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vanderlindemangofarm · 4 years ago

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The Van der Linde Gang - Jobs in a Modern AU

I’ve been really inspired to write about this lately and I’d love to hear your takes! These are the occupations that I think each gang member would have in a modern AU. Some were more challenging than others, but hopefully you guys can see where I’m coming from with each!

Arthur: Film location scout. His natural eye for photography and framing makes Arthur the perfect member of a pre-production team. His no-bullshit approach to everything means he keeps to deadlines, although he’s known to go wandering off into the wilderness for unknown amounts of time. He enjoys the lone working side of his job and finding exactly the right spots that would make the film come to life. He doesn’t always like the films once they’re finished (in fact he’s often bought cinema tickets and walked out half way through, grumbling that it wasn’t worth the popcorn) but he can’t deny the excited buzz he gets every time he gets hired. In his early years as an assistant he met Bertie Mason, a nervous but talented photography intern. Despite an ill-advised hookup after a week joined at the hip they have remained close friends and still go out on shoots together.

John: landscape gardener. John? Flowers? Yes, alright, I found it hard to believe too. But look, it’s not about the flowers, even if he does get misty-eyed at the sight of a sunflower in the early morning light. It’s about the challenge, the outdoors, and solving problems. After all the renovations he did to his house and garden (some more successful than others) John found how much satisfaction he got from digging and reshaping and planting. Don’t get me wrong, he’s often without a shirt, even in the colder months, much to the delight of some and the horror of others. He always makes friends with the household pets and is wonderful with the kids, always dropping his task to throw a frisbee around for a bit or cheekily accept an ice cold glass of lemonade from their mothers. Whenever he drives past one of his projects he feels himself glowing with pride - “I did that!”.

Dutch: philosophy lecturer. As always, late with Starbucks. Will he actually grade your essay? Will it mysteriously disappear? Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it? Sitting precariously on the very edge of his desk, leather jacket hanging off his shoulders and losing his balance every 15 minutes, Dr Van der Linde is nothing short of a wonder. For the love of all that is holy, do not get him started on Kant. Kant has no place here. You want to talk about your precious Kant? Get your butt down to Dr O’Driscoll’s class, he has plenty to say about Kant. Perhaps a little too fond of Socrates. Plato who? Completely illegible handwriting and definitely sleeping with several members of the faculty. But somehow his students always walk away with excellent grades. At the end of each term Dutch takes everyone out to a local bar for drinks, insists on buying tequila which no one really fancies at 11am. Claims to ride a motorcycle called The Count which no one has actually seen. Impossible to hate, and he writes everyone great references for their summer internships.

Hosea: social worker. In a crisis, there’s no one better to knock on your door. Hosea has seen it all and he’ll see it all again, but that doesn’t stop him from treating every single case he gets with the upmost respect and care. His no-nonsense approach to his work means he gets things done, but he never sacrifices his compassion. He mostly works with teenagers and has a way of being able to connect to each individual without coming across as patronising. He’s been in the field for over two decades and is an invaluable mentor for any newcomers, always willing to share a word or two of advice or be a shoulder to cry on.

Javier: guitar teacher and music therapist. During his worst years, Javier’s guitar was his lifeline. And he wants to help others find their lifeline, too. He works on a freelance basis, mainly going into mental health hospitals, schools and prisons. He runs workshops focusing on guitar playing, but brings other instruments (mainly percussion) to try too. He’s a gentle teacher, always with a joke in his back pocket for when you need it most. He has nicknames for everyone and remembers everything they’ve ever told him. He’s patient and never lets anyone feel bad for making a mistake. Javier also runs an after-school guitar club at the local middle school alongside playing his own music at gigs whenever he can. No, he doesn’t reply to DMs no matter how thirsty they are.

Sadie: self-defense instructor. After surviving an attack several years ago, Sadie used her ferocity to get her qualification in self-defense to teach other women how to fight back should they need to. Her husband Jake helps out in her classes, happily allowing himself to be thrown around and slammed onto the mat as many times as required. Her students are terrified of her in the best and nicest way. Sadie also volunteers at a women’s refuge, providing emergency care and taking phone calls.

Charles: environmental campaign manager. Charles has always been drawn to charities and started doing voluntary work for Greenpeace when he was at university, securing an internship with them in Canada which led to a full time job. Whilst Charles mainly hosts meetings and organises events, he also works closely with elementary schools and runs workshops with outdoor activities, crafts and music. Last week they made bird feeders! It was awesome. He’s also a keen activist and regularly meets up with Javier to go to protests and community events, most recently for BLM.

Micah: motorcycle mechanic. Micah is massively invested in motorcycle culture and treats his beloved bike better than his own mother, if he still spoke to her. Although he pretends not to care, fixing bikes is his greatest passion and almost looks...happy when he’s doing it? Maybe? He likes knowing more than the people who stop by his shop and makes sure they know it. Occasionally he leaves his number on a scrap of paper inside women’s handbags when they’re not looking but for some reason none of them call. Like it or not, he’s incredibly skilled and will have your motorcycle singing a tune if that’s what you want. Euphemism? Of course not.

Abigail: nurse. She was so shy when she realised she wanted to pursue nursing - would people laugh at her? Was she too impatient, too nagging, too shrill? Her dyslexia always put her off going into further education and she was always discouraged by her parents. But with lots of encouragement from Hosea (who helped her to fill out her applications and other forms) and her friends, Abigail went to university in her 30′s to get her degree. She graduated top of her class and now works full time in her local hospital, based mostly in the emergency room. From drunken brawlers to tearful children and grumpy old men with lumbago, Abigail has learnt to keep her cool and to have faith in her own ability.

Molly: holistic therapist and masseuse. It took years to get that bastard of a philosopher out of her head (and out of her bed - damn those happy hour drinks “for old times’ sake”), but she’s finally free. Molly radiates a kindness that few took to the time to see, and she wanted to take strength from her past struggles to help others who may need someone to listen, just as she did. Molly took a bunch of online courses in various holistic therapies, including aromatherapy and massage, as this was something she had always been interested in. She runs a tiny clinic on a quiet street, the rooms filled with sunshine and the scent of geraniums. She also has a quite popular ASMR YouTube channel, Emerald Eyes ASMR, which she shyly admits just reached 500k subscribers. Her most popular video, ‘Irish Girl Helps You Fall Asleep (soft spoken, tapping, mouth sounds)’ just reached over a million hits.

Kieran: veterinarian specialising in equine care. Much like Abigail, Kieran didn’t like the idea of going back into education. He’d had a rough time of it as a teenager, dropping out of high school early and working a string of menial jobs for the next decade. They paid his rent, but he still felt poor. His favourite job, however, was working at a stable. The horses made him feel calm and he found that he could read them better than most people. He went to the library and read as much as he could about them. From there, he got himself an apprenticeship which paved the way for him to earn his degree in veterinary science. He smiled so hard in his graduation photo his eyes disappeared into his cheeks. He travels all over the local countryside, visiting farms and ranches to care for the horses. His confidence picked up after the first few blunders, and little by little he’s saving up to buy his own ranch one day.

Lenny: political science student. You know that kid who always looks amazing, even in 9am lectures? Yeah, that’s not Lenny, but he’s sat just behind. See him? Yep, the one rubbing sleep from his eyes as he pushes through the effects of another all-nighter. It’s not due to procrastination, but from perfectionism. He spends hour agonising over references, appendixes and even titles. One time he was so tired he signed his work “Ynnel”. He’s completely in love with his course and relishes every class he takes. Oh, he’s taking Dutch’s ‘History of Western Philosophy’ module by the way. Sitting in the front row, middle seat, directly in front of Dutch, his eyes glinting wickedly. Poor Dutch. Lenny has a counterpoint for absolutely everything and can barely stifle his laughter as Dutch gets more and more flustered. He’s been dating Jenny Kirk, an English Lit student, for the past few months and it’s going well. So well in fact, that he might stop hiding his Doctor Who merchandise every time she comes to his dorm room.

Tilly: business student. Tilly started university at the same time as Lenny and they still always go to the library together, rolling their eyes at each other over their morning peppermint lattes. Tilly is at the forefront of any and all on-campus activism. Think of Sam from Dear White People - that’s our Tilly. She wears her Ravenclaw scarf all autumn and winter long and posts scathing Instagram stories about the cafeteria food. But she’s powerfully kind and very ambitious, taking on a part time job tutoring kids with dyslexia in their reading and writing.

Susan: midwife. Think having a baby is scary? Try crossing Nurse Grimshaw. She’s here now, and that baby is coming out of you one way or another. She’ll hold your hand through thick and thin but if you dare say “I can’t do it” one more time she’ll unleash hell. Susan will make sure everyone has a job to do. Partner just standing there like a lemon? Not on her watch. She’s harsh but kind to her trainees and will always offer a cup of coffee and a shoulder to cry on, but there’s a time and place for slacking and it’s not on her labour ward.

Trelawny: talent agent. Our Josiah is cunning, infuriatingly charismatic and with an eye for the best of the best - what else could he do so effortlessly? He’ll wrangle you a 10 second role as a latrine cleaner in a non-profit film and he’ll still make you feel like the next DiCaprio. You’re a diamond, don’t you know? Of course you could nab Elphaba, we’ll worry about the singing later. How do you feel about cat food commercials? No no, it’s not pornography, it really is cat food this time - he double checked. On top of this, he knows everyone in the business. No, really. He can’t move 3 feet down Broadway without someone booming his name. The tone of said boom depends, of course, but who hasn’t been caught with his bottom out in that director’s wife’s en-suite?

Sean: outdoor activity centre instructor. You mean you can actually get paid to swim in lakes, ride ziplines through the forest and eat roasted marshmallows?! Sean couldn’t believe his ears. But it was true, and he’s living his best life. He may be on his penultimate warning for unruly behaviour, but he knows he could never really get fired. How could they? Everyone loves him. And to his credit, he’s a fantastic instructor, especially with kids. Everything from canoeing to caving, wild swimming to climbing, Sean has mastered it all and he always makes it fun. No one is allowed to feel left out or silly for not being able to do something. Sean has a way of making everyone feel included, even if you can only make it up the first few rungs of the ladder. Hey, that’s still off the ground! He once knew this feller Bill who cried because a moth flew into his face. You’re doing fine.

Mary-Beth: librarian and YA author. Sweet Mary-Beth, how could she be anywhere else but surrounded by books? She adores her job at her small, local library and is always looking for ways to make it even better. She often gets tangled up in the stories she reads whilst organising shelves, but it’s quiet enough most days that she’s rarely caught. She loves helping people find their books or recommending her favourites. She also runs the toddler storytime groups and a writing club for older kids. Of course, she’s also writing her own books. The first of her ‘Valentine Mysteries’ books made a modest profit and she’s excited to write more about the adventures of Leslie Dupont.

Karen: actress. Realising that she had a knack for accents and even after an especially successful high school lead role as Roxy Hart, Karen didn’t really acknowledge her would-be passion for acting for a long time. But she used her talents to get herself and her friends into X-rated films, dive bars and successfully pull off dozens of prank calls. It wasn’t until one of her friends was going to an open-call audition for a short film and wanted someone to go with her that Karen had her epithany. She was cast on the spot, much to the dismay of her friend. Since then, she’s been in a handful of arthouse films, a commercial here and there, and recently enjoyed a short run as Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at a small theatre downtown. Does she want fame and fortune? Honestly, she hasn’t really thought about it. Right now, she’s just enjoying the ride. And the phone numbers left for her at front of house from many admirers.

Strauss: financial loan adviser. Oh boy, perhaps you saw this one coming. Then again, maybe not. Old Leopold isn’t quite the two-pronged-tongued eldritch horror people often mistake him for. In fact, he actually advises people against loan sharks. He had his fair share of debts y’see and he genuinely doesn’t want anyone else to go through the same thing. He’s not exactly sweet and cuddly, but he might let you have a free pen if you call by his office. I mean, technically they’re not free but...never mind, just take it.

Bill: plumber. It was purely accidental that Bill bashed his way into his career. No, really. His sink was blocked and after an hour of poking and prodding the pipes he started hitting the poor thing with a spanner out of pure frustration, cursing all the way. To his shock, it worked, and he suddenly had running water again. What shocked him more is that he realised he wanted to know how. So, he bought a book. And he read the book. And one thing led to another, and now he’s the proud owner of Williamson Plumbing Inc. The money is very good, but for Bill that’s not it. You have to understand that for him, it’s the act itself of fixing something that brings Bill immense satisfaction. And Bill isn’t used to knowing more about something - anything - than those around him. For the first time perhaps in his life, he can sit down, solve a problem, and know that he’s done a good job.

Swanson: AA group leader. After getting completely sober almost a decade ago and staying that way, Orville wanted to give something back to the people who had helped him out so greatly. Becoming a volunteer to help those who were trapped where he was seemed like the only path, and it felt so right. Orville is there in meetings, making coffee, handing out donuts and training new volunteers. If anyone wants to talk about their faith he’s all ears, but he never pushes it as a cure-all in any situation. Orville’s sobriety has also meant that he’s learnt to make the most phenomenal mocktails.

Pearson: grocery shop manager and cooking teacher. Simon has his small grocery shop on the edge of town which has a wide range of regular customers. But he wanted to do more, so he set up a small class to teach fellow veterans how to cook. His wife helps out, and they grow the ingredients together in their garden and down at the allotment. It’s just an therapeutic for him as it is for his students, as he’s only just realising how much he wants to talk about his time in the navy.

Uncle: unknown. For the longest time, everyone thought Uncle worked at one of the worst dive bars in town, as whenever they stumbled in for a nightcap he was there, behind the bar, happy as a pig in shit. Turns out that he just started going there one night and no one could get him to leave. And so every evening he’ll appear like a phantom, sit himself in the half-broken chair behind the bar (clearly labelled “not for customer use”), order the cheapest beer on the menu and sit there until midnight. No one can understand how he gets the means to live as he ragingly denies receiving any government handouts despite his lumbago. Claims to be a veteran but hasn’t fought in any wars anyone has heard of.

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karmasuna · 4 years ago

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— 𝟭𝗮 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀!

+their genshin mains and ummm yea <3 [a/n: this isn’t even writing just a word dump what am i doing]

bakugo; used diluc as main out of pure spite because midoriya did too until kaminari pulled the klee banner on his account once as a joke and actually pulled her. now he will only use klee and likes the bombs a lot. most likely has an entire party of dps. does know know what healing is and somehow makes it through anyways.

midoriya; diluc. who doesn’t like diluc? he is so cool and a solid dps! his luck is probably average, maybe two five stars at rank 30 ish? os pretty good at using all the characters he has though, and can use pretty much anyone if he wants. probably has a very solid, well-rounded party.

shouto; qiqi. she is his only five star and he is perfectly content with that because she is ice and shouto likes ice. does not realize how lucky he was to get her at rank 25, probably has a lot of primogems stored up because he doesn’t feel the need to pull anymore. not exactly an expert in the game, but he likes cooking all the character dishes

uraraka; is broke but has insane luck, and probably has most of the five stars because of this. mains keqing because she likes to feel powerful (who doesn’t?) someone pls give mochi girl some mora

kirishima; xiangling when he plays solo because he thinks her ult skill is cool, but when he co-ops with bakugo he uses jean. gale blade to aim klee’s bombs and to heal bakugo when he goes apeshit. ultimate missile launcher duo!

kaminari; childe. is a pro gamer (or so he says), probably has like three copies of him from whaling, and is very good at utilizing bow and melee together. he can and will use his level 80 amber when he co-ops with bakugo though, just to mess with him. before childe his main was probably ningguang or beidou because he likes attractive onee-sans.

sero; lisa. sero is a japanese teenage boy and wears headphones while he explores. go figure. (also lisa is very powerful and her skill is flashy so that is of course, a bonus!) though when it actually comes to fighting he’ll probably use xiangling or fischl. he will absolutely mispronounce every single character’s name to piss bakugo off, and it just so happens to work every single time.

tokoyami; fischl. this is very very self-explanatory- he likes darkness. fischl is darkness. also has a dark shadow companion. his classmates are very impressed by the fact that tokoyami can entirely understand what she says without difficulty.

iida; does not play. though on the rare occasion he is forced to during class game nights he chooses kaeya, but he doesn’t exactly know the difference between anyone. very unfortunate :(

momo; ningguang! the unsung epic 4* that is actually a missile launcher if you know how to use her. probably also has other 5*s but mains her anyways for her sheer versatility.

jirou; only plays very occasionally and rarely does any solo exploring/ uses barbara mainly because she pulled a 5* catalyst and uraraka needed a healer at the time. barbara’s music notes are an added bonus too! sometimes she’ll use beidou too since she happened to have five debate clubs and a beidou. most of her preferences are purely based on what she randomly pulls.

mina; fischl! She’s not super invested into the game but does play quite a bit. thinks chongyun and his popsicle are very cool and that all the girls in the game are very cute! loves them all equally. is 100% more interested in the actual plot of the game more than the actual gameplay.

#bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #bnha #mha imagines #mha headcanons

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readingaccountability · 4 years ago

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snow crash - neal stephenson

my playlist (because of The Way That I Am)

final thoughts:

okay, im going to be honest right out of the gate- i cant decide whether this is a book id recommend or not. it was really fun for the most part, but personally there was a lot more exposition than id like. the early portions of the novel have exposition which feels completely fair, mostly things relating to worldbuilding. stephenson creates his own vision of future america, and some places online referred to it as cyberpunk, and some as post-cyberpunk. id be more in the latter camp, mostly due to the way he plays with tropes, leaving the reader unsure of which will be subverted and which wont.

the use of language was really fun, and i enjoyed the worldbuilding a lot. his vision of a futuristic capitalistic earth feels surreal in its immediacy and recognizability. the back jacket blurb ends with "a future america so bizarre, so outrageous, you'll recognize it immediately." which, yeah. a texan info-tech magnate? two competing corporations owning the highway system? suburban city-states? this was another enjoyable thing- everything was colorfully named, and names treated totally normally, which kind of poked fun at how we have everyday things named very ludicrously and for the most part we are totally blind to it.

one aspect i really enjoyed was that the author often doesn't make certain things clear to the audience, until he does, and then it becomes necessary to reassess the entire story and setting. this goes to underscore the theme of the importance of information and the ways we take it in and perceive the world based upon it. for example, we don't learn that y.t. is fifteen until maybe 75 pages in, at which point a lot makes sense in retrospect. the same thing occurs in the worldbuilding, as suddenly a detail is given in passing and the reader must incorporate it into the setting, which by default we assume to be similar in many ways to our idea of america. it keeps the reader on their toes as well as furthering the worldbuilding. for the most part, the tech stuff didnt feel outdated to me, despite being a future projected out from '92.

however, aspects of the book are definitely very 1992. id put these into two camps: the first, being that the book does at different times use slurs. the main character is black and asian, the n word is used a few times by racist side-character/antagonist types, as are a few other racial slurs. there was also the occasional usage of the r slur, within the narrative prose itself, rather than usage as an insult within dialogue.

the protagonist, who is named, unfortunately, hiro protagonist, is a great character and felt very fleshed out to me, though at times he reminded me more of dirk strider than normally would be ideal. (its obvious that stephenson and andrew hussie are of a similar type of writer, and play with similar tropes, lmao.) hiro is a man of many worlds. he seems to shift between them easily, though never fully existing in any of them. this is reflected in his background, both in his biracial identity and in having been raised on a myriad of army bases. this is layered further in his fluidity in interacting with both reality and the metaverse, yet remaining slightly, consistently aloof. fascinatingly the first moment i sensed this drop was when we meet juanita- aka where his real and meta realities coincide. the description of them as the adam and eve of the metaverse is both insanely romantic and thematically key (good god i wish we had more than like, two conversations between them). juanita designed the facial component to metaverse avatars, doing the majority of this work when the two were together, and hiro can see echoes of both their facial tics in the face of every avatar in the metaverse. in a way, by having done this work juanita is positioned by the narrative as one of the gods of this digital realm. she is also hiro's call to action, being aware of the coming trouble and alerting him to it, as well as connecting him to the informational database he needs to prepare.

y.t., the secondary protagonist, fucking ruled. i loved that she was just a fifteen year old punkass kid whose mom doesnt know how crazy this part time job is. y.t. being worried about her mom was a great thread throughout, and a really good balance to how obviously independent y.t. is. i do wish there had been a chance to explain more about her background (she has a dad who left who is mentioned in a throwaway sentence, and a boyfriend who is mentioned near the beginning but never again.) i really enjoyed how obviously hyperaware y.t. was at all times about her own place within the insanities of the setting, while also consistently writing her as a teen maybe in way too deep who thinks about things in typically teenage ways. but like, that wasn't ever held against her? the narrative meets her where she is. it was honestly awesome. HOWEVER,

i absolutely hated the raven and y.t. scenes. how creepy!!! he basically statutory rapes her!!! we know hes at least late 20s early 30s, because hes the same age as hiro. if this sort of content is upsetting to read for you, i definitely do NOT recommend this book. (if you want to avoid reading these bits: ch 47 y.t. meets raven, ch 50 they are in a bar eating, ch 52 things happen that result in y.t.'s anti-assault device activating- she did not activate it on purpose, but forgot it was there- and raven is knocked out.)

please PLEASE dont take any of the following analysis as like, trying to be apologetic towards this scenes. because again they were awful and hard to get through and really gross. but im also cognizant that the author was obviously trying to convey something by making the choice, like the way it was written is obviously not condoning this sort of thing.

i think maybe what stephenson was trying to get at with that, was that we see hiro internally negate any potential for anything untoward with y.t. basically immediately, since he kind of senses that she might have a small crush on him (though this doesnt last more than a fleeting moment, especially from her perspective). vs raven, whose 'poor impulse control' warning tattoo eventually elicits a sarcastic remark from hiro after he finds out raven and y.t. were "a thing". i really dont think hiro knew how far it went? like it was just suuuper weird, but i figured it was meant narratively to 1. execute the chekovs gun of y.t.'s anti-assault device, 2. contrast hiro and raven (especially considering the bike-racing argument where theyre telling the story together, which is supposed to parallel them, while contrasting the differences in how they ended up?), and 3. just to get raven unconscious, i guess. but good god it was weird and i hated every second of it, why couldnt the device have like, activated way earlier?? gah. fucking upsetting. moving past that!

honestly i was really frustrated by how little screentime juanita got, because the way she was introduced was so fucking interesting and then shes mostly off doing her own thing. the bits of explanation she gives at the end about what she was up to on the raft are so sparse and im like damn, can we get a little bit of her pov in here? please? that would have ruled. additionally, shes supposed to be hiros love interest, but we see so little of them interacting outside her intro scenes. a huge portion of why hiro is getting into the sumerian mythology is literally framed as something that will help him understand juanita, but we dont get to see him talk to her about it barely at all.

the supporting characters were quite fun, i particularly liked the librarian. big surprise, i liked the overly literal ai information-dispensor, lmfao. watching him and hiro interact reminded me SO hard of geordi laforge having honest to god conversations with the computer where he tries to coax information out of it, aka one of my favorite little aspects of tng.

and lastly, the major plot themes themselves. i adore the way stephenson approached action, it was very entertaining. usually i cant really visualize action scenes written out, but his use of language was really really effective and engaging. the plot itself was absolutely fascinating, though i found the premise pretty contrived. which isnt bad in itself, i was fully suspending my disbelief until the last hundred pages or so. which for a 550+ page book, isnt too bad.

i did like the approach of linking the ancient to the modern, that is always really neat. and i think ultimately stephenson did it in an interesting way, not how i would have done it, but definitely interesting! creating these ideas about information infrastructures, and there being words that can access those and be used to control people, was wild. not sure if i agree about the equating of religion to a virus, though he did specifically establish that it was more the approach to religion, than religion itself. (maybe if juanita had been more goddamn present in the narrative that could have been elaborated on a little more. literally her perspective would have been perfect in balancing that out!!)

ultimately what did me in was the very very very long winded MONOLOGUE where hiro re-explained the whole premise, in ways that didnt really neatly organize into a cohesive argument. a lot of the scenes where hiro talks to the librarian, which are interspersed throughout the book, are really exposition heavy, because stephenson is rooting his ideas in historical concepts that need to be explained to both hiro and the audience. and i thought all that was fine, because it was a conversation where hiro was grappling with the information, and he was figuring it out along with the reader, and most importantly it was a conversation between him and the librarian computer program.

howeverrr later on we get a full rehash of all that, where hiro makes clear some stuff that was just implied for the reader, and hes literally just telling these important men whats up in this big long monologue. utterly worthless. i kept reading it and going YEAH, we KNOW, we know this we know this. and the important men barely interjected. it added basically nothing to our understanding of the situation, other than reframing it. but everything added was already an implicit thing, and didnt really need to be said again.

the resolution to the book was stellar, the last 30-40 pages, once hiro is onto the raft, were great. ultimately after reading and giving some time to digest it, i think it was a solidly great book with a few big drawbacks near the end, but which dont carry through and sully the ending.

#bookblr #book tag #snow crash #neal stephenson #reading progress update #book review #cyberpunk #post-cyberpunk #god this is long #kind of ended up being book report esque... elementary school vibes. i fucking love it ngl #original post #playlist series

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wordsfromafangirl · 4 years ago

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@cookiedoughmeagain

Saw this post.

Answered some of the questions.

Long post warning. Spoilers too for those who haven't seen the show or want to. Bare with. I did mostly answer Nathan and Duke oriented questions and there's no way I can answer those without shipper goggles on, sorry. Also, I think Haven left a lot of holes for the audience to fill in about the town. Don't know if that was intentional, but I often found myself wound up in subtext, things that could happen off screen with just those one lines, like you brought up about hijinx and illegal things Nathan might've done but we never see or really hear about.

For many of the questions concerning Vince and Dave, I just kind of assumed that half the time they were the old guys of Haven who kept its secrets and so anything they did was always suspect. They covered up the truth. They basically tried to keep their involvement a secret (all the time). Look at Vince and how he was the apparent leader of the Guard to keep troubles in check and help those (with mostly volatile and uncontrollable troubles) in need, but the Guard looked like that oppressive middle ground where they sometimes play both sides with or without Vince in charge…? Personally, Vince and Dave would be the sus people of the town. They know everything and sure when they are giving me my Haven newspaper everything seems peachy, but how far could you delude a town until it starts asking questions or rather everything implodes, and everyone just knows? Not an inner circle of people, the whole town knows now either because they were newly given a trouble or because they finally caught on that Haven was not a “normal” town. Vince and Dave are the gossipers and busy bodies but kept (dare I say) hypocritical secrets of their own? (<And this could answer the very last question about why they'd write an article if they knew, but memories were wonky that day except for knowing they found "The Colorado Kid" dead...?)

Now onto the questions that really got me curious:

5. What was Evi doing working with the Rev? Was she genuinely simply trying to help Duke, or was she working an angle? Did she know about the Troubles? What did she think the Rev’s motivation was? What were her final words (“If you don’t tell him, I will.”) about?

Honestly, this intrigued me, but I assumed Evi had to know. Didn’t she also mention something about Duke being powerful? I do not know, it has been a while since I watched it, but she had to know about the troubles. The Rev must have filled her in that Duke is a vital part of the plan but as my mind goes back to 2x09; in order to sway Duke, they could not allow Nathan to oversee anything. Nathan would stand in Duke’s way because it is someone who can convince him otherwise. Someone who would see the use of Duke’s trouble as “wrong” and uncontrollable and always try to stop him. Of course, we know there is more emotional ties between the boys that would make Duke stop and think about abusing his trouble. Or not even at this point because in 2x09 Nathan has no qualms about locking Duke up even if that meant they would (as they did) shoot Evi. Nathan could not stand the thought of Duke being injured?? I am digressing from the point, because you mention, “if you don’t tell him, I will” and that must mean she knew about the trouble(s)? She knew what Duke could be capable of, but they had to get Nathan out of the way? Literally, the Rev wanted to attempt assassinating Audrey and mostly Nathan because…that is the one person who would be in Duke’s way…in the guise of the Rev’s prejudiced mind when dealing with people who had troubles…then in the end look who Duke ends up siding with? "Just so you know I'm the lion."

6. On one of the commentaries there is talk of how Duke and Nathan got up to “hijinks” together as teenagers. WHAT WERE THE HIJINKS?

Many of their HIJINKS were probably pranks, you know. Duke would mostly prank Nathan of course and then occasionally Nathan finds himself wrapped up in one against other people. Or they are the kids riding around on their bikes (like the IT gang) and just causing a ruckus? They could be in a group. Yet I think sometimes Nathan and Duke ventured off alone…

I think if you consider off screen hijinks as teenagers it is probably why Duke acts so snubbed towards Nathan all the time. If you think about it, Duke lost a friend who would be the “bad boy” with him. Nathan turned into stuffy, stick up his butt Nathan either A. because of his trouble or B. because he had to follow in Garland’s footsteps and be a cop. It reminds me of Harmony right there at the beginning of the show, episode 3? Nathan is lying about everything, according to Duke and so he is being a Pinocchio like usual; not a real boy, which is also in reference to “his condition” of feeling no pain/nothing. And it is probably because Nathan was a “bad boy” and the only one who keeps that information in confidence is Duke. Nathan wants to keep it that way. Duke never really tells anyone anything and truthfully, he just likes fucking with “law-abiding” Nathan. Duke of course misses those times when they were teenagers just messing about and getting heckled by Garland, but maybe once or twice getting cuffs slapped on them only to be let go an hour later? Sooner or later, Duke would see that shift. Nathan would start becoming interested in law enforcement and Duke seeks a path towards smuggling/criminal activity. Duke is the only one being arrested by the time they are 17-30 and sometimes it is by Nathan (small head canon: Duke does it on purpose. He is an attention seeker and hell if he does not like Nathan putting him in handcuffs). Then suddenly Duke has up and vanished for a little while (guessing from 30 to 35ish? Or some time frame shorter). Nathan would lie about missing him, but because his trouble was activated how does Nathan really know? He just knows, but never admits it, hence the whole love/hate game we get between them when Duke does come back.

24. In Harmony Duke says something to Nathan about “does she know the things you’ve done?” - implying that when they were younger Nathan did something illegal and/or possibly immoral that Duke knows about (because he was also involved?) but most people (or at least, Audrey) don’t. WHAT THINGS?

Primarily? IT’S LOOKING THE OTHER WAY WHEN DUKE DOES SOMETHING ILLEGAL. It is essentially just being there as a participant while Duke breaks and enters? Or being there while Duke is smuggling something because I venture to think that business started early on for Duke. 18ish and onward? It is giving Duke a pass once, twice, three times and more. Nathan cannot be mad at Duke. Then there is maybe those few times is it was Nathan picking the lock. It was Nathan doing something illegal and Duke of course did not care. He would look the other way or help him along. This is something that would always stay between Nathan and Duke, which is why I think the relationship is so rocky. Duke is holding secrets that could jeopardize Nathan’s “law abiding” reputation and he never once tells a soul, right? This is a testament to loyalty and how neither of them hates each other. Of course, for me, from space they can be seen as exes. The on and off type of relationship because Duke’s smuggling business got in the way or as I think of it, Nathan got so tired of Duke being sort of unchanging that he would break it off and then suddenly he had run back to Duke, hop on the boat and beg to be taken back. Duke would chuckle and take him back. Was this secret? Or did the whole town see it? Most likely people knew, even Garland. Not so sure Simon approved, but somehow while their relationship was fucked up and Simon ends up dying, I don't think Duke necessarily sought his approval on anything? Truthfully, his feelings for Nathan were his business alone and Nathan mostly felt the same way so who cares?

26. What’s Duke’s side of the story about the fishing trip when Nathan’s Trouble got triggered?

Duke knows he fucked up.He used Nathan as a distraction while some illegal procedures were happening underneath his nose. Nathan thinks oh well maybe I still have a friend, because they’re probably in the middle of their: “Oh, seriously, Duke. Put your hands behind your back.” “Oh, come on Nathan, can you just this once not.” Too late. Nathan grabs his wrists and puts his hands behind his back. Duke feels the familiarity of handcuffs and smirks his whole to Nathan’s Bronco. Ironically.

If I track it right Nathan’s trouble was triggered on this fishing trip before Duke left Haven right? So therefore, this was probably to make amends? It might have been that good old let us just actually hang out as friends (or more…because my brain goes there) but it turns out I need you as my cover while shady shit goes on in town. Nathan finds out. They fight. It triggers the trouble. And presumably Duke feels so guilty and thus he decides to leave. Or he had already decided and did not know how to tell Nathan on the fishing trip, but part of leaving and getting out of dodge meant also doing some smuggling for parts, money etc.

35. Wouldn’t Nathan have recognised Duke in The Colorado Kid photo? (Especially given that he would very probably have seen the photo when he was a kid?) And wouldn’t he have told Audrey that from the beginning?

Everyone’s memory was effed up right? So perhaps Nathan did not remember? Though, you are right. Nathan would have recognized him. Would he have told Audrey? Not so sure, because Nathan would be in that battle inside his head. How far can I trust Audrey? I immediately liked her. Duke does too. That should mean she is great. But Duke is kinda sorta my friend…my ugh whatever, tell him or do not tell him? Imagine Nathan knowing about the photo before Duke reveals to Audrey that it is him…and so Nathan is sitting in his house waiting for coffee to cool off and contemplating…I could tell Audrey. It is crucial information, and I don’t know why Duke isn’t saying anything? Is there a reason? Should I talk to him first? Then at one point he just gives up and lets Audrey continue playing detective in hopes Duke would just fess up. For me, Nathan is in a constant battle of loyalty when it comes to Duke and Audrey, but when he realizes that Duke cares just as much about Audrey...(okay, we're not talking about threegulls and the relationship that is the three of them...)

23. Were there ever any female Crockers? If there were, would they have had the same curse?

Hey! There is a female Crocker isn’t there? Or does she since she cannot even be near Dad at all, inherit the trouble of the dock worker only? Whose name slips my mind. But I venture to think that Duke’s blood would overcome that, but the baby had life draining powers because that was the trouble of the dock worker. Baby after baby only to suck the life out of the father like some metaphorical siren.

Personally, I always think that if the babies survive and we know she did, then I think by the time she’s a teen all life draining powers would just go away [because I assume that’s the curse, never being able to keep the baby but the baby doesn’t get the full curse; however what about duke’s trouble [at this point is his trouble is inactive like a volcano, but can it still be passed on? Volcanoes sit there and stew so the genetic thing of the trouble must still be there…isn't it implicated that families still have the trouble but can go on without it being activated?]…anyway, Duke’s blood is taking over and she finally realizes something funky is going on so she searches out her father because Nathan made sure to tell the adoption services that any parents who fosters or even adopts her down the road they should tell her that her real father is out there and he did not, would not just abandon a baby (even if it happened in real time and not some sped up sci-fi version).

Basically, in any version (in my head) of the Crocker bloodline, Duke is probably the first to have a girl and yes she'd get the same trouble, because imagine a badass woman who looks like Duke manage the Crocker trouble (the eye thing). It seems to me though that it was bloodlines/legacy that stuck with men because apparently boys were it in the Crocker family. And many other families seemed that way too. Some troubles seemed bound by legacy born from the men and carried on, etc. I like to think that Duke subverted all that shit. And funny enough, his trouble went away at one point, but I think if there were ever any female Crockers? If there were, would they have had the same curse? If there were that baby girl could have still had it. Meaning his fate could have been different if they played an angle of that daughter coming back into the story. Someone else who had Duke’s trouble and then of course, it would turn into a reason for Duke to live (still bitter because I’m being biased as to who is my favorite in the Haven world). Imagine juxtaposition story lines of Dwight and Duke fighting… Duke: “She’s my daughter!” Dwight: “Well, that’s my daughter too!” Then they would both just take a deep breath and realize they are fighting on the same side.

Okay, so I am blowing smoke with an answer to this question but really, I see it and go, damn, I wish we could have seen more of Duke being fatherly. I mean we got the pirate episode of him taking care of that young girl who could manipulate your will, but honestly, Duke raising a kid…

Much of this may not be an answer at all. It's head canon really, because often with Haven I felt like I had to fill in experiences of the characters. Mostly did so with Nathan and Duke, individually and then together. However, there's something about this show, because questions always pop up even when you revisit it. Like wait a minute? What? Was this intentional? How in the world did this happen? Sure, we'll just accept some things even if it's strangely abnormal to the plot, but after all it's Haven.

#haven syfy #duke crocker #audrey parker #nathan wuornos #long post

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knifeonmars · 4 years ago

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Capsule Reviews, February 2021

Here's some things I've been reading.

The Curse of Brimstone

DC's New Age of Heroes books, emerging from the beginning of Scott Snyder's creative-flameout-as-crossover-event Metal, mostly constituted riffs on Marvel heroes like the Fantastic Four (in The Terrifics) or the Hulk (in Damage). The Curse of Brimstone is a riff on Ghost Rider. It's... uneven. The first volume is generally pretty good, and when Phillip Tan is drawing it, as he does the first three and a half issues, it's gorgeous and unique, when he departs though, the quality takes a nose dive. None of the replacement artists, including the great Denis Cowan, can quite fill his shoes, and the story gets old fast. Guy makes a deal with the devil (or rather, a devil-like inhabitant of the "Dark Multiverse" as a not horribly handled tie-in to the conceits of Metal), realizes it's a raw deal, and rebels. The characters are flat, lots of time is spent with the main character's sister haranguing him to not use his powers (it is, in my humble opinion, something of a cardinal sin to have a character whose primary role is telling other characters to stop doing interesting things), too many potboiler "I know you're still in there!/I can feel this power consuming me!" exchanges, a couple of underwhelming guest spots (including a genuinely pointless appearance by the old, white, boring Doctor Fate) too many flashbacks, and not enough of the action. There's potential in the classic demonic hero rebelling plotline and its link to the liminal spaces of the DC universe, forgotten towns and economic depression, but the wheels come off this series pretty much as soon as Tan leaves. The really disappointing this is that the series is clearly built as an artistic showcase, so after Tan's shockingly early departure, the main appeal of the series is gone and there's nothing left but the playing out of an obviously threadbare story.

Star Wars - Boba Fett: Death, Lies, and Treachery

I don't care much about Star Wars these days, and I think that most of the old Expanded Universe was, as evidenced by Crimson Empire, pretty bad. Death, Lies, and Treachery, is that rare Star Wars EU comic which is actually good. John Wagner writes and he's in full-on 2000 AD mode, writing Boba Fett as a slightly more unpleasant Johnny Alpha (who is like a mercenary Judge Dredd, for those unfamiliar) right on down to the appearance of a funny alien sidekick for one of the characters. The main attraction is Cam Kennedy's art though, along with his inimitable colors: this might be the best looking Star Wars comic ever. The designs are all weird and chunky, with an almost kitbashed feeling that captures the lived in aesthetic of classic Star Wars, and the colors are one of a kind. Natural, neutral white light does not exist in this comic, everything is always bathed at all times in lurid greens or yellows, occasionally reds, and it looks incredible. In terms of "Expanded Universe" material for Star Wars, this hits the sweet spot of looking and feeling of a piece, but exploring the edges of the concept with a unique voice. It's great. I read this digitally, but I'd consider it a must-buy in print if I ever get the chance at a deal.

Zaroff

Zaroff is a French comic (novel? novella?). It's like 90 pages and it delivers exactly on its premise of "Die Hard starring the bad guy from The Most Dangerous Game." It's pretty good. Count Zaroff, he of the habitual hunting of humans, turns out to have killed a mafia don at some point, and after miraculously escaping his own seeming death at the end of the original story, finds himself hunted by the irate associates of this gangster, who have brought along Zaroff's sister and her kids to spice things up. Zaroff not only finds himself the hunt, but he also has to protect his estranged family as they struggle to survive. Nothing about this book or its twists and turns is likely to surprise you, but I don't think being surprised is always necessary for quality. Zaroff delivers on pulpy, early-20th century jungle action, is gorgeously rendered, and the fact that Zaroff himself is an unrepentant villain adds just enough of an unexpected element to the proceedings and character dynamics that it doesn't feel rote. There's a couple of points, ones typical of Eurocomics, which spark a slight sour note, such as some "period appropriate" racism and flashes of the male gaze, but for the most part these are relatively contained. It's good.

Batman: Gothic

Long before Grant Morrison did their Bat-epic, they wrote Batman: Gothic, an entirely different, but then again maybe not so different, kind of thing. It starts off with what must be called a riff on Fritz Lang's film, M, only where that story ends with a crew of gangsters deciding they cannot pass moral judgment on a deranged child-murderer, in Morrison's story they go ahead and kill him, only for the killer to return years later to rather horribly murder all of them as a warmup for a grandiose scheme involving unleashing a weaponized form of the bubonic plague on Gotham City as an offering to Satan. Along the way it turns out that said villain, one Mr. Whisper, is a former schoolmaster of Bruce Wayne's, who terrified the young Batman in the days before his parent's deaths. It's an earlier Morrison story and it shows. Certain elements presage their later Batman work; Mr. Whisper as a satanic enemy recalls the later Doctor Hurt, and the cathedral Mr. Whisper built to harvest souls recalls what writers like Morrison, Milligan, and Snyder would do concerning Gotham as a whole years later.The art, by Klaus Janson, is spectacular. If you're familiar at all with his work collaborating with Frank Miller you'll see him continuing in a similar vein and it's all quite good, even when he stretches beyond the street milieu which most readers might know him from. There's one particular sequence where Janson renders a needlessly complicated Rube Goldberg machine in motion that manages to work despite being static images. The writing by Morrison though, is not their finest. The M riff doesn't last as long as it could, and Mr. Whisper's turn in the latter half of the story from delicious creepy wraith to a cackling mass murderer who puts Batman in an easily escaped death trap feels like something of a letdown from the promise of the first half of the book. Gothic is good, but not, in my opinion, great. It's certainly worth checking out for Morrison fans however, and I imagine that someone well-versed in his latter Batman stuff might be able to find some real resonance between the two.

Green Arrow: The Longbow Hunters

For a long, long time, Longbow Hunters was THE Green Arrow story. It is to Green Arrow as TDKR is to Batman, deliberately so. Mike Grell wrote and drew the reinvention of the character from his role as the Justice League's resident limousine liberal to a gritty urban vigilante operating in Seattle over the course of these three issues, which he'd follow up with a subsequent ongoing. Going back to it, it certainly merits its reputation, but its far from timeless. Grell's art is unimpeachable absolutely incredible, with great splashes and spreads, subtle colors, and really great figure work. The narrative is almost so 80's it hurts though, revolving around West Coast serial killers, cocaine, the CIA and the Iran-Contra scandal, and the Yakuza, and it's hard to look back at some of this stuff without smirking. The story begins with a teenager strung out on tainted coke sprinting through a window in a scene that's right out of Reefer Madness. In the cold light of a day 30+ years later, parts of it look more than a little silly. The 80's-ness of it all doesn't stop with that stuff though, even the superhero elements smack of it. Green Arrow realizes that he's lost a step and has be to be shown a way forward by an Asian woman skilled in the martial arts (recalling Vic Sage's reinvention in the pages of The Question), and Black Canary gets captured and torture off-panel for the sake of showing that this is real crime now, not the superhero silliness they've dealt with before. The treatment of Black Canary here is pretty markedly heinous, it's a classic fridging and Grell's claims that he didn't intentionally imply sexual assault in his depiction of her torture is probably true, but still feels more than a little weak considering how he chose to render it.The final analysis is that this book is good, but it exists strictly in the frame of the 1980's. If you're a fan of Green Arrow, there are worse books to pick up, or if you're interested in that era of DC Comics it's more than worth it, but as a matter of general interest I wouldn't recommend it very highly.

SHIELD by Steranko

Jim Steranko is sort of the prodigy of the early Marvel years, a young guy who came up through the system, blossomed into an incredible talent, and then left the company, and by and large the industry, behind. He would go on to dabble in publishing, work in other mediums, and generally kick around as the prodigal son of Marvel Comics. This collection, of both his Nick Fury shorts in the pages of Strange Tales and the four issues he drew of the original Nick Fury solo series, charts Steranko's growth as an artist. The book starts off with Steranko working from Jack Kirby's layouts with Stan Lee's dialogue and writing, and Steranko might be the one guy in history for whom working off of Kirby's blueprints is clearly holding him back. The first third or so of this collection really isn't much to write home about, as Steranko is obviously constrained by someone else's style, and at the end of the day those early stories still read as somewhat uninspired pulp compared to the highlights of early Marvel. There are flashes though, of techniques and ideas, which foreshadow what Steranko is capable of, and when he finally takes over as solo writer/artist it's like he's been unleashed. He immediately has Nick Fury tear off his shirt and start throwing guys around over psychedelic effects. He writes out most of Kirby and Lee's frankly uninspired boys' club supporting cast, he makes Fury visibly older, wearier, but also so much cooler. It's the birth of Nick Fury as a distinctly comic book super spy.By the time he finishes wrapping up the previous writers' plotline with Hydra and Baron von Strucker, Steranko is firing on all cylinders. By the time it gets to Steranko's Fury solo series, he's somehow surpassed himself, turning in effects, panel structures, and weird stories which make the earlier installment about a suit-wearing Man from UNCLE knockoff and its strict six-panel layouts look absolutely fossilized.I can't recommend this collection highly enough for any fan of the artform, even if the stories themselves might not be everyone's cup of tear. It's truly incredible to watch Steranko emerge as an artist over the course of this single collection. The book itself has a few problems, it's not the most elegantly designed in its supporting materials and index, but the content of it more than outweighs that. It's great stuff.

#capsule reviews #comics

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freckledmountain · 5 years ago

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But I can try for your heart

By @freckledmountain for @kirbywritesstuff

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man)

Summary:

“Tony becomes Peter´s guardian.

It doesn´t go as badly as Tony thought it would.”

Anthony Edward Stark´s life had looked at words like normal, nice, easy and said “how about no”.

For as long as he could remember, there´d always been something. Terrorists, kidnappers, giant worm alien things, gods, life seemed to throw in anything and everything in it, and he was left reeling every time. Domestic life? Heck if he knew her.

…and then existence did a 180 again, and gave him the one thing he´d thought he´d never have.

Someone to take care of.

He´d liked the kid, right from the start, but getting attached to him was definitely not an option for him at first. Tony swore Peter literally had cartoony stars in his eyes whenever he looked at him, as if Tony deserved even a tenth of that adoration.

He didn´t want to be there when the kid realized how much of a failure his idol really was, didn´t want to imagine the inevitable moment that brightness would leave his eyes forever.

But it just showed how he didn´t really know who Peter Parker was back then, or rather, how darn stubborn he could be. A few months later and he was running around rescuing the kid from every possible mishap, desperately trying to keep him safe, ready to do just about anything to make him smile.

He grew on him, scaled the 30 foot long walls around his heart with his endearingly dumb t-shirt puns, his incandescent enthusiasm for technology, his 3 am rants about how fluffy some cat he´d seen was, his willingness to go out there and do his damn best to help anyone who needed it. Because when life threw dirt at Peter he stared back and smiled, and grew kinder for it.

Maybe Tony´s universe wasn´t just some practical joke, waiting to see what would trip him up next. He was terrified of breaking Peter, but after a brief period of trying to drive him away he realized the kid would just keep coming back, worming his way gently but firmly into Tony´s life without even meaning to.

And honestly? After dozens of frantic calls to Cho as he held an unconscious Peter in his arms, lazy saturday mornings spent laughing his head off as the kid tried to flip pancakes as high as he could (he ended up getting a little too enthusiastic but no one noticed the half cooked pancake stuck to the ceiling for three days anyway so-), he realized all his doubts could go screw themselves, because no matter how badly Tony messed up, that light in Peter´s eyes hadn´t left once.

Peter was just bright, and sweet, and kind and yeah, maybe Iron Man had a soft spot now, but he wouldn´t change it for the world.

Peter was worth every night spent worrying about him, every Star Wars marathon, every “borrowed” hoodie that never quite made it back to his closet, because the kid was good, and every time he smiled he made Tony want to make the world into something good too.

Life was way more nerve-wracking when you cared for a smaller human, but he couldn´t help but think maybe it wasn´t all that bad either. Peter would always be worth it.

And then on a day like any other May Parker´s heart failed her, and without a single warning, both of them were hurled straight into the impossible.

Grief was…

blurry.

It made everything around you fade into spots of either red hot pain or complete numbness, and whichever one it was, you couldn´t escape it some days. He would know.

Peter dealt with it a hell of a lot better than Tony himself had done when he was 21, but he could still see himself there, mad and lost and so achingly confused, filled with screaming questions no one could possibly give answers to.

Peter cried. He went out as Spiderman, returning later and later, screaming at Tony when he tried to get him to stay. He didn´t know what to do anymore, didn´t know how to get to him.

May´d loved her nephew above all things. If there was one thing Tony was absolutely certain of in this new swirling world of legal papers and sobs masked with yelling and mixed feelings, it was that from now on, he´d have to do the same.

He´d been sitting in that plastic chair for four hours, barely moving, when someone came barreling in.

He stood up quickly, knowing immediately who it was, trying to make enough sense of the half-finished speech at the tip of his tongue to say it out loud. “May.I´m-“

“Don´t.”

That shut him up.

Firm footsteps resonated on the tiled floor as she came up closer to him. He expected her to scream at him like she´d done all those months before when she´d found out about Spiderman, only now he´d gladly accept any other feeling that wasn´t the crippling guilt currently eating his insides. He´d fucked up, and Peter´d paid the price for it. He deserved every fragment of the storm coming his way.

Instead, May Parker stared at him for a long second, and the next she had her arms around him in a fierce hug.

“Thank you.”

Any coherent thought trying to find its way into his mind promptly disappeared after those two words. May spoke gently, but her stance was firm as she held him.

“You got to him in time. You saved him, and as soon as he gets better we´re going to go in and he´s going to see us and I´ll tell him off and it´s all going to be fine. Okay?”

“I didn´t-“

“You saved him. You did. I saw you running inside that building to get him, on the news. I know together you´ve got a guilt complex the size of Canada but Peter is going to be fine and what he needs right now is people who love him to be close, so we can save the misplaced sorry´s for when my nephew´s out of surgery, yeah?”

She pulled back slightly, and he could see his own fear mirrored in her eyes, but there was trust there too. And love. Love gentle enough to be all-encompassing. And for once, his guilt wasn´t enough to overpower how much he cared for the kid.

He loved Peter too.

“How-how ‘do you even do this? How do you deal with wanting to protect him from everything, how do you just not- implode or something-?” He was a mess, but May just smiled through misty eyes and hugged him again.

“You learn. Welcome to parenthood with a teenager, where half of you wants to see him succeed and go further than you thought possible and then the other half thinks keeping him cooped up at home with fifty blankets and a gallon of ice cream is the best idea since ever”

Tony managed a short laugh at that. “But something tells me you´ll get the hang of it, Tony. Something tells me you´re going to love him no matter what, and that´s already the most important part done”

Those words came back to him whenever he felt he was doing more harm than good by deciding to adopt Peter.

It was a whole different level of delicate now, and his attempts at being a normal parent didn´t always end well, but Peter´s fierce hugs reminded him a little of someone else´s, and he held on to the hope everything could work itself out as long as they kept trying.

Time runs strangely.

It can never quite mend the pain completely, but given it´s gentle enough, time can help.

The weird thing though, is how you can’t pinpoint the exact moment feeling okay doesn’t seem foreign to you anymore.

Maybe it starts when he takes the kid to school again and finds the note he packed in his lunch hung in Peter’s room a few days later.

Maybe it’s when he wakes up and realizes Peter slept through the night without a nightmare for the first time in weeks.

Or when he makes a particularly bad pun as he’s helping him with calculus homework and the kid laughs so much the tears running down his face don´t make him feel terrible for once.

…it could possibly be when Peter’s so sleep deprived one night he whispers a gentle “I love you” before drifting off, effectively making Tony blub like a baby once he´s sure the kid´s asleep.

And yes, there’re still bad days with screaming, and there’re still moments where he feels like the least capable human on earth for this job, but he just won’t give up, on either of them.

He vowed to try, didn´t he?

It´s been 8 months since he took Peter in, and things he´d have never imagined doing are quickly becoming commonplace now. Packing lunches, helping with English essays, occasionally dragging his butt halfway across the city to save his kid from yet another weirdo in a tacky suit, not to toot his own horn, but he thinks he´s definitely getting the hang of it all now.

So it should all be chill when he finds out he´s going to attend the parent-teacher conference at Midtown in a few months, but oh look at that, he’s panicking.

As much as he tried sheltering Peter from it at first, word that Tony Stark had been seen with a teenager soon got round, and within a day every reporter in New York seemed just about ready to trade an arm and a leg for some more dirt on Ironman.

Fun.

Pepper´d dealt with the brunt of it, so it wasn´t as if the world didn´t know about Peter by now, but the thought of waltzing directly into the school when every pair of eyes would be fixed on both of them didn´t exactly make him want to skip in joy, see.

Then again, Peter was the smartest freaking kid in the whole school, and the thought of teasing him lightly in front of his teachers was…yeah, okay, he was pretty sure he could work something out.

———————————————————————————

It was a beautiful Friday morning, they only had a few more teachers to go, and Tony was so glad he´d rescheduled three work meetings earlier this week to be here, because it was freaking glorious.

Peter was blushing bright red from all the compliments his teacher´s had told him all day. They were only allowed about 10 minutes to talk with each one, lots of kids and all that, but everyone had something positive to say about him.

Most teachers did a pretty good job of not letting a vein pop out of their forehead when they shook hands with Tony, but others seemed to have mini freak outs until they focused on Peter and regained their composure. He wasn´t at all surprised when they showed him Peter´s perfect grades, but God, he was proud.

He knew all the credit in raising Peter to be the wonder he was belonged to May and Ben, but he darn almost melted when Peter beamed at him as Mr. Del showed him a perfect test score in advanced chemistry for an exam he´d helped Peter study for a few months prior. Maybe he actually wasn´t screwing up at this parenting thing.

He knew the teachers were anxious when he asked questions (hey, he had no idea what a parent-teacher conference was like 3 months ago, he did his research), but they softened slightly whenever they turned to look at Peter.

He got it; the kid was pretty hard not to love.

Mr. Del was sitting across from them now, the man visibly nervous at being in front of Tony Stark, but smiling genuinely all the same as he talked about Peter´s work in class.

“There´ve been a few late assignments here and there, but nothing major in terms of academic development. I feel sleeping earlier could be a good idea though” Peter smiled sheepishly, probably remembering all the times Ned´ had to poke him awake in class after patrol got a little too long. Tony made a mental note to check up on it.

“His essay on analytical chemistry in an applicable field was particularly impressive” Mr. Harrington took out a thick cream folder, flipping through it until he came across Peter´s, “I showed it to some of my colleagues and it´s got some real potential. If you give some more thought to it, Peter, this could really make a difference.”

Peter´s ears were positively beetroot by now and he stuttered out a thank you, smiling. Tony felt about three seconds away from exploding with pride, but he just grinned at Peter, knocking their shoulders together gently. This, this right here was nice.

Peter´d worked hard for this, spending uncountable nights staying up late finishing projects or homework, studying for hours before an exam, still muttering formulas sleepily as Tony carried him up to bed.

He might be Tony Stark´s adopted son (months of it and the word still made his heart go full on Speedy Gonzales when he thought about it, but in a nice way, in the best way), but he had no doubt in his mind Peter´s grades had definitely been earned by him fairly.

And later, when they´re having a celebratory pizza night/movie marathon, when he´s surrounded by a blanket fort and a kid that definitely does not have the right to make him feel as mushy as he does, he thinks back to when something like this seemed impossible, and smiles.

Life´s unexpected, alright.

Somehow, he thinks he loves it this way anyway.

(many virtual hugs to all of you!)

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

It´s also on my ao3

#the friendly neighborhood exchange #posting day!#I know this is short but I promised I tried #i hope you like it

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losingmymindtonight · 5 years ago

Text

Whump: Hostage

AN: Y’all I mean it when I say that this one is long. It’s over 11k. So, if you’d rather read it on the AO3, I’m linking it right here.

Just a little housekeeping before we proceed! This is set post-Endgame, but with a few tweaks to pieces that I didn’t like, because this is fanfiction and I can do that. For one, Tony’s alive. Steve did not go back to Peggy. Bruce is not... that weird Hulk/Bruce thing.

This is technically a continuation of my last bingo square, which was AU: TV/Movie! You don’t need to have read that for this to make sense, but it would definitely help! If you haven’t read that other fic, just know that May died sometime after Endgame and Tony adopted Peter.

There’s a little ‘bonus scene’ at the end of this, from Natasha’s POV. It’s my version of an end credit scene, I guess. If I’m being honest, I don’t even know why it’s there, but it is.

This boy is long, and some parts are edited a lot better than others. Did I mention that this thing is 11k yet? Because it is, and I think I’ve gone insane.

EDIT: I’m a dumbass and I forgot to mention that this one is based off of a West Wing episode, just like the last square. If you’re a West Wing fan and it feels familiar, that’s why!

WARNINGS: kidnapping, mentions of date-rape drugs (but no sexual assault, just a brief mention near the end, and not in reference to something that actually occurred), non-consensual drug use, a couple mentions of alcohol, lots and lots of ruminations on a missing persons case, discussions of death (I don’t think there’s anything too graphic, but it’s there).

“Suma cum laude from Columbia. Columbia, Rhodey. Did you know that their acceptance rate is 5.1%? That’s the second most selective college in the Ivy League.”

Rhodey didn’t look nearly as impressed as Tony thought was appropriate. He just took a sip from his whiskey, tone dripping with sarcasm. “So you’ve told me.”

“That’s more selective than MIT.” He gestured with his own glass, although his was filled with some of Morgan’s apple juice. “Their acceptance rate is 7.9%. That’s a 2.8% difference.”

“Yes, Tones. I, too, am capable of basic math. Even though I did graduate from MIT, which is obviously the inferior institution here.”

He glared. “Yeah, well, did you know that Peter graduated on a 4.0 GPA? You know how hard it is to graduate on a 4.0 GPA at an Ivy League school?”

“I don’t know. Probably about as hard as graduating on a 4.0 GPA at MIT. Which I did, by the way.”

“Are you ever gonna let that one go? I’m the visionary of a generation, but I got one B in an English class and my best friend does a mutiny.”

“Yeah, well, your son managed to make an A in English.”

“He did, didn’t he?” He grinned, still drunk on the memory of Peter in his cap and gown, leaning down so that Morgan could adjust the tassel. “I think he made a 99 in that course, too. He’s smarter than you and me, Rhodey. I’ve been telling you that for years.”

Rhodey held up a hand, stalling him. “I’m sorry, you remember the exact number?”

“Of course he remembers the number, Rhodey,” Pepper sighed, slumping down at Tony’s side with a glass of wine in her hand. “He used to pin the screenshots from Canvas up in his office.”

Used to? He thought, a little incredulous. He still had them there.

“Listen,” he griped, “there are worse crimes than a father being proud of his child. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Sure,” Rhodey said, not even trying to conceal his amusement. “By the way, I thought that his security detail did a good job of blending in today. If I didn’t personally know all of them, I wouldn’t’ve suspected a thing.”

Tony snorted. “Let me tell you something: when it’s your kid, you don’t want them to blend in. You want them carrying a sign that says, I’m carrying a loaded gun and the safety’s off.” He swirled a finger around the rim of his glass. “But, yeah. I think Peter even managed to forget about them for most of it, which was the goal.”

“His speech was lovely as well,” Pepper interjected. “Very polished. He’s grown up a lot.”

A dagger of nostalgia pierced through him. “Oh, don’t remind me. I swear that I was coaching him through his first awkward date just a couple of days ago. What the hell is he doing going off to California all alone? It’s ridiculous.”

Rhodey snorted. “Sorry, I don’t get it. Are you proud of him or are you trying to lock him in the house and never let him out? I’m just trying to make sure that we’re all on the same page here.”

A chime from Rhodey’s phone interrupted the conversation. The man glanced down at the screen, expression darkening at whatever it was that he found there, and then quickly excused himself.

Tony didn’t really think anything of it. Rhodey got a lot of calls and texts that weren’t pleasant. It came with the territory of being such a high-ranking Colonel in the military. Nobody on Earth would call that a relaxing job. Plus, he still flew the occasional mission as War Machine. Not every superhero was quite as ready to leap into retirement as Tony had been.

Minutes trickled past with Rhodey out of the room, and Tony and Pepper found themselves constantly circling back to their favorite topic: their kids. They (well, it was mostly him, but Pep joined in occasionally) reminisced and complained, in the pride-struck kind of way, about the bittersweet upheaval that the upcoming months would bring to their lives. It was nice. It was quiet. It was a taste of the peace that he’d fought for through all those years as Iron Man.

Isn't that the mission? Isn't that why we fight? So we can end the fight? So we get to go home?

He’d ended the fight, and the endgame had been so much better than he could’ve ever imagined. When he’d said that to Steve, he hadn’t even had a home. His home had been the Avengers, even if he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself. But after Thanos, after hanging up the armor and looking into a future, a real future, he’d built a home. He’d built a home out of a dozen scattered bricks: the scarred shambles of his and Pepper’s baggage-laden love affair, a pregnancy test that was never meant to be positive, and a frightened, orphaned teenager with nowhere left to go. He’d taken those foundations, and he’d built and built and built until they were sheltered. Until they were home.

The pain of letting Peter leave, of releasing his grip and watching him run off to California to be his own person, to build his own home, his own life, was such a new, privileged kind of pain. It hurt, but in a gentle way. In the way that good things sometimes ached in the beginning, before they settled into a normalcy.

Tony had just decided that he’d be happy to live through a hundred moments of Peter graduating college (just so long as he could feel this proud with each repetition) when Rhodey surged back into the room, chest heaving.

He knew, somehow. He knew from the moment he saw the look on his best friend’s face. He knew even before Happy, who was not supposed to be here, who was supposed to be with Peter at some graduation party in the city, came barreling in at his heels. He knew.

Maybe it was a father’s intuition, maybe it was just paranoia, but he knew, and that knowing was the absolute worst thing in the world.

Everything froze.

“Rhodey?” He set his glass down on the coffee table, half-rose from the couch, wanting to ask but desperately not wanting to hear the answer that came after the asking. “What’s-”

“Tony, it’s Peter.”

The world had broken into color and chaos. The drinks had been cleared away, the coffee table in the living room swiped clean. Pepper was in the kitchen, babbling on the phone to about a dozen different people at SI, trying to organize whatever and whoever she could. The team was on their way: the new and the old. He’d spoken to Steve for a stunted 30 seconds, had pulled himself out of his adrenaline just long enough to process his promise of I’ll be there in an hour before hitting End Call.

He was sitting on the floor, now, back pressed against the couch, clutching the TV remote in his left hand for no reason other than to be holding something.

“Is Morgan still in her room?” He whispered, because that was… that was all he had left. God, he couldn’t live without one of them, how would he possibly survive losing them both?

“Yeah, Tony.” Happy seemed hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how much information he was meant to be revealing. “Pepper checked on her. We’re letting her sleep.”

“Okay. Okay.” He closed his eyes. Tried to steady himself on a home-grown foundation that had just lost one of its most vital supports. “Okay. Tell me everything.”

Rhodey knelt beside him, hand heavy on his shoulder. “Tony, are you sure that you shouldn’t-

“Yes, I’m sure,” he snarled, although he wasn’t really sure what he was sure about. He wanted his child back? Yeah… Yeah. He was sure about that. He was sure about regretting the fact that he’d ever let Peter leave his sight. “Now, will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Happy sighed, pushing the coffee table out of the way and joining Rhodey on his knees in front of him. It was funny, in a horrible, morbid, stomach-twisting sort of way. Three of the most high-powered men in the country were kneeling on the floor, falling to pieces because a single kid was missing.

“He was with his friends, at a club,” Happy started slowly. “We had two of his guards in there with him, blending in and keeping their distance, and a group of six more stationed on the outside. He got up to go to the bathroom. One of the guards followed, the other stuck by his friends so they could have eyes on him when he came back. We don’t really know what the hell happened after that. As far as the guards saw, he never came out of the bathroom. One of them went in after about ten minutes, checked all the stalls. His phone was on the floor, but he wasn’t there, so they raised the alarm. We scanned the perimeter, and found skid marks and one of the external guards down by the kitchen’s loading area-”

Tony hated panic, hated situations that threw him in the deep end like this. He wasn’t used to being slow, to being one step behind everyone else, but that’s exactly what this was. He was handicapped, stuck in molasses because this was his child. There was nothing… There was no way that the word efficiency could slot into the haze settling over him.

“What, uh,” he shook his head, trying to clear it, to knock his thoughts into something orderly and complete, “what do you mean, one of the guards was down?”

“They’re dead, Tony,” Happy breathed, and even though his own turmoil, Tony could see the pain on the man’s face. “Whoever took Peter shot them in the head. By the time we got to the scene, there was nothing we could do.”

Peter’s never going to forgive himself for that.

He didn’t even have the presence of mind to feel guilt over the fact that his only concern was for Peter. The guard… he’d feel bad about that later. He’d compartmentalize it, because it was selfish and horrible and very unheroic, but nobody mattered more than Peter. Nobody mattered more than his kid.

“Why… Why didn’t he hit his panic button?”

“That’s the question.” Happy scrubbed a hand down the front of his face. Every inch of him looked tired, like he’d been running on empty for weeks and weeks and weeks, except it hadn’t been weeks. It had only been a few hours since Peter had been taken, only a few minutes since Tony had been told, but it felt like… it felt like decades. “We found it out in the alley, a few feet away from where we think the getaway car must’ve been parked. He never pushed it.”

“He didn’t push it?”

“No.”

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Sure, Peter could be a brat about security sometimes, but he did use the resources he was given. He’d hit the panic button multiple times before. Why didn’t he do it now? Why?

He shook his head again, swallowed hard past the lump growing in his throat. “So… So he knew them. He must’ve.”

“Or… Tony, you know I don’t wanna be the person to break this to you, but he was drunk. He’d already had about half a bottle of champagne and a few shots by the time he was taken. One of the guards said he was stumbling when he got up to go to the bathroom, and his friends told us that he seemed pretty wasted.”

That shouldn’t have mattered. Peter was… he was 22, for god’s sake. He’d just graduated valedictorian from Columbia. The kid was allowed to drink some champagne, to get a little-

“Wait, no.” He ran a few numbers through his head, cold and ice and dread sprouting up in his lungs as they refused to compute. “That… he was stumbling?”

“Yeah. That’s what one of his detail said, at least.”

“No, that… that doesn’t make sense, Hap. He… He shouldn’t’ve been that out of it already. His… His metabolism. It’d take more than some champagne and a few shots to get him that drunk. He’d need… He’d need something else.”

Realization snapped over Happy’s face, and he lunged to his feet, kicked the leg of the coffee table irritably when it got in his way. “Fuck. Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? They drugged him. They must’ve.”

Rhodey rubbed Tony’s shoulder, his calm presence the only anchor in wave after wave of helplessness, failure, fear. “Then they were inside the club. Or they had someone helping them.”

Happy was nodding restlessly, already working furiously on his phone. “I’m gonna call the guys on the scene, tell them to detain the bartender and anybody else who might’ve had access to the kid’s drink. And I’ll have someone get his glass and that bottle of champagne for testing.”

“You go,” Rhodey said, slipping forward to settle down at Tony’s side. “I’ll stay here. Hold down the fort.”

“Got it.”

Happy was rushing for the door. Tony could still hear Pepper talking in the kitchen. The team must’ve been most of the way to the cabin by now, scrambling over themselves because this was… it was all too much. Too awful to comprehend. Tony’s brain couldn’t process it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Peter just… wasn’t going to come home. Wasn’t going to walk through the front door, a little tipsy and a little unbalanced but fine. Safe and loved and present. Ready to fly off to California at the end of the summer and leave a very, very proud Tony behind.

“Happy?” He called out, voice rough. The man went stock-still in the doorway, just barely turning to let him know that he had his attention. “Call me as soon as you know anything? Even if… Even if it’s bad. Just… please. Call me.”

That’s my baby, he thought, chest constricting at the bone-crushing loss of it all, if he’s dead… if he’s… if he’s never coming home, then I need to know. I need to know.

“I will, Tony. I promise.”

The Avengers blew into the cabin like a choreographed hurricane.

Tony had rarely had a chance to admire their efficiency from afar. He was usually on the outskirts of the disasters, working alongside them. But now he was the disaster. He was ground zero.

Rhodey brief them on what they knew so far, and the living room was quickly transformed from a haven of fireplace and colorful throws and family movie nights into a control room. The only thing that wasn’t touched was the couch Tony was leaning against. He didn’t even realize that it was because of him until Steve sat down on the carpet, brow furrowed in concern as he set a cautious hand on his knee.

“Tony, I want you to let Bruce examine you.”

He scoffed at the suggestion, bitterness rolling over him so suddenly that he felt swamped by it.

“And I want my child back,” he snarled. “Guess tonight’s just gonna be full of disappointments for all of us, huh?”

“Tony.”

“Don’t even start with me, Rogers.” He didn’t know why he was being so cruel to Steve. The man didn’t deserve it. He was just… the closest target. The easiest thing to despise. “I’m just not in the mood.”

“Tones,” Rhodey whispered, dropping down pacifyingly between him and Steve, “listen to me. You know that your heart’s weaker after the Snap. If I’m hauling your ass to a hospital, I’m not looking for your kid. We’ve gotta prioritize, here.”

Even in this state, Tony was clever enough to know when he was being manipulated.

Luckily for Rhodey, he was just too goddamn tired to care.

“Fine,” he growled. “What the fuck ever. Just do it.”

Rhodey was right, unfortunately. He didn’t have time for a heart attack right now, didn’t have time for his body to be anything but functional. After they brought Peter home, well… then it didn’t really matter anymore.

He blinked up at the ceiling, ignoring Bruce as he tugged out his arm, clipped something onto his finger.

Bring him home, he prayed, although to who, he didn’t really know, please, just bring him home to me.

Apparently, his blood pressure was high.

Everyone seemed pretty damn concerned about it, which was just… honestly, it was hilarious.

Did they think it wouldn’t be high? His child was off god-knows-where with god-knows-who, probably drugged and confused and afraid and desperately in need of his father, and Tony was supposed to be calming down for the sake of his blood pressure?

His blood pressure could go screw itself, for all he cared.

Of course, nobody else seemed to share his viewpoint. They all fussed over him. Pepper tried to get him to do some bullshit breathing exercises, while Bruce called Cho and bickered with her about medication and preventative measures.

He really didn’t know how to explain to everyone that there was only one cure, and it was his child, safe in his arms.

Until that happened, there wasn’t a drug or a pill or a yoga technique in the world that could save him.

Happy burst into the room without any ceremony.

“I’ve got the results from Peter’s drinks.”

Tony staggered upright, shoving Clint’s hands away as the man tried to steady him. He felt breakable, like a single touch might send cracks down his spine, into his bones and down through the ground. Like one wrong move might split him apart.

“And?”

Happy winced. Physically winced, like the words he was about to say weighed a thousand tons. “They found gamma hydroxy butyrate, more commonly known as-”

“GHB,” Tony finished, and he was surprised by how numb he felt at the news. It should’ve terrified him. At the very least, he should’ve felt something. Instead, he just stared at it clinically, chemical formulas and sterile facts filling his head in place of the things he just couldn’t think about. The things he didn’t want to face. “It’s degreasing solvent mixed with drain cleaner.”

God. Drain cleaner. Someone… Someone had given his kid drain cleaner.

“Exactly,” Happy said, voice small and unsure. “And in low doses-”

“In low doses,” he breathed, “it’s a date-rape drug.”

Pain streaked across his old bodyguard’s face: a cocktail of guilt and terror and shame. “Yeah, Tony. It’s… It’s a date-rape drug.”

He swallowed. “That’s, uh, that’s why he was stumbling. Why he didn’t hit the panic button.”

Happy nodded. “Yeah. From the looks of the doses, it was probably meant to knock him out, but with his metabolism…”

Tony finished the sentence in his head. With his metabolism, it probably just made him feel awful, sick, confused. He probably wondered what the hell was happening to him. He probably wanted me.

“He was awake when they took him,” Tony whispered, nauseous. God, he was awake when they took him.

“That’s our best guess. And, uh, Tony…. Listen, I don’t really know if I should be telling you this, but-”

“Tell me,” he ordered, voice somehow sharp and resigned all at once. He… He had to hear it. He had to hear everything. It didn’t matter if it gave him nightmares for the rest of his life, didn’t matter if it was the worst thing he’d ever heard.

It was the only link to Peter that he had.

Happy was silent for a few seconds, then let out a defeated breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Peter’s phone. Tony knew it was his because of the case: pink and green and godawful to look at. The kid had only bought it because Morgan had liked it so much.

“We’ve gotten all we can from this, so I thought I’d give it back.” He handed it over, and Tony slid his fingers over the case, borderline reverent. He could still imagine it in Peter’s hands, or charging on his bedside table, or getting tossed onto the couch in favor of playing a boardgame with Morgan. Tiny, insignificant snippets of life, and yet they mattered so much. They’d mattered so much. “We think he was using it when they grabbed him.”

He tilted the phone to the light, watched his reflection warp in the glass screen. “What was he doing?”

“He was texting you.”

Something icy gripped his chest. When he finally managed to force words up his throat, his voice came out hoarse.

“What’d he say?”

Happy just gestured at the phone, expression pinched. “Bathroom didn’t have any service, so none of them sent, but it’s all still there. We didn’t delete anything. D’you know his passcode?”

“Yeah,” he said. Peter just doesn’t think that I do.

“Okay. Well, I’m… I’m gonna get back to work. I’ll come back if we find anything.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to read it, Tony.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Alright.”

He heard rather than saw Happy move away, just barely caught him murmuring, “don’t let him spiral,” to Rhodey before he left.

Sure enough, Rhodey was right beside him within a few seconds, voice lowered in a guise of privacy, despite the fact that the room was still packed with Avengers, all pretending not to watch but definitely watching.

“Tony, it’s late,” he whispered. “Don’t do this now. Get some rest, and you can face it in the morning, if you really have to.”

“No,” he said, more forceful than he’d intended, but then again, Rhodey just didn’t understand. He was holding his child’s last words in his hands. How could he not read them? What kind of father would he be if he didn’t? “No. I need to do this now.”

He left the living room before anyone could stop him.

Happy’s car was already gone by the time he got to the front porch. He briefly considered settling down in one of the rocking chairs, or the porch swing, but every one of them carried a dozen memories of Peter, of summer days and fall nights and laughter and warmth and the kid’s head pressing heavy on his shoulder and he just couldn’t. He couldn’t face them.

He sat on the floor, back pressed up against the cabin, knees drawn to his chest.

He unlocked Peter’s phone. The brightness was up, but it automatically adjusted after a second or two. He opened the messages app, clicked his contact icon, and read.

hey tony? i thimk i fucked up (ERROR: not delivered)

i feel super super gross (ERROR: not delivered)

:( (ERROR: not delivered)

plz dont be mad i didnt mean to grt thsi drunk (ERROR: not delivered)

ugh fuck batgroom service (ERROR: not delivered)

i just kinda wish u were here to yell at me rn (ERROR: not delivered)

The front porch was nice at sunrise.

He’d spent so many hours out here, with Morgan and Peter. Both of them tended to be up early: Morgan because she was a child, Peter because he carried things that no child ever should. He’d sit with them, curled up under one of the afghans Pepper liked to buy from pop-up markets, and watch the sky become an oil painting.

That’d be a pretty smoothie, Morgan would say, pointing at the horizon, and Peter would laugh like she was the funniest thing in the world.

And what would it taste like, Mo?

Like a smoothie!

He heard the door swing open to his left, and while he knew it wasn’t Peter, a tiny part of him wanted to keeping pretending.

“Tones?”

Rhodey. Right. Of course it was Rhodey. Who else would come out here this early, ready to pick his ass up off the floor?

“Did you find anything?” He rasped, still staring out at the lake, watching the daylight step into the clouds, wishing he was watching Peter instead.

“Not yet.”

He just barely inclined his head in response. The answer should’ve hurt him, should’ve stung or panged or something, but it didn’t. After a while, pain just become pain. There wasn’t a scale anymore, wasn’t any room for additions or levels. There was just pain. Pain, and a family missing child. That’s all Tony had.

“I need you to tell me something,” he whispered, then swallowed. His throat scratched, dry and hot, “and I need you to be honest with me when you answer.”

Rhodey sat down beside him, leg braces glowing gently in the yellow-red dawn. “I can do that,” he responded, solemn.

“Do you… Do you think he’s already dead?”

Rhodey’s answer came immediately. “No.”

“Are you lying?”

“If I thought he was dead, I’d tell you.”

“Do you promise?” He balled up a fist, resisted to urge to slam it through the nearest object. “If you… If we reach a point where you think he’s dead, do you promise to tell me?”

He knew he was asking a lot. He could tell, because Rhodey’s breath caught, and he paused. Considered.

“Yeah, Tony,” Rhodey murmured, with all the enthusiasm of someone bartering away their soul. “I promise.”

“Good.” It wasn’t, but it felt like the right thing to say. “This is… This is bad, Rhodey.”

“Yeah, Tony, I know.”

He dropped his head into his hands, strained and exhausting and defeated. Peter was all it took, and Iron Man was down, decimated, conquered.

“If… If they show me a picture of him alive,” he whispered, and he knew he was saying something awful, admitting something dark and frightening, “and then they tell me to aim missiles at… at some hospital full of refugees on the Syrian border, they’re counting on the fact that a father would-”

“But you wouldn’t.”

His head snapped back up, and he nearly laughed at the conviction in Rhodey’s voice. God, had everyone really forgotten who he truly was? The heroism of Iron Man was an act. It was a stage curtain, drawn down to hide the monster underneath. Tony Stark was not a good man. He was certainly not a selfless one.

Yet he was so good at pretending that even his best friend believed the ruse.

He turned to stare at Rhodey, voice low. “I might.”

And that might be the most important thing I’ve ever said to you.

The corner of Rhodey’s mouth quirked up, like some part of this was actually amusing to him. “There are people around you who won’t let you.”

He couldn’t possibly be this good at deception. Had Rhodey actually forgotten? Had he forgotten that Tony hadn’t always been an Avenger, that the Merchant of Death was still a title that haunted him? Somedays, he was almost certain that he was more Merchant of Death than he was Iron Man. More a war-profiteer than he was an idol.

“What about a picture?” He said, because he didn’t know how to stop. He’d never known how to stop. “They’ve got a knife to his throat, and they tell me to send a Jericho missile to a bunker in Afghanistan?”

Rhodey shook his head. “You shouldn’t think of images like that.”

This time, he did laugh. Rhodey flinched, concern etched in every inch of his face, because yeah, Tony probably looked like he was losing his mind. And wasn’t he? His child was missing. There was no sanity to this.

“All I can think of are images like that.”

“Tony…”

“I know it's a strange time to bring this up,” he said, and he knew it was abrupt, but nothing seemed quite so linear anymore, “but I forecasted this once. I made up a scary story a few years ago for Peter so that he’d take his protection seriously, and I… and I went too far. And I scared him.” He let out a breath, years-harbored shame rising in his chest. “And he cried. And this… this was the story.”

“Tony-”

“I’m supposed to keep him safe.” His shoulders jerked, his breath hitched. He bit his knuckles to hold back a sob, ribs creaking under the strain of keeping it in. “That’s… fuck, Rhodey, that’s my only job. I’m supposed to keep him safe.”

“You can’t protect him from everything.” There was a pause, hesitant. “The world doesn’t stop spinning just because he’s your child. He’s gotta find his way just like everybody else, and you were letting him do that.”

He wished it was as easy as that, as straightforward and simple to navigate, but it wasn’t. Once again, they’d found their way back to the same frustration he’d been helping Peter cope with for years: being a Stark was not normal. Nothing around them would ever be normal. Sure, the world didn’t stop spinning, but they had to operate differently inside of it, just because of Tony and his curse of a last name.

The money was nice. The fame was even pleasant, every once in a while. It certainly had been when he was young. But now? God, Tony just wanted quiet. He didn’t want this for his children. He’d give anything to drop off the radar, live in some middle-class neighborhood, buy a lawnmower, argue with Pepper about school districts.

“But they took him because he’s my child,” he pushed. They took him because they know it’ll break me. “This… This wouldn’t’ve happened to another kid, Rhodey. You know that.”

“Maybe not, but it did happen, and that’s what you’ve got to work with. Now, come inside,” Rhodey ordered, slicing a knife down on the conversation, as if ending the words could end the horrors still playing through Tony’s head. “Come inside, sit with your wife, and let us fix this.”

There is no fixing this. This will never be fixed.

But instead of staying that, he just did as he was told, and hoped that the next few hours wouldn’t bring him doing something awful in Peter’s name.

It was such a pure name, washed clean by kid who carried it. It didn’t deserve to be sullied by Tony’s true nature, by the darkness he dragged behind him like a chain.

God knows that enough had already been sacrificed on that altar.

It was daylight, and there were reporters outside.

Happy and his guys were keeping them back. Apparently, they’d released details of Peter’s kidnapping to the press in the hope that someone might’ve seen something, that they’d come forward with information. In these kinds of cases, one detail, one first person account, could be the difference between life and death.

They’d set up a hotline, and the team was already chasing a few leads, but the reporters were chasing the story, the sensationalism of it all, and Tony hated it.

His child wasn’t a headline. His child was a child. A living, breathing, precious person. Something be cradled and adored and protected. Not something be exploited for a melodramatic hook.

Pepper and Steve would talk about it in tense, hushed tones. A couple of the Avengers had gone out to talk to the gathered press, just once or twice, but Tony didn’t have a clue what they were saying.

What did other parents do when this sort of thing happened? When their child was taken from them? He remembered a few high-profile kidnappings, all distant and wobbly in his head. What did they do? Did they print flyers? Did they give interviews? Did they beg?

Wait. Wait. That’s… That’s exactly what parents did.

They begged. They pleaded. They told the kidnappers that they’d do whatever they wanted, as long as they got their baby back.

He staggered to his feet, a little wobbly but emotions finally hardening into something tangible, something he could focus on.

There were only a few things on Earth that Tony Stark was willing to swallow his pride for, and this… this was one of them. His children would always be one of them.

He was going to beg.

He only made it about four steps towards the cabin’s door before the team noticed. There were a solid few seconds of scattered glances, a rapid exchange of responsibilities, until Natasha stood and took the lead.

“Tony?” She grabbed at his arm, expression somehow soft and fierce all at once. “Tony, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna make a direct appeal.”

The whole room went silent. He made the mistake of glancing at Clint’s face, and the raw pity there made him want to scream.

“Tony,” Nat said, voice quiet, coaxing, lowered like he was stupid, “you can’t.”

“I’m his father,” he choked out, because at the end of the day, that was the only thing that mattered, the only explanation that he should ever have to give. “I-I don’t even know why I’ve waited this long. I-”

And then Steve was there, reaching for his other arm, voice as calm and solid as it always was.

“Come on, Tony, let’s think this through-”

“Get away from me,” he snapped.

“Tony-”

“I’m going to make a direct appeal,” he repeated, and even he knew that he sounded like a broken record, but he just… all he could see was Peter. The stupid grin on his face earlier that day, when Morgan had barreled into his chest and he’d scooped her up off the ground, spinning her like she was the one who just graduated, like she was the most valuable thing he’d ever held. “I don’t know why I waited this long.”

Nat sounded a little desperate now, pulling hard at his sleeve, warning. “Tony, I know that you’ve convinced yourself that you’re doing what’s right, but you’re not thinking straight-”

And then there was Pepper.

She planted herself between him and the door, firm and solid and Tony knew, he knew that he wasn’t getting past her. He knew it from the moment he saw the look on her face: devastated and loving and calm.

“Stop it, Tony,” she said, soft and kind.

He grabbed for her, taking fistfuls of her shirt and clinging. He felt like a little kid, confused and lost and alone. He was navigating whitewater rapids without a map or a paddle. He couldn’t… He couldn’t do this. People weren’t built to survive this kind of thing. It wasn’t possible.

“I… I have to make a direct-”

“No,” she murmured, cutting him off. “No, Tony, Natasha’s right. You can’t.”

“Why not?”

He had meant for the question to be abrasive, angry, but it just came out broken.

“It can be seen as negotiating with the people who took him,” Pepper said, not apologizing, not pulling punches, “and if their goal is to destabilize us, or Stark Industries, or the Avengers, then they're going to see you and know that they're succeeding.” She let out a breath, composure cracking just a little, just at the corners. “You… You can’t make a direct appeal.”

He knew she was right. He’d known she was right long before he’d even made the choice to do it.

It still felt like he’d been torn in two.

He sank to the floor. He was vaguely aware of Natasha grabbing his elbow, guiding him down so he didn’t hurt himself. She pushed him up against the wall, then stepped away, gave him the room he needed to crumble.

“Honey,” Pepper whispered, voice hitching, hands tracing down his face. He didn’t know when she’d joined him on the floor, but he… he was so glad she was there. He was so glad that someone was still there. “Honey, I…”

“I’ve seen other fathers do it,” he croaked. “Before. In… In other kidnappings. I’ve seen other fathers do it.”

“I know.”

“I thought… I just thought that, that maybe if I tried, then I would’ve… then I would’ve done something.”

“I know.”

“I can’t stand not doing something. I have to be doing something.”

“I know that, too.”

His eyes jerked up, meeting hers in a clash of long-harbored panic. “Pep… What if he’s…”

“He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re not other fathers,” she said gently, a sad smile on her face. “Other fathers make direct appeals because that’s all they can do. They’re going to want to negotiate, Tony.”

“I… I can’t negotiate, Pep. Not… Not for him. How could I?”

“I know that. That’s why I’m going to do it.”

He blinked. That was… a good idea. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. Pepper had never, ever lost a deal that mattered. Ever. She had a spotless track record. And while she loved Peter, she wasn’t as shredded by this as he was. Her head was still above the water, at least for now.

Pepper had joked, once, a little bitterly, that Peter was all Tony’s kid, she just helped out with the details. He knew that wasn’t entirely true, of course. She’d stepped up for Peter in ways that had mattered beyond her comprehension, but she wasn’t entirely wrong, either. Peter had been his kid long before he’d been Pepper’s. And that changed dynamics. It had to.

“You have to bring him home.”

“We will, Tony,” Pepper said, and Tony wished with everything he had that he could drown himself in her belief, her faith. “We’re going to do everything we can to bring him back to you.”

He tried to ignore the fact that, as promises went, she’d just given him a pretty unstable one.

Tony was still sitting on the floor, staring blankly into nothing, when the alert chimed in.

He didn’t think anything of it, at first, and he supposed that he’d been doing a lot of that tonight. Staring past the obvious, overlooking the signs because ignorance was so blessed and calm compared to knowing.

But then Natasha’s face went hard, and she was waving for Steve, and then he was waving for Rhodey, and then he was waving for Pepper, and Tony realized that something had just gone very, very wrong.

He staggered upright, making a beeline for the rapidly growing group huddled around Natasha’s laptop. He couldn’t see past their shoulders, couldn’t even hear what they were saying, because so many voices were intersecting and overlapping in every other beat, and it was enough to make him want to scream.

“Is it Peter?” He snapped, and Steve swung to face him, face a mixture of pity and concern.

“Tony…”

That was all the answer he’d needed. It was Peter, then. Hell, what else would it be?

Something else had happened to Peter. Somewhere in his gut, he knew it was bad. Awful. Nothing that he wanted to see.

And yet he knew that he had to.

He tried to push past Steve’s restraining hand, craning his neck to catch of glimpse of the screen. “What is it?”

“It’s a ransom note,” Natasha said, forever to the point. He’d never appreciated that personality trait more than he did in that exact moment.

“And they sent a picture,” Steve added.

The world snapped to a halt. He felt hysterical. Unhinged. And Steve… Steve didn’t understand. None of them did, except maybe Clint. He was a father and he’d been torn away from his child. He just… He just wanted him back, even if it was in the form of a picture. Even if it was through a ransom note.

“Is it of Peter?!” He tried to lunge forward again, and failed. Damn Steve’s super strength. He wished he had the suit. “The… The picture. Is the picture of Peter?”

“Yeah, Tony, it is, but you have to understand-”

“Let me see,” he snarled. “He’s my kid. It’s for me. So let me see it.”

To his surprise, the group all exchanged glances, different people in varying degrees of sympathetic pain, and parted.

The image had obviously been taken with a polaroid camera, and then scanned or faxed alongside the handwritten ransom note. The quality was bad, but it was clear enough to show details. It… It wasn’t grainy enough to spare him.

Peter was tied to a chair, a dirty gag shoved into his mouth, digging into his cheeks. The kidnappers had tossed a newspaper into his lap, proof of life with the date clearly shown, but that wasn’t what caught Tony’s attention. No, it was Peter’s face that ached, somewhere deep in his gut. If he was a spiritual man, he would’ve said that it ached in his soul.

He knew his kid. Knew his eyes like he’d never known anything else. And that photo? It was wrong. Peter wasn’t just scared: he was drugged out of his mind. In fact, it was the general lack of fear in the kid’s gaze that disturbed him the most. He looked too incoherent for any emotion other than exhaustion.

He’d seen Peter high before, always after Spider-Man related injuries, but it’d never been like this. It had always been monitored, consensual, safe, and nothing they’d given him had ever made him vacant. He was usually just sleepy or giggly or both. He’d… He’d never looked so detached.

It made Tony want to hold him, shield him, but now he couldn’t do either of those things and it hurt.

“Oh, god,” he gasped, panic attack smacking right into him without warning, without a single chance to batten down the hatches. “Fuck.”

The world tilt-a-whirled. He felt Rhodey grab him, push and pull and tug him until he was sitting on the couch. His head was shoved between his knees, and conversations pinged around above him without any of the words computing. All he could hearseethink was Peter, Peter, Peter.

If I was a better father, none of this would’ve ever happened.

Eventually, someone grabbed his shoulders, hauled him upright, and it took him a full minute to realize it was Rhodey.

“Tony,” the Colonel said, and he sounded serious, like whatever he was saying was final, no arguments allow. “I’m going to call Bruce, alright?”

Yes. Yes. Bruce… Bruce would be good now. He’d heard them whispering about sedating him earlier, off in corners and hallways, when they thought he was too absorbed in his grief to notice. At the time, the thought had made his heart race, terror and revulsion making him paranoid. He couldn’t check out. He couldn’t. What use would he be to Peter like that?

Now, he’d lunge for just about anything that would take this feeling away. That would let him pull back from the grainy images of Peter’s eyes: glassy, unfocused, afraid and confused and lacking in that spark that would lull Tony into moments of forgetfulness. Moments when he’d genuinely have to remind himself that Morgan was the one with his DNA, not Peter.

“Tell him,” he gasped, eyes squeezed shut against the things he didn’t want to see, the photo that he’d never be able to forget, “tell him that I want whatever it is that Peter got.”

He didn’t know how long he slept for, but he knew that when he woke up, he woke up groggy. Groggy enough that, for a shamefully calm half hour, he forgot that Peter was missing.

And then he remembered, and he lost his child all over again.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. must’ve alerted Pepper when his heartrate spiked, because she slipped into the room within two minutes. She sat beside him, hand resting on his hip through their comforter. Her eyes were red, but she smiled like it was just another Tuesday, like their entire world wasn’t crumbling down around their feet, and he envied her. He envied her the composure. The ability to catalogue the things that were important and the things that weren’t.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey.”

“I thought you’d sleep longer than this.”

He pursed his lips, ignored the implicit suggestion in the words. “Anything new?”

“No.”

He nodded, took in the disappointment slowly, wondered how long he could survive living in limbo. There were thousands upon thousands of unsolved missing persons cases in the United States alone. Every hour that crawled by lessened their chances of bringing Peter home alive, or even bringing him home at all. How could Tony possibly be one of those parents, the ones who spent the rest of their heartbeats agonizing over their child’s loss?

Are they still alive, hidden somewhere out in the world, vulnerable and unprotected? Are they dead? Which option is better: knowing that they’re alive, and suffering, or dead and free? Oh, god. What was it like, at the end? Were they afraid? Did they cry? Did they call out for their dad, because he was the one person who was always meant to save them?

Tony hadn’t been there for the start of Peter’s life. And now it might be over, Peter might be gone, and he hadn’t even been there for that, too. Couldn’t even say if it had happened.

“What time is it?” He asked, just to distract himself. Besides, every hour marked a dwindling statistic. Tony needed to know if they stood a chance, if there was still even a sliver of hope, and someone must’ve closed the curtains after he’d gone to bed, so he couldn’t quite see if there was daylight or darkness behind them.

“7:30.”

“Oh,” he whispered. That was later than he’d thought. The graph in his head nosedived. “Bruce gave me something.”

Pepper’s face twitched, eyes bleeding sympathy. “I know. I’m so sorry, honey.”

“They gave… They gave Peter something, too,” he choked out, “and… and he said that it made him feel sick and I wasn’t there to take care of him.”

Pepper’s blink lasted a good few seconds longer than it should’ve, as if watching Tony crumble was too much for her to watch, but the rest of her stayed steady. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He swallowed, trying to stamp down the perpetual helplessness that had taken residence in his gut, replace it with something else, something he could hold.

“How’s Morgan?”

“She’s okay. She’s been asking to see you.”

“I wanna see her.”

“In a minute.” Pepper slid her hand through his hair, voice soft, the kind of tone she used with Morgan or Peter when they were upset. “Try to relax a little first.”

“I had a dream,” he blurted. He knew that this was probably the opposite of what Pepper meant by relaxing, but he couldn’t help it. “I was in Peter’s bedroom, but it was… it was before. Right after May died. Remember… Remember how he wouldn’t get out of bed?”

For a split second, Pepper’s face flashed from composure to devastation, but it was so brief that it was easy to imagine that it had never happened at all. “Of course I remember. He wouldn’t get up, so you used to go in there and sit with him.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, and he smiled despite himself. He treasured those memories just as much as he wished they’d never happened. Helping Peter grieve for May was an ongoing tragedy, and one of the hardest things he’d ever had to watch, but once the initial aftershocks ended, Tony had gained a second child. “He’d curled up in my lap, and I was holding him. We didn’t… We weren’t even talking. I was just holding him.”

He swallowed, breath hitching. He met Pepper’s eyes, trying desperately to convey something that just wasn’t possible to capture in words. A loss, a fear, a weakening hope.

“Pep,” he whispered, hoarse and crackling, “Pep, I was holding him, but then I woke up and he wasn’t there.”

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t apologize, or promise that they’d get him back.

She just reached out and took his hand.

It was just past 11:00 when Rhodey pushed into the bedroom.

For a split second, Tony assumed the worst. But then,

“We found him,” Rhodey breathed. Beside him, Pepper gasped, like she couldn’t believe it. “Happy got a lead and, well, it doesn’t really matter. But we’ve got him, Tones. Steve’s got him.”

The flight from New York to Calverton, Virginia took an hour. They left Morgan back at the cabin, with Clint’s wife. Tony half considered bringing her, but he didn’t know what shape Peter would be in, physically or mentally. And he… he didn’t want to frighten her, although he supposed that was a moot point after the last 48 hours.

When this was all over, Tony promised himself that he’d apologize to both his children, for lots of different things.

For now, he just wanted Peter. He wanted to hold him, like in his dream but real. He wanted a moment that he couldn’t wake up from.

He mostly ignored Rhodey’s explanation of how they’d tracked the kidnappers down. It was complicated and had something to do with a gas station and a random college kid who’d seen Peter’s picture on the news. Happenstance, really. They’d gotten lucky.

“Is he alright?” Pepper asked, and Tony was glad that someone rational was thinking of the important things. “Did they hurt him?”

“The medics think that he may have a clavicle fracture,” Rhodey said. Tony could feel his eyes on him even though he was staring at his feet. “His kidnappers set off some tear gas and stun grenades when the team went it, so he’s got some irritation and ringing in his ears. No sign of sexual assault, but he’s still pretty out of it. They’re running a tox screen to make sure we’re not in danger of any overdoses.”

Tony looked up. He flexed his hands out in front of him, wincing when his wrists popped. “Is he asking for me?”

“Yeah. Steve said that that’s pretty much the only thing he’s said, too. Asked where you were a couple times and checked out.”

Tony bit his lip. Peter had been drugged, beaten, surrounded by doctors he didn’t know and thrown right into the chaos of a crime scene, and yet he’d still looked up at strangers and asked for him.

“Does he know I’m coming?”

“The medics told him.” Rhodey reached across the seats and grabbed his elbow as they started to descend, engines whining. “Hey, look at me. You sure you’re good to do this?”

He blinked, barely even processing the words.

What kind of question is that?

“This,” he started, quiet enough that there was no way Rhodey would’ve heard him if they didn’t have headsets, “is my job.”

“If he sees you upset, it’s gonna make him even more upset.”

“He won’t see me upset.”

Rhodey groaned, and it kind of hurt that nobody seemed to believe he was capable of parenting his own goddamn kid, no matter what emotional state he was in. “Tony, you’re-”

“Very good at this,” he finished, cutting off whatever Rhodey actually meant to say. He imagined he wouldn’t’ve liked it much, anyway. “I’m very good at this.”

“I know you are, Tony, but this has been a rough-”

“He won’t know I’m upset,” he snarled, voice dangerous, and it felt so good to have a purpose. To have something to curl over and protect. “He won’t.”

Rhodey sighed, defeated. He didn’t look like he believed him, but Tony didn’t really care. “Alright. Just be careful, okay? Don’t go overboard.”

Overboard. Of course he was gonna go overboard. He was gonna go overboard with absolutely everything for the rest of Peter’s life.

He didn’t bother walking when the helicopter landed. He just bolted, weaving through police and paramedics and FBI agents and what felt like a thousand other pointless uniforms. Pepper and Rhodey both tailed him, not missing a beat.

Nobody had told him where Peter was, and it was pitch black outside, midnight having only recently come and gone. The only light came from the dozens of different emergency signals spread out across the field, blue and red and yellow and every other color of the rainbow, all blinking at their own dizzying frequencies. There was no logical way that he should’ve been able to find his kid in that chaos, and yet his feet just took him there, like they’d walked this path a million times, even though he wasn’t sure that he’d ever been within a hundred miles of Calverton before.

He saw the security before he saw his kid. There were about ten guards holding a perimeter around the solitary ambulance, and Tony made a mental note to give Happy a goddamn raise once this was all over.

And then there was Peter, and every single mental note he’d ever made evaporated into thin air.

He was slouched over on the back of the ambulance, orange shock blanket folded over his shoulders. He was bloody, bruised. There was dirt and ash all over his face, but none of that mattered at all because he was still the most beautiful, wonderful, breathtaking thing Tony had ever seen.

“Peter!” His voice broke with the force of the shout. “Peter!”

Despite everything, Peter recognized him right away. His head turned towards the sound, and his arms lifted up, fingers curling weakly in the air.

“Tony?”

“Here,” he gasped, skidding to a stop in front of the kid. “I’m right here, Pete. I’m right here.”

He grabbed Peter’s face between his hands, dragged the pads of his thumbs along the curve of his cheekbones, brushing away tear-smudged grime, and all his anguish evaporated. Gone. He knew it’d return, at some point, probably in the folds of night, far away from where anyone but Pepper could see it, but for now he was calm, capable. He felt in control, because that was the only thing he was allowed to be. Because that was exactly what Peter needed him to be.

He’d meant what he’d said to Rhodey. He was good at this.

“Hey there, buddy,” he whispered. He sniffed hard against the tears building in his throat, but he was grinning so wide that his cheeks ached. “You really got yourself into a mess this time, huh?”

“He’s been a little too close to unresponsive for our tastes,” one of the medics offered, and he glanced up to her. She had a sympathetic smile on her face, soft and kind, “but we were hoping that having dad here might help.”

He nodded, hoping that his expression conveyed the thanks he didn’t have the breath to voice, and turned his attention back to Peter. “Hey, hey,” he cooed, shifting Peter’s face a little, trying to get a reaction. “You with me, squirt?”

Peter looked dazed, pupils blown so wide that Tony could barely find any brown in his eyes at all, but there was recognition there, too. Drowsy and subdued, but recognition all the same.

“‘M with you,” he slurred, blinking hard. “I don’ feel very good.”

“I know, squirt. We’re gonna fix that, okay?”

Peter nodded, then slumped forward into his chest, nose digging into the crook of his neck. “‘M sorry. Didn’… Didn’ mean it.”

Tony had expected the apology, but it still felt like a slap in the face. “Shh, shh. None of this was your fault, kiddo.”

I’m sorry I didn’t do enough to protect you.

“‘M so glad you’re here,” Peter mumbled, and Tony wondered if he even knew that he was talking. “Kept asking for you. They said you w’re coming.”

Tony could feel each one of Peter’s breaths on his skin, warm and slow and relaxed. He’d heard about hostage victims being keyed-up on release, jumpy and paranoid, and just here his kid was: practically dozing off in his arms, murmuring apologies and sermons of faith, easy and relaxed just because Tony was here. Because Tony was holding him.

“Of course I was coming,” he managed to choke out. “I’ll always come for you, Pete. I’m always gonna come for you.”

“Mm. I know. Always got me.”

He’d never deserve this. Never. He could spend the rest of his life devoted to charity, to selflessness, and yet there would never come a day when he would deserve his children.

It should’ve been a disheartening thought, but it wasn’t. It was humbling. It made him feel grateful.

He found the gaze of the nurse who’d first spoken to him, fingers threading slowly through Peter’s hair. “Can I take him?”

“Of course,” she said. “But he’ll need x-rays to confirm that fracture, and fluids, and I wouldn’t let him go unmonitored until his tox screens start coming back clear. You have someone back at base who can do all that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then he’s all yours.”

He wrapped the shock blanket more firmly around Peter’s shoulders, dreaming of the moment he could tear it off, burn it, and replace it with one of the red fleece ones Pepper had brought back from a conference in Colorado at the end of Peter’s senior year. He couldn’t wait until they could finally peel off the layers of this night and replace them with new memories, with new things, with good, peaceful, mundane things.

“I’m gonna take you home now, Pete,” he whispered, fisting his hand desperately in the back of the kid’s shirt. “We’re gonna go home.”

Peter slept straight through the helicopter ride back to New York, legs stretched over Tony’s lap like a cat. He woke up just long enough for Tony to guide him to his bedroom (Tony had to coach him up the stairs like it was his first encounter with the concept), but he was out again as soon as he reached his bed. Cho and Bruce both assured him that there was nothing to be concerned about, that his body was just burning off the drugs, but it didn’t stop him from laying Peter against his chest and keeping a finger on his pulse.

Cho and Bruce must’ve sensed that he wanted nothing more than to be left alone with his kid, because they rushed through the process of converting Peter’s bedroom into a makeshift hospital suite. Peter roused a little when Cho placed his IV, but only enough to make a mild noise of displeasure and bury himself more firmly into Tony’s arms. Otherwise, Peter seemed perfectly content to let Tony deal with the world for him.

That was fine. That was more than fine, actually. It was exactly what he’d been wanting to do for days.

Pepper wandered in and out of the room, spreading her time between them and Morgan. Bruce popped in to give him the tox screen results, but he left almost as soon as he came. He didn’t know what the rest of the team was doing, but he knew that Rhodey had stayed behind in Calverton, with Happy.

The longer he spent unwinding, the more he wished he’d asked better questions.

He didn’t have a clue what had actually happened to Peter, didn’t know if his kidnappers were captured or dead, or if they’d escaped. He didn’t know anything.

Steve knocked on the doorframe after a few hours of pointless wondering, shifting nervously on his feet. It was as if Tony had put an impassable barrier around Peter’s bed, the kind that no one could see but everyone could feel. Nobody was brave enough to touch it.

“You can come it,” he said, amused. “I don’t bite.”

Steve took two steps forward, then stopped, clearly having no intention of moving any farther. “I don’t mean to intrude-”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you need, Steve?”

“The press is clamoring for a statement,” Steve said, after a brief moment of hesitation, “preferably in person.”

Tony pushed some of Peter’s hair back from his forehead, forcing himself to ignore the tiny cuts and bruises littering the kid’s face. “Giving a statement would involve leaving this room.”

Steve just nodded. “I understand.” He gestured in Peter’s direction, stiff and unsure, like he was treading on ice. “How is he?”

Tony smiled. He really didn’t know why everyone seemed so determined to dance around the topic of Peter, especially now that he was home. It wasn’t a touchy subject, it was Tony’s favorite subject.

“He’s sleeping, safe and sound.”

“I’m glad.”

“They ran a tox screen,” he offered. “He’s got GBH and ecstasy and a couple other pretty nasty things in his system. Cho’s confident that the fluids should help him metabolize it. F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirmed that he’s got a small fracture in his collarbone, but his healing should take care of it pretty quickly once his body recalibrates.” He smiled, eyes never leaving Peter’s face. “He’ll be back to playing Mario Kart with Morgan in no time.”

“Good.” Steve walked around to his side of the bed, steps slow and measured. “Do you want me to give you the details of everything now, or later?”

“Give me the essentials. Are they dead?”

“Yeah.” Relief shot through him. “Clint got two with his arrows. The other one was sleeping when we came in. He tried to grab a weapon, but Nat got to him first. Sam found Peter locked in a closet in the back bedroom.”

The rage he felt at the detail conflicted with the tenderness that rose with every second he spent with his children. In the end, he set the anger aside. He didn’t need it, right now. It wouldn’t made Peter heal faster.

“You sure there were only three?”

“We’re looking into it, but we’re nearly positive.”

He dipped his head in Peter’s direction. “How was he when you found him?”

Darkness swooped over Steve’s face, and his voice went hard. “Not great.” A pause. “You think he’ll be alright?”

“Without a doubt,” he said, and he meant it. “He’s a tough kid, and he’s got a good therapist. Pretty sure there isn’t anything he can’t tackle and come out the winner.”

“And what about you?” Steve asked, as sincere as Tony had ever heard him. “Will you be alright?”

He smoothed his palm down Peter’s back, and thought back to his dream. He’d imagined the whole thing wrong, he realized. The joy he’d felt then hadn’t captured even a single fraction of the joy he was feeling now.

“Of course I’ll be alright,” he said, like it was obvious. “I’ve got the best family in the world.”

Natasha had never been in Peter’s room before. Then again, she’d very rarely been the cabin, either. Tony had gone out of his way to keep his family shielded from everyone, even the team.

After everything they’d been through, she had a hard time blaming him for that.

Tony and Peter were both asleep when she poked her head through the door. She guessed that it was probably the first time either of them had had any real rest in days. Even unconscious, Tony had placed himself between Peter and the door, arms wrapped tightly around the kid, as if someone was going to try to steal him when he wasn’t looking.

Bruce and Cho had turned the bedroom into a makeshift hospital room, monitors and an IV pole tucked up in a corner, but it didn’t change the cozy atmosphere. A few framed sci-fi posters littered the walls, but there were family pictures as well: everything from photobooth strips to professional portraits.

For a brief few seconds, she let herself wonder what it would’ve been like to grow up in a place that felt like a home.

Pepper ended up catching her attention before the thoughts could go too far. She was the only other person in the room, and, unlike Tony and Peter, she was actually awake. She beckoned for her to come in, posture as relaxed as Natasha had ever seen it.

“Hey,” Pepper greeted, voice just above a whisper. “Are you here for Tony?”

“I am.”

“Can it wait?”

Her eyes flickered up to the pair curled around each other on the bed, and she made her decision without a hint of hesitation. “I’ll make it wait.”

Pepper shot her a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. How are they?”

Pepper leaned forward in her chair, and brushed the back of Peter’s hand gently. It was a mother’s touch, kind and adoring. She tried not to stare.

“Peter’s still pretty out of it, but he’s been talking to Tony, so that’s a step in the right direction. It might take a while for his metabolism to clear out all the shit they pumped into him, but his vitals are holding steady.”

“Did the tox screen come back?”

Pepper sighed. “It did. It’s a miracle Tony didn’t have an aneurism when Cho read it to us. They gave him GHB and ecstasy, among a few other things, but there’s nothing we can do about it except wait.”

That certainly wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. She hadn’t said it out loud, but she’d been prepping herself for the possibility that by the time they found the kid, they’d have already OD’d him.

She’d seen those kinds of bodies before, and they weren’t pretty. She wasn’t sure how Tony’s would’ve handled it.

Speaking of which…

“And how’s Tony?”

Pepper’s face softened even more at the mention of her husband. She reached out to adjust his shirt, tone warm. “His baby’s back, so all’s right with the world again. At least for now.” She let out an exhausted breath. “And after everything that’s happened, I’ll take for now.”

She wondered if Pepper had slept since Peter’s graduation. The more she analyzed the past few days, the more she came to the conclusion that she hadn’t.

“I doubt Peter’ll be allowed out of his sight for the next few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Pepper snorted, a rare slip of her polish. Natasha guessed that she saw it more than the boys did. “Oh, Peter’s going to have Tony following him around for the next decade at least. It’ll be sweet for a while, because at first he’ll actually enjoy the coddling, but then both of them are going to make my life a living hell.”

Natasha just smiled. There wasn’t even a hint of genuine aggravation in Pepper’s voice: just relief. “You can’t wait, can you?”

Pepper’s face lit up. “God, Nat, I’ve never been more ecstatic over the thought of the two of them snipping at each other in my life.”

She laughed, careful not to disturb either of Pepper’s charges, then took a cautious step towards the door. As much as she enjoyed Pepper’s company, there were still a million things to be done. She’d handle the paperwork, and she’d let the parents handle the kid.

She wasn’t really qualified for the gushy stuff.

“I’ll let you spend some time with your family.”

“Actually, Nat, before you go…” Pepper paused, chewing on the words, “just, well, thank you. People are never able to forget that Peter’s Tony’s child, but they tend to overlook that he’s mine now, too. He’s been mine for nearly six years. And I know that I’ll never love him like Tony does, but… but I still love him, and I’m still grateful.”

“I’m just doing my job,” she said, smile tight.

“It’s a good job, Nat.”

She backed the rest of the way into the hall. “Yeah, it is.”

The door clicked shut, and she just barely inclined her head to the security guard that was stationed outside of it. They’d be a common presence around here, for a while, at least until Stark re-found that tenuous balance between keeping his kids safe and letting them live.

She’d been worried about Peter, before. If there was anyone in the world who understood trauma, understood what it could do to your soul, it was Natasha Romanoff, but she knew now that Peter Parker had something that she’d never had.

He had people who gave a shit. People who’d make sure that he was fine.

She wondered if he knew how lucky he had it.

#wooo it's a monster #me: my irondadbingo is going to be short little ficlets!#also me: *writes 11k words*#help #irondad #irondadbingo #tony & peter #tony stark #peter parker #losingmymindtonight writes

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axelsagewrites · 5 years ago

Text

Stiles Stilinski*Followed Pt1

Ship(s): Stiles x Fem!Reader

Requested (?): By anonymous

Can I get a Stiles x reader where the reader is this grunge/punk girl and is kinda intimidating and to everyone (even Derek?) and she finally gets a chance to be alone with Stiles (detention, study hall, etc. your choice) and they realize they have A LOT more in common than they thought?

Warnings?: couple swears, the norm.

Masterlist HERE

Wattpad HERE

(Y/N) pov

I swear if one more person says I’m scary I’m going to flip out! Okay, maybe that won’t convince them but still. Apparently, I look intimidating. My face is just naturally aggressive for some reason. It's like a curse really.

This was one of the reasons, I think, that my friendship group is only small. Very small, at least in school. while I had friends from middle school and even a couple from freshman year, I hadn’t made any recently in school.

According to my friends, it might have something to do with the dyed hair, sarcastic comments and, resting bitch face. I come from a very sarcastic family and you have to be witty to survive.

While I’m not exactly bullied words like ‘goth’ ‘emo’ and ‘freak’ seem to be used more when I walk in a room. While there isn’t anything wrong with being goth, I’m just sick of being called it. For a time, I just stopped wearing anything with black on it but after coming to school in a white and yellow outfit and still getting called goth I gave up.

So, I’m the grunge kid. The one your parents tell you to cross the street from and that your grandma reminds you how sweet you used to be. And I don’t give a fuck.

But I kinda do. Like while I don’t deal with the awkwardness of introductions and meeting new people it’s because people don’t talk to me. And I wanna talk! I want to make new friends and get out of my shell. Partly because I don’t want to be alone forever and partly because I don’t wanna die alone!

For a while now this school has felt…strange. It started with a dead body being found in the woods and for some reason, my stomach is still in knots. Not to mention the guy they suspected of the murder keeps randomly showing up at school and dragging Scott and Stiles away. While I’m not friends with either I can’t help but be a little worried for them.

As I walk out of school, I prepare for the walk home. Headphones, jacket zipped, and dead face. I might as well live up to expectations. Honesty I’m used to the silent walk home. I live just close enough that I can walk but far enough that it’s a pain in the ass. Occasionally I get lucky and get a ride home, but it’s been a while.

I pass by a car far too nice to be in our parking lot and the man in the car sends chills down my spine. Derek Hale. Why is he here and why does he creep me out? The black Camaro feels like a shadow over the school, a constant reminder that Beacon Hills isn’t that safe after all.

Unlike in a room com when our eyes locked, and I didn’t look away it was because I was scared. But I couldn’t show that. Never.

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3rd pov

Derek’s eyes stayed on the unnamed girl as she walked away until he heard his car door open. “Who is she?” he asked as Scott slid into the front seat.

Stiles clambered into the back seat, making Derek internally wince at the mud on his shoes, “Who?” He said loudly as if he was in some TV show.

Derek rolled his eyes and looked at Scott, just hoping someone would be normal. “Um, I’m not sure. She’s from a different middle school. kinda keeps to herself,”

“Is this the scary chick from chemistry?” Stiles's head popped between the two front seats.

“Yup, What’s her name again?” Scott said, flinging his head back. “(Y/N)?”

“Yeah (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Really sarcastic, kinda scary, and would probably start a fight. Remind you of anyone?” Stiles looked at Derek.

Derek raised an eyebrow at the boy, “You’re scared of me?” Stiles mumbled something under his breath, “Put your belts on. I don’t need more problems,”

As Derek backed out his parking spot Scott piped up, “Why do you wanna know anyway?”

“Hm? Just wondered. Something about her doesn’t seem quite…right,”

“Like supernatural?” Stiles asked, popping his head through again. “Can’t you use your werewolf smell to tell?” Derek rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. In truth she didn’t have a smell, unlike Stiles where Derek could smell his emotions, she didn’t have anything. Or maybe he just couldn’t tell. Derek didn’t like not knowing.

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(Y/N) pov

Another day, same old school stuff. My mum, who used to resent some of the clothes I’d wear, said nothing as I walked out in grey skinny jeans, Star Wars tee, and dark green shirt.

It was winter now and the walks home and to school were getting darker. Last night it felt like someone lingered around every corner, but I was alone. The walk to school was only made better as I knew the sun was rising.

My mum didn’t finish work till 5 but something was telling me I shouldn’t walk home tonight. Instead, I told her I was going to study support and would be finished around 5. Luckily, she offered to swing by after to pick me up meaning I wouldn’t be leaving school till about 5:15.

All the hope of my friends staying with me went out the window. One was sick, one had to leave early for a dentist appointment, and the last didn’t want to stay back that long because she had an online tournament that night. So, I was going to be alone.

Chemistry study support lasted from the end of school, 3:30, till 4:30. What I was going to do after, I don’t know. But alas I took the walk to chemistry after school and figured the school, at least, was safe.

Kinda.

While Mr. Harrison hatted everyone in his class equally, he was still required to do at least one after school study support class. No one ever went. I’d even emailed him the night before to make sure it was still on. He said it was though and even double-checked in chemistry first thing that I was still going, probably wanted to see if he could not go himself. He didn’t linger long though as after asking me Stiles station started smoking and he quickly went to yell at the boy.

both tragically and thankfully I walked to his class after the bell. As expected when I stepped in his class it was empty. Well apart from the man sat at his desk, moodily grading papers. He looked up as I entered, “You came,” his voice was as motioned as always.

“Yup,” I gave an awkward smile. Quickly I went to my sent, pulling out my chemistry stuff. I figured if I was going to be here I might as well study, “Sir can you how I went wrong on this question?”

The eye-roll he barely tried to hide spoke volumes. Alas, he did saunter over to my desk to brutally tell me where I had gone wrong. Just as he finished his spiel the door opened. “You’re late Stiles,” he said, not looking away from my paper.

“Sorry, Sir. Coach- “

“Sit down,” Mr. Harrison sauntered away from my desk over to his. He pulled out two poly pockets filled with sheets and handed Stiles and me a packet. “Study this. I need to go to the photocopier and if a single thing is out of place when I come back, I’ll know who did it,” his stormy gaze was met with two pairs of uncaring teenage eyes before he all but stormed out the class.

As I glanced over the papers, I realised I would rather wait in the parking lot. I couldn’t help chuckling a little before I packed up. Stiles shifted in his seat, “Where are you going?” he stuttered a little.

I looked up from my desk to see him looking at me, but he looked straight down. “Anywhere but here. I came for study support not to proofread a book,”

“You chose to be here?”

“Yeah,” I said with a fake preppy smile, “apparently I really do hate myself,” I walked to the front of the class. “Detention?” he nodded with an awkward smile before sulking in his chair, tapping his pencil. He had the same habit each time he got embarrassed in class which was too often. “What’d you do?”

“Scott put too much of the enzyme in and then there was smoke, but it was only a little. And I got the blame! Because apparently coach wouldn’t miss me at practice,”

“Well that’s bull,” I said. Stiles just kinda nodded and somehow sulked further. “How longs your detention?”

“Till 4 or something. I mean you’ve probably had worse but still,”

I had to try hold in a laugh as I moved to sit on the desk across from Stiles. “Nope.” I chuckled. His eyebrows scrunched and damn his eyes, “I’ve never had detention,”

“Really? I mean no offence but like I just assumed because well you know- “

My sigh cut him off, “I’m what? Scary? Yeah, I get it but I’m not actually a bad person,”

“I never meant that. It's just you are a bit…” he seemed to think, “Intimidating. Like you look important and as if you’ve got somewhere to be and I don’t want to get in your way,”

“The only place I want to be is home,” I said, “At home, alone, watching some geeky movie with popcorn. But alas, here I am,”

Stiles paused, even stopping from tapping his pencil, “Sweet, salted, or butter popcorn?”

I paused for dramatic effect, “microwave popcorn, from the corner shop, butter – but! With sweet popcorn topping from a shaker,”

He groaned, “That sounds amazing,”

“It is,”

We fell back into silence. “If you could movie marathon any series,” Stiles started “What one would you chose?”

“Star Wars. Easy,”

“Really?” he asked, his jaw seemingly hanging off.

“Yeah,” I grinned, moving my plaid shirt out of the way to show the death star on my tee. Though I had worn it so often the print had faded, “what did you expect?”

“Some horror film or something. I didn’t expect you to be- “

“A massive geek?” Stiles laughed and a bubble formed in my chest, “Same question. What movie series? And what snacks?”

Somehow this turned into a 20-minute convo on movies before Harrison came back. “You’re still here?” he asked. “You know what just go. I’ve got better things to do than babysit two teenagers,” he didn’t have to tell us twice and we bolted for the door before he could change his mind.

“I can’t believe I chose to go there,” I laughed as we walked through the corridor.

“I know,” Stiles laugh was becoming a favourite sound of mine, “I mean maybe it’s a good thing. Now I know you’re not scary. And someone who finally loves Star Wars,”

“If you ever want to geek out?” I said, opening my arms as he opened the door to the outside “I’m down to talk Star Wars,”

The parking lot was desolate apart from 3 cars; Stiles, Mr. Harrisons, and some other car in the back corner of the lot. Stiles nodded to the car “Is that yours?”

“I don’t have a car,” I said, my eyes stuck on the car for some reason. I didn’t want to look away.

Stiles brought me back to reality “How are you getting home?”

I forced my eyes away and back towards the boy in front of me, “Um my mum said she'd pick me up after work,”

“When is she coming?” he asked, checking the time on his phone.

“like…5:20?” I said.

His eyes went wide, “So you’re just gonna sit here for over an hour?” I shrugged. He glanced at the blue truck, “Do you want a lift?”

“Um, are you sure? I wouldn’t want to- “

“It's fine yeah. I mean unless you don’t want to then I get it but um… I don’t mind.”

Silence. The blush on his checks made mine flare-up. “Hum, that would be great. I’ll text my mum then,”

“Its no problem. Where about do you stay?” when I told him something seemed to dawn on him, “you only live like 5 minutes from me,”

“Yeah you pass me in your truck every morning,” I said as I clambered into the passenger seat. “Nice car,”

“Thanks,” a goofy smile stretched his face, proud of himself. I couldn’t help smiling a little.

While the conversation was awkward and clunky it was honestly better than I had had with my friends at lunch. As we were driving, I got the same feeling I got last night. I kept glancing in the wing mirror. “Are you okay?” Stiles asked.

“That car,” I said, “in the wing mirror,” I saw him glance at it in the rear-view mirror. His eyes went back to the road but jumped back to the car almost instantly, “Is that from school?”

“Maybe they're going the same way?” he said.

“Why didn’t we notice them leave though?”

Stiles's eyes went back to the road, “I’ve got an idea,” he said as he put on his indicator. One left turn, then a right, then a left. the car was still there, “It following us,”

“But- “

“One's an incident, twos a coincidence, threes a pattern,” he reached into his pocket and handed me his phone, “text Scott,”

“Why Scott? Isn’t your dad the sheriff?” Stiles said nothing. Glancing at him, then the car, then the phone. I opened the phone and went to contacts, “Do you want him on speaker?”

“Don’t call!” Stiles looked at me quickly before putting his eyes on the road, “You need to trust me on this one. Text him. Tell him I’m going to Derek’s and to meet me there,”

“Like Derek hale? The murder?”

Stiles glanced at me, “I may not like the guy but believe it or not he’s one of the good guys. Kind of. Just trust me. Please?”

I nodded and opened Scott’s contact as I saw the car follow us around another corner.

#Stiles #stiles stilinski #stiles imagine #teen wolf stiles #Sheriff Stilinski #teen wolf #Teen Wolf Ships #teen wolf imagine #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi smut #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf stiles stilinski imagine #teen wolf stiles imagine

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nolwhite · 5 years ago

Text

Nolan White Biography

g e o m e t r i c s

↬ Full name ↫

Nolan Adam White

↬ Nickname ↫

Nol

↬ Birthday ↫

July 13

↬ Birthplace ↫

Auradon

↬ Zodiac ↫

Cancer

↬ Height ↫

5'7"

↬ Orientation ↫

Heterosexual

↬ Social Class ↫

Upper

↬ Wealth ↫

He grew up wealthy and fortunate, money was never an issue.

a p p e a r a n c e

↬ Tattoos ↫

None yet!

↬ Piercing ↫

None yet as well as needles freak him out.

↬ Outfits ↫

His style is pretty casual with the occasional athletic wear thrown in every now and then. Not to say he doesn’t have some fancy suits waiting for him back at his parents’ place if he needs to dress up for a function.

↬ Accessories ↫

Nolan isn’t big on accessorizing but almost always wears a pin with the AWPHI symbol somewhere on his clothing.

p e r s o n a l i t y

↬ Normal mood ↫

Nolan’s a pretty laidback guy for the most part. He doesn’t really like to let his emotions show.

↬ Temper ↫

It depends on the day, but if he’s feeling triggered his temper can unfortunately explode. It’s rare, but it happens.

↬ Discipline ↫

Nolan grew up being able to do whatever he wanted as Snow and Florian never really disciplined him that much. Sure, it made him spoiled, but Nolan is inherently a good person and doesn’t mind following the rules.

↬ Strengths ↫

Nolan is a really, really, really, really good friend. If he’s in your corner, it’s for life. His loyalty is one of the strongest in Auradon.

↬ Weaknesses ↫

In recent years? His brain.

↬ Drive/dreams ↫

He longs for a love like he sees in his parents. He recently thought that dream was coming true until it all shattered around him and now he’s left unsure as to what he wants out of life.

↬ Fears ↫

Spiders, red apples, magic.

↬ Likes ↫

Tourney, throwing parties, DJing/music, eating.

↬ Dislikes ↫

Bullies, super hot weather, brussel sprouts.

↬ Soft spot ↫

His nieces and nephews aka the children of the seven dwarves. Some of them are little people like their parents and Nolan is the first to defend any of them if they’re getting bullied.

↬ Depression ↫

While he doesn’t suffer from depression, his mental illness does send him into depressive funks from time to time which is something he’s still struggling to cope with.

↬ Inspiration ↫

His family is a huge driving force behind a lot of his decisions in life even if he doesn’t vocalize it.

↬ Role model ↫

Ben, without a doubt it’s always been Ben.

↬ Mental disorder ↫

Generalized Anxiety Disorder

↬ Habits ↫

He hums a lot while he’s focusing on something. Most of the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

r a t i n g s

(5 Stars means very high strength, 1 star means very low strength aka weak)

↬ Psychological strength ↫

It used to be higher but in recent years as his anxiety has increasingly taken over his mind I’m gonna say a 2.

↬ Physical strength ↫

4, he’s pretty damn strong but never really needs to show it off.

↬ Leadership ↫

4.5, Nolan loves being the President of the frat house and hopes he leads with dignity.

↬ Wisdom ↫

Nolan overthinks a lot and it might not always be for the best. I’d say average so 3.

↬ Intelligence ↫

Nolan’s an average student and has a lot of common sense, 4.

↬ Confidence ↫

3. He’s pretty confident with most decisions in his personal life but when it comes to dating he’s not great.

↬ Endurance ↫

I don’t know that Nolan has had to personally deal with many changes or hardships in his life. Other than the kids from the Isle moving to Auradon and his anxiety maybe? We’ll say 3 for now.

r e l a t i o n s h i p s

↬ Father ↫

Prince Florian

↬ Mother ↫

Snow White

↬ Siblings ↫

No siblings, he was spoiled rotten as an only child.

↬ Other relatives ↫

He gets along really well with his seven uncles and their families. He and Evie are victims of a generational conflict and therefore don’t get along.

↬ Enemies ↫

Grant LeGrand

↬ Rivals ↫

Evie, maybe Rose but not so much anymore.

↬ Friends ↫

Ben, Sloane, Mei, Henry, Chase, Kai, most of the guys in AWPHI.

↬ Best friend ↫

Ben forever and always.

↬ Love interest ↫

Miss Sloane hehe

↬ Marital status ↫

Single for now

↬ Children ↫

N/A

↬ Pets ↫

No pets but his mother is literal Snow White so there were always woodland creatures around him growing up.

p a s s - t i m e

↬ Hobbies ↫

Working out, he’s recently taken up cooking, listening to music.

↬ Talents ↫

Nolan doesn’t like to show it off but he sort of inherited his mom’s ability to interact with animals. He can’t sing but if he whistles a particular tune nearby animals will focus their attention on him. He hasn’t really practiced this ability much and keeps it mostly to himself.

↬ Sports ↫

He loves playing Tourney and anything sports related.

↬ Classes ↫

Nolan’s majoring in Biology and developing a minor in Environmental Studies.

↬ Occupation ↫

He’s a student for now, and doesn’t really need to work as his parents made sure he’d always be comfortable. He will probably end up working in the palace someday as a knight or something under King Ben.

h o m e l i f e

↬ Location ↫

Auradon

↬ House size ↫

The frat house is pretty big as it needs to house several students but Nolan’s room is the biggest since he’s the frat president.

↬ House type ↫

The frat house was built quite awhile ago but despite the building’s age it’s held up pretty well all things considered.

↬ Level of luxury ↫

It’s a standard home, not too luxurious cause I mean a bunch of frat boys live there.

↬ Outdoor description ↫

Big yards in the front and back, a pool and hammock in the backyard with a grill for summer time.

↬ Indoor description ↫

Open concept kitchen and living spaces on the main floor with all of the bedrooms upstairs.

↬ Bedroom description ↫

Nolan’s room is pretty simple. He has pictures of his family and friends scattered throughout and tries to keep it as neat as he can but he’s still a Dude at the end of the day.

L I F E S T O R Y

↬ Age 0-12 ↫

Nolan lived a pretty charmed life. He got everything and anything he wanted and loved his parents more for it. Befriending Ben happened as easily as breathing and the two became inseparable.

↬ Age 13-18 ↫

Some big changes happened during this period like the VKs moving to Auradon and Nolan’s anxiety coming into play towards the end of his teenage years. He also moved away from his parents which was an adjustment period for sure.

↬ Age 19-30 (or 25) ↫

Crippling anxiety, a broken heart, and an unclear future. Nolan feels lost. Hoping to find some guidance from his friends along the way and maybe eventually give love another try?

↬ Darkest secret ↫

N/A for now but will add something later.

#nolan: bio

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nerdygaymormon · 6 years ago

Note

Maybe you've answered this before, but why don't you just leave your church? Doesn't it bother you being part of something that rejects you? Don't you want love? I don't understand why gay people ever stay in that church.

I get these questions from time to time. Never sure what to make of them. I get that it’s unusual for a gay guy my age to still be part of church. I hope part of this is they like me and want me to be happier. But it also feels like they are looking down on me, idk.

I don’t have a short, simple answer, so strap in, it’s going to be a long ride.

1) I was a teenager in the 1980’s. It is hard to be gay now, but it was so bad back then. Being gay was shameful. The 80′s was the AIDS crisis, so mostly what I heard about being gay was death. There were no legal protections, society was against us. Actively hostile, bigoted statements were common. My own dad told homophobic jokes to big laughs. Coming out looked like I’d be condemning myself to a terrible life and strip all the good things from me.

Also, with no role models, I was having to work through what it means to be gay. I also did manage to get ahold of a gay porn magazine (this is long before internet was a thing). I was crazy to think I could hide it. I shared a room with three brothers so no privacy. Despite my denials, my parents knew this was mine and they were so upset. My dad now tells me he wishes he sent me to conversion therapy once he learned I had this magazine. Can you imagine?

2) I grew up believing in this church, which included the terrible things taught about me as a gay person. At age 19 when my bishop challenged me to pray about going on a mission, I instead prayed to know if God could possibly love me (which is really sad that a kid could grow up in church and not know that). I felt love radiate across my body as a voice in my ear said “You are not broken.” That experience sustained me for a long time

3) I went on a mission in the 1990’s. If you haven’t been on a mission, it’s probably a surprise that it can be a relief. There’s no pressure to date. I could form close bonds with other men, and even though these are non-romantic relationships, they are intensely close.

4) I was still in the closet when I went to the church schools in Rexburg & Provo. At the end of my first semester, my roommate came on to me and let me feel him up and stuff. I went to sleep thinking maybe the two of us could leave the church, transfer to a different school, say goodbye to my family and we could have a life together. It would be a huge sacrifice for both of us and I thought he felt the same, but the next morning he turned me in to our bishop. I thought I was going to get kicked out of school, be sent home in disgrace, maybe disciplined out of the church, but instead I was put on probation and had to stay the summer in Rexburg. I was heartbroken and swore off love and focused on school. At the end of the summer, to my surprise the bishop made me the elders quorum president.

That first roommate, we were best friends. He is Bi and decided a life with a woman would be easier, and considering it was the 1990′s, he was correct. He left school a few days later, met a woman and got married. I hate how he ended things, but I don’t blame him for the future he chose for his life.

5) BYU in Provo was my backup school, and reluctantly it’s where I transferred to. It turned out that I genuinely liked BYU with 2 exceptions, the severe restrictions the Honor Code placed on LGBT students (which was the same as at the Rexburg campus), and the fierceness with which the Honor Code Office sought to enforce those restrictions. Occasionally I’d hear rumors of sting operations they had done to catch gay students. There was this low-level fear always of getting caught whilst a student in Provo. My roommates also expressed their dislike of anything remotely gay. Even though I kept the rules, I didn’t dare tell anyone that I’m gay because the potential cost was high.

While at BYU I had a major faith crisis. I no longer believed a lot of the truth claims of the church, but I wasn’t about to lose all that tuition money. I stuck it out. So not only was I pretending to be straight, I also had to act as though nothing about church bothered me.

6) The same voice that told me I am not broken would occasionally tell me that it’s okay to pursue relationships. It gave me great hope. I still get that message. Being a good Mormon, I thought this meant that somehow God was going to change the church. In the temple I’d hear that it’s not good for man to be alone and the law of chastity was presented in a way that could include me if I was married to a husband (the temple says no sex except “with your husband or wife to whom you’re legally and lawfully wedded”).

7) After BYU, I should have come out and gotten on with life, but I didn’t. My first job was working for a Mormon boss. A landlord who is LDS gave me a deal on rent. Coming out seemed like it would disrupt my life in really negative ways. Plus YSA Wards were a source of friends and support network.

8) In my 30’s I was no longer in YSA wards, and the world was getting better for gay people. The fight for gay marriage was in full swing, and so many of the people in my life were very opposed to it. It bothered me that the church was so opposed and fought gay marriage because in my head, it was a way for me to follow God’s promptings and pursue a relationship.

Being a Mormon is very much an identity. It’s hard to peel off. It’s my social network, it’s what much of family life revolves around, It’s a belief system and way of viewing the world. it’s a map of what one’s goals in life should be, and so on. Staying in the closet kept the rest of my world intact.

I know you’re thinking wtf, you’re a grown man, own your life!!! I grew up in an unstable family situation (we had many financial troubles and moved frequently), so I crave stability. Remaining in the closet and in the church were keys to maintaining that stability.

9) Squashing all my romantic and sexual feelings also shuts down most other feelings. I spent most of my 20’s & 30’s feeling numb, like I was watching life but not a part of it. I spent those years wishing I was dead, that a bus would hit me or a major disease would strike. Those kinds of deaths would end my misery and also be okay for my family because they wouldn’t have to know I’m gay. I recognize now how messed up that is.

10) The great source of happiness in those years was being an uncle. I’m the oldest of 7 children, my siblings had lots of babies born in those years. The joys of being an uncle only increased the pressure to stay in the closet and in the church because if I didn’t, my only source of happiness might be taken away.

11) I finally reached the point where I was tired of going through the motions of having a life. I was ready to come out. Rather than make some grand announcement, I decided to be honest with anyone who asked about my life. When someone tried to set me up with their friend, I would ask if she had a brother. As these sorts of situations came up, I was coming out to people one by one.

I didn’t exactly “come out” to my family. I figured since my parents had found the gay porn mag when I was a teen, and then gay porn malware on the computer when I was college student, they probably already knew (and they did, but were in denial). Also, I thought coming out would be saying I’m not trustworthy and an awful person for having pretended to be something I wasn’t for so long (not true, but that’s how I thought of it).

12) I’m such a late bloomer that I sometimes am embarrassed about it, especially now that so many people come out in their 20′s and even as teenagers. At the first Pride parade I attended, someone told me that we all come out when it’s right for us, and this was my time. I think that’s true.

13) Most of my adult life in church was being pianist in Primary. Shortly after I started telling people I’m gay is when I was called to be in the stake young men presidency. My stake president says he looked over at me playing piano one day and thought, “that man has much more to offer.” I wonder if it’s because I was more confident, my identities were less in conflict than they’d been in the past, I wasn’t afraid and hiding.

As stake young men president, I made sure I knew by name and something about every youth in the stake. I wanted them to know they were seen, they were heard, they were loved. Teens go through such hard things and I wanted to be a kind, supportive person in their life. Most youth don’t know who the stake youth leaders are, but they all knew me. Several told me about hard things in their life and some even came out to me. Parents of gay teens would come speak to me and I’d let them know life in church is hard and unfair, ways they could help support their teen, and prepared them that their child’s likely path would be out of the church. I felt like I bloomed in this calling and made a difference.

14) In 2015 marriage became legal for same-sex couples across the USA due to a Supreme Court ruling. I thought that finally the church would have to come to terms with it and accept it. But then came the November policy banning the children of gay couples from being members. It felt like a punch in the gut and I nearly walked away. I was still stake young men president and weighed whether the difference I made in this calling was worth putting up with how church clearly didn’t want me.

15) To help my parents buy a house, I had a bunch of their debt put into my name and I lived in the house with them. At the time it seemed a good way to avoid the loneliness of being on my own. But living with them also made walking away from the church tricky.

16) A month later I hit the 3-year mark of serving in the stake young men’s program, I was released from that and called to be stake executive secretary. My stake president told me that anyone can make appointments, but he wanted my unique viewpoint in all the highest councils of the stake. In this calling I occasionally meet general authorities and I speak with them about being gay in the church. My stake President recently joked that he has twice been a counselor in a stake presidency and now is a stake president, and in those years he’s met many general authorities, yet I have way more impact on them than he ever has.

17) Shortly after getting this new calling, in 2016 I started my tumblr blog. Eventually I used the blog as a way to examine, explore and record what it’s like to be gay in the LDS church. In some ways this blog is one giant pep talk to myself.

18) In 2017 my blog exploded, one of my posts went viral. It’s almost like God got tired of waiting on me, now I was out to everyone who knows me, and many more.

All of a sudden I had so many hurting Mormon LGBT people contacting me, most were teens and twenty-something’s. I’ve tried to help them, to affirm them. In many ways it feels like the years as stake young men president working with teens, the years I spent developing a spiritual independence, the studying & thinking about how being gay can work with the gospel, the fears & worries that are part of being in the closet, all of that prepared me for this.

19) Later in 2017 my mental health dived. I became suicidal. I started therapy. I finally had to face how harmed I’ve been by my time in church. I also had to admit I will never be enough in this church, I can never reach the goals & purpose of life as laid out by the church,. My therapist helped me see that I need another framework for what a successful life looks like and what would make for a joyful life.

In 2018 I was still in therapy and was diagnosed with social anxiety disorder, which partly explains why coming out and leaving the church were so difficult. The major driving motivation of this disorder is wanting to not disappoint people.

20) My therapist says I feel things more deeply than most people, but because I’d pushed down my feelings so long, it’s actually a bit scary to feel so much. I also started dating and trying to get gay friends. These sorts of big changes were hard for me. The psychologist said, in an amused tone, that I fully examine a path before I’m willing to take a step down it, meaning I’m cautious and slow to get going, but am certain when I begin of where I’m going.

21) Some of my family openly embraces me as gay and loves me no matter what. Some make their love and access to their children conditional on my being in church.

22) I thought 2018 would be the year I leave the church. There’s a personal reason I haven’t; I feel there’s one more thing to do, a friend whom I can help. That I came ahead to pave the way for this friend.

I know this all sounds crazy, talking about a voice telling me it’s okay to have gay relationships or that I have some missions in life to accomplish. That’s part of faith, I guess.

23) It’s unfair to say I’m still attending church for my friend. First, I don’t want him to feel any pressure. Second, it’s my decision, not his. I also am working on paying off debt so I can more easily live on my own, I’ve joined Affirmation and met a lot of LGBT Mormons/post-Mormons and feel like there’s something of a potential support group/friendships there. I’m thinking of changing jobs, even moving to a different university. In other words, I’m laying the groundwork to make any shift more smooth. Whether I take a breather from church or not, these are good things to do.

24) I’m in my 40′s and can see that in some important ways I’ve lived a stunted life. But I’m also able to use my voice to speak up for LGBT individuals inside the church, to try to make this little corner of church kinder and more receptive.

25) I can’t even imagine what you’re thinking of me. A hypocrite, someone who stays with an organization that contributed to my own mental health crisis. Someone too afraid to live. I can’t undo my past and all that lost time. I’ve made a lot of progress and am moving forward. I also believe and hope that things I share on this blog and things I say in my local church help LGBT members.

Maybe you can understand, maybe you can’t, why my life went so differently from yours. I’m certain you won’t agree with a number of decisions I made, but they were mine to make and they explain where I’m at now.

#David gets personal

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 5 years ago

Note

Do you have any hcs about Dom and Pyro's family backgrounds, how they got their powers, etc? Any shipping dynamic headcanons? No reason, I just figured you might and I'd like to hear them!

You have opened Pandora’s box, my friend, because I have so, so many head-canons.

I’m afraid this is basically all Pyro. He’s the character that I really obsess over in that ship. Avalanche is cool, too, but I’m all about Pyro. Maybe someday I’ll do Avalanche head-canons after I think more about his background. But for now, I’m going to rant about Pyro in ridiculous detail.

Background:

Pyro’s Marvel bio only mentions an unnamed grandmother under relatives, so I head-canon that he was raised by his grandmother. His parents were both teens that quickly abandoned him – his dad before he was born, and his mother a few months afterwards. Adult St. John doesn’t really feel any resentment or angst about it. Since they abandoned him as a baby, he doesn’t take it personally – they just didn’t want to be parents, and he can understand that. (He sure as fuck doesn’t want to raise any kids, either). His grandmother was strict, and he got yelled at a lot, but it didn’t really cross the line into abusive. Little St. John often felt like he was being punished for someone else’s crimes, but he also grew up feeling fairly secure that “Gran” loved him and would take care of him. He was born in Sydney (according to his bio), but he grew up out in the countryside north of Sydney. They were lower middle-class, sometimes dipping down into poverty if Gran didn’t get enough hours at her job, but not dirt-poor.

St. John wasn’t especially interested in fire until his powers began to develop in adolescence, then he couldn’t help but be drawn to it. He could, on some level, “feel” it in a way he could never quite describe. Gran banned candles from the house because St. John couldn’t resist reaching out to touch the flame, marveling at how he’d never get burned. He eventually discovered that he could make fire actually DO things – leap off the wick and fly around, form into shapes. Despite being a fairly outgoing, impulsive kid, he keeps this as a “fun” little secret. For a while he was convinced that he was a fairy changeling, and that Gran was secretly a witch, and he’d get pulled off on some kind of magical adventure. Until he first saw a news report that used the word “mutant.”

I’d like to give St. John a good relationship with his grandmother into adulthood, but my mind automatically jumped to an angsty head-canon, and I had to run with that. When St. John was about 16, their house was threatened by a massive wildfire. They were late to evacuate, mostly because St. John had been off in the bush fucking around like a dumb teenage boy, wanting to get close to the fire. When he gets back, Gran is frantically trying to drag him into the car, and he is arguing with her that they can stay. He’s confident that he can use his powers to direct the fire around their house so they won’t lose everything, but only if he stays. So he finally shows his grandmother his powers. It’s the first time he’s told anyone. His grandmother is already in full-blown panic mode, she’s been trying to track down her grandson all day, terrified that they are going to burn to death, and now suddenly he’s not her grandson anymore. He’s a creature. He’s one of those unnatural creatures that she heard about on the news, and she just can’t handle it. So she does something that she later never forgives herself for. She gets into the car and drives away, leaving St. John behind. After driving for about 30 minutes, she snaps out of it, and realizes what she is doing. She tries to go back, but the roads are clogged with people evacuating, and the police aren’t letting anyone go towards the fire, even on foot.

Back at the house, St. John gathers a few sentimental possessions, and a few valuable items to sell (anything he can fit into a backpack), and then spitefully lets the house burn. He tries to sit right in the middle of it while it goes up in flames (for maximum teenage drama), but realizes quickly that even if flames won’t hurt him, he can’t breathe smoke. He also sends the fire towards neighboring houses, really enjoying how powerful he feels, and reveling in the destruction. He doesn’t kill anyone, and he doesn’t want to (he’s not in that mindset yet), he’s confident that everyone has evacuated. Eventually he sets a barn on fire, and hears the horses that were left behind screaming in terror. That’s enough to snap him out of it, and he just wanders around for a while, stealing any cash or valuables he finds in abandoned houses until he makes his way to the coast. Then he jumps on a cargo ship that needs extra deck hands, and works his way around Oceania, pretending to be older than he is, having adventures, and generally being an annoying little dumbass that the crew tolerates because he works hard and is brave in a pinch. A few years later he comes back to Australia and is annoyed to discover that he’s been declared dead, and has to jump through a bunch of administrative hoops to be “alive” again. He never seeks out his grandmother, nor has any desire to see or speak to her again. He can forgive his parents, but her abandonment really was a personal rejection of him, and it hurts deeply. It largely sets his views that humans are not to be trusted, and that they will turn on him in an instant if they find out what he is. (Not that Gran is responsible for his many crimes later. She’s not. He makes his own choices.)

After getting a degree (his bio actually lists college level education), he starts working as a journalist and traveling around Oceania again, and banging out romance novels on the side. He uses his powers only in emergencies, generally to save his own skin, but occasionally to help others, if he thinks he can get away with it. He probably starts a few fires as well, mostly by accident. He tries not to be too obvious, but still winds up associated with enough strange fire-related phenomena that Mystique eventually tracks him down and makes him an offer. He’s not really a “true believer” in mutant supremacy, but he thinks that humans will turn on mutantkind eventually, and he’d rather “get them” first. Especially since it’s getting harder and harder to hide his powers. Mostly, though, he’s in the Brotherhood for money and adventure, his two favorite things.

Sexuality: Because of the whole “Byrne imagined Pyro as gay” thing, I absolutely head-canon him as gay. I don’t care if he sleeps with dozens of women and declares himself straight in Marauders, he’s gay as fuck. He’s also deeply closeted – not in denial or self-loathing, just very private about it. Since he appeared as an adult in the 80’s, I imagine he grew up in a time when “gay” wasn’t something that could ever be openly discussed (ignoring Marvel’s sliding time-scale here). It would easily get him fired or ruin his career, and with the rough crowds he hung out with, it could even get him killed. He tends to have anonymous one-night stands, or short affairs, old habit from when gay relationships could not be open. He has no qualms about sleeping with married men, since back in the day there was no chance they’d ever leave their wives (and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?). I’m afraid I’m making him sound like a negative gay stereotype here, but basically Pyro is a selfish jerk, and he’d have no qualms about sleeping with married women if he were straight or bi. He does occasionally sleep with women, just to keep up an appearance of straightness, but he spends way more time flirting and then making excuses to not take them home. He wound up channeling a lot of his feelings into his novels – giving the female main characters the kind of grandiose romances that he could never have. He’d never admit to this, though, he’ll claim that he just writes trashy romance because it sells well and it’s easy. Avalanche knows and completely accepts him, although they never discuss it openly. The rest of the Brotherhood/Freedom Force have a vague idea, no matter how much Pyro might try to perform heterosexuality. It’s generally a “don’t ask, don’t tell” situation with them. As long as he’s not open about it, they’ll pretend not to notice. (And as times change, I think most of them just don’t care).

With Avalanche – honestly, I can enjoy their relationship as platonic best buddies, or as a couple. If they are buddies, I imagine Pyro kinda pines a bit for his straight friend who put him in the “mate zone,” but mostly just enjoys his company. If they are a couple, then Avalanche is definitely bi (he has a wife in his bio), and was largely in denial about it until he got dragged out of the closet by his good-looking, chatty, obnoxious Australian team-mate. Avalanche tends to be the quiet, reserved one, while Pyro drags him out to bars and keeps up this constant patter that just becomes pleasant background noise. Dominic pretends that he finds it annoying, but he really likes the companionship, and having someone lavish so much attention on him. (He misses it desperately after Pyro dies.) Pyro is a huge flirt, and is also the one most likely to cheat. But mostly, he just enjoys driving Dominic wild with jealousy, then taking him home for intense make-up sex. After years of basically being the secret “fling on the side,” Pyro actually really enjoys Dominic being openly possessive of him. Dominic probably didn’t realize he had feelings for St. John beyond “good buddy” until he was dying (or possibly until he was dead, if you want maximum angst.)

As a writer – St. John is a good writer, sometimes even a great writer. He’s not a literary genius, but he doesn’t really want to be. He just wants to have fun. If the books sell, he’s reasonably happy, although he hates it when he feels like a book isn’t up to par. Even writing trashy romance, he had to bend to publisher demands and couldn’t stray too far from the formulas designed to sell. In a fit of frustration, he once wrote a parody of his own work, with all the insane plot twists that he was forbidden from publishing, and then posted it online as fan-fic under the pen-name “Firebrand.” It’s the most popular fan-fic in his small online fandom, but no one has figured out yet that he actually wrote it. He’ll always claim that he writes to make money, but he truly loves it, and can’t really stop. He’s been writing stories since he was a child, an activity that Gran encouraged since it kept him quiet and out of trouble. He enjoys reading other romance authors, but he absolutely despises Nicholas Sparks, because Sparks (in his mind) is a pretentious wanker who thinks he’s too good for the romance genre.

As a team-mate – Pyro is an absolute vicious, callous bastard if you face him in battle, and if you’re a bystander. He doesn’t hesitate to kill if that’s what the job calls for. But if you’re on his team, then you’re his “mate” (unless you give him a reason to dislike you), and he’ll be friendly, banter, drink with you, watch your back in battle and expect you to watch his. He has no problem working with the X-Men as a Marauder, because hey, they’re on the same team now! They’re all in the same boat, both literally and figuratively, so it doesn’t matter that they fought each other in the past. He may betray them at some point, or have his own agenda (I don’t know where the book is going with him), but in my head-canon, he’s just going with the flow. The X-Men are letting him basically be a pirate, so what the hell? He generally doesn’t like to think too much about what he’s doing when he’s on a team, whether the Brotherhood or Freedom Force. A job is a job, and he tries to turn his mind off about it. He’s pretty comfortable just being hired muscle, and has no desire to lead or be in charge of anything. He doesn’t mind following orders, as long as the leader treats him well enough. I’d like to imagine that all of the Marauders will eventually get tangled up in scheming and intrigue between the Hell-fire club factions – except Pyro, who has no idea what the fuck is going on, and no desire to know.

Marauders Pyro – I love him, he is a trashfire disaster. I think he is being a bit wilder than he has been in the past because he isn’t really over dying and coming back to life. He’s having, not a mid-life, but a post-death crisis. I mean, he literally got a skull tattooed onto his face. Which seems pretty significant when you think about how the Legacy Virus wore him down until he was basically looking at his own death every time he looked in the mirror. (But he’ll say he just did it because it looks cool.) I don’t think Pyro minds the idea of dying (he’s pretty upbeat about it in a Freedom Force mission when he thinks he and Mystique are about to get gunned down), but the Legacy Virus was hard on him, because it was so slow and inevitable. It was slow and agonizing and (in his mind) undignified, and he was basically staring down the barrel of it for years while his strength slowly failed - no longer able to control his powers, no longer able to be of any use to his team-mates. He hated it. He hated the idea of dying in a hospital bed. He wanted to get his head shot off on a battlefield somewhere, not die in bed. And now that he’s alive and healthy for the first time in years, he’s just reveling in it, and trying to live life the fullest.

Other random head-canons:

Pyro is terrible at video games. Terrible. Again, because he showed up as an adult in the 80’s, I imagine him growing up without them, but even with the sliding time-scale I don’t think he really got into video games as a child. He had a pretty low-tech house-hold with Gran. He’ll play Smash Brothers with the other Marauders just to hang out, but he has no idea what he’s doing. He just mashes buttons, and every now and then manages to knock someone off the stage with a lucky shot (which is infuriating to whoever gets knocked out). He routinely forgets which character he is. Once he “played” through a round with his controller unplugged and didn’t notice. (Kitty won $50 off Bobby in that bet.)

Keeping with the low-tech theme, he tends to write by hand in spiral-bound notebooks, old habit left from his journalist days. He’ll write an entire novel by hand, then edit as he types it up, a laborious process that often involves a lot of booze.

You can never offend Pyro with Australia jokes. He knows all the Australia jokes, and he’ll make them before you do. He sometimes uses obscure Australian slang to mess with people, and sometimes just completely makes shit up to see what he can get away with.

He doesn’t actually like Vegemite all that much, but it’s a very nostalgic taste and it’s hard to get outside of Australia, so sometimes he finds himself absolutely craving it. When Avalanche commented that Vegemite was disgusting, Pyro ate an entire jar with a spoon while staring him down the entire time. He was starting to feel really sick by the end of that, but he had a point to prove, damn it.

Pyro is smarter than he often acts. This doesn’t stop him from being an impulsive dumbass. He’s fairly literate, and can quote famous authors while also smashing an empty beer can against his forehead. He likes to read when he’s got downtime and nothing else to do. He’s especially fond of Jane Austen (because she’s witty) and Wuthering Heights, because it is a novel about horrible, dysfunctional people self-destructing and taking everyone else down with them, and he lives for that drama.

He secretly watches soap operas and dramas, they play up to his interest in romance. His deep dark secret is being a major fan of the 1960’s supernatural soap opera Dark Shadows. If ever caught watching it, he’ll flip it off and claim he was watching the most disgusting porn imaginable, because that is less embarrassing to him than watching Dark Shadows.

I think that’s it for now. I have too many thoughts about Pyro. Thank you for giving me a reason to write this all down. Bless you if you’ve actually read this far.

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