Posted 1 day ago
Hulkeye. Bruce tells a joke that is not funny at all, but Clint laughs anyway, because he sees the cientist is trying to be more open to him. Bonus love if it's a scientific joke only Tony would understand and if Bruce calls Clint 'silly' and kiss him softly in the end :3 <3
Anonymous asked

((Okay, so people besides Tony will get this.  :/  Sorry about that.))


It had been years since he’d spoken to anyone like this.  Even longer since he’d let himself fall in love.  And as a result, Bruce was more than slightly nervous that he was going to ruin everything.  He would ruin it if he stayed quiet, he would ruin it if he didn’t open up…

Come on, Bruce.  He’s into you.  You know he is.  And it was true.  Clint wasn’t shy with his affection, not in the slightest.  He was prouder than a peacock when Bruce was on his arm.  But that didn’t stop Bruce from worrying.  What do people like in relationships?  What do I like about Clint?  Well, his sense of humor, for one thing…

Maybe that would work.  Everyone liked jokes.

"Hey, Clint?"

Clint looked up from Bruce’s experiment and smiled widely.  ”Yeah, babe?”  Between the smile and the title, Bruce actually felt a bit soft and melty.  How did he do that?

"Want to hear a joke?"

"Sure."

Bruce smiled, turning his attention to the instruments in front of him as he said, “So, Einstein, Newton, and Pascal are playing hide-and-seek, and Einstein is ‘it’.  So he starts counting, ‘One, two, three…’  Pascal runs off to hide, but Newton takes out some chalk and draws a mid-sized square.”  Bruce paused then to devote some extra attention to his project, while Clint continued to look at him curiously.

"So Newton drew a square," he prompted.

"Yeah, a square.  And he steps inside of it just as Einstein finishes counting.  Of course, Einstein turns around and sees Newton, so he points and goes, ‘I found you, Newton!’  And Newton shakes his head and replies, ‘No, you found one Newton per square meter.  You found Pascal!’"  Bruce giggled at the joke, as if this was still quite funny to him despite him having known it for a while.

Clint looked at him blankly for a second, then sat back and laughed, his voice catching to a sort of giggle that Bruce always found endearing.  When Clint’s laughter went on just a moment too long, though, Bruce rolled his eyes good-naturedly and asked, “Did you get that joke?”

Clint looked up, eyes still gleaming with happiness.  Not amusement, maybe, but happiness, which was just as good.  ”Nope.”

Bruce laughed and set down his work.  ”Then why did you laugh?”

"Because you never tell jokes.  And it’s good to see you being a little more open."

Bruce shook his head with a grin, scooting over and nuzzling against Clint’s nose.  ”You’re silly, you know that?” he hummed.  Before Clint could respond, Bruce pressed their lips together, cupping one hand around the back of Clint’s head and gently weaving his fingers through his hair.

Clint didn’t seem to mind.  And for the first time in a long time, Bruce felt a glowing sense of certainty that he probably never would.


((Wanna prompt me? 
Click here to find out how!))

Posted 1 day ago
i miss when this blog was super active and you filled more marvel prompts ; _;
Anonymous asked

I’m really sorry!  Life and health haven’t been that great to me for a long-ass time, and it’s very draining.  I really do try, but I end up staring at the screen with absolutely nothing coming to me.  ):

As for the Marvel fills, I do them in order, and this latest batch has been a lot of different fandoms.  Rest assured, most of what is in my inbox is Marvel, so when I’m inspired, you’ll be seeing lots more of the world’s most efficient superheroes <3

Posted 6 days ago

((Based on this post!))


Smoke curled from Thomas Hake’s mouth as he eyed Chicago’s two most talented killers - to hear them tell it, anyway.  He’d heard rumors of their prowess, but part of the problem was that that was all they left behind.  Rumors.

Still, they were promising enough that Thomas figured it was worth talking to them.  He neatened a stack of files against his desk as they watched him with calm predator’s eyes.  They didn’t frighten him.  Thomas hadn’t earned his nickname by playing nice; he’d poisoned a rival using mistletoe and, after destroying the rest of his network with minimal force, had been titled ‘Loki’ by those smart enough to fear him.

Finally, by way of greeting, he hummed, “So.  Romanoff and Barnes, Hell’s favorite duo.”

"Don’t be ridiculous," Natasha Romanoff said curtly, holding out one hand for the files.  No time or love wasted here, it seemed.  "Hell would be smart to keep us at a distance."  Her partner in crime, James Barnes, said nothing.

"I’ll believe that when I see the results," Thomas responded, handing over the file.  "And since you seem eager to get out and get started, I’ll tell you exactly what I need - in that file are the pictures of six annoying little thorns in my side.  I would like them taken care of through any means you deem necessary.  Blackmail, convenient disappearances, whatever makes your lives simple.  My only condition is that you not kill Christopher Hake.  He may be a headache, but he’s family."

Natasha nodded to indicate she understood while James continued to stare at Thomas with a sunken, unblinking pair of tired gunmetal gray eyes.  Thomas tilted his head slightly, leaning back and taking a long drag on his cigarette.

"Don’t keep looking him in the eyes," Natasha ordered without looking up from the file.  She set down the first picture, and James lifted it to examine the man on it.  "He doesn’t appreciate it.  Tony Stark, speakeasy owner, unmarried, suspected involvement with male co-worker."

"He doesn’t seem to have a problem staring into mine," Thomas responded.

"I’m making sure you don’t pull a gun," James rumbled finally, setting down the picture and holding out his hand for the next one.

"James has exceptional reflexes.  I suppose a bad stay in the war will do that to a man, though."  Natasha sighed sympathetically, as if she’d been there herself, then handed over the second picture.  "Bruce Banner, once a respected doctor, now the big brain behind Stark’s distillery.  Apparently also has a terrible temper and a thing for fire."  And the next picture.  "Clint Barton.  Muscle for Stark, along with Samuel Wilson.  This is his picture here."  She held it out, not seeming perturbed in the slightest that Sam was a well-groomed, clearly moneyed man of color.  It was extremely difficult to achieve in Chicago, and Thomas half-hoped they left him alive just because he respected the tenacity it must have taken for Sam to get where he was today.  "Wilson doesn’t seem to have much investment in Stark, and is mostly there for a friend, Rogers."

James twitched slightly.  ”Rogers?”

"Yes.  Steven Rogers.  Close friends with Stark, otherwise unemployed.  Experienced a huge change in health and muscle mass when - "

James snatched the file and looked at the picture - actually, pictures - lying on top.  There were two side-by-side, one of a stringy, unhealthy blond man whose smile looked like it was tiring him out, and the other of someone who looked like the same person if they were healthy and strong enough to bleed water from a stone.

"Is there a problem, Mister Barnes?"

Sergeant Barnes,” James corrected with icy finality.  ”Get a different pair.  I won’t take the job.”

Natasha looked shocked.  She turned to him with something halfway between anger and amazement.  ”What do you mean, you won’t take the job?  This guy is - “

"Absolutely not.  You can do it on your own if you want to."

Thomas stood with unconcealed menace, fingers tightening on the edge of his desk.  There was no doubt, in that moment, that Thomas was every bit as dangerous as his reputation would suggest.  ”Now see here.  I pulled a lot of strings to get you two in here, and I will not be turned down just because you don’t think you’re up to the task.  I can’t afford to attack them myself; I’m - “

"Fuck you."  James threw the file down on the desk, shaking his head and marching straight for the door.  He muttered under his breath, barely intelligible as he growled about ‘thought he’d be dead’ and ‘nearly forgotten him in Germany’.

Natasha stared after him, mouth slightly open.  ”Whoa.  That’s new.”

"Damn it all to hell!" Thomas snapped, throwing himself back down in his chair and crushing the cherry of his cigarette into a smooth jade tray.  He lifted the tray for a moment, as if to throw it, but Natasha held out a consoling hand and cut him off.

"Now now, Mister Hake.  I’ll still take the job."

He eyed her darkly.  ”Are you any good without him?”

She mirrored his anger tenfold, crossing her arms over her chest.  ”I was good before him, I was good with him, and you’d better fucking believe I’ll still be good now that he’s gone.”  She gestured to the smoldering stub of his cigarette.  ”You got another one of those?”

Thomas assessed her carefully before nodding, reaching into the thin metal case in his breast pocket and emerging with another cigarette.  He placed it between her lips, watching as the red of her lipstick smeared over the paper, and lit it as she leaned over.  Natasha pulled hard on it, the smoke rising pale gray from her nostrils before she collected the pictures back up and tucked them away in the file.

"Can I bring this with me?  I need to study it before I burn it."

"Study it here.  I won’t have news of this getting around."

She glared at him, insulted that he’d question her secrecy, but shrugged and looked towards the large, plush chairs by his fireplace.  ”You mind if I sit, then?  I’d prefer to be comfy if I’m going to be memorizing things.”

"Be my guest.  Shall I have one of my men bring you something to drink?"

"Whiskey, please.  In coffee."  She sighed and kicked back on the chair, slinging her legs over the arm as if to silently protest her need to stay there.  "Mostly coffee.  It’s going to be a long night."


((Wanna prompt me? Click here to find out how!))

Posted 1 week ago
Delta/Sinclair (not sex but the suggestion of emotions); Sinclair ends up in hot water somehow and Delta saves him. Bonus points if there are any confused splicers at a Big Daddy saving someone who isn't a Little Sister.
Anonymous asked

"The fuckin’ hell is that?

"Well, it looks like one of those giant divey-suit bastards."

"They’re called Big Daddies, you fucking knob.  And anyway, that’s not what I was getting at."

Splicers.  Delta ignored them.  They weren’t attacking at the moment, so unless they decided to change that, he had very little interest in going out of his way to crush them.  Besides, he was still throbbing with pain from the Brute that now lay dead at his feet, and healing up at his earliest convenience seemed like a good idea.

After he made sure Sinclair was alive.

Delta’s first impulse was to give him a nudge with one boot-clad foot, but Sinclair answered the question fast enough when he sat up, clutching his broken arm and whining with pain.  He looked around, grimacing at the over-muscled, blood-soaked corpse beside him.  ”Well.  I’m guessing it was him beat me bloody, and not you,” he gritted out.  ”At least, I’m hoping so.”

Delta let out one of the eerie, moaning rumbles that Big Daddies used to indicate concern.

Sinclair instinctively looked around for the Little Sister, shaking his head - and quickly regretting doing so - when he didn’t see one.  ”I think your brain’s been scrambled up in your helmet there.  What’s got you all flustered?  Can’t see any Little - ”  Delta rumbled again, fumbling through his belongings before holding out a first-aid kit.  It looked tiny in his massive, leather-gloved hand, and even with the blatant indication, it took Sinclair a moment to realize what Delta was getting at.  Once he did, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open slightly.  ”Heaven above.”

Sinclair did not reach for it, which was just as well - the injections from the stations were much more effective when dealing with broken bones.  Delta put the kit away with a creaking noise, then gently lifted Sinclair into his arms.  The windows in his helmet pulsed a soft yellow as he thudded his way over to a health station.  He walked right by the splicers as they continued talking.

"Well, I’ll be buggered!"

"You probably would, too.  What’s his game, d’you think?"

"Saving Sinclair?  Hell if I know.  Maybe he’s blind."

"They can’t see, you horse’s ass.  They smell things, like dogs."

Delta rumbled irritably, but otherwise ignored them.  Sinclair was watching them with a wary eye, but these two seemed sane enough to keep their distance.  Even wounded, Delta was a ruthless powerhouse, and not to be trifled with.

Once at their destination, Delta clumsily pressed Sinclair’s wrist against the injection site and fed crumpled dollars into the machine until it let out its high, metallic chime and the needle darted out.  Sinclair hissed as it punctured his skin, then groaned and writhed in pain as his bones began reconfiguring themselves back into their proper alignment, and the holes in his body knitted themselves back together.  Delta made low, pulsing noises, stroking Sinclair’s hair to soothe him.

Just like he would with a Little Sister, Sinclair marveled once the healing process finished and he could think again.

Delta paid for his own injection, growling, mask flashing briefly orange before the red drained and he lulled back into yellow.  Sinclair was staring up at him, still open-mouthed, until the splicers cut back in.

"Wait, I know what it is!  I’ll bet divey-boy’s got a thing for humans, eh?  And men too, I guess.  Some part of his brain stayed up there, and he - "

"Big Daddies don’t feel love.  Or even lust.  They don’t feel anything except anger.”

"Look at him!  If he’s not a queer, what is he?!"

"He’s…um…broken, maybe?"

Delta rumbled irritably again, stomping one foot at them.  They yelped and cleared out quickly, leaving Delta and Sinclair alone for the moment.

Sinclair shook his head in wonder, standing up.  ”Well, sport, they may be wrong about your proclivities, but I’ll tell you one thing - you weren’t supposed to rescue me.  Never heard of anything like it.”

Delta tilted his head, reaching out to Sinclair again.  Sinclair looked him up and down, perplexed, until Delta knelt down and lowered one shoulder.

Sinclair shook his head, eyes wide with shock.  ”Thanks, but I don’t need a ride.  Just walk me someplace safe, and I’ll be fine.”

Delta nodded, heading towards one of Rapture’s only remaining safe rooms.  He knew, instinctively, that his patting Sinclair and offering him a ride on his shoulder was borderline patronizing, and it shouldn’t have surprised him that he refused…

…but his resurfacing emotions were still in a jumbled mess, and unconditional protection was the only way he knew how to express his approval of someone.

At least this left his shoulders free for a Little Sister, though.


((Wanna prompt me? Click here to find out how!))

Posted 4 weeks ago

Commissions Signal Boost

talesfrommidgard:

Just got the damage for my latest trip to the hospital, and this time, they decided to punch me in the face with a $2200 bill.  Oddly enough, I don’t have that lying around and I can’t just pull it out of my butt, so guess what, y’all?  I’m selling my talents!

Those of you who follow me on chubbychoco may be familiar with my mermaid designs.  For those who aren’t, here’s some examples of what I do.

I’m opening commissions for these - name me any sea creature you like, and I will make it happen for $35.  In addition to this, I’m doing plastic canvas work as always (see examples beneath the RM), and I’d like to direct your attention to my Etsy shop, Choco Makes It.

I’ll be posting my mer commissions there, or, if you’d prefer, you can purchase them through PayPal or cash (if doing the latter, keep in mind I can only accept USD, and it will take me a bit longer to get started on your order because snail mail is slow).

Even if you’re not going to buy something, I’d like to ask that you signal boost this.  I don’t know where I’m going to come up with this kind of money, and even a magnet would help.  Thank you so much, guys; I love you all!!

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Posted 4 weeks ago
Spirk Coffee shop AU. Kirk is a flirty barista who flirts and Spock is his absolute favorite customer to do so with. Spock is equal parts annoyed and intreaged by him. Bonus points if you work in Chekov as the adorable busboy. ((Spock can be Vulcan or human. Ur choice.))
Anonymous asked

Annoyance.  Fascination.  Exasperation.  Spock knew that the emotions he was experiencing were a reflection of his human half, an echo of his lineage.  But that didn’t make James Kirk any less than what he was, and what he was was a man who knew how to get under his skin.

"You sure you don’t want me to slip some hot chocolate in here?" the barista asked, winking at Spock.  "Just a bit.  To help loosen you up."

"Thank you, no," Spock replied with his usual neutral expression.  "I’m on my way to work."

"Ditch," Jim responded as if it were painfully obvious.  "You come here every day, and you always make sure I’m your barista.  I refuse to believe that it’s coincidental, which means you’re looking for something."  His grin widened and he winked.  "Or someone."

Spock didn’t grace that with an emotional response.  ”That is a ridiculous conclusion.  Logic doesn’t - “

"We humans aren’t the most logical creatures, you may have noticed."

Spock let out a small huff of air.  ”My usual, please, Mister Kirk.”

Jim rolled his eyes and chuckled.  ”Sure, I’ll have Chekov bring it over as soon as it’s ready.”

Spock nodded and sat, waiting for his coffee and pastry and watching the people milling in and out.  And also Jim at work.  He tried to tell himself he was mostly people-watching, but in truth, he knew better than to lie to himself like that.  Jim was intriguing.  Something abut his confidence, his snarky surety, was strangely fascinating…even for a steadfast Vulcan with a respectable nine-to-five.  He moved with a casual sort of effectiveness, working the machines and pouring everything as though it were second nature.  Maybe it was; Spock didn’t know how long he’d had the job.

It wasn’t long before Chekov bustled over, bearing a to-go cup and bag, beaming like a curly-haired ray of Russian sunshine.  He handed both articles over, looking almost sheepish as he glanced at the sides of each item that were facing him.  ”Have a good morning, Mister Spock,” he said, his words thick with his homeland’s influence.  Spock always liked that about Chekov; carrying the traces of one’s roots was nothing to be ashamed of.  ”And, uh, feel free to ignore Mister Kirk’s…handiwork.”

"I beg your pardon?" Spock asked as he took them, but Chekov was already off to another customer, leaning over the table and laughing brightly as he delivered the man’s breakfast.

Spock turned the cup in his hand and saw what Chekov was referring to - there, in the bold black pen usually used to mark off the details of the coffee, was Jim’s contact info and a hastily scrawled ‘call me!’.  Spock looked on the back of the pastry bag to find a list of date activities with the note ‘if interested in a date, please circle stuff you’d be interested in and return bag when convenient’.  Spock raised an eyebrow.  He was no stranger to romance, but flirty baristas weren’t exactly his field of expertise.

Still…

Spock made his way over to the counter, waited in line, then gave Jim the slightest quirk of an eyebrow when he came up to the softly glowing countertop.  That sliver of emotion was enough to make Jim grin at him.  ”Coffee too hot?” he asked innocently.

"None of these activities would interest me," Spock said plainly, handing back the bag after extracting his gespar scone.  "I would, however, find great satisfaction in a trip to a museum of science or history."

Jim’s eyes lit up.  ”I like science.”

"Good.  Because I’m keeping the coffee cup."


((Wanna prompt me? Click here to find out how!))

Posted 1 month ago

A Short Halloween PSA

the-brain-fuckler:

tearlessrain:

Hey the thing I reblogged earlier reminded me to mention this:

I can promise all my followers that I do not post or reblog jump scares, ever, because A) I don’t like them and they suck, and B) I know at least a few of my followers have anxiety in one form or another and I’m not going to be that jerk.

So yes. There will be no jump scares from this blog, just wanted to ease your minds preemptively.

Jump scares are a cheap, lazy and detestable form of “horror” anyway.

And yeah, fuck anxiety inducing shit like that.

Posted 1 month ago

Commissions Signal Boost

Just got the damage for my latest trip to the hospital, and this time, they decided to punch me in the face with a $2200 bill.  Oddly enough, I don’t have that lying around and I can’t just pull it out of my butt, so guess what, y’all?  I’m selling my talents!

Those of you who follow me on chubbychoco may be familiar with my mermaid designs.  For those who aren’t, here’s some examples of what I do.

I’m opening commissions for these - name me any sea creature you like, and I will make it happen for $35.  In addition to this, I’m doing plastic canvas work as always (see examples beneath the RM), and I’d like to direct your attention to my Etsy shop, Choco Makes It.

I’ll be posting my mer commissions there, or, if you’d prefer, you can purchase them through PayPal or cash (if doing the latter, keep in mind I can only accept USD, and it will take me a bit longer to get started on your order because snail mail is slow).

Even if you’re not going to buy something, I’d like to ask that you signal boost this.  I don’t know where I’m going to come up with this kind of money, and even a magnet would help.  Thank you so much, guys; I love you all!!

Read More

Posted 1 month ago

According to the doctor, kidney infection and stones.  They’ve got me on the good stuff now, haha!  XD

Posted 1 month ago

Hey there, guys!
Sweet fucking shit on a stick, do I hurt. Also, I feel really trembly and jittery. I wouldn’t wish my problems on anyone I know, that’s for sure. I’m in the ER now, but I’m pretty sure this hospital has Wi-Fi. Hopefully I can give y’all some fluff or porn to look forward to.