#BEYOND THE MULTIVERSE BRAIN I COOKED YEARS WORTH!!!!!!!!!!!

[punkeropercyjackson]

If i had a nickel for every time a 2000s anime character was a teenage anarchist of color who's mom was killed in front of them by a villain who wouldn't be revealed until the last part of the series and it changed their entire brain chemistry due to how brutal the trauma was so they coped by acting tough and invulnerable but openly kind because of their strong sense of justice they're always talking about and taking direct action in,took on the parental role for their sibling(s)and learned to let themselves be cared for and protected back and act like the kid they are as major character development,had autistic swag and big bi trans energy,tried to act like the sane one but are just as unhinged as the rest of their friend group,are op as fuck but in a way that works for them specifically and was cosmic soulmates by choice with a super bubbly and optimistic pastel person who's basically god and openly down horrendous for them and that they're more protective and soft to than they are anyone else because they're their biggest signal of hope and greatest friend they've ever had in addition to being perfect for them romantically,i'd have TWO nickels.Which isn't a lot but it's pretty weird it happened twice,right?

[dragonnan]

Untitled Endgame Reboot - WIP

Because aside from being heartbreaking, Endgame had flaws that whole solar systems could fall through.  I’m by no means perfect in my writing; but I hope the journey I’m offering helps those of us left clinging to ash when we should have been celebrating.  

❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ 

He didn't know how he'd dragged himself away from the cracked and blackened earth.  Everything smelled like ash and blood overlaid by the cold metal stink of ozone.  Familiar, at least.  There were days, crawling from his suit, where that was all he could smell for hours.

Everything around him was so still. Had they really just been fighting the greatest battle in the history of existence?  Now it just looked like the fallout from Ren Fest.  At least, this time, they didn't have to deal with giant dead space dragons rotting on his lawn.  One snap and everything cleans up like a song.  Handy trick, that gauntlet.  Could turn anyone into Mary Poppins.  Too bad the side effect was so...

Tony blinked hard but the dark edging into his vision didn't ease.

It was over; they'd won.  Over and over repeating in his head.  They'd won.  They'd done it, they'd won. Even in pain; where nerve endings were still alive and screaming – screaming...  Whatever the cost to him it was worth it.  He'd pay any cost to himself.  He'd pay his life; had been for nearly a decade.  Ever since New York.  

Funny; that didn't scare him, now.  New York.  He wondered, anymore, what possibly could.  Ding, dong, the witch was dead.  It had only cost... everything...

Worth it...

Right, people were talking to him.  In theory.  He wasn't certain as he couldn't hear a thing.  Or... maybe they couldn't speak.  He was still trying to work that out when Peter...  The kid was sobbing.  Tony wanted to hug him again.  He hadn't wanted to let go in the first place.  Was this what letting go felt like?

Pepper.  Oh baby, I'm sorry...

She was speaking but it was muffled. Just... barely...

“...ony...”

“Tony...”

“It's going to be okay...”

He wanted to smile at her but he couldn't move his face.  Couldn't move anything.  God, he was tired...

“Hey... babe...”  That was enough to get a smile, at least.  It used to be so much harder...

“Out of the way!”  Tony couldn't turn his head but then it didn't matter as Pepper was suddenly gone – replaced by... “I need to get him out of here now!  There's no time!”

Tony managed to frown.  He thought. Hard to tell when he couldn't feel his lips.  “Wussah... point? I'm... dead.”

Strange shook his head and started waving his arm; a portal bursting alive in front of him.  “You aren't dead, yet, but you are dying.”  

Tony cringed at the quavering hands reached towards him “...don't touch...!” but contact was never made.  Rather, another complex arrangement of scarred fingers and the stone at his back was melting away; easing him into a slow recline that still opened fire in his bones and led to screaming he couldn't quite connect to himself.

“Mantis!”  Stephen's shout was another muffle of chaotic sound as Tony's hearing gave along with many of his other senses; pain, looming death; there was a grab bag of reasons to choose and they likely all played a part.  Which was why, as the cute girl with bug ears leaned over him, there was a second of panicked startle before her warm fingers rested against his temple.

“No pain...”  The soft command flowed through his brain like the ocean.  He was in his lab; leaning over a holo model of his latest prototype; something for the kid in a, likely, useless attempt to keep him in one piece.  Bruce was stopping by in a few to brainstorm on an upgrade for the Hulkbuster 3.2 but, for the moment, Tony was alone.  It was nice.  He couldn't remember when he'd been this relaxed.  In fact, his last worry had been... huh...  He couldn't remember.  But, then, he didn't care. And then Pepper was knocking on his glass with a fresh cup of coffee and he smiled.

❂

The surgery was dicey before they'd even begun; not that Stephen could offer anything beyond consulting. He could go toe to toe with the greatest threat of the multiverse but he still couldn't hold a scalpel without trembling.  Stabilizing Tony had first involved restarting his heart; something Stephen could manage in spite of his nerve damage.  There was nothing fine-tuned about violent chest compressions.  And then it became an endless repeat of getting a rhythm only to lose it; adrenalin and paddles employed before he had to perform chest compressions a second time. While this was going on, Wong had been tasked with finding Helen Cho. The last anyone knew, she'd moved back to Seoul after a year at the Avengers compound.  No idea where she was, currently.  The world in chaos and fifty percent chance she'd been one of the dead.  Stephen had had no moment for relief when Wong had returned, eight minutes after walking through the portal, with Doctor Cho rushing ahead of him.

“Is he stable?”  Scrubbing in, she held out her hands for gloves while Stephen stepped back to give her space.  Tony was stable only in the loosest sense, his vitals all at dangerous levels and already beginning to worsen again.  Seeing this for herself, Cho shook her head.  “Doesn't matter.  We can't save him.”  She looked up at Stephen.  “Not here.”

Alarms sounded through the surgical bay from the moment the leads were attached.  Kidney function, liver, all tanking.  First priority; stop the bleeding.  Tony's system had already been compromised through years of exposure to a variety of toxins; not the least of which had been the palladium poisoning.  His long history of alcohol abuse hadn't done him any favors, either. However, it was the 6.2 centimeter gash along the lower lobe of his liver that was the immediate and most pressing threat.  Heartbeat still irregular, they had just finished with the final suture when it stilled.  With the distortions to Tony's sternum and ribs, due to the arc reactor that had once filled that space, the decision was made to crack his chest.  Doctor Forrest held the organ between his small hands and began to manually massage.  

Standing to the side; grating in his uselessness, Stephen fiddled his fingers against his thighs and moved attention between Forrest's hands and the graph on the monitor. Second after second after second.  He licked his lips; vision tunneled.  Was Tony's soul, even now, breaking free from his body? Stephen had seen 14,000,605 possible futures.  But after Thanos' defeat, the outcomes had branched.  Not even the Ancient One could claim a perfect view of future events; only the possibilities. Stephen had seen a multitude of outcomes for Tony.  What happened, now, hinged on the next 13 seconds.

Time ticked down.

12

11

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

…

“We've got rhythm.  Still erratic.” The small, internal, defibrillator paddles were placed on either side of the struggling organ.  At the call of clear, a pulse was sent to the paddles.  They waited...

“Rhythm's holding steady.  Let's close and move on to the next brush fire.”

    There had been no hesitation with their next decision once his heart stopped stopping.  Amputation.  His right arm had been effectively fried; his fingers a curled and blackened claw.  If left much longer, the cooked limb would kill him just as easily as his temperamental heart.  The only question, now, was where to make the incision.  After a short debate, they settled for above the elbow; though there was some push for shoulder disarticulation.  Enough living tissue remained, however, to leave him with one functioning joint.  Just enough...

With a laser saw, the bone was cut through and the destroyed limb laid in a large tray for disposal. Arranging the remaining muscle and suturing the stump took longer than the removal itself.  Soon enough, however, it was dressed with an additional sterile stocking pulled in place to allow for drainage tubes.

And then it was on to the next disaster.

❂

14 hours and 17 minutes.  The waiting room had been overtaken by family and friends when Stephen finally shuffled from surgery; as beat as he'd ever been after a long procedure and he'd done very little, in this instance.  There was a time his ego would have balked at that.  Now, he only felt heartsick that he couldn't have been more useful.

Ms. Potts was the first to approach him; the rest of the crowd turning to face him as he stopped near the rack of magazines.

It was only Pepper, however, that he looked at as he spoke his first words since entering surgery; voce rasping and dry.

“He's alive.”