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cjsinkythoughts · 4 years ago

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Suits, Dresses, and Heels

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4000

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, More Mentions of PTSD, Gun Violence, Slight Mentions of Drinking, Club Dancing (You’re all gonna hate me for that part, but I’m not sorry)

A/N: Here’s Part 4.2 - The Second Part to Episode 3 - as requested. This is a little more scene-by-scene, but there are some off-screen moments. I’ll be posting Part 4.3 (which will have the rest of the episode) later tonight.

There’s a bit more information on Reader, but not as much as the last chapter. Sharon comes in during this part, so you get to see her and Reader’s relationship.

Also, I have mixed feelings about Zemo at this point. Not in the story, the Reader’s not a fan as you learned previously, but for me personally, he’s surprised me a couple times by coming back and helping.

Anyways! Thank you so much for reading! This isn’t beta’d so excuse any mistakes! Check out my other parts before you read! Thank you again! Stay tuned, loves!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The dress was far too tight for your liking, and showed way too much skin. Not that you didn’t like being a tease every once in a while, but for this mission, you’d rather have more cover and movement.

You had to admit though; Zemo had nice taste. The dress fit deliciously - which made you wonder how he got your size. The color and cut was devastatingly flattering. Plus, he let you do your own makeup.

Being the only female, you were in a separate area of the jet getting ready. Once you were done, you made sure to knock, even though you’d walked in on Sam changing too many times to count while on the run and had seen Bucky answer the door in nothing but a towel. It was mainly for Zemo’s sake, just a warning that you were walking in whether or not they were ready.

“Damn, girl! You clean up nice!”

You rolled your eyes at Sam, painted lips quirking up as you studied him, shooting him a wink. “You should try a mirror, Sammy.” You turned to Bucky to find him staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at you. “What do you think, Buck?”

His mouth snapped shut and he cleared his throat, eyes exploring the dips and curves your body. “You…” He blinked once. Twice. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his intense eyes making you heat up, before he shook his head. “You look good.” He rushed out, before spinning on his heel shoving past Sam who was snickering.

“Where’s Zemo?” You noticed he wasn’t in the main area of the plane when you walked in.

“Rearranging our ride once we get there.”

You huffed, fixing your hair. “Oh God. We’re really doing this.”

“Yup.”

“Okay.” You looked down at yourself before looking up at the boys. “Something’s gonna go wrong, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

“No doubt.”

Giving a slight groan at their simultaneous answers, you nodded. “Let’s try not to screw up too badly, boys, alright? I at least want to live long enough to see Peter graduate.”

Sam rolled his eyes with a scoff. “That kid’s a punk.”

“You’re a punk.” You shot back.

Bucky raised his hand. “I second that punk thing.”

“For which one?”

“Both of them.”

You chuckled as Sam gaped at Bucky, who shrugged innocently. The former assassin tilted his head in your direction to shoot you a grin and a wink, making you laugh more. Shaking your head, you go to make a joke when Zemo walked in.

“It’s time. We’re landing now.”

And just like that, the teasing atmosphere dissipated, leaving you anxious and regretful.

*******************

You walked by Bucky, arm linked with his metal one, listening as Zemo told Sam about his “character” he was to play.

“He’s a known womanizer - always has a gorgeous lady on his arm.” Zemo gestured towards you. “It’s the only way they’d let in a woman.”

“Aren’t we going to see a woman?” You questioned, gently patting Bucky’s metallic bicep when his hold on you tightened.

“Which makes it more imperative that you don’t act threatening. Women don’t make the same mistake men do; they don’t underestimate other women.”

You nodded. He had a point there. Bucky faced you, a frown on those pretty lips. “I don’t like this.” He mumbled.

“You think I do?” You whispered back. “With you being him again? Even if it’s just pretend? And need I remind you whose idea this was?”

“I know, I know. Just…” He sighed. “Promise me you won’t get hurt on purpose.”

Your forehead creased. “Why would I-?”

“To protect people. You always do. And I get it, I do. It’s why you started this in the first place, but…save yourself first, this time, okay?”

“Buck-”

“Promise me.”

It wasn’t often you could see the fear in his eyes, hear it in his voice, but you could then. Unable to do anything else you nodded, a soft, “okay” falling from your lips. He nodded back, pressing a kiss to your head, before letting you go as a car approached.

Bucky helped you in - the heels you were wearing were no joke - before sliding in himself, Sam getting in on the other side of you. “And you two can’t be…” Zemo gestured to the two of you as the car started moving, eyeing your still connected hands. “Doing that.”

“This isn’t my first theater production.” You snapped at him. “We’ll be fine.”

He raised his hands in surrender, turning back to look out the windshield. Once you arrived, you gave Bucky’s hand one last squeeze, before accepting Sam’s hand to get out on his side, linking your arm with his like you were doing with Bucky earlier.

“I finally get to see one of your performances, baby.” Sam grinned at you.

You smirked back. “Best seats in the house, too, Smiling Tiger.” He groaned at your jest, nudging you playfully with his elbow as you giggled.

“This way.” Zemo cut in, jerking his head in the direction you’d be going. You took a breath, steeling yourself, before the three of you nodded at each other and followed his lead.

You found the fellas reactions amusing, their heads turning to study and scan everything they could see. You were more subtle in the way you analyzed your surroundings, feeling a bit more at home in this situation than, say, fighting super soldiers on top of semi trucks.

Your jaw tightened, as did your grip on Sam’s arm, when Zemo started speaking Russian, the four of you pushing through a crowded bar. Sam ran his fingers over your arms, giving your hand a little squeeze, silently reassuring you.

It was a bit obvious Sam hadn’t done much undercover work, put he stayed in character and you were impressed. Especially when the bartender started cutting up the snake, which you had to look away for because if there was one thing you couldn’t do…it was snakes. You nearly gagged when Sam reluctantly downed the drink.

Bucky eyed you, lips pursed in a way you recognized as him trying to hold in a smile. That made you feel a little better, hiding your own smile by turning into the crook of Sam’s neck. “Not. Funny.” He growled through clenched teeth, lips not moving.

“Kinda is.”

He grumbled under his breath, before the two of you tuned into the conversation between Zemo and a thug that came up, learning about the apparent power broker of Madripoor, which you a bit of from your time undercover there.

Sam held you tightly when Zemo turned to Bucky, knowing what was about to happen.

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like how easily aggressive he became. You didn’t like the little smirk Zemo gave as Bucky attacked. You didn’t like the cellphones being pointed in his direction. You didn’t like it.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” You gave Zemo a warning glare, a shaky breath leaving you.

He’d been doing so well. At least, for someone who had been through what he had. Especially considering it’d only been a few months since he’d been pardoned - half a year since everyone came back. You knew bringing Zemo on board had been a bad idea, but-

A squeeze to your hand pulled you out of your thoughts. You let out an inaudible sigh of relief as Zemo allowed Bucky to let the man he was choking go.

“Selby will see you now.”

One step down. You hoped that would be the hardest part, but you knew it most definitely wouldn’t be.

“You good?”

Bucky sniffed, giving you two a curt nod, before following Zemo. You bit your lip. “That wasn’t really an answer, was it?”

Sam shook his head. “No. No it wasn’t.”

Selby wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but you’d come to expect that. You stayed on Sam’s arm, giving the guards coy smiles and playing with the fake nails you had on in faux-boredom.

When she purred at the man besides you, you and Bucky glanced at each other, with you resisting the urge to scrunch up your nose. “And who is this gorgeous creature?”

Your eyes snapped back to Selby, giving her a slightly bashful smile. “Celeste Addams. Pleasure.”

“Trust me, dear. The pleasure is all mine.” Alright, you thought as she scanned you with a smirk. She was swinging for both teams. You could work with that. “What’s the offer?” She looked back to Zemo.

Zemo gave her the offer - information about the super soldier serum for the Winter Soldier and the code words to control him. Your blood boiled as Zemo touched Bucky, fingers grabbing his chin. You swore, once this whole thing was over, you would kick Zemo’s ass. You should make a list, just to keep track of all the things he’d done, and no doubt would do, to piss you off. That way he’d know why exactly you were beating his ass.

A name came up, Dr. Wilfred Nagel, along with the knowledge that the super soldier serum was, in fact, in Madripoor. You and Sam met eyes. Second step down.

But before they could get anything else, Sam’s phone buzzed. You ducked your head, closing your eyes, mumbling “fuck” when you saw it was Sarah. Sam’s responses just made you inwardly cringe even more.

“The bank, yeah. We laundered so much mo-” He chuckled nervously. “Yeah. They’ll come around.”

Is he fucking serious? For the love of God, Sammy…

And then she called him Sam. Next thing you knew, Selby was shot and you, Bucky, and Sam were taking out a guard each, you growling at the fact that you couldn’t use your legs because the dress was too damn tight.

You had no choice but to trust Zemo’s lead, but word traveled very quickly here, and less than a minute after walking outside, you were getting shot at.

“C’mon!” Bucky grabbed your arm, pulling you besides him.

“Can you not right now?!”

“I can’t run in these heels!”

You glared at Sam, the killer six inchers on your feet feeling like hell. “Hell no! You did not just say that in front of me!”

“You started it!” You scowled at him, following Bucky into an alley, only to duck as shots rang out. Chest heaving, you looked around for the source of the bullets that killed the men chasing you. Your “guardian angel” as Zemo put it.

She soon appeared in all her stunning, blonde badass glory. “Sharon?”

Sam quickly explained the situation, trying to get her not to shoot Zemo who she had a gun pointed at.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass,” she pointed the gun at Sam, then Bucky, “so that you could save his ass, from his ass.” And the gun was back on Zemo. She shot you a smile. “And your ass is looking beautiful as always.”

You grinned back. “Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

As she spoke, your lips turned down. You had tried calling her after Germany, but it always went to voicemail. First thing you did when you got back was try to get everyone pardoned, but it was a process. And then you found out about Wanda and ever since…

Sharon was your first real friend. She was only a couple years younger than you and had been one of your first partners during your time with SHIELD. And the fact that she’d been on the run for years now, even with the Blip, her family not having seen or talked to her since…that was exactly why you couldn’t take a break. She was family and you found there was nothing more important than family. But when she needed you, you were out searching for someone who didn’t want to be found.

How were you supposed to choose between two sisters? How could you cope with the fact that you chose the wrong one?

“Sharon, we need your help.” She laughed at Bucky’s statement. “Please,”

She glanced at you and you nodded. “I’d appreciate it, Share.”

She gave a sigh before nodding. “This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town. You should be safe there for a while.”

She turned and started walking, and you were about to follow, when you remembered something.

Spinning around, your fist connected with Zemo’s cheek, Sam and Bucky shouting in surprise while the man stumbled back. “Don’t you fucking dare touch him like that ever again, or I will break every bone in your body.” You threatened, your expression twisting into a scowl as you grab his hand and bend it awkwardly. He grunted but didn’t move, knowing one wrong turn would break his wrist. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” He ground out.

You pushed a little more, making him wince, before letting go and rounding back to Sharon, who was smirking at you. “Let’s get moving.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She jerked her head back over her shoulder to where a car was waiting, leading them over.

You quickly followed after her with Bucky on your heels and Sam dragging Zemo along. Speaking of heels, as soon as you got in the car - getting shotgun for the first time ever at Sharon’s insistence - you prodded the stupid shoes off your feet.

“Nice kicks.”

“Yeah.” You scoffed. “Unless you’re trying to kick.”

“Did you rip the dress?”

“I was tempted to.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you in something more comfortable. And you’ll look just as good. Not that you wouldn’t look good in literally anything.”

You chuckled, giving her a look. “Let’s not test that theory.”

She smiled back, nodding. “Fine. I’ll let you pick something out.”

Sam huffed, crossing his arms best he could, being squished with the two other fully grown men in the back seat. “Women.”

The two of you exchanged looks, rolling your eyes at the three pouting guys. “Men.”

*****************

“I’m gonna go check on the boys. But I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, looking through her closet. No dresses. And absolutely no heels. Flats, if you had to, but you’d definitely prefer sneakers right now. You decided on shorts and an off-the-shoulder blouse, grateful for the looser clothing.

“They’re idiots.”

You laughed and looked over at the door as Sharon entered. “Yeah. I know.”

“Cute.” She commented on your outfit, sitting on her bed. “They explained the situation. Sam said if I help, he’d clear my name-”

“Sharon.” You sighed, biting your lip. “I tried. I really did. I-”

She shook her head, smiling at you reassuringly. “No, I know. It’s why I’m not mad at you. Sorry I didn’t call back. How’ve you been?”

You shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“Even with the whole ‘Cap is back’ thing.”

“Walker’s the government’s pet. He’s not Captain America. He’s not…”

“Steve?”

Looking up at her from the ground, you nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you miss him?”

You smirked, wagging your eyebrows at her. “Do you?”

She rolled her eyes, tossing a pillow at you. “It’s kinda weird now, isn’t it?”

“Maybe a little. But I can’t blame you. Have you seen him shirtless? Good God.”

Sharon laughed, shaking her head as you joined her on the bed. “How come it’s always you getting wrapped up in these things?”

“I have no clue.” You chuckled, crossing your legs underneath you. “First I’m answering a phone call from Bucky at five in the morning and next thing I know, I’m being kicked off of semi trucks, breaking criminals out of prisons and running in six inch heels.”

“You answer Bucky’s calls at five in the morning?”

You gave her a look. “Sharon-”

“No, no. Hey. That’s cool. Some girls like bad boys, some like jocks, others like nerds. You like super soldiers from the 40’s. Everyone’s got a thing.”

A playful shove turned into a pillow fight, which turned into a sparring session, during which you pin her on her back. “You’re getting better.” You complimented, getting up.

She glared at you, taking your outstretched hand and letting you pull her up. “I guess that’s why you’re an Avenger.”

“That’s still weird to say.”

“Why? You’ve been an Avenger since, what? Ultron?”

You nodded, straightening your clothes. “Officially, anyways.”

“Right. Because you were there for the Battle of Manhattan as the secret seventh superhero.”

“Yeah…I miss it. The anonymity. I’m pretty sure I’m one half the Senators’ speed dials.”

Sharon frowned, brows pinching together. “What about the other half of the OG? Where are they?”

“Thor’s in space, Bruce is MIA - which I can’t really blame him for - and Clint’s retired with his family.”

“You think he’s gonna stay retired?”

You shrugged. “I hope he does. He’s been trying to retire for years. He deserves it. Knowing him, though…probably not.”

Sharon crossed her arms, nodding at you. “So that leaves you.”

“Yes it does.”

“Do you ever think of taking a break?”

You gave a half-sigh, half-groan, making her smirk in amusement. “It’s…come up a lot recently. I dunno. I think I’m burning out, anyways.”

“What makes you say that? I was watching you guys with Selby. You’re still one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“I-I’ve been having…problems.”

Her eyes narrowed, her hands setting on her hips like a mother about to scold her child. “What kind of problems?”

“Just flashbacks. Of different things. It happens at random times. Certain triggers; something someone says or does, or something I smell or hear.”

“PTSD?”

“Something like that.”

“Has it affected you in the field?” Hesitating to answer was answer enough and she nodded. “Then…maybe it’s time you do start considering retiring.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “At 36? There’s no way.”

“C’mon. It’s not too late for you to settle down. Go one a few dates. Meet someone. Maybe have a couple kids-”

“Woah, woah. Slow your roll.” Your features scrunched up in incredulity. “Pump your breaks. No one said anything about marriage or kids.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying…think about it. I heard even Bucky’s been on a few dates.”

It was your turn to narrow your eyes at her, hearing the suggestive tone in her voice and seeing the eyebrow raise. “Yeah. He has. A few. I told him to. Told him it might be good for him to, I dunno, get back out there.

“Or, you could just…go out there with him.”

“Not you too! Have you been talking to Sam?”

“Is it Steve? Is that what’s stopping you? Because you know he’d just want you to be hap-” She stopped as he phone vibrated, grabbing it and reading the text. “Company’s arriving.” She pointed a finger at you. “You got very very lucky. This conversation isn’t over. I’m not dropping this.”

You bit your cheek and nodded. “Alright, mom. Can we go party now?”

She breathed out a laugh and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go party.”

**********************

“Hey, gorgeous! There you are!”

You smirked at the boys as they met you near the top of the stairs, eyeing Sam and Bucky appreciatively. Damn, could Sam pull off a turtleneck. And Bucky in black and skinny jeans? Sharon sure had good taste. “Today’s the day for attractive outfits, huh, gentlemen?”

“I’ll say.” Bucky hummed, glancing at your own outfit. “You look beautiful, doll.”

“You look very dashing yourself, Barnes.” You grin, pulling at the lapels of his black blazer and fixing the collar. You smoothed your hand down the front of his shirt, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised when he caught your wrist, keeping your palm over his heart.

He clenched his jaw, taking a breath, before letting it out, almost dejectedly, and letting your hand go. “Um,” He cleared his throat, hand falling down by his side. “Did, uh, did Sharon say anything more about these friends of hers to you?”

“Nope.” You shook your head. “Just told me to enjoy the party.”

“I guess we should go enjoy the party, then.” Sam nodded towards the stairs, where the music was floating up, her guests already pouring in.

You made your way downstairs, looking around the room. Sharon sure did know how to throw one, that’s for sure.

People were pushed together, dancing to the beat of the music, drinking, with colored lights flashing every which way. Bucky’s hand found yours almost instantly, and you smiled at him. “C’mon.”

“What?” His eyes were wide as you dragged him towards the groups of people dancing.

“Dance with me.”

He shook his head violently. “I-I can’t.”

“I thought you used to be a dancer?”

“Used to. And I was a swing-dancer. Not…” He gestured around to the people bobbing up and down, moving their bodies with each other.

You waved dismissively, pulling him closer. “All you need to do is feel the beat. I’m sure you can do that, can’t you, Mr. Tough and Scary Assassin?”

He licked his lips, looking around nervously. You brought his hands to your hips, making his eyes snap back to yours, your own arms winding around his neck. You started moving rhythmically, nodding your head to the music, smiling up at him and giggling at the adorable concentration on his face.

“You, uh, you go to parties like this a lot?”

“I specialized in undercover operations, remember? I practically lived at these places for some of them.” He licked his lips, his grasp on your hips tightening. “Loosen up a little.” You laughed, catching his jaw between your fingers and making him look at you instead of the crowd surrounding him. You scratched at the scruff, speaking softly, but loud enough for him to hear. “It’s just me.”

He nodded and, slowly, a bit hesitant, started moving his body with yours, relaxing his tense muscles the longer you two danced.

“Nice hit, by the way. With Zemo earlier.”

You shrugged, turning in his arms, biting your lip when he pulled you closer, your back to his chest. “I didn’t like the way he grabbed you. It was unnecessary. I was thinking of making a list, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Your arms wound around his neck again, your head falling back to his shoulder. “Of things he’s done so far that warrant’s me beating his ass once this is done.”

He chuckled, warm breath tickling your cheek, thumbs tracing circles on the bare skin just above the waistline of your shorts. Your own fingers had found home in his hair holding his head where it was, his lips centimeters away from your ear. “Share it with Sam. I’m sure he has a few things to add.”

Your breath hitched as his metal fingers danced along your bare navel, arm tightening around your waist. “I’m sure he does…I thought you said you can’t dance.”

“I guess I just needed to warm up. I’m a bit rusty after eighty years.”

“Don’t seem that rusty to me.” You breathed out, turning your head to look at him. His tongue ran across his lips again, his eyes glancing to your own.

“Hey, guys!” The world and your situation came crashing down on you, the music you didn’t realize you’d been tuning out, along with the crowd’s boisterous laughter and cheers, rushed back to yours ears. The little bubble with just you and Bucky shattered. You both stepped away from each other; you cleared your throat and pushed down the heat that had nothing to do with the hundred bodies in the one room, while Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, the tips of his ears red with no help from the colored lights. Both of you were panting lightly, avoiding eye contact with the other three staring knowingly at you. Sharon nodded her head, gesturing behind her. “I found him.”

Sam nudged Bucky - who was staring at you, his jaw ticking and his throat tightening as he swallowed thickly - before jabbing his thumb in Sharon’s direction. “Here we go.”

You nodded, eyeing Bucky with a small smile. “Here we go, Buckaroo.”

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makeste · 3 years ago

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BnHA 326: What’s up Kids, It’s Me, Your Old Pal Stain

Previously on BnHA: Ochako shamed the U.A. Clown Mob into letting Deku go back inside his own fucking school by giving them an hour-long speech about how not to be humongous dickheads. Kouta and Gigantic Fox Lady saved the manga by being the only ones brave enough to give Deku a hug. Shouto was all “man, all this togetherness sure does remind me of that promise you made that we would handle Touya together which you immediately bailed on, doesn’t it, Dad.” Aizawa was all, “for the one and a half people out there who thought that my losing an eye and a leg might actually make me less sexy, I’m very happy to prove you wrong.” All Might was all, “[standing outside the U.A. fortress alone in the rain talking to someone or something??].” Like seriously, what was up with that though.

Today on BnHA: All Might is all “here I am in Kamino having a belated mid-life crisis because Deku abandoned me and I’m a terrible mentor and everything sucks and I hate myself.” Stain is all, “don’t make me come over there and give you a ten page speech about why you’re still the goat while menacingly holding you at swordpoint the entire time” because idk if you knew this guys, but Stain is pretty crazy actually. Anyway so he does that, and then All Might gets all emotional, and then the lady from chapter 92 shows up and gives All Might’s statue an encouraging pep talk, and then Horikoshi is all “and it even stopped raining lol can you believe this shit I’m not even a little bit subtle,” and he really isn’t. But I still got emotional anyway, because seeing people reassure All Might that everything he’s struggled for his entire life hasn’t been in vain just got to me okay. Horikoshi knows I am weak to the All Might feels and he just goes for the jugular every time, that bastard.

lmao. “in the neverending downpour, All Might is...” yeah, thank you, glad we’re getting right to that then

“All Might is driving 95 mph in his busted ass car in the pouring rain, is what he’s doing.” huh

so basically a day or two after his adopted child refused to accept the handmade bento that he packed with love, my man is out here acting like he’s got nothing to live for anymore. this sure bodes well for certain prophecies on which the clock is still ominously ticking down

his fucking face though omg. is it weird that I’m kind of hoping more people ambush him just because I think it’d be funny to see them get their asses kicked like the last bunch

(ETA: or maybe he will just stand there openly not giving a fuck and basically daring them to stab him!! get it together please All Might.)

side note, “anti-hero supporters” is such a strange way of saying “people who hate heroes”, which I’m assuming is what they actually wanted to say?? this makes it sound like it’s a group that really loves antiheroes. “these Hannibal stans have been a real menace lately. time to go deal with them”

ha ha ha, fucking ouch

are you really gonna do it Horikoshi you bastard. are you really going to let that be the final encounter between the two characters whose relationship you once described as the vertical axis of the entire fucking story. are you really gonna?? huh??

huh

you’re telling me you were driving 112 mph and you still didn’t get there in time. you’re losing your touch old man. lol Todo’s ice is almost fully melted already, how late were you

(ETA: so apparently this is taking place after the end of chapter 325, meaning he went to U.A., hung out for a bit, saw the kids come back with his bedraggled half-dead protégé in tow, watched as they shamed the civilians into some long-overdue character development, and then was all “welp, time to go argue with the hero-hating faction or something because I’m feeling useless.” and Edge just let him go, just like that. though to be fair I have to imagine it’s pretty hard to say no to All Fucking Might.)

also belated lol at the fact that the kids were all “yeahhhhhhh we are definitely not gonna touch that thing, let’s just leave it here, he doesn’t need it anyway.” probably the right call to make since they couldn’t get a hazmat team on such short notice

fuck. ha ha ha fucking ouch part two

All Might please put that thing down before you get gangrene. also yeah, you dropped the ball, good for you to acknowledge it. nobody’s perfect and you did your best. but yeah you could have handled a lot of things completely differently. but I still love you

is Horikoshi really putting this flashback here. are you serious. what kind of fucking sadist

look, I swear I’m not one of those people that runs up and down the street shouting “DEATH FLAG!!” at every third panel lol. but this shit screamed Death Flag when we originally got it, and it’s screaming DEATH FLAG!!! even more now. like with the capital letters and exclamation marks and all. and that’s just a fact. I don’t like it but that’s how it is

ffkdjslk

“DID YOU READ THE SIGN??!” Horikoshi asks while zooming in maniacally because he thinks we’re blind or something. lol what

-- though actually, it only just occurred to me that this sign is actually written in English. I never really paid attention up until now and had been assuming it was written in Japanese and translated by the scanlators, but the writing here is clearly part of the original image. anyway so maybe that’s why he’s zooming in?? just to make sure everybody pays attention lol

okay fuck this

see, this is the whole problem right here. once again All Might is all on his own. Deku’s self-destructive angst spiral was fortunately brought to a grinding halt because he actually has support from his friends and family and teachers and classmates. but All Might never had that same kind of support, and it’s made all the difference between the two of them, and not in a good way. Katsuki wasn’t wrong when he said All Might and Deku were both cut from the same cloth. but now when it’s All Might’s turn to go all “I WALK A LONELY ROAD~~” once again, there’s nobody in sight

just, after forty plus years of him carrying this torch, I just wish someone would finally come along to let him know he doesn’t have to. all those things that he wanted to say to Deku are also things that he needs and deserves to hear himself. Aizawa was making a little progress there, but now he’s got his sad zombie cloud boyfriend situation to deal with, and we can’t expect him and his perfect hair to solve all our problems. someone else has gotta step up

oh my god

“you rang?” never mind I take it all back sob

omg why am I laughing. shit

this man truly has the best PR game in the series. we were truly convinced he was gonna suddenly become a good guy and defend All Might against the other villains or some nonsense. as if this wasn’t the same man who decided on a whim that Iida Tensei deserved to be paralyzed, and that his fifteen-year-old brother deserved to die for daring to be upset about it

lol even All Might is all “I genuinely never saw this coming” lmao

just want to say, for the record, I have always harbored a very sensible hatred toward Stain. feeling very vindicated right now. good job Past Me

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ffffwefjslkg. ghsdlkg. dsfkkkslkjldwkjrg

STAIN: heard you talking shit old man

ME: smh that’s what I thought you’d say you dumb fucking Stain

STAIN: how dare you talk about All Might that way

ME: gljfljgk

(ETA: in hindsight I have no idea how I didn’t clue in sooner that he didn’t recognize him -- or, well, ~didn’t recognize~ him, to be more accurate lol. I think it was the whole “is that a slight against the heroes?” thing that threw me. Viz’s translation makes it much clearer that he’s offended on behalf of All Might specifically, not heroes in general. anyways.)

sob. so All Might is all “yeah I don’t blame you for not recognizing me in this sweet leather jacket”

good thing he still knows how to do this party trick

A+ reflexes on Stain’s part presumably pulling the sword back a few inches to keep this dumbass from impaling himself with his whole pufferfish routine. can you imagine if that was the gruesome death Nighteye foresaw. and he was just too embarrassed to say anything

lol anyways guess I was wrong about Stain everyone

way to fucking go, Past Me. you really biffed this one

oh wait

Stain sure is one wacky rollercoaster ride

oh fuck me lol I forgot how much I did not miss this

(ETA: “this here is the sacred ground where All Might gave up the last of his power and turned into a shriveled old man!! please ignore the part where I admit to knowing all about that, and yet pretend not to recognize said man when he’s standing two feet in front of me.”)

Past Me, I know we’ve had our ups and downs these past ninety seconds, but I’m really starting to think you were on to something. this dude has always been kind of insufferable. always acting like his high horse is a fucking giraffe when it’s actually a Shetland pony

dammit now he’s got All Might going off on a depressed monologue

oh my god my heart

shit

why the fuck does that hit so hard. he became a hero because he couldn’t bear to just sit back and let bad things happen to people who didn’t deserve it. I mean that’s basically the same as every hero ever, right? so why does it still hit so fucking hard every single time though. what is it about seeing someone so determined to stand up for other people and fight on their behalf. it just never loses its impact no matter how many times I see that determination mirrored in so many of my favorite characters

“I wanted to make the world a better place.” omg. but you did, though. like seriously, I feel like people are always dogging on him for not being 100% perfect, and fandom really doesn’t give him enough credit for everything he still managed to accomplish. this man came of age at a time when Japan was by all accounts a total shitshow, and singlehandedly managed to bring about an era of peace that lasted for four fucking decades. can you imagine having peace for that long?? that’s longer than I’ve been alive. shit

and he gave people hope. he inspired them and protected them and made them feel safe. and no, he couldn’t save everyone, because he’s only one fucking dude (and also because the whole time AFO was also out there desperately working to undermine him so that he could keep preaching his narrative of “heroes are bad actually”). but you know what he did do, is inspire multiple new generations of heroes who, if they can all manage to work together, will finally be able to accomplish everything he never could

so yeah. forty years of peace, and inspired the “that’s how we all became the greatest heroes” generation -- that’s a fucking win in my book. talk about having a net positive impact on the world. lol anyways now I’m all fired up and ready to fight anyone who tries to talk any shit about you, All Might

“but what if I talk shit about myself” okay listen up All Might I’m gonna need you to try just a little bit harder to work with me here okay. please calm down and stop blaming yourself for every single bad thing that’s ever happened in the world. do you remember that time Bakugou was blaming himself for Kamino, and you gave him a hug and told him it wasn’t his fault, and that he was only a boy, and that even though he was strong, even strong people can struggle with the burdens they place on themselves, and that you were sorry for not seeing that earlier? do you remember all of that? that’s what I want someone to tell you too, dammit. anyway please stop breaking my heart please and thanks

wtf

are you dead All Might

I don’t even have the slightest idea what’s happening lol

oh snap did he grab him so they could hide??

hold the fucking phone. don’t tell me this person in the background with the umbrella is here to actually do something decent??

oh my godddd

and here come the feels. oh boy. okay don’t mind me, I’m just gonna sit here sobbing over this fictional lady and her simple act of kindness in this weekly shounen manga that I care about way too much

FUCKING DAMMIT AND HERE’S A SECOND HELPING

DON’T MIND ME, I’M JUST GETTING DISPROPORTIONATELY EMOTIONAL OVER THIS WOMAN’S DETERMINATION TO HONOR A MAN WHO SACRIFICED EVERYTHING TO SAVE HER AND COUNTLESS OTHERS. I’M JUST HAVING SOME FEELS OVER HERE ABOUT HER HEARTFELT, DOESN’T-EVEN-KNOW-ANYONE-ELSE-IS-WATCHING FEELINGS OF GRATITUDE THAT COMPELLED HER TO COME OUT HERE AND MAKE THIS SMALL BUT POWERFUL GESTURE. I’M JUST OUT HERE GETTING ALL PROFOUNDLY WORKED UP ABOUT STATUE MAINTENANCE AND THE HUMAN RACE. NEVER MIND. JUST IGNORE ME AND CARRY ON

holy shit. I was not even remotely prepared. you can’t just do that to me. you can’t just leave all these death flags on my lawn and then suddenly shift gears to show me the best of humanity in a chapter where I was expecting the worst. that fucks a person up lol

OH ARE WE STILL GOING

my heart. you see that, All Might. your legacy is so much more powerful and meaningful than you think

...has. has Stain actually been giving All Might a pep talk this entire time

I give up lol. this dude is a fucking enigma

YAYYY

it may just be a metaphor panel, but I’ll take it lol. I missed them. nice to see the traffic light trio front and off-center. I know the whole “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes” thing had left some questioning whether certain characters would continue to play a central role in the narrative, and hopefully this will help to ease those concerns just a bit

anyway, so idk if it’s getting a bit chilly down there in hell, but damned if Stain didn’t just give an actual decent fucking speech

I have to say, earlier when I was whining about All Might not having a support squad, I really was not expecting Stain to be the one to come over and pat his head and reassure him that he made the world a better place

-- okay LISTEN

YOU CAN’T JUST COME INTO MY HOUSE AND HIT ME WITH THOSE ALL MIGHT TEARS AGAIN GODDAMMIT THIS ISN’T FAIR. my god. first 317 and now this

holy fucking shit

“I’m just gonna pretend like I haven’t been stalking him for two days and didn’t see the entire Deku bentogate thing go down, and then I’ll give him the whole big speech that I rehearsed, and then I’ll turn around and be all ‘BUT IF YOU’RE A TRUE HERO’, and then I’ll toss him the super-secret AFO wifi password that I stole from Tartarus. god I’m such a badass. fucking give myself chills”

so basically what you’re telling me is that this whole time my “what’s up kids” characterization of Stain from this shitpost has actually been 100% accurate. just want to make sure I’m understanding this right. okay then

“and then I’ll dramatically spin around and be all NOW COME KILL ME BITCH”

it must be so much fun to write Stain. drawing this coked-out maniac who talks like a chatbot that was trained to speak by reading Alan Moore monologues. that must be a trip

anyway so All Might is still crying, the awesome lady from chapter 92 is admiring her handiwork totally oblivious to the batshit insanity going on fifty meters to her right, and it’s finally stopped raining lol

��THE RAIN WAS A METAPHOR YOU SEE” yes, yes, we got it lol. thanks for that Horikoshi. don’t think we needed any help putting the pieces together on that one but I appreciate the effort

so that’s the end! and as I mentioned in another post, I had the count off by one chapter, but next week should be cliffhanger week! so break out your U.A. Traitor bingo cards, friends and fiends. either that or something else happens that I’m completely not expecting at all. which, based on my success rate with Stain predictions, I’d say is more than likely lol

mmm but anyway, so now that the Hug Deku 2021 campaign has finally come to an end, what’s it gonna take to get a hug for my struggling bento-preparing jacket-rocking world-weary death-flag-waving husband who is the worthiest man to ever live and deserves the fucking world, goddammit

#bnha 326 #all might #yagi toshinori #stain (bnha)#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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davidmann95 · 3 years ago

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Sooo… Superman and the Authority?

magnus-king123 asked: Your thoughts on Superman & the authority Give it to me...lol

Anonymous asked: Seeing Bezos take his little trip into space the same day Morrison puts out a Superman comic that touches on how far we’ve fallen from the days when we dreamed of utopian futures where everyone explored the stars was a big gut punch. Not used to Superman being topical in that way.

Anonymous asked: What'd you think of Superman and the Authority#1?

This is far beyond what I can fit in the normal weekly reviews, so taking this as my notes on the first six pages, with this and this as my major lead-in thoughts:

* Janin's such a perfect fit for Morrison - the scale, the power, the facial expressions selling the character work, the screwing around with the panel formatting as necessary to sell the effect, the numinous sense of things going on larger than you can fully perceive amidst the beauty and chaos. It's a shame he wasn't around 25 years ago to draw JLA, but I'll take him going with Morrison onto other future projects.

* His intro action sequence is such a great demonstration of why Black actually does have something to offer, and also how he's such a dumbass desperately needing Superman to save him from himself.

* While Jordie Bellaire didn't legit go with an entirely monochromatic palate the way early previews suggested, it's still an effect frequently and excellently deployed here. And glad to see Steve Wands carry into this from Blackstars since there's such an obvious carryover from its work with Superman.

* "Gentlemen. Ladies. Others." Great both because of the obvious - hey, Superman's nodding at me! - and because it's a phrasing that reinforces that this take on him (and let's be real Morrison) is old as hell.

* I'm mostly past caring about whether this is an alt-Earth Superman until it becomes indisputable one way or another, this and Action both rule so what does it really matter? But while there are still a couple signs in play suggesting some kind of division (the Action Comics #1036 cover, Midnighter up to time-travel shenanigans) the "lost in time" quote clearly thrown in after the fact to explain how he could have met Kennedy outside of 5G that wouldn't be necessary for an Elseworlds, the assorted gestures towards Superman's current status quo, the Kingdom Come symbol appearing in Action, and that Morrison would have had to completely rewrite the ending if this wasn't supposed to be 'the' version of Clark Kent going forward as was the intent when they first planned it all say to me that no, no fooling around, this is our guy going forward one way or another.

* Janin and Bellaire making the first version of the crystal Fortress ever that actually looks as cool as you want it to.

Anonymous asked: I like that Superman and The Authority is basically the anti-All-Star; instead of the laid back, immortal Superman who is supercharged, we have a stressed, ageing Superman whose tremendous powers are fading. The former will always be there to save us, but the latter is running out of time and needs to pull off a Hail Mary. Also, he mentions in his monologue to Black that he was "lost in time" when he met JFK, so maybe he is the main continuity Clark. Or he's the t-shirt Supes from Sideways.

* You're absolutely right - the power reversal is obvious and the ticking clock in play seemingly isn't for his own survival but everyone around him as he wakes up and realizes all the old icons grew complacent with the gains they'd made and he's not leaving behind the world he meant to. Both, however, are built on the idea of preparing the world to not need them anymore - it'll still have a Superman in his son, but that'll only work because of the others he empowers and inspires. The question is what happens to Clark if he's not going to live in the sun for 83000 years.

* Clark's 'exercise' here does more to sell me on the idea of Old Man Superman as a cool idea than however many decades of Earth 2 stuff.

* Intergang being noted alongside Darkseid and Doomsday speaks to how much Kirby informed Morrison's conception of Superman.

* This isn't exactly the most progressive in its disability politics but at least it makes clear Black's being a piece of shit about it.

* It's startling how much Clark can get away with saying stuff in here you'd never expect to come out of Superman's mouth. "I made an executive decision" "Privacy, really...?" "You have nowhere to go, Black. Nothing to live for." "There are few people in my life who I instinctively and viscerally dislike, and you've always been one of them." It only works because there's zero aggression behind it, he's just past the point of niceties and being totally frank while making clear none of these assessments preclude that he cares and is going to unconditionally do the right thing every time. He is absolutely, per Morrison, humanity's dad picking us up when we're too drunk to drive ourselves home.

* The story doesn't put a big flashing light over it, but it's not even a little bit subtle having the material threat of the issue be a ticking timebomb left by the carelessness and hubris of generations past.

* Manchester keeps trying to poke the bear and prove his hot takes about Superman and it's just not working. The front he put up under Kelley is gone after decades of defeats, and as Morrison understands what actually conceptually works about him as a rival to Superman underneath the aging nerd paranoia he's exposed as what he absolutely would be in 2021: a dude with a horrific terminal case of Twitter brainworms. I was PANICKED when I heard there was an 'offensive term' joke in this, I was braced for Morrison at their well-meaning worst, but it's such a goddamn perfect encapsulation of a very specific breed of Twitter leftist who uses their politics first and foremost as a cudgel and justification to label their abrasive, judgmental shittiness as self-righteousness (plus it's a killer payoff to a joke from way back in his original appearance). Cannot believe they pulled that off when they're so very, very open about basically not knowing how the internet works.

* @charlottefinn: Manchester Black using his telekinetic powers to force someone he hates to fave a problematic tweet so that he can screenshot it and start a dogpile

@intergalactic-zoo: “Once they cancel Bibbo, Superman won’t be *anyone’s* fav’rit anymore!”

* Friend noted this issue had to be fully the conversation because the whole premise stands on the house of cards of these two somehow working together, and with three 'silent' inset panels the creative team pulls off that turning point.

* So much of this feels on the surface like Morrison bringing back the All-Star vibes with Clark, but when he drops a "That's all you got?" in a brawl you realize what's underlining that bluntness and confidence in the face of failure is that deep down this is still the Action guy too. This dude ain't gonna get wrecked in his Fortress while the other guy chuckles about him being A SOFT WEE SCIENTIST'S SON!

* Bringing up Jor-El made me realize that Morrison already spelled out that this is the final threat to Superman, what he faces at the end of the road:

"Now it's your turn, Superman."

* A l'il Superman 2000/All-Star reference with the Phantom Zone map!

* There's so much intertextuality going on here even by Morrison standards - Change or Die with the old hero putting together a team of morally nebulous folks out to 'fix' everything, Flex Mentallo with the muscleman trying to redeem the punk, Doomsday Clock with the fate of the world hinging on whether Superman can get through to a meta stand-in for an idea of 'modern' comics cynicism, DKR and New Frontier and Kingdom Come and Multiversity and Seven Soldiers and What's So Funny and All-Star and Action and the last 5 years of monthly Superman comics and Authority and probably Jupiter's Legacy and Tom Strong - but none of that's needed. You could go in with the baseline pop cultural understanding of the character and not care about any of the inside baseball shit and get that this is a story about a leader of a generation that let down the people they made all their grand promises to as inertia and day-to-day demands and complacency let him be satisfied with the accomplishments they'd made long ago, looking at a new era and seeing the ways its own activists are dropping the ball. The only thing that fundamentally matters in a "you have to accept you're reading a superhero story" sense is that because he's Superman he's willing to own up to it and listen to people who might know better about some things and try to set things right while he and those who'll take his place still have a chance. And yes, the oldster looking back on their legacy with a skeptical eye and hoping for better from the next generation, hoping most of all that their little heir apparent can fulfill the promise inside of him instead of being a provocating little shitkicker, is obviously also autobiographical.

* The overlaying Kennedy reprisal is such a great visual of a sudden intrusive thought.

* The Kryptonite secret is the obvious "This is going to matter!" moment, but "He lied about his son" is a bit that doesn't connect to anything going on right now so maybe that's important here too? More significantly, the Justice League can't actually be the villains here but that Ultra-Humanite's crew are in an Earth-orbiting satellite makes pretty clear what's up.

* I've said before that between Superman, OMAC, and a New Gods-affiliated speedster this was going to use all of Morrison's favorite things. King Arthur playing a role isn't exactly dissuading me.

* Love the idea that all the antiheroes have their own community in the same way as the capes and tights crew. They definitely all privately think the rest are posers though and that they alone are Garth Ennis Punisher in a mob of Garth Ennis Wolverines.

* Manchester's fallen so far he's gone from trying to convince Superman to kill to convince him to dunk on people for their bad takes and Clark just doesn't get it. Official prediction of dialogue for upcoming issues:

"According to these bloody Fortress scans, the only thing that can restore your powers is an unfiltered hit of dopamine. Don't worry, Doctor Black has a few ideas."

"Hmm. Maybe I'll plant a nice tree?"

"...fuck you."

* Ok I already talked about how great the Fortress looks in here but LOVE this library.

* A pair of pages this seems like the right spot to discuss from Black's original appearance that underlines both his and Superman's inadequacies up to this point:

Responding to the problem of "the government and penal system are hopelessly corrupt" neither of them has any actual notion of what to do about it in spite of their respective posturing beyond how to handle individual outside actors - each is in their own way every bit as small-minded and reactionary as the other. Clark's coming around though, and he's holding out hope for the other guy.

* Superman: Have a lovely mineral water :) proper hydration is important :)

Manchester Black: *Is a dude who can get so mad he vomits and passes out. At water.*

* That last page is the one to beat for the year, and does more to put over the idea of this as an Authority book than that Midnighter and Apollo are literally going to show up. It also feels like Morrison tacitly acknowledging all the ways the premise could go or at least be received wrong - from Superman saying 'enough is enough' to who he's bringing into the fold to go about it - in the most beautifully on-the-nose fashion imaginable. Maybe they'll save us all! Or maybe they'll drown us in their vomit.

#Superman and The Authority #Superman #The Authority #Manchester Black #Grant Morrison #Mikel Janin #Jordie Bellaire #Steve Wands #Opinion

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stovetuna · 5 years ago

Note

Hi, I hope you’re having a wonderful holiday season first of all! Second, if you’re feeling it, maybe Blind Date AU for Steve and Tony? Ty!!💖

PEACHY!! of course, darling, anything for you. Setting this in an amorphous MCU timeline again because I’m working on stretching my 616 writing muscles on another fic ;)

- - -

Steve knows it’s going to be a long night the moment he receives a text from Natasha that simply reads: Carbone. 1800. Wear the blue shirt.He’s tried—countless times, in fact—to dissuade her from doing this. It’s been a running joke between them for years, ever since that first time in the back of the C-130.

Too scared?

Too busy.

It’s not that he’s averse to the idea of being with someone. Far from it—he craves exactly that in ways he can’t articulate, not to Natasha, not to Sam, not to anyone. Sometimes, not even to himself. But the idea of dating, especially being set up on blind dates, makes something twist and sour in Steve’s stomach. The thought of being pushed into something despite his wishes because other people think it’s what he wants, or that dating is something expected of the unattached, is deeply upsetting.

Plus, his life is complicated enough as it is. Adding an unsuspecting stranger to the mix would only complicate more. And how would he explain it to them, his life? How could he ask for understanding when what he does is so outside the scope of the average person’s day-to-day reality? How could he ask anyone to wait up for him, not knowing if he’d make it back to them alive? In what universe would that be fair to a partner?

It’s not. That’s the point. Nor is it the point that he’s been nursing a crush on a certain someone on the team for the past year, a man so far out of his league it makes Steve’s head spin. That’s just background noise, at this point, an asterisk at the end of a sentence: Steve Rogers is not interested in dating.*

*Unless your name happens to be Tony Stark.

Steve’s fingers hover over the phone screen, deliberating in his head how to respond to Nat’s text. The way she’s written it is different from her previous attempts at matchmaking. No so-and-so from such-and-such is nice, you should ask her out. I met this random guy during a raid yesterday, I got his number for you. Want it? This one’s come to him like a gift of flowers, beautifully arranged and packaged, leaving no way for him to bow out of it without coming across like an asshole.

He shudders to imagine what Nat would have to text the person she’s trying to set him up with if he did: sorry, Captain America is a huge wuss. Feel free to order something to go, on me.

On the one hand, she means well. She knows Steve is lonely for companionship in ways his friends and the Avengers can’t satisfy. She might even know about his crush on Tony and this is her way of trying to help him past it. On the other hand, Nat is a notorious troll, and she could just be doing this to him for laughs. But it has been a long time since he’s gone on a date, even if he does hate the practice pretty much on the whole. One more for the sake of a stranger’s feelings won’t kill him.

Fine, he texts back, but you’re my sparring partner for the next two weeks.

Natasha’s response is so lightning fast it would make Thor dizzy.

Worth it.

Steve wears the blue shirt. He also goes to the effort of ironing his black slacks and polishing his dress shoes, because he knows Carbone’s reputation as the kind of place one goes to make an impression and/or be impressed. Tony talks about it all the time. “Oh my God, Steve, their spicy rigatone alla vodka is so good, it’s actually sinful,” he’d told him once. Steve had watched Tony’s eyes glaze over and his tongue slowly slide out to lave his bottom lip, obviously salivating at the thought of some random pasta dish, and it had taken just about everything in Steve’s power not to launch himself across the kitchen counter and chase Tony’s tongue with his.

“I’m sure I’ll try it at some point,” he’d replied instead, pinching his thigh hard enough to dissuade his blood from flowing further south.

At 4:30, Steve looks himself over in the full-length mirror in his bedroom. The black jacket seems overbearing for early summer, and he wonders if it’s worth keeping on. Should he bring it just in case? Is the tie too much? It feels like too much, especially after thinking about Tony and his tongue. Now he’s hot under the collar, about to go on a date with someone else. Damn it. Steve wrenches the black silk knot loose and pulls the whole thing off. It goes on the bed, along with the jacket. He unbuttons his shirt to the clavicle and rolls up the sleeves. (Tony has visibly admired his forearms enough times for Steve to make a deliberate habit of it.)

But Tony flirts with everyone, Steve reminds himself, and then he’s out the door. He opts to walk across town and down 12th Avenue, what should be a long walk along the Hudson shortened considerably by his long legs and enhanced speed. It’s one of those beautiful New York days, long, late May sunlight lingering in the clear blue sky even as Steve turns the corner onto Thompson Street at 5:45. It’s breezy but not chilly, warm but not stifling. People are everywhere, happy, flushed and bubbling over with spring fever. Even the hardened locals aren’t immune to it—Steve spots a grizzled bar owner just down the street who’s leaning against an old brownstone, face tipped up toward the sky, lips pulled tight in a barely contained smile.

It reminds Steve distinctly of Tony, how his eyes crease deeply at the corners when he grins.

You’re supposed to be nervous about this date, Steve reminds himself as he opens the door to the restaurant. He’s immediately enveloped in dark tones of bluish green and the smooth voice of Frank Sinatra. He’s early, but the staff brings him through immediately to an intimate but decently large corner table in the back. A waiter, bald-headed but sporting an impressive mustache and wearing the hell out of a purple three-piece suit, pours Steve a glass of champagne and another for his date, who’s starting to cut it close, time-wise.

At 5:56, Steve glances at his watch and takes a sip of water, opting to watch the bubbles in the champagne glass rise to the surface and pop instead of drinking it outright. At 6:08, the same waiter refills his water glass. They make small talk even as Steve fidgets under the tablecloth. In all of his gearing up for this blind date, the thought had never crossed his mind that the other person might be the one to duck out.

Averse to dating as Steve is, he can’t say the thought of being stood up on a blind date doesn’t sting a little bit, even as it drives home his rationale for avoiding the entire practice in the first place. At least he’ll have ammunition against Natasha the next time she tries her hand at matchmaking.

By 6:20, the back room is filled and noisy with other dinner guests, many of whom are also on dates and are doing a terrible job of pretending not to glance pityingly at Steve and the two untouched champagne glasses on his table. Steve sighs and shrugs at the waiter (his name is Duncan, Steve learned during Refill Number Three), who’s come by to refill his water glass again. How many does that make? Five? Six? Duncan glances at the empty seat across from Steve and shakes his head.

“It happens,” he says, genuine sympathy (but mercifully no pity) writ large across his middle-aged face. “In any case, you probably dodged a bullet. Want something a little stronger?”

Steve remembers telling Tony he’d try the spicy rigatoni alla vodka if he ever came here. Reservations to Carbone are hard to come by, and he should seize the opportunity while he can, even if it’s bittersweet. “Thanks. That’s okay. I think I’ll just—”

A man’s flustered voice appears suddenly from behind Duncan, cutting through the noise, words spilling out in a rush. Steve notices heads whipping around to gawk, bug-eyed, at whoever’s just appeared.

“God, I’m so sorry I’m late, usually I’m never late to this kind of thing but there was a malfunction with the—with the thing, and…I…uh…”

The man’s words trail off as Duncan steps aside to let him through to his seat. Steve is standing—when did he stand up?—and realizes with a jolt (and an unmistakable, overwhelming ka-thump of his heart) that he’s looking directly at Tony Stark, whose face has gone an endearingly bright shade of red, almost the same shade as the armor.

“Steve?”

“Uh,” Steve is too distracted by the furious blush currently working its way past Tony’s pristine white shirt collar to respond at first. “Hi, Tony. Wanna, uh, have a seat?” Nailed it.

“Sure…” Tony sounds skeptical. That’s fair. He’s probably already sussed out that this date wasn’t Steve’s idea.

Duncan, to his credit, says nothing as he fills Tony’s water glass. But Steve doesn’t miss the warning look the waiter shoots him as Tony tips his head back for a drink, or the way Tony’s face goes slightly pale as he sets the glass back down on the table, chastised.

Once they’re alone, the other diners seem to quickly get over the initial shock of seeing Iron Man and Captain America on a date together and go back to their own meals. The air in the room is fragrant with the smell of four-star Italian food, but Steve’s stomach is too tightly wound now to appreciate it.

Tony breaks the silence. He always was braver than Steve gave him credit for.

“So,” he says, “Going by your poleaxed expression I take it you weren’t expecting me.”

It’s not a question. Steve laughs hoarsely. “Yeah, you could say that.” More like you’re the last person I expected but I am so fucking happy you’re here. He doesn’t say it, but at least Tony looks more relaxed now. Smiling, they both take a sip of champagne simultaneously.

“D’you think Nat and Clint placed bets on whether or not one of us would cancel?” Steve asks. Tony laughs outright. Not for the first time, Steve watches Tony break out into a smile and wonders if the heat he feels is a blush or the fact that looking at Tony when he’s grinning like that is like looking at the sun—bright and dangerous and so unbelievably warm. Steve takes another drink of champagne to calm himself.

“Well, since they know you and I are so stubborn we’d both rather show up for a pre-arranged blind date at one of the most-booked restaurants in the city than flake, I’d say the bet’s based on whether or not we appear in the communal kitchen tomorrow morning together or separately.”

Steve chokes on bubbles. Tony laughs again.

“Hickies optional, obviously,” he says gamely, winking at Steve, whose shoulders are creeping up toward his ears. “We could just muss ourselves up before we get home and they’d never know the difference.”

“Tony, they’re literally professional spies. Of course they’d know.”

“I have my ways, Cap. Do not doubt my ways.”

“I don’t doubt your ways, Tony,” Steve manages from behind the sudden tightness in his throat, “But we’re talking about Natasha Romanoff.”

“You mean the woman who almost gave you a hard-on when she kissed you on an escalator in D.C.?”

Tony is still laughing gleefully (while Steve’s burning face is still buried in his hands) when Duncan arrives with two oversized menus. Steve waves at Tony when he offers to order for them, too embarrassed at having learned that Tony knows about the D.C. incident to speak for himself, at least for the moment. Besides, Tony knows everything he likes. (Well, almost everything.)

They breeze past awkward and straight into comfortable after that. Tony apologizes for being late again and Steve shuts him up with bread.

“Eat this and you can work it off with me later.”

Tony waggles his eyebrows at him and says, “Promise, Cap?” with a gleam in his eye that Steve resolutely does not read into.

“In the gym, Tony.”

The food is delicious and borderline excessive, coming in wave after wave along with wine and bread and cheese and free courses compliments of the chef, and by the second hour of their meal even Steve’s increased metabolism is starting to feel sluggish. Of course, that’s when Duncan places a massive, beautiful, steaming bowl of rigatoni alla vodka on their table. The smell of it alone is enough to rouse him.

“Holy shit,” Steve whispers as he ducks his head over the bowl to catch a bigger whiff of the red pepper-and-cream sauce, just loud enough he knows Tony will hear him. The other man giggles. It’s too fucking cute. Steve has to remind himself for the millionth time that this is not actually a date, because the words are right on the tip of his tongue.

“I told you!”

“Yeah, you did,” Steve answers, smiling at Tony as warmly and happily as he feels. This isn’t a real date, but he’s still having a fantastic dinner with his best friend and crush, so it’s a fun, memorable night for him either way. Steve dishes a heaping spoonful of rich, glossy pasta onto Tony’s plate first, too preoccupied to notice Tony glancing at his mouth before he takes another drink of light red wine (the price of which Duncan didn’t mention and at this point Steve doesn’t want to know).

“I like the look you’ve got going on, by the way. Very devil-may-care. How long did it take you to decide against the jacket and tie?” Tony asks once Steve’s finished doling out pasta for himself. God, it’s so easy to laugh with Tony. The man is hilarious, sure, but little things like that—things that only Tony would think to ask Steve because they know each other so well and he likes making fun of Steve’s idiosyncrasies, likes making Steve loosen up and laugh at himself—make Steve feel like the champagne he drank earlier: bubbly, light, happy.

He could spend five, six, ten more hours at this table. He could spend all of his time with Tony Stark and it still wouldn’t be enough. But there is only so much of himself and his time Tony seems willing to give, romantically or otherwise, and Steve’s made his peace with that. Mostly.

It does help that Tony seems willing to give Steve a lot of his time anyways.

And no one—not even Tony—will know if Steve indulges himself by pretending, if only for a minute or two, that actually is a date.

“Only a few seconds. Natasha did the lion’s share of the work picking the shirt out for me,” Steve replies, blowing gently on his forkful of pasta, saliva pooling in the back of his mouth as he watches the steam trail off it before taking a bite. “Why, do you think I should have kept th—oh my god,” he groans mid-sentence, eyes rolling up into his head. Chewing slowly, Steve claps a hand over his mouth to muffle the lewd moan that threatens to escape him as bold, decadent flavors burst on his tongue. Tony was right—this stuff is sinful.

Steve’s so wrapped up in the food he’s eating that he almost, almost misses Tony muttering Jesus under his breath. It doesn’t sound embarrassed or insulted. When he opens his eyes, Steve finds Tony watching him so avidly, it’s hard to notice anything else other than the way the man’s pupils have dilated considerably and is leaning forward, almost over the bowl.

Tony licks his lips. Steve tries hard not to stare.

“Sorry,” he says with a chuckle in an attempt to diffuse tension, “but that stuff is ridiculously good.” Steve’s really glad he didn’t wear the tie now, given how hot under the collar he feels all of a sudden. Tony’s looked at him a lot of ways, but never like that—like the only thing stopping him from launching himself across the table at Steve is the table, itself. “I can see why you’re always raving about it.”

“Steve,” Tony says. He hasn’t touched his pasta. The fork is just kind of there in his hand, like he’s forgotten he’s even holding it. Steve looks at him again.

“What? Did I get some on my face?” he asks, retrieving his napkin and wiping his mouth with it. Tony makes a rough, strangled sound in the back of his throat and, when drowning it with wine doesn’t help, puts his fork all the way down on the table and buries his face in his hands.

“I can’t do this,” Tony whines. The conversations happening around them are loud, but not so loud Steve doesn’t hear him say it. The words cut him like a cold knife sharply through the middle. His head feels woozy, and not in the airy fun way it should be after drinking good wine for two and a half hours. How did things end up here so quickly? A minute ago Steve was having a religious experience and now Tony face is ashen and drawn. He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh god,” Tony groans, “please, do not apologize. It’s me. It’s very much me.”

This seems like a fork-down conversation. Steve places his on the table and tries not to glance longingly at the pasta on his plate. Steve knows when Tony is gathering himself to speak, which is exactly what’s happening now, so he waits and doesn’t eat. He does take a drink, though. That much feels appropriate.

“Just so I’ve got it right,” Tony finally says after an unbearably quiet moment, a palm pressed against his own forehead, “you definitely had zero input vis à vis this whole blind date setup?”

He’s deliberately not looking at Steve when he asks it. If Steve could put a word to his expression, he’d say Tony looks downright despondent at the idea, even if they’d already established earlier that yes, this thing was entirely Nat’s idea because she’s an unrepentant troll.

The dissonance doesn’t make sense. But it does put hope in Steve’s heart where there wasn’t any before.

“I didn’t,” he says, watching Tony’s face intently. He knows it so well at this point, he can tell when Tony’s smile is fake or real, when he’s wounded and won’t admit it, when he’s tired but can’t sleep. So Steve notices all too easily when the corner of Tony’s mouth dips down, a fraction of an inch of a frown, before he recovers with a laugh and claps his hands.

“All good then,” Tony chuckles, but he won’t look Steve in the eye anymore. He picks up his fork and starts to tuck in, chewing so fast it’s like he’s racing toward a finish line Steve can’t see and doesn’t know how to keep from approaching, except—

“Why,” Steve blurts out, stopping Tony mid-chew, “were you hoping I did?”

Tony’s eyes fly open but are heavily guarded when he looks back at Steve from across the table. No take-backs, Steve tells himself.

Tony puts down his fork again.

“What if I did?” he counters.

“You can’t answer my question with a question, Tony,” Steve says, smirking when Tony’s expression flickers.

“Watch me.”

“I am.”

“Steve.”

“Tony.”

Tony huffs. Before he can cross his arms defensively, before either of them can think another thought, Steve reaches out with both hands, pulls Tony forward by the front of his too-nice shirt and kisses him, fast and firm and warm. The kiss is a point being made more than anything else, but a point nonetheless.

Tony’s lips are yielding and taste faintly of wine and carpaccio piemontese. Kissing him feels more right than Steve could have imagined (and he’d imagined a lot, elaborately and often). One peck and he knows without a doubt he could kiss Tony for hours. But that’s all besides the point. The point is now, Tony knows.

Before he can pull away and apologize (again) for his behavior, Steve feels more than hears Tony sigh against his lips. Then Tony tilts his head a fraction and suddenly Steve’s the one being kissed. Thoughts of anything alla vodka fly out of his head in a rush as Tony licks the closed seam of his lips and tongues him deep and slow when they open. Steve’s fingers are still grasping the front of the Tony’s shirt; he knows he should release him and stop this while things are still relatively PG. Instead Tony nibbles on his bottom lip and Steve releases that lewd moan he’d held back a few minutes ago right into Tony’s mouth.

Steve has just enough brainpower left to remember that 1) they’re surrounded by onlookers, and 2) if they keep going like this, Duncan’s going to have to throw them out. Would that really be such a bad thing, his lizard brain supplies, unhelpfully.

Decided, Steve lets go of Tony’s shirt with a gasp. They both fall back into their chairs with a whoosh. Between them, the steam rising off the rigatoni alla vodka swirls, disturbed by the sudden breeze, then continues curling lightly upwards like nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Like Steve’s entire life wasn’t just irrevocably changed, upended, by a single kiss.

Picking up his fork, Steve licks the taste of Tony from his lips as he looks across the table at his date and takes another bite of pasta. Tony looks back. He looks hungry.

“What did I tell you,” Tony says when Steve moans softly again. This time, he doesn’t miss the way Tony stares lingeringly at his mouth like he wants another taste. “Sinful.”

- - -

Send me an AU prompt!

#stevetony #superhusbands #stony #stony fic #omg-its-peachy #prompt fill #I HOPE THIS IS OK IT'S MY FIRST PROMPT FILL OK BYYYEEEE #steve rogers #tony stark #rachel writes fic #blind date AU #steve still makes natasha his sparring partner for two weeks but then he gives her a deep tissue massage and tony buys her louboutins

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ticklikeabomb · 5 years ago

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Grouch - Part 3

Pairing : Bucky x Plus Size Reader ; Avengers x Plus Size Reader

Warning : Language ; Bucky being an ass (again) ; Angst ; Mention of major death

Word Count : 1.5k

Disclaimer : I do not own the characters, nor the universe where they were created and interact in. This series/fiction is only for entertainment purposes.

A/N : I’m sorry it took so long but hope it was worth it :)

Steve woke up early. For several weeks now he was incapable to get some good night sleep. He blamed himself for not interfering between you and Bucky when he had the occasion, before it all went south. He blamed himself even more after discovering what Hydra did to you. Your legs and arms were replaced by Vibranium, your memories erased and your reflexes and fighting mode improved, meaning they transformed you as a Super Soldier. In appearance, you were no more but Steve was stubborn and he would not give up on you. He put some clean sweatpants and a tight white T-shirt and made himself ready for a run. After a quick stretch, he began his running routine.

“Did you sleep last night?”, asked Nat entering Tony’s lab. “What’s that?”, he responded ironically. A sad smile formed on her lips for a fraction before looking at him seriously. “You need to rest. We won’t find her if you’re not one hundred percent your best and right now, you look like a mess.” “Wow thanks love”, sarcastically replied the billionaire. “We all want her …” “Look I get it I do but you didn’t see her eyes. Her lifeless look. Her last words towards me.” Nat nodded in comprehension and patted his back. “I know it shook you up but if F.R.I.D.A.Y finds anything, the slight hitch, she’ll warn us. Go get some sleep Tony.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed after the Widow left the room. He decided to take her advice and informed the A.I to wake him up at any news. While the other Avengers were at their occupation, Bucky took refuge at the gym. His punches became more and more violent at each memory of you crossing his mind, especially the time he asked you on a date.

Flashback (4 years ago)

“What do you guys think about spicing this evening up?”, smirked Sam, a beer in his hand. Steve chuckled before taking a gulp of his own drink and letting his gaze wander across the dim lit club. Not getting the reaction he was looking for, Sam stubbornly continued. “Ah come on grandpas. When’s the last time you two got nasty in the sheets?” “Hmm Tuesday”, mumbled Bucky. The other two men looked at him dumbfounded. “You were on a mission on Tuesday”, said Steve. “Exactly”, smirked Bucky. “You did not? The target’s wife?”, choked Sam. Bucky’s grin was enough of a reply for both men to understand. “You could have compromised the whole operation”, commented Steve with a frown to which Bucky rolled his eyes at his friend’s strict policy. “What can I say, she practically jumped on me. I would have been a fool if I left a damsel on distress.” Steve took another gulp of his drink while shaking his head in disapproval.

“Alright, alright, let’s make some bets. Steve, I bet you don’t have the balls to go talk to that lady over there whose been eyeing you since we got here”, grinned Sam. “Ha ha ha very funny and she has not”, counterattacked Steve. Both of Sam and Bucky gave him a knowing look and Steve took a deep breath. “Ok, you’re lost Wilson”, said Steve and marched towards the woman in question and engaged conversation. The Falcon quickly checked his phone before turning towards Bucky with a smirk gracing his features. “I bet you to ask the next lady stepping foot in this club for a date.” “You’re sure you wanna play with me little bird?”, cockily answered Bucky. “Absolutely”, he immediately replied. “Fine”, exclaimed Bucky almost triumphantly. Both of them kept looking at the door until they saw you enter the club. Bucky’s smiled instantly faded away before mumbling through greeted teeth. “You got to be fucking kidding me!” “Seems like you gotta ask the new team member on a date Barnes”, chuckled Sam. “You said the next lady not that”, spat the former Winter Soldier. His friend frowned and turned his way, “What the hell is your problem man? Y/N is a good-looking woman, very nice, with a great sense of humor and sweet. I don’t understand why you’re being such an ass. You don’t even know her and a bet is a bet.”

“Why don’t you date her since you like her so much”, spat Bucky, his clenched fists beside him. “Because I don’t see her more as a friend and besides, I’m sure she’s interested in someone else”, he simply replied. “Who??”, immediately asked Bucky before regaining his composure. “Why? I thought you didn’t care?” “I don’t.” Sam hummed at Barnes’ non so convincing answer. Bucky looked at you up and down and clenched his jaw before drinking the rest of his drink and clear his throat.

You were finishing a line of shots with Wanda and Natasha when you felt a presence at your right. “Hello Barnes, having a good time?”, you asked without looking at him. He chuckled softly before replying, “How did you know it was me?” “I can smell your cologne from a mile away.” He took a deep breath before leaning in closer. “Always on duty I see.” You decided to face him and leaned on the counter, his eyes scanning your cleavage before he realized he was busted. “Danger is everywhere. Gotta stay sharp”, you simply replied. “Can I get you another drink?” You skeptically rose your eyebrow at his attitude. You didn’t know why he was acting that way towards you. Since you joined the team, his constant posture towards you was cold. You shook your shoulders and replied, “Sure, why not.” He kept small talking to you before he asked you on a date making you almost spit your drink out. “Excuse me?” “I figured that I came across as cold and was wondering if we could start over again over a diner?” You hummed in hesitation but eventually agreed. Who wouldn’t? The infamous Bucky Barnes charms didn’t leave you indifferent.

A few days later, after preparing yourself from head to toe, you arrived at the restaurant and were escorted to your table. Bucky wasn’t there yet. “Would you like something to drink Miss?” “No thank you, I’m waiting for someone.” The waiter nodded in comprehension and gave you some space. You checked around the crowded restaurant and it was even more disturbing since your table was in the middle of the room. Your patience began to ran thin when you realized that he was being 15min late. The other client’s looks weren’t helping and neither was the waiter who kept coming back to you. “I’m sorry Miss but it’s been over an hour and we have other clients waiting.” You nodded, fury consuming you. “I understand, I’m sorry.” The term walk of shame never sounded so correct. Shame, embarrassment and humiliation were the exact feelings would describe the state you were in.

As soon as you entered the compound’s elevator, you retrieved your high heels and took a deep breath, sadness taking over. Arriving at your floor, you heard some noises coming from the living room and cautiously, you decided to check on them. What you saw make your blood go cold. There he was, on the couch, a blond top model dry humping on his leg, his mouth on her neck. Feeling that they were being interrupted, the former Winter Soldier turned his face towards you and smiled, “Oh hey Y/N” “Are you fucking kidding me? I waited for you for an hour”, you spat. “You really believed I would go on a date with you? So naïve. It was all a bet with Sam.” He could as good as stabbed you right through the chest. You were seeing red and retrieved the hidden gun from your chest and pointed at his face, pulling the trigger. He managed to block the bullet with his metal arm at the last second. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”, he screamed while his date began screaming. “Next time I won’t miss”, you exclaimed deeply making him slightly shiver.

Present day

Natasha was the last one to join the team in the kitchen for some breakfast. Something wasn’t right. “Where’s Steve?”, she asked. “I don’t know, probably finishing his early jog”, replied Sam nonchalant. “That’s weird. He should be back by now”, she mumbled to herself. Across the table, Wanda was digging holes at Bucky’s head, who kept himself as quiet and small as he mastered. At that precise time, F.R.I.D.A.Y alerted the compound and turned the TV on. What they saw made them shiver. “No”, whispered Bucky. Hydra projected on all channels and media their last video in which we could see Steve strained on a chair and you, emotionless pointing a gun at him.

“My name is Madame Hydra and this is for the greater cause. Witness our power in action. The day has finally come for the universe to get the scum disappear for good. Isn’t it poetic, an ex-Avenger killing his comrade?” The next second, the sound of you pulling the trigger echoed and Steve’s head bursting backwards. The video ended and the news flash began, declaring Captain America’s death all over the world.

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amphtaminedreams · 5 years ago

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Paris Haute Couture Week S/S 2020 Plus a Little Jacquemus: Okay, Dior DID Suck (Part 2/2)

Hi to anyone reading,

First of all, thank you! I have never had a post do as well as the part 1 of my haute couture week review did and I am so overwhelmed with the positive feedback. This is probably funny to read for those of you getting thousands of reblogs on your posts, me acting like I won an academy award because I got a couple of hundred, but honestly I don’t expect any traction when I write on here (it’s basically just me word vomiting everything I’m thinking as if people want to hear it aka. mouthing off into what I thought was the void) so if you did read it, thank you! I do spend a long-ass time on these so it means a lot:-)

I’ll leave the self-indulgent ramble there though as it’s probably not what you came for and jump straight into part 2 of my thoughts, starting with Jacquemus. Yeah, I knew what I was doing when I tagged that in my last post. Simon Porte Jacquemus is the man of the *fashion* people right now; I’ve even found myself coming round to the Le Chiquito bag despite my original thought being “well, that’s fucking useless”. I know, I know, technically it’s not haute couture; it was part of Men’s Fashion Week, but it happened around the same time and everyone was talking about it on Twitter, so I feel like I have to include it.

In a way, it kind of reminds me of Bottega Veneta’s last RTW show, in that, especially with the women’s outfits, we seem to be sticking with simple, fitted garments and chunky, more statement jewellery. I’ve got to say I like the styling here a lot more though, and in general I’m a fan of this collection. The collared tops with cut outs underneath blazers are cool and I can’t wait until it gets warm enough for me to not feel dumb wearing my headscarfs like this; there’s a LOT of summer outfit inspiration. It’s not a mind-blowing collection or anything but it is effortlessly sexy and that’s something I wish I could say about myself. Most of us can only hope to look half as good as these models do whilst making the effort but at least Jacquemus is aspirational, lol.

I also fucking adore this colour palette. I’m sick of neutrals literally just meaning brown and white; the navy, sand and muted khaki is a fresh edition to what is usually interpreted as the colours you’d seen worn by Disney’s Riverboat Cruise staff and only Disney’s Riverboat Cruise staff. And I mean, come on-what is more neutral than typical English school carpet blue.

Next for the whole reason I had to make this haute couture week review 2 separate posts: Jean Paul Gaultier’s final show.

In the best way possible, it’s a lot. I don’t even really know where to start, except to say that I guess this is a fitting last show; a celebration of everything campy, messy, weird, performative, and punk is the perfect send off for a brand whose best known perfume of the last few years is called Scandal. More than anything, the final show represented the range of characters and cultures that have influenced JPG throughout his half-a-decade-long career, the lines that supposedly separate what is “masculine” and “feminine”, “old” and “young” and ultimately art and fashion blurred in the most exaggerated way possible. Sure, there are some looks which are individually a bit messy here but the way they were grouped into almost chapter-like segments meant that when you see them all together, they work. Nods to the patterns and structures that recurred from season to season were sprinkled throughout, from sailor stripes to corsets to the expected whirlwinds of colour. I’ll even allow the wellies in that one outfit; if I can get over bucket hats in Peter fucking Pilotto’s last RTW show, I can get over some questionable shoes here. Middle aged fishermen and boys who liked to pose with monster carp in their Tinder pictures as some weird display of masculinity everywhere rejoice.

Now onto a show that I personally found slightly disappointing: Margiela.

I think this one is a bit TOO weird for me. Like if you’re gonna go avant-garde, go all out. Chiffon gimp masks (I don’t know if that’s the intention here but that’s what I’m getting, sorry Maison) are something I’m not particularly fond of and I’ve never been a fan of the Tabi boots in the first place, let alone when they’ve seemingly been blown up to Michelin man style proportions. I didn’t find the show to be a total lost cause-I enjoyed the colour palette and I’ve always liked that contrast stitching detail, plus the bowler hats are interesting-but on the whole considering how much I liked the last RTW show, this is a bit of a let down.

The looks I included are salvageable but (I feel mean saying this) there were genuinely a lot of pieces that did just resemble bits of fabric draped over each over with no discernible rhyme or reason, so much so that they reminded me of some of the monstrosities I saw at a Drag Race pub quiz this one time where we had 5 mins to make some garms out of loo roll and then have a team member model them for points down a makeshift runway.

Ralph and Russo was alright. There were a few pieces that I really liked but again, I can’t help but compare this collection to the last, where it felt like the fussy details of bows and sequins and feathers and the Barbie Dreamhouse palette were utilised with a direction in mind. Here, I don’t get that. As ever, the gowns are gorgeous and I’d pay good money just to try one on for five minutes but as an overall collection I’d say there was a lack of higher vision, which is probably the snobbiest sentence I’ve ever written so forgive me.

As for Ronald Van Der Kemp, I could’ve done without including it to be honest, if it weren’t for the few pieces I’m in love with: the velvet cape, fur trimmed jacket and blue satin dress are probably my favourite pieces here.

So onto a collection I liked a lot more: Schiaparelli.

The influence of nature from flowers in bloom to insects to the organic structure of the human skeleton is as present as ever, though this collection includes a lot more delicate symbolism than usual. Honestly, the details make it for me; the brooches, earrings and facial jewellery are other-worldly touches to outfits that could otherwise be simple fashion magazine editor on-the-go. That’s not in itself a bad thing! The suits are gorgeous. I mean, I’m talking fashion editor in New York in a power suit yelling orders down the phone while she rushes along with a coffee. A Miranda Priestley in the making type woman. THAT’S a modern take on the divine feminine that Maria Grazia should’ve been going for; our goddesses aren’t women who sit around looking pretty (though that helps too) and place curses on mere mortals anymore, they’re women who get shit done.

With regards to Valentino, which was also a delight, let me start by saying this colour palette is EVERYTHING. It’s ugly sisters in Cinderella fantastic, and we know those 2 were the real fashion icons really. Other than that, I adore the Old Hollywood silhouettes from the gloves to the Liz Taylor-in-Cleopatra-level-dramatic earrings. Everything is opulent and expensive-looking and pretty much what we’ve all come to expect from Valentino. A strong 8/10.

For me personally, Viktor and Rolf was a standout and one of my favourite collections of haute couture week. It’s not going to be everyone’s cup of tea and I know it’s at the complete opposite end of the spectrum to what was probably my other favourite collection, Elie Saab, but this is just my style down to a T, the perfect balance of grungy and cutesy that I want to achieve.

There’s probably going to be a lot of objections to the temporary face tattoos and I get that, but I think they’re fucking sick. I obviously wouldn’t get a permanent one lest my mother murder me in cold blood however if I did, you bet I would be pairing them with frilly-ass babydoll dresses that you could pick up in Camden Market like this.

And last but not least (that would be Dior), there’s Zuhair Murad.

Sigh.

IDK, man. Seeing Zuhair Murad dresses on Tumblr and WeHeartIt (remember that site? It still exists!) as a 14 year old was one of the things that got me into fashion, so it sucks that almost every time a new collection comes around, I feel underwhelmed. Disappointingly, the brand hasn’t really progressed all that much since 2013. It goes without saying that the stoning and the embroidery and sequins are stunning and would make anyone feel like a princess but from a critical point of view, I’m just not seeing anything new here. Whereas I feel like Elie Saab, for example, reflected the growing fascination with East Asian fashion and recognition of the supremacy of the region’s street style in his haute couture last collection, Zuhair Murad seems to be stuck designing the same dresses he was 6 years ago.

To pick one example, the rounded stoned necklines are so outdated that they’ve been making their way onto department store prom dresses for years. I get that it’s supposed to be a reference to Ancient Egyptian style and I respect that, I was one of those 8 year old that was obsessed with mummies and the “Curse of Tutankhamun”, but couldn’t it be done in a more interesting way? It’s Maria Grazia’s spin on Ancient Greece all over again. Now I get how how the I imagine very niche subsection of people who are into fashion and Julius Caesar (okay, so I don’t even know if they still believed in mythology and all that malarky at that point in history but just roll with my comparison here) might’ve felt going through Vogue Runway. Anyway, I hate to end on a critical note and so be clear, these are still absolutely magnificent dresses. If we ignore those ugly round necklines, that is.

So that’s it for this post! If you read part 1 and 2, I hope you enjoyed it! As always, let me know your opinions and feel free to disagree. I’m literally just about to start trawling through all the A/W 2020 RTW collections though I imagine that’s gonna take me way longer to do than this, so I wouldn’t expect that for a month or two. In the meantime, I’m trying to fit shooting a Euphoria-inspired lookbook into my days off work which is looking atm like it’s going to be the end of March, so look out for that, and also a review of the red carpet fashion from this season’s award shows.

As ever, thank you so much for reading and again, thank you for the reception on part 1 if you were one of the people that read it. It makes staying up til 3am with the jitters seem worthwhile, lol!

Lauren x

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lily-of-the-eyrie · 5 years ago

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Here’s that long-overdue revision of that cast sheet attached to my first info post on the 35th, featuring the Colonel’s team! 🍊

Extended character sheets & HCs below:

🍊 The Colonel

Born: 1700 Age (in 1750): 50

The fatherly commanding officer of the 35th. Known for the sincerity in his concern for the rest of his soldiers, from the oldest of officers to the newest of recruits, he’s well-loved by his men.

The type to regularly check in on his subordinates, he keeps a close eye on everyone to make sure they stay out of trouble. It’s not only about making sure everybody’s doing their job, though—if he notices a soldier looking like they’re down in the dumps for one reason or another, he’s never afraid to step in and talk to them. As such, he wound up knowing quite a bit about a lot of his men’s personal lives (but he wouldn’t tell another soul, you have his word on it). On the other end, said men agree that he’s a very approachable boss.

Generally a gentle teacher, he’s not a huge fan of using corporal punishment like it’s the one solution to every problem. But he is still quite the strict disciplinarian, and holds all his subordinates to high standards. While this means he wouldn’t flog anyone over an improperly-cocked hat or a sloppily worn coat, do expect those concerned to get advised about it (relentlessly, if they persist in their inattentiveness).

Through his eternally busy days juggling the regiment’s management with Templar work, he makes it a point to ensure that his soldiers are well taken care of. He took it as his obligation and duty to them as their leader, and a proper reward for their loyalty and the hardships they suffer through in the name of their service; however, he also inwardly also saw it as a way to make up for the unfortunate and worrying frequency with which his men seemed to, in one way or another, keep getting caught in the crossfire of the Templar-Assassin war, which follows him wherever he goes as a member of the Templar Order.

===

Through the years, the Colonel had accumulated something of a close team of soldiers within his own regiment whose members had, at some point in time, had an unfortunate run-in with the Assassins, and are therefore more aware of the shadowy war unfolding around them than the rest of their oblivious comrades. Not all of them are full time Templars, but if the Colonel needs a few extra hands to help him carry out some Templar duties (or even anything else outside work, really), they’re always ready to chip in.

Here’s a quick chart for everyone, sorted by age:

===

🍊 John

Born: 1697 Age (in 1750): 53

One of the veteran sergeants within the regiment, John’s the oldest member of the gang—older than even the Colonel himself, in fact (by 3 years, to be precise). Usually found somewhere near his boss, he’s the only actual ring-carrying Templar in the party, and serves as the Colonel’s personal aide in the Order’s matters.

Calm and even-tempered, he’s attentive to his charges, who in turn consider him someone they can easily talk to about their problems. He’s grown into a sort of mentor figure in the barracks, and as such, if there’s any internal trouble brewing among the soldiers, he’s often the first to pick up on it—he’s got eyes and ears on every wall.

A really, really old friend of the Colonel’s, he’s been standing at the man’s side for the last 40 years, serving as his assistant since the day Monro stepped into the barracks as a fresh-faced greenhorn no older than 16. The arrangement had been the work of the Colonel’s father, who’d wanted someone to help his son settle down into his new life with the army and the local Templar network—a request that John had volunteered to fulfill.

While that was the first time the two of them met, the story goes way further back. John's father was a soldier who had once fought alongside Monro Sr. in Flanders during the Nine Years War; coming along with the latter’s family when they moved over to Ireland, he’d been serving them as a guard. An Assassin attack targeting Monro Sr. at around this time ended up killing John’s father in the process; feeling responsible for his friend’s death, the Colonel’s father decided to help support the man’s widow and 5-year-old son even after the Monros moved back to Scotland. Eventually, when he got older, John joined the 35th Foot, and was only too happy to help when he heard that his longtime patron’s son was coming over.

Having stood side by side with the Colonel for literally his whole career both as a soldier and as a Templar, they’d been through a lot of shit together, and John knows a lot of things about his boss many others have no idea about. From paltry episodes like watching young Ensign Monro fumble with the regimental colours for the first time to life-or-death situations like covering for each other during clashes in Assassin territory, he’s been there and done it all. If you want to hear an interesting story about the Colonel, you can try grill John for one (he’s one tight-lipped fellow though, so it won’t be easy).

Given his circumstances, he’s got a good reason to not be very fond of Assassins, but doesn’t let it get to his head, and he’d long outgrown any leftover considerations of petty revenge. He’s more concerned about avoiding the same fate that befell his father now.

While it took him a very long time to get promoted to Sergeant, he has no intention of going any higher, since his current position puts him in the best place to still stick around the rank and file. The Colonel can approach any of the officers anytime and keep tabs on them himself, but seeing that there are things that most of the common soldiers would consider too petty or crass to talk about right in front of him, that’s pretty much John’s front to cover (though the privates, on the other hand, have somewhat noticed that whatever they tell John seems to find its way to the Colonel’s ear soon enough, and do use him as an unofficial multipurpose helpline from time to time).

Took a liking to muskets for their versatility, and makes it a point to get good at using one…which he did, earning the jealous glare of the resident self-proclaimed best shot, Philip.

🍊 Thomas

Born: 1726 Age (in 1750): 24

An easygoing fellow who takes things in stride, he believes the cheapest and most effective way to lessen any kind of misery is to let go of them ASAP. Though he’s incessantly chirpy for most part, his friends do appreciate his ability to keep people’s spirits up even in trying times.

Joined the army for the money—coming from a family on the verge of poverty with too many children but too little money to afford an apprenticeship for every one of them, and rather enticed by the idea of traveling around by joining the army, he took up soldiering instead (plus he thinks the uniforms look cool).

Very close with William, one of his older brothers who signed up together with him. While they’re polar opposites in terms of personality, they’re pretty much joined at the hip in everything else. You’ll see them going around together most of the time.

After an incident involving working together with the Colonel and John to save William, who had gotten kidnapped by some thugs in 1743 shortly after they joined the regiment, he’d grown to be quite attached to his commander, and is always ready to do anything for the man (yes, he always goes around camp looking like the Colonel’s biggest fan and isn’t ashamed of it). He’s usually up and about running errands for the Colonel.

Good at cooking, he seems to always know the right moment to flip a pancake or take the stew off the fire, or exactly how much salt or sugar to put on something. While most of the other soldiers considered cooking just another part of their daily routine, he approached it like a hobby (and will totally offer to run errands for you in exchange for some condiments he couldn’t obtain by himself). In the meantime, his mates are more than happy to leave cooking duties to him—especially William, who’s fully aware that he can’t cook for shit and owns it.

Always hungering for cooking ingredients, Thomas will often frequent the garrison’s gardens looking to trade materials with some friends, and spends a lot of time at the town markets. Once out in the wilderness in the colonies though, he’s often found wandering among the light infantry company in search of wild mushroom picking tips or the like... Or he might just go bug Gist when he’s around.

🍊 William

Born: 1724 Age (in 1750): 26

Thomas’ more responsible older brother.

Tries to keep Tommy out of trouble 90% of the time, but may be tempted to join in for the remaining 10%.

Aware of their family’s unfortunate financial state, suffering from difficulty in finding other kinds of work, and seeing joining the army as better than being a vagrant, he decided to go along with his brother’s career plans. Still, he’s hoping they don’t have to get sent right into the frontlines…

Got kidnapped while on patrol duty once. It turns out that the kidnappers were affiliated with the Assassins, and were paid to beat some information out of a particular redcoat which their sources told them could help with identifying a suspected Templar—except they got the wrong person (they were actually looking for John). He was eventually saved with the Colonel’s and Thomas’ combined efforts, but the incident did leave a few scars, the most noticeable one being the cut right across his face.

Needless to say, he came out of the experience a little worse for wear, but grew the same attachment his brother did for their commander. The Colonel was still a Captain back then, but still, seeing one of your higher-tier superiors come to get your commoner ass out of trouble in person is pretty powerful stuff.

While not as impulsive and/or courageous as his little brother, William is the more strategic of the two. He doesn’t get much credit for it as a foot soldier whose on-the-job effectiveness depends on how well he follows orders, but if you’re planning a sneak attempt into or out of an Assassin hideout and need someone who can think on his feet, he’s your man.

Very good at cards, so much that anyone who played against him will say that the only winning move is to not play at all. He jokes that it’s all because his bad luck is all getting used up elsewhere, but honestly nobody knows how he kept such a good win-lose ratio.

Not a very good cook. He can help with preparing the materials, but once they’re in the pan or the pot, it’s Jesus-take-the-wheel time.

🍊 Philip

Born: 1721 Age (in 1750): 29

A ladies’ man with a showy streak.

To his credit, he never brags about something he didn’t work to earn.

Joined the army primarily to impress a girl he was smitten with, and was always eager to drill, march, or anything “soldierly”. Unfortunately, the girl ended up taking off with someone else instead, which threw him off for a bit. The Colonel, noticing that the promising new kid everyone’s talking about seemed rather distraught, helped him get back up on his feet (…by taking him to go blow some stuff up together in the training field, but the point was that it worked).

He’s always trying to stay on top of the class among his colleagues, but is a good teacher to his juniors. He’s also got something of a friendly(?) rivalry going on with John.

When not on duty, he’s usually hanging out in the nearest pub, charming (or trying to charm) the local ladies over some drinks.

He loves the view from the guard towers, and will continue to loudly proclaim it no matter how many insinuations about intelligence and high altitude his friends lovingly toss at him (it’s something of a running joke at this point, yes).

A sharp-eyed fellow, he’d often be the first guard, if not the only one, to spot some shady hooded figures slipping around the base. The other guards seem to think that he was hallucinating or making things up because they never saw anything...but not the Colonel, who gave Philip a toned-down explanation of the hooded figures’ identity, and tasked him with keeping the base safe from them as well as he can.

🍊 Henry

Born: 1721 Age (in 1750): 29

The local stick-in-the-mud.

The second son of a relatively prosperous landowner, he lived a comfortable life growing up. Having dreamed of joining the army since he was a boy, he’d joined in as soon as he can, and had plans of paying his way up the career ladder quickly...until a string of bad business deals soured the family finances, rendering the plan unfeasible. Not keen on quitting halfway through (and more than a little in denial about his now flatter, lighter purse), he resolved to just earn those promotions with sheer hard work instead.

This did give him a bit of a complex about his superiors though, especially the lower-ranking ones, since he believed the only difference between them and himself is that they had money and he didn’t. Of course, he couldn’t talk shit about them openly, but he does fret about it a lot…

He grew to be a bit of penny-pincher, a trait he saw as common and inevitable among the foot soldiers due to their very meagre pay, but didn’t expect the higher-ranking, definitely better paid officers to have—which was why he was surprised to find out that the Colonel, unlike his presumably rich fellow commanders, seemed rather stingy himself. He turned up his nose at this in the beginning, until the Colonel took notice of his management skills and entrusted him with some of the renovation projects he’d been doing on the side. Having discovered that said projects were where most of his superior’s money had gone, his opinion of the Colonel took a turn for the better.

Eventually warming up to the job, he grew an attachment to the idea that it was a thing worth doing well, and had been pouring his full effort into it ever since. The Colonel’s quite pleased with this development.

His renovation-related errands often sends him right at Paul, one of the regiment’s grenadiers who had previously worked in construction. They became good friends pretty quickly.

Speaking of which, even outside his errands, Henry tends to hang around Paul a lot—since he’s a rather slight fellow, Thomas theorizes that he may have felt safer standing close to people who look like 100-year-old trees...

Tends to overthink things, needs to be watered with reassurance regularly.

Highly susceptible to the cold, he doesn’t do very well during winters. He’d really rather stay indoors when it’s snowy outside...

While he spends a lot of time with paperwork, he’s also an impressively fast runner, and could beat the rest of the group easily in a footrace—a fact that he’s inevitably rather smug about.

Since his involvement with the Colonel’s work mostly centers around his renovation projects, Henry’s the one least exposed to the Assassin Brotherhood among his friends. However, he does have an extensive knowledge of the Colonel’s friend network outside the army, and often wonders why they all wear that fancy ring.

🍊 Paul

Born: 1715 Age (in 1750): 35

The quietest of the bunch. Neither wordy nor loud, you won’t hear much from him while at work.

Formerly a bricklayer by trade, he joined in for a more stable, less seasonal income. He’s usually found quietly doing whatever task happened to be assigned to him that day, and probably one of the few people in the camp who isn’t bored to death by sentry duty.

It was during one such shift guarding one of the army’s storehouses during the regiment’s stay in Cork that he first encountered an Assassin. While by no means a careless fighter, he’d also never seen a hidden blade before—a disadvantage that nearly got him killed. Surviving the assault by the sheer luck of help arriving before he bled out to death on the ground like the rest of his comrades around him, he’d been wondering about the strange blade ever since—until he saw the Colonel going toe to toe with someone wielding one such weapon like he’d been doing it all his life. Naturally, he’s got some questions for his commander, who taught him just enough to keep himself and the other soldiers alive should they run into another wielder of this mysterious blade.

On a more informal level, he’s more or less the unofficial babysitter for the party, in charge of breaking up petty bickering between William and Thomas, playing Henry’s therapist, trying to make sure Philip doesn’t drink himself under the table when fooling around at the bar, etc. The Colonel’s quite thankful for his looking out for the others, since he often couldn’t do it himself.

He took a liking to fishing, seeing it as a hobby where he can sit alone in peace for a (rather long) while. During off hours, you might see him by the quayside or on the shore.

🍊 Extra HCs

Given their varying circumstances, all the boys have differing levels of awareness when it comes to the Templars’ and Assassins’ existence. ・John knows pretty much all the ground details of the Colonel’s Templar operations and sometimes even tags along with him on them, but he doesn’t sit in meetings the Colonel has with the Order’s higher-ups (Birch, Lawrence, Haytham, etc.) ・The Walsh brothers, given their close-and-personal encounter with the Assassins, kinda know that (1) there’s this thing called “the Assassin Brotherhood”, and (2) for whatever reason, they’re out for the Colonel and his friends. They’re not sure what to make of it, but they’re 100% certain they’re not going to let those shady guys have their commander. ・Henry has no idea whatsoever about the Assassins, and with his specialty being renovation-related desk jobs, he doesn’t really have the chance to run into them. ・Philip and Paul only know that if they see someone skulking around the base wearing a hood and has a knife strapped to their arm, they can’t be up to any good; however, the Colonel had ordered them not to engage these suspicious figures unless they get too close to the fort/camp, and be extra careful when they choose to fight them.

When it comes to splitting up into groups for work, John, Thomas, and William tend to work with the Colonel on out-of-base activities, while Henry, Philip, and Paul watch the base while they’re gone. However, when the situation calls for it, they can get swapped around; for example, if the Colonel needs extra help on the bone-crunching side, he could bring Paul instead of Thomas or William (though those two tend to get antsy if you split them up, no matter how much they deny it, so there’s that to consider too—team management is such great fun /s)

The Colonel originally had no plans to adopt so many people in his own regiment, since he risked tipping off the Assassins about a Templar’s presence in it if he did, but well, sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way you planned it to be. In the end, rather than repeatedly letting his men get stabbed for a war they never even knew existed, he decided to let a few of them know what they’re up against. He’s fully aware that he’d get in hot water with his Templar seniors if he starts handing out adoption papers to all his soldiers like it’s going out of style though, so he does keep a cap on it, even if it means he can’t always save them all—a fact that plagues him a lot.

That said, he does find his little accidental gang to be very lovable, even if some of its members do not have their shit together sometimes...but they’ll grow up eventually.

On the group’s end, knowing that their boss actually gave a damn about their problems and whether they lived or died did a lot to solidify their loyalty to him—or, as they like to call it, their “sense of teamwork”.

📝 Miscellaneous Notes

Thank you for reading! I’ve been toying with the idea of giving the Colonel some friends among his own troops, and well, it’s not AC until the Assassins get involved, so I tried writing in how the common redcoats under his command would have potentially interacted with the Brotherhood—something which we all know happens quite frequently 👀

When developing this crew, I made it a point to tie them into the Colonel’s story in one way or another—this ranges from callbacks to stuff us players had had to do (Henry w/ renovation sidequests, Paul w/ warehouse raids), bits of info in the Colonel’s lines (Philip’s story grew out of that gunpowder line at Ben Franklin’s place), and main story quest-type ideas (Thomas & William’s story was written as something that could’ve fit into an Assassin-related Templar mission). John’s a bit of a special case: his job is mainly to be someone who knows what’s really going on other than the Colonel himself, because otherwise the poor man wouldn’t have anyone to talk to 😂 Also I thought it’d be nice to give the Colonel someone who’s to him like Lee or Holden was for Haytham, so there he goes 😀

Given how this entire gang’s story happened pre-1750 and I haven’t fine-tuned all the details of that segment of the Colonel’s backstory yet, I might still change a few parts of that character data table (this is why their birthplaces are so vague 😂), but this is what I’ve got so far.

#⟪Portraiture 🎨⟫#⟪Muster Roll 👥⟫#after 14398 years the boys are finally #ready to roll out #😂#alright so #now if you see some redcoats wandering around in the background of my doodles #you can probably tell who they are #:3c

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shaineybainey · 4 years ago

Text

“Noble Intentions”

Lab Rats [T]

The Lab Rats and Mighty Med teams face off with the greatest threat to humanity yet: The Incapacitator, a supervillain bent on becoming the most powerful in the planet. …Which makes things super awkward for Leo, considering that their newest nemesis is his father. AU. Lab Rats vs Mighty Med redux.

** DISCLAIMER: SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR DISCLAIMER **

tagging: @vcnting @cecespuffs @quimbionics @verified-dumbass @clockradio93 @weareoutofmaplesyrupdave @aaaaahhhhh1234 @serpent-princess

VI: And In Time These Things Shall Be Revealed

Tasha doesn’t think she can ever get used to this. She’s heading down the lab, right where Donald said he and Douglas will be, and just the act of standing still makes her feel like she will explode. Her husband didn’t give much information over the phone. All he said was that she needed to get back home, something happened, Chase was hurt, and Leo was kidnapped.

Her mind keeps zeroing in on those things: Leo kidnapped, Chase hurt.

She feels like she would pass out with how lit her nerves are with these alarming developments.

She thinks she might be a bad person for thinking it, but she’s not as worried about Chase as she is with Leo. It’s probably because Donald said that Chase has been taken to some superhero hospital, a place where many are trained to treat the kind of injuries he sustained.

There’s some assurance that he’s in good hands.

But her baby. Her baby…

She marches into the lab as soon as the doors open. The whole floor is electric with activity and overwhelming worry. When she gets in, she finds her brother-in-law hunched over the cyberdesk, frowning as he’s lost in his own task.

Meanwhile, her husband looks at her from a conversation he’s having with a man who comes across as strikingly familiar. “Tasha,” says Donald, exhaustion heavy under his eyes. He smiles. “You’re here.”

“I came as fast as I can,” she says, eyeing the tall blond in the red suit.

“Tasha, this is Tecton. Tecton, this is my wife Tasha. Leo’s mother.”

Tecton nods, smiling. “How are you doing?”

Tasha only watches him. “I’ve seen you before. You look familiar.”

“Probably Leo’s comic books. He’s the same Tecton,” Donald explains. “He’s a superhero. Turns out, they’re all real.”

Tasha nods, still unconvinced. It’s then she notices the teenage girl in magenta. “Kylie, right? Or is it Kayla? Thunderstorm or something like that?”

“Close enough. I’m Skylar Storm, Mrs. Davenport,” Skylar says, holding out her hand. She frowns as Tasha shakes her hand. “You know who I am.”

A small smile breaks through Tasha’s features. “Leo got me one of those small plush toys of you from a comic con they went to last year. For my desk at work,” she admits. “He says he got you because you’re cool and cute.”

It stuns Skylar for a second before a grateful smile comes to her face.

“Do we have any news yet about Leo?” Tasha asks her husband.

“No,” says Donald. “We’ve tried several times to ping his location using his phone, but it’s not working. My suspicion is that it got fried when he was attacked.”

“He was attacked?”

Donald nods wearily. “A man came to the island pretending to be a representative, asking for the transponder. He found Chase, Chase led him to the transponder…” He sighs. “Chase shouldn’t have trusted him. The man had superpowers. He wreaked havoc in the island and hurt a lot of people. Plus, he stole my invention.”

“You’re going to have to stop blaming the kid, Donnie,” Douglas chimes in, still engaged in his hack. “If the security on the island had been tighter, he wouldn’t have been able to come in.”

“Chase should have known better than to let that guy in.”

“He’s 18.”

“Exactly! He’s 18!”

“Donald!” Tasha intervenes, fired up once again. “You can’t just blame everything on the kids every time! You have as much to do about this!”

Donald blinks, bewildered. “Why are you blaming me?”

“Because if you had put as much work into protecting the kids in the island, in protecting Leo, as much as you’d protected Adam, Bree, and Chase from Krane? We wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“It wasn’t just my fault!”

“Does it really matter whose it is? Chase is in the hospital, and my son is missing,” Tasha heatedly points out. “What’s pointing fingers going to do to undo those things?”

She sees that her husband’s mind turns with more things to say, with things to justify himself with. However, exhaustion stops him from engaging in a fight.

That, and she thinks a small part of him agrees with her point.

It comes back to her then that they have company. She glances at them, sees the wary expression on their faces, and sighs. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have seen that,” she tells the two. “I’m just scared, that’s all.”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Davenport,” Skylar says. “It’s understandable.”

“How many hours since?”

“17 and a half, on my last count,” Douglas reports.

Tasha nods thoughtfully. They have just a little over 30 hours left—which feels like both long enough and too short a time.

“We’ve been doing our best to track the man who took him, too,” Tecton says. “Unfortunately, he hasn’t used his powers since we last saw him so there are no infrared trails to follow, but as soon as he does, we’ll be able to locate him.”

“What about that thing that he stole? Can’t you track that?”

“We tried,” says Douglas. He casts a loaded glance at his older brother before adding, “It’s a prototype, so it didn’t have any tracker on it. It hasn’t been used either. This guy is laying low for some reason.”

That only worsens the dread Tasha feels. She thinks about her son, thinks back on anything useful he could have told her, but nothing. She sighs, burying her face in her palms. “This guy,” she starts but doesn’t know if she has the strength to finish. “This guy, is he… Is he known for hurting children?”

Tecton and Skylar exchange glances, and Tasha feels like her heart has sunk. “We still don’t know why he took your son,” Tecton says. “If he sees use in him, it’s very likely that he will keep him alive.”

“Did he say anything why he took Leo?”

Skylar hesitates at first, looking at Donald for permission to continue.

“Say it.”

“He…He said because he didn’t kill Chase, Leo…was the payment.”

The breath in her lungs leaves her. She’s reminded of the time Krane took the two of them and used them to pressure her husband. This new enemy has what he needs from them; it doesn’t make much sense for him to do what he did. Does he need him to keep them at bay, to stop them from coming any closer?

Maybe that’s what it is. He’s using Leo as pawn.

Still, it devastates her that she has no way of making sure her child is alright. She wants to cry, because thoughts of how he is and how horribly his captor must be treating him are scaring her. “Who’s this guy? What do we know about him?”

“Not much. He goes by The Incapacitator,” Tecton answers. “His abilities are all energy-based. Before this moment, all he’d done is antagonize superheroes so we don’t know how he got his abilities.” A frown furrows his brows. “Although, there was a rumor going around that what happened to Victor Krane was his handiwork.”

Donald frowns. Even Douglas stops what he’s doing out of intrigue. “What do you mean it’s him?” Donald asks.

“The League caught wind about what happened, and we looked at the details of it,” Tecton shares. “From the autopsy report, it seems like both he and his top soldier were offed by energy blasts. Those burns… We’re still doing a follow-up, of course, but—”

“No, no. That was S-2. Those burns are from him,” Douglas says. However, he’s beginning to doubt it. “Leo told me that’s who he saw.”

“If he’d seen that Incapacitator guy before…” Donald’s frown slowly clears as a thought occurs to him.

That makes Tasha even more nervous. “What?”

“Leo. He didn’t look that scared when he saw him.”

“Wait. You think they know each other?” Skylar asks as Donald hurries over to the cyberdesk.

“I don’t know. But he didn’t seem too scared.”

“So, what, is this an inside job?” Tecton asks.

“Leo would never help a bad person do something wrong,” Tasha tells the superhero.

“No, no. He won’t,” Donald says. “He wasn’t scared, but he seemed very upset that he was there.” After a few clicks, the surveillance from the quarters comes up on the screen. He points at it as the interaction between Leo and the supervillain plays. “Look. He doesn’t feel the need to get away from him. Even when I told him to run, he didn’t.”

“He does seem really angry,” Skylar observes.

“And disappointed,” Tecton adds. He crosses his arms. “How do they know each other?”

“Incapacitator threatened to hurt me, but Leo asked him not to,” Donald explains as the video plays further. He sighs, putting his hands on his hips. “He did offer to open up the case just so the guy won’t burn my eye out.”

“Maybe he did it to protect you,” Skylar offers.

“Maybe.”

“No, but look – he tried to hurt Leo, too,” Douglas points. “Why would he do that if they’re working with each other?”

“Yeah.”

“It just doesn’t make sense. Leo’s a good kid. Why would he take part in a heist?”

“Has he been acting strangely lately?” Tecton asks. “It’s not beyond Incapacitator to manipulate others, especially a teenager.”

Donald sighs when the answer comes. “He’s been very upset with me these past few months,” he says. “He’s angry that I didn’t hire him on as a staff member for the bionic academy. He said he thinks he’s earned the right to be one.”

“Do you think he’d go as far as helping a supervillain just to get that point across?”

Donald thinks about it a moment. Then, he shakes his head. “He will complain and sulk, but he would never go that far.”

Tasha gasps at the surveillance.

Seeing that they’d gotten to the part of Leo’s abduction, Donald hurriedly pauses the video then minimizes it. “I’m sorry, Tasha,” he says contritely. “You shouldn’t have seen that.”

“No, no, no. That guy…” She frowns. “Put it back up. I want to see his face.”

Though confused, Donald does as she’s asked.

Tasha stares at the image for a few more seconds. Then, she feels as if her legs had lost strength.

“What?”

It’s been a while, but – is it really him? “Joel. That guy. His name is Joel Jones.” She looks at her husband. “He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

For a moment, Donald only stares. Then, he chuckles. “And I thought my dating history was terrible,” he comments. “Really, Tasha. I would have never pegged you to be the kind of person to date a man with superpowers. A terrible one at that. You could’ve done better.”

“Mm,” Douglas eyes Donald dryly. “The kids and I have always thought the same about you.”

“No, no, you don’t understand!” Tasha tells them. She huffs, feeling like her world is tilting upside down even more. “I didn’t know any of these things about him. When I met him, I thought he was just some college student from a nearby university.”

“He’s been an active supervillain since he was a teenager,” says Tecton.

“Well, I didn’t know that,” Tasha says defensively. She sighs. She should have listened to her mother. “If I had known that, I wouldn’t have gone out with him.”

Douglas shrugs. “I mean, you don’t have to go out with him now.”

Tasha glares. “Yeah,” she says, “but he has our son.”

“Wait,” Donald says. “What?”

“You mean…”

Tasha nods. “This Incapacitator,” she tells them. “He’s Leo’s father.”

The room lies motionless for a painfully long moment. Then: “The guy who broke into my island is your ex?!” Donald shatters the silence.

“I didn’t even know he’s still around! Everything was going well with our relationship. We were going to get married during spring break in Las Vegas, and then he vanished,” Tasha recounts, simmering. “I lost contact with him the same year, and he’s never shown up since.”

“But he knows you have a son together,” Tecton asks.

“I told him the night before the wedding,” Tasha says. “He looked shocked and conflicted, but I didn’t think much of it because I was nervous about the whole thing, too.”

“Maybe it was him that eliminated the two bionics, then,” Skylar says to Tecton. “He probably knew Leo was in danger, so he took them out.”

“But how could he know where we were then? We were hiding,” Douglas says. The answer hits him immediately. “He was on his phone that afternoon. I told him several times to put it away because we might get tracked—”

“So he does have contact with Incapacitator,” Tecton says.

“I mean, I didn’t know he’d put out a hit on him like that.”

“Leo would never do that,” Tasha defends her son. “Look. I know it seems like he’s in on these things that his father did, but he’s a good kid. I worked hard to raise him as a good person. He would never be involved in murder or robbery willingly like you’re suggesting!”

“We’re not saying that he is,” Donald says.

“Yes, you are! Donald, how could you—” Her shoulders fall as defeat presses on her heavier and her eyes sting. “How could you all even suggest that Leo’s a bad guy? My son has risked his life so many times to protect his siblings and to protect our family. Even when other people are mean to him, he stayed a good kid.”

She slowly collapses to the floor, Donald attempting to catch her by the arm. At that point, the tears come. “He just wants to help people,” she says, wiping them with the back of her hand. “How could you just turn on him like this?”

For a second time, the room lies motionless—only this time, it’s weighed with remorse and sympathy.

Donald sits beside her, putting an arm around her. “I’m sorry, Tasha,” he says gently. “It did seem that way. I’m sorry. Leo’s not a bad kid, I know he isn’t.”

“You know he’s willing to die for any of us. How could you even agree that he’s in on this?”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Donald looks up at their guests, back at his brother, and then says, “We’re going to find him. It’s important to me that we bring him home. I believe you. Leo made that deal to save me.”

“I apologize, too, Mrs. Davenport,” Tecton says, sitting down to meet her eyes. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like he assisted him. I got carried away.”

Tasha frowns at Tecton, still offended by the things he insinuated. However, instead of becoming angrier the longer she looks at his face, she finds that a faded memory only becomes clearer. “I have seen you before.”

“Sorry?”

“Joel’s car. He was dropping me off after a date one night. When he stepped out, I looked through his glove compartment for a tissue, and—I saw a planner with your picture on it.”

“A planner?”

“It looked like a planner. There were dates in there, notes…” Tasha’s watery eyes narrow. “I remember seeing information about you and four other people. One of them even upset me. He has a picture of a blonde girl.”

“Blonde.” Tecton looks at Skylar. “Solar Flare?”

“He’s probably been keeping tabs on you guys since then,” Skylar suggests. “Isn’t it around that time that the League of Heroes was re-established?”

Tecton nods. “Is there anything else you remember, Mrs. Davenport?”

“Nothing much, except that he got upset when he saw I was looking through it.”

Tecton sighs. “That’s always been the way he operates. Most of the time, he tells us he’s still around by leaving destroyed sites or dead bodies. He’s very sneaky and really good at hiding.”

“So, what is he, some sort of superhero assassin?” Tasha asks.

Tecton shrugs, unsure himself.

“You guys were able to follow him to the island,” Donald notes.

“It’s because he struck somewhere else first.”

Donald nods, understanding. “One of my buildings.”

“He wanted that transponder.”

“There was something else,” says Tasha, lost in thought. “There was a picture of something. It was like a pyramid, with this marble-looking thing in the middle. That stayed on my mind awhile.”

“A pyramid?” Donald repeats.

Tasha nods.

Realization dawns on Skylar. “Oh no.” She looks at Tecton with dread. “The Arcturion.”

Tecton groans, getting up to his feet. “That power source has only ever been bad news.”

“What’s the Arcturion?” Douglas asks.

“Alien power source. Kills any human that touches it, drains any non-human of any abilities,” Skylar answers.

“Except this time he doesn’t have to touch it.” When others turn to him, Tecton says, “The energy transponder. He can draw infinite amounts of power with it. If he finds the Arcturion, he can transform into a living nightmare and actually turn earth into a graveyard for superheroes.”

“Great. Another guy bent on leveling all of us,” Skylar laments. “Once we get our hands on that Arcturion, we should really just football toss it into the sun.”

“That can be arranged.”

“I still don’t understand why he took Leo,” Douglas muses. “If all he needs is the transponder, why would he take him?”

Donald shrugs. “Spend some time?”

“Yeah, but why would he go as far as hurting him?” Douglas stares thoughtfully at the cyberdesk, his mind at work.

“What are you thinking?” Donald prompts.

“Something sinister,” Douglas says. He crosses his arms. “The good thing is, I don’t think he’s going to hurt the kid. The bad thing is, I think he’s going to hurt the kid.”

“What?” Tasha says.

“It’s all just suspicion for now, but I just don’t like the timing of everything,” Douglas says. “It’s mainly because of the transponder, but – everything’s aligned. I think this is the perfect moment he might have been waiting for.”

“Douglas, you’re the only one who’d been an evil genius here. None of us are following,” Donald says.

“Think about it,” Douglas says. “This guy had been waiting to bring down the superheroes for the longest time. He’s been collecting information regarding the top players in the business for as far back as, what, twenty or so years? But he’s never attacked. He’s also been keeping an eye on that, what is that, Arcturion?

“I think Tecton’s right. When he hits, he wants all the superheroes gone. He’s going big, and I think he’s going all out.”

“But like you said, Leo’s got nothing to do with this,” Tasha points out.

“Leo’s got everything to do with this,” Douglas says. “There’s nothing scarier than a person who’s got nothing to lose. If that’s Incapacitator, if he’s the kind who’s willing to die for his cause, it’s likely that he’ll do everything to get it done. And between the kids and him…” He shrugs somberly. “The choice is obvious.

“Leo’s not a bad person, Tasha. I believe that,” Douglas continues. “But you’re right: he loves us. He loves his family.”

“Family, including his father,” Tecton supplies as he starts to understand.

“Ever since the academy was founded, he’s been feeling betrayed. If he’s been talking to his dad, then his dad knows how much everything upsets him,” Douglas tells Tasha.

He pauses for a moment, debating whether he should bring up the next point. “When...Marcus was still around, I gave him this one order, in case something happens to me while we were acting on our plan: get the job done, however way you can.”

Tasha’s frown clears. “You don’t mean…”

“There might be a lot more to your ex’s plan than we initially thought,” Douglas confirms. “If he succeeds, the superheroes are wiped out. If he fails and dies by the superheroes’ hands while Leo’s watching—”

“We might force Leo to follow his footsteps,” Skylar supplies.

Douglas nods in confirmation. “It’s like that question, one versus the many. Who do we save?”

“This is not good. I hope you’re wrong,” Tecton tells Douglas. “Reports are that The Incapacitator turned into a villain after his parents were killed in front of him.”

“You said yourself he was manipulative,” says Douglas. “We have to get Leo out of there before he can plant any bad ideas into his head, before anything goes down.”

Tasha lets out a shuddered breath. What upsets her more than the possibility of her son being emotionally manipulated is the fact that there’s a base for her ex to build on.

Douglas said he’s been feeling upset. How come she didn’t know? She frequently asked how he was doing whenever she called, and all he had ever said was that things were fine. Had her focus been so off that she didn’t recognize it? Her brother-in-law knows more about her child than she did. How did it get to that point?

“We’ll do our best to gather more information,” Tecton tells the family, getting back to his feet. “I’ll see if the League has something on Incapacitator. I’ll check the archives.”

“I’ll double check with Horace, too, and see if there’s anything he remembers hearing from people who’s encountered him,” Skylar says.

Donald nods. “Please update us as soon as you hear something.”

Tecton nods. “Mrs. Davenport, Mr. Davenport,” he nods to Tasha then Douglas. After Skylar does the same, both of them exit through the garage.

Once they’re gone, Tasha releases a weary breath.

“Are you okay? I know this isn’t something to come home to,” her husband asks her softly.

Tasha shakes her head. “I want to see the kids, Donald. I don’t like them being so far away from us. Where are they?”

“In Philadelphia, but I’ve fixed the Davenporter. It’s fully operational. If we head out to Davenport Industries now,” Donald consults his watch, “we’d be at the hospital in probably 40 minutes.”

“You guys should go. The kids need you,” Douglas agrees. “Adam texted me not too long ago, told me Chase hasn’t come to yet. I think he and Bree are getting a bit too shaken up by this.”

“What about the search?”

“What about it? I’m here,” Douglas says. As Donald helps Tasha up, he says, “There’s only one thing we can do on our end, and I can do it alone. Tasha, I know you don’t feel right about it, but I have to access the record of Leo’s text messages. His phone is out, but I might be able to ping his dad’s. All I need is a number.”

Douglas is right: she doesn’t feel right about it. If Leo finds out, he might think that none of them trusted him.

Still, it’s the only way to save him from his father right now. “Fine. Do whatever you need to do,” she says. “Just make sure Leo never finds out.”

“Evil genius here. I know how to cover my tracks,” Douglas says as he begins the work through the cyberdesk.

“You ready?” Donald asks.

“Wait. Maybe we should pack up some clothes for the children. Maybe bring some toiletries, too. Bree will only use one specific brand of toothbrush, and Chase needs his eye drops when he wakes up.”

An appreciative smile slowly stretches across Donald’s face. “I’ll get clothes for Adam and Chase, and you get Bree’s things and what you think the kids will also need.”

“We should pack up things for us, too.”

Donald nods.

“Meet you back here in 15?”

“Okay.”

At that, Tasha parts from her husband.

“Hey, honey?” Donald smiles when she looks back at him. “It’s all going to be okay. Chase and Leo will come home.”

Tasha only stares a while, processing everything. Then, she forces a smile to her face – a form of thanks.

Once he goes, she leaves for the elevator.

It’s all going to be okay. Chase and Leo will come home, the words ring in her head.

However, only one thing echoes back: Yes – but will they be the same?

#Lab Rats #Mighty Med #chapter six #Noble Intentions #Tasha Davenport #Donald Davenport #Douglas Davenport #Tecton (Mighty Med)#Skylar Storm #The Incapacitator

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fandom-imagines-stories · 5 years ago

Text

Halloween Heist

Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 3229

Summary: You use your sleuthing skills to track a string of robberies in your neighborhood. Enlisting in the help of your boyfriend- and secret superhero- Peter Parker, the two of you discover a plot to attack a charity ball full of New York’s richest on Halloween night.

Notes: I am so so so sorry that this is so late. I really wanted to get this out on Halloween, but a lot was going on in my life and I just couldn’t write. I’m really hoping to get some Christmas imagines out to make up for it! (P.S., I couldn’t find if Pepper change her name to Stark, but I went ahead and put that in)

You anxiously watched the clock, the seconds ticking by painfully slow as your teacher droned on. You sprung up before the bell even had time to ring and bolted out the door. The halls filled with students eager to go home for the weekend- more so than most. Tomorrow was Halloween.

“Woah, where’s the fire?” A voice behind you asked with amusement, fingers lacing through yours. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and showed him the article you were reading.

“There was another robbery this afternoon. This one was at the jewelry store down the block from my dad’s apartment.” You pulled him down the hall, weaving in between students and making your way towards the door. “They’ve escalated their targets.”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” A voice whispered from behind the two of you. He was holding his arm over your head and made a stabbing motion. The boy took off the mask and grinned.

“Hey man.” Peter greeted nervously. Robbie gave Peter a dirty look before turning a creepy stalker smile on you. “I heard that you’ve been looking into those missing backpack cases with the security team-”

“I really can’t talk now, Robbie. I’ll see you on Monday.” You waved him off and Peter wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“He gives me the creeps.” Peter shuttered. You shrugged.

“He’s harmless.” Robbie was one of the kids that grew up during the Blip. He’d always had a crush on you when he was a kid, but now he was your age and he wouldn’t leave you alone, even though he knew you and Peter were together. You weren’t worried about him, though. You had bigger fish to fry.

You took the subway back to your neighborhood. You loved the rattling cars and the silent agreement between occupants not to make eye contact. Peter thought it was too crowded, but it was your favorite time to observe the people around you. From the man drumming on the railing to the woman hiding a cat in her sweatshirt, you found every person fascinating.

Once your feet once again hit the pavement, you quickly found the scene of the crime. The front window was shattered and cases of jewelry had been ransacked. You took a step closer, but the hand holding yours pulled you back.

“Y/N, I really think you should leave this kind of thing to me.” Peter suggested. It’s not that he thought you weren’t capable of taking care of yourself, but after everything he’d been through that year… to say he worried was an understatement.

“I’ve been tracking these guys for months, Peter. Once we find them, you can kick their asses with those spidey powers, deal?” You gave him a quick kiss before sneaking across the street to get a better look. If your suspicions were correct, they would have left their calling card in the center of the store. With no officers in sight, you climbed through the window, your eyes scanning the ground for the little white note.

“What are you doing? Someone could see us!” Peter exclaimed.

“Shhhh.” You hissed, finally spotting the paper. You pulled a glove out of your backpack and picked it up.

“Why do you even have those?”

“Peter.” You shot him a look and he remained quiet while you read the note. “Oh my God.” Each time they left a calling card, they left some kind of hint of where their next hit was going to be, but it was never enough for the local police to figure it out before it happened. But looking at the photograph, information clicked inside your brain, giving you every clue. The police wouldn’t have made the connection, but they’d made the note for you, waiting for you to come and find them.

“What is it?” Peter asked, trying to look over your shoulder and keep an eye on the door.

“It’s me.” You lifted up the photograph of you standing in front of a large ballroom, dressed in a princess gown your mother had made you wear for Halloween when you were eight. “I know where they’ll be next.”

The annual Halloween Gala was hosted and attended by New York’s elite. This year was particularly important since it was being held in honor of the late Tony Stark. Peter had even been invited by Pepper as a special guest. You knew how important it was to him.

“Have these guys killed anyone?” Peter asked anxiously, although he knew the answer. He just didn’t want to hear it.

“Not at their latest job.” You answered, running a hand down your face. “But their second robbery, the one at the bank in Manhattan, they killed one of the tellers.” Peter passed back and forth across your room, the base of all your sleuthing.

“I have to stop them.” His stammered. Whenever he started to freak out, his voice was slightly higher than usual. “Mrs. Stark is going to be there and I can’t let anything happen to her-”

“Okay, first of all, I’m pretty sure that Rescue is going to be just fine,” You gave him a reassuring smile and stood in front of him to make him stop moving, “And secondly, we’re going to stop them.” He made a face.

“You aren’t coming. It’s too dangerous.” You raised your eyebrows.

“You’re kidding, right?” You scoffed. “I’m so not missing this. You were taking me as a plus one anyway.” He shook his head.

“They used your picture as the clue. They obviously have you as a target.”

“Which is exactly why I need to be there.” You argued. You were not about to let him go all lone hero on you now. “I’m going and not even Spider-Man is going to stop me.” He gave you the look with his big brown eyes, sad and soft. You shouldn’t have snapped at him. “Peter…” You sighed, putting a hand on his arm when he moved to leave. “I’m sorry. I just can’t let this go until those guys are put away.” After a moment, he put his hand on top of yours, pulling it up to his lips.

“I know.” He held your hand against his cheek and neither of you said anything for a while. You’d both been through a lot since you came back from wherever the hell you went for five years, Peter especially. Maybe busting things bastards was just a way of reminding yourself that you were back. That you wouldn’t be snapped away again.

“Why don’t we watch a movie?” You suggested. “Since we’ll be spending Halloween drinking mocktails and catching bad guys.” He shot you a look. “What?”

“You always want to watch scary movies though,” He whined.

“It’s Halloween, dummy.” You giggled. “Of course we’re watching a scary movie.” You reached for your movie shelf, your hand wavering over a few of your horror favorites like Halloween and Scream. Peter pulled you back.

“Why can’t we watch a fun Halloween movie? Like Hocus Pocus?”

“Because we’ve already watched it five times this month.” You laughed, putting Nightmare on Elm Street in the DVD player. “Don’t worry,” You grinned, “I’ll protect you.” You pulled his lips to yours and turned off the lights. Neither of you paid much attention to the movie anyway.

The extravagant white dress billowed around you as you got out of the car. Once Pepper knew that you were coming with Peter, she helped you pick your costumes and she insisted on paying for them. Since it was a formal event, you decided on Christine and The Phantom from your favorite musical The Phantom of the Opera. Pepper didn’t realize that you would be pursuing a group of ruthless bank robbers in a $3,000 dollar ball gown. Peter stood in the hotel lobby, his pearly white mask glistening in the light of the chandelier. He was wearing a tux with a long black cape, concealing his Spider-Man suit underneath.

“Wow.” He said breathlessly, eyes wide as they traveled over the shimmering fabric. “You look… wow.” You couldn’t help but smile and you kissed the cheek that wasn’t covered by the mask. You laced your arm through his and a pair of hotel employees dressed as knights opened the doors to the ballroom.

It was like a scene from a movie. There were red banners lining the walls and meticulously detailed carved pumpkins placed on every step of the long, dramatic staircase. Costumes ranged from Medusa to King Arthur. Somewhere in the bustle of people whose shoes cost more than your whole apartment stood a familiar face framed with strawberry blond hair. Pepper’s dress was a backless, silky blue gown.

“You two look incredible.” She beamed, pulling you into a hug.

“So do you.” You replied, trying to keep your jaw from dropping.

“Oh this?” Her lips tugged up into a small smile. “I found it in an old box… I’m surprised it still fits.” There was a look in her eye that told you more than she could have said.

“You look really really great, Mrs. Stark.” Peter chimed in. She put a hand on his arm.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Pepper?” The band had already begun to play some classic Halloween tunes, but there was still no sign of the robbers.

“We look pretty suspicious just standing here.” Peter observed and spun you outwards, causing you to laugh. “We might as well dance.” The band started to play “I Put a Spell On You” and the two of you jived along, laughing at each other’s strange dancing techniques. You almost forgot why you were there.

A sharp cracking sound sent Peter’s body rigid. You look up to see the chandelier crashing down towards you, shards of glass reflecting your screaming face as Peter grabbed you, ducking out of the way just in time. The entire crowd froze, gasps and screams filling the air. All other light sources dimmed and a projection appeared on the far wall.

“Now that we have your attention,” A voice boomed. A man appeared on the projection. His face was hidden with a cheap, plastic Iron Man mask. You saw Peter’s expression harden. Through the dark, you could see Pepper clutch the metallic necklace around her neck. “I would like to welcome you all to the first-ever Halloween auction. All the proceeds will be going to, well, me.” The crowd made a break for the doors, but everyone was locked with a blinking device. “Trying to leave would not end well for any of us.” The masked man laughed.

“What do you want?” Some frightened woman yelled.

“I want her.” His voice dropped to a growl. A look of confusion went around the room. No one knew what he meant but you and Peter. He grabbed your hand. “All of this is for you.”

“What is he talking about?” Peter whispered. You had no idea.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” The camera shifted, revealing two of the other thieves, both wearing the same plastic masks. They stepped to the side and Pepper let out a cry.

“Morgan!” She shrieked, pushing her way to the front of the room. The little girl sat in a metal chair, handcuffs cuffing her ankle to one of the bars. You and Peter frantically raced to join Pepper at the front. “Leave her alone!”

“A single door has been left open. Only she will go through it. If anyone else tries to leave, we’ll level the building.” The projection shut of and the room went into a panic. Everyone was trying to figure out what he meant. Others called the police. But you knew that Morgan would be dead before they got here if you didn’t do something. You stepped forward, but you didn't get very far.

"What are you doing?" Peter hissed, keeping your hand locked in his.

"It's Morgan." You said, your determination overshadowed by your fear. Pepper shook her head, but you knew she would do anything for her daughter. You slowly slipped your hand out of Peter’s and pushed through the open door.

The hallway was dark except for a red light placed beside the elevator. Old Halloween decorations littered your path, from broken plastic skeletons to styrofoam gravestones. You pushed the button on the elevator and tried not to scream when a bloody mask mounted on the wall greeted you. This time it was Spider-Man.

“Come to the roof.” The same morphed voice boomed through the elevator speakers. You shakily pressed the button. You felt ridiculous, standing there in that gigantic dress as the elevator took you up to meet your fate. The floor numbers ticked by above your head until they reached the roof.

It was one of those hotels that had a pool overlooking the city and the water glistened in the moonlight.

“Y/N?” A small voice called out to you from across the pool.

“Morgan.” You stepped out of the elevator and heard the click. You kept your head down as a bucket poured the warm red liquid splattered over you. Morgan started to cry.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” The whisper was too close to your face and you jumped away. You tried to keep a tough face and faked a confident smirk.

“You’re mixing your references. The blood pouring is from Carrie.” Just looking at Iron Man’s face made your heart rate pick up. “I have to applaud your execution though.”

“All of this has been for you.” He shrugged, the voice changer in his mask turning off. You knew that voice. What’s your favorite scary movie?

You stumbled back, trying to put as much distance between you and him as possible while trying to get closer to Morgan.

“Robbie?”

“I gave you quite the story to chase, didn’t I?” His eyes were wide with a wild excitement that terrified. “All I had to do was pay a couple of thugs to help me rob a few places and I had you chasing after me.”

“All of those robberies, that person you killed…” You gulped, “That was for me?” He nodded and laughed, and your heart raced even more. You had to keep your mind focused. You had to get Morgan out of there. “W-why did you take her?”

“I had to make sure that you would come alone… Spider-man.” He had a giant grin on his face, as if he had won a prize. This took you back.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. I know your secret.” He grabbed a piece of fabric from his pocket. “I found this in your bag a couple of months ago.” It was a torn piece of Peter’s suit that you had from when he came to your apartment after a fight with a couple of street thugs. He was okay, but his suit had been cut in a few places. How could you have been so stupid as to leave it in your backpack?

The pig’s blood was starting to irritate your skin and Morgan was getting more restless. You needed to keep him away from her.

“Alright, so you know.” You stood up straighter, trying to seem convincing while you kept him on the opposite side of Morgan. “Why go through all of this?”

“Because we could make the ultimate team!” He exclaimed as if it was obvious. “And you would finally ditch that creep Peter Parker and be with someone of your own standard.”

“So you decided to start robbing banks and jewelry stores? And kidnap Tony Stark’s daughter?” You scoffed.

“It was the only way to get you here tonight.” He shrugged with an eerily happy sigh. “And now we can say that we caught the bad guys together. That they had you on the ropes, but a new hero, The Night Owl appeared just in time.” He spoke as if he were reading a comic book.

“Not gonna lie, Night Owl is a terrible superhero name.” A voice said from above you. Robbie looked up just as the real Spider-Man’s foot nailed him in the face. Robbie barely had time to recover before he pushed him back into the pool. Peter turned to you. “Are you okay?” He held out his hand and you tried to wipe the blood off your hands before you took it.

“How did you get out?” You wondered as the two of you rushed over to Morgan.

“Happy showed up with the bomb squad.” He explained, his voice turning soft as he spoke to Morgan. “Did the bad guys hurt you?” He asked, snapping off the handcuffs. She jumped into his arms.

“I’m okay.” She answered. He picked her up, but when you turned around, a group of three more men in masks stood in front of you, a furious, and wet, Robbie standing with them.

“You don’t get to ruin my plans yet!” He shrieked.

“There’s nowhere to go, Robbie.” Peter warned. “The cops are on their way up now.” He held Morgan close, keeping her head down.

“I was so convinced that it was you, Y/N.” Robbie seemed to pretend that Spider-Man wasn’t there. “But that doesn’t matter. All we have to do is get rid of the real one.” The three men started to move towards you and Robbie pulled out a gun. If he missed Peter, he would hit Morgan.

“Stop it.” You ordered, putting yourself in front of her. “You can’t be a hero after being a villain Robbie.”

“Every hero is someone else’s villain, Y/N.” He shrugged. The three thugs drew nearer and Peter gently set Morgan down behind him, preparing to fight. They attacked all at once, one taking your arms and shoving you back and the other two going after Peter. As you stumbled back, your foot caught on your dress. In a whirlwind of red stained fabric, you toppled over the edge of the roof.

“Y/N!” Peter shouted, trying to fight off the two men to get to you, but it was too late. Morgan started to cry again.

“You’ve ruined everything!” Robbie shouted. “Grab the girl! We can still make something of this disaster.” But as one of the men reached for Morgan, the whooshing sound of propulsors cause him to freeze.

“Don’t. Touch. My. Daughter.” Rescue soared up to the roof, her mask lifting to show Pepper’s seething face. In her metal-clad arms, was you.

“Hell man, I’m not dealing with two superheroes.” The man exclaimed, scurrying off, quickly followed by the other two. Pepper landed, putting you back on your feet and took her daughter into her safe arms.

“Oh my god.” Peter swept you up as quickly as you’d been put down. “I thought- when you- I didn’t… don’t ever go into scary doorways alone ever again.”

“Wait a second,” Robbie muttered. “You’re cheating on Peter with Spider-man?” The police burst through the doors before he could make any further revelations. He called out for you as they dragged him away, but you kept your face buried in Peter’s chest, your stomach still doing somersaults from the fall. He lifted up your chin to look at him, taking off his mask once the coast was clear.

“Hey,” His voice was calming and his smile turned to boyish excitement. “Let’s go get some candy.”

#halloween in november #spiderman #marvel imagines #peter parker x reader #tom holland #pepper potts #morgan stark #better late than never i guess

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loverspersonas · 5 years ago

Text

liability | i

pairing: ot7? x reader

genre: spy au, grisha reader, angst, drama, fluff

length: 2k

summary: She’s known as the Wraith, a destructive member of a notorious intelligence organization. When a mission goes wrong, she runs into a rival group, BTS, and is offered a choice that could change her whole life.

↳series masterlist

The mission was simple.

It was a matter of getting into the casino and then getting out. What happened in between those two was the tricky part. But you had been doing this for a while now. Years and years of training and mastering your powers had brought you here. Had made you what you were now.

“Wraith.”

Your hand touched the comms unit in your right ear, activating your mic. “What?”

“Do you have eyes on your target?”

“Yes. At the bar, next to two blonde women.”

Of course, the missions did have their dry parts. A lot of the time, your job was to watch out for potential threats that could compromise them while the others, the more superior members, handled the rest. You did get some credit though. You’d gotten them into the place through security without the detectors and security catching their weapons. It was just a simple mental manipulation, and jamming the detector’s signals when no one was looking.

“Excuse me, darling.” You turned to see the man who’d approached you near the balcony railing. He was quite young and wore an overpriced, pristine suit like most of the men there, a glass of champagne in one hand. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Professionalism was crucial on a mission, so no matter how annoyed you could get, you managed to smile at him, a signature one you’d honed over the years that could charm strangers to do whatever you wanted. “No, thank you. I’m actually waiting for someone.”

He looked around briefly, smirking slightly. “I don’t see anyone.”

People like this really made you question if you had an anger problem. Refraining from rolling your eyes, you said, “Well, they’re here. Making sure their casino is running smoothly and there are no uninvited guests here tonight, because after all… this is an exclusive event. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Lee?”

The colour drained from his face slowly. “How did you—“

“You’re asking the wrong questions,” you said, taking his champagne. “What would happen to you if Minho found out you were here?”

He stuttered. “You wouldn’t—“

“Oh, I would.” You sipped the drink and sighed. “Unless of course… you tell me where they’re taking the new ashe shipments.”

“What?”

“The. Ashe. Ship. Ments,” you repeated, emphasizing each syllable. “Ashe, the most widely used, addictive drug in the country right now? Oh, and don’t play dumb. I really don’t have time for that.”

He clenched his jaw. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You stared at him for a long moment, focusing your mind to find the neurones working in his head. You raised your hand, its motion reflecting the manipulation you were making. “Oh, but you do.”

He blinked as something shifted in his mind. “On the fifth floor,” he said automatically. “The large room near the back that’s being guarded.”

“Good,” you said, satisfied. You passed the glass back to him. “You can go now. Have a few more drinks.”

Confusion passed over his face shortly before he turned and wandered off towards the bar. You turned on your heel, stumbling suddenly. Your hand shot out to grab the railing. “Fuck,” you muttered, dizziness washing over you. Trying to manipulate the human mind was difficult enough as it was and you’d already done it once that night when you had to go through security. And that had been more than one person. Hopefully, you hadn’t exerted too much of yourself.

“Wraith. Do you copy?”

You sighed and touched your in-ear comms. “I’m here.”

“Minho’s men are heading to the basement.”

“Lee says they’re keeping the ashe on the fifth floor. I’m heading there right now.”

“You can’t go by yourself.”

You rolled your eyes. The fact that you had these rare abilities made your team skeptical of trusting you. Even the ones that came close to trusting you had to draw the line somewhere. It never mattered how long you’d been with GOT7. You were like a time bomb to them; you could go off at any moment. That explained the silver collar around your neck that could’ve almost been jewellery. But you knew better. “I don’t need to be babysat.”

“This wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Wasn’t it? And is that what JB told you?” The silence that came after only confirmed that you were right. “We came for the ashe. I’m getting the shipments before someone else does.”

“Fine. I’ll send a team to you for backup. You know the time limit. Try not to get killed.”

You disabled your comms and entered the elevator, hitting the fifth floor button and then the close button. Unfortunately for you, just before the doors slid shut, someone managed to slide into the elevator.

He let out a breath, like he’d been running. “That was a close one.”

You made a noncommittal sound of agreement without paying him much attention. Great, you thought. Just what you needed. Another delay in getting your job done.

“You don’t seem so familiar.”

You raised a brow, watching the number start to climb from the ground floor. “And why would I?”

“I’ve been to this event many times before,” he said as a matter of fact. “I’ve met almost everyone, learned to recognize faces… but I haven’t seen you before. I think I would have remembered you.”

You managed to stay calm. It was a simple observation; he might’ve not been insinuating anything else. “I’m just someone’s plus one.”

“Right, of course. Would that someone be Lee, or Minho?” Your eyes snapped to him while he stood there, casually blowing your cover as though he was asking what the weather was like. “Or maybe someone from GOT7?”

He finally turned his head and your breath nearly caught in your throat, even more so since the revelation had almost left you winded. His hair was styled as a mullet, long and black and fell past his forehead, contrasting with the light gray hue of his irises. He could’ve been any of the guests in the main hall, dressing like them and talking like them, but you should’ve known by now that nothing was always what they appeared to be.

Before you could utter a word, there was a ding and the doors opened. You checked the screen. Third floor. A taller, older man with stern features stepped inside to stand in between you and the gray eyed boy. You felt like the tension in the small area only got thicker, making your skin heat up. The doors closed and you dared to glance at the boy again, only to find that he was already looking your way.

It should’ve made you uncomfortable. It should’ve sent you into panic, because he knew you weren’t supposed to be there. He knew what you were up to. But he wasn’t watching you out of suspicion. Slowly, his gaze shifted to the man in front. Unable to contain your curiosity, you tried to see what had caught his attention. But all you saw was a flash of metal before the man lunged at you with a knife.

You cried out in surprise, stumbling back into the elevator wall. A second later, you realized the knife never touched you. When you opened your eyes, the gray eyed boy was right in front you, his hand grasping the man’s arm that held the knife inches away from your throat.

You only exhaled when the fight moved away from you and to your relief, the elevator reached the fifth floor. You didn’t waste a second to dash out of there, moving down the hall as fast as your heels would allow you to. Maybe you were compromised. But you could still get to the ashe in time.

“Wraith, come in.” The comms unit crackled. “We have a bit of an issue.”

“You don’t say,” you replied sarcastically. “Some guy just tried to knife me.”

“Do you know who he was?”

“No, he was too busy trying to kill me. I’ll make sure to ask next time though.”

“Shit. You know what this means, don’t you?”

You didn’t speak right away, dread filling the silence. “We’re not the only ones who came for the ashe.” There was another team in the game. Your mind flashed back to the boy from the elevator. Whose team was he on? And more importantly, why had he saved your life?

An alarm tore through the hall, red lights blinking around you. It was just seconds later when you heard the chatter, people getting confused and surprised by the sirens. No doubt security would arrive and ask all the guests to leave the premises. The perfect opportunity for someone to slip through security and find the drugs.

“Wraith, are you there?”

“I’m here,” you said then made a split second decision. “Keep Minho’s men and the others away from the fifth floor. I can get the shipments.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Like JB said. Then I’ll make sure no one can.”

You didn’t wait for a response as you turned off your comms unit and sped down the hall, lifting the skirts of your long midnight blue gown so you wouldn’t trip. The costume was always a large part of the mission, so no matter how much you disliked dressing like a doll, sometimes it was necessary.

There were two men up ahead in black suits, blocking one of the doors. It had to be where the shipments were being held. You didn’t bother trying to hide. As soon as they noticed you coming towards them and reached for their weapons, you raised your hands, and they went flying back to the hit the wall. One of them managed to find their gun but before he could fire at you, you used your power to twist his arm until his bones cracked and he screamed. With another motion of your fingers, the door flew open.

You weren’t surprised to see all the boxes and crates stacked around the room, all with the familiar logo for the company EXO. And inside the boxes, you wouldn’t have been surprised to see packs of the ashe. What did surprise you was the fact that you weren’t the only person in the room.

“Who are you?” one of the boys asked. He had white-blond hair while the other was a brunette but they were both surprisingly young, probably around your own age. Clad in black suits too, they were holding guns that were uncertainly trained on you. And you wondered once again, what team were they playing on?

There was no more time for them to ask you questions or further exchange puzzled looks, because that was when more people stormed into the room, yelling at all of you and holding up their guns. The two boys didn’t waste a second to defend themselves against the newcomers and once again, you were lost, not knowing who was on what team. Was your team still there?

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone charging in your direction and instinctively, you raised your hand to block them. The man dropped to his knees, blood dripping from his nose. At the same time, another swung at you with his fist. You managed to dodge him just in time, and used your powers to slow down his pulse until he collapsed.

The sound of your heartbeat was beginning to overwhelm you along with the noise from the gunshots and the fighting. Your breaths were heavy now, sweat starting to form at your hairline. The ashe was still here. Everyone else was too busy fighting each other. You could still make it out of there.

Right when you took a step forward, your body froze for a fraction of a second before you began convulsing. It was like electric shocks were constantly being sent through your body, lighting each of your nerves on fire. Only dimly aware of the fighting that soon was eventually dying down, you released a breath as the pain came to a stop.

“Jimin, don’t,” you heard someone warn. “I know her.”

“She came for the drugs, Taehyung. She’s probably with them.”

There was a light touch on your shoulder and you tried to open your eyes from where you were lying on the floor. A pair of familiar gray eyes looked down at you and it was strange how soft them seemed, despite the ebbing pain and dizziness in your head that was trying to overtake your senses.

“Are you okay?” His face was blurred and his voice distorted like looking through an old camera lens.

You tried to say something in return but soon, everything faded to black.

chapter ii

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comicsnsuch · 5 years ago

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Wildstorm Halloween Trilogy of Terror! (1997)

This review is going to be about the Wildstorm Halloween Trilogy of Terror published in 1997 by Image Comics, and just read moments ago by me, in March 2020.

I picked this one up after finding a Sleeper Season One TPB (by Brubaker and Phillips) in my collection and reminiscing about how good Wildstorm was at one point. So I went online, looked up some Wildstorm comics, opened a tab with this one and thought to myself “I’ve been known to enjoy Gen 13 from time to time and this cover looks cool, let’s roll the dice!”

Spoiler Alert! Nothing as cool as the scene depicted on the cover happens in the book, and the Lovecraftian monster lurking behind our heroes never appears.

In case you never knew or forgot, Wildstorm was the branch of Image Comics that Jim Lee was in charge of and responsible for all the titles he created and oversaw like WildC.A.Ts (later just Wildcats), Gen 13, Stormwatch (later the Authority) and Deathblow. Also Wetworks apparently, which was created by Whilce Portacio, another of the original Image Comics founders.

This special has three different stories by three different creative teams. Each story shares a common thread, the villain of each story is a man called Crandall or Camatoz, a “bat god zombie abomination”, that Crandall resurrects in the first story.

The the “bat god zombie abomination”, Camatoz, in case you were wondering

The first story of the trilogy contained in this issue stars Team 7, an elite military strikeforce whose members go on to be major players in the Wildstorm universe including Michael Cray (Deathblow), Cole Cash (Grifter), John Lynch (Gen 13), Alex Fairchild (father of Gen 13’s Caitlin Fairchild), Jackson Dane (Wetworks) etc. This story takes place in the past and sees Team 7 covertly travelling into Mexico to put down a rebel uprising calling itself the Nueva Mayapan. Crandall is working with this group but only to further his own goal, resurrecting the “bat god zombie abomination”, Camatoz. Which he does, but is swiftly defeated by Team 7.

This story was written by Christopher Golden with art by Ed Benes. The story felt a bit disjointed due to the narration, dialogue and art not quite syncing up.

For example Team 7 defeats the “bat god zombie abomination”, Camatoz using explosives to cause a cave in burying the “bat god zombie abomination”, Camatoz, but we never see the explosives planted! The dialogue is on par with a cheesy action movie and the narration is too weighty and self serious causing issues with the tone of the story.

Look at how well drawn that bandoleer of bullets is! Go Benes go!

Like a lot of Image Comics from this era there's no shortage of cool pictures, but they often come at the cost of the story and the more meat and potatoes panels telling important beats of the story.

The middle story in the trilogy stars Gen 13 and takes place in the present, of 1997.

For what it’s worth this is the only story that takes place on Halloween, 1997.

The Gen 13 kids dress up and take part in Halloween festivities while the other stories simply contain horror elements, like vampires and the undead. So those bring the “Terror” element from the title, while this one brings the “Halloween”.

Not to worry, this one also has the “bat god zombie abomination”, Camatoz, everyone’s favorite new character from this issue, for a few panels.

Plus Grunge transmutes himself into blood, so there’s that.

Here’s that

This story opens on John Lynch and Alex Fairchild, both formerly of Team 7 and making appearances in the previous story, scaring some trick or treaters visiting the Gen 13 house. It also provides my favorite panel from this entry:

�� Kudos Mr. Odagawa!

The Gen 13 kids have received an invite to a nightclub for a Halloween party. Bobby (Burnout) is nice enough to let us know the regulars of this club file their teeth into fangs. I’m sure this outing is going to go fine.

Turns out I was wrong, Caitlin (Fairchild) and Bobby are kidnapped by the club owners and are going to be used as a sacrifice to summon the “bat god zombie abomination”, Camatoz! Crandall is nowhere to be found in this installment. Using their powers (and teamwork) the other members of Gen 13 are able to rescue Fairchild and Burnout. After the kids return home Lynch and Fairchild, Sr, find are shocked to find a flyer for the evening’s festivities that basically spells out the whole event was to try to resurrect “bat god zombie abomination”, Camatoz.

This story flows nicely from the first, letting us know the horror of the “bat god zombie abomination”, Camatoz, is still a problem for the Wildstorm U, but in hindsight other than having Gen 13 in the issue to boost sales, this story adds nothing to the trilogy of terror. Which as you know, years later got me to pick up this issue. Good job Wildstorm marketing team!

Ryan Odagawa handles the art for this chapter and draws it in a J. Scott Campbell light manner. Writer Peter Gutierrez does a good job of aping the style and tone of the regular Gen 13 series, lots of slang that someone probably used on MTV once and a loose Scooby Doo-ish plot that shows off the Gen 13 kids doing trendy things and being moody.

Not bad, but not an essential entry in this trilogy of terror.

The final entry stars Wetworks and is written by Tom Sniegoski and Chris Warner and it’s the best one of the three. It feels like a direct sequel to the first story, with similar elements, making the second entry feel disposable.

This story also takes place in the present of 1997, abandoning the advancement of time element that happened between the last two stories. So no cool Wildstorm of the future story here, unfortunately.

We find the Wetworks team travelling to the arctic to stop Crandall, the dude working with the Nueva Mayapan in the first story, now working with the Vampire Nation (something I imagine readers would be more familiar with if they were reading the Wetworks title at the time) to prevent him from destroying a virus that can kill the undead.

There’s a quick flashback in the opening panels of this story of an ancient viking warrior perishing in battle. This is important because when Dane, from Team 7 again in the first story, fights Crandall he gets knocked into a cave or something and finds this warrior’s axe. The spirit of the warrior possesses Dane and causes his golden symbiote to grow a beard and don a viking helmet.

Does it get any better than this? Don’t let me know if does!

Wetworks takes care of the Vampire Nation and Dane defeats Crandall. No idea what happens to the virus they came to protect or the bat god zombie abomination, Camatoz that was part of the connective tissue for the first two stories because it’s not even mentioned here.

Chris Warner’s artwork was a pleasure to read and his storytelling was the best out of the three artists working on this issue. Yes, some of the dialogue was cheesy action movie, but the fact that the art was so on point helped to elevate this entry above the rest. And to the credit of Tom Sniegoski, he keeps the cool coming giving Warner no shortage of cool stuff to draw and moves the plot along briskly.

So we’ve reached the end. What’s the verdict? “You sure wrote a lot about a twenty plus year old comic.” Well, besides that. Should you seek out your own copy of this book? No, probably not. If you’ve got some money to spare and want to read something that will leave no impact on you, you could do worse. On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the best, 1 being the worst, this is 4.5.

Until next time!

#imagecomics #jimlee #wildCATS #90s nostalgia #wetworks #comics #comicbooks #review #gen13 #halloween #comicart #xmen #batman #comicsnsuch

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kob131 · 5 years ago

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https://magicalhunterpaladin.tumblr.com/post/179157882878/you-want-to-talk-about-wasted-potential-lets

And just like ‘muh wasted potential’, you fundementally misunderstand the show’s goal.

Then Summer became pregnant with Qrow’s daughter, Ruby. Here the details get fuzzy, but the version of the story that makes the most sense to me is that the pregnancy caused Summer and Qrow’s relationship to break down. The two would have been unable to see each other for nine straight months; meanwhile, Tai would have stepped into the role of caretaker for Summer and eventual father figure for Ruby. Summer grew closer to Tai as her relationship with Qrow became increasingly strained, until the two finally broke up and Summer took up with Tai. Somewhere in the midst of this, Ruby was born, and the three parents agreed that Summer and Tai would assume the roles of mother and father to the two girls while Qrow would act as their uncle.

Does...does ‘oh you came pregnant so I’mma gonna break down this relationship’ sound like something Qrow OR Summer would do? This is on par with ‘Oh Aang didn’t give his kids enough attention’ in how contradictory the character is used. Qrow is basically defined by loyalty with how he fondly talks about his team, how vehemently he defended Ozpin, how betrayed he sounded when Raven used him and how broken he was by Ozpin’s betrayal. I don’t think Qrow would betray Summer or Ruby. And Summer? Doesn’t sound like the ‘I’mma keep this child’s parentage a secret’ type. Doesnn’t even make sense. Why would Taiyang care?

Summer and Tai have a few pleasant years together before Summer disappears. If Qrow hadn’t already become an alcoholic in response to the breakup and being unable to see or care for his own child, he becomes one now. -

Because a guy constantly watching people die, his family ditching him to go live with murderers and thieves and forced to research fucking SALEM wouldn’t be enough to justify his alcoholism alongside a dear friend dying?

This is really pushing things.

He’s lost the woman he loved, first because of his semblance and then because of other mysterious forces beyond his control.

Yeah, kind of makes you want to see him dead. That’s a pretty big issue for a show like RWBY.

Years of grief and loneliness follow as he waits for Yang and then Ruby to become old enough that they stand a fighting chance against whatever bad luck he drags along with him, at which point he throws himself headlong into their combat training.

Great, we’re also now erasing Taiyang from this since HE taught Yang, not Qrow. And you’re expecting me to think that Qrow would believe two untrained kids would stand a chance while the fully trained team leader didn’t? No, I’,m not buying that. Especially not from the woman who bitched that Yang shouldn’t have abandonment issues about Raven.

He loves both girls, but he and Ruby always shared a deeper bond. She takes after him in the way she dresses and even designs the same type of melee weapon for herself as the one he uses. Despite everything, their father/daughter connection still holds strong.

Several people have pointed out that Yang being torn up about her biological mom leaving when she was a baby doesn’t make a whole lot of sense since she never had the chance to get attached to Raven and she still had a loving and stable family with Summer and Tai, and I think that really gets at how the parental abandonment trope is supposed to work and why RWBY utterly failed at implementing it.-

Nuh uh, you already set a different standard.

But it’s too late for Qrow to turn back the clock on the person his grief made him into. He’s a drunk and a philanderer. He pushes everyone except the girls and Oz away - Oz, who’s too powerful to fall victim to the forces that cost Qrow his lover; Oz, who gives him a greater purpose than his lonely existence, even if it is as a pawn in questionable power schemes.

...

You JUST said Qrow threw himself into their training. For someone who bitches about RWBY;s writing, you sure suck at this.

And what of Qrow having a drinking problem? People can be functioning alcoholics you know.

Oh, and what part of Ozpin’s stuff a ‘questionable power scheme’? (You know, aside from ‘penis.’)

This is the version of Qrow that we could have had - a Qrow who was actually tragic and sympathetic and struggling to find his way after great loss. But the version of Qrow we got has almost no reason to be a womanizing alcoholic jackass. His entire drunkle schtick is rooted purely in self-pity. Now there’s a time and a place for a character like that, but it is not in the role of goofy, likeable hero that RWBY tries to play him as. And the more times passes since word of God declared that Qrow is not Ruby’s dad, he’s just like that, the more I wish Qrow would make like Sun and leave.

So basically this is a temper tantrum.

Okay then, let me tear into this stupidity-

A. Qrow is already tragic and sympathetic. As someone with depression, I’ve fallen into many of the same mental pitfalls as Qrow so my guess is you have no idea what you’re talking about. The man is a walking diaster area whose been stabbed in the back by his leader and sister while finding out his colleagues have all died. Pay attention.

B. WHERE exactly did we get ‘womanizer’ from? He made a comment about a woman’s skirt once to distract his niece and smiled at a waitress who FLIRTED WITH HIM. You don’t get to use memes the fandom took out of hand.

C. No shit, your version is also rooted in self pity. Your version is all about pitying himself to the point he broke down part of his relationship and ditched his kid while never telling her the truth. If anything, your version is WORSE because he’s basically a worse version of Taiyang (you know, that guy you hate.)

In fact D. This is basically Taiyang plus alcoholism. It even runs on an unsubtainated fucking meme. we don’t need another Taiyang.

E. how is Qrow a goofy likeable hero when he was portrayed as confrontational, rude, blunt, prone to drinking his feelings away and moody? These are all flaws the show points to, flaws you would be aware of if you paid attention.

And F. By this point, I don’t want Qrow to get better. At this point, the show has beaten him down to the point that I want him to die so the show can’t fuck with him anymore. You took a character in a show all about facing the darkness and doing what is right and made me want him dead out of pity. That is a spectacular failure.

Your ignorance has made this version to be not only the same character but with less consistency and actively attacking the show’s themes.

And you wonder why I don’t listen.

#magicalhunterpaladin

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individuationfic · 5 years ago

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Hoping I’ve Got It All Right Chapter 2: Don’t You Know What You’re Starting?

AO3

Sakura Sojiro is prepared for a lot of things, but he’s not prepared for the boys who walks into his café.

The kid is quiet. Polite. He calls him “Sakura-san” and doesn’t complain about sleeping in the attic. The only question he has is if he could plant flowers in the window if he can find a planter box for it. He is, in no way, shape, or form, the delinquent Sojiro was expecting.

Sojiro doesn’t know how to handle this kind of honesty, so he calls the kid a pain in the ass, tells him not to do anything reckless, and heads home, where even if Futaba comes with issues, they make sense.

[Akira]: Got here safe. Sakura-san gave me a big room.

[Jun]: Good! I shipped some dried flowers with your clothes. Make sure to hang them up.

[Akira]: Okay, Papa.

[Tatsuya]: You’re going to the school tomorrow, right?”

[Akira]: Yeah.

[Tatsuya]: Let us know how that goes.

[Akira]: I will.

[Akira]: I’ll probably head to bed early. I’m tired.

[Jun]: Good night, sweetie!

[Tatsuya]: Good night.

[Akira]: Night. Love you.

[Jun]: 💖💖💖

Papa sent some dried lavender, so Akira hangs it by what he decides is the head of his bed. Well, “bed” is probably generous. It’s a thin mattress on a bunch of crates. He glances at the couch he just wiped down and decides the “bed” is his best bet for any kind of restful sleep.

He’s glad he convinced Dad and Papa not to come. They would never let him stay here, and this is their last hope. Akira can deal with living in an attic for a year if it means everything will go back to normal after.

He re-deletes the weird red app from his phone, goes to sleep, and dreams of a blue prison, of twin wardens, and of a man with a long nose and a deep voice.

[Akira]: I met my homeroom teacher. Her name is Kawakami-sensei.

[Akira]: She seems tired.

[Jun]: She had to come in on her day off. Of course she’s tired.

[Tatsuya]: Give her my cell number next time you see her. I want to introduce myself.

[Akira]: Ok, Dad.

[Jun]: Did you ride the train today?

[Akira]: No, Sakura-san drove me. I’ll have to take the train tomorrow.

[Jun]: Well, be careful, and leave a little early so you have extra time in case you get lost.

[Akira]: I know, Papa, I will.

The punk kid reminds Akira of Uncle Eikichi, so he feels comfortable following him to school. Which would have been fine, but the school is a castle and they’re in a dungeon and all Akira wanted was a normal day.

He feels sick—like, physically ill—when the man his schoolmate called “Kamoshida” starts beating him. It’s the same feeling Akira had before he pushed the man who sued him, encouraging him to act.

So he does.

Even when he’s pinned to the wall, he struggles. He feels a bit like a feral ccat, wriggling and hissing and clawing at the suits of armor to get free. His back is already aching; it will probably be covered in bruises come morning from how hard he’s being slammed against the brick behind him.

But he keeps fighting, because he’ll die before he lets an innocent person get hurt if he can stop it.

And then comes a voice, both new and familiar, and his head feels like it’s going to break in half because the insides are too big for his skull. Call upon my name, says the voice, and release thy rage! so Akira says, “Arsène.”

The sound of his voice alerts Kamoshida, who stops in his brutal beating of the other boy to face Akira. The blond boy is panting, covered in scratches and bruises and looking half dead already. Something flares in the back of Akira’s mind. Something primal. This boy whose name he doesn’t even know is his. He knows this like he knows the sky is blue and Aunt Maya can’t clean. It’s a fact, undeniable and true. It’s not sexual or romantic, but the boy is his, and he refuses to let Kamoshida touch him again.

“I will stop you,” he tells Kamoshida, and he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. It’s low, guttural. Barely human. He’s gratified to see some of the color drain from Kamoshida’s face, and, emboldened, continues speaking. “You have no right to touch him.”

Kamoshida laughs, though it’s a bit shaky. “No right? I’m the king of this castle! I can do whatever I please!” He jerks his head, and one of the guards slams his shield into Akira’s face, knocking his glasses to the cell floor.

“If this is how you want to play it,” Akira says in that animalistic voice, “so be it.”

And there’s a mask on his face, and he needs to get it off get it off getitoff, so he rips it off, and he’s surrounded by blue flames that don’t burn.

“Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”

“You can believe or disbelieve whatever you want. I’m just telling you what happened, Prosecutor-san.”

The cat-monster he and the other boy rescue is familiar to Akira. He can’t really place why, just like how he knows the boy is his somehow, but this isn’t the first time he’s met Morgana. He tells himself it’s because of Arsène and Zorro and pretends that’s it until he has more time to think about it.

Going to school after… everything is surreal. He tells Kawakami-sensei he got lost on the subway and while he knows she doesn’t believe it, he also knows she has no proof that he’s lying. He gives her his dad’s cell number and sits behind the girl who got in Kamoshida’s car this morning and does his best to ignore his classmates’ pointed whispers.

The boy is Sakamoto Ryuji, Akira learns on Shujin’s roof. When Akira looks at him, he sees the white flowers of the copaiba tree, or maybe the African violet. Something that symbolizes his honesty and vitality.

He doesn't know why he has this power. He doesn’t know why the school turned into a castle and then back into a school. But he knows he wants answers and has the ability to get them, so he agrees to help Ryuji.

(Plus, he’s not about to leave Kamoshida alone with Ryuji again. Ryuji is his, and he’s going to protect what’s his.)

Sojiro is angry with Akira when he comes back to the café.

Maybe angry isn’t the right word. Sakura-san doesn’t really care enough about him to be angry. Irritated is more like it, Akira thinks. He gets another lecture on staying out of trouble because “I’m in the restaurant business, you know.” Akira does his best to placate Sakura-san and escapes up to the attic. He’s going to need his rest if he and Ryuji are going to make any progress tomorrow.

[Akira]: I think I made a friend today.

[Jun]: That’s great, honey! What’s their name?

[Akira]: His name is Ryuji. I got lost in the subway and he helped me find the school.

[Akira]: He reminds me of Uncle Eikichi.

[Tatsuya]: Just what we need. Another Michel.

[Jun]: Eikichi is a lovely person and if Akira has made a friend like him, he’s a lucky young man.

[Akira]: I think so, too.

It takes Akira and Ryuji an embarrassingly long while to connect the weird app on their phones to the whole school-castle thing. When they finally do, Akira is back in the strange outfit, mask and all, from yesterday and Ryuji is left in just his school uniform.

Morgana, despite his (and Akira is sure Morgana is a “he,” no matter what his name is) feigned indifference, helps Akira and Ryuji break back into the castle. And maybe it’s just Morgana’s phantom thief talk, but sneaking around like this really is exciting.

Not that Dad can ever know, Akira thinks as he strikes down another group of what Morgana calls “Shadows.” If he knew what a rush I get out of this, he’d keel over.

And that’s another thing. The fighting. Akira isn’t usually a confrontational person, assault charge notwithstanding. In elementary school, he was the kid who ran and got teachers, not the one getting into fights. But this place has a strange effect on him. It makes him animalistic in a way that should scare him.

It doesn’t. It makes him feel powerful.

Until he falls.

He and Morgana are lucky Kamoshida underestimated Ryuji. If he’d been pinned down like them, they would be dead.

As it is, Akira’s encouragement helps Ryuji awaken to Captain Kidd and they manage to wipe the floor with Kamoshida’s goons.

(Whatever primal thing in the back of Akira’s mind is, it’s pleased by Ryuji’s power. Akira’s just happy Ryuji can defend himself now.)

Ryuji is still worried about the volleyball team members they saw Kamoshida torturing. Sure, they’re not real, but everything in this world is a distortion of the real world, so they both know some kind of abuse is happening. And then there was the fake Takamaki and… ugh. Any teacher who thinks of an underaged student like that is the lowest of the low.

Morgana says they have to steal Kamoshida’s heart.

Akira has a lot to think about.

He’s waiting for the train at the Aoyama station, staring at his phone for a lack of anything better to do, when something rugs at the edge of his mind. He’s not used to hearing Arsène talking in his head just yet, so he jumps at the sound (feeling? thought?) of his low voice. Turn around.

What? Why?

Trust me. Turn around.

He’s not sure what could possibly interest Arsène so much, but Arsène is also a semi-physical manifestation of his inner self, so Akira shrugs and does as he’s told.

And freezes.

A few feet away stands a girl he never though he would see again. Sure, her hair is longer now, her face more angular, her body more lithe, but Akira would know her anywhere.

He sees the moment she catches sight of him. Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open in shock. For a few seconds, she is frozen, but then she rockets forward, and Akira barely has time to lift his arms before she slams into his chest. It aches a little to realize he’s more than a head taller than her now.

She’s shaking in his arms. Quietly, almost too quiet for him to hear, she says, “Akira.”

He squeezes her, impossibly gentle. “Shiho.”

#individuation #ao3fic #cover #persona series #persona 5 #persona 2

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