My brain works weird & I like the Avengers. That seemed like enough reason to try and kill my writers block by writing Avengers drabbles. Suggestions/requests are super awesome.
Tony couldn't sleep, even more than usual. Pepper had forced him to his room (some nonsense about seventy-two straight hours being too much work) and ordered him to sleep. Of course, this only made the already elusive concept extra-impossible. He pulled out his phone.
Tony: AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!
Bruce: What?
Clint: If this is a joke, Tony...
Natasha: No, Clint it's my turn to beat him up.
Steve: Everyone stop! Tony where should we assemble.
THOR: YES, WHAT IS THE PLACE OF MEETING?
Tony: My room I'm building a pillow fort. :)
Clint: ...
Natasha: ...
Clint: Rock paper scissors when we get there?
Natasha: You're on.
Tony: For what? o.o
Clint: Who gets to kill you.
Tony: YOU WILL NEVER OVERTHROW THE BLANKET KING!
The Avengers all arrived at Tony's room around the same time (sans Bruce who had locked himself in a Hulk-proof room) and stared at a Taj Mahal of pillow forts.
Clint and Natasha were playing rock-paper-scissors. They tied three times before Natasha won. She had a murderous gleam in her eyes.
Tony stuck his head out of the blanket pile as they approached. "TRAITORS YOU COME TO OVERTHROW THE BLANKET KING!"
The Avengers shared a confused look. It was three in the morning and it was Tony who had called them there. Natasha started conspicuously cleaning a long knife. Tony seemed to squeak when he saw it, and withdrew back into the fort.
"How do we get him out of there without hurting him?" Steve groaned.
"Does not hurting him HAVE to be a priority?" Clint ground out. "Because I have several excellent ideas-"
"-as do I-" Natasha cut in.
"-but they all end with Tony as an unrecognizable carcass somewhere in the Pacific."
Thor, who until now had been silent, rumbled, "ON ASGARD, WHEN A WARRIOR REBELS AGAINST HIS COMRADES, WE MAKE AN EXAMPLE OF HIM."
Steve seemed hesitant to shrug. "Can't you just tranquilize him or something?"
"Sure, I can do that!" Natasha said, seeming entirely too eager. A small dart flew from one of her bracelets (no one commented on how she apparently wore them to bed) and into the depths of the pillow fort. There was a long pause, then a thud.
"Your turn, Hawkeye."
"Net arrow?" he asked hopefully.
"Net arrow."
Hawkeye looked like a kid on Christmas. The arrow, too, disappeared with a dull thwap noise.
Steve looked confused. "What purpose does tying him up serve if he's unconscious?"
"It's for when he wakes up," the two assassins said in unison.
Natasha whispered directions in Thor's ear while Clint dashed off to retrieve Tony's supply of spray paint. Steve was feeling rather helpless to prevent whatever horrible thing they had planned, and after debating for a moment, decided to just go back to bed. Tony had it coming, pissing them off.
And that is how the next morning (or later that morning), a very confused New York woke up to see that billionaire Tony Stark, AKA Iron Man, was trapped in a net on top of his own tower, with some very confusing graffiti spray-painted beneath him:
All hail the blanket king!
okay, that was the first little drabble. I know it probably wasn't good but as I said this is mostly so I can practice improving my writing. As I said before, reviews are awesome, requests/suggestions are extra awesome because they give me stuff to work with. :)
-Holly