We were so young in 2012, and asked for so little. Remember that summer, when “The Avengers” wowed us by putting six superheroes onscreen? Only six! And one of them was Hawkeye! But still we were gobsmacked, and it was good.

Seven years later, in its orgiastic finale, “Avengers: Endgame” unleashed over two dozen superheroes — admittedly, one of them was still Hawkeye — and while pleasure centers were hit to the tune of a worldwide gross that approached $3 billion, it couldn’t help but feel familiar. As the decade went on, we had become supersaturated with superheroics.

Look at the box office, where the top space has so often been reserved for the next Marvel sequel, from “Iron Man” to “Captain America” to “Guardians of the Galaxy.” Look to the awards circuit, where “Black Panther” became an Oscar-winning, best-picture nominee while “Joker” took the top prize at the Venice Film Festival. “Wonder Woman” and “Captain Marvel” proved these movies aren’t just for boys, while “Deadpool” and “Logan” ventured into surprisingly lucrative R-rated waters. On the small screen, The CW turned nearly all of its network schedule over to crime fighters, while “Watchmen” proved masked vigilantes can dominate prestige TV, too.

Old-school auteurs like Martin Scorsese and Francis Ford Coppola may decry the comic-book stranglehold on our pop-cultural conversation, but don’t expect that grip to loosen anytime soon. It’s the superheroes’ world now. We’re just being saved in it.