#tony 1.0

[jaks-art]

I forgot that I wanted these two to have kinda a one sided crush! It’s been so long since I thought about these characters in depth actually. The only one I think about with any kind of frequency is Wolfgang 1.0 honestly. So I forgot she used him in exchange for fake affection. She was quite literally just leading him on and teasing him so he’d give her free stuff and pay for things for her.

A gaslighter and her cowardly simp

[danwhobrowses]

So apparently NXT drew 900k to AEW's 600k on tv (no mention of Fite or BR streams) meaning that they 'win'. Which is a shame because it would've been super funny if they lost.

And it'll matter a whole amount of 0

But I'm sure WWE tribalist stans will celebrate their 11 in 63-11 win over AEW on their regular day after throwing top starts like Cena and exhuming the Undertaker at their so-called 'Developmental', I still preferred Dynamite.

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Laugh Tracks Part 2 !NSFW!

Avenger!Agatha 2.0 x Avenger!Reader

Word count: 10,012

Chapter warning (s): MDNI; Agatha with a sedative dependency, Agatha is still depressed, guys it's Endgame--yes Nat still dies rip, Agatha has major PTSD, reader comes back yayyyy, very emotional and passionate smut

Summary: It's been five years since Agatha lost you. Sedatives are part of her nighttime routine, isolation is her new normal, and grief consumes her whole. But now, there's a way to get you back, and it takes everything in her to start hoping again.

A/N: Hi! I hope you enjoy this little finale, we are never seeing Avenger!Agatha 2.0 again after this. We are solely sticking to Avenger!Agatha 1.0 and reader and their domestic bliss in their NYC brownstone that Tony paid for. Also, if any of yall are editors, I saw an edit with Tchaikovsky’s nutcracker pas de deux and I’m craving an edit of this mini-fic to that. Just an idea💕

Spotify playlist I listened to

Masterlist

Part 1

Tip jar💕

New York City

5 years after the Blip

The days get easier.

Not easy.

But easier.

New York City is dark and sullen. The once lively city has been reduced to eerie silence.

“I can’t believe I agreed to go to this thing with you,” Agatha grumbles.

“It’ll be good for you,” Steve says, opening the door to the support group meeting room.

There are four other people already there. The room is dark, with three fluorescent lights shining above the circle of chairs.

Steve takes a seat with Agatha beside him. He’s quiet, but he brings a sense of comfort to the room.

“Hey guys,” Steve says. “Welcome to support group. Remember, you can share as much or as little as you want. We’re here to give advice and listen and lean on each other. So,” he sighs, “who wants to go first?”

A man sitting beside Steve pipes up. “I guess, I’ll go. So, I…uh…I went out on a date the other day for the first time in five years. You know? I’m sitting there at dinner.” He looks at Steve. “I didn’t even know what to talk about.”

“What did you talk about?” Steve asks, smiling softly.

“Same old crap,” the guy shrugs. “Past five years, how things have changed. My job, his job. How much we miss the Mets.” He trails off, thinking. “And then, things got quiet. He cried as they were serving the salads.”

“What about you?” one of the members asks. “Did you cry?”

He nods thoughtfully. “I cried…just before dessert. But I’m seeing him again tomorrow, so…”

“That’s great,” Steve says. “You did the hardest part. You took the jump. You didn’t know where you were gonna come down. And that’s it. That’s those little…brave baby steps you gotta take…to try and become whole again, try and find a purpose. Anybody wanna go next?” The circle is quiet and Steve nudges Agatha. “Agatha? What about you?”

Agatha huffs and rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine.” She sits up straight in her chair, arms and legs crossed. Her lips purse and her tongue darts in her cheek. 

“267 years ago, I lost my son, Nicky. He was six-years-old.” Agatha takes a deep breath. “I’m very experienced with grief,” she says, letting out a dry laugh before her face falls. “But, uhh…I don’t know how to cope with this loss. I knew her for over a century and…”

Agatha trails off, eyes going glassy before she blinks rapidly and chuckles. “I use sedatives almost every night because those are the only things that help me sleep…” She pauses again, and this time, the humorless chuckle turns into full blown laughter.

As tears start forming, Steve sighs, “Agatha…”

“I’m sorry!” she laughs, wiping her eyes. She stands up, still giggling to herself. Her hand gently pats Steve’s shoulder. “I’m sorry…I’m gonna–I’m gonna go wait in the car…”

When the passenger side door slams shut, Agatha laughs again. She presses her palms into her eyes, giggling quietly, but when she sits up she catches a glimpse of herself in the side mirror.

The dark circles under her eyes, her hair, stringy and unkempt–she’s a shell of what she used to be. Her laughter fades into quiet chuckles before broken sobs rake through her. 

And they don’t stop.

In the past years the tears have faded, replaced with a deep, unshakable anger. At what, she doesn’t know. Questions and thoughts linger in her mind throughout days as she watches reruns of sitcoms–your sitcoms.

She refuses to watch anything else.

Trillions killed. Why was she one of them?

She slowly regains her motivation, but not for much. She eats. She socializes–more or less–with what remains of the team. She takes care of herself, even if it’s the bare minimum. She’s surviving, but not living.

Trillions killed. Why wasn’t I one of them?

The days get easier.

But they’re not easy.

Never easy.

An hour passes and the tears are starting to ebb. The driver side door opens and Steve slides in without a word. As they drive, it’s quiet.

But it’s not a bad quiet. It’s the quiet that’s needed. It’s given to her out of respect. It’s a quiet that’s oddly comforting, even if Agatha is sniffling and wiping her nose on her sleeve. 

On the drive back to the Compound, they stop at a diner.

“Why are we here?” Agatha asks, voice thick and nose red.

Steve shrugs. “Just thought we could get some dinner. I know that support group days make me hungry, and this was your first one so…”

Agatha scoffs. “First and last.”

It’s amusing how stereotypical the diner is–checkered floors and red booths with frosted glass windows. The sound of espresso machines and bells ringing mingle with the conversations of waitresses at the counter.

“I’m sorry about your son,” Steve says quietly, taking a drink of coffee. “I didn’t kn–”

Agatha cuts him off. “Nobody knew,” she says, picking at the food on her plate. “Except, you know…”

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

“How did you do it?” she asks, eyes still focused on a piece of waffle.

“What?”

“With Peggy,” she clarifies. “How did you get through it? When I lost Nicky I had…plenty of distractions, but…not this time.”

Steve takes in a painful breath. “I…don’t know. I guess, at some point, you process it and you learn to live life without them–you live life for them. I guess it’s different with you two, though,” he says, sitting back in his seat. “A century is a pretty long time.”

Agatha hums. “Yeah, it is.” She finally looks up at him, an amused grin on her lips. “Who knew we had more in common than just being hot?”

 __________

“You know, I’d offer to cook you dinner, but you seem pretty miserable already.”

Steve leans against a shelf that separates the kitchen and dining table. When he and Agatha walk in, Nat sits at the table, hands pinching the bridge of her nose as she holds back tears.

“You here to do your laundry?” Nat asks.

Steve gestures to Agatha as she takes a seat with Nat. “Nope. Just droppin’ off Harkness.”

“Oh, yeah, he forced you to go to that support group he holds every week,” Natasha chuckles. “How did it go?”

“I started laughing during it,” Agatha smirks. “I had to leave.”

Nat hums. “Did he take you to that diner after?”

“Yeah,” Agatha chuckles. “It was nice, though. Thank you, Steve.”

A chime rings out and a hologram is displayed above the table. Nat sighs and taps at the invisible screen, and a sudden, vaguely familiar voice is talking.

“Uh,hi! Is anyone home?”

Across the room, a screen is lit up, showing a man at the front gate of the Compound.

“This is Scott Lang!” he shouts, waving at the camera. “We met a few years ago at the airport! You know, in Germany?” 

The three of them watch the video footage on the wall, exchanging confused looks with each other.

“I was the guy that got really big,” Scott continues. “I had a mask on. You wouldn’t recognize me.”

“Is this an old message?” Steve asks slowly, eyes glued to the screen.

“No,” Nat breathes. “It’s the front gate.”

Scott looks more and more desperate.”I really need to talk to you guys!”

Agatha, Nat, and Steve stand there awkwardly as Scott paces and mutters to himself.

“I thought he was blipped,” Agatha mutters to Nat.

Nod nods absentmindedly, squinting as she watches Scott. “So did I.”

“Scott,” Steve says. “Are you okay?”

He stops in his tracks. “Yeah.” Then he pauses, rubbing his face tiredly. “Have any of you ever studied quantum physics?”

“Only to make conversation,” Nat shrugs.

Scott perks up. “Okay, so…five years ago…right before…Thanos…I was in a place called the quantum realm. It’s like its own microscopic universe. To get in there, you have to be incredibly small. Hope, my, uhh…She was my…” He pauses, swallowing hard before getting back on track. “She was supposed to pull me out. And then Thanos happened, and I got stuck in there.”

“That must’ve been a very long five years,” Nat says.

“But that’s just it,” Scott says. “It wasn’t. For me, it was five hours.The rules of the quantum realm aren’t like they are up here. Everything is unpredictable.” His eyes dart to the kitchen table where a sandwich that Nat was making lies on a plate. “Is that anybody’s sandwich? I’m starving.”

“Scott, what are you talking about?” Steve asks.

“So,” Scott continues, mouth full of bread and peanut butter, “what I’m saying is, time works differently in the quantum realm. The only problem now is we don’t have a way to navigate it. But what if we did?” 

He starts pacing again, getting increasingly excited as he goes. “I can’t stop thinking about it. What if we could somehow control the chaos, and we could navigate it? What if there was a way we could enter the quantum realm at a certain point in time but then exit the quantum realm at another point in time? Like…like before Thanos.”

“Are you talking about a time machine?” Agatha scoffs.

“No. No, of course not,” Scott says.”No, not a time machine. It’s more like a…Okay, yeah. A time machine.” When he sees the looks on the other three’s faces, he gets defensive. “I know. I know, it sounds crazy. But I can’t stop thinking about it. There’s gotta be…some way…” He sighs and his face drops. “It’s crazy.”

“Scott, I get emails from a racoon,” Nat says. “So, nothing sounds crazy anymore.”

Scott nods slowly. “So, who do we talk to about this?”

Agatha sits in bed against the headboard, knees bent toward her as she hugs your pillow against her chest. The only light in the room is the bright TV as she watches more reruns of a sitcom. 

There’s a knock on the door and Steve enters at her quiet, “Come in.”

She doesn’t look at him, not right away. Even when he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

Agatha shrugs and responds with a hum.

“You don’t wanna do it, do you?” Steve sighs.

She looks at him now. “What?”

“The time travel thing,” he clarifies. “You don’t wanna do it.”

Agatha huffs. “It’s not that I don’t want to do it…I just…What if it doesn’t work?” Her fingers grip tighter onto your pillow. “You saw what happened after we killed Thanos…I can’t–” Her voice catches in her throat. “I can’t handle that again. It’s like I’m losing her all over again.”

Steve nods thoughtfully. “Yeah…I understand. But what if it does work? What if we are able to get everyone back?” 

When Agatha doesn’t respond, he sighs. “Look, I haven’t known her for nearly as long as you have. But I’ve known her long enough to know that if she was in your position, and she had the opportunity to try and get you back…she would jump on it in an instant.”

Agatha sighs, wiping away a tear and laughing quietly. “She’d probably take control of the entire thing.”

“She probably would,” Steve chuckles. His face drops and he swallows hard. “I know you don’t wanna hope. I can see it in your face. But I think you owe it to her, and you owe it to yourself, to try and get her back.”

“Myself?” she says quietly.

Steve nods. “You’ve lived a long life. You deserve to be happy, Agatha. I’ve gotten to know you in the past…what, eight years? 2015? You’re stubborn as hell. And more than anything, you always get what you want.” 

He stands up and heads back to the door. “If you want it to work, it’ll work.”

“I hate your optimism,” Agatha grumbles.

As Steve stands in the open doorway, he grins. “I know. I’ll be back in the morning around ten to pick Nat and Sott up. Just think about it, okay?”

The car doors slam shut. Tony stands outside on the porch of his cabin with his daughter in his arms. He doesn’t say anything, only acknowledging the four of them with a nod, but when they follow him in, he relents.

He pours five drinks when they’re back on the porch.

“Time travel?” he says, arching a brow.

“I know what it sounds like,” Scott says.

Steve scoffs. “Tony, after everything you’ve seen, is anything really impossible?”

“Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck scale,” Tony explains. “Which then triggers the Deutsch Proposition. Can we agree on that?” He hands Steve a drink. “In layman’s terms, it means you’re not coming home.”

“I did,” Scott shrugs.

“No,” Tony says. “You accidentally survived. It’s a billion-to-one cosmic fluke.” He begins to hand out the rest of the drinks. “And now you wanna pull a…What do you call it?”

Scott takes his glass and shrugs. “A time heist?”

“Yeah,” Tony scoffs. “A time heist. Of course. Why didn’t we think of this before? Oh, because it’s laughable. Because it’s a pipe dream.” 

“The stones are in the past,” Steve says. “We could go back, we could get them.”

“We can snap our own fingers,” Natasha nods. “We can bring everyone back.”

“Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?” Tony adds.

Steve’s face is cold. “I don’t believe we would.”

“I gotta say it,” Tony says. “Sometimes I miss that giddy optimism. However, high hopes won’t help if there’s no logical, tangible way for me to safely execute said time heist.” He takes a seat with his drink in a wicker chair. “I believe the most likely outcome will be our collective demise.”

“Not if we strictly follow the rules of time travel,” Scott counters. He sits down beside Tony. “That means, no talking to our past selves, no betting on sporting events.”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Tony says, putting out his hand. “Are you seriously telling me that your plan to save the universe is based on Back to the Future?”

“No,” Scott sighs.

“Good. You had me worried there,” Tony says, “because that would be horseshit. That’s not how quantum physics works.”

“Tony, we have to take a stand,” Nat says, face falling. 

Tony looks up at her. “We did take a stand. And yet, here we are.”

Agatha’s chest burns with frustration. “Tony, we have a chance to bring everyone back!” Her voice begins to rise quickly. “And you’re telling us that you won’t even–!”

The door to the cabin opens and closes loudly, followed by the pitter patter of little feet. As Tony’s daughter runs over, Agatha stops.

“Mommy told me to come save you,” Morgan says quietly, climbing into his lap.

“Good job,” Tony groans, picking her up. “I’m saved.”

After the failed attempt with Tony, the second best option was Bruce. He was hesitant at first, but it took very little convincing. 

“Alright, fire up the, uh, van thing.” Bruce stands at a control panel for the time machine.

When Scott opens the doors an endless tunnel is displayed, glowing yellow and blue. Steve walks back into the room, head held high.

“Breakers are set!” he calls. “Emergency generators are on standby.”

“Good, because if we blow the grid, I don’t wanna lose, uh, Tiny here in the 1950s,” Bruce chuckles.

Scott’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

Nat, who doesn’t look up from the tablet she’s typing on, snickers “He’s kidding.” She looks at Bruce and smiles. “You can’t say things like that.”

As Scott preps his gear, Agatha leans in close to Bruce, arms crossed and voice low. “You were joking right?”

“I…have no idea,” Bruce says awkwardly. “We’re talking about time travel here. Either it’s all a joke, or none of it is.” He turns away from Agatha and gives Scott a bright smile and a thumbs up. “We’re good!”

When Scott’s armor is secure Bruce starts up the time machine. “Alright, Scott, I’m gonna send you back a week, let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in ten seconds. Makes sense?”

Scott hesitates and then scoffs. “Yeah. Perfectly not confusing.”

When Scott is brought back the first time, he’s a teenager–and terrified. “Um…guys? This doesn’t feel right.”

“Is that Scott?” Nat asks.

“Yes, it’s Scott!” he snaps back. A button is pressed and teen Scott is sucked back into the time machine. When he reemerges, he’s about forty years older than his original self. “Oh, my back!”

“Oh, god, you turned him into a senile old man!” Agatha grimaces.

“Can you bring him back?” Steve panics.

Bruce rushes around the panel, pressing various buttons. “I’m working on it!”

Scott is sucked back into the van, and this time what pops back out is a baby.

“That is a baby!” Agatha shouts at Bruce. 

“It’s Scott,” Bruce points out.

Agatha gestures dramatically as her voice rises. “As a baby!” 

“He’ll grow!” Bruce tries to reason.

“Bring Scott back!” Steve argues.

Bruce presses buttons and turns knobs. “When I say kill the power, kill the power!” Nat groans as she runs to the electrical box. A loud, electrical whirring sound is heard as the time machine fires up again. “Kill the power!” Bruce calls.

And the baby is gone, replaced by the original Scott.

He stands there awkwardly. “Somebody peed my pants. But I don’t know if it was baby me or old me…or just me me.”

It’s warm outside as Agatha stands against a pillar. Footsteps come up behind her but she doesn’t look, because she already knows who it is.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” Steve sighs, standing next to her.

Agatha scoffs and lets out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. “It won’t work,” she says. “Not unless Tony gets his head out of his ass.”

And right on cue, the devil himself is pulling up in his sleek, black Audi. The tires squeak as he slams on the breaks and reverses.

The window rolls down and they’re met with Tony's smug face. “Why the long faces? Let me guess, he turned into a baby.”

Agatha rolls her eyes as Steve nods. “Among other things, yeah. What are you doing here?”

Tony gets out of the car. “It’s the EPR Paradox. Instead of pushing Lang through time, you might’ve wound up pushing time through Lang. It’s tricky, dangerous. Somebody could’ve cautioned you against it.”

“You did,” Agatha huffs.

“Oh, did I?” Tony perks up. “Well, thank God I’m here. Regardless, I fixed it.” He holds up his fist and wrapped around it is a metal band. “A fully functioning time-space GPS.”

It takes two weeks to get the entire thing situated–test runs, building a quantum portal, figuring out what dates and planets to travel back to. But now, as the sun rises, Agatha stands on the platform with the rest of the team.

Gears shift beneath their feet as the platform turns on and helmets activate. And then, the portal opens, and Agatha’s stomach is in her throat. The twists and turns of the quantum realm make her nauseous, but she regains her bearings when she lands on her own two feet in New York City.

“Alright, we all have our assignments,” Steve says sternly. “Two stones uptown, one stone down. Stay low. Keep an eye on the clock.”

A loud thud and roaring pierces the air and everyone jumps. In front of them, a bigger, angrier Hulk jumps forward and smashes an alien with a car. 

Everyone looks at Bruce who ducks his head in embarrassment. 

“Maybe smash a few things along the way,” Steve says.

Bruce rips off his shirt. “I think it’s gratuitous, but whatever.” He goes into the street, groaning and attempting a poor impression of his past self.

When Bruce leaves, Agatha, Steve, Tony, and Scott form their plan–break into Stark Tower and retrieve the Tesseract and Loki’s staff. The breaking into part is easy, but the Tesseract is another story.

When they round the corner of the building they landed behind, everyone freezes–and Agatha…well, Agatha almost collapses right then and there.

Every Avenger but Bruce is gathered as one–Tony, Steve, Nat, Clint, Thor…and you. 

As the other three move back to hide, Agatha stays right there.

“Agatha, what are you doing?” Steve asks.

But she doesn’t respond. She takes a step forward to see you better. Her heart flutters seeing you again, tears prick her eyes, and her stomach twists in knots.

“She’s…” Agatha’s lips are parted as she gapes. Her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. “It’s her first mission, she…”

Steve slowly comes up behind her. “Agatha, we need to go.”

Agatha doesn’t listen. Instead she takes another step, and another, and another. Tears stream down her face as she begins calling your name, but Steve’s arms are around her instantly and his hand covers her mouth. 

As he drags her back into the alley, she struggles against his grasp, cursing and screaming into his hand. Steve turns her around, hands grasping her shoulders.

“You can’t do that!” he spits out.

Agatha rips herself out of his grasp. “Let go of me!”

“I know you wanna go to her,” Steve says, voice calming. “But you can’t. She has a job to do just like us. Okay?”

Agatha doesn’t say a word, instead she sniffles and looks away with red, puffy eyes. And then she gives him a small nod.

Agatha and Tony not-so-discreetly fly up to the balcony of the lounge. Scott, in his ant size, rides on Tony’s shoulder.

They duck behind a divider, observing the 2012 Avengers as they corner Loki. 

And Agatha’s heart threatens to break again.

She watches you again, throat tight and eyes watering as you laugh at a joke Nat made. In front of Agatha, Tony scoffs. “Mr. Rogers, I almost forgot that that suit did nothing for your ass.”

“No one asked you to look, Tony,” Steve says in the ear piece.

Scott, still on Tony’s shoulder, radios through his own ear piece. “I think you look great, Cap. As far as I’m concerned, that’s America’s ass.”

Agatha peeks through the divider, observing the cut of 2012 Steve’s suit. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “I gotta say, I agree with Scott. That’s America’s ass.”

“I thought you were a lesbian,” Tony says, turning his head to look at her.

Agatha scoffs. “Just because I’m a lesbian, doesn’t mean I can’t look. You have a nice ass, Steve.”

“See, Tony,” Steve says. “Harkness is a lesbian and even she agrees that I have a nice ass.”

Tony huffs and rolls his eyes. “Okay we’re getting off topic here.”

Without warning, the elevator dings and the doors open. Agatha and Tony sneak off quickly, hiding behind a wall that separates the lounge. They crouch down as they observe the interactions.

“Who are these guys?” Scott asks.

Tony watches carefully. “They’re S.H.I.E.L.D. Well, actually Hydra, but we didn’t know that yet.”

“Are you serious?” Agatha scoffs. “She told me they turned out to be Hydra, but she didn’t tell me they actually looked like bad guys.”

When the case to the Tesseract is open, Tony flicks Scott across the room. Both Tony and Agatha run out quickly, jumping off the edge of the balcony and flying down. They hover for a moment as Tony analyzes the building.

“Alright, Cap, got the scepter in the elevator, just passing the 80th floor,” he says.

“On it,” Steve says. “Head to the lobby.”

Agatha feels stupid as she looks at herself in the security uniform.

“Ugh, why are these things so itchy?” she complains, pulling at the neck cover.

“They’re just for a few minutes,” Tony sighs. “Just until we get the Tesseract.” The elevator in the lobby opens and the 2012 Avengers march out. “Thumbelina, do you copy?” Tony says. “I have eyes on the prize. It is go time.”

Scott’s voice crackles in the ear piece. “Bombs away.”

A large crowd is now forming and emotions begin running high as the Avengers begin arguing with the agents.

“Alright, Stuart Little,” Tony says quietly, “let’s go. Things are getting dicey out here.”

“Promise me you won’t die?” Scott says.

Tony’s voice is a mumble. “You’re only giving me a mild cardiac dysrhythmia.”

“That doesn’t sound mild,” Scott says.

“Just do it!” Agatha hisses. “We need to get out of here.”

As 2012 Tony convulses on the floor and the briefcase is left unattended, Agatha waves her hands and the metal case flies to her. She hands it off to Tony as they head for the exit, but when the door to the stairs bursts open, both of them are knocked down and the Hulk stomps in.

They lay on the ground, the wind knocked out of them as panic ensues.

“Where’s the case?”

“Where’s Loki?”

Scott radios through the ear piece as the both of them get up. “That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?”

Back in the alley, Agatha sits in the passenger seat of a beat up car with Tony in the driver seat and Scott in the back. Steve jumps down from a fire exit in front of the car.

“Hey, Cap,” Tony says. “We have a problem.”

Scott scoffs. “Yeah, we do.”

The situation is explained to Steve and the mood has dampened quickly.

“So what do we do now?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know!” Tony huffs.”Give me a break, I just got hit in the head with the Hulk.”

“You said that we have one shot,” Scott says, frustration boiling in his words. “This was our shot. We shot it. It’s shot. Six stones or nothing. Six stones or nothing!”

Tony hangs out the car window. “You’re repeating yourself, you know that? You’re repeating yourself.”

“You’re repeating yourself. You’re repeating yourself,” Scott mocks. 

“Oh, come on!”

“No, you never wanted a time heist!” Scott says. “You weren’t on board with the time heist!”

“I dropped the ball!” Tony says.

“You ruined the time heist!”

Agatha, who’s now outside of the car, and leaning against the hood, groans. “Oh my god, shut up!”

All three men look at her.

“Stop acting like children!” Agatha snaps. “It’s nobody’s fault! It’s done. There’s no going back. The mission…” Her voice is tight. “We failed. That’s it.”

“There have to be other options for the Tesseract,” Steve says.

“No, no, no!” Scott says, flipping out at the idea. “There are no other options! You heard Harkness, we failed! There are no do-overs. We’re not going anywhere else. We have one Pym Particle left–each. We use that…bye-bye, you’re not going home.”

Steve huffs. “Well, if we don’t try, then no one else is going home, either”

Tony gasps, getting out of the car quickly. “I got it! There’s another way to retake the Tesseract and acquire new particles!”

“And how, pray tell, are you going to do that?” Agatha asks, rolling her eyes.

Tony ignores her and goes straight up to Steve. “A little stroll down memory lane. Military installation. Garden State.”

As they discuss their plan, both Scott and Agatha look at each other, confused.

“What are we doing?” Scott asks, but he receives no answer. “What’s happening? What is it?”

“Improvising,” Steve says. He hands the scepter to Agatha. “Get this back to the Compound.”

__________

Despite every Infinity Stone being in possession, the Compound is bleak. 

“Do we know if she had any family?” Tony asks.

“Yeah,” Steve croaks. “Us.”

The fresh air on the dock does little to help with the shock of Nat’s death.

Thor walks up to Tony, sneering at him. “What?”

“Huh?”

“You’re acting like she’s dead,” Thor says. “Why are you acting like she’s dead? We have the stones right? As long as we have the stones, Cap, we can bring her back, right? So, stop this shit. We’re the Avengers. Get it together!”

“We can’t get her back,” Clint chokes. “It can’t be undone. It can’t.

Useless arguments play out as Clint and Thor debate the possibility of Nat being revived.

“It can’t be undone!” Clint insists. “A soul for the Soul Stone! That’s it. That’s the price.You can’t undo it.”

Agatha surprises herself with how affected she is by this. Five or six years ago, the only person she’d feel this way about would be you. But Nat was there. Nat picked up the broken pieces for Agatha. Nat was the one who forced her out of bed to keep living. Nat was the one who cared for her when she couldn’t care for herself.

“She’s not coming back,” Agatha mutters, sniffling. “She sacrificed herself for the stone, we have to make this right.”

All six Infinity Stones are locked onto the new gauntlet. 

Space.

Power.

Time.

Reality.

Mind.

Soul.

“Alright,” Rocket says. “The glove’s finished. The question is, who’s gonna snap their freakin’ fingers?”

Multiple people put themselves forward, and they’re all shot down. Thor even makes an excuse of being the strongest Avenger, and therefore he should be the one to snap his fingers–and he even breaks into tears as he begs Tony.

But in the end, it’s Bruce.

“The radiation’s mostly gamma,” he explains. “It’s like I was made for this.”

“Alright,” Tony sighs. “Bring everyone back.Don’t change anything from the last five years.”

Bruce nods. “Got it.”

Those with armor suit up as if they’re going into battle. Agatha stands beside Sott, a wary look on her face as a shield of purple is formed in front of them. Metal doors encase the room from ceiling to wall with loud thuds, and then it becomes quiet.

“Everybody comes home,” Bruce mutters.

Agatha’s heart is thundering in her ears. Everybody comes home.

Every person–and raccoon–in the room watches intently as Bruce slides the gauntlet onto his hand. It adjusts in size and streams of bright color swim up his arm. He collapses instantly, groaning loudly in pain as electricity crackles over his back. 

“Take it off!” Thor shouts. “Take it off!”

Steve holds out his hand. “No, wait! Bruce, are you okay?”

Bruce doesn’t respond, and groans and yells even more as he clutches the gauntlet with his other hand.

“Talk to me, Banner,” Tony says.

And then he nods. Bruce seethes, “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

He screams as he uses every last bit of strength in him to raise his hand. And then, he snaps. A white flash, and he collapses.

Tony, Steve, and Thor are on him immediately, but when the metal doors lift, Agatha’s head turns. There’s a ray of sunshine beating down into the small courtyard, and on the tree is a small flock of birds. She gasps quietly as she follows Scott.

“There are birds,” she whispers. “There haven’t…They haven’t been out there in years.” She looks at Scott, and she can’t help but smile, because the birds tell her everything she needs to know.

The Infinity Stones worked.

And you’ll be back in her arms by tonight.

__________

Your eyes flutter open against bright sunlight. You can still feel the imprint of Agatha’s kiss on your lips, but Agatha herself is nowhere to be found.

It feels like only moments have passed by–like you passed out and woke up again seconds later. But you know that’s not what happened.

Is she alive?

Where’s Agatha?

What happened?

You roll over quickly and steady yourself on your knees. All around you is confusion. Wanda lays on the muddy ground, Sam is just coming to his senses, Bucky and T’Challa have just reformed into their own beings, and no one knows what’s happened.

“Wanda?” you call out, and run over to her as she sits up. 

The last time you saw her was hunched over Vision’s lifeless body, but he’s nowhere to be seen, and Wanda’s slowly remembering what happened. Sam comes over, Bucky joining him soon after, and no one knows what to do. 

“Where is he?” Wanda panics. “Where’s his body?”

A ring of shimmering orange and gold manifests in the air with the bottom quarter ending on the ground. Inside is a portal to what looks like a grand entrance hall. A man walks through the arch, drawing robes. His face is stern, almost somber, and everyone exchanges glances.

The man takes a careful look at each one of you and nods at T’Challa. “Your majesty…”

“What the hell is going on?” Bucky asks. “Where is everybody?”

“It’s been five years,” the man explains, all too calm with his words. “Thanos wiped out half of all living creatures in the universe.” He turns to T’Challa. “Thanos is back. I need you to gather every soldier you can. We’re going to battle.”

__________

Blood trickles from her forehead and water rains down on her face.

It happened quickly–the stones, the birds, the explosion. 

Agatha’s head throbs as the sound of streaming water hits her ears. When her eyes open, her vision is slowly going back into focus, but it’s dark. 

“I can’t breathe!” Rocket’s small shrieks come from only a few yards away. “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!”

James crawls from his suit of armor toward Rocket, lifting a sheet of rock from his body. Agatha sits up quickly and regrets it immediately as her head gets dizzy. 

“Rhodey!” Bruce stands on the opposite side of them, arms flexed above him as he holds up a piece of concrete. 

When the three of them look, a wave of water floods down, filling their pocket of rubble.

“Mayday!” Rhodes calls over the ear piece. “Mayday! Does anyone copy? We’re on the lower level! It’s flooding!” No answer. “Mayday! We are drowning! Does anybody copy?”

The water is rising quickly. Agatha’s head is tilted back as she tries to stay above water. 

Only one voice answers.

“Wait!” Scott’s voice is filled with static. “I’m here! I’m here! Can you hear me? Hang on! I’m coming!”

Of course it would end like this, Agatha thinks.

The stones worked.

You’re back.

But she’ll still never get to hold you again.

Scott manifests in front of them out of the blue–literally. He struggles in the water, but manages to stay afloat. “Okay, here’s the plan guys. I’ll make myself a bit bigger and I’ll gather all of you in my arms and make myself giant and bust out of here. How does that sound? Because if you think it could be better–!”

“Drowning!” Agatha yells, cutting him off.

“Oh, right!” he panics. He grows about four feet taller. The concrete crumbles around them, but the four of them move to Scott. His arms wrap around them tightly and then, with a press of a button, he’s growing again.

Scott’s hand catches all four of them and he balls up his fist. It’s dark, but when the sound of crumbling concrete dissipates and his hand opens again, portals fill the sky. Rings of gold give way to distant lands and below, in the rubble of the Compound, are thousands of people in battle formation.

Agatha’s eyes scan the battlefield as she hovers in the air. When she spots you, her world tilts on its axis. You stand beside Wanda, orange balls of magic radiating from your palms, but you never look up. You don’t see her.

Battle cries and screaming pierce the air as both sides sprint toward each other. Leviathans drift through air as Chitauri and Outriders storm the ground, but Agatha doesn’t care. Her eyes remain on you, even when dodging plasma rays and blades. 

But it doesn’t last long. Agatha loses sight of you after a Leviathan goes down and she searches frantically on the field of rubble. Clouds of dirt and flames block her view. All she desires right now is to see you again, but even in the air, she can’t spot you.

When she lands, it’s right by Steve, who’s wielding a giant axe. As she clears out the never-ending stream of Outriders, she watches Thor take the axe and hand him the hammer.

Agatha scoffs loudly and chuckles. “Look at you, pretty boy!” she teases. “We got Mister Chosen One over here!”

Steve laughs and rolls his eyes. “Alright, Harkness.”

“I mean, I knew you were a goody two-shoes,” she laughs. “But, really? The hammer?”

“Well, this hammer is about to save your ass,” Steve calls, and launches the hammer towards her. It misses her by inches and lands right in the face of a Chitauri before flying back into his hand.

__________

“Cap, what do you want me to do with this damn thing?” Clint’s voice radios over the ear piece as you and Wanda stand back to back.

“Get those stones as far away as possible!” Steve responds.

Bruce is heard next.”No! We need to get them back where they came from!”

“No way to get them back,” Tony says. “Thanos destroyed the quantum tunnel.”

A familiar yet vague voice radios over, “Hang on. That wasn’t our only time machine.”

As you knock down a swarm of Outriders you watch T’Challa, with the Infinity Gauntlet in hand, become encased in a tower of rubble. You call out his name and retrieve the gauntlet with a glow of orange from your hand, flying past the man whose aim is to get it. Above you, Peter is swinging from obstacle to obstacle.

“Hey, Parker!” you shout, and he looks down. “Go long!”

You throw the gauntlet and he manages to catch it with a web. When you land on the ground, your breath stops. Just a few hundred feet away, within running distance, is Agatha. You shout–scream–her name, and just as you start running, and just as her eyes lock on yours, you’re knocked back by an explosion.

Blue plasma rays shower the rubble of the Compound. You drag yourself a few yards to duck beneath the ceiling of a gold shield held up by a sorcerer. Your eyes scan the grounds, but you’ve lost sight of her. It’s nothing but smoke and dirt and concrete powder, all mixed in a whirl of flames.

When the explosions stop, it’s quiet. Eyes are immediately averted to the sky where the canons have begun firing at another object. A flash of light shoots through the sky before the space ship above begins falling. Mini explosions are set off, one by one until it’s landed in the lake. 

“Hey, Danvers,” Steve says, voice crackling over the ear piece, “we could use an assist over here.”

You don’t hesitate. You’re on your feet–then in the air. You watch Wanda fly toward the direction that Peter was going and you follow her quickly, still scanning the field for Agatha. With Carol taking the gauntlet, you assist Wanda with the Leviathans. More explosions fill the battlefield as Carol flies through machinery and debris, and you watch as Thanos sprints toward her, double edged sword in hand.

You call out Pepper’s name and the two of you, with two other women you’ve never met, charge at him. The combination of the magic and plasma rays send him flying back as Carol keeps flying toward the brown van. 

But he gets up.

And he raises his arm.

And the double edged sword is launched into the time machine.

You’re blasted back at least fifty feet by the burst of energy that erupts. And when you land, face first into the rubble, your head is pounding and your nose is bleeding. 

You don’t move. 

You don’t want to move.

You lay there, breathing heavily. Your eyelids are heavy as you watch the last ditch efforts of everyone against Thanos. 

Thor and Steve are violently thrown against the ground.

Carol is forced away by the Power Stone.

And then Tony gets up. 

Your eyes are slowly becoming too heavy to keep open, and you desperately want to close them. To sleep. To wake up when everything’s over. To wake up when Agatha’s there.

It’s quiet, almost drowned out from the ringing in your ears. But you know your name was just called. Tony is still fighting Thanos, Steve and Thor lay on the ground unconscious, Carol is nowhere to be seen. But then you hear it again. And again.

You roll onto your back and take in a painful breath–definitely a broken rib or two. Your name is called again, and even through the pain, you sit up. Your vision is slowly focusing and when you see that purple lycra jumpsuit and that frizzy, brown hair, you push the pain aside and climb to your feet.

You sprint toward her.

You don’t stop, not even when you stumble on a piece of concrete. 

Agatha throws herself at you with all the force of a semi-truck, completely toppling you over as she laughs and cries. She’s covered in dirt and dried blood matts her hair and stains her clothes. 

“Ow! Ow!” you say through a messy combination of laughter and tears.

“I’m sorry!” she cries. “I’m sorry!”

You wince, clutching your side as her hands hold your face.”It’s fine, it’s just some broken ribs…and a broken nose, I think. I’ll be okay.”

As you sit on the ground, you cling to her. Agatha’s hands grab at every inch of you, as if testing to see if you’re really back.

Her hands cup your cheeks. She presses kiss after kiss to your face and when she pulls away, her lips are trembling and her face is red and splotchy. Her thumbs gently caress your skin and she looks over you, letting out a soft cry. 

“You’re really back,” she croaks. Agatha presses a hard, tearful kiss to your lips. “God, I missed you.” Another kiss to your lips and she pulls you in closer than ever. As she holds your head, she buries her nose in your hair and inhales deeply. 

Nothing has changed. You still smell like the shampoo and conditioner you used that morning before going to the jet hangar. You still smell like your perfume–the perfume she occasionally sprays on her pillow to ease her to sleep at night. Even covered in blood and dirt, you’re still you. 

Agatha takes a deep, shuddering breath in and lets it out. “I love you so much.”

With your head on Agatha’s shoulder you can see across the field of debris. Thanos stands there, Infinity Gauntlet on, but his face has fallen. And then your eyes drift.

Tony kneels on the ground, hand raised, and when you focus on him, there they are.

All six Infinity Stones are locked in the glove of his armor.

Your eyes widen. “Oh my god!”

“What?” Agatha asks quickly, pulling away.

And then he snaps.

A white flash and then silence.

Eerie, skin-crawling silence.

Ash and dust are now floating through the air as Thanos’s army crumbles. Agatha helps you up and the two of you make the walk toward Tony. The sight of him makes your stomach drop. He’s pale and his eyes stare straight ahead, struggling to focus on who’s in front of him.

Peter crouches down in front him, hands resting on the warm metal of his armor. “Mr. Stark, can you hear me?” His voice is straining and stumbles through his words. “It’s Peter. We won.” He smiles through his tears. “We won, Mr. Stark. We won, Mr. Stark. We won. You did it, sir, you did it.” 

Peter starts crumbling, hands clinging onto Tony. “Mr. Stark…Tony…”

Agatha steps forward, her hands gently taking his shoulders. “Peter, sweetheart.” He stands up and curls in her arms, sobbing against her shoulder. Agatha holds him tightly, hand rubbing over his back. “I know,” she mumbles. “It’s okay.”

The weeks after the battle are a haze. With the Compound gone, the only other place is Stark Tower, but Pepper informs you that it’ll be shut down within the next month. So, that’s where those remaining stay until they can find a new home.

Two nights after, you’re woken up by the feeling of Agatha thrashing in sleep. You can see her breathing beginning to quicken and when your hand shakes her awake she gasps. Her eyes fly open and she sits up, hyperventilating and looking around.

“Agatha,” you say, trying to calm her down. “Agatha!” She stops when your hands grab a hold of her and force her to look at you. “It’s okay.” Your hands cup her cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears that slipped free. “It’s okay,” you breathe. “It’s just a dream.”

The panic leaves her body and her eyes close. Her hand takes one of yours and she kisses your palm. “I’m–uhh–gonna go to the bathroom,” she rasps, and drops your hand. 

The door to the bathroom opens and shuts, and you’re left to sit alone in bed.

And these nights repeat many times.

You can’t leave the bed unless Agatha is up before you, otherwise she panics and searches for you frantically.

One night, you were gone for twenty minutes to get a glass of water. Agatha had been fast asleep when you left, but the second you opened the door the sound of sobbing hit your ears. You rushed in to find her curled around your pillow with red and puffy eyes.

She sits up quickly when she sees you and you climb into bed. “Agath, wha–?”

“Where were you?” she sobs into your shoulder as your arms wrap around her.

Your hands run through her hair as she cries quietly. “I’m so sorry,” you mutter. “I didn’t realize…I was just getting some water…I’m sorry.”

Tony’s funeral is intimate and quiet. You and Agatha stand with Wanda, Bucky, and Sam as you watch the flowers float along the water. Dinner is served–also quiet–and soon, you find yourself alone with Steve on the porch.

“What happened during those five years?” you ask, accepting a beer that he offers you. 

He takes a seat beside you. “You mean in general, or–?”

You open the beer and take a drink of it. “Agatha,” you say. “What happened with Agatha when I was…gone?”

“Umm, well…” He sits back, sips his beer, and nods his head thoughtfully. “A lot. Nat and I were usually the ones who were there for her. She, uhh…” He looks at you and sighs. “She wasn’t okay.”

“I figured,” you hum.

“She didn’t leave her room for almost a month,” Steve says. “And then, we killed Thanos, hoping to get everyone back using the Stones, and…she started isolating. Nat made sure she ate, helped her shower. The first year was…really, really hard on her.” Steve chuckles. “Last month, I took her to a support group I started for people to talk about the Blip.”

“Oh, Jesus,” you scoff. “And how did that turn out?”

“She started laughing during it,” Steve shrugs.

You take a sip of your beer. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“I know she won’t tell you this,” Steve says, “because she’s Agatha and she doesn’t want to be seen as someone with feelings…but, uhh…she has to take sedatives to sleep.”

“Really?” you ask quietly, heart breaking at the mere thought.

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” you breathe, clearing your throat and drinking your beer. You wipe away a tear and then chuckle. “You know, the last time I saw you two interact was in Wakanda when she told you that your punches were sloppy.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah, we’ve…we’ve gotten closer. I can see what you love about her.”

The screen door creaks open and Agatha steps outside. “Oh, good. There you are,” she sighs, clearly annoyed by someone inside. “Are you ready to go, or are you gonna crack open another cold one with Pretty Boy here?”

You stand up and hand her the beer, smiling as she immediately downs the rest of it. “Yes, I’m ready. Give me a second.”

When Steve stands up, you hug him tightly while standing on your tippy toes. “I love you…Thank you,” you whisper, watching over his shoulder as Agatha walks toward the car. Your voice is breaking now, and tears start to spill down your cheeks as he holds you tight. 

“Thank you, both, for taking care of her when I wasn’t able to.”

It’s cold and bleak outside when you move into your apartment the following month. It’s slow, but Agatha begins pulling away–physically, emotionally. But you’re still there for her when she wakes up screaming. You’re still in the kitchen making chamomile tea to help her fall back asleep. You’re still there, waiting for her to come back to you.

You’re there for her, but no one is there for you.

Not Steve.

Not Nat.

Not Tony.

Not anyone you called family.

But you don’t say a word, because Agatha needs you. 

And as much as you love and cherish her…it doesn’t feel mutual anymore.

You lay in bed at night, watching her sleep–the slow rise and fall of her chest, the quiet snores that slip out of her mouth. She looks so peaceful, but when you see her eyelids fluttering and feel her limbs twitching under the covers, you know what it means. She thrashes around, only startling awake when your hand touches her.

“Agatha, it’s okay,” you whisper, sleep weighing heavy on your shoulders. Your hands reach out for her, but she flinches and you pull away. “What’s the m–?”

Agatha recoils and balls up her fists, clenching and unclenching them repeatedly. “Just–it’s fine–I’m fine.” She gets out of bed and sighs as she opens the bathroom door. “You can go back to sleep, I’ll be a while.”

So, you listen to her, and you go to sleep.

That’s all you do.

Sleep.

But not in her arms. 

You sleep on your side of bed, tucked under the covers as Agatha lays facing away from you. 

It’s like she’s a whole different person. In the century that you’ve known her, she always had a hand on you–your lower back as you walked down the street, on your leg as you sat beside her reading, on your waist while sleeping. There was never a moment where she wasn’t touching you. And now there is.

You miss her.

You miss the old Agatha that would tease you for doing everything in a pattern of three.

You miss the old Agatha who would kiss you and touch you, and run her finger tips over the side of your waist, knowing how sensitive you are.

You miss your Agatha.

There’s a moment where you think she’s coming back. She’s slowly starting to smile again–starting to laugh again, returning to her wit, slowly but surely becoming herself again. 

You walk into the bedroom with a full basket of clean laundry. When the door opens, Agatha’s searching the closet for a pair of clothes.

“Oh, good, you’re up!” you chirp. “I was thinking that we could go get a late lunch or early dinner. Maybe around three?” You set the basket down on the dresser and lean against the doorframe of the closet, looking up at her. “Nowhere fancy, but I just don’t feel like cooking.”

Agatha passes you a glance. “Yeah, sure.” 

“Okay,” you mutter. “If you have anywhere you wanna go, just…tell me and we’ll go…”

You take her hand and squeeze it before reaching up and aiming to place a kiss on her cheek.

But she pulls away.

Your hand lets go of hers and drops to your side. “Why won’t you touch me?” you ask quietly.

“What?”

“You won’t touch me,” you say. Your voice is meek and you hold back tears. “Why?”

Agatha hesitates. “I don’t–what are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you say. The frustration builds quickly, and as hard as you tried not to, your voice ends up rising. “You won’t touch me, Agatha! You haven’t touched me in months! You barely hug me! Barely kiss me! You’ve pulled away from me! Why?”

“I’m sorry that I’ve been grieving for the past five years!” Agatha shouts back. 

Tears flood your eyes and you quickly bite back. “Well, I’m grieving right now!”

Agatha’s jaw tenses and her eyes flare. “What are you grieving? You didn’t lose anything! You didn’t spend five years by yourself!”

“You didn’t spend them by yourself!” you yell. “You isolated! Steve and Nat did everything to help you! He told me at the funeral, everything they did for you, and you say you grieved alone?”

The dam breaks and your vision is clouded with tears. “I am grieving alone! You’re the only close person I have left in my life, and you’re not even here!”

“Steve and Nat were two of my closest friends! They took care of you! I am grieving them, Agatha! The world that I lived in is gone!” Your throat is tight, but you continue. “The life I knew is gone! The family that I loved for ten years is gone! The Compound is gone! Our home is gone! You’re not the only one grieving, Agatha!” You take a deep, steadying breath and look her in the eyes. “It was five years for me too, even if I wasn’t here to experience it.”

Agatha opens and closes her mouth, but clearly doesn’t know what to say.

So you continue.

Tears continue streaming your cheeks. “I am devastated that you had to spend those years grieving. But I feel like you’re punishing me for it! I didn’t choose to go, Agatha,” you breathe. 

You sniffle and let out a sob, your voice strained as you practically beg her. “I want you back. I want you to do more than just hug me. I want your touch. I want you to kiss me!” You almost have to force your next words out. “I want you to love me like you did five years ago!”

Your head drops in your hands and your palms press into your eyes. “Oh, god,” you sigh, shoulders shaking. When you uncover your eyes, Agatha stands there, thinking of what to say. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle. “I just…Agatha, I miss you. I nee–”

You’re pulled into her arms immediately with a hard kiss on your lips. Your arms wrap around her tightly, tears mixing with spit and teeth and tongue. It’s impossible to get close enough to her. 

You both stumble to the bed and you fall down onto the mattress in a heap. You’re both gasping for breath as clothes are frantically ripped from one another’s bodies, and you almost moan from how good the skin-to-skin contact feels.

The both of you sit in the center of the bed. Agatha’s arms hold you as you sit in her lap, legs wrapped around her waist as you kiss her hard. Tears have begun to fall from her eyes now, mixing with your own and adding the flavor of salt to the kisses.

“I’m sorry,” she huffs into your mouth. Agatha presses a gentle, wet kiss on your lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“I miss you,” you whisper, and kiss her again. “Touch me. Love me. Please, Agatha.”

Her hands pull your face in as she presses frantic kiss after frantic kiss to your lips. “I love you.” A kiss. “I love you so much.” Another kiss. “I love you so fucking much. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You pull her down on top of you. She straddles your hips as she kisses you, muttering quiet apologies between each one.

“I don’t care,” you mumble. You roll her onto her side and your legs tangle as you pull her in close. “Stop apologizing and kiss me.”

Hands grab and grope at skin. Agatha’s lips attach to your neck and she rolls you onto your back again. Her fingertips graze over your side and she smiles in the crook of your neck as you shiver.

You arch into her feverish touch as her fingers trail lower and lower. Your breaths are shallow with anticipation, and after almost two months (and five years), the touch that you’ve been craving so badly has returned.

You tremble beneath her, fingers digging into the pillow under your head. Agatha’s lips return to yours in a fiery passion of teeth and tongue and you gasp in her mouth.

“I love you,” you huff. “I love you, I love you, Agatha.”

Her fingers don’t change their pace. They’re steady, not quite slow, but enough to drive you to the brink as she presses into you. “I love you,” she mumbles, and kisses you hard. 

“I wanna cum,” you cry, lips brushing hers, and nails digging into her arm and shoulder. “I wanna cum, please!”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your jaw drops. Agatha kisses you hard as you shake and sob, grabbing at every possible thing to ground yourself.

She slowly fucks you through the aftershocks, pressing kiss after kiss to your face. “I love you,” she mutters between each one. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

When she brings her fingers back up, you don’t hesitate. With wide eyes, you take them quickly, sticking them in your mouth to lick clean. She watches you in awe–a look that she’d given you a hundred times before.

“God, you are incredible,” she breathes. 

The rest of the afternoon is spent like this–backs arched, breaths heavy, chests covered in sweat, and hands grasping at whatever they can reach.

Agatha’s thumbs softly swipe over your cheeks as the kisses slow and noses brush against each other.

“So much for an early dinner,” you say, stifling a yawn as you lay on your side facing Agatha.

“Did you really think I stopped loving you?” Agatha murmurs, pulling away just enough to look at you.

Her hand brushes through your hair as you sniffle. “No…I don’t know…I think I was just being dramatic.” 

You let out a quiet chuckle and Agatha shakes her head. “No,” she croaks. “You’re not. I…I missed you so fucking much but I didn’t even…I never asked about you once…how you were feeling…I’m sorry.” 

Your eyes, puffy from tears, soften as you look over her face. Your hand rests over her forearm in a comforting way to both of you. “Steve told me that you went to a support group,” you snicker. “And that you had to leave because you started laughing.”

Agatha rolls onto her back and groans. “Yes, I did. And it wasn’t as helpful as he said it would be. Is there anything else he told you?”

“That you can’t sleep without taking a sedative,” you whisper, still on your side and facing her.

Agatha’s head turns quickly to face you. “What?”

“It’s okay,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about it, but I wanted you to know that I know.”

Tears fill her eyes once again. “I’m sorry,” she rasps. “I told you that you did have to worry, but…I’m sorry.”

Your hand rests gently on her cheek. “Agatha, don’t apologize for the way you coped with your grief. I’m here now. We can grieve together.”

__________

You’ve never been more content.

You lay in bed, in the darkness of your bedroom with the only light being the TV on. You let out a quiet chuckle as you watch the sitcom you had seen a thousand times.

And the best part–Agatha’s arms are wrapped around you again.

Your face rests against her chest and her fingers run up and down your back. You can hear her heart beating beneath your ear and your eyes grow heavy. 

“I wanna get married,” she blurts out.

You look up at her, wide awake now. “What?”

Agatha swallows hard. “The night that we were supposed to go see a show on the West End…I was gonna propose to you at dinner. I wanna get married.”

“Agatha, I…” You smile softly and let out a sigh. “For better or for worse, right?”

Agatha leans in, planting a gentle kiss on your lips. And with the laugh tracks in the background, she smiles, muttering, “And ‘til death do us part.”

[theseerasures]

A Theory on the Periodization of Wicked: Part One

in light of now technically being caught up to the production history of Wicked and having seen the show so many times it beggars belief, i want to take a stab at answering the question undoubtedly plaguing everyone's minds:

are there any distinctive periods in Wicked's now 20+ year production history, and how would one characterize them?

THE CAVEATS

don't worry i'm keeping it short

US productions only. i plan to watch international shows eventually, but haven't yet, and so do not feel qualified to cast aspersions on any of them.

THAT'S MY OPIINNNNIIIOOONNNNNN

OCT 2003 (Broadway Opening) - FEB 2007 (LA Opening): WICKED 1.0

...it's the beginning. it's when the Wicked started

okay fine: this is the most easily definable era of Wicked, because after the 2007 cutoff the literal script of the show substantively changed. if the original cast recording were your only exposure to Wicked the musical, watching the show from this period likely presents the least jarring transition across media. if you've been exposed to any other aspect--like say the movie adaptation--of Wicked since, however, these earliest shows may feel very bizarre, and will give the wrong idea about what the show has been like for the vast majority of its lifespan.

it would be unfair to define this era based on what was missing, since it's not like THEY had the benefit of hindsight; at the same time, what gives this period its specific character is its "work-in-progress" nature. the very early years of this period--we'll say before Idina left--highlight Wicked's identity crisis: it's a derivative work of The Wizard of Oz, so Idina and Cheno occasionally feel compelled to give Margaret Hamilton and Billie Burke; it's a serious personal and political drama staged in the middle of the War on Terror, so we have to underplay key moments in this show about how it's wrong to be racist against talking animals and green women; it's Pure Entertainment, so we're gonna stop the show cold to see how many broad gags Kristin Chenoweth can cram into a nine minute segment.

the skeleton of what makes Wicked Wicked was undeniably already there, especially when it comes to characterizing the principals. this is why i don't think the OBC in isolation can constitute its own era. not when their most immediate successors were oftentimes their standbys and understudies, and certainly not when there were no other interpretative options around: everyone's depictions had to be defined along with or against the original. what's interesting, then, is how Idina and Cheno (Norbie and Michelle as well but this is already long enough) presented very different blueprints for their successors.

Idina's interpretation of Elphaba was, much like her version of Wicked, more a sample platter than anything else. she was a little sardonic here, a little idealistic there; a little devastated, a little heartbroken, a little downright mad. the only discernible link tying them all together was just...Idina's own charisma and singing prowess. it's what won her that Tony, and it speaks volumes of her influence that even now several Idina-isms for Elphaba have never been seriously iterated upon. the Elphies following her pragmatically understood that Idina's Elphaba wouldn't be sustainable without Idina, and ended up splitting the difference in their respective portrayals. Shoshana Bean and Ana Gasteyer went the idealistic route (tho Ana was much more melancholic about it), while Eden Espinosa and Julia Murney sharpened the cynicism already present.

Cheno by contrast had a VERY specific vision for Glinda. she was cast on the basis of her preternatural charm and comedic chops, but she largely deployed those to claw back into the audience's good graces after a) serving Mean Girl Classic in Act One, or b) manipulating Fiyero to get a pass on the oopsie-doodle fascism. coupled with the Billie Burke sendups in her vocal work, this made her Glinda come across as sometimes willfully complicit in all the nefarious villainy. it was this specific aspect of Cheno's Glinda that those following right after--Jennifer Laura Thompson and Kate Reinders in Chicago--tried to capture. for a few years there it felt almost inevitable that Glindas were going to keep trending antagonistic...

and then Megan Hilty descended upon the scene amid a stream of bubbles, several of which went down her throat, shouted "I LOVE MY BEST FRIENDS SHOSHANA BEAN AND EDEN ESPINOSA," and then ollied out sustaining an E6.

it's possible i'm not giving enough credit to Kendra Kassebaum here, since she started on the First National Tour before Hilty graduated to principal, but i don't think it's possible to oversell the impact this had on Glinda portrayals going forward. it doesn't just come down to making the audience like her faster, either; Hilty's Glinda was the first to invite the other characters into her world. it was with Hilty that Elphabas started actively participating in Popular, and it was with Hilty that the argument with Fiyero in Thank Goodness started feeling like an actual ARGUMENT between two people who care what the other thinks. while the development of post-Idina Elphabas felt like a gradual refinement--taking what was already present and tailoring to each actress' unique relationship with her role--Glinda's development post-Cheno took the form of a seismic shift away from pre-existing material. Idina had left room for multiple Elphabas, and now there was also room for multiple Glindas.

so the timing was perfect, really, for the next stage of Wicked's life.

[konako]

rant about Thunderbolts*. full spoilers

Huh. This is new for me.

I guess I need a place to process what I'm feeling. So. Yeah. Don't feel like you have to read it, or anything. I just need to write it down... somewhere other than the walls of my skull.

For me, the whole experience around Thunderbolts* was a disheartening lesson on Expectations.

An ice cold bucket of apathetic reality, washing over some rare, youthful of excitement. Rare, at least for me. Which hurts more.

What Is, over What Could Be.

It's funny. You'd think, after years of OUAT, I would learn to measure my expectations and accept when something is not going in the direction of what would be best for a character, but, instead, best for a brand.

I think that was ultimately Taskmaster's fate.

I had this idiotic hope that they would make something of her.

That her tragic story, as revealed in Black Widow, would only be the start of an interesting (perhaps inspiring — but there goes idiotic hope again) character journey, across the grey spectrum of morality she was forced into. I had hopes they would give her voice, personality, traits, goals, dreams, struggles. I had hopes they would make her into an actual character.

Hopes killed as swiftly as her. Put down like a dog.

She was a punch line. She was fodder for Yelena's misery. She was Natasha's wasted effort. She was, in all senses, wasted. Thrown away. Trash.

I was... disheartened. For her, for what it meant to her story, for what it meant to the actress employed for that role (I'm sorry, Olga...), for what it meant artistically. For what it signaled to the audience, for what motivated it, for what it did to the integrity of this work and others...

And all that, in service to what? What did the narrative gain with it, that couldn't be achieved with other means? How did it help the emotional conflict explored in Black Widow? How did it help the theme of "disposable bastards seeking meaning to fill the void" — if she didn't get the chance of even express a single emotion, a single trait? How was she part of the theme (and the team), if she didn't get a chance, period?

I'm a hopeful idiot.

Even after that scene, I was expecting her to return, in some way. A twist, a plan, a secret. To prove them wrong, to join the team, to rise above the odds, to crawl her own way out of that hole this time, to fight for herself and her new chance at life. Instead, the credits rolled.

I don't want to think this was done to appease some man-babies, whining about "the real Tony Masters", and WOKE MARVEL, and "Deadpool 1.0 all over again".

I want to think people could appreciate a new take at a character and give it time and space to grow on them, instead of wanting them discarded and restarted to their tastes, immediately.

I want to think the larger audience influencing the studio's decisions isn't made up of impatient, immature, entitled children, that can't empathize with an incarnation of a character, because it was not taken straight from the page, exactly as they wanted it, when they wanted it.

I want to think people were smart enough to recognize that Taskmaster's appearance in Black Widow was not her proper introduction, but her origin story. Her birth, not her final form. And that her real character would develop over time, given proper space and freedom. That's what I want to think.

But then, I have idiotic hopes. Hoping that a brand wouldn't sacrifice a genuinely tragic, potentially great character to quiet the childish anger of a portion of the fandom. Hoping that a writer would recognize that such a character has incredible room to grow, and, given the chance and space in the narrative, would blossom into a powerful person, and a poignant statement about abuse and agency.

I guess I had hoped that a movie about trauma, loneliness, darkness and self-loathing would give its characters the time to explore it individually; then, as a group; until, finally, the resulting enlightenment of those searches, when united, would save the day —with the power of friendship! And I guess I hoped wrong there, too.

I find comfort in that, though: The movie wouldn't have delivered on a respectful Taskmaster's arc, even if she had been spared the dehumanizing treatment.

Taskmasters was let down first, not last. She was not the only one under-utilized. All of them, with the exception of Yelena, Bob and Bucky (who has had his time to evolve and explore his own conflicts in other appearances), were wasted and denied their introspective moments, despite the chance the bigger narrative presented for that structure. One could argue that Alexei had more room to recognize his demons and assist Yelena in fighting hers, but even then, that was in service to her story, not his. He wasn't a character, he was a tool. Most of them were.

I guess I had hoped that an ensemble movie wouldn't have a single protagonist to exclude the other's narratives. I guess I had hoped their individual storylines would be woven together to tell a single story about overcoming one's inner darkness. I guess we didn't have that, either.

For that, too, I'm disappointed. Even for those who lived.

The rumors that helped my hopes fester in the first place tell tales of a better movie. One where Taskmaster and Ava have a friendship; where Taskmaster has an arc; where Ava explores her meaningful relationships; where the other characters matter just as much as Yelena and Bob.

Instead, the movie we have is a vehicle to a single character's emotional challenge (don't get me wrong, I love Yelena, and this was great for her, yay), and a platform to present yet another promise of something that might not meet its potential, eventually sacrificed for the sake of the spectacle.

I just...

The movie is good. The movie is nice. As a solo adventure for Yelena, as an introduction to Bob/Sentry/The Void. The editing is perfect, the score is moving, the banter is entertaining, the villain is amusing, the special effects are good, the fighting choreography is electric. It's an MCU movie.

I guess I'm just tired of surface level stories. I guess I was looking in the wrong place for introspective journeys. My mistake, my expectation, my silliness. I guess MCU's next big try at the Avengers' high wasn't the place to find a more toned down look into trauma, regret, grief and loneliness. I guess a TV Show would have been a better mean for that message, as the MCU's catalog is proving to be. I guess, whatever idiotic thing I had hoped for Taskmaster would never happen here. Not even if she had survived the first 10 minutes.

I'm just... disappointed, that's all. I was excited for something. Now I'm not. Adulthood, amiright? [fart noise]

Can I say this has killed my hopes? Some of it. The rest of it is resilient.

And I still hope for Taskmaster's fate not to be permanent. I'm still hoping for a twist. Still hoping for a better treatment. But, this time, I won't hope too hard.

[jessaerys]

you know despite my cornerstone love for horror i've always been very protective of my instinct to look away from irl gore online, instinctively putting value in not becoming "desensitized" the way people my age who let themselves follow their morbid curiosity into web 1.0 watch-people-die type websites did, back in the day. and to a certain degree i still hold that ability to be shocked dear, maybe as one of the very few innocences that wasn't taken from me. that it was in my power to preserve. as i've grown older though, and as i've becomes fascinated with the demystification of death, i wish my knee jerk reaction wasn't still so animal and visceral. it wasn't in the update when i became aware of the western alienation from the ugliness of the body and its fluids, from the normalization of nudity to the realities of meat eating to the rituals around our dead, or when the process of decomposition and the cycles of life became something deeply spiritual to me. when i was a kid i accidentally picked up a dead pet turtle thinking it alive and felt a kind of upset that has defined my emotional landscape when it comes to dead bodies. the only loved one i've lost to death is my grandfather, and as i'm estranged from my family (lost, but to life) and stuck in this country without papers i wasn't able to be there. i'm 30 and i've never been to a funeral. i fantasize about the deeply alive, life-affirming experience of being in contact with human corpses (in sky burials, in body farms, in morgues, as a mortician). about eating meat only if i've been there for the process of killing and dressing the alive thing it came from. i think, as i write this, that might all be naive romanticization. in reality, i can't even bring myself to buy dead, frozen mice and chicks for my cat.

i think of that quote by toni morrison; "i insist on being shocked. i am never going to become immune. i think that's a kind of failure to see so much of it that you die inside. i want to be surprised and shocked every time." i don't know that i have it in me to not die inside, so i protect the shock. i don't think that's what morrison meant. i think i still fall of the side of failure. it's something that i've thought a lot about this past year as we've been asked to witness the horrible, unimaginable violence of genocide in the age of social media, which turns now that moral value on its head; when maybe to some looking becomes aligned with the principle of human life. i don't know. genocide victims are not a monolith. people have debated the material worth of witnessing; but i can't do it, and what a useless virtue it is, i think, to witness humans being torn apart in and off itself. self-congratulatory voyeurism. i can't do it. i've come to the conclusion that it doesn't matter as long as i am putting my efforts of support in areas with material outcomes. still. i'm beginning to suspect, nowadays, that being shielded from the ugly, bloated, rotting reeking realities of death is a privilege. and perhaps that is a weakness rather than a virtue or a strength.

[hollow-dweller]

Talk Shop Tuesday: is there a character you understand better than anyone else doss but haven’t written as much/at all?

as the Universe's Only Howard Stark Enjoyer, i am obligated to answer this with him.

Howard is so interesting to me, because the way he's constructed as a character is so clearly a reflection and response to Tony that narratively, you don't really get the sense that he was the progenitor, between the two of them. in the Iron Man movies, he is constructed as a foil for Tony: severe, business-like, and formal. he is unreachable, in a sense, a reflection of the ways Tony feels isolated from him: through death, through the tarnishing of his legacy that has been orchestrated by Obadiah but in which Tony is complicit, and through Tony's reckoning with and questioning of the value of that legacy in the first place. the Howard we see in those movies is heavily filtered through the lens of Tony's perception: the man who he feels completely isolated from and overshadowed by, who he at once venerates and dislikes, and yet who reaches through time, grudges and enemies carrying forward even as he leaves Tony with the tools to save his own life.

contrast that with the Howard we meet in Captain America: a playboy and genius, a little goofy, a lot self-important, written the way he is to create a clear connection in the mind of the audience between him and pre-Iron Man Tony Stark. it's narrative shorthand, characterization designed to help us bridge the gap between the Tony that we know and the Howard that we're meeting. but outside the meta-textual explanation, we also have to reconcile the Howard as we see him in Captain America, the Howard as we see him (heavily filtered through Tony's perspective) in the Iron Man movies, and Tony himself. in-universe, how do we explain the fact that Tony clearly remembers his father as austere and cold, but has emulated his devil-may-care behaviours and attitudes? if that is not the Howard that Tony remembers, why is that the Howard he mimics?

there are a number of potential explanations: maybe Tony met and knew the playboy Howard in his youth, but is obfuscating that in his own memory, either as a way to preserve his ideal of his father (cold, yes, but also powerful), or as a way to deny their similarities, or maybe simply as a way to honour his mother and pretend that that Howard never existed while he was with Maria. or maybe Tony never did meet that version of Howard, and it's a matter of inverted reflections: Howard moves so far in the opposite direction of who he was in his youth that when Tony constructs a rebellious identity in opposition to his father, he unknowingly mimics the behaviour of his father as he once was.

ideally, Agent Carter would have provided us the bridge between these versions of Howard, had it not been cancelled. we'll never know for sure, and while his character develops in fascinating ways in that show, he never quite escapes the shadow of Tony Stark 1.0. the part that really sticks with me, and has left me with the brain worms that inspired this sermon, is his role in season 1 in particular: his ruthlessness and manipulation in using Peggy, but also his genuine grief and desire for redemption as inspired by Steve. how he views Steve, Captain America, as the one truly Good thing he's ever done at that point, and how it connects to what we are told later, about his obsessive search for Steve and the way that isolated him from his own son. how that too is connected to what he says in Iron Man 2: that Tony is his greatest creation. the inherent selfishness but also deeply felt love evident in both those statements: love for Steve as a reflection of his desire for redemption, love for Tony as his assurance that he had in some way achieved it.

all told, you're left with a fascinating character built entirely from patchwork: imperfect and self-centered and yet idealistic, for whom we are missing key parts of the story from which to create a complete picture. in some ways i am not surprised that fandom often flattens both Howard and Tony's relationship to him, because we are missing essential elements to really conceive of Howard as a complete character. but it is also frustrating to me, because in those gaps i see opportunity: to explore Howard, yes, but also Tony, and their relationship to one another, and to the Stark legacy that permeates the world of the MCU.

having said ALL of that: do i see myself ever writing that story, or filling in those blanks myself? i honestly have no idea. i don't know how that story would be constructed, or what it would really entail. maybe if i ever get around to writing the Morgan Stark Fic, i'll slide some of this in there. but while i never say never, i'm also really not sure there's a dedicated Howard Stark Fic in me. i suppose we'll see.

[itzsephig5]

Intro - Age of Ultron (B Me)

The current youngest member of the Avengers joined the team after the battle of New York. The teenage girl was a S.H.I.E.L.D agent with telekinesis and pyrokinesis. Not knowing much about the girl, thanks to Fury, the Avengers accept all the help they can get... especially when Tony creates a murderous AI who is trying to wipe the existence of the Avengers. When secrets start to get unraveled while they start to hunt this AI down? Who really is this girl that they are working with? Who are the twins that just showed up? And what happens next?

My Masterlist

This story on Wattpad

1.0 1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 1.6 1.7 1.8 1.9 1.10 1.11 1.12 Intro - Civil War 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.3.5 2.4 2.5 2.6 2.7 2.8 Intro - B Me 3.0 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 3.6 3.7 3.8 3.9 3.10 3.11 3.12 Updated Character Info 3.13 3.14 3.15 3.16 3.17 3.18 3.19 3.20 Final Character Info

Song Recommendation:

When does this story take place:

2015

Main Characters (who the story is about):

Name: Y/n Barton (Y/n L/n, Fire Witch)

Age: 16

Birthday: May 10th

Family: Clint Barton (dad), Laura Barton (mom), Cooper Barton (younger brother), Lila Barton (younger sister)

Job: Avenger (Ex-SHIELD agent)

Powers: Telekinesis, Energy Manipulation and Pyrokinesis

Name: Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

Age: 16

Birthday: February 10th

Family: Pietro Maximoff (twin brother)

Job: Hydra Volunteer 

Powers: Telekinesis, Energy Manipulation, Neuroelectric Interfacing 

Main Characters (but with a bit less of the story about them):

Name: Bruce Banner (The Hulk)

Age: 46

Birthday: December 18th

Family: N/A

Job: Avenger

Other Info: Can turn into the Hulk

Name: Steve Rogers (Captain America)

Age: 97

Birthday: July 4th

Family: N/A

Job: Avenger

Other Info: Has super solider serum, fights with a shield

Name: Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

Age: 44

Birthday: June 18th

Family: Laura Barton (wife), Y/n Barton (daughter), Cooper Barton (son), Lila Barton (daughter)

Job: Avenger (Ex-SHIELD agent)

Other Info: Fights with a bow and arrow

Name: Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)

Age: 31

Birthday: December 3rd

Family: N/A

Job: Avenger (Ex-Shield agent, Ex-Red Room Widow)

Other Info: Fights mostly with guns and widow bites

Name: Tony Stark (Iron Man)

Age: 44

Birthday: May 29th

Family: N/A

Job: Avenger

Other Info: Wears an Iron Man suit to fly around and fight

Name: Thor Odinson (Thor)

Age: 1,497

Birthday: N/A

Family: Odin (father), Frigga (mother), Loki (brother)

Job: Avenger (Prince of Asgard)

God of: Thunder

Name: Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

Age: 16

Birthday: February 10th

Family: Wanda Maximoff (twin sister)

Job: Hydra Volunteer 

Powers: Super Speed

Name: Ultron

Age: N/A

Family: N/A

Job: N/A

Other Info: Ultron is AI

Side Characters:

Name: Maria Hill (Deputy Director Hill)

Age: 33 

Birthday: April 4th

Family: N/A

Job: Works at Stark Industries (Ex-SHIELD Agent)

Other Info: N/A

Name: Nick Fury (Fury)

Age: 63

Birthday: December 21st

Family: N/A

Job: Former director of SHIELD

Other Info: N/A

Name: Laura Barton

Age: 42

Birthday: N/A

Family: Clint Barton (husband), Y/n Barton (daughter), Cooper Barton (son), Lila Barton (daughter)

Job: N/A

Other Info: Lives in a farmhouse in Iowa with Cooper and Lila

Name: Cooper Barton

Age: 11

Birthday: May 18th

Family: Clint Barton (father), Laura Barton (mother), Y/n Barton (sister), Lila Barton (sister)

Name: Lila Barton

Age: 9

Birthday: N/A

Family: Clint Barton (father), Laura Barton (mother), Y/n Barton (sister), Cooper Barton (brother)

Warnings:

- Mature Content

- Swearing

- Violence

Notes:

I do NOT own any of the Marvel characters that may show up in this story. The only this I own is the story plot outside what is in the movies. Reach out to me if you would like to do a translation of my story. If there is anything that I write matches up with another story, please note that it is purely accidental and if you can nicely point it out, I will be glad to change it! I am ONLY taking constructive criticism! I will not take any other forms of criticism. Also, I am not completely sure about ages and birthdays, I used Google to try to help me figure it out, so it might not be accurate, but for the sake of this story, I'm just going to say that these are their ages

Overall Announcements:

- If you don't like how I write my stories or portray a character, then don't read my stories, simple as that

- I am ONLY taking constructive criticism! I will not take any other forms of criticism

- Just because you think something is cringy or weird doesn't mean everyone else does

- If you have any questions about my stories, please reach out to my Instagram (itzsephig5), I have no problem discussing any questions you might have and I'm always up to discuss any new ideas you all have for my stories as well

- PLEASE NOTE THAT I AM AN ADULT! I WRITE SOME THINGS THAT MIGHT NOT BE SUTIBLE FOR ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 15!! I was one of those people who thought at that age that if I read it, I would be fine. I know how you think

- I will not be putting warnings on each individual chapter as they are listed here in the intro. If any of these warnings trigger you, please exit the story and find a different one to read

- THIS STORY IS FICTIONAL! NOT EVERYTHING IS ACCURATE TO REAL LIFE! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE COMMENTS LIKE "This is not how this is in the movies" OR "This is not how it is in *insert thing here*" 

- I will not be going 100% on script for how the movies went. Some scenes might not happen, some people who have died might stay alive in this story and vice versa

[poepoe-thebunny]

Updated Master list 1.0

Alright everyone, here is my first master list with links to most of my AO3 fics and Tumblr Headcanons! I actually did this all on mobile since I don't have access to my laptop, so it might look a little wonky! But it works! I hope you all like it at least, thanks for reading!

X-Men Masterlist:

Scott/Logan:

The Little Vampire Masterlist:

Rudy/Tony:

Jaime Eyes/Bart Allen:

Supersons/Damian Wayne:

Cells At Work Masterlist:

U11446/Ae3803:

[kalinara]

I still can't quite get over the very first meet up (or fight, if you will) between the Avengers and the X-Men.

So, for some context, Professor Xavier is currently in a mostly mental battle with his old enemy, Lucifer. (An alien, not the devil.) And there's some bullshit going on where if something disrupts Lucifer's heartbeat, it will endanger the world.

Fine, okay. Perfectly good reason to not want the Avengers coming in to deal with this evil presence that they're sensing.

But how does Xavier decide to deal with this?

He sends his secret army of children out to fight them. And while the Original Five's ages tend to fluctuate pretty wildly during the old issues, one thing is clear. They are very explicitly teenagers. And Tony Stark says as much.

And the thing is, the Avengers aren't even unfriendly here. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to blame the Avengers for more recent conflicts, but this one is not their fault.

"Let's join forces!" Cap says, and given that they are, generally, pretty reasonable people and not mindless berserkers, it seems like it would be a good time to let them know what the real problem is.

The kids are right there. Xavier could tell Scott or Jean to fill them in. Or, if Xavier has his doubts about the kids' ability to understand or communicate the problem, he could just telepathically contact the Avengers, right? He's clearly capable of telepathy at the moment.

And it's not like he doesn't telepathically contact them later. After about three pages of Avengers vs. X-Men 1.0, we get:

Now okay, I will, reluctantly, be fair to Xavier. The next panel indicates that he can NOW explain the situation to Thor because he's temporarily knocked Lucifer down.

I don't know how long it would take to telepathically explain a situation in full. But I feel like he could have very quickly sent a message like "WAIT, YOU WILL KILL US ALL" in the same time he took to send literal children to fight these very powerful, world-recognized superheroes.

OR, failing that, rather than say "go fight the Avengers", he could have sent the message: "Explain to them what I just told you, in that top panel right there."

So anyway, after that, the Avengers just...leave. And Xavier never really brings it up again. And okay, there's still a bomb to deal with, but you'd think the fact that the teenagers successfully held off the world's greatest superheroes would be a somewhat relevant conversation topic?

Nah, but we do have time to preach at a supervillain and not explain anything to the kids.

And there's something really kind of sad that not a single one of these teenagers even asks. Because they know he won't tell them anything.

Xavier is The Worst.

(Uncanny X-Men #9)

[jaks-art]

This one as per usual was just me messing around. I like that old 1950’s greaser style a bit too much.

Just wanted an excuse to draw the duck tbh and this was the result.

[sleepythug]

Fav films from 2007

I pray we get a year as deep as this again

syndromes and a century (apichatpong weerasethakul)

zodiac (david fincher)

there will be blood (paul thomas anderson)

the host (bong joon-ho)

4 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days (cristian mungiu)

no country for old men (joel coen, ethan coen)

black and white trypps number 3 (ben russell)

silent light (carlos reygadas)

death proof (quentin tarantino)

eastern promises (david cronenberg)

superbad (greg mottola)

light is waiting (michael robinson)

michael clayton (tony gilroy)

tundra (carlos casas)

the assassination of jesse james (andrew dominik)

I don't want to sleep alone (tsai ming-liang)

we own the night (james gray)

hot fuzz (edgar wright)

at sea (peter b. hutton)

evangelion 1.0 you are (not) alone (hideaki anno)

[thena0315]

How Would You Rewrite SVU25?

With an unlimited budget, but still has to be 13 episodes

Bring back Detective Amanda Rollins(-Carisi) full time

Rollins considers taking the Sergeant's exam

Confirmation that Carisi officially adopted Jesse & Billie

Have the Carisi & Rollins families attend Nicky's baptism

Give Nicky a new name that isn't Dominick "Nicky" Carisi III

Have the Rollisi family move into a house

Explain what happened to Tonie Churlish and why she left the squad

Change layout of the squad room

Have better cases/plot

More courtroom scenes

Henry Mesner returns again

Calvin Arliss returns

Maria appears in more than one episode

Familiar old defense lawyers return (i.e. Calhoun, Buchanan Miranda Pond, etc.)

A Carisi gets kidnapped case

Have another Part 2/Part 3 to a few old cases during 1.0 & 2.0 eras

Noah has more half siblings out there, we all know it, given his paternal background. And one of them is in a group home and Liv considers adopting them cause Noah wants another sibling

Crossover with Law & Order and Organized Crime

Crossover with One Chicago

Crossover with FBI (it's possible, Upton was on the show)

More character development/background/plot on other characters aside just Liv

Guest appearances: Stabler, Cragen, Jack McCoy, Warner, Huang, Cassidy, Cabot, Novak, Greylek, Barba, Amaro, Kat, Muncy, Stone, Phoebe, Jefferies, Donnelly, Morales and Danielson

As annoying the Maddie arc was, if they had brought back old characters to help assist them then maybe it would have been better

EO meet up and talk in person and between their cases and episodes

An old SVU old case that Munch worked passionately comes up, leading current and former squad members determine to solve it. At the end they recall memories working along side him.

HAVE BETTER LIGHTING!!!!!!!!!!

[kiki-shortsnout]

People you'd like to get to kno better!

Thank you to @illicien for the tag ❤️

Three ships:  Tony/Stephen/Loki, James Kirk/ Spock, Tony/Stephen

First ship: I think it might have been Kai/Rei from Beyblade many many moons ago… or maybe it was Aragorn/Legolas?🤣

Last song: Snow On The Beach, by Taylor Swift and Lana Del Rey, I’m using it as inspiration for the fic I’m writing at the moment!

Last film: Evangelion 3.0 + 1.0 Thrice Upon A Time…. I’ll be honest, I got a little bit confused at this movie, which is a shame as I love Evangelion!

Currently reading: I’ve literally just finished reading Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone Trilogy, and I’ve just borrowed The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E Schwab. I like to read before bed, so I’m looking forward to starting that tonight!

Currently craving: Cake, chocolate anything with sugar in. I’m doing a challenge this month where I’ve given up sugar for January and it’s so hard! I’ve eaten so much fruit to compensate!😢

Favorite color: Yellow, but I’m quite taken with purple.

Last thing googled: An address in Mexico for work, but before that it was sexy masquerade masks, again for the story I’m writing.

Current obsession: Still FrostIronStrange/ IronStrange, but I’m looking into writing more Kirk/Spock fics after I’ve finished my current long one! I’m also obsessed with collecting pins at the moment!

Tagging @the-elle-kat @thespacecryptid @tales-of-magic-and-chaos @magicaltear @hyuksgirlelf And anyone else that wants to play!

[the-gnoblin]

So I am a light Marvel enjoyer (realistically its because I am a strong Spiderman enjoyer) and I watched all the movies a couple years ago, but before Endgame came out and so I was kinda simmering with the end of Infinity War and so I had a dream of what the next movie should be. I think it's a cooler plot than Endgame so here it is:

The core conceit behind this bad boy is that instead of those who got Thanos'd going to ~vague non-existence places~ they got transported to an alternate version of the universe where Thanos failed in his mission in the sense that the power of the infinity stones was too much so he wiped out all life in that universe. This allows both the people who avoided the snap and those who got snapped to have fun things called "narratives" and "interesting plots" or even "lines" which is pretty neat, I think.

Basically, the dream movie switched between storylines of Tony leading the remaining Earth 1.0 Avengers to... figure out how to get people back (I don't remember what their plot was but I do know that there was one) while the Earth 2.0 (snapped) gang was led by T'Challa to locate the Infinity Stones from that dimension that had scattered when Thanos failed.

It gets hazier after that, but the big "low moment" in the story was that both the Earth 1.0 and Earth 2.0 gangs tried their individual attempts but at different times and those individual attempts were not strong enough to fix the problems. Somehow they figured out that in order for their efforts to succeed, they had to merge the realities together by combining the energies of both sets of Infinity Stones at the same time, in the process destroying the stones. And then I woke up. And then seven years passed and this is what remains in my mind.

Moral of the story? I'm right and I think that would've been a more baller movie

[local-crying-boy]

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ᴄᴏᴅᴇ ɢʀᴇᴇɴ ᴊʀ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

First updated here on Wattpad

0.1 ➪ Terror ~ 410

Young Nikolai Banner, who was meant to be listening to his father, wonders about how the Hulk gene may or may not be coursing through his veins and if it will ruin his life and become his downfall.

1.0 ➪Exhaustion ~ 2.3k

One late night, Nikolai, who wasn't meant to be awake, hears the rapid knocking on the door from none other than billionaire superhero, Tony Stark, which leads to a hasty conversation between the man of metal and Nikolai's father.

2.0 ➪ Confusion (NOT PUBLISHED)

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Future chapters undecided

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