♪ so take a look at what you've done ♪

[nothingtofear]

THE MOST OPEN OF POSTS

Comments

alfred;

[kippers]

[ a mild-mannered english man greets you at the door. something is off about his gaze though a soft smile tugs at his lips. ]

Good afternoon. [ his tone is bright, but there's curiosity and just a bit of mischeif lurking behind it. ] I do apologize, I didn't see a car in the drive. What brings you to Wayne Manor?

[killofthenight]

[She really is the queen of bad luck. Helena is back in Gotham on completely unrelated business to Bruce Wayne so of course her bike breaks down on her way out of town.

Maybe she shouldn't have been driving through to begin with. She's more sentimental than she lets on. She has to look at what was her home on another Earth even if it's different here just like everything else. Now here she is paying for it. She's too embarrassed to call Karen so seeking help from Alfred seems like her best bet. (And maybe she likes seeing him alive again even if different. Sue her.)]

I walked. [She confesses, clearly embarrassed and oddly sad.] I'm having trouble with my motorcycle. Do you mind calling someone to tow it? A taxi would be great too while you're at it.

[kippers]

...Oh. Of course. [ his eyes slide over her, carefully sizing her up. there are no visible weapons, not that that means anything. he had learned that in gotham, no one was as they seemed. still on his guard, he steps aside to let her in, waving for her to have a seat in the drawing room. ]

Sit tight here, Miss. I'll ring a service.

[littlestguano]

[His first clue that something had gone horribly terribly wrong was waking up in an alleyway to the sun beginning to rise over Gotham. That he is still in his uniform and all of his lines have gone dead, and that despite the fact that before he'd been knocked unconscious by some sort of burst of energy Batman had been at his side and is now nowhere to be seen is his second clue.

There are a dozen other clues that he passes by but in his haste to get back to the cave (stealing a set of civilian clothes on the way since it's daylight) he misses them all. It isn't until he is staring at a grove of trees where one of the cave entrances should be that he begins to realize that this is more than a case of Batman gone missing. After another minute of futilely searching for any of the entrances, he resigns himself to the front door.

He's actually surprised when it opens only a few seconds later having expected no one to answer to complete the sort of morning (night?) he's having. A second later his relief turns to shock as he takes in the form of one very young Alfred Pennyworth standing at the door of Wayne manor.

Oh fuck.]

What. [Eloquent.

Damian's complexion is considerably darker and his facial features somewhat softer, but there is no disguising the Wayne genes in this child, even with that. He could very easily pass for Bruce's brother.]

[kippers]

[ what indeed. one eyebrow peppered with gray sky-rockets. he notes the boy's appearance instantly, but nothing registers in his expression that would spell recognition. ]

What, indeed. Shall I fetch Master Bruce? You seem to be in a hurry. [ maybe another colorful friend like selina? though he knows something is definitely amiss here. he resigns to keep a close eye on the boy, reluctantly stepping aside to let him in. ]

[letmetakeaselfie]

Tony had been tasked with the very important mission of: Get Wanda Maximoff the hell out of dodge. While usually he would have stopped this one in the planning stages, he very much needs a break himself. It isn't like he and Pepper have gotten the chance to leave the country in years. And it will be... interesting, at least, spending some one-on-one time with the Scarlet Witch.

"Here we are, darling. Home sweet home..." For the next 72 hours anyway. He opens the door for her, after carting both their bags across the dock like the veritable pack mule he apparently is out of his armor. He's not bothered by it, sliding his sunglasses back into his hair as he hefts her suitcase to the rack and sets his on the floor nearby. "What should we do first?" Tony just wants to sleep in the pool tbh.

[divulsion]

Never in a million years would Wanda have ever thought she might end up on a long weekend in the Bahamas with Tony Stark, and certain not in the style to which he is accustomed. Trips away to the Barton Farm she might have expected, but this? Jet-setting around the world to lavish resorts? No. Definitely not, and even if she did? Never with Tony Stark.

But there she is, letting him carry in a bag of her stuff to their house-on-stilts. Carrying her purse over her shoulder, she looks around them, finding it hard not to be impressed by the clear, blue waters and the beautiful green hills in front of cloud-spotted skies. It's a paradise, one that she almost finds overwhelming.

"What do you do in places like these?" How much of what's seen on television or in travel brochures is real, and how much just a clever advertisement of a fantasy?

[letmetakeaselfie]

"Absolutely nothing," he replies, sighing contentedly. The prospect is almost alarming, considering their plate lately. But he can still remember what it was like, traveling around the world and leaving his worries on the casino room floor. "How about this. Let's freshen up, then grab some mai tais by the pool."

[laggard]

Sam isn't sure where he should take Bucky once he's found. A part of him never expects to find the soldier at all. But he won't give up -- he can't. Not when the alternative is disappointing Steve. It happens unexpectedly, and quite anticlimatically if he's honest. Almost like Bucky wanted to be caught. Not that he could blame him, he'd be exhausted too in his shoes.

He can't be sure if the former Winter Soldier will agree to go with him at all actually, and he knows he shouldn't be approaching him at all without Steve. But even the time it would take to shoot a quick text could put him in the wind again. And so even though he's severely outmatched, he decides to take his chances. Given how things went with Antman, this could be a serious miscalculation.

"...I think we have a mutual friend." Bring it on tbh.

[reconstitution]

He's tired of running. Almost two years of constantly changing locations is starting to wear him down. He's a soldier- he's been through a hell of a lot worse, and this is much better than being with HYDRA..anything is better than that. That's the thing about being hunted, though. Once someone picks up a scent, they'll never relent. He knows Steve has been chasing him at every turn- he's about as inconspicuous as a tiger in a chicken coop.

Bucky knows it'll never stop, but that's the thing about war. It doesn't stop, merely exchanges hands. That's how he finds himself where he does; he doesn't want to go directly to Steve, the tidal wave he's been avoiding would rise. Instead, he does a little digging. The man with him on the helecarriers-- the one he tore the wings off like a fly. He lived alone, though he had visitors every once in a while. That wouldn't do very well, so he does some more intel and finds a better solution.

Mrs. Wilson is a far better target. He 'happens' to run into her on her way home from grocery shopping. He mentions that he's met Sam. She fusses- it's weird. He can't remember ever being fussed over. She sits him down on the sofa and gives him a small plate of cookies. She makes him stay for dinner and offers him the sofa when it doesn't look like he has a place to go. It's just been him and his backpack for twenty months.

---And then Sam Wilson shows up. It was only a matter of time, but it hasn't taken as long as he thought it would. He crosses his arms, nodding curtly.

"It's still mutual after what he's learned? What you've learned?" The words are practically dragged out, he's so tired. It's been a few weeks since he's had a proper sleep cycle.

[laggard]

He sits down across from him and makes himself as small as possible, like one would when meeting a dog. He surprises himself by not being scared, and he isn't. He feels good about this even if at first he was worried about his mom. Even so, not really, Mama Wilson can handle herself. Still, it's all a little surreal. Eating cookies with the Winter Soldier in his childhood home.

"When Captain America asks you to jump, you say how high." He's not interested in the terrible things Bucky's done. This is his job, to get people through these patches. This might well be the most extreme case he's ever seen, but if he can help he won't hesitate. "Something tells me you can still remember at least that much."

for Fury

[morphogenia]

[It's a typical day for Kamala Khan. Her homework is taken care of so it's time for some patrolling. It's gone smoother as time goes on. Sure, she's a tiny lady in a dress to some, but most have gotten the idea that Ms. Marvel means business and can back it up. Crime has taken a decent dip as of late as a result.

That's why she's surprised when she finds some random group of guys harassing what appears to be an old homeless man minding his own business. If she were more experienced, she might have realized all these guys look like they're from out of town because you know they are. They each brought the kind of trouble that Captain America usually deals with to Jersey City.

She's not though so she takes the situation for what it is and intervenes without hesitation.] Hey!

[Ms. Marvel places her hands on her hips. Once they turn to her, she continues.] We respect our elders around here so either get lost or deal with me. Got it?

[oculatus]

[ oh god, this is embarrassing. a metaphor for his entire life could probably be found in this moment tbh. he hides his face with his hood and says nothing, willing the moment to end. it doesn't end, because he isn't the one with super powers. the boys (because that's what they are to nick -- rambunctious idiot kids. they laugh at her and carry on, and he croaks out a dismissal, hoping she won't recognize his voice for how wrecked it is anyway. ]

We're fine here. Aren't we? [ Yeah! Mind your own business, freak! shouts one. the others laugh again. This doesn't concern you. nick groans even though he knows there's no way this ends well for them. kamala khan has no idea the magnitude of her power and it's terrifying. and yet all he can do is watch, awed, as she takes them each out one by one without breaking a sweat. so much for not causing a scene. ]

[morphogenia]

[In her defense, they did start it. She can handle being called names, but when one of them tries to shove her she isn't going to take it and go. It's an easy enough fight since after a few fits they learn what everyone who faces her does: she means business and she can back it up with her actions.

Kamala waves them off when they run away. The bruises will heal in a couple of days, but now she won't have to worry about them picking on another homeless guy for like ever. That's the important thing. She's not dumb. Situations like that escalate. She's not having that in her city.]

Well now we're fine. You okay? They didn't hurt you or anything? Because I can punch them again.

[oorah]

[ he carries daredevil on his back through the city in the middle of the night. he owes matt that. probably more. this fucking asshole is going to live, and he's glad to be a part of that much. but he won't be up for hours, and frank knows he should leave... but elektra did ask him for a story. there aren't many people he can be honest with anymore. ]

I knew he couldn't give up the mask.

[blacksky]

[The fun part of being brought back by mystical means is your limits are seemingly nonexistent. Elektra protects Matt from dying with her underneath all that rubble through an unnatural strength. She can't explain how anymore than she can her complete mental breakdown at the end. It simply was the way things turned out. She's grateful to whatever god is out there that Matthew was able to survive. As for her, well, she's working on how she feels about that. Seeing Frank helps keep from thinking on it too hard which is necessary given how she dealt with the pain and trauma before.

She forces a smile once Matthew is stable enough to be left alone with them for the time being. She does want to know how he is. She still likes him even if he couldn't prevent her death. It's something that he managed to save Matt when he was at his lowest though she'll never admit it to him.]

It's my fault. He couldn't resist saving me the one time I needed a rescue.

[oorah]

[ frank's look is knowing, but gentle. he doesn't hate her either, for all his posturing. ]

The 'one' time?

[oorah]

[ waiting until kamala kisses her parents goodbye and is en route to school alone, frank drops down from the fire escape and falls neatly in step with her. it's the epitome of shady basically. ] Wanna play hooky?

[morphogenia]

[It probably says a lot about their friendship that she starts the answer before she questions what's going on here. She doesn't remember even telling him what time she leaves for school since when would that ever come up?? Kamala reflects on what's going on this week and nods.] I'm up for it. Most of today is review stuff and it's not like I never study...

[And it hits her what's happening here. Kamala turns to him and tries very hard to keep her voice down.] Wait! Are you serious about me ditching or is this a test to see if I'll just wander off with anyone?? And why are you walking this way on a school day anyways?!

[oorah]

The last ferry to Long Island and guess who's on it? It's like a premise to a bad bar joke, but Frank glances over, thinking about the last time he did this. His kids were maybe 12 and 9 and Frank Jr. was asking him about Afghanistan. He swallows and turns back to the water. At least silences between the two of them are always amicable. Frank leans out against the railing and inhales the fresh salt air. It's chilly tonight, but in a refreshing way. He's only wearing a heavy hoodie though he has the drawstrings pulled, hood held close to his face. "There's no return ferry tonight." But Bucky knows that, they both had. It's not like either of them are strangers to roughing it, and they can get a hotel if it's really all that bad. He expects it won't be, only saying the words because he has nothing else to say that isn't thank you. It feels good, being out here. He almost feels like a bit of his old self for a moment, though he'd never let that feeling linger.

[lefthandfree]

There’s a slow nod at Frank’s words, the underlying meaning never lost. They’ve found their own rhythm, their own language. What often goes said by others means little when the callouses keep them from feeling too quickly, too deeply, so they’ve created a way to convey what they wish they could do better without ever needing to do it.

(It’s why silence often fills the air around them, the need to speak never truly present even when they find themselves idly chattering about this or that. No matter what the topic, there always remains a singular truth: when it’s said, it’s meant.)

Donned in a light zip hoodie and a field jacket himself (old habits die hard), he tugs at the lapels of his jacket to better block out the wind and takes a long, slow breath. If he closes his eyes, it could almost feel like the fall of ’41, before everything went to hell. He keeps them open, tracing the shapes in the distance with his gaze for a bit instead before offering a response.

“We’ll manage.” As if it’s a mystery to them, but it’s as close to don't worry, I’m here as he’s willing to go. They’ve had enough nights on their own; there’s no mistaking the company of someone who understands so wholly is something precious. But because he's never been one to resist a good tease when the opportunity arises, he tacks on with a soft grin, “I’m sure people out there have doghouses too.”

in which dorothy is claire temple and frank is matt murdock ig

[tornadoed]

[ dorothy gets back from oz and the small town in kansas that felt too small before feels constricting now. she'd fought so hard to get back and she's glad that she did, but it doesn't feel like enough anymore. she's seen another world. she barely knows this one.

so she applies for a job in new york, kisses em and henry goodbye and packs her bags.

she doesn't mean to get involved in anything or with anyone. she means to do her job and get to know the city and never, ever use the powers she somehow brought with her to this world. she means to go out drinking and make friends and not get too close to anyone because after lucas, she's not looking to get her heart broken again.

(everybody leaves. who could love her if her own mother gave her up? and maybe she had good reasons, but -- still.)

she doesn't mean to find a man bleeding in an alley, but she does and of course she can't just let him bleed out. she's a nurse, it's her job to help people. so help him she does, despite his protests. he leaves her tiny apartment long before she thinks he should, creeping out while she catches a few hours of shuteye, and that could be it -- but then she sees him again in the bar she sometimes frequents.

she gives him her number that night, to call if he ever needs a nurse again. she doesn't think he will, but he does.

and then again, and she's at his place and helping herself to a beer from his fridge after having bandaged his stomach. (she didn't look at his abs. much.) she opens it and sits down next to him on the couch. ]

Nothing for you. Nurse's orders.

this is so good

[oorah]

[ since that first night dorothy had found him, and brought him back from the brink, he knew he owed her a debt. it's something he hates being aware of and even more when he isn't sure how he'll ever repay it. not when he keeps getting fucked up courtesy of daredevil's friends, anyway. but she's always there, his cavalry and his alone to call in.

something about abdominal injuries are so exhausting to heal and he's slumped against one side of the couch with only his bandaging to cover up his torso. he's too tired to care and they'd become comfortable with one another besides. something that shouldn't be so casual considering how they got there, but maybe they're both desensitized. frank lifts an eyebrow her way at the "order" but instead of heeding it he plucks the bottle right out of her hand and takes a swig. ]

[backtobed]

[ clint moans in a dramatic fashion as he comes to on the couch, twitching awake and wincing as his nose drags through the puddle of drool he'd left behind. how long had he been out...? slowly coming back to him is getting shot, which really not his fave pasttime even for how often it seems to happen. it's only as he blinks swollen eyes open, rubbing the crust out of them and smelling coffee that is at least twice as expensive as the kind he "buys" that he realizes - toto's not in kansas anymore. meaning: he's at nat's apartment. still surreal as fuq for him but it's better than a dumpster this time of year. it's overall a less judgy environment though.

he swings his legs over the side of the sofa and sits up far too fast, putting the heel of his hand to his temple as he gropes blindly for his hearing aid with the other. everything hurts, but that's familiar at least. what's not is the... everything else. once he gets the aid into his ear canal he's able to hear nat moving about the kitchen, stealthily as ever, and he sighs, flopping back into the couch cushions and checking to make sure he hasn't bled through his bandage. not because he actually cares about that sort of thing, but because he imagines natasha might actually kill him if he gets blood on her furniture. or... more than he had previously, at some unspecified point in the past. ]

She took my dog, Nat. [ it's a pathetic rail against the way life is headed for him at the moment, completing the picture by hanging his head in his hands. can someone! just! take!! pity!!! on! him! already!!!!! ]

[redrooms]

[Natasha hears Clint moving around, but doesn't actually peek her head out from the kitchen until he starts talking. She takes one look at him, eyes flicking down to his bandages, and frowns. Really, she's not so much worried about blood getting anywhere—she is disturbingly efficient at removing blood from things—but she is expecting him to move around too much and open his wounds again. God, Clint. She goes to join him on the couch, smoothing down an edge of tape holding a gauze pad down to the gash on his forehead.]

Who did? Kate?

[She's Heard Things.]