Im kind of in a bad mood can you tell me cute burkie stories
fear not, for i am about to tell you all of the burky stories that i can think of
we’ll start with the most iconic burky story: mistaking a stranger’s car for his uber. boy just got into a random-ass car. luckily the people were nice and took him to where he needed to go anyway
burky engages in almost constant twitter and instagram chirping with willy and latts
he will take any and all opportunities to engage in hugs
while tom wilson often claims that he (and occasionally latts) is the one to take care of burky, but really it’s the other way around. burky does all of the cooking (featuring swedish pancakes and swedish meatballs)
speaking of cooking: even though burky can make some swedish meatballs, he prefers to get them at ikea
when he was living with nicklas backstrom, evidently he acted like such a child that nicky actually called him his son
when the three brobeans lived together, burky and willy constantly engaged in wrestling, according to latts
as a teen in sweden burky did some modeling (for shampoo i think) and the pictures are so hilarious and awkward and burky is embarrassed by the whole thing
when the caps went to joint base andrews they made burky be the dummy for the attack dog
burky went vacationing with the carlsons, and in a poolside moment they were having a discussion and gina tried very hard not to say a certain word in her video, but when john asked what they were referring to, andre just immediately stated “VAGINA”
when the caps had their team bonding dart competition in new york it was around the time when burky was getting scratched, so in ovi’s instagram story you can see andre just drowning his sorrows in beer at eleven am
the boy CAN’T SING. at the halloween party he tried to sing abba karaoke and just failed miserably
speaking of the halloween party: he and willy went as the step brothers. fun fact: burky had never seen that movie before
nicky, mojo, and a swedish interviewer once pranked burky and the poor boy had no clue what was going on
he once posted a video of a snake in a cage, and he captioned the video “hate sneaks”
when the caps went to six flags in 2015, brooks laich convinced a terrified burky to go on the skydiving swing with him. brooks told andre he’d pull the cord on three but pulled it on one, causing some bloodcurling sceaming from andre and maniacal laughter from brooks
in the 2016 canine calendar shoot he was talking about how cute puppies are and how he just ones to take one home and cuddle everyday, AND THEN THE PUPPY CRIED AND HE GAVE IT A KISS
once played nhl 17 with willy, schmidty, and chorns; he scored an own goal and his teammate willy yelled at him
on swedish heritage night mojo stuffed some sort of cream roll into burky’s nose and burky declared “watch it jojo i’m coming for you”
went on a segway tour with nicky, mojo, and brooks laich, and i just….i can’t describe it you just have to watch
for picture day this year he fucking. with his hair. i can’t.
is the glue that holds the capitals together
god there’s so much i’m missing. the boy is so kind and cares so much and tries so hard what a gem
He’s standing in her office, with a neatly trimmed goatee and a head of curly hair piled high on his head, and he’s laughing at something Rachel from sports is saying, his lips stretched wide, his teeth a burst of white against the sunlight shining through the window, and it’s been three months and he’s still a wanted man and all Karen can think is oh thank god.
He glances up, catches her eye, and Karen’s breath catches in her throat. She’s seen him beaten, tired, hiding, terrified and bloody and angry, she’s seen him fight a smile and talk of the terrible greatness of love, but she’s never seen him like this, not a visible scratch or bruise and not even trying to hide how happy he is to see her.
Karen hefts her bag higher on her shoulder, regrets it as she watches the way his eyes dart towards it, a new one without a nice big bullet hole through the bottom of it, regrets the flicker of momentary hurt and confusion it causes as he watches her walk towards him.
There are flowers on her desk, bright and colorful, the salvia almost a dead match for the blue of his button up, and Karen barks out a laugh as he straightens from a lean, standing to attention like he might have done years ago for a commanding officer, ignores the occupied desk on her right as she bowls into him, arms tight around him, nose digging into his neck as he arms wrap right back around her.
Summary: Dustin thinks he’s finally gonna have a quiet, normal childhood after the events with the Demodogs and Dart, until a new threat shows up at his house in the form of a 17-year old girl.
Word count: 1,892 (whoops)
It’s not like Dustin hadn’t thought about it.
In the List of Things Dustin Henderson Had Dreamt About, having a sibling was very high up, along with holding the high score in all of the games in the arcade (that would prove to be a little more difficult since Max had moved to Hawkins) and piloting the actual Millennium Falcon (downright impossible, unless he settled for pretending to ride the model designed for the movie in a studio somewhere in Hollywood). But having a sibling, yeah. Not too hard, right?
He never really wanted a father. Her mum worked hard for them, was a loving parent and just the right amount of spacey, which gave him some freedom but did not make him feel overlooked. That came in handy when the events of Demodogs took place not long ago. And honestly, he had met Mike’s dad, so he was not impressed. Sure, Lucas’ father was a nice person, but Will’s was just the absolute worst. No, no reason for a kid like Dustin to search for a father figure.
But a sibling, that was something else. He adored Nancy and thought it might be cool to have an older sibling like her, even with all the bickering that went on between Mike and her. And anyways, he could appreciate the bickering. Hell, he wanted it. Okay, maybe not a sister, since Nancy was always yelling at Mike to stay out of her room and Erica kept calling Lucas a nerd and stealing his action figures to play with her dolls. She made them kiss, for Christ’s sake. He-Man was not a kisser.
But a brother, yes. Definitely. Will had a great relationship with his big brother, who adored him and went out of his way to make the kid feel good about himself. Maybe Dustin’s brother would have done the same. Maybe Dustin’s brother would have watched sci-fi movies with him, helped him during a particularly extensive Dungeons & Dragons campaign, put on some nice tunes in the car while they drove to school together.
He had pictured a cool, older brother. He had definitely not pictured the girl sitting on the reclining chair in front of him, nervously tapping her fingers on the duffle bag sitting atop her lap.
“A SISTER?!” Lucas yelled.
The kids were on the Wheeler’s basement, where they reconvened after a very urgent message from Dustin, who kept calling “Code brown! Code brown!” on the walkie-talkie. Code brown wasn’t as bad as code red, but it still meant “things were turning to shit”, according to him.
Dustin closed his eyes, turned to Lucas exasperated and opened them, their faces a few inches apart. “Buddy, you don’t have to yell. I’m right here.” Lucas rolled his eyes.
“That’s the weirdest thing ever.”
“Dude, that’s the weirdest thing ever?? We fought a Demogorgon last year, his army of Demo-dogs this year, El here can move and break things with her mind – her mind, Lucas –, Will was taken to another dimension and was possessed by a freaking monster, I adopted a goddamn swamp monster, whose face opened up and he ate my cat – and that’s the weirdest thing ever?”
“Ugh, I know right?,” Dustin said, looking defeated and falling on the couch behind him.
He would be lying if he said he wasn’t appreciating the attention, especially from Max. It’s not that he didn’t know Lucas and her had kissed or whatever, but he still had a crush on her and it made him feel nice that she was invested in his story as much as everyone else. ‘Don’t care,’ he thought, hearing Steve’s voice in his mind. ‘She’s just gonna break your heart and you’re too young for that shit.’
“Half-sister,” she corrected, looking at Lucas. Everyone looked at her with a puzzled face. “She’s not his sister, she’s his half-sister. There’s a difference.” Mike ignored her and rolled his eyes. “So, now what? Is she gonna live with you? What does she want? Who is she?”
“Here it is…” Claudia lingered as she extended the girl a glass of water.
“(Y/N),” Claudia repeated, sitting down on the couch next to Dustin. The girl had realized two things: one was that she hadn’t introduced herself, which made sense since her mind was going a million miles per hour, anxiety through the roof as it had been for months. And two, was that that was the very first time she heard her mother say her name. Her mother. Who didn’t even know her name. That’s weird, right? Parents are supposed to know their kids’ names. But then again, (Y/N)’s life had always been weird.
It sounded nice. Until Dustin repeated, in a slightly disgusted voice.
Her mother looked at him, ready to reprimand him, but she backtracked soon enough. This was a shitty situation and he was just a child. The best course of action here, and especially with a kid like Dustin, would be to explain everything thoroughly. Claudia looked at (Y/N), then at her son, turning to him on the sofa. The young girl couldn’t wait a second longer, knowing that she would listen to the story of her own life told through another perspective.
“I… Here’s what happened.” She took a deep breath. “It was a mistake, honey. Your father travelled around a lot for work, he was rarely ever here, even in the beginning of our marriage. I was always alone in this house, and I just really needed to talk someone. This man, he was really sweet and caring. So I made a mistake.”
(Y/N) looked down at her hands. So she was a mistake. ‘Nice, very nice,’ she thought sarcastically. (Y/N) took a deep breath and remembered the words: “Sarcasm is the last refuge of the weak mind”. Well, that’s what she was, right? Weak.
Dustin felt weird. He had never met his father, and his mother rarely talked about him, if ever. This felt like an important moment for him, as he might finally get some answers.
Claudia kept going.
“I panicked. This was around the time your dad had been in Canada for months, so he would’ve known and I don’t know what he would’ve had done if he had found out. I went through hell in those nine months, trying to hide the pregnancy whenever he came home, which was only for a few days at a time. Your Aunt Sylvia helped me. She helped me conceal my pregnancy and gave up the baby as soon as she was born,” she said, throwing the girl a quick glance.
‘I don’t know what he would’ve had done if he had found out.’
That sentence stuck to Dustin’s mind like glue.
“When I had told David, this other man, what was going on, I didn’t think he would be happy, but he was. He was ecstatic. He was in love with me and had always wanted a child. Maybe in his mind, being pregnant with his kid would force me to leave your dad, but I couldn’t. Your aunt and I were convinced that David would’ve made things more complicated, so I lied to him. I told him I had had an abortion. That’s the name of your father, (Y/N). David-”
“I know.” she answered flatly. “I found out he didn’t knew I existed the hard way.” At her sudden unpleasantness, Claudia looked down at her lap, sorrow and sadness taking over her features. (Y/N) felt Dustin’s eyes on her and he looked pissed.
Damn, (Y/N) had every right to be rude. She had driven all the way to her father’s farm in the middle of nowhere only to have the door slammed on her face. It took weeks until he finally accepted she wasn’t lying, or looking for money, or going crazy.
But for some reason, having that curly-haired boy angry at her made her feel bad for Claudia.
“When I reached out to him, he was actually… relieved? When he finally realized that I wasn’t lying, I mean.” This was the most (Y/N) had talked. “As much as he’s upset that you lied to him, which he is, he’s more happy that you didn’t go through with the… procedure.”
The look on Claudia’s eyes were indecipherable. (Y/N) thought she saw a spark of hope, a tiny slither of light upon the notion that a man she once loved didn’t really hate her. Her mother offered her a small smile, and that seemed to have satisfied Dustin.
There was a silence, the wheels turning for everyone as they tried to understand everything that had happened.
Dustin had to face the fact that his father hadn’t been a very nice person, which he had known to some extent. And the fact that his mother was a flawed woman, which was a little harder to comprehend.
“(Y/N), I’m sorry. You got caught up in this mess and you’re only-God, you’re 17-years old, aren’t you? You’re just a kid. How did you find me? How did you end up here?”
“I don’t know. I guess she’s looking for answers, or some dumb shit? She’s staying at this hotel, I think. She’s not gonna live with us. And she’s just a boring, dumb teenager, who cares.” Dustin turned his attention to the top of the stairs, where someone had cleared their throat. Steve was standing there, hands on his hips, an annoyed look on his face.
“I regret ever giving you my number.”
“Where the fuck have you been?” Dustin complained.
“Uh, I was living my life? What’s so urgent, dipshit?”
“The new member of the Henderson family.” Lucas snickered and Dustin glared at him.
“Yeah, Paws, right? I met that stupid cat, he did this.” Steve pointed to a scratch in his left hand, while he approached the gang. “He’s hardly a new member, and this does not constitute an emergency, butthead.”
“No. Dustin’s sister,” El said.
“Half-sister,” Max corrected one more time.
“Oh my God, who cares?” Mike yelled, glaring at the new girl. Lucas came to her defense, Max complained that Mike was still being an asshole, Jane stared at them, confused, and Will just kept rolling his eyes, telling everyone to calm down because none of that was important at the moment. While the heated argument was going on, Steve sat down next to Dustin.
“What, the, hell, Dustin.”
“My mom had a daughter before she had me, and I just found out today because the fucking girl showed up at my house,” he said, annoyed. “See, Steve?! That’s what you get for being late. I specifically called a code brown and you took too fucking long to get here and now-”
“Don’t get fresh with me, dumbass.” Steve interrupted. He rubbed his chin and ran a hand through his hair. “Is this for real? Do you want a ride home? Do you want to talk about it?”
Dustin looked at the screaming gang and then at Steve. He felt tired all of a sudden and just wanted to go home. Perhaps Steve would help him, as he had helped the last time. His advices and words of encouragement had been really cool the last time, maybe he would be able to help Dustin one more time.
“Yeah, sure.” They both stood up.
“Also, I’m sorry. This definitely constitutes an emergency.”
Context: We are playing Pathfinder: Rise of the Runelords. We call our party “The Walking Jokes”. A goblin raid was planned for the city of Sandpoint and the party was exploring smuggling tunnels that the goblins were coming through. We came across the outside entrance to the tunnels and decided to trap the already secret door. Our Gnome Rogue was put in charge.
Gnome Rogue (Rose) OOC: I’ll set up a few poison darts by the door.
DM: Okay. Roll for Enable Device.
Human Rogue (Hairy) OOC: I would like to check Rose’s work.
DM: Okay. Roll for Disable Device.
Hairy: (Rolls a Nat 1).
DM: Not only do you know it works, but make a fortitude save.
Hairy: (Rolls another Nat 1) Shit.
DM: You fall to the ground and take two points of damage.
Human Bard (Mandy)OOC:(Slow claps).
Half-Elf Druid (Anna;Me): I’m not gonna waste a Cure Light Wounds on that idiot.
Human Paladin (Shaw): For once, I agree with the tree hugger.
Half-Elf Ranger (Scout): Great! Now Rose has to waste more time and darts setting a new trap. Great Job Hairy!
Prompt: Reader steals George’s socks before a cuddling session, which Fred rudely interrupts.
Word count: 1,389
It was magnificent what a change in weather did to the world. With the snow pouring down around the atmosphere like a snow globe, the homey landscape outside the Burrow appear as a scenery straight from a Hallmark holiday card.
There were no visible lights, other than the strings placed around the wooden hut. Flashes of red, green, blue, and yellow flickered on a timed schedule. All the world was silent while the snow cascaded down to the ground in a soothing waterfall pattern.
You positioned your weight forward, hands clenching the window sill. The prepossessing sight was more captivating than any show you had witnessed before. Winter was a beautiful season despite the harsh cold brought along with the change of season.
The snow blanketed ground seemed so near though as you pressed your hand against the chilling glass perception struck unmasking the hundreds of feet down to the covered ground.
That feel when you’re studying hyperpituitarism and suddenly get hit big time by the inspiration bug and something just spills out. Was going to be a quick text post and basically became a short fic on why Timkon is so fucking beautiful and I’m a bit emotional now. Time: 35 minutes done straight through, no edits.
Superboy fell in love with Timothy Drake piece by piece before he ever knew what love was. To him there was never really anyone else, Robin had simply been there, cared when no one else would and Conner’s entire concept of love was based solely around Tim.
It started with insecure, friendly smiles in Mount Justice, with the uncomfortable realization that he had more in common with Batman’s genius protégé than he’d initially thought. There were gentle words assuring Superboy of his humanity, of his worth and affectionate touches to the hands or shoulder. Long explanations on history or culture or personal events, lovingly explained to the new clone without a trace of superiority. Anger and frustration at Bart, Cassie, Batman, himself most of all, sometimes that anger was directed at the clone but it never hurt the way Superman did.
It continues with stupid fights, arguing over petty power struggles and places on the team. Robin nursing wounded flesh and broken bones but still taking the time to ask after the near invulnerable boy’s health. Tears and fears of death or life, after death was certain and was suddenly revoked leaving the boys stranded in a life they thought lost. But heartache made them stronger and somehow, in the middle of the collapse and implosion of Young Justice, Conner realizes that he cannot imagine life without that idiot Robin around. As friend or rival or teammate, he was always there and Superboy takes the moment to truly appreciate him.
It grows as Superboy himself does, becoming Conner Kent in addition to the Superboy. He lives on a farm and goes to school when he has to but he never forgets Robin. The slow growing love was found in exchanged texts half a continent away after Conner finally got a phone, hiding the exchanges behind the backs of their respective parents and mentors. It flourished during sunny San Francisco days spent kicking bad guy butt, his best friend at his back and was tempered by more pointless arguing, done because neither refuse to address the real problems in their lives. There are more gentle touches, innocent, well-meaning brushes of skin and gloves and clothes to convey something deeper than either understood.
It even develops as Conner kisses Cassie for the first, second, fiftieth, one hundredth time. He loves Cassie, he truly, truly does. He loves her hair and her smile and her strength and her brightness. But she is his sun, the one he wants to be with when he’s happy; he can never bring himself to tell her his troubles or thoughts or go beyond the picturesque daydream of their relationship. He smiles with Cassie and unloads on Tim, telling the human all his fears and wishes which are validated with a small, understanding smile. Cassie yells at him, why doesn’t he talk to her? He tells her he loves her but now Cassie is crying and saying it isn’t love if he only gives her a small portion of his heart. He tells her she’s wrong and then goes to talk to Tim.
Conner gets his first flush of realization on a mission, an ordinary one. There’s explosions and cursing villains and everything is loud and deafening in his ears. And then Robin is in his face, his mask all scrunched up in concern and everything fades. The whole world narrows in on Tim’s concern, his pounding heartrate, fast and fragile like a bird’s, and the gloved hand resting on Conner’s chest. The moment end and the sounds return but it sticks out in Conner’s mind as something special in a way he can’t describe. He can’t talk to Cassie. They are having troubles in their on-again, off-again relationship and he hates what that conflict has done to them. He misses being her friend. Conner settles on Bart and, completely out of character, the speedster smiles in a knowing way and runs off without a word.
It grows and grows without any further revelation until he reaches his last breath. As his life flashes before him following his battle with Superboy Prime, he is surprised by how Tim pervades every moment of his life and memories. Even during the times when the other boy wasn’t around, his words or his explanations or his stupid sense of caring hang over Conner's bitterly short life. He finds himself wishing suddenly and painfully to see Tim right then, more than Ma or Clark or Cassie. He loves them all and always will but none of them have ever been there for him like Tim was. Tim who showed him how to skateboard and sewed up his t-shirts on away missions and pushed Conner into a lake one time and cried for hours on his shoulder when his dad died. Robin entered his life uneventfully but, piece by piece, became Conner’s everything. Out of the corner of his hazy vision, he catches a glimpse of red, yellow and green. His last act is to reach for those achingly familiar colors that are always too far away.
Conner doesn’t remember coming back to life or breathing again after centuries of stillness and death. The first thing he properly remembers in the medical ward in the 31st century is an old, old memory of Tim sitting with Conner on the roof of Ma Kent’s barn. Tim is talking about his parents, the loneliness of his childhood, the guilt of being Robin behind their backs. He asked Conner if there was anything he’d go back and change, if he could. Conner had said something stupid, of course, but at the time he couldn’t think of one thing he’d like to fix. Now lying on a bed, a long ways away from his home, he cries silently and regrets never telling Tim that everything Conner was, wanted to be, was because of Tim. He’s given the opportunity to go back to his time and takes it without a second thought.
A thousand variations of their reunion fluttered through Conner’s head as he flew to Tim’s last reported sighting. He imagined Tim breaking face, being all gross and teary and blubbery as he breaks character and hugs him. He wonders if Tim will be angry for leaving everyone behind and refuse to speak to him. He briefly contemplates sweeping the bird off his feet and planting a big wet one on him, but decides that might be for later. He isn’t expecting what he finds: Tim slightly taller and definitely more muscular in a costume that reminds him of everything wrong about Batman. Even his heart sounds different, no longer the fluttery little birds heart, so strong and brave despite his fears but the steady, resolute beat of a man willing to do anything for his beliefs. He feels like a stranger and Tim’s weak attempts to pretend things are normal feel like such a betrayal to the friendship they once had, to the person Tim used to be.
As weeks and months pass, Conner learns the events that broke and reshaped his best friend into this cold, dark person. He feels anger like he’s never known to think of how unfairly Tim was treated in his absence. Tim, who gave more than anyone should be expected and who would light himself on fire to keep his friends warm, was let down by those he trusted. Pushed and pushed to be better despite the hurt only to be kicked to curb when Batman’s kid showed up and demanded the Robin costume. He’ll never forget the feeling when he saw Tim shirtless for the first time afterwards. His eyes darted from one new scar to another, each one bad enough to have taken Tim away for good. His fingers had reached out to the large one across Tim’s abdomen from his emergency splenectomy. Instead he turns around and goes to vomit in the nearest restroom. He asks Clark about why he, or any of the League, didn’t do anything to help. Conner hears weak excuses about Tim being strong enough to handle it. He slams the door to Clark’s apartment so hard it breaks when he storms out.
Despite the guilt, Conner still feels a sense of loss and betrayal over Tim’s transformation. He’d survived death and future only to come back and find his rock and his lifeline has been twisted beyond recognition. It’s rude and unfair but he feels it anyway. But then there’s a moment, they’re going over a case and Conner makes the obligatory stupid comment and Tim reciprocates and his mouth does this dumb thing that’s almost a smile and everything is good. Once he starts looking, he finds all sorts of Old Tim buried inside this New Tim that comes out at odds moments. There are even new habits there that are so endearingly Tim that he finds himself liking them anyway. Once upon a time, Tim had wormed his way into his clone heart and now, despite everything, he does it all over again one broken piece at a time
New Tim doesn’t smile much anymore, not counting those fakey smiles he gives on TV. Old Tim was always a little sleep deprived but New Tim takes it to an unhealthy extreme. New Tim is both stronger and scarier than ever before but it seems Conner is the only one who notices that Tim is like glass, right on the edge of shattering completely. Conner wants to help this Tim, this unhappy mix of New and Old, but he doesn’t know how. So he goes back to the start. Delicate touches, stupid jokes and stupider arguments, long, detailed explanations on his feelings of the Wendy reboot and how his History teacher is a crank. There are friendly smiles, understanding eyes and an open ear to all the burdens this new boy has to bear; offered freely just as Tim had done for him years ago. There are too many nights spent listening to Tim rant and rave about the injustices done to him; holding back his too long hair as he gets sick recalling painful memories and too many nights all of Conner’s efforts seem hopeless.
But then the smiles begin to come back, slowly but surely, those small, little Robin smiles that makes Conner’s heart leap. Friendly touches get returned, hesitantly at first but soon Tim’s hands on his back or shoulder becomes familiar. Tim lays out his troubles and listens as Conner absorbs and repeats back that those things shouldn’t have happened and by God does Tim look so relieved and vulnerable in that moment. Conner pulls his boy close, bringing his big arms around Tim’s tiny body and squeezes him as hard as he dares. The air is electric and this is the time in any normal movie the hero would say I love you and sexy shenanigans would ensue. But Tim turns to look up at him with big, watery eyes and it’s written all over his face, no words needed. Conner brings his head down until their foreheads are nearly touching. Piece by piece they fell in love, little things adding up into big things becoming something bigger than they’ll ever be able to describe. So they decide to leave all words behind and just appreciate how much bigger and better the world is to have the other in it.
Mulder goes away for the weekend so Scully has to take care of his fish and one of them dies and she has to scramble to replace it
He trusted her. That’s what he said, in those exact words: “I trust you, Scully. The fish know you. They’ll be comfortable with you.”
So, here she was, on a Sunday morning, truly considering autopsying a dead goldfish as she stood in Mulder’s bathroom over the toilet because this couldn’t possibly be her fault. She shook the cup in her hand just a little, wondering if maybe the fish was just playing dead, pulling a prank on her. It would be just like one of Mulder’s fish to play that kind of joke on her.
“Wake up,” Scully said, giving another shake of the cup. “Come on, wake up. Move those fins.”
The fish remained belly up and Scully sighed. She looked at her watch. Mulder’s flight was due in less than two hours from now. She’d taken damn good care of those fish for the last four days, stopping by every evening to feed them and even spending an hour cleaning the aquarium yesterday. She even got them a new little castle to play in.
“He trusted me,” Scully told the dead fish, holding the glass up so she could look at it eye-level. “Traitor.”
Poised to drop the fish in the toilet, Scully paused and then checked her watch again. She knew from her trek to purchase the little plastic castle that the pet shop by her apartment wasn’t open for another hour. And that wouldn’t leave much time. She took the glass with her and found Mulder’s phone book in his desk drawer. There was no answer at the first four pet supply stores listed in the yellow pages, but she got in touch with someone on the fifth try.
“Goldfish,” Scully said, holding the little cup up to the window where the sun was just starting to shine around the faded remains of a taped ‘X’. “Pale yellow, white belly, thin, maybe two inches in length. Do you have one?”
“Maybe,” said the salesman. “I guess. We got lots of fish.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Scully held a short funeral back at the toilet, crossing herself and shutting her eyes as she flushed the fish down. She washed the cup and got in her car. The pet shop was a ten minute drive, next to a drug store. A bell jingled as she entered and the smell of kibble hit her immediately. An elderly man with a green apron appeared out of one of the aisles.
“You the lady that called about the fish?” he asked.
“Come on back to the tanks.” He waved her over and she followed him down the narrow aisles to the back of the store where about twenty tanks bubbled in a dark space. He pointed out the goldfish tanks to her and she inspected them closely.
“Too orange,” she murmured. “Too fat…too small…”
“You got a little one at home lost one of their school?” the man asked.
“Something like that. This one!” Scully tried to point out a fish amongst the others that was darting around. It wasn’t easy to pinpoint, or for the old man to catch in his net. He finally gave it to Scully after catching the wrong fish twice and she managed to wrangle the chosen replacement after a few minutes. Half her arm was wet by then and she was pretty sure the rest of the fish were traumatized, but she caught him.
“Remember to let him acclimate,” the salesman reminded her as she paid for it.
Fifteen minutes later, Scully was pacing in front of the tank, watching the plastic bag with the new fish float around the top of Mulder’s tank. What if the other fish don’t like the new fish? What if the new fish don’t like the others? What if Mulder notices the difference? What if another one dies? What if…
“It’s just a stupid fish,” Scully said out loud, peering intently into the tank. She checked her watch. Another ten minutes for the fish to acclimate. An hour before Mulder’s flight landed.
Scully’s cell phone rang and she answered it without looking. “Scully.”
“You wouldn’t be available to swing by my apartment right now would you?”
“I’m…actually already here. Why? Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane?”
“Got an earlier flight. I’m in a cab right now on my way home, but I can’t find my keys.”
“You’re…in a…how far away are you?”
“I don’t know, fifteen minutes maybe.”
“Fifteen…I was just feeding the fish. I’ll…stay here.”
“Thanks, Scully. See you soon.”
“Dammit,” Scully said, hanging up the phone.
Fifteen minutes could mean ten. Could mean five. What should she do? Dump the fish in without letting it fully acclimate? Wait it out? She watched the time tick by on her watch, biting her thumbnail. At nine minutes, she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Sorry little guy,” she muttered, untwisting the rubber band from the top of the plastic bag. “You’re just going to have to deal with this.”
Holding her breath, she dumped the new fish in the tank and watched closely as it darted through it’s new environment, disturbing the other fish who flew out of its way. They all settled after a few moments and all seemed normal.
Engrossed with the fish, she jumped when there was a knock on the door. “Shit,” she whispered, looking at the wet plastic bag in her hand. Grimacing, she shoved it in her pocket and then wiped her hand off on the front of her jeans.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Mulder said when she opened his door, pushing past her with his luggage.
“How was the conference?”
“Conference-like. Next time Skinner sends me to one of these things, I think I’m going to develop a spontaneous hemorrhoidal condition.”
Scully eyed Mulder nervously as he dropped a briefcase on his desk and ran his hand over the stack of mail she’d been collecting. She tried not to glance at the fish tank, hoping he wouldn’t either.
“Well,” she said, turning to head to the door. “I should…”
“Hey!” Mulder called and she froze, turning slowly. He was peering inside the tank, tapping on it slightly. She clenched her jaw.
“I’m sorry,” she said, guilt eating at her for trying to trick him. “I just thought-”
“Where’d that castle come from?”
“…I just thought the fish might like it.”
Mulder smiled and stood up straight, walking over to her. “If you need any references as a fishsitter, I’ll be happy to provide.”
“I think I’ll stick to my day job.” She hesitated. “Do you need my key back?”
“Nah, I’ve got copies. You keep it. In case of fish emergencies.”
“Welcome back. See you at work tomorrow.”
“See ya.” Mulder waved and then plopped down on his couch.
Scully gave a little wave of her own and then headed to the door. Suddenly, she didn’t feel very trustworthy. Like his trust was misplaced and undeserved. “Dammit,” she muttered under her breath, turning back around. “Mulder, I can’t lie to you. One of the fish died. I found it floating belly up this morning and I went to the pet store and got a new one. I don’t know what happened, it was fine yesterday, they were all fine yesterday, I even cleaned the tank and I got them the castle and they were fine. I didn’t save the body, but if you ask me, it had to be some sort of pre-existing condition or old age or…or whatever else it is that fish die from.”
Mulder raised his brows at her and then chuckled. “Scully, I’m lucky if I make it a month without losing one of the little suckers. They cost a quarter at the shop around the corner, which is probably why I go through so many of them.”
Scully’s cheeks burned a little with embarrassment. “Well, this one was two dollars. Maybe it’ll last longer.”
“Maybe.” He grinned at her, pushed himself up from the couch, and walked towards her. He touched her wrist with his index finger a little bashfully. “See you tomorrow, partner.”
Relieved of her burden, she nodded once and turned to walk away. He’d never really called her ‘partner’ like that. Like he meant it. She smiled as she left his apartment.
Raven pinched the bridge of her nose as the changeling put down yet another dollar for the chance to pop balloons for a prize.
“Ah, ah, ah~” He gave her a few wags of his finger before picking up his three darts. “Now that I am officially your boyfriend, I am required by law to win you a minimum of one prize per visit to the fair.”
The empath exhaled through her nose, something between a sigh and a laugh, before shaking her head. He was so ridiculous sometimes, though she supposed that was part of his charm.
“It’s your money…”
“And it’ll be your prize~” The green teen grinned as he threw a dart, only for it to miss.
“You know, you could just buy a stuffed animal at the store for a fraction of the price.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He managed to hit a balloon with the dart, but it merely bounced off, leading him to let out a frustrated groan.
“Because you’re having so much fun now…”
“Hm…” He cocked his head in thought before smiling. “You’re right. Just one more try and we’ll move onto something else. Promise.”
Raven let out a sigh of relief as Beast Boy put down the last dollar he’d spend on the blasted game.
“Alright, gotta make this one count…” He reached for one of the darts, only to knock them all off the counter and to the ground in front of him. “Oops… Hang on. I got it.” He knelt to the ground to obtain the darts.
The magus rolled her eyes when she couldn’t help but notice Beast Boy flicking one of the darts away and pulling a brand new dart out from his pocket. It took a moment to register, but when it did, she smirked.
Clever, she thought to herself. Beast Boy may not know everything, but he was far from dumb.
“Yes!” Beast Boy cheered after his non-rigged dart popped a balloon. “That’ll be one prize, please~ C'mon, pick one!” He gestured to the various plush toys on the wall.
Raven shook her head with a small smirk as she approached the counter to get a closer look at the prizes. She didn’t really care what the prize was, but she figured she should at least put a little thought into it. She soon pointed to a little plush in the corner and, with a huff, the game’s attendant handed it to her.
Now in her hands was a piece of unlicensed Teen Titans merchandise: a Beast Boy plush.
“Not one word,” the empath warned as she tucked the plush away.
Summary: You have spent your lifetime being isolated from the outside world. Once a new chapter begins, where you ought to adapt yourself to the life of an ordinary teenager, the initial story starts to fall apart.
Word Count: 5.4k
(A/N): Hello party people, firstly, I claim credit for none of the following GIFs — the first one isn’t related to the story, I just liked it — Anyway, I hope you’ll enjoy reading this x
You stood in front of the mirror, tilting your head to the side while doubtfully observing the reflection. More specifically, the outfit, which delicately wrapped around your curves. Letting a defeated sigh escape your lips, you found yourself carelessly tossing the items of clothing, which were covering your body mere seconds ago, onto the pile of clothes on your bed; enlarging it.
How did normal people dress to school?
“Stupid question“, you murmured to yourself. You would be the last person to be familiar with the term “normal”, judging by the circumstances you grew up with. You struggled with recalling most of your childhood; but to this very day, the only parental figure in your life was your aunt, Camila. She had pursued a successful career in the field of science — a very intelligent woman — you admired her deeply.
Not only did she provide you with unconditional love, she homeschooled you throughout your first years of schooling as well. Up until now, your first day of high school. As cliché as it seemed, the concept of being around people your age was intimidating. The objective of “blending in” sounded utterly absurd to your ears. Being surrounded by sole individuals of pure intellect every day did not teach you how to behave or how to communicate like an ordinary high school student. Of course, you did your homework and watched a solid number of teenage chick flicks, but even you realised they were unrealistic.
Suddenly, a ringing voice broke your train of thought. “(Y/N), dear, if you manage to finish getting ready in the next five minutes, I might be able to give you a ride to school!”, your aunt informed you.
Refusing to let apprehension get the best of you, you rapidly decided for an outfit. It was not that much worth debating over after all. Leaving the house, you headed towards the car and carefully placed your school bag inside the boot, next to your aunt’s luggage for her research trip.
“I am ready to bounce!” you spoke enthusiastically, your voice laced with reluctance while fastening your seatbelt.
Your aunt arched an eyebrow at your choice of word. “You are ready to “bounce”?” she repeated, emphasising the verb.
“It is a slang word, aunt Camila”, you explained fondly, “I have taken time to familiarise myself with the language people my age use these days. I believe that will help me make some friends.”
For the record, you had never been a fan of short language. Nevertheless, communication is highly substantial. Therefore, you made a great effort to improve your vernacular; you even purchased a book about it the other day. “I’m very tempted to hear, that you had finally come to terms with the change of your environment. However, I’m positive there are better options for you to widen your social group.”
Her painfully honest and somewhat loving remark thinned the fragment of confidence you had worked up for the past few days. Sinking into your seat, you mentally made a note to yourself to get rid of the book, which initially, lay peacefully between your school supplies.
“Anyhow, I trust you have taken your medicine?”, your aunt sternly mentioned.
“Yes, ma'am”, you lied through your teeth.
The pressure of going to a public school had driven you frantic; to the point, where you had misplaced the capability of thinking clearly. You were eventually going to ease yourself into attending social events, but this is like taking your driver license test with a bus.
Admittedly, you could not think of one day, where you were not obligated to take the medicine, hence your weak immune system. On the other hand, a ten minutes argument with your aunt — which you would undoubtedly lose — and being late on your first day of school, as a consequence of driving back home to get the pill, inflamed the urge to bang your head against the wall again, again and again.
As soon as you set foot in the school building, the fear of being excluded gradually became bigger. Taking further steps down the hall, you silently thanked the gods for all the reasons students were rushing by without acknowledging the presence of other people in their surroundings; including you.
It did not take you much effort to successfully find the room of your first class. It appeared to be one of the school’s chemistry laboratory. Evidently, it was a light year far away from the ones you had encountered at the research corporation your aunt worked at. Trying to make yourself inconspicuous — preferably, invisible — you entered the four walls and settled on an available seat.
“So far, so good,” you told yourself, letting out an unsteady breath. You had made it this far without any inconvenience. But if something seemed too good to be true, it probably is.
“What time do you have to be back in heaven?”
You were no stranger to flirtatious pick-up lines. Lifting up your gaze, you were met with a male student. He was of average height with dark hair and brown eyes. “I beg your pardon?”, you responded respectfully.
Unfortunately, your politeness prompted him to open a conversation. “The name’s Eugene Thompson, but friends call me Flash”, the guy introduced himself. He stood leaning over the chair next to yours, with his hand on the table, supporting his weight.
“Eugene it is”, you mumbled to yourself.
“I didn’t know angels could fly so low“, he continued shamelessly. Shifting uncomfortably in your seat, you silently prayed for a saviour.
You failed to notice a boy approaching the two of you; right on cue. “S’cuse me”
His tensed voice instantly captured your attention.
“That’s my seat”, the nameless guy stated, every word dripping with annoyance.
“No need to get angry”, Eugene held his arms up in surrender with a vexing grimace on his face and turned to you as he walked away, “Talk to you later, angel-face.“
You had to refrain from rolling your eyes at his attempt at flattery and offered him a smile, which did not reach your eyes, instead.
The moment he had vanished, your focus returned to the person, who quietly had taken a seat next to you. It took a fair amount of containment to resist the temptation of eyeing the male student thoroughly. Nevertheless, you were able to perceive the most prominent features of his appearance in the corner of your eye. The fact that he was attractive was undeniable. He also happened to appear awfully supple with the grey sweater hugging his defined frame and his fluffy brown hair, which shifted into place once his hand had gone past.
Minutes — which literally felt like hours — of silence later, the teacher had arrived and opened his lesson. How interesting his words might be, it was unsuccessful at drawing your attention. Perhaps, the soft boy was just too captivating. Damn your teenage hormones. Hypothetically, if the two of you remained in your seats until the end of the year, you would have to converse eventually, right? Little did you know, his thoughts were the same as yours as you pondered to yourself. On impulse, you whirled around.
So did Peter, at the exact moment.
Your breath hitched your throat.
Happy coincidence? Didn’t think so. He was at least as nervous as you. That was relieving; more or less. Unlike you, he was fidgeting crazily. Tugging at the collar of his shirt or the sleeves of his sweater, scratching the back of his head and unconsciously shaking his leg.
Both of you took a shaky deep breath to process the situation that had just occurred and restored the eye contact.
You were lost for a moment. Simultaneously doomed for all eternity because no other eyes will compare to his pair of innocent brown ones.
The second you intended to break the silence, he beat you to it. “I‘m Parker Peter — wait, no — I‘m Peter. Peter Parker” he stammered and ended his jabbering with a nervous chuckle.
“(Y/N). A pleasure to meet you”, you mentally pinched yourself as the sentence left your mouth. What were the odds that a normal teenager would some say formal crap like that when introducing themselves to someone?
“The pleasure is all mine?”, he said while furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.
Excellent, he defiantly thought you were weird. You slightly turned in the other direction to hide your reddened cheeks.
“Welcome to the school”, he smiled contagiously.
Returning the gesture, you sincerely thanked him. That was nice. Maybe there was a chance of befriending-
“Ms. (Y/L/N), pardon me for interrupting your conversation with Mr Parker, but would you care to explain today’s chemical demonstration for the class?”, your teacher insisted, catching you off guard. An apologetic look overcame Peter’s face upon realising, that he had gotten you into trouble at the beginning of your first period at the new school.
Darting a glance at the board, you read the words “Elephant Toothpaste” and briefly skimmed through the notes about the materials and procedure. Since you voluntarily choose to cherish your time at your aunt’s laboratory, high school chemistry was a sheer child’s play in your eyes. You straightened your posture and confidently gave him an answer.
“Gladly Sir, today‘s chemical demonstration presents an example of a catalysed reaction. We require a solution of Hydrogen Peroxide and one of saturated Potassium Iodide. Once the solutions are mixed, we combine these chemicals with ordinary dish soap; creating an exothermic release of oxygen.”
The teacher only called upon you, due to the fact that he had caught you talking without permission. Clearly, he had not reckoned with your response. For the record, no one had. “Very well, Ms. (Y/L/N)”
Peter was completely astonished. The possibly most beautiful girl he had ever stumbled upon — and given the privilege to sit next to —, was seemingly interested in science; just like him! The boy was practically living in his day dream.
Shortly later, the students were granted the permission to execute the chemical demonstration themselves. Coincidentally, you and Peter had been assigned to be lab partners. It was going well; is what you would conclude based on your observation, with the exception of the distracting tiny awkward incidents.
For example, at the very beginning when you tied your hair back to avoid any futuristic mishaps — in other words, to satisfy your teacher — personally, it was the last thing you had worried about.
After gathering all your hair, you secured your high ponytail with an elastic you wore around your wrist. The whole time, you could sense a pair of eyes closely watching your every move.
“Why are you staring at me?”, you asked innocently.
Peter looked like he was daydreaming, with his chin in the palm of his hand. “You’re just so pretty.”
His eyes grew wide as he was brought back to reality. “You had a spider in your hair!”, he panicked.
“No! I thought- I thought you did, b-but turned out you didn‘t”, he reasoned unconvincingly, stuttering like a madman. There was no way he would admit the truth. The last thing he wanted you to do was to think of him as a creep.
Peter thought he had covered it smoothly, but boy was he wrong. To be honest, he looked quite adorable; all embarrassed and flushed. You also remembered that little incident when the two of you reached out for the same cylinder at the same time.
The two of you said in union, shyly pulling away at the physical contact and simultaneously letting go of the cylinder, causing it to almost hit the ground and spill the solution. Luckily, Peter had extraordinary quick reflexes — due to his spider sense — and caught it merely in time.
Your jaw dropped slightly at his instantaneous act; he was fast like the speed of light. “How did you manage to do that?”
“L-lucky catch”, he shrugged and tried to laugh it off.
Or when he told you that lame pun.
A chemistry joke, which Peter had come upon on the internet the other day, popped into his mind once he spotted the chemical in front of him. After debating over whether he should share it with you or not for about three minutes, he doubtfully took his shot.
“Hey (Y/N)!”, he yelled — which was totally unintentional — the boy was simply too damn nervous.
You jumped slightly at his volume but turn around in his direction with a smile. “Yes, Peter?”
“Wanna hear a joke about Hydrogen Peroxide?” he questioned enthusiastically. Likely, too enthusiastic, because his heart was racing at a dangerous pace.
“Okay, two men — no wait — two chemists walk into a bar. The first one says “I think I’ll have an H2O.” The other one says “I‘ll have an H2O too.””, he stopped for a dramatic effect, “A-and the second chemist died.”
You let out a hearty laugh, which brought a toothy grin upon Peter‘s face. “Goal accomplished“, he silently congratulated himself.
Despite the fact, that the ending was rather anticlimactic, the joke itself was clever and defiantly occasionally appropriate. Additionally, you were not going to burst his bubble. You weren’t heartless.
You had reached the last step of your chemical demonstration. Peter was given the honour to pour the last chemical into the cylinder. Right when a foamy substance commenced forming, Peter swiftly stepped away from the table.
“T-the reaction is exothermic, remember?”, he pointed out, “Don’t you feel the heat releasing?”
You shook your head “no” while gnawing on your lip. See, he did make sense; those were your exact words from earlier. How had you not perceived the heat? Peter had to abstain from it; it was apparently unbearable.
“Maybe it’s the draft”, he suggested.
“Yeah…”, you pushed the thought to the back of your mind and went back to taking notes.
Your school day went by faster than you expected. It turned out, that you had some more classes with Peter. You even joined him and his friend, Ned, at lunch. You were somewhat comfortable around each other now — no, that was an exaggeration — let‘s say, you two were capable of holding a proper conversation without turning into stammering messes.
You let out an agonising cry. Muscles tensed and twitching, nearly at the end of your tether. The moment you realised, that your physique had given up, the feeling of prickling and tingling spread from head to toe. In only a fraction of a second, the numbness had taken over. It was comparable to a frostbite. The only difference being, that the exposure was all over your whole body instead of just one specific area.
Hypothermia would be the next thing to set in, due to the alarming drop in body temperature. It would be the stage, where the systems of the brain and the heart commence to fail. Unexpectedly, it did not develop to that.
On the contrary, your system adapted the cold. You were a physical manifestation of the element ice. You felt yourself becoming stronger, faster, more durable, more powerful.
You imagined a magnificent wall. You imagined pressing your palms against it, comprehending its substance. You imagined whirls of ice creeping out of your fingers into the micro gaps of the wall, freezing it from the inside; stronger and stronger and-
You abruptly awoke.
Anxious and breathless. You sat up against the headboard of your bed, exhaling loudly just to be startled by the clarity of your own breath. Was is fog? No way, that would be preposterous. The water vapour in your breath only condenses into solid water when it was exceedingly cold.
That was when you processed the sight of your room. Every inch was covered in a glistening layer of ice.
You sucked in the cold air; it felt like a tonic entering your system. Your eyes flitted to your fingers, which were delicately coated with ice. Could they be the source of the unexplainable solid state of your bedroom? Once again, you were gasping for breath. Not only that, you were able to sense your heart rate increasing rapidly; along with dizziness and nausea.
In the blink of an eye, you were on your feet, marching towards your aunt’s humble home laboratory. You requested answers. A logical interpretation. Plainly, a hypothesis to boost your brain to rationalise this whole scenario.
Was this the first step of your descent into madness?
In no time, you were standing in front of the sophisticated room. The single thing, that was required to operate the laboratory, was the code. You knew it by heart, like the back of your hand; it was basically engraved in your mind. However, something else prevented you from gaining access to the room. It was your own blurry reflection in the massive glass doors.
With the lack of hesitation, you rushed into the bathroom to get a better glance at yourself. You could legitimately not trust your own eyes. Your brain was rejecting the image it had perceived.
Your hair was no longer in its natural hair colour. It had changed to the elegant tint of ivory; nearly white. Your skin was sickly pale, more than it had ever been before. Surging forward, you spot the striking white, which seemed to intertwine around the edge of your irises and the bluish tinge to your lips. Shakily grasping the thermometer nearby, you measured your temperature.
90 degrees Fahrenheit — or 32 degrees Celsius — you read.
That was impossible. The normal body temperature was 98 degrees Fahrenheit — or 37 degrees Celsius — You should not be alive!
You turned on the faucet and let the water slowly fill the sink. Hastily splashing water on your face while wishing to wake up from a harmless dream. Unfortunately, not every wish could come true. Letting out a frustrated huff, you dried off your face with a towel. Your body was still hovering over the sink. For the sake of curiosity, you unsteadily dipped one hand into the water. You watched how it moved softly around your fingers. Similiar to the dream, you closed your eyes and set your mind on only one thing. You tried to imagine ice coming out of your finger tips and breaking the water surface. You imagined urging the liquid to solidify.
After only seconds, you nearly snatched your hand back in shock when the solid ice touched the tip of your fingers. Opening your eyes, you were fascinated by what you had done to the pure liquid. The water that had run so freely was now trapped in an icy state.
For a split second, you felt a warm feeling of pride spreading through your chest. Nevertheless, that feeling quickly vanished as your anxiety unleashed. Clearly, you were incapable of controlling what kind of sorcery that was happening to you. Simply the vision of additional catastrophes that could happen throughout the whole day prodded you to nauseate.
Before you knew it, the alarm clock went off, meaning you ought to get ready for school. There was no time left for analysing this phenomenon any further. “This has to wait”, you conceded upon realising that missing your second day of school might give you a bad reputation.
“I know!“, Ned replied with the same enthusiasm, “You wanna build it tonight?”, he added excitedly.
“I can’t. I got the Stark Internship”, — of course he did — Peter claimed apologetically. He would have loved to build the Lego Death Star and felt truly sorry for disappointing his friend. On the other hand, what if Mr Stark needed him? He could not risk missing out on such an opportunity. Without noticing, that he had lost Ned’s attention, the guy started rambling. “Hopefully soon it’ll lead to a real job with him-”
“Is that (Y/N)?”, Ned asked while gesturing to a familiar figure.
Peter glared at his friend for interrupting him but turned in the direction he was pointing to. As soon as he did, his eyes grew wide. “Wow”, he breathed out in awe.
Both of them knew, that the question no longer necessitated an answer. It was exactly who they assumed it would be. Only with a drastic change of appearance. After three full minutes of unintentional creepy staring, one of them started speaking.
“She’s even hotter. What the hell?”, Ned exclaimed as if that personally offended him. Peter was still blindly captured in his own mind and failed to pick up his friend’s idea.
“Let’s have her sit at our table.”
“Come sit with us!”
Ned’s third attempt finally gained Peter’s attention. “Wha-what are you doing?”, he stammered dumbfounded. He was fully aware of what his friend was trying to achieve. The intention was nice, but it implicated him making a fool of himself in front of the new girl, whom he perchance had a shot with.
“Calling her over?” his friend responded like it was clearly self-evident. And indeed it was; the guy next to him just required some serious time to brace himself.
“Hi guys”, you greeted the two of them.
You were once again startled by his sudden pitch. “Hi”, you smiled.
The boy was too adorable for his own good. The baby blue sweater he was wearing today complimented his sweet eyes just ideally. To claim that they were brown, was to compare the sky to a simple blue canvas. His hair was more neatly styled than yesterday. Forgoing that thought, you took a seat in front of the two.
“You dyed your hair”, Peter blurted out.
Rolling his eyes at his friend for pointing out the obvious, Ned leaned over and whispered: “I think she already knew that.”
“Does it look bad?”, you tilted your head to the side.
Speaking of fools, the following showed an accurate presentation of one. “No, y-you look- your hair looks really good! I mean, you looked- your hair looked really good before, but now-”
Peter’s mouth plainly ran ahead of his skin sometimes; at least around girls, he wanted to impress. Luckily, Ned was present to put him to a halt. “Dude, shut up.”
“Thanks, Peter”, you chuckled; feeling a blush creeping onto your cheeks.
“B-but why did you choose that colour?”, he stuttered, not letting go of the topic.
“That’s called a fashion choice”, you silently thanked Ned for shutting down his friend’s question in his own witty way.
The moment you let out a relieved sigh, the scrutinising continued. “Are you sick? You look really pale.”
Peter had more precise observations; compared to his buddy. The tips of your fingers had a bluish shade to them; so did your lips. Your pair of tinted pupils were more conspicuous, but he chose against bringing them up.
“Poor circulation. Runs in the family”, you lied. Clearly, you did not trust either of them enough to tell the truth. Who said they would believe you anyway. As a matter of fact, you could not believe it yourself.
The boys had no choice, but to accept your excuse. Although, Peter had his suspicions. Maybe it was him exaggerating; but certain incidents, that occurred throughout the whole school day, appeared awfully abnormal.
The three of you sat on your seats as you waited for the teacher.
“Are you guys cold as well?” Ned inquired, scrunching up his face.
Peter nodded in agreement while tugging on the hem of his sweater, to pull them over his palms. “I‘m freezing.”
They were not the only ones; other students had become aware of the coldness as well. Soon enough, you joined in to avoid suspicion.
“S-same here”, you spoke, trying your best to sound as convincing as possible.
“I wonder why.“ You knew exactly why. If only there was a way for you to learn control your abilities.
“Perhaps, it’s the air conditioner“, you suggested quickly; way to be nondescript.
It seemed as if the two of them had bought it, or did they? At least Ned did. However, Peter was more sceptical. After the lesson, he stayed behind to inspect the AC; only to find out, that it was out of order. That case was only the tip of the iceberg of odd cases.
Later that day…
Somehow, you accomplished to injure yourself during your first gym lesson. It was probably something ridiculous that caused you to trip and fall over. Despite the hard landing, you did not feel a second of pain, which is strange; since you bruised like a peach.
“(Y/N)!”, Peter shouted from across the field. Only seconds later, you felt his presence next to you. The boy was all over the place. He did not want to show too much affection because you had only known each other for about two days. Nevertheless, the concerned expression on his face exposed him. “A-are you okay? Do you need a paramedic? An ambulance? I-I‘ll call an ambulance for you if-“
“Peter, calm down. I’ve got everything I need”, you giggled, putting a hand on his shoulder. His reaction to you getting hurt was sweet. The two of you hold eye contact for a brief moment before you had to force your gaze away from his. His stare lingered on you a little bit longer, until it flickered to your arm.
“Your elbow is bleeding!”, he exclaimed, scooting away for you to have a better look at it. A slight frown came upon his face once your hand left his shoulder.
“It’s a tiny scratch, it will heal in time“, you assured him calmly.
Peter stayed with you for the rest of the period, to make sure that he could be of some assistance if it was needed. A cute story, yet, the bizarre thing had not happened yet. Coincidentally, the both of you had the same lesson after gym period as well. In fact, Peter sat right behind you.
“(Y/N)?”, he voiced quietly and tapped on your shoulder causing you to clutch your heart in fright.
He cringed at his own actions and apologised at the same loudness. “Sorry, my bad, I-I didn’t mean to scare you”
In that exact moment, he noticed the wound, which had already healed. There was barely a scratch visible on your elbow. The accident was less than an hour ago; such an injury needed at least a week to cure. There was no probable reasoning he could come up with. Just, for now, he got rid of the thought.
Neither of you was certain of the fact, that you had the capability to heal yourself by absorbing frozen energies to use them to freeze molecules and regenerate damaged cells.
“Don’t worry about it, Pete“, you told him.
His heart fluttered and a blush seared through his cheeks at your little nickname for him. “D-Do you have a pen I could borrow?”, he whispered.
“Of course, you can take this one”, you gladly handed him the pen in your grip.
He took it by its end and gratefully thanked you. You cracked a small grin and turned back around. Once Peter properly grasped the pen, he instantly had to let go; due to the frozen section of it.
After examining the piece of school supply, he settled on the fact, that it was not normal ice. It didn’t melt as quickly; on the contrary, it hardly lost its form by the end of the lesson.
“What did this mean?”, he pondered to himself.
This would have to the most thoughtless and irresponsible thing you had ever done. You cursed at yourself for losing hold of time today in the research corporation. Only because your aunt had gone on a research trip, did not indicate that you couldn‘t delight the people at the laboratory with your presence. Everyone was family to you since you grew up around them. A well-known man, Doctor Bruce Banner, made an appearance today. Apparently, he was a close friend of your aunt. They worked together back then in Kolkata.
Anyhow, you deeply regretted taking the shortcut and endangering yourself at the same time; because exactly like in the movies, you found yourself walking through a dark alley. “This isn’t a movie”, you reminded yourself. You were going to be perfectly fine. There was nothing to worry a-
“What do we have here?”
Your body practically left your skin as you heard the deep voice. You knew better than to turn around to get a picture of the man. In fact, his shadow provided you with the visualisation you needed. He was taller than the average guy and well built. Just as expected, he followed your every step.
“A damsel in distress. All alone, at this ungodly hour”, he purred, catching up to you.
Your image of him proved to be spot on. Your heart was racing and a choking sensation prevented you from thinking rationally. Not making eye contact with the stranger, you quickened your pace.
You enthused him; in the phoniest way, there was. “May I ask for a name to put to the lovely face?”, he blocked your way.
“Please leave me alone“, you demanded, trying to sidestep the man numerous times.
His lips were tugged up to an amusing smirk. “A little pretentious one, now aren’t we?“, he challenged and reached out for your wrists. Before you could react, he had your arms in his tight grip above your head and your back harshly pressed against the wall.
Your high pitched squeal signalised Peter’s spider sense as he happened to be on patrol. Nearing the location, he discreetly observed the situation; before undertaking any reckless actions.
“It’s against the law to capture someone against their will!”, you protested. You attempted to pry his nasty hands away from your body while simultaneously summoning the courage to kick him in the balls when you were going to be given the chance. There was no way you were capable of overpowering the man, let alone outrun him.
“Not in this part of town.”
“I‘ve seen enough”, the hero growled to himself. However, the next thing that happened, caused him to refrain from intervening the alarming occurrence.
“Stop!“, you demanded as you proceeded to keep pushing against the man in front of you.
You hand was pressed against his chest. On unconscious instinct, you imagined ice spreading across his skin until it entirely enclosed his entire body in a solid layer. Little did you know, if he tried to escape during the process, he would presumably lose some essential body parts instead of breaking your ice. Overwhelmed by your own work, you slipped out of man‘s grasp.
Peter had been completely blown away by your performance. Being in the first row, equipped him with a clear vision of your cryokinetic abilities. To claim that you had impressed him, was an enormous understatement. He yet had to catch a glimpse of your face to identify the person behind such a fascinating superpower. The boy saw his chance and swiftly swung down to the dark alley, before letting you out of his sight.
“You can manipulate ice? That is awesome-”
You instantly fired your ice at the sudden voice. Startlingly, Peter’s spider sense failed to warn him about the unforeseen attack. Therefore, you managed to freeze him directly on the spot. Your jaw dropped open in shock the moment you recognise the stranger as Queen’s famous Spider-Man — you know, the one from Youtube — Thankfully, your shock was somewhat mitigated by the fact, that he probably had not seen your face. With that in mind, you rapidly went home; silently praying that Spidey somehow found a way to slip away.