#> f2f

[hulkout-archived]

closed starter for @masterofmagnetism​

The address pinged to his shitty phone brought Bruce to the front doors of a hotel, where the woman at the front desk stared openly at Bruce’s haphazard appearance with clear disgust. Bruce couldn’t blame her, considering his condition, and nodded with a hearty, “Just got back from a huntin’ trip,” by way of explanation. That seemed to appease her somewhat because she gave him directions toward Erik’s room with a sheepish smile, and Bruce tipped his cap to her, his curls spilling out of the sides.

His beard was definitely longer than he usually kept it, and Bruce couldn’t help be feel somewhat self-conscious as he scratched at it in the elevator. Xavier had a smooth face, last Bruce checked, and it irked Bruce that he thought about that at all.

Erik wasn’t his...anything, and Bruce certainly wasn’t Erik’s anything. There was no competition to a man like Charles Xavier when it came to a man like Erik Lehnsherr. He’d heard the stories, from the public and from Erik himself on their roadtrip, though those were few and far between. Bruce imagined it was because it hurt, reliving it all.

Bruce knew how badly memories could hurt, especially the good ones.

With a deep breath, standing idly in front of Erik’s hotel room, Bruce finally got the guts to tap on the door, the same pattern that they had used while on the road. It warmed something in him, despite his nerves.

When the door opened, Bruce couldn’t have helped the catch of breath, even if he had wanted to.

“Hi,” He said quietly, backpack suddenly heavy as lead on his shoulders.

[hulkout-archived]

Send a 🎧 and I will put my music on shuffle, then write a starter based on a lyric from the first song that plays // @mistressxfmagnetism​

song: whose side are you on // tommee profitt lyric: there’s two sides to every story - whose side are you on? 

The island was just as intimidating as Bruce remembered it to be. Under the beauty and peace that Genosha stood for, there was the underlying message: that such an asylum was needed in New York. That there was still a war on mutants slithering beneath the surface of the city.

Being dropped off at the very same place as the first time, Bruce watched the ferry go with some intimidation. While he was supposedly welcomed here, first by Erik, then by his daughter, Lorna, it still seemed like somehow he - he hadn’t earned it? That whatever he’d contributed to humanity hadn’t been anything good, and certainly hadn’t been influential in a positive way for mutant lives.

Swallowing thickly, Bruce adjusted his tie, tightening it too-tight as always, and then loosening it again out of habit. There was no need to be nervous, he thought somewhat rationally, after all, it was not his first time on the island. It’s serene environment did very little to calm his nerves when Lorna waited for him none-too-far away. 

When the shock of green hair came into view, Bruce tried to breathe deeply and appear calm, not wanting to scare the girl off completely. The urge to make a good impression was engraved deeply inside of Bruce; Lorna was important to Erik, Erik was important to Bruce - it seemed like the logical next step for them to officially meet on terms other than on a battlefield or half-assed texts.

“Lorna,” He greeted politely, slowly holding out a hand. Some people were hesitant to touch someone like Bruce - someone who could crush, destroy, bruise beneath his unknown strength. With the Hulk lurking beneath the surface, the city’s repairs an obvious sign of the true repercussions of what he could do, Bruce couldn’t blame them. “Bruce Banner. Officially.” Avenger. Someone infiltrating the space your people have claimed as a safe haven. What would his team think if they knew he was spending so much time with X-Men? With the metaphorical enemy?

With an awkward smile, Bruce used his other hand to push curls out of his face, slightly overgrown for lack of a proper haircut since he left for Wyoming some months earlier. “Thank you for the invite. I’d forgotten how beautiful she is,” Hazel eyes flickered to the scenery before them, built by Erik’s hands, by his sacrifices, “Genosha, I mean.”

[hulkout-archived]

Send a 🎧 and I will put my music on shuffle, then write a starter based on a lyric from the first song that plays // “I Will Buy You a New Life” by Everclear.

Lyric: Can you believe he actually thinks I’m really alive?

closed starter for @risethedemxn​

Many things were different now that Bruce was back in New York. Well, not many. Really, it was only one thing that had changed between Bruce’s initial leave during the blackout and now, late-summer-turned-early-fall: his perspective. Being a man of science had its ups and downs, in the grand scheme of things, Bruce thought he was almost at a disadvantage, knowing what he knew.

There would rarely be surprises (only breakthroughs), there would be very little amazement that did not stem from finding the right algorithms or sequences, and it also meant that imagination was pulled pretty thin from misuse in most cases. In this particular instance, Bruce thought as he stepped through the doorway of the library with an overcome sigh, he would never quite understand magic. Or, the concept of magic.

Because really, Bruce persisted mentally, arguing with himself despite being the one with the opinion he vehemently defended, magic was a concept. A ritualistic suspension of disbelief brought on by flashy show and misdirection, one that Bruce would find entertaining (or, maybe he would if he wasn’t so busy picking it apart for flaws as he watched someone perform it) but ultimately be completely incomprehensible to him on a deeper level.

Bruce wanted to say that Tony, a fellow science-man (the nerdy successor of a lady killer), would agree wholeheartedly with his mental essay on the whole thing and tell Bruce to just stop thinking so hard about everything and have a glass of scotch, but since things with Zatana had...escalated to its current degree, Bruce wanted to - well, he wanted to be supportive, even if he didn’t believe or understand beyond the scientific calculations of it all.

Seeing a figure that roughly looked to be someone of intelligence, and probably bathed regularly, Bruce put on his metaphorical big boy pants (with the elastic Hulk-resistant lining) to approach the man, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

“This may sound incredibly redundant, considering where we are,” Large, blunt fingers pointed toward a small sign near the front door of the library, “But I... may need help finding some books on magic? I mean,” Shaking his head, Bruce took another stab at it, thankful the guy looked normal enough, and not like Bruce was the biggest pest he’d ever met, “Specifically books about the more science-y side of magic? Calculations? Numbers? A graph, if we’re feeling frisky.” A pause, and an under the breath, “Sorry.”

[hulkout-archived]

closed starter for @avengerofiron​​

How many times had they done this dance already? How many more times would they do it? You wouldn’t have to keep doing it if you stopped being a coward, Banner. Unhelpfully, Bruce shrugged, tiptoeing the distance to the tower, nervously squeezing the straps of his backpack as the front door became ever closer.

It always felt like a teenager coming home after they’d ‘run away’ for a day or two before realizing they missed where they belonged too much to stay gone. It always felt like maybe this reunion would be the last and he wouldn’t have to feel like all he ever did was disappoint his best friend - no, his family.

It always felt like Bruce would crawl back with ragged hands and knees, looking up under the brim of his hat with that pathetic sadness on his face that he seemed to carry everywhere with him; more of an accessory than the backpack he currently lugged over his shoulder could ever be. Bruce did as he always would and gingerly pressed a hand to the scanner, opening coffee colored eyes to be scanned as well. With nothing more than a soft, “Welcome Home, Doctor Banner,” FRIDAY allowed him entrance, the dark room becoming dim as the AI lit up the space in a soft glow of light along the walls. 

Like walking a well-worn path, Bruce found himself in the labs, staring at the desk (blissfully empty) he typically occupied with a fairly wistful expression. How easy it was to say goodbye when he didn’t have to physically see the space he resided in; when Bruce didn’t have to watch what he was saying goodbye to as he walked away.

Pulling out the cracked screen of the burner phone he’d picked up back in Wyoming, Bruce snapped a picture of a freshly brewed cup of herbal tea (thank you, FRIDAY) settled gently atop the built-in warmer on his desk, courtesy of one Tony Stark. He quickly composed a text to a number he knew as well as Euclid’s Algorithm, and sent the picture off with a soft swish.

Now, there was nothing more that he could do but wait.

[hulkout-archived]

closed starter for @sovietavenger​

The small, black keychain on Bruce’s backpack blinked with an eerie glow, the light’s movement increasing as the summoned person’s distance closed in on him. Adjusting his baseball cap, curls falling snugly onto his forehead, Bruce leaned back against the mouth of the alley, hidden by New York’s shadows. The evening lights were vibrant and neon by the bus stations, but Bruce was fairly good at avoiding well-lit areas.

With a conspiratorial beep and a final flash, the keychain finally died off, returning to its natural state. Looking up under the brim of his hat, Bruce caught sight of a familiar flash of red, and couldn’t help the small smile that edged its way onto his face. “Thanks for coming.”

Bruce hoped that Natasha would ignore the obvious dampness of his skin, the humidity in his curls, or the lack of baggage he currently carried, but they both knew that wasn’t really something that Nat could not observe. “I know it’s late, but I wanted to check in as soon as I got back in,” Wringing his hands together, Bruce took a cautious step toward Nat, eyes questioning. 

“Well, uh,” A thick swallow and a click of his throat, “How are you?”

[deadjacuzziarchived]

one word prompt / beautiful / @burdenedxtelepath​

There was wonder, in power - in freedom. A place born of unprecedented times, led solely by the desire for those in oppression to be given the rights they deserved. Wade hadn’t really thought of the fact that he was a mutant, before. Not that it really mattered - even has a mutant, he was less oppressed than most. Hell, he’d grown up a white guy in New York City. How hard could his life actually have been?

But now, sitting on the island, legs dangling over the side of the stone wall, one Charles Xavier beside him, peacefully watching the waves ease and press over, and over - it was easy to forget that something so tragic had happened to so many.

Wade wasn’t a permanent resident of Genosha. Didn’t really need to be, honestly. Even with a mutant uprising, Wade’s life hadn’t really...changed. He was still living in the same, dumpy apartment with roaches and a mattress without a box spring. Still buying cheap Mexican food from the cart down the road that he got food poisoning from more often than not. Still going to the same shitty bars, pining over the same lanky Spider-Man, and still thinking about where the hell he was going to end up the further he went down the ‘hero’ road.

There was peace between them, he and Charles. Both staring silently out into the water. Wade slowly turned, expression serious for a moment, “This place is so beautiful. It would be a shame if someone were to ruin the atmosphere by telling you I’ve really gotta burp. Been holding it in for like, 20 minutes now.” 

[deadjacuzziarchived]

one word prompts // foolish // @rxdqueens​​

Wade’s fingers curled around the handle of his sword, poking his head from behind the corner he’d hid himself behind. A woman. A pretty woman. Wade blinked behind his mask.

“Hey! Hey you!” Flipping the sword around wildly, Wade nearly tripped and fell on the blade himself, yelping like a scorned dog. “Oh shit -- nngh. Okay, oof -- hold on!” Picking himself up, Wade did a half-hearted twirl, cocking his head in confusion when he took the woman in clearly for the first time. “Do I... know you? I feel like I would have remembered all of...that.” 

Wade waved the katana the length of her body.

[deadjacuzziarchived]

@ptrparkcrs​ + one word prompt / bear

It’s raining when Wade makes it to Peter’s house. Things between them had settled a bit, since his disastrous misstep at the lake (where he tried to kiss Peter, got rejected, and things were super duper awkward there for a minute). He hadn’t asked Peter to hang out since then - without masks, without barriers, because... well, it was hard seeing his Petey-Pie’s face, knowing he would never get to actually kiss it.

But being Peter’s friend was good too! Just as good, actually. He would take any scraps from Peter that the man would afford him. It made Wade smile, that the young hero wanted him to be good. Or at least better.

By the time he made it to Peter’s apartment, a miracle that he was there instead of at MJ’s place, Wade was feeling a little nervous to give Peter his ‘sorry I almost fucked up our friendship, but I’m glad we’re getting back to normal’ gift. A medium sized teddy bear, made of overly-soft plush, shoved into the pocket of his hello kitty backpack. He knew the man was sensory-driven too (had to be with super-human ((spider?)) sensibilities), which made Wade want to...

Want to spoil him? Give him things to make him happy? Ugh.

Tapping on the man’s bedroom window, Wade waited patiently, drawing a dick wearing a little sombrero in the steam. “Peeeeteeeeeey.”