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unironically i want doom shaped chicken nuggets

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always thinking about this

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It came to me in a dream

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got commed to draw my take on rick jones and genis-vell

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Gay Bruce Banner Caught LIVE On Camera 4k 1080P HD HQ DeluxeFootage

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I'd put you in the mirror / I put in front of me

(Genis & Rick based on Caravaggio's Narcissus)

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the first doodle i did of rick and bucky together for my au back in 2023

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whatever

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more random marvel stuff from the past few weeks

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insane to me that both writers and readers will act like rick just has a bad attitude during and soon after the mar-vell era like think for a minute... imagine you're freshly eighteen and got handcuffed to your dad with no hope of separation and now your stupid dad was watching and lecturing you on every single social interaction, mistake, whatever else. and he was always telling you what to do and yelling at you when you refused to comply. and all you wanted in the world was to determine the direction of your own life. but then as soon as someone finally fetched the bolt cutters, your dad suddenly died.

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Mar Vell

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T’challa glances at Bruce Banner. He has a way of looking at the world, does T’Challa. he takes in the whole sight in a single glance, gaze sweeping out and neatly categorizing things. A threat, a non-threat, a potential barricade, an escape route, a tool for the most efficient means to neutralize threats; he sees a room, and he determines all potential plans, and routes.

But he does not know what to think of Bruce Banner.

The good doctor holds his own hands tightly, fingers clasped, like a puzzle toy linked together. He hums to himself.

He realizes that T’challa has asked him a question.

“’M sorry,” he mumbles. His eyes are closed, dim behind those thick glasses. “What was that?”

T’challa does not trust appearances. He thinks that Banner looks childish. Vulnerable, something that people want to ignore, or to help. That touseled mop of hair, a beard gone too long without shaving, those eyes so heavily lined; he looks so much older than he actually is. Aged long before his time, haggard and weary and he is still the youngest among the first generation of heroes.

He’s younger than T’challa. He was fresh from the universities when the bomb found him.

Banner looks childish and vulnerable. He looks like a bewildered vagrant, confused and hurt and tired. And he is, in some respects, all those things.

But T’challa does not trust appearances.

Now, T’challa speaks again. “I asked,” he says smoothly. “If you do believe that the Hulk is a monster.”

Banner stirs. “No, no. Not at all. I used to think that. But… no, no. He’s not. He never was.”

T’challa inclines his head slightly in a regal gesture. “But you insist, on live television, that you are something to be feared.”

Bruce smiles faintly. “Didn’t mean the Hulk.”

“Then?” T’challa prompts, gently.

Banner’s eyes open now.

They glow green, like corpse-gas over dead things. Like the distant light of nuclear weapons going off, bright beacons in the dark. Or perhaps like novelty toy lights for a child scared of the dark, reflecting on blood all over the driveway.

Those eyes glow green and they look like doorways, opening onto something he dare not describe.

Banner smiles now. It’s a gentle smile, not terribly cruel or smirking; it is a sad expression, perhaps regretful for what must soon happen. “I’m the monster people are afraid of, that they should be afraid of.” His tone is almost apologetic, but a spiteful, triumphant note curdles beneath it. “I always was.”

He mutters something to himself:

“Little monster.”

He almost spits it, full of contempt and exhaustion.

T’challa does not ask what he means. It sounds like the whisper of a secret, shameful and awful, a painful reminder.

The Panther Goddess bestows insight. Suddenly, T’challa thinks of his father, and his memories twist cracked and broken, a distorted funhouse nightmare of everything that father’s should not be, and part of him mourns, and he does not know why.

Banner gazes into him. His eyes still glowing, green light shining forth like something from behind an opened door, and somehow, T’challa knows that he understands.

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(wip) rotating bruce in my mind .like this

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a batman fan can laugh while a hulk fan can merely chuckle

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uhm. okay