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lonelyghosts-stuff · 4 years ago

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Loki x Reader one shot summary idea idk what to call this lol (I will be writing a full one shot story for this eventually)

Warnings: angst, torture, kidnapping, and violence

Imagine you are a part of the avengers with a past unknown to all of them except Natasha Romanoff and Nick Fury. Throughout your time with the avengers you have become friends with them, but you still remained isolated and tended to stick to your own when possible. One person, or alien if you would, despised you. Not because you were human or one of the “good guys (although those things didn’t help) but because he knew nothing about you. He had managed to get most of the information regarding the others in one way or another, but you, your past was seemingly erased from history and you never let your shields down for anyone to get an insight. He also hated that you acted so selflessly and compassionately towards everyone, including him, and he hated that he couldn’t figure out why. What was your motive? I mean, no one is like that out of the goodness of their heart, right? Loki had “joined” (or rather was coerced into) the avengers as means of making amends for his past crimes.

One day on a mission, you and Loki get separated from the rest of the group, forcing some uncomfortable and unresolved tension, mostly on Loki’s side. In between strikes and punches, Loki would pop one question after the other, attempting to pry into your life and your, no doubt, selfish intentions with being nice. Despite his best efforts, you shot down each question and focused on the fight. At one point, you seemingly defeated all of the enemies and took a moment to breathe easily. It was then that, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed something stirring. One of the enemies was still alive and using what strength it had left, it lunged at Loki. Acting without hesitation, you defended Loki and jumped into the way and struck at the enemy, but not before the enemy managed to land a blow on you, impaling you through your gut.

In immense pain, you collapsed to the ground and felt paralyzed in pain. Loki quickly knelt by your side to assess your wound while also scolding you for your recklessness. After a moment of analysis, he determined he would need to heal you at least as much as he could until you could reunite with the others and get you to a proper medical center. He urged you that you needed to remove your shirt so he could see the wound better and heal it, but to his surprise, you bluntly and insistently refused. You seemed to be incredibly guarded and insisted you were fine, saying you should wait for Natasha to come and help. Hearing this, Loki then told you to stand up if you were so fine so you could both find Natasha and the others together. In a bout of stubbornness, despite you knowing that you were beyond well enough to do so, you attempted to stand up. Pain shot throughout your body, as you shrieked in pain, collapsing back onto the ground with deep, strained breaths. Your vision became spotty as the pain coursed through you. You knew that, if you weren’t treated soon, you would die. Thousands of thoughts streamed through your mind as you slowly tuned out all of the sounds and sights around you, trapping yourself in your mind. Suddenly, Loki’s voice shattered your bubble and pulled you back to reality. You could see the concern and determination on his face as he spoke; you could only catch some of the words that came out of his mouth.

Finally, you could hear him clearly again as he once again insisted that you remove your shirt so he could heal you. Defensiveness and panic rushed into your mind for a second, but almost immediately fizzled out once you looked into his eyes. He was sincere. Slowly, you let him help you up into a seated position and you nodded that it was okay for him to remove your shirt. Carefully and precisely, Loki lifted your shirt off of you, above your head, with great care as to not hurt you. You felt the cold hit your body, your bra providing barely any defense from the bitter air. Once the shirt was fully pulled over your head, you inhaled a sharp breath and held it. You could feel Loki’s piercing gaze upon your front, and then back as he made his away around you to check the wound.

Scars. Lots of scars were scattered about your body. Scars from knives, bullet wounds, injection sites from needles, scars from blunt trauma, etc. Loki found himself frozen. How someone as seemingly chipper as you could have suffered so much. Who did this to you and why? How long ago were you inflicted with these? Based purely on observation, he deduced you had received these wounds over the course of many years; some wounds clearly looked fresher than others. He was tempted to brush his hand along your scars, to feel the grooves and indentations, but he restrained himself, sensing your discomfort and insecurity.

Taking a deep breath, he gently placed one of his hands on your stomach, right over the wound. In response to his cold hand on your bare stomach, you inadvertently released the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You felt so exposed; so vulnerable. It was only a second until you felt a warm sensation on your stomach, forcing you to look down. To your amazement, a green, mist-like substance was pooling out of Loki’s fingers and burrowing itself into your wound. A mix of discomfort and a strange, soothing sensation crept throughout your body. After a while, Loki made his way behind you again and proceeded to lay his hand on your back, where the wound had managed to reach. You closed your eyes, trying to imagine you were far away from everything, sleeping, watching a movie, laughing with your friends, anything. Before you could get too comfortable, however, Loki removed his hand from your back, but didn’t come around to face you again. You felt his heavy breath on your back, not only from the exhaustion of using so much magic to heal you, but clearly he was troubled.

A sudden wave of confidence and something else you couldn’t pinpoint washed over you. Surprising Loki, but more importantly yourself, you opened your mouth and spoke. You told him it was okay, and that he could touch them. Loki paused before asking for reassurance, wanting to make sure you were actually okay with it. Seeing you nod, he hesitantly placed a hand on your back. You once again inhaled a sharp breath as he froze for a second, checking that you were okay. Slowly, he traced a finger across your scars, feeling each detail, groove, and imperfection. He proceeded to do this in complete silence. You loosened up a bit, allowing yourself to breathe out and in at a calmer and consistent pace.

For a second, Loki opened his mouth, internally struggling with whether or not he should ask you what happened. Before he could decide, you spoke out. In a shaky tone, you began to tell him of your past. You were taken at a young age by a secret intel group working on replicating the super soldier serum. You were only 16, but due to your family’s history of joblessness and irresponsibility, you were the perfect mark. Your parents were killed and the news assumed it was suicide and that you ran away. For years you endured countless methods of experimentation as they tried to perfect their serum. Unfortunately for you, the studies and statistics they had managed to get ahold of from the original experiments were incomplete and fragmented. This led to desperate attempts to substitute ingredients and information and steps that were unknown, leading to many painful and destructive effects on your body. You were cut open many times to receive samples and prevent the spread of faulty serums. Eventually, the group had found something. Not quite the same serum as the original super soldier serum, but something different. A mysterious seller by the name of Klaue had provided vibranium, an element that very little was known about. Using the vibranium and finding a way to activate it, the scientists were able to add it into the serum and insert it into your blood stream. The serum fused with your cells, the vibranium increasing your stamina and ability to endure physical trauma and injury. Despite this, you still felt everything; every hit, stab, slice, gunshot, etc. but the serum allowed you to keep moving. Of course you first found this out through a series of vigorous testing as the scientists tested your limits. Each weapon was amped up and the danger increased. You weren’t invulnerable to damage or death, but your ability to endure it without it killing you was dramatically increased. It would take a lot more than a simple stab or gunshot to the chest or brain to kill you, at least immediately. Of course this was just common weaponry, not an enemy piercing a mysterious weapon through your gut. This serum, combined with the other samples of failed serums left in your system, left you highly unstable. The effects of the vibranium were nigh radioactive at times when you were under extreme pressure. News reached the scientists that the newly formed group called the Avengers had gotten wind of their experiments and were on their way to them. The sciences panicked and worked on shutting down the lab and salvaging what they could, ensuring they secured the latest serum. The scientists decided that they had exhausted your use and decided to exterminate you to move onto another subject to further their research on this new serum. This news didn’t reach you well as you lashed out, almost as if you weren’t in control of your own body, and you killed them all. You were left alone, scared, hurting, and dangerous. Fortunately, when the Avengers arrived, they were able to recognize you as not an immediate threat and safely subdue you. Thanks to the genius of Tony stark (and Shuri eventually as years passed) your condition was stabilized, but the effects of the serum were irreversible.

Loki was silent. In awe of how someone could go through so much and still be a good person. He eventually made his way in front of you, facing you with sympathy and an immense compassion in his eyes. You were silently weeping as he made his way around, tears were streaming down your face as you shook. Without saying anything, Loki gently cupped your face in his hands and looked you in the eyes, allowing you to calm down. His eyes moved across your body, beautiful, but damaged. Seeing you shivering, he quickly grabbed your shirt again and helped you put it back on; the gash in the shirt from the attack was still there, but it was better than nothing.

You said nothing. You kept your eyes on the ground. Silence.

To yours and his shock, Loki quickly pulled you into a warm embrace, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You couldn’t move, the shock still affecting you. When it seemed like Loki was loosening his grip, you quickly acted and hugged him back, weeping into shoulder.

He assured you, you were no longer alone. You were safe. As long as he’s able, he will not let harm come to you again.

#avengers #mcu #marvel #loki #captain america #avengers end game #endgame #end game #reader #reader insert #x reader #x y/n #Loki #loki laufeyson #loki x you #loki x reader #loki x y/n #fan fiction #fanfic

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brynfelan · 4 years ago

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ALDJSHSKS OH THANK GOD I WASN'T WORRIED BUT I WAS A LIL WORRIED...alright imma start off with a Kuzuhina(ish) idea, because rarepair hell sucks let's suffer together. Hajine gets kidnapped by a psycho group NOT because of his relationship to Fuyuhiko, but because they "wanna see what makes the Ultimate Ultimate tick." Which is infinitely worse because the human experimentation is back on for our tsundere ahoge boy. He got lobotomized and now he's back in that particular hell. Izuru's also suffering because he's grown to care for Hajime in his own way, because they're two separate minds in one body, and he can't protect Hajime from this. Fuyuhiko is basically going postal because "MY BOYFRIEND WAS KIDNAPPED BY LUNATICS, WE DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY WANT, AND NO ONE'S DOING ANYTHING WHAT THE FUCK." The rest of the Remnants are also pissed and worried, but Fuyuhiko moreso. Your thoughts???

like one day he’s just gone ?? no note? just poof?

holy hell i have this image of fuyuhiko absolutely TEARING UP the 100km area around them just looking. ofc the other remnants are pissed too but nobody has ever seen fuyuhiko just go off like this. eventually he realises he can’t find him by just searching aimlessly so soda builds some walkie talkies STAT (or they get to ask future foundation for help? i haven’t decided which is better), but point is all of the remnants absolutely descend on the surrounding area, with their own sections to search. the communicators have lil GPS things on em so they always know where the other is.

it’s gotta be fuyuhiko that finds him though, right? because like... angst. anyway, fuyuhiko finds this old underground bunker, and can’t open it by himself so he calls everybody over. akane, gundham and nekomaru manage to get it open, n peko has to literally hold fuyuhiko back to stop him just bolting down there as fast as he can.

they get to have a fucking cool fight scene when they’re down there, because I can’t resist letting Peko absolutely go off with her sword, and we saw what kinda mess akane and nekomaru can make fighting in the despair arc. those three people could definitely take down like 30 people between them, trust me on this one.

the worst part is when they get to the room that has hajime in it. the door got locked when whoever got him realised that they’d had a security breach, and it’s a proper lead door that won’t open for anybody and everybody has to repeatedly throw themselves against it in order to get it to open. everybody’s panicking, but there is nobody worse than fuyuhiko. like, to the point where some of them are worried that he’s gonna get his ass despaired again. but nobody says anything because main priority is hajime.

at some point, nagito started looking through the pockets of the people that got absolutely knocked tf out, and Lucky Him! he finds a key! it’s maybe the first time ever that fuyuhiko ever thanks him for something (and my god does he thank him like, he’s crying and while he’s a lil bit aggressive he’s so grateful) and they get in and find hajime hooked up to a ton of different machines.

you ever heard of project MKUltra? when the US government tested psychedelic drugs (particularly LSD) as a torture device/truth serum? yeah well, this is it! hajime is tripping absolute balls and not in a fun way, occasionally getting some electric shocks! why? well, it’s in the “doctor’s” file on the desk! because wouldn’t hajime also be the ultimate weapon if he’s the ultimate everything else? imagine having him as something that can be controlled, told what to do. you could end the world, overthrow a government, you name it!

mikan has to carefully remove the electrodes from him because he’s fighting her hard, but there isn’t a way to get him to stop tripping and freaking out until it passes, except to just straight up sedate him. they have no idea how long this has been happening to him or what he’ll be like when it’s over. mikan has to scrounge through everything that this place has to find something, and even though it takes a while she does eventually find a high enough dose sedative that will help without just making him OD and die. unfortunately, it has to go in through a needle.

historically, hajime isn’t good with needles. he’s even worse when he’s off his fucking face and having the very definition of a Bad Trip. he barely knows where he is, and there’s a part of him that does recognise the people around him but his brain isn’t working properly and he just can’t stop freaking out. he’s already restrained though, so it isn’t too hard to just quickly sedate him. fuyuhiko’s basically glued to him now, telling him he’s sorry and that he’ll be okay soon, that it’s gonna be alright.

luckily, without getting it directly and constantly, the effects of LSD only take around 12 hours to wear off. by the time they’re back at wherever they’re living, most of the hallucinations have worn off, but he’s quiet and hurt, and the electric buzzing kinda fried his brain a little bit - he’s still there, but izuru is basically the one in charge of the body right now since he’s letting hajime rest for now.

fuyuhiko still thinks izuru is a little weird, but like... he’s part of hajime, so he’ll put up with whatever bullshit izuru can throw at him. izuru isn’t as affectionate, but will hold his hand every so often and give him small smiles when he needs them, and it just feels good to have him back and safe. when hajime comes back again though, it takes a while before he can be left alone again. not that fuyuhiko is leaving his side basically ever now because he’s sure as hell not letting that happen ever again. and it takes him a while to heal, he never truly forgets or gets over what happened to him, but everybody’s there for him. he knows he has a family now, and everybody understands if he needs to go away for a little while and let izuru take care of the body when he can’t.

okay this got super long and i am very sorry but you threw this concept at me and i ran because i love angst so much, but the comforting after the angst is also so good.

#drabble #multi-fandom-trashbin #tw angst #tw drugs #tw human experimentation #my god this was so much fun to run with and write about #please never hesitate to send me more whenever the fuck you like

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kittybellestark · 4 years ago

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Back To The Beginning

This one shot literally took so long to write but I’m glad it’s finally finished. I didn’t think I’d ever get it done i stg. Basically Peter starts to remember his parents.

TW: Panic Attack, Blood, speaking about experimentation/torture.

“Tony, I need your help!!”

It’s 11:00pm on a non-patrol night. Peter is supposed to be in his apartment, it’s not the weekend so he definitely isn’t supposed to be here at night. Tony felt the anxiety build inside of him. hearing Peter ask for help was nearly unheard of, and for him to make an appearance at the lab this late at night was only something he did when injured too badly. This was unusual.

Looking up at Peter, Tony see’s he looks relatively not injured. Though Peter’s look is a cause for concern. He’s wearing pajamas and his face is red. Peter’s still wearing slippers and it’s obvious that he doesn’t have a wallet on him, only his phone. Which means Peter walked to the tower from Queens -as his webshooters are not on his wrists- but he most likely ran, judging by his red face and the beads of sweat on his forehead.

“What’s wrong?”

Tony was quick to move, getting Peter to sit down and drink water. The boys eyes were wide and frightened.

“Okay you’re going to think I’m insane because I think I’m insane but I promise this is real and I need help. Something is suspicious about May. And me. And my parents. Something is wrong Tony. I don’t think I’m unsafe but there’s something wrong here.”

“Start from the beginning kiddo. Keep your breathing easy. I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.”

Peter nodded. He looked ready to cry. He was obviously exhausted and Tony was trying to keep his cool from Peter bringing up May and how he’s suspicious of her. Peter was his kid and Tony would do anything to keep him safe.

“Right, yeah. So remember our talk last week, the one where I sorta told you I perceive you in a father figure way and then you saying you kinda think of me as a son? Well I talked to May about it because I felt guilty. Like I had a dad and an uncle who raised me and it just feels selfish and I just needed extra reassurance okay. And May was upset. And she said that it wasn’t fair to my father especially considering he died recently.” Peter paused. “My dad died when I was 6, Ben died just over a year ago and I know she didn’t get them confused.”

Tony went to talk, to reassure Peter or to comfort him but Peter kept going.

“I thought she was just confused. But then I found some pictures of when my parents were alive. And May and Ben were never there. I can find pictures of places they said I was with them and only them, but then the pictures are with my parents. So I did had Ned hack into my grandparents old medical files. Richard and Mary were both only children. Ben is not related to Richard. There’s no adoption forms or anything. So technically May and Ben aren’t my aunt and uncle right?”

“Pete-“

“No Tony, listen. There’s more. May and Ben always pushed for me to work at Oscorp right? That’s where my parents worked so it makes sense. But May had pushed it more since the spider bite which doesn’t make sense, even pushing it even though you’re a Stark and obviously I’m going to work at SI when I’m older. It doesn’t make sense. But I was thinking it’s a legacy thing. But no.

“It doesn’t make sense that I don’t remember anything before my parents died. Doctor’s said it was the trauma of my parents dying. But I was six I couldn’t have really understood that. Unless something also happened to me, which brings me to my next big woah moment. MJ has been having me meditate recently because it’s good for my mental health and whatnot. And I remember being on an airplane with my parents. There’s no evidence that I was ever on an airplane, except before I was six years old. But there’s a ticket under my name for the same day my parents died. And if I go into the airport security cameras on that day I am there. You can see me boarding the plane. So how could I live through a plane crash and not my parents. That doesn’t make sense, especially seeing as my whole life I was told I was staying with May and Ben when my parents died.

“Tony, none of this adds up. And let’s just circle back to the spider bite. That should have killed me. It would have killed any other human. To have lived through the bite I would have had to had been altered or experimented on to work genetically with the spiders they were using. That’s the only way I wouldn’t have died. Which means Oscorp knows about me being Spider-Man, which makes sense because they’ve approached me multiple times since gaining my powers to intern there, even before I met you.

“Something is really wrong, Tony. And I need help.”

Tony agreed to help Peter. Of course he did. The duo researches Mary and Richard Parker and then they research May and Ben Parker. May and Ben never existed before they took custody of Peter. Everything Peter said was backed up. There was evidence for everything.

Peter’s life no longer made sense and Tony feared for his sons safety.

“I’m not comfortable with you going home, kid. None of this adds up.”

Peter leaned forward resting against the work table nodding along to what Tony said. He wasn’t very comfortable either. How could he go home knowing his whole life has been a lie.

“I’ll stay tonight, but I have to go back. We need more proof. Maybe we can get a DNA sample from May.”

Huffing in frustration, Tony pinches the bridge of his nose feeling at a loss.

“When you go back home I’m going to give you some stuff to set up around your room. It’ll activate every time May walks in there, record what she’s doing and saying. It’ll alert me if she does anything to you. I’ll also talk to my lawyers.”

The next day Tony unwillingly brought Peter back home. With a bag full of bugs and cameras, all directly linked to FRIDAY who will tell Tony as soon as anything remotely suspicious were to happen. Peter was well aware of exactly where to put each microphone and camera and that they would only be activated with May’s presence.

Leaving Peter alone with May, felt impossible. Tony’s chest felt tight with anxiety, worried that this would be a bad idea, that his kid would wind up hurt in the end. Peter being left to May when the facts didn’t add up. Everything was a little too off yet so well put together with their small family that it seemed like a gust of wind could bring it all toppling to the ground.

From there is took a few hours before May got back to her apartment, then a little while later before she started talking about Peter’s future with Oscorp. At the end of the week Peter finally told Tony that he had a DNA sample from May.

As Peter entered the lab, toothbrush in hand, Tony had everything set up, FRIDAY ready to go through every person who has ever given DNA ever to find out who May is.

“What if I was kidnapped as a child?”

“Then the two of us figure it out. We do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Tony wraps his arms around Peter, letting the teen rest his head on Tony’s shoulder.

“Boss, I found a match, would you two like to hear?” FRIDAY finally said after an agonizing fifteen minutes.

Tony looked towards Peter, waiting for confirmation before answering. Peter stared at Tony, mouth open clearly hesitating about what to do. After a beat Peter finally nodded, and Tony gave FRIDAY the go-ahead.

“May Parker has a 100% DNA match to Mary Parker. I do apologize Peter, but it seems May is actually your mother.”

Everything went silent at that for Peter. His ears were ringing and the world went all fuzzy. He blinked back tears before taking a deep breath and nodding. Tony held both of Peter’s shoulders, keeping him grounded.

“Oh god, oh man, she lied to me. She lied a lot. She can’t be- she can’t. Tony, Tony, my whole life. She faked her death. And then got custody as me, and told me she’s my aunt. Oh no, that means Ben was probably- that I watched, Tony she said my Dad died recently, Tony I watched him get murdered. They lied to me. They lied.”

Tony pulled Peter into his arms, bringing the two of them to the ground. Peter ended up in Tony’s lap, head in the crook of his mentors shoulders. Tony started to rock the two of them, hoping to bring the sobbing boy some comfort.

~~~~~~

A week after finding out May was technically his biological mother, the nightmares set in for Peter. Well, more like repressed memories coming to him when he sleeps, but nightmares nonetheless. It was already a battle to get Tony to agree to let Peter go home, with promises that he would soon talk to May. Going to Tony about this now would only lead to Peter never going home.

Sleeping was hard though. Memories of being moved from facility to facility with Mary and Richard strapping him down and taking needles to his skin, injecting him with things that burned, that were so hot but also so cold. Watching Richard take a scalpel to his body, seeing Mary break his bones. Having his parents shock him until he tasted blood.

It wasn’t right. Peter knew it wasn’t right. He stops other parents from doing this to their kids. And now he’s here. He know’s he went through it, the abuse. But that was Mary and Richard. Not May and Ben. They may be the same, but the abuse, it hasn’t been since they started lying to him. Not since they pretended that Peter wasn’t their son. They’ve not hurt him like that since they faked their own death.

And yet Oscorp has been up his ass since Spider-Man. Doubled down since May found out. He’s been followed by people who may have put it together. Who may know his actual identity.

Peter know’s he should go to Tony. He know’s he should talk to May. Peter is acutely aware that he is an abused child. That his parents abused him. experimented on him. He shouldn’t have lived through the spider bite, not without previous experimentation. He’d be dead if it wasn’t for Mary and Richard or May and Ben, whoever they were. They saved his life with what they did.

But what if this was Ned’s life? Or MJ’s? OR Betty’s? Or even Flash? If this was literally anyone else’s life Peter wouldn’t stand for it. He wouldn’t let them think that everything was okay in their life. He would talk them out of it. He would support them and help them find other options. But this is his life. And now it’s different. And it shouldn’t be. Spider-Man stops this from happening to other children. Stops the abuse, helps get them into good homes. Yet Peter Parker isn’t doing anything for himself because as far as he’s aware it’s in the past.

Now Peter is sitting inside a restaurant with May. They’re supposed to be having dinner together. But he needs to know. He has questions and he wants the answers. His phone is on his lap recording, and he that Tony has Happy tailing him, which means he’s right outside if anything happens.

“So, uh, you know that MJ and I have been meditating together right? She says it’s good for people’s mental health and can help then deal with some personal stuff.” Peter starts saying once the food has arrived. May nods. “Well, I think it’s working. Which is great but I’m remembering some weird things from when Mary and Richard were alive.”

May raised her eyebrow, taking a think before she answers, the fork she was hold with chicken on the end twirling in the air.

“Are you sure about that Pete? I mean not to say I don’t believe you but the doctors have said it’s extremely unlikely that you’ll ever regain your memories from when your parents were alive. Are you sure you’re actually remember and not just creating these stories in your head about them again?”

“Wait what? Creating stories- again? May, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, honey. Please don’t tell me you repressed this. When you were you younger you created this whole story about how Mary and Richard would hurt you and take your blood and it was horrible. You worked yourself up into such a frenzy about it that Ben and I had to put you in a hospital to help you. You were in the hospital for months. Do you not remember that?” Peter shook his head. “Honey, if what you remember of your parents is them experimenting on you or whatever convoluted thing you made up then we need to get you some more help.”

Peter was confused. He didn’t remember May and Ben shipping him away. There’s no memory of going to a hospital or saying that his parents hurt him. Peter was sure that never happened. It couldn’t have. And for May to know what Peter was going to his what his memories were. That’s wrong. She knows. She knows.

“I ran a DNA test. I know you’re actually Mary.”

May or Mary whoever she is dropped her fork, her face showing her surprise.

“Peter, baby, I don’t know where you got that idea from but I’m not Mary, I’m not your mother. I don’t know how you made up this story now but you’re wrong. Get up Peter. We’re going to go get you some help.”

Heartbreaking, Peter felt his family shatter. For the first time in Peter’s life he looked at May and saw a stranger. To tell him he’s making this all up, that he needs help. She’s never done this before. May- Mary- May, she’d never make him feel like he was a liar. Peter had always felt validated by her. May didn’t even do this when Peter went to her about Skip.

May got up from the table grabbing Peter by his arm and trying to pull him up with her. Peter continued to stay seated, refusing to go with her. Wanted to finish this conversation before this family ended.

“Sit the fuck down, Mary. I’m not done yet.” Peter heard himself spit out, voice feeling detached.

Mary sat down across from her son, a scowl set on her face. Food forgotten, her foot tapping.

“I was on that plane too. I remember being there. There was never a May and Ben Parker before then. Don’t play dumb with me either, Mom, I go to the best school in New York that works in conjunction with the best colleges in the country. I have an internship with a certified genius and have helped develop products at SI, and regularly work with the top three smartest people in the world, and they don’t dumb things down so I can understand. I can keep up with them and I make them see things they didn’t before. I’ve corrected Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. Don’t tell me I’m crazy.”

The two stayed silent staring at each other. The server came around to check in and they only nodded. After ten minutes Mary finally broke the silence.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why did you fake your death, create identities that are literally related to me, but not fake my death? You told me you were dead for years. Why?”

“It was the only way to protect you without ruining your life. I did what I had to do.” Mary’s voice was cold in a way that Peter hasn’t heard since he was young, and strapped to a table.

“How could you ever protect me when you were to the one to hurt me. You and Richard. You strapped me to a table, poked me with needles, injected me with experimental drugs, broke my bones and cut me open and shocked me when I didn’t do what you wanted me too. I was a child and you tortured me.”

“You think I wanted to? You’re my baby. I didn’t want to do those things, but I had too.”

“Why?”

“Peter, we’re done, we’re going.”

“Not until you answer me.”

“We’re leaving.”

“Answer me, Mary.”

“Oscorp. Norman Osborn. That’s why.”

Peter nodded. It was what he was expecting. Of course he was. He just wanted it to be different. He wanted Mary to say anything else. But it was her job. She got paid to do those things to him. Mary could have said no, could have quit her job. Richard too. They could have done something. Anything.

It was a choice. They chose their jobs over him. They valued Peter as a lab rat, and their job as their child. Peter wasn’t important. Not to Mary, not to Richard. Not in the way he should have been.

“Alright.” Peter said. “I can’t go home with you. I can’t trust you anymore. I’m sorry Mary, but this just isn’t working with us anymore. Someone will be in contact.”

They made eye contact again. And Peter finally stood up. He tapped a button on the watch he was given from Tony, only tapped it once, to let Happy know he needs a ride, to let Tony know he needs him. His phone went into his pocket.

Just as his back turned to Mary, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. There was the sound of gun being cocked behind him. The people in the restaurant as gasped and screamed, chairs moving and people trying to shuffle away. Peter turned back around seeing May holding a gun, aiming it right at him.

“You’re not going to Tony. Tony motherfucking Stark doesn’t get to lay claim to you. You are mine Peter. You are my child, you are my responsibility, you are mine and you are coming home with me. Now put your hands up baby, I can’t have you calling him. We need to go. You need help. We have to go see the doctor.”

She was shaking, tears running down her face. All Peter could see was his aunt. He could only see May. He couldn’t see Mary and that made it hurt more. He raised his hands, putting them behind his head. He found the his watch easily, clicking the buttons in rapid succession, as many times necessary to get help as soon as possible.

“May, May, please. You can’t- please. You hurt me. Over and over again. It was your choice. Please don’t hurt me anymore. Put the gun down, please. You know I won’t go willingly. I won’t, I will let you shoot me. Kill me, May, do to me what was done to Ben-Richard. Make sure no one can ever have me if you can’t. It’s the only way you can keep me safe right? By making sure I’m dead?” Peter sobbed, moving slowly onto his knees, trying to not be a threat to Mary. “You are scaring me. I used to feel safe with you May. You made me feel safe. But Mary, I don’t feel safe with you. I’d rather be dead then go to whatever place you want me too. You either need to kill me, or let me go to Tony. Either way he’ll make sure you go to jail. But I’ll try and get him to lighten up the sentence if you let me walk out of here tonight.”

Peter was crying. And near incoherent, he wanted things to be normal. He wanted his Aunt May and he wanted to be at home watching a bad hallmark movie throwing popcorn at the tv. He wanted them to order cheap takeout food when May inevitably burnt dinner.

He could see the people trapped in the restaurant in them taking videos of them. He knew this was probably live on Facebook or Instagram or Tiktok or wherever they post live videos now. Tony was without a doubt watching when FRIDAY picked up his face online. Everyone at school would probably see this, him begging Mary to kill him instead of kidnapping him.

Peter could hear the sound of repulsors, both of the suit and of the quinjet. He knew Mary only had limited time before Tony got here, and only a little bit more time before whatever available Avengers show up. Happy was probably busy securing the perimeter for the police. Or maybe he was working to get some of the hostages out.

“I don’t want to kill you Pete. I don’t want to kill you, it’s the last thing I want to do. So you need to come with me. You cannot go to Tony Stark. He can’t solve your problems. Let’s go. We can be together, forever. We can finally be the family I always wanted us to be. The family you always wanted to have. Mother and Son. We wouldn’t be Aunt and Nephew now that you know.”

Mary was shaking, her face red, finger on the trigger, safety turned off. She was ready to shoot her son, her child, her baby. She was fighting a losing battle. She said all the wrong things and she’s acting the wrong way.

Iron Man touched down outside.

“You have a minute Mary, let me leave, Tony is outside. It’ll be better if you let me go.” It was a final plea, he knew it probably wouldn’t do anything but it was worth the shot.

There was a beat of silence.

“If I can’t have you then no one can.” Her voice was cold.

A repulsor charged. Mary was out of time. They both knew it.

A shot rung out.

The window shattered.

Mary flew to the side.

Peter fell backwards.

Tony charged in.

Mary lost her grip on the gun, it skidded across the restaurant floor. Far out of her reach. She pushed herself away, trying to escape Iron Man. The attempt was in vain. Tony stood over her, face plate on the suit flicked up.

“You’re done Mary. You don’t get to hurt him anymore.”

The Avengers swarmed in detaining Mary, working on getting the hostages out, having them checked by medical.

“She shot me.” Peter cried out, trying to suck in air.

Tony turned to Peter, seeing the boy lying down. Pool of blood around him. A gun shot wound to the stomach. Peter was smiling teeth stained red. Tony broke out of his suit, skidding to his knees beside him. Tony put pressure on the wound trying to smile at Peter, to try and comfort his kid.

“Peter, kid, I’m right here. I’m right here bambino, it’s okay. She’s not going to hurt you anymore. You’re gonna move in with me, I’ve already got all the paperwork sort out. I promise you kid, you’ve got a home with me. I love you kid, it’s okay, we’ll be okay eventually.”

Peter nodded, tears streaming down his face. He didn’t hurt anymore, nothing hurt.

“I’m sorry Tony. I’m sorry. That was stupid of me. I shouldn’t’ve confronted her. She tried to kill me.” He coughed up blood. “I thought she’d tell me it was a lie. Mary never loved me.”

“It’ll be okay bambi, I’ve got you now.”

~~~~~

Peter woke up in the medbay. The lights were dimmed, Tony was asleep with his head on the Peter bed, Tony’s hand resting on Peter’s. The window’s were tinted so he couldn’t see out, and the door was closed most of the way closed. Peter grabbed a cup of water sitting on the nightstand, taking a sip and putting it back down.

“Tony?” Peter whispered, waking the man up.

“Hey Pete,” Tony smiled once he woke up, voice still sleepy, eyes willed with worry. “You comfortable? Can I get you anything? Whatever you need kid, I’ll get it for you.”

“She tried to kill me, Tony. She’d rather me dead, then alive with you. She’s the reason I’m like this. She made me a freak. Because of her I’m some mutant. She never loved me.”

“Oh Peter.” Tony sighed as Peter started sobbing.

Tony got up, crawling into the bed with Peter careful not to irritate the wound. He wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him into his chest. Peter sobbed harder, clinging to Tony.

“You’re no freak Peter. You’re not just some mutant either. You are my kid though, my son, even if not biologically. You are so important to me Peter. I’m so sorry I couldn’t take care of you. I’m so sorry that Mary lied to you you’re whole life, but you’re my kid okay? You are Peter Parker or whoever you want to be. I’m proud of you. You deserved to be loved, bambino.”

“I don’t even want to be a Parker anymore. I don’t want to be related to my parents anymore.”

Tony wiped the tears off his son’s face. They made eye contact, Peter’s red glassy eyes and Tony’s watery eyes.

“Then be a Stark. Or a Carbonell. Or a Potts. Or whatever other last name there is that isn’t mine or Peppers. Right. Be a Hogan or a Rhodes. You can have whatever last name you could possibly want. Rogers. Barton. Romanoff. Banner. Odinson. Maximoff. Barnes. Wilson. You don’t have to be a Parker if you don’t want to be. But personally I like the sound of you being Peter Stark, though Peter Potts has a nice ring to it too. We could hyphenate too.”

Peter laughed. “Peter Stark-Potts-Rogers-Barton-Romanoff-Banner-Odinson-Maximoff-Barnes-Wilson? Is that what you want my name to be.”

“No you silly goose. Maybe Peter Stark-Potts. Or Peter Potts-Stark. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I won’t judge. Basically I wanted to say that Pepper and I want to keep custody of you. We currently have temporary custody, because it’s up to you. We didn’t want you left out. And eventually we’d like to adopt you too.” Tony paused for a beat. “But, I feel like we’re having this conversation entirely too soon and I should let you grieve first. Mary’s not dead, that was the wrong word. She’s alive. But I figured you’d be grieving the family you lost. So we can talk about this down the line. When you’re comfortable. But Pep and I will need to know the custody thing soon at least. Gotta keep CPS off our asses at some point.”

“Tony?”

Tony hummed in response.

“Thank you.”

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ninja-go-to-therapy · 4 years ago

Text

Febuwhump 5: “Take Me Instead”

Cömmenté? Validátion? Please?

Summary: The triplets get kidnapped by evil scientists. It’s about as bad as it sounds.

Trigger Warnings: broken bones, torture, kidnapping, human experimentation

1560 words

There were three cells.

Three glass cages, all spaced out evenly. But only one was in use. The triplets had been shoved in there by some faceless people in lab coats hours ago.

For a long time, nothing happened. The triplets were left alone, and while that should have been a comfort, it only served to put them on edge. They had no idea what these people wanted with them.

They didn’t like the look of the lab coats.

A door opened, and a few of the people filed in, their focus primarily on clipboards and tablets that they were holding.

As they approached their cage, Huey put himself in front of his brothers definitively. If they wanted to get to them, they’d have to go through him first. And he would not let them get to Dewey or Louie.

But they didn’t actually do anything. They stood at various points, all a few feet from the cage, just looking at them. Looking at them and writing things on their tablets and clipboards. They weren’t even trying to get closer.

Huey clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to get rid of the gross sensation of vulnerability that was quickly descending upon him. They were so exposed like this. It was creepy.

Occasionally the people would change position slightly, moving around the cage and observing the boys all the while. What were they doing?

It dragged on for a while. The room wasn’t silent, per se, but the lack of noise was still driving him mad. On occasion, the people would talk to each other, but it was always so quiet that they couldn’t hear them through the glass.

They were being observed like a 4th grade science project, and Huey didn’t like it.

Just as these thoughts surfaced, something finally changed.

A few of the people set aside their things, and then, with the press of a few buttons, the door to their cell opened.

Dewey took a tiny step forward, but Huey put his arm in front of him, effectively stopping him from continuing.

Dewey didn’t argue.

The three of them watched warily as the people approached the cage swiftly.

The thing was big enough that these obviously-adults could step in no problem, even if it was a little cramped. But they didn’t stay for long.

They grabbed Louie, ignoring his startled yelp, and began to drag him out.

“Wait, stop!” Huey demanded, trying to free his brother from the people’s grip. “Where are you taking him?”

They just bat him away like he was an insignificant fly. Huey was right back at Louie’s side in an instant, clawing at them. Dewey was on the other side of Louie, throwing hits and doing his best to help.

But these people were so much bigger than them, and they were outnumbered, too. Huey and Dewey were nothing but a minor inconvenience to them, and before long, they’d successfully dragged Louie from the cage, the other two still locked inside.

“What are you doing?” Huey asked, growing desperate.

“Hey, we can talk this out, can’t we?” Louie attempted, grunting as he was practically manhandled. “Stop dragging me!”

His struggling hardly deterred them, and he was forced over to an area of the room filled with weird machinery. There were computers, what looked like a hospital bed, and, most notably, this giant machine that had two very thick metal plates, sitting vertically from each other.

It took two of the people to hold Louie down once they’d all but thrown him on the gurney-type-thing.

“Come on, I’m sure you have better things to do than — hey!” Louie cried, helpless as his arms were strapped down.

The machine from before, the big one, was brought to life, and Huey’s stomach began twisting in knots.

“What are you doing?” he asked again, pushing against the glass like it would suddenly give way if he just didn’t stop trying.

The other people were still just taking notes like they had nothing better to be doing.

Louie’s leg, his left one, was forcefully placed between the two metal plates, and just when Huey understood and a cold horror settled over him, the gap between the plates began to close.

“Oh my god!” Dewey shouted at the same time as Louie gave a pained cry, the plates meeting on either side of his leg.

Louie grit his teeth, grimacing in pain.

“Increasing pressure,” someone mumbled, and though it didn’t look like the plates had moved, Louie’s panic made it clear what was happening.

Dewey and Huey threw themselves against the glass with a renewed vigor, banging against it. “Stop it!” Dewey said, bashing his body against the wall.

“Do you feel anything?” one of the scientists asked.

“Excuse me?”

“In your leg,” she clarified.

“I — no? My brother is the one you’re hurting, and if you don’t stop it right now, you’ll regret it!” Huey shouted, slamming against the glass yet again.

“Increase pressure,” the woman instructed.

At Louie’s pained scream, the other two grew frantic. “Take me instead!” Dewey insisted. “Just stop hurting him! Take me! Please!”

The otherwise unoccupied people were furiously scribbling down notes like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Oh god,” Louie was saying, repeating it over and over again like a prayer. Maybe it was. “If — if you stop, and let us go, we can get you money. I’m talking thousands — millions! Whatever you want, okay? Just — gah! Please!” he begged, voice strained with cries he was struggling to hold back.

“Do you feel anything?” one of the others repeated.

“Let him go!” Dewey demanded.

One of the men let out an angry, throaty sort of sound something akin to a growl. “Increasing pressure,” he said, and though the boys couldn’t see his face, they knew he was glaring. It was easy to hear, with a tone like that.

Louie screamed so loud it made Huey’s ears ring, followed by a noise that was somehow even louder. Somehow even worse. A horrible crack resonated through the air, and as a screeched sob tore itself from Louie’s throat, Dewey and Huey were right back to screaming, too.

They were yelling so much that even Huey was having trouble differentiating between himself and Dewey’s words, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was what they’d done to Louie. All that mattered was that somehow, they needed to get them to stop.

Wordlessly, the scientists began resetting the machine so that Louie’s leg was released, and he was unstrapped from the gurney.

Something that might have been hope blossomed in Huey’s chest. When they put Louie back in, he could get out. And he would make them regret everything they’d just done.

But they didn’t bring him back to the cage. Instead, they released him, watching as he collapsed to the floor.

“Get up.”

“I can’t,” Louie sobbed.

They roughly dragged him to his feet. “Walk.”

“W-walk?” he sniffled, confused.

“Walk back and forth along this area.”

Louie whimpered, taking a shaky step forward. He wailed at the pain, but took another step anyway, dragging his broken leg behind him in a limp.

Back and forth. They wouldn’t let him stop no matter how much any of them cried or begged. Louie mostly just cried. Like he didn’t think it was worth it to argue.

They asked Huey and Dewey if they felt anything again. Huey, despite the faint gross feeling in his own leg, just glared at them. He didn’t know what they were talking about, but everyone felt wrong and twisted when watching other people get injured. Especially when it was his brother, who he was supposed to protect. He wasn’t supposed to let anything bad happen to him, and yet…

“Fuck you!” Dewey spat, and for once, Huey wasn’t about to lecture him about language.

Louie finally collapsed with a broken cry, gripping his leg. “I can’t,” he said through tears, “It hurts, I can’t…”

Huey had never seen Louie so… openly distraught. Then again, he’d also never seen Louie tortured by evil scientists, so.

One of the scientists approached Louie calmly, patting him on the head in a way that seemed like it was meant to be fond. Louie flinched away.

They pulled a lollipop from the pocket of their lab coat, pressing it into Louie’s hand. “For good behavior,” they said. Huey shuddered in disgust.

Two more of the scientists came over and finally, finally all but dragged him back into the cage. The second he was released, he collapsed on the floor, Huey and Dewey by his side in an instant.

The door closed before Huey could lunge at them.

“It hurts,” Louie admitted, curling against his brothers weakly. “It hurts so much.”

“I know,” Huey said, running his hands through Louie’s hair helplessly. “We’re… we’re gonna be okay. Uncle Donald will come for us. And Uncle Scrooge, and mom, too. I bet they’ll be here within an hour.”

Louie screwed his eyes shut tight, nodding. Huey and Dewey shared a nervous look. It had already been hours. Where was their family? Shouldn’t they have been saved by now? What was taking them so long?

“Test #1 was a failure,” one of the scientists was saying. “However, Subject 3 was much more cooperative than expected. Test #2 will commence tomorrow.”

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yellowmagicalgirl · 4 years ago

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Instead of letting me sleep, my brain decided to come up with a krexie au last night. CW for unethical experimentation, torture, and kidnapping, all of which happen to a pair of teenagers

During the chaos of the Eternal Night, Area 49-B is there. Douxie uses his magic to try to protect himself and others. (And also to gain revenge on the Gumm-Gumms because they killed at least one of his family members.) Area 49-B knows rumors about the existence of wizards, and they’re glad to capture Douxie as a specimen. They tranquilize him and slap a pair of handcuffs with adjustable settings that let them control just how much of his magic he can use. They then force him into a cage and a hospital gown, and begin running tests on him.

Less than 48 hours later, Krel is being reckless and walking around alone without his transduction. Area 49-B captures Krel, strips him of his weapons and clothing, and forces him into a quickly-altered four-armed hospital gown. Due to logistical purposes of having captured two specimens in about as many days, Krel’s cage gets placed right next to Douxie’s. Both of them resist the experimentation, to no one’s surprise. To the surprise of Kubritz, Douxie and Krel try to communicate in a vaguely friendly manner, so she tests a theory.

Douxie’s handcuffs are turned to their lowest setting, and he has to watch Krel get beaten. Douxie then unleashes a powerful storm of magic at the outrage at this, powerful and angry enough that he ends up using a bit of dark magic. Kubritz then turns Douxie’s handcuffs back to their highest setting (so he can’t use any magic) and has him knocked out again.

When Douxie and Krel wake up again, they’re in the same cage. They’re given the verdict: if one of them resists the experimentation, then the other is going to receive punishment for it. They mostly stop resisting, but only mostly because trying to get away from pain is an instinct that wizards and akiridions both share, and not an easy one to shut down even when trying to protect someone else.

Area 49-B keeps the lights on constantly, and constantly makes enough noise that it’s hard for the boys to sleep. Still, they try to sleep in shifts, just so they can try to keep each other slightly safer.

Lots of handholding and cuddling for warmth/comfort happen when the two of them are in the cage together.

Krel: I feel like we may have met before all this. Just briefly, though. Douxie, trying to squash down his burgeoning gay feelings because now is not the time: I think I’d remember meeting someone as amazing as you. Krel: I have a human disguise, I just can’t use it right now. Douxie: Oh, did you attend Arcadia Oaks Academy? Krel: There’s more than one school for people our age in that town? And no, I spent a couple parsons... I think you’d call them weeks? At the High, not the Academy.

Area 49-B installs a device in Krel’s body that allows them to force him to change forms. This is incredibly painful for him, as opposed to normal transduction. Sometimes they do this for the sole purpose of trying to figure out how different substances will affect him in human vs akiridion form. Sometimes they’ll force him to change forms just to punish him and Douxie.

Douxie, stroking Krel’s hair to comfort him after he’s been forced to become human again: I figured it out! I think. Krel: Figured what out? Douxie: Where we might have met before; you were in the Battle of the Bands, right? Krel: I remember now. You were in it, too, right? Douxie: Yeah. I’ll admit, your genre of music isn’t normally my thing, but you were mesmerizing. I remember thinking that you were so beautiful, and that I wanted to get to know you better. Not like this, of course. And not that you’re not beautiful in your true form, but I’ve had other things on my mind.

Despite Douxie basically confessing to having a crush on Krel, and despite Krel being a genius, Krel is oblivious when it comes to feelings.

Sergeant Costas’s heel-face turn starts earlier, because he has a hard time stomaching the torture of two teenage boys who look like humans. This sentiment might also affect some of the other members of Area 49-B, but most of them (try to) stomach it because these kids aren’t human (nevermind that a lot of the evidence points to Douxie being human or human-adjacent), and they’re just following orders.

Douxie and Krel are able to break out of their cage by knocking out a guard. Afterwards, they start running, trying to find a way out, and also a way to get Douxie’s handcuffs off of him. Unfortunately, they are sleep deprived and malnourished.

At the same time, Aja, Stuart, the Blanks, Zadra, and maybe Toby+the Creepslayerz are raiding Area 49-B, trying to find both Stuart’s ship and Krel. Aja and Zadra find Krel’s clothes and serrator, as well as Douxie’s clothing. They then find Krel and Douxie, trying and failing to fight back.

Aja: Aww, Krel made a friend. Zadra: How???

Aja cuts off Douxie’s handcuffs and hands Krel back his serrator. Afterwards, they fight their way back out and to the taco truck, where they drive away. Krel and Douxie end up passing out in the back as they drive back to Arcadia, still holding hands.

When Douxie gets home, Archie has been worried sick about him, fearing the worst, and then he sees how Douxie now has white bangs from using dark magic. Archie starts to lecture Douxie, but almost immediately afterwards Douxie breaks down sobbing due to the whole ordeal, and Archie immediately switches to trying to comfort his wizard. Douxie then finds out that he’s been fired from the restaurant because he didn’t call in for at least two weeks. He’s barely able to keep his job at the magic shop. Stuart ends up hiring him to work part time at Stuart Electronics, half out of pity and half because he needs some extra help now that he’s dealing with bounty hunters.

With the help of Mother and Izita, Zadra takes the device out of Krel. Afterwards, it takes a while for Douxie to be able to watch Krel change forms and not immediately wince despite Krel reassuring him that this form of transduction isn’t painful. (Krel is very nervous before using transduction because he has trauma.)

Douxie ends up joining up with the Meme Team as an ally against Morando and Kubritz. Everyone other than Krel can see that he has a painfully obvious crush on Krel.

There are multiple nights where Douxie and Krel can’t sleep (too dark, too bright, nightmares, too quiet, too loud, etc.) so they end up staying up and texting each other. Archie steals Douxie’s phone at least once in an attempt to get them to sleep.

Krel slowly realizes that he has romantic feelings for Douxie. This realization is impeded because he’s not sure if they’re really romantic or if they’re just a product of just how much he and Douxie depended on each other for a sense of security back in Area 49-B. (They might be both.)

Krel’s crush isn’t as painfully obvious as Douxie’s is, but it’s still rather obvious to everyone other than Douxie.

Eli quietly weighs the horror of Krel dating someone from their rival school against the fact that Krel managed to find happiness despite the horror he went through at Area 49-B and decides that, unlike with Mary, he’s not going to say anything.

Summer school is worse for Krel, and slightly worse for Aja, than it was in canon.

Dealing with the asteroid is more emotionally difficult, because as little as Krel and the others trust Area 49-B, they also don’t want Arcadia Oaks to be destroyed. Douxie stays behind, trying to research a spell to shield the town, but he’s unable to cast it. Costas discretely lets Tronos go, which means that Morando isn’t able to kill him.

Krel: I wish you and Steve would be a little more discreet about being gushy and romantic in front of me. Aja: Those are big words considering that you and Douxie are almost always flirting with each other. Krel: Krel: Wait, what? Krel: You think he might like me back??? Aja: Sometimes I wonder why you’re considered the smart sibling out of the two of us.

When Costas comes to deliver information on Morando, Archie threatens to remove his hand, eyes, and tongue should Costas respectively touch, look at funny, or speak threateningly towards Douxie (and as an afterthought, Archie decides that those threats also apply to if Costas does the same to Krel. And as a secondary afterthought, Archie states that Costas will still lose body parts if he does any of the above to any of the people working against Morando).

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somegremlin-archive3 · 4 years ago

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— ✕ 『 ★ HEADCANON - The Entity The Goddess ★ 』 ✕

— LORE.

The following headcanon contains triggers including blood, death, maternal death during childbirth, child abuse, human ( child ) experimentation, religion, drugs ( in the human experimentation sense ), and cults. The premise of the following headcanon involves the cult and the Goddess it worshipped, Izanami no Mikoto or Izanami for short. The headcanon also discusses the entity possessing the Dogra Magra doll.

— THE BEGINNING.

There were two deities, Izanami no Mikoto and her husband, Izanagi no Kami, charged with the creation of the world. The two deities performed their RIGHTFUL duties, forging plentiful land and beautiful seas through their own two hands. And as the two deities were united through marriage, they created several more islands across the ocean’s waves. However, as Izanami gave birth to one more child, she passed in childbirth. Blinded by rage, Izanagi KILLED that child and began a quest to the underworld in the hopes of cheating death and returning his beloved to the living.

However, it was already too late for Izanami as she had consumed food of the dead and with those actions, lost both her ETHEREAL BEAUTY and any chance of being able to RETURN to the living.

Humiliated by her grotesque appearance, Izanagi decided to flee … but embarrassed by HIS arrival and his betrayal of their love, Izanami attempted to chase him down. And for the last time, she promised him

‘ I will strangle and kill one thousand men of your land in one day ! ‘

But that was not enough.

— DESCENT INTO MADNESS.

The circles of life and death still spun and in time, while Izanami could not return to the living as the Goddess she once was, she was reborn and reincarnated for centuries. And in every life, her goal was the same; to take away the lives of others purely out of spite and hatred borne from the betrayal at the world’s creation.

And in one life, she was truly a GODDESS.

Izanami was born as a woman with a truly HORRIFIC ability; a curse based ability she herself dubbed ‘ Dogra Magra ‘. The ability itself was a FRIGHTENING ONE; able to induce madness and death unto those that drew her blood and sparked her fury

The goddess arose in a Japanese shrine; full of listless, sullen people who had lost their faith in other Gods. These people had long since lost hope; having placed their praise in other Gods; only to have suffered many tragedies; including the untimely deaths of their Miko and Kannushi and the slaughter of members from other, more corrupt cults and power struggles within the cult. And thus, they cried out in sorrow; speaking out things like ‘ Why are we met with cruelty when we have devoted our lives to God ? ‘. As she heard these cries, she CURSED her past husband that forced them into lives they never once asked for and took charge of the shrine.

She formed a new religion; one based off BLOODSHED and MURDER. Her followers; driven by despair and agony, began to KILL all those that dared to enter; even make eye contact with one of their own. Those she even deemed ‘ worthy ‘ willingly subject themselves to a HORRIFIC ritual that allowed her to share her cursed ability with others. Many people SUFFERED … but it was all in the name of the new Miko and how she allowed, even ENCOURAGED people to lash out at the atrocious world she and her former husband created.

But another tragedy struck.

— THE BIRTH OF HER CHILD.

Despite the mistakes of her past life, she eventually falls in love with one of her most devoted followers and promotes him to Kannushi. For years, their marriage flourished … until one day, the Kannushi proposed to have a CHILD. There’s hesitation at the very idea; the PAIN her body endured before her body soon succumbed to the blood loss. And all of that agony was for NOTHING as her past husband murdered her own flesh and blood. But she agrees.

Soon, a child was conceived and for months, the pregnancy seemed fine. Until the day came when she was to give birth.

What should have been a smooth delivery was HELL for the woman. In the end, her husband had to sever her stomach and pull the child out as she passed.

So traumatic was the event, Izanami’s spirit refused to move on or wait until her next reincarnation. She feared what her husband would do to the child as her past lover DESTROYED her flesh and blood. Rather than move on, she manages to merge herself with the child; granting them her cursed ability without the bloody ritual.

That child would eventually be known as the Port Mafia’s greatest weapon, Yumeno Kyusaku.

— LIFE UNDER THE CULT.

Many of the cult members had mixed opinions about the newborn child. There were certain members that detested the child; having believed the child would bring RUINATION unto the cult as their birth had robbed them of their beloved Miko that taught them the truth of the world. Other members sensed something DIVINE of the child and believed that they would lead the cult down a bloody path into salvation. Their father was of the latter.

Believing that their child should be the one to replace the lost Miko, their father showed them no love, only teaching them of the darkness of the world and how everything ended in chaos and pain. And when the child was barely two, their father would put them through those same DARK, BLOODY RITUALS that the chosen ones had to go through to proclaim the Miko’s ability … even when those should have stopped with her death.

And for little reason did the child suffer, for they already HAD her powers. They already HAD her ability. The only problem was that they were a young child that couldn’t control the powers of a vengeful deity when the ADULTS could.

That act alone ENRAGED Izanami … but for once, she held back. Surely, the cult was only doing this for the sake of the beliefs SHE had instilled in them ! Surely, this was all out of undying devotion to her, even after her demise. And surely, their child would make a good replacement for her in her passing

Wrong.

With her death, the child was the only person left in their cult with this horrific ability, the child was subjected to the GRUESOME task of killing and torturing anyone the cult deemed fit. The child suffered relentless abuse and the only thing the child had left was a DOLL their mother left behind.

Normally, these bloodied acts would have pleased the Goddess … but seeing her child suffer in agony when they were forced to kill or seeing them be violently tortured for even hesitating or failing to kill only sparked her anger MORE.

And her anger influenced the child’s thoughts. The child still had their OWN firm beliefs; despair over what had befallen them and a constant questioning of WHY they were always met with cruelty. And yet with those thoughts came more VIOLENT thoughts. What if everyone just DIED ? Wouldn’t that be better ? DIDN’T THEY ALL DESERVE TO BE CURSED ?

Izanami realized she was right all along. She was a fool to create this cycle. Cult or not, all life that was created on this hellscape she herself made deserved nothing less than a BLOODY, PAINFUL DEATH.

Eventually, the child completely loses control and their own curse takes over; ravaging the ENTIRE CULT and destroying the damned religion that their mother created.

But that was only the beginning.

— GOVERNMENT TAKEOVER.

Eventually, the government finds the lost child wandering through the woods and KIDNAPS them, placing them in a government assigned orphanage to be researched on. Through records left behind from the cult, the government was able to get a good idea of just WHAT the child was.

The government tried to use the child for their own gain, employing a certain researcher to experiment on the child to find a way to manipulate the ability WITHOUT having the child around. That fails (more on this will be written in a separate HC) and the researcher only manages to partially separate the deity from the child and place it into the doll they carried; resulting in a less stable control over the ability and dooming them to never have full control; even if they grow up. Eventually, the government gives up and dumps them at the Port Mafia grounds. But of course, not without telling Mori what they DO know about them.

— THE PRESENT

Due to the meddling of the government, the child struggles to keep their ability under control. Even if they had not had morals, they still struggle to CURSE people on command sometimes. Yet on the other end of the spectrum, there are also times they just lose control altogether and black out; letting the curse take COMPLETE control of them and their actions to cause bloodshed; such as the incident in which they cursed Mori along with some of his other men or the incident in which they cursed the entirety of Yokohama.

Izanami herself, although partially bound to the doll, can still greatly influence their emotions and spike them to dangerous extremes. She cannot be a constant voice in their head; although sometimes, she can get through intrusive thoughts or nightmares.

Their more surreal, horrific nightmares that they CANNOT explain although somewhat a product of the sheer amount of drugs that are often used on them in the mafia and their own mental illness creating awful things, are also visions of Izanami’s first life and death. Often times, they see a strange woman dwelling in the world of the Dead. However, if asked, they’d have NO IDEA what they’re looking at.

Izanami herself has devolved into an entity of PURE CHAOS and BLOODSHED; any sense of creation and life she once had in her initial life lost. The only being upon the earth she actually holds in any regard is her own child, Yumeno. However, her own sense and trauma are so twisted and so far beyond repair; she’s hellbent on destroying indiscriminately the one thing stopping her the lack of control the child actually has over the ability.

Yumeno is only vaguely aware of just WHO the entity is. Save for the mentions of something called ‘ Izanami ‘ around them by researchers and by Mori, they only know that there is something bad in them and their doll. Around other ability users that they already know but aren’t comfortable with, they call their doll ‘ Dogra Magra ‘ or ‘ Dogra ‘ for short. However, due to these names plus a strange … feeling they have, they call their doll ‘ Nami ‘ when alone or around random people asking about their ugly doll.

#blood tw #gore tw #child abuse tw #abuse tw #religion tw #cults tw #pregnancy tw #death tw #drugs tw #human experimentation tw #ask to tag #╰ (✪∀<) ~ *:･ﾟ✧ It hurts to be forced to feel the heart’s break. ✧ 𝐇𝐂.#// I KNOW I CHANGED THE LORE 32098490234 TIMES #// AND WHAT THE DOLL IS NAMED #// BUT I THINK THIS IS THE ACTUAL FINAL TIME #// but this didnt actually change what i had already written too much?#// just that its parent and not parents since yumeno's mom died

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avengerofiron · 4 years ago

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the people who built me || danny & tony

summary: tony has a choice to make when he encounters iron fist during an enforcer patrol. he chooses family. (solo incoming when lola gets time about The Consequences TM - sorry tony)

when: a few days before the siege

word count: 10,094 (we thought we were brief. we were not.)

trigger warnings: torture mention, abuse mention, death mentions

featuring: danny rand

TONY: Everyone made mistakes. It was a fundamental part of life — a fundamental part of science — to do something once, find out where you went wrong, and improve on it for the next situation that came your way. That innovation was what Tony lived for, what he breathed every single day in Stark Industries or as he acted as Iron Man. It was innovation that other people boasted about, too, until the point where mistakes became too much for them to simply brush off, when mistakes were too large to sweep under the rug, that’s when things got dicey.

Tony Stark had a habit of making things dicey.

The Sentinels weren’t his doing, though. For once, he wasn’t the guy in the room to create the targeting system, or the artificial intelligence, or even the giant, maniacal robots designed for one purpose and one purpose alone. These robots were created by men before Tony was even born, years before most kids would remember their first appearance on the scene just after the events went down in Cuba.

Their design needed a little work. Tony could say that with certainty. Their morality needed a complete overhaul, and if Tony could see that, if he could spot it a mile off with no hesitation, he didn’t see how they were going to spin it to make the public agree — but they did. They did, even if Ross stepped into every meeting with a face that looked like he’d been chewing on a wasp because his ass had been well and truly handed to him by the World Security Council. . Security. Sometimes it came at the cost of what really mattered in life. Sometimes, in the process of making a better world, you destroyed the old one that was perfect in its own unique way. Sometimes, people needed a little bad to make the good worth it.

Tony was still learning that. Of course, it was a little hard to learn with Ross breathing down his neck, the warning lingering on the horizon of every decision he made or didn’t make in the field.

He couldn’t afford to mess up. He couldn’t afford to make a dicey mistake, couldn’t afford to pull a Tony Stark.

Inevitably, that was exactly what would happen.

The Sentinels tracking system picked up an anomaly that wasn’t significant enough to investigate, but enough to suggest that something not entirely above board was going down in Hell’s Kitchen. Someone had latent powers they were aware not to use was one of the suggestions thrown around the meeting room. Others said it could be a fault with the system. Either way it needed checking out, and enforcement agents had been put on clean up duty while the robots handled the real, perceptible threats that they didn’t need to negotiate with. . Not just enforcement agents — Tony, specifically. Iron Man, glorified janitor, delegated to the bottom of the pile for the past month because he dared not to disclose some minorly crucial facts to his employers.

Bastards.

“You’ve reached the point of the fluctuation, boss,” FRIDAY informed him through the helmet’s sound system. “So far I’m picking up a single heat signature other than your own.”

“Tell me it isn’t burning up,” Tony replied. “I’ve had enough of fire people for one lifetime.”

“I wasn’t with you during that one, boss. Must’ve been the other computer.”

“Must’ve been.”

“The temperature signal appears human. They’re moving slowly — no adrenaline spike as of yet. I would suggest landing before things get nasty.”

“When have you ever known my missions to get nasty?” Tony asked. FRIDAY remained conspicuously silent, but her presence was noted. Tony could almost imagine her rolling her eyes. “Alright, darling. Let’s get this show on the road.” . He landed on the pavement in the alleyway, hand up and palm glowing. “Hi there,” he announced, voice robotic but not nearly as warped as he would like it to be. (Doing things you fundamentally disagreed with was easier when you were wearing a mask, he had found — Iron Man had always been more of his true self than Tony Stark, billionaire playboy.) “I’m Iron Man, you’re in breach of the Sokovia Accords, and we’re going to need to have a little chat. If you don’t mind, come easily and this’ll all be—”

The figure turned. The way he moved was as familiar as someone stepping around Tony’s kitchen counter, or pulling Tali over on the couch onto his knee, or messing around with Colleen in the gym, clearly holding back while Tony was watching because Tony didn’t know, couldn’t know, the truth.

The truth that was staring him in the face now.

He was wearing a mask, of course. Even Danny wasn’t trusting enough to know that running around with his own face in New York City in the current climate would result in anything but trouble. Tony still knew him, though. He knew him when he was a kid, chasing after him at galas. He knew him as a man, talking about a plane falling from the sky and snow surrounding him. He knew him as a cousin, broaching a subject, a word, Tony had always dodged, backing off the second Tony didn’t bite.

(Sometimes he wondered what would’ve happened if he did. If he gave Danny the truth in that moment, if he opened himself up, if he admitted something to both of them that he’d been carrying since he was fifteen years old. Sometimes he wondered, but not tonight. He was a little preoccupied.)

The man in the mask, the man on the Sentinels’ system, the man on FRIDAY’s tracker, the man he was sent to arrest …

It was Danny Rand.

DANNY: Over the last few years, Danny had had a few very close calls in his life of vigilantism. He’d been stabbed (multiple times now), shot (though only by Harold), kidnapped (also multiple times, which was worrying), maimed… The list went on and on. He had plenty of personal experiences to tell him just how dangerous this life was, plenty of scars and near-death moments to inform him just what he was risking every time he pulled that bandanna over his face.

He’d only recently come to consider the law to be one of those potential consequences.

Danny had never been arrested before. He’d certainly come close a few times in his early days back in the city, when his heart beat too quickly in his chest and he swung his fists at anyone who looked at him too closely, but he’d never seen the backseat of a patrol car. Thanks to Harold’s meddling, he’d even found himself on a federal watchlist for a moment or so, but Jeri took care of it before it could lead anywhere substantial. The closest Danny had come to prison was his forced stay in Birch, an experience he desperately wanted to avoid repeating.

If he were smart, he supposed, he might have scaled back the vigilantism to prevent an arrest. It was what Ward had advised him to do, on more than one occasion. Money can do a lot of things, Danny, he’d warned, but this isn’t one of them. If they catch you, they will send you to the Raft. Not some nice prison for tax evaders, the fucking Raft. And he was right. Danny knew he was right, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to hang up his worn hoodie and yellow bandana. Every time he tried, Ward’s voice was drowned out by a thousand others.

Protect my city. Matt, who hadn’t died for him but almost did, who’d trusted him to save a city he hadn’t even managed to stay in.

Danny Rand failed an entire city. The place he was sworn to protect. Sowande, who had been cruel and ruthless and right. . You should never have borne the Fist. Davos, angry and bitter and hitting the nail on the head every time. Danny had power, and he didn’t deserve it. He hadn’t earned it. Not really, not in the ways that counted. If he did nothing with it, if he failed New York the way he’d failed K’un Lun, what was the point of him? What did any of the sacrifices made to get him where he was mean?

So he didn’t stop. He kept fighting, kept roaming the streets with his Fist glowing as if there weren’t robots out to drag him in and enforcers less understanding than Colleen looking for a high profile collar. Because he needed to make amends. (Because he didn’t know how to stop.)

Tonight had been quiet. He hadn’t seen any sentinels, hadn’t run into any enforcers. He’d barely even seen any crime, only taking out one mugger by well into the morning hours. He probably should have been glad for it, but his skin itched and his chest was tight and he wanted to hit something. When he heard a quiet tang of something unmistakably metallic landing behind him, he was almost relieved. Finally, finally, a chance to let out some of that pent up rage on something he didn’t have to feel guilty for breaking.

But then he turned around, and the world tilted on its axis.

Everyone knew who wore the Iron Man suit, but even if he hadn’t there was no mistaking Tony’s voice beneath the modulated tones. Danny had been following Tony Stark around since he was a little kid, been clinging to his pant legs since he could walk. The fifteen-year gap in their relationship amounted to surprisingly little when he crashed on Tony’s couch as often as he did as an adult. Tony was there in good moments and bad, there on Christmas and in hospital rooms, at family dinners and in the moments when he couldn’t scrape himself off the floor. Tony had been there for all of that, and now, he was here for this.

And Danny froze. . Tony was frozen too, and though Danny couldn’t see his face, he had a feeling the wide-eyed expression beneath Iron Man’s mask was a pretty close match to the one he wore on his own face right now. Uncertainly, Danny shifted. Half of him wanted to walk towards Tony while the other half screamed at him to move away. He didn’t know which half was right. Maybe neither of them was.

“Hi,” he said experimentally, as if checking to see if his voice still worked. “I don’t… Uh, I can’t go to jail.” He bit his lip, barely stopped himself from adding, ’Please, Tony,’ because if Tony didn’t know who he was now, there would be no hiding it after something like that.

TONY: At least Batman roamed the rooftops of Gotham with a voice modulator. At least Daredevil pulled off that dark, mysterious, brooding, silent vigilante type. At least for the few weeks Tony himself managed to keep an alter ego on the down low, he wore a mask that covered the entirety of his face, his whole squishy human body, and his multitude of self worth issues all in one handy package. Danny was out here in a hoodie that wouldn’t have been out of place in Rhodey’s grungy backpack in MIT and a bandana that was riding up on his entirely too familiar nose, his voice breaking through in a weak attempt at a different pitch that Tony could see through in an instant, because he wasn’t a moron.

He was a genius, a fact that he often lamented over, and a genius who loved Danny Rand, at that.

Christ, it was looking at his own heart staring back at him, wide eyed and about to bolt, feet two seconds away from running down the alleyway and never looking back. Tony could catch him, of course. The suit could catch a rocket, if it wanted — but the question was whether he wanted to. The question was whether he wanted to see for himself, up close and personal, what Danny learned in the years he was gone, what knowledge he shared with Colleen that made the woman utterly terrifying. The question was whether Tony was willing to put someone else he loved in cuffs while the man he’d asked to marry him remained on the run, being fed intelligence from Stark systems, being told that if it came down to it, Tony would make the hard choice because it was the right one. . Making the right choice always seemed so difficult. Tony told himself that he needed compasses, like Steve or Sharon or Jarvis, Yinsen or Rhodes or Rumiko (not all of them were good compasses, but that was beside the fact), in order to make them. He told himself that he didn’t know the difference between wrong and right, because when he looked back at his extensive list of personal defects and lifelong tendency towards making mistakes, he figured that was proof of some void in his chest that other people had filled, something his parents failed to cultivate or he burned away with liquor.

But he knew, now. He knew it as much as he knew when Steve looked at him he’d burn down the world to put things right. He knew when he looked at Danny, he could never put cuffs around his wrist. he could never let anyone touch a hair on the kid’s goddamn head, and he wasn’t a kid anymore, Tony knew that, but he was. He always would be.

Tony lost him once before. He wasn’t losing him again, not by choice, not like this.

Of course, of all the words Tony could have chosen to put that sentiment into the universe, he went with something completely …

Well, completely Tony.

“Yeah,” he said, helmet retracting quickly. “No shit you can’t go to jail.”

“Boss,” FRIDAY interjected, “perhaps we should shut off the Panel communication servers-”

Tony clicked one of the panels on the suit’s arm, and FRIDAY faded into nothingness — along with Ross’ feed to this conversation. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tony demanded, taking a step forward. “Do you just think you can go around the city in … in not even spandex. You’re in less than spandex. You look like you raided a Goodwill and then they kicked you out because you were making the babies cry. I … I do everything I can to try and stop you from getting into shit, Da— Iron Fist, and you and all the, uh … the other ones, you all keep doing this!”

DANNY: Surprisingly, this wasn’t actually a situation Danny had been in before. When he first returned from K’un Lun, he had seen no reason to lie to people about where he had been and what had been done to him. He told the Meachums everything, didn’t understand why they didn’t believe him immediately because it was real. He knew it was real, had the scars and the nightmares to prove it. He told Colleen who, while more receptive, still spent the first few hours of their acquaintanceship looking at him like a bomb about to go off. He told the doctors at Birch, positive that they would understand what he was saying and let him go, so sure that it would reinforce his sanity. He told anyone who would listen about the Fist, and everyone looked at him like something inside of him was broken. Like it was some wild story invented by a child’s mind in order to avoid accepting the truth.

Danny had never wanted Tony to look at him like that. He’d looked up to Ward as a kid, sure, but back then, Tony had been his hero. He’d wanted, so badly, to do everything Tony Stark did. He remembered saying as much to his mother one night as she was putting him to bed, remembered barely stopping for air as he launched into an elaborate retelling of what he’d done at the Starks’ that day, adding animated hand gestures to the conversation as he went on and on about Tony’s games that only he really knew all the rules to and the way he was never angry when Danny and Sharon made up their own rules on top of them, the way the three of them laughed and played and no one flipped the gameboard over when they were losing the way Ward always did and no one cried like Joy used to. The Meachums were family, but that had always been more because of Harold than the children. The Carters and the Starks were family because of Tony and Sharon. Because of Danny.

And now, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be the reason they stopped being family, too. . He didn’t think Tony would arrest him. Not if he knew it was him, not if he recognized the eyes staring back at him. On a logical level, Danny knew that Tony never put him in cuffs, never take him to the Raft. But old paranoia told him he was assuming too much, old anxiety clawed at his gut and demanded to be free. Ward had put him in a mental institution, had paid people to hurt him while he was there. Harold had traded him to the Hand, had pointed a gun at him and pulled the trigger. Joy had hired someone to kidnap him, knowing he might not survive the experience. Davos had cut into him, bled him out over a clay pot, shattered every fucking bone in his leg twice for good measure. Danny loved his family, he really did. But he had a lot of bad experiences with trust, a lot of scars he could have avoided if, for a moment, he had loved less.

Tony Stark was not Ward Meachum. Danny knew that. Tony never would have hired guards to chase him down the street with guns in hand because he was afraid of losing money, wouldn’t have hurt him over and over and over again to save his own reputation. Tony wasn’t Joy or Davos, either, and he certainly wasn’t Harold. Tony was a good man who loved Danny, who had always treated him like a person instead of a billionaire, who had let him be a kid when no one else seemed interested in doing so. The Carters and the Starks and the Rands, they were a different kind of family than he’d had with Harold and Joy and Ward. They were less cutthroat, less money-hungry. Sharon and Tony had never wanted anything from him except for him to be himself. Danny knew that. . But that old paranoia still hovered for a moment as he and Tony stared at each other, both still as they assessed the situation. Danny stood lightly on the balls of his feet, ready to bolt if he needed to, as if it would make a difference. He couldn’t outrun Tony when he was wearing the suit, and even the intimate knowledge he’d gained over the last few years of vigilantism wouldn’t help him much against Iron Man. He was pretty sure Tony had some kind of x-ray vision in that thing, so hiding in a dumpster would only end up embarrassing him.

Danny didn’t realize he’d been holding a breath until Tony spoke and he let it out, a quiet exhale as a wave of relief hit him so hard it threatened to knock him off his feet. Tony didn’t sound like Iron Man, enforcer of the Accords right now. He sounded like Tony Stark, exasperated older cousin getting ready to gear up for a pretty intense lecture. . Tony did something with his arm that Danny thought might mean the higher-ups couldn’t eavesdrop anymore, and Danny’s shoulders relaxed just a little. He still carried some tension in his shoulders as Tony launched into his lecture, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t getting arrested for the moment. It allowed him to relax enough to look mildly offended, if nothing else. “Hey,” he said, “Je --- uh, my friend said spandex is lame. And this is comfortable! I need to be comfortable.” Not that the outfit was the point, but it was the principle of the thing, wasn’t it? He had to defend his style choices. “Look, you’re mad. I know you’re mad. Can I just --- I can explain. Okay? It’s just, uh, it’s a really long story, and I ---” He broke off for a moment, searching for words momentarily before continuing, “I punched a dragon! And now I’ve got --- I’ve got control over my chi, and I --- A building fell on Daredevil! And he told me, he said, ’Protect my city,’” his voice got momentarily deeper in a poor imitation of Matt, “and I couldn’t say no, because he was gone! And then --- And then my brother did a sacred ritual on me and I broke my leg and went to China, which you knew that part because of course you would have noticed that I was in China, right? And now I’m back! And, um, yeah. That’s it.”

It was an utterly nonsensical explanation, a series of stories strung together that, from the outside, seemed completely unrelated. Danny had never been the best at setting the record straight, especially not under pressure. Tony knew that, of course.

TONY: He wasn’t his father. Tony had never been his father, and recently, he’d stopped feeling inferior about that fact and started feeling grateful. He rarely gave over to anger. His rage, when it was prompted, came relatively smoothly. It built in him, gathered in his chest, curled around in his mind until he found the way most appropriate to put it to good use. There were rare occasions when Tony lost his cool, at least in that regard.

This was one of those rare occasions.

He was pissed. He was pissed off, and he was angry, and he was every word that he could think of to describe the rising heat on the back of his neck, the way his hands balled into fists. Any other man in a metal suit would use the mask to its fullest potential at this moment and hide his weakness. Tony had never been good at covering the emotions on his sleeve, not when it came to enemies, not when it came to strangers, or the press. Definitely not when it came to family.

He was angry, but he was terrified, too. His throat felt tight as he spoke, his voice raising but not nearly strong enough to have any kind of weight behind it.

“You know I’m mad?” Tony repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You know I’m mad? Are you fucking joking me?” Danny stopped talking, and Tony held up a hand. “Listen, this is the moment where you zip it, alright? This is the point where you stop talking, because I have a lot of things to say to you, and you just—”

Danny kept. On. Talking.

(Jesus, that ran in the family.) . The words that were coming out of Danny’s mouth were quick and panicked, and suddenly Tony was having flashbacks to when Danny was nine years old. Sharon assisted in the breaking of one of Tony’s vases, entirely accidentally, and Danny had a hundred and one excuses for Tony, not one of which included any form of a lie. At that stage, the kid had been utterly incapable of keeping a single detail from Tony. Secrets weren’t something that existed between the three of them.

Except they had. Except every time Sharon and Danny walked into his house in Malibu, Tony had to clean up weeks of evidence of his real life, the life he led on a daily basis. He had to hide the people he spent time with, the things he wasted time on, the things that kids didn’t want to see and he would die before he admitted to, because they, for God knows what reason, looked up to him. Cared for him. Loved him.

Danny was talking fast, and he’d never lied to Tony before except for when he had, but when he said dragon Tony couldn’t find even a piece of his heart that doubted the validity of what he was saying. “A building fell on Daredevil because he chases that,” Tony interjected, before Danny could go any further. “I don’t know the guy as anything other than a dot on my threat analysis, but come on. He goes out in a mask and he tries to make a difference, and that’s honourable and heroic and all of those things, but it’s also fucking stupid.” . What Iron Fist was doing was stupid. FRIDAY was in his ear reminding Tony that he was stupid, that there was a timer on this conversation and Ross would realise before long that Tony had tapped out, and that only spelled trouble when Tony was already on the shitlist …

“This life,” Tony said, taking another step forward, gesturing at Danny’s gear, “this life only ends one way. It ends with you in the ground. It ends with someone taking joy in putting you there. And that’s … I do this because I killed people. I killed innocent people for decades. I killed people, and I need to make up for that but Christ, you …”

Tony sucked in a breath, and all pretence went out the window.

“You had ten years.” He was yelling. No, yelling would be easier — he was trying to scream, but the words were barely coming out. “You were ten years old and you were dead. You were dead and that damn near killed all of us, you know that? You ever wonder why Sharon’s mom worries more than is even close to normal about her coming home in a box? You ever wonder why I … I was in a cave and I was seeing so much shit, and they were going to kill me and I saw you. I saw you and you weren’t even dead. You weren’t. You were alive the whole damn time.”

Tony stepped back, then, heart beat pounding loud in his ears. “You can’t do that to us again.” He said it the same way Pepper had, pushing herself out of bed, shooting him a glare on the way down to the couch. He said it like there was no other solution, like Danny would stop or he wouldn’t, and Tony would be able to walk away — but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t even be able to stop himself if Danny asked him to. “If it wasn’t me,” he continued, “if it wasn’t me here, tonight, things would be different. You know that, right?”

DANNY: There were days when Tony reminded him so much of Ward that Danny ached with it, moments when his cousin got a look on his face and it felt like Danny was looking at his brother instead. This moment, with Tony clearly and understandably angry and Danny standing in front of him with some dangerous stunt only faintly in the rearview mirror, was one of them. Danny couldn’t help but think back to the thousand and one times he’d had this conversation before. In Ward’s office, when he and Danny were slowly making their way back towards being brothers. On his couch, bloodied and beaten, with Ward quietly trying to pretend not to be terrified. On the runway of a private airport, Ward threatening to lay down in front of a plane to keep Danny from going off on his own.

He’d had the conversation with other people too, of course. Colleen, who waited up until he stumbled home at five in the morning with bruised knuckles and blood on his hands, who asked him quietly how many times he’d lit up the Fist, how many hours of sleep he was running on. Claire, who told him how terrified she was that his obsession with being something he wasn’t would take away everything good about what he was. Jessica, Matt, Luke, Misty… Danny had people who loved him, people who knew what he did and tried desperately to convince him to do it in a way that wouldn’t kill him in the end. And Danny wished he knew how to do it for them. He wished he knew how to be the sort of man who might get a happy ending, the sort of man who could die peacefully of old age someday instead of the sort destined to bleed out in a back alley gasping and wheezing and waiting for help that would never come. He wanted to be that person for them, but he couldn’t. Most days, he still wasn’t confident he knew how to be a person at all. . Tony was talking to him as if he was one. Tony was talking to him like he was a child, perhaps, but he was talking to him as if he was a person all the same, like he was more than a weapon, and Danny had to remind himself that that meant something. He opened his mouth to say more, to dig his grave a little deeper, but Tony told him to be quiet and Danny had always wanted to do pretty much anything Tony told him to do.

It was Tony’s turn to talk now, Tony’s turn to talk about how buildings didn’t typically fall on men who didn’t run into them when they were already shaking, and Danny winced just a little. “A building fell on Daredevil because I ---” He cut himself off, taking a deep, shuddering breath. How much should he reveal here? How much did he tell Tony about the things Iron Fist had been a part of, the things that happened because of him. As far as the police knew, Iron Fist had been nowhere near Midland Circle. Danny Rand’s involvement in the collapse had been swiftly covered up by Ward, who made a hefty donation and requested that his brother’s trauma not be capitalized on to a very receptive commissioner with a very big check. Danny could tell Tony, right in this moment, that it wasn’t Daredevil’s stupidity that dropped a building on his head --- it was Danny’s. He wondered if that would change Tony’s perspective or make him angrier. . “I know how this ends,” he said instead, quiet and apologetic and utterly unafraid. Danny had always known how this would end, had thought he’d seen the end of it more than once, with Bakuto’s blade slipping silently between his ribs or Harold’s gun aimed firmly at his head or Elektra’s face inches from his own or Davos carving him up or Rhyno’s gang watching him shiver and shake and vomit blood onto the warehouse floor and laughing. Danny knew how this story ended, and he’d made his peace with it. If he died tomorrow, he still would have lived far longer than he had expected. He’d accepted death at ten years old with a plane shaking around him, accepted it again a few months later with sweat beading on his brow and boys his age hitting him over and over and over again because there was no mercy in K’un Lun, not even a little. He’d accepted his death at the mouth of a cave, welcomed it when he stepped inside with nothing but his clenched fists and his aching muscles to face a beast he’d only heard of in storybooks. Death was nothing new, nothing scary. Danny had known it for years.

Tony went on then, talked about why he put on a metal suit, and Danny took a shuddering breath, closed his eyes for a moment as the words rushed out before he could stop them. “So have I,” he blurted, sudden and thick and full of grief. “I’m --- I had a job. I had people to protect, and I failed them, and they’re --- I have things to make up for, too. I have scales to balance.” You are nothing. Danny Rand failed an entire city. The place he was sworn to protect. Sowande’s words echoed in his ear, and they were true. They were true, no matter how many people claimed they weren’t. . When Danny’s plane went down, he’d never considered how it affected other people. He’d been ten years old, had his father’s body and his mother’s screams burned into the forefront of his mind, and thoughts back to New York had never been to think of how the people he’d left behind were coping with his presumed death. He remembered Joy talking about it shortly after he came back, quiet and mournful. He remembered the way Jeri looked at him with more emotion in her expression than he’d ever seen her wear before or since. He remembered Sharon showing up to his office and threatening to kill him for disrespecting the memory of a person she’d loved. He’d heard all those stories, but he’d never really stopped to ponder them.

Not until now.

Tony’s words rung in his ears, and Danny flinched. “I wasn’t…” He started, trailing off because what could he say? I’m sorry my plane went down? I’m sorry you thought I was dead and it broke you? I’m sorry you had to lose me? Danny had been a ghost for a very long time, a child haunting the people who had loved him, sainted by his death. And he was alive now, he was back, but they were still haunted. The ghost of the boy they’d known still hung in the corners of their minds, still rattled chains in the basements and made the floorboards groan. You couldn’t undo fifteen years of grief. . “I’m not trying to,” he said quietly, and it didn’t feel true even if it was. Danny didn’t want to die. He’d realized it all at once in Rhyno’s hideout, when BB crouched beside him and they’d both understood with abject certainty that the gang would be disposing of a corpse by nightfall. Danny didn’t want to die, but he’d still gone after Davos mere hours after he was rescued from that warehouse. He’d still gone out, alone and unarmed, to fight a man who’d already beaten him once, still landed himself in the hospital with doctors who whispered in voices they thought he couldn’t hear about the probability that amputation would be required to save his life. Danny didn’t want to die, but he didn’t know how to stop chasing death, either. He didn’t know how to walk away. “I know.” He said quietly. If any enforcer but Tony had found him, things would be different. Things would be worse.

Danny ran a hand through his hair, eyes burning. “I can’t stop, Tony. I can’t --- The way I was raised, after that plane went down, they taught me… I wasn’t a person to them. I was --- I’m a weapon, Tony, a, a thing, and I don’t --- It was expected there. That I’d… They expected it.” They expected him to die. Some of the kids took bets on it, in the beginning. ’If he lives more than a month, I’ll do your chores for a week.’ ’You can have half my rations for three days if he makes it a year.’ They hadn’t even tried to hide it, had spoken about it clear and outright well within earshot. Danny had grown used to that, over the years. It was how things were. He wasn’t supposed to live. He wasn’t meant to.

TONY: He’d been pretending his entire life. He’d been wearing masks since he was a child, going to galas with his father’s hand digging into his shoulder, leaving bruises in the shapes of his fingertips that expensive material always managed to hide. He’d been pretending from the first second he put on the metal mask in that cave, pretending that he was capable of becoming something bigger than former warmonger, Tony Stark, the boy turned man who was so naive as to believe that the person who helped raise him was incapable of hurting him, incapable of ordering his death.

Obadiah loved him, Tony had reasoned. Obadiah loved him, and he couldn’t possibly have known about any of the deals under the table, couldn’t possibly be the mastermind Pepper said he was. Obadiah loved him, and that was exactly why he wanted Tony dead, because loving Tony Stark had never been easy, not for anyone.

Rhodey’s career almost ended just by associating with him. Pepper was dropped into a blazing fire. Rumiko’s family all but disowned her, Tiberius’ stocks dropped, Sharon was forced to pick him up off the floor and discharge him from hospital, driving home silent and pretending that there wasn’t this large, unspoken thing sitting in the space between the driver and passenger’s seat. Loving Tony meant Maria cried every damn night. Loving Tony was so damn difficult that it made Howard want to hurt him, and he had. . ‘You’ll understand when you’re a parent.’ He’d uttered that more than once. ‘When you’re looking at someone you watched grow up, someone who has disappointed you, lied to you, failed to become what they should be — when that happens, Anthony, you’ll understand that it isn’t as black and white as you seem to think it is.’

Tony was looking at Danny. He was looking at Danny, and he felt like his heart had jumped out of his chest and was spluttering on the pavement between them, sustained only by the muddy water in the puddles of the alleyway, but he didn’t want to hurt him. He didn’t want anything to hurt him.

All Tony wanted, in that desperate, aching moment, was to bring Danny to a place where they never needed to have a conversation like this again, a place where they didn’t need to dance around the truth for months and years, because the Starks might have lied, the Carters might have made their name out of mistruths, the Rands may have misdirected, but their kids were honest. The three of them, they’d always loved each other different.

They’d always loved each other right.

(Tony was capable of that, after all — of loving someone in the correct way, of not turning into his father. In other circumstances, he may have been relieved. He had other things on his mind at this point in time.) . “Is that how you want it to end?” Tony would understand that, too. He would understand it more than almost anything else, that desperate need to go out in a blaze of glory to prove himself, to tip the cosmic scales, to cleanse his hands, to make himself worthy of being called hero by kids and parents alike. He’d tasted a human death. He didn’t much care for it. He would understand.

Just like Danny understood him.

I have scales to balance. Tony shifted, feeling like the conversation was on a Dutch tilt, like he’d had a few too many and the world wasn’t that blissful blur anymore but something far more disconcerting.

“Okay,” Tony breathed. It took him three attempts to make the word audible. “Okay, you can’t stop. That’s … we can work with that. We can make that happen, but you— if you want to do this, you have a chance now to do it right. Legitimise yourself. Get the protection of the Panel. Think of the good you could do if you didn’t need to look over your shoulder every five minutes for the cops.” Tony sucked in a breath, taking another step forward. “Register that weapon. I know you. I know what you stand for. Other people might not. They wouldn’t get it. If you …”

(It was Maria at the bottom of the marble staircase, head in her hands, shaking it gently when Tony asked if they were leaving after all. It was Steve, looking up, meeting his eye, putting the pen back in its case and walking away, taking the air in the room with him. It was Natasha on that balcony, or Rhodes in a plane saying hanging out with you is bad for our friendship, or Pepper asking what the hell was wrong with him that he could think, even for a moment, she would be okay with…)

“Please,” Tony said, reaching out a hand. “Come with me. Let me fix this, for you. Let me fix all of it.” We don’t have much time.

DANNY: In the months after he was brought into K’un Lun, after the wounds from the plane crash had healed and he had learned to breathe around the biting cold of air far crisper than even the coldest winters in New York, Danny had developed a habit of running away. It happened often in the beginning, so much so that sometimes he’d find Chodok waiting for him at the edge of the city with a knowing expression on his face, sad and disappointed and utterly unsurprised. He never got far, of course --- there was nowhere to go. There was no way out of K’un Lun, wouldn’t be until the gate opened fifteen years later, but Danny hadn’t wanted to believe that back then. He’d struggled to understand the complexities, had a hard time wrapping his mind around the new rules that seemed so strange compared to what he’d grown up with. How could something be there and then not be there? How could there be a way out one day and nothing the next? How could he exist for the rest of his life in a place that had made it so abundantly clear to him just how little he belonged?

He remembered Chodok, on one of the occasions he found him waiting at the gate for the next grand escape, looking especially exhausted. ’Why do you do this?’ He’d asked, frustrated and at his wits end and sounding more like a father than anyone else in the city had ever bothered and Danny had felt a rush of anger and grief so unexpected it had nearly knocked him off his feet. He’d wanted to scream, wanted to pound his tiny fists against the ground as if he had the strength to bend it to his will, to make it into something familiar and safe and home. His throat had felt tight and Chodok’s hand’s gripping his shoulders had been the only thing keeping him upright. ’I was trying to go home,’ he’d said, quiet and mournful. ’I’ve been trying to go home, I just want to go home and no one will let me. Why won’t you let me?’ . The outburst was embarrassing in hindsight, so childish that Danny felt humiliated at the memory, but the sentiment remained. There were days, even now, when he looked out into the city’s skyline and the thought would cross his mind, strong and certain and utterly nonsensical. I want to go home. Why can’t I go home? It reminded him of sitting in a helicopter with Colleen, of coming back to New York after months away, of looking down at the lights and feeling nothing where he should have felt safety. ’That’s the beauty of it,’ she’d said, ’it can be whatever you need it to be.’ ’What do you need it to be?’ He’d asked, because maybe if he knew her answer he could puzzle out his own. And she’d said home, like that was all there was to it, like one word was a complete sentence, and Danny felt nothing. He’d fought like hell to get back to New York, had nearly died for the city a hundred times over, and he felt nothing.

It took him a long time to understand why. It took him years to realize that it wasn’t buildings or sidewalks that got him out of bed in the middle of the night to run barefoot through the snow, desperate for a way back. It wasn’t his family’s old brownstone or his father’s office that tightened his chest with grief and rage and confusion when Chodok asked him why he insisted on running away time and time again. It was never New York that Danny was trying to get back to. It was Ward. It was Joy, it was Sharon. It was Tony.

Tony, who was looking at him like he’d ripped his heart out of his chest. Tony, who had accepted him back into his life as if he’d never left it, who had never once questioned where he had been or why he was different or why sometimes it seemed to hurt him just to breathe. Tony, who must have known all along that Danny had a nighttime hobby but who had never quite let it come to the surface because knowing meant he’d have to act on it.

Tony, who looked just as frustrated and tired now as Chodok had back then. . It occurred to Danny, quite suddenly, that there had been more than one driving factor in his grief that day with Chodok’s hands on his shoulders. It occurred to him that he’d spoken of home, but that hadn’t been all he’d wanted to say. The words hit him now all at once, quiet thoughts soaked in a child’s anger. Why didn’t you let me stay with you? Why did you give me away to Lei Kung? He doesn’t even like me, but you do. You’re the only person here who’s ever been nice to me, and you gave me away. Chodok must have known, when he’d found a boy in the snow, what would happen to him in K’un Lun. He must have known what he’d go through. He must have known they’d warp Danny into a weapon, must have known they’d beat him and berate him and hurt him, and he’d still done it. Danny thought, back then, that Chodok was the only person who’d never hurt him, but he had. Maybe not directly, but he had.

And now here was Tony, with that same expression on his face, and one key difference Danny recognized with ease --- Tony would never hurt him. Tony loved him the way Chodok couldn’t, the way Lei Kung and Harold couldn’t, the way maybe even Wendell couldn’t. Without consequence. Without condition. Danny had gone against him in a way that would have been punishable by death in K’un Lun, in a way that would have made Tony well within his rights to put him in cuffs and take him to the Raft, and Tony didn’t. He wouldn’t. There weren’t many people who loved Danny like that, and he thought Tony might have been first. He thought Tony might have been the first person to look at him, before K’un Lun and the plane crash and everything else, and decide he was worth loving.

He hoped letting him down wouldn’t change that. . “No,” Danny said, too quickly for it to be true. He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and swallowing before amending. “I don’t know.” He knew how it was supposed to end for him. He knew he’d been meant to die on that mountainside, when the Hand’s soldiers invaded the path he was supposed to guard. The Iron Fist was always supposed to die an honorable death in battle, and there was no K’un Lun left to die for but there were still battles to be fought. If he lost his life in one, maybe it would make up for the battle he’d missed. Maybe the only way you could find redemption was through death.

Tony went on then, offered options, and Danny felt like he was suffocating just a little. Register that weapon. Could he do that? It left a sour taste in his mouth, twisted a knot in his stomach that he didn’t understand. “Tony…” The name fell from his lips in a whisper, and it sounded like an apology, even to him. How could he explain it? How could he talk about K’un Lun, about the lasting damage done to him there? He’d belonged to someone once. He’d been a thing, and they had owned him. He existed for them, bled for them, would die for them, and they’d treated him with as much respect as they treated their swords. You kept a weapon sharp, you kept it clean. You gave it a sheath to rest in, you recognized its power when it was in your hands. You showed a weapon respect, you understood the danger it represented.

You didn’t love it. . You didn’t call a weapon by its preferred nickname. You didn’t ask it how it felt about the solution you used to clean it with. You didn’t value its opinion, you didn’t tuck it into bed at night, you didn’t hold it close when it woke up screaming, didn’t wipe away its tears when it cried. When a weapon had an owner, it couldn’t be loved. And Danny wanted, with the same childlike desperation that inspired his outburst in Chodok’s arms more than a decade ago, to be loved.

If he signed the Accords, it wouldn’t make people love him less. He knew that. On a logical level, he knew that. But the heart was not a logical organ, and his was beating so quickly in his chest that some paranoid part of him feared his ribs might break. “I can’t,” he said quietly. “Tony, I just can’t.”

TONY: He wasn’t talking half as much as he was ten minutes ago. Danny wasn’t arguing, wasn’t trying to plead his case. He wasn’t putting the pen back in the case like Steve, or reaching a hand out to him like Sam had on the grass that day. He wasn’t looking at Tony how Obadiah used to, like he was exhausted and frustrated and disappointed all in one, like he couldn’t understand how Tony could be so intelligent and still unable to grasp what he conceived to be simple facts of the universe, and he sure as hell wasn’t looking at Tony like Howard used to.

He was looking at Tony a little how Maria used to, though — a little like Tony was breaking his heart. Tony decided not to think too much into that.

Maybe this would be easier if Danny was arguing. Maybe it would be easier for Tony to say he was convinced to let Danny go, or that he was persuaded to break the code that he’d signed up to enforce, if his cousin was standing in front of him in a goddamn bandana making a case for his vigilante activities that Tony had been resolutely ignoring for the past six months (years, really. Not just months. Years, since he came back).

Tony could’ve been dead in Afghanistan. He could’ve been dead and he wouldn’t even have the chance to stand in front of Danny and make a decision that should be difficult.

It wasn’t difficult.

“Stop,” Tony said, raking his fingers through his hair. What he’d give to be a few shots down right now — and with that thought, memories came flooding back of Sharon, barely out of high school, coming to sign him out of the hospital because he didn’t want Obie to see him, because of the shame that came with it. Memories came flooding back of Pepper, and of Rhodes falling, and of Steve in Siberia, and … . He turned from Danny. A tactical misstep, undoubtedly, but Tony wasn’t thinking tactically. He knew Danny wasn’t going anywhere. He knew that, because he knew Danny.

He also knew something else. He ran his hands down over his face, eyes burning, and turned back to meet his cousin’s eye.

“Just because you love someone,” he started, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. “Just because you love someone doesn’t mean you’re good for them, right? Just because … I mean, I’m not good.” The suit whirred as his hand went to his chest. “This thing, it’s never— I’ve never worked right. I’ve always been hard, you know, difficult to …”

Tony sucked in a breath. FRIDAY was in his ear, despite the mute order. (He really needed to work on obedient artificial intelligence — but like his friends, Tony always preferred having bots around him that were willing to call him out. A moral compass of his own creation.) They didn’t have much longer.

They didn’t have any longer. A holograph appeared from the arm of Tony’s suit, detailing several targets (colleagues) a few metres from the alleyway.

He looked up once more. “I want to be good for someone. I need that.”

A long sigh, and the helmet formed over his head. “No wonder I’m in permanent heart failure,” he muttered. “Come on, idiot. My co-workers are coming, and if they get a shot in on us, I’ll die of embarrassment before I get to kill you.”

DANNY: When Danny was ten years old, his childhood ended in a heartbeat. He was a boy one moment, sitting on a plane and listening to music that was probably a little too old for him, staring out the window at mountaintops that looked so small. Then the world started to shake and the plane started to groan and all at once, life as he knew it was over. His mother was sucked into open air, his stomach bottomed out, his father’s voice grew more and more desperate until he couldn’t hear it at all. Danny hadn’t died in that crash, but the boy he’d been when he stepped on that plane? He was gone the moment the debris hit the snow.

There were no children in K’un Lun. It was Davos who told him that, Davos who sat beside him when he was terrified and desperate and trying to understand what was going on, why he was being beaten and pushed and hurt even when he hadn’t done anything wrong. We’re kids, he’d said, almost pleading as he gripped bruised ribs and tried not to cry. Why are they hurting us? We’re just kids. And Davos, if anything, had been confused. He hadn’t understood that, in other parts of the world, things were different. He hadn’t been familiar with cultures that saw children as precious things to protect. There are no children in K’un Lun, Danny, he’d said, in what Danny figured now was a tone as close to gentle as he’d known how to make it. We’re weapons. And so he had been. For fifteen years, he had been a weapon instead of a child, a thing instead of a person. . But he didn’t feel like that now. Standing in this alley, with Tony across from him, Danny felt like he was nine years old again. He felt like a child, being scolded by a parent. He felt like he had when he’d knocked his mother’s wine glass off the table and shattered it against the floor, when his father sat him down and lectured him on caution. It’s so easy to break things, Danny, he’d said, it’s so easy to do damage. It’s hard not to. It’s hard to be good. We have to try anyways.

Danny’d broken something much worse than a wine glass now. He’d broken a law, broken more than one law, actually. He’d broken Tony’s trust, too. (And he’d broken more than that. A quick flash of a memory popped into his mind --- the Reaper, blood on his lips, grinning up at Danny. This is my favorite part. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Danny’s throat felt tight.)

He’d opened his mouth again, to explain or to argue or to beg forgiveness, but he snapped it shut quickly when Tony told him to stop. Obedience was an easy habit to fall back on after K’un Lun, especially when he was on edge. Tony wasn’t Lei Kung or Priya, wasn’t Yu-Ti or Master Khan. He wouldn’t beat Danny into submission if he didn’t comply without question. But Danny’s mind was split between two places, and there was some comfort in doing what you were told when you were at a loss. There was some comfort in silence, too. . Tony turned away from him, and Danny squeezed his eyes shut and took a breath. He was disappointed, he knew. He’d disappointed Tony, and that was the last thing he’d ever wanted to do. “You’re one of the best people I know,” he offered quietly, because it was true. “I’m not…” he trailed off, chest aching. “I’m not what anyone wanted me to be. I don’t know how to be what anyone wants me to be. Not you, or Ward, or Sharon, or Colleen, or…” He trailed off, smiling tightly and giving his head a self-deprecating shake. If he listed all the people he’d let down, he knew, they’d spend all night in this alley.

Something was happening inside the suit, and Danny wasn’t a smart man but he could guess what. Tony had been here too long, and enforcers didn’t work alone. Someone else was going to come soon. Someone who wouldn’t want to talk things over, someone who didn’t love him enough to forgive his transgressions.

For a moment, the whole world seemed to hold its breath. Danny was pretty sure Tony wouldn’t arrest him, but he didn’t quite relax until Tony told him to come on. His shoulders slumped and he nodded his head slightly. He moved to follow Tony before hesitating, pausing with one foot still lifted in a half-step. “You’re going to get in trouble for this, aren’t you?” For helping him. For loving him.

TONY: Being a good man always came with too many terms and conditions for it to be something Tony genuinely strived for. Being a good man meant making choices that cost people their livelihoods. It meant dropping bombs in foreign countries and focusing purely on the statistics of such a move instead of the human impact. It meant saying no when you wanted to say yes, saying yes when you wanted to say no. It meant hurting the people you cared about and spending your entire life following those you didn’t, because they’d offer you a leg up the career ladder, or get you that coveted contract.

“No,” Tony said, holding his hand up. “We’re not doing that, okay? We’re not. I … I’m not the guy people put weight on, alright?” Tony was the fixer. He always had been for those he cared about, for those he didn’t, for his family and friends and strangers all in one. He was the guy people went to when they needed out of a bad situation, but the second people started loving him, the second they shifted into thinking of him as more than just a means to an end, the second they started looking at him like he knew Danny was behind that bandana, things changed. That was when people could really hurt you, when they could get inside you and twist you inside out, when they could let you down.

He’d already dragged Steve down with him, a truly good man, a man who deserved so much better than anything Tony could give. He wasn’t going to do the same thing to Danny, not without a warning. Not without a comprehensive list outlining all the reasons why Tony Stark wasn’t someone to consider a hero. . “You don’t need to know who you are,” Tony replied. “You don’t. You … I know you’re going to hate me for saying this, but you’re young, Danny. You’re so fucking young. You’re … I was still selling weapons when I was your age. I still believed Obie wasn’t trying to put a hit out on my head. I was still calling Ru every time I got drunk, and you, you didn’t even get your childhood. You didn’t get to be a teenager. You’re young. Your mistakes, they still count, but they’re not … you’re not irredeemable. You’re not.”

No one was. Not even Tony, not even when he found that hard to accept.

You’re going to get in trouble for this, aren’t you? Tony hesitated, just for a moment, then shrugged a shoulder. “I’m already in a shit load of trouble, Danny,” he said. “Helping you isn’t going to be the thing that drags me down.” As it had always been, Iron Man’s greatest foe was himself.

And then the Enforcers arrived, providing a rather convenient outlet for the anger that particular thought prompted. “Keep tight,” Tony called over, “but the second you see a gap, you get out.” With that, and trusting that for once Danny would listen to a word he said, Tony sent a blast towards one of the Enforcers, knocking them back before their weapon could fire.

This was going to be so much paperwork.

#char: danny rand #discord

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carryonmywaywardwriters · 6 years ago

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Love How You Hate Me - Sam x Reader

A/N: It’s late, but I wanted to get this up before I crash. Hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Upcoming Warnings: Show level violence. Mentions of childhood trauma/sexual abuse sprinkled in (not super detailed. I do have my limits). Smut. A lot of detailed smut. Kidnapping. Near death experiences. Etc. Individual chapters will have different warnings as needed. Read at your own risk.

Word Count: Roughly 3,500

“Singing Radiohead at the top of our lungs. With the boombox blaring as we're falling in love. Got a bottle of whatever, but it's getting us drunk. Singing here's to never growing up.” You bellowed along to the song heartily as you stirred the yellow concoction in the pan. Dancing a little in the purple short and lavender tank pajamas you'd donned the night before.

Dean hadn't mentioned the conversation you two had the week before. Instead, leaving it to settle on your shoulders. He knew just how to apply the pressure without doing much work. Forcing you to consider every angle. As if you'd ever truly leave the bunker.

His unease left you in a predicament, however. If you retaliated, the older Winchester would believe that you were miserable. So rather than raining hell on the younger brother, you simply backed away. Remaining almost, but not quite, civil.

Sam seemed almost disappointed in the lack of response. But, he didn't challenge it amazingly enough. It was nearly peaceful inside the cement walls for the first time in...well, ever.

The night before, Dean had announced there was a ghoul active a few states over. Naturally, he had to go. And along with him? His brother. Or, so you assumed.

Peace and quiet deserved a celebration. Homemade juice paired with farm fresh eggs fit the mood. There was no need to scramble madly to feed the larger than life men. You could let down your guard for a little while. Make yourself a nice breakfast.

“Song suits you,” Sam's voice made you jump as he walked over to the coffee machine, bed hair game strong. You watched enviously as he brushed his long locks back into place with just his work worn fingers. That isn't natural.

“What are you doing here?” You stared at him as if he was a ghost. His lips tugged up slowly. No doubt enjoying your obvious horror.

“Dean left. Not me.” He shrugged, simply. His body seemed to grow larger as he straightened to his full height. Silently daring you to challenge it. “Said he had it, and that was that.”

“Great.” You rubbed your forehead. The tightness climbing at the base of your skull indicated a tension headache moving in. All of the possible repercussions of Sam staying behind danced through your mind. It never ended well. The bickering and hostility grew to unbearable levels without the older brother as a middle man. Not that you'd tell Dean that. Not after the conversation you'd had with him. There was only one way to rectify the situation. “Here.”

Without missing a beat, you plated and slid the perfect omelet you'd slaved over, over to the monster himself. He didn't move an inch. Squinting at the dish as he inspected it. Your eyes rolled before he could even speak.

“What kind of poison is it?” He quirked his brow while poking at the plate. The lack of retaliation from the fish incident left him even more distrustful than usual.

“Every kind of rat poison known to man. I paired it with a touch of hydrochloric acid for a bit of extra bite.” An exaggerated kiss to your fingers emphasized your inner chef. When that only earned a side eye, you sighed. “I was making it for me, but then you had to go and show your ugly mug.”

While Dean taunted his brother for his 'pretty looks, you went to the opposite end of the spectrum. You figured that he needed his ego knocked down a bit. Even if it was the furthest thing from true. The Winchesters had genes that would make the Greek Gods jealous. Rivaling even Zeus when it came to sexual escapades. It was ridiculous.

He took it warily; making a point to sniff the eggs when he thought you weren't paying attention. Another small poke to the yellow fluff ensued. Finding nothing obviously wrong, Sam finally lifted the fork.

“I get sick? Expect something worse than the fish.” He warned before taking a small, experimental bite. You watched as he chewed slowly. Trying to discern if there was anything questionable mixed in.

“Oh, please.” You turned back to the ingredients you'd left out and started making another one for you. “Some of us aren't quite that devious.”

Well, all of the time. You'd definitely put a laxative in his food once or twice after one of his worse 'pranks'. And, might have set up a booby trap or two for him to walk into. Based on the way his eyes flashed your way, he definitely was thinking of those moments.

No one said a word after that. You flipped the new concoction while trying to ignore the hazel gaze that watched every move you made. It made you wonder what was dancing through that too smart head of his. Maybe a new method of torture?

You left him in the kitchen, choosing to go to the library to finish your breakfast. Escaping his presence as soon you could. Not caring in the slightest if it miffed him.

Once you were done, you scanned the thickly lined bookshelves. It was useless. Instead of the unlimited lore you had access to, you pulled out a favorite of yours.

A gentle, relaxed sigh left you as your body dropped into the cushioned chair that rested in the bit of a nook. However, the reading didn't go as smoothly as you'd hoped it would. Instead you stared at the words until they all seemed to blend into a giant muddle.

After what felt like hours, you gave up. Your cell was yanked off of the floor, where you'd set it. The number could have been dialed in your sleep. Sure enough, after three rings, you got the voice you wanted.

“Ghost busters.” Dean answered, making you shake your head lightly with a small smile. It had become his new catchphrase. The man was nothing if he wasn't able to geek out.

“You didn't tell me you were going on your own.” You went straight to business. After all, you were still more than a little unnerved from the younger man's stare. “A little warning would have been nice. I almost had a heart attack when a rouge big foot walked into the kitchen.”

“I just needed some time to myself, Y/N.” Guilt dripped from Dean's voice as he talked. “Look,” A weary sigh left him, “if you need me to come back, I will...but, if you don't? You'll just have to deal, okay?”

“Hey,” You sat up straighter. His tone worried you. Dean didn't like to show any kind of weakness. Ever. “You're okay, right?”

“Yeah,” He answered, but it fell flat. “Like I said. Just needed a little space. I haven't had any real alone time in a few months.” While you'd had plenty. As annoying as Sam Winchester could be? Human socialization was necessary. You could deal.

“I get that...” You trailed off, looking towards the shelves. “Just...be careful.” You knew he was a competent hunter, and then some. He'd saved the world. But, you always felt better when he had Sam by his side.

“Hey, you, too. Try to not let him get you too worked up. I don't know why-”

“I don't either, Dean.” You sighed, and rubbed your forehead. It was a discussion you didn't need. He needed reassurance. “I'll be good, okay? If it gets too crazy, I'll bail until you get back. Promise. Just...go let off some steam, and then come back to us in one piece.”

“Will do, sweetheart.” You heard the smile in his voice. He loved it when you mothered him. Took some of the weight off his shoulders. “See you soon. Don't kill my brother. It's a pain in the ass to get him back.”

“You better. And no promises.” His hearty laugh made you feel slightly better. It made him sound more alive, at least.

You hung up with him. Nothing else needed to be said. Not at that particular moment. If you could put off the unpleasant discussion of room and board longer? You would.

You tapped your fingers restlessly against the table you were seated at. Processing the situation you'd found yourself in. Wondering just how long you could go before the temporary peace fell apart.

Dwelling on it got you nowhere. Instead, a huff left you as you lifted your book. Determined to turn away from the real world for a bit. Miraculously enough, it worked. You lost yourself in the story.

“You're reading Dracula?” The incredulous sound of Sam Winchester yanked you out of the plot sometime later.

He stood there, head tilted as he took in the sight. His laptop in hand. No doubt preparing to search for a hunt of his own.

“It's a classic. Don't know why you're so surprised.” You didn't bother looking at Sam. Hoping he'd simply go away. As if you were ever that lucky.

Truth was, you had a shelf in the library to yourself. Classics and newer novels alike lined it. He had just never paid attention to what you'd brought into his home.

“Never known you to be a fan of classic literature-”

“You don't know a thing about me,” The book didn't lower as you spoke matter-of-factly. Trying to focus on the world in front of you. “You didn't bother trying to get to know me. Ever.”

You'd made a point to take note of things he liked back in the beginning. Attempted to discover things he enjoyed doing. A wasted effort, in the end. However, you still remembered enough.

Sam, though? He'd just ignored everything he couldn't use to harass you. As if all those other pieces of you didn't exist. At one point, you'd been bitter about it. That time had long since past. Leaving you with only a practical attitude towards it all.

“That's not-”

“Name one thing I like.” That time, you did finally set the novel down. Brow raised as you waited. Not really expecting him to come up with anything. You knew better.

“Bram Stoker.” Was the best he could manage with a small frown tugging at his pink lips.

“Doesn't count.” If you rolled your eyes any harder, they were sure to get stuck. “You literally just learned that, Sam. I've been here how long?” That seemed to sink in. For once, he looked almost uncertain in his dealings with you. His weight shifted uncomfortably “Look, Dean's gone. So, let's just make this easy for once. Speak frankly. I'm a bit tired of whatever game we've been playing. I have no idea what I did to become the one person you can't stand. And honestly? I don't care to know by this point. I'll stay out of your way, and you can just enjoy your time off.”

“Y/N-”

“Don't go feeling bad, now.” You got to your feet, holding your book. Glaring up at him for the almost kind tone he'd manged. You didn't want him to show you pity, or remorse. “It's a little late for that...” A deep, steadying breath left you. Calming yourself back down, you straightened your spine. “If you have a problem with me being here, I'll have Bane pick me up. Stay with them-”

“I-I'm not getting the blame because you're looking for an excuse to bail on Dean,” You'd never seen eyes that changed colors so fast. And yet, his did as they flashed. Darkening in that barely contained anger of his; nostrils flared.

You'd done it again. Pressed those buttons that no one else seemed to hit. Only you couldn't understand why.

“Bail on Dean?” You couldn't hold back the snort. The idea so foreign that you could do nothing more than dismiss it. “The only one I'm willing to bail on is you, Sam.” You grabbed your dirty dishes and cell phone before leaving without another word.

As you walked away, Sam couldn't tear his eyes away from your back. Unable to do more than think about your words as he took over your seat.

You weren't wrong. As much as he hated to admit it to himself. When it came to you? If it wasn't something he could use to piss you off, he was clueless.

He turned his head away as you disappeared, glancing over at the shelf you'd claimed. Staring at the books, but not processing any of it. Much like he'd done with you.

Even when you tried making peace over the coffee incident, he'd pushed you away. Right from that first day, he'd been the one bent on confrontation. Not you. Once you'd stooped to his level, it had become comfortable. The one person he could be a boar to without remorse. Well, almost. Some days, he nearly felt guilty.

He didn't quite place what it was about you that made him act like such an ass. It couldn't be boiled down to one particular thing. It was just you in your entirety. But, when it came to the things he disliked? There was a list.

He despised the way you seemed to lead his brother on. More than once, he'd caught you sneaking into Dean's room at night and then leaving in the morning. And yet, you never even hinted at anything more being a possibility between you two. Pretended it never happened.

Dean might not have realized it, but he deserved far better than being used as a sex object after everything he'd been through. His brother deserved the good life. A wife. Maybe some kids. Hell, even a dog.

The longer you kept him on the hook, the longer it would take for him to find what he really needed. Sam tried to not interfere in that area in Dean's life, but that didn't mean he approved of the way you went about it all. Not in the slightest.

The scariest thing about you? You didn't ever hunt. He didn't even think you could. You knew the book work. And while that had its pros, he hadn't seen you put it to use. Not once. Training to stay in shape? That was a joke.

Your lack of skill was a threat. It was dangerous- mentally and physically- for both his brother and your mutual friends to be attached to someone who couldn't defend themselves. If you didn't break his heart by walking away, you'd do it with your inevitable death.

And in their lives, it was inevitable for anyone who couldn't fight. That's just the way things worked when someone was involved with a Winchester. If anyone understood that, it was the younger brother.

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose lightly. There was more. But, those two? Those were the main ones that would destroy Dean. That would end up taking down Sam with it.

You were entirely right. He didn't know you outside of the outline he'd mentally created. Of the list of negatives. Though, he'd never tell you that. Maybe I owe it to Dean to try a little harder, Sam thought to himself. With a sigh, he gave in; adding as an afterthought, and I guess I owe it to her, too.

“Go out and meet some people, Y/N.” Alice chimed over the phone. Sounding all too bright for someone in her condition.

“I have met people, Alice.” You sighed, kicking your feet towards the head of your bed while your head hung off the front. Something you'd never quite grown out of. “Too many.”

“Fine. Let me elaborate.” She huffed into your ear, making your lips twitch. Suddenly understanding Dean's amusement when you pulled out that tone. “I'll try to be as blunt as possible here. Be warned.”

“I'm listening.” You answered, knowing it was going to be something completely off field. Sure enough, she didn't disappoint.

“Go have hot, sweaty sex with an orgasm giving god that you have no intention of ever seeing again.”

Sam and Dean would have had a heart attack if they heard their precious, little Alice speaking in such a matter. But, you? You'd heard it all. It didn't even earn a blink in surprise. She'd have been wholeheartedly disappointed in the lack of response.

“I'm almost positive that you just want to live vicariously through me.” You chuckled. Although, if you were being honest with yourself, the idea was tempting.

“Damn straight.” She hissed. Latching onto the plan with claws out. “I haven't been able to have sex in forever! Do you realize how miserable it is? To be forced to be celibate when your hormones are amped up? This is worse than period horny, Y/N. This is horny in a way you can't even begin to imagine until you go through it. High risk pregnancies are the worst!”

“Obviously I can't imagine.” You rolled your eyes at her theatrics. “You're aware that I can't miraculously absorb your ridiculously horny state, right? Me meeting a hot stranger and going to pound town isn't going to ease your misery. At all.”

“I told you. I'll live vicariously through you. Besides, you need a good time. Get you out of the funk you've been in lately.” She was as observant as Dean when it came to you. And you didn't care for it. Not in the slightest.

“Says the one who can't leave her couch.” You retaliated. Sounding more like a bratty child than ever before.

“And I'm still enjoying living more than you. When is the last time you did anything just because you could. Something that was just for you, and you alone? You're constantly waiting on the Winchesters, or on us.” She sighed heavily. As if it had been weighing on her heavily. “I know you thought you'd enjoy the role of 'stay at home mom'. And I know you wanted something less intense. But, you and I both also know that you miss your wild child days.” Part of you couldn't help but to wonder if pregnancy gave her some kind of sixth sense. “A happy medium isn't bad. It wasn't for us, but you? You're different. You're going to go insane if you don't kill off some of this funk.”

“I'm going to let you go for the night, Alice,” You pulled yourself up, cradling the phone with your shoulder. Knowing there was truth to her words. The twitchiness was creeping back on.

“Remember. Hot. Sweaty. Stranger.” She emphasized, knowing exactly what was running through your mind. You ended the call. Only to sit and mull over her words.

You'd hated life under the system as a kid. Bouncing from house to house. Promises of adoption that never came through. You'd run away from it by the time you were sixteen.

To survive, you hustled men at bars. Picked pockets. You lived on the road, in a car you'd hot wired. You'd teased and taunted men to get free drinks and food. Whatever it took to survive.

Once you started hunting, you used the adrenaline rush as a drug. It consumed you. You drank too much, and had no trouble manipulating people to get what you wanted. You let off extra steam with a string of one night stands. Over time, it only grew worse.

Meeting Bane a few months in hadn't helped you slow down. If anything, he'd aided in the trouble. Needing that same level of high from his own demons.

The homes created a second person inside of their victims. It'd been a side of you you'd kept locked away in a failed attempt to encourage people into letting you into their lives. Telling you to let loose. Do whatever, whoever, you wanted when you wanted.

It was surprisingly Alice, your equal in the hell raising department, that helped you lose a little steam years after you'd left your final home. You still didn't understand how it'd come from someone you'd met while dancing on a bar, chugging vodka from the bottle.

By the time you'd met Dean, the couple been more than ready to retire from the life. You? You wanted to remain involved, but you didn't want to die guns blazing. Somehow, you'd ended up playing 'housewife' more than anything.

And in that moment? It wasn't settling right. Stomach twisting, Alice's words danced through your mind again. Your inner minx, who had remained dormant for so long, was starting to become restless. All the signs had been there.

To hell with it... She's right. Your lips pulled up, and a bit of weight that you weren't even aware you'd been carrying left your shoulders. Time for a little, well earned, trouble...

Part Three

Tag: @burningmusicmachine

#supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #sam #Sam Winchester #sam x you #sam x reader #sam x y/n #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam reader insert #sam winchester reader insert #sam fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction

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bleachintothemultiverse · 5 years ago

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THE BIG BLEACH HC MEME centering around politics, repost & fill out! For anyone who wanted to explore those aspects more, considering it played a big role in the story. Some things may be unknown to your Muse, just think in WHAT IF then & well, have fun and take your time!

BASICS

Name: Aizen sosuke / / / Age: 300+ / / / Gender: male Race: Shinigami / Quincy / Hollow / Fullbringer / Visored / Human / Other Currently lives: Soul Society / Hueco Mundo / Silbern / Living World / Hell Exact Location: Muken Group(s): Espada, gotei 13.

QUESTIONS

- Would your muse consider themselves more: GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL ? - Would your muse consider their group more: GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL ? - How does your muse think others see them: GOOD / EVIL / NEUTRAL ? - How does your muse think others see their race: GOOD / EVIL / NEUTRAL ? - How does your muse think others see their group: GOOD / EVIL / NEUTRAL ?

- Is your muse considered a threat: YES / NO ? From whom?: Soul society mostly. - Is your muse powerful: YES / NO ? Could they be considered OP: YES / NO //he can bring down a city with his spiritual pressure alone. probably.// - Did your muse any crimes: YES / NO ? Trying to become a god. War crimes, Human experimentation, trying to over throw the soul society. Murder. Kidnapping. (for the most part). - Does your muse think they are doing mostly the right thing: YES / NO ? - Would society think the same: YES / NO / MIXED OPINIONS ?

- Does your muse think they are treated unfairly: YES / NO ? - Does your muse feel understood from others: YES / NO / NEUTRAL? - Is it important for them what others think of them as a person: YES / NO ? - Would they welcome death: YES / NO ? (He is terrified of dying) - Will they ever find peace: YES / NO ? Currently in Muken? He is at peace.

01.0. Do they fully stand behind the group they are part of? YES / NO. Why is that? Explain: He created the Espada army. They follow him out of loyalty and for power. He fully stands behind what he created. In terms of his captain days- Not really . He never really stood behind the whole gotei 13 and there military pressure.

02.0. Do they like as things are in Soul Society? YES / NO. 02.1. Is there anything they would change? Explain here: He would change a lot of things. He heavily hates the current corrupt structure of it and how everyone is just so willingly accepting to go along with it. he believes- he could of change it by becoming a god and getting rid of the soul king and replacing it as himself. But during his time in Muken- his opinions kinda shifted. He is not longer as hateful towards the soul society. He still hates the things they do and agree on. But he understands why the soul king is so important and wouldn’t want that to change, that would lead the world to be boring and to predictable.

03.0. Would they ever actively try to bring change (in general)? YES / NO. he caused literal chaos. Started a war with the soul society. Created his own army. Tried and successfully become a god to a point 03.1. Is your muse more: passive / active ? Introverted / Extroverted ? 03.2. Does your muse care more about: others / themselves ? 03.3. Do they trouble their mind over a lot of problems, others? YES / NO. 03.4. Do they mostly involve: the world / everyone / themselves / comrades / friends / family / elderly / kids / teenagers / home / workplace / strangers / souls / humans / quincy / shinigami / nobles / fullbringer / visored / hollows / espada / arrancar / (former) boss(es) / pets / animals / zanpakuto spirit / enemies / partner / lovers / soul king / god / other…(add more) 03.5. Name (up to) three which are the most on their mind (optional, adding names): Themselves. Leaving Muken. wondering what is going to do once his 20 thousand year sentence is up.

04.0. Do they think frequently about politics? YES / NO / SOMETIMES. Why is that? Explain: During his captain days. He was heavily involved in politics. Not to mention- he killed all of central 46. So he was controlling mostly everything behind the scenes for a awhile.

05.0. How do they feel in their current location, more: POSITIVE / NEGATIVE / NEUTRAL ? 05.1. Why is that?: He doesn’t hate Muken- he hates being restrain and his powers being reduce. But he doesn’t hate being there. He knows its a punishment and why he is there. The only thing he regrets over time is talking during his trial and not shutting up when told.

06.0. Does your muse have any goal: YES / NO ? BIG / SMALL ? He used to have a big goal, but after his defeat. He stopped having a big of a goal- for now he is just waiting out his sentence 06.1. Does it involve anything world-changing: YES / NO ? 06.2. If goal or not, any future plans? Share here: If he gets out of Muken- He probably would go to the world of the living or back to Hueco mondo. As he knows even after 20 thousand years- The soul society won’t ever accept him back in their society.

07.0. Does your muse know about the original sin of soul society*: YES / NO ? (He heard of it) * curious? Read about it here. 07.1. If they knew, would it change their views on Soul Society: YES / NO ? //Honestly- I don’t think, it would? as his feelings towards the soul society never really changes no matter what he learns. So in all truth- i don’t think it would? // 07.2. More: POSITIVE / NEGATIVE / NEUTRAL ?

08.0. Who is the worst person in their eyes?: Urahara, shinji (to a point), Ichigo. 08.1. What should happen to them? Execution (quick / slow death) / Imprisonment / Stripped of their powers / Torture / Repay for their sins / Pay a Fine / Social Work / lose their loved ones / Exile / other… (add more). //None of these? I don’t believe Aizen wanted any of them truly dead, during his time in Muken. He just hates them??// 08.2. Explanation: Ichigo caused his defeat. Urahara made it worst for him by sealing him and causing to actually feel overwhelming emotions- that he couldn’t escape from. Shinji was the first person to ever be a threat towards him as Shinji could detect most of Aizen’s kido. Not to mention, Shinji was one of the few people to ever wipe a smirk off of Aizen’s face.

09.0. Thoughts on the Quincy Massacre if they knew: POSITIVE / NEGATIVE / NEUTRAL ? 09.1. Would they be alright with such thing happening again: YES / NO ? 09.2. Would they try to prevent it: YES / NO / DEPENDS ? 09.3. Explanation: He doesn’t really have a full opinion on the quincy genocide. He only knows it was needed to keep balance in the world. So if it was needed again- he would support it. He wouldn’t want the world and everything to collapse. Then it would be boring and to predictable .

10.0. Would they ever switch sides: YES / NO ? //Kinda tricky- He wasn’t really on the side of the soul society. He was on his own. But he helped during the thousand year blood war arc, before returning back to Muken. So he is really on no one side. He is on his own side. // 10.1. If yes, What could bring them to do so?: War, unstableness in one side. Self interest. 10.2. Would they create a new one: YES / NO ? or join a current one? If so, which: he created the Espada. But when he gets out of Muken? Probably not. He would most likely be used to be living alone.

11.0. Does your muse follow a certain moral code*?: YES / NO / GRAY AREA ? * (ethics) A written, formal, and consistent set of rules prescribing righteous behavior, accepted by a person or by a group of people. 11.1. What does it involve?: He wants people to follow him- not out of fear but out of Loyalty. He wants full loyalty with any of his lesser subordinates. He will only force people to follow him if it will achieve his goal. Other then that- he doesn’t really force some one to follow him. if people want to follow him- great, if they don’t great. He will still do what he wants either way. 1.2. What does it NOT involve?: Forcing people to follow him out of fear. anything that messes with his plans. etc. YOUR MUSE’S VIEWS / OPINIONS ON THESE GROUPS ?

Central 46: positive / negative / neutral. ━ because: He considers them a corrupt organization. Something that be easily destroyed. Which he did destroyed at one point and took over to control behind the scenes. not to mention they sentence him to 20 thousand years. (thought that was mostly his fault- he wouldn’t shut up)

Four Great Noble Clans: positive / negative / neutral. ━ because: no opinion really on the clans.

Royal Guards / Gotei 13: positive / negative / neutral . ━ because: he used to have respect for the Gotei 13 and looked up to them on the early days in the academy and even when he joined his last division (Division 5) he held some respect for them. He always found the Royal guards to be interesting. He never heard about them till he learned that the Division 12 captain was transferred to become a royal guard in squad zero. Which sparked his interest in the soul king even further.

Fullbringer: positive / negative / neutral. ━ because: Never met any.

Visored: positive / negative / neutral. ━ because: He created them. He seen them nothing but test subjects for the early Houygoku. Any feelings he had towards them was lost once he hollowified them, his lack of Empathy, didn’t let him feel for his so called friends.

Espada: positive / negative / neutral. ━ because: He also created them. It is his army after all. He is grateful that they tried to help him in his goal to over throw the soul society. But- he really only sees them as tools that could be tossed away at a drop of a hat.

Quincy: positive / negative / neutral. ━ because: He doesn’t hate them or does he like them. He disagree with what they wanted to do to the soul society and the other realms. Realizing how much unstableness that would cause and would cause the world to be to perfect. Something that would be boring to his goal.

YOUR MUSE’S VIEWS / OPINIONS ON THESE (IMPORTANT) PEOPLE ?

Aizen: positive / negative / neutral. ━ because: .....its his self- Aizen is the most arrogance self indulging person there is.

Yhwach: positive / negative / neutral. ━ because: Aizen really dissagree with what he was trying to purpose and do to the world, knowing a world with out death- people can’t grow from it and evolve.

Mayuri: positive / negative / neutral. ━ because: He helped created the chairs that bind him in Muken. it was because of Mayuri, that allows Aizen to exist in Muken. He heavily finds Mayuri to be creepy and is some what grateful that the central 46 doesn’t allow Mayuri to do experiments on him. Even during his captain days- he never really Liked Mayuri and always found him to be odd.

Kurosaki: positive / negative / neutral. ━ because: Ichigo is some one who- defeated him and help caused his downfall. He sees Ichigo as a worthy rival to him and was a essential part of his plan to over throw the soul society.

Soul King: positive / negative / neutral. ━ because: // I already wrote a full HC- but to sum it up// Aizen opinion on the soul king is Neutral. He realizes during his time in Muken that the soul king is something that is needed or the universe and humanity won’t continue to evolve or change. With out the fear of death? The world would be boring to him. Something that Aizen doesn’t want to happen. So in the beginning, he wanted to get rid of the soul king- but realize over time that the soul king is needed in the universe to keep balance and allow evolution to happen. EXTRA(optional): add more characters which hold some meaning to your muse. Urahara: Some one that Aizen really doesn’t understand. One of the many people that confuses Aizen to no end and one of the only people to make Aizen feel fully conflicted emotions that caused him to be over whelmed. Not to mention, he also has to thank urahara for the creation of his Houygoku. with out it- He couldn’t achieve his goal like he did and become a god. Shinji: His Ex-Taichou. Some one that Aizen used to heavily dislike. Some one that Aizen did hold some what of a respect for- till He learned that Shinji only hired him as a fukutaichou to keep a eye on him. Aizen considered him as a early threat during his early experimentation days. considering Shinji could detect his Kido- seemly no matter how powerful it was and already had a suspicious of him in the beginning. He always had mix feelings towards his ex captain, and even during their fight in the fake Karakura town arc. Aizen held some mix feelings of not caring and low fear as Shinji manage to catch Aizen off guard and wipe the smirk off of his face. But during his time in Muken- his feelings towards shinji kinda nulled. He no longer disliked his ex captain- nor did he like him. He became more indifference towards him. //To sum it up- I might write a whole head canon about Aizen’s true feelings on Shinji and how it changes from the pendulum arc to current day.// Hiyori: During his Fukutaichou days and even in the 12th division. He used to see Hiyori as some one of interest, Not romantically- but more of like some one he found amusing and didn’t mind hanging out with in his free time. He used to find great amusement every time she used to boss shinji around, or take out a group of men who would try to understatement her. Though- Hiyori was the only one who ever left a bruse on him during those days. He never fully intended to turn Hiyori into a visored, she just happen to show up at the wrong time and he had no choice but to turn her into a visored. His lack of empathy allowed it to happen, and from that point forward, he shut out any feeling or respect for her and only saw her as a test subject. Hinamori: Aizen never had any romantic feelings to his ex-Fukutaichou. He saw her nothing but a pawn. He did care for her some what- But as his plans started to advance, he only saw her as a tool that he needed to get rid of. He was grateful for her loyalty during his captain days and actually in directly teaching him how dangerous love can be- but other then that. He has no feelings towards his Ex-fukutaichou. He doesn’t hate her- nor does he care about her.

CONGRATS, you managed till to the end, now tag your fellow bleach partners!

TAGGED BY: @hirako5hinji //Thanks for the tag Anna uwu.// TAGGING: I already tagged people xD so feel free to steal uwu.

#Apex predator (Aizen sosuke)#headcanons #//Thanks for the tag Anna! <3//#hikaro5hinji

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