I'm a monster in chains.

That my gaze always finds you That you have a hold on my heart That I don't know what to do Every time we're apart Tell me does it scare you That you want me even when you shouldn't Because I don't belong to you And you're certainly not mine But maybe in another universe We could be together.

[van-dyne]

We’re in the endgame now.

[hcoanwyx-81]

I’m sorry are we just going to accept Captain Marvel as anything besides King?

[asaelia]

Well, the Queen is the most powerful piece, and so is Carol, so…

[brucie-deactivated05092020-deac]

yeah exactly. tony is and has always been vulnerable. look at the others they’re gods and magicians, genetically enhanced, kings, or spies with years of training. what felt a bit different was that the king is brought out at the end, right? so how could tony be the king, he’s been fighting the fight for years. but then i thought about and it struck me. think of it from thanos’ pov. then the game shifts. then look at carol. the queen. she’s been out in space for a long time, and how much do you wanna bet she’d lay down thanos’ ass if he so much as came near the planet she lives on? it’d be a joke is he’d not at least heard of her.

tony on the other hand, has barely ever been to space and only first met thanos on titan. it’s a metaphor: the king isn’t powerful, like earth. it was nothing compared to what thanos deals with, but tony didn’t let it happen. the king can kill if you get near it. tony nuked thanos’ army. and his only direct interaction with thanos came at the end.

given that, i’d say tony as king and carol as queen is a pretty sound analysis.

[milkmynk]

Spirit Pact : Quick imagine

Keika : *slams door open* “TANMOKU KI!!!!”

Tanmoku : *barely glances up* “What?”

Keika : *storms over to the table and slams his palms on it* “Why did you lie to me that k-kissing is needed to transfer spiritual energy?!?!”

Tanmoku : *flips a page, completely unruffled* “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you that there are other ways of transferring spiritual energy.”

Keika : *slapping table repeatedly in frustration* “That’s what I’m talking about, why didn’t you just do it in those ways then?!”

Tanmoku : *hands stop moving for a second, before closing his book and setting it down calmly*

Tanmoku : *gets to his feet and walks deliberately over to Keika’s side of the table, making Keika shift backwards nervously* “Because…”

Tanmoku : “… Because, I prefer to do it this way.”

My SpiritPact posts

[lesbianlanarcher]

Hearts Grow Fonder

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship: Tony Stark/Bruce Wayne (comics & films)

Tags: Rare pairings, crossovers & fandom fusions, IronBat, TonyBruce, romance, late night conversations, long-distance relationship, idiots in love, life partners, hopeless romantics, mutual pining, slice of life, domestic... kinda?, one shot

Summary: Long distance relationships are difficult, especially when it's Valentine's Day and you can't be with the one person you're meant to share it with.

Word count: 2099

Author's note: I completely forgot I wrote this last year for my girlfriend, and also forgot to post it here. So for all three of you tonybruce shippers out there, enjoy :)

Quarter past midnight in a rainy, cloudy Malibu; fifteen minutes past three in a snowy, blustery Gotham. Two-thousand, seven-hundred and ninety-nine miles between them.

Sometimes, Tony forgot about the statistical barriers since the physical ones hurt a whole lot more. A couple dozen sensationalist tabloid headlines were easier to digest than an undetermined length of time away from the activities that birthed those headlines. Even if they did annoy him to no end. Being on his own meant he had more time for idly sitting around and thinking, which soon turned into overthinking, and then a restless night. Then another, three, four. And before he knew it, an entire week of sleep had eluded him.

Most of the time, Bruce tried not to dwell on the near-constant ache that was left behind when they inevitably had to part. It didn't do any good for him, especially not when he had work to do, and being distracted could mean the difference between returning home with crucial clues or a cracked clavicle. But it was always there. Always reminding him that he was missing a piece of himself, that he could be cradled in those familiar loving arms rather than breaking ones that belonged to strangers. And before he knew it, he was a pining, distracted mess before the night was through.

“This sucks.”

But such was their arrangement. An arrangement that had been meticulously crafted to ensure complete safety on both their ends, efficiency, and harmony. Or as much harmony as they could possibly hope to find in their lives.

“Well…”

“It does.”

And compromises had to be made, even if neither of them were particularly fond of them. Appearances had to be maintained. Duties needed to be fulfilled. Cases pled to be solved. Order called to be sustained. Legacies demanded to be upheld.

“You’re in a particularly surly mood tonight.”

“Great detecting, Detective.”

“And especially derisive, it seems.”

It was better than nothing, though. Years ago, the mere thought of a relationship would have been laughable. As if they could ever make such a fanciful notion work. Yet, half a decade later, things weren't too awful. Perhaps not the most smooth sailing, but they anticipated that. They’d managed to surprise both themselves and each other in countless ways, managed to keep everything together as best people like them could. Managed; they had managed.

“Why shouldn't I be?” Tony glances up at the holographic image floating in the air of his workshop, pouting like a petulant child. “Everyone else is out there, having fun, doing regular couple shit, and I'm here. Up to my elbows in motor oil with spanners coming out my ears. Stuck with a robot who is more trouble than she is helpful!”

“Ah,” Bruce tilts his head to one side, lips tugging up into a slightly amused simper as he hears DUM-E’s distinctive defensive whirr. “So, it's all about you, is it?”

“I–No–” Tony frowns, actually re-considering his words. “That's not what I meant. You know it isn't.”

“I know what you meant.”

“So why are you laughing at me?”

“Did you hear me laugh? You know, three hours of sleep a week doesn't bode well for auditory hallucinations.”

“You’re grinning!”

“Am not.”

“Smiling, at the very least.”

“Gosh. Can't I smile when I'm talking to you now?”

Immediately, his expression softens. “Of course you can,” He says with a sigh, sounding close to defeated.

That makes Bruce sit up in his seat; this is so very uncharacteristic for his lover. “Tony?” His voice carries an unspoken question.

“Yeah, I know. I’m being a baby.”

“...I wouldn’t say that.”

An unsparing, almost exasperated glance is cast to the hologram, trying not to be deterred by the smudges of black kajal still around his eyes. Or the mussed hair and slightly rosy cheeks. No one should have been able to look that handsome after a six hour patrol.

“A whiny teenager, perhaps.”

“Oh, goodie. I’ve finally grown up.” With another sigh, he plops his chin to his palm, haphazardly smearing some grease onto his cheek.

Bruce finds the action incomprehensibly endearing. There was once a time where Tony’s griping used to endlessly irritate him, which was incredibly ironic since he basically coined the word. However, now it’s not only something to be expected when his lover is in one of those moods, but something that actually amuses him. It’s almost like staring into a mirror.

“Look, I know it’s unfortunate we can’t spend today together–”

Tony scoffs, “Unfortunate? It’s a damn tragedy, Bruce. A cataclysm, some might say.”

He tries not to let his expression betray his words when he carries on sincerely, “But today isn’t exactly different from any other day. Not really.”

“Well, it is actually.”

“From a capitalistic perspective, sure. But it’s just a gimmick. You should know that better than most people.”

“Ohh, here we go.”

Bruce doesn’t even need to look at him to know he’s rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe you fall in the same trap each year.”

“Correct me if I’m mistaken, but don’t Wayne Enterprises decorate their lobby in hearts and streamers and balloons each year? Or do you not notice the commoners dwelling beneath you?”

“And while I appreciate the comically huge bouquet of flowers you had delivered earlier,” He presses on, ignoring that deliberately tactless comment, “You know what’ll happen to them.”

“Billionaire on billionaire crime is not cool, baby. Being a hypocrite is even less cool.”

“They’ll wilt and wither and die.”

Tony just stares at him for a few seconds, blinking wearily. “Wow.” He raises a brow, not expecting such a sombre note on a day like today. “That’s bleak, even for you.”

“My point is,” Bruce continues, glancing to the side of the Cave where a small portion of the flowers sit in a crystal vase, “Big gestures and showering people in money is all well and good, if you’re into that sort of thing–”

“Said the gazillionaire.”

He looks back at the giant computer screen that bears his lover’s slightly stricken, slightly offended face. “–People use this day as an excuse rather than an actual reason to be affectionate and show they care.”

“Jesus Christ, someone woke up on the philosophically cynical side of bed today.”

“Anthony.”

“What?”

“You’re not listening.”

“I am listening. There’s nothing else to do except listen to you.”

“No, you're not listening. You're just yapping.”

Tony pulls an almost disgusted face, “Don't… Don’t do that–”

Bruce taps an increasingly impatient booted foot against the metal floor of the Cave. “And missing my point.”

“–Using Gen Z lingo. God. Freaks me out. Like I married some TikTok addicted teenager.”

“See?”

“No, Bruce,” Yawning, Tony deflates even further into his chair, “I don't see. Actually kinda struggling to see much of anything right now.”

Growing slightly bored of the discussion by now, Bruce decides to cut all subtly. “Does your love for me increase on Valentine’s? And suddenly decrease the next day?”

He’s met by a blank stare, a few slow blinks, then another eye roll. That's how he knows he's got him.

“Does it?”

“Of course it doesn't.” Tony’s intelligent enough to fill in the gaps himself, even if he did already know what his immovably tenacious lover was getting at. Mostly, he was just being stubborn for the sake of it. To see if Bruce would get riled up or if this placid persona is a by-product of the day he's disputing to be of any real significance. Usually, he was always a bit more testy and liable to snapping after a patrol; all that leftover adrenaline and over abundance of testosterone hardly made for a suitable wind down. “But you're also missing my point.”

“Which is?”

“I miss you.”

Well, there’s no use in contesting that, is there? Not even Bruce Wayne wants to say something that'll wipe the smitten, wistful gleam from Tony's eyes. It's far too pretty a sight for that.

“I miss you too, baby.”

And definitely not when he feels the exact same way.

“Then what the hell are you doing sitting in that damn Cave?”

It's not like it would be impossible to see each other tonight. One private jet or super-suit flight is all that separates them. A few hours or mere minutes to get what they both so desperately want and obviously need.

“I could ask the same of you.”

But, once again, practicality is required of them. Imposed upon them, even. They can't pretend it doesn't exist, isn't always looming over them, reminding them that things can't be quite so easy even with their copious amounts of resources.

“You know my schedule,” Tony’s back to pouting.

Bruce feels almost inclined to do so himself, “And you know mine.”

Stalemate.

“So, we return to my earlier statement–”

“–This sucks.”

Tony shakes his head, letting out an affectionate tut. “You're impossible.”

Bruce raises a brow at him, a much sweeter and sincere smile curling his lips now. “Have you met yourself?”

“I’m a perfect delight.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah… You are.”

“Goodness, that almost sounded dreamy.”

“Well,” Shrugging, he relaxes into his seat, slouching down, forced to crane his head up to admire that smug face. “Guess the occasion’s getting to me.”

An equal amount of adoration is looking right back at him, “Stop the presses, Bruce Wayne–”

Cutting off whatever smart retort was about to tumble out his mouth, a mouth he's craving to taste and feel again, the Gothamite proposes “I’ll see if I can reschedule a few meetings this week, free up some time for you to stay at the Manor.”

Despite the sanguine, hopeful visage, Tony can't help himself, “You couldn't have done that earlier?”

“Or I could just let them be and you can stay exactly where you are. On your lonesome. Oh, wait, my mistake. You'd still have that troublesome robot of yours.”

“Kidding. That was a joke. I rescind my comment.”

“I thought as much.”

Now, that pout is turning from bothered to downright devious. “...Sooooo…”

Bruce lifts a brow, prompting him to spit it out.

“The Ocelot? Our regular booth? And lots of coconut shrimp?”

“You're obsessed with that place.”

“Well…” Tony crooks an all too familiar smirk at him, full of mischief and mirth alike, “It has great service and even better management.”

And of course, Bruce capitulates. Because he can't say no, not to Tony.

“Ocelot it is.”

Even if there are countless other restaurants to eat at, other experiences waiting for them, other sights to see. They are, after all, both creatures of habit who know each other inside-out.

“You're too easy, Wayne.” Tony grins at him, like the cat who got the cream, “Far too sweet on me.”

“And only for you,” Bruce replies, feeling the burden that always seems to be weighing down his shoulders lessen slightly at the prospect. “When you actually happen to deserve it.”

“How lucky am I? Being so generously spoiled like this?” His tone is sardonic but the words are true enough.

There was definitely an element of luck involved with bringing the two of them together in the first place. Luck in the sense that despite their differences, their grief, their torment, their laments that went unheard for so many years, they still somehow found each other. They were still able to see each other, recognise the same light in the other, and do everything in their power to ensure it is never extinguished.

After a quiet moment, Bruce glances over at the flowers in the Cave again; they're somewhat fascinating to him. Red and black roses, fresh and ambrosial. No one’s ever bought him flowers before; it's usually him buying them for others. But Tony has. Every year since they've been together. He can't help but smile every time he catches a glimpse of the bouquet.

Tony watches him, unable to keep himself from smiling too. It's somewhat of a rare and sacred thing to see Bruce so relaxed and calm this late at night.

Then, as if they're both reading each other's minds, as if they're completely tuned into the other, they both utter something at the exact same time.

“I love you.”

And it's as if there is absolutely no distance separating them at all. All that is forgotten with the reassurance there even exists a person who understands and accepts and loves them as much as they do. Everything in between that is simply as it always was — Matters they'll work through together. One way or another, they would figure out all the complexities and challenges together.

———————

Originally posted on AO3 if you'd like to support over there (or read more of my dumb tonybruce fics) : https://archiveofourown.org/works/63070615

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[avexel]

everyone has their own crackship that has 20 to 50 fics on AO3 so they gotta repopulate an entire ship of their own

[hardkittyprince]

I am so into batman right now I am a Marvel girl but now I am marvel and batman girl I am so in love with batfamily after reading ironbat fanfiction

[redstrangers]

do y’all fw some ironbat. this goes to the 3 ironbat shippers out there

[starkbarnes-lovechild]

I hope I’m one of those three shippers. *cackles*

[butterflywordsmith]

The reason ironbat is a fun ship is that Bruce and Tony have compatible Daddy to Princess ratios on the Baby Girl Spectrum. In this essay-

[starkbarnes-lovechild]

PUBLISH THE ESSAY SO I HAVE A SOURCE TO CITE.

[airas-story]

could you write about ghost!ironstrange?

“Seriously, Tony?” Stephen asked, letting out an exasperated groan as Tony started messing with the furniture of the Stark-turned-Avengers-turned-Heroes Tower. A new set of heroes had moved in over the last year, calling themselves the Protectors. The new PR game was very creative. Stephen rolled his eyes at the thought. “You’re going to get us banished,” Stephen added. “Again.”

“Maybe this time it’ll stick,” Tony suggested, entirely nonchalant. Tony had stopped bemoaning the eternity of their existence four and a half decades ago when they’d been banished for the 124th time and snapped right back into existence. Since then, Tony had decided to make the most of it. When he wasn’t torturing poor heroes with petty pranks, he haunted laboratories and research halls.

Stephen enjoyed his own lecture halls and medical facilities. No reason to let death stop him from learning. 

Neither of them knew why they couldn’t leave this plane of existence for any significant amount of time. Their best guess was that they’d been cursed at some point in their rather eventful lives, even if Wong had—back when he’d been alive and able to help—been unable to find any latent curses on their souls.

“Anyway,” Tony said. “Gamma Girl doesn’t believe in ghosts.” In the last 110 years, belief in ghosts had actually become less prevalent, so that was understandable. “I want to see how long it takes before she gives in.” Tony’s smile turned gleeful at the idea of causing chaos. “My love of science remains undimmed, but I do love making my fellow scientists gnash their teeth when science fails them and they are forced to accept that there is more to this world than science can explain.” Tony frowned, nose wrinkling. “Yet. Someday one of them will figure it out. Really, I’m helping future scientists find a way to prove the existence of ghosts.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Still going to get us banished. You hate it when your soul itches for a good month once we’re pulled back in.” Stephen grimaced. “I know I hate it.”

“No one is making you stick around to get banished with me,” Tony pointed out.

Stephen sighed in exaggeration. “Unfortunately, when I married you, I didn’t think to end my vows at death.” Not that any vows of ‘to death’ would have stopped him from staying with Tony.

That made Tony smile a little. “Oh, right, you promised until the end of our existence.” He left the couch he was using metaphysical power to move to approach Stephen, walking through two chairs and a lamp—making it flicker—to kiss Stephen. Bonus to both of them being ghosts, ‘physical’ interaction, or something like it, was still possible. “Guess you’re going to spend the rest of forever getting banished every few months.”

“I suppose I am,” Stephen sighed, then gave in—he always did. “If we’re going to move the furniture, we should also rearrange the books on the bookshelves. For maximum chaos.”

[jaythesaltybastard]

[airas-story]

tony has to help Stephen in and out of the bathtub as he is injured and magically exhausted, Wong is away and the cloak is in a huff. (Or secretly matchmaking). Tony of course agrees to help, but he's a little uncomfortable/embarrassed as he has a massive crush on Stephen. Stephen notices.

Keep this clinical, Tony told himself as he helped Stephen into the bathtub, keeping his gaze directed in appropriate directions and not ogling Stephen the way he wanted to. He’d already caught one quick glance of Stephen’s toned abs and had felt like a terrible person at admiring them even with the starts of bruises. That was just plain rude.

Stephen let out a low moan of pain. “Remind me the next time I fight dragons that I need to pay more attention to what their tails are doing.”

The reminder made Tony wince. He hadn’t been involved in the fight, but he had caught sight of it on some recordings before it’d made it into the mirror dimension and Stephen’d taken a pretty hard hit.

“I’m not sure if your life is amazing or terrifying,” Tony said as he helped Stephen settle against the back of the tub, double checking that the water temperature was still good. “That that’s a sentence that both makes sense and is a reminder that you might need,” he said. “I always thought dragons brilliant. Shame they literally tried to burn down a village. How stereotypical. I’m disappointed.”

Stephen laughed, the sound cutting short and a hand coming to his ribs. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Tony snorted. “I suspect it’s more that you’re exhausted than I’m funny,” he said. “Right now, at least.” He let his gaze dart down to check on Stephen again, keeping the gaze quick and as clinical as he could, immediately looking away when he determined Stephen was settled okay.

“Probably,” Stephen agreed. “I might fall asleep here in the tub.” He yawned in emphasis. “You better stay so I don’t drown,” Stephen added.

Tony’s face went hot and he hoped Stephen didn’t notice the flush that was sure to be there. This is clinical, Tony reminded himself. “Well, if it’s to keep you from drowning,” Tony agreed, wondering what he’d done in a past life to earn this torture, sitting right next to a wet and naked Stephen in a situation where it would be entirely inappropriate to actually look his fill. Not that Tony wasn’t occasionally inappropriate, but this felt like one of those lines he didn’t want to cross.

“Help me soap up?” Stephen asked after a few minutes of lazing. “I don’t want to try with my ribs as they are.”

Oh god. Now Tony had to touch Stephen everywhere.

This is clinical, he reminded himself a third time. “Of course,” he agreed, reaching for the soap.

He did his best to keep to that clinical mode of helping when he caught a glint of mischievous amusement in Stephen’s eyes.

Tony arched an eyebrow. “What?”

“Oh,” Stephen said. “Just wondering how deeply you’ll blush when you help me get out and towel off.”

Oh god. “You knew what you were doing?” he asked. Then paused, because… “And don’t mind?”

Stephen smirked. “Oh, I’m looking forward to a reenactment when I haven’t been slammed into a tree by a dragon.”

So maybe this wasn’t quite as clinical as Tony had thought.

[cloudyaang]

imagine lancelot gushing about merlin to percival after they meet, so much so that percival knows more about this ‘kind and brave’ merlin than he does about lancelot, so percival assumes that merlin is lancelot’s lover. then lancelot is discussing his concerns about this new friend gwaine that merlin made and percival comments that lancelot sounds like a jealous lover. lancelot’s brain short-circuits cause jealousy is such an unbecoming feeling and what right does he have to be jealous over merlin? but it makes lancelot realise that his affection for merlin runs far deeper than he thought it did.

[gehalge]

[alive2mila6]

Lancelot is down bad <33333

[gehalge]

E. Horne and J. Comeau

[itsagentromanoff]

Steve: [worried about Tony] Oh, my God. What if she's using AI on him?

Thor: AI? You mean "as if"?

Steve: Yes, totally, as if!

Clint: Wow. You two are making me feel smart.

[fan-a-tink]

the way Arthur makes lurking & leaning out of doorways his thing in this one episode will never not be funny ✨

Arthur (& Merlin) | 3.07 "The Castle of Fyrien"

[airas-story]

Nebraska Stephen comes out and Tony is all surprised because he's only ever seen posh New York Stephen

“There’s a decent steakhouse,” Tony said, perusing the list of different restaurant menus. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a good steak.”

“Absolutely not,” Stephen said immediately, note of almost derision in his voice.

Tony looked up, a little surprised. “You have a sudden aversion to meat?” he asked. Stephen really liked Tony’s chicken alfredo, but maybe it was a red meat thing? But no, Stephen participated in Tony’s burger obsession with mild amusement.

Stephen’s nose wrinkled. “I have an aversion to paying exorbitant fees for a product or service that I can do better myself. It’s the same reason you refuse to go to anywhere but the best Italian places, because anything less than perfection and you can do better yourself. Unfortunately for the steakhouses of New York, even their best are no match for my skill with steak.”

Tony parsed through that. “I call bullshit,” Tony said. “You told me you survived off microwave dinners and takeout in med school. And I’ve seen your eating habits now. Sure, you eat healthy, but you’re not taking the time out to learn how to grill steaks.”

Stephens scoffed. “Tony, I could grill the perfect steak by the time I was thirteen. I only ever got better.”

That was a tougher one to disprove. People did learn how to cook growing up, but Tony just couldn’t buy it. “Seriously?” he asked. “You were grilling steaks at thirteen?”

Stephen gave him a condescending look. “Tony, I’m from Nebraska.” He said the words as though it was the only explanation he needed. “Omaha is considered the steak capital of the United States. Add on to that, flank steak used to be sold at absolute bargain prices.” He gave a sniff of absolute superiority. “I could grill a steak that would have you salivating and begging for more, Tony.”

Well then. Tony slid the menus to the side. “Fine. We’ll do pizza tonight… but next week, you’re grilling me this ‘perfect’ steak and we’ll see if you’re as good as you claim to be.”

Stephen leaned in, smirking. “Oh, Tony, I really think you would learn to stop challenging me in things like this. I am always just as good as I think I am.”

Yeah, Tony had noticed. Why did Stephen think Tony kept doing it?

Because honestly? It always worked out amazingly well for Tony.