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aconstantstateofbladerunner · 5 years

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Blade’s MHA Fanfiction Masterlist

Greetings friends! This is the post listing all my past, present, and future My Hero Academia fanfictions. Links are provided to what has been published so far. Titles, summaries, and chapter counts are not final and will be updated as they change. Please feel free to ask me about any and all the stories described here, not just the ones that have been published. Thanks for reading!

(This currently version 14 of the masterlist, updated 9/9/2020)

Link to my Ao3 if you want to browse there: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aconstantstateofbladerunner/works

The Butterfly Continuity

- Butterfly - (Complete) The first over-night trip off campus since the training camp was supposed to be a fun break from more intense work back home. But between a bleak introduction to chaos theory, a chilly reception from the locals, and the looming threat of a villain attack, Izuku has too much on his mind to properly enjoy the fresh air. But those worries are a light breeze compared to the hurricane that accompanies what he finds on the outskirts of town.

Or rather, what finds him.

Izuku is stalked by a powerful creature who only seems to be interested in him.

32 chapters. It’s done. Beware major character death.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17165612/chapters/40360787

- Moth - So how does Hisashi fit into this aftermath?

11 chapters. Outline complete. There will be angst.

- Exit Light [hiatus] - A young Toshinori is just starting to feel truly at ease with his master and his role as her apprentice. But uncomfortable truths come to light once a villain threatens the lives of their entire town with all-consuming darkness. “Consuming” in this case is literal.

A prequel story that is referenced in Butterfly, but neither are required to understand the other.

4/9 chapters. Major events outlined. Warning for heavy violence in ch. 2.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19233598/chapters/45733516

For Izuku (Bio Dad Might AU)

- For Kurou - For their own safety, Toshinori must remove himself from the lives of his long-time partner and newborn son. But they’re never far from his mind. For years, not a day goes by where he doesn’t write a letter or set aside a gift for their eventual reunion. It isn’t until he’s spent some time with his chosen successor, a young quirkless boy named Midoriya Izuku, that Toshinori’s consistent dedication to his family is interrupted.

Canon divergence fic. Streamlined to the important stuff because there are already an abundance of fics like this and I want to focus on my original stuff. Toshinko. Family angst with a happy ending.

3/30 chapters. Strap in.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22882870/chapters/54692104

- For a Wider World - Izuku hasn’t decided yet if he wants to go public with his heritage. On the one hand, he want to make a name for himself, not just as the son of All Might. On the other, he hates to lie and lying about One for All is hard enough. Most of the people who know the truth will support whatever decision he makes. Sir Nighteye isn’t one of them.

10+ chapters. Basic outline complete. Internship arc.

- For an End to the Pain - UA is under investigation by the Hero Commission, the world knows about the son of All Might, and the fight with Overhaul has left Izuku severe wounds both physical and mental. As the weight of all these drastic life changes bare down on him, for the first time ever, he starts to question if he really wants to be a hero.

8-10 chapters. Basic outline complete. A whole new level of angst.

- Son Rise - Rumors have been circling of a secret All Might lovechild for a while now. A new rumor says that All Might will reveal the child as his successor at the next International Heroes’ Summit in Hawaii. The rest of the hero community has mixed feelings.

Or, “Izuku goes to another country with his dad and has a bad time.” Shameless excuse for me to gush about how cool Hawaii was while also hurting my boy. Some Toshinko on the side. Family angst with a happy ending.

11 chapters. Major events outlined.

Single Fic Dad Might

- Angel’s Egg - Orphaned babies showing up on the stoop of hero agencies is unfortunately not all that rare. And egg the size of a baby is entirely unheard of. Is the child within just the result of an unusual quirk, or something of far greater, supernatural origins?

Kinda out there au where Izuku hatches from an egg and is raised by All Might. That question is posed to me, because I’m not yet sure if I want to go down the mundane or supernatural path; I have potential endings for both.

4/20 chapters. Structure similar to Full Metal Jacket in that the story will shift gears completely in the second half. Heavy violence and potential character death

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21009755/chapters/49966448

- The Wails in the Walls - Toshinori was convinced his cottage was haunted from the day he moved in. He could easily blame the missing objects and little bites in his food on pests, but that wouldn’t explain the faint sound of crying some nights.

Izuku is a tiny child living in Toshi’s walls who survives by ‘borrowing’ little things. Gonna jump between angst and fluffy like a seesaw. Idea originally by @abyssal-glory who graciously gave me permission to use it.

5/21 chapters. Violence, reference to death, and bugs.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20392885/chapters/48368857

- Hanakotoba - Toshinori always wanted a family, but he wanted to be a hero even more. He figured the family thing would happen naturally, but as the years go by and it doesn’t, he finds himself sinking further and further into longing. And then he finds the end of his sorrows in his own garden.

Princess Kaguya au prompted by @agent-jaselin. This one is for sure supernatural.

18 chapters. Outline complete. One scene of attempted sexual assault.

- Son of the Sun - Of all the gods, the Sun is the most generous with its gifts

Fantasy au where Izuku is the only child of the legendary son god Toshinori, and gets swept up in the apocalyptic destruction caused by a few other gods’ petty disagreements.

Outline incomplete, no chapter estimate. This is the new roadtrip au.

Miscellaneous Multi-Chapter

- All but One - Toshinori is given the opportunity to undo over two decades of suffering by going back in time and ending All For One. And that’s just the beginning. He goes on to use his knowledge of the future to correct errors of the past, and makes his new reality infinitely better than the one he came from. Better in every way but one.

Used to be a oneshot, now multi-chapter. Open to making it an au but not sure yet. Based on a bittersweet post by @skygemspeaks

10/18 chapters. This was supposed to be short. Warning for some violence.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18796387/chapters/44597800

- The Necromancer - An unseen villain sets hoards of undead upon Japan. As a designated disaster-relief shelter and a small fortress in its own right, UA becomes host to both the heroes working to stop the onslaught, and several hundred terrified civilians. Supplies and space shrink with each passing day, and it seems like the end to the nightmare is nowhere in sight. Someone is bound to take matters into their own hands.

Zombie Apocalypse AU. Most of the kids stay within the walls to care for panicking civilians, while the heroes take the fight to the outside. At first.

10+ chapters. Some events planned.

- Habitus - Tragedy forces Izuku back into the custody of his father, who he hasn’t seen in years and has a new family of his own. They uproot him from UA, separate him from his friends, and, worst of all, expect him to be happy about it.

Formerly called Where the Heart is. Izuku’s step family from America claims custody of him after Inko passes away, and are less than sympathetic to his situation. He rebels in every way he can, meanwhile All Might and the other teachers comb for any legal loopholes to get him back.

Less than 10 chapters. Outlined.

Oneshots

- Spiked - There’s no such thing as a free meal.

Gore headcanon request that got out of hand. Please read the tags.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20062174

- The Road that went Forever - Izuku’s Papa picked him up from kindergarten that day. He hadn’t done that in a while.

Usually, I write Hisashi as a normal, emotionally distant father. This is not one of those stories. A very sad two-shot.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21754498/chapters/51902485

And that’s all for now! Again, please feel free to ask me about any of these ideas!

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #the fic masterlist #butterfly #exit light #all but one #the wails in the walls #spiked #aconstantstateoffanfiction #angel’s egg #the road that went forever #for kurou

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fandom-trash-xl · 5 years

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One-Shot: Behind Glass

Timeline Placement: Age 774 (5 Years Prior to Tournament of Destroyers)

OCs:

Lord Shiver- Frost's father; Blue-gray King Cold-style Second Form

Realis- Frost's mother; Light gray True Form with cyan biogems

The absence of rushing rain against his skin felt uneasy, but Hit had learned to adapt to it. Most of his assassination missions were fairly close by on his home planet, Daitoshi, a massive metropolis where crime always lurked and rain always poured. However, there was the occasional assignment he had to take off-planet.

His latest task was a particularly large one. He had been assigned with assassinating an Arcosian crime lord, Shiver. This man surprisingly didn't make his business on the galaxy's crime capital planet, but stayed on his species's native planet of Arcos.

Hit was thankful for his stealth abilities because, on a planet inhabited by obscure species such as Arcosians, a man such as himself would stand out like a wolf in a sheep pen, especially with the tails. He could only rely on using his Time Skip to slip by for so long. This invisibility did not last as long as he had hoped.

However, he did manage to make his way to Shiver's estate. It seemed to be in a more secluded region of the planet, blockaded by trees and enamored in shadow. It seemed like a hostile environment- ideal for a target to make his home.

The room was near silent, the only sound being the occasional chatter amidst a few females of the race. He hoped to not draw any attention to himself. Not only would they possibly blow his cover, but he had the feeling they were the type of women that would pounce on him the first chance they got... considering the amount Shiver had.

Keeping his head down, he entered Shiver's meeting chambers. It was darker than the rest of the estate, but, through this darkness, he managed to make out a large throne, but no sign of the Arcosian who sat in it. It was unusual. This location seemed like the most plausible place for him to be, so he kept on his guard anyway.

After sometime of searching around, he suddenly heard echoing footsteps. They didn't seem all too loud and thundering for a man of Shiver's size, but he still sensed an imminent threat. He turned in different directions in a fighting stance. The women stopped their chatter to whisper amongst themselves. A shadow loomed on the wall. Indeed, a horned Arcosian with what appeared to be a cigarette in his mouth. No doubt that this was his target. Yet, he saw no physical being. He continued to be on his guard until a voice spoke.

"What are you doing here?"

He looked around for any source of the voice. There was no one there. Then, where did the voice come from-

"Down here, punk!"

Hit looked down to find a much smaller Arcosian. He only came up to slightly above his kneecaps. Despite his size, he had some maturity to his voice, so Hit figured he was thirteen at the oldest. He wore similar body armor to Shiver and had the same black cape, but his scales and biogems were brighter blues and his horns pointed in diagonals rather than Shiver's hook-shaped ones. The youth had a cigarette dangling from his mouth that gave off no smoke and looked more like a stick of school chalk on further inspection.

"Lord... Shiver?" Hit looked in confusion.

The Arcosian youth simply laughed. "Do I really look like my father that much? How ridiculous..."

"Then, you are...?"

He stepped off towards Shiver's throne and struggled to climb into it, eventually flopping down onto the seat. "Frost. Shiver's son. Hell do you want?"

"I'm here to-" Hit stopped. Frost would most likely report back to his father if he revealed the true reason. "Meet with your father."

"Nice try, bud. No seeing Father without an appointment, no appointments while Father is out." He adjusted the chalk-like stick in his mouth. "Besides, you don't look like any of his usual clientele. Who are you anyway, punk?"

"No one." Hit answered straightforwardly. His name would blow his cover for sure.

"Give me a break." Frost rolled his cherry red eyes. "Everyone's someone, bud, even edgy punks like you. I'm not some dumb kid that, when you cover your eyes with your hands, I'll think you've up and disappeared. Now, if you would be so kind," He flashed his wrist, a metallic needle unsheathing itself. "Please vacate the premises, before I make you into my new cape rack!"

The assassin's eyes widened at the weapon this seemingly innocent youth wielded. "T-that's a--"

"Keen eye of yours, punk. It is indeed a venomous wrist-bound stinger. Just got them put in last week. Would you like to have the first taste~?" Frost taunted devilishly.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it is against my moral code to harm an innocent."

The young Arcosian simply scoffed. "Heh. What a pus--"

"And, I was also wondering why your parents are okay with a child of your age wielding such a weapon?"

"Eh, it's less like being allowed and more like them not knowing. Not like an old punk like you would understand."

"Yet they let you have that cigar?"

"Oh, this thing? It's just some fake chalky candy..." He removed the candy cigarette, which had the other end bitten off. He gave a slight blow on it as if it were a real one, spreading chalky candy dust into the air. "I'd be skinned alive if I touched any of Father's stuff." As he continued to ramble, he turned back to Hit. "Wait a second... I see what you're trying to do. Stop wasting time, you sneaky punk, unless you don't want to see the sun again."

"Understood. I'll return at a later time then."

For the rest of the day, Hit stayed secluded in his ship. His client hadn't set a definite time limit for his assignment, so he had time to kill, but he hoped he could return home soon.

He learned earlier in the day that Shiver was a father to a son, so it was likely he wouldn't be out of the house the whole day. Hit twitched at the thought that one of the crime lord's whores was probably the young boy's mother. But, he set this thought aside and decided it would be best to go after Shiver now that it was evening.

Hit returned to the darkened estate in search of his target. As he neared the entrance, he noticed a head peeping out the window and stopped dead in his tracks.

The boy was still awake. If he was seen, he'd probably be ratted out.

After analyzing an angle of approach, a voice was heard in the house.

"Frost? You still awake?" The voice was feminine. Frost sighed in response, spit out his cigarette candy, and closed the window.

"Yes, mother... I'd better get to sleep so I'll be wide awake for my big day of nothing!" The sarcastic retort could be somewhat heard through the window.

"Oh, I know it's tough, my little icicle, but it's what your father thinks is best for you. If they see you out there, they're going to find out who your father is through process of elimination and you're going to get yourself into trouble. We don't want that, especially considering you'll be a brother soon."

"Oh, and how are they going to live? They're going to sit all day in the hellhole too?" A hard flicking sound was heard. "Ow!"

"Frost, listen to me here. One, cut the language. Two, you need to keep a positive attitude through this. Please, please understand. You need to-"

Hit suddenly shifted, which, surprisingly, attracted the female voice's attention. Did this woman have eagle eyes? "There's someone outside. Get down now, don't let them see you." The assassin lurched, retreating to the darkness to observe.

An Arcosian woman soon exited the building. She didn't look like any of Shiver's hookers- the man must have isolated her. She was light gray and hornless. The gems on her body were the colors of the sky. Small diamond-like jewels of this color were beneath her eyes. She wore a dark hooded gown and a gold and amethyst necklace on a pearl chain. As Hit had heard through the prior conversations, she was a mere few months pregnant, early enough that it was hardly noticeable.

"I know you're out here..." The female snarled, looking back and forth. "I'm not crazy."

Normally, Hit would keep his presence disclosed from everyone except his target. But, seeing this woman losing her mind over this... He stepped out into the open.

"I see... Nothing hides from women like you..."

The Arcosian woman stopped in her tracks. "I-I know know you are... Damn well... You're that legendary assassin I've heard about. Never-Miss Hit was it?"

"You'd be correct."

"I know why you're here... You're here to kill him... Kill my dear Shiver. Uproot our family..." She fumbled at something shiny and silver at her belt.

"Well..."

The woman finally retrieved the item from her belt and flicked open the blade. She now held a well-sharpened knife, pointed at the assassin. "You're not going to get to him... or my son either! I won't let you destroy the family I've worked hard to build... You aren't going anywhere, assassin, and I can assure you why Shiver chose me." Her tail lashed against the ground, before she quickly pounced forward. "KYAAA~!!!"

She made savage jabs at Hit, causing him to promptly dodge using his Time Skip, much to the woman’s fury. “Stop. Dodging. You. Bastard.” She grunted through swings. “Just let me hang you up by your entrails already!”

Damn, this woman is terrifyingly passionate, Hit thought to himself. Despite all of his physical training, the Arcosian was starting to wear him out. He needed to fight back somehow, as his constant Time Skips were starting to sap his energy. Continuing his dodging pattern, he not only fought with an raging reptilian, but his conscience as well.

It was against his moral code to harm an innocent, this woman was just being protective of her husband and son.

But another part of his mind told him that she had no innocence to her name and was a legal target...

That was when Hit winced and took a chance. His eyes were closed tight as he made his strike, hoping he could hold back enough... As time resumed, he breathed heavily and opened his eyes to see...

The woman, hunched over, her knife dropped, and her hand clutching her chest. “You... Bastard...” She wheezed. “Shiver... Won’t let you... Get...” As she finally collapsed, her hand moved from her chest, revealing the heart’s inward compression.

“N-no...” Hit stuttered as he realized. “I-I didn’t... intend to... Please don’t tell me anyone saw...”

A sudden bright red beam shot down from above. He looked up to find Frost standing on the edge by the now broken bedroom window. The youth growled. “How dare you, you cold-hearted murderous SNAKE!” A flurry of more crimson beams rained from the Arcosian’s fingertip. Hit used his Time Skip to dodge the barrage, which only caused Frost to leap down from the windowsill to chase after him. “I’ll turn your body into a footstool and paint it crimson with your blood!” He flicked at the shiny stinger in his wrist, sending the poison dart flying towards Hit, who once again Time Skipped out of harm. He hid against a shadow-covered wall, still in earshot to hear the boy screaming bloody murder.

“Hide if you will, you unforgiving piece of sh-t! My father will hear about this and there will be no escape for you then!”

On that note, Hit chose to make his escape.

“I’m sure you know that Lord Shiver fled from Arcos yesterday. Alive.” The Arcosian client’s tail flicked uneasily as he faced the assassin in the dimly lit office.

“I am well aware, sir. I understand you’re-”

“And you’re just going to let him get away? You of all people?” The lizard’s eyes narrowed.

Hit sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m afraid so... I'd like to remind you that I am still mortal. I’m running on limited business hours because I’m dealing with a lot of mental-”

“So, you’re going to let him run rampant through the galaxy? Just because the so-called tough assassin can’t deal with a little stress on his platter? I think this is just because you think you’re not strong enough-”

Hit rose from his seat. He slammed one hand on the table and grabbed the Arcosian client by his shirt collar. “You may want to remind yourself who you’re talking to.” The client gulped and started to sweat, fearing death, just as the assassin set him down. “I’m afraid my office hours are over. I don’t charge for an incomplete job, so I’ll cancel your transaction.” He crossed out a printed line on the document on his desk with a black ink pen. “Come back in... about a few weeks or so, if it still bothers you.”

He drew the blinds closed and headed towards the door to return to his city apartment on Daitoshi.

Hit kept his living establishment simple, despite his wealth from assassination tasks. As a result, he wasn’t disappointed over a loss of a client’s payment.

But, money was the least of his worries at the time. Ever since he had returned from his mission on Arcos, a thought had been buzzing in his mind. A haunting thought and a stinging feeling of guilt.

He was the reason an innocent woman, an innocent mother of soon to be two... was dead.

He didn’t want to kill her. He just wanted to prove to her that he was not to be taken lightly, but the expression of his power defaulted to a killing blow.

The thought of accidentally killing an innocent woman was enough to unnerve him, but the other repercussions made the situation more difficult to process. The young boy he met the morning of, Frost... he was now without a mother, he lost the prospect of hope in his distraught life that came with a younger sibling... Hit’s actions were probably the reason why Shiver left the planet, uprooting what remained of the family, leaving the boy to live with a scumbag father...

He sighed as he set his boots down by the door. As he approached his bedroom, he unpinned his coattails and removed his elbow and knee guards. He needed to clear his head.

Due to the constant rainstorms on Daitoshi, it was near impossible to tell the time of day from the sky. Watches and other similar technology were the only way to tell. Pushing back his shirt cuff, Hit checked the time on his digital watch. It was only now approaching twelve o’clock noon. Hit grumbled, as he detached the watch from his wrist and tossed it over to a bedside table. “It doesn’t matter...” He slumped onto his bed, still in his usual uniform, and tried to put his mind at ease.

Lord Shiver, crime boss of the planet Arcos, had set into space to expand his reach on the galaxy. After the death of his wife, Realis, and his son reporting a strange purple man in a trench coat behind it all, he felt that he would be hunted down more easily if he stayed in one location. So, he loaded up a shuttle, took Frost, and departed into the cosmos. The blue-gray Arcosian smiled at the sight of all the uncharted planets that speckled the galaxy, a much more divine view than what could ever be seen on Arcos... If only his son had bothered to admire the view on the bridge with him.

Frost had been cooped up in his quarters ever since they had taken off, only leaving its comforts for small meals, which he ate in silence. As a father, it concerned him. Sure, he didn’t spend as much time as he had wished to with his only son, but, since Realis was no longer around for the boy... He felt more of a responsibility for him.

Shiver activated the panel to his son’s quarters, causing the door to slide open. He found Frost on the bed, flopped over face down. He could hear faint and muffled mumbling, interrupted by the occasional *hic* from a catch in the boy’s throat. Dangling from his hand was his mother’s pearl-chained necklace: one of the few remnants of her left. Frost had been insistent on taking it with him.

“Um... Hey... Frost?” He tried to grab his son’s attention, only to receive an irritated tail flick in response. “Kiddo...?” The tail angrily flicked yet again, nearly lashing him like a whip. This time, it was accompanied by an unenthused growl. Despite his clear refusal to cooperate, Shiver still made an attempt. “My little icicle?” He attempted.

He finally got a response, muffled from the pillow. “Only Mother is allowed to call me that. Shut up and leave me alone!” Frost increased his grip on the necklace.

Shiver sighed. “Frost, get up, please.” He squeezed the younger Arcosian’s tail, causing him to jolt upward. He dropped his mother’s necklace and frantically retrieved it from the ground, clutching it harder. The damp and sticky remnants of tears were on his face.

“The hell do you want, Father?” Frost snarled.

“I-I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m. Fine.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “Now, go away!”

“Frost, you’re not okay. I can tell. You’ve been isolated in here crying since we first boarded.”

“I wasn’t cry-” Frost was interrupted by a few fresh tears streaming down his face. He rubbed them away. “This proves nothing.”

Shiver simply laughed. “Sure... Even if it was, that’s still not going to change what I wanted to tell you that’ll probably put you in a better mood.”

“Hmm?”

“How would you feel about finally be unconfined, my boy?”

“What?!” Frost was astonished and nearly fell off the bed.

“Yes, you heard me right. No one knows me out here, so no one will know you. You can be your own person, mold yourself into your own person. You’re free to roam this galaxy, Frost.”

The Arcosian started to shed tears again, not out of grief this time, but out of happiness. “W-why would I pass this up?”

“Excellent.” Shiver smiled. “All according to my ideal vision...”

“Wait, what did you just say?”

The older Arcosian started to sweat a bit. “Umm, nothing, kid.”

5 Years Later, Age 779

Participating in a martial arts tournament brought on by the God of Destruction’s hissy fit with his brother wasn’t Hit’s ideal thought of how to spend the day, but he came to claim a prize. The angel, Vados, had promised him a hexahedron in exchange for the team’s success and such equipment was essential for more efficient work in the future.

In preparation, knowing that killing was a foul, the assassin had worked on his personal skillset. He focused on strength, and holding back enough to avoid further... incidents.

He stood gazing between the pillars of Champa’s foyer, where three other warriors were gathered along with him. One of them was a rather pudgy and rubbery yellow bear and another seemed to be of the Metal Man race. Only one was rather humanoid in physique. He wore a blue and gold uniform and had spiked black hair. He was stretching his legs, most likely as a last minute exercise. Hit still wondered about the scene. Didn’t Champa say there would be five warrior representatives?

“Hey... sir?” A voice asked Hit. He snapped back to reality. “Are you alright? You seemed to spacing out.” The assassin turned around to see the spiky-haired boy, who had finished his warmups.

“I’m fine, kid. It seems we’re waiting on our fifth-”

“Wait a second, would you happen to be the legendary assassin, Hit?” The boy inquired.

“Correct.”

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir. I’ve always looked up to people like you.”

Hit shuddered in surprise. Was this kid serious? “Um, it’s... nice to have fans?”

“Yeah, I’ve always been fond of vigilantes such as yourself. That’s kind of want inspired me to join the Sadalan Saiyan Defense Force. I’m a long time member.”

The assassin sighed in relief. That was why. “Anyways, have you heard anything on the status of the team’s fifth member?”

“I’m not all too sure myself. He should be here, he wouldn’t miss out on an event like this. In fact, he was the one who recommended me to Lord Champa to be invited to fight.”

“Perhaps something’s holding him up.”

As the Saiyan boy prepared to speak again, a feminine voice called out, alerting the God of Destruction. “Lord Champa, your fifth warrior is here!”

“Bring him in, Vados!”

“See?” Hit shrugged. “No reason to worry--” He cut himself off when he saw the member that the angel had led in.

He was a reptilian-like creature, most likely an Arcosian. He had a blue palette and had two diagonally pointing horns. He donned light gray bio-armor and seemed all too familiar to Hit.

“What took you so long?” Champa grumbled in a snarky tone.

The Arcosian bowed lightly. “Forgive my tardiness, Lord Champa.” There seemed a mature accent in his voice, but it still sounded youthful. “I’m usually more punctual. Press meetings ran a bit long.” As he stepped into the foyer with the other warriors, Hit continued to ponder the participant’s identity. The colors, the voice, the horns... He just couldn’t place the name.

That was until the Arcosian and the Saiyan boy began to converse. “I see Lord Champa took my advice and acquired an elite like you for this tournament team, Cabba.”

“And it’s a pleasure to see you again, too, Mister Frost!”

That last word that Cabba spoke echoed in Hit’s mind. Why was that name so familiar...? Suddenly, memories of five years prior came flashing back to him.

“Frost. Shiver’s son. Hell do you want?”

It was... that boy. The Arcosian boy, the one whose mother he had killed by mistake. He hoped that Frost didn’t notice him. He couldn’t bear to remind himself and he didn’t want to remove the ease in the atmosphere by being called out as a murderous snake in front of everyone. Hit averted his gaze, so as not to lock eyes.

As Cabba and Frost continued to speak with each other, the assassin couldn’t help but notice the Arcosian’s eyes peering over at him, promptly widening in surprise (and probably panic as well), then diverting his attention back to the Saiyan. He seemed uneasy and Hit understood why he would be.

This near-silence was interrupted by Champa calling out to the group of five warriors. “Okay, listen up, you five.” All of them stood in an orderly formation at the sound of the deity's voice. “You are all gathered here to fight in a one-on-one tournament against some losers from Universe 7.” Champa spoke of the twin universe as it were the plague. “So, as not to lose to my brother, you’ll need to put in your best effort.” He directed to his angel. "Show 'em, Vados."

"Yes, my lord." Vados projected a hologram of a large pile of gold coins, jewels, and other assorted treasures. "As a reward for winning the tournament, you will each be provided with a portion of the treasure Lord Champa has provided. The total value of--"

Hit stopped paying attention at this point. Finances were none of his concern, as he only needed the promised transport vessel. But, he also averted his attention to note Frost, who was gawking at the prize pile. He was muttering some numbers, mostly likely performing mental calculations. The assassin felt a brushing at his kneecap. He looked down to note the source. Frost's tail was swishing so fast that it was practically wagging.

He resumed his focus when Champa began to speak and the Arcosian's tail stopped moving aimlessly. Frost noticed Hit behind him and started to shift away.

"As you can see, I've collected more than enough incentive for you to give your all. If the five of you win this contest for me, you can take all you want." The God of Destruction turned back to the warriors with a glare. "Don't even ask what happens if you lose."

"We'd best be off to the arena." Vados advised. "It counts to be on time."

Despite the hexahedron's seemingly large size, it was rather compact, probably due to the two large team members. However, minus the massive competitors, it would be ideal for Hit to travel in alone.

As Hit analyzed the space around, Frost was shooting him hesitant glances. When the assassin's eyes met his, he turned his head away.

"I'm sorry, can I help you?"

The Arcosian shivered and turned towards the assassin. "Oh sorry, didn't see you there. You must be Hit, the legendary assassin." He held out his hand. "It's a... pleasure..." His voice wavered, probably due to nerves.

Hit took the hand anyway. “And you must be Frost?”

“Oh, you remembered-” He cut himself off. “I-I mean, uh, lucky guess...”

Hit was confused by Frost’s behavior. Sure it had been five years, but he seemed more mature and well-composed. Yet, he also appeared to be faking confidence.

“Us vigilantes have to stick together you know... And I know how hard it must be. Some of those targets of yours must mean a lot to some people...”

“Uhh, yeah...” Hit understood Frost’s subtle implications... and it made him feel unnerved.

“Well, it’s nice to have people like you sacrificing their time for such a cause.”

As Frost released, Hit couldn’t help but notice the subtle middle finger at his side.

But, the assassin chose to set it aside, as they were approaching the planet with no name.

#dragon ball super #one shot #lore #Frost #Hit #(Please note my previous post about my new shipping opinion regarding age gaps)

6 notes · View notes

junker-town · 5 years

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The AAF’s dramatic collapse, explained

Photo by Logan Riely/Getty Images

The AAF went from the hottest thing in sports to gone in a matter of weeks. How did we get here?

The AAF arrived with excitement, fanfare, and hope. Less than two months later, operations were suspended and a shutdown of the entire league is imminent. The drama played out with anger, backbiting, and pointed fingers. Was the league poised to break out before having its knees cut out from under it, or was the league swallowed up in a billionaire’s scheme to get his hands on some gambling technology?

Many questions are left unanswered in the wake of the AAF’s rapid collapse, but it’s unquestionable that the move caused a lot of pain for a great many people. Players, coaches, officials, and league employees uprooted their lives with the promise of an ideal of an alternate football league, only to have those hopes dashed 60 days later. Now we’ll do our best to make sense of how things went so badly, and why the league is dead.

How it all began.

Influential TV producer Charlie Ebersol (son of former NBC Sports head Dick Ebersol) formed the idea for the AAF in 2016 after working on ESPN’s 30-for-30 documentary on the collapse of the XFL. In researching and producing the documentary, Ebersol came to the conclusion that the concept for a secondary football league was viable in the US, but the XFL’s on-field product and presentation was its downfall. Feeling he could correct the XFL’s errors, Ebersol planned out how the AAF would operate for a launch in 2019.

During those early planning stages Vince McMahon, chairman and CEO of WWE, announced he would be re-launching the XFL, starting in 2020. Initially Ebersol approached McMahon in the hopes of parlaying his idea for the AAF with McMahon’s vision, but ultimately the sides didn’t reach an agreement — which included Ebersol wanting ownership of the XFL brand.

Ebersol continued work on his concept for a football league, and it wasn’t until 2018 that the public heard more information about the AAF. Ebersol secured the services of renowned household names and football minds, including Bill Polian, Troy Polamalu, Hines Ward, J.K. McKay, and Justin Tuck. He followed this up by announcing Steve Spurrier would be the league’s first head coach, lending more credence to the idea that the AAF was a league in its own right, not the machination of a TV producer.

Ebersol explained how he saw the AAF fitting in when he spoke to SBNation.com in February:

“If you’re a player who wants to play in the NFL, another league comes along, you look at that league as an opportunity to show your skills off and get back in the big show. The problem is, if they screw with the game, which all these people have done, you can’t get back in the NFL because if you’re playing in the CFL or another league like that, and NFL’s looking at that the game, it’s so wildly different.”

On Feb. 9, 2019 the league launched and things were wonderful ... for a week.

The AAF gets bailed out.

Signs of trouble emerged in the AAF’s second week with reports that the league was in severe financial trouble. ESPN’s Darren Rovell reported the league missed payroll in its inaugural week, which was initially claimed to be a “glitch” by AAF officials, before news dropped that the league was on the verge of collapse unless an investor stepped in and propped up the organization.

One major issue was that Reggie Fowler, slated to be a $170 million investor in the AAF pulled back, committing only $28 million to the league and leaving the AAF in a lurch.

How was a league in this much trouble, this quickly, considering its early ratings were promising and people were excited? NFL insider Benjamin Allbright said on the radio show Pushing The Odds that the AAF wasn’t making any money off its broadcasts, no matter how many people were tuning in. Part of its partnership with CBS called for the AAF to provide CBS with programming, free of charge, for the first year. This was designed to be a proof of concept, engendering goodwill with broadcasters in the hopes of cashing in for the second season. This ensured the AAF would get plenty of exposure, but did nothing to actually keep the league afloat.

It’s here where billionaire Tom Dundon enters the picture. Dundon, owner of the Carolina Hurricanes, made his fortune off subprime car loans, before parlaying that into a 55 percent purchase of “TopGolf,” which marries sport and technology. Dundon came through as the AAF’s bailout, committing a reported $250 million to ensure operations could continue, but in reality only gave $70 million to the AAF and was operating on a weekly basis. The result of this investment was that Dundon became chairman of the board — and had full control of its future.

Initially, it seemed like the league would survive as a result of the investment, but it wasn’t long before things went bad again.

A plea to the NFLPA.

It’s here where things get muddy. It appears that Polian and Dundon had differing views about how the league should position itself moving forward. Polian saw the AAF as a potential feeder league for the NFL — giving undrafted and cut players an opportunity to showcase their talents in the hopes of returning to the NFL.

Rovell explained the differing opinion:

“Ebersol and Polian’s plan was to develop the league for three years on its own before becoming a feeder system to the NFL. Dundon, however, wanted to create that minor league relationship immediately and sought to use the leverage of folding the AAF to get a deal with the NFL Players Association to better insure a flow between leagues.”

USA Today reported that Ebersol and Polian’s plan had reached a point where they were having informal discussions with the NFL, but nothing had been cemented. Executives believed it would always be a 2-3 year plan to become a minor league for the NFL.

Dundon, on the other hand, wanted to secure a talent-sharing agreement with the NFL immediately. This would allow signed NFL players to compete in the AAF during their offseason. Reports indicate Dundon was so adamant about the NFL supplying the AAF with players that he indicated he could fold the league without an agreement, but the problem was that any kind of deal like Dundon proposed went against the collective bargaining agreement signed by the NFL and NFLPA in 2011.

Players can’t simply be asked to play in another league, and that’s before talking about injury risks. Essentially Dundon wanted NFL players to play in his league, away from their teams, doctors, strength and conditioning staff — allegedly delivering a quick-turnaround ultimatum on an issue that would take months for the NFL and NFLPA to agree upon, assuming they saw value in working with the AAF in the first place. Especially considering they had a CBA negotiation looming.

The end of the AAF.

Reports emerged less than a week after Dundon floated the idea of dissolving the league that the AAF would cease operations at 5 p.m. on April 2. Players and coaches learned of the decision mid-practice, weeks removed from the playoffs and a championship game slated for a primetime slot on CBS, which would have turned more eyes to the league than ever before.

Polian issued a statement prior to Dundon’s announcement blaming the chairman for dissolving the league.

“I am extremely disappointed to learn Tom Dundon has decided to suspend all football operations of the Alliance of American Football,” Polian said. “When Mr. Dundon took over, it was the belief of my co-founder, Charlie Ebersol, and myself that we would finish the season, pay our creditors, and make the necessary adjustments to move forward in a manner that made economic sense for all.”

Then, at 5 p.m. Dundon made a statement to AAF players announcing the league would cease operations. No press release was made public, and the AAF’s own website took days to mention the league dissolving.

New information has emerged about the league’s finances in the wake of bankruptcy filings, and it shows that the AAF ceased operations while massively in the red.

BREAKING: @TheAAF has filed for Chapter 7 Bankruptcy. - In the filings, the league claims assets of $11.3 million and liabilities of $48.3 million. - According to the documents, the league has $536,160.68 in cash. pic.twitter.com/IsOlGi2yoO

— Front Office Sports (@frntofficesport) April 17, 2019

However, it’s unclear what role Dundon is playing in the proceeding, as his name did not appear on the bankruptcy filing itself.

Why did this need to happen?

Currently there’s no good answer, other than money. It’s unclear why Dundon felt the issue needed to be forced with the NFL just a year out from the league needing to negotiate a new CBA with the NFLPA. Trying to play hardball with the NFL at a time its hands were tied seemed misguided, at best.

There’s an alternate timeline here where the AAF could have continued its operations until the NFL/NFLPA negotiations and attempted to be added to the CBA as a viable play alternative to young players, securing Dundon’s long-term goal, instead of pushing for it early.

However, there’s speculation that none of this was really about football. One of the AAF’s most valuable assets was proprietary gambling software the league had built into its app. This combination of real-time fantasy football paired with sports gambling had attractive potential, especially at a time where more states are legalizing sports gambling. Some believe that Dundon’s interest in the AAF was only to secure the technology behind the gambling app.

Perception inside the AAF is that Hurricanes owner Tom Dundon bought a majority stake in the league simply for the gambling app being developed. Source: "Dundon got the technology he wanted and he's now minus one rather large headache."

— Albert Breer (@AlbertBreer) April 2, 2019

Reports indicated that Dundon did not actually own the technology, and court proceedings bore that out. He did not challenge the software’s sale to MGM in the midst of bankruptcy hearings. The app was purchased for the relatively low sum of $125,000 in August. MGM also reduced its bankruptcy claim against the shuttered league from $7 million to $5 million with the sale.

It’s important not to forget the human toll of this situation.

It’s easy to look at the AAF as a curiosity, or laugh at its failure — but the reality is that dozens of athletes, coaches, and employees relied on the AAF for their livelihood. Even if the league was mismanaged the people associated with the league didn’t deserve to have the rug pulled out from under them like this.

Players went from preparing for a game one day, to being kicked out of their hotel rooms and stranded.

Source says AAF teams making players pay for their own flights home. What a clown show this was.

— Robert Klemko (@RobertKlemko) April 2, 2019

Unorganized is an understatement...kicked out of our rooms (that weren’t paid apparently) 17 hours away from home with a car full of my belongings and nowhere to go...#JoinTheAlliance @TheAAF @CharlieEbersol @TDCanes @espn @BleacherReport @aafexpress

— Anthony Manzo-Lewis (@amanzolewis) April 2, 2019

@TheAAF I woke up to over a $2500 charge pending on my account from the Sonesta hotel our team stayed in. I called the bank and Memphis team president. My only option is to dispute the charges on Monday. The same thing happened to other players on our team @ohrnberger

— Adrien Robinson (@ItsARob8One) April 4, 2019

Things reached a point where players weren’t even fed before games. It was on them to find their own food, using a per diem to cover their costs.

Couple other cost-cutting AAF details I unearthed/found interesting ... • Only coaches/players were allowed eat on the team plane. Docs, trainers, equipment guys weren't fed. • Night-before-game team dinners were eliminated. Players got a $30 per diem instead.

— Albert Breer (@AlbertBreer) April 2, 2019

Employees were sent a cold email notifying them that their employment had been terminated.

The email #AAF employees were sent minutes ago, announcing the almost assured end of their inaugural season and the immediate suspension of their league’s operations. (Via an AAF source.) pic.twitter.com/iS2rPzXy4d

— Aditi Kinkhabwala (@AKinkhabwala) April 2, 2019

Charles James II, cornerback for the Memphis Express is used to being forced to make changes over the course of his football career — but the collapse of the AAF hit him hard.

“A lot of these guys are younger guys who had never been through this process,” James said. “I’ve never been in the process of a league ending, but I’ve been cut before. Seven times. I’m used to picking up and being in another place. But this is too fast, too soon. We’re talking about relationships, memories, all that — gone.”

Other players just wanted to know about their healthcare and paychecks.

“Questions immediately shifted to how long their health insurance would last, and whether they’d just received a final paycheck. Some coaches simply sent their teams home.”

Numerous entities are out in the cold as a result of the AAF’s problems. UCF lost $1 million it was promised for hosting Orlando Apollos games. Vendors in San Antonio are owed $4 million, and it’s unclear if they’ll ever see a cent. The ripples of the league’s collapse extend far beyond those directly employed or playing for the league. It’s impacting lives everywhere.

Now, players are in limbo. Shortly after the NFL reportedly released a memo barring teams from signing former AAF players due to the league’s legal problems, the AAF announced that its players were free to sign with NFL teams.

It didn’t take long for players to be signed, with more than 40 players getting signed within a week of the AAF’s demise. That includes:

Carolina Panthers: defensive tackle T.J. Barnes, center Parker Collins, tight end Thomas Duarte, offensive tackle Brandon Greene, guard Kitt O’Brien, receiver Rashad Ross

Chicago Bears: kicker Elliott Fry

Cleveland Browns: quarterback Garrett Gilbert

Dallas Cowboys: defensive end Shakir Soto

Denver Broncos: cornerback De’Vante Bausby

Jacksonville Jaguars: defensive back Cody Brown

Kansas City Chiefs: cornerback Keith Reaser

Los Angeles Rams: quarterback John Wolford

Miami Dolphins: guard Michael Dunn, linebacker Jayrone Elliott, running back Kenneth Farrow, linebacker Tyrone Holmes, wide receiver Reece Horn, tackle Jaryd Jones-Smith, defensive tackle Joey Mbu

Minnesota Vikings: safety Jordan Martin, linebacker Greer Martini, defensive end Karter Schult, safety Derron Smith, cornerback Duke Thomas

New York Giants: defensive back Henre’ Toliver

New York Jets: quarterback Brandon Silvers

Oakland Raiders: defensive end Alex Barrett, wide receiver Demornay Pierson-El

Philadelphia Eagles: wide receiver Charles Johnson, quarterback Luis Perez

Pittsburgh Steelers: defensive tackle Winston Craig, center J.C. Hassenauer, linebacker JT Jones, cornerback Kameron Kelly, defensive back Jack Tocho

San Francisco 49ers: offensive lineman Daniel Brunskill, defensive lineman Damontre Moore

Tampa Bay Buccaneers: safety Orion Stewart

Tennessee Titans: tight end Keith Towbridge, quarterback Logan Woodside

Washington: linebacker Andrew Ankrah, linebacker DeMarquis Gates, guard Salesi Uhatafe

It appears only the NFL is open to signing these players, however — leaving the CFL out of the loop, albeit with some dubious contract language from a league that no longer exists.

CFL league office notified all CFL teams that the AAF will not allow its players to sign with any teams despite the fact it is now in breach of playing contracts, per league source.

— Adam Schefter (@AdamSchefter) April 12, 2019

On Wednesday, April 17 the AAF issued a statement that the league was effectively dead following bankruptcy proceedings.

AAF statement on league filing for bankruptcy. pic.twitter.com/wXTh2eZmEL

— Darren Rovell (@darrenrovell) April 17, 2019

Financial documents regarding the league showed that when the AAF ceased operations they had $48.3 million in liabilities, and just under $12 million in total cash and assets. Court filings show that Charlie Ebersol was listed as part of the bankruptcy, but not Tom Dundon — whose organization did not provide information.

A deep dive into the league’s operations by ESPN detailed how the AAF operated in chaos. Dundon, Ebersol and Polian rarely saw eye to eye on any of the league’s operations, and the entire process of it dissolving was a mess.

The players involved might not agree with every element of the story, but there seems to be a few consistent threads: Ebersol was desperate to make the league work. Polian was convinced an agreement could be reached with the NFL on player sharing. Dundon knew almost nothing about the business he was getting into.

The one element that jumps out is just how abrupt and cruel the final day of the AAF was. Ebersol and Polian only learned that the league would be suspended the same morning it was finally shuttered, and when they asked Dundon’s office for clarification they learned that everyone would be fired at 5 p.m. Not simply an announcement that the league would end operations, but everyone would be out of a job.

There were laudable things the AAF attempted to do that would have changed football for the better. It tried to provide opportunities to overlooked players. It gave them healthcare. The league brought innovation and integrated fans into the experience in a way the NFL has never done. The early returns showed that these were influential enough to have the NFL considering some innovations, with variations appearing at the NFL owner’s meeting in March.

In the end, the story of the AAF might not be one of a league full of promise that flew too close to the sun, and instead the tale of a billionaire destroying a league to get some software. Nobody is better off for the AAF dying, and it’s all a shame.

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tisfan · 8 years

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Doom’s Day Scenario

Part Three of that IronDoom fic that nobody asked for.

NSFW, contains smut, identity porn, blow jobs, and Reed Richards being an asshole.

To Victor goes the Spoils A Stark Reminder

New text from Unknown: Grand Hotel, Stockholm. Friday night 9pm local. Ask at desk for Mr. Alil.

Tony’s phone nearly spilled out of his hand, he was shaking that hard. Twenty-thousand, six hundred and fifty two minutes since he’d heard anything from Rabun, and Tony had been an absolute terror. Even Pepper had given up trying to coax him into some semblance of civility, banished him to the workshop rather than make clients and partners work with him, and even refused to let him even attend the board’s semi-annual meeting.

Being in the workshop hadn’t helped. He’d yelled at DUM-E so often that the bot was sulking in his charging station and refusing to hear Tony’s apology. Tony hadn’t been able to create. He hadn’t been able to do anything useful. He’d just sulked, poked at a few old ideas, drank breakfast, forgot about lunch, slept through dinner. Tony Stark, fully capable of sleeping anywhere except in an actual goddamn bed, and his back wasn’t thanking him for that, at all.

And suddenly the ache in his chest was eased, enough that he filled his lungs with air, it felt, for the first time in days. He became aware of how hungry he was, and for that matter, the fact that he smelled of unwashed sweat and motor oil. He checked his phone; the message hadn’t disappeared. That would be a nightmare, and he knew that for a fact because it was one he’d had. That he’d gotten a call or a text or anything, and woken up a few minutes later to find out that nothing of the sort had happened.

Wednesday? How had it gotten to be Wednesday already? Okay, Tony supposed if you were thinking in terms of hours and minutes, days of the week sort of faded out to unimportance.

[more below the break, you can read from A03, mobile users]

But it gave him some time. Food first, then shower, and then… he was pretty sure he could finish that improvement to the suit’s power conversion system, to eke another six percent out of the repulsors.

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir?” The AI sounded relieved, which was somewhat annoying. Tony Stark was a grown-assed man, he could take care of himself just fine, thank you very much.

“Set an alarm for me, I absolutely need to be in Stockholm by 6, local time. Get a hotel room, and --”

“Are you flying, sir, or flying?”

“Smart ass,” Tony muttered, looking for his multitool, he was sure he’d left it around here -- aha! There were problems with either answer. Tony Stark’s private jet was not what one would call discreet, although it wouldn’t be the first time he just randomly up and went someplace. On the other hand, the Iron Man suit was waaaay beyond incognito and everyone noticed him. One of these days, he really needed to build a stealth suit. He made a note in one glowing screen in front of him and flipped it into his ever-growing honey-do list. He certainly wasn’t flying commercial.

“I’ll take the jet,” he decided. Easier to explain that he’d gotten himself a craving for fläskpannkaka or something and gone out for dinner. “But don’t let me be late.”

“Of course not, sir,” JARVIS said, “provided you actually heed any of my reminders.”

“That’s it, you’re going off-line and I’m going to break you down for spare parts to run my GPS.”

“I tremble in fear,” JARVIS responded.

“You should,” Tony said. “I threw the last GPS out the window; it kept telling me to make legal u-turns as soon as possible.”

“If you would not persist in driving in the wrong direction --”

Tony held up one finger and JARVIS shut his synthetic trap, which was good, because Tony thought he finally had a handle on that oscillating quantuum pulse phenomenon. He jotted that down, tagged it, and sent it to the correct file, letting his fingers fly over systems and notes and wireframes and designs without hesitation, fully back in his zone for the first time in weeks. It was wonderful.

What started as a chess move in the game of figuring out what the hell was going on inside his head and heart had ended with a crate of advanced biological water filters. The technology was decades ahead of most; the various clean-water crises that developed across the globe (Flint, Michigan, Burkina Faso -- where less than thirteen percent of the population had access to clean water -- or Chad, which had an even lower population, and a brutal rate of water-contamination related deaths) had driven the Morocco to push funding toward clean, sustainable water supplies.

Latveria was an enforced monarchy; the one law of the land was that Doom would provide.

For all that, in essence, Doom’s country was under military guard all the time, that speaking out against his leadership was a crime punishable by death, and that no one was allowed to enter, or leave, the country without his express permission, Doom took care of his people.

In theory.

Doom summoned his court advisor. Did the man even have a name? Doom couldn’t remember. He’d been so busy with dreams of world conquest, with fighting endless battles with the Fantastic Four (more like Fantastic two, one jackass and an ambulatory wall) that he’d been neglecting his duties.

The advisor, a wispy-looking sort, who bowed so deep that his head brushed against the floor, was trembling to be called into Doom’s presence. That was no good.

Doom ran his fingers under the jawline seam of his armor. No one, save Tony Stark, had seen his face in decades, not his servants, his enemies, not even his people. No one. He wondered what the man thought was below the Doom mask. Perhaps… the scar had not bothered Tony, had not been anything but a mild curiosity. Tony’s fingers had touched Doom along the scar and the world had not ended. For such a small thing, Doom had hidden his face, kept himself free of human entanglements and a simple caress had changed… everything.

Doom sighed. He was not ready.

“Report on the state of Latveria,” Doom commanded. “Honest. Doom requires knowledge of the problems of the people.”

It had taken rather a lot of Doom’s most tactful words -- and he did not have a ready supply of them -- and persuasion to get the adviser to speak to facts. Even as the man had done so, he’d been shaking the entire time.

Doom couldn’t decide if he required a new adviser, or if his adviser was in dire need of a sedative. Probably both.

In the end, Doom had to bring in outside consultants, and the first reports that they brought in were not favorable, although they were less dire than perhaps they might have been.

Most of Doom’s people were homed, which made his rate of poverty slightly above global norms, but part of that was because policy had dictated that the homeless persons were not to bother the sight of their beloved rulers, so those who could not find stable housing were either incarcerated, or worse, executed.

Fortunately, as a monarchy, Doom didn’t have to press laws through a congress or house of lords, but he still had to notify each and every single one of his enforcers -- although many of them were Doombots and therefore a simple software update was all that was required -- there were still some remote villages where the local enforcement were all too human, and all too used to having their own way.

He’d had to stomp down firmly on one incident, but in the end, Doom gathered all those who were not currently housed and put them to work. Machinery was brought in to clear the grounds; for the first time in centuries, a new town would be founded. Trees were uprooted, the area cleared. Everyone who could work was put on the task.

Now, Doom just needed housing. He’d taken the opportunity while abroad to look into the technology that other nations were developing and Sweden had some pretty good ideas, including easily fabricated housing. The materials were weather-proof for both heat and cold, kept rain and ice out, were easily adapted to whatever sort of foundations were available, and came with solar panels and ventilation air cooling, that they would not be a drain on a country’s already strained resources.

Perfect. Doom booked travel, that he might speak with the production engineers there, under the name of his travel alias, Rabun Alil, a business investor. He’d get the contracts set up, have the materials shipped into Latveria by air -- it would take some small amount of time, since the one airport was decades old and not large, but there were so few routes into and out of his nation. Doom and his ancestors had been very interested in keeping the population isolated, but that was not going to go well anymore. The world was too small for that.

He purchased a burner phone as soon as he was outside the borders and sent Tony a message. He would be in Sweden for the week, but there was no reason he couldn’t combine a little pleasure with business.

He sent the text, then crushed the phone in one metal-enclosed gauntlet. He would never use a phone twice; that made him much too easy to track. Doom removed his suit and dressed, for the first time in decades, as merely himself, as Victor, and boarded a plane in Hungary, bound for Sweden. A few days work and he could, perhaps, look forward to seeing Tony for the week’s end.

The desk clerk had an envelop for Tony when he asked for Mr. Alil. Out slid another card key and a note with the same impeccable, decorative handwriting.

The room was empty when Tony entered it, no warm, welcoming smile greeted him. Tony put his overnight bag down and prowled through the room. Rabun had left a bag, a laptop computer, some brochures, and a plate of chocolate dipped fruit, along with a bottle of champagne that was slowly sinking into the bucket of melting ice.

Tony made himself at home, drank a sparkling water from the mini-fridge, and helped himself to some chocolates. He was a bit tired; the renewed energy he’d gotten from the text had been burned into his work, a rather lengthy apology to Pepper, and then the Avengers had called on him for a little bit of saving the world. All in all, he’d barely managed to sleep before he was on the jet and headed across the ocean.

Tony stretched out on the sofa and stared at the mural that had been painted on the ceiling, all pudgy angels and depictions of God giving life to the earth. Tony let his eyes drift shut.

A heavy, warm hand came down on his shoulder some unknown time later. “You don’t want to sleep here, love,” a familiar voice spoke. “You’ll hurt your neck.”

Tony mumbled, tried to roll over and found himself blocked by a muscular chest. He managed to pry open his lids, saw a beautiful mouth that turned up in a warm smile, familiar amber-hazel eyes. Then the smile vanished and Rabun leaned in to kiss him.

A touch of lip to Tony’s. Only that, and the world shifted under Tony, rocking uncertainly. Tony reached up, touched Rabun’s face, his thumb tracing the line of his scar. “Good morning, gorgeous,” he said, voice still sleep-muzzed.

“Sorry I’m late, beloved,” Rabun said, and he ran one hand down Tony’s shoulder, traced the line all the way until he gripped Tony’s wrist, rubbing his thumb lightly against the pulse point.

“What have you been doing?”

“Investing,” came the evasive reply. Rabun kissed Tony’s cheek, then lifted him as easily as if the genius was a doll. “Come to bed.” The sheer, physical power of Rabun was exciting, hot. The way he cradled Tony to his chest in a possessive manner. Rabun pressed his mouth to Tony’s as he crossed the room, tasting and challenging, like a dare that Tony wasn’t quite certain he was strong enough to handle, and yet, Tony had never yet backed down. He returned Rabun’s kiss with energy, the feel and taste of his mouth was beyond sweet. Dangerous and tempting, nothing like the current of kisses he’d experienced before, but a great undertow that would suck him down and drown him in desire.

Tony circled his arms around Rabun’s neck, held on while the world tumbled away into nothingness. Tony had tasted Rabun’s mouth a dozen times or more, and still, the mere memory of the touch of his lips kept Tony awake at night, restless, dreamless. Sweet like sin, dark like coffee.

Rabun met his kiss headlong, mouth pressing tight to Tony’s, his tongue curling in tempting dance, the feel of his mouth heated with wanting.

Secured in Rabun’s arms, Tony was still dizzy, like falling, like flight. He wasn’t sure where he was going to land, and he didn’t particularly care. In the back of his brain, a small voice murmured of danger, of foolishness, but Tony shoved it aside. What good were warnings when he was already drunk on Rabun’s kisses? What need was there of caution, when he’d already thrown it to the wind? He let Rabun bear him down onto the bed, stripping him out of his clothes as they consumed each other in the fire of their passion.

New text from Unknown: Mandarin Presidential Suite, Tokyo, Tuesday

Crap. Tony stared at his phone in dismay.

I can’t, baby. How long will you be there? He thumbed as quick as he could. Rabun’s phones never lasted long, the number was often out of commision within an hour. Paranoia, Tony had accused him, but they didn’t talk much about it. There was a lot they didn’t talk about, despite the hours they spent laying in each other’s arms, speaking of everything else under the sun.

Rabun was formally educated, a fan of Western literature. The faintest trace of his accent put Tony in mind of Romania, or another one of those small, eastern European nations. They watched British sports together -- Rabun was in particular fond of cricket and he thought American football was the second stupidest thing in the world, immediately after synchronized swimming.

In the last several months, Tony had found himself dragged to the opera a few times, which became a lot more sexy with Rabun leaning over and whispering translations of German, Italian, and French in his ear. Tony didn’t need the Italian, but he didn’t bother to mention it, liking the feel of Rabun’s body draped over his.

They explored various cities together; Rabun’s business, whatever it was, kept him travelling. They seldom met in the same country more than once. Rabun was an adventurous gourmet, willing to try just about anything, but always vocal when he didn’t like a thing. To Tony’s shock and eternal amusement, Rabun hadn’t had much experience with sweets; things like chocolate and ice cream were novelties, and Tony had spent a lot of time dragging the man to various confectionaries.

New text from Unknown: Not long enough. Beijing in three weeks. I’ll miss you.

Fucking Senate hearing. Tony wanted to scream. He’d tried dodging them before, and that had been more trouble than it was worth. Tony was the public face of the Avengers, taking all their PR slack and turning their actions into legal activities. If he missed the hearing, Fury would have Tony’s head on a platter. Not that Tony was afraid of Fury, but honestly, Fury just made his life harder when thwarted.

Yeah, miss you, too.

Beijing had been a shit show of epic measure.

The Skrullz had gotten up to some ridiculous plot in the midwest, of all places, so by the time Tony showed up in China, he was exhausted from three days of fighting and then another day of dodging the press; one of whom actually had a photograph of Tony with some unknown man in Germany and wanted to know who Tony’s new sweetheart was. That had taken some clever dodging.

And then when he finally got to China, there’d been a mix up with the hotels, and Rabun wasn’t where Tony had expected him to be. By the time he got a second text with the new direction, Tony was beyond dead on his feet.

When Rabun had finally found Tony -- who’d checked into a random hotel just to get off his fucking feet -- Tony had been cranky, underfed, uncaffeinated. They’d almost had a fight. God knows, Tony had been trying his damndest to pick one, because it was starting to feel to him like he was at Rabun’s beck and call.

“I have obligations, my darling,” Rabun had said. “It is not mere business that takes me ‘round the globe. There are people depending on me.”

“Yeah, well,” Tony sulked, “it’s not like you don’t know where I live.”

Which Tony did not know about his lover, not even what country the man was from. When asked, Rabun had said little, except that his home was empty, and too large. Tony could sympathize with that, he’d been in Stark Mansion a few times after his parents’ death and the huge home seemed cold without another living soul in it. Tony’d had the place shut down and rarely visited.

“You know we have to be careful,” Rabun said. He pulled Tony into his lap, nuzzling at his neck.

“I just feel like you’re not prioritizing,” Tony complained. “That… I don’t mean as much to you -- I drop everything to come see you, all the time. You don’t even keep the same phone long enough for me to have a conversation.”

“I don’t exist in your world, Tony,” Rabun said, heaving a great sigh. “I would put you at risk, terrible risk, if we were found out. We meet like this because it is all that I can have.”

“You know who I am,” Tony pointed out.

“I do,” Rabun said. “I have made a great study of your Avengers. I know your capabilities. Now, will you believe me when I say, this puts you at risk. I do not underestimate your abilities, nor do I overstate the threat. I am working, even now, to change things, that it will be different, but those events take time to set in motion. It may be years before we can… have anything other than this. Will you not… do you not want to give me the time?”

Tony closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Rabun’s neck. “Whatever you need. I’m sorry, I just… I’ve missed you.”

“And I, you,” Rabun said, carding his fingers through Tony’s hair. “Truth, each day seems an eternity that I am not with you. My plans. So much has changed, since we met. My life was empty and I did not even know it.” He nipped at Tony’s mouth, coaxing and gentle until Tony couldn’t stand the light touches any longer and threw himself into the kiss with as much heat and passion as he could.

“I didn’t mean to interfere with your life,” Tony said, teasing.

“Yes, and how dare you,” Rabun responded, licking at Tony’s neck, tempting him out of his clothing. “You have ruined me with your mouth and wrecked me against your body; you have changed me forever, that I might never want another, but you.”

“Oh, this is all my fault now?” Tony had his hands under Rabun’s shirt, those fine, taut muscles and silk-soft skin luxurious under his fingertips. “I’ve what, been throwing myself at you and you’re just --”

“Giving in to your wiles and seductions,” Rabun said. He yanked Tony’s slacks open, pushing the fabric down Tony’s thighs. “Overwhelmed by you.”

“Well, I am pretty amazing,” Tony said. They weren’t going to make it to the bed this time, Tony could tell. That was all right, he was just as eager to get his hands on his lover, to touch and kiss and caress. To feel Rabun’s mouth; the man had a damn talented tongue and left bruise and bite marks on Tony’s neck that he’d sometimes had to hide with makeup, just so he didn’t look completely debauched at stockholder meetings.

“You are,” Rabun said. “perfection.” The fire was back, driving Tony to distraction. He got his hand inside Rabun’s pants, rubbed at the hot length and groaned with appreciation as Rabun threw his head back and cried out with need. God, the man was beautiful, from the silver tips of his hair, down amber colored eyes, a firm, fine mouth and determined chin. He was scarred here and there, had been shot at least three times that Tony could tell from old wound-marks. Not that Tony’s body told a much different story.

Sometimes it seemed that their clothing melted away, other times it was impatient, frustrating work getting down to bare skin. That night was a dream, peeling away the layers and taking their time, touching and caressing, not in such a hurry, knowing they’d get there, finally, finally.

Rabun’s mouth on him was a blessing, the sweetest sin and Tony arched into it, the head of his cock slipping into that plush, wet mouth. He raised his hips off the sofa and Rabun tugged his pants the rest of the way down, hands smoothing the way. Nudging at the back of Rabun’s throat, it was so good, so slick, and if Tony didn’t concentrate on his breathing he was going to disgrace himself by coming inside two minutes. That would never do. And yet, Rabun wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t slow, just kept his head moving as Tony thrust up and god, that was --

“Shit, shit, shit,” Tony chanted, and Rabun pinned his hips down, holding him so tight he could barely move, couldn’t do anything but submit to the wet pull of Rabun’s mouth, the tantalizing tongue. Tony’s body arched and twisted, he had no control, was totally enthralled by what Rabun was doing to him, how good it felt, how necessary. He lost any sense of what he was doing, just needed, needed to feel. His hands twisted against Rabun’s hair, the short, silken locks sliding between his fingers. Lower still, and Tony’s fingers sank into the hard shoulders, nails biting down as he held on for dear life. His blood was rushing in his veins and pounding in his head. Everything was shaking, his legs, his belly tightened. “Oh, god…”

Rabun didn’t stop when Tony came, didn’t even give him a chance to catch his breath. He just snagged the bottle of lube and started prep, his mouth still working over Tony’s oversensitive and slowly deflating cock. Tony squirmed, almost struggled, too jittery to relax. He cried out, more than once, as Rabun worked a finger into him, and then a second. His cock ached, too much, too hot, and finally, almost in self-defense, grew hard again.

“There you are,” Rabun said, finally pulling his mouth off, and Tony heaved for breath, tender and throbbing.

“Well, it’s pointless to stop now,” Tony said, petulant.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Rabun said. He dragged Tony’s thighs up, hooked them over his shoulders. “Can I --” he stopped, gazing up into Tony’s face “-- without?”

God, that was… Tony shuddered. Trust, on both sides. He knew he was clean, a benefit of having one’s own personal doctor. Ever since Afghanistan, he’d been wary of hospitals and he had never been a big fan of medical care even before that, but the arc reactor had made it necessary. “I’m clean,” he said. “If you are.”

Rabun slicked himself and breached the ring of muscle. Tony wriggled, feeling his body giving way, slow and sensual, burning ache and stretch. Slowly, the faint pain faded, the pressure eased, and his muscles let go, letting Rabun in. Rabun leaned down, pressed in further, touched his mouth to Tony’s and as Tony twined his arms around Rabun’s neck, to pull his lover closer, the excitement and need came back. Rabun worked in him, slow, almost too slow, and Tony groaned. “Come on, come on,” he said, urgent, his fingers tightening on the back of Rabun’s neck.

Rabun thrust into him, again, and again, and Tony’s body moved without his direction, matching stroke for stroke, crooning encouragements and need into Rabun’s ear. Like some transcendent experience, he was lifted up and dropped

“So gorgeous,” Rabun was murmuring in his ear, and Tony could barely hear it, so wrapped up was he in the movements and the feelings and the thick, sensual slide of Rabun’s cock, and…

“Oh, my… god.” Tony twisted his hips.

“Yes, love, I’ve got you,” Rabun said, and then he ducked his chin, groaning as he thrust one last time into Tony. “That’s… exactly. Right.”

Tony drifted, hazy on the cloud of hormones and bliss. He couldn’t explain it, didn’t want to, how safe and warm and perfect he felt. He patted one hand on Rabun’s shoulder. What had Rabun said? It seemed important somehow. “Love you, too.”

“What?”

Tony groaned, leaning back in his desk chair. He didn’t want to be talking to Reed Richards. Richards annoyed the shit out of him, if for no other reason that the man was almost as smart as he thought himself to be. Arrogant, annoying, and with the personality of a cheese grater. And when Tony was feeling generous, probably Tony’s equal, just in an unrelated field. But like all geniuses, Richards was convinced that his field of expertise was the most important, that his intellect was the most keen.

Which, obviously, it was not.

“We think Doom’s gotten his hands on some of your tech,” Richards said. “Not sure what, or what he plans to do with it. Since I can’t make heads or tails of your spare parts, Sue thought you should come with us.”

“You’re going to Latveria?”

“Doom’s been all over the world, recently, but the last movement we had on him, he was home. Come with us, we’ll knock on his door and Ben can beat the tar out of him for a while.”

“Does that actually work?” Tony sighed. It was going to create an international incident, to raid Latveria without any sort of evidence. Although, knowing Doom, there would be something shady going on there. They could probably make it work.

“Talk to Fury, get him to issue an edict or something,” Tony said, waving a hand, forgetting that Richards couldn’t see him through a speaker phone. He pulled out his cellphone. Maybe, maybe this time…

You there, babe?

New text from Unknown: Yes.

Gonna be near Hungary in two days, if you want to meet me for a change.

New text from Unknown: Why?

Superhero shit. Petty dictators. I don’t think they have good hotels in Latveria, tho, so I’ll find someplace else to go for the night. I’ll let you know.

Rabun didn’t answer, but that wasn’t unusual. Tony would see if he texted back later, from yet another new number.

Doom stared down at the burner phone. He’d forgotten to destroy it, so wrapped up in Tony’s declaration of love.

Fuck.

Doom was in so much trouble.

TO BE CONTINUED

(please don’t kill me)

#IronDoom #fic #victor von doom #tony stark #Tony x Victor

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