#post-endgame

[joetavis]

"We're gonna lose."

"Then we'll do that together too."

Guess what, they won. But Tony won't be around to see it, and Steve promised that they'd win together, so yeah, when Tony was gone, Steve couldn't really imagine himself doing anything but leaving too.

Because Steve Rogers is not a man who breaks his promises. And if Tony can't see the world they saved, he wouldn't either.

[axkirak]

I Will Follow You Into The Dark

Pairings:  Astarion x Original Female Character(Named Tav)  [From Baldur's Gate 3]

Tag/Warnings : Canon Compliant, Post-Endgame, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Tragedy, Mentions of past abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, References to Depression, Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Synopsis : Astarion returned to the city of Baldur's Gate, following the final request of his beloved, who asked him to bury her next to his grave. As dawn approached, Astarion held the lifeless body of his love, reminiscing about the countless memories they shared together.

A/N : The story started when I came across this tweet: 'do you guys think your tavs/durges stayed with their love interest long term or not?'

I got the idea to tell the story of my Tav and her love interest, Astarion. What would happen to them after the end of Baldur's Gate 3? I've been thinking about it a lot and it's quite heartbreaking.

From these little headcanons, I developed this one-shot about them.

My Tav is a human bard with a noble background. So, I imagined her as the daughter of a noble Baldurian,which contrasts with Astarion's background. Their initial relationship was more of a adversaries before blossoming into love in the end.

Listening to the song "I Will Follow You into the Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie gave me a lot of inspiration for this couple. (At first, I wanted to use the song "Take Me To Church" as the title, but it's too popular. I thought a song that many might not have heard of would be fitting for this tale.)

Read in Ao3 : here

"Jones," Astarion whispered, calling his beloved, but she didn't respond. 

Her eyes closed tightly, her body growing colder with each passing moment. 

Astarion pulled her closer, hoping his slight warmth might warm her. He knew it wouldn't help, and she would never wake to look into his eyes again.

Human lives are fleeting, from young maiden to old crone, from crone to spirit. 

Her entire life was a blink of an eye compared to his cursed immortality. 

Once, Astarion had both disdain and curiosity about this human. A race so fragile and feeble, never wielding a sword to harm anyone, raised in a noble family, spending half a comfortable lifetime in a grand mansion in Baldur’s Gate, surrounded by obedient servants bowing to her every whim.

He couldn't make sense of her. For a vampire like him who had struggled to survive amidst enemies and a cruel world for centuries. He was nothing but a bloodthirsty creature, a servant under a master's foot who got treated worse than a common slave, struggling to sustain his life with the taste of filthy rat blood that almost made him vomit.

Astarion envies her for an ideal life in the gilded cage he could only dream of. envied the short-lived human existence. While he had no right to die willingly if his evil master didn't want him to die,

And he wondered why she had fled her high-life in the capital city of Baldur’s Gate to suffer with them. why someone so inept at fighting would risk her life battling monsters, from goblins and evil undead to even gods, to aid them and help everyone unrelated to her.

He thought Jones was foolish, and he didn't like fools.

Ironically, eighty years later, he found himself shedding tears at her death.

"I wish to be buried beside your grave, Astarion." That was one of her last wishes before she breathed her last in his embrace. This led Astarion to make the singular decision to step out of the Underdark and return to Baldur’s Gate, the city where he once hated heavily, to fulfill the last wish of his beloved.

The black sky began to turn deep blue. Astarion knew he should hurry to bury Jones properly before the sunrise. As he contemplated, his eyes caught withered flowers left on the ground near his own grave marker. For a brief moment, Astarion reminisced about the memories he shared with her. He had once brought Jones to his own grave, recounting his life before turning into a vampire. and then visualizing a future where he wished to live with her,as his past had died over two centuries ago and she was the only future he desired.

Astarion remembered his overwhelming fear that Jones might refuse him. She was the highborn daughter of Baldur’s Gate's noble families. Why would she choose to endure the hardships of life with an elf vampire like him?

Yet his fear vanished instantly when he saw the soft smile on her smooth face. She placed flowers on his grave and embraced him, accepting his love wholeheartedly. 

That night was the night he died and was reborn in her embrace. Not as the enslaved Astarion, not as the villainous Astarion, but as Astarion the redeemed, never to be alone again because he would have her by his side forever.

But the words 'forever' don't really exist, especially for humans and vampires.

Still, Astarion couldn't help but secretly hope.

Sometimes, darker thoughts overshadow his mind, eclipsing all the goodness he has left. Astarion often secretly pondered that if he chose the path of power, performed an ancient ritual to sacrifice seven thousand souls to a devil, and transformed himself into a vampire ascendant, he would have enough strength to walk in the sunlight with her and enough power to turn her into a vampire like him. Then they could live together forever without the fear of death taking her away.

But it was Jones who restrained him then. She persuaded Astarion to see that these powers offered him nothing but the dark legacy of the Vampire Master, an inheritance of wickedness that would never end. She told him he could be better than Cazador, his former master, and he didn't have to continue killing others to sustain his existence anymore.

Astarion trusted her, though he couldn't deny feeling deeply regretful. And Jones sensed his feelings. She gently grasped his cold hands and earnestly vowed, "Astarion, I will find a way to cure you of vampirism, so you can walk under the sunlight with me again."

And she kept her promise. After successfully helping Baldur’s Gate city fend off the threats of the Mind Flayers and Nether Brain, she and him began a new adventure together. They journeyed across the entire continent of Faerûn, from Waterdeep to Athkatla, Neverwinter, Luskan, and even the mysterious realm of Feywild, all in pursuit of finding a cure for him.

Those times were special, building strong bonds and beautiful memories between them. They laughed together, danced together, fought together, and held each other close under vast skies and twinkling stars as witnesses.

Until Jones began to age and couldn’t continue the journey. That was when they both realized how little time they had left. And no matter how much time and effort they put in, there was no way to find a cure for him anymore.

Facing the harsh reality was incredibly difficult. Astarion had to hide his deep sorrow while he tried to persuade her to stop the adventure and live out her remaining days in the Underdark, the dark and sunless realm, the only place where he could be with her.

He knew what the near future held. Nothing would hurt as much as watching his beloved age continuously, waiting for her time to pass while he remained unchanged.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you as I promised. Please forgive me," she said during their time in Underdark. Her bright blue eyes, the very eyes he fell in love with, overflowed with guilt.

Astarion wanted her to know that he could never be angry or hate her.

The shovel still lay untouched on the ground, with no sign of being used anytime soon. While the vampire elf sat silently in front of his own grave marker, letting old memories flow through his mind once more,. Both his arms cradled her lifeless body as if she were still alive.

"My beloved, please continue to live on for me. I wish to see you happy for a long time," another of her last requests echoed in his mind. The gentle touch of her frail hand on his cheek still lingers in his heart to this day.

"Jones." Astarion whispers her name again. Tears, which he had not shed for a long time, now streamed down his pale face. "I can't do it," he murmured to her lifeless body. "How can I find happiness without you?"

A golden beam slowly crept in, chasing away the darkness from the vast sky. Yet Astarion's body remained unmoving, just like the eyes of the vampire, which refused to leave the withered face of his beloved for a second. He memorized every detail of her, keeping it in his memory as best as he could. She still looked as beautiful as ever in his eyes—always and forever.

"I wish the next life was real. I hope we'll meet again, live together, and build a family," Astarion whispered softly, planting a tender kiss on the edge of her lips. "Wait for me, darling. I'll follow you soon, no matter where you choose to go."

Finally, he tore his gaze away from her, looking up at the sky once more. For the first time in centuries, he had the chance to gaze at the nearing dawn with full eyes. As the sun peeked over the horizon, followed by the warm rays starting to seep through his skin, cracks began to form, turning his skin into tiny specks of dust.

Before his final consciousness faded, Astarion's thoughts remained vivid. 

This was the most beautiful dawn he had ever witnessed.

[martianbugsbunny]

Here u can have this screenshot of a...idk a thing I found in my notes app this morning

I'm pretty sure when I wrote this I was considering a post-Endgame fic and I was thinking about the "historians will call them best friends" trope and I was like yes...but when they're actually best friends is that ever important? or is the importance of a best friend to history only when the label can be used to ignore a sexual/romantic queer relationship

So I was doing this thing where Bucky thought about how in a couple of years his legacy would probably be erased from Steve's because he was just his best friend, no big deal right? nobody wants to read about that anymore, they want to read about the epic love story with a female British agent and anyway this is literally all I have I'm so annoyed at myself for not following through more because it looks like it would've been amazing and very sad

[bbasmos]

A Case of the Swirly's (And The Blue Balls) - Roquill fic (Post-Endgame).

A Collab of B.B. Asmodeus and Inubaki.

Fandoms: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 1, 2, Avengers: Infinity War/Endgame, Thor: Love & Thunder.

Main pairing: Rocket Raccoon/Peter Quill (Star-Lord).

Rating: Adult, for explicit sex.

Spoilers: Avengers: IW/Endgame, Thor: Love & Thunder, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 1-2, Thor: Love & Thunder.

Synopsis: It all started with his rut. No, scratch that. It all started when Rocket was passing the common room and caught sight of Quill fussing with his ridiculous hair on the reflection of the coffee machine.

Special Dedication:

Happy Birthday, @nerdy-and-dedicated! Also, I want to thank @shelbyinubakilee for collaborating with me, it's always a pleasure to write Roquill smut on Discord with you!

Special warnings: English isn't my 1st language, although Inubaki was wonderful enough to be my beta, if there are more orthographic errors, please let me know to correct them.

All right now let's continue with the fun!

Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3

[naquey]

I think i just like post endgame marvel when it has nothing to do with the avengers. The Marvels, WandaVision, Agatha All Along are all bangers

[burberrycanary]

Still Left with the River (The Paradox of Motion) ∘ a Stucky Post-TFATWS Fix-it

I’ve finished Still Left with the River (The Paradox of Motion), which is a post-Endgame, post-TFATWS Stucky fix-it that involves a lot of food.

Food serves many roles in the story, picking up from how eating together can be social and communal as we see at the end of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Food also holds memories—finding what you ate as a kid again or pulling back up shared memories that haven’t come to mind in a while. And food is part of how this story is a complicated love letter to New York City.

But, especially for Bucky, food is a doorway back into the world. It’s a way to be kind to himself and experience pleasure with his body that was tortured and controlled for so long: turned against him. Food—restaurants, bars—are also a way for Bucky to get out of that brutally bare apartment and be around people again; to have a chance to form new connections in a world where pretty much everyone Bucky has ever loved is gone. What he has left is New York, which like him is still here, however changed—rebuilt over and over, transformed beyond recognition maybe but persisting in its bones, in the essential parts.

But then Steve’s body has experienced a lot of pain in his life, too, and he knows a hell of a lot about loneliness.

In this story when Steve comes back, Bucky is generous enough to want to share with Steve some of what he’s found—parts from their shared past that have endured into the present and some of the tender-pale and fragile-green shoots pushing up out of Bucky’s destroyed and rebuilt life—while Steve is struggling to find his footing in a world that’s once again changed while he was gone.

To borrow a line: I love you. I want us both to eat well.

Of course, Bucky would be generous with Steve. But also, after loss piled on loss, Bucky has somehow gotten back the only other person on earth who could understand so much, who can remember with him. Though regaining something isn’t the same as getting to keep it, which Steve and Bucky know all too well.

“Steve.” Bucky’s thumb runs back and forth through the fine short hairs at the nape of his neck. “C’mon. Come upstairs. You’re gonna love this. Gołąbki and kopytka. They do it right with fried onions and a little sugar on top. Everybody forgets the sugar.”

Leaning closer, Steve thunks his forehead right into Bucky’s, which is a small jarring hurt he didn’t mean.

“But not us.”

“That’s right,” Bucky says quietly. His warm living breath fans out against Steve’s face, from the corner of his mouth across the lower half of his cheek. “But not us. So c’mon, you mook. Up.”

Still Left with the River is a story about survival. It’s a story about food, art and grief.

For those curious, a list of foods in the image from the story are below in the cut.

1) Classic halal cart chicken shawarma

2) Fries, served with aioli not ketchup, that came with their lamb burgers and...

3) Orval trappist ale

4) Grocery store cookies, the kind that come on a plastic tray

5) Pastrami sandwiches

6) Peak summer peaches

7) Sorrel (aka Jamaica)

8) Gołąbki with rice and meat

9) A huge diner breakfast with both pancakes and hash browns

10) Old fashioned sugar cookies

11) Whiskey (I figure Steve has been around enough to pick a good bottle by now)

12) Harissa cake (aka Basbousa)

13) The NYC cheese slice speaks for itself

14) Horchata, and...

15) Oreja tacos

[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."

[allcolorsoftherainbow]

Hello! I am back to Tumblr and also hopefully back to writing and posting so I wanted to share with you this series I just created on AO3 - in contains three collections of drabbles where each one of them follows the story of each Bucky, Sam and then them together, and shows how I imagine them dealing with their struggles after Endgame (and somewhat through and after TFATWS), and then coming together and creating their own little happy and healed reality :) feel free to check it out, it would mean a lot to me!

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3611656

(all three parts are rated M for dealing with heavy topics so make sure to check the tags for each individual part before you get to reading)

[presidentlokis-hornyhelmet]

Tags: Loki & Thor, Thor Feels (Marvel), Post-Endgame

Summary:

Jane gently touched his hand, speaking soflty, "Sif, Val, your people... we all love you. I..I love you."

Thor gave a wry chuckle barely above a whisper, his voice breaking.

"You could never love me much as him." 

[rolandtowen]

it is my duty

The winter after the Blip, Cass gets really, really sick. Sam watches over him and considers where his duty lies.

Read on Ao3 or under the cut!

It is my duty as a Pararescueman to save life and to aid the injured. I will be prepared at all times to perform my assigned duties quickly and efficiently, placing these duties before personal desires and comforts. These things I do, that others may live.

– Pararescue Creed

The first winter after coming back from the Blip, Cass gets really, really sick.

Their pediatrician, Annabelle, explains that he has a more severe strain of the flu. "With everyone coming back so suddenly, diseases have been evolving rapidly," she tells Sam softly in the hall. "The overcrowding in refugee camps, the malnutrition, people coming back carrying viruses and bacteria five years out of date – it's been a lot for global health to control."

"People never tend to think about disease crossing borders," Sam concedes. He'd seen first hand diseases on his tours in Afghanistan that the American public thinks long extinct - tuberculosis, polio, measles. He vividly recalls a boy no older than Cass who'd come to their field hospital, carried by his mother. He'd had hemorrhagic fever, his skin covered in sores, blood flowing freely from his nose.

He didn't survive.

"Cass should be fine," Annabelle reminds him. "It's not going to be pleasant, but Sarah's kept her boys up on their shots, so his body knows how to fight this." She places a hand on Sam's shoulder. "And he's in great hands. Just call me if anything changes, okay?"

Sam nods, and tries not to think about the little boy from Afghanistan. He fails.

***

Cass and AJ usually share a room, but since AJ's not showing symptoms yet, Sam offers to let AJ stay in his room so he can bunk with Cass and keep an eye on him. Sarah shoots him a look, but he insists. "You gotta keep the business going, Sarah. Looking after Cass is the least I can do."

"You're supposed to be here to rest , Sam." She pins him under her gaze but Sam is unyielding. "Fine," she sighs exasperatedly. "But you gotta look after yourself too."

"I will!" Sam insists. "But I'm not gonna run for the hills from a flu, Sar." He picks at one of his fingernails. "You've had to do this all alone for the last five years. I'm more than willing to make up for lost time. Even the sick lost time."

Sarah heads to the store with a list from Sam: Pedialyte, ibuprofen, juice, soup, saline spray, cough suppressant, and a decongestant.

"It's important you get this type of decongestant," Sam had said, writing out 'pseudoephedrine'. "You'll have to ask the pharmacist for it, but that's the kind that actually works. A bunch of the over the counter cold and flu meds use a decongestant that's really only a placebo, so that's why I'm having you get everything separately."

Sarah returns with everything Sam requested. "Cass really likes tomato soup, especially with goldfish on top, so I grabbed plenty of that. I also got some plain chicken stock if he can't keep anything else down -- and the orange juice is his favorite, but you're gonna have to remind him not to drink it immediately after brushing his teeth."

Sam smiles fondly at the mental image. "I got it from here, Sar. AJ, get your butt in here! You're gonna be late for school!" He hollers up the stairs. AJ rushes down the stairwell and out the door with his mother, leaving Sam to watch over Cass.

Cass is still sleeping when Sam cracks the door to the boys' room open, which is a good sign. It's much harder to recover from an illness with sleep deprivation thrown in. Sam assembles the medications he wants Cass to take, before gently shaking the boy awake.

"Hey, Cassie," he murmurs. "Can you sit up for me? Just for a few minutes."

Cass coughs but nods, and Sam helps adjust the pillows on his bed to keep him upright. "I'm gonna take your temperature, yeah?" Sam aims the thermometer at Cass' forehead until it beeps, making a note of the reading: 99.5. "What's your body feel like?"

Cass shivers. "I'm cold, and my throat is sore. My body feels...sore? Or like, tired."

Sam nods. "How's your chest? Your nose?"

"Stuffy. Both of 'em. But I don't feel like coughing a lot."

"That's good to hear, Cass. Here's the plan," Sam pulls up a chair to show Cass each of the medications. "This pill will help bring down your fever -- that's why you're cold and a little achey. This pill will help clear out your nose and make you less stuffy, but we gotta make sure you stay hydrated while taking it, yeah?"

Cass nods in understanding. "Mama said she got my favorite juice."

"That's right, kiddo. We got juice, soup, the works. Do you wanna try some tea for your throat?" Cass nods again. "Okay, we'll start these medications, and I'll make tea for the both of us. You need anything else from the kitchen?"

Cass shakes his head, dutifully taking the pills Sam places in his hand with some Pedialyte. "I'll be right back, Cassie."

Sam makes two cups of his favorite herbal tea, echinacea and licorice, adding a generous amount of honey to Cass' mug. Then, on a whiteboard on the fridge, he carefully writes down the time he'd given Cass his first round of medication, and his temperature -- 99.5 @ 9:39am. By the time he makes it back into the boys' room with the tea, Cass is blowing his nose ferociously and looking downright despondent.

"I cn't breathe through m'nose." Sam can practically feel how congested he must be. "Well, let's give the medicine some time to work. Here's your tea, lots of honey."

Cass cups the warm mug in between his hands and sighs. "I bet it prob'ly smells nice. Cn't tell." Sam chuckles a bit at that. Cass still has that same sarcastic streak he remembers from before the Blip. "You think you can fall back asleep after your tea?" Cass shrugs, and Sam takes that. He knows how tough it is to sleep when he's congested. "You still like Scooby-Doo?"

Sam puts the cartoon on and Cass settles more into his bed, slowly sipping his tea as the bright colors from the TV wash over his face. Halfway through the second episode, Cass’ eyes start to flutter closed, so Sam makes sure his mug makes it onto the nightstand. By the time the third episode starts, Cass is soundly asleep. Sam keeps the cartoon playing at a low volume, and shoots a text to Sarah.

Hey. Cassie's asleep again. I got him to take meds and tea. He's got a fever, but nothing too high. Just congested and achey.

It takes a few minutes but Sarah writes back.

Thanks. AJ has chess club after school so yall will probably be on your own for dinner.

Sam smiles. Tomato soup it is. He glances at Cass, still asleep and snoring softly, before tip-toeing out of the room.

The Wilson house was built in 1922, and Sam knows every creak in the floorboards. And yet, this house feels foreign to him. The pictures on the walls are filled with memories Sam has completely missed out on. Several frames are filled with the boys showing off various fish they’ve caught, grinning from ear to ear. Sam deduces that AJ must’ve won some sort of tournament with his chess club, judging from the photo showing him and a gaggle of boys his age lifting a trophy in the shape of a King piece. Cass has tried out loads of sports, from soccer to flag football, but it seems like his favorite is baseball. Sam wonders if he plays in the same league that Sam had when he was a teenager in Delacroix. He can’t remember the last time he’d been to a game.

It wasn't just the Blip. Sam hadn't been regularly in Delacroix for a while. He'd come home after Riley, after being discharged. But after finding his footing again, he'd gone to DC, getting his degree to become a counselor and work at the VA. Sure, he'd come home for holidays, sometimes the Fourth of July, but he wasn't around more than a couple of times a year.

And then he wasn't around at all for a whole five years.

And yeah, other people came back and had nothing. He's heard of more than one Blip survivor returning only to find out that their family members or lovers had died in their absence. But his inner counselor whispers that it’s not about comparison: trauma is still trauma. Sam sighs. Now's not the time, he tells himself. Not when you've got a sick kid under your watch.

But when has it ever been the time?

Sam had been on his second tour when Joe had died. Freak heart attack, Sarah could have never seen it coming. He remembers getting a call on his base in Afghanistan – a rarity given the time difference between Afghanistan and Louisiana – and he knew. A phone call from Louisiana meant that something had gone horribly wrong. He’d picked up the receiver and heard Sarah’s shaky breathing, the clamor of hospital staff in the background, and felt a wave of guilt wash over him when he felt relief that it wasn’t the boys.

The Air Force had given him leave to attend Joe’s funeral, and Riley had damn near forced him to take it. The whole time he was in Delacroix, he’d felt like an imposter. He knew the streets, the faces of the neighbors, but he’d been gone for so long, he felt like an outsider peering in. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t bear to stay any longer than necessary after his discharge. After Riley.

He turns his pararescue oath over and over in his head. It is my duty as a Pararescueman to save life and to aid the injured. He’d spent almost eight years in Afghanistan trying to do just that – with his fellow servicemembers and civilians alike. He’d gone back to school after his discharge to be a counselor for veterans and work at the VA. He’d followed Captain America in taking down SHIELD/HYDRA, spent years tailing Bucky, became an Avenger, and then became a fugitive, wandering the world and trying to right wrongs until the Blip.

And yet.

There’s a creeping feeling in Sam’s gut that tells him he hasn’t been doing his duties. He’d always thought that the second line – placing these duties before personal desires and comforts – required him to place his duties over his family. But standing in his childhood living room, listening to his nephew’s congested snores, Sam has a revelation.

***

“I’m not going to take the shield.”

Sarah’s head whips around to look at him. “You know how I feel about this whole,” she gestures with her spoon, “‘Captain America’ thing, but I hope you’re not turning down that shield for me.”

Sam sighs. “It’s not just you – it’s the boys too,” he pauses, trying to figure out how to phrase his revelation. “I thought, all these years, that what I was doing was my duty, my responsibility –” Sarah looks like she wants to say something, but she stays silent, letting Sam finish – “but I realized today, that I’ve just been running from Delacroix. From you.” He lets out a shaky breath. “I have a duty to my family too. And I haven’t been here. Even before the Blip, I wasn’t here for you and the boys. Even when I came for Joe’s funeral, I was just a ghost walking through this house.” Sam looks up at his little sister. “Being here is painful. After everything.”

Sarah nods in understanding. “It’s painful for me, too.” She sets her spoon down with a heavy sigh. “But I stay because I think it’s what mom and dad would want. They loved this town, even though it was the death of them.”

“They thought it could be better,” Sam agrees. “And now it is. I just wish they were here to see it.”

“I want to stay, Sar. And I don’t think I can do that if I become Captain America. You deserve to have a present brother – they boys deserve to see their uncle more than once a year. And if I pick up that shield…I feel like I’m putting you all in danger. I can’t do that, not now that I’ve gotten you all back.”

Sarah’s eyes grow wet as Sam talks, and she sits down at the table to put an arm around him. “I’m not gonna lie, I want you to stay here. But you gotta be doing this because it’s what you think is right, not because it’s what you think I want.”

Sam takes a grounding breath. “I’m sure. I’ve already been talking with someone at the Smithsonian. I guess – I just needed a push.”

Sarah chuckles wetly. “Well, I’m sure Cass will be happy to hear that his flu convinced you to stay.”

Sam breathes in, taking in the warmth of his sister’s arms, the smell of their kitchen, the safety of their home. And he stays.

[psychiccatpanda]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Captain America (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts Additional Tags: Cemetery, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Steve Rogers Dies, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Lives, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Sad with a Happy Ending Summary:

In the snow, Bucky Barnes made his way to the cemetery. He'd spent the morning at the World War II Memorial in DC, with the snow dusting the bronze wreaths there. Now, in Arlington, he stood among the headstones wreaths over his arm to find his friends. At the last one, he realized he wasn't alone. Tony Stark stood at Steve's gravesite, one sleeve of his wool coat pinned up, a reminder of that last battle. Neither of them spoke, not wanting to break the solemn silence of the place. When they left, though, they walked in the same direction.

This fic comes from a summary (above) I wrote up during one of the Bucky Barnes Bingo 2023 parties.

Chapter 2 summary:  A year has passed... and this year some of his living friends remind him they're around too.

(They will interact, I promise!  They just have to heal enough on their own to get to the part where they can work through their stuff together.)

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Steve + text posts pt. 3/?

[justiceiswater]

ugh what a horrible way to refer to her. even affair baby would be better. but he knows so thats great news! everyone is there! maybe not a great opportunity but how many of those is she gonna get. its time everyone learned she exists.

Orphan - 2

Starring: Fem!Reader and MCU characters! Contents: Spoilers for Endgame!! Takes place after the Attack on New York and The Snappening and deals with both. Angst, confusion, loneliness, sadness, loss, a twinge of humour maybe, clarifications, more mystery.

2. Back to the Roots

You’ve managed to get a bed in a hostel, probably paying overprize now that the demand has risen suddenly. Rumours fly that the returned are starting to find abandoned homes in the outskirts of the city, but it’s just rumours and you don’t really feel like heading further out considering how things are looking just on Manhattan. Derelict. New York City has been a ghost town, and even now as the ghosts have taken physical form it’s going to take a lot of work to set things right.

Your mind is far from the worries of what’s to come.

Lying on your stomach on the squeaky bed, a fat stack of papers rests before you together with a very fancy cell phone (accompanied by charger and ear plugs). There’s a recording on that which you haven’t dared watch yet, favouring the documents instead…and those you’ve read and re-read so many times you can almost recite the contents by heart.

Keep reading

[bbasmos]

La Bomba - Roquill fic (Español) - Masterpost.

Fandoms: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 1, 2, Avengers: Infinity War/Endgame, Thor: Love & Thunder.

Pareja principal: Rocket Raccoon/Peter Quill (Star-Lord). Peter Quill (Star-Lord)/Thor (no se lo tomen en serio, es solo para volver loco a Rocket).

Rating: Adulto, por sexo explícito.

Categorías: Realidad Alterna Post-Endgame, Primera Vez, Problemas de Comunicación porque Peter y Rocket son Idiotas (y Thor también), Romance, Humor, Drama, SMUT/Contenido Sexual Explícito, Rocket POV, Peter Quill/Star-Lord POV, Bottom Rocket, Top Peter.

Spoilers: Avengers: IW/Endgame, Thor: Love & Thunder, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 1-2.

Sinopsis: Era una buena mañana. Con el equipo de regreso, comenzando otra misión, haciendo lo que Guardianes eran conocidos por hacer—Raramente, Rocket sentía esta claridad al levantarse y recorrer la cocina del Benatar buscando por algo de café terrano. Luego, se tropezó con Thor saliendo de la cabina de Quill completamente desaliñado y medio desnudo—el café se volvió ácido en su lengua.

Dedicatoria especial: ¡A Inubaki y a Peter Quill! ¡Feliz Cumpleaños suuuuuuper atrasado, amiga! 

Estatus: WIP - En progreso.

Arte: @shelbyinubakilee

Cover: @bbasmos

Ch 1 / Ch 2 

[wooneygoblin]

me thinking about 90s college age byler au where mike actually plays that guitar we know he has

[hamsterdads]

what do you want?