ConvictionConvictionMore Like This
(A Loki Drabble)
"Even I don't know what it does. Should we find out?" A Midgardian. Average height and weight. Caucasian. Straight mouse-brown hair. Balding. Sharp but otherwise unremarkable eyes. A weathered sadness in them, but only noticeable if one squinted. A large nose. A plain charcoal gray suit and a plain black tie, tailored acceptably, but nothing stunning. Tidy and normal and the picture of "sufficient." Holding a large bazooka that Loki could recognize, from ten feet away, was built from Destroyer technology.
From his own grave miscalculation, in New Mexico, so many months ago--or was it years? Loki had lost track of time while swallowed by a wormhole in space and made a personal plaything by Thanos and the Chitauri. This impudent human about whom nothing, nothing, was memorable, was waving a piece of Loki's biggest tactical error in his face, like a gods-damned bugle heralding his flaws.
His hands raised off the hovering holo-console on which rested the
Avengers: In MemoriamIn MemoriamMore Like This
in memoriam, a Latin phrase that translates directly as 'in memory of'"Did you mourn?"
"We all did."They all mourn. Just in different ways.
There is a bloodstain on the wall.
None of them ever mention it or show any sign of letting it dwell in their thoughts, but Fury has noticedwith his 'good eye' as Stark likes to refer to it asthat there are a few rare moments just before a mission when they can be found gathered around the mark they refuse to let anyone clean away, and one or two of them at a time can be found giving it more than just a passing glance as they wander by it, fingers outstretched and tips barely brushing the surface.
The stain marks more than another casualty of battleit is a moment of triumph, of death; it is where, separate as they were, they became a team, where they found something (no, someone) to avenge. It is where they go on their own to collect their thoughts, looking into the empty void before them (th
It Just Seemed RightCruelly enough the day the funeral was held it was absolutely sunny. Not just regular old sunny, but picture perfect sunny, with little cotton ball clouds drifting softly through the air, without a care in the world, like you would see on a post card from the Bahamas. If Mother Nature actually cared, she would have been smart and made it overcast to match the moods of the Avengerssad, but not willing to give any actual tears, with hints of bitterness and regret, that should have been the weather for the funeral, but no, it was going to be picture perfect and aggravate everyone involved. Steve originally thought it was stupid to curse the forces of nature, but today it felt adequate enough, because it just wasn't fair to have such beautiful weather on the day of Phil Coulson's funeral.More Like This
But then again, there's a good chance Coulson would've wanted it that way.
The sermon was quicka pastor prayed and whatnotand instead of inside a funeral home, the service had bee
His name was Phil (Avengers Spoilers!)SPOILERS FOR "THE AVENGERS" - DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE MOVIEMore Like This
His name was Phil
Pepper was crying.
The invasion was over, the Avengers triumphant. Sure Manhattan had taken a beating in the ensuing fight not like it could be avoided with the chitauri leaping across buildings, scratching up the walls before being flattened into them by the Hulk. And those bionoid flying creatures hadn't exactly been careful with where they parked their dead asses...particularly after being blown up from the inside or having a man-sized piece of shrapnel hammered into their brain stem Grand Central Station needed a new paint job anyways. Hey, let's not forget the not-so-nippy sleds those guys were using that couldn't bank worth a damn, crashed way too much for the city's aesthetic sense but nowhere near enough for everyone's safety. Yup, clean-up was going to be a bitch.
Pepper was crying.
Loki was gone. He couldn't play any tricks on any of the team now, mess
Agents of Shield-Commander's Duty F/M“Skye! Come in, sit down.” Agent Coulson gestured to the chair opposite his desk in his office as he sat down at it, slight smile on his face as always.More Like This
“Hiya AC, what can I do for ya?” Skye asked as she sat down and crossed her legs, leaning forward slightly.
Coulson took the shortened name in stride, just smiling a little wider. “Well actually I need a favor. It’s not work related, I need…your advice.”
Skye’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “My…advice? That’s a new one, what’s up?”
“Well,” Coulson began, “we all know it’s a safe bet that you’re the most…socially adept person on this plane.”
“Oh and so modest.” Coulson teased.
“Always.” Skye grinned widely. “So what social problem can I solve for the great AC?”
“Ward. He’s a great CO, but he doesn’t relax. I’ve tried givin