#winter answers

[hypewinter]

Hear me out! Danny finds his human form slowly getting more eldrich as he gets older (and more powerful) and ends up going to Gotham where people are way less likely to ask questions!

Sadly when the people of Gotham see Danny, oops my shadow has eyes now, Fenton they just assume he's gonna be a new Rouge!

Que the bat fam watching Danny waiting for him to make his move, over-analyzing everything he does. Mans can't even buy a new laptop without Bruce breathing down his neck about it

This would be an issue if Danny wasn't such a little troll, and he starts buying more obviously ominous things only to openly use them in improperly boring and normal ways. Like buys a death lazer and can be seen using it to make toast, buys a cursed box full of death themed artifacts and uses it as a coffee table, that kinda stuff.

Every time the bat's assume 'this is it!' And gets ready to take him down, only to see Danny setting up a new 'coat rack' made of kriptonite

Even better when they see him tinkering on some kind of doomsday device, the kind that looks super evil and dangerous and even has a red count down timer on the front and- it's a fucking air frier again! He already has three! Why does he keep making air friers?! Obviously this must be some kind of scheme

I raise you: Danny starts selling his things out to random citizens (they've all been intensely screened). The bats panic thinking this is an attempt to cripple Gotham in one fell swoop. Nope. Ms. Randall just really needed a new air purifier and Danny had a toxin dispenser that was just collecting dust.

I imagine though that he might start to notice that the bats are focusing on him a little too much which is a problem considering there are things going down in Gotham that actually need their attention. But at the same time, our resident ghost boy isn't ready to stop being a menace just yet. So what does he do? Kill too birds with one stone.

Whenever Danny catches wind of a new plot going down, he does something to draw the bats's attention to it. Two Face planning a robbery? Suddenly Danny is showing up to the bank everyday to work on the vault (he offered to reinforce it for free). The bats get so suspicious they focus hard on the bank and discover Two Face's plot before he can do anything.

The bats pat themselves on the back while Danny giggles in the background. Wonder how long it will take for them to figure out what's going on.

[iphoenixrising]

Hi! I just wanted to send you a message, firstly to wish you a happy new year! And secondly just to say that you’ve been providing incredible and free works of art for nearly a decade (probably longer, but it’s been nearly a decade since I first followed you!!) and I just wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the tireless work you’ve put in. I hope writing has been as much of a joy for you as reading has been for us! Wishing you a wonderful 2025 :))

Hi babe.

Ah, thank-you for the loves! It's so amazing to think you've been with me that long, you know? There's many of the fandom peeps that text me or send me messages that have literally been there since the first Tim Drake fic went out. My daughter was still a baby back then and she's in sixth grade now and is almost as tall as I am tbh. Crazy how much time has passed.

And, you know, the years I haven't been writing much because ah work and other interests as I finally spread out my fanfic wings to devour content rather than create, I still come back here and be amazed at the amount of fics and ficlets and stories and half-baked headcannons people are still finding and enjoying today. In the shitshow the US has become in the last year, it's a welcome feeling to know some of the depressed and down-trodden can find some kind of comfort in ass-kicking vigilantes, Doctors with hobbies, Omegas that can only run from what they need for so long, the real feeling of Welcome Home, the owfucks and attitudes and steamy accents, the birds that can only go forward - never back, the absolute slimy creep Ra's can turn out at the most inopportune moments, the array of named concussions to make them seem a little less bad, infinite cups of coffee and Grape Zestis, the cliffhangers that might never get finished, and a plethora of other things hidden in the dark niches of this blog.

Hopefully, someday I'll go back for my MA in Creative Writing and get out of Tech to do this, or a version of this, in real life. But, until I do, I might as well share just a bit of the next installment of the TimDick (maybe TimDickJay...?) Sentinel/Guide au, right?

Hm, why not? You can check it below the cut ;)

After turning down any attempt of his Sentinel to contact him (i.e. actually duck and dodging said stalkery behavior he is intimately familiar with), it all comes down to the basics less than a month after the disastrous discovery in a hotel room right after he'd played Wayne Enterprises CEO with the likes of Lex Luthor–

who will always and forever be King of the Douche Canoes, seriously

– the breakout at Black Gate is the most all hands on deck that's happened in Gotham in the last year.

Since several members of the Rogue Gallery teamed up to set the explosives, well, every Bat is expected to set-up in Gotham, and Red Robin, for as much as he's stayed the fuck out of their business in the last year, finds himself already in the city for a few meetings with Lucius about next quarter when the night sky outside Wayne Towers lights up with the very familiar symbol.

"Dammit," he breathes out, pretty much aware he could just ignore it. Considering Nightwing, the Red Hood, Batgirl, Black Bat, Robin, and B were all in the city tonight anyway.

(What's one more body between the people of Gotham and the baddies? Well, depends on the body, doesn't it?)

Lucius gives the usual suffering sigh he gives Brucie Wayne when the other mask falls away and leaves the vigilante behind.

"I guess we can pick this up tomorrow," the head of R&D tells him idly, scrolling through text alerts on his phone while Tim visibly reins himself back in to the new line of motherboards going into their medical cradles for military aid.

Tim just stays quiet for once because even though Lucius and Tam both know the big secrets, it's still not something they talk about unless a thorough sweep for bugs has happened in the last thirty minutes.

(Ninjas suck sometimes. #facts)

"It's fine. We still have a few more things we can cross off the list–" Tim starts, jaw tight when he turns away from the familiar symbol, when some things still fucking sting even though he's been doing his level-best to move the fuck forward.

Lucius hums at him and holds out his phone with a tight smile.

The quick update on Gotham's Track the Crime Spree app shows him exactly what's going down, and his truly epic facepalm is the loudest thing in the office.

**

The Batcomm he hacked is on mute, voices in his ear to keep up with the criminals spilling out of Blackgate and swarming the city. Not to mention some of the classics had a hand in making it happen.

The initial plan changes when the Bats start calling dibs on bad guys, throwing out their locations, heading toward the more-than-usual amount of mayhem.

He doesn't throw in on the convo, instead starts picking off the small fries that just happened to be more concerned with escaping and hiding than doing a fair amount of damage the second they hit Gotham proper.

(Really noobs)

He's running through alleyways, easy, fast, and furious to take down the low-level escapees with quick double zip ties for wrists and ankles, not even really working up a sweat.

He leaves the big times to the official night crew, deals with the small fries and enjoys the burn in his thighs as he runs.

Batgirl spots him, yelling out something before he's off again, not interested in some kind of reunion.

(And her low level shields make his back teeth ache with how vulnerable she is, how much she needs someone to strengthen them for her, how he could do it without working too hard... Dammit, the Guide in him is drawn to her with those pesky instincts he's been trying to get under control.)

His first big bad of the night comes in the form of–

Condiment King.

And just. 

This guy.

He really wishes he had the time to enjoy witty banter and a long, drawn-out fight with some heavy hits. Anything to stop him from the low-level buzz on the edge of his shields he knows is Nightwing. He zip ties Buddy Sandler to a light pole and his backpack of condiments to another, he gets one good one before it’s time to move on. 

“Well, I relish the win, but you and the rest are going back to jail. See ya next crime.”

Then he’s off, shooting a grapple, taking off into the night.

Mortimer Kadaver was already kidnapping a victim, and he gets a satisfying crunch when he breaks the guys nose after a look at the torture implements in the back seat of the stolen sedan. The citizen takes off without a look back, completely ignoring him to wait for the police.

He jumps on another stolen car, riding a few blocks at breakneck speed before he punches out the driver’s side window and steers the car himself.

(It’s fun when the low-level thugs don’t know what’s going on. “How are you not driving?!” “Tell the hand in the window to give me the wheel back!”)

He doesn’t get thrown when brains kicks in and the driving thug slams on the brakes, but it’s a close thing.

Instead, he’s trying not to smile when they tumble out the other side of the car on unsteady legs. It’s an easy KO when the city is literally going to shit over the comm in his ear.

Things get real when O calls everyone in on the West side where the bigger, badder B is apparently ready for a round 2 of the “break Batman’s back” challenge.

(It’s the worst possible time for that guy. The flash of memory, of being Dick’s Robin for the short stint, of working with him while Bruce had to train his body again to take on the mantle after Jean Paul had to admit defeat. The best times, the most painful memories. All of it swirling in his chest with the buzzing on the edge of his senses getting sharper, cutting into his shields. All the bullshit stories about True Pairs and here he is, tempting the bond with things like proximity and ass kicking.)

He hits the top of the water tower to check out the sitch, trying to stay out of sight, out of the way of the main family doing their things while Bane is hepped up on venom and swatting at Robin and Black Bat like flies.

No one has to say it while calling out strategy, but it’s a pretty obvious distraction play. Keep the Bats busy while the bulk of baddies get ghost. It’s classic Bane, really.

Since the venom is highly flammable and there’s a lot of vigilantes he doesn’t want to face, he does the next best thing - makes a plan.

It easy to drive KG Beast and the Baffler right up his grill without ever being seen by the Bats as the three big baddies smack into one another on the down swing of some stunning blows. 

A combination of smoke pellets, knockout gas, and bo to the back of the head puts them out for the count in a move even he didn’t think was crazy enough to work.

Slam dunk. It’s buy two and get one free day.

Even better, Black B and Rob were back far enough to miss him through the smoke even though his rebound was a top notch move even for a season vigilante.

Which is why it sucks when Polka-Dot Man actually gets the drop on him because honestly, that guy. He does deliver a stunning back kick to put the B-lister down, but it does make him see double for an important enough second.

“Daw, takin�� alla the fun outta my night, Pretender,” the Red Hood drawls from a rooftop above him, the glint off shiny .45s too bright in his spotty vision. “Nice a’ ya ta actually show the fuck up fer once.”

“Honestly,” he banters back while the woozy sensation fades to a low grade headache, “how many asses in spandex does one city need?”

He gets a chuckle rather than a bullet to the head, so that is most certainly a win.

The drawback of gaining attention of the Red Hood, however, is the lack of duck and dodge that really is part of his new pseud.

Hood literally throws him over a shoulder and dives off the Wallstone Apartments while Red is still reeling from the blow, bellowing out when a meaty arm clamps on the back of his kicking legs in a very subtle warning.

“Leggo!”

“My ass. Stop yer squirming, fucker.”

“How about we compromise. Let me go and you can kick someone else’s ass?”

“Nice try. Like I dunno who yer really running from?”

“I’m fighting crime, not running you asshole!”

“Sure, sure. Ya know what they say. De Nile ain’t just a river in Egypt.”

“I don’t even live here anymore!”

“Oh? Can’t wait ta tell B ya just said that, Timmer.”

“I’m not his responsibility, didn’t you get the memo?”

Wind in his hair over the bad section of bail bondsmen and sleazy villain insurance. The plan forms while Red Hood arches his back to throw them both high in the air before the second grapple *zings* and latches on.

“I said th’ same thing at one time. Ya already know bout that shit, an’ how B didn’t give one fuck ‘bout what I hadda say.”

“The difference is you’re actually part of the fucking family, Jason!”

“Mmhm. Keep onnit, Replacement. M’comm is gettin’ alla this, n’ ya know it.”

“So what? No one’s bothered giving a crap  so far!”

Did he get hit with a truth serum or is this just the concussion talking? 

(R - Randal, Randal the concussion is awful and he should really stop this messy truth shit no one needs to hear.)

“Come off’n it, Timmy. Like ya don’t already know B gotcha tracked within an incha yer life? Think he just gonna let the smart one run off wi’ Shiva fer fuck’s sake?”

Even with Randal being a pain in the ass, Red has a terrifying moment of panic. They know. They all know.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, sure. Tell that ta Dickie why dontcha? I ain’t seen ‘in that pissed off inna hot minute.”

“He already knows-“

“Does he really now? Why don’tcha tell ole’ Jace all ‘bout it, hm?”

His voice through the synths sounds very not inviting.

“Randall is a fucker and he needs to lay off,” which has Hood laughing even if he doesn’t know what Red means by any of it.

They land it with a jolt — right in the middle of a brawl.

Which is just about the speed he really needs right now anyway.

Black Bat swings by with a screaming escapee dangling from one hand by his ankle while she smiles under the stitched-up mask and gives him a happy wave. The comm in his ear hasn’t fallen out so he knows the others are spaced out, corralling the others with the help of GCPD.

So, the fight is on a little more than he originally thought.

But still, the burn feels better than the low-grade concussion and the pulsing heat of Sentinels (of his Sentinel), close by. He knows Jason’s shields are fractured, held together by pure stubborn will. He knows Steph is a few blocks down, whooping it up with her shields scarily open for her senses to reach far enough out to track stragglers. B is held together the best of them all, but Dami is developing his senses now and his control is sporadic at best.

Punching the shit out of thugs takes some of the weight off the knowledge, doesn’t completely distract him from his own instincts, but distracts his brain just enough.

Leg sweeps, palm to the nose, kick to the back of the knees, a spinning whirlwind of ass kicking, back-to-back with Hood, spit blood when he takes a hit, clench his teeth when he feels the strain on Nightwing close enough to make his skin burn with it.

His chest is heaving by the time the groaning pile of bodies is down for the count and the red and blue is lighting up the night on their way. He scrambles for a grapple gun while Black B and Hood are finishing up the zip ties. But when he points it the way he wants to go, his finger won’t squeeze the trigger.

“Clean-up’s goin’ all right,” Hood reports, nudging his shoulder with the hand still holding the .45. “Lookin’ like B’s gotch some a’ th’ bomb residue ‘case ya wanna get in on that, nerd.”

“Like you’re much better,” Red rasps out, grapple in his lowered hand trembling, the pounding in his head worse than any concussion.

He knows what this is, the only thing it can be.

“Mmhm. ‘Least I don’t need a fuckin’ engraved invitation ta come back ta the Cave.”

Red’s head whips around, the whiteouts on the mask narrow in a who the fuck are you talking to? kind of way.

Hood crosses his arms over his massive chest because the guy knows when he’s feeding someone a line.

Welp, since everyone already knows apparently.

Right in front of the helmet, Red Robin shoves the grapple back in his belt and deactivates the right gauntlet with his left hand. The helmet cocks to the side in question, but Red moves with fluid grace and speed, even with Randall riding his cape, and slaps his palm on the only bare skin available, on the side of the Red Hood’s neck.

His instincts jump immediately and reach out to the dangerous cracks and crumbles in the Red Hood’s shields, the painful red throbbing of shields crumbling.

He might hear a noise out of the synths, might imagine it because what does Jason Todd owe him really?

But it’s easy, just like putting together the pieces of evidence from a crime scene. The fractured plates protecting Hood are hot to work with, a sharp sting across his brain pan (something that could be from the Pit or be just natural Jason Todd, zombie Sentinel extrodinaire), eases down with the pieces coming together, strengthening, forming a stronger metaphysical shield to give Jason a measure of peace from his own overwhelming senses. It’s a  the relief of relaxing a clenched fist after the fight.

The reason Sentinels need Guides.

(Well, there’s more to it than just that, isn’t there? And Red’s brain can’t help but flinch back to those dreams, to a voice in his ear and hands on him — Guide mapping, his dream Sentinel whispered against skin.)

Red doesn’t manage to stop Hood from sinking to his knees in the aftermath, downed criminals, things on fire, GCPD almost on top them, and Black B nearly vibrating out of her mask next to them, hands hovering and afraid to touch.

Instead, he feels the reverberation of that deep noise coming straight out of the Red Hood’s chest. The relief under the constructed shield thick between them while they stand in the middle of the street.

That growling purr is almost enough, almost enough, to stop him from turning on his heel.

But the gloved hand snags the hem of his cape stops him in his tracks. his eyes blow wide behind the whiteouts and he sees a second of Hood's emblem before his literal savior, Cass, snaps him up and throws him over her shoulder before she takes off.

The night takes a turn for a "what the fuck?" when he and Black B take a few pauses to double team some of the baddies when the Red Hood loses them close to Robinson Park.

Things got more dicey when N spots them taking out Joyful Noise before the sonic blaster destroys yet another pointless sculpture. The comms erupt in a whole lot more noise in the shit show his "duck and cover crime fighting" night has devolved into.

(He's not going to focus on how his head is just a little sore instead of Randall being a right pain in the ass, isn't going to think about the implications here. He can't focus and keep moving through the baddies if he has a sane moment to wonder if it was that easy because he also...Jason-)

They manage to evade the Bats (mostly), ignoring the cajoling and usual back-and-forth once they realize Red Robin is part of crime time.

Cass does him an absolutely solid, driving them to his other, other underground bunker, letting him hang his head against her back while the air hitting them reeks of smoke, burning plastic, and gasoline. He doesn't get the underlying tinge of metal, blood, and fear -- that was from Jason's head while those shields were coming together nicely.

(When he's a full continent away, he'll have him moment of panic, but until then, Cass is totally not addressing the very obvious elephant in the bunker.)

She stays for post-patrol snacks, producing a family-sized box of Cheez-Its and some Alfred sandwiches that are somehow still cold.

They do the usual throwing off sweaty top layers, domino and mask, stare at two episodes of The Office with Zestis from the mini-fridge in the corner.

One-handed signs while they chew, hit a quick patch up job, and the night is finally over.

Cass checks the Batchat to make sure everyone made it out of the city after one hell of a night and gives no reply to the questions about Tim, much to everyone’s dismay.

The next shift of GCPD is coming on, so the city is secured for another day. She produces a backpack and changes into soft leggins, runners, and a hoodie he's pretty sure is Bruce's.

Tim does a good job on her knuckles, and she gives him a kiss on the forehead, makes him promise to stay away from screens and not to sleep for a few hours yet.

After she takes off, he breathes out a long, breath, collapses on the overstuffed couch a minute before going to the lower levels, thinking about catching up on paperwork before he's got to meet with Lucius again. A nice shower, some coffee, and he could do some work, take an actual moment --

("True Pairs, an honest Sentinel and Guide relationship, can include sharing such effects of injuries.")

He shakes the thought out, rolls his neck, and picks up his discarded utility belt, trying to find as many things to divert his attention to as possible.

The door to his lower levels slides silently open under his fingerprint and an intensive alphanumeric code, but some premonition sends a familiar chill down his spine, the vestiges of the old Robin instincts.

[wof-inbox]

Winter has a nightmare where he turns into.... A mudwing princess named Autumn?? 🤯

”GAH!!!!! Eurgh… so much blood…! And death..and.. and so much.. MUD!” -Winter

[plain text: GAH!!!!! Eurgh… so much blood…! And death..and.. and so much.. MUD!]

[wardofwinters]

Everyone in the palace wants Maomao to work for them.

As they should

[sideblogofawriter]

Hey I wanted to ask you something ^^ I saw your plot bunnies about divergent Obey Me after lesson 16 and I was wondering, do you mind if people write fics based off of those ideas?

Short and cynical answer: physically, I cannot stop them, so it doesn't matter if I mind.

Longer and more optimistic answer: I would love to read something inspired by me/my ideas. However, I do have a history with people confidently stealing my writing word for word, changing a single sentence slightly, and claiming their work is just somewhat similar because it was inspired by mine... so I'm now slightly more jaded about this sort of thing, even though it's not exactly the same scenario.

But for the normal sane people who are respectful and maybe link me/give me credit for the idea(s), go for it. I would be super interested to see something made of them since I doubt whether I'll have time for it myself. If you do, please share it with me.

[weeklybuckydoodles]

hii

today's bucky doodle is congressman bucky barnes

[xcaptain-winterx]

please tell me you're going to do another part to be a man, it's so good

There will be one eventually. I’m still working on other things. I’m happy that I’m getting so many asks about Be a Man 3, but I have other AUs too (not only Daddy Sociopath) that nobody asks about🥲🥲🥲 I’m still happy though that everyone likes Steve not having luck in life

Later I will post another part of Daddy Sociopath btw🤭

[maureen-corpse]

extremely funny genre of post on this web site is when people forget about places with a population density below a few thousand per square mile and are extremely confident about everything

someone says "all right everyone if you need access to this particular thing here's how you can figure out how to find that thing in your area, step one do this" and then one or two reblogs later they reveal that there was actually a secret step one and secret step one is "live in a major city where tracking this down isn't actually that much of an issue for you in the first place"

[cappycodeart]

"The dead one! Yeah I haven't thought about her in a long time!"

A little theory I've had about Winter King's original motives based on his heartless comment about Betty and Ice King's original motives for kidnapping princesses in the first place...... clearly she gave off Bad Ex Vibes…

[spxcialistschnxx]

"Do you want some painkillers?"

The winter maiden was quiet for a while after he asked that question, as she didnt want to admit weakness right away.

But the pain kept getting worse and worwe untill she finally caved and gave him an answer.

".....Yes please."

[hypewinter]

Danny can no longer Go Ghost. Oh his powers work perfectly fine, but whenever he tries to transform, it seems as if the universe itself is screaming and begging him to not transform

So he goes to Clockwork who explains that Phantom has simply grown too powerful and that Danny simply needs to empower someone to act in his stead like an avatar

Unfortunately, Danny can't really choose anyone he knows. Tucker is not responsible with powers and the less is said about an empowered Sam, the better

It'd be absolutely hilarious if the avatar gets selected via a tournament arc. I imagine it wasn't Danny's idea but he was taking too long since he didn't want to burden anyone with this responsibility leading to the Observants deciding they'll take care of it. Cue all of Earth's heroes being summoned to an arena and told to fight until a victor is crowned. Really? This again? They all collectively groan. Meanwhile Danny is blissfully unaware of what's going on as he's back at the Clocktower trying to figure out the best candidate (the Observants thought they'd gain favor if they just surprised him with a new avatar).

I'm not honestly too sure how the tournament itself would turn out. Maybe the heroes would go along with it until they could figure out just what the reason for the tournament is this time. Maybe they would immediately jump to revolt. Punch first, ask questions later and all that. I could go either way to be honest.

All I really want is for the heroes to bust down the door and confront Danny about this whole tournament, ready to take down another crazy in power, only for this painful sleep deprived child to blink up at them, "What tournament?"

[iphoenixrising]

man your fic is so good but I have to ask, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy do you write Jason's accent like that? it keeps ending up somewhere between vaguely illegible and SUPER offensively classist and makes it hard to keep reading. Nobody else gets written that way and it doesn't even read like a Jersey accent because it's so extreme and it doesn't even seem to match. This isn't canon-based, so why???

So. I’m sure sending this under anon gave you the security to tell me how to write my own fics, and a year ago, I hid most my works on Ao3 because of a series of shitty comments from people that don’t take responsibility for their own reading experience.

In that time, I consider just clean sweeping everything. This blog, Ao3, FF.net. Just vanish into the aether and kill more than a decade of writing in one swoop. The people that matter know how to find me outside these platforms, so whatever.

But in that time, I’ve become pretty familiar with Reddit and TikTok, so most people could find my work in r/deletedfanfiction anyway. And the absolute entitlement of some people on TikTok talking shit about writers got my back right the fuck up, so we not gonna do that.

More importantly, in the last two months, I’ve suffered an injury that will take about a year to overcome. While I’m learning to re-walk again, these petty opinions are very much not as important as they used to be, and not as hurtful as they were when I was struggling with depression and a slew of other things.

So, to address your shitty take, I’ve made plenty of posts on how and why I write Jason’s accent and I’m not going to go over it again. Do your due diligence and read those posts. Second, you don’t like the accent, fuck off and don’t read my work. Third, send an ask under your username and be an asshole with some backbone.

Have the day you deserve.

[wof-inbox]

Laughs for exactly 30 seconds. Winter, if you HAD to marry any of the current Jade Winglet (Peril, no Umber, ect.,), outside of Moon and/or Qibli, who would you choose? >:]

And y'know what, while we're at it: Let's ask Turtle the same too! He can choose anyone but Jou. Laughs for another 30 seconds

”Ugh, you’re making me marry one of those losers? Kidding, I joke sometimes, Qibli is the only loser there. Hm, if I have to choose? Turtle. He seems nice, and I’m sure a marriage with a SeaWing- a Royal one especially, could benefit the tribe heavily.” -Winter “O-oh me? Uh- well I wouldn’t really mind marrying Moon.. she’s nice. O-or Winter too! He acts all mean, but he’s actually really kind to me! And he helps with my stories! B-but he doesn’t want anyone to know that!!” -Turtle

[plain text: Ugh, you’re making me marry one of those losers? Kidding, I joke sometimes, Qibli is the only loser there. Hm, if I have to choose? Turtle. He seems nice, and I’m sure a marriage with a SeaWing- a Royal one especially, could benefit the tribe heavily. // O-oh me? Uh- well I wouldn’t really mind marrying Moon.. she’s nice. O-or Winter too! He acts all mean, but he’s actually really kind to me! And he helps with my stories! B-but he doesn’t want anyone to know that!!]

[wardofwinters]

Discord has added a new ai thing btw https://www.tumblr.com/hollow-eldritch/776496299114676224?source=share

Yeah I heard, wild. Blocking it as best we can on my servers but I already have no-AI policies on them so should be known to users already on that end.

[folkbeast]

hello tumblr-ers, i haven't touched this site in 7 or 8 years. can anybody please tell me what the FUCK is a blaze

[shurisneakers]

“i can’t seem to understand you” with bucket bucky - hello i love you!!!

um hello i love you mORE

am i going back to my roots?? yes. i never left. here's an avengers 2012 style fic with my new forced family morons.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: mild thunderbolts spoilers, swearing, breaking and entering, mr avoidant over here

my masterlist over here and my silly little inbox for more requests, should you please

"First he leads us into the ass-kicking of our lives, now he's got us breaking into a random flat," Ava snipes, trailing behind the group. "What's the plan now, Bucky?"

"It is not his fault we got our asses kicked," Yelena squints as she looks up the brick wall.

"I don't need you defending me," he grumbles, jumping to catch hold of the fire escape.

"I'm not defending you," she says. "I'm calling all of us useless."

"We will break into tiny, New York apartment, and recover before we fight again," Alexei says. "Take nap, small lunch, then crush our enemies."

Bucky drags the fire escape ladder down to the ground, before wiping off his hands.

"No lunch," Bucky replies. "We're not staying that long. We just need a place to come up with a plan."

"Oh, we're taking the ladder? I figured you had another U-Haul around here to crash," John looks at the rackety old thing. "Can this thing even hold all of us?"

Bucky rolls his eyes, beginning the ascent. "Climb. Or don't. I don't care."

"Move." Ava shoves past him, following behind Bucky.

They crept up the side of the building, quiet enough for trained fugitives, loud enough to be annoying.

By the time they reached the third floor, Bucky was already prying open a window with enough force to snap the lock.

The window behind them hasn’t even clicked shut when a voice cuts through the room like a blade.

"You've got to be joking," your voice snapped from the doorway, sharp enough to stop all movement.

They all freeze.

You’re standing in the hallway, barefoot, holding a bat high up.

Yelena raises a tentative hand. “Uh-- hello?”

“Don’t.”

She puts her hand back down.

"What the hell Bucky?" you grit. "What the fuck are you doing here? And who are these people?"

"You guys know each other?"

"Hi," Bucky grunts, ignoring Walker and also the redness creeping up his neck. "These are--"

"The Thunderbolts."

"No." He glares. "They're helping me take down Val."

"Val? Congress Val? We're against her now?" you ask exasperatedly. "Last time we talked, you just got elected. Are you still in Congress?"

"You're in Congress?" Ava pipes up. "Didn't you kill JFK?"

"Not the point," Bucky groans.

"And they still elected you?"

"I'm not in Congress anymore."

"Oh goodie. Since when?" you ask.

"This morning." He rubs the back of his neck. "I didn't get time to call."

"Sure. You had time to break into my apartment, though."

"About that--" He glances back at the group who were standing around, clearly enjoying the beat-down he was facing. "We just need a place while we regrouped."

"To be clear, he did not tell us that he knew you. We thought we were going somewhere random," Walker juts in again.

"Oh, he's here too. Hello Craptain America. Which sewer did you crawl out of to be here?"

"I didn't even do anything," he mumbles stepping back.

"You've done enough."

"We'll leave if you just say the word," Bucky cuts in. "Swear. But we just need a few hours, and we'll be out of your life."

You stare at him for a few seconds. "Is someone gonna come break down my door looking for you?"

"No," he says.

“A door would not stop him anyway,” Alexei added, sounding entirely too cheerful. “But we will protect you. Not well. But we will try.”

You glance between all of them for a few seconds.

"Fine," you say at last. "If anyone comes looking for you guys, you're replacing anything they break."

Bucky lets out an exhale, as they all walk past him to sink down into various seats.

You turned without saying anything and walked down the hallway to the bedroom.

A minute passes.

Then footsteps.

He sees you leaning against the dresser, arms folded, phone still in hand.

Bucky stands in the doorway for a second, hesitant.

You look at him. “You gonna say something, or are you just here to breathe loud and feel sorry for yourself?”

He blinks. “Hi?”

“Try again.”

He sighs. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”

"No way, really?" you drawl. "But this is everything I've ever dreamed of."

"I don't get it. I can't seem to understand you." You shake your head. "You bring me flowers, disappear for three months, we kiss, you raincheck every dinner I cook for you and now you show up here with four assassins."

"You're mad," he says, observant as ever.

You stare at him. Bucky dutifully matches your gaze, forcing himself not to fidget.

"Bucky, why are you here?" you ask, voice deflated.

"I told you."

"You wanted a place to lay low. Is that all?"

He doesn't say anything. You search his face for anything, any sign.

He shifts on his feet. “I just needed somewhere safe.”

“And I’m what? A checkpoint?”

“No,” he says, too quickly, before adding in something more quieter, “You’re the first place I thought of.”

You sigh, folding your arms. “Are you in or are you out, Barnes?

His mouth is pressed into a thin line, arms crossed over his chest.

"Because if you are, and this is how it's going to be, I'm not interested. You're cute. I like you. But this isn't enough for me."

"'M sorry," He looks at you, softer now. "Things haven't been good. Didn't want to get you caught up in it."

"Yet here I am."

"I'm sorry about that too," he adds. "

You look at him for a long moment. At the cut above his brow. The dust on his jacket. The way his hands are clenched..

"You kept the bat." The corner of his lips quirk up into a smile.

“You should be grateful I didn’t swing it.”

“It’s got good balance,” he admitted.

He looks different up close. Same face, same eyes but worn thinner. Like he hadn’t slept properly in days. Maybe weeks.

You sigh. "Should I order pizza?"

"Yes," they all chorus from the living room. It catches you by surprise.

"Stop listening in," he barks.

"The walls are like, paper thin, man," Yelena says. "You should have thought of that before you brought us to your situationship's house."

“What the hell is a situationship?” he muttered, directing it toward you now. “Actually scratch that. I don’t care. Whatever it is, that’s not what we are.”

You raised an eyebrow, arms still folded. “No?”

"But there is a 'we', yes?" Alexei calls.

You look at Bucky. He looks back sheepishly, somewhat even helpless.

"Nope," you reply, moving past him to go to the band of morons out there. "There is no 'we'."

"I mean--" he mumbles.

"Classic lover's quarrel," he hears Alexei continues, like he's explaining this to someone. "Melina and I had them many times."

You roll your eyes. "How long do you have? Pizza's gonna take a while."

“You don’t have to feed us.”

"If you're gonna fight against this guy--"

"Bob," someone calls.

"Bob. If you're going to fight against Bob, you're gonna need more than a granola bar. When’s the last time any of you had a vegetable?"

You're met with a series of shrugs.

"Grown adults," you exhale, shaking your head before walking back into the bedroom to find your phone.

You thumb through the menu.

Something soft brushes against your hand. You swallow the thickness in your throat, refusing to tear your gaze away from the phone.

“Hey,” he says, and it’s almost too soft. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t move.

“I mean it. I’ll make it up to you.”

You glance at him.

"Look, I'm not trying to guilt you into--"

"It's not that. I've been meaning to." He swallows.

"Bucky--"

“I missed you,” he said, not quite looking at you. “I wish I could say I’ll get everything right from now on. I just��� I’m trying. I swear I’m trying.”

You swallow. Slowly.

“And it didn’t feel good. Not talking to you. Everything was happening, and the nightmares were back, and I kept thinking 'I should tell you this.' But then I didn’t. And it got worse.”

“You don’t get to drop that on me if you're gonna fuck off again.”

“I won’t.”

You stared at him for a long moment.

Then you tilt your head. “You know you owe me, like, three dinners.”

He gives you a small smile. "I'll buy you dinner for the rest of your life."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Congressman."

His eyes drifted toward the bat, still propped against the wall.

“You really were ready to clock me, huh?”

“I was aiming for Walker, but yeah. You were next.”

He smiles, and it's probably the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Are these your friends now?" you ask finally.

"They're not even my co-workers."

"Didn’t think you had co-workers anymore. As of, you know. This morning."

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “new job. No salary. No benefits at all, really.”

"You're gonna buy me dinner like this?"

"I'll figure it out."

You snort despite yourself. “You're gonna get someone killed.”

He shrugs again. “Probably me.”

He reaches out. Just lightly. Two fingers brushing against your pinky where your hand hangs.

Without thinking, he shifts just slightly closer. Not enough to close the space, but... there. He's back up in your space, and he fills it like he never left at all.

“I think about you,” he says, voice quiet like it's the one thing he wants to keep only for you both, "All the time."

"Sap," you say, but it feels airy. "Your 100 year old charm won't work on me. This doesn't fix anything."

"I know."

His fingers twitch like he’s about to pull away.

You catch them before he does.

“You disappear again like that,” you say, “I swing the bat next time.”

He smiles, head tilted. “Sure thing.”

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