#technobow

just made a new evolution of techno

introducing technobow 

(he has monika’s hair from doki doki lit. club)

Idea credit from @imnotentirelycertain

Art credit: @sketchlux-art (me)

Person: who do you ship Tony with?

Me: uhhh... well,,, do you happen to have 4 hours to spare?

Person: arent 4 hours too mu-

Harper Ferguson

Female, Scottish Decent

Angela’s Friend

[why not both?]

Bruce had never really known what to expect next out of life.

He’d had plans, sure. Lots of plans along the way. Plans when he was young to save his mom. Plans when he was a little less young to just escape. Plans run. Plans to hide. Then, plans to build a life. Plans to learn new things. Plans to discover and build and explore. Plans to marry the sweetest woman on the planet.

Then, plans to run again. And run, and run, and run. 

He’d never planned to get caught in a web so fine that most days he hardly noticed it. He never planned for Tony.

Of course Tony would be the first. Tony was all loose limbs and tightly controlled mania. He was a finely tuned, careless machine that seemed honed to break past all of Bruce’s defenses. He was all touches and smirks and waggling eyebrows and when he asked Bruce to come to bed with him Bruce was so surprised he could only ask, “What about Pepper?”

“Yeah, no worries. We’re supposed to ask first. Hey JARVIS can you get Pep on the line? Bruce wants to–”

“Wait!” Bruce raised his hands. “Wait, Tony, wait. Let me think about this.”

So he thought, had a nice lunch with Pepper in which she consoled him for being captured in Tony’s web of crazy, and then said, “I’m stupid for agreeing but, fine.”

Tony’s grin had been brighter than the arc reactor.

When Tony got too tangled up in metal, forgetting to eat and sleep for days, waving off his bots who tried to get him to take care of himself, Pepper would come for him. She’d cajole and roll her eyes and drag him upstairs and Bruce would wave them away. He wanted to let them have their own time, and so he stayed in the lab, buried in a web of metal all his own.

And Tony would return and they would pick up their strange romance. As far as hectic scrapes of metal and explosions and grease could be called a romance. 

Bruce had left the lab precisely once in four months, and it was Clint who pointed it out.

“You know, this is the first time I’ve seen your face since Loki,” Hawkeye said, smiling softly behind his mask.

Bruce blinked up at him from where he’d just woken up. The floor of the Quinjet today, but at least someone had shoved a pillow under his head and covered him with a blanket. He tugged the blanket to his chin, chilly. “Huhh?” Bruce managed to ask.

“You’re never around,” Clint explained as he sat down beside Bruce. Bruce turned and squinted up at him. “Even on Steve’s movie nights. Pepper always makes Tony go, but you don’t. Not a movie fan?”

“Movies are fine,” Bruce said, although he hadn’t seen a movie all the way through in over a decade. He pulled the pillow down to his chest and curled around it. “Just…I spend a lot of time with Tony. Sometimes we need our space.”

“Mm,” Clint hummed. He glanced towards the front of the ‘jet and Bruce looked as well. He could see Tony up there, rocking out to some kind of rock and roll that was barely audible through his helmet. It must have been deafening with the faceplate down. “Well, we should hang out more.”

“What?” Bruce tried to remember the last time someone had asked to hang out with him. He was coming up empty.

“Y’know, it’s possible to see people not in a group. We should catch a movie. What d’you like? Horror? Comedy? Action?”

Bruce tried to remember the last movie he’d seen. He remembered liking it, but that was probably because Betty had rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m not sure,” he said.

“We’ll figure it out.” Clint reached out to pat him on the shoulder. Bruce could tell it was only meant to be a quick pat–a reassuring, I’m here for you buddy, kind of thing–but Tony chose that moment to turn around.

The faceplate flipped up and they were momentarily inundated with Don’t Stop Me Now so loud that Bruce winced. Tony grinned and the volume dimmed. “Hey, Big Guy! You up?”

“Yeah,” Bruce said. He curled a little tighter around his pillow and felt Clint squeeze his shoulder in support. Oh. Still holding on, then. “How was the battle?”

“You were great,” Tony said, swaggering out of his seat and then out of his suit. It stood there like an empty shell as Tony sat cross-legged beside them. “Caught Barteroni here right out of the sky.”

“Really?” Bruce looked up at Clint, and Clint smiled down. Bruce suddenly felt small, lying there on the floor. But he didn’t sit up. It wasn’t the bad sort of feeling small.

“Yeah,” Clint said. “I owe you one.”

“You can buy me popcorn,” Bruce decided. He closed his eyes as Clint squeezed his shoulder again, listening to Tony laugh at his bad joke.

“You spend too much time in the lab,” Tony told him one day, slipping it in between long paragraphs of chatter. His face was completely hidden by his welding goggles, and it creeped Bruce out to stare at his reflection in the mirrored lenses.

“I’m here as much as you.”

“No, you’re definitely here more.” Tony tipped his head in a way that implied he was frowning. “Is that because–”

“It’s because I like to spend time with you,” Bruce blurted out, desperate not to let Tony get off on a tangent. He couldn’t look at his own reflection anymore, and so he turned back to his work. “But sometimes I need to just spend time with myself as well.”

He heard Tony shuffling–setting aside the welding mask?–and then felt a gentle hand on his arm. “Hey,” Tony said, in the not quite sure what I’m doing way he always said things. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“You’re fine.” Bruce turned and kissed him on the lips, reassuring. “It’s just me.”

Clint could skip a rock across the lake. Like, all the way across until Bruce couldn’t see it anymore, but he was certain it was still jumping. Bruce couldn’t skip a rock to save his life, but he could hunt some down for Clint. Flat, smooth stones that made Clint grin and look at him with bright eyes that made Bruce’s heart skip a beat.

Once a week, Clint insisted that Bruce leave the lab. Bruce was pretty sure Tony had roped him in to keeping his promise to take Bruce out, but he wasn’t going to say anything. He was too selfish, too desperate for human contact. 

It was a cool spring day and so they sat close under the tree after, quiet. And when Clint leaned in to brush their shoulders, reached out to touch the tips of their fingers together, Bruce didn’t stop him.

Instead, he turned and kissed him, right there under the rustling leaves. He was stunned when Clint kissed back.

“I have to tell you,” Bruce said, breathing heavy and pushing Clint’s hands away because dammit, dammit. He was an idiot for letting it get this far. “Tony and I are sort of involved.”

“What? I know that.” Clint looked confused, eyes all black with arousal, lips pressed pink from harried kisses. “I mean, what’s the protocol here? Am I supposed to ask him first if it’s okay?”

Bruce though back to his lunch with Pepper and said, “Probably? I’m not–I, I don’t know. But I meant, I can’t be what you need.” He tried to slide away but Clint caught his hand and held him fast. 

“Bruce, what I need isn’t important. You’re exactly what I want.”

Bruce held his breath and let it out, a long, slow, sigh. Then he laughed, his own self-hatred bubbling to the surface for one split second. “I can’t lose him or you,” he begged. “But I can’t be just yours. I-I don’t know how this works.”

“I don’t think anyone does,” Clint assured him. He was smiling softly as he leaned in to nose along Bruce’s neck. Bruce shivered, and not because of the cool air. “Look. I know I’m not your only, but at least I can be one, right?” He tipped his head to one side, gazing up at Bruce.

Bruce couldn’t help himself. Maybe, he thought, he was more selfish than he’d realized. “I, okay. Right.” 

Clint grinned and leaned in, kissing him. Soft, gentle. For a second Bruce could only think how differently Clint kissed than Tony. Tony was hard, probing, demanding. Clint was anything but demanding. He just asked. But then the thoughts slipped away and Bruce only noticed the warmth of Clint’s mouth and his lightly calloused hand resting on Bruce’s face.

“Thank you,” Clint said against his lips. He dropped one more kiss and pulled away, cheeks stained rosy pink. “We should maybe quit, then. Until I can talk to Tony.”

“Right,” Bruce said. He lasted, by his estimate, six thousand years (or maybe it was only six seconds) before he said, “Well, maybe we could call him right now.”

Clint grinned. “You got it, Doc.” There were leaves in his hair when he made the call. Bruce picked them out as he and Tony teased one another.