#unmatched. argue w the wall.

[liverpool-enjoyer]

saw these on pinterest n yknow what,,, im kinda seeing it

[hinamie]

hi hina what are your top three pokemon games??

b/w & b2/w2 I BELIEVE IN GEN5 SUPREMACY !!! the MUSIC!!!! THE GRAPHICSSS GOD THE LIMITED 3D GRAPHICS THEYRE SO CHARMING!!!!!!! not to mention the loml N!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! god i feel so much about N. honestly the motivations of the evil team r actually so interesting and I think it makes for some of the most compelling story u see in the early pokemon games. pokemon liberation??? hello???? it's one thing to want to take over the world or like. flood the earth but to manipulate the masses and play to people's guilty conscience by insinuating that they might be Hurting pokemon by keeping them captive??? they did not have to cook so severely with that concept but i'm so glad they did. That being said I think I prefer the story of the original b/w games just because of how new and unsettling it was to encounter team plasma for the first time and all the interactions with N, but I do rly appreciate how the sequels expounded on them! colress is ok as a villain and even more ok as mad scientist twink eyecandy so I'll allow him gfsdjh I also do like that b2/w2 included more pokemon in the base games I love you early riolu i love you castelia city eevee encounter,,,. I also LOVE how they tried to pull a Trainer Red 2.0 with the postgame battle against the b/w MC in the sequels god gen5 is so GOOD :’)

Platinum i mean is anyone surprised hfdsjg sinnoh is art to me. fr all i rave about gen5 gen4 is the one I grew up with and played alongside my friend group as a kid so when it comes to the nostalgia factor, sinnoh is unmatched. The legendaries in this gen r iconic and so well designed there is not a single one that sticks out as a hard miss. sinnoh gave us cresselia and darkrai it gave us 2 forms of shaymin it gave us !!! glaceon!!!!!!!! i love u sinnoh always <3

hg/ss listen i know these games get a bit of a bad rep for having poor power scaling and being baby games in terms of difficulty but i do not care bc i can see my guys walking behind me and that is all i care about argue with a wall!!!!! also pokeathelon >>>>>>>> 

i also have to give an honourary mention to sw/sh gdfshjgdsjk games that arguably get an even Worse rep ik but hear me out. they were my return to the pokemon games after having skipped gens 6-7 entirely and I enjoyed my playthrough SO much I genuinely had so much fun. I wasn’t too put off by the glitches or the objectively bad plot, I was just so happy to be playing pokemon again :’> ALSO I am a proud Hop defender I respect the hell out of the writers for the arc they gave him. Was it rushed and underdeveloped yes but by pokemon game standards? I honestly found Hop’s self-doubt n identity crisis super moving sue me. Also the trainer character designs r so GOOD RAIHAN CALL ME 

another honourary mention to s/v gfjhd i haven't played it personally bc I could not get past the graphics of it but speaking of compelling pokemon storytelling,,, Arvin mr. mommy/daddy issues I care abt u so much. ALSO CHAR DESIGN HEAVEN HELLO LIKE GRUSHA?? RIKA??? CALL M E

[ohwiseswami]

WARNING: LONG POST.

NCT Wish is the most compelling boy group to debut in awhile and that's no shade to any of these other boy groups. They just have a perfect combination of talent, potential, good production/vision for what they're going to be, charisma, hyung line visuals, and it-factor.

Like when Sion performs he serves in a way that reminds me of Yeonjun. Man dances his ass off and adds his own sense of musicality to every move. His lines are always so precise and his body shape adds to the look of the moves (long ass legs).

When Riku exists, his face card and charisma is unmatched. And he performs like old-school YG idols. Plus, he has that confident idgaf but am grateful for my opportunity vibe (lmao) that is so hard to cultivate in kpop idols. I straight up cannot name a single idol, ever, let alone one that has debuted under SM, that has that type of it factor.

Vocal Line. Their vocal line is solid for 4th/5th gen standards and I can definitely see them improving to the NCT standard. But what they already have with a 19-year-old leading the pack is wild already and covers different tonal ranges (Yushi and Daeyoung for the higher register light and round vocal, respectively; and Ryo and Sion for the lower register light and round vocal, respectively).

Rap Line. Flow-wise rap line is already one of the strongest in SM. Listen, we all know that's not SM's strong suit so it's not a high bar to clear lmao. But even within NCT--with SM's strongest rappers--you can see Wish's rapline's placement. I think Riku and Sakuya are really only second to Mark and Taeyong and we shouldn't even argue this point. Also, Wish's rap line has rule of cool w/Riku fronting which adds a lot. Cherry on top is that, like other SM rap lines, Riku and Sakuya also have pleasant vocals (especially Riku) to go along with their nice rap style.

Dance Line. Dance line is led by one of the most musical and natural dancers I've seen in awhile (Sion). Then there's a lot of young talent in Ryo and a cool/confident-efficient style in Riku. Some might consider Yushi to be one of the best dancers in Wish but--and I say this respectfully--no. (S/n: Respectfully, their dance ranking is like this: Sion, Ryo, Riku, Yushi, [a brick wall] Sakuya, Daeyoung. I think Sakuya's big problem is his taller height making him look a little awkward at times--but that can be overcome with age and practice). A Sion-Ryo-Riku dance line has potential to be one of the better dance lines in their generation (though Ryo will need to grow more since sometimes I notice his small stature physically limits him, and Riku will have to execute every move with the same power and fluidity as he does in killing parts).

Overall Performance Skills. Their overall performance style is energetic and visually interesting, if a bit stiff/awkward sometimes (probably due to nervousness). But one thing I can really appreciate is their stable live vocals while dancing. No one else can do that in the past couple of generations' boy groups and I commend them for that. And they've gotten some really unique choreographies so far that would look stupid if performed by anyone else, yet look nice on them (kind of like some of SHINee's choreos). Lastly on this point, their sound is very appropriate and matches their voices.

Variety/Personalities/Image. As for their variety skills, we haven't seen much from them and SM is obviously pushing certain images on them. Like it's clear what they're going for:

parent-type leader Sion

hot guy/possessor of a single brain cell that sometimes works Riku

complete idol/perfect role model-type Yushi

pure vocal/older brother-type Daeyoung (or Jaehee, whatever they're wanting him to go by)

super baby genius/atheletically gifted Ryo

chaotic maknae Sakuya

Despite the personalities SM is assigning them, their real personalities seem to shine through (which heavily contrasts their assigned roles in the group). This is a good thing. And as they get more experienced, I expect that what seems to be their real personalities will come out more in variety, social media, and interviews (a la TXT). This will do wonders for them because everybody knows that SM's assigned personalities are always boring and patronizing lmao.

The Issue All The Dumb People Have With Them. Now, the elephants in the room: the two 16 year olds and predominantly recent trainees under the NCT brand. Honestly, this doesn't bother me as much as it does other people. I know people want a mature/suave concept but like...that doesn't mean the kids aren't talented? I admit I'd like to see Sion and Riku do something a little more akin to 127 style but what they have so far is actually pretty good and very on brand with 127. Despite the fact that they skew younger, they don't sound too kidz-boppy like when Dream first debuted.

And when it comes to watching their content/you hoes wanting something to thirst after, you can just choose to only pay attention to hyung line lmao. Like the group as a whole is super talented and ready to debut to the world. HOWEVER, to me, clearly Sion-Riku-Yushi catch your attention very easily, with Sion and Riku feeling like damn near generations apart from Sakuya. I've watched some of their variety and Sion and Riku give similar vibes with Sakuya as Taeyong & Doyoung do with Mark & Haechan. And when it's just Sion and Riku, you feel a completely different vibe than when they're with the other members. I like that, so I tend to gravitate toward Sion-Riku (and sometimes Yushi) content.

I find the line of thought that you have to bias every single member weird because it puts people in fucked up positions. You don't have to force yourself to be interested in every member. Of course there's even downsides to that (like people thinking you only like, say, Sion, for his visuals/so you can thirst), but it's not nearly as dire as the other scenario. If you naturally like Sion more, even if it's for a superficial reason, you shouldn't feel bad about being perceived as an akgae. You don't have to want to get to know all the members. Plus, if someone is policing the way you consume your entertainment they're a loser lmao.

Also, that being said, if you're over 18, it's not that you can't find Sakuya/Ryo entertaining. You can obviously think they're talented, funny, etc.

Also want to say that all the people mad at this group for existing because of their ages are moving real weird because half of y'all stan enhypen and also stanned older groups when they had underage maknaes (despite you yourselves being adults at the time). It comes off as hateration.

Then there's the folks mad at them for not being RIIZE lmao. Those people are just weirdos that honestly don't even deserve to be addressed. Like who cares that SungTaro aren't in NCT? They got to debut, didn't they? They're successful, aren't they? And they will probably continue to interact with 127, Way-V, and Dream more than even Wish will lol. You can still ship RIIZE with NCT folks (since that's really what this is about...), calm down.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to Wish and hope SM will give them bangers.

[mourn2]

i dont fucking care i do not care near is the best character he is unmatched. the absolute balls on him to tell LIGHT YAGAMI "you and i are no different" when he is undoubtedly the person light respects least. when absolutely nobody in the manga hated near more than light. to smack him in the face w reality like that minutes before emerging the victor was incredible argue with the wall

[main-to-card-games-and-pain]

fifty-four

I'm back on that angst train y’all! I just started university, I’m stressed to all Hell, and my most dear and wonderful friend - blondsak - wanted some angst, so here we are. I really hope you enjoy this piece, I worked on it for literal months. Reblogs are always appreciated. As always ST*RKERS CAN F*CK OFF. 

Read on A03

...

Tony Stark, despite popular belief, felt fear quite regularly. He had PTSD and frequent panic attacks, of course he did. The fear he felt when he woke up chained to a wall, the Hydra emblem gleaning at him in the red light of his cell was unmatched to anything he’d felt before. 

He remembered the attack in Manhattan, it had come out of nowhere, sudden charges of power exploding and taking out buildings in their wake. He’d felt the explosions throw his suit like little more than a plaything, all the civilians running, screaming, devastated. Then he was falling, the suddenness of it making his heart stutter in his chest.

Peter had called for him- Peter. 

Oh God, what if they had him too? They couldn’t have got him too. Please.

He didn’t remember what happened after he hit the ground, but he could guess. 

He was here, after all. He was here and he was terrified. 

Tony debated whether or not he should move and attempt to escape his restraints, at the risk of alerting his captors he was awake, or stay still and bide his time a for a little longer, when the door opened with a metallic screech and four silhouettes entered the cell. 

Perhaps in another situation the inventor might’ve made a sarcastic comment, but this was Hydra, and even Tony Stark wouldn’t dare. 

“We know you’re awake,” one of the silhouettes singsonged in an English accent. “You can’t hide anything from us here.” 

His voice sent goosebumps up Tony’s spine, like the brush of a razor blade - not painful but ever so threatening. He responded by lifting his head to face the man. 

He watched in mild fascination as the Hydra agent tapped his watch and activated a hologram which projected Tony’s heart rate, location, and a counter which at the moment said zero. The cuffs, the billionaire realized belatedly, the cuffs must have sensors in them. 

Swallowing, Tony made his first attempt at a reply. “Why am I here?”

Without warning the lights burst into existence, attacking Tony’s eyes with their fluorescence. He bit back a cry and shielded his eyes as best as he could, tilting his head to the side and furrowing his eyes shut. 

The room glowed it was so white.

Tony’s fingers itched for his sunglasses, the brightness of his surroundings pounding into his corneas and piercing the back of his skull. Warily he let his eyes relax open, hoping that they would eventually adjust and allow him to see his captors. 

They were grinning at him, sinister, dangerous things that reminded him of snakes more than people. He knew which one had spoken to him; the man was the only one dressed in a business suit whereas his colleagues all sported crude Hydra uniforms and were armed to their teeth. He had light skin, chestnut hair, and eyes so blue they appeared ethereal. 

“You’re here because we felt like it,” the man finally replied, touching another button on his wrist and releasing Tony’s cuffs from their chains. Tony landed with a grunt, his ankle giving out and sending him crashing to his knees. He made to get up but was halted by that man’s cutting voice once again, “No, stay there.”

Tony did, but didn’t shy away from making eye contact with his captor. “I like to know the name of my kidnappers,” he grit, clenched fists hanging uselessly at his sides. 

“Warner,” the man supplied, an amused smirk pulling his lip upwards. He bowed exaggeratedly. “At your service, oh Highness of Death.” 

“That’s not my title anymore.” It never was, Tony thought. 

“We’ll see about that, after we’re finished with you.” 

Cold washed through Tony’s veins. Before he could properly think about his words he was blurting, “I won’t build you anything, no matter what you do to me.”

Warner laughed. “We are not some low grade terrorists who want you to build us one of your infamous weapons. Firstly, we’ve our own; a fact you were made privy to in Manhattan today. Secondly, we know you’ve some experience with... physical coercion... but let me assure you that that is nothing compared to what we have in store for you.” 

Tony watched with dejected expectation as Warner pressed another button on his watch and the cuffs instantly began to shoot streams of agony through his veins. He collapsed to the ground with a hoarse shout, going boneless in the fire’s wake. His muscles were going to spasm but he could hardly care when his entire body was screaming in agony. 

It stopped as suddenly as it came, leaving the inventor panting on the ground. 

“A little more complex than simple waterboarding, yes? More effective I suspect as well.” 

“I told you, I won’t build you anything.” 

The entire group suddenly advanced on him, quickly invading his personal space as Warner knelt next to him and harshly yanked his hair back. 

“And I told you that that’s not what we’re after. No, you’re going to kill many, many people all because we want you to.” 

Tony blinked, his confusion evident. Flashes of the Winter Soldier invaded his mind and he wondered if the same fate awaited him.

“No,” Warner smirked like he could read his mind, his voice condescending, “we’re not interested in another of Steve Rogers’ ex-boyfriends becoming our newest assassin.” 

Tony couldn’t restrain his eye-roll. “Then what,” he grunted, “what do you expect me to do?” 

“You never had children, did you?” Tony’s body tensed at the sudden change in topic. 

“No,” he replied warily. “Never got around to it.” It was a lie, but not on paper.

“But you’ve a wife?”

“Never got around to making that official either.”

Warner hummed. “I don’t appreciate being lied to, Mr.Stark,” he tutted. 

“I haven’t-” he was cut off by a scream tearing its way through his throat, jerking messily against the ground as the cuffs reactivated. 

“I told you, you can’t hide anything from us here, including your whelp,” Warner hissed as Tony writhed, the inventor’s eyes widening in fear. “So I expect you to do as we say, or you can expect to watch dear Peter Parker be tortured until he begs for death, and then we’ll slit his throat and you can watch him bleed.” 

“N-no,” Tony gasped, “y-you don’t have him-” another wave of pain cut his sentence off. 

“Not yet, but we have you, how hard do you think it’ll be to get him here?” 

The pain ended abruptly, but Tony felt a new kind of pain rip through him at the thought of Peter being brought here. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do,” he hissed, “don’t bring him into this.”

“Good,” Warner smiled, standing straight and stepping away from Tony’s collapsed form. “In a few moments you’ll hear that door buzz open, when it does one of our more... disposable men will enter, unarmed of course. You will kill him, and if you fail you know what will happen.” 

 Eyes widened almost comically, Tony sputtered in response to the demand. “W-what? You’re insane! N-”

“I’d think very hard about what you’re about to say, Stark.” The man’s voice promised nothing but pain and blood and screams, gone was the false sense of amusement. “And the consequences of your actions.”

Something beeped and a projection flickered onto the wall opposite Tony’s restraints. The inventor gasped in dismay. “No. How did you...?”

“We’ve your suit, and you had quite a surveillance system set up for your boy. Poor thing, look at him, crying for his father.” Peter’s eyes were rimmed with red, and he looked truly wrecked as he stared aimlessly at his wall. It was a live feed, Tony could tell, Peter’s alarm clock blaring the time back at him. “Hydra is closer to him than you thought, I hope you realize.”

Tony’s suit was supposed to be un-hackable for this exact reason. He was supposed to keep Peter safe; the thought of him being taken and tortured because of him was unbearable. So he would do whatever they said, for he could handle blood on his hands but he couldn’t handle Peter’s. The feed cut away away and Tony felt such an immense sense of loss he couldn’t breathe. 

“Fine,” he whispered. “Fine, I’ll do it.” 

Warner smiled at him, reminding Tony too much of a shark. “Good,” he said, “I’m going to enjoy this.” 

Tony was only alone for a moment after they left, only able to try and come to terms to what he’d agreed to for a moment before an ugly, blaring, buzzing, sound went off and held for one second, two, and the door opened. 

The inventor stood, determined to face down his opponent with as much dignity as possible. But it was just a boy; he was in a Hydra uniform and looked very intent on killing Tony, but still, he was just a boy. 

Ten minutes later Tony collapsed back to the floor, the white room stained with a growing red, and he sobbed. 

And somewhere in the facility the counter in Warner’s watch beeped and the counter flickered from zero to one. 

...

Two months later

Peter knew that Mr.Stark was still alive, he would’ve felt if they killed him. When Rhodey found out it was Hydra behind the attack he’d taken Peter aside and told him that even if he was right Tony was as good as dead. 

Peter had pushed him, yelled at him, accused him of indifference and abandonment. 

The words felt like lead on his tongue as soon as he saw the flash of pain in the colonel’s eyes. Rhodey had lost his best friend, he missed him just as much as Peter did, and Peter had been cruel to him. The teen apologized the next day, but explained that he couldn’t just give up. 

Now he’d finally found a way to locate Mr.Stark, knew which warehouse he was being kept in, and Rhodey didn’t want him going. Talk about adult hypocrisy. 

“But I’m the one who found him,” Peter argued, pacing frustratedly. “You didn’t even want to try!”

“I did try, Peter,” Rhodey groaned, “and I’m proud of you for finding that warehouse but you have to understand why I can’t let you go.”

Peter wasn’t stupid, he knew what they’d all been doing since Tony went missing. Rhodey, Happy, even Pepper had gotten it into their heads that since they thought Mr.Stark wasn’t coming back it was up to them to protect Peter. 

“No, explain it to me. I’m enhanced, I can help.” 

“And what would Tony say to this?”

“Don’t do that,” Peter ground out. “Don’t use him as an excuse, if you won’t let me go you tell me why.” 

“Because I don’t want you seeing something you won’t recover from,” Rhodey finally hissed. “This is Hydra, Peter, do you understand what that means? That means that we have no guarantee that Tony is alive, and if he is, what condition he’s in. I don’t want you seeing that. And I don’t want to put you into that kind of danger, bringing you there.”

“Tony would go for me in a second.”

“Of course he would, Peter, but he’s an adult and you’re a-”

“Don’t call me a child, I’m not-”

“Yes you are. You’re Tony’s kid, and I can’t let you be hurt.”

“The other Avengers aren’t here anymore. You need me.” Grim satisfaction overtook Peter as he caught Rhodey’s jaw clench. He was right. Hydra was definitely Avengers business, and without the others the police may not be enough. “I won’t do the fighting bits Rhodey, just let me look for Mr.Stark, please.” 

Before, the colonel had always wondered how and why Tony always caved in whenever Peter begged him for something. Now, he understood just fine. 

“Fine, but things go south and you’re gone, promise.”

“I promise.” 

Peter had never needed anything as much as he needed to be there when they rescued Mr.Stark. It was like a primal instinct, the same instinct that had driven him to continue a seemingly hopeless search, or told him to cling to that spaceship when everything else told him to let go; he was quite sure he’d never have been able to sit idle on the sidelines. 

What the teenager hadn’t anticipated was the vehement resistance from Happy. 

He’d actually shouted at Rhodey about Peter’s attendance. Yelling about responsibility, and risk, and really yelling about Peter’s safety. In the end, he knew it was a losing battle, so in a moment of uncharacteristic tenderness he grabbed Peter by the arms and made the teen look at him. 

“You stay safe, you hear?” Peter nodded his head, trying to reassure the man with his eyes alone. “No, I want to hear you say it.”

“I already promised Rho-”

“Well, promise me now,” Happy insisted. 

“I promise I’ll do my best to stay safe.”

“Good.” Happy released him. “Because we are not-” the bodyguard cut off his sentence but Peter knew what he meant. We are not losing you too. “We’re not dealing with the paperwork of an injured intern.” 

“Of course not,” Peter grinned. “I probably won’t even be noticed, I’m going in in one of their uniforms.”

“Alright,” Happy said softly, taking a step back from Peter. He locked eyes with Rhodey and the two shared an understanding. 

Take care of him. 

I will. 

...

He remembered when the room was white enough to hurt his eyes. 

The blood had been so noticeable then, a splash of crimson that demanded his attention. Look at me, it shouted, look at what you did!

It shouted and it whispered and somehow it did both. 

Then the tenth body had been removed, the fifteenth, the twentieth, and the blood itself wasn’t so noticeable anymore, spread as it was around the room. The whispers, however, they were ever constant. 

But there was a routine. Rules. An order to things. They had never been unpredictably cruel to him and Tony didn’t know if he should be grateful or not. 

Because yes, he’d had his fair share of torture in the past weeks, agony that erupted from the cuffs and spread through his veins like liquid fire, but at least he always knew why. Why, and what he could do to not upset them in the future. 

And if he was good they let him watch Peter for a little while, sometimes he was patrolling (which wasn’t all that often anymore) and sometimes he was sleeping, but it was Peter and Tony knew it would be the only way he’d ever get to see the kid again. 

And then the signal would go off and the door opened and Tony attacked. Because that was the rule: noise=attack silence=kneel and if he got it wrong they’d make sure he was sorry. 

When he was done and the bodies were taken away he still felt the same guilt as his first, but he didn’t cry, not anymore. He felt shame too, he was little more than a trained dog and he knew it, despite being called his former moniker. Prince of Death indeed. 

Had they not threatened to take Peter if he died Tony was sure he’d have taken his own life by now. 

...

Peter heard the shouts and the bullets from above, enhanced hearing and all, and he winced every time a bullet cut off a shout, but it was necessary. 

No one really shot him a second glance, dressed as he was, face hidden under the standard issue ski-mask and uniform matching them all. Everyone was running around after all, no one person really in charge of what should be done about the twenty plus Iron Man suits attacking their base, headed by the War Machine. They were all just attacking the threat willy-nilly. Peter had a suit on him as well, underneath the Hydra uniform Spider-Man was waiting - more bullet protection than anything, he didn’t hope nor expect to be taking off his disguise - and in a buttoned pocket one of Mr.Stark’s nanobot watches. For when they took him home. When, not if.

He rushed through the corridors, mindful how the security progressively got tighter and tighter. The prison cells were around here, he knew it. 

574RK, one read. Peter recognized its other meaning instantly. STARK 

Huh. For the most deadly and cruelest evil organization in the world they sure had a lame sense of humour. 

Peter removed the Trojan drive from his belt, inserting it covertly into the keypad on Tony’s cell, waiting patiently as it flashed orange. The door would be open soon, and Tony would be on the other side, and he would be alive. Peter knew it. 

He had to be.  

...

By the time he’d breached the control room Rhodey was exhausted. Emotionally, spiritually, physically, you name it, he was tired. He didn’t like killing and yet he’d done enough of it today to last a person their lifetime. 

But then Peter’s voice had flickered through his comm, a hushed whisper of “I’ve located Mr.Stark’s cell, retrieval time is an estimated three minutes,” and Rhodey found within himself a new vigour. 

He prepared himself for another fight, so it was a jarring shock when he breached the control room and found not twenty men but one. One man, with light brown hair and piercing blue eyes, lounging with his feet propped on the desk and playing with a holographic image above his watch. 

Frankly, it stopped Rhodey in his tracks. 

“Good afternoon, Colonel Rhodes,” the man drawled with an English accent. “Did you make it here okay? I’ve found traffic in America doesn’t fare much better than London.” 

Rhodey would bet his entire life-savings that this man was in charge. He raised his blaster. “We got here fine, thanks.”

“Yes, you and the Peter Parker boy.” Rhodey froze, his heartbeat drumming obnoxiously in his ear. “Don’t worry,” the man teased, “we won’t touch him; our little deal with Mr.Stark.”

“Tony’s alive then?” Rhodey hoped it did not sound as desperately hopeful as he thought it did. 

“Of course,” Warner hummed, finally swivelling to fully face Rhodey. “Would you like to see?”

Rhodey watched tensely as Warner fiddled with his watch. His blaster twitched, unsure if there was a threat or not. The man seemed to see this, slowing his movements almost mockingly and displaying a new hologram. 

Tony’s face glared at Rhodey, right above his location - the warehouse they were in - and next to his steady heartbeat. It released a knot in Rhodey’s heart he hadn’t exactly known was there. Then something else caught the colonel’s eyes. 

Swallowing past a lump in his throat, he regained his voice. “What does fifty-four mean?” 

The Englishmen smiled, and it sent goosebumps up Rhodey’s spine. “You’ll see.” 

SHIELD definitely wants someone like him. “Get on your knees,” Rhodey said, regaining his nerve slowly, “hands up.” 

Warner complied, sinking from the seat in surrender. And still, Rhodey felt like he was the prey and this smirking, mild man the predator. 

“Before you take me in, I’m afraid there’s one more thing I must show you,” Warner said casually. “For I see that the boy hero is close to entering Anthony’s cell.” 

Rhodey’s eyes flickered to the security screens. He was right. “Don’t move,” he hissed. 

“Oh, but colonel,” the man grinned, “I assure you, you will want to see this.”

“I said don’t move!” Warner’s hands began to drift down from their surrender. “Stay where you are!” 

“Our final curtain;” Warner announced, “what we turned Tony Stark into...” And his hand shot for a button on the desk. 

Rhodey’s blaster fired, killing on impact.

But it was too late, because at that very same second four floors beneath them a cell door opened and a signal alarm blared through the air. 

...

Peter huffed a sigh of relief as the locking mechanism released. He was antsy to get in there and get Mr.Stark out. The noise that followed the door opening almost collapsed the boy where he stood, loud and shrill and so very ominous, but it ended after a few seconds and he was still standing, so he carried on. 

“Mr.Stark,” he called into the bright room, “Mr.Stark?”

It smelled overwhelmingly like copper. Peter realized belatedly that it was the stench of blood, the place positively was covered in it; Peter turned to the side, struggling not to vomit. 

A fatal mistake on his part, it turns out, because the next thing he knew he was being slammed to the ground by something - someone. Mr.Stark, specifically. No wonder his Spidey-Senses didn’t go off, Mr.Stark could never hurt him. 

Well- he definitely could, but he wouldn’t. Right? 

Tony’s fist slammed into his cheek, forcing his head against the cement-hard floor. Right. 

“Tony stop!” Peter twisted underneath his mentor’s knees, wrapping his own around the inventor’s waist and flipping them over. “It’s me! It’s Peter!” 

The man let out a guttural yell, pulling his fist back and swinging. Peter caught it easily, pushing it back towards the ground; he felt Tony’s wrist snap underneath his grip, and Tony screamed. 

“Shit,” the boy yelped, scrambling away from his mentor. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-” 

Peter watched wide-eyed as Tony tried to overcome the pain. His stomach churned with guilt, he was here to help Mr.Stark and he just broke his arm. The man was too weak for someone like Peter to handle roughly. Mr.Stark just didn’t know it was him, if he took off his ski-mask he would recognize him and it’d be fine. 

So he did. And it did nothing. Mr.Stark writhed for a second more before turning himself over, standing, and setting his eyes on the teenager again. It didn’t even look like he recognized Peter. 

Tony advanced on him still, clutching the fractured limb close to his chest. Peter began backing himself up towards the wall, determined not to fight the man. 

“Tony stop. It’s me, it’s Peter.” He felt his back hit the wall as the mechanic closed the distance between them. Peter lamely pressed his palms against the man’s chest, trying to gently push him away. “Mr.Stark, it’s me!” 

Even with the broken wrist Tony was able to strike Peter, the teen felt the fist collide with his cheek once, twice, and finally it twisted into his hair and smashed his head into the wall. 

The boy collapsed with a gasp, stars bursting across his vision. Tony didn’t waste any time, taking the opportunity to kick Peter’s ribs until he was sure one cracked. 

Now Peter’s Spidey-Sense was going off full gusto but he was too dazed to do anything without hurting his attac- without hurting Tony. 

“Stop!” He curled into himself as Tony’s blows began to escalate in force. “Tony, stop it,” he shrieked, “Stop it!” 

The inventor’s weight settled on his chest, the pressure of his knees adding a new layer of bruises. Panicked hands scrambled for purchase as the inventor made his intent to choke Peter’s life away very clear. Peter pushed the grip around his throat away as forcefully as he dared, flipping them over again. 

He was so dizzy, and a pain had spread to his entire body, permeating his muscles and blood vessels and bones. Tears trickled down his cheeks and splashed against Mr.Stark’s chest. 

Peter took his chance, knowing moving his arms would allow Mr.Stark to attack him again, he desperately smashed the button against his ear that opened his comm-link to Rhodey. 

“Rhodey!” he shrieked, his pain too intense to even try and hide the tears in his voice, “Rhodey I need hel-!”

Mr.Stark drove his knee into Peter’s stomach, earning his release and grappling with the teenager for his position. Knowing he’d be unable to get to his neck the inventor flipped the pair over and drove his elbow into the boy’s chest. 

Peter cried out before suddenly cutting himself off, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. It was like a vacuum had opened in his lungs, he was breathing but he wasn’t getting air. It felt... wet. 

Tony hit him again. And again. And again. And Peter realized he was sobbing because it hurt and it was Tony and he didn’t want to hurt him and he wasn’t even sure if he could at this point. 

Tony Stark was beating him to death. 

It was a disturbing reality to face because, by all means, it made no sense. Peter’s own brain was having a hard time even understanding that that statement was truth, reality, not a nightmare he could wake up from. 

That was the scene Rhodey found when he finally made it to the cell. His chest heaved with the efforts of his mad dash down there, but when he crossed the threshold into that horrific room he froze. 

He thought, when Peter had screamed for him, that he’d find his best friend dead and his kid being attacked by some Hydra agent; the mere thought of it had gripped his heart with despair but it was somehow better than this. 

Because this, this Hell of a scene where his best friend was beating Peter, meant that they’d well and truly broken Tony Stark. Because Rhodey knew with certainty Tony -two months ago - would have rather died than hurt his kid. 

“Tony!” He sprinted across the room to where the two were struggling with each other, ripping the inventor away from the teen. “Tony, what are you doing?!” 

Rhodey didn’t expect the ferocity that Tony fought him with, animalistic struggles desperate to attack the boy. “Tony! It’s Rhodey! You need to stop! It’s over! It’s over!” 

Tony blinked a few times, the change in routine disorientating him away from his now automatic response. It was like something had cut all of his strings, he sagged in Rhodey’s arms, unable to hold himself up anymore. 

The realization of what he’d done came crashing through his mind and ripped horrified wails from his throat. 

“No... no, no, no, no, no, Peter-” he sobbed, “Rhodey please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, help him.” 

Peter watched the scene through blurry eyes, his tears and blood obscuring his vision. He didn’t understand what was happening; why Mr.Stark started nor why he now stopped, why he was desperately sucking air and yet still felt like he was drowning, why he hurt everywhere and yet felt absolutely numb. In a kind of displaced way, he could feel his body’s efforts to heal him, had he been unenhanced he’d be dead, because none of his injuries were mending. He knew everything he had was being spent keeping himself alive. 

Rhodey reluctantly let his grip slacken, wincing a bit when Tony collapsed to the ground in both pain and anguish. The man was gasping wretched, horrible breaths, rocking and pulling at his hair, almost unaware of the unnatural angle of his arm. 

Dear God, what happened to him?

The thought didn’t have long to settle in the colonel’s mind before his attentions were turned back to Peter. 

Peter, who had blood dribbling down his mouth, and was making awful wet sounding noises that might’ve been gasps for air, and was slowly beginning to slow his movements as he fell unconscious. 

Rhodey rushed to him with widened eyes, terror making his limbs clumsy and stiff as he examined the child. Tony made another desperate plea and stumbled towards them. It was instinctual, and Rhodey didn’t mean to, but everything was so confusing because Peter had been attacked and the attacker was still there, but it was Tony and Tony looked and sounded devastated, but he was the attacker. 

And all of this left Rhodey confused and desperate to protect the both of them. So when Tony rushed towards them the colonel hadn’t had time to sort through everything that happened and just reacted.

Tony stumbled forward only to halt like he’d been hit as Rhodey rounded on him and protectively shielded Peter. “No, stay there,” his friend barked, half looking like he was going to shoot him. 

He could. Tony was a threat. Look at what he did. 

Something snapped in his chest at the thought. Rhodey saw it break and immediately regretted his actions, but he didn’t know what to do. Shaking away his own anguish the ever in control solider fished the watch from Peter’s pocket and approached Tony as fast as he dared to. 

It was hard to talk through the tightness in his chest as he watched his friend kneel unprompted in front of him with practiced ease, tears gathered on his lashes and staining his face. He took Tony’s arm gently and snapped the watch on, his fingers brushing over the cuffs despairingly. “We’ll find a way to get these off soon,” he mumbled. “Until then, FRIDAY take us home.” 

The nanobots encased their creator, responding both to and for him as they formed his suit, following taking flight with their pre-designated route. Meanwhile, Rhodey awkwardly picked Peter up and followed, hoping to God that he wasn’t too late, for either of them. 

...

It was a rush from there, they’d expected a mad dash back to the medical facility, so the med team was ready, but they weren’t expecting two patients in such critical condition.

Not that Tony was accepting any medical attention, oh no, some things never change. 

As soon as the Mark had released him he’d collapsed away from it, not waiting for the nanobots to degenerate back to his wrist and instead ripping away the watch and throwing it away from himself. 

Despite his absence he could still maneuver the suit like it was a second nature, he simply didn’t have the energy. 

Happy had been waiting for him, the hope that lit in his eyes when he saw his boss and friend return alive might’ve endeared Tony before, but now it just nauseated him. 

The inventor swayed just enough to snap Happy out of his stupor and the man rushed towards Tony just in time to catch his collapsing form. 

“We’re gonna take a trip to the MedBay now,” he murmured shifting Tony in his arms a bit. He didn’t expect the resistance he was met with. 

“No!” Tony tried pushing himself away from his friend’s grip. “Peter-” he gasped, and Happy felt a jolt of fear freeze his blood, “Peter needs it more than me - help him- oh God,” Tony wailed. 

Struggling to keep his composure Happy angled the inventor so he had a grip on both his arms but they now faced each other properly. “What happened to Peter, Tony?” There was an urgency in his voice that pulled Tony out of his tormented ramblings. “Tony, Peter and Rhodey aren’t back yet, you need to tell me what happened so I can tell the med team.” 

“I did,” he whispered. 

Alarm bells rang in Happy’s head but he persisted. “What exactly happened?”

“He took a beating,” Tony swallowed, looking haunted as ever, “his rib broke, I felt it go... he- he was spitting blood; I think his lung collapsed. And, and internal bleeding. He might have internal bleeding too.” 

Happy nodded frantically and released Tony for a moment, nervously glancing at him every few seconds, making sure he didn’t collapse as he called Cho. When he returned it was like the inventor had just... shut down. 

“Okay,” Happy said as softly as he could. “Okay let’s get you to the MedBay now too.”

“No,” Tony snarled, “I told you, Peter needs it more.”

“Boss, you need to go to the MedBay you’ve been-”

“They made me see a... someone, every few weeks. Or if I was hurt. I’m fine.” Happy didn’t look too convinced. “Look, if I died or couldn’t put up a fight I was no fun, okay? I’m fine.”

Happy might have fought with Tony more had Rhodey and Peter not arrived in that moment. Tony stiffened, too ashamed and too frightened to turn and see his carnage up close again. Instead, he watched as Happy’s breath hitched in dismay, his eye widening at the sight of Peter, bloodied and mangled. 

“End of the hall,” he managed to bark. “Helen’s waiting. Tony already told me probable injuries.” 

Rhodey nodded silently, casting his own worried glances at his friend while rushing the teenager away to his hopeful salvation. 

As soon as the mechanic lost sight of Peter it was like his last shred of hope and goodness and light had disappeared too, because he absolutely lost it. Happy darted to catch him again as his knees gave way to his grief, pulling the friend he thought he’d lost for good closer to his chest while he sobbed. 

“I did it!” Tony finally cried, unprompted and innocent but still confessing. “I’m the reason Peter- I was the one who-”

But Happy didn’t care, he gripped Tony tighter and let a few of his own tears loose. 

Eventually, when Rhodey was finished helping prep Peter, he made his way back to where the crumpled pair sat. Gently the colonel lowered himself to their level, crouched where Tony could see him. 

“You were right about the lung,” he whispered. Tony flinched. “They’re going for emergency surgeries now. Now it’s time for you to-” 

“I already told you, no,” Tony hissed. 

“Peter broke your arm Tony,” Rhodey growled. “And I know there was other stuff that... happened.” 

Happened. Past tense. Like it wasn’t still happening as Peter bleed into his lungs. Like this wasn’t the worst thing they’d done to him, could do to him. 

“He needs-” 

“Not everyone on your team is a surgeon Tony, we’ll just go see someone not working right now to set your arm.” 

Maybe it was because he was so, so tired, or maybe it was because he simply didn’t have the energy to fight anymore, but Tony finally agreed. 

Outside the observation windows Happy pulled Rhodey to the side and hissed, “What the Hell happened?” 

“You think I don’t want to know that too?” 

“How did Peter-”

“Tony did it.” 

“What?”

“I got there and Tony was beating the crap out of Peter; he was trying to kill him.”

The statement hung heavy in the air, neither man knowing what to say to that. 

“Colonel Rhodes,” the doctor finally called, “he’s asking for you.”

Rhodey nodded and followed her into the small sterile med-room, where Tony was laying on the cot with a newly cast arm. He glanced at Rhodey indifferently but sat himself up nevertheless. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Like I look,” Tony replied, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. So, terrible. 

Rhodey huffed and slumped down on the bed as Tony shifted over, and they lapsed into an awkward silence. Silences weren’t usually possible with Tony, he’d always rambled when he was nervous; so this was wrong on so many levels. Everything was wrong. From the moment they got to the facility- no, the moment Tony was taken. 

 “I wasn’t mind-controlled, brainwashed, drugged, or otherwise unaware,” the inventor finally stated matter-of-factly. “I was completely in my right mind when I attacked the kid.” 

“We both know that isn’t true,” Rhodey growled, just barely tipping his head to watch Tony’s facial expressions - he didn’t really have any. “I took an external drive of their file for you; what are the chances I find they didn’t just leave you in a cell for two months?” 

Tony quirked an eyebrow like he was amused and huffed a laugh. “Is that how long it was? Felt longer.” He laid down again, the world once again too heavy. “Did he show you the watch?”

Shifting uncomfortably, in a way only Tony knew he did, Rhodey hesitated. “Yeah, he did.”

“What was the number there?”

Another hesitation, another unknown territory. “Fifty-four.”

A sharp laugh that was too much like a sob escaped the inventor, and a wince in a way only Rhodey knew he did. “Christ that’s a lot. That could put me in a record book somewhere for that.”

“What does fifty-four mean?” Rhodey snapped. Tony went quiet, and then turned himself away from his friend, the broken arm cradled close. 

“People,” he finally mumbled. 

“Excuse me?” A million scenarios rang through Rhodey‘s head, each somehow more horrifying than the other, and he found himself blanching. 

“People,” Tony repeated, softer. “People who I killed while I was there.” 

Rhodey felt the breath leave his lungs, but not like he was choking, like he’d been punched. Tony still wasn’t looking at him, but the colonel could imagine the guilt-stricken, pained expression ruining his expression. 

“So, uh- how long until we find out if it’s fifty-five?” 

“Tony,” Rhodey warned, “stop it. Peter’s going to be fine, and it wasn’t your faul-”

“I wouldn’t have stopped. I would have kept going until he was dead, and then I would have been glad. Just for a bit though, before I realized I just beat my kid to death.” And wow was there a lot to unpack there.

“Why would you have been glad?” His voice was so soft a draft could’ve carried the words away were Tony not clinging to them.

“No torture, food, they would have maybe let me see Peter.” It seemed so simple now, what he’d been living and killing for, but he remembered the complicated mess of his mind every time the buzzer went off. He didn’t remember fighting for those things when he’d do it, not after a while, after a while he would just do it. 

“Show you Peter?”

“They hacked my security.” The statement wasn’t as horrifying as it’d first been, he’d come to realize he couldn’t actually do much good to his loved ones. “Sometimes he’d let me just watch him. They said if I didn’t- if I didn’t do as I was told they’d take him instead.” 

“You didn’t have a choice then Tony; you were forced, conditioned even.” 

“Still fifty-four people dead because of me,” Tony hummed. “You took care of him, when you thought I was dead.” 

The abruptness of the topic change left his companion scrambling for ground, Tony could tell, but the whole affair was rather shaking to begin with. “Yes,” Rhodey replied eventually, “we knew it’s what you would have wanted.”

“I do,” Tony whispered, choking on a lump in his throat. “And it makes me feel better that you’ll do it again, right?” 

Every muscle in Rhodey’s body went rigid. “What does that mean Tony?” The inventor didn’t answer and Rhodey’s mind was assaulted by image after image of a drunken college student confessing he was ready to die at twenty years old. That was then, after what’s happened now? “What does that mean?” 

“I can’t see that kid after this, I mean Christ, look what I did to him.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous Tony! Peter was the one who fought to find you! He wanted you back more than anything else!” Tony had not said Peter’s name through the entire conversation. 

“Yeah, and look what I did! Some gratitude right? Punctured lung, internal bleeding, pain for weeks!” 

“You thought you didn’t have a choice! You are not walking away from him after he-”

“This is not your decision to make! You’ll see, he’ll never want to see me again, I guarantee. He shouldn’t have to! If he knew what was best he’d pack up and get as far away from me as possible! So just- just look after him, okay?” 

Tony sat up faster than he had any right to do, with the shape he was in, and stormed away. 

“Where are you going?” Rhodey followed him, too wary of his injuries to reach and grab him back. 

“I’m going to see if I can still do something worthwhile with my fucking time or if I forgot how to do that too! Tell me if I killed the kid or not but otherwise leave me alone.” 

He’d descended the stairs to the lab and locked the door before Rhodey could even think to reply. 

...

The next few hours were a painful blur for all involved. 

Peter, not having Tony there to calculate his anesthesia, woke up once during his operation. It was bad; the boy had woken up howling in pain, and for a moment the surgeons had thought his flailing would be so bad that they wouldn’t be able to safely approach him. Luckily for all, Peter had stilled on his own and mewled in pain instead. 

It was not easy for Rhodey and Happy to watch, but they both agreed - no one tells Tony about it; it’d just be more ammunition for him to hate himself with. 

If Happy had to excuse himself to throw up, and Rhodey later had to go to the training room and take out his frustrations destroy it, that was no one’s business. 

In truth, they’d both hoped for this day, dreamed about it, as much as Peter had. But unlike Peter, they’d known there would be a price to pay for their friend’s return. If this was the price they weren’t sure they were ready to pay it. 

But Peter survived, he was brought into the recovery room Tony had once jokingly called his. (It was the nearest to Tony’s bedroom.) Now, the joke was just a bit too close to home to repeat. 

Pepper was told of Tony’s rescue over a phone call, because Rhodey was a coward. There was no sobbing in relief, or soft exclamations of gratitude to a higher power. No, there was only a breathless gasp and nimble whisper of, “How bad is it?” 

“Bad,” Rhodey replied. “It’s real bad Pep, I don’t think he’s ready to see you yet.” 

“Alright.” And the call ended. 

But Tony was the worse of them all. 

He didn’t remember how to tinker, as he’d so hoped he would - just to get that agonizing screaming out of his head; sometimes Peter, sometimes one of the others, sometimes Peter but dying like he’d killed the others - and had instead opted to destroy whatever he could find. 

He screamed at a god he didn’t believe in anymore, asking Him why, why he’d been so cruel. What was the point? Of Tony doing all of that to keep Peter safe only to kill him himself. He understood wanting to punish him, but Peter was just a child, he was innocent. 

Jesus Christ, he’d killed his own kid. He- he begged Tony to stop, he was confused too. Tony had wanted to kill him, he remembered what was almost pure instinct running through his veins and all he could think of was the possibility of seeing Peter if he did this right. 

Peter hadn’t wanted to hurt Tony. He wouldn’t even raise his hands after he broke his wrist; he shouldn’t have stopped with the wrist. 

Tony was absolutely certain that if Rhodey came down and told him they’d lost Peter that he would follow shortly after. 

Though, he doubted he would be going to where Peter would be; Hell is a much more appropriate destination for murderers like him. 

His body, as it was, was beginning to fail him. Holding on to any thought was growing more and more difficult, trickling through his fingers like water. (Or blood.) His fingers bled from his rampage, both in his lab and in his Hell, as did the soles of his feet. He was bruised in so many places it was easier to say where he wasn’t bruised. 

It had nothing on what his mind was doing. 

MurdererMurdererMurderer- FIFTY-FOUR - I wonder what their names were; no,no,no,no! Peter’s dead because of you. You you you always you. You’re poisonpoisonpoisonpoison you should take poison, you deserve it. Peter’s dead. Dead dead DEAD DEAD. You liked it you liked killing him you wouldn’t stop he begged you to stop and you didn’t. Monster. Monster. MonsterMonsterMonsterMurdererMurderer- fifty-four is a lot. Listen to him scream he screamed they all screamed and you didn’t stop murderer murderer murderer monster. WHY? you know why you know it’s because you’re poison. Anything you touch is ruined. Fifty-four is a lot - fifty-four? Fifty-five. 

So many. Too many. 

No matter how much he screamed his agony, or sobbed bonelessly against the floor, or sat numbly against a lab bench which had once felt like home, his mind kept screaming. He didn’t think it’d ever stop screaming. 

That’s how Rhodey found him, hours later. After Peter had finished his disaster surgery. Tony sat against his and Peter’s old bench, staring at nothing, looking absolutely destroyed; looking dead.

“Peter is alive,” he announced first, knowing it was the only thing Tony cared about right now. “He’s in recovery but they’re pretty confident that with the healing factor he’ll be okay in a week or two.”

Tony nodded minutely, the only response he’d put his battered body and throat through. 

“Do you want to see him...?” Rhodey crouched in front of him, taking stock of every injury big or small, of the burns and abrasions on his wrists, of the bruises, of the hollowness of his eyes. 

“No,” Tony croaked. “No, I told you what’s going to happen.” 

“Peter wouldn’t want that Tones- doesn’t want that.  He won’t blame you for any of this.” 

“Yeah, well, Peter’s always been too trusting for his own good.” 

I should have never knocked on that kid’s door. 

... 

So for the first time in the two years they’d known each other, Peter woke up in the MedBay alone. 

He was sore pretty well everywhere, aching in a way he’d never experienced before. His head pounded something fiercely and his chest positively screamed. 

But all of that didn’t matter; Tony wasn’t here. Tony was always here. 

And then he remembered what had happened - all of it - from Tony’s capture to the moment they got him back. 

He broke Tony’s arm. 

Tony would obviously never really want to hurt him, he’d just been confused, and Peter broke his arm for it. Maybe that’s why Tony wasn’t around. Or what if he was hurt before all of that (he probably was, he was with Hydra for two months) and it was all too much and he collapsed or something? 

His heart monitor gradually increased speed until it was going crazy, and with its sudden appearance also came Happy. Peter’s breathing shuddered in his chest, causing quick jabs of pain to radiate through his lungs, but it slowly slowed as Happy rubbed his back as gently as he could. 

He appreciated it, he did. He loved Happy, and he’d been great for the past two months, but he wanted Mr.Stark. 

“Where’s Mr.Stark?” He drew away from Happy, not liking the look of foreboding on his face. “Is he okay? What happened after I passed out? Happy?” 

“He’s okay, kid,” Happy finally responded, unable to mask his trepidation, “physically, anyways. But- uh- mentally he’s not doing great. For a while there it wasn’t looking good...” the bodyguard trailed off before gasping once in relief. “You have no idea how good it is to see you awake Peter.” 

“How long have I been asleep...?” He was sixteen years old, he shouldn’t sound like a child, and yet in that moment that’s exactly how he sounded; scared and unsure. 

“Just a day, but they thought it might be longer. No one really knew how your healing factor would react to what happened.” 

“Right, yeah, I remember feeling it work really hard on the inside and not so much on the outside; must be why I’m still so sore,” Peter huffed a half-hearted laugh. “So, I uh- I got close hey?” 

There was a silence that could cut and then, “Closer than anyone ever wants repeated. It was terrifying.” 

Peter broke eye contact first, fiddling with his bedsheets instead. “And Tony doesn’t want to see me, because of it?” 

It didn’t take a genius to work out that Tony would be feeling guilty about this, he thought he was responsible for the world when it came to Peter and so this? This was probably ten times worse than usual. 

“-but he wants to see you, Peter.” Peter blinked, suddenly realizing Happy had been talking. “Are you okay kid, you look a bit spacey... I don’t think they gave you any morphine...” 

“No, no, it’s- I don’t know, I feel a bit woozy to be honest - I’ll sleep it off. I probably just have a bit of a concussion or something, so just wake me in a few hours.” 

“Sure kid.” Happy turned away to leave but stopped- “Peter, do you remember your surgery?” 

“No...” 

Oh thank God.

“I’m guessing I woke up? Otherwise you wouldn’t ask.” Happy winced, Peter was so clever, too clever sometimes.

“Just go to sleep, kid.”  

... 

When he woke up again everything felt much better, except his head, which had zeroed in on one spot and promptly decided to do its best ice pick impression, but he normally had a bit of a headache after a concussion, so he ignored it and focussed on his company. 

No Tony, yet. But Rhodey was visiting with Happy and Pepper. He’d asked of course, but figured it was rather a pitiful sight when his “Is Tony coming?” Was met with a quick shaking head and his own crestfallen expression. 

Tony always made sure he was okay. 

He’d been filled in on everything that had happened to his mentor in the time he was gone, possible triggers, why things had happened as they did, etc. He felt sick just thinking about it. 

He hacked Rhodey’s servers, watched some of the footage, and did get sick. 

But they’d moved on from grim topics for now. Now they were chatting not-quite-happily as Peter adamantly defended his position on why Hercules is the best Disney movie of its time, and Rhodey tries to rebuff that anyone else would say The Lion King had Hercules beat by miles. 

“But you can un-ironically bop to the music from Hercules though,” Peter rebutted, “I don’t know anyone who parties to “Under the Sea.”” 

“Wrong movie, and you’re just not hanging out with the right people then, kid.” 

“Jesus, kid, what is your morphine on?” Happy interjected, leaning in close to Peter’s face. “Your eyes are absolutely blown.” 

“ ‘m not on morphine,” Peter mumbled, confused. “Wish I was, my head is killing me.” 

“Want your water?” Pepper asked, already standing to fetch it. 

“Sure. Yea’wat’r soun’s good,” Peter slurred, furrowing his brow when the words wouldn’t come properly. Everyone else was watching him intently too, wearing similar masks of confusion and concern. 

Pepper held the plastic cup towards him, he reached to grab it and tipped it onto Pepper’s shirt, having pushed it towards her instead of holding it. The woman gasped but was unconcerned about the blouse, Peter shouldn’t be behaving like this. 

“Sorry! I’m s’ sorry...” he tried, wincing again. “My head... h’rts.” 

“Rhodey,” Happy looked to the colonel, who looked just as alarmed, “what’s going on? Is he on a new medication?” 

“Two plus two, Peter,” Rhodey demanded, catching the teen’s attention, “what’s two plus two?” 

“Five...?” 

“Call the doctor.” Rhodey whipped around to order Happy, but the man was already off, pressing the call button and waiting for Cho’s appearance. “I didn’t see him hit his head, but if he did and it was hard...” 

Pepper stripped Peter’s bed of all the various objects he’d had strewn about. “Stay awake,” she snapped at the boy as his eyes drifted shut. “Don’t sleep Peter.” 

Too late. He slipped unconscious and his heart monitor gradually began to slow. 

“Rhodey!” 

“I know Pepper, there’s nothing I can do until-”

“Cho’s here, what the Hell is going on?” 

How could something that had been so mundane go so wrong, so quickly? 

“Someone needs to get Tony,” Pepper finally hissed, “he needs to be here, whether he wants to or not.” 

No one dared argue against Pepper Potts when she used that tone. 

“I’ll get him.” Rhodey cast one last look at Peter, who wouldn’t wake up no matter how hard Happy shook him. The doctors were rushing in now, ready to assess and diagnose and hopefully treat. Happy and Pepper were going to be removed from the room soon too. 

He darted away, leaving Pepper and Happy to listen to Cho as she began to dictate to her team. 

“We missed the head wound during initial surgeries and I don’t think his enhanced healing is able to combat this,” she said as she began her assessment. She shone a light into Peter’s eye and stilled. “ICP is at critical; prep the surgery room.” 

Happy and Pepper knew better than to get in their way while they helped Peter but as soon as the flurry of doctors and movement had begun to take the kid away they grabbed onto Cho. They needed an explanation, he was recovering - what the Hell happened?   

“His ICP is dangerously high, we need to release it immediately.” 

“We don’t know what that is,” Pepper ground out, “just- what is wrong with him? 

“His intra-cranial pressure has been increasing since he was hurt; it’s caused by a brain bleed.” 

...

“Tony you need to come see Peter, now.”

“I already told you-”

“Something’s wrong!” That stopped the inventor in his tracks. “He was talking with us, he kept saying his head hurt and then all of a sudden it was like his brain just shut off. Slurred speech, no motor control, no comprehension; Tony, you need to be up there.” 

In case he dies, was left unsaid.  

Tony was standing stock still, his whole body tense as he listened to Rhodey, but only for a moment - the next he was gone, sprinting for the MedBay. 

There were many, many, things he’d never forgive himself for - this was one of them - but he’d realized last time that sitting and waiting for news was worse, cowardly.

Before then, he’d always wondered why dying patients had their loved ones called; why would you want a family to watch their loved one die? 

Now he knew, it was about being there to the very end, about showing that person - if there was something afterwards - that they’d impacted their life. Peter Parker had done that with Tony Stark more than could be possibly put into words. 

He wasn’t prepared for the moment he skid to a stop outside of the surgery room, only to be met with a devastatingly flat heart monitor. 

The doctors shocked Peter’s chest, no change. 

“No,” he gasped breathlessly, “no, no, no... Peter- c’mon buddy, come back.” 

Happy had his fists clenched by his sides as he watched, nails creating little half-moon shapes in his palms. Pepper had looked away. Rhodey gasped as he caught up. 

Tony’s world was ending. 

“Come back,” he wailed, “come back Peter please.” Another shock, more compressions, no change. “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry Peter. Please...” 

Another shock. Tony’s legs wouldn’t hold him anymore, Rhodey caught him. “I’m sorry Tony,” he was murmuring, “I’m sorry- we shouldn’t have- you shouldn’t have to watch this.” 

The billionaire wailed again, fighting Rhodey’s hold to desperately hold onto the window ledge. “Peter, please. You can’t go; you’re supposed to be safe. I was supposed to keep you safe.” 

The doctors were still trying to bring him back. 

This was somehow so much worse than the first time around. Rhodey understood why Tony had retreated to his lab now - he wouldn’t have been able to handle the first surgery. 

Tony’s sobs echoed down the hall, no one daring to make any other sounds. “Come back, come back, come back, come back...” 

It felt like all the air in his chest had been ripped away, he wished it was, because this hurt. It hurt worse than anything he could have possibly imagined - and it was his fault. 

He wanted to scream, he wanted to sob, he wanted to die. 

And then Peter’s heart started beating again. 

“Oh my God,” Pepper breathed. Tony couldn’t do anything but gasp, watch the line move with Peter’s heartbeat. He hiccuped, watching the monitor for any change until they’d finished. 

Alive. He was alive. AliveAliveAlive 

No thanks to you. 

After what was wrong with Peter was explained to him he felt that gut-twisting sense of guilt again - he remembered the exact moment Peter had been hit hard enough to cause a brain bleed; he’d slammed his head into a wall. 

He followed Peter into recovery and watched him sleep for just a moment, he turned to leave, stopping only when Pepper’s slim hand encircled his own. 

“You can’t disappear again,” she whispered, “he was crushed. You need to do what’s best for him - even if you feel it’s not what you feel is best - and stay. I know it’s hard, but Peter needs you here.” 

And God, Tony had never wanted anything more. But-

“Pepper, I did this to him.” 

“He knows, and he still wanted to talk to you. If you’re going to cut yourself out of his life at least let him say he wants it that way, otherwise you’re just punishing him as well as yourself. He understands what happened to you, and I think- I think you will too, eventually, after we get you some help.” 

Tony nodded, his gaze going back to his sleeping son. “He- we almost lost him.” 

“And he almost lost you. Don’t waste anymore time - just sit with him.” 

Tony swallowed, pushed away the screaming in his head, and sat stiffly next to the boy. Pepper’s heels retreated, shutting the door behind her gently. Tentatively, hesitantly, like an abused dog, Tony reached out and and grasped Peter’s hand with his own. 

It felt like home. 

The blood had been removed from his brain, the pressure had been released, his vitals had been stabilized, the only thing left was completely up to Peter - he needed to wake up. 

At some point after the first three hours Tony had begun talking to him, anything and everything really. He talked about old memories the two had shared, and he made promises for new adventures for them to partake in; he bargained with Peter to wake himself up, and if the universe had worked like that he would’ve willingly given it anything. 

“You know,” Tony said softly, rubbing a circle on Peter’s wrist, “when I first woke up in that Hydra facility I was so terrified that they had you too. You were my one mercy - that you weren’t with me was both a blessing and a curse, but I missed you so much, Pete. I stayed alive for you; kept living in hope that I’d see you again, safe and sound, and I knew that if I died they’d take you anyways.”

Tony huffed out a laugh, tightening his grip around Peter’s wrist. “It ended up not being them that hurt you, it was me. And I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for that,” he took a shaky breathe, steeled himself to say words that needed to be said, “and because of that, I figured I’d leave you alone. I didn’t want to be reminded of what I’d done to you, or ever have the chance of doing it again. But I was wrong Peter.” 

A sob ripped itself from his throat. “I was wrong to do that, and it was selfish and cowardly of me and I’m sorry Peter, I’m so, so sorry. I love you so much, I can’t- I can’t lose you. And I can’t run from you, I won’t, never again. And I need to say this to you but you need to wake up for me to do that so please - whatever you want, whatever price I have to pay, I’ll do it; just wake up.” Tony wasn’t sure who he was talking to by the end of it. 

If this were a fairytale, or a movie, Peter would wake up then. But it wasn’t and he didn’t. So the only thing that met Tony’s emotional declaration was the sound of the teenager’s beeping heart monitor, but honestly, Tony would take it. 

Much better than the silence he never wanted to hear again. 

As it turns out however, life had its own mercies. One of them was that when Peter Parker did wake up it was during a time when Tony Stark was also awake. 

He hadn’t liked waking up alone, before. So when his eyes blinked open and he saw his mentor there, holding his hand, his face split into a grin. 

“It’s you,” he breathed. “You’re here.” 

Tony’s head snapped up, his eyes searching Peter’s face in a desperate kind of hope. Peter met him with all the trust and love in the world, still contently smiling purely at the man’s very presence. 

“Peter,” Tony whispered, standing a bit faster than he could. “How- You’re- How do you feel?” 

“I’m alright,” Peter answered easily. “I’m really glad you’re here.” 

“I... I messed up kid, I know that, and I’m so, so sorry but-”

“Mr.Stark, it’s okay... I heard you.” Peter’s voice sounded brittle, Tony knew if he tried to speak his would be already broken. “I, um- I know what happened at that place. I was told and... I saw some of the footage.” Tony turned away, the whispers of murderer gaining volume. “I don’t blame you for what happened, I never have, but what they did to you there-”

To the inventor’s horror, tears formed in Peter’s eyes. “Oh, no, bud- don’t. It’s okay, don’t cry.” Tony wanted to hold him, his fingers absolutely ached with the want, but he refrained. “Don’t cry Peter, it’s over now.” 

“No, it’s not! Cause they hurt you so many times and it was because of me and then I hurt you, and now you won’t even touch me, you didn’t want to even see me.” Peter’s tears fell unbidden, his distress palpable. 

“No, Peter- You did nothing wrong, and I wish you would have fought me harder. I... I didn’t know if you’d want me to be around anymore, after what I did.”

“How could you wonder that? I missed you; I know you’d never intentionally hurt me, and... and I know you love me.” The last point Peter sounded unsure about, which was absolutely unacceptable. 

“Peter, look at me,” Tony realized belatedly he’d taken hold of the teen’s arms “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything before. You’re my kid. You mean the world and beyond to me, and losing you... that’s my Hell on earth.”

“Don’t leave me behind then,” Peter whispered, drawing his arms up and around Tony’s neck. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, but you taking the blame for this isn’t on the agenda. Just don’t- don’t disappear again.” 

Tony hesitantly reciprocated the gesture, wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist and just holding him. “I won’t,” he promised, “not like that again.”

Peter let out one more sob, his arms tightening around his mentor’s neck. “I thought I was never going to see you again,” he cried, burrowing his head into Tony’s neck. 

“Me too.” Tony pulled him closer, mindful of the still sore ribs. The cast lay awkward and heavy against Peter’s back, but Tony could live with it. Tony could live with anything, so long as Peter did too. 

They both calmed down a bit after, but didn’t release the other from their hold. Right now, this was what they both needed. Peter fell asleep nestled in Tony’s embrace, the inventor felt the moment the breaths on his neck evened. 

This used to happen a lot, before everything had happened. He’d taken it for granted then, but he wouldn’t now; like Pepper said, no more wasted time. 

He carded his fingers through Peter’s hair, traced circles on his back, absentmindedly place a kiss against his forehead. It had been hard to find the courage to touch Peter again, now it was doubly so to let go of him. 

He eventually got Peter tucked back against his pillows, detangling lanky teenage limbs from his neck. 

The inventor cast one more fond smile at his kid and rose to leave. Peter’s hand shot out and caught his uninjured wrist. 

“Don’t go...” he mumbled sleepily, not opening his eyes, “stay.”

Tony had always been wrapped around Peter’s finger, but he was quite happy to be there. “Alright,” he replied, taking his seat again. “Alright I’m right here.” 

Peter was right, they had a lot to talk about. And so was Pepper, he needed to get someone to help him. But right now he felt what had been so cruelly ripped away from him in that facility; hope. 

Hope, and his kid.

... 

Do I say sorry? It ended happily, so no, right? xD Thank you everyone for reading, I hope you all enjoyed it! Please tell me what you thought of it, much love to everyone! 

taglist: @just-the-daydreamer @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @ladyreyreigns  @thetranslucentwallaby @friendly-neighborhood-ash @delphinium2 @the-persian-slipper @four-am-fangirling @steamypanda @mysterio-is-a-little-bitch @my-name-is-marcy @autisticbabynurse @blondsak @wicked-starlight-collector @selling-my-soul-for-tony-stark 

let me know if you want to be added! 

[intuwam]

w.

world building no one asked for. slightly inspired by legend of zelda. including the ragtag crew   [ x ] : june, hyuck, minjae, jaejin, myungsoo, jaehyun, jaejin, junsu ( we have a lot of boys what the fuck ). @urianius​

featuring, the knight academy.

the Knight Academy, similar to hogwarts in creation is a school dedicated to producing knights/soldiers/guards/warriors for the Empire ( that will have a name one of these days ). every recruit dreams of being chosen for the princess’ personal guard, the closest most end up is chosen as guards for the castle grounds, or guards for court members, the cosy jobs. others will end up on the front lines. knights are usually chosen from all around the kingdom, no matter the province, however most boys are required to go into the academy if the kingdom is at a shortage by age 11. 

if not conscripted as a castle guard then they will be either, frontlines, sent to provinces that need control or work for the official court of knights, and complete missions as ordered. some knights end up straying ( deferring ) from their oath and/or inflicted by magic ( think witcher lore for them ) and have a bounty put on their head.

royal guards.

shadow guards.

castle duty.

town/province detail.

front lines.

knights of seven.

the current war is a war against magic ( go figure ). not because magic was seen as some wild dark arts no one heard of but because magic was once used in the kingdom as a means to conquer but the advisor to the king ended up poisoning him and his mind and using the people as test subjects.

the princess now runs the kingdom, after the king was killed and a war broke out between witches and their enchanted creatures ) minions or dark magic some believed to have been transformed from human subjects. though unlikely to admit it, the knights of seven, well renown and respected are known for their particular affinity for magical elements and though humans don’t like to admit it, the only surefire way to destroy these creatures is with magically enhanced weapons or sometimes extensive training. ( for reference on the types of these creatures, i imagine somewhere between orcs, trolls, cyclops, etc, zelda creatures come pretty close to what i envision actually ). 

so the academy was created, a way to harness the body and the mind and forge loyalty to the crown so that a knight may never fall for the temptations of the dark arts. 

knights do not use magic that isn’t approved and for the purpose of enhancing clothing or weaponry. they use enchanted blades stolen from witch compounds as well as clothing but apart from that their bodies and minds are honed by extensive and intensive years at the academy. knights with specific affinities ( elemental for instance: water, fire, air, lightning, ice ) are coveted but all are welcome. 

the affinities, for clarification aren’t enhancements like waterbenders or airbenders, etc, they’re enhancements for weapons. people with lightning affinities their blades are encased in lightning and their clothes are well making them immune to damage from witches who specialize in that and able to wield and last in areas troubled by that kind of magic. 

at the start of the journey, the news comes out that the current knights of seven have gone missing and there was a betrayal, the princess is barricaded in the castle and the war against witches has been a decoy to rid the land of the good magic and spread dark magic throughout the kingdom. the boys - though not exactly graduates, embark on a journey to save their kingdom ( though no one really told them to ) and to maybe see who actually is the fated member of the legend. there are seven of them so - one of them has to be it right? the prophecy says that when the world needs them the most, the knight will emerge.

minjae

so, i think minjae is just good at things, he doesn’t have a particular affinity, though he works best in swordsmanship, that just fits him to me. i think he joined the academy out of boredom yes, but also I never give mina a break so i’m gonna assume in this au she’s been missing ( not kidnapped but missing ). i also think he has nothing against magic because he knows there’s something fishy up, i’ll say that mina was probably accused of dark sorcery as well. 

not a day goes by when he isn’t questioning the academy’s orders and the knight’s guards as well as the entire war and the system, often getting him in a shit ton of trouble and punishments. 

a third year, a pain in everyone’s behind because he doesn’t pay attention but weaponry comes easy to him, i think minjae just has a lot of steam to let go of and he does so through sword-fighting. he’s charming and uses that to get through everything else, battles, assignments he’s missed, morning duty punishments. i like to think minjae is very clever and good at critical thinking, he’s quick on his feet.

he’s the one who suggested they all go on the adventure together, though he has a knack for seeming selfish. he values each team member’s contribution though he can be a little cocky about his own.

minjae gets into a lot of fights, mainly because of his mouth, so his wit is needed to get out of them, or his speed, his speed is the usual option. 

it takes a lot to keep his attention, but the prospect of this adventure seems to be the first time he’s been so readily excited to do something.

( claims to know who the fated knight will be, everyone thinks he’s lying. )

hyuck ( open for changes! )

if there’s anyone more thoroughly uninterested in the gossip about who the next fated knight will be it’s hyuck, though perhaps hyuck has more of an inkling to wonder about it than minjae does. and an even strongest inkling to envy it to avoid his friend’s teasing.

has a good eye, a very good eye and his agility is unmatched except by jaejin, he would have higher marks in stealth if he weren’t so loud all the time but he’s got a better eye than most it’s why he holds the candle in marksmanship, bows and arrows, slingshots and even throwing spears. those are his strengths and it’s something to be proud of really, even minjae can’t match his accuracy. it’s something that comes from survival too and it’s something that the two boys know well. they grew up in provinces affected differently by the war but they still had to survive and for hyuck it was using whatever methods he could to keep the spotlight off him and his family.

it’s the biggest surprise too because while minjae is going in balls to the wall, hyuck always has his back and that’s how the two work together, the same as if hyuck were in unfamiliar territory in a cornered fight, minjae is always watching, always at his side. hyuck probably didn’t expect to have an affinity at all, but minjae often hints that maybe there’s a bit of air affinity with how accurate his shots are ( hyuck just says he thinks too much ).

he doesn’t discuss his reasons for joining the academy, and most people don’t ask as everyone comes from their own walks of life but it’s assumed he wasn’t a volunteer. due to how much he fools around in class he always surprises people with how well he does on his scores, he jokes but he does make sure he knows what’s going on, just because it helps him get around well, and soon it helps them on their journey. it’s the little things, the smaller lessons often left forgotten that hyuck is the one remembering and pointing out when they’re in a pinch.

he doesn’t exactly dislike the idea of them traveling, but he’s well aware of the dangers it poses. still, he and minjae are inseparable. 

jaejin

i’m thinking a lightning affinity. i think he’s very fast, and he would have large marks in stealth that only hyuck can rival. i think jaejin doesn’t discuss his abilities much either, tries not to make a big deal of them as he gets his grasp on them, also because it’s a pretty hard affinity to control and no one wants the attention that comes from having a lightning affinity.

because he is the youngest and the smallest. marksmanship is his skill and stealth, he is the smallest one of the boys as well as the youngest and though it benefits them on missions, he gets the short end of the stick in raw power. jaejin is calculating, which is why he can hold a candle to minjae in witty comebacks but he doesn’t speak up much or voice his ideas.

jaejin keeps to himself and his studies and doesn’t like the bloody nature of battle, which is why he prefers the distance granted to him by lightning. he has studied up on lore but not enough to be interested in who would be chosen and why and his calculations are only enough for angles and such, survival tactics they’e read about but not ones that will save him in quick situations. he’s not a quick-thinker but he is decisive where it matters.

jaejin has admiration for the knight court but never expected to be anything other than a front line guard, sent to be destroyed as fodder for the kingdom’s war. it’s why myungsoo spends so much time training him in combat and minjae in swordsmanship, they worry where he lacks will be his downfall.

jaejin isn’t soft though, his appearance in the academy was not by choice, he was the last one available from his village and such he is here. he didn’t expect to have any bit of use but found that all his time reading and studying paid off.

he is the first to oppose the journey, the first to cry when he has to kill a creature and often babied by the group though they can’t help it. he and minjae argue the most on decisions even if their decisions are both focusing on the right thing they have different methods of getting it.

is rather popular around the academy actually.

myungsoo

conscripted and almost immediately, mainly because he comes from a family of knights, a brother who made it to the royal guard, and another who is a leader on the front lines. myungsoo is expected to be picked as the princess’ fated knight but he has no desire of it, as the shoes to fit for his siblings and family are hard enough. though the knight identities are secret there is a rumor his third brother is a member.

a fire affinity which is why most of his family ends up being coveted knights, fire is strong and easily destructive. myungsoo has a short temper though he isn’t a fan of his affinity and is even less of a fan of the expectations everyone has of him. he and junsu are the eldest along with june though they both treat june like a younger brother. 

in terms of build he is the biggest muscle wise while junsu is the tallest, both spend a lot of time honing their physical and mental minds because of the toll their affinity can take on them. 

myungsoo is always ready for a fight, always, he’s the bravest one amongst them and won’t hesitate to go against the odds. it can be a problem though as he’s sometimes too wiling to rush in without regard to his life, something that they always argue on. he’s also skilled at mending weaponry, and forging it as well, something he’s often spent time teaching minjae about.

easily he and junsu are the parents of the group, the fourth-years. myungsoo is usually the one they all look up to in terms of leadership skills, and just how bright and generous he is, it’s hard to say no to him, if he says to make up they will make up, if he orders an argument to stop it will stop. he is inspiring, has been training to be a knight since he was young and has a very deep sense of honor and commitment. 

junsu

ice affinity! the problem being, most people consider ice affinities to be a corrupted form of water. there are rumors, that junsu’s brother who was a knight became cursed and is now on the run ( there’s also a rather dark rumor that half of his clan was transformed into hideous beasts of dark magic by the witches ). he does not talk about his brother and he does not talk about his affinity, he just knows he has a duty now and it’s to prove his family’s loyalty despite the rumors.

that duty, is pretty bitter for him which is why he dislikes the idea of going out to save the kingdom or the knights where it’s offered him nothing but pain. because he’s taught so much about loyalty, he is the first to suggest they do things together or the first to wish to clear up fights or arguments between the boys, as they are stronger together, very clear-headed. his duty is to family and little by little these boys have become that for him.

very often is the one cooking for the team, and reminding them of how many meals they’ve missed and not to go to far with arguments and such. very much a mood settler, partially because of the water element that’s present in ice, he doesn’t like confrontation and likes things to run smooth. he was arguably, the first to suggest this mission is a bad idea.

he is surprisingly one of the calmer members, very keen on noticing things such as shifts in atmosphere or a spell that might lead to an area trapped in illusions. he is a quick-thinker and will yank minjae or hyuck back from doing something stupid whereas jaejin will say they should learn a lesson and myungsoo is ready to jump on in with them.

june

my sunshine. his affinity is hard to place, sometimes it seems like it’s light, other times water, other times air. june just tries his best to be good at what he does and where people need him. he keeps to himself and isn’t particularly the strongest rather he knows how to use his strength and has a strong build from relentless training he’s been put through. he excels in sword-fighting, excels in his studies, remembers his history well and is decent at strategizing.

he is, thoroughly too gentle for the world of knights leading several questions as to what he’s doing in the academy. some say he was the only one in his town old enough to go, some say his father is a noble and sent him there with a spot in the royal guard already waiting for him when he graduates. despite that, there are a multitude of rumors surrounding where june will end up, his achievements in the academy have made him the topic of discussion and as a fourth year, everyone speculates where he’ll end up.

june however just wants to do what he can to protect those close to him, he thus doesn’t open up easily or entertain such rumors, it’s often hard to place where his loyalty is especially when his first reaction to the journey had been no. he always seems to be working towards something bigger than just the academy and he’s always lost in thought, if he talks to anyone it’s jaehyun. 

he’s never rude though, always smiling and kind and agreeing to help others, he just seems to prefer being under the radar and nothing about his life seems to want to allow it. a pain because minjae can never really turn anyone on june because june is just - june, lovable to a fault. perhaps the only teenage thing about him is how competitive he can get and how much fun the boys have pulling it out of him.

jaehyun

air? i’m feeling air for the kiddo. or maybe air or water? can’t decide really.

jaehyun is quiet, different from how jaejin might light up around his friends, be playful and somewhat of a pain in his age, jaehyun prefers the shadows. jaehyun prefers to jsut be around and not be seen, he’s not hiding anything really, not in the mysterious way that others are, he just doesn’t have much to open up again. he’s a simple kid, with a fascination with doing something - being something even if it isn’t that grand.

his affinity was seen as something of a blessing, something extraordinary so he cultivates it and takes good care of it but he’s not boastful. he’s also very thankful for it because in his opinion it gives him something to work with as he doesn’t have any other spectacular skills. jaehyun is good at strategizing though, it’s something that the others praise him for and they often seek his advice though he doesn’t voice his opinion often and isn’t too boastful about it. he’s very excellent at record keeping and back-tracking, it’s saved their ass on multiple occasions. 

because of his desire to keep to himself it’s a wonder that he joined the boys, but when he’s laughing at a bonfire with them it’s not hard to see he’s found a place he otherwise didn’t have. and something about the adventure, he lights up when he’s discovering things, when he’s been on use, and like any other young knight, the prospect of making a dent in history is thrilling to say the least.

[it-will-not-last-the-night]

-Oil and Water-

4 AM

“Woah, geeze, that was so close,” Ryuji fell back against the wall, tossing his controller aside, and deflated. A sense of palpable relief was evident on his features, alongside a bleary-eyed look of fatigue.

Futaba did not share his same state of fatigue.

“Whew, c’mon, it wasn’t really that close, we had him from about halfway, you just always pop your ulties to early!” She hurried to collect the controller even as she spoke, absently inspecting it for damage.

The two sat in her room, on her bed, magazines, drinks, snacks and pillows spread about them as they faced the monitor they’d been playing on, hooked up to a console. The screen still flickered on the game briefly as Futaba idled through stats and scores at her own leisure.

“I was gonna die! I had to drop the shield!” He protested, weakly, cutting himself off with a rather obnoxious yawn, earning an eyeroll from his younger companion.

“Your health was dropping well within my expected parameters, you wouldn’ t have had to activate the shield for at least another 2 minutes and, then, it would have lasted all the way through his final phase, instead of us having to dodge like crazy for the last bit,” there was no arguing with Futaba on it, in no small part since Ryuji doubted anything she said wasn’t absolutely correct. As a result he settled for just waving a hand at her dismissively, groping about for his phone.

“Whatever Miss Queen of Games-”

“Goddess, if you must,”

Ryuji made an unflattering snorting sound and finally located his phone. “Seriously? 4 in the morning? That was, what, five hours playing? Geeze, no wonder my ass feels numb,” Ryuji remained classy as always.

“That’s nothing, I’ve been on raids that take up to 9 hours solid playing. Of course most of that is when there’s some trick to the raid, so you gotta play over and over on the same parts till someone figures it out, then it’s always way easier in hindsight,” she turned off the console as she spoke, hearing Ryuji’s neck give an audible crick as he stretched out. Stupid, muscled, boy.

“Seriously? That’s like...the whole day. There’s no way I could sit still that long, it’d drive me nuts,” Futaba could only scoff at his plebian constitution.

“You can’t sit still for a minute without complaining so you aren’t a good bar for this at all. You were shifting around so much I thought you were just going to push me off! Not to mention now you rubbed your numb butt all over my precious bed! I’ll have to disinfect the sheets!” 

“It isn’t my fault your room has almost nowhere else to sit, okay? Also you’re in school now so you gotta get rest, remember what Makoto said? No more sleeping in the day and staying up at night, ‘ight?”

“Sleep is for the weak, I prefer to just turbocharge with sugar and power through school then stay up all night, it’s a perfect solution!” A perfect solution it was not, and Futaba knew this. Adjusting to her first year at Shujin had come with a number of obstacles. One of those was trying to get back into a normal sleeping pattern, something she hadn’t done for years. Even now she struggled falling asleep any time before 2 or 3 in the morning, leading to more than a few incidents of passing out at Shujin and getting lectured by Sojiro. There was, of course, no way Futaba was ever going to admit that to a bonehead like Ryuji. Even struggling to sleep she still managed considerably better scores than him so, when you think about it, her way was clearly better.

“What are you, a vampire? Seriously Futaba, sleep’s important for a growing kid, even a pipsqueak like you could still pack on a few inches,” he tauntingly held his hand above her head in the air, grinning crookedly. 

Vampire’s weren’t really Futaba’s style, she prefered aliens or orcs, but more importantly; “A few inches? Ryuji! My breast size is not something you should be worrying about! You just want me to grow up like Ann and Haru and Makoto don’t you? Admit it!” If he was going to open the door to taunting than Futaba would give as good as she got and, if history was any judge, she gave considerably more than he could handle.

“W-what? No! No! I meant height! Height! Taller, taller Futaba! I didn’t...I wouldn’t...you’re fine how you are I...not that I care! Or...as long as you’re happy then...I just meant...” he devolved into a Ryuji-esque meltdown, cheeks tinged pink, eyes wide as saucers, babbling and wavings his arms about in an incoherent mess. She couldn’t help but giggle. There was almost no-one as fun to tease as Ryuji, his unique blend of earnesty, foot-in-mouth syndrome and idiocy was simply unmatched. 

“It’s okay, doofus, but let that be a lesson to you not to make comments about a lady’s physique! Stick to what you know; meat and muscles and punching stuff,” she poked a finger into his chest accusatorily and tried to ignore how irritatingly solid it was.

“You know I am good at other stuff too,” he sulked, a hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Evidence would beg to differ,” she shot back, sticking a tongue out at him and earning another amused snort from the blonde...well, only partly blonde, darker roots were beginning to show again. Ever since Ren had moved away his dedication to keeping his hair blonde had been fading. 

“Whatever, look you sure it’s still cool if I crash here for tonight? Sojiro’s cool with it while he’s out?” 

“Nah, I didn’t tell him, so when he comes back and finds you here tomorrow morning, er, later in the morning he’ll probably kill you,” stringing Ryuji along was just to easy for her, how could she blamed for pulling his leg when he basically stuck it out for her every single time?

“W-” was as far as Ryuji managed, leaping to his full height, voice dangerously high, before Futaba’s familiar cackle clued him in on what was yet another instance of her messing with him.

“Relax, geeze, obvs I told him,” she shook her head as he calmed down; “Besdes, he’s okay with any of you being here, Inari, you, Ren, so long as it’s you guys it’s okay, so ease up on the paranoia, will ya?” 

“Hey! If I’m paranoid it’s cause you keep messin’ with me!” Ryuji shot back weakly, grumbling all the while. Futaba simply shrugged.

“So what do you wanna do next?”

“Sleep?” He said it as if it was some obvious conclusion she should have reached already. She tried to make sure her disappointment didn’t show and, luckily, Ryuji was one of the people she was rather good at hiding things from, though that was probably more just because Ren, Makoto and Haru were, by comparison, far more perceptive than him.

“I mean it’s already way past my normal time and I like gettin’ up early, sleeping in the whole day, just feels like I’m wastin’ time, ya know?” He didn’t mean it as a question, not a real one, Futaba knew a rhetorical question when she heard one. 

“So that’s what I’ve been doing, huh?” She kept it to a whisper, not exactly wishing to inject bitterness into what had otherwise been a fun night. There was nothing really for it in the end, he was an early rising, workout obsessed, extroverted meathead, she was a nightowl, introvert, who could barely make the walk down her own stairs without panting. They were just like oil and water, night and day and other cool sounding metaphors. 

For some reason that bothered her a bit.

“Okay, okay, fine, yeesh, can’t believe you still have a bedtime, and you call me the kid?”

[wykart]

Does it Matter (It’s Klaus)

Part 2 of Fifty-one years (and one day) later (read on ao3)

Summary: The truth comes out, and Klaus must come to grips with the fact that his entire life of happiness with Dave was taken away by his own brother.

Chapter 5: Playing on (chpt. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5)

1 day, 17 hours

Vanya was in the hospital waiting room when Diego found her. She was on edge, playing the events of the previous night over and over in her head. That anger, that fear, building and building as the noise of the engine rattled and roared, consuming her, filling her with energy and then... spilling over. Surging out in a tidal wave. She wished she had her pills, something to take away the tumultuous emotions she was feeling, the guilt, the fear, her shameful sense of pride at what she was, what she’d been all along. Special. She wished she could make it stop.

“Vanya!” She turned to see him, Diego, jogging down the hall in that ridiculous vigilante get up. What the hell was he doing here? “Are you okay, did he hurt you?”

He sounded out of breath, and scared. It wasn’t often that her brother showed fear. “I’m fine.” She said, taken aback. “Diego, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Allison and I were on our way to get you when I picked up the report on my radio, something about an attack at a bar close by, the description sounded like you so I came right away. We have to get you back to the academy, now.”

“W-wait a minute, why were you coming to get me? You guys didn’t want anything to do with me yesterday.”

“Yeah well, that was before we found out your boyfriend is a psycho murderer.”

“What!” She exclaimed. Then it all made sense. Allison was trying to play big sister again, and now she’d roped in her over-protective brothers as well. “Is Allison the one doing this? She needs to get off my case, god I can’t believe you guys.”

Diego looked puzzled. “You mean, he hasn’t hurt you or anything?”

“No, of course not. He was just taking me out on a trip to the lake. We went out for dinner last night and got jumped by some crazies and…” She didn’t know what to tell him. There was no denying it now, though, she had power, power that she didn’t understand let alone know how to control.

“But the police report said two of them were dead. You telling me that wasn’t him?”

“No it was... I don’t remember okay. But I’m fine, I don’t need to go back to the city. I need to stay with Leonard, he hasn’t woken up yet and I…” She trailed off, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of his room.

“Vanya, look.” Diego held out a file brimming with paperwork, stamped with the name Harold Jenkins. Skeptical at first, she took a closer look. It was Leonard, he’d been released from prison just a few months ago.

Diego went on to tell her about what they’d found in his house. The old umbrella academy memorabilia, scratched out eyes, melted heads. All the while, Vanya could feel that power building inside her, and she struggled to keep it pushed down. The rows of fluorescent lights on the ceiling flickered and faltered, dimming the clinical white of the hospital hall. The air felt heavy, alive, answering to her emotions. “We thought he was going to hurt you,” Diego continued, "and Five says that this guy right here,” he pointed at Leonard’s unflattering mugshot, “is going to cause the apocalypse.”

“Ok but Five is-“ She felt awful saying it. When they were kids, they’d tell each other everything, but what Five had confided in her that night had been, well, insane. “He’s deranged. He says he’s been alone for nearly fifty years, and he’s clearly not himself right now.”

“I know it’s difficult to believe, but you’ve missed a lot these past few days.”

“Right, and who’s fault is that? I’m the one who’s a liability.”

“Look,” he smirked, averting her gaze, “I’m sorry Vanya, but you need to trust me now. Allison is back at Jenkins’ grandma’s house, we split up to try and find you. You should head there right away, I’ve got something I need to do.” Diego looked off in the direction that Vanya had glanced over at earlier. She wondered what he was thinking of doing.

“Where’s Five now?”

“He said he’d meet us here with Klaus and Luther, but I don’t think they expected us to find you so fast. I’ll tell them to hold off if they haven’t left yet, save them the trouble. There a phone somewhere here?” She pointed him towards the wall-mounted landline just outside the waiting room. He went over and dialled the number of the academy while Vanya stood against the wall, trying to catch her breath. She clutched the police file in her hand, the grainy mug shot of the man she’d been coming to love clipped to the front. Harold Jenkins... she couldn’t believe it. Even if he was a murderer, he’d been thirteen, that didn’t mean he still wanted to hurt people now. It made sense for him to want a fresh start after all that. She herself had often wondered if she should shed the Hargreeves name, given the infamy and memories, associated with it.

Vanya heard a deep, muffled voice on the other end - Luther. She couldn’t make out what he was saying. “Five? What about him,” Diego muttered, “shit.”

The urgency in his voice piqued Vanya’s attention. “What? What is it?” She leant closer to the receiver and managed to make out Luther’s words.

“Is that Vanya?” He asked.

“Yeah, we got her, she’s safe.”

“Thank god,” he sighed.

“We’ll be there soon, okay big guy? Mom knows her stuff, he’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, “just be here, okay?” Diego hung up, and turned to see Vanya looking at him with wide, incredulous eyes.

“It’s Five,” he said, already barging past her. “He’s hurt, b-bad.”

“Shit. What happened?” She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him again, despite how strange and distant he’d been since he’d come back.

“I don’t know, Luther didn’t say but I’ll bet it has something to do with this incoming apocalypse.” His movements were rapid, pacing and twitching around on the spot. He was worried. “I’m going to get Allison from the house and we’re going back to the academy. You’re coming too.” There was no arguing with him, she realised. But she was still going to try.

“I’m not just going to leave Leonard here!”

“Harold.” He reminded her, impatient.

“I don’t care! He’s... I...”

“You what.” I love him. She couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Listen, you don’t think he was trying to use you to get close to us? He wants us dead, Vanya, all of us. He doesn’t love you.” She whimpered, and for a moment Diego looked like he might apologise, then his mouth hardened into a line and he clapped her on the shoulder. “Come on, Five needs us.”

…

They caught a taxi up to the house, which Vanya had to pay for. Despite all his conspicuous pockets, Diego only seemed to carry knives. Allison came running out of the house as the taxi pulled up the driveway, and she tackled Vanya with a force almost enough to knock her over as Allison pulled her into a hug.

“Oh Vanya, I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Err, thanks Allison. I’m fine, though, you don’t have to –“ she pulled back from her sister’s embrace, giving her an awkward pat on the shoulder.

“We need to get going, now,” Diego muttered, clambering out of the taxi. He gave the driver a dismissive wave, and he started pulling out of the driveway, looking bewildered. “Five’s hurt.”

“What!” Allison cried, over-acting as always. She nodded, composing herself. “Well I’ve found something too,” she pulled a familiar red book out from behind her. “Dad’s journal.”

“What the hell was it doing here?” Vanya asked, but she already knew. Just another nail in the coffin. Leonard had been using her, and the one thing in her life she thought was her own, had really been about the umbrella academy. It was always about the umbrella academy.

“So he was reading up on us, getting to know our weaknesses.” He glared at Vanya, “between this and your autobiography he’d have quite the arsenal.”

Allison shot him a dangerous look. “We can work all this out in the car, we need to get back to the academy.’

As the other two moved towards the vehicle, Vanya remembered something. “Wait,” she called, “I need my violin.”

“Already in the trunk,” Allison smiled, “let’s go.”

…

Vanya sat in the backseat on the ride back to the city, during which Diego and Allison were uncharacteristically quiet. She poured over the pages of her father’s journal, that elongated, scrawled hand of his. He was always scribbling in this book, writing down times during her sibling’s exercises, taking measurements, scrawling notes about observations from his latest experiments. She wasn’t featured on many of the pages, which was to be expected, of course, but at the beginning of the book, the notes that were taken early in her childhood, many of her father’s entries were entitled ‘Number 7.’

June 5th, 1990

Number 7 may be responsible for some low-level phenomena. Minute changes in temperature and malfunctioning electrical appliances. Strong aversion to noisy environments. She is the first of the subjects to show any promise.

Ever since she was a child, and she’d been the most “promising” of them all.

July 23rd, 1992

Incredible, simply incredible! Number 7 continues to show heightened brain function and response to audio stimulus. Her potential is unmatched by that of the other subjects –

She kept on flicking through, not knowing how to feel. All her life, she’d been lied to. Was she really that dangerous?

October 2nd, 1993

Number 7 continues to excel in her training, though her childish temperament is less than ideal. She is beginning to understand and hone her powers, using them for her personal gain. It is only natural, but if I cannot contain her, she may prove… problematic.

October 4th, 1994

That’s the third one dead this week. The hiring agency is beginning to ask questions, and I fear that it’s only a matter of time before the girl turns on me as well. She has little interest in my guidance, and the child is unruly, distant, even among her siblings.

She was a killer, ever since she was four years old… she shuddered to think of what she was capable of now. She’d only been off her medication for a few days, and already she felt this power deeply-rooted inside her, laying dormant all these years. It was hungry.

January 12th, 1995

I have constructed a chamber that renders Number 7 powerless. The environment causes the girl much discomfort. The disconnect from her abilities makes her agitated and sickly. Her power is too great for me to contain. I have been developing a counter measure, a medication that should help to level her head – thought it will have side-effects.

She’d been living with those effects as long as she could remember. That feeling like the world was moving too fast, the numbness in her brain, the exhaustion, the quiet misery she never quite understood… it was because a part of her was missing.

September 7th, 1995

Number 7 has been sedated these past few months, and so far has shown no sign of her usual abilities. She is far quieter now, subdued. It may become necessary to increase her dosage as she develops. I must keep the girl, though she will likely be of no further use to me. I must be watchful of her, in the hands of others her power could be let loose, and the results could be… cataclysmic.

The passage was circled in red marker. Leonard.

October 1st, 1999

Without her powers, Number 7 has no discernable talents. Some enthusiasm for music, but mediocre skill – can barely even hobble through a Paganini caprice. Utterly useless.

And that was it, the final entry, after four years of silence. Vanya felt tears sting her eyes. She hadn’t noticed it as she’d been reading, but the sky outside had turned from sunny blue to grey. Rain was trickling down, spotting the windows with clear droplets, as did the tears on her cheeks. Leonard, Harold – she reminded herself – had planned to use her like some sort of weapon, and she’d fallen for it. Who knows what would have happened if Diego hadn’t found her when he did, before Harold had a chance to whisk her away again. She had to talk to Five, he’d know what to do, he always did.

…

1 day, 16 hours

“Five, oh god, Five!” She yelled, seeing him laying there, it kicked her mind into high-gear.  He looked so small on the surgical bed, flesh blue and swollen. Grace stood beside him, a crisp apron strung around her waist, and a tray of intricate metal tools balanced on one of her arms.

She smiled, despite the situation. “Hello there, Vanya, so lovely to see you.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” She stood over him, trying to see whether his chest was rising and falling, if only gently.

“He’ll make it,” Grace said, suddenly sombre.

“Oh thank god.” She whispered, sitting down in a plastic chair beside the bed, head in her hands. Luther was standing awkwardly in the corner of the room, head down. Allison stepped over to stand behind Vanya and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Who the hell did this to him?” Diego asked, “those psychopaths that attacked the house?”

“I, err,” Luther muttered, shuffling from foot to foot. “Five said that it was… Klaus.”

“Excuse me?” Allison said, glaring over at him.

“I’m not sure if that’s what he meant, but just before he collapsed at the doorstep, I asked him who did this to him and he said it was Klaus.”

“How the hell did Klaus do this? He can’t even walk in a straight line, and his arms are like noodles!”

“Yes Diego,” Allison sighed, “we know you work out.”

“All I’m saying is, maybe he got attacked on the way there, or maybe it was a trap.”

“He went to talk to Klaus, who was already pissed with him, and for good reason too. It makes sense.”

Diego scoffed, “It doesn’t make any sense,” he hissed, “Klaus wouldn’t do this.”

“Grace says he should be awake soon, we can ask him then.” Luther said, trying to keep everyone calm. Grace perked up at the sound of her name, looking between them with that vacant smile.

“You’ve done a great job, Mom,” Diego grinned, his voice soft all of a sudden. “Five would’ve died without your help.” Grace smiled lovingly.

“Can we really believe what he says, I mean, he killed an innocent man, a man that Klaus loved. Should we really be on his side here?” Allison asked. It was something they’d all been trying not to think about; what Five had done. He kept on telling them that he’d changed during his decades alone, that he’d killed countless people, but it was all so easy to ignore when he looked the way that he did, like their kid brother.

“There aren’t any sides here, we’re family, and we’re going to help one another.” Luther said, trying his best to keep the peace.

Vanya wasn’t following the conversation at all, but she was used to that sort of treatment when among her siblings. Out of the loop, never included. She gasped, however, as she saw Five’s eyes flicker open.

“Anyone care what I have to say about this?” He muttered, voice groggy and heavy in his throat.

Vanya seemed to be the only one that was genuinely pleased. Diego only looked relieved for a moment, before he donned his signature scowl. “Not really, no.”

Five rolled his eyes. He tried to sit up but the attempted action made his vision swim before him. He decided against it. “Fair enough,” he grumbled, "did you kill Harold Jenkins?”

“Wait, what!” Vanya interjected, looking at Five in shock.

“Oh,” he smiled, "hi Vanya. So yeah, did you kill him or not?”

Diego looked down at the floor. “No,” he murmured, resembling a kid caught in the act of some trivial transgression.

“Diego!” Allison cried.

“I thought getting here was a little more important, Luther made it sound like Five was dying!”

“I was,” he muttered, "but that’s no excuse, I’ll remind you we’re talking about the fate of the world here.”

"I – I might know something about that, actually.” Vanya said, softly. “I think that I… I have powers.”

The others hesitated for a moment, and Vanya was afraid that they were going to laugh. “Oh, come on,” Diego sighed, putting a hand to his brow. Luther gave her an awkward smile, and Allison gave her shoulder a sympathetic pat.

“Hey, let her finish,” Five snapped. He turned his eyes to her (still being unable to turn his head).

“I was reading Dad’s journal in the car and,” she looked over at Five, unsure of whether to continue. They were all staring, it was difficult to form words. He gave an encouraging, minute nod. “It said that I had powers all along, but they were too dangerous so he… the pills… they’re meant to stop them.”

“You’re serious?” Luther asked.

She nodded, staring down at the floor. “It’s not just that. I’ve been off my meds these past few days and weird stuff has started happening. I feel different, for a start. I got angry at you all and the lamp posts on the street started bending, I think I can control the weather and… last night…”

Diego was looking at her, wide-eyed. “You killed those guys?”

“I – I didn’t mean to,” she stammered. She looked around at the others, hoping she wouldn’t find fear, or disbelief. “they were attacking me and… him.” She couldn’t say his name.

“What kind of power is it anyway, cataclysmic violin playing?” Diego chuckled, trying and failing to lighten the mood.

“I don’t know, like telekinesis or something.” She muttered under her breath, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Telekinesis.” Luther considered, “of the world ending variety?”

“If it was something that Dad was too scared to deal with,” Five replied, “I’m thinking quite possibly.”

“Shit,” she muttered. “You guys said that Le – Harold,” the name brought a bitter taste to her mouth, “had some sort of murder shine in his house, so I thought… maybe he was trying to, I don’t know, use me or something… to hurt you. He was always more invested in developing my powers than I was, and he knew things about them that… I should have noticed. God, I’m so stupid.”

“It’s okay, Vanya,” Allison said, kindly. Vanya didn’t like to admit it, but sometimes she liked it when Allison played the role of big sister.

“How dangerous are these powers exactly, are you on the pills now?” Luther asked, suddenly stepping forwards from the shadows.

“No.” She admitted, wringing her hands, agitated. Taking them again would feel like failure to her, it would be like letting her father win.

“Should you be?”

“No,” she insisted, a little more forcefully than she’d intended. “I can control it, I can, I just…”

“It’s okay Vanya, I know this must be scary for you.” Five murmured. Vanya smiled gratefully. “And, if this is true, then it could mean that Harold Jenkins can no longer cause the apocalypse.”

“What, really?” Luther said, puzzled.

“I don’t know, but the way I see it, without Vanya, he won’t be able to do anything.”

She hadn’t wanted to believe it, that she was capable of something like that, the apocalypse.“So you really think that I was going to–“

“I don’t know. And, if you were, then I know you would never have done it on purpose, okay?” Said Five. She could tell that he was in pain. His eyes were watering with the strain of it all. “Just stay here, you’ll be safer with me if he decides to come after you.”

“Okay,” she nodded.

“What do you want us to do, Five?” Luther asked. He didn’t seem comfortable with it, asking for leadership.

“Frankly, Luther, I don’t care,” he quipped. “Wait, no,” he reconsidered, “keep tabs on this Harold Jenkins guy, tell this police about his false identity if they haven’t caught up with him in the hospital already.”

“What about Klaus?” Diego asked. “Was he really the one that did this to you?”

Five closed his eyes, “he was.” There was a murmur of discordance from around the room.

“Wait, wait, we’re talking about our brother Klaus, right?” Vanya murmured, though she knew she wasn’t going to get answers for a while yet.

“He’s dangerous, believe me. His powers are stronger now.”

“So, he can see… more dead people?” Allison offered, just as confused as the rest of them.

“No, he can manifest dead people, physically. Actually they’re the ones that did this.” He gestured vaguely to his beaten body. One of his arms was strapped in a splint, and his eyes were barely visible beyond the swollen, blackened flesh surrounding.

“So he summoned a bunch of dead people to beat the shit out of you, damn. Good for him.”

“Diego!” Allison cried.

“What, he deserved it,” Five nodded solemnly to Diego’s assertion, “it doesn’t make things even, but maybe Klaus will feel better about coming back to the academy now that he’s taken Five down a notch,” he glanced over Five lying helplessly on the bed, “or ten.”

“It’s more than that though, he didn’t seem fully in control. It was scary, he was levitating off the ground, his eyes went all blue, the air felt like it was going to suffocate me, and I heard things… he needs our help but I’m worried that he’s becoming too dangerous. We need more information before we can confront him again.”

“I’ve got Dad’s journal,” Vanya offered, “there’s bound to be something in there.”

“I’ll find Pogo, he’ll be able to help,” Luther added. Vanya wondered if Pogo knew about her powers too. She was willing to bet that he did, it cast all that comfort he gave her, as a child and just a few days ago during the funeral, in a darker light. What did he have to say for himself?

One by one, they shuffled out, leaving Five and Vanya alone.

“Do you think Klaus is scared, by his power I mean. It’s terrifying, finding out you can do something like that, hurting people… even though you don’t mean to.”

“I’m sorry Vanya, and I’m sorry for Klaus too. Let’s be honest, Dad probably messed you two up most of all, except maybe for Ben, but, well…”

“Have a read,” she stood up beside him and adjusted the bed so he was sitting up. She handed him the open book. “Everything we need to know’s in here.” He nodded gratefully, and began to skim over the notes.

Vanya sighed and moved over to the cabinets lining the walls. Harold may have gotten rid of her own supply of medication, but she knew her father must have kept some lying around. Sure enough, she found a row of dusty jars at the back of the cabinet. She unscrewed the lid, already feeling ashamed that she couldn’t do this on her own, couldn’t control the power that was building inside of her. It was too much, seeing Five injured, reading her father’s words, and Klaus… One, two, three. She had to feel numb to this, otherwise she thought her heart might explode right out of her chest. Is this how Klaus felt, that dependency, amplified a thousand times over? She wondered what he was feeling right now. Was it guilt, or fear? Or was he past that entirely, twisted into some other person by the power lying dormant within. That’s what Vanya feared most as she downed the pills, losing herself, destroying the people she loved – just like Klaus.

...

Notes: Sorry for the lack of Klaus in this Klaus fic. I felt it was important to compare the perspectives of Klaus and Vanya while also getting Vanya and her power trip out of the way so that Klaus can step forwards and wreck their shit :))

[ruslpostur]

Process Journal 2: Acceptance

The best way I can imagine success is with text supporting pictures of the apex predator of our species, Daniel Craig's James Bond. This character represents a Platonic ideal of traits I admire: stoicism, determination, grim satisfaction in defeating his enemies, sense of style and sophistication, good taste, a pitch black sense of humor, professionalism, and efficiency. In short, when I visualize success, I see James Bond.

My Mental State Upon Succeeding

Upon completing the project, I will feel more sophisticated, more accomplished, and deserving of an adult reward such as a martini. When we succeed I will glow with the confidence of Her Majesty's most capable assassin-spy and an unmatched Lothario.

Accomplishing My Goal and Immediate Impact of My Goal

Accomplishing my goal will give me the quiet fulfillment of the professional spy who takes great pride in his service of Her Majesty. My goal or desired outcome is a professionally executed, well-crafted, thoughtful, and clever product which is received well by faculty and my peers. I will look back at a difficult mission pulled off with Bond's aplomb. In an ideal world, it becomes the seed for a business that will make me incredibly wealthy and impactful. But in the shorter term, achieving this goal earns me quiet respect and enhanced camarederie with my group.

Who benefits from my success? Global and Local Impacts

Bond is a loner, but he relies on his team and his various female companions to succeed time and again. I hope that my team benefits immediately from my success. In fact, I don't see a separation of our successes; we will sink or swim together, and am happy being Q as I am being Bond - Q gets shot at far less and keeps more regular hours. Should we find a product for the world to use, then our customers and stakeholders will benefit from our project, and we will all be enriched. Perhaps our project, even if not made into a product, service, or business, can be released to the world and used as the basis for something like an open source project, nonprofit, further research, or world-changing shift in educational policy that launches the human race into a thousand year epoch of unparalleled learning and achievement. Not to oversell our homework assignment or anything.

What kind of rewards could come from the success of your undertaking?

Bond is, of course, rich with excellent, ableit expensive, taste. Obviously, I am hoping that the success of this project leads to personal wealth and the freedom and opportunities that only mountains of money can provide. We could turn this project into a product or service that can be sold, turned into a business, and launches my career into a new, exciting direction. I am looking for entrepreneurial opportunities and have an interest in solving big, difficult problems. I think even if this does not lead to a personal financial transformation and a new business, it will be a great addition to my portfolio and a way to hone my craft of making digital products and working with teams of creatives, businesspeople, and engineers. Plus, I will have three new, talented friends.

What are your motivating factors for succeeding?

First and foremost, I am competitive, and want to beat all of the other teams. I don't know that this makes sense in this context, as there are no prizes awarded nor is there an objective way to say that a project is the best given that there will be different problems addressed. However, my competitive drive motivates me even when I know there are no medals being awarded. I am motivated also by a desire to get the most out of my short time at USC as possible. I see no point in spending all this time and money only to phone in solutions. Lastly, I am motivated by my own perfectionism and pride in having high standards for my work.

What makes you interested in the problem in the first place?

Like Wu-Tang and this photoshopped image, I am for the children. I've had abysmal experiences in public schools and bad for-profit schools, I've had transformative classes and experiences elsewhere. There is a need to change education to make it better suited for our age. Young people need to be exposed to the breadth of career options available and to have STEAM stressed from the minute they enter kindergarten. As a mid-life career switcher, I also know firsthand how expensive and difficult it is to retool and then convince someone to hire you instead of a recent grad. Continuing education, workforce development, and ongoing technical training are going to be essential for modern labor pools and for addressing structural unemployment that is the result of our nation's legacy of inequality and neglect of whole populations. Lastly, automation is going to obliterate whole job classifications in my lifetime, so learning how to learn and creating a better education mousetrap are going to save the proletariat.

What is compelling about seeing this to its end result?

It can be argued that, despite Bond's aristocratic upbringing, Craig's 007 brings a decisively working class sensibility to the character. His Bond is a hardworking artisan of killing and spycraft, a man who is most satisfied when using his talent and training to accomplish his mission. Similarly, I am eager to translate the things I am learning into practice and output for my portfolio. Molding my brain to adopt design thinking is exciting stuff and requires me to finish the things I start. Also completing the mission is entirely the point - Bond doesn't let his targets off with a warning.

What level of investment do you have in the solution succeeding?

Like Bond at the end of Skyfall, I am all in. His back to the wall, he returned to his family home to confront his most dangerous adversaries. I feel like this program is a great opportunity to find fulfillment in my career and every project an opportunity to come closer to achieving that end. I also don't really have a good Plan B, by design, so I don't quit. As Sun Tzu wrote, "Throw your soldiers into positions whence there is no escape, and they will prefer death to flight. If they will face death, there is nothing they may not achieve."

[hotspreadpage]

5 Steps to Prime Your Creatives to Produce Outstanding, Clutter-Busting Content

If you’re like me, you’ve had a moment where you thought your content was outstanding, in the true sense of the word – you really thought it stood out above the competition.

Then you looked around and discovered your unique, original, and unmatched ideas were run-of-the-mill. Suddenly, you felt like you were attending the fourth-grade talent show and realizing your kid was just one of 30 equally precious snowflakes with misguided trombone aspirations.

Let’s say you do produce original and engaging content. If so, you’ll likely discover an insane pace of imitation. The minute you create a standout piece, your competition is only three months away from turning that originality into part of the clutter. Your content is only as good as its ability to consistently stand out as original and engaging – and stay that way.

These realizations inevitably lead to a recognition that your team’s creative engine is the real competitive advantage for content marketers. As the marketing lifeblood, it needs to be in peak shape, primed to furiously churn out unorthodox taglines, compelling visuals, and innovative angles that will keep you ahead of the pack.

Yeah, your creatives have your brand’s marketing life in their hands.

Here are five essential steps to prime your creatives – designers, videographers, writers, etc. – to crank out outstanding, clutter-busting content that keeps your content ahead of the competition.

1. Lose the productivity vs. creativity paradigm

Tension between productivity and creativity is real, but the either-or mentality is a paradigm in need of a shift. It’s not a zero-sum game. You can have more of both productivity and creativity. 

Don’t make productivity & creativity an either-or mentality, advises @MarcusWorkfront. Click To Tweet

Adobe’s State of Create: 2016 study found that 83% of U.S. respondents felt increasing pressure to be productive rather than to be creative. This reflects a false trade-off many perceive in the professional world – that productivity and creativity are mutually exclusive and somehow counter each other.

In the same study, 81% of respondents said investing in creativity increases employee productivity – overcoming the either-or paradigm. Although more than 75% recognized the value of creativity to society and the economy, only one-third felt they were living up to their creative potential. Take all these stats and you start to see how destructive the productivity vs. creativity paradigm can be to productivity, organizational effectiveness, morale, and retention.

81% of U.S. respondents said investing in creativity increases employee productivity via @adobe. Click To Tweet

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: The 3 Behaviors Driving the Most Creative Content Marketers

2. Make room for creativity-feeding distractions

While Lean Sigma Six project management is a popular option for cutting costs and inefficiencies in businesses, it doesn’t quite work for creative pursuits. In fact, business psychologist Craig Knight explained to us how research shows lean work spaces depress key work variables – including productivity. “No animal, not just homo sapiens, thrives in a psychologically impoverished, high-surveillance space,” he said. “A rat in a lean cage, a chimpanzee in a lean enclosure, and a human in a lean office are all beasts at their lowest ebbs.”

Certain types of distraction can contribute to the creative process. An illustration professor of mine was fond of saying, “You cannot create in a vacuum.” While I know some physicists would argue the scientific validity of this statement, it is certainly true for creativity. “Good” distractions lend inspiration, give your hardworking brain a break, and provide material from which to draw inspiration for your next piece of content.

Certain distractions lend inspiration & can help the creativity process, says @MarcusWorkfront. Click To Tweet

If you visited the work spaces of the special effects artists who fuel the top-grossing sci-fi summer blockbusters – perhaps the most insanely talented but unrecognized creatives on the planet – you might think you took a wrong turn into the studio’s junk closet. The walls are plastered with movie posters, album covers, and disembodied ghoul heads. Shelves overflow with latex appendages, action figures, clusters of paper clips, and modelling clay transformed into miniature monsters in moments of boredom.

Just like rats are happier “scampering under the floorboards, living in a nest of old socks, than living in cages,” humans are happier, and more productive, when given freedom to define their own creative environment. Knight summed it up, “Allow humans to develop their own space and – compared to a lean space – well-being can increase by up to 40%, productivity by up to 32%.”

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: 7 Ways Limitations Can Boost Your Content Creation Productivity

3. Eliminate unproductive distractions

Bad distractions should be identified and eliminated in order for creativity to flourish. Which are the bad ones? Choose any of the squares on this Un-Productivity Bingo card we created.

Hardwire your processes to head off unproductive distractions, like dropping in unannounced for status updates, making creatives manually enter information into spreadsheets, or holding regular meetings where everyone takes turns reporting.

Map your workflow in detail and eliminate the unproductive, non-creativity-inducing tangents. Incorporate into your workflow the tools to automate manual communication and reporting tasks to free up time and space for creativity.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: 7 Productivity Killers for Marketers and How to Fix Them

4. Be thorough gathering requirements

How does the old saying go? “Necessity is the mother of invention?” Creativity may want to run free, but it produces its finest material within established parameters and with specific problems to solve.

Creatives produce their finest materials w/ parameters & specific problems to solve. @MarcusWorkfront Click To Tweet

Constraints drive genius, according to David Sturt, executive vice president at O.C. Tanner, an employee recognition and rewards solution firm. In a study of 1.7 million award-winning people, he found those “who create new value on the job are often inspired by their constraints.” He explains that constraints provide “a starting point and some blocks to work with – a problem to solve, an innovative twist to be revealed, or a person to please.”

Delivering well-defined requirements up front minimizes frustration once the creative process starts – as long as you don’t pull the proverbial rug from under your creatives by changing project goals, vision, timelines, or scope. Embrace the creative brief and stick to the plan.

The responsibility to define parameters falls squarely on the shoulders of the content manager. Gather information on project background, goals and targets, audience, timelines, and core messaging at the start and force requesters to commit to those requirements before any creative work begins.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: The Content Marketing Book of Answers: Managing Your Content

5. Close the feedback loop

Like the rest of us, most creatives are not satisfied with merely creating a great-looking or well-read project – they want that content to do its job. Perform its purpose. When they know how well or poorly their work is doing, they are driven to make tweaks and adjustments to help it succeed.

In fact, feeding your creatives performance data on the work they’ve done has a similar effect as defining parameters and guidelines (Step 4). The more well-defined the challenge, the more they focus their creative powers on overcoming that challenge.

Harvard researchers even identified that the single most important factor to drive creative and productive performance is making progress in meaningful work. A focus on progress also increases employee engagement – and with a 2017 Gallup poll showing that only 33% of U.S. employees feel “engaged” in their work – a vital responsibility for managers.

If you want your content to stand out and actually do what it is meant to do, then prime your creatives to produce clutter-busting content with these five steps. Fuel the creativity and engage your team to produce content. Who knows, you just might hit it out of the park, like the lone fourth-grader who stole the talent show with one as original as Darcy Lynne’s singing ventriloquist.

Editor’s note: We appreciate Workfront’s support of Content Marketing Institute as a paid benefactor. This article was reviewed and edited independently to ensure that it adheres to the same editorial guidelines as all blog posts.

Spur creativity and productivity every day through CMI’s newsletter with tips, trends, and insight to help your content marketing programs. Subscribe today. (If daily is too often, try the weekly digest.)

Cover image by Joseph Kalinowski/Content Marketing Institute

The post 5 Steps to Prime Your Creatives to Produce Outstanding, Clutter-Busting Content appeared first on Content Marketing Institute.

5 Steps to Prime Your Creatives to Produce Outstanding, Clutter-Busting Content syndicated from http://ift.tt/2maPRjm

[lucyariablog]

5 Steps to Prime Your Creatives to Produce Outstanding, Clutter-Busting Content

If you’re like me, you’ve had a moment where you thought your content was outstanding, in the true sense of the word – you really thought it stood out above the competition.

Then you looked around and discovered your unique, original, and unmatched ideas were run-of-the-mill. Suddenly, you felt like you were attending the fourth-grade talent show and realizing your kid was just one of 30 equally precious snowflakes with misguided trombone aspirations.

Let’s say you do produce original and engaging content. If so, you’ll likely discover an insane pace of imitation. The minute you create a standout piece, your competition is only three months away from turning that originality into part of the clutter. Your content is only as good as its ability to consistently stand out as original and engaging – and stay that way.

These realizations inevitably lead to a recognition that your team’s creative engine is the real competitive advantage for content marketers. As the marketing lifeblood, it needs to be in peak shape, primed to furiously churn out unorthodox taglines, compelling visuals, and innovative angles that will keep you ahead of the pack.

Yeah, your creatives have your brand’s marketing life in their hands.

Here are five essential steps to prime your creatives – designers, videographers, writers, etc. – to crank out outstanding, clutter-busting content that keeps your content ahead of the competition.

1. Lose the productivity vs. creativity paradigm

Tension between productivity and creativity is real, but the either-or mentality is a paradigm in need of a shift. It’s not a zero-sum game. You can have more of both productivity and creativity. 

Don’t make productivity & creativity an either-or mentality, advises @MarcusWorkfront. Click To Tweet

Adobe’s State of Create: 2016 study found that 83% of U.S. respondents felt increasing pressure to be productive rather than to be creative. This reflects a false trade-off many perceive in the professional world – that productivity and creativity are mutually exclusive and somehow counter each other.

In the same study, 81% of respondents said investing in creativity increases employee productivity – overcoming the either-or paradigm. Although more than 75% recognized the value of creativity to society and the economy, only one-third felt they were living up to their creative potential. Take all these stats and you start to see how destructive the productivity vs. creativity paradigm can be to productivity, organizational effectiveness, morale, and retention.

81% of U.S. respondents said investing in creativity increases employee productivity via @adobe. Click To Tweet

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: The 3 Behaviors Driving the Most Creative Content Marketers

2. Make room for creativity-feeding distractions

While Lean Sigma Six project management is a popular option for cutting costs and inefficiencies in businesses, it doesn’t quite work for creative pursuits. In fact, business psychologist Craig Knight explained to us how research shows lean work spaces depress key work variables – including productivity. “No animal, not just homo sapiens, thrives in a psychologically impoverished, high-surveillance space,” he said. “A rat in a lean cage, a chimpanzee in a lean enclosure, and a human in a lean office are all beasts at their lowest ebbs.”

Certain types of distraction can contribute to the creative process. An illustration professor of mine was fond of saying, “You cannot create in a vacuum.” While I know some physicists would argue the scientific validity of this statement, it is certainly true for creativity. “Good” distractions lend inspiration, give your hardworking brain a break, and provide material from which to draw inspiration for your next piece of content.

Certain distractions lend inspiration & can help the creativity process, says @MarcusWorkfront. Click To Tweet

If you visited the work spaces of the special effects artists who fuel the top-grossing sci-fi summer blockbusters – perhaps the most insanely talented but unrecognized creatives on the planet – you might think you took a wrong turn into the studio’s junk closet. The walls are plastered with movie posters, album covers, and disembodied ghoul heads. Shelves overflow with latex appendages, action figures, clusters of paper clips, and modelling clay transformed into miniature monsters in moments of boredom.

Just like rats are happier “scampering under the floorboards, living in a nest of old socks, than living in cages,” humans are happier, and more productive, when given freedom to define their own creative environment. Knight summed it up, “Allow humans to develop their own space and – compared to a lean space – well-being can increase by up to 40%, productivity by up to 32%.”

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: 7 Ways Limitations Can Boost Your Content Creation Productivity

3. Eliminate unproductive distractions

Bad distractions should be identified and eliminated in order for creativity to flourish. Which are the bad ones? Choose any of the squares on this Un-Productivity Bingo card we created.

Hardwire your processes to head off unproductive distractions, like dropping in unannounced for status updates, making creatives manually enter information into spreadsheets, or holding regular meetings where everyone takes turns reporting.

Map your workflow in detail and eliminate the unproductive, non-creativity-inducing tangents. Incorporate into your workflow the tools to automate manual communication and reporting tasks to free up time and space for creativity.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: 7 Productivity Killers for Marketers and How to Fix Them

4. Be thorough gathering requirements

How does the old saying go? “Necessity is the mother of invention?” Creativity may want to run free, but it produces its finest material within established parameters and with specific problems to solve.

Creatives produce their finest materials w/ parameters & specific problems to solve. @MarcusWorkfront Click To Tweet

Constraints drive genius, according to David Sturt, executive vice president at O.C. Tanner, an employee recognition and rewards solution firm. In a study of 1.7 million award-winning people, he found those “who create new value on the job are often inspired by their constraints.” He explains that constraints provide “a starting point and some blocks to work with – a problem to solve, an innovative twist to be revealed, or a person to please.”

Delivering well-defined requirements up front minimizes frustration once the creative process starts – as long as you don’t pull the proverbial rug from under your creatives by changing project goals, vision, timelines, or scope. Embrace the creative brief and stick to the plan.

The responsibility to define parameters falls squarely on the shoulders of the content manager. Gather information on project background, goals and targets, audience, timelines, and core messaging at the start and force requesters to commit to those requirements before any creative work begins.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: The Content Marketing Book of Answers: Managing Your Content

5. Close the feedback loop

Like the rest of us, most creatives are not satisfied with merely creating a great-looking or well-read project – they want that content to do its job. Perform its purpose. When they know how well or poorly their work is doing, they are driven to make tweaks and adjustments to help it succeed.

In fact, feeding your creatives performance data on the work they’ve done has a similar effect as defining parameters and guidelines (Step 4). The more well-defined the challenge, the more they focus their creative powers on overcoming that challenge.

Harvard researchers even identified that the single most important factor to drive creative and productive performance is making progress in meaningful work. A focus on progress also increases employee engagement – and with a 2017 Gallup poll showing that only 33% of U.S. employees feel “engaged” in their work – a vital responsibility for managers.

If you want your content to stand out and actually do what it is meant to do, then prime your creatives to produce clutter-busting content with these five steps. Fuel the creativity and engage your team to produce content. Who knows, you just might hit it out of the park, like the lone fourth-grader who stole the talent show with one as original as Darcy Lynne’s singing ventriloquist.

Editor’s note: We appreciate Workfront’s support of Content Marketing Institute as a paid benefactor. This article was reviewed and edited independently to ensure that it adheres to the same editorial guidelines as all blog posts.

Spur creativity and productivity every day through CMI’s newsletter with tips, trends, and insight to help your content marketing programs. Subscribe today. (If daily is too often, try the weekly digest.)

Cover image by Joseph Kalinowski/Content Marketing Institute

The post 5 Steps to Prime Your Creatives to Produce Outstanding, Clutter-Busting Content appeared first on Content Marketing Institute.

from http://contentmarketinginstitute.com/2017/09/creatives-outstanding-content/