"you don't find comfort at the tva" do u get that THIS was mobius' mindset before meeting loki?? that there was no comfort to be had in his life?? that when he wanted to spare an 8 YEAR OLD BOY it wasn't the right thing to do for the system? he carried that burden, the timelines branching and people dying because of it, all the way to that conversation with loki. i would bet anything it was eons ago for him and yet, that one little moment of KINDNESS burdened him. before loki, there was no comfort. then they came along and suddenly, the tva felt like home. it felt new, it felt lively, it felt real, it felt comfortable BECAUSE loki was there. they WERE home to mobius, after all those eons of aching loneliness. i have no doubt he was kind before loki because that's just who he fundamentally is but he LET himself be kind after loki came into his life. because he felt comfortable enough. and then. loki left him. the tva felt empty again. the food and coffee mobius loved so much turned to ash in his mouth. HE felt hollow and empty. home was never a place, it was always loki. the tva suddenly felt suffocating, he HAD to leave, he had to use the opportunity loki gave him, the chance they sacrificed themselves for.
and there – watching what could've been – he felt the sunshine on his face, and something else too. someone else. it filled him with him hope hadn't felt in a very long time.
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Even though I will be making fun of Wilbur for saying “psycho competitive” for the rest of time, I do want to emphasise that what he actually said was that c!tntduo were in a “psycho competitive relationship that can be construed to be romantic but it's not explicit.”
That’s not actually shutting down a romantic interpretation of their relationship. In fact that is acknowledging the romantic undertones. What I would interpret that as - and I agree with cc!Wilbur if this is the case - is that you can certainly read c!tntduo as romantic but that that is hardly the most interesting or rich angle to analyse them from.
Personally, what makes c!tntduo so engaging to me is how they have this incredibly complicated history with each other, hate each other, love each other, and still choose over and over again, to connect. They are irrevocably entwined as self made foils for each other. They have chosen again and again to deliberately mirror each other, in action, in dialogue, in theme, despite everything they both do and don’t agree on.
For me, c!tntduo is about them being all levels of fucked up together. Persuing a serious romantic relationship would be super bad for both of them actually. They’re not healthy together. But they do need each other. They can’t escape each other now.
That’s where the appeal of the duo lies. Which, at least to me, is a far more interesting character study and exploration of what people can mean to each other than whether they kiss or not.
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batman: track and field au
author's note: i just miss track and field varsity even though i wasnt even that good... and ive been thinking about batman track and field au for FOREVER. so today i wrote a bit 📝
things u need to know: bruce is not batman. he's a coach at a school where the rest of the justice league teaches. yes, they're still the justice league. and yes, his robins still end up as vigilantes. jason is 15 in this; the joker hasn't gotten to him yet. also i added some characters ahead of the timeline bc i love them :/
Jason stumbles over from the finish line, grinning and sweat-drenched. And then his face screws up in sudden distress, and he promptly wobbles and collapses onto the hot stadium mat.
A half-formed sound of alarm—
Bruce leaps over the bleacher railing and sprints.
A poor, well-meaning race official gets there first, but Bruce shoulders him roughly aside and crouches by Jason. Jason has turned on his side, holding his right knee tight to his chest and making little pained gasps.
It tears at his heart. “Jason,” Bruce says.
Jason’s eyes are screwed shut, and he says nothing, but one of his hands reach blindly in Bruce’s direction and Bruce grasps it tightly.
“You were terrific, chum.” He squeezes, and feels the tremor that goes through his son. “Stretch your leg out for me.”
Jason shakes his head. “Hurts—”
“I know. I know. Please, Jay.”
It’s slow, and excruciating, but between the two of them they manage to get Jason sitting up, his leg extended straight against the ground. One hand of Bruce’s presses down firmly on the knee, and the other pushes his foot to flex, the metal spikes of Jason’s shoes digging hard into the callused flesh of Bruce’s palm. Jason leans back on his hands, spread flat against the ground, head tilted up to open, cloudless sky, exhaling drawn-out, shaky breaths.
The speakers blare out the next events—second call for Male C’s 400-meter hurdles, and third call for Female B’s high jump. The left side of the crowd begins clapping on beat for their star javelin thrower as she rocks back on her feet, once, twice, and begins bounding forward. Bruce makes a displeased noise. He hopes his throwers remember to pay attention.
A mosquito buzzes by Bruce’s ear and he shakes his head sharply to drive it away. The sweat has been beading at his hairline all throughout, and now it rolls torturously slow down his face. As his hands are otherwise occupied, he makes no move to wipe it, and does his best to ignore the unpleasant sensation.
At last, Jason’s breathing evens out. He tugs his leg gingerly away from Bruce’s hold, cheeks flushed with exertion and, doubtless, embarrassment. “Thanks.”
Bruce sits back on his haunches and wipes the sweat off his face. “Ready to stand?”
Jason raises a hand, wincing as he tests the muscles of his leg. “One sec.”
Bruce nods shortly. Jason safe, his attention wanders over to the bleachers. Tim, thank God, is dragging Damian away from the high railing. Dick and Cass are eating lunch with much avidity—Dick’s best event, high jump, had just ended before Jason’s, and Cass seems to have just returned from shot put. Duke and Stephanie are nowhere in sight, and for a moment Bruce is alarmed, but then he spots them at the stage and relaxes. Duke must have won his high jump—he stands on the highest podium, and even from here Bruce can tell he’s grinning—and Stephanie is clicking away on the school camera next to the official photographer.
As he watches Stephanie turn the camera backward and attempt to take a selfie with Duke, there’s a tap on his thigh. Bruce extends his hand without looking and grasps the hand that interlocks with his, pulling Jason up with ease.
Bruce glances at Jason, and notes how he squints against the glaring afternoon. “Remember to reapply your sunscreen when you get back.”
Jason rolls his eyes. “Not everyone is ghost-white like you.”
“You do not have to be ghost-white to get skin cancer.”
Jason grumbles, but when Bruce raises an imperious eyebrow at him, he raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. Whatever you say, boss.”
“Good. And, Jay...” Bruce reaches out, tentative, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I meant it. You did terrific.”
Jason beams, bright enough to outshine the day, and something in Bruce’s chest uncurls into warmth.
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