#widowblck

Carol had been away for some time in space helping countless people on countless planets, the snap had created all kinds of chaos not just on earth but all over the galaxy. She had done what Natasha said and kept in touch with her closely hoping to hear something about Thanos from them and hoping to be able to go after the mad man and make him pay for what he did. Though the more she talked with Natasha the more she became more smitten with the redhead. 

She was tired and needed a break from all of the fighting and work she had done, she came back to earth for some R & R and maybe some time to get to know the super spy. She landed in front of the avenger compound and entered and found Natasha in her study, “Hey you, how are you holding up?” she asked Natasha gently hoping that she would have some manner of good news here on earth, if nothing about Thanos then some good news about coping with life after the snap. 

It had been a week ever Bucky felt that relief inside him. The pressure, that lasted so much on his shoulders was gone. Yes, he felt like he could finally breath again. And it felt so nice. Bucky knew there was a war to come. He could feel it and the way, everyone was acting around him made him sure of it. But for now, he tried to focus on the good. On the feeling that was running through him. No hate, no anger, no madness anymore. He never thought he could get properly healed.

          “depending on your preferences, i’m about to either be your FAVOURITE person in the world right now-- or ya gonna roll your fuckin’ eyes at me. but--” pausing, bucky wiggles his eyebrows, just to add to the slight ridiculousness of his mood, before bringing both hands around from behind his back, to reveal the iconic to-go cups, “it’s pumpkin spice time, nat!”

Ever since the accident and MJ developing powers - annoying powers - she was around either the New York Sanctum or upstate at the compound to train and get control of things and to study. Until she had everything under control there was no way for her to attend school just yet, but Peter kept her updated.

MJ was currently walking through the common area, gently levitating her book before her - that was something she mastered first. She was actually looking for Natasha Romanoff.

❤ + me oop

send ‘❤’ + a url & i’ll write positivity / what i think about them.

               Tapping his pen upon the table, Malachy looked idly out the window of his small house. Words failed him these days, his previous love for poetry clouded by years of emotional isolation. Could he write of anything other than war? Than death? And if he did, would his poems be linked back to him? Too many people were after him, publishing anything significant would be dangerous. He's already fled to a barely populated area, anxious of the eyes that followed him in the bigger cities.

               It was almost Christmas, 1949. One he wouldn't celebrate. A thin layer of snow coated the ground outside, a bitter reminder of the coldness in his soul. Pen scribbled idly on his paper, random words, nothing coherent. Nothing important. A twig cracked outside his door and his head snapped up, hand shooting out to grasp the dagger he kept on his thigh. On edge, always on edge.

               Only a few moments after the twig snapped, there was a knock on the door. Knuckles turned white as he gripped the dagger harder, breathing sharp through his nose. It was probably one of the townspeople, a few would come by from time to time with good intentions. Fresh picked vegetables, poultry, like he was some threat they must appease for their own safety. That's how he took it, anyways. 

                    ❝   are you saying you have a better idea?   ❞

     She ordered wine this time, the last it had been a beer, the time before that, shots of whiskey. Her hair was long and blonde, and she spoke with a strong southern accent. Texan maybe? John had always been terrible when it came to identifying regional accents Stateside. Usually she approached him and chatted him up at the bar. This time, she wanted to take a table in the back. John was perfectly willing to acquiesce, but not for the obvious reason. Rather he was curious over this choice and how this would further develop the nature of their duplicitous interactions. A bit of chit, chat, the usual bullshit, but a lull in the conversation gave him the opportunity to turn the tide. Perhaps it was the relative privacy of the booth or maybe his interest had just been so highly piqued that he was incapable of playing this little game of cat and mouse any longer.