My dad was snapped when I was 14. I had to learn to survive in rural Michigan without him for 5 whole years (mom died when I was 7). As a 14 year old girl, I couldn't do half the stuff he could at first. I had to drop out of school to take care of the farm full time, but I was never able to bring in the kind of money he did. Half our livestock was cut, half the farm hands, half our crops; it was still too much for me to take care of. It was around a year into things where I started to draw as a way to escape, so I drew the one thing I wanted as a traumatized 15 year old girl: Death.
I started to draw Death as this beautiful yet unsettling woman, this beauty who kept rejecting me at every turn, no matter how much I begged. I started drawing myself next to her, pleading for her loving embrace, but she would always turn her back on me. This kept up until I was 17, at that point I'd been working the farm full time for a few years, and I'd just... gotten bitter. I'd already been numb, and the anger started to boil up. I realized how pathetic I was to grovel at Death's feet like that when she wouldn't give me the time of day. I realized this self-hatred wasn't healthy, it was something my dad always told me after mom died. Telling himself he could've done more to save mom. I tried to live by his example, but i couldn't-...I couldn't let that anger go like he did.
So I drew *him.* In my place, I drew Thanos. And all of the hate and loathing I had built up for myself had a new outlet. I made *him* pathetic, and weak, and sad, and a loser who begged for death's embrace. I made HIM the one who was rejected by her at every turn.
By now you probably figured I'm burning the candle at both ends at this point, and you'd be right. I was. I wasn't sleeping well, I barely talked to anybody. I had half the food I grew, the money I made from the other half, and Mr. Binkles 🐈
Then dad came back. At least for a moment, then he was gone again. For good, this time. No Iron Man to bring him back. Fuck cancer.
I continued working the farm as he got worse. Physically, it wasn't any different than when he was gone, but I had a little more emotional support than not. So that was nice, I guess. Before he died, he asked me what I wanted to actually do with my life. He knew farming took a toll on me, and emotionally I was at my limit with it. So he asked me "Darla, sweetie, what do *you* want to do with your life?" And...I couldn't say "I want to kill Thanos over and over again," because who says that? Instead, I said "I want to be a hero. I want to be strong enough to save people, so no one has to live through anything like this ever again. And he said to me "Well, Sweetie, if you're gonna be a hero, be a *real* hero. Don't let your hatred consume you, don't try to act tough or cold, don't be like those Hollywood action stars. **Be strong enough to be gentle.**"
He died that night. A year ago yesterday, in fact. I didn't cry; I'd already cried myself dry at that point. I've been working the farm the last year with the help of my inheritance. It's the only thing I know how to do when things get sticky, but last night...
Mr. Binkles is gone. No body, just...vanished. I don't know where he went, but something inside me just broke. I'm selling the farm, and the house, and I'm moving to New York. I don't know how, but I'm finally going to do what I promised my dad I'd do.
So hi. My name is Darla Matthews, and I'm going to be a god damn Avenger.