We were never trained for this...

Magic, Myths and Legends. Nothing we were ever trained for. And yet here i am, once a woman and now a man. It's a daily struggle for one who has used their body as I have. The one thing that has always been consistent in my life has changed. SHIELD treated me like some guinea pig and at the same time as if I carried the plague. Now that SHIELD is no more, I live my life how I will it. Although, sometimes, I'm not quite sure how I want to live. For one who is destined to be alone it makes for a very lonely life. ((RP Blog for Genderbent Natasha Romanoff via magic. FC Caleb Landry Jones. Independent. Multi-verse. Mun and muse are of the age of consent. NSFW))

[the-black-widower-blog]

World at Large (Closed)

[the-black-widower-blog]

Nat had gone in with the hope that maybe, just maybe, the compound would have a logical layout. Tactical. Defensible. Sensible. He was partially right. It wasn’t a maze, at least. But he was fraying, he was at the end of his rope, and he was wandering without a clue. Maybe he should have found Coulson first. Maybe May, but she would have shot first and asked questions second. And he didn’t want an extra hole on top of everything. Hell, he had two things that proved who he was. The Bites and his, well, her SHIELD badge. Things, if who he was trying to speak to was skeptical, anyone could have looted from a corpse. He was so far up shit creek without a paddle or a canoe. He didn’t even have a life vest. He wanted to sigh, but the need for silence over-ruled his urge.

He continued to walk the barely lit hallways, trying to find the dorms, or bedrooms, or whatever. Sleeping people. Someone. God, he needed anyone at that point. He was fairly sure he was shaking, but he didn’t dare pause to check. And then he heard a sound. Several sounds. In succession. Footsteps. He rapidly slipped around the corner as the person walking came into view, he only hoped they hadn’t seen him before he could identify them. He waited and watched, the face was somewhat recognizable. Definitely Coulson’s team. It wasn’t May, he knew what Melinda looked like. So it was either the hacker or the biochemist. His hand reflexively jerked as he rested it atop his holster. Apparently, it was enough movement to catch the woman’s attention.

"Please don’t shoot me. I’m SHIELD. Or I was. Not HYDRA." He responded to her, his voice just as soft, and he stepped out into the light. He held his hands up and really, really hoped she wasn’t trigger happy. Or armed. Or a screamer. Shit, the whole idea was a terrible one. "I am, or, well, was, Agent Romanoff. I really hope you are Agent Simmons and are not going to scream. Please don’t scream. I need help." He stopped babbling for a moment and closed his eyes, trying to pull himself together. He took a deep breath and centered himself.

"Look, I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. I just need help figuring this out. I’m sure you’re well aware that Agent Romanoff is a woman. And I’m clearly not. I met with an 0-8-4." He never let his hands drop, still holding them in the air. He was wearing stolen clothes that didn’t fit him right, and he probably looked like hell.

[onlytryingtohelp-archive]

Jemma’s breath caught as someone actually answered her calling out into the darkness. She hadn’t been being paranoid then, except now she was alone in a darkened hallway with an unknown person who very likely had a gun and could shoot her dead long before she could scream for help. At least Koenig would know when her lanyard hit the floor. That wasn’t a comforting thought. 

Her mind flashed through twenty different scenarios before the person had even gotten out their first sentence. HYDRA had found them, this was a HYDRA invasion and she was going to die. Or Talbot had found them and they were US army coming to arrest them. Or Ward had escaped his cell-wait, what? That didn’t even make sense. Then she clicked that the person said they were SHIELD. That didn’t mean they were, but if they were HYDRA pretending to be SHIELD then at the very least they weren’t likely to shoot first and she might survive the night yet. 

She knew she should have known better than to wander around even The Playground without at least an ICER about her person, but on a journey from the med bay to the kitchen how was she supposed to know she might need it? She exhaled almost shakily and frowned at the dark shape that was still speaking. “Agent Romanoff?” she questioned, raising her eyebrows a little (a lot). 

An 0-8-4 that could turn someone from a man to a woman? No-one could have expected anyone to buy that story, it was just fantastical enough to be true, but that didn’t mean she was okay with it. “I…am Agent Simmons, yes. How did you get in here?” Looking like that Koenig wouldn’t have let her-him(?) in, right?

[the-black-widower-blog]

"Yes, Agent Romanoff." Nat said, carefully, and oh so slowly, reaching for his badge to show her. At least she didn't look armed. But she could still scream, and she looked about as terrified as he felt. He stepped further into the light, holding up his badge, and not letting his other hand even hover near his weapon. The Widow's Bites were hooked around his belt, because they didn't quite fit his new wrists.

"Thank god." He murmured when she affirmed she was in fact Agent Simmons. And then she asked how he had gotten in. He had two options, lie, and possibly get caught in a lie. Or tell the truth and look suspicious as hell.

"I ... back-hacked the door panel. I have no other way to contact Coulson, or I would have done that first. You all are as off-grid as the rest of us have been. Trying to wait for it to blow-over. Barton would have a way to contact Coulson, but he's in Europe somewhere, his cover blew when I leaked those files." He dropped his badge and kicked it over to her. 

"Please, I need to figure this out. I know it sounds bizarre. But I need help, and I'm afraid May would shoot me before anything else. And I know just how suspicious Coulson is right now, hell, I am too. If it would make you feel better, find him. I'll stay right here. He has ways to know it's me." He was really rambling, wow, but he was desperate. 

[legatxs-deactivated20151101]

"Look at me. Just look at me and stay awake. Can you do that?"

Upon hearing Nat’s voice, Maria did her best to open her eyes, struggling against the harsh sunlight and the searing pain that was coursing through her body. After a moment of struggling to keep them open, Maria gave her head a shake, cringing at the pain the simple movement brought her. “I can’t,” she mumbled, “Hurts…”

the-black-widower

[the-black-widower-blog]

"Я только властная, когда мне нужно быть." Nat said softly, changing his course and rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand. “You need to stay with me, Maria.” He adds, moving his other hand to her hair. “Я боюсь. Испугавшись. Я не могу потерять тебя." He murmured, trying to tell her why he was being bossy. He gently pulled his fingers through her hair, running his fingers against her scalp. "Please, stay with me. Come on." He murmured, trying to encourage her.

[legatxs-deactivated20151101]

“Вы не собираетесь терять меня…” Maria murmured, wanting nothing more than to just close her eyes and sleep. “I’m strong than I look, you should know that.” She groaned, “Not gonna leave…”

[the-black-widower-blog]

Nat continued to card his hands through her hair in a soothing gesture. Despite her words, he knew he could lose her at any moment. Her injuries were bad enough, and he was so fucking scared.

"I know you're strong, I know that." He whispered to her, squeezing her hand. He didn't feel like he had words for her other responses, because he needed her to believe that she wouldn't leave. But he knew the reality, and that reality scared him.

[the-black-widower-blog]

Counting Stars

[the-black-widower-blog]

"Because … because I couldn’t keep hiding, and watching you take the risks you were. I couldn’t keep watching you destroy yourself, even if it was my fault. I couldn’t let you destroy yourself." Nat said quietly, still keeping his back turned.

"I couldn’t risk you. I needed to take care of it. I needed to keep you safe." His voice was still quiet, and he finally made the motion to leave until she spoke. Until she asked him to stay. 

"I’m here, I won’t leave until you want me to." He said, turning back to Maria, but still hovering near the door.

[legatxs-deactivated20151101]

"Just come here," Maria murmured, grabbing his wrist as tightly as she could once he was within reach, "Sei terribile. Perché dovrei fidarmi mai di nuovo?” She snapped at him, her grip tightening, “This wasn’t because of you, I hope you know. Don;t flatter yourself.”

[the-black-widower-blog]

Nat moved closer to her, he wasn't about to deny her anything, not after what he had pulled. He let her take his wrist, but he was having a hard time looking at her.

"Ti ho dato alcun motivo per fidarsi di me adesso. Non voglio nemmeno chiedere la vostra fiducia. Io non lo merito." He said softly, still avoiding her gaze.

"I've still done you a great disservice. I've done the unthinkable." He added, looking at the floor.

[ironladytonistark-archive]

"Okay... Okay, hospital. Hospital, now."

Hurt roleplay starters.

"There’s no— There’s no need for that, Nat."

[the-black-widower-blog]

"Your free personality is going to give me a goddamn ulcer." Nat growled, standing by the side of the car while she got in the car, making sure she was all right. When he was sure of it, he walked around to the other side and got in the driver’s seat. "I’m not taking any risks, Toni. Because I can easily see everything that could go wrong." He added, softly.

[ironladytonistark-archive]

"You love my free personality. I’m a really enjoyable person." She shifted a little, grimacing at the pain that shot through her leg. Once somewhat comfortable, Toni leaned her head back and closed her eyes. "Nothing could go wrong, it’s a fucking scrape."

[the-black-widower-blog]

"If it was a scrape, you wouldn't have left a pint of blood in the Tower, and another half pint on me." He was exaggerating a little, but he was so worried and frightened that perhaps he wasn't thinking clearly.

[ironladytonistark-archive]

"What's this?"

Send “What’s this?” and I will generate a number to see what item your muse has found in mine’s belongings.

"—No, the real question is, where did you find that vibrator?"

[the-black-widower-blog]

"Because the world at large needs me to be wearing pants." He said, grabbing the belt and putting it on. "Seriously, I do need pants to face the world." He added, looking up from clasping the belt. "Do you think Barton stole my pants?"

[ironladytonistark-archive]

"Do I look to you like someone who knows who stole your pants, Nat? Though, to be fair, that would be my first assumption. No one has a reason to steal your pants, but Barton is unreasonable by nature.”

[the-black-widower-blog]

"Even my shorts are gone. Every pair of pants and pants-like clothing. Gone. There's a void in my closet." He sighed, glancing down at Toni's pants and their ill-fitting nature. "I really want my pants back." He added. "How do you even take off with twenty-three pairs of pants and shorts and not have JARVIS notice you?"

[the-black-widower-blog]

What position does your character sleep in? ( i.e; stomach, side, back, etc. ) Describe why they do this — optional. He tends to sleep on his side, curled into something not unlike a half-circle. He sleeps best when he has one hand under the pillow, wrapped around a weapon. It's like a security blanket to him. He has been known to sleep in every position, though.

Does your character have any noteworthy features? Freckles? Dimples? A scar somewhere unusual? etc. He had very distinct freckles as a child, but freckles were too identifiable, and they were removed. There are the obvious scars. The scar left from the Winter Soldier. The scar from DC. The small scar on his hairline from New York. There is also a ropy scar from his tailbone to part-way up his back, where a target attempted to damage his spine, and the dagger was drug downwards. There is the nearly faded scar on the inside of his right knee, where a chunk of rebar nearly shattered his knee. Several smaller scars, knife wounds mostly.

Do they have any verbal tics? Do they have trouble pronouncing certain words or getting their thoughts across clearly? Head wounds tend to jumble his words quite a bit. Concussions mess with his verbal processes more than they probably should. He's trained himself out of most everything else. Except when he is extremely upset, he tends to mis-pronounce simple words.

What are their chief tension areas? Lower and mid-back is where he carries most of his tension, sometimes it can bleed into his shoulders, but not terribly often.

If you were to pick one song — and only one song — to describe your character, what would it be and why? The Sound of Silence - Simon and Garfunkel. The eeriness of life that is portrayed in that song. The walking through the darkness while the world around you moves on. The way the lyrics could easily be describing brain-washing.

How does your character perceive themselves? Positive? Negative? Neutral? Nat is who people need him to be. That doesn't leave much room for self-reflection. When he does reflect, he hates who he is. He hates what he is. But he also knows he was created to do the job he does, and that the world needs him. So he continues, and leaves the self-reflecting for the retired.

Are they a quick thinker or do they need time to sort through their thoughts? Nat is an extremely quick thinker, being genetically altered to be as such. But even he gets flustered and shaken, and when he does, he tends to slow down and need time to formulate what needs to happen.

Does your character dream or are their nights filled with an empty blackness? Describe a dream they’ve had or a night they couldn’t sleep and what they did to preoccupy their time. Answered.

If they had a choice, would they prefer a subway or a bus for public transportation? As Nat is an extremely tactical thinker, he would much prefer the bus. More defensible, space and freedom. The subway is just not a sound tactical choice for survival.

What do they think of creation? Do they believe in evolution or do they believe in God? What is their religion like? Nat was eight years old when she decided there was no such thing as a higher power. That gods did not exist, because, by her reasoning, if there was a God, the Red Room would not have existed. He knows the evolution is an actual thing, based on his own experiences. He sees no time or effort is worth putting into religion, he needs no religious moral code, even if he bothered with it.

Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has. Animals that are typically prey fear him. There was something predatory in what the Red Room did to him. Conversely, he tends to confuse animals that are typically predators. He has an unnatural fondness for salted caramel. He really enjoys the movie the Watchmen, as well as the comic. Tomatoes and tomato-based things have a somewhat metallic taste to him. He can code in most programming languages, but he really hates Java.

Have they ever been so overwhelmed they had to stop and take a break from something? Occasionally this does happen, and he tends to finish the job and then go take time for himself before he can continue anything else. This tends to involve baked sweets and vodka.

Are they a team player or do they prefer to be solo? He still prefers solo, but the Avengers showed him the beauty of team work. He really enjoys working with them.

Can they multi-task or must they focus on one subject at a time? Nat is the master of all multi-taskers, but he was designed that way. Once in a while he will need to focus entirely on one thing, which he is also able to do, for short periods.

What are their best school subjects? What are their worst? List five of each. If he/sahe had gone to school, his best ones would be Languages, Math/Physics, History, Psychology and Gym. His worst would be Art, Biology, Music, Health, Home-Ec.

Is your character an introvert or an extrovert? How do they handle big crowds of people? At his base nature, Nat is an introvert. Unfortunately, that doesn't help with his job. He has trained himself and been trained to behave like an extrovert. It comes in handy. Large crowds make him slightly nervous, but not so much that it really bothers him.

Are they a leader, do they prefer to follow, or would they rather just stay on the sidelines altogether? He's the kind or person that will only lead if no one else is there, he prefers to follow. 

If your character was suddenly challenged, would they rather run away or stay and fight? Stand and fight, which has gotten him into plenty of trouble.

If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would that person be and why? Considering it's his day job, well, it's kind of funny. If he could go back in time and take one life, it would be Ivan Petrovich. As that was the man who sold her into the Red Room.

Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why? To be a woman again, he will never stop wanting to be a woman again. For his entire memory to be wiped, a clean slate, a fresh start, he wonders what it would be like to build himself up, rather than be built, a purely selfish wish. The ability to right the worst wrongs he has committed, to clean his own ledger.

Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone? By necessity, it takes him a while to warm up to someone.

Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart? He can make romance happen any where he wants, but affection goes a long way for him. Just, casually enjoying company and gentleness. Truth and affection.

Does your character have any enemies? If so, who and why? His biggest enemy is himself, because he knows he can be turned against anyone if the right key is turned. Other than that, he has an awful lot of enemies.

Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks? He really enjoys cross-dressing. That's pretty much it. If it is the right person, being tied up.

How does your character prepare for bed? Do they sleep at all or can they stay awake for days on end without trouble? Answered

If your character had one thing to say to their parents before they died, what would it be? Answered

Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets? Nat does not fear death, it will come for him one day. He will, of course, have regrets. He'll never be able to clear his ledger, and he'll leave people behind.

Does your character get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Why? Nat loves his quiet time, his solitude and silence recharge him. His world, his life, is so chaotic that he needs some peace to right himself.

Finally; if your character was forced to eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would they choose and why? Lamb curry and rice. It's his favorite food, and enough of a meal he can keep going on it forever.

[the-black-widower-blog]

9, 26, 27

9. Does your character dream or are their nights filled with an empty blackness? Describe a dream they’ve had or a night they couldn’t sleep and what they did to preoccupy their time. Frankly, it's a toss up. If Nat is under a lot of stress, more than usual, or something rather bad is happening/has happened, there are dreams. Night terrors. He'll wake up in a cold sweat, and avoid sleep for the next few days until his head is on straight. Due to the sheer amount of tampering with his mind and psyche, he doesn't usually dream except in those circumstances. If he ever dreamed before the Red Room, he doesn't remember. On the nights he avoids sleep due to a prior night terror, he tends to do strenuous physical activity, or strenuous mental activity, depending on the situation. Hacking secure servers is a favorite, as is Tai Chi or shadow boxing. He picked up the Tai Chi from Melinda May.

26. How does your character prepare for bed? Do they sleep at all or can they stay awake for days on end without trouble? People who are unused to sleeping near or around Nat tend to find this extremely disconcerting, but he quite literally just shuts himself off. He was forced to learn to sleep anywhere and everywhere, and it's grown to the point where he just turns himself out, passes out, and moves on. He is, however, an extremely light sleeper, out of necessity. Due to his training and life, he can function perfectly without sleep for seven or eight days straight. If he cat naps, he can go three weeks on an hour or two every twenty-four. The longest he's stayed awake without any sleep was twenty days, and it was an extreme situation that did not end well for anyone involved. His true limit is seventeen days, twelve before he really starts to break down.

27. If your character had one thing to say to their parents before they died, what would it be? Before the Red Room really had a grasp on his/her mind, she would often go to sleep wishing she knew what her parents looked like. She often wished she could ask them why. That didn't last long, and up until her joining SHIELD, there just wasn't room in her crowded mind to formulate thoughts of her parents. Of course, once free, she attempted to track down anything pertaining to them. She had mounds of questions, but really, he one true wish and question she wanted answered was what we they like. What did they look like. Now, he tends not to dwell too deeply, but every so often he just wonders. He wonders if he was a child of convenience, if his parents loved each other. Small, minute details. The Red Room stole more than his life, and he all too often is left with unease when he dwells.

[edhelernil-a-deactivated2018020]

30 Uncommon Character Development Questions ( send me a number )

What position does your character sleep in? ( i.e; stomach, side, back, etc. ) Describe why they do this — optional.

Does your character have any noteworthy features? Freckles? Dimples? A scar somewhere unusual? etc.

Does your character have an accent? What does it sound like?

Do they have any verbal tics? Do they have trouble pronouncing certain words or getting their thoughts across clearly?

What are their chief tension areas? 

If you were to pick one song — and only one song — to describe your character, what would it be and why?

How does your character perceive themselves? Positive? Negative? Neutral?

Are they a quick thinker or do they need time to sort through their thoughts?

Does your character dream or are their nights filled with an empty blackness? Describe a dream they’ve had or a night they couldn’t sleep and what they did to preoccupy their time.

If they had a choice, would they prefer a subway or a bus for public transportation?

What do they think of creation? Do they believe in evolution or do they believe in God? What is their religion like?

Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has.

Have they ever been so overwhelmed they had to stop and take a break from something? 

Are they a team player or do they prefer to be solo?

Can they multi-task or must they focus on one subject at a time?

What are their best school subjects? What are their worst? List five of each.

Is your character an introvert or an extrovert? How do they handle big crowds of people?

Are they a leader, do they prefer to follow, or would they rather just stay on the sidelines altogether?

If your character was suddenly challenged, would they rather run away or stay and fight?

If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would that person be and why?

Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?

Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone?

Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart?

Does your character have any enemies? If so, who and why?

Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks?

How does your character prepare for bed? Do they sleep at all or can they stay awake for days on end without trouble?

If your character had one thing to say to their parents before they died, what would it be?

Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets?

Does your character get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Why?

Finally; if your character was forced to eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would they choose and why?

[the-black-widower-blog]

ｈｕｒｔｓ| ｓｔａｒｔｅｒｓ

"Never give up, it's such a wonderful life."

"Some things are best left unspoken."

"Do you know how it feels to let you go?"

"I feel so lost."

"Talk to me. Tell me your lies."

"Just take my hands. I'll make it all better."

"I don't feel safe."

"All my life I've felt this way, but I could never find the words to say."

"Since the day I left I see your face in every crowd."

"I feel lust like a sick disease."

"I know you need me too."

"I'm going home."

"Remember when it was just you and me?"

"Don't bring me back to life."

"Such a beautiful lie."

"I need somebody to die for."

"Love is not that easy!"

"Someday when you wake up happy you'll thank the Lord that I'm gone."

"It's a long way down when you're alone."

"I'll forget about you."

"Don't cry, please don't cry."

"I came so close to giving up."

"When I go, you will be someone new."

"There is no turning back."

"I've got nothing left to live for, but no reason yet to die."

"I see you when I close my eyes."

"Can you hear me?"

"I'm tired of being afraid."

"You'll be better off on your own."

"All I want for Christmas is New Year's Day."

"Home is where the heart is."

"You know I love you."

"We all get hurt by love."

"I can't sleep."

"I will give you my devotion until the end of time."

"I have no reason to forgive you."

"I'm afraid of myself."

"Nothing that I do will ever be enough for you."

"I wish that I was stronger."

"I could never live without you."

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Why are you out by yourself so late?"

"I'll never leave you again."

"My heart is empty."

"There's nothing left to lose."

"I'd rather be lonely than by your side."

"Look at what you've done!"

"Don't leave tonight."

"I can't hold my head up high with the weight of the world on my shoulders."

"You will never be forgotten with me by your side."

"Carry me away from the pain."

"Is this the end of the love that had just begun?"

"Things we never say are often best left alone."

"I can't cry any more tears."

"I wish I could stay with you tonight."

"Things are going to get better."

"Things aren't going to get better."

"Time waits for no one, so do you want to waste some time tonight?"

"I've been waiting my whole life to tell you how I feel."

"There is no light inside of a broken heart."

"No matter where they take me, death I will survive."

"Don't let go."

"I need you."

"I don't need this life."

"Stay with me. Please."

[ihavetogogoodbye-deactivated201]

my writing style could best be described as “probably more commas than is entirely necessary”

[the-black-widower-blog]

World at Large (Closed)

You know, breaking into the Playground by himself, armed with two Glocks, three knives and a mostly broken garrote, was probably not his best plan. Not that he planned on hurting anyone, Coulson would have his hide. But he needed someone in the compound, and he needed people to not know exactly what was going on. He was bruised, bloody, and extraordinarily shaken up. He was beginning to think that maybe another bout of brain-washing would be more welcome than this entire situation.

He slammed his fist against the wall beside the panel. He didn’t have the code, he didn’t have anything, and he wanted in as undetected as possible. Because, frankly, he was expecting to be shot on sight if he was found. He wasn’t thinking clearly enough for this, his head wasn’t on straight. Of course his head wasn’t on straight, he had been inexplicably changed from a woman to a man. Less than twelve hours ago. He wanted to know why, he wanted to know how, and he wanted to be a her again. And there wasn’t a SHIELD to turn to, and the Avengers were too tied up. He could only hope that Coulson’s team held the answer. Well, that his Sci-Ops had a clue. He seemed to recall a biochemist, or something. SHIELD files had listed Coulson’s team dealing with an 0-8-4. And if we he had just experienced wasn’t an 0-8-4, he was doomed. Damned. 

Simmons, that was the name of the agent he needed, and he turned his attention back to the panel, finally managing to back-hack the damned thing with his damaged equipment. The doors slid open, and now he was left with the lovely task of navigating the compound without blue-prints, or even a clue as to what the agent he was looking for looked like. At, oh, it was already four A.M. Yeah, he was about to die. He slipped in before the doors closed and began prowling the compound.

[onlytryingtohelp-archive]

Not for the first time, Jemma jerked away, gasping for breath and with her fingers clenched tightly into fists, as though she might be able to will herself to go back in time and hold onto Fitz just a little tighter or swim just a little faster and then she might wake in a universe where her sudden wakefulness wasn’t met with the low hum of hospital machinery and her back didn’t ache from trying to sleep on the couch (that had been added in since she started falling asleep sitting up) because Fitz was no longer in a coma, he wasn’t stuck in a bed, surrounded by tubes and wires and machines that were working to keep him alive long enough for his brain to heal. 

She exhaled a deep sigh, slender fingers scrubbing over her face to wake herself up. She needed to go to her room, she knew, to sleep in a real bed, if only for a couple of hours but facing a strange room in a strange location, dark and alone…she’d rather sleep on the couch. She rearranged herself, trying to get back to being comfortable, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t seem to get back to sleep. There was still a tightness in her chest and the white noise didn’t seem to be helping relax her. She swung her legs off the couch, pushed the blanket off (someone must have put that on her after she fell asleep) and caught her kindle as her elbow knocked it off the arm. She set it down and stood, stretching. 

She padded softly out of the medical room and towards the kitchen, hoping a glass of milk would help. She glanced at her watch. Four a.m. She could get in at least three more hours sleep, if she was lucky. Out of the corner of her eye, the biochemist saw something move, making her jump and whirl around, but there was nothing there that she could see. Jumping at shadows had become almost a hobby. Still, she swallowed the lump that had raised into her throat and whispered a soft, “Hello?” 

[the-black-widower-blog]

Nat had gone in with the hope that maybe, just maybe, the compound would have a logical layout. Tactical. Defensible. Sensible. He was partially right. It wasn't a maze, at least. But he was fraying, he was at the end of his rope, and he was wandering without a clue. Maybe he should have found Coulson first. Maybe May, but she would have shot first and asked questions second. And he didn't want an extra hole on top of everything. Hell, he had two things that proved who he was. The Bites and his, well, her SHIELD badge. Things, if who he was trying to speak to was skeptical, anyone could have looted from a corpse. He was so far up shit creek without a paddle or a canoe. He didn't even have a life vest. He wanted to sigh, but the need for silence over-ruled his urge.

He continued to walk the barely lit hallways, trying to find the dorms, or bedrooms, or whatever. Sleeping people. Someone. God, he needed anyone at that point. He was fairly sure he was shaking, but he didn't dare pause to check. And then he heard a sound. Several sounds. In succession. Footsteps. He rapidly slipped around the corner as the person walking came into view, he only hoped they hadn't seen him before he could identify them. He waited and watched, the face was somewhat recognizable. Definitely Coulson's team. It wasn't May, he knew what Melinda looked like. So it was either the hacker or the biochemist. His hand reflexively jerked as he rested it atop his holster. Apparently, it was enough movement to catch the woman's attention.

"Please don't shoot me. I'm SHIELD. Or I was. Not HYDRA." He responded to her, his voice just as soft, and he stepped out into the light. He held his hands up and really, really hoped she wasn't trigger happy. Or armed. Or a screamer. Shit, the whole idea was a terrible one. "I am, or, well, was, Agent Romanoff. I really hope you are Agent Simmons and are not going to scream. Please don't scream. I need help." He stopped babbling for a moment and closed his eyes, trying to pull himself together. He took a deep breath and centered himself.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. I just need help figuring this out. I'm sure you're well aware that Agent Romanoff is a woman. And I'm clearly not. I met with an 0-8-4." He never let his hands drop, still holding them in the air. He was wearing stolen clothes that didn't fit him right, and he probably looked like hell.

[the-black-widower-blog]

// I got upset that I killed my lavender plant, but it wasn't me. My cat, Rocky, HAS BEEN EATING IT. ALL OF IT. HE KEEPS EATING IT. :|

[the-black-widower-blog]

//Having an existential crisis at 4am is not a recommended course of action. 

[the-black-widower-blog]

World at Large (Closed)

You know, breaking into the Playground by himself, armed with two Glocks, three knives and a mostly broken garrote, was probably not his best plan. Not that he planned on hurting anyone, Coulson would have his hide. But he needed someone in the compound, and he needed people to not know exactly what was going on. He was bruised, bloody, and extraordinarily shaken up. He was beginning to think that maybe another bout of brain-washing would be more welcome than this entire situation.

He slammed his fist against the wall beside the panel. He didn't have the code, he didn't have anything, and he wanted in as undetected as possible. Because, frankly, he was expecting to be shot on sight if he was found. He wasn't thinking clearly enough for this, his head wasn't on straight. Of course his head wasn't on straight, he had been inexplicably changed from a woman to a man. Less than twelve hours ago. He wanted to know why, he wanted to know how, and he wanted to be a her again. And there wasn't a SHIELD to turn to, and the Avengers were too tied up. He could only hope that Coulson's team held the answer. Well, that his Sci-Ops had a clue. He seemed to recall a biochemist, or something. SHIELD files had listed Coulson's team dealing with an 0-8-4. And if we he had just experienced wasn't an 0-8-4, he was doomed. Damned. 

Simmons, that was the name of the agent he needed, and he turned his attention back to the panel, finally managing to back-hack the damned thing with his damaged equipment. The doors slid open, and now he was left with the lovely task of navigating the compound without blue-prints, or even a clue as to what the agent he was looking for looked like. At, oh, it was already four A.M. Yeah, he was about to die. He slipped in before the doors closed and began prowling the compound.

[the-black-widower-blog]

Counting Stars

[the-black-widower-blog]

"I’m here, please, you need to calm down." Nat said, stopping where he was standing. He had no idea how to make this right, how to fix this. 

"The Red Room. They were going to take control of me and force me to kill you. All of you. But especially you. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to throw them off. I had to disappear." He said softly, his voice breaking half way through. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t hurt her further. If he left now, maybe she would think it was a dream.

"Nevermind all of that, I’ll leave. I’m sorry, Maria. Мария. I’m sorry." He said softly, turning to leave.

[legatxs-deactivated20151101]

"Why?" Maria asked, her voice raw from both lack of use prior to this moment as well as emotion. "Why now, after so long?"

As Nat’s voice broke, Maria closed her eyes once more, “You… you couldn’t… Tell me?” She asked, blinking, tears welling up in her eyes as she continued to stare him down.

"D-don’t leave," Maria snapped, "Please, I just… I need to know you’re actually here."

[the-black-widower-blog]

"Because ... because I couldn't keep hiding, and watching you take the risks you were. I couldn't keep watching you destroy yourself, even if it was my fault. I couldn't let you destroy yourself." Nat said quietly, still keeping his back turned.

"I couldn't risk you. I needed to take care of it. I needed to keep you safe." His voice was still quiet, and he finally made the motion to leave until she spoke. Until she asked him to stay. 

"I'm here, I won't leave until you want me to." He said, turning back to Maria, but still hovering near the door.

[legatxs-deactivated20151101]

"Look at me. Just look at me and stay awake. Can you do that?"

Upon hearing Nat’s voice, Maria did her best to open her eyes, struggling against the harsh sunlight and the searing pain that was coursing through her body. After a moment of struggling to keep them open, Maria gave her head a shake, cringing at the pain the simple movement brought her. “I can’t,” she mumbled, “Hurts…”

the-black-widower

[the-black-widower-blog]

"No. No sleep. Stay awake. Please." Nat said, running his thumb along her cheek. He needed her awake, he couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not after he had found her. Not after he had pulled her form that hell-hole. 

"I know you don’t, but you’ve got to. Please. If not for yourself, for me. I can’t lose you. I know you’re tired. I know you hurt. But you can’t sleep until they tell you that you can, please. пожалуйста." He added, squeezing her hand gently. "Stay with me. пожалуйста." He repeated. He needed her with him. He needed her with it. 

[legatxs-deactivated20151101]

“Прекратите говорить мне, что делать, Наташа.” Maria murmured back, a bite of anger in her tone though she kept her eyes closed. “You’re mean,” she groaned, struggling once more to open her eyes, “Просто дайте мне спать..”

[the-black-widower-blog]

"Я только властная, когда мне нужно быть." Nat said softly, changing his course and rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand. "You need to stay with me, Maria." He adds, moving his other hand to her hair. "Я боюсь. Испугавшись. Я не могу потерять тебя." He murmured, trying to tell her why he was being bossy. He gently pulled his fingers through her hair, running his fingers against her scalp. "Please, stay with me. Come on." He murmured, trying to encourage her.

[ironladytonistark-archive]

"Okay... Okay, hospital. Hospital, now."

Hurt roleplay starters.

"There’s no— There’s no need for that, Nat."

[the-black-widower-blog]

"It’s probably clotting, which, yes, is good. We’re not going to think of the other reason the bleeding might be slowing, get in the goddamn car or I will put you in there myself." He’s scared, and so he’s reacting. He’s being reactive and he might be getting a little angry, but he can’t help himself.

[ironladytonistark-archive]

"Okay, I do not like you when you’re frustrated with me. You’re too bossy. It clashes with my free personality.” But Toni got in the car anyway, because as stubborn as she was, she knew Nat was as well. And there was the added factor of him being way stronger than her, so really, this was a fight she couldn’t win. “I hope you realize you’re wasting a ride in my best car to take me to the hospital. When I don’t even need to go to the hospital.”

[the-black-widower-blog]

"Your free personality is going to give me a goddamn ulcer." Nat growled, standing by the side of the car while she got in the car, making sure she was all right. When he was sure of it, he walked around to the other side and got in the driver's seat. "I'm not taking any risks, Toni. Because I can easily see everything that could go wrong." He added, softly.