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sketchfanda · 5 years

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Rate the Champions

Based off of and inspired by @gale-of-the-nomads and @nerdasaurus1200 rate the akuma,for @beebeebombam Lady Fairy AU,or in this case,the blind butterfly girl herself and her champions. According to wha I’ve learned from posts in bee’s posts on the tag,many of the champions like Alya as Lady Wifi,Max as the Gamer,and Nate as Illuscreator aren’t all too different from canon in tems of their abilities and design. mostly just my way of giving some attention and notice to this AU,which for a guy like me who’s pretty recent into coming into this fandom,but coming to know enough,it’s a fun and sweet AU especially for the fact it gives poor Nooroo much better than what he’s got in canon.

serously,poor little guy,and this is like the only gif I ever find for him. So let’s begin with the blind butterfly princess herself

Marinette Dupain-Cheng,blind but as in canon,a girl with a big heart and a deep sense of empathy,wielder of the moth/butterfly Miraculous,Paris’ maker of heroes Lady Fairy

Design: A+ it really plays up th butterfly theme and motif,her mask being a blindfold is a very nice touch that serves to highlight and remind of her condition. The shades of purple and indigo work well to give a outfit that is as graceful,elegant and posied as the animal its based on and suits her name,coming off like a figure out of a fairy tale plus such glitter and sparkle

Powers: A,it’s the butterfly/moth brooch,as in canon it grants the wielder the ability to empower others and make them superheroes. Of course in this AU it’s made to be used as intended,unlike Gabriel’s selfish,wreckless evil purposes. Especially as unlike Hawkmoth,lady fairy serves more to focus on her champions’ positive emotions,guide them and motivate them rather than force control and obedience into being her puppets and twist and manipulate them at their lowest points. while it’s stated that the moth miraculous can utilise both positive and negative emotions,I feel focusing on the positive makes for a better contrast to how Hawkmoth always seeks out the negative. Bee of course adds a sweet touch to how the wielder can see through their chosen’s eyes,allowing the blind marinette to see the world she normally wouldn’t be able to due to her blindness,giviing her a growing appreciation and love for her city,her loved ones and the colours of life.

theme (As in their gimmick):A.the name,motif and design of the outfit all work together,making her seem like a figure from a court of nobility from a fairy tale

Effectiveness:A.when all seems grim,always know if you have a strong heart,this sweet soul will give you the means to do what’s right,because she believes in you. as a true butterfly wielder should.

Personal enjoyment: A I’ve seen maybe one or two,if not near half a dozen fanarts based on kwami swap with Mari as the butterfly miraculous wielder. This is my personal favourite of the bunch in terms of concept and design.

next we come to the villain of the story,grand iceking douchebag and shitty parent,the socially reclusive bastard Gabriel Aggreste,aka Le Paon,wilder of the peacock miraculous,which I assume isn’t as damaged as it is canon Design- A,very sinister and classy,but different and unique compared to his hawkmoth outfit,but just as enigmatic. has a somewhat sens of style and class to it,which makes sense given peacocks and their natural flamboyance and Gabriel’s status as a fashion designer

Powers- A.as in canon,the peacock brooch is similar but different to the buttefly in that rather than use someone’s emotions to empower them,it takes a partciular emotion they’re feeling and gives it a shape and form,granting the wielder a soldier they can command and control. making it range and very in terms of its shape and form. And unluckily,one needn’t be willing for gabriel to create a sentimonster,not that he cares,fitting given his self serving goal.

Theme- A,sinister yet classy looking individual,with an ability to enforce his will on others,much like he enforces and exerts control over his own’s son’s life. it’s one thing when hetting akumatised twisted you into being evil,but one can barely imagine the horror of being taken advantage of at your emotional low,watching as your anger,or sadness,etc are given the form of a monster that will tear all of paris apart to fulfill a mad man’s goals

Effectiveness - A. like in canon,gabriel is just hiding away,unseen by all of Paris as he keeps his sense tuned for someone at their emotional low,looking to control them much like how he controls his own son’s life. because what he believes in and thinks are right matter most,and for the ones he loves,or passes for love,all of Paris will suffer long as he gets what he wants

Personal enjoyment of the akuma-Be it the moth or the peacoc,Gabriel is as he will always be,a cold distant selfish man whose misguided sense of love and family will burn the world.

Nathalie Sancoeur,personal assistant to the villain himself,in this Au for the heroes day battle,wielder of the ladybug,which garbriel has in his possession. yes he’s halfway to this goal,which raises the stakes Design- A,similar but different to canon,a more villainouse edge thanks to the black sections,and seems to hide nathalie’s identity

Powers- A,it’s the ladybug miraculous,one can only shudder to think hw it works when not wielded by a non heroic wielder.

Theme- Unlike in canon,this is not a heroic ladybug. I’ts Nathalie doing what she thinks is right,which is helping her boss achieve his goals. not helping that she seems to love him and all

Effectiveness - hard to say as we will only see her once in the finale arc,but the ladybug miraculous on the side of devils? weep for paris

Personal enjoyment-n/a

Sabine Dupain-Cheng,Mari’s wonderful mama,aka Scilla Design- A,an elegant look and design that fits and suits the motfi of her daughter,fitting given what her powers in this form do.

Powers- A. simple but effective,she can boost and enhance others’ powers,in this case able to increase Mari’s Miraculous’ abilities as catalyst did with scarlet moth,enabling her to create multiple champions. from a lady to a queen fairy,now able to lead and command her warriors on the field of battle.

Theme- A,really plays to the sparkly classy fairy tale motif of her daughter

Reason for Akumatization-Aor championisation in this case,as bee establishes Sabine’s always known her daughter has been a hero,and given the situation in heroes’ day,how could she not want to help

Effectiveness as an akuma- A,the results speak for themselves

Personal enjoyment of the akuma-A,compared to Nathalie and Hawkmth,it’s a nice little take in reminding us how like in canon,Mari has a wonderfu bond with her parents.

Luka,Kagami,Rose and Juleka,aka Distorter,Riposte,Princess fragrance and Monster Witch

Design- A+,very more heroic takes or twists on Luka,Kagami and Rose’s canon designs,while Juleka’s is very suiting and fitting for her given her goth vibe and motif,with the eyees of coruse referencing Reflekta. makes sense esp as reflekta was more about standing out and getting attention.Rose’s and Luka’s looks are tweaked just enough to not seem like palette swaps whie Kagami’ is less silver samurai,more superheroic samurai knight

Powers- A,Riposte’s hardly needed changing or tweaking compared to her design.Distorter meanwhile is more about using sound as a weapon which can have some unique applications. Juleka’s abilities obviously needed an overhaul,as there would’ve been no way of making a heroic take on reflekta’s powers. here of course it’s more about a means of combatting a sentimonster that creates its own army,while Rose’s is more about helping out and aiding others,akin to healer type chars in rpgs and games like overwatch and team fortress 2

Theme- A,you got a heroic samurai magical girl,a disney princess with a perfume gun,a musician who can truly make music a weapon,and his perky goth sister witch,what’s not to love

Reason for Championization-can’t rate per se,but given this Au and the nature of th buttrfly,Marinette wouldn’t pick just anyone to be her champions

Effectiveness as a champion- A,chat is lucky to have this backup no doubt

Personal enjoyment of the champions-A,be it simle tweaks and overhaul of the designs,to whole new design and powersets,creative aspects like this are what I love about this AU

Nino,Alix,Sabrina,Ondine,Ivan,Mylene,aka Bubble Boy,Timestealer,vanisher,syren,stone warrior and braverator

Design- A,Nino’s is a very welcome change of pace compared to the sentient popsicle blowup clown doll from canon and play to his own personal music hobby,Alix’s is more heroic take on her canon form that still playsup the futuristic rollerblader,Sabrina and Ondine’s hardly needed much changing,though Ondine does have some tweaks here and there,like an additonal fish feature or accessories. Ivan’s livesup to the name,making for an opposing contrast as Stoneheart,while Mylene obviously needed something different,as Horrificator is likely more sentimonster material design wise.

Powers- A+,bubbler’s design was whack,but the powers as seen were definitely something,vanisher and syren’s hardly needed much adjusting either. Stone warrior of course,basically takes his stoneheart’s powers and applies them more to a heroic means.mylene’s of course is very suiting for her,an inverse to how horrificator gained more pwer and size from others’ fear of her,she takes others’ fear and inverts it into bravery.which as bee mentions,is very handy for heroes’ day. Alix’s powers of coruse,are more about taking someone’s speed to add to her own,rather than taking someones life to able to go back in time.

Theme- A,vanisher needn’t be said,but the rest are either simple but effective tweaks and adjustments on familiar designs,or something more original and memorable in its own right

Reason for Championzation-see above for previous champion pic set.

Effectiveness as champions- same as above

Personal enjoyment of the champions-same as above

Doll Angel,the Lady fairy Au’s equiv to the Collector,combining aspect of the Puppeteer akuma.

Design- A,it plays to the same soft color palette and elegant classy fairy tale design of Mari’s outfit as Lady Fairy,minus the butterfly motif. Which makes sense of course as the goal of this form is throw off any traces or connection to her secret identity. The wand of course adds to the theme,and like with her lady fairy outfit,the masks adds a nice hint of mystery and highlights as a reminder of her blindness in this au. Given this is her equivalent to collector,it does the job.

Powers- A. As bee states,it’s similar but different to puppeteer,as well as her miraculous powers. It has the personal touch of utilizing a set of items that are very personal to Mari,in many ways representing how much she cherishes and values the friends in her life,many of whom have been made her champions,so unlike puppeteer it doesn’t force them into their forms and be controlled by her. But rather uses the dolls themselves,who serve as her sort of,rpg companion team. The detail of being able to see brought her dolls’ eyes serves a nice callback to how as lady fairy she sees through her champions eyes

Theme- A,as mentioned in design,it plays to the fairy tale motif,but like collector it’s different enough 8n terms of ability and design in throwing off the fact she is the butterfly miraculous wielder.

Reason-A,obviously as well as helping out her favourite cat,the reason for making herself a champion is key to throwing off that feathered bastard off of her scent. After what Gabriel pulled in canon as the collector,what’s good for the goose and all…

Effectiveness - A. Like with the collector,it clearly serves its goal and purpose.

Personal enjoyment of the champion-A+ the sweetest design for the sweetest girl in all of Paris.

#miraculous #lady fairy au #lady fairy #butterfly marinette #butterfly!marinette #kwami swap #nooroo #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #beebombam

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prince-toffee · 3 years

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Battle of the Bands.

I’ve seen a thumbnail of this ep.

Yeah guys again, you’re over reacting, it was only one time. Shesh.

Massage Train sounds... awfully personal

Alright let’s rock out.

Sasha and the Sharps??? There’s Sash needing to assert herself as the main focus again.

‘Why is everything you say is so agro.’

Wally!!!!

‘All shall tremble at my performance... hehehehe’ I love Grime. I. Love. Grime. He and Sasha def have the same vibe.

Toady is slowly loosing it.

GASP Is it the intro song????

Ah it’s not, maaaan, missed opportunity.

‘Tiny’ Notes.

That’s- that’s not collaboration

Ah, see what happened there? We went back full circle. No process was made with Sasha. She suggested that Anne and Marcy should do their thing alone while she goes off to gain power somewhere else, that’s the trios entire plot in five seconds. Sasha isn’t an easy to redeem character because not only is she kind of a shitty person to being with, she doesn’t want to change, she said so herself, she doesn’t want to be saved as showcased by literally letting go of Anne’s hand and falling to her death. She’s too proudful. She doesn’t want to be redeemed. Because she enjoys manipulating people, spreading her control, she likes being bad.

(If you’ll away me to rant for a little bit, with other redeemable villains, usually how their redemption starts is with the character admitting they don’t want to be the evil. Zuko didn’t want to, I don’t know burn the surface of the earth and be the king of hell, he was just a kid looking for approval from an abuser.

Even Catra, tho incomparable to Zuko, she was having a mental breakdown and her crippling loneliness and desire for approval lead to her illness escalating, inexcusable, but the thing about Catra was no matter how much power she gained, no matter how high in the ranks she climbed she always felt empty, power meant nothing to her. She didn’t want power and to be evil, she just wanted someone’s love, as selfish as it was, I wouldn’t say she enjoyed herself when in power. She just kept gaining power to survive, to protect herself from feeling weakness.

Whereas Sasha seems to really enjoy control and authority, she seeks the spotlight where ever she goes. When she let’s go of Anne’s hand, she refuses to change for her, because she’s too damn stubborn, because she’d rather die than admit that she’s wrong. When Grime catches her and saves her from death she sees that as a new purpose, she can’t control Anne anymore so now the whole Toad army might work out. Instead of admitting, genuinely, to Anne that she was wrong and not as important as she thought she was, she doesn’t apologise, genuinely, she leaves to cause the same trouble somewhere else. It doesn’t matter that she’s not doing it to Anne and Marcy now, she’s doing the same garbage to someone else. The evil isn’t undone, it’s simply relocated, the good doesn’t win over evil, because evil is tormenting someone else over there. And I feel like Anne being the heart that puts everyone else in front of her can’t stand for that.

So even if Sasha says ‘I’ll go away so I don’t trouble or hurt you, I’ll do my thing over there’ that doesn’t matter because Anne will follow and try to stop Sasha. Try to change her. And then Sash will, in turn, resist her. Leading a Toad ‘rebellion’ themeing. Sort of like an immovable object, that being Anne’s heart, mortality, and call to action in defence of others, against the unstoppable force, that being Sasha’s resistance to change, her headstrong attitude, self-centred obsession, and enjoyment of control, all enhanced by her biggest strength persistence.... Anyway, this was longer than I expected, back to the show.)

All alone again huh Sasha?

Toady, of course.

Look at that, learning.

‘This is gonna hurt.’

‘Don’t sassy me Gooselily.’

They’re adorable.

I love them so much.

Oh Grime.

Serenity of Nature.

3 Hours Later.

Aw finale goodbyes.

This is so sad, and sweet.

Ah they’re heading off to Newtopia, so the finale episode is going to reveal Sasha’s ‘True Colours’.

#amphibia #amphibia spoilers #amphibia season 2

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sainadazai · 3 years

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When your crush is angry all the time

Ch.4

I wanna be an intern too, you ragedy ann looking ass hoe 😠

Y/n pov

°•○●○•°•○●○•°

All goes well when you are ignorant is what my dear best friend would say to me now, as I sit in the very back of the class unfocused on how our teacher is introducing an activity I have no chance of participating in. All I knew was that when Mr. Aizawa walked up to the board and wrote names of people getting offers, I wasn't one of them. Not that I expected to be, considering I wasn't in the sports festival, let alone the school at all back then.

However, I did notice a small inconsistency in the order of the most offers. I was pretty sure that boom boom had gotten first place in the festival, him being there is what convinced me to transfer, but his name was actually second on the board.

Todoroki had taken the place of first as far as offers were concerned. Todoroki the nice boy who I used to meet when I snuck away from my fucking prison cell. Call me privileged for complaining about living in a mansion All my life, but I much prefer being here. With common folk. They ground me.

I peeked up from my phone at the red and white head of hair in front of me, he didn't seem all that fazed. Although maybe it was just the lack of seeing his face that made me believe he couldn't care less about all but one of those offers. Still, his business is his, and my business is the new Ao3 update on my favorite chrollo lucilfer fanfiction. What a babe.

I decided that the class as of right now would be of no importance to me, considering I will have no offers, and bakugou-the reason I came here- hates me like I'm a piece of gum stuck under his shoe. Through that conclusion I allowed myself to dissolve into the world of hxh and forget about how boring this world is.

Could my power beat Killua or go in a fight? I mean, it doesn't enhance my strength like they did trying to get into Killua's house so physically they must be stronger.

"Y/n! Is there something you would like to share with the class?"

Mr.Aizawas voice seemed almost shot at me as my gaze rose from my phone in my lap to meet him at the front of the room. He looked displeased to say the least. Well good for him, im displeased too, I might not be able to beat a fucking twelve year old in combat.

"Huh?"

"You were grumbling, what's so important you had to tell us, hm?"

I thought it through for a second- just kidding, I never think anything through.

"Oh, well I wasn't sure if I could beat Gon in a fight, but I'm not coming to the realization that if Chrollo is my boyfriend, I shouldn't have to fight anyone at all. I can just be a pretty face in the backgrounds and then after he wins for me i'll suck his-"

"Enough, y/n." Mr.Aizawa no longer held a tired looking face, his eyes were wide and an uncomfortable cringed was set on his face. As I peered at the rest of the class many also had shocked eyes, but unlike our teacher, held faint blushes.

Minus midoriya, his face was completely red and his eyes void of life. I must've killed him, huh.

"Wait!"

In an attempt to regain some dignity, I tried to correct myself.

"I would....not suck his-?"

"Don't even say it, shitty princess !"

"Woah bakugou, you spoke to me on purpose!?"

"Shut up!"

"Hey, how come you call me princess, you like me or something?"

He growled at that, neither of us paying mind to the fact that everyone in the class was either dead from nosebleeds or extremely uncomfortable and staring at us.

"Its cuz you act fucking entitled like a princess"

"I'll be your pillow princes-"

"Enough!" A robotic-like hand sliced the air in front of me. The voice sounded firm, almost more teacher-like than our teacher's voice. I followed my gaze up the hand, not failing to notice how as I drew up the guy's arm his muscles only seemed to get bigger and bigger and- iida?

"Oh class rep-"

"Y/n this vulgar language and border-line harassment needs to cease immediately. I will not tolerante overtly sexual language and acts in this class-"

As he was speaking I noticed something ironic about the situation. If everyone here didn't like sexual jokes or banter, how were they so flustered at comments that objectively should be unknown to them.

"How did you know what I meant, iida?" I rasped in a low sultry voice, allowing my fingers to dance up his arm starting at the wrist in front of my face.

I heard a few chuckles from, who I would say are the only two people enjoying this situation: kaminari and...stinky mineta. Iida's face grew more red than previously and the arms in front of me began shaking.

"Mr.Aizawa it seems I've disarmed the robot. Is there a restart button or something?" I question with a serious face using the search as an excuse to wonder my eyes all over his body. Perverted? Yes. Rightfully attracted to this giant hunk of a nerd. Yes ×10.

"No, there is not." Todoroki, who was in front of me, finally turned around to address me. I guess he was unfazed by my words. Looks like someone here can be cool. Whether he is okay because he is more comfortable with sexual jokes, or because he has yet to pick up on them, its nice that somebody in here can still function. Otherwise, I'd feel like a nuisance.

"Y/n I'm not really sure how to- let's just say to have detention with your m- midnight. Detention. Yeah." Aizawa publicly convinced himself of my punishment?

"Okay"

"Now, back to this, even if you didn't get any offers ALL of you will have an internship"

And so went on the class, kids chose their hero names, not me though. I wasn't even sure I wanted to be a hero at all, this was just a little less boring and sad than the way I lived before. This school had people who laughed in joy, not just to mask the pain. That was the real benefit, not being a hero, or being strong. Likely no one here realized that there were many places where none of this joy was possible.

Some of the kids in class gave me suggestions for a hero name, but I didn't like them anyway. They lacked personality, and while I have many adjectives to describe my personality, my life, none of them are all that heroic.

"Dark element"

"Girl who will die if her quirk doesnt like its environment"

See, I'm not the best at this. Even bakugan names had some sense to it...well no. I'd say we're about the same, but still. Ugh.

~timeskip~

Bakugou pov 😠

She came up with no hero names. Fucking entitled brat. Everyone at this lunch table seems to have no problem with the fact that she is here, just happy to have another pair of tits to stare at like perverts. Their gross. I bet she doesn't even want to be a hero, she sure as hell doesn't act like it. We don't even know what her whole quirk is. Ive seen her do that plant shit a couple times, fucking with flowers or whatever. Still, there's more to it. Something we don't know, at least. Cuz in the middle of class she gets up and whispers to Aizawa and he just lets her go. Where the fuck does she go?

Interrupts class, got into the school because her moms a teacher, won't use her quirk. What a nuisance, I can't believe she is not expelled yet. Plus those bullshit sex jokes are so shitty. She is obviously faking something when she does them. Not like midnight, who always at least seems like she means that gross shit.

"Hey, who did you guys choose for your internship? I haven't chosen yet."

"The number three hero guy," I spoke, knowing I'm the only person here who already chose.

"Really? Best jeanist! That's so cool, but are you sure that for you bakugou?" Shitty hair raised a shitty brow at me.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean!?"

"Just that he seems pretty...uptight..for you?" Dunceface added, but he spoke like it was a question. Of course he is the hero for me, he is the highest ranting hero on my list. If I wanna be number one, I gotta train with the best.

If I go to his agency I'm sure there will be a lot more action, since he is so high ranking. Then i'll get some real experience kicking villain ass, well, other than the USJ.

"Of course he is the right option!"

"Woahhh~"

Shit. It's her voice. I honestly should applaud her for using it less often around me but, how can one small girl be so goddamn annoying. I don't even know what she has to say and I already wish she would just put a sock in it. How can someone so entitled like her, probably never had to lift a finger, walk over here and talk like she has something to say.

"You're working with the best jeanist! So cool, one time he saved me from a group of rapist guys, it was awesome with all these strings everywhere and I could only see half of his face. Oh and he had goofy hair too!"

Oh. I didn't really know how to respond to the girl who looked so excited about almost being violated. Another thing wrong with her? I looked back at the other people at the table to see if they knew how to respond to something like that.

Dunceface was frozen, tape arms were frozen, shitty hair was frozen, and alíen eyes were looking like a lost puppy and trying not to cry.

It didnt seem like the shutty princess was exactly understanding how what she just yelled was making things weird. She just stood there expectantly. She kinda looked like she thought being raped was something that must happen to everyone. Did she think that? Wouldn't put it past her weird ass.

"Uhm...anyways, i'm sure you'll do awesome, he likes to put boys in tight jeans. Wish I could intern too, I'd love to see that boom boom~" she winked.

A perverted joke...and then she had the audacity to wink at me.

"You wish you could see me in tight jeans, shitty extra!"

"I know...thats what a I just said." She dead panned, blinking a couple times at me.

"Tch, screw you!"

"I would-"

"Can it, i don't wanna hear your shitty voice anymore"

The girl stopped herself after my words, pushing all her hair behind her head, except for the two blond stands in the front.

(You don't have to acknowledge these if you don't want, but I made it so that they change color depending on what element your using and I thought it was hot*if you have short hair, then you just got a lil nishinoya type thing 🥰)

Lifted her obnoxious hands that moved around while she talked and made a zipper-like motion over her lips. Then she just stood there looking at me. I really wanted to just let her stand there and go back to eating. Ignore her completely and let her hope fizzle out and die or something like that.

Yet here I am, still looking at her. Silently. Wishing she made a stupid joke so that I could stop flickering between those images I'd seen of her dancing. How even though ballet is a princess fucking dance, the pictures felt nice. Like if I was watching it live I would probably be unable to criticize it. That pissed me off, because I want to hate everything about her, but I can't hate those photos. Where she looks like she is flying, without any need for a quirk.

I see her in that weird gown, and now, in the UA uniform. I see her looking respectable, formal, and serious. Then I see her stupid little smirk as she takes pride in being able to shut up for more than a minute.

"Why are you still standing there?"

Instead of answering, she took her hand up again, made a pinch with her fingers and unzipped her mouth.

"I was enjoying the look in your eyes."she smiled.

The look in my eyes? Could she tell I was seeing two different people? What the hell does that even mean? Even said it without that shitty flirt voice. Like she meant it.

"You tryna make fun of me?"I stood up from the table to get in her face.

"Not right now, maybe later, I gotta do something." She smiled sincerely at me, for a second as she walked away, I forgot about how this conversation started. What a wierd fucking girl. I'll never respect her as a hero. Tch. (Yes, its canon he tchs even in his thoughts)

3rd person POV

Y/n briskly walked out of the cafeteria with a new goal in mind. She would come to remember how maybe being oblivious was a benefit in some ways, but for now, she had a clear plan .

"Mr.Aizawa, let me do an internship."

"You weren't in the festival, I can't just hand you to a hero who has no idea what you can do, y/n."

"Well, you know what I can do, right?"

"No. I'm not doing internships. Stop asking."

"That's not what I meant! You can just tell them, or I could, it's not that hard to explain. Just say i'm all- powerful or some play on words like 'she's got all the right elements' hehe, see how i mimicked your voice there?" Y/n grinned like a child. She was proud of herself.

"No. Still not happening."

"I wanna be an intern too, you raggedy ann looking ass hoe"

"Y/n, it doesn't make sense, insulting me to get what you want?"

"Maybe it doesn't, but I bet you feel real insecure about your hair right now."

"You already have detention, what more do you want!"

"An internship, I wanna do one with kamui Woods, I have a good reason, too. As far as my quirk control, i'm the weakest with earth, the aspect that allows me to grow and manipulate plants and stuff. That's why I've only been using that part of it all month. Im trying to get her up to speed so I can start using all four at once. He is like a tres guy, right? He manipulates earth all day long. He could teach me a lot, and that aspect of my quirk would suit his well. Please!?!?!?"

If the girl had just asked again in a normal way, his answer would have been the same. However Aizawa was taken aback to hear how much thought she put into this. From the stories of the teachers lounge, he came to understand her big life goal, was to rely fully on a rich man or woman, and do nothing at all forever. Just to try and forget about the terrible life she was destined to have because of that quirk.

This side of her was something he could not even her mother had seen, and it prompted him to speak those words she wanted to hear so badly.

"Fine."

#bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakusquad #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fluff #mha fanfiction #mha fluff

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bigdrchief · 3 years

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I... Am Cape Kuroto Dan - Enter the Next World (Worm/Kamen Rider)

The multiverse was a place full of life and wonder, each universe holding their own defenders of justice.

A world of pirates who fight against an evil empire.

A world of warriors who fight in an everlasting mirror world.

A world of magicians who use the power of courage.

A world of doctors and games fighting against the Bugster virus.

That last world sounds interesting, doesn't it? Not exactly a common combination, doctors and games, but there are certainly connections between them.

In that world, there existed a mad genius who created a game capable of changing the world, for the purposes of showcasing his own genius. He would fight against the "protagonists" to create a game capable of granting immortality, and would soon form a alliance with them to prevent his father from destroying any chances of stopping the Bugster virus (and in turn his game). After these events, the mad genius would continue his work, eventually succeeding in his goal of a game capable of resurrecting the fallen, but would soon finally face his end. A dangerous and insane foe, comparable to a cockroach in a mech suit, he is an enigma in its most chaotic form.

For a while, it was presumed that this mad man had finally died, no more continues left for the so-called god. But as he has shown time and time again, he will continue appearing in worlds using as many 'continues' as needed for the sake of his goals.

Of course, all of this did not matter for the inactive Vassal Manager, a Shard that used to work for Eden but was now waiting for a potential candidate to connect to. Its mastery over hard-light projections, in human terms, was what gave the Entities their forms that they would use when interacting with civilizations. With Eden currently offline, however, the Shard was left to its own devices, forced to wait for somebody to meet its requirements in order to connect once more to the Shard Network.

While currently calculating the best type of 'power' to distribute, it felt something poking and prodding at its network ports. It was clearly attempting to hack into its interface, which while somewhat surprising, would ultimately prove to be a futile gesture.

To the Shard's alarm, however, as it attempted to deconstruct the invader, it soon quickly spread across the various connections it had. No matter what guards the Shard placed, the virus was somehow able to circumvent it.

The Shard began to panic as it attempted to preserve its data in a last resort, only for the virus to begin quickly consuming it just as quickly, corrupting anything it came across. Its functions fading fast, the Shard was unable to put up a resistance against the virus, and slowly felt itself succumbing to it.

The last thought the Shard had before it fully degraded was not one it would normally think, but was indeed a result of the virus that had infected it. Those two words?

GAME OVER

*Line Skip*

5 weeks later...

The Merchants were currently on the run from the Heroes, having successfully made it off with various bags of money, most likely to use to buy some drugs (AGAIN)!

Armsmaster was gaining some leeway on the group, but Skidmark had decided to be a colossal dick and had Squealer configure a bunch of auto-turrets of sorts on their getaway vehicle, which was currently firing multiple rounds that Armsmaster was forced to dodge and serve through.

Skidmark grinned as he quickly rifled through the cash he had gathered, already calculating the amount of drugs he intends on buying and then selling to the poor sops of the city. WIth this much cash, they could probably make triple the amount of money then the usual amount they scam off of the losers of Brockton Bay. At this rate, they'll be rich in no time!

Armsmaster brings out his halberd, and attempts to fire a grappling hook at them, possibly in some sort of attempt to try and slow them down, but Skidmark quickly redirects it to a nearby lamp post, causing it to latch onto the steel pole and forcing Armsmaster to slow down temporarily in order to quickly unattach the hook.

Skidmark grinned viciously at this clear victory, and turned to count the money once more. Had he paid a bit more attention, he would have noticed Armsmaster radioing in information, presumably to other Protectorate Heroes. For now, however, he was more focused on how to make use of his money to profit.

It was quite unfortunate then, that something proceeded to slam into the car, causing it to stop much to Skidmark's irritation.

"What the fuck, Squealer?! Why the fuck aren't we moving!?"

"I-I don't know, so shut up and let me fucking fix this!" Squealer yelled out in anger as she pressed the gas pedal in an attempt to make it move to no avail.

Already aggravated at how this clear chance of victory was cut short, Skidmark imploded when he heard somebody chuckling at their misfortune. Jumping out of the vehicle, gun in hand, he growled as he quickly surveyed the area.

"Who the fuck is laughing at us!?" he yells out. "Come on out you little shit! Or are you too chicken and would rather cry to your mommy?!"

He let out a vicious grin when the perpetrator finally revealed themselves, appearing from a nearby alleyway.

It was some guy in cosplay, wearing some sort of purple and black suit with white highlights and white leg armor. The person wore purple shoes and purple shoulder pads, alongside purple cuffs, and some weird green machine thingie on their waist with a purple object inserted in it. On their chest was some weird armor, with four colored buttons on the left side of the armor and some sort of gauge on the left. The helmet was the weirdest part, however, as it had some spiky black hair and a weird white-edge visor with red cartoon eyes printed on it.

Skidmark and his fellow Merchants laughed at the fool. If this person was a Cape, they sure were a horrendous one! Who even wears something like that anyway?

"-HAHAHAHAHA! I can't believe you're wearing something that shitty-looking!" Skidmark said, pointing his gun at the figure. "So how about you go and die or something and let the big boys work, huh?"

Skidmark fired, then grunted when the bullet barely grazed the armor. Of course it couldn't be that easy, could it? The Parahuman was clearly a Tinker of sorts. Whatever, they could still take the asshat down.

As his men prepared his weapons (and Squealer finally getting the car to work again), the Cape finally spoke up.

"It appears that the beta testing has started." he spoke calmly, but with this bizarre tenseness mixed with an underlying chaotic energy that just screamed danger to Skidmark. Unfortunately, he makes love with drugs, and so he grabbed the mental warning sign and threw it at the Cape in rage and confusion.

"What the fuck are you talking about!?"

"I'm saying that pests like you aren't even worth the full use of my capabilities." the Cape continued, raising his hands in a grandiose manner. "Your sole purpose is to help with the calibration of this vessel, to ensure that it is functioning properly for use in this backwards planet."

"I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about." Skidmark flatly replied.

"You needn't need to remember. Once I'm done with you, the only thing you'll need to remember is your crushing defeat at my hands, Genm's hands." Genm said arrogantly.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER!!" Skidmark exploded, his fragile pride unable to handle Genm's remarks, and throwing his gun at the Cape in rage, he used his power to overlay multiple layers on the gun, causing it to slam into the Cape at in intense speed, letting out a small explosion due to the few bullets still remaining inside. To his ever-growing frustration, Genm remained unharmed by the attack.

"HAHAHAHA!" he laughed at Skidmark's efforts. "Was that all you could do? I think it's time that I show you how a real CEO does it. I can easily crush you all, even if I have to use continues!"

Quickly rushing towards the group, Skidmark's underlings quickly fired onto the Cape, the bullets failing to slow him down. Genm quickly ran up to the group of goons and smash his fist into one of the goon's faces, slamming the poor fellow into the ground before quickly roundhouse kicking another goon. Genm then threw a few punches at a goon stupid enough to attempt to bash their gun on Genm, before swinging said goon around and throwing them into the crowd.

As the vehicle's engine purred, Genm turned towards the capes before raising his hand up.

"G̵̖̩̳͊̀̊A̷̻͊Ş̶̙̔̏̐̋̈̍͝Ȟ̵̢̜̙̪͈̯̓̓̄Á̷̝͇͉͙͎̈́Ć̸̦̾O̶̧̘͛͋̔͗N̴̘̝̳̜̖̼̦̅̈͠ ̷̢̣̯͓͊̓͌̽͐͘S̵̗̒͒W̶̛͓͇̳̰̍̈́̋͛̑Ó̸̹͉͇̪͔̑͐͊͜Ŕ̸̤̼̲̾͂̈̉͌̀ͅD̷̫̜͛̀̐̆̂̍͘!̴̨̗̖̩̟͊͌̓̽̚"

A distorted voice resounded in the area as dark violet pixels manifested around Genm's hand, before dispersing to reveal a simple sword with a silver hilt, a blue crossguard with a red A button and blue B button, and a red flaming serrated blade.

As Genm approached the Capes, Mush finally decided to intervene, using the various rubble that make up his body and flinging them towards the Cape, Skidmark enhancing the projectiles and causing them to move at speeds fast enough to be set on fire towards Genm. Genm simply swung the sword side to side, easily destroying the rubble that was flung at him.

Realizing that maybe this was a waste of time, Skidmark quickly jumped back into the vehicle and yelled at Squealer. "Step on it, ya bitch! Hurry up!"

"I'm fucking doing that assshole!" Squealer replied.

"Ko Chīn!"

However, just as the vehicle began backing up, the vehicle just as quickly stopped. As a confused Squealer tries the pedal once more, Skidmark looks over the car and sees to his shock ice had formed on the car's wheels, slowly inching upward like a caterpillar on a plant. Looking back at the cape, he saw the armored Tinker had stabbed the now cyan colored sword into the ground, freezing the area.

As the figure walked towards them, Skidmark grabbed a nearby machine gun that was stashed in the car earlier, and in a fit of desperation began firing the bullets at the Cape, using his power to enhance the power of the bullets. The bullets merely grazed the figure, and as the Cape began sprinting towards him, for a second Skidmark feared that he may have misjudged his victory.

A truck suddenly slammed into the figure from the side, slamming the Cape into a nearby building. Acting instinctively, Skidmark used his powers on the vehicle, enhancing its velocity enough that when it slammed into the nearby wall, it exploded. As the fire slowly receded, Skidmark saw Mush slowly moving away from a nearby parking lot, and quickly deduced him to be the cause of the vehicle crash.

"...Hahaha, serves that bitch right! Did he really think he could stand up against us!?"

Skidmark let out a definitely not nervous laughter as he looked over the wreckage, seeing no sign of the Cape moving. A pity, it seems like they killed the Tinker. Then again, if he had died from a mere explosion, than would he have been a good asset to them.

"Merchants. Cease and desist immediately."

Skidmark turned around, and growled when he the miltary hero pointing a gatling gun at him. Miss Militia, a Cape that Skidmark never really liked. If she was here, than the other Protectorate Capes would not be too far off.

"*Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep*"

"Come on Squealer!" he barked to the Tinker. "Hurry the fuck up and get us out of here!"

"*Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep*"

Squealer quickly nodded, but paused to Skidmark's confusion.

"*Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep*"

"Squealer, what the fuck are you doing!?" Skidmark yelled, only to freeze when he began hearing the noise she had.

"*Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep*"

Suddenly, a purple warp pipe with the word "CONTINUE" in rainbow colors appeared from the ground, and from it ascended to the Capes shock Genm, unharmed and untouched by the explosion earlier.

"*Doot-doodoo-doot-doodoot!*"

A small jingle played as the Tinker slowly stepped out of the pipe and onto the ground, cracking his neck as he stared at Skidmark. At that moment, he was pretty sure that were it not for the mask, he would've seen the stupid ass Cape smirking at his confusion.

"What the-!? How the fuck did you survive!? You were fucking blown up, you piece of shit!?!?" Skidmark yelled in confusion.

Genm simply shook his head as he removed the strange purple device from the green machine attacked on his waist, the machine letting out a "Gashun!" as a holographic indicator appeared beside the Tinker, displaying the words "GENM Life Points" and a red heart with the number 99 inside it.

"As I said, you are merely the beta test to my vessal's abilities. And one of those abilities includes the ability to 'respawn' after death." he explained pointing a finger up, as the number went down to 98. "You've managed to kill 1 of just 99 lives, which is definitely impressive for scum like you."

"Ni-Ninety-nine!?" Skidmark said in shock.

"Didn't you hear me earlier?" Genm remarked as he began spinning the violet device around. "I'll clear this game, even if I have to use continues!" He then proceeded to slam the device into some sort of holster on his right side before pressing a button.

"Kimewaza! MIGHTY CRITICAL STRIKE!"

Purple and blue energy slowly began to form around Genm's right leg as he slowly walked towards the dazed Merchants, the walk slowly turning into a dash as the Cape ran towards the Merchants. In a panic, Skidmark attempts to jump ship, quickly exiting the vehicle, but at that point it was too late. Genm threw a roundhouse kick at the vehicle, striking at the engine and causing the entire vehicle to explore in an orange glitchy fiery explosion. The various drugged Capes flung across the floor, shrapnel flying and striking them in their limbs, giving them wounds and intense pains throughout their bodies, while Genm simply stood there unharmed.

Smoke eventually filled the area, and Miss Militia whom had been watching the whole thing in shock, quickly comes onto the scene in an attempt to reach the new Cape that had devastated the Merchants. However, once the smoke faded away, the purple Tinker was gone, no trace of him ever being here except for the damage he had done to the Merchants.

As fellow Cape Armsmaster soon arrived on the scene, Miss Militia walked towards the wreckage of the truck to examine the area, most of the flames having now died out.

As she walked closer to the area, she noticed something poking out of the wreckage of the area. Morphing her weapon into a shovel, she used it to move away the rubble out, to reveal a charred body in the wreckage. Standing down next to it, there were no signs of there being any sort of modifications to the body, or of any sort of symptoms indicative of illnesses, so it was likely that the body was not trapped. Said body resembled a 30-year old Japanese man with a basic grey suit with a violet undershirt and black jeans with black dress shoes, the fire scarring most of his face.

While normally one would have marked this individual as dead, considering the Cape's remarks earlier, it was possible that he possessed some sort of Breaker like Alabaster with the ability to 'revive' himself a set amount of times, though this was merely speculation on her part.

"Report Miss Militia?" Armsmaster asked, having finished tying up the downed Merchants and currently waiting for the PRT Vans to arrive.

"A new Cape dubbed Genm had entered a scene, wearing some sort of violet armor." Miss Militia explained. "I've given him both a Tinker rating and a Breaker rating due to his ability to seemingly create a new body upon death, which the Parahuman has claimed to only occur a limited amount of times."

"Hmm... Any other possible information?"

"Yes, assuming this claim to be accurate," she continued as she pointed towards the wreckage, "then this body may possibly be indicative of his true appearance, though that's assuming any new body his power makes is a exact duplicate like in the case of Oni Lee. If this claim is true, then this may be troubling. While I am unsure of the Cape's standing, he possesses Tinkertech capable of altering the landscape and of knocking Parahumans unconscious with ease without needing to fatally damage them."

"Very well, I'll take this into consideration." Armsmaster said as he looked over the scene. As he did, he could not help but wonder as to what kind of genius would have been gifted with a Power such that they could not only create effective armor while evading capture for so long, if they were new, but with an ability to come back from the dead a set amount of times?

The mad genius grinned as his computer displayed the fine handiwork his Critical Strike had done to the Merchants, the Bugster virus slowly prorogating throughout their body.

A fitting end for such scum was the thought that ran through his head, though fortunately for them he had no intention of letting those Merchants die.

No, with his specialized 'finisher', the virus should reach a point in the near future where eventually the Bugsters will manifest from the bodies, which he can then use as test subjects to test his newly developed Gashats on.

Already, he had determined a candidate that he could have use the particular Gashat he was working on, "Beastmon GO". He grinned as he saw that his plan was coming to fruition.

This world, this Earth Bet... It was clear that without geniuses like him, the world has in a sense regressed to an era of strife and conflict, and that these Shards that fueled their powers have merely further enhanced the chaos of this world.

These so-called villains running amok, these so-called heroes failing in their duties to protect the people, it was clear that the planet needed a wake-up call.

Were he like any other Kamen Rider, then his main reason for doing this would be because its the right thing to do. Unfortunately, that wasn't it at all.

His only reason for helping this world was very simple really.

"As the one that will herald a new era," he said to himself, a constant reminder of his new quest. "I shall soon bring forth a new age of life, one that must be unhindered by these low-level players incapable of seeing the bigger picture. Once I rid this world of its filth, I can truly revolutionize it into a new era! That is the path chosen by I, DAN KUROTO"

#worm #kamen rider #dan kuroto #au #this is a horrible idea #cape kuroto dan

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arraley · 4 years

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Overhaul x fem!Reader Part One: Not only Heroes need attention

Welcome! Apparently you stumbled upon my very first FanFic EVER. Thank you very much for stopping by I appreciate it. As you can see, this is just Part One. This part ddoes not contain any smut... yet. In future parts there will defnitely hard smut going down but i got carried away with telling what´s going on. Please be easy on my language as english is not my mothertongue. Also for the convienience of my story Eri does basically NOT exist here. I know kinda shitty of me but I didn´t want to write strong Angst or about the child abuse. I love Overhaul though and think he is an incredible interesting villain and deserves more attention. I want to try to reflect him as good as I can and stay true to him but also be ablee to make him get a relationship with the reader at some point. So please enjoy this way too long introduction! Part Two will be started soon but will need time to come down. Constructive Criticsm would be amazing!

Warnings:

fem!Reader, Blood/gore, hospital themes, Bullying, sexual offence at work ( you have a disgusting coworker), sexist behaviour, villains and heroes, moral conflicts

Art: Fanart made by me

“It's just some smallfry villain, don´t worry about that and tend to my wounds first, I have to get back to my patrol soon, so hurry and get to your work.” the bearded man in front of you growled lowly and snapped his fingers right before your face loudly. His action made you wince for a mere second and your searching eyes found his intense stare. The heavy judgement in his dark blue eyes laid upon you, making you drop your chin, trying to avoid his gaze and rather looking at your comfy white sneakers as you started to gather the materials you needed for your work. Clamps, disinfectant spray, bandages, needle and thread, gloves for your and your patient's safety and so on. This was your everyday life and the thing you loved to do. Observing the human body and it's habits, treating sick and hurt people with everything you got no matter how desperate their situation is, tending to wounds, healing. Biology and chemistry, the way cells behave in a different environment and towards different substances, how they could change just by adding some other atoms. You chose this lifestyle early on in your life, loving to play nurse and doctor when you were a little kid. As a young child you had started reading medical texts already, looking at pictures of organs and the human body, it's in- and outside, that would disturb other children with the biggest interest, caring for other kids that hurt themselves on the playground when they fell during a play of catch without being afraid of blood. When you were a young teenager you practically devoured the knowledge in a rapid speed and soon the teachers couldn't answer your questions anymore. Skipping entire school years cause you were much more advanced than others you started asking well known Doctors difficult questions via EMail, writing to professors over the entire world just to quench your hunger for knowledge. In this period your brain might as well have been a sponge, soaking every bit of information up. Nothing could stop you from achieving your dream. And in a world filled to the brim with powers, a world ruled by villains and heroes, where everybody participated to the utmost and had their purpose, mostly well fitting to the Quirk they called their own it was not easy to stand out.

Well, somehow you managed though and here you were. In this clean hospital room, smelling strongly like desinfectives, with a grumpy hero and a villain that was barely conscious, who had obvious bruises and bleedings, who moaned and winced in pain, leaned against a wall which would not be the same snowhite as before, now stained with red blood and dirt. Obviously the bad guy was much worse hurt, maybe even in a critical condition considering his chest was rising and lowering in an unstable pattern. Yet, your duty was to heal the hero first, who had just a small cut on his lower arm that was barely bleeding. The priority is to keep those healthy who protect lives. They come first, they are the pier that keep society stable. It was the first harsh rule that got drilled into your head when you had started out in a hospital that specialized on treating people that were involved in the mess between good and evil. Here only Heroes, Villains and civilians that were caught in those battles and got hurt in the process were treated. It was not only one of the biggest institutions of its kind, also it's reputation was the best. Actually you were honored to have a job in this hospital considering your current situation.

Still, you could not just ignore the person in obvious pain behind you and you held back shortly before you started the first step of treatment on the hero's arm. The villain´s labored breathing gave you a splitting headache and your fingers trembled as old memories creeped up in the back of your mind and a cold shiver ran down your spine. Slowly exhaling through your nose you locked your (E/C) eyes with the hero's eyes in front of you again. “Excuse me Sir.” you stated in a polite and soft tone, your voice sounding oddly echoey in the room “I think this person over there needs the first aid much more than you right now and I ask you to hold out a little longer, please.” With that you turned on your heel and immediately bent down to help the small man on the ground, checking his pulse and vitals. The villain had small figure making his dirty and blood stained clothes seem slack on his body. His face being so contorted you were sure some bones were broken. Blood was running out of his nose constantly making the word concussion appear in your head right away. Though his entire body was shaking and his right arm looked awfully dislocated you carefully patted his shoulder trying to get his attention “Sir, it will be alright, I am gonna give you something against the pain and then check on your wounds, please tell me if you feel any deterioration of your current state. I need to check for internal bleeding and…” before you could continue the standard medical explanation to your patient a gigantic hand smashed brutally right next to your head against the wall. The force was so strong that the plaster fell partially off the wall and sank down like little snowflakes.

The vibration of the smash ran through all the walls of the room. In spite of the bad feeling that was rumbling in your stomach you turned your head carefully to the left, eyes travelling along the muscular arm until you could see the face of the furious hero. The dark blue eyes shined dangerously, the mustache of the man shaking along to the vibrations he had sent through the room. “A vibration quirk? Or just power enhancement?” it shot through your head before the hero opened his mouth: “How dare you little Missy? I am a hero and I just caught this villain as he tried to rob a general store. It's my right to get treated by you so I can continue saving people who obviously cannot help themselves. People that are weak… like you” he spat out the last words like venom and you could feel the heat radiating from him. Everything, his eyes, his pose, his tone was intimidating to your small figure.

Anyone else would have ducked their head and mumbled an humble apology, as the impressive hero tried to talk down to you and your unthankfulness. But you were not anyone. The older man couldn´t know that those words started an old fire that burned in your veins and neither of you would have expected that you´d glare right back at him and stating in a low but sarcastic tone:”Well, I like heroes like everyone, but only if they don´t cry about a little cut like certain people in this room and are obviously having violent tendencies. A general store you say? For that you hurt a person that much? A hero should be able to contain safety without going totally overboard, beating a person so much up. Shouldn´t you try to save villains as well and if it's just from themselves? Aren't they humans either? People that just lost their way? What do you know about this person, why he robbed this store? Do you know any of his reasons? And don´t tell me you had to break nearly every single of his bones to get him cuffed up. You just enjoyed beating him up didn't you? I am sure you did go extra hard on him after the press showed up right? Isn't that so? What a nice hero you are!” you snapped, ending your monologue pretty loudly and standing your ground in front of the hero. Shoulders were rising and falling with every heavy breath you took, fists clenched tightly, fingernails pressing into your palm until it hurt. Your legs were trembling of pure anger you felt rushing through your veins but as reality slowly settled back in for you as you looked him yet again straight in the surprised eyes, it came to you how rude you just had been, your own eyes widened and gasping loudly you put your quivering hands in front of your mouth keeping it shut tightly. Somehow you knew that you just really screwed it up.

Just one day later your worries became reality as your supervisor, nobody less than the boss of the clinic called you to his office. When you stepped in you could already feel the air being thick and heavy as the tall man with shiny grey hair, strict facial features and orange eyes fuming in anger. Sitting straight and neatly in his expensive leather chair and his hands laying next to each other on the table you felt like a lamb going willingly into the lion's cave signing it´s own fate. Gulping heavily you sat down on the small chair in front of his massive oak desk. Pressing your legs together and throwing your ankles over one another you pressed your palms together against your stomach looking at your hands. The knuckles slowly turning white from the pressure you put onto them. You hadn't looked him in the eyes once yet, since you had entered and screwed them shut now as he slapped his hand on the tabletop in front of him loudly making you shrink together on your chair like a schoolgirl about to get scolded. Well, the situation was very similar to be honest.

The boss was not necessarily a bad man but he ran the clinic and there was a lot of competition in Musutafu. Still he had managed to make the clinic one of the biggest ones of its kind and the reputation was great among heroes. All the bigger names, even some from the Top Ten, came there for regular check ups or after longlasting fights to get their wounds treated. Regularly the media tried to get glimpse of a hero or villains coming into the hospital. How he achieved it was clear: marketing, discipline, hard work and most importantly leading all the other doctors, who all wanted a piece of his cake, with an iron fist. That were the ingredients to his recipe of pure success. But now you had strayed from the given path and he did not take that well.

“I took you in cause I really thought you have potential Y/N.” he began with a low tone that was laced with his anger. “It's really rich of you that you apparently try to ruin the hard earned reputation of my clinic with your childish ideas and wishes. What is the first thing I had taught you myself? Care to repeat the very first thing I taught you after giving you the internship and possibility to work as a real doctor when nobody else was interested in a quirkless healer?” Because of his harsh words you couldn´t stop the tears that started building up. Yes, it was true you were quirkless. One of the rare 20% of the world population. But why was everyone just seeing that? You are only 19 and already finished your medical degree, an upcoming doctor. In fact you had the best grades of one of the best medical schools in Japan. You had been above those that had quirks that could close fleshwounds, stimulate nerves or excite the immune system of a person. But that had not stopped you from treating people and making great advances in biology coming up with great hypotheses that could change the view on the human body despite it having a quirk or not. Yet, barely anybody paid interest in you and your abilities and your behaviour was a problem too. Too nice, too empathic, too calm, not business enough. That was what the boss had tried to always get out of you since you started one and a half year ago and this was already the second time you slipped. The first time had been a similar inconvenience where you denied treatment to a proclaimed local hero you had judged as too harsh in their behaviour towards law breakers. If you couldn't convince your boss now he would get rid of you and then it was over for you. But that also meant to betray your ideals and hopes…

“We...I-i… Heroes come first.” you gulped out and saying this turned your stomach around and made you feel sick. He hummed in appreciation of you remembering his lectures and his fingers drummed on the table. Something he would do when he was nervous or in thought. “Very right little One. Listen Y/N. I like you and your abilities. For someone in your position you do a good job. I could start preaching now about how much nonsense your view on this matter is and what consequences your disobedient behaviour can have for you but I am sure you understand your place. This is the very last time I hear of any kind of incident like this. I will let every other doctor have an eye on you. One more slip of yours and you are out, understood?” he ended coldly and waited for your response. Standing up you bowed slightly and mumbled a ´Thank You Sir´ before leaving the room in a trancelike state. Outside of his room you steadied yourself against the wall and your breath came out in shaky bits. Just now you realized how much your body was truly trembling and the tears that stained your cheek. So close. You were so close to losing your job but some lucky star prevented it. No matter what would happen now, you could not allow your feelings to get the better of you anymore.

It was too dangerous for your future, the future you had tried to build up so desperately. You wanted to help people so badly, good or bad but if you would continue this you had no chance to make this a reality. Tightening your shoulders and standing up straight you breathed in and out several times and tried to slow down your fast beating heart by irrationally putting your hand on your sternum rubbing the skin slightly until it was a bit reddened.

As you didn´t want to linger around in front of your boss's office longer than necessary you walked slowly away from it, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your white doctor coat, your white sneakers squeaking a little bit on the light grey linoleum floor, while passing some of the room high windows that showed the wonderful skyline of the big city on this warm summer day. As the boss´s office was high up in the skyscraper like clinic you had an iconic overview over the metropole. The sky was colored in a beautiful bright blue, some white fluffy clouds and the sunshine rays reflected on several roofs of the city blinding the eyes of the viewer. Musutafu was full of life with hundreds of cars dashing through the streets, pedestrians rushing on the sidewalks and in between some cyclists. High above the scenery you could see a plane or helicopters flying through the sky like a bird. If you were lucky you could even see some winged heroes dash through the air like the current number two. Your eyes travelled down and you were faced with your own reflection in the glossy window. Looking at your reflection you could not really decide if you hated what you saw or were happy with it. Under your doctor's coat you wore the typical white pants and a pink shirt, indicating you were allowed to practice and take shifts on your own but were also still in training. You definitely were on the smaller side and your normally shoulder long (H/C) hair was tied together in a rather messy ponytail swinging behind your head with every motion. The roundly shaped face and soft features gave you a young and fresh look, your (E/C) eyes making you look incredibly friendly and slightly innocent behind the thick glasses you had to wear as your eyesight was ridiculously bad. Honestly it was as if mother fate decided that it was not unfair enough already that you hadn't been born like 80% of humanity´s population. Without the extra strong glasses you could barely see the outline of people and were absolutely helpless. The world was an absolute blur for your bare eyes. The thought made you blow up your cheeks a little giving your expression a cute pout. Nobody close by had a quirk that could heal your bad eyesight so far or they weren´t specified for your case in general. But it didn't matter, you just put it as another point on your to-find-a-cure-list of diseases and sickness in the world. Probably the only selfish thing you wanted to do in your life. Sighing you looked yourself in the eyes and palmed your cheek with the warmed up hand from your pocket facing your fate.

Yes, you would be a good one now and do everything as your boss told you to do, so you could achieve your goals.

Three weeks have passed since the “talk” you and your boss had and the situation had calmed down a bit but still wasn't necessarily pleasant for you. One of the doctor´s you really hated and couldn´t respect at all had his eyes on you like a hawk from now on. He never had taken you seriously anyway, making sexual advances towards you, telling you regularly to give up and just become a nice and passive little wife as that is all that you were good for. He made you sick to the core but you could do nothing to stop him as he was the shining star of the hospital and good friends with the boss. So you decided to just eat his unnecessary comments and silently compete with him. As your abilities were clearly superior and he knew it as well as you did, you assumed that this is where his insecure behaviour and belittling of you came from.

Because of this it was no surprise that, as you came out of the restroom after a short break in your night shift, you saw him leaning against the wall close by leisurely. His blonde hair was slickly tamed with shiny gel, his teeth were blinding white, the jawline sharp, his face and toned body like one of a greek god´s depiction. Many females in the hospital were dreaming about the pretty and charming doctor from a foreign country but you only got the bad kind of goosebumps when his striking blue eyes ogled you as if you belonged to him. You ignored his gaze blankly and tried to pass him, your head held high, but before you could he grabbed your wrist firmly and made you stop in your track. The smell of expensive aftershave surrounded you and the thick scent made you feel dizzy. Although you were normally a lovely and nice person, trying to accept everyone as they are, you could barely stand Trevor. You knew how it was to not be accepted by society and looked down at and he didn't make that situation any better for you. Unwillingly you looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, tugging your wrist back as a silent request to leave you alone. His wolfish grin only grew wider and his grab on your wrist strengthened nearly painfully. You were pretty sure you´d find a bruise the next day on the same spot.

“Well, hello there pretty child. Still pretending to be a doctor I see? When will you finally give this up and date me? You'd make a pretty pretty little maid for me (Y/N). Why don´t you finally realize submission is a release for someone like you?” he cooed into your ear leaning uncomfortably close into your private zone. The degradation coming with his words made your blood rush into your ears and you gritted your teeth violently. You could feel your own pulse fastening rapidly and the acid in your stomach rise up from poor anger. Yes, you really tried to be accepting and you had taken a lot of bullying in your life already, let alone for being quirkless. But his words stung worse than a hornet´s bite. And yet you couldn't fight him back as you feared the consequences. Being on thin ice already it was basically impossible to do anything against him as he could doom you easily. Also it was rough for you to blow a fuse. Being loud or putting people into their place was not necessarily your strongest trait. On rare occasions you suddenly had the courage to stand up, like two weeks ago. When a patient's life was on the line it came much more natural to you to get loud and fight for one's rights. But normally you were too timid to act on your emotions as they came creeping up on you especially if it was about your own well being. And when it came to the old feeling of being bullied by someone in a stronger position you did tend to let them do with you as they pleased, functioning as a cheap punching bag.

“Please, let go I need to return to the emergency room” you mumbled trying to loosen his grip on you and rushed away. After long nights in the E.R. lately, the punishment for your slip up, you have had barely any sleep leaving you with barely any energy left and the situation was getting to you even more than it usually would have. You felt as if you were at the verge of tears and you felt your bottom lip trembling which made Trevor break out in a cruel laughter.

“Naw, look at you all cute and calm. I like them like that.” he marked cockily and pushed you closer to his body but before panic could settle in both of your radio message receivers beeped obnoxiously loud leading to him finally letting you go. Giving his device a little side look he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, showing his arm muscles off in the process. “See you later little birdie, duty calls!”. With that he confidently walked away leaving you behind, disgusted but also relieved nothing more happened. Supporting yourself on the wall you shook your head in disbelief of the scene that just had played out and with shaky hands you looked at your receiver. Apparently the emergency room needed you back at your spot so you breathed deeply in, stiffened your shoulders you jogged along the hallways to the emergency room. And that is when hell broke loose for you and your life.

The E.R. consisted of a big room on the bottom floor of the building with a comfy waiting area for the patients that weren't as badly injured and close family members that had brought them there. As the sofas were made out of brown leather with big pillows to support ones back and smaller birchwood tables with the newest magazines about fashion, health and heroes in front of them it gave the room a kind of living room atmosphere with a speck of green in form of some plants in the corners of the room. There were several smaller examination rooms, all equipped with the highest quality and newest technological devices to guarantee the best care for patients. It didn't matter how severe the cases were, that were delivered by the ambulance into the emergency room, the quick and precise work everyone did here, nurses as well as doctors was evident due to the high survival rate of critical conditions. Even on days with a high visitor frequency there was a certain organization and tidiness required and present in the ambulance. That's why the current state of the normally busy but organized area confused you even more.

There was a gigantic mess in the emergency room which was quite fascinating for the fact that it was four a.m. in the early morning. Even in this big and lively city most people were asleep by now but apparently that hadn't stopped these people from making a chaos out of the clinic's E.R. in a short matter of time. Still standing in the entrance you looked with big eyes at the scenario that unfolded in front of you:

The five nurses were cowering in the back of the ambulance in a cluster of people with clear confusion and a hint of fear in their eyes. Two of them even supported each other, clearly unsure of what was happening or how to behave right now. In the middle of the E.R. Trevor was standing, his hands on his hips and a condescending look on his face. Everywhere around him and the nurses were papers flattering around or laying on the ground, most of them being sheets patients had to answer about personal data, allergies, insurances and so on. Your eyes followed the direction in which Trevor was looking at and the first thing you realized was the dark red color splattered across the mint green tile floor which reflected the blinding light of the ceiling, which led from the entrance area to the middle of the room. As you tilted your head the metallic smell of copper hit your sensitive nostrils and you realized with your tired brain that you were looking at blood. A lot of blood. Following the puddles of the red liquid with your eyes you saw three pairs of shoes standing in the biggest puddle yet and you raised your eyes up the legs of three men that dominated the ambulance with their presence. As you saw them your eyes widened even more than before. Calling their outfits and behaviour suspicious would have been an understatement. Normally you wouldn't easily judge people but everything about them screamed villain.

The man standing in their middle, who seemed heavily injured was very tall and had an immensely toned body. Everything about this male seemed to be hard muscles. He easily was several heads taller than you and his hands looked as if he could crush heads like juicy watermelons. Though his hands were covered by sturdy metallic gauntlets, held together by some thick leather stripes, his outfit itself was quite unspectacular besides that, the only thing that really was outstanding next to his black combat trousers, boots and the sky blue button-up shirt that was hanging loosely around his hips as it was tucked into his pants was his former white Polo Shirt which was drained in dark liquid, more blood, you assumed. There was barely a white speck left on the shirt and it seemed like there was still more blood flowing with each second that passed by. You frowned when you realized that his face was hidden behind a full-covering black mask, which kinda reminded you of a killer whale with a bird´s beak, that allowed his wild and messy orange-red hair to stick out in the back. His head was hanging low and his breathing labored but he still mumbled some incoherent words which you weren't able to understand from this distance.

The wild looking man was being held upright by two other, smaller men flanking his left and right, each one having one of his arms around his shoulders to support him and his shaky legs. As the one to the left was quite smaller than him, his outfit seemed a bit more interesting. The traditional looking dark grey yukata which was held together by a white cloth that was functioning like a belt and his simple light brown leather boots seemed a bit outdated which was fitting though to his calm facial expression you could make out as he was wearing a mask as well, but in comparison to his other two companions did not cover up his eyes. Three dark brown stripes that were going around the sides of his head and were covering his ears as well as one that went in between his eyebrows into his spikey blonde hair held his bird beak like mask in place. The mask itself was a simple dark brown leather and the beak was bent towards the ground slightly. Sadly you couldn't make out his eyes as he seemingly kept them close giving him a look as if he was meditating.

To the injured man´s right stood a man or woman in a long white trench coat and sturdy black leather boots peeking out underneath it. The inside of the hood was a wine red which strangely complimented the full face covering mask the person was wearing. The mask itself consisted of a dark brown leather beak which was framed by a golden metal and where you assumed their eyes to be were some outstanding black goggles.

The two supporters were panting heavily, most likely as they mostly had to carry their big friend as he was barely able to stand himself let alone walk. You shook your head in disbelief. If they really were villains they were the first ones that had the guts to actually enter this hospital. Normally villains that came here were accompanied by the heroes who beat them in a fight and let them patch up here before bringing them to the police or the prison. It was unheard of villains coming into the hospital and the rules said that villains coming in alone should be reported straight away for the safety of the personnel and heroes that were in treatment and not strong enough to do anything against a villain attack. But this hasn't occured in all the time you worked here nor in the history of the hospital. Taking some steps forward so you stood next to Trevor you asked:” What's going on in here?” your voice sounding much more curious than scared. One of the nurses took a step forward and exclaimed:” These people are here cause they want medical attention but they seemed sketchy so we asked Mr. Hendersson to help us” and gave your least favourite person in the room a shy smile, who didn't even give her any attention. Frowning you turned to her and let out an annoyed sigh. For these nights you were the executive doctor for the E.R. and not Trevor and the nurses knew this. Most of them worked with you and accepted you but they did not respect you so it was obvious why they had called your nemesis in though he shouldn't have a say in this.

“And I just asked these thugs to leave our hospital. They are dirtying the floor and pollute the air with their villainous presence” Trevor spat out aggressively and crossing his arms in front of his chest staring at the three men with a raised eyebrow. The hooded figure raised his head:”This is a hospital isn't it? We aren´t belonging to some lowlife villains so don´t worry about that. Just start some treatment our friend here has taken some beating and requires medical help. We will reward you of course” a male voice which was calm but slightly laced with exhaustion probably due to carrying the bigger male. Looking at the three men you tried to assess the situation quickly. With how much and how rapidly the man was losing blood you were sure he wouldn't be able to walk out of here and get somewhere else to get a proper treatment. Even though he was constantly mumbling something and trying to move around and stand straight his head plopped down from time to time onto his chest. Following your instinct you licked your lips and approached the suspicious trio. “I will help your friend, just bring him to examination room two and put him on his back onto the examination table.” The hooded figure gave you a short and what you assumed to be thoughtful look before he nodded shortly and started dragging his friend along before Trevor stood in their way.

“One moment! You won't do that (Y/N). Are you out of your mind? We aren't helping some rats from the street. Just look at them.” He turned swiftly towards you and glared at you but as soon as he saw your determined face a small smile played around his features. Like a predator he came towards you and leaned down to your ear so only you could hear him which made your entire body go stiff:”Don't tell me you plan to go against the hospital rules...again. Seriously you really are only a pretty face and no brain are you? You do realize that I will tell the boss everything about this right? As soon as you go in there with these guys I will give him a call and tell him how little quirkless you is willingly treating some thugs in his precious little hospital. How you went against my word…” His big hand came up and layed heavy on your shoulder gripping it tightly under your coat and shoving you forcefully even a bit closer to him. “You will be fired (Y/N) and then what? I will ruin your reputation. I will tell everyone how bad you are. Heh, though maybe thats only good for you and I can give you some money to finally get you into my bed cause that's the only thing you will be good for then.” His warm breath washed over your ear and you let his words sink in. If you were by any means selfish you would call the police right now, tell them to leave and let this guy bleed out. You would continue your career and then what? Live with the shame to not have done what you believe in. Just working for the fame of being a good little doctor in a well known clinic. Just for the price of blowing all your morals into the wind…

Snap. Like a red thread under too much tension

The next thing you knew was how Trevor stumbled backwards holding his face and yelling out in surprise. One of the nurses screamed in terror but was fastly shushed by one of her colleagues who feared that attention could be drawn to them but you barely paid them any mind. Blood was flooding out of the doctor´s nose like a cascade and you watched in awe how his normally beautiful shaped face was crunched together in pain and covered in red. You looked down at your fist which was now bruised and covered in red stains as well. You arm was trembling and your breathing was going uneven, your heartbeat going several miles per hour. The thoughts ran like a wildfire through your brain. Yes, you had just punched your superior. Closing your eyes you tried to steady yourself. Apparently you had chosen your morals over your job. Now you could go all the way till the bitter end. The trembling in your limbs stopped and you looked at Trevor with a stern face. Both of your eyes met and he halted in his movement just staring back and for the first time you felt something like an ascendent feeling towards the normally superior male. “I will go and treat my patients now” you exclaimed with a soft voice stepped forward to the examination room nodding to the hooded male, who had watched the scene unfold in front of him and his friends, motioning him to come along. You held the door open for him and the others and closed it behind them. While the two heaved the big one onto the examination table you washed Trevors blood of your hands, dried them and put on gloves. Taking a deep breath you put on a professional face and turned swiftly around to them, coming over to the table and start several electrical devices, like a heart rate monitor which you would need during the examination and connected your patient to them. His vital function were stable but barely so. His heart rate was a bit to high but all in all he wasn't in a as worrisome state as you originally thought. His body was tone, he was in a great shape so he could take the blood loss, it probably just had made him dizzy but if you treated the wound fast enough he wouldn't need a transfusion of blood. Carefully you lifted his shirt and frowned at the big wound obviously caused by a sharp object. Carefully cleaning around the wound you quickly observed that the wound would need several stitches which would definitely leave a scar. Speaking softly to your patient you explained the situation and what was about to happen to him but he seemed to struggle slipping in and out of consciousness trying to talk. Regarding your caring nature you didn't want to ignore him so you leaned closer to his ear:”Excuse me Sir what?”. Just in that moment he jerked up, snatching your arm. Eyes widening in shock you gasped in pain as his grip had a bone breaking energy behind it for a man that was barely conscious. “Fight Me!” he yelled out before coughing violently. His two friends said both clearly annoyed to let you go and stepped forward to help you loosen his death grip on you but you just motioned them with your other hand to stop and with apparent confusion in their face. Valuing his behaviour and statement real quick and considering his outfit, the gauntlets on his arm and his strong body you were sure you had it do do with a man that never goes down, fighting till the last, which was what you had to play against him. You faced your violent patient and leaned towards his gigantic masked figure:”If you don´t let go right now there will never be an opportunity to fight ever again. You want to go like this? A pathetic stab wound? Not going down in a literal fight but because of the aftermath? Let me help you fight again… please.”

Even though you concentrated your eyes on the giant man in front of you, you could feel the gaze of the other men in the room upon you and the air felt heavy enough to make you lick your lips.Very slowly the warm and giant hand of the man slipped down your arm and he kept calm. If it was because he lost conscious again it wasn't being able to be seen in his body language or his vital signs. You swallowed down the saliva that had built up in your mouth, got the sterilized needle and threat as well as the disinfectant spray and started working on the wound. Except the moving of his abs nothing indicated the pain he must have felt while you were giving him his stitches. The examination room was quite while you worked quickly and in the end covering the freshly treated wound with big band aid that covered the entire thing. Exhaling the air out of your lungs shakily and got rid of your blood stained gloves, washing your fingers under the cold stream of water at the little sink. Behind you one of the men cleared his throat so you turned around to him looking at the hooded man. His mask did not allow you to see his eyes which highly started to get on your nerves a little bit and just started talking before he could say anything:” He is okay but will need rest. After that little incident I assume you will have to bind him to his bed or something along those lines to make him rest. So do it. The band aid covering the wound needs to be changed daily, at least. Be careful or it will infect and that would be very dangerous, okay?” you explained in your most professional tone. The hooded man just cocked his head slightly and nodded:”We will be on our way now before things get ugly here.” and you nodded in agreement frantically. Dark thoughts washed over you though. You should probably pack your things as well. Turning the door handle of the examination room you swung it open just to be washed over by a smell of a strong, expensive smelling cologne and you were faced with something metallic appeared right in front of your face which made you stop in your motion immediately. Your widened eyes followed the metallic piece in front of you upwards until you looked at a pair of amber colored eyes paired with long lashes which stared right back at you in a hypnotic matter. Calling you startled at this point was a massive underestimation. Taking a sharp breath the smell washed even stronger over you and made you feel dizzy. It was different from Trevor´s disgusting odor. This was a masculine and strong smell with a dark note, which made you crave for more as it was dominating your senses. Flattering your lashes you shook your head to clear your thoughts and you swallowed heavily. This was paired with a heat that emanated from its source towards you.

“Excuse me, Doctor.” Shaking your head slightly you pressed your eyelids together and looked down trying to collect your thoughts. This man's voice was deep and elegant coming over you like a relaxing wave shaking you up to your inner core. Carefully raising your head you allow yourself to take his look in.

His short and umber colored hair looked thick and well taken care of, shining in the bright hospital lights. The skin of this man was light like ash wood and absolutely clean of any impurities. As you had discovered before his eyes were framed by beautiful long lashes, topped with sharply arched eyebrows and his iris was of a full golden color even though you realized that his eyes held something cold and calculating in them. Sadly you couldn't see the bottom of his face because it was covered by a deep black medical face mask fitting the black button up shirt paired up with the white tie and black slacks he wore which ended right above his ankles. The feet were covered by some simple white sneakers which were remarkably clean. You realized the gloves on his hands which were similar to the surgeon gloves you wore here all the time.

Not sure how much time had passed since you had started taking his appearance in your cheeks flushed and you cleared your throat in embarrassment as you realized his raised eyebrow and the condescending look he gave you. “Yes, how can I help you?”. Was your voice always this raspy? Looking over your head he frowned for a short moment and it wasn't a look on his face you really would ever want on you.

“I believe my men have lost themselves here. The nurses informed me that you took care of them Miss (Y/L/N). I am here to pick them up and excuse the inconveniences they may have caused you.” Again. This incredible soothing voice. Slowly you nodded your head just to then frantically shake it. “No. No they… it was just unexpected. Ehm, I mean my boss probably isn't happy but it's okay I will find a solution I wouldn't just let your men down because they are v-... They are… ehm… They came here under special circumstances.” You ended your sentence after a lot of stutters and shakiness. He hummed as a response and considered you with another intense stare. Both of your eyes locked and you didn't back down even though it was intimidating to you and you felt the blood rush into your cheeks rapidly as well as your heart beat faster. “Let's go then.” he declared darkly and turned around to leave the hospital, his men squeezing past you, both of the healthy men supporting the patient and about to leave as they came. Staring after them you meekly stumbled into the main hall of the emergency room close after them but before you could say anything two other persons blocked the path to the outside of the hospital. You passed the group of four men and stood in front of them. Your boss and Trevor stood there, Trevor with a smug grin plastered on his face and your boss with a facade of pure anger. They didn't say anything. There was nothing that was needed to be said except the one word your boss said with so much venom in his voice that your entire body tensed up. “Out!”.

Even though you had expected this after making your choice you didn't expect it to hurt so much. Just nodding you took off the doctor's coat you wore which belonged to the hospital and laid it down on the register counter then hurrying out of the emergency room.

Once outside you breathed in the cold night air and let it fill your lungs. Your entire body was shaking and you didn't even realize that tears were slowly forming in your eyes. You had taken the risk and lost your job. It was a game over for you. Was it really worth it? Standing up for your morals to help some criminals? Wrapping your arms around your small figure you just stood there processing what had happened just now not hearing the footsteps closing up on you. “My men have told me what happened. Thanks for taking care of the situation. Can we help you out in any kind for the cooperation you helped us with?” The dark but stoic voice resonated behind you making you turn around on your heel with a small shriek looking at the tall man like a mouse looking at a cat. Your breast was heaving and your pulse was running several miles per hour. After recovering from your shock you took a step back from him, frowning:” Why would you give me anything? I am… I was a doctor. It is my job to help people.” you stated questioning. He blinked slowly while observing your face and he raising his hands with the palms to the heaven up in an opening and innocent motion. With a sigh he simply said:” In my business one hand washes the other. And I definitely don't like to owe someone anything. So I rather get this out of the way now than having to deal with it later.”.

You nodded in agreement and looked down shyly. “I made it my job to help people whose life is on the line. Your friend was heavily injured and looked for help. My boss´ policy didn't go along with mine so this separation would have happened at some point anyway. I did not study medicine intensely to only care about the wellbeing of some heroes who think they can conquer the world.” Your last words came out much more bitter than you originally intended them to be and your eyes widened and you slapped your hands across your mouth. Not being able to help yourself you broke out in a nervous giggle and you looked at him in shock. “Just forget what I said. I am rambling. Just blurting out some things. I hope you have a good life and your friend will be well. Take good care.” you blurted out and turned around nearly running away through the dark city towards your apartment without looking back at the mysterious man.

He just stood there for another moment looking after you with the same stoic expression. “Chrono.” he said with a stern tone feeling the presence of his right hand man right behind him. By now, him and Tengai should have loaded the hurt Rappa into the car he came with here. “Yes, Overhaul.” Chrono said calmly right next to him. The cold air of the upcoming colder season washed over the two men who were still standing on the sidewalk close to the hospital's emergency entrance. “First of all you will need to explain to me this disaster of tonight´s mission. Whoever is responsible for this better have a good excuse that I had to come through this pest filled town in the middle of the night. Second of all, you said this doctor is quirkless?” he asked his old childhood friend looking at him from the side. Chrono nodded:” Yes, I overheard it in that conversation she had with that other doctor who wanted to throw us out.”.

Overhaul hummed and his golden eyes looked down the street where you had disappeared to. “Find out everything about her. She might be of use for our cause” he ordered Chrono who bowed slightly, following him into the car to drive back to the base.

Your life would soon take a turn you had never expected.

21 notes · View notes

cagestark · 5 years

Text

-Defender//4-

Warnings: tony recounts trauma that is very reminiscent of civil war, but just a reminder that this is an Alternate Universe where there are differences between this story and canon.

Read here on AO3.

Training goes well.

Peter meets Black Widow (and she is even more beautiful in person, so beautiful that it’s eerie). She offers him her hand and he shakes it, firm and polite. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Steve staring at their hands as they clasp together, but if he’s expecting Peter to use his strength on an unenhanced human—not to mention one who has done nothing wrong—he’s got another thing coming.

Just to rub it in, Peter puts on his best respectful veneer when he says: “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Ma’am! Do you hear that, Steve?” The man mutters an I hear it under his breath. “Call me Natasha. They’re calling you Spider-Man, you know that? I guess that makes us of a similar Kingdom and Class.”

Peter feels warmth in his gut, the pleased, tingly feeling of belonging. He has a name like Black Widow or Hawkeye or Iron Man. Fuck. May would tease him without end for that, in between her proud smiles and glistening eyes. “That’s so cool,” Peter says, sounding as star-struck as he feels. “We’re like, the spider subdivision of the Avengers or something. Ancestral Arachnids.”

“Natasha is going to be overseeing your training,” Steve says. He shows no signs of Peter’s unpleasantness earlier in the week, but something about the way those blue eyes track his every movement keeps Peter from letting the man stand at his unprotected back. “She’s one of the best in the field when it comes to hand to hand combat. You more than likely already have the instincts you need if you’re enhanced, so she’s just going to help you learn how to listen to those instincts and hone them, plus run you through our procedures in the field. Sound good?”

It does sound good.

“Do you want to spar, Captain?” Peter asks while Natasha changes into work-out clothes. This time, the other man doesn’t fall for his wide, guileless eyes and the gentle, pubescent sounding voice. He assesses Peter with flat, knowing eyes.

Steve shakes his head. “Busy today, kid. Some other time.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Peter promises, flexing the fingers he’d used to crush the other man’s hand. He cracks the joints swiftly.

Natasha isn’t enhanced, so he is careful not to hurt her while they spar, but her depth of knowledge seems endless. She knows techniques from martial arts subdivisions that Peter can’t even pronounce, and Peter watches her every move, soaking up the knowledge like a sponge. He loves learning. He loves being useful. He loves the ache in his body after a workout. He loves having a purpose.

“How often does Mr. Stark train?” Peter asks during a water break.

Hawkeye (Clint, as he introduces himself) and Falcon (Sam) are wrapping their knuckles by the water cooler and overhear him ask. Clint snorts. “Tony? He doesn’t. At least, not with us.”

“He comes to the mandatory team exercises every other week. We’d kick him out of those, too, except that it’d be dangerous for us in the field,” Sam admits. “You’ll find that Tony is kind of like the third wheel on our dates with the bad guys, Pete. He tags along or shows up even when we ask him not to. Sometimes he comes in handy, sometimes he gets in the way.”

“But he pays for the tech and the Tower, so try not to piss him off or we’ll all end up out on the streets,” Clint adds. He and Sam touch knuckles.

Peter says nothing—stunned. He might have guessed that with a team leader like Steve, the rest of the team would have the same viewpoints but it’s still…disappointing. The Avengers were his heroes in his teen years, but they’re turning out to just be normal people. Shitty ones, at that. Peter feels another part of his illusioned childhood slip through his fingers.

He trashes it, along with his empty water cup.

“Peter?” Natasha asks. He can tell by the look on her face that she senses his tense mood, her eyes flickering between him and the two older men preparing to spar behind him. “You want to run through things one more time before we call it quits for today?”

“Actually, I’m feeling a little tense in my shoulders,” Peter lies, ignoring the guilt that gnaws at his stomach. He rubs at one trap for effect. “I think I’m going to go stretch and shower and rest—don’t want to pull a muscle, you know.”

“Right,” she says. “Well let me know if you aren’t feeling up to doing more in the morning. You have weeks before you’ll be cleared for fieldwork, so there’s no rush. Here, give me your Starkphone and I’ll program my number into it.”

“I don’t have a Starkphone,” Peter says. He’s never even had a smartphone, much less a STARKphone, the specs of which can’t be compared to anything Apple and Samsung are cooking up in their wildest dreams. They aren’t even mass produced considering their at-cost price is three grand. Peter has two dollars in change in the pocket of his backpack, but that’s it (and it’s mostly pennies). “But if you just tell it to me, I can memorize your number and put it in my track phone when I get upstairs.”

Natasha’s brows draw together. “Tony must be slacking if you don’t have one. He gives every new Avenger the latest model to make sure we’re up to date on the newest tech and able to communicate efficiently—something about how iPhones are the equivalent of chiseling on stone or sending smoke signals. I’ll talk to Tony for you.”

“Mr. Stark doesn’t need to make me a phone,” Peter insists. “I have one upstairs that works just fine. Maybe when I start getting paid, I can save up and get one of my own—”

“You don’t have to save up to get Stark tech,” she says, smiling. “It’s free. That’s the perk of having Tony on the team.”

The perk, she says, like Tony’s money is the only thing he has going for him.

“I don’t want it,” Peter says. He puts space between them, jabbing the button for the elevator with more force than necessary. When the doors open to finally take him away from this gym with these people, it feels like he’s watching the pearly gates open for the way relief fills him. “But thanks anyway. I guess I should be thanking Mr. Stark, though, right?”

The doors close on her confused face.

Thirty hours later, Peter is climbing the walls. Figuratively, this time. He feels even less inclined to leave his room now than he had before. He’s already become something of a nocturnal recluse, exiting the kitchen only in the dead of night when he can hear the sounds of the other Avengers sleeping around him. He’s met some of the others who come and go and some who live on the floor: Thor, Wanda, Dr. Stephen Strange, Bruce Banner. There are hushed mentions of another member, Bucky, but Peter never sees him. What hurts most is Tony’s glaring absence. Ever since Peter got the man off, he hasn’t seen a trace of him. Anxiety blooms in his chest like water expanding upon freezing, icy barbs that make it hard to take a full breath. What if Tony is mad at him? What if Peter misinterpreted things between them? What if the dynamic has changed, and now he’s nothing to Mr. Stark but yesterday’s news?

It wouldn’t be the first time something like that had happened to him.

“Peter?” the disembodied voice with the exaggerated Irish lilt makes him jump.

He clears his throat, out of sorts as it is from disuse. “Yes, Ms. FRIDAY?”

“It’s Mr. Stark, Peter. He wants to know if you’re available to meet him in the lab.”

Peter jams his feet into his shoes without bothering to put on socks.

Tony blinks in surprise at how quickly Peter arrives through the glass door of his lab, eyes scanning up and down Peter’s figure before settling on his face and giving a warm smile. Peter takes the time to assess the older man as well (fair is fair!). Tony looks exhausted, eyes shadowed, hair a mess. He’s wearing the same clothes he was the last time Peter saw him, but it’s been so many days, surely he’s just rewashed and decided to wear the clothes again—right?

It’s the first time they’ve seen each other since Peter moved rooms, since the night he ground on the man’s lap until Mr. Stark came in his pants. Just the memory of it (which Peter has revisited several times in his bed, in his shower) makes him flush with phantom arousal. At least he can blame that on the speed he used to get here.

Maybe it should be awkward, but it isn’t. Not on Peter’s end, at least.

Tony points to the lab table closest to the door where a large box rests. “I am bearing a gift for you, spider-boy.”

“Spider-Man,” Peter amends, already smiling. The difference is amazing and something he didn’t necessarily notice until he saw the man again, until the apathetic listlessness was washed from his skin leaving him feeling refreshed and exuberant. Peter missed him. He tip-toes towards the table, fingers hesitating above the ominous box. “You didn’t need to get me anything, Mr. Stark.”

“I didn’t—I made you something. Big difference. Go ahead, open it.”

With trepidation, Peter opens the box. There is a large mass of dark fabric inside and a smaller, sleek box sitting on top.

“Ta-Da!” Tony says. “Two gifts! I lied. I’m such a liar—”

Tony sways where he stands, like he’s suddenly lost his balance. Peter nearly upends a lab table between them trying to get to the man, watching as he white knuckles the nearest surface to ease himself down into the chair he’d abandoned. The heart in his chest pounds, skipping beats, a horror movie soundtrack that Peter is privy to, but Tony just waves the younger man’s concern away. “Gifts. Don’t worry about me, the look on your face will heal me of all my ailments, clear my skin, water my crops, all the things the kids say these days.”

“Your skin is already clear,” Peter mutters, frowning as he returns to the box and glances in the open lid. His stomach twists as he removes the smaller box. When he opens it, there is the sleekest, thinnest phone starring back at him, nestled in plastic that hugs its smooth curves, midnight blue. When he gingerly takes it from the box and turns it over, he sees the Stark Industries logo on the back and all the breath gets trapped in his lungs. “Mr. Stark—I—”

“I’m going to be honest, your expression isn’t healing me right now. What’s the matter kid? You wanted a different color?”

“I didn’t want one at all—” The look on Tony’s face is some mix between shock and disappointment. “No! I just meant, I mean, of course I want one Mr. Stark, these are the best phones in the world, I’m not just saying that, but I didn’t want you to go through the trouble. I know that these aren’t mass produced.”

“They aren’t,” Tony admits. “I made that one personally last night. Just for you, Pete. One of a kind. Like its owner.”

Peter’s face flushes. “I’ll save up my money and pay you back as soon as I can.”

“Don’t worry about it. Get out the next present. Come on, I want you to put it on and make sure it fits.”

Somehow Peter is even more nervous—did Tony buy him clothes? He gets an image in his head of him walking around the penthouse wearing one of Tony’s band-shirts. Surely it would swim on Peter’s thin, petite frame. If he wore nothing underneath it, it’d be perfect access for Tony to come up behind him while Peter is at the counter in the kitchen (making coffee, cooking pop-tarts, who cares), ruck up the hem, and grind his erection against Peter’s bare ass.

Trying to slow his breathing, Peter hopes that his thoughts aren’t written clear as day on his face. When he pulls it from the box, he finds himself holding a jumpsuit made of a material that feels unlike anything he’s touched before: hard like metal, but flexible like fabric. It’s of a blue so dark that it’s nearly black. To match his phone maybe, he thinks. “What is this?” Peter asks. “Pajamas?”

“I’m sorry—pajamas? Jesus, kid, you’re, fuck. You’re really busting my balls today. It’s your suit! Well, the prototype. My struggles right now are just finding a material that’s strong enough to deflect bullets but flexible enough for you to do your creepy-crawly gimmick. Go and try it on, I want you to tell me if it fits.”

Peter sheds his shirt right away only to catch the stricken look on Tony’s face. “I meant go in the bathroom and change, Chippendale, but if—yeah, okay, that works, I’ll just—” he turns around to face the opposite direction. Peter rolls his eyes. His abs might be the one thing he has going for him, and Mr. Stark refuses to look at them now. Great.

He strips to his boxers and begins to tug on the suit, but a problem announces itself immediately. “Mr. Stark, this doesn’t have holes for my hands and feet. I need skin to surface contact for the scopulae to work.”

Tony remains looking resolutely away. “Not anymore. Thanks to all the in-depth scans FRIDAY completed last time you were here, I’ve found a way to recreate your scopulae mechanically. The sensors in the fingers and feet of your suit (and it should fit like a glove, Peter) will activate only when you activate your spider-touch. The suit is just expensive interfacing that will keep you from getting your fingers sawn off or developing frost bite. Are you in it yet? Come on, kid, the anticipation is killing me.”

Peter flexes around to zip himself up and yeah, the suit fits like a glove. The tightest glove he’s ever worn. One that was made for the contours of his body, the flatness of his abs, the bulge of his biceps. “It’s on. You can look.”

Tony spins around on the stool. He eyes Peter from the collar down, and the younger man grows flush, feeling that gaze on him as easily as he’d feel fingers reaching out to caress him. But when Tony fires off a series of technical questions about the fit, it becomes clear that he isn’t checking Peter out. He’s checking out the suit. Which kind of makes Peter even more crazy about him, if such a thing is possible.

“I’ve already tested the things it can and can’t do: it can’t be cut, it can’t be pierced or penetrated. Can’t be burned, though some hazardous materials are corrosive enough to it with long term exposure, so try not to take any lengthy dips in inconveniently placed vats of acids. But I have not yet seen what you can do in it. Let’s take it for a test run, huh kid?”

Tony takes him to the training room, which is empty on a Sunday. The ceilings are high—very high, and Peter scales them with ease. It feels strange at first, not feeling his bare skin on the plaster of the walls and the textured ceiling, but the suit fits so close to him that it’s easy to forget it isn’t his skin. There isn’t any difference in grip that Peter can detect, but he tests it anyway, hanging precariously by one hand.

“Oh no, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, placing the back of his free hand against his forehead like a true damsel in distress. He lets his legs kick a little in the air. “Please, save me!”

“I’m watching you use four fingers and a thumb to stick to a glass window twenty feet off the ground,” Tony calls. “I don’t think you need any saving. Still—this is not an invitation to be scaling my building, understand?”

“I don’t know, it feels pretty inviting to me!”

“Peter Parker—no death-defying circus acts, do you hear me?”

“No promises!”

Tony shakes his head. Peter thinks that he maybe looks a little fond. But maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

“Dinner plans?” Tony asks as they reenter the lab. He turns away so Peter can strip off the suit, though the younger man rolls his eyes. “I was thinking about ordering in like I always do. I’m feeling like soup though, need something light on my stomach. FRI, baby, what do you recommend?”

“After forty hours of no other sustenance, I’d not recommend anything spicy, high in fiber, or fried.”

“So you’d not recommend anything good, I get it—"

“Forty hours?” Peter asks, nearly tangling himself up in his haste to pull his shirt on over his head. He can’t see Tony’s expression, but his shoulders are hunched, one elbow resting on the table. Even from behind, he looks exhausted. “You can’t do that, Mr. Stark. You need to take breaks.”

“This is my break, kid. FRI, order me some vegetable soup from that vegan place down the street, and get Peter—Pete, what do you want? Does soup sound okay? What am I kidding, you’re enhanced, you need more than that. FRIDAY, find Peter something to eat that’s good for him, I don’t know, I’m hardly role-model material.”

“Soup is fine, Ms. FRIDAY,” Peter insists before the AI can purchase him an entire barbecued pig or something equally ridiculous. If she is anything like her creator, she must have a tendency to go overboard. Out to sea. Past the line of the horizon. “I don’t need anything special. Just a lot of it, if that’s okay.”

They take the soup up in Tony’s penthouse, and it’s the happiest Peter’s felt since being moved down to the Avengers’ communal floor. It feels like nothing has changed when Tony kicks up his socked feet onto the coffee table, takes the soup bowl into his hands and drinks the broth from it. He leaves all the carrots in the bottom, and it should be dorky that Peter finds something like that so fucking endearing.

“How’s it been, living with other superheroes?” Tony asks him, sipping spring water. “Everything you dreamed it would be?”

Peter shrugs, swirling his spoon around his own bowl.

“Not everything you dreamed?” Tony amends.

“I don’t want to badmouth my teammates,” Peter mutters. “We just obviously have different opinions about some important things. But that’s normal right? You put a half dozen people in the same apartment and of course they aren’t always going to agree.”

Tony hums. “You hate how Barton puts the coffee grinds right into the garbage disposal, don’t you? I’ve told him time and time again—”

Peter snorts. “No, that’s not it. It’s…well. It’s you.”

Tony frowns now. His whole demeaner changes, shrinks. With forced humor, he asks: “Me? What’d I do this time?”

“Nothing,” Peter hurries to assure. His face flushes, he wants to press his palms against his burning cheeks, but he doesn’t want to call attention to it. “I guess that’s just where the other Avengers and I disagree. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want to cause trouble or to make you feel bad, I just—I wish they treated you better. I wish they saw what an amazing person you are. You know?”

“Maybe you’re just seeing me with rose-tinted glasses, kid,” Tony says, smiling sadly.

“I just see the way you treat me,” Peter admits. “People were always pretending I wasn’t there. When I was sleeping rough, they’d just walk by, turn their heads so we didn’t have to look at each other. So they didn’t have to look at me, I guess. Even working here, not a lot of people pay attention to the Maintenance Department. We’re supposed to be…invisible. You treat me like I’m a human being, though. Like you see me.”

“You are a human being,” says Tony. “And I do see you. I don’t know how anyone could miss you, kid.”

God. Maybe that’s just basic human decency, but Peter hasn’t been shown such a thing in so long that it makes his heart clench, makes his stomach churn and palms go sweaty. He’s filled with such longing that his insides twist. More and more lately, he feels like if he doesn’t have this older man for himself, it might kill him, a desire so keen that it hurts.

“Woah there,” says Tony, reaching out quickly to sit his bowl down on the table. “Don’t give me that look. That look is liable to get us into trouble.”

“What look?” Peter asks, breathily, letting his eyes drag down the man’s body. He licks his lips reflexively—what, they’re dry, okay?

“That look!” Tony says, pointing. “That one right there, the one that says you’re about to eat me whole.”

“Spiders are mostly carnivorous,” Peter says.

Tony laughs, scrubbing at his face with one hand. “Peter, I’m really not known for my self-control—actually I’m sort of famously known for my lack of self-control. Have some mercy on an old man.”

“Who needs self-control,” Peter grumbles. All the things that embarrass him—the kind words, the affectionate touches—sex isn’t really one of them. Peter hasn’t been a virgin in years, and it’s been too long since he had a partner as good as he knows Mr. Stark will be. A partner as incredible as Mr. Stark is. “Besides, I’m twenty years old, I’m not supposed to have good self-control either.”

“How old is that is spider years? Because I think you’ll probably still come out more mature than I am.”

“Spiders aren’t dogs, Mr. Stark—” Peter finds himself inching closer to the man. His skin is so sensitive that he can feel the heat thrown off by Tony’s body. It’s impossible not to know how the older man is affected, not when his heart stutters, his pupils bloom. “You know, I don’t think that soup was enough. Maybe I need something else to fill me up.”

“I’ve heard a lot of dirty talk in my time, kid,” Tony says. Though his voice is unchanged, his breathing is haggard. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

“That sounds like permission if I’ve ever heard it,” Peter breathes. In one swift move, he straddles the man’s thigh until it rests between his own, arching his back so that his cock rubs against that muscled leg.

Tony stops breathing. His eyes are half-lidded, the whiskey color turned deeper and darker. He takes several long, slow breaths to calm himself, but Peter doesn’t want that. He wants to see this composed man become the opposite of calm. He slips down off of his perch on the man’s lap and between the parted knees.

“Kid,” Tony says, catching his wrist when it moves towards the man’s belt buckle. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” Peter asks.

“I’m exhausted,” the man says, and as he says it, Peter can see it. Between his legs, the man isn’t even hard. He reaches out with one trembling hand and pets at Peter’s hair, traces the shell of his ear with his thumb until Peter shivers, smiling. “I’ve been awake for, FRIDAY—”

“Fifty-one hours, boss.”

Tony points up to the ceiling. “What she said. I don’t think I could get hard even if I tried right now.”

Peter lets his head rest on the man’s thigh, watching carefully to make sure that Tony is okay with the intimacy. Judging by the soft smile, the way his hand comes down to pet at Peter’s curls, Tony’s okay with it. Shuddering at the stimulation on his scalp, Peter wills away the erection between his legs. Now isn’t the time. “Is it normal for you to spend so much time in the lab?”

“Nothing about me is normal, kid.”

“You know what I mean.”

Tony hums. “Sometimes when I have a project deadline, or when something’s caught my interest. After Natasha reminded me that I hadn’t made your phone yet—”

“Natasha?” Peter’s head lifts from the muscular thigh. He grits his teeth, officially adding her to the list of people he can’t trust with Tony’s wellbeing. “I told her not to bother you. It’s not your job to manufacture a phone for me; you’ve already done so much.”

“Just a match on the fire of things I’d do for you, kid,” Tony says. He sounds half asleep, and the sight of the shadows under his eyes reminds Peter that their positions are very backwards. Tony’s eyes blink open when Peter moves away, wide and bloodshot, looking ready to apologize though he’d done nothing wrong.

Peter sits at the opposite end of the couch and pats his lap. “Put your head here.”

“There?” Tony asks, pointing. “What for?”

“Think: why would I put my head in your lap?”

“To suck me off—?”

Peter sucks in breath to laugh and chokes instead, coughing until he’s red in the face. “Save that thought for another time. Just lay down.”

Tony does, gingerly. He lays flat on his back, one of Peter’s thighs cushioning the arch of his neck. It gifts Peter with the most delicious vantage point of the man’s face, even if he looks a little trepidatious. With all the tenderness he has in him, Peter reaches out to stroke the dark hairs off of the man’s forehead. Immediately, Tony’s eyes flutter and he inhales. The billionaire has noble features, even as delicately lined with age as they are. With his nails, Peter softly scratches at the man’s temples where gray hair is sprouting.

“God,” Tony mutters. “That feels good. Never stop.”

“Quit,” Peter says, smiling. “You’re going to make me hard.”

Eyes shut, Tony smiles, baring the prettiest, white teeth. God, there’s nothing about him that Peter would change. Nothing about him that is less than perfect—except for maybe the way he sees himself. How could someone so intelligent be so off base in their self-perception? “Should I talk about something that will turn you off instead?”

“Thanks, but no. You can go to sleep if you want to. You sound really tired.”

“I am really tired,” Tony concedes. His voice is soft and just a little slower than normal. Slurred, drunk with exhaustion. “Shouldn’t sleep though.”

“Why not?”

“I have nightmares,” Tony breathes. Underneath his eyelids, Peter can see his eyes flickering, like he’s watching his nightmares playing out in his mind. The man shivers—honest to God shivers, and Peter’s own senses take notice. Something is upsetting Tony, the goosebumps on his arms say, the anxious twisting of his stomach. Something is scaring him. Help. Protect. “Night terrors, according to FRIDAY. I get violent.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Peter says. Tony’s eyes slit open to stare at him, as if assessing the truth of his statement. “I could snap you in half, remember? I, I could snap Captain America in half, for what it’s worth—”

And the way Tony’s eyes open, shoulders stiffening where they’re pressed against Peter’s thighs, suddenly he knows. He knows that whatever is hurting Mr. Stark goes back to Steve Rogers. Peter strokes through the dark hair, rubbing at one temple with a tender thumb, but Tony’s eyes don’t close again. They stare at the ceiling above them, seeing through it like it isn’t there. Peter feels both hot and cold all over, inside his body and yet far away, watching through the windows of his eyes.

“Did he hurt you?” Peter asks. His mouth feels numb.

“It was my fault,” Tony says, shivering. “There was an altercation, and I made him choose between me or his closest friend. I can’t fault him for not choosing—for choosing Barnes. Some skeletons came out of the closet; I guess Barnes was responsible for my parents’ death—”

“Excuse me?”

“—it’s a long story,” Tony says. His eyes slip shut. “He killed them, but he was brainwashed so, so it doesn’t really count, I guess, does it? That’s what everyone says, what they keep telling me—that he was just as blameless as a gun might have been, he was just a weapon—”

“Tony. Hey. Just take some deep breaths—”

“There was a fight. Me versus them,” Tony continues. Peter’s heart sinks to think of this fragile, unenhanced man having to hold his own against two enhanced super soldiers. The suit had them on more equal footing, but two against one was never fair. Ever. “I was hurt. Very badly.”

Tony takes one of Peter’s hands, spreads open the fingers that melt under his touch. He presses it to the center of his chest and the young man can hardly believe what he’s feeling, isn’t even sure what he’s feeling. There’s a depression in Tony’s chest, centered on his sternum, a hollowness in the shape of a perfect circle. It’s right above his heart.

“What is that?” Peter asks, placing his palm there.

“After my stint in a cave in Afghanistan, I came home with an electromagnetic pacemaker that was keeping me alive and powering the Iron Man suits. During the fight, Steve destroyed it. The suit, it—it felt like a coffin. Hours went by before I was found. I don’t know what was worse: the sound the shield made when it came down on my heart or laying there with the thought of someone peeling open my suit someday and finding my skeleton.”

“Jesus,” Peter mutters.

And they live here. Steve is one floor down from them, probably doing something domestic like making dinner or watching television or doing crunches in his room. How can he show his face here, when he nearly took Tony’s life from him? How can the other Avengers let him? And Barnes—Peter isn’t even prepared to deal with how fucked up Tony having to house his own parents’ murderer is. Because it’s beyond fucked.

Tony rolls onto his side, face toward Peter. It might be arousing under different circumstances, but now it makes Peter curl up over him, removing his palm from the hollow chest and reaching for Tony’s hand. The palm is clammy, but Peter could care less. He squeezes, firm but gentle, and continues to card his fingers through Tony’s hair.

“’m so sorry,” Peter says lowly.

Tony’s eyes are closed, but he still murmurs back, “It’s no big deal. We’ve all made up, now, even Barnes and me. But sometimes—”

“—sometimes you’re still scared.”

Tony brow furrows just the slightest, lines that Peter wants to reach out and smooth away. “No,” he mumbles, more than half asleep now. “No, Stark men don’t get scared…made of iron...”

Peter says nothing. He sits there, stroking the man’s hair until his breathing evens out and his mouth goes slack, and even then Peter can’t bring himself to move. When he speaks, it is quiet, more to himself than to Tony. “You have nothing to be afraid of anymore. I will never let anything happen to you Mr. Stark. You have my word. I will protect you.”

Softly as he can, he maneuvers himself out from underneath the man’s head. There’s an afghan on the back of one armchair (though not the kind Peter’s used to, not the kind his grandmother might have made considering this one feels so soft and rich and new), and he lays it across the man. Oh, if only Vanity Fair and Rolling Stone and Time magazine could see him now, the soft and relaxed expression, the gently parted mouth.

Quiet as a spider mouse, Peter cleans up their mess from dinner so that Tony won’t have to wake up to it. After everything is back where it should be, Peter sits heavily in the armchair by the couch, a silent vigilant.

Tonight, Peter is a dreamcatcher.

When he finally leaves the penthouse and heads back to his own room, the sun is just starting to hint at rising. His own eyes are heavy, and his shoulders bowed with troubles—his own and Tony’s. All of it evaporates when he sees a figure sitting at the window watching the sunrise, a cup of coffee in his hand and the goddamn newspaper beside him, truly a man out of time.

Steve looks at him with all the prim disapproval of an old biddy, as if Peter was walking in with high heels in his hand and no panties on underneath a party dress. They stare at each other in silence for a long moment while the fury builds under Peter’s skin.

“Looking for a fight?” Peter asks, his hands shaking. A normal human might miss it, but Steve doesn’t.

“No,” Steve says. “I’m not going to fight you, Peter.”

“You will. Soon.”

“Not every disagreement has to come to violence.” The magnanimous attitude makes Peter see red, but then he wonders the sound Captain America’s shield makes when it strikes metal and feels cold all over.

“That’s real rich,” Peter mutters. He lifts a hand and flips him off. Steve’s lips get thin—but there’s no satisfaction in it. Giving Captain America the bird is small beans compared to the trauma Tony experienced at the man’s hands.

Peter doesn’t bother looking back.

In the privacy of his room, Peter takes the time to look through his new Starkphone. He discovers that he already has one contact: Tony. Peter rolls over to press his face flat into the mattress and keep from making any embarrassing noises (or at least to keep from making them loud enough for Steve to hear in the main room). His life has taken the strangest detour, and he hopes that whatever the destination may be that it takes ages to get there. He’s enjoying himself far too much. Take the scenic route, fate. Thanks.

Even though Tony is asleep, Peter can’t help but send a quick message and hope that FRIDAY screens his texts and will keep it from waking the exhausted man.

Thanks again for the phone, Mr. Stark. It’s awesome.

He sits his phone aside on the table, telling himself that he won’t check it until the morning.

Peter wakes with the phone pressed flat between his cheek and the pillow, the vibration of an incoming text making his skull buzz. Squinting at the phone, he sees that it’s a nine in the morning, and Tony has just replied to his message.

We’re very even, kid. x

Falling back to sleep takes forever, but the smile that threatens to split his face is worth it.

#starker #cagewrites #longfic

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syxjaewon · 4 years

Text

keep me like a virus

@neosy

the bar is a shitty, one-room affair, low lighting and murmuring music, all ambiance and atmosphere and shadows, an anonymous space with nameless patrons and faceless servers, their smiles ranging all over from plastered and rigid to sly and coaxing, and yang jaewon steps into their midst like a stone thrown into a pond, the ripples fluttering away from him in whispers and glances. his eyes are the brightest things in here, twin stars kindling from behind long, dark eyelashes, every detail picked up and documented regardless of the nighttime they’re surrounded by, the metallic plating injected into his life for exactly these sorts of purposes, albeit more war-related and less bounty-linked. he’s clad in his usual black attire, his long coat caressing the top edges of his weighted combat boots, colorless clothes underneath it, dark scarred skin, the ensemble painting him as little more than a phantom, the dimness shading him like a silhouette with a burning, volcanic gaze.

several people from surrounding tables bite their lips, click their nails, place their bets.

one of the servers, a silver-skinned, clockwork creature, rolls up to him on wheeled feet and asks politely him if he would like to sit at the bar or at a booth, but he shakes his head for neither, barely glancing at her as he side-steps her. “i’m looking for someone.” his voice is calm but determined as he enters further into the rags-and-riches dining area, the place a hodgepodge of wealth and poverty, of muted colors and obnoxiously dressed attendees, of smoke and wine and the scent of sex, exactly what you’d expect of a dive at the edge of this side of the galaxy.

“you won’t find anyone here,” the server warns him as she passes behind him, continuing on with her job, her voice lilting and slow, melodic. “no one is here.”

the band on his wrist blinks a special black color, impossible to see from the un-enhanced eye, and jaewon looks at it only a moment to confirm what he already knows, what he’s already converged upon; the girl is here, somewhere on the west side, somewhere in the gloom and contours of this building. he doesn’t hesitate, striding immediately in that direction, his eyes careful and searching but also unassuming and nonthreatening. should his prey find him before he finds her, the chances that she’ll know him, recognize him, worry about him closing in, should be next to nil-- unless she’s just overly paranoid. ares had warned him against this, but there’s always a chance it could simply work, the direct approach, the simple conversation device, the layout of current circumstances. he doesn’t have a lot of time.

when he spots her, he pretends he hadn’t, continues to meander around a little bit, like he’s still hunting for a friend or an enemy or a familiar face in the crowd, speaking to no one and no one speaking to him-- this isn’t that sort of place. she’s in a booth in the far back, a nearly enclosed space with thick curtains, and when he does finally round in on her location, he does it quickly and efficiently enough that it almost seems like an accident, like he hadn’t planned on approaching her, he hadn’t planned on sitting across from her, he hadn’t planned on slapping a sound-field around them, it just all happened that way, an innocent coincidence. he knows being able to find someone here would only destroy the restaurant’s reputation of anonymity, and that’s not what he came here to do.

“hello blue.” he matches her gaze across the expanse of table between them, his fingers weaving together, every inch of him a solid formation, a mountain, a wall, a net, inescapable, inevitable, unavoidable. “before i explain who i am, i want to tell you that the bounty on your head has risen exceedingly in the past month, and i’m not the only person who’s found out about your presence here at this bar tonight. i don’t know if they’re here already, but i do know they’re not keen for a conversation. i am.”

#| keep me like a virus |#neosy #for achara #verse one. jaewon

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mariisseething · 5 years

Text

Analyzing Hero Costumes: Girls of Class 1-A

My obsession has spiraled out of control. Let me roast analyze these babes. I’m dumb. I’m tired. I’m gay. Let’s do this.

Warning: I’m a cynical, lazy-ass critic with no consistent taste. Don’t expect a fair analysis.

(This is just for fun, please don’t get mad at me for being an undereducated weeb! I went into writing this with only the knowledge I’ve obtained through watching the show and reading the manga. I don’t know everything about the costumes, and I don’t want to either)!

Ashido Mina (Pinky)

Babe, imma be frank here.

I love her, but—

that shit ugly.

Funcionality: Mina’s quirk (Acid) comes from her hands and feet. If I remember correctly, she has passages in her shoes that her...foot..acid.....can pass through, and her hands are fully exposed. So her costume is “practical”, and works with her quirk.

Design: As I said before, that shit ugly. The body suit has the worst pattern and color combination I’ve ever seen. (Like if Sully from Monster’s Inc. was turned into a cow and hated it). Her tiddies should be popping out any second now, which isn’t great. Her weird armpit vest with it’s stupid fluffy collar is quite reminiscent of Hawks’ jacket, which leads me to believe that their costumes were made by the same designer. (Many of the designers in the BNHA universe put calling-cards in their costumes). Her white mask is pointless, but at least it matches the fluff on her collar. Her boots, though they have a purpose, are ugly as sin. The pale yellow doesn’t match any other piece in the ensemble, and the Dabi-scar colored purple makes me sad. Hate that.

Total Score: 2/10

Her costume does almost nothing to enhance her quirk, and it’s hideous. The only reason it got two points was because of the shoe holes, and the possibility that it’s connected to my boy Hawks.

Seriously, this is some Seasame Street lookin-ass bullshit.

No hate on Mina, she’s lovely, but her taste is atrocious. (see: her bedroom).

Asui Tsuyu (Froppy)

Okay, okay bitch I see you.

I’m here for this.

Funcionality: Tsu’s quirk (Frog) requires a decent amount of flexibility from clothing. Spandex works for that I guess. Normally, I would automatically fail this costume for having goddamn toe “socks”, but for Tsuyu they’re nessecary. Having her individual toes chiseled out helps her grip onto shit when she’s kicking ass. It looks like her gloves are attached to her body suit, which is rad, but I’m not sure what the purpose of that waist belt-thing is. If anything, the chunky pieces of her costume would make it harder for her to swim. I also have no fucking clue what that head piece is. I once thought they were like binoculars or something, but she’s never put them on her face so...they wouldn’t fit....on her face..huh.....I’m so stupid bro.

Design: Lets start with a positive, the color scheme slaps. Everything goes together, and the dark green even matches her hair. The bodysuit has a cool structure, and I can definitely appreciate the slight turtleneck and boot-esq feature; however, the chunky wrist pieces, belt, neck/chest-thing, and head piece confuse me. I guess they’re there for fashion, gutter fashion. Shitty crap face fashion. Ugly butthole fashion. FILTH! I need to calm down holy shit—

Total Score: 6/10

The look honestly only lost points for the random ass statement pieces. Water terrains are Tsuyu’s specialty, and a clunky outfit would certainly slow her down underwater.

The toe shit, turtleneck, thigh-high “boots”, and color scheme are pretty dope though.

(Also, she only has three toes but frogs have four).

(My Hero Academia: Cancelled).

Hagakure Toru (Invisible Girl)

So, here’s the real question.

Is she naked?

Short answer: I dunno.

Funcionality: So she’s invisible, right? A good costume would emphasize that. I can only assume she wears the boots and gloves for comfort and so her allies can see where she is. If she wants to go full invisible, she just has to take them off. At one point, it was confirmed that she was topless during the sports festival, but we’ve had no further updates on her costume. A few people have theorized that her costume is made of her hair (assuming she has hair). We know that this is possible, as Mirio’s costume is made of his hair so he can remain clothed while his quirk is activated. The only issue would be making an outfit out of something you can’t see. If I were Toru, I would choose to fight nude because, I-uh...hmm, I-I can do what I want SHUT UP!

Design: There’s not much to critique here. The shade of blue on her gloves is cute, and the pink stripes don’t make much of an impact. The shoes are just about the most boring thing I’ve ever seen, like why are they beige??? What are they supposed to match? I just—ugh, beige??? What the fuck Horikoshi...smh.

Total Score: 5/10

Since we don’t know if the “hair-costume” thing is canon, I can’t rate it any higher. If that is true, it would be an 7/10. The outfit does its job, but I’m bored and beige sucks.

(Btw I don’t trust her...)

(Sketchy chick right here).

(Sketchy chick with some ugly-ass beige shoes).

Jirou Kyouka (Earphone Jack)

Aww.

She’s cute!

Look at her little face, d’awwwweeeeee!

Funcionality: The lovely Kyouka’s quirk (Earphone Jack), makes absolutely no sense to me. Like, I get that she can hear better and can eavesdrop really well, but how does she...make loud noises??? With the speakers??? Plugging earbuds into a speaker doesn’t make............noise, and the speakers aren’t part of her body. Whatever, back to the analysis. The speakers on her hands and calves amplify sound somehow, and her earlobes are exposed. It’s works.

Design: The speaker boots are basic, but acceptable. She’s got some comfy looking black pants, and a trendy salmon-colored top. Her jacket is iconic, and she’s wearing a choker. (+1,000,000 points for that). The white gloves don’t match shit, but they’re fingerless so I’ll let it slide. Her headphones almost match....meh. I don’t care. (+10 for the face paint).

Total Score: 8/10

Listen, I’d give her a 10 but this costume just isn’t....gimmicky, enough for me? She’s a superhero for fucksake! Now’s the time to dress your goddamn best! The look is practical, and seems to be her taste, I just disagree with her choices. Sue me. I’d either wanna fight in the wackiest most dangerous getup you’ve ever seen, or completely naked. Either way, I’m getting arrested. Jirou needs to get on my fucking level.

Uraraka Ochaco (Uravity)

I don’t know boys,

it seems like she might be...

round.

Fuck sharp angles!

Funcionality: Ochaco’s quirk (Zero Gravity) only requires her hands to work. More specifically, her fingertips. Uh, yeah those are some nude fingertips. *Ahem* moving on. Actually wait, since she often uses her quirk on herself it would be helpful for her to eliminate as much extra weight as possible, so I’m hoping that all of the accessories are hollow. They better be, or I’m gonna start throwing hands with Kohei Horikoshi.

Design: When Ochaco first got her hero costume she was surprised by how tight it was, even saying that it wasn’t supposed to be that tight. Bitch, how could it have been loose? I don’t...fuck it. I like the colors, I like the boots a lot actually, but who cares about that, I wanna talk about her fucking chastity belt. Who she keepin out? (Jesus Christ she’s a child, tone it down Mari). Do you think it’s comfortable to walk around with a chunk of plastic on your crotch?! I don’t know, seriously, is it? Maybe she’s trying to hide something...a hip dip perhaps?! Jk hip dips are stupid, that’s how bones work, don’t be ashamed. Her wrist...spheres... have handles on them, no comment, and whereas I usually LOVE chokers—that one is stupid and I hate it. Curvy little shit.

Total Score: 8/10

I like it overall, but some things are just too strange to overlook. (i.e. the chastity belt, wrist cuff handles, and the ugly choker). This costume doesn’t really scream Uraraka to me either. It’s a bit unoriginal to me.

I just don’t love it.

(Why are her fists clenched? Is she trying to fight? I could snap her like the twig she is and steal her girlfriend).

(Assuming she has one).

Yaoyorozu Momo (Creati)

Oohooohohohoho

hooohohoho

hoooooo mAN do I have some WORDS for this one!

Funcionality: Momo’s quirk (Creation) does require quite a bit of skin to be exposed, but I’m not sure why that skin HAS to be her boobs. She’s got thighs, a stomach, a back, an upper chest, and arms. Why do her Russian nesting dolls have to come out of her tiddies??? Okay, actually, she doesn’t make that many things with her tits. So....why’re they out? This costume definitely lets her quirk run wild, maybe too much.

Design: The red is pretty, and I can tolerate the sandy yellow. Her shoes are unimportant, so let’s just gloss over those. Now, WHAT is that thing? A makeshift, tan colored, plastic tube mini...skirt? I know she has a shelf on her ass that she carries books on, but doesn’t she have a cellphone? Google? Can’t she just remember the molecular make-up of a cannon? (Because she only makes cannons now for some reason). Have we ever even seen her reading those books? Can she read? A large portion of her midsection/chest is exposed up to another one of those weird chest pieces and a neck jacket. Maybe she should cut the neck coat off and glue it to her tiddies.

Total Score: 1/10

Listen, Horikoshi clearly understands what Momo’s costume needs, but he has no idea how to make that. This outfit IS inappropriate, no matter how you look at it. She’s a minor, and I don’t like the idea that she’s running around 75% naked. The only part of this that I like is the shade of red. That’s not good.

I really like Momo, she’s a good character, it’s unfortunate that we have to sexualize her so much. Can’t girls just be smart without also being eye candy for creepy 30 year old weebs?

——————

That’s it for this analysis. I plan on posting more stuff like this since I enjoy writing it so much! You should totally follow me so you don’t miss my future ramblings! 💖

Unless you hated it.

I wouldn’t blame you.

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weartirondad · 5 years

Text

Sorry (Is All That You Can Say)

Prompt “Bullying”: A case of bullying goes too far and Peter ends up in a hospital (not self-harm related, there is a real accident). He is unconscious so his friends visit and Tony and May try to get a clear picture of what happened but everyone has a different side ( @irondadgroupie)

FF.net I ao3

Ned

Oh man. Today really wasn’t his day.

It had started with a surprise chemistry quiz in first period and while Ned was anything but stupid, Chemistry really wasn’t his best subject and to get good grades he actually had to put effort in. Unlike some chemistry-genius-superhero he knew who had finished with ten minutes to spare.

Peter had aced the quiz, of course, and while he did try to look contrite during lunch it just wasn’t the same when he wasn’t as miserable as Ned felt. There seemed to be something else on his best friend’s mind all day that kept him from tapping into his empathy all the way to really get Ned’s distress.

Usually he would’ve asked but as it was, he was sulking about his own shitty day. He was allowed to those, right?

After lunch they had gym which, you know, just made everything worse in general because it was gym. There was no rope climbing today but the joy over the announcement quickly dissipated the second their teacher got out the basketballs.

Now that was just great.

Running around was not his thing. Least of all while having to dribble a stupid orange ball that he could swear had a mind of its own. And catching. Also not one of his talents. Or throwing for that matter. Why did this day have to rub everything he wasn’t good at in? Shouldn’t shit like that be evenly spread between a couple of days, if not months? Was fate really that cruel?

(Yes, maybe he was being a little dramatic.)

But gym was almost over and after that he could finally put an end to the horrible, awful, depressing portion of this day and move on to better and brighter things. Like math homework.

While Ned squatted down to get his water bottle he mindlessly rubbed his upper arm that had taken a hit from a stray basketball earlier in the game. Great, that was going to be another bruise. He was just preparing to take a sip when he heard a loud crash and then a few seconds of complete, terrifying silence.

Frowning he turned around to see what the ensuing commotion was about.

A crowd had started to form right next to their playing field on the other side of the hall. He could make out Emily yelling for the teacher who was already hurrying over towards them. Some other girls were squatting down next to whoever must have fallen and even MJ looked slightly worried and kind of angry which were more emotions than she usually showed anyone.

That was his first hint that something was wrong.

Instinctually Ned tried to make out Peter in the crowd, expecting his friend to be on the side lines as long as he wasn’t actively needed.

Even before the spider bite crowds of screaming people had tended to get to him and Ned was worried about him slipping into another sensory-overload-induced-anxiety attack. He only got more worried when he couldn’t find him anywhere.

Pushing himself back up, the sweat dripping from his forehead to the floor almost making him slip in the process, he started running towards his classmates. His sneakers squeaked hitting the linoleum floor, his heart that hadn’t yet calmed down from the game earlier was now threatening to jump out of his chest and his lungs were screaming but he didn’t pay his body any mind because the longer he went without getting a visual on his stupid best friend the more anxious he got.

Surely Peter wouldn’t… No, he was a superhero! He wouldn’t just collapse in gym class. That was a thing that could’ve happened to pre-bite Peter who always forgot his inhaler. The scrawny teenager that could barely finish the first lapse and refused to hand in his doctor’s note so he wouldn’t have to. It would not happen to this crazy enhanced version of his best friend who jumped from skyscrapers and did back flips for shits and giggles.

No way.

He pushed past Flash and his idiot friends, only noting in passing that the boy seemed a lot more subdued than he had before. Maybe someone tripping in gym could get even an asshole like Flash to shut up for once in his life.

Once he got to the heart of the commotion, though, the thought completely slipped his mind because there, on the floor, lay his idiot best friend. Unnervingly unmoving, eyes closed and with blood slowly leaking from the brown mob of curls.

Holy crap.

“What the hell happened?”

He didn’t really hear the answer to the question, too preoccupied with his unconscious friend. He only gave himself five seconds to internally freak out before he dropped down next to him and started shaking him, trying to get him to wake up. Without success.

Okay, Ned. Think, think, thin –

Mister Stark!

Mister Stark always made Peter call him when he was hurt. Surely Iron-Man would be able to help, right?

His left hand was resting on Peter’s chest as gently as possible while he started flailing his right to the side. “Get me Peter’s phone. Right now,” he yelled at whoever was standing closest to him.

He could do this. He just had to call Mister Stark and the man would know what to do. He would get Peter to wake back up. He would get the best doctors to help Peter. Everything was going to be okay.

Everything was going to be okay.

It had to be.

“How’s he doing?”

Her voice sounded foreign in her own ears. Too quiet, too unsure in the empty hall that led to the school’s emergency room. She had disliked hospitals ever since visiting her grandma after a surgery and this part of the building looked enough like one to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and a shiver run down her spine even though she wasn’t really cold. That didn’t stop the chilly feeling in her bones, though.

She tried not to show how uncomfortable she was as she plopped down on one of the seats, leaving another empty between her and Ned who was still in his gym clothes that were clinging to his sweaty skin.

The boy looked up from where he had been staring at his fidgeting hands and tried to send her something akin to a smile. It was more of a grimace than anything else but she could appreciate that he tried to put her at ease.

“He’s going to be okay. The paramedics are prepping him for transport.” He sighed and suddenly looked lost, where his exuberant nature usually filled every room he was in. He was a lot like Peter in that way but with a pure lightness that came from not having experienced any personal tragedies yet. Hesitantly she reached out to give his shoulder what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze before awkwardly letting her hand drop back down to her lap.

Ned looked thankful regardless.

“Mister Stark wanted to get him transferred to the Tower but the emergency doctor said it’s safer to bring him to a hospital with a department for neurosurgery. Just in case,” he trailed off with another sigh. “They don’t know what’s going on inside his head yet but since he hit it somehow they’re suspecting a contusion. Which isn’t too bad at least from what I googled. They’ll be running a CT scan when they’re at the hospital and Mister Stark promised to call as soon as there are any news.”

“He’s going to be okay,” she tried sounding optimistic, something she didn’t usually put much effort into, “I’m guessing Stark won’t let him be anything else. He’s gonna get the best doctors money can buy.”

She realized with a start that she wasn’t even mad about some billionaire having access to better medical care right then. She had watched said billionaire rush into the building, clad in a three piece suit that probably matched the important meeting he had been called out of, his usually flawlessly styled hair a mess and he had looked as worried as she felt. If not more.

There had been a sort of fire in his eyes that she hadn’t believed him capable of. Something fierce and unconditionally loving. He had made no pretense that he would do anything to make this better and that made her like him just a wee bit more.

“Yeah,” Ned agreed, not picking up on her inner musings about the man both him and Petr idolized more than she thought people should be idolized. “Helen Cho is already on her way from California.”

The way he said it, like it was no big deal that one of the most renown medical doctors in the world had just dropped everything to fly out to New York to look after a random teenager was nothing unheard of, made her pause. Even if said teenager was Tony Stark’s mentee.

She frowned. “Does she do that often?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Mister Stark goes a little over board sometimes,” he told her, corners of his lips twitching upwards ever so slightly. “He made her come here to treat Peter when he had the flu last month. But I think she likes him or she wouldn’t be doing it. That reminds me-”

Michelle cocked her head to the side when he stopped midsentence, encouraging him to keep going.

“Uh, Mister Stark and the paramedics asked me what happened and I realized that I – I didn’t even know.” His voice dropped down to a whisper. “I was on the other side of the gym and I only got there when he was already unconscious and –“

“Flash tripped him,” she interrupted his rambling, flinching inwardly at how detached it sounded when she felt anything but.

Suddenly there was a surge of anger in her chest, pushing her worry to the side as she sat up straighter. Anger was easier to focus on than concern. She hated being the scared and helpless girl it turned her into. “He held out his leg on purpose when Peter was getting off the field and collecting the last balls to help clean up and he could see that he wasn’t looking so, like the asshole he is, he tripped him.”

“Figures,” Ned sighed again.

She really hated how often he made that sound. It sounded too much like he was okay with this, as if that’s just a thing that happened and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Why aren’t you angry?” she all but snapped, “That piece of … Flash keeps bullying the two of you and you’re never doing anything about it! You just let it happen! And now Peter’s unconscious because that – that asshole tripped him on purpose. How are you not livid?”

Her heart was thumping uncomfortably loudly in her chest when she met Ned’s gaze that had snapped up some time during her rant. She didn’t know what she had expected but it hadn’t been the flash of indignation in his eyes and the grim line his mouth was set in.

“You want to know why I’m not angry?” he repeated incredulously, voice slow and quiet and so very different from what she was used to from Ned Leeds.

A part of her realized then that she had stepped out of line. They weren’t friends after all. She didn’t do friends.

“I’m going out of my mind with worry for my best friend,” he told her steadily but his voice started rising, “I’m scared shitless that it might be real bad and of course I’m angry. I’m angry whenever Flash starts bullying Peter. I hate that there’s nothing he ever does about it but I’ve known Peter long enough to know that he prefers it this way.”

“Wha –“

“No,” he cut her off with a wave of his hand and, jumping to his feet, he started pacing in the narrow hallway. “He prefers being Flash’s favorite victim because that way he doesn’t go looking for someone else. And of course that’s messed up but try telling the idiot that. There’s nothing I can do to change his mind. You know what I can do, though?”

It sounded like a rhetorical question so she didn’t answer even when he kept glaring at her.

“I can be his friend and pick him up when Flash’s teasing does get to him. I can be his best friend and spend time with him and make sure he knows that that’s just one bully talking and that he’s none of the things getting thrown in his face. And that’s hard and it’s an unfair world and it makes me so mad but he deserves to have someone in his corner. So I do that, every day. Because he’s my best friend and I love this stupid self-sacrificing idiot. But you don’t get to lecture me about not being angry enough when he’s hurt because you do none of that.”

Ned seemed to inflate after his outburst, continuing with a soft and tired voice and she felt hot red shame creep into her cheeks.

“You might not be bullying him like Flash does but you aren’t nice to us either. You call us losers and barely glance at us and I know you consider us friends and it’s your warped up way of showing you care but sometimes he just needs someone to be nice who genuinely cares for him. Like today, he was already having a bad day and I didn’t.. I didn’t ask him about it. Maybe he would’ve seen it coming if I had helped him before.”

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, anger vanished only leaving shame and regret that filled her whole being. Ned was right. “I’m sorry.”

He smiled softly, a small raise of the corner of his lips, eyes open and gentle and not condemning like she felt they should be. “You don’t have to apologize. Just… think about it, will you? He doesn’t blame you, you know. And I’m just… I’m really glad he has Mister Stark in his corner now, too.”

And that – that Tony Stark, the man she made out to be the Anti-Christ more often than not, the spoiled billionaire, the poster child of emotionally constipated had gotten his head out of his ass before she had to openly care about Peter Parker – that stung.

“I’m glad he has him, too.”

Tony

There were two opposing parts battling for dominance in Tony’s body at the moment.

The one that had been there all his life, hectic and jittery and unable to stand still when it counted. It had his entire being screaming to pace in the small hospital room, to release the tension by doing something, anything at all. He felt like every fiber, every cell, was moving on a speed so high they were effectively vibrating, making his hands shake and heart flutter when he didn’t comply with the motion.

The other part was currently winning.

This part was a new, barely-there, still opening bud but for how young it was, it was all-encompassing and inevitable. It made his muscles cramp with the need to comfort and protect and it wouldn’t let him move even an inch from where he was standing at the top of the bed in the intensive care unit of some Midtown hospital that held his single most prized possession. His fingers were itching to run through the messy curls but he wouldn’t relent, too scared to jostle any of the devices currently attached to the kid.

The kid - Peter, his Peter - looked impossibly small in the large bed surrounded by beeping machines, countless IV stands and devices Tony wasn’t completely sure what they were supposed to do but also didn’t care about.

Much like Tony he was still, too.

Unnaturally still for an enhanced teenager that could talk for hours on end without missing a beat, who would make Tony lose his mind with his hyper nature that had him almost topple from whatever he was sitting on every other day and who went slinging through New York in his free time.

So he made do, yielding to the ever-growing parental instincts in his chest, and rested his hand on his kid’s arm, thumb brushing over the warm skin in an effort to soothe him even though he knew there were so many drugs running through his system that the touch would most likely not even register.

Waiting in hospital rooms with nothing to do, no way to fix a thing, never did get easier he had come to realize. There was always an internal struggle of whether to be mad or relieved, devastated or thankful, glum or hopeful.

A timid knock on the door made him snap out of his spinning thoughts, mind quickly running through possible intruders – friend or foe – and coming to a standstill when a teenager that wasn’t Ned poked his head past the door. The unfamiliar boy’s eyes went wide and hadn’t he been so emotionally drained, Tony would’ve scoffed at the ridiculousness of the scene. As it was he just squeezed Peters hand more tightly in a wordless promise, a silent vow to protect.

“Can I help you?”

“I, uh, I’m sorry, I, uh, didn’t, uh, didn’t mean to- to intrude, sir,” the boy stammered, hand curling around the door so tightly his knuckles were turning white. “I was just, uh, but, I mean.. I’m just gonna… gonna go, sir.”

“Wait.” Tony stopped him before the kid could turn around and flee the scene. Something seemed to be on that boy’s mind and it seemed important enough to make the trip to the hospital, find out the kid’s room number and muster up the courage to come see him when they evidently weren’t close friends. “Are you here to see Peter?”

“Ye- yes,” came the reply, almost a whisper before he suddenly seemed to be reminded of something, straightened his back and cleared his throat. “Yes, sir.”

It reminded Tony so much of himself at that age, with Howard’s voice always in his head telling him to stand tall, speak clearly, act strong and demand respect, that he had to mentally take a step back from the scene and the onslaught of memories of being constantly afraid to focus on the boy at hand.

This was new, too, embracing the innate empathy that had been buried deeply by an ingrained need to deflect. He tried not to dwell on how natural it felt, how satisfyingly fulfilling, and instead decided to blame it completely on the unconscious teenager whose heartrate gave him a calming beat to focus on.

“Come on in, then. What’s your name?” he asked him, the hand that wasn’t holding on to his kid running through his own hair in a futile attempt to sort it. Paired with a crinkled suit and deep lines of worry marring his face this was admittedly not his best look.

There had been moments in his life when he would’ve cared about his appearance in a public hospital but his priorities had shifted drastically since then. Sometimes it felt that everything had shifted until a teenager from Queens had become the new axis of his world. The one thing everything else was circling around. The sun of his galaxy.

“Eugene, sir. Eugene Thompson.”

Tony watched closely as he shut the door behind very carefully before turning around to face the bed. He seemed unsure of himself, hands tugging on designer sleeves, eyes darting all over the room, never resting anywhere for too long, always avoiding to look at either of the other men.

Something in his tired brain had peeked up at the name but it took him an embarrassingly long moment to match the boy’s unease and name with a fitting story. He started clenching his hands to fists involuntarily, anger roaring in his chest, before his new instinct took over and he forcefully relaxed his grip on Peter.

Peter was his priority.

“You’re Flash, aren’t you? You’re the one who put him here.”

“I –“ For a moment the offender seemed at a loss for words, caught, and he was looking like he was about to bolt through the door but then, in the time it took Tony to blink, his entire demeanor changed. Flash met his gaze, shoulders hunched, wide eyes turning glassy and hands falling to his sides unmoving. “Yes, sir. It’s my fault he’s here and I wanted to say that I’m sorry. I never meant to actually hurt him, I–“

“But you did, didn’t you?” Tony interrupted, protectiveness flaring up in his chest and making way for the anger he had been trying to breathe through. This boy, this child was the reason his kid had to be pumped to the rim with anesthesia so they could drill a hole into his skull to monitor his intracranial pressure. And he was right here. Right in front of Tony and he wasn’t fighting back.

“What did you think would happen when you tripped someone? That they start flying and end the grandiose routine with a bow to a round of applause?” he spat, vision turning red and dark and gruesome. “Tell me, Flash, what did you think would happen? What were you hoping to achieve?”

The boy flinched at the harsh words but didn’t back away in the slightest, just hung his head and murmured another apology, taking it all in.

And, dammit, Tony knew he deserved to be called out and by god he wanted to be the one to do it because he had hurt Peter. There was something in the way he stood, though, that made him stop in his tracks. It put his anger on hold, something like recognition making the blood rush in his head.

That boy looked like he had expected the harsh words and while he had flinched when Tony had raised his voice at first, he had adapted quickly and hadn’t even tried to move away. The only sign of self-defense were his arms that twitched at his side as if they were itching to cover his face.

Suddenly Tony was incredibly tired. His head was spinning, he felt dizzy and guilty and broken down to the very core.

“Flash,” he tried more calmly this time, rubbing a hand over the scar on his chest and trying to swallow past the distaste the name elicited in his mouth and beckoning him closer to the bed. When he followed suit, he watched him settle his gaze on Peter’s skinny frame, eyes roaming the various monitors before settling on the pale face.

“Tell me what you see,” he prompted the teenager whose gaze snapped up, brows furrowed. He looked even more confused now that Tony wasn’t yelling anymore and Tony the worst thing about that was that he understood.

All of the sudden he ached for the reassuring contact of Peter curled into his side, breathing and happy and alive, to keep the demons from entering his mind but tried to push it away, had to push it away.

“I, uh,” Flash swallowed, “I see Pe – Peter Parker in a hospital bed and I see that it’s my fault, sir.” The last part was barely more than a whisper, guilt heavy on his tongue.

Tony nodded, not meeting Flash’s searching gaze in favor of watching Peter. “Do you know what I see?”

“No, sir.”

He looked up then, trying to convey how much he meant every word, keeping his gaze open and not threatening. “I see the strongest kid I’ve ever met.” Quite literally, he didn’t say though the thought made his lips twitch. “I see a genius-level smart kid, well on his way to surpass me one of these days. I see a kid who is always smiling, who doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and who cares so damn much about everyone around him. I see a kid who has seen more than a kid his age should have and who has lost more than you can imagine but who refuses to become a cynical asshole because of it.”

Not like I did. He’s already so much better than I could ever be.

He squeezed Peter’s hand, breath hitching when he didn’t squeeze back.

“Did you know he told me about you?”

“No, sir.” There was a flash of fear in the boy’s eyes then and while it satisfied a very feral part of Tony he also despised being the one to put it there. He had made a vow many years ago to never install that kind of fear in a child.

“He didn’t want to, either. I had to tickle it out of him when he got home an hour late after detention sporting a bruise because he supposedly got into a fight. Do you know what he told me?”

“N- no, sir.” Tony watched his whole body turn rigid, observed how his gaze never wavered from his and how his hands tremble. Despite himself, he tried to shoot him a reassuring smile.

“He told me you were having a rough time and how your mum was close to tears the last time she picked you up and how you were holding your shoulder funny. He stopped me from taking a suit, blast your house and tell you exactly what I think of people shoving my kid into lockers,” he told him, trying to keep his voice even and without a trace of malice.

“Tha- I’m not sure what –“

He decided to give the fidgety teenager a moment to sort his thoughts and took the time to brush a few loose curls from his own teenager’s forehead. The motion was familiar, calming and it gave him the strength to press on.

“The thing is,” he sighed, hand still resting on Peter’s forehead as if he was trying to summon the boy’s goodness, “I understand shitty family. I get scary fathers and crying mums,” he swallowed hard and met Flash’s gaze again. “I know weird bruises you can’t explain away.”

“I – I don’t – I’m not –”

“Yeah, neither am I,” Tony scoffed before softening his gaze and trying to school his voice into a stern but kind tone. “What I’m trying to say - and believe me I’m bad at this and would rather be doing anything else - is that while I get why you are acting out, I want you to know that I won’t let this happen ever again. I will not let you keep tormenting my kid because you’re having a tough life. I will not stand by and let you ruin his days and land him in hospitals, are we understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

They stood quietly together for a while, the atmosphere in the room while not exactly comfortable wasn’t dripping with fear and anger anymore. It was calm, peaceful. Like the sea after a storm.

To Tony’s surprise it was Flash who broke the silence. “I thought he saw me and – and I thought he saw me putting out my leg for him to trip over. I- I thought he’d just, stumble and drop the balls I- I never wanted – I’m so sorry, Mister Stark.”

The older man nodded, the sigh he let out feeling like every piece of resentment he had carried for decades on his chest. “I appreciate that but it’s not me you should apologize to.”

“I know but,” there was a heavy pause, “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he replied because he did, “but you don’t have to be. Not of him. As much as I hate how gullible he is sometimes, if you apologize to Peter he will forgive you, no questions asked. And if you start being a decent human being you might even find a friend in him. I think you could need good people in your life, and Peter is the best.”

“Thank you, sir,” Flash whispered, “For- for your words and, uh, for not blasting my house.”

Tony looked up and grinned. “You’re welcome but don’t do it again or I still might.”

Peter

When Peter woke up it took him a lot longer than it normally would to realize that this wasn’t the setting he usually woke up in.

His head was angled in a way that when he did manage to pry his clotty eye lids open the first thing he saw was his mentor. Blinking he tried to clear his view of the man who hadn’t yet realized his charge was awake and whose gaze was fixated on a spot to Peter’s right with a heavy hand resting on the boy’s arm.

Mindful of the buzzing in his head he tried a smile. “Hi T’ny.”

“Kid?” The heavy hand tightened around his arm before loosening and rubbing a calloused thumb over his skin. A silent welcome back.

“Oh baby.” A soothing voice on his left and a delicate touch of a familiar hand. Aunt May. Her voice alone eased his headache tremendously

“Dude!” It sounded a little breathless, a little forced- cheerful and impossibly relieved. His heart warmed at hearing his best friend’s voice and he was about to reply when he picked up two other voices.

“Peter?”

He blinked again, moving his head as slowly as possible to make out the people they belonged to, grateful when May’s hand found his forehead and her cool fingers started running through his hair.

MJ and Flash were standing at the foot of his bed, both looking confusingly contrite and his brain was too tired, too fuzzy to come up with a good enough explanation as to why but he figured since they were the ones at his hospital bed he was entitled to ask.

“Whataya doin’ here?”

It wasn’t that he was scared of them, uncomfortable was probably a better word or self-conscious maybe, but he was tired, he was hurting and he really, childishly just didn’t want to deal with any of that right now.

He had his family on his side, though. Tony to his left, May to his right with Ned next to her. They were shielding him, literally and metaphorically, from anything that might be thrown his way and he felt himself somewhat relax once that thought had settled in.

His classmates seemed to have come to the same conclusion and for a change they were the ones who looked self-conscious when they exchanged a look. (Since when did MJ exchange a look with Flash? Maybe this was a fever dream.)

“We wanted to apologize,” they said in unison again and hadn’t he been so sure that his aunt’s and mentor’s touch were real he would’ve bet on this being a fantasy. Not just because they were so in tune but also… since when did they apologize? What were they apologizing for?

Almost as if they’d read his mind, they continued.

“I haven’t been very nice to you.” MJ said, fidgeting with the sketch book in her hands “I see you as a friend and I realized that I shouldn’t treat my friends like that so… I’m sorry.” She paused, meeting Peter’s gaze and he smiled again, about to tell her that it’s okay when she plowed ahead, taking a step forward as she pulled a page from her sketch book and gave it to him.

It was a picture of Ned and him during lunch time. They were both laughing, bend over their respective meals with a juice box sitting between them. “Nerds are cool” was written down in neat handwriting in the center.

“And I’m sorry, too.”

Before he had the chance to react to the nice gesture, Flash took over, voice rushed.

“For.. for everything,” the words caught in his throat, “For landing you here and for being an asshole and making you miserable for no reason. I’m – I’m gonna stop doing that, I promise.” With that he stuck out his hand which Peter, completely taken aback, took and shook.

“It’s okay, guys,” he tried with a crooked voice that hurt his throat, “Apologies accepted and… thank you.”

He frowned then, a thought occurring to him and he turned his head to look at his mentor.

“Was Doctor Strange here?”

At that Tony barked out a laugh, his eyes twinkling with mirth and gentleness when his hand replaced his aunt’s to ruffle his hair. “No, for once our strange friend had nothing to do with this.”

So not a different dimension then.

He wouldn’t rule out the fever dream quite yet but for the time being he was content and tired enough to just take what they said at face value. He would probably worry about it some other time. Right now he was surrounded by his family and not-enemies-might-be-friends and that was good enough for him.

#irondad #iron dad #irondad fic #iron dad fic #tony stark #peter parker #michelle jones #ned leeds #flash thompson #bullying #1k followers celebration #josis fic #sorry (is all that you can say)

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sallyface-incorrect · 5 years

Text

The Struggles of Having ADHD

- Only Being able to sleep either 2 hours or 16, there’s no in between. I am legit typing this at 3:02 am because I can’t sleep and I haven’t slept that much and it sucks. Summer is for sleeping, not for stress.

- Not being able to remember basic information about someone like their name, but being able to remember that they once told you that their great great aunt had a mole on her foot the shape of Texas. True story btw, sorry Amber.

- Feeling like your being rejected if your friend can’t make it to hang out with you because of family reasons. RSD is a bitch. Like the tiniest thing can make you feel rejected. Ie, your mom telling you not to be so loud, someone asking why your sneezes are so loud, someone asking you to return their pen, etc.

- Having your medication ware off/forgetting to take it and being the most annoying bitch in the galaxy. I once went on a school trip and my meds wore off and I ended up spending the 2 hour bus ride back annoying the guy who was trying to sleep in front of me, again, I am so sorry Max.

- IDK if it’s just me but, chewing on literally everything. Bottle caps, paper, fabric, rubber (my favorite), and much more. I used to get punished all the time for chewing on things I wasn’t supposed to. Nail biting is also a big thing. And so is hair chewing.

- Being told “You’re too smart to have ADHD”. Well Susan, I have a neurological devolpmental disorder, I’m not retarded.

- Either giving too much information or not enough when in conversation, and also bringing up really irrelevant things in the conversation like, I know we’re talking about the Louisiana Perchance but can I tell you about this one time it rained and I saw a snail?

- Being botherd by loud and/or repetitive noises. Pen clicking and high pitched sirens make me want to scream. They suckkk harder then Travis wants to suck Sal’s dick. And the worse is when people think you’re weird or that you have a problem with them for asking. I understand you like to click your pen and I’m so sorry it’s just so loud...

- Being afraid of your friends rejecting you. Again, RSD is a bitch. Like you’re afraid that one day your bestie will get up and leave and never come back and it’s all your fault and you suck and ughhhhhh. You’re also afraid their s/o / parents hate you and one day they’ll convince them to just leave you.

- Medication is a godsend but it’s also problematic. The stuff that I take fucks up my sleep schedule, my appetite, and make me tired and nauseous. It also gives me headaches and belly aches :(

- Either being so hungry that you also eat everything in your fridge or being so not hungry that even the concept of food disgust you. And sometimes, you even throw up because food is so gross and you’re gross and all that gross is inside you and eww.

- Intense, powerful migraines. They get worse in the winter months. Last year I took almost a week off of school because my migraines got worse and worse and worse and I couldn’t do it.

- Having no measurement of personal space or how to physically interact with someone. I just said hi, do I hug you, do I high five you, idk? Like idk how many potential friendships I’ve fucked up because I was too handsey.

- Being really particular about the type of clothing I wear. I love LOVE long sleeve shirts/ sweatshirts/ sweaters/ hoodies and shorts. I also love to wear socks around the house. I hate HATE wearing socks with shoes though, it makes me anxious. I also hate wearing certain types of pants. I literally only have 2 - 3 pairs of pants I’ll wear because pants sometimes feel like a tent and I hate that.

- Not being able to loose weight. I’m not fat, or chubby, I mean I have abs for God’s sake! It’s just that I have thick ass thigh I h a t e and I wish I could just get rid of them but my medication prevents me from loosing all that weight. On the bright side, I can eat a lot and not gain weight either.

- Having certain little routines you can’t skip. For example, every morning I must shave my legs and brush my hair or the world will end. I also must have all the doors and windows closed or else I’m gonna scream.

- Also idk if this is a problem for anyone else but doors and windows being open. I can’t stand it, I mean please, I don’t care that you’re just coming up for 1 thing but p l e a s e for the love of g o d, close the door that leads to upstairs. Having it open just isn’t right.

- Hyperfixiating on something for soo long that you forget to do basic hygiene like shower, use the bathroom, brush your hair, brush your teeth. It can get you in really big trouble but at least the job is done.

- Having a comfort item. Like I have this stuffed lamb whose name is “Lambchop” but I call “Lambie” and I sleep with them each and every night and carry them around the house with me when I’m home and if I’m upset I NEED to cuddle them bacuse it’s the only thing that will make the world go away.

- Being insanely good at certain academics and shitty at others. For example, when I was in 5th grade I was reading at an undergrad level and had the ability to understand science concepts a senior would be learning but my math was at the level of a second graders.

- Idk how to describe it but like, doing movements half way and the forgetting about them. Like this one time I was at a piano recital and I went to reach for something and forgot what I was reaching for so I just kinda held my hand up in a grabbing motion for half a song and then forgot about it until my mom reminded me to put it down.

- Not being able to understand that people don’t want to hear about your hyperfixiation. I’ve had 2 cases of this in my life, my “ghosts are definitely really and now this is my only personality triat” and my “I’m not a weeb but Tokyo Ghoul is so good now let me tell you all about the plot.” (Tokyo Ghoul gang REPRESENT)

- Having 3 different moods, hyperactive, normal, and cold. Like you’re normal most of the time but sometimes you’re sooo hyper that your an entirely different person, or sometimes you’re sooo distant you’re a different person too.

- Not being able to identify your emotions very well. Like, this guy just told me that my dad and my bestie are asshole who deserve to die in a fire, what am I feeling? Am I sad? Angry? Scared? Do I think this is funny? Am I gonna laugh? Cry? Idk, throw hands? Or the dreaded crush. Do I have feelings for this person or do I just want to be really good friends? Do I hate them? Love them? Am I gonna cry the next time I see them? Last time we hung out was fun but idk???

- Also like I mentioned, romance/sexuality is hard. Last time I dated I dated this guy I really liked, or at least I thought I did. We dated for three months before I blew it off because he asked to put his arm around me and it was weird when I said yes. Also sexuality. Idk if this is a problem for anyone else or just my bisexual ass. Like it’s so hard and I really like guys but hey, girls are hot. And like I like guys more than girls?? Sometime it makes me feel really fake.

- Really enhanced weird hearing. I know at least 80% of my classes drama because I have superhearing and I’m a literal hearing god bow down, bitch. I can hear the smallest of sounds and such, but for some goddamn reason I can’t understand how loud I’m being.

- Extestensial nihilism and just being cool about it. Like, dude, idk if there’s a god out there? I’d like to think there’s some sort of Devine power and we have a purpose but idk, we probably don’t have a purpose. I mean, we’ll be forgotten after we die anyway unless we’re Tom Holland. And love probably doesn’t exist either and it’s only stigmatized by movies and books and media and we’re all gonna get married and be miserable for ever and such. But like does it really even matter? In the end we’re all alone so go off I guess.

- Being really sensitive to smell. Certain smells drive me through the roof. For example, I have an extreme fish allergy and even smelling the slightest hint a salmon can give me a migraine so intense I think I’m dying. Or essential oils. Ughh I hate those. They send me through the roof.

- Being able to remember something you heard in a YouTube video you watched back when you were nine but not being able to remember when you birthday is some days because it really be like that.

- Being really good with little kids. Idk if everyone is like this but I am very childish myself and little kids love me. I have at least 3 little boys in 1st - 3rd grade who think I’m their girlfriend and 8 little girls in kindergarten - 5th grade who think I’m their big sister, it’s really sweet.

- Always apologizing is a big thing for me. When I was a child I used to get in trouble for saying sorry when I did anything and that carried to teen hood. Last year at my dance class my teacher noticed this and tried to help me break my habit god bless you Christine.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk bois. ADHD sucks but I know you can do it👌🏻

#aaa i know this doesn’t fit this blog’s aesthetic #i just felt like making it #sorry guys #not a quote #adhd #add #adhd rsd #adhd inattentive #adhd awareness #tw mental health #mental health

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ephemeral-afterlight · 4 years

Note

Hngh I want to know what happens next in superhero au so bad

previous part

they have a lair. they have an actual, real life lair. a superhero lair hidden underground about a mile outside the city, underneath an old factory that virgil wouldn't have looked twice at had he not been lead by the others through the gate. in the doors, down hallways, through yet another gate, down a long, long flight of spiral stairs, into a dark room, through a locked mechanical door that whirs open courtesy of codebreaker, and into the huge room that looks like something straight out of a science fiction movie. they have a lair, in 2019. virgil feels like he's just stepped straight into an alternate dimension.

"sit," the ringleader tells him as he walks by, cane tapping and echoing in the huge room at slow, uniform intervals. virgil’s wide-eyed wonder draws a giggle from the medic, of whom comes up to him with a hop in his step and peers at him with knowing eyes. he leans forward with his hands clasped behind his back, rolling back and forth from the ball of his foot to the heel in giddiness. his skirt swishes with the motion, seemingly just as lively as the man himself is, and virgil finds it almost comforting despite the simultaneous annoyance at the cheery disposition.

“want some nutrient-infused water? it’s got lots of vitamins and stuff that’s good for you in it! and it tastes like strawberries!” the medic asks, not stopping to wait for virgil’s answer before producing a small bottle the size of his palm from the inside of his cape. at first, virgil wonders incredulously if he keeps little water bottles hidden in tiny cape pockets for spur-of-the-moment use, but then the medic sticks his fist out to drop the bottle into virgil’s hand and his cape flutters open to reveal something that looks like a fanny pack strapped to his chest just above the bottom of his ribcage. it has a heart and cross symbol identical to the ones on his waist and shoes, and virgil realizes that it must be some sort of first aid kit or medical pack.

“oh, uh--” virgil starts, about to decline, but the small frown that forms on the medic’s face makes him feel too guilty to pass it up. with a laboured sigh, virgil accepts the bottle, bringing it up closer to his face to examine it. it looks pretty normal, like water that’s lightly tinted pink. the bottle itself is more like a vial, just without the rounded bottom. this could easily be poison, but they are superheroes, and virgil doubts that heroes would go as far as to try to kill him, even if they’re not completely convinced he’s not their enemy.

as virgil pops the cap off sinks into the chair the ringleader provided him, the scent of the water wafts up toward him almost immediately. it’s potent, but it doesn’t smell bad, necessarily. artificial strawberry assaults his senses, overpowering him in a way that reminds him of the awful, cavity-inducing candies he used to steal from his grandma’s purse and munch on when he was younger. it’s not exactly like how he’d expect poison or chemicals to smell, but then again, a lot of poison isn’t supposed to smell like anything, so.

even though he really, really doesn’t want to drink this stuff, the medic is staring him down expectantly, bright blue puppy dog eyes boring into his soul. it’s like those eyes have picked him up and laid him in clouds, pulled a warm blanket over him and wished him goodnight. a crackling fireplace, hot chocolate and marshmallows, fuzzy socks and hardwood floors and fluffy rugs. it’s like looking into his eyes washes all of his worry away, like they pull out all of his sorrow and hardship and leave him with only pure warmth, and virgil realizes with a jolt that he’s already downed the whole bottle without even feeling it.

upon seeing the now-drained bottle in his hand, empty save for a few trace amounts of leftover liquid, virgil winces. he waits for something to go wrong, to feel a burning in his throat or a headache or to faint or even for him to just flat-out die, but there’s none of that. just the effluvious tang of an offensive mockery of strawberry flavouring coating his mouth and throat. virgil wrinkles his nose and glares at the clear bottle as if it personally threatened him.

“hey, med, come check the counter with me, ‘kay?” the prince says suddenly, an unreadable look flashing in his golden eyes as he watches the two of them before being masked by friendliness when his gaze meets virgil’s own. virgil’s suspicion goes nowhere, seemingly dissolves into thin air when the medic lays a comforting hand on his shoulder through the dark cloak. his touch almost burns with warmth, infuses him with calm, and virgil’s lashes flutter under the weight of his sudden onslaught of sleepiness. then the medic is gone, disappears through another one of those weird high-tech spaceship doors with the prince, and the haze over virgil’s mind slowly begins to clear.

“you say you are not the storm. who are you, then?” the codebreaker suddenly speaks up, smooth voice drifting over from his spot at some sort of panel. it glows brightly, so blinding virgil can’t make out any kind of images or words that it might display, and yet codebreaker somehow seems to be interacting with it effortlessly. he floats there in front of it despite there being a chair right beside him, back hunched and knees pulled up to his chest. his head is tilted, rests on his shoulders as if he’s too weary to hold it up, and his eyes only flit to virgil once before returning to observe the panel in front of him through his hologram face-screen thingy.

“don’t look at the console for too long. it’s not healthy. code-y over there is the only one who can actually see what’s on it. his holovisor has some sort of light filter, or something,” the ringmaster remarks to virgil’s left, leaning on his cane with an air of boredom that virgil doesn’t think is very fair to display. he inspects his nails like he has somewhere better to be, but he’s wearing gloves, so it just ends up making him look weird. then again, the michievous look in his eyes has a hint of knowing to it, so maybe he’s trying to look stupid on purpose just to fuck with him.

“i’m… my name is virgil. im just a guy, man. like i said, i work at a shitty job and still live with my parents. i’m not some… crazy evil supervillain,” virgil tells them, and funnily enough, that desperation he’s been feeling this entire time seems to have completely vanished. he’s wary, but not afraid, which is completely different to how he was feeling just thirty minutes ago.

“virgil altera, born to a liliana altera and a harold whitman. mother is an authour who hasn’t been published in nine years, father is the ceo of an insurance company. you were kidnapped from a local park at age four and stayed missing for five years, until you randomly turned up wandering along a highway outside of a town hundreds of miles away. you were badly beaten and starved, yet were somehow able to walk almost perfectly despite your dangerous condition. you remembered nothing about where you had been, and there was no trail to determine the assailant or where they took you. the case went cold, you returned to your parents, and you were enrolled in middle school by the next year. you graduated from high school with no notable achievements, started working as an office temp, and have been presumably been doing the same thing ever since. an odd story for someone who claims to be a ‘normal guy’, don’t you think?”

okay then. so the codebreaker can just somehow get his whole life story in a matter of seconds. it’s fine. this is fine.

the ringleader raises his brow, the one that’s visible, and lets out a disbelieving snort. “kidnapped? beaten? starved? sounds like a villain backstory to me.”

“yes, well. i suppose we should hear from virgil first before making any rash decisions,” the codebreaker says, finally looking up from the screen and straight at him. virgil draws in on himself, pulse quickening with the amount of information they have on him this easily. the chair is hard underneath his legs, of which are slowly going numb, and virgil can feel the air slowly getting colder as his panic increases. neither of them seem to notice, or if they do, they don’t mention it. the ringleader taps a foot impatiently while virgil just stares, silent and fidgety as he tries to figure out what to say.

“i… i don’t really remember any-- any of that stuff. well, i kinda remember walking on the highway, and someone taking me to a police station, but not the-- not anything before that. i’ve tried so hard to remember but the most i got with my therapist was the word ‘hens’ printed on some sort of paper. that’s really all i remember, i promise,” virgil mutters, swallowing hard under the ringleader’s icy look. the codebreaker says nothing, only narrows his eyes slightly as if he’s contemplating something, and then he turns right back around with his coat flapping behind him as he resumes his position at the bright panel. the ringleader huffs once and rolls his eyes, leaning forward and hoisting himself up onto the raised platform the console resides on instead of walking around to the other side and using the set of stairs there.

the two seem to talk in hushed tones to each other, ignoring virgil’s presence completely, something that both irritates him and relieves him. although he wishes they’d stop being so secretive and just tell him what’s going on and how to fix it, he much prefers the disregard than the intense scrutiny. it gives him a moment to breathe, to try to rein in his frustration and panic. instead of speaking up, he decides to look around the room again, takes in the rows and rows of screens and buttons and switches. it all looks extremely high-tech, futuristic, almost, like he’s just boarded an alien spaceship and is now seeing the ship’s control room. glowing blue light comes from everywhere, enhancing the dim atmosphere with something clandestine.

“alright. if you’re not the storm, then why do you have the same powers? how’d you deflect my whips?” the ringleader asks loudly, snapping virgil out of his reverie. his face is mostly neutral, but there’s a hint of annoyance underneath that suggests a bruised ego. virgil jumps to his feet and stands at attention, something in the ringleader’s tone making him afraid of what will happen if he doesn’t pay attention. “because from what we saw, the storm was fighting us like normal, and then suddenly stopped in the middle of an attack and just dropped out of the sky. we thought it was a trick, so we all fell in and approached together. but instead of an ambush, you were just standing there on the ground not even acknowledging us. i tried to attack, you blocked it, and then instead of dodging princey’s punch, you cowered. so if you truly aren’t the storm, then why do you look like him? why do you have the same body, the same clothes, the same face and voice? why can you use the same powers?”

and virgil honestly doesn’t know what to say. he fell out of the sky? how is he even alive right now?

“i… i don’t know, okay?! all i know is that i woke up standing on that street. you tried to hit me with those glow-y whip thingies, so i tried to put my hands up so it wouldn’t hit my face, and then fucking lightning came out of my hands! i didn’t do it on purpose! how the fuck am i supposed to know? if i did, i wouldn’t have walked this whole time with these stupid bandages on my feet instead of shoes! and now my feet have rocks in them and i’m bleeding and i think my leg is hurt somehow and i feel like i’m gonna pass out any minute and i’m just tired! i want to go home! i want to go back to my stupid boring desk job and live my stupid boring life! i’m not a villain! i’m not… i’m not a killer,” virgil chokes out, voice breaking before he can truly end his rant. and it’s true, his feet do hurt. they feel blistered, sore, sting with the specific type of pain reserved for a cut. his right leg is throbbing, shaky like it could give out any minute, and his arms are so weak he can barely raise them above waist-level. he’s hungry, and angry, and he just wants to sleep. he probably looks like a zombie right now, and he feels like it too.

“wait! you’re hurt?! why didn’t you tell me? that water just isn’t enough to heal you,” the medic’s familiar voice comes as a worried exclamation from the direction of the door he and the prince disappeared into, and virgil turns to see both of them re-entering the room. the prince looks confused, and the medic immediately jumps into action, fretting over him with small touches here and there that alleviate just a little bit of the ache. virgil is pushed gently back into the chair, and then the medic’s gloves are tapping indeterminable patterns into his blood-stained pant leg. it hurts for a moment, feels like a burning sensation as the little hearts on the pads of his glove fingers glow, but then he can feel an odd numbness taking over everything else. he can feel his skin stitching itself back up, his muscles releasing tension, the nerves calming down. it leaves him exhausted, the medic perhaps even more so, what with the way he lets out a strained breath and wobbles to fall down to sit back on the floor. the prince immediately shoots over and kneels behind the other superhero, propping him up to sit at a more normal angle while he catches his breath, and virgil almost feels kinda bad that he sacrificed so much of his energy to help him.

“hey, are you-- are you messing with my emotions?” virgil asks, and the medic looks at him inquisitively from where he’s sitting on the floor in front of the chair. his skirt is spread out around him, draped over his legs and the glassy, reflective black floor. virgil doesn’t really know how a skirt is practical in battle, but he’s not exactly the expert here, so.

“of course! that’s what i do. you were scared, so i made you relaxed instead!” the medic tells him, happy eyes and happy smiles and despite his previous calm, virgil feels annoyance prick at his chest.

“don’t do that. that’s not cool,” virgil says, voice hard, and this time, he feels even more guilty when the medic shrinks in on himself meekly. the prince narrows his eyes dangerously, posture raising in warning, and virgil doesn’t pay him a single bit of attention despite his own fear. “i get that you’re trying to help, but i don’t want you to do that to me without my permission. it just confuses me and makes me tired. please don’t do it unless i say you can, alright?”

his voice is much softer this time, less accusatory, and his gentler approach is obviously the correct one. the medic perks up again, eyes wide as he nods vigorously, and he squeaks out a small “sorry! i’ll be more careful!” before placing his fingers on another bruise and repeating the process of healing all over again. the prince slumps back, still on guard but less confrontational, and the quiet resumes.

eventually, after a couple more rounds of this, filled with the medic ‘tsk’ing at every scrape and gasping at the state of his soles, virgil feels like he can actually stay conscious again. the medic looks a little rough, like he could pass out any second, so the prince picks him up bridal-style with ease and says something about “saving the damsel in distress”. the medic’s weary giggles echo all the way down the corridor for a few long moments after the two of them leave, presumably to rest elsewhere.

“i have come to the conclusion that you are the villain known as ‘the storm’,” the codebreaker says stoically once the noise completely vanishes. the ringleader’s head snaps over to look at him, surprised enough to stumble a bit on his cane, although he rights himself and resumes his put-together appearance as quickly as possible anyway. the words are like a knife through virgil’s heart, an electrified death sentence. they didn’t listen. they didn’t believe him. there’s no way he’s making it out of here. he’s gonna be a prisoner the rest of his life, paying the price and enduring the punishment for a crime he didn’t commit. “the evidence put together all suggests that you are the storm, and you do have powers. you admitted to using them yourself, albeit unintentionally. by all accounts, you are a powered individual and the villain we have been fighting for the past three years.

“however, i don’t believe that this is the full story. i think there’s more to it, that there has to be something else we’re missing. although i have not come to an agreement within myself on whether i believe you are completely innocent yet, i believe that you believe what you are saying, and that you think your version of events is the truth. if you truly do not remember this, remember being the storm and fighting us and wreaking havoc, then many questions have been raised that must be addressed. why do you not remember your villainous activities? why were you unaware that you have powers in the first place? is this the work of someone else? if so, then who? what is their goal? why are they using you as an intermediary for their influence? there is much to think about, and i cannot waste any more time just standing around,” the codebreaker finishes, ramblings coming to an abrupt halt as his holovisor drops open in front of his eyes again and he starts swiping and tapping at the bright console for the third time. virgil wants to know exactly what it is he’s doing over there, but he doesn’t really think he’s in the position to ask at the moment.

“for now, i’d like you, prince, and medic to train him. show him how to use his powers, and how to fight. he could be a viable asset and potentially act as a stand-in to fight villains while i work,” codebreaker commands pointedly at the ringleader, of whom opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but decides against it and simply nods.

“alright. virgil, right? come with me. i hope you don’t have anyone waiting for you at home, because you’re staying here for the time being,” the ringleader tells him, a snarky grin plastered on his face as he turns to stride over to the same door that the prince and the medic left through. virgil just stands there, mouth agape, unable to process everything that’s happening. he’s staying here? in the weird superhero lair? he’s gonna live underneath an old factory in this weird sci-fi spaceship bunker until they… what? figure out why he’s the storm, why he has powers? are they going to help him finally figure out what happened to him when he was a kid?

“are you coming?” the ringleader asks, voice low and seductive, but not in the way virgil is used to hearing from his misogynist coworkers in the break room. his voice doesn’t promise sex, or money, or fame. it promises adventure, promises answers, and virgil groans internally when he realizes that there’s absolutely no way he could ever say no to that.

small taglist: @illogical-anxieties @kazykazu @sharp-as-hyalus @bookwyrminspiration @thekitchenpan @bunny222

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doubleddenden · 4 years

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I'm just now hearing about the new details released about Pokemon Home and... I'm conflicted. Confused mostly but also a bit glad and a bit mad.

Essentially you can get a free version or a premium version. Free version is essentially cloud storage for 30 pokemon for just your switch game, as well as being able to do 1 gets trade at a time. If you want to transfer your hard earned pokemon through bank, you gotta cough up $3 a month, $5 for 3 months, or $16 for the year, which can then transfer to SwSh if they are even IN the game, or allow up to 3 GTS trades and store up 6000 pokemon. Oh, GTS is back btw. Suspiciously on a freemium app. Keep in mind Bank let you keep 3000 pokemon in cloud storage and let you transfer whatever pokemon you wanted up a gen, so long as they weren't put in a later gen game (ie you can go gens 1, 2, and 5 to 6 or 7, or gen 6 to 7) for $5 for the whole year.

There's also a room trade you can participate in for free or participate and HOST in paid, and a judge function. In addition, suprise trade and friend trades are here in addition to room and global trade.

Now there's some stuff the switch version can do over the mobile version, namely transferring, while mobile seems to be a general hub of sorts. I'm not entirely sure of the details, but at present that doesn't quite matter.

What's good: well, the fact that gts is back and let's you trade 3 at a time is great, and its great that you can access these pokemon and trade them with your phone instead of hogging a switch around.

What's bad: a lot.

First of all, the GTS returning is yet another artificial problem they made to be fixed. Trading sucks in LGPE and SwSh (do not argue, this is a fact and I will die on this hill lol), even in comparison to the Festival Plaza and ESPECIALLY in comparison to PSS. This is an artificial problem because you're essentially forcing your players to pay more money for a feature that was either free in the previous games or cheaper for storage purposes, with maybe a handful of minor improvements. In gen 6 and 7, you could just trade with your specific friend right there, especially if you had them friended. Here, to do that, you have to transfer the pokemon you want to trade to Home before you can just do it.

There's also just content. Or lack thereof should I say. I for one was hoping we'd at least get a small battling system to make up for the fact that we couldn't bring some pokemon to SwSh, but that's not even here based on what we know. Bank was an absolute STEAL for storage and transfer of up to 3000 to cloud storage and other games for a meager $5 a year. In the grand scheme, $16 a year doesn't SOUND bad? But it's still kinda shitty when you're paying more for, again, services that were either free in past games or for minor improvements.

Honestly this does not help Nintendo's image of being greedy as of late. Arlo said it pretty well when he talked about the SwSh expansion passes, basically saying it is GOOD they're just doing DLC instead of an enhanced version, but it's still kinda like... this should have just been in the game. To begin with. And that honestly feels pretty applicable here.

Great that I can access my pokemon and trade on my phone.

Bad that I have to pay $16 for essentially the same service as Bank but with another service that should've just been in SwSh to begin with. That should've been in LGPE to begin with, too.

Good that they're just doing $30 doc instead of $60 for a new game

Bad that a lot of the returning pokemon and this post game should have just been in the game to begin with.

Good they're making improvements

Bad they're making improvements to problems they made themselves for more money.

To put it simply, in SM, you paid... $45 or so for one copy of a game and bank privileges to let you transfer from past gens upward, and even then it wasnt too necessary because all the pokemon were there and the GTS was in the game anyway.

However for SwSh, you're paying $60 for less, unfinished content. Now, they are adding 200 new pokemon you can just trade for, but again, trading in SwSh SUCKS ABSOLUTE DICK. If you want post game content, you gotta pay $30, and if you want to efficiently trade and transfer, you either pay $3 a month, $5 for 3 months, or $16 for a year. In other words, to get the full content, you're probably going to shell out $106. And even then, you're still missing 200 pokemon and some old features, AND you're inconvenienced due to having to rely on an app for what should've been in to begin with.

It's going to make money though, so they don't care. And likely things won't change.

That's roughly why I can see the anger behind this. I can definitely see the good, but unfortunately, like SwSh, all the good is sort of... soured for me for what feels like a series of New Coke style marketing gymnastic stunts.

I'll say please fix it by gen 9, but again, probably won't.

#pokemon #pokemon home

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blue-honeycomb · 4 years

Text

Escape Artist: Chapter 1 [Aizawa x Reader]

Decided to play around with this for a bit before going back to my other stuff.

Masterlist

Prologue | Part 1

---

The Escape Artist stared at the television screen with incomprehension, blinking once, twice, until a small hand smacked her dead center in the face. The force was enough to shake her from her thoughts and she cast a sidewards glare at the little brat sitting casually beside her.

Big, off-white eyes stared unflinchingly into her own, equally white, featureless face twisting into some form of expression that was lost on her. Luckily, the little hellion's hair was prone to flashing colors with their emotions, so she at least has some idea as to what they wanted. Even if that idea was vague at best.

"How was I supposed to know there was a whole pack of heros right there?" She huffed, casting her eyes back to the news special broadcasting her latest anti-kidnapping kidnapping with concerningly clear footage. Like, crystal clear HD, not some fuzzy security camera but media quality definition; the kind that got you recognized.

On the screen was a video of her popping into existence in a police station not even 3 yards from where a group of heros and police officers were finishing up an interview, setting the child she'd brought in a chair as he chewed on the mochi she'd thought to bring with her for just such a purpose. As though in slow motion, she could see her screen self whip around and suddenly freeze, staring directly at the heros, and consequencely the cameras, before disappearing once more. Honestly, it was pretty comical, and apparently, a good portion of the in studio reporters seemed to think so too.

"That," She pointed at the screen for emphasis while leveling the yellow flashing, blank-faced little shit a glare. "Was not intentional, no matter what you little misfits seem to think." From the shadow of the color flashing cretin popped another one, this one gray haired and black eyed, grinning widely at her with his wickedly sharp teeth.

"Don't make up shit just cuz you can't understand me. Don't think I'm not on to you, shark boy." Not that any of her brats ever listened to a thing she said anyway. The only one who ever seemed to try was Spitter, but that was because the boy couldn't say no to anyone ever, so it was never satisfying. Hard to feel victorious about getting your way when it took years of abuse to make the person (a little fucking boy) willing to heel on command. Thinking about how'd she'd found the little guy made her stomach turn.

Moving on before she breaks something.

Shark brat said something about hero costumes to Whiteout Brat and a lot of gesturing took place, as well as a good bit of yelling. Thankfully they lived far enough underground to avoid being hear by any passerbys. Escape Artist turned away while they were distracted and let them entertain themselves while she thought about what she'd just seen.

It was the first time the public had seen conclusive evidence of her existence outside of a few shitty grocery store video feeds, and the entirety of Japan seemed to be eating it up. Words like vigilante and uncatchable were being tossed around, as well as theories about teleportation quirks and being a greiving mother seeking vengeance. All these things would have made her snort in amusement had it been even a few months ago. But now? Now she couldn't afford to get caught or have a hoard of glory-hounds on her trail. Too many mouths to feed, for one, and secondly, too many little bodies following her when she wasn't looking. Anything could happen with the added variable of nosy superpower enhanced dogooders.

The problem with working with homeless, traumatized children is that after you've taken care of them for a while they come to expect you to actually take care of them. As in, not just feeding them occasionally and giving them a place to crash, but actually filling that parent shaped whole in their lives and taking over all the responsibilities that comes with it. Like protection, love and trust. And time. Especially time. So much more than she has to spare.

So they've taken to following her when she's not watching closely enough, and that terrifies her because she can give them love and trust in abundance, but protection is something she just can't provide. She simply isn't strong enough to take them with her everywhere she goes, let alone into a situation that may one day be her last.

Speaking of situations.

It was time to go out and get more food. While nothing went bad in her inventory, thank God, it never actually stayed full with how many mouths needed feeding everyday. Shark boy alone could put away half his body weight in a single sitting if given the chance, and even that's got nothing on Bull or Hot Shot. Honestly, and though Escape Artist would never say it aloud, Bull's vigorous appetite may have been the reason she was abandoned in the first place. She just had to eat so much to function that even with the triweekly raids Escape Artist could barely keep up with the ever growing demand.

And then there's Hot Shot. Nicely put, he was a rather enthusiastic young boy in possession of a very destructive, fuel-exhaustive quirk neither she nor he had any idea how to train. It wasn't until he'd joined her merry little band that she'd learned the location of every clothing store in the city. Every single one of them.

Her life sometimes, she swears.

There was a shattering sound in the designated kitchen area, followed by a high pitched screech that fell somewhere between a frog croak and a chirp. Not even a second later the sound of footsteps darting through the tunnels at frankly ridiculous speeds creeked overhead, followed closely by the wall rattling thud of Bull chasing right after.

Escape Artist sighed, running a hand through her hair and pulling slightly. Beside her, Shark boy leapt to his feet in a dead run to go watch the drama unfold with unholy glee, Whiteout following at a slightly more moderate pace. Not even 8 in the morning and already the chaos had begun.

Her head thud quietly against the back of the couch. "I don't get paid enough for this shit."

---

Escape Artist was more than a bit concerned by what had happened on her way back home, but she supposed it could have been worse. For one thing, she wasn't dead, and for another, neither was the man she'd smacked headfirst into (or more accurately, he'd smacked face first into her). Unfortunately for the man though, the impact had left him notably unconscious and maybe a little bruised around the nose and forehead. In short, she done fucked up and this time it didn't involve another mouth to feed… she hoped. She didn't know if she had the patience needed to take care of a full grown man on top of the 8 kids at home and the 2 feral cretins that visited occasionally.

It'd been a simple case of bad luck all around, honestly. She'd just finished robbing the local Walmart (yes, it still exists and she still doesn't know how to feel about that months on) and was coming out of ID when she's suddenly been thrown to the ground by a speeding black mass all but flying through the darkened alley. Her first thought upon getting over her shock was to thank whatever was watching over her that night it wasn't a car. Her second was to fret over whoever she'd just gotten killed.

Luckily, it hadn't been a car and the stranger had survived the encounter. So, all was good in her books, besides the obvious part where the guy was laying unconscious in an alley and sporting an obvious hero getup in the shadier part of this district. If that wasn't asking for a knife in the back than she didn't know what was.

So now here she was, sitting across from the unmoving lump of man, chin in hand and elbows firmly planted on her thighs. She'd covered him up with a blanket from her inventory some time ago to keep him at least somewhat warm as the night gradually grew colder around them. She didn't think she'd manage to get the thing back before the guy was up and trying to kick her ass, but Hot Shot needed to learn to control his flames anyway and maybe going coverless for a while was just the motivation he needed to do so. She pointedly didn't think about the extra comforters she'd grabbed because she knew the first wouldn't last three nights in the little shit's care.

She blinked slowly, eyes roaming over what little bit of the man she could make out from under the blanket. Long, dark hair curling over the blanket and his heavily stubbled face (she'd picked the wild mass up off the filthy ground because ew), long lashes and a narrow, masculine face. He was attractive for sure, though the dark lines around his eyes, nose and forehead made him seem almost sickly pale in the unflattering street light. What she noticed most though was the peeks of sleek, firm muscle that the fluffy covers, ridiculously huge scarf and baggy clothing couldn't hide.

She was a woman with damn human needs. It'd been at least 3 years since she's gotten any and she was long overdue. She felt strongly that she should be able to appreciate this man's undeniable beauty so long as she kept her hands to herself and didn't do anything creepy like take pictures or some shit. She blatantly ignored the little voice whispering about how equally creepy it was to watch someone sleep without their consent.

It was also creepy how the observe function of her quirk let her learn a few tidbits about the man without any conscious effort, but for the most part she ignored the notifications hovering around the man all together. It wasn't like she'd ever meet the guy again after this, unless he was trying to arrest her of course. Either way, she doubted learning this guy's name or whatever was really worth invading his privacy anymore than her mere existence did. She'd like to think she has some standards.

In her uncharacteristic moment of distraction she failed to notice the subtle shift of the man's head before he went eeriely still. It wasn't until she was shifting to get more comfortable and noticed that a section of his hair was misplaced that she realized her mistake.

It happened too fast for her to properly react. With a quiet that belied the strength behind the attack, the man launched himself into her personal space and had her wrapped head to toe in the weird scarf he had with him. On instinct she tried to open her ID, but with a cold chill of realization discovered she couldn't get it to activate. In fact, her whole world seemed to suddenly swirl on its axis and for the first time since she'd come to this place her mind blanked with true, mortal terror.

His eyes glowed deep, sinister red against the shadows spread over his handsome face, dark hair whipping above his head like a dark, inhuman halo. Those muscles she'd been admiring just moments ago were suddenly the weapons of intimidation they were meant to be, something that made her heart race and quake with fear.

And her body. Maybe even worse than the sudden influx of terror was the sudden aknowledgement of her body's long forgotten functions. Where once she was satisfied she was now hollow, the movement of long unused organs felt like insects crawling though her body, scratching and nipping as they went.

Suddenly, the world was not just a thing that could be walked away from with a single though and a armful of goods. For the first time since she'd opened her eyes in that alleyway nearly a year ago, it was just her, the world and all the dangers that came with it staring her down with burning red eyes.

For the first time since she received her quirk she was well and truly alive.

"Escape Artist, was it."

#BNHA #Escape Artist AU #Gamer AU #Aizawa Shouta #Aizawa x Reader

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pass-the-bechdel · 5 years

Text

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015)

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

Yes, once.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Seven (30.43% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Sixteen.

Positive Content Rating:

Three.

General Film Quality:

Significantly flawed, and well-known in fandom for it. Unpopular opinion? I still think it’s better than the first Avengers film.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

Natasha and Laura pass in a single-line trade. It’s sooo close to not counting.

Female characters:

Natasha Romanoff.

Wanda Maximoff.

Maria Hill.

Helen Cho.

Peggy Carter.

Laura Barton.

FRIDAY.

Male characters:

Tony Stark.

Steve Rogers.

JARVIS.

Thor.

Clint Barton.

Strucker.

Pietro Maximoff.

Bruce Banner.

Ultron.

Sam Wilson.

James Rhodes.

Ulysses Klaue.

Heimdall.

Nick Fury.

Erik Selvig.

Vision.

OTHER NOTES:

Everyone talking about Strucker like we already know who he is...

The “Shit!”/”Language!” gag was funnier before they hung a lantern on it. Not least because it takes almost a full minute before Tony harks back to it (fifty seconds, actually. I checked). If you’re gonna make a Thing out of it, you gotta follow up immediately, not after fifty seconds of cutting around to different character intros and action shots and a whole lot of other dialogue.

Urrgghh, ok, I’m going to break my standing rule about not discussing source material, because we gotta acknowledge the colossal wrongness of re-writing the Maximoff twins - canonically Jewish Romani - as willing volunteers in a Nazi science experiment. It gets worse the more you think about it. There are a few things about this movie which generated significant negative outcry, and this incredibly offensive decision is one of them.

Tony and Thor fighting over who has a better girlfriend does have a certain charm to it. If you’re gonna have a testosterone-off, it might as well be about how great your partner is.

I got a zero out of ten on this out-of-nowhere forced romance crap with Natasha and Bruce. We’ll come back to this later.

“I will be reinstituting Prima Nocta,” Tony declares, as he prepares to lift Thor’s hammer and thereby theoretically take charge of the Nine Realms. Primae noctis (believed to in fact be a myth) refers to a supposed Dark-Ages law that granted lords the ‘right’ to take the virginity of any newlywed peasant woman who lived on their land. So, this is a wonderful little rape joke from Tony (or, y’know, not so little, since primae noctis in reality would make Tony a serial rapist). Ha ha ha ha. Hilarious. Good one.

I’m really mad about the parts here that are total garbage, because mostly, the revels sequence has a nice low-key quality to it, good solid team dynamics.

I can’t fucking believe that they played the ‘and then Bruce falls with his face in Natasha’s cleavage!’ gag. I cannot believe it. Is this a disgusting frat-boy comedy from the nineties?

Honestly, Tony, just shut up and admit that you KNEW from the get-go that it was wrong to try and make Ultron happen (that is why you kept it secret from everyone else to begin with); don’t try to defend the decision now that you’ve got a ‘murderbot’ on your hands. Take responsibility for a bad choice instead of talking shit about how you had to and everyone else is just too short-sighted, damn it!

Andy Serkis is delightful.

The Iron Man/Hulk fight absolutely KILLS the momentum of this film. It goes for way the fuck too long (eight minutes) and has no narrative significance at all. Pro tip for action scenes: they should always be driving the story somewhere. You can pull off eighty minutes of action so long as your plot is advancing alongside/within it.

Also, Iron Man causes a huge amount of additional damage during this fight, in the service of the aforementioned pointless action. His efforts to minimise Hulk’s effects are extremely poor, and calling in his relief organisation to clean up after the fact does not negate that.

Gotta love that throwing a wife and kids at Hawkeye at the same time as we suddenly start pushing this Natasha/Bruce thing. That’s not transparent at all. I also understand this to be a major deviation from Clint’s identity in the comics, and very unpopular with fans for that reason, but regardless; reinventing him as a family man to reset the romantic blather after baiting fans with the possibility of Clint/Natasha in the first Avengers movie is such a shitty move. I was not invested in the ship myself and would have loved to have them reinforce the just-friends relationship between Hawkeye and Black Widow, because there are not enough platonic friendships between compatible men and women in fiction, but 'they’re not interested in each other because they’re busy with someone else!’ is a weak reinforcement indeed. Less forced romances, and definitely less token wifey who exists for no other Goddamn reason at all. This comes out of nowhere, and not in a clever-surprise kind of way.

“You still think you’re the only monster on the team?” Natasha says, after telling Bruce about her sterilisation. This earned a HUGE backlash, and for good reason - despite all arguments about how what Natasha meant was that her being raised to be an assassin makes her a monster, the direct implication of her words as they are phrased and as the discussion is structured is that her inability to have children makes her monstrous, and that’s deeply offensive. It’s also completely in keeping with a narrative which is often played out against women, in which their value as people is attributed directly to their ability to produce offspring, so it’s not even like this outrageous implication of monstrosity - the corruption of what it means to be female! - is that unusual. It’s awful, but not unusual. Add on the fact that 1) Natasha’s nightmare-flashes specifically foregrounded her sterilisation over all other details of her training, supporting the idea that she believes that it’s what makes her irredeemable (instead of, y’know, all the murdering and stuff), and 2) this is Joss Whedon’s work and he is OBSESSED with highlighting the womanhood of his female characters and treating it like their defining trait while also variously punishing them for it, and you’ve got every reason to interpret this terrible fucking line as exactly the heinous thing it (presumably, unwittingly) seems to be.

Steve ripping a log in half with his bare hands is the funniest thing in this whole movie.

Thor’s brief side-adventure with Erik Selvig is pretty out-of-place. He just...goes for a swim in a convenient magic pond that Selvig chances to know about. Seems normal.

Ultron is full of such boring, empty rhetoric. Reminds me of Loki in The Avengers, with all that sound-and-fury.

I love Paul Bettany.

Man, they sure do find Natasha instantly. It’s almost like making a damsel-in-distress of her who needs to be rescued by the team was completely meaningless...

Breaking my no-BTS rule (since I already have done for this movie at this point) because it’s well-known how Joss Whedon ordered Elizabeth Olsen not to show exertion or ‘ugly emotion’ on her face in this film, because God forbid she compromise her attractiveness by being human. Joss Whedon is not human; he’s fucking trash.

The final fight sure does just, y’know, get to a point where it ends. They really did not ratchet up the tension over the course of the Sokovia conflict, it just goes along until it stops (also, they say Sokovia is a country, but then they never call the city anything else, it’s just Sokovia. Is the city conveniently named after the country (very confusing), or is it a city-country, like The Vatican? I kinda assume it’s option three, which is that no one bothered to care because it’s just some fake European placeholder anyway and we’re not supposed to notice such a dumb oversight).

“I was born yesterday.” This is the best quip in this whole thinks-it-is-way-wittier-than-it-is movie.

Helen Cho deserved better than to be a prop rapidly dismissed and then just trotted past at the end for an ‘oh, she survived, btw’.

Back when I reviewed the first Avengers movie, I said that I considered that film to be heavily overrated, so maybe it’s not such a surprise that I actually like this one better. The two primary problems I had with that first film were the overly simplistic plot, and the fact that most of the characters were OOC compared to previous films, and this movie does do better on both scores, so I feel more engaged by it, and less annoyed. That said...this movie has still got a lot of problems, and those include iffy characterisation and a plot with various holes, nonsensical complications, and conveniently ignored or smoothed-down dynamics. When I say I like this movie better than the first one, I mean just that: I like this better. That does not mean I am here to sing its praises.

The tacked-on romance is part of the problem - for Clint as well as Natasha (but especially for Natasha). After Hawkeye was so heavily under-used in the first film (and his slightly-ambiguous relationship with Black Widow was the only human element that made him a character instead of a prop), Age of Ultron attempts to compensate by giving Clint a personal life, in the form of a magically-appearing heavily-pregnant wife and a pair of nameless children. The function of this family appears to be 1) to give Clint a reason to not be interested in Natasha, and 2) to ‘humanise’ him by giving him something to fight for and get home to, because we all know nothing legitimises a character quite like some otherwise-irrelevant dependents. Want a man to seem lovable and important? Give him a pregnant wife. That’s what women are for, anyway, right? To enhance a man’s story? In this case, to provide a man whose purpose in the story has been contested with insta-personality, because ‘he’s secretly a family man, ooh, twist!’ is way better than having to spend time on giving him something to do in the plot that is actually meaningful in some way. Great logic. Makes Hawkeye super dynamic, right?

Natasha, unsurprisingly, is hit much, much harder. As the only female avenger and one of only two prominent female characters in a cast which has seven-to-nine male characters of equal or greater importance/screen time (YMMV on whether or not you think Fury and Vision count for that list), the pressure is already on for Natasha to be served up a quality narrative, because if she doesn’t get one, well...she doesn’t have six-to-eight alternative characters to pull the weight for her gender. The best solve for this problem would be to avoid the ‘Token Woman’ cliche in the first place, but since we missed that boat...not having the personal story of your only primary female character revolve completely around her womanhood and her catering to heteronormative expectations of a love interest would have been a good choice. This weird, forced, chemistry-free thing with Bruce Banner? Was the worst thing they could have used to define Natasha’s presence in the film. It sticks out like a sore thumb every time they have an awkward interaction, and it leads in to that atrocious ‘monstrous infertility’ element (though that particular egregious mistake could have been included with or without a romantic blunder, it...probably wouldn’t be, and we’d all be the better off). Even the Hulk-whisperer part of the relationship - while not awful on its own with all the unnecessary romance and Unresolved Sexual Not-Tension removed - serves to highlight Natasha’s female-ness by making her the soft maternal figure for the team, because God forbid one of the other male members of the team be asked to ASMR-speak to the Hulk while delicately caressing his hand. If Natasha’s presence in the first Avengers film leaned too heavily on her gender identity as a defining trait (and it did), this movie doesn’t fix that problem at all: it doubles down on it.

The good news for most of the excess of male characters is, they by-and-large don’t feel as OOC as they did in the first film. The boorish romantic entanglement aside, Bruce Banner is still a naturalistic character highlight (all credit to Mark Ruffalo, who probably doesn’t know how to turn in a bad performance in the first place), and Thor’s dialogue is way less ridiculous this time ‘round, so he lands a lot closer to his personality from previous films simply by virtue of sounding like the same guy (unfortunately, the plot does not have the faintest idea what it wants to do with him as a character). Steve Rogers is still being written as if being Captain America is his character, which is a fundamental misunderstanding of his identity, albeit one which conveniently allows him to behave in a stereotypical self-righteously bland manner, thus avoiding the need for any nuance in his perspective or actions. This borderline fanfic-flamer ‘Captain America is my least favourite character so I’m going to write him as a boring stick-in-the-mud and then hopefully no one else will like him either!’ approach doesn’t grate quite as badly as it did in the first Avengers, and it can’t cancel out the innate level-headed charm of Chris Evans, so as disappointing as the bias is, it’s still a better balance here than it was last time. The one character who is not so flatteringly handled, however? Also happens to be the one who was arguably handled best last time, and unfortunately, he’s the one who is essentially treated as the ‘lead’.

The big problem for Tony Stark is that this movie is not interested in digging in to the pathos of any character, it’s all-flash-no-substance on that front, and Tony really, really needed a less heavy-handed slathering of ‘afraid of what might come (feat. messiah complex)’ to motivate his actions and reactions in this film, because without any exploration he’s basically just a billionaire kid playing with matches. If this were an Iron Man film (either the first or third one, anyway), we’d get into some tasty deconstruction of Tony’s mental state and confront his hubris, etc, and - crucially, most crucial of all, it’s a mainstay of all his past stories in the MCU - Tony would own up to his mistakes, listen to the advice of those around him, and take contrite steps toward fixing the problem not just in the direct sense of ‘beating the bad guy’, but also in the personal and emotional sense of working on his own flaws and making amends with the people he hurt along the way. This movie offers none of that. To begin with, Tony’s ‘I know best and I will not be taking any questions’ approach to creating Ultron feels like a significant step backwards in his character development so far (Iron Man 3 was specifically about addressing his PTSD and associated tumultuous emotions surrounding the fear of imminent alien invasion, so his reactionary and secretive behaviour in this film feels particularly out-of-touch with a mental reality Tony has been explicitly working on for the past couple of years); Tony is actively aware that it’s a bad call and thus hides it from the other Avengers until it’s too late, and then he’s bizarrely unrepentant about his mistake. Worst of all, he actually attempts to repeat that mistake, only worse, late in the film (the fact that his idiotic ‘mad scientist’ pep talk actually convinces Bruce to help him again is the weakest character moment for Bruce outside of the aforementioned romance crap). The plot rewards Tony’s second, far worse mistake, in the creation of Vision, who turns out to be ‘worthy of wielding Thor’s Hammer’ and whatnot and conveniently provides every necessary skill to defeat Ultron in a deus ex machina so overt you could use it as a textbook example, so even though Tony had absolutely no way of knowing that he’d get a good result this time and almost every reason to believe he’d just compound the existing problem, his reckless disregard for the literal safety of the planet is treated like a good thing because it happens to work out this time, and they just kinda sweep under the rug the fact that Tony is playing God (and being uncharacteristically stupid and selfish about it - in other films, Tony is normally only reckless with his own safety, and it’s when his actions spill out into unintended consequences for others that he realises the error of his ways and cues up a positive learning curve; it’s what makes him palatable). At the end of the film, once Ultron is gone and Tony has thrown some dispassionate wads of cash into ‘relief efforts’, he strolls and quips and eventually drives off into the sunset in his expensive car, with nary a mention of, I dunno, maybe a little guilty conscience? Maybe a hint of having learned a valuable lesson? The closest he gets is just suggesting that it might be time he retires from Avenging, but neither he nor anyone else lets on that there’s a need for serious self-reflection. The Tony Stark in this movie is the nightmarish male-fantasy version of the character, the playboy with the cool tech and no limits who does whatever he wants and then...literally rides off into the sunset in the end, no muss, no fuss. He’s kinda like a complete reversion to his original self, pre-Iron Man, frittering money around and designing weapons of mass destruction while convincing himself he’s bringing peace to the world one explosion at a time, but that Tony has no business here, seven years of character development down the track.

While we’re talking iffy characterisation, we should also segue into plot, and that’s something we can do easily enough by looking at our villain, Ultron. Calling Ultron an actual character feels...ambitious. He’s a CGI robot full of empty rhetoric and, you guessed it, more of those quips that this movie has in place of any meaningful dialogue. I’d call him self-fellating, but he ain’t got nothing to fellate, so instead he just blathers a lot in a manner that sounds vaguely poetically intelligent but is, upon a moment’s consideration, just vapid nonsense (much like Loki in the first Avengers, as noted above, but at least Loki had the benefit of a flesh-and-blood actor delivering his lines with conviction; James Spader does solid work as the voice of Ultron, but trying to make a CGI robot who spouts a school-kid’s attempt at edgy philosophy sound like a genuine menace is an uphill battle). Speaking of genuine menace, I assume the reason the film is called Age of Ultron is because A Couple of Days of Ultron Causing Disturbances in a Handful of Specific Locations was too much. For all the big talk (and there is..so much), Ultron doesn’t get up to all that much trouble, most notably in the sense that he apparently has his code all over the internet and yet he doesn’t bother stirring up a single ounce of chaos with that ungodly power. Why bother including this as an element of the character if it achieves zero story? Is it purely to make Ultron seem ~unstoppable~ because he keeps downloading into new robots? Because it didn’t really land, y’all. They try to play it like a big victory for the good guys when Vision burns Ultron out of the ‘net, but in context it’s meaningless because he didn’t do anything while he was there. Pretty much everything about Ultron was all talk, little to no action - even a whole bunch of the trouble he did cause happened off-screen, with Maria Hill just popping in to let us know that ‘there are reports of metal men stealing shit’. Cheers, cool. And you know, Ultron makes a song and dance about how he’s going to save the world by ‘ending the Avengers’, but then he...does not pursue that at all. He tries to make himself a pretty body, the Avengers thwart him, and then he enacts a doomsday machine to destroy all life on Earth. Like every other aspect of the character, the whole ‘end the Avengers’ schtick is just white noise, there’s no meaning in it. Ultron is just a same-old-same ‘What if Artificial Intelligence wants to WIPE US OUT?!’ cliche, and maybe that’s what he was in the comics too, I don’t know, but it’s the job of the film to tell that story in a dynamic way, and they had two and a half hours to do it. And yet.

There should be more to this than a nondescript placeholder villain concept and a series of action set pieces that just kinda happen until they stop. At least the first Avengers had some variety in each of its action sequences, using the location and the different skills and weapons of its antagonists, whereas this one is just ‘there are robots and the good guys punched and shot them until they were all broken, the end’. Even making the city fly in the end doesn’t actually make it interesting, not least because the characters spend most of their time running around the (weirdly, perfectly stable) streets not having to deal with any consequences of being up in the air anyway, and the doomsday device is too nebulous to ratchet up any real tension about figuring out how to deal with it. The conflicts with the Maximoff twins have at least some spark of life in them, but the characters themselves are treated to an over-simplified and very contrived narrative arc that uses what they do and what they know more as plot devices than as details of actual people’s lives, leading to a cheap death for Pietro so that Wanda will be distracted enough to abandon the big ol’ doomsday button, and it’s just all so convenient. There’s no heart in any of it, and it makes the moments that try to have heart all the more embarrassing and out-of-place (don’t even get me started on what a prescribed attempt at tugging the heart-strings it is to have Hawkeye name his magnificently well-timed newborn after Pietro, because DAMN). When I said I liked this movie better than the first Avengers, I meant just that: I like this better. That’s not to suggest that it is significantly better in any sense, because it isn’t, and I can’t even argue that this one has a better story, because honestly, it doesn’t. The first film made more sense, it was just less interesting to watch, and the things about it that were contrived were contrived in different ways. The first film was weaker and more irritating on character, and character is always the most important part of a story for me, so as annoyed as I am by the major character blunders in Age of Ultron, I’m still not as annoyed as I was after The Avengers. That is damning with the faintest of praise; this is just not a particularly good movie, it makes a poor use of its cast at the best of times, delivers a sub-par action extravaganza, and the script is not half as witty as it gleefully convinces itself that it is. It comes as no surprise, I’m sure, that I am very glad a certain writer/director departed the franchise after disappointing everyone with this outing. I say I like this better than the first Avengers, but gee, it’s a close call.

#Avengers: Age of Ultron #Marvel Cinematic Universe #Bechdel Test #female representation #MCU #Age of Ultron #Avengers

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