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privateanxieties · 3 years ago

Text

you and me, we’re absolute

Synopsis: There they were, looking at the face of the person they used to know and realizing that all versions of themselves ultimately lose each other. But him and her, they’re absolute. Across space and time, Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy find each other, no matter how much time they have together.

Summary: The ‘what if Gwen also came back but it’s another version of her, but she looks the same’ story.

Warnings: angst, talk of death, grief, soft ending (don’t worry, it’s not sad), spoilers for NWH (set during NWH)

Words: 6.8k

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It could not have been more simple: make the antidotes, find the targets, cure them and send them home to a changed fate.

Dr. Connors and Electro seemed more determined than ever to fight for their interests, but Peter felt more confident than he did before. He had teammates now - brothers, he thought.

There they were, two other Peters, working on their own serums in a high school science lab, doing what they usually did, or tried to do: the right thing.

He was trying to be subtle while taking in the scene that he still had a hard time believing was happening.

He was in another dimension. A different universe where a different version of him existed, and he was also Spider-man. He also experienced defeat and loss, and he needed someone to guide him, to steer him away from the paths better left alone.

They could do that for him, be that for this young Peter. They could fill in the gaps where his friends couldn't.

The experience of being Spider-man was unique to them, and they could support each other through it, even if for a little while.

Not that this world's Peter had no support; his friends were clearly keepers. The tender moment he witnessed between young Peter and MJ gave him hope that he'd be alright, despite his loss. This Peter had a good support system, something he couldn't say he shared. At least, not for a long time.

"Uh, guys? I don't think this is working. I can't re-program these synapses to stop absorbing electricity. They keep neutralizing everything I do.", Ned called out, grabbing everyone's attention.

Snapping out of his nostalgic thoughts, Peter looked to where the young man was struggling, clearly frustrated that his antidote wasn't working. Ned had been assigned Max - Electro - whose powers were probably the trickiest out of all of them. God knows how long it took him to figure out how to keep Electro from frying his web shooters along with himself. And to think that in the end, it wasn't even him who figured it out, but -

Swallowing hard, Peter approached the counter where Ned was working, while the others went back to work after the brief interruption, thinking they'd handle it.

"Hey. What's going on? Talk me through it.", Peter said in a low voice. Something about being back in a school and working on a team project made him remember lab etiquette.

Ned paused for a moment, seemingly taking in his presence (not the first time he'd done that in the short time he'd been here) before clearing his throat.

"Ok, so - here it is. These cells replicate faster than the artificial suppressors can stifle them, so I thought I could re-program them to just stop doing what they're doing instead of stopping them from multiplying.", Ned said.

"Yeah, that's… that should work. So why doesn't it?", Peter asked, prompting Ned to look at him in anticipation.

"Well, I thought you'd know, since he's your villain and all.", he responded simply.

Silence.

"Yeah… that's not how that works. Not to mention, I kinda didn't defeat him I just sort of… anyway.", Peter said awkwardly, trying to avoid thinking what he was thinking.

"I had help.", he added lamely, the lump in his throat making it difficult to look Ned in the eye.

However, Ned didn't seem to be fazed by his omission. Ever the optimist, Ned turned towards Peter and his next words knocked the air right out of him.

"Well, did the person who helped you know that you're Spider-Man?"

It took Peter a few seconds to compose himself, coughing to cover up lost time in an already uncomfortable conversation.

"Yeah - um, yes, but -", he began, yet was cut off swiftly by Ned, who turned around as if determined to save the day. With his back now to Peter, he lifted both his arms and tried his luck once more that evening, not stopping to ask for permission.

"I wish we could get help from the person who helped you the first time.", he spoke confidently, waving his right arm in a circle and holding his left steady.

Peter's reaction was immediate.

"No! Don't do that! - "

Yet he was too late, his words dead in his throat and the tension in his head maxed out from what he felt in that moment; nothing but terror at seeing the orange portal open on the other side of the lab.

Frozen in place, unblinking - that was his state as he glimpsed through the opening a silhouette moving towards them - towards him - with careful steps.

The seconds seemed to stretch an eternity, and he was sure his heart was ready to burst the way he felt it in his chest, his throat, his forehead - everything hurt.

Until it didn't.

The masked figure that stepped out from the portal was clad in a spandex suit, although this one was crafted out of black and white fabric, intertwining in sharp angles across the torso and contrasted with patches of pink in a spider web pattern on the arms. Completing the look was a pair of blue pointe shoes that looked both completely out of place and somehow indispensable to the overall outfit.

If the suit left any doubt as to the identity of the person, the hair on his arm raising at the new presence certainly put it to bed. Another Spider -um, person?

Just like that, he could breathe again. Right in time for the commotion that ensued when the others realized what Ned had done.

"Are you insane?! You can't just -"

"Ned, what did you just do??"

"Who is that? Did -"

Everyone spoke over each other at different volumes, but the relief Peter felt in those few moments couldn't be ruined even by the headache he felt coming on. He could breathe now, and that was all that mattered. Composing himself as well as he could, he tried taking control of the situation since everyone else seemed enraged and panicked. He already worked through those emotions a few seconds prior, so he felt capable.

First, he could try to explain the situation.

"Hey! Everyone - calm down. Everything's fine, just.. Ned thought we could use some help and he didn't really think about what he was doing and he opened a portal…", he began, trying to get everyone's attention.

"Ned, you can't just go opening portals without telling people. That could've been anyone walking in and we don't need any more surprises.", the youngest Peter spoke, the edge in his voice sending shivers down Ned's spine.

"Yeah man, not a good idea. I get that you were trying to do a good thing, but you have to think before you introduce more chaos into the world. Just because it worked out the first time around…", MJ supported, though she spoke more kindly than Peter did.

Ned looked at both his friends, their disapproval starting to gnaw its way into his mind. They were right. He got ahead of himself and maybe got a little high on the magic he discovered was in his blood. He was no longer just the guy in the chair tonight. Although he always loved and wanted to be there for Peter like that, tonight opened up a world of possibility for Ned. He could do things for others and for himself now, and with that knowledge came a relief he enjoyed. He had more tools at his disposal to help his friends and make a difference, but it seemed they weren't welcomed.

With a sigh leaving him and shoulders sagged, he spoke without looking his friends in the eye.

"I'm sorry. I just thought we could use someone's help who's done it before.", he said in a small voice.

He didn't have much time to dread the response, because the silence that followed was broken moments later by a voice that didn't belong to anyone in the group.

"Who's done what before?"

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It was strange how quickly the air left his lungs. Odd how swiftly his chest caved in, crushing his heart without any pain.

He was stuck, frozen in place without any control of his limbs.

That voice.

The voice that he sometimes still heard, distorted, in his dreams.

The voice that motivated him to keep going when he gave up on everything.

The voice that refused to scream on the way down so he wouldn't be haunted for the rest of his life.

If he wasn't already on the floor, he was sure it wouldn't be much longer.

His mouth started moving without him, so anything was possible.

But apparently, he wasn't saying anything intelligible, let alone coherent, because everyone in the room was looking at him.

Everyone, except the newcomer, who was not just looking, but staring a hole into his existence - or it felt that way.

The room became even more suffocating than before, but no one spoke a word.

No one needed to, because when the newcomer reached for the edge of the mask and pulled it off, Peter did hit the floor.

No. She's not real. She's not here. It's not real.

"Peter?"

But then, his name left her lips in the same gentle manner she had always said it, and his mind and body went into overdrive in a split second.

"Gwe.. Gwen."

Her name was all he managed, because every other part of his brain was focused on taking her in. All the things he's known and loved, all her freckles - the way - the way her chest moved up and down.

"Peter… you're ok.", she said, approaching him with careful steps, arms raised mid-way by her sides. It seemed like forever before she finally crouched down in front of him, and he sank even more into the counter he was leaning against. He didn't mean to recoil, but his body was on autopilot and he couldn't breathe. He needed space.

"I.. Peter, I won't hurt you. I promise. You're safe, I promise. I'm so - I'm so sorry, Pete.", she tried.

In her voice, he heard fragments of what he's been holding onto for nearly seven years. All of it, flooding his mind and threatening to force his skull to shrink. All the things that make a person remove themselves from a world that begrudges them happiness and sinks every effort to keep their head above water.

Suffocating grief.

What did she have to be sorry for when he failed her?

He couldn't do it - he couldn't let her think any of this was her fault.

It took no small amount of effort to start picking himself up off the floor. In his first attempt, he took stock of all his limbs and decided they were serviceable enough to try, but his legs didn't quite cooperate, still numb and tingly.

In his second attempt, frustration mounting, he pushed up forcefully but lost his balance halfway there, prompting her to immediately react to steady him.

He didn't mean to let out that noise at her touch, and he didn't mean for it to be so loud.

He didn't mean to crash into her arms a few moments after.

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After everything that's happened to her in the past 24 hours, Gwen really shouldn't have been that surprised at the glowing orange - um, portal. Glowing orange portal.

First, New York wasn't New York anymore, and now a magic portal opened a few feet away from her.

And yet, out of everything, that mattered least.

Whether the portal was magic, or a hallucination, or a bad dream entirely, she couldn't help but be compelled to walk towards it, because the sight of him would be something she'd follow anywhere, even after all this time.

Even if she could sense her knees getting weaker the closer to the portal she got.

Her mind almost couldn't process the red and blue suit he was wearing, but his eyes were as bright as ever. Beautiful, brown eyes focused right on her.

God, his eyes.

The last time she saw them, they were looking away, avoiding hers. He couldn't meet her gaze after telling her he didn't want to see her around anymore, that he'd outgrown her company.

But that was a lie, wasn't it?

That wasn't the last time she saw his eyes.

As painful as it was, she still preferred to consider that the last time they saw each other, rather than the truth of the actual last time. When she did what she'd never forgive herself for doing.

It was like a magnet was pulling her towards the opening in reality, and she was letting it without hesitation.

Anything to see him again, even if it was already pulling at her heart.

Stepping through, the portal didn't take long to close behind her.

Had she been looking, she would've noticed that everyone was staring with seemingly different degrees of concern. But she wasn't looking anywhere other than at him.

He looked and sounded exactly like she knew him, if a little more mature. Maybe it was just the scruff around his jaw, or the way his hair was styled. Maybe it was just that he wasn't her Peter, but her mind couldn't process that knowledge when he was standing right in front of her, alive and well. Staring right at - or through - her. He was looking so intensely. He always had.

People were arguing. Teenagers, by the looks of it. She only caught the last bit, spoken by someone apparently named Ned.

"I'm sorry. I just thought we could use someone's help who's done it before.", he said.

That was her they were walking about, so she felt it was the right time to finally intervene and figure out what was going on, and in the process distract herself from all the thoughts swirling in her mind.

"Who’s done what before?", she asked, not knowing the chaos her question would reveal.

She heard his breathing stop, and in an almost automatic response, hers hitched too. He looked afraid, the very thing she couldn't stand witnessing. His breath wasn't resuming, and his heart was picking up. He was starting to look more and more the way he did that night. And Gwen couldn't bear it.

Without any hesitation, she pulled off her mask, hoping it would prompt a positive reaction, but it did the very opposite. Seeing him collapse against the counter did funny things, like reordering her entire list of priorities and placing him above everything else.

"Peter?", she asked gently, voice so quiet she could barely hear herself.

"Gwe.. Gwen.", he stuttered.

He recognized her. He knew her. And her name coming from his lips, even in that broken way, nearly singed a hole in her heart. She buried him two years ago, yet here he was, speaking - saying her name. He was so focused on her every move, trying to anticipate it and counter, almost like he didn't remember… she'd never hurt him. She wouldn't. She never should have.

Gathering the strength to talk to him as a friend when she knew herself to be the reason he was so stricken with fear, she only managed a few words.

"Peter… you're ok."

Gwen didn't know when she made her legs finally work, but she was approaching him slowly, carefully and with no small degree of fear herself. What if he told her to get away? What if he lashed out? What if, what if, what if. Anything he would've done had the potential to tear her heart open even more.

"I.. Peter, I won't hurt you. I promise. You're safe, I promise. I'm so - I'm so sorry, Pete.", were the words she found as she crouched down in front of him, trying not to flinch at the way he recoiled.

He still wasn't breathing, yet he was attempting to move, as if his singular purpose was getting away from her. She couldn't blame him.

On his first try, he slipped back against the counter, but on his second, he used too much force, and it sent him off balance. Gwen reacted instinctively, grabbing his upper arms and trying to ignore the electricity coursing through her at that single touch.

But she couldn't, because his reaction almost floored her along with him. That noise he let out, that finally made her understand - he wasn't afraid of her. She heard that sound before, escaping her own mouth, for weeks and months after his death. It was grief, sweltering and unforgiving, and so was the weight of him in her arms when his hyperventilating finally knocked him out.

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The first thing he noticed upon waking up were the muffled voices of people speaking in another room. Drowsy as he was, he couldn't initially make out any distinct words, but being Spider-Man meant a quick recovery.

He didn't recognize the room he was in at first, but a quick observation of his surroundings placed this as most likely some sort of teacher's lounge, and the soft surface he was lying on as some sofa/bed hybrid.

It smelled a little weird. One thing he didn't miss about school was how easily his senses were overloaded with stimuli, most of them downright disgusting.

Sitting up slowly, he focused his hearing by closing his eyes, and soon enough the conversation nearby was revealed.

"So he isn't your Peter?"

"I don't… think so, no. He's very much like him, though."

Wishing to avoid a repeat of earlier, he was doing his best to keep his breathing steady.

"Then how did you come here? I though only people who know Peter Parker is Spider-Man slipped through."

"Shouldn't you know that?"

"Wait a minute. How do we know we can trust you? You saw his reaction! If she's not the Gwen he knew, what if she's dangerous?"

And all at once, he couldn't sit still anymore. It didn't take him long to get back to the lab, considering it was only at the other end of the hallway. It was a good thing too, because things were getting a little agitated. He couldn't blame young Peter for his reactions tonight, after everything he's been through in such a short time. He wouldn't, however, let anyone interfere with this. Whatever this was, it was meant for him to deal with.

"She isn't dangerous.", he said from the doorway. She turned to him a split second before everyone else, and it almost made him smile.

"You're awake.", she breathed in relief, taking half a step towards him.

He nodded.

"Yeah, had to take a little nap, recharge my batteries. Got a big fight coming up.", he quipped unexpectedly.

He had no idea where that came from, but he was done trying to measure his reactions. The sight of her was turning him inside out, making him feel both young and old, powerful and frail. In love and heartbroken.

"Well then you should go lie back down, you're not looking so good yet.", she threw back unexpectedly.

So every version of her wouldn't hesitate to mess with him. Good to know.

He felt a real smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, though unsuccessfully.

"Can we - can we talk? I think we should… talk.", Peter said, forgetting about everything else.

"Yeah… yeah, I think we should do that.", Gwen replied softly.

Silence.

They were staring at each other as if that qualified for a conversation, and it gave everyone else in the room a universally known cue to leave. The oldest Peter was first to pick up on it, and he quietly ushered everyone out of the room. With nearly all antidotes complete, they could afford some time to discuss strategy and leave the two in privacy.

It felt like nobody said anything for the longest time, yet the air didn't fall heavy on their shoulders. The tension seemed to have evaporated with Peter's earlier episode, and now an understanding flowed between them. He didn't know what might've been said while he was out cold, therefore he didn't know what information she had.

All he could be sure of was that now, they were both looking at a version of someone they knew. Or, in his case, a version of someone he'd once known.

"I lost him too. My Peter.", she whispered out of nowhere, breaking the silence and a bit of his brain along with it. How did -

"You look like him. You look so much like him… and I know that I look like her, like your Gwen. I must, or you wouldn't have recognized me. I'm sorry that -"

"Stop.", he interrupted with a surprising bite. He could already map out the conversation ahead of them, and he would derail it in an instant if it went any further.

"Don't give me the platitudes. You don't know - You don't know what happened to her. What I did to her. How I failed to do the one thing I'm supposed to do, the only thing this suit is even good for. And I just can't hear you say those things in her voice. I can't.", Peter continued, knowing that with every word he was placing that crushing weight back on his chest and letting it ruin him. Even after all this time, he loved to torture himself over it.

Gwen didn't say anything in return for a while, and the look in her eyes as she appeared to stare off to the side of him was starting to unnerve him. He wouldn't take back his words, but he wouldn't let her assume the worst of him either. Or he wouldn't have, if she hadn't spoken first.

"So we both know how hard it is to stand in front of the person we killed."

Peter froze.

"And not just stand there, but talk to them; hear their voice, and try to convince yourself you're not imagining it. That you haven't lost your mind after all that time you've been without them. And that… whatever this is, however painful it is, it doesn't matter. Because it's worth everything, just to see them again. Even if it isn't really them."

This was too much.

But it was also what he needed to hear in order to understand who he was talking to. This wasn't another version of Gwen. This was another version of himself, with the same pain, and the same faults; the same failure graced both of their features and tainted the symbol they were wearing.

Was this how the Universe worked? Amassing cruelty and spreading it unevenly across consciousness? How was a person to keep standing under all that guilt?

He wasn't taking his eyes off her now, so he didn't miss the bitter, watery smile forming.

"I don't know if this means something. Maybe… maybe our paths were supposed to cross, you know?", she tried, though Peter could tell she wasn't really saying that with any conviction.

Her mention of paths crossing did stir something in him. His Gwen had said the very opposite of that on one of the last occasions they saw each other. After ups and downs in their relationship, they were on diverging paths for good as Gwen pursued her future on another continent. That was what should've happened. It was what always should've happened. Their paths converging would only ever lead to heartache and tragedy.

She had to know that. He had to tell her.

"No, Gwen…", he began, his breath catching on her name, "you and I, every version of us… whatever we do, we end up here. It always cuts short. I don't think there's any universe where we get to have each other. I don't think you and I ever grow old together. And if we keep trying… we fail."

It was hard, but saying it brought a relief he seldom experienced. It was what he should've said to her all those years ago, and it made little difference saying it to this Gwen now, but his heart calmed regardless. He needed to sit in the silence of what he'd just said. It was a different world now because of the words he spoke into it.

She didn't let him.

"I read a theory of quantum realities once… I think I was half-drunk when I did. It talked… about intersecting markers crossing every reality, their only purpose being to provide an anchor, something to ground the multiverse without breaking it apart. Of course, nothing that traverses realities intersects for long, not in the grand scheme of things. But they are, still, absolute points in time. They're not made, so they can't be changed. But they exist absolutely, independently of everything else. That's us, Peter. We're each other's absolute point in time. Although we break apart, we hold something together that's bigger than ourselves. That's why… that's why it hurts so much to carry this alone. We're supposed to do it together. That's why, when we cross paths, it's inevitable. We stay together until we don't. That's us."

Nothing much could be said after that, especially not when Peter knew he wasn't the best with words. That had always been her thing - in this reality, and apparently in every other. He couldn't just stand there, but he didn't know what to say.

"It's eerie how similar you are. He never handled talking about sentimental stuff very well, either.", Gwen said, evidently trying to find a way back into a more mundane conversation. Peter was glad to take the bait.

"Yeah? What would he say?", he asked.

"He wouldn't say anything. He'd just do his best to let me know he heard me, that he understood. And it was enough."

Peter spoke before his brain caught it.

"Can I hug you?"

Gwen's surprise melted into understanding very quickly, and to Peter's own surprise, she took the first step forward. Would he let her come to him or would he go to her? He was somewhat afraid he'd slam into her with no regard to his strength if he did, and by the time he made up his mind, she was already right there.

So close.

It was a sensation Peter wouldn't ever be able to describe properly, that of placing his arms around her. Although she looked and sounded like his Gwen, that was where the physical similarities ended. This Gwen was, most noticeably, taller by a couple of inches, and her built was likely influenced by the spider bite. Whenever he hugged Gwen, it felt like the comfort of the warmest blanket. This Gwen seemed, somehow… more sturdy. Like a person you might lean on for balance, because they give you some of your confidence back.

They both felt safe, just in different ways.

As they stood there, each lost in thought and feeling no urge to pull away, their minds circled back to the circumstances they found themselves in.

Gwen spoke first.

"How did you get here?"

The vibration of her voice spreading out through Peter's chest sent a shiver down his spine that she didn't miss, and a smile tugged at her mouth that she couldn't resist.

"Same as you. Magic's real here… apparently. Isn't that just… mind-blowing?", he replied absent-mindedly as his right hand started rubbing up and down her back in a soothing motion. Gwen hummed at the sensation, eyes threatening to shut after only a few moments.

"Personally, it ranks very low for me on the list of mind-blowing things I've seen today.", she said, prompting them both to huff in amusement.

"Yeah… there's two more of me right in the next room and somehow that's not the craziest thing around."

"Mmhm… three Peters. Reality might not be able to handle that much nerdiness in one building."

"Me? You're the one reading quantum reality theories at parties!"

"I didn't say I was partying… just that I was half-drunk. You can get drunk at home, on your own."

"See - now that's really sad. Reality might not be able to handle that much sadness in one building, especially in one tiny person."

"I am not tiny. I'm of perfectly adequate size."

"Oh no, you are small. Like, so small. And tiny. I can barely feel you in my arms right now, you're disappearing in them."

"I'm pretty sure I could lift you up with just one of my arms, so your assessment is inaccurate."

"Yeah, one of your tiny arms."

"Um, excuse me? Us - Excuse us?", came a voice from the doorway, surprising both inhabitants of the room.

Just like that, their bubble was popped unceremoniously by the same person who brought them together. Ned was looking anywhere but at them, choosing instead to talk with his hands while staring at the floor.

Gwen was the first to realize it was because they were still embracing while waiting for Ned to actually speak, so she gently removed herself from Peter's arms and cleared her throat.

"Yes?"

Ned perked up immediately.

"Well, we just wanted to, you know - need to finish that antidote for Electro. I didn't want to bother you guys, but they sent me… so."

Gwen and Peter looked at each other briefly, before Peter took the lead.

"I don't know how much they told you, but we're kind of in the middle of a situation. Not that this isn't a situation, just a different one."

"Aha..", she responded, amused by his lack of explanation.

"Right! Well, basically: a lot of people from our universes got pulled into this one because of a magic spell, and they're people we - me and the other me's - have fought before. It's just that it never ends well for them, so we're going to try to help them this time, instead of sending them back to die.", Peter said.

"Alright, so how are you helping them? I keep hearing something about an antidote.", Gwen asked.

"That's right. We made one for each of them, except for… Max, because his powers are complicated."

"So where are you on that?", Gwen asked, picking up on his hesitation to divulge further. She didn't know this Peter that well, but she was already picking up on some of his cues for discomfort.

"We can't neutralize the synapses before they regenerate. His powers are like a battery, and I've fought him before, but before… he needed to draw power from other sources. Now it's like he's his own charger.", Peter said.

"Can I see a sample of what you're looking at?"

It took Peter a long second to answer, so Ned did it for him.

"Uh, yeah. That's why we brought you here - or, I brought you here. Sorry about that.", he interjected, making a line directly for the counter where he'd been working before all this.

"It's alright, it's worth my time, I think.", she said softly. Although she was answering Ned, her eyes were locked on Peter.

With Gwen's involvement, it didn't take very long to finalize the antidote for Max, which Peter should not have been surprised by. He's seen what she could do, whether it was this version of her or any other. He was confident that any universe with her in it would be all the brighter for it. Come to think of it, he still had a hard time believing there was a universe out there where she had spider powers. He's done his best to ignore it thus far, or at least not acknowledge it directly, but it was getting harder the closer to the antidote they were.

He had a sinking feeling he knew what was coming, but he was prepared for it this time.

This time, he wouldn't budge.

"Alright, that should be it.", Ned announced, taking his lab glasses off just as everyone else was starting to file into the room, as if they'd been waiting and listening, prompting Peter to fix them with a suspicious look.

"Oh, hey guys! The antidote's ready. Do we have a plan?", Ned asked.

"That we do. We're going to the Statue of Liberty. That’s where we’ll draw them out to.", the oldest Peter responded.

"Who all will be there?", Gwen took the opportunity to find out.

"Well, we have quite the roster, I'd say. There's three of mine and two of his…" he answered, nodding his head at her Peter before continuing, "…I get Osborn, Dr. Octavius and Flint Marco."

"Any of those ring any bells?", her Peter asked.

"None at all. What've you got?", Gwen answered with an amused huff.

"I get Max, or Electro as he likes to call himself, and Dr. Connors."

Gwen shook her head, not recognizing any names still.

"Huh. You'd think there'd be some overlap in bad guys, but apparently not.", MJ mused.

"We need to get ready to leave. We don't want them to surprise us before we get there. Is everyone ready?", the oldest Peter asked.

Affirmative responses sounded throughout the room, with one notable absence. Having sensed his hesitation, Gwen turned to Peter with a look of curiosity, but he wasn't looking at her.

"Are you o-"

"Can I talk to you?", he interrupted her. Not waiting for a response, he took her hand in his and led her to the hallway, shutting the door behind them for good measure.

This was not going to go his way, he knew that. But he didn't intend to play fair.

"I need you to listen to me."

Gwen waited for him to compose himself, but it didn't seem to be happening, and she had a bad feeling about it.

"You can't go. Whatever you're thinking, it can't happen. This isn't your fight.", he spoke with determination that verged on harshness.

She had an idea that was where the conversation would end up, and she wasn't unsympathetic - but she was torn.

"Listen… there's -"

"No. You can't. You're not doing this to me, again. Not - I can't let you.", he spoke over her, worrying Gwen with how frantic the look in his eyes was.

"Peter. Listen to me. I won't pretend to know everything about how you're feeling, ok? I won't. But this Peter, he's… he's a kid. He's just a kid who's having the worst night of his life. He needs all the help we can give him, and you know, you know it's not right to stand by and do nothing. I want to respect what you're asking of me, but I have this symbol on my chest for a reason. I know you understand that, too."

She hoped her words would be enough, but at the sight of his eyes, it was easy, so easy to just - give in. To just do what he wanted her to, if only he wouldn't look so sorrowful. If only it would stop the tears that began to gather in her favorite brown eyes. She could never respond in any other way than mirroring him. Different dimension or not, different Peter or not, the bond they had transcended barriers of space and time.

"Please, Gwen… just - stay with me."

Nothing had really changed, had it? He was still at that clocktower, on the same cursed night. He was trapped there, and she was trapped in his arms, unmoving. He was losing his mind, but she'd already lost everything. Her smile, her energy, her warmth - that haunted him the most. She was still warm as he held her, but she wasn't there anymore.

But then his cheeks felt warm, and he came to realize he'd closed his eyes tightly. Whether he looked or not, she was all he saw, but this Gwen standing in front of him was moving, and her smile was weighed down. Her hands were warm as she held his face, skin to skin. This Gwen was trying to get through to him, to give him her strength, and she would give him all of it, every last bit she had, if it gave him hope.

"Peter, we'll do this together. I'm not leaving your side, you're not leaving mine. We'll have each other, and we'll be alright. We have to help, despite how we feel. It's hard for me too. It's hard to see you in this suit, because I know what wearing it does to you. That's why we lean on others. Spider-Man can't be Spider-Man by himself."

It was so foreign, hearing her say those things and knowing she understood what he felt and what he wanted and needed. He'd forgotten, in the midst of everything, that she wasn't a stranger to his struggles, to the responsibility and hardship of being the hero. He forgot because he was only thinking about his pain, about his loss - only he was feeling the ground running out from under him. He was still selfish, just as before - only the hindsight of what would be unleashed upon him if he didn't play it safe kept him from acting on wants and needs. In other words, he wasn't letting himself want what he wanted because he'd already seen where that leads.

Of course he wanted this young Peter to come out the other side stronger, with faith in himself and the world, faith he'd already lost a while ago. Of course he wanted him to get all the help. That was the right thing to do.

And Peter was selfish to want his heart to be safe more than he wanted anything else.

In a way, he was torn between two kinds of self-preservation. Helping his young self was one way of making sure a Peter stayed hopeful and surrounded by loved ones, but keeping his own hope alive and unharmed was the only way he could go on fighting.

The first time, he managed to push through, but he was never quite the same.

He let Gwen make her own choices against his screaming mind and heart, and she was gone in less than an hour.

But New York… New York was saved. Countless lives were spared because of her determination, and her sacrifice.

And there he was, thinking it was his own.

Her will to do the right thing without thinking of herself was what made her his better half.

As much as Peter thought of the greater good, there was always going to be a line he couldn't cross. That's why Gwen was with him. That's why they were, as she said, absolute points in time. She could cross that line when he faltered.

She was crossing it right now.

And he had to be there to support her, because that's what they did for each other more than anyone else. New York may stand on their shoulders, but they leaned on each other for strength.

They stayed together until they didn't.

Taking a deep and ragged breath, he intended to lean his forehead against her own, but he was so out of it that it came across as more of a smack. She never budged.

Looking deeply into the blue eyes he was grateful he could see again, he brought a hand to the back of her neck, putting more pressure on it than he was used to, and she responded by tightening her grip on the sides of his jaw.

"You and me. Alright? You stay by me, and we stay together. Promise me.", he pleaded.

"I promise, Peter. We'll be ok.", she reassured him in a whisper.

"Say you'll stay by me.", he insisted in a pitch he barely recognized as himself. He knew he was unreasonable. He knew fights didn't follow a pattern or an order, and they could be separated at any given moment. He didn't care.

"I'm not leaving your side. I have to see your moves, right? Can't do that from across the field."

"What field? Gwen… are you paying attention? We're going to the Statue of Liberty. There's no field.", he informed absently. He was pretty sure he knew what was going on with her. She was looking at him in a way that had him reeling with the impulse to just kiss her.

"I'm sorry… you're just very close right now and I never… we… My Peter was…", she fumbled with her words in a murmur, not knowing what to say. But Peter did.

"You never told him you loved him."

It was simple, uncritical, honest. It was liberating to hear.

"I never got the chance."

"I'm sure he knew. I'm sure every version of me knows.", he whispered back.

He hoped she knew, and he hoped that her Peter showed her that in his own way. He couldn't imagine a reality where he knew her and wasn't in love with her.

With that thought, he gained a renewed sense of strength. The upcoming fight was no longer the climactic event he worried about, because his heart was beating in double time from other reasons. He'd get to see her in a new light, and he'd get to know another side of all she could be.

And because of that, his heart grew for the first time in years, ready to let in more of what made him feel alive, and to hope for good things again.

Ready to heal.

#peter parker x gwen stacy #peter parker #gwen stacy #the amazing spider man #spiderman no way home #no way home #fanfiction #peter parker imagine #andrew garfield #peter parker x reader #fic #imagine #tasm #peter x gwen

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hchollym · 3 years ago

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I just saw Spider-Man: No Way Home, and wow! I have so many thoughts.

Spoilers below the cut.

First of all, words cannot describe how much I love Andrew Garfield. I don’t care if everyone else hated his version of Spider-Man in The Amazing Spider-Man films, because Andrew is a gift. His portrayal of Peter in this movie was pure perfection, and I would literally watch this over and over again just for him. 🥰 🥰 🥰

It was such a fun blast from the past to see the original Doc Ock, Green Goblin, Electro, Sandman, and the Lizard. I loved seeing the actors reprise their roles, and Electro definitely got a glow-up! 🤤

DAREDEVIL! MATT MURDOCK! I will forgive how short his scene was, because it’s Charlie Cox, and his appearance was fantastic. “I’m a really good lawyer.” 🤣

I’m sorry, but Doctor Strange was putting too much of the responsibility on Peter. He was the adult and the wizard, and he knew how dangerous that spell was. He should have warned Peter about what it entailed before he started it. That’s on him. 🤷‍♀️

I can’t believe they killed Aunt May. 😱 I honestly wasn’t expecting that! It does make me wonder what happened to the MCU’s Uncle Ben though. I think we all assumed it was the same story, just off-screen, but since the great responsibility line was new for Tom’s Peter, it clearly wasn’t. So what did happen to him? 🤔

MJ throwing bread at Andrew’s Peter was hilarious, and the Lizard’s comment about how there’s no way she would date Peter was a great addition.

I adore the fact that Tobey Maguire’s Peter was the older, mature, self-aware ‘dad’ of the group, who essentially turned into Uncle Ben. His encouragement of Andrew’s Peter and the way he saved Tom’s Peter from himself was just so pure. ��️

I love the three Peters as brothers, but my baby Andrew’s Peter said “I love you guys” and his bros seriously said “Thank you.” 🤣 He needs a hug. ❤️

Some of the best lines: “I want to fight aliens”, “I’m lame compared to you guys”, “That’s great. Who are the Avengers?”, and “Are they a band? Are you in a band?!” 🤣

Electro’s comment about thinking Spider-Man was black was an awesome nod to Miles, but my poor Andrew’s Spidey can’t catch a break! 🤣😭

Andrew’s Peter catching and saving MJ when she fell after he couldn’t save Gwen in his universe, and then getting emotional about it - I just - 😭😭😭

Wait, did Doctor Strange literally just say he loves Peter? That’s sweet, but when did that happen? And he was seriously considering not doing the spell just because everyone would forget Peter, even though the alternative was the multiverse being destroyed? That seems a little... odd. 🤔

Wait, did that spell only effect Tom’s Peter? Or the Peter Parker from every universe? Did they get forgotten by everyone too? Is Tobey’s Peter going to survive? I have so many questions.

This is probably an unpopular opinion, but I’m glad that Peter didn’t remind MJ and Ned about who he was at the end of the movie. It was sad, but definitely true to most versions of Spider-Man.

LMAO at Venom/Eddie deciding to get drunk and learn about the Avengers/Thanos instead of joining the fight. 🤣

I’m definitely intrigued by the new Doctor Strange movie, mostly because the Doctor Strange from the What If...? episodes is in it!

Overall: I was surprised by how much I loved this movie, but I can admit that nostalgia might have played a huge part in that.

Characters I wish had appeared (even just for a glimpse or one line): The Punisher & the Fantastic Four.

#spider-man: no way home #spider-man: no way home spoilers #spider-man #mcu

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human-that-exists · 4 years ago

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The Death of Peter Parker

My AO3: Anonymous_Random_Potato

Summery: Peter Parker dies. Matt using a time travel machine and has 12 hours to save the one person he can't live without. Happy ending don't worry. Fluffy and and little bit of angst.

Wrote this for my birthday (May 18th). Kinda bad but there's more spideydevil in the world so it's not all too bad.

Matthew Murdock Apartment, Hell's Kitchen.Friday, September 23rd 2016"Crime rates have risen up 48 percent especially in the two weeks since the hero Spiderman has died. The avengers were able to take down sinister 6 members Doctor Octopus, Mister Negative, Electro, Vulture, Rhino and Scorpion that teamed up with both the Green Goblin and Beetle but while Spiderman fought as hard as he could his death was one of the many casualties of the night. Which leaves the question 'Who can protect New York City-" The news anchor voice being killed by the silence as the man shuts off the TV the only sounds are footsteps and the tv remote hitting the ground."I'm sorry Peter. I'm so sorry. You were right the fight was going to be big. I- I never should have let you fight them alone, I- Maybe- maybe you would still be here." Matt says to the window unseeing eyes watering. "I'm going to make this right I promise."

Peter Parker's lab in his Apartment, Queens

Monday, April 4th, 2016

"Matthew, you are one of the people I trust most in the world I need you to do something for me. Once I tell you about this you can't tell anyone about this. Not Foggy, not Karen, not Claire, not even Father Lantom, No one outside this room can know about this. Can you promise me this. Please." Peter Pleads his friend.

"Nothing said in here will leave this room if that what you want." Matt Promises Peter somewhat willing to break his promise if peter was in huge Trouble. "Just Please tell me your not in Serious Danger."

"No- no, oh no it's nothing like that. I- just- kinda- MadeamachinethatwouldallowmetotravelbackintimeforhalfdayandIcouldsavemyuncle." Peter finishes too quick even for the devil enhanced hearing to pick up on.

"My hearing good but you're going to have to slow down" Matt tells the spider. "What did you make?"

"A machine that could let me travel to the past for 12 hours that I could use to save my uncle. Which is why I need you to protected it from everyone even me it's too dangerous and could have crazy side affects to the timeline." The younger man explains and gives him a piece of paper with braille on it. "It can be voice activated if something happens and you need to destroy it. the paper has everything needed to know about how to destroy it. So please promise me that it will never be used."

Friday, September 23rd 2016

"I'm sorry I need to break our promise but the world lost a bit of it's soul the day you died. New York did. Your Aunt did. Your Friends. And Me. The world Needs you. Not just as Spider-Man but as Peter Parker too. I know I messed up but I'll fix it."

New York City

Saturday, September 3rd, 2016

"Step 1. Find myself. Shit what was I doing today. It's Saturday. So no church and I'm not at work and claire is out of town. So my apartment, Peter's or Fog's? I'll go to Foggy he will at least have some common sense and Peter is going to be mad at me for breaking our promise so Foggy seems like the save bet." Matt tells himself. "It will fine Matt it's not like he'll know that I traveled back in time."

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Peter looked at his watch confused. He put a tracker on the Time-Traveler (not his best work but oh well) if it was to ever get in the wrong and and ever was used to change the timeline he could track where or when in time the person went to but the date the person who used the Time-Traveler was today? so that means that something happens either now or in the close future someone maybe Matt or May dies and future him trying to prevent that from happening. Matt Promised he wouldn't let anyone use it and so for Future Peter to get Matthew Murdock must have died. Which Matt was always the person who Peter knew would have his back, would believe in Peter even when Peter didn't feel like he could win the fight. Without Matthew Murdock, The Devil of Hell's Kitchen, Magoo, the world would lose one of the most kind-hearted, caring, protective, noble, humble, talented men that even when it all seems lost will fight to protect what he loves, The places he loves, Who he loves. Which is one of the things I love about. I just could imagine life without him it would feel like the world stopped spinning and there wasn't any love on the planet.

"Oh.

Oh."

I AM IN LOVE WITH MATTHEW MURDOCK!

Ok. Ok. Calm down. Breath, freaking out is not helping you. You only realized you are IN LOVE WITH ONE OF YOUR BEST FRIENDS! I am screwed. So very screwed out of all the holes I got myself in how the hell do you get yourself out of this one Peter! Ok stop freaking out we need to figure out how to save Matt. How to tell Matt your feeling for him and how to not be disappointed when he rejects you because there are so many stunning flawless people out there who matt would want to date instead of some lame nerd who he works with from time to time. Ok stop getting off track and I don't know actually track myself for god sakes."Ding!"Ok, future me is at Foggy apartment..? I guess he would be able to convince Matt to not do whatever kills him. Lets go!

At Foggy Place, HK

"So you're telling me that you are from the future. And if I don't give this letter to present you than you will lose the one person who makes your world spin and stop new york from ending up in a state worse than Hell." Foggy Sighs somewhat done with his partner/friend's dramatics.

"The World Foggy. Please I have 2 hours left before I am brought back home just please I know I am not the easiest to deal with but please, I try harder to make your live easy not get hurt as much just please." Matt Pleads, Having little time left and not willing to go back to a future without Peter in it."

Matt? What? how? Wait are you the one from the future does that mean that what Foggy dies? Karen? Claire?" The Spider asks as he comes in through the window. "I told you not to let anyone use it. The timeline could be in great danger Matthew!"

"I don't have much time but I need to stop waiting for the right moment because you could die before that and I can't lose you at least not before telling you that I love you!" Matt says. "It's fine if you don't feel the same way but I can't lose you at least not without telling you how I feel."

"Matt I-"

BEEP BEEP BEEP 8 o' clock BEEP BEEP BEEP 8 o' clock

Matt wakes to find himself in bed besides him is the person who makes his world turn, his angel, his hero. Turning off his alarm clock when Peter wakes up. "Morning. I love you. but if you ever do something that stupid again I swear to god-" Peter's lecture is interrupted by Matt kissing him. "Hey! I'm trying to lecture you here!""I'm going to protect you. Keep you safe. And love you. Now let's eat breakfast we need to go to work soon." Matt tells his lover.

Crossposted in Wattpad and AO3. Read on there it's easy to read.

#spideydevil #spiderdevil #mattpeter #matt murdock #spiderman #peter parker #daredevil #foggy nelson

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chrischcw · 4 years ago

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waffle things:

the three of them adopt one of the class below them and they torment that poor froshie all year long by telling them horror stories about wellie and smh captains and louis only spoke swedish to them for a week just for a laugh. but the three of them also bake the frosh their favourite pie for their birthday so its okay.

they have a joint cosplay tiktok that is popular and they never show their face because they dont want anyone to know that the three of them are That Lame even though they are actually even lamer. bitty once emailed hops one of their tiktoks that showed up on his twitter page because he heard the word naruto and thought huh hops likes anime! bitty didn’t know it was hops and louis and bully, but hops doesn’t know that and thinks it was a threat and lives in fear of another being sent What Does It Mean

they go to karaoke every month with ford and tango and fords gf. not whiskey because whiskey cant sing and doesnt want anyone to know. none of the waffles can sing and think that this is lame of whiskey and almost dont vote for him as captain because of this. they have fun with ford and tango and fords gf tho

when they get back from roadies they make waffles from scratch. hops wanted a fun gimmick for them when they were first getting to know each other and louis was hungry after a roadie. bully didnt understand why it was happening but now its a good excuse for them to take over the living room and eat piles of waffles while yelling at whatever random cartoon is on tv. because they eat their waffles at 7am and end up waking up the rest of the haus. no one else appreciates this routine of theirs.

they end up being the group that finally brings home a haus cat. its the yr after bitty graduates and the three of them had gone to an animal shelter for fun and they saw a cute cat and thought they could hide it from dex. they did hide it from dex! but then chowder found them and called a haus meeting. they were allowed to keep the cat but chowder renamed it frog instead of waffle for punishment

louis has ruined hops and bully’s taste in music. louis has actual good taste in music but he only plays underground electro pop around hops and bully and now that is the only thing hops and bully can study to

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olivarryprompts · 3 years ago

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Fanfic Friday #9

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I post a new here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/33120742

{Peter Parker's Field Trip to Stark Industries (yes, again)}

Ships: Peter & Tony, Bucktony, Peppernat

Warnings: nothing just fluff :)

Wc: 2,920

Finally the annual school field trip had come around. Each year, each grade level went on a trip to a cool company, place, or experience. They, Peter had found, tended to be quite fun. The previous year they’d gone to a cool place where they learned parkqure. Peter, imaginablelly, was very good. He and Ned were so looking forward to this one. “Hello 10th grade, as you know, we are announcing the annual field trip dates. This year, we’ve decided to keep the destination anonymous. We are going this Friday, and it is one of the best ones we have had in years. Please take an NDA form and consent form home for you and at least one guardian to sign. You may go now.” Ned and Peter headed towards the door with giddy smiles. “Mr. Parker, a word?” Ms. Giles, the teacher who’d announced the trip, said. “Hi Ms. Giles, what’s up?” “Hello Peter. I’m just going to have to break this to you. Unfortunately, due to the lies you have been spreading about having an internship at Stark Industries we cannot allow you on this trip. This is a lesson on why not to lie. It is unfortunate you cannot join us on the trip, but the punishment we’ve decided seems fair. You’ve been tinting Midtown’s name.” “But the internship is real! I filed all the paperwork and everything. Mr. Stark signed them!” “Sorry Peter, this lying must stop. You should come in on Friday and take your other classes.” “But-” “Enough Peter.” He left, sprinting out of the class and then the school. He really did not want to talk to anyone. He quickly made his way to the black SUV waiting for him. Happy greeted him with a hello, and Peter responded with a nod. Happy sensed the kid didn’t want to talk so he left him be. By the time they arrived at the tower, Peter’s lack of rest had gotten to him. He intended to go upstairs and take a nap, but, of course, he got roped into everything other than that.Happy, of course, dropped him at the back near the private entrance. He rode the elevator to the 90th floor. Sam and Clint were playing Mario Kart on their world wii. Tony was sitting there, working on some suit designs with Bucky cuddled into his side. Pepper was at the kitchen table working on CEO things. He was surprised she wasn’t in her office. He tried to slip through the room and into his own room, but he was, obviously, stopped. “Where are you going kid?” Tony asked. “My room, I need a nap.” “What happened kid?” Bucky asked. Bucky and Tony had basically become his fill in dads, them being together and all. “Nothin just, I'm not allowed on my school’s trip this year.” “Why?” Tony said, suddenly perked up. “Just don’t believe me about the ‘Stark Internship,’” He mumbled under his breath. “They-What?” Bucky said, concerned for Peter’s well being. “They don’t believe that I do work here I guess?” “The teachers?” Tony asked. “Yeah.” “But you filed all the things.” “Yeah, I know. I don’t really care that much, so-” “No way!” Tony said, pulling out his phone. “Tones, relax,” Bucky said, stroking the other man’s arm, “If you're okay with it, we’ll leave it.” “We will not!” “Tony! We will leave it. Just, at least, take the day off on Fri, kiddo.” “Yeah,” Peter said, thinking that was fair, “Thanks.” “Wanna play kid?” Clint said, throwing him a wii remote. “Play? I’m going to crush you guys,” Peter smirked. All three were very competitive and Mario Kart games were the height of that. Bucky ended up cuddling into Tony’s side which, though they all made fun of the couple, was very cute. Clint yelled something about Peter having Spidey sense so it was unfair. Sam just called him a sore loser. Pepper yelled at them to keep it down. “Hey boys,” Nat said, entering, “Oh Mario Kart. Pass me a remote.” They had just finished the mushroom prix, so she easily joined their game and the chaos continued. “Where did you just come from?” Peter asked. “Top secret mission with Cap.” “Oh spill the tea,” Peter said. “No one will be spilling anything on these custom, expensive sofas!” “Relax Stark, it’s a phrase used by the youth these days,” Sam filled in, laughing at the older man. “Go on then, Nat,” Peter

urged her on. “It’s just some stolen bombs, and some parts could be used to possibly make nuclear weaponry. We’re heading to Greece tomorrow.” “Need back up?” Tony offered. “Maybe if you started working with Shield, you’d be able to come,” Nat rolled his eyes. “Never,” Tony huffered. “Sounds more fun than school,” Peter remarked. “That should not be this kid’s definition of fun,” Bucky said with a laugh. “Agreed,” Clint said. “All this bullying I endure,” Peter joked. “Ha get red shelled mother fucker!” Sam yelled. “I hate you,” Nat said, calmly losing her first place. “One your left,” I said, passing Sam. “Shut up little kid, get your own line.” “I own you oldies.” “Oh and what about the blue shell coming up?” Clint laughed. Peter slowed down, and allowed Sam to overtake him. “Ha take that kid! Fir-” Sam got blue shelled. “Oh you little shit.” Peter slipped back into first where he finished the race. “You're too good at this game, паук, “ Nat said, excusing herself with a smile. A few races later Peter said, “I’m going to go do some shit in the lab.” “See ya kid,” Bucky said, “he’s turning into you.” Bucky said the last bit to Tony, but super-hearing ya know. “Hey! What’s so bad about that.” “Everything,” Clint deadpanned.Peter wanted to work on a new web fluid, one that would conduct electricity. It’d be useful for fixing wiring, shocking, ect. He’d come up with a formula, ironically, in biology. All his classes were far too easy for him, despite them being the highest honor classes the school offers. Tony is considering sending him to MIT next year rather than waiting out his high school years, not that he shared his thoughts with Peter.Peter was so caught up in his work he didn’t hear Tony come in. “So focused, huh?” Peter jumped. “Hey,” he smiled. “Don’t you have spider sense of something?” “Leave me alone,” he fake pouted. “What are you working on?” “Electro conducting web fluid. Unfortunately the new version seems to lower the strength, though.” He said, showing the results of the test he’d just finished conducting. “Impressive, you could introduce an iodiant element to introduce strength without interfering with the conductivity?” Tony suggested, looking over the data. “Oh good idea,” Peter said, pulling up the element to introduce into his formula on the virtual creation. “You know why I really came down here?” “To annoy me,” I said, smiling. “The field trip.” “I swear, I don’t care. It’s going to be lame anyways.” “You were talking about how excited you were for this trip last week,” Tony said bluntly. “Please leave it. Just, I-i’ll be fine.” “Come on, you're asking me, Tony Stark, to leave it?” “Yes. For me,” Peter batted his eyelids. “Fine,” Tony gave in, “You swear you're okay?” “Swear.” “He’s really got you wrapped around his pinky finger,” Harley Keener, resident prankster, genius, and boyfriend of Peter, said. “Oh don’t pretend he hasn’t got you too,” Tony said, getting ready to leave, “Your classes finish early Potato Gun?” “Yeah. Figure I’d come and see the one and only,” he said, gesturing at Peter. “I’ll leave you two to it,” tony said, leaving, “Don’t fuck in the lab again!” Peter blushed and Harley laughed. “Again?” Peter mumbled, “How did he know?” “Friday gave us up for sure,” Harley smiled, kissing his boyfriend. “How are ya darlin’? Nat told me about the trip.” “Yeah, it’s alright. At least I get the day off.” “I suppose. You gunna keep workin on those?” “Yeah, Mr. Stark just gave me a good idea.” “Hmn, yeah, I wanna finish up Clint’s new arrows before he murders me.” Peter laughed, “Yeah you should do.”Friday Peter got a nice sleep in. He woke around ten, but, too comfortable in his boyfriend’s arms, he didn’t move until half past 10. He slipped out of his room, allowing Harls to sleep in more. His boyfriend was sleep deprived far too often. He quickly got ready for the day, wanting to look and smell alright. He headed straight for the kitchen after, needing some coffee and breakfast before getting any real work done. In the Avenger household, between Harley, Peter, Mr. Stark, Banner, and

Pepper, the coffee pot was always full. Peter kinda fancied some of the pastries from the coffee shop in the lobby, so, after chugging his cup of coffee, he headed downstairs.He was met with a not so nice surprise upon walking into the lobby. There was his class. How could he be so stupid. Of course the field trip was here, that’s why they didn’t want me on it. He should have just asked one of the many Avengers in the tower to grab it for him. Bucky would’ve. “Peter! Peter Parker!” yelled his teacher yelled. Shit. Peter tried to ignore him, heading straight for the coffee shop. Surely the teacher would think he made a mistake. “Hey Ellise! Didn’t know you were working today?” “Extra shift,” she smiled, “How’s everything going?” “Pretty badly, could I get an express on my normal?” “Anything for my loyal customer,” she joked. “Thanks,” he said, moving over to wait for his drink and food. To his dismay, Ms. Giles came up right behind him as he waited for his order. “Peter Parker, you were not allowed on this field trip! You were banned. It is totally inappropriate for you to show up here!” “I-i.” he had nothing. “Go home. You're guardians and the principal will be hearing about this.” “Uhmn-” he honestly didn't know what to say, “Right yeah, I’ll go home.” “Parker, your coffee’s up with your pastry!” El yelled. “Uh thanks,” he said, grabbing it and heading for the lift. “SECURITY! This student is trying to enter the building!” for fucks sake Ms. Giles. Peter was so so done. One of the guards came over, “hello, what seems to be happening here?” “One of my students, who was banned from the field trip, decided to come here as a joke or something, and he is now trying to go upstairs? He also got himself a coffee without paying,” she explained calmly. “Kid, this is a very serio-” “I work here,” Peter said in a low voice, “that’s why I’m here. Just needed a coffee before I started working.” “How old are you?” “Sixteen.” “We do not hire people under 18, I need the truth. This is a truly punishable offence.” “Let me show you my badge!” he said, fishing it out from his pocket. “Oh god, I am so sorry Mr. Parker. I hadn’t realized. Please continue on.” “No need to apologize, you were just doing your job. Thanks, I’ll be off then,” Peter said with a smile. “Peter Parker I don’t kno-” “Please return to your tour. It should be starting soon. Mr. Parker is free to do as he pleases in this building,” the security guard assured. Peter shot him a smile before getting in the lift.“Hey babe,” Peter said, spotting his boyfriend in the kitchen, “Guess where the field trip is to?” “No!” Keener yelled, laughing, “It’s here!” “Yep, and they all saw me in the lobby-” he launched into a detailed recount of the events that just occurred in the lobby. “God your life, darlin’” “I know, I bet Mr. Stark knew all along.” “Ha! That'd be just like him, getting back at you for some of those pranks.” “Innit.” “You still heading down to the inter labs? I know people down there need your help.” “I think I’m going to avoid it. I want to keep working on the sizing down of the arc reactor for my department’s new project.” Peter currently ran one of the three R&D labs. They were currently doing work on the arc reactor. Sometimes, Peter worked among them, giving advice and handing out assignments, but most times he stuck to doing the work in his own lab. He was technically their boss, and he and his team got the work in on time, so it didn’t bother Stark. “Stark gives you too much work. It’s so dumb you have your own department.” “Jealous baby?” “Fuck no, we all know I’m CEO next,” Harley smirked. “Yes, yes you are.” Harley was much more business than he was. Peter was so much better at the R&D. He’d end up being some big important role in the company - likely second in charge, but he’d always be running the research in some capacity. “Well that’s unless Bucky and Stark finally decided to have a little tot,” Peter joked. “I’ll still be top. They love me most,” Harley said, fake flipping his hair. “What’s this about us having a kid and loving Harls most?” Tony

said, “Well, I was simply explaining that you love me most and that's why I’m CEO next.” “Hell no, Pep made that strange decision.” “Well, I said yours and Bucky’s kid was getting it all.” “Hell no! Our kids are staying away from all this shit,” Bucky smiled. “Our kids?” “Yeah,” Buck said, like it was the most obvious thing ever. “God I love you,” Tony said. “Ewwwww,” Both the boys squealed. “Shut up,” Tony threw at them, “Don’t you have a department to run and classes to attend?” “No classes till 3,” Harley explained. “Yes, just don’t want my class to see me down there.” “Your class?” Bucky questioned. “Yeah, it turns out this year's field trip was to my house,” Peter joked. “Don’t let them stop you from doing your work,” Stark said, seriously, “It’s a big tower, it’s very unlikely they’ll be anywhere near your lab. Plus, I need your third term report on Project ZX89.” “Yeah. The team and I are almost done with it. I’ll pull an all nighter and have it to you by Friday.” “Okay so-” Stark began. “No you will not, Peter,” Bucky stepped on, “If you can’t handle the department and a normal sleeping schedule, we need to talk about it.” “Buck, it’s one night. Plus, we’re so near to finishing with the models. Fourth terms will be literally production,” Peter explained. “I give up. He’s yours,” Bucky exclaimed. “Relax, it’s one night as the kid said. By the way, Friday at the latest.” “Yep. It’ll be with you.” “Keener, Pep told me she wants you by her today as you have no class. Friday sent her your schedule.” “Bu-” “Go Mr. Future CEO.” “Fine, see ya. Bye Darling,” Harley said, placing a kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. “I’ll come with. I do have to get that work done.” “Okay,” Harley replied, interlocking their hands. “Bye,” they both called. The two overachieving kids fit perfectly into each other’s lives.“Wish me luck,” Peter said, stepping into his department. “Good luck. Hope your class comes in here and sees you bein an epic boss.” “I hate you.” The lift closed, and he went straight to his computer to start reading over the current progress. He began to compile the work that Stark wanted. He sent off a couple emails asking for data and previous models. This report, in truth, was going to take him at least 12 hours to make. He also needed to do some physical work on the prototype with some of the scientists working under him. After sending requests for all the info he’d need for the report, he went into the lab, greeting his team. He fit right in as they continued to make the final adjustments on the mini-arc reactor. Two hours later, they were done with the third quarter work. They agreed to celebrate this weekend with some drinks in the lab.Peter luck showed up, and his class arrived in his department. Peter ran and checked his schedule, there was nothing about talking to a class about his research as he’d done before. “Peter, Pepper would like to inform you that there was a mistake in your calendar. You will be talking to a tour in five about your research. She apologies for any inconvenience.” “Hi fri, tell her it's fine. I got this.” “Yes baby boss.” He promptly met the class in one of the two conference rooms on that floor. It was almost entirely a lab. “Hello class, I am the head of this department, so I shall be telling you about it,” Peter said. “Funny joke Peter, please stop distributing this tour,” Ms. Giles said. “I’m going to ignore that comment. So, I am aware you’ve all been given a brief tour of the level, but I am here to answer any questions you may have.” The class was silent and confused. “Anything at all? Ok, I guess I’ll just tell you more about the work I do with my team…” he blabbered on about the work, what it was like working here, the best and worst parts, ect.The tour was ready to leave, and Peter was glad. He had work to do.To say Monday was an interesting day would be an understatement.

Read and save it on A03 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/33120742

#peter parker field trip #irondad #tony stark #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #harley keener #irondad and spiderson #ironfam #avengers fanfic #basically peter being unofficially adopted by the avengers lol

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jay-and-dean · 5 years ago

Text

I don’t need you Chapter 1 : Damsel in distress.

Dean x reader

Summary : She’s a warrior, she’s a loner. Nothing can stop her, nothing ever had. She doesn’t need Dean, does she ?

This is a request by @magssteenkamp that I decided to turn to a serie :

“Okay, how about a Dean x Reader that is a tomboy badass Hunter think Selene from Underworld without being a vampire. That has Dean off his game because she’s not someone he can save she’s not the damsel in distress. She could have become a hunter because vampires, killed her family and now she gets a little scary when she’s up against them fluttering Dean and turning him on… Of course, smut must be in this story you write it so well. Now, go make Dean sweat, every time he sees her drinking whiskey neat like it’s nothing. Can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

Serie Warnings : Swearing (duh). Mention of death. Smut, probably all kind from rough to fluffy, I’ll precise in the chapters if there are specific warnings. Fluff. Angst of course.

Words : 3.2k

Note : I have no idea how many chapters it will be yet because I have 2 possible endings in mind. One version is like 3 chapters, the other is like 10 chapters, haha. I guess it depends if you guys like it.

I’ll try to stick to the 3k rule, like for Rescue You

If everything goes as planned, you’ll get one chapter every wednesday.

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

_________________

Dean’s Pov

City isn’t my favorite playground. I’m used to shitty little motels in shitty little towns. I’m used to silence and forests, at least for hunts.

And above all, I’m used to night being night. Those lights are killing me and I can’t get rest.

My hand on my stomach, watching the ceiling, I try to ignore the woman screaming lame pornographic sounds in the room above us. Judging by how much she fakes it, I think the guy with her is really not good.

Will those sirens stop at some point ?

Even if we hunted in big cities before, we rarely had to stay in the center of it for long. I miss the bunker, I miss home, and I miss baby. Parking her here is nearly impossible, and pretty dangerous for her, so we left her alone and we take the damn bus.

I hate the bus. Obviously.

This hunt is a mess. And as everything in this city, it’s too big. For four weeks now, we have been following a lead and it just feels like it’s never ending.

Is it possible that vampires are organized in an authentic mafia here ?

How Sam and I are supposed to fight it ? Those fuckers recruit and abduct young people… Two hundred and sixty eight teens have been declared missing in what, three or four months ? Even Sam is out of his depth.

The woman stops screaming and I close my eyes in relief. I try to think of the last time I had fun with a woman, a few weeks ago… Now it feels like ages.

Sam is sleeping and I just wish I could do the same, but this stupid window has no curtain, and it’s bright like the middle of the afternoon out there.

We found a hunter bar, finally, and asked for help. We need someone who knows this place. But the bar was mostly empty, and that doesn’t look good. I remember the barman’s face when we asked for some name, a phone number, anything… for someone that could help us. He chuckled, and sais he knew someone, the best ; he said we could find that hunter at some subway station tomorrow night.

So we wait.

*******

Freaking subway. Dark and smelly. Sam is leaning on the tiles, waiting for someone to show. I don’t even dare touching those walls, hands in the pockets of my jeans, I look at the steam coming out of my mouth, my head low in my shoulders, trying to ignore the cold.

“This is stupid” I sigh. “We don’t even have a name, a description, anything.”

“The barman said we’ll know Dean, be patient” my brother mumbles, looking at every person passing by like a weirdo.

“Patient ! One hour, Sammy ! And this music !”

A group of young people are listening to very shitty music there, laughing like hyenas, and I am about to lose it.

Suddenly, their behavior change, and they start to whistle, pointing at a young lady coming down the stairs. She’s wearing a long coat with a large hood on her head, hiding most of her face, and she’s looking for something in her purse, cursing and hurrying, clearly late to go somewhere.

When she barely watch where she goes and almost miss the last step, my back straightens. She looks clumsy and really not careful, I’m afraid the little morons will bother her.

“Hey kitten !” they call her. “Kitty kitty kitty…”

I look at Sam and he gets ready to fight.

Fucking city.

“Hey ! Leave her alone !” I say and the boys laugh at me, grabbing the woman by the arm.

We were here for vampires, but a damsel in distress needs us, so Sam and I start to walk toward the young people. The music is loud, some electro shit, and I can’t wait to break their speaker.

When the boys who had grabbed the woman’s arm tugs at it, she suddenly turns on herself in one smooth but swift movement, leaving him with just the coat in his hand.

This goes so fast I’m barely registering what’s happening. The lady is wearing clothes that makes my brain go blank for a second : very skinny jeans with freaking thigh holsters holding guns, and a tight black corset.

Who is that woman ?

Grabbing her coat with snake speed, she throws it at the boy’s head and hit his knee so hard it bends in the wrong way.

Sam stops walking, frozen in place. And I bet he’s like me… asking himself who needs help after all.

She grabs a gun at her thigh and shoots one of the boys right in the head, the silencer barely preventing the echo making us all jump in surprise.

“Wh-…” I start but the young men shows their teeth and I realize they have been the vampire all along.

One of them manage to hit her face, and before Sam or I can move, she hits him back, making him stumble back. He has no time to move before she reaches the thin machete she was hiding in her back and makes his head roll on the floor, falling on the railroad.

With a few more quick an expert movements, she kills all of them, except a coward, who tries running for his life in our direction, the exit direction.

I stop him with my fist in his stomach and he falls on the floor.

“Wait !” the woman says. “Leave him alive.”

She walks toward us, her hips swaying and blood all over her perfect cleavage. I’m fascinated, and I must admit to myself, even if I wouldn’t say it out loud, even to Sam : a little horny… What the fuck is happening here ?

She squats and grabs his dirty hair to make him look up at her.

“I will need to talk to your boss” she says.

“He will tear you to pieces, bitch !”

She punches him.

“We’ll see, bitch” she answers and the boy starts to whine, now looking mostly pathetic.

“Please, don’t kill me, I can give you money, I… I can give you eternal life… Or drugs ? You want drugs ?”

She sighs.

“Let be clear, Jimmy…” she says and his eyes widen.

“How do you know my name !”

“I know everything about you little shit, and about your nest… About Holloway. Now where can I find him ?” she states, hitting the vampire’s head on the floor.

“If I tell you…” he answers in a pitiful whine. “He will find me, he will kill me.”

She points the bloody machete on his neck, and starts to dig it slowly in his skin, making him cry out in pain.

“The club !” he screams. “The H club ! I-it is his club, but you won’t be able to enter ! Only vampires can enter !”

“Only vampires ?” she smirks, making my blood run both cold and boiling at how fierce she looks. “Good, Jimmy, you just earn a day of life. Get up, little shit. You follow me without saying a word, and you might live a little more.”

She gets up and harshly tie his arms behind his back.

“Winchesters ?” she asks, and it takes a few seconds before Sam and I answer, still stunned by how impressive she is.

“Y-yeah…” I stammer.

“Winchesters… Seriously…” the vampire sighs, but we all ignore him.

“Joe said you were looking for me” she looks behind her at the mess of corpses and blood. “You still want to help with this ?”

Sam nods, I’m too caught up in her aura.

“Okay, hold this fucker while I burn this mess.”

And she does ! With a flask from her purse, she stands before the bodies and say some incantation before she puts a few drops of that weird golden liquid on the corpses. The second she does, body after body –or body parts-, they turn to ashes suddenly, leaving no sign of the slaughter that happened here.

She grabs her heavy coat and dusts it.

“Y-you sure know how to get rid of a body !” Sam says, his eyes widened.

We totally need that.

“Yeah, so don’t piss me off” she gives us a corner, grabbing Jimmy by the arm to walk to the exit, putting her coat back on.

Sam and I look at each other in disbelief, before we follow her like puppies, reaching the street. We jog to join her and I search her face before I speak.

“We never told the barman who we were, how do you know ?” I ask following her quick steps.

“I’m not reckless, Dean” she says. “And I’m not stupid. When he described the two men looking for me, I thought most hunters would have given up, so with the grumpy, flannel, big guys especially the one with longer hair description, I checked the city cameras for a 67 Impala, and I was right.”

“You’re good” Sam states, impressed.

“I heard you’re too” she chuckles, her smile knocking my heart out.

Reader’s Pov

“Taxi !” I call with my free hand in the air and the car stops.

“You’re going to take the… vampire… in a cab ?” Sam worries, his voice low, like someone was paying attention to us, but no one is.

“Well, I have to bring him home” I just say.

What can I had, honestly, walking the streets with monsters at my arm has become a habit of mine.

When we sit on the backseat, I get my gun and dig it in Jimmy’s ribs through my coat, until I hear him whine in pain. I keep my eyes on him, threatening eyes.

Jimmy Jimmy… I looked for you everywhere for a few months. And I’m not disappointed in you. Son of a middle class dentist, afraid of death since childhood, seen a shrink for four years because of that, hypochondriac, anxious… Turned into a vampire at seventeen in 1984, the perfect cure of this fear of dying : immortality.

I knew how bad you wanted to live little shit, I knew I could get you to talk. Anything but dying right ? Because, as you told Dr Stenvens in 1980 : “Dying is forever.”

*******

“Welcome to my place” I say, opening the creaking door of my apartment.

I know they will probably pity me, I heard they live in a gorgeous military base or whatever, but I love my home.

I had to kill to get this big apartment, literally kill. Monsters of course, but still. It’s a little dilapidated and the lights go off each time the train passes near, but I have big windows, and almost no rats.

I push the empty bottle of whiskey with my feet and grab the chair to put Jimmy on it, and tie him tight.

The hunter brothers enter and I must say I’m a little impressed to have them here, even if I will never admit it.

“Beer ?” I offer and they nod, looking at my psycho walls, as I call them : covered in photos and notes, pieces of journals and red lines of felt pen everywhere on it.

Of course I have everything in my laptop, but this helps to think. And as no one but Joe comes to my place, I don’t really care how creepy it looks.

“You’re a psycho !” Jimmy says and I chuckle.

Yeah… Like I said, psycho walls.

“You’re… organized” Sam says and I turn to look at him. Jesus, that man is tall !

“So you were working the young vampires nest case ?” I ask, handing them the bottles, but they don’t move, frowning in Jimmy’s direction. “You can sit, the little shit isn’t going anywhere, this creaky wooden chair is warded.”

“Ward-… Okay” Dean stammers, sitting on the couch.

It’s really weird, meeting people you know somehow. Those guys are legends, and there are even books about them, books I each read a few times, learning a lot about hunting, but mostly learning about them. About Dean’s fear of failing his family, about Sam’s need to fail them to survive.

There was a time I used to cling to those books at night, trying to imagine they were real, and they could protect me… Until I found out they were but I was the only one that was going to take care of me.

I can’t deny I used to have a teen crush on Dean, when those silly things still interested me. He was the big-hearted bad boy my 14 years old self needed to survive the street.

Then nothing. The books stopped, I was worried the story just ended like that. And I had to move on from it, someone stealing my all stuffs, including the books, made it quicker than I thought.

Of course, I heard the stories later… Things about Purgatory, about Dean being a Demon, then not, about their mother being back at all… But it’s not the same, and I always wondered what my childhood heroes had become, What they looked like now….

“Who are you ?” Dean finally says with a voice so low I can’t help but bite my cheek a little, to avoid smiling like teen-me would have.

I’m not a teen anymore, and I don’t need heroes to help me through the night.

“Y/n” I say. “I’m on this case too.”

“You’re a hunter ?” Sam asks and I search his face, looking for the hint of hope you can find on a rebel’s eyes, but it’s gone. What happened to you ?

“I’m hungry !” Jimmy whines and I ignore him.

“Not really…” I sigh, sipping at my beer. “I mean, yes, but, I have only been working one case, so…”

“This case” Dean states, nodding for himself with a glance at the walls.

“Yeah… This case. Holloway is not easy to get, and the more I get close, the more he widens his army, so the… the missing, they’re a little on me.”

“No, no they’re not” Sam says right away with those kind eyes, just like I always imagined it.

But he won’t get this idea out of my head easily. Joe says it too, that it’s not on me. And, I know, I mean, I know that the killings are not originally on me… But this has become a war, and wars makes victims.

“Anyway, I can’t stop now” I sigh, getting up to wash my hands, I just noticed how bloody they were.

The truth is, I never could stop. From day one. The day those vamps tracked us after school, and took Amy and Beth, the day I managed to escape and talked to my parents. My friends were found a few days later, beaten, drained of blood, in a ditch somewhere. We were only thirteen, they were my best friends, and we had so much plans for the future…

I gave too much information, on the boys’ look, on what they were saying, wearing, and my parents supported me when cops wanted to close the file. I know now that this network have some cops with them.

So they killed them, my parents. That one night, they killed everybody and tried to kill me too, but Holloway wanted me for himself. That’s his big move : killing little girls, pretty teens, I can’t even imagine what he does to them…

But on the way to my death, I escaped again. At this instant was already too late, I far too far gone in Hell… Too late for normal, too late for letting go.

“What is your plan ?” Sam asks a little lower, like he was afraid of what Jimmy could hear.

“I go to this club” I state, coming back to sit opposite of them.

“Hellooo ! I’m still hungry !” the little shit whines making all three of us roll our eyes without answering.

“They only let vampires in” Dean frowns, sitting on the verge of the couch to search my face.

I didn’t imagined him exactly like that when I read the books. His hair are darker, his jaw is sharper, his eyes are not this ridiculous mint green, but a profound summer forest color. He must be what ? Forty now ?

“I’ll be one” I shrug.

“What !” the brothers gasp in sync.

“Not forever, don’t worry. I have the cure, and we will need the blood of the vampire that turned me, good thing he’s tied up in my apartment” I give them a corner smile.

“No way !” Dean grunts. “That’s insane.”

“Well, Winchester, I’ll do it with or without you…”

Dean’s Pov

This woman has lost her mind. A sharp mind, yes, but she lost it. I stare at her and can’t find an ounce of fear on her pretty bloody face.

“I have been there, sweetheart, it’s really not a sinecure !”

The second I say it, I regret using this nickname. She will crush me for sure.

But she doesn’t. She smiles a little again, that confident corner smile of hers, the only thing that keeps my mind away from that freaking corset, and the blood stains on her cleavage.

I have never met a girl like her, Hell, I have never met somebody like her, man or woman ! And behind those fierce eyes, I guess she must have suffered all kinds of Hell to be so strong today.

“Let’s say you let the vampire turn you” Sam whispers, glancing at Jimmy. “What makes you think you won’t feed on blood ? It’s a thirst you may not be able to resist. A-and… Once in the club, what then ?”

She looks down, resting her elbows on her knees.

“Then I find Holloway, kill him, and burn them all to the ground” she states absent-mindedly, putting her hand on her purse next to her.

That’s when I understand. This is not just a case, this could be a suicide mission, she doesn’t really care.

I do. I have no idea why I care so much, but I do.

“Please listen…” the vampire-douche starts but we all answer in sync.

“Shut up Jimmy !”

She chuckles lightly at our perfectly synchronized annoyance.

I’m mesmerized, a need burning my veins from the inside, something new. This is not desire like I have felt with pretty women before, this is not curiosity or interest… This is fascination. I want everything : to know her, see her, unravel her, touch her, hear her, taste her…

“Let us help” I say a little too seriously and too low, making her search my eyes with a frown.

“If you want to help, help” she finally states. “But this is my case, my rules, my way. If you intend to give me orders or talk me out of it, just go back to Kansas. I don’t need you.”

______________________

***FEEDBACK IS GOLD***

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#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural Dean Winchester #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x y/n #dean x reader #spn dean x reader #Smut #dean winchester smut #fluff #angst #SPN #spn fic #jay-and-dean

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momentofmemory · 5 years ago

Text

fictober - day nine

Prompt #9: “It has a certain taste.”

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe (Thor, Guardians of the Galaxy)

Warnings: Grief

Rating: T

Characters: Thor Odinson & Rocket Raccoon

Words: 1674

Author’s Note: set in the near vicinity (1-3 months) post endgame.

>>Snøsøte on the Mountains

The Milano was scheduled for planet departure in a little over forty earth minutes, and no one had seen Thor in six hours.

They’d landed on Krylor three days ago so that Rocket could make some much-needed repairs to the ship—Krylorians were famous for their psionic-guided engines and other advancements in interstellar flight—and Rocket was convinced he could use his reputation as “savior of the universe” to schmooze as much free tech out of them as possible. In his defense, it had been going stunningly well until Drax accidentally offended half the local government being, well, Drax.

The need to leave on time had increased significantly after that.

Rocket sat in the copilot’s chair, inspecting the hyper-wave bomb he’d lifted off the security guard that’d escorted him out.

“Rocket.”

He vaguely registered Quill’s voice, but decided it probably wasn’t important. Instead, he turned the bomb around until his claws found the seam. He huffed in triumph, then flipped it upside down and pried off the base.

It immediately lit up and started beeping.

“Mother of—”

Rocket chucked it at Drax, but it bounced harmlessly off his head and rolled to the floor. It glowed briefly, then powered down.

Drax didn’t even wake up.

“Huh.” Rocket crawled out of his chair and snatched up the orb. He bet he could reverse engineer the power core with some of those lame lithium-ion batteries he’d stolen from Rhodey last week.

“Rocket!”

He winced and flattened his ears back against his head. “Geez, what, Quill? You trying to wake up the whole sector?”

“If that’s what it takes to get your attention, then yes.” Quill closed the map he’d been looking at and walked to the front of the ship, stopping in front of Rocket. “Thor still hasn’t shown up, and he isn’t answering his comm.”

Rocket poked at one of the wires and was immediately shocked for his efforts. He swore and shook his hand vigorously, glaring up at Quill. “Yeah, and?”

“And I’d like to leave this planet in one piece, which means on time. We’re not exactly on the hottest terms with the locals.”

Rocket frowned. “I’m sorry, I seem to remember that being Drax’s fault. I don’t see you asking him about electro boy.”

“That’s because Drax is an idiot.”

Rocket snorted and tried to slip past. “Guess that explains why you’re not doing it yourself, either.”

“Rocket.”

“He’s a big guy! He can take care of himself.”

“He is sad.”

Both Quill and Rocket turned as Mantis appeared in the doorway. “I do not know what is wrong.”

Quill gave Rocket his best I told you so look and Rocket crossed his arms over his chest. “I still don’t see why that means I have to go get him.”

Groot, who hadn’t even bothered to look up from his console the entire trip, chose that moment to stare at Rocket with his obnoxiously sincere eyes. “I am Groot?”

Rocket deflated and tossed the grenade at Quill, who yelped and dropped the datapad he’d been holding to catch it. “Use this if things go south before I get back.”

Groot smirked. “I am Groot.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it,” Rocket said, taking the datapad for himself. He sighed. “I’m the captain.”

_________________________

Krylorians are deathly allergic to all forms of alcohol, so that ruled out the normal kinds of places the Asgardian would frequent. Fortunately for Rocket, however, the Milano’s energy sensors are one system he’d managed to get updated before Drax blew his street cred. He tapped in a few commands and the system recalibrates to perform a city-wide search for the weird, low-grade electricity signature Thor always seemed to give off.

The wavelength was nowhere to be found in the city, but widening it to include the nearby geography quickly solved the problem.

“Hey Quill,” he said into his comm as he grabbed a jetpack from the Milano’s storage, “How long do you think you can delay that take off for?”

“How long do you like living?”

Rocket didn’t bother responding. Quill was an idiot, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t good at bullshitting excuses.

He exited the Milano and flew to the outskirts of town, keeping an eye on the map. It took him twenty minutes to approach the location, mostly because of the rain, and Thor’s marker didn’t move the entire time.

He knew Thor got moody around the anniversary of the snap—who didn’t—but that was reversed now and anyway, that date wasn’t for another three months.

He finally found the Asgardian sitting on the edge of a rocky outcrop, his legs hanging down and hands folded in his lap, looking out over the coastline. Rocket landed next to him, rain water soaking his fur and dripping onto the hard surface. Thor smiled in greeting.

“Rabbit!” The man spoke with the level of exuberance he reserved for when he was feeling truly miserable. “How goes your quest for the finest technology this side of the galaxy?”

“Not so great, actually,” Rocket said, hiding under one of the larger rocks and shaking off. "We kinda need you back at the ship.”

“…Ah.” Thor made no move to get up. “A shame, really.”

Rocket was still trying to de-clump his fur. “What? You got something against being dry?”

“No.” A chuckle, likely at the expense of Rocket’s struggling. “But nothing against being wet, either.”

Rocket gave up and stepped back into the rain, and noticed Thor was rotating something between his fingers. “What’s that?”

Thor blinked in surprise and looked down, as if he himself had forgotten the item.

“This is Yggdrasil,” he said, carefully placing it in Rocket’s palm so the raccoon could get a better look at it. “The great tree of life, out of which Asgard was grown.”

Rocket turned the figure from side to side. It was small, barely bigger than his own paw, and felt like Terran marble. The trunk of the tree fused into the bottom of a cylindrical city ringed with mountains, and three branches curved up and around its base to form a domed top. In the center of the city rose the spire of a magnificent palace, and out of that, the rest of the tree: nine branches in all.

Rocket handed the carving back. “Asgard, huh?”

“Mm. It was the crown jewel of the Nine Realms.” Thor looked at the tree, then tucked it away in one of the pouches on his belt. “Home of the first root of Yggdrasil.”

“Seems fancy.” Rocket curled his tail under him and sat down beside Thor, though his legs weren’t quite long enough to hang off the edge. “They just called my planet Halfworld.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was a very whole planet in its own right. Not anywhere near as impressive as Asgard, but still.”

“No, that was literally its—look, nevermind, that isn’t the point.”

The planet’s sun was beginning to set, casting the sky into deep shades of green, blue, and purple—a sharp contrast to the pale yellow of the day.

Thor sighed. “This place reminds me of my home.”

“…You sure?”

Thor laughed and clapped Rocket on the back, nearly hurling him off the ledge in the process. “My apologies, Rabbit! I forget sometimes that you, too, have seen Asgard.” His countenance fell. “But it is not merely the geography that makes up a place.”

Rocket’s eyebrows knitted together and Thor smiled. “My father said that to me, right before Ragnarok.”

“A what rock?”

“It’ll be six years tomorrow, actually,” Thor said, continuing as if Rocket hadn’t spoken. “Six years since I had to destroy my homeworld.”

Thunder cracked in the distance and Rocket suddenly wondered if the rain wasn’t just by chance.

“There are much more important things to mourn, of course. Mostly people. Lots of those.” Thor shrugged. “Still.”

Rocket shifted. His fur was completely soaked through, and the sunset meant the temperature was dropping. Quill probably needed them back to the ship as soon as possible.

But he was the captain.

“You said this place reminds you of Asgard?”

Thor looked at him in surprise. “So it does.”

“Gotta say I can’t see it, but, you were there longer, so.” Rocket leaned back on his paws. “Explain it if you want.”

The smallest of smiles appeared on Thor’s face. He turned towards the violet-coloured sea, watching the waves crash into the coastline. “It’s true that the appearances aren’t very similar. I’m sure you’re correct about Krylo being technologically advanced, but stylistically they seem very lacking.”

“Harsh, but continue.”

Thor laughed, and took in a deep breath. “It’s not about the visuals at all, really. It’s in the way the air feels.”

Rocket frowned. “The… air.”

“Indeed, Rabbit.” He closed his eyes. “There’s a certain… taste to it, almost. Fresh and crisp. Metallic, though not badly. The barest touch of salt from the sea.”

“Sounds like you knew the place pretty well,” Rocket said, thinking of his own distorted memories. “Shame I didn’t get to see more of it.”

A hopeful look appeared in Thor’s eyes. He rose to his feet, offering a hand to Rocket. “Perhaps I could tell you more on our journey back?”

“Better than listening to Quill whine, so sure.” Rocket accepted the hand and climbed up onto the man’s shoulder. “What was this Asgard of yours like.”

Thor thought of the palace, its golden spire glistening in the moonlight, even as the heart of the city cast its own light from below. The churning waterfalls at the edge of the world he and Loki had explored as children, always with the careful eye of Heimdal guarding them. Sunlight streaming through the great, gilded archways that had been so lavishly sculpted as his people bustled through. Lignonberry jelly on toast, shaved salads with dulse at the evening náttverðr, his mother’s pönnukökur for breakfast. Snøsøte blooming in the mountains, its rich, deep-blue petals stark against the fresh white snow.

Thor smiled, and twirling his hammer, launched both of them into the air.

“It was beautiful.”

#fictober19 #tw:grief #thor odinson #rocket raccoon #mcu fanfic #thor fic #fanfiction #yes that really is the name of rocket's homeworld #memsfic

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snarky-badger · 6 years ago

Note

Prompt: Reader has a shitty relationship with reality. Weird crap happens to them and things that shouldn’t happen do. Sometimes they will go missing out of the blue do it it and just show up a couple weeks later. They usually carry around a recorder with them so they can show people they aren’t insane but they forget it and go missing for a bit before coming back. Eddie/Venom FREAK the fuck out.

This is my second attempt at this, as tumblr deleted the first draft I wrote! Grr. Still, it was fun to write! Kinda more Eddie and less Venom.

Your life was weird. Which was to say, you and reality had apparently met and broken up with no chance at reconciliation.

It had started when you were eight. Now, keep in mind, you’d been born in the eighties, so it was high weirdness to suddenly be in possession of a computer the size of your hand.

You’d been playing when something had just popped out of nowhere, bouncing off your head before clattering to the ground. A little dazed, you’d picked it up and discovered that it was something called an iPhone 8. You’d played with it for hours before it had simply vanished out of your hands, leaving an odd chill and a very baffled you behind.

Things had only gotten more complicated from there.

More things appeared and vanished around you, sometimes little things, like keys or books, sometimes big things, like your parent’s minivan.

When you were twelve, you’d vanished from school. Literally. Your parents had gone insane. Search parties were sent out, Amber Alert’s announced, police canvased the entire neighbourhood. When you’d reappeared a week later, your parents had ignored your tale of meeting Robin Hood and grounded you for running away and making up stories.

Your childhood and adolescence was peppered with disappearances, your parents believing that you were a liar and a runaway, and you had suffered through numerous trips to various hospitals because of the ‘tales’ you told.

You’d started bringing a tape recorder with you to film your adventures when you were fourteen. Over time, you upgraded to camcorder, then your smartphone, and finally a hidden camera that you could bring wherever you ended up. You had images and videos saved that surpassed any CG movie out there.

It was odd, you realized, that when you ‘popped’ into new worlds, that no one there thought twice of your sudden appearance. You just blended in with whatever timeline or universe you’d slid into, as if you were supposed to be there in the first place. You’d seen dinosaurs, broke bread with dragon-slayers, saved dragons from dragon-slayers, visited far off worlds and even alternate universes just a smidgen different from your own.

It continued on until you were old enough to move out. Sure, you still vanished from time to time, visiting odd and strange places, but it was fun for you. New experiences and new adventures. The hell with your doubting parents. This was your life and you embraced it.

You’d been chased by a feathered T-Rex, nearly gotten run over by a horse drawn carriage that belonged to Sherlock Holmes - the older one not the hot one - shared mead with Hobbits, gunned down zombies, met aliens - not the probing kind - gotten bitten by a chupacabra, encountered a rather irritated Dalek that had also popped out of his universe, hell, you’d even met Captian Picard of the USS Enterprise!

Things became more complicated when you started dating.You’d originally sworn off dating because of the trouble presented when you slipped out of your universe, but Eddie Brock had been sweet and handsome and with a sparkling wit and down to earth charm that had made turning him down impossible.

You imagined he’d expected you to freak out when, a month into dating, he’d confided in you that he was bonded to an alien symbiote and that he moonlighted as Venom most nights.

You’d seen a lot of weird shit by then, so you’d merely shrugged, shaken Venom’s hand and asked him what he preferred white or dark chocolate cake.

When Eddie had moved in, things got decidedly complicated. You managed to explain your disappearances by saying it was work related, that you had to run off at any time to catch a plane or a train. Thanks to being a veteran of falling out of your dimension into another, you could usually ‘feel’ a slip before it happened.

He’d accepted it with grace - after all, he was Venom. He thought he knew strange.

You were waffling over whether to tell him what was really going on. Had practiced the conversation. Were even willing to let him see what was in the mystically locked chest at the foot of your bed.

It was filled with keepsakes from your journeys: A sword made of enchanted glass from Skyrim, a computer pad you’d stolen from the Enterprise, bits of shells from a dinosaur egg, the Hope Diamond, a Venom comic-book - that was going to take some explanation - an ‘Arum’ from the Elite home world from the Halo universe, a pile of gems and coins from Smaug himself - you’d popped out of that world before getting charbroiled - a feather as long as your arm from a Roc, a working phaser, three seashells, several sets of armor and ancient clothing, a Lightsaber you’d stolen from one baffled Anakin Skywalker before he’d gone batty, and an emerald the size of your fist - you hoped Sonic had made due without it.

You’d actually been trying to work up the nerve to talk to Eddie after a date, on the walk home, when you’d literally popped out of existence.

Shit.

You reappeared in the middle of a fight between a rag tag group of people and something called a ‘dracolich’. Which was a fancy word for ‘skeleton dragon’.

By then, you were rather used to appearing in the middle of a crisis, so you’d taken up a sword and joined the fight. By the time the undead dragon was properly dead - thanks to one of the group that had turned out to be a necromancer - you’d pretty much ingratiated yourself to the group, and no one questioned where you’d appeared from.

You spent a month with them, fulfilling quests, getting drunk at taverns, and being rewarded by kings and peasants both. You had enough gold coins to pay for your apartment for the next fifty years. Your new friends, the necromancer, a draconian, an archer and a sorceress made you the honorary ‘knight’ of the group, even chipping in to buy you a set of armor tailored to you.

It was while your friends were at a brothel - you may have been in a different universe but you did have a boyfriend back home, hence the ‘no brothel’ rule for you - that things went sideways again. You popped, appearing in the middle of a conference at the UN where there were lizards instead of people, waved, then popped again, reappearing in San Francisco.

This wouldn’t have been such a bad thing had you not been decked out in full armor, armed with numerous knives and a broadsword. The fact that you’d appeared in the middle of a wedding just made things more complicated.

You managed to weave a spiel about trying out your ‘costume’ for the next Comic Con before making a run for it.

Hoping that Eddie was still around somewhere, you trudged home, incurring various stunned looks as you went. Ignored them with long practice, even when you got on the elevator and had to ride to the top floor next to a women with two children.

Lacking a key, you merely kicked your front door in, freezing in the doorway when you spotted a very confused Eddie on your couch. He was obviously in the middle of working on a new article - papers and notebooks were scattered around him haphazardly.

“Um…. hi?” You even wiggled your fingers at him in a little wave, armor glinting in the light from the windows.

Everything went flying - laptop included, ouch - when he realized who you were. He crossed the apartment in a run before wrapping you up in a crushing embrace.

“You’re alive!”

The stark relief in his voice made you wither a little, and you lamely stayed silent, blinking up at him when he pushed you back and held you at arms length.

“Where have you been?! We searched the entire City for you! Twice! Thought you’d been kidnapped or worse–”

You rose a hand to place your fingers against his mouth when his voice cracked, the tears in his eyes making a pit open up in your stomach. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have told you. This just…. happens, sometimes. Well, a lot of the time. I can’t control it. Usually I can feel it before it happens, but this time I didn’t have any warning and–”

“This has happened before?”

You winced a little and pulled away, walking past him and into the apartment. Waited until he’d closed the door before speaking again. “Weird things have been happening to me since I was eight. Things would pop in and out of existence around me, things that we’re from my time or our world. They’d always vanish again eventually…. When I was twelve I vanished for a week, met Robin Hood, he taught me how to shoot a bow–”

The look of disbelief on Eddie’s face made you growl. “See that? That right there. That’s why I don’t tell people. My parents had me admitted to psych wards because I trusted them. You know what electro-shock therapy is? It ain’t fun! But this shit happens to me, all the time. And you, Venom, are not the poster child for normality, so quit lookin’ at me like that!”

He winced at bit at that, then sighed and walked over to you. “Okay. Okay, we’re sorry, this just sounds….”

“Insane. I’m aware. I’m also aware that since aliens exist and that there are mutants running around and a guy in New York called ‘Spider-Man’, that this isn’t the weirdest thing in this reality.”

“Point.”

“Damn right ‘point’,” you muttered angrily, huffing as you headed for your bedroom. “There’s also the fact that I’m not stupid enough to say these things without some goddamn proof. So, c’mere.”

Grumbling a little, you stomped over to the locked chest at the foot of your bed, shoving clothes off of it before raising your thumb to your mouth and biting into the meat of it. Eddie made a noise of complaint at the sight, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Needs blood given without duress to open,” you explained as you pressed your thumb to the lock, grinning at his look of shock when the combination lock spun crazily, five numbers clicking into place before the three heavy latches popped open. “Got this thing from a wizard when I turned twenty. Best security I ever invested in.”

The flabbergasted look on Eddie’s face was almost worth it when you started pulling things out and laying them on the bed, explaining what each and every one of them were and where you’d gotten them from. His eyes got bigger and bigger with every keepsake you pulled out, right up until you pulled out the Venom comic and thrust it into his face.

“Bet you were wondering why I was so chill when you told me about the symbiote, huh? I already knew about it.”

“This can’t be real,” left him in a whisper as he took the comic and flipped through it. The symbiote that was masquerading as his shirt visibly undulated, a tendril extending to poke at the comic, as if to make sure it wasn’t a hallucination.

“Oh, it is real buster. There’s a reality where practically every weird ass thing in this world is just a bunch of stories. Spider-Man, Magneto, Wolverine, fuck, the entire X-Men School - comic-books. Every single one. There’s a universe where Batman is real, another where the galaxy nearly got it’s metaphorical balls handed to it by monstrosities called ‘Reapers’, another where crab-people try to overthrow governments. Trust me, I have seen some weird shit.“

“You never told anyone?”

“The people I did tell had me committed,” you reminded him. “I learned to keep this kinda shit to myself. I wanted to tell you. I did. But…. Well, the amount of people who have flipped out on me and left is kinda a hundred percent. I have videos, and they still didn’t believe me.”

Eddie shook his head a little, still looking stunned. “We believe you. It’s impossible not to. We’re holding the story of our own history in our hands.”

“Sorry about that. Kinda had to go for the shock value.” You paused, hesitant. “You really believe me?”

The wary hope in your voice made him walk over to you and wrap you up in a hug, leaning his forehead against yours. “You’re very convincing.”

“And the symbiote?”

“Glad to have our morsel back.” Eddie blinked a little, then cleared his throat as the symbiote released control of his voice. “We’re relieved you’re alright. We mourned you. We’ve spent the past month trying to find you.”

“This’ll happen again,” you warned him softly. “I can’t control it. I wish I could, but I can’t. And I don’t have control about how long I stay away. Could be a week, could be a month….”

“But you’ll come back? Eventually?”

“Always do.”

“Promise to come home to us?”

You smiled. “Hun, if you can put up with the insanity that is my life, you’re practically stuck with me.”

“Good,” he murmured before kissing you, and you shivered happily as you kissed him back. “Now, show us how that Lightsaber works.”

#snarky is writing #filled prompt #venom x reader #reader x venom #venom #eddie brock x reader #reader x eddie brock

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buffyisms · 8 years ago

Photo

❝ Oh, I'm not really into porn... I mean I'm just... I'm trying to cut way back.❞

❝ When you look back at this, in the three seconds it'll take you to turn to dust, I think you'll find the mistake was touching my stuff ❞

❝ Uhm, this is much better. There is no problem that can not be solved with chocolate." ❞

❝ I don't think the forces of darkness are even trying. ❞

❝ Yeah. I ran away and went to hell and then got through it. I'm kind of hoping she doesn't use me as a model. ❞

❝ I like my evil like I like my men - evil. You know, 'straight up, black hat, tied to the train tracks, soon my electro-ray will destroy metropolis' bad. ❞

❝ Can a nice, safe relationship be that intense? I know it's nuts, but... part of me believes that real love and passion have to go hand in hand with pain and fighting. ❞

❝ Fortune favors the brave ❞

❝ I thought a professional demon chaser like yourself would have figured it out by now. ❞

❝ I'm the Slayer. Slay-er? - Chosen One. She who hangs out a lot in cemeteries? ❞

❝ You're kidding. Ask around. Look it up: Slayer comma the. ❞

❝ Of course, you could smash in all my toes with a hammer and it will still be the bestest Birthday Bash in a big long while." ❞

❝ Don't worry I've patrolled in this halter many times ❞

❝ If you think that's enough to kill me, you really don't know what a Slayer is. Trust me when I say you're gonna find out. ❞

❝ That probably would have sounded more commanding if I wasn't wearing my yummy sushi pajamas.❞

❝ Yeah, well love isn't logical. It's not like you can be Mister Joe Sensible about it all the time. ❞

❝ No matter what, somebody's gonna get hurt. And the important thing is, you just have to be honest, or it's gonna be a lot worse ❞

❝ Are you quite finished? It's over, okay? I'm going to ignore you, and you're going to go away. ❞

❝ Also, in terms of hair care, you really wanna say, what kind of impression am I making in the workplace? ❞

❝I need to know more. About where I come from ❞

❝Maybe if I could learn to control this thing, I could be stronger, I could be better. But... I'm scared. ❞

❝ I know it's gonna be hard. And I can't do it... without you. I need your help. ❞

❝ I need you to be my Watcher again. ❞

❝ Thank you, logic boy. Did I mention this is a rant? Sense really has no place in it. ❞

❝ Oh, right. Yeah. Darn. My fellow ravers will be so disappointed. It was my turn to bring the Bundt cake.❞

❝ Your definition of narrow is impressively wide. ❞

❝ I realize that every Slayer comes with an expiration mark on the package. But I want mine to be a long time from now. Like a Cheeto. ❞

❝ Don't talk about the books again. You get all... and sometimes there's drool. ❞

❝ Power. I have it. They don't. This bothers them. ❞

❝ So here's how it's gonna work. You're gonna tell me everything you know. Then you're gonna go away. ❞

❝ It doesn't matter where you came from, or, or how you got here. ❞

❝ You are my sister. There's no way you could annoy me so much if you weren't. ❞

❝ I don't know about you, but I've had it with super-strong little women who aren't me. ❞

❝ I don't need a guy right now. I need me. I need to get comfortable being alone with me.❞

❝ . I'm starting to feel like... being the Slayer is turning me into stone. ❞

❝ I know this ritual! The ancient shamans were next called upon to do the hokey-pokey and turn themselves around ❞

❝ Okay, no. Death is not a gift. ❞

❝ If I have to kill demons because it makes the world a better place, then I kill demons, but it's not a gift to anybody. ❞

❝ What you did, for me... that was real. I won't forget it. ❞

❝ I'm the Slayer. The chosen one. All mythic and defender-y. ❞

❝ Evil nasties are supposed to flee from me. Not the other way around. ❞

❝ I don't understand. I don't know how to live in this world if these are the choices. ❞

❝ I love you. I will always love you. But this is the work that I have to do. ❞

❝ The hardest thing in this world... is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me. ❞

❝ I think I was in heaven. And now I'm not. I was torn out of there. ❞

❝ Everything here is hard, and bright, and violent. Everything I feel, everything I touch, this is Hell. ❞

❝ Now, about my loan. I'm not saying I'm charging you for saving your life or anything, but... let's talk rates. ❞

❝ Is that why you're always cleaning your glasses? So you don't have to see what we're doing? ❞

❝ What can't we face if we're together? ❞

❝ Well, I'm not exactly quaking in my stylish yet affordable boots, but there's definitely something unnatural going on here. And that doesn't usually lead to hugs and puppies ❞

❝ Why can't I feel? ❞

❝ A vampire with a soul? Oh my god, how lame is that? ❞

❝ I am the ghost of fashion victims past. Studded caps? Not a good idea. ❞

❝ I'm not saying that I'm doing back-flips about my life, but I didn't, I don't wanna die. That's something, right? ❞

❝ Yeah, I think the New Kids On The Block posters are starting to date me ❞

❝ You always hurt the one you love. ❞

❝ We do not joke about eating people in this house! ❞

❝ The most important job that I have is looking out for you. ❞

❝ I'm using you. I can't love you. I'm just being weak, and selfish and it's killing me. I have to be strong about this. ❞

❝ I'd say you look like you're ready to get married. ❞

❝ That's because the dress is radioactive. ❞

❝ I have feelings for you. I do. But it's not love. I could never trust you enough for it to be love. ❞

❝ But we don't kill humans. It's not the way ❞

❝ We can't control the universe. ❞

❝ When I clawed my way out of that grave, I left something behind. A part of me. ❞

❝ Things have really sucked lately. That's all going to change and I want to be there when it does ❞

❝ I want to see you grow up, the woman you're going to become. Because she's going to be beautiful and she's going to be powerful. ❞

❝ I don't want to protect you from the world. I want to show it to you. There's so much that I want to show you. ❞

❝ Peachy with a side of keen, that would be me. ❞

❝ It's not enough. I need to fix this. I don't usually get a heads up before somebody dies.❞

❝ So what then? What do you do when you know that? When you know that maybe you can't help? ❞

❝ It is always different! It's always complicated. And at some point, someone has to draw the line, and that is always going to be me. ❞

❝ You get down on me for cutting myself off, but in the end the slayer is always cut off. ❞

❝ There's no mystical guidebook. No all-knowing council. Human rules don't apply. ❞

❝ There's only me. I am the law. ❞

❝ It's not coddling. Now go to your closet. ❞

❝ Anna Nicole Smith thinks you look tacky. ❞

❝ OK, you know, this is beyond evil. This is insane troll logic. ❞

❝ If you knew what I've done, what I've let myself become. ❞

❝ "I feel like I'm worse than anyone. ❞

❝ Look, there's something evil working us, and if we are ever gonna have a chance to fight it, we need to learn everything we can about it. ❞

❝ "I don't have a choice. Whatever this thing is, from beneath us, it's bad, and it's only getting worse. ❞

❝ No. I don't hate like that. Not you, or myself. Not anymore. ❞

❝ You think you have insight now because your soul's drenched in blood? You don't know me. You don't even know you. ❞

❝ You know, I didn't even realize it was December. Maybe when we get home, we should decorate the rubble ❞

❝ I'm beyond tired. I'm beyond scared. ❞

❝ I'm standing on the mouth of hell, and it is gonna swallow me whole. And it'll choke on me. ❞

❝ They think we're gonna wait for the end to come, like we always do. I'm done waiting. ❞

❝ They want an apocalypse? Oh, we'll give 'em one. ❞

❝ From now on, we won't just face our worst fears, we will seek them out. We will find them, and cut out their hearts one by one.❞

❝ There is only one thing on this earth more powerful than evil, and that's us. ❞

❝ Welcome to the hellmouth. ❞

❝ But I don't believe in that. I always find a way. ❞

❝ 'm the thing that monsters have nightmares about. ❞

❝ don't know what's coming next, but I do know it's gonna be just like this. Hard. Painful.❞

❝ Death is what a slayer breathes, what a slayer dreams about when she sleeps. Death is what a slayer lives. ❞

❝ My death could make you the next slayer. ❞

❝ The odds are against us. Time is against us. And some of us will die in this battle. ❞

❝ Most people in this world have no idea why they're here or what they want to do. You do. ❞

❝ You think I'm losing sight of the big picture, but I'm not. ❞

❝ You can't beat evil by doing evil. I know that. ❞

❝ The hellmouth has begun its semi-annual percolation. Usually, it blows around May. ❞

❝ They're not all gonna make it. Some will die, and nothing I can do will stop that. ❞

❝ I'm the slayer. The one with the power ❞

❝ I've been carrying you, all of you, too far, too long. Ride's over. ❞

❝ I don't like having to give a bunch of speeches about how we're all gonna live, because we won't. ❞

❝ This isn't some story where good triumphs because good triumphs. Good people are going to die! ❞

❝ Hello! All I do is look at the big picture. The other day, I gave an inspirational speech to the telephone repair man. ❞

❝ "I have a mission to win this war, to save the world. I don't have time for vendettas. The mission is what matters. ❞

❝ "I'm tired of talking. I'm tired of training. ❞

❝ For 7 years, I've kept us safe by doing this, exactly this, making the hard decisions. ❞

❝ And now, what, suddenly you're all acting like you can't trust me? ❞

❝ Don't... be afraid to lead them. ❞

❝ Whether you wanted it or not, their lives are yours. ❞

❝ It's only gonna get harder. Protect them, but lead them. ❞

❝ I cut myself off from them, all of them. I knew I was going to lose some of them.❞

❝ I've always cut myself off, I've always — being the Slayer made me different but it's my fault I stayed that way. ❞

❝ People are always trying to connect to me but I just slip away. ❞

❝ "People die. You lead them into battle, they're going to die. It doesn't matter how ready you are or how smart you are. War is about death. Needless, stupid death. ❞

❝ I'm cookie dough. I'm not done baking. I'm not finished becoming whoever the hell it is I'm gonna turn out to be. ❞

❝ "I hate this. I hate being here. I hate that you have to be here. ❞

❝ I hate that there's evil, and that I was chosen to fight it. ❞

❝ But this isn't about wishes. This is about choices. ❞

❝ I'm going down into the hellmouth, and I'm finishing this once and for all. ❞

❝ So here's the part where you make a choice ❞

❝ So I say we change the rule. I say my power should be our power. ❞

❝ Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong? ❞

#dearindies #rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #( & ˢᵉⁱᶻᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵈᵉᵃᵈ | ᴍᴇᴍᴇꜱ. )#i have made so many buffy memes but there is just so many amazing quotes in this show #powerful ones angsty ones funny ones

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ecotone99 · 6 years ago

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[UR] Hard Rock Café Returns to a Jukebox for the Musically Lame

Hard Rock was known as the place to hang - for everybody, and it had the people to prove it. My fellow homies and the white folk; together with everyone else. Live music from the brothers and the honky-tonks with a dash of the exotic. Music from wherever and whatever. Concocting a vibe of kinky aired groove. ♫ London, circa February 1971. The Black and Groovy, Moody Viceroys were not the sovereign rulers of London’s music. Let me give you the skinny on the deal: the homies and I were not interested in hard work complementing our evident talent. The ratchet clubs and pubs of inner city London were not like-minded with our Afro-Americana. This was a band of Stevie Wonders and like him, we were not blind to our reality; London had not felt our funk. ♩ My Man Leon; bass guitar; was hip to the grove, really knew how to get down but was known as a real let down. He knew where the funk of the town grew and where the town of the funk laid. On a drizzly night in Mayfair, I was accompanied by his rational rhythmic review of the radical music get-ups. As we drew closer to home where the colours laid; any remnants of the flower child were conquered by the pumpin’ Purple Haze. I was ready to boogie. And so was she. ♩ Her shape was unreal and I dug how real her shick was. She glowed with a white creamy bloom as the rain grew more and more purple, like acid. I leap frogged towards her into potholes that were welling up into pools of many altered states. Followed by giant speeding black dogs running down the street. Leon clutched my arm, “Yo yo watch yo step my man, don’t trip.” She glowed stronger and I jumped higher – lost in space, didn’t know whether I was comin’ up or down. Wherever I was, that girl, she put a spell on me. “Ay yo, my man, you’re wired, keep it real.” My connection with her was wireless. She spoke to me. I jumped to her, warmed up and ready for us to jump each other’s bones. I soared through The Doors of perception and touched the hand of God becoming her Angel. We boogied all night and man could she dance. I was inside having the time of our lives. In Funk I trust. Even when the hard lights hit and the pulsating rhythm stopped; I saw through The Doors of perception. The Hard Rock Café, she was the real deal, the melting pot of dreams, love, hope and expression. The Black and Groovy, Moody Viceroys had found their woman. ♫ Paris, Circa December 1974 James; a frequent visitor of Ladyland, wah-wahed the inhabitants with his Electric guitar. His luggage; a Fender Stratocaster and a suitcase sporting a wide-toothed comb that groomed his bonnet of Afro-Americana. The man would stop at nothing to get the women of his dreams. We had just finished our third and final sold-out gig in France; James and the band, we was feeling amorous and Leon had already found the get downs of love in the city of Vogue models, American haters and well-groomed men; and love. To James this was wango, an exciting challenge that he would overcome. So, we stepped out onto the Parisian groove, toward the funkadelia. The magic carpet to the Moulin Rouge awaited us and we were not late. ♩ We walked in – bad, killers on the prowl, parting the sea of our gazing European prey. Leon floated, “Ey, catch you up man,” and I kicked it with James, figured his funky-dory reputation would lead me to the gold, catch my drift? Now, my brother was not interested in the pale skin. He grooved for the Electric foxes of Ladyland, and with our Gypsy Eyes out, on the hunt, we jiggied the restracto joint; shimmying the jelly brains and flapping our fly on the French - the whole time on the watch for vivacious vixens who were up to no good. But we were mistaken to think this was Hard Rock, All Along the windmill we were not the stone groove Viceroys that Hard Rock had made us to be, but chumps forced to close the shades. James tried to shine it on, keep on truckin’. But he and I could no longer hear the music because we had been outcast by the inky vibes formed by shades and colours distinct from our own. Leon had felt the funk fault and booked it to us, “Ay let’s peel out, Audi 5000 - you know?” But James, a well-grooved man did not take this shit from the well-groomed men and would not admit defeat. His trench coat swept the dance floor as his feet beat to the beat - radiating friction and heat into pigment the colour of their national banner. As he got down they shaped up faster than their white flag rose. They was reaming to give James pain but James remained on his dancing toes. So, when the crowd’s hostility grew, Leon’s brother nature kicked in and his gangling arms intervened, “Ey; plastic, man, it’s plastic.” He shoved James off his disco trance, “We’re going.” We walked out – low, like prey, this time parting the bleached sea with a different Biblical reading. ♫ Santa Barbara, Circa October 1982 Anthony; a wizard who used two wands to create enchanted rhythms, bathed in the sun with a two-day-old morning issue of the Illustrated London Times. The band was coming to the end of its fourth tour, each more successful than the last. Because of this, we were confined to our plush apartment; fans made us slaves to our fame and it felt like we were still waging a civil war against everyone else. A headline caught Anthony’s eye; the WORD was that Hard Rock wasn’t a funky girl anymore. That the suits had installed a jukebox in her heart, cut out her jive and shot electro convulsive tunes through the rest. Afraid of losing our woman, the band became heavy; we knew one thing, kings don’t hold the reign unless the queens make the game – the decision was final, the Los Angeles shows were no more, our Creator awaited. ♫ London, Circa November 1982 We were not late. Landing In From the Storm and avoiding the speeding black dogs. The wind cried over the rain as we drifted down the London streets leading to Mayfair, and we wrapped ourselves in the cloak of her many memories. ♩ The testing - one, two, three - came to see if the Hard Rock Café was really lame. We pushed through The Doors. A geezer called us black sons of bitches and he didn’t lose any respect, a bizzie who didn’t like us from before barked in our face - told us to be respectful of the memorabilia and that he was watching us. The jukebox kept playing - no one did nothing. The patrons’ judgments rotating with the 45. ♩ And when we played we told ourselves that it was just a dead November morning, that the jukebox meant folk just weren’t feeling our vibe, but we could not fool ourselves for long. Instruments were used, my voice amplified. Mute. She had been our Creator, the stage for things we dreamed of being able to play but did not have the groove to do. When we left in ’72 we funked and the Gods made love to her angel’s music – now she just sits lobotomised by a jukebox. This was a Rainy Day that we wanted to Dream Away, but when we awoke it was Still Raining and we were Still Dreaming. Is that the stars in the sky, or is it just rain falling upon our eyes distorting perception? ♫ Circa 1990 Everyday it seems like November, Everyday seems like that morning.

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#Blogger #Story

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lareinedumondejeb · 7 years ago

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Lady at the vet on August 10th.

On August 10, 2017, my horse Lady was chased by dogs. She had tied up and had wounds all over, particularly on the left foreleg. She was very lame, but it was difficult to see where the problem(s) was(were).

Using logical deduction (just about the only thing that would cause her to run around frantically was a pack of dogs, and the wounds looked like bites), I stated that, although we had not seen what happened, I was 95% certain it was dogs. Several days later we captured one of the culprits; a young puppy (at least) had returned to the scene of the crime and was too stupid to get through the fence when the kids came out.

left fore had the worst injuries.

The apprentice vet suggested x-raying the left foreleg, but I was convinced it was superficial, and that belief was backed by senior vet who arrived later. The only relatively untouched lower leg was the right hind. She also had strange scrapes on her chest, and a swelling on her neck with punctures that could have been teeth. I thought she had run into a fence, but after walking the entire fence line, realized that was impossible.

bite on neck

Her blood work, unsurprisingly, was consistent with tying-up (duh, it was obvious). She stayed the night at the clinic to a fortune’s worth of liquids. She also received Banamine, and the left fore was wrapped with DMSO and furacin (at an exorbitant cost, I should have done it before I left her).

The next day I brought her home. The first few days, she didn’t know which leg to favor, she was so sore. She was confined to the stall for the most part, but I took her out to graze. By the third day I knew something was seriously wrong with her left fore. I had seen many horses tie up. This was not only exercise induced rhabdomyolosis.

I did the best I could to take a video (ie I had my son do it) which I sent to my vet to convince him that yes, my horse was very broken, it was from the shoulder, and he needed to come out because I didn’t want to trailer her.

The above video was taken August 15. You can also see hives on her neck. For about a month, she would sporadically get hives on the left side of her neck, starting where the “bite” was. She because allergic to fly sprays (but I could use them as long as I didn’t get near the neck). No idea what that was about.

I sent the video to my vet, Dr. Trent Bliss at Interstate Equine, the next day. He said give her bute (I’d already done that on my own initiative). Two days later I texted him and said she was worse, and couldn’t get up properly, so he came out the next Monday (August 21, 11 days after the injury).

To be fair, I’d been regularly having the clinic look at Lady because of lamenesses I detected (and in one case, detected by two endurance ride vets –lameness pull) that were invisible or insignificant every time they looked at her. I have very sensitive unevenness radar.

The really good thing was that as soon as Dr. Bliss saw Lady walk on the 21st, he said “Sweeney.” (aka suprascapular neuropathy, or damage to the shoulder nerves). I have since learned that many cases of sweeney are misdiagnosed because it is relatively rare nowadays. I had never seen a case outside of the veterinary encyclopedias I used to study to prepare for the written exam portions of Youth of the Year contests. My understanding (from my teenage days) was that it resulted from ill-fitting harnesses (collars); it was a disease of working horses (ironically, so was tying-up, or Monday morning disease, common in work horses that were given Sundays off on full rations).

Dr. Bliss also said, “wow, you’re right, it is the shoulder.” (The shoulder is often blamed for lower limb lameness, probably because from the saddle it feels like the shoulder isn’t working properly when the horse fails to fully extend the leg).

Lady had an acute and severe case of sweeney. Taking into consideration the hematoma and bite marks on the lower left leg, we believe she was grabbed by a dog and fell, over-extending the left leg behind the rear legs (one cause of trauma-induced sweeney). For those of you who would want to be able to identify it, and complain that it’s unclear in the videos: the horse will pull the leg forward in a swinging motion, out from the elbow/shoulder. The toe may drag (Lady did this for about a month, 4-8 weeks post-injury). Once the foot is placed, the elbow will turn out as the horse steps forward with the sound leg. It’s easily recognizable once you know what you;re looking for.

Lady was prescribed stall rest and EQUIOXX. a NSAID that can be administered long term to horses, for the foreseeable future. At least three months and probably twelve. At this time, she could barely get up, and couldn’t get up at all from the bad side (I had to roll her over when she fell). She fell several times in the week before the sweeney diagnosis, because she didn’t understand she was disabled. (Fortunately, she soon learned to balance.) It was very discouraging.. not only would I not be able to ride her, she wouldn’t even be able to carry a foal if she couldn’t get up.

3 September 2017

Above are pictures from September 3rd, 3.5 weeks after injury. You can clearly see the atrophy.

I asked advice on the AERC Facebook page, had my mom ask her vet clinic, asked friends… There seemed to be no established procedure and no guaranteed cure. Lady is insured, and they would have covered surgery, but I really did not want to do this (even though my vet did mention the option). The general consensus was that the best bet would be acupuncture–which of course the insurance did not cover.

One month after the original trauma, I finally got an acupuncturist, Dr. Julia White, out. We did an initial video (below). Lady required sedation, and was still twitchy with flies, but Dr. White did electro-acupuncture and then left the needles in for another 20 minutes.

I had my doubts, and we still don’t know the extent to which the treatment aided recovery (no random assignment, etc), but one thing is certain: it must have felt good, because Lady loves her needle sessions. The second time Dr. White came, after one week, Lady recognized her as soon as she got out of the truck, and stood quietly for the needles. We’ve never had to sedate her again, even though she has turned into a bit of a fire-breathing dragon now she’s feeling better.

Dr. White also advised using balance trainers (see picture below). Lady is also getting megadoses of Vitamin E and flax seed meal (for the omega acids). I use a TENS/EMS unit on her every day while cleaning stall, etc. (ideally one hour, but often less). At first I got no reaction from the atrophied muscle, but it slowly improved.

Lady on balance trainers (she’ll stay there 10+ minutes if you are beside her, but gets off as soon as I go to clean the stall), with TENs Unit

I also took Lady out to roll in sand almost every day (sometimes in mud, if it had rained). She is on free choice grass hay (I fill four hay nets a day, and she has about half a net leftover in 24 hours), and one cup of Nutrena Safe Choice (split in two feedings). She gets about 1/3 cup Nutrena Pro-force fuel with her EQUIOXX and Vitamin E. I started hand walking in early October, with the goal of “not making her more lame” each time; ie I was supposed to stop before she got worse, which at the beginning was about one minute.

November 1, 2017

See all those needles in the above pictures (Taken November 1st)? Lady doesn’t move a muscle during application. Her last session was yesterday. She also got a chiropractic adjustment; rearing and levitating is not good for you when you are already damaged.

The reason I am finally completing this blog is that I am hopeful, at last, after nearly four months, that I might be able to not only breed Lady, but potentially ride her as well. On Monday, Lady went nuts after her roll. Rearing, jumping, scootching around like an 850 lb greyhound in back of me. So I left her in the round pen to get a longe rope (she ground ties just fine even when she won’t lead). I sent her around me in both directions, bucking and snorting for about 30 seconds, to get her manageable. Then I took the video below.

She’s a different horse! Even after already having played more than she had in four months, she was barely lame, and had only a tiny bit of sweeney in the elbow at the walk. I was very excited and shared the video with Dr. Bliss. Dr. White came out yesterday and agreed with me that she was doing fantastic, considering the severity of the injury and the short time that has passed. Of course, she was much more lame on Tuesday, but already improving again yesterday. Still sore today, but not too bad. Dr. Bliss says I’ll know she’s mostly recovered when she does the crazy two days in a row.

Of course, now comes the difficult part: keeping her from damaging the rest of her body while she recovers, and/or redamaging the nerve by being stupid. She has to stay in the stall, on EQUIOXX, and have controlled exercise (i.e., hand-walking), until she’s in no danger of injuring herself. I am fantasizing with occasional turnout on good (not slippery or muddy) terrain, with horses near but not in with her, at around six months. I cannot wait to get her out of the stall permanently though, so I don’t want to rush things.

Video of today’s therapy session:

I will add to this in a few months, to document the changes.

Lady a few days before the injury. The now-bad shoulder looked just like this one 😉

Sweeney Shoulder On August 10, 2017, my horse Lady was chased by dogs. She had tied up and had wounds all over, particularly on the left foreleg.

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vctrmagazine · 8 years ago

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magnetic reality: setting the stage for mass murder in school

john-ivan palmer

Once a metaphysical mutation has arisen, it tends to move inexorably towards its logical conclusion. Heedlessly, it sweeps away economic and political systems, aesthetic judgments and social hierarchies. No human agency can halt its progress—nothing except another metaphysical mutation.

—Michel Houellebecq, Les particules élémentaires, 1998

Anton Mesmer (1734-1815) created a device called the baquet (tub, bucket) large enough for numerous people to sit around in a lavish studio. It was somewhat like a TV with rabbit ears, but the screen was inside your head. The rabbit ears were metal rods you touched so the “magnetic fluid” within the baquet, supposedly held in iron filings and “magnetized” water, could go into you like electricity.

Mesmer’s contraption was nothing new in the history of magnets and therapeutic mojo used by healers since antiquity. Cleopatra reportedly slept on an actual magnet as a skin treatment. But Mesmer’s magnetism, some invisible fluid captured by hocus pocus from empty space, went beyond its claimed power to heal whatever the ailment. It functioned as pastime, entertainment. If you touched one of the baquet’s rabbit ears you went bonkers, rolled on the floor, laughed, cried, kissed your brains good-bye. You were mesmerized. A fee was charged. It was quite the rage.

Those capable of analytical thought (Ben Franklin, to name one) dismissed Mesmer’s “animal magnetism” as nothing more than imagination. King Louis XVI, however, took it more seriously and formed a Royal Commission that concluded, “The spectacle of the crises [crazy responses] is…dangerous because of that imitation that Nature seems to have set as a law for us…In consequence, all public treatment at which the practice of magnetism is employed, can only have, in the long run, sinister effects.” He could not see what those long run, sinister effects would be, but did observe with concern magnetic imitators cropping up all over Paris to everyone’s great delight.

The modern version of Mesmer’s baquet is any object with a mesmerizing screen. Teenagers spend an average of nine hours a day in front of one and four thousand people a year die on the highway from having their attention taken away by its suggestive influence.

I used to demonstrate mesmerism as an educational program. School Assembly Service in Chicago booked me for thirty-six weeks at a time, traveling a thousand miles a week across ten Midwestern states performing two to four assemblies per day. I also worked through Dakota Assemblies, affiliated with North Dakota State University in Fargo, and appeared at a majority of all the high schools in the Dakotas as well as parts of Montana, Nebraska and Minnesota. This put me in more schools in a week, certainly in a month, than most teachers and administrators see in their entire career. A salesperson set up the routes a year in advance, scheduling me as well as folk singers, whistlers, jugglers and magicians who merged what they did with an educational “message,” however lame, to justify the cost, even though it was openly understood that the assembly was an excuse to get out of class for a little amusement. My program consisted of manipulating high school students into rowing imaginary boats and eating non-existent ice cream cones, talking Martian and meowing like cats. It was sold as “Mind in Action.”

There was something I didn’t realize at first because it happened so slowly. Over several years reactions to my program began to diminish. Demand itself declined from four hundred agency booked school appearances a year to fifty that I booked myself. Then half of that, and then half again. The same was true for the whistlers, jugglers and magicians along with their lame messages. School assembly agencies themselves went out of business one by one. With agencies gone, schools gave in to no-cost assemblies by military recruiters, religious proselytizers, or cops talking about drugs. A whole new administrative protocol emerged and principals receded into the background. They no longer wandered among their students like a shepherd tending their flock. They delegated assembly decisions to student committees loosely working under advisors. All pretense of educational message was gone and the committees were more likely to bring in local boy bands popular on Facebook.

The more television monitors I saw in halls and classrooms, the more computers I saw crowding out bookshelves in the library, the more channels available on TV, the more heads I saw looking down at gizmos in the palm, the less impressed they were by fantasy cats and Martians. I tried telling everyone to turn off their smartphones, thinking that would solve the problem of divided attention, but it was as impractical as telling everyone put away their shoes. I was competing against a whole new baquet.

In October of 2005 I arrived at the high school on Red Lake Indian Reservation in Minnesota. Because of widely publicized spree shootings at American schools, most notably Columbine, Red Lake took no chances and installed an airport-style weapons detector at the front door. Schools had been the busiest and most open public places in any community, but they became locked asylums. Two friendly security guards in street clothes were expecting me for my noon assembly. “It’s OK,” said one. “The machine isn’t turned on.” I was trustworthy enough to bypass the weapons detector. One of them escorted me to the gym to set up my sound system and arrange the chairs for volunteers.

I saw on the wall a notice that read: HICKEYS WILL NOT BE TOLERATED. Schools often had their own battle lines over one thing or another: wearing hats indoors, skirt length, printing on T-shirts. One school had a major issue over the π symbol written on walls and mirrors, referring to some incident “too complicated to explain.” Hickeys themselves were no surprise, but this was the first time I’d seen them as an overt issue. The sign went on to read: If you are seen with a hickey you will be sent to the office and it will be covered with makeup. If not, then you will be sent home. In an isolated place like the Red Lake Reservation, what else was there for teenagers to do but suck each other’s necks, especially with the thrilling knowledge that it was forbidden?

Rules against unconventional hairstyles had long since been abandoned in schools so I was used to every kind of coif, but nothing quite like the one on the hefty, alert-looking boy who passed me at the hickey sign. He had gelled his hair up on the back of his head into two horns. As one odd stranger to another we exchanged greetings and went our separate ways.

According to my personal show report, I began my demonstration at 12:01 and ended at 1:13 p.m. I wrote that the audience was unfocused at first, but once the subjects (eight males and six females) were put into a mesmeric state and given suggestions of fishing, surf boarding, and driving a monster bus, responses were adequate, but not as frenzied as past years.

Eighteen months later I saw the horn-haired boy’s face again. It was in the paper. He was identified as Jeff Weise (“Wees”). His grandfather was a police sergeant on the reservation. At 2:45 in the afternoon Weise, now sixteen, stole his grandfather’s police car and crashed it into the front of the school. At the weapons detector (whether it was turned on or not didn’t matter) he pulled out a semi-automatic pistol and shot to death one of the two friendly security guards. The other fled for his life. Weise proceeded to the left down the hall where I had first met him under the hickey sign, entered a classroom and murdered seven more people. Then he put the pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger. That ended whatever state of mind he was in.

He was not one of my subjects a year and a half earlier and I can only assume he was among the spectators. Whether he was in a “trance state” during his murder spree is a matter of speculation. Whether he was in what’s called “baseline consciousness” is equally speculative. Perhaps he was in a state similar to the one he was in during those many hours he spent alone in front of modernism’s baquet, playing violent videogames and composing bloody “flashtunes,” murder animations composed with easily-obtained software and posted on Newgrounds.com. A year and a half earlier when I was at his school, if he had walked all the way down the hall to the gymnasium where the entire student body sat in the bleachers, he would have encountered a greater concentration of potential victims. Instead of the dubious distinction of enacting the second largest high school shooting in American history (after Columbine) he could have launched himself into first place. He certainly would have upstaged me.

When such an anomalous performance occurs people want answers. Simple ones easy to understand. If we just do this. If we just do that. There is no lack of professional advice. “Cause” is the operative word. Psychologist David Walsh, leading proponent of “scripts” theory, proposes that certain behaviors are “wired” into brains. Note the indirect reference to the combination of suggestive influence and electro magnetism. Dr. George Realmuto, University of Minnesota child psychiatrist, is quoted on Public Radio as saying that certain people are genetically predisposed to school shootings. “I don’t think we have a mechanism for stopping them,” he adds. Clearly, a costly weapons detector did nothing to stop Jeff Weise. One can focus on such proximate factors as bullying and treating mental distress, factors in Weise’s case and in most other school shootings, and addressing those issues, however imperfectly, is about all that can reasonably done besides the lock-ups and buzz-ins. Beyond that that we’d have to turn the clock back to an age of a simpler, less lethal baquet. Dr. Edward Shorter, Faculty of Medicine at Toronto University, says, “It’s hard to imagine an Adam Lanza [Sandy Hook massacre, twenty-eight dead] existing a century ago, before this culture of violence and depravity [was] available at the click of a mouse or press of a button.”

In August and September of 2004 Jeff Weise was deeply immersed in his private baquet on Newgrounds.com, a forum for videogames, many violent, like “Minute of Rage” (“Try to survive one minute on [sic] the deadly arena”) and “Outsourced Hell” (“Manage your own little hell in this dark idle game”). He posted his own reviews of several games and amateur animations, and, curiously, gave the highest rating to a notably nonviolent, minimalist piece titled “Hidden in the Snow,” consisting of just one static image of three small, white, meteor-like streaks on a black background. It’s not known whether Weise saw this image as a symbol of his own disintegrated family (he was the only child of an alcoholic mother and suicidal father), but he did make this comment: “Jawohl… you've managed to captivate my simple, and often moronic, child-like, mind.” He added, “lacks three things: content, naked women, and guns...” The artist responded to Weise’s comment by writing, “wth [what the hell] does jawohl mean?” All he had to do was Google the word and find it means “yes” in German. Why the German? Why did Weise identify himself elsewhere in a chat room as “Todesengel,” German for “Angel of Death”? Because, as a Native American mesmerized by the Internet, he had come to idolize Hitler and was active on the website Nazi.org.

He posted two flashtune animations on Newgrounds.com under one of his various pseudonyms, “Regret” (197 fans). The first was the thirty-second “Clown,” featuring a psychotic bozo trembling to a background of eerie death music by the goth band Evanescence. A male figure enters the frame and the clown grabs him. Cut to the clown’s big shoes on which splats a huge gush of blood.

“Target Practice” is another thirty-second flashtune by Regret with more complex animated movement. A male figure with no facial features except a horizontal bar across the eye area, appears carrying a bag. He coolly puffs a cigarette, removes an assault rifle from the bag and shoots four people, none of whom have faces either. One figure stands with hands behind its back as if a prisoner awaiting execution, another is simply a bystander, and another is sitting on a park bench. When the bullets hit, their heads explode in bursts of red. The shooter throws a hand grenade and blows up a police car before finishing off someone in, paradoxically, a Klan hood. Then he puts a pistol in his mouth and pulls the trigger in a final blood-burst of red. Something like that is more darkly stimulating in a primal way that a live person licking an imaginary ice cream cone. The similarities between “Target Practice” and Weise’s performance on March 21, 2005, are so obvious they hardly need pointing out. Beginning with the word “practice” in the title, it goes on from there. Similar flashtunes by others are just as violent, yet do not result in their creators committing mass shootings. But they still entrance and influence through the digital baquet. “Target Practice” is still posted on Newgrounds.com and registers over 500,000 views.

In their world of virtual unreality, the Columbine shooters, Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris, let the baquet’s mesmeric mania enter and take over their minds. With the imitative quality King Louis’s investigative Commission warned of, they influenced each other and a few pals to become a death cult known as the Trench Coat Mafia. When showtime came around, their staged performance, planned to coincide with Hitler’s birthday, left fifteen dead, including themselves, and twenty wounded, mostly among books in the school library. It was not from the interaction of their personal pathologies with books, but with the baquet.

Through the electro-mesmeric ether (electronic media) the power of suggestion traveled with the speed of thought into the mind of Jeff Weise in the Minnesota boonies. Spending more time at his computer than in the real world, his rational mind slid toward annihilation. Like Klebold and Harris before him he wore a long black trench coat. Like them he admired Hitler and planned his attack on the dictator’s birthday. During the Columbine massacre Harris asked one of his victims before shooting her, “Do you believe in God?” Weise parroted the same question before shooting one of his own victims.

Ironically, Benjamin Franklin, in Paris at the time and part of the Royal Commission, could not see the future power of his own discoveries in electricity to some day transmit mesmeric suggestions over great geographical distances. “Sensitive creatures,” as the Commission described them, in whom “reason has less empire over them,” combined with the discovery of Franklin’s electro-magnetic flow, set in motion the long line of interactive causation resulting in the Columbine and Red Lake massacres. A student in Tuusula, Finland murdered eight people at his own high school. Another Finnish shooter was alleged to have been in touch via the Internet with a teen planning a Columbine-style attack back in Pennsylvania. Evidence found in a chat room led to a similar plan at a school in Kaart, Germany. A plot in Göttingen was based on the anniversary of a school shooting in Emsdett, Germany. A similar plot was uncovered in Cologne. Five years prior, a school massacre in Erfurt was the largest mass killing at a German high school, exceeding even Columbine, with seventeen killed, including the shooter, who missed Hitler’s birthday by less than a week, landing instead on the birthday of William Shakespeare. Ironically, at the very moment Jeff Weise was shooting his classmates, a film on Shakespeare was being shown in a nearby classroom, which he overlooked because it was dark, and thought the room was empty. This grim juxtaposition of the pre-baquet (Shakespeare) with the post-baquet (Columbine) era is similar to another juxtaposition depicted in a photo in Beiler and Smucker’s Think No Evil, Inside the Story of the Amish Schoolhouse Shooting (2009), where an Amish horse and buggy passes by a “media horde” of satellite dishes relaying the event.

Criminologist Frank Robertz is quoted in the Guardian: “The phenomenon of massacres by young people in schools…has only existed since Columbine.” What Robertz does not mention, probably because he is not a mesmerist, is that the seeds of Columbine began to germinate when the two magnetisms (animal and electro) merged to massively inflate the imitative, unstoppable power of suggestion warned about centuries earlier. If nothing could be done about it then, most certainly nothing can be done about it now.

John-Ivan Palmer's work has appeared in Exquisite Corpse, Nth Position, Wild River Review, Wisconsin Review, New Oregon Review, and Other Voices. The Drill Press published his novel, Motels of Burning Madness, and in 2009 and he received the Pushcart Prize for fiction.

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