Chapter Text
“Commotion and strange sounds coming from the Baxter Building as the First Family – New York City’s own crime-fighting team the Fantastic Four – fight off an attempt at an alien invasion from unknown forces. Correspondences from these high-flying heroes with the Daily Bugle’s own J. Jonah Jameson confirm that the problem is being dealt with, and that residents of the Greatest City in the World need not worry for their safety or the safety of their loved ones. Benjamin Grimm, better known as ‘The Thing,’ has this to say: ‘It ain’t nothin’ we ain’t seen before, awright? Just more goo from space, and y’know what ol’ Ben Grimm says to some no-good space-goo? Yeah, that’s right, it’s clobberin’ ti–”
Holding yourself up in a one-handed push-up, your other hand reaches out to grab the remote control, quickly switching the TV off. There’s always something going on in New York, whether it’s aliens, a conflict between superhero factions, some political bullshit with the Avengers, a one-night stand with She-Hulk left a building in ruins, or some drama with one of a million different spider-people, there’s always something. If the Fantastic Four have things figured out, leave ‘em to it, you’ve got reps to finish.
Switching to the other hand, you can feel the burn in your abs and shoulders deepen as you get in another few push-ups, ‘til you get up to twelve… then collapse to the floor, breathing hard. Three sets of planks, two sets of lunges, two sets of one-handed push-ups for each hand, two more of crunches… not bad for a morning workout. Squats… squats can wait. Tomorrow will be just fine for legs. Rolling over onto your back, you grab your water bottle from off of the bed next to you, squeezing a long stream of it into your mouth, then finally sit up, glancing at the digital clock by your nightstand. 6:51, plenty of time for you to take a quick shower before heading to class.
You strip out of your workout clothes and duck into the shower, letting ice-cold water blast the sweat off of your well-muscled body, letting it invigorate you, refresh you, numb the ache of your hard work. You’ve always been a tall girl, but taking on a thorough exercise regimen has left you with an impressive physique as well, particularly for the age of nineteen. Your disdain for the discipline required to upkeep that physique is only rivalled by the joy you feel whenever you see some freshman get visibly intimidated by you, or a cute girl asks you to pick her up – in the end, it’s worth it, you think.
You keep the shower short, though, ending it as soon as your hair is clean and you start to feel cold, aggressively toweling yourself off and fetching some clothes from the shower. Nothing fancy for a normal schoolday – black cargo pants, a light purple muscle-shirt, combat boots, and a light gray hoodie that obscures (and expands) most of your imposing build.
The door to your room, you discover, is slightly ajar. This would be cause for some concern, and for a moment, it is, until you discover the culprit: Xavier, your pet cat, named by your older sister before she left for private school. Xavier’s short-haired and all-white, blind in one eye, but absolutely loves you. “How the fuck do you keep opening the door, big guy? I really figured you needed thumbs for that, and yet… here you are.” You reach down, scritching the slightly-fat feline under the chin, which he accepts with a ready purr. Lifting him up, you drape him around your shoulders like a fur coat, then finally head downstairs – and are immediately assaulted by the smell of bacon, toast, and eggs.
Lured by the scent like a siren’s song, you click your bedroom door shut and practically float down the stairs to the living room. The television on the entertainment center is on, showing a man with a black flat-top and a dangerously narrow mustache continue to ramble about aliens, the Fantastic Four, and how the web-slinging ‘menace’ Spider-Man would never be seen doing something so outwardly heroic. It’s not the first time you’ve seen one of Jameson’s rants, and you’re able to quickly tune it out. You drop Xavier gently to the sage-green carpet, and he scampers off towards the kitchen. “Hey, mom, did you make enough for me–?” you begin to say, but your words are intercepted before they have time to get too far out of your mouth.
“Of course I made enough, baby,” your mother calls out to you as she scrambles around the kitchen, taking different items out of various pans and starting to plate up, “I made enough for two of you; you’re in a bulking phase, right?” She’s a treasure, your mom – when your sister moved out, Empty Nest started to set in quick. She insisted on you staying home when you started going to college, rather than living on campus, and the two of you now live alone together. Upside is that she’s more attentive and affectionate than ever before, though her own need for attention has made her a bit clingy, even a little nosy.
“Hey, you remembered,” you smirk, sitting down at the dining room table while your mom feeds a greedy Xavier a strip of bacon, something he… probably doesn’t strictly need. “You don’t have to do all this, y’know. I know you’re busy with the show, and all.”
“Pfft, don’t be silly, Erin,” she says, setting a plate in front of you, then a (decidedly less heavily-laden) plate at the table’s opposite end, pouring two glasses of orange juice before sitting down. “I don’t shoot for hours, yet – how long do you think they keep me in the makeup chair? I’m not that old.” She has a point. Your mom has aged with incredible grace, and it seems that moving into her early 40’s has only finely-seasoned her good looks. Warm, dark eyes, a bright smile, and a wavy, layered bob of espresso-colored hair leaves no doubt as to why she’s been the star of The Josephine Lydon Show for the past decade. Her body’s no less impressive, slim but curvaceous in the right areas – nowhere near your impressive height and figure, but it’s obvious that her genetics did you a huge favor.
“Heh, yeah, alright,” you chuckle, forking some bacon and eggs onto a slice of toast and folding it in half, turning it into a little taco before taking a big bite with an audible owmph. “Thanks, anyway.”
“I’ve gotta keep my big strong girl big and strong, don’t I?” your mom chuckles back at you, picking at her own breakfast much more delicately. Clearly, you failed to inherit her good manners. “And… well, I see you so much less, now. Have to make the best of the time we have.”
“Yeah,” you smile slightly, “speaking of, I gotta get to class right after this, but I’ll see you later on if aliens don’t take over the city, alright?”
“You heard the man with the troublesome mustache, the Fantastic Four’s on it. If they can handle that Silver Skateboarder I’m sure they can deal with goo-blobs.”
“Silver Surfer, I’m pretty sure,” you correct her, not being completely sure. Cramming the rest of the toast-taco into your mouth, you fold up another one, guzzle down the glass of juice, and stand up. “Hate to dine and dash, mom, but I gotta get outta here. Seeya!”
“Ugh, gone so fast,” she sighs, but then waves you off. “Have fun!”
“You know it,” you say, only half-sarcastically, as you head out the door, hopping astride your big, heavy, dark purple bicycle – offering a session of mandatory cardio after your work out, and providing one of the reasons you find leg day so odious. Pulling your hood down and strapping your bike helmet on, you start speeding off in the direction of campus. It’s some twenty minutes away by bike, even further necessitating your early schedule.
After over a year, it finally feels like you’re starting to find your way at college. While each day’s different, you have a better and better idea of what to expect – probably a lot of….
1. Hard study. A powerful body is useless without a powerful mind.
2. Slacking. Everything you’re learning is either useless, or too easy. You don’t pay much attention.
3. Anti-authority. You’ll coast through until you get a degree, but only if it means making the professors’ lives a nightmare.
4. Being social. It’s good to be liked, even if you aren’t exactly popular.
5. Being athletic. You got in on a sports scholarship – college is just your path to the big leagues.
6. Brooding. Just because you have a rich, famous mom doesn’t mean you can’t be very sad, introspective goth.
7. Hobbies. College has made you an enormous nerd, and despite your bulky physique, you’ve found yourself a member of various clubs and groups. Your half-orc sorcerer just hit level seven last week!