comment_fic 906-910: Batman & Avengers movieverse
Title: untitled
Fandom: Justice League cartoon
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic; character death
Pairings: Terry/Dana
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 210
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any team of heroes, now we rise/and we are everywhere
Bruce Wayne dies on a cold winter's day, and he's almost a century old.
His funeral is massive; people come from around the world to pay their respects. A lot of them are in disguise because even after his death, Batman doesn't want his identity revealed.
Terry doesn't cry. Not until Clark Kent (not looking a day older than the day he met Batman) puts a hand on Terry's shoulder and says, "I'm proud of you, son."
He doesn't shake off Superman's hand. Instead he looks at the crowd, filling the room. There's barely enough space to stand, so many people have come. He recognizes every person in disguise.
Batman wasn't the first, but he was one of the greatest. Terry's always known it's a heavy mantle to wear, but he - it was vengeance at first, but that’s why Bruce started, too.
How it starts doesn’t matter. Where it ends does.
Tears slip down his cheeks as Terry steps away from Clark. Dana is waiting, holding their seats, and he is not Batman, not here. Here, he is Bruce Wayne’s son, and he sees the rest of Bruce’s kids in the audience, all of them come home one final time.
The service starts and Terry holds Dana’s hand the entire time.
Title: Never gonna hold the hand of another guy
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Travelin’ Soldier by The Dixie Chicks
Warnings: takes place post Cap2
Pairings: Steve/Bucky leanings
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 230
Point of view: third
Prompt: any, any, Travelin' Soldier
In storage somewhere, in a museum famous the world over, there is a packet of letters written home. They all start with, Hey, Steve, and end with, I’ll see you soon, Bucky.
In the packet next to it is another bundled bunch of letters. They all start with, Hey, Buck, and end with, Don’t worry about me, I’m doing fine, Steve.
Bucky’s letters to Steve never made it to him because he’d been living at Camp Lehigh, not in their Brooklyn apartment. Steve’s letters to Bucky chased him around Europe, and were then forgotten after Steve’s dramatic rescue.
The letters were carefully kept by Gabe Jones and Peggy Carter, and then finally donated, when the first talk of a Captain America exhibit started up. There was such a wealth of information, though, and the letters were a bit personal, even with how both men must have censored themselves, since the letters would be examined by authorities before being sent on.
When they pull Steve from the ice, the curator thinks about offering the letters back to him, but then the Battle of Manhattan, and then HYDRA -
Well. There are more important things to worry about than 70-year old letters in storage.
But then Bucky Barnes is back from the dead, and he’s standing beside Steve Rogers, and the curator pulls those packets of letters out and mails them home.
Title: a good man to be
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: Spoilers for Captain America 2.
Pairings: Steve/Bucky
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 235
Point of view: third
Prompt: any, any, let's think romance and I'll be someone else
Bucky Barnes loved Steve Rogers enough to come back from the dead and rip through the Winter Soldier to save him.
Steve Rogers loved Bucky Barnes enough to break into Hydra with barely any training, on the off-chance that he might still be alive. Enough to drop his shield and stop fighting because being dead was better than being without Bucky for one moment more.
Bucky Barnes is dead, but so is the Winter Soldier, the Asset, the weapon that Hydra created with Bucky Barnes’ corpse.
So who is he now?
… who does he want to be?
.
His parents called him James. His masters called him nothing at all. His handlers called him the Asset. His enemies called him the Winter Soldier. His unit called him Barnes or Sarge.
Steve called him Bucky.
.
Bucky Barnes is dead. So is the Asset.
But Bucky rose long enough to save Steve Rogers, so maybe… maybe he can try to be Bucky again. If Bucky had earned Steve Rogers’ love, he must be a good man to be.
.
Bucky steps out of the Smithsonian into a bright noon-day sun and walks towards the street. It is a new world. A world without masters, without handlers, without orders, without missions. A terrifying world, yes, but also…
A world with Steve. He’s done shaping the century. It’s time to live.
He’ll kill anyone who gets in the way.
Title: straight on ‘til morning
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Peter Pan
Warnings: pov from a depressed, somewhat suicidal person; spoilers for Captain America: Winter Soldier
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 235
Point of view: third
Prompt: any, any, second star on the left and straight on til morning Peter Pan
The stars have yet to change, when he can see them. At first, that is all he can remember -- looking up at the night sky, counting the stars. Giving them new names, new stories, the sickly boy who became a beyond-healthy man listening, curled up next to him.
He leaves the city for the quiet, and he lies out at night, and he watches the stars. He eats when he can, drinks water from streams and ponds, avoids people. His not-arm isn't doing too well, but he doesn't care. It's not a part of him. It's a part of them, and while he thinks, sometimes, that he should rip them to pieces, burn them to ashes, crush them to dust... most of the time, he just wants to sleep or watch the stars.
He is so tired. So tired. He doesn't -- he doesn't have the words for the feelings, still isn't quite sure what feelings are, but whenever he looks up at the night sky, it calms him.
There are people looking for him, either to help or to harm (or to reclaim, to unmake, but he will die before he lets that happen again), but no one is looking out in the quiet, in the woods.
He is hungry, and he is tired, and he hopes, sometimes, whenever he falls into restless dreams, that he just won't wake up.
But he always wakes up.
Title: And me without mittens
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Karla Kuskin
Warnings: post Captain America 2
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 345
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any, secret identity
"Hey, dude," Sora calls, "hold the elevator!" Her hands are full of groceries and Val's bratty kid, so she breathes a sigh of relief when the door stays open. As she stumbles in, one of her upstairs' neighbors grabs two of the bags. "Thanks," she mutters, trying to settle Ryan more firmly in her arms, but he's a squirmy little fella, like he heard her call him bratty in her mind, which, hey -- mutants are a thing now. It'd be just her luck, honestly.
"Which floor?" the guy asks, still holding her groceries.
"Four," she says. "Normally, I just take the stairs, but today? Hell no." She glances up at him in time to catch his nod of commiseration.
She blinks at him. She's pretty sure she's seen glimpses of him before; he's the only one on the sixth floor, and the encroaching gangs had collectively stepped back when he moved in, which, yeah, that was pretty awesome, but he looks totally different than that shadow. Beneath the stubble and dirty hair, there had apparently been hiding quite the hottie, with bright blue eyes and hey there, holy cheekbones.
(And Val cannot ever meet him, because she always goes for the tragic douchebags, see: Ryan's dad and the clusterfuck that was.)
"I'm Sora," she says as the elevator stops at her floor. "This little guy is my nephew, Ryan. Thanks, again."
"Jimmy," he says. His gaze goes from the grocery sacks in his hand to her still-full hands and the little boy squirming again. "Do you need help?" he asks.
She shakes her head. "Thanks, but no," she says. "I've got this. It was nice to meet you, Jimmy." She takes the bags back and doesn't wait for the doors to close.
She lets all the bags fall right inside her apartment so that she can let Ryan down, then picks the bags up as he toddles off.
Maybe she should make a batch of cookies to bring up to Jimmy?
Nah. But she'll definitely strike up a conversation the next time she sees him.
Fandom: Justice League cartoon
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic; character death
Pairings: Terry/Dana
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 210
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any team of heroes, now we rise/and we are everywhere
Bruce Wayne dies on a cold winter's day, and he's almost a century old.
His funeral is massive; people come from around the world to pay their respects. A lot of them are in disguise because even after his death, Batman doesn't want his identity revealed.
Terry doesn't cry. Not until Clark Kent (not looking a day older than the day he met Batman) puts a hand on Terry's shoulder and says, "I'm proud of you, son."
He doesn't shake off Superman's hand. Instead he looks at the crowd, filling the room. There's barely enough space to stand, so many people have come. He recognizes every person in disguise.
Batman wasn't the first, but he was one of the greatest. Terry's always known it's a heavy mantle to wear, but he - it was vengeance at first, but that’s why Bruce started, too.
How it starts doesn’t matter. Where it ends does.
Tears slip down his cheeks as Terry steps away from Clark. Dana is waiting, holding their seats, and he is not Batman, not here. Here, he is Bruce Wayne’s son, and he sees the rest of Bruce’s kids in the audience, all of them come home one final time.
The service starts and Terry holds Dana’s hand the entire time.
Title: Never gonna hold the hand of another guy
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Travelin’ Soldier by The Dixie Chicks
Warnings: takes place post Cap2
Pairings: Steve/Bucky leanings
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 230
Point of view: third
Prompt: any, any, Travelin' Soldier
In storage somewhere, in a museum famous the world over, there is a packet of letters written home. They all start with, Hey, Steve, and end with, I’ll see you soon, Bucky.
In the packet next to it is another bundled bunch of letters. They all start with, Hey, Buck, and end with, Don’t worry about me, I’m doing fine, Steve.
Bucky’s letters to Steve never made it to him because he’d been living at Camp Lehigh, not in their Brooklyn apartment. Steve’s letters to Bucky chased him around Europe, and were then forgotten after Steve’s dramatic rescue.
The letters were carefully kept by Gabe Jones and Peggy Carter, and then finally donated, when the first talk of a Captain America exhibit started up. There was such a wealth of information, though, and the letters were a bit personal, even with how both men must have censored themselves, since the letters would be examined by authorities before being sent on.
When they pull Steve from the ice, the curator thinks about offering the letters back to him, but then the Battle of Manhattan, and then HYDRA -
Well. There are more important things to worry about than 70-year old letters in storage.
But then Bucky Barnes is back from the dead, and he’s standing beside Steve Rogers, and the curator pulls those packets of letters out and mails them home.
Title: a good man to be
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: Spoilers for Captain America 2.
Pairings: Steve/Bucky
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 235
Point of view: third
Prompt: any, any, let's think romance and I'll be someone else
Bucky Barnes loved Steve Rogers enough to come back from the dead and rip through the Winter Soldier to save him.
Steve Rogers loved Bucky Barnes enough to break into Hydra with barely any training, on the off-chance that he might still be alive. Enough to drop his shield and stop fighting because being dead was better than being without Bucky for one moment more.
Bucky Barnes is dead, but so is the Winter Soldier, the Asset, the weapon that Hydra created with Bucky Barnes’ corpse.
So who is he now?
… who does he want to be?
.
His parents called him James. His masters called him nothing at all. His handlers called him the Asset. His enemies called him the Winter Soldier. His unit called him Barnes or Sarge.
Steve called him Bucky.
.
Bucky Barnes is dead. So is the Asset.
But Bucky rose long enough to save Steve Rogers, so maybe… maybe he can try to be Bucky again. If Bucky had earned Steve Rogers’ love, he must be a good man to be.
.
Bucky steps out of the Smithsonian into a bright noon-day sun and walks towards the street. It is a new world. A world without masters, without handlers, without orders, without missions. A terrifying world, yes, but also…
A world with Steve. He’s done shaping the century. It’s time to live.
He’ll kill anyone who gets in the way.
Title: straight on ‘til morning
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Peter Pan
Warnings: pov from a depressed, somewhat suicidal person; spoilers for Captain America: Winter Soldier
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 235
Point of view: third
Prompt: any, any, second star on the left and straight on til morning Peter Pan
The stars have yet to change, when he can see them. At first, that is all he can remember -- looking up at the night sky, counting the stars. Giving them new names, new stories, the sickly boy who became a beyond-healthy man listening, curled up next to him.
He leaves the city for the quiet, and he lies out at night, and he watches the stars. He eats when he can, drinks water from streams and ponds, avoids people. His not-arm isn't doing too well, but he doesn't care. It's not a part of him. It's a part of them, and while he thinks, sometimes, that he should rip them to pieces, burn them to ashes, crush them to dust... most of the time, he just wants to sleep or watch the stars.
He is so tired. So tired. He doesn't -- he doesn't have the words for the feelings, still isn't quite sure what feelings are, but whenever he looks up at the night sky, it calms him.
There are people looking for him, either to help or to harm (or to reclaim, to unmake, but he will die before he lets that happen again), but no one is looking out in the quiet, in the woods.
He is hungry, and he is tired, and he hopes, sometimes, whenever he falls into restless dreams, that he just won't wake up.
But he always wakes up.
Title: And me without mittens
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Karla Kuskin
Warnings: post Captain America 2
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 345
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any, secret identity
"Hey, dude," Sora calls, "hold the elevator!" Her hands are full of groceries and Val's bratty kid, so she breathes a sigh of relief when the door stays open. As she stumbles in, one of her upstairs' neighbors grabs two of the bags. "Thanks," she mutters, trying to settle Ryan more firmly in her arms, but he's a squirmy little fella, like he heard her call him bratty in her mind, which, hey -- mutants are a thing now. It'd be just her luck, honestly.
"Which floor?" the guy asks, still holding her groceries.
"Four," she says. "Normally, I just take the stairs, but today? Hell no." She glances up at him in time to catch his nod of commiseration.
She blinks at him. She's pretty sure she's seen glimpses of him before; he's the only one on the sixth floor, and the encroaching gangs had collectively stepped back when he moved in, which, yeah, that was pretty awesome, but he looks totally different than that shadow. Beneath the stubble and dirty hair, there had apparently been hiding quite the hottie, with bright blue eyes and hey there, holy cheekbones.
(And Val cannot ever meet him, because she always goes for the tragic douchebags, see: Ryan's dad and the clusterfuck that was.)
"I'm Sora," she says as the elevator stops at her floor. "This little guy is my nephew, Ryan. Thanks, again."
"Jimmy," he says. His gaze goes from the grocery sacks in his hand to her still-full hands and the little boy squirming again. "Do you need help?" he asks.
She shakes her head. "Thanks, but no," she says. "I've got this. It was nice to meet you, Jimmy." She takes the bags back and doesn't wait for the doors to close.
She lets all the bags fall right inside her apartment so that she can let Ryan down, then picks the bags up as he toddles off.
Maybe she should make a batch of cookies to bring up to Jimmy?
Nah. But she'll definitely strike up a conversation the next time she sees him.