thunderer.

MEME.— @xstormclad

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean," Thor replied innocently, though the growl in his voice and the calm smirk on his face were anything but innocent. His smile only increased with Iðunn's blush. "A law? What's to stop me from rewriting it?" He winked, then mimed writing a law: "no half-naked gods unless they're Thor and he's really, really enjoying his job of distracting the beautiful Lady Iðunn."

He met her step, closing the distance between them, practically pressing his body up against hers. He tilted his head, looking down at her imperiously yet playfully. "Hm. Well, I'm beginning to get some idea..." He rested a strong yet gentle hand on her waist, then wrapped the other arm to the small of her back, pulling her in smoothly, closer still. "I wouldn't mind performing a more thorough examination, though..." His heart was pounding; his smile was fixed; his lips almost brushed hers as he spoke. "Unless, of course, you truly have some problem with me being like this. I'd hate to make you... uncomfortable." He grinned, reaching up with one hand to stroke her hair back from her face.

The battle had been a complete blur, Wanda was sure she wasn’t alone in believing that. The jarring experience of reappearing coupled with the sudden call to arms had left her with little time to adjust to her new reality. It was five years in the future, she had missed five years of her life. That thought alone had filled her with enough anger and bitterness to take on Thanos, enough courage to see the battle through. After all, there was someone she needed to live through to see again. 

After the fighting was done, there had been efforts to do a roll call, to get food and water for everyone and medical attention for those who needed it. Wanda looked around frantically, trying to locate her husband amongst the crowds of weary fighters. She’d seen him fighting during the battle but they had both been too distracted to call his attention. Wanda hadn’t come back from the dead to lose anyone now. 

     Perhaps in another life, one where he hadn’t found a wife, where he hadn’t lost a daughter before even meeting her, he would have been happier. He would have been able to eat and drink and grow fat in his misery. But in this life, he couldn’t. He had to keep moving, or else the memory of his wife, and the knowledge of the child he would never meet, weighed too heavily for Thor to bear.

     Then he got the chance to fix it all. A real chance. And before he knew it, he was swept up with the Avengers again, just like old times, but they were saving more than just one world. They were saving the universe. And to Thor, the universe was condensed down into one person: Wanda. When he saw the flare of her powers on the battlefield, his heart leapt, and he forced his way through a horde of Outriders just to catch a glimpse of the Scarlet Witch, glorious and fearsome as the dawn, as she pummeled Thanos with her rage and her will.

     And when all was said and done and the roar of battle had died, Thor was as eager to return to his wife as she was to return to him. He turned when he heard her voice, tossed aside the rubble he had been lifting, and barely had time to say her name before she was in his arms and he was clinging to her as if he would never let go.

                           Compromise where you can. Where you can’t, don’t.                 Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right.                                Even if the whole world is telling you to move.                                         It is your duty to plant yourself like a tree,                                                look them in the eye, and say:

     Thor, or Donnie Blake (according to the dog tags he still wore) had been slumped in an armchair, half-dozing, when he heard the knock on his door. He jerked upright, bloodshot eyes darting around. He had been dreaming of the war again, of forests and mud and blood and sin. For a moment he thought he had dreamed the sound, like a dull echo of the gunshots that couldn’t even pierce his skin. Then the knocks came again.