#Not Canon Compliant

[potpourrifandoms]

Out-of-context bits and pieces of my Ridiculous T'au Comic, part five! (Here's part one, two, three, and four)

[thevoidstaredback]

Bruce figured out their civilian identities pretty quickly. He had to, in order to recruit them. Either way, he knew the names of all of the Justice League heroes and they had no idea who he was.

Most of them either ignored their personas - like Wonder Woman and Green Lantern who didn't talk about their civilian life in costume or vice versa - while others - Superman - sang their own praises as civilians.

Superman's whole having three names thing was useful, and a pretty good cover, but Batman had spotted that the relationship between Clark Kent and Lois Lane was the exact one that Superman and Lois Lane shared, so that was a bit of a moot point.

Personally, Bruce liked his way of keeping people off his tail. Not only were Brucie Wayne and Batman polar opposites, but they were both each other's biggest haters. Although, Bruce publicly admitted that he thinks Batman has the right idea, just not the best execution. While Batman, not on record but definitely heard, has said that Bruce Wayne does good things for Gotham as a whole.

The kids all think it's hilarious, but no one - except Tim, but he's a special case - has managed to cement his civilian and caped identities as being the same person.

Well, maybe Harvey has, but that's because of a lot of reasons. As long as Two Face doesn't reveal that information, and Bruce knows he won't, then all's well.

The point is that Batman knows who the Justice League are outside of capes and masks, but they don't know who he is. Of course, revealing himself would mean revealing his kids, and they wouldn't like that if he was boring about it.

The only natural solution is to be over the top and dramatic about it.

He could keep his name to himself, but where's the fun in that?

Though, it'd be funnier if he managed to keep the appearance of Batman and Bruce Wayne hating each other, especially if he reveals that the Bat Cave is under Wayne Manor.

That'd be funny. His kids would be proud.

His kids will want in on this.

He's got some conspiring planning to do.

Storyboard Part 2

[ellecdc]

pls tell me that ur going to do smth with remus inspired by the werewolf post you reblogged 🙏 p.s I love your work!!!

hahaha I think you're referring to this post, so here's a small little baby blurb for ya <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader who doesn't want her to know too much about Moony [435 words]

CW: non-canon compliant description of werewolf behaviour, swearing [duh]

“Come on, Moons! Time to go!” James shouted as he burst through the portrait hole, officially announcing the end of your quiet cuddle on the three seater sofa with Remus. 

Remus made a defiant sort of grumble as he sank impossibly further into the cushions, essentially dragging you down with him. 

“Awe don’t do that.” Sirius said salaciously, throwing a wink in your direction. “Believe me, I’d rather be up here snuggling with Y/N too, but we’ve got plans for the night.” He explained, motioning with his head towards the sky no one could see through the castle ceilings. 

“Sod off.” Remus muttered; his arms circling you tighter at the insinuation you’d be snuggled up against any other bloke should he vacate the common room. 

James let out a theatrical groan, but his shit eating grin gave way to the fact that it was all for show. “That’s what we’re trying to do, Moons. So let's go! We’re sodding off.”

“Can you explain to me again why you have to go to the shrieking shack for this?” You asked slowly, rubbing the back of Remus’ hands that were locked around your middle in equal parts placation and encouragement to let go. 

Remus never had a chance to respond before Peter piped up. “S’cause Moony’s not housebroken.”

“I am too housebroken.” Remus shot stubbornly, causing Sirius to snort.

“Sure, Moons. I bet that’s why the only thing left of the cushions from the old sofa in there are all the feathers strewn about.” 

“There was something in the cushions!” He insisted. 

“Right, and we totally found whatever it was.” James agreed sarcastically. 

“It’s not only the furniture that’s not safe - he’s scratched the shit out of the walls and floors too.” Peter continued.

“Minnie would not be happy to find the Gryffindor common room in such a state.” Sirius added solemnly. 

“Okay…” Remus relented slowly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not housebroken.”

The three Marauders stared at Remus with different levels of bemusement. 

“Rem, Moons is so territorial that I’m pretty sure if Y/N joined us, you’d be lifting your leg to-”

“Okay that’s enough!” Remus spat quickly; lifting the entirety of your weight off his lap and placing you back onto the sofa. “Sorry, dove. I’ll see you in the morning.” He murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to your head before turning and shoving Sirius towards the portrait hole.

“Don’t worry,” James insisted as he walked backwards in the direction of his friends. “We’ve been working on him with positive reinforcement, but it’s slow going; he’s really quite dumb as a wolf-”

“PRONGS!”

[natalievoncatte]

It took four calls before Lena answered. It crawled across her side table, vibrating angrily like some persnickety insect until she gave it the attention she wanted.

You could just turn it off.

“What do you want, Danvers?”

Alex’s voice was thick.

“We can’t find Kara.”

Lena let out a slow, long, theatrical sigh. “So now you’re accusing me of crimes over the phone. At least your ex had the courtesy to cuff me in person.”

Alex’s patience was clearly short enough, and wearing thinner.

“I’m not calling you to accuse you. I’m calling you to ask for help.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because she’s burned out her powers and we can’t find her, Luthor. Supergirl is missing and she’s powerless.”

Lena licked her lips.

“Is this some kind of weird test to see if I’ll try to kill her? An entrapment scheme or something?”

“First of all,” said Alex, “fuck you.”

“Mutual,” said Lena. “What was the second part?”

“The second part is that I know you. I know you’re pissed off at her. I also know that you don’t react the way you’ve acted because your BFF lied to you, Lena. Just like I know that buying a $875 million company isn’t what friends are fucking for.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Lena snapped.

“Right. Help us find her.”

“No,” Lena said, coolly. “Goodnight, Director.”

Lena stabbed the end call key with her finger, resolving to herself that L-Corp was going to release a smart phone that made it more satisfying to hang up on people.

Then she very pointedly did not go out looking for Kara. Instead, she boiled water for tea, and spread open a technical journal on her lap.

After ten minutes, she had not drunk the tea, and her attention was sliding off the abstract like the wrong end of two magnets jammed together. Rubbing at her eyes, she decided she’d had too long a day for even light reading, and decided to enjoy a news broadcast with her tea.

Of *course* the lead story was Supergirl. She tried putting on the Lakehawks game, but that had been preempted for Supergirl coverage.

She turned to the science channel. Oh, of course they’d decided that tonight was the night to premier some ridiculous companion documentary for the World of Krypton exhibit running downtown at the convention center, and of course Lena works tune in right as Kara appeared on screen, grinning ear to ear as she charitably gave some literal kid reporter the interview of her lifetime, fielding softball questions about her dead planet.

“What do you miss most?” the kid asked.

Lena saw it, saw it the way only someone who knew Supergirl was just Kara Danvers, the nerdy, dorky, kinda basic goof in a pompous costume, could. The flash of real pain in the hero’s eyes, the softness in her voice, like she was apologizing for the honest of her answer.

“Red sunrises,” said Kara.

Lena threw the teacup across the room, and it shattered across the screen, leaving the dregs tricking down the surface. Lena wished the TV had been knocked out, but the screen was shielded by a transparent aluminum she’d invented herself.

So she changed the channel, just in time to get a face full of The Princess Bride, just as Buttercup was shoving a then-disguised Westley down the hill as he shouted the line the revealed his identity.

“Oh fuck you all,” Lena muttered, as she scooped her keys from the kitchen counter.

Lena decided it was a night for subtlety, so she took the BMW, driving with the top down and and her phone in her jacket pocket, so she could feel it if someone called.

Lena drove for the better part of an hour, reflecting on the absurdity of simply looking for Kara in a sprawling city; National City had about two thirds the population of Metropolis, but it covered nearly four times the land area and was surrounded by sprawling suburbs that extended the entire metro area to the size of a small state.

This was hopeless, unless Lena knew where to go.

You know what you have to do. You know what you’ve always had to do.

Kara answered on the third ring.

“Hi.”

Her voice was tiny and small, and Lena felt like she was clutching some small fragile thing to her cheek.

“Hey,” she said, with all the softness she could muster with the top down. She pulled to a stop on the side of Ocean Avenue so she could soften it further. “I heard what happened.”

“I beat the monster.”

“I know,” said Lena. “You always do. Where are you, Kara?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’t know who out you up to this, but you don’t have to do it, Lena. I know how you feel about me now.”

No, you fucking don’t, Lena thought, before she could silence her own frantic mind. If you knew you wouldn’t have lied to me.

“Tell me where you are.”

“I’m where I belong,” Kara sighed, the hint of slurring in her words hinting that she’d been drinking.

Then she hung up.

A wave of anger welled in Lena’s chest, and she clenched her teeth, seizing the shift lever to throw the car in drive and head home; Kara and her sister could handle their own bullshit.

She didn’t drive home.

Lena arrived at the convention center in a frantic five minutes, parking crazily in a towing zone. Finding a way in took another few minutes, and soon the flat soles of her tennis shoes were squeaking as they echoed across the polished granite floors of the lobby.

She found Kara in the exhibit, surrounded by quiet, dark displays as she stood in front of a bannered exhibit proclaiming “RAO, THE SUN OF KRYPTON”.

Kara ignored Lena as she approached, tipping back a sloshing, mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels to take a hearty gulp.

“Kara?” said Lena.

Kara swayed slightly on her feet. She’d gotten a raincoat somewhere and put it on over her suit, cape and all, and even from a distance she stank of whiskey. She was staring at the display in front of her, an expansive orrery surrounding a lit model of Rao. Lena had never seen her so haggard, even her lustrous hair limp sallow.

“Hi,” Kara said, taking another drink.

“What are you doing?”

“Chasing a red sunrise.”

Lena approached slowly, until they stood side by side.

She stole a quick glance. Kara had a black eye and she was swaying slightly, and Lena wasn’t sure if it was from the booze or the fight. She started to take another drink.

Grasping the bottle by the neck, Lena took it from her. Kara didn’t resist as Lena tipped back a long pull on the bottle herself. It offended her palate in every possible way but one, but it was a good way to numb herself.

“Alex send you?”

“No,” said Lena. “She just had to tell me. She knew I’d send myself.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a lot more observant than you are.”

Kara studied her for a moment, then reached for the bottle back.

Lena looked at it. “How much of this have you had?”

“Not enough,” said Kara, taking another drink.”

“If you insist on destroying your liver, at least let me give you something that actually tastes good.”

“It all tastes like paint thinner,” said Kara.

Lena sighed. “Get in the car.”

Kara shrugged and followed Lena out, flopping extravagantly in the passenger’s seat. Lena drove in silence, using the excuse that the wind noise made it too hard to talk.

When they arrived at Lena’s apartment, she practically shoved Kara inside, and poured the rest of the swill down the drain.

“Hey,” Kara muttered.

“There’s still some of your clothes in the guest bedroom. Take that damned suit off and put on something else.”

Kara complied, trudging into the bedroom. She emerged a moment later, looking small and sad with her hands tucked up inside an oversized hoodie, wobbling giving Lena a glassy look.

As she sat down, Lena handed her a glass of wine and perched on the edge of the couch cushion beside her, gently pressing an ice pack to her eye. Kara leaned into it and let out a soft, unsteady sigh.

“Pain hurts,” she observed.

“It’ll do that.”

Then she went quiet, sinking into Lena’s couch with Lena’s ice pack pressed to her face. Lena stepped into the kitchen and pulled out her phone. Alex answered immediately.

“I have her.”

“Thank God. I’ll be over to get her in a few minutes.”

“No you won’t,” Lena sighed.

Alex didn’t answer her for a too-long pause.

“Yeah. Call me in the morning.”

“Will do.”

Kara had found the wine bottle when Lena came back, and was taking a drink form it. Lena sat down next to her and took it, drawing on it hard before passing it back.”

“What now?” said Kara.

“Is the ice still cold?”

“Yeah.”

Kara curled up next to Lena, bringing her legs up, her toes wiggling in empty air. Lena sighed and found her a blanket, spreading it over her too carefully.

As soon as Lena sat down, Kara spread the blanket over her, too, and Lena noticed that her absurd body heat hadn’t abated from the loss of her powers.

“You have tea on your TV,” Kara observed.

“Yeah,” said Lena.

It took her a few minutes to find something on television that wasn’t Supergirl or The Fox and the Hound.

(Fucking seriously?)

Nature documentaries were Kara’s kryptonite, to turn a phrase, and soon she was sleeping on Lena’s shoulder, the ice bag fallen into her lap. Lena stared down at the soft features of the surpassingly lovely little goddess snoozing against her and couldn’t help it anymore.

She started to weep softly, her shoulders hitching as she struggled to stop it, knowing the attempt was hopeless.

It got worse when Kara began to purr, a deep and soothing rumble in her chest that seemed to seep into Lena’s bones. After a moment she realized that Kara was crying too; she’d woken up.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lena. I can’t… I can’t breathe I’m so sorry. I lost my red sunrise. I can’t lose you too. I’ll do anything. Please let me make it up to you I promise I will, please.”

Lena shifted to a more comfortable position, known this was it for the night, that something had shifted. No, shattered. She was tired of being angry, of being afraid, if thinking of could-have-beens and come-what-mays. Yes, Kara had lied. Lena had lied. They’d kept secrets and been stupid and and they’d hurt each other, but nothing in the world, no principles or closely held rules or petty anger would justify watching her suffer like this.

She was careful as she cupped Kara’s jaw, avoiding the injury, feeling a flash of rage at whoever had done this to her. (That his ass had been throughly kicked by an angry Kryptonian was irrelevant; her vengeance would not be forestalled.)

The kiss was quiet and gentle, at once too soft and quick, more request than declaration, and Kara swiftly answered with one so fierce and honest and hopeful that Lena didn’t care that Kara’s mouth tasted like whiskey and wine.

When it was over, Lena found herself whispering, “As you wish.”

[winfreak]

Sam falls apart when Dean dies. Even more so when he realizes he can't get Dean back. Ruby shows up and Sam is angry, lashing out.

She bends him over and beats him. It's like the tension melts out of his body. This was what he needed and he never even knew.

He weeps while she fingers him, babbling incoherently. She soothes his old aches while making new ones.

The first time he calls out Dean's name his heart sinks, stomach dropping. But then Ruby encourages it. "That's right, Sammy. Just want your big brother, huh?"

A dam breaks. Sam comes so hard he sees stars. From then on it becomes routine. Ruby trains Sam to drop at the snap of her fingers, taking care of him so good.

Then Dean comes back and he can't see Ruby anymore and it's like he can't function. He can't go back to before. Can't remember how he lived without it.

Dean finds out and he's furious and Sam aches. Ruby shows up and fights with Dean and then teaches him this new way to take care of his baby brother.

[nazu2chome257]

i have listened to nothing but an evening w silk sonic the entire day so here's TWO new updates to my #superbat #superbatweek24 work on ao3! featuring most of batfam!!! yippie!!!! lmk what ur thoughts are...

[joemothersfavoritechild]

“across the street” pt. 2

-3k-ish words

-mike schmidt x fem!reader

-no trauma au

an: thanks for all the love on my last post!! i took some inspiration from a few joel miller fics for this one. also, referring to the ending, gotta let it marinate or sum. and if you get the orange reference, marry me.

summary: you have a late night phone call with yk who, and build furniture in the morning.

part one is here!

————————————————————————————

You plopped down in your chair, sighing while rubbing hand sanitizer over your hands. Your shift had been busy as hell, this being the first break you had all day, and it was only halfway over. You wiped your now clean hands over your eyes, trying to rub the tired soreness out of them. At least the pay is good, you thought.

Your coworker calling your name pulled you away from your thoughts.

“25 wants you again.” They said.

“Why me?” You whined.

“I don’t know, I think she prefers women.” They answered your rhetorical, giving you a sympathetic smile.

“Fuck me, I’m going to have to take my lunch after this. I’m never working another Sunday.” You said, standing up on your practically creaking legs.

This was how the rest of your afternoon went, running in all directions like a chicken with its head cut off. “23 wants an ice cream,” “25 pulled out her IV again,” “Call security on 26, he’s trying to leave.” It was an absolute shit show, you hardly had a chance to see the time on your phone, let alone check for a text that you were desperate to receive.

Your drive home was quiet, soft music playing to hopefully decompress you. It always seemed to help. You pulled into your driveway, noticing the lights on at a certain someone’s house across the street, his old Accord telling you that he was home. You turned your car off, trying to stop looking at it from your rearview.

Walking into your house wasn’t as satisfying as you’d hoped, boxes still covering the floor. You took your shoes off as you set your work bag on the ground. You looked at your bed frame again in the dark, not bothering to turn a light on. Was a day too early to expect a message? Was that considered desperate? Probably, you thought. But fuck, you were so desperate. He checked all the boxes,

cute? : check

siblings? : check

caring? : check

a little mean? : check

dorky as hell? : check

abandonment issues? : probably check!

You forced yourself to pull your eyes off the box. As the saying goes, a watched fish doesn’t get caught.

That’s not right, you think. Your tired brain can’t decipher what you were trying to go for, but you knew it would’ve worked.

Anyways, constantly thinking about someone texting you doesn’t help anything. You plugged your phone into the charger near the couch, purposefully ignoring staring at it for too long.

Your eyes fell back to the boxes surrounding you. You passed them all, going straight to your bathroom to shower.

The shower was the right call, you decided. Scorching water loosened your muscles and kept your mind in the present. Washing the outside world off your skin was the highlight of your day.

You got out of the shower, eventually. The warm water didn’t last as long as you had hoped, though it did try. Your nearly hour-long shower would overwhelm any water heater on the market. You quickly dried yourself off, taking the time to brush your teeth and apply your skincare before wrapping your towel around yourself and stepping into your bedroom. You threw on some pajamas from your suitcase that moved with you; pajama pants and an old shirt.

You balled up your work clothes into your towel and put them all in the laundry basket in the corner of your room, already beginning to overflow. You reminded yourself to start the laundry sometime tomorrow as you walked back to your temporary bed, the large green couch in your living room.

You pulled back the covers on the couch, piling into it. You had completely decked it out; two blankets, a comforter, two pillows (one for your head, one for between your legs), and the fan dialed up. You closed your eyes, listening to the white noise of the fan above you.

You were interrupted by the shrill noise of your phone ringing behind you. You groaned, folding your blankets over so you could get off the couch and walk to the charger. You ripped your phone off the charger, taking it with you as you laid back into your bed. You re-adjusted your blankets before pulling the phone under your ear and swiping to accept the call.

“Hello?” You said groggily.

“Hey.” A voice responded. It took you a moment, but eventually, you recognized it. You were suddenly awake with nervousness.

“Hey, Mike.”

“Hi. Um, I texted you,” He said, sounding more like a question than a comment. “A few times, not a big deal. I just wanted to make sure you were alive.” He joked.

You paused, trying to quickly check your messages.

“You there?” He asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here. Sorry, I’ve been working all day. It was super busy, so I didn’t have time to check my phone, and when I got home all I was thinking about was sleep.” You described.

“No need to be sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.” You responded.

“Good, good,” He pauses. “So, um, how was your day?”

“Pretty shitty.” You summarize, hearing him laugh in the background.

“Tell me about it.”

So, you did. You proceeded to tell him all the gritty details about your job. What your coworkers are like, the patients that you had to deal with, the frequent fliers, all of it. He asked a lot of questions, making you feel more comfortable rambling on to him.

“What’d you have for lunch?” He asked.

“I had leftover wingstop, I barely have any food at the house.”

“What’s your order?”

“Eight-piece boneless, classic hot. With fries, ranch, and a huge coke. It was amazing,” You said, practically salivating remembering it. “What about you and Abs?” You asked.

“It was very fancy, I don’t know if you’re prepared to hear me talk about it, you might be jealous,” He said sarcastically. “I made cheese quesadillas.”

You laughed a little too long at that, surprised. He was funny, another check.

You talked on the phone for a while, so long that you were talking about the most boring stuff. Like how Abby was a picky eater, and it annoyed Mike because all he wanted to do was eat a good burger now and again. It was sickly sweet and felt like being a teenager again. Whispering as to not wake your parents up, hoping that they wouldn’t catch you up past your bedtime.

You’re not sure when it happened, but you fell asleep on the phone. Mike was talking about something, maybe about the tv show he had been watching. You’re not exactly positive, but you know that you passed out cold.

Your eyes fluttered open, the phone still pressed up against your cheek, warm from the contact. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep your dream in your mind. You had to think hard, as it was delicate. If you let it go, you’d never remember what it was.

It was a good dream, as most of yours tended to be. You didn’t remember a lot, only pieces of it. But you knew Mike was there. You knew that he had led you to your bed, pulling you under the covers with him. You talked, cuddling close to him. God, it had felt so real. You could practically see the lines under his eyes and the pores on his nose. You smiled, but this felt a little creepy at this point. Borderline delusional, your mind added. You barely knew him and you were already dreaming about him.

You grabbed the phone from under your face, groaning as it got unstuck from your skin. Thankfully, it wasn’t dead. You unlocked it, taking the opportunity to look at the texts that you had gotten the night before.

Yesterday, 12:36 pm: hey, this is mike. i’ll need you on the weekends from 8 am-4 pm. and idc that you said not to pay you, i’m building your bed too.

Yesterday, 2:49 pm: you okay?

Yesterday, 5:03 pm: not to be creepy, but i think i’m going to call you. you’re worrying me a little lol

Today, 1:45 am: i think you fell asleep, i’ll talk to you in the morning :)

You smiled, making a contact for him. “mike <3” was now typing. Three little dots popped up on your screen and you quickly swiped out in nervousness. You opened it again when you got a notification.

Today, 10:23 am: i dropped abby off for school and slept in a little, is it okay if i come over to build that bed frame for you?

You smiled again, quickly replying to make up for last night.

Today, 10:24 am: yeah, ofc. give me a few minutes to wake up lol, i need to brush my teeth and clean up for a second.

He replied immediately.

Today, 10:24 am: lmk when you’re ready

You willed yourself to stop smiling, god it had been too long. You hardly knew how to act with a potential date.

“Oh, god.” You muttered to yourself, realizing you had to talk to him. Why did you have to talk to a man to get a boyfriend? Why couldn’t it just happen telepathically?

You sighed, rolling off the couch. You plugged your phone back into the charger, making your way to the bathroom. You completed your morning routine and ran to your bedroom to pick something out to wear for the day. You decided to go for casual, grey sweatpants and a green hoodie. Didn’t want to seem too desperate. You pulled your socks up your feet, laughing at yourself.

You grabbed a quick breakfast from your kitchen, consisting of leftover cookies and a slice of cold pizza. You tried your best to tidy your place up, moving boxes to the corner of the living room. Running down the hallway to your bedroom with your boxed bed frame in hand, you placed it on the floor, taking the other boxes and moving them to the hallway. You scrubbed your toilet and sink, turning on the air fresheners you had placed around the house.

You washed your hands, drying them before returning to the living room. You texted Mike, letting him know that you were ready. He liked the text message, and in less than two minutes he was knocking on your door.

You eyed the door at the noise. Jesus, he was not playing around. You took another deep breath, opening the door to see him standing there with a small smile. He went for casual too, you noted. He wore a black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats. He held a bag, which you assumed was full of tools.

You smiled at him as a greeting and opened the door wider to allow him to walk into your house.

“Hey.” He said as you walked past you.

“Hi, thanks for coming so quickly.” You responded. “You didn’t have to, the payment feels premature.” You joked, shutting the front door. He looked a you for a second while taking his shoes off at the entryway.

“Shut up, you can’t sleep on the couch for a week”

“I totally can.” You bite back.

“You won’t, where’s your bedroom?” He finished, looking at you again.

You were shocked into silence, feeling your cheeks warm up. The comment made your head spin. Fuck, could he tell that you liked that?

You said nothing, ignoring his little smirk as you walked him to your bedroom. He followed behind you, dropping the bag on the floor with a small thump.

“Do you need any help or something?” You asked finally, breaking the tense silence.

“No, I’m good. I’ve done a lot of stuff like this,” He answered, shrugging. “You could put on some background music?” He suggested.

“That, I can do.”

You nodded, pulling your phone out of your pocket. You hesitated, before choosing a slower playlist of yours. Something calm, that you didn’t have to focus on. He nodded in enjoyment, then began to open the box that held your bed frame. He spilled the contents onto the floor, then kneeled on the ground. He started pulling stuff out of his bag. You guessed correctly, it was full of tools.

You just watched, sitting down against the wall of your room. It was attractive, him expertly putting your bed frame together. He was good with his hands, you wondered what else he was good at. He looked at you after a moment.

“You just gonna watch?”

“If that’s okay.” You shrugged, he nodded at your sort of question. He tried to hide his smile.

He was going to town, drilling, piecing parts together, all while completely ignoring the instructions. He didn’t need them.

After a while, you could tell he was getting hot. His black shirt was sticking to his skin. You hated to admit that it did something to you. You felt a warmth settle in your stomach and tried your best to will it away. Your eyes settled on his back, looking up to his neck when he turned towards you.

“Why’re looking at me like that?” He asked, eyes narrowed out of curiosity.

You made eye contact with him like a deer in headlights. Smiling at you, he laughed a little. Your words were stuck in your throat, embarrassed about being caught.

“Um, do you want some water?” You settled on.

“Sure.” He answered, chuckling at your suddenly shy demeanor.

You stood up off the floor and walked out of your room, closing the door behind you. What the fuck was that? You scolded yourself, internally. Now he was going to think that you were a horny weirdo. I mean, you were, but he didn’t need to know that yet.

You shook your head at yourself as you poured him a glass. This was ridiculous, you needed to chill out.

You came back into the bedroom and handed him the glass. He took it from you gratefully, fingers brushing over yours as he grabbed it. Telling you a small “thank you,” he brought the glass to his lips and began to drink greedily. You watched him as he downed the glass, some dripping down his chin.

When he was finished, he wiped a hand over his stubble. He looked over to you, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He held the glass out to you and you took it, quickly walking out of the room.

You placed the glass in the sink, blinking to try and bring yourself back to life. How did someone make drinking water look so good? How was that even possible? And god, the look he gave you.

You needed to get it together before you blew it. Talk to him, say something, anything other than just fucking staring at him.

You walked back into the room with a mission, you were going to talk to him. Taking your spot on the floor, you cleared your throat.

“So, what’s your favorite food?” You decided on.

He barely paused before answering, “Definitely pasta, like a good chicken alfredo.”

“Shit, that’s a good answer. I’m really into sushi right now. Can’t afford it, but into it.” You said, smiling at his willingness to answer.

The stupid questions continued for a few minutes. The two of you got to know the smallest details of your likes and dislikes. Turns out, Mike can’t stand the color yellow but loves orange. He’s not much of a drinker, mainly because he can’t afford it, but he does occasionally smoke weed. He’s a cat person but would get a dog if Abby asked for one. It killed you when he talked about his sister because it was so obvious how much he loved her.

Eventually, he finished your bed frame. The gentleman that he is forced him to carry your mattress in from the laundry room, helping you set that up too. Mike may have been on the shorter side, but he was strong as hell. The two of you put on your sheets, blankets, pillows, and finally your comforter. It was almost too domestic, too real.

When you were finished, you didn’t want him to leave. You think he felt the same. This was confirmed when he saw the tv sitting in your closet.

“Do you want me to mount that for you?” He asked.

I want you to mount me, you fought against saying.

“That would be great.” You agreed.

Mike probably spent three hours helping you put your bedroom together, setting up shelves, arranging your cabinets, and helping you put your pictures and posters up while you talked his ear off.

Even though you told him a million times that he didn’t need to, he hung your clothes up in your closet while you folded the rest to go in your new dresser. Finally, your room was fully decorated and unpacked.

He rubbed his hands together, settling on the end of your bed. You sat next to him.

“Thank you, seriously. I was dreading doing all of that by myself.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said.

You both looked at each other for a second too long, the tension between the two of you becoming thick. You took breaks from looking at his eyes by moving down to his lips. You took a deep breath, noticing him moving closer to you.

He hesitated, pushing a stray hair behind your ear instead. His hand lingered on your face, eventually moving down your arm to put your hand in his. He interlocked your fingers together, pulling it close to him and pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles. He held you there, hand resting on his chin. This was almost more intimate than a kiss, you thought.

“Do you not-” You started, getting interrupted.

“I want to, believe me.”

You looked at him, willing him to continue.

“I don’t want you to think that’s all this is.” He explained, you nodded. You know that this was him being respectful, but it made you want to tear his clothes off even more. Forbidden fruit, if you will.

“Let me take you on a date, tomorrow on my lunch break. I know a place you’d like.” He continued.

“Okay.” You said, smiling.

————————————————————————————

**i do not give anyone permission to use my work as your own, respectfully

this belongs to @joemothersfavoritechild **

[anti-the-glitch-bitch]

The Phantom Soldier

@codename-alias Thanks to this beautiful person I've started a new story. It's going to be covering harsh topics such as torture, PTSD, and whatever else I come up with in the future. So, if this isn't for you then just rest assured I'll soon get back to posting about Danny and the Batfam.

Chapter 1- You with those sad eyes

Tensions are still high between Tony and the Rogues after the incident in Siberia. Once Steve had gotten far enough away, he’d given Pepper a call to send someone for Tony, feeling guilty about leaving him stranded in the cold as injured as he was. It’s a couple of months before Tony is healed both physically and mentally from the pain that Steve had wrought upon him, but he does eventually use the phone that Steve had left behind. 

Steve had apologized for what had happened in Siberia but doubles down when anyone says anything bad about Bucky. Tony had realized that both of them had acted in the heat of the moment but ultimately still feels betrayed at the secrets that should have been aired long before that moment, and can’t quite trust Steve to have his back.

Bucky holds such phenomenal guilt at the anguish he had caused that he hides in Steve’s room back at the tower most of the time. Anytime Tony and he are in the same room together, Bucky immediately disappears in the hopes that Tony won’t hate him any more than he does. It helps to soothe some things in Tony, but until they talk it out everyone walks around on eggshells.

While the two teams try to figure out a way to balance this fragile truth, Steve brings to light the Hydra cells that still seem to be in play even after the mass info dump. They’re so well hidden that Steve and Natasha can’t figure out where to go even with her amazing hacking skills. So, they think that maybe Tony might have better luck, and luck he has in spades. 

Tony creates a program that searches for key files by infiltrating the entire net, no matter how deep it has to dig. Anything that had to do with Hydra, the Winter Soldier Program, or the Super Soldier Serum is viciously dug into and scrutinized. They manage to find several active Hydra cells in this way, although, by the time the teams get there, the entire place is always emptied of everything but the office furniture.

It isn’t until they come across a small piece of information about something called The Phantom Soldier that Tony decides that they need to use a different tactic since they are obviously not getting anywhere. When Tony asks Bucky if he’d heard of or seen this “Phantom Soldier Project”, Bucky pales.

“Well, that’s not a good sign. Come on, out with it. What’s got you looking so scared?” Tony asks as he leans up against the kitchen counter.

“The Phantom Soldier was something I was supposed to train,” Bucky says. “My handlers liked to talk about Phantom, and from what I could piece together when I broke free, it was a kid. Or…something that looked like a kid. Hydra made a deal with some government agency called GIW. They believed that ghosts are real and have the ability to mimic human form while only having a more animalistic mind. The GIW captured one who looked like a kid but had more power than the gods.” Bucky looks apprehensive as he continues, his expression darkening. “I don’t know what Hydra gave them in return for this kid but one of the few things I do remember is them hooking up a teenager to the chair. The one that wipes minds. That wiped my mind.” He sits down in one of the chairs at the island, avoiding Tony’s gaze..

“That sounds both insane and horrible. How come you didn’t bring this up before?” Tony asks, crossing his arms.

With his head in his hands, Bucky groans, “Because I thought it was just more nightmares. I can only remember bits and pieces of Phantom and I really thought it was just one of the many things that I’d made up. I mean, who actually believes ghosts exist?”

“I would say no one does but I would be lying. The things we’ve seen make me believe in a lot nowadays.” Tony starts messing with his phone. “Friday, add all this information to the search parameters and see if we can’t find something. Make this a high priority.”

“Sir, it would appear that someone has tried to do a media blackout for anything related to Phantom,” Friday replies. “I’ve started the process of deciphering all information and tracing back to whoever might be placing these orders,” she informs Tony as large files of information are dumped into his phone. It’s going to take him hours to go through everything.

“I don’t care where it leads back to,” Tony says. “Find out what’s going on and who’s doing it. Quietly, if possible. If not, well, they can try and do something about it. See where it gets them.”

~~~                                                           

It takes almost a year before Friday can track down a Hydra cell that still seems to be active. More pieces of information are found about The Phantom Soldier the deeper Friday digs. Like how they acquired the subject when it appeared to be 16. The different ways they tortured the creature. How it seemed to have a weakness to electricity. A few pictures are even found to go along with some of these reports.

The more information Tony goes through, the more sickened he feels.

Tony has to find this kid. 

Thankfully, Friday is able to narrow down the location of the cell and finds it outside a small town in Missouri. The population of the town is only in the hundreds and seems to be isolated enough that the nearest city is two hours away. A perfect place for Hydra to hide.

Tony has both teams meet him in one of the meeting rooms for a debrief.

Natasha, Steve, Bucky, and Sam all sit next to each other while Vision, Wanda, and Pietro sit at the end. Tony stands at the front of the table where a large TV sits on the wall. Rhodey, Bruce, Clint, and Peter sit on the other side. Tony had tried to get Peter to stay behind but the teen had heard about the torture that the Phantom Soldier had gone through and wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, rather than argue with him, Tony let him in on the meeting. Besides, the kid might be able to help in the long run.

“Friday found the base for an active Hydra cell near a small town in Missouri. From the heat signatures, the base is extremely large.” Tony activates a hologram that sits in the middle of the table. It spreads across the table showing off the building and the surrounding areas, including the entire town. 

“From the thermal images Friday has been able to get, there are a large number of Hydra inside. There’s a particularly large cold spot that I think might be where they’re holding Phantom,” Tony says, glancing around the table at everyone. “The security in this place is some of the most high-quality shit. Obviously, it’s still not as good as mine, but some of it is better than what the army has. Friday will be able to hack into it, but someone needs to get her into the system first.”

Natasha clears her throat. “I’ll sneak in to activate her. What kind of security are we looking at?”

Tony flicks his wrist and the hologram changes to show a bunch of different devices. “Their security cameras have both thermal and night vision with very few blind spots. I should be able to give you a jammer that will loop the feed for a few minutes,” he says. “There’s something in the walls that I haven’t figured out what they’re for, but they do have an off switch. They aren’t supposed to inflict harm,  that much I do know. I think it’s some kind of shield, but with an amount of power usage that I’ve never seen.”

He zooms in on a couple of the devices, rotating them so the holograms can be seen from all angles. “Some traps are embedded into the ceiling in case of any subjects escaping, although they only come down if an alarm is sounded. I’ll cook up something that will help you out just in case. You’ve got the typical guards patrolling the place.” Tony zooms back out and surveys his former teammates. “That was all I could find so far. The notes mention something about ‘ectoplasm’, but I haven’t been able to find anything out about it, so I’d just watch out for anything suspicious.”

Natasha nods. “Maybe Bruce can find something out about it from his peers? If it has anything to do with ghosts, then there has to be some kind of information floating about in the scientific field?”

Bruce quickly adjusts his glasses as he speaks up. “I asked around if anyone had heard of anything like ectoplasm and when I mentioned ghosts they laughed at me,” he says. “If it is connected, then the information is so well hidden that the rest of the community has never heard of it.” 

Peter raises his hand as he looks around at the group nervously.

Tony sighs and rolls his eyes. “Kid, this isn’t school. You don’t have to raise your hand.”

“Oh, uh, ok.” Peter looks at Tony before pressing on. “When I was starting middle school, there was this thing going around on Facebook. Some kid from a town called Amity Park was talking about how haunted their town was. The posts continued for a few weeks before it just stopped. When I tried looking into it, all I could find was a deleted account.”

“So, besides talking about how haunted it was, was there other information?” Steve asks. 

Peter nods. “Yeah. This kid would talk about whatever ghost seemed to be attacking the town. After a while, they started talking about this ghost called Phantom that would fight the other ghosts. The kids seemed to like him alright but none of the adults could stand him. The kid even posted a video of one of the attacks but the quality was really bad and it was hard to see what was going on. Something about some ghost called Skuller or Scaller or something. It was like something was interfering with the video.” He shrugs and relaxes back in his seat. 

“Huh. I'm surprised the media didn't pick up on that. Sounds like something that would definitely grab the news attention,” Sam says, leaning forward slightly. 

Wanda stops looking at the hologram to stare down Tony. “It doesn't surprise me that someone shut down any way for this kind of thing to get out. In the world we live in now, it wouldn't surprise us to find out ghosts are out there, but back then? It would cause panic and fear. Not to mention the army trying to figure out how to turn them into weapons if they can.”

“Except Hydra found out about it first and it looks like they turned this ghost kid into a weapon. How much you wanna bet they're the ones behind the blackout?” Sam says. 

Nat scoffs and shakes her head. “That's not a bet I'm willing to take. I'm surprised this wasn't part of the info dump that went out. Otherwise, this news would have been everywhere.”

“Maybe a completely cut-off section of Hydra? One that wasn't part of the rest of the system, but how that’s possible I don't know.” Steve says with a shrug, while the rest of them wonder how something so monumental could have been kept hidden for so long. 

“When are we heading out?” Rhodey asks. “And who's going? A facility this large means you're going to need a lot of backup.”

Pietro scoffs at the assessment and everyone turns to look at him. He shrugs. “I could take out the entire place in seconds. I could do that before your computer even hacks the place.”

“Is that so?” Tony says, crossing his arms. “What are you going to do if you come across this ectoplasm stuff and you can't get past it? Or it hurts you, or it negates your speed? We don't have enough information about this place for you to go in unprepared. Maybe after we get the defenses taken down you could, but it's still dangerous with that Phantom character around.”

Wanda hits her brother's arm lightly. “Think before you speak, brother. Not all problems can be solved with your abilities.”

“Most can,” Pietro mumbles quietly enough that no one comments on it. 

“As for everyone going,” Tony says as he claps his hands together, drawing the attention back to him, “We need Nat to sneak in and get Friday into Hydra’s system. Everyone else hangs back until security is down and their alarms are useless. Then Cap and his bestie can break down the front door while the twins go in the back. I want Vision to hang back until we find out just where and how to help this kid.” 

He shifts his attention to Rhodey and Bruce, who are sitting next to each other. “Sam and I will be air support while Rhodey makes sure the army comes running to sweep up the mess we are definitely going to be making. We don't know what state this kid is gonna be in if we even find him, so I'm going to have Cho stay on the plane with Bruce as her assistant. I don't think we'll need mean and green, but I'd feel better if Cho had someone with her, just to be on the safe side.”

“Mr. Stark, what do you want me to do?” Peter says, looking excited about the prospect of getting to go on an Avengers mission. He’s never gotten to go with the team on these sorts of things, but he really wants to go and help the poor soul that's been tortured. 

“Yeah, no. You are gonna stay here and man the helm. Your aunt would kill me if I let you go,” Tony says as he waggles a finger at the kid. It may be childish but nobody ever said he was mature. 

Peter sputters his protest as he stands up, gesturing wildly as he talks. “I can help! I swear I won't get in anybody's way or get hurt. I can even be backup like Mr. Banner! Mr. Stark, please, please, let me go with you.”

Peter pulls out his ultimate weapon and gives him the puppy eyes. The others look away except for Clint, who has kids and has become immune to that look no matter what his wife says. 

“No. Nu-uh. Nope. Not happening. Absolutely not.” Tony completely avoids the look by staring down at his phone. “There's no telling what this kid can do and I'm not going to be the one to tell May that you got hurt because you wanted to tag along on a mission way above your pay grade. You can monitor the progress from the safety of the tower and that's final.”

With a sigh, Peter drops back into his chair the way only a teenager can. “Fine but I get to meet him once you get him back here and patched up.”

The genius stares at his apprentice for a moment, just long enough to make the teenager squirm in his seat. “We'll see.”

“How long before we're ready to go?” Steve asks as he watches Peter slump in his seat, defeated. 

“I'll leave now and let the higher-ups know to be ready. Let me know when we can move in.” Rhodey says as he stands up and hugs Tony before leaving the room. 

“Be prepared to go by midday tomorrow,” Tony replies “Hopefully, Friday will have even more detailed information for us.”

The groups leave after that, all going their separate ways to get ready for the mission. All except Peter who glumly goes back to Queens to do his evening patrol. 

~~~

“Okay, people! We land in 10. Everyone knows their part, so do your last-minute checks now.” Natasha says from the pilot seat of the Quinjet. 

Everyone adds the last bit of necessary items to their persons as the jet lands. 

Natasha leaves the jet first, quickly and quietly easing herself into the building unseen. Tony had been able to get better pictures of the guards and had made her a matching outfit to go over her Widow outfit. Between that and the face cloaking device she wears, she’s unrecognizable. 

It doesn’t take long for her to find an empty office with a usable computer. After powering up the device, she sticks the flash drive holding Friday in. It only takes five minutes before Tony is on the comm telling her the security system is down and all parties are go for entry.

It doesn't take long for the Hydra agents and staff to start rushing around in a panic. Pietro finds Natasha almost instantly knocking out any guards that come around. 

“Hold your breath. Tony wants me to take you to the lab where the scientists are,” Pietro says, grabbing Natasha’s arm with one hand and bracing her neck and head with the other. 

This isn't the first time he's done this to one of the team members. They've all practiced this maneuver during training so that the motion doesn't catch anyone unaware. So, she does what he says without question. 

It barely takes a second as they zip through halls faster than the eye can see. Thankfully, Natasha’d had the foresight to put her hair up so that the flowing red locks wouldn’t tangle into a horrid mess. The sudden stop unbalances her for a second.

The entire room of scientists are in shock as Natasha and Pietro suddenly appear. The scientists startle as their brains finally kick into gear but before they have the chance to react, Pietro already has them tied up with tape around their mouths.

“Well, that was easy,” Natasha says amusedly. “What’s in here that he wants…” She trails off as she looks around. On one wall are large screens showing off a lot of information on one subject. Hurrying over to them, Natasha takes pictures of each screen so they can be inspected much closer later.

Going through a computer, she finds a file on The Phantom Soldier Project. Not only does it include information about the various ways they tortured the subject, but it also has information on how they’re controlling it. The file also tells her exactly where the kid is now.

“If anyone can hear me, Phantom is in a cell on the Northwest side,” Natasha says into her comm. “His room has those weird shields in the wall preventing him from getting out, so you might have to break down the door. There should also be a collar around his neck that prevents him from using his abilities. Someone try to get to him before Hydra activates him!” As she speaks, Nat pulls out another flash drive and starts downloading all the files she can get her hands on.

“We’re on it,” Steve replies into the comms.

Natasha pulls the flash drive out of the computer and places it in a nearly invisible pocket in her suit. “The lab is secure and I’ve got the flash drive. Anyone need help?”

“I could use-” Clint’s sentence is cut off by a grunt as a Hydra agent manages to kick him in the knee. He’s at a disadvantage as the number of agents overwhelms him. 

Natasha doesn’t have to say anything to Pietro before he’s rushing her to Clint’s side. 

There are small burns all over Clint from the guns that Hydra has, something the two Shield agents have never seen before. The gun barrel glows a bright neon green with the same colored smoke coming off it. Clint grits his teeth from the sharp pain.

Natasha and Pietro make quick work of the agents, taking a few of the guns in the process. 

“What in the hell is this powered with?” Clint grunts as he stands up, grabs a dropped gun, and looks it over. “Is this that ectoplasm that Tony was talking about? It hurts like a bitch.”

Suddenly, a large explosion shakes the entire building and several alarms go off, bathing the hallways in red. A high-pitched scream echoes through the comms along with static and sharp crackling.

“What was that?” Tony shouts, sounding slightly distracted.

“Wasn’t from my end,” Natasha and Wanda say at the exact same time.

Clint and Natasha look at each other with concern on their faces. “Steve.”

~~~

“We’re on it,” Steve says, grunting as he takes a gut punch from an agent.

Bucky appears suddenly and picks the agent up. As if the guy weighs nothing, Bucky throws him at a wall, swings around, and punches another agent in the face with a harsh crunching noise. With a practiced elegance, the two super soldiers dance around each other with ease, each fending off a blow that was aimed at the other. They’d spent so much time together that they knew each other's movements without having to communicate it.

By the time they’ve gotten the agents taken care of, the floor is littered with bodies. Most are unconscious but there are a few who met the wrong end of Bucky’s guns. There are scorch marks mixed in amongst the blood splatters along the walls from these new weapons, but Steve and Bucky’s bodies are already healing, leaving behind red welts instead of burns. 

“We need to hurry, Steve,” Bucky says. “If Hydra has done to this kid even half of what they did to me, then we’re going to be in for a rough time. We have to hope that they haven’t been able to activate him.” Bucky continues in the direction they were headed before they got ambushed.

“What do you remember about this kid, Bucky?” Steve asks as he takes off after him.

“He wasn’t human. They made him wear this thing that prevented him from using his powers. It was a collar but it would inject him with this poison so that he was too weak to escape. They made me train him to fight without any of his abilities so I don’t know what he can actually do.” Bucky grimaces slightly as he continues. “They were still trying to turn him into an obedient little soldier when I left. Something about his physiology prevented the chair from being completely effective.” He sounds regretful. His role in this made him ashamed even if it wasn’t his fault.

“Did they try and add any…accessories to him like they did with you?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know. Well, I don’t remember,” Bucky replies.

They slow down as they come to a section of the building on the northwest side. It’s glowing slightly with the same neon green that came from the Hydra weapons. Steve’s pretty sure that this is the correct area, but he doesn’t want to be wrong and come across another new weapon that Hydra has made. 

The hallway they’re in is filled with steel doors. There must be about fifty doors lining both sides of the hallway with no markings on most of them. Bucky and Steve each cautiously open a door and find that the room inside is an empty cell. 

The rooms are dark, with only the light from the hallway shining in letting them see just how barren it was. The only things in the rooms were a simple toilet, sink, and bed. Leaving the door open, Bucky and Steve move on to the next room.

They check room after room, only to find them all empty. When Bucky gets to a door marked with a number, he whistles to get Steve’s attention.

The room is locked and they don’t have the time to find the keys, so they try to bust down the door. With both of them kicking down the door at the same time, it finally dents inward enough to peel away from the walls. Both of them grab a side and pull, using the entirety of their strength until they’ve ripped the door off the hinges.

Inside is a kid who looks like they’re on their deathbed. They’re lying on the bed with their back to Bucky and Steve. Neither Bucky nor Steve can hear a heartbeat, but the kid doesn’t stop them from coming into the room.

This room is brighter than the others, a soft green light bathing everything in a sickly glow.

“Hello?” Steve walks forward cautiously.

The kid doesn’t move and they still can’t hear a heartbeat. When Steve finally gets over to the kid, he puts two fingers on their neck to check the pulse. There’s no heartbeat and the kid’s skin is cold to the touch. With a sad sigh, Steve leaves the kid where they are and turns to Bucky. Bucky looks upset when Steve shakes his head, but there’s nothing either of them can do, so they move on.

They quickly realize that the doors with no markings are all empty, so they only go after the doors with markings. With each unmoving kid that they find inside, the super soldiers become more and more hopeless. It isn’t until they get to the end of the hallway that they realize that they only have one door left, and with it, all their hope that the person inside is alive.

Steve and Bucky rip the door off its hinges, but before Steve can walk inside, Bucky puts a hand on his chest to stop him.

Inside the center of the room is a glowing boy, kneeling and chained to the floor. He can’t be more than 17 or 18. His hair is pure white and floats as if gravity has no hold on it. His eyes are clenched shut and he looks absolutely terrified. There’s a thick metal collar around his neck that hangs around his neck tightly. Chains hang from his wrists and ankles, leading to several metal loops in the floor, all tightly drawn so that he’s forced to kneel.

The kid has no shirt on and looks malnourished, his ribs practically poking through his skin. Wounds and bruises cover every inch of exposed skin, making it hard to tell if the slight green from his skin is natural or if all the injuries cause it. The poor boy is hunching over as much as he can with the chains attached.

Bucky takes a step forward into the room, but it’s Steve that calls out gently. “Phantom?”

A sharp intake of breath comes from the kid and he flinches. He opens his eyes and his gaze immediately locks on to Bucky. Panic and terror flood through his glowing emerald eyes as Phantom starts jerking viciously on his chains.

“Nononononono.” Phantom cries over and over again, desperately trying to get away from the person in front of him. “I’ll be good. I swear. I’ll do better this time. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Please don’t hurt me. I swear. I’ll be good. I’ll do it right. Whatever you want.”

Anguish twists Bucky’s expression as he listens to the teen’s frantic pleading. He’s frozen to the spot watching the tortured soul trying to break free of his prison. What did they do to this kid? he thinks. Fuck. What did I do to him?

Steve slowly walks past Bucky, towards the struggling boy. With all his strength, he crushes the collar and rips it off Phantom’s neck. It takes Phantom only a few seconds to realize he no longer has the steel wrapped around his neck, but when he does, it’s like his whole demeanor shifts.

There’s a cunning gleam in his eyes and with a deep breath, Phantom screams loud and clear. The sound is deafening, forcing both Bucky and Steve to cover their ears. Phantom stops and takes an even deeper breath and the scream becomes something more. 

It’s a banshee scream that sends Bucky and Steve flying back through the doorway they’d walked through. They’re sent flying all the way out of the room into the opposite side of the hallway with such force that they dent the wall. The longer the wail goes on, the more the walls start to shake, until the walls are shaking so much that debris rains down onto Bucky and Steve. They’ve just managed to get themselves up when a loud explosion suddenly erupts in front of him, knocking them back into the same wall with such force that they’re knocked unconscious. Their bodies slowly slide down to the floor, and the last thing they hear is someone screaming their names.

[ghostatrandom]

Dont ask me what the hell am I doing drawing my rewrite of fnafhs in this cursed year of 2024 just accept that I'm paying reparations to my inner child and that's it

Basically I changed a lot of the setup of the original series, now being based around the mid 80's era, with the group being into the paranormal and investigating haunted places around town, all of them labeling themselfs as "seekers of the occult"

Annabeth Chester (Chica) is the rumor seeker, being the main face of the club and getting all the info about the places they visit

Bonifacio Scolaidhe (Bonnie) is the knowledge seeker, he is the one that knows all about different kinds of spirits and the paranormal

Aiden Rover (Foxy) is not a seeker, he doesn’t really care about this stuff but he cares about Chica so he is the cameraman

Frederick Fitzgerald (Freddy) is the spirit seeker, having a connection to beings from the spiritual plane (and later getting Fred trapped inside his body)

They weren't allowed to make a paranormal club, so they decided to make a fake music club and just pretend to be practicing music just to keep doing their investigations.

If you wanna learn more about it you can send an ask so I can draw and ramble more about it please god I so wanna talk about it-

[potpourrifandoms]

Okay, so I saw some people talking about the new Imotekh reveal (very cool, very cool), and they were discussing the four-fingered gauntlet with its cool claws and stuff, and I could not stop thinking about how Aun'Shi also has four-fingered claws (I draw a lot of T'au okay) and I just think they should get manicures together.

I am so tired and so, so sorry

✨Besties✨

[thevoidstaredback]

I should be sleeping, but I'm not, so here's a thing based on a thing I just saw!

Pre ID reveal (I do a lot of these, but that's because the comedy is endless)

The JL and JLD especially, as well as all the protege teams treat the Bats with Fae or Vampire or Cryptid rules. The Batfam figured it out after the third time the others turned down the invite into Gotham, and they all started rolling with it. Nothing really comes of it, though, until someone does accept the invite to Gotham.

I'm thinking it's gotta be Clark, Diana, or Oliver. Clark could be there for an interview with Bruce Wayne (probably shortly after he buys The Daily Planet) and Tim Drake. Diana could be there for any number of reasons, but I think she's there for a new art exhibit that opened up in the Greek part of Gotham museum where she bumps into Damian Wayne and Dick Grayson. Oliver could be there on business, strictly speaking, but he hasn't talked to Bruce in person since just after their senior year of high school, so is it really a coincidence that he meets up with Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd (who was revealed to have been in witness protection for a time)?

Dealer's Choice on who's there. Could be one, could be all three. Could be someone else entirely! (Though, I can really only see Barry as having a good excuse of working with the GCPD on a case and meeting Dick that way if you really wanted to not use the other three)

Anyway. We're gonna use Clark here because he'd be extra cautious around magic, seeing as it's one of like...2 weaknesses he has.

Clark is sent to Gotham for an interview with the head of Wayne Enterprises. Ownership didn't change, but stuff got mixed up around last year, so he could either be meeting with Bruce Wayne or Time Drake-Wayne. Either way, Clark doesn't want to be here. Lois was supposed to be here, but she got sick, so he got stuck traveling across the harbour to the Crime Capitol of the Country.

He'd normally be ecstatic about potentially running into any of his JL coworkers in their natural habitat home cities, but Gotham was different. Batman, for all that he is Superman's best friend, doesn't let anyone into Gotham. There had been speculation for a while as to why that was, but no one had really been able to confirm it.

Kal-El didn't make it a habit, but he had, admittedly, tried to find out who Batman is under the cowl. He couldn't help it! He and Diana had told both each other and Batman who they were, but Bats had refused. He and Diana were understanding, of course, but that didn't stop the journalist side of him from slipping into the forefront of his mind.

At first, Kal thought he was sick. But he can't get sick. It's not like he could just ask B if his cowl was lined with lead or magic or kryptonite or something!

God, he hoped it was magic that was preventing Kal from seeing through Batman's cowl. It couldn't be kryptonite because Kal would've known it the second he got too close. Lead was the only thing he couldn't see through (that wasn't magic) but that brought up the issue of B's health how heavy the cowl was.

Magic, believe it or not, was the most logical explanation. Batman's cowl and cape are connected, so any magic on one would be on the other. With the way that Batman's cape seems to move on its own, somehow pull him deeper into shadows, and is able to hide at least four humans at any given moment, well, it's not a stretch to say magic was being used. Ignoring the fact that Batman hates magic.

That's a lie. He hates what he doesn't understand. And, try as he might, the man can't get a handle on magic.

Off topic.

Clark got off the train at exactly fifteen-hundred hours. Fourth-five minutes before he had to be at Wayne Tower (who named it that? surely not Mr. Wayne himself?) to meet whoever he was interviewing today.

Not knowing the layout of the city was what probably made Clark on obvious target. He should've memorized a map of the city before coming here.

He knows that there are three parties at work. Red Hood, who not even Batman pushes the boundaries of; Signal, who covers the entire city during the day; and Batman, Robin, Red Robin, Spoiler, Black Bat, and Oracle who cover the night shift. Sometimes, Nightwing joins them from Bludhaven, but that's only sometimes. It's safe to assume, though, that Red Hood and Nightwing are the two outliers. So long as Clark doesn't draw the attention of those two or Signal, he should be fine. A quick in and out and he'll be home free!

"Mister Kent?" the receptionist asks when he approaches her desk.

"Yes," he clears his throat, nervous for some reason he can't place, "That's me." What's wrong with him? It's just a routine interview! He's done hundreds like it before!

The receptionist smiles at him. "Misters Wayne are both waiting for you in Mister Wayne's office on the tenth floor."

He nods his thanks and goes to the elevator. Doesn't this building have like...thirty floors, though? Wouldn't the CEO's office be on the top floor?

Regardless, Clark uses the short elevator ride (complete with smooth jazz as the provided white noise) to calm himself down. He's met hundreds of big shots. Mister Wayne, whichever (or both?) he's meeting with today will be no different.

Maybe.

Probably.

Hopefully.

The elevator dings, the sound an odd harmony of several notes on the C Major scale instead of the single tone bell that is common through everywhere else. He gets off on the tenth floor and finds exactly four offices. He knocks on the door labeled 'Bruce Wayne'.

"Come in!" is called from inside, though the voice sounds too young to be Bruce.

Clark opens the door with an easy smile, taking in stride the fact that he is meeting with both Bruce and Tim Wayne. Oh, dear. "Good afternoon, Mister Wayne, Mister Drake-Wayne."

"Please," Mister Wayne has on the smile he always wears for the public. "Call me Bruce."

"And call me Tim," Tim shakes Clark's hand after he stands from his seat. The door clocks shut behind Clark.

Ah. Now he knows why he's so nervous. Batman usually only has bad things to say about Bruce Wayne. On the other hand, Tim Drake is a complete mystery to him.

Clark takes a seat on the couch opposite the two men when he's prompted. They go through pleasantries they all know are ingenuine before Clark opens up the notepad he brought with him. "Now, Mister Wayne, Mister Drake-Wayne, what made you decide to buy The Daily Planet?

Storyboard Part 2

[scrollwyrm]

Some more Fathigo for the soul <3

Love you guys!

[skatesfullofsunshine]

Thorin sought out Bilbo, at a loss for what to do after abdicating the throne.

At Bag End he finds a warm welcome, and the beginning of a new life he couldn't have imagined being a part of, until one day, he was.

[steddieunderdogfics]

I am older than I once was (and younger than I'll be) by Derek_the_Dalek

Rating: Teen and Up

14,646 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Not Canon Compliant - Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eddie Munson Lives, Steve Harrington-centric, POV Eddie Munson, 5+1 except its actually 15+0 because a girl cant count, Blood and Injury, Non-Graphic Violence, Injury, not very graphic but still, Steve Harrington Has Absent Parents, Steve Harrington is a People Person, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Slow Burn, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, HIV/AIDS mention, Simon and Garfunkel mention, oversharing with your trauma pal, maybe one day i'll be able to write a story with actual overarching plot, today is not that day

Summary:

"Eddie wished even harder that Harrington would stop looking at him while on the phone, rolling his eyes as if there was an inside joke only the two of them were in on. Eddie wished the most that he didn’t want to sidle right up into Harrington’s space and- Well." or 15 times Eddie Munson had to Deal With Something, and the surprising amount of time Something was Steve Harrington

This is a MOD rec as a part of our Fic Fridays.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[xappetites]

loving John MacTavish is a primarily sensory experience

sure, you don’t have to have him around to feel your chest blissfully full of him, ballooning with affection at the mere sight of his clothes in your closet. but what sticks the most in your mind is the way he feels, his rough hands on your skin, between your breasts, cupping your cheek

his voice when your name is the first thing on his lips waking up, his accent when he gets excited and the rumble low in his throat that precedes every kiss

you love the iron band of his arm around your waist, the prickle of his stubble on your neck, his laughter shaking his whole body and yours with it. even when he’s on the opposite corner of this fucked up, beautiful world, Johnny lives in your space in such a physical way that you don’t ever think to imagine a day when he won’t.

he’s Johnny, he’s here, always

so when there’s a gruff man on the other side of the line —and he sounds exhausted, like he’s run for miles, for years—, and he tells you that it’s about John, because he’s listed you as his next of kin, it chills your bones, sucks the air out of the room

this is the storm you were convinced you could weather, that you promised wouldn’t shake you, so you get in the car and you drive for hours to London because you can’t bear the thought of sitting on your ass on a train doing nothing

and you crash through the reception at the hospital in a daze, mumbling out the name of the man you love, launching into the familiar spiel of ‘m-a-c’ not ‘m-c’ before you get approached by an impressive beard and the man attached.

John —Price, this one—, is a balm. steady and sparse, he leads you with very little fanfare to the bed of a Johnny that’s half gauze, wrapped up like a mummy from those old films he likes. only one visible, bright blue eye that softens at your less than stellar appearance by the doorway

“don’t kill me, right darling? i’ve had enough of that for the week”

you stand there, quite silent, because it aches. as if he's carving open your chest to set your heart back where it belongs, where he last left it

"no, come on, sweet girl," Johnny pleads with you, reaching across what seems like the distance between life and death, so close, "don't cry, doctor says there wont be permanent damage to the eye, i'll be able to see your beautiful face just fine—"

he's right, you realize, you're crying. and then you're pretty much falling forward, moving into him until you bump into his open hands, kissing wherever you can reach so you can taste the salt of his skin, laughing and sobbing all the same when he chants your name in a voice that's worse for wear but still his, still alive

he's here, your Johnny, like always

[joemothersfavoritechild]

“across the street”

-1.5k words

-mike schmidt x fem!reader

-no trauma au

an: i’ve never written anything like this, so pls let me live lmao ik that it’s corny. this is more self indulgent than anything, but the mike schmidt hype has hit me hard 😭

summary: you move into a new place and meet your neighbors

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A sudden knocking pulled you out of your sleep, causing you to sit up on the couch. You looked at your surroundings for a moment, trying to remember where you were.

You had just moved into the house that you were leasing the night before, and still had so much to unpack. It was on the smaller side, a two bedroom one bathroom, but it was a steal for the price. Boxes were strewn around the room, and your eyes landed on one particularly large one. Your bed frame, which was still taped up. Leading you to fall asleep on the couch last night.

Another knock, smaller than the first, was heard. You hopped off the couch, suddenly remembering the cause of your early morning. You ran a hand through your hair, double-checking your outfit. Of course, someone had to knock as you were in pajamas; an old oversized t-shirt, and some black shorts.

“I’m coming, sorry!” You yelled, speed walking up to the front door.

Before you could look around you, you tripped on a box next to the couch. You fell, and landed directly on your ass, shouting out a loud curse.

“Fuck.” You muttered, rubbing your stubbed toe. At least your socks took the brunt of the pain.

“Are you okay?” A muffled voice asked.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Sorry, this is embarrassing.” You rambled, mostly to yourself.

You took in a deep breath, what a morning. You stood from the ground, now directly in front of the large wooden door. You tried your best to compose yourself before you were unlocking and swinging it open.

Standing in front of you was a little girl. She had bangs, a huge smile, and a big tupperware box in her small hands. Next to her was a young man, around your age. He was definitely attractive, in jeans and a grey sweatshirt. You looked at him for a little longer than socially acceptable before speaking.

“Hi.” You said with a small smile.

“Hi!” The little girl replied, her smile mimicking yours.

“Uh, this is my sister, Abby.” The cute guy said, gesturing towards his sister. You followed his movement with your eyes, landing on her again. You smiled at her before he continued.

“I’m Mike-“ He said before he was interrupted.

“We live across the street,” Abby said loudly. He glanced at her, nodding at her comment. You held back a laugh at his annoyed expression. They were siblings, alright.

“We made some cookies, thought we’d introduce ourselves.” He finished.

You made eye contact with him, finally, too overwhelmed to do it before. God, was it a mistake. How could you control yourself when he was so fine? He had brown hair, brown eyes, and a soft expression on his face. You were fucked.

You introduced yourself, Abby complimenting your name.

“Thank you so much for the cookies, I bet you did all the work.” You said, winking at Abby. She quickly nodded, and her brother bumped into her playfully with his hip. She giggled, handing the box over to you.

“Do you guys want to come in and try these with me? My house is a mess, but it’s whatever.” You asked, hoping that he would agree.

Abby looked over to Mike for his approval, she muttered a tiny “please”. He seemed to be contemplating before you continued.

“I have milk.”

“Okay.” He said. You opened the door further at his answer, leading them into your house. Mike closed the door behind you all.

You took them to your kitchen, which was thankfully the cleanest place in your house. You set the box on the island, opening up your fridge, and grabbing the half gallon of milk you had bought. You grabbed your only glasses and filled them up. You set one in front of each of them.

“You guys caught me on a good day, with the milk.” You joked, noticing Mike’s small chuckle.

Cookies were dispersed, and you groaned as you bit into it. You nodded in enjoyment, taking a small sip of milk.

“These are good.” You said to yourself.

Abby nodded enthusiastically, “I already had some before we came over.” She said.

You laughed at her comment and looked over to Mike, who was looking at Abby with the same exasperated look from earlier.

“You had to taste test them, I understand.” You said to her.

Abby looked at her brother, and then back towards you. He looked confused for a second but then spoke.

“Oh- um, what brought you to the neighborhood?” He asked, popping the rest of his cookie in his mouth. You wiped the crumbs off your hands before answering.

“I work at the hospital over here, so I decided to get a place to myself that was closer.” You said simply.

“Oh, that’s awesome. So you live by yourself?”

“Yep, just me.” You answered, wondering about him. “What about the two of you?”

“Just us.” He said simply, you nodded at his answer.

“Abby, how old are you?” You asked, trying to include her in the conversation more.

“I’m about to turn ten.” She replied.

“What about you?” Mike asked, bringing your attention back to him.

“I’m twenty-one.” You answered. His eyes lit up for a second.

“Twenty-two,” He said, pointing to himself. You smiled at his goofy gesture.

You were so screwed, you had a thing for dorks. Fuck it, you thought. Might as well try.

“Why don’t we exchange numbers? That way if you needed a favor, or a babysitter,” You said, looking at Abby’s smiling face. “And we could go out for lunch or something.”

He raised his eyebrows for a second but quickly recovered.

“Yeah, yeah,” He squeaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “That would be great.”

He quickly reached into the pocket of his hoodie and unlocked his phone. He swiped for a second before handing it to you, already on the contacts app. You smiled, putting in your number and name with a “<3” next to it. You returned it to him, noticing his eyes on you.

“Um, Abs. Can you give us a second?” He said, shooing her out of the kitchen.

“You can turn the tv on if you want, Abby. The remote’s on the couch.” You added, she nodded and sent her brother a thumbs up. You smiled at the silly action.

He seemed to need a second to compose himself, so you used his silence to grab the glasses and rinse them out in the sink. You heard the tv click on in the background. As you were placing the cups in the dishwasher, Mike cleared his throat. You turned back to him.

“Were you serious about the babysitting thing? If not, that’s fine. We can just get lunch or something-“ He rambled, you noticed the way he wasn’t rejecting you. You cut his sentence short.

“I was serious, about both.” You clarified, and he nodded at your response. He turned around for a second, looking at his sister. He looked at you again and walked closer to you. He lowered his voice before speaking again.

“This is embarrassing, okay? I really need someone to watch her, but I don’t know how much I could pay you. I haven’t been able to find someone that we can afford.”

“Mike, you don’t have to pay me. She’s a good kid. And I live across the street, it’s easy. Just text me when you need, and I can change my schedule.” You said, feeling helpful.

“You would literally be saving my life.” He expressed, rubbing his eyes with his hands.

“Of course,” You said, looking past him and into your cluttered house. “Could you maybe do me a favor instead of paying me?”

He looked at you through his hands.

“Would you help me build my bed frame? I had movers bring in the big stuff, and I could’ve paid them to build it, but they were already so expensive and-“

“Yeah.” He breathed out.

“Yeah?” You asked, not sure what to say.

He nodded, looking at you like he was trying to see through you. Then he looked down at his phone and smiled. When he looked up again he had a light pink on his cheeks.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing. Uh, we’ve gotta go. I need to get Abby to school, but it was great meeting you. I’ll text you. About babysitting and lunch, okay?”

“Okay.”

He nodded again, a small smile on his face. He rounded Abby up and you walked them out. You stood against the doorframe, while the two of them stood in front of you.

“I’ll text.” He repeated.

“I’ll wait.”

The two of you smiled at each other for a second, neither wanting to walk away. You liked this weird banter the two of you had.

“Do you think he’s cute? ” Abby asked, voice monotone.

Your eyes widened, and you started laughing. This was going to be fun, you thought.

————————————————————————————

**I do not give anyone permission to use my work as your own, respectfully

this belongs to @joemothersfavoritechild **