did Not Place / Gold

Gianna Martello - “Look At Me” (Lyrical) - Did Not Place / Gold

Romana Henson - “Wild” (Contemporary) - Did Not Place / Gold

Alisha Bonaroti - “Like Ya Used To” (Jazz) - Did Not Place / Gold

15-16 Duet/Trio:

Jennine Wedge & Crystal Jennings - “In Her Shadow” (Contemporary) - 1st Place / Best Dynamic Award / Gold

Gianna Martello & Amanda Stelluto - “A Bottle Of Red” (Contemporary) - Did Not Place / Beautiful Technique Award / Gold

15-16 Groups:

“Sharp Dressed Men” (Tap) [Jennine Wedge, Amanda Stelluto, Gianna Martello, Crystal Jennings, Alisha Bonaroti, Leah Pivorotto & Nina Pivorotto] - 1st Place / Gold

“Cherries” (Musical Theater) [Kaitlyn Reiser, Gianna Martello, Jennine Wedge, Amanda Stelluto & Emily Shoop] - Did Not Place / Gold

17-19 Solo:

Jennine Wedge - “Gotta Move” (Jazz) - 1st Place

Marissa Pampena - “Take Off” (Musical Theater) - Did Not Place / Gold

Bethany Flora - “Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word” (Lyrical) - Did Not Place / Gold

Novice Division:

Teens - “I’m So Excited” (Jazz) [Katelyn, Samantha, Loren, Lyndsey Garret, Jennifer, Megan, Jessica Manza, Cydney, Kasey, Marissa Pampena, Danielle & Sydney] - 1st Place / Gold

Unknown Division Routines:

The Letting Go - Did Not Place / Gold

Irish - Did Not Place / Silver

#aldc #aldccompetitionresults #aldc2005 #aldccompetitionresults2005 #2005 #aldcresults

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