#go and kick some north american ass my lads

[damnprecious]

you know what, I don't even care that Finland lost hockey to Canada tonight, I'm just out here cheering for Latvia, good job lads!!!!

[h-styles-babes]

Nr 51 from the writing prompts pleaseee😍

Thank you so much for your request, babes! Sorry this one took me a bit longer. Between the other requests I had and keeping up with No Control, this took bit of a backseat, but I finally got time to write it. Hope you like it!

Also, this got a wee bit out of hand, so it kinda ends on a cliffy. If you want a second part, just let me know!

51. “I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking.”

Y/N was fucked.

Well, not literally, which was part of her problem, she thought. At least if she was literally fucked, she would be getting something other than feelings of immense frustration and a little bit of self-loathing from this situation. 

But, no. Y/N was fucked in the metaphorical sense where she knew no good could come of the feelings she could sense growing in her tummy, like a snowball that has somehow rolled itself into an avalanche without anyone noticing. One day she’d been happy to have a laugh with the boy she had no business even being friends with, and now she got butterflies in her stomach and a little flutter in her chest whenever he’d so much as smile because of her. She wasn’t sure when or how it’d happened, but it had, and now she was fucked.

That was all she could think of as she sat across from said boy at a pub, his hair hidden under a beanie, his nose adorably scrunched up as he laughed at some comment she’d made about his recent televised portrayal of Mick Jagger on an American TV show. He was freshly back from his debut performance as a solo artist, having taken to New York for the momentous occasion. They’d seen each other just the week before, before he’d left for America for a few days, but she had felt like she’d missed him dearly in their time apart. Seeing and hearing him giggle at her comment made her insides warm, and she couldn’t help the smile that settled onto her own face, happy with making him happy.

It’s not like they spent all their time together. He was a busy person, always off making music or filming already critically-acclaimed blockbusters or arranging some sort of promo for the new time in his career. But they’d seen a decent amount of each other and they’d become relatively close over the years, going to each other when they were looking for a fun time and a guaranteed laugh. Y/N knew she didn’t really have a reason to miss him so, other than the fact that she had developed feelings for the man. It was an unsettling sort of feeling, missing him so deeply even though she’d seen him more than normal in recent months. She’d gone months without even so much as a call between them before with little thought, but now not texting him everyday seemed like a travesty.

“Yeh’ve seen me do the impression before!” he protested through his chuckles. He took a sip from his glass, still sort of grinning at her, his green eyes never leaving her’s.

“Yeah! But never with you all dressed up and on national fucking telly,” she giggled, gently kicking at his shin underneath the table. She vaguely understood that she was actually flirting with him now, something she was sure she’d never done before, but she couldn’t help it. “And it made me miss your long hair.” She pouted at him playfully, though her statement was true. She’d met Harry when he was already in the process of growing it out, so she’d never seen it short in person before. Seeing him for the first time after the fancy photoshoot where he’d cut it had been a bit of a shock for Y/N, she’d admit. 

“Kinda miss it myself, honestly,” he nodded, running his hand over his head to rid himself of the beanie and tug his fingers through his hair. It was a bit longer now than it had been in recent months, since he’d had to keep it pretty uniform for while he was filming, but he was pretty sure Lou was going to talk him into a cut soon. “Don’t know when I’ll get a chance to grow it out again, though. Don’t wanna be in a weird phase when I have to do the premiere and stuff.”

Y/N huffed, a little put out. “Know my opinion doesn’t matter much, but I really liked the long hair. Bring it back, dammit!” she joked.

“Course your opinion matters, petal,” he admonished. “I could see the utter horror in your eyes when I saw yeh for the first time after I’d got it cut.” He chuckled at the memory, sipping at his pint. 

“It wasn’t horror!” she protested. “I was just shocked. Never knew yeh with short hair. Baby Harry had short hair. Man Harry always had long hair.”

“Do yeh refer to me as Baby Harry and Man Harry regularly in your head?” he asked, eyebrows scrunching together.

“Not unless I see photos of yeh from your early days. You look like a right child back then.”

“I was a child back then,” he reminded her. “Been doin’ this since I was sixteen.”

She cooed. “Aw, such a wee little lad.”

“Oh, shut it,” he chuckled, throwing some peanut shells at her that had accumulated on the table.

It had been a few days since Harry and Y/N had gone for a drink at their local pub, and she hadn’t really been expecting to hear from him for awhile, what with the promo for his new album and it’s ever-nearing release date. She figured he’d be much too busy with traveling and getting things in order to text her much less stop by her flat in North London, just a few block from his own home. But that’s exactly what he did one evening after Y/N had gotten in from work, already changed into her pyjamas and hair already thrown up in a half-assed bun. She was just about to start wiping her makeup off when there was a buzz, indicating that someone was requesting to come in. 

Y/N wasn’t expecting anyone, so she thought maybe it was one of her neighbors who forgot their keys needing to be let in. It had happened before, seeing as the older woman who lived next to her was very forgetful and often left her keys sitting on her kitchen counter when she left for her bingo nights that happened twice a week. Y/N wasn’t quite sure exactly which nights those were, but there was every possibility that one of them was that night. 

She answered the buzzer with a slight smirk on her face, waiting to hear Mrs. Knowles’ high pitched voice answer back to her when she said her greeting. 

“Lemme in, love,” came back Harry’s slow drawl, slightly shocking Y/N. “Bit nippy out here for mid-April.”

“I gave you a spare key to the front door so you wouldn’t have to wait, Harold,” she nagged, worried about someone out on the street recognizing him and bombarding him. She pressed the button to unlock the door.

“Lost it,” he answered casually, and Y/N could nearly see the shrug of his shoulders. 

She waited to continue their conversation until he was in the safety of her flat. As soon as he was in the door and shrugging off his coat, she picked up where they left off.  

“Lost it? I put it on your key ring for you! Now some creep is gonna get into my flat and it’ll be all your fault. If I die, I’m gonna make sure the police throw your ass in jail right alongside my murderer’s.”

“Can’t really do that if your dead, can yeh?” Harry mocked with a roll of his eyes. “And stop bein’ dramatic. I know the key’s in my house, just don’t know where.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Will yeh just stop for a mo’? Came over here for a reason, yeah?”

“And what is that, H?”

“What are yeh doing on the twenty-sixth?” he asked, a shit-eating grin making it’s way across his face. 

Y/N turned to look at the refrigerator where a dry-erase calendar was posted. She put her work schedule up on it as well as any appointments or important dates so that she’d remember when they came around. She remembered important events and dates just fine, but she was usually so busy scrambling around like a chicken with it’s head cut off that she forgot when it was coming up. It usually wasn’t until a day later that she’d remember and kick herself in the arse for it. The calendar helped to keep the clutter of her brain organized. 

“Nothing,” she shrugged. “‘ve got three days off in a row starting that day.” She silently rejoiced at that, having forgot from when she wrote it down the week prior. “Nothing else, though. Thought of maybe popping by my parents’ to spend a day with them. Why?”

“I’m goin’ to Paris for a performance and interview on a television show there,” he told her, grin only growing wider. 

“Congratulations?” she responded, kind of confused at the giddiness. This wasn’t something he hadn’t done before. “Make sure I set a reminder to watch it.”

“No, no,” he quickly denied, grabbing her hand from where she went to take up a marker to write the event down in the little box on the calendar. “Want yeh to come with me. Never been to Paris before, right?”

“Yeh serious?” she gasped, spinning back to stare at him with wide eyes. “Absolutely. Gonna be there for two full days, but the show’s only on the first one. Figured we could explore Paris together a bit. Sorta mini holiday.”

“What am I to do while you do your telly thing? Sit in the hotel? Get lost in Paris by myself and get picked up by human traffickers?”

“Why are yeh always so dramatic?”

“You’re the one who made me watch all the Takens! They were in Paris in the first one. I trust yeh, Harry, but you’re not exactly Liam Neeson.”

“Bugger off,” he huffed. “You’re gonna come with me, yeh weirdo. Sit all pretty in the studio and laugh at me trying to answer the questions that’ll all be in French and cry like yeh always do when I perform. Sound alright?”

“I do not always c—”“

“Love,” he cut off, grabbing her gently by the shoulders. 

She huffed. “Fine. Alright. I’ll come with yeh. Send me the information. Now, either get your arse out of my flat or sit down and watch some Netflix with me.”

Harry grinned, triumphant in getting her to agree to come to Paris with him on such short notice. He had been worried that she’d have to work or she just really wouldn’t have wanted to come with him, because they weren’t really that close, but he was pleased that it had all gone off without a hitch. Harry liked Y/N’s company. She was funny and quick-witted and she kept him on his toes in the best way possible. 

It had been complete chance that they had met a few years ago—having literally bumped into each other in a local Tesco’s on the soup aisle—but Harry thought maybe it wasn’t really chance, but actually fate. Within ten minutes of knowing her, he had felt like they knew everything about each other, aside from Y/N obviously recognizing him. She’d never treated him as Harry Styles though. They’d bumped into each other, causing Y/N to drop the soup cans she’d been balancing in her arms and under her chin. She’d cursed rather loudly, making Harry’s eyebrows jump up on his forehead at hearing such a little thing curse so vividly and with such emotion. He’d been quick to apologize, dropping down to pick up her cans and stand them upright so they didn’t roll away.

“Should’ve gotten a bloody basket,” she’d grumbled to herself, obviously frustrated. “Popped in for fucking milk and a new box of tea. Didn’t fucking think they’d be having such a good deal on the bleeding soups.”

Harry had chuckled at her dialogue to herself, amused with her colorful language and her grumbling. She must have heard him, because she popped her head up and leveled him with a glare. “What’re yeh laughing for? You’re the one that’s made me drop ‘em all.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized through a chuckle. “I’m not laughing at yeh, promise.” He’d quickly started piling her soup cans into his own empty basket, having just entered the store. “Take my basket. Yeh won’t have to carry all the soup in your hands, then. I’ll get a new one.”

Y/N had paused then, finally realizing who it was she was knelt beside. “You’re that Styles bloke. That one in the boyband.”

Harry tried to keep his cringe to himself, so he smiled tightly and nodded. “That would be me,” he confirmed, hoping this wouldn’t get unpleasant. He’d just wanted to get some food since his home had sat empty for so long. His fridge was nearly completely empty. He would never complain aloud, but he really didn’t want to run into any fans on his quick trip out.

“Neat,” she brushed off, moving to pile more cans into the basket. “Sorry for cursing at yeh. Been a long day.”

Harry was a little thrown off by her quick brush over how he was famous. It was rare that he was recognized and not bombarded for pictures or signatures or the like. He didn’t really like that a normal human interaction felt novel to him, but he did like that she had been so breezy about it all. Maybe she just wasn’t one to obsess over celebrities. Or maybe she didn’t like their music. 

After that, they’d got to talking about something so completely mundane, Harry couldn’t even remember what it was, but they spent a good fifteen minutes in the soup aisle of Tesco’s talking about nonsense and laughing together. When they had parted ways, it had been with no intention of ever seeing each other again, which both parties were surprisingly bummed about. It wasn’t two weeks later, however that Harry saw Y/N sitting in the window of a local coffee shoppe, stirring at a large mug with a spoon and reading a book he recognized by the cover. He remembers feeling a little flushed, knowing the dirty contents of the poems within, but smiling nonetheless, because it was a book he was fond of and somehow it fit that she was reading it. So, he’d popped in, spooking her at first and making her blush as she shut the book, placing it face down on the counter. He’d made a teasing comment about the author and the words in the book, and while she sat stunned at first, she quickly righted herself and made a joke about it being the only action she’d seen in months. 

She had rejoiced internally at the way it made Harry pause, hoping he’d felt even a fifth of the embarrassment she’d felt at his original greeting.

They left that day with each other’s numbers and a promise to get in touch. Ever since then, they’d see each other occasionally, usually in casual places where Harry could keep his head down. She’d even met his bandmates within a few months of knowing them. After they’d all hung out together at a pub, Harry had gotten a good ribbing from the lads about how fond he was of her. Harry had denied it, because it was a bit ridiculous that he’d be soft for someone he’d hardly seen, but he couldn’t deny to himself that he had a bit of a crush on her. He never addressed it though, and they’d kept their relationship platonic in the years that followed. 

Three years in, though, and that same warm feeling he’d get in his chest when he was around her had only intensified. Even when they’d hadn’t spoken much in a few months, he’d dream about her and his fingers would itch to text her or call her up when he was alone in his hotel room after a long day of shooting. He’d held himself back, though, not wanting his tired mind to do something he’d regret in the morning. 

He was playing off this new request for her to join him in Paris as him being a good friend and taking her to Paris since she’d expressed the want to go several times over the years but never getting a reason to go. Now he was giving her a reason since he was going to be there anyway. She’d get to see him perform his own solo music live for the first time, as well, and Harry was telling himself that was all it was. But he knew he had selfish reasons for asking her to tag along. He wanted more time with her because she made him feel good and he felt comfortable with her. He’d wanted to ask her to come to New York with him, too, since he had been so nervous for his first solo performance and he thought she’d make him feel better, but he had to be there for a whole week to rehearse and practice for his skits as well as his performance. She’d never have the time off.

But now he’d have time with her for two whole days in Paris, just the two of them, and he was beyond excited. He didn’t know what would come of this trip, and he wasn’t sure if he was excepting anything profound, but he was excited, anyhow.

“I feel highly underdressed,” Y/N expressed, looking down at her own wardrobe and comparing it to Harry’s. It was cold in France still, much like it was in England, and she’d put on a grey jumper, a navy green jacket, black jeans and black boots*. She’d ditched her scarf once they’d entered the building, but her casual outfit had nothing on the trouser and vest combo Harry was wearing with a plain black tee that fit him perfectly.

“Yeh look perfect,” Harry assured her, buttoning up the cute little vest he had on that matched his trousers. 

“I look like a slug compared to you.” 

Harry pursed his lips and furrowed his brows at her comparison. “Yeh do not look like a bloody slug, and yeh look beautiful. I’m only dressed like this because I’m gonna be on telly.”

Y/N huffed but peeked a little grin at his compliment. The part of her that fancied Harry always giggled like a school girl when he complimented her. The other part of her hurried to repress it and make sure she didn’t let out the embarrassing sound. “Your bum looks really good in those trousers,” she said to keep the attention away from herself. 

“Oi, what yeh lookin’ at me bum for?” he yelped, hands automatically moving to cover said area of his body.

Y/N laughed. “Couldn’t help it when yeh bent over to tie your shoes.” She walked by, taking Lou’s cue to join her in going out to the crowd with just minutes to spare before Harry was set to appear on stage. She patted a light smack to Harry’s bum and snickered when he yelped.

“Cheeky!” he yelled after her as the door started to swing shut behind them.

“Yeh know yeh love me, Styles!” she tittered back, laughing with Lou as they made their way down the hall leading to the main area of the studio. 

“Yeah, I do,” Harry sighed, though it fell on deaf ears.

Y/N was a mess of emotions as she watched Harry perform his own new single live for the first time. Sure she had seen him on the telly the week before, and she had been pretty emotional then, but this was completely different. She could feel his energy on that stage, much like she could when she caught a few of his shows when he was in One Direction. This was different, though. There weren’t a few other lads to take up the attention or to evenly disperse that intense energy. All of it was very obviously coming from Harry and she couldn’t quite contain how that made her feel. 

So, yes, she was crying by the time the drums got added to the song, and she had several tears streaming down her face by the time the bridge came around. Lou hugged her close, and she felt a bit silly for crying—even though Lou was pretty teary-eyed too—because she wasn’t sure it made her any different from any of the other young girls in the room that were crying, too. But Y/N realized she was crying because one of her best friends was up on that stage, bearing his soul to a crowd by playing his first solo single and absolutely killing it. She was intensely proud of him and all she wanted to do was hug him close and tell him what a good job he was doing. She felt sort of like a mum with how she wanted to coo at him, but she couldn’t really care then. Because she also wanted to kiss him until they were both breathless, and she figured that wasn’t very motherly at all.

Harry beamed as the song finished and quickly hopped off stage to join the host of the show at the desk in the center of the studio. He caught sight of Y/N in the front row, fingers quickly wiping underneath her eyes to rid herself of tears, and his smile brightened when he caught her eyes. She gave him a watery smile back and a thumbs up, her way of congratulating him when she wasn’t allowed any words. He blew a quick kiss to her before shaking the host’s hand and sitting to begin the interview portion. 

Since Y/N knew about ten words of French (six of them being the numbers one through six), the interview was a little lost on her, especially when the host would say something and the rest of the crowd would laugh. Her and Lou were pretty lost, and they relied heavily on Harry’s reactions and his answers to understand what was going on during the whole thing. 

There was one time, though, where Y/N caught the word ‘woman’ in the host’s question, and Harry took a bit longer than was necessary for the translation to flow into his in-ear to think up an answer. His eyes shifted to Y/N, who was sitting off to the left of him, keeping an eye on her as he formulated an answer she already knew was going to be bullshit.

When he started spewing about how the album was more a reflection of himself than a bunch of songs written about a woman, she knew he was lying through his teeth. Y/N hadn’t heard the album yet, because she liked the suspense of listening to it when everyone else in the world got to, so she wasn’t quite sure what all the songs sounded like or were about. But, for whatever reason, Harry was lying about his answer, and she was a little curious about the honest one. She’d have to ask him about it later, she figured. 

After his telly performance, he had a radio interview, but he promised Y/N they would get lunch afterward, just the two of them, so Y/N went back to the hotel by herself, since Harry needed the rest of his team around to finish out his interview. Luckily, the hotel was in walking distance and she remembered the way they’d came, because there was no way she’d have been able to read the street signs and navigate her way back. 

Back in the hotel, Y/N waited for Harry in his own room as opposed to the room she was sharing with Lou just across the hall. She contemplated turning on the telly to pass some time, but she realized she probably wouldn’t find any channels in English, so it was a waste. It wasn’t an issue anyway, since Harry showed up only twenty minutes later, smiling and already stripping out of his clothes. 

“There’s a cafe down the street I saw that looked good. Wanna head there for lunch?” he suggested, nearly tripping as he tried to shimmy his trousers down his legs.  

Y/N tried desperately to prevent herself from blushing as he took off his clothes. She’d seen Harry in close to nothing before since the man had a propensity for wearing as little clothes as possible whenever he wasn’t in public, but it was somehow different now, when it was just the two of them in his hotel room. Plus, his boxers were doing somehow less of a job at hiding his dick than his trousers usually did, and Y/N was slightly worried that it’d pop out of the little slip in his pants while he shimmied around to get the rest of his clothes off. 

Not to mention, Harry was still in incredibly good shape from his time on set and the workouts he still got in regularly, and the muscles of his upper body were making her a little hot and bothered. The shift of his back muscles as he pulled his black shirt over his head and the bulge of his biceps as he lifted his suitcase onto the bed were nearly enough to make her drool.

She cleared her throat before answering. “Yeah, sounds good. You’ll probably have to translate the menu for me, though.”

“I always forget you never took French in school.” 

“I thought Spanish would be cooler.”

He snorted as he pulled on his trusty black jeans. “Do you even remember any of it?”

“Sí.”

Harry burst out laughing, and she did her best to hide her grin because she wanted to be upset with him for laughing at her, but she couldn’t help it. He was still chuckling as he pulled on a t-shirt and the same hoodie that he wore when they flew in this morning. “Really fluent there, I see.”

“Impressive, I know,” she sighed, flipping her hair at him.

“Vamanos, senorita. Yo tengo hambre.”

Harry could feel Y/N’s stare as he ordered for both of them in French, just like he could always feel her stare when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. It was something she’d been doing for awhile now, and he’d caught her several times, even though he was pretty sure she never realized he had. She would have gotten all flustered and huffy if she’d ever known he realized she was staring at him with such a soft look on her face. It was an expression he wanted to photograph and keep forever in one of his journals or in his bloody wallet. It was a look that let him know that the feelings he harbored for her weren’t one-sided. 

Harry thanked their waiter and passed the menus off. Y/N stared at her tea, dropping her gaze quickly once Harry turned back to face her. The clinking of the metal spoon against the ceramic cup was rhythmic and it lulled helped Y/N to calm the butterflies that had kicked up in her stomach as she’d watched Harry interact with their waiter. She hated that even the most mundane things about Harry made her react so strongly. She felt out of control of her own body, and while she wanted the control back, she wasn’t necessarily upset that it as Harry who made her feel these things. There were worse people to get flustered over, she thought.

Harry cleared his throat over the lump that had formed there when he thought about voicing his next statement. He wasn’t quite sure this was the best place to have this conversation, but the urge to address it right then was something he couldn’t ignore. It was like the sentence was jumping to make it’s way out of his mouth and he was at it’s mercy at this point. Maybe he should have waited until they were in a more private place, but he’d started speaking before he even had a chance to second guess it. 

“I see the way yeh look at me when yeh think I’m not looking.”

Y/N’s stirring stopped immediately, letting her hand pause with the spoon mid-stir. She gulped loudly, afraid to face what Harry’s statement really meant. She hadn’t been that obvious, had she? She hadn’t thought so. She was pretty sure that she’d only let herself stare at him longingly when he wasn’t looking, but apparently Harry had eyes on the side of his head now. She could feel her body beginning to flush, the heat working it’s way up from her chest to her cheeks. Suddenly her cozy jumper felt suffocating and she worked quickly to remove her scarf that felt like it was strangling her. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she got out hoarsely, clearing her throat. There, that was fine. Denial was better than making a fool out of herself. 

Harry sighed. “Love…”

“Yeah?” she asked, finally chancing a glance up at him. The soft look on her face took her aback for a moment, and she blinked at the shock of seeing him look like how she was sure she looked when she stared at him. 

“I look at yeh the same way. You’re just too busy making sure I don’t see you to notice it.”

I am open to any requests! Just drop by my ask or my messages :) xx

[wildroseofarran]

Hanging Up || Gralloway & Xavier

MJ: Peter's phone rings. It's a number that hasn't called him in some months.

Pete: Pete's brow furrows as he hears his phone. His American phone. Hadn't he turned it off?

He moved his omelet off the stove and went to answer, stomach sinking when he saw the familiar number on the display. Why would....?

He picked up. ".....Hello?"

MJ: The other end was fairly quiet, save the soft crunch of gravel under boots. Nighttime, of course.

And then there was a breath. MJ was breathing.

"Hey, baby."

Pete: Pete closed his eyes. This was the last thing he'd expected today or....ever.

"Hi," he said softly.

MJ: "So I got kicked outta The Brig," he laughed weakly. "Funny. They call it The Brig like those warship prisons, or is it like, a brig like the actual boat thing? There's a boat called that, right?"

Pete: ....Well okay then. "They named it after the prisons on ships, yeah. It was meant to be a pirate bar so..."

MJ: "That big bitch that found us that... that last time, he works there, apparently. Practically picked me up by my belt. Go fuckin' figure."

Pete: "I know. He told me." As far as what happened that night, he had devoted considerable energy to forgetting it ever happened. And he still didn't know why exactly Tane Lukela had interfered on his behalf.

MJ: "N'I thought Guildias was big." Something was swigged in North Carolina, thrown at a tree. "Big fuckin' bitches. Everyone's so fuckin' tall 'round here."

Pete: He frowned. Had that been glass breaking? What was MJ doing breaking glass and talking about tall people out of nowh.....oh.

"Not everyone. Are you drunk?"

MJ: "Maybe I am, maybe I ain't. Is this the Spanish inquisition?"

Pete: That was a yes. "MJ....I..." He sighed.

MJ: "Why, Pete?"

Pete: "I can't do this right now. Not when you're...I just can't."

MJ: "I love ya. I love ya so much I hate ya. Ya...fuckin' asshole. How's that even possible?"

Pete: Tears wanted to come; they were viciously fought back. "I'm not doing this with you while you're drunk, MJ."

MJ: "Ya ain't gonna do it with me ever! Ya cheated on me! Now you're off t'god knows where n'I guess that's okay because I mean anything's better than bein' here with vamps and ghouls and ME!" There was a scuffle in the gravel; he'd turned sharply to face someone.

"No, ya can't have the fuckin' phone. Fuck off."

Pete/Xavier: "You don't even fucking LIVE TH--goddammit!" No, he wasn't going to get roped into this. He wasn't going to have this conversation that way.

"Bleeding hell, MJ," Xavier muttered, reaching for the phone. "Give it to me."

MJ: The phone was held up until he realized Xavier was taller. It was then held behind his back. "No! You're too tall, too!"

Xavier: "Yes I am, now be a good lad and give me the phone!"

MJ: "I ain't hurtin' nobody. Why ain't ya home snoggin' that hunter kid? Go home."

Pete/Xavier: "I'm sure your ex-boyfriend there would disagree with that statement. You're going to give me the phone and then we're leaving."

Meanwhile, Pete was on the other end confused to hell and back. Whose voice was that?

MJ: "Just 'cause ya - no. Want it? Eh? Want the phone?" There was suddenly a brick wall between the two of them, and the Ravnos was hauling ass in the opposite direction. "Demons are so nosy," he said to the phone.

Pete/Xavier: The wall caught Xavier off guard enough that MJ had gotten a few seconds' head start before he gathered his wits and followed. "MJ! I know you know what I am! Get back here!"

"What the hell is going on?" Pete demanded. "Demon? What demon?"

MJ: "My demon! Ain't it somethin'? I got a demon chasin' me! What cha think of that, Pete? Ever met one? They stink! Ya stink, X!"

Pete/Xavier: Pete's eyes widened. "MJ, what the hell!"

"MJ! Don't make me snatch that phone away!"

MJ: "Where ya think I've been stayin' when I wasn't with ya? Did ya even consider or were ya too wrapped up in some - ya know, that ain't fair." MJ had slowed to a brisk gait. He was looking for an out. A building to climb, a tree, something.

Pete/Xavier: "You're staying with a demon? What the hell is wrong with you?!" Pete scrubbed his hand over his face. "You're damn right it's not fair."

Xavier's patience well was just about dry. "You have three seconds to hang up."

MJ: "I ain't hangin' up! Why are ya here? I said drop me off, not stalk me!"

Xavier: "Fine, then I'm hanging up for you." Xavier snapped his fingers, summoning the phone into his free hand.

MJ: "HEY! Give me Pete back!"

Pete/Xavier: "I warned you!" Xavier poofed himself all the way back to the brick wall before seeing to the matter at hand.

"Are you still there, Mr. Graham?"

"I-I...yes."

"My apologies for this."

MJ: The brick wall began to light, becoming bright and obnoxious like an artificial spotlight. It was just to annoy the demon as the vampire raced back.

MJ: "Give it back, Xavier."

Pete/Xavier: Pete blinked. What was the appropriate response when a demon apologized on your ex's behalf? "Um...it's okay."

"It isn't but I admire your manners. No," he added to MJ over his shoulder, vanishing the wall with an absent wave of his hand.

MJ: Goddammit. If only Xavier were fae. Fuck it. What did he have to lose? With a growl, the vampire jumped onto the demon's shoulders. "Gimmie!"

Xavier: And Xavier was caught off guard for the second time in the span of five minutes. If he'd been human, he probably would've toppled over.

"No!" He held the phone out of MJ's reach. "This is for your own good!"

MJ: "Ya don't get t'tell me what's for my own good, Sulfur boy!"

MJ: Reeeeach. "Pete! Tell him t'give the phone back!"

Pete/Xavier: You'll never reach it, MJ. Xavier's arms are longer than yours. "I do when you're acting like a drunken fool!"

For his part, Pete was too confused and speechless to say anything useful. All he could do at the moment was listen.

MJ: "I ain't drunk!" said the liar.

Xavier: "You smell worse than The Brig!"

MJ: "S'cause that big bitch grabbed me! He smelled like a brewery!"

Xavier: "You smelled like one before he grabbed you!"

MJ: "How would ya know?!"

Xavier: "Because the stench is oozing out of you! Now get off!"

MJ: "No!" The phone began to heat in his hand.

Xavier: Oh yeah? Well now it was floating. Take that!

MJ: "UGH!"

Xavier: "That's what you get for defying a demon. Hang up, Mr. Graham!" was added to Pete in a shout. "And again, my apologies for the disruption!"

MJ: "Hey! Ya don't get t'tell Pete what t'do!"

Pete: The suggestion was welcome to Pete. He was just starting to feel like a person again and he couldn't...he couldn't.

"I'm sorry, MJ, but I have to...I'm sorry." He hung up.

MJ: Hearing the familiar beep of a disconnected call did something to MJ's chest. It was the near equivalent of a steak to his heart. He was seeing pink, then he was seeing red.

"Ya fuckin' asshole!" Getting to his feet, it was time to throw punches.

Xavier: Xavier sighed in relief. At least someone listened to him. Now it was time to deal with the vampire he'd enraged.

He allowed MJ to get one punch in without retaliation before poofing out of his reach, rubbing whatever spot had been hit. "Satisfied?"

MJ: His hands were shaking, his breath stuttered. His punching bag was gone. There was nothing left but his own pain, knuckles immediately healing from decking Xavier's back. The Ravnos crouched on the side of the dirt road, hid his head inside his jacket and wept.

Xavier: He sighed again, giving MJ a few moments of peace before moving over to sit next to him. The vampire might not believe him, but Xavier knew exactly how he felt. His love life hadn't always been sunshine and rainbows.

"Forgive me, but it really is for the best, MJ," he said quietly, sincerely. "That wasn't the way."

MJ: "There ain't no way. He lied t'me, he left me. Ain't nothin' best. Ain't nothin' good."

Xavier: "Then why did you call him? What did you think that would accomplish?"

MJ: "I just wanted t'hear his voice," he sniffled. "Just...want him."

Xavier: Xavier cautiously wrapped an arm around MJ's shoulders, giving the vampire plenty of opportunity to shrug it off if the touch was unwelcome.

"I can understand that," he said, nodding. "But by calling him in this state, you made him close off."

MJ: "What's it fuckin' matter?! We ain't ever gonna be a thing again." The arm wasn't refused, but it wasn't accepted, either. Simon would find this display pathetic, and he knew it was. He couldn't help but cry. He'd held it in for months now, refusing to address the rhinoceros in the living room.

Xavier: "It matters. He could've just let his phone ring or sent your call to voicemail but he didn't. Wherever he is, he saw your number and picked up, even after weeks of not speaking to you. That means something. You mean something."

MJ could weep all he wanted; Xavier wasn't going to judge.

MJ: "Just fuckin' human curiosity or some shit, X. He's fuckin' human, they do random shit. We do random shit."

Xavier: "It would take an awful lot of curiosity to make him randomly pick up the phone after everything that's happened between you. This was something else."

MJ: "Shut up," he sniffled. "Just shut up. I don't wanna hear it. Don't give me some bullshit hope when the fact is he's still a goddamn liar."

Xavier: "I'm just stating facts, Aquaman. I've been around a long time. I know things."

MJ: "Just take me home, please."

Xavier: Xavier nodded. "As you wish." He pulled MJ in closer in lieu of asking for his hand and transported them back to the manor.

[sid71blog]

The Avengers: Square go, ye big green fud.

Some teenage aliens have stolen one of their Dad's spaceships and decided to invade Earth for a laugh, but, never having used the Sat-nav before, they were unable to locate any of the large, famous, cinematically and commercially viable American cities, and so ended up somehow landing in the North-East of Scotland, trying to pick a fight with a small village. Luckily one of the old-timers there still had his old Bat-signal from the war to signal for help, but Batman was binging on a box-set of old Eastenders episodes and couldn’t be arsed helping out (Heather Trott was a bit of a guilty wank for the fella), but he did agree that he would send the Avengers a text the next time he went for a piss break, or during a boring bit involving Ian Beale and some carrots. 

Iron Man: “Excuse me simple peasant, we are the Avengers; could you tell us where the invading aliens are please?”

Wee Tom: “Maist o’ them are doon in London ah hink; ma brither-in-law wiz doon there n’ wiz sayin’ ye canna unnerstan a word maist o’ the foreign buggers are sayin’ ti ye! Naebidy speaks English any mair! Enoch wiz right!”

Black Widow: “Um, what?”

Wee Tom: “Fuckin’ hell, you’re a tidy bint eh? Nice erse on this hoor, eh lads? Ah bet you’ve had a sly wank ower her a few times eh, ye big green cunt!”

Hulk: “HULK CONFUSED!”

Iron Man: “Thanks for your time, we’ll see if we can find someone a bit more um…understandable.”

Wee Tom: “Nae bother Metal Mickey, A’m needin’ awa hame fir a shite onyway.”

Thor: ��Let’s ask this couple of old ladies over there, hopefully they don’t speak Klingon like he did.”

Hawkeye: “Hello ladies, can you help us? We were wondering where to find the aliens.”

Aul’ Jessie: “Aye aye ma loon, fit like the day?”

Hawkeye: “Sorry?”

Aul’ Jessie: “A’m asking hoo yir deein?”

Hawkeye: “Sorry?”

Iron Man: “I think the aliens have already taken over the bodies of the locals.”

Meg: “Oh, you’re a cheeky wee hoor eh? Are ye nae sweating yir ba’s off in that hing min?”

Iron Man: “Am I sweating?”

Meg: “Aye, ye canna be comfy clankin’ aboot in that big lump o’ shite, ye’d be better in a t-shirt n’ shorts on a fine day like this.”

Iron Man: “No offence ladies, but we’re in a bit of a hurry to find the aliens and kick their asses.”

Meg: “Are you lot nae a bit aul’ to be ga’in aroon’ looking fir fights? Whit yis shid dae is tak ‘em fir a pint instead; there’s nothin’ thit canna be solved ower a pint or twelve.”

Hulk: “HULK NONPLUSSED!”

Iron Man: “It’s okay big fella, I know it’s hard to decipher, but I think I’m tuning into their quaint gibberish; they seem to think that we should go for a drink with the alien invaders instead of battling them, which is, frankly, laughably naïve.”

Aul’ Jessie: “Nivver min, drinkin’ solves a’thin! Look at Skittery Jock thone time he fell oot wi’ Dangleberry Johnston ower fa’s turn it wis tae de-grease Fat Alec; the pair o’ them were a’ set tae kick each ither’s cunts in, but Fishy Elsa managed tae convince them baith tae go tae the pub instead, n’ noo they’re the best o’ pals again. They even solved their dilemma by ganging up on young Bob Thompson and forcin’ him tae get up tae his elbas in Alec-gunk instead.”

Black Widow: “We really don’t have time for this guys, we need to find the aliens quick.”

Meg: “Calm doon quine, we cain far they are, we’re jist keepin’ yiz here fir as lang as possible so we c’n eye up this big lump o’ muscle; ye widna kick him oot o’ bed fir daein’ a watery fart on yir thigh when he wiz sleepin’, wid ye Jess?”

Aul’ Jessie: “Oooh no, efter forty years o’ burnin’ ma nostrils on the rancid guff that pumps loudly oot o’ Albert’s flabby cheeks every night, I’d happily spend a week campin’ oot in Shane MacGowan’s y-fronts jist fir five minutes wi’ this big sexy brute. Fit aboot it stud-muffin, div ye fancy makin’ an aul’ wifie’s night?”

Thor: “Are you asking me to sleep with you? No thanks, I’m…um…taken.”

Aul’ Jessie: “Ah come on, git yir big powerful hands on these pair o’ beauties!”

She undid her cardigan and jiggled her funbags from side to side, causing Hawkeye to cry out like a big GIRL when he was hit on the knee by her left one.

Hulk: “HULK NEVER GETTING AN ERECTION EVER AGAIN!”

Hawkeye: “You and me both big guy.”

Thor: “Look wenches, we are here on a very important mission, here to maybe save the lives of you and your families, so could you please just tell us where the baddies are?”

Meg: “He might be a hunka hunka burnin’ love Jessie, but he’s a stroppy shite eh? Fine, they’re probably hingin’ aboot ootside the chipper, there’s fuck all else tae dee aroon’ here.”

Iron Man: “What is a chipper, and where is it?”

Meg: “Ye dinna ken fit a chipper is? Ye hear that Jessie, Meccano-man disna ken fit a chipper is! Tae fuck wi’ goin’ tae America if they dinna even hae chip suppers! Gie me Banff ower New York any day of the week if that’s the case.”

Iron Man: “WHERE’S THE FUCKING CHIPPER!”

Aul’ Jessie: “Oooooh, SOMEONE’S getting ratty eh? Whit’s wrang, are ye coming down with a bad case o’ rusty knob? Fine then ye impatient hoor, ye go doon tae the end o’ this street, turn left at the pishy tramp, and cerry on up the brae n’ ye canna miss it on the left.”

Iron Man: “Thanks. Come on crew.”

The Avengers began to walk quickly down to the end of the street, Hawkeye limping slightly and Thor struggling to remove the chasing Meg’s hand from the front of his trousers. They came across an alcoholic lying prone in the middle of the road, and turned left. 

 They approached the chip shop at the top of the street, where they were eyed suspiciously by a group of youth hanging around outside.

  Black Widow: “Hi guys, can you tell us where the aliens are?”

  Wee shite1: “We will if ye get yir tits oot tidy!”

  Black Widow: “How about I break your face if you don’t?”

  Wee shite1: “Ye could sit on it instead, then A’ll tell ye!”

  Thor: “Look lads, we’re in a hurry here, people may be dying and desperate for our assistance, please, tell us where they are.”

  Wee shite2: “Buy us some booze fae the shop ower there then.”

  Black Widow: “What are you, twelve? I don’t think we’ll be buying you any alcohol little man.”

  Wee shite3: “Fine then, good luck findin’ the aliens withoot oor expertise then, ye gormless tourist cunts.”

  Hawkeye: “Do you want your whole village to die?”

  Wee shite4: “Couldna really gie a shite min, wi’d get off school.”

  Iron Man: “I don’t think that you’re realising the severity of the situation lads, just tell us where they are so we can save the lives of your friends and families.”

 Wee shite2: “Maist o’ them are fuds enywiy, couldna gie a shite.”

  Wee shite1: “Booze, or no deal.”    

Black Widow: “Look, I think we’re gonna have to do it or we’ll never find the aliens at this rate.”

Iron Man: “Fine then, let’s go to the shop.”

Hulk: “HULK WANT PICKLED ONION MONSTER MUNCH!”

Iron Man: “Okay big guy, we’ll get you some when we’re there.”

They walked into the local shop.

Iron Man: “Hello my good man, I don’t suppose you know where the aliens are do you?”

Shopkeeper: “Ye mean those new fowk ower at the camp sight? The hikin’ fuds?”

Iron Man: “No, we mean the aliens, y’know, from outer space.”

Shopkeeper: “Nah, nae idea min. Ye should go n’ ask Bob at 22, he cains a’hin!”

Iron Man: “Forget it, we’ll have a couple of bottles of your cheapest vodka then please.”

Shopkeeper: “Is it fir the wee shites ower there yiz wiz talkin’ tae?”

Hulk: “HULK WANT MONSTER MUNCH!”

Iron Man: “In a minute Hulk. No, it’s for our own personal use.”

Shopkeeper: “I jist wondered. It’s nae right, jist hingin’ aboot ootside nae drinkin’ at their age, they should be puking on folk’s doorsteps n’ missin’ school wi’ a hangover; it’s nae right.” 

  Black Widow: “Can you just sell us the vodka please?”

  Shopkeeper: “A’right quine, calm doon. Here, this is the cheapest pish A’ve got.”

  Iron Man: “Do you take cards?”

  Shopkeeper: “Nah, A’ dinna bother wi’ that, it’s cash only in here.”

  Iron Man: “Well the problem is that we haven’t exactly had time to get our money exchanged, we were too busy concentrating on getting over here and saving your hides from an alien invasion. How about an autograph as payment instead?”

  Shopkeeper: “Who the fuck are ye like, X Factor winners or some shite?”

 Hawkeye: “We’re the Avengers!”

  Hulk: “HULK COULD EAT A SCABBY HORSE!”

  Iron Man: “Throw a couple of packets of pickled onion Monster Munch in with the booze please. Look, I’m LOADED, and if you give us the booze n’ snacks just now, when this is all over I’ll come back and give you enough money to buy this entire village if you want.” 

  Shopkeeper: “You’ll give me eleven pounds and fourteen pence? Look, Ah ken fa’ ye are, A’m jist windin’ yiz up. Tak the booze n’ settle up efter a’hin’ is deen.”

 Iron Man: “Thank you my man, we’ll come back and settle up, I promise.”

  Hulk: “HULK HUUUUUUNNNNNGGGGRRRRRYYYYYY!”

  Iron Man: “Okay big fella, there you go. Right come on, let’s bribe those little shits.”

  They walked back to the little shits, and handed over the booze. 

  Wee shite4: “Cheers Pound Shop transformer, noo Jamesie here will tak ye tae the aliens.”

  Jamesie: “How me? C’n I nae bide n’ get pissed wi’ youse?”

  Wee shite4: “Nah, yir too young; yir Mam wid lynch me if Ah gave ye booze before ye were twelve. Noo hurry up and take them tae the aliens, n’ if yir back in good time A’ll get ye a sweetie!”

  Jamesie: “Fuck off.”

  He trudged away sulkily, with the Avengers following behind.

  Black Widow: “Eat with your mouth shut please Hulk.”

  Hawkeye: “So have you seen the aliens Jamesie?”

  Jamesie: “Aye, we were a’ hingin’ aboot doon the park playin’ fitba when they landed. They came oot n’ started comin’ the cunt, so Big Dode asked thim fir a square go n’ they shit themselves! Ah dinna ken far they’re fae but thone weapons they have are shite! They attacked the boys n’ Big Dode managed to tak them a’ on himsel, n’ they ended up hingin’ fae the goalposts by thone things that were danglin’ fae their crotches.”

  Black Widow: “What happened then?”

  Jamesie: “We a’ started takin’ the piss oot o’ thim, n’ takin’ turns tae try n’ hit thim in thir faces wi’ the ba’. Johnny got ane o’ thim a beauty right in the coupon!”       

Iron Man: “I’m starting to wonder if our services were needed here.”

Hulk: “HULK FEELS A DUMP BREWING!”

Iron Man: “You’ll just have to wait Hulk, we’re almost at the park I think.”

Jamesie: “Aye look, there they are.”

The Avengers looked over the green grass of the football pitch and saw four purple aliens hanging uncomfortably from the goalposts by stretched and bruised looking appendages. Some youths were standing around them, throwing chips at them.

Hawkeye: “Hey! Leave them be!”

Youth1: “Fuck off, we were here first!”

Iron Man: “We’re the Avengers, and we say back off.”

Youth1: “Aye Ah ken who ye are, Ah jist dinna gie a shite!”

Youth2: “Dinna suppose thone Guardians o’ The Galaxy are wi’ yiz are they? Thone Gamora wid get it!”

Youth1: “Nah, Nebula’s tidier!”

Youth2: “Thone slapheid? Fuck aff!”

Thor: “While you debate the merits of which ones would get the pleasure of your attentions the most, we need to talk to these visitors and ascertain what they want on Earth, so please, step aside. Anyway, Black Widow is here!”

Youth3: “Ach nae offence quine, but yir nae really ma type.” 

  Youth1: “Nae yir type? You shagged Jackie the Tooth, so Ah think ye’d shag the big green cunt given half a bottle o’ vodka.”

 Youth2: “N’ she is tidy.”

 Black Widow: “Thanks, your approval means so much to me.”

  Hulk: “HULK TOUCHING CLOTH!”

Iron Man: “Not now Hulky. Now please lads, step aside.”

Youth3: “Is it only you four that are comin’ like? Far’s the rest?”

Hawkeye: “It’s trade’s fortnight back home so most of our comrades have pissed off to Magaluf for a break, but we agreed to come over and help you out, for double time and days in lieu.”

  Youth2: “Aww, I like thone wee cunt, Ant-man.”

Youth3: “Spiderman’s aboot oor age, we could hiv asked him whit the flange is like in American schools.”

  Youth1: “Di ye think Big Dode could tak him?”

Youth4: “Aye, nae bother, the cunt wid be wedgied afore the introductions wir done!”

Black Widow, pushing them out of the way roughly: “Okay, I’m bored of this, out of our way!” 

Youth2: “Wisen up min! Fuckin’ hoor, Ah definitely winna be shaggin’ ye noo then!”

Black Widow: “I’ll live.”

Hulk: “HULK GOING BEHIND TREE!”

Iron Man: “Okay aliens, do you understand me?”

Alien1: “We understand YOU; these smaller humans are speaking a language that blew up Gnarfenwaaaargglefnnnpprr’’s universal translator.”

 Gnarfenwaaaargglefnnnpprr: “It was a present from my Granny too.”

Iron Man: “Don’t worry about that, it’s primitive gibberish. Now, what do you want on our planet?”

Alien2: “Well, not to spend all our time hanging in great pain from our genitals would be a start.”

Thor: “If we take you down, do we have your word that you won’t start anything?”

Youth4: “ha ha! I widna worry aboot these pathetic shites!  Efter whit A’ve seen wee Jamesie could rule their planet armed wi’ a comb and a three-day old kipper. Thir pussies min!”

Alien1: “We weren’t ready! You sucker-punched us! Let us down and we’ll show you how tough we are!”

Youth3: “Oh aye, act hard noo in front o’ the tidy bint! You were the anes that started it, comin’ oot o’ yir machine and barkin’ orders aboot like yir fuckin’ Emperor Ming.”

Youth1: “Mair like Emperor mingin’ the wiy he shit himsel’ when Dode started poundin’ intae ‘im!”

Alien2: “Could you PLEASE let us down, I wouldn’t mind being able to have children at some point in my life, and if I hang like this any longer there’s not much chance of that happening.”

 Iron Man: “Okay, get them down.”

 Thor: “Who died and made you boss?”

 Youth1: “Aye, you tell ‘im Thor; efter a’ you are an actual GOD, so you should be runnin’ hings, he’s jist some cunt wi’ loads o’ points on his Halfords loyalty card.”

 Iron Man: “Okay, let’s ALL get them down then.”

 The Avengers (minus a shitting Hulk) helped the groaning aliens down from the goalposts, and laid them down on the grass.

 Gnarfenwaaaargglefnnnpprr: “Thank you so much.”

 Iron Man: “No problem Gna…pal.”

 Youth3: “Aw, see, he musta got a hert fae the Wizard o’ Oz efter a’.”

 Black Widow: “So why are you here?”

 Gnarfenwaaaargglefnnnpprr: “Summat to do; our home planet is incredibly boring for us young ones. We are such a highly-evolved race that most of the adults just sit around pontificating on matters intellectual and denigrating the more primitive planets like Earth all day.”  

Alien 4: “We don’t though, we’re always sticking up for Earth and telling everyone how cool you are, aren’t we lads?”

 Gnarfenwaaaargglefnnnpprr: “Oh yes, we’re always bigging you up! We’re always trying to show them how great Earth is, and the fantastic contributions you could make to the universe if we opened up to you, but those old squares won’t listen.”

  Alien 4: “Remember that time we tried to show them the majesty of Steven Segal? Nothing.”

  Youth1: “They’re jist speakin’ shit tae try n’ butter yiz up! Dinna listen ti thir shite!”

Alien 1: “No it’s true! Why do you think we came here? Bkkkkkkkkkkkkkfortesqueummmmbafoato managed to get tickets on the internet for Shania Twain’s concert tonight, but we got a bit lost trying to find the venue. We love your culture.”

Black Widow: “They like Shania Twain? Maybe we should string them back up.”

 Bkkkkkkkkkkkkkfortesqueummmmbafoato: “No way! Shania rocks!”

A reasonably-sized stone whacked Bkkkkkkkkkkkkkfortesqueummmmbafoato straight between his large, saucer eyes.

Bkkkkkkkkkkkkkfortesqueummmmbafoato: “OWWWW!”

Black Widow: “Thanks little shit.”

Youth 2: “No problems bint.”

Thor: “So you’re saying that you’re no threat to our planet then?”

Youth 3: “Well maybe if they take over our radio stations they might be.” 

Gnarfenwaaaargglefnnnpprr: “We are no threat whatsoever, we’re just youngsters doing what youngsters do: pissing about.”

Thor: “So if we let you go you will go back into your spaceship and be on your merry way?”

Alien 4: “Definitely, we’ve had enough of this place…”

Alien 1, muttering under his breath: “This place is getting a really shitty review on Trip-advisor once I get home.”

Youth 2: “Ah heard that, ye prick!”

Youth 1: “Maybe we dinna WANT tae let yiz go hame, maybe we’re gonna keep ye here fir the crack.”

Iron Man: “Now now guys, we don’t want to start an intergalactic incident; if these youngsters go missing then their parents and their armies might come looking for them.”

Youth 3: “Fuck ‘em, we’ve got Big Dode.”

Hulk, from somewhere in the distance: “HAS ANYONE GOT A PAPER?”

Iron Man, ignoring him: “We really don’t want to piss off another planet guys, we’ve enough on our plates at the moment.”  

Youth 3: “Ah come on, we could dee wi’ some excitement ‘roon’ here. Let them come n’ we c’n hae a square go wi’ the pricks.”

Black Widow: “That’s not going to be happening children.”

Iron Man: “Okay, you’re free to go, sorry for any unpleasantness you experienced on our planet; not everyone here is like these reprobates.”

Youth2: “Fuck off fud.”

The aliens get up from the ground and walk to their spaceship, clicking on the immobiliser as they do so.

Black Widow: “Don’t be strangers! Come back any ti…what’s that smell? Holy shit! It’s a trap! They must have released a powerful gas when they pressed their immobiliser!”

Thor, falling to the floor, retching: “Shit…I can feel…myself…passing out…”

Iron Man, down on his hands and knees: “Hawkeye…talk to me…Hawkeye…he’s out for the…count…my eyes…are…burning…lungs…on…fire…can’t…take…much…more…”

Gnarfenwaaaargglefnnnpprr, shouting from the spaceship window: “Nowt to do with us, look towards the epicentre of all that dead grass. See ya.”

The Avengers, with great effort, dragged themselves around and saw that the ground all around them was all of a sudden barren and scorched, the charred remains of dead birds and insects scattered all over. Out of the glowing distance walked a large, green monster of a man, zipping up his flies.

Hulk: “I’D GIVE IT FIVE MINUTES IF I WAS YOU!”