Thor: Ragnarok - The Avengers: Infinity War - The Avengers: Endgame
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Tony stark gave his life so we could make something of ours.
*EDITING SPRING OF 2023*
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You know when you think everything in your life is going great and you feel on top of the world and then one little thing happens that crushes it all? One little gust of wind and the card house you've spent ages putting together comes raging down, a mere lick of air and it's all over in a heartbeat. Like when you buy a new car and it breaks down for the first time. It makes you realize things just don't last, no matter how shiny they are. Even new cars get dusty.
I knew this feeling all too well. It had been a constant reminder throughout my life that after sunshine came rain and that happiness, no matter how wonderful and true, was really everything but permanent. Being happy meant walking a thin line that was ready to snap at any moment. Trying to balance yourself on the rope while praying for it not to break didn't always end up the way you hoped and sometimes you ended up on the floor with a sore ass and a crowd of people laughing in your face.
I didn't quite know how to define the relationship between me and Thor. I slept in his bed when he wanted me to, made him food whenever he desired and he looked at me like nobody had ever looked at me before, like I was a rare diamond or an exotic flower. I bought cook books at the local bookstore so I could pretend to know how to cook, made an effort in regards to my appearance and I continued to train with Steve nearly every morning to improve my agility, flexibility and endurance.
I didn't know what I was to Thor and what he was to me, but I knew he liked me a lot and hell, I liked him too. More than I ever thought I would.
In hindsight, I figured the subconscious part of my brain probably knew my luck was running out, but I just didn't want to admit it. I knew ignoring the nagging feeling was only just a way of passing time, like trying to protect yourself from the rain using a paper umbrella. Sooner or later, the thin, fragile material would start to waste away and eventually, you would get wet.
I didn't just get wet. I drowned.
The dreams came back much stronger than before. I don't even think I could classify them as dreams anymore at this point, because I hardly knew to tell the difference between reality and what I saw during my short periods of sleep. Night terrors were a better way of describing these visions that occurred to me every single night for almost two weeks straight.
They weren't like the dreams I'd ever had before. This wasn't a scary clown chasing me down a hallway, or a giant spider hanging from the ceiling above my bed. It wasn't even like the dreams I had after Ragnarok, Hela's thoughts and ideas projected through me during all hours of the night. I couldn't really explain what I saw, because I never recalled actually seeing anything. It was just an ominous feeling, building pressure, like the feeling you get when somebody is standing close behind you.
