angerissue

[angerissue]

Yeah, so I posted this on my personal blog already and I'm posting it here too. Recent events consisting of health issues and harassment, along with my recollections of what other people have been through lately on this website, have made me rethink my priorities. I'm going to be stepping back from tumblr.

I'll move my fics to AO3. I'm still deciding what to do about my collaborative writing and all the threads and headcanons.

Honestly, leaving has been on my mind for a while. But the absolute bullshit behaviour I've seen demonstrated towards me, and so many other people, has made me seriously question why I'm still here. I've never posted anything controversial. I've never intentionally tried to hurt people, or spread bad ideologies. I'm a conscientious person of what I think is good moral fiber. But holy fucking shitballs, what has happened to this website? The last few years on this site have been atrocious with all the harassment, the dogpiling, and the other shit where people derive, frankly, a scary amount of joy and amusement from attacking others like it's some kind of entertainment.

People have discovered that if you want attention here, you can do it quickly by fabricating "outrage porn" and dragging someone through the mud. People will believe it without hesitation, because they are so angry about what they are being told, they don't stop to think. People really eat up the "us versus them" mentality, especially when it allows them to feel like a part of a group, and when it gives them a purpose in harassing and/or getting rid of people who are designed to not be in that group. It's especially insidious because all of this harassment seems to be rationalized and justified by the groups participating in them. It's all in the name of this-or-that, it's just moral crusades, just socially-acceptable bullying and/or death wishes with a fresh coat of paint to appeal to a younger crowd. Because it really does seem like a vast majority of the people doing this stuff are in their early twenties or in their teens.

I really do understand why other people have left this website - it is such a buzzkill to feel like you're swimming in a shark tank. I have no desire left to share my work in a place like this. Why make content for a website where its users are so quick to steamroll others, for a quick laugh, no matter how vanilla the content? Why put in the effort to get suspicion; why put in the effort when it feels like I'm just rewarding a Bad Thing, at least to a sizable extent?

Like, I've been posting in the Bruce Banner tag since The Avengers came out. I've been here since many of those popular ship tags were literally empty. And despite the positive reception and complete lack of criticism, despite the masses of people who liked my content, I'm completely unmotivated to post things there now. Last year, there was an isolated incident with fanpols and moral panic people, where one person went out of their way to post some untagged ship hate in the Bruce Banner tag, and after I told them to tag it, they spent three hours scouring my blog for ways to retaliate (and it seems they still haven't blocked me). It was a textbook case of, "lol, let's point and laugh and tell someone they're better off dead because they write a character yet don't incorporate my own headcanons, let's call them [a dozen different types of bigot without due cause]." Predictably, none of their followers reached out and actually inquired about what they saw in the person's smear campaign (all the "damning" screenshots they posted of my blog were headcanons for Bruce Banner, none of which were any indication of personal views and were easily chalked up to either bad wording, ignorance, or literally just nothing because they were reaching farther than Elastigirl to find shit, and upon later inspection, it appeared they even shared many of the same personal headcanons they had harassed me for, which... Eugh). Nobody asked for clarification. They were told what to feel, which was outraged and vitriolic, and they clamoured. Guess what happened when I woke up, saw all this, and blocked everyone because I wasn't having that shit? "Lmaoo they must have blocked me because of my gay ships lmao what a homophobe".

I just. What.

How are people okay with saying this kind of stuff. Like, my brother in christ, you were blocked because you were a twatwaffle, a participant in an outrage porn dogpile. I have dozens of Bruce Banner versions in my headworld, and a shit ton of headcanons of both Bruce and other characters that run the entire gamut of sexuality and orientation; I'm literally a trans person with gay ships; the first ship I ever made fanart of was Cherik, for crying out loud, and two of my favourite ships have always been BrucexLoki and BrucexTony. You are not as accurate as you think you are. Not at all. Get off your high horse before you fall off, it's made of playing cards.

Oh, but I guess it's "funny". I guess it's okay to throw around loaded terms in that case.

Some of this stuff genuinely was funny to me. Because this person had literally scoured my entire blog (and when I'm saying "entire", I mean they went through every page, every post, every single bullet point in my extended reading portal, and there's a load of content in there, folks, and all their visits were recorded in my statcounter so it was pretty easy to see they had spent three hours on there looking for "bad stuff"), found one line in a headcanon that said (in keeping with official canon) this specific Bruce tends to be most attracted to people of the same ethnicity... And they sent me an ask saying, I kid you not: "does Bruce hate black people".

What even. How does this compute. The ask couldn't even offend me if it tried at this point, it was hysterical because of the total quantum leap in logic. I had literally never posted anything else, not a single other line, about ethnicity in any sense, nor would I ever insinuate what they were claiming. It was just a line I threw in because, like most lines, it's nice to paint a more complete picture, and if you've ever seen my content and how outrageously exhaustive it can get, I love painting.

It was less funny when they used this single throwaway line to call me a racist.

But seriously - the entire harassment campaign was based around stupid shit like that, and funnily, it was all tacked onto the original ship hate post this person had originally posted, which was pretty much bait for attention in the first place. Some of the screencaps they took even had contents that directly contradicted what they were even trying to roast me over.

In the end, once they realized I'd blocked them, they dared me to, just about verbatim, "come back and defend this boring white bread man you created".

Sure. Boring. So boring they needed to read all my content for hours (which showed a huge inability to curate their content consumption like an adult), and so boring they stalked my blog for months after the fact and made fun of the fact I went to the ER for an unrelated health issue. It's just ridiculous, especially because if all this criticism about my headcanons had actually come from a place of reparation and not using me as entertainment fodder; if someone had actually talked to me about something that concerned them, I would have completely cooperated and taken the advice. Because I really don't want to be a dick on the internet, I actively look for edification, and I really do want as best as I can.

But I digress.

It's strange, because despite what happened with these clowns, it's not that I'm afraid to be here. I haven't been intimidated into keeping quiet. Rather, I simply have zero motivation to be here or contribute. And really, I'm just deeply disappointed in all the disgusting actions I've seen in this fandom and elsewhere on tumblr, the brazenness of it these last few years. I don't know what happened, but it was never this bad. And people don't deserve it. I've seen a lot worse than what I've received, and let me tell you. It is horrible. Content creators don't deserve to feel like they're playing Russian fucking roulette every time they post some new content, or be fearful that the wrong person will see their work and make a playdate out of harassing them for literally no reason. And on top of that, nope, tumblr just enables this bullshit and doesn't do a thing.

There have been three cases in the last, what, three years, where people I know were dragged severely for doing absolutely nothing wrong. For making boundaries known, for writing certain things, for not responding within a certain time frame. In all but one case, it was always the same ending; they left.

Participation in fandom should not be this stressful for anyone. It really makes me miss the 2012-2015 era, because while it certainly wasn't perfect back then, it was a lot better than nowadays, with all the renewed moral panic shit that is doing nothing of value. It's just carpet-bombing the userbase, and disincentivizing people to make new things, any new things. If there isn't something obvious for the impassioned bully to hit, or something they can manipulate, they'll just make shit up on the spot. Want to guess how many people of good character have been ousted from the Marvel fandom alone since, say, even 2018? Well, I don't have the numbers, but I'm sure they're substantial.

It just kind of sucks, because I've written this version of Bruce here for over twelve years. And seriously, I have never seen anyone take issue with my headcanons until the harassment last year. I'm pretty careful about what I write, so naturally with the harassment aside, I did review all the headcanons I had written, but after that, and after getting the opinions of a few trusted friends (which I am so grateful for), there wasn't... Anything to fix. They were just headcanons. Not only was this harassment limited to the last year or two, but almost all of the harassment my friends have received has been within the last couple of years, too. Like, alarm bells should be going off there, because wow. Especially when I also consider how much harassment has happened to people outside of my friend group. Especially when I consider how commonplace it has become to throw around shit like "kys" or "I wish you died in the ER" to people you don't like. Especially because it seems like it's just getting worse and worse. I'm seeing this kind of shit in casual posts now, not even directed to anyone. "Go kill yourself". I can open ten carrds, and five of them will have "swallow a knife :) :)" or something in them.

Is it a wonder there are so few content creators here now? Especially fandom olds?

So yeah. I'm out.

If you're a genuinely good person who doesn't make a pastime out of harassing people, and if you ever recall seeing my stuff in the tag and enjoying it, be it my gifsets, my headcanons, or my fics, thank you for that.

If anyone here wants my AO3 or discord, send me a message.

Toodles.

[angerissue]

Walked inside your place tonight, it's not where I should be Besides, the circumstances lead me straight to sleep Sleep, at times, it can decide if I should stay or leave Realize it's not the time Try to get to—

Then reality catches up with me There's no remedy for what I need To be...

Take the time it takes To find a way to make me feel alive It helps sometimes, but it will never really matter coming from me Besides, I'm wasting time away

Then reality Catches up with me There's no remedy For what I need To be...

[angerissue]

Share my cup, tie me up Never apart, break my heart

Go to sleep, wound me deep Be at peace, make me bleed

Do no harm, twist my arm Lie with grace, smash my face

Kiss the ground, track me down Stop the noise, smash my toys

How does it feel without your drugs? Sing you a lullaby How does it feel without my love? Sing you a lullaby

[angerissue]

Six months before the battle of Sokovia, Bruce had sought professional help for his PTSD, but then he was retraumatized during a routine mission with the Avengers. In consequence, his body started to reject his normal form in favour of his transformed one, which caused discomfort whenever he was in his normal form. He felt tense and off, like he was in the wrong skin, and he began favouring his transformed state. This drew the concern of Natasha Romanoff, who discovered a method to help him revert without discomfort. She called it the "lullaby".

During the lullaby, Natasha rested her hand against Bruce's own, and she spoke softly and quietly to him. This made him feel more relaxed, and therefore more comfortable and willing to revert.

🚨 This post discusses gender biases associated with abuse and trauma.

�� Please do not reblog this post.

I. Why Natasha Romanoff?

Among Bruce's teammates, Natasha was the only person who could perform the lullaby on him. This wasn't because he liked or loved her, though. He appreciated her as a teammate and found her amicable, but if Bruce liking someone was the only requirement for the lullaby, it would have worked with his other teammates too, and this was not the case. Rather, Bruce has always been more comfortable around people who present as women, especially when it comes to conflicts and confrontations. His father was abusive, and confrontations with him never ended soundly, so Bruce becomes uncomfortable during disagreements with other men now. There's an internalized association with Brian's abuse. This intensifies when he's in a transformed state. When he initially refused to revert and his teammates tried reasoning with him, he was hostile to everyone but Natasha, partly because of the above association. Natasha’s behaviour was another reason for Bruce's favourable response. She'd been observing him and noticed he wasn't receptive to his other teammates, so she tried a drastically different approach that was calmer and way more passive, using her knack for psychological manipulation to accomplish it without coming across as fraudulent. Natasha spoke quietly and encouragingly, and she reached out and made physical contact with Bruce as well, which his teammates had not done. It was a strategic move, and it paid off better than she expected. Bruce did not pull away or fight her, and he soon reverted. Unbeknownst to Natasha, when Bruce was still a boy, his mother often held his hand and spoke gently to comfort him, which Natasha had mirrored. Just like his other association, this association was stronger in his transformed state, too. Natasha understood her actions had been successful, and this became the lullaby.

II. Bruce’s Thoughts.

Bruce never considered the above reasons for the lullaby’s success, even after it was retired. Instead, he credited its success to Natasha merely being clever, and knowing enough tactics from her years of espionage (and interrogation) that she could easily find something that worked with him. Bruce never knew there was a personal component to it, or that it harkened back to his childhood, and he never knew other people would've reacted differently, and been more resistant to what she did. Despite the lullaby's success and convenience for both Bruce and the Avengers, Bruce had mixed feelings about it. He was appreciative of its existence, because it served an important purpose and it was even therapeutic in a sense, though he had always been an extremely self-reliant person, and the lullaby made it difficult not to feel dependent on Natasha. He was frustrated that he was losing control of his body in the first place too, moreso because it reminded him of the issues he'd previously had with his condition. There was a lot of uncertainty. The lullaby was indeed useful in the moment, but he dreaded the thought of needing it down the road. Bruce's reversion issues were ultimately a result of his PTSD relapse, which was successfully treated with medication once he returned from Fiji. Bruce had not considered medication before this, because his discomfort was exclusive to his normal form and didn't affect his transformed state, so he believed the problem was directly related to his condition, rather than his mental health. He had been very confident in his recovery up to that point, and even after the last disastrous mission, he never thought it was significant enough to impede him that much. If he'd asked his teammates for input, especially Tony, who also had PTSD, he may have gained more perspective, but he was reticent about his personal issues and never bothered.

III. The Lullaby Nowadays.

Natasha Romanoff is no longer around in Bruce's most recent verse, because she had died during the team's search for the infinity stones. However, if she were still around, the lullaby probably wouldn't work anymore. There was a moment during the battle of Sokovia where Bruce wanted to sit out the fight, because of certain concerns with his condition, but Natasha forced him to fight anyways. Bruce still respects Natasha as a tactical expert, and part of him understands why she used him like this, but her actions in Sokovia created new associations that counteract how the lullaby worked. Bruce never fully regained his trust in her, and this would render the lullaby ineffective now.

IV. Where was Hulk?

Simply put, Hulk was still a dormant and passive personality in the system. He couldn't front at the time, because he still hadn't developed enough for it. This finally happened during the Johannesburg incident, six months later, when the conditions were right. Not only was Bruce forced to relive his childhood trauma because of Wanda Maximoff's hex, but he transformed when this happened as well, a process that effectively puts him into a developmental state (which also put Hulk's own development back into the blender). Before the Johannesburg incident, Hulk was around in an imperceptible capacity, but he wouldn't have been able to front or influence Bruce.

Disclaimer: The content in this post is unique to this adaptation of Bruce Banner. Feel free to like, but please don’t reblog without permission.

[angerissue]

What Crystal Are You?

Quiz can be found here.

Bruce Banner: Blue Calcite.

Valuing emotional intelligence, you are good at calming those around you. You have a way of putting words to feelings others can't quite verbalize. You spend so much of your time nurturing others, expending energy in your efforts to keep a peaceful environment. You're often undervalued and unappreciated until people need something from you. When was the last time you spent as much energy on yourself as you do on everyone else?

Hulk: Snowflake Obsidian.

You are all grit and closed fists. You refuse to let anything through the cracks of your armor. You would burn the world to protect those you love. The heart of a warrior burns in your chest, but it also weighs your shoulders down. What is the price for being so strong? What have you sacrificed to make yourself feel safe? When was the last time you let someone see your soul? When was the last time you let someone see you and not just the masks you hide behind? Not everything must be a fight.

Tagging: @mynameisanakin​ @asgardianhammer​ @corxunum​ and everyone else who sees this!

[angerissue]

Anonymous asked... Your Bruce Banner is BRILLIANT. Click here to send me something!

Sorry for taking so long to respond to this! I've been going back and forth on what to say, because it was so nice to see this in my inbox, and I wanted to reply properly. I'm not an innately confident writer, and because of the chilly reception that adaptations like this usually get on tumblr, there are often occasions where I wonder if I'm writing Bruce well. Sometimes my assurance disappears. But messages like yours are super encouraging, so thank you.

I've been writing for a long time. I've had one or two things published, but nothing substantial, and certainly not novellas or novels. I remember when I first took a real interest in writing stories, and my characters were absolutely terrible, haha. My first original character was based on a book for young readers about dragons (who could assume human form) and people. In this book, there was a teen girl who had dragon wings. I can't remember the name of the book, but I used like 90% of the character's traits for my first OC, and I didn't really put much thought into it beyond this. Call it a product of me being ten years old, but the OC was goofy and corny, and my writing was beyond dramatic, holy smokes... But at least it formed a great foundation for what not to do, moving forward.

When I was in high school, I took an immediate liking to English class. Digging into media and writing essays was very enjoyable for me! Some of the material felt too simplistic, like a deeper meaning couldn't be derived from it, but I still really loved looking for metaphors and nuance in different texts, and devising different ways to present my findings, and sometimes bullshit them from scratch. I jumped headfirst into AP English soon after that. I particularly remember the assignments for Kafka's "The Metamorphosis", and Swift's "A Modest Proposal", which were pretty strange and surreal texts, but they were fascinating!

(That is the kind of literature I love to encounter. Things that are "out there", that make you think, that have something to say about certain topics, and that leave a lasting impression.)

During this time, I picked up a few other OCs, including some that were inspired by my lucid dreams and the film "Avatar" (2008). I also loved analyzing and discussing films that I'd watched, and I became more and more interested in "character study bait" films, including "Hunger" (2008), "Taxi Driver" (1976), and "American Psycho" (2000). The more focus that a film had on a character, the more I liked exploring it and looking for details. "Breaking Bad" was absolutely captivating to me because of all the colour palette and script choices. And certain characters jumped out at me as well, such as Jesse Pinkman, Wikus Van De Merwe, Tony Stark, and Jake Sulley, who all received varying amounts of attention in fics.

Bruce Banner was another character who really stood out, when I finally decided to give him a chance. My first exposure to him was "The Incredible Hulk" (2008), and even after that single film and its somewhat anemic script, I noticed there was a lot going on with him, and I wanted to explore it. It helped that he was a science fiction character too, because that is my favourite genre, and that I'd always been a sucker for werewolf and monster tropes. I hadn't even gotten into the comics yet or learned about his family life (that happened shortly before I graduated), but I was already so invested in him! And it snowballed from there.

I think it's the combination of my keen interest in Bruce and my love for analysis that has resulted in this portrayal. It's not everyone's cup of tea, but I like to think he's still recognizable, and he is very much the same character. He was simply given different options from canon, and he's developed accordingly. But he's never wandered too far from his roots. Everything about this portrayal can be traced back to something I've seen, somewhere, in canon.

I'm also deeply proud of my decision to make this portrayal exceptionally self-aware about the psychology of trauma. I put a very heavy emphasis on how trauma informs someone's decisions throughout their life, which canon has rarely bothered to dissect (the comics on occasion, and the Marvel Cinematic Universe only like, once). I've said it before, but Bruce is often depicted and handwaved as "yet another superhero" and is often dumped into the "superhero genre", which is conflated with formulaic, flashy popcorn flicks. I try to write him deeper than that, and more well-rounded. I've never been a fan of shying away from gritty, dark, or personal shit, because it can often be very revealing and insightful, especially for a character like Bruce. I also feel like this makes him a more accessible character to someone who doesn't necessarily like the MCU or Marvel. If all of the "bam, pow, superheroes and capes and high stakes" stuff takes a break, and the painfully human aspects can shine through more, it humanizes him that much more. I think that's part of the reason the television show and Ruffalo's performance in "The Avengers" was so well-received.

(But this is all just my opinion.)

So thanks again, anonymous! I'm really happy to hear you like the direction I've taken him.

I have many other messages in my inbox, including some old ask memes. I'm slowly working through them. Thanks for your patience, everyone.

[angerissue]

Anonymous asked... See, Thor's problem is that he thinks of you as a berserkr. Click here to send Bruce something. Don't let your dreams be dreams.

A berserker.

A crazed, furious man who went for broke in battle and didn't modulate his level of violence. And when all the fun and games were over, there was a hell of a scene to clean up.

Well, that wasn't the most unfounded analogy someone could use. Not if they were familiar with the past version of him and everything it entailed. Before he left West Bengal all those years ago and joined the Avengers, his grip over his condition had been tenuous and fickle, and it had earned him a notoriety as a loose cannon. His teammates had all referenced it at some point or other. Whether these references were blunt, critical, and meant to offend him, or clumsy attempts at deflection and appeasement, he had recognized every moment.

Is that the... Only word on me?

Only word I care about.

Bruce remembered his first interaction with Steve Rogers, and it bore mixed feelings in him. Much as he admired the man; had admired him since he was a pimple-faced kid trying to survive high school, Steve had only told him what he wanted to hear. He had only been trying to play nice. To put on a show and pretend not to care about the monster of a threat he posed, so he stood a chance of being passed over in the event of an unfortunate accident. It was a patently contrived answer where Bruce had been handled with kid gloves, and it made him more uncomfortable than if Steve had been frank with him.

Not that it hampered Bruce's opinion of Steve. He couldn't blame Steve for covering his ass or taking precautions, and he'd done enough for his country to warrant a free pass. But still, at least people like Tony had been honest from the get-go. It had been a breath of fresh air from the tiptoeing everyone else did around him, because he had never really gotten used to being treated like a glass animal.

Even after he corrected his condition, there had been speed bumps. Because of his enormous miscalculation in Paris and the ugly problem that resulted from that, his work with the team had briefly become a two-step gig where he made a mess, and the rest of the team played pick-up duty. There had been a lot of crabbing from his teammates, because that... Personal situation of his had been cumbersome to deal with, and it caused delays. Romanoff running around, chasing after him, that wasn’t fun for anyone.

He would own that.

And funny, because he did remember Thor mentioning the word "berserker" around that time. But it hadn't been meant as an insult; rather, it had been a key component in Thor's pitch to him about altered states of consciousness, which Viking berserkers had achieved in battle on account of ritualistic medicine. Bruce had concluded that it was some form of hallucinogen, but he hadn't asked for clarification. He remembered Thor's advice on how to induce identical states with analog substances more familiar to humans, which he'd utilized in the field, if not after some... Persistent convincing. He remembered the grandiose ramblings of Asgardian folklore that had come part and parcel with Thor's advice, too, and he'd always humoured it because once Thor was running his mouth, there wasn't much he could really do, frankly, to get him to shut up.

And Bruce had always figured that Thor was giving him a morale boost whenever the mention of berserkers came up, rather than having a go at him, the latter of which he was apparently supposed to believe now.

He didn't, of course. Sorry for not cozying up to that idea.

And pardon his skepticism, but the last time he checked, Thor's interactions with the rest of the team had been equally combative. Some had devolved into scuffles. Thor must have believed those teammates were formidable opponents who could take a spanking, too.

The discrepancy made Bruce snort.

"That would be credible," he said, "if he didn't see everyone that way. You know what happened when he met Steve? And Tony?"

He was pretty sure if someone flew over that mountainside, they would see evidence from where Thor had tried to beat up his future teammates. It would've been easy to tell something had happened from the grooves in the rock, if the trees that leaned away from an invisible epicenter didn't spell it out first. The expanse was remote and unimportant and it received little care from conservationists, so it would've remained damaged, even today.

There was the incident on the helicarrier, too. It hadn't been Bruce's finest moment, but he knew Thor wasn't on his best behaviour either, because amidst the static and the misplaced bits of memory in Bruce's head, he still remembered the gung-ho look on Thor's face.

On the bright side, if he remembered correctly, Thor hadn't blown a fuse since then.

...Oh.

In that case, Bruce suspected he'd jumped the gun with his retort. It seemed harsh in hindsight, selling his teammate as an irrevocably belligerent crackpot when he didn't have proof. His collaboration with the Avengers had ended months ago, and many of those memories had muddled together and become indistinguishable where timing went. Thor's early blunders seemed fresh in his mind, like they'd only just happened, but he knew it was cognitive trickery, which wouldn't surprise him. His rat's nest of a mind had a nasty habit of fooling him into senselessness. He doubted Thor would be so belligerent nowadays.

The evidence was in their shared habitations over the years. If Thor had ever wanted to barbeque him for stealing the last bagel from the plate, or the last toaster strudel from the package, scenarios that often happened because their rampant appetites had conflicted with each other (par for the course when many people with obscene food requirements lived under one roof), that desire had never come to fruition. If it had, Bruce would have remembered.

Vividly.

He shrugged. "I'll give him credit, though — he's outgrown most of his, ah... Rougher edges."

Bruce often had concerns about revisiting other memories, because he found them to be gravity wells of unhealthy ruminations. Those were downward spirals he didn't want to ride. But he didn't mind reminiscing about Thor. He'd found it fascinating to see the demigod mellow out over the years; to see the peaks and valleys of his warrior's temperament become less extreme, and for want of a better word, less exciting. To see him acclimate to different expectations. Bruce knew it hadn't been easy, because he'd been in a similar boat on Sakaar. He'd experienced culture shock, slack-jawed confusion, and all the mortifying mishaps where he'd offended everyone in earshot. He'd ruined sacred meals by using utensils. He'd interrupted someone's dead ancestor. Sorry, he'd drawn his sword on the unarmed. Sorry, he'd bumbled his oaths.

Sorry.

If Tony had been there, he would've told him to shut up.

Evidently, adapting came with growing pains. Yet Thor made it look easy. He gave Bruce a run for his money there, because whereas it had taken Bruce years to find and adopt a reliable skillset, Thor had absorbed everything like a sponge and put it into practice immediately. His ease and speed of acclimation was wholly enviable to the scientist.

Not that Thor had ever lost his spirit. Bruce was sure if he looked hard enough, he would find a hint of wild anger in Thor's eyes, or a set of hands where the knuckles were a bit too white. Bruce reckoned they had this in common. He still suffered the occasional slip of something more dramatic himself. Something unnatural and not conducive to keeping a low profile. Albeit Thor had outgrown the worst of his vices, just like he had outgrown the worst of his condition. Now if only he could outgrow himself.

That was trickier, much as Bruce hated to admit. He wasn’t exactly the only person at the dinner table anymore.

Unfortunately.

It was no coincidence that Bruce felt eyes on him, then. That same sharp surprise as anyone else who realized they were being watched.

Mood sobering, his gaze occluded over, and his brow pursed. His mouth was a thin line. A suspicion had budded in his mind, and it told him the conversation wasn't just about Thor and himself.

"Unless you... Mean the other guy."

If that was the case, then yeah. They had him there.

And Thor wasn't the only one who saw Hulk as a berserker — everyone on the team did. They saw Hulk as a threat, mainly because Hulk saw them as a threat, and while the chicken and egg scenario could have applied here, Bruce knew Hulk was the one who started it all, because everything had been peachy until the moment he showed up. Hulk was too quick to judge. Quick to react. He saw trouble in everything and the worst in everyone, and he was always looking for things to pick people apart over. If he had his way, Bruce knew he'd hitch a ride on the next shuttle off Earth and throw away the key. He was probably as happy as a pig in mud when the Illuminati kicked him off-planet, because the prospect of seeing people again had been fractionally low.

(...)

Hulk was eavesdropping on Banner's inner commentaries. He knew Banner couldn't hear him no matter how much he shouted, because that was an annoying puzzle he still hadn't cracked. He wasn't gonna bother wasting his breath. But even though he couldn't talk, he was stung.

And you're so different, are ya?

Banner must've been kidding himself. Gotten it into his head that he was perfect. He had everything under control. But he's the one who made a dumb lab with doors that were always locked because he was too much of a wimp to trust people. And Banner thought he was the problem, and the coward?

He oughta point a finger at himself first.

Or a bunch of 'em.

They did the same things, and they wanted the same things. The difference between them was that Banner couldn't admit it.

[angerissue]

Which Imaginary Illness Do You Have?

Quiz can be taken here.

Result: Shedding.

You are losing yourself, bit by bit. Your own skin is peeling away, moths forming out of it as you shed more of yourself. Your breaths birth hummingbirds and doves as they abate, your fears turning into savage things of teeth and claw. How much more of yourself will you have to grate away until you fit the mold you set yourself today? How much more will have to go tomorrow? How much longer until you've shed too much of yourself - until the pieces you left by the roadside are more than what little you have left?

Tagging: @mynameisanakin​ @corxunum​ @asgardianhammer​ and everyone else who sees this. Steal it!

[angerissue]

Headcanon: Hulk’s Absence on Sakaar.

When the Illuminati sent Bruce into space and he crashed on Sakaar, Hulk never fronted for him. This seems inconsistent with Hulk’s main purpose as an alter; to protect Bruce from strong negative emotions like despondence, and to step in for Bruce so he doesn't experience those emotions himself. However, Bruce was not despondent when he landed on Sakaar. He was angry. He was furious and stupefied that Tony Stark, and the rest of the Illuminati, were willing to ship him away without discussion. He was furious that they treated him like a destructive weapon that could not be reasoned with. These assumptions hit a nerve, because it was similar to how he'd been treated in the past, and he didn't want to relive it. Bruce was also aggravated because he'd been wanting to aid the parties that were against the Sokovia Accords, but he couldn't anymore. Because this energized Bruce instead of draining him, Hulk did not need to protect Bruce, because there was nothing to protect him from. To Hulk, Bruce was doing just fine on his own. Hulk would never admit it, but he also wanted to see what Bruce would do in this situation. He was curious, because Bruce had never been conned by someone he considered a friend, or in turn, reacted with such anger, and Hulk wanted to know if Bruce would make the same decisions as him. He was seeking validation in a sense. Hulk was also absent because, during Bruce's first few weeks on Sakaar, he was busy and beleaguered by stimuli. Immediately after landing on Sakaar, Bruce was captured, sold at a market, imprisoned, and forced to fight on a daily basis, and it demanded so much of his attention that he couldn't afford to brood and spiral out into negative thought loops. He simply didn't have many chances to be alone with his thoughts. Since Bruce was in a transformed state, his reactivity to stimuli was more intense as well — every small noise captured his attention, moreso because he was in a strange environment. It was difficult for Bruce to tune everything out, and this kept him in survival mode. Even when Bruce was back in his holding cell, there were other extraterrestrials around him. He learned to trust them eventually, but this wasn't the case at first, so he spent his time paying close attention to them and his surroundings, which distracted him from the worst of his ruminations. Even if he did manage to steal some time to think, it revolved around escape plans. His immediate situation on Sakaar took priority over what happened on Earth. Eventually, Sakaar's ruler was overthrown, and the political and social climate became more hospitable to Bruce, which allowed him to relax and think more introspectively again. But at this point, he'd overcome the initial shock of what happened with the Illuminati, and he wasn't compelled to think about them too much. He had been accepted by the people on Sakaar, despite his appearance, and he wanted to spend his energy on that instead of the people who betrayed him. In the end, Bruce returned to Earth because he was homesick and missed the good people who lived there. Once he touched down, Hulk’s tenuous curiosity about Bruce vanished, because he was disappointed that Bruce did not exact revenge on the Illuminati and make them pay for shipping him off. Hulk would have preferred this, because a show of force would've made them think twice about bothering Bruce again. Even now, Hulk fears that the Illuminati are still watching Bruce, and he blames Bruce for, yet again, creating an unnecessary problem for himself.

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My very existence, my life in the world, seemed like a hallucination.

Haruki Murakami

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“We are not your enemies, Banner. Try to think!” Thor Odinson and Bruce Banner / Hulk | The Avengers (2012)

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Please put me to bed And turn down the light

Fold down your hands Give me a sign Put down your lies

Lay down next to me Don't listen when I scream Bury your doubts and fall asleep

Find out I was just a bad dream Let the bed sheet soak up my tears And watch the only way out disappear Don't tell me why Kiss me goodbye For neither ever, nor never Goodbye

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If you were a deity, what would be your domain?

Quiz can be taken here.

Result: Wisdom and Knowledge.

You are the divine guardian of truths both knowable and unknowable, of all words and languages spoken and unspoken. Much like Death itself, you are perhaps one of the least understood of all deities, and yet the secrets you hold are sought after by scientists, philosophers, and theologians alike. The origin of all innovation, your realm is the source of crucial advances in architecture, agriculture, political governance, and military strategy which have allowed many civilizations to become a dominant force in the mortal realm. Your domain may also include magic and mysticism, and many cautionary tales exist among mortals of those who have unwittingly destroyed themselves or lost their minds in the reckless pursuit of mysteries and technology that is far beyond their comprehension. Your mythological equivalents are Greece’s Athena, Mesopotamia’s Enki, Egypt’s Thoth, and India’s Ganesha.

Tagged by: Stole it. Tagging: @asgardianhammer @mynameisanakin @corxunum (any character) and everyone else who sees this.

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I will never forget the moment your heart stopped and mine kept beating.

Angela Miller

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@mynameisanakin asked... 82. How often do you take responsibility for other people’s crappy behavior? From the loaded questions meme.

There was a phenomenon called neural adaptation, or synaptic fatigue. If someone was exposed to constant stimuli for a long enough period of time, their brain would eventually tune it out. It was the same reason he wouldn't perceive white noise after hearing it for a while, and the reason he didn't notice the teeth in his mouth in most cases.

But the illusion was easily broken. It only took a moment of silence for him to realize just how loud the white noise had actually been. And he wasn’t immune to getting a tooth knocked out and feeling the sudden hole, or feeling the hard pebble of enamel regrowing.

That was why hearing the word “responsibility” discomforted him. It was like sudden silence. Like a lost tooth.

He had shouldered responsibility so many times that it had blurred into everything else and become unnoticeable, at least until now. He felt the enormity of meaning behind it, and the incalculable amount of weight it carried, all caused by the sheer, nightmarish impact it had in his life. Not something he wanted to think about, to be honest.

Doctor Bruce Banner, professional whipping boy.

Yeah, that was flattering.

In social situations, edgy and uncomfortable as they could make him because he was never the best at conversation, he was also at his least obligated. He always stood his ground and looked at someone disapprovingly if they misspoke, instead of coming to their aid and assuming responsibility for them. It was difficult enough to keep tabs on himself, with all the room reading, and the constant tweaking of pretenses that made socializing feel like a tightrope walk, and he couldn't handle someone else's boo-boos on top of this. It was too much to juggle; there were too many pieces on the board. He was no Garry Kasparov.

If that weren’t reason enough, he relished the chance to stick to his guns. To silently tell someone, don’t look at me, you’re on your own.

Because social situations and petty quibbles were an act of compensation. It was the only time he could spit in the face of his chains. He didn't have much autonomy in the not-so-trivial situations, where he was the fall guy for incidents created by people like Ross and Maximoff. Those incidents were never due to their own poor decisions, but due to the Hulk.

The other guy. Always the other guy.

He was not referring to the aberration who got a kick out of stuffing "puny Banner" in the broom cupboard and gleefully beating the snot out of people. He was referring to the original other guy. The form that was always prime pickings for criticism because it was a monster of unexplained origin, no matter who (or what) was in charge of it at the time.

No one knew where the Hulk came from, or what circumstances birthed it. A benefit for him, identity-wise, but also a drawback. People saw it as an enigma; something that looked like a human but didn't talk like one, which made it more uncanny than not. Naturally, suspicions veered to it whenever unfortunate events happened. The public had no reference point. No context. They didn’t realize it was a man, so they didn't realize the obsessive lengths he went to avoid trouble; that he was harmless unless someone provoked him. They didn't realize that every incident had been the result of someone pushing his buttons, despite knowing the repercussions of doing so.

Like spilling oil and lighting a match.

He could have pushed back and denied culpability. After all, the Hulk could talk. He could have explained things, and asserted his innocence. It would have taken some acting chops, playing the role of a monster, but he'd played countless roles over the years, all strangers with blank slates, as mysterious as the loners from old Westerns. Jones. Smith. Bixby. He would have figured it out.

But he didn’t bother.

If he didn’t swallow the blame, nobody else would've come forward or answered the call for accountability. He knew Maximoff wouldn't have done it. Ross? Maybe in an alternate universe where he had a heart. Even Blonsky had come out clean. None of the evidence against the Abomination had mattered after he ransacked Harlem, not the reams of camcorder footage or the anecdotes that poured in, because Ross was there and ready to do damage control. The narrative was putty in his hands. It was a never-ending game of pin the blame on the Hulk.

It was better that way.

Better the public was angry with the Hulk, than angry without a heading and nobody to blame. Depriving them of a target wouldn't have been fair. He knew the feeling all too well, and it was bad for his blood pressure. Bad for his sense of calm. Without an outlet, he needed to rely on spontaneity to achieve catharsis, a botched version of it, and he'd never really gotten the hang of that. There were one too many pockmarks in the walls of his previous apartments. One too many damage deposits left unreturned. His love for privacy wasn't the only reason he turned away visitors.

Maybe he always let people blame him because he lacked the conscious ability to choose otherwise. Maybe it was the exhaustion. The messes he made, they weren’t frivolous or negligible, and with everything that clouded his mind afterwards, he was tired and distracted. Not merely the physical tiredness. He had to discard the feeling of his mind having gone through an electrified strainer, and let the threads reconnect again, one by one. There was the ethical woundedness, and the way it chipped away at him. There wasn’t much room to figure out how to transfer the blame, especially accurately.

Not to mention the possibility of blaming the wrong person, however small the risk was. Maybe, one time, Ross would have been innocent.

He tried to remind himself of the good news. If he continued to insulate his identities and hide the fact they were the same person, the bad publicity surrounding the Hulk would never affect his reputation as Doctor Banner. They were nothing to each other but colleagues, otherwise unrelated. But he didn't know how long the charade would last. And he had a pretty bad stain on his reputation as a scientist regardless, thanks to Ultron.

Maybe he ought to have credited the Hulk for that, too.

Twenty-twenty hindsight as usual, Banner.

His reaction to these memories was not invisible. It was the kind that made him want to chew his lip even though he had no such thoughts, like his muscles had brains and nervous systems of their own. It made his calloused fingers, knitted before his waist, worry among each other. But his eyes were bright with humour, and his mouth was a wry grin. Not an instinctive reaction, but a deliberate ploy to divert attention from his fidgeting. To sell the ruse that their question hadn't affected him.

"Too often."

His answer was blithe, but dredged in bitterness. He couldn't deny the anger he felt, either, and how he wanted to curl his fists until his knuckles were white. Solid as the logic behind his decisions seemed, it didn't soothe the fact that he would always be the guy people pointed their fingers at. Always had been. He couldn't articulate how far back the rejection went, precisely, because those memories became blurrier and blurrier the more he tried to remember. In some of them, he found holes, as if they'd been eaten by moths. But in some abstract sense, in the necessary and fundamental pillars of himself, it almost felt like blame had built him and laid the foundation for all the rest.  

Like it was entangled in the letters of his name; in the way he breathed. Removing it could break him and disassemble him into something unrecognizable, both to others and himself.

Maybe it already had.

Maybe that’s where Hulk came from. After all, Hulk didn’t seem to take responsibility for anything.

He didn't want to think about that, though. It was an ontological booby trap, and it didn't exactly fill him with confidence to go poking around in his head for answers right now. Too many pitfalls. He wished he could receive a single question, just one, that didn't lead him down a path of existential dread. He wondered what it would be like to be normal, and less exciting, and to mull over responsibility in that case — to give an answer that wasn't loaded, or riddled with subtext and lies by omission and hopscotch avoidances.

He wished the ugliest dilemma in his life was not some million-dollar question, but something mundane and quotidian. Whether he managed to clean out all the loose popcorn from the sofa seats. Whether he had enough chairs and dinner plates for a gathering. He could have lived simply, like Barton and Tony and their families did. He was sure these possibilities existed long ago, but he couldn't picture them anymore. Probably a bad sign.  

"Why?” he continued, quirking his brow. “You need a patsy, or is this your way of asking if I’m innocent?”

He wouldn't spell out that he wasn't — not entirely. Others may have instigated the fights, but he was still the one who ended them. Maybe that was another reason he couldn't request a fair trial. Provocations didn't matter when his fingerprints were all over the place regardless.

“Because if it’s the former, I’m afraid my rate’s gone up.”

He was finally in a place where he’d stemmed the flow of blood. Stopped the wounds from tearing open again and again, like a scab he couldn’t quit picking. Things hadn’t worsened in months, because he'd removed himself from the equation and hunkered down in the Catskills, where the local population was limited to bears and bobcats. If people needed a fall guy, it would take a laughably generous offer for him to consider fouling his public image again.

Especially because he knew Hulk would have a bird if he did that. When did Hulk not hate the choices he made?

Of course, he heard nothing from Hulk in response.

He never did.

It wasn’t for want of trying. Hulk was always there. Banner never heard him because he wasn’t listening. His big head was always off somewhere in la-la land, always out of sync because he wanted it that way. Annoying. Maybe if he stopped ignoring him and swatting him away like a bug, he wouldn’t have to deal with so much trouble all the time.

Wanna talk responsibility, Banner? Let's talk.

Told him not to trust Iron Man. Wound up on another planet. Told him not to use the glove. Mind's been sputtering ever since. Told him not to think about people. Lost his marbles in the drink, then under his own roof.

Lucky he was there to stop Banner from doing something real stupid. Guy would've been a goner if he wasn't around to drag him, kicking and screaming, away from his messes. To set him straight. To yank him back onto his feet, again and again, even if he never got any thanks for it.

And if that wasn’t enough, who stepped in when the magic lady got in Banner’s head and told him dad was coming back?

Him.

He stepped in.

Did Banner think that was fun for him? Did he even know how big a bullet he dodged? No, he didn’t.

‘Cause he remembered none of it.

‘Cause all the memories were with him.

I've been telling you where to go. Been putting your fires out. Taking your hits. You think you’re taking responsibility for others? I’m taking responsibility for you. Would a little gratitude kill ya?