areiton reblogged
Get ready for some angst from @areiton
SAVE THE DATE! Preorders open on January 27
The Avengers & Friends Swimsuit Special - (2022)
Fake comic covers inspired by The Swimsuit Special, an annual magazine-styled comic book published by Marvel Comics from 1991 to 1995. If you are interested in my other Marvel series, check out my Marvel Series Masterpost. ♥
areiton reblogged
678i0u
This is the best I can do. This is exactly what I wanted.
areiton reblogged
I remember watching Iron Man when I was doing a television job in Sweden, and I absolutely loved it. Cut to three years later and I’m in a scene with Iron Man. I’m a huge tennis fan and I kept saying it’s like playing tennis with Roger Federer, in that he makes you look good. — Tom Hiddleston on working with Robert Downey Jr.
Never forget that RDJ asked Tom to choke him harder.
Rdj did WHAT?!
RDJ : Harder daddy.
litsaryn
You really need RDJ’s reply though:
areiton reblogged
I tried to do marvel challenge in July but something went wrong :’)
areiton reblogged
the big three + i’m sorry it’s broken
areiton reblogged
The Avengers Arcana - (2020)
I’ve been wanting to draw these cards for a long time (I even started to work on them then dropped) but I was rather busy with The Life of Bucky Barnes in the past 6 years. I’m sorry but there are only eight cards, don’t look for the rest. I won’t draw the missing cards because 1) it’s far too time-consuming and 2) art thieves. (more details HERE)
Hope you’ll enjoy these cards though. Thank you. ♥
areiton reblogged
Anonymous asked:
Could you write a blurb about Steve being anxious in the future (even if it’s been a few years he still has the nightmares and scars and PTSD) so all the avengers have little routines he can count on to help him. BTW I love your writing and I think you just write in a different way than I’ve ever seen!
🥺 nonnie i love you?? first you come in with the steve hc req and then the kind words, when are we getting married?
Steve tried to make sense of the world he had woken up to. Lord knows he did. But it was a world so far beyond recognition, he was left feeling colder than his time in the ice. He felt like an outsider, watching through a glass window, as life passed him by.
He couldn't sleep much, in the beginning. Wondered if there had been some greater reason for his "miraculous resurrection". The media thought it was, anyway. Him? Not so much.
He'd spent frigid nights in his tiny apartment, thrashing in his bed, reliving the day he'd put Schmidt's ship into the water. He'd tried his best to go fearlessly, but the water had been too cold, even for him and he had felt his heart slowly, painfully give out. Almost every night he felt the same thing— an icy clasp of the water around his throat, slowly sucking his life-force.
Then he'd met the other Avengers. And he thought his life would maybe find purpose again, that maybe there was a reason after all.
It was easy trying to focus on saving the world and it's people, and his mind drifted for four glorious days.
On the fifth night, he woke up screaming and found Natasha standing in the doorway, one hand on the door handle, hesitant.
"Steve?"
"I'm fine," he had gritted out and Natasha had hurriedly left, although he wished she hadn't. But he wasn't weak, was he? He never had been. He couldn't be. Even when he wasn't serum-ed up, he'd known weakness would get him no where.
He locked his door when he went to sleep the next night.
They'd done it. Stark had put the missile in the sky, the aliens were dead and earth was saved. The Tower was his second home now.
Tony Stark. He was something else. Steve found him in the kitchen one night when he had stayed over, eyes sunken and dark. It had been awkward for a whole minute as Tony rummaged through the fridge. "There's nothing in here. Clint's dead to me," he had commented and a visibly disheveled Steve had laughed— and that had been that. No questions asked.
The nightmares seemed to be getting worse. He saw the howling commandos sometimes, sometimes he saw Bucky falling.
He took all of his blankets one night and spent an hour building a fort on the roof.
"Got room for one more?" Natasha's head poked into the fort just as Steve began to settle in.
Steve thought for a moment and then nodded. He couldn't turn her away again.
She snuggled up beside him. She didn't ask why he was up here, or why his eyes looked red in the dim torch light.
They talked about nothing and everything for God knows how long, and when Steve woke up beside her next morning, he realised he'd had a dreamless sleep for the first time in a very long time.
Days turned into months, over the course of which the Avengers were assigned smaller issues to tackle. Because the world wasn't in catastrophic and imminent danger, they found themselves to be more free than usual.
"How- how do you work this thing?" Thor asked him one evening, glaring at the tiny phone in his large hand.
"What do you want to do with it?" Steve asked, falling into the couch beside him.
"Open it, for starters."
Steve smiled, taking the phone from his hands.
"It's just this button on the side."
Despite having the inventor of that very phone in the same room, Thor only asked Steve about technology. And that's when Steve realised, he wasn't the only outsider in this world.
When he met Sam, he saw the nightmares he'd himself seen, in his eyes. He saw a man who'd lost a friend just as he had, who'd seen war like he had. They were quick friends, time was of the essence, and somewhere, Steve found solace in their shared griefs.
He was the second person Steve recounted the time he went into ice to. Natasha was first.
"Cap?" Tony's voice sounded from somewhere to his left and Steve blinked, as the debris settled.
"You okay?" he asked, arm reaching over to hold him as he struggles to sit up. "Come on, old man, up."
Tony fell next to him, visibly exhausted. Steve gulped jn a lungful of air as he removed his cowl. One of his ribs was definitely broken.
"I told you we've got to spar harder, Tony. I'm winded."
"Yeah well, I didn't think I'd get my ass handed to me by my own robot."
Tony never failed to make him laugh.
The nightmares seemed to have been emptied out and replaced by honey-tinted memories of his team-mates.
Waking up to Clint's coffee, Natasha's bed head when she fell asleep beside him at times, Tony's rare smile that seemed to be reserved for him and him only, Thor's talks, Bruce's constant chatter of things he didn't understand, Sam and then Wanda and then Bucky....
There was so much, so much he had in life all of a sudden, that there were times he didn't even question if he belonged anymore.
Nat's sly smile or Tony's touch. Thor's thundering voice or Bruce's incessant worrying. It hit him all at once; that this was it. This was his purpose. To lead the life of love he had lost. A second chance.
He started to believe in miracles again.
areiton reblogged
no light back home
by VerdantMoth
Death is dark. Death is dark and empty and numb. He expected cold. Loud. Expected pain. Dying was a billion faces and voices exploding in his brain.
Words: 836, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
- Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe
- Rating: Not Rated
- Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
- Characters: Tony Stark
- Additional Tags: Post-Endgame, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Reincarnation, Sort Of, Alternate Ending
areiton reblogged
Avengers + Breaking News Meme
areiton reblogged
by VerdantMoth
Sometimes Asset moves like the puppet he is. When the sun has scorched his calcium armor into a brittle cage, he is unable to move with silent ease.
Then doctors strap him down to a table made of stone and metal and ancient, and they break him. Doctors burn the flesh from his muscles, break every bone, inside and outside, and they take his memories with white fire that tastes like iron.
He never remembers what his last frame looked like, is never allowed more than stolen glimpses of his new faces.
Words: 3525, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
- Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe
- Rating: Not Rated
- Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
- Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Harley Keener
- Relationships: James “Bucky” Barnes/Clint Barton
- Additional Tags: Found Family, Avengers Family, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Magical Elements, Loose Adaptation of Berserker Mythology, Canon-Typical Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Deaf Clint Barton, Nonbinary Character
verdantbogmoth-deactivated20230
sing the lullaby of hell
Story goes, and it’s not in any books, not written anywhere or rememberable by anyone willing to speak, but story goes, when James Buchanan Barnes was born, his mother screamed with a fear unheard of in the small Gaelic town.
Story’s whispered, that the Mother Barnes wailed for the drumbeat song still beating in her chest, now trailing after her son.
There’s a nurse somewhere, one who burned for smuggling the Witch and her child to the New World, who went to the stake ashen faced but firm. “That boy has war in his blood, and war will break and remake him a hundred times before this world ends.”
-
There’s a single scrap of journal, written in quick but neat scrawl, of a nurse interviewed after Steve was laid to ice.
“Sarah Rogers was stoic, but she couldn’t stop the rivers drowning out the joy of the runtling who survived. Something was wrong with her, with the boy. Born in loneliness they were. Something no one in the room could explain. All the blood, the carnage. All the heat, and breath still clouded the air. Sarah Rogers sang a lullaby to her runtling, the boy who should never have survived his own birth. It was a somber song, full of death and loss, longing and loneliness. I believe Steve Rogers wore that lullaby on his skin, woven through his veins.”
There’s a few scribbled out stanzas of a lullaby too dark for any child.
-
There’s naught but silence when Natasha Romanova was ripped from her mother’s womb.
Whispers in the academy said the babe didn’t even cry as they carted her mother away, as they strapped her into a metal basket and broke her tiny fist across a blade.
That’s why, they said, she blended into the shadows.
A babe born into absolute silence will always find a home in the darkest of quiet.
There’s naught but silence said about her birth when the academy burns behind her.
-
The storm was brewing when Bruce Banner’s mother first went into labor. It’s been building for months and months. His mother believed it was a sign, so she carved chimes from the wood of the furniture his father smashed through in his drunken anger. She hung the chimes outside of the birthing cottage.
Bruce took his first breath as the skies let out their apologies, as they wailed with him, and the wooden chimes screamed a hollow plea.
-
Clinton Francis Barton is born under a heavy fist and shouted curses. Say he came out the wrong way, upside down and inside out.
Say he came out already bent outta shape, and he never quite bent himself back right.
When Clint was born, the world was so fucking loud he stripped the noise and stuffed it into his belly and maybe that’s why his ears went wrong.
‘Cause Clint was born under a cacophony of hatred he tried to swallow so no one else would suffer, and the sound got stuck in the wrong place.
But only because he held his mother’s laughter in his heart, the only sound he really remembers from his birth.
-
The sun was so bright when Thor was born, but Frigga could not see the shine for the cloud looming just beyond her eyes.
“This is the last of the peaceful days for him,” she says as she cradled him to her breast. “For a god for whom the thunder beats, a storm must always follow.”
-
Champagne pops like shots from a gun when Anthony Stark is born.
Glitz and glamor dress him up, a doll on his mother’s arm.
But the baby is a brilliant thing, too smart to be paraded around like a toy.
Maria Stark smiles, and she dotes, and she loves her son.
Howard eyes the boy and he can hear it, the death bell toll, thunder roll. There’s laughter in the boy’s belly and silence at his feet.
Tony stark will lead any army, all the way to the grave.
His is the song they will all sing.
His is the song they will all be buried beneath.
-
“What are you humming, darling?” Rhichard says to Mary’s swollen belly.
“I don’t quite know,” she says back. “It feels incomplete.”
“It sounds like it belongs in the catacombs,” Richard laughs.
He stops laughing when Peter is born, when the holy music spills like an omen from his son’s lungs. “He’s missing an orchestra,” Richard whispers in horror.
Mary grips her son tight, “I fear the day he finds it. They’ll stand above a stone and sing a harmony of anguish.”
-
Peter meets them, one by one by one, and the songs fall into place. The raucous laughter, and the heavy drum beats. The soft wood raring into an angry chime bracketed by a deadly silence. It begins with a thunder that promises floods and swells with the pop of a thousand cameras.
But it ends the same, each and every time.
A hymn forgotten until your hand is full of fresh turned earth.
areiton reblogged
verdantbogmoth-deactivated20230
sing the lullaby of hell
Story goes, and it’s not in any books, not written anywhere or rememberable by anyone willing to speak, but story goes, when James Buchanan Barnes was born, his mother screamed with a fear unheard of in the small Gaelic town.
Story’s whispered, that the Mother Barnes wailed for the drumbeat song still beating in her chest, now trailing after her son.
There’s a nurse somewhere, one who burned for smuggling the Witch and her child to the New World, who went to the stake ashen faced but firm. “That boy has war in his blood, and war will break and remake him a hundred times before this world ends.”
-
There’s a single scrap of journal, written in quick but neat scrawl, of a nurse interviewed after Steve was laid to ice.
“Sarah Rogers was stoic, but she couldn’t stop the rivers drowning out the joy of the runtling who survived. Something was wrong with her, with the boy. Born in loneliness they were. Something no one in the room could explain. All the blood, the carnage. All the heat, and breath still clouded the air. Sarah Rogers sang a lullaby to her runtling, the boy who should never have survived his own birth. It was a somber song, full of death and loss, longing and loneliness. I believe Steve Rogers wore that lullaby on his skin, woven through his veins.”
There’s a few scribbled out stanzas of a lullaby too dark for any child.
-
There’s naught but silence when Natasha Romanova was ripped from her mother’s womb.
Whispers in the academy said the babe didn’t even cry as they carted her mother away, as they strapped her into a metal basket and broke her tiny fist across a blade.
That’s why, they said, she blended into the shadows.
A babe born into absolute silence will always find a home in the darkest of quiet.
There’s naught but silence said about her birth when the academy burns behind her.
-
The storm was brewing when Bruce Banner’s mother first went into labor. It’s been building for months and months. His mother believed it was a sign, so she carved chimes from the wood of the furniture his father smashed through in his drunken anger. She hung the chimes outside of the birthing cottage.
Bruce took his first breath as the skies let out their apologies, as they wailed with him, and the wooden chimes screamed a hollow plea.
-
Clinton Francis Barton is born under a heavy fist and shouted curses. Say he came out the wrong way, upside down and inside out.
Say he came out already bent outta shape, and he never quite bent himself back right.
When Clint was born, the world was so fucking loud he stripped the noise and stuffed it into his belly and maybe that’s why his ears went wrong.
‘Cause Clint was born under a cacophony of hatred he tried to swallow so no one else would suffer, and the sound got stuck in the wrong place.
But only because he held his mother’s laughter in his heart, the only sound he really remembers from his birth.
-
The sun was so bright when Thor was born, but Frigga could not see the shine for the cloud looming just beyond her eyes.
“This is the last of the peaceful days for him,” she says as she cradled him to her breast. “For a god for whom the thunder beats, a storm must always follow.”
-
Champagne pops like shots from a gun when Anthony Stark is born.
Glitz and glamor dress him up, a doll on his mother’s arm.
But the baby is a brilliant thing, too smart to be paraded around like a toy.
Maria Stark smiles, and she dotes, and she loves her son.
Howard eyes the boy and he can hear it, the death bell toll, thunder roll. There’s laughter in the boy’s belly and silence at his feet.
Tony stark will lead any army, all the way to the grave.
His is the song they will all sing.
His is the song they will all be buried beneath.
-
“What are you humming, darling?” Rhichard says to Mary’s swollen belly.
“I don’t quite know,” she says back. “It feels incomplete.”
“It sounds like it belongs in the catacombs,” Richard laughs.
He stops laughing when Peter is born, when the holy music spills like an omen from his son’s lungs. “He’s missing an orchestra,” Richard whispers in horror.
Mary grips her son tight, “I fear the day he finds it. They’ll stand above a stone and sing a harmony of anguish.”
-
Peter meets them, one by one by one, and the songs fall into place. The raucous laughter, and the heavy drum beats. The soft wood raring into an angry chime bracketed by a deadly silence. It begins with a thunder that promises floods and swells with the pop of a thousand cameras.
But it ends the same, each and every time.
A hymn forgotten until your hand is full of fresh turned earth.
