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fandomweekly2019-06-17 06:40 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote in fandomweekly2019-06-17 06:40 pm
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[#018] Oh, Do They Think They Could Bury You? (Marvel Cinematic Universe)
Theme Prompt: #018 – Stages of Grief
Title: Oh, Do They Think They Could Bury You?
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 // SPOILERS FOR ENDGAME
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 1000
Summary: When one of their own doesn’t come back, the Avengers try to process it in their own way.
Tony keeps watching the launch pad, waiting for her to come back.
Part of him knows it isn’t possible. Part of him knows that what Clint says is true. It was a soul for a soul. Even though he’s not sure he believes in the power or weight of a soul, he knows that energy needs to be spent in order for other energy to be created. Every rule of physics that he knows indicates as much.
You can’t get something from nothing. Something had to be spent so that something could be gained. He knows that.
He just disagrees with the fact that it had to be her. He keeps waiting for her to come back, sport some kind of charming quip or off-color joke, and then things would be back to normal again, but it never happens.
So he turns and buries himself in his work instead, still hoping, still waiting, and wanting to make sure that her sacrifice, impermanent as it is, doesn’t go to waste.
- - - - -
A punching bag flies off the chain in the middle of the gym, and onto the ground, sand spilling everywhere. On the opposite end of the room, Steve is standing, fist raised almost as though he though pushing the grief into something he could hit harder might combat the pit of despair he can already feel himself threatening to tumble into, and he knows that he can’t do that.
The job isn’t done yet. Thanos isn’t done yet. Thanos has taken everything from him, all of his friends, all of his confidantes. He’s left him with no moor to anchor himself on, and he can’t let that break him even more than he already has.
No matter what happens, he knows he needs to finish the job. Natasha would want him to finish the job. So no matter what, he needs to stay angry.
It wasn’t going to be easy to do, so until then he’s going to need more sand bags to hit.
- - - - - -
Bruce watches as Tony delicately maneuvers each piece of the glove into place, each Infinity Stone onto each finger, doing his best to design something that mimics the infinity gauntlet that Thanos wore. Bruce knows that he’s the only one with the potential durability to wield something that powerful. He remembers the way it debilitated Thanos all those years ago, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take if it means saving their friends.
He also knows how much power will be there, resting in the palm of his hands.
He knows that Barton said it was a sacrifice, that it was a necessary payment for the weapon that they needed, but Bruce is a scientist. He doesn’t need mystical reasoning. He knows that with the snap of his fingers, any wish is his command. He could remake the world in his image in a snap, if he wanted to.
He doesn’t. But he could.
As Tony makes the finishing touches, Bruce prepares to craft the wager in his mind, building the pieces of exactly how he’ll need to phrase the thought of what he wants, no matter how much pain he’s in, no matter how much the stones try and pull his focus.
I’m gonna bring you back, Nat. It’s the determination that’s all he needs, and he’s going to follow through. I’m gonna make this right.
- - - - - -
“Do you know if she believed in anything?”
Scott’s voice is merely an echo as he meanders around where Thor is sitting in the lounge, Rocket across from him, his small furry shoulders collapsed under the weight of it all. The raccoon perks up, curious at the question. “Whadaya mean?”
“Was she Christian? Jewish? I don’t know. I mean, I know there’s no body, but maybe we should give her some kind of ceremony.”
The conversation seems unimportant from where Thor’s standing, though part of him knows it is the most important. Unfortunately, in his haze of grief, it’s just one more loss in an ever growing strand of losses, and he doesn’t know how to draw up the distinct emotion that each one deserves.
“I don’t know, man,” Rocket replies, scrubbing his face with one hand. “She didn’t really talk about that shit, at least not to me.”
The two of them glance to Thor, and it takes him a moment realize that they are looking to him for an answer, for a choice to be made. As though he knew Natasha the best, when he knows that this isn’t a question for him.
Still, he does his best to answer it.
“My people always believed that those who died a warrior’s death would find their rest in the halls of Valhalla.” Usually his response to this would be more boisterous, more proud. Now, it just feels like another person taken too soon. “Natasha may not have died on Asgard, but she was a warrior through in through. She feasts tonight with those celebrated by the bravery of their death.”
The expression of faith still feels hollow, but at least it’s something. Perhaps, by the end of the battle, he’ll actually believe it.
- - - - - -
Clint knows that the right choice wasn’t made on that rock. He also knows that he should have known that no other choice would be made.
He settles back into his life in a post-Thanos world. The Bartons have always been isolated from the rest of the world, so they slip back into their roles almost seamlessly, holding together their life as they knew it, and Clint basks in it, because he knows Nat would accept nothing else.
He listens to his kids laugh, and his wife sing softly under her breath in the kitchen, and he knows that he’s been given an unjust reward against the crimes he’s committed. He’ll never not be grateful for this second chance, the second chance that he gave Natasha all those years ago, being paid back in full.
One day, he’ll get the chance to thank her for that.
Title: Oh, Do They Think They Could Bury You?
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 // SPOILERS FOR ENDGAME
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 1000
Summary: When one of their own doesn’t come back, the Avengers try to process it in their own way.
Tony keeps watching the launch pad, waiting for her to come back.
Part of him knows it isn’t possible. Part of him knows that what Clint says is true. It was a soul for a soul. Even though he’s not sure he believes in the power or weight of a soul, he knows that energy needs to be spent in order for other energy to be created. Every rule of physics that he knows indicates as much.
You can’t get something from nothing. Something had to be spent so that something could be gained. He knows that.
He just disagrees with the fact that it had to be her. He keeps waiting for her to come back, sport some kind of charming quip or off-color joke, and then things would be back to normal again, but it never happens.
So he turns and buries himself in his work instead, still hoping, still waiting, and wanting to make sure that her sacrifice, impermanent as it is, doesn’t go to waste.
A punching bag flies off the chain in the middle of the gym, and onto the ground, sand spilling everywhere. On the opposite end of the room, Steve is standing, fist raised almost as though he though pushing the grief into something he could hit harder might combat the pit of despair he can already feel himself threatening to tumble into, and he knows that he can’t do that.
The job isn’t done yet. Thanos isn’t done yet. Thanos has taken everything from him, all of his friends, all of his confidantes. He’s left him with no moor to anchor himself on, and he can’t let that break him even more than he already has.
No matter what happens, he knows he needs to finish the job. Natasha would want him to finish the job. So no matter what, he needs to stay angry.
It wasn’t going to be easy to do, so until then he’s going to need more sand bags to hit.
Bruce watches as Tony delicately maneuvers each piece of the glove into place, each Infinity Stone onto each finger, doing his best to design something that mimics the infinity gauntlet that Thanos wore. Bruce knows that he’s the only one with the potential durability to wield something that powerful. He remembers the way it debilitated Thanos all those years ago, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take if it means saving their friends.
He also knows how much power will be there, resting in the palm of his hands.
He knows that Barton said it was a sacrifice, that it was a necessary payment for the weapon that they needed, but Bruce is a scientist. He doesn’t need mystical reasoning. He knows that with the snap of his fingers, any wish is his command. He could remake the world in his image in a snap, if he wanted to.
He doesn’t. But he could.
As Tony makes the finishing touches, Bruce prepares to craft the wager in his mind, building the pieces of exactly how he’ll need to phrase the thought of what he wants, no matter how much pain he’s in, no matter how much the stones try and pull his focus.
I’m gonna bring you back, Nat. It’s the determination that’s all he needs, and he’s going to follow through. I’m gonna make this right.
“Do you know if she believed in anything?”
Scott’s voice is merely an echo as he meanders around where Thor is sitting in the lounge, Rocket across from him, his small furry shoulders collapsed under the weight of it all. The raccoon perks up, curious at the question. “Whadaya mean?”
“Was she Christian? Jewish? I don’t know. I mean, I know there’s no body, but maybe we should give her some kind of ceremony.”
The conversation seems unimportant from where Thor’s standing, though part of him knows it is the most important. Unfortunately, in his haze of grief, it’s just one more loss in an ever growing strand of losses, and he doesn’t know how to draw up the distinct emotion that each one deserves.
“I don’t know, man,” Rocket replies, scrubbing his face with one hand. “She didn’t really talk about that shit, at least not to me.”
The two of them glance to Thor, and it takes him a moment realize that they are looking to him for an answer, for a choice to be made. As though he knew Natasha the best, when he knows that this isn’t a question for him.
Still, he does his best to answer it.
“My people always believed that those who died a warrior’s death would find their rest in the halls of Valhalla.” Usually his response to this would be more boisterous, more proud. Now, it just feels like another person taken too soon. “Natasha may not have died on Asgard, but she was a warrior through in through. She feasts tonight with those celebrated by the bravery of their death.”
The expression of faith still feels hollow, but at least it’s something. Perhaps, by the end of the battle, he’ll actually believe it.
Clint knows that the right choice wasn’t made on that rock. He also knows that he should have known that no other choice would be made.
He settles back into his life in a post-Thanos world. The Bartons have always been isolated from the rest of the world, so they slip back into their roles almost seamlessly, holding together their life as they knew it, and Clint basks in it, because he knows Nat would accept nothing else.
He listens to his kids laugh, and his wife sing softly under her breath in the kitchen, and he knows that he’s been given an unjust reward against the crimes he’s committed. He’ll never not be grateful for this second chance, the second chance that he gave Natasha all those years ago, being paid back in full.
One day, he’ll get the chance to thank her for that.
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