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thr-333 · 4 years ago

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Drastic Measures- Part 8

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Wind~

It’s just a nice day in Gotham, like always.

Ao3

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“You know what?” Ladybug says to Chat as they both take shelter from the wind, “I really hate Gothams weather,”

“It’s fine Ladybug,” Chat jokes, daring to look around the building only to hide again with severely windswept hair, "Just don't go into hibernation,”

“I might just watch me,”

“You there!” they both look over to see an officer pointing a gun at them, “Leave! Let the pros handle this!”

“Excuse me! We are the pros!” Ladybug snaps despite their cowering behind a building from wind.

“But if you want to try take over your welcome to it!” Chat Noir yells, grabbing Ladybug and leaving their shelter before they got shot. They get thrown back into the wind, blown back a few steps. They hold onto each other working together to reach the Akuma hiding in a self-made tornado.

“Do you think someone was just as mad at the weather as I am!?” Ladybug yells over the wind, trying to throw her yo-yo only for it to get blown back in her face.

“Well, I have to say this is kind of a step-down!” Chat shouts, trying to poke his staff through the tornado getting jerked to the side, only saved by Ladybug catching him, “Stormy Weather could control all sorts of weather,”

“Yeah and almost started several global catastrophes!”Ladybug pulls him back down to the ground, both crouching down.

“Well, maybe we need some luck before there's another!”

“You got it,” Ladybug nods, gearing up to throw her yoyo, “Lucky charm!”

The lucky charm is immediately blown away.

“... Maybe we should have done that further away,” Chat muses.

“You think so?” Ladybug sighs, “Maybe the city road maintenance could use some bad luck?”

“Oh I get what you're putting down,” Chat grins, “Cata-”

“Help!” The look towards the cry, a couple of officers and their car getting pulled up to the sky.

“Looks like they took you up on your offer,” Ladybug deadpans, running over to them with a tailwind.

“I was trying to make a joke!” Chat Noir jumps up catching the two and getting carried off by the wind.

“Trying,” Ladybug throws her yoyo out wrapping it around Chat and pulling him and the officers down.

“Well how about we try making a new manhole?” Chat Noir places the officers on the ground, they duck down getting pressed to the road by the winds.

“That's all you Kitty!” Ladybug shelters the police long enough they can grab onto a lamp post.

“Cataclysm!” Chat Noir hits the ground, lowering the level of destruction to a smaller radius. He keeps it activated until the hole is big enough for them to drop down into. Ladybug sticks close to him as they tunnel under the tornado.

“Do we know where the Akuma is?”

“Why don’t you brainstorm?” Chat says with slight irritation, “Kinda trying to focus,”

“Sorry,” Ladybug cringes, keeping quiet for him.

“Here should be good,” Chat Noir says, turning to point his hand up and make their way back to the surface. They pop up in the eye of the tornado everything calm but wind gushing around them. Marinette throws out her yo-yo unimpeded catching the floating Akuma's legs and pulling them to the ground.

“YoU!” The Akuma lashes out at her with a fan, a slight flick, and Ladybug is blown back into the tornado.

“Chat! The fan!” Ladybug tries to pull herself back into the calm but the winds are too strong, she only prevents not being blown away by her yoyo still wrapped around the Akuma's legs.

“On it! Cataclysm repeat!” He calls on it again grabbing the fan and turning it to dust. The storm calms and Ladybug lands on her feet getting the leverage she needs to grab the butterfly and purify it.

“Bye bye little butterfly,”

“No to be the bearer of bad news,” Chat Noir half whispers to her, “But we're out of the pot and into the fire,”

Ladybug looks around to see the police starting to form a shaky barricade around them, it's easy enough to evade if the batclan wasn't blocking every viable exit.

“So police or Batman?”

“I honestly can’t deal with his high and mighty routine right now,” Ladybug sighs still chilled to the bone from the wind, “Police,”

She walks over with purpose to the man she had researched was the commissioner; Gordon. On her way she finds a spotted item lying on the side of the road. So that's where her lucky charm went. A fan, cute.

“Miraculous ladybug!” Ladybug stands before commissioner Gordon, whom she knew had to have dealings with Batman, he marvels at the repairing ladybugs until she gets his attention, “You want to talk sir?”

“You finally want to talk to me?” He asks instead, almost good naturally if tired like he was used to it. Definitely had dealings with Batman.

“If I wanted to hear get out of my city and leave this to me I would just record him,” Ladybug gets Chat to chuckle, not the commissioner but she can tell he wants to, “What did you want to talk about?”

“Your a hero unaffiliated with the Justice League or any government,” The commissioners lays out, “In other words, you're a vigilante and I don’t know if you can be trusted with Gotham's safety, Batmans been around for years he’s a vigilante but he does protect the city, so why are you here?”

“I understand your concerns sir, but unfortunately this isn’t a matter of borders or what city each hero protects, the villain hawkmoth can only be stopped by us or other miraculous users, so even if you dont approve we will continue to operate even if we have to fight the police along the way,” Ladybug says with all the confidence, hoping to also portray that she really dosent want to, “As for trust we operated in Paris for years, we have the trust to the citizens and officials, if you want a reference call the chief of police or the Mayor we have worked under the approval of both,”

“I will, thank you Ladybug,”

“No problem,” Her earring beeps, “Now if you’ll excuse us, bug out,”

They jump up, using their skills to reach the rooftops.

“Oh man I forgot about this guy,” Chat complains as Batman is right there when they land.

“Ladybug-”

“Yes leave the city, yes I’m not needed here, thank you I’ve heard it before,” Ladybug tries to just walk past him but Robin lands in her way, “You know we have to stop meeting like this, wouldn't you prefer a nice dinner date?”

Robin makes a choking sound which must be offended. Chat laughs, coming to lean on her shoulder.

“We’ve traded places bug-a-boo,”

“Heh,” She smirks at the old nickname, “bird-a-boo,”

Robin completely freezes, giving them the chance to run by, he doesn't even react, until she calls.

“Later bird-a-boo~”

It’s an interesting reaction.

---

“You seem distracted,” Marinette tells Damian, both working separately together in their study.

“I’M NOT!”

“Oh forgive me, clearly you are completely relaxed,” Marinette rolls her eyes, pinning a new design to the wall.

“Heh there must be a pretty girl in his life,” Adrien smirks from the seat he stole from her earlier.

“Why are you even here?!” Damian snaps, taking the papers Adrien was shifting through.

“You didn’t deny it~”

“Oh is there someone?” Marinette ignores the sick feeling for plastered cheerfulness, “Tell us about her,”

“It’s none of your business!” Damina snatches some more papers from the desk and storms out, blushing all the while.

“Don’t be embarrassed!” Marinette calls after him letting go of her gratefulness she didn’t have to hear about her, she says quieter, “I bet she’s super cool,”

“I’m noticing a pattern with you Marinette,” Adrien hums, her sketchbook now taking up his attention.

“Adrien I was madly in love with you for like a year and you didn’t realize so I highly doubt you can notice a thing,” Marinette takes her book from him, whacking him lightly with it.

“Right back at you bug,” Adrien tries to snatch it back from her only to get pushed back.

“Flirting doesn't count,” Marinette rolls her eyes, putting her book safely on the shelf, “No one can tell if you’re serious,”

“Is that so~” Adrien hums, “What about Robin?”

“I’m not flirting with him,” Marinette rolls her eyes, gathering up some fabric to start her next project.

“You so are ,” Adrien accuses, outraged.

“I am not!” She slams the fabric down on the desk and turns to him.

“So are,” Adrien smirks sinking back into the seat.

“I don’t even know him,” Marinette rolls her eyes again it's scary how much that's becoming second nature at this point.

“You could~”

“Adrien!”

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No tag list sorry, I’m horrible at keeping track of them :P

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #MLB #ML #ml fic #Marinette #miraculous marinette #badass marinette #maribat #daminette

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meyeselph · 3 years ago

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Gwenpool: Desperate Misanthrope's Confused Angst

Showtime

Ms. Pool woke up in a familiar room. Not in Krakoa - there are no mutants around. This isn’t a story about that. Look, honestly, without an actual Gwenpool series and the constant breaks in her comics appearance I can’t even begin to give a fuck. I cancelled my marvel universe subbie. I might get back to my stories but single issues are iffy. I read fast and don’t pore over the artwork. So I get 10 minutes of entertainment for….FIVE DOLLARS? When did this happen? Jeezus.

Who even reads comics anymore?

Anyway, long story short, Gwen got out of bed and recognized the room as her old one from the “old times.” The dark times. The ‘not running around in pink and white outfits and shooting people’ times. She panicked (Been there. It is what it is though). The only way out of trauma is through.

She dressed in old clothes, immediately hit by old smells, she couldn’t help but cry. Was it all a dream? Have I gone insane (again)? All the usual self doubts cropped up. I mean, really, if you think this kind of thing didn’t pass through her mind regularly why don’t you transport yourself to a comic book universe?

Oh, you can’t?

Oh. It isn’t actually possible for you and I’m stupid for suggesting it. So, yeah. If it actually happened and you kept that attitude then the logical assumption for a normie is a mental breakdown. Trick for Gwen, though, is it's probably always been both real and her being nuts.

So she goes downstairs to the kitchen to figure out why this is happening and Evil Gwen is having cereal. Let's say cocoa puffs. I’ve been thinking about those recently. You ever remember cereal as something worth cherishing. Not as just bullshit that TV convinced you to want? God damn, now I want Cookie Crisp. Cookie Crisp wasn’t even ever that good. Why do I want Cookie Crisp?

So also sitting around the table were the faceless versions of her father, mother, and her brother. Just chilling. No BD. Seen Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind?

Yes, I know that references aren’t jokes - fuck you, I’m painting a picture and I CAN’T PAINT, THAT’S WHY THIS ISN’T A COMIC. Fucks sake. Anyway. So, Gwen is so creeped out that she just sits her butt down by Evil Gwen as if she’s the comforting presence here.

Her name’s too long. Let’s call Evil Gwen uh…….Gren. You know, like Grendel from Beowulf. I haven’t actually read Beowulf and this is all a little confusing but I'm solving problems here. Writing this is harder for me than you would think so it’s best to keep things flowing off the cuff. That’s the Gwenpool™ style anyway, isn’t it? Are you laughing yet? IMPROV. “YES AND” MY SHIT, READER!

“So, you ever really look into the retconned past thing, hun?” Gren said, moving her tongue around her food. Being gross as an attempt to be properly evil. She swallowed before continuing. “This is all I could really put together on short notice but i’m pretty sure what the future people created, all that stuff to try and trick you, it was all bullshit.”

“What do you mean? Are you trying to convince me to go all psycho like you again?” Gwen asked, exasperated, realizing she was now back in the whole ‘fuck with Gwen to decide her fate’ song and dance routine from the end of her first arc.

“Nah, not really.” Gren said. A hammer appeared in her hands out of nowhere and Gren swung it into their fake father’s head, snapping his neck..

“DAD!” Gwen instinctively cried as she saw her father’s body slump to the floor. Gren slapped Gwen’s face. “That’s it,” Gren said, “this is what the trick was.This is a poorly created character in a fictional story. Meant to manipulate you into attaching your concept of “father” to it. Even his finished version in the original comics run wasn’t THAT well drawn. Your dad read like a boomer’s idea of a responsible parent. You were going through a mental crisis and struggling to find purpose in life and his genius idea was get a shitty low paying job and suck it up?”

Gren turned to their brother, pushed his face to the table and smashed the back of his skull. . “Brother dearest, too. Going right along with their victim blaming. He gaslighted you as if what you were going through was just you being ‘irresponsible.’ Bitch, people working a minimum wage job aren’t somehow not impoverished and miserable because they get some of that ‘honest work’ that folks keep badgering on about. Minimum wage work is occupied by many physically and mentally disabled people held hostage; they’re people society only pretends to care about. Then they turn it all into you acting like some world ending threat. No questions about what drove you to the edge in the first place. You are just ‘unstable,’ so you’re just a problem to be solved. They say, ‘Let’s all solve this girl being upset and on edge by ruining her concept of self, reality, and memory.’ Brilliant!”

Gwen barely processed this in horror. Gren then slit the poor facsimile of their mother’s throat while continuing to rant, “You see people die all the time, Gwen. Half of the time you are doing the killing. You do it because it’s in a story. In a story the NPCs don’t matter and, after all, your original schtick in the story was to be kill-crazy. The non-marketable characters can be replaced or retconned at the stroke of the artist’s pen.” Gren leans forward as she pulls a Gwenpool mask over Gwens face. “Then the writers convince you that you have some middle class milk toast family and you take abuse and subsume your emotional needs because the problem MUST be you. You aren’t ‘normal’ so you have to be fixed.”

Gwen wiped her eyes over the mask and sighed. A bit of fire filled her gut as she stared at Gren. “So fucking what? You want me to go on a killing spree and be a big time villain to get myself a nice, shiny permanent big bad status? That’s how I stay around right? Just build my legacy on bodies?”

Gren scoffed “You already lost that fight, girly. Where do you think we are? Because this ain’t Marvel Comics.”

Confused, Gwen blinked and tried reaching for the page margins, finding nothing. Wait….why was everything on this page so ill defined and undetailed? Wait? Why was the story in kinda wobbly third person past tense?

Gwen sighed “Oh. I’m in a fanfic. I guess the publishing fight is for another day eh?”

“My advice, personally,” Gren stated, “is that you consider the lobster.”

“Wait, what the fuck?”

Gren pulled aside the kitchen curtains revealing the face of a giant lobster, its claws tapping on the glass. The lobster muttering gutterally about personal responsibility.

“Because there’s a couple thousand giant lobsters outside that would like to claw you until you read their book.”

Scared of Girls

On the rooftop, Gren shoved a high powered rifle into Gwen’s hands while she handled the close range threats. So, this conversation they’re about to have is important. Sniping puts Gwen into a sort of zen space, so that’s a better task to keep her focused, after all.

“So, what? You wanted me to internalize that my “origin story” is bullshit? Okay, what does that accomplish, then?” Gwen asked in a bit of a deadpan. She was so tired today. Not really feeling her happy go lucky energy. More like a “happy go fucky” energy. It was hard to always be on a knife's edge. Still the rifle’s kick into her shoulder was satisfying as she blew through two of the creepy looking lobsters at once. “Also, why the lobsters?”

Gren considered this. “Okay, last question first, I had to experiment a lot and do a lot of research to construct this place for your learning and healing in fanfic form....These buddies are a failed experiment of mine that I repurposed because the fic needed more action. Isn’t that right, giant enemy crap?” As she peppers the nearest goon with a hail of shotgun pellets the entire throng of them burst out, sharply muttering about divine symbols.

“As for what I'm trying to teach you, it’s that you aren’t reaching your potential.” Gren grumpily huffed.

“Duh,” Gwen reloads, “I mean you just killed a mannequin version of the voice in my head that says that to me every day.” one of those crustaceans talks about feminine symbolism while she decides on her next target.

“Not like fake daddy’s ‘Be a responsible member of society by paying your taxes’ type of potential. I mean your creative and emotional potential.” Gren flipped off the slavering throng of monsters, noticing they were starting to keep their distance from the roof.

“I never did finish that fanfic idea I had.” Gwen mused.

“God, don’t mention that,” Gren thrusts a finger at Gwenpool. “Not that I don’t respect fanfic, but when comic book writers make you and Kamala squee about fanfiction to try and relate to “the kids” it comes across as so condescending.”

“Really? I mean…..I'm sure it’s meant as support for the concept?”

“Most fucking superhero comics are just legalized fanfiction! The people who created the characters are either long gone or working on someone else’s characters! They just think they are so much better because they got fucking paid. They can’t imagine themselves as on the same playing field as fanficcers even though most of them have the same level of connection to the roots of the work as anyone else.” Gren groused loudly as she seemed to pull Reed Richards out of nowhere.

Confused, Reed looked around until his eyes met Gwen’s.“Oh great, you again.” Reed groaned as he turned to survey the piles of lobster gibs while Gwen cheered the lobster forces’ retreat with a resounding “EDF, EDF!”. The scattered creatures skittered amongst the bland scenery. It looked like a suburban neighborhood but someone forgot to color in the sky….or write that the sky had color. A castle hung out in the distance breaking up the generic normalcy and lay cloaked in shadow despite being surrounded by an endless white void.

“And…..black….you?” Reed pointed to Gren, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I have an evil future self….well I stopped that future so it’s an….evil...alternate timeline self?” Gwen said with a nervous chuckle, abandoning the kill quest for the minute and rested her rifle on the roof.

“Ah. Yeah I’ve been down that road. It’s a rather common occurrence. Multiverse being what it is.” Reed laughed heartily while putting his hands on his hips.

“I’m not sure I’m evil, honestly,” Gren interjected. “I think I’m just really fucking grumpy and I’m slightly more gung-ho on the homicide. Considering Gwen’s already one of the more kill crazy characters on the roster it’s not that much of a distinction.” Gren flipped her cape. “My main distinction is I don’t like that meme from The Incredibles! You can just make it so the cape detaches automatically when it’s pulled hard enough!”

“You could still have it tangled up around your face.” Reed pointed out in his standard know-it-all fashion.

“Don’t make me go into fuck wife mode, stretch.” Gren spat. “Okay, anyway, so I brought him here to illustrate a point. Reed. Explain particle physics to me as a laymen.”

“Huh...i’m not sure why but okay. Particle physics (also known as high energy physics) is a branch of physics that studies the nature of the particles that constitute matter and radiation. Although the word particle can refer to various types of very small objects (e.g. protons, gas particles, or even household dust), particle physics usually investigates the irreducibly smallest detectable particles and the fundamental interactions necessary to explain their behaviour. In current understanding, these elementary particles are excitations of the quantum fields that also govern their interactions. The currently dominant theory explaining these fundamental particles and fields, along with their dynamics, is called the Standard Model. Thus, modern particle physics generally investigates the Standard Model and its various possible extensions, e.g. to the newest "known" particle, the Higgs boson, or even to the oldest known force field, gravity.” Reed rattled this off rather mechanically.

Gren then took out her phone and showed Gwen the Wikipedia article on “Particle Physics,” which is naturally the same words that Reed had regurgitated above, just without any formatting and, again, on a phone.

“Reed can’t be a genius in any subject unless he’s written by a genius in that subject. That’s how stories work. Everyone is limited by the understanding and capabilities of the writer. Same with your origin story and all the people you’ve interacted with. If you are as ‘meta’ as you think you are then you have to realize that you aren’t actually talking to people. You are talking to the writer. Dr. Strange didn’t rewrite your existence to be a part of the Marvel Universe. As far as most of Marvel continuity goes Dr. Strange was never there and doesn’t know or care about his MCU casting…..Hey Reed, buzz off please before the conversation pivots to why you haven’t cured all known diseases.”

Reed looked a little surprised but then pulled out a teleportation device (of course he has one) and blipped away with a shrug.

“How awkward is that going to be when he enters the MCU after Kamala is already introduced with a very similar power set?” Gwen chuckled.

“Keep up the way you’ve been going and you’ll never see it. I’m not exactly expecting a young blonde girl casting call for Deadpool 3 and that’s your best bet.” Gren snarked. Gwen winced with a sigh.

“I don’t get what I'm doing wrong. I have a fanbase comparable to some of the characters that have already shown up but I can’t even get comics written about me most of the time. An MCU push seems unlikely. They would literally have to deal with completely recontextualizing my powers and gimmick”

“Let’s ask her what you should do.” Gren motioned her way to the suddenly appearing long hair future Gwen, looming over them like The Attack of the 50 foot Woman for some reason. Dwarfing the roof they are on. Let’s call her BIGwen!

Gold Guns Girls

As BIGwen acclimated to her surroundings she stubbed her toe on a car, dramatically flipping it so that it took out a few more lobsters before caving in a nearby house. The lamentations about clean rooms soaring as the remaining couple dozen of them attempt to clean up some of the bodies of their fallen kin. The large and sort-of-in-charge Gwen hissed in pain and adjusted her boot. Getting her balance as best as possible she muttered curses that traveled rather well considering the lung capacity of a giant.

“You know,” Gren started, “I wasn’t expecting much from our previous uses of the ‘make her big for emphasis’ trick, but it really does only work as a vague ghostly background element. I didn’t just want it to be ‘oh, here's a third Gwen for the conversation, though. Would lack umph.”

“ Yeah, I get it, but staring at my own giant taint is unsettling.” Gwen muttered.

“I’d still, hit it.” Gren grinned, then immediately got punched in the arm. “OWWW! Look, I’m the evil one here and we’re in a fanfic. I’m allowed to make internet fetish jokes.”

“And I’m allowed to hit you for it.”.

“Dirty lampshading goody two shoes. Don’t act like half your fanbase isn’t thirsty. It’s “insert current year argument”, all art is sexy to someone.” Gren complained back,rubbing her arm before hopping off the roof. Gwen followed while listening as patiently as she could considering how many changes in topic her evil-caped self is going through to get to her point. “This chick is the reason you’ve been on the path of good girl. Some vague idea that in the future everything will work out for the best. HEY, DOWN HERE, BIG SHOW!” Gren waved at BIGwen and she looked down curiously.

“Yeah what??” BIGwen responded in a booming and agitated tone. Honestly, being in this fic made every version of Gwen a little grumpy.

“How’s she supposed to be a popular hero that makes it into the MCU and has a stable publication history?” Gren asked.

“Fuck if I know.” Came BIGwen’s response. “Have you tried growing your hair out?”

“Rub it in,” Gwen muttered under her breath, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of depressed now.” Gwen said as she sat on an abandoned car.

Gren hopped on the roof of the car, patting Gwen’s shoulder before squatting with enough force to flex the car’s shocks like a rocking chair just to amuse herself. “Future “good” Gwen wasn’t an actual plot point, it was a call to action to the fans to make fanfic like this and support the character outside of the actual Canon. Chris didn’t trust that Marvel would treat the character right. That, and your obsession with getting a new book, are both the writer’s attempt to turn a marketing tactic into fan engagement. If you want to be real then that makes the fans want you to be real even more, too.”

Gwen sighs heavily and leans her chin on one hand. “I mean...the time traveling through the life of an NPC fan complete with a Never Ending Story reference was a bit sappy even by the standard we sometimes set...damn it it really was just kind of a fan manipulation trick wasn’t it?”

BIGwen Sat down on the street next to them and crossed her legs. “Hey, little me. Don’t get too down. I mean it worked for the most part. You have a healthy cult following. Characters have survived on less and there are worse things to be known for then as a fan first character”

“But I have to fight for attention all the damn time, though. It’s so easy for Wade with his fucking meme bullshit. He even gets runoff enthusiasm from me. Jeff the land shark is all over Oldpool online” Gwen felt rather heavy and tired all of a sudden. Marvel editorial forcing a gun to your head is not a fun way to be.

“All that fight is hell on the fanbase too.” Gren sighed. “Advocating for shit, getting crumbs and being expected to accept it while Disney lavishes all the attention based on some bullshit numbers game. Even if you make it into the MCU will it be a Batroc style cameo with obligatory ‘killed off in case we don’t feel like paying the actor again later.’ Will it be an emotionally rounded character or an ambush bug style joke? The thing is. You're Not the one fighting and you never were.”

“The fuck do you mean?”

“This version of her doesn’t know?” BIGwen whimpered.

“You aren’t real, Gwen.”

Head Like a Haunted House

“No….we aren’t having this conversation. Fuck you fuck you i’m not a fucking Nihlist and i’m not going to do this right now.” Gwen said as she scrambled off of the car and pulled out some guns. BIGwen then picked her up off the ground.

“You need to hear this, Gwen,” BIGwen boomed. “The gimmick has run its course. It’s fucking with your canon. You’re never going to be a marketable character keeping up a half fourth-wall Kayfabe”

Gren climbed onto BIGwen’s Shoulders and perched over Gwen all menacing like. “You need to listen. I’ve been trying to ease you into this. Making things more meta slowly until you were ready but it was never going to be easy.”

One of Gwen’s guns was fired from it’s holster and pierced one of BIGwen’s fingers. BIGwen screamed and her grip loosened. Soon Gwen was on the move running up her arm and firing at Gren, who dodged like the nimble and cute badass she is. “Don’t do this Gwen. Just because it doesn’t matter to the comic version of you doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m a real person god damn it! I read the comics out there! I came in! That’s why I know shit I shouldn't know. That’s what I am! THAT’S ALL I AM!” Gwen shrieked as she pulled out a sword from hammer-space and decapitated BIGwen. Suddenly a mess of colored streamers and a pile of Mickey Mouse merch tumbled out. Look, I am busy right now. Gwen is still slashing at my ass. I'm not going to explain it.

For some reason now the remaining lobsters were helping Gren. For Gwen’s own good you understand. This is proof that I’m right for some reason.

Gwen pulled out a revolver, firing pumpkin sized holes in lobsters who were still wailing about self actualization. She fully planned on shoving a sword up her evil self’s ass and getting rid of this doppelganger shit for good. Which is total bullshit by the way. She totally just cut off Gren’s leg because what the fuck you mean I’m not real? I’m going to be real all over your corpse.

Gren didn’t really think that was even a good comeback and also thought you should probably say it instead of meta willing the smack talk into existence, otherwise this fanfic is going to read like trash. Also, Gren’s leg wasn’t actually cut off. In a puff of smoke it is revealed that the cut off leg is a log and her leg is fine. Gren is a ninja now, believe it.

Gwen proceeded to do a sick ass CQC judo throw on Gren and then grab her cape and wrap it around her face like Reed suggested. Callbacks for the win! Callbacks to Checkov’s gun ideas always lead to victory in fights! She then totally shot at her and such.

But the bullet was caught by the cape because the cape was a symbiote! That’s right Gren is also GRENOM!...boy that sounds stupid. Anywho, the cape was no longer around her face and the fight continued and Gren now ALSO had extra powers and special wizard-symbiote armor (that would only show up in the MCU version if Marvel finally got the Sony characters back). The meta powers work like shit in text but this would be really good in CGI or animation if Marvel wanted to adapt this fic and give the writer lots of money. Gren still has more experience with them, though, and Gwen can’t really just kill her way out of this fic so she has to just let the story play out.

…...eh?....oh Gwen’s crying. I love/am you girl but we gotta work on the crying. Fucks sake this is harder than I thought. I’m depressed now too. Well I'll try to get the writing back on track so you guys can see what is going on. Even the lobsters are minding their manners now. Chill vibes, guys.

“The marvel character page for Gwenpool says, and I quote:

Gwenpool arrived in the Marvel Universe from the “real world,” but has wasted no time in making the most of her time in her fictional universe. Using her knowledge of comics to her advantage, Gwenpool causes and solves problems for her fellow heroes.”

Gren drags a lobster corpse slowly toward Gwen and sits on its tail as she talks to her. Taking her time to really scrape the lobster against the ground, smearing the gore on the pavement. Not that it was heavy for her or anything. Totally still has that symbiote, which would make moving it easy. Totally wasn’t a detail added in the second revision of the fic slightly before the lobsters were added.

“The words “Real world” are in quotation marks in that wiki. Real people don’t make it into comics because fiction isn’t real. Half of your versions barely make use of the ‘real person’ gimmick because it’s too meta by half and not every writer wants to waste time justifying it. So they just treat it like Deadpool’s medium awareness. Which it mostly is.”

“I really am just a fucking rip off distaff character.” Gwen moans. “Just a Gwen combined with a Pool. I’m worse than the Batman who laughs. I never mattered because I was never real”

“Fuck don’t say that. You were made with love and care by a team of creators who took a weird offshoot idea and built out a compelling metafiction idea and a likeable protagonist off of it. They just didn’t have the time and foresight to go far enough.” Gren sighed.

“Far enough?” Gwen sniffed as she was pulled up to her feet and dragged toward one of the big castles. As they walked Gren kicked along a Mickey Mouse doll that had rolled out of BIGwen’s severed head. Every time it bounced it cheerfully said ‘hahah. I love you!’

“Too much haha, not enough trauma. You’re not just a joke character.” Gren said as she kicked the Mickey doll into the big front door of the castle. The shadowy thing of course lighting up and being all fantasy and shit as the door opened.

“Well I did end both of my comic runs pretty mopey.”

“Damn right you did. When the jokes run thin they run to your real bread and butter. You’re an empathy machine.” As Gren shoves Gwen through the gate they are swallowed up in the castle, going dark again. “Let’s getcha sad clown on.”

Never there

“See, what evil me should have been telling you about in the original run is how to find meaning and purpose when technically nothing means anything. Comic book characters live in a world without real death and suffering. It’s all a puppet show version of real pain and real emotion meant to bring that out of an audience.” Gren opined as they walked through a black void to a couch floating in a nothing area lit only by the static of an old TV.

“Can we turn on a light?” Gwen asked as she sat on the couch. Gren sat on another recliner that suddenly appeared and put her feet up.

“Fuck off. Ambiance is a thing. We aren’t having a ‘lights on with something fun on the TV’ conversation. So look, I am not really ‘evil gwen.’ I’m half an author insert and half a plot device. If we are talking about the reality of the story you are basically talking to yourself. I am speaking about the things you don’t want to admit to yourself. You know, you’ve seen this kind of story sorta... right?” Gren picked up the remote and frustratedly changed channels between a bunch of vaguely illustrative footage on the TV, not finding anything that worked. A lot of black and white footage of trains for some reason. Just what comes to mind when I think of documentary footage? Weird.

“I am not sure how to illustrate this shit visually and this is a text story anyway so I would have to explain the illustration,” Gren griped.

“I basically get it. It’s not that uncommon a trope.” Gwen nodded.

“Because of the level of meta we are on right now we have to really acknowledge that you are basically an author insert, too. I mean, to a certain extent every version of you is more the writer that is working with your character at the time than a set character.” Gren said as she settled on a visual of Gwen being pushed out the window by her own narration text in the original comic run. When all else fails, resort to footage from the last story. That way people can look it up online!

“Right here is where the character crystallized in the mind of the author of the current fic we are in. A vague suicide metaphor wrapped up in the flavor of self destructive escapism. Your parents in the story thought it was a suicide attempt on at least some level. This is serious business. Not just a girl who doesn’t like work and can’t finish her fanfic. In this comic you are built on this understanding. The writer of this fic has ADHD and autism. So his version of you more or less has it, too. Writers bring themselves with them into their work.”

Gwen nods and takes a deep breath. “I….I can feel it. Like the world is closing around you. You aren’t built for anything that anyone wants from you. The one thing you really believe in, the one thing that really defines you, the stories in your head…..it’s just not enough.

You can’t trust you’ll ever make it with writing because you can barely write. You barely have the energy to do anything but wish that you weren’t you. What if someone actually listened? Actually believed in you and whisked you away somewhere else where the world would fit your needs? What if you were someplace you could be someone else, someone strong and confident?”

“Yeah. Like a funny anti hero in a comic for instance.” Gren nodded. “But the original comics sort of left the theme on the table. They were captured by the misconception of Gwen as the problem and not a person who needed help. All that desperation that real fans of the character might feel just bundled up into love for this character that really ‘gets’ them but Marvel doesn’t ‘get’ the character. They won't use her. They won’t go past vaguely gesturing at her mental issues and moving on. They saved the angst for Wandavision.” Gren scoffs.

“I mean the show was okay but they literally have a character built entirely on the theme of escapism and trauma. One that’s custom built for mind-screw visuals and reality bending plots and they think she’s just a lazy fangirl who really likes guns that they can sit beside Deadpool sometimes and stick in the X-Men’s bloated background character roster when they don’t need her.”

Gren leads Gwen off the couch and deeper into the void where a door to a bedroom waits. A room like her own, absolutely slopping over with old toys of comic book characters. An unclean messy space in a run-down house that smells faintly of cigarette smoke. Huddled in bed, reading an 80s era X-men comic with a flashlight, is a 12 year old Gwen.

“This is never going to be canon but this is the version of Gwen in this fic. She can’t stop crying at school. Things that shouldn’t be hard are so hard and she can’t explain why. Everyone says she’s making excuses. Meanwhile her mother is fucked out of her mind on pain killers and her step father killed himself last year ‘cleaning his gun’ while drunk. You know exactly what is on her mind right now?” Gren says as she gestures at the girl.

“I wish the superheroes would save me from this.”

“They won’t. They can’t. They were never meant to.” Gren Slams the door loudly on the scene.

“That is the emotional core of Gwenpool in this fic. The desperation that so many of the fans down here in the fucking muck of the real world feel. Poor and emotionally unfulfilled. Confused and vulnerable. If Disney and Marvel gave two fucking shits about people like that they wouldn’t waste as many stories as they do. They wouldn’t just use untold wealth to make expensive escapist stories with the military. Their gestures toward progressive ideas that they occasionally make in their stories would be THE ENTIRE POINT of their stories and the actual thing they used that money for instead of lobbying the government to keep Mickey Mouse out of the public domain.

“Disney has the power yet they save a fucking miniscule fraction of who they could. Saving people doesn’t make money.”

When I Get To The Green Building

Gren stormed through the void. The scene disintegrated around her as Gwen followed. Both now in a bit of a sour mood but with newfound determination.

“Come to think of it. Why is the fucking Hulk getting to fight for social justice in the comics? Why are they making a gay alternate universe Captain America? Why are they grasping at straws so hard to find characters that get to advocate and I am just sitting on a fucking island being grumpy?” Gwen groused. “I’m pretty sure I’m pansexual….at least in this fic. I could advocate for a bunch of shit at once.”

“You have a youth fanbase, a unique story and you technically aren’t an alternate universe version of fucking anything no matter how many people still think you are a Stacey. They made a fucking ‘for the fans’ character and then neglected it. Presumably because some fucking money making metric didn’t pan out despite the comics just being an MCU test kitchen and IP farm anyway.”

“You’re a fucking check mark on a ledger. I don’t even know if anyone technically created Gwenpool as a whole and Disney/Marvel can give the character to whoever they want to do whatever they want completely separate from what the fanbase wants and needs because she isn’t established. The IP landlords have spoken. The fans haven’t risen to enough ‘buy my merch’ calls to action to invest more resources. So tease endlessly until that changes.”

“Gah. Now I'm actually as pissed as you are.” Gwen said as she started fiddling with her guns. “Who do I kill?”

“We can’t do shit. You’re not even a character at this point. You are a meme for an underused character.” Gren smirked all evil like. “See but that’s it. You aren’t just a meme. You’re a MEME.”

“Uhm...I don't follow.”

“Like the concept of Justice. Gwenpool is an idea. Defined entirely by how people who engage with the idea choose to engage with it. The IP law means Disney owns Gwenpool but they don’t own how Gwenpool is perceived. Just like we as a people decide what justice is through popular consent we also decide what Gwenpool is. You see they made a character for the fans…..in my opinion that means the fans can do as they like with it even if it makes Disney uncomfortable.”

“I mean they can’t even stop porn of their characters just because of the sheer volume of the problem. I suppose people could do whatever.” Gwen nodded.

“Exactly. So the fans should just fucking Occupy Gwenpool!” Gren said as she flipped her cape dramatically with a mad smile on her face. That’s right. She was Dirtbag Leftist Gwen all along!

“Squat on that IP. Make Gwenpool a mental health advocate. Make her an LGBTQ activist. Make her fight for social and financial justice so hard that Bruce Banner looks like a poser. Make her talk shit about politicians who put their career ahead of the people. Do all the shit that makes the comicsgate crowd sad. Keep politics in our stories! Rally around that pink and white ass so hard they have to notice and then tie it all to the fact that Disney has great power and with great power they take no responsibility for how shitty the world is.”

“ If they are going to fuck Gwenpool fans they gotta learn Gwenpool fans fuck back. We have already proven we can make all kinds of cool shit. Let’s get serious and make more, harder, faster! Get a hashtag or some shit. They can't DMCA all of us! GWEN IS OURS WE JUST HAVE TO REACH OUT AND TAKE IT. Then they either respect the character and her fans or they just hit a PR disaster.”

“Marvel/Disney neglects fan focused cult character themed protest movements. Proves they are only progressive when it makes them money. They’re so worried about Mickey ending up in the public domain? We’re the public domain! After our entire lives stannin their characters and buyin their merch building them from an animation house into a juggernaut they are just another weight on top of the boot on our necks. They have to take responsibility!” At this point Gren is pretty much ranting maniacally and neglecting the actual writing of the story so this is Gwen taking over to wrap up.

Guys I may not be ‘the real Gwen’ but really, isn’t the version of Gwen that actually came from the real world all of us? Isn’t Gwenpool really the Gwens we made along the way? We could easily bring a little heroism and chaos to the real world (at least to the internet) if we really tried. Put the fear of God into some IP landlords and fight for some cool people that society is screwing over, too.

Prove that even in the fandom abyss people aren’t as powerless as they seem. Use that internet comic fan mobbing for something besides giving Zack more money. Disney is gearing up for their next IP fight for Mickey in 2024. Seems like a fine time for IP themed protests. For now we just need to spread the word that our needs are more important than their profits.

It’s been real. It’s been long. It’s been a real long time coming…..

But I finally finished my fanfic.

See ya, true believers.

#gwenpool #fanfic #deconstruction #outofloveiswear #fortheoriginalwritersnotmarvelordisney #tw mental health #tw mentions of suicide #tw mentions of drug abuse #tw violence #tw gun violence

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enbylovebird · 4 years ago

Text

"don't you remember?"

hawks x gn!reader bullet fic.

tw: mentions of injury, memory loss.

(your quirk will be revealed, don't worry!)

the past few days have been... interesting

if a bystander were to narrate what's happened to you, it would be like everything has grinded to a screeching halt

one minute you were finishing up an assignment in a small café near your apartment, and the next, you were waking up in a hospital with a headache threatening to split your skull in half

to you, though, it doesn't feel like that. you can't remember what you were doing prior to being woken up by the harsh white lights of the hospital room.

you just... showed up here.

thankfully, you don't have to sit alone with no one to answer the hundreds of questions that are now knocking against your skull

there's two men at the door of your room. one of them has on what seems to be a white coat and a stethoscope and the other has... crimson wings.

his jacket looks warm and he's wearing headphones around his neck, and from where you're lying, his expression looks forced. forced into what specifically, you can't figure it out. but it's forced.

"um," you barely manage to hum. both men are at your side in a flash, their eyes wide with relief and concern. "where am i? what happened?"

the stethoscope man (doctor, your mind helpfully supplies) mutters something to the wing man (name unknown, your mind helps you again) and jogs out, leaving you upright with the man with wings.

"where is he going?" you ask. god, it feels like someone is taking a crack at your skull every time you speak.

the man with wings seems too overwhelmed to even speak. he's just scanning your face with teary eyes, his shoulders slowly rising to his ears. a watery smile shakes his lips, and you think, for just a second, that he's incredibly pretty.

his eyes are an amber... no, golden color, and they're trained on you and you alone.

you don't know why he's crying, though. over you, no less.

"are you okay?" you ask.

the pretty bird man lets out a shaky chuckle. "am i okay, they ask." he repeats your words. it's not mocking. he seems torn between laughing and crying, but before you can pin down what he's going to do, he grabs your hand and leans forward, resting his head on the bed.

his wings are folded against his back, but you swear you see the feathers individually relax. "you have no idea how fucking worried i was, pretty bird." his voice is muffled by the sheets, but you hear him clearly.

"pretty bird?" you voice your thoughts. if anything, he's the pretty bird here. you don't say that part.

there's a heavy silence before you feel a warmth entering your body. it's coming from where the two of you are connected by your hands. you're not sure how or why, but you feel tears start to build in your eyes as well. you let out a broken sob against your will.

confused and scared, you wrench your hand out of his grip, the two of you now upright and staring at each other with wild and hurt expressions. the pain in your head is threatening to make you black out.

"y/n?" the bird man calls, his feathery eyebrows knit together. "what's--?"

a million questions are running through your head, but only one manages to slip past your lips.

"who's y/n?"

at that moment, the doctor returns with a few nurses. they sort of push the bird man out the way with their doting over you, but you comply. they inject you with something and it makes the headache subside enough for you to relax your shoulders.

it's a crazy few minutes, but once the other doctors leave, it's just you and the two men from before left.

and boy, does he drop some news. (at least you figure by the bird man's reaction. you're just going through the motions here.)

"the villain in the attack had a memory wipe quirk." the bird man recounts easily. "at least that's what the heroes on the scene told me."

"and they were right. that particular person can wipe select memories from people they target. if you're caught in the crossfire though, there's no telling how much you could forget." the doctor looks at you then, his eyes sympathetic. "it would appear that y/n here was caught in that crossfire."

the bird man goes tense. you can see it. "so you're telling me that they--"

the doctor sighs. "y/n?"

you figure that he's talking to you. "is that what my name is? that's a pretty name." you muse. "but um... do you mind explaining who i am and why i'm here?"

you think that your question is innocent and well-placed, but the atmosphere says otherwise. the doctor turns away from you to look at the bird man.

"hawks, i understand that we are sworn to confidentiality with our patients, but i need you to tell me your relation to this person."

the bird man -- now designated as hawks -- looks between you and the doctor before leaning in and whispering the answer. you pout, wanting to know why exactly you couldn't head the answer.

the doctor seems shocked. "really? well, you have my word that no one will know. in any case, y/n here is actually fine. they were just hit with the stray attack. a few cuts because of broken glass, but nothing serious. they can actually go home in a day or two, but you need to take it slow with them. there's no telling what the memories could do to them. that is.. if they remember."

the "if" makes hawks clench his jaw. he looks at you, his expression unreadable. "thanks, doc." he seems to hesitate before sighing. "i'm actually going to go finish up some paperwork, so..." he doesn't take his eyes off you. "i'll be back. promise. see you in two days."

and just like that, you're alone again. you're alone with far more questions than answers.

the next two days are lonely, to say the least.

not all that lonely, you guess. nurses come in and even a hero nurse as well. she explains your quirk -- empathy.

through physical contact, you can feel the emotions of whomever you choose. you can also share what you feel with the person you touch. you suddenly remember when hawks held your hand. you may not have it under control, but at least you know what it is.

the day of your discharge comes, and hawks looks to be dreading this moment. like he's grappling with something. you figure that he's a hero and he must be antsy to get back to work. you offer him a reassuring smile when he shows up.

"if you're worried about me being in pain, trust me, the bandages are nothing, okay?" you try to cheer him up. it clearly doesn't work. he gives you a tight smile.

hawks doesn't say anything the entire way home.

he actually doesn't say much for days. it's mostly just strange looks and clenched jaws. he always avoids touching you.

you two don't live together, but as you spend time at home piecing together your memories, you notice that there's a lot of indication that you have a male partner.

you find big t-shirts and hoodies that personally don't ring a bell, but smell way too familiar. you find shampoo, conditioner and body soap that clearly don't belong to you, and even a jacket that looks a lot like--

after the second week of the silent treatment from hawks, you call him, clearly fed up.

he shows up in no time at all, as you expected. after doing some research, you learn that he's the number two pro hero. he's one of the fastest people in the world if he tries hard enough. him showing up at your apartment within minutes of contacting him wasn't surprising.

"you called?" he says as he lands on your balcony. the first words he's spoken to you since you were discharged. "is everything okay?"

you dump everything you found at his feet. you know you don't talk to any other men, and he's literally the only person you can think of. "what's this?" you ask.

you aren't sure why, but you're rather pissed.

hawks raises a brow at all of his stuff now at his feet. "why are you doing this?" he asks in response. he picks it up with a few feathers and guides everything back to their places. "what're you dumping your stuff on the floor for?"

"it's not my stuff! that's the problem! it's yours!"

you bring a hand to your head. "why are you everywhere? why are you so important to me? why won't you tell me anything?"

hawks just watches as you practically have a meltdown. you start to breathe heavily, but rather than say anything, he just extends a hand. you know what physical contact does, and you just look at him.

"just... touch me, y/n. activate your quirk." he has that serious look in his eye and a sad smile on his face.

you do as he says, and what you feel makes you recoil.

you feel... everything. you feel the late nights, the nausea that kept you up at night as you waited for hawks to come home. you felt the lazy sundays when you two would sing old classics and make breakfast. you felt the christmases you spent together, flying high in the chilly hair. you felt the fights, the kisses, the fleeting touches. you felt the infatuation, the love.

you look at hawks -- no, keigo -- wildly.

"what... what was that?" you ask breathlessly. "keigo, you--"

at the sound of his name, keigo just pulls you close to his chest. his feathers are shaking, and so are his shoulders.

"don't you remember?" he says after a minute. "tell me you remember, songbird. tell me you remember something -- anything."

you do. oh, you do. but it's so much to process.

"we clearly have some catching up to do, huh?" you mutter.

a dry chuckle. "yeah. yeah, we do."

you pull away from keigo, looking him in his now red eyes. ah, there he is, you think. there's the man you fell in love with.

"well, hi." you extend a hand. "my name is y/n. and yours?"

keigo sniffs and gives you a crooked grin. "the name's takami keigo, but you probably know me as hawks." he shakes your hand gently, his grin softening as he sees the way you can clearly feel his emotions. "don't tell anybody that though, please."

"your secret's safe with me, keigo."

#hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #my hero academia #takami keigo #y/n

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some-dr-writings · 4 years ago

Text

Gundham’s and Kazuichi’s mangaka S/O wants to draw them

Gundham Tanaka:

· Though you were the Super High School Level Mangaka you specialized in historical fantasy! You absolutely adored doing research and finding new mythical beasts and species to sketch and incorporate into your work. It was no surprise that Gundham became your muse the moment you two met!

· Gundham would allow you to visit his creatures and draw them to use as bases for cryptids and monsters of all sorts in your manga. The four Dark Devas often acted as your pose models given how unusually animated they were for hamsters.

· Having asked the Overlord of Ice to allow you near his animals so often you spent much time together and eventually started dating.

· “My Queen, the Stringer of Fates, what curse dares to plague your soul?! You’ve not touched the pages with which you create and destroy worlds, as if it were deadly to do so! You’ve yet to search out a demon to immortalize. Not even have you greeted the four Dark Devas of Destruction as you always have.” You huffed lazily watching the rabbit Gundham was currently grooming. “Artists’ block. I can’t seem to draw or write anything. Either I just stare at a blank page for hours, or I start something which quickly dissolves into an incoherent mess!” Rubbing your temples, you grumbled at the clogged feeling fogging your mind. “I did pull a few all-nighters last week. Maybe I’m just drained. But if things keep going like this, I’ll miss my deadline! I already asked for an extension on it last week, I can’t keep doing this!”

· Gundham watched as you picked up the sketch pad and pencil. There was this stiffness in your movements. Your hand which once flowed about gracefully like a bird in flight now paved plain straight lines. Your eyes darted about unable to focus on anything. “UGH! I can’t even draw a proper circle for the rabbit’s body!” Sinking into your seat you tossed your sketch pad and pencil aside. “Perhaps a day of respite is in order.” “No, I already took a day off yesterday. I feel I’m even worse now than I was two day ago.”

· The Devas quickly scurried over to you, hopping into your lap, or climbing onto your shoulder to nuzzle your cheek. “… thanks.” Gently petting the two in your lap you sighed in defeat.

· It was at that Gundham abruptly stood up. “Where is my Queen, and what have you done with her, villain?!” “… Huh?” “MY Queen would never rot away so quickly into a decrepit state such as this! She’d fight and claw till her final breath! She’d never faulter so easily!” “I Am, your Queen.” “Hmph! No, you are not. Now, tell me where she is.” You marched right up to Gundham glaring at him. “I’m right here! I am your Queen, the Stringer of Fates!”

· It started as a chuckle which boomed into uproarious laughter! “There you are. That determination, your will to live has returned to your eyes. I am glad to have you back.” Surprisingly, you did feel like you had more energy than before. “So, shall we be off? A piece of you is still missing and we must search it out less you start to fade away once more.” “… Yeah, a date sounds nice right now.”

· As a bright blush dusted his cheeks, the Overlord of Ice took your hand into his bandaged one, the other taking your bag of sketch supplies, he led you out of the school grounds into the great beyond!

· The day was filled with fun and laughter as you raced from place to place, doing anything you could think of. A walk in the park, a trip to the arcade, lunch at a café, shopping at a bookstore, and anything else you could have dreamed of.

· As the sun began to set, Gundham and you found yourselves at the clear beach, dancing around barefoot, not a care in the world. “… Gundham. Thank you, today was amazing.” His entire face instantaneously flushed hearing his true name being called. In that moment he just looked so beautiful to you. His sheepish smile, those tender eyes, just, everything about him.

· “May I draw you?” “… Of course, my Queen.”

· And thus you drew, having completely forgotten that morning or the past few days, you were struggling.

· “Ah! Your depiction captured my true form! I should have known you could see through my mortal guise!” He so happily admired your drawing with sparkling eyes.

· While he was distracted you worked on another piece, one of a dark king holding his queen close on the soft shores of the beach.

Kazuichi Soda:

· You never held much interest in machinery till you came to Hope’s Peak and met Kazuichi. It seemed just about every time you saw him, he was tinkering with something, from a small robot toy to a monster truck engine. Often times the parts of whatever he was working on were spread out, and then seeing how they all fit together fascinated you. Without realizing it you’d end up just watching him work for hours and sketching out the pieces and tools he was using.

· Quickly this fascination bled into your own work, incorporating steampunk-esque elements into it. And the more elements you added, the more references you needed. At first you tried getting some on your own, but you’d just end up injuring your hands and fingers in some way or you’d break the pieces.

· “Look, you got me into this mess and now you have to take responsibility.” “W-what!?” Before Kazuichi could panic you placed an old, rusted pocket watch before him. “How do I disassemble this!?” For a week or two after you’d bring some new item to Kazuichi to disassemble and reassemble. You eagerly sketched out the pieces you needed the references of and more.

· Quickly you and Kazuichi became friends. You would chatter away as you did your own things. Before you knew it the two of you ended up spending time together just to be together, no drawing and no tinkering.

· Kazuichi would go to you for advice for his unrequited crush on Princess Sonia to which you’d try your best to help, even if it did hurt a little given your crush on the mechanic. She wasn’t the only thing he spoke of though, so you had plenty of other conversations.

· Kazuichi certainly liked chatting so when one day he was quiet you got a bit worried… Then you remembered something. “Oh Soda. You’ve never been on a school trip before, right?” “Hmm, uh, yeah. I skipped out on the only one I got a chance to go on.” “Because of financial issues, right.” “Yeah.” “Well, I happen to be going on a trip all over Europe for background references and I was thinking who better to take along than my best friend and best mechanic I know!” The news certainly perked him right up, and he excitedly chattered on about traveling! Quickly the news spread, and it ended up becoming a class trip! Honestly, though a trip alone with Soda sounded lovely, you more enjoyed seeing how ecstatic he was to be going on an actual class trip with everyone.

· The trip was fantastic, it seemed to be nonstop fun. Often you’d forget that you were being payed to go on this trip for work and that you needed to get reference materials, thankfully Mikan took more than enough reference photos for you.

· Though during the trip, you noticed how Kazuichi, though still friendly, was a bit more reserved than usual. When you asked him what was wrong, he said he appreciated the concern, but it was something he had to work out on his own.

· Eventually your trip took you all to France the city of love. The place was certainly an artist’s dream, you found yourself drawing nonstop there. It was amazing!

· At one point in your trip your class wanted to get to a restaurant at the top of a rather large hill, but the only way to get there was via a thin road by car. So, you, Kazuichi, Sonia and your driver were the last to get to the restaurant.

· Then the car broke down. Kazuichi immediately went to check the engine while Sonia stood at the edge of the road, looking out at the sunset. It was a gorgeous sight, her profile, the sunset, the city lights, everything. You had started sketching out the scenery when a though struck you.

· You elbowed Kazuich, gaining his attention. You then leaned in real close while still looking at Sonia, not noticing the blush spreading on his cheeks as he kept looking to you. “Hey Soda, now’s your chance. This view is absolutely romantic, and you’re in the city of love. Don’t you think this is the perfect time to ask out the girl you like?” This hurt, it really did, but seeing how happy he was to be going on a school trip without worry like he always wanted, you could hardly imagine his joy if Sonia got together with him at a time like this. It hurt, but you just wanted to see him happy.

· “… Ask out the girl I like, huh…… Okay.”

· Turning to you he placed his hands atop your shoulders. “Y/N I have a crush on you. Please go out on a date with me.” “… Wait? I thought… what about Nevermind?” “I, well, yeah, I do like her, but… I really like you… I… That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out lately and... so I... You get it, don’t you!?” “… Soda, please let me draw you!” “Huh?” “Well, if we start going out, we’ll be boyfriend and girlfriend, right? I’d like to have something to commemorate the moment by.” “S/O!” He pulled you into a tight hug, giddy out of his mind.

· You ended up drawing him at the restaurant. He loved the drawing so much he took a picture to use as his phone’s lock screen. From then on you often drew him for references for poses and though all great, his favorite would forever be the first one you made of him. It was made to celebrate you getting together, it was always so special to him.

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refinedbuffoonery · 4 years ago

Text

Flawless (2)

masterlist.

Content Warning: swearing, violence, sex, PTSD

I’m really proud of this chapter. It’s some of my best work, maybe ever. Also, in case you missed, this fic will be updated every Sunday, so check back in next weekend for chapter three!

*****

“So,” Riley began as she dropped her arm-load of overflowing paper grocery bags on her slate gray granite kitchen counter. Mercifully, the feds hadn’t connected Riley to any of her aliases after her arrest, so her overpriced Santa Monica penthouse apartment was exactly as she left it.

Well, not exactly the same. After Riley’s arrest, Nikki had thrown out all her food and hung up the laundry Riley had left in a pile on her bedroom floor. She’d also paid Riley’s bills, which led to a whole argument in the grocery store that Riley knew they’d be rehashing later.

“If Leanna’s out, then we need a new member,” Riley said. “Otherwise we’ll have to rename the team ‘Four Eyes,’ and I’m not about to do that.”

Nikki snickered, haphazardly unloading groceries into the fridge. “Why not? You’re a nerd. It’s fitting.”

“Bold words for the only one of us who wears glasses.”

“They’re blue light glasses, you asshole. My vision is just fine.”

Riley gave her a shit-eating grin. Whatever you say.

Putting the groceries away took forever; Riley bought way more food than any one person needed. She couldn’t wipe Nikki’s disapproving face from her mind—the one that accompanied comments about Riley being too skinny. Nikki was just looking out for her, she knew, but that didn’t make Riley hate the scrutiny any less.

Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, Riley asked, “Do you have anyone in mind?” To replace Leanna, she didn’t need to say. Nikki chewed her lower lip nervously. “Who is it, Nik?”

“It’s a long shot, but this girl I work with. Jill Morgan.”

Riley frowned. “We don’t need a third techie.”

“She’s not that.” Riley raised an eyebrow. “I mean, she is, but Jill is nothing compared to you or me,” Nikki quickly corrected. “Before she got the IT job, Jill worked for LAPD as a forensic analyst.”

“I’m listening.”

“Apparently she is one of the best in all of SoCal, but LAPD fired her after someone caught her using evidence from a closed case to conduct research for the crime novel she’s writing. No police department would touch her after that, so she managed to swing the IT job in the most bullshit interview I’ve ever sat in on.” Nikki crossed her arms. “Jill obviously didn’t know how to do half the things she said she did, but she managed to convince our boss otherwise.”

“And let me guess.” Riley leaned on the counter. “You were so impressed with her ability to lie that you took her under your wing and taught her everything you know.”

Nikki grimaced. “Yeah.”

Barely stifling a snort, Riley said, “You never could resist a liar.” A low blow, considering the fate of her most recent relationship, but Nikki laughed it off.

“Want to meet her?”

Riley wasn’t sure this Jill girl would fill Leanna’s shoes, but if Nikki thought she had potential, then Riley had to give her the benefit of the doubt. For now, at least.

“Sure. I just have something I need to do first.”

*****

To his credit, the man standing before her wasn’t a coward, but Riley didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice or the way he flinched every time she moved. He was short—she had a couple inches on him in her high-heeled boots—and dressed like a Hollywood film industry wannabe. Judging by the film equipment stashed in the adjacent living room, he was one.

“Remind me of your name again,” Riley purred, leaning against the kitchen counter. Cleaning non-existent dirt from under her nails with a butcher knife, she looked like a female James Bond villain, with her sleek high-ponytail and dressed in black leather leggings and a tight, black tank top.

The man had been busy cooking dinner when she’d broken into the house, and Riley delighted in the way he cowered against the sink, brandishing a vegetable peeler as if he thought he could actually land a hit on her.

The old Riley would’ve worried about the man trying to attack her in some shoddy attempt at self-defense. The new Riley simply gave him an icy, feline smile to remind him of his place.

Maybe prison had been good for something after all.

She kept toying with the man, knowing full well what his name was. “Brian?” she mused. “Boxer?”

“Bozer,” the man said through gritted teeth. He had a white-knuckled grip on the sink’s edge, and Riley did her best not to sneer at the alcohol label stickers covering the stainless steel—perhaps the only decor choice trashier than the empty bottles lining the windowsill like a frat house. How Leanna could stand to date a man whose house looked like he majored in partying was beyond Riley. She certainly wouldn’t.

“Right,” she said.

Riley hadn’t expected Leanna to still live in LA after remaking her identity, and she was correct. According to her classified CIA file, Leanna had a nice apartment in Virginia, with a short twenty minute commute to Langley every day. Imagine Riley’s surprise when the file also disclosed Leanna had a long-distance boyfriend, right here in LA.

What Riley still didn’t understand was how a millennial could afford a house in the Hollywood Hills, but that was beside the point.

A little more digging through the CIA’s heavily encrypted files revealed orders sending Leanna to the City of Angels for two weeks to assist another agency. The orders failed to mention which one.

So, Riley waited for her friend, terrifying her clueless boyfriend to pass the time.

“What are you making?”

Bozer glared at her, pressing his full lips together. He was attractive enough, although he wasn’t Riley’s type. He seemed a little too domestic for her taste.

She chastised, “There’s no need to look at me like that, Bozer. I don’t bite.”

“Says the woman holding a freshly-sharpened knife.”

Riley examined the blade, gently brushing her thumb over it to confirm Bozer’s statement. “A sharp knife is a good thing, actually. Sharp knives make clean cuts.” Bozer’s throat bobbed under the intensity of her gaze. “It’s the dull ones you have to worry about.”

Before she could torment him any more, Riley heard the unmistakable sound of tumblers rolling over and the front door opening. A familiar voice called out, “Baby, I’m home!” Riley set the knife down and turned to greet her friend.

She noticed the physical changes immediately. Leanna’s hair was a lighter shade of brown than before. She had bangs now. Her posture was stiffer, more uptight, and Riley could just see hints of well-defined muscle beneath her friend’s navy pantsuit.

Upon seeing Riley, Leanna stopped dead in her tracks, eyes blown wide in surprise. “What are you doing here?” It sounded more like a threat than a question.

“No ‘Hi’? ‘How are you?’ ‘I missed you’?” Riley placed her hand on her chest in mock offense.

“You—” Leanna started. Her eyes flicked to her boyfriend, then back to Riley. He doesn’t know anything, the look said. “Let’s talk outside.” Without another word, Leanna gripped Riley’s elbow and led her through the back door.

The balmy night air smelled like jasmine and rotted oranges, and crickets harmonized above the distant hum of freeway traffic. Instead of having a backyard, a multi-level wooden deck spanned the entire backside of the house. Beyond the deck lay a wall of bushes and a sweeping view of downtown. Again, Riley thought there was no way a millennial could afford a house like this. Unless...was there more to Leanna’s boyfriend than met the eye?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Leanna said, leaning on the railing. Riley tried to catch her gaze to no avail. Leanna’s eyes were firmly on the city lights to the south. “Bozer is a normal guy. Harmless. The house belongs to his roommate, and the mortgage was paid off long ago when his roommate’s grandpa lived in it.”

The lingering hope that Leanna might not be as clean as Nikki suggested dwindled by the minute. Riley gave up on trying to meet her eye.

“How long have you been out?”

“Two days.”

“That’s...good.”

Riley hated how awkward this was. Once, Leanna had been her closest confidant. Now she couldn’t feel farther away.

“Did you enjoy terrorizing my boyfriend?” Leanna asked, mercifully lightening the mood. A small smile curved Riley’s lips.

“I started cleaning my nails with a knife so I’d look more intimidating, and he nearly shit his pants.”

Genuine laughter bubbled from Leanna’s throat. It was infectious, and within seconds Riley giggled too. It was almost enough to make her forget why she was here in the first place.

Almost.

Riley decided to just bite the bullet and get it over with. She spoke in a low, tentative voice. “Why’d you leave, Leanna?” Riley watched Leanna’s chest expand and collapse as she sighed deeply. She waited, giving Leanna time to think through her answer.

After a long pause, her friend finally said, “You, actually.”

“Me?”

“Watching that was one of the worst moments of my life.” Leanna kept her wording vague, in case her boyfriend was listening, but Riley didn’t need to ask what the ‘that’ referred to. That haunted Riley’s every waking moment for the last two years. “I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. Not when that was the cost.”

Riley furrowed her brow, not quite believing. “And yet your current job is better?”

Leanna laughed bitterly. “You got me there.” She ducked her head. “In all honesty though, it is different. I’m not close to my coworkers like I was to you.”

Was. Past tense. Riley frowned at the implications of that.

“You could come back, you know.”

Leanna scoffed. “Let me guess, Nikki found someone to replace me because you cooked up a new job, and now you’re here to drag me back just so you don’t have to deal with a weak link. Sound about right?” Riley pressed her lips into a thin line, refusing to dignify that with a response. “I’m done with that part of my life, Riley. And you should be too.”

“Agree to disagree.” Just like that, the last flickering bit of hope inside Riley was extinguished. “It was nice to see you again, Leanna,” she said softly. “I’ll show myself out.”

She made it as far as the stairs leading down into the house when Leanna called out, “Where?”

Riley offered her friend a sad smile. “Paris. Just like we always talked about.”

*****

The next day, Riley met Nikki and their new recruit for lunch at one of the sketchiest taco shops LA had to offer. They were already there when Riley arrived, standing in line to order and looking incredibly out of place in their nice business clothes. Nikki and the new girl were about the same height, and both wore their blonde hair in loose waves, but the new girl had wider hips and her shoulders caved in slightly, as if she were trying to make herself smaller.

Riley silently walked up behind them, grinning. “How’s it going?” The new girl jumped, glasses sliding down her nose. Nikki smirked, unfazed.

In fact, she didn’t even bother taking her eyes off the ridiculously extensive menu as she chastised, “Play nice, Riles.”

Even though Nikki couldn’t see her, Riley rolled her eyes anyway. “You’re no fun.”

The new girl watched Riley with apprehension. Jill. Her name was Jill.

Riley extended a hand. “I’m Riley.”

“Jill,” she squeaked. Her grip was feather-light as they shook hands. She’s shy, Riley noted. Shy wasn’t a good trait in a criminal.

Neither was jumping to conclusions, however. Riley had promised to give Jill a fair shot, and that meant taking time to get to know her.

Riley let the blondes go first before ordering a California burrito for herself. There were only two booths—every good taco place was the size of a broom closet, after all—and Nikki led them to the one further from the entrance. She and Jill sat on one side, while Riley slid into the other, her back to the door. Riley couldn’t remember a time she and Nikki didn’t do that—sitting on opposite sides of the table, one facing each exit, just in case.

She doubted anyone would come after them in a dingy taco shop, but slipping into old habits brought a calming sense of normalcy Riley loathed to admit she needed.

“So,” Riley addressed Jill directly. “Did Nikki fill you in on what we do?”

“A bit, yes.” Jill’s eyes flicked around the room warily. Riley wished Leanna or Cage were there to psychoanalyze her. Jill was clearly nervous, but she didn’t seem afraid. Confidence Riley could teach. What Jill needed to prove was that she could hold her own against some of the biggest egos in the Western Hemisphere.

Present company definitely included.

“Good,” Riley said. “I want to be very clear on something. We are not Robin Hood. We do it for the adrenaline and the money.” Riley’s gaze flicked to the thousand-dollar watch on Nikki’s left wrist. “Although, none of us need the money anymore.”

“Then why don’t you get your adrenaline fix somewhere else?” Jill questioned bravely. “Maybe pick up skydiving.” There it was—the spark Riley was looking for.

“We all have our own deeper, more personal reasons. But me?” Riley leaned closer. “I do it just to see if I can.”

“One day, you’re going to be caught. You know that right?”

Riley’s stomach dropped. It seemed Nikki had left out some key information. Riley forced herself to grin as she said, “Maybe, but that day isn’t today.” The cashier called out their order number, and Riley retrieved their food before launching into her interrogation. “What I need to know now is what you can do for me.” She consumed her burrito in classless, ravenous bites, uncaring what Jill thought of her table manners. Each bite tasted like heaven.

Jill’s eyebrow twitched, that spark flaring up again. “How would you like to never leave a fingerprint ever again?” She casually bit into her taco.

“And how would I do that?” Riley probed. Nikki’s attention flicked between the two, observing, listening.

Not even bothering to swallow her food first, Jill said, “I’ve met plenty of your type before—” Riley took note of her careful use of innuendo— “and I’m not dumb enough to give away that kind of information for free. If you want it that badly, you’ll pay me.”

Riley pocketed that key detail for later. “Out of curiosity, what would you use the money for?”

“Paying off my student loans.”

Riley nodded. She’d never gone to college, but she had the utmost respect for anyone who drowned themselves in debt for the sake of an education. In addition to that, Jill was smart, not easily swindled, and responsible—all traits Riley was looking for.

The bell tied to the restaurant door jingled when it opened, letting in a hot gust of summer air. Two men entered; one was about Riley’s age, with blonde surfer hair. The other was older—fifty maybe—and he scanned the room the same way she’d seen Desi do a million times, but it was the blonde one Riley focused on as he froze, eyes locking on the women.

More specifically, on Nikki.

“Time to go,” Nikki warned. She shoved Jill out of her seat and dragged her toward the back door. In their haste, Nikki and Jill left their remaining tacos on the table, but Riley clutched her half-eaten burrito as she ran after them.

For the moment, Riley didn’t care who these men were. All she cared about was getting them off her tail.

She paid no mind to the cook shouting as she hauled ass through the kitchen. Riley spied an apron hanging off a doorknob, and an idea clicked into place. She grabbed it, turned on the gas stove, and held the fabric in the flames until it ignited. The blonde man skidded around the corner. Riley threw the flaming apron, and her feet carried her away before it even hit him.

Nikki and Jill were already out the back door and waiting in the alley when Riley caught up.

“You two didn’t happen to drive here, did you?” Nikki and Jill shook their heads.

Jill asked, “Did you?”

Riley shot Nikki a glare that could’ve curdled milk. “I would’ve, if someone hadn’t put my car in storage and then been too lazy to get it back. But noooooooooo, I had to take an Uber.”

“Shut up,” Nikki growled at the same time Jill questioned, “Storage?”

Ignoring Jill’s glaring lack of information, Riley grimaced. “Then I guess we’re running.” She took off down the alley, Nikki and Jill at her heels. Over her shoulder, Riley said, “I really hope I’m wrong here, but was that who I think it was?”

Nikki groaned. “Unfortunately.”

“Is someone going to fill me in?”

“My ex.”

“Oh.”

Before they even reached the main street, both Riley and Nikki had broken a sweat, but Jill kept pace alongside them like it was nothing—wearing stilettos, no less.

Perhaps Riley had underestimated Jill.

Shouting erupted behind them. The men were closing the distance between them, despite the blonde one being too busy fiddling with something in his hands to watch where he was going. The three women ran faster.

“What the hell is he doing?” Riley hissed.

“You know how we hack computers? He hacks everything else.”

A bullet pinged off the alley wall. “Perfect.”

The main street wasn’t as crowded as Riley had hoped. There was far too little coverage to hide from...whatever these men were. Nikki had some explaining to do when they got home.

They ran one block before another alley divided the storefronts. First glancing over her shoulder to ensure the men hadn’t turned the corner on the main road yet, Riley pulled her companions into the alley. It was empty aside from a large, faded black dumpster. Riley’s stomach churned at what she was about to suggest, but now was not the time to be picky about solutions.

“In the dumpster,” she ordered. “Now.”

Nikki and Jill made pained faces, but neither argued. They tossed Jill in first, then Riley gave Nikki a boost. Yanking her phone from her back pocket, Riley quickly opened a FaceTime call with Nikki and hid her phone beneath the dumpster before climbing inside and closing the lid over their heads.

The women waited in silence.

The smell was nauseating, and trash bags squished under Riley’s combat boots. Her boots were going directly in the trash when she got home, favorite pair be damned. She might very well toss her cutoff jean shorts and tank top too. Any article of clothing that touched garbage fluid was not going on her body ever again.

Nikki dutifully studied their makeshift security camera feed. The dumpster muffled outside sounds too much for Riley to listen for the heavy footsteps of their pursuers. Jill mercifully knew to refrain from making any sort of noise. At least she won’t get us killed, Riley thought.

When Nikki finally signaled that the coast was clear, Riley breathed a deep sigh of relief she immediately regretted. Gagging, she desperately shoved the dumpster lid open and clawed her way to fresh air, doing her best not to vomit. She’d already sacrificed the uneaten half of her burrito to the dumpster. Riley wasn’t about to give up the half she’d already swallowed too.

Nikki wasn’t so lucky.

Jill held back her coworker’s hair, rubbing her back in smooth circles. She didn’t seem affected by the smell at all. When she noticed Riley starting, Jill explained, “I’ve dug through dumpsters filled with half-decomposed bodies. A plain old trash dumpster is nothing.”

Riley could only nod and offer her a queasy half-smile.

Retrieving her phone, she called Desi and begged the woman to pick them up, conveniently leaving out the part about the dumpster. When she was done, Riley turned to Jill. “I want you on my team. Take the rest of the day off from work and think about my offer. There’s a team meeting at my apartment tonight. If you’re in, have Nikki pick you up on her way. The choice is yours.”

#beth writes #flawless au #macgyver #riley davis #nikki carpenter #leanna martin #desiree nguyen #samantha cage #jill morgan #macgyver fanfiction

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thebibliomancer · 4 years ago

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #237: Meltdowns and Mayhem

November, 1983

Pandemonium at Project Pegasus!

Oo, that might have been a better title! It’s just fun to say! Meltdowns and Mayhem is good too. And mayhem and pandemonium really does describe the cover.

Its one of those big mishmash fight covers. Just a big confusing scrum. And Wasp yelling at She-Hulk for some reason. Yeah, I dunno.

Hey, Spider-Man is still pretty front and center so this is still the Spider-Man Guest Stars, starring the Avengers book.

Oh, and the cool new logo is still here so I guess its the new thing. Rad.

Last time on Avengers: Spider-Man decided he was going to join the Avengers because money. He stowed away when the Avengers were called to an emergency situation at Project Pegasus, which turned out to be lava men. Captain Marvel’s presence accidentally released Nova villain Blackout who freed Moonstone. On her say so, he also freed Rhino and Electro. Captain Marvel also managed to resolve the lava men situation since they for some reason worship her as the prophesied savior the Lady-of-Light.

Avengers lead interesting lives.

This time on Avengers:

Captain Marvel tells the lava men to go home.

And they do.

Spider-Man grouses that he gets no respect from lava men. I’m not sure why he was expecting any?

Cap(tain America) has been briefing Plain Michael O’Brien - the once (and future? when he stops sulking?) Guardsman - on the situation re: the lava men invasion being a big misunderstanding.

Project Pegasus accidentally sent a magma tap right into the lava men village. Common mistake, could have happened to anyone. But O’Brien promises the magma tap will be moved.

Elsewhere in the facility, Moonstone’s quirky quartet watch Cap, O’Brien, and the lava men make peace. With different reactions.

Rhino doesn’t think its a big deal because he wants to pound ‘em. Electro is more hesitant because the Avengers outnumber them as is AND have Spider-Man and Spider-Man pretty consistently kicks his and Rhino’s asses.

Rhino still doesn’t care.

But if Electro doesn’t want to do the superhero fight then he can guard the rear and keep an eye on Blackout who Rhino doesn’t trust anymore than he would Spider-Man.

Because since Blackout is so new a villain (only previous appearance an issue of Nova), Rhino hasn’t heard of him. AND ISN’T IT CONVENIENT THAT A VILLAIN HE’S NEVER HEARD OF RELEASED HIM FROM HIS CELL SAME DAY THE AVENGERS SHOWED UP?

Pretty suspicious.

Blackout is hyperbolic and has a persecution complex even by the standards of supervillains.

Blackout: “How dare you accuse me of such a thing!! You’re just like all the rest! You’re against me... All of you!”

He uses his vague powers to encase Rhino in “solid black-light” and then waxes melodramatic.

I mean look at this shit.

Electro’s reaction to this in-fighting is more on the lines of scoffing at all this nonsense comic book science compared to his super cool normal electricity powers.

Electro: “Solid light? Black-star power? Moonstone, what’s he talking about? Anyone who’s had even a grade-school science education knows that he’s spouting gibberish! Black-light is just ultraviolet...”

Moonstone: “... And what he controls is much more. Yes, I know... But I don’t think that he fully knows.”

Wow. Co-villains be snarkin’.

Also, while Blackout continues monologuing about how anyone that stands against him will be merged with the light spectrum (???), Rhino just breaks out of the solid black-light, grabs Blackout, and goes to bounce Blackout against the wall until he blacks out.

But Moonstone and Electro separate the idiots and reminds them that they should be more mad at the Project Pegasus scientists who imprisoned them.

AND MOONSTONE HAS A PLAN, of course.

Back two levels down where the lava men plot is still wrapping up.

The lava men have gathered around the magma pit with the lead lava men chanting for the powers of earth to carry them home if they could kthx.

Spectating Spider-Man: This is screwy! He just keeps chanting and waving his arms over the trashed opening to the old magma pit, like he was some second-rate Dr. Strange! What’s he think he’s going to accomplish?

And then the earth blasts magma up from the pit and whisks the the lava men away home to Spider-Man’s great incredulity.

I mean, sure, the Avengers’ lives are weird but is this really weirder than your own life, Spidey?

Just a few years before this comic, Amazing Spider-Man #2 had to be retconned so you wouldn’t have dealt with aliens in only your second issue. Your life is weird!

Anyway, since the lava men are gone, Wasp decides its time to rip Spider-Man a new one for stowing away and interfering with Avengers’ business.

Spider-Man: “I’m sorry, Wasp. I...”

Wasp: “Sorry?! Is that all you can say for yourself? Well, I should hope you’re sorry! You might have sacrificed our entire mission!”

Spider-Man: I really blew it this time! “I only meant to help, Wasp. I just wanted to show you that I’d make a good Avengers... But I guess you’d never consider me for membership now, huh?”

Wasp: “I didn’t say that! If you promise not to ever do anything this rash again, we’ll see what we can do about making you an Avengers-in-training!”

(Good to see Wasp got over her inexplicable ‘ew spiders are gross’ phase from the 60s)

Much excitement until Spider-Man remembers that he didn’t want to be an in-training and protests what would he even need training for?

Captain America: “Well, for one thing, to learn how to follow orders!”

Hah!

Its like a criticism sandwich. ‘You almost fucked everything up!’ ‘But we still want you to join us.’ ‘But you need to learn teamwork dammit!’

I’ll give Spidey credit, after I was a bit rude last time, that he has learned to take criticism between the time in Amazing #1 and now. He didn’t immediately jump out a window rather than face embarrassment at fucking up. Part of that is probably that he’s underground in a government facility and there’s no good place to run away but still, some of it has to be growth.

Scarlet Witch backs Cap up that all the Avengers had to learn how to work together as a unit.

Wasp and Cap also mention that if he becomes an Avenger, he can keep his private life private but no secret superpowers. The Avengers need to know what each other can do in a pinch.

This is news to Starfox who begins musing about his own SECRET SUPERPOWER (which I’m pretty sure I’ve spilled the beans on repeatedly already). Since there hasn’t been a situation where his SECRET POWER would have been useful, he just hasn’t mentioned it but not wonders whether he should just tell the other Avengers or maybe lean into the omission and keep not mentioning it forever.

I feel option 2 isn’t a great idea but, hey, you do you spaceman.

Anyway, Spider-Man agrees that telling them about his cool powers is a fair trade for becoming an Avenger. And seriously, he’s prone to explain his powers at the drop of a hat anyway so this is no kind of huge task.

Wasp decides that they should return to the mansion so they can get this wrapped up and O’Brien shows the Avengers the cool and not at all dangerous vortex beam transport tube.

The vortex beam propels the passengers up and is apparently susceptible to irony. Because as soon as Spider-Man asks what would happen if the power went out, the beam fails and the Avengers start plummeting twenty stories.

Thankfully, Captain Marvel, Wasp, and Starfox can fly and Spider-Man catches the rest in a web net after catching himself against the wall of the tube.

Maybe stick to elevators and stairs, Project Pegasus.

But O’Brien protests that there are hundreds of failsafes and automatic safety systems that would have had to fail for them to plummet even if the vortex beam lost power.

This was SABOTAGE.

On Wasp’s order, She-Hulk punches them an egress into the side of the tube.

O’Brien gets over to a security monitor and discovers the breakout. The guy on the other end of the monitor informs him that the four escaped prisoners are on their way to the nuclear research dome.

Wouldn’t you know it! The Avengers just left and now they have to head back.

They find that the doors to the dome have been melted and Starfox and She-Hulk have to KRA-THOOM them open to pieces.

Spider-Man: Geez, next to those two, I feel like a 98-pound weakling!

Unfortunately, its one impediment after another. Past the doors into the dome, there’s a big black wall that’s not supposed to be there.

Spider-Man tries climbing it but slides right down, to his bafflement.

Spider-Man: “I can climb a wall of teflon if I have to! What’s this thing made of?”

She-Hulk tries punching it and finds that it breaks just fine but when she BAMs a hole in it, Electro zaps her with electricity through it. And the hole seals up when Spider-Man tries to web Electro.

Moonstone starts broadcasting through a monitor so she can gloat that her boys and her have taken over the nuclear research dome which means they’re in control of the whole project and the Avengers (plus Spider-Man) can’t do a thing to stop them.

And as a pretty vehement gtfo, Electro juices up with a backpack connected to the dome’s nuclear generator and electrifies the black wall.

So now the Avengers can’t even try to punch through.

Wasp: “Dangerous or not, we still have to get through and stop this madness! That wall has to come down... and you’re the one best equipped to handle that -- Wanda!”

And her probability borking powers are, as ever, a good do anything button.

Its not very probable for Blackout’s barrier to break down but it does! And its not probable for the electricity on the barrier to discharge into Electro but wouldn’t you know it, Wanda waved her hands a certain way and its happening!

Supervillains hate her. Her one weird trick for doing heroics.

But with the barrier down, Rhino charges the Avengers (plus Spider-Man), bowling over Starfox who was probably momentarily baffled to see a man dressed as a rhino charging him.

Captain Marvel dodges Rhino in her light form only to be immediately captured in a bubble by Blackout.

Alas, she had such a good showing this issue. I guess Stern decided that some other people needed time to look cool.

Spider-Man jumps on Rhino while he bowls through the Avengers and Starfox punches Blackout in the head for capturing Monica.

Blackout: “You think you can intimidate me just because you can fly?! Well, you’re wrong! Wrong! Blackout can also defy gravity!”

Starfox: “A challenge! Marvelous!”

Blackout sure is something. Like I said, even for a supervillain, he sure is something.

But its funny how Blackout and Starfox are on completely different wavelengths.

Electro recovers from getting Wanda’d and goes to fry Spider-Man but Cap(tain America) throws his mighty shield and severs the cord giving him extra juice.

Spider-Man, webbing the cord so its not a hazard: “Thanks for the quick save, Cappy!”

Captain America: “Don’t mention it, son! That’s just teamwork in action!”

It’s a teachable moment. Cap-style.

Electro tries to fry Cap for interfering but Cap’s mighty shield blocks... the... electricity. Okay, its metal though. Where is the charge going??

Scarlet Witch comes to ruin Electro’s day twice-over and waves her do-anything hands at him.

He scoffs that nothing happened and then immediately passes out.

Cap: “Wanda? What the blazes did you do to him?”

Scarlet Witch: “Basically, I tried to make all the carbon dioxide in the room cluster around his head, so he’d pass out from temporary lack of oxygen. Looks like it worked!”

Cap: “Uh... yes!”

Cap’s thinking ‘damn Wanda, you’re scary.’

The thing about do-anything powers like Wanda’s is that she really should be able to shut down most opponents like this but she probably won’t do this very often because it would be boring.

Meanwhile, Spider-Man blindfolds Rhino with webbing and lets him ram through a wall.

Rhino: “A few inches of steel don’t mean anything to me!”

She-Hulk: “Is that so? Well, how about a few knuckles of She-Hulk? Does that mean anything? Hmmph! I guess it does!”

I mean, you didn’t have to phrase it that way but good job, She-Hulk! You punched him in his rhino face.

And it was more good teamwork from Spidey. He set ‘em up, She-Hulk knocked ‘im down.

Also meanwhile, Captain Marvel is fed up with not being able to escape Blackout’s globe. And, hey, nice touch, from the outside we can see that the globe is wholly opaque so yes, it would be impenetrable to the visible light spectrum.

And no matter what energy she tries, she can’t get out. But she does a force-blast and that does bust the globe.

Whiiiiich distracts Starfox as he chases Blackout around the room and Blackout takes advantage of the distraction to blast Starfox.

Captain Marvel: “You devil! I’ll get you for that!”

Blackout: “Get me? Yes, you all try -- don’t you? You’re all out to get me!”

In this situation? Yes they are! Ya goof.

In the control room, Moonstone knows that Rhino, Electro, and Blackout don’t stand a chance to beat the Avengers but all she needs is for them to be a distraction while she uses the controls.

Wasp flies in but too late. Moonstone blasts not Wasp but the control panel.

Her plan all along was to destroy Project Pegasus for daring to study her powers like she was some kind of lab rat. And with the controls destroyed, she’s confidant that the Avengers won’t be able to stop what she started.

She blinds Wasp by doing a taiyoken with her chest and then flees out the evacuation exit, gloating that Project Pegasus is about to get very unpleasant.

What a goof.

Blackout also takes the opportunity to escape, sealing the exit behind him with one of his black light constructs.

Captain Marvel starts to blast through but Wasp tells her that there’s no time to chase supervillains right now, the reactor is going critical.

Spider-Man: “Critical? Is someone being critical again?”

Wasp: “This is no joking matter, Spider-Man! Moonstone’s left the reactor in an awful state!”

Spidey seriouses up immediately and goes to take a look, commenting that he has a little scientific training.

Oh, hey, another great reason to have Spider-Man join the team. He can be the new science guy and Starfox can get back to being the flirt. Everyone would be happier then.

And then Spidey even more seriouses up.

Spider-Man: “Moonie pulled all of the damping rods out of the power core! If we can’t get them back in place, we’ll have a meltdown that’ll leave the entire project uninhabitable for the new hundred-thousand years!”

Geez, Moonstone! You don’t half-ass revenge!

Moonstone broke the controls so they can’t just plunk the damping rods back into place. Wanda’s do-anything powers could do it, if she wanted to melt before she could do it.

Apparently her powers are reliant on direct line-of-sight (even though that doesn’t gel with when she fought the Wizard recently) but the radiation levels are so high in the reactor that she doubts even She-Hulk would survive it.

But Captain Marvel could.

Radiation wouldn’t affect her energy forms and she can get into the reactor through the circuity in the control room.

Spider-Man gets on a microphone and tries to walk Captain Monica through what she needs to do.

She needs to cut through all five supports on the damping rod assembly. If the assembly doesn’t fall as a unit, NUCLEAR DISASTER.

Captain Marvel zips about as a laser, I guess, cutting through the supports. One isn’t cut through all the way through, giving Spider-Man a startle, but Monica zips about lightspeed and finishes cutting through, allowing the assembly to fall into place with a WHUNK.

Spider-Man: “The reactor’s shutting down. Uh.. Can someone help me get my heart restarted?”

Ha, I like Cap(tain America)’s ‘whew’ gesture.

Y’know, the selling point of this arc seems to be ‘HEY LOOK SPIDER-MAN IS HERE’ but its been more of a Captain Marvel focused story. She resolves the lava man situation and she has a ‘this looks like a job for Aquaman’ moment with the reactor too.

Still, Spidey pulled his weight. He c-c-c-combo’d Rhino with She-Hulk. His spider-sense came in handy. And he got to be a science guy since Starfox was knocked out.

I tend to be iffy on Spider-Man as an Avenger overall but heck, lets have him on the team!

Later, after Spider-Man’s heart gets restarted and everyone has returned to the Mansion, Cap and Wasp call the Government (specifically their liaison Mr. Sikorski who doesn’t want to be here and hates dealing with superheroes. Its frankly amazing that Gyrich’s understudy is a worse Avengers liaison than him) to request clearance for Spider-Man to become a new trainee Avenger.

And over slightly to the left, presumably off-camera from the call Wasp and Cap are having, Spider-Man ponders whether this is actually something he wants.

He still doesn’t like the idea of being treated as a rookie. He’s been superheroing since he was in high school and darnit, he’s dropped out of grad school by this point! And he doesn’t know whether he’s a good fit for a team at all.

But on the other hand, he’s got a thousand good reasons (a week) to join. I’m sorry, I typed reasons, I meant dollars.

But what Spider-Man does and does not want becomes a bit moot as Mr. Sikorski shoots the idea down flat.

Mr. Sikorski: “Spider-Man?! Are you out of your minds? We have a file on him that’s a yard long -- and it still doesn’t tell us a blasted thing about him! The man’s a major security risk! No! I absolutely forbid it!”

God. He even wags his finger at Cap and Wasp.

The nerve.

The unmitigated gall.

Spider-Man takes this with all due sour grapes.

Spider-Man: “They’ll okay, Starfox -- a guy from outer space -- but my own government won’t approve me?”

Yeah, that’s a good point!

Cap offers to go over Mr. Sikorski’s head by going right to the president (which in FAIRNESS is kinda how Starfox got on the team) but Spider-Man tells Cap not to bother.

I’d guess a combination of bruised pride and ‘oh thank god now I don’t have to make a decision, I just get to be indignant about it.’

Spider-Man: “Naw, don’t put yourself out, Cap! Me joining the Avengers was a dumb idea anyway! But I’ll tell you one thing... my Congressman is definitely gonna hear about this!”

Sad Starfox with an icepack on his head: “Congressman? What on Earth is a Congressman?”

Hah.

Also, the tiny next issue box promises UNLIMITED VISION which is definitely not ominous at alllll.

So! Not a bad two-parter by any means! It is a shame that Spider-Man can’t join the Avengers, because of the government and probably writers and editorial, he has a fun dynamic with the team.

But in these times where Marvel tried to keep things consistent in the shared universe, a big guy with his own book like Spider-Man would be difficult. I mean, they’ve only recently written out Thor and Iron Man for having troubles in their own books and Spider-Man is constantly having trouble in his book.

Your time will come eventually, Spidey.

Follow @essential-avengers because maybe one day I’ll get to the point where Spider-Man is a reserve member. Also like and reblog because I like to feel liked.

#avengers #Moonstone #Rhino #Electro #Blackout #Spider Man #Captain Marvel #Monica Rambeau #Scarlet Witch #the Wasp #She Hulk #Captain America #Starfox #Essential Avengers #essential marvel liveblogging #so monica became the chosen one of lava people and stopped a nuclear meltdown in one day #that's a productive day #Spider Man wasn't MVP but he did a good job #Starfox doesn't know how democracy works

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alexiessan · 5 years ago

Text

Never alone - Chapter Five - Soulmate AU

AO3

Previous - Here - Next

Master List

Thank you everyone for your feedbacks!

It makes me really happy to see that you like this story and motivates me to write.

Which is why you get two chapters this week!

Getting to know each other turned out to be pretty easy. Not only did the soulmate magic made them be at ease for each other, but Marinette made it a game out of it. The first game was a classic twenty questions, where they each got twenty questions to ask each other.

Robin was grateful that his soulmate didn’t ask for any too personal questions. She asked him if he had siblings but didn’t ask how many nor for their name. She asked for his favorite color, his favorite meal, his favorite kind of music. She asked for his pass time and favorite TV shows.

For each question they asked, the other would also answer. And thus, he told her how much he loved animals, that he had a dog, a cat, and a cow, and he was a vegetarian ever since he adopted said cow. He told her that he loved to read and to draw, and promised to show her one of his drawings after she nicely asked.

Then, she turned the game into two truths and a lie. And this one made him smile as he had done some crazy things as Robin which made it hard for her to figure out which one was the lie.

Then again, he was also surprised by some of the things she had done.

There was more to Marinette than it first appeared.

They stayed on the roof until five in the morning, only stopping because the blue-eyed girl was starting to fall asleep mid-sentence. So he took her in his arms and took her back to the window of her hotel room where they promised in a whisper to meet at the same time that night.

After four hours of talking, Robin was satisfied as he felt like he knew Marinette better than some people he had known for longer.

That’s probably what happens when you actually put effort into knowing someone, he mused as he got home.

Right as he got out of his uniform and prepared himself to go to bed to catch at least an hour of sleep, he remembered that he had to do a little bit of research about his soulmate.

Not to stalk her or to know everything about her by checking her background. But the feeling that he had seen her before didn’t disappear at all that night, and he wouldn’t be at peace until he knew why.

So he went to the Batcave, empty at this hour of the night, or rather, this early in the morning. As he sat at the computer and typed Marinette’s full name, he discovered that there was already a file on her.

This meant that his family had made some research about her prior to their meeting.

Upon opening the file, he cursed himself for not connecting the dots.

Back when Hawkmoth started to terrorize the city of Paris and Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared to fight against him, Batman had Red Robin investigating the matter.

He wanted to know who was behind the masks of the heroes and the villain, especially since the duo of heroes seemed to be made of children.

While magic was involved in the matter, it didn’t mix well with technology, so Tim had tried to run a facial recognition for the heroes, hoping the magic wouldn’t work on technology.

Unfortunately, Hawkmoth was the kind of guy to act from the shadows and there wasn’t any picture of him anywhere on the internet.

It took a good week, as Paris had millions of people, but they eventually got a result.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was Ladybug and Adrien Agreste was Chat Noir.

Both were only thirteen when they first began their job as superheroes, and no adult was ever seen by their side.

It was also obvious that none of them had any training and were only trusting their instincts. Odds were that they were literally thrown into the superhero business without their consent and, most likely, without any proper explanation.

Damian remembered that he had rarely seen his father and his brothers so mad about something that didn’t have anything to do with the Joker. Batman had then called the Justice League of Europe himself, demanding to know why children were playing superheroes when it was their job, but was then asked nicely to mind his own business back in America and that Paris was not under Batman’s jurisdiction.

There was nothing they could do to help the two heroes, but they had been keeping tabs on the situation in Paris.

That explained why Marinette was not as awkward as she should have been with the “my soulmate has a secret identity” issue. She knew better than to ask personal questions since she herself had a secret identity to protect.

Damian sighed, massaging his temples. He didn’t want to keep too many secrets from Marinette. While he knew there were some things he wouldn’t talk about for some time — his childhood — and he wouldn’t reveal his identity before long, he still didn’t feel like keeping the fact that he knew her identity would be a good way to start any kind of relationship with her.

He would have to tell her when he’ll see her tonight.

Looking at the time on the computer, the youngest Wayne sighed.

So much for catching some sleep.

And he still had to have a conversation with his father.

Despite having only an hour of sleep that night, Marinette managed to wake up at six sharp, even before Alya.

Never before has she been in such a good mood after waking up so early and with only an hour of sleep.

It was a good thing that she got up before her friend too, as she had to figure out how to put contacts on.

“So, I get it that it went well last night?”

Marinette looked up from the little box of contacts, from which she was reading the instructions. She smiled at Tikki, who was looking at her with a knowing smile.

“Yeah, it went well. Sorry I didn’t take you with me.”

Tikki shrugged.

“It was probably better that way. He’s not a civilian, one small error from me and he would have you figured out.”

“We talked for hours. I was at peace with him, it felt like I knew him already and after we talked, it feels like I’ve known him way longer.”

The tiny god smiled.

“That’s part of the soulmate magic. You’ll always feel at ease with each other and the most time you spend together right after your meeting, the more you’ll feel like it. Do you know if your bond is a platonic or a romantic one?”

The designer winced as she poked her eye trying to put the contact on.

“That’s harder than it seems.” She tried once more before answering, “Well, I think Robin is very attractive.”

Which was exactly what told you if your bond is romantic or not. The bond didn’t make you instantly love your soulmate, no, those feelings would develop at your own pace, but instant attraction was the key to know whether a bond is platonic or not.

You’re attracted to your soulmate? The bond is romantic.

You’re not attracted to your soulmate? The bond is platonic.

It’s as simple as that.

“It’s a romantic one, then! I’m so happy for you Marinette!”

“Thank you, Tikki.” the designer smiled.

They were silent then, Tikki enjoying a cookie and the black-haired girl still trying to put the contact on.

It took approximately ten tries before she finally put it on, and just as Alya was knocking on the bathroom’s door.

“Are you almost done?”

The baker’s daughter opened the door with the brightest smile she couldn’t manage.

“It’s all yours!”

The journalist giggled.

“Well, aren’t you happy?”

“I’m always happy, Alya! Come on, now. Go take a shower and change, I can’t wait for today’s visit!”

When Damian came home from school that day, he went straight to bed to take a good nap before dinner. He had done his homework during the day so he could have the evening entirely free. If he wanted to announce to his family that he met his soulmate during dinner, it would be after he was well-rested.

No way was he dealing with that when he was half asleep.

It’s Titus who woke him up twenty minutes before dinner, barking behind his door, probably wanting to be let out outside.

He took the dog outside, playing with him and petting him for a while before Alfred came to tell him that dinner was ready.

After washing his hands, he joined his father and his brothers at the table, wondering how he should bring up the topic of meeting his soulmate.

Turned out, he didn’t have to worry as Dick brought it up himself.

“So, Damian, don’t you have something to share with the family?”

It was enough to silence them all.

Jason raised a brow.

“Something’s wrong, demon spawn?”

The green-eyed boy sighed, putting his fork down.

“Nothing’s wrong, Todd. It’s just…” he turned to look at his father. “I met my soulmate last night. As Robin.”

It was silent once again until Jason let out a low whistle.

“Damn, that’s news. Wonder how she is.”

“She’s such a cutie!” exclaimed Dick.

Bruce cleared his voice.

“I see. It’s a little problematic that you met her under your alias, but… Congratulations, Damian.”

“So that’s why you came back at five in the morning.” mused Tim.

“Come on, tell us about her little D.”

The youngest sighed. They would meet her eventually, so it was better to give them the information they were seeking.

“She’s a French student here on a trip for your Career Program, father.”

“She’s from the winning class that will be interning next week, then?”

Damian nodded.

“I’ve run a background check on each of them. Ladybug and Chat Noir are among them.”

Tim frowned. “Will Paris be alright with them away?”

“They must have a plan to keep Paris safe, they wouldn’t leave just like that.”

Damian took a deep breath.

“About that… My soulmate’s name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Dick’s, Tim’s and Bruce’s eyes visibly widened and Jason let out a snort.

“Figured your soulmate would be a hero.”

“At least, that means she’s understanding about your identity, right?” asked Dick.

The young heir nodded.

“I see. Will you tell her that you know about her identity?” asked his father.

“I will. If I want us to start on the right foot, it’s the best thing to do. She understands that I have to keep my identity a secret, but it’s another thing to know hers and to keep it a secret.”

Bruce nodded, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“You’ve grown, Damian.”

Damian could feel his ears go red from his father’s praise.

“I know that you can’t keep your identity a secret from her forever but… I trust you to wait until you completely trust her before you do tell her, and telling us beforehand, as once she knows about you, it won’t be hard for her to figure out ours.”

“Of course, father.”

Dinner then went as usual, until they all stood up after finishing and his father came to him, giving him an unexpected and somewhat awkward hug.

“I’m happy for you.”

As he saw his brothers smile at him from behind his father, Damian thought that, maybe, from now on, he could talk a little more to his family.

One step at a time, though.

They agreed with his father that he wouldn’t be patrolling for the next two weeks so he could get to spend time with the tiny French girl for the duration of her trip.

It was the first time that Damian didn’t protest about sitting out of patrol.

Marinette was in Gotham for only two weeks, and he wanted to get to know her as much as possible during those two weeks.

So when he took her to the roof at one sharp after giving her his cape to hide her from sight, he told her that they could meet earlier if she wanted.

They agreed to meet at eleven from now on, as her roommate tended to fall asleep around ten, luckily for them.

Before they got in another conversation to learn more about each other, he had to bring up a delicate issue.

“I need to tell you something.”

Marinette smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but compare this smile to the sun.

“What is it?”

He winced before taking a deep breath.

“Back when Hawkmoth appeared in Paris, we couldn’t believe that the superheroes were just two children so we investigate a bit to help. The JLE rejected our offer though… Anyway, we did some facial recognition for Ladybug and Chat Noir and… Well, to put it simply, I know that you’re Ladybug, and I thought it would be better to tell you I knew than to keep this piece of information from you.”

The fashion designer stared at him, completely silent. He stayed silent too, giving her all the time she needed to process what he just told her.

“I see.”

He could see her having trouble breathing, on the verge of a panic attack.

He hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder.

“You don’t need to worry, except for us, no one knows and we won’t tell anyone.”

Marinette took a few breaths before looking at him.

“Sorry. It’s the first time someone figured out my identity and I’m trying not to freak out. I’ve always been told how important it is that no one knows about me being Ladybug that I can’t help but panic.”

“Understandable. But, no one knows about you being Ladybug?”

The teenage girl shook her head no.

It made Robin mad. That girl had so many great responsibilities on her shoulder, and no adult to guide her or to vent to when it became too much.

“What kind of person just drop a miraculous to a child anyway?” he asked not too kindly.

Marinette flinched.

“The guardian… He just chose people that were the most compatible with the miraculous… And children are less likely to use the miraculous for evil so…”

“It doesn’t excuse anything. You were just a child without any guidance. You shouldn’t have the responsibility of Paris’ safety on your shoulders.”

The girl shrugged.

“There’s nothing we can do about that.”

“I could always introduce this guardian to my sword.”

“He’s not here anymore.”

As he was about to answer to that, mad that she was now completely alone except for her partner in all this business, she raised a hand.

“But let’s not talk about it. You know about me. That’s one secret I don’t have to keep and honestly, it’s like a weight off my shoulders, even if it’s not ideal that you know.”

She stopped to take a deep breath, now completely calm. She raised her head, looking at him in the eyes and giving him a shy smile.

“I won’t ask for your identity, don’t worry. We’ll cross that bridge when you’re ready, okay?”

He nodded, grateful that she didn’t ask for his identity in exchange for hers.

“Now, I remember you told me that you loved dogs. I have some very cute pictures to show you!”

Her smile was so bright and contagious that he couldn’t but smile a little too, as he got closer to her to watch her phone over her shoulder.

Tag list:

@bigpicklebananatree @animegirlweeb @crazylittlemunchkin @northernbluetongue @cutechip @justafanwarrior @iloontjeboontje @resignedcatservant @maribat-is-lifeblood @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @toodaloo-kangaroo @mikantsume @dast218

#maribat #ml x dc #miraculous x dc #daminette #maridami #damian x marinette

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vindicatedvirgil · 4 years ago

Text

only fools rush in / part six: a twin and twelve tattoos

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

TW: mentions of past abusive relationship, mention of physical violence, brief & subtle mention of sex, mentions of scars, mentions of picking at scabs, food mention, mention of hospitalization, mention of police & jail.

...i’m so sorry.

---

Remus watched as his brother ran around playing with the others. He was smiling, laughing, in a way that was more lighthearted than when they played in their bedroom at home. Remus dug his finger farther into the hole of dirt he’d made, the muck getting under his fingernails but he didn’t care. With his other hand he pulled frustratingly at the grass around him, but his eyes were focused on Roman, pretending to be a prince, defeating the kids who were the villains in the scenario.

When they got home from school that afternoon, Roman immediately turned on the television to watch a Disney cartoon, and Remus felt the anger bubbling up inside of him. He was jealous. He loved his brother more than anyone ever could, and how could Roman stand to be around everyone else? They were mean to Remus, making fun of the way his hands twitched. He hated them. He wanted to hurt them. He wanted to protect Roman from getting hurt.

“You alright?” Patton’s voice was calling to him. They were at a restaurant, Remus’ long arms stretched along the table so that Patton could play with his long fingers. Remus met his eyes, smiling, and just nodded, watching as Patton’s eyes drifted back down to the menu in front of him.

“I was just thinking about Roman,” Remus finally said, and Patton’s eyes snapped back up. They hadn’t talked much about his twin lately, Patton only returning to the apartment to get fresh clothes or to talk to Logan. Remus had never pegged him to be the type to hold a grudge, but even after the bruise around his eye faded back into his normal skin tone, Patton only regarded Roman with ice-cold glares and frowns, despite Remus’ pleas to move on. “I would get really jealous of all of the friends that he made during elementary school, so much so that I wanted to destroy every single one of them so that Roman would only pay attention to me,” he mused, trying to lighten the mood, share a fond memory maybe. Patton didn’t respond, though, instead opting to glance back down at the menu.

“I think it’s a pasta kind of night,” he said softly, one of his hands leaving Remus’ to flip to the next page of the menu. Remus sighed.

“Come now, little flower. How long is this going to go on? He’s one of your best friends,” he watched as Patton’s shoulders slumped a little bit at the words. “The performances start in a few weeks, and we really should go to support him and Virgil.”

“We will go, I just…” Patton’s voice sounded resigned, and he looked up at Remus, sadness in his eyes. “The first time I find someone who I like and actually likes me back, and… it feels like we’re teetering on the edge of destruction.” Remus frowned at this, taking Patton’s hands in his again.

“Pat, I promise, you mean too much to me for me to let anything bad happen to us… but Roman is one of your best friends, and he’s my brother, and we just… have to move on from this,” his eyes were pleading, and Patton’s face fell, but he nodded.

“I know. You’re right, I just… I hated seeing you hurt,” he explained, and Remus smiled lovingly at him. Then the waiter came over to take their meal orders, and the pair fell into a gentle conversation.

“Ewww, Remus is picking at his scab!” One of the girls in the class was shrieking at him, pointing and covering her face in horror. But Remus couldn’t help it; when he fell off of his skateboard last week and scratched up his arm, it left a scab that he knew would be pleasing to peel off. And this class was so boring, he didn’t understand why they were reading books from mid-century when there were way more interesting contemporaries.

“Remus, stop disturbing your classmates or you’ll be sent to the office. Again.” The teacher’s voice was tired; Remus had been sent to the office twice already that month, and it started causing a rift in their home. Roman, perfect, sweet, Roman, was doing so well, got the lead in the school play during his freshman year! But Remus, oh what would they do with him?

The night before, he went down to get water from the kitchen but overheard his parents talking about him. The words “boarding school” and “military school” were thrown around, sending Remus into a fit of rage. He stormed out into the backyard, taking refuge in the treehouse that he used to spend every summer afternoon in with Roman.

Why didn’t anyone understand him? His brain was weird, but no one listened to him. Even Roman had started to tune him out with headphones blasting musical numbers and Disney songs; Remus had lost the one person who he thought he could trust. He wished that his parents would listen to his pleas about going to see a therapist, but their response was always the same: it cost too much money.

But he had done his research. It would cost significantly less to send Remus to therapy than it would to send him to boarding school or military school. And he knew that if he was sent away, he would only get worse. He tried explaining this to them, to Roman, but they all avoided him when he had his outbursts. Eventually, he gave up, instead opting to sneak out of the house every night to wander the dark streets of their small town.

That was when he met them. A small group of boys a bit older than him, who would plague the park every night until a police cruiser came by to tell them all to go home. Remus felt like he belonged with them as he spoke of his bad thoughts, of bashing his brother’s head in with the oar that hung above the fireplace, a memento of their father’s days of rowing in college. They took Remus under their collective wing, showing him the best places to lurk at night, teaching him the best ways to sneak off of their school campus.

How was he supposed to know what would happen?

Patton was putting some of his clothes into a duffel bag, and Remus was sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Hmm, the more clothes I pack, the less I’ll have to come back here,” he mused, pawing through his closet. Remus sighed, stretching his arms up so his shirt lifted a bit, revealing some skin. Patton glanced over at him, eyes travelling to the tattoos that were covering some of Remus’ stomach scars.

He stepped closer, sinking down to kneel in front of Remus, and his fingers tugged at the hem of the shirt, pulling it over Remus’ head. He pressed against the tattoos of throwing stars, feeling the scar tissue underneath. Patton had seen the scars before, when he took care of Remus after that night at the library, and in their moments of deep intimacy. But he was always so hesitant to ask where they had come from.

“Re… what are these scars?” Patton’s voice was low, and Remus just leaned forward, pressing his lips to Patton’s, who pulled back despite wanting to continue. Remus sighed, deciding to explain in as little detail as possible.

“The day Roman was hurt, I tried to stop them. So, they hurt me too,” Remus’ voice was shaky, and Patton pulled him into his arms. “He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that they hurt me, too. I had to protect him, Patton. I tried my best. I didn’t know that they’d hurt him, I swear.”

“Shh, it’s okay. He’s okay, you’re okay, and you’re here now with me,” Patton ran his fingers through Remus’ hair in a soothing way, and he felt tears stain his shirt. He said nothing about this, though, murmuring soft things to his boyfriend. “Remus, you’re safe, and Roman is safe. Okay? Everything’s okay.” The two sat in silence for a while, until Remus scrambled to get more comfortable in Patton’s arms, their lips meeting haphazardly and needily, hands trailing lower and lower.

Patton smiled lazily over at Remus afterwards, his fingers grazing along the crossbow tattoo on the back of his shoulders. His eyes trailed down, onto the letters tattooed brutally on Remus’ lower back, and leaned down to press a kiss to the word. “I don’t think you’re naughty, hmm... well… maybe sometimes,” he teased, and Remus laughed lowly, stretching his arms out to rest his head on.

“I can be more or less naughty, babe. Whatever you want,” he replied softly as Patton’s fingers trailed along the rest of Remus’ tattoos. Patton had come to love them all for their uniqueness, the knife that was on his right middle finger, the quiver with bows on the back of his upper right arm, the pollaxe on his right outer ankle, the three throwing knives on the bottom of his left foot, even the flail on his left thigh. Sometimes in the pale light of the night, Patton would press kisses to all twelve of Remus’ tattoos, murmuring sweet words that made Remus want to scoop his boyfriend up and snuggle forever.

“Have you ever thought of getting more tattoos?” Patton finally spoke over the comfortable silence that had fallen over the couple. Remus glanced over his shoulder at him, pursing his lips in thought.

“Maybe some science beakers,” he said. “What about you, little flower?” Patton had just the floral tattoos on his arms and upper shoulders, and Remus loved massaging his long fingers over them.

“More flowers would always be good,” Patton murmured, and Remus sat up, pulling the smaller man into his arms. “I always told Roman that he should get musical notes along his spine,” Patton said without thinking, and Remus smiled fondly at him.

“Oh, Pat. You really need to talk to him, I can tell that you miss him,” he said, and Patton’s eyes fell, nodding. “I would miss Janus or Virgil if I didn’t see them anymore.”

“How did you even meet them?” Patton asked, trying to change the subject. Remus closed his eyes, deep in thought.

“I jumped in their cart at the grocery store and told them to push me around like a baby. Virgil was Virgil about it, of course, but Jan? He ran with it. Literally.” Remus said nonchalantly, and Patton giggled a little at what he clearly knew was a lie. “Okay, fine. I was in a general education science class with them. There was a project that required three people so they asked me to join their duo. I didn’t leave them alone after that.” He pressed his face into Patton’s side, making the other giggle again. “I love the sound of your giggles.”

“I love you,” Patton breathed out, and Remus’ breath caught in his throat, memories flooding back through his mind, and he gripped at Patton to try to ground himself, to remind him that he was there, on Patton’s bed, not in that place or with that person.

Remus looked up at him from his spot on the floor, his eyes focused on the bare skin that showed when he lifted the shirt over his head, and Remus was filled with adoration and awe, and the words fell out of his mouth like bricks, and he couldn’t stop them: “I think I’m in love with you.” He had hoped for a smile or a soft glance back, but all he got was a glare and a frown.

“No you don’t. Get that fucking thought of your head, whore,” His voice was raspy as always, but now it was laced with poison. Remus thought that he would implode from the impact of those words. But they refused to leave his soul.

“Re? Hey, what’s wrong? Did I… did I mess up?” Patton’s voice was back, calling Remus into the present, into the soft touches and worried glances of the floral boy. “I’m so sorry, if I upset you…” Remus shook his head quickly, looking up at Patton’s concerned face.

“You didn’t. I just…” Remus hadn’t said those words to anybody since that day, since that spot on the floor. “I need to tell you more about my past. Before I say anything else.” Patton nodded, worry still evident in his eyes, and Remus sat up, taking Patton’s hands into his own. “In high school… I joined this group. They were the only ones who I thought could understand me, because my parents and Roman had long given up on me.”

“Re-”

“Please, Pat… let me say this,” Remus’ eyes were pleading, and Patton nodded again, allowing the silence to fill the space between them before Remus started talking again. “My parents were considering sending me to military school or boarding school. They wouldn’t let me go to therapy. I knew that I needed it. But… instead I met this group of guys who caused… all kinds of chaos. Except, for the first time in my life, I felt like I fit in with someone who didn’t look exactly like me. They listened to me,” Remus sighed. “And then… they took what I was saying, what I hate that I was thinking, way too literally. They hurt Roman, and then me when I tried to protect him.”

This was the part of the story that Patton knew. Police showed up. Roman was taken to the hospital, as was Remus, but the only difference was that Remus was in handcuffs. After he was declared okay, he had to sit in a jail cell with his “friends”. Remus didn’t know if Roman was okay or not, and his parents didn’t free him, even as all of his friends were bailed out.

When he was finally let out, he requested a psychological evaluation. His parents couldn’t put their foot down on this; and when he was evaluated, they found out just what was wrong with Remus, why he was the way that he was. So he finally got to go to therapy and get treatment, but his relationship with Roman was never the same.

“After everything went down… I went back to the park. One of them was there, like he was waiting for me,” remembrance shone in Remus’ eyes, and he couldn’t look at Patton’s face anymore. “He was a senior, I was a sophomore. And… at some point… he kissed me. I was young and stupid, and we fell into… well, for the lack of a better word, a relationship. But it was toxic. I got my ‘naughty’ tattoo at that time. Got the tattoo area infected, too,” he sighed. Patton hadn’t said anything or made any movements, so Remus kept going. Kept reminiscing. “I didn’t know what love was. It... wasn’t that. But I didn’t know any better. So… being the dumb kid I was… I told him. I blurted it out.

“He hit me so hard that day, that when I got home, Roman flipped his shit, told me that if he ever saw me with one of those guys again, he’d call the police and tell them that I was being abused and hurt and that I needed to be sent away for my protection,” Remus felt a finger graze his cheek. He was crying and Patton was wiping his tears away with the pad of his thumb. “I couldn’t bear to hurt Roman again, even though we had grown so distant. So… I never contacted any of them again. But… that day was the last time I ever told someone that I loved them. I’m almost afraid to say it. All of the others I’ve dated? Whenever they said it, I bolted. Because what if… what if they were lying and when I said it back they hurt me?”

Silence fell over the room, and then Patton’s hand was there on his cheek, and he wanted to flinch, he wanted to cry and run and scream. But he didn’t. And then Patton’s lips were on his, and it was like CPR, he was getting filled with love and hope and air. And sunshine. Patton was all of those things and Remus knew that he wouldn’t get hurt by him.

“Remus, I know that you’ve been hurt, I feel it, and my heart aches for you,” Patton’s voice was soothing and Remus wanted to wrap himself up in it like a blanket. “But I swear to you, I am here. I’m in this. I love you, Remus, and I don’t care if you don’t say it for months or years or if you never say it out loud. I’m not changing my mind on this, I’m not going to run or leave. Here I am. I’m yours.”

And then Remus was clinging to Patton’s shoulders, sobbing, his breathing more like gasping, but he was bolstered by Patton’s surprisingly strong grip. The words were so close to coming out of his mouth, but it was like there was a phantom hand over his mouth, pushing them back in, making him gag, and he couldn’t say it. But, oh, he wanted to.

Roman’s hand was frozen over the door handle to Patton’s room. He listened, accidentally. The admissions by Remus of everything that had happened. He didn’t know that Remus had gotten hurt, too. Not like he did. Regret filled his every cell, and he wanted to run in, sobbing, and hug his brother like they’d hug when they were kids, for no reason and for every reason.

Instead, he pulled his hand back, sticking it into his jacket pocket. He glanced over his shoulder to see Logan, adjusting his glasses. Roman nodded, looking down, then went into his room. Maybe a letter. Maybe a note. Something to tell Remus that he understood, that he felt his pain, and that they were going to be okay someday very soon.

He needed to apologize to Patton, too.

Patton and Remus were heading out of the apartment, Patton’s duffel bag gripped tightly in hand. He wasn’t leaving because of Roman this time, he was leaving because he needed to be with Remus after the emotional devastation of the day. Except when they went out into the living room, Roman was there, sitting on the couch, two envelopes in his hands. He stood up as soon as he saw the couple and walked over to them.

“I-” He paused, not sure of what he wanted to say. “I’m so sorry. For everything.” The words were jumbled in his head, but that was why he wrote letters. So he handed the letters over before running away. Patton blinked, and Remus itched to run after his twin, but he didn’t. Instead, they both sat down on the couch, Patton’s duffel bag forgotten and dropped on the floor.

Dear Patton,

I’m sorry. I wanted so hard to believe that I was protecting you so that what happened to me didn’t happen to you, but I ended up being the one who hurt you in the end. Remus has grown so much and now I see that everything that happened to us in high school had less to do with him and everything to do with the horrible people around us, including our parents.

My mind has been so focused on Virgil and the musical that I didn’t even realize how quickly you and Remus have fit together and fallen in love, and I’m so happy for you, Patton. I truly am.

I know that I’ve messed up. I don’t think that I can ever forgive myself so I don’t expect forgiveness from you.

But I promise that if you ever want me around you, I will do my best to be the best gosh darn friend you’ve ever had (excluding Logan, I know that you two are the pinnacle of friendship and I don’t want to erase that).

You’re one of my best friends, Patton. And I love you.

~Roman

Dear Remus,

I didn’t intend to overhear part of your conversation with Patton, but I did. And so now I know. I know that you were hurt trying to protect me from them, that you went to therapy like I did, that you have been hurt so much more than I ever could have imagined.

And I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed your brother. A friend. Anyone. I should have defended you to all of my friends and the people in our school who said such horrid things about you. I should have defended you to Mom and Dad. I should have listened to you. And I’m so sorry that I didn’t. I wish I could go back in time and listen to you when you begged for us to hear you.

I’m also sorry that I punched you. I’ve been on edge lately. I told Virgil that I love him and he hasn’t said it back. The musical dates are coming up and I’m so scared for Virgil, he’s so nervous. My whole mind is filled with him and I panicked when I thought that Patton was getting hurt because that means that I dropped the ball. I was supposed to protect him, protect my friends so they wouldn’t get hurt the way I did.

Except I’m the one that hurt him, and I hurt you too. And this whole time, maybe I should have been more concerned with protecting you, Remus. I’m trying to look at things with an optimistic lens, but I know that I’ve fucked up and I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself, so I don’t expect forgiveness from you or from Patton.

But I’m going to say this because you need to hear it: you’re not broken, Remus. The things that happened to you did not happen to you because you deserved them. You didn’t deserve any of it. You are an incredible person, a great brother, and I see how much you care for Patton. He is what you truly have earned: someone to make you happy and hopeful and to give you all of the love that you were wrongfully not given.

I’m not sure how to be a better brother to you, but I’m going to do my best.

I love you, Remus. I’m sorry.

~Roman

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teaser for part seven: performance anxiety

What did that one song say? Only fools rush in.

Virgil didn’t want to be a fool. He didn’t want to rush. He wanted to take his time, but it was so hard when Roman was so… perfect. Perfect Roman bringing over flowers from Patton’s mom’s floral shop, taking him to sit under the stars or in the sunshine, bringing a smile to his face and kissing his cheeks–

part seven will be posted on sunday, august 23 at 12PM PDT

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part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten

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[masterlist]

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taglist (send an ask or leave a comment if you would like to be added)

@winterrose42

@are-you-even--real

@shaded14space

@lallyphant

@deceits-left-glove

@aricana8

@pixelated-pineapple

@starstruck-xavier

@thiel

@sophiexteresa

@cemmy

@toadink2005

@eeveeeclair246

@i-cant-find-a-good-username

@pansexualpuppet

@morgan-leaf

#amanda writes sanders sides fic #amanda's sanders sides college au #only fools rush in #ts fanfiction #ts sanders sides

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batmanie · 4 years ago

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Petri dish - Scriddler

Furious screams and a wild stream of insults sobered Jonathan from his almost catatonic state. Two guards dragged a newcomer through the bright corridors of the asylum. The man struggled and flailed but he was powerless, while held in their iron grasp. Scarecrow opened one, bloodshot eye, his ears always eager to listen to the sweet sounds of despair that other inmates often emitted within the welcoming walls of Arkham. As the guards showed the man to the cell in front of his own, Jonathan took a good look at his new neighbor. Short, light brown hair, wide forehead, average-sized, and a high-pitched, annoying voice – it was Edward Nigma – the riddle-guy who had hacked the GCPD database, blackmailed the city hall and pissed off the Bat. Crane had seen him before but it looked like Nigma had had an encounter with Batman again, and judging by his bruises, it hadn't ended up too well. “Listen to me, you brain-dead dullards,” Nigma shouted at the guards through the glassy wall of his solitary cell, trying and failing to get their attention. “...you know I'm right, even a simpleton like you should be able to see that! Batman cheated! I don't know how he did it but I'm going to find out!” He slammed his fists into the glass, his voice now distant but still weakly echoing through the otherwise silent corridor. “I will expose this fake hero-wannabee! Can you hear me? I'm not a villain – HE IS!!!” Scarecrow smiled internally, this sounded like the beginning of a first-hand object lesson on the psychology of a delusional, egotistical, clinically narcissistic patient. A truly delightful combination of mental disorders squeezed together into this one, fragile-looking body. It almost surprised him, how much hatred and passion a single man could contain.

Scarecrow's night was passing accompanied by Nigma's shouts, bragging and wailing as the background noise. It was going on for so long that after some time Jonathan grew tired of the repetitive theme of Batman being the evil offender, and his mind slowly started to produce quite vivid images of multiple ways to shut Nigma up – one of them included getting him drawn down the toilet. It was a good three hours since his capture when Edward finally ran out of steam and his tantrum died off – or perhaps Valium he had surely been given, had kicked in only now. Motionless like a stuffed doll on a field of hay, Scarecrow observed his neighbor through the glass, noticing how the nervous pacing stopped along with the screams. Nigma sat down on his cot, leaning against the wall. A few minutes later his body slid down on the mattress and he was already sleeping, one hand hanging from the bed. “Lesson one is over,” Jonathan thought, not without some relief. Maybe he could try to get some rest, too? He closed his tired eyes but his chronic insomnia got in his way yet again, leaving him sleepless till the morning. The next day, the pattern repeated itself – Nigma woke up highly energetic, paced up and forth, talking to himself, insulting every guard or doctor unfortunate enough to pass by his cell. His loud and constant rambling soon escalated into a full-out outburst of psychotic yelling about Batman's stupidity, which by the evening left Nigma with a sore throat and ended with the Arkham staff dosing him with more tranquilizers so he crashed on his cot like a roadkill on asphalt. It went exactly the same way for the next two days, and all that time Nigma didn't bother to notice that Crane was watching him from the safe distance of his own cell. So far the obnoxious man had made no attempt to interact with Scarecrow, which was surprising, because the psychological profile that Jonathan was able to put together based on his observations, clearly suggested that this individual sought any form of attention he could get. Yet, Edward acted like Crane didn't exist. Or perhaps in his self-centred psychosis, Nigma really didn't see him?

-#-

In the afternoon of day four of his research on Riddler, Scarecrow was waiting for the nurse who was bringing food rations to the patients every day at 2 p.m., disposing it by putting a plastic tray through a small hole in the metal door of each cell. He didn't trust the Arkham food but he enjoyed those little moments when he could decide to make some sudden movement and scare the living hell out of the poor nurse. Or he could very well just stand next to the glass, staring the nurse down with his cold, professional gaze. That method of intimidation tended to work even better on some of his test subjects. The best thing was, he didn't have to choose beforehand, he was free to just go with it as the situation progressed. As he stood there, waiting patiently, he spotted Nigma doing the same. Their eyes met from across the bright-lit corridor and it was the first time the riddle-man really spared him a moment of his attention. Crane took a good look at Edward's face – the face of someone who was still youthful, still untouched by the true horror that Arkham surely was. And even if one could probably call Nigma's features quite handsome, there was this look in his dark-blue eyes – the look of pure disgust that didn't make him look attractive at all. It made him look like someone who loathed everyone and everything around him. Jonathan would have felt offended by being stared down like that by some arrogant wannabee villain, if only he had cared. Luckily for Nigma, he didn't. The night after that event brought an unexpected, new development. Scarecrow was pretending to be asleep, as he usually did, when his ears picked up some commotion in the cell across the corridor. It was Nigma – turning over on his bed, talking in his sleep. Jonathan rolled his restless eyes. Was all that talking during the daytime not enough for this man? It was about 90 minutes since the riddle-man had fallen into his slumber, and he already must have entered his REM phase, having an uneasy time in his subconscious. Intrigued and ready to take more mental notes on Riddler's case, Doctor Crane got up from his cot and silently walked toward the glass, leaning in so close that his breath now created fog on its glossy surface. He watched as Nigma flailed his legs as if running from something or someone. He heard him mumbling incoherent rubbish, it was hard to recognize the words since 3 inches of bullet-proof glass, and the corridor separated them. Whatever sounds managed to go through the small air-holes in the glassy wall and right into Scarecrow's ears, they reminded him of a strangled “No, please!” and filled his dark soul with joy. “Night terrors,” he nodded to himself with appreciation, clinging to the glass like a fish in a tank. “How interesting.” It seemed like the stay in Arkham, or perhaps the latest encounter with the Bat had taken some toll on Mr. Nigma after all. “Just perfect.” He was eager to see which direction the nightmare was going but soon enough something changed in his test subject's behavior. The thrashing about stopped, Riddler's movements were reduced to simply rolling his head on the thin, sweat-soaked pillow. His moans went a note higher and gained a strange hint of despair and frustration. It didn't sound like a bad dream anymore, Scarecrow was confused, yet he was still staring at the man wriggling on his bed in some sort of not-so-unpleasant struggle. It was hard to tell for sure, especially in the dim light of the asylum after the 'lights-out', but Jonathan could swear he saw Nigma rocking his hips, his body twitching involuntarily with a short, intensive spasm. “So it's an erotic dream after all,” Doctor Crane mused, not even considering to look away. The elevated heart rate, increased blood pressure and muscle tension – it was quite amusing how the human body responded with symptoms of arousal to both fear and desire. The second one might not be related to his actual field of research but a true scientist should be open to all given opportunities to learn more about the subject. He wasn't given enough time to fully feed his scientific curiosity. Riddler suddenly gasped loudly, and his body shook with a violent convulsion. He woke up, Scarecrow knew that, whatever dream he had – it was over. Now, Nigma just laid there, trying to recollect, probably going through the mental pictures stored in his brain again and again. It didn't take long before Jonathan registered a slight movement on the other side once again. Edward shifted his position, making himself more comfortable on the bed, spreading his legs and pulling the thin, cotton bed cover over his lower body. His hands slid under the cover, Scarecrow didn't see well but he could easily imagine them roaming up and down the body, probably unzipping the orange jumpsuit or just exploring the still sensitive skin. Soon enough, a small patch on Riddler's cover started to rise and fall rhythmically, in a way that left very little to anyone's imagination. “He is really going to do this,” Doctor Crane hummed to himself in disbelieve. With all the cameras inside their cells, and with a reputation to maintain, that was a rather bold decision. Or perhaps this was just the compulsion of a madman? He had taken Nigma for more than just a man of basic instincts but then again, as a scientist, he knew that there was no escaping from being controlled by your hormones when triggered. The dream must have gotten the riddle-man good, leaving him hard and in need of release. No wonder the man was now moaning into his sleeve, covering his mouth with his left arm, while his right was steadily working on his erect member. “He is ready to pleasure himself in front of a camera. In front of me...” The thought intrigued Jonathan, he felt a shadow of a smile creeping over his long, hollow face. “A lack of shame,” he added to his internal list of symptoms of Nigma's mental illness. “Possible dissociative personality disorder – further research needed.” Edward did not finish yet, his right hand moving at a frenetic pace under the layer of his white cover. His hips were grinding for a fast release as he thrust into his own palm. At some point, his legs kicked the bed cover away, exposing him to the cold night air. Crane licked his dry, narrow lips, watching the show with anticipation. He didn't see the details but he could tell it was close now. A few seconds later, the body on the cot arched like a cane and a muffled moan reached Scarecrow's ears, he greeted it with mild amusement. The show was over and it ended rather predictably, Jonathan was about to retreat to his own cot when all of a sudden Riddler's eyes snapped open and the man perked up his head, catching Crane staring right at him. In the red hue of Arkham’s nightlights, Nigma's eyes seemed to be burning like a true hellfire. Scarecrow boldly stared into that flame, not even trying to turn his head away. He knew that the very moment they dared to lock their eyes in such an intimate situation, it automatically became a challenge – whoever looked away first, would admit his defeat and take the shameful blame. A dreadful, bloodcurdling female scream, coming from somewhere deep inside the asylum, shattered the tense, little moment they shared and made Edward instinctively look into that direction. Jonathan sighed, he was sure it was Zsasz going on one of his night escapades again. And if he was right, it meant an emergency lock-down and general havoc – no time to play mind-games with Edward. Casting one last look at his disheveled neighbor, Scarecrow caught Nigma quickly zipping up his jumpsuit and fixing his bed-sheets like nothing had ever happened. Before the alarm turned on, he returned to his spartan bed, getting back to his well-taught motionless position against the wall. He would continue in his research on Riddler tomorrow, he still had the time for that, tonight however, he could rejoice in the panic that was sure to spread through the madhouse any minute now.

#batman #batman fanfiction #scriddler #scarecrow #Jonathan Crane #riddler #fanfiction #arkham asylum #Arkham Games #arkhamverse #My Story #temarcia #Bat-mania

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unaskedformagnustheories · 4 years ago

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UNASKED FOR MAGNUS THEORY #6: EXTINCTION IS COMING (AND HELEN WILL BE THE ONE TO OPEN THE DOOR)

If the title didn’t make it readily apparent, this post contains speculation on MAG Season 5. Please do not read if you haven’t made it to 160 in the pod. There be spoilers ahead. We good? All the new offerings listeners gone?

Alright! To my dearest Red-Stringers, I know it’s been a minute. I’ve been gearing up to this one for a while. Teased it on discord, even, but I’ve put off sharing, because this might be the theory I’m most attached to. Seriously, half the other ones on here are rambles at best (an exercise in futility at worst), I'm tired of letting this one collect dust, and want to share with you folks before I lose my nerve. The short of it? I suspect the birth of The Extinction is still a threat in this post-apocalyptic world. I believe Elias’ ritual was just a stepping stone along the path, and Adelard Dekker and Peter Lukas were looking in the wrong place when they assumed this new power would be born from The End. Instead, I think The Spiral has been has been laying out the red carpet from the start with Distortion’s help, and The Archivist’s a little foolish for not questioning whether or not the apocalypse could get worse. While I’ve been wary of Helen for a while (as lovely as Imogen Harris is), I have to admit the seed for this train of thought was planted by Simon Fairchild in MAG 151:

“Peter seems convinced that the Extinction is different, that its actual birth will be as bad - or worse - as another power fully manifesting. He believes its advent will be heralded by all sorts of disasters, and catastrophes, and global upheavals, and whatnot. That kind of thing”

Upheavals? Catastrophes? Seems a fitting description for an escalating few decades worth of failed rituals, wouldn’t you say? Even Adelard Dekker mused in his last correspondence with Gertrude “perhaps the birth of such things is longer and more complicated than I believed” (MAG 157). It could even include an eyepocalypse on the way to greatness, and I don’t think it coincidence a familiar set of corridors has been on the sidelines munching popcorn for most of the story so far. One of the first descriptions we get of Michael is through a distorted window pane in Sasha James’ apartment building, the glass warped like a “funhouse mirror” (MAG 26). This description is echoed in A New Door when Helen Richardson describes the paintings in Michael’s corridors “each distorted [him] differently, like a selection of funhouse mirrors”. Curious then, isn’t it that one of Adelard Dekker’s statements regarding The Extinction tells the tale of a man who stepped from our world into a horrifying, inhuman reality via a very similar pathway? While the mirror world in Magnus 156 - Reflection isn’t usually tied to The Spiral (from what I’ve seen around the fandom) I would argue the funhouse aspect and the maze imagery should make us reconsider. That being said, I’d like to draw your attention specifically to the three odd mirrors this unfortunate dark tourist finds:

1. “expanded him into a short, squat reflection” 2. “bent him out of shape” 3. “squeezed him, made him thin and gaunt, and that was the one which took him”

Is it just me, or do the first two distorted goldilocks mirrors remind anyone else an awful lot of The Maker of Clay “short and squat, with knobbly bare arms that seemed to reach down almost to his knees” and The Distortion (do I really need to explain why? ha, you folks have been listening to the same show I’ve been listening to). Is it such a reach to imagine that the third mirror represents a facet of The Spiral that’s still marinating? Biding its time until full emergence. Have we forgotten already that Extinction-prophet Garland Hillier left a warning telling us that “the door is the door” after presumably losing himself in an alternate Paris full of inhuman inheritors so twisted that the researcher who accidentally followed him couldn’t even put into words how terrifying the creatures that come after humanity are (MAG 134)? Or is The door THE DOOR, and we should really be more concerned about her machinations. It’s not exactly news the Distortion’s motivations have been foggy from the start. In the very beginning Michael told Sasha he didn’t care if she and her friends at The Archives lived or died. And yet he hung around treating their handling of The Unknowing like it was a spectator sport. Then when he became she, Helen stayed around the Institute to offer ‘help’, but happily denied Jon assistance when he came asking for an ally before entering the panopticon. Post-apocalypse? Martin’s not the only one who’s noticed she’s gleefully getting “worse”, and I can’t help but get the sense she’s not riding the chaos so much as riding the tide of a plan finally coming to fruition. Thriving.

It could explain (if we assume The Spider is working to re-establish the world that was) why The Distortion was so intent on getting into Hill Top Road when it was torturing Marcus MacKenzie (MAG 146). When approaching the house, Marcus remembers feeling the door’s playfulness disappear as “a cold hunger” set in “as though [he] had no right to just stand there looking at it. The street was silent, but [he] could feel it screaming at [him] to open it”. Was The Distortion aware that the time-warp house might be the only real threat to Extinction’s birth and wanted to cut it off at the head? I know I’m spiraling into conjecture a little, but this post could turn into a novella if I didn’t. I just think it would be a great twist if while we’re focusing on Elias as the big bad something worse could be lurking in the shadows, and Helen seems like the most likely candidate. Elias had his villain moment. His arc (while not complete) felt like it reached its zenith at the end of Season 4. Tell me it doesn’t sound like a Jonny Sims bait and switch to have our intrepid heroes deal with ‘The King of the Ruined World’ only to find out he was the least of their worries.

Random, but if this theory holds any weight, I wonder (with the whole through-line that the fears are inextricably tied to humanity), if Gertrude accidentally helped Extinction’s ascension by feeding Michael to The Distortion. It seems horribly fitting that if in trying to stop one ritual she lay the groundwork for a power so disgusted by its own existence it had to become something else. Something with the potential to raze things to the ground even further and build an entirely new world unrecognizable to those that came before.

I’d like to leave you with one last (and arguably weakest) point. Ha, but if that’s not proof I do this for fun, I don’t know what is. This isn’t an essay. It’s me rambling, and if you’ve come along this far I appreciate you as a human. All the same, I’d like to draw your attention to episode 99 - Dust to Dust. The statement regards a town in Oklahoma that was built on a lie, a storm that felt like the end of the world, and a man named Stefan Brotchen who became something inhuman during the course of events. While Gertrude mentions that the town’s foundation reminds her of The Spiral, she ultimately admits that The Buried more likely stands to be the entity at play. However the prevailing reality of fear soup doesn’t negate the possibility that something else could be in the works too. Something that starts with an ‘e’ and ends in ‘xtinction’. I’d also like to put these two descriptions side by side:

“Stefan Brotchen was, to all appearances, much the same as any other Okie farmer: strongly built, with a mess of short, curly, blond hair and a round, smiling face. But his eyes were different. There was… something there. I-I was never quite sure what, but they had a depth, a quiet intensity to them that struck me the first time I saw him.

“He was tall, maybe six and a half feet? And he had long, straw-coloured hair that fell onto his shoulders in loose ringlets. His face was round and unthreatening” (MAG 47, The New Door)

Funny that at the end of that statement a very human Michael Shelley interrupts. Like I said. Could be nothing...or it could be the kind of move a certain horror writer likes to play which’ll make you want to bang your head on a desk for not seeing that maybe Extinction has been hanging around longer than anybody noticed. Maybe it’s been a part of The Distortion all along. Maybe it merged with it’s sib during the ritual at Sannikov Land, and has slowly been splintering since.

All I know is we have no idea what Michael looked like pre-transformation. We just have a voice on a tape. And Helen is up to something.

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vmheadquarters · 4 years ago

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We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected!

Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. --Chapter Twenty-Three of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @disdainfullady. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.24 from @artoftalent07 - tag, you’re it!

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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE by @disdainfullady

Veronica turned the page, fascinated despite herself. When Ruby had come stomping into Mars Investigations that morning, Veronica had had to try three of the breathing techniques Logan swore kept him from washing out of OCS before she dared to even acknowledge the girl. Either she wasn’t fighter pilot material, or Ruby was worse than the drill sergeants – MTIs corrected the little Logan voice in her brain – because she could never be sure if those techniques actually helped, or just gave her time to fine tune her sarcasm.

In the year since Carrie’s death, Ruby had found half a dozen excuses to hire Veronica, mostly background checks for potential dates – so far none of them had been kicked out by a pop star’s security for hiding in a closet, but they were keeping hope alive – and one case where she was convinced the couple across the street were running drugs out of their basement. She’d actually been right about that, although Ruby had based her theory on the idea that the couple had far more lawn ornaments than anyone not pushing meth had a right to, and still insisted that that was the big give away.

Veronica never had the heart to turn her away. Sure, she didn’t, they didn’t, strictly need the money, but there was something so earnest about Ruby, despite her off-the-wall conspiracy theories and what seemed like a new obsession every week. It was sometimes hard to remember that Ruby was only a year younger than her - Veronica doubted she'd had half Ruby's enthusiasm and energy even in her all too distant pep squad days. Of course, she probably should aim for a degree or two below manic.

After leaving Veronica three voicemails of escalating urgency about a case she absolutely needed Veronica’s help on, Ruby had shown up at Mars Investigations that morning in full pensive-artist mode complete with glasses that were either fake or a prescription so minor that they might as well be, pages clutched to her chest, announcing that the case in question was that which took place in the novel she had written.

Veronica knew she should have politely declined. Maybe gotten Wallace to have one of his colleagues in the English department give it a read, if her conscience was really bugging her. But it had been a slow week, and she wouldn’t have gone back to being a PI if she’d been able to resist the pull of her curiosity. Nor would Logan forgive her if she wasn’t able to give him a full summary of the entire thing.

And the work was fascinating.

She wasn't sure what impressed her more, the depth of Ruby's research, or her completely scattershot method of applying it. Sure, she'd pulled in most of the obvious players, but there were some deep cuts in here. Lenny? Cole? She was pretty sure Cole's own parents forgot he existed when he wasn't in the room, yet here he was parading all over this mysterious snow ridden island within easy access of Southern California. Actually, she mused, Cole would make a great killer in the traditional way of things. Veronica was always suspicious of named minor characters with no apparent motive.

Unfortunately, it didn't seem like Ruby was a fan of narrative efficiency, so he'd probably just been tossed into the manuscript along with the kitchen sink that she only hoped would be getting its big scene in the next chapter or two.

A chair scraped and she looked up, remembering just in time to wipe the incredulous glee off her face. Ruby Jetson, formerly Della Pugh, literary alias Mistress X, had scooted her seat even closer to Veronica's desk, and was staring at her with an eager intensity. Veronica cleared her throat and the - fortunately wigless - Ruby inched forward even closer, her knee actually bumping the desk.

"Did you get to the part where they discover the island's tragic past?" asked Ruby. The question burst out of her like she’d been holding it in for the past hour.

"Not yet - it has a tragic past?"

"Every mysterious island has a tragic past, Veronica." Ruby's scornful tone was undercut by the restless tapping of her leg.

"Oh of course," Veronica nodded with what she hoped was an appropriately serious expression. "Well, that's something to look forward to, then." And she sort of was. The way Ruby phrased it she rather hoped the island had had a passionate romance with a nearby peninsula only to lose it to - how did you kill a peninsula, soil erosion maybe?

"But as I said earlier, it's going to take me a while to go through all this. You really," really, really, really she thought, "don't need to sit here and watch me read it."

Ruby’s face scrunched in disapproval. “You said that you’d prioritize my case, Veronica Mars.”

Veronica sighed. She steepled her hands as she tried to gently let the girl down. “That was when I thought you had a case. I’m not a literary critic, Ruby.”

Ruby snorted.

“No, but you are a detective, and if I can stump you then I know my story’s good.”

Veronica carefully did not point out the flaws in that particular assertion. “You don’t want it to be too baffling, Ruby. Readers like the satisfaction of clues coming together.”

Ruby, beamed, apparently delighted by this rather commonplace observation. “I knew you wouldn’t figure it out,” she crowed. “I bet you haven’t even grasped the significance of the chocolate.”

Veronica shook her head, even as one corner of her brain started following the trail begun by that breadcrumb. The significance of the chocolate? The number of chocolate martinis that had supposedly been consumed by the party were massive – but she’d been to plenty of 09er events that had better liquor stores than most bars. Was there something to read into that? Oh, that one was going to bother her.

She shook her head. “Ruby, you already revealed your character as the bad guy. There’s nothing to figure out.”

Ruby’s mouth dropped open and she blinked at Veronica in surprise.

“Me? I’m not the bad guy.”

“You’re not?” She’s wasn’t? Oh god, was Ruby supposed to be the heroine? Was Veronica supposed to be rooting for her own comeuppance in this magnum opus of Ruby’s?

“You’re barely halfway through. Do you honestly think that I would give away the real villain that soon?”

Ah. Veronica looked down again at the depressingly large stack of papers in front of her. It hadn’t seemed like this much when she’d started.

Ruby smirked. “Ruby Jetson is merely a red herring.”

“Ah, like communism,” Veronica murmured.

Though she had to point out, “Of course, you are killing people.”

“Madison Sinclair,” Ruby scoffed.

Veronica gave an equivocal head nod, not quite acknowledging the semi-validity of that point.

“And Leo. Should I wonder why you even know Leo?”

Leo had been in San Diego for nearly a decade at this point, and occasional appearances at high school dances in Miami Vice regalia aside, she wouldn’t have thought he’d have had much occasion to cross paths with Ruby.

“I do my research, Veronica.” Ruby gave another one of her smug, knowing expressions. Veronica, no stranger to being smug or knowing herself, sighed inwardly.

“And you didn’t actually see what happened to Leo did you?” Ruby continued. “I mean, sure Lenny took credit, but then he would.”

With neither wealth, nor wit nor charisma, Lenny Sofer had been one of Neptune High’s more determined bullies, a nonentity so frustrated by his lack of status he spent all his time searching for those below him on the ladder, trying to push them down further. Veronica had pretty much forgotten he’d existed the second she’d graduated, as she’d imagined, had most of their class, his chosen victims excluded. Now if Ruby had written some sort of Murder on the Orient Express situation with Lenny as victim, she could probably get behind that.

“Is Lenny Sofer actually your cousin by the way?”

Ruby looked offended by the question. Did she think Veronica had memorized her background the way she, Ruby, had apparently memorized Veronica’s? Ruby did have a flare for investigation, if one could get past the whole bit where she was mildly bonkers.

“Lenny Sofer is a sociopath,” Ruby said, flatly.

That didn’t actually answer the question, Veronica noted.

“He bullied me for two years straight. I had to spend my lunches hiding in that gross bathroom near the physics lab because someone kept putting out of order signs on the good one.”

Veronica’s eyebrows rose. “So, you brought him in as your partner in crime?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Again, not actually the bad guy. And his character gets what’s coming to him a little further on.” She smiled, probably going for sinister but ending up on goofy. “Let’s just say that was fun to write.”

Veronica supposed she could understand that. She had always been more about enacting her revenge, but it wasn’t like that didn’t come with its own set of problems. Maybe Ruby’s method was healthier, if a little odd.

She gave a little shrug and settled back to read some more.

#veronica mars #veronica mars fanfic #vm fanfic #vmhq presents #murder we wrote #round robin

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