#mutant!verse

The Phoenix.

(*)

Name: Taylor Borelli

Job: FBI Agent

Status: Metahuman

Superhero Alias: The Phoenix

Power(s): Fire-bending, heat and fire immunity, lightning-bending

Cause of Powers: Particle Accelerator Explosion

Superhero Partner(s): The Flash, The Arrow

Superhero Team: Cisco Ramone, Caitlin Snow, Frank Hardy, Joe Hardy

"AHT!"

Pat's back to the pub's doors suddenly, palms up and outstretched; Ron behind the bar but tousled, like he'd been maneuvered into place by something and was being held there. Both men thinking the same thing at once- How the FUCK did we get here?! -but unlike Pat, Ron knew. He knew part of it at least, which is why he'd barked that order when the movement in front of and round him stilled into hands that clung and a body folded up and pressed into the backs of legs; stilled into a second where he could think.

To his credit, Pat didn't argue.

Man was gone soon as he'd come.

And Ron? Ron looked round at the aftermath of what'd been an explosion of all-out panic. Puzzle books, plates of nibbles and a whole pot of tea had gone flying when Boy, frit to hell by Pat's sudden arrival, all but bent time to get off his stool, round the bar and behind Ron within what couldn't have been more than two seconds flat. He looked and saw and he listened too, to what he could catch beyond the silence that'd descended on the room when adrenaline had burned the rest away.

The radio droned away about the sports scores.

The dishwasher sloshed softly away to his right.

And Boy...He could hear Boy breathing - erratic and spiked with panic but starting to settle just a touch as the tension in the air bled slowly away. Unsure if the lad would welcome comfort through contact, despite how he'd clung onto him, Ron didn't do what instinct nipped him to and reach down towards the nearest hand he could feel fisted in his clothes. He looked down instead at the too slender young man folded close at his back and mustered in the gentlest voice he could-

"S'alrigh' mate. I gottcha...'Ee's gone... Was jus' me mate Pat, bu' 'ee's gone."

Not for the first time since meeting Boy and Beth, Ron cast silent not quite thanks but also sort of appreciation to how his mental condition made emoting tricky. It let him hide again how much anger he felt at whatever cunt had hurt this young man tucked behind him so badly that sight of a new face could do...this.

The warmth and colour in the laughter that escapes Ron's lips as the blue eyed Boy coughs back his pint is as rare as it is full of fondness for the once flighty, now inches more settled lad and his sister-shadow both. There's no teasing or malice in the sound, only lived experience's empathy and the amusement that caused. Every man living who'd first supped a pint had made the same mistake - straight in, no regards for froth and foam. Seeing Boy live that moment warmed Ron's bones.

"Careful there!" he laughed, a hand reaching towards but not touching the young man. It was an I've got you without the words behind it, extended just in case the glass needed to disappear double-quick; like all threats to the comforts of this pair did these days. When no such threat appeared though Ron relaxed. He sipped from his own glass - brown ale, just a half - before setting it down on the bar top and carrying on with his thought.

"It'll bite yah back if y'don't take it by surprise."

The smile round the words is as rare as the laughter before it, and it settles just as quick as the noise wisps out of Ron's voice. It's his usual, even tones that catch round the, "Hm?" Boy's attention on the bottles behind him nudges loose. He turns slightly, follows the young lad's gaze-

"Captain Morgan's"

-and names the bevvy he seems fixed on before falling back into Publican-ese. "S'a good tipple, tha'n. Low t'mid-shelf, a serviceable rum - one I don't mind cuttin' wiv a mixah." There were some shorts you just didn't request that done to, period. Morgan's though? Y'd not get hauled out for asking for coke over that. "S'got caramel, oak 'n dark brahn sugah notes in its flavour 'n--"

A pause.

A blink.

Headcanon Meme

There're a panoply of things that bring Ron joy - the company of loved ones; spending time with his dogs; early morning frost; late evening warmth on a summer's eve; the taste of a perfectly made Gin & Tonic; the atmosphere in the pub when a cup final was on the telly. But the one that springs to mind easiest now is different to those; not better but especially, especially meaningful. It was how Billy, still fragile for lack of weight on a too rangy frame, still unsure but trusting enough now, edged over to him of a morning as he was reading the day's broadsheet and quietly asked if they could do a puzzle together.

The trust that that took--

The bravery in the young man's bones--

@morethanchaosvictors asked “rough touch” and got 25: Your muse pins mine onto the ground

She’d miscalculated. She knew Chaos was stronger that Martin, but she hadn’t anticipated how much faster he was. He had launched himself at her, and she felt the wind knocked out of her as she hit the floor with him on top of her, pinning her down. She could feel his weight on her shoulders, but her hands were free, which was the most important thing.

Mutant!Verse

Zora is born to two middle class parents who knew she was different from the day she was born. At age four, she burned down the house during a tantrum and almost killed her parents. Her mother began keeping Zora in a small room in the basement where all she had was a fireproof blanket and another one used as a pillow. Zora would practice controlling her powers but sometimes it would become uncontrollable and she’d burn herself. These burns caused permanent damage to her arms and legs.

At fourteen, she gets in a fight with her mother about wanting to go to school. She sets the house on fire again, killing her mother. Since then she’s been on the run and presumed dead by police and her father.