They say the clothes make the man - or the god. But sometimes, they do the most for his friends. (Or, a tale of all the times someone wore Thor's clothes and the adventures necessitating such a development.) Everything from fluff to angst to action, all primarily focused around character interaction. Not necessarily Age of Ultron compliant.

'In the white of the world/ Hope is a bird locked in his chest.' A song for Bran Stark.

Sometimes he tipped his head back to the dingy street-lamps – or the stars, if he was very lucky; the Man had worn a star on his chest – and wondered if there would ever be orders again. Orders, and the metallic coffin with the burning cold that always brought back the darkness. (Or, the Winter Soldier discovers another piece of his past.)

'It's my choice, and it doesn't matter if I get hurt.' Bucky hadn't shot him or punched him or stabbed him. That had been the Winter Soldier. Bucky had pulled him from a burning river. Bucky had saved his life. (Winter Soldier fall-out. Natasha tries to dissuade Steve from going after the man that nearly killed him. It goes as well as can be expected.)

'Thanks,' Steve murmurs, rolling to his feet. For a moment, he blinks down at me, yawning, and I stare up at him. We are only Steve and Natasha, cocooned in halo of dust and light. (Post-Winter Soldier speculation. Not exactly shipping.)

'I'm not gonna fight you,' he gasped, the words no more than a breath. Tears blurred the world. 'You're my friend.' Merciless fingers fisted in his collar as icy eyes nailed him to the deck. 'You're my mission.' (The helicarrier scene from Steve's perspective. Slightly heart-breaking.)

Loki falls. Thor catches and lets go. 'A blasted Sun sweeps withered stone, but Thor is warmer over me; his heartbeat echoes in the World Tree, above my bursting, blistered bones.' (Loki's death.) (A much belated birthday gift for CrackinAndProudOfIt.)

A Short poem about Snape. [My first fic - ancient history.]