#completed fic ideas

[ctrsara]

Source Materials

Peter shows up for his internship juggling way too much (literally) and stressed out. Tony has some good advice, some good instincts, and a good scare. This one is mostly just fluff, guys. Relationship-building and pseudo father-son-ing all over the place.

This story uses Irondad fic idea #50 from @idk-bruh-20, and Irondad Prompt #158 and #161 from @irondadmadlads ! Whenever I have some serious writer's block, those two are definitely go-to sources to jumpstart my story mode, and I appreciate them!

[idk-bruh-20]

<3333 !!!!!!!!

Some fics that I found by accident that seem sorta like fic idea #47!!!

Copycat

by OllieCollie

and

What's in a Name?

by niniblack

[stars-obsession-pit]

Following an accident, Danny wakes up in Gotham City in a DC universe. Lacking any forms of ID or possessions beyond the clothes on his back, he’s forced to commit some crimes to survive. Minor crimes, but still.

And then he gets caught.

During the court proceedings, they come to the mistaken conclusion that he’s a Meta suffering from some psychiatric issues such as Cotard’s Syndrome (a real rare condition where a person holds the delusional belief that they’re dead/don’t exist/etc).

Thus, between his “need for mental treatment” and the concerns about housing someone with his unique physical traits, he is sentenced to spend time in Arkham Asylum. He’s under pretty low security aside from the anti-Meta stuff and has more freedoms than some other inmates, but it’s still not a great experience. Even at the best of times, Arkham is hardly a nice place.

Some of his fellow residents are decently chill all things considered, but lots very much aren’t.

[rikan-oo]

I had trouble finding the right words to describe what exactly I like in SY and SJ until now

So, my favorite Shen dynamics:

Alternatively:

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

------

+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

------

Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

[dapper-lil-arts]

I'm not the kind of person that's like "Here let me fix the canon" usually but like holy crap gen 5 implied a lot of messed up shit about our hero Twilight Sparkle lmao

[takingasterix]

Queen Guinevere's guard dog (AKA the Court Sorcerer of Camelot)

quick little thing because i got bored and LOVE this concept

[batty-pham]

Danny working in retail.

Dead end job.

He always ends up at the nightshift.

Everyone thinks the bags under his eyes are because he can't sleep.

He gets told all the time that he "looks like death" and he always just replies "thanks"

He just sorta stands in the dark corner and customers don't notice him, but they sorta inherently know he's there and avoid him, but he moves and they about shit their pants.

[justaz]

merlin told arthur his favorite color was the color of the sky during sunset when it shifted into a deep violet. arthur gets a tunic made in that exact shade. its the best thing merlin owns. arthur was hoping that would mean he’d wear it almost everyday but merlin almost never wears it. the only time he does wear it is when royals come to visit (which isn’t all that often). arthur “subtly” asks about it and merlin is like “it’s the best thing i own. i’m not gonna dirty it mucking out the stables or serving rowdy knights wine while they splatter food on it” and arthur is like “why not wear it when nobles come to visit? look at least a little presentable for them” (cough nice save). merlin doesn’t see the point in it bc nobles don’t care about him at best, view him as less than human at worst.

arthur really just wants to see his boyfriend servant in the tunic he had made for him (bonus points for sending a message that merlin is his. not that merlin seems to notice. man is too much of an idiot). merlin wants to preserve his favorite tunic and gift from his boyfriend king.

[zishu-arts]

why is AVAM community is talking about farmer!victim??

[otaku553]

I have an agenda.

Long hair teenage sabo.

[ctrsara]

Heroes on Heroes

click ^ to read on AO3

I hadn't done an @idk-bruh-20 prompt in a while, so I went way back to the early ones and picked one that was completely different than anything I've done.

So this is for them, for all the wonderful prompts they've collected that I've gotten to use!

Heroes on Heroes has been asking for an Iron Man/Spider-Man interview for some time, and Pepper finally granted it.

Also fill the Irondad-Bingo-2023 BLACK card: Lights, Camera, Action.

[As the lights come up, we see three men seated with their chairs in a triangle formation. They are all wearing business casual, but only one of them seems comfortable. Tony Stark, Iron Man, is on the right, looking a little resigned, a professional half-smile on his face. He looks completely relaxed in his gray suit, button up, and tie, and his posture is casual. Across from him, looking excited but anxious, is Peter Parker. His identity as Spiderman is relatively new information, and he hasn’t done many interviews since that knowledge became public.  He’s wearing dark slacks with a sport coat over a white button-up, which is open at the top. He looks older than his actual age, but not nearly as comfortable as the older superhero. In between the two well-known public figures is Scott Lang, who is helpfully wearing an Ant-man tie with his suit, which seems to be itching uncomfortably. He has a big smile pasted on his face, and is holding a stack of white cards.]

Scott Lang: Welcome, everyone! I know, this is unusual for this show to have three superheroes up here instead of two, but this is an unusual pair. Unfortunately I won’t be answering any questions of my own today, just leading the discussion.

[Stark raises an eyebrow at Lang, and exchanges a glance with Parker, both of their mouths quirking slightly at some inside joke.]

Lang: You might be wondering why this interview is happening in a more traditional format than the two heroes asking each other questions. An Iron Man/Spiderman interview has been the leading request for months now, ever since the Batman/Superman interview finally happened. While that one was basically just a bunch of cryptic exchanges, the problem with this set of heroes was a little closer to home. Isn’t that right, Tony?

Tony Stark [looking bored, but not actually annoyed]: Get on with it Lang. We’ve got reservations.

Peter Parker: Where are we eating, Mr. Stark?

Stark: We'll talking about it later. Let’s knock this out first.

Lang: So… yeah. Usually these interviews are the heroes asking each other a bunch of questions to get to know each other better, which has been a really fun format. I mean, who can forget the Black Widow/Green Lantern interview? Or the Ant-man/Nightwing one? [He pauses to smile widely at the camera]

Stark: Lang.

Lang: Oh, sorry. But the reason this took so long to schedule was because these two particular heroes are already pretty familiar with each other. Wouldn’t you say that’s right, Peter?

Parker: Well, considering Mr. Stark’s been mentoring me in his lab and as a superhero for like three years now, yeah. I’d say we know each other pretty well.

Lang: That’s fantastic! Just, wow. But our viewers still have questions, so I’m here to ask those, even if you don’t have any for each other.

[He pauses, smiling in turn at each superhero. Parker is perched on the edge of his chair, looking ready for a question. Stark is propping his cheek up with an elbow on his chair, and uses his other hand the gesture Lang to continue.]

Lang: Tony, I think we have a good idea of why you created Iron Man, but what was it that has kept you at it all these years? I mean, it’s got to wear on you.

Stark: Are you calling me old?

Lang [looking nervous all of a sudden]: Uh, no, of course not, I just--

Stark: Relax, Lang. I am old. And probably the only reason I’m still suiting up regularly is because of this guy over here. [He nods towards the younger superhero.] Someone has to keep an eye on him, or he’ll either accidentally take over the world, or die trying to save a cat or something.

Parker [rolling his eyes]: Oh, c’mon, Mr. Stark. You know neither of those are true. And you do it because you like the thrill. You enjoy the missions.

Stark: Keep tellin’ yourself that, kid.

Lang: Okay. Uh, let’s move on. Peter, how do you feel it has shaped you as a superhero to have Mr. Stark to look up to and get advice from?

Parker: Oh, you know. Pretty much anything he did, I just made sure to do the opposite, and things have turned out pretty good for me so far.

Stark [sitting up a little and shooting a glare, or possibly a smirk, at the younger hero] : Why you little--

Lang: Let’s make sure we’re using viewer-friendly language, Mr. Stark! [he laughs nervously] Um, for the next question, Peter, what would you say has been one of the biggest perks of having your powers?

Parker: Um, I like being able to help people. Having been the one needing help a lot of my life until I got my abilities, I really love being able to step in and make things better for the little guy. 

Lang: And what would you say is one of the harder parts of your job? 

Parker [fidgeting] : Um, the opposite. When I can’t help people, I guess. When I can’t save them. [The younger hero looks pretty affected, and Lang clears his throat, switching his focus to Stark, who is unsubtly glaring at him.]

Lang [voice cracking a little]: Um, Tony? The viewers want to know what your workout routine looks like.

Stark: Really? That’s what they’re asking? Uh, for cardio I box, usually, or we spar. If I don’t stay on top of my game there, Nat really enjoys wiping the floor with me. Weights twice a week when we’re not on missions.

Lang: Nat. That’s the Black Widow for viewers who may be unaware. [He straightens up and puffs his chest out just a little.] Peter, what about you? What’s your workout routine?

Stark: Don’t ask him. He doesn’t even have to work out to stay in shape. I swear, hanging out with the super soldiers and this kid is giving me a complex.

Parker [sputtering] : I work out!

Stark: Doing what, kid? Bench-pressing city buses?

Parker: I swing, like a lot. It’s hard work!

Stark: Yeah, it sounds like it, with all the whooping you do during it.

Parker: I do not “whoop.”

Stark: Sure you don’t.

Lang: Uh, if I may… Along with that, do you find that eating a certain way helps you stay in shape so you’re ready for all these world-ending disasters?

Stark [looking bored again]: Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think? And just normal stuff. I like a good steak, but I try to eat vegetarian a lot, and get as many good foods in as I can. Of course it makes a difference.

Parker: Smoothies. You drink smoothies. That’s about it, as far as health food, Mr. Stark.

Stark: We’ve talked about this. I can fit more nutrition in one smoothie than you usually do in a week of fast food and pizza, so you don’t get to judge how I--

Parker: It’s not my fault I need so many calories! Do you know how many of your disgusting smoothies I’d have to drink in a day to get what I need, it would--

Stark: Would it kill you to drink one ? I just want to see a few vegetables on your plate every once in a while. Just because you have a super metabolism doesn’t mean you should--

Lang [looking flustered, interrupting]: Heeeey! Um, let’s maybe move on to the next question. Peter, the viewers are curious if your powers might be inheritable. Have you done any research on that, and come up with any hypotheses? [He squints at the paper.] Is that right? Hypothesises? Hypothesae?

Parker [obviously nonplussed]: Um…

Stark: Pretty personal there, Lang, especially since he’s technically still a minor. Let’s skip that one.

Lang: Oh. What about you, then? [He stares expectantly at Stark]

Stark [staring blankly at Lang]: Are you asking if my Iron Man abilities are inheritable?

Lang: Oh. I guess that doesn’t… doesn’t make too much sense.

Stark: No, not really. But if you mean my ability to create the kind of tech I do, then I guess so. 

[Lang beams at his answer, though he still looks confused, then tilts his head, looking back and forth between the two superheroes.]

Lang: You guys aren’t uh, like related or anything, right? Because you do kinda look alike, and I know you’ve said Peter here can keep up with you in your lab, right? I swear that was one of the questions… [He starts rifling through his papers, while Stark looks quizzically at him.]

Stark: Unfortunately, no. You think I’d keep that a secret? 

[Parker just shakes his head and smiles slightly at Stark while Lang looks at the next card.]

Lang: Peter, you aren’t officially an Avenger just yet, right?

Parker [sighing] : My aunt won’t let me. She said we’d talk about it after I graduate. [He looks unimpressed, but Stark looks satisfied, somehow.]

Lang: Are there any other new members, perhaps, waiting in the wings? That’s not a question from me, because obviously I’d be in the know, but from the public.

Parker: Well, I guess there’s--

Stark: Buh-buh-buh-buh! Stop talking, junior. Spoilers! [Then, to Lang:] If you’re in the know as much as you say you are, you know you should have thrown that question out yourself. Next!

[Lang shuffles through the cards, looking nervously for a safer question.]

Lang : Peter, what made you decide it was best to keep your identity a secret for so long, when none of the other big superheroes have secret identities?

[Stark gives Parker a look, raising his eyebrows, but Parker shakes his head, and prepares to answer.]

Parker: Well, I wasn’t a big superhero, you know? I was just a little guy, doing little things, and I wasn’t an adult, obviously, and… I just wanted to try to live my life normally, you know? And I didn’t want any bad guys I made mad coming after my family or friends. I didn’t have a good way to protect them at the time, unless I was with them.

Lang: That makes sense. [He seems to realize something.] Hey, how did that work with all the minor versus adult stuff? [He looks at Stark] Whoooooaaaa, did you know he was a minor when you recruited him for that Germany stuff? Because--

Stark: Seriously, Lang. They’re going to have to edit this out. Watch your mouth, Ant-guy. And yes, I did know Peter was a minor. It’s all kind of complicated, and it’s all been worked out, but Germany is not a public topic, according to like seventeen government agencies. [He raised his eyes and voice to the side.] Make sure that gets taken out.

Lang [looking flustered and sheepish] : Uh, I … just a minute, I don’t know what--

Stark: Hey. You’ve got this. You’re doing fine. Before you ask a question, though, give it a moment’s thought, okay? And don’t stray from the cards again, yeah? The legal department’s at least vetted those.

Lang: Right. Okay. [He takes a deep breath and picks another card.] So, Tony, is it easier to work with Spider-Man, when it’s obvious that he lacks in experience, and you probably worry about him a little bit, or easier to work with more experienced heroes who you’re maybe not as familiar with?

[Parker looks a little put out at this question, but Stark shoots him a quelling look and he sits back and takes a deep breath.]

Stark: I’d choose to work with Pete any day of the week. Not only can we anticipate what the other is going to do, but he’s crazy-overpowered and ridiculously talented. Great instincts, most of the time, and he’s fantastic at coming up with off-the-cuff plans that usually work.

Parker [obviously flustered at the praise] : Uh, yeah. I’d rather work with him too.

Lang [glancing back and forth between the two] : Uh… yeah. Okay, then. Next question. Um… What do you like to do when you’re not superhero-ing? [He looks at Parker expectantly.]

Parker: Is that for me? Uh… with Tony, or by myself?

Lang: Either?

Parker: Well, I guess I like hanging out with my friends. I do Acadec, uh, I mean Academic Decathlon, and we still like to build Legos and have movie nights and normal friend stuff. But otherwise, I’d say most of my free time is spent in the lab with Tony.

[Lang looks surprised, but then remembrance floods his face.]

Lang: Oh, that’s right. You actually intern with him, too, don’t you? Hey, how many times have you guys blown stuff up? [This is directed at Parker, but Stark answers.]

Stark [smirking]: Accidentally, or on purpose? 

Parker [whining]: Tony. [Then to Lang:] I plead the fifth.

Stark [rolling his eyes] : That doesn’t work in interviews, Pete. Just in court.

[Parker sighs and folds his arms over his chest, obviously still choosing not to answer.]

Lang: We only have time for one more question. [He looks down at his papers.]

Lang: Peter, you first. If you could go back, and somehow avoid the circumstances that gave you your powers, and just live an ordinary life, would you do it?

Parker: Well, some days, I think I would have said yes. Sometimes it’s really hard, and I just want to be normal. And I’ve seen a lot of things I’d rather not see. Sometimes it’s been a little too much, and I have wished I could be a normal teenager. [He exchanges a glance with Stark, who looks a little sad, and raises his eyebrows minutely at the boy. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to anyone else around them.]  

Parker [glances back at Lang]: But then I think about all the people I have been able to help, and I’m glad. And I think about the people I’ve met and been able to work through while doing all this superhero stuff. [He looks at Stark and smiles.] And I wouldn’t give that up for any kind of normal life.

Lang [smiles at Parker, then looks at Stark]: What about you?

Stark [He has a slight smile on his face after Parker’s answer] : Me? I’m not enhanced. 

Lang: I mean, if you could go back and decide to become Iron Man again, or not, considering all you’ve gone through, would you still do it? 

Stark [face turned to Lang, but eyes fixed on Parker, whose head is tilted curiously.]: Absolutely. No question. For all the same reasons. 

[The two superheroes ignore Lang, appearing to have a conversation with their faces instead.]

Lang: So, ugh, thanks for coming I guess, Iron Man, and Spider-Man. It’s been great having you on Heroes On Heroes. 

Stark: We’re good then? [He claps his hands on his thighs and stands up quickly.] C’mon kid, we don’t want to be late.

Parker [has taken off his mic, but is still close enough for it to pick up]: Where are we going? I’m starving! 

Stark [is in the midst of leaving, so his voice is quiet] : Le Grenouille. Pep’s meeting us there.

Parker: French food? No, seriously? I wanted pizza!

Stark: And I’ve told you, you really need to expand your palette, because… [sound fades away as they leave the room.]

Lang: We’re done, right? Can I take this mic off now? I mean, if there’s another interview you want me to do, I’m totally up for it. Or maybe tomorrow?

Camera person: We’re done. You can just leave it there on the chair.

Lang: Oh, okay. I’ll just do that. Whoops! I dropped it. Is that okay? I think it’s fine. I’ll just put it right here.

[Scene cuts to black.]

[idk-bruh-20]

Completed fic (sort of!!)

@deehellcat did a reverse version of fic idea #134!!!

Read it right here !!! ->

Labyrinth

by dixiehellcat

[gbirrd]

6/9 - Jason Todd tarot card designs for Complete Candor by @vexfulfolly as part of the @batfam-big-bang

Read the fic here!

Other cards:

1-Babs 2-Cass 3-Bruce 4-Tim 5-Damian 6-Jason 7-Duke 8-Steph 9-Dick

Image IDs

Image 1:

A design of "The Devil" tarot card. It has the texture of recycled paper and reads "THE DEVIL". A symbol of a gravestone is visible behind the numeral "XV".

A young Jason Todd in his Robin uniform tugs at a thick chain around his neck that comes down from the top of the frame. Matching shackles are around his wrists and he is buried up to his waist in dirt. His head is tilted up towards the chain. There is blood on his hands, arms, chest, and dripping down the right side of his face as well as from his nose.

Image 2:

A design of "The Devil" tarot card. It has the texture of recycled paper and reads "THE DEVIL" upside-down. A symbol of a flame is visible behind the numeral "XV".

Jason Todd faces forward, filling most of the frame. He is in his Red Hood uniform and has narrowed pupil-less white eyes. He is holding the end of a thick chain in his right fist. Flames fill the background and bathe him in an orange light. The entire card is upside-down.

[s0fter-sin]

retired ghoap going on a renovation competition show

ghost takes over the budget and he's ruthless with it; tracking every paint swatch and piece of lumber down to the last cent, haggling for every purchase and making the most of their coupons. soap's in charge of design; he can visualise floor plans better than anyone, seeing the completed spaces in his mind when they’re little more than a steel shell

they run their site like a military base, treating their builders like rookies; expecting them to follow orders but also waiting for them to inevitably mess up so they can fix it

they're an immediate shock to the judges; they fully expected them to have no idea what they're doing, to have no understanding of style or trends, but they didn't sign up just for shits and giggles

they know how to hit a brief and can do physical labour faster than the actual builders. with soap's discerning eye and ghost's practically, they design gorgeous rooms and become a real threat for the prize money. they handle the stress and sleepless nights like it's second nature bc really, it is; a few all nighters painting are nothing compared to being shot at

they also take great joy in messing with the other couples

it takes a while for them to figure out they're even married; they argue like it's going out of fashion, never holding their opinions or frustrations back but it's their love language as much as their banter. you can hear them barking at each other from across the site; callsigns and “It” and “sergeant” thrown around just like in the field

the challenges are where they have the most fun

the day to day? that's work; they're strict, both with themselves and the schedule, never letting anything fall behind or go incompleted. but the challenges? that's play time. they love pushing the brief, toeing the line of the rules purely bc they can

they get to a two part art challenge and ghost's scheming before before the host even opens their mouth. part one? one half of the couple has to design some kind of art piece that will feature in their house. part two? the other person has to gather supplies and tools and make the art

there's a time limit for how long they can take to gather the supplies; once it's up, they can't go back for more and they can only use what they can carry themselves to their station. they're in a warehouse filled with scrap and paint and tools, the choices almost overwhelming

ghost politely interrupts the host to ask for a clarification; absolutely anything in the warehouse can be used so long as they can carry it?

the host confirms; anything under the roof is their's to use

ghost thanks them and steps back in line, standing at attention and waiting for round one to start

ghost volunteers to be the one to do the art, shocking everyone since soap is well known as the artist of the two of them. but soap sees the mischief in his eyes; he knows he's up to something and can't wait to see where it goes

the timer starts and ghost immediately shucks his hoodie and gets to grabbing; stuffing the impromptu bag with everything he recognises from soap's own supplies. there's seconds to go when he bolts for soap, throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry

the other couples are pissed and call it cheating, trying to get them disqualified

ghost just shrugs, soap still over his shoulder, "they said we can use anything we can carry. i followed the brief"

soap just laughs like a mad man

they win the challenge by a landslide

everything's going smoothly, they've won enough room reveals that they’re in a good financial position, they’re ahead in their current room and in a great headspace

then soap gets injured

it's an honest mistake, a part of the roof they thought was stable collapsing and hitting soap

and ghost, always calm and in control, panics

he's on the other side of the site when he hears soap cry out and goes running; shoving past cameramen and builders, screaming to know what happened before he even sees him. he finds soap on the ground, blood dripping from his temple and it's too familiar; a thing he sees in his nightmares

he doesn't know what to do with all his fear so instead, he channels it into anger

he goes off on all his builders, demanding to know how they could be so useless and careless as to miss the unstable roof; screaming at them in a way he hasn't done since he was on active duty, tearing down a rookie for poor trigger management

all the while, his gentle hands tend to soap; checking the wound, if he's concussed, soothing him before he can slip into a flashback of his own. he growls at the cameras, doesn't let the onsite medics anywhere near him; he doesn't know them, doesn't trust them with his johnny. it's only soap's gentle convincing that makes him step back, that forces him to stop and breathe; glaring the medics down from soap's side as they check him and come to the same conclusion soap already reached

he'll be iust fine; a few stitches and he'll be right back in it

ghost goes with him to the hospital to get the stitches laid, abandoning the site to their terrified builders to look after. it takes a few days before he can handle them being separated again, can't even handle one of them going shopping while the other site manages

but soap doesn't begrudge him for his clinginess, not when he knows it's rooted in the fear of losing him. he just keeps him close and calls him his good luck charm when they win the room reveal that week

[keitorinrose]

I have spent weeks on this drawing but sadly can't find the motivation anymore 😭

So for now it will be an unfinished wip

This was supposed to be fanart for the fanfic "the long road to true happiness" by @weirdrandomtina on ao3