1 - 20 of 32 Works by BattleAngel
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“Slaughter this, slaughter that,” the redhead parrots, rolling her eyes. “What are you, some angsty teenager?”
“Yes,” Kirito answers quietly, and Asuna flinches. “I am a teenager. I’m also a murderer. I feel I’ve earned the right to be a little…” his mouth twitches, “dramatic.”
The girl huffs, glancing down. “I suppose. But-“ her eyes swing upward, boring into him. “That’s not why you spoke up at the meeting today.”
“It isn’t,” Kirito agrees, looking away. “Truth be told, it would work perfectly,” he smiles grimly. “Too perfectly. The boss would simply seek out low-leveled players in the area of a seemingly-peaceful town. It would be a massacre.”
Asuna’s mouth hangs open for a moment before she snaps it shut. “Wh-“
“You didn’t think of that,” Kirito murmurs. “No one did. No one ever thinks about the children.”
“We’re children,” Asuna replies numbly, almost automatically.
“Don’t lie. It’s beneath you.”
—
Or; SAO makes monsters out of men.Series
- Part 2 of bloodied fingers ‘verse
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you wingless thing by BattleAngel
Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)
16 Apr 2024
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“When I was six,” he continues, twisting his gloved hands, “I was Quirk trafficked. Sold to a militia in Somalia. I was… there. When the black smoke took me.”
His throat scratches. This hurts. I’ll have to practice.
“And what is your Quirk?” the rat asks, eyes gleaming. Izuku shudders.
“It’s-“ he sighs. Clenches his jaw. “Don’t laugh.”
The rat says nothing.
“If I touch someone with my bare hands,” he whispers, “they turn into noodles.”
Complete.
Utter.
Silence.
“I’m sorry, they fucking what-“
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Or; Midoriya Izuku’s quirk is not amazing.
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“You should take him back,” Nomura cackles, closer, closer- “it would be a better fate than what lies ahead in the Darklands!”
A sudden roar behind him sends Nomura shrieking- she’d passed too close to a snake-hole and it was lunging out at her. She wheeled to it with a vicious snarl and he took the opportunity to run.
If she wasn’t lying- if she wasn’t lying-
“I’m so sorry, little buddy,” he whispers to the bundle clutched to his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
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Or; Jim isn’t close enough when they open Killahead, and Enrique doesn’t make it out.
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the grey memoranda stacked by BattleAngel
Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
19 Jan 2024
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The crispy-looking emo was loping over towards him, looking like he was trying to be casual, but he had a gleam in his eye that Izuku didn’t like.
“So,” the man says, “what happened to your arm?”
Ah, Izuku recognizes that. It’s a Fanboy Look. That needs to be dispelled as soon as possible.
“Stuck it down the garbage disposal,” he replies blandly. The man chokes a little. “I was mad at Player One and he doesn’t like it when I hurt myself, so I just shoved my whole arm in there. Quick and efficient way to lose a lot of blood, lemme tell you. Got some on the ceiling. Then when I woke up I drank an entire bottle of cheap tequila and felt sorry for myself.”
The man (Dabi, he said?) stares at him, openmouthed.
“Also, I’m only fourteen, and I’ve had enough of sex for at least a year, so don’t try anything. I’ll break your kneecaps.”
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Or: Midoriya is drafted into the League of Villains, and it could have been worse. Probably. -
days of sparta by BattleAngel
Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
04 Dec 2023
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“Shut up,” he mutters, “you’re not real.”
“That’s not a good sign,” a dry voice remarks, and Izuku’s got his back to a wall and his hands in front of his eyes before he even thinks about it. “Nice reflexes, but can they make up for the fact that you’re apparently hearing voices?”
“Who are you,” Izuku growls, not lowering his fists as his useless eyes rove over the room, searching for a person-shaped outline. “Why are you here? Where’s Tom?”
“My name is Aizawa Shouta,” the man replies, stepping out of a side door. He’s tall, pale, and dressed in all black with black hair hanging lank around his shoulders. The blurred mush of his finer details looks bored. “You can’t see me, can you?”
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Or; Midoriya Izuku spends four years as a fighter pilot in another dimension before sacrificing his life for the good of the cause and waking up in Japan. Needless to say, the ensuing school year at UA doesn't go as smoothly as Aizawa Shouta might have liked. -
just a symptom by BattleAngel
Fandoms: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
03 Dec 2023
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Annabeth had sat him down and explained that good humans didn’t smile when they killed things. Annabeth had always been sympathetic to his oddities- his little quirks. Child of the Big Three, right? Punk skater kids who could raze the earth and salt the ashes if allowed to live long enough- but he was worse. Everything had tried to kill him-
Everything-
But it had backfired and now he was just very good at killing everything else. Was that how this was supposed to go?
He distantly remembers being scared of this. Of reading a book with a flashlight under the covers, of watching the words twist before his eyes and catching his lip between his teeth because his dad made him this way. But he met Tyson- he met Tyson and maybe it was okay.
Maybe it was okay his blood flecked with something else.
Is it okay that he’s not afraid of it anymore? It feels like destiny. Fate. It feels inevitable.
--
Or: Poseidon is the Father of Monsters. Tartarus is Percy Jackson's final push.
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One last little boot plants itself in Jason’s kidney before someone pulls him back. Jason lifts his head, looking around blearily. He’s sprawled loosely on the mat and Damian is being held back by Dick, wide teal eyes wild.
“Weak!” Damian crows, nearly dancing as Dick struggles to hold him. “Weak, weak, weak!”
Jason laughs quietly, flopping back against the mat and smiling grimly. “Vicious little thing,” he cooes, blood dribbling from his lips as he looks up at Damian’s gleeful smirk.
Damian’s face twists into a confused scowl, but Jason only grins. Damian’s not afraid. He’s not afraid of Jason, he’s not afraid of anyone.
In the long run, that’s probably bad. But damn if Jason isn’t proud as hell.
He lets a chuckle bubble out of his chest, and blood follows it, crawling its way up his throat.
The taste of copper lingers on his tongue long after his bike’s spun out of the Manor’s gravel drive.
--
Or: Jason Todd-Wayne has a son who hates him.
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archaic kinds of fun by BattleAngel
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League Dark: Apokolips War (2020)
06 Aug 2022
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Damian’s fist tightens. “Oh, so now you’re not the type to charge in guns blazing?” he snaps. “What changed, hah? What clipped the big bad Red Hood's win-”
Drake lets out a soft moan of pain and Todd twitches toward him, unclouded teal eye flickering between Damian and Drake’s unconscious form.
“Ah,” Damian exhales, and although the notion is nearly unthinkable when applied to the Todd he knew, well.
How can he say he knows his brother well enough to discount this?
“He’s going to die either way, you know,” Damian says softly, and Jason snorts and turns away.
"Not if I have anything to say about it."
--
Or; Jason can either save the world or watch his partner die.
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The whole caped community has one thing in common with the villains and that’s that they know the Bats are a cult. Specifics are lost in translation, but the whispers of the underground can’t be ignored.
They know something happens, when a Robin steps down and another takes his place, his predecessor taking a new moniker and joining the shadows of Batman’s cowl. They know something happens, to turn someone ordinary into the sort of fighting machine that can stand against Superman.
There are rumors of operations, of surgeries and drugs, but they’re quickly discredited.
No, if there’s anything they know for certain about the Bats it’s that every last one of those masked faces is human, and all the more terrifying for it.
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Or; being Robin doesn't just mean a costume.
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Three Part Harmonies by BattleAngel
Fandoms: Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies), Jurassic Park - All Media Types
11 Jun 2022
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The mountain air is cold and clear, and Owen points out every plant Maisie sees, knows every bird call that rings out through the forest. When their walks take them to one of the bluffs and there’s nothing in front of them but a sheer drop, the two of them look out over the valley and the mountains rising up around them, pushing up towards the gray sky with clouds wreathed around their peaks.
Some days, flyers will swoop by, or they’ll catch sight of a flock in the distance. It takes a long time for Maisie to stop flinching at their far-off caws, the throaty shrieks that the pteredons and their distant cousins scream through the air.
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Or; a little glimpse of those four years before the real world came crashing in.
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Tucker purses his lips. Danny has gained a reputation for sleeping in class, for being impossible to wake unless one of his friends is the one shaking him. There was only one class Danny had without either Sam or Tucker, and the single time he’d ‘fallen asleep’ in that class was the beginning of one of many Incidents, although this was more traumatizing than others.
It was at the beginning of this ordeal, when Danny had been falling out of his body left and right. When a teacher had tried to wake the teen and his limp body had flopped to the side, and his head had lolled. He’d slid out of his chair, legs crumpling and twisting on the tile, eyes falling open, unseeing and blank, lips barely parting with not a hint of an exhale even as his head knocked against the corner of the seat.
The teacher had screamed. She’d thought he was dead.
Ha. If only.
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Or; Going ghost doesn't mean a transformation, it means an exorcism. And going back isn't nearly as easy.
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There is a single thought in Guts’ head and that is fuck, because he’s staring at a gobsmacked version of himself circa-Band of the Hawk. Casca is behind him and the maybe-Griffith is slumped behind other-Guts, sprawled in unconsciousness that he’s not entirely certain would be possible if that was Femto.
The brand is prickling with the soft insistence that there’s a behelit nearby, but no spirits. Certainly not the stabbing pain that accompanies any sort of proximity to a member of the Godhand. There’s only one explanation, then. Time travel, Guts decides, nodding decisively.
“Right then,” he rumbles. “The Crimson Behelit. Hand it over.”
“Hah?” Other-Guts gawks. “Wh-”
“Griffith’s creepy little eyeball necklace, cough it up!”
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Or; Guts and Casca get snatched off Roderick's ship and tossed back in time to the first fight with Nosferatu Zodd. -
just one more time by BattleAngel
Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
22 Feb 2022
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Toshinori chuckles. “Nice to meet you, young Tenko,” he holds his hand out, but Tenko glares down at it stubbornly.
“I don’t shake,” he mutters, and Izuku scowls, elbowing his friend.
“You’re being rude!” he chides, and Tenko rolls his eyes before delicately shaking Toshinori’s hand, holding it with two fingers like it’s some kind of dead animal. “Sorry. Tenko’s got a thing about hands.”
--
Or; Izuku and Co. land a sweet gig playing classy music on an unsinkable ship. -
Drink It to the Bitter End by BattleAngel
Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
18 Feb 2022
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Shouta Aizawa thinks there’s something off about Midoriya Izuku. He’s been thinking that since he saw the boy in his classroom, hunched over a seat, making himself as small as possible. Elbows tucked in close, calloused knuckles, and darting eyes.A crooked nose, the kind of odd, subtle little twist that gives the boy’s large green eyes a quirky flare. The kind of nose that was broken one too many times and hadn’t been set properly often enough.
That was not the behavior of someone with a ridiculously overpowered Quirk. That was especially not the behavior he’d seen during the exam footage, the footage of a green-haired teenager who was flashy and open and seemed to radiate power.
Illogical.
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Or: Midoriya gets into vigilantism a little too early, with a Quirk more like his uncle's than his father's, and, frankly, half the time he's just along for the ride.
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“Calm down, Daniel. You're overreacting,” Vlad cooes, watching the fetus' rapid development with hungry eyes. White hair begins to feather its head, the exact same shade as Phantom’s. “A female,” the elder halfa announces, squinting at the readouts. “Congratulations. It’s a girl.”
“Please,” Danny whimpers, eyes fixed on the little girl (his little girl, his little girl) curled in the vat of ectoplasm. A cry slips from his throat when she jerks, convulsions rippling across her tiny form. “No!” he cries, seeming to have forgotten Vlad’s presence as he jerks on the cuffs. “No, baby please, baby please-”
“Adjusting the output,” Vlad mutters, fiddling with the switches. “This is the final stage, it’s going to work, it’s working-”
--
Or: Danny Phantom was not prepared to be a teen dad, but like hell was he leaving his infant daughter to fend for herself.
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Hits Fall in Staccato by BattleAngel
Fandoms: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
30 Dec 2021
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Ed was stuck at this table with this toad and he was empathetically not pleased. The pink thing was simpering at him, making pointed comments about his intelligence and breeding. Ed would have strangled the bitch if he hadn’t already given his bodily control over to Truth as soon as he’d sat down.
(Truth had a thing about getting to pick what food they wanted at lunch, something about getting the full experience, and Ed was, for once, glad he’d obliged because Truth’s neutral continence was the only thing keeping his limbs steady.)
“Of course,” she said sweetly, “If I was the teenage professor of a useless branch of washed-out magic, I suppose my qualifications wouldn’t have to be very high either, would they?”
And their fork snapped in half.
“What,” Truth breathed with Ed’s mouth, no accent at all, “did you just call my subject?”
--
Edward Elric bodyshares with an eldritch horror and reluctantly agrees to teach alchemy to ickle snot-nosed wizards. Naturally, it's a disaster.
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Bird wakes up groggily to the unmistakable sound of the little hound scarfing down something squelchy. He wrinkles his nose at the matted silver hair brushing his jaw as he sits up, blinking blearily at Hatake’s hunched figure straddling his chest, clawed hands smeared with old blood as the preteen looks up at his unimpressed glare with wide eyes.
“Bird’s off-limits,” Hatake huffs around a mouthful of Bird’s dog treats. “Don’t like the shocker, no thank you. Treats are good, though. Hound likes treats.”
“I’ll bet Hound does,” Bird grumbles, wriggling out from under Hatake’s stick-thin frame, wincing as the movement pulls at the burn on his back.
Hound whines from his place sprawled in the underbrush, licking his chops and staring greedily at Bird’s pack.
“Hound is still hungry,” Hatake murmurs, eyes fixed on the pack, and Bird narrows his eyes, dragging the pack a little closer.
--
Or; Shimura Danzo enjoys traumatizing small children, and then sending them to new dimensions. This turns out about as well as you'd expect. -
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Contrary to Brooklands' gossip mill, Alex is not, in fact, on crack. Drugs leave you in an incredibly vulnerable state, and Alex doesn’t have time for that. Or the funds, frankly.
But he is more distracted than usual, and after a long day of pretending not to be hopelessly lost in his classes and trying to avoid Tom’s concerned eyes, he ducks into a nondescript black sedan that lingers in front of the school.
He wouldn’t have gone anywhere near the sedan if he hadn’t already matched the profile of the driver in the front seat to that of his usual warden, or if the license plate had been different. But the driver and plate were the same, so Alex slides into the backseat with only a keen awareness of the SIG-Sauer P228 in his side holster rather than his finger on the safety.
After a long journey fighting its way through London traffic, the car pulls up in front of the Royal and General Bank. Today is a mission day.
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Or: Alex Rider is stretched a bit too thin.
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“When your greatest blessing goes too far with his alchemies, he shall fall into eternal sleep,” the glow-person says, with a wicked too-wide grin, “and the whole of your kingdom with him, only to be broken by a kiss!”
Ed- Ed knows what that means. This figure has just pushed a curse onto- onto Hohenheim’s greatest blessing. His father’s greatest blessing. Male- not the kingdom- has to be a person- not Ed, certainly-
Then-
Then they mean-
“You leave my little brother alone!” Ed shrieks, with all the fury of a five-year-old, running at the cloaked figure full-speed only to plow into a stone wall that rose up out of the Hall’s sandstone.
The figure laughs. “Fierce little dragon. What a good protector you are,” they croon. “Not good enough, though.” And the intruder claps, once, and disappears in a flash of malevolent violet light.
--
Or; Al is a damsel in distress, Ed is a dragon, Mustang is a bit confused as to who he’s supposed to be kissing, and Truth was not invited to the party.
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(Hatake Kakashi has more than just dog-teeth separating him from native Konohans. An acute sense of smell fills his head with his students’ individual scents, and irrepressible instincts nudge against his limbs, whispering keep moving, keep moving, crooning over the pups he’d caved and stolen right out from under their guardians’ noses.
Mine, mine, mine, his blood murmurs, and Kakashi’s hold tightens around the infant cradled against his chest.)
--
Or; how Hatake Kakashi gets stuck in an alternate dimension and aggressively adopts Team Seven, with surprisingly positive results.