regimes fall everyday

hey y’all. so, it’s been awhile and the world is on fire. i’ve been putting off doing this because i love natasha so much. she’s honestly one of my most favorite comic book heroes and i just...man. i’ve still been writing nat, but primarily on discord.  i want to return to writing her, but i don’t think i can do it on here. so, it’s not all bad news! 

i’m going to be moving both gamora and natasha to my multimuse blog. they’ll probably be front and center on my muse page--but this way i can stay organized and i don’t have to hop from blog to blog. i’m hoping this move will encourage me to write more! so please, go ahead and follow my multimuse @steelhecrt​ ! both natasha and gamora will be moved over there. my new muse, pamela isley/poison ivy has her own blog @ncturewins​.

i love all y’all and i’m so amazed by how much love y’all have.

“yeah, probably.” she doesn’t really know how to explain it, that natasha is her mother, at least back home—wherever that is from here.

peggy lets out a little sigh of relief when nat lowers the gun, not that it means she’s totally safe. her mother is just as dangerous without a gun as she is with one and peggy knows she wouldn’t that fight.

“honestly? i don’t really know. all i know is that i don’t think i’m from around here.”

the fight with doom hadn’t been going well, but peggy didn’t think it was going bad enough to launch her into a new world. 

The girl was cryptic and Natasha isn’t sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. She arches a brow crisply and tilts her head in regard.

Still, there’s a small twinge in her gut that told her that she didn’t want to hurt the girl. Regardless of the armor she wore. Regardless of the impromptu entrance. Something was wrong for the girl and she wanted to help. 

it doesn’t take peggy long to reorient herself after, well, whatever the hell just happened. her eyes lock on the only other person in the room and anything she might said is cut off by the gun pointed her way.

as she raises her hands level with her shoulders, a silent show of peace, peggy wishes she was wearing anything other than her armor. her mother clearly doesn’t recognize her and civilian clothes would have looked less threatening.

“i’m peggy,” she says with a small smile, “do you really not recognize me?”

peggy isn’t sure what happened, but wherever or whenever she is, it’s clearly not where she’s from.

“Should I?” Natasha replies, arching a brow crisply. Reasonably, this could be anything. Time rifts, Loki, Thanos, inconsistencies within their universe as a result of the Infinity Stones. Regardless, she’s the only one there and she’s not prepared to die.

Again.

The person before her is just a CHILD in her mind. Young. Strangely dressed--but she can’t foresee her being too much of a threat. 

{✗} Natasha lifts her gaze from her book, setting her tea-mug down beside her. “The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoevsky,” she answers, regarding the girl with a gentle gaze. 

“And what are you doing here, little Thor?” She quizzes, arching a brow in mild amusement.

{✗} The girl looks familiar. Far more familiar than she should. Natasha squints her eyes, tilts her head and examines her--still her gun remains up and aimed. Her index finger rests on the barrel, waiting for an attack. The blasts shook her to her core, rattled the newly rebuilt kitchen in the compound. 

“Who the HELL are you?” She asks, arching a brow. Her tea is pushed to the side, her book tossed carelessly on the floor. Her hand had reached for her pistol easily enough.

And she thought she was DONE with her fair share of the bizarre when she came back from the soul realm.