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jasontoddswhitestreak · 3 years ago

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the mess you wanted

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

summary: in which natasha is attempting to adapted to a world after thanos, luckily with you by her side.

warnings: angst, set during endgame, during the five year jump, ptsd and trauma.

word count: 903

a/n: no gold rush chapter today I’m taking a break for a bit for university etc. wrote this lil fic for my beloved geli <3

masterlist

Lights flickered in the meeting room of the compound, casting an eerie atmosphere over the place. It was just after midnight, every visitor who came to the compound begging for their families to be brought back had finally left, not without hurting Natasha’s soul on the way out.

She blamed herself for failing, for not being able to keep the Avengers together,she thought back to what happened a couple years ago between the team. If only she was able to prevent her family from splitting up, maybe some of them would still be here.

It’s the same routine every day for Natasha. Wake up on the couch in the meeting room, paper’s scattered all over the tables, plans and ideas that were burned down by reality. No matter how much she wanted her family to be brought back together, it was impossible.

She didn’t want to lose hope for the sake of the people she had failed.

She’d turn on every light in the compound, only to make it a routine to turn all of them off before she fell asleep, wanting to pretend for a little while that her family were still with her.

It’s been years since Thanos had won, since Tony was brought back to Earth and left a part of his damaged heart with Steve, she hasn’t seen him in almost two years. Steve himself was a blur, he’d be seen in one place and another within the same day, incapable of sitting still. And you, well it was a struggle to keep in contact with you because other than the widow herself, you were the only person who was able to not be tracked down when you didn’t want to be found.

At first everyone did indeed keep in touch, she visited the family when Morgan was born, visiting the three of them regularly whilst Steve occasionally dropped by the Compound. Natasha had to stop herself from questioning the ex Avengers about the whereabouts of you, who disappeared right after Tony was found.

You first met whilst Nat was undercover at Stark Industries, A mission went sideways and somehow you helped the Widow out of the mess that was created. It only took a couple days before Tony discovered your abilities and welcomed you in his home with open arms, albeit you were significantly younger than the rest, only eighteen when you had your first mission, the rest of the Avengers did everything in their power to protect you.

Ever since Thanos won and Tony was presumed to be dead, you acted differently. Almost distant. Avoiding contact with anyone, keeping to yourself rather than mourning together with the rest of the Avengers, the only person you’d talk to was Natasha and even that was rare.

“Hey моя любовь, done anything interesting lately?” Natasha questions as they finally meet up almost a year after she had seen you last.

You were wearing what seemed to be one of Sam’s old beaten up zip up sweaters from when the entire team used to live at the compound. You struggled in response, hands reaching up to fiddle with the string on the sweater, it was noticeable to the rest of the Avengers that you became less and less talkative as the years went past.

“Oh, sweet Angel.” Natasha whispered sympathetically, wanting nothing more to wrap you in her arms and never let go. All she wanted to do was to protect you, to make sure you'd never be afraid, she reached out and interlaced your fingers together, attempting to give some sort of comfort..

“It’s just-” You began, struggling to put thoughts into words, you wanted to tell Natasha everything that happened but couldn’t, you couldn’t find the right words to describe anything. How can you describe knowing the person they considered a brother is now gone? How can you recover from the pain of wondering whether the closest thing you had to a father was a floating corpse in space for a whole month before he was miraculously brought back to them.

Old Classmates? Gone. Majority of your friends? Either distant now due to blaming the Avengers for their families death or they're dead themselves. It’s hard to talk to someone and put these overwhelming feelings into words, whether they’re going to the same thing or not.

“Hey hey, it’s okay, take your time. I’m here for you, you know that right?” Natasha reassured, a laugh escaping her as you began to make comments about the new hairstyle in an attempt to change the subject.

“I really like it, you know.” You confessed, causing a grin to break out on Natasha’s face, you were grateful for the subject change, wanting nothing more but to forget the horrible things that occurred in the last few years.

“Well I’ll make sure to keep it like this, just for you моя любовь.”

Natasha vowed then and there that she’d do anything in her power to keep you safe and to bring your family back to you, she’d do anything to see the happiness you once had while you were surrounded with them, she’d tear herself up and destroy herself just for a chance of your happiness.

She knew how far she’d go for your happiness, and those same thoughts echoed in her mind as she cut the line that held her in between life and death, choosing the latter just for you.

all works: @yelenabelovasgf @amourtentiaa @husherstan @peggycarter-steverogers @drpepperobsessed @ghost-bich @whosedevil @meg-nyt @freddiecore @missusstark @hehehehannahthings @tandefeaffe @rafecameronswhore @secretsthathauntus @idontwannabetherightwayround @crymanny @beliza-styles28

natasha taglist: @halobaby @iamninaannaisreading @sapphicallyartistically @angelicl-y @blackxwidowsxwife @severepeanutartisanhands @madamevirgo @starsvck @umsolikeblog @baddecisions-png @yourmcu @measure-in-pain @emilyprentisslittlewhore

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fireheartpages · 3 years ago

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i. per aspera | m.m.

series masterlist

summary: Being hounded by government agencies was low on your list of priorities, until they make it more than just a minor inconvenience on your way back to finding normalcy short of your best friend and boyfriend. So, you find yourself stumbling into a small firm, recovering from the Blip like everyone else, and make an unexpected connection with someone who understands your grief--and your abilities--on a level that you could have never expected.

playlist: permit the righteous to be moved | m.m.

word count: 5.3k

rating: 18+, sfw, reader uses she/her pronouns and is semi-catholic for plot/angst/symbolism purposes (but more on that later), past steve x reader, reader is a mutant, warning for some mentions of violence and death, heavy tony stark slander, spoilers for daredevil season two, defenders

a/n: sO--first things first, this series will have eventual daredevil/defenders spoilers, as well as nwh spoilers!! the chapter title is half of the quote “per aspera, as astra.” the series title “permit the righteous to be moved” comes from a bible verse, Psalm 55:22, which says “Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved.” it's a verse that's meant to encourage you to make it through a tough time, out of context though... *laughs in mean author* this is a little thing that's been floating around my head since I saw nwh, and i've been itching to get it flushed out ever since. it's mostly going to follow the phase four canon on the coattails of Nelson, Murdock, and Page, the only canon deviance is that instead of returning to the 40s (like an idiot), steve was killed by thanos in the final battle in endgame (but more on that later!) reader is young and grieving and traumatized and her only friend is an equally traumatized amputee, but then she stumbles into the devil and all his friends ;)

November 2023

You were a good person. You swore.

But some people, some people test you. Some people, of course, being Tony Stark. Even from beyond the grave, the asshat still found ways to make your life miserable.

You lost people. More people than just Tony Stark, but the rest of the world seems to forget that. You watched your boyfriend of six years be murdered by a genocidal space grape jolly rancher. You never got to say goodbye to your best friend before she flung herself off a cliff because she thought self-sacrifice is the only way to save the greater good (Nat might have been right in this case, but that doesn’t mean you’re happy about it). Tony got a private and a public funeral. Steve got a few seconds of silence on the news and Nat was barely acknowledged. Real fair, you thought.

But as if your grief over losing two of the most important people in your life wasn’t enough, everyone being returned from the Blip meant government agents were sniffing up your ass, looking to press five-, six-, seven-year-old charges from the time you were dragged on the run at eighteen years old. You spent the five years of the Blip helping rebuild the entire world, but even that’s not enough for a pardon.

And back to Tony ever-so-helpful Stark, his will didn’t exactly leave his legal team at the disposal of someone he talked to maybe three times in the last five years, so you were on your own. He’d given you and Steve the help he could during the first year of the Blip, when you’d publicly resurfaced after two years on the run, but eventually, charges were dropped without trial, and everyone seemed to forget. That was probably due to the fact that a lot of the people pressing charges against you were presumed dead, while the rest dropped what they had because, you know, half of the world disappeared.

But now, here you stood, about eight charges against you that could probably get you a lifetime in jail, (kinda) widowed, lonely, and lacking any sort of legal representation.

You’d known about Nelson and Murdock (now Nelson, Murdock, and Page) before the Blip, notable from the Punisher trail, and Foggy Nelson’s run for DA, back when you paid attention to the news a little more than a seventeen-year-old should have. They were ground-level, pro bono half the time, and had a reputation for reliability. Even though they had a bit of a reputation for ending up in the spotlight, you hoped choosing them would result in discretion. You didn’t need more eyes on you right now.

You stood outside the door, steeling your nerves to walk in and explain your side of a situation they probably knew very well from the opposition. Your mind buzzed as your enhanced abilities scouted out who was on the other side. Three people, one… one enhanced? You could tell someone had heightened senses and that one of those senses was not sight.

Weird, you thought. Maybe they’ll take pity on me.

You knocked on the door as you opened it, peeking your head in with a tentative smile.

A man stood behind a desk in the center of the room, loose blonde hair hanging into his eyes and a smile that told you he was far too good at keeping a secret. “Hi!” He extended a hand to you as you let the door shut behind you. “Foggy Nelson. How can we help you?”

You introduced yourself with the warmest smile you could muster, hoping that shaking his hand hid the nervous tremor that sunk into your body.

At your name, his facade dropped, eyebrows raising and mouth going agape. “Wait. The Avenger?”

You have a curt laugh. “Not really an Avenger anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Foggy said. “I can only imagine.”

He walked back around the desk to the opposite side, motioning for you to sit. “I feel like I could guess why you’re here.”

“You and half the population.” You took a seat, sensing his steady heartbeat and letting it ground you.

“I’ve heard a lot about your case through the grapevine. You’ve got every charge they can pin on you right now, most of which I think are complete bullshit. Sorry for the language.”

Steve would have loved this guy.

“Yeah, not ideal,” you said, easing into your skin. The fact that he was on your side without you having to plead your case and beg for representation sunk into you with tremendous relief. “Especially when your one connection to legal representation is dead. Tony Stark wasn’t my favorite person in the world, but his loyalty was admirable.”

Foggy’s expression changed into something of genuine sympathy, and you could feel the truth behind his words when he said, “I can’t imagine what it must have been like to lose so much of your team, just to lose more for good in the long run.”

You took a shaky breath, his statement hitting you square in the gut and digging its finger in until your throat started closing like a vice. You hadn’t expected to react this strongly when talking about this with someone other than your inner circle. You were going to have to get good at this, fast, if you were hoping to have any shot of not going to prison. “It’s tough. Weird to see the holes they leave, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Foggy said, “I really do.”

He cast a glance over to his right, at a closed office door. His partner must have Bliped. They must be close.

“So, uh, knowing my case from the opposition, what do you think are my chances of staying on the outside?” you asked, forcing humor into the edges of your words. It was in vain in the end, but it made you feel better and relieved some of the tension that had been hung in the room.

“Honestly, I think the case against you is flimsy, from what I’ve heard, at least. That’s not to say they don’t have more than what’s I’ve heard second hand, but anything they have against you can easily be circumstantial, I assume, and probably outweighed by the good you did in these last five years.”

Your shoulder sagged, the weight of anxiety being chipped away. “You don’t even know what a relief it is to hear that. They skipped me when they were handing out pardons, and it’s kinda been weighing me down ever since.”

“I can only imagine,” he said with a laugh. “We’d love to take on your case. I’ll confirm it with my partners, but I highly doubt there will be any protests. I’ll review the charges against you and start building a case. When are you free to meet again to flush out details?”

His eagerness and enthusiasm were contagious. You let yourself smile, just a little, at him. “I’m pretty open. Not a lot going on right now, besides this.”

“Does tomorrow work?” he asked, glancing at a planner that was laid open on his desk. “Say, three?”

“Sound good,” you responded, loosening your writhing hands in your lap.

“Perfect!” He stood, extending a hand to you. You stood, taking his offering as the knot in your stomach began to untangle itself, just a little.

Before you could say anything, a door to your right opened, revealing a woman with blonde hair tied at the nape of her neck and a buzzing cell in hand.

“Karen!” Foggy exclaimed. He introduced you with a flourish, explaining your situation and the case he accepted on their behalf.

Karen was wide-eyed as she looked at you, offering another handshake, which you took gladly if it meant she was on your legal team. “Oh, wow, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Her voice held awe and the edge of humor.

“Nothing good, I’m sure,” you responded with a smirk.

“Oh, don’t be such a downer,” Foggy said, coming to stand next to you both. “It’ll be all good things by the time we’re through with you.”

“Your confidence is inspiring, Mr. Nelson,” you joked.

Foggy smiled, shrugging with mock humility. “All in a day’s work.”

You were exhausted by the time you made it back to your little Brooklyn apartment.

The sun had set fully and the autumn chill had started to eat away at the edges of summer. You shivered a bit as you pushed open the door, toeing off your shoes and tossing your bag on the counter.

It was quiet. So, so quiet in the apartment you’d once shared with Steve. Unbearably so.

Usually, on nights like this, you put on a record from his collection, the one he’d begun during the Blip, the day you signed the lease. Tonight, instead, you made your way into the kitchen, dug the half-empty bottle of vodka out of the freezer, and took a swig.

Steve was all over the apartment, but you couldn’t get the heart to pack any of his things up. The last remnants of him were preserved within the walls of your little one-bedroom broom closet. You’d had the money to opt for something a bit bigger, but Steve had insisted on this one. Feels like home, he’d said. The view of the bridge justified the pricey rent, so you’d agreed with hardly a second thought to move in here with him and try your damndest to build a life on the scraps of what you had left.

He’d lost Sam and Bucky in the same go, you’d lost Wanda and then Peter, those blows landing one after another, and Natasha wasn’t coping well with the loss. Neither was Steve, for that matter, but at least he wasn't pushing you away when you offered your shoulder.

Your eyes danced around the apartment as you picked up every reminder of him, and everything you lost. Suddenly, your stomach churned and you were regretting opening the vodka bottle. Your hands shook as you picked up your keys again and shoved the vodka bottle into your bag after a moment’s contemplation. You were out the door no more than five minutes after you’d even stepped foot in your apartment, hailing a cab and hoping the frantic New York evening would stave off your brewing panic attack.

Bucky opened the door with sleepy eyes and a frown etched deep into his face. He was clearly doing about as well as you were.

“Is that a bottle of vodka in your purse?”

“I can’t go home anymore.” Your voice was choked even as you tried to even out your breathing. Panic pulled at your every fiber, demanding to be heard. “He’s everywhere. He’s in everything. I can’t even have a simple fucking conversation without him being brought up.”

Bucky said nothing, just opened the door farther, allowing you to step inside. You took the invitation, walking on shaky legs.

“It’s never about him. It’s always about Tony, too,” you continued, tears stinging your eyes, threatening to spill. “Tony gets murals and dedications and eulogies and Steve gets a modification to an already existing monument as if his sacrifice meant less than Tony’s.”

Distantly, you heard the door click shut, and Bucky sigh, making his way towards you.

“Fuck Tony Stark,” you said, hysterics winning over and the tears finally staining your face. “Steve never did anything to deserve this. He’s just gone.”

You sobbed, air escaping you, as your world began to cave in. You felt arms wrap around you, tightening on your waist when you gasped and cried harder, turning to bury your face in Bucky’s shirt.

“I miss him too much,” you sobbed.

“I know,” Bucky said, a whisper in your hairline. And you knew he did, lest you have sought out the comfort you knew only he could provide. “I do too.”

Bucky had insisted you take his bed. You wanted to protest, but he was incessant and far less inebriated than you were by the end of the night, so you’d relented without too much push back. He’d made you down a glass of water before you passed out, and left some aspirin on the bedside table for you in the morning.

Maybe you should just move in here, you thought, with someone who understood what your grief felt like and somewhere that didn’t feel like a memoriam to everything you’d lost.

Your hangover was a dull, aching thing that gnawed its way into your bones and underneath your skull and buried itself deep within the creaks of your body.

The aspirin did little to curve the effect, and you cursed the universe that Bucky and his stupid super-soldier serum body was immune to drinking and hangovers, and that with all the crap your enhanced body could do, healing yourself wasn’t on that list. You stumbled out of his bedroom, grateful the lights were kept low. He was standing in the kitchen, a bag of something that smelled heavenly and a cup of coffee that smelled even more heavenly on the counter.

“No food here, I just got something delivered.” He turned as you approached, still blinking the sleep out of your eyes. “You look like shit.”

“Feel like it. Is that caffeine?”

“Just how you like it.” He nudged the cup towards you and your clumsy hands picked it up.

“You’re a saint,” you said, inhaling deeply, letting the warmth of the cup seep into your skin, willing it to engulf you and push out anything else.

“Eat something,” Bucky said, putting the bag on the small bar in front of him. “You can’t put all that coffee on an empty stomach.”

“So thoughtful,” you teased. “You eating?”

Bucky looked like he was going to respond for a moment, then you watched his expression change as his mind made up and he moved to the other side of the counter, taking the barstool next to you. You opened the bag, pulling out the breakfast he’d decided on. McDonald’s pancakes.

You felt safe here.

“I have a meeting today I don’t want to go to,” you said dumping two packs of syrup on your stack of pancakes and watching the eggs soak it up.

“What time? What for?” Bucky asked, eyeing your plate with heaps of judgment. “Do you want some food with your syrup?”

“Can it, Barnes,” you said, licking your plastic knife clean of the maple-y goodness. “Three. It’s with my new legal team so the FBI doesn’t send me to jail for not falling at Tony’s feet.”

Bucky chuckled a bit. “You rejected his help?”

“He didn’t leave me any, after the Blip.” You shoveled a dripping bite into your mouth.

“Seriously?”

“His resources and help died with him,” you said somberly. “I wasn’t gonna bug Pepper right now, not when I know what she’s going through. Or maybe I don’t, I don’t have a kid, but…” You poked at the styrofoam plate, watching how your fork left holes in the material. “I didn’t want it, anyway. I need one last act of rebellion against everything he is.”

Bucky smiled, almost imperceptibly. “So, what’s the plan?”

“No clue,” you admitted. “I went to the guys who did the Punisher trial. Guess I’m just hoping they’re as good as they are in the papers.”

“What are you gonna do if you lose?”

It wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t occurred to you. You were just uncertain as to if you actually cared.

You sighed, deep and gaping, like your lungs stretched open to reveal that gaping put you kept hidden away in an attempt to keep it from swallowing you whole. “Start praying again and hope God hasn’t abandoned me.”

Nelson, Murdock, and Page was just as inviting today as it was yesterday, and it unsettled you just a bit. You knocked, hearing a “come in!” tossed at the door before you even had a chance to steady yourself and put your hand on the knob. You opened the door, revealing Foggy and a man you hadn’t met yet. You could sense another person in the office to your right, Karen if you had to guess.

So, that makes this Matt Murdock.

Wow. Tall, dark, and handsome was an understatement. Not usually your type, but something about him was just magnetic. Like he knew the attention in the room would eventually land on him, and he was okay with it, good with it. Good at molding a crowd’s attention into something he can use. Something he had a bit of practice with, if the strong set of his jaw and the slight pout of his lips were any indication.

That was all you could really see of his face, though. He wore dark sunglasses with a red tint to them. This was the one with the heightened senses but no sight, you realized. The one who’s been in his office, you assumed, when you were here.

Whether he was enhanced, or a mutant like you, you couldn’t tell. Probably not appropriate to ask right upon meeting him, though.

He turned his attention to you in a way that made a shock go down your spine as you approached the two men. Foggy spoke first, gesturing to you with an introduction. Matt stuck his hand out in your general direction, and you took it, not without some hesitation.

“Hi,” you said, a mockery of a greeting. Your abilities were turned up to eleven, tracking every neurotransmitter sent through both boys’ systems. You could sense Matt’s heightened senses, almost feel them yourself (a habit your abilities had taken on recently which you were decidedly not happy with). You were in overdrive.

Foggy led you and Matt into Matt’s office, Karen joining you not a moment later. You heard Foggy recap your discussion yesterday distantly, nodding and agreeing at appropriate times. You let him read out the charges against you: evading and resisting arrest, theft, bribery, tax evasion, identity theft (even though you got fake IDs; Foggy didn’t think that one would stick, but would still land you with a misdemeanor), computer crime (which you didn’t even know was a thing), and of course, treason. Karen guessed there would be more. Matt was shocked you weren’t a wanted fugitive.

None of this was news to you and honestly, none of it phased you. You’d kept flitting your gaze back to Matt, as much as you tried not to, with his full lips and fluffy hair.

Oh, God, please do not be attracted to your lawyer.

You listened as the three of them spoke, mostly amongst themselves and with each other, answering questions and supplying what you could. It was hard to focus when you could feel Matt’s attention on you, unwavering and vice-like, the whole time.

“I think her safety should be our biggest concern,” Matt said. “With her abilities, landing prison time could be dangerous for both her and other inmates.”

“Damn, Matt, you’re gonna make her out to be armed and dangerous?” Foggy asked, eyebrows up to his hairline.

“I think a logical approach is the best way to go about this one. She’s probably more vulnerable to an attack, and prison guards don’t have the best reputation for defending vulnerable inmates,” he argued, voice strong and steady. “She gets attacked and tried to defend herself, people could end up dead.”

You gaped at him.

“What if they opt for something more high security, like what Helmut Zemo has, or the Raft?” Karen asked.

You shuddered at the mentions.

“Sorry,” Matt whispered to you, as Foggy responded to Karen. “I know frankness in this situation can make you feel a bit small. I’m sure mentioning your trauma doesn’t help.”

You snapped your mouth shut, acutely aware that he probably knew exactly what expression you wore in that moment. “I’m used to it, at this point.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier.” He leaned away, and only then did you realize just how close he’d been, the ghost of his breath on your cheek and ear.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Karen directed to you. You snapped your attention to her, willing your abilities to just shut up for a moment. Why are other people's bodies so damn loud? “What exactly are your powers?”

You swallowed hard, bringing your reheated script to the forefront of your mind. “It’s a mutation. I can control biomolecules,” you began, your voice lifeless. You tried to bring some vitality into your tone. Irony was a close friend of yours. “So, basically anything that’s living. It’s kind of a medical thing. I know what pheromones you’re emitting and what neurotransmitters are in your system right now. I can feel and control your heart rate, if I wanted to. It applies to plants and animals, too. I can change things around, if need be. Heal. There’s probably more, but I’m hesitant to keep exploring what I can do without my degree.”

You were met with silence, as you usually were. Karen was the first to recover, asking, “You’re in school?”

“Med school. Got an undergrad in environmental studies.”

Foggy was next, stuttering. “So you’re just aware of everything and everyone around you, all the time?”

“Not everything. Has to be living. I also try not to use it as much as I can, save the occasional life-or-death situation.”

You picked at your cuticles as Karen furiously scribbled something on her notepad and Foggy overwhelmed you with the feeling of confusion. You hated this. Explaining what you can do. It made you feel so ostracized. No one ever looked at you the same after they knew what you were capable of.

Steve had always encouraged you. Nat helped you explore your limitations. Bucky and Sam are still supportive. Wanda and Peter are relatable.

But outside of them, you were treated like a weapon at best. You were only ever an Avenger when they needed your help, or when you were disagreeing with them. Sharon Carter was one of the only people who ever fought to keep you away from SHIELD, and away from inevitably becoming an experiment. And you weren’t even sure she was still alive.

“So, that’s why you keep looking at me like that.”

Matt’s voice pulled you from your retreat of thoughts, snagging your attention back to the present so sharply you felt a sting on your consciousness.

“You know I’m looking at you.” There was nothing accusatory in either of your tones. Just… An olive branch. You revealed your hand, so he would reveal his.

“Wait,” Foggy said, still brimming with confusion. “You can pick up on his—”

“Enhanced senses,” you supplied, locked in a strange sort of sightless staring contest with Matt. “I was hit with it as soon as I walked in the building.

Matt gave an almost imperceptible laugh. “Mine have a larger range.”

Did he just…

Did he just tease you? Brag about how his enhancement was stronger than yours?

You flushed, suddenly biting back the edges of a smile.

“Holy shit,” Foggy said. “That’s…” He laughed, taking you a bit by surprise. “That’s honestly incredibly impressive.”

You blushed just a bit.

“I don’t doubt that this will go to trial. We’ll try to get you a pardon, all things considered. Maybe all they need is a bit of resistance and some time to come to their senses,” Matt said, rising out of his seat. “If we do end up in court, all you’ll need is a strong case and a sympathetic jury. Which, in this day and age, aren’t all that hard to come across.”

“Worst comes to worst,” Karen began, “you’re young. We can push that you were coerced. We did it with—”

“No,” you said, demanded, in a stronger voice than any of them had probably heard from you. From the way Matt went on edge, you could tell he knew what saying that meant to you. “No. I wasn’t coerced. Steve—” You unsuccessfully tried to hide the way your voice cracked on his name. You were speaking through the thick of tears now. “He never did anything like that. He wasn’t like that. Never. Not to anyone. And--and certainly not to me.” You took a deep breath, trying to comfort your frayed nerves and push off the tiredness. You were tired, so so so far beyond physically, or even emotionally or mentally tired. The kind of tired sleep can’t even catch anymore. “I know I’m young. I know I was a kid when the Avengers took me in. But I was eighteen when they split. I know, I know, I know that’s hardly an adult, but legally I was one. I made a choice when I pushed back against the Accords. Natasha and I did. We fell on opposite sides but that didn’t mean we weren’t pushing. The Avengers didn’t fall apart for lack of trying. We didn’t choose to run, we—we were forced.”

Forced by Tony, you thought. You’d avoided the subject of him for this long, though. No point in bringing him up now, even if it’s just to spare the inevitable headache he caused.

“All those years I spent with Steve, I—we—“ you couldn’t finish. No one knew about your relationship, save Nat and Sam who you were on the run with, and later Bucky. Most of the team knew by now, but it still wasn’t public domain. If it were to get out, things would get so, so much worse for you than they already were.

“You were together,” Karen supplied softly.

You wiped quickly, almost erratically at the tears that managed to escape. “We weren’t until about a year into running.” You took a shaky breath, your body betraying you. For all you could do to others with your mutation, it did jack shit to help control your own body. “He was a good man. He was so, so good.”

You hated explaining what you and Steve meant to each other to people, to anyone who didn’t know Steve. No one saw him the way they were meant to.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, an extension of comfort radiating from the skin, and your body betraying you by letting it bury itself within you. You looked over to see Matt, face sympathetic and thumb tracing a small pattern onto your skin. “It’s okay. We’ll keep him out of this.”

You thanked every God you could think of for Matt Murdock in that moment.

You’d left Nelson, Murdock, and Page feeling weirdly lighter than you had in days. It was like there had been an anvil in the center of your chest, and an attorney with fluffy hair and a smile that knew too much lifted it off with one conversation.

You were standing on the sidewalk, just outside the building for a few minutes after you left, contemplating if Bucky would let you spend the night again if you brought him takeout instead of alcohol he couldn’t get drunk off this time, when Foggy and Karen walked past you, saying goodbye and goodnight before getting in a cab together. A few moments later, Matt materialized next to you.

“Which way you headed?” He had his cane in hand, one you had the sneaking suspicion was for show, and his suit jacket draped over his forearm.

You stalled for a moment, your response held in suspense between the two of you. “Haven’t decided yet.”

Mat gave a crooked smile. “Too many options?”

“More like none at all.” You sighed, shivering a bit in the evening air. “Home isn’t home anymore, y’know? Wondering if my last remaining friend will trade takeout for his couch.”

He said nothing, just draped his jacket over your shoulders. He offered you his arm, then gestured for you to lead the way. You decided on food first. Then you’ll figure out where you can stomach sleeping tonight. You walked down the street on Matt’s arm, letting the slide of his cane lull you into a thoughtless wander.

“I lost someone, too,” Matt said, a couple blocks down. “Not that it’s any consolation. I know saying it sounds moot, but…”

You looked up at him expectantly.

“But grief is a universal language, nonetheless.”

“You say that like you’ve lost a lot of people,” you whisper.

Matt’s silence confirms your suspicion.

“So,” you prod, hesitant of where the line is between you and this man you met mere hours ago for the first time, but whose jacket lay around your shoulders to fend off the bite of cold in the air and whose arm you’re using to steady yourself as you walk with little knowledge of what direction you’re going in tonight, or tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. The man whose particular skillset connected the two of you in a strange understanding you could share, one which no one else could understand without. “Who was it? A partner?”

A small smile crept onto his face, one of reminiscing on fond memories. “Kinda. Yeah, I guess.”

You lapsed into silence again for another block. This, what Matt was offering you, was not something you could take freely.

“Her name was Elektra.”

You sensed norepinephrine flood his body as his anxiety spiked. “You don’t—you don’t have to tell me. I can tell it upsets you.”

“That’s the thing,” he said, unfazed by how easily you read him. “It never gets easier; talking about them, you know?”

You took that in for a moment, internalizing the idea that every time someone mutters Steve’s name, your throat will constrict like it did today. It never gets easier.

Matt continued as you approached the restaurant. “She was-she… She meant a lot to me. Point is, I get it.” He laughed a bit, running a hand over his chin as you came to a stop. “And I don’t, cause no one will ever know him like you did.”

You swallowed, doing little to dissipate the lump in your throat. “Can I buy you dinner?”

Matt gave you a sympathetic smile, the edges weighed down by something a bit indiscernible. “I wish I could, but I have a prior commitment tonight,” he admitted, and you sensed the genuine sentiment behind his words. “Let me know when you get where you’re going, when you figure it out.” He handed you a Nelson, Murdock, and Page business card with something scribbled on it. A number. “That’s my cell. Call me if you need a—couch, or anything.”

You smiled at him for a moment, letting your eyes flit over him, and all the emotion you could read without even looking under the surface. “Thank you,” you said. And for the first time in weeks, for the first time since the Blip, for the first time since you lost Steve, you meant it.

You hoped Bucky liked pho.

He threw the door open, rubbing sleep out of his eyes despite the relatively early hour. “What?”

“Do you like pho?”

“What.”

You held up the bag.

He sighed and opened the door further, letting you in. “Take my bed.”

You began to protest, his name falling half-heartedly off your lips.

“I can’t sleep in it anyway.”

You set the bag on the floor, sitting down and arranging the bowls of rice noodles and broth in front of you. Bucky took the invitation, eyeing the pho a bit wearily. The two of you ate in silence for a while, and you tried your best to keep your mind clear. You’d lost track of time after a while, just watching the broth swirl, when Bucky finally broke the silence.

“Whose jacket is that?”

119 notes · View notes

sapphosvioletts · 3 years ago

Text

I posted 510 times in 2021

461 posts created (90%)

49 posts reblogged (10%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.1 posts.

I added 711 tags in 2021

#violet replies - 312 posts

#violet talks - 96 posts

#🦋 anon - 56 posts

#marvel imagine - 40 posts

#avengers imagine - 40 posts

#avengers x reader - 37 posts

#autistic!reader - 33 posts

#autistic reader - 33 posts

#🌻🦥 anon - 32 posts

#avengers x teen!reader - 32 posts

Longest Tag: 71 characters

#been waiting for anons but i never asked no wonder why i didn't get any

My Top Posts in 2021

Very Protective

Yelena Belova x Autistic reader

Request:

i was just wondering if you could do a yelena x autistic!reader where r meets natasha, melina, alexei for the first time? and maybe alexei is too excited and scares r and yelena becomes protective

Word count: 1,198

482 notes • Posted 2021-08-14

Not Real

Yelena belova and Natasha Romanoff x Autistic reader

Summary:

Natasha's daughter had looked for Yelena everywhere, only to find her at her mother's grave. They talk and Yelena promises to be there for her, as they both express their emotions with the recent events. During their meeting, the person they least expect to show up makes an appearance, although her daughter is having a hard time believing it's real.

Request: I just had a great idea for an autistic! reader oneshot where after the events of endgame, the reader decides to find and meets Yelena for the first time.

Word count: 1,674

516 notes • Posted 2021-08-28

Love You More

Natasha Romanoff x Autistic Daughter

Summary:

Just a little moment of Natasha and taking care of her daughter and letting her stim with her hair <3

Word count: 983

517 notes • Posted 2021-06-12

Ignorance

Natasha and Bucky x Autistic Teen Daughter

Summary: Natasha and Bucky, who were sent to interrogate a girl but ended up taking her in as their own, loved their daughter and would protect her with their lives, even if that's only from ignorant people - When they have to attend a dinner with some new agents and the agents are being ignorant about autistic people, Bucky and Nat stand up for their daughter. When one of the agents just can't seem to stay out of their business, she goes to their daughters room and tries to talk to her, resulting in her having a meltdown. Natasha and Bucky are good parents basically

Word count: 3,464

831 notes • Posted 2021-05-29

Family

Black Widow family x Autistic teen reader

Summary:

Melina and Alexei were tasked with playing the role of a family in Ohio with three daughters. Melina manages to hide the youngest to keep her from being taken to the Red Room, and she grew up having Melina as her mom. When Natasha, Yelena, and Alexei find Melina, they are shocked to find their youngest sister, who they thought was dead.

Word count: 2,263

982 notes • Posted 2021-07-24

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #violet talks

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clara-licht · 5 years ago

Text

You’ve Gotta Be Kidding Me

You woke up in a familiar place with Marvel actors staying there. Or at least, you thought they were actors...

Pairing: The Avengers & Reader Genre: Platonic, general Word Count: 1.9k Note: This is an edited version from my old work in deviantart where the idea is you somehow met the Avengers, but you thought they were the actors instead. It’s been a while since I last wrote something so this was a nice refresher! I got a Peter Parker imagine in works right now, though.

When you opened your eyes, you instantly regretted it.

"Ugh!"

You shielded your eyes from the burning light. When your eyes finally adapted to the lightings, you took in your surroundings. You were in a familiar room. But you didn't think you've been there before. It just that you thought you knew this room. It was quiet, but not dead quiet. You kept looking around you in silence, until a voice startled you.

"Good morning, miss."

"Who's there?!" You immediately jumped out of the bed you'd been on.

"Please do not be alarmed. My name is FRIDAY, an Artificial Intelligence created by my boss, Anthony Stark."

Hearing this, you scoffed. FRIDAY? Anthony Stark? Okay, this was either a dream or someone was pulling prank on you. "Yeah, right. And I fell from the sky to SHIELD's Helicarrier, saved by Captain America, and was treated by Dr. Bruce Banner in Stark Tower. Or is it Avengers Tower?" You said sarcastically.

You got to admit; you loved Marvel. Even if you were pretty sure Endgame also ended your life as you knew it and you couldn't accept a lot of things that happened in that movie. Like Steve leaving Bucky for Peggy, who he knew already had a fulfilling life and children? Nonsense. Far From Home was also quite heartbreaking, seeing your favorite character, Peter Parker, going through a lot like that. You just re-watched it a few days ago and had a good cry about it. Or was it weeks ago? Or hours ago? Wait, why were your memories foggy? You couldn't remember what happened before you woke up in the room.

"Are you okay?"

It took a moment for you to regain your composure. "Yeah, I'm fine. So, care to explain what happened? You can't be the real FRIDAY. As much as how I wanted you to be, FRIDAY only exist in Marvel Universe. Where is this? How did I end up here? What happened? Who are you and what do you want?"

"One moment."

You raised an eyebrow. Now she intended to make you wait? Whoever that guy who pretended to be FRIDAY was, her voice could seriously pass as Kerry Condon's.

A sound of door sliding open made you turned around. And God did you not regret doing it.

"OH MY GOD. ROBERT DOWNEY JR?!"

"Who?" The vertically challenged man, who clearly was Robert Downey Jr. a.k.a Iron Man actor, frowned. Now you didn't care if it was a prank pulled by your friends. You got to meet Downey after all!

"Oh God, are you really?! What did I do to deserve meeting you?!" You started squealing.

"Hey, FRIDAY? Are you sure she's not mentally broken? She hit her head quite hard, didn't she?"

"Yes, boss. I ran full scan of her and right now the amount of dopamine in her brain is increasing- indicating that she's happy. Aside from that, I am 100% sure she is fine."

It was your turn to frown. "What? What scan?"

Downey chuckled and looked at you. "Follow me."

Slightly confused, you followed him.

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"So… Mr. Downey?" You called.

"Who is this Downey that you keep speaking of?"

"You, of course!"

"Well," He lifted an eyebrow as he inched closer to you, "my name is Tony Stark. Feel free to call me Tony, not that name of someone I don't even know about. I've never met someone who don't know about me before."

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. "Well, Tony," You emphasized his name, "if you keep insisting on playing the whole Iron Man act, then I will play along."

"Play?" He mumbled, face now confused. But he decided to say nothing as the elevator dinged and you two exited the cramped lift. He led you to a spacious room. On your way, you looked around. Now you knew why it felt familiar. That place was designed close to the Avengers Compound in the movie. Whoever did this prank, they really outdid themselves.

"And here we are!"

"What took you so long, Tony?"

"Brother Anthony! I see that the lady has woken up!"

"Oh, she's awake."

"Hey, Cap! That girl you saved is awake!"

"She is?"

You gaped.

No.

Freaking.

Way.

"Now I'm sure I must be dreaming." You muttered.

"What was it, sunshine?" Downey, you mean Tony, asked with that annoying smile. "So! Let me introduce you to-"

"Chris Hemsworth, Jeremy Renner, Scarlett Johansson, Elizabeth Olsen, Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, Ty Simpkins and oh my god it's Tom Holland and Tom Hiddleston. Yes, I know their names, thank you very much." You mumbled under your breath. "

"Okay, dear lady who seems to know whoever name that you've mistaken us for, I will correct those names for you." Tony sighed. "Meet Thor and his brother Loki who finally decided to stop being a menace after almost dying in the hand of evil purple ball sack," he gestured to Hemsworth and Hiddleston.

"Those two scary assassins over there are Clint Barton, known as Hawkeye, and Natasha Romanoff, or Black Widow," then he pointed at Renner and Johansson.

"Wanda Maximoff, also known as Scarlett Witch." Olsen hesitantly waved at you.

"Capsicle, Steve Rogers, and practically-his-boyfriend, Bucky Barnes." Evans looked at Tony disapprovingly while Stan nodded politely at you. "Usually they got a third guy, Sam Wilson, with them, but he's currently visiting his family."

"And lastly, my interns, Peter Parker and Harley Keener. Vision and Banner are somewhere in this Compound."

You scoffed again. "This might be the best time to wake up. Okay, wake up!" You close your eyes and started shaking your head. "Wake up!"

"What are you doing?" Renner, or Clint, asked.

"Why can't I wake up?" You mumbled. You slapped yourself, hard. "OW! DAMN, THAT HURTS!" Your eyes widened.

"It… hurts? So this is not a dream?" Blinking a few times, realization dawned on you. "Oh, this must be a prank. Alright, you got me. What the hell happened to me earlier and who organized this prank?"

Tom Holland looked up and raised a hand, "I can answer that!"

"Nope, you just stay there quietly, Underoos. Take it away, Cap." Tony said, followed by Holland pouting.

What a cute guy. Wait, no, focus!

Evans stepped forward, "I believe I can answer that."

He started explaining that when Peter (nope, it's Tom Holland, it's got to be Holland) was running on the tracks outside, he saw something falling out from the sky at a rapid pace. That something turned out to be you, who were unconscious at the time. Alarmed, he caught you (no, that doesn't make sense, IF I was really falling that fast, he shouldn't be able to catch me that easily without any of us injured) and called for help. They brought you inside and got Doctor Helen Cho (again, that must be Claudia Kim or something) to check you and she cleared you out. Apparently Doctor Stephen Strange (seriously, they got Benedict Cumberbatch here too?!) came by earlier to check you as well and deemed you non-dangerous, so they let you stay in one of the rooms in the Compound until you wake up.

"Ha, nice story, Captain. Come on, be serious here for a second!" You shook your head, "The Avengers isn't real, okay? They're just fiction! A made-up story! As much as I would love for them to be real, they only exist in Marvel Universe and thank goodness Sony and Disney kinda made up and let Spider-Man stays in MCU because otherwise I won't know what to do! Besides, there's just no way someone could have super powers like-"

"You're scared," Olsen stated softly, "I understand. But I know you somehow feel comfortable standing here with us. You recognized us as someone that you knew, someone you actually trust. You… You somehow feel at ease and want to believe us, although your mind keeps telling you that you're dreaming and this is a prank by your best friend (f/n). You're not, this is not."

You took a step back. It suddenly seemed dangerous to be in that room and whatever ease you felt (yes, she was right, you did feel comfortable for some reason) left you immediately. "Okay… I don't know how know that, but clearly there must be something wrong here…"

"Something wrong indeed." Hiddleston sighed in his attractive British accent as he, who was supposed to be sitting on the couch beside Hemsworth, walked pass from behind you with a bottle of coke in his hand.

"I-I thought you were there!" You pointed at the couch.

"I was."

"Then how-"

"It's not hard to teleport, mortal."

"What-"

"Are you okay? You look pale." Renner, who you started to believe was the real Clint Barton, walked towards you.

"No! Stay where you are!"

"Miss-"

You slid down and sat on the floor, pounding head in your hands. "This is not real. It can't be. It can't be. It can't be…" You whispered over and over again in between your short breath. Your heart was racing and your whole body started shaking.

"Miss, take a deep breath-"

"SHUT IT!"

"Boss, the lady seems to be in distress and starting to show symptoms of panic attack."

"Shit. Hey, hey, come on, breathe slowly-"

"I'm sorry, is this the wrong time to come?"

A new voice made you turn around, only to see a weird person with red and green skin wearing a shiny cape coming in, followed by a big green figure.

"V-Vision?" You croaked out.

"Uh, yes. Do I know you?"

And that was the cue for you to pass out.

❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"We're not."

"But there's just no way-"

"And there's just no way for you to come from a dimension where it seems so peaceful."

"It's not peaceful! War still happens!"

"Yes, but no outer space threat? Really?"

"It's just a fiction!"

"Well it's not. Look at Loki."

When you regained your consciousness, you were still surrounded by some the Avengers. The real Avengers. It made you accept the fact that it was not, indeed, a dream.

"So, I fell out from the sky," Peter nodded. "and this is the Avengers Compound." He nodded again. "You all have no idea what happened to me since Dr. Strange, Maximoff, Stark, Thor, and even Loki knows nothing." They nodded. "And I can't even remember what happened before it!"

"Hey, we'll found out about it." Vision said reassuringly.

"How do you know that I'm not evil?" You asked.

"He's worthy of Mjölnir, and he can see pass you. He knows." Thor said with a smile.

"Besides Strange said you're fine. Maximoff also doesn't feel any threat coming off from you, and Peter's tingle-" Tony stopped himself, "Uh, I mean, Peter is good at sensing bad people and he's fine."

"Are you sure you can help me regain my memory?" You asked, ignoring the little blunder. You must tell them what you knew later and asked about the timeline. Tony mentioned 'evil grape ball sack' which definitely meant Thanos, but he was alive, along with Natasha and Vision, so there must be something different.

"With all our might."

"How?"

"Well, let's start with you telling us your name."

"It's (y/n), (y/n) (l/n)."

259 notes · View notes

helloprettybb · 4 years ago

Text

at least

I have series ideas and everything but have very little motivation so here’s a super angsty piece. I’m sorry, but thinking about Steve going back for Peggy makes me emotional. Also, this gif doesn’t really make sense, but it fits the sad mood.

warnings: tons of angst, description of death, endgame spoilers if that’s a thing

word count: 1.2k

The compound is destroyed and the formally pristine lawn is unrecognizable. Even though you won the battle, bodies of people that you don’t know still laid on the ground.

Tony is dead. You watched the life drain from his body as he said his final words to Pepper. Your heart hurts at the loss of a mentor, friend, and father figure.

As much pain as you feel, you don’t summon any tears. Maybe it’s from the shock or relief that you won, but you can’t feel anything and it scares you. Your eyes are locked on Tony’s lifeless ones. All you feel is hollowness like someone carved your heart out.

You remove your eyes from Tony, you search for some kind of comfort. Scanning the battlefield, you find it in the form of a worn-out soldier. Steve’s eyes, usually bright and brimming with enthusiasm, are solemn and shell-shocked. You don’t have to say anything for Steve to walk over and wrap you in his arms. You close your eyes and rest your forehead on his shoulder. Ignoring all the blood and injuries, the two of you stay like that.

At least you have Steve.

- You hang your head solemnly, trying to hold back tears. The funeral is harder than you thought if that was even possible. When the first person started talking, you could feel the tears emerge. You learned some new things and heard old stories about Tony. Some made you laugh while others made you roll your eyes, but all of them amplified the pain in your heart.

Your thoughts begin to spiral and you find your resolve breaking. You think of Pepper being left a widow and you cry your first tear. You try to tell yourself that she’s a strong woman and she can get through this, but then you think of Morgan and you sob quietly.

The small, precious girl that you’ve grown to love won’t have a father. The only memories she’ll have of Tony will be muddled and faded as she ages. Sure, she’ll have stories from others and the internet, but it won’t be the same. She’ll never know Tony like you did.

You feel a strong, firm hand grab yours. You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was. You grab Steve’s hand and turn your head towards his body. He doesn’t say anything, opting to caress your knuckles lightly. The speaker’s words fade out as you think about his warm hand in yours.

At least you have Steve. - With the compound destroyed, you didn't have anywhere to stay. Luckily, Pepper was kind enough to offer you a room at their cabin. After the funeral, you locked yourself in your temporary bedroom and cried. After a couple of hours, you felt exhausted from sobbing and instantly fell asleep.

You awoke to drier tear ducts dried out and less puffy eyes. Checking the clock on the nightside, you see that it's past midnight. You leave your room and head to the kitchen. You haven't eaten since the funeral and your grumbling stomach reminds you that it's been nearly thirteen hours.

You tip-toe down the stairs to try to be courteous to Pepper and Morgan. Once you reach the bottom of the steps, you sneak to the kitchen and immediately head toward the fridge. You're greeted by a bright blue light and an abundant amount of food. Rummaging for whatever you're craving, you hear the light switch turn on.

"I forgot that I wasn't the only person with a sleeping problem." You could recognize that commanding yet playful tone anywhere. Grabbing one last item from the fridge, you close the door and turn toward Steve.

"I'd wager that most of us have a sleeping problem, Rogers," you respond half-jokingly, still finding it hard to cheer up. Steve smiles and you can feel your chest easing slightly.

"I want to tell you something." Steve states. His vagueness simultaneously worries and intrigues you.

Steve clears his throat and starts, "You've become one of my closest friends. You helped me adjust to the modern world and I could never thank you enough for it." Steve says, you nodding along.

"That's why I wanted to tell you..." Is Steve going to confess his feelings? "I'm staying with Peggy when I return the stones." Luckily, your years of training taught you how to control your face because otherwise, you would have started crying right then and there. You don't say anything and Steve asks, "Y/n?" "Yeah, sorry, I'm just surprised." Forcing a positive tone, you add, "I'm really happy for you."

Steve smiles and continues, "Thanks."

He starts to get up and you ask, "Have you told anybody else?"

"Just Bucky," he replies and you nod. You know he can sense your sadness, but he probably misinterprets it when he says, "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too." Steve gives one last quick smile and begins to walk away.

"Hey," you call a little louder than you should.

Steve stops and asks, "Yes?"

You should confess your feelings. You probably won't see him ever again and he needs to know. " I uh..." you stutter, feeling your chest tighten and hands clench. The words I love you, Steve run through your head as you try to gather your thoughts.

"Just wanted to say, thank you for consoling me during Tony's funeral. I didn't know I would get that emotional," you say instead.

Maybe Steve expected something else because you see a flash of disappointment before he says, "You're welcome. Emotions don't make you weak, y'know?"

You smile a little sadly and respond, "I know, Steve."

You thought you had Steve. - Bruce is firing up the machine. The pain of being that close to Steve when he leaves forever would be too much to bear, so you opted to watch from across the way. You were still close enough to hear Banner spouting instructions and informing Steve. He reassures Bruce that he'll clip all the branches. You shake your head slightly, if you were in a lighter mood, you might have laughed. Even at such a serious time, Steve can still make a joke or two.

"You know, I tried." Bruce starts, "When I had the gauntlet, the stones. I really tried bringing her back." You knew who he was talking about and it cracked your already broken heart. When you learned that your return, along with everyone's, cost Natasha her life, you didn't know what to feel. There were so many emotions welling up inside that it seemed your mind couldn't decide. You were already fragile from Tony's death, so Natasha's was just the nail in the coffin. Your body never experienced so much grief in such a short time and it chose to shut down.

"I miss her, man," Bruce adds after a thoughtful pause.

"Me too," Steve responds. Steve steps onto the platform and you watch as the white suit engulfs his navy one.

Before he puts the helmet on, Steve locks eyes with you one last time. He shoots a sad smile and you match it. When the helmet is fully around his head, you turn around before you can watch him disappear forever.

At least she had Steve.

#steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x you #stever rogers imagine #marvel #marvel imagine

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magewardensurana · 3 years ago

Text

Dear Creator Letter

Under the Cut!

First of all thank you so much for taking on my prompts, I’m looking forward to seeing whatever it is you create for me!

Okay, general DNWs:

Racism, homophobia, misogynistic language, incest or pseudo incest, sexual content outside of what would be canon appropriate, pretty much every kink going, imbalanced power dynamics, soulmates, rape, animal or child abuse, animal death, AUs (coffee shop, no powers, highschool/uni etc), Avengers Endgame-Complaint fics.

Now onto my Do Wants

Found family, angst with a happy ending, casefics, bisexual ladies coming to their bisexuality later in life, bisexual ladies who knew all along, bisexual ladies who chose men over women (a given for this event), AUs that take canon and make it a little different.

My writing on AO3 is a good indication of what I like, and feel free to check out my tumblr for a good idea of my kind of jam.

Fandom Specific (honestly though these are just prompt ideas. If you have something else in mind go for it)

MCU

I’m not a big fan of Endgame, or most of Infinity War, so if you want to go ‘to hell with this, everyone lives’ then I am more than okay with that. If you want Thanos to have been killed shortly after GOTG2 because Nebula tracked him down and stabbed him in the dick until he died from it then I’m also okay with that.

Carol/Maria - I’d love something pre-canon with these two. Their backstory is so interesting, especially when you factor in they were co-parenting and dating under DADT. I’d also love lots of interactions with Monica&Carol and Mar Vell and Carol. if you want to go for a casefic then, since I do love Natasha, Carol vs a Red Room Loyal Black Widow?

Carol/Valkyrie - Anything post-Ragnarok with the Asgardians (all of them, even the dead ones. Canon is dead and we killed it) on Earth, Would love: a lot of Carol interacting with the Revengers and Valkyrie interacting with literally any female characters because the MCU is bad at that.

Sarah/May - So much potential with these two. Blended families! Second loves! Dating while older and with kids! I know Sambucky is a logical sistership to this pairing but I’m not a fan of that ship.

Dragon Age

Cassandra/Literally Any Of The Female Protagonists - Big fan of ‘Cass should’ve been bi’ so I’d like something exploring this. I’d like something set during DAI (so after the death of her boyfriend) with Cass coming to realisations about her sexuality. However you want to write the Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor is fine but my preference is for Surana, Sarcastic/Aggressive mage!Hawke and mage Adaar. I don’t like Anders so if you ever want to throw in some Anders hate then I’m fine with that.

Josie/Bela - I’d love something post-DAI with Josie taking Bela home to meet her family, or Josie as a member of Bela’s pirate crew (and putting her diplomatic skills to good use)

Marquis of Serault/Well Read Pig Farmer - I just want anything involving my favourite former Tevinter magister.

Fire Emblem

Three Houses - my preference is for the Crimson Flower route, but if you want to go the angst route of Byleth and El are fighting against each other then Golden Deer is my favourite path. I also love AUs where the three Lords (or four, counting Yuri) team up with each other to fight against TWSITD. Other than that I have no preferences for what you want to do with any of the ships.

Blazing Blade - I’d love to see post FE7, pre-FE6 stuff, with Lyn and Florina being involved in their friends’ lives. Lyn teaching Roy swordfighting, Florina teaching Lilina how to ride a Pegasus. Plus, lots of interacting with Farina and Ninian (especially if you want to build on the Ninian and Florina friendship). Or if you want to do what they were up to during FE6 I’d love that too.

Awakening - No preferences here.

Resident Evil

Rebecca/Claire - AU where Rebecca is still in Racoon City and teams up with Claire and Sherry? Vendetta AU where Claire is there too? Chris and Jill are getting married and neither Claire or Becca have dates and go together? I don’t really mind. For RE2 canon I prefer the 1998 storyline (Claire A/Leon B) but if you only know the remake then that’s fine, or if you want to mix canons that’s also fine. For past relationships I love the angst Burnfield gives Claire but Billy and Rebecca I see as completely platonic.

Jill/Ada - Normally I’m a strictly Valenfield and Aeon kind of woman but I have a weakness for this ship. Jill is heavily associated with the colour blue, has blonde or brown hair depending on the game and is completely on the side of justice. What I’m saying is: she’s Ada’s type. I love the idea of Ada being at the police station early and running into Jill while she’s there in RE3. I’m also a fan of Ada trying to save Jill in RE5 when she realises it’s her actions in Spain that led to Jill’s brainwashing.

Ace Attorney

I don’t have any preference just as long as there’s no Franmaya, which is my NOTP or the Bad Cykesquill (Simon/Athena. Not only is the age difference too high, but they have a sibling relationship and Simon is clearly gay). I tend to headcanon Klaiver and Ema used to date but Mia and Godot never did. Background Wrightworth is always a plus.

FMA Manga//Brotherhood

Oliver/Maria - Honestly it’s not hard to see what I like when it comes to this ship because the AO3 tag is 99% written by me. Put Olivier in suspenders and holding a sword and I’m a happy woman.

Rose/Paninya - a woman whose town was destroyed in riots and a woman who has found a love of doing repair work? And they’re both friends with Winry who is more than happy to play matchmaker? The pairing writes itself. I know that the 03 anime gave Rose a dead boyfriend, but the manga never specifies. They’re lesbians, Harold.

Dishonored

Emily/Alexi - Wyman? I don’t know her! I love AUs where Alexi lives and is on the Dreadful Wale during the events of the game. Also a big fan of Jess Lives AUs if you want to have Emily attempting to court her childhood best friend/bodyguard while her amazingly embarrassing parents cheer her on. And I love the AUs where both Corvo and Emily are the co-protagonists (especially marked!Corvo, flesh and steel!Emily). I ignore the canonical age difference between Corvo and Jess and put them both as being in their late teens when they met. Basically anything where Alexi is still alive and not going to die is a good fic. If you want to include Wyman at all my preference is for female Wyman since I see Emily as a lesbian. Either she and Emily are exes on good terms or have always been just friends.

Anyway, I think that’s everything. Thank you again!

#dear creator letter

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thanksjro · 4 years ago

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More Than Meets the Eye #16- All the Greatest Love Songs are Secretly About Heroin

Dang, been a minute since we got into the series proper. What all happened again?

Oh. Right. That.

…So anyway, let’s brush up on our Ultra Magnus history!

There was a massive fight on top of a spaceship. Swoop was there, Impactor was there, Overlord was there, Heretech was there, Killmaster was there- shit was lit. Ultra Magnus was doing his thing, though it looks like this was before he got LASIK done, because he’s got a visor on.

Then Ultra Magnus got shot in the gut and fell off the spaceship. It was so scary his hand started spasming.

Later on, we return to a place we’ve seen before, albeit from the Decepticon side.

Magnus, your badge isn’t up to code, my guy! Better get that sorted, before your current self comes out of his medically induced coma, invents time travel, and comes to beat you up.

Also, Pious Maximus? What is your friggin’ DEAL, bro? What the actual hell is your deal?

All the K-Cons start falling out of the sky, and Magnus orders everyone to take cover, as a familiar-looking bomb that literally has his name written on it lands bang on target. It’s such an intense experience, his hands start spasming.

Later still, Magnus is in the middle of dealing with the Simanzi Massacre, and it looks like his visor’s seen better days. Hopefully it was a reading pair, and not something he actually needed to see. Rotorstorm is also there, because his character apparently only exists to suffer. Magnus and his team rise from the muck and the mire, coming ashore right on top of a Cybernought, which promptly fries Magnus with its hand lasers. He gets so crispy, his hands start spasming.

For anyone having trouble parsing the scraps of rended metal that used to be Rewind of Lower Petrohex here, allow me a moment to break him down. That cylinder in the lower left corner is his camera, the wire coming off of it is where it plugged into his head, and that squarish chunk with the clean, round hole in it is probably part of his helmet. The other chunky bits I couldn’t tell you what they are, but I think it’s pretty safe to say that Chromedome absolutely put the dog to sleep with that blast last issue.

Inside the Lost Light, Swerve’s trying to be a nice guy by putting on some tunes for Ultra Magnus, who got his spark shot by Overlord last issue, but all it’s really done is make Ratchet get distracted.

Magnus is in a bad way, as was established by First Aid last issue, and it doesn’t seem like Ratchet’s having any more luck than had been predicted. Swerve’s here for emotional support, and also because he’s got medical training. Tailgate’s here for cleanup duty. Drift’s off in the corner making snide remarks about the medical equipment, probably because he’s mad his legs are still off.

Drift looks like he’s been chiseled out of stone here, and I kind of love it. Forget softboi uwu Dwift, I want more of this guy who’ll bite into a teddybear cactus and not even flinch.

Agustin Padilla’s back on the scene for this issue, and he’s decided that everyone’s going to be elongated in as many ways as he can manage in 20 pages. Tailgate and Swerve? Tallest they’ll ever be in the series. They’re as tall as Cyclonus, and he’s a fucking space jet. Someone’s got a chevron? You better believe that thing’s scraping the gotdang ceiling. Drift’s kitty-cat ears almost never fit into the panel, because those suckers are LONG today. It’s like they’ve all been put through a taffy-puller. There are a lot of little quirks with this art, but this is one I can kind of get behind, if only because it’s so distinctive.

Getting back to the story, Drift’s talking about the Death Clock here- no, not the animated band from Adult Swim, but an actual medical device that can calculate the moment a shrinking spark will give out, down to the second. It only measures the lifespans of the terminally ill, so Swerve hasn’t accidentally given himself even more depression by sticking his little hands in the shiny light without a thought as to what the device he’s messing with might do.

Ultra Magnus has about ten days to live. This makes Tailgate incredibly upset, because he, unlike everyone else on the ship, hasn’t experienced the horrors of war and death.

Ratchet’s right, though. There’s certainly a chance that Tailgate, who’s been shown to react to stressful situations by having panic attacks to the point of blacking out, could have a very severe response to what is his first major catastrophe. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder usually isn’t an immediate development, but being proactive about your mental health is never a bad thing if you can swing it. Hell, with how bad the Overlord situation was, I wouldn’t be surprised if Rung was booked solid long enough for Tailgate to actually have time to develop PTSD.

Rodimus is on the intercom to address the situation that just took place, because man oh man, was it a doozy. He intends to hold an inquiry to figure out just what the hell happened and how Overlord got on the Lost Light to begin with. As he tells everyone what’s going to happen, our focus shifts to Chromedome, who’s standing on the outside of the ship, staring off into space.

Man, I hope Chromedome’s on the front half, because this is a fucking grim scene to witness.

Skids comes out, having been looking for Chromedome. Trailcutter of all people pointed him in the right direction- which I suppose makes sense, given that he was on the Ethics Committee on Kimia. He probably would know Chromedome and Rewind decently well by this point.

Chromedome turns around to show off his mourning black Autobot badge, freshly photoshopped onto his chest for our viewing pleasure. It’s especially blatant when contrasting with Padilla’s rougher linework style.

Skids asks our brand-new widower how he’s holding up, and Chromedome says he’s fine, which is funny, because the other day he was all:

Chromedome has a moment of reminiscing, playing connect-the-dots with the stars like he and Rewind used to do all the time.

Skids, they were married for 250,000 years.

Skids might actually have been one of the worse people to have found Chromedome, if this is what he’s going to say, and then immediately leave. He’s so awkward and clearly uncomfortable and doesn’t want to be there. Does he feel weird about Chromedome knowing more about him than he himself does? Does Skids not have access to any of his memories related to mourning? Geez, I hope nobody needs him to help them through a difficult emotional time for a good while, because this was painful to watch.

Back inside the ship, Rung’s come over to Rodimus’ room to see what all the crashing and banging is about. It would seem our dear captain’s upset, and has decided to work through his frustrations by destroying his private quarters, perhaps in an attempt to summon the wrath of Ultra Magnus, thus saving him through the power of his own mess-induced rage. Rung comes to sit with Rodimus, I guess giving up his search for Chromedome, and the two of them discuss Magnus. Specifically, they discuss Magnus’ memos, and how much Rodimus despises receiving them, because they make him feel like he’s not doing his job right. He stopped even opening them, they made him feel so bad.

If you subscribe to the headcanon of Rodimus having ADHD, you could potentially read this as being a manifestation of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. As it is within the story proper, Rung’s decided to ignore this tidbit of information to get at the more pressing issues, like why exactly Rodimus felt the need to wreck his room.

This is about the point where the art for Rodimus becomes roughly 90% spot blacks, and it’s highly suggested that Rung get out while the getting’s good.

Oh, well this is going to be awkward.

Later on, we’re at the funeral. There’s five coffins, though not all of them actually contain a body. Everyone’s here to see their friends off, even Cyclonus, who was invited to the wake by Chromedome himself. Awful nice of him to do that, given their history.

The lineup in the front row is a bunch of chatterboxes, and they prove that very quickly as Swerve, Skids, and Whirl theorize on the contents of Brainstorm’s mysterious briefcase, which is also here at the funeral. Swerve swears himself to the duty of finding out what’s inside, on threat of death should he fail.

A short time skip is had, and Rodimus is revealed to be wearing his ceremonial funeral cape and terrifying vampire arm spikes to this shindig, as he sends Tripodeca, who is surely the most beloved of all Autobots, off with as many kind words as he can muster in the time they have. Everyone says goodbye, and we get to Rewind’s turn. Rodimus has a moment of pause, as Rung gives him the most withering look I believe he will ever produce in the entirety of the run of MTMTE/Lost Light.

Rodimus concedes to giving Rewind the credit for saving everyone from Overlord posthumously, as well as Fortress Maximus and Chromedome, labelling himself as a failure on that front. Chromedome comes up to the podium for a few words on the love of his life.

…well, it’s been a long day for everyone, I suppose.

Chromedome sits back down, right next to Brainstorm because they’re besties, as Brainstorm stares him down like he knows something Chromedome doesn’t.

Probably because he does.

After the funeral, Brainstorm pays Chromedome a visit, finding him in the middle of spring cleaning. He’s taking all of Rewind’s stuff and shoving it in a box to be destroyed.

Does it count as foreshadowing if it’s like a page before the reveal? I guess so.

Chromedome is trying to ease Brainstorm’s mind about the inquiry Rodimus is conducting, saying that the guy ought to talk to Drift before he gets TOO antsy about spilling the beans- perhaps a touch too late there, Domey- but Brainstorm isn’t here for any of that.

So you’re saying Chromedome/Dominus isn’t going to be endgame.

Turns out Chromedome’s been collecting dead spouses, and he wasn’t even aware of it. When faced with this inherent truth about his personal relationship with grief, Chromedome only has this to say:

Time for a pop quiz!

When the burden of life is too much to bear, what is an addict most likely to do? Is it:

A) Quit cold turkey

B) Seek help for their addiction

C) Relapse

If you answered C, you get a gold star, and a harsh reminder that addiction is a fucking monster that will devour your life and meaningful relationships, leaving you with nothing but itself for company.

Chromedome has had a problem with injecting since he got good enough at it to get his own set of finger needles, and he’s been completely dependent on other people to get himself to even close to stopping the habit. His character bio on the crew roster page has, up until this point, outright claimed this.

Now Rewind’s gone, and there’s really nothing stopping him from just taking that pain away. Brainstorm certainly can’t do it, though not for lack of trying.

Chromedome says that he won’t go through with his plan, but Brainstorm knows he’s lying, because they’ve done this song and dance before. At this point, asking Chromedome to not inject is just a courtesy to the deceased.

No wonder Chromedome invited Cyclonus to the funeral- probably figured why the hell not, since he wouldn’t remember it anyway.

Brainstorm gives Chromedome a data slug- the last one Rewind ever made, shot through the door just before it sliced Chromedome’s arm off, and found by Fort Max. Brainstorm leaves, probably to go prepare himself for that awful, hollow feeling he’ll be getting the next time he sees Chromedome.

Over in the shuttle bay, Rodimus is addressing the crew, Chromedome is retconned into being Toxin because he’s not supposed to be in this scene, and Drift is named as the sole conspirator in the Overlord debacle. Rodimus just starts tearing into Drift, and while he does, we cut over to the medibay, where some zombie nonsense is going on.

Golly, seems like there’s some flavor of undead on the Lost Light every other week, doesn’t it?

Rodimus strips Drift of his Autobot badge and tells him to get the fuck out.

Back at Chromedome’s room, he’s decided to take a gander at what Rewind left behind, plugging the data slug into the computer.

Man, this part always makes me a little weepy.

I can’t do Rewind’s final message justice, not in the choppy format I present here- which is perhaps a bit ironic, given the nature of how it’s presented. In the final moments he had, Rewind pieced together a plea for Chromedome to love himself, and to remember that he was- and still is- loved. He shared his own fears of them being apart, and how he knows how hard the coming days will be. He begged Chromedome to be kind to himself, because he- whether he believes it or not- has grown from the person he was in the New Institute.

As this message plays out, we see Drift swarmed by furious Autobots, who get violent as he makes his way off the Lost Light, only to be helped back to his feet by none other than Ratchet, before climbing into a shuttle, surely never to be seen again.

Shane McCarthy slipped Roberts a twenty to set up a slowburn between his OC and Ratchet all the way back in MTMTE #4. This is the start of the pining portion of their relationship.

God, just- there’s a reason Roberts has claimed this issue as one of his best, and it’s this fucking message. Please, if you somehow have gotten to this post without reading the comics- well, first, how, and second- go and READ THEM. I promise it’s worth it, they’re beautiful and funny and full of heart, even when everyone’s being a dick to each other.

Rewind leaves Chromedome with one final piece, which probably didn’t feel like enough, but was all he could manage in the time he had left.

I’m basically legally obligated to post this panel.

Let’s take a moment to consider Rewind as a character. He’s an archivist, and one who’s gotten very good at his job over the millennia. The guy’s OBSESSED with history, and recording as much of it as possible.

Which stands to reason that he knew about Chromedome’s past conjunx endurae. I mean, why wouldn’t he? It would be public record- even if you don’t necessarily get a marriage license on Cybertron, Chromedome would have been on the paperwork with these other guys somewhere, and the fact that he wouldn’t be able to answer the question of “Who’s this guy you lived with for several thousand years?” Would imply some… rather unfortunate things.

Rewind also has a hard time letting go of things- he gets jealous of Chromedome’s past relationship with Prowl any time it’s brought up, and he’s still looking for his ex-husband after what’s probably been at least a million years. That, combined with the way Rewind lives his life- you know, recording every single moment of it- gives me the impression that he really, really wouldn’t enjoy the idea of being forgotten. He wants Chromedome to stop injecting because it’ll kill him, of course he does, but he also wouldn’t want to be erased.

The video cuts off, leaving Chromedome alone. It’s all up to him now, whether Rewind gets to stay in his heart now.

Chromedome/Dominus is still on the table.

With THAT crisis of love dealt with, we move back on to that weird zombie nonsense we saw a little bit ago. Ultra Magnus is missing. Odd, that.

Ratchet, how many times are your patients going to have to disappear from your medibay before it’s less of a “them” problem, and more of a “you” problem?

As Ratchet goes off to search the rest of the ward, Tailgate accidentally bumps into the death clock, which gives him a nasty little surprise: apparently he’s only got three days to live.

Yeah, this is the point where the comic kicks into overdrive, plotwise- there are no brakes on this train anymore.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #issue 16 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #comic script writing

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aion-rsa · 3 years ago

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Black Widow Review: Marvel’s Most Feminine Film is a Brutal Action Movie

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Let’s be honest: Black Widow really should have had a movie before now. Natasha Romanoff (Scarlett Johansson) has been in the MCU since Iron Man 2 in 2010, she’s part of the original line up of Avengers, she’s one of the most popular characters in that Universe and is one of the few lead females. Oh, and she’s also now dead. It’s pretty shocking how Nat’s been treated. So her long awaited solo film, delayed even further by the pandemic, and the first Marvel movie out of the stable since lockdown, has quite a bit of heavy lifting to do.

Beginning with a flashback to 1995, then mainly set between Captain America: Civil War and Avengers: Infinity War, this is an extension of a backstory for Natasha but also a tale of resolution. It’s a chance for her to clean up her ledger and although we know that her journey won’t truly end until the events of Endgame, this is definitely her farewell, made all the more poignant with knowledge of what’s to come. It’s action packed, yes, but it’s also very funny, emotionally nuanced, and a different flavour for Marvel.

After a glimpse at Nat’s idyllic/traumatic childhood in an impressive pre-credits sequence, we’re back to 2016. Natasha is a fugitive, in violation of the Sokovia Accords, and on the run from General Thaddeus Ross (William Hurt). With help from her charming go-to guy Mason (O-T Fagbenle) she’s hiding out in a remote cabin in Norway convincing herself that after the Avengers’ “divorce” she’s better off alone. Peace doesn’t last long. A package sent from abroad and the sudden appearance of a relentless masked killing machine throws her back into the fray and into a mission which will reunite her with family and foes from the past.

With nods to James Bond and Jason Bourne, Black Widow is an espionage movie that’s rammed with epic set pieces and spans the globe, taking us from Ohio to Cuba, Morocco to Budapest and more. Planes are crashed, cars are flipped, things fall out of the sky… though it’s getting a simultaneous Disney+ release, this is a movie built for the big screen with stunt work and spectacle to match anything the MCU has done before. It looks great but it’s in the character dynamics that Black Widow really shines.

This is a movie about family and central to it is the relationship between Natasha and her estranged surrogate sister Yelena (Florence Pugh). Pugh is brilliant – sulky, witty, and full of resentment at Natasha’s abandonment. She’s an equally skilled fighter as her sister, but burdened with being the younger sibling of an Avenger who adorns magazine covers. The chemistry between her and Johansson is palpable and they make a formidable double act. Meanwhile their one-time ‘parents’ Melina (Rachel Weisz) and Alexei (David Harbour) are equally dysfunctional. She’s a former Widow, and current genius scientist/pig wrangler, he’s an overweight former super-soldier with ‘Karl Marx’ tattooed on his knuckles, and neither has nailed it at parenting.

Harbour is larger than life and gets some of the best lines – he views himself as the Soviet equivalent of Captain America and he’s the perfect counterpoint – disgusting, hilarious, overtly sexual, completely amoral, but also gloriously emotional when it comes to his ‘girls’.

We get to see another side of Nat too, suddenly in the presence of her folks, she’s vulnerable, she bickers with her sister, and her mother tells her off for slouching.

Set in the real world, away from the gods and aliens of the wider MCU, Black Widow is most akin to the Captain America sequels but with a sharp script from Eric Pearson, Jac Schaeffer, and Ned Benson and some very deliberate choices from director Cate Shortland (no spoilers), this is a more feminine film than we’ve seen from Marvel before. It’s not just that the most capable characters in the film are women, the whole film is packed top to bottom with female faces and some of the best gags are about fallopian tubes, clothes, and what a poser Natasha is, while our big baddie, Ray Winstone’s Dreykov, is a human man with too much power who treats women as commodities. Feminine doesn’t equate to gentle though. Black Widow has a high body count (albeit mostly off screen) and Dreykov could be one of the most purely nasty villains the MCU has ever seen.

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The movie has some of the usual Marvel Studios pitfalls. The final act is CGI heavy and convoluted, and for a gritty real-world movie, some of the falls Nat takes are almost as ridiculous as Ray Winstone’s Russian accent. But you’d have to be pretty hard of heart to have that as your main takeaway. We’ve waited way too long, but at last we have a Black Widow film that does Natasha justice. And though it feels like we were only just getting to know her, Black Widow gives Nat a legacy that could reach wide into the MCU and might just change it for the better.

Black Widow opens in cinemas on 7 July (UK) and 9 July (US) and is available at a premium on Disney+ from 9 July.

The post Black Widow Review: Marvel’s Most Feminine Film is a Brutal Action Movie appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3w4lK0S

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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ceealaina · 4 years ago

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Title: Man on the Run Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card: 4008 Link: AO3 Square Filled: R4 - Old Team Ship: Background Pepper/Nat, Background IronHusbands Rating: Teen Major Tags: Fluff and Humour, Team as Family, Post-Endgame, Fix-It Summary: Saving the world is important. But Tony really, really just wants to retire and spend time with his family. And if faking his death is the only way to do that, that's how it goes sometimes. Word Count: 1115

Everyone stood out on the property of the Stark Cabin, staring out at the water as they watched the wreath of flowers with the first arc reactor, the ‘proof that Tony has a heart’ disappear into the distance. Nobody spoke, hardly anyone even breathed, not wanting to address what was happening.

And then Steve sighed.

“This is stupid, Tony,” he announced loudly, breaking the strange hush. He looked directly at the man standing over by the tree, wearing a cowboy hat and Clark Kent glasses. His normally immaculate beard was filled in unevenly with what appeared to be magic marker, simulating thick, bushy sideburns that came to a point on his chin. “I can see you.”

“Nope,” Tony intoned, not even looking over at him. “I’m dead.”

In front of Steve, wearing sunglasses and holding a to-go cup of coffee, Jim Rhodes nodded. “Super dead,” he agreed.

“There, there, Colonel,” Tony called over to him. “I know Mr. Stark’s death was a particularly tragic loss for you.”

“Love of my life. Gone too soon,” Rhodey deadpanned. “And that’s Dr. Stark, thank you.”

Behind the ridiculous marker moustache, Steve caught Tony’s lips twitching up into a pleased grin. He sighed again, wondering if, in fact, he had died, and now he was in hell.

Steve had tried to appeal to Pepper beforehand. He got the point Tony was making; retirement hadn’t worked, the only way he was getting out of the superhero business and spending time with his daughter was if he “died” before it actually killed him. And maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised, considering Tony’s flare for the dramatic, but an entire funeral felt ridiculous to him. It wasn’t as though they didn’t all know that Tony was alive, and standing there, and that his “disguise” had been drawn on my Morgan -- the fact that she was sporting matching magic marker facial hair was a dead giveaway.

Pepper, however, had ignored Steve’s attempts at reason. Instead she looked back at him in that way that simultaneously terrified him and turned him on a little, and said, “How dare you, Captain. I’m a widow.”

And then, because apparently drama ran in the Iron Family, she’d shown up at Tony’s “funeral” in full black mourning wear, complete with a veil covering her face. Steve glanced over at her, standing on his far side, next to Nat.

“I still can’t believe you’re onboard with this,” he grumbled. “I thought you were supposed to be the sensible one!”

Pepper gave an unconcerned shrug, twining her fingers with Nat’s. “I’ve been saying being a hero would kill him for a decade. Did you expect me to pass up the opportunity to be right?”

Tony made a show of shuddering at that, hissing through his teeth. “Good thing I’m -- he’s -- already dead, ‘cause that burn would have cremated me -- him -- alive.”

Steve just rolled his eyes as Rhodey snickered, he and Tony sharing an air high five from three feet away. “I hate you all,” he grumbled.

Bucky gave him a pat on the back then, something that was probably supposed to seem comforting, but felt more like he was making fun of him. “I don’t really think you’re in a place to be calling anyone out, pal,” he pointed out. “You missed Pepper and Nat’s wedding.”

Steve groaned for what felt like the millionth time that day. “I thought that was a joke!”

He really had. The invitation had arrived only a day after he’d come back from returning the Infinity Stones with Nat in tow. He hadn’t even known they were together; how was he supposed to know they were actually getting married? It wasn’t until the next day that he’d found out that not only had it not been a joke, but that everyone had been there -- including the recently deceased Tony. Thor had married them because, as Nat had told Steve later, “Married under god, married by a god. It’s like world peace.” Steve had no idea what that meant.

(Bucky, apparently, had taken Sam. He’d found the whole thing delightful.)

“Rude,” Nat told him noq, standing on tiptoe to give Pepper a quick kiss. “I know it was fast, but missed opportunities and all that.”

Pepper gave her new wife a besotted smile, sweet enough to make even Steve calm down a little. And then she ruined it with, “Besides, with Tony’s death, it was better to get remarried ASAP. Helps with the inheritance and stocks issues.”

Steve was pretty sure that wasn’t even right, but he wasn’t going to waste time arguing.

***

Later, when the service was finished and they’d moved inside for the reception, which had rapidly devolved into a party, Steve couldn’t seem to stop himself from watching Tony. He watched as he passed Morgan off to Happy, giving her a long, long hug before she headed off for her nap. He watched the quiet moment he shared with Pepper, the less quiet kiss that he shared with Rhodey, the way he comforted Peter when he caught him crying in the corner because, “I know it’s not real, Mr. Stark, but it could be.”

He lost him after that, drawn into a debate between Sam and Bucky over the difference between lox and smoked salmon. After that he ducked out onto the porch for a breath of fresh air, and then suddenly Tony was at his elbow, Steve’s super serum reflexes the only thing keeping him from jumping out of his skin -- not that he was going to tell him that.

“You alright, Cap?” he asked, and he was laughing but there was something softer around his eyes now. Steve noticed the way he rubbed at his right arm, full mobility not yet returned. “You’re seeming a little off, and I know this level of shenanigans isn’t your usual scene.”

“No, I'm fine,” he insisted, trying to play it off. But maybe Peter had something, because the next moment he was grabbing Tony’s arm -- his good one -- to keep him from walking away. “I’m just really glad you’re here, Tony.”

Tony grinned, but he settled his other hand over Steve’s, rubbing against his skin in the way Steve imagined he might soothe Morgan after a nightmare. “Me too,” he told him, honestly. “But don’t worry, Cap. Fake funeral aside, I’m not going anywhere any time soon.” He looked at him seriously for a long moment, and then broke out into a bright grin. “Besides. I know you’re not Captain America anymore, and I know I’m technically dead now, but I’m still available for consulting.” He grinned wide, offering Steve a wink. “My office hours are between eight and five every other Thursday.”

@tonystarkbingo

#tonystarkbingomarkiv #tsbmiv #steve rogers #tony stark #james rhodes #pepper potts #natasha romanoff #post-endgame #fix-it #fluff and humour #team as family #crack treated seriously #background relationships #fic #my fic

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7-wonders · 5 years ago

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Money, Power, and Glory

Summary: The sordid history of Duncan’s rise to the top, and hand-to-hand combat lessons that lead to other activities.

Word Count: 3855

A/N: Hello and welcome to another chapter of Memento Mori! I hope everyone’s had a fantastic holiday season. As my belated gift to you all, this chapter includes what everyone’s been waiting for: SMUT. A big thanks to my lovely angel @divinelangdon for letting me spitball ideas at her at any time of day, and to @lvngdvns for inserting the original ‘what if’ into the minds of this fandom.

Warnings: Murder, mafia, drugs, fighting, sex; what you would usually expect from a story about a mob boss.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

By all accounts, Duncan Shepherd is not a man known for showing emotion, unless that emotion is sadistic pleasure gained at the expense of others’ well-being. Nobody would describe Duncan Shepherd as patient or helpful, a gentleman or a teacher. Instead, Duncan Shepherd is often referred to as cruel, vicious, heartless, and bloodthirsty, to name a few. But most of all, Duncan Shepherd would not be described as weak.

Duncan’s proud of the reputation that he’s cultivated through his few short years as the official “head” of the Shepherd family. However much he hates to acknowledge it, he has his strict upbringing to thank for that.

An absent father who died when Duncan was barely old enough to walk, followed by rumors that the supposed grieving widow was the one who ‘accidentally’ gave her husband too many sleeping pills mixed with a hearty glass of aged bourbon with the endgame of joining her brother and building the Shepherd name into one of the most powerful monikers in Washington D.C. Being passed off from nanny to nanny, his mother and uncle too busy climbing their way up the elitist ladder to take care of the sole heir to the elaborate empire they were crafting.

The Shepherd family had always been wealthy, but the wealth became exorbitant upon Annette and Bill’s foray into the underbelly of the city’s privileged class. Suddenly, Duncan was shipped off to the best boarding school in North America, with business and political skills instilled in him from the very beginning of his enrollment at the Andover Preparatory School (along with how to dodge punches and how to go on a coke binge and still show up for your 8 a.m. looking none the worse). Prep school was difficult, but it was much more preferable than being around his uncle.

Duncan’s met a lot of douchebags through his close association with the GOP, but Bill Shepherd embodies toxic masculinity. For a man so fond of collared shirts and quarter zip pullovers, he knew just how to emasculate even the most confident of men with a few well-shot insults. For his detested nephew, however, “a few” insults was a daily occurrence that could be counted on with the regularity of the rise and fall of the sun. The physical aspect of Bill’s temperament, slapping and punching and the feeling of his fingers digging into Duncan’s jaw as he commands him to “use your empty, good-for-nothing brain and just listen to me, god damn it,” marred Duncan’s late teen years.

His uncle saw him as a threat. Even if Duncan wasn’t able to discern that himself from the increasing beatdowns, whether physical or verbal, as he reached adulthood, his mother was sure to remind him of that fact whenever he was younger and would come crying to her about the mean things that Uncle Bill had said to him. If he closes his eyes, he can still feel her hand carding through his light brown locks and her soft voice reminding him that everything under the control of the Shepherd name would be his one day, regardless of what her brother said. She never confronted Bill about the abuse, but she had tried, in her own fucked-up way.

Ultimately, Duncan has Bill to thank for his rise to the top of the Shepherd Freedom Foundation, Gardner Analytics, Shepherd Unlimited, and, of course, the Shepherd family itself. It was Bill who accosted Duncan after the young Shepherd had gotten into a gunfight with a rival group that had attempted to blindside him on his first solo meeting to restake territory claims over the different wards of Washington D.C. It was Bill who grabbed Duncan by the collar of his bloodstained black shirt, throttling him and bitterly spitting out that he would never be a “true” Shepherd. It was Bill who took a swing at Duncan, a horrified Annette frozen with fear across the room.

And, in the end, it was Bill who was too slow to react to Duncan pulling a knife out in retaliation and jabbing it into his uncle’s abdomen. Annette had screamed, but Duncan had hardly heard her over the sound of his blood roaring in his ears as he stared at his hands, soaked in the blood of his uncle who was on the floor and gasping for his last breaths. Duncan’s Goliath was finally slain, dead on the floor with blood slowly spilling out from the stab wound. His first murder had been his most difficult, and while the easiness of ending somebody’s life scared him, the fact that Duncan enjoyed killing his uncle frightened him the most.

It had been all too easy to frame Bill Shepherd’s death as a robbery-gone-wrong. Annette, already shaken from seeing her brother stabbed to death by her son, had been able to pull on years of experience with lying through her teeth to recount to police the harrowing ordeal of how she came to the building that housed the various Shepherd businesses only to see Bill bleeding out in his office. With the notability of the victim and the million dollars that had been stolen from the busted safe behind the bookshelf (in reality, the money was funneled into one of the family’s many offshore accounts, but that was neither here nor there), the case was textbook open-and-shut.

The “grieving” Shepherds had publicly vowed that their figurehead’s death would not be in vain. They would build on his legacy, just as he would have wanted. Behind closed doors, Annette had begrudgingly admitted that Duncan was in the right when he shoved a blade into Bill’s stomach, especially upon seeing just how capable of leading Duncan was. More money, more power, more territory, more influence: the more the Shepherd family became a name at the forefront of every conversation about the VIPs of Washington D.C., the more determined Duncan was to reach the top. He would stop at nothing to be better than his uncle, to prove to him one last time that he was more of a man than Bill Shepherd, cold and rotting six feet under, could ever be.

So maybe people are right when they refer to Duncan Shepherd as a callous, cruel, bloodthirsty, monster of a mob boss. But Duncan is certainly not weak.

Why, then, does he feel so weak when he’s around (Y/N)? The woman shouldn’t even warrant a passing thought, not when Duncan has far more important matters to be dealing with. He should have killed her; it would have been far easier, and created less of a lasting effect (for Duncan, at least). Yet, when he heard about how she nearly scaled a wall when attempting to run from some of his men, and when he saw the fire blazing in her big eyes as she spit at him when he tried to touch her face, he knew he couldn’t.

Duncan’s found it impossible to stop thinking about last week’s shooting lesson. How she looked to him for guidance on what, to Duncan, is the most basic of tasks. Her defiant comments that make him angry while simultaneously making him chuckle. Her wide smile when she hit the target. The smell of her hair as Duncan loomed behind her to check her sight.

The way that her body slotted perfectly against his when he closed his hands on top of hers.

Duncan’s stirred out of his unusually soft reverie by the chiming of his phone. An email notification from one of his tech employees shows on the screen, the subject line warning him of an extended search of his name and family in the metropolitan area. It may sound conceited, but any search taking place within a 30 mile radius lasting longer than a few minutes carries with it the potential of a threat against the empire that Duncan has so carefully built. He’s sure it’s nothing, but clicks on the email just to be certain.

His eyes scan quickly over the contents of the message, noting the IP address and the approximate length of said search. The IP address traces back to a physical residence, the location of which makes Duncan smirk. It’s (Y/N), and he has no doubt that he’s been on her mind just as much as she’s been on his. Finding her file (because of course Duncan Shepherd is going to have an extensive file for every person he’s ever interacted with) on his computer, he types her number into his phone and sends her a short text.

“Training tomorrow, 3 p.m., same location as last week. Oh, and the next time you’re interested in learning more about me, you need only ask. -D.S.”

The embarrassment of knowing that Duncan Shepherd knew that (Y/N) was searching for information about him still controls her emotions as she readies herself to once again meet the notorious mob boss. She thinks she would rather die than see the triumph that sparkles in his crystal blue eyes of the knowledge that she cannot stop thinking about him.

In (Y/N)’s defense, it was merely an informative search. Not being from the area, she figured that it would be a good idea to learn a little bit more about the man she is now indebted to for the foreseeable future. What she had learned was sad and brutal, but also what she expected. Wikipedia described a rich boy who was coddled until he was old enough to receive a position at the top of one of his family’s companies, while the gossip tabloids loved to speculate on the true amount of wealth that the family possesses. Forbes Magazine called him a bright, young entrepreneur whose tenacity was forged out of the tragedy of his uncle’s murder, and the Washington Herald painted a compelling narrative of various criminal activities and how they lined up with events in the rise of the Shepherd family.

(It’s probably no coincidence that, shortly after the three-part investigative story had been released, the Herald’s editor-in-chief, Tom Hammerschmidt, was found floating face-down in the Potomac river with a bullet lodged in his head. The official cause of death was ruled a suicide, but the popular rumor is that a furious Annette demanded his murder.)

She could skip today’s proposed “training” with Duncan, but that’s useless when he knows where she lives and can quite literally kill her for refusing his demand, so she slips on a pair of black workout leggings and a purple-and-white patterned sports bra.Throwing a sweatshirt on, (Y/N) quickly grabs a water bottle and her phone before rushing out the door so as not to be late. Although she doesn’t know much about Duncan’s personality, she assumes that he hates people who are late.

The man in question is waiting inside the doors of the high-end training gym when (Y/N) enters, slightly out of breath from nearly running to make it in time. A small smile starts to spread across his face as he appraises her outfit, and (Y/N) self-consciously crosses her arms over her chest.

“Sorry that my clothes aren’t right off the runway like yours,” (Y/N) says as she gestures to Duncan’s figure. While he’s wearing workout clothes as well, his joggers and zip-up hoodie carry an air of wealth with them.

“They’ll do.” (Y/N) huffs as Duncan spins on his heel, repeating the same procedure as the last time they were here in order to get through the private door.

There’s training mats set up in the open area next to the shooting range, and Duncan waits until (Y/N) places her stuff against the wall before walking to a bench and grabbing a roll of athletic tape. “We’re not doing shooting training today?” (Y/N) asks.

“No, I feel like you have a pretty good grip on shooting. Today I’m going to teach you how to fight, as that will most likely be what will happen if you do get into an altercation while under my orders.”

“When am I not going to be under your orders?” She rolls her eyes as she pretends not to watch Duncan take off his hoodie and reveal his strong, muscular arms. (Y/N) realizes that she’s never seen Duncan in shirts that didn’t have long sleeves, the monochromatic tattoos that decorate his skin coming as a bit of a shock.

“Once I decide that there’s enough to implicate you in crimes as well, if you were to ever run to the police.” She scoffs as he holds out his hand. “Give me your hand.”

She shouldn’t talk back, she knows, but she’s feeling defiant after hearing just how Duncan plans to keep her quiet. “Why?”

“This tape isn’t for me.” Giving her hand over, (Y/N) watches as Duncan swiftly wraps her wrist, checking the support of the tape on the joint before repeating the process on her other wrist. “This will help make sure you don’t injure anything. While the main goal today is to make sure you know how to take down an opponent, I also want to know that you know how to effectively punch somebody.”

Duncan lets go of her hands, and (Y/N) takes off her own sweatshirt before joining him in the center of the training mat. He’s conspicuously not looking at her chest, and (Y/N) bites back a laugh at the polite behavior of the crime lord before her. “Hold your hand out in a fist,” Duncan commands.

His eyes are narrowed in calculation as he studies her fist, adjusting her thumb so it’s on top of the space between the first and second knuckles of her index and middle fingers. He’s a good teacher, and he explains his reasoning as he makes adjustments, “you never want to have your thumb tucked inside your fist. You’re almost guaranteed to break your thumb that way.”

“Thumb on the outside, got it.”

Duncan steps back, holding his arm up with his palm facing (Y/N). “Punch my hand.”

“What?” (Y/N) looks at him warily. “I’m not going to punch you! What if I hurt you?”

“I promise you won’t hurt me,” Duncan says with a laugh. “Now punch.”

(Y/N) squares her shoulders, rearing her arm back before punching Duncan’s hand as hard as she can. He nods, and she punches once more, this time with her other fist. “I’m impressed,” Duncan says, “you punch really well.”

“I’ve taken a couple of self-defense classes in the past. They didn’t teach punching, but they did teach how to throw your weight into your hits.” Duncan’s eyes flash with a hint of pride, and (Y/N)’s chest uncharacteristically clenches at the thought of making him proud.

“Great, then we don’t need to work too much on that. Unwrap your wrists and we’ll practice some sparring.”

It seems like a good part of her life lately is following Duncan’s directions, but (Y/N) complies anyways. Duncan’s joggers look like they were tailored specifically for him, his black tank top showcasing the tattoos (Y/N) had found herself staring at earlier. This time, Duncan does notice. “Do you like my tattoos?” Duncan asks with a smirk.

“I just--you don’t seem like the type of person to have tattoos,” (Y/N) stutters.

He quirks an eyebrow in amusement. “I’m a mob boss.”

“Still don’t seem like you’d have tattoos,” she mutters before placing her hands on her hips. “What’s the goal here?”

“The goal is to take me down. When you’ve had me on my back for five seconds, today’s training will be over. However, there will be no dirty moves, got it?”

“But kicking someone in the balls is okay if I’m fighting an attacker, right?”

“Yes, but not in a practice scenario.” Duncan starts to slowly circle (Y/N), watching as her spine stiffens under his gaze. “I suppose I should warn you that I will not make this easy for you. You will be fighting to win, not fighting to learn.”

(Y/N) nods, turning to stop Duncan from pacing around her. He takes two steps back, standing in a defensive stance as (Y/N) attempts to get a feel for how to spar. She snaps her arm towards Duncan suddenly, in an attempt to catch him by surprise, but the man simply blocks it with a quick dodge.

The punch leaves (Y/N) defenseless, and Duncan lunges forward to shove her. He would never actually punch her; he’s been trained in combat since he was 10, and she learned to throw a proper punch 10 minutes ago. It would be unfair of him to swing at her, so Duncan settles for pushing her instead.

(Y/N) attempts to regain her footing, but Duncan’s too quick. His arm wraps around her neck in a chokehold, and (Y/N) gasps for air as she tries to wriggle out of his grasp. Avoiding panicking, (Y/N) thinks desperately to the aforementioned self-defense classes, trying to remember any of the acronyms the instructor swore would save the class’s lives one day.

Rearing her arm towards her body, (Y/N) swings her elbow back as hard as she can to elbow Duncan in the stomach. He releases her with a pained groan, obviously not expecting that move, and she turns around and kicks at his leg.

“Fuck you,” Duncan gasps out, stumbling backwards but refusing to fall.

“Fuck you!” (Y/N) retorts. “You tried to choke me out!”

“And I warned you beforehand what you were getting into.” The two move warily, neither person wanting to make the next move. (Y/N)’s eyes crackle with anger, and Duncan grins wildly at the fierce expression she wears.

He swings once again, (Y/N) dodging before punching him in the chest. Duncan seizes the opportunity to sweep her leg with a well-placed kick, and (Y/N) goes falling to the mat with a thud. She inhales heavily, trying to get her lungs to work again after having the air knocked out of them. (Y/N)’s barely able to scramble backwards before Duncan is on top of her, his legs straddling her waist as his hands pin her wrists above her head.

Chests heaving, both Duncan and (Y/N) glare at each other as he waits for her to give in, but she refuses to admit defeat. She becomes acutely aware of the fact that Duncan is pinning her down to the mat with his weight, his strong hips against hers making movement impossible. It’s borderline-indecent, and (Y/N) chides herself for finding being held to the ground any shade of arousing. Although she can’t tell if she wants to kick him or kiss him right now, she knows that Duncan feels the same when he glances from her eyes to her lips, and back again.

“Can you get off of me?” The end of (Y/N)’s sentence is muffled as Duncan presses his lips to hers.

The shock of being kissed by the man who just defeated her at sparring quickly wears off as (Y/N) eagerly reciprocates the action, feverishly kissing him back. Her hands flex in Duncan’s grasp, desperate to grab onto any part of him as a way to ground herself. Duncan refuses to acquiesce, so she brings one leg up to the back of his knee and applies as much weight to the vulnerable area as she can.

“Ah!” Duncan groans, the buckling of his knee giving (Y/N) the opportunity to flip them over. Now it’s she who has the upper hand, grinding her hips down harshly on him as she kisses him once more. Duncan licks at her bottom lip, attempting to gain access to (Y/N)’s mouth and getting frustrated when she refuses to let him slip his tongue into her mouth. He’s done playing nice, and nips at (Y/N)’s bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. He moans when the copper taste of blood hits his tongue, (Y/N) pulling away and panting harshly.

“You fucking asshole, that hurt!” Duncan just chuckles, flipping them over once again and roughly yanking her leggings and underwear down her legs. (Y/N) lets out a surprised moan when Duncan’s finger runs over her clit, collecting some of her burgeoning arousal and using it to slide effortlessly into her cunt.

(Y/N) is not the type of person to engage in casual sex with a person she hardly knows. She’s not even sure she’s had an actual one night stand before; the couple times that she had, it’s been with somebody she knew fairly well. So to be under the most dangerous man she’s ever met, his fingers buried inside her as he works her open, is certainly unlike her. It would, however, be impossible to deny that she’s not thoroughly enjoying this endeavor.

One hand grabs at Duncan’s bicep, and (Y/N) briefly admires the elegant script inked into his skin. Her other hand goes to grab at his sizable bulge, gripping onto his erection as roughly as he’s currently fingering her. Duncan lets out a choked groan at the sensation that’s both painful and pleasurable. Once he’s decided that neither party can handle the tension any longer, he withdraws his fingers from her cunt and pulls down his pants.

After (Y/N) gives his shaft a couple of quick strokes, Duncan lines himself up with her entrance and thrusts into (Y/N)’s tight walls. Matching moans ring out through the training room as Duncan begins to set a quick and deep rhythm. (Y/N)’s hips snap upwards, meeting Duncan’s as the two thrust in tandem. Every other sound, feeling, or experience fades away as Duncan continually bottoms out in (Y/N)’s cunt, his balls slapping against her ass. Her head lolls back against the ground, giving her the perfect chance to admire Duncan’s lustful expression and how his hair falls into his face with each sharp roll of his hips.

(Y/N)’s head begins to spin as Duncan’s rhythm begins to stutter upon nearing his orgasm, and she bites down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder in an attempt to muffle a scream as she cums unexpectedly. He cries out at the sharp pressure of her bite and the fluttering of her walls, speeding up his thrusts before pulling out and tapping at (Y/N)’s bottom lip with the swollen head of his cock.

She turns her head towards him, eyes glazed with lust as she opens her mouth. Duncan only needs to thrust into his fist a few times before he cums in (Y/N)’s mouth with a deep groan. Her lips are painted white with his seed, and he nearly cums again when she licks it all up before swallowing with a content hum. Duncan collapses next to (Y/N), whose bones feel as if they’re made of Jell-o. As they both come down from their highs, (Y/N) has only one thought on her mind: What the hell did they just do?

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#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd imagines #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd smut #hoc #hoc imagine #hoc imagines #house of cards #house of cards imagine #ahs #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse imagine

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sometimesrosy · 5 years ago

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I'm kinda worried what backlash the creators crew and cast are gonna get when CL doesn't happen no matter what the ending is so many of them have built up this unrealistic vision of time travelling and bring back Lxa and so many of them actually believe it's gonna happen. Like I've being there when I watched fantasy shows which have had revival hoping for my fave to come back but this show is closer rooted in reality Alycia has made it quite clear she wants to be seen as something other than Lxa

I mean it’s obvious they’re going to be upset again. Maybe there will be mentions again and that will gratify them?

IDK. I don’t think there’s anything other than completely reversing a four year death with her miraculosly coming back... or having Clarke die and them meeting int he afterlife/anomaly maybe.

I HATE that concept. That a woman should die for “fated love.” That’s like what they did when they threw the widow onto the funeral pyre for the husband. Like women don’t COUNT outside of the relationship.

But this is not a logical reaction that they’re having wanting a CL endgame. And they’re doing it again where people on the internet push this ending THAT IS NOT IN THE STORY.

It doesn’t matter if “death is not the end” is a canon saying. That doesn’t mean that they can do an undead thing, or even a heaven thing. We’ve SEEN this on this show. Undead means drug addicted reapers. Coming back to life means Clarke was saved by nightblood and survived alone on a dead earth. Part of the story. Immortality MEANS the flame, and the COL. Even the Primes constant rebooting into another body.

Lxa survived her death to find her immortality in the flame. She was never going to come back to life. When Clarke went into the COL, she met L, who saved her, and she got to say what she needed. Then Madi took the flame and we could contact them again, and rather than living again, L was able to send messages through Madi to Clarke, allowing L to apologize, say she was wrong and keep Clarke from making the same mistake. L is, at this point, closer to a GHOST than being ready to come back to life. Madi was the medium that allowed those in the afterlife to speak to the living. And then the flame was destroyed. It came out of Madi dead.

Everyone saw this, right? It happened. Pretending that Lxa and Becca and all the heda’s but Sheidheda aren’t destroyed doesn’t do anyone any good.

When the canon josses your theory, you have to let it go.

I mean, maybe there will be a heaven, but their magic and religion and spirituality has all seemed to be tied to technology. The likelihood of a Lxa resurrection is very slight. MAYBE something could happen in the anomaly. But having a possibility is not enough to make it part of the story.

The possibility of a CL endgame is, I have to say, zero. The story is not there. Unless the ditch the entire storyline that had Clarke move on, and call Bellamy 2199days, not L, and be jealous of B/E and look longingly at B, and go on and on about how she cares for B and how he’s important to her etc, and really look at L as someone from her past, tragic yes, beloved yes, but over, then that can’t happen.

If people attack over that, then. there’s nothing to be done. It’s not based on the story, it’s about what’s going on in their own lives, their own head and their fandom.

It’s out of anyone’s control.

#the 100 #fandom

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arigatouiris · 5 years ago

Text

daughter of artemis || p.p — [02]

c h a p t e r t w o

Pairing: Peter Parker x Demigod! Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; greek mythology rewritten [completely my interpretation of it, oops]; slightly based off the games god of war and assassin’s creed odyssey; hurt/comfort; cliche; fluff [on later chapters sometimes]; mentions of sex and gore; slight alternate universe

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe.

Author’s Note: Killing the links because, no notes means no motivation to update. Let’s hope~

Word count: 4518

02 // κόκκινο red

(y/n) could smell the dust through an incomprehensible distance. In her heart, she knew they were people; the prophecy rang so loudly in her head that she felt she was bleeding by the ear, steam blowing off her ear holes with a massive speed. Her eyes were far too dry to well tears in them, but she hoped and prayed the burning in her eyelids would stop. She walked on the empty streets, hoping to see one face—just one; but none to her avail. This is what the Oracle meant when she said the fates would go into slumber, this would last five years—she wasn’t even sure if five years meant five years. Oracles were known to throw out terms that may mean something else entirely once it happens.

She thought of May Parker, the woman who helped patch her up the day before. Her hand instinctively went to her left hip, the wound had stopped hurting as much as it did, having been sprayed with anti-bacteria and new bandages. When (y/n) swallowed, she was sure it was just drying saliva now; no more blood. Turning around, she walked back to the shelter, her head hung low, wondering if she was the only one alive.

She thought of Spiderman, the teenage superhero; she thought of how he had desperately helped her and brought her to the shelter. She had honestly believed she could have stayed there for a while before going forward and finding Pepper or whoever it was. Rubbing a hand through her hair, she stopped by the entrance of the shelter and blinked.

She swore she saw a silhouette. Her eyes widened just a bit, before chasing after this image—finding a man, old enough to be her grandfather, staring at her.

“Don’t be afraid, I… I don’t understand what’s going on. People here… People have… Oh dear…” He broke down into tears after laying eyes on (y/n), who stood motionless on witnessing another living person apart from herself.

“Are there others?” She asked, cursing internally when her voice came out as just a whisper.

The man nodded, before guiding her to another room—the large banquet hall where more beds were arranged. There was a great deal of dust here as well, but the rest were people. (y/n) squinted her eyes and it seemed almost mathematical; this disappearance confused her, it was as if only half of the shelter was gone.

The rest of them were across several ages. From elderly women to middle aged men, it was almost random.

“We don’t know what happened, but May’s gone and… the others are just…” One woman spoke up, and (y/n) nodded.

“There was this huge spaceship thing in the city, the Avengers were trying to fend off whatever it was. A lot of destruction over there too.” Another man spoke up.

“A… A spaceship?” (y/n) couldn’t put the two words together. “What’s… Who are the Avengers?”

The people there just looked at her like she was an outsider; which she was. The man who guided her into the hall placed a hand on her shoulder and offered her a soft smile.

“Are you not from around here?”

It felt like deja vu at this instant. With these people being so shocked over her not knowing the Avengers and Spiderman being shocked with her not knowing who he was, it felt as if it was all connected.

“No, I’m… I’m new to town. What a time to be here, huh.” She said, dryly.

There was a great deal of confusion among the people, as one of them explained to her who the Avengers were. A team led by a very rich man, Tony Stark, and Captain America. She didn’t know who they were, but knew Captain America to an extent, having heard rumors of an incredibly strong mortal. Even among the Gods, he was mistaken to be a demigod, but was later confirmed was merely an experiment the mortals conducted on themselves.

“What do we do now?”

“We wait.” The woman told (y/n).

❅

Two days passed in an eerie silence. Some members of the shelter cleaned out the dust as much as they could, not completely sure if it was the remains of the lost ones. Television and media started covering the events, as the remaining Avengers gave statements to the press on what happened. However, a strange visitor arrived at the shelter’s doorstep, asking for May Parker.

(y/n) sat at her bed, and wondered where she saw the woman who entered the hall. She had striking red hair, red hair she swore she had seen before—not sure where. She was beautiful, but there was a calmness about her that screamed sorrow; the events following the decimation brought about a stark hollowness in her features. She introduced herself as Natasha Romanoff, but the rest of the shelter knew her as Black Widow, one of the Avengers.

“Is May Parker…?” Her voice broke at the end.

Only silence followed her question. Not one dared to look at Natasha in the eye, not one dared to answer. It was not fear that prevented them from talking, it was a sort of ignorance—it was as if they didn’t want her to be here, as if they blamed her for everything that occurred.

“She’s gone.” (y/n) spoke, aloud, bringing Natasha’s attention to hers.

Natasha’s face hardened for a brief second, before nodding once.

“Can you tell us what happened?” (y/n) seemed to be the only one who was willing to talk to her.

“There’s a… A creature named Thanos. Using the power of the Infinity Stones, which are very very powerful stones capable of destroying planets with just a snap of a finger, he… He used them to erase half the population in the universe.”

“Why?” This time, it was the old man who asked.

“His reason was to… To restore balance to the universe. We tried to stop him, but…”

“You failed.” A woman finished.

Natasha bit her lip before looking to the ground. (y/n) looked at the woman who was intentionally hostile to the Avenger, and turned back to Natasha.

“You tried.”

This brought about everyone’s attention. Natasha looked at the 13-year old before gulping. She didn’t want credit; she didn’t want someone to believe in her, let alone a child, who may have lost her entire family.

“Um,” Natasha waited for (y/n) to finish. “Did Spiderman also…?”

“We don’t know for sure… But, possibly.”

(y/n) took a sharp intake of breath before turning away. He had saved her life and had turned to dust. Half of her mind wondered if this happened only because she came to New York. But, she knew that if she began blaming herself at this second, there would be dire consequences she would have to face on her own later.

When silence ensued Natasha’s explanation about this creature Thanos who wiped out half the life in the universe, she decided it was her cue to leave. Nodding once at the ground, the red haired fighter walked away, with no one interrupting her abrupt leaving; no one cared to tell her anything positive, there was no positive to begin with. However, (y/n) had seen Natasha somewhere, her red hair and apparent feisty spirit, which was now overshadowed with the misery Thanos had brought forth for everyone, (y/n) was certain she had seen her somewhere. But, she didn’t and couldn’t place her finger on it.

Immediately, the 13-year old chased after Natasha, and stood a couple of steps behind her. The woman noticed a presence behind her and paused, only to meet (y/n)’s gaze.

“I… I don’t blame you. It’s not you.” (y/n) said, wondering if Natasha could pick up on her broken consolation.

Natasha smiled bitterly, “I wish it was, it’d be easier to digest.”

She turned around and faced (y/n) head on now, knowing full well that there was going to be a conversation that would ensue. The redhead gestured for the girl to follow her, and led her to the terrace, which (y/n) followed wordlessly.

“Did you… Did you lose your family to the snap?” Natasha asked, carefully.

“No, not to this. My mother passed away a while ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Natasha’s voice was dry. One couldn’t make out if she meant it or just said it because she had to.

“And your father?” She asked, turning to the girl, standing beside her at the edge of the roof, overlooking the street.

“I don’t know who my father is. She never spoke about him, my mother. I came here looking for him… I had one clue, but now things are bleak. I don’t even know if he’s alive after this.” (y/n) didn’t want to give too much away.

Natasha nodded. “So you were alone to begin with.”

One could have taken her words with offense, but (y/n) found it strangely comforting. Smiling bitterly, she turned to Natasha and looked at her red hair. She was beautiful, so so beautiful, but also very familiar. Was it because she was famous as an Avenger? (y/n) couldn’t lie, she hadn’t ever heard of the Avengers when she was in Olympus. So, that wasn’t the possibility.

“I once believed staying alone is far easier when you have a family. That way, you won’t lose anyone, you won’t need to worry about protecting them or risking their lives. It’s easier because there’s literally no responsibility, and therefore, no weakness,” Natasha said, looking over an almost empty New York.

“That’s right, though. Isn’t it?”

Nat chuckled, “No. Not at all. It’s all that matters, family. It’s what makes you strong, it’s what makes you want to fight. Dead or alive, it’s family that makes you want to fight. Family is what makes you brave.”

(y/n) never thought of it that way. Turning to the red haired woman, she blinked a couple of times, earning a strange look from her. Natasha leaned sideways against the railing and grinned at her.

“I won’t tell you to be positive at a time like this. I came here to check up on—”

“May Parker. I know. I’m glad I could meet you.” (y/n) said, finding an eerie sense of familiarity with Natasha Romanoff.

“Likewise. What’s your name?”

“(y/n).”

“I’ve always found comfort in being alone. Ever since losing my mother, it’s all I knew.” (y/n) said, looking directly at her. Natasha nodded once before trying to say something, and swallowing her words.

“I was always alone too,” She thought briefly of the red room, and how long it took her to begin cleaning her ledger. “But now I have a family to fight for. And I’ll keep looking for ways to bring them back.”

“Was Spiderman an Avenger?” (y/n) asked, blinking.

“He might as well be. Were you close?”

(y/n) shook her head, but stopped midway. “He… He tried to help me when no one else did. That was real… It was real superhero of him to try.”

The two chuckled as (y/n) said those words. Patting the girl’s shoulder twice, Nat turned to leave. “I hope your father is alive.” I hope Tony’s alive, Natasha prayed internally, before walking away.

“Natasha,” (y/n) called out just before the woman had left, “If it takes long, don’t give up.”

Nat blinked, confused. “What do you—”

“Your family is worth the wait. Don’t give up.” (y/n) said, grimly.

Nat blinked, eyes serious and almost wide, before turning to walk away. It was strange, meeting a random girl who was alone, but perhaps, there was a reason why Natasha met someone who reminded her of herself.

❅

(y/n) had never seen the sunset from anywhere but Phokis. She remembered her mother sitting beside her as they drank hot chai, stags and deer grazing by the temple area. Her mother enjoyed silence, and with (y/n) being there, the two could almost communicate with unsaid words. (y/n), right then, on the terrace of the shelter, pictured her mother’s silhouette against the sunset, and missed her. (y/n) missed her mother with almost every thought, and every breath, it was as if nothing made sense now that she was certain her mother was dead.

Breathing out, (y/n) closed her eyes and pictured her mother; her hair flying wildly in the wind, a soft smile playing on her lips, her eyes lost in some transfixed daydream only she knew about. Sometimes, Artemis would hum a song (y/n) had never heard, and wondered if it were a song only mortals would sing.

Looking at the sunset on her own, it felt funny now that (y/n) was there by herself. Her heart ached for the past, yet now there was no telling what she ached for more; balance for the world, or this Thanos to undo whatever it was that he did.

“You’ve changed,” She heard a voice beside her, but she didn’t turn.

“I’ll find out who killed her.” (y/n) told Apollo, who magically appeared by her side.

Apollo could see anything the light touches; his reach was far greater than Zeus, and he often used this to his advantage. It wasn’t as if he suddenly loved his niece, but whether he liked it or not, she was the only reminder of his lost sister. She was her daughter, and there was no changing it. And Artemis would have wanted her daughter protected against Zeus’ wrath.

“It’s a mystery.” Apollo’s voice came out as a whisper. He looked at his niece, staring into the sun, looking almost lost in thought, similar to how his sister would be.

“Since when have you been so okay with not knowing what happened to her?” (y/n) snaps, turning to face her uncle’s confused expression.

Suddenly, (y/n) thought of Natasha, of what she said about family. She took a hard long look at Apollo and saw all that restricted him from finding out who killed his sister. He was a God, a God with responsibilities, a God who was loved and revered by almost everyone in Greece, a Midgardian God responsible for the light of the sun and the harmony among the people. To forgo all of this would mean giving up everything the human beings believed in, and there was no way Apollo could allow himself to do it; even if it meant forgoing trying to find out who killed his sister.

But, nothing stopped her. Nothing stopped (y/n) from pushing forward and figuring things out.

“She was my family, and I owe it to her to try.” (y/n)’s words were as sharp as her gaze, against the sunlight, Apollo almost found it too bright.

“What do you know? Where will you begin?”

Her mother had told her never to reveal the dagger, but her mother was dead. (y/n) had no idea if her mother knew she would die after, or if it was all a surprise to her as well; but with one intention in her mind, (y/n) would try as much as she could. Pulling out the dagger from a pouch on her right hip, (y/n) displayed it on both her hands to Apollo.

“She asked me not to tell anyone about this dagger.” (y/n) said, her voice low.

Apollo’s eyes instantly widened upon seeing the artefact in his niece’s hand. He wanted to pull the knife off her hands, but he knew if he wasn’t careful, he could get hurt. Apollo was gifted with arrows, not daggers, and he hated them; however, he recognized this blade. He knew what it was.

“This was your mother’s,” He said, almost gasping.

Did she knew about the prophecy beforehand? He thought, as he looked at his niece put the blade back inside. The inscriptions on the dagger were in ancient Greek, signs he could read very well. Signs that foretold the end of Zeus’ reign. He didn’t want to tell his niece what he knows, but the fact that his sister had given (y/n) the dagger insinuated that Artemis knew about the prophecy before anyone else did.

There’s no way, he thought, shaking his head. (y/n) shook her head and looked at her uncle, “There’s no way she could have known.”

Apollo’s eyes widen. Did she just read my mind? (y/n) smiles before stepping back a bit. No, it’s a coincidence, he thought, feeling the thumping of his heart against his chest.

“She gave this to me telling me I’ll learn how to use it.” (y/n) said.

“In any case, we have five years and it says you will end his henchmen’s lives and Zeus’ reign as King.” Apollo noticed his niece stiffen at the mention of her grandfather.

“Uncle,” This was perhaps the first time he didn’t object to her calling him that, “I don’t want to run anymore,” She looked up at him and, “I want to fight.”

Apollo scoffed, “Fight what? Zeus? Are you out of your mind—”

“I can fight his henchman. My mother was one of the greatest warriors in all of the Greek Gods. So are you. And I’m related to you, whether you like it or not.” (y/n) said, glaring at him.

“So be it, I don’t deny that she was a warrior, but she is dead and cannot train you. And I, for one, will not do it.”

“But—”

“I will not train you, (y/n).” His words were stone.

“You are Apollo! You can teach me how to use the bow—”

“And you are the daughter of Artemis, the bow is as natural to you as breathing.” He said, rolling his eyes.

“Uncle—”

“If I teach you or side with you, which I have done once already, I wage war against my own father. What you are asking of me is impossible.” Apollo’s voice lowered, it was almost comforting. His gaze penetrated her own, there was a softness in his eyes she had never seen before.

“Fine. Then promise me this as a God and not my uncle, that you will not intervene or reveal my location to Zeus.” (y/n) said, without thinking.

“(y/n), he did not and would never hurt Artemis.” Apollo said, not believing those words himself.

(y/n) scoffed, “Please don’t tell me you don’t know of his jealousy.”

“Artemis and I are his children!”

“So was Hercules!” (y/n) fought back, knowing how Hercules met his fate because of Hera.

Apollo was quiet after this. But, slowly nodded, frowning a bit. He hated the situation he was in, but this is all he could do for Artemis. If it is found out that he hid his niece from his father, he would have to face a great deal of torment in Olympus. But, he would make sure word would not get out. After all, he was the Sun God.

“Uncle, I need your guidance. Please. You’re the only family I have left.” (y/n) said, almost a prayer.

Words could not describe how torn the Sun God felt at her words. He could not bare to look at her, but he knew what he had to do. He could not forgo his duties as a God and as a son, he could not go against Zeus, and as much as he wanted to, he could not help his niece. Acting out of character, he placed his hand on her shoulder, surprising her, and resting his forehead on her head. Breathing heavily, he struggled to find words to calm himself.

“I am so sorry, but I cannot help you, little one.”

With that, the sun had set; and (y/n) would not see Apollo for a long, long time.

❅

It was when she almost drifted off to sleep did she remember where she had seen Natasha. Just as her uncle had magically transported her to New York, she remembered seeing visions of a few people she had never met before.

She saw a man, dark spiky hair, a beard and a grin that hung on his lips that made everything else seem insignificant around him. She saw a woman, bright blonde hair and a soft smile that made everything else seem alright; she saw another woman, red hair this time, reminded her of her mother’s feisty spirit; but the last thing she saw before she knew she could open her eyes were the eyes of a boy, staring into her own, making her forget everything else. For some reason, those eyes, kept begging her not to go.

Gasping, she bolted upright on the bed she was laying down on and pressed both her hands to her mouth. Natasha was the redhead she had seen in her vision. Natasha had a role to play with her arrival in New York.

Natasha Romanoff was a fighter; Natasha, the Black Widow, would be her teacher.

She saw hair, kissed by hair, molten anger and rage; she was who would help her.

With this sudden revelation, it was difficult for her to fall asleep. It would take more than eight hours for it to strike day time, and it would take her more time than that to even think of trying to contact Natasha. She didn’t know how, and there was no way she could contact someone as secretive as an Avenger, especially after hearing some of the things the others in the shelter had to say, Natasha was one of the most secretive ones.

The next morning came painstakingly. As if she were possessed, (y/n) ran up to the first person she could find and asked them where she could find Natasha Romanoff.

“Well, she is an Avenger, so she’s got to be with Stark. Or at least, he’ll know. What’s the rush?”

(y/n) ignored them before asking someone to dial up Stark Industries, she had learned that contacting them could help her contact Tony Stark, which could help her figure out or at least try and have a word with Natasha. They used the phone in the office, which magically still worked, and as the phone rang, she could feel her heartbeat against her chest.

Five years. Trying to find Pepper would lead her to her father. But, before all that, Natasha would help her. It made more sense each time she thought about it. However, the phone kept ringing and no one picked. Disheartened, (y/n) told herself she wouldn’t give up. She called them again, and again, and again, and yet there was no one on the other end. During lunch, all she could think about was Natasha from her vision; not to mention, the other three people who were there. The dark haired male, the blonde woman, and the brown eyed boy.

The next morning, she tried again. And she tried again, the next day. Each day, she rang Stark Industries for over four times, and prayed that someone would pick.

On the fifth day, someone did pick her call.

“This is Potts, Stark Industries. How may I help you?” A sweet voice answered, but even from the voice, (y/n) could make out a tiredness that was not physically visible.

“Can I speak to Natasha Romanoff?”

“Who is this?”

“She met me at the shelter a few days ago… I had to ask her something. Please, this is important—”

“A girl from the shelter?”

“May Parker’s shelter.” (y/n) answered, hoping this would help give her away.

There was silence on the other end, and a lot of shuffling.

“Is… Is M-May still—?”

“No, she’s gone.” (y/n) said, grimly.

“Oh God…” The voice on the other side breathed heavily.

“Please, is Natasha there?”

“She’s here. I’ll hand you over.”

(y/n) felt her heart beat in her ears. “(y/n)?”

She remembered my name! “Yes, um, I needed to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“I need you to train me.”

Again, there was a long silence on the other end. A moment later, she heard a sigh, which caused her chest to drop with disappointment.

“Listen, kid, I know you’re distraught, but you’re just a kid—”

“Please, you… I can’t explain, but it’s you. You have to be the one to train me.”

There was something about her voice that made Natasha want to meet her. Whether she would train her or not was secondary, but she had to meet the girl. If she wanted to be trained, there had to be a reason; and perhaps, this would prove a worthy distraction for her, at least until they found Tony.

“I know a place. Come there, and I’ll meet you there. Let’s talk.”

(y/n) instantly agreed, but knew not how to get there.

“I don’t know how to—”

“I’ll come get you. So stay put.”

There was basically no reason for Natasha to do this. Maybe, it was the way (y/n) asked, maybe it was the confidence she displayed, and the dire relentlessness she showed in trying to reach her at all. There was so many things about (y/n) that reminded her of herself, and at the same time, Natasha saw in her something she hadn’t seen in herself for a while.

Hope.

❅

Natasha met (y/n), once again, on the terrace. She noticed (y/n) was wearing the same worn out jeans, but a different and much looser shirt. Hands on hips, Natasha didn’t wait for the girl to explain.

“Let’s spar.”

(y/n) blinked, but was on her toes immediately. Natasha came at her with a swing, faster than her mother’s swing, but (y/n) dodged it easily. Moving to her left, (y/n) raised her left leg and kicked Nat’s arm, which came to a defence a moment early. Stepping back, (y/n) dodged a couple more hits from Nat, all too easily, but Nat swung her leg below (y/n)’s, and caused her to fall to the ground, backwards. Jumping back on her feet instantly, (y/n) fell forward, landing on her hands and used her legs to wrap around Nat’s shoulders, pushing her to the ground; but Natasha was faster, grabbed (y/n)’s legs and turned her around, causing her to lie on her stomach, her hands pinned behind her back.

However, Natasha was immensely surprised. Those moves weren’t amateur. (y/n) was trained. There was a story behind her that Natasha had never judged was possible.

“Who taught you those moves?” Natasha asked, releasing the girl.

“No one.” (y/n) said, lowly, thinking of her mother.

“Why do you want to learn how to fight? You’re what, 13 years old?”

A moment before (y/n) could answer Natasha, a roar was heard in the sky. Looking up, she saw grey clouds had gathered instantaneously, swallowing the sun whole. There was half a rainbow in the side, but the storm was brewing. Any second now, rain would fall, and the second one droplet hit her skin, Zeus would know where she was.

(y/n) looked back down, at Natasha’s face, and grinned once.

“I don’t want to run anymore.”

❅

series taglist:

Those I could not tag, I’ve added your urls here!

@maddie-laufeyson, @mscoloneldanvers, @https://dancing-flame.tumblr.com, @daughter-of-stark, @spider-mendes, @nerdyandproudofitsstuff, @someonekeepstakingmyusernames, @alina-margaret, @yourwonderbelle, @viarogers, @https://huangsushii.tumblr.com, @eridanuswave @oliviaisnotlistening @mizpotatobiscuits @editsbyjenny @abbieroseb @justtrynagetthroughlife @secretlittlewonders @missmulti @shallowshawnshallowshawn.tumblr.com @eunoiametonia @adistiany @justletmesleeptillidie @ppunderoos @myheartonthemove @heir2chaos

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xxx-cat-xxx · 5 years ago

Text

Fixed It

Ten years after Endgame, Pepper gets a surprise.

Thanks to @whumphoarder for beta reading!

______________

Pepper Potts prided herself in the fact that she had never once fainted in her life. And not for lack of opportunity - working at SI, hell, just being with Tony Stark, had often stretched her body to its limits. Over the years, she’d worked through the flu on multiple occasions, stayed awake for nights on end, and combated the worst forms of jet lag and hellish temperature changes. She’d lived through more than her fair share of kidnappings and even saved the company from a stock market crash while nine months pregnant. But not once had her body let her down.

(The same couldn’t be said for anyone else she worked with. Three months ago, Happy had suffered his second heart attack, resulting in a pacemaker and early retirement. Her longstanding PA had fainted when the AC at their hotel gave out during their last trip in India, leaving Pepper with the task of getting her to a hospital in the hellish Mumbai traffic. Morgan had the habit of skipping meals whenever her anxieties got out of hand, and more than once the school had called Pepper to pick her up after a fainting spell.

And, of course, Pepper had seen Tony take swan dives in the oddest places and from a vast array of reasons, only some of them related to his superhero part-time job. Apart from that one time he’d swooned in front of SI Korea’s complete workforce from a cocaine OD, the most memorable time had probably been when he’d passed out during sex after a week without sleep).

All considered, Pepper was proud of her steadfastness.

That’s why, upon seeing her husband walk through the front door, one hand buried in their daughter’s horrible green hair, the other resting on Peter Parker’s back, ten years and ninety-two days after his death (she wasn’t counting, of course she wasn’t), the first emotion she had when she felt her knees buckle beneath her was anger at her own loss of control.

“You were dead,” she exhaled, and then she had to grab onto the wall for balance while Peter attempted to push a chair underneath her. “Goddammit, Tony, tell me I’m not dreaming, please, tell me I’m not -”

“It’s okay, Pep,” he said, taking a step towards her. “It’s real. I swear, I’m real. Pinch me and see for yourself.”

Something in her gave way. She felt herself sway on spot. Then the world tilted in front of Pepper’s eyes and she went down.

She came to with her legs propped up on a mountain of couch pillows and Tony’s face just inches from hers. And for a while, that’s all there was. Because his eyes were just like she remembered and so much brighter at the same time, so much more alive, and his smile was soft and warm and flowing over with love.

Pepper had barely cried during the first few months after his death. She had tried to be the steady and reliable presence Morgan needed, the strong and independent mother and widow and CEO everyone expected her to be. She’d known that if she allowed herself to crack even once, her breakdown would follow unstoppably. The only way to get through this had been to take the pain head-on and never once come up for air.

But now she saw Tony’s eyes glistening wet and a sob rose up from somewhere deep inside her. She blinked and felt her cheeks go wet.

Ten years and every single day had cut her heart a little deeper. Ten years and she’d become so cold and closed off to the outside world that some claimed that she couldn’t feel anything at all.

(They were wrong, they were so wrong, because it still hurt just as much as it had when she’d held his hand on the battlefield, telling him they’d be okay, and what a lie that had been.)

Ten years and it had never gotten easier. That was just another lie people told, because time isn’t a healer at all. All it does is make you grow so used to the pain that you start to forget how it is to feel otherwise.

Now, with Tony’s fingers caressing her cheek and his lips just inches from hers, she remembered.

Behind his back, Pepper could see Morgan exchange a smile with Peter. She didn’t know the full story yet, but somehow she could tell that her irredeemable, rebellious teenage daughter had played a role in it. Something warm unfolded in Pepper’s chest, something she hadn’t felt in a long time, and it took her a moment to realise that she was proud of her child.

“We’re okay,” Tony whispered, pressing a playful kiss onto her nose and pulling her upright. “It’s all good now, Pep. We fixed it.”

______________

(This is part of a longer story that might or might not be written in the next 5000 years depending on whether I can get my shit together, so I thought I’d be a bad narrator and already share the ending with you.)

______________

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33 @yepokokfine

#pepperony #endgame fix-it #peter parker #tony stark #pepper potts #morgan stark #I am working on a longer Irondad thing and this drabble happened in between so #Irondad #3000

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dekudynamight · 6 years ago

Text

Title: Team Cap vs Steve Rogers

Rating: T

Word count: 1k

Summary: Bucky takes a stroll with Old Steve. Steve has no idea what his best friend has in store for him, but it turns out to be one heck of a doozy.

A/N: This is crack. Pure absurd, ridiculous crack. It’s what I’d have liked to have seen in an end credit scene 🤷🏻‍♀️probably don’t read if you loved the Endgame ending as it is, though as I said before... this is pure crack so don’t take it too seriously 😂

Walking away from the bench with his hands in his pockets, Bucky wore a small, fond smile as Steve walked beside him. Now aged beyond what Bucky could have ever imagined, Steve’s steps were a bit slower than they used to be, but he still carried a distinct strength within as he had even before the serum.

“I’m sorry about this,” Steve told Bucky, meeting his gaze. “If there had been any other way...”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded understandingly. “I get it. It’s all right.”

“I saved you,” Steve grinned. “In 1948. You’re as old as I am back in that reality. Married with kids, grandkids too. Still a pain in my ass.”

Bucky grinned back. “Guess some things never change.”

“No, they don’t.”

“I’m glad you got to be happy, pal,” Bucky sighed. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

“I know. Still feel guilty, though. Wish you would have taken my offer to come with me.”

Bucky shrugged, giving a small shake of his head. “Guess I just... don’t really wanna look to the past anymore. I’ve spent enough time doing that. Just wanna move forward and make the most of what I have.”

Steve reached out and laid a weathered hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you, Buck.”

Bucky’s steps came to a halt. He smiled and nodded. “Me too. And I’m sorry if what I’m about to do hurts, but Banner told me it wouldn’t.”

Steve furrowed his brows. “Wh-“

Bucky hopped off the quantum platform, which Steve had unknowingly followed him to during their stroll, and began punching keys on the control panel. “You really did take all the stupid with you, huh?”

Before Steve could reply, the machine roared to life and before Bucky’s eyes, time was pushed through Steve, instantly de-aging him back to his 38 year old self. Once it was done, Bucky hit a few more keys and killed the machine and watched as Steve gasped and looked down at his newly youthful hands in shock.

“Holy shit,” Steve exclaimed, looking up at Bucky with wide eyes. “What did you do?”

Bucky simply smirked and began putting his hair up into a messy knot. “I’m gonna kick your ass so hard.”

Steve’s eyes widened even more. “What - “

“Come here, punk,” Bucky said, advancing menacingly upon his no-linger frail best friend. “You’re dead.”

Steve began taking steps backwards. “Bucky, no -“

Bucky raised his eyebrows with a grin. “Bucky, yes.”

Steve then turned around and sprinted off. “You said you understood!”

“Yeah, I sure do understand!” Bucky yelled, chasing after him. “I understand that you’re a fuckin’ jackass and that I’m gonna beat that goddamn America’s ass into a whole new timeline!”

Steve was sweating and running at top speed. “But Peggy -“

Bucky made a face and, with a hilariously mocking tone, mimicked, “BuT PeGgY. What about me, huh? What about Sam? Wanda? The whole fuckin’ team you just left to scrape by after Stark and Romanoff died? Are you insane, Rogers?”

It was at this point that Sam, happily admiring his new shield some yards away, looked up and saw Bucky chasing the inexplicably newly young Steve. “Uh...”

“Come here, Sam,” Bucky called after him. “Help me kick his ass!”

Sam gestured to the shield. “But he just -“

“Yeah, and he spent his entire life in a weird timeline without telling you a fucking thing first! Then he just waltzed back here and dropped the shield on you and turned around to waltz back off!”

Sam paused, not having had the time yet to fully process all of those things. “Well when you put it that way...”

Steve groaned, now being chased by two angry best friends. “Come on guys! I just wanted -“

He was cut off by a flash of red power in front of him, making him skid to a halt. Wanda dropped down to the ground a few feet in front of him and smiled somewhat frighteningly. “Oh, good. Are we kicking his ass?”

“Damn straight we are!” Bucky yelled just as Steve let out a girlish yelp and took off.

“I was gone for five seconds!” Steve cried, grinding to a halt again thanks to Wanda uprooting a tree and throwing it in front of him. He then turned around and faced the three of them, somewhat trapped now. “Five seconds, guys!”

“Yeah, yeah,” came a familiar male voice behind Steve. He turned just in time to find Clint standing there, having come quite literally out of nowhere. “Excuses, excuses.” He then kicked Steve in the balls and sent him falling to the ground with a shout of pain. “That was from Nat.”

Lying on the ground and clutching himself in agony, Steve forced his eyes open and looked up to find all four of them standing over him and grinning like maniacs. “.... Why?”

“Look,” Bucky shrugged, “all you need to know is now you get to live another lifetime, with us. Where you should have stayed in the first place.”

“I still very much appreciate the shield, though,” Sam said, holding it proudly. “And I ain’t giving it back now that you’re all young and spry again.”

Steve blinked. “You guys are gonna make life a living hell for me, aren’t you?”

Wanda shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Nat would have,” Clint noted.

Bucky offered a hand to help Steve up. “Eventually I’ll get over it and forgive you. But yeah, until then, I’m gonna keep kicking your ass whenever I feel like it.”

Steve warily took Bucky’s hand and pulled himself up with a groan. “Great. That’s great.”

Bucky grinned and patted Steve on the back. “Good to have you back, pal.”

Steve gave a half smile, half grimace, and then seized up as an electric jolt suddenly raced through his body and sent him careening back down to the ground.

Clint lowered his arm, fitted with one of Nat’s widow’s bites. “That was also from Nat.”

Wanda glanced at Clint. “I think she’d do it again.”

“You’re right.” Cue more writhing and high-pitched groaning from Steve, and Bucky was trying not to laugh, but... well...

“Sure we’re not being too hard on him?” Sam asked.

Bucky waved him off. “Nah. He can do this all day.”

Steve managed to flip Bucky off from the ground, and Bucky snorted a laugh. Yeah... this was gonna be one hell of a welcome home party.

Gonna tag a few pals: @take-me-tom-hiddleston @captainrogerrsbeard @st-eve-barnes @its-a-pretty-interesting-wall @musette22 @stuck-y-together @nade2308 @lisamott9 @ravensonata and I know I’m forgetting some (if I missed someone its bc I either forgot or can’t remember your stance on the ending and don’t wanna piss you off 😂)

#drabble #endgame spoilers #crack #marvel crack #endgame #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #clint barton #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #team cap #crackfic #mine #avengers #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction

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ninainthetardis · 6 years ago

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AVENGERS ENDGAME SPOILERS + MY THEORIES & COMMENTS

It's been a week since I saw Endgame and I think it's really the time for me to write some comments about it.

The First Part of the Movie

- It was kinda smart as in a couple of minutes it foiled almost every theory ever made about it.

- It was good as they showed us our heroes humanity, the way they struggled to move on after the snap and how alone, responsible and broken they felt.

- It was too long: they could've used half - or at least a third - of that time to cover some of the plot holes left at the end of the movie, or to show us something more interesting. For example, Imagine if there was no scene about Hulk taking pictures with his fans and instead of it we'd got Steve's meeting with Red Skull. Wouldn't it be amazing? Yes.

- Thor and Hulk were destroyed. Those characters went on a journey since we first met them, and starting from Ragnarok to finish with Endgame, they ended up going backwards instead of moving forward. They were hilarious in some moments, yes, but mostly they looked ridiculous and ooc. I mean... Hulk's dab dance? WTF?! Thor spending his days playing fortnite? It looked a little excessive to me honestly.

- I loved the way Natasha and Steve kept counting on each other like the family they were supposed to be. They give each other strength and support, and love. They were amazing. Truly.

- Tony's speech almost made me cry. Of course I knew that was not his end, - it was too soon -, but I almost cried anyway. Watching him suffering pained me. I was trying to figure out how they would manage to get out that situation when Carol showed up and I almost screamed. And CAN WE TALK ABOUT TONY LETTING NEBULA WIN, PLEASE?!

The Time Travel Thing

Basically, Ant man came back to our world to find out half of the population had been wiped away, and he has this idea of time traveling because why not? Let's mess with our minds a little more.

They explained that if they went back, their past would not change anyway, but at the same time Bruce says that when they remove an Infinity stone from its timeline, they create an alternative reality. Now, sure Steve put them back to where they belonged when they were not of use to the Avengers anymore, but still, there's a Loki who fled with the Tesseract in 2012 and I don't think that Steve faced him and fixed it on his own: I mean, it took the six of them to defeat him the first time! So, didn't that create a different reality? There is an Infinity stone out of place after all.

Still, I can't see how Thanos could do the snap if his 2014 version is dead. All I'm saying is that the timeline we saw remains unchanged, but we can't actually know whether there is an alternative timeline in which IW never happened or not. I like to think there is because this would mean that there is a reality where Nat, Tony and Steve are still alive, together and maybe happy. Just we'll never see it. Unfortunately.

Plus, the soul stone. A soul for a soul, right? Given that Steve returned the stone, couldn't he get Natasha back?

Tony. I expected Tony to die at the end of this movie but seriously guys that hurt too much, I was not ready at all. He finally had the family he deserved and wanted but could not sacrifice half of the living beings on earth just to keep his happiness. WHAT A CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. He started from fighting for himself to almost sacrifice himself in Avengers 1 and to actually do it in the end. Chapeau, Iron Man.

Steve. And here the thing gets complicated. I expected Steve to die as well,though his death would have broken me, - you know, favorite character and so on. We were ready for just one of them to die, so the only way to completely destroy our hearts was to kill both of them off. They didn't, and somehow this was even worse.

It's like we were robbed of our proper goodbye to Cap. I am, of course, happy he got the love of his life back (though I can't see how this will not affect the timeline tbh), but up to Endgame, things happened. First of all, Sharon Carter. And here everything gets weird. Secondly, he made a journey during which he changed and came to accept what had happened to him. In the end, it was all thrown away. It's kind of ooc for me that he just left Bucky in the present, friends who needed him, and went back to the past. And at the same time I can't actually see him just sitting there when he could prevent shit to happen. Though he promised Nat to move on, and maybe, after losing Nat and Tony, he realized that the only way for him to move on was to go back. Because yes, I think he wouldn't have come back if they had been alive. And Bucky followed his own path after CW, so they had already gone on separate ways.

As I said, it's tricky. A lot.

It's like Tony learnt from Cap to sacrifice himself and Cap learnt from Tony to put himself first for once.

"See you in a minute".

Natasha's death. That I didn't expect. Well, actually I did, being her my second favorite character and being used to watching my favorite characters die all the time. But you know, I thought that the soul stone required the soul of the one you love the most, and there was no way that Clint loved her more than his family. So I thought he was the one better suited for the sacrifice. And instead that wasn't the case and she died. But I didn't want any of them to die anyway. And it hurt because she said "see you in a minute" and then she didn't come back. And Steve's reaction when he realized she was gone forever. My poor heart.

This movie truly messed up with me.

Random comments

- Pepper was amazing and the scene of all women fighting side by side was MARVELOUS. I wish Natasha was there though.

- Poor Morgan lost his father, they were so cute and happy, my heart can't handle this.

- Thor giving away his throne was... I don't know, that's tricky as well. His whole path was about becoming worthy and gaining the awareness he needed to be a just king. So it makes sense he didn't feel like ruling at that moment, he lost himself and needed to find the right path again, but giving the throne away? Sounds too much to me imho. But I also don't think we've seen all of Thor, so... Maybe they'll fix it later on.

- Gamora. 2018 Gamora is dead, 2014 one is alive. What. About. Her? If the past remains unchanged, does it mean that she has only four years left to live (in perfect final destination style)? Or maybe she died when Tony snapped? Or she just run away to follow her own path again, as originally in 2014 she left Thanos and changed from a bad to a good guy, doing we don't know what exactly. Maybe she's meant to do it again, (just in the future) before meeting Quill again.

- The Scarlett Witch is FIRE. Can't wait to see her show! (Also, Loki's. I wonder if it will start from him fleeing with the Tesseract or if it will be a prequel like the movie about the Black Widow)

- Ronin. It was like Natasha and Clint's position were reversed and this time it was down to Natasha to save him and she did it. She's so loyal to her friends, her family, the family she found in the Avengers. She deserved so much better.

- I expected that they had to face either Loki (the one who fled with the Tesseract, after he did it), as a sort of coming back to the start, or Thanos from the past. It was Thanos and I was happy. I still hope we'll see Loki with his character development intact again.

- The final battle was INCREDIBLE. AMAZING.

- When I was at the cinema, I was 99% sure there was no scene after the credits. I waited anyway. And it was only when I saw that black screen that I realized it was really, really over. That was the moment I had to repress other tears.

- I'm gonna stop now. I just want to say that, in spite of all the plot holes and things I don't agree with and that were done, or things that I thought could've been done better, I loved this movie. It's the end to an era that meant - and still means - a lot to me and it was AMAZING. I will bring all those characters and those stories with me forever. Nat, Steve and Tony in a special way. One day I'll come to terms with the fact that this is all. But not today.

Love you 3000.

#avengers #avengers endgame #avengers infinity war #avengers engame spoilers #avengers earth's mightiest heroes #captain america #captain marvel #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #romanogers #iron man #tony stark #thor #hulk #bruce banner #hawkeye #clint barton

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