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rynhaswritersblock · 4 years ago

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internship (hc) | p.p.

summary: tony stark not only helped in bringing together a group of people to protect earth, but also in sparking young love

warnings: i love this one very cute very fun i think i cussed once? idk

+ + +

- we all know peter parker has (had????) an "internship" with tony sTaNk

- but, despite that being fake, tony does actually have an internship program

- and, luckily for you, you're one of tony's most prized interns

- the moment he looked at your resume he knew you'd be a perfect fit

- your extremely rare high level of intellect shocked him

- in fact, you were almost even smarter than the man

- the two of you bonded right away

- at this point you were able to lounge around avenger hq in sweats and no makeup

- one day tony asked you to help him on his new project

- you said yes, ofc

- much to your surprise, this project was spider-man's new suit

- of course you'd seen videos of the web-slinger on youtube (who hadn't?)

- so obviously this project made you very excited

- you got to work right away, coming to the hq everyday after school

- you and tony were extremely proud of the final product

- he asked you to program the AI for the suit (soon-to-be karen!!!!!!!)

- and that was the first time peter saw you

- you were sat on the ground, legs crossed, holograms in the air as you worked

- too focused on your work, you hadn't noticed a certain boy in the doorway

- tony was giving him the rundown on the germany trip while showing him around the place, but peter got sidetracked when he saw you in the office

- the boy stopped dead in his tracks, focus honing in on you

- luckily for you, you had put on some mascara that day

- but you were still donned in some of your best sweatpants and an old shirt from school that was way too big for you

- yet, peter parker being peter parker, couldn't help but be starstruck (STARKstruck???) when he saw you

- well, every girl in the world was gorgeous to him, for goodness sakes

- but something about you caught him off guard

- "mr. stark, who's that?" peter whispered

- an all-too-knowing smirk grew on tony's face

- "y/n!" he called - your head shot up from the holograms and towards the door, where you made immediate eye contact with peter

- it wasn't long before a small blush grew on your face

- as much as you hated to admit it, you couldn't look at a boy (or girl, too, if you're bi or anything!) anymore without mentally rating their appearance - this is what being single your entire life does to a person

- needless to say, peter parker was HIGH on the list of attractiveness

- you quickly averted your gaze to tony, grin still tugging on his lips

- "yeah?"

- "this is peter." tony responds, gesturing towards the boy

- "h-hi," peter awkwardly blurts, giving a slight wave

- "hey," you reply, maybe a bit too bReAtHlEsSlY

- a few awkward seconds pass before you give the two a slight nod and get back to your work

- tony begins walking away, dragging peter along with him

- peter hurls series of questions about you at the man, which only made tony's smirk grow

- the two of you began to have more and more awkward encounters at the tower

- most of the time, you'd be working and he'd walk by, seeing you either by coincidence or on purpose

- but sometimes you would just be lounging in the living area, stuffing pizza in your mouth as you watched harry potter

- your levels of nonchalance made peter begin to question if you were mr. stark's secret daughter

- but no one needed to know he wondered that

- the more the two of you saw each other, the more you were on each other's minds

- the small "hey"s began to turn into conversations

- the first real conversation was started by peter (which was only possible through a rare burst of confidence)

- it started with the usual "hey"s

- and then peter asked about your internship

- he saw the way your eyes lighted up when he asked the question and it made him feel warm

- the conversation sparked into more:

- "what about you?"

- "what do you mean.. what about me?" peter asked

- "why do i see you here so often?"

- "oh. uh, also... intern... ship."

- the boys heartbeat began to quicken as you raised an eyebrow at him

- "why are you looking at me like that?"

- "nothing," you smile

- the two of you talk about school and life and stuff

- after peter bids you an awkward goodbye (he has to go train to do spider things!!) he begins to make his way out of the room

- "bye, spider-man," you yell

- peter whirls around, panic present on his face

- "how did you-?"

- "i'm not an idiot, parker."

- it didn't take your genius brain to connect all the dots (especially cause sometimes when you saw him it would be right after he finished training and he'd be all sweaty?????? which made you forget how to breath just a lil??)

- the two of you began holding actual conversations more and more

- you find yourself watching videos of spider-man swinging throughout the city

- the two of you stalk each other on insta, both marveled by the pictures the other posts

- eventually you say yolo and just follow him

- he follows you back literally like two seconds later

- during one of your run-ins at hq he gets all flustered

- "you okay?"

- "yeah," peter breathes, "uh, could i, uh, if you're okay with it, could i-"

- "dude."

- "sorry. could i please get your number please?"

- a small smile grows on your face before you reach out a hand, the boy hurriedly grabbing his phone and practically shoving it at you

- you type your name in with a little smiley face and then send yourself a quick "hey"

- you found yourself giddily smiling for a solid few minutes after he left

- one day you find yourself scheming on a way to get peter over to the tower (you were bored as heck; you'd already finished your work)

- then you got an idea

- peter was over mere minutes after you texted him

- he rings the buzzer and you tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. to let him in

- "hey," he greets, breathless from the speed at which he hurried over to the tower

- "tony said i need to start doing checkups on your suit every once and a while," you say, silently thanking your acting skills

- "oh," peter nods, "okay"

- he follows you down to the lab, mask still in hand and suit flush on his body

- you reach one of the large tables, stopping and sucking in a breath before giving him a slightly expectant look

- "i.." you hesitate, "i'm gonna need your..."

-"oh!" peter says with realization

- and then realization hit again

- "uh.. i don't have any other clothes..."

- your face burns bright red before you open your mouth again

- "okay um.. either you're gonna have to hide in the bathroom until i'm done or we try to do it with you still inside the suit... it's just that there'd be a lot of touching if you choose that.." you ebb off at the end of your sentence, chewing on the inside of your lip

- peter immediately gets flustered

- "uh, we can just.. try it... with the suit on........?"

- you nod, taking a nervous step towards him and beginning to mentally berate yourself for not entirely thinking this through

- peter takes a shaky inhale and accidentally takes in the scent of your perfume

- which makes him begin to freak out a little

- you lay a wary hand on him and peter swears he's going to faint

- the two of you had never touched and peter already had a bit too huge of a crush on you

- so this was a lot for him

- and his heightened senses didn't help

- you carefully (and very awkwardly) press the spider in the middle of his chest - peter starts silently praying you can't hear/feel his heartbeat

- the suit loosens and begins to slip off of his shoulders and you gasp slightly, furiously grabbing it and pulling it up

- "sorry," you smile sheepishly

- peter just half-smiles crookedly as he watches you refocus on the suit

- you give him a wary look before reaching in through the neck and wandering your hand towards the center of the suit

- your attempts to not touch him fail

- your hand brushes against his extremely toned stomach

- the breath catches in both of your throats

- yet you somehow continue, the two of you refusing to even dare to look at each other

- to your surprise, you find a wire out of place

- peter watches as your face scrunches up a lil in focus and melts just a little bit

- your fiddling doesn't get the problem fixed and out of frustration, you tug a little bit

- which causes the suit to slip off of his shoulders

- which causes peter's entire top half to become exposed, the only thing holding the suit up being your hands grasping the wires

- a blush spreads on your cheeks like wildfire as you look down to see the waistband of peter's underwear

- a small squeak involuntarily flies out of peter's mouth, making him mentally punch himself

- your flusteredness disappears when you focus your gaze slightly, seeing red and blue figures scattered across the boy's briefs

- a small laugh falls from your lips

- peter wants to run away

- your small laughter turns into a wheeze

- poor petey just stands there awkwardly

- "pete, are those..."

- you can barely breathe as you double over in laughter

- "are those spider-man underwear????"

- the slightest and weariest of smiles begins to creep on the boy's face

- "maybe..?" he says quietly, voice high

- "that's the best thing i've seen all day"

- eventually you focus again and fix his suit, the uncomfortable atmosphere getting replaced by the two of you joking around

- ever since that day the two of you would become a bit more touchy

- also almost forgot to mention that tony was watching the security camera that day and saw e v e r y t h i n g and loved it

- like peter would join you in watching movies after the two of you finished your work at hq

- you'd joke around by stacking your legs on top of each other and kicking each other

- your laughter literally made him so happy

- and you felt the same way about his

- one time you were watching a scary movie (peter intentionally made this happen so you would hopefully want to cuddle)

- a jump scare freaked you the FCK out and you immediately grabbed his hand - even though you cursed yourself, it made peter's day

- probably his whole month

- or life

- every time you got scared, you somehow gravitated closer to the boy, hands still laced together

- by the end of the movie you were curled into him, his arm around you and your head on his shoulder, legs hung over his

- and then the next day you two saw each other and literally pRETENDED THAT NOTHING HAD HAPPENED

- this made the avengers (who had caught onto y'alls chemistry very quickly) quite upset

- the group would tease you two so much kjvhgcjvkl it like wasn't even funny

- when peter discovered his AI (karen!! "hello?? hELLO????") (if you know the exact part i'm talking about i LOVE YOU)

- he immediately thought about you

- "wow, y/n really outdid herself”

- "yes, she did. also, she says hi." the AI responded

- "oh! uhh, i say hi back!"

- (pure angel)

- alright folks now i'm gonna get a little less detailed because i'm past 2000 words at this point and i think we can all tell that i got a bit carried away but let's keep going!

- essentially, the two of you just kept getting closer

- despite the two of you going to different schools, you still had fun lil study parties

- eventually you migrated from the tower and went to each others houses

- peter LOVES your room because it's literally you

- and same goes vice versa

- one day you were walking to the subway to get to the tower after school (beautiful fall afternoon, btw) and peter swung by and scooped you up

- you screamed a little at the beginning but then got used to it and and had fun and just kinda giggled in his ear the rest of the time

- peter began to worry a little as he swung through the city bc he was so enamored by your laughter all he wanted to do was stop on a roof and kiss you

- and then the idea sparked in his head that he could

- he panicked a little because you two were just buildings away from the tower

- and with one huge swing he landed the two of you on some random roof

- you slipped off of him, eyebrows furrowed as you looked around you

- "pete? this isn't the tow-"

- the boy ripped off his mask (which hurt his nose a little if he was being honest) and stepped towards you, quickly pressing his lips against yours and pulling away just as fast

- "holy shit, dude," you whisper after a moment, head spinning

- "holy shit?" he asks nervously

- "holy shit."

- you let out an ungodly snort and wheeze, smiles breaking on both of your faces and you let your head drop, pressing it into peter's chest

- you felt him laugh against you and you realized how happy you were (and lowkey hated how cliche it felt but it's fine)

- when you finally caught your air and pulled your head away, the two of you looked at each other with the most shit-eating, cliche, best-friends-turned-something-more smiles

- after a second, with the most boyish grin that made your heart melt, peter asked,

- "wanna make out?"

- "peter!" + + +

peter parker has my entire heart

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker imagines #marvel #mcu #spiderman #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #fanfic #fluff #writing #peter #parker #thomas holland

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whumphoarder · 6 years ago

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New Year's Regrets

Summary: In the midst of hosting his annual New Year’s party, Tony is called away to rescue a very impaired Peter from a rooftop in Queens.

Word count: 2,609

Genre: Fluff, whump, crack

A/N: Mega thanks to @sallyidss for beta reading and just generally being lovely <3

Link to read on Ao3

“So I take the tank, fly it right up to the general’s palace, drop it at his feet,” Rhodey recounts. “I’m like, ‘Boom! You looking for this?’”

As the gathered crowd breaks into laughter, Rhodey shoots a grin at Tony, who is standing about ten feet away and leaning against the bar. Still got it, the colonel mouths.

Tony just rolls his eyes and flips his friend off. He peers into his half empty glass, wishing the amber liquid inside was something a bit stronger than the apple juice he’s currently sipping. But he’s been really trying lately.

A moment later, Tony’s pocket starts buzzing. He frowns and fishes his phone out. There are only a handful of people for whom he’s authorized FRIDAY to let calls through while he’s hosting his annual New Year’s Eve party, and two of them are currently in the room.

He presses the accept call button as he slips out onto the balcony. “What’s up, kid?” he says into the phone. “You having a nice New Year’s?”

The voice on the other end comes back confused, like someone awoken from a deep sleep. “Wha…?”

Tony frowns. “Peter?”

“Oh. Hey… Mis’t’r Stark. What, uh, wha’ d’you need?”

“You called me, genius,” Tony quips, but he’s still frowning at the obvious impairment in the kid’s voice.

“Oh…” is Peter’s only reply.

“Where are you?” Tony asks, as though he’s not already having FRIDAY track the kid’s phone.

“I’m… out.” Peter giggles a bit. “Outside. 'S’New Year’s.”

Tony relaxes somewhat and lets out a long sigh. He’s always known this day would come—hell, he’d been the one to institute the ‘call me anytime you need a ride home’ rule—but he’d been hoping the kid would give it a couple more years at least. “So you went to a party after all, I take it?”

“...There’s a party?” Peter sounds confused.

Tony scoffs, “I’ll say.”

“Hm. Where?”

“Some rooftop in Queens, according to FRIDAY,” Tony replies, looking at the data he’s just pulled up on his watch. “Having a good time?”

“Ughh… Don’ think so,” Peter groans. “‘M’head hurts.”

Tony’s brow furrows. “Already?” It’s barely half an hour past midnight, but he wonders if maybe the kid’s spider metabolism has burned through the alcohol already and jumped straight to the after effects. He winces in sympathy—that’s really gonna suck in the coming years.

“Mm…” Peter grunts. “Don’ feel good.”

Tony sighs. Not really how he’d expected this night to go, but also far from the worst New Year’s he’s had. “You got a ride home, kid?”

Except for the faint sound of a car alarm beeping in the background, there’s silence on the other end.

“Peter?” Tony prompts again.

“Wha…?” Peter slurs. It’s followed by a choked gagging sound that can only mean one thing.

Tony squeezes his eyelids shut and presses his fist to them. “You’re throwing up, aren’t you?”

The only response is a few whimpers and then another retch.

“Jesus, kid,” Tony mutters, running his hand over his face. “You really went all out.” He can’t even send Happy since the man is in Chicago visiting his sister for the holidays. “Alright, I’m on my way,” he assures.

“Mmh...” Peter grunts in acknowledgement before disconnecting the call.

Tony opts to take the Iron Man suit rather than fight traffic less than 45 minutes after the ball dropped in Times Square on the basis that one, it’s faster, and two, it’s significantly easier to hose vomit off of a metal suit than the custom leather interior of his car. His plan is to crash the party and whisk his intoxicated protégé back to the Tower to sleep it off in one of the guest rooms before Pepper realizes he’s left hosting duties to her. Yet again.

He soars over the city, following the path FRIDAY has illuminated for him. He’s expecting to start seeing lights or hearing music blaring pretty soon, but frowns as he draws nearer to the dark rooftop of what appears to be a parking garage.

“FRI? You sure this is right?” he mutters as he approaches.

“Yes, boss,” she confirms. “Peter’s phone is located near the southwest corner of the structure.”

Tony flies over the rows of parked cars, peering between them for any signs of life. Finally he spots the crumpled form of a red and blue clad teenager sprawled out on the ground near the edge of the building between a beat-up Honda Civic and a silver Lexus.

Tony’s boots touch down on the rooftop with a clink. “Christ, kid,” he mutters. “So not only did you sneak out to patrol while May is at her company holiday party, but you apparently disabled your suit’s tracker. Again.” He retracts his helmet and crouches down next to the boy.

Peter’s mask is half pulled up over his face and a puddle of vomit sits beside his head. “...M’s’tr Stark?” he slurs before turning his head to the side and gagging again. When he’s done, he clutches his head and moans.

All traces of humor dissolve from Tony’s features. “FRIDAY, scan him,” he commands. “Is he safe to move?”

While the AI does her thing, Tony peers closer at Peter, for the first time realizing the kid’s suit is darkened and slightly singed over his chest and side. “What the hell happened?” he demands. “Are these… burn marks?”

“Robbery. ATM. Was swingin’…” Peter mumbles. He makes a small gesture with his hands, like something exploding. “Then… poof.”

“Poof?” Tony repeats.

The kid giggles a bit. “Poof.”

FRIDAY cuts in, “Scan complete, boss. Moderate concussion and first degree burns to the torso detected, but no skull fractures or spinal damage. He is safe to move.”

“Great.” Tony exhales deeply and runs an exasperated hand over his face. He looks down at the kid on the ground in front of him. “Why couldn’t you just go out and get drunk like a normal teenager?” he implores.

Peter squints up at him. “‘Cus ‘s’bad for you…” he mumbles.

“Oh yeah, the vigilante life is much better for your health.” Tony rolls his eyes. “FRIDAY, I feel like I’m gonna regret this, but initiate Baby Monitor protocol. Start with the last two hours.”

The helmet reconstructs itself around Tony’s head and images from Peter’s bodycam come into focus before his eyes. He fast forwards through the beginning of Peter’s patrol until the screen suddenly erupts in a burst of light.

“Whoa, go back,” he instructs the AI. “Play that again, speed at twenty-five percent.”

The video rewinds and then the scene replays much slower. After a few moments, the camera view changes from swinging steadily between buildings to capture a small explosion of light and color. Then the web snaps and Peter drops from the sky, slamming onto the parking garage below.

Tony is speechless for a second. He stares down at the injured teenager on the ground. “Did… Did you get hit by a fucking firework?”

Peter groans, “Think it was the other way around...”

“Jesus Christ,” Tony mutters. “What am I going to do with you?”

What he ends up doing is wrapping Peter’s floppy arms around his neck and hauling the kid up, bridal style, to fly them both the short way back to the tower. It takes only a few minutes, but the movement doesn’t seem to be helping and Peter pukes twice more in that time.

“God, how are you not empty yet?” Tony questions as Peter retches over his mentor’s shoulder. He’s keeping up his light, sarcastic air, but there’s a growing concern in the pit of his stomach.

“Uhhg…” Peter moans back. “S’rry. Feel sick.”

“I gathered that much,” Tony replies worriedly. He sends a message ahead for Cho to meet them in the medical wing.

They arrive at the tower and Tony steps out of the suit. He escorts the wobbly teenager in past the muffled music issuing from the party to his private elevator, and then up to Medbay. It’s not nearly as well equipped as the medical facility at the compound, but it will have to do.

Bruce is standing there waiting for them, his suit jacket removed and his tie hanging loose around his neck.

Tony guides the boy in to sit on the closest bed. “Where’s Cho?” he asks.

“Last I checked she was downstairs doing tequila shots with Thor,” Bruce says with a chuckle, undoing the buttons on his wrists so he can roll his shirt sleeves up. “She wasn’t exactly on call tonight. None of us were.”

Tony scoffs. “Yeah, I guess that was a bit of an oversight.” He takes in his friend’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “You good? Or should I make some calls and see if we can get him into SHIELD?”

“Nooo…” Peter groans in protest, pulling his legs up on the mattress and turning sideways to lay down. “Don’t wanna go...”

Tony can’t say that he blames the kid; SHIELD Medical is a nightmare. Not that the doctors aren’t good—they’re excellent—but the bedside manner is more than a little lacking, and there’s just so much paperwork.

“I think I’m alright.” Bruce glances up at the ceiling. “FRIDAY, what’s my BAC?”

“Your blood alcohol content is 0.07%,” she reports.

Tony shrugs at him. “Good enough to drive, good enough to doctor, right?”

Bruce returns the shrug. He turns his attention to Peter, who is curled up on the bed now, face screwed up and clutching his head in obvious discomfort. “Cho didn’t give me any details, but from the looks of him I’m guessing a head injury?”

Tony hums affirmatively and takes a mini Starkpad out of his suit jacket to pull up the bodycam footage while Bruce shines a penlight in Peter’s eyes to check his pupils. Peter flinches at the sudden brightness. Then the doctor runs a finger side to side across Peter’s field of vision to track his eye movements.

Once Bruce has completed his little exam, Tony projects the video off the screen and out into the room. When it gets to the explosion and subsequent fall, Bruce balks at the screen.

“Was that a…?” the scientist starts.

“Firework, yes,” Tony confirms with a snort of amusement. “Happy fucking New Year.”

Bruce barks out a sharp laugh. At Tony’s raised eyebrows, he quickly sobers. “Sorry. I mean, that had to hurt, but…”

Peter interrupts their banter with a moan, followed by a dry heave. Bruce jumps into action, grabbing one of the plastic bins from a nearby shelf and shoving it under the kid’s chin. Nothing comes up, and eventually Peter collapses back onto the bed, looking utterly miserable.

“Yeah, he’s been doing that,” Tony remarks. “Puked a couple times on the way over.”

Bruce frowns. “We should get him a CT scan. Nausea is common with a concussion, but actual vomiting is a little concerning.”

“Nah… ‘m’kay…” Peter mumbles, eyes closed.

“We’ll let your mildly buzzed doctor here be the judge of that,” Tony retorts.

Bruce rolls his eyes at his friend. “As if you’re completely sober.”

“Believe it or not, I actually am,” Tony huffs. “Getting a jump on my New Year’s resolution.” He presses the spider insignia on Peter’s suit and the material loosens, allowing the two men to shimmy Peter out of the suit. It definitely took the brunt of the burn damage from the firework, Tony notes with a measure of relief, but Peter still whimpers a bit as they carefully peel the fabric away from his bruised and slightly pink side.

Once the scan is complete, they move Peter—now dressed in a hospital gown—back into a bed. Tony sits next to him, his hand running idly through Peter’s curls while Bruce looks over the results.

Just then, the Medbay doors swing open and Pepper strides in, her high heels clicking across the tile. She’s still dressed in her sparkly black gown and her expression is unreadable.

Tony jumps up immediately, causing Peter to whimper at the loss of contact. “Shit, the party! Honey, I can explain, I didn’t—”

She rolls her eyes at her fiancé. “Save it, Tony,” she mutters, but there’s no actual heat there. “Thor and Cho are hosting now.” Her gaze falls on Peter and she softens. “Is he alright?”

“He will be,” Tony says quickly. “Right, Brucie?”

Bruce nods, flipping around the screen to display the images of Peter’s head. “CT scan shows no bleeding in his brain or skull fractures that FRIDAY missed. With his healing, he should be fine after a day or two of rest, given that he stops picking fights with Roman Candles.”

Pepper opens her mouth like she’s going to say something but no actual words come out. She closes it again. “You know, I don’t think I want to know,” she concludes.

Tony rubs his hand at the back of his neck. “Yeah, it’s probably better that way,” he agrees.

Peter suddenly sits up and gags at the empty plastic tub again. He brings up a bit of bile this time. Tony grimaces and places a hand on the kid’s back.

Bruce frowns, looking back at the scans in his hand. “That’s the only part of this that’s concerning me. His injuries really don’t warrant all this vomiting.”

Pepper smirks at the two baffled men. “You geniuses really can’t figure it out?”

Tony’s brow furrows. “Figure what out?”

Peter spits out one last string of saliva and moans, letting an arm wrap around his stomach. “Don’ tell Aunt May…”

Bruce gives him a sympathetic look. “Peter, I know you don’t like to worry your aunt, but she needs to know about your concussion so she can monitor you over the next few days.”

“Nooo not that,” Peter groans. He shifts his gaze to Pepper, a pleading look in his eyes. “Ms. Potts?” he whimpers.

Still smirking as though she knows something Tony doesn’t, she steps closer to the bed. “What is it, Peter?”

“Didn’t mean to. Was jus’ kinda sad and people say it helps,” Peter murmurs. “Holidays since Ben are kinda…”

Tony watches Pepper’s smirk fade into a sad sort of smile. “I know, hon,” she says softly, taking over Tony’s job of stroking her fingers through the kid’s hair. “It’s alright, May won’t be too mad at you. Just maybe next time you decide to polish off her bottle of”—she sniffs twice, wrinkling up her nose—“peppermint schnapps, don’t go out and get a concussion afterwards.”

Bruce shudders a bit while Tony just heaves out a sigh and slaps a hand to his face in exasperation. “Really, kid?” Tony groans. “Couldn’t you at least try something with a little more class?”

“Sorry…” Peter mumbles.

“I think you’ve learned your lesson,” Pepper says with a little laugh. Turning back to Tony she says, “Now you really need to get back to your party before Thor discovers your stash of hundred year old single malt and goes to town.”

“Yeah,” Tony mutters, moving away from the bed. “Good point.” He glances back. “Bruce, you staying or coming?”

“I’ll stay a while,” Bruce replies, nodding to his patient. “He shouldn’t be alone just yet, and he could probably use an IV anyway.”

Peter looks distraught. “Oh ‘m sorry Dr. Banner…” he moans. “I don’t mean to make you miss the party…” He screws up his face in thought. “...You can take me with you?”

“Over my dead body, kid,” Tony scoffs. He adds under his breath, “Though next time, you’ll definitely be trying something better than schnapps, Jesus Christ…”

Fic Masterlist

For more WorriedDad!Tony & his exasperating Spider Son, try You Broke Tony

#spiderman fic #spiderman #irondad fic #irondad #sick peter parker #hurt peter parker #new years #mcu writing #if anyone knows how to actually use the tags here pls let me know #i just kinda make stuff up #and this fic is like 100% crack omg #had a good time making it tho #hope your holiday season is going well!

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jamespottervevo · 6 years ago

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painted red (to fit right in) 1/3

James Potter is Spider-Man, and no one gave him an instruction manual.

He really could have used that manual.

Spiderman!AU | no movie spoilers | 7.k words | ao3

thank you to @frxddi @n0tromulus and @sitienessuficientecoraje for beta reading!

(if you showed any above average interest in this fic [yes I read tags bc I crave validation], I’m going to tag you here- @elanev91 @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world @frustratedpoetwrites @cornerforward13 @padfootdidit)

CHAPTER 1: i feel it in my bones

----------------------

James Potter came to in handcuffs. Again. Sirius kept a tally, for some asinine reason, of all the times he woke up handcuffed. Specifically in public. Not that he made a habit of being handcuffed in private either, that would make things a bit awkward around the house, paper thin walls and all that. He would never be able to look his mum in the eye if she walked in on him in cuffs, or the suit for that matter. He really didn’t want her to walk in on him in the suit. Not because he didn’t like it! He looked pretty sick in red after all. It was just- James took a breath, blinked once, then twice, then tried desperately to ignore the ache that had found a home at the base of his skull.

He was in the back of a squad car and for some inexplicable reason, no one had thought to try and peel off his mask. James supposed that, in the officers’ defense, the seam was really hard to find sometimes. But, on the other hand, what was with the police in New York? Had they even been trained or had they just been given a gun and told to shoot brown people?- something very fucking unfortunate for James.

He looked back down at the cuffs on his wrist, jangling them a bit to see if by some miracle the cops had forgotten to actually lock the damn things, but no dice; maybe they had been trained after all. At least they’d been so kind as to cuff him in the front. He could work with that. His eyes flicked toward the rear view mirror and he watched as a few officers milled about, surveying the scene, chatting loudly, kicking garbage, generally being vaguely scummy in a sort of indistinct way. He grit his teeth and cracked his neck, bouncing just a bit in the seat to garner up some sort of energy, to shake off the fucking jackhammering going on in his skull.

He twisted in the seat, as subtle as he could manage before kicking at the door, hard, and knocking it open. (It occurred to James later that he could have just used the handle.) Okay, so maybe he really needed to work on that whole “not alerting every cop in the area to his escape” thing, but he was like, sixty percent sure he might have had a concussion. He couldn’t be blamed for the stupid things he did while most likely concussed, but he knew for a fact that Sirius wouldn’t let him live it down once the video footage broke.

But right,- cops, staring at him and yelling, hands drifting to weapons. James took another deep breath and pretended his head wasn’t a few seconds off from exploding before he began running, feet hard and fast hitting the pavement. He couldn’t see, sensory overload the helpful little voice in his head supplied as he jumped over a fire hydrant, down the sidewalk, sirens starting to blare behind him again. Everything was too much. Too much light, too many colors, too much movement. He picked up on it all and felt like he might throw up his Cheerios. He really shouldn’t have had that second glass of chocolate milk either.

“Come on, come on,” James mumbled, eyes dating; he just had to find a building tall enough… He grinned as he turned the corner, all but smacking right into a beautiful skyscraper. Okay, maybe it was a little ugly but it was absolutely perfect. He glanced over his shoulder, the police turning the corner. James flicked his wrist, and offered the police officers a wave as the web shot from his hand and plastered itself to the wall up ahead.

“Well, officers, it’s been a ple-” He cut off as the force of the web retracting finally grabbed him, yanking him off toward the wall at a speed that was definitely not safe for the concussion he definitely had or the breakfast he was definitely going to throw up. He’d never thrown up in the mask and he absolutely refused for that first to happen while being chased by a few very angry cops while handcuffed.

Webslinging? Much harder while handcuffed he might add.

But cuffed or not, the feeling still opened up some part of him. Like...magic. Everytime he was in the air, James felt more alive than he thought should be allowed. Like every breath he’d ever held suddenly rushed out of him, no weight to burden him. Nothing had ever made him feel quite so real. It was as close to flying anyone could ever get, he reasoned.

Well. Flying with a little more thought, he amended, as he shot another web, twisted his body to avoid slamming head first into a billboard. Something about lotion. Or maybe yogurt. He hadn’t been able to get a clear picture while hurtling past at breakneck speed. But it had looked like Jamie Lee Curtis, so probably yogurt.

While yes, being in the air, grabbing buildings and flagpoles and billboards to swing and throw himself farther and farther away from the cops was nice (breathtaking, spectacular, fucking fun), it didn’t exactly stop his head from threatening to explode. Had the sun always been that fucking bright? When the sirens started to fade out into nothingness behind him, James began trying to find his alleyway.

Despite what the papers said about him, he didn’t think he was a “public menace” at all! Sure, maybe he still hadn’t quite got a hang of the whole “hero” thing yet, but it’s not like anyone ever gave him a manual. Couldn’t just google “am I a spider?” or “how to be a superhero?” - though, he did think there was a wikifact article on that one actually- or even “how to look good in spandex?” And yes, maybe he’d tried to google that one.

But.

Just because knew he couldn’t truthfully be labeled a public menace, it didn’t necessarily mean people, you know. Agreed with him. So landing in the street? Not a good plan. Besides, all of his belongings were stashed away behind a dumpster and a cleverly placed board in the alley behind the Indian grocery near home. It took a few more swings before he caught sight of the familiar signs and swung himself down into the alley. His nose scrunched. Oh god. He’d forgotten it was garbage day. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, he supposed as his feet hit the ground. He stumbled, having momentarily forgotten that he had definite brain damage and also was handcuffed and probably could taste color thanks to the overstimulation.

James gave his surroundings a cursory glance- he had to be quick about this- before yanking his wrists apart, hard, splitting the cuffs with a satisfying CRACK! Fucking hurt though. And now he just had two locked on bracelets. And still had his suit on. And-

His phone was going off.

James’ train of thought slowed as he heard the blaring saxophone riff of “Careless Whisper” increasing in volume from inside his suit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. His alarm. Throwing another glance around the alleyway first, James ripped off his mask, hair standing straight up and undoubtedly looking like a rats nest. George fucking Michael was going to get him caught in a skeevy alleyway, half dressed, in handcuffs. Is this what his life had come to? Goddamnit. He hoped his mom didn’t put all that information in his obituary after she definitely murdered him for galavanting about as a superhero without her permission.

After a bit more fumbling, he managed to unzip his suit and shove his hand into it, silencing his “hey dumbass it’s time for school” alarm. Because he was a dumbass who was definitely going to be late for school. James looked around hopelessly, as if he could find a magical key somewhere in the alley that would let him get the fucking cuffs off.

What a sight he bet he was- half dressed in his Spider-Man suit, squinting without his glasses, wobbling from the concussion. James paused, and reached out to steady himself by throwing a hand onto the wall.

His (wildly out of focused) eyes landed on a mostly distinguishable blur. Huh. So, maybe it wasn’t a key, but a pipe should work, right? Without much thought (because, as James would admit, he rarely did anything with much thought) he slammed his wrists down onto the pipe as hard as he could.

The metallic clang echoed through the alley and he had to bite back a cry of pain as the reverberations shook through his wrists, but the cuffs snapped off. A couple bruises were nothing new! He’d be fine!

James spent a few more moments fumbling in the alley. Nearly falling headfirst in the dumpster while reaching for his backpack. (He’d learned his lesson and had wrapped the bag in a quadruple layer of plastic grocery sacks to keep the Garbage Reek off of it.) Tripping over his own feet as he stripped out of the suit. Almost tearing a gigantic fucking hole in his t-shirt as he tried to get it on over his head. He was doing great.

Once he was finally changed and his suit was hidden and his backpack was de-plasticed, James glanced down at his phone. Fuck. Fuck. 7:39. He couldn’t exactly websling his way to class and he’d told his parents he was spending the night with Remus so it’s not like he could manage a ride off them. Fuck.

----------------------

james potter to Big Chungus: anyone near devars rn?

sirius black: tf u at devars for at 7 in the morning

sirius black: ik we have ladoo at home unless ur fatass ate all of them

remus lupin: I’m pretty sure that pete ate most of the pack james thought he’d hid in that hollowed out book on his shelf

peter pettigrew: you promised you wouldn’t tell!!!!!!!!!!!!!

james potter: 1) hate all of u.

james potter: 2) not about snacks just need a ride so come get me

remus lupin: be there in five you absolute jackass

remus lupin: but I want some of those chickpea things from the store as payment

remus lupin: the ones with the peanuts with them

james potter: literally said this wasn’t about snacks like two secs ago. Not even in the store

remus lupin: u want a ride? Bc this is about snacks now jim

james potter: ...which size bag do u want

----------------------

The thing was, he’d never meant to be a hero.

He hadn’t purposefully shoved his hand into a creepy spider’s weird science prison containment cage during the field trip to RidCorp. Hadn’t gone out of his way to bend metal pipes in half on accident (that had been a shock to say the least). Hadn’t woken up one morning with the intention of sticking to walls. Door handles. Stairway railing at school. James Potter had been happy! Never wishing he had more or could be more or should be more.

Because he loved his life! He loved his parents and his friends. He played soccer and helped carry the debate team to victory and fucked around in some of his classes! No seventeen year old in their right mind would purposefully go out of their way for that sort of responsibility! He barely remembered to take out the garbage- of course he never meant to become a hero!

He’d also not meant to accidentally save Lily Evans’ life.

But life just had a way of intervening, didn’t it?

----------------------

“You’re staring.”

James jolted slightly, glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose. Sirius made himself comfortable far too close to James’ ear before throwing himself down at their usual lunch table.

He decided not to grace Sirius with a response and instead rubbed his neck, pretended he wasn’t thirteen different types of pathetic. “I was not staring- I mean. No, what? Who would I have even been staring at?” Smooth, Potter, he thought, really fucking smooth. Inconspicuous.

Sirius raised an eyebrow as he swung his backpack from his shoulders and dropped it to the floor with an unceremonious thud. James flinched at the sound. (Concussed, remember? A week later and he was still dealing with headaches) A few people glanced their way, but it wasn’t as if Sirius seemed to care. Well, James reasoned, he probably had done it for the attention in the first place. James adjusted his glasses, concentrated quite fiercely at a place on the wall, poked at his food with little intention of actually eating.

Sirius snorted. “So you mean to tell me that you weren’t staring at Evans then?” The lilt to his voice made it very apparent that yes, Sirius knew that he’d been staring at Evans and was now being the world’s largest dick about the fact.

Before James could continue his scathing silent treatment, Remus sank into his customary seat. “Oh, no, James was definitely staring at Lily,” he provided. Traitor.

James pulled his phone out from his pocket and finally tore his gaze away from the very intriguing concrete wall and tapped out a message.

james potter to remus lupin: et tu brute

He set down his phone with a huff. “I was not fucking staring at Evans,” he lied. Poorly. Because as he spoke, his gaze shifted back toward her direction. James only vaguely registered Remus’s scoff at the text message because…

God.

Lily E. Evans (so he may have glanced at her student ID. Once… Okay, four times) happened to be the singularly most beautiful person he’d ever met. Fuck, that he’d ever seen. And that included Kim Possible, who he may or may not have had a fat crush on as a kid. (He had a type, okay? The guys never ceased to give him shit over that, but resolutely, James refused to be shamed for the level of self awareness he was positive people would be plenty jealous to achieve.) Evans blew everyone else out of the water.

He loved her hair- thick and red with impossibly good looking bangs. (James melted whenever she pulled it into a ponytail and had managed to fucking fail gym class freshman year because he was distracted. Over a ponytail. Gym class! He was a student athlete!) Her eyes that he could have composed sonnets about if he knew how to do that sort of thing. Her dimples. Freckles. The stubbornness written into her chin, her jaw. Her eyes. Her eyes. Her eyes.

Then there was the way she laughed and flipped her hair over her shoulder and only ever used purple InkJoy pens. The fact she laced her boots to the very top and tucked in the excess. How when she seemed anxious, she’d put on cherry lip balm like a nervous tick. The way she always knew the answers to anything Slughorn asked before James could even comprehend the question. How she gave tours to all the new students and never faked a smile. God. Then there was her smile. He’d thought a lot about her smile. How to make her smile at him instead of scowl. Huff. Frown.

Evans was...was an angel. A goddess. A-

“You’re literally about to start drooling.” Peter snapped James from his reverie. The tater tot that hit him in the face shortly after helped as well.

James snatched the weaponized tot off the table and popped it into his mouth. “No I wasn’t,” he lied once again, this time around the food in his mouth. He swallowed. Stole another one of Pete’s tater tots. When had he sat down anyway? Had he been that enthralled in Evans-land (again)?

Unable to help himself, James took one last glance in Evans’ direction before the undoubtable barrage of soggy potatoes could commence.

Her head was thrown back as she laughed, a featherlight hand on Snape’s shoulder. His stomach clenched.

Evans was a pipe dream.

----------------------

sirius black to peter pronounced venti wrong three separate times in the starbucks line: take bets, is minnie gonna let us pick our groups for this project

peter pettigrew: i hadn’t slept in 40 hours! Bc you made me stay up! Watching every fucking fast and furious movie

peter pettigrew: and then made me give analysis after each one

peter pettigrew: and keep a comprehensive ranking of them

remus lupin: pete did you drink three venti coffees????????

sirius black: he got thru one before he said “his heart was going to burst”

james potter: jesus christ dude

james potter: but tokyo drift is obviously the best

remus lupin: isn’t gal gadot in some of those?

remus lupin: my mother keeps telling me to find a nice jewish girl think she’d be okay with this?

sirius black: jim ur opinions are trash, pete ur coffee habits are wack, remus I keep telling u we’re soulmates god. Now FOCUS.

sirius black: groups. for. project.

remus lupin: dude of course she’s not letting us work together

james potter: yeah do u like...not remember what happened last time

remus lupin: pete still can’t eat spaghetti

peter pettigrew changed chat name to PTSD (post traumatic spaghetti disorder)

----------------------

He died. That had to be what had happened, right? Maybe all the brain trauma he’d been hiding from his parents had finally caught up to him. What movie was it where everything turned out to have all been a dream? Because that was another likely situation. Really, anything felt more plausible than McGonagall- Minnie, his guardian-fucking-angel, a saint on Earth- pairing him with Lily E. Evans for the history project.

James did a great job pretending he hadn’t seen the less-than-thrilled look on Evans’ face when the pairing was announced. Because he was living. The project meant he’d have an excuse to talk to her without coming across as a creep. That he’d be able to spend time with her outside of school.

Pathetic? Oh, definitely. But James couldn’t make himself care because Evans’ number was written in purple ink, tidy little numbers, on the back of his hand. He may or may not have memorized it before class had even ended. So yeah. Pathetic. Happily, happily pathetic.

James kept looking down at his phone.

lily (love of my life) evans: meet me at the nat. history museum by on the front steps?

lily (love of my life) evans: 5:30 okay?

James knew without a doubt that if Evans had asked him to show up at four in the morning and wait all day, he would have without question. So 5:30? No problem. It gave him a little extra time for his patrols too! (Admittedly, he was the only one keeping track of his patrols, but it wasn’t like he should sit by and do nothing, not with the powers he’d been given. Right? Right.)

James couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, not even when he ducked into the closest abandoned alley to change. This time, he’d managed the foresight to wear most of his suit on under his school clothes, save for the mask and gloves. He was learning, thank you very much.

He could only imagine what he looked like, swinging from building to building while still wearing his backpack. (A text from Sirius informed him that he “looked like a whole ass fucking weeb.”)

Swinging from one building to the next, just listening, focusing, he let his senses kick into overdrive to pick up anything unusual. Since the bite, the world had grown too loud, too much, at times. James learned how to turn it off, eventually, but it took him time. Days of headaches and nausea and blurry vision, days when he could suddenly see the flecks of dry skin on Pete’s cheek from across the room. When he could smell Evans’ perfume tables away in Minnie’s class and he nearly fainted. It definitely took time. But he liked to think he’d gotten better at it all. At trying to be a hero, using his powers.

He hadn’t...done much, admittedly. He’d helped that one woman get back into her car; he’d climbed up onto the roof to grab a basketball for some kids. Oh, he’d gotten back a stolen bike, chased down a purse snatcher. Pulled a kid from the street to avoid a jackass on a motorcycle. Small things. Good things, but small things. He’d only been at this for a few months- just long enough for the police to hate him on sight and the Daily Prophet to label him a menace just because he may have accidentally done some light property damage. Maybe.

But doing nothing? Now that felt like a waste. James swung up onto the edge of a roof, plopped down to make himself comfortable, and tugged off his mask. He gulped down fresh air and tilted his head back, letting the wind rush over his face. The building was too tall for anyone to be able to make out his face from down below, or at least he hoped that was the case.

After a little more fumbling, James pulled his phone from his suit and began tapping at the screen while still wearing his gloves. Of course, that didn’t fucking work because it never worked. He huffed and yanked a glove off with his mouth, his other hand pressed against the ledge for balance. He could just imagine his obituary if he fell.

“James Potter was beloved by everyone except his mother who he’s going to send into an early grave because of his shenanigans. He looked like a fool and at the very least could have worn a jacket. He fell off the building because he never ate his ratha poriyal because his brother told him it would make him turn into a Chupacabra. It’s a miracle they didn’t fall off the roof together. He leaves behind a messy room and an angry cat who has begun peeing everywhere in retaliation. In lieu of flowers, send a cleaning crew.”

So he held onto the ledge.

Evans hadn’t texted yet, which meant he still had a little longer to kill before showing up at the museum like a lovestruck fool. James took a few minutes to absently scroll through Twitter, check his email, stockpile a few memes for the guys later. He snapped off a selfie, angling it just right before sending it to the groupchat, just to flex.

----------------------

Casual. Casual. He could do casual. He could definitely do casual. Casual? Not an issue. James Potter was smooth as fuck. He kept his focus on the soccer ball in his hands as he stared up at the stucco ceiling. He tossed the ball in the air, caught it, repeated. Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch.

“So,” he began, fighting the waver in his voice. These were his best friends. They’d understand. Right? They’d believe him. “You guys heard about Spider-Man?” Saying it out loud felt like coughing up dust.

Sirius glanced over from his nest in the beanbag chair, raised an eyebrow, shifted slightly. Remus made a soft, disgruntled sort of sound as Sirius moved and made a bit of a show of adjusting his legs across his lap, draped from where he sat in James’ desk chair.

“You mean the dude that’s been running around in pajamas?” Remus asked, scowled down at Sirius who had simply started wiggling in the seat. Ever the help, Pete began tossing licorice bites across the room to Sirius to further egg on his wiggles. Well. Maybe hinderance, based on Remus’s look as he bapped Sirius on the head with his novel before looking over at James. Sirius caught a bit of licorice in his mouth and he and Pete threw their arms up in triumphant glee. “I’ve seen him on the news some, yeah.”

The ball was in midair as he began to sputter, sitting up. “He does not wear pajamas!” Without sparing a glance, James stuck his hand out and caught the soccer ball in his open palm. Remus looked mildly impressed. Mildly. High praise, really.

Peter chewed on a piece his of licorice. “No, I agree with Remus. He’s definitely wearing pajamas,” he mumbled around his candy after taking his time to come to that conclusion. A conclusion James had hoped would be rational and obvious because of course Spider-Man didn’t look like he was wearing pajamas.

Sirius snorted, tapping away at his phone. “You’re just agreeing with Remus because he’s smart,” he deadpanned, gaze unwavering. Instagram, if James had to guess. But!

“So you agree with me then, right? He’s clearly not wearing pajamas!” James exclaimed, relief almost obvious in his tone. He set the soccer ball down. Uh. Fuck. Okay. His hand was stuck. He casually just...left it there. On top the soccer ball. Like anyone would do.

Sirius let out another snort. This time his eyes wandered over the edge of his phone to land on a perfectly, totally chill, super normal James who just happened to like resting his hand on a soccer ball. “What? Fuck no, of course it looks like he’s in pajamas.”

“But-”

“Remus is smart, not wrong.”

James was melting. God. Okay. Just be calm. Don’t make things weird. Take it eas- “I’m Spider-Man!” He shouted, cut himself off when he remembered they were in his bedroom and his parents were home and he didn’t need the wrath of Euphemia Potter at six o’clock on a Tuesday. “I’m Spider-Man.” He repeated, a little quieter, a little calmer.

This time, it was Remus who broke the silence first. With a surprised yelp of laughter. He set down his book and looked at James, nose wrinkled in amusement. It made him look younger, James realized, the nose thing. “Dude, c’mon. You’re telling me that you, James Fleamont-”

“God don’t remind me-”

“- Potter are Spider-Man,” Remus finished, the corners of his lips tugged up into a cheeky grin.

James suddenly felt, oh what was the word? Re-fucking-gret.

“Do you not remember freshman year gym with Hooch? Because,” Sirius started, “I do. You fell from the top of the rope climb and smacked your bigass head onto the gym floor. You threw up. We all watched you throw up.”

James could have done without the fucking laughter in his tone. Brother who? No. He was an only child from there on out. “Okay that was only because I saw Evans do this thi-”

“You also fell down the stairs last month, like, all of the stairs,” Peter chimed in because of course! Clearly it was mock-James-during-his-big-dramatic-alter-ego-reveal-moment-time! “A lot of people saw that too,” he added with clearly careful thought, fucking reminiscing about James falling headfirst down the stairs. As if he didn’t have enough brain damage already.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Without thinking (wow, he had a habit of not thinking) James flicked his wrist and shot out a web, snatching Sirius’s phone from his hand.

The room went very...very quiet. The trio turned to look at him, faces blank, as if their reactions were buffering and then Sirius opened his mouth-

“What the FUCK.”

----------------------

peter pettigrew to SPIDERJAMES??????????????????????: okay so can u lay eggs

james potter: dude wtf no??????

sirius black: okay r u sure tho? Like have u really tried to lay an egg?

james potter: why. the fuck would i try to lay an egg??

peter pettigrew: science

james potter: I don’t lay eggs.

remus lupin: what happens when you masturbate

james potter: I do NOT want to answer that

sirius black: yknow, also p invested in jim not answering that

peter pettigrew: ………morbidly curious

remus lupin: it’s just as valid as asking about eggs.

james potter: I regret telling all of you anything ever in my life

james potter left the chat

remus lupin changed chat name to spidersemen? is it a thing.

sirius black: im so uncomfortable

remus lupin: good. hard questions should make you uncomfortable

peter pettigrew: ha! Hard.

sirius black: u were so pure before we were friends

remus lupin: you don’t know my life.

----------------------

James shifted on the roof, slipped his phone back into his suit. 5:06. He had exactly 24 minutes to get get to the museum, change, and make himself look perfectly loveable to be just on time to meet Evans. Right. Super duper reasonable! He swung his legs around from the edge of the roof, moving back onto solid ground and grabbing his backpack in one fluid motion. The museum was...James squinted, used his finger to point as he counted, six blocks away. He could totally handle that in 24 minutes.

Wait. Mask. Right. He bent down to swipe his mask off the roof ledge when his body went cold. His muscles tightened, the hair on the back of his neck standing up as a creeping feeling rolled up his spine. He could hear see smell taste everything oh god there was a baby crying down the street- pizza- cat being chased- woman yelling on the phone- trashcan.spiderwebonthefireescape.taxisnearlycolliding.tacotruckemptyinggrease-Hey Get Out Of Her- No I Didn’t Tell Him Ab- I Love You Have A Good D- Yeah I Got The Shit It’s-

James let out a sharp gasp and broke focus, his hand curled tight around his mask. It happened, sometimes, an overload like that. The kind that made every nerve in his body go into hyper-super-what-the-fuck sensitive mode. He felt it, all the time, really. Walking down the street. When he answered the front door. When he saw the police. He didn’t have to have the suit for that. He once tried to explain it as anxiety dialed up to fifty, when there was danger, his body reacted. Like an allergy.

Without a doubt, that spider-sense never led to anything good, especially not when the feeling came across that violently. And in that moment, all James could hear, smell, think was “Yeah, I got the shit. It’s pretty low quality, you sure this is what he wanted?”

James yanked his mask on, took a deep breath. Focused.

“Yeah, I got the shit. It’s pretty low quality, you sure this is what he wanted?”

He started to run and without hesitation, threw himself off the roof, arms spread, a nose dive. A leap of faith that he wasn’t about to do something incredibly stupid. Focus. James shot out a weh on instinct, catching a fire escape and throwing himself higher, faster.

“Yeah, I got the shit. It’s pretty low quality, you sure this is what he wanted?”

Close. James was close. His body felt tense, on edge. He swung around a building and nodded at the wide-eyed woman in the passing window, waved. He heard the slam of a car door. A van. An alley.

“Yeah, I got the shit. It’s pretty low quality, you sure this is what he wanted?”

He landed with a loud, metallic thunk, a creak as the fire escape settled under his weight. James winced, scrunched his eyes shut, said a little prayer that the men didn’t hear him. He quickly ducked behind a comically small potted plant and prayed that would be enough.

Slowly, James peered around the plant, nudging one of the leaves out of the- weed. He was hiding behind a cutesy terra cotta pot of weed on someone’s fire escape. Okay then. He stored that information away for later and took everything in.

A nondescript black van sat parked in the alley, one of the back hatch doors swung open. James could just barely make out a few cardboard boxes stacked in the back. Two men stood to the side, backs turned to James’ hiding place. One in a hoodie, a cigarette in one pale hand. One in a button up shirt tucked into dress pants.

“How much more is he gonna need?” Hoodie asked. His voice hadn’t seemed to have dropped. Young sounding. James scooted a little closer, pushing the plant for cover and immediately regretted the action as the pot scraped across the metal grating. Loudly. Whoopsie.

He studied Hoodie, nose scrunched as he wondered why a teenager wou- oh. If that was a teenage dude’s ass, he was definitely going to have to reevaluate some things later. People did always think that Sirius was his boyfriend which like, gross? They were practically related and he’d seen Sirius’s dental hygiene habits up close and he did not want to get personal. If he’d date any of his friends, obviously it would be Remus. Was that even a question? Actually, Pete would be rather supportive no matter what.

James frowned. He did have a bit of an obsession with George Michael- He paused the steamrolling thoughts and just...filed that crisis away for later.

Button Up shifted, folded his arms over his chest. “Unsure. The experiments have been going as we’d hoped, but it’s not even close to passing under FDA regulations.” Button Up sighed and pulled a bulky looking phone out of his back pocket. James squinted. Was that a flip phone? Who the fuck still used a flip phone?

Button Up held a finger up to Hoodie and brought the phone up to his ear. The three waited, James with baited breath, Hoodie with restless posture and puffs of smoke, Button Up with a perfectly blank face.

Hoodie moved her weight from one foot to the other and pulled her hand from her pockets. She pushed the hood of her sweatshirt off, revealing a mess of dark, curly hair. She took a drag off her cigarette. Exhaled. “Look, I’m in a hurry here. Your boss has my number if he needs anymore, but he’s gotta remember that my supplier takes his time with this. I won’t be able to pull this much out of my ass again.” Hoodie spoke around the cigarette in her mouth, blew smoke toward the van.

Button Up didn’t glance in Hoodie’s direction. “Yes. Hello sir! I- yes...no we didn’t run into any issues- Five boxes as ordered, I’ll be...Uh. Yes. I’ll ask.” He snapped his phone shut, cleared his throat. “He wants five more shipments, as well as a few...test subjects. Double the pay if you get it done by the end of the month.” Button Up cleared his throat, moved as if adjusting a tie.

Hoodie nodded once, then twice, dropped her cigarette butt to the ground and extended her hand. Button Up clasped it in a way so professional, it was almost funny. “He better, or else. Don’t think the boss would like it too much if the Prophet caught wind of this, now would he?” There was confidence in her tone, another shift in her posture. Holding her head up higher. Power, James realized. Whatever this was, the cards were in her hands.

Button Up withdrew his hand and turned away from Hoodie, closing the back door of the van. James’ body thrummed with energy, jittered. They’d not said anything illegal, but he knew better than to doubt his spidey sense. He needed to do...something. Follow one of them or catch one in a web or… Something.

In his moment of internal debate, James had missed Hoodie’s retreat, leaving Button Up to focus on. He turned toward the fire escape as he rubbed his temples and James got a decent look at his face. He felt...a little disappointed honestly. No super badass scars or tattoos, and he wasn’t that good looking. He looked plain, forgettable. Hanging from his shirt was a security badge. James couldn’t quite make out the words, but he recognized the logo.

RidCorp. The pioneer and leader in innovation when it came to new pharmaceuticals and genetics, RidCorp was the public’s darling when it came to the future. Cures for cancer and growing new organs and...James had just watched an employee make a shady deal in an empty alleyway.

He didn’t hesitate. When Button Up turned once again, started to walk toward the driver’s side door, James dropped down from the fire escape with a THUMP. He took a moment to prop a hand on the wall, cross his ankles as he leaned. Button Up swivelled on his heels, fast.

James wiggled the fingers on his free hand. “This looked like a lot of fun. Can I join in? I’m a great conversationalist!” He wished he had a camera to capture the look of absolute “what the fuckery” on Button Up’s face.

“Shit,” Button Up hissed as he leapt into the van and slammed the door shut. Before James had the foresight to memorize the license plate, Button Up was speeding off down the alley. The van made a violent turn into the street and was reasonably met with angry honks and shouts.

James grinned, shot a web, and let the momentum carry him after the van. Button Up hadn’t managed to get very far before James caught sight of him again. He kept up the pace of webswingjump, webswingjump, until he was close enough to land a web onto the top of the van.

Unfortunately, it was impossible to swing from superpowered spiderwebs in a very crowded city, down a very crowded street, without drawing attention.

“Is that Spider-Man?”

“Who’s he chasing?”

“God that costume’s stupid looking!”

That comment was just hurtful, but it wasn’t as if he had time to stop and argue with a random New Yorker. He perched on the roof of the van as Button Up sped down the street, veering in a way that clued James into the fact he was trying to be shaken off.

He stuck himself to the roof with one hand as he bent over, upside down in front of the windshield. “Use the spray,” he shouted, pointed down at the wipers, “I’m sure that’ll help! Usually gets bugs off!” He gave a thumbs up and Button Up slammed on his brakes. The suddenness of the stop dislodged James from the roof and if it weren't for his reflexes kicking in, he’d have flown headfirst into the street. Instead, he fired off a web and swung himself up onto the side of a building, breathing hard.

The van started moving again as James carefully tried to come up with a plan. He’d not expected to get nearly so far. He couldn’t let Button Up get away! Before he could undoubtedly have his brilliant lightbulb moment, police sirens began blaring in the background. Oh fuck.

He looked around, glad for the mask to hide his panic. Sirens. Sirens. Sirens. James tilted his head. A few blocks out still, it sounded, but that didn’t exactly give him much time-

Time. He threw a panicked glance over his shoulder toward the clock hanging off a department store front. 5:26. Evans. James looked back and the van was...gone. Fuck. The police were closer; the van was gone; he couldn’t be arrested again; Evans was going to kill him.

After a moment of deliberation, James started to websling, throwing around his weight as he flung himself up in the air, higher and higher, quicker and quicker, to get to the museum in time. Evans would make that face at him if he was late, the one that made him want to retract into his own body and wither away. Disappointment.

His heart pounded and James could hear it in his ears, breathing fast and hard and his hands were so sweaty. When he finally caught sight of the museum, a wave of relief washed through his body because not only did he see the museum, but a blur of red hair just turning down the sidewalk.

He was going to be on time. Sweaty. But on time. He swung in closer, aiming for the alley around the corner. Evans wasn’t going to hate him. She’d fall in love with him for knowing the names of all the dinosaurs and they’d get married and have the cutest child and- no. no. no. no. no.

James’ body went ice cold.

The scaffolding over the entrance where workers were taking down a metallic spider.

The giant hunk of metal slipping out of place.

Falling. Falling. Falling.

He didn’t think.

He just moved.

It happened faster than even James could comprehend.

The screaming. The warnings. The panic.

A girl looking up too late.

The spider was too big for James to simply push the girl clear of its path. So he shot a web at her waist and pulled her into his chest, curling around her as he threw both hands up to catch the spider as it fell. (Talk about irony.) The weight of it all sent vibrations down his arms and he couldn’t breathe, too high off adrenaline, couldn’t think.

And then… quiet. People stunned into silence around him on the steps, shocked workers up above, the girl no longer screaming in his arms. James gave a grunt and dropped the spider to the side, let his arms drop.

He panted as he looked down and met a pair of green green eyes. Those eyes. Evans stared up at him in wonderment. Relief. Whatever it was, James wanted to savor the moment.

He cleared his throat, stepped away, put his hands on his hips because that’s what superheroes did right? “Alright, E- Miss?” He forced his voice lower. As low as he could make it. Pretended it didn’t crack when he spoke.

Evans blinked up at him, her shoulders shaking. He loved the coat she wore, it matched her eyes- oh god, she’d been talking. “- I...thank you,” Lily finished, hiccuped. James grinned because no one could see.

Admiration. That was the look in her eyes. He didn’t know what to say.

Sirens picked up volume in the background. Cops and an ambulance, James distinguished. Someone in the crowd had probably called 911. Right. The cops definitely still hated him. His feet did not want to move but after a few seconds of internal wrestling- he could just yank his mask off right, show Evans that he wasn’t an entire jackass- James flicked his wrists and fired off a web.

Then he finally spoke “I’m your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,” he continued trying to sound like Batman, let the web start to pull him away, “that’s what I’m here for!” God. He needed a better catchphrase. But Evans eyes were still on him and she seemed so adoring that he nearly forgot to fire off another web to keep from landing face first in the street.

He had spidey sense, not common sense.

When he wrapped the corner, he could already hear the chatter from the crowd picking up intensity, the sirens halting as the emergency responders arrived at the museum entrance.

The thought hit him as he landed in an alleyway. Evans was going to think he was so late to their meetup.

Fuck.

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whimsicalethnographies · 6 years ago

Text

My Thoughts on Endgame

Major spoilers and a TL;DR on how it all collapsed under its own wibbly wobbly timey wimey logic

So, to start, it was fine. Like, it was just fine. There were parts I liked, parts I hated, parts I refuse to except as canon (and may not have to), and parts that just didn’t make any damn sense.

And at the bottom of it all, is how the movie was “a gift to the fans” and, while unspoken, a swan song. The fan service was TOO heavy, and it really felt as though they thought of their fanservice moments, and then built the story around those, rather than building a story and finding fanservice moments to sneak in.

Ok, things I liked:

There were genuinely funny moments, most of which didn’t feel smushed in. Nobody likes the stairs Hulk, and I’m glad that Steve has accepted that sometimes his Cap lines are a little Too Much.

While I hated the death, I do like that Tony Stark is literally the messiah of the universe. He didn’t owe anybody anything anymore, but he still took the step and made the sacrifice to protect his wife and his reality and his children. Plural.

I did like Tony being done, wanting out, yelling at the group. He was at his end and couldn’t do it anymore, and while there are legit discussions to have about CW--I think they were both wrong in a way--but the fact is he was right about the greater threat and nobody believed him.

I can’t believe a dorky photo of Peter Parker looking like a fish and messing up bunny ears and Tony Stark not smiling saved the universe.

Tom Holland is gonna win an Oscar some day. I knew what happened going in--I HATE not knowing--so while I got teary during several points, I started blubbering when he said, “we won, Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark, we won. You did it, sir.”

RDJ should win an Oscar for this. There were moments that were OOC but he still put everything into it. Him, Nat, and Peter were really the only ones I *felt* in this movie.

Their reunion hug--Peter coming back and being Purely Peter, and Tony looking at him, like oh my god, he’s exactly the same and I can’t believe he’s rambling like this I missed him so much.”

“Activate Instant Kill!” Oh, my sweet baby boy Peter. You kept the gauntlet safer than longer than anyone.

Tony Stark has been my Pretend Superhero Dad since I first saw Iron Man in 2008 in a dollar theater while munching on a sneaked-in Whopper. He is Iron Dad, both to Morgan and his Spider-son and he took an extra step, one he didn’t have to do, to make sure they both made it ok.

Also, and I love Carol, but Thanos yeeted her the fuck off the field with the power stone. Tony Stark withstood the power stone using his nanotech shield on Titan. Most Powerful Avenger.

Scott is a joy.

Cap and Mjolnir was an okay scene I enjoyed, but it was a prime example of writing the story around fanservice. Yeah, it was fun, but it was better to imagine he couldn’t fully lift it in AoU because he knew about Bucky and the Starks, so he wasn’t fully worthy.

Now, the things I *didn’t* like:

How did Carol find the Benetar? And how did she get it back?! Like, I know because she’s the embodiment of the Space Stone she technically has omnipresence and/or is capable of light speed, but does that extend to other objects? Wouldn’t it have torn the Benetar apart?

The time jump was *off.* And I have a hard time believing Tony would have just moved on like that. I think he would have tried, but it was too easy, considering.

The strange mismatch between desolation--NYC, arguably the most important city in the world, is a ghost town, while other places are fine? More on infrastructure problems later.

Hulk dabbing. Come on. Was that a joke on Bruce being old and out of touch, or are people still dabbing in 2023?

Thor. Oh Thor. His PTSD was treated as a joke--save his convo with Frigga--and it sucked, especially since they did so well with Tony’s PTSD. That’s the writers, who we all know have had their noses up Cap’s butt since forever.

The fact that it’s implied Pepper knew Tony wasn’t really happy when he went to talk to her about solving time travel. That he wasn’t settled, that this still weighed on him, even when it was hopeless. Why’d she let him build that life then?

“You can rest now.” Yeah, ok. Suffer so much, finally get what you want in your grasp, then your reward is death. See above. It cheapens his sacrifice because it’s implied he was never fully immersed and happy with his life.

Nat got done dirty. I wasn’t ok with it. I know it was supposed to be the final, “erase the red in her ledger” moment but why? Like Tony, she already had.

The infrastructure issues. The universe was halfed, then doubled, five years apart. Even if we accept that all of Peter’s friends and Flash were snapped, still doesn’t fly. See below for a possible out.

Cap. Oh Cap. My guy is dead but at least he’s The Hero. But they ruined Cap’s character. I don’t for a second believe he’d just sit and hide with Peggy. And they discussed heavily what happens when you subtract something from a timeline, and the splits, but what happens when you ADD something? I know the implication is that he was always Peggy’s husband, but it still doesn’t work, for the timelines stuff AND his character. And who’d he steal the shield from? He took something! And I don’t for a single second believe he went to Vormir. Nope. This was Steggy fanfic. And I don’t honestly care, but the fact is that he’s been working on moving FORWARD. A man out of his time trying to find himself. He literally took a step backwards.

Ok, adding on to that, the timey wimey nonsense. The movie spent SO MUCH TIME explaining the logic of their own rules and then don’t follow them. Here are some diagrams from my childhood bestie who gets time shit more than I do.

Apparently here is what they were trying.

They seesaw back and forth, but in the end Timeline F is the same as Timeline A, or the one they started from.

BUT, here’s her diagram of what actually happened:

It’s a big fat mess, and if the End Timeline is F, then the timeline where Tony snaps is D, and it got very confusing very fast. She’s going to type it up for me, but apparently the last third of the movie can’t exist per their own logic, least of all the end, especially because we don’t know exactly what Tony wished for. Was it the destruction of Thanos? What happens when you add a past to a future then delete that past? Where’s that timeline? What happened with Steve’s stuff? LOKI? A1 never ended because they literally took it. It’s not there anymore. Steve stealing the Pym Particles?! He took something and didn’t put it back. Another branch off. Did Tony wish, “give me what I need to fix this?” IF he did that, she posits, he smushed the timelines together to make everything coherent, AND potentially fix the infrastructure issues, so while A Tony’s BODY may have died, which Tony was it? Did he have a moment in the soul stone, like Thanos? Is that a requirement? What did he do/say there? (Also, just pointing out, never trust a funeral without a body, and the power of the Soul Stone is literally that no death is permanent. That’s its canonical power!!)

There’s so much mess and I’ll have more when my friend sends along her stuff. But I have NO problem deleting most of this from my mind, and I already have ideas to fix it, but I’ll leave those stories in the hands of people better able to tell them (I’m looking at you, @iron--spider) because I’m a dialogue bitch myself.

I told @iron--spider last night I felt adrift, and typing this out I know why. I’m not mourning, I’m not excited. I’m devastated by Tony’s death but there’s so many logic holes my brain isn’t even struggling to see a way around it. I’m livid about Steve, because he went backwards. Thor’s trauma was played for laughs. I have no satisfaction because of ALL THE HOLES, and because they literally wrote a story around fanservice--a huge amount of it their own--instead of writing the story and then adding fanservice to it.

It was fine. I’ll probably buy it when it’s released, but I don’t need to see it again. And I’m curious about Far From Home because of the infrastructure but I don’t know if I’ll wait until it’s out on video just because I don’t have any urge to watch Peter Parker mourn another parent.

In the meantime, until the fix-its start rolling in, here’s a ready-made fix-it that Iron--spider wrote last year, to hold us through: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15183011/chapters/35211239

It was fine. And so full of holes it doesn’t even cement its own canon, despite what Disney officially decided to put on the big screen.

“I recognize the council has made a decision, but given that it’s a stupid-ass decision, I’ve elected to ignore it.”

#endgame spoilers #avengers endgame spoilers #get on this best writers #there's so many outs

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ashphoenix06 · 6 years ago

Text

The Magic Show... Part One (jse ego universe)

“Uuuuhhhhhh..... Marv? I don’t thing you should be messing with that... it doesn’t look.... normal.”

Jackie sat crossed leg on on of the chairs, watching Marvin pour himself into another magician’s book he had found in an old resale shop. Marvin took a quick glance up and huffed.

“Relax, Jackie.... I know what I’m doing...”

“Really,” Jackie said sarcastically, bending his head slightly to see the cover, “because I’m almost certain that that’s Latin and it looks omnious to me...”

Marvin lowered the book down to give Jackie a criticizing look. Yeah, he loved Jackie like a brother, but sometimes, he could be a little.... ditzy.

“Since when do you know Latin,” Marvin asked.

Jackie shot back from his leaning perch, his cheek’s glowing red with embarrassment.

“I said it looks like Latin,” he retorted. “I never said I could... Shut the fuck up, Marv!”

Marvin lost it and started laughing. This just made Jackie lower himself into the chair and brood. Marvin hadn’t meant to hurt Jackie’s feelings, it was just always hilarious how he reacted whenever he was caught nor knowing something.

“I’m sorry, dude,” Marvin giggled, wiping tears from his left eye. “Leave the magic to me, k? You just worry about you ‘Spidey’ patrol.”

“Hey,” Jackie exclaimed, pointing a finger right up at him. “Being a vigilante with no powers isn’t as easy as it sounds.”

“I’m sure,” Marvin smirked, burying his head back into the book. Thats why they got along so well together, Marvin thought to himself. They were the only two... ‘eccentric ones’ out of the group. Chase did his extreme videos, though after Stacey left him, that started to dwindle down some. Schneep was a doctor, which was self explanatory. And JJ... JJ really didn’t do much but stay at home, considering he was a mute.

Marvin and Jackie were the only two that were more... out of the box, of that was the term for it. Jackie always wanted to help others as much as he could, but not like Schneep did as a doctor. Jackie was more opened about his emotions and a little bit eccentric; calling others out that he saw doing wrong in public. Eventually, he got tired of really doing nothing to help the people he saw in trouble, so he decided to become a vigilante. The others weren’t too happy with his decision, considering he tend to come home most nights beaten and bruised. Schneep was the one, besides Marvin, that fussed at him most about it. But his resolve was never wavered and he would go back out that very night.

Marvin, on the other hand, fell in love with the art of magic and conjuring from as far back as he could remember. He would read up on tricks and allusions constantly; going to the others after to perform them with perfect accuracy. The others would be thoroughly impressed with his feats, minus Schneep, who would huff and always make a comment on it not being real. In fact, Marvin took his passion for magic so seriously, that he started performing for audiences and would pour himself over studies and historical documents concerning the magical arts. That’s how he came across this particular book of spells. He was rummaging around a resale shop that had just opened up and found this gem among other tattered and broken books. He had recognized some of the symbols within and immediately made his purchase.

As soon as he got home, he went out to the backyard to his makeshift little theater that he practiced in and started studying. Jackie wandered outside to start his patrol a bit earlier that day and caught Marvin studying his new book. He had plopped down in one of the six chairs and had kept Marvin company ever since. They were always there for one another like like that.

Jackie looked around for a bit, scratching at his beard when Marvin found a perfect spell to try out. He was able to translate ‘levitation’ from the Latin and sprang into action, jump scaring Jackie right out of his chair.

“Dammit, Marv,” Jackie spat out, rubbing his backside as he stood up from the grass, “Can you say something next time before you give me a fucking heart attack!”

Marvin ignored him as he ran to his outside truck, a plastic bin to prevent the elements from ruining everything. He opened the lid and rummage through the things inside until he came back with a Spider-Man glass.

“Hey, that’s mine,” Jackie pointed out but Marvin waved him off, going back into the book to see what he had to do to make the cup float.

“Huh... I can’t make out any instructions on any wires or clear string,” he murmured, holding his hand out towards the cup as he kept reading. “All that’s here is an incantation...”

His brow furrowed as he murmured what was written in the book, oblivious to everything else around him. He almost didn’t register Jackie’s shocked stammering.

“M.... Marv? H... h... hey, MARVIN?”

“What, Jackie,” Marvin hissed as he looked up but words left him as he saw what Jackie was pointing at. The Spider-Man cup was floating right in front of him, green flames flickering from his hand and under the cup...

Marvin jerked his hand away and stared at as the cup feel to the ground, breaking into big, jagged pieces.

“My cup....” Jackie whispered, a little bewildered over what had just happened. Marvin just kept staring at his hand, flexing it into a fist, releasing and then flexing it again. He looked up into the distance, completely frozen at what he had just done. He felt Jackie squatting down next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey... Marv. Come on, man... say something! Are you okay?”

Jackie’s light shakes brought Marvin back from his frozen state and he turned to look at him. He tried to form words, but they just wouldn’t come up.

“Marv.... Hey! Okay, that’s it! I’m getting rid of this book and getting Schneep to come take a look at you!”

Jackie had gotten up and was heading towards the book. Marvin realized that he must of tossed the book away from him at some point and began to panic.... he... he needed to read more!

“Jackie, stop,” he yelped out, tackling Jackie down by his legs. His friend looked down in surprise before he stumbled and fell hard into the grass. Marvin took the opportunity to leap over the stunned vigilante and grab the book, running to the far corner of his prop stage and desperately combing through the pages. He didn’t know how to explain what had happened but he had never felt more powerful in all his life, and he wanted more!

“Marv...” Jackie groan, moving around and coming out of his daze. Marvin glared at him like a wild animal before going back to the book, flipping page after page, trying to find one particular spell he had only ever read about.

There it was! At the end of the book! Marvin was able to make out the translation... “Gift of Magical Abilities”.........

“Marvin,” Jackie gasped, struggling to get to his feet. Marvin ignored him as his ambitions got the better of him. There it was... right in front of him... his ticket to actual magical abilities... something he’d always dreamed of.

Reading the spell with quick speed, he started mummering the incantation as Jackie stumbled over to him, arm outstretched. Marvin pulled out a pocket knife from his pocket and grabbed it with his right hand, slicing his hand right down the middle. He barely registered the pain as he dug his other hands fingers in the wound, usuing his own blood to paint out a mystical pattern onto the floor.

Closing his eyes, he muttered the last part of the spell; slapping his bloodied hand right in the middle of the symbol. Instantly, he was hit with a boiling heat shooting throughout his body, his eyes snapping open yet unable to see. He barely heard Jackie as he felt the transition taking over him, burning his body inside out as well as sending chilling icy blood throughout his body. He could barely breathe, the impact of his dna morphing causing everything in his body to halt. He felt a burst of energy explode from inside him and then as quickly be absorbed back in as he fell to the ground, the world darkening with his decent. He was out before he hit the ground.

When Marvin woke next, it was way into nighttime, the sky a inky purplish-black. He looked into the sky for a minute, feeling that something was off with what he was staring at. It took him a minute to see through his blinding headache that there were no stars in the sky.

Startled, he turned to his side and propped himself on his one elbow. As he gazed around his surroundings, he felt his heart drop. This was his backyard, but it was off; like one of Picasso’s paintings. Things seemed blurred and smeared, nothing in his field of vision sharp and dignified... except for...

“Jackie,” Marvin stammered, focusing on the one thing that wasn’t blurred. His friend laid a little ways away, completely still... Jackie was never still.

“Jackie? .... JACKIE?”

Marvin crawled as fast as he could to his friend and shook him violently, causing Jackie’s still form to fall onto his back. Marvin choked on his words as tears fell into his eyes. What... what had he done?

Jackie was looking up into the sky, eyes lifeless and dull. Blood leaked in a little stream down the side of his mouth. Protruding from his chest was a big, jagged sliver of the broken cup.

“No... no.... fuck, fuck, fuck! JACKIE!”

Marvin shook Jackie’s body as hard as he could, but his friend never responded. Marvin shook his head, unwilling to accept what he saw before him. Sorrowful cries escaped from his throat as he buried his face into Jackie’s still chest, muffling his cries.

Why? Why did he have to do it? He shouldn’t of been too absorbed! He should of noticed Jackie! He should of gone for Schneep.

As his mind raced with all the what if’s he could come up with, he felt himself bristle as a small, darkened entity formed behind him and his dead brother.

“You can save him.... Marvin the MAGNIFICENT....”

This is prompt 3 of 4 @glitchbicth asked me to write. This one is going to be in two parts. The second one will be posted tomorrow. And yes, this does take place way before ‘Pinky Promise’ and ‘Swe Dreams.’

I hope you guys enjoy. 💚💚💚

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye community #jacksepticeye fandom #jacksepticeye pma #jse pma #jse community #jacksepticeye fanfiction #fanfic #jacksepticegos #pma #jse fandom #jse egos #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #jse fanfiction

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tiemeupspidey · 7 years ago

Text

Angel

Series: Peter Parker Imagines

Relationship: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter and the Reader like each other but one another think they don’t like on another.

Warnings: Cuteness and Peter being a love sick puppy

Word Count:1,400+

A/N:Hope you all enjoy this imagine xx :)

[Reader’s POV]

“Did you hear about the explosion that happened the other night?” Your friend Lilith asks hugging her binder to her chest.

Nodding your head the two of you talk about what happened as the two of you walk down the hall. A fight broke out at a bank between Spider-Man and some robbers. The weapon they used destroyed the building and the sandwich shop across the street. You were heading home that night from a graffiti session. The paint residue still on your hands from the night before.

“Spider-Man is so cool but who knows how old he really is” she rambles on and on. Your eyes looking at a head of curls pass by. Letting out a sigh when you see him enter the guys locker room.

“hellooooo” Lilith drags out waving her hand in front of your face. Blinking a couple time you give her a forced smile. She rolls her eyes as she opens the girls locker room door.

Getting dressed you set your book bag inside your locker. Locking it back up you pick up your sketchbook and pencils. Walking out with a group of people you head to the stands. Sitting on the bleachers with your friends you all quiet down when the coach walks over.

The class watches a video of Captain America talking about working out. Before you look down you see the head of curls from before. He was leaning over whispering to his friend. Whatever he said making his friend look over at him shocked.

After the videos are over you watch as everyone disperses from the bleachers. Standing up you step down the steps and sit at the bottom. The coach gives you a thumbs up as you sigh looking at everyone working out.You had a spine condition that effected the way you work out. The only exercise you did was biking from home to school everyday. So everyday you draw and watch people workout.

Opening your sketchbook you start sketching Spider-Man from what you remember. The night you met him was one you wouldn't forget. His voice as well was branded in your mind. You knew if you heard his voice you would know exactly who he was. Dragging the pencil against the paper you start sketching the pose.

As time went on you were finishing up details of the suit. Too bad you didn't bring your alcohol based markers to color it. Feeling a presence beside you makes you look up from your sketch book. Lilith was sitting next to you as she fixed her messy bun. She smiles at you before shifting her body facing yours. Her eyes land on the drawing of the masked hero.’’

[Peter's POV]

"let me be the guy in the chair"

"No Ned" I huff out doing sit ups faster my abs slightly aching. Thank god for this spider strength that I can get through this. Before my powers I was a pathetic little worm.

"Oh my god you drew Spider-Man? Look at your book it's filled! Do you like him or something?" I hear Lilith shout from the stands. Looking back I see her holding a book. Seeing the pages she flipped through full of red and blue. My heart racing seeing the girl of my dreams trying to reach for the book. My nickname for her is Angel , it's Ned and I's codename for her.

"So what if I do" she snatches her book pulling it to her chest. A small smile on her face as she looks away from Lilith.

Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, strands of hair falling by her face. Her glasses falling down the bridge of her nose as she looks down. She sits back down on the stands setting her feet up. Halloween crew socks over her leggings, they looked good with her white and black Vans.

"Dude did you hear that? She's into Spider-Man, aka you" Ned whispers patting my leg with a grin on his face. A blush tinting my cheeks at the thought of her liking Spider-Man,me. I’m Spider-Man.

"Shut up Ned, she would never notice m-"

"Peter knows Spider-Man!" Ned blurts out making her head look over at me. She adjusts the glasses on her nose tilting her head to the side. The others in the room look over at me making me nervous. Looking back at Ned and then back to her.

She walks over to Ned and I sitting down on the floor next to my mat. Her legs crossed as she sets her book in her lap. Readjusting myself on the mat I sit up completely. Flash makes a snarky remark making people laugh.

“St-Stark Internship.. I see him around” I stutter not believing that she’s talking to me.

"So you really know him? My dad works with him.. I've never seen him though just heard his voice" her hands open up the book showing me her drawings. Taking the book I flip through the pages of drawings.

"Woah! these are wicked awesome" I smile down at them admiring the detailing on my suit. The detailing on my suit hasn't been seen on headlines. That's odd.

"See you around Peter" she smiles brushing her hand against mine grabbing her book. Standing up she walks over to Lilith walking towards the locker room.Lilith was bubbly and bouncing walking next to her. "Ned what the heck" I groan pushing my best friend.

[Reader's POV]

Walking out to the part of school following Peter. I see him check left to right before he jumps over the gate of the school. Turning you rest your back against the wall. A huge smile on your face because you knew just by his voice. Holding your sketchbook to your chest ,you make your way outside the building. Walking straight to the parked car waiting for you.

Getting in the car you set your bag down on the seat. Opening up your bag you set your sketchbook inside. Taking your hair out of the ponytail and running your fingers through your hair. The divider slides down revealing a familiar smiling face.

"Hey Happy! Any cool things happen today?" you ask him buckling your seatbelt. He nods starting the car and pulling out into the lane.

"Spider-Mans new suit is ready" he says hitting the gas to speed through a light.

"I can't wait to see, I'm sure it looks fantastic" looking out the window you watch as the buildings blurred by.

"Dad I got an a on my Chemistry test" You smile waving the paper in the air. His chair spins around revealing him with a smile on his face.

"That's my smart girl, gets it from her dad" standing up he pulls you into a warm hug. You were going to let go but he holds you tightly against him.

"By the way.. I found your spray cans again, is that where the money I give you goes to?" his voice sounding disappointed.

"I only spray in random parts dad.. nobody noticed me but I was caught on-"

"Caught? by who?" his voice stern making you flinch. Pulling out your sketchbook you open it pointing to Spider-Man"

"Spidering caught you huh? Be careful please.. I could build you a spray painting simulator so you're not actually damaging prop-"

"What's the fun in that?" you smirk crossing your arms over your chest.

"Mr. Stark I put on the new suit!" the door opens making you turn around. Peter barges in with a smile that drops once he sees you.

"Shit!" Peter runs out of the room, you running after him. Sure he has spider strength but not spider speed. Pulling Peter's hand he looks back at you, fear in his eyes.

"Peter, I've known you're Spider-Man since you saw my art today.."

"How could you possibly have know it was me?" He asks crossing his suited arms over his toned chest.

"You had the same reaction to my Spider-Man piece I was spray painting the other night.. I couldn't get your voice out of my mind" you blush smiling up at Peter. His eyes grow at your confession.

"Peter!" Your dad's voice booms from the hallway making you both look in that direction.

"Fuck" the two of you say simultaneously looking at each other.

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potter-imagines · 7 years ago

Text

First Impressions - Peter Parker

Prompt: Y/n Stark is left alone for the weekend as the Avengers are out of town. Her dad decides to send a good friend of his over to spend the day with his daughter although forgets to mention anything to Y/n about it leading her to find an intruder in her kitchen. Not all first impressions are great.

Words: 5,391

Warnings: Maybe three swear words

Rain kissed the filthy sidewalks of Manhattan in a baptizing fashion. The water droplets rid the city of it’s sin by simply showering over head. Y/n Stark watched the mesmerizing scenery from her bedroom window seat, in awe of the beauty. An old throw blanket was snuggled to her body as she leaded her head on the wood of the sill capturing the view below. The rain picturfully had no effect of the daily life of the city goers as they all continued rushing around, the only change was the addition of umbrellas. Most were black, few clear and a rare bit of yellow. The color of the tarps pulled Y/n in allowing her to calculate the amount of vibrant souls and those unlike the rest.

For the moment being she could see thirty or so dark coverings, three rainbow patterns, one red with black polka dots, a child umbrella resembling a frog, and two summer sky blue umbrellas.

With squinted eyes rain boots were still not visible but that was alright. This was her favorite weather and Y/n Stark had the intention of watching the show all day. Well that was until her stomach growled in agony.

Home alone meant freedom to most but to Y/n, it was loneliness. No one around for days, no conversation, no laughter, no smiling faces, no sassy comments, and no family. Defeated, Y/n peeled the blanket back and escaped from the material walking to her bedroom door.

She peeked out the frame, basking for a moment in the tranquility of the compound. Bucky and Sam weren’t bickering, Nat wasn’t causing mayhem alongside Clint, Steve wasn’t scolding, Wanda wasn’t helping Vision cook, Tony and Bruce weren’t helping Y/n with her lab assignments, and Pepper wasn’t lecturing Y/n on her weekend plans. For once, it was nice.

Pepper was gone on a business trip which meant Y/n had no mom either for the short lived weekend. Of course tomorrow was a school day so there wasn’t much room for trouble to be caused. Either way the young girl followed the path towards the kitchen in search of food to fulfil her needs.

School was a month away from being released and finding herself drained from endless studying, Y/n was not fully aware of her surroundings as she strolled into the highly equipped kitchen.

Her mouth opened largely as an unladylike noise erupted mirroring some type of a yawn. Thankfully with the Avengers off on some type of ‘bonding mission’ to try and rebuild burnt bridges, Y/n Stark could make whatever noise she wanted too and also had no worries on her appearance, not that she ever did when they were around. Clint would tease her for her ‘homeless’ look but that was as bad as it got.

She wondered for a moment if the new recruit her dad picked up had joined the team for their small task. From what she hear and what she saw from videos, he was pretty cool. He called himself Spider-Man, or Spider-Boy, Y/n couldn’t recall. Anyways he was around her age from what she inferred but there wasn’t much to go off of.

His real name was Peter Parker and without much knowledge he had managed to steal the girl’s attention and she was sure he didn’t even know her first name. There was some element to him that intrigued her despite the lack of information she had on him.

The two, born only months apart, had never once shared a conversation. They were never properly introduced, never crossed paths, never brought into topic of discussion and never seen.

The ambitious Stark was determined to get to know the only other person in the compound her age and made an effort daily. She pretended to be working in Tony’s lab in hopes of the pair, or just Peter, to waltz in. Then her dad, having no other choice unless extremely awkward, would have to introduce them. Y/n trained extra hours in the gym pushing her body to the brink of over exhaustion just to open up her window more to his arrival but he was never there. For crying out loud she had no idea what he even looked like, all she heard was conversations about him and that was enough to further her interest.

For a while she wondered if he was purposefully ignoring her, maybe Tony had warded him off or possibly Steve did. She had no idea but told herself they were bound to run into each other eventually.

Padding around the freshly swept floor Y/n opened up the cupboard harboring her favorite cereal, Lucky Charms. She smiled in delight and closed the door knowing her dad was bluffing. He tried to replace all the seemingly unhealthy breakfast items with whole wheat only products but Y/n agreed that no one was capable of that level of evil. She was sure Thor threatened him as he tried to throw out the sugary poptarts.

Snatching a clear glass bowl from the cabinet and the cold milk from the fridge Y/n pictured her cozy spot on the couch spending the day peacefully there. Although as she turned around the sight before her eyes was not one she expected. Behind her, entirely starstruck, was a blushing teenage boy. He was sat as quiet as a mouse at the kitchen counter digging in to a bowl of Lucky Charms himself. A cup of orange juice was to the left of his bowl and his brightly lit phone on the right.

Neither spoke, instead staring suspiciously at one another. The bowl in her hands suddenly felt heavy and the milk was set aside on the marble top. She carefully placed the bowl and cereal down on the table watching the boy’s every move though it wasn’t much. Y/n wondered how she had missed him when she entered the room. Had she really been too tired to miss the other presence? What was he even doing here?

He looked harmless for the most part though that didn’t stop Y/n from dissecting him. A loose fitting light navy blue sweatshirt cascaded down his front. She scanned the logo trying to place it but nothing came. ‘Midtown School of Science & Technology’. That didn’t sound like any college she had toured. The print resembled an atom reading an establishment year of 1962 below. Who was this kid?

The boy on the other hand was in complete awe at the sight before him. Never in his life had he seen such a picture perfect view. The girl was roughly his age, maybe a year older but her looks told a story of its own. Her natural features were breathtaking and the shine from the light above her head casted down perfectly created a sort of stage light around her making her appear even more angelic than first seen. Small parade of freckles were sparkled around her nose and cheeks like someone had blown a handful of glitter in her face and it stuck.

She seemed sharp despite her lack of words. The teenager already saw the Stark in her from the second her laid eyes on her. He had money riding on her being brilliant beyond her years and far more witty than most. Her voice was sure to sound like a soothing lullaby, sweet like honey. Lost in her trance the boy let his guard down and found himself stuck on her.

Not in the mood to take any chances Y/n quickly formed a plan of action. Her e/c eyes darted to his unlocked Iphone then back at him. He followed her gaze, unsure of her thoughts. Now was her slot.

Lunging forward Y/n swiped the cellphone from the smudgeless counter and bolted to the nearest room containing a lock. That happened to be the bathroom. Before she found herself in safety the intruder placed his hand around her wrist lightly tugging her backwards. She heard him talking though paid no mind to his words.

Without hesitation Y/n spun around and gave him a swift uppercut roundhouse kick to his jaw. The teen crumbled in pain releasing her and aiding to his wound. She swung the door open in panic and locked in behind her shoving anything she could in front of the door to barricade it.

Jumping from the window wasn’t an option seeing as she was on the seventh floor and the fall was sure to create damage. Instead she resulted to hiding in the shower for the time being and concentrating on the phone in her possession. Her fingers rapidly typed in the all too familiar number- and no not the emergency line which was logical. The image of her father popped up the second she hit the call button and confusion flooded. She took in the other title of ‘speed dial 2’ under Mr. Stark and almost dropped the device. A voice came from the other end of the line making Y/n snap back to reality. Bringing the phone up to her ear she heard the exasperated sound of her dad’s voice.

“What do you need Spider-boy, I’m sort of in the middle of something.”

“Spider-boy… dad it’s me! It’s Y/n! I need you to come home right away, there’s someone in the house please!” Her brows were furrowed together at his words. Tony Stark didn’t even question who was calling. Had he already saved the contact? That would’ve meant he was familiar with the owner. She ignored it and instead focused on the importance of saving her life.

“Woah, woah, slow down. Who is in the house? Y/n where are you?” His panic was evident as Tony separated himself from the team who were currently in the middle of a staged rescue.

“I’m hiding in the bathroom and I don’t know who it is! He has brown hair and brown eyes. He’s wearing a shirt and it says Midtown High or something like that! I stole his phone and- dad why are you on his speed dial?” The million dollar question was shared across the line earning a chuckle from Tony. Y/n checked the phone again just to be sure she wasn’t hallucinating and there it was. A handful of the Avengers approached Tony, curious to see what was going on. They sensed his fear from the first word he spoke and stood idly by.

“The kid has me on speed dial, how cute.” The group of Avengers sigh in relief, happy the situation was of no harm. They dispersed back to the original task expect Bruce, Thor, Nat and Steve who waited in the background. In order to complete the task they needed Tony’s help.

On the other end of the phone Y/n was left in the dark and still buzzing with freight. “What? You know him?”

“Oh yeah, that’s Peter Parker. I sent him over to check on you and keep you company, guessing I probably should’ve warned you.” Y/n’s mouth hit the floor. Not only had she just made a fool out of herself in front of her unidentified crush, she ran away from him and stole his phone!

“You think?” She huffed in annoyance. Her back was placed flat up against the bathroom door trying to hear for the boy outside. Abruptly Y/n pushed herself to standing straight and let out a yelp. “Oh my god.”

The opposite end of the line spoke up upon the escalated tone of the caller. Tony signalled for his team to hold their conversations and motioned towards the jet already deciding his daughter needed saving. Banner and Thor were already one step ahead practically sprinting towards their homebound journey. Rolling his eyes at his partner's actions Tony stated his concern as the rest of the group listened in.

“What, are you alright? Talk to me, sweetheart. What’s going on?” Natasha stepped forward waiting for his call. She was ready to rush back to the compound in your rescue. Steve Rogers was close behind her and glanced around for the rest of his team knowing if you were in legitimate danger they needed to act quick. Just as the super soldier went to search for the other’s he caught word of the billionaire’s young daughter’s humiliated tone.

“Dad, I kicked him in the face.” She groaned. Out of all the things to do when a handsome boy is in your kitchen and she attempted to knock him out cold! In her defence she was unaware of his arrival so she viewed him only as an intruder but still! Tony’s eyes widened in surprise- clearly not expecting your confession but he was pleased with it nonetheless.

“That’s my girl.”

A proud smile laced Black Widow’s face and made sure to remember to congratulate you when she arrived. Tony gave a large smirk and waved the two lethal Avengers off, silently telling them everything was fine and to continue on with the bonding. Steve nodded once and vanished to Bruce and Thor figuring he should tell them to stand down. Tony chuckled at Y/n’s ranting self, finding the situation extremely amusing.

“This isn’t funny! What do I do?”

“First, get out of the bathroom. You’re a Stark and you can kick anyone’s ass. Secondly, apologize to the poor kid. He’s probably scared out of his mind and in pain. Believe me if you kick anywhere near as hard as you punch, he’s gonna be hurting. I should know.”

Mr. Stark had been on the wrong end of his child’s powerful blow far too many times. From simple training sessions to releasing her anger of being denied a night out with friends, Tony had taken it all. Alongside a handful of icing and heating pad dates. All he could imagine was his unbiological prodgie having a near death panic attack in his million dollar living room all because he raised his daughter in an enviornment where everyone wanted her as some kind of leverage to use against him- and for the fact he forgot to mention the guest to her.

Y/n nodded to herself and placed her hand on the crystal door knob. Her heart felt like a small humminbird as it pounded ruthlessly in her chest. Working up the courage she twisted the handle and pulled it open an inch, peeking out. Seeing the coast was clear she decided to fill her father in on her future actions seeking approval.

“Okay, I’m gonna go see if he’s alright.”

Tony Stark smiled faintly at her voice. For a girl who appeared as innocent as a field of lilies, she was a force to be reckoned with. She contained the strength of a warrior and a heart of gold.

“Sounds good, sweetheart. Call me if anything else comes up, love you.”

Y/n released the heavy air she had trapped inside and bobbed her head, trying to reassure herself all was fine.

“Love you too, dad.” She pulled the phone from her ear awaiting the clink to cut off the line but once she went to press the red button a voice stopped her.

“Oh and Y/n?” Tony added on. The girl brought the device back to its former position against her ear and replied,

“Yeah?” The line grew quiet for a moment or two before Tony finished his thought. She was assuming it was bound to be a light scolding although she was pleasantly taken aback at the outcome.

“Don’t tell your mom this but I’m proud of you.” After that the beep came and the phone returned to its previous stage of the default background photo. Y/n’s heart warmed at her father’s words. Tony Stark wasn’t much for the mushy parenting gig. Sure he passed out hugs on occasions and ‘I love yous’ didn’t come rare, Y/n was sure she had yet to hear those words come from his mouth. It was an unexplainable feeling to describe when she processed it.

‘Proud of her’... Tony prided himself on the most lenient level of tough love for his daughter. No he didn’t go to the extremes as he had experienced himself- he didn’t dare. But it was important to Tony that Y/n learned how to work for things, to earn what she strived for. He didn’t let her leave her room until all her homework was done because he refused to let MIT and Harvard accept her based solely on her last name.

Both Tony and Pepper agreed on a curfew of eight for school nights and eleven on the weekends. Y/n had thrown a fit to herself in her room on this rule more than once but sadly she understood their reasoning. They taught their daughter that even though her image was entirely her choice, it didn’t hurt to be smart about it. She had a lot riding on her and a huge weight thrown on her shoulders, if Tony being strict was what she needed to feel like some of that was lifted off, then he would gladly do so.

Y/n allowed herself an up and down full body scan of her attire before exiting her shelter. Her hair was tossed up in a messy bun, a majority of it collapsing on her left side. She looked like she was carrying the Leaning Tower of Pisa on her head.

Pulling the band out of her hair with a yank Y/n combed through her main and managed to fix most of the disaster. Luckily her outfit wasn’t a huge mess. Sure sporting a pair of red and black warm flannel pants was no first pick, it could’ve been a lot worse. At least she had pants on. Her trusty old grey and red Boston College t-shirt provided a bit of comfort easing her into the confrontation.

Finally she stepped out of hiding and started wandering around the floor in search of the new comer. The kitchen was empty as well as the hall so she resorted to calling out his name instead.

“Peter? Peter Parker?” She poked her head around the corner towards the elevator and sure enough there he was.

“Hey uh, hi- um yeah that’s me. I… think I’m gonna head back uh, figured you’d want to be alone, y’know?” He mumbled awkwardly. The elevator door hinged open and Y/n’s heart sank in disappointment. She tried to speak up and ask him to stay but her mouth refused to operate. Instead she shook her head and hoped that would settle for enough. Peter’s eyes shifted from the metal box to the girl in front of him and before he could make up his mind the two door slid close and the elevator carried on its route. He was confused by her actions. It wasn’t everyday he took a foot to the face.

Y/n Stark stepped towards the boy who hesitantly stumbled back. Guilt erupted and a terrible taste consumed her mouth. He feared she was ready to unleash all sorts of hell on him. The last thing he wanted was to get screamed at by a Stark for being an idiot. Although she shocked him as she gave an apologetic smile and sincere eyes.

“Peter I am so sorry for kicking you. I didn’t know who you were and you scared me so I acted on instincts. I hope your okay.” She explained hoping that her words could mend the event. His moon like orbs traveled down to her hand then to her stare again. Y/n examined her grasp and sighed, “Oh, and sorry for stealing your phone, here.” Extending her hand forward Y/n watched as Peter accepted her offering and let his phone fall into the pocket of his blue jeans. A boyish grin perched his face as he looked up at Y/n.

“No, no, no. Don’t worry about it, that was my fault. I probably shouldn’t sit in someone’s kitchen and not introduce myself. I had just assumed your dad told you I was coming over, I didn’t know so sorry about that.” To say he felt like a total creeper slash stalker was highly an understatement. All he could think of was how her forever impression of him was to be him sitting in her kitchen staring at her like a lovestruck puppy.

But was he really to blame for his reaction! She was gorgeous beyond compare to any girl Peter had ever laid eyes on. He was bashful to admit he had search the girl more than once on social media but nothing obsessive. She was Tony Stark’s daughter for crying out loud! For a while Peter was sure she was fake, it didn’t seem possible for someone to hold that much pure beauty inside and out. Y/n Stark appeared to be perfect.

Peter was snagged to reality as he watched the radiating girl run a hand through her h/l locks. She seemed stressed and he couldn’t help but feel responsible.

“Don’t be sorry, Peter. This is all my fault.” She said. The hall was empty besides the pair which she was thankful for. Peter’s posture was a bit more relaxed and not as gated which made Y/n ease up.

Peter dug his hands into the front of his jean pockets trying to play it cool or rather mask his shakiness. All Starks had a similar intimidating affect to them but Y/n’s differed immensely from her father’s. She had no cocky demeanor, no self obsessed conceitedness rather so a positive alluring personality that made one feel as if they had been close acquaintances with her for years when they had only just met.

Running a hand over his burning jaw Peter shrugged his shoulders and laughed.

“No it’s not, really. You’ve got killer instincts though, it’s pretty impressive.” His comment earned a flash flood of redness across the delicate skin of Y/n’s cheeks. She was flustered by his compliment.

“Thanks.” Meeting his eyes she allowed herself to examine the mark she had made and spending a mere second overlooking it made her see the pain she inflicted. “Holy shit, your jaw! Peter I’m so sorry, come with me I’ll grab some ice!”Her hand wrapped around his palm dragging him in toll. She rounded the corner and they entered the cause of the contusion. Y/n led Peter to the high tops forcing him onto his bottom by placing force on his shoulder. He leaned into the cushion due to her hand pushing him away so she could get a better look.

A gloss flashed across her e/c eyes as she raced to the freezer. There she dug out a whole line up of frozen packets. Some were gel packs, other’s authentic ice and the last few looked to be vegetables used for purposes other than cooking, coming in handy after training. It wasn’t hard to picture to whole team of Avengers scattered around the living room icing their entire bodies with frozen corn and peas.

Peter accepted the first ice pack hoping to please the distressed teen. She wasn’t satisfied enough as she turned back and scoped out the bone chilling freezer for another pack and whatever else would be useful. Not wanting to watch the girl tear her own fridge apart because of him, Peter took the ice off of his tingling jaw and held it up. He showcased his liveliness and motioned towards Y/n.

“I’m fine really-”

“No you’re not and it’s okay to admit it. I can’t believe I did that!” She cried out. Her sorrow took effect on Peter as he didn’t want her blame herself for a natural reaction. He was Spider-Man! One kick- one thunderous kick, shouldn’t have the power to take him out. Peter wrapped his hand around her arm, catching her as she went to go find supplies in the medical cabinet. His lips curved into a friendly smile trying to reassure her he was okay.

“It hardly even hurts.” Even if that was true there was close to nothing anyone could do for a bruise. Peter prayed it for all the pain he got from it that the mark would at least look cool. Y/n narrowed her gaze and struck a finger in his face.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar, cause you are.”

Peter’s head moved to the side trying to convince her of his lie but she saw right through him. So instead of arguing she played along and decided to test out his theory. In lightning speed she reached her slim finger out and gave the nasty bruise a light tap. His reaction was all she needed for an answer. He nearly fell out of his chair, cradling his jaw in the palm of his hands. A childlike yelp sounded and he shot Y/n a confused stare. She held a smug feature as if taunting him for lying. Peter huffed and threw his hands in the air,

“Yeah it hurts like hell. How the hell did you even move that fast? I swear I didn’t even see it coming like one second I was up then the suddenly your foot kicked me into next year and I was down for good.”

“How can I make this up to you?” Lacking intention she rested her hand slightly above his knee. A wave of uncontrollable shivers shook Peter’s body and his eyes snapped to her position. Y/n muttered a small apology and removed her grasp making Peter’s insides unclench. Cursing himself for letting it show he was fazed Peter stared at the floor waiting for an answer. He wondered if it would be too forward to suggest a date. Why would a girl like her ever want to go out with a nerd like him? Before his brain was done processing the results Peter shot his question,

“Do you like hot chocolate?”

“Huh?” Hot chocolate? What did that have to do with any of this? Sure she loved the warm homey liquid- especially on days like today although the relevance was confusing. Y/n tilted her head at the doe eyed boy and gave a small shrug. Peter sat the ice pack down on the sleek coffee table forgetting about it all together. Y/n previewed the red marks the chilling pad left of the underside of his jaw and creeping along his neck. A blossoming flower of purple and yellow was already blooming as the bruise settled in. Her heart twisted in guilt at the sight.

Peter caught her stare and shivered under the soften eyes. The regret was on display and he was eager to distract her, as well as himself, from the pain. Peter stood up from his spot on and threw his arms up with a smile.

“Hot chocolate? C’mon I know you’re a Stark but your parents had to have made you hot cocoa when you were a kid, right?” He teased her playfully hoping she would take the bait and change the topic, and she did. Although her hand grabbed the frozen package backup and reached up on her tippy toes to hold it against Peter’s jaw. She giggled loudly and nodded her head,

“Of course they did! I love it.” Their eyes met for a brief moment, though it felt like a lifetime. Peter felt her warm radiating off of his body and hold his breath in fear of it staggering. His hand clasped over her own, silenting letting her know he was able to handle the task. Y/n retreated to her normal flat footed state and waited for the conversation to pick back up. The brown haired teen finally released the air he was hiding away and informed her on his idea.

“Okay well there’s a coffee house a block down the street and they claim to have the best cup of hot chocolate, maybe we could test it out and see for ourselves?”

Her brow quirked at his suggestion and her insides went warm with fuz. Feeding off his boost of confidence she made her own,

“Do you like pizza? Cause there’s a pizza place right next to it and I for one am a sucker for pizza and hot chocolate with a cute boy on a rainy day. Maybe throw some movies int0 the mix too when we get back.” The words hadn’t registered entirely. Y/n stepped away wondering if she had made up the extra add on to the end in her head. Her mouth moved faster than her brain. Maybe he hadn’t heard her, or maybe if she moved fast enough she’d get to her room in time to avoid the uncomfortable let down.

Turning in the direction of her room Y/n brushed back the loose strands of her hair that framed her face. She was drowning in a downfall of negative apprehension doubtful if he kind boy had heard her that he’d present a response she liked.

Pondering her wanting to change outfits had been successful as he watched her dismiss herself to her room. Peter chuckled at her idea of a day and stood up from his spot. His feet carried him to the corridor leading to the elevator as their exit.

“Pizza for breakfast? I’m in.” Y/n smiled over her shoulder at him about to enter her room that was until he registered her slip. “Wait did you call me cute?”

As if her day was bound to get any worse. Y/n’s head pressed against her bedroom door as the building anxiety bursted as one giant bubble. Screwing her orbs closed she shuffled her way through lies and cover ups but none fit the situation. Refusing to take a gape at him Y/n nodded her head shamefully.

“Uh, yeah… sorry it kind of slipped I meant-” Footsteps cut her off as the handsome teen appeared by her side. Peter hastily, nervous as well, reach for her hand picking it up from her side and squeezed it gently. His face was brightly lit by a one of a kind smile that she had yet to see on a human being. She was sure her hand was shaking but he didn’t seem to care.

“I can’t ever say I’ve taken a beautiful girl out for pizza and hot chocolate with the promise of movies afterwards so I’m not letting her back down from this offer.” A comfortable silence took over and Y/n found herself smiling like a schoolgirl. Peter had lost his shy bashful ways and seemed a bit more assured, which was good seeing as Y/n had not. She barely managed to get out her response as it was above a whisper but Peter still heard.

“I’ll go get changed then.” A scarlet blush graced her cheek as she jabbed her thumb to her french cut door. Y/n was already searching and scanning for the perfect outfit to go with her favorite pair of sunflower rain boots. By the looks of Peter’s attire she noted to grab him a umbrella as well.

The boy unlaced their hands leaving a cold and loneliness to both of them. The grin had yet to wipe away from his face as he pointed towards the ground.

“I’ll wait here.”

Y/n giggled happily and approved as she tucked away into her room. The moment she closed to door behind her she found herself pressing her hand to her mouth letting out a masked squeal of delight. She planned on getting all of her giddiness out before their date to keep from embarrassing herself further. Her excitement was flooding overboard and she darted to her closet in search of the perfect outfit.

Little did she know outside her door Peter was dong a celebration dance of his own. He had no idea how he scored a date with the most beautiful girl in the world but he vowed not to waste it.

Their first impressions of each other may have started off on the wrong of the wrong foot but it was sure to end better than either of them had planned. Who knew taking a kick to the face would be so worth it?

- Daizy xx

917 notes · View notes

marvelous-heroimagines · 7 years ago

Text

Growing Pains

Requested by: Anonymous (Here [and here] are the specifics)

Pairing: Reader x Peter Parker Word Count: 2.2K Warnings: Angst, fluff?, swearing

A/N: This fic mini series follows a similar, but different, storyline to my 3 part fic series I’m In (reader x Bucky)

To say your boyfriend had been acting cagey, especially since returning from his Stark Internship trip to Germany, would be a colossal understatement. More and more, he was cancelling plans and bailing early on date nights or study days. You were trying your hardest not to think the worst- that he was cheating on you - but you couldn’t ward off the suspicion in your mind. Every time you questioned him about what he was doing late at night, or where he was getting so many bruises from, he would just change the subject or find some way to distract you.

You were at your wits’ end; you were sick of worrying and overthinking every little thing he did. You needed answers, and if you couldn’t get them from him, you’d get them yourself.

Throwing off your doona, you let out an exhausted sigh and flick on your bedside lamp. You consider stopping what you were about to do before you found something you didn’t like; but your stubbornness got the better of you - you always had to finish what you started. And now that your laptop’s screen was blinding you with the light of a thousand suns, you were determined to find your answers.

You’d always been good with computers, so good that you were taking University level classes as part of your curriculum; so finding your answers this way shouldn’t take too much effort. Your fingers hover over the keys as you consider where to start. You didn’t particularly want to go as far as to hack into Peter’s phone account; so you decide to look into his Stark Internship.

You navigate through the Stark website, scouring it for any sign that your boyfriend was one of the current recipients. His name was at the top of the page, next to a small photo of Peter; but the information about why he had received the internship were vague - almost like someone had just thrown a bunch of words onto the page. Every other recipients’ information explained that they invented some world changing device, but not Peter’s. Peter’s information just detailed that he was a kid genius and a real asset to Tony Stark’s company.

You sigh out, something definitely wasn’t adding up. Taking it to the next level, you hack into the Stark website. It only takes you a few minutes, and once you’re in, your confusion only grows. Every other recipients’ information had been coded and posted to the website by the same person - a name you didn’t recognise - but Peter’s was posted by Pepper Potts. The fact that the C.E.O. of Stark Industries had personally crafted Peter’s information page on the website struck you as odd. You were getting somewhere, but now you had more questions than answers.

As the question of where to search next crops up, a thought hits you. A thought that, if acted on, could land you in a lot of trouble. Your fingers rest on the keys, waiting for your brain to tell them what to type. You weighed your options; there was a good chance you wouldn’t be caught, you never had been before. But you’d be going against the promise you’d made your father last year.

After discovering that you were hacking into government databases, he scolded you for being so reckless; you were meddling in actions that could land you in jail. You’d promised to never hack into government or corporate databases again. But you were never caught before, and you doubt that Stark Industries has a better system for detecting hackers than the US government did.

Your fingers start darting across the keys at lightening speed. The Stark Industries database wasn’t easy to get into - by far one of the top operating systems you’ve hacked. But you did hack it. You were in within a matter of 15 minutes. Seeing the database, you take a moment to fully take it in.

There was so much information stored in this one place, it was ridiculous that no one else had gotten in before you. There was video surveillance of every residence Tony Stark owned, including Stark Tower and the Avengers Compound in upstate New York. Not wanting to violate too much of the superhero team’s privacy, you move on. Your mouse lands on a set of files; information on all the Avengers - past, present and missing.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and before you realise you’ve clicked on the files, you’re looking at almost a dozen individual files. There were the heroes you knew of - Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Thor - and many that you didn’t know the real identities of. You can’t stop yourself from looking through each one, too intrigued.

Then your stomach drops, your eyes landing on a name you never thought you’d read in an Avengers members file. Peter Parker. A.K.A. Spider-Man. You audibly gasp. Your boyfriend wasn’t cheating on you, or part of some underground fight club. He was Spider-Man. He was an Avenger.

It all made sense now, vigilantes don’t exactly have time to keep up a normal life; what with all the saving the city every night and taking down villains. Peter’s file told you that he’d been a hero for over a year now; meaning that Peter had been keeping his secret from you for your entire relationship.

Your eyes still glued to the screen, you grasp around aimlessly for your phone. When you can’t find it, you push your laptop off your lap and start to search. Your phone had fallen to the floor, so you pick it up, and as you turn back to your computer your heart stops. You were sure that you hadn’t touched the keys or the mousepad when you pushed it off you, but now your screen was completely black.

You tap the space bar a couple of times, and nothing happens. Your heart starts to race as you panic. You try everything to make your computer come back to life, but nothing works.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself. You’d been caught; you’d spent too long in the database, and the system had found you. Now your laptop was completely dead, and you have no idea how.

Your phone suddenly starts buzzing, causing you to jump. You stare down at your phone screen; Private Number it displayed. Fear flows through you as you stare at it, unmoving and holding your breath. You’d done it now. You’ve been caught and who knew how you would be punished by the wealthiest man in the world.

So you just watch your phone ring out, not wanting to find out who was calling. Your phone screen fades black and you shove both your phone and your laptop under your bed before pulling your doona up around your chin; hoping that this was all a dream and it would all go away when you woke up.

The sunshine streaming through your window warms your face and wakes you before your alarm can. Even though it was a Saturday, you enjoyed waking up early and getting as much done before your trademark lazy Sundays. You roll over and when you find your phone missing from its usual spot on your bedside table, you remember what you did last night. The huge mistake that you’d wished was a dream.

Leaning over your bed, you fish around under it until your fingers find the cool metal of your laptop and phone. Still hoping that last night had been a dream - or nightmare - you slowly open your laptop. You let out a disappointed sigh when it doesn’t light up; and just like last night, you can’t find a way to turn it on.

Your phone told you that you had 18 missed calls from a private number, and 6 from Peter. You rub your face, wishing that you had never hacked into Stark Industries’ database; but you freeze when you hear muffled voices from downstairs. Your heart beat picks up as you try to recognise the male voices.

Your parents were away for a weekend holiday, you said goodbye to them yesterday, so who was downstairs. Your breathing quickens and you slide out of bed. Grabbing the baseball bat that you’d propped against your doorjamb last night, you try to stay silent as you open your door and creep towards the voices.

“Yes!” you hear an older male voice exclaim, “Stocked fridge,”

With your back pressed against the wall, you take a deep breath and try to steady yourself before rounding the archway into the kitchen and confronting the intruders. Trying to psych yourself up, you count down from 3.

You whip around the corner, bat extending back over your shoulder and ready to strike the first person you see. The adrenaline that was now coursing through your veins had you acting on instinct. You bring the bat down, ready to knock out the smaller man, but he turns around just in time and catches your bat mid swing.

“Peter!?” you call out once you recognise your boyfriend, “What the-” your eyes scan the room and you stop in the middle of your sentence when Tony Stark pulls his head out of your fridge.

A smirk creeps onto his face as you stand frozen, staring at him, “Good, you’re up,” he says with amusement.

You notice that Tony doesn’t look angry as you had expected, but you’re still wary, “What are you doing here?” you ask, your eyes sliding back to meet your boyfriend’s gaze.

Peter opens his mouth to speak, but Tony cuts him off, “You, little lady, hacked into my database last night,”

“...What?” you drawl out, trying to sound confused and trying to pretend it wasn’t you, “I don’t know what you-”

“So I don’t owe you a new computer?” Tony retorts with a cocked eyebrow.

You let out a deflating sigh and cross your arms over your chest, “Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude on your privacy... My curiosity just got the better of me,”

“Took you longer than I thought,” Tony says before throwing a handful of blueberries into his mouth.

Your brows knit together, “It took me 15 minutes to hack your system... Which isn’t as good as it should be, by the way,” sass was thick in your tone now, offended by the billionaire’s comment.

Tony chuckles, “I meant it took you longer than I thought to snoop around trying to find Pete’s secret,” your mouth drops open; you’d just been rude to a man that could throw you in jail for hacking his company’s system, “But thanks for the tip,” he says with a playful smirk.

Peter draws your attention by grabbing your arms, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he sighs, “I didn’t want to put you in danger,”

“I understand,” you tell him in a soft voice, “But I did think you were cheating on me,”

Peter’s eyebrows shoot up, “What? Seriously?” you nod, an amused smile on your face, “Never,” you give Peter a kind look and lean in to kiss him, but Tony clears his throat,

“Now, about you hacking my database,” he says as he saunters over to you. You suck in a deep breath, ready for your consequences, and wonder if there’s police outside waiting to slap handcuffs on you, “How would you like a job?”

You blink quickly a few times, caught off guard by his proposal, “W-What?” you stammer,

“A job,” he repeats, “It’ll only be part time, can’t have your grades dropping like Petey’s did when he first put on a suit, but it pays well,”

“I get a suit?” you ask with a confused frown,

“Oh, no,” Tony almost scoffs, “You’ll just be working on coding me a new system... Apparently mine can be hacked by 15 year olds,” Peter stifles a laugh and you have to stop yourself from joining him, “And you can help out with other tech related projects at the Compound,”

“The Compound?” you ask. Your brain still wasn’t sure what was happening,

“... The Avengers Compound... In upstate New York,” Tony drawls out before turning to address Peter, “Am I speaking English right now?”

“Sorry,” you mumble before your boyfriend can say anything, “I’m just a little confused... I thought you’d be having me arrested, not offering me a job,”

Tony laughs and shakes his head, “No way, your talents would be wasted in juvie... Plus, I don’t think your boyfriend here would be too happy with me if I got you thrown in jail,” you can’t stop yourself from chuckling this time, “So, what do you say, little lady?”

“Don’t call me little lady,” you say sternly, “But you’ve got a deal,”

Tony beams a smile at you, “Nice doing business with you, ma’am,” he says with sarcasm, “Alright kid, I’ve got to run. Bring Y/N up to the Compound tomorrow, show her around her new workplace,”

Peter nods and you both watch Tony see himself out. Once the front door closes behind him, you turn to Peter. Your face was totally alight with excitement and you let out a squeal. He grins back at you and pulls you into a soft kiss.

“I can’t believe it,” you breathe out after the two of break apart, “I’m going to be working for Tony Stark,”

“Yeah...” Peter says cheekily, “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,”

You roll your eyes at your boyfriend and dismiss his comment; you couldn’t contain your excitement.

Next Part

Tags: @coffeeismylife28, @klutzly, @meep-meep22, @impala-moose, @caitsymichelle13, @redstarstan, @leahhavoc, @heismyhunter, @rosyfluffyprincess, @invisible2niall, @hesitant-poison, @addictwithafandomblog, @hantu369mc, @woww-za, @stratmoxphere, @bearded-bucky, @pleasefixthepain, @spn-worm, @buckyobsessed, @specs15, @sebstanwassup, @wunnywho, @thedarknesswarrior, @girlwith100names, @addictionmarvel, @melconnor2007, @ipaintmelodies, @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked, @spookydoritos, @fanboyswhereare-you, @yoinkpeter, @psychicwitchphilosopher, @tcmhollnd, @all-that-glitters-is-cold, @xplumsceptrequeenx, @lilya-petrichor, @hells-princess, @potterjamesharry

Tags that didn’t work: @mo320, @mrs-stan-barnes

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shakibalifutureworks · 7 years ago

Text

Limbo Trailer Journal

I have finally finished my Trailer for Limbo. So, I apologies for not keeping you updated on my work.

Limbo is a 2-D platformer game with challenging puzzles to progress throughout the game. I think that there is no plot to this game as there is no backstory between the main character (which is the boy) and the sister. So, it’s up to the players to decide whether they have backstory or not. Now, I was given the assignment to work with the Limbo trailer. However, only difference is that the audio has been removed. It is my job to put my own audio in this trailer, with whatever choice of genre I was able to choose from which was anything.

The genre that I am going with for the Limbo trailer is comedy. The reason why I have chosen this genre is because Limbo’s element in the game is dark and depressing and it would be difficult to implement a comedic element. Since, this trailer will be aimed at all types of audiences, I want to give them a different taste in a happy and funny game rather dark and horrible. Because of my research, I have managed to generate a lot of ideas by watching TV shows and videos from the internet such as YouTube. I was able to gather these ideas from both sources and make my own ideas by combining them together.

For the sounds that were made in the trailer, they were mainly my sounds that I have created using a sound recorder. For example, to make the sound of the character stepping on the grass was that I had to record myself stepping on a bunch of cassette film and step at the same speed as the main character, so the sound would be able to sync in with the main character’s steps. For pulling the boat to shore, I would require the following materials which is a brick and a wooden stick. Then I would need to drag the wooden stick against the brick to create that effect of grains of sand as the boat is being pulled onto the shore. To create the effect of the main character landing on his feet is that I would have to jump and land onto the wooden floorboards. Depending on how far the main character is from landing. There will have to be a harder impact on the landing. Another sound I have created is the boulder falling and to create that effect is that I must gather 2 bricks and rub it against the two bricks to create the effect of either the boulder falling or the boulder rolling down the hill. Lastly, as for other sounds, I have managed to give roles to my actors. Though, I chose my actors carefully so that they would fit the personality of the characters, in which case for the main character, a neutral feeling towards him, but if overwhelmed, he is easily prone to being scared. As for the sister, since she has one line of sentence and judging from that sentence, she has the bratty personality. Lastly, the spider was difficult to give audio to. Since spiders don’t have voice and is silent. So, since this is a comedy trailer, I would have to give the spider a voice that would throw off the audience and have a bit of a laugh. So, in the end, I decided to give the spider an audio. However, it wasn’t a voice, but it was yelling. Something a spider won’t ever do but it would bring a bit of humour. Although sounds effects would help improve the genre that I am doing, but having a script will fun and funny for and the actors I have chosen. I gave myself the roles of narrator and main character. Personally, this was an embarrassing as I had implement my voice into my trailer. Though I had to put my personal feelings aside and did record my voice so that it would be effective to have narrator having to break the 4th wall and the main character constantly screaming and being scared. For the sister, well, she was there for one scene. But overall, I had fun and enjoyed recording and implementing it in my trailer.

As more for the sounds for the trailer, I was able to create the sound of a wire snapping off. The way I made that sound was using can opener. As the can opener clicked, that was the sound for it. The clicking sound had needed to have more force or else I wouldn’t be able to get the sound realistic sound of the wire tripping, rather the sound would be quiet. The tree stump slowly falling was another effect that required a creaky floorboard. To make sound like it was falling, I would have to put lots of pressure on the floorboard with my foot so that it continuously to keep creaking or else it wouldn’t be enough sound for the trailer. Finally, buzzing from the light is something I created from myself. To create that effect is to make the buzzing sound from your mouth, the audience won’t notice the buzzing coming from anyone as they will think that it will be my sound effect that I have created from the materials I have used.

Other than my own sounds, I have used sounds provided by the internet. However, I just used a fair amount of sounds from the internet because I have utilised the sound recorder very well and created many different varieties of audio files. However, a few were quite tedious, as I don’t have required materials to make it happen. The sounds I have found from the internet is water stepping, yelling, circular saw, glass break, fly buzzing, swinging, stream of water and crate breaking. Having said all of that, I have referenced these sounds, so the audience would know that I haven’t claim these sounds as my own. Instead, I have credited the respectable owners responsible for the sounds.

As for the music for my trailer, I would like something upbeat and happy or funny. To make this music effectively so the audience would laugh, I would use an audio program to cut out specific parts of the audio to keep whatever is left and that sound clip will have huge impact on the audience humour wise because of the popularity that has been spread across the world. I have used certain music to emphasize my comedy is Chainmillionaire – They see me rollin’ and Rocky Balboa. Those two are well known for their music because of what it is called on the internet, a meme. Meme’s consist of humorous content and can be displayed on either a picture or video. This way the audience will find this hilarious. On the other hand, I also added another kind of music that isn’t like the two I have mentioned. It is called Iron Horse-Silent Film Dark. Now, the type of genre of music this is classical. The reason why I have used this is because the audience may find classical comedy more humorous then what we have as present in comedy. So this would be more reasonable to implement this in my trailer.

Now having my music and my sound effects ready, I have a video editing program that would put my sounds and music into my trailer. The program is called Premier Pro CC. Now, this was my first time using premier pro, so I had no idea what each button works and the design layout for Premier Pro CC was complicated. However, using trial and error for this program, I have corrupted my trailer a few times which was quite irritating, however I learnt from my mistakes and I fixed my mistakes so that the trailer was finished at the best of abilities. I have used another program that is mainly for audio. Premier Pro CC can also modify audio as well. But I prefer using this program for modify audios. This program is called Audacity. For recording sounds, I use a Zoom H2n Recorder. This recorder produces high quality audio without any disturbances such as unwanted noises and noises from other devices such as a mobile phone or PC.

In conclusion, I think have done exceptionally well in this assignment as I have learned a lot about creating the trailer that’s right for me. Since, this was a challenging task, as I have mentioned in the first paragraph, turning something dark into something more funny and cheerful is enough to say that I have achieved a few of my goals. As I got feedback from people, they were all positive as they said that they found it funny. I also learnt a few new tools in Premier Pro that I didn’t know that it would improve my trailer. For example, I was able to create the credits that scrolled upwards using text tool. I believe that it is better than making it fade into the next scene. As well as drastically improve my trailer.

Here’s the final version of the trailer.

Hope you enjoy!

youtube

References:

Playdead (10/05/2010) “Limbo - Trailer”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4HSyVXKYz8

Chainmillionaire (16/06/2009) “They see me rollin’”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CtwJvgPJ9xw

NoScope Official (08/12/2014) “Air Horn Sad Violin Full”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_1qXQRpF08E

Музыка без авторских прав (13/11/2015) “Iron Horse Silent Film Dark”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JpLJVpJVKL0

Robinhood76 (08/06/2010) “ 01806 steps in shallow water.wav”

https://freesound.org/people/Robinhood76/sounds/98731/

InspectorJ (10/03/2016) “Stream, Water, C.wav”

https://freesound.org/people/InspectorJ/sounds/339324/

avrahamy (14/01/2012) “Glass Break”

https://freesound.org/people/avrahamy/sounds/141563/

Benboncan (08/09/2009) “Trapped Fly.wav”

https://freesound.org/people/Benboncan/sounds/79007/

InspectorJ (31/05/2017) “Bamboo Swing, B10.wav”

https://freesound.org/people/InspectorJ/sounds/394444/

kwahmah_02 (28/09/2014) “Circular Saw 1.wav”

https://freesound.org/people/kwahmah_02/sounds/250060/

kevinkace (01/02/2009) “Crate Break 2.wav”

https://freesound.org/people/kevinkace/sounds/66778/

RutgerMuller (29/08/2010) “Scream_ooa-1.aif”

#fwxb1101

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holdon-a-minute · 5 years ago

Text

As Time Repeats

Chapter II

Gone

"Hello I'm here to report a missing person."

"Okay slow down Madame, what's the name of this person?"

"Renae Cruzette."

"And your name?"

"Alice Cruzette."

~~~~

She pries her heavy eyelids to open, a pounding rattling Renae's skull making the struggle even more difficult. A painful moan escapes her lips but it only sounds an alarm in her head, her ears screeching in pain and an absurd ache searing through her mind. As she slowly and shakily lifts her body up off the damp, concrete floor to rest on her grazed hands and knees, her consciousness awakens all in one daunting flood and the survival instincts kick in. Renae scrambles to her feet surrounded by darkness—cold, empty darkness—the only slither of daylight visible from a barred window that's barely reachable from the ceiling.

Once she's taken in her environment, which is just a concrete box with no visible door and a tiny window, all of the questions start to stampede in. Where is she? Why is she here? Why did Clemence do this? Was she planning to take Renae all along? Has she really been kidnapped? And if so, how was she going to get out?

It didn't take long for Renae to start to lose hope after a full night in obsidian, oblivious, freezing, hungry and weak still trying to claw down the walls encaging her or find some way out. Her head is a mess. Twenty-four hours have barely passed and she's already began to lose her mind to the dark cloud of fear creeping up her neck, surely but slowly starting to possess all thoughts that cross her mind at two-hundred miles per hour. There was no knowing what was to happen to Renae down here, and she'd scraped at every inch of her skull to snatch at that solution, but her hands were slippy with sadness and she just couldn't think straight.

She's slumped against the wall, her knees to her face and her arms loosely hugging her bruised legs. Renae lifts up her battered head to reveal her red, blotchy eyes from tears that seemed to burn her face like lava trickling down a smooth mountain edge. Mourning in the moonlight, she whimpers in her grace, her blue lips trembling as she whispers aloud, "How did I even get here?" utterly dumbfounded. She knows that whoever locked her poor soul away in here used some force to launch her into this demented wreck of a place, evidence being the black and blue bruises that snake their way up Renae's whole left side of her body.

Maybe she was dropped.

Her body sulkily follows Renae's demands to stretch up and stand in the centre of the box as she peers up at the ceiling. And only now, as if she has been blind ever since she woke up, Renae can see clear as day the faint lines creating a large square right above her head. Her throat tenses up as realisation dawns on her, and Renae frantically starts to search for a way to get up. Scarcely reaching, she manages to brash her fingertips along the edge of the barred windowsill and finds a sharp slice of slate. She grips it tight in between her teeth, and begins jumping as hard as she can to grasp hold of the thick metal bars. Now dangling about two feet from the ground, Renae plants the flats of her feet firmly against the wall and walks her way up as far as possible. But as she turns to face the centre of the room again, her arm jolts, and a bar slips from its held positions. "Sh-t!" the slate muffles her exclamation.

Almost slipping back down the wall, Renae uses all of the little arm strength she has to yank and yank on the loose bar before she falls or someone hears her. It pops out, and she struggles her way through the gap, having to scrape and lean on her bruised side to fit. "Arrgh!" she lets out a strained, strangled noise and rolls down a small grass slope. The gentle breeze somewhat calms her as it caresses Renae's cheeks. She is outside. And she runs.

~~~~

Cold metal bar still in hand, teeth bearing in a snarl of anger and self-defence, and no sense of morality comprehendible until she is safe. She runs like no other, her mix of emotions getting washed away as the wind whips at her flesh. Where she is, Renae does not know, but she's racing alongside a huge, old brick building in an open, soft meadow where the grass tickles her calves. The building is just as much a box as the solid room she just escaped from, this wall running a mile long and half a mile up.

Adrenaline still coursing through her veins, Renae slows and steadies herself once she reaches the corner of the building. She peaks round the bend, and sure enough, there's the main entrance and an armed man guarding it repeatedly pacing back and forth. She spots a fairly busy country road about another two-hundred yards off, and a guy stood on the edge of the field—with his pulled-over, keys-in-ignition Renault—bellowing in pure frustration down his phone. The cogs start clicking in Renate's brain, as she watches for a minute and pieces together her escape; the guard is distracted by the fuming businessman on the side of the road, and she uses this to her advantage.

She swiftly but smoothly rounds the corner on crouched legs, silently stalking up to the guard while his back is turned and his eyes are fixated on the livid man, until she's close enough to bound onto his back—reaching for the handgun strapped to his right hip with her free hand—sending both of them barrelling forward face-first into the dry earth. Without thinking, she jumps to her feet and pulls. Pulls again.

And he's dead. No sound was made. Silencer, she notes. But one handgun is not enough for what she's been dragged into now, so she takes his long gun too. Renae starts to plod forward, taking a mere second to look back at the murdered guard before belting straight for the rearing and ready-to-go Renault. She's about to snarkly comment, "Perfect timing," as she slides into the driver's seat, but is held back as an alarm more like a war siren sounds melancholically in the distance, cutting off her devilish train of thoughts.

"Hey! What are you doing!" He drops his phone.

"Music to my ears," Renae slyly murmurs in response, like a serpent stinging all feelings with every slurred hiss, mainly to the piercing noise coming from the old building rather than the snarling businessman. She slams the car door and pushes the simple engine to drive. As fast as is can go. Just to get her anywhere but here.

~~~~

Renae finds herself back in Paris, the whole drive from the unknown to streets she can recognise a blur. Sometimes her flawless sense of direction really does come in handy. She speeds through the avenues of her estate, her aunty's house standing out like a pink elephant in a parade. She cannot peel her eyes away from the black front door, the closed white blinds in the windows, the folded newspaper thrown into the little yard, the neatly shut metal gate, the rough brown shoe mat on the little step. Her home, her bed just behind that wall, Alice sat snuggled up with a blanket and a mug of coffee on the couch, the ancient grand clock in the porch, that one creek in the stair, the soft fairy lights hung in the study, the old brown leather desk chair that smells of musk and cigarettes, the spider that's been living on the corner of the kitchen doorframe for weeks now, the chip in the wooden banister, the red wine stain on the countertop, all the miniscule things that bring tears to well up in her eyes, all the things that bring this clammy, nauseous feeling to settle about her. All the things that make Renae homesick.

But she cannot deal with that now, she can't face Alice in this state, in this brain-fogging mess. She carries on driving, to the next best place she thinks she can find answers. She scowls at the thought, "Millbruery Lane."

She parks some distance away, another narrow alleyway off the main road, and hides the long gun underneath her seat, tucking the metal bar and handgun into the band of her dark jeggings. Her loose-fit hoodie covers the odd shapes they create on her lower back, just like in the movies. Walking rigidly, all wrong and out of place, she heads down the lane she knew would make her feel like a ghost reliving a memory out of her physical body. The stores right along the bottom of the attached buildings are still magnificent to the eye, cafes still sit with intricate metal table and chairs outside, hanging baskets spread throughout are filled with rather dull, delicate flowers, antique shops still showcase their treasures in the wide window each store possesses, and the cobbled floor beneath is now as dry and gritty as the bark on a tamarisk tree in the Sahara desert.

Renae simply stands and peers at her surroundings, puzzled and pale, not quite knowing what she thought she would find here other than a feeling of fear and anxiety she never believed could be comprehendible by one human being. Still limping, she paces a full three-sixty spin, too truly scared to do much else as the realness of everything starts seeping in. "Wait..." she hushes, rushing to get the word out before she loses the thought again.

*Ding ding*

Her phone, she remembers. She took her phone and threw it behind her back whilst stood with a gun pointed to her face. Clemence's gun. She searches desperately along the floor, finding it convenient that she happened to just hear it go off. There, tucked behind a plant pot, is her her glossy black phone in all its glory, shining like the sun, like a shooting star promising Renae a wish, lighting up hope in the deep dark night. But the only thing her phone promises her is a message from an unknown private number. She opens it, barely prepared for the video she finds, not any bit ready to play it, and utterly too innocent for the horrors she watches.

~~~~

A black and white screen, speckly, blurred. Showing two separate rooms, side by side. Concrete. Dark. No doors, only an open barred window. A woman comes into view on the left-side room. Panic-struck. Stressed. Using her hands to comb back her long bouncy curls. A woman comes into view on the right-side room. More exhausted looking. Like the panic has settled down now. Until she starts to climb up the wall, pulling herself up by the barred window. She's tearing down down her exit. Her escape. Struggling until she's out of the cameras view. But as she finds her way out into the open, free, the woman on the left-side is met face to face with a man fitted in black. Head to toe. Identity indescribable. And as she backs up, fearful, she's ruthlessly forced up against the wall. Showering dark liquid everywhere, as she's shot twice in the skull. Blackness.

~~~~

"...No," Renae whimpers, "Oh no...no no no no no. Please. Oh...Alice!" She buckles over, face growing paler by the second until its true olive undertone is gleaming through. Dropping the phone, she turns to the public bin beside the large plant and doubles over again. Throwing up, hyperventilating, choking, sweating, getting dizzy, feeling limp. Numb. She twists and crashes to the floor, her back bumped up against the bin. Renae slowly wails in her weak state. She sits strangely on the floor—her head hung forward and her limbs hanging loose—and quietly but fiercely sobs. She sobs and she cries and she feels overwhelmingly grief-stricken.

Still hyperventilating, she almost chokes every time she tries to breathe in-between her involuntary snivelling, and she would have stayed this way—crying helplessly on the floor and letting herself cripple until she dies—if it weren't for the young man who stops to ask, "Miss...what has happened?"

Renae glances up, shocked to feel back in reality and in touch with the bustling life surrounding her. A man stands straight in front of her, tilting his neck to study her at a better angle. He wears a navy knit jumper paired with a plaid shirt underneath, stylish skinny jeans and a huge professional camera slung around his shoulder. It doesn't take Renae long to recognise his wavy black hair, deep blue eyes and curious persona. "Don't fucking move," her face reduces to cold stone, she pulls out her silencer and cocks it like she's done this a thousand times before.

Steadily, she stands, and keeps her trembling hand aimed right at the man's heart. "Woah!" he throws his arms up in innocence, "I'm sorry! I was just trying to help. Where did you get that?" He refers to the weapon in her grasp.

"You." He only stares guiltily at her. "You were taking photographs of me in the...the café. Why did you do that?" She steps intimidatingly closer, pressing the gun against his lean chest, "What do you want with me? Who are you? Who do you work with? Why did you do that? Why did you do that you sick son of a bitch!" Renae bellows out her last question, full of force and raw hatred, the same words as her two previous questions but utterly different in every way.

"What I, I, I...just do it for fun I didn't—I don't mean to, to offend...Miss. It is just a beautiful café to shoot in, and you were so carelessly...glowing I, I, I...couldn't not quickly snap the, the opportunity up...Miss..."

"Don't fucking lie to me. I've got a bullet about to put you six feet under and you try to fucking lie to me. Tell me what you were doing!" She's now got him plastered up against the wall.

"Alright! Okay okay," he cowers, "I could sense your powers' strength. It was radiating. It was immense."

Renae blinks a couple of times, bewildered, "Stop playing games with me, you fool," and grips his jumper with her free hand to shake him violently, then shove him back up against the wall.

"No! I'm being serious! I have this family heirloom that's been passed down for years, and it allows anybody who knows how to unlock it to see if someone is currently using magic or if they're even Thaumaturge at all. It's called seeing 'Inside out'."

"What are you on...you disgusting fuck?!" Renae releases him from her grasp and backs up a little.

"Wait look! I'll show you," he replies making her flinch and lock her arms into pointing the gun at his head as he reaches into a hidden pocket in his jacket, revealing a small, transparent sphere.

"It's a goddamned fucking marble!" She's aggravated now, and getting impatient.

But he ignores her dangerous temper, and carries on to softly breathe the word onto the orb, "Édisper..."

~~~~

All in one magnetic wave, the alleyway becomes a little brighter and a little hazier around them. Renae is jolted towards the photographer guy, forcefully pulled by no one in particular, and she claws at the jumper on his bicep, "What did you do?" But they're both distracted from the question as the dainty doorbell in the antique shop rings ten times louder than it should do behind them, and gradually a woman hops out. But she isn't hopping, she's walking in slow motion, like she's on her way to a party on the moon. Renae watches her for a solid minute, the man watching Renae for a reaction, and she's too focused on how strangely she's strolling that she completely misses the warm pink glow the woman's emitting, until it's too late and she rounds the corner.

Renae spins back around to face the man, but looks directly over his shoulder as she spots two more people strolling in slow motion. "Why are they doing that? Is he...glowing? What did you do? Turn these lights off!" She looks up into the sky, trying to find the lights this guy must have switched on.

"Uhm," he coughs.

"You're glowing!" But alls he does in response is obviously do a once-over on Renae with a raised eyebrow, "I'm...glowing? Have you drugged me?! Why have you made my glow black?" she asks him, more confused than angry now.

"I haven't made you anything, I've simply allowed us both to see what is already there. If a person is letting off that pink, wavy glow, it means they're Thaumaturge. If you see pale green in there too it means they're currently using magic. It kind of looks like the Northern Lights, you know? Oh! Look there! See? He's using magic to tie his shoelaces while he's on the phone." And he was. There was a man walking steadily, not taking a glance at his feet, while his right hand is holding his phone to his ear and his left hand is slowly twisting and turning in mid-air, tying his shoelaces from afar.

"What...? That doesn't explain why I'm blazing blackness," Renae pushes, slightly worried to listen to any more this mad man says.

"Well, that's exactly why I was taking photos of you. I don't know...I've never seen anything like it. At all."

"So let me get this clear, magicians are actually magic? And you have this...family heirloom that lets you see which people are magicians and if they're currently using...magic."

"Well...yes."

She chuckles, "Why should I believe anything you're saying, because it all sounds like a load of bullshit right now just to postpone your death?"

"Magic. What is the magic we believe? And what is the magic we see? For thousands of years, we read of fairies and wizards and goblins, and people believed. Yet how many of us will see a stand-up illusionist and not believe their capabilities at all? You're seeing it with your own eyes right now Miss, and I haven't touched a hair on your head, how could I have drugged you?"

"I...I don't know," Renae whispers in defeat, ashamed and confused and in so much shock, "Take us out of this," that when the man sucks them back into the dull movements of reality, Renae's body shuts down and she completely loses consciousness.

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thoughts-of-the-unheard · 5 years ago

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2018 end of year banquet day and lead up to it

with two posts in a row like about sean and last one mentioning the end of year banquet I reminded myself of the 2018 end of year banquet which is quite possibly the best day of my life so far

its important to note that it was a very rainy summer and I only had one pair of sneakers and one pair of shower shoes

since it was so rainy and its a scout camp not a resort camp kinda thing there were huge puddles everywhere which the kids loved but I had to walk through several large puddles several times a day to get to the nature lodge and remember, I only have sneakers so I ended up getting trench foot (2018s thing, every year has a health thing) and me being me I didn't do anything about it except eventually start limping bc it hurt too much otherwise but my last work project the day before the end of year banquet day was my aunt (lake director at the time) and I carrying the fire stations (essentially 2x4 basket holding a rake, a shovel, and a bucket or two) from campsites to the trails and I got to the last one before I couldn't ignore it anymore so im 5′2″ barely 110lbs and the fire stations were pretty darn heavy so I couldn't limp for fear of breaking my ankle or smth so I walked normally but it hurt so much that when I set it down I cried and it took a bit for me to stop and explain what was happening so my aunt took me to the health officer and he told me what it was and what I had to do and I got to shower in the health lodge (which was amazing bc while the staff showers are clean enough they are nothing compared to the health lodge shower that also had hot and cold handles instead of the preset temp six second buttons that the staff showers and pool house showers have) but I had to keep my feet dry and clean so I had to stay in the dining hall all day the next day to set up for the banquet

banquet day which I did but I was getting a little stir-crazy stuck in dhall all day when camp is my only freedom and im so used to being outside and working there so my brain was a little confused like yo this is camp not school I shouldn't be stuck in one building for half my day so when we needed more lights from hart lodge I literally jumped at the opportunity to leave it was drizzling when I left the dining hall but hart lodge is like five minutes away and there was supposed to be a work crew there that could let me in but I took the road bc its shorter and flatter instead of the trail and the crew mustve taken the trail at the same time bc when I got there, no one was around and like I said I was going a little stir-crazy earlier and felt like I needed to do smth wild so I came to the conclusion to break into hart lodge to get the lights instead of walking five minutes to get someone with the keys to just let me in and no one was around so I was think aloud and the moment I decided to just break in, it started to pour and I mean that seems like a sign to not do it right well I was going to anyway and not too long after I started to try, my boss (the favorite adult) and another co-worker showed up bc they needed smth from hart lodge and they had the keys so they let me in and I returned to dhall soaking wet (in a white t-shirt and my boss told my aunt cause he was a little concerned with my attire as a young girl essentially wearing a see through shirt surrounded by a bunch of teen boys and she came to me about it saying he was concerned and I didn't even realize bc I didn't know what I looked like it hadn't occurred to me but im glad I don't get embarrassed easily) to string the lights and finish everything there and when all work projects were done, we had some free time before the banquet so I told sean, my bsf, that I wanted to break into hart lodge and seans down to do anything so we go to hart lodge to break in but we didn't plan ahead we just had whatever was on us which wasnt much at all (it was staff week so we didn't have to wear class b so I was in a t-shirt and exercise shorts with no pockets so the only thing I had on me was my spider knife clipped to the hem of my shorts) our first thought was to walk up the roof of the basement that conveniently started a few inches from the ground (its on a hill) and try to get into one of the windows from there but that didn't work now admin was going through some things and the interim camp director had done a cleansing of hart lodge which previously was just a big place for whatever needed storing and that cleansing brought out a lot of stuff to sit in front of the lodge until we got the big metal trash box the next day so I grabbed a plastic crate to put on top of a wooded chest I had rolled down earlier to a single floor outset room with a lower roof than the rest of the building that was three floors and it got me like three feet higher but before I could figure out how to actually get on the roof from there, sean made me get down see our relationship is that he’ll make me get down from the crate on top of the chest so I don't hurt myself and then two minutes later place me in a puddle when im getting over trench foot and eventually we gave up trying (though I don't think sean ever really tried to break in bc I fully believe he could with no trouble, I think he just came along bc I was excited about trying) and we sat in the west qm shed which is actually the wood shed and we talked for a while now you might've noticed I said banquet day but I haven't talked about the banquet don't worry, its coming faster than you think as it did for us because as we sat in the shed, we heard the drums for evening colors so evening colors is the daily ceremony where we lower the flags before dinner and colors is in class a and the banquet, a very important and quite formal event, is also in class a and the drums are camp band signifying the start of colors and if u remember, sean and I arent even in class b and we had no idea what time it was bc neither of us had a watch or our phones but colors is starting so we got up and bolted to the staff site to change and class a is supposed to be sneakers or boots with bsa socks, bsa shorts or pants, bsa belt, any scout shirt, and a specific bsa shirt buttoned over that with the shirts tucked in and everything neat (and most camp staff girls do smth nice with their hair) and neither of us had any of that on and the girls cabin is a quarter mile from the rest of camp so I kept a bag in seans shack with my shower stuff and class a and anything else I might need during to day so I don't waste time going back to korman so we speed changed (yes I am a girl, yes sean is a boy, yes we changed in front of each other, no we didn't stripe to do so, no were not dating, no we wont be, were just close friends who were rushed and comfortable enough with each other) (but that's really frowned upon so if bsa asks this was a piece of creative writing) (think for legal reasons, this is a joke) and we sprinted to the wall for colors and halfway there sean said he forgot his belt and turned around to get it, he did not end up on the wall for colors but I went out a stood at the end, next to my director (my boss, favorite adult) who questioned why I was late so its a good thing sean decided not to get on the wall next to me bc the majority of camp staff was already convinced we were fucking even though I was dating someone else who was also at camp (ha ha part of the reason I broke up with him was bc he was jealous of sean though I only know him bc of sean and he was jealous of some of my other guy friends at camp though male staff outnumbered female staff that year like 6 to 1 so idk what he was expecting but anyway were close friends now so its chill) but we ended up sitting together at the banquet and I don't really remember what we ate but after eating, a co-worker put a Styrofoam bowl full of whipped cream onto my directors head (I feel like I cant call him my boss in this situation bc while he is my boss, his boss and his boss’s boss were also present) now my director was in the middle of a conversation with one of the important camp guests and while covered with whipped cream, he shook the other mans hand and said ‘it was nice talking to you, if youll excuse me...” and bolted after the co-worker who ran out the door now both of these men are like 6 foot 200 lbs and they don't often run so ofc all of staff followed and they tousled for a bit then kinda got over it and when we all walked back in, the spring had torn from the door so sean got up to get screws and a drill and fix it in the meantime, my director retaliated with two cans of whipped cream directly in the co-workers hair see when my director got hit, he easily wiped it off bc he shaves his head weekly but the co-worker has lots of bushy hair that whipped cream likes to stick to and by the time sean finished with the door, his seat was taken as well as all the other seats at our table so we shared a seat as he ate a bowlful of blocks of butter (much to my protests) and we watched the video of the year and the award giving portion of the banquet began now the co-worker who “pied” my director tried again but on the camp commissioner instead who was the sweetest, most adorable person but he failed as my director stepped seemingly out of nowhere and at the last second, slapped the whipped cream bowl into the co-workers face the rest of the banquet continued without interruption which wasnt hard as it ended soon after which brings us to the post-banquet staff swim its supposed to be a surprise to first years but someone usually forgets and they all find out anyway but it goes like this we take everything out of our pockets and some people take off their socks and shoes and all the staff climb up on the wall we stand on for colors (its like four inches at the lowest and four feet at the highest) and I love standing at the highest part because we get called by how many years weve been on staff and you jump off the wall and race across the parade field to the open gates of the pool and jump in, in class a and we all swim around for a bit playing I have your hat which is an imitation game where someone calls out “I have ___’s hat” and tosses it and whoever catches it, imitates that person theyre usually really funny but occasionally someone says smth that doesn't make sense but no ones mean and its really nice then we showered and hung out for a bit before going back to korman to sleep

the end

ps I was going to write a post after this on the 2019 banquet but now its like 4:30am and that's a good time to go to sleep so I might write about it tmw

pps I really said “if bsa asks this was a piece of creative writing” talking about changing in front of a friend when I spent 17 lines beforehand on breaking into a bsa building and didn't even think that that might be something that's also frowned upon, perhaps more

#theres so much going on I don't know what to tag #summer camp #end of year banquet #shananagins #fun times #best day of my life #so far #best friend #wild

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daleisgreat · 6 years ago

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Avengers: Infinity War

Last night was the soft opening for the 11 years in the making MCU phase/season/arc/whatever finale that is Avengers: Endgame, but today Friday, April 26th is the official opening day. Yesterday I went to a friend’s place who has a big ‘ol 4K TV and I watched my first UHD in the form of last year’s Avengers: Infinity War (trailer) as a nice refresher going into one of the biggest cinematic releases ever this weekend. I am glad I did experience it again in 4K HD because there were so many little things I forgot and so much transpiring that it made the two and a half hour runtime breeze by before I knew it. Like with my entry on Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 yesterday, I will probably tiptoe into light spoiler territory for Infinity War so reader beware! Unlike the previous Avengers film, Age of Ultron, Infinity War does not kick off with the Avengers on another routine mission kicking ass. It is a polar opposite where quintessential Marvel villain Thanos (Josh Brolin), yes that same Thanos who was teased in the post-credit scenes of the previous two Avengers films has finally arrived and lays immediate waste to Heimdall (Idris Elba), Loki (Tom Hiddleston), Hulk (Mark Ruffalo) and Thor (Chris Hemsworth). It is in this opening scene where it is established Thanos is after the six Infinity Stones that were seen scattered throughout previous MCU films to gain ultimate power and use it to instantly eliminate half the world’s population. The dark nature of the opening scene foreshadowed what would be the grimmest, darkest film yet in the entire MCU. While this is a more serious, high-stakes film, there is still a fair amount of witty exchanges and zingers throughout, especially once the Guardians of the Galaxy and Spider-Man (Tom Holland) get in the mix.

Infinity War sees Thanos and his children travel to all reaches of the galaxy to acquire all six Infinity Stones. This leads to many awesome CG battles involving nearly the entire roster of the MCU sans a handful of characters who are explained why they are absent. This also leads to the fun dynamic of experiencing heroes from different films interact with each other for the first time and sometimes putting differences to the side to combat Thanos or at other times getting in a dispute of 1ups-manship in the case Peter Quill (Chris Pratt) and Thor. I will give props to the masterful MCU directors Joe & Anthony Russo for experimenting and segmenting off the traditional teams in order to see how new hero mash-ups play out on screen, and they nearly all gelled wonderfully together and resulted in a ton of awesome ‘What If’ scenarios coming to fruition on the big screen. A couple quick favorite team-up scenarios that stood out for me was early team-up scenes with Doctor Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch), Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr) and Hulk/Bruce Banner colliding with Thanos’s forces. Rocket (voiced by Bradley Cooper), ‘teenage’ Groot (voiced by Vin Diesel) and Thor venture out in their unique arc in order to find the ultimate weapons to take on Thanos in what was an odd, but fun pairing to see unfold. When we get to the final act two huge battles play out simultaneously. A huge battle on the planet, Titan unfolds with Iron Man, Spider-Man, Nebula (Karen Gillan), Peter Quill, Drax (Dave Bautista) and Doctor Strange as they attempt to combine forces in one last gasp to takedown Thanos in one-against-all war that was one of the top highlights of the film.

While the battle on Titan is happening, almost every other MCU hero imaginable teams up in Wakanda to engage in a gigantic war with Thanos’s army. This was a CG delight to consume as almost every hero no matter how big of a lead or periphery they were in past films gets a chance to shine in what is easily the biggest confrontation of any MCU film. I thought it was awesome the Russos’ gave the women time to shine where Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson), Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen) and Okoye (Danai Gurira) rally up against Proxima (Carrie Coon). This Wakanda War has a finale and payoff that will be one of the most memorable for not just comic book movies, but nearly all of cinema. Needless to say, JAW-DROPPING MOMENTS OF CONSEQUENCE occur from the fallout of the end of the Wakanda clash and it all builds up perfectly to get everyone primed and ready to see the follow-up to this in Avengers: Endgame. It would not be fair for me to go this whole time without one little quibble, and it is a feint one that I cannot fully get behind, but bears mentioning. This is a star-studded cast, and props for Marvel Studios for squeezing almost everyone in. Unfortunately, this expectedly has the side-effect of some standout stars getting short shrift so everyone can get a modicum of screen time. I was surprised Captain America (Chris Evans) came off as a bit player compared to others and ditto for at least several others. I still am stunned that Nick Fury (Samuel Jackson), who is a constant for many past MCU films, is only in one scene. For what it is worth it seems at least every person I felt who got slighted in screen time at least has a moment or two to have the spotlight on. It oddly reminded me of recent Wrestlemanias where WWE’s roster got to be so enormous the last couple installments went on to be nearly seven hours in order to cram almost the entire roster on the show in some way or another.

While I watched the 4K UHD at a friend’s, I made sure to pull my BluRay out of my backlog box to dive into the extra features. Coming right off GotG2, I love how Infinity War follows the same format for extra features with a making of special, gag reel, deleted scenes and a commentary track. The Marvel gag reels are always a riot, but this one clocks in short at only two minutes! The deleted scenes are worth checking out because it is the only place where Happy (Jon Favreau) makes an appearance and it is where Quill and Drax have a fun argument for control of music over Quill’s precious Zune player. There are four brief making-of specials that combine for just over a half hour. A couple of the specials that focus on the huge cast and another on Thanos feel more like extended trailers with brief interview snippets, but the back half dealing with both of the final act battles are worth checking out as the cast and crew have a lot to show in how they pieced together these huge battles on the big screen. Finally, the commentary with the Russo brothers and writers Christopher Markus and Stephan McFeely is a recommended commentary track worth your listen, or read which I will tip my hat to Marvel to for being one of the few companies out there to subtitle their commentary tracks! Commentary highlights are constant fascinating reactions to the unique hero pairings throughout, love for Brolin’s acting in his mammoth mo-cap setup, interesting insight on why the Russo’s were determined to make sure they got one specific hooded Infinity Stone protector back into the MCU and hearing all four react to the powerful scene between Gamora (Zoe Saldana) and Thanos. Other than the making-ofs being a little on the lacking side, this is another fine set of extra features from Marvel Studios.

I realize I am many weeks late to saying this, but I highly recommend giving Infinity War a viewing again before going into Avengers: Endgame. I absolutely loved this film from beginning to end, especially on this second viewing. With a year going by after seeing it in the theaters there was so much I forgot that transpired in these two and a half hours. I have not seen such a fast-paced film of at least this length since Inception. Somehow, I have managed to avoid all trailers for Endgame as I did not want a hint of what to expect out of it and I am insanely amped up to see this MCU event that has been building to this finale all the way back since 2008! If you do not have time to give Avengers: Infinity War a re-watch then I hope this entry has at least brought you back up to speed on the broad strokes of it going into Endgame. I cannot think of a better way to wrap this up by quoting what the man, Stan, would say: Excelsior! Other Random Backlog Movie Blogs 3 12 Angry Men (1957) 12 Rounds 3: Lockdown 21 Jump Street The Accountant Angry Video Game Nerd: The Movie Atari: Game Over The Avengers: Age of Ultron Batman: The Killing Joke Batman: Mask of the Phantasm Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice Bounty Hunters Cabin in the Woods Captain America: Civil War Captain America: The First Avenger Captain America: The Winter Soldier Christmas Eve Clash of the Titans (1981) Clint Eastwood 11-pack Special The Condemned 2 Countdown Creed Deck the Halls Die Hard Dredd The Eliminators The Equalizer Dirty Work Faster Fast and Furious I-VIII Field of Dreams Fight Club The Fighter For Love of the Game Good Will Hunting Gravity Guardians of the Galaxy Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 Hercules: Reborn Hitman Indiana Jones 1-4 Ink The Interrogation Interstellar Jobs Joy Ride 1-3 Man of Steel Man on the Moon Marine 3-6 Metallica: Some Kind of Monster Mortal Kombat National Treasure National Treasure: Book of Secrets The Replacements Reservoir Dogs Rocky I-VII Running Films Part 1 Running Films Part 2 San Andreas ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery The Secret Life of Walter Mitty Shoot em Up Skyscraper Small Town Santa Steve Jobs Source Code Star Trek I-XIII Take Me Home Tonight TMNT The Tooth Fairy 1 & 2 UHF Veronica Mars Vision Quest The War Wild Wonder Woman The Wrestler (2008) X-Men: Days of Future Past

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mrmichaelchadler · 7 years ago

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Bright Wall/Dark Room May 2018: An Essay on 'Punch Drunk Love' by Ethan Warren

We are pleased to offer an excerpt from the latest edition of the online magazine, Bright Wall/Dark Room. The theme for their May issue is "Second Time Around," featuring essays on films that their writers once hated but now love, or vice versa. In addition to this essay by Ethan Warren below, there are also pieces on "Suspiria," "Adam's Rib," "Manhunter" "Paris, Texas," "Interstellar," "2001: A Space Odyssey," "The Assassin," "Drop Dead Gorgeous" and Emir Kusturica. The above art is by Brianna Ashby.

You can read previous excerpts from the magazine by clicking here. To subscribe to Bright Wall/Dark Room, or purchase a copy of their current issue, click here.

American adolescence is a marathon of milestones. In those wilderness years between the end of childhood and the onset of adulthood, every birthday seems to bring some seismic new authority—now you can drive; now you can buy cigarettes and a lottery ticket; now you can buy your own beer. But there’s another milestone that, while less often heralded, may be, at least to some of us, the most significant of all: on your 17th birthday, you can buy your own ticket to an R-rated movie, and enter that darkened theater unsupervised.

There’s something solemn and almost mystical about gaining access to a new tier of films. We go to the movies to gain insight, references, social cues that we can use to navigate the world. There’s so much that we experience first on a screen—faraway places, unfamiliar lifestyles, what it looks like to hurt someone and be hurt, what it looks like to love and be loved—and being granted entrance to grown-up movies is like being handed a manual for the adult experience, one you believe you’ve earned by virtue of this personal epoch shift.

That shift happened for me in 2002, and my friends and I spent that year gorging ourselves on the grown-up films of the day. We rushed out to see Adaptation, About Schmidt, Road to Perdition, and afterwards we furrowed our brows over Sprites at Chili’s and earnestly discussed the experience, test-driving analytical terms we’d learned in English class. It felt satisfyingly adult, but I have a feeling I wasn’t the only one with a nagging voice in the back of my head: would’ve been great to see Spider-Man or The Two Towers again instead…

I never voiced that feeling aloud, or even gave it full voice in my head. Because that longing for juvenile art reminded me of the most disturbing truth imaginable: despite this leap towards adulthood, I still felt like me.

One chilly Saturday night that October, my friend Josh and I visited a creaky old arthouse near his home on the south shore of Boston. I’d recently read a review in Entertainment Weekly—the publication of record to my high school mind—that described something fascinating: an Adam Sandler movie for grownups.

“The Sandler we see is, in essence, the same Sandler we have come to know,” Owen Gleiberman had advised, “except that the movie isn’t nudging us in the ribs to laugh at him.” To young men with almost no understanding of cinema except that they loved it, this was a thrilling and fascinating notion.

Ninety-five minutes later, Josh and I burst out of the theater enraged. That movie wasn’t just bad, it was appalling, offensive. We wanted to call the director and chew him out for wasting our time with that faux-artsy bullshit, and any intelligent and rational viewer would obviously agree. We shook with anxious fury as we stepped into the ice cream parlor next door—it was cold out, and Josh’s mom wouldn’t be there to pick us up for another 10 minutes.

Punch-Drunk Love—Paul Thomas Anderson’s fourth film as a writer/director, released when he was just 32 years old—puts you on uncertain footing from the first frame. With no title cards to orient us, we cut in on Barry (Sandler) hunched in the corner of the screen, making a phone call in what appears to be a barren warehouse. He mumbles about the finer points of some corporate fine print, but before we can get the drift, he’s distracted by a strange sound. He walks out onto a dreary corner of predawn Los Angeles and looks in vain for the source. In the distance, a car hits a curb and flips, a visceral and horrific accident that could well be lethal, observed with a detachment that emphasizes nothing. Barry flinches, and then a taxi pulls up, stops long enough for someone to place a harmonium on the ground in front of him, and speeds off.

This avalanche of input is accomplished in three minutes, and we scramble to organize all we’ve seen—was the strange sound relevant? (It wasn’t.) Will that accident be relevant? (It won’t.)

These opening minutes feature no score, and camerawork that’s mostly neutral and restrained. Over the next few minutes, the viewer can start to acclimate to this cold tone. But then, as happens so often in this film, as soon as you gain a foothold, the ground starts to shifts under you.

The eerie vibe lasts about 10 minutes, and then the score finally kicks in. A calliope-tinged waltz brings a sense of grace to the proceedings for, oh, about two minutes. Then that dreaminess is broken by an abstract interlude—shifting colors scored by an atonal aural collage—which is itself then broken when we jump into Barry’s morning as a distributor of toilet plungers. We watch him move about his warehouse in long, smooth takes, all set to a score of thudding timpani and various taps and creaks, which creates a mood of teeth-gnashing anxiety even before we witness the assaultive phone calls and potential for workplace accidents that surround Barry at all times.

As an adolescent, I thrived on the familiar. I fancied myself mature enough to handle avant-garde art, but in a pre-streaming world, I had little exposure to films that truly challenged me. I would pore over descriptions of Eraserhead and Putney Swope, wistfully trying to conjure them in my mind, but whenever I persuaded my parents to drive me over to Video to Go, the selection I perused had “daring indie provocation” defined as Chasing Amy—which, though I would never have admitted it aloud, did provide some shameful measure of relief; that Eraserhead sounded pretty freaky. In that old seaside arthouse, though, I experienced for the first time a full-scale assault on my understanding of what a movie could look and feel like, and I had no way to process a surging tide of intense emotion.

Punch-Drunk Love continues to swing wildly between extremes. Over another stretch of about 10 minutes, we experience brutal rage (when Barry is overwhelmed during a date with Emily Watson’s Lena, a woman seemingly out of his league, he steps into the bathroom and kicks in the stall doors, grunting with volatile distress), we experience achingly sincere emotion (when the date ends with Lena unexpectedly calling Barry back up to her apartment for a kiss, he sprints down the hall like a man on fire rushing towards an extinguisher, underscored by strings and accordions straight out of an Audrey Hepburn romance), and we experience stark terror (after the date, Barry is accosted by extortionists and flees on foot as they pursue with hurled invective).

And I do mean we experience these extremes, rather than observing them, as Anderson uses every tool at his disposal to put us directly within Barry’s feverish worldview: When the score is oppressively percussive, we’re infected with Barry’s own excruciating stress, and when the score soars with romance under externally mundane events, we’re reminded of the heart-shaking significance of this moment in his life. When a shot goes agonizingly long without the relief of a cut, we’re left stranded along with Barry wondering when this anguish might end, but when a scene is shattered by a jagged flurry of cuts to accompany the introduction of some new character or information, we’re stranded again as both we and Barry struggle to process this sudden influx of input. And when a frightening outburst of Barry’s is shot with cold objectivity, we become implicated as Barry then turns to see everyone—ourselves included—staring at him, reminding us, somehow even more keenly from an outer vantage than if we were within his, how lonely it feels to lose control when everyone else has retained it.

For a young man trained on traditional film grammar, never forced to sort out provocative juxtapositions, this was all too much. Three-quarters of the way through the film, I broke. As Barry and Lena lay in bed on the verge of consummation, whispering flirtatious threats of violence—“I’m looking at your face and...I just wanna fucking smash it with a sledgehammer.” “I want to chew your face and I want to scoop out your eyes and I want to eat them.”—my discomfort flipped into revulsion. I’d made every effort to engage with this movie, and now I felt mocked, a sting that burned all the more for my low-humming fear that I was still too immature, and so worthy of that mockery. I built a wall between myself and the screen just before the finale erupted in a crescendo of cruelty, rage, courage, and love, numbing myself in the nick of time. Rather than grapple with any of my intense responses, I made a simple ruling: this was the worst movie I had ever seen.

Three months later, I went off to a new school, three hours from home. It was my idea, an attempt to shake some measure of courage and confidence into my life, but as my departure approached, I started experiencing explosive bursts of emotion. One night, seized by something I could neither understand nor articulate, I punched a wall, shattering the plastic casing around the light switch. I was shocked at how much damage I could do on a volatile impulse, and my anger melted into bitter self-loathing.

When I arrived and started settling into my new dorm, my new roommate and I tried to bond through that age-old young man’s ritual of comparing pop culture tastes. I mentioned that I had recently seen the worst movie ever made: Punch-Drunk Love.

“You probably didn’t understand it,” my roommate sniffed. He hadn’t seen it, but he knew it was artsy stuff.

“Yes I did!” I spat back. “And there was nothing to understand!”

I didn’t have the vocabulary to defend my opinion, only the memory of my amorphous distress. But before I could gather my thoughts, I was overcome with shame at being accused of intellectual inferiority. This was the imposter syndrome that I had crossed states to escape. But the invisible infection couldn’t be shaken that easily.

Slowly but surely, in fits and starts, I kept growing up. I was in college when Anderson released his next film, There Will Be Blood. I tagged along with two more enthusiastic friends, and while I expected a dreary historical epic, I was startled by how strange and lithe the movie was, shocked that it could have come from the director of the worst movie I’d ever seen. I was in grad school when Anderson released his follow-up, The Master, and I watched it alone out of tentative curiosity—then rushed back out immediately with friends, eager to share this enigmatic bruiser of a film. Before long, I was routinely citing it as my favorite movie.

I doubled back to his earlier films; I loved both Boogie Nights and Magnolia, but they felt like the work of a different artist entirely, one less sure on his feet and more indebted to his influences than the one who’d produced these singular masterpieces in the past decade. Falling in love with his remaining body of work, though, never sparked any interest in reconsidering Punch-Drunk Love; I remembered everything I’d hated about it. But I was nagged by curiosity as to how this little film I recalled as so spiteful and ugly might serve as a link between these two eras in his work. When it showed up on Netflix, I finally bit the bullet, pressing play with the apprehension of a spurned lover at risk of being hurt all over again.

The intellectual response was the same: I have never seen anything like this. But as I experienced all the same whiplash that unmoored me a decade earlier, the emotional response was flipped, leaving me breathless with joy. Where before I had seen nothing but a haze of ugliness, I could now sort and compartmentalize the stylistic juxtapositions, and the result was one of the richest viewing experiences I’d ever had.

Early on, there’s something approaching the kind of conventional joke I had once expected from a grown-up Adam Sandler movie. In the middle of the first stressful warehouse set piece, Barry offers to demonstrate a new non-breakable plunger for potential buyers. He smashes the plunger on the table, and it shatters in a geyser of particles. He remarks, “OK, this was one of the old ones.” That moment could come from a comedy of any style, but a conventional one would use editing and sound design to help us process the joke. Here, the moment is only one note in a symphony of anxiety and it’s played so deadpan that it almost crosses the line into anti-comedy. On first viewing, I was so behind the 8-ball I would barely have registered the opportunity to laugh.

I now had the benefit of Anderson’s full filmography to decode the sequence. Each of his films has a prankster’s spirit that evinces an admirable lack of pretension. Even the towering Old Testament-style epic There Will Be Blood was largely influenced, he claims in interviews, by Tom and Jerry and Spy vs. Spy. That willingness to subvert genre expectation is a large part of what makes him so appealing as an artist. While some “serious” filmmakers feel the need to saturate their dramas with unvarying solemnity, Anderson has the confidence to play with every shade of tone available, knowing that this variance will make each disparate element pop to maximum effect.

When a bleak drama is subverted by jolts of laughter, it’s a relief; comedy subverted by unvarnished pain and distress, though, is a much more acquired taste. Watching Punch-Drunk Love now, I marvel at the unbearably tense warehouse scenes because I recognize the puckish spark and unique vision in that discordant cinematic symphony. But as an adolescent, I didn’t yet have the necessary experience and context to laugh along with provocation. Feeling mocked, I responded with a very adolescent outrage.

From my current vantage a decade and a half removed, though, my adolescent response strikes me as appropriate. Josh and I weren’t just irritated in 2002, we were rattled to our cores in ways we could only process with agitated babbling and shrill jokes. That disturbed intensity, it seems so clear now, was an unconscious attempt to control the narrative for why we felt how we did, to assure ourselves that we were sophisticated cinephiles with complete perspective on our revulsion. But if we’d truly had perspective, we would have been recognized the truth too awful to reckon with in that moment: that Punch-Drunk Love functions on a very specific level for adolescent boys, one so precise and intense that it’s easier to look away from than to accept. It’s simultaneously an expression of fantasies they don’t dare express, and a bleak realization of their darkest fears.

Each of Barry’s defining traits perfectly matches the profile of a typical adolescent boy. He’s agonizingly uncomfortable in his own skin, constantly shifting posture and expression in search of some elusive social ease. His trademark primary-blue suit, which appears at first to be a flourish of heightened production design, is quickly revealed to be a deliberate affectation—when an employee asks why he’s wearing a suit, Barry responds, “I bought one. I thought it would be nice...and I’m not exactly sure why.” I would wager most adolescent boys have experimented with similar sartorial trademarks in hopes of crystallize their identity—Maybe I’ll be a hat guy, maybe I’ll be a Chuck Taylors guy. On that chilly October night when I first watched Punch-Drunk Love, I can say with virtual certainty that I was wearing the canvas jacket I’d recently festooned with carefully selected pins and patches, and which I would wear daily for the next several years, convinced that as long as I wore something distinctive, I could project the illusion of a sense of self.

But Barry’s emotional troubles are more severe than social anxiety; he seems plagued by turbulent pubescent hormones, leading to mood swings that are unbecoming in a teenager but horrifying in an adult. When he’s teased by his sisters during a party, his bruised feelings surge so hot that he punches out the panes of a sliding glass door. Moments later, he confesses to his brother-in-law, “I don’t like myself sometimes,” then collapses into sobs, clasping his face as though to literally hold himself together, and lurches away moaning, “I’m sorry.” There’s a dark comedy to the sequence, but it rings recognizable to me now in a way I couldn’t have allowed myself to see as a teenager. I remember the snap into destructive rage that made me break my parents’ light switch, and I remember so often wrestling with a shame over my very existence as I struggled to imagine where I might fit into the world. Some alarm must have triggered in my teenage subconscious watching this film—there’s a chance you could feel this way forever.

At my darkest moments, this alienation convinced me I might be unworthy of romantic love. Barry clearly never outgrew this fear, and it sparks the twin plot strands that braid into a vision of simultaneous fantasy and terror. When his sister suggests introducing him to Lena, he instantly tries to sabotage the potential setup: “Yeah, I don’t wanna do that!” he responds with a sort of shocked awe. “I don’t do stuff like that!” It’s so much easier, as I knew all too well at 17, to avoid trying than it is to invite the inevitable pain of rejection.

But Barry aches for connection, so he calls a phone sex line late one night. He finds brief satisfaction for his lonely urges in the operator’s unnaturally erotic voice, unzipping his pants in a tense hunch at her direct order when he can’t delay it any longer. The next morning, she calls back and begins extorting him, a call he takes in a tight hallway, literally boxed in. It’s the realization of any anxious virgin’s darkest fear: if you accept anyone’s offer of help alleviating your loneliness, you’ll pay for it.

The extortion follows Barry throughout the rest of the film, first in phone calls that seem almost supernaturally able to track his location, then in the team of enforcers who accost him after his shockingly successful date with Lena. The fact that this blackmail threatens to destroy what seems like Barry’s first real shot at love only heightens the tragedy from an adolescent perspective.

Lena is so kind, engaging, and assertive in her desire for Barry that she’s not so much too good to be true as possibly divine. She’s the platonic ideal of a first girlfriend, the kind of girl your mom would love but who’ll eagerly participate in your most embarrassing bedroom desire (say, Barry’s urge to whisper violent threats as foreplay). She’s the teenage ideal, and this miracle is put at risk because just days earlier Barry accepted his unworthiness of love and paid for sexual relief. It’s a perfectly calculated recipe for teenage despair.

We learn very little about Lena, and why she might pursue Barry with such intense focus despite his initial resistance. Her nigh-supernatural goodness does beg the question of whether she represents a complete character; we’re left to fill in the blanks about her, and while Watson’s performance paints a vibrant portrait, she’s certainly thinly sketched on the page. But in a story that places us in the mindset of an overgrown adolescent, a preternaturally perfect love interest seems appropriate. How many adolescent boys are actually capable of considering the objects of their affection as three-dimensional beings? If the happy ending, the promise of a future with Lena, offers Barry the chance to finally leave adolescence behind, then the perspective it takes to actually deserve Lena, to see her as a complex person, is a door that opens as the credits roll—a door that I, as an adolescent identifying with Barry so strongly that I repressed it as a coping mechanism, would be only dimly aware of for years to come.

A question has nagged me since I first revisited Punch-Drunk Love: was my old roommate right? Did I, in fact, not understand this movie on first viewing? With a few more years’ perspective and many more viewings under my belt, I don’t think so. I may now have the context to recognize Anderson’s goals, but that doesn’t mean I watched the film incorrectly before. Films aren’t cold and static objects. They’re dynamic organisms, built to provoke emotional responses, and as long as our inner landscapes can change, a film will change with us. You can watch a film until you’ve memorized every inflection of every line reading, and still be caught off guard on the hundredth viewing thanks to some new significance that couldn’t have coalesced before you became the person you are today. A final, definitive understanding of a movie is as elusive as final, definitive understanding of yourself.

In my mid-20s, I noticed a pattern: whenever I look back at who I was five years ago, I feel disappointed in the choices I made, embarrassed by what I thought was important. I feel relief that those times are behind me, and a temptation to believe that I’ve finally got it figured out, that I’ve won the game of growing up and it’s smooth sailing from here. But with every half-decade’s leap, I can sense another me five years in the future looking back in disappointment. It’s tough to grapple with this knowledge that you’ll always be a work in progress, but there’s liberation in it, too. It can be such a burden to know that you’re irrefutably right, and that any challenge to your worldview is an act of spite.

Whenever anyone asks why Paul Thomas Anderson is my favorite filmmaker, I say that his films only grow richer on repeat viewings, largely because they always leave with some question. I still puzzle over the symbolic value of the car crash that opens Punch-Drunk Love and is never remarked upon. I haven’t managed to fully track the role the harmonium plays in Barry’s emotional journey, though I’m developing a hunch that you could compare it to the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey, and that reading might help contextualize some of those weird sound effects. Better watch it again through that lens and see what happens.

It’s so tantalizing to feel like enlightenment is just beyond my reach, that the next viewing will bring me that much closer, and that maybe, if I’m lucky, someday I might catch that missing piece that brings it all together.

Punch-Drunk Love changed for me once again on my most recent viewing. I was struck more than ever by the ending.

I had just enough time to squeeze in that short runtime while my wife and daughter went out to brunch—it turns out my fear of never loving myself enough to be loved, the fear that once made the film unpalatable, was yet another certitude that just needed a little patience and perspective.

We actually settled very close to where Josh grew up—and he settled, along with his wife and son, only a few miles from where I grew up; funny how life rhymes that way sometimes—so I often go back to that drafty seaside arthouse where we underwent that formative trauma. It’s the best place around to see challenging films, so I went back this January to see Phantom Thread, the eighth feature film by Paul Thomas Anderson. His career is twice as long now, and I’m twice as old—making me the age that he was when Punch-Drunk Love was released; another rhyme—so I’m even more tuned in to the way his style has grown in sophistication, how his thematic concerns have deepened. But that prankster energy is still there in the way he subverts period romantic drama with deviant sadism, and that penchant for a strange and incongruous obscenity—it’s impossible not to laugh in disbelief when Reynolds Woodcock shouts that, “no one gives a tinker’s fucking curse,” or when Lancaster Dodd processes his frustration in The Master by cutting off his thought with a sputtering, “PIG FUCK.” There are so few important directors working in important genres so willing to get so weird. His movies may be even more grown-up now, but goodness knows he’s still him.

I’d never before been particularly struck by the final line of Punch-Drunk Love. But this time it took my breath away. As I kept an ear out for my family’s return, I considered Barry sitting at his harmonium—I’ll crack that riddle next time for sure—and then I considered Lena, wrapping her arms around this overgrown adolescent who may finally have a fighting chance at becoming a man. I considered that quiet moment at the crossroads where one story ends, and so many more are about to begin.

“So,” Lena says quietly, “Here we go.” Time for another great leap forward.

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