#anonymous avengers

[darke15]

hi darke! just wondering if you're going to continue the fic anytime soon? i need to know what happens next !

Hello, love! 🖤🖤🖤

This is a difficult question...but I know everyone is wondering where I've been, so I might as well answer it as best I can.

The easy answer is I've found a new hyper-fixation that has made me incredibly happy [unlike Marvel has made me in the past few years]

The hard answer is...I haven't enjoyed writing at all in the past year. That's not to say that I won't be back—I have every intention of finishing BS:A [and TS&TS + BS:O]—but when I dread sitting down to write, I know there's a problem.

This probably stems from a couple things.

1-Burnout. I've been going at BS:A hard for nearly three years. I put more hours into BS:A than I have my job. And I didn't have any breaks. Which, at the time, I didn't feel I needed but, boy, am I feeling it now and I felt it for most of 2023.

2-I've lost my love for the MCU. Now, this one's not on me [jk it's totally on me] I haven't enjoyed a Marvel project in a long time and it's where I draw a lot of my inspiration from [obviously] I still have hope in a few upcoming projects but the hater in me is already pre-disappointed. As I've watched the MCU devolve into chaos these past few years, I can't help but feel I subconsciously pulled those vibes into the BS:U and I hate it; which leads me into...

3-I've lost confidence in my writing. Fuck. That stings to write. With most of my projects, I can look back on them with pride. TS&TS S1 and S2, TRR, any chapters of BS:A I did pre-2023 are all things I'm super proud of and love to death. But, all of 2023, I felt as though I was just slapping words into a Google Doc and calling it good. And I don't like that feeling. Y'all deserve better.

Mix that together with a few other things [real world problems accidentally seeping into projects and making them more complicated, personal issues, and other writer trouble] and you have a pretty shitty cake.

All that to say, I will be back. I promise. But I won't be back until I'm in a place that I feel like writing for the fun of it again and that I can deliver chapters and content that y'all deserve and that I can say I'm proud of.

—Darke

#talk to me goose #anonymous avengers #bsa updates

[midastouch013]

Scars and All

Based on this request

Summary: You and Natasha have been dating for almost a year, and so what happens when you finally find out why things never get steamy

Warnings: Insecurity, Scars, Flashbacks of Redroom. Super soft Nat.

---

You and Natasha had been dating for close to a year now, having moved in a month ago to the floor Tony had given the both of you happy to see his, and you quote ' favourite spider' so in love, and though your relationship was incredible in so many ways, there was one aspect that sometimes caused a bit of frustration. Every time things got a little bit steamy, Natasha would freeze up. And every time it left you confused, more than before with every occurrence.

It happened again tonight. You were tangled up in each other, lips locked in a passionate kiss, hands exploring, when Natasha suddenly pulled back, her breath uneven.

"Stop," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You froze, your heart pounding. You were frustrated, sure, but you respected Natasha enough to honor her wishes. With a heavy sigh, you pulled away, trying to hide your disappointment.

"Are you okay?" you asked softly, concern evident in your voice.

She nodded, avoiding your gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… not feeling it right now."

You couldn't help but feel disappointed, but you didn't want to show it. Instead, you forced a small smile and said, "Okay. I'm just gonna… take a cold shower then."

Without waiting for a response, you got up and made your way to the bathroom, leaving Natasha alone on the bed.

The cold water did little to wash away your disappointment. You couldn't shake the feeling of frustration, unable to understand why Natasha kept pulling away.

After what felt like an eternity under the icy spray, you finally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. As you dried off and got dressed, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

When you emerged from the bathroom, you found Natasha lost in her own world, her eyes unfocused as she begged someone she had only told you about once, Madame B, not to hit her.

Your heart broke at the sight. You knew Natasha was reliving a moment from her past, a nightmare from her time in the Red Room. Without a second thought, you crossed the room and enveloped her in a tight hug, hoping to ground her in the present, having it done many times previously.

"Nat, it's me," you whispered, your voice soft and soothing. "You're safe now. You're with me."

Slowly, Natasha's breathing began to steady, and the tension in her body started to ease. She clung to you, burying her face in the crook of your neck as she struggled to break free from the memories that haunted her.

You held her close, whispering words of comfort and reassurance until she finally began to relax in your arms.

After Natasha falls asleep in your arms, you gently tuck her under the covers, making sure she's comfortable. With a lingering glance, you quietly slip out of the room, closing the door softly behind you.

You make your way downstairs and pull out your phone, dialing Yelena's number. She picks up after a couple of rings.

"Hey," she says, her voice filled with concern. "Is everything okay?"

You hesitate for a moment, not sure how to explain what just happened with Natasha.

"Not really," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Nat had a flashback… to the Red Room, I think."

There's a pause on the other end of the line before Yelena speaks again. "Is she okay now?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping," you reply. "But… I don't know what to do, Yelena. Every time things start to get… intimate, she freezes up. I can't shake the feeling that it's connected somehow."

There's a thoughtful silence before Yelena speaks again. "Does my sestra shower with the door closed?"

You frown, confused by the seemingly random question. "Uh, yeah, she does. Why?"

Yelena hums thoughtfully. "And does she ever… mention anything about about her post-missions "

Your heart skips a beat as the pieces start to click into place. "No, she doesn't even let me see her till she's in pajamas. Why?"

Yelena lets out a heavy sigh. "Look, I think… Y/n, you're pretty smart, so I'm surprised I have to be telling you this, but my sister is insecure about something. And maybe, just maybe, that's why she keeps pulling away."

"But what insecurity?" you question," She-"

Before you can say anything else, Yelena interrupts you. "Sorry, I have to go. Kate's calling me. Just… be there for her, okay? She needs you."

After Yelena hangs up, more incidents with Natasha flash through your mind. Little moments that, when looked at together, begin to form a pattern. And suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks. Natasha's insecurity is about her scars.

Just as you're connecting the dots, Natasha comes downstairs to grab something to eat. Wordlessly, you grab her by the hips and lift her up.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she squeals, trying to wriggle out of your grasp.

Ignoring her protests, you carry her back upstairs to your room. Once there, you gently set her down on the edge of the bed, ignoring her playful protests.

"Okay, seriously, what's going on?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.

You don't answer right away. Instead, you kneel down on the floor in front of her, taking her hands in yours.

"Tasha, I love you," you begin, your voice steady. "And I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything. I know… I know that something happened tonight, something that triggered a flashback. And I think… I think I know what it is."

Natasha's eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, she looks like she might bolt. But then she takes a deep breath and meets your gaze.

"You do?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, squeezing her hands gently while taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say. "Natasha, do you not like your scars?" you ask gently.

Natasha's defenses go up immediately, and she tries to deflect the situation with humor. "What, these old things?" she says, gesturing to her scars with a forced smirk. "Just battle wounds, nothing to worry about."

But you're firm in your resolve. You don't let her deflect this time. "Nat, please," you say, your voice pleading. "I need you to be honest with me."

She sighs, the forced smile slipping from her face. "Fine," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Fine, you want the truth? I hate them, okay? I hate the way they look. I hate what they remind me of."

Your heart breaks at her words, but you keep your voice steady. "Why, Nat? Why do you hate them so much?"

And then she confesses, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Because I'm afraid, okay? I'm afraid that when you see them, you'll finally realize that you're dating a monster. A cold-blooded murderer. I'm afraid that you'll look at me and see nothing but a killer. And I love you so much, and I don't want to lose you. But I'm afraid that these scars will scare you away. That I don't look… sexy with my scars and all."

Tears fill her eyes as she speaks, and you feel your heart breaking all over again.

You feel a surge of anger and hurt at Natasha's admission. How could she think of herself like that? And how could she think that you would ever see her that way?

"You really think that?" you say, your voice coming out a bit harsher than you intended. "That I would see you like that? That I would ever think of you as a monster? God, Natasha, how could you even think that?"

Natasha flinches at your words, and for a moment, you regret the harshness of your tone. But then you take a deep breath and soften your voice.

"I'm sorry, It wasn't supposed to sound so rude, but… I get it, Nat," you continue, your voice gentle now. "I get that you're scared. And I understand why you feel that way. Even if I've not been through what you've been through, I'd like to think that I get it. But you need to know that I love you, scars and all. And I would never, ever think of you as anything less than amazing."

You feel Natasha's arms tighten around you, and you know that she's listening, really listening, to what you're saying.

"And another thing," you add, your voice firm now. "You need to stop calling yourself those hateful things. You are not a monster, Natasha. You are not a cold-blooded murderer. You are a hero, you are the role model to millions of kids out there, and you're my girlfriend. There's no way in hell could you be what you claim to be. Don't you ever forget that."

Natasha doesn't say anything in response, and for a moment, you worry that you've pushed her too far. But then she pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting yours.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for… for loving me, scars and all."

You shush her with a gentle finger to her lips. " What have I told you about that?" you ask in a tutting tone.

She chuckled breathily, a faint smile on her face " Never thank you unless I don't want dinner that night"

You look into Natasha's eyes, your heart overflowing with love and reassurance. Without saying a word, you lift her (Well yours, but anything that was yours was hers) t-shirt and leant in to press a gentle kiss to one of her scars, then another, and another, until you'd kissed each one.

Each kiss is an act of reassurance, a silent declaration of how beautiful and attractive you find her scars. And with each kiss, you feel Natasha's tension slowly melting away, replaced by a sense of peace and acceptance.

When you finally pull back, Natasha is looking at you with tear-filled eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I love you" she whispers, her voice filled with emotion.

" I love you more"

"Willing to bet on it?"

--

#avengers #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha x you #anon ask #anonymous #natasha romanoff hurt/comfort #natasha x y/n #natasha marvel #yelena and natasha

[calyssmarviss]

evandrin is kissing zerxus so tenderly on the mouth

and i took it as a challenge

#my dude i don’t know what you were trying to achieve by sending me this but this is what i made of it #zerxus ilerez #evandrin alterra #zerxus x evandrin #first knights of avalir #critical role #exandria unlimited #exu calamity #holy avenger #why do i keep on wanting to draw armor #my art #critrole fanart #anonymous

[sarcastictonystark]

I inadvertently replaced my habit of talking to people online with a new habit where I drink enough water. Working on a solution.

#tony stark #ask tony stark #avengers #the avengers #iron man #anonymous

[couldtransitionsaveher]

TONY STARK/IRON MAN from IRON MAN (MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE)

JUSTIFICATION:

"I can't explain it well, but I think maybe she'd be so much happier as a beautiful woman. I think maybe it'd help her stop with self destructive tendencies. I think she should wear long shimmery dresses. Maybe it'd even help her with her daddy issues! (I haven't seen the MCU in a long time, I'm rather disillusioned, but I feel this in my heart. It's also 1am, sorry for rambling.)" - Anonymous

Reminder: Submissions are always open! Submit here!

Did you make your daily click today?

#could transition have saved her #tony stark #iron man #avengers #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel comics #transgender #trans hc #anonymous submission

[chiefdirector]

How do you think waking up next to Pietro Maximoff would be like? (I.E. Tangled in eachother, spooing, one on top of the other, is one falling of the bed ect ect)

Waking up next to Pietro Maximoff include…

Let me just establish that Pietro is one clingy bastard.

Like so much so that it becomes a battle to get out of bed for any reason...

Need to pee? Nope, you can hold it

Have to go to work? Call in sick.

Someone at the door? No, there isn't. Go back to sleep.

The only way to get out of the tangle of limbs you find yourself in every morning is to get out before he wakes up.

But if he wakes up first, he does like to take a moment to watch you sleep

He lives such a fast-paced lifestyle which makes these moments so much more special for him

Some mornings, when you both have nothing planned, he speeds down to a local bagel cart to order the two of you breakfast

He once tried to cook it himself but he ended up burning it completely

he was then banned from the kitchens for a month

He does, however, brew the best cup of coffee in the mornings

Pietro's favourite thing, after spending time with his sister, is to cuddle up with his partner, murmuring over coffee on a slow morning.

All in all, waking up with Pietro is a 10/10 experience and is highly recommendable.

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee?

#chiefdirector #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff headcanon #pietro maximoff #anonymous #request #headcanon #marvel #avengers: age of ultron

[beheworthy]

Which human outfit did Thor wear do you like more?

The one and only:

The bestest most perfect outfit ever!!!! (ah yes, alcohol in hand!)

I love these two as well:

(these precious minutes in Avengers4 where he is the King of Asgard AND confident and cool are everything to me)

#answers #anonymous #thor #thor odinson #outfits #avengers age of ultron #thor the dark world #avengers endgame #literally none of the outfits in the relationship montage in thor4 were good #only the pink tee when he makes breakfast is passable #cause it was the one time this genius director got color theory right #that his fans can't shut up abt thor4 being all abt and he got wrong on most occasions

[unearthlydust]

I’m still mad that Steve left Bucky in endgame. Now I’m not saying that Steve didn’t deserve to be happy and go back to be with Peggy because that I am happy about, but in a franchise full of unrealistic things like superheros and nano tech, Steve leaving Bucky after working so hard to get him back is the MOST unrealistic thing in the entire franchise. Because you’re telling me that Steve thought Bucky died in 1944/1945 went 70 years thinking he was dead (yes he was frozen for most of that but still), found out he was alive and tried getting him back just for Bucky to go on the run, find him again 2 years later and started a MASSIVE fight over him, lost him again so the Wakandans can get the shit out of his head, saw him again just to lose him hours later because Bucky turned to dust, spend 5 years mourning his best friend and trying to figure out how to not only save Bucky but half the universe just to FINALLY get him back and can now spend the rest of their lives together JUST TO LEAVE HIM AND NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN. and even if we take all of that out, if we learnt one thing from the Captain America trilogy it’s that STEVEN GRANT ROGERS IS STUBBORN AS HELL. So you’re gonna tell me that Steve is now spending his life with Peggy and not wanting to stop every major thing that happened in the U.S especially with fanons that the winter soldier was the cause of those major events.

Anyway I’m done venting now have a good day/night

Hi!

I understand they wanted to retire Steve and give him a happy ending, but making him stay in the past and hide his true self from others while also carrying massive ptsd and doing nothing to change anything that could undo the future doesn't sound like such a sweet ending to me... :/

#anonymous #all the things he went through... the things he knows... the people he left behind... to stay in the past... and he didn't go mad? 🥲 #steeeve 🥺 #steve rogers #avengers: endgame #unearthlydust replies

[darke15]

Listen, I just need a whole post about Ghost’s outfits, because honey that dress you referenced in that last ask. I had a picture in my head, but what you referenced was way better. 😊😊😊 I welcome all ghost and bs:a content!

First of all, so sorry this took me so long to respond, I went a lil overboard. Second of all, damn you for making me finally do this (it's been on my to-do list for ages)

Seriously, though, I had a lot of fun with this and I just pulled some fits from random chapters so if you'd like to see anything specific, lemme know and I'd be glad to do them.

It also just occurred to me that I don't know how far along you are so some of this may be spoilers...maybe? Just read with caution, I suppose 😀

Starting off with CH1 we've got a tactical and practical fit. Something that would be fairly easy to pull together in a jam (if a god attacked a helicarrier and you were forced to defend the earth from him and an alien army on a random Tuesday) The thermal long sleeve is light and breathable but will keep you warm if you need it. It also provides a needed layer between skin and tac vest. Pants from being a SHIELD mechanic come in handy, they're heavy duty and padded. Complete the look with durable boots, glasses and a hat to keep the sun outta your face and a few more accessories and you're ready to go.

Covering from an everyday out on the town look to a stay at home bc you broke your leg tryna stop the Winter Soldier from killing Captain America look, you're ready for anything and everything...until the Winter Soldier breaks into your house.

From fixing up the Firebird in DC to tinkering with a tractor in New Eden, your work clothes go from stylish in the city to practical outside of town.

Lastly (my personal favorite and possible spoiler) the Villain Arc. A warm coat for traveling through the night and staying in forgotten safehouses. Durable pants and boots for fights, planned and unplanned. And a bag big enough for all the essentials.

Seriously lemme know if you want more of these, this was a lot of fun. 😌

#talk to me goose #anonymous avengers #anonymous avengers ask away #ask me things #ask me literally anything #references

[midastouch013]

"Find Me Attractive Again"

Based on this request

Summary: You had a wonderful girlfriend, and so what happens when you discover she has an eating disorder

Warnings: Eating disorder, Hurt Nat, Sad Nat, Neglecting Y/n. Panic Attacks. Purging, throwing up. Major hurt/comfort, from both sides.

P.S I wasn't really satisfied with the ending, so I apologise. I also took my own spin on it since it was kind vague, so I hope you like it'.

P.S.S And also, after such heavy fics, I'd really like for someone to drop me a fluffy one, Not just Nat, any Marvel woman please.

-----------

It was a typical summer day in New York City when your paths first crossed. You, wrapped up in the chaos of your medical residency, were rushing through the streets, white coat flapping behind you like a superhero’s cape, while Natasha Romanoff, the infamous Black Widow, was navigating the crowds with the ease of someone who had seen it all.

It was at a street corner where fate decided to intervene, in the form of an iced coffee and a collision. Natasha, in her sleek elegance, accidentally bumped into you, sending her cold drink cascading down your front.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Her voice was a mix of genuine contrition and a hint of amusement.

You blinked, the cold seeping through your shirt, but you couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation. “Well, at least it’s a hot day,” you replied, trying to brush off the mess.

Natasha quickly handed you some napkins, her green eyes twinkling with amusement. "You're a humour one I see"

"That I am" you grinned "I've also cost you your coffee"

Natasha went to open her mouth, but you spoke instead.

“Let me make it up to you. Can I buy you another drink?”

"But I'm the one who spilt mine on you?" her eyebrow raised as she questioned.

"And?"

"I should be the one buying for you?"

You're smile didn't falter " Where's the chivalry in that?"

And that was the start of it all. What began as a clumsy encounter turned into a friendship neither of you expected. Natasha’s charm, mixed with her trademark snark, drew you in like a moth to a flame. Soon, the two of you were spending your precious free time together, swapping stories over drinks or taking long walks through the city.

Despite her guarded nature, Natasha opened up to you in ways she hadn’t with anyone else. You became her confidante, her sanctuary in a world filled with chaos and danger. And in turn, you found solace in her presence, a respite from the relentless demands of your residency.

As your friendship deepened, so did your feelings for her. You found yourself falling for the enigmatic Avenger, captivated by her strength, her wit, and the vulnerability she only showed to you. And one day, gathering every ounce of courage you had, you asked her out on a date.

To your delight, Natasha said yes, her smile lighting up the room in a way you had never seen before. And just like that, your friendship blossomed into something more, a new chapter in both of your lives.

Now, as you walked hand in hand through the bustling streets of New York, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. With Natasha by your side, you felt invincible, ready to take on whatever challenges life threw your way.

Little did you know, however, that behind the redhead’s confident facade lay a secret she was desperate to keep hidden. An invisible battle she fought every day, one that threatened to consume her from within.

And so, all it would take for you to find out, as a plate of untouched food, and certain other stuff

---

The elevator door opened with a ding, admitting you into the familiar warmth of your shared home (Floor in the compound that Tony had so happily given) with Natasha. The faint scent of breakfast lingered in the air, a reminder of the meal you had meticulously prepared before your short 12-hour shift at the hospital.

But as you stepped further into the living space, your brow furrowed in confusion. The plate of food you had set out for Natasha sat untouched on the dining table, a solitary fork resting against the edge.

"Nat?" you called out, your voice echoing in the quiet apartment. There was no response, just the eerie stillness of an empty room.

Concern gnawed at the edges of your mind as you ventured further into the living space, scanning every corner for any sign of your elusive girlfriend. But Natasha was nowhere to be found.

However, before you could think what to do next, the sound of retching echoed through the apartment, sending a shiver of dread down your spine. Without a moment's hesitation, you bolted towards the bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you flung open the door, the sight that greeted you was enough to make your stomach churn. There stood Natasha, hunched over the toilet, her face contorted in agony as she forced herself to purge.

Instinct took over as you rushed to her side, your hands reaching out to grasp hers and pull them away from her mouth. "Nat, stop," you urged, your voice laced with urgency and concern.

For a moment, she resisted, the muscles in her arm tense with the effort of her struggle. But slowly, reluctantly, she relented, allowing you to pry her fingers away from their self-destructive task.

The sight of her trembling form, tears glistening in her eyes, tore at your heartstrings like nothing else. You wanted to wrap her in your arms, to shield her from the demons that haunted her, but you knew that this was a battle she had to fight on her own terms.

Gently, you guided her away from the toilet, leading her to the sink where you wet a washcloth and pressed it against her clammy forehead. "It's okay, Nat," you murmured, your voice a soothing balm against the turmoil raging within her.

As you helped Natasha up from the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, her silence weighed heavily in the air, a palpable barrier between you. You guided her to the bed, her movements sluggish and unsteady, and gently urged her to sit down while you prepared a bath.

With practiced efficiency, you filled the tub with warm water, adding a few drops of lavender oil to help soothe her frazzled nerves. But as you turned to help Natasha undress, you noticed the way she recoiled from your touch, her body tensing at the slightest contact.

Your heart ached at the sight, a pang of sadness settling in the pit of your stomach. You had always prided yourself on being there for Natasha, on offering her the unwavering support and love she so desperately needed. But now, faced with her silent withdrawal, you felt utterly helpless, like a bystander watching helplessly as a storm raged on the horizon.

With a heavy sigh, you stepped back, giving Natasha the space she seemed to need. You watched in silence as she rose from the bed, her movements slow and deliberate, before making her way to the bathroom.

It was only then that you noticed the small click of the lock as she closed the door behind her, a barrier sealing her off from the outside world. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, a stark reminder of the walls Natasha had built around herself, walls that even you, with all your love and devotion, could not penetrate.

For a moment, you stood there in the empty room, the weight of Natasha's silence bearing down on you like a leaden cloak. But then, with a resolute shake of your head, you pushed aside your own doubts and fears, determined to stand by her side no matter what.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and made your way to the bathroom door, your hand poised to knock. But at the last moment, you hesitated, the sound of running water and Natasha's soft sobs echoing through the wood.

But when the sound of retching pierced through the closed bathroom door, a surge of panic shot through you like a bolt of lightning. Without a second thought, you abandoned your plans to change and rushed back to the bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

With a swift motion, you twisted the doorknob, but to your dismay, it refused to budge. Locked. The realization sent a fresh wave of fear coursing through your veins, igniting a primal instinct to protect Natasha at all costs.

"Nat, open the door!" you called out, your voice tinged with desperation. But there was no response, just the sickening sound of her struggle echoing through the small space.

With a burst of adrenaline-fueled determination, you threw your weight against the door, the wood groaning in protest as it gave way beneath your force. For a moment, everything seemed to blur together in a haze of motion and sound, until finally, the door swung open with a resounding crash.

And there she was, hunched over the toilet once more, her body wracked with violent spasms as she forced herself to purge. Without hesitation, you rushed to her side, your hands reaching out to grasp hers and pull them away from their self-destructive task.

"Nat, please stop," you pleaded, your voice cracking with emotion. But this time, there was no resistance, no struggle against your touch. Instead, Natasha collapsed against you, her tears mingling with the cool touch of your skin.

With a sense of resolve, you refused to leave Natasha alone in the bathroom this time. Instead, you stayed by her side, offering silent support as she struggled with the demons that haunted her.

As the water continued to run, filling the tub with warm, comforting steam, you gently guided Natasha towards it. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes cast downwards, before finally sinking into the water with a heavy sigh.

You stood by the tub, your presence a silent reassurance as Natasha submerged herself beneath the surface, her shoulders tense with the weight of her burdens. With a soft exhale, you reached for the shampoo, pouring a small amount into your palm before lathering it into her hair with gentle, soothing strokes.

"I won't look," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I promise."

Natasha remained silent, her gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the confines of the bathroom. But you could sense the tension in her body, the invisible barriers she had erected to keep you at arm's length.

Undeterred, you continued to wash her hair, your fingers working through the tangles with practiced precision. With each stroke, you hoped to chip away at the walls she had built around herself, to offer her a glimpse of the love and acceptance that lay waiting on the other side.

But despite your best efforts, Natasha remained distant, her silence a heavy weight in the air between you. It was as if she had retreated into herself, lost in the labyrinth of her own thoughts and fears.

With a heavy heart, you finished washing her hair, rinsing away the suds with gentle care. Then, reaching for the washcloth, you began to bathe her body, moving with slow, deliberate motions as you washed away the stains of the outside world.

Gently, you lifted Natasha from the bathtub, her body feeling almost weightless in your arms. The sight of her frail form, bones protruding beneath the thin veil of her skin, sent a shiver of concern down your spine. It was a stark reminder of the toll her eating disorder had taken on her body, a silent battle she fought day in and day out.

With tender care, you carried her back to the bed, laying her down with the utmost gentleness. You tucked the blankets around her, the soft fabric a comforting cocoon against the cold reality of her struggles.

As Natasha lay there, her eyes distant and unfocused, you made your way to the kitchen, your mind racing with thoughts of how to help her. You knew that she needed nourishment, both for her body and her soul, but convincing her to eat was a battle in itself.

With a determined resolve, you rummaged through the pantry, searching for something light and easy to stomach. Finally, you settled on a plate of sliced fruit, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to the darkness that threatened to consume Natasha from within.

Returning to the bedroom, you found Natasha still lying there, her gaze fixed on some invisible point in the distance. Carefully, you placed the plate of fruit on the bedside table, hoping that the sight of it would stir something within her.

"Nat," you said softly, your voice a gentle reminder of your presence. "I brought you a snack. It's just some fruit. Would you like some?"

For a moment, there was no response, just the steady rise and fall of Natasha's chest as she breathed in and out. But then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, she reached out a trembling hand, fingers curling around a slice of apple.

You held your breath, watching intently as Natasha brought the fruit to her lips, her movements hesitant and uncertain. But then, with a small nod of encouragement from you, she took a tentative bite, the sweetness of the apple filling the air between you.

A sense of relief washed over you as you watched Natasha eat, each bite a small victory in the battle against her eating disorder.

As Natasha slowly nibbled on the fruit, you settled beside her on the bed, the familiar weight of her body a comforting anchor in the storm of uncertainty. With a soft click of the remote, you turned on the television, the familiar theme song of F.R.I.E.N.D.S filling the room with its nostalgic melody.

You glanced over at Natasha, her gaze fixed on the screen, her lips curved ever so slightly in the beginnings of a smile. It was a small victory, a glimmer of light in the darkness that threatened to consume her.

With a tender smile of your own, you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against your side. The warmth of her body pressed against yours, the steady rhythm of her breath a soothing lullaby in the quiet of the night.

Together, you watched as the familiar antics of Ross, Rachel, Monica, Chandler, Joey, and Phoebe unfolded on the screen before you. The laughter of the characters, the camaraderie of their friendships, served as a reminder of the bonds that held you and Natasha together, even in the darkest of times.

And as the episode came to an end, you turned to Natasha, the ghost of a smile still lingering on her lips. "Feeling a little better?" you asked softly, your voice a gentle caress against the silence of the room.

Natasha hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. But then, with a small nod of her head, she leaned into your embrace, her body relaxing against yours.

It was a small victory, a flicker of hope in the midst of despair. But for now, in this moment of quiet intimacy, it was enough. Together, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm that came your way. As you snuggled into Natasha, the fragile contours of her body pressed against yours, you couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you. With each delicate curve of her form, you could feel the sharp edges of her bones, a painful reminder of the toll her eating disorder had taken on her.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you held her close, the weight of her fragility pressing down on you like a leaden weight. "Why, Nat?" you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

For a moment, there was only silence, the weight of Natasha's unspoken pain hanging heavy in the air between you. But then, as your grip tightened around her, almost as if you were clinging to her for dear life, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I..." she began, her words faltering as if caught in the tangled web of her thoughts. But then, with a small shake of her head, she fell silent once more, the words hanging between you like an unspoken promise.

--

As you thought Natasha had drifted off to sleep, you reached for your phone, the glow of the screen illuminating the dimly lit room. With a deep breath, you dialed the number for the hospital, your heart pounding in your chest as you prepared to make a decision that would change everything.

"Hello, this is Dr. Y/l/n," you began, your voice steady despite the nerves that churned in the pit of your stomach. "I need to take the next month off."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of a hesitant voice. "Dr. Y/l/n, are you sure? We're short-staffed as it is, and your patients—"

"I'm sure," you interrupted, your tone firm and unwavering. "I've already made up my mind."

The person on the other end of the line hesitated, clearly taken aback by your sudden decision. "But Dr. Y/l/n you're one of our top surgeons. We can't afford to lose you—"

"I understand that," you replied, your voice tinged with frustration. "But right now, I need to take care of someone who needs me more than anyone else."

There was a moment of silence as the gravity of your words hung heavy in the air between you. And then, with a resigned sigh, the person on the other end of the line relented, agreeing to grant you the time off on the condition that you'd go unpaid for the month.

As you ended the call, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. You knew that taking time off from the hospital was a risk, but in that moment, the only thing that mattered was being there for Natasha when she needed you most.

But as you turned to check on her, you realized that she had been awake the whole time, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Natasha's voice cut through the silence of the room, her words heavy with emotion. "Why did you do that?" she asked, her eyes searching yours for answers.

You met her gaze, the weight of her question hanging heavy in the air between you. Taking a deep breath, you reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, your fingers lingering against her cheek.

"Because you needed me," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Because I love you, Natasha, and I would do anything for you."

Tears welled in Natasha's eyes as she listened to your words, her expression a mix of gratitude and disbelief. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. "For everything."

As Natasha's words hung in the air, a heavy silence settled between you, punctuated only by the soft hum of the room's ventilation system. You could see the turmoil swirling behind her eyes, the weight of her burdens threatening to crush her beneath their weight.

"Why did you do that, Natasha?" you asked gently, your voice laced with concern. "Why do you hurt yourself like this?"

Natasha hesitated for a moment, her gaze drifting away from yours as she searched for the words to explain the unexplainable. "It's… it's complicated," she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Try me," you urged, your tone soft and understanding. "I want to understand, Natasha. I want to help you."

With a heavy sigh, Natasha began to speak, her words halting and uncertain at first, but gaining strength with each passing moment. "It's not just me," she confessed, her voice trembling with emotion. "It's… it's the comments, the stares, the whispers behind my back."

Your heart ached as you listened to her words, the pain and anguish etched into every syllable. You knew all too well the harsh realities of the world Natasha inhabited, the constant scrutiny and judgment that followed her wherever she went.

"It's like… like I'm never good enough," Natasha continued, her voice cracking with emotion. "No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I achieve, it's never enough. And the news, they… they only make it worse."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you watched Natasha unravel before you, the weight of her suffering a burden too heavy for her to bear alone. In that moment, you felt a surge of anger rise up within you, a burning indignation at the injustices Natasha had endured.

"And..." She trailed off

"And?" You pulled her into your arms, holding her close as if to show that you were there for her. You could feel the ache in her voice, the raw vulnerability laid bare before you.

"I just... You," Natasha began, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "You used to look at me with such... such longing. You'd initiate everything, your touch, your kisses... But lately, it's like you don't even see me anymore."

Your heart clenched at her words, unsure of what to do or say.

"I thought... I thought maybe it was because of how I looked," Natasha continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought if I worked out more, if I stopped eating, if I... if I purged, maybe you'd find me attractive again."

Your breath caught in your throat at her confession, the pain of her self-inflicted suffering tearing at your heartstrings. How could she think such a thing? How could she believe that her worth was tied to her appearance?

But you remained silent, allowing Natasha to speak, to purge the demons that haunted her soul. For in that moment, you realized that the only way to help her heal was to listen, to truly listen, without judgment or condemnation.

"I just wanted to be enough for you," Natasha whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. "But I was so wrong, wasn't I? I was so wrong."

And as she buried her face in her hands, her words seemed to sink in, making you feel like the ground beneath you is crumbling away, leaving you adrift in a sea of guilt and self-loathing.

Your hands trembled as you pushed yourself away from Natasha, the weight of her words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. You stumbled backward, your eyes wide with shock as you realized the role you had played in her pain.

"Oh my god," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the sound of your own ragged breaths. " I did that"

Natasha's eyes widened in concern as she watched you retreat, her voice tinged with fear. "Y/n? Are you okay?"

But you couldn't answer, couldn't bring yourself to face her, not when the guilt threatened to suffocate you. You hated yourself in that moment, hated the way you had let work consume you, the way you had neglected the person you loved most in the world.

And then it hit you, a wave of overwhelming emotion crashing over you like a tsunami. You sank to the floor, your body racked with sobs as the weight of your own self-loathing bore down on you like a heavy burden.

Natasha's voice was a distant echo in the darkness, her words lost amidst the chaos of your own thoughts. But you could feel her presence beside you, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder in a silent gesture of comfort and support.

But you couldn't bear it, couldn't bear the thought of her touching you, not when you were the reason she was in pain. So you pushed her away, stumbling to your feet and retreating further into the shadows.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, your voice barely audible above the storm of your own despair. "I'm so sorry, Natasha. I didn't mean to… I didn't know…"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the words tumbled from your lips in a frantic mantra, each repetition a desperate plea for forgiveness. But the only one you blamed was yourself, your own self-loathing swallowing you whole.

Natasha's voice was a distant echo in the chaos of your mind, her words lost in the tumult of your own despair. But you could feel her presence beside you, a steady anchor in the storm.

But even as she reached out to comfort you, you recoiled from her touch, the weight of your guilt too heavy to bear. You felt betrayed by yourself, , the person who had allowed this to happen.

"I'm sorry," you choked out once more, your voice hoarse with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Natasha. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to…"

But the words fell flat, empty and hollow in the face of your own self-condemnation. And as you sank further into the darkness, the weight of your own despair threatening to consume you, you knew that there was no escape from the demons that haunted you.

"Y/n, listen to me," Natasha's voice was firm, cutting through the haze of panic that clouded your mind. "You need to breathe. Deep breaths, okay?"

You nodded, your chest heaving as you struggled to regain control of your racing heart.

"That's it," she encouraged, her voice a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. "Inhale... and exhale. You're okay, I've got you."

You focused on her words, on the steady rhythm of her breathing, allowing them to anchor you in the present moment.

"I'm not going anywhere, Y/n," Natasha continued, her grip on your hand reassuringly firm. "I'm right here with you, and I'm not letting you go."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you clung to her, the weight of your own self-loathing threatening to crush you beneath its suffocating embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Natasha," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I didn't-"

Natasha silenced you with a gentle finger against your lips, her eyes soft with understanding. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured.

With trembling hands, you grasped Natasha's palms in yours, feeling the warmth of her touch seeping into your skin like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Without a word, you pulled her into a tight embrace, needing to feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your chest.

"I love you, Tasha," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. "I love you more than anything in this world."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you pressed kisses against her forehead, her cheeks, her neck, each touch a silent testament to the depth of your love for her.

"I'm sorry for everything," you murmured between kisses, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry for making you feel unloved, for neglecting you when you needed me most. I promise, I'll do better. I'll be better for you, for us."

Natasha's arms tightened around you, her own tears mingling with yours as she buried her face against your chest. "I love you too, Y/n," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And I forgive you. We'll get through this together, I promise."

---

Over the next few days, you devoted yourself wholeheartedly to supporting Natasha, determined to make amends for your past neglect. You woke up early to prepare nutritious meals for her, ensuring that she had the sustenance she needed to fuel her body and soul.

You gently guided her through each day, offering words of encouragement and reassurance whenever she needed them. You deleted all the news apps from her phone, shielding her from the harsh judgments and scrutiny of the outside world.

And when you learned of the agents who had dared to badmouth Natasha, you wasted no time in tracking them down and giving them a piece of your mind. With a fiery determination burning in your eyes, you confronted them head-on, refusing to let them tarnish Natasha's reputation any further.

"You have no idea what she's been through," you spat, your voice laced with righteous anger. "She's one of the strongest, most resilient people I know, and she deserves nothing but respect."

The agents cowered before you, their faces pale with guilt and shame. And as you walked away, leaving them to ponder the consequences of their actions, you felt a sense of satisfaction wash over you.

Every time you sensed Natasha spiraling, you were there, a steady anchor in her stormy sea. You showered her with kisses, peppering her face with affectionate gestures, a silent reminder of the love that enveloped her. Your touch was a constant presence, your fingers entwined with hers or softly tracing patterns on her skin, a tangible reassurance that you were there for her, always.

You made sure she had everything she needed, anticipating her wants before she even voiced them. Whether it was a warm meal or a comforting hug, you were always one step ahead, ready to offer her solace in her moments of need.

But even as you tended to her, Natasha noticed the turmoil brewing beneath your surface. Despite your smiles and jokes, she saw the shadows lurking in your eyes, the weight of your own struggles weighing heavily on your shoulders. And though you tried to hide it, she knew that your sleepless nights were spent wrestling with demons of your own.

---

As the time came for you to return to work after a month of devoted care for Natasha, a sense of dread settled in the pit of your stomach. The thought of leaving her alone, vulnerable to the demons that had haunted her in the past, filled you with a gnawing anxiety.

You found yourself making up excuses, delaying your departure in a futile attempt to hold onto the precious moments you had shared together. But Natasha saw through your facade, her eyes searching yours for the truth that you were desperate to hide.

"Y/n, what's going on?" she asked, her voice gentle but firm. "You've been acting strange lately, avoiding going back to work, making excuses to stay. Is something wrong?"

Your heart constricted at the concern in her voice, the weight of your own fears threatening to suffocate you. But you couldn't bring yourself to voice the truth, to admit to the depths of your own insecurities.

"I… I just don't want to leave you," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm afraid that if I go back to work, things will go back to how they were before. I'm afraid of losing you Tasha."

Tears welled in your eyes as you spoke, the vulnerability of your confession laying bare the depths of your fear. But Natasha's response was immediate, her arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace, her warmth a comforting balm against the storm raging within you.

"Y/n, listen to me," she said, her voice steady and unwavering. "I'm not going anywhere. We've been through hell and back together, and I'm not about to let anything tear us apart."

With a heavy heart and a sense of resolve, you made the difficult decision to resign from your position, knowing that your place was by Natasha's side. As you prepared to leave, a fierce determination burned within you to make the most of the time you had left together.

With a hunger born of love and longing, you pulled Natasha into your arms, your lips seeking hers in a passionate kiss.

An so as you hold Natasha close, your heart overflowing with love and devotion, you feel the need to express the depths of your feelings to her.

"Nat," you begin, your voice soft and tender, "I need you to understand something. I love you more than words can express, more than I ever thought possible."

You press a gentle kiss to her forehead, savoring the warmth of her skin against your lips before continuing.

"I love you for who you are, not for your past or your appearance. Every part of you, every scar, every imperfection, it's all part of what makes you so incredibly beautiful to me."

Your fingers trace the contours of her face, your touch reverent and adoring.

"And I want you to know that my love for you will never waver. No matter what challenges we face, no matter what obstacles come our way, I will always be by your side, loving you with every beat of my heart."

Tears shimmer in Natasha's eyes as she listens to your words, her own heart swelling with emotion.

"I love you too, Y/n," she whispers, her voice choked with tears. "More than you'll ever know."

---------

#avengers #black widow #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha x you #anon ask #anonymous #natalia alianovna romanova #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff hurt/comfort #natasha x y/n #natalia romanova #eating disoder recovery

[incorrectbatfam]

Ideas for a family halloween costume?

Flowers in a garden

The food pyramid

A marching band but everyone is a tuba

The Avengers

Gotham heroes but they swap costumes

Russian nesting dolls

Long horse

#ask #anonymous #batfamily #batfam #batboys #batbros #batkids #batsiblings #batman family #dc comics #headcanon #avengers #marvel

[sarcastictonystark]

This one's going right into the team group chat.

#tony stark #ask tony stark #avengers #the avengers #iron man #anonymous

[veliseraptor]

I have a suggestion/compromise? You mentioned not having the heart to finish those abandoned marvel drafts but if you were willing to share some of the already written bits that you do like, why not just post them as excerpts? You needn't finish them and we get to read your lovely work and stop harassing you for more ❤️

I've been tossing this idea around in my head for the last couple of days and I still don't know where I'm coming down in terms of "actually posting unfinished works to AO3" but I did go back and reread some of these fics I moved into my "MCU Fic Salvage Folder" (aka the wips I feel like would be most worth finishing someday, hypothetically) and once again went "huh you know these are still decent" and it does seem a pity that they're just sitting around languishing unread when people might hypothetically appreciate them, and I'm always in constant need of external validation.

so you know what, since you asked, anon, here, have a 2.3k chunk of an avengers: infinity war canon divergence that I'm fond of notionally but very unlikely to ever finish.

-----

you who turn the wheel and look to windward

Loki watched himself die.

It was necessary, so that he could ensure all the reactions were perfect, the simulacrum as believable as possible, as precisely real as possible. Making a copy of himself was easy - child’s play. Had been for centuries. Making one that was solid to the touch and real enough to fool Thanos--

He’d never done it before, and he could feel the strain of it in his chest, but he was strong enough for this. He had to be. 

That didn’t make it any easier to watch his own throat crushed in Thanos’s hand. He could feel himself shaking, his heart beating like it was going to explode, terror squeezing his airways as tightly as Thanos was squeezing his double’s--

Loki knew the pop-crack wasn’t real and he still flinched. The simulacrum went limp, and a muffled sound reminded him of the other reason he’d kept his eyes so determinedly fixed on his own death. 

I’m sorry, he thought frantically. Thor, I’m sorry, I couldn’t think of another way--

Thanos dropped the body - his body, and he had the disorienting, horrifying experience of staring at his own dead eyes - in front of Thor. He was saying something, but Loki couldn’t hear it over the roaring in his ears. 

Leave, he willed Thanos. Leave, damn you, you have what you want, now go--

Thor was sobbing. He could hear that, all too clearly, and oh if he’d ever wanted proof of what Thor had said (I mourned you) he had it now, and it was bitter in the having. 

Thanos turned his back and Loki held perfectly still, quivering like a dog straining at the leash, waiting, waiting. All he needed was a moment, a clean moment where he could get Thor away and run, it didn’t matter where, somewhere, anywhere. He hadn’t managed to save Asgard. Or Frigga, or Heimdall. But he would do this, he had to do this, there was no other choice.

Walk away, he thought. Walk away, there’s nothing here for you, we’re already dead.

Thor was holding his corpse. Clinging to it, and Loki hated himself but he hated Thanos more and he would apologize when they were safe, would let Thor beat him into the ground if it just meant they made it through this.

Let us make it through this. 

Loki felt the flash of power roll through him. Of Power. Felt the remnants of the ship groan as they started to tear apart. 

No, Loki thought. No, no-

He gauged the distance between him and Thor and Thor and Thanos and it didn’t matter, he couldn’t wait any longer. 

He’d already waited too long.

The ship ripped apart as Loki lunged for Thor, mouth open to shout his name before the vacuum of space tore his voice away, tore him away.

Then there was nothing, for a long time.

**

“You’re d’asting shitting me.”

Loki’s mind stirred sluggishly. His thoughts were fragmented, slow to cohere. There was something about that voice and its rough edge that made Loki’s stomach clench anxiously, but he couldn’t put a name to it, or to where he was, or to what-

No, he knew what had happened. The ship had been torn apart. And somehow...he’d survived. 

Again. 

“I should just throw you back out there,” said the vaguely familiar voice. “This is a waste of time.”

Loki fought his way free like a river in spring thaw. Everything was still jumbled, confused, but one thing remained squarely at the forefront of his mind. 

“Thor,” he said weakly. 

Thor, clinging to his body as the ship was ripped apart, and he hadn’t been fast enough to reach him.

He jerked the rest of the way back to life and lunged to his feet, whirling around with a knife in hand, and froze, staring at Thanos’s daughter. She stared back at him, her jaw set. “You,” he snarled, and lunged for her, hopelessly uncoordinated, still weak. She batted his thrust aside easily. 

“Cut it out,” she said. “I’m not here for him.” 

Loki flashed his teeth. “I am supposed to believe that?” 

“Believe it or don’t,” she said. “But don’t try to stab me again after I just dragged you and the other one onto my ship against my better judgment.”

Loki’s heart leapt into his throat, something like hope almost blooming in his chest. “The other one?” 

“Yeah,” she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “She’s over there.” She turned her back and started back toward the cockpit, stride jerky and ever so slightly uneven. “Don’t make me regret this.”

His heart dropped just as quickly. She. But he looked reluctantly over where Thanos’s daughter - he remembered her, if not her name - had indicated. Even one living Asgardian, even one, he told himself, no matter if it was not Thor…

I promise you, brother, the sun will shine on us again.

He walked unsteadily over to the other body lying on the ship’s deck. He recognized the style of the vessel - one of Thanos’s, which suggested that either Thanos’s daughter had stolen it, or she was lying. 

Not just any Asgardian, Loki thought, kneeling down unsteadily next to her. The Valkyrie. She was a survivor. Like him. 

Even as he started to reach out toward her, she gasped in a breath and her eyes snapped open, her knife flashing toward his throat. She stopped it just before it sliced through skin, staring at him, wide-eyed.

“Fuck,” she said. “Loki?”

Loki choked on a hysterical laugh. “The one and only,” he said. 

“The fuck...the fuck happened?” Valkyrie’s voice rasped painfully. Loki wondered if there was water. He should have asked, but he still felt dull, muddled. Thor must have survived. He had to have. But where…

He slumped back away from her. “Thanos,” he said. 

“I knew that,” Valkyrie hissed, already on her feet. There was an ugly rent in her armor, bleeding sluggishly. “But we’re not dead, so obviously-”

She cut off. Loki saw the moment when she put it together. 

“There’s no one else, is there,” she said. 

Loki didn’t want to say it. Couldn’t make himself say it. “I don’t know.” 

Valkyrie let loose with a string of expletives that Loki couldn’t parse. He waited for her to finish shouting. 

“Hulk?” She said, finally. 

“Heimdall sent him to Midgard. To warn them.” And was murdered for it. He didn’t speak that part, but he could tell that Valkyrie heard it nonetheless. 

“And Thor?” She asked, but he could tell by the look on her face that she already knew the answer. She just wanted him to say it. Why? So she could blame him, that he was still here and Thor might be-

He’s not dead. I won’t believe it. He turned his back on her and walked over to the cockpit to stare at the back of Thanos’s daughter’s head. She’d been a Luphomoid, once. He wasn’t sure what to call her now. “What’s your game,” he asked, harshly. 

“Getting to Thanos. Killing Thanos.” 

Loki jerked. “Last I saw you-”

“Last I saw you,” she snapped, “you were dancing on Thanos’s strings. It’s been a while.” 

“You know this person?” Valkyrie said, coming up behind him.

“Yes,” Loki said flatly. “Not fondly. There were a lot of sophisticated instruments of torture involved.” 

He felt Valkyrie stiffen, and somewhere distant where he was still feeling things was touched. 

“Don’t make me regret pulling you out of vacuum,” she said, her voice, if possible, even harsher than he remembered. “I only did it because-”

She stopped. Her hands twitched on the controls. Loki could see something, suddenly, in her single-minded intensity, the taut coil of her entire body, straining toward a destination she was afraid she wouldn’t reach. 

“Because why,” he said. She clamped her mouth shut and didn’t answer. 

“Would someone explain to me who you are and what’s going on,” Valkyrie said tightly, her voice almost vibrating, and it occurred to Loki that she’d been the sole survivor of her sisterhood, and was now one of a handful of survivors at most, almost immediately after returning to Asgard. Loki stumbled back and sat down on one of the unoccupied seats, his head suddenly spinning again. 

“She’s a daughter of Thanos,” he said. “Not of his flesh - I don’t know that he has any of those. I certainly hope not.” 

“I am not that,” she said, her voice grating. “My name is Nebula. I almost killed Thanos once. This time, I’m going to do it right.” 

“You’ve changed your tune,” Loki said. To Valkyrie, he added, “it seems we both managed to survive being blasted into space when Thanos disintegrated the ship. Which is, I imagine, where she found us.” 

“But not Thor,” she said. 

“There were no other signs of life in the vicinity,” Nebula said, after a brief pause. Loki felt like he’d been punched in the chest. He slumped back into the seat, staring blankly forward. 

It should have been you, whispered a nasty voice in his mind. Not him. Never him.

Valkyrie swore under her breath. “Fuck,” she said. “Shit.” 

Nebula, to his gratitude, said nothing. He was quite certain she knew the name. She’d heard him scream it enough. 

“Fuck!” Valkyrie roared, slamming her foot into the hull of the ship. Loki bowed his head and tried to summon the words: nor shall we mourn, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t. He felt like something had been ripped out of his core. 

“Where are we going,” he said finally, numbly. 

“I told you-”

“Yes, I know. I meant more specifically than that.” 

“Vormir,” Nebula said. Loki frowned. 

“What’s on Vormir?” 

“The Soul Stone.” 

Loki’s heart skipped a beat. “What?” He said, voice a little hoarse. He’d had some slim hope that the thing was lost. That no one knew where to find it, Thanos included, and thus he would not be able to complete his quest. 

Stupid. He should know better by now than to trust to hope. 

Nebula’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know if Thanos is still there. But it’s the last location I know he was heading.” 

“How did he know where to go,” Loki said, his throat closing like he was the double Thanos had strangled. “I thought it was lost-”

“Not lost enough,” Nebula said. She was wound so tight she was almost vibrating. Racing against time. She was afraid. Loki had not thought she was capable. 

That was all the Stones accounted for. Two on Midgard. Two Thanos already possessed (one thanks to you, sentiment, and what was it worth in the end, you still lost). One on Knowhere in the Collector’s care - he was strong enough that he might be able to match Thanos on his own, but with two Infinity Stones already in his possession? Perhaps not. 

And the Soul Stone, on Vormir. 

“How do we kill him,” Valkyrie said, her voice harsh. “This - Thanos. How do we kill him?” 

“Quickly,” Nebula said. “Cutting his throat should do it. I intend to take his whole head just to be sure.” 

“Not if I get to it first,” Loki said. Nebula gave him a sharp, ugly look that Loki ignored. He was very cold, and trying very hard not to think of Thor. Not to think, with childlike desperation, he was alive when you saw him last, Thor is strong, he might have survived. He couldn’t afford to believe that. And it wouldn’t matter if Thanos got what he wanted. 

“How far are we from this Vormir,” Valkyrie said.

“Another few hours.” Nebula’s voice was curt, but not exactly hostile.

“And are there weapons on this ship?” 

She gestured toward the back, and Valkyrie turned on her heel and stalked in that direction. Loki looked down at his hands. He had his knives, of course. Always. 

He kept going over those last few moments on The Statesman. What he could have done differently. What he should have done differently that might have gotten both him and Thor out alive - or at least Thor. 

It should have been a relief that he couldn’t think of anything. It wasn’t. 

“What changed,” he said.

“Are you talking to me,” Nebula said. Her voice was as harsh as he remembered. Thanos must have done something to damage her vocal cords, at some point. Hearing it sent a shiver of revulsion at remembered pain down his spine. 

“Yes,” he said. “I am talking to you. What made you finally turn your back on your father?” 

“None of your business.” 

“I’d like to know why I should believe you aren’t just taking us to Thanos as prisoners.” 

“If I was taking you to Thanos I would have just killed you,” Nebula said. “If I’d known it was you I was pulling onboard I would have.”

“Hey,” Valkyrie said, hefting a sizeable gun in one hand. “Watch it.”

Nebula made a disgusted noise and turned away from them both. Loki glanced at Valkyrie, eyebrows furrowing, and when she looked back at him he read determination and rage and a sort of desperation in her eyes. Like she expected something from him.

Don’t, Loki wanted to scream. I’ll only fail you. As I failed Thor.

“She’s not going to now,” Loki said. “And if you try...you’ll find me much harder to subdue than when I was your father’s captive.” It was largely bravado. He was weak after the fight on the Statesman, after dueling Proxima and Corvus, after crafting a double of himself. Drained by the memory of Thor on his knees, screaming, running toward his brother as the ship disintegrated around them and Thor just lay there sobbing over his seeming corpse, making no move to save himself. 

A knife slid in under Loki’s ribs and slit him open. He staggered, and Valkyrie caught him.

“Lackey,” she said lowly.

“I’m fine,” he said, but she ignored him, depositing him on a seat and standing next to him, glaring at the back of Nebula’s head as she ignored them both.

#conversating #anonymous #fic excerpt #loki's a goddamn mess #avengers: infinite denial #wow been a few years since that tag saw use #in case this becomes a thing i'm going to tag it #mcu fic amnesty

[therealbuckybarnes]

ok. what do you think i should do for my wife’s birthday

Why the hell are you asking me

Get her flowers, plan a nice movie night, build a blanket fort.

People like forts

Basically, have a movie night in a blanket fort. And for the love of God please do not put candles in the blanket fort

Why are you asking me this, I don't know anything about romantic relationships

#bucky barnes rp #bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #mcu bucky barnes #the avengers #incorrect quotes #the octopus gang #this is a cry for help #anonymous ask

[ishipallthings]

Tony collecting shiny rocks, fun shaped scraps of metal, and silly postcards during his days out and about/working and giving them to Steve without explanation and Steve both being very confused and a very thrilled because what does it mean???

(It’s Tony flirting in the most obtuse way he can by accident, they are just things that made him happy and he’s sharing them with someone that makes him happy)

anon, I need you to know that this is the cutest thing I've read all week and I LOVE IT!! This is such an adorable idea that I lowkey want to write it, it's giving me AA Steve/Tony vibes too :D

Thank you for making my day with this message and feel free to send more!

#stevetony #stony #fluff #asks #answered #anonymous #avengers assemble

[beheworthy]

I don't like seeing Thor in endgame. He needs so much love and everyone is bad to him or ignores him. I don't know what Jane's reaction would be.

i've always said that i loved what they did with him - him finally snapping under his failures.

the problem was everyone's reaction to him. it's unrealistic, to say the least. if a complete stranger started crying about his dead mother and girlfriend in front you, you surely won't be apathetic. but these supposed friends are like 'oh he's ruining the mood he's useless get him off'. i hate that it was treated as a joke. and in the end he gives up kingship FOR NO REASON. i hate all of it.

i'd have loved to see jane's reaction too 🥺 she'd have been compassionate and consoled him, hugged him and let him know everything will be okay 🥺🥺

we could have had some of that in thor4 if waititi didn't forget that thor has heterochromia eyes! she could have asked him what happened to his eye like his mum did. but he looks the same he did last she saw him so ofc there's none of that. love how waititi bypasses anything that could be even remotely interesting to get to anus jokes.

#answers #anonymous #thor #thor odinson #jane foster #thor x jane #anti avengers endgame #anti taika waititi