Main [ playboy genius philanthropist;; main Tony ]
Tony has survived all kinds of things; from his ‘uncle’ trying to kill him, to Ultron’s attack and now he’s one of the survivors of Thanos’ attack and he’s struggling with the guilt of so many people dying in front of him, brought back to earth by Thor and hiding away with a bottle of alcohol and his own mind.
Fox [ cunning by nature;; fox Tony ]
Tony is the last known Stark – the last of a very powerful clan of kitsune. Keeping his fox nature under wraps has been hard from time to time, but his love of mechanics is helped by his electricity.
Model [ camera flashes are the norm;; model Tony ]
Tony grew up in the spotlight because of his dad’s business but he wanted a life of his own, out of his father’s shadow. So modeling became his niche, and he carved his own brand over the years and is still the number one sought after model in the continental US.
Vampire [ rare breed of immortal;; vampire Tony ]
Tony has lived for centuries, an immortal with an ability that makes him as feared as it does make him a target. He’s been gifted with his fire from the start, and he’s not afraid to use it when he needs to.
Fandom: Marvel x Teen Wolf Crossover Ships: Steve Rogers x Peter Hale Plot: Steve and Peter have been dating over a year and Steve just found out his boyfriend is a werewolf. Can love endure?
Steve pulled into the driveway of his house, turning the engine off and sitting quietly. It was small, relatively speaking. It had three bedrooms [one was a study/library and the other was a guest room on the off-chance Natasha or one of the others stopped by], and two bathrooms. The living room and dining room were basically the same area and the kitchen was spacious but not huge like at Avengers Tower. He wasn’t expecting anyone tonight, and he hoped no one called him back into work at the Sheriff’s station where he’d been given a job over a year ago. He was still a bit stunned at what he’d seen, or rather who he’d seen change into something not quite as human. Getting out and making sure the door was locked, he took the steps up onto the porch and unlocked his front door. He’d heard enough of the things in Beacon Hills that he felt better leaving it locked if he was gone even for a minute. Walking in, he took the jacket he’d been wearing off and hung it on the coat rack in the corner of the small foyer, locking his door again. He moved to the couch, letting his body lay back across it as he stared at the ceiling. He just needed to take it in for a minute, wrap his head around everything that had just happened.
Apparently, Peter knew that.
Glancing at his phone, Steve hadn’t heard it ring once since he’d left the man the werewolf in the wooded area where Steve jogged after work. Peter was a werewolf, there was no denying that. But what Steve was having trouble understanding was why Peter wouldn’t have told them. Better yet, he was trying to figure out why it hadn’t truly bothered him despite the initial shock. He’d been living in Beacon Hills for well over a year now, closer to two years, been seeing Peter more than half that time. While Steve was a little bit disconcerted by the lack of information, he was also aware there were personal things similar to it that he had never told Peter. Starting with his real last name. Since meeting Peter, and subsequently the few Hales that remained of the man’s the wolf’s family, he had been known as Steven Grant, not Steven Rogers. He had needed the anonymity of not being recognized. Peter knew Steve was human but could heal fast, which looking back made more sense when Peter hadn’t been bothered by the suddenly missing gunshot wound Steve had gotten while breaking a drug sell. Things were being seen in new light on so many instances for Steve now, and he wasn’t sure why he liked it more than he was concerned. Like the time he’d been making Alfredo and Peter, who had a key after the two had been together almost six months, came over and immediately knew what kind Steve was cooking. There was also the time when Peter had known, without Steve having to say a word, that Steve was upset and had just held him close – which Steve had needed after the flashback. Thinking about it, Steve now wondered how he hadn’t put together that Peter wasn’t human. The entire relationship had been so comfortable and natural that Steve had just felt like he’d found his place. A real home that he felt he’d lost when he realized he couldn’t find Bucky, who was his only family left, although the “winter soldier” wasn’t his kin by blood.
Sitting up, he went to pour himself a glass of bourbon. He wasn’t the biggest fan of it, but right now he felt he needed the slight burn of the alcohol. It wouldn’t get him drunk because of the effects of the serum, and now that he thought about it, Steve noticed Peter had never been drunk once when they’d shared a bottle, but the action itself would hopefully calm him down. He slowly drank the glass, raising it to his lips every few minutes so as not to drink it too fast and end up downing an entire bottle on his own. After half an hour, he looked back at his phone, not sure how to take the silence from his boyfriend. It had been an hour and still there wasn’t even a text from the wolf he’d grown to adore so much that he knew he loved him. Looking down at his glass and then back over at the phone, he set the empty tumbler down and moved to pick up the device, unlocking the screen and dialing the number he had saved in his contacts, but knew by heart all the same. He waited for a few rings before the voice on the other end of the line made him smile.
“Hello?” Peter’s voice is normal in most aspects, but Steve briefly wondered if there was a sadness there as well.
“Peter, hey.” the super soldier said, smiling lightly. “Uhm, I know I kind of left you out there-”
“It’s okay. I should have told you.” Peter answered, making Steve give a half-laugh.
“Yeah, well, you’re not the only one.” he assured, nodding although Peter couldn’t see it. “I was wondering if you could come over. We, uh, we should talk.” There’s silence for what feels like an hour before Peter’s voice answered him.
“You want to see me right now?” he asked, his tone either confused or nervous. Steve can’t read Peter’s voice very well over the phone. He really just wanted to hold Peter and tell him that it was okay.
“Well, yeah. I can even cook something if you want.”
“I don’t think cooking will be necessary, Steve.” Peter replied. “I can be there in a few minutes.”
“I’ll be here.” Steve promised. The line hangs up on Peter’s end and Steve wonders if maybe he should have said something more than that. Something that held more meaning to it. Something like I love you.
hey yall sam’s witty and sarcastic comments are definately a trait of his but its not his only personality trait,,,, sam has always openly shown as friendly and caring
most of yall only care about mcu so lets review:
sam right off the bat introduces himself to steve rogers. not captain america steve rogers, steve rogers the soldier. the man that fought for his country, showing understanding of the overbearing difference between life in war and life in civilazation. he tells us about how hes served, not once, but twice, as a pararescue. rescuing people.
he’s shown talking in the va, telling a group that the worst is behind, even if bad things are with them now, its going to get better. that together theyll figure it out and handle it all. the way he stands in front of the group, you can just see that he is listening to every word.
he meets steve again, talks his own loss, his own feelings of the loss (riley) and that he too, lost purpose at that point.
he meets steve, steve whose never been one to follow orders, steve who finds himself in a place with too many serects for his liking. steve who doesnt know what he would do without this kind of work though. sam tells him, he can do whatever he wants to do. he fully believes he can too
then steve shows up on his backdoor step with nat, covered in dirt and on the run and immediately lets them in, feeds them and wants to help out. he wants to get back in the action and what better way to do it then with captain america
by the drop of a hat sam signs up to start helping people again. he continues to help and help steve with bucky, the avengers and so much more.
dont even get me started on him in the comics
yeah sam not moving his seat up for bucky in civil war is funny and all, but theres so much more depth to him then just “comic relief”
Fandom: Teen Wolf Ships: Sterek, NoahxMelissa Plot: AU where the entire canon storyline is an elaborate reality created by a traumatized teenager and Derek and John [aka: Noah, because I refuse to change a name this far into a story] are struggling to bring said teenager back from the brink.
Chapter One; Lost “For while in grief, we are lost to the wishes of our hearts and minds.”
The drive is too quiet, with not enough noise but he has no will to turn on the radio. He sits still behind the wheel, watching the road around him as he heads to the building. It’s an hour from the station, but the man has done this enough in a year that he knows all the shortcuts and can get there in half an hour. Pulling in is always easy at first, and then he remembers why he’s here in the first place. Flashbacks run through his mind as he parks, and he has to sit and brace himself for the familiar scents that await him inside of the structure.
Wednesdays are difficult to stay calm and supportive after he clocks out.
Outside the massive building is trees. It’s chilly, but watching the leaves gives comfort as he looks up to the third floor and watches the fourth window from the left. He isn’t right there inside the room, but he knows what the sight will be. Whiskey colored hues will stare almost lifeless through the window, an aged and distant look in eyes once vibrant and full of life, promise and opportunity. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, the teen hardly ever moves anymore. The nurses have tried time and again to make him move, but eventually he just goes back to his bed to sit and stare out a window that had nothing but the preserve as scenery. He does still eat, but he has to be in his room. People being around him make the teen too anxious and panicky to eat properly. The thought makes the man’s heart drop every time as he gets out and closes the cruiser door, hitting the button that locks it.
Wednesdays are always hard for John Stilinski.
The state of the art hospital nestled just outside the small town of Beacon Hills is barely affordable on a sheriff’s salary, but John manages with the help of an unknown benefactor to his only child’s well-being. John doesn’t have to ask, because he knows who it is. If the circumstance were different, he would be yelling at the other male to leave them alone. But he doubted it would help keep the male away. John had accepted that and simply allows the help he had never asked for, but needs desperately. The generous but anonymous party and John left it at the fact that they never came at the same time and never spoke if need be. Walking into the building, he pauses at the front desk long enough to greet the woman behind the counter and get his visitor’s tag. Not that he needs it anymore. Every staff member in the building knows who John is by now, who he came to see and how long he stayed. They didn’t need the little blue and white tag with his name on it to say hello, or ask how he was holding up. Up the elevator and down the hall that has always seemed much longer than it actually is, he counts the steps to the destination. He pauses at the door, looking through the small window at the form of his seventeen year old son, Stiles, as the boy just sits on his bed and stares out the window as if he were alone. Just as he did almost twenty-four hours a day.
“Hello John, it’s good to see you again.” a familiar voice says, and the sheriff is pulled from his mind as he turns to see a dark haired woman with a sad smile. John manages a smile at her before he motions his head at the door.
“How’s he doing, Melissa?” he inquires.
Melissa sighs and shakes her head. “I’m not sure. He’s not letting anyone in. His psychiatrist is having trouble getting in, but he’s making slow progress.”
“Doctor Le Salle said it would take time.” The sheriff briefly stops as a look crosses the nurse’s face and he frowns. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Melissa, what’s wrong?” John insists, not dropping the moment. He can read just about every nurse in the hospital at this point, so why the woman tries to hide it is a bit disconcerting for the officer.
“Doctor Le Salle is leaving, and he’s the only one willing to take Stiles.” Melissa explains softly, a heavy sigh escaping her as she looks down, almost defeated. “I’ve been trying to find someone to take him when the doctor leaves, John, I swear. Stiles is like a second son to me.” The pain in her eyes is a blow John still finds painful every time they talk.
“I know he is. It just…” the man paused and looked through the window. “It hurts seeing him in so much pain.”
Melissa nodded, looking towards the door. There’s a brief moment of anger that John will always feel guilty for, before it’s replaced with a guilty kind of sympathy from the woman. John makes no mention of it because the subject he knows crosses Melissa’s mind is one neither of them have coped with yet. “He should let you in. He lets people he knows in the room.” the nurse says calmly.
“Knows?” John asks, looking back at the woman. When Melissa nods, he wants to ask more, inquire what it is she means, but knows he shouldn’t; that the answer would hurt more than wondering ever could. As the woman walks away, John watches her, murmuring an apology that gets a simple ‘I know’ as she goes to finish her rounds. Taking a slow, deep breath, he moves to knock on the door, opening it slowly as he steps inside. “Stiles?” he asks in a soft tone.
At first, there’s nothing. John begins to wonder if his son is lost forever in whatever reality is in his mind when the boy moves and his head is turning towards him. A smile lights up his face when he sees who stands at the door. “Dad!” the teen says happily, moving out of his chair and going to sit on the full-sized bed provided by the hospital. John can remember when the doctors told him that Stiles moved so much in his sleep the boy needed the larger bed. When the teen goes to pat on the bed, John pulls up the second chair and sits down in it, watching as Stiles leans over to the desk and pulls out a chess board. The wood is old, worn and a few scratches carve the surface of it, but the marble of the board itself is still pristine. Stiles slides open the top and pulls out the pieces, setting them up. “I’ve been practicing. I’m getting better.” he promised, not looking up. “How long are you here?”
“Two hours, unless something urgent happens and they need me.” John answered, smiling as he leans in to move his pawn. Time goes in a haze for John. He doesn’t get much time at all with Stiles these days, just two hours a week because of his career and Stiles’ having to stay in the hospital to be watched. They play four or five games, Stiles winning a few, when John checks the time. Just fifteen minutes left and he’ll be leaving. The thought makes his chest hurt, but he has to be back in time to eat and get some sleep before his shift starts at four the next morning. He’s moving to play his rook when Stiles asks the question.
“When is Scott coming to visit?”
John looks up, fighting the tears threatening his control. “Maybe next time, Stiles. Things are rough, he’s been working a lot.” It’s a lie, but John has learned that the truth makes his son fly into a panicked rage and the teen has to be sedated before the two hours are up. So the man plays along, unable to ruin what little time he has left with his son.
“I hope he comes soon. We’re supposed to watch Star Wars. He promised.” Stiles says, his tone almost thoughtfully absent from the real world, and John knows his time window is closing before Stiles is once more at the window staring out at the rarely changing woods. Honey eyes look up at the sheriff and the teen gives a smile. “You’ll bring my copies, right, Dad? So we don’t have to rent them?”
John nods, forcing a smile at how happy Stiles seems to be, but knowing the trauma that causes this event to occur isn’t likely to go away. “Yeah, I’ll bring them. Would you like me to bring your laptop?” his voice is having trouble staying even as he asks, but he manages to keep it steady through the words.
“Nurses won’t let me have it. They say the cord is a health risk. Which is kind of stupid, because there’s no reason for a cord to be dangerous unless you try to cut through it with all metal scissors or something.” Stiles moves his king and John glances down, thirty seconds. Reaching out, the sheriff plays to check-mate and sighs.
“It’s time for me to go, Stiles.” he announces, moving to stand.
“I wish you could stay, Dad.” Stiles murmurs, sighing sadly, the tone growing more distant. He moves to crawl off the bed, getting up to hug his dad tight. “You just don’t die on me, too, okay? I can’t lose anyone else.”
John has to close his eyes as he clings to his son for the remaining fifteen seconds of their time together, nodding. The words are the closest to reality that John ever seems t receive from Stiles anymore, and it hurts to think that he has really lost his only child to trauma. “I won’t, son. I’ll be back.” he promises, and he knows the one thing keeping him alive at work when things get messy is the fact that he has a son to take care of. As he releases the teen and heads for the door, Stiles is putting up the game. The man pauses as he shuts the door behind him, watching as Stiles sets the wooden box down and slowly, as if too preoccupied to finish putting up the game to sit in the chair and tuck his legs up under him. John goes back in, finishes putting up the game as quietly as possible, and is placing the king in the wood when he notices a name etched into the bottom of the inside compartment. John feels a brief moment of release from the heart-wrenching pain of seeing his son fade out again and finishes putting the game on the desk, leaving the room and going to the family waiting area, where he sits.
For ten minutes, he sits with his head in his hands, wondering how he had messed up so much that he had lost his son. But at last, the memory of the etched name comes to him and he rights himself. Reaching into his shirt, he pulls out his phone and unlocks the screen, scrolling through contacts until he finds what it is he’s looking for. He calls it, knowing this is so far from the norm. But he has to try this, for his son’s sanity, in the most literal of senses. A few rings later and a voice comes on the other side of the line. As soon as John hears it, he can’t repress the slight, hopeful curve of his lips. “Derek. We need to talk.”
Clint’s Verses
Main [ I see better from a distance;; main Clint ]
Clint lost 80% of his hearing after being too close to an explosion. He’s learned how to read lips and sign, but for the most part he doesn’t sign unless absolutely necessary. He doesn’t tell people about his disability, and he uses a small hearing aid when he’s at major functions, but he’s generally used to the quiet most of the time. He’s recovering from Civil War while trying to find a new kind of life for him.
Angel [ wings aren’t just in the name;; angel Clint ]
Clint’s been an angel for centuries, sent to live out life every so often while still protecting people and doing what’s right. Wings of a silvery white cascade down his back in silky layers, the full width amazing and strong. His SHIELD codename gives him a unique sense of humor, because not many people know just how close to accurate the term is. But there are more to his wings than the name.
Cybernetic Enhancement [ still not used to normal;; cyberbetically enhanced Clint ]
This verse is the same as the first, only Clint has been given an enhancement from Tony that allows him 100% use of his hearing again.
IMF [ neither deny nor confirm without the secretary’s permission;; IMF Clint ]
Clint gave up his identity as Clint Barton for the identity of William Brandt and joined a sanctioned group of elite spies knows as the IMF – and he’s the liason as much as an active member.
Wolf [ howling moonfall;; wolf Clint ]
After a mission gone wrong in Russia, Clint was bitten and what started as an infection cleared and for a while Clint thought he was fine. Until he turned into a large wolf so black he was almost purple. In the years since, he has learned his control and has assigned weekends during the full moons to keep everyone safe. His skills as a wolf only make him deadlier in combat and a much fiercer protector of his friends.
themusechronicles 