#marvel
Tumblr posts tagged #marvel from across Tumblr — no login required.
Scarlet Phoenix What would happen if the Queen of Chaos were hosted by the power and life force of creation? This is the Scarlet Phoenix, the union of pure chaos magic and the raw chaos of creation. Magic, chaos, and cosmic cycles are nothing to her anymore; she is the very chaos of creation, guided by magical chaos. This was just for fun, but honestly, it’s something I really wish would happen. Dozens of characters have already been Phoenix hosts, yet Wanda never got her chance. And before anyone starts typing in the comments: no, they are not opposites! The Phoenix encompasses both chaos and order, origin, creation, and destruction,the Alpha and the Omega. The only beings that serve as a direct counterpoint to the Phoenix are the Tiger God and the entities from the Dark Cold Room, not Wanda. 🙏I hope you enjoy the art, please share 🙏 #marvel #scarletwitch #phoenixforce #marvelfanart #wandamaxximoff
Ley Lines The Artists Who Shaped Magik John Buscema, Ron Frenz, Sal Buscema, and Tom Palmer If Brent Anderson drew the raw machinery of Limbo, the 1983 Magik miniseries dropped a seven-year-old child into the gears. Three different pencilers, John Buscema, Ron Frenz, and Sal Buscema, split the job of drawing Illyana’s descent, but inker Tom Palmer gave all four issues a single, cohesive look. His heavy shadows kept the changing art styles from feeling disconnected, making the whole story feel continuous. From the start, the art makes Limbo feel terrifyingly physical. The demons are not just spooky background atmosphere; they have weight and teeth. The jagged rocks and ruined castle walls have a real gravity to them. The book’s smartest visual trick was filling this heavy world with broken versions of the X-Men. Seeing an ancient Storm or a feral, cat-like Kitty Pryde showed Illyana exactly what Limbo does to people. They do not look magically possessed, they just look permanently weathered by a horrible environment. The miniseries also establishes the stepping disks as the crown jewel of Magik’s visual legacy. In Uncanny X-Men #160 , they were just environmental machinery, looking like random transit platforms built into the bedrock of Limbo. The miniseries reveals a bizarre, peculiarly convenient cosmic coincidence: the disks are actually connected to Illyana’s own mutant power manifesting. By shifting the disks from Limbo’s architecture to her own anatomy, the book created one of the most striking design choices in X-Men history. Decades later, that flat circle remains her definitive calling card, her weapon, and her signature brand. When she finally fights back, the mini-series refuses to give her a clean superhero victory. Pulling the Soulsword lets her stand against Belasco, but in the fight she sprouts his horns, fangs, and tail. Sal Buscema and Palmer make this final fight blunt and ugly, free of any flashy magical effects. Illyana wins, but her body carries the scars. By the end, the art team turned Limbo from a random comic backdrop into Magik’s permanent visual identity. The core of Magik’s visual power lies in this agonizing tug-of-war between the helpless child and the hardening survivor, making her the ultimate comic book symbol of lost innocence. The artists anchor this tragedy expertly in her expressions, shifting from the wide-eyed, frantic terror of a kid waking up to round-the-clock nightmares to quiet, chilling moments where the shadows literally consume her. By capturing her pain with such raw intimacy, this art team permanently baked that stolen childhood into her identity, ensuring that no matter how powerful or demonic she became later, the ghost of that little girl would always be right beneath the surface.
Our Little Dove read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/9yLIi0M by Shifter233 As the daughter of the Black Widow and Scarlet Witch, your life is anything but normal. It had taken Wanda and Natasha months before Wanda became pregnant with you, and now your here and they couldn’t be happier. Words: 1810, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Black Widow (Movie 2021), WandaVision (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/F Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanov (Marvel) Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov & Reader Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Protective Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Protective Wanda Maximoff, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Dirty Thoughts, Dirty Talk, Cuddling & Snuggling read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/9yLIi0M
Eric for the last 20ish books: “Bloodaxe! You gotta drop that thing, using it makes you evil!” Eric, as soon as Bloodaxe does lose the axe: “Welp, don’t mind me, just gonna pick this here thing up…” Also, a random ass Mask reference? For some reason?
Marvel OC: Etheria Lyra Vance She is a mutant with oneirokinesis, a form of telepathy linked to the manipulation of dreams. Etheria doesn’t alter reality in the traditional sense like characters such as Wanda, Jean, or Franklin Richards do; she is able to manipulate human perceptions and thus project their consciousness into a dream world that overlays reality. She was just a character I made to have fun with some Marvel concepts. 🙏I hope you enjoy the art, please share 🙏 #marveloc #originalcharacter #dreamqueen
Our Little Dove by Shifter233 As the daughter of the Black Widow and Scarlet Witch, your life is anything but normal. It had taken Wanda and Natasha months before Wanda became pregnant with you, and now your here and they couldn’t be happier. Words: 1810, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Black Widow (Movie 2021), WandaVision (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/F Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanov (Marvel) Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov & Reader Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Protective Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Protective Wanda Maximoff, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Dirty Thoughts, Dirty Talk, Cuddling & Snuggling via https://ift.tt/9yLIi0M
Open rp- The Father (TW: BLOOD!) Around 2 in the morning Nathan opens the door to the watchtower, and hurries to his room. He’s shaken, shivering and wide eyed, he looks scared, like a dog after getting hit. He’s covered in blood, his hands and chest are crimson, its smeared on his face and in his hair. He slams the door shut and leans against it. His head is tucked between his knees as he starts breathing heavily. I he had gone to find a low level crime boss that had been tormenting the streets of Staten Island recently, what he found, what he did, was never part of his plan. @smarterthantonystark , @your-fav-russian-assassin , @the-winter-soldierr , @katezarrowzz , @justbob-notbobby , @emiliakanebarnes (open tags
I’ll keep you safe, You’ll keep me well Summary : Too scared to confront your feelings, your friend and a confrontation encourage you to face them. A/N : Thank you to my friends who read this and me some pointers. I try to improve my writing, but it’s with your help that I’m progressing! This took a while because I was dealing with life tings. And yes it’s based on that one scene from TASM (you know the one). Also because I think we need more spider readers. I have another part for this in my drafts too so yay or yay? Happy Pride, happy reading ilyyy W/C : 4.850 k Notes : Fluff, light angst and some violence (I mean…). Attempts at humour. Big attempts. You’re going over your project with Gwen in the study room when your phone buzzes with a message. It’s a picture of her, with part of her face visible and a guitar on her lap. The message reads, “Got any song requests for me?” and the way your heart flutters is ridiculous. You don’t understand how she can make your body feel this way. …Or maybe you do. It was stubbornness and care that drove you to her. Your life has not always been as peaceful as you wanted it to be, and for the first time, it is when you are with her. You learned enough about the other, where you were from, what you did in your lives…soon enough, you trusted her with everything, including your identity. It was like a leap of faith, one you would take anytime without a second thought. Thoughts are buzzing in your brain as you scramble for an answer. Song requests. You do remember her mentioning a few of her favourite bands. Maybe you should ask her to play one of their songs? What if it wasn’t an open question and she just wanted to show you a picture of her guitar? Maybe you should make a joke like, “That reminds me, what do you call an Avenger playing a guitar? A guitar hero.” Or just send her a thumbs up and a smiley face. That’s a positive reaction, right? Settling for an easy answer seems to be the best option. Nice guitar. It’s better than nothing. Yet it still feels like nothing. You might as well have just sent the damn thumbs-up and call it a day. Gwen looks up from her book, peering over your shoulder. “What’s got you smitten like that? Don’t tell me it’s our presentation.” “Smitten? I’m not smitten.” You clear your throat. “What part of me says I’m smitten?” “You look like you’re about to burst into a love song. Tell me, who’s the lucky person?” She nudges your shoulder. “It’s…It’s nothing. No one, just a close friend.” “A close friend…Huh. Wait. Is it the same close friend who packs your lunch?” Either she inherited her father’s detective skills, or she was really nosy. Another thing that must run in the Stacy family. “How did you—” “Yeah, no. I don’t know who this mystery friend is, but I have the impression you’ve been under great care.” “It’s not like that,” you grumble, “I can be close friends with someone without it being romantic or whatever.” “I bet you don’t smile at my texts like that.” “You’re right. I just ignore them.” You go back to your notes when she closes your textbook. “Speak.” “Are you aware that this presentation covers half of our grade?” “Deflect all you want. No, really, who is she? I can’t help you if I don’t have a name.” “No chance,” you tut, “She’s just a really close friend. We have a shared playlist, sometimes we have planned sleepovers, and we wear each other’s clothes. It’s not a big deal.” “Wait, all of that? I don’t even have a shared playlist with you!” “And yet you’re still my friend.” “Not the kind of friend you’d want to kiss.” She jeers. “Do you hear the way you talk about her? It’s like you’re bewitched or something. I bet you have the names of your children already.” You drop your head to your hands, “Stop it.” “It’s like a classic textbook romance between a nerd and a cheerleader. I could totally get behind it.” “Okay, okay, enough. Yeah, I’ll…I admit it. She’s special to me. She deserves everything. But I’m not sure if I deserve her.” You mutter the last sentence, but unfortunately for you, Gwen picks up on it. “What makes you say that?” Because having you in her life would be dangerous, and you would hate yourself if anything were to happen to her. That’s something you would never forgive yourself for. “…I just do.” She pats your hand, smiling sadly, “We can’t always be so sure of things. As much as it’s downright frightening to face the awful thing that is called feelings, we still have to come to terms with them.” “You’ve been getting wise as of late.” “I took a philosophy class as extra credit, and my mother’s been tagging me along in this therapy group. So you should trust me on this one. Don’t wait for a disaster to happen for you to speak.” “Whoa. That was very specific and ominous. Are you threatening me with a bet or, what, some kind of challenge? My budget is kind of tight at the moment.” “I’m being serious. If the world were under a crisis right now, would that be the only reason you’d tell her how you feel?” “I don’t know if you follow the news, but we’re already going through a world crisis. I can still manage to keep my silence streak.” She fixes you with a glare, silently asking you to be serious. You sigh, “Maybe–Maybe I’ll try to be honest with her? I don’t know. I’m not really good at this stuff…It’s terrifying.” “Relationships are scary. And I never met her, but I see the way your face lights up whenever you talk about her. I may or may not have also read the notes she leaves in your lunchbox.” “I’m going to have to set boundaries with you.” She glosses over your comment, “It’s a rare, vulnerable kind of love. I understand why you don’t want to lose it. I can’t push you to do anything but…Just remember. You have to be honest with yourself. And her, eventually. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. You’ll just leave it at that and move on. Like normal adults.” You’re stumped. Your brain tries to think of a reason why you should do the exact opposite of what she’s saying. On the other hand, it’s not like she was entirely wrong. You can’t lose yourself to cowardice. You wince as your phone buzzes with another text. This is getting ridiculous. You deal with people twice your size, but all it takes is one message for you to forget how to behave like a proper human being. “I’ll think about it.” “Don’t wait too long.” “And please don’t go through my stuff again.” “If it weren’t for me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Just invite me to the wedding. And the baby shower.” She smiles brightly. “Let’s not go that far,” you grimace, “I haven’t even—” Suddenly, the floor trembles. Windows begin to crack, pencils roll off the counter. The weather didn’t mention anything about an earthquake…Unless this is the Avengers hard at work. A primal roar then emerges. Murmurs and gasps erupt. You turn to Gwen, confusion and fright written all over her face. Did she somehow manage to manifest a disaster in the universe? Without thinking, you run to the door. What you see stops your breath short. It’s a tall, green creature, mindlessly running after anything it—or he sees. He’s not as giant as the Hulk, but this was still otherworldly. Great. You can add him to the list of things you’ve encountered, next to criminals in pink flamingo suits. She grabs your arm and pushes you under the table. “We have to get down!” It’s pure chaos. The people huddling with you are either crying, hiding, filming the disastrous scene or calling their loved ones. This campus is about to turn into a dinosaur playground unless you do something. You keep a focused eye on the door, “Stay here.” “What are you…Don’t tell me you’re going outside, are you insane—” “I’ll call for help. Stay with the others, try to let people in with you if you can and barricade the door.” “What the—no, stay here—” But you yank out of her grasp and grab your backpack before she can utter another word. You had to suit up, quickly. There are a few things you love about being a hero. Helping people is one of them, whether that is chasing burglars, retrieving someone’s pet from a tree, or giving someone with directions. Does it also include confronting a lizard? Maybe, maybe not. In either case, it was for your character development. Students are rushing toward the exit while you try to locate a discreet place to change into your suit. The alarm blares, but it doesn’t stop him in the slightest. He’s roaring, wrecking doors and throwing everything he sees. You rush to a nearby supply closet and slam the door behind you, praying that no one chose this spot to hide in as well. It’d be the wrong time for your identity to be revealed. With trembling fingers, you hastily rip off your clothes and reach for your suit in your bag. Fumbling with the zips of your suit as you hold on to your mask with your teeth, you hear shrieking right outside the door. “Zips, please work with me,” you mutter. You barely manage to put on your mask when the door slams open. Jumping up to the corner of the wall, you cling to it. “Hi,” you greet, “Bad day, huh? I understand. We all have stressful weeks. How about we all just calm down with a cup of tea, all right?” “You don’t want to get in my way,” he growls, his neck craning in an unnatural angle, “Stay out of this one.” Who is this, and why is he talking like he knows you? Is he a criminal-turned-lizard that you pissed off? Someone you forgot to say hi to? Are these the consequences of not admitting your feelings? Yeah, it looks like you’re going to have to work on your karma. “Aw, I was really thinking of buying you a cup of tea. Don’t tell me you’re arachnophobic in this day and age.” You jump over his head, landing squarely on the floor, a couple of feet away from him. Most of the floor is empty, but you still need to take him off campus without getting ripped into shreds. He snarls, swiftly turning around, “You don’t want to aggravate me.” You raise your hands, “Wow, someone’s feeling emotional. We can talk about this. Without endangering people and destroying property.” He stomps his feet, charging up to you. “So talking is off the table. Got it.” You run towards him, sliding onto your knees, and shoot a web at his leg, making him lose his balance. Not wasting any energy, you jump on his shoulders, hitting the sides of his head. He grabs you, throwing you to the ground, “Get off.” The impact makes you cough up your breath. Never in your life have you been thrown around like a rag before. Usually it’s the other way around. And even then, you’re not that brutal with people. You still had manners, unlike someone. Snapping yourself from your haze, you look up to see him breathing heavily above you. He appraises you in a way that could only be human. It’s probably because of sleep deprivation and your concerning caffeine intake, but there is almost something familiar about him. And you would lie if you said that it didn’t make you shiver unpleasantly. “Alright, buddy. I’m only going to say this once,” you groan. “Stand down. Don’t make me have to hurt you.” His lips curl upwards, “I’m going to make an example out of you and enjoy every second of it.” “Aren’t reptiles cool-blooded? Why can’t you chill with the threats?” “You’re going to learn a valuable lesson today,” his claw extends towards your face. You quickly crawl under his body, holding on to his leg, “Is it about love and friendship or terror and danger? Because you’re the entire opposite of that one friendly purple dinosaur.” He grabs you, throwing you to the wall, breaking it down. Hopping up to your feet, you look around you. The bad news is, you’re in a laboratory. So any wrong mixes and you’ll either end up in a sizzling puddle or grow four pairs of arms. “I warned you,” he yells out. You shot a web to his eyes, taking advantage of his momentary distraction to jump on his back, shooting webs around his neck and holding the strings like reins. A spider and a lizard… The Daily Bugle’s going to have a field day with this. “Let go of me,” he roars, trying to shake you off him. “I think I’ll hold on to you for a while longer.” He whirls backwards, hitting your back. He reaches for you again when you dodge his claws, climbing up the ceiling. Soon enough, he’s right behind you. You can feel his rancid breath as he chases you to the end of the corridor’s ceiling, the overhead lights smashing to pieces. “Mankind needs to be better, for good. Corrected genes, corrected bodies. I thought you, out of everyone, would understand that.” The floor trembles when he follows you, the ground noticeably drifting. An apology letter to the faculty and janitors is due. “You’re right, I don’t understand. That’s a bit of a weird thing to say. You should invest in a dairy or a therapist.” He swings his tail wildly, smashing a trophy case. It’s about to hit you when you dart away from it, latching onto his tail, further infuriating him. He throws you from across the room, “You’re stubborn.” Ew. He’s definitely a lizard because you have a part of his body twitching in your hands. Shivering, you discard it and flip back to your feet. You’re going to need several showers after this. He faces you, mouth open as he bares his teeth. You wait for him to make the next move as he plunges forward. You charge at the same time. The web shot at his arm doesn’t deter him. His arm lunges for you as he presses you to the window. With his other hand, he drags the tip of his claw through your chest. You howl in pain as he laughs, his tongue eerily lolling. “So this is what you’re up to after chemistry class? I should’ve known. You were always unusually late, and you’ve been accumulating hematomas that couldn’t just be from skateboarding or…What was your last excuse? Falling down the stairs.” Tears catch the corner of your eyes, blurring your vision. You try to push through it to recognise him clearly. “I don’t know who you are,” you grunt, the drag of his nail making your head spin, “You have me confused with someone else. Many people skate, and some happen to be accident-prone.” “It’s a shame. You’re one of the best students on campus. Together…We could’ve saved people.” Science class? Is he a classmate? You carefully look at him, paying attention to his voice. Then you’re flashed with recognition. It’s Dr. Connors, your natural sciences professor. He had to take a few months off because of an illness…It looks like he found his own cure. “Dr…Dr Connors. I can see that you’re hurting. Let’s go over this. There has to be another way.” Out of all possible scenarios, this one was unexpected. The hopeful, perhaps stubborn part of you believes he’s there somewhere. This is the same man who brought gluten-free cupcakes for the science department on Earth Day. “You’ll find another way to buy me a couple of years? Get rid of my disease?” His hand now drifts up to your neck, cutting your airflow. “You’re smart enough to know those aren’t in my options.” You feel dizzy, a light sensation. Corners of your vision were progressively growing dark. Using your strength, you bring your thumbs together and press them down on his eyes. He immediately drops you, rubbing his eyes in pain. This time, you’ll get him. You crawl over his body, circling him several times to wrap him up in webs. You’re afraid you might be bleeding through your suit, but that’s a concern for later. Right now, you have a giant, angry Bill Nye turned dinosaur on your hands. “You’re going to regret this.” “You’re being a bad lizard,” you rasp, trying to find your voice back, “I tried being nice. No sweet treats for you.” You jump off him, shooting webs everywhere you can to slow him down. He tries to fight through them, but fails. It’s too early to celebrate your victory. You needed something to knock some sense into him—literally. What can you use? Water fountain? No. Bulletin board? Useless. Fire extinguisher? Technically unauthorised use of property, but it’s not like you had a tranquilliser on you. Amidst your panic, familiar sirens ring outside—your usual sign to wrap things up and leave before the mighty troop arrives. He’s just about to push through the webs when you shoot a web at the fire extinguisher and aim it for his head, making it comically bounce off with a clang. He blinks a couple of times, staying still before dropping, shattering the ground. Finally. You were this close to turning into kebble under his claws “Oh my god,” a voice squeals. You turn around and see Gwen, horror painting her face. She looks at the lying body, then at you. “Hey, hey…It’s alright. Your friend called for help. I told them to leave the campus and go somewhere safe.” You’re lying right to her face. But what else could you say? ‘Hey, it’s actually me, and I almost got KO’D by a walking lizard. Who also happens to be our natural science prof, by the way. He also has a problematic view on life, but hey, let’s go for a quick dinner downtown after this.’ She just shakes her head, too shocked to say anything until her eyes fall on the large scrapes on your chest. “Hey, breathe with me.” You step in front of her, motioning to repeat your breathing pattern. After a moment, she relaxes, her shoulders falling. “There we go. How are you feeling?” “I’m…Better. Thank you. It’s just—I tried calling my…My best friend, but they won’t answer.” “I told them to go somewhere safe. I know where they are. I’ll find them and tell them to call you, alright?” “I’m not the only one they should call.” Who else do you have to—oh. Wanda. You hope she hasn’t turned on the news yet. “I’ll let them know,” you nod, squeezing her shoulder. The second you hear the marching of your least favourite friends, you dart out. The last thing you want is a verbal standoff with Captain Stacy. Quickly retrieving your bag, you leave campus, swinging from building to building with only one place in mind. Luckily enough for you, it wasn’t a long distance from campus to the Tower. Finally reaching it, you scale the windows, stopping when you reach one you know well. You pause to take off your mask, tapping the window three times, hoping that she’s in your room and you won’t have to break into it. It miraculously slides open, and you sigh in relief. At the sight of her gleeful smile, your heart sinks, the reality of the situation hitting you like a force. “Hey, I was texting you and I oh my—What happened?” “The other guy’s the one you should be worried about,” you grunt, shrugging off your backpack. Keeping a hand around your waist, she helps you walk to her bed, placing a clean blanket and helping you lean back against the pillows. Just nearby, her guitar’s on the bed, a page of chords next to it. You then think of your conversations before Jurassic Park took you on a roller coaster ride. Her hands carefully move to your chest, wincing at your scratches. “God…” she gasps, “Who…What did this do to you?” “A green lizard…Wow. I just said that out loud.” She shakes her head, her hands moving to inspect your face, “Your face is bruised.” “So is my ego.” “Save the jokes for later,” she exasperates, “Take off your suit. I need to see the damage.” You frown, “What, for my suit? It’s okay. All it needs is a little sewing—” “I meant your injuries.” It takes a while for your tired brain to understand her demands until she gestures at your suit. Oh. Oh. Well. You’ve already seen each other in swimsuits. It shouldn’t be that terrifying. Then why do you feel mortified? “Right. I’m kind of used to being taken out to dinner first.” She rolls her eyes, “I’ll grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. It better be off when I return.” “Whatever you say,” you nod, fumbling with your collar. You unzip the upper half of your suit, shrugging off your tank top, hoping that’s all you need to remove. The situation is already embarrassing on its own. Seconds later, she returns with a medkit and a rag. She sits next to you, wincing at the clearer appearances of your injuries. “They look superficial. I don’t think you’ll need stitches.” She snaps on gloves. “Just relax.” You clear your throat, “A little music would be nice.” “If you stay still, I’ll play you the song on the guitar I was working on earlier. You know, since I’m a guitar hero,” she smirks. You went to cover your face, remembering at the very last second, she’s patching you up. How else are you supposed to hide, now? “It was a funny joke to emphasise your breathtaking talents.” “Are my talents that breathtaking?” “You’re breathtaking. And cool. You’re cool.” Your fumbling is endearing to her, more than it should have been. “I appreciate the sentiment.” She mutters, willing her brain to simmer down the flushing in her cheeks. Nice save, genius. Your heart races when she places a careful hand on your chest and gently cleans your skin. “It’s normal,” you shrug. “Hm. You know what I don’t appreciate?” Uh oh. You recognise that clipped tone. “Wha—” “Your flair for danger.” You play with the strings of her blanket, hanging down your head in shame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t expect it. I tried to be careful, I did—” “I deal with this any other day.” Her voice wavers before she schools her features. “Look, I’m not saying you’re incapable. But this…This is different from petty criminals.” You can tell she’s holding back from scolding you. It’s no surprise, she’s the most patient and gentle person you’d ever meet. Although…you don’t blame her. You’d be more than concerned if your friend showed up in the middle of nowhere with half a life on them. You softly inhale, mouth opening and closing as you’re trying to find the right thing to say. “I’m sorry. I’ll..I’ll call for help next time. I promise. I just…don’t want to have to be a burden—” “Be a burden to me. I’d rather that than…” she pauses, swallowing hard, “I’d rather that than to find you somewhere I wouldn’t want to.” You knew exactly what she meant. Loss was something you’ve both been through. It brought you closer and helped you understand the other. You feel awful for bringing her back to the very place that reminded her of her loss. It really wasn’t your finest moment. Mentally counting to ten, you slowly breathe out, “I will never allow that to happen.” “You better.” After cleaning the last bit of your wounds, she leans back, inspecting for a final time. As much as it did…ticked her off to see you injured, she’s relieved that you thought of stopping here first, instead of going back to your home alone. “I promise. I’m with you until the end.” She doesn’t even have to read your mind to know you’re honest. She hears how remorseful you are. “I…I didn’t mean to get all emotional,” she sighs, “It’s just that I care for you.” You carefully reach for her hand, giving her the time she needs to retreat if she wants to. Instinctively, her land latches on to yours. “I care about you, too.” You interlace your fingers with hers. “I care about your feelings, your thoughts. You’re important to me.” Your touches don’t retract. If anything, you find yourselves gravitating towards the other. You think you might’ve passed out at her window because none of this felt real. It’s only with the press of her forehead against yours, her breathing and the way she utters the name that you know it’s happening. She’s here, with you. Your eyes flicker between hers, dropping lower to her lips. She follows your movements with a silent question in mind. As her nose nudges against yours, you flutter your eyes closed. “Easy, there…” she whispers against your lips. You bite back a groan, mind going to absolute mush when her lips brush against yours. “Wanda…” “What is it that you want?” “You know what I want,” you grumble, hoping she won’t be able to feel how warm your face is, “Unless—Unless you don’t want to. No pressure—” “I want you to speak a little clearly,” she hums. You’re spiralling. How could she expect you to be clear when she’s talking to you like that? In a tone that isn’t too mocking but not genuine either. You’re sure that’s going to get you in a lot of trouble. She waits for you to speak, her hands holding your face, tracing the heat behind them. As much as she wants to cross the line, she needs to hear your permission. Definitely not because she wants to drive you a little insane first. “I want…Would like…I would like…” “It’s okay. We have all afternoon,” she chuckles. “Don’t mock me.” “I’m still waiting for your question.” “You’re being unfair.” I wish I could say I feel bad,” her voice comes out in a low whisper, words barely audible, “But I can’t do anything without an answer.” The husk of her voice wasn’t helping your case either. “I want you to kiss me.” Her lips brush against your jaw, the ghost of her breath sending pleasant shivers through your body. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” You’re about to come up with a rebuttal, but all words die out when she leans closer than she already is. With one last look, she presses her lips against yours, light and gentle at first, not wanting to rush the moment. Her hands were mindful of your wounds as she held your face. It’s better than anything you ever dreamed of. You try to remember everything—how soft she is, the taste of the cherry gum she’d chew on, the slow pace she was carrying on. You kiss her like you had all the time in the world, pouring your feelings, everything you want to say to her, everything you want to promise. It’s only when air takes over that you reluctantly pull away, breathing heavily. Even then, you did not completely move away. Gwen is right. It’s almost like you’re bewitched. A spell you’d fall into without wanting to be saved. “Definitely worth the wait,” you pant, not able to speak coherently as she positively stole any air you had. “I wanted to see how patient you are.” Her ragged breath, her eyes, the way she is blushing…It was too much for you. It’s probably because you got taken on a bad dinosaur train trip, but you feel you could melt into her. “Did I pass the test?” “I think we need to try again.” “You’re insufferable.” “You love it.” She leans forward again, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips before moving to the other side. You hold her still, eyes pleading with her. It was difficult resisting you, as much as she wants to drag your patience out. The more she kisses you, the further your need for her deepens. You try to remember everything in this moment, listening to her sighs and the way she mutters your name like a sweet promise. Air caught on to you again, forcing you to pull away. You took your time capturing everything—the flush of her face, her darkened gaze, and the freckles patching up her skin, “Are you free this week?” Your words stumble over each other, too caught up in her eyes to speak properly. She inhales, trying to steady her own breathing, “This weekend. I have reports to go through that I’ve been avoiding.” “…If I said I would like to take you out to dinner, would that be alright? Obviously, no pressure or anything, I mean—” “Shh…” she hushes, kissing the tip of your nose, “I’d like that.” “Really? As in…” “As in really, really.” “Really.” You grin, a flurry of emotions washing over you, “I like that you’d like that…Then.” Yeah, you’re really going to have to work on your nerves around her. She chuckles, her lips finding yours once again, shutting your brain off for good. Love isn’t as frightening as you imagined it to be. It’s a path you’ll always choose, in every lifetime, whether or not you have abilities. She’s the one you’ll always come back to.
After the Silence Masterlist Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader Summary: Her entire life took place within the walls of HYDRA. For as long as she can remember, she was treated as an experiment, trained to obey, and deprived of any chance to live like a normal person. She never learned to speak, read, or write. To HYDRA, she was a tool. A weapon. When the Avengers rescue her during a mission, she is forced to face a world she doesn’t understand and a freedom she never imagined having. As she tries to adapt to her new life, learn to communicate, and discover who she is beyond what HYDRA made of her, she finds in Natasha Romanoff someone who understands better than anyone the wounds left behind by a past like her own. Series Warnings: References to child abuse, psychological abuse, human experimentation, captivity, forced conditioning, trauma, PTSD symptoms, social isolation, dehumanization, anxiety, panic responses, identity Issues, first experiences, protective! Natasha, Soft! Natasha, avengers Family, eventual romance, slowburn. Prologue Chapter I : The Door
After the silence Prologue Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader Warnings: Child abuse, child neglect, human experimentation, psychological abuse, captivity, dehumanization, trauma, isolation, references to torture and forced conditioning. Word Count: 1184 A/N: First time posting here, I still don’t quite know how to use it. Please excuse my English as it’s not my first language. After the Silence masterlist Before she had a name, she had a number. Before anyone spoke to her with kindness, she learned to obey orders. Before she knew the world, she knew HYDRA. Her earliest memories weren’t really memories. They were scattered fragments, isolated images surviving in some corner of her mind without a clear order or an accompanying date. White lights, gray corridors, unfamiliar voices. The constant smell of chemicals. Hands holding her down as she tried to pull away. She had never known how old she was when the experiments began; they never told her. Nor did they explain why she was there. Or who the people entering and leaving the testing rooms were. Or why she seemed to be surrounded by adults who watched her as if she were an object instead of a person. For a long time, she didn’t even understand that this was strange. Because to understand that something is wrong, you first need to know an alternative. And she didn’t know one. HYDRA was all that existed. The entire world fit inside those walls. When she was little, she believed that laboratories were a natural part of life. The scientists appeared every morning, taking her from one room to another. They performed tests, took samples, and recorded results. Afterward, they returned her to her “room.” At first, she cried—she did so for weeks, perhaps for months. It is hard to tell when you don’t know the meaning of time. However, over the years, she learned something important. Crying changed nothing; the needles kept coming, the experiments kept happening. The scientists kept watching her from behind their screens. The pain remained, and no one came to help her. So she stopped crying; the adults seemed satisfied when that happened. She never understood why. The words came little by little—not because anyone tried to teach her, but simply because she listened. She listened to conversations, listened to orders, evaluations, threats. Certain words appeared over and over again: “Still.” “Wait.” “Again.” “Failure.” “Success.” “Hold her.” Those were the first ones she learned. She didn’t know how to read or write them, but she understood their meaning. She understood when they were directed at her. And, in time, she learned that understanding them could prevent punishments. Punishments were important. It was necessary to avoid them. HYDRA made sure to teach her that from a very young age. They didn’t need to explain the rules; the rules were learned by observing. A mistake brought consequences. A slow response brought consequences. Disobedience brought consequences. In time, she discovered that the best strategy was to anticipate: observe, listen, adapt. Those habits eventually became a part of her. Long after she forgot when they had even begun. The first time she saw another child, she was about eight years old. Or at least, that was the age she would be years later, when someone finally taught her how dates worked. The encounter lasted less than a minute. She was being moved between facilities when another group crossed the hallway. Among the scientists was a boy; he seemed to be around her age. He wore gray clothes, had a frightened expression, and for just a few seconds, their eyes met. It was the first time she understood that others existed—other people like her, people who also lived inside that world. Before she could get a better look at him, both groups kept walking. She never saw him again. For years she wondered what had become of him, if he was still there, if he had survived, if he had ever managed to escape. It was one of many questions that never received an answer. Education was never part of HYDRA’s plans. They didn’t teach her math. They didn’t teach her history. They didn’t teach her geography. No one spoke to her about countries. No one explained to her what a family was. No one showed her books. Sometimes she saw screens. Sometimes she overheard conversations. Sometimes she observed documents while the scientists worked. But those things were isolated fragments of a world that remained out of her reach. The information she received was always tied to a single purpose: to turn her into something useful, a tool, a successful project. And tools didn’t need an education—only obedience. As she grew older, the tests began to change. The laboratories became less frequent; training took up more time. She learned to run, to fight, to endure pain, to react before thinking. She learned to stay awake for impossible stretches of time. The instructors seemed satisfied when she improved. Dissatisfied when she didn’t. That was enough to understand what they expected of her. She didn’t need words; she never needed them. Over the years, she developed an almost instinctive ability to read expressions, movements, and tones of voice. It was a skill born of necessity. When a person grows up surrounded by individuals capable of punishing them for any mistake, learning to read others becomes a matter of survival. That was how she came to understand emotions no one had ever taught her. Fear. Anger. Frustration. Disappointment. She recognized them on other people’s faces. Though she rarely saw them reflected on her own. In time, she stopped wondering why she was there. Questions were useless; they changed nothing. Nor did she try to escape. She had seen enough punishments to understand it wasn’t an option. The world eventually narrowed down to a repetitive routine: Training. Testing. Food. Rest. Training again. The days blended into one another until they lost meaning. The weeks disappeared. The months disappeared. The years disappeared. And she was still there. Existing, surviving. Waiting for something she didn’t even know how to define. Sometimes she dreamed. She didn’t know they were dreams; she didn’t know the word. She would simply close her eyes and see strange things, places she had never visited: open fields, lakes, forests, immense skies. People smiling, hands that didn’t hurt, voices that didn’t give orders. Upon waking, those images faded quickly. However, they always left behind an uncomfortable feeling. Something like nostalgia, something like loss. As if a part of her knew that something existed beyond those walls. Something that had been stripped away from her before she even had the chance to understand it. The night before the rescue passed just like any other. She ate dinner. She returned to her room. She sat by the wall. She listened to the usual sounds of the facility. Footsteps. Doors. Distant voices. Machines running. Nothing seemed different; nothing indicated that her life was about to change. Because the events that transform an existence rarely announce their arrival. They simply happen. A door opens, a person appears, and suddenly everything that seemed unchangeable ceases to be. That night, as she sat in the darkness of her room, watching the familiar shadows that covered the concrete walls, she couldn’t imagine that the next day she would see the sky for the first time. She couldn’t imagine that she would leave the facility. She couldn’t imagine that she would meet people who didn’t want to use her. She couldn’t imagine that one day she would have a name. Nor that a red-haired woman would end up becoming the first person from whom she would learn the meaning of feeling safe. Because she still knew nothing of that. She was still a prisoner. She still belonged to HYDRA. And she was still unaware that, just a few hours away, a door was about to open.
About the #marvel tag
What is the #marvel tag on Tumblr?
#marvel is a Tumblr tag people add to their posts so others can find related content. This page collects public posts tagged #marvel from blogs across Tumblr so you can browse them in one place.
Can I browse #marvel posts without a Tumblr account?
Yes. Zoomblr shows posts tagged #marvel with no login or account required — just scroll the feed above. It's completely free.
How do I save an image from a #marvel post?
Open the blog of any post you like via its link, then use Zoomblr's post viewer to download the image in full resolution.
