#infinity war headcanon

[dailyloopdeloop]

DAY 7: i miss my wife bonbon

[xoxobear124]

I just had this random headcannon pop into my head that I needed to share so….

Imagine a soulmate au in the MCU, set in infinity war.

Everyone has a soulmate.

So when Thanos wipes out half the universe, EVERYONE loses a soulmate.

It’s devastating and soul crushing(literally).

Just imagine the possibilities.

[raccoonfallsharder]

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip.✮part five. montana.

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angst, comfort, friendship, & fluff for @hibatasblog rocket & wanda | part 5/7 | word count: 1975.

what makes a person a monster?

During a watch party for Avengers: Endgame on Twitter, Markus revealed the idea to team Wanda with the Guardian of the Galaxy captain actually made it into several versions of the film's script. "We had whole drafts with Wanda on a road trip with Rocket," Markus wrote, "but after the Vision plot in Infinity War, nothing we came up with was anything but wheel spinning for her character." CBR

Wanda hadn’t felt much like talking since they’d left the bar. She can’t possibly describe the lurch in her lungs when she’d woken alone in the room, and found Rocket—

gone.

She peels it apart when they get in the car: silent, lost in her thoughts. Rocket doesn’t turn on his music right away, and when she casts a sideways glance at him, he looks vaguely uncomfortable: shifting in his seat, clenching and unclenching his fists. He looks like he wants to be taking something apart, inventing something new — anything to take his mind off whatever’s eating him inside. 

After the scene in the bar, when the bartender had poured Rocket’s drink so shakily that the mouth of the bottle had clanked against the glass tumbler, Wanda had sat beside her companion quietly. The bartender had wisely left the bottle behind, and then had gotten to work with the rest of the wide-eyed, ashen hotel staff to clean up the glass that had been broken in the altercation. She’d watched her furry colleague bemusedly as he sulked over his liquor, and had tried to tell herself that she had only been concerned because Rocket had been missing, and she’d known that someone walking around looking like a sentient raccoon could only get in trouble, no matter how well-intentioned and well-behaved he’d been attempting to be.

She had tried to tell herself it was just concern for a missing hero in a cruel world.

But her reaction had been too visceral to keep herself convinced. As she’d unfolded the truth of herself, wincing, she’d had to acknowledge that the way fear had suddenly ripped through her belly had been all too similar to the ache she’d felt when she’d lost Pietro: screaming hollowly at the root of her lungs, at the vagus nerve laced against her heart. A shrieking void in the center of a fiery cyclone. It had been an agony of terror: to think her new, small, sarcastic friend had been taken from her like everyone else.

When she’d seen him — safe, but on the verge of becoming a victim of his own temper — she’d wrapped her power around him as carefully as she knew how. And when she’d realized what was happening, her own temper had surged: some strange combination of fire and ice. 

She’s so tired of people being treated as less-than, of lives being overlooked. 

Especially the lives she loves. 

Rocket still doesn’t speak. They make their way through a number of national forests before he even hesitantly reaches out to fuss with the music again. She says nothing as something mellow spills from the speakers, but she can feel her shoulders ease. It takes another hour before his feet are kicking again, and he’s humming something low and husking along with the lyrics. 

“Uh, hey,” he says at last, his voice rasping as the sun begins to cast a melting-gold crust over the edge of the trees ahead of them, light hitting the western crest of the world and sprawling upward in sprays of topaz and rose and aquamarine. “Thanks for — I dunno. Sorry for fucking up at the last place. And thanks for, uh, stepping in.” He shifts next to her, one shoulder hitching uncomfortably. She watches from her periphery as his lip curls in a clenched-jaw grimace, like he’s tasted something sour. 

She weighs that quietly. 

“I was as angry as you were, once I understood what was happening,” she admits.

The wince lingering in the corner of his mouth and eyelids softens. “Saw that,” he acknowledges after a long minute, spooled with the crooning tones of whomever’s singing from the zune now. “Don’t know — I think only Nebs has ever, uh. Stuck up for me like that.” His voice sounds parched and cracked and starved, like he’s not certain what he’s trying to say. Like maybe the words feel disloyal, somehow, to his absent friends. Something answering cracks open in her ribs. She knows he loved the rest of the Guardians — Pete, he’d mentioned, referring to the owner of the zune. Gamora, whom Wanda has gathered had been sacrificed to Thanos’ goals, just like Vis. But it hurts her to think that Rocket’s little adopted family wouldn’t have been just as offended on his behalf as she had been. Or maybe they would have been, and he just doesn’t realize it. Either way, it hurts. It hurts to think that he believes no-one would have been moved to intercede, to demand respect on his behalf, or to offer comfort.

Pietro would have devastated anyone whom he’d perceived as treating her as inferior. And in his own gentle, wise way, Vis would have fought for her as well. 

At least he has Nebula, now, she thinks, and a space inside her loosens. She hasn’t spoken with the awkward blue cyborg — not anymore than she’s spoken to anyone else on the team, preferring to stay off to the side, needing to observe. But knowing that Rocket feels like “Nebs” would step in for him allows some of the tension in her neck and shoulders to ease.

“You — you got a lot of power,” Rocket says tentatively. “As much as Danvers, maybe.”

She feels herself go watchful and wary again. The silence is heavy in the little car, even smothering the faint music trailing from the speakers. 

“Or more,” she admits at last, quietly.

He acknowledges her addition with a mild grunt and a nod.

“Ya know, the Guardians of the Galaxy numbers are lookin’ pretty slim these days,” he says musingly. “F’you ever wanna get off this planet. Could find a spot for you, prob’ly.” He slants her a taunting grin. “Pretty sure we’re more fun than the Avengers. Less stuffy and judgy, too.”

She can’t help the delicate snort that scrapes up the back of her throat, edged with laughter. And here she’d been worried that he was scared of her. Instead, twice in two days, now, he’s made her laugh.

Regular laughter seems like such a distant memory. It is a distant memory, and a frail one. She’d had it before the Stark industries mortar shell, and then again in her time with Vis — but certainly not since. 

Other than that first time she’d seen him bickering with Nebula on the compound lawn.

“Not that every part of this planet sucks,” Rocket admits grudgingly from beside her. The last flickers of sun-gold ricochet off the distant line of tree and mountain, settling into a rosy-lavender and hydrangea-blue. “This section’s kinda nice, if you’re into that sort of thing. Reminds me of specifical parts a’ Berhert or Foresteria.”

She considers the Montana terrain. “Are you into that sort of thing?”

He smirks. “Not enough places to get into trouble for me,” he says with a sideways toss of his head. “No gambling. Or booze.” He pauses to waggle his brows at her, so exaggerated that she can see the gesture even in her periphery. “Or tail.”

This time, when she laughs, it hasn’t crawled up her spine: it’s as bright as it had been the other day, so merry in the air that it’s utterly foreign to her ears.

“You are ridiculous,” she tells him, but he only gifts her a shit-eating grin.

“What about you?” he asks. “You ever think about runnin’ away from Terra? Come hang out with the cool kids in the stars?”

She snorts again and glances sideways at him in the melting velvet shadows. How does the space inside Natasha’s car, with its ruined dashboard and sound system, feel so much easier than anywhere she’s ever been in the past five years? How does it feel so much easier than anywhere she’s ever been at all, unless it was with Vis?

“Not exactly,” she says quietly.

“Not exactly?”

She hesitates and chews the inside of her lip at the corner of her mouth. 

“I think about making a place for myself,” she admits after a handful of quiet breaths. The song on the zune blurs into something new. “A place where… where things are the way they’re supposed to be.”

The quiet expands. Doubles.

“Whaddaya mean?” her companion asks at last. There’s tension in his voice, but it’s surprisingly quiet. As soft as she imagines his fur.

She hesitates. “I could — I think I could do it. Make a place — like in the old TV shows. Somewhere perfect, where people can be happy. Where I can be happy.”

The silence drawls through the music, and she can feel Rocket’s anxiety. She’d been silly to think he might be scared of her before, because now she can feel it — crackling and tense. But… it’s also careful. Testing. Cautious. She knows if she’d said something like this to any one of the Avengers, they’d probably try to lock her up immediately. They don’t understand her magic, and they don’t understand her. And they certainly don’t understand her pain. 

After all, they’ve always been able to look away.

And while she can tell that Rocket doesn’t like what she’s shared — the dangerous little truth she’s laid out between their armrests — somehow, she doesn’t feel judged.

“I get that,” he says at last, his voice grudging and slow. “Wanting that. Me myself, I never had the — I never had the power to sort of…  reshape the galaxy into what I wanted.” He pauses, and she can feel him gathering his thoughts in the dusk like the fireflies that used to litter the Sokovian summer grasses. When he speaks again, his voice has grown as dark as the world outside their car: grim and solemn and hard. “But I definitely been one a’ the poor morons who got caught up in someone else’s idea of perfect, and I can promise — you try to tie other people up like that, and you’re only gonna become somebody’s nightmare.”

She takes her eyes off the road, even though she shouldn’t — not here, in the dusk and the trees and the mountains. Her eyes find his in the shadows: glowing red to glowing red. She flicks her gaze over him: the broad shoulders that should be sloped inward, the opposable thumbs where there should only be dexterous fingers, the hard-packed muscle where she would expect a soft layer of fat. She’d decided that maybe he was an alien — and perhaps that’s true — but now she realizes there’s more to it than just that. 

Someone’s shaped him into this.

Who was your nightmare? she thinks, and remembers Ultron again. Trying to reshape the world. It’s not the first time in the last five years that her fantasies of recreating a small slice of the world have given her pause — but it is the first time that the uneasiness has outweighed the solace. 

Then she thinks of the labs. Of Hydra, yes — and the other one. The one she still isn’t sure if she remembered or dreamed up.

Rocket clears his throat, as if he knows she’s wondering what happened to make him the way he is. 

“Take that asshole Thanos,” he mutters at last, and there’s a darkness to his tone that matches her own midnight vortex of thoughts when it comes to the Mad Titan. “So frickin’ committed to what he thought would make the universe better, that he killed half of it and broke everybody else.” Her companion scowls and mutters something in a language she doesn’t understand, but it doesn’t matter, because his words have already opened up a pit in her belly: pinching and frightened.

“I wouldn’t be killing anyone,” she says, and she’s surprised by the stubbornness in her voice. It makes her flinch, and that cramp in her belly tightens apprehensively — but she goes on anyway. Trying to convince herself, she realizes, even as she speaks. “I’d give them perfect lives. I’d make them be happy.”

He lifts his head and even though her eyes are back on the road, she feels his heavy, quiet, steady stare. 

“Can’t make anybody be anything, witch.” He clears his throat, and his eyes release her. “Not without making yourself a frickin’  monster.”

sometimes i fuck around with comics-canon and throw it into my mcu fanfics so uh be ready for that with the next chapter. we're gettin weird

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[lalixlizzie]

Wanda: “I'm still mad at you.”

Natasha: “I know.” [sits down next to Wanda, holding two mugs]

Wanda: “You can’t fix this with a cup of coffee.”

Natasha: “I know. That’s why I brought you hot chocolate.”

[hedwigge]

percy jackson could've soloed thanos

[elpis-simps]

Okay so..I just realised something.

*Warning: Endgame spoilers ahead*

So, you guys know how

Bucky, Wanda, and a few others got Dusted in the space just outside Wakanda? We know from Monica Rambeau that the people who got dusted came back at the exact location they dusted at. Right?

So that means bucky, Wanda, and the others who got dusted in the Battle of Wakanda

(Idk what it's named lol) would have had to walk to qakanda together after the Snap, and talk to eachother and stuff. Not really sure how useful this is, it's just a sweet thought.

Imagine Wanda still distraught because in her mind, she had just had to kill vision, then watch him come back alive and be killed again. Then bucky comes over to her, and comforts her in the best way he knew how.

Imagine groot coming over and just saying to everyone 'I am groot'

Yeah I just think it's a really sweet thing that I thought of (:

[doctorstrangeaskblog]

Could i get some random stephen headcanons, please? Even if it's just a few of em? ❤❤❤ please?

I organized all I wrote so far here

@doctorstrangemetas

It's full of headcanons. Just hit the search box with #headcanons or use the links if you're using desktop mode/PC.

Some new headcanons because you asked.

-doesn't sit straight when he's wants to relax or when he is indeed relaxed

-understands human behavior REALLY well and reads people really well, but he's a bit chaotic when dealing with people mostly because he has no patience to play the game "let's small talk and fake socialize".

-Sounds drunk when sleepy deprived

-Probably will never see him drunk for real (high tolerance due to meds/pain killer unhealthy use of alcohol)

-Loves expensive elaborated food/pastries, but some REALLY annoy or scare him, like caviar.

-Sensible stomach

-He battled Gargantos drunk

-He drank at least 4 alcoholic drinks in Christines Wedding

-He has surprisingly healthy habits like exercising, eating healthy food in right breaks- his problem often is lack of sleep

-Stephen was hungry in all movies he was a main character. In DS1 he was homeless. IW he eas about to have a sandwich right before the invasion started. DS2 he vomited all he had eaten after America Chavez pulled him to another reality, and after that all he had was pizza balls (in the Avengers Assemble ep 10, there seems to be a scene he is eating some).

-He didn't foresee farther than No Way Home in Infinity War using the Time Stone

-The Time Stone could appear anytime for Stephen to use, because it's possible past Stephen sent it to the future and then back to the past (past Stephen's present).

-The actual blame for NWH spell going wrong is the Loki series (interview)

- DSMOM was supposed to happen BEFORE NWH.

-The Cloak having feelings and the final dialogue between Stephen and Peter in NWH was Benedict Cumberbatch's idea.

[th3d0nutl0rd]

Guys I'm going to make an entirely self indulgent post and I don't even know if there's any crossover between these fandoms but I hope there is for the sake of me sharing this AU idea:

So, in the Hazbin Hotel pilot, part of the song mentioned fallen superheroes, right? WELL. I HAVE AN IDEA.

Although it technically isn't his fault and he was not in control, the winter soldier still killed all those people...

So Bucky wakes up in hell. As a hellhound. (White Wolf reference)

While Steve wakes up there for something like idolatry, or some really obscure sins (think of how complaining and cowardice are technically listed as sins)

They reunite in hell, and Steve, being the great guy he is wants to figure out how to get them out of there

Bucky however, is enjoying the newfound power and encourages Steve to loosen up and fuck around in hell for a bit

Maybe they'd start a business, like I.M.P but for killing bad demons or the supervillains who presumably went to hell...

Does that mean Thanos is in hell...???

Nah, I think Cestiel or Carmilla would have put an end to that purple fuck immediately....

[indominusavenger]

I'm calling it now; Peter Parker is secretly a skin care guru. Don't be so surprised, I mean, how else do you think this boy shows up with flawless skin every time he's fighting someone? Even in the hardest battles against the worst villains, he's glowing from a mile away that it even shines through his mask that it distracts the enemy and literally burns their eyes.

[aleksmaximoff]

hc that Wanda's favorite color is blue

bonus:

[tllgrrl]

a SarahSteve AU/What If…? SnapShot

Where: Sarah Wilson’s home, Delacroix, LA.

When: Starting about 6 months following The Snap.

Who: Sarah Wilson & Steve Rogers

What if, on his third attempt to check up on Sarah after The Snap, instead of closing the door in his face or just ignoring him, she accepts his offer to help secure the old house for an approaching hurricane?

Words: a quick 2100.

* * * * * * * * * *

Music was coming from a little Bluetooth speaker sitting on the back porch railing, and a favourite tune from her Jazz Playlist had just begun when…

“Hello there.”

Her back was to him, but he could still read the eye roll, and hear the exasperated sigh.

She’d heard a motorcycle approaching.

Within the past almost 9 months, she’d ignored the 3 phone calls and 2 letters from him that preceded this visit.

“Captain Rogers,” she fished the cellphone out of her back pocket and muted the music, “shouldn’t you be off somewhere savin’ the world?”

Read the rest on AO3

* * * * * * * * * *

(SnapShots: 1-2 Part short stories that take place during the 5 years between Thanos’ fingers snapping half the Universe out of existence, and Bruce Banner/Smart Hulk snapping them back.)

[raccoonfallsharder]

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip. part one. prepare for departure.

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angst, comfort, friendship, & fluff for @hibatasblog rocket & wanda | part 1/7 | word count: 1371.

rocket gets a very-important mission from danvers and needs a partner to go with him. enter the witch.

It is a well-documented fact (I know you know) that in the comic books, many of the marvel ladies have a thing for Rocket Raccoon. How could they not? Eyes like red beryls and pyropes, teeth and wit both so sharp they can kill long before the perfectly-aimed gravity-blast. Intuition off the charts, not to mention the things they've heard he can do with that tail...

Alas, this is not the comics. This is the MCU, some time between 2018 and 2023.

And while everything else remains more or less the same, Wanda Maximoff was not turned into ash.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Rocket says, rolling his eyes.

Wanda isn’t sure what to call him. He looks like a raccoon, but insists that he isn’t one. Maybe he’s an alien. Maybe he’s something else. Either way, he’s rolling his eyes at Natasha, so hard that his whole head rolls with them.

“Look, I got a very important mission from Danvers, and Nebs is busy right now, working with Kraglin to make Knowhere a more hospitablistic place for Snap refugees. D’you wanna fuck over a bunch of Snap refugees, Nat?”

He crosses his arms and raises a brow up at the new leader-apparent of the Avengers. If Wanda hadn’t felt so — nothing at all, actually — she might have let a smirk curl the corner of her mouth. He’s kind of a brat, and he knows how to get under peoples’ skin. When she’d been a child, she would have found that entertaining. Endearing. She supposes she’d used to have a soft spot for scrappy survivors. Then she’d had to stop having a soft spot for anything but her brother.

Then —

“Goddammit, Rocket. Go to Washington, then. I don’t care. But we still need the Benatar.”

His challenging look turns into a glower. “Fuck off, Nat. What am I supposed to do, then? Drive your frickin’ car?”

Natasha flaps a hand at him distractedly from behind her desk. “Yes, that’s fine, take the car—”

The look he gives her is withering. “I can’t reach the fuckin’ pedals, Nat. So unless you’re giving me permission to take the whole inefficient machine apart an’ put it back together to suit my needs, you’re gonna have to—”

“I can’t spare anyone, Rocket,” the Russian snaps.

“And I can’t be alone right now,” he snaps right back. Wanda’s eyes flick back and forth between them. 

Natasha grits her teeth. “You said this was a mission from Carol?”

“Yes,” he hisses, tapping one booted foot impatiently. 

She closes her eyes and sighs heavily, leaning back in her chair and pressing her fingers into her temples. “Fine,” she says at last, drawing the word out — petulantly, Wanda thinks from a great distance. “Find someone who’s willing to go with you and I’ll tell you if I can spare them.”

Rocket doesn’t hesitate. Without moving anything but his arm, he’s brandishing a single dark claw in Wanda’s direction.

“I’ll take the witch.”

Five years earlier — in the first days after the Snap, before they’d left all their hope on 0259-S with Thanos’ headless body — everyone else had belonged to somebody. Cap and Nat had each other, and Nat had Banner and the arrow-guy. Rhodey had the rich guy who thought he was a genius, and the rich guy had that other redhead. Thor had maybe lost the most, but he had Banner too, and his buddies from Sakaar. The Dora Milaje had their whole sisterhood. Only Danvers might have been on her own — but as far as Rocket had been able to tell, Captain Marvel hadn’t seemed to have a lotta close ties she was mourning.

But Rocket — Rocket had nobody. 

Again.

Nobody except Gamora’s sister, whose name he’d kept forgetting.

Of course, there was the witch. 

Disproportionate number of redheads on this planet, he remembers thinking bemusedly.

He hadn’t been able to remember her name for a while either, but unlike everyone else on Terra, she’d seemed almost as alone as he was. And he hadn’t been able to help but watch her, his eyes slanting sideways to stare at her as she’d sat by herself across the room, hands anchored around upper arms. He couldn't make out the color of her eyes — they’d seemed impossibly dark, with rage or grief or something else, something haunted.  

Except for when they’d smouldered like furious banked fires. 

She’d never said a frickin’ word, either: face blank and beautiful as a statue’s. Her silence had felt more surreal than any other stupid thing he’d encountered in space, which he supposed was probably just because he’s spent the last four years with a family of weirdos who’d never seemed able to shut the fuck up. 

Still. He’d tilted his head when the other avengers had walked past her — watched as they’d seemed almost to forget she was even there. They’d barely talked to her, and once, when they’d been ordering lunch, they’d missed her entirely.

Uh — you didn’t ask the witch what she wants, Rocket had said to Nat awkwardly, and the assassin had blinked and her eyes had hunted the whole room before they’d finally focused on the other woman — like she hadn’t even known where her fellow-Avenger was. 

No. The witch had been an outcast. And Rocket has always known something about outcasts. His whole frickin’ family — both, some small part of his brain had tried to speak up before he could smother it; both families were made of the unwanted — his whole frickin’ family had been outcasts and misfits. It had made some part of Rocket’s heart suddenly stretch in his chest. It had reached with grasping fingers, trying to hang onto something he’d already known he’d lost.

Family.

The next day, Rocket had cleared his throat and told Gamora’s sister that he was gonna go starside to touch base with Kraglin on the Third Quadrant — to see if he still exists, he hadn’t said, but he’d been pretty sure the cyborg had picked it up. 

“You wanna come, Blue?” he’d asked — wincing when his nonchalance had been too thin to be believable. But the Luphomoid had inclined her head, eyes dark and steady. When that had been squared away — surprisingly a hell of a lot easier than he’d thought — he’d  shuffled to his feet, and headed to the bench outside the compound, where the witch had been sitting since sunrise.

He’d stood in her line of vision and stared at the sky too, shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, tail trying to tuck itself underneath him. It had probably been a full twenty minutes before he’d felt her eyes on him.

“I. Uh. I heard you lost your robot-boyfriend.” The words had been as clumsy as an orloni drunk on fermented Asgardian figs, but he’d been trying.

The witch’s eyes had flared, crimson-bright. “Robot?” she’d repeated dangerously.

Rocket’s ears had flicked back and he’d taken a step away, into the grass: hands extended, palms out.

“Hey, m’not trying to be a dick,” he’d protested. “I think I might be part-robot myself.” He’d stabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward the Benatar, where he could feel  his new blue companion staring holes in his back. “Gamora’s sister’s almost all-robot, too.” 

He could also feel the sister in question rolling her eyes. 

“M’just saying,” he’d muttered at both of them, hunching his shoulders and half-turning to kick a patch of grass. “Some of us are solo now.” He’d gestured at the cyborg again. “Might be good to stick together.” 

“I was used to being solo,” Nebs had pointed out, and Rocket had winced. “You’re the one who got attached.”

His ears had flattened. “Whatever,” he’d growled. “Just thought — whatever.” He’d spun again, kicking more grass, and muttered bitterly under his breath. “So much for trying to be the captain. So much for trying to look out for the damn strays.”

“You’re the stray,” Nebula had replied with a mutinous jut of her chin — and how the fuck had she heard him? That wasn’t standard Luphomoid hearing range. 

Rocket had cursed whatever aural implants Thanos had given her. 

Then the witch had made a strange sound behind him — a little huff of breath.  A disbelieving, agonized little shred of laughter.

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During a watch party for Avengers: Endgame on Twitter, Markus revealed the idea to team Wanda with the Guardian of the Galaxy captain actually made it into several versions of the film's script. "We had whole drafts with Wanda on a road trip with Rocket," Markus wrote, "but after the Vision plot in Infinity War, nothing we came up with was anything but wheel spinning for her character." CBR

[lalixlizzie]

Yelena: If Kate calls, tell her I died but make sure you really sell it. It’s a funny thing we’re doing.

Yelena: Ok, I’ll be back soon.

Wanda:

Wanda: How is that funny?

[gwendylokidottir]

remember Infinity War, when Thanos snapped ? now remember Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. season 5 ? remember Robbie Reyes the Ghost Rider and his little brother ? ok then, here's my headcanon : Gabriel Reyes got dusted, and Robbie find himself into a full “ghost rider revenge” mode

[shiningstarr15]

Natasha and Yelena Headcanons (Pre-IW, established AU)

(Note: the AU that I’ve established in my stories thus far revolves around an extension of time. Basically, it took Natasha longer than two weeks to receive the quinjet she did at the end of the movie. It also took Melina longer to supply Yelena with more antidote, and she only supplied her a bit at a time)

Despite her reputation of being the cold, calculated, and dangerous Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff herself is actually a HUGE softie. She only ever exposes this side of her when she is among people she trusts to expose her vulnerability too.

Natasha also has a playful and mischievous side of her. Though this is usually reserved to when she is around kids, or adults that act like kids (ie Yelena)

Yelena has a WICKED mischievous side to her. Her personality is revolved around her blunt sarcasm and child-like demeanor. She exposes this ten-fold around Natasha especially, in which she wants to play off the “stereotypical annoying little sister” with her. And usually succeeds

Natasha carries a very large guilt complex, and this can sometimes manifest as being very overprotective and overwhelming with Yelena. Usually she won’t mind, but sometimes it gets to her.

Yelena HATES being called a baby, cute, adorable, etc. She believes it destroys her “tough assassin” persona. However, she tolerates it with Natasha.

Natasha is ironically afraid of spiders. Not necessarily tiny ones, but moreso big ones. She won’t scream when she sees them but she will vicariously leave and avoid a room until it is gone.

Yelena is an absolute bed hog. She sprawls like a starfish when she’s comfortable and will take over the whole bed, kicking off the blanket from various parts of her body. She often ends up with a limb or two draped over Natasha. Natasha suspects that Yelena does this on purpose just for the physical affection but Yelena has never confirmed it

Natasha’s main love language with physical touch is hugs and forehead touches. However, she will often explore other variations of providing physical affection to Yelena such as head kisses and cuddles (anything you would see in a platonic/sisterly relationship)

Yelena puts on a very hardcore, tough-girl act and most pain won’t cause much of a reaction from her. However, she absolutely CRUMBLES when someone tickles her. Natasha knows this and will exploit this weakness whenever she wants her to stop being a brat. Yelena hates the fact that it works everytime.

Natasha is ok at cooking. She only knows a few really easy recipes that don’t require too many ingredients. However, she cannot bake worth SHIT.

Yelena can’t do either. At all. She almost burnt the place down the one time she tried making Mac and cheese by herself when Natasha was out.

Both the sisters LOVE animals. Although Natasha is more of a cat person and Yelena is a dog person. They don’t mind either though.

Yelena is severely touch deprived. When she’s not wearing one of her vests or a large coat/jacket, she is usually wrapped tightly in a blanket or hugging a pillow up to her body. If Natasha is present, she will ditch the pillow in favor of her sister.

Natasha’s go-to nicknames for Yelena are “Lena” and “Mdalshaya Sestra.” When she wants to be extra affectionate, she will call her “sestrichka” (meaning baby sis)

Yelena calls Natasha by her full name at first, but the more comfortable she got, she eventually added an honorific to her name. Her go-to nickname is “Natashka” and when she wants to be extra affectionate it’s shortened to “Tashka” (she usually uses this to get something she wants)

Both of the sisters are extremely overprotective of each other, but Yelena’s goes so far as to wanting to keep her sister safe and craving the love she has for her is actually her greatest weakness.

One of Natasha’s weaknesses is wanting to keep Yelena out of harm.

Yelena suffers from real bad nightmares and occasional night terrors. She often will kick in her sleep if it’s bad enough. Natasha will pull her closer if she catches her and tries to soothe her back down. Natasha wakes up with bruises from the kicking

Despite Yelena’s insane sleep habits, the two sisters share a bed. Natasha doesn’t mind since she is aware of Yelena’s nightmares and touch starvation. But mainly bc the couch in the front room is way too uncomfortable.

Yelena’s trauma causes her severe anxiety when it comes to her relationship with Natasha. She is always afraid of going too far or messing something up. Natasha always reassures her that she won’t leave her again.

Yelena trusts Natasha with her life

And there ya have it! Remember these HC are PRE-INFINITY WAR which means as the story progresses they are SUBJECT TO CHANGE

I may also add more as time goes on. These are based on what has already been established in the storyline and some that haven’t. I’m not done writing for “pre-iw” widow sisters but the story will be progressing to after, as well as new characters getting added 💖

Thanks for enjoying my stories. And hope you enjoy the HC! 💞🥰

[ihavenoideahowtumblerworks]

DURING INFINITY WAR:

*somewhere in the middle of space*

Tony: Well when Thanos sent his henchmen, with Mr. Grand Moff Tarkin, we decided-

Quill: oooh, I see. So you're the Jedi looking for Darth Vader. Well guess what, I'm the Han Solo of this ship, which means you listen to me.

Drax: Quill, what are you talking about?

Peter: CaN I bE R2D2?