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its-maemain · 2 years

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So this morning as I struggled to want to get up an AU came to me. I've been struggling on how to word some of this so bare with me.

This got longer than I thought it would but here:

Lois Lane and Clark Kent find out they're having a child later on they find out it's a girl, they're overjoyed and shit. But their relationship is on the down low, and everyone in Metropolis is convinced that Lois and Superman not only have a thing for each other but are together(which they aren't wrong). So when Lex Luthor finds out Lois is pregnant he comes up with a plan(cause his blad ass thinks he's so smart). And he does succeed.

Clark has to go off planet for [intergalactic problem here] and so he's gone for a few months during Lois’s pregnancy. So while Superman is away Lex is like ‘yes my plan will go so much easier now’ and so Lois gives birth, after she(the baby) is put in the baby ward thing, Lex steals their daughter. He gives her this serum that (in theory) blocks her powers till something triggers them. It does work but he doesn't know what will trigger it or how well it works.

He decides to put her as far away from them as possible on Earth tho. So she's in France getting adopted by the lovely couple who own a bakery and want a child. They can't due to biological complications, and Lex can watch them easily ( he knows French ig for this ). And they get to name her cause she doesn't have name.

So enter Marinette Dupain-Cheng the adoptive daughter Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng. There are some things they just can't explain about their daughter, they love her very much. Shenanigans my beloved, shall ensue.

But she's so small and doesn't have a lot of muscle how is she carrying this bag of flower at the age of 10? OH NO BOILING WATER GOT ON HER SHES GONNA GET BURN MAR- oh, she's okay...? MARINETTE DONT STARE AT THE SUN! They go to the doctor to check her eyesight, she has perfect vision. Marinette the fastest kid in her class, faster than Kim and Alix, they're playing hide and seek? Oh Mari is up a tree!

Back with Clark and Lois, Superman threatens Lex or talks to Bruce or something idk. Jon is made or born 2 years later(idk his story sometimes he's a clone sometimes he's not???!) when Mari is 2, then two more years later Con is born(I know for a fact he is born) so Mari is like 4. Bruce is doing the blood thing, but Lex has that shit under strict supervenience. And while raising the boys they learn what they should look for.

Tom and Sabine conclude that Mari is a Meta, talk to her about this when she is like 12, than when she is almost 14 she searches this stuff up and she's like “okay, no powers” well that gets thrown in her face when she was left with being Ladybug. Lex can't watch her anymore cause Paris closed itself off!

How being Ladybug affects Marinette:

She is still really strong even with that serum not letting her be at full strength so now that she has the Miraculous it enhances her already enhanced strength so she has to pull her punches, and this is one of the main reasons why she uses her yo-yo and her brain in battles rather than brute force, cause she could kill the akuma. At least she thinks so, who knows, depends on the writer!

Post [What-ever-the-fuck version of Gabriel we're dealing with]:

There are two ways this can go! 1) Mari during her time as Ladybug and Guardian activated the trigger so she could use all her half-Kryptonian-ness or 2) somehow it wasn't triggered yet but it was at some point while being around JL. Probably from being around Superman and her body went “FATHERRRRR”

And why Clark hasn't figured out this is his daughter after meeting her? Magic suit y'all! Prevents him from using x-ray vision on her, so he doesn't see her hybrid organs. One thing is for certain Bruce wants to adopt her! He can't of course cause she has already been adopted, so instead, he offers her a place to stay in Gotham, all paid, and any school of her choosing in Gotham. She says she’ll think about it, and when she researched she was surprised, and decided why not! She can fight villains, build her career, see what she can do with her new activated power, *cough* get all that pent-up rage out *COUGH*!

One big problem tho, the Meta and Magic users ban, so she talks to him again, he's like I'm willing to adjust my ban, then he does a double take cause “meta?” cause guess what Brucie, you wanna take in a meta-magic user! So he adjusts his rules.

Time passes, a long time depends, but Clark and Lois go to this gala being reporters and friends with Bruce. This gala is also Mari’s first. She's been doing great, other than almost burning her room in the middle of the night a few weeks ago. But it's fiiiiine, they're all learning, and Damian has his suspensions.

Clark was area of Bruce having another kid in his wings, and he does his x-ray things like he does all the batfam, and that's when he sees it! She wasn't human, she was part human. So he takes her Bruce, and is like “you can't have this child” “why tf can't I!” “this is our missing daughter!!”

So after the gala they all sit down and talk this out, they call Jon and Kon to get their asses here to see their sister! They talk to Tom and Sabine and they’re willing to share custody especially cause of how this happened! Anyway big family in the end.

This has probably been done somewhere but I needed to get this written out. I really want to write this, but if anyone does tag me please! PLEASE!

Bonus points for any salt or angst. Just sayin

Edit: it really shows how I didn't know about Kon and it pains me everytime I get a notification for this. Excuse my dumbassery.

Jon is born two years after Mari, Kon is made whenever the fuck he’s made, so Kon is like twoish year's older than Mari growth wise?? Cause Damian and Tim are like five/six years apart? (supposed to be anyway but who gives a shit, apparently not the DC writers, cause like aren't they supposed to be idk 7-9 years apart?? I don't care really it gives better annoying the shit out each other I'm specific ways while in the same household prevogligous)

They call Kon cause, “you're family regardless and we found our daughter we want you to meet her, get yo ass over here”

#maribat #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #bio dad clark kent #biodad au #lex luthor is a dick!#batfam #superfam #maribat prompt #mlb salt #maribat salt #meta marinette #kryptonian marinette

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distort-opia · 2 years

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like. as much as Bruce Wayne is recognized as one of the FEW genuinely good men with power in Gotham City, many (even in good society) believes it to be too good to be true: the man hides something. The rumors are varied in that regard: misconduct, drug abuse, money laundering, trafficking... Some simply thinks Wayne is closeted or that he has a sex addiction.

There are also a LOT of rumours regarding his wards and children. Dick Grayson and Wayne cordially hate each other, it is whispered. The young man is rumored to have never forgiven the man for tossing him aside to adopt another boy. It is unclear whether Grayson left or if he was chased out by Wayne, but some even claim the billionaire wanted to push him out of his will. Rumor has it however that Grayson is Pennyworth's favorite, and since the butler has great hold over his master, it is thanks to his persuasion that he is still on Wayne's last will and inheritance. Jason Todd has been written up as Wayne's favourite, which, some says, has led him to indulge his son's supposed drug addiction. His sudden death away from the public eye has sparked a lot of speculations. The general theory is that Todd died of an overdose or some other overindulgence, but some doesn't hesitate to accuse either Wayne or Grayson for his death. There are some people on the internet who allegedly have seen him alive so there are some rumours that Wayne faked his favourite son's death to escape a conviction or perhaps retribution from organized crime. Then there is Timothy Drake, who many see as the most "capable" of the children. Malicious rumours depict him as a money-hungry teenager who used his father's death to get in Wayne's good graces. Some whisper he has made sure Grayson and Wayne stay at odds to ensure he'll get his share of the inheritance, though it is also said he's hated of Pennyworth which may be why the man supports Grayson. And then there is Damian, who supposedly is Wayne's biological son, though his mother's identity is unknown. It is rumored Wayne got the daughter of a powerful mob boss pregnant and was forced to take the boy in after his mother's death.

Nah, creativity just works like that, you get inspired in the worst practical moments. Gotham is such an interesting city! Hope my tag wasn't too distracting though, wishing you the best with studying and exams <3

And damn, I love these ideas. I've seen people headcanon Gotham's perception of Bruce Wayne a lot as either 'That guy?? Batman?? He got lost within his own building 3 times last week and they had to send the fire department in because he got stuck in a bathroom' + his kids tweeting about how much of a himbo he is. Or, inspired by the new Batman movie, as 'He's our pathetic little prince. Our poor little meow meow. Look at him he started crying because the barista got his order wrong. Someone get him to sleep'.

But this is darker and more realistic, perhaps. Also, the idea that there are people going 'Hm. There is something darker behind this good person, ditzy exterior' and thinking it's shady drug-involved mafia shit when the man is actually putting on a Bat suit at night to pummel criminals into the dirt... is also kinda funny.

#tbh go nuts and play with the city who can stop you #asks #batman #batman meta #bruce wayne #bruce wayne meta

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wesavegotham · 3 years

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So don’t hate me but I’m kinda liking damian’s animated versions better than his comic one I really like his comic one but after all the shit happening where he has been nerfed nonstop getting beat by Thomas Wayne Batman, the teen titans red hood (although Jason attacked from behind like a bitch) and now flatline beating him. Not to mention Bruce not being a father and Damian now Being blamed for everything when they all have no room to talk. God I was satisfied when his old team died in future.

This is going to be a really long post, my apologies in advance.

I absolutely get where you’re coming from. I personally still like comic Damian more because I feel like there is more nuance and layers to him compared to the animated universe Damian, but that is simply the fault of the limited time they could spent on him in the movies.

Movie!Damian certainly wins more fights than comic!Damian and was never regressed in any way that is comparable to the shitshow that was Teen Titans (2016).

You’re adressing a problem I have with comic!Damian too right now, a problem that I’ve already talked about with some people here on tumblr in private. Which is that for all the talk about what Damian can do the comics have rarely shown all those skills Damian should have being used in the actual story in recent years and that is frustrating. I find Damian’s arrogance interesting as long as I feel like he can at least back it up in some way, but in recent time he comes off as just an idiot because he has done almost nothing but fail and lose and the writers still have him act like he’s the greatest. But it doesn’t feel like he can back up his confidence anymore. At all.

If I had to name a skill that differentiates Damian from the other Robins right now then I could only list his skill to hide from Batman and that is a skill he only has for plot convenience. We don’t see him do anything to cover his tracks, we are only told that he somehow did it. And I’m pretty sure that the second this skill stops being convenient for the story it will vanish once again. It will probably end like it did with Jon, where Damian somehow hid so well that Jon said they would never find him in Teen Titans, when they wanted an excuse for Jon to not get involved with his friend’s fall into darkness, but now that DC wanted them to interact again all of that is forgotten and Jon has no problems finding Damian.

Damian is not the most social Robin, nor the most intelligent one and considering how he seemed to lose against everything and everyone in recent years I can’t say with a straight face that he’s the best at fighting or the most skilled. And that IS a problem. Damian will never be known for his social skills or his detective skills, those niches are already taken by Dick and Tim, but in theory he should be a great fighter or a highly skilled person. Damian has sacrificed his entire life for training, both in the league of assassins and during his time with the batfamily. But if Damian sucks at fighting (as in: he loses a lot more than he wins) and his skills play no significant role in advancing the plot, then what is the point of his character? Great, he’s good at drawing and likes manga now, but how will that help with a fighting tournament? Or with solving the mystery behind the league of lazarus? A protagonist is usually supposed to be able to change the situation he is in, that is why he’s the protagonist and not someone else. So what makes Damian so unique that only he can solve the situation he finds himself in during Robin and not someone like Conner Hawke? Or what makes him unique in the batfamily? I hope Robin adresses that soon.

Of course now one could say “He still has an unique position as Bruce’s biological child”, but that also was completely irrelevant in recent years. For all the moments since the start of Rebirth that had batfam-fans complaining that Damian was favored by DC because of his status as the only biological child of Bruce, there were actually very few interactions between the two. Stuff like Bruce talking about Damian or saying that he loves him was primarily found in scenes in which Damian was not present. Or it came way too late, like in Teen Titans (and Bruce refusing to hit Damian in the face because he is his child sets such a low bar, I refuse to acknowledge that as a sign of love)

If you look at how Bruce actually treats Damian or describes him then there is little love there. He ignored his 13th birthday, did nothing when Damian left him after the events of Justice League: No Justice, it had no impact on the Batman books at all, Bruce only called Damian for missions like two times, once in City of Bane (which was just so shitty, as I already explained in a previous post) and a second time in Detective Comics #1017 (He sent Damian to find a missing kid in a snow storm, while he dealt with something else), refused to comfort him at Alfred’s wake and when Bruce reflects on what happened in Teen Titans he blames most of it on Damian’s personality, both in Detective Comics #1030 and in Robin #1, and both times there is nobody questioning Bruce’s asessment. He really doesn’t have anything nice to say about Damian and apparently we are not supposed to disagree with him. So in summary: Damian seems to have no skills that make him indispensable for the batfamily, Bruce seems to have a very low opinion of Damian’s character and now that they have decided to give us Bruce searching for Damian the only reason for that seems to be that Bruce suddenly feels responsible for his child, even though that should have already been the case when Damian seperated from him in 2018 or at least directly after the second Teen Titans annual.

Even the kinda nice things Bruce says about Damian in Robin #1 can be called into question if you think about them. He says he has no doubt that Damian can take care of himself...and then we see Damian getting his heart ripped out at the end of the very same issue. Of course we know that Damian’s story doesn’t end there, so I won’t judge this too harshly yet, but to me this didn’t come off as Damian being able to take care of himself.

And I get letting Damian lose at the start of the tournament to establish Flatline as a threat and to make it clear that this tournament is not a game. I also get that Damian’s fight against King Snake was supposed to make sure that we still think of Damian as competent even though he loses later on. But at least for me, winning against King Snake was not cool or badass enough to make up for the fact that Damian was easily killed, in front of everyone, by a literal nobody like Flatline. King Snake is an old, blind guy, that didn’t show up in any DC comic I read since I started in 2018 and that was apparently beaten by Tim in his solo comic when he was 14 back in the 90s. Sorry, but that just isn’t impressive enough for me, especially since I’ve seen Damian lose so much in recent years. It doesn’t establish Flatline as a badass, it just makes me think that Damian is not that great of a fighter and shouldn’t be in this tournament.

I have some more thoughts on the tournament that make me wish that the arc will start being less about winning the tournament itself and more about something like taking down the league of lazarus soon (mainly the fact that a fight about being the best fighter is useless if the big guns are not taking part, the fact that you can only win by killing your oponent, which should be a problem for Damian and how nothing we know about the rewards for winning, becoming part of the league of lazarus und apparently immortality, is desirable for Damian), but this answer is already too long.

I’m going to be honest an admit that I did not like the ending of Robin #1 at all and that I hope that Williamson will show Damian being competent really soon because I’m not here for another pointless arc about Damian learning humility. I want to see Damian win for once, you know, like other protagonist usually do at the end of an arc and if Damian can’t even win or tell us what’s going on with him from his point of view in a book about him then I’m probably going to feel very disappointed by this book.

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spidercakes · 4 years

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Playmate

I was gunna do this as a oneshot but I decided to go multipart instead (3 or 4 parts). So, this is an ABO AU in which Peter and Tony are both omegas and Tony is teaching Peter the art of seduction, essentially. Basically the is the result of me discovering playmating (omegas teaching other omegas how to please their partners by using each other) and going huh, now there’s an idea.

Warnings: ABO, age difference (Peter is 17, Tony is in his late twenties).

Peter sits in front of the mirror nervously moving his hair around and he doesn’t even know why. Its not like this matters, this is a class that he needs to take before he’s eligible for alphas and he’s there to learn, not impress. But he still has an itching feeling to look good, pretty even if its not for an alpha. He thinks the pink around the mirror is supposed to be disarming but its so not and he takes a deep breath because if he doesn’t leave now he’ll be late and he doesn’t think that’s a good start so he picks himself up and turns around before he can fuss more about his hair.

He makes his way down the hallway and pauses at the door at the end of it. All he has to do is walk in but he’s so nervous, he’s never done any of this before and he doesn’t like doing things wrong. He bites his lip, half tempted to run but the door opens and Peter lets out a surprised squeak. Its not just that the door opened its also that the guy behind it is really, really attractive. He knows that omegas aren’t supposed to find each other attractive, they don’t really go together biologically, but he’s never really had a problem finding anyone attractive.

The guy behind the door, his mentor he supposes, smiles at him. “Debating on running away?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Or throwing up,” Peter says, then winces. Wow, his first words in the arts of seduction were ‘or throwing up.’ He’s sure an alpha will find that super sexy.

“Hey, relax, kid. Come in, and don’t be nervous. And yeah I know, you’ve never done any of this before, you don’t want to mess up, what if you never get good at any of this- I’ve heard it all and seen it all. You’ll do fine,” he says. “I’m Tony, by the way. You must be Peter.”

He nods, stepping into the room and looking around. Its nicer than he thought it’d be, less clinical. He likes the lights behind the curtains backing the bed, it makes the room look softer somehow. “I don’t know about that,” Peter says, arms around his middle.

Tony smiles softly, “the good news is that no one really does well in any kind of sexual relationship at first no matter how experienced they are. You need time to figure your partner out, everyone’s tastes are different.”

“Then like... what’s the point of this class?” he asks, squinting.

Tony laughs, “there are things that are relatively true for most people, that’s what I’m supposed to teach. But I’ll teach you other things too, like how to tell when your partner likes something they maybe didn’t mention, how to approach the subject delicately. Alphas are precious little flowers, you don’t want them to feel threatened if you’ve noticed they enjoy something that maybe they think makes them less of an alpha. Seriously, they do not react well to that and you don’t want to deal with a month and a half of whining until they’ve settled down again,” he says.

“That seems... complicated,” Peter says.

“Nah, its easy once your figure it out and lucky you you have someone to teach you. Now, what experience do you have?” Tony asks as he shuts the door and walks over to the bed, perching on it as he tucks his legs under himself.

Peter shrugs, “um, I’ve kissed a couple people,” he says, trying his best to control the blush on his cheeks but he doesn’t think he does well.

“Don’t bother to hide it, alphas go nuts for a good blush. Let it work for you,” Tony tells him, smiling a little when he looks surprised. “This is my job, Peter, I know how to read people really well. So relax, you’re gunna do fine.”

He does let himself relax a little, looking around again. This is... intimidating still but it helps, Tony being so open. “So what are we learning today?” he asks, figuring maybe he should get to like... the curriculum or whatever it is he’s supposed to call this.

“Scenting,” Tony tells him and Peter frowns. “That’s it for today. Probably for the whole week, depending on how you feel,” he adds.

“How can that take up a whole week?” he asks. Seems easy, he’s seen movies he knows how it works. And, not that he’d ever admit this to anyone except maybe Ned and probably not even then, but he’s seen porn too.

Tony looks amused, “Peter, there’s more to scenting than shoving your face in an alpha’s neck. Not that they mind that either, and that’s probably what you’re going to get, but you need to be better than that. So yes, you get a week of scenting. Plus its an easy icebreaker to the rest of the uh... curriculum.”

He’s used to nervous young omegas and they’re preferable to his other option, hence being here, but poor Peter is more of a nervous wreck than the usual. He can hazard a few guesses as to why but that’s less important than getting him past that. His life is a whole lot easier if Peter isn’t nervous, and he’ll feel more comfortable learning what Tony is trying to teach if he’s comfortable.

“So what is it that kids are watching these days?” he asks, sitting back against the pillows on the bed.

Peter is sitting across from him, legs tucked under himself and that’s an improvement but he needs Peter more relaxed than that. “You’re not even that much older than me,” Peter says like ten years isn’t basically fifty given their ages.

“Come on, give me something here. I know you guys sneak out to see movies you’re not supposed to, we all do it. Well, I can come and go as I please now but I did, back when I was in school,” he says.

Its a weird thing to break the ice but Peter’s eyes light up and he leans forward with interest, “you guys did that too?” he asks, surprised.

He snorts, “all the time. A friend of mine and I decided to go to a midnight screening of The Exorcist and I had nightmares for weeks,” he says, shaking his head.

“I had nightmares about Alien!” Peter says excitedly. “I mean, it was a good movie but I was not prepared.”

Tony knows the feeling though he never grew out of his dislike for horror. He supposes Peter at least got fond of sci fi. “Yeah, there’s always that one movie that leaves someone scarred for life. I think technically it was supposed to be Paranormal Activity for my age group but being here hinders things so nope, the damn Exorcist.”

“I think our is It. Saw the first half of the first part and decided I didn’t like clowns,” Peter says.

Tony snickers and smacks his knee, “that’s hilarious. My ex loved Stephen King, tried pretty hard to convince me to go watch It with him too but sadly for him I’m stubborn and absolutely refused.”

Peter frowns a little, probably wondering if he accidentally walked into a landmine and he hasn’t. His relationship history is pretty much a pile of garbage but he’s long ago accepted that. “Oh, um...” Peter winces, looking away and confirming Tony’s theory.

“Relax, its a non issue. Bruce was great but things weren’t really meant to be. And he’s not dead, stop looking at me like that, poor bastard just had one hell of a mental breakdown.” Peter gives him a sympathetic look and yeah, Tony figures he’s earned that.

“So I guess that’s how you ended up here?”

He nods, “something like that. Though I’ve been married three times, two out of three of them fucking sucked. Ty was, to put it politely, an abusive piece of shit and Steve was fine at first but we had... different ideas of who the other was and that led to a messy divorce. Then Bruce.” That last one would have worked out too, he’d never been intimidated by Tony’s intelligence and Bruce wasn’t exactly lacking in intelligence himself. He’d been soft and caring, comfortable. It wasn’t the sparks and passion he’d wanted in his youth but he quickly learned that was a stupid thing to want in a long term relationship.

“Wow that’s...”

“A lot?” Tony asks, eyebrow raised. Peter nods and Tony shrugs, “its a weird constant in my life, Bruce was a nice reprieve from that. Good news is that he’s not cracked up anymore so good for him.”

“Why not go back to him? You seem like you care about him still,” Peter says.

He shakes his head, “needs to be mentally competent to have an omega and he’s cleared to take care of himself, not me.” Like alphas or betas take care of omegas anyway and Peter seems to notice the weird discrepancy too because he looks confused.

“Literally all we do here is to take care of alphas, why would he need to be competent enough to take care of you when you’re the one taking care of him?”

Yeah, would be a good question if Bruce wasn’t a beta. “That’s a fun little beta only rule, alphas are assumed mentally competent at all times regardless of whether or not they are. Society’s way of doing everything it can to force omegas and alphas together, I guess.”

Peter looks surprised by that too, Bruce being a beta. “What’s that like? I mean, can’t be the same as it was with an alpha,” he says.

Most his age think so and they don’t have enough contact with people of other orientations to know better. Tony shakes his head though, “they aren’t the same, no, but I’d prefer betas over alphas. They listen better, and they’re less temperamental. Surprisingly omegas are the best- we know how to deal with emotions and know how to read body language, makes things a fuck of a lot easier when you’re dealing with someone who feels comfortable with emotions that aren’t angry or sexually aggressive like alphas. I will give alphas credit where its due though, knots are pretty great. You can get a dildo for that though and its a hell of a lot less hassle.”

He’d wonder if he was too blunt, maybe, if Peter didn’t look so interested. “Did you do that with Bruce? Not to be like prying or-”

He cuts Peter off because that’s good, he needs to be comfortable with sexual topics here all things considered. “No, its fine. Its a good way to learn, asking me questions. I didn’t, though. Knots are great, but if they’re the only thing that’s good about an interaction then they’re really not worth the time- Ty. Not to call anyone out specifically,” he says.

It works because Peter laughs. “But like... nothing with Bruce?” he asks and they both know what he means.

He shakes his head, “nope. Bruce was an attentive lover, he paid attention to what I liked, asked when he was unsure. That’s really all you need.”

“Okay but like, what about scenting? That can’t be the same,” Peter says. “Or like, its gotta be better with alphas.”

“Nope, alpha’s best kept secret is that its pretty much the same with everyone. Well, kind of. If alphas know how to do it right its great, but if they don’t eh. Betas are open to learning without you having to couch it in the nicest terms you can possibly come up with and then making it seem like you’re not directing them on how to scent better- we’ll get to it. And omegas learn how to do it right and to pay attention to what their partners like so they kind of end up the best at it in the end, but that’s because they get taught. Betas would be the beset otherwise.”

Bruce was always hesitant, unsure if he could measure up to Tony’s past lovers because of the beta thing but it really wasn’t an issue. He wasn’t much good at scenting at first, betas apparently don’t much do it with each other for whatever reason, but Tony directed him on how to do it better and he ended up the best at it out of everyone he’s been with. Its not a long list really, but it is longer than most omegas. And it had been somewhat intimidating to Bruce though he was always thoughtful about it, never made it seem like Tony’s fault he felt that way and that really was the best thing about Bruce.

Peter looks skeptical but they all do at first. “No way, that’s so not what we get taught!” he says, almost offended about it.

“Want a demonstration?” he asks, using the natural opening to get to their lesson of the week.

Peter isn’t stupid, he knows he’s been led here specifically though he did most of the leading himself. “Okay,” he says, nose in the air a little.

He nods, shifting away from the pillows he was leaning against, “come over here and sit,” Tony tells him. Peter considers it for a half a second before he crawls over and perches in Tony’s previous spot. “Good news, technically speaking that’s a form of scenting, sitting in areas an alpha does often. Rubs your scent off in their spaces and they actually are superior in that area, smell. Nosey little bastards can smell just about everything and they like that kind of thing, you smelling like them. Wear their sweaters or clothing too, I used to do it when I slept because that was the easiest. Some people don’t get a job like I did though so they find it easier to throw something on during the day while they do whatever around the house.”

Peter wrinkles his nose, “that so doesn’t count as scenting!” he says, near scandalized.

Tony laughs, “trust me, to an alpha it is. You won’t notice anything, Bruce never seemed to notice and mostly got annoyed that I stole all his sleep pants, but an alpha will notice and they will react positively to it. Sometimes its a good way to stave off a fight too, smelling more like them than not. Its a good tip, keep it in mind,” Tony tells him.

He at least gets a nod out of Peter while he curls his legs under himself. “Okay, smell like an alpha and they like it, got it,” he says. “Now lets get to the real stuff because I’m pretty sure you’re lying but I can’t figure out why.”

This is his favorite part of these things, debunking pretty much everything they’ve all been taught thus far. He thinks they’re better for it, not thinking they need to rely on alphas for any kind of sexual pleasure or really anything at all. “Okay, lie back,” he tells Peter, “legs out and spread a little, I’m going to sit between them, okay?”

Peter nods and stretches himself out, legs spread a little. “Good. Now you’re not going to want to go straight in, tease them a little alright. Like this,” Tony tells him, crawling in close and settling a hand on their thigh, “doesn’t work for everyone, but its usually a good place to start. Its intimate and sexy, see,” he says, sliding a hand up Peter’s thigh. He doesn’t want to react, Tony can see it, but he does. Being so young helps, especially when he’s probably never been touched like this before. Some will experiment with others, most don’t. They get taught not to out of some stupid assumption of purity or whatever. Not that it usually matters by the time they make it here- they’re supposed to learn how to seduce alphas and its hard to know how to fuck someone without you know, actually fucking someone.

“Let yourself feel it, Peter. You need to know how this feels so you can gauge how your partner is reacting, okay?” He nods and Tony smiles, “good. Now scenting isn’t too difficult, but there’s an art of seduction to it that makes it better. Like this,” Tony tells him as he leans in close, hand on Peter’s hip. HIs eyes are wide as Tony settles his other hand beside Peter. “Closeness is beneficial to you, the intimacy of it. Let yourself lean in close, maybe brush your nose against theirs like this,” Tony tells him as he presses in closer and brushes his nose along Peter’s. “its soft, sweet. Keeps up with the typical image of omegas, plus it can be cute and playful. Depends on the mood of the situation.”

Peter smiles and reaches out, settling a hand on Tony’s hip for a moment before he seems to think better of it and pulls back. Tony grabs his wrist, “no, that’s good. Let yourself explore, figure out how to touch someone. I’ll guide you later, but for now just let yourself go. We’ll fine tune things when we get there.” Peter nods, hesitantly settling his hand back on Tony’s hip and he bites his lip. “Keep that, that’s cute. Alphas love a shy omega, not sure what about it gets them going but they pretty much all love it.” He hasn’t met one yet that doesn’t though he’s sure they exist, however rare they may be.

“Okay,” Peter says, voice a little shaky.

“Good. Now do this,” Tony murmurs as he leans into Peter’s space, face right by his jaw. “Don’t go for it right away, tease them a little. Let your breath ghost over their jaw, make them want it, okay?” Peter nods, fingers curling into his shirt and Tony smiles. Nice to know he has an effect. “You feel it?” he asks even though they both know the answer. Peter lets out a soft ‘mhm.’ “Good, because this is what you want to make them feel, okay? Then you go in nice and soft, like this,” he murmurs, nosing lightly at Peter’s neck. He lets out a small, strangled noise, second hand moving to Tony’s hip.

“Keep it soft for a moment, shy. They like that, like your hesitant at first. Let yourself explore a little. You’ll feel if they get listless, and sometimes they straight up tell you they want more. Listen to their body language, like you right now with your hands on my hips, fingers flexing. You want more,” Tony says.

“Yeah, this is nice,” Peter tells him and Tony smiles.

“Yeah it is,” he murmurs. “Now, when they want more, or when you think you’ve teased them enough- some of them prefer more of it than others, scent them proper. Like this,” he tells Peter, pressing his face into his neck and mouthing at it softly, nosing at it as Peter naturally tilts his head back and to the side. “Good presentation,” Tony murmurs, “they like that too.” Peter isn’t paying attention by now, his hands are tight on his shirt and his legs have drawn up close to Tony’s hips. He lets out a small mewl as Tony kisses his way down Peter’s neck, letting him feel it.

“How’s that?” he murmurs into Peter’s ear as he pulls away.

“Oh,” Peter murmurs. “I... does it feel like that for you?” he asks. Tony laughs a little but nods.

“You wanna try?” he asks. Peter bites his lip and looks away and Tony settles a hand on one of Peter’s at his hip. “You won’t be as good as me on your first try, I’ve had a lot of practice because I’ve been through this training, and I’ve been married several times, plus I started teaching this stuff. Comparing yourself to me is unfair. Its my job to make sure you end up as good as me so don’t worry about it if you’re not perfect right away. We can work on that. Come here,” he says, shifting out of Peter’s space and sitting beside him. “Try it.”

Peter looks at him nervously, giving him a quick once over. “Um. Okay,” he says. Terrible approach but he’s not going to tell Peter that at the moment, they can work on that later. For now he should get the basics in so Tony opens his arms for Peter to crawl in. He does, straddling his lap, hands on his chest. “That’s cute, sitting like that. Look less like you have no idea what you’re doing when you do it though, more shy, coy maybe. There you go, that looks nicer. Now lean into me, like that yeah,” he says as Peter leans forward tentatively, forehead almost touching his. “That’s good, yeah. forehead touches are cute assuming no one is sweaty.”

He gets a soft giggle out of Peter. “Okay,” he murmurs softly and he leans in, planting a small kiss on Tony’s mouth.

Tony wraps his arms around Peter, one hand settling on his waist and he runs the other up through his hair, guiding his head a little. “Easy way to teach alphas where to go without bruising their egos. They like it when you take a little control, but not too much. Make it seem like you’re enjoying yourself while you direct them, then they don’t suspect anything,” Tony says as he guides Peter’s head the right way. He noses at Tony’s jaw and its pleasant, misguided a little but still good. “That’s it, have a little more confidence. Nice and slow,” Tony murmurs as Peter’s breath softly hits his neck.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“Its a good start,” Tony murmurs, you’ve got a lot of natural talent we can work into something better. Arch your back a little, yeah, like that. Alphas like that too, but when you’re doing this its for them only. Its nice to scent someone, but its being scented that feels nice. But let them think you get something out of it too,” Tony murmurs. “Now go for it for me, show me how you scent,” he tells Peter, petting his hand through Peter’s hair.

He lets out a soft noise of pleasure as he leans in, nosing gently at Tony’s neck and its because he’s nervous, unsure, but it works. Tony feels the small jolts of pleasure and he makes a small noise, tilting his head a bit. Part of it is for show, part of it is real but a slightly exaggerated response is a better teaching tool. Peter takes his cue and kisses him softly, teeth grazing at his neck and Tony’s fist closes tight in his hair as his back arches involuntarily. “Oh, um I was going toh-” he says, words cutting off as Peter’s teeth graze his neck again.

“Oh wow, I can um... I can smell that you liked that,” he says as Tony pants underneath him.

“Yeah, I um... most omegas do, actually. I was going to get to that tomorrow but you seemed to have found a way to jump ahead. Some areas are more sensitive than others and you happened to hit my sensitive spot. Also good use of your nose, that’ll be a helpful guide. Alphas smell different but you’ll know what arousal smells li-ah, Peter!” he says, attempting an admonishing tone but he does’t quite make it past his reaction to Peter’s teeth at his neck again.

“You talk too much,” Peter says, giggling as he leans back up. “And I like the way you react.”

He snorts, “yeah, you and most everyone else I’ve been with. So you get it now, scenting? How it feels to be on the other end of it, how to do it? Well, the basics on how to do it. We’ll fine tune for the rest of the week until you’re an expert,” he says.

Peter sits back in his lap and nods, “yeah, I get it. Honestly, I thought you were lying about it feeling nice when omegas do it too, but I guess its good that it feels nice regardless. How the hell would I figure this out if it didn’t?”

Yeah, there’s a question but Tony leaves it alone at the moment. “Exactly. Now, I’m sure you have a text book or two that mentions scenting, read about it. Come to me with any questions you have, okay? I’ll have answers for most of them and I can find out what I don’t know.” Peter nods, looking more confident than he did ten minutes ago so that’s good, he can work with that.

#tony stark x peter parker #starker #alternate universe #abo fanfic

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 4 years

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DC:IRL

I’m sure this idea has been done before, but if it hasn’t then remember you heard it here first folks. I want to read a series of comics, superhero comics, set in a continuity where superpowers and magic and aliens do not exist. I want the same characters to be grounded in reality, what is ostensibly our world, the real world, to show how these familiar characters would act in mundane situations with earthly limitations.

Bruce Wayne: Thomas and Martha Wayne were essentially Bill and Melinda Gates, so their murders would be international news. They hid their 10-year-old son from the public eye (lets face it, how often do you hear about billionaires’ kids in the news?) but now he’s on the front page of every bloodsucking tabloid on the planet. How would that effect him growing up? There would be conspiracy theories surrounding his parents’ deaths, he’d never have a moments peace. He spends his formative years traveling around the globe, but in this continuity there’s no cabal of assassins, no League of Shadows pulling strings behind the scenes; Bruce Wayne never becomes a vigilante, because that’s not a thing that real billionaires do. What he does become is the world’s most prolific philanthropist. His parents never raised him, the help did; he had nannies and caretakers, and the primary beneficiary of his parents’ will was his butler Alfred, who became his legal guardian because he had no aunts or uncles. He isn’t obsessed with hoarding his billions because he doesn’t believe they are HIS to hoard, they’re just numbers in an account, and his caretakers have taught him that there are people who actually need the money. He has the ability to change countless lives on a whim, and chooses to do so regularly. He does more for the citizens of Gotham than the entire municipal government, which is all but run by the mob.

Clark Kent: a farm boy from Kansas moves away from home to make a name for himself in the big city. He becomes an investigative journalist for the Metropolis Times, one of the biggest newspapers in the country, though most of his pieces are published online (print is dying in this universe as in ours). He is a master manipulator, he is able to talk his way in and out of almost any situation, he leads people into revealing much more than they otherwise would have by convincing them they’re smarter than he is. He plays up his roots, he acts like a country hick who’s in way over his head so people underestimate him, but he’s always playing three moves ahead. He exposes corruption around the world, he may even be a household name like Jake Tapper or Rachel Maddow. He is also a fervent critic of Lex Luthor, the CEO of Nile, the owner of the Columbia Post (a competing newspaper to the Metropolis Times), 2024 presidential hopeful, and the richest man in the world. It is an open secret that Luthor is simultaneously the most corrupt man in the world, and he is obsessed with finding out the identity of the whistle blower that keeps leaking evidence of his crimes to the media. Not for one second does he suspect it could be mild mannered Clark Kent because “he’s just some podunk loser from Kentucky or whatever.” Kent hides in plain sight, in no small part thanks to Luthor’s hubris.

Diana Prince: the daughter of a former member of the Greek royal family (the monarchy was abolished in 1973), she is now an award winning human rights activist. She is an anti-war advocate who opposes American Interventionism, an environmentalist who helped fight fires in the Amazon, Times Person of the Year on two separate occasions, a Nobel Laureate for her opposition to the AFD party in Germany, and the leader of one of the largest women’s rights organizations on the planet. She finds herself at odds with one Barbara Ann Minerva, an eccentric billionaire who likes to pretend to be an archeologist; Minerva privately owns countless artifacts of both cultural and scientific importance to use as status symbols. Diana is a reverse Indiana Jones; instead of putting things in museums, she prides herself in returning stolen artifacts to their countries of origin. She may or may not have been the mastermind behind “The Great Repatriation,” the largest art heist since the 1990 Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum Theft. A half dozen British Museums were robbed of their Egyptian and Indian artifacts, all of which were mysteriously delivered to those country’s capitols; when their leaders refused to turn them over to British police, it nearly sparked an international incident. Prince denies responsibility for the heists, and no evidence has ever been found linking her to them.

Bruce Wayne funds countless halfway houses and rehab clinics; there’s even a wing named after him in Arkham Psychiatric Hospital upstate. Clark Kent supports immigration and is proud of Metropolis’ status as a Sanctuary City; all four of his biological grandparents survived the Holocaust, and his parents moved to the United States a few years before he was born (they died when he was a baby, and he was adopted by farmers Jonathan and Martha Kent). Diana Prince fights against far-right extremism, and there are audio recording of the current President of the United States demanding for her to be “taken out.”

The possibilities are endless; I would love to see some stories about people doing heroic things in non fantastical settings. That’s the escapism I crave, where good triumphs over evil as it should.

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fanfics4homoships · 4 years

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Name Change Nerves (Part 1)

PART 1

So this is a Spideyson fanfic about him being biologically a Stark and coming out to the world, I hope you enjoy.

Peter is flamboyant and gay in this fic BTW.

It is such a small change when you really think about it, but this will affect Peters life forever. The problem is it isn't even anything that needs legal action, this has always been his name just nobody outside his family knew about it. You see, Peter has been known to the outside world as Peter Parker for his whole life. Everyone was under the illusion that his last name was Parker, that just is not the case. Peter Anthony Parker Stark is his legal birth given name, and that makes him the child to one of the richest and most influential people in America.

He knows deep down that once this is out he will still be the same person, however, the idea that he could change his mind screaming at him in self-doubt and anxiety-ridden dreams. This is the secret worry he has been hiding from his family as soon as they told him when he turned 18, he would have to tell the world who he truly is. This isn't something they all want to do, if Peter could live his life out of the spotlight Tony would give anything to do that for his kid, but when that kid is inheriting a multi-billion dollar company and is the Queens vigilantly Spider-Man it is impossible to achieve.

Peter woke up at 6 am on Monday morning on his first day back at school, although he never wakes up early normally, Peter was excited because this was the year he was going to be himself fully. Peter stood up and turned off his alarm before making his bed again, he walked over to his ensuite bathroom to have a shower and facemask before getting dressed. As he stood in his walk-in wardrobe he picked out items to create his look, his Dad told him that since in a few months time it will be confirmed that he is a Stark he might as well dress, act, and look like one to spice things up in the media. Tony was very excited about the news talking about this new rich kid on the block and the speculations on their relations. So keeping that in mind Peter looked at himself in the body length mirror, he was wearing 6inch wedges in black with black skinny jeans. He has a Gucci belt and a science pun polo tucked in a french tuck, over the top he had a grey denim jacket over the top covered in patches on the back and on the front one that said "Gay-ish", he had a Sekonda black and navy blue watch on and a single piercing in his left lobe. He felt amazing, now to go to school and be self-conscious secretly all day.

"Petey come down here and have your breakfast" he heard his Mom call from down the corridor. He grabbed his pre-packed bag and walked out of his room and down the long hallway filled with half of his household family's rooms, stepping into the living room he smiled as he watched his crazy family getting ready for breakfast. Steve and Bucky had just gotten back from their morning run and now we’re sitting on the sofa with a bowl of cereal each, clint was sat in his nest (on top of the bookshelf in the corner of the room) he had a chocolate bar hanging out of his mouth and was cleaning his bow watching everything happening in the room. Sam and Pietro were sat on the sofa by the windows chatting and eating popcorn, Thor had been rummaging through cupboards looking for his pop tarts and Loki was seen putting 5 boxes of pop tarts under the sofa. Natasha and Wanda were having a long discussion with Bruce on the island waiting for their breakfast to be ready, Tony and Pepper were stood together over the hob making sausage, bacon and eggs for the people who wanted it. Peter was smiling widely to himself, he loves seeing his family together like this, especially since it wasn’t an everyday occurrence.

“Hi everyone!” Peter beamed, he waved to everyone as he placed his backpack next to the lift for when he leaves. He walked over to the island and pulled out his chair sitting down. Tony turned around with a pan full of bacon and placed a lot onto the plate in front of Peter.

“Hey Kid, what car do you want to take to school today. You’ve got the entire garage as an option from now on.” Tony asked Peter turning to the other to place the rest of the bacon on the respective plates. Pepper was doing the same with the eggs and sausages smiling at her husband and son decided which car they were taking.

“I saw you have the Lamborghini Veneno in the back that you haven’t used much, do you think we could take that? It is really cool!” Peter smiles at his father continuing to eat his meal.

“Sure thing kid, I’ll drive you in today.” Tony ruffles Peters’s hair and went back to his food. Today was going to be full of changes and people staring so they might as well have some fun with it.

Time Skip To When They Are Pulling Up To School

Also, this is the car they are in if you want to know.

As Tony got closer and closer to the school grounds Peters confidence was slowly deteriorating, this morning he had told himself that he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks but now he is almost there, he just wants to curl up in a ball and hide from the world. This shift in mood was noticed straight away by Tony, Peter had stopped ranting about nothingness and was staring out the window only talking to respond to a question.

“Hey Peter, you’re going to be fine, you know that right? Ted and MJ will be there with you and I’m just one button away. It’s fine to be nervous, hell I’d be more worried if you weren’t.” Tony’s voice was soothing but also playfully joked to try and lighten his son’s spirits, he placed a hand on Peters’s knee squeezing slightly before taking it way to continue driving.

“Thanks, dad. I know I’ll be fine I’m just nervous, I promise to call you if anything happens.” He turned towards Tony smiling and reached down to grab his backpack from next to his feet, they were just turning into the car parking area outside the front gates, Tony insisted earlier to drop him off right outside because as he puts it, “You might break your ankles wearing those shoes.” As they pulled up everyone around them turned to look at the expensive and unknown car, many even had taken their phone out to record and take photos. Luckily the windows were heavily tinted so nobody will be able to see or recognise Tony, Peter turned and gave his dad a big hug and said bye and that he loved him before opening up the passenger side door and stepping out.

When Peter got out he made sure not to look at anyone right away, he turned around and gave a small wave to Tony and shut the door waiting for him to drive off. Once Tony left he saw how many people were watching him, he stood up straight and kept his head up. Some advice Natasha came to mind and when he turned around to go inside he decided to follow it and it worked, Natasha told him if he is ever feeling nervous but all eyes are on him and he wants to look strong to think about killing or hurting the person you want to keep your head straight and don’t make eye contact. This makes everyone separate and not get in your way and makes you look very confident in yourself even if your not. So as Peter walked past everyone he thought about every single criminal he has stopped and the ones he will and strutted down the corridor, everyone was staring at him but he was too focused to care. He walked over to where his locker was and saw Ned standing there waiting for him, his face softened intently at the sight of his best friend. Once they got close enough to each other they started doing their handshake as normal.

“Hey, Ned! How have you been?” Peter said while opening up his locker to sort out his things for the day. Ned told him all about the holiday he had been on and the new lego set he was given, Peter loved to hear his friend talk about his life. Although the two had been best friends for years Peter was never able to talk fully about his family and was never allowed to take his friend around his, this was because Ned was terrible at keeping secrets and his safety previously had relied upon secrecy. Ned understood because he knew one day he would be told for now he just fantasised about the possible awesomeness of Peter's life. Before school started he had messaged Ned telling him today he would find out the secrets of his life, he promised he’d explain everything at lunch. Ned was talking about that now, his theories were ridiculous which amused Peter but what was the funniest thing was that Ned hadn’t even noticed his expensive clothing and some obvious giveaways such as the not released Stark Phone he held out in his hand.

The pair were walking towards their first lesson, it was chemistry together with Mr Cobbwell, they were meeting up with MJ in class beforehand. She already knew Peters secret having found out in her own way, luckily she kept it a secret and they had become even closer than before, they had even agreed to be each others wingman/woman. When they walked into class they greeted their teacher and went to sit next to MJ who was currently reading a book called ‘Surrounded By Idiots’ very fitting.

“Sup losers.” MJ put her bookmark in and turned to see her two friends. Peter sat next to her and Ned was across the table to them both, they were talking about pleasant nonsense as the class started to fill up. They stopped talking when Mr Cobbwell told everyone to be quiet for the register, this was the moment Peter had been dreading. On the school system, his name has been changed back to saying Stark and since there is also a Peter Andrews in this class Mr Cobbwell insists on saying both their first and last names.

Peter sat nervously bouncing his leg viciously, Ned was giving him a strange look and MJ was trying to calm him down since she had already guessed what was about to happen. Mr Cobbwell was saying the names off the register and had just finished the P section, Ned noticed this and looked over at the teacher and back to Peter. Peter looked at him and smiles slightly whispering a simple “Wait for it.” this made Ned very excited.

“Amy Sitlock, Louise Sopper, Jake Sopper, oh is this correct?” Mr Cobbwell read off the names on the register stopping at Peter, Peter nodded his head shyly at his teacher and sat there in anticipation. This was the moment everyone was going to find out.

“Peter Stark.”

There were a few seconds of silence when he said those two words then an uproar of questions arose from the class all directed at Peter and only a few to Mr Cobbwell mainly checking that they heard him right. Ned looked like a deer in headlights for a few minutes before he jumped out of his seat and ran to hug Peter as hard as he could.

“Oh my, Thor! Oh my, Thor! I can’t believe this! You’re Mr Starks kid! I’m best friends with Iron Man's son!” Ned shouted not letting go of Peter until he finished and didn’t stop jumping up and down until the teacher told him to get back into his chair and for the class to quiet down so he could finish the register.

“Everyone Quiet!” his voice echoed throughout the room, he could be very serious if he needed to be. “ I’m sure you have lots of questions, however, it is up to Peter if he wishes to answer any and I expect you to respect his decision whatever it may be. I need to finish the register and then you can ask a few questions, only if that is okay with you Peter.” The class went silent looking at Peter in anticipation, they hoped he’d let them ask their questions now.

Peter sat up in sit properly now there were lots of eyes on him, he thought his answer for a second before deciding to let them question him. He didn’t want to get too swarmed at break and lunch today.

“You can ask questions but some answers might classified information so I’ll just say classified if that is the case and you can’t question further on that. If that okay?”

There was a chorus of agreements before it went silent again for the register, this was going to be a long day.

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thefuriousstarlightstudent · 5 years

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Chapter two of The Avengers Meet (Kid) Loki is here! Hopefully y’all enjoy!

"So what? You're Loki in a world where he's a kid?" Banner asked. "Kid Loki?"

Loki bristled. Why must they refer to him as a child? He was no such thing. Not that they knew that, of course. Not even Thor, who only saw him as his carefree, innocent, younger self.

"I am not a child," Loki growled.

"You're thirteen," Iron Man deadpanned. "A child."

"I am older than any of you mortals here," he said, taking a deep breath to remain calm. "While I may look like a child, I am still hundreds of years old. Not a child."

"Biologically you are," Black Widow reminded him. "Chronology doesn't matter."

"If you insist," Loki said primly. "Now, how are we going to find me a way home? I really must be getting back. End of the world and all that. Similar to what you have going on here."

"It's not the end of the world," Steve Rogers said. "We stopped Loki - I mean your older self - not really you though, you know what I-" he stopped speaking, flustered. "We stopped the adult Loki."

"Hmm," Loki hummed. He doubted any version of him would allow himself to be captured so easily or be reckless enough to be captured. Something more was going on here, but it wasn't Loki's problem at the moment. He wouldn't interfere unless it kept him from getting home. "Do any of you have any experience with cross-dimensional theory?"

"That's not my field of expertise," Iron Man said, albeit reluctantly. "And Brucie here is more a chemistry and biology guy. Erik Selvig would be our go to, except…"

"Except he's still missing," Black Widow finished. "We haven't even had a chance to interrogate Loki, what with having to deal with you."

"Then talk to him," Loki said, waving a hand. "I'm sure I can make do with these two until someone with more expertise comes along."

"Is he always like this?" Iron Man whispered rather loudly to Thor.

"I do not know. While he is Loki, he is not my Loki. I have already noticed differences," Thor replied, not even bothering to whisper.

"Kid, we're not having anyone come right away. Locating the Tesseract is more important at the moment than getting you home. Banner and Stark are going to be busy with that," Black Widow said sternly. "Stay with them."

Loki nodded quickly. The Tesseract, she had said? Well, well, well, there just may be a way for him to get home without needing Midgardian scientists and technology after all. He just needed to find the Tesseract before them. And the only way to do that would be to question Loki.

He sat down quietly, perhaps quieter than he'd been on this whole adventure so far, playing the part of a patient child. When an agent entered the room with a plate of food and a few packets of something Loki recognized though, he put the act aside, if only for a moment.

"Thank you," he managed to choke out though, knowing it was what would be expected. The agent merely nodded before exiting the room. He pounced on the fries and chicken nuggets, tearing the ketchup packets and practically drowning the food in the sweet red sauce.

"Well, that's a weird thing to see," he heard Iron Man say. "Never thought you'd be the type of kid who likes ketchup and fries.

Loki scoffed. "I care not about fries. Ketchup, however, is an invention that I must praise Midgard for. It should be served with everything."

"Everything?" Banner asked dubiously.

"Everything," Loki confirmed solemnly.

Just as he suspected, they both relaxed as he continued to eat. It was just as he'd expected. Now, to leave an illusion in his place. They wouldn't expect it, especially since he was an 'innocent' child.

It didn't take much to create the illusion on top of him and even less to disguise his real self from view as he simply left the room. He walked down the halls of the base, passing many agents, who were all fooled by his magic. As long as he didn't run into anyone or make too much noise they would never know he was walking right by them.

By the time he arrived in front of the door he thought Loki - this dimension's Loki - was being kept behind, his senses were being overwhelmed with magic. It permeated the air, making it thick and hard to see. Metaphorically, that was. Loki could see in front of himself just fine. The point was that this magic wasn't like Billy's or even Loki's own magic. It was darker. Dirtier. It made Loki shudder a little.

Black Widow was not in there, nor was Thor. In fact, they were on the opposite end of the Helicarrier from what he senses. Probably talking to Nick Fury about some small detail or other before coming to interrogate this Loki. All the more time for Loki to question his adult self.

He waved his fingers, whispering a word quietly. The door opened. Loki slipped inside and shut it behind him. Inside the room was a cell, glass and clear. Inside the cell was a man, facing the opposite wall. His hair was long, but not messy. Longer than Loki would have imagined this dimension's version of him would like it though.

"Come to question me, brother," a voice asked, high and cold. "I'm afraid I have nothing to say to you."

"Actually, I think you do," Loki said casually.

The man in the cell whipped around, eyes wide, staring in utter bafflement at Loki. Hmm, was that really what Loki looked like as an adult back when he'd had his true body? He looked rather sallow. It was more than a little strange to see that.

"Who are you?" Loki asked.

"I am Loki," Loki replied.

"What sort of trickery is this? You cannot be real," Loki said. "But Thor is not one for tricks and none of these mortals are skilled enough in magic to do such a thing. So who are you? Truthfully?"

"I am Loki Laufayson. I am Loki Odinson. Liesmith and Silvertongue, as I was once called," Loki said, spreading his arms wide and smiling with too many teeth. "I have many names. Ikol was one once. Lady Loki another time. I am Loki, but not dimension is not my home."

"You are me from another dimension," Loki said wonderingly. "One where I am merely a child? How… pathetic," Loki spit finally.

"I am not a child," Loki growled. "I am merely stuck in the pathetic body of one. I need to get home if I ever hope to regain my true power. Now tell me, where is the Tesseract?"

Loki laughed cruelly. "You think I just mean to give it to you? On the word of a child, one who I know to not be worthy of trust?"

Loki ignored the twinge of hurt at being called untrustworthy. He was untrustworthy. He had never tried to hide from that before or been ashamed. Why was he now?

"You will tell me where it is or I will tell them your plan," Loki said smugly.

"You do not know my plan. It is too complex for a child's mind to grasp."

"What about a child you?" Loki asked. The other Loki stayed silent, only glaring at Loki through the glass wall. "That's what I thought."

"I will not allow myself to be manipulated by a child," Loki growled again. Seriously, this Loki growled a lot.

Loki took a few steps closer to the cage until he was close enough to touch it and surveyed the older Loki silently. He furrowed his brow. Why were this Loki's eyes blue? That certainly couldn't be their color in this dimension. Then again, there were lots of possible explanations. It wouldn't do to jump to conclusions.

Just as Loki was about to add more he heard a noise. Curse it all, Black Widow was almost here. Loki quickly walked towards the door and waited. A moment later Black Widow opened it, walking right past him. Loki thanked all he had that his spell was still working. Thanked all he had it would hide him from the cameras no-doubt in the room and hallways as well.

In no time at all, he was back inside the room with Iron Man and Bruce Banner, who hadn't seemed to notice his disappearance. Loki waved a hand and made his illusion dissipate, sitting back down on the chair himself.

"Wow, you must be proud of yourself," a voice said dryly. Loki groaned. First his interrogation of Loki was interrupted and now this? Loki ignored the ghostly version of himself who'd appeared steadfastly.

"Ignoring me. How childish. You're so awful," he said simply like he was talking about dinner or the weather perhaps. "I shouldn't have expected much more from a murderer though."

"Please, just stop," Loki whispered quietly, careful to keep Iron Man and Banner from hearing. "Please."

He, as much as he didn't want to admit it, felt guilty. Terrible. He felt… Loki felt like a monster. Some part of him tried to believe that it was just being in this body, having these emotions, no doubt due to hormones or something of the sort that was causing this.

He didn't want to admit it, didn't want to believe. But Loki… no, it was just hormones. It would pass. He would feel normal again if only his other self would just go away.

"Why? Is it hard to face the fact that you're a monster? That you killed a kid. Because not even when you were grown-up and evil did you kill a kid, not on purpose at least." His other self smiled pityingly at him. "Was this an evil you could not cross without becoming changed?"

Loki shook his head firmly. He wasn't lying. He wasn't. So why did he sound like he was trying to convince himself?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17250128/chapters/40746737

#kid loki #loki #avengers movie #mcu #travel through dimensions #different dimensions #marvel comics #writing #my writing #ao3fic #ao3 link

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letthesleepingdoglie · 5 years

Text

From Whence He Sprang - 09

Title: Never Left or Right

Part: 09 of 18

Rated: M

The Batcave

Gotham City

January 17th, 2012

17:24 EST

Team Year One

“You look like crap.” Artemis noted as she stepped off the open elevator platform that had brought her down into the Batcave.

Dick tore his gaze from the screen in front of him and turned to look over his shoulder at his friend. At least, he tried to. The movement was stiff and sluggish on account of the many bandages and stitches covering his exposed torso. It had taken Alfred the better part of an hour to patch up all the wounds that Dick had received from the fight last night, and the last thing that he wanted to do was tear all the meticulously stitched cuts open.

Now that the adrenaline from the events of last night had worn off, each and every one of the wounds he’d received ached and throbbed as he moved. The fight with the mysterious assassins had been so intense that he didn’t remember receiving half of them.

“You should see Bruce.” Dick grunted as he finally managed to complete his turn.

“Seriously?” Artemis asked, an expression of surprise on her face. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen the dark knight seriously injured. “What happened to you guys?”

Dick shrugged. “Assassins, sword fights, explosions. The usual.”

A cursory glance told him that she must have come straight from school; she was still wearing her hated Gotham Academy uniform.

“What brings you all the way out here?” He asked her, which was a valid question. Batman didn’t have a Zeta Tube installed in the cave, and Wayne Manor was a relatively long trip from her home in the East End.

It was Artemis’ turn to shrug. “You missed class. I was worried.”

Dick suppressed a small smirk, though he tried to hide it. Artemis always put on a tough front so that people wouldn’t see how vulnerable she truly was, but it was always endearing to see that she cared.

“Plus,” she continued, pulling a handful of papers from her backpack, “Barb wanted me to make sure you got your homework.”

Dick groaned, but took the papers from Artemis and flipped through them. It wouldn't take more than an hour to get through, but it would be tedious, and he had bigger fish to fry at the moment.

Artemis took advantage of Dick’s momentary distraction to glance at the screen that he'd been working on. A meaningless scroll of names, numbers and code flashed across the screen. “What’re you working on?”

“A difficult case.” He put his homework to one side and hit a few keys on the bat-computer’s keyboard, bringing up the relevant files and images for Artemis to skim through.

“About two weeks ago, Batman and I met a kid named Jason Todd and sent him over to the Catherine Hershey school. Yesterday, we got word from Commissioner Gordon that he’d gone missing. We went to the school to see if we could find any leads on what happened to him and ended up being ambushed by a group of assassins working for something called the Court of Owls.”

He pointed up at the corner of the screen, where the image of a man with inverted eyes was displayed. “He was their leader. Called himself Shrike.”

Artemis frowned as she looked at the picture. “What’s the Court of Owls?”

“We have no clue.” Dick sighed in frustration. “The assassins blew themselves up when they realized that they were going to lose. We’ve been looking since the attack and haven’t found anything. Batman’s never heard of it, and I can’t find any references to it in anywhere.”

Artemis’ frown deepened. It was rare for Batman to have never heard of something. “Do you have any leads?”

“Not many.” Dick admitted. He gestured over to the side, where several items sat arranged on top of a high-tech scanning bed. The mask that Robin had removed from Shrike. The swords and throwing knives the assassins had dropped in their fight. Charred pieces of limbs and barely identifiable chunks of tissue.

“Most of the physical evidence was obliterated in the explosions. We’ve run their DNA through all the databases we could and come up with nothing. Their gear is also untraceable. We’re analyzing what’s left, but nothing yet. Batman’s back at the school, looking for anything we missed.” Dick sighed. “All we really know for certain is that the Court of Owls is good.”

He tapped at the keyboard again, bringing up a series of case files bearing the GCPD’s logo. “Look at this.”

Artemis moved so that she was standing next to Dick’s chair and peered at the display. Dozens of names and faces populated the screen, each identifying a child between the ages of 10 to 13. “What am I looking at?”

“GCPD missing persons reports. Specifically, children listed as missing from the Catherine Hershey School. Notice anything?”

Artemis frowned. Some of the kidnappings stretched back decades, with some going all the way back to the 70s, when the GCPD had started keeping track of missing kids. She realized what she was supposed to be looking for as she read the dates listed on the files.

“Like clockwork… One kid disappears every four years. Jason was just the latest.”

“Right.” Dick confirmed. “And those are just the disappearances that we have official records for. Unofficially, I managed to dig up reports of similar disappearances stretching all the way back to the school’s founding.”

“Why?” Artemis asked, incredulous. For a school to have this many missing kids… Granted, this was Gotham City, but still, even accounting for the fact that a boarding school oriented towards strays and orphans would probably have more runaways and disappearances, how had someone not noticed?

“I don’t know.” Dick said. He was clearly frustrated, which was understandable. He’d been trying to come up with the answer to that question for the last few hours. The problem was, he didn’t know if that was the right question to ask.

At first, both he and Batman had based their theories on the assumption that Jason had been kidnapped because someone was trying to bait them; after all, it was a common enough strategy amongst their regular rogue’s gallery. But now that he’d dug deeper and found the reports of serial disappearances, he was forced to come up with new theories to work around.

It was like trying to put together a puzzle, except he didn’t have all the pieces, he didn’t know which pieces he had were useful, and he had no idea what the final image would look like.

Knowing that a child’s life was likely on the line, his inability to figure the situation out was maddening.

“Any ideas?” Dick asked her. “I could use a fresh pair of eyes on this.”

Artemis hesitated, considering how she could best contribute. It wasn’t that Artemis thought she wasn’t smart enough to help, or that she was intimidated by the fact that her mentor wasn’t a world renowned detective. The simple truth was that most of the things that she could think of right then and there would have already occurred to him. If she wanted to help, she needed to draw on the resources and skills that she had exclusive access to.

“How good were the assassins who attacked you?” She asked.

“Very.”

“League of Shadows good?” She pressed.

“No. Better. Much better.”

Artemis considered that for a moment before pulling out her phone. “I’ll ask my mom if she heard of anyone like them when she was part of the League. They try to keep tabs on anyone that has skills like that.”

“Thanks.”

As Artemis took a few steps away so that she could call her mom without disturbing Dick, an automated notification popped up on the Bat-computer’s screen to tell him that the detailed scan he’d been running on the assassin’s bodies was done.

“Whoa…” Dick breathed as he read through the results.

Almost every biological sample that he and Batman managed to collect displayed some evidence of either chemical or genetic manipulation. For example, the assassin’s blood contained cells that looked like normal platelets, but upon closer inspection, appeared to function much more effectively, clotting in a matter of seconds rather than minutes. Fragments of bone revealed that their skeletons had been coated in a porous material that allowed biological materials to pass through, but was as strong and as light as titanium. There were even remnants of organs that the bat-computer didn’t recognize as human.

No wonder he hadn’t been able to find a match in any of the databases he’d looked at. Even something as fundamental as their DNA had been re-written to include what looked like distinct strands of animal genes. This was almost Cadmus level gene-manipulation; there were parts that barely looked human anymore.

It wasn’t just the sheer scale of the enhancements that Dick found overwhelming, but also the amount of time it must have taken to implement them. He’d seen full body augmentation and reconstruction before, of course, but it wasn’t something you could do all at once. Even with advanced tech from STAR Labs, someone undergoing this much surgery and gene therapy would need, at best, several years to adjust to all the changes being wrought on his or her body.

Years… Dick realized with a start, as a disturbing thought crossed his mind.

Working quickly, he minimized everything on the computer screen except for the picture of Shrike’s face that the cameras built into his mask had captured, then opened up a program that had been designed for forensic investigators so that they could “age” pictures of young children to find out what they might look like several years after their respective disappearances.

Dick ran the process in reverse, taking a scan of Shrike’s face and reversing the aging process so that it displayed an approximation of what Shrike might have looked like at the age of 12. Granted, the image was very, very, very rough, but at least it gave him something to work with. He ran the image through every database concerning missing children that he had access to, both within the US and internationally.

Even with a super computer as powerful as the one that was built into the Batcave, the search still took a few minutes.

That gave Dick a moment to ponder. And to hope he was wrong. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Artemis was done with her phone call until she was standing next to him.

“Nothing.” She told him, tucking her phone away. “My mom says she’ll ask around though.”

He looked over at her. “Are you sure? I don’t want her to get into any trouble.”

Artemis waved his concerns away. “It’s fine. She knows how to take care of herself. Besides, I think she likes being able to help with hero stuff. It gives her something to do besides sit around the house all day, you know?”

“Mmm.” Dick conceded. He could empathize with that.

He sighed, rubbing his face, giving his eyes a rest. He’d been working non-stop on this since the ambush last night. Just because he was used to long hours of work didn’t mean that it never caught up with him. It was just hard to focus on things that seemed as trivial as food and sleep when someone’s life was on the line.

“Are you alright?” Artemis asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah.” Dick said, pushing himself upright in his chair. “It’s just been a rough day.“

“You should get some rest.” She said. Dick glanced at her. He recognized that tone. Despite phrasing it as a suggestion, Artemis’ voice made clear that she was prepared to frog march him upstairs if she thought it would be necessary.

Oh, to have an big sister like Artemis.

“I’m just gonna finish this search, then I’ll grab a quick nap.” Dick promised.

Artemis crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. It wouldn’t have been the first time that he’d made a similar promise to her, only for her to return hours later to find him slumped over the keyboard, fast asleep.

“I will.” He insisted when she didn’t budge.

She continued to stare at him for a few moments longer before she uncrossed her arms. Inwardly, Dick breathed a sigh of relief.

“Fine.” Artemis said as she made her way back towards the elevator leading up to the manor. “But if you don’t give Zatanna a call by the time I get back from the Cave, I will beat the crap out of you.”

“Fair enough.” He conceded.

Artemis rolled her eyes, but gave a quick wave goodbye as the elevator doors slid shut.

The computer chimed in with a notification, letting him know that the search was done. Facial recognition had found a relatively close match for a child that had gone missing in Oregon.

“Matthew Board.” Dick said to himself, reading the name at the top of the report. Born to David and Serena Board, September 1975. The youngest of four children. Reported as missing January 16th, 1988. The official notes listed it as likely the child had run away from home.Interestingly, it hadn’t been his parents who had reported Matthew as missing, but a teacher at the school he had gone to. He ran a quick check and found that both the mother and father had criminal records, mostly for drug related offenses, though there were more than a few citations from Child Protection Services as well.

Dick’s discomfort was starting to grow. It felt like the picture on the puzzle was starting to become clearer. Matthew matched Jason’s profile almost exactly. A child from a rough background, around the age of 12, whose disappearance wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.

This being the United States, which maintained a national database of missing children, there were DNA records for Matthew on file that Dick could access. He pulled these up and compared them to the samples that he had recovered from Shrike.

After Dick edited the sequences of animal DNA and removed them from the analysis, they were almost a perfect match.

Shrike was, or had been, Matthew Board.

Dick’s blood ran cold at the realization. Whatever the Court of Owls was, it had been kidnapping children in order to turn them into super-powered sociopathic killers. They’d been doing it in Gotham for years, decades even, right under their noses.

And he and Batman had put Jason right in their path.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The Labyrinth

Location Unknown

Time Unknown

Jason knew he was going to die.

That was his only rational thought as he stumbled forward through the dark, displaying none of the learned caution or stealth that he normally would have used. In truth, he was so consumed by the realization of his impending demise that he was scarcely aware of his surroundings, moving forward out of stubbornness rather than any real hope of going anywhere.

He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The way he would die was irrelevant. Cut apart by another booby trap. Bludgeoned to death by the fists of ferals and torn apart to be eaten. Finally succumbing to the gnawing pit of hunger and thirst that was welling up inside of him. It would all mean the same thing in the end: dying, alone, down in the dark.

Strange, to think of his death in such dispassionate terms. In a way, the only thing that surprised him was the fact that he was still alive.

He hadn’t seen any signs of life for…

He didn’t know.

He didn’t remember.

He didn’t care.

Lorena. Joseph. Chris. Sean. They all probably thought he was dead.

Maybe they were right. It certainly felt like he was in hell right now.

For all he knew, they were the ones who were dead. The tunnels reeked of so much decay and abandonment that he couldn’t really believe that there was anyone friendly left in the world. Moving through the darkness, still covered with clotting blood and other visceral filth, he felt so cut off and isolated from everything that nothing felt real.

One of the few reassuring things he still felt was the weight of the knife in his hand. He vaguely recalled prying it, his own hands still sticky with blood, from the grasp of a fragmented skeleton that he’d tripped over as he’d stumbled through the dark. Judging from the size of the remains, it had probably belonged to a past aspirant. One who had fallen into the blood pool, just as he had, and somehow died, just as he would.

The knowledge had scared him at first. He had stared at the knife for a long time, knowing that he could have turned the weapon on himself, ended all of the pain that he had endured and the pain sure to come by slitting his own throat.

The prospect had, admittedly, been tempting.

But Jason hadn’t done it. Instead, he thought back to when he’d found James’ body.

His friend had known he was going to die the moment he realized he’d been caught in the floor trap that had dumped both of them down here. Even with everything that had happened to him, he’d gone down fighting, quite literally tearing the guts out of his feral killer.

Even in death, James would have avenged himself had Jason not intervened.

That seemed like a good example to follow.

If Jason was going to die no matter what he did, he wanted to die doing something, die fighting his fate. As much as he wanted the suffering to end, he wouldn’t take the easy way out. As much pain as it would bring, he would keep moving, resist, even if brought him to the bitterest of ends.

Jason clutched his looted knife tighter and kept moving forwards.

It was as good a direction as any other.

#young justice #young justice fanfic #young justice fanfiction #batman #robin #dick grayson #jason todd #the court of owls

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in-the-shade-of-a-rooks-wing · 7 years

Text

HAS SUCCESS SPOILED THE CROW?

The Puzzling Case File on the World's Smartest Bird

Any person with no steady job and no children naturally finds time for a sizable amount of utterly idle speculation. For instance, me - I've developed a theory about crows. It goes like this:

Crows are bored. They suffer from being too intelligent for their station in life. Respectable evolutionary success is simply not, for these brainy and complex birds, enough. They are dissatisfied with the narrow goals and horizons of that tired old Darwinian struggle. On the lookout for a new challenge. See them there, lined up conspiratorially along a fence rail or a high wire, shoulder to shoulder, alert, self-contained, missing nothing. Feeling...discreetly thwarted. Waiting, like an ambitious understudy, for their break. Dolphins and whales and chimpanzees get all the fawning publicity, great fuss made over their near-human intelligence. But don't be fooled. Crows are not stupid. Far from it. They are merely underachievers. They are bored.

Most likely it runs in their genes, along with the black plumage and the talent for vocal mimicry. Crows belong to a remarkable family of birds known as the Corvidae, also including ravens, magpies, jackdaws, and jays, and the case file on this entire clan is so full of prodigious and quirky behavior that it cries out for interpretation not by an ornithologist but a psychiatrist. Or, failing that, some ignoramus with a supple theory. Computerized ecologists can give us those fancy equations depicting the whole course of a creature's life history in terms of energy allotment to every physical need, with variables for fertility and senility and hunger and motherly love; but they haven't yet programmed in a variable for boredom. No wonder the Corvidae dossier is still packed with unanswered questions.

At first glance, though, all is normal: Crows and their corvid relatives seem to lead an exemplary birdlike existence. The home life is stable and protective. Monogamy is the rule, and most mated pairs stay together until death. Courtship is elaborate, even rather tender, with the male doing a good bit of bowing and dancing and jiving, not to mention supplying his intended with food; eventually he offers the first scrap of nesting material as a sly hint that they get on with it. While she incubates a clutch of four to six eggs, he continues to furnish the groceries, and stands watch nearby at night. Then for a month after hatching, both parents dote on the young. Despite strenuous care, mortality among fledglings is routinely high, sometimes as high as 70 percent, but all this crib death is counterbalanced by the longevity of the adults. Twenty-year-old crows are not unusual, and one raven in captivity survived to age twenty-nine. Anyway, corvids show no inclination toward breeding themselves up to huge numbers, filling the countryside with their kind (like the late passenger pigeon, or an infesting variety of insect) until conditions shift for the worse, and a vast population collapses. Instead, crows and their relatives reproduce at roughly the same stringent rate through periods of bounty or austerity, maintaining levels of population that are modest but consistent, and which can be supported throughout any foreseeable hard times. In this sense they are astute pessimists. One consequence of such modesty of demographic ambition is to leave them with excess time, and energy, not desperately required for survival.

The other thing they possess in excess is brainpower. They have the largest cerebral hemispheres, relative to body size, of any avian family. On various intelligence tests - to measure learning facility, clock-reading skills, and the ability to count - they have made other birds look doltish. One British authority, Sylvia Bruce Wilmore, pronounces them "quicker on the uptake" than certain well-thought-of mammals like the cat and the monkey, and admits that her own tamed crow so effectively dominated the other animals in her household that this bird "would even pick up the spaniel's leash and lead him around the garden!" Wilmore also adds cryptically: "Scientists at the University of Mississippi have been successful in getting the cooperation of crows." But she fails to make clear whether that was as test subjects, or on a consultative basis.

From other crow experts come the same sort of anecdote. Crows hiding food in all manner of unlikely spots and relying on their uncanny memories, like adepts at the game of Concentration, to find the caches again later. Crows using twenty-three distinct forms of call to communicate various sorts of information to each other. Crows in flight dropping clams and walnuts on highway pavement, to break open the shells so the meats can be eaten. Then there's the one about the hooded crow, a species whose range includes Finland: "In this land Hoodies show great initiative during winter when men fish through holes in the ice. Fishermen leave baited lines in the water to catch fish and on their return they have found a Hoodie pulling in the line with its bill, and walking away from the hole, then putting down the line and walking back on it to stop it sliding, and pulling it again until [the crow] catches the fish on the end of the line." These birds are bright.

And probably - according to my theory - they are too bright for their own good. You know the pattern. Time on their hands. Under-employed and over-qualified. Large amounts of potential just lying fallow. Peck up a little corn, knock back a few grasshoppers, carry a beakful of dead rabbit home for the kids, then fly over to sit on a fence rail with eight or ten cronies and watch some poor farmer sweat like a sow at the wheel of his tractor. An easy enough life, but is this it? Is this all?

If you don't believe me just take my word for it: crows are bored.

And so there arise, as recorded in the case file, these certain...no, symptoms is too strong. Call them, rather, patterns of gratuitous behavior.

For example, they play a lot. Animal play is a reasonably common phenomenon, at least among certain mammals, especially in the young of those species. Play activities, by definition, are any that serve no immediate biological function, and which therefore do not directly improve the animal's prospects for survival and reproduction. The corvids, according to expert testimony, are irrepressibly playful. In fact, they show the most complex play known in birds. Ravens play toss with themselves in the air, dropping and catching again a small twig. They lie on their backs and juggle objects (in one recorded case, a rubber ball) between beak and feet. They jostle each other sociably in a version of "king of the mountain" with no real territorial stakes. Crows are equally frivolous. They play a brand of rugby, wherein one crow picks up a white pebble or a bit of shell and flies from tree to tree, taking a friendly bashing from its buddies until it drops the token. And they have a comedy/acrobatic routine: allowing themselves to tip backward dizzily from a wire perch, holding a loose grip so as to hang upside down, spreading out both wings, then daringly letting go with one foot; finally, switching feet to let go with the other. Such shameless hot-dogging is usually performed for a small audience of other crows.

There is also an element of the practical joker. Of the Indian house crow, Wilmore says: "...this crow has a sense of humor, and revels in the discomfort caused by its playful tweaking at the tails of other birds, and at the ears of sleeping cows and dogs; it also pecks the toes of flying foxes as they hang sleeping in their roosts." This crow is a laugh riot. Another of Wilmore's favorite species amuses itself, she says, by "dropping down on sleeping rabbits and rapping them over the skull or settling on drowsy cattle and startling them." What we have here is actually a distinct subcategory of playfulness known, where I come from at least, as "cruisin' for a bruisin'". It has been clinically linked to boredom.

Further evidence: crows are known to indulge in sunbathing. "When sunning at fairly high intensity," says another British corvidist, "the bird usually positions itself sideways on to the sun and erects its feathers, especially those on head, belly, flanks and rump." So the truth is out: Under those sleek ebony feathers, they are tan. And of course sunbathing (like ice-fishing, come to think of it) constitutes prima facie proof of a state of paralytic ennui.

But the final and most conclusive bit of data comes from a monograph by K. E. L. Simmons published in the Journal of Zoology, out of London. (Perhaps it's for deep reasons of national character that the British lead the world in the study of crows; in England, boredom has great cachet.) Simmons's paper is curiously entitled "Anting and the Problem of Self-Stimulation." Anting as used here is simply the verb (or to be more precise, participial) form of the insect. In ornithological parlance, it means that a bird - for reasons that remain mysterious - has taken to rubbing itself with mouthfuls of squashed ants. Simmons writes: "True anting consists of highly stereotyped movements whereby the birds apply ants to their feathers or expose their plumage to the ants." Besides direct application, done with the beak, there is also a variant called passive anting: The bird intentionally squats on a disturbed anthill, allowing (inviting) hundreds of ants to swarm over its body.

Altogether strange behavior, and especially notorious for it are the corvids. Crows avidly rub their bodies with squashed ants. They wallow amid busy ant colonies and let themselves become acrawl. They revel in formication.

Why? One theory is that the formic acid produced (as a defense chemical) by some ants is useful for conditioning feathers and ridding the birds of external parasites. But Simmons cites several other researchers who have independently reached a different conclusion. One of these scientists declared that the purpose of anting "is the stimulation and soothing of the body," and that the general effect "is similar to that gained by humanity from the use of external stimulants, soothing ointments, counter-irritants (including formic acid) and perhaps also smoking." Another compared anting to "the human habits of smoking and drug-taking" and maintained that "it has no biological purpose but is indulged in for its own sake, for the feeling of well-being and ecstasy it induces..."

You know the pattern. High intelligence, large promise. Early success without great effort. Then a certain loss of purposefulness. Manifestations of detachment and cruel humor. Boredom. Finally the dangerous spiral into drug abuse.

But maybe it's not too late for the corvids. Keep that in mind next time you run into a raven, or a magpie, or a crow. Look the bird in the eye. Consider its frustrations. Try to say something stimulating.

#hugin #theme #plague

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thisishowyouletgoandfindyou-blog · 7 years

Text

Up From Chaos

No one covets a stressful childhood. But the later-life benefits of growing up in a tumultuous home are beginning to come to light, upending conventional wisdom in the process.

By Megan Hustad, published on March 7, 2017 - last reviewed on March 14, 2017

Illustration by Gérard Dubois

Sarah* grew up as an only child in a middle-class Los Angeles home that wasn't nearly as sunny as it appeared from the outside. On the rare evenings when her father was home for dinner, she wished he had stayed at the office. She was used to the tension her mother alone brought to the dinner table. But having two problem drinkers to contend with was more than a 10-year-old could handle. An evening might proceed smoothly—or someone might have a bottle broken on his head.

Her childhood left an indelible impression on Sarah, who is now in her late fifties, a happily married grandmother of three as well as a published author and writing teacher. She recalls growing up "in constant emotional danger. There was never a time when I felt comfortable, when I could relax." She remembers thinking everything was her fault and says she still tends to apologize too much today. The smallest affectionate gesture can send her back to her youth, feeling trapped, anxious, and desperate for escape. "I feel sorry for my husband," she admits. "He'll take my hand while we wait at an intersection, and my gut instinct is to yank it away and start running."

But Sarah also credits her upbringing for giving her the observational skills of a master spy. She can sense when people are hiding something from her, and her reading of the power dynamics in any room comes as if by instinct. "I can see how people stand in relation to each other in an instant," she says. "I can see where fear is coming from, where openness is coming from." The skills needed to navigate her turbulent childhood appear to serve her well as an adult.

What possible benefit is there in a tumultuous childhood? It is not an easy question to ask, particularly as each stressful upbringing is stressful in its own way. Some involve grinding poverty and some, overt abuse, while others are built on constant destabilizing neglect, or "undercare." These varied experiences are now the basis of cross-disciplinary research indicating that stories like Sarah's are not just the result of make-lemonade-out-of-lemons pluck. Early lives shape the very hardware of our brains, leaving some people impaired in certain respects, but others measurably stronger. As it happens, some of the adaptations taken on by children in stressful environments can come in handy later on.

Few who suffered deeply during childhood would wish the same experience on their own children. But as one self-identified survivor of a painful childhood concludes, "I'd be lying if I didn't acknowledge that misery benefited me in some ways."

A New Perspective

The downsides of a rough upbringing are well-documented. The standard model holds that early suffering leads to further setbacks as an adult because those who emerge from a punishing childhood are so damaged by those years that they may never live up to their full potential. They may be more prone to depression and score lower on tests of intelligence and memory. They also appear to be at greater risk for a range of physical ailments, from chronic back pain to heart disease.

Adults who experienced significant childhood stress can display a hostile attribution bias, meaning they perceive threats in situations that others properly view as neutral. Such a cognitive glitch can hamper the ability to form the kind of alliances that professional and social success most depends on. "It is essentially a biological phenomenon," or a dysregulated fight-or-flight response, says Daniel Keating, of the University of Michigan. "It means that the system designed to regulate your stress response is either undershooting the mark or overshooting it." Overshooting leaves you "reacting to things that are not significant threats in the world, but are either imagined threats or neutral things that you interpret as threats." It also makes you slower to return to your baseline. The effect can produce kids more likely to act rashly, even when unprovoked, who turn into sullen, withdrawn adolescents and, perhaps ultimately, adults who fly off the handle without warning.

But a nagging sense that the conventional wisdom painted an overly hopeless picture prompted Willem Frankenhuis and Carolina de Weerth, of Radboud University in the Netherlands, to publish a well-cited review suggesting that the script could be flipped, or at least amended. Recent studies had shown that individuals who'd had chaotic childhoods exhibited an enhanced ability to detect and monitor threats and to recall negative events. Was it possible that, under the right conditions, kids from stressed environments would perform better than expected at efficient information gathering, assessing people's reputations, and other reasoning abilities?

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"Most of the research on young people from adverse environments focuses on what they're bad at," says JeanMarie Bianchi, of Wilson College. "Our goal has been to uncover the psychological strengths of this population, because we know very little about what they're good at."

Researchers who have pursued this work, like Vladas Griskevicius, now at the University of Minnesota Carlson School of Management, see the core question as a natural outgrowth of life history theory, which proposes that people structure their lives depending on their childhood environment. Broadly speaking, those who grow up in safe, predictable environments with adequate material resources tend to employ "slow" strategies—they study hard, delay gratification, put off marriage and reproduction, and generally follow the advice given to most middle- to upper-middle-class kids on how to stay on that course. Those who experience considerable upheaval early in life tend to employ "fast" strategies—for example, having sex earlier or becoming parents at a younger age. The fast strategist's "reward horizon" is shorter, and their future less assured; they will take a smaller immediate reward instead of a larger payoff later.

But instead of thinking in terms of whether a slow or fast life strategy is "good" or "bad," couldn't one think in terms of what was appropriately adaptive in each environment? A child growing up in a stable, loving home who is presented with a candy bar and told that if she waits a half hour, she can have two, would be wise to wait. But if her home is chaotic and her caregivers deliver only sporadically on their promises, it would be quite reasonable to take the candy bar while the getting is good. Grabbing what you can when it's in front of you in this context is not "impulsive" or "shortsighted," as those behaviors are typically—and disparagingly—labeled. It's strategic.

To assert that the latter behavior is adaptive is one thing; to say that a harsh or unpredictable childhood environment could yield objective future benefits is another.

Illustration by Gérard DuboisThe Upside of Unpredictability

To pursue the question of potential upsides of chaotic childhoods, Griskevicius and a team led by Chiraag Mittal focused on two elements of executive function: inhibitory control, or inhibition; and task switching, the ability to disengage from one task and pick up another. They hypothesized that people who grew up amid unpredictability would fare worse on measures of inhibition but better at task shifting, especially in situations that evoked elements of their childhood.

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They primed half of their subjects to think about instability by having them read an article titled "Tough Times Ahead: The New Economics of the 21st Century"; the other half read a text about a person looking for lost keys. In computer-based challenges routinely used to measure inhibition, people who grew up in unpredictable environments showed no significant difference from their peers under the control condition of having read the article about the keys. Primed with the article about economic uncertainty, however, they performed significantly worse.

The results were different when it came to task shifting: In the control condition, the two groups performed similarly. But in the uncertainty condition, those who experienced unpredictability in childhood outperformed their privileged peers—they were faster in shifting focus without a loss of accuracy.

Developmental psychologist Bruce Ellis of the University of Utah describes this trait as the ability to "unstick yourself," a type of cognitive flexibility that correlates positively with traits such as creativity. It may be that individuals raised in stressful environments have a greater willingness to leave something undone—a lack of perfectionism that helps them do what's necessary without dwelling on what could have been—compared with those raised in homes with the luxury of routinely expecting perfection.

"We are not in any way suggesting or implying that stressful childhoods are positive or good for people," Mittal and Griskevicius have insisted. Still, a closer look at the potential strengths of every individual, no matter his or her background, could help overturn stereotypes, both in the culture at large and in the minds of those who have grown up in uncertain environments that tend to foster self-doubt.

Kids who grow up feeling that nothing is under their control may turn into adults who don't particularly value feeling in control, but that could be an asset for those making their way in a treacherous economy. Consider Steve*, a New York-based software developer whose most vivid childhood memories of Christmas involve hiding under the couch in the basement to avoid getting caught in his parents' verbal crossfire. "They spent so much time fighting with each other that they did not have much energy left over to tend to us," he says. Steve recalls wanting to help around the house, but never being told what to do or, when he completed chores, whether he had done an adequate job. Around age 10, he started cutting his arm with a razor blade, hoping to get attention—to no avail.

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"Even during the good times there was a sense that you were on borrowed time and disaster was just around the corner," he says. "And it always was."

As an adult, though, Steve has proven to be highly flexible, with a willingness to take significant risks with little hesitation. He is sure that his upbringing has helped him through rough career patches. When facing big questions—where to work or how much to invest in a relationship—he has a high tolerance for ambiguity, for living in that in-between stage in which one does not know whether success or crushing failure awaits.

Evidence of other possible cognitive advantages is gradually emerging. Chiraag Mittal, now at Texas A&M, is looking into the effects of childhood environment on memory. His early findings indicate that people who grow up in unpredictable environments are better at what's known as working memory updating; they have the ability to forget information that is no longer relevant and to attend quickly to newer data that is.

Bianchi believes that growing up with stress may promote certain forms of associative learning—the ability to recognize that multiple elements of one's environment are connected in some way or that certain behaviors will be rewarded or punished in a given scenario. Growing up in an environment that's constantly in flux, she says, may make people "more aware of and responsive to changes in the environment." In the lab this means subjects may be quicker to perceive that they have been given wrong instructions to a computer game—and to change their behavior accordingly. "This would have profound implications," Bianchi says. It means that people who are used to being able to rely on rules and to trust instructions—such as those who grow up in more stable environments—may stick with the rules even in the face of negative results. Meanwhile, those from stressful backgrounds may be quicker to explore other possibilities and stumble upon novel solutions.

Illustration by Gérard DuboisSorting It Out

Stress is not one-dimensional, and while socioeconomic background is a factor in examining its effects, it is far from the only one. Clear childhood stressors such as divorce; domestic violence; physical, sexual, and emotional abuse; and the mental illness, alcoholism, or drug abuse of a household member are not limited to any one demographic. Growing up in poverty but with a stable family life poses different challenges than, say, being raised with the trappings of privilege but knowing that an otherwise indifferent parent's affection is contingent on how well you perform. Several cultural critics, surveying the state of the millennial generation, suggest that those within it who had upbringings high in parental praise but lacking in competition have too little experience with loss and may now lack confidence, resilience, and decisiveness.

The amount of stress one experiences in childhood also appears to be a factor in predicting future cognitive benefits. A pair of longitudinal studies by Mark Seery, of the University at Buffalo, found that people who reported experiencing moderate stress throughout their lives tended to score higher on measures of resilience (and were less likely to have chronic back pain) than those who reported either little stress or extreme stress.

The re-evaluation of stressed childhoods is part of a larger reconsideration of the mental and physical impact of stress. Of particular interest is the effect of norepinephrine, a chemical messenger that's triggered to help us pay attention when we notice something new, unexpected, or frightening. In moderate doses, it can be a "sort of wonder drug to the brain," says clinical psychologist and cognitive neuroscientist Ian Robertson, the author of The Stress Test. Norepinephrine helps the brain make new connections, with positive effects for both learning and memory. There is also something of a reinforcing loop between norepinephrine and IQ; the higher your IQ, the more norepinephrine is released when you're faced with a challenging problem.

This hormonal effect may help explain why those raised in tumult could be better and faster at assessing threats—for example, reading emotions or intent in other people's faces. There may a tipping point, however. Too much stress, Robertson says, can lead to excess norepinephrine production and an ensuing, cell-damaging flood of cortisol, which in excess can lead to vascular difficulties in midlife and is associated with early mortality.

"The effects of stressors depend on many factors," says Frankenhuis, now codirector of the Research Network on Adaptations to Childhood Stress at the University of Utah. Innate biological differences in temperament, driven by a combination of inherited genes, can promote profoundly different responses to similar upbringings and lead to starkly different adult outcomes even for individuals within the same family. Positive aspects of an otherwise highly stressful childhood can also blunt the effect, such as optimal nutrition or supportive extended family members. And the varied types of stress in tumultuous households—for example, acts of commission vs. those of omission—can affect children in different ways, Frankenhuis maintains. A slap in the face is not the same as a failure to console a crying child, though both have consequences.

Someone like Sarah, who grew up in a home inundated with persistent emotional stress and tension—conditions that emotional intelligence and acuity could potentially mitigate—may emerge with stronger, or different, cognitive benefits than someone raised in an environment where "blunt force" stressors like physical abuse could not be prepared for or dodged in any way.

Illustration by Gérard DuboisCrafting Happier Endings

Left alone with an abusive, paranoid schizophrenic mother for much of her childhood, Lillian*, 85, admits to being generally suspicious of people's intentions. But she is also extraordinarily willing and able to shift directions—her CV includes stints as an actress, portrait painter, theater professor, college dean, community organizer, and entrepreneur. Her husbands' careers required several moves, including an extended stay in Japan, forcing Lillian to routinely adjust her own professional goals. "I had no difficulty doing this," she says. "I counted on the permanence of nothing in my life except my ability to meet the challenge of change."

Greater knowledge of the cognitive adaptations that stressed kids like Lillian tend to make could lead to curricula and school environments more geared toward their strengths and attentional styles. Today, Ellis says, most interventions for kids identified by teachers or social workers as high-risk take their metaphorical inspiration from cats' claws—kids "come into school like a cat with its claws extended." And all efforts to help them are variations on "trying to get the cat to retract its claws—to be more trusting, to be more comfortable in school, to be more connected to the teacher." In other words, they are pushed to act more like kids from low-stress, low-risk environments. But reprogramming people is hard, he says, and educators could find it easier to work with children's adaptations rather than fighting them.

Tumultuous childhoods, as novelists and therapists have long known, can make for more complex and compelling characters. "People who haven't suffered are as interesting as shrubbery," says therapist Ian Morgan Cron. "With happy people," he half-jokes, "you think, Oh man, I can't get any purchase in this conversation with this person, because there are no cracks."

But Cron has seen in his practice how growing up in a culture steeped in negative assumptions about one's intelligence, temperament, and mental state can lead an individual to play out self-fulfilling prophecies: I'll never recover from what I went through. I didn't have the foundation you need to get the most out of life. Skeptical of their own prospects, such people might shy away from opportunities or get lost in the pain and bitterness of their experiences.

While a fuller understanding of the effects of chaotic beginnings gain societal traction, individuals who can learn to grapple with the stress of their past and overcome bleak views of their future can generate new hope. "We are the stories that we tell about ourselves," Cron says. "At group retreats, I ask people to turn to the person on their right and say, 'Would you please just tell your life story in five minutes, in which you appear as the victim?' When that's done, I say, 'Now turn to that same person and tell the same story from the perspective of you as the hero.' And they say, 'What? Is that allowed?' Well, sure.

"You have agency in this matter, even without revising history. It happened. We're not going to deny the facts," he says. "But the way we interpret history is up for grabs, and it can have a tremendous amount of healing power."

People who have already embraced every aspect of their past don't need convincing. "I'm not a denier, but rather a realist," says Lillian, who recently self-published her first novel. "I've learned to creatively change what can be changed and to live with what can't be altered. And I always turn to the fact that I'm still here and actively in the mix. I strongly believe that we all have so much more within us than we allow to develop. The possibilities are endless—not threatening."

*Names have been changed.

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