FIX the baby !
This one is an MCU fanfic! I hated Avengers: Infinity War and everything I heard about Avengers: Endgame so much that I started writing a 'verse that fixed the Thanos Snap by making it so that it never happened because the way the MCU did the snap and then restored people had so many worldbuilding consequences!!! That were never addressed!!! And FUCK Tony Stark's post-snap baby, you just have to deal with that baby never existing.
I don't remember what the plot idea I had was now, but I think it was mostly about Stark undoing the snap so that it never happened and dealing with the surreal angst of being the only one who remembered it.
And then after 3.5 pages I was like, "No. Making the MCU good was someone else's job. I won't do it for them." So this is a WIP I can actually say is dead because the MCU Thanos shit was SO BAD.
***
Tony woke up in the stall of a public bathroom. Since his last thought was that he was dying, this was unexpected. He hadn’t even been dying in a public bathroom. He was wearing a Black Sabbath t-shirt and a comfortable old pair of jeans, which he also hadn’t been dying in. He had an absolutely massive headache, and the anchor point for his current suit ached on his chest, but other than that he felt physically fine.
He didn’t have his suit with him. Not the nano suit, not any of them. Okay. Fine. You can’t take it with you, as they said. Though he was pretty sure he wasn’t dead, if only for the fact that he was in too much pain for this to be heaven, too comfortable otherwise for it to be hell, and he’d eat the Mark 1 if Valhalla or whatever had plastic walled toilet stalls as part of the welcome.
He checked his pockets and found that they were completely empty. He hadn’t really expected anything else.
At least he had shoes on.
Tony shrugged and took a careful breath. He’d woken up in worse situations and worse equipped. At least now—he glanced at the toilet. It had instructions on how to use a water-saving flush in English and Spanish. So he was probably in the United States. Or maybe Mexico.
But how? He had been dying. He had wielded the Infinity Gauntlet, and—
His headache, which had been fading, as it turned out, returned with full force. He gagged, and pressed his head against the wall. Right. Whatever was going on, he wasn’t going to find the answer in a public toilet. He left the stall, keeping his head down to avoid the fluorescent lights as much as he could. The bathroom turned out to be a large one, and now that he was out of the stall he felt just connected enough to reality to start noticing things again, like the fact that most of the men passing through the bathroom had suitcases with them.
An airport? He was in an airport? Why? Again, why? His head pounded. Maybe this was some kind of afterlife. Maybe he’d go buy a ticket and it would tell him to go to terminal C, Hades departures. Except he didn’t even have two cents to pay the ferryman, much less enough to buy a plane ticket.
Unproductive thoughts. He was alive. He’d start there. He went to the sinks and washed his hands, then splashed some water on his face, because it seemed like the done thing. He stifled a laugh that he was sure wouldn’t sound sane. Sure. And get the smelling salts, too.
Fuck, but this bathroom was busy. A convention of piss, held in an airport. His reflection told him that someone was bound to recognize him soon, and he didn’t want that to happen in a bathroom when he had literally no clue what was going on.
He hurried outside, looking down again, his shoulders hunched up by his ears.
As soon as he was out in the hallway, though, he raised his head. And stared. The airport was busy. Not relatively busy. Busy-busy.
Crowded.
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OH MY GOD THERES FINALLY PHYSICAL PREORDERS
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Doğru insanı bulmak çok zor. Bu yüzden evlenmeyin.
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