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marvelmando · 5 years

Text

tempest [p.parker x o.c.] - six

notes: this is my longest chapter yet. when i was initially writing this, i intended this story to be uploaded to wattpad, so most of my chapters ended up being around 3-4k words, but this obviously takes the cake.

don’t forget, if you’d like to be added to the taglist, shoot me an ask or message, or reply to this chapter!

contains: canon-typical violence, mention of dead parents, angst

pairing: peter parker + fem! o.c.

word count: 5.8k

previous chapter next chapter tempest masterlist

THAT NEXT MONDAY, MIDTOWN TECH WAS BUZZING WITH SPIDER-SPIRIT. Everyone was whispering about the events in Washington—whether it was about the Decathlon team taking the championship or Spider-Man saving the day. Some students even wore t-shirts and buttons with the Spider-Man insignia on them. Where they'd found such merchandise was completely lost on Marin.

Peter was not expelled, much to Flash's dismay, but a genius decision to try and skip school did land him in after-school detention. And Marin, with nothing better to do, joined him in his misery. It appeared that Michelle had a similar idea, choosing to sit in on the punishment and sketch the designated supervisor, who looked absolutely bored out of his mind as he surfed the internet on the computer.

"So," Captain America said on an old box TV, sitting down on a back-facing chair. "You got detention. You screwed up." Glancing up from her own drawing, Marin saw Peter sigh heavily and clench his jaw in frustration. Captain America was still lecturing, and Marin abandoned her drawing as she noticed Peter's patience deteriorate.

Suddenly, Peter stood from his desk and snatched his backpack forcibly. As he marched out of the classroom, the coach called out indifferently, "Hey, where you going? Get back here," without moving a muscle.

Marin followed to scramble out of her seat, giving her goodbyes to Michelle and the coach.

"Pete!" She jogged after him. He stopped at a row of lockers and crouched to the ground.

Then he picked the lockers like a garage door, grabbing something from the hidden compartment underneath. "I've got an idea, Mare." He told her, and she flushed at the nickname. Besides 'Rain', no one had ever cared enough to give her one. It sent flutters through her stomach, and she didn't know how to process that reaction. But she didn't have the time to, because Peter was thrusting out a glass bottle at her. She took it, reading the label taped on, 'Web Fluid'.

"Okay..." she trailed off, clutching the vial of web fluid. "What's the plan?"

+++

Peter finished catching her up as they traveled back to the apartment. He'd explained that in D.C. when he’d hacked into the suit, he'd also disabled a subsystem called "the Training Wheels Protocol". This was what he'd told her the night they returned to Queens, but now he told her that Karen—the feminine voice that belonged to the suit's AI—might be able to help him identify the dealers from the night of Liz's party.

May had left a note saying she'd gone out for the afternoon, so they didn't have to worry about her overhearing their scheming. In the safety of his room, Peter pulled on his mask. "Hey, Karen, what's up?"

Marin assumed that Karen was speaking to Peter from an earpiece inside the suit, because she didn't hear a response before Peter answered, "Listen, I was wondering if you could help me. I'm trying to figure out who the guys under the bridge were that night, but I mean, I can only kind of remember part of a license plate."

A pause as Karen responded. "Footage?" Peter asked.

"Everything?"

"Like, all the time?"

Peter threw his hands up, tossing his pen. "Baby Monitor Protocol," he muttered grumpily under his breath, causing Marin to giggle. "Yeah, of course, it is. Um, yeah, just roll it back to last Friday."

"No, no, no—no, no, no. This is me just messing around. Go... later in the day, later in the day." He said flippantly. "No, no, no, no, no! That's definitely... no. That's definitely not what we wanted to watch. Just..." he waved his hand frantically, and Marin wondered what he was shown to make him sound so embarrassed.

"Fast-forward to the arms deal." Peter stood from his chair to pace the room. "Okay, the two on the right, who are they?" He put his hands on his hips. "Nothing?"

Another pause. "Well, let's pay him a visit." He stepped toward his bed, where Marin sat next to the rest of his suit. "Uh, yeah."

Taking off his mask, Peter filled Marin in. "We've got an identification on the buyer, we're gonna go track him down."

Just as Marin was about to acquiesce, the front door clicked open. "I'm home!" May announced, followed by the rustling sounds of paper grocery bags. "I found this really awesome eggplant lasagna recipe I want to try!"

Peter looked to Marin, who grimaced. "Maybe tomorrow?"

Marin shrugged, then grinned. "Tomorrow it is."

+++

"Shouldn't we tell Ned about this Aaron guy?" Marin had asked the night before as they munched on their delivered Thai food.

Peter had only shaken his head. "Nah, he'll just say he has school stuff to do."

Oh, yeah. And they'd skipped school to follow the buyer, too. Marin and Spider-Man approached the parking garage where the suit's drone followed Aaron Davis out of the local grocery store.

Peter crawled onto the roof and Marin casually walked along the concrete walls. Keeping her presence hidden wasn't much of a concern—her identity wouldn't be compromised as long as she refrained from using her powers in front of anyone. The garage was practically empty except for a few parked cars, and a man in a white shirt approaching his own vehicle. As he went to pack away his grocery bags, Spider-Man leaped down from the ceiling, webbing the buyer's hand to the open trunk. Aaron Davis winced as the spider drone scanned him with a flash of red light, presumably to confirm that it was, in fact, the right criminal.

"Remember me?" Spider-Man startled Marin with the rumbling timbre of his technologically-altered voice. Spider-Man walked towards Aaron with large, fast steps, and the man became visibly frightened by the approaching figure.

"We need information, and you're gonna give it to us now." Spider-Man's metallic voice demanded. Marin stepped out away from the wall with her arms crossed as she stared down Aaron.

Aaron Davis looked nervously between Marin and Spider-Man. "All right, chill," he stuttered.

"Come on!"

Aaron faltered, narrowing his eyes at the masked hero. "What happened to your voice?"

"What do you mean, what happened to my voice?"

"I heard you by the bridge, I know what a girl sounds like." Aaron answered, causing Marin to snicker lightly beside him.

"I'm not a girl, I'm a boy!" Spider-Man corrected. "I mean, I'm a—I'm a man!"

Aaron shook his head, resuming loading his trunk with groceries. "I don't care what you are, a boy, a girl..."

"I'm not a girl, I'm a man!" Peter insisted angrily. "C'mon, man. Look, who is selling these weapons? I need to know! Give me names, or else!"

Aaron stared at Spider-Man, and suddenly slammed the trunk shut, startling Peter. Marin shook her head at his jittery reaction.

"You ain't ever done this before, huh?" Aaron asked, then turned to Marin. "What 'bout your girl? You ever done this?"

"Not his girl," Marin corrected, nonchalantly, taking a menacing step forward until she was a couple feet from the criminal. "But you will give us those names, Aaron Davis." His eyes widened a tiny bit, realizing that they knew his name. Marin tilted her head mockingly, tapping her chin. "Or, I'm sure the police would love to hear all about yours..."

Aaron stared Marin in the eye, the only sign of the effect the threat had on him was the visible gulp and the slight sheen growing on his brow. Still, he hesitated.

Marin didn't break the stare or her determination, but Spider-Man sighed, impatient. "Deactivate Interrogation Mode," he muttered to Karen, the drone flying to reattach itself to his chest. "Look, man," Spider-Man pleaded, his voice back to normal. Aaron's eyes followed Marin as she walked around the car to stop at Peter's side. "These guys are selling weapons that are crazy dangerous. They can't just be out on the streets. Look, if one of them can just cut Delmar's bodega in half—"

The mention of Delmar's was what ripped Aaron's gaze from Marin. "You know Delmar's?"

"Yeah, best sandwich in Queens."

"Sub Haven's pretty good."

"Eh, it's too much bread."

"I like bread."

"C'mon man, please."

Aaron went silent, looking off into the middle distance with his brows creased. Peter was taking it as a sign that Aaron wasn't going to budge and began to walk away, grumbling to Karen, "Stupid Interrogation Mode. Karen, don't ever do that again." Marin watched Spider-Man retreat, baffled.

"The other night," Aaron addressed Marin, causing Spider-Man to stop and turn around. "You told that dude 'if you shoot somebody, shoot me'." Marin nodded affirmatively, tilting her chin up and folding her arms across her chest. "It's pretty ballsy, especially for an unarmed little girl. I don't want those weapons in this neighborhood, I got a nephew who live here."

Marin took a heated step forward, ready to attest to the 'little girl' comment, but Spider-Man walked up to the car and spoke first. "Who are these guys? What can you tell us about the guy with the wings?"

"Other than he's a psychopath dressed like a demon, nothing. I don't know who he is or where he is."

Peter sighed, turning to lean his back against Aaron's car, tilting his head back to rest it on the roof. Marin looked at his unprofessional behavior with slight disdain—she may have been a terrible X-Man, but at least she knew how to compose herself during an interrogation.

Aaron shifted his gaze back at Marin. "I do know where he's gonna be."

This piqued Spider-Man's interest. "Really?"

"Yeah, this crazy dude I used to work with, he's supposed to be doing a deal with them."

"Yes! Yes." Spider-Man giggled delightfully to himself, and began to walk away, but turned while walking backward, "Thank—"

"Spider-Man, we still—"

"Hey, hey. Hey, hey! I didn't tell you where; you don't have a location." Aaron pointed out.

Spider-Man jogged back. "Right, of course. Yeah, my bad. Silly. Just... yeah." he leaned on the roof of the car eagerly. "Where is it?"

"Can I give you some advice?"

"Hmm?" Peter tilted his head.

"Your girl needs to show you how to be better at this part of the job." Aaron gestured around them as if referring to the interrogation as a whole.

"Not his girl." Marin corrected again, but it went unnoticed. "And for the record, I'm fifteen!"

"I don't understand," Spider-Man said, folding his arms across his chest and narrowing his bionic eyes. "I'm intimidating."

"You're really not." Marin shook her head.

Aaron nodded in agreement. "Staten Island ferry, eleven."

"Oh, that's soon!" Peter exhaled. Pointing at Aaron's webbed hand, he began to walk away. "Hey, that's gonna dissolve in two hours."

Aaron shook his head furiously. "No, no, no, no. Come fix this."

"Two hours—you deserve that!"

"I got ice cream in here!"

"You deserve that, you're a criminal! Bye, Mr. Criminal!"

Aaron looked hopefully at Marin, who shrugged unhelpfully, and hurried after Spider-Man.

Climbing onto Peter's back was much less awkward this time around. They arrived at the Staten Island ferry terminal just as a missive orange ferry pulled out of the dock. "Hang on tight!" Peter warned her before taking a running leap and spreading his arms, revealing the glider wings attached to the underarms of his suit. They flew through the air, and Marin was surprised at the amount of control Spider-Man still had, even with another body attached to his.

Landing and clinging onto the hull of the ferry, Spider-Man crawled up to take a peek through one of the Saloon deck's windows. He located one of the dealers sitting at a bench, and said, "Okay, Karen, activate Enhanced Reconnaissance Mode."

Marin watched over his shoulder as the dealer and a man seated behind him conversed, assuming that Peter was able to listen in. Eventually, he whispered, "It's the guy from the bridge, right? Who's that other guy?" A brief pause passed. "I can't talk right now; I'll call her back." Marin furrowed her eyebrows. Sensing her confusion, Peter informed, "May. Hey dronie, keep an eye on that guy. We can't let anybody get away this time."

With the dealers on the move, Peter advanced up the side of the ferry, swinging them up onto the Hurricane deck, then onto the roof of the Bridge deck. Marin climbed off, and Peter filled her in on their short conversation. They carefully approached the edge of the roof and counted four men standing idly around on the platform of the Main deck.

"Who's the guy on the left?" Peter asked Karen, referring to the man leaned casually against an orange support beam. Peter waited for her to respond so he could relay the information to Marin. "No, Karen, stop it with the Instant Kill already!" Then, to Marin, he said, "That one's Mac Gargan."

Marin raised her eyebrows at him, but he didn't seem to notice. Even Marin could hear as the dealer from earlier approached Mac Gargan and said to him boldly, "White pickup truck."

"Dronie, scan the ship for a white pickup truck." He instructed. "Oh, this is too perfect. We got the weapons, buyers, and sellers all in one place."

Peter was suddenly startled into action. "No, no, no. No, no, don't answer!" He pressed against his ear frantically. "Uh—uh, I'm actually at school? Ah—okay," Peter sounded in pain. "Uh, I'm kind of in the middle of something right now, Mr. Stark?" He emphasized to Marin; whose eyes widened.

Suddenly, the ferry horn sounded, and Peter panicked. "Uh, I'm at... band... practice?" Marin glanced down at the dealers, as one of them was handing Gargan a set of keys, a set that Marin assumed belonged to the white pickup. "I gotta go—uh, end call! I'll take those!" Spider-Man reached out and snagged the keys with a web. "Yoink!" He said and hopped onto the Main deck.

Marin scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Really?" She dangled from the Hurricane deck, landing on the Bridge deck. "Who says 'yoink', anymore?"

After judging the distance from the Bridge deck down to the Main deck, Marin leaped through to catch herself on the railing of the Saloon deck's balcony, before vaulting onto the Main deck, where Spider-Man had just slammed Mac Gargan into the hull of the ferry. In front of her, the dealer from the night of Liz's party charged at Spider-Man, but he easily dodged him.

The dealer stumbled, the fancy electric weaponry attached to his fist getting caught in a barrier gate, where Spider-Man stuck it with a sheet of web fluid. The weapon looked like an over-sized Taser gun. In her head, she called the dealer Blue Guy, if only for the color of the electricity crackling within the device on his wrist.

As she was going to help Peter, Marin's feet were yanked out from underneath her. Hitting the floor, Marin twisted in her attacker's grasp and kicked her leg up and out of his grip, sending it forcefully into the sensitive apex between his thighs. She scrambled for purchase, finding Spider-Man unbothered as he watched the trapped Blue Guy struggle against the webs, and was replacing a vial of web fluid in his wrist shooters. From under the cargo hold, a man charged at the teens, but Spider-Man calmly launched a web grenade at him, trapping him to the wall. Marin nodded at Peter, who returned the gesture.

A banging coming from the same direction caught Marin and Peter's attention. They both turned to see a man bashing in someone's head against a white van. The man then caught sight of the teens and stared them down with a growing smirk. They were about to run after him when a voice stopped them in their tracks. "Freeze, FBI!"

At least a dozen agents dressed in civilian clothing emerged from every entrance, all with weapons drawn and aimed at Marin and Spider-Man, who whipped their hands up simultaneously.

"Wait, what do you mean 'FBI'?!" Peter exclaimed. "I know what FBI means, but what are they doing here?!"

The sound of metal bursting caused everyone's attention to shift to the cargo hold, where a ginormous set of metal wings erupted from inside the white van. It was a man, wearing a mask with glowing green eyes and carrying a blaster in his hands—and he was flying straight toward them.

"Get out of the way, get out of the way!" Marin screamed at the FBI agents who began shooting at the approaching figure, but they didn't stop. The winged Vulture-looking guy shot a blast from his gun, the shot barely missed the top of her head as it flew into a gate behind her. As the Vulture guy got even closer, he grabbed a car with the mechanical talons attached to his feet, chucking it at Peter, Marin, and the agents.

Marin tackled into the side of the agent, moving him out of the car's trajectory—but the car hit Peter instead, sending him flying back into a support beam. Hovering above the ferry, the Vulture fired another energy blast at Blue Guy's arm, successfully disintegrating the web that attached him to the fence.

"Get to the top deck; we're getting out of here!" The Vulture instructed his goon, while Spider-Man and Marin corralled the agents to safety.

Before he could disappear, Peter tried shooting a web at the Blue Guy, but the Vulture only fired again, disconnecting the web. As the Vulture was distracted with Spider-Man and the persistent agents that had returned to fight him, Marin sprinted off after the Blue Guy. She followed him through the sliding doors. Noticing her with a quick glance behind him, the Blue Guy picked up his pace as he took the stairs three steps at a time.

Reaching the Saloon deck, Marin was grateful that the front of the deck wasn't heavily populated, and the few stragglers scampered to the stern side of the ferry once they caught sight of the Blue Guy, and Marin chasing close behind. The dealer was trying to make it to the staircase in the center front of the ferry, but Marin was too quick for him, and grabbed the back of his outer jean jacket, using all of her strength to hold him back. She used the momentum to shove her foot into the back of his left knee, causing it to buckle.

Marin had lifted her elbow, intending to jab it into the suprascapular nerve in his right shoulder (where she knew hitting the pressure point would incapacitate him enough to gain leverage), but he twisted to his left, away from her elbow, and sent the electrified weapon on his right hand into her gut.

The impact of metal against her flesh hurt more than the electricity did—bruising her abdomen and hipbone as she fell back on her ass. The distraction gave the Blue Guy the chance to escape up the steps, and Marin recovered as fast as she could, sprinting up the stairs, just as a blast of energy exploded through the front of the Saloon Deck.

She took the stairs three at a time, tackling the Blue Guy just as he was stepping out of the threshold. The two rolled on the ground, each trying to gain dominance over the other. Though Marin thrashed about, the dealer was stronger, and he quickly pinned her hands above her head with his bare left hand, using his right to crash into Marin's jaw.

Though the pain radiating from her chin caused her eyes to tear up, she noticed that the Blue Guy paused briefly, most likely out of disbelief to see that the electricity didn't harm her. Marin used his hesitation to her advantage—yanking one arm from his grasp, which had loosened in his shock (she laughed to herself), and slammed it into his crotch.

The damage wasn't as detrimental as she'd hoped, but he was debilitated enough for her to squirm out from under him. They both recovered at the same time, dancing around each other as if to size up their opponent. The Blue Guy threw out the decorated right fist, but the weight of the weaponry slowed the swing down enough for Marin to dodge it easily, ducking to the side and sending an uppercut into his exposed chest. He hunched slightly as the air was knocked out of him, so Marin took it further. Stepping so her body was just beyond his, she elbowed his sciatic nerve with as much strength as she could gather, sending him sprawling forward.

She whirled around to block him from the stairs leading to the Bridge deck, watching as he scrambled to his feet. Marin crouched in a defensive position, huffing away a piece of her bangs that had dropped into her line of sight.

Marin was moving to attack again, but a groan that rivaled the ferry's horn sounded from somewhere on the vessel. The ship jolted, throwing all of its passengers off balance, and giving the Blue Guy the leverage to knock a particularly strong blow to Marin's head.

Marin fell to the ground, landing hard on her left wrist as a pained cry fell from her lips. She hardly noticed the dealer getting away, too preoccupied with the beams of purple light shooting up from the floor, bisecting the ship down the middle.

The ferry was filled with the sounds of shrieking adults and wailing children, and Marin hurried to her feet, pushing passengers away from the center of the ferry.

With a burst of radiating energy, the purple light exploded, leaving a glowing line of blackened metal down the entire length of the ferry—floor, ceiling, and benches all included. Now curious, people cautiously moved towards the line but were jostled back to their places clinging to the edges of the ship as it gave one final lurch, and the halves of the ferry began splitting down the glowing line.

"Shit!" Marin yelped, leaping to snag a woman who got too close to the middle and was beginning to lose her balance. Screams erupted once more, as Marin yelled to them, "Stay calm! Stick to the edges and grab onto the railings!"

Twirling to face the bow, Marin glimpsed Spider-Man readying for action. He was screaming instructions to Karen, telling her to find the strongest points of the ferry. As he moved to attach webs to pillars down the split section of the ship, he yelled to Marin as he passed, "You need to keep the water out of the ship!"

Nodding frantically, Marin hopped down the split center, catching herself above the water flowing rapidly into the cargo hold, sending vehicles floating down the deck. She rushed to the middle of the ferry so she had even control over the water. Perched on a shelf of water hovering around the Saloon deck, she ignored the frightened stares of the passengers and thrust out her hands.

After realizing that they'd be fighting on a ferry, surrounded by nothing but water, Marin was ecstatic that if it came to using her powers, she might actually stand a chance. But she didn't anticipate the ferry would start sinking into the bay, and the thought of keeping thousands of tons of metal afloat was suddenly incredibly daunting.

Somewhere above her, Spider-Man was flipping around the ship, keeping it held together with strings of spider-web, and Marin trembled violently with the amount of exertion needed to keep the water from rising above the Saloon Deck. If she thought cushioning Peter's fall into the lake was hard, this was nearly impossible.

At the sound of Peter yelling orders to Karen, Marin squeezed her eyes shut, focusing only on the water; she visualized the power flowing through her veins like the water flowing from the bottom of the ferry. A calm moment passed, when Peter had finished attaching his webs and the ship was no longer falling apart. Though Marin struggled with the amount of water she was keeping out of the ferry's cargo hold, she carried through the moment of stasis and opened her eyes carefully.

"Yeah, Spider-Man!" A man cheered from somewhere on the ship. "And weird water-girl!"

Marin smiled brightly despite herself. She heard some clapping follow his cheer.

But then the webs started snapping, and Marin felt a new, intense rush of water push against her control. Spider-Man rushed to grab the snapped webs, and Marin tried desperately to block out the screams. She closed her eyes at the sight of Peter dangling in the air in front of her, falling to her knees as the water pulled her down towards it like gravity. She felt it calling to her, and Marin barely managed not to completely collapse as her hold on the water wavered.

Suddenly, the water released her hold slowly, and she popped her eyes open. The water level was beginning to slowly level out, as one half of the ferry drew upright. The floor of the Saloon deck pushed together underneath her, and Peter was lowered to the floor as well. Marin released the water with a gush, her body immediately sagging to the ground. Peter ran over to her, helping her to her feet.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she assured him, settling on shaky legs. They both looked around, trying to figure out what had saved them. A singularly intense bang caught their attention.

Outside one of the windows, Iron Man lifted his head up. "Hi, Spider-Man," he greeted with sarcastic cheerfulness, then outright sneered, "And Rain."

Marin felt the blood rush from her face. Her eyes widened, she inhaled sharply and clenching her jaw. He knew.

"'Rain'?" Peter looked at Marin. "Who's that? Who the hell is 'Rain'?"

Iron Man ignored Peter's confusion. "Band practice, was it?" A series of smaller clanks echoed around the perimeter of the ferry, and Iron Man pushed, as did whatever devices he'd attached, and the halves of the ship closed together.

"Yeah, Iron Man!" Clapped the same man from before, and Marin's stomach twisted as her chest constricted.

Once the halves reunited, Iron Man flew off, Spider-Man leaping off to try and help. Distantly, Marin heard the whir of metal being welded back together, but the rush of blood in her ears overwhelmed her. Her body ached, her vision was blurring, and her mind raced at the realization that Tony Stark knew who—and what—she was.

She was completely, utterly, absolutely screwed.

+++

By the time the Coast Guard had brought everyone to safety, and Iron Man had carried Marin and Peter to the mainland before flying off to continue helping them move the ferry, the sun was beginning to set over the Manhattan skyline.

Contrary to the beautiful pinkish-orange glow set against fluffy white clouds, Marin's stomach tangled and gnawed with nerves. She paced the walkway while Peter sat dejectedly on the concrete edge of a building lining the coast of Brooklyn Heights, waiting for Iron Man to return and reprimand them. Peter had tried to ask her about Mr. Stark calling her 'Rain', but Marin only shook her head lowly, tears filling her eyes and cramps tearing at her insides.

Eventually, Iron Man flew up to where they waited, hovering as they turned to face him. "Previously, on Marin and Peter screw the pooch; I tell you two to stay away from this. Instead, you hacked a multimillion-dollar suit so you could sneak around behind my back, doing the one thing I told you not to do."

Peter only seemed concerned, even though his voice trembled with disappointment. "Is everyone okay?"

"No thanks to you two." Tony denigrated.

Peter visibly bristled, and Marin narrowed her eyes defensively.

"No thanks to us?" Marin couldn't help but challenge, despite knowing that antagonizing Tony Stark was probably the worst idea at the moment. But Marin never said she was good at controlling her emotions.

Peter roughly hopped down from the ledge, looking offended. "Those weapons were out there, and I tried to tell you about it, but you didn't listen." He testified, growing agitated. He stepped toward Iron Man, whose suit was descending onto the walkway ahead of them. "None of this would've happened if you had just listened to me!" Peter cried, then laughed humorously. "If you even cared, you'd actually be here."

At his words, the front of Iron Man's suit opened up, panels turning outwards to reveal Tony Stark in the flesh, looking both livid and pained. Peter took a few startled steps back, almost bumping into Marin. Mr. Stark continued to advance on them, walking them back a few feet as he sniffed, almost out of habit.

"I did listen, kid." Mr. Stark attested, his face revealing nothing, but his tone was defensive. Betrayed, almost, that his mentee didn't have trust in him. "Who do you think called the FBI, huh? Do you know that I was the only one who believed in you? Everyone else said I was crazy to recruit a fourteen-year-old kid."

"I'm fifteen." Peter defended weakly.

"No—this is where you zip it, all right? The adult is talking." Mr. Stark snapped, his composure crumbling under the heavy weight of his frustration. "What if somebody had died tonight? Different story, right? Cause that's on you. And if you died... I feel like that's on me. I don't need that on my conscience."

"Yes, sir." Peter relented, looking desperate as he nodded. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Sorry doesn't cut it."

"I understand," Peter pleaded. "I just wanted to be like you."

"And I wanted you to be better." For a fraction of a second, as Mr. Stark looked at the ground, he looked as if he was going to break. But it disappeared as fast as it had shown up, and Tony Stark looked like he was completely indifferent. "Okay, it's not working out. I'm going to need the suit back."

Peter's face hardened. "For how long?"

"Forever." Mr. Stark responded flatly. Peter tried to plead with him, but the billionaire didn't want to hear it. "Yeah. Yeah, that's not how this works."

"You don't understand—please," Peter begged, his eyes growing glassy. "This is all I have. I'm nothing without this suit."

"If you're nothing without this suit, then you shouldn't have it. Okay?" Mr. Stark snipped, rubbing his left wrist, then sighed. "God, I sound like my dad."

"I—I don't have any other clothes." Peter stuttered.

"We can work that out." Tony Stark nodded, then after a moment, his gaze slid to Marin, who was standing behind Peter. Marin's face went white and her pulse picked up. "And you. Did you seriously think I wouldn't figure out where you really came from?"

Peter's eyes flickered between Marin and Mr. Stark. "Marin, what's he talking about?"

"Mr. Stark, please—" Marin whimpered, tears filling her eyes. Tony stepped around Peter, approaching her leisurely as if he didn't have a look of hatred crossing his face. Marin took frantic steps backward as if she could back away from the reality of her past catching up to her.

"Did you really think I wouldn't find out who you are?" Tony Stark's eyes burned with something sickeningly close to disgust, and Marin's heart cracked viciously in her chest. He straightened his back. "Well, I'm sure you'll be pleased to learn that I've contacted Charles and arranged for someone to come and retrieve you."

"What the hell is going on?!" Peter demanded, voice hardened and his eyes beseeching.

"Your friend Marin, here," Tony started, and Marin's eyes snapped opened impossibly wide as she shook her head incessantly at him—begging him to stop. "Is a mutant."

A gush of air left Peter like it was punched out of him. "What? That's ridiculous, Marin's not—"

"Oh, but she is." Tony insisted, looking Marin in the eyes aggressively.

Peter looked at Marin. "Is—is he telling the truth?"

"Peter, please—"

"Is he telling the truth?!" Peter yelled at her, causing her to flinch. She'd never seen him angry like this—not the night they met, or the night she ran away, or the night he abandoned the Decathlon team to track down the dealers. It terrified her. "Are you a mutant?!"

"Y-Yes, but—" Marin moved to take a step towards Peter, but her heart positively shattered to see him back away quickly, like her touch was infectious. Her outstretched hand snapped back as she cradled it against her chest.

"She ran away from the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning twelve days ago." Tony told Peter while not moving his gaze off of Marin.

"You told me they kicked you out," Peter breathed, tears dropping down his cheeks.

"They kicked her out of the X-Men program five months ago, after years of repeated disobedience and disrespectful behavior. The last straw was the night she went against orders and abandoned her team to go stop a bank robbery—the night she met you." How did he know so damn much? Tears flowed steadily down her face. "I did some research, Marin, into your name—your parents."

Marin didn't know it was possible for her face to grow so pale, but she was getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen. She clutched the concrete like a lifeline as she clenched her eyes shut while Tony continued his excoriation.

"Nine years ago, Marin was found in her destroyed home, both of her parents had died, but Marin was miraculously untouched by the destruction." Tony towered over her, as Marin wrapped her arms around herself. "I didn't understand it, until yesterday, when I received a call from a Charles Xavier, who was more than happy to fill me in.

"You see, Marin has been developing these new powers, and I was warned that she was unstable and extremely dangerous. After all, it was those same powers that had killed her parents."

"No..." Marin choked. Her breath was escaping her; she was hyperventilating. She risked a glance at Peter, who was looking at her with wide, horrified eyes. "No, you don't understand..."

She tried to beg, tried to explain, tried to say something but her throat was so dry and the watery words that she tried to expel got caught, and she choked on them.

Tony stepped between her and Peter, shielding him like he needed to protect the boy from her. Her friend. "You're going to go back to the Institute, you're going to forget about everything that's happened, and you're going to leave Peter the hell alone." Tony hissed at her. "Am I clear?"

Marin still couldn't speak, so she nodded shakily. No one said another word as Tony climbed back into the Iron Man suit, and scooped Peter up, who avoided her gaze like the plague as he tugged his mask on hastily.

"Someone will be here for you shortly." Was the last thing Tony Stark said to her, before flying off with Peter.

Once they were out of sight, Marin collapsed to her knees and began to cry.

taglist

@dark-night-sky-99 @pushmeinablackhole @demi-starzak @-thatgirloverthere- @silver-winter-wolf

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angelbabylu · 5 years

Text

The Art of Losing // AI

pairing: i created an oc for this bc its pretty heavy

prompt: Imagine you and Ashton are married and have a baby girl. You and your baby girl are driving back from a long day at the carnival and you get into a bad car accident.

warnings: this is supposed to be sad okay, warnings for death, drug use, & problematic domestic situations

word count: 5.5k

notes: this is for @myemptywallets who sent me the prompt. i hope this is does your prompt justice. shout out to my love @5sosnsfw ! thanks reading and editing this. love you

title from the poem One Art by Elizabeth Bishop

- before -

There is no sound in the dressing room as Ashton sits typing away at the screen of his phone. He had taken a few photos of the boys during sound check, and now he’s posting them: Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, the works. With his focus buried deep in the world of social media, he is lost to the world around him.

A voice floats through the device on the desk in front of him, disrupting the silence with an exasperated, “Ash.”

He lets his eyes to flicker up to the neutral-faced woman on the screen for a half a second before shifting his attention down to Twitter once more.

“One second, babe. I just need to send this tweet.”

With a heavy breath, she tries to convey her feelings of discontent. Were Ashton paying attention, he would have picked up on it in seconds. Then again, were Ashton paying attention, she wouldn’t be upset in the first place.

“Ashton, I think you guys are big enough now that you can hire someone else to run your twitter account.”

He doesn’t hear her. Or, if he does, he’s too engaged to respond.

It takes a full minute for his head to pop up and his eyes to meet piercing ones, their intensity dulled by the LCD display. She never quite looks the same behind a screen. Something about her felt diluted by the machine that separated them.

“What?” His thick brows furrow, creating a deep V in the space between them. She is opening her mouth to restate herself when his brain catches up.

“Baby,” he scoffs. They had talked about this. “You know how impersonal that is to me. Our fans deserve to hear straight from us.”

This time he keeps his eyes on her long enough to take in how disconcerted she is. Ashton knows that face better than his own. There were hours in years past that he dedicated to learning her every emotion. On that day that Ashton said those fateful words (“Maren Anderson, will you marry me?”), he promised to always do what he could to keep her happy. His current actions were contradicting that vow.

“Mare, you okay?”

The look she gives him says that she obviously isn’t. He feels a twinge in his gut at the realization that he had been neglecting her. Placing his phone back in his pocket (after covertly hitting send on the tweet), he gives his attention over to her.

“What’s up?”

“I miss you.”

It is three simple words, but the weight of them is enough to crush Ashton’s heart. This is why he had become so engrossed in the business side of the tour. Being the band’s personal PR agent is just one of the many tricks he uses to keep his mind occupied. The more menial tasks he finds to consume his days, the less time he spends thinking about to what he left behind at home.

She reaches her left hand up to sweep her hair out of her face, the diamond on her ring finger catching the light, sparkling on screen. Ashton still remembers the day he gave her that ring - more so than the day he had stumbled into Tiffany’s at Saks Fifth Avenue, drugged out of his mind but sure of one thing: how much he wanted her to be his wife.

“Why aren’t you on tour with me again?” He tries to keep his tone light, recognizing what the scrunch of her nose meant. If he allows the conversation to continue with professions of just how much pain the space between them is causing, she will inevitably start to cry. Selfishly, he doesn’t want to go on stage thinking about his wife crying thousands of miles away, with no way to comfort her.

“We’re blaming Eden,” she says, and that is just the segue he is hoping for. If there is one thing that could put a smile on both their faces, Eden is it.

“And where is my little devil?”

His wife is sitting on the couch in their living room, and if the smile she shoots over the screen of her phone is any indication, so is their five-year-old daughter.

“Daddy!”

The scream is accompanied by high pitched giggles as a flurry of dark curls materializes on screen, dislodging the camera from her mother’s hand. In the next second, Ashton is facing the light of his life. She is smiling, as always, her dimples the size of craters on her cheeks.

“Hey! How’s my favorite girl?”

“Once again, your daughter comes on screen, and you forget I exist.”

His wife’s voice comes from somewhere to the left of the device, meaning she doesn’t see the roll of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he calls out. “Who are you again?”

Neither Maren nor Eden take lightly to the joke.

“Daddy, don’t be mean!” the curly-haired kindergartener chastises.

“Okay, okay.” He raises his hands in defeat. “What are my two favorite girls going to be up to today?”

Maren’s head pops up on screen then, resting her cheek gently on the top of their daughters head. She doesn’t take the phone from Eden, knowing how much she likes to be in control during these family FaceTimes (“She gets this control thing from you,” Maren never hesitates to tell her husband.)

“We’re going to the carnival!”

He catches his wife’s guilty eyes over his daughter’s head. Just last week she had sworn they wouldn’t go to the carnival, citing it as punishment for Eden’s recent unruly behavior.

“We’re only going for a few hours,” Maren tries to explain. “Because Eden was good and cleaned her room today without me having to ask.”

“And I spoil her?” His voice is incredulous, hinting at a conversation they’d had numerous times before.

Eden, too clever for her own good, comments, “You both spoil me.”

The sound Ashton releases is an embarrassingly loud guffaw. Eden is sharp, to the point where Ashton is continuously amazed by her mind. Of course, he remembers watching his younger siblings mature, but something about watching his daughter, someone he helped bring into the world, go from only being able to laugh and babble to now developing her own firecracker sense of wit, felt different. He is immensely proud. And grateful to be blessed with someone as amazing as her.

“Your eyes, your smile, and now your sass,” his wife says fighting a slight smile. “She is her father's child.”

And she is. The resemblance is uncanny. Not only in their looks, but in their personality as well. They are both talkative pranksters, demanding of attention, always in need of stimulation and excitement. Together, they wreak havoc in their house. They are partners in crime. His wife often complains that they needed another child ASAP. It is easy to feel out of place in the Ashton and Eden Show.

“I’m daddy’s child when I’m bad, mommy’s child when I’m good, and uncle Lu’s niece when I whine too much.”

Eden recites the mantra Maren has been repeating since Eden could talk. There are more sayings for the other boys as well. She is Mikey’s niece when they couldn’t get her away from her video games and Calum’s niece when she is melodramatic.

(A few days before they had gone on tour, Ashton had walked into their house to find Eden home from Kindergarten, sprawled out on the tan carpet of their living room. His wife at their record player with a Depeche Mode album in hand.

“What’s going on here?” he had asked.

Maren shrugged. “She came in, threw herself on the carpet, and asked for this album.” She waved the Some Great Reward Vinyl in her hand before slipping it out of its sleeve and onto the player.

“Bug?” Ashton turned to his daughter then, looking for more information.

No such luck.

“People are people, daddy.” She said as if there was some great weight on her five-year-old shoulders only Depeche Mode could solve.

Ashton caught his wife’s eyes. Then, as if there was no other response to the scene in front of them, they both sighed, “She is Calum’s niece.”)

They speak for a while, Eden monopolizing most of her dad’s attention. She is in the middle of a nonsensical story that Ashton was having a hard time following.

“Four, five, six hippo princesses and a dinosaur car chase!” Ashton’s mind supplies, and even though he has no idea what that means, he nods along anyway.

A knock on the door interrupts them just as Eden begins to mention Ali’s tater’s and lasers, or perhaps alligator lasers, Ashton isn’t really sure. She pauses though, all three of their attention shifting to the door as Ashton called the person inside.

It’s three people. Luke, Calum, and Michael stumble through the door of their dressing room looking all fired up and ready for the show. As soon as they see who’s one screen, they do not spare Ashton a second glance.

They crowd around the back of Ashton’s chair and begin to all speak at once, offering varying greetings to Maren and Eden.

“Sorry little bug,” Calum begins once everyone has finished exchanging pleasantries. “We’ve come to steal your daddy away.”

Luckily, Eden does not put up as much of a fight as she usually does.

There are tears - there are always tears. The second Eden hears that her dad has to leave, she begins to cry. Her nose scrunches, similar to the way Maren’s had earlier, and her eyes well up with rivers.

“No please,” She begs her uncle. “I wanna talk to daddy.”

All five adult hearts at that moment shatter. The boys know how hard it is for Ashton to be away from his daughter. Truthfully, it is hard for them to be away from her too. At that moment, Ashton is the only one with a child, and in many ways, Eden has become theirs as well.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, they have done this enough that everyone knows how to calm the five-year-old down.

“Eden,” it is Luke’s turn this time. He crouches at Ashton’s side, bringing himself down to be face to face with the screen of the iPad. “You know your daddy & your uncles will call you after the show.”

“Yeah,” Maren chimes in, her hand gently running through the unruly mop of curls on her daughter's head. “And we have the carnival. If you talk to your daddy all afternoon, we won’t be able to go.”

Eden still doesn’t budge. “I wanna keep talking to daddy.”

“My little sunshine.” Ashton and his daughter are twins. He boasts about knowing how to talk her down. “Go to the carnival. Have as much fun as possible. Then later when you get home, you’ll have twice as many stories to tell me and all the time in the world to tell them!”

At the thought of making more memories to share later with her dad, the kindergartener reluctantly resigns. “Okay,” she pouts.

“Love you, little bug.”

They exchange a round of “I love you’s” before Ashton got up and got ready for the stage.

- after: ashton -

Calum receives the news first. He is the closest to the wings of the arena stage that night, so when their manager rushes on stage, only ten minutes of the set remaining, he is the first one she runs into.

Ashton doesn’t realize that he has stopped playing for a full minute. It is not until Michael and Luke stop playing as well, both their attention on Calum, that Ashton begins to register that something is off.

Later, he will tell them that he knows the bad news is for him from the get-go. How can he not, with the way Calum breathes, “Fuck,” and immediately turns to him.

The arena is almost silent now. What was once thousands of fans yelling the lyrics to She Looks So Perfect is now a mass quiet, curious faces. Ashton wonders if the crowd can feel it too, can feel the realization that his manager’s next few words will tear his life apart forever.

“We regret to inform you that due to a family emergency we will be cutting the show short. . .”

Ashton doesn't get to hear her finish the speech because the boys rush towards him, all but forcing him off stage. He knows his body is moving, vaguely aware of the gentle hand at the small of his back, guiding him through the backstage area. His mind - that is elsewhere. It buzzes with one question only: What the fuck was happening? It takes him a full minute to realize he is repeating it aloud.

He doesn’t get his answer until Calum shoves him into a chair in their dressing room - the very same chair he sat on earlier when talking to his daughter and his wife.

“Promise me you’ll take deep breaths after I tell you this,” Calum commands. That is never a good sign. That phrase is not one that is usually followed by good news.

Ashton looks up and meets Luke’s eyes. He is surprised to find that he and Michael are confused as well. Calum is the only one who knows what was going on.

“Cal, what the fuck is happening?” Ashton says in lieu of the promise.

Calum is silent for what feels like a full minute. Ashton could hear the sound of each second passing from the clock on the dressing room wall. Tick, tick, tick.

It counts down the seconds before Ashton hears, “Maren and Eden got into a car accident.”

Luke and Michael release gasps of shock, both staggering as if Calum’s words are enough to knock them off their feet.

For Ashton, the words don’t quite sink in. He is on his feet before Calum’s next breath. The phrase alone is too much for Ashton to process, but he is aware that it is Mare and it is Eden and it is bad news.

“Okay, I need to - “

He doesn’t get to finish before Calum is pushing him back into his chair. “You need to breathe. We have a flight. The four of us. We leave for LA in 2 hours. The car will be pulling up any second now. We’re gonna go to the hotel, grab what you need, and then we’re gonna go.” He speaks like he would were it Eden in a crisis, demanding and almost infuriatingly slow.

“Do you understand?”

When Ashton nods, Calum shakes his head. “I need you to use your words, Ashton. Do you understand?”

He’s not sure his voice will work. He surprises himself when he’s able to croak out, “I understand.”

“Did you want to try eating breakfast today?”

He doesn’t get a verbal answer. Instead, the mop of hair peeking out from underneath the comforter slowly shakes no.

“You need to eat something,” There is a pleading in his voice. Still, he gets no response from the body tucked tightly in the bed sheets.

Sighing slowly, he closes the door behind him.

Maren hasn’t said a word since they came home from the hospital without their daughter. He understands. Some days he’s surprised he’s able to get out of bed at all. His mother thinks that he’s in shock, that the finality of everything hasn’t hit him yet. Maybe he hasn’t realized he will never see his little girl again, never see her smile, never hear her say a sharp comment, nothing. He thinks she’s partially correct. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognizes that this truly terrible thing has happened to him, but if he doesn’t give himself the time to think, the time to mull on just how world crushing the situation is, he won’t snap. He won’t fall to pieces like his wife has. And right now, he has to keep it together for her.

When he gets downstairs, he finds Calum, Michael, and Crystal in the kitchen.

There are a million people staying at his house right now. Luke refuses to go home. He spends most of his days curled up in bed with Maren. From what Ashton can gather, neither of them say very much. They just sit together in silence. Sometimes when he walks by the TV will be on. Other times, they’re crying. But he hasn’t heard either of them utter a word. He’s happy (a funny word at that moment) that Luke can be there for Maren in a way that he can’t.

Mikey and Crystal will go home sometimes. Mostly because Maren doesn’t like seeing Crystal, the small 4-month baby bump a reminder that of the child they had lost.

His mom and his siblings are milling around somewhere. They flew in just a few hours after he did.

God. Just 4 days ago he was still on tour. He shook the thought out of his head. There was no point in worrying about how his fans were reacting to its abrupt cancellation.

Calum catches sight of the motion and looks over him with scrutinizing eyes, “You okay?”

Calum had been his rock in the past four days. Ashton will never forget how he ushered him from one place to the next that first night, getting him ready for the plane flight and the subsequent visit to the hospital. And now, there was no way he could plan this funeral without Calum. They were the only ones strong enough to. Better yet, the only ones strong enough to pick themselves up after a good cry.

Neither of them told anyone about the day at the funeral home. Calum had barely been able to clarify, “We’re looking for child caskets,” before the both of them broke down in tears. That was the only time Ashton allowed his emotions to slip. Even then, he forced himself to regain composure, perhaps too quickly. Ashton is afraid that if he lets himself to really cry, he will never stop.

“Fine.” He responds to Calum’s earlier question.

Eventually, his sister joins them in the kitchen and all five of them make breakfast. It is a little crowded, but everyone just wants to be around each other, so no one complains.

The funeral and wake will be later that day. The wake is being held at his house so of course his mom has been up since the crack of dawn cleaning. Never mind the fact that they could easily hire an entire crew to do so. His mom recruits his siblings, Michael and Crystal to help with the cleaning. Calum and Ashton go over final funeral details. And Luke and Maren. . . they cry and try to gather their strength for the funeral.

Ashton makes it through the funeral, his eulogy, and the wake that follows. He makes it to the end of the week. He makes through seven days of his wife not uttering a word to him. So, he feels weak when the thing that finally causes him to break is his mom leaving.

He had rolled his eyes at the airport when she asked, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” and all but pushed them onto the plane. He knew they wanted to stay and be there for him, but his siblings still had school. They had already taken a week off. They made promises to see each other the next holiday and then said goodbye.

It doesn’t hit him until he gets home.

There are no more distractions.

The funeral is over.

The few days post-funeral he had spent shopping for and catching up with his mom and his younger siblings.

Now they are gone too.

Michael and Crystal are home together.

Luke is probably curled up somewhere with Maren.

Calum finally went home to his girlfriend, no longer needed to help plan a funeral.

Ashton is alone.

Maybe not totally alone.

He takes a deep breath and climbs the stairs, en route to his room. He knocks but knows better than to expect an answer before pushing it open.

He’s surprised to find that Luke isn’t there. He’s even more surprised to find his wife sitting up, and scrolling through her phone. “Luke went home?” he asks.

She doesn’t even look up at him.

“Yeah.”

Yeah. The first word his wife has spoken to him since the death of their daughter.

He sits gingerly on the bed. His side of the bed. A bed he hasn’t slept in for months.

“Should we. . .” he trails off, looking at her, hoping to meet her eyes.

She keeps her gaze down.

“Should we talk about it?”

For a minute, he thinks she isn’t going to respond. She’s almost robotic in the way she stares at the small device and in the movement of her thumb. He thinks that maybe if he sticks it out, if he sits by her, she will look up at him and they will finally get to talk about it - to go through this pain together.

They don’t.

“Ashton,” Her voice is small. She turns off her phone, but her eyes never leave it. “Don’t take this the wrong way but - “

Her voice is breaking, just like his heart.

“I’m having a hard time okay? I just want to be alone to process my emotions. I can’t talk about it. It is still too painful.”

He doesn’t know what that means. What he’s supposed to do with that information. A million responses roll through his mind.

He eventually settles on, “Okay.”

Before he’s even out the door, he has his phone in hand, dialing a number he hasn’t touched in years.

- after: maren -

The first words Maren says after Eden dies are, “I need to go get Eden ready for school.”

She’s woken up by someone placing something on her bedside table, and for a brief moment, before she even opens her eyes, her subconscious thinks it’s Ashton waking her up to go get Eden. They had done it many times before. He would make her breakfast, a nice gesture, but inevitably wake her up with the clanging of the breakfast tray on the bedside table.

But this time it wasn’t Ashton, and she would never get Eden ready for school again.

When Luke lets out a shuddering breath, reality comes rushing back to her. As soon as her eyes open, she is crying. She has only seen people through her tears recently.

Luke is crying too.

At this point, it’s two days since Eden’s death. One day since they got home from the hospital. The car was hit on the passenger side, where Eden had been peacefully babbling, playing with a stuffed giraffe she had “won for her uncle Lu” at the carnival.

A drunk driver. Dead on impact as well.

The car had spun out, gone off the bank on the opposite side of the road before being stopped by a thicket of trees. She had been conscious until the airbag deployed, causing the majority of her injuries.

Lucky. That’s what the doctor said when she awakened. She was lucky to walk away with a few burns and a broken arm.

Mourning a child felt impossible. If the driver had hit her side and Ashton were planning her funeral, she knows it would be hard, but some part of her thinks like it would be better.

She has experienced life. Eden has not. She’ll never experience the first day of first grade, she’ll never get her first report card, do a science project, have a first crush, bring a significant other home, anything.

The thought swarms her mind what feels like every second of every day. So much so that she can’t speak. She thinks that if she does, all that will come out is a list. A list of things that she’ll never see her baby do.

So, she locks herself away. Luke is the only one brave enough to come and see her - and even then they don’t speak. They cry and listen to Eden’s favorite albums and watch Paw Patrol of all things. All without exchanging a word.

She leaves her room twice in that first week. The first time, she shuffles down the stairs in search of water. It’s expected when what feels like a thousand voices float up from the foyer, getting clearer as she gets closer.

She knows that all the boys are there. They wouldn’t leave Ashton’s side at a time like this.

When she walks into the kitchen where they’re gathered, everyone grows quiet, watching her as if she is teetering on the edge of a break.

To be fair, she is.

She sees Crystal’s baby bump for the first time since the accident and immediately breaks down in tears.

The second time is for Eden’s funeral.

Ashton even gets a fucking priest. Neither of them are very religious, so it feels disingenuous. She briefly wonders if five-year-olds go to heaven. If Eden is somewhere at that moment, being taken care of.

It’s a nice thought. Something easy to believe.

Perhaps that’s why Ashton got the priest in the first place.

She sits in the back and leaves before it’s over.

Ashton tries to comfort her at times. She’s aware of him coming to her door daily, of the food he sends up with Luke even after she says she doesn’t want to eat, of the gentle hand that he places on her shoulder at the funeral that she promptly shakes off.

She loves Ashton.

She does.

But Ashton is Eden’s twin. They were always joking about that. Now, Maren couldn’t look at him without being reminded of everything she’s lost.

She doesn’t expect it when Ashton stops trying.

The day she sends Luke home is the day she pushes Ashton away.

She realizes too late that it’s a mistake. It means getting out of bed and making her own tea.

The first day she tries but finds one of Eden’s sippy cup forgotten at the back of the cupboard. She spends three hours on the kitchen floor crying.

At the end of the second week, she works up the energy to make an appointment with a grief counselor.

“And how is your husband taking all this?”

Counseling is going great until she gets that question.

She doesn't know how to tell her counselor that she hasn’t seen her husband in weeks. She has no idea where he is or what he has been up to. She never even asked him how he was feeling about the death of their first child.

At the encouragement of her counselor, she makes an effort to reach out to Ashton.

Staring at her phone screen for hours, she finally decides on a text.

Dinner?

She’s not sure that he will respond.

He does, seconds later.

He says, i'll be home in 20.

After all that time, Ashton still came running when she called.

She thinks it’ll be cute to bring back some of their old traditions. The first time she cooks for Ashton, it is after spending an entire day wrapped around each other. Naturally, she was wearing his clothes while she did it. Somehow, it becomes a ritual of theirs: her wearing his clothes as she moves about the kitchen, him watching from the sidelines pretending to help.

What she finds in his t-shirt drawer derails the entire night.

When Ashton walks in, she is not in the kitchen preparing dinner, but in the living room, sitting quietly in the dim light of their table lamp.

“Really?” Maren asks. This is the second conversation they’ve had since Eden, and she feels like this will be their last.

Ashton’s eyes finally fall on the bottle in her hand. It’s a translucent orange with a handful of white pills sitting at the bottom. When she shakes it, its rattle thunders through the room. His flinch lets her know that at least part of him feels remorse.

He had stopped taking Xanax before they got married. It was their deal. She would only marry him if he got clean. To know that he was back. . .

Ashton’s first reaction is to downplay it all.

“Eden is fucking dead, Mare. This is my way of dealing with it. Just like yours is to disappear to your room for weeks and refuse to say anything to me.”

Maren doesn’t respond. She knows that if she opens her mouth to speak, she is going to yell. Gritting her teeth, she tries to keep her comments to herself – comments about how her dead daughter is not an excuse for him falling off the wagon.

Her silence only serves to agitate him.

She has to tighten her grip on the pill bottle as he continues, voice rising as he yells, “What so you’re allowed to feel things, and I’m not?”

Anger bubbles inside her. First, he uses their daughter as an excuse to go back to the dark places of his past, and now he is throwing her own grief back at her. She stands, facing him, but tries to keep her voice level, aware of how easy it would be for both of them to start screaming.

“This isn’t feeling things. This is you not knowing how to deal with your emotions, same as always.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” He asks, as if this isn’t a conversation they’d had before, as if she hadn’t once begged him to go to therapy for it.

“When you were on tour, and you missed us, instead of allowing yourself to feel it, you buried yourself in work and pretended everything was fine. This is no different.”

“You’re comparing the pain that I’m feeling over our dead daughter to me missing you on tour?”

“No.” She knows he is purposely misunderstanding her for the sake of argument. She explains herself anyway, “I am saying that just like how you refused to deal with your pain then, you are refusing to deal with your pain now.

“Ashton, our daughter is dead.” He winces at her impassive tone. That is the difference between them. It has taken her months of depression and counseling to be able to say those words. Ashton isn’t there yet, and she knows that if he doesn’t acknowledge his feelings, he never will be.

“Our daughter is dead. And that is not something that you can forget or pretend isn’t happening with drugs. You need to allow yourself time to mourn her. The drugs? That’s not helping you feel things.” She calls back his earlier phrase again, to drive her point in. “That’s helping you burry those feelings.”

He recoils as if her words are a slap to the face.

“Oh get off your fucking high horse, Mare!” Because of the volume and the intensity of his words, now Maren is the one to flinch. It was like this before too, with the drugs. He was easily irritable, prone to blaming his out of control behavior on anything other than himself, “I had to deal with this shit by myself. You disappeared. I had to plan this funeral while I mourned the loss of our child. And you created this distance between us. You! The only other person who understood what I was going through.”

He’s screaming by the time he has finished.

And he’s right.

That’s the painful part. Maren fucked them up first, but if she sticks around, Ashton is going to make everything worse. She knows she didn’t deal with Eden’s death in the best way just like she knows that Ashton isn’t coping in the best way now. If they continue down this path, they’re just going to keep hurting each other.

“I think I’m gonna go.”

“Go where? We’re not done.”

She ignores his angry protests and sidesteps him as she makes her way to the door.

“I love you,” she says. Her back is to him, hand already poised on the knob. “I will never love someone as much as I love you. And that’s why I think it’s best if I go.”

“Why are you always trying to walk away from us?” His voice is small now, barely above a whisper. She can feel him pleading in his words.

He is referring to the first time she gave him an ultimatum. Back then, he had brought her the beautiful ring that still sat on her finger, but he had been so drugged up he could barely get words out. What she told him then is what she tells him now.

“You need to realize Ash that this is bad for you, for the both of us. When you realize that and you get clean, come find me.”

She looks back at him for a brief second, and the last thing she sees before she leaves are the tears running down his face.

end notes: don’t forget to let me know what you think! thanks for reading!

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#ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin imagine #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos blurb #ashton irwin angst #ashton irwin au #ashton irwin fluff #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos fluff #5sos au #luke hemmings #calum hood #michael clifford #my fics #jay writes

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designationpinknoise · 7 years

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Transformer X OC scenarios: It’s an earthling thing.

(Idw)

Sleep: Drift/Yuki :this was before they got together

The first time Drift ever saw an organic sleep was quite a nerve wracking one, he walked into his hab suite and noticed it was eerily silent "Yuki?" he called usually she greets him or is sitting on her makeshift bed reading. but, not today...he scanned the room cautiously; keeping his hand on his sword in case something happened, when a tiny form laying on his berth caught his optic, Drift felt his spark sink when he realized it was Yuki.

He rush over to his berth reached for his small friend; only to freeze when she suddenly whimpered and rolled over, he watched the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest every time she took a breath; she looked very calm almost like she were meditating , he frowned before comming Ratchet who said she was napping or Micro-charging, When Yuki woke up she nearly had a heart attack seeing Drift staring at her.

"D-Drift, what are you doing?"

" watching you sleep, you looked very tranquil."

"I noticed, why were you watching me?"

"Because you weren't moving and I thought you were hurt."

The brunette felt flattered that he was worried about her, though Drift was curious about something else "But, here's a question for you," the white swords-mech said watch her stretch "Why in my berth?" he smirk as he watched her ears turn pink.

Rodimus & Kid!Amber: Lose teeth

(this takes place when Rodimus was still on earth and acted Amber's guardian/foster parent.)

Rodimus frowned from his desk as he watched his little charge stare morosely at her apple slices, "Sweetspark are you alright?" he asked, the little girl nodded staring down at her plate "Amber Rose-Roderick, don't lie to me." the 7 year old flinched when he full-named her.

"I know something's bothering you haven't spoken a word today and barely eaten anything" he pointed out her odd behavior then narrowed his eyes "...is someone bullying you?" the blue eyed girl shook her head he got up went to her little area.

"Are you sick?" he put a digit to her forehead only for the little girl to swat it away, shook her head again, and muttered something, he hummed then leaned "Come again?" Amber growled "I sthed em Phine!" she lisped before the flame colored mech could say anything she grabbed one of the slices shoved into her mouth; then started chewing then froze when she felt her gums hurt and something hard in her mouth.

"Amber?" he heard something crunch that didn't sound like a an apple, she spat into her plate and Rodimus's optics widened when he saw a tooth laying in the tiny puddle of saliva,energon and chewed up apple he looked back at his charge then,

back at the tooth, Amber, tooth, Amber, tooth, {Computer dial up sounds,,,}*Bing* "Ratchet?!?!..." in the end Rodimus ran into Carly on the way to the med bay; who explained it was normal for children to start losing their baby teeth at Amber's age he skeptical, but took her word for it.

Present day

19 year old Amber cringed as her boyfriend told the story of how she lost her first tooth, her face a lovely shade of dark magenta as the bots giggled; "I still have a few of her baby teeth." he said causing her to look at him mortified. "Why?" he shrugged "Carly gave me a little box and said should keep a memento of the occasion." then he remember something "Oh speaking of which you seen when she got chicken pox, it was adorable!~" as the bots snickered at her as she screamed in horror and ran out of Swerve's "Babe where you going?"

Brainstorm&Sybil: Cracking Joints

It was a pretty quiet day on the lost light, very slow to, when Brainstorm decided to visit his favorite, little E-type, well he got to her room, she answered looking frustrated and tired her mismatched eyes found and lit up when she saw him when she but, it seemed forced as she let him in.

"Hi stormy! what brings you here?"

"Oh, just a slow day on the Lost light, figured I'd see how you were doing?"

"I'm fine except for this damn kink in my damn back..."

"Kink?"

He walked up to her, curiously and Sybil awkwardly told him were to put hands, and she inhaled held her breath "Okay push!" he pushed into her spine as the sandy haired girl exhaled, Brainstorm nearly jumped out of his armor when these loud pops came from Sybil's back causing her yelp then sigh contently before the mech grabbed her shoulders,

"What was that sound? did I hurt you?" he asked panicking looking for any signs of pain. "Nope, just popped my back in the right place.~" she said rubbing her neck then stretched, Brainstorm's worry was suddenly replaced, Need watching her body tighten up, and the fact she wearing nothing but a sports bra and tiny shorts probably on her way to the training room before he got there. "You since you're dressed for it, I have a work out we can do,~" he said slyly bringing his servo up to one of her butt cheeks and squeezed as Sybil's face turned bright pink.

Prime

Prowl and Janis: sight

"Gah!" Prowl jumped back in shock as he was his mate remove some weird clear thing from her optic, "What's wrong?" she asked in shock, as he looked at the odd covering then at his mate "What is that?" he frowned she looked at the cover on her finger tip, "My contact lenses?" she said as the police mech tilted his head incredulously, "They help me with my vision." she explained blinking a few times as she took the other one out.

"I'm near sighted."

"You're...blind?"

"No,not like that! Everything within 39 inches of my face is blurry, it worse in my right eye."

"How long have you had these... contact lens?"

She blushed rummaged around one of her boxes and showed him a photo, Prowl tilted his helm as he looked at the younger girl in the photo she had longer hair and wore glasses "is this you?" he asked she nodded think I just about to graduate middle school and Ai Lin and Ryann dragged me the eye doctors and told to try them," she flinched at the memory...

Mini-flashback

"But I like my glasses..." Janis said looking at her friends as they stood in front of the optometrist, "come of Janis it'll be fine, you been wearing glasses since elementary, wouldn't you like to change?" Ryann said the blonde shuffled nervously as Ai butted in,

"And you don't have to risk them being stolen or broken and wiping them off every time you walk into a warm building." Janis went to protest about what if she lost them or forgot to take them out, but the two girls had already dragged her inside. Janis was escorted into the exam room.

while her two friend sat in the waiting room, then heard Janis freaking out the exam room opened and a whimpering crying Janis came out wiping her eyes, as the doctors handed her prescription, as Ryann and Ai Lin nodded and thanked the staff before walking to a coffee shop, when they got inside;

Janis's glasses fogged up and she took them off to clean someone knocked into her back causing her to drop them, the hazel eyed girl heard Ai Lin and Ryann yelling at someone before finding her glasses and winced he right lens had a perfectly round pea sized chip in the bottom corner.

"Guys I think I'll reconsider those contacts...."

---

"Had them since," she said putting on her reading glasses as Prowl faced turned neutral she looked at up at him, "Though I'll freaked out that forget to take the out that's stupid, eh?" her bot still didn't say anything, Janis stared at him concerned "Prowl?" the police mech fans kicked on, :: | By Primus she's hot! :: | he mentally screamed before glitching out.

Megatron & Temperance: hair

"augh...I need to cut my hair." Temperance mumbled it was getting too long, and was becoming a hindrance to take care of, she walked down the street and into a hair dressers about ten minutes later one of the vehicons pulled up, to building and a man with a purple buzz-cut red sun-glasses and black suit, got out he walked in,

"Miss Monroe? Lord Megatron has...what?" he awkwardly stared as Temperance finished paying the hairdresser, then looked at Steve who looked at her shock "what happened to that stringy stuff on your head?" he asked looked at her now shoulder length hair.

"I cut it off, What does Megs need?" she asked the vehicon looked sick awkwardly as gestured to his alt-mode still staring at her shorter hair oddly, needles to say Temperance did turned a few helms as she followed Steve to megaton's quarters, then they got there Megatron nodded at them then did a double take when he saw Temperance and mass displaced.

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your hair! it's short!"

"Oh, I had it cut."

The warlord gave her the same look Steve gave her, "why? why would you do something like that?" he demanded as he awkwardly used one of his claws to examined her side swept bangs, "Because it was bothering me, and expensive to take care of?" she said with shrug while Megatron seemed to be looking, for something,

"I just don't understand why you would mutilate yourself like this?" he said running he claws through it carefully Temperance was floored Mutilate, why would he think...oh; they all must've thought her hair was literally a body part and she just amputated it "Oh, no no! It's didn't hurt."

Megatron looked very confused. "besides it'll grow back." his red optics widened, "It grows?!" six months later, sure enough her hair was almost back to it's original length, thought Temperance still trimmed it from time to time to the war-lord dismay as he was still a little skeptical about it.

Bayverse

Lambo twins x Witwicky twins: Heartbeats

It was a slow day for the lambo twins they were in holo-forms sat on the bleachers watching watching Kendra's track meet, a few people cheered as the runners made passed the finish line. Kenny nearly fell over before being picked up by Sideswiped,

who gave her a sly grin "Good job. Kenny" the out of breath girl gave him a tired smile and hugged him to her before he could protest about her being sweaty, "whoa!" the bi-color eyed girl blinked and pulled away thinking she hurt him,

only for Sides to hug her tightly to him causing her to wrap her legs around him from the sudden action "Side-duh Sydney!? what are you d-doing? she said as people giving them odd looks, and sly grins and few jealous glances, he just purred as Sunstreaker and and Billie came up behind them

"Bro? what are you doing?"

"Her spark...."

"Huh? she doesn't have... what about it."

"It's making a sound...a nice sound..."

Kendra's face started to heat up"It's getting faster..." the red haired twin said as""Sunder"" saw her ears starting to change color, and threw a towel over her before anyone saw her true colors(1), while Billie did crowd control "yeah, yeah nothing to see here.." just a Sides put Kendra down "hey I'm gonna go shower real, quick see out front" she kissed Sideswipe on the cheek, Billie followed her as Sides look at his brother curiously "what?" Sunny hissed "aren't you little bit curious, to hear it?" the blonde avatar tsk'd and walked back to his alt-mode.

A few hours later

the Lambo's now massed displaced sat in the Witwicky's basement Sides and Kenny were playing video games while Billie was working on an art project, before taking a break to get a drink when heard a growl of protest then, she vaguely remembered a weight on her and though it was Mojo or Frankie, But nope it was a shrunk down Sunstreaker with his helm to her chest, the older Witwicky twin felt her face heat up, as the marigold mech purred cuddling closer to her chest, Sideswipe was right it is a nice sound...

-----------------

#transformers idw #bayformers #Transformers Prime #maccadam #scenarios #robot human romance #humans being humans

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locutius · 6 years

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Locutius Letter 13: 🤖Bots, ❄️Iceland, and 👂Soundscapes

The Most Important Design Skill For An AI-Dominated World

Admission: I tried reading John Maeda’s Design in Tech Report while standing in line at Passport Control and I had to give up on page 21 (consulting firms M&A) because it was literally unreadable on my phone. Argh. Ranting about abandoned and/or poorly maintained acquisitions aside, this quote stuck with me:

“Computers aren’t good at inclusion,” he says. “They’re good at exclusion, because they’re only based on past data. The business opportunity for the future-thinking designer is in inclusion.”

🖥🖥🖥

Microsoft Soundscape

So often we think about accessibility in terms of telling people about what’s right in front of them (or obstacles in the way), but if you’ve ever travelled to an unfamiliar place, you know that discovery comes from paying attention to what’s off the beaten path as well.

“Obstacle avoidance is not the problem, we have a dog, a cane and our blindness skills for that,” said Erin Lauridsen, Access Technology Director, LightHouse for the Blind in San Francisco. “The gap is knowing where things are and being able to decide what's of interest.”

When I travelled to Tokyo I ran into a lot of problems because I couldn’t read street signs or business names. This is a problem that visually impaired people deal with every day. I recommend watching the video to get an idea of what the app can do. Read more:

Watch the video on the project site (It’s the best explainer)

Soundscape app empowers people who are Blind or have Low Vision to explore the world

Download the app (iOS only, sorry)

👂👂👂

Bots! Why your chatbot needs to care about context

When it comes to conversation design, chatbots and VUIs have a lot in common (and a lot not-in-common..ephemerality, cough, cough). In this article, Gillian Armstrong covers some of the context your chatbot should care about, beyond When, Where, and What (these are things your VUI should care about, too). Read it: Why your chatbot needs to care about context

🤖🤖🤖

More bots: Mental health AI platform, Woebot lands $8M in funding

What makes Woebot different? Before founding the company, Alison Darcy was a clinical psychologist at Stanford. How rare (and great?!?) is it to see someone with subject matter expertise founding a company. Interested in working at Woebot? They’re hiring a creative writer who can specialize in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy: https://woebot.workable.com/jobs/655376 Read more about Woebot:

The Chatbot Therapist Will See You Now and

I spent 2 weeks texting a bot about my anxiety — and found it to be surprisingly helpful

😞😞😞

Facebook / Iceland / Linguistics

When I interviewed at Facebook, one thing the Groups team was excited about was that most women on Facebook in Iceland belong to the same Facebook group. Yeah, like Pantsuit Nation, but for *all* of the ladies in Iceland. Granted, there are only 167,000 women of any age in Iceland, but when you’re talking about cultural decimation, those numbers become even more important. In an article in The Guardian, Jon Henley details how digital language chips away at Iceland’s language and culture, one phone at a time, in interviews with Icelandic professors of linguistics and digital media. “Once, outside school you’d do sport, learn an instrument, read, watch the same TV, play the same computer games,”...“Now on phones, tablets, computers, TVs, there are countless games, films, series, videos, songs. You converse with Google Home or Alexa. All in English.” Read more:

Icelandic language battles threat of digital extinction

No mean girls: Why one-third of this nation's women joined same Facebook group

❄❄❄

Locutius Links

Oral-B made a 2-minute podcast for when your kids brush their teeth. It’s marketed for Alexa, but it works on Google, too. / Gimlet Media

Alexa has follow-up mode Now you don’t have to say “Alexa, turn on the kitchen lights.” and then “Alexa, turn on the dining room lights.” You can’t say “Alexa, turn on the kitchen and dining room lights” or “Alexa, turn on the lights for dinner.” But baby steps, eh? / Apple Insider

Microsoft drops ‘Hey Cortana’ in favor of just ‘Cortana’ on smart speakers / The Verge

How Otto, a German ecommerce giant, uses artificial intelligence. This one you'll need to read for yourself. Automation isn't going away. / The Economist

Why you Shouldn’t Skip a Linguistics Analysis Before you Pick a Company Name “The three basic metrics to test for are pronounceability, negative meanings, and existing brand associations.” / Rewind and Capture

Review: I tried Levi's $350 denim jacket featuring Google technology — and it made my commute so much better I’ve tried this jacket, too. All I can say is that I wish they made a ladies version because the cut on this one is strictly for guys with trim waists and big shoulder muscles. Also how 'alterable' is "smart" clothing? / Business Insider

The Feds Can Now (Probably) Unlock Every iPhone Model In Existence / Forbes

Now we know why Siri was so dumb for so long / Mashable

It turns out that humans don’t like robots that don’t like humans. Who could have predicted this?!?! / AV Club (no, not The Onion - this is a real story about people putting BBQ sauce on robots)

Robotic Tortoise Helps Kids to Learn That Robot Abuse Is a Bad Thing. What are the ethical implications of harming a robot? Do we get mad if people hurt their cars? Or are robots more like pets? Is there something predictive about how we treat robots? Or are humans actually smart enough to know that robots don’t have feelings and they’re just machines? Why do we describe breaking a robot as immoral, but we wouldn’t use the same description for a vacuum cleaner? I mean, unless it was a robot vacuum cleaner. / IEEE Spectrum

Robot ethics aside, here are the best things I bought this week:

Melatonin. I just returned from Tokyo and right now I’m confused by two things: 1. Which side of the sidewalk to walk on, and 2. How there is a 16 hour difference between Tokyo and San Francisco, and yet I am somehow not jet-lagged? I’m chalking this up to 3 mg of melatonin on my first night in each place (Yeah, just one pill, one time, each way - for $8.00 you get more melatonin than you'll use in 10 years). At this point, I don’t care if Melatonin is a placebo. I just know that I feel like a normal human being, which should be impossible.

Make your kid happy with a set of My First Temporary Tattoos: Adventure, Creatures, Sports, and More. These temporary tattoos are easy to apply and look cool for a week. The only downside is that a) they're an add-on item, and b) you have to use rubbing alcohol to remove them.

A PURSE THAT CAN FIT A 10.5” iPAD PRO IN A CASE INSIDE OF IT. And that’s all you need to know. Okay, also it is leather, it’s on sale for 70% off of the regular price. And it is SUCH A NICE BAG, with zipper pockets and places to put your charger and your wallet and even your pens.

Until next week! Abi Jones Editor, Locutius Is there something I missed? Reply to this email with a link! Want to chat? I’m on Twitter at @jonesabi Disclaimers: Yes, this newsletter includes affiliate links! I've made $2.14. Thank you, whoever clicked on a link in this newsletter and ended up buying The Hobbit: The Motion Picture Trilogy. And yes, I work at Google. The views in this newsletter are mine, not Google’s, obvs.

#locutius #locutiusletter #vui #voiceux

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