#Maybe but is that Really important (Yes Bruce it kind of is you shouldn’t be crawling with a broken arm)

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 298

“So uh, is anyone gonna’ stop… that?” Honestly, no one here had ever had to deal with a borderline feral acting Batman, and Supes wasn’t there to do anything to help. Not to mention Diana just found their failure to do anything hilarious. 

“I don’t know Hal, do you have any idea on how to get him out from vents he shouldn’t by any logical reason be able to fit into?” 

“Well no, but I mean, it’s freaky! He just read a file, cursed more than I’ve ever heard him and just, okay, how did all of them even fit inside his cape-”

“Current theory is some sort of shadow dimension.” 

[fortuositywritings]

Collide pt 2

Wanda x R

Summary: Trying to do the right thing gets very awkward and complicated.

The elevator was taking its sweet time to get to the 87th floor. It’s like it knows you are anxious and annoyed and oh yeah, naked.

“Come on!”

Bruce is annoyed. He’s been running tests on tests and has come up empty.

“It’s okay, Bruce,” Wanda tries to calm him down, seeing the irritation on his face. She knows the feeling all too well. For crying out loud, these tests with no real results are being run on her. She’s grateful to have people who care so much, like Bruce who is simply mad he can’t give her an answer for why her powers basically seem to have vanished. 

“It’s not okay, Wanda. We don’t have the slightest idea why this is happening. I mean, your magic gone, just like that. It doesn’t make any sense,” he sighs. Then he straightens out his posture and gives her a determined smile. “But don’t worry. We’ll run more tests and we’ll figure this out. For now, why don’t we take a break. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

She returns his smile but less enthusiastically. Truth be told, she’s been kind of enjoying not having her powers. Don’t get her wrong, of course it is worrying not having them and she needs them to get back to doing her job, but for once in a very long time, she felt relaxed almost. 

Her powers are incredible and amazing, but what’s not so amazing is the weight she carried because of them. These last three months, she felt unburdened. She felt lighter, but she couldn’t tell her teammates that, not when they’re doing all they can to help her get them back.

Her powers are important to have for the team. She knows that. It’s why she sucks it up and is doing everything she can to get them back. People count on her. 

She hops off the stool and makes her way to the elevator. She notices Bruce isn’t following behind her. “Are you coming?”

“I’m just going to clean up here. I’ll meet you down in a few,” he replies. Wanda goes to press the button for the elevator. The doors open not two seconds after. 

“That was fast,” she mumbles. She steps into the cart and waves goodbye to Bruce. “See you.”

The elevator’s doors close. You gulp nervously. This could have worked out better for you but you got what you wanted. You came to see Wanda and here she was in the elevator with you. Maybe you should wait to talk to her when you find some clothes. You hope wherever she’s going has something for you to cover up with. 

Happy with your decision to pretend you’re not even there, you stay quiet and keep to the corner. Suddenly the elevator stops. 

“Shit,” Wanda says exactly what you were thinking. She begins pressing buttons trying to get the elevator to go but it’s of no use. She uses the emergency call button. 

“Hello, this is Wanda Maximoff. The elevator seems to be stuck,” she says into the intercom. 

“Yes, Miss Maximoff. The elevators have been stopped for security purposes, but do not worry, they are taking care of the situation. The elevators should be operational in just a few minutes,” the voice over the intercom says. 

If you weren’t so nervous, you could laugh at the situation. They’re taking care of the situation all right. Here you are, the situation, in the elevator with Wanda Maximoff. You hope this doesn’t take too long. You’re feeling very uncomfortable in the state you’re in, especially enclosed in such a small space with someone else. 

Five minutes go by and nothing happens. Wanda has been playing games on her phone to distract herself. You’ve been standing in the corner, hands covering yourself even though technically you’re invisible. It made you feel more decent in a way. 

Wanda’s game chimes and she celebrates winning whatever level of whatever game she’s playing. You smile, finding it cute. She’s been trying to pass that level this whole time. 

Before she can get into the next level, her phone rings. Natasha is calling her. She’s been made aware of the situation and is passing the information to Wanda. “There’s been a security breach. Some girl was asking for you saying it was urgent and forcibly made her way into the building. They still haven’t found her. Where are you?”

Wanda frowns. “I’m stuck in the elevator. They stopped them.”

“Okay, I’ll get yours to work. I’ll wait for you on the 71st,” Nat says.

“Okay,” Wanda responds. Nat rushes, “Oh, and Wanda be careful. She seems to have powers like yours.”

Wanda wants to ask about that but Nat hangs up before she has the chance. Wanda chews on her bottom lip as do you. Both of you are anxious. Your heart is beating out of its chest right now. You do your best not to let your breathing get out of control. You couldn’t have Wanda hear you. 

The elevator begins to move and you stupidly let out a sigh in relief at the same time Wanda does. You pray she didn’t hear it and thinks it was all her. For a moment you think someone heard your prayers, but you are oh so wrong. 

When the elevator stops at the 71st floor, you follow Wanda out the elevator. Unknown to you, she did hear your sigh from before and just needed to reassure herself she wasn’t hearing things. She keeps her ears attentive and when you follow her out, she hears the scuffle of your feet behind her. 

In a quick move, she grabs you and flips you over. Suddenly, she’s got you pinned down and in your shock, you don’t realize you let up on the invisibility. You look at Wanda in shock and fear, thinking she’s about to punch you in the face or something. She looks at you in shock, your face suddenly becoming visible. Natasha is in shock as well, wondering what the hell she’s looking at.

“Please don’t hurt me! I can explain!” you beg. 

“You! The one from the grocery store,” Wanda recalls. 

“Yes! You remember me?” you ask, surprised she would recognize your face after one interaction.

“Who is the naked lady on my floor?” The three of you turn to see Tony Stark walk up to you snacking on some food.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you greet him with an awkward smile and cheeks bright red. “I’m going to turn invisible now. Please don’t freak out.”

Wanda looks down and freaks out. She’s about to get off of you but Nat yells at her to stay put.

“She’s naked!” Wanda argues, but stays on you. 

“She’s invisible. We can’t have her leave without us knowing,” Nat reasons. 

“I won’t leave,” you promise. “I’ll show myself but I would appreciate some clothes.”

“Stop talking!” Wanda demands, glaring at you. She thinks she’s glaring at you but you are invisible so she can’t know for sure if she’s looking you in the eyes. 

“Who are you yelling at?” Bruce makes his way out of the elevator car that no one noticed arrived. 

“Me. Hi, I’m Y/N,” you blurt out, making Bruce jump, obviously not having seen you. 

“Who said that?” he asks, looking around the room trying to find you. 

“Down here. Under Wanda,” your voice appears again. Wanda tightens her grip on you.

“I thought I told you to stop talking. It’s unsettling,” she explains. 

“Well, so is being naked in front of all of you, so,” you retort. Bruce looks shocked but he finally pinpoints your voice where you said you were. 

“Can someone please get her some clothes?” Wanda asks for you, finally. “This is not a position I thought I’d find myself in today and would really like to get off.”

“Not the first time I heard that,” you joke trying to alleviate the tension. You think you do, making both Tony Stark and the redhead in the room snort. Wanda blushes. Bruce comes to the rescue, taking off his lab coat and laying it next to Wanda, assuming you are there to grab it. 

It looks odd, watching the lab coat move seemingly on its own. Wanda gets off of you as you put it on and finally reveal yourself after securing it around your body.

“Who are you?” The redhead asks, narrowing her eyes at you. Her tone means serious business.

Finding her intimidating, you try to reassure her, “I’m no one. I don’t mean any harm. I promise.”

“Who cleared you? Why are you here?” She continues her questions.

“No one. I made my way past security. I really needed to see Wanda. I have something that belongs to you,” you direct the last part at Wanda. 

“And this was so important you made your snuck into my building? How did you do that, by the way? Turning invisible. Neat trick,” Tony comments.

“They wouldn’t let me in. I’ve been trying to get someone to let me see her for the past week. I’m sorry for the dramatics but it can’t wait another day,” you explain. “You’re probably having trouble with accessing your abilities, right?”

“How do you know that?” Suddenly everyone is on the offense. You shouldn’t know that, not even the media is guessing that’s what was going on with Wanda and her not being on missions. 

“Tony, you have to see this! Someone has abilities like Wanda and they’re in the building,” Captain Steve Rogers rushes into the room with a tablet in his hand. The security tape of you blasting the guard off his feet with red magic plays on the tablet for everyone to see. Steve notices the stranger in the room. “It’s you!”

Everyone turns from looking at the tablet to looking at you in confusion. Everyone but Wanda who looks upset. 

“I can explain,” you try but Wanda cuts you off, stepping right in front of you, pointing a finger in your face. “You stole my powers!”

“I didn’t steal your powers. It’s not that simple.”

“Then explain how my powers seemed to have disappeared when we met and now there’s a video of you using my abilities,” Wanda demands.

“I-I mean, may-maybe it is that simple,” you stutter. 

She moves forward almost as if to attack you. Steve is on her in a millisecond, holding her back as you put your arms out in defense. You rush to explain, “But I didn’t mean to. It’s just something that happens when I touch people with special abilities.”

“What do you mean? Do you mean to say that you can take anyone’s abilities away? How many abilities do you have? Is there a limit to how many you can hold? If so, how many and can you choose which you keep?” Bruce Banner throws a slew of questions at you that you can’t really process while there is an angry Sokovian ready to throw hands with you.

“I’m just here to return them to you,” you say, trying to calm her down. That trips her anger. Everyone and her look at you confused once more. Wanda asks, “You can do that?”

“It’s what I’ve been trying to do all week, but no one would let me see you,” you sigh in frustration. 

Steve feels Wanda relax at the new information and lets her go. He also notices that because you moved your arms up when Wanda was going for you, you released your grip around the lab coat and were now exposed again. He clears his throat and looks away, “Miss, the coat.”

You look at him confused and then realize he’s referring to the lab coat you’re wearing. You and Wanda both look at it and then blush. You quickly wrap yourself up again. 

“Oh my god, can someone please get, what’s your name?” the redhead in the room inquires and continues once you stutter out your name, “Wanda can you please lend Y/N some clothes? We’ll wait for you on 87. I’ll inform security that the problem has been dealt with.”

It isn’t really a request, both you and Wanda know this. Wanda tells you to follow her and she leads you to what you assume is her bedroom. It’s pretty nice. You note that she keeps it tidy. 

“Here, these will fit.” She leaves you sweats, a hoodie, socks, and some sandals on the bed. “You can change in the restroom.”

She points at a door on the other side of the room. You smile awkwardly in appreciation and head over to change. While Wanda waits for you to come out, she tries to understand everything that has happened and everything that you told her. 

If you are to be trusted and it’s true what you said, including not doing this on purpose, then she supposes she owes you an apology. Are you to be trusted though? This would be so much easier if she had her powers. Then she would be able to figure it out in a wink.

Her powers made things so much easier but also they were a pain in the ass. She is grateful for them of course. She knows all the good she does and could do with them, but sometimes they were too much and she didn’t realize this until she was without them. 

It was odd being without them. She had grown accustomed to them. They were a part of her now and not having them was weird but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just different and for a moment she felt lighter. The only real stress of not having them was wondering what happened to them, but now here they are.

You have come to return them to her. She should feel relieved, right?

You step out of the restroom in her clothes. You thank her, “I’ll give them back once I get my clothes back. You don’t happen to have a ‘lost and found’ in the building, do you?”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask Steve or Nat,” she replies. After an awkward moment of standing there, neither of you speaking, you break the silence, “So, should we go now?”

Wanda hesitates to lead you out, so you assume there’s something else she wants to say. You wait. “Before we do, I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that when all you were trying to do is help.”

You smile and nod. “Yeah, that was scary, but I understand. It’s a weird situation to be in, but luckily we have everything cleared up and soon you’ll have your powers and you can get back to doing what you do.”

“Yes, lucky me,” she mutters, unconvincingly. She doesn’t know why, but going back to the regular schedule seems daunting. 

She finds you staring at her oddly. It makes her uncomfortable so she makes her way towards the door, motioning for you to follow. You make conversation on your way to the lab. 

“My friend loved the meal by the way. Thank you for all the helpful tips. It was delicious, if I do say so myself,” you tell her, using her phrasing when she described Sokovian meals. She smiles, catching it as well.

“I told you so,” she says, chuckling as you both wait for the elevator to reach the 87th floor. She thinks back to that day and based on what you said earlier, she asks you, “So is that how it happened? When we touched hands? That was how you got my powers?”

“Yep.”

“And to get them back, we do the same thing?” she ponders. “It’s that simple.”

“Yeah. It’s simple and annoying,” you complain. “I graze anyone’s skin and if by chance they can do something no regular person can, suddenly they can’t and I’m the one who can do it, but the most annoying part is when I don’t know who they come from since I have to touch them again to give their powers back.”

“That does sound frustrating,” Wanda agrees. 

“No, what’s frustrating is when they won’t take their powers back,” you whine. “And then I’m stuck with them.”

“What do you mean? Can’t you just touch them and give them back?” 

“They have to want their powers back for me to return them. It’s actually how I got the invisibility one. They couldn’t really control it at the time and I guess they got tired of it, so when they had the opportunity, they didn’t want it back. Those were weird first months with that power. Floating clothes spooks a lot of people. Luckily, a little practice and I could do this on command.”

You show her the way you could turn invisible. She looks startled so you appear again and apologize. “Sorry, I guess it’s still scary to people.”

“No, it’s cool. It just surprised me,” she reassures you. You give her a grateful smile in return. 

“Why did it take so long for you to find me?” Wanda asks and it is a reasonable question seeing as you can turn on the news station and probably find her easily. 

“Sorry about that. Truth is, I don’t follow the Avengers and what they do, so I had no idea who you were. I actually staked out the grocery store for weeks hoping I would catch you there,” you admit. 

“They didn’t kick you out for loitering?” Wanda giggles and then lets out a full laugh when you say, “Actually, they almost made me employee of the month, despite not working there.”

A ring in the elevator signals that you have arrived on the 87th floor. Wanda leads the way through the lab. 

“There they are,” Bruce announces your presence. He motions both of you front and center of the group. “So, how does this work?”

“I just touch her and give them back,” you shrug. “It’s not too complicated.”

“Okay, then,” Bruce accepts your answer. 

You hold out your hand for Wanda to take. “Ready?”

She nods her head and places her hand in yours. You smile, giving her hand a squeeze before letting go.

“That’s it?” Tony asks. You turn to him and nod. “Well, that was anti-climactic.”

“Alright, Wanda. Why don’t you go ahead and try to use your powers now,” Steve inputs more helpfully. 

You all direct your attention to Wanda who shakes herself in preparation to show off her powers. She holds her hands up and clenches and unclenches her hands into fists repeatedly. 

“Any time now,” the redhead whose name you assume is Nat hurries Wanda along. 

Wanda begins to shake her head. “I’m trying. It’s not working.”

“Maybe Y/N still has them,” Steve says. You turn your hand over and sure enough you do still have them, a red energy forming in your hand.

“That doesn’t make any sense. It should be working.” You make the energy dissipate and move towards Wanda again. You grab her hand for longer than before. Then you release her and she tries again without any success. You still have them. 

“Are you sure you’re doing it right?” Bruce asks. “Has this ever happened before?”

“Yes, I’m doing it like I always do. There shouldn’t be any reason why it doesn’t work,” you insist. The only reason why it wouldn’t be working is if the other person… You look at Wanda’s face and she wears a guilty expression on her face but something else catches your attention. A very loud thought from the woman in front of you makes its way to your head.

Please don’t say anything. 

The thought is followed by her looking right into your eyes, practically begging you to keep quiet. So you do. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong. This hasn’t happened before,” you lie for her. You turn your head to look at Bruce and shake your head hoping to convince him. You feel Wanda’s hand on your forearm, giving you a gentle squeeze. 

Thank you.

Now what are you supposed to do?

________________________________________________________

taglist: @dandelions4us @sapphic-girl 

let me know if i missed anyone in the taglist or if you wish to be on it

thank you for reading :)

[novamirmir]

can u write a natasha x fem reader fanfic based on favorite crime by olivia rodrigo where nat cheats and distances her self from the reader and they have been dating for awhile. and nat breaks up with r after she like confronts her about it? thank you love 😁

Genre: ANGST :)

Word count: 986

Request: yes

Warnings: Cheating, couple of swearwords. Not much else I don't think. Maybe just general pain?

A/N: I had so much fun writing this. I mean it totally broke my cold dead heart but I loved this request. I did make Brucie boy kinda the bad guy in this because Brutasha hurts me. I hope this is what you were looking for anon <3

Favorite crime

Loving Natasha Romanoff was…different. It was a whirlwind of excitement, danger and passion. It was the kind of love that consumed you wholly and left you burnt, bruised and wanting more. And I loved her completely.

Know that I loved you so bad I let you treat me like that I was your willing accomplice, honey

The signs first started when date nights went from nearly every night to a few times a month. I was naïve. I assumed it was just work. She is an international spy and full-time avenger. The date nights ceased to exist a month before it happened.

And I watched as you fled the scene Doe-eyed as you buried me One heart broke, four hands bloody

The arguments started soon after. It would be over little things, things that shouldn’t even matter. I would leave a pair of dirty socks on the floor; Natasha wouldn’t put the toilet seat down. It was like a well-oiled machine the amount we would argue, throw things, cry. Well, I was the one crying. Never in front of her though. The scoffs were too much at this point.

The things I did Just so I could call you mine The things you did Well, I hope I was your favorite crime

Yet, even with all the bitter things we said to each other, we would always end up in bed, having rough sex. There was no loving touches or pillow talk. It was raw and carnal and held nothing but hurt.

You used me as an alibi I crossed my heart as you crossed the line And I defended you to all my friends

“Y/n, she can’t treat you like this.” Carol told me as we sat drinking whatever alcohol was placed in front of us.

“It’s fine. I’m sure she was just called away on an important mission.”

Carol hit the bar with her hand. “It’s your damn birthday. She’s your fucking girlfriend. Did she even tell you happy birthday?”

I didn’t answer that. I just took another shot and hoped I could erase the image of her laughing with Bruce the way I used to make her laugh.

And now, every time a siren sounds I wonder if you're around 'Cause you know that I'd do it all again

I was sent on a mission. Tony needed some chemical from some top-secret lab. It was supposed to be the key for fixing the Hulk. I wasn’t confident it would considering the amount of times the building had to be evacuated because of a failure to fix ‘code green’. It took me less than two days to get the right chemical. Less than two days for everything to go to shit.

When I entered the Avengers compound, Jarvis instructed me to go straight to the lab so Tony could start work right away.

“Y/n! Haven’t seen you around in a while. If you could drop this off at Bruce’s room then we can catch up while I work.”

I had missed Tony’s vibrance. He always had a funny story, and the silences were never awkward. It’s bittersweet to think about the damage that we do 'Cause I was going down, but I was doing it with you Yeah, everything we broke, and all the trouble that we made But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face

I wish I could say that when I opened Bruce’s door and saw a certain redhead there too, I was hurt, that my heart broke in two. But that would be a lie. I was so tired I wasn’t even shocked. I just placed the bag down and walked out. I continued walking for what felt like eternity until I reached my apartment 5 blocks away.

Oh, look what we became

That night, Natasha came over.

“Here are your things.” I passed her a box filled with little things she had left at our my place. “I don’t want my things back. Burn them for all I care.” I turned around to close the door, but she put her foot in the gap before I could.

“Let’s talk?”

“No. you know I have hard limits and cheating is one of them.”

“Listen there’s no need to be bitter about it. You just don’t fit into my life. You never could. You were a fun little distraction from my feelings for Bruce because I thought he could never be with a monster like me. And besides” She lets out a dry laugh “He’s got a real dick.”

I wanted to tell her she wasn’t a monster. But she was, just not in the way she thought. She wasn’t a monster because of all those people she had killed, or that she couldn’t have children. She was a monster for not just breaking up with me. For playing this hideous game where neither of us were really happy. Sure, I could have broken up with her but she was never around so when it came down to it, there was no one to break up with.

“Leave. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“Well that’s going to be tough considering we work in the same place y/n” She rolled her eyes

“Not anymore.” I reached into my pocket and showed her the plane ticket that took me back to my hometown.

All the things I did Just so I could call you mine All the things you did Well, I hope I was your favorite crime

That whirlwind, the danger, the addictive taste of Natasha Romanoff was one of the best things in my life. Perhaps that’s why it completely destroyed me. Why it ruined me for any other type of love.

Your favorite crime Your favorite crime 'Cause baby, you were mine

And yet now, as I sit here looking back, I see that what I was describing wasn’t love, but lust.

[odos-bucket]

Bruce Being Super Protective of His Kids in Their Out-Of-Costume Lives Pt. 2 Re-Write

Basically this story with a little bit of extra angst injected in

Jason isn’t particularly well adapted to the kinds of social gatherings that Bruce’s position within the city demands they participate in. He attends his first event a few months into his stay at Wayne manor. He goes in fully expecting it to be terrible, and is not disappointed.

The old ladies trying to pinch his cheeks were something that Dick had warned him about. His tone had been light, like maybe it was something that he thought was funny, or was trying to think of as funny. But Jason doesn’t like to be touched, not by people he doesn’t know. He's only just starting to feel okay about casual physical affection from his new family. He doesn’t think Dick was trying to scare him exactly, but he accomplishes it anyway.

From the time the shindig begins he’s wound so tight he’s practically vibrating. He has no idea how he’s supposed to act at something like this. Things he’s never thought about before are suddenly tormenting him. He can’t figure out how to stand, or what he should be doing with his hands. He’s never been self conscious, but now he’s in this stupid room, wearing this stupid suit, surrounded by these stupid people, and it’s making him feel awkward.

The first time somebody tries to touch him he flinches away violently. He doesn’t mean to; it’s just what happens. It earns him a series of incredulous looks, from the man who had made the mistake of putting a hand on his shoulder, and a few other people in the vicinity.

Jason relocates himself quickly, not that one corner of the large room is really any better than any other.
 The next time someone tries to touch him, it’s his face. He had already decided that he didn’t like the woman in question before it happened. Her voice is an annoying pitch. Her words are all condescending. And even before reaching out for him she had been standing way too close.

If the proximity hadn’t been enough to put him on high alert the patronizing way she spoke to him certainly would have done it.

When her fingers come to press against his chin- as if she wants to turn his head to examine him- he pushes her away. Again, he doesn’t mean to do it exactly. It’s an instinctive reaction (and a pretty reasonable one, he thinks).

This time, however, he gets more than a few suspicious stares. The movement itself had been subtle enough not to draw any attention he didn’t already have. But the woman replies with an outraged squawk, that suddenly brings dozens of eyes onto them, and sets Jason’s heart racing at a panicked pace.
 He freezes. Being stared at had been pretty high on his list of things to avoid tonight. And now people are talking too.
 “Why you little-“

“What happened?”

“Wayne’s little rat-“

“Did you just hit her?”

“Delinquent-“

“Did he just hit her?!”

The woman he shoved looks like she might be about to slap him, but he’s honestly less concerned about that than he is about the mix of curious and indignant bystanders drawing closer. They’re not surrounding him really, but it sure as hell feels like they’re trying to, and Jason’s had enough experiences being surrounded to know that it never leads to anything good. At the moment he’s having a hard time processing anything beyond the terrified impulse to lash out again, not to hurt anyone, just to get them away, so that maybe he can get away.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Oh god, Bruce. Jason’s not surprised the scene got his attention, but he’s a little startled to hear a much darker tone than his regular civilian voice.

Every muscle in his body that wasn't already tense tightens up, and heat flares at the back of his neck. He doesn't want to be in trouble. He doesn't even really know what being in trouble means in this new life yet, and he's been hoping to put off finding out as long as possible.

Bruce forces his way through the crowd. Some of the onlookers redirect their attention away as he approaches. A handful of voices from different directions make overlapping attempts to answer his question. Jason hears something about how he’s, “not as well behaved as your last stray,” but isn’t looking up in time to see how the comment makes Bruce bristle, and just feels the warm shame that he wishes it didn’t ignite in him.

Bruce reaches them in seconds, takes in the woman’s body language, and immediately drags her several feet back from Jason. When he speaks, he manages to sound like Batman (at least to Jason’s knowing ears), even without the voice modulator.

"You will never put your hands on my child again.”

Jason's not sure what he had been expecting Bruce to say, but that wasn't it, and hearing it gives him whiplash, makes his heart that had already been beating in his throat stutter to a halt.

“I didn-“ the woman begins. “Your urchin-“

“Did you touch him?” Bruce's voice is deceptively calm.

“I was only-“

“Yes or no.”

“I didn’t hurt him,” she scoffs.

“That isn’t what I asked.”

Jason wants to say that it doesn't matter, that it isn't a big deal, because really it shouldn't be. He shouldn't be afraid to be touched; it's just one more thing about him that so glaringly doesn't belong. But he's still not sure whether or not he's in trouble, and if he is then he's learned from experience that it's better to keep his mouth shut.

“Mr. Wayne, the kid attacked her. All she did was touch him.” One of the few onlookers who isn’t pretending not to be paying attention pipes in.
 Bruce’s jaw grinds, as he looks slowly between the man who had spoken, and the woman.

“So you did touch him?”

“This is ridiculous!”

It's somehow the worst thing she could have possibly said. Jason already knows he's ridiculous. He can feel it with every fiber of his being, and the confirmation that everyone else can apparently see it too sparks a stinging sensation at the back of his throat.

“On that we’re agreed.” Bruce slips further into his regular public persona as he speaks, and Jason flinches slightly at his words.

Bruce looks over the remains of the audience they’d acquired, making pointed eye contact, silently subduing any conflict before it can arise. By the time he turns back to where the woman had been standing, she’s hurried away. The sparse handful of people still shooting them scandalized glares are at least a little easier to ignore.

Bruce approaches Jason, who forces himself to keep his eyes open and his gaze up.

He's getting ready to apologize. He hadn't wanted to embarrass Bruce, or to get him in trouble with whoever the hell those people had been- with his luck probably someone important. He doesn't want to be in trouble either, but he recognizes that that ship has probably sailed already. He just wishes he knew what kind of punishment to expect; he hasn't been here that long, and adult behavior is hard to predict.

“Are you okay?”

Jason blinks, and apparently it takes him longer than he thinks to process and respond to the question, because Bruce asks it again.

This time he nods, figuring it’d be pretty stupid for him not to be okay.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Bruce asks.

Jason knows that it's not really a question; he's already done enough damage for the night after all. He nods his head. He’s not totally sure how to get back to the manor from here- he still doesn’t know this part of town very well- but he’s sure he’ll be able to figure it out before Bruce wraps up here.

“Let’s get our coats.”

Jason looks up in surprise, but Bruce is already walking away.

Right. He guesses it makes more sense that they’d be leaving together. He's noticed that rich families like to keep any shows of conflict private. One of the consequences of which being that he still doesn’t know how the hell these people discipline their children.

He nods again, cheeks still burning with embarrassment.

-

They leave the party without further incident, catching a cab back to the manor.

Bruce observes Jason’s defensive body language as they slide into the backseat.

“Are you sure you’re okay, lad?” He asks slowly.

He receives a tight nod in reply, and sighs.

“Do you want to help me get a better picture of what happened in there?”

Because what he’s looking at isn’t okay. He’s seen his witty, outgoing child shut down like this before, and it usually means he’s scared. Bruce needs to know if he was spooked by something innocuous, or if he’s going to need to hurt someone.

Jason turns from being seemingly caught off guard by the question, to apparently desperate to answer it in the span of a second.

“I swear I didn’t hit her! It was just that she-“ He shakes his head, apparently deciding against whatever he’d been about to say. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? You’re not in trouble, Jason, not unless I’m really missing something here.”

That earns him a long suspicious look.

“I don’t like to be touched,” Jason grumbles after a minute.

“And people shouldn’t feel entitled to touch you.”

He learned pretty quickly when he first became a parent not to assume that adults would always respect children’s boundaries. And he knows that Jason has been hurt. He’s not sure exactly how, or by who, but the signs are all there. And he shouldn’t have to deal with being forcibly reminded of that by the carelessness of others; he’s a kid for god’s sake!

“Is that all-“ He stops himself from finishing the question. “People shouldn’t feel entitled to touch you,” he reiterates. “Can you tell me if anything else happened? If anyone hurt you, or threatened you?”

Jason starts to shake his head, but stops with his neck angled slightly toward Bruce.

“I thought she was gonna hit me,” he admits.

Bruce’s body tenses up. He had noticed that himself when he’d first entered the scene, and what he had read in her body language had made him see red.

“And then there were so many other people,” Jason continues. “And they were talking, and staring at me. It had me feeling kind of boxed in.”

“I’m so sorry, son.”

Jason looks a little startled up at him.

“Just to be clear,” he says slowly. “I’m not in trouble?”

“You’re not in trouble,” Bruce confirms. “I promise I will always do whatever I can to protect you from people like that.”

[wrenhyperfixates]

The Raven Haired Rebel

Chapter 1

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: After invading New York, it was decided that, as a punishment, Loki would work for SHIELD. Yeah, right. After escaping from their custody and stranded on Midgard, the God of Mischief decides to prove he’s the one thing no one ever thought he was: the good guy. Now a vigilante, Loki attempts to make amends for his past wrongdoings while also evading the Avengers, including their newest member. You. Brought in specially for the case, you notice more and more details about the prince’s story don’t add up. When you get the chance to turn him in, will you listen to your employers or your heart that believes Loki’s done nothing wrong? Chapter Summary: In which you plead Loki’s case. Chapter Warnings: none A/N: Besides this being a miniseries, all the chapters are pretty short too! Hope you enjoy all the same :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting @mooncat163

RHR Tag List: @happygalaxymilkshake @electroma89 @stardust-walker @i-would-kneel-for-loki​

Masterlist

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Swiping into Avengers Tower made you feel important, more so than swiping into a SHIELD base. You weren’t exactly sure why, though. Perhaps it was because SHIELD was a secret, and no one knew. Here, the passerby on the street looked on in awe. Or maybe it was because the Tower was so elite. Because so select few got to enter. But really, it probably wasn’t that you got to enter so much as why you got to enter.

True, since your first day on the job, word got around that you were the best in your field. Fast as lightning, you’d risen through the ranks to be Fury’s top tracker, a position all but secured when he brought you on for this case. A case, you knew, that intrigued you far more than it should have.

Just like everyone else had on that day a little over three months ago, you watched the TV with rapt attention as gods and superheroes made themselves known to the world. And, you supposed, supervillains too. Not that you’d told anyone, but something didn’t quite sit right with you in the weeks after when news anchors and colleagues alike were referring to the raven haired god as such.

For the next three days, you’d pored over books of Norse Mythology and a number of studies. Most of the latter coming from one Dr. Jane Foster, who you soon came to link with Thor. But even there you found a disconnect between the god of legends and the bloodied man on your screen. He never really did have malicious intent before. He was a trickster, yes, but he’d not even come close to doing something this drastic before! Ok, yes, there was his involvement in Ragnarök in the myths, but even for that you’d found multiple sources that could debunk it. Besides, it certainly didn’t seem like Asgard had even faced the end times yet.

Alas, you figured Thor knew his brother, and you had your own case to work on, so you let be the mystery that was Loki.

And then you were called into Fury’s office a week ago and asked to begin tracking the god. A bit too eagerly, you’d agreed to take the case. You’d dealt with villains before, truly evil people, and your search only further proved what deep down you already knew; Loki was not one. Everywhere you followed his trail, a mysterious savior was stopping bank robberies and saving people from burning buildings and runaway trains. Not to mention there were multiple descriptions of said savior using green magic. It seemed a wonder that the tracker in the case before you hadn’t noticed. Then again, people tend to only see what they want to.

Regardless, you made your way to the elevators, heading toward the conference room on one of the upper floors. You tapped your foot as it ascended, impatient to share your findings. As the lift stopped and you got out, you tugged on your leather jacket. It was ever so slightly too big, but it was on sale. Plus, you felt like it looked pretty cool, considering your job and all. Subconsciously, you puffed up your chest a bit too. Regardless of actual size, you felt like a petite little thing, stepping into a room of now renowned heroes. Strange, you thought, how so much could change in just three months.

“You know, I got to get me one of those,” said the man suddenly keeping pace next to you. You quickly identified him as Tony Stark.

“I... Pardon?” you replied, slightly startled.

“Your jacket,” he said, pointing at it. “I feel like the leather will match the whole rugged good-guy, vibe. Besides, I think Capsicle’s got one.”

You chuckled at that. “Maybe we should just make it the team uniform then.”

“Team, huh? So you must be that new tracker kid we’re working with.”

“I’d hardly call myself a kid,” you scoffed.

“When you get to be as rich as I am, you get to call everyone a kid,” Tony shrugged.

“I’m not exactly sure that’s how it works, but whatever you say, I guess,” you chuckled again.

“See, now if everyone would just adopt that mindset, we’d get stuff done a lot faster around here.” He quickly signed something that was brought up to him on a clipboard, never stopping. You wondered how long he could keep up like this before collapsing. “Besides, take it as a compliment. That last tracker was some fuddy-duddy old guy.”

“Fuddy-duddy?” you guffawed. “Maybe you’re the old one, after all.”

Tony feigned like he’d been struck in the heart. But before you could keep up the banter, you reached the conference room, and Steve was waving you inside.

“Stark,” he said with a nod. “Are you ready to begin or are you going to keep distracting our new teammate?”

“Aye aye, Captain,” he said with a little salute. “Reporting for duty.”

You mouthed a sorry as you followed Stark into the room. Even if the rest of them turned out to be hard-asses, at least Tony was fun. And having one ally was better than none, you figured. As you took your seat across from your new friend, you flipped through the file that had been left for you. It wasn’t really anything new, so you glanced at your teammates again. Nat and Clint both nodded at you, recognizing you from a couple other missions you’d interacted during. There wasn’t really any time to talk, however, before Captain Rogers was walking to the head of the long table.

“Alright, team. Before we get started, I think it’s worth mentioning we have a new member on the team,” Steve said, before welcoming you by name. “I think we’re all caught up on the situation here, so let’s dive right in. A new trend has shown up in the Tower’s data mining.”

“Data analysis,” Tony butt in. “It sounds more ethical that way.”

“Whatever you want to call it, the program showed that wherever Loki goes, there’s a spike in activity of an organization calling themselves AIM. At first glance they seem innocent, but after some digging, we’ve found they’re anything but. We’ve determined Loki is working with them, perhaps even masterminding some of their more underground projects. Agent? Can we assume you found the same things?”

“Uh, yeah, no. Actually, my data shows the opposite,” you cleared your throat. Standing, you slid the information from your tablet onto the room’s TV screen. “See, it seems that he’s actually doing good deeds. There are multiple accounts of a man fitting Loki’s description performing heroic works.”

“Ok, I’ll bite,” Tony said, leaning forward. “What about AIM then? You think it’s a coincidence.”

You bit your lip. “I’ll admit, I haven’t found anything about them yet. But... maybe, just maybe, Loki’s showing up where they are because he’s trying to stop them.”

“I am so sorry to interrupt, but that does not sound like the Loki I know at all,” Thor laughed. “A wonderful joke, though.”

Now you were getting mad. You shouldn’t be, but you saw something worth defending in Loki. A lot, actually. There was something about that look in his eye that you couldn’t quite read, but it was telling you something was wrong all the same.

“That’s not fair! Maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought. Look at this,” you said, swiping to show a side by side of Loki during and after the fight. “You can see it by the look on his face; something was seriously wrong during the battle. Plus, I’ve seen videos of him when he first came; he was not alright. Afflicted with severe anxiety and what looks like burn marks, I’d say. He needed help.”

“With all due respect,” Clint chimed in, “aren’t your a tracker, not a psychologist?”

“Yes, but as such I’ve been trained to look at all the details. Not just what’s convenient.”

“Listen,” Steve sighed before things got any more heated. “It’s a great theory and all, but you read Thor’s account of everything that happened before this. So, until we get some solid evidence proving otherwise, we’re going to have to stick with what we already know. We’ll put a pin in the AIM thing until you can take a look, though. Ok?”

“Ok,” you agreed, defeatedly taking your seat again.

You looked around the table. Natasha and Bruce, the only two who hadn’t said anything, both looked kind of pensive. Alright, maybe bewildered was the better word for Bruce. He was smart, no doubt about it, but you got the impression he wasn’t very good in social settings. Then there was Clint and Thor, both who seemed a little skeptical of you. At least Thor seemed to be considering his brother’s innocence at least a little. Steve was a bit more unreadable as he continued to prattle on about what you already “knew” for the case. And then there was Tony, who seemed more impressed than anything else. He, at least, had seemed to genuinely consider what you said. Perhaps he still was.

“The best way to solve this,” Steve closed his spiel, “is to bring him in. Agent, have you located him yet?”

You sighed. Deeply. It shouldn’t be this much of a struggle to present your findings. You’d had no trouble speaking on his behalf. Yet a part of you—an alarmingly large part, you realized—didn’t want to turn him in. But who were you to ignore direct orders?

“Yup,” you conceded, pulling up a map with a blinking red dot, marking Loki’s location.

“Well then, team,” Steve said to the group. “Let’s roll out.”

[nincompoopydoo]

PINING, BAGELS, REPEAT.

— WHEN THE DRINKING'S DONE ; PART 6 / ?

( gif from this gifset by @jascontodd )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

SUMMARY: Sunday night dinner with your mother doesn’t go as planned when Bruce shows up unexpectedly at your door and you both know how your mother really loves him alot.

A/N: Slow and kinda long-winded chapter again haha. I used to be the kind of person who couldn’t write long stuff. Now look at me. Who is she??? Enjoy this one yall. Probably one or two more chapters to go, depends on how much I can write <3

WARNINGS: Swearing, alcohol. I write about what I feel and they are very real. So if you find these things triggering, please do not read this.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Sunday night. You’re in an apron, flushed from the heat of the stove. You’ve just poured a glass of wine for your mother, but she doesn’t drink it—too busy walking around your apartment, clearing your stuff as she criticizes your lack of cleanliness and organization. Grading papers during exam season keeps you busy. Needless to say, you don’t have the time to clean your goddamn house.

You still love her anyway.

You’re at the sink, purple-stained fingers from peeling the tunic of the red onions are under running water when there is a knock on your door. It’s deafening, rapid, and agitating. You’ve just spilled boiling water onto your hand and you really don’t need another problem to come charging at your front door. Literally.

Moving out of the kitchen with haste, you call out over your shoulder to your mother to quit rearranging with bits and bobs of stationary and papers because yes, it’s messy but you know exactly where everything is. The knocking doesn’t cease, and your annoyance aggravates further. You’re gonna have to punch someone or something if it doesn’t stop.

You aggressively pushed the barrel of the bolt lock, swinging the door open as the strands of your wild hair flew backward in the sudden blow of air.

All forms of anger and agitation disappear as soon as your gaze meets the flushed face of none other than Bruce fucking Wayne, dressed in a grey dress vest, tie hanging loosely a pristine white shirt, and an ebony tweed overcoat. This feels like deja vu. Your expression goes through a series of mixed emotions, mostly confusion, when it morphed into a guise of embarrassment, cheeks even redder. “Don’t tell me I texted you by accident again?” He blinks, seemingly as bewildered as you are. “What? No, no. No. I—” His sentence is cut short when he takes a moment to catch his breath. Your brows are frowning even deeper than before. “Did you run here or something? And what are you doing here anyway?”

Bruce shifts in his stance, a palm against the door frame, shaking his head. He feels small under your interrogative stare. “No, I came here to see you…” he trails off, eyes shamelessly skirting across your figure. He just now notices that it may be a bad time for him to turn up, and you’re hit with the realization you’re in a ratty apron, very red and very sweaty. You’re right. It is deja vu because why are you always a mess when Bruce shows up at your front door unannounced? You abruptly pull the apron over your head, hurling it behind the door, hands palming the frizz of your hair into a somewhat presentable look.

“Look, I need to talk you—”

“Honey! Who’s at the door?” He’s being cut off mid-sentence again. This time, by your mother’s voice from the living room. Your eyes are wide again—so are his.

Your mother’s fondness for Bruce is an understatement. Obsession is a better word. She had only met him once, and that was six years ago but the conceptualization of being somewhat related to an exceptionally handsome and successful man had gotten to her head all those years ago. Hell, she loves him more than she loves you. Your mother—A woman who wishes to call your best friend ‘son’ with a whole lot of love to give. If she discovers Bruce is here, at your doorstep, she will never let go. Never. And you both know it. There’s a silent understanding that travels between the two of you and the look you’re giving him tells only one thing—Run before it’s too late.

“Bruce Wayne as I live and breathe...”

Well, too late.

A small-statured lady stands on the farther side of the hallway, face lit up with sheer joy and excitement as if she had just won a lottery. She approaches him with arms open wide and soon, her hands are laid on his cheeks, examining the man’s face carefully. Bruce just stands there, stiff as a rock, unsure of how to regain his composure from all the adrenaline of wanting to see you now that he was in such close proximity to the woman who raised you. When it’s you, he tends to struggle with timing and it’s partly the reason he has never managed to act on his feelings for you. For the longest time, he has wanted to be more than friends or whatever the hell this was. He had been hesitant but now, he’s very sure.

Sometimes it feels like it's the right person but the wrong time. He doesn’t want it to be that way. He wants to make things right with you.

And there he was, being squished under the grasp of the lady that loves him very much.

He catches your gaze; you flash him a sympathetic smile as you mouth the word “sorry.” Bruce arches his brows, indicating he has no idea what to do or how to get out of this situation.

“You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you!” the older woman exclaims, a hand now firmly on his shoulder, the other brushing away his long strands of hair from his face with affection. Bruce would never admit it; he likes the attention your mother gives to him—the touch of a mother. Something he longs for.

“Why don’t you come in and join us for dinner? There's more than enough food.”

Crap, you should have known that question was bound to be mentioned. You’re not convinced that you will be able to suppress your emotional heartburn and the idea of Bruce tasting the dishes you’re cooking, it’s making your palms sweat. But what the hell. You shouldn’t be this nervous around him, you’ve known each other for years. He has seen you at your worst and vice versa.

Still, you’ll like to avoid the predicament of a dinner table set for you, your mother, and the man you secretly love. You’re quick with an answer. “Oh, I’m sure he has other important things to do. Bruce is very busy—”

“I’ll be happy to. I have no plans for tonight after all.”

You stare at Bruce, eyes glimmering with shock and betrayal—he is supposed to be on your side. He simply sends you a swift wink, and you feel the growing and most likely apparent deep red of your already flushed cheeks. You glance away to face your mother, eye crinkling in hopes of concealing the effect he has on you. Well, at least your mother looks fucking overjoyed. Maybe the night won’t end in disappointment.

-

The scent of chicken and spice whiffs through the air from the dishes of chicken and chorizo paella you’ve managed to whip up in a quick thirty minutes—a recipe you came by in an article titled “Fancy dishes for lazy cooks.” Well, it’s certainly working; everyone looks pleasantly surprised when you emerge from the kitchen with a cast-iron skillet within your kitchen gloved-grasp.

Happiness is the sound of the clinking of cutlery against nearly empty smeared plates, the splash of wine cascading from the bottle you held into the glasses of your guests, and the occasional laughter that erupts from your mother as Bruce tries to make a joke through mouthfuls of paella. A symphony of contentment and comfort, composed and orchestrated by the two most significant individuals in your life. Beauty is made anywhere beautiful people are; in this space, cramped up at the beech wooden table made for one by the casement window that overlooks the apartment across yours.

This side of Bruce—where boyish smiles were manifested and hearty laughs arising from the belly—is the side you miss the most. Years ago, things felt simpler though your past self would deny that notion as human life continues to become more intricate as we grow older and our eyes see more. Innocence to maturity. Happiness to grief. But, the complexity of this warfare between the brain and the heart seems to reside in perpetual darkness, no light at the end of the tunnel. For a long time, you thought deciding to be alone could eventually bring peace to the madness but maybe, you’ve been with the wrong people this whole time. It’s your reflection against the window pane that shows the evident crinkle in your eyes and the constant upward in the curve of your lips even though it contrasts the gloomy hues of blue from the sky at twilight—you’re happy.

It’s the way your mother leans over and wipes off the bits of rice from the corner of your mouth and the exchange of awkward smiles when Bruce accidentally brushes his hand against yours when reaching for the fork. This is what you want. And maybe, just maybe, you deserve to not be alone.

“So, have you decided on who you’re taking to the wedding?”

Your mother’s voice hauls you back from your daydream. She gives you a knowing look, discretely glancing towards Bruce on the other end of the table. She knows you don’t have a date, and you know she wants you to bring Bruce. You feel your anxiety creep back in.

This is weirdly the second time you’re in this situation.

“I don’t know yet...” In times like this, you wonder if your mother wields some sort of magical ability of truth or something because no matter how much you try, you can never lie to her. And now, you wish the ground would collapse and swallow you up. You know she means well, but oh my God, Bruce is staring at you and you don’t know what to do with your hands anymore.

“Wedding?” Bruce chirps with a questioning brow as he glances between you and your mother. Now, you’re forced to explain for the sake of context. “My cousin’s getting married next week and mom here wants me to bring a date.” Your mother’s expression indicates that you’re lying through your teeth. Yet in reality, it’s not technically a lie if you’re leaving parts of reason out of the explanation because it’s true she wants you to bring a date but you don’t mention how you don’t want to go alone because weddings make you sad.

It sounds pathetic.

Bruce just nods, taking a sip of his wine. The fact he’s not saying anything is making you anxious. You thought you didn’t want him to be your date but now, maybe you do. These feelings are messing up your brain. It’s just mush now, and there’s no cure.

These are the times you want to say “Fuck you, Bruce” but in the nicest way possible.

“Why don’t you bring Bruce?”

She was direct as they come but is mostly tired of your lack of initiative and doubt. I mean, it’s not like you’re asking him to marry you, right? And honestly, you’re kind of relieved you didn’t have to be one to do it but you can’t keep depending on her to do all the heavy lifting for you. You’re not a teenager anymore. You’re a goddamn grown adult.

Nevertheless, you peer at his reaction to this from the corner of your eye, fully expecting some sort of a resting jaded expression or eyes wide in horror but he’s just looking at you...with that look—highly bewildered and almost seems to be entertained by your embarrassment. Despite the purse of his lips, you manage to catch sight of the slight impish tuck of his lips.

He thinks it's the wine, but he isn’t exactly sure.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

-

“Are you sure about this?” you cross your arms, as you watch Bruce shrug on his coat from the rack. The two of you are squeezed in the entryway of your apartment, huddling in hushed conversation. “About what?” he asks absentmindedly when in reality, he knows exactly what you’re referring to. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s an excuse to be around you longer. You purse your lips, shifting in your stance, eyes flickering away from his gaze. “About coming to the wedding,” you say it slowly, carefully, like you’re afraid to and you’re not sure why. He nods with the furrow of his brows, tugging his hands into the pockets of his ebony tweed coat. “I’m sure...Unless you don’t want me to come—”

“No, no. God, of course, I want you to come,” you stop, realizing how your sudden outburst of excitement must have made you seem desperate. You clear your throat, feet shifting once more. “I don’t want to pull you off work just because I don’t want to be alone.”

He raises his brows, nearing a little closer to you. “So that’s the real reason?” A hint of a smile—it’s a teasing one. You simply throw a fist to his arm yet unable to stifle your growing smile. “Don’t be a jerk.”

Bruce winces followed by a laugh that comes out more light a puff of air as he bares his palms in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

Maybe, it’s the walls of this hallway, covered with hung framed photographs of family, childhood, and friends because it’s starting to feel warm. You think it’s the way his eyes light up when you laugh, radiating a sort of comforting warmth on this cold night. It feels like home. Bruce feels like home. You notice the prominent stain of your mother’s lipstick on his left cheek. You bring one hand to rest on the curve of his cheekbone, thumb trying to efface the smeared stain away.

You’re not sure if it's the smell of his deodorant or the sudden sense of his breath on your skin that made you comprehend the closing gap between your face and his. In an instant, your hand jerks away and returns to your side, clenching to a fist. Bruce clears his throat, bringing a hand up to scratch the growing stubble at his jaw. The touch of your fingers lingers like a burn.

Recognizing the tension in the air, you decide to avert your thoughts back to the conversation you were having in the first place. “You know, you don’t have to come. Really. You’ve done a lot for me, and you know that.”

“Yes...but I’ll always have your back no matter what.”

He smiles at you. The kind that reaches his eyes. He looks younger like this.

“And I’ll always have yours, Bruce.”

You’re an idiot. He’s an idiot. You’re just two idiots, standing in the hallway with hearts that feel like they’re about to explode. Despite the lingering tension in the air that’s still present, you bring him into an embrace. It feels natural, your arms around his shoulder and his on the small of your back. “Thanks for everything. Especially for making my mom really happy.” you punctuate your sentence with a gentle caress to the back where his shoulders meet. You hear the muffled sound of his laugh, feeling the rumble of his chest against yours as you try not to squirm at the brush of his unshaven chin against the curve of your neck. “No problem,” he mumbles before pulling away.

“And you need a shave.” You’re pointing to his chin and he finds himself scratching it again. He merely hums in response.

Swinging the door open while you wave him goodbye feels like a part of you is leaving. You’re not sure why you’re feeling this newly found emptiness in you when you know you’ll see him next week. You decide to blame the wine. It’s easier that way.

He’s walking away, already out of view when you decide you should really say something at least.

“Bruce,” you suddenly call out; he turns on his heels and backtracks a little too eager to face you at the doorway. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” He frowns in response, head tilting in a questioning manner. “When you came here, you said you needed to talk.”

He recalls the real reason he was here in the first place. Rushing to your door like you’re about to disappear any minute. Yet, you’re here, still at the doorway, three hours later. Fuck, he was about to confess.

Bad timing. Again.

Right person, wrong time.

No. He’ll make it right. Just, not now.

“I was...going to thank you for the bagels; Asiago. Nice choice.” Is what he says instead of reciting the words that had been running through his head in rehearsal since the drive to your apartment. He ignores the way your shoulders sag, perhaps in relief—he doesn’t want to know. He ignores the burning in his chest when you nod, the corners of your mouth tugging into a faint smile as you raise a palm in a somewhat solemn wave of farewell. He ignores the sting in his eyes when the door closes on him, symbolizing finality when he really doesn’t want it to end. Left alone in the dismal light of the hallway; it acts as a poignant reminder of his bereavement and how much of his consolation depends on your presence.

When the drinking's done, does it make it any easier for him to open himself up to you?

Bruce allows himself to cry once he pulls the car door to a close because he feels overwhelmed by the conflicting thoughts that continue to reside in his mind. The regrets, the what-ifs, and the should-haves. He forgets himself sometimes because he gets so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

You keep him grounded. You remind him who Bruce Wayne truly is.

He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror.

You’re right. He does need a shave.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

[curlybookwriter0294]

Behind the Dark Sunglasses

Summary: All Wally wants to do is to enjoy his time with his handsome boyfriend Nightwing. However, he can't stand his dark sunglasses and truly wants to know who he truly is because he is dying to know what color his eyes were. Will he finally tell him?

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the DC or the YJ universe!!! Just the plot lol.

AN: I am back with another Birdlfash fic!! Gosh, I just fucking love these two togetherrrrrrr and I hope that you guys will enjoy this little beauty. Sadly it is not smutyyyyy but there is somewhat sexual content in here lol. 

Wally West has no idea if heaven is even real but hey, he lives in a world with superheroes and he’s one of them, so anything is possible at this point these days. Right now, at this moment, this feels like he’s in heaven. “Fuck,” he muttered through grounded teeth, throwing his head back and closed his green eyes and used a hand to grab a fist full of dark hair that was between his legs. “Babe. Shit.”

He heard a low chuckle that he knows all too well and had opened one eye to see his raven-haired boyfriend stroking his member with a hand as he smirked up at the older speedster above him. “Enjoying this?” he asked him, using another hand to push up his dark sunglasses that he would always wear whenever he’s not in his Nightwing uniform.

Wally bit his lower lip so he could focus the warm touch that was on him, frowning when he had looked down at the younger hero’s face or what he could see because of his stupid sunglasses. He sighed. “I would be enjoying it a lot more if I could see your eyes, Nightwing,” he said with a sigh.

 He watched Nightwing move away from his legs and knew that the moment between them had ended because of what he had said. The two heroes were silent as he had put himself back into his boxers and jeans that he was wearing, watching Nightwing walking over to sit in his desk chair with a deep frown on his face. “Wing…” he started, running a hand through his short red hair.

 “You know why I can’t tell you.”

 Wally rolled his forest orbs with a snort and leaned back on his bed until his back touched the headboard. “Yea. I know. It’s because of Batman and his stupid rules. I just thought… that since…never mind. Forget it.”

 Neither of them said anything after a while and Wally watched the younger hero fiddling over his computer that was attached to his watch and Wally sighed. “I’m sorry for ruining things.”

 Nightwing turned Wally’s desk chair around to stare at his older boyfriend as he folded his arms over his chest. “You didn’t. You have no idea how much I want to tell you about me,” he said with a quiet sigh, threading his fingers through his short black hair.

 “Can’t you just simply ask him if it is okay? I mean, I told you since the first day The Team was formed,” Wally reminded him in a matter-of-fact tone, shaking his head as he leaned off the headboard and crawled over to the edge of the bed. “I just…” he blushed before continuing. “I just want to see what’s behind those dark sunglasses, especially if things were to get heated again.”

 The younger man that was across from the speedster cleared his throat and shifted in his seat nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know Wally. It’s just…” Nightwing paused as he tried to think of a way to explain the situation. “It’s complicated with him. Even if I do try and talk to him it’s still going to be a no.”

 Wally studied him for a moment, trying to decide if he truly believes in what he was saying to him. Wally truly understands that the Dark Knight has strict rules when it’s about revealing their secret identity. Heck, he remembers asking his uncle if he knew who Batman truly was and even he didn’t know. He could understand the hesitation of revealing it to him. It makes him slightly wonder if there’s more to it than just the rule that Batman had created.

 “There isn’t something else is there? Perhaps another reason as to why I haven’t seen your eyes yet?” The speedster asked slowly, watching his boyfriend’s shoulders tensed up at the question. “There is… isn’t there?”

 “If people find out who we are… our enemies can use that against the people that we tell.” Nightwing told him, knowing that it was half the truth in his words. He truly wishes that Wally would drop it and they could go back to what they were doing before. However, he knows how persistent his boyfriend can be at times and he also know that he won’t drop it unless he gets a real answer.

 Wally leaned forward on the bed and stared at the younger hero, wishing that he could see what kind of facial expression he was making. He honestly wonders if his eyes were blue, or green or heck hazel. “I understand that babe,” he told him. “But I believe that there’s more to it than that. Am I right?” he asked, hiking a brow at him.

 Nightwing didn’t answer him right away and Wally knew that he was right after all. Wally nibbled at his lower lip, trying to think of a way to break the awkward silence that had followed between them. “At least tell me that you’re not a serial killer,” he says in a joking manner and his upper lip curled up when his boyfriend scoffed at him. “That’s not really an answer. I gotta know what I’m dealing with here.”

 “No, Wally. I am definitely not a serial killer,” Nightwing told him with a shake of his head. “It’s just…” There was a pause. “I don’t want you to think differently about me if you were to discover my identity,” he said to him honestly as he took a deep breath.

 Wally stared at him with wide eyes and got up from his bed to kneel in front of Nightwing. He used his thumb to lift his chin and even though he was wearing sunglasses, he knew that he was staring directly into his green eyes. “Even if you are a serial killer. It wouldn’t change the way that I feel about you, Nightwing. You can trust me. I know that I am an annoying speedster who likes to eat a lot and don’t know when to shut my mouth at times, but I do know on how to shut the fuck up when I need to. Just tell Batman that okay? Maybe then he can finally let you tell me because I am so dying to know what color your eyes are,” he leaned in to give Nightwing a chaste kiss on his lips. “I love you. So damn much.”

 Wally knows that it was rare for Nightwing to cry and when he saw a train of tears flowing from his sunglasses, he gently wipes them off with his fingers. “I love you too, Wally and…” Wally froze when he watched Nightwing reached up with shaky fingers to slowly take off his sunglasses. “And I want—”

 Wally reached up with his hands to stop Nightwing from removing them. “Babe, I don’t want you to get into trouble. If he finds out…”

 “Didn’t you just tell me a moment ago that you know when to shut the fuck up when you need to?”

 Wally pressed his lips together in a thin line and rolled his eyes at him. “Yes. But we both know how Batman is. He’s gonna know that you—”

 A pair of lips made Wally stop talking and he had moaned when Nightwing’s teeth had bit his lower lip to open it so his tongue to slip inside his mouth. Wally placed a hand onto his chest to gently push him away and licked his lips. “Are you absolutely sure you want to go against Batman’s orders?” he asked breathlessly, gulping when he saw Nightwing’s hands reached up to touch the handles of his sunglasses. “Wing.”

 Neither of them said anything to each other as Nightwing slowly took off his dark sunglasses and Wally squinted his eyes as he tried to figure out why his eyes were close and why the heck he had looked so familiar even though he has not seen his eyes yet. “You can back out anytime. I won’t be mad,” he promised him in a reassuringly way.

 “No. I want to do this. Just…don’t freak out, okay?”

 Wally cocked his head to the side in confusion by his comment and was about ask him what he had meant by that, but his question was caught in throat when Nightwing had finally open his eyes and Wally’s whole body froze when he did.

 Blue. His eyes were blue.

 It was so blue, Wally thought he was staring into an ocean and the more he stared into them deeply he was finding himself lost in them and honestly, he wouldn’t mind being lost in them and the more he had studied his boyfriend’s face the more he realized as to why he had looked so familiar to him. He had to blink several times in order to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him and even rubbed them just in case.

 “R-Richard Grayson? You’re—You’re—"

 “Actually… I prefer to be called Dick Grayson,” Dick corrected, clearing his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He sat still in the desk chair when Wally continued to stare at him in shock. “Wally—” he started, trying to come up a way to make this whole Secret Identity Reveal less awkward.

 “It makes sense,” Wally interrupted him, eyeing him up and down. “As to why the Dark Knight was so harsh on the whole ID thing…which means,” his mouth fell open as the pieces fell into place the more he had thought he had thought about it. “No way…”

 Dick Grayson knew what his older boyfriend was smart and that he had figured out the reason by himself but waited until he had said the words before saying anything else. He sucked in a deep breath when wide green eyes met his blue ones and knew what was coming next when he had opened his mouth again.

 “Bruce Wayne is Batman.”

 Wally watched Dick nod at him slightly and Wally’s mouth made a O shape in shock and Dick sucked in another deep breath as he waits for him to speak again. “You really have pretty eyes, Dick.”

 Dick blinked several times as he processed as to what the redheaded speedster just said. He was confused about his statement. Shouldn’t he be more concerned about more important matter at hand? “Is that the only thing that matters right now?” he asked, hiking up a brow at him.

 Wally scratched the top of his head as he shrugged his shoulders. “I mean did you want me to freak out over the fact that the billionaire is freaking Batman and that you’re Nightwing?” he asked him, cocking his head to the side when Dick’s shoulders stiffen. The speedster shook his head. “Because I don’t care about that kind of stuff. You know me better than that.” Wally walked closer to where Dick was at his desk and leaned in closer to him when he had brought his face closer to his. “You could be a stripper and I would still love you.”

 Dick rolled his sapphire eyes at him. “You’re such a—"

 “Sap?” Wally suggested, wiggling his eyebrows when the raven-haired hero snorted at him. He cleared his throat and leaned in to brush his nose against his boyfriend. “I’m being for real though. I would still love you. No matter what, babe.”

 “I know,” Dick said with a huge blush on his face. “And I also love you too. Thank you for accepting me.”

 “I will always accept you. Don’t forget that. Ever.”

[sweetdreamling]

assholes - ( gen avengers )

Summary: Your friends can be such assholes sometimes.

Pairing: Hints at Reader x Loki, but nothing serious.

WC: 2.3K

A/N: This is a super old one shot. Originally it was just Rhodey and Tony, but I just rewrote it and added more characters. I'm back in my marvel writing feels. Since I'm a POC myself, I mostly picture the reader like me. Though I go for gender-natural terms. Hope you like it.

"He's such a dumbass sometimes," you snicker, watching Thor try and fail to work the toaster. "But it's adorable. It's like watching a clueless golden retriever. Zero thoughts, head empty."

"That's rude, Y/N." Sam hides a smile as he walks over to Thor, helping him with his apparently "impossible" task.

"How long has Thor been on Earth now?"

Steve looks thoughtful for a moment before replying, "I think a couple of years. But, even I know how to work the toaster. I swear I've seen him use it before."

"Hmm, Loki did say Thor likes to pretend that he's a dumb blonde."

Steve rolls his eyes at the mention of Loki's name. "You're still talking to that maniac?"

You shrug, "duh, he's my friend, and sometimes you guys can be a little too much. He's my escape."

Steve raises an eyebrow as he slides a plate of chicken alfredo to you. "Why do I get the feeling you're sleeping with Loki?"

Throwing him a smirk as you picked up your fork. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not."

"I'd prefer the latter."

Sam shakes his head as he hears the conversation. "Please stop talking about him before he pops up. We don't need him to add to the chaos in the tower."

"Loki's always in the tower; you guys just don't know it."

Sam and Steve look alarmed as a grinning Thor takes a seat beside you. "Y/N is right. My brother tends to come at such odd hours, but he's in the tower daily with Y/N."

"Does Tony know this?" Steve demands.

"Oh yeah, he literally burst through my door with his suit the first time Loki appeared in the tower. We came to a compromise if you catch my drift."

Sam lets out a noise of disgust. "Okay, no. We don't want to hear about it. As a matter of fact, forget that we even brought Loki up."

Thor and Y/N share a laugh as Steve shakes his head.

The duo's laughs are cut off when Y/N's cellphone starts to ring. Everyone's confused, staring at the cellphone sitting on the counter.

It rings a few times before going quiet.

"I have no clue who'd be calling me at one am," Y/N says as the phone lights up again.

"I mean...shouldn't you answer it and see? Could be important." Steve replies.

"My parents are sleeping at this time of the night. Everyone else that's important to me is currently in the tower, Steve. I'm sure FRIDAY would let us know if anything's happened to them."

Sam snatches the phone off the counter, answering it mid-ring.

"Hello?"

"They're asking for you." He frowns before handing the phone to a confused Y/N.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you reached out, taking the phone and bringing it to your ear.

"Hello?" You questioned.

"Hello?" The unfamiliar, hushed, and husky voice rang out.

"Heard you were looking for me. Who is this?" You asked, exchanging glances with Steve, Thor, and Sam.

"Who is this?" The caller repeats your question.

"I mean, you're the one that called me. So what do you want, creep?"

The only thing you could hear from the other side of the phone was heavy breathing.

"Are you going to say anything besides breathe on the phone?" The person doesn't say anything, so you shrug, hanging up the phone.

"Who was it?" Steve asks.

"I don't have a freaking clue. All he did was breathe on the phone." You respond, going back to your dinner. There are a few minutes of silence before your phone starts ringing again. You shake your head at Bruce as he reaches for the phone again.

"Let it ring, probably the same idiot. He'll get tired eventually."

Ten minutes later, the four of you were at your wit's end. The ringing didn't stop.

"Y/N, I beg you to please answer your phone before I smash it to a thousand pieces." Thor bemoans as the phone goes off once again.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you snatch the phone back up. You placed the phone against your ear. "Hello?"

"Y/N, you know it's rude to hang up with someone. I thought you knew better than this."

You roll your eyes, "What do you want? You've called my phone nonstop for the past ten minutes!"

"I just want to talk Y/N! We can talk and become the best of friends."

"You're out of your goddamn mind. Do yourself and me a favor and stop calling my phone. I'm hanging up now." You snap, pulling the phone away from your ear.

"YOU HANG UP THIS PHONE BITCH, AND I'LL GUT YOU LIKE A FUCKING FISH!"

It was clear that Thor, Sam, and Steve heard his threat as alarmed expressions overtake their faces.

"Y/N, give me the phone," Steve says through gritted teeth.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE GIVE ROGERS THAT PHONE!"

You stare down at the phone in shock before anger takes over your expression. "Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?! I don't know who the hell you are or what the hell you want with me, but I'm telling you now to leave me the fuck alone! Come near me, and I'll be your last day alive!"

The creep begins to laugh over the phone. "Oh, Y/N....your petty little threats don't scare me. All I want to do is play a little game, and then I'll leave you alone. I promise!"

"Fuck no! Leave me the hell alone!"

The creep lets out a growl. "I want to play a game. A simple one, call it movie trivia. Answer it correctly; you and your little trio of morons will survive."

There's no warning as the lights go out, leaving the four of you in absolute darkness.

"Answer wrong; you die. Don't even bother calling for help. Your little friends and A.I. are all...out of commission."

All of you glance around and then at each other uneasily. "Don't even think about it. I'm watching your every move!"

Sam lets out a sigh. "This is a fucking nightmare."

"What the hell did you do to our teammates and FRIDAY?" Steve was gripping the counter, glaring at the phone that you'd placed on speakerphone.

"Don't worry about that. I can see you, Thor. Try summoning your precious hammer, and I slit Barton's throat!"

Thor looks disgruntled as he drops his hand. "Very well."

The creep chuckles, "That's more like it."

"I'll ask again, what the hell did you do to our teammates?!" Steve questions again.

"I can hear the desperation in your voice, Rogers. Don't worry, your pretty little heads, I haven't done anything so far. Their fates depend on you four. We win the game. and I'll let them go."

"We can't trust your word, man. We need proof." Sam says.

The creep hums, "That is true. Look for yourself."

A hologram of security footage pops up. "Say hello to your fellow avengers!"

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of your teammates, bound and gagged to chairs in a circle. Tony, Clint, Bucky, Wanda, Vision, and for some odd reason, Pepper was there as well. Clint and Tony were the only ones awakened and were frantically shaking their heads.

"You sonofabitch." Steve curse, running a hand over his face. "What do you want?"

"A simple game. Are you ready to play now?"

"YES! YES! We'll play your stupid ass game! Just don't hurt our teammates!" You say, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"That depends on how well you do with my trivia! Tell me Y/N. Do you like scary movies?"

"Yes."

The voice tutted. "Then you should be very good at this game then."

You take a deep breath, hoping your racing heart would calm down. It frightened you how easily someone snuck into the tower, basically kidnaping your teammates and holding them hostage.

"Question one, How many people does Jason kill in the first Friday the 13th film?"

You furrow your eyebrows, looking at Steve. He shrugs, looking hopeless. "I'm so sorry, but I haven't seen any horror films."

Sam snaps, making a zero with his hand. "He didn't do any killings in the first Friday the 13th movie!"

The creep hums, "who did the killing then?"

"His mother!"

"Bravo Y/N and Sam! "The voice praises the two of you.

"Question two, how many knives does Freddy Krueger have on his gloves?"

"Four. He has four!" Thor calls out.

"Yes! Good boy, Thor! It appears you aren't as stupid as I thought!" The voice laughs once again. "Next question...Which room does Dick Hallorann tell Danny to stay away from in The Shining?"

"I heard Tony mention sometimes once about room 237 as a joke. He said it came from a film called The Shining. Is that it?" Steve says.

"Is that a question or the answer, Rogers? And no, don't help him!" The voice yells as you go to tell Steve it was correct.

"I...It's the answer."

"CORRECT!" The creep gives a round of applause. "Now, last question, who is the Ghostface killer in Scream 4?"

Oh, shit, there was so much going on in the Scream series, you couldn't keep up. Besides the first two movies, you kind of gave up watching them.

The four of you were exchanging frightened and panicked looks when no one answered. You took a deep breath and said the hell with it.

"Roman Bridger!" You cried out. "It was him! Right?!"

There was silence on the other line before the creep said the words you dreaded, "Wrong answer Y/N."

The four of you were surprised when two cloaked figures appeared in front of your unconscious teammates. One head Tony's head up as the other slashes him viciously across the stomach.

"TONY!" All of you cried out as blood began pouring from his shirt, and Tony lets out muffled cries of pain, fighting against the ropes.

The two cloaked figures turned, waving at you mockingly.

"Are those Ghostface masks? We're really dealing with a fucking Ghostface copycat groupie?!" Sam says, bewildered.

"Come out and play with us!"

Your nails dig into the palm of your hands as you stare down the copycat Ghostface on the right. There was something familiar about them.

"You're going to pay for hurting our dear Anthony, you fool." Thor looks furious; the rage in his eyes was clear to see.

"You'll have to catch us first!" There was a slam of a door down the hall, and you all turn your heads in the direction.

"We were the only ones on this floor. No one knows we hang out here." Steve says, glaring down the darkened hall.

"You will need weapons Sam and Y/N. Steve and I will use our brute strength to defend ourselves. " Thor says, grabbing the skillet off the stove, handing it to you. He gives Sam the butcher knife Steve was using earlier.

You and Sam exchange glances, the message clear in your eyes. 'Did he forget we're both trained fighters and can defend ourselves weapons or not?'

Steve leads the way as you slowly creep down the dark hall. "I've got nothing-" A swift punch to the jaw cut off his words.

"HOLY SHIT! STEVE!" Sam calls out, rushing over.

"I'm fine, Sam. They came out of nowhere. They're on this floor somewhere. We've gotta look for them."

"Oh, there's no need to look for me. We're right here." Sam lets out a yelp, falling to the ground, clutching his side.

"Shit, guys were humans and can't really see that well in the dark. You're going to have to use your weird-ass super senses and find them." You say, fumbling around until you find Sam's outstretched hand. You help him sit up, leaning on you for support.

"Stop being a coward! Come out and face us!" Thor yells out.

"This shit feels like it's from a low-budget horror film," Sam mutters to himself.

You nod in agreement.

Suddenly you feel a hand on your shoulder and a voice whispering your name in, "Y/N..."

Letting out a yelp, you grab their hand, using all your strength to flip them over your shoulder.

"FUCK!" You didn't waste any time kicking the shit out of this asshole.

"YOU MESSED WITH THE WRONG AVENGER ASSHOLE!"

"Y/N! Y/N, IT'S ME! IT'S ME, SCOTT!" The cloaked figure shouts, reaching up and snatching his mask off. Scott's now bruised face stared up at you as the lights flickered back on.

You glanced up to see Thor holding Loki in a headlock and Steve scowling at Clint. Sam was frowning at Tony, who was smirking.

"There's no need to be all upset, brother. It was a mere prank; you know I've done far worse than this." Loki lets out a grunt as Thor tightens his grip.

"I recall the numerous times you've stabbed me, bitting and nearly gotten me killed. But, these are our human friends Loki, and they are far more..." Thor trails off, staring at Scott, who was holding his head.

"You guys are such fucking assholes. A prank is putting something funny and straightforward. This shit wasn't funny; it was fucking terrifying. We thought Tony had gotten stabbed! Our teammates had gotten kidnapped, and FRIDAY was harmed." Sam growls out, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

"This was out of line, guys. I'm disappointed." Steve's "I'm Disappointed In You" face and tone of voice were enough to ruin anyone's mood.

"There was no real harm done, guys. Lighten up," Tony tries to brush it off.

"No harm do-" You start before shaking your head. "No, I'm not saying anything. I've gotta go take my rage out in the training room, come on, guys." You motion for Thor, Steve, and Sam to follow you.

"We're going to prank them back, right?" Sam questions as you guys get into the elevator. '

"Oh, for sure."

[lovelyirony]

*waves* from the general part of the prompt list #7 “Is that blood?” “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” “You are literally bleeding.” for buckytony pls.

Tony doesn’t like it when the team notices that he’s injured. It’s not something that needs to be prioritized, he can (probably) deal with it just fine so long as Pepper, Happy, or Rhodey don’t find out. 

What he wasn’t expecting was Bucky to pay attention. 

Don’t get him wrong. He and Bucky are on...well. It’s not the worst term to be on. Like it’s still pretty bad. 

Really bad. 

Who the hell else would be on the term of “oh hey this guy lives with the superhero team but he killed my parents and also his best bud didn’t tell me and now we just. Live together. Kind of. We share a breakfast shelf because we’re both fans of blackberries.” 

Nobody. 

-

Rhodey tells him he’s insane. 

“If you wanted drama you could’ve just joined Happy and I watching The Bachelorette instead of just doing it yourself.” 

“You know I hate how you two watch literally the worst shows in the world.” 

“You watched a documentary on how spatulas were invented,” Rhodey deadpans. “Don’t even start with us. How is it, by the way? Is Bucky weird?” 

“Of course he’s weird!” Tony exclaims. “He’s kind of a murderer? Can you classify him as that? Because it’s a weird clarification to make.” 

“Should we ask him?” 

“You are so dense,” Tony moans. 

“I’m not dense!” Rhodey defends. 

“You just asked if we should ask the guy who we’re wondering about is a murderer if he is one.” 

“Don’t ask him that then, got it,” Rhodey mutters. “Even though technically he probably knows more about it than we do.” 

“No shit!”

- 

But back to Bucky. 

He watches Tony. 

Probably to make sure that Tony won’t kill him or Steve, which he shouldn’t be worried about. 

(Tony would never. Imagine the PR nightmare.) 

But Tony wasn’t exactly expecting it because none of the team ever had, for a variety of reasons: 

1.) They didn’t want to give Tony a big head by focusing on him at all as he already had about ten thousand other people giving him attention. 

2.) They all had their own shit to do. 

These reasons were both fine by Tony. Whatever. They allowed him a certain degree of unknowability and he could do things like sneak off when he’s injured. 

Except he can’t do that with Bucky. 

-

They had a particularly bad mission. It involved alien delegations, one betrayal, and the Iron Man suit being taken for a few rides with no charge. 

Tony got knocked around a few times, and so he has a couple of injuries. 

Spread out. 

So he avoids the debrief by citing business reasons, which is actually true, but goes to the garage to patch up the wounds before Pepper sees him and is concerned and gets sad and guilt-ridden, and then he in turn gets guilt-ridden and she gets him to sign paperwork for a nation-wide company pizza party. 

(She’s devilish that way.) 

What he wasn’t expecting was Bucky to follow him. 

He doesn’t know what the hell kind of answer he gave to Maria that sounded decent, but he’s staring at Tony. 

“Is that...is that blood?” Bucky asks. 

“I mean yeah, but that’s not important right now, what’s important is-” 

“You’re bleeding,” he interrupts. “You’re literally bleeding in three different places and it doesn’t matter to you?” 

“Well...it’s fixable?” 

“Why didn’t you go to the medbay?” 

“I don’t need to?” Tony asks. 

“Oh, so you just what, sew this up yourself?” 

“Well I did take home ec in high school,” Tony muses. 

“Bullshit,” Bucky said. “Bet you had maids to do all that shit, there’s no way you took home ec.” 

“And why not?” Tony says. “Are you seriously going to doubt my own choices?” 

“You’re trying to change the subject.” 

“Let’s keep this thing going, I’m liking where this was headed,” Tony says. 

“You’re good at this, aren’t you?” Bucky asks. “Changing the subject and making sure people never pay attention to what’s really going on? Sure you didn’t take magician classes instead of the home ec shit?” 

“Barnes, babe, if I wanted to die a virgin I would’ve done literally anything else besides that. Does magic turn you on?” Tony asks, eyebrows knitting together. “Pulling your card out of a deck get you hot under the collar? I could work with that.” 

“You’re not gonna be working with anything but medical supplies,” Bucky says, moving closer as he hands him gauze. “Here.” 

“Uh-uh, you’re gonna have to get closer than that,” Tony says. 

“...do you even want me to?” 

“Do you think I can reach the center in between my shoulder blades?” 

“...fair point.” 

Tony’s skin isn’t smooth. Bucky supposes he should’ve expected that. Working with metal almost all his life, he’d have scars and reminders of that. 

It’s odd. 

Terrifying. 

“I know you’re not gonna kill me,” Tony says. “And I’d rather not bleed out on the garage floor. It’s kind of depressing.” 

“Then I’ll bring something to lighten the mood next time,” Bucky says sarcastically. “Maybe a pillow? A candle?” 

“Oh fuck off and finish the gauze,” Tony snaps back. 

-

It’s...odd. The dynamics of it. They’re both absolute assholes who would rather die than admit they need help, except in the case of each other. 

This eventually navigates itself into other aspects of their lives. Tony lectures Bucky on his “only snack food” habit while cooking him dinner and finishing off the last of the carrots and hummus, while Bucky argues about how he never cares for himself while shoving at least four water bottles towards him. 

“This is the most aggressive dating ritual I’ve ever seen,” Nat whispers to Thor. 

“We are not dating!” Tony says. “We are...” His eyes widen as he turns to Bucky. 

“Are we...?” 

“Um, yeah? I guess?” 

Bruce groans from across the room. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, why would you have any doubts about who protects this world?” 

Bucky hauls Tony out of the room, ranting about something having to do with “boyfriend duties and the proper hydration obligation.” 

[miss-choco-chips]

Umm... I was wondering if you could Maybe do a follow up on your mini fic Last Line from dicks pov? It gave me alot of feelings and i would love to see the fallout?

Your work is really good! Its so cool how your brave enough to put pieces of yourself out there for other people!

Hey babe! Thank you for your kind words! It made me smile getting this, you are very sweet <3

I totally forgot about Last Line lol, but when I saw it reminded me that I actually wrote a bit more of it, both before and after the scene I posted. So, this isn’t exactly what you asked, but here’s some backstory and then the fallout!

---.---

Four years old, and he watches the red string on his finger pulled taunt towards the crying boy, the color of the thread well disguised among the red blood of the murdered acrobats.

Nine, and he watches from the shadows as it swings right and left, following Robin’s pirouettes from building to building. The thread, that usually goes a few feet before ‘vanishing’ from sight, was almost completely visible now, at such a short distance from the person holding onto its other end.

He’s on his twelve when he tries to explain to Dick the importance of him going back home. He wasn’t sure of his success, even though the older hero took him to the manor, because during his whole speech, Nightwing hadn’t looked up from the red joining them together. It wasn’t exactly how Tim wanted him to find out, but… Batman needed a Robin, and he was out of options.

At fourteen, he feels Kon’s hand clenching on his shoulder, as they both watch from the side how Nightwing swept Barbara off her feet and twisted her around, laughter falling from both their lips even as Dick thread’s end was pointing towards Tim. The third Robin didn’t turn to look at his best friend, didn’t meet Bart’s eyes or react to Cassie taking his hand on hers. He just made sure his face was perfectly devoid of any emotion when he muttered, low enough only a kryptonian would hear, ‘I wish it was any of you’. 

(A few nights later, when he and Conner were sitting quietly on the Tower’s roof, the clone took Tim’s hand with his own, his lack of red string blatantly obvious as he said ‘If I had any, I wish it could be you’. To this day, it’s the sweetest thing anyone ever said to him)

He is so, so tired, and he’s only sixteen. But keeping up with the shitfest that was the Battle for the Cowl, helping Dick while ignoring his red string (pulling him towards Nightwing, now Batman, stark contrast against the dark of his suit, with distracting insistency), dealing with Damian’s abuse as expected of him as the ‘mature, older brother’, coping with Bruce’s death, the shock of Dick throwing him, his soulmate, away so so easily…

(Shouldn't be surprising; Dick had been discarding him in favor of others since they met, shamelessly displaying his various relationships in front of him with an attitude that might be called cruel from anyone else but that just earned him playful shoves from other Leaguers while Tim was expected to swallow his pain, because a red string isn’t a promise, Dick is free… and yes, he knows that, but it doesn’t mean shit to his dying heart)

(Maybe, when he left for proof of Bruce being alive, it wasn’t so much for his old mentor than it was for himself)

----.----

Tim is seventeen and halfway across the world, looking at the string attached to his hand that never truly meant anything to any other than him (not to Bruce, who never took Dick aside and talked to him about consideration with his soul mate; not Dick's conquers, who never gave a fuck  about the red string in the hands that touched their skin, even when a lot of them knew who was on the other end of it; not Dick himself, who after asking every thing out of Tim and having it, forcefully took the one thing Tim wouldn't give by choice and claimed Tim was his equal, his soulmate, so he never could be his sidekick... even if it was the first time ever that Dick even mentioned the string tying them both together), when he thinks 'you were always free; now, I'm freeing myself’.

He gingerly bites on the string, and with his other hand takes a handful of it and pulls.

The pain piercing his heart is expected, but not new. He had been feeling it since the first time he saw Dick's back as he walked away with someone else.

He times it carefully, too. He doesn't think Dick would care, but just in case, Tim waits until it's morning in Gotham, when he's sure Dick is probably sleeping after patrol.

Maybe he would wake up without noticing

---.---

In Gotham, Dick is carried by Alfred and Damian to the cave, when the new Batman's screams of pain woke everyone in the Manor up. They are suspecting cardiac arrest, and then Dick looks down to his hand and notices the string, always tense, signaling him where his north is, where Tim is, laying loose and lifeless.

He panics, asks Superman to track Tim down or something, and when the man confirms Tim is still alive somewhere in the Middle East, he knows.

And like a freight train, the parting words Kori told him the last time they saw each other hit him right in the chest.

"He isn't going to wait for you forever"

----.-----

When Tim does come back, at nineteen, it’s a quiet thing. 

He spent the last how many days carefully setting his systems up, making sure his mainframe would outstand Oracle’s scrutiny when she realized he was back in town and tried to hack her way into his life.

(He didn’t blame her, of course not. Dick was charming enough, good enough, anyone he set his eyes into would be helpless to nothing but fall in his arms.

And, wasn’t Tim the one who would have been intruding, had he tried to chase after the first Robin? Everyone knew he and the original Batgirl were a perfect match, thousands of times better than Tim, whom Fate just wanted to screw over.

But not anymore)

The first thing he did, once the safe houses were chosen and his programs up and running, was to ruthlessly hack into the Batcomputer and take a look at patrol routes. 

He would need to keep clear of Diamond District and Old Gotham, least he risked crossing paths with B and R. The Financial and City Hall Districts were apparently Batgirl’s playground for the night, and if he wanted to drop by and let Cass know he was back, he could always search for her by the Upper West Side down to Chinatown.

He would avoid the Upper East Side like the plague, though. Maybe Coventry too, just to be safe. Lots of skintight blue in that direction.

Which left… Crime Alley, the Bowery and Burnley, mainly. He needn't check to know who’s house that was.

And that’s how he ended, on his very first night back on the streets, dragging Red Hood’s bleeding ass away from a blowing up building.

-----.-----

Apparently, saving a recently rehabilitated murderous vigilante was a bonding experience, because Jason didn’t kick him out of his side of town, nor tell on him. 

He couldn't, however, do anything to prevent the criminal gossip mile from spreading, and before a week had passed, half the city was aware of the new player on the board.

-----.------

Jason was taking a breather, smoking while sitting on his favorite rooftop, when the rustling sound of fabric told him his peace and quiet was over.

“I thought you were back at being N”, he greeted, not bothering to turn around or get up. 

“B was out of town, and Robin needed someone to watch over him during patrol.”

A quick glance around had Hood snorting, “Then y’re doing a shitty job. Don’t see the midget anywhere.”

It would never NOT be weird to hear a strangled laugh coming out of the Bat suit, as tight and humorless as it was now. It seemed big ol Dick wasn’t doing so great tonight.

“Batgirl took him to a party in Diamond District. Gang war.”

He humms in response, not bothering to keep on the smalltalk. N, no, B was here for something, and it wasn’t Jason’s job to ask it out of him; if it was important, he would do it himself.

“Where is him, Hood?”, he finally went to the heart of the matter. 

Jason tilted his head, still looking over his city, unmindful of the steps coming closer to his position, “Robin? Ya just said it, B. Going senile? Gang war, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t play around. You know I mean…”

Oh, yeah, Dickie still wasn’t sure what to call Timbo. Criminal gossip only went so far, for someone who didn’t bother to shout his hero name to everyone he beat up. It was very possible only  Jason was aware of his new monicker. All gothamites knew was a young vigilante showed up recently, wearing red and black and hanging out with the Hood, which immediately upped his street rep to ‘not to be fucked with’.

“Lil red?”, he completed for his older brother, feeling both charitable and petty. Batman’s wince was more evident by the rustling sound of his cape; he had hit a sore spot, hadn’t he? 

“Where? I’m not asking again.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not answering. Must be ‘roundere somewhere, the little creep.”

“Hood, I’m running out of patience.”

“And I’m out of cigarettes, your point? I don’t have him on a leash asshole. We just share the same hunting space, it’s not like we go home together and do face masks while we talk about feelings.”

They did go to a safespot, though, and share beer and pizza while cursing their relatives and Fate as a whole, but it wasn’t necessary information for the fucker. He just breathed in the last of his smoke before dropping the cigarette butt and stepping on it, stretching as he did.

“Now, any more of this riveting conversation, or can I go? No, wait, it was a rhetorical question; get out of my part of town, ass. I’ve been plenty generous by letting you come this far, but our truce lasts as long as the lot of you don’t build any sandcastles on my playground and you know it. Now, scram.”

He could feel Dick’s reticence at leaving without what he came here for, but Oracle must be talking him into letting it be for tonight, because he didn't push. Jason turned just in the right moment to catch the way Dick looked down to his gloved hand, as if expecting the lifeless red string to be pulled taunt in Tim’s direction by some miracle. Jason felt the smallest ping of pity, quickly washed away by the memory of the younger hero’s haunted eyes as he told Jason the story of his severed soul bond and how he came to do it.

Thirty seconds after the bat vanished into the night, a little red bird landed softly on the spot next to him.

“Thanks, Hood”, he muttered, just as tired and hurting as he’d been ever since he saved Jason’s ass and they became partners, but with the smallest hint of lightness that made him prouder of driving Dick away than he’d ever been.

“Don’t mention it, but fair warning, the big B scomin back home in a few days, and he’s harder to kick out than a hurting, annoying bluebird.”

“I know”, Tim sighed, well aware of both facts. “I’ll play it by ear. For tonight, what about bashing some skulls and ruining Two Face’s new op? Good intel says it’s just a few blocks from here, and shattering bones always makes you smile.”

“Babybird, you speak the language of love.”

“Wasn’t that french?”

“I’m trying to compliment you, don’t be a smart ass about it.”

“I am smart, and I do have a good ass. That seems like an impossible request.”

----.----

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Soulmarks, Part 8

First part

Previous

~~~

Marinette and Adrien stared at the wall of text in front of them blankly. Bruce was giving them a lecture on every villain -- sorry, Rogue -- in Gotham. There was… a lot of them, to say the least.

French scrolled past her eyes and she rested her head in her hands, not even bothering to look at the words anymore.

“Hey, Bats, I have a question...” said Tim, who had just walked into the Batcave for work.

He’d not given up vigilantism entirely, just fieldwork, and they were all just glad he hadn’t immediately jumped back into patrols. They were perfectly happy to allow him to sit back at the computers and talk to them over comms as long as he communicated when things were becoming too much.

Which is probably what the heroes should have done about ten minutes ago when they’d been struggling to wrap their heads around why a guy with a scar over half his body was so feared in Gotham. They took so long wondering about this that they got left behind and what do you mean there’s a sentient mud monster running around --?

She was pulled from her thoughts as Dick grabbed her and Adrien by the backs of their shirts and gently dragged them away.

She blinked. “Um --?”

“Shh! Do you want to escape or not?” He chided quietly.

She hesitated and glanced at Tim, finally beginning to understand what was going on. He was distracting Bruce so they could escape. She caught his eyes briefly and he made a tiny shooing motion with his hands before nodding and responding to something his father said.

She and Adrien gave each other looks. Sure, it was certainly a lot to take in at once, but it was all pretty important information if they wanted to start doing patrols…

They allowed Dick to lead them along. They were hard-working, sure, but they were still fourteen.

~

He raised his eyebrows at her as she stepped into his room, hugging a skateboard.

“Are you on ‘what does Tim still like to do’ duty for today, then?”

She huffed lightly. “I could just be doing this because I want to get to know my soulmate, you know.”

“Is that so?”

She chose not to answer, holding up the skateboard for him to see. “Tada!”

“I could buy one myself, you know. I have one, actually. Somewhere.”

She shrugged. “I know, I tried to learn a while back when I saw the soulmark. Don’t get what’s so fun about falling on your face, but if you enjoy…ed it then you should at least try and get back into it.”

He gave a small smile. “If you fall on your face a lot you’re doing it wrong.”

“Really? I thought faceplanting was the goal.”

“No, no, not quite.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Would you like me to teach you?”

She mimicked his posture with a cheeky grin. “You just want to see me fall.”

He shrugged. “Possibly.” He waved her along with a tiny grin on his face.

She followed after him and he walked backwards to make sure she didn’t get lost in the house.

He’d overheard a few horror stories from Adrien about how clumsy she was when she wasn’t in her Ladybug costume and he just had to know whether or not it was true. He’d seen her fight as Ladybug, she’d been pretty much perfect then, there was no way…

Unless there was.

And she literally didn’t even need to be on the skateboard to take a tumble.

She tripped over air and probably would have taken Tim down with her if he hadn’t been a little prepared. He caught her waist and pulled her close to him, giving a cheeky grin as her face crashed into his chest.

She looked up at him slowly and a blush spread across her face. “Hi,” she squeaked.

Tim laughed softly. “Hi.” He let go now that she had regained her footing, taking a step back.

She brushed herself off and coughed awkwardly. “Right. That didn’t happen.”

“Did it not?” He continued leading her along. “How is someone as clumsy as you a superhero?”

She gave him a pout. “I didn’t use to be.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Really! Being Ladybug means I have to have a lot of luck, and, I guess to balance it out, when I’m not Ladybug my luck just gets awful.”

He guessed that kind of made sense.

Still, it was kind of funny, and he wasn’t going to pass up on an opportunity to see just how awful her luck could get.

And so he took her outside and attempted to teach her how to skateboard. He really did put some effort in, he thought it would be kind of cool to have someone to skate with, but he was quickly realizing that she just might be unteachable as he watched her fall yet again.

This time, she didn’t get up, laying in the grass with a sour look on her face.

He leaned over her with a grin. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “This is impossible.”

He shrugged. “It takes practice. You’re not going to be good at it immediately.”

“What if I want to be good at it immediately, though?”

“Then you’re going to be disappointed.” He flashed her a grin, holding out a hand for her to get up. “C’mon. I said I was going to teach you and you’re not going to learn from down there. Let’s try again.”

“Why are you even bothering? I’m hopeless.”

“Well, that’s no way to look at it, now is it? And you’re improving. Now you can at least step on the skateboard without falling.” He hesitated. “Besides, even if you were hopeless at this, everyone’s gotta be bad at something.”

She stared at him for a long time, her face slowly reddening.

And then she pulled herself together enough to glare at him. “We’re doing something you’re terrible at tomorrow, then.”

“Not exactly the reaction I was going for but…”

He thought about it for a minute, his mind wandering over the different soulmarks he’d had. He wasn’t going to let her win without a fight, of course, so this took some careful thinking. Baking and sewing were off the table, he was a disaster at that… Gaming shouldn’t be too difficult, though. He used a computer a lot. Surely, there was no real difference, right?

“How about video games?”

She broke into a grin and finally took his hand. He pulled her to her feet.

“Video games sounds good.”

~

She tossed a controller at him.

He caught it and raised his eyebrows. “You were serious?”

“Yes, I was serious!”

And she was going to make sure that he lost. Usually, when she knew that people were going to be bad at it, she would at least go easy on them and let them win a bit. Not with him, though. There would be no mercy.

He dropped his controller with a groan, the millionth ‘Player One Wins!’ proudly displayed on the screen.

She set her controller beside herself and smirked at him.

“You’re cheating.”

“Maybe you’re just terrible.”

He rested his head back against his headboard, glaring at the controller in his lap. “I take back that ‘everyone is bad at something’ thing. I am not allowed to be bad at things. I’m going to devote my entire life to beating you at this… ‘Ultimate Mecha Strike III’ thing.”

“Well, then you shouldn’t have told me. I’m going to practice night and day. You will never catch up.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. He smiled despite himself.

He picked up his controller again and pressed the start button. She squeaked and scrambled for her own controller.

“That’s cheating!” She whined as she finally managed to grab ahold of it and started playing.

He lost. Again.

She smiled widely, turning to look at him. He wasn’t sulking like she expected (and maybe wanted), he was just watching her with his head on his hand, a tiny smile playing at his lips.

She blushed and looked away. “Can’t believe you had a headstart and you still lost.”

He snapped out of it a bit, sending her a half hearted glare. “You’re banned from my house.”

She grinned and scooted closer to him on the bed.

“Fine. I guess I can teach you a few tricks.”

~

Tim didn’t really keep close track of his soulmarks, to be honest.

Sure, he always found them cute, but he never actively looked for them. He’d done it for a while, but it had only ended in him feeling disappointed when he didn’t find anything new (because new soulmarks only popped up around once every few months for him). He’d decided that it was just a hassle and had chosen to just let himself find them when he found them.

So that was why, when he saw his name on his chest, he was completely taken off guard.

His face burned red as he looked at the script. Tim Drake. He ran his finger along it, almost expecting it to rub off like ink from a particularly awful prank…

But it didn’t.

He dropped back onto his bed and tried to fight back the growing smile on his face.

~~~

Next part

Taglist

@pawsitivelymiraculous @golden-promises @salty-fang @kitsunebell @sassakitty @octobitch @glastwime859 @miyla-lokidottir @onlyabatfan @ira-sairain @2confused-2doanything @ultimatetornshipper @ladybug-182 @laurcad123 @we-want-mini-mini @roguishredaxion @just-reblogs-by-h @futursworld @magic-miraculous @nathleigh @smolplantmum @vroomtaka  @emimar7 @toodaloo-kangaroo @charme-de-malchan @spicybelladonna

[demigoddreamer]

Addressing Batman’s Abuse

Damian: I killed someone

Bruce(and the rest of the batfamily but mostly bruce): It’s ok it’s because of your childhood, you were raised to be an assassin as long as you didn’t murder anyone innocent and do better next time

Dick: I killed someone

Bruce: well i saved them didn’t count bye

Tim: I killed someone

Bruce: Seriously Tim? ok I’m kinda disappointed but i’ll be ok in a little bit(actually idk cause I can’t recall if tim ever killed someone)

Jason: I killed someone

Bruce: HOW DARE YOU BREAK THE NO KILL RULE YOU LITTLE PIECE OF **** WE HAVE MORALS YOU’RE JUST ANOTHER CRIMINAL, A MURDERER, A MONSTER YOU LET THEM WIN IF YOU KILL

Alright enough with the jokes let’s get serious, let’s talk about the abuse. I have a lot to unpack and if you’re like me who doesn’t have the patience to read long things if they don’t matter then i’m sorry . I can read school stuff but fanfiction more than like 30 chapters irritates me which is stupid because I love to read but the human brain is A FUCKING ANNOYING HYPOCRITE. I love the batbros with all my heart and we hate to see bad stuff happen to them. but Bruce...he can get away with hurting the people who he should see as sons and who in turn consider him a father figure. He is essentially taking advantage of their love for his cause. Because the most important thing is batman and the mission which he will hold above his own children, the people in his life who care about him and support him in his insane crusade. Batman is someone who is consumed by this darkness that causes him to sacrifice everything for the mission. It is stated multiple times that his Robins are supposed to be better than him, they’re not needed as assistants in the battlefield but rather emotional support as they bring a little light to Bruce's pain and vengeful darkness. The Robins become better people than Bruce. 

There are obvious examples of Bruce’s abuse such as his second Robin now Red Hood Jason Todd. Now I may be biased as he is my favorite but I love all the robins dearly so FREAKING much. Jason is constantly remembered as Batman’s greatest failure. Why is that? we are led to believe it’s because Bruce didn’t save him but really it’s because Jason didn’t fall in line with Batman’s code which is where we see the flaws in Batman’s philosophy. Why doesn’t Batman just kill the Joker? Jason makes some very valid points saying that all Joker does is cause pain and he keeps breaking out of prison and causing more pain and it’s a vicious cycle, a revolving door that Batman refuses to end. Joker and Batman are almost obsessed with each other. But Batman refuses to kill Joker saying if he does he can’t come back and Joker will win. It’s a war between numbers and moral high ground. But in reality who cares if Joker wins? It’s vague what does it even mean? Joker keeps on killing and if he was gone the world would be safer? It doesn’t matter if he wins as long as people live. Jason Todd is someone who is constantly hurt by the people who are supposed to love him. An example of this is Batman choosing to save Joker rather than his own son in the Under the Red Hood storyline. Jason is clearly heartbroken over the fact that Bruce refuses to kill the person who MURDERED HIM saying “I thought I’d be the last person you ever let him hurt” Jason obviously has lots of trauma PTSD depression and he probably just wants to feel safe pleading with Bruce to just kill Joker that’s it saying “doing it because he took me away from you” which Batman refuses just saying I can’t. 

Now there’s other instances that make my blood boil such as Batman and Robin #20. Damian died in Batman Inc. and obviously since Bruce can’t ever deal with pain in a healthy constructive way, he goes full dark and rage and sadness. He becomes desperate to bring Damian back, being abusive to Tim even when Batman tried to experiment on Frankenstein to bring Damian back and Tim blew the lab up. But Jason...oh god...Bruce wants Jason on a mission in Ethiopia to bring the people who tried to kill Damian justice . (Talia put a bounty on his head) and then Jason agreed, excited at the chance of working with someone he considers a father again. Jason has ceased his killing he has calmed down from when he tried to hurt them all, his mind was damaged by the lazarus pit and he went insane with pain and rage. From my pseudo psychologist perspective I think he thought hurting them would make his pain cease if he tried to hurt the things that caused his pain it would fix him. Anyway Jason is on kinder terms with them but it’s still rough. They’re not all that kind with him sure he’s made mistakes but they all have and he’s really sorry about it. Anyway after taking those bad guys down they talk about family and trust and faith. Then...Bruce does it and reveals the real reason why they came to Ethiopia. Bruce wanted to bring Jason to the place he DIED. WHERE THERE IS A BUTT TON OF TRAUMA. Jason is just so shocked at first he stands there looking numb. He isn't even angry yet. He stands there feeling the pain of that horrible day saying”You lied to me. this wasn't about taking down those mercenaries. You wanted to bring me here..to the worst place in the world...and here I was starting to believe all your crap about trust and faith” He sounds broken which he is he’s been broken by so many people and now Bruce who isn’t supposed to break him just did by taking advantage of him and bringing him to somewhere of horrible trauma. Bruce reveals that he brought Jason here so he could figure out how to bring Damian back to life explaining “Those killers were the mission but this was something else something I couldn’t ignore I thought bringing you here could jog your memory-maybe retrieve a buried buried deep in your subconscious that could help piece together how you came to life so I” and Jason finishes this saying “-could apply it to getting Damian back. Yeah I get it. Did it ever occur to you I might like keeping whatever the hell happened to me buried deep?”Obviously, Jason doesn’t want to relieve his trauma, he doesn’t want to deal with what happened to him a second time. He just wants to move on but Bruce won’t let him. Bruce doesn’t seem to acknowledge Jason’s trauma nor does he seem to care for his well being. “If you cared about me, you wouldn’t want me to dredge up the one thing I've been trying to forget. I don’t want to remember the most horrific day of my life, all right? You may like wallowing in your tragedies but I’m done looking back” which is true all Batman does is sit in the pain of his parents death and he can’t heal like and he spreads pain to others at this rate the dead parents excuse gets a little old. BUT THEN BRUCE HAS THE AUDACITY TO SAY “If you cared about me and what I’ve lost, you’d want to dredge this up! Don’t you see-there’s a chance you can help me erase one of the worst days of my life. You can give me the greatest gift of all and help me figure out how to bring my son back!” Here he uses a lot of pronouns referring to himself, CARED ABOUT ME, I’VE LOST, HELP ME, MY LIFE, GIVE ME, HELP ME, MY SON. Yes Bruce, make it all about you, cause we definitely want you too. You’re a grown ass man and Jason is the more mature person here, honestly all the Robins learn to process grief and heal and grow and they’re just generally better people. Bruce is basically saying I care more about Damian than I care about you and my needs are greater than yours so screw your feelings, your feelings don’t matter. He really only seems to care about himself and he wants to erase his own pain. He doesn’t even seem to consider what Damian would want and what being brought back to life would do to him. Jason knows what it’s like, the pain of it, he’s probably the only person who would understand why someone wouldn’t want to come back. After All of this Bruce doesn’t even apologize and makes some half assed promise for unconditional truth but Jason still accepts this and helps Bruce get Damian’s body back from Darkseid even though he didn’t have to. 

Also there’s battle of the cowl which I desperately try to ignore but what I can tell Bruce *cough* died *cough* at this rate whenever Bruce dies or some crap I’m like ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT??? But sorry back to the topic. Bruce had a message for Jason for everyone else was just like I hope you’re doing well I love y’all live your life for JASON HOWEVER. He was all like you’re a failure not because I didn’t save you but because I don’t like how you turned out. Also you have problems, you’re mentally ill(I know but don’t have to be so awful about it)and there’s a secret I shouldn’t have kept and bye. And he suggests help but WHY DIDN’T HE GET JASON HELP WHEN HE WAS YOUNGER HMMMMM? It’s so obvious Jason’s childhood is full of abuse of course he has bad mental health and all that jazz. Also he puts Jason in Arkham where the Joker is 5 DOORS DOWN. I don’t think I have to say anything but they could literally put him in ANY OTHER PRISON. Why this one idk?

Bruce beat Jason and was probably about to kill Jason in RHATO #25. All beacuse Jason shot penguin and since Red Hood is a criminal blah blah blah Bruce has to do something. Actually he doesn’t as he just assumes Jason killed him which he didn’t also he didn’t seem to consider mind control or clones or whatever and he thought it was a good idea to beat the crap out of his sons. Jason even points this out”You are a character, I’ve never seen you beat Joker that hard and you hate him”...Bruce is beating him harder than the Joker. BRUCE IS BEATING HIS GODDAMN SON, SO HE HATES HIS SON MORE THAN JOKER??? Here we see how Bruce constantly chooses Joker over Jason.

Let's also talk about Dick his first son (I love my circus boi). After Jason died *sob*(i’m gonna cry) Dick is pretty darn sad and Bruce didn’t tell him shit so he’s obv like hey what’s the deal and BRUCE HAS THE AUDACITY TO BE MAD AT DICK. and he tries to kick Dick out of his life and be like leave your key get outta my face and he punched Dick LIKE BOI YOU DIDN’T TELL HIM ABOUT THE FUNERAL OR THE FACE THAT JASON DIED. We already knew it was bad because Bruce and Dick argued like my parents argue which is pretty bad. Lo and behold Bruce doesn’t apologize.

Also Nightwing #30 after Dick was outed as Nightwing and fake died on telelvision. Bruce used like WAAAAAAY excessive force. They were sparring but it got real violent real fast. And Nightwing wasn’t in the right mindset he was traumatized and Bruce totally took advantage of him by asking him to work for Spyral which Dick obv didn’t want to do but Bruce fucking FORCED that crap onto him after something as awful as that and he probably knew Dick would give in eventually that bastard. No, Bruce doesn’t apologize either.

Most recently Batman #71...now see this is Tim’s turn and I love my big brain boi Tim... and when you love a fictional character you know something bad is gonna happen. Bruce’s abuse, it’s kinda worse cause he’s a fucking KID. now Bruce be like let’s meet and shit so most of them are there and some evil villain is doing their thang and Tim is tryin be nice comforting Bruce, telling him that Tim will always be there and that Tim will help AND BRUCE FUCKING PUNCHED HIM. HE WAS JUST TRYIN BE NICE AND HELP YOU FEEL BETTER YOU POS. Now do we see Bruce apologize? NOOOOO. What did you expect? Honestly it’s not that hard it’s a simple sentences even a dumbass like you can manage it

Now I’m not totally familiar with any abuse on Damian but it’s there. Bruce is allergic to emotions, and it’s hard for him to be emotionally supportive and show any affection whatsoever. Showing any semblance of pride to Damian is like me trying to do pushups it’s FUCKING impossible for Bruce to show any compassion toward his son whatsoever (seriously though push ups are a pain in the ass I’m not athletic whatsoever why do you think I waste my time venting on tumblr the only thing I’m good for is being the smart kid in school and even then some people outshine me in that.)...sad but I’m not here to complain about that. Anyway Dick is a BAMF and openly shows Damian hey i’m proud of you and I love you. IT’S NOT THAT HARD BRUCE.

Bruce can’t ever be happy, he doesn’t let himself be happy because he can’t move on from that tragedy that happened to him. And he doesn’t allow anyone around him to be happy either. Shown as when Dick is like hey I can be in love with someone and we can be long term we can be happy together. BRUCE BE LIKE NUH HUH VIGILANTES CAN’T BE HAPPY WE HAVE TO SACRIFICE FOR THE MISSION. Let your son be FUCKING HAPPY. I know I sound like I hate him and maybe I do a bit but I don’t think he’s like completely Joker evil and irredeemable. I just can’t deal with how DC handles abusers like Bruce and having characters enable this behavior. We need to know that Bruce’s behavior is not ok and his children are completely numb to it, it’s normal to them and it’s disgusting. Bruce needs repercussions and he needs to know that he can’t do that to kids who love and trust him.

LINK TO PART 2:

https://demigoddreamer.tumblr.com/post/639314330465222656/addressing-batmans-abuse-part-2

If a loved one is hurting you reach out and seek help. You deserve the world

[brudick]

I don't know if Baptism of Fire will ever be updated and that's fine (no, not fine, but I respect your choice ;( ) but if you never write for it, can you if you have a chance, give the avid readers an outline how it would have ended or closure to it.

Alright let me give yall the skinny on this, let me let yall know exactly what's going on.

A long long time ago, long before the superbowl-- okay I'm sorry let me get serious. Back in the day, I used to update fairly regularly, about once a week? Up until the point I moved out of state and my life routine was switched up. Now this switch up included a jump from just being a solo writer, to joining some role play communities.

I never imagined or intented to stop posting, in fact this was the main story that I've always wanted and still do, to finish. But as I was swept into other aspects of my adult life and other pastimes, it became longer and longer between the gaps of when I would spend mental time in this world. As the time crept by, there came a shame to it as well. A feeling of letting all my readers who's reactions and enjoyment of my work I truly cherished and love down. (Really yall were amazing for my self esteem and belief in myself as a writer and I'm forever thankful.)

Now here we sit, and it's been years, i can't shy away from that, it sucks. I dropped the ball on one of my biggest passion pieces, and large parts of me honestly moved on. Not all of me though, because really, how could I? So much of my waking time before had been spent in this little universe and love letter I created for two of my favorite characters.

As I'm sure you can tell, the point I left off was sort of...tense in the story. Really it's what I would consider the shifting point to the final third of this main storyline between Bruce and Dick. Which lowkey, as a writer scares me a bit. But more importantly, it's the large gap of time since I've deeply written for this story combined with how large it is. I've tried to reread Abof multiple times, but oh dear is it hard to reread your own work. I keep getting caught up in details and re-editing or just well overwhelmed.

I want to finish this story. And I have not only a decent sense for how the ending goes, but uh technically a few sequel works I originally thought about creating, all stuck up in my head. But I sit here, weirdly terrified of continuing? Terrified that I'll have forgotten details my readers think are important, that I'll focus too much time and words on storylines you don't care about, or I'll drop some of the side storylines that you do and that that'll be worse. I just don't have the luxury of rereading it in its whole a couple of times again, I've tried and tried but I've failed time and time again. And maybe this is all really just some big lesson to myself, in how I shouldn't be so caught up on how other people perceive how I continue the story. (And I promise, for whatever my word is worth after all this time, that I have started drafting out this last third.)

Honestly? And if you've read this far on my lengthy, not even what you asked for reply here, you a real one. But I would be blessed if anyone out there that has this fresh in mind and heart would be willing to send me what they thought were the highlights, the important bits and moments that they feel are vital to the next phase and yes, I'll even be a sport about you saying what you don't think is necessary.

I could really use some other perspective, I can't and won't promise that I will listen and abide by what anyone says, but I would read through it and really really appreciate the help and perspective into this monster.

I'm sorry, I know this is kind of stupid and really not what anyone asked for. But it is me being painfully honest. Though if everyone would rather I posted more just my outlines and where this was going and how it would all end, let me know and I'll consider going that route instead. I just would really rather finally push myself back into writing and posting regularly until it's finished.

[aceofshitposts]

Happy Valentines Day everyone!!! This wasnt actually what I initially planned and it technically... isn’t v-day themed but it DOES feature idiots in love so that’s good enough, right? No beta we die like robins okay hope you enjoy! (will probably throw this up on ao3 tomorrow too)

ALSO a reminder that you can totally send me prompts for little drabbles/ficlets!! a sentence or dialogue or just an au you think might be cool (i adore aus) or if you just wanna say hi!

-

Jason's not stupid. It's just that. Things can sneak up on you sometimes, okay? They all have that habit of getting lost in the details or not looking for what isn’t expected. And boy, is this not expected.

"Please," Tim is imploring in the same tone a child asks their parent for a candy bar at the grocery store checkout, "Bruce isn't even going to be there so you don't have to worry about him."

That's. Really not the problem. The problem is Jason has no idea why Tim is asking him, of all people. Not that he doesn't like hanging out with Tim, as a matter of fact he probably likes it too much. Seeking Tim out had become a bad habit, if he’s honest, that has escalated from working on cases together to eating meals after patrol and even occasionally meeting up during the day to whisk Tim away from the office for a proper lunch.

They're friends, right? But that doesn't explain why Tim is inviting him to an important social gathering and not, say, one of the Titans if he needs a second that badly. Hell, Dick or Stephanie are better choices than Jason is. Asking Jason is. Is. It’s-

It feels a little like Tim’s asking him on a date. Which is absurd for all kinds of reasons, least of which is that Tim doesn’t like Jason like that.

"Why are you asking me?"

Jason winces. That sounded harsh even to him and the way Tim’s expression goes from distinctly hurt to completely closed off has Jason cringing even more.

“Okay,” Tim says, turning towards the open window.

“Okay?” Jason repeats, already forgetting that Tim hasn’t answered his question.

“Mhmm, don’t worry about it,” he says in a tone that suggests Jason should absolutely worry about it.

With that Tim slips out the window and into the early Gotham morning, leaving Jason with an extra breakfast burrito that they’d never even got around to eating before Tim had… whatever the hell that had been. Jason stares at the open window for a moment more, the wind blowing a napkin into his face, and decides he’ll deal with it after sleeping.

-

“What the hell did you do??”

If the sound of Jason’s bedroom door violently hitting the wall didn’t wake Jason up then Stephanie’s indigent yelling would have done the job just fine.

“What the hell do you want?” Jason asks, then shoves a pillow over his head in the vain hopes she will go away.

“Get up!”

The covers are pulled from his body which wouldn’t be so bad if this didn’t also give Stephanie better access to punch him squarely in the stomach. Jason snarls, leaping out of bed to tackle Stephanie to the floor. They grapple around on the floor for a while, Stephanie succeeding in nailing Jason in the throat with an elbow and pinning him to the floor.

“What,” she says pointedly, “did you do to Tim??”

Jason wheezes, only half due to the pressure still on his throat. Stephanie stares down at him furiously.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Jason says hoarsely. 

Stephanie’s eyes narrow.

“Well, you better figure it out because he showed up at my apartment and has spent the entire morning moping under my blankets and obsessively redesigning Redbird on his tablet.”

Stephanie gets up in one smooth motion then offers a hand to help pull Jason up from the floor. Jason rubs at his sore throat giving Stephanie an incredulous look.

“I dunno what his problem is; he asked me to some fancy dinner and I just asked why he wasn’t asking you or whatever-”

“You what?”

“What! What did I do?”

“What did you do??” Stephanie shrieks in lieu of answering the question. “You have to be joking.”

When Jason just stares at her for a good minute Stephanie’s expression breaks and she starts laughing.

“Oh my god, please tell me you got dosed with something from Ivy or took a blow to the head recently,” she wheezes through her laughter. “Oh, noo, this is too stupid.”

“If you’ve figured out whatever is going on, could you clue me in?” Jason implores which only makes Stephanie laugh harder.

“Nope!” she says, popping the P, “this is too fucking funny. You’re on your own, bro.”

Before Stephanie leaves she makes sure to steal some of Jason’s leftovers and laugh at him some more, giving a two fingered salute as she leaves through the same window Tim had earlier that morning.

Over the course of the day Jason tries to busy himself cleaning his weapons and kitchen but he just end up stewing in the echoes of Stephanie’s laughter. He’s slumped on the couch rereading the same paragraph of a random paperback he’d grabbed when around four in the afternoon he receives a text from Cass that’s just a smiley face. It’s the only warning he gets before Tim comes stumbling through his window, laptop tucked under his arm.

“Okay, so, I’m still mad at you,” Tim starts, which is great, “but I want you to watch this.”

He sets his laptop down on Jason’s coffee table and maybe Jason can finally find out what this is all about.

On Tim’s laptop screen he opens what looks like a power-point presentation, and isn’t that just incredibly Tim, with the title: “Reasons We Make A Good Couple and Shouldn’t Break Up”.

Wait-

Back up.

“Break up??” Jason asks incredulously.

Tim’s head whips around to look at Jason, the slide on the screen changing to a picture of the two of them in uniform at the local 24 hour diner, probably taken by the waitress and posted on some social media platform, Tim reaching across the table to snag a piece of Jason’s bacon. It’s got several heart emojis all over it.

“You- yes? Isn’t that?” Tim sputters suddenly turning a bright shade of red.

“To break up don’t we have to date first?” Jason asks in a rush before his brain has really caught up with the situation.

Tim gets impossibly more red, muttering, “oh my fucking god,” while slamming the laptop shut. He runs a hand through his hair, looking as nervous and off kilter as Jason currently feels.

“I’m. I’m so sorry, Jay, I thought-” Tim starts rambling, words flowing together into an incoherent string while Jason’s brain tries desperately to parse what’s happening.

Like a lightbulb finally turning on in the middle of the night, Jason understands.

“Tim. Are we dating?”

Tim stops, jaw audibly snapping shut. He looks at Jason for all of two seconds before his gaze darts away miserably, looking at the floor.

“Yes?” he ventures, sounding unsure. “I just. I assumed you wanted to take it slow.”

Jason can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes his throat.

“Do I look like I do anything slow, Babybird?”

Tim growls in frustration, throwing his hands in the air and then pointing an accusing finger at Jason.

“We go out all the time! I hang out in your apartment! But whenever I’d try to initiate something more, you’d back off! I was trying to be considerate!”

Oh holy shit. Stephanie is right, this is stupid. Jason had thought he’d been projecting his own desires onto Tim, that there was no way Tim would want to be close to him like that. Even after all this time, Tim still finds ways to surprise Jason.

“Well, this explains why Stephanie punched and then started laughing at me this morning,” Jason laughs while draping an arm over his eyes. They really were Batman’s kids if their complete inability to communicate like normal people was anything to go by.

“God, Jason, I am so sorry,” Tim says, dropping down beside Jason on the couch with an oof. “I never should have assumed anything.”

“Hey, Babybird?” Jason shuffles over so he can throw his arm over Tim’s shoulders.

Tim startles, looking at Jason with wide blue eyes.

“Shut up and let me kiss you.”

Yeah, okay, maybe sometimes Jason is stupid. But he can at least find solace in the knowledge that sometimes Tim is also. Besides that, Jason tells himself, what really matters is that they got their shit together in the end. Even if that realization is undoubtedly going to come with a large amount of their family all pointing and laughing at them for being idiots.

“So,” Tim ventures after they’ve spent half an hour making out on Jason’s couch, “does this mean you’ll come with me to the dinner?”

Jason muffles a laugh against Tim’s collarbone and says, “yeah, sure I’ll come.”

“Okay, cool, cool. We’ve got to be there in an hour then.”

[stovetuna]

This is for @bardingbeedle who yelled at me in the tags and then on messenger and ultimately inspired me to write some “lorge soft steve” and tbh who am I to refuse. (also high-key inspired by this masterpiece of fanart I RBed [again] earlier today)

(takes place shortly after the events of Avengers Assemble episode 2x07, aka the best fic none of us ever wrote)

(heed the READ MORE!)

***

Tony is hustling from one meeting to the next, all but literally running into the kitchen for a cup of afternoon coffee, when he spies Steve Rogers bent over the communal living room coffee table. That in and of itself isn’t exactly outside the realm of normal Steve Rogers activities—the man does love a good brood, even if he won’t admit it and doesn’t do it as often as he used to.

But Tony wracks his brain for possible reasons why Steve would be hunched up around the shoulders like he’s expecting a body blow any minute and keeps coming up empty. Not even fresh coffee makes his synapses fire faster. Did they forget his birthday? Impossible. Did someone send Captain America hate mail? Uh, doubly impossible, especially because Tony’s got lawyers screening their mail for that kind of stuff (they’ve got more than enough pressure in their day-to-day lives, time-slip dinosaurs and age regressions notwithstanding).

Maybe Steve found a piece of upsetting news, or some fact of modern history that isn’t sitting well with him? That’s a lot more likely.

Before he can remind himself that Pepper’s waiting in his office to put him on a call with the president of MIT—something about a commencement speech, if memory serves—Tony is sauntering into the living room, nonchalant, tongue already prickling with some smart remark. He’s got it all written out in his head like a perfect line of code up until the moment he’s standing in front of Steve and sees the expression on his face.

“Whoa, who ran over your puppy?”

Tony winces, wishing for the millionth time that his mouth and his brain could work together simultaneously, but no. Worse, Steve doesn’t even answer him—he just frowns harder, if that’s even possible, and folds in on himself like his shoulders alone don’t take up half the length of the massive couch. Tony lowers the hand holding his coffee and blinks.

“Steve?”

“Oh!” Steve jumps upright, and quick as a flash moves something vaguely folder-shaped behind his back. “Tony! I didn’t hear you walk in—don’t you have a meeting right now?”

Something in Tony’s chest squeezes at the sight of that smile and at Steve’s impeccable attention to detail. But really, ever since the incident with the Time Stone, when he’d jolted back into his adult body and come to in Steve’s arms, he’s felt completely knocked off-balance. Now everything about Steve Rogers—the man, not the superhero—is a revelation. Every smile, every word, every look has Tony tripping over his own feet, tongue, thoughts. He may be back in his adult body, but he’s never felt more like a prepubescent teenager with a crush, fidgeting in place under Steve’s gaze.

“It got postponed,” he lies, because whatever has put that pinch between Steve’s eyebrows is way more important right now. “What’s up?”

“Nothing!” Steve replies, too loud and too quickly. Tony gives him a look. Steve flushes, shrinking in on himself even further, like he wants the couch to devour him. “Uh, nothing important. Just an anniversary I forgot about.”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to frown. He likes to think he’s got a solid mental calendar of important dates for all of his teammates memorized at this point—Natasha’s move-in, Bruce’s lab incident, Sam’s SHIELD acceptance, Steve being found in the ice—but none of those are today.

“Got room for one more?” Tony asks, nodding at the scant space next to Steve on the couch when the man gives him a questioning look. Steve’s cheeks immediately go a charming shade of pink, which churns the coffee in Tony’s empty stomach with a vengeance. Steve shifts to press himself against the arm as Tony moves to sit down next to him, almost crushing the folder Steve had hidden earlier in the process. There’s a gasp, and a lightning-quick hand, and then Steve, pale and breathless, is holding a manila folder against his chest like it’s the secret to the Super Soldier Serum.

It’s weird—Tony knows Steve trusts him, and vice versa. They wouldn’t have solved the riddle of the Time Stone if they didn’t trust each other. So to sit next to Steve, who’s gone from morose to terrified in the three minutes since Tony walked into the room and feel a wall between them is jarring. And upsetting. He’s only been nursing this crush for a few days, and Steve’s not that perceptive…is he? Maybe he is. Maybe this is Steve weeding out Tony’s feelings before they’ve even had a chance to grow.

Tony shakes his head at the thought. No, Steve’s a lot of things, but cruel isn’t one of them.

“Care to share with the class?” he asks, gently so he doesn’t spook Steve. It seems to work: Steve relaxes, tension falling from his shoulders as he eases into Tony’s presence. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, but keeps the folder pressed securely against his sternum. Tony tries hard not to steal a glance at the way Steve’s shirt pulls across his broad, thick chest as he breathes.

“It’s nothing.”

“Cap, if it was nothing, you wouldn’t be trying to Honey-I-Shrunk-Myself into the couch right now.”

Steve Rogers in active wear doesn’t cut quite the same figure as Steve Rogers in full Captain America regalia, it’s true, but that doesn’t mean he’s small. Like this, he’s just as large and has just as much presence as he does in uniform; it’s just…more human. Less Captain, more Steve. Both are devastating in their own way, but only Steve—friendly, blushing, awkward, unassuming Steve—makes Tony acutely aware of the distance between their bodies, down to the last electrified hair.

Catching his own breath, Tony puts his full mug on the coffee table and drops his hands into his lap, turning his head to watch Steve chew on whatever words are fighting to come out. Be patient, he tells himself. Whatever this is, Steve’s struggling with it, and Tony can have some tact when he wants to.

Finally, Steve closes his eyes and sighs. When he lowers his hands, the folder goes with them. Tony glances at the cover and almost swallows his tongue.

“Is that—?” Steve makes a noncommittal sound, like a ‘yes’ but softer, uncertain, like he’s not sure Tony’s reaction is a good one. Tony swallows his excitement with a wince. “Is that the Project Rebirth file? I told Fury to give it to you a long time ago, but I wasn’t sure he did.”

Tony is so preoccupied looking at the folder he doesn’t hear Steve’s gasp or notice his eyes lock onto him. “He did,” Steve replies quietly after a pause. “But that’s isn’t…that’s not what this is about.”

That’s kind of a surprise. The sudden appearance of the Project Rebirth file would explain Steve’s face and body language, but if it’s not that…

Steve hands the entire folder over to Tony without another word.

“Uh,” Tony gapes, too awestruck to achieve any kind of higher brain function.

“Look at the date,” Steve says. It’s not an order, just a gentle request, but it doesn’t prevent a shiver from rippling down the length of Tony’s spine. If he was hyperaware of the space between their bodies before, it’s even worse now with Steve leaning every-so-slightly toward him and reaching out a hand to point directly at the date written on the faded label.

22 June 1943

Tony blinks. “It’s the anniversary…of you?” He opens the folder without a second thought, and the first thing he sees is a picture of Steve. There are other things in the file—sheaves of what look like medical reports, heavily redacted memos, and carbon copies of typed letters—but the only thing Tony can focus on is Steven Grant Rogers circa 1943. The Steven Grant Rogers of before.

He’s touching the photo before he can stop himself, being so, so careful as he traces the narrow shape of the man in the photograph while the real, supersized thing sits next to him.

“It’s the first time I’ve really had a chance to sit and think about what it was like, before,” Steve says, unprompted. “Everything happened so fast once I got the serum, I didn’t have time to just…take it all in. And then I went into the ice and—well. You know the rest.”

All skin and bones, this man, back then. But the jut of his jaw is the same; the serum didn’t change that, or the flinty stubbornness in Steve’s eyes, or the proud set of his shoulders, just daring the world to try and fuck with him. Tony smiles—Steve before the serum is like a matchstick, short and thin and always one spark away from bursting into flame. He really didn’t change a bit.

When Tony finally looks up from the photo (not gazing, of course not), he sees Steve’s expression has gone pinched again, his arms now crossed in front of his chest.

“Alright, there’s that face again. Out with it, Cap.”

Steve really shouldn’t bite his lip—it’s bad for Tony’s health. But Tony’s comment does get him to smile a little bit, which is good. “I guess…it’s been over seventy years since I got the serum, but most days I still feel like that skinny guy in the picture.” Tony watches him as he speaks, taking in the faraway look in Steve’s eyes, the shrinking posture, the downward turn of his mouth—who says I can’t be observant, Tony thinks—and wishes he and Steve were the kind of friends who hugged outside of catastrophic cosmic events. God knows it looks like Steve could use one, as wound up and tense as he is right now.

“I’ve broken so many things by accident because I keep forgetting I’m this, now,” he says, gesturing broadly at himself with one hand. Frowning, Steve uses that same hand to brace his forehead, elbow dropping down onto his thigh. The man is the picture of misery, and Tony aches to comfort him. It’s a physical pull in the pit of his stomach, urgent and needy—like if he doesn’t get his arms around Steve Rogers right this second, something important inside him is going to malfunction.

Tony shoves his hands under his thighs and nods. “Dr. Erskine could turn you into a super soldier,” he says softly, “but he couldn’t erase the first 27 years of your life.” He doesn’t speak his next thought aloud—that if there was in fact a way to erase those years, Tony would have signed up for the very first clinical trial. It’s a grim thought, and not something Steve needs to hear right now, but it’s been on Tony’s mind ever since his brief return to adolescence, and it’s a hard one to shake.

But what Steve heard seems to help. He peeks at Tony through his fingers and swallows loud enough even Tony can hear it.

“Yeah,” he rasps, “something like that.”

“What else?”

“What?”

“What else is bugging you? About this?”

Steve lowers his hand and stares at Tony. Stares. It’s such a feeling, being stared at by Steve Rogers, Tony can feel the heat climbing up from underneath his t-shirt. Even the arc reactor feels a bit warmer in his chest.

“How could you tell?”

“You’re still doing your level-best impression of a Shrinky Dink, Cap,” Tony replies. “Kind of hard not to notice.”

“I have no idea what that is,” Steve laughs, a hoarse, dry sound, “but you’re not wrong. I guess…I don’t know. It’s hard to put into words.”

“Try.”

Seriously, when Steve looks at him like that—like he did when Tony soared through the air as Iron Kid, all awe and pride and warmth—Tony feels capable of anything. Anything. He’d bottle that feeling, if he could, just like he’d bottle the color of Steve’s hair in the afternoon light coming in through the living room windows right now, all warm, pale yellows shot through with gold. If the photo in the file were in full color, Tony would bet his fortune Steve’s hair would be the same shade it is now.

Because Steve Rogers has always been perfect. Damn him.

“I still feel small,” Steve says, and any thoughts of hair and perfection derail abruptly. Looking into the middle-distance past his nose, he continues, “I don’t fit in this body. That doesn’t make sense, but—it’s like the super soldier is a mold, and I’m just there rattling around inside it, too small to fit. Does that—does that make any sense?” He looks at Tony imploringly, begging him with his eyes to understand. Tony feels that tug again, worse now, to wrap his arms around Steve and hold him tight. Call it returning the favor for the other day with the Time Stone, call it acting on his crush, whatever.

No one so large has ever looked as small as Steve Rogers does right now.

“It does,” Tony croaks.

“Really?”

“Really. I mean, how do you think I feel inside the suit?”

Steve makes a sound at that—not a whimper, not a gasp, but something hovering between the two that splits Tony’s heart right down the middle. “I never thought of it that way,” he whispers. “But that’s it. That’s exactly it.” Visible relief fills Steve’s lungs and makes his entire body go lax, leaning closer to Tony in the process. Tony, of course, is hyperaware of Steve’s size—everyone except Thor and Hulk is small compared to him—but now he’s equally aware of who’s operating the Cap-suit, so to speak.

“The only difference is, I can take my super-suit off,” Tony says, pinching the underside of his own thigh to cut off a laugh—Steve hasn’t seen The Incredibles yet—and continues, “you can’t. That’s bound to make a guy feel uncomfortable, even you, Mr. ‘I can handle anything you throw at me.’” He elbows Steve a little, good-naturedly, for emphasis, and gets a full, beautiful smile for his efforts.

God. Skinny or huge, Steve Rogers is gorgeous. It really shouldn’t be allowed.

“Yeah, good point.” Face still split by a smile—I put that there, Tony preens—Steve leans against the back of the couch and sighs. “There are things I miss, though. About being small. I didn’t think I did, until…” He glances at Tony, then, and there’s no missing the blush creeping up his neck.

“Until?”

“The other day,” Steve replies. “When you de-aged, and I—when we—” Tony bites his tongue so hard he’s pretty sure he tastes blood. Don’t interrupt. Let him get it out. Steve laughs breathily. “When I hugged you, I was so glad I was in a position to protect you, physically, like that. But later on I kept thinking about how much I miss being the protected one, sometimes. Not always, but. Sometimes.” Steve looks at the photo and sighs. “I keep thinking about what it felt like when ma looked after me when I was sick, or when Bucky put himself between me and the bigger guy because he knew I couldn’t take another hit…sure I resented it a little, being so weak, but I liked…that.”

“You liked being cared for.”

The look Steve levels at Tony could drive away a storm.

“Yeah,” he husks. “I did.”

“And now that you’re—” Tony waves a hand at Steve’s everything, “—this, you think you don’t, what, deserve care?”

“Maybe?” Steve blinks. “I don’t know.”

“Cap—Steve,” Tony says, putting his hands palms-up in his lap so Steve can see all of him. No threat, no judgment. “Everyone wants to feel cared for. It’s human nature. And just because you’re superhuman doesn’t mean you’re inhuman.”

Damn if those therapy sessions Pepper forced him into aren’t paying off big time right now. If the sheen in Steve’s eyes is anything to go by, Tony’s hit the nail right on the head.

“Oh,” he breathes.

“Yeah,” Tony smiles. Butterflies be damned, he moves the project file onto the coffee table next to his now-cold mug and turns toward Steve. Slowly, he opens his arms. “C’mere,” he says, so quiet only Steve would hear if anyone else was around. As it is, they’re alone in the tower, and Steve doesn’t hesitate—one moment Tony’s arms are empty and the next he’s got 240 pounds of solid muscle curling into his chest and Steve’s tucking his big head under Tony’s chin like the world’s neediest Bernese mountain dog.

Thankfully, Tony’s arms are just long enough to fit all the way around Steve’s massive shoulders. And even if they weren’t, he’d find a way to make it work.

Knees knocking together, feet brushing up against each other on the carpet, Steve shifts and adjusts until he can wrap his arms around Tony’s waist. Once he settles in, he sighs right into the notch at the base of Tony’s throat. “Thank you, Tony.”

“Anytime, big guy,” Tony replies, softly with a warm smile he thinks Steve can’t see.

[randomnameless]

Needing that evening salt

While I thank @nilsh13 for giving me the link to that interview.

I was like “prepare for a ton of salt, take your lemons”  however, I’ve kind of mellowed out a bit because the VA seems to be a really nice person -

and I’ve read the Toyonaga interview recently.

Sometimes, the VA are allowed to interpret the character in a certain way that fits with what the game developpers more or less intended (granted they are the same guys who didn’t hire a continuity guy so...), and sometimes, it fails because direction sucks, because lenses are given and doesn’t match with the content you’re adaptating.

As a result, we have Jp!Rhea and lolcalised!Rhea.

i wonder if inoue will ever make an interview one day about 3H but I doubt it

We start with the infamous 

“You don’t have to try it so much (to be the calm and composed person), Rhea doesn’t try, she just is - The essence of Rhea is enough”

Pat no :’(

But... Rhea isn’t calm and composed, Rhea is emotional, pretty much, she’s a bubble waiting to burst and she tries to be calm and composed and keep a facade (more on that later) but, I feel like the “Rhea doesn’t try she just is” might be the reason why lolcalised!Rhea feels detached during certain events, when Aelfric’s attempted Nabatean homonculi Transmutation backfires, when Kikuko Inoue nails the sense of sadness and dread because, uh, a man she just said she saw as her own child basically died here to become a grotesque monster and attempted to replicate her own mistakes. 

Rhea tries to be a calm and composed person, she managed to keep up appearances for, apparently, 1000 years, but Rhea is also emotional as fuck.

But... This is where everything falls apart.

“You were given the direction - paraphrasing - to channel your inner Dumbledore?”

It’s safe to assume most people can draw parallels to “Three Houses and Harry Potter”

And Leigh falls in the biggest trap, trying to “play the game and figure out who is who” because, while I think someone replied to an earlier post about the parallel (i’m really sorry when i finally had time to reply 2 weeks had passed and i didn’t want to necropost), but I still firmly disagree, and truth to be told, this is, in a way, what I was afraid of when 3H was announced.

FE is a series that loves to reference itself, so when it was announced that the next game would be set in a school, and Bernie and Dorothea were previewed I grew really afraid that the game was going to have the typical “North American High School AU” and none of the “Fire Emblem” series. We had the recluse, Sylvain appeared to be the frat boy, I was expecting the cheerleader, Ignatz to be the nerd etc etc.

With the HP thing, and “trying to see who is who”, I feel like the localisation team and the VA were trying to look at the game with a special - tailored by them for their own use - lens. I will not say “western” lens, but they were trying to look for things that just... aren’t?

Yes, 3H took inspiration from the latest behemoth who was trending at that time, but it wasn’t HP, it was ASOIAF. 

And even then, it is only a flair and a colour scheme. 

If Edel isn’t enough, the Golden Deer, with its specific color scheme immediately calls back to the Baratheon sigil (a black stag on a field of gold, when the Golden Deer is a deer... on a field of gold). House Lannister and Arryn are reversed, the Lion isn’t associated to the Red House but to the Blue one, and the Eagle (actually the Arryn sigil is a falcon) leaves the Moon to the Blue House and lands in the Red House. And the Ashen Wolves are... grey wolves on a white field, like this house. IS managed to take animals from traditional european heraldry, but with the colors and the specific animals picked? It’s hard to deny the ASOIAF nod.

Hubert calls the mole people snakes, but it is his own nickname, the death cult has its own name, Agarthans. They never use a snake of their banner, nor refer to themselves as such.

Bar the aesthetics? 

IS wanted the monastery to be a nod to FE Jugdral’s Barahra Royal Academy, a place where, apparently, heirs of various nations could study together and form lasting friendships, which were supposed to prevent wars (or at least made former alumnis of said academy sad to fight against each other).

But because FE Jugdral wasn’t released overseas, and someone didn’t do their homework about the series (when Toyonaga is a big fan of the Jugdral saga), the monastery, and its academy, was linked to... HP.

Rhea isn’t Dumbledore. Rhea is an amalgation of Gotoh - the mentor who guides you - and, twist, of Tiki! 

If Seteth doubted Billy’s abilities, it is tied to their own nature as a self-insert, Fred doubted Robin when they first met, but then mellowed out. Or, without the avatar angle, when Greil trusts Ike, and later on, Titania, Shinon doubts him until the end (or until you recruit him).

So with a blurred lens, it is no wonder why localised!Rhea is so different from Inoue!Rhea. 

Then Leigh continues on with the interview, noting how insecure she is, irl, and how Rhea helped her realise that “sometimes I don’t need to try to be someone else to fit it, it’s okay to just be myself” ...

:/

How can the direction give this impression of Rhea to her VA when Rhea, her character, is the complete opposite? 

Rhea tries to be someone else, she laments about it, she cannot be herself, she has to put on a facade and make careful choices and pick certain words as an archbishop, Rhea has to anonymously ask how to tell people she doesn’t like hot tea because she is afraid of hurting feelings, she wants to socialise with people but cannot due to her station and the role she has. Rhea has to pretend to be a guide and a leader to her people, when she only wants her Mother to return to assume this role she thinks she is butchering.

So, doubling Rhea should actually have the opposite effect, Rhea cannot “just be (her)self”! or maybe it’d be an advice Leigh gives to Rhea, the character?

So if you take the blurred lens coupled with the tragic direction given, Rhea’s depth is erased. She is instead turned into the scary fanatic who never emotes, save to raeg, and only wants to rez her mom.

Cute moment though, even if the topic is one I disagree on, where, talking about Rhea’s temper, Leigh says she wouldn’t want to encounter her when she’s stuck in traffic :) (lbr we all know Rhea would pull out the wings and reactor of her DeLorean and fly over everyone, without Billy though, she cannot time travel)

Tl; dr : Imposing doesn’t mean frightening, Leigh and the interviewer watched too much DBZ and ASOIAF (rather, GOT) was the “western” behemoth referenced in FE16, not HP. 

The other referenced behemoth was... well, a small series called Fire Emblem.

As always, I’m more willing to cut some slack for the VAs because the industries is more recent than the one in Japan, and/or roles weren’t directed the same way (do you know the guy who dubs Morgan Freeman in Wonder France also dubs the voice talking during Uncle Ben’s ads? Or Bruce Willis is in Martin Mystery?)

But the Directors? No. Games have been imported and translated/localised for several decades now, you can’t pull a “4Kids” anymore on content you do not understand or do not wish to understand, and butchering a character (or misunderstand a character that much) shouldn’t have happened in 2019. 

Dub is nice, when it exists, but for now, I’m still going to stick to Sub.