#muse ✶ carol danvers

[catastrophicxfailure]

She could have kept speaking, if she had allowed herself. Could have cracked her chest wide open and displayed every single feeling she had bubbling up inside, every vulnerable little ounce of it. She could have told the other how the magic wasn't something anyone could see or use to do party tricks or even save the world. The magic she felt from Valkyrie had less to do with the world and more to do with her — the way the woman made her feel more at peace than she'd been in years, how she gave her a safe space to land whenever she needed it, how she sat for hours in silence during their first few moments in New Asgard without question. It was magic; pure, untouchable magic.

It was what she would blame the willingness to completely and utterly fall into Valkyrie in that moment. The peacefulness of the golden glow surrounding them, the quiet of the planet that had been untouched for hundreds of years, and the pure untouchable magic of the woman in her arms. How could she resist, right? And so she didn't. Carol allowed the other to pull her closer, allowed her to take the lead that the blonde so often insisted on taking in all aspects of her life. While it wasn't the first time for the action itself, it was the first time it may have actually scared Carol Danvers just the slightest.

Scared as she might have been, it didn't stop her from following the other's lips as she pulled back, too wrapped up in the moment to think about it much. If she did start to think about it, she knew that the other woman wouldn't see her for weeks, possibly months, maybe even years. Running when something got serious and scary was her specialty. She'd done it with Maria and Monica after she found them again, she tried to do it when her unconventional team formed in space, she had even disappeared a time or two on the woman pressed against her, though she always seemed to be pulled back to her — just like magic. "It is distracting me, though, and wasn't that the point?" A soft chuckle fell from her lips, her nose bumping against Valkyrie's as she spoke. How she wanted to simply stay there all day, pressed against that picnic table, the golden glow around them kissing the other's skin just right.

"That's... totally uncool," Carol verified with a convincing nod, though she was also quickly to compliment with another brush of her thumb against the woman's cheek, "And you call me a poet." If either of them could be considered a poet, it felt almost right that they were at least poets together, in that moment, on that very rock floating deep into the universe. How insane, she thought, would her former self have thought this was. "Okay," the blonde finally breathed out, inhaling and putting slightly more space between them. "If we stay here, I'm going to end up desecrating this sacred ancient picnic table and I'm honestly not sure how I feel about that." Nodding, she tried her best to ignore the hammering in her chest, the sinking feeling in her stomach as the instinct to bolt was rising hotly inside of her. "Show me around. I want to know this part of your world... it helps to know how much is out there."

The King can almost hear the pulse of Carol's heart, in sync with her own, once there is no empty space left between them. Every inhale, every blink of an eye, every quirk of the corner of Carol's lips and laugh lines that frame them so perfectly - none of it escapes Valkyrie's notice - even though she has all of it memorized, from last time. She is yet to admit to anyone, perhaps even herself, that she sometimes thinks about Carol's face even when alone, in the dark, when sleep does not want to come.

"Not all... but right now I see that what truly matters." She muses with an equally teasing smirk on her face, feeling her own face grow hotter when Carol continues speaking, their faces merely inches apart. There have been many, indefinitely many pieces of art devoted to the Valkyries over the millennia; endless songs sung, stories written, and prayers addressed to those they call the choosers of slain—... However, the words the blonde speaks are reserved only for her, in this intimate space between them, on a flying rock deep within the great void; in the remnants of what used to be home.

"I thought I was in the presence of a Captain, and here I find myself in an embrace of a poet..."

And then, the King is melancholy no more. She feels the calm and softness of the other, and all of this world completely disappears when their lips meet. She is hardly surprised by the gesture, knowing that they somehow always end up this way when they are vulnerable with each other— but this time it feels different. When they kissed the last time, and the one before that, it was with hurry, satisfying urges caused by adrenaline and a pint of mead too many...

This time, it's gentle, and quiet, and feels like coming back after a long, strenuous battle.

Valkyrie exhales against Carol's lips, then parts them gently with her tongue, tasting the faint remnants of coffee; then pulls her closer, with hands moving to the blonde's lower back, desperate not to have an atom that separates them. Electricity rushes through between each kiss, deeper than the last, and the King feels as if she's been struck by lightning in the pit of her stomach, over and over again.

"For the record", her words a whisper between each stolen kiss as she leans back on the picnic table, pulling Carol with her, "this was not how this outing was supposed to go. But, uncool as it may sound—" Her nose brushes against the other, and though she breaks the kiss, it would be a mistake to pull too far away; so she doesn't, "—It would be foolish of me not to do what I thought about from the moment I saw you today."

[ironman-tonystark]

Being a tall blonde with blue eyes won't necessarily get you a place on the Avengers, but it sure as hell doesn't hurt.

[catastrophicxfailure]

open for ✶ MCU characters only.

setting ✶ rebuilt avengers campus.

muse ✶ carol danvers.

please read my rules here.

The boiling coffee cup went flying across the room, cracking onto the first thing it hit and splatting the dark liquid that was left inside all over the brand new tile of the research room. She hadn't even noticed anyone's presence until the sound of surprise hit her ears and the fight immediately left her, heated energy dissipating from her palms by the second. "Sorry, I —." Carol paused, unsure of what she was going to say, how she was going to explain that after spending days looking over facts and figures from some of the greatest minds Earth had left, from the likes of Bruce Banner and Steven Strange and Hank Pym, she'd officially resorted to throwing coffee cups across newly built rooms. She could practically feel Nick Fury's eye rolling from wherever he was at that moment.

"I didn't hear you," The blonde finally offered as a lame excuse for throwing the coffee mug. In reality, the reason she threw the mug had less to do with the intruder and more to do with the frustration building inside of her every time she realized she was no closer to finding a way to get Monica back than she had been months ago. She and Fury had pulled in some of Earth's greatest minds, but they still weren't the man who somehow figured out time travel.

[nurseryofmuses]

Nursery Asteroid

Carol was the one that was sent on the advance scouting missions for Sword, often times starting to build the bases and get them online before people started appearing to do more set up and start the work they were to do there. More than once she had found herself in some opposition of the wild life in the area, be then on the planet or in space. Often times they were minor to mid level threats that she could handle on her own which was why she was sent on her own most of the time. However this time something was different.

She had been out of contact for a few weeks now, with the only trace or word of her was an emergency beacon that outputting a garbled message, it sounded like her but not like her at the same time. Before she had gone out of contact she had met some of the wild life here and they were peculiar looking creatures and didnt seem to be any sort of threat. She had taken one to research it on her own to figure out what it was and what it did, however what she didnt realize was that while she slept it would glob on to her and alter her mind in ways she didnt think was possible. She had tried to fight at first and was successful to a point, only to send a distress signal but after, she had lost the battle to the creature and what it was doing to her.

@nojudgementrpblog

[catastrophicxfailure]

A soft smile of adoration pulled on her lips when Kate talked about Kamala's antics; of course the girl would pick the most insane way possible to induct someone into a society of superheroes. The next Nick Fury, she was sure of it. Part of her could see so much of the agent in the teenager, a budding leader if she ever saw it. Carol was less of a leader, more happy to do what she was told if it meant she got to save a life or two. Part of being a soldier that she never shook, she supposed. It was difficult to see herself leading anyone when she failed so miserably so many times.

"Remind me to talk to her about how she approaches people," Carol offered with a laugh and a slight teasing crinkle of her nose. She'd talk to the younger girl in time, maybe make some light suggestions and guide her in Fury's direction for the real pep talk — though she had an inkling that Fury's tactics weren't much better.

The other's response to her question was disappointing, but she should have already known that as more of Kate's file came back to her. An archer. No special powers. No super genius abilities. The other was smart, she had no doubts about that, but what Carol needed was the next Tony Stark, a mind that can literally invent something like time travel. She needed a way to open a specific tear in space without affecting the entire galaxy and shooting arrows at the stars just wasn't going to cut it. "It's okay," the blonde assured her with a shake of her head. "I lost someone recently and getting her back... it's gonna take a little more than an arrow to do the trick and everyone seems to be scrambling after losing a brain as big as Stark's."

Carol's soft chuckle after Kate's miswording of Nick Fury, gave the archer a breath of relief. Okay well at least she doesn't think I'm a total loser. Though she was sure she'd soon unwillingly show the legendary Captain Marvel just how awkward of a loser she really was.

Kate could practically see the blond think about her question before answering, like she needed a second to be sure of the answer she was going to give. "Well, I for one would like to see ya around more." Her lips curled into a soft smile. Kamala had told her bits and pieces about how Carol didn't truly settle anywhere. Just maybe though, she would come to see them - her as family. Since well, Kate didn't have one anymore.

"Oh she's definitely that." She agreed with a chuckle. Kamala had to have been the easiest person in the world to like. And that alone, was a super power. "I mean, does letting herself into my apartment and sitting creepily in the dark awaiting my arrival make me one of hers? Then yeah, I guess I am." She beamed. Kate had gotta give it to Kamala though, she had a way of talking people into something before they even had a second to think about it.

Kate raised a in thought eyebrow, a faraway expression in her eyes. "I mean.. I know the names of all the planets?" Unfortunately, she got the feeling that was not the sort of information that Carol would need or make any use of. "What a lack in space knowledge, I make up for in archery skills." Now that was something she could boast about. "Sorry though.. I feel like I ain't gonna be much use to whatever you're in need of help of."

[jeonstellate]

they’ve established that kamala writes captain marvel fanfics; but, i wanna know: what’s her favorite to write? 👁️

personally, i think it’s self-insert + avenger!reader fics. but, after the events of the movie, she switched to captain marvel x valkyrie + royal!au + marriage-of-convenience!au, no doubt.

[deputygonebye]

@divinityrisen || Continued from here.

Born from a breakfast of stale pizza, what was once frozen inside of a grocery fridge and then discovered within an abandoned homestead, barely warmed when left over muted flame, the vomit that Glenn spilled was unnatural. Diluted from the few sips of water he was able to drink - a communal container that was less than a gallon, not enough to go around the camp - a mangled mess of white and red, flecks of green and globs of brown. Drenched in sweat, little comfort was found in the cushion of grass beneath the knees, Glenn hunched over nearest the weeds, an empty stomach made more so. Shaking, skin turned to an odd shade of pale, eyes watered and dark. A vision that brought about thoughts so terrible; the phantom of death, the fight that couldn't be beaten. Modern medicine and miracles damned, stock was nothing more than the promise of Aspirin and burn cream, stashed in the only cabinet of Dale's RV not hung to the wall by hopes and used duct tape. Small relief, modest to the agony so felt by Glenn, last seen covered head to toe in spare blankets, his lawn chair before the firepit a mediocre throne, Shane couldn't stand it.

Blade and gun carried, favored pistol holstered to his hip, he went off in search. For the sake of Glenn and the others, the need of their stock to be replenished and the promise of having more than not. A supply run that would be done alone - a burden carried unattended, sacrifice from the soldier onto his people, the family and friends who depended upon him. An entire world and more placed on tired shoulders. Better to have he than they, the rest of the group who survived Atlanta considered safe. Sheltered from the misery, if only for the bit of daylight that remained, the Walkers at rest for their hunt. Lost in the sleep that didn't need for the eyes to shut; the slow limp from span of time into the next, the endless cycle that was life forever. Storms within their irises, colors once so bright now dull, only those that didn't travel in packs would be found. Lone wolves; corpses without their hordes, snapping and biting into the open air, the flies that buzzed about or the birds that fluttered too close, banished even in demise.

Familiar road walked along, Shane continued until he came to face the carcass of a once thriving town. A skeleton that stood unmoved - doors and glass windows caved in - wood splintered, concrete busted, flower pots turned over and the beautiful buds trampled, petals scattered and ripped. Where kinfolk used to abide, cuddled close beside the fireplace in the living room, the grocery store just around the corner or the library only a block away. Heart and soul nestled beyond the city lights, the glamour and the frills, before a small market did Shane end. Fliers still plastered to the front door - opening and closing hours, special deals and coupons - tarnished by the elements, the faint sign of hands and nails that fought to get inside, dried blood and grime stained. Fingers to the handle about to pull, the sound of a crash stopped Shane in an instant, made him noiseless, breath stalled from the nose and released in stiff stream. All senses attuned, voices overheard gave cause for the quickness of his feet. A dash toward a used car lot, across the street from the quaint and humble market, behind the bumper of an old Jeep Patriot, billet silver in the body, total black in the tires.

Pistol taken into hold, a blur of blonde hair and scared expression captured Shane's attention the second it passed him. Waves of gold that moved to the strength of the wind, the thump of feet onto pavement and desire to be unseen. Panicked, annoyance outlined in the lines of her features, young but made older due to circumstance, her own weapon grabbed for with intention so well understood. Unprepared to welcome final moments, stubborn to accept fate, the hand not stationed to his gun was raised by Shane. Palm brought up, to the skies and all the angels above, defensive and in the tone of surrender. A flag of white waved in the breeze. Under the oath of his own choosing, vow that was far from what was so screamed by others, men of elder and youth alike.

Shane whispered, pitched at the end, the silence so loud. "Am I right to assume you ain't with them?"

Startled from the echo of gunshots, the reverb of slugs, the grind of jagged shale underfoot, Shane steadied himself, propped his stance.

"Listen to me, I ain't gonna hurt you, okay? But if you wanna make it out alive, you're gonna have to trust me. Start comin' to me this way, real slow. Keep your weight even - don't run. Come to the other side of me and stay down until I say so. I'll cover you. Bastards, they must've flanked every exit of this damn lot!"

Shane encouraged, a command rather than something sweeter, tender but roughly shared, "hey! Come on. Get over here!"

[tangleweave]

Star Screams [RP]

[ @paragonrising ]

"Alert. Alert. This is the Kree Accuser Warship Venoran, transmitting a priority advisory. Our vessel has been attacked, invaded, and crippled by a cybernetic entity of unidentified composition and origin. Self-destruct measures have been disabled by the entity. Attempts to subdue the entity with conventional weaponry have proven unsuccessful. Advise any and all civilian vessels within a one light-year radius to remain clear. Kree Authority vessels, establish communications blackout with Venoran and relay priority signal to Supreme Intelligence for further instruction.

"Alert. Alert. This is…"

~*~*~*~

The Venoran had been home to five elite units, every member of them privy to their own preference of weaponry and tactics. But what good was it to be when their quarry was, by all accounts, intangible? Every blade, every slug, every blast of energy seemed to pass through the pale biped harmlessly, and did not seem to interdict it in the slightest.

It might as well have been a ghost. Perhaps it was a vengeful revenant that had attached to the hull following some prior culling, and fashioned a body for itself out of the Venoran's parts and pieces. But that would not explain its eye-straining sheen, brilliant white with gleaming neon blue in its eyes and its forehead. And the quantities of the Venoran were known elements. This being was something else entirely, that it could seem to phase out of all tangible existence with merely a thought.

Arcs of energy burst from the sapphire core in its head, lancing into Kree elites with precision to make even the likes of the legendary Minn-Erva jealous. Some were concussive, tossing them back against bulkheads and knocking them unconscious on impact. Others were not quite so forgiving, and burned holes through limbs and joints.

The entity did not stop until it had invaded the bridge, and confronted the Accuser standing defiant with his hammer in both hands.

Those hands remained attached to the hammer longer than to the Accuser.

The entity had brought the hammer down upon the nearest control panel, shattering the holographic prismatic displays and revealing the circuitry beneath. It was the circuitry that the being touched with its open hand… and moments later, the breathable air in the vessel was being evacuated into the bleak dark of space beyond.

Most of the Kree made it to escape pods and shuttles without further incident. And it was only after the atmosphere had been nullified for a full hour's time that it repressurized the vessel's interior and opened its eyes, at last, to behold the ship it had single-handedly overtaken.

It turned around, and became abruptly aware that it was not alone on the ship as it had imagined.

It was immediately intrigued. An emotional borne out by the way it tilted its head askance.

And spoke into the newly restored atmosphere.

"Captain Carol Danvers."

[massive-marvel]

A big hammy fist pounded against a faded gold-shod star slicked in far more yellows than normal, the doughy hand thwump against a meaty chest. “ BBWWEEEERRLLCH ” , Carol craned her jaw, a triumphant roar escaped the blondes messed lips, squish of her bloated neck as each putrid second was displayed. Squelch burger slop ran down her form, the painfully blue hoodie getting her iconic colors of streaks of ketchup, and splotches of mustard. A husky huff and the marvel leaned back into her booth seat, ever determined to eat her latest foe, The Captain marvel burger.

Jessica grinned as she watched Carol tackling her current foe, her burger that was made in her image and given her title. A greasy, six tier mountain of meat with huge thick buns layers inside, resembling a very messy cake rather than a burger.

"You hanging in *Mrrrf* alright there, Carol love? You're not *BWOOOORP* gonna let that burger beat you, *FRRRRRRRRRRRRRPTPTPTPT* are ya?" Her words came from grease covered lips, with all sorts of sauces and grease coating her chins and cheeks just as her date's were. Her suit was stained with months of food and sweat marks, she didn't bother changing out of it. She wore it pulled half down, with her torso covered by her favourite, far too small dark denim jacket, also stained beyond achieving full cleanliness ever again. They were the only two in the diner besides a few brave staff. The others all knew that this place would be inhospitable shortly, with two of the fattest and gassiest heroes in there.

[totouchthcstars]

Look who just woke up- is that BRIE LARSON? No, I must have been mistaken, that’s CAROL DANVERS/ CAPTAIN MARVEL from MARVEL. I heard she is IMMORTAL and stuck here just like everyone else. Even in the 20’s, they still give off a BEING MISS SPARKLY FISTS, NOT HAVING HER TEMPER UNDER CONTROL MORE OFTEN THAN NOT, HAVING TROUBLE TAKING ORDERS FROM OTHERS impression. They’re known to be quite FREE-SPIRITED, but have a tendency to be RECKLESS on their bad days.

Gender/Pronouns : she/her

How long have they been in Sydney : in reality, three years, at this point. In her fake life, Carol grew up in Sydney

Which suburb do they live in? tba

Personality description : Confident, funny and fearless. Carol does not take life too seriously and can even crack a joke in dangerous situations. She prefers to follow her own moral compass instead of blindly listening to orders, and is therefore labelled as rebellious and stubborn.

Memories of their real life : Carol does basically remember everything up to the point when Thanos was defeated, so, how she got her abilities, the Kree and them brain-washing her, meeting Nick Fury and getting full memories and full control over her abilities back....

What was their fake life like : 

Carol was born into a strict military family, which does maybe explain how she had developed her rebellious nature, being confronted with rules and guidelines since a very young age. She always fought with her father, and no matter what her punishment had been, Carol would not give in.

She'd dent to a rather strict school as a teenager. There, Carol had discovered her love to fly. However, military did not allow women as pilotes back then. Not even with the influence of her father. They offered Carol a position 'on the ground', but agaim Carol did not give in.

Instead, she got a pilot licence and was offering like, flying people from the outback into the city and stuff, with a very run-down plane Carol did actually repair and restore with her own two hands

theme song: Pat Benatar - Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Quote: "I'm not what you think I am." (to Nick Fury)

[ofaflower]

muse tags.

[theirdiaries]

ღ * ➜ ( brie larson , cis-female , sixty-seven , she/her ) it seems like carol danvers might be making a new home in mystic, connecticut. a canon character from marvel was seen walking down main street. while they arrived three months ago , they do not believe they have been here their whole lives.

name : carol danvers age : sixty - seven gender : cis - woman pronouns : she / her sexuality : bi - sexual, bi - romantic shipping status : open

[ironman-tonystark]

It might be time to bring the tights and booty shorts back to Cap's uniform. But why stop at one Cap? I'm going to make them all uniforms with tights and booty shorts.

[catastrophicxfailure]

closed for ✵ @perilousxrealm.

setting ✵ new asgard.

muse ✵ carol danvers and valkyrie.

The sky was dark once they arrived back on Earth, allowing the bifrost to transport them with Carol's arms wrapped around the other tightly, eyes squeezed tightly shut until their feet were flat in front of the building she'd grown to know well. When the colors faded away, she was hesitant to unwrap herself from the other woman, though eager to get inside before anyone noticed either of them were there. During the day was one thing, often Carol was even happiness when she was sparring with the tiny Asgardians, rolling around in mud when she needed a breath from the conflict in space (and in her head), but that night she found that she needed nothing more than the comfort of Valkyrie's home and a soft bed, much unlike the chair she often fell asleep in at the Avenger's compound.

A warm shower and a pair of Valkyrie's clothes left her significantly cleaner than when they'd arrived, full of Asgardian dirt from their tussle on the ground of a planet far above where they were now. Blonde strands still slightly damp laid against her cheeks as she made her way back into the bedroom, eyeing the comfort of the bed with a longing she hadn't felt in quite some time. "You look comfy... happen to save some room in there?

[theirdiaries-a]

[ brie larson ] i just saw that CAROL DANVERS arrived in mystic, ct ! they're SIXTY-SEVEN and a CANON from MARVEL. however, you might want to check first because while they've been here length of THREE MONTHS they DO NOT BELIEVE they have been here their whole lives. make sure to make them feel right at home.

[catastrophicxfailure]

Jaw squared, lips pressed together, and brow furrowed in an expression of defiance against Valkyrie's words. There was little to deny when the other called her out on exactly how she felt, what she thought was hidden deep inside, what she had somehow let the other see despite so desperately trying to hide it. The funny thing, though, was that scared only began to describe how she felt.

She shook her head, registering just how close they were, save for the pile of tangled lights between them. Suddenly she hated those lights. Denial. Denial. Denial. Gaze stayed trained on dark brown hues, noting the tear tracks on smooth cheeks that she knew would be her undoing. Her own eyelids prickled with a hot wetness, threatening to blind her at that very second as she used every fiber of her being to hold them at bay. She had to hold strong, had to prove that she wasn't scared, that she wasn't afraid.

But she was.

And it was growing so. hard. to pretend like she wasn't.

Her fists open and closed as she fought the words at the tip of her tongue, static energy prickling at her fingertips with her frustration. She felt frozen, unable to say anything, unable to do anything. Carol knew she should walk away, to make it hurt a little now instead of a lot later on. You can stand tall without standing alone. The words echoed in mind, the memory of the very woman in front of her telling her that when she felt at her lowest. She didn't have to be alone — so why was she so insistent on it.

With every inhale, her heart thundered against her ribcage and the expression her features fell into was almost painful, her gaze falling from the others only to glance at the sky, painted purple and orange with the fading sun, and blink back the tears that threatened to spill over.

" — I'm afraid of losing you too."

Valkyrie has known loss her entire life— and what a life that has been. Thousands of years old, watching people grow old and die for generations. Millions of souls, perished on battlefields that she has reaped and taken to Valhalla, an Angel of Death; until people stopped believing in Norse Gods and the Valkyries fell into history, and eventually into myth.

She is nearly old as the ground they stand on here, in this moment, yet the emotions that constrict her chest now make her feel very weak... very human. Suppose that has been her fate all along, the moment she chose to settle on Midgard, surrounded by mortals, destined to become one herself; at least as far as her soul is concerned.

The fear, the anger, the rejection hurt almost as much as a God-Killer's sword slicing through her insides, almost as much as seeing the love of one of her lifetimes murdered by the Goddess of Death right before her eyes. It should not hurt this way, yet it does.

When has the chooser of slain fallen this hard for any other being in her long lasting life?

The absurdity of it all makes her chuckle, all amusement gone from the sound, as she hears Carol speak. Not to soothe her, but to keep up the dance they have been doing all afternoon.

"Gods almighty, you are so. stubborn!" She says, throwing her hands in the air. Her eyes are filled with tears, but she cares not to hide them when she turns around.

"That is the last thing I want, and you know it. You know just as well that all I want is you, Carol. Fully, completely, all of you, even when you... even right now." A pause, to catch her breath and wipe at a single fallen tear angrily. "It is scary, and it is hard to think, to breathe, to focus on any other thing when you're standing right there, uttering complete nonsense about a chair and a cat, and whatever else just to.... not say what you truly want too.

As someone notorious for being a woman of little words, this is the most she has spoken altogether in what feels like a decade. She steps closer to Carol, her jaw set, a sight perhaps menacing to some; but for the blonde who has seen her angry many times it's clear that it is because she is trying to stop more of the treacherous tears from falling. Her eyes search Carol's and up close realizes that it's fear behind them; the same kind of fear she has seen that night when Carol had called her over in tears, to tell her that Monica was gone.

"My words scare you." A statement, not a question— voice barely a whisper as they stand closer now, the only thing between them the tangled lights at their feet. "What are you afraid of?"