shieldagentnatasharomanoff

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

OOC: Today was freaking stressful, I'll go lay on the floor... Everything is fine (finally) but all my stress just vanished because the situation resolved and I'm so exhausted. I'll be back to regular shenanigans soon.

#ooc talks #the widow without her bites: OOC

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

After Roach deposited her on the couch, Natasha sighed, reliefed to feel something under her fingertips again. It wasn't bad, being carried by the animated Cloak but it felt weird in this state of vulnerability. She prefered to stand upright, have a say at where they went or at least to enjoy the experience, but it wasn't exactly possible if one was carried on it like a floaty wheelchair, stretcher mix. Still, she did appreciate the gesture.

Natasha turned to her side with a painful grunt, facing the scraggly, unruly hair matted to his head. "You're a bad liar, Stephen." She stated, wanting to hit him for his infuriating stubborness. "The 'ol batteries are held together by ductape at best, I felt that thing... and this isn't the only thing you've absorbed. At least be honest about it." Did he owe her that much? He just safed her so propably not.

"I don't think that thing was your fault. I was so angry at you, so scared of the things we had witnessed and done... you not telling me something was wrong but letting me get caught in the crossfire, literally, I think whatever this was just grew and I let it fester for far too long. This isn't all on you." She turned onto her back, her hand gently resting against his head, as if asking for permission. "I'm glad I came back though." She sighed. "I'm sorry too, for the things I've said in there."

He didn’t answer her, head bowed as he kept ahead, back to her as Roach carried her along like somewhere between a wheelchair and a flying carpet. Even at the short distance between them, though, she could hear him quietly murmuring under his breath, either thinking aloud or talking to himself… more than likely a bit of both.

“I’ll be fine,” He reiterated, gripping the arm of the couch as they returned into the overgrown sitting room. As though his body was intent on proving him wrong, his legs seemed to give out, and he slumped to sit heavily on the floor beside it, not looking up as Roach carefully deposited her there before fluttering to wrap itself around his shoulders again like a security blanket. “I just… need to recharge the ol’… batteries. Perfectly fine. Dandy. Great. Fantastic.”

A roar in his ears, a whirlwind of despair, let it go, just breath out, it’ll pass, or he’ll at least get used to it again.

“I shouldn't have let you leave, before. Not without being sure I had gotten everything purged. I thought I had. I’m sorry.”

#thread: misery loves company

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

Natasha wanted to stand on her own two feet, but she didn't trust herself to stand, not after what her body had just endured. But it didn't seem right to have him carry the weight of whatever had grown inside of her. He needed a cup of tea or a meal or rest just as much as she did.

Her own bed... It sounded wonderful to have her large, soft bed to cuddle into, she could ask him to drop her at the Compound, not her apartment, Steve would be there and Wanda and Bruce, her friends, her family. They wouldn't ask questions, simply drag her to medical, give her a check up and take care of her while she rested, but she watched him sway and Natasha wasn't sure leaving would be a good idea.

Now that her head felt clearer, she wasn't as scared, as angry as she had been before, not coming here until it had become an absolute necessity. "I don't know if I can make it home just yet. You can just dump me in the living room." Natasha remarked on his offer, trying to give him a small smile, not daring to ask if her room still existed. Roach held her upright. She gave the cloak a soft caress and whispered a "thank you." before adressing Stephen again. "You are a lot of things, Stephen, but you are not fine. Especially now." She wouldn't let it slide, not again, last time it nearly killed her and it had caused him pain. At some point Natasha needed to start holding them accountable.

Despite her protests, the cloak slipped under her, lifting her like a cross between a hammock and a stretcher, allowing Stephen to sway to his own feet, finally reluctantly letting her go. He shuffled back, breathing heavily as though attempting to keep nausea down… it wasn’t nausea, though.

“I’m…” He murmured, distantly, a long, slow pause drifting between them as though he had lost sense of the moment, distracted by something deep in his head. “…fine” He finished, as though remembering he had started a sentence. “You’ll be fine as well. You… just need rest. I can send you home, to your own bed, if you like.” Away from him. He deserved to be alone. Just rest and return to his work. He felt drunk, and not the fun sort. The sort that made the room swim and the spiral of internal dialogue almost drowning. The black veins pulsated, his eyes rolling in his skull for a moment as though he were about to lose consciousness, but he managed to keep himself upright, nodding pointedly before leading Roach and their patient back toward the door that lead to the mirror Sanctum beyond.

#thread: misery loves company #now that her head is clear Nat's just like fuck no. I'm not leaving you alone after absorbing misery goo XD

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

As Stephen flinched, Natasha pulled her own hand back as if she'd been burned, part shock, part disbelief. Her mind was scrambled, thoughts came slow as tar, sensations send her into a state of overstimulation. It was a strange mix of everything was too fast and too slow all at once and she just existed in the middle of it all trying not to drown.

Then he hugged her with the same ferocity as earlier when she'd stepped a foot into his world for the first time in nearly a year and again she wrapped an arm around him, awkwardly this time given their position had her arms slightly pinned to her side. "I'm suprisingly hard to kill. But not immune to suffocating." Natasha pressed out, the words feeling hollow and tasting of ash. Her voice sounded like rough stone on sandpaper, but she felt lighter then she had in months.

Her friend was shaking and she wanted to comfort him, help him stand, reasure him that everything was going to be alright now. "Stephen, hey. It's okay. You can breathe. I feel like shit but it won't help if we both collapse half way somewhere else. Take a moment. Please." Her voice was almost pleading, fear for her own sake as well as his, as the garment that hung dutifully near them started to flap their way menacingly.

He was just about to lean in for another round of breaths when she suddenly took one on her own, and he flinched as her hand gently took his wrist. His expression was wild, like a feral animal caught in the night, dark veins lacing across his cheeks, his irises pale silver disks against the blackened sclera. Without thinking, he suddenly lunged forward, hauling her up into his arms to hug tightly, “You’re alive. You’re okay. You’re okay,” He repeated breathily, rocking gently as the panic overtook him.

She was right to have run from him. A plague, he was a plague on whatever reality he touched-

“Let… let me help get you… somewhere more comfortable.” He was trembling as though every muscle was spasming, even as he motioned for Roach to help him lift her up to carry her from this space.

#thread: misery loves company #supremestrangeness

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

How much could a mhuman body take? Misery infestations, Bullet Wounds, Broken Bones, Experiments from the age it had been a young child. Truth serums had been shoved into her veins as they conditioned her in the Red Room. All sorts of Drugs kept her pliable, made them take her memories, change them, helped in her conditioning that would lead to the proverbial Red that gushed out of her ledger. Though there was something, in those experiments, those things injected into her. A diluted version of working super soldier serum that wasn't supposed to work, but it gave the widow just a little bit of edge to give her an advantage in a fight and heal a little bit faster.

It also meant resilience and right now, it meant salvation. Seconds passed and some combination of luck, fate, maybe, Stephen's medical skills and Natasha's serum made her heart beat again and her take a breath.

Her ears were ringing as blood started rushing again and a weight kept pressing down on her chest, a muttered "No, no, no..." close to her.

"It's okay." She willed her lips to move, but it was nothing more then a whisper. Exhaustion filled her limbs, but still, her hand moved to weakly wrap around his wrist. The taste of something indiscribably disgusting stuck in her mouth, nose and throat.

He braced himself for her answer, surprised momentarily by her groggy confidence in him. He faltered, the human core within him shifting- but the ear piercing scream was enough to snap him back to the moment at hand, giving a roar of his own as the inky tendrils shot like knives from her and into him, knocking him backward, crawling into his pores, under his skin, beast tumbling until he skidded to a stop several yards outside of the circle, head swimming, a brief moment of relief washing over him- he’d done it. He’d gotten her free of this curse- he’d…

His heightened senses locked onto her still form. The pit of his stomach dropped. “No… no no no no not again, not again-“ Scrambling weakly to his feet, the monstrous form dropped away, leaving just the haggard man, frantically crawling his way back to her.

There was no pulse.

He was a Doctor wasn’t he? A neurosurgeon wasn’t the same as a proper doctor- no, no he knew what to do. Standard, normal things. No magic required. He had this. He could still fix this… Bottling his terror, he began chest compressions, CPR, anything he could to try to get her fragile human body functioning again. This first, then he’d try something more drastic… One thing at a time.

One more drop in the bucket.

“No, no no no…” He whispered the whole while.

#thread: misery loves company

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

OOC: I took today off mentally and just made it back home. Don't know if I'm gonna get anything written tonight but I'm around to plot and chat if someone feels inclined to :)

#ooc talks #the widow without her bites: ooc

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

There was a long silence, her body convulsing under the spell that seperated her from the misery manifest, slowly, so slowly, but the black tendrils dug deeper into the muscles of her heat and constricted. Squeezed her chest tight that she feared the tendons and ligaments that held her together would snap. "And you'll just force whatever plan you've concogted onto me, after everything you've already forced? After everything you put me through? That's weak, even for you, but what would I expect from a coward."

It hurt, it hurt to say the words, did she say them to him? to herself? Selfish, coward, scared, cruel, all those things applied to both of them.

And then he asked a question and her vision cleared, it felt like she could take a full breath again, deep into her lungs. And she looked up at him, at the monstrous features, the outstretched claws, her eyes void of blackness, her teal irises clear on him and when she spoke it was her voice, with no doubt. "No. I don't think that, because you're Stephen, you care too much, you're good even when you don't believe it yourself." She reached, wanting to take his claw the way she'd done so many times, unafraid and without anger, the way they were supposed to work.

And then the pain returned, wrapping around her chest, the black tendrils piercing through her arm, pinning her to the floor as the black cage leaned towards the creature and anchored itself around her.

Natasha screamed, her chest convulsed, heaving, she coughed, black liquid spilling out of her mouth and nose, she swallowed it, thick like bile and twice as disgusting. It just made her cough up more as it poured and pured out of her, drawn in by Strange's misery, selfhate, so much greater then it's host and then she stilled. The last drops leaving her behind as her heart gave out.

"Then do it." She snarled. "You can afford another person who doesn't want to be around you." There was black filling her eyes now, ichor pouring through the pores in her skin, the veins as he kept unwinding the black tendrils that gripped into her harder as he unwound them.

"If I'm just a pet, just leave me to the misery. Give up the last pieces of your humanity. It would be so easy. Just let her succomb and feed another part of your own doom. It's what will happen anyways."

#thread: misery loves company #supremestrangeness

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

"Then do it." She snarled. "You can afford another person who doesn't want to be around you." There was black filling her eyes now, ichor pouring through the pores in her skin, the veins as he kept unwinding the black tendrils that gripped into her harder as he unwound them.

"If I'm just a pet, just leave me to the misery. Give up the last pieces of your humanity. It would be so easy. Just let her succomb and feed another part of your own doom. It's what will happen anyways."

”I could,” He conceded, not losing concentration of the spell, simply going with the flow it seemed. This was necessary. A part of the process. The point was to hurt. “I thought you could help me forget. To move on. I was wrong. I never will. That’s clear. I’m a monster of my own making. A true monster.” As he said it, his form rippled, expanded, darkened in deep grey greens and purples, human face fading as the demonic looking creature he had become the last time she had seen him took his place. “You are nothing more than a pet, a hobby. A distraction. You don’t know what a true monster is, just your limited, myopic, human understanding.”

No, that voice inside him whispered, she reminded him of his humanity- “I used you. I’ve been using you. Since the beginning.”

#thread: misery loves company #...

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

"Better." Natasha answered with a pleasant smile, her demeanor changing. There was something genuine rather then just 'customer service face and voice' that she would use with many of the people who came in to peruse the bookstore. She grabbed a bag that had an owl sitting on a town sign desplaying the stores name on it.

It had been her designs that Aiden graciously put into action on her behalf, finding her drawings charming and being supportive of them. "That should do. It's on the house. You're purchasing enough books to warrant a free bag and don't worry, I'm not going to expect you to wear it for advertisement." The redhead started stacking the books neatly and slipping them into the bag in practiced, fluid motions.

Natasha possessed a dancers grace, even years later, things ingrained to her, tied to her muscles and imprinted on her memories. She had never fully stopped dancing despite the hurt that came with a past she couldn't quite remember. Then she finished the process of ringing him up. "Your total will be 1,229 and 59 cents." She didn't add a question for cash or card, just waiting on his preferred method of paiment.

"I suppose so." And there really were other people who needed those books. "And that's true. Professors come in here for coffee or book club a few times a week and their work is... lackluster. Not all of them but a few seem like they would assign the tasks from a book rather then come up with their own." She sighed, putting the bag upright.

"I'm not a student, no. I work here most days and I'm teaching dance lessons down at the community center for kids on sunday afternoons. The store belongs to my dad."

Two years of aggressively trying to fit in, getting all the qualifications and documents set up that qualified her for being a 'normal person'. Most of her identity was fake. Her name, her background, her education levels, as she had never attended an actual school and 'learning how to manipulate and murder people' sadly hadn't made it on the list of appropriate school degrees as of yet.

Two years ago, Aiden Rushmore had found a girl lieing in a street, battered, broken, bleeding, half mad from whatever substances she'd been on... and stabbed. The girl didn't remember what came before, though they had found a full backstory matching a possible life she might have led. The bookstore owner decided to take her in and raise her as his own.

Now, six years later, she was flipping on the espresso machine in the little café area of the bookstore and stocking the display case with fresh pastries and snacks. There was a mix of sweet and hearty treats and once she was satisfied, passed it off to Carly, another employee, to take her space behind the register.

As the morning truged on, a new face showed up, just grabbing book after book. Another student from the looks of it. It was the beginning of the new semester and busy was steady with similar things. As he heaved his pile onto her counter.

"Good morning to you too." She greated, a little sarcasm in her voice, but a still amused smile on her lips. "We do, are you just looking for something to carry your books or for a backpack?" There were a few ways they could go here. She also noticed that most of the books were new. "We also have a second hand and lightly damaged book section that has some of the books if you want to safe some money." She offered, having seen a lot of students get their literature new and shiney, but struggeling to afford it.

#they are XD #hacker codeq

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

"They'll get their field training but not without preparation first." Natasha said, softer. And Marcus wasn't wrong but they weren't in the buisness of getting recruits killed, they were supposed to prepare them best they could for survival. Dropping them into the woods without the proper knowledge wouldn't help their training at all. It would make them harbour resentment more then anything else and there was already enough blood on her hands and on Marcus' too, she persumed in some of her darker moments.

But Q didn't. And Natasha would like to keep it that way. She grinned at his comment. "Which is a few I thoroughly enjoy. I'd know a way to warm you up though." She batted her eyes in an overly flirtatious manner, then just wrapped him up in a hug.

Natasha raised an eyebrow and smacked him lightly against the arm. "I will do no such thing, Marcus." And she was serious. She'd been left in the wilderness of Siberia to fend for herself. Never knowing if the RedRoom had tired of and discarded her like so many other girls or if their experiments had faild and she was slowly dieing from whatever cocktail they'd pumped like fire into her veins.

She shook her head, dismissing the memories with a huff. "Plus I'm not responsible for field training. The agents will do just fine." A look outside told her all she needed to know. "That is the conundrum of the world isn't it? I'm not turning communistic... again. but sometimes a little more perspective on community and the general good would help." She returned his smile. "Are you warm enough now?"

#hacker codeq

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

She smiled up at him. "I know, but it's always nice to get you a little out of your comfort zone, Cap." A teasing smile touched her lips. "I might need to warn you. People are going to stare. And I don't mean because of our outstanding looks."

The mask, she slipped on so easily, always carefree, chatty, flirty, an easy smile on her lips, faltered. "Some of these people have clearance high enough to know my story. All of it. Not just the things I leaked. They know the actual backgrounds and are still twitchy that I'll turn cloak and stab them." Her voice was low, vulnerable, then she sighed and slipped the smile back on. "With Captain America around I'm sure everyone will be right as rain though."

Natasha grabbed her purse, nodding. "Ready." She tossed a pair of keys at him, labelled with an Iron Man key chain. One of Stark's. "You're driving and I thought you might enjoy this."

"You say that as if I should be offended." Natasha answered, teasing him when she noticed his insecuritie regarding his request. He was right. This wasn't exactly something that she liked. Drawing attention, crowded places, somewhere she couldn't just hide and slip a blade in between someones ribs. But she was also skilled and trained to appear comfortable in every situation.

"I'm quite capable in every situation as you should know by now, Steve." She stepped out from behind her closet, securing a silver spangled bracelet on her wrist that seemed to make a quiet wirring noise as it charged up.

She'd chosen a knee length, blue dress. The bodice and sleeves were fitted to her form and made up mostly of delicate looking lace overlapping the fabric sillouhette. The skirt flared out a little, loosely around her leg. Enough space to move, to dance, to fight and run if needed. Her heels clacked on the floor and her crimsom curls were half braided, curled and twisted into an elegant updo.

"Well, do I pass inspection?" She grinned up at Steve, despite her heels still a good part shorter then him. "And you worry too much. I wouldn't agree to go with you if I wouldn't want to. But I appreciate your concern."

#nat over here being vulnerable and stealing car keys at the same time #camerica

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

Natasha raised an eyebrow and smacked him lightly against the arm. "I will do no such thing, Marcus." And she was serious. She'd been left in the wilderness of Siberia to fend for herself. Never knowing if the RedRoom had tired of and discarded her like so many other girls or if their experiments had faild and she was slowly dieing from whatever cocktail they'd pumped like fire into her veins.

She shook her head, dismissing the memories with a huff. "Plus I'm not responsible for field training. The agents will do just fine." A look outside told her all she needed to know. "That is the conundrum of the world isn't it? I'm not turning communistic... again. but sometimes a little more perspective on community and the general good would help." She returned his smile. "Are you warm enough now?"

"Practical equipment that can replicate different weather scenarios. Learning how to safely handle weapons in rain, heat and wind can be essential for survival." Natasha spoke from experience but her smile was still radiant and smug if nothing else. "You know, I don't think I mind you getting wet all that much."

It almost seemed like Natasha was a little sad that he had put on her sweater. It didn't fit him quite right but it would do for now. "I figured that out when I saw you wringing out your wet sweater." She chuckled. "We might be stuck here for a little bit though. It still looks pretty rough outside."

#hacker-code q

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

Natasha remembered the split decision she'd had to make up on the sky scraper, grab the kid, kick the green creature's legs out, switch positions and then she was falling just alongside it. Pincer like maw splitting vertically as it snarled at her and a rightly placed Widowbite shocked it into submission.

Then it was just her, plummeting to the ground. It was alright, she mused, certainly a nicer way to go then she had hoped for or that she deserved.

Splat and gone.

Only the splat never came. Instead something suprisingly sturdy caught her and a honeyed voice made a snide remark. For a split second she thought it was Stark, but she could feel fabric and leather beneath her fingertips. And there was a suprising amount of green and gold and black.

The voice chattered on and with a shock, she recognized the tone, that easy demeanor... He'd taken Hawkeye, her partner, her closest friend, he still haunted her nightmares.

Natasha spun, locking one of her legs around his neck in one swift motion, hooking the other one behind it and squeezing her thighs shut around his leg, before lifting her upper body and with a suprising amount of force she flipped them, landing on her feet while Lokie went down. A widow bite followed, fully charged load of electricity unloading into his chest.

Send 💀 for my muse to rescue yours from a high fall

"... Dare I ask, if you at last fell for me, Agent Romanov," he teased. Mildly stunned that he'd managed to catch her, as he wasn't quite sure if he'd gotten the angle correct. He was also trying to prepare himself for whatever physical assault she was likely to lay into him- mortal or no, her fists left surprisingly deep bruises.

He looked up toward the height she had fallen from. "Anyone left alive up there that needs to be extinguished?" he added, curiously. Though he was trying to do right and keep the blood off of his hands- if the Black Widow was in need of leaving anyone behind, it likely meant they were a particularly dangerous individual.

#he decided to play with fire ^^ and a twitchy widow

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

Natasha sighed. "Yeah, Stanely is the best." Rolling her eyes playfully up at the former Soldier she gently smacked the back of her hand against his chest. Even if Bucky couldn't keep the names of their furbabies straight Greg was a whole lot better then calling the orange kitten a 'trash-baby' again, though that name was certainly accurate, considering in how much trouble he seemed to get himself into trouble after trouble.

"Don't you dare cave this time and feed her pancakes. Cats really shouldn't eat sweet things like that and you know it." Natasha warned with a chuckle.

"Stanley is a pretty great name for an old friend." She shook her head, red curls bouncing happly as he pulled her close and she nuzzled her cheeks against his shirt. It was soft and smelled clean and fresh with just a hint of his aftershave. It made her heart ache and sing all at the same time.

"Of course." It was easy to do nice things for him. Bucky had been through hell and back and most days life was still hard. She was glad that he could share these moments with her and didn't draw back into himself like he did when they first met and he showed up staining her carpet red. He still did that but at least now it was their carpet.

"How much are we betting that Alpine is going to combat the firealarm with her screaming once food is here?"

#smertzimy

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

Two years of aggressively trying to fit in, getting all the qualifications and documents set up that qualified her for being a 'normal person'. Most of her identity was fake. Her name, her background, her education levels, as she had never attended an actual school and 'learning how to manipulate and murder people' sadly hadn't made it on the list of appropriate school degrees as of yet.

Two years ago, Aiden Rushmore had found a girl lieing in a street, battered, broken, bleeding, half mad from whatever substances she'd been on... and stabbed. The girl didn't remember what came before, though they had found a full backstory matching a possible life she might have led. The bookstore owner decided to take her in and raise her as his own.

Now, six years later, she was flipping on the espresso machine in the little café area of the bookstore and stocking the display case with fresh pastries and snacks. There was a mix of sweet and hearty treats and once she was satisfied, passed it off to Carly, another employee, to take her space behind the register.

As the morning truged on, a new face showed up, just grabbing book after book. Another student from the looks of it. It was the beginning of the new semester and busy was steady with similar things. As he heaved his pile onto her counter.

"Good morning to you too." She greated, a little sarcasm in her voice, but a still amused smile on her lips. "We do, are you just looking for something to carry your books or for a backpack?" There were a few ways they could go here. She also noticed that most of the books were new. "We also have a second hand and lightly damaged book section that has some of the books if you want to safe some money." She offered, having seen a lot of students get their literature new and shiney, but struggeling to afford it.

@shieldagentnatasharomanoff semi-plotted starter

Two years of aggressively getting through all of the qualifications he needed to go to university and be a 'normal person' (according to his mother) had driven Marcus to the point of despising the woman who claimed to have given him a better life. That was what lead to him moving so far away for his eventual college life.

Rucksack over his shoulder, he wandered around the bookshop as he collected the books required for his first semester; the prices were ignored since Marcus still hadn't really grasped the fact that some people didn't have an endless pit of money that they could just fling at any desire. While his father's business had been sold off for less than their actual worth, they had still given his mother a fortune fit for a good life for her and her son... And about a hundred others if they so wished.

"Do you have canvas bags?" He asked as he set the sizeable pile on the counter; having come to the conclusion that they would not all fit into the bag he had brought and that a paperbag would be no better than holding them in his arms.

#hacker-codeq

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

"who would say you'd see less of me? You know that I'm not just staying at your house for convenience whenever I'm here right?" She chuckled, sitting down now, criss-cross. "Plus if you ever want to see something else I know an organisation who is always happy to recruit. And I'm not talking about Shield." And Natasha meant it, she would be delighted for Q to come and work with them but it also meant that he would have to leave the things he knew behind. And Natasha would never truly ask that of him, just as he wouldn't ask her to stop her missions, her endless quest of making some good for the world after she had hurt it so greatly.

"I suppose it does, maybe I'm just an old soul. I was born old, literally." Q smiled to himself as he often did when he made terrible jokes. His eyes wandered over to her, eyebrow raising as she spoke; trying to work out how best to reply. "Almost everyone who was at MI6 when I started is retiring or..." Dead. "And... And I'm one of the people who has been there the longest but I'm kind of young - I think - and I'm not sure how many changes of people I can deal with."

#hecker-codeq

[shieldagentnatasharomanoff]

Natasha laid down flat, palms to the floor in order to feel the soft fabric of the blanket he'd laid out... conjured out for her.

When everything else was falling apart, concentrate on the things that are constant. She remembered Madame Helena, her soft voice, decieving and motherly. The training came, the trauma followed, something deep and dark, rooted deeply within her mind, subdued until not too long ago. She could feel her wrist shattering under the weight of her Handlers walking stick, the pain stayed, the horrors changed, the Guardians snarling, the Wanderers human face as tentacles crushed her bones.

Her fingers felt the fabric beneath her, desperate for something to steady her against the tide raging through her.

"Yes." She breathed out, heavy, as if the air didn't reach her lunges quite right, dissipating before she was able to get what her human body so desperately needed.

Natasha was terrified, of her darkness, of the cause... of him.

"I've been selfish too." She spat out as she felt her heart constrict, the pictures still seared into her mind. The words just drawing out. "I've stuck around because it felt better. Have someone see me for who I am, knowing you would understand and always be so much worse then I am." It wasn't true. She cared for him, she liked their adventures, she felt safe with him.... only that she didn't anymore.

Natasha shuddered, her fingers curling into into the fabric until her knuckles whitened, as a thick ichor started to ooze out of her.

"You could reverse it." She said, her eyes opening. "You're certainly powerful enough. Use that time power of yours for something good for a change."

There was an eternal heaviness in her limbs, dragging her down as she said things. Things she meant, things she'd thought about. "You could turn it all the way back. GIve me a life, make up for one you'd ruined." And yes, he could. She knew, but that was something she never asked, darkest thoughts pouring out of her. "But what would a single life ease compared to everything else you've done."

She simply nodded. That seemed to ring true for every incarnation of Stephen Strange she had met through the years. He was a healer first and foremost, though this one had destroyed more than could ever be healed… And he cared far more deeply than was good for him. „There‘s no pause for you is there?“ She asked quietly as if she had just come to this conclusion herself. It was always guilt chasing guilt and Natasha knew what that felt like.

So she followed, leaving the familiar, artificial warmth of the conjured kitchen into the darkened chamber. Inky black darkness was disrupted by a glow that matched his breathing. Something akin to a summoning circle that she remembered from the night Thor had discovered Table Top games.

Roach took up space near them, hanging itself into the air and Natasha carefully brushed her fingers through the ripply, weirdly textured fabric. For both comfort and reassurance.

Then she took a breath and stepped through the runes into the circle. Immediately the pain came rushing back, it was tethered to her bones and threatening to swallow her whole. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to breathe through it. „Just for information. It‘s been almost a year since I left here last for me. So yeah… I left it too long. I‘m sorry.“ It had been anger… and pride. She had cut that tether, hurt and furious and eager to be rid of this place. The words sprang from gritted teeth as the Widow forced her legs to walk towards the blanket. To sit down, same position as him.

She wanted to ask if there was anything she could do to help but something about his quiet way of sitting told her he wouldn‘t let her or that maybe there truly was nothing to do and she just had to trust him.

#thread: misery loves company #ufff.... ouch... I love Strange please believe me XD