#i'm saying we and our because although i don't draw- i write occasionally and i catch myself speaking negatively about my work

[kulemii]

man, artists will be like "sorry to blind you with my terrible sketch. i'm such a horrible artist but here ya go" and then they'll whip out the most beautiful, diligently planned piece of art you've ever had the privilege of laying eyes upon. bitch, i will kiss your hands rn if you don't shut up

[hollythehills]

Chapter One: Running On Carbs

First Fanfic guysss <3

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It was quiet. As usual.

You mean. You would hope so, right? It is a library after all. But there weren't many people there and although you enjoyed sharing your love of literature with other people you had to admit you liked it like this. There were no children running amuck, parents leaving them here in hopes that some poor librarian will feel bad enough to watch over them, or maybe even hoping that the child will sit down and read a book. There were a couple of teenagers out and about but they were always quiet, too afraid of drawing any attention to themselves. You tried your best to make sure they especially felt at home here, because this was your safe space when you were their age. Probably why you work here now.

But you're not complaining. After all, you were getting paid to read a majority of your day now that you mostly work front desk. Sure you have to deal with the occasional missing book or library card, or angry parent (always for the worst reasons, one time a lady came in demanding why you kept a copy of Catcher in the Rye, as if you specifically had any say in what the library did and did not carry), but all in all it was a nice gig. At that moment you were reading some fantasy trilogy that was just another euphemism for racism without actually including racism, a hierarchy within a hierarchy. But the writing style was easy to follow and refreshing so are you really to blame for becoming so immersed in your novel?

Unfortunately yes. The cough in front of you seems incredibly adamant on getting your attention. You look up from your book ready to help and are met with the gaze of...

Well actually it took you a second to realize you were actually meeting the gaze of anything. Instead of eyes you were met with eyesockets which would be surprising if not for the skeleton they were attached to.

Your eyes widened trying to take in the sight. The skeleton was incredibly tall and wore a beanie. He had on a sweater and some type of gardening pants. He kind of loomed over you in a way, he didn't seem to be trying to intimidate you, but he was absolutely having the affect.

You rose your chin and put on your best customer-service smile, "Hello, sir. How may I help you?", your voice carried to the skeleton clearly, without a hint of a waver.

Wordlessly, the skeleton placed a book on the counter and nodded to it. You caught the cover and it seemed to be a cookbook. You cocked your head, waiting for some kind of clarification. You hadn't ever seen this skeleton here but you assumed he had been here before with how confidently he walked to the counter. Perhaps he was mute, you thought.

You asked carefully, "Do you have a library card, sir?"

There was a pause before he cocked his head. Almost like a puppy. You were about to ask again before he finally spoke, "no."

There was another pause where you waited a moment for him to say more, but he didn't. He had an incredibly deep voice that reverberated through the small corner counter that you sat at and although it puzzled you that someone who probably didn't have vocal cords was talking you nodded and pulled out the forms from the shelf next to you.

"I can get a card set up for you. I'll just need your name and email."

The skeleton stared again, looking down at you from his spot in front of the counter. He seemed confused again so you explained, "The name is for our system, just so we have a clue about what person has what book." You looked up from the form, "If you want I can use a nickname, it doesn't really have to be your 'legal name'," you used air quotes, "and I promise I'm not a snitch." Your lips curled into a natural smile and the skeleton seemed to relax a bit, though he still seemed on edge. His hands were in the pockets of his rough pants, which made him seem even bigger than he was, almost puffed up in a way. Finally after a moment he said quietly, "don't have an email."

Oh.

"Oh." You said, very intelligently, "That's no problem, if you'd like I can put a phone number in the system too. Or we can set up an email now if I could help with that."

He nodded gruffly, muttering a thanks while you waved him into a room behind the counter. The room was open to the rest of the library, but it was a little more private and you figured the skeleton would like that better than the open counter. He followed and watched as you got up from your chair. He eyelights followed you to the doorway and he trailed behind you, careful to keep a bit of a distance.

"Alright," you sat down with a huff and a flinch at the dull sting in your lower back, it was sore from your mattress (which was beginning to show springs on the outside instead of the inside), you needed to get it replaced but you didn't have the funds for that right now. He seemed to notice with how he eyed you warily, and you quickly tried to wave his concern away, "Oh don't worry about me. Bad back."

He nodded, seeming to understand. It surprised you that he didn't ask any questions, though it shouldn't have considering he's said less than ten words the entire conversation. Maybe it was only because you were so used to the looks and the questions. It was probably a human thing, the nosiness. Heh. Nose. Skeleton.

"Alright," you repeated, shaking that line of thought away. "Do you have a phone with you?"

He raised his brow bone but nodded, "yeah."

"Cool, so open an internet browser and go to..."

The whole ordeal took about fifteen minutes, only because the skeleton, who you knew was named Oak now, didn't seem to completely grasp the whole technology thing. But you get it, technology on the surface is pretty different than the underground so you didn't make a big deal about it.

You led him to the desk to finally check out the books and after you do he stops for a moment.

"hey, uh. I just." He looks at the books and nods, "thanks. for all the help." He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn't and you smile.

"'Course, hon. Glad to help."

That was the first time you saw him.

But it was not the first time he saw you.

He had been watching from afar. At first it wasn't on purpose. He saw you on the other end of the bread isle at the grocers that he frequented. That became his favorite grocers, because it seemed to be yours. He didn't know what it was about you. At first. He just assumed that he liked you physically. The way your arms looked like they knew how to kneed bread (something he had been doing a lot of lately, since he finally had the time), the way your nose was just a little too big to support those glasses you always wore so that they sat on the very edge. Your legs were big, strong. But they still had a jiggle to them. He knew you really liked bread, he saw you in a bakery once and he thinks he actually saw your eyes sparkle staring at all of the baked goods. He tried it the same day, a couple hours after you left. It wasn't creepy, he said to himself. It was just curiosity. The sour dough there was fine. He knew he could do better.

He found himself constantly thinking about you. Not in an obsessive way, it was very casual. When he was baking he wondered if you would enjoy the cupcakes or the macaroons or the banana bread he was making. During game night he thought about whether you were competitive or not. He hoped you were. Because he wasn't and playing was only fun if someone playing the game was actually trying to win.

When he was out with his brother he spotted you in a cafe. You were in a booth that would've perfectly fit him and his brother too. He convinced Poplar to come into the cafe with him, even though it was a little too crowded for his taste. There weren't a lot of people, but humans tended to stare at him and his brother, maybe because they looked a little menacing, o maybe just because they were monsters he could never really tell. He knew he and his brother were definitely tall, compared to humans. So that could be the reason. But to believe that it were the only reason is naive, he told himself. And he was anything but that.

He ordered a red eye, he didn't know what that was but...c'mon. It's pretty funny. The kid taking his order smiled when he said it, he was glad someone appreciated the joke because his brother surely didn't.

"Sans Please, We Are In Public." His brother huffed but there was a hint of a grin on his skull that Oak saw clearly. He chuckled gruffly and went to sit at a table that had a good view of you. You were cuddled into your booth, a book in one hand with your fingers wrapped around a mug in the other. The drink seemed to be very light in color and the empty sugar packets on the table told him that you liked your coffee sweet. He laughed a bit in his head, how funny is it that he baked all of these sweet things and doesn't like sweets. And here you are. A solution to that problem. It was funny, but just a thought, he told himself. You were just a little crush. He had heard people call it a 'hallway crush', when you see someone around you think is really attractive. And then you keep seeing them around, and now you know all of this stuff about them and you can't really do anything with it but you really want to get to know them better but you cant really work up the courage to just go up to them and say hi so. Yeah. A predicament.

Poplar nudged him. He sat across him in the booth, but because the booth is against the opposite wall from where you were sitting they both have full sight of you. Which means Poplar definitely saw his staring at you.

"She's Cute." He grinned at Oak, his eye-lights twinkling behind his thick glasses. Now that he was looking, Oak saw that his brothers glasses were really similar to yours, though yours were thinner than Poplar's. Oak's face dusted in a light blush, the color a rusty red. He nodded and hoped his brother would come off the topic.

He did not. "We Should Go Talk To Her."

Oak's face snapped up to meet his brother's face. That... didn't seem like a good idea. He knew that you were pretty nice for a human, but he had never seen you interact with a monster before and he did not want to run the risk of you somehow being a monster hater. What if you were a complete bigot? He had no way of knowing. All he knew was that you liked coffee and bread. He was sure bigots also like coffee and bread. Who didn't like coffee and bread? He eyed the book you were reading. Tales from the Cafe. Okay that wasn't a book that bigots usually read, but it wasn't unheard of. "uh. i don't know about that, bro."

Poplar did not look shocked. And that is because he wasn't. Oak was a homebody, it was very rare that he ever found interest in another person that did not live in their house. He did not have friends, and although he claimed that it didn't bother him, Poplar had the suspicion that he was a little lonelier than he led on. "Why Not? I'm Sure She'd Love Someone To Talk To Right Now." That was a lie. Poplar was almost certain that if someone had interrupted him while he was reading at a coffee shop alone, sitting a booth in a coffee shop alone, and sipping coffee alone and someone interrupted him he would be many things among perplexed. And he knew that his brother knew that. But he couldn't squander this moment of interest that he saw in him What if his brother had found a datemate? And Poplar did have to admit, you were quite attractive. He wouldn't mind seeing you around the house everyday.

Oak shook his head a little. "naw, you've got the wrong idea." His brother squinted his eyes at him. He looked away, "I mean. not completely wrong. i just recognized her from that bakery we started going to."

Poplar looked even more delighted, which Oak thought wasn't possible. He practically vibrated in his seat when he said, "Perfect! You Two Have Something In Common."

"i don't think bread is something really significant to bond over, paps."

Poplar lifted his brow bone, "Now We Both Know That Is Completely Untrue. You And Red Ended An Argument With A Focaccia."

"that was different."

Poplar looked smug, but didn't push it any further. His brother was a procrastinator, but he knew that if he really cared about something he would do it. Poplar cringed inwardly at the choice of words in his inner monologue, but he knew what he meant.

The coffee and treats arrived (coffee for Oak, treats for Poplar) and it turns out that a 'Red Eye' is just a black coffee with two shots of espresso. It was very good, Oak finished it all and hoped he wouldn't be too jittery later. His caffeine tolerance was pretty high but his anxiety was higher. He watched his brother eat the chocolate chip biscuits they bought. They looked pretty good, enough fluff and the layers looked decent. Poplar ripped off a small piece and handed it to Oak. He ate it, chewing thoughtfully. It was definitely shipped frozen, but otherwise it was fine. He nodded and Poplar smiled. Oak glanced at you. Still wrapped up in your book, but one of the baristas must have brought you some food while he was talking to Poplar because he saw a plate of three biscuits at you table. Chocolate chip.

They left before you did. You didn't see them, but they saw you.

And then Oak saw you at the library. He was only trying to find some books for his brother. It was his week to cook dinner and he wanted something different. Oak didn't see you until he was done looking through the library. You were just there. He wasn't even looking for you. But there you were, and he guessed now he knew one more thing about you. Where you worked.

You asked him for a library card. He definitely had his brother's card in his pocket. He wasn't a serious reader. But he guessed it was never too late to start.

You helped him get everything he needed, an email (which he definitely had, but now he had one especially for your place of work. you know. just in case), and he has his own library card now. He found out a couple of things that day.

One: You are definitely not a monster hater.

Two: He already kind of knew this from the cafe experience, but when you're reading you have no sense of your surroundings.

and

Three: He really liked you. And he didn't think it was just a little crush anymore.

[confessionsofa-roleplayer]

I write with many muns of the same muse. We all have great and unique threads! However... something strange seems to be happening as of late. To make this easier to understand, I will refer to them as A and B.

A is not very popular in the fandom. Not that I care (it's important to the story tho), as A i are a perfect match, writing-wise. we have this incredible and elaborate and angsty thread going on, one that the dash all seems to really love and are invested in. We get lots of compliments and it's overall good vibes.

B is the popular one. We write together occasionally and they have always been nice to me. They are in a tight knit group within the fandom, that I am not a part of but people within that group have always been kind to me.

I have begun noticing something troubling though. Everytime A and I update our elaborate thread, B makes these headcanon posts. And the headcanon posts seem to always be making declarations of their muse that contradict something A and I have written in our thread. What I'm saying is, it seems... targeted.

I don't want to jump to conclusions about it, but it's suspicious that these headcanon posts only come around when our thread updates and when it involves something that their interpretation differs from.

Obviously I don't mind that interpretations differ! That's what I love about the fandom! Everyone has a different take. But... I am kind of worried that due to A's lack of popularity, they are being singled out for their take. Because B's posts are bordering on passive aggressive sometimes, like they're appalled anyone could assume otherwise.

It's concerning to me. I think by some standards I would be considered 'popular', but I don't attach myself to any groups. Because of that I can step outside of situations, and I have noticed the grouping and how a lot of the people gassing B up in their posts don't interact with A at all.

I don't tolerate elitism, personally. And it is putting a bad taste in my mouth. But because I am wary to draw conclusions, I don't want to punish B over this by say, not replying to our threads. But I also can't help all this discomfort I am feeling by these weird headcanon posts.

Should I ask someone about this? Is there any way I can do it without hurting anyones's feelings???

This is a tough situation to work out, anon.  And I think what it probably boils down to is how much what seems to be happening is bothering you.  Because if you’re bothered by it, then something needs to be done to put your mind at ease.  However, I’m wary of advising that you talk to this person.  Although I can only get a feeling of things from your own words, the sense of clique-ish behavior from B would make me cautious if I were in your shoes.

I think you have a couple of ‘mild’ options if your not comfortable distancing yourself from B over this suspicion.

You could try posting your replies to A when it seems like B isn’t online.

You could blacklist B while you’re replying to A, so you don’t have to see any potential headcanon posts.  Or even just blacklisting them for an extended period to give yourself a breather.

You could also try commenting on the next headcanon posts that feels overly passive-aggressive.  Something like, ‘Hey, you’ve always got interesting takes on this character.  I especially liked (insert headcanon segment here) but there’s not really any harm in someone interpreting them differently. That’s part of what makes writing with different versions fun.”  Don’t focus on the headcanon itself, but that concept of ‘my interpretation is the only right one.’  

If B is making you too uncomfortable and the above solutions aren’t doable (or aren’t working) then it might be time to gently let them go.  Find a reasonable excuse to offer, and then stop replying to your threads with them.  Stay polite and kind about the situation, and (if they really do like causing problems) they shouldn’t have anything they can use against you to rile others up.

I don’t really think confronting them with your suspicions is the best option regardless of the truth of the situation.  If you’re wrong, then it will only succeed in hurting B’s feelings.  And if you’re right, what are the chances they’d admit to what they’re doing?  If they are that level of passive-aggressive, then confronting them might only make things worse.

But this is just my take.  This isn’t a situation I’ve ever been in, so maybe our followers have other suggestions/ideas for how to handle this situation?

~ Mod MJ ~

[fansofvow]

Interview with Eve Golden Woods!

Many of you know who is Eve is. She's a writer and artist, a part of Dreamfeel studios whose beautiful game If Found won Best LGBTQ Narrative and Best LGBTQ Indie game at the first ever Gayming Awards presented by EA games. I am really excited I had the chance to ask Eve some questions about herself, her time at Lovestruck and her creative process.

Congratulations on the two Gayming Awards (Best LGBTQ Narrative, Best LGBTQ Indie Game) for "If Found" from your game studio, Dreamfeel. What was the inspiration behind making the game?

If Found... was a game that emerged out of a collaboration between Llaura McGee, the founder of Dreamfeel, and artist Liadh Young. Liadh's background is as a comic artist, and so when they started working together Llaura had the idea of showing off Liadh's art by making a diary game, and using an erasing mechanic she had previously developed to let the player move through the diary in a fun way. By the time I came on board at the start of 2019, the game had already been in development for a while, so in some ways my work on that game was similar to the work I did for Voltage, because it was taking existing characters and concepts and writing a lot of scripts for them. Unlike Voltage, though, my work for Dreamfeel was a lot more collaborative and I had a lot more creative input. I really enjoy taking something and helping to make it the best version of itself that it can possibly be, but I was also really happy that I got to reflect a lot of my own experiences in If Found. Llaura and I both grew up on the west coast of Ireland, and although If Found... isn't autobiographical for either of us, it was definitely really meaningful to be able to tell a story that reflected our own experiences of growing up as queer teens in a similar kind of environment. Since the game came out we've had fans reach out to us and tell us that they also connected to the experiences of the main characters, and as far as I'm concerned, that makes me feel like I achieved everything I wanted to.

You are a writer and a visual artist. Does one come easier to you than the other?

I used to think of art and writing as talents, and I always felt like my art was at a very mediocre level (that's probably still true, lol). So when I was younger I focused a lot more on writing. It was only later that I started genuinely trying to improve as an artist, but when I did, I think I had a much healthier mindset, and approached it as a skill I could learn with patience and effort. Because of that, even though I still have a lot more confidence in my writing, I find art more fun and relaxing, and I don't stress about it as much.

Did you always know you would follow a creative path?

Kind of? Both my parents are artists, and I grew up surrounded by artists and writers, so it was something that was always very familiar and accessible to me. On the other hand, I didn't exactly have a clear idea of how to make it into a career, or what kind of work would be involved. But there's never been a point in my life where I wasn't doing something creative, even if it was only writing fanfiction.

What did your path to working professionally as a writer/artist look like?

I did a creative writing masters in college, but after that I spent years teaching English as a second language. That was really fun and I got to live abroad, but it was so busy and tiring that I didn't have time to do any writing outside of the occasional fanfic. I only started to take art seriously again when I became interested in games and comics as ways of telling stories. I did some critical writing, which led me to speak at a few local events and get involved in zine fairs. That was how I met Llaura, the director and lead of the Dreamfeel studio, and it's also what gave me the confidence to start applying for actual writing jobs.

Is there any work of art, visual or written, that you look to for inspiration?

So many! I try to read and watch as widely as I can, although there are touchstones I always return to, like the works of Ursula Le Guin and Terry Pratchett. Right now I feel very passionate about the actual play podcast Friends at the Table, which manages to combine really thoughtful worldbuilding and storytelling with cool, fun characters and great action scenes. I'm also reading a book called The Memory Police by Youko Ogawa, which has extremely beautiful prose.

Do you have a favorite piece of your own art, whether it is something you’ve drawn, a screenshot of something you’ve written or something else?

My favourite piece of art is usually whatever I finished most recently (I think that's true for a lot of people). Especially with visual art, once a bit of time has gone by you look back on it and start to notice all your mistakes, which is very annoying. But actually I do still really like the first piece of Fiona fanart I did last year. I managed to use some effects to give it a kind of nineties anime quality that I find really fun, and I think it conveys an emotion pretty effectively. That's always one of the hardest things to predict with visual art, whether the different parts will come together to create the exact mood you're looking for.

I also really like the compass I did for Bycatch. Krissy (@xekstrin) was the one who suggested filling it with fingernails, which was such a good, gross idea! As soon as I heard that I knew it was perfect and that I had to try and draw it.

Many people who read this blog know you as a writer for Lovestruck. When you look back on your time there, what stands out in your mind?

Lovestruck was very important to me when I first started because it was my first ongoing, regular, paid writing work. It gave me a lot of confidence and helped me to get into the habit of writing consistently and rapidly, which is a really useful skill to have. I know I was right to leave when I did, though, because I am just brimming with energy to work on my own projects, and channeling that power into something that you can't control will always end up disappointing you. Also, I made a ton of incredible friends, through Lovestruck itself but then even more so through VOW (@vowtogether), and that is more than worth all the difficult parts.

Is there any character that you would have liked a crack at writing?

Oh gosh, what a fun question! There are so many, but one I do sometimes think about is Axia, just because I know there are a bunch of fans who want her route, and because I had fun writing her as a villain in Zain's route. I can see in my head the shadow of a storyline that takes place after Zain's route is over, where she's in prison and trying to understand how she lost the battle with Zain and MC. I think there's, like, a gap there, where you could see her downfall forcing her to reconsider her assumptions about power, and that could build into a very interesting redemption story. But maybe it's for the best I never got to do that, because I would have wanted full creative control over it, and also I think the story in my head is very different to the sexy, in control, menacing version of Axia that her fans enjoy.

Do you have any upcoming projects you can talk about?

Most of my current work is under NDA, but I will say that I'm doing something very exciting with other VOW members that we should be able to talk about soon(ish). Maybe I can even give a little teaser... It's not a game, but it is something you can read, and my part involves cakes, swamps, and a museum.

Do you have a favorite quote or song lyric?

It's a big long, but there's a section from The Dispossessed by Ursula le Guin that has stayed with me ever since I read it:

"For we each of us deserve everything, every luxury that was ever piled in the tombs of the dead kings, and we each of us deserve nothing, not a mouthful of bread in hunger. Have we not eaten while another starved? Will you punish us for that? Will you reward us for the virtue of starving while others ate? No man earns punishment, no man earns reward. Free your mind of the idea of deserving, the idea of earning, and you will begin to be able to think."

It's such a profoundly radical way of imagining the world, so different to everything I was raised with, but whenever I think about it I feel like I can see something very beautiful and powerful that I hope to come closer to understanding some day.

And of course, "Solidarity forever, the union makes us strong."

I was a big fan of the show Inside the Actor’s Studio. Host James Lipton asked every single guest the same 10 concluding questions. I’ve picked 3 of them:

-What is your favorite word?

My favourite word: for sound, I like words you can really roll around on your tongue. Chthonic, alabaster, insinuation. For meaning, I think simple words that encapsulate big concepts have a kind of power to them. We use them so often we forget how big they are, how much weight they really have, but they give us the space to imagine new possibilities. Love. Freedom. Revolution.

-What is your least favorite word?

I've heard that "moist" is a lot of people's least favourite word but it doesn't actually bother me. My least favourite word is probably one where I feel like the sound doesn't match the meaning. One of the Irish words for rain is báisteach, which I feel has a much weightier and more onomatopoeic sound than rain. Rain is just very flat and uninteresting.

-What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

Oh, so many! I love history, and I think being a historian/archaeologist would be fascinating. Or something that had a physical component to it, like being a potter or a carpenter. I don't think I'd be any good, but I'd love to take the time to learn.

What would be your advice to anyone who wants to pursue a creative career?

All the work you do matters. Even the failed experiments, the things you hate when they're finished. It all helps to make you better. Also, creative career paths are often really unexpected, so chase any opportunity that seems remotely interesting. Don't work for free for anyone who can afford to pay, but work for yourself and put it somewhere. On a blog, twitter, whatever. You'd be amazed how many people get noticed and get offered opportunities because of something they made in their spare time. You'll probably have to work another job for a long time, so don't be hard on yourself if you're too tired to devote much energy to creative work. Try to make art consistently, but don't feel like that has to mean every day. Don't chase after celebrities. Make friends with your peers.

[clumsyclifford]

hello my dearest so i'm unsure if you're taking requests right now and if you're not (or just don't feel like writing this) feel absolutely free to ignore this!! anyway i would really really love to read about a spiderman kiss happening in the spiderman au 👀 i have absolutely no excuse for requesting this kinda silly thing except that i love spiderman kisses as a prompt/trope (? idk what the correct term is) and also spiderman au so bye love you loads -fiancee

hello !!! this was an absolutely inspired prompt so i am glad i finally got round to writing it thank you. also thank you @cringeycake for the editing/con crit/validation

better tags/info on ao3 but this takes place shortly after the end of the malum spidey fic and it does have a gun in it for a sec, is that something that needs a tw? well anyway now you know

read it here on ao3

-

Ashton and Calum are ten minutes from home when it starts to rain.

“Of course,” says Calum. Ashton quickly pockets his phone so it doesn’t get wet. “This is your fault.”

“How’s this my fault?”

“I don’t know, but it obviously is.” Calum’s just in a sour mood because Ashton had completely destroyed him in all three rounds of bowling. 

“Shut up,” Ashton says, rolling his eyes. The rain falls faster, cold and piercing through the thin fabric of Ashton’s t-shirt. It had been nice for most of the day, but it must have gotten overcast while they were inside. Predictably, neither of them had had the foresight to check the forecast.

“Whatever,” Ashton says. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”

“A lot of rain,” Calum says. It is a lot of rain now, coming down in buckets. Naturally the sky would choose this moment to open up. 

“A lot of rain never hurt anyone either,” Ashton points out. Which is not true, but they’re not going to catch hypothermia or anything. Probably. And it’s only ten minutes. Eight if they really get a move on. 

Calum sighs. Still, when Ashton glances over at him to make sure he’s not really upset, he can tell it’s all for show. After all, it’s only rain. A lot or a little, there’s only so much harm that comes from being soaking wet. They’re on their way back to Ashton’s anyway, where Ashton will be gracious enough to lend him the usual Green Day t-shirt and whatever hoodie Ashton himself isn’t wearing. 

They make nonsense conversation as they walk, both curled into themselves to keep warm. Apart from the occasional passing car, nobody is out and about in this weather, just the two of them in a slowly darkening neighborhood. Unease prickles at the back of Ashton’s neck. Or maybe that’s just the rain.

“Hey, you kids. Hey!”

Ashton and Calum spin around and see two figures approaching them through the downpour. The uneasy feeling returns full-force, this time accompanied by Ashton’s heart ramming against his chest as a spike of anxiety — or adrenaline? — courses through him. Next to him, Calum mutters, “Fuck, fuck, Ashton, he has a gun,” and Ashton realizes with growing panic that the bigger of the two does, in fact, have thick fingers curled around a gun.

“Stop walking,” the armed guy commands. Ashton really, really doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t think they have another choice. Something tells him flight won’t get them far, and trying to fight will just get them both shot.

They come to a halt as the figures come closer, crowding them into the alley they’ve stopped outside. Better place to die, Ashton’s horrible mind supplies. The armed guy holds up the gun and Ashton’s heart stops mid-pulse. He can’t seem to come up with any coherent thoughts, nothing that will get them out of this situation or even postpone it. Helplessness floods every inch of him, and all he can think is how awful it would be to die feeling helpless.

���Money, valuables, whatever you got,” sneers the guy not holding the gun. “If you don’t want to cooperate —”

Ashton’s prepared to say something along the lines of we’ll give you anything you want, loath though he is to be that cliché, when the gun vanishes out of Armed Thug’s hands. There’s just enough time for all four of them to blink in bewildered surprise when a far more reassuring figure appears out of nowhere, flipping both thugs onto their backs on the pavement and swiftly knocking them out. For good measure, he webs their limbs to the ground, and then he turns back to Calum and Ashton, who both stare.

“Spiderman,” Ashton says breathlessly. Luke seems just as surprised to see them.

“Ashton?” He’s on them in a flash. “Calum? Holy fuck, I didn’t realize it was you guys. Are you okay? Did they take anything from you? Are either of you hurt?”

“We — we’re okay,” Calum says, looking a little dumbstruck. “Thanks.”

“What the fuck are you guys doing out right now?”

“Just walking home,” Ashton says defensively. “We went bowling.” He inhales deeply, trying to get his heart rate back to normal. The shock is still coursing through his veins, though the relief flooding him is helping him regain his balance. 

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Fine, they didn’t do anything,” Ashton says. Shaken, but ultimately unhurt. “Uh, good thing you were here.” He quirks his lips. “Our hero.”

“Thank fucking God I was.” Luke shifts on his feet. “Well. Okay. If you’re sure you’re okay.” He shoots a web to the roof of one of the buildings enclosing the alley — how do those stick even in the rain? — and leaps up into the air like he’s going to go. Ashton frowns.

“Hey, don’t just leave,” he says. “I haven’t heard from you all day.”

Luke hangs from the web upside down, possibly flexing, and says, “Sorry, sorry, I know. Been very busy. Lots of crime. You know how it is.”

“Did you take any breaks?”

“Of course I did,” Luke says, offended. “I had a churro. It was delicious. Just didn’t have time to stop at home.”

He leaves his phone at home when he’s on patrol — that must be why he’s been MIA. Ashton really doesn’t like that, even if he understands. It’s just. He hates that something could happen to Luke and he’d have no way of knowing. They won’t let Ashton be on comms, even for moral support — Michael claims he’ll only be a distraction, and while Ashton’s not sure if that’s true, he’s definitely not practical enough to be helpful in any Spiderman-related situation. Unless Spiderman happened to encounter evil watercolors or something.

“Okay, well.” Ashton sighs. “I just. Worry.”

“Tell me about it,” Luke says, though from the smile in his voice, it’s clear he’s teasing. “There’s no room in your brain for anything else at this point.”

“Alright, don’t feel like you need to stay and chat, Spidey,” Ashton loudly announces, talking over Luke’s contagious giggles.

“Don’t be like that,” Luke says, reaching for Ashton. His fingers close around Ashton’s drenched shirt and Ashton allows himself to be pulled closer, as Luke tugs the bottom of the mask up so only his mouth and chin are visible. He’s stopped wearing the lip ring underneath it, much to Ashton’s chagrin.

As Luke tugs Ashton into a kiss, Ashton decides he can’t complain.

The rain makes their mouths slick, and it’s strange enough kissing someone who’s upside down that it’s a little difficult to get lost in it. Ashton’s smiling before he can stop himself, the taste of rainwater mixing with the familiar taste of Luke. He’s never really tasted rainwater. Or kissed anyone in the rain. His heart’s still beating hard, but now it’s for a different reason.

“Um? What the fuck is going on right now?”

Ashton breaks away from Luke, who flips over and lands on his feet. They both face Calum, who looks more confused than the time Ashton tried to teach him to draw three-dimensional shapes.

“Kissing my boyfriend,” Luke says. 

“Your? What? You — I thought?” 

Ashton takes in Calum’s face and tone of voice and puts two and two together. “Oh my God,” he says, wincing. “You didn’t know.”

“Know what?” Calum demands. “That you’re — what — I don’t even know what to think.” Although that quickly changes with his expression, which becomes more incredulous as he reaches a conclusion. “No, never mind. I’ve got it. If that’s not Luke under there, you and I are going to have a very serious talk.”

“It’s Luke, I’m Luke,” Luke says quickly, pulling the mask the rest of the way off — though not without a quick glance to each side. Upon reflection, he shoots a web towards each fallen thug, giving them both very fashionable web-masks that cover their eyes. “Though let’s maybe not throw my name around.”

Calum stands and stares. Ashton remembers when that had been his reaction.

“Don’t fucking expose yourself in public on my behalf,” Calum says finally, gesturing. “Put the mask back on, Christ. I’m not— I’m— I just need a minute.”

“I told Ashton he could tell you,” Luke says as he pulls the mask back on. “Ashton, you didn’t tell him?”

“I thought Michael would have!”

“You don't think if he had, I wouldn’t have immediately called you to make fun of you for spending weeks pining after both Luke and Spiderman only to find they were the same fucking person? And that, oh yeah, your boyfriend's fucking Spiderman?” In his indignance, Calum’s gotten louder.

“Shh,” Ashton says, glaring meaningfully. “I know he is. That’s a secret.”

“From me?”

“No, okay, I meant to tell you,” Ashton says, dragging a hand through sopping wet hair. “I was trying to figure out how, but then Luke said he told Michael and I we could tell you, and I thought Michael would do it. Because he’s your boyfriend and he’s known Luke way longer. And then, I don’t know.” 

Maybe a part of him had hoped Michael would tell Calum. If only to avoid the mockery Ashton knows he’ll be subject to in coming days regarding his emotional crisis over Luke and Spiderman. 

“I hate you more than I’ve ever hated you,” Calum informs Ashton, although he’s never really hated Ashton, so that’s not a very high bar. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Yes! I swear.”

“I thought you already knew,” Luke volunteers. “Damn, Ash, good thing I kissed you or Calum would never have found out.”

“Shut up,” Ashton says, rolling his eyes. “Look, Calum — I’m sorry. This was, uh, not a great way to find out.”

“Yeah, no fucking shit,” Calum mutters. His lips pull upward in a smile far too dry for the weather, and finally he laughs. The hilarity of the whole situation catches up with all of them, and before long the three of them are howling with laughter as rain comes down in sheets, encasing them in a chill that Ashton barely feels.

“This is all so fucking insane,” Calum manages, wiping at his eyes. He’s still squinting through the rain. “I can’t believe I’ve been friends with Spiderman all this time. What the fuck is my life? What is our life? You’re dating Spiderman, Ashton. Do you know that?”

“What fucking part of secret identity do you not understand?” Ashton says. “Stop exposing all of his secrets.”

“You just kissed in the middle of the alley!”

That’s fair. They did just do that. In Ashton’s defense, though, Luke started it. Ashton is merely a victim to Luke’s whims. Shenanigans. Whatever. 

“I was just trying to save some lives,” Luke says, shaking his head ruefully. “My Spidey-sense was tingling.”

“I hate when you say that.”

“Spidey-Meter, would you prefer that? Spider Radar? Spider Scale?”

“Just call it intuition.”

“It’s more than intuition,” Luke insists. “You just don’t get it because you’ve never felt it.”

“Whatever you say, Spidey.”

“Well, I hate to cut this short, but it is raining a lot,” Calum says, like maybe they’ll have forgotten. “And considering I am going to see you” — with a significant look at Luke — “at school on Monday, I think we can probably catch up later.”

“Let me walk you home,” Luke says, ever the gentleman, or possibly protective. “It’s not far.”

“What are you going to do with these two?” Calum asks, jabbing a thumb at the thugs passed out in the mouth of the alley. “Leave them?”

“Uh,” Luke says. “Let me handle them. I’ll catch up to you.”

Calum tilts his head suspiciously. Ashton just starts walking, jerking his chin to get Calum to join him. “It’s fine. He’ll catch up.”

After a moment, Calum follows. They’re both soaked through, yet the rain is as relentless as ever. Calum falls into step as they start down the pavement.

“You really thought I already knew?” Calum says doubtfully. 

Ashton sighs. “Okay, I was a little tiny bit hoping that I wouldn’t have to be the one to tell you.” He inclines his head. “But I realize I dropped the ball here. I should have told you sooner. I would’ve eventually.”

Calum is quiet for a moment. “I mean, it’s fine,” he says defeatedly. “When did he even tell you?”

“Um, the day before Luke and I started dating,” Ashton says. “Originally we really were keeping it from you, but then Luke realized that wasn’t going to fly with, you know. How important you are in my life. And Michael’s, I guess.”

“Don’t try to flatter me into forgiveness,” Calum says. Ashton snorts.

“That’s literally what happened, though. And then I was trying to figure out what would be the best way to tell you, because, uh, it’s kind of insane? And then Luke told me that he told Michael that Michael could tell you — God, I feel like a twelve-year-old girl — and I kinda thought I would let Michael do it. Which was a bad move on my part. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Calum says again. “I don’t really care. Like, I get it. Yeah. It’s kind of insane. And I don’t know Luke as well as you or Michael, so.”

“But I’m glad you know now,” Ashton says firmly. “Sorry you had to find out like this, but I’m happy that you know. I’m sure I’d have said something stupid sooner or later and you would’ve figured it out.”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, this makes a lot of things make sense,” Calum says. He huffs a laugh. “My God, Ashton, I can’t believe you genuinely had a crush on the same boy twice without knowing it was the same boy. Your life.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Anything else you want to tell me while you’re at it? Anything you conveniently neglected to mention?”

“Yeah, actually, one thing. I’m also a superhero, completely forgot to say —”

“Oh, fuck off.”

 Ashton laughs, clapping a hand onto Calum’s shoulder. A wry smile overtakes Calum’s face, chuckling despite his best efforts, and Ashton knows they’re okay.

“Hey,” says Luke, dropping down beside the pair of them. 

Calum jerks. “Motherfucker. Don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” Luke says. If it were just Luke as himself, Ashton would take his hand, but this Luke is still Spiderman, so Ashton dutifully keeps his hands to himself, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his fingers underneath his arms in hopes of preserving some warmth.

It doesn’t work. “You’re shivering,” Luke tells Ashton. 

“I know that,” Ashton says. “It’s cold. I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s raining.”

“If only we’d remembered to bring our supersuits from home,” Calum dryly contributes.

Luke makes a face at them both. “You guys are so funny, you know that?”

“Thank you,” Calum says. “You’re also funny. But, you know. Looks aren’t everything.”

A pause as Luke processes this. Finally: “Hey!”

Ashton laughs. “Just wait, he’ll make the same joke until you stop setting it up for him.” Something Ashton had learned the hard way.

They chat amicably until they reach Ashton’s building, at which point Luke says, “I better go.” It’d be nice to get a kiss goodbye, but Ashton figures they’ve already pushed their luck on the kissing front. Luke backs away from them, shooting a web up at the roof. “I’ll see you on Monday. Call you tonight, Ash.”

“You better.”

“And will you please tell Michael to call me as well?” Calum says, crossing his arms. “Unless he’s giving me the silent treatment.”

“No, he dropped his phone in the sink,” Luke snickers. “So it’s been in rice all day.”

Of course he did. For someone who’s virtually a genius, Michael sure does have an idiotic streak. He’s a lot like Calum in that way.

“Thanks for walking us home,” Ashton says, smiling fondly. “And, you know, saving our lives.”

“All in a day’s work,” Luke says, warmth bleeding into his voice. “See you guys later. Be safe. Stay warm. You know.”

 Between one blink and the next, he’s gone.

“‘Stay warm,’” Calum echoes disdainfully, looking up at the roof onto which Luke had disappeared. “Do you think he knows that human clothes don’t retain heat the way superhero suits do?”

Ashton laughs and follows Calum into the lobby.

[outcast-thingz]

Hello my lovelies! I am here today with more content for you🥰 Honestly I cried while writing this this was suppose to be am angst to fluff but it's mostly angst, I'm sorry. Another note, I'm on the road starting today so this may have grammatical errors. When we stop at a hotel tonight I'll fix that.(title may change...)

Request:Could I request something angsts and fluffy for Benimaru from fire force? I’m sorry I can’t give anymore detail- my mind is literally blank 😬😂

Pairing: Reader x Benimaru

Summary: You found out your younger brother is turning innocent people into infernos and use them as his army. It seems all your worst fears are coming true as you run to your closest friend and love your life for help. Can Benimaru ever forgive you for not seeing the true nature of your brother?

Warnings: ANGST... intrusive thoughts, fluff if you really squint

Forgive Me

        Once again you find yourself arguing with your younger brother. The same old song and dance since you found out what he had been occupying his time with behind your back. He seemed more agitated today.

"You're just too naive to understand Y/n. This is for the greater good of science, of the world!!" He exclaims whilst pacing in front of his 'throne '.

"Killing innocents by turning them into infernos and trying to use them as your puppets!? You call THAT 'For the greater good'? What about all those people you sacrificed, HUH?!?" You cried with shaking clenched fists. Your brother shoots you an icey spine chilling glare which you mirror right back at him. "Those people are innocent! You ruined their life's for your personal entertainment!!! You're a horrible person, you're a mon-" in a blink of an eye you brother is behind you. You can feel the edge of his knife pressing hard against you throat; it was almost enough to draw blood.

"Finish that word and I'll make sure it's your last." He snarled. Heavy, blood-thirsty breaths blow past your ear as he spoke, "Everyone has their sins, Y/n, even the most innocent ones. Think of it as a final repent for all the wrong and evil they have done. We all have to pay for our deeds one day; I'm just being a good Samaritan and helping. Keep of this act of yours and you'll be next." Having finally had enough of this you grab a hold of his wrist and pull it away from your neck. You maneuvers the situation around so you're pinning his wrist behind his back and holding his dagger to his throat. He waits patiently knowing you'll give up. You huff and whisper angrily

"you're sick!" You chuck the dagger at the ground and storm off. As you leave you could hear his chuckle gradually turn into maniacal and hysterical laughter.

       The wall to town was hardly quiet. The closer you came to town the louder the world seemed to be. His haunting laugh echoed as the intrusive thoughts that crowded you mind grew louder. They started low but now it was as if they were screaming.

'You let him slip through you fingers'

'You failed to notice what your little brother truly was and now the world will suffer because you!'

'What? Now you're  going to run away? Run to HIM? Are you going to tattle on your own flesh and blood?'

'You don't think you're actually doing the right thing do you? Sell out your little brother to a fire force soldier? Oh that's right you don't love your sibling he's just monster to you.'

'What makes you think Benimaru is going to love you after you tell him the truth?'

'He'll think you're brother is a monster and you are too by connection'

'You're a monster'

'He'll try to exterminate your brother and fail then world will suffer and it will be all your fault'

'You're a monster, it's all your fault'

'Its all your fault, it's all your fault, it's all your fault'

'Monster'

'IT'S'

'ALL'

'YOUR' 

'FAULT!'

"ShuuuuuUUUUUUT UUUUUPPP!" You scream as you clutch your head. You scratch your scalp as you grip your hair. "Shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT! UP!" You shake your head as you cry out.

       A pair of screams pull you out of your head. You weren't aware that surrounding you was total mayhem and destruction, let alone that you had made it into town. Inferno were everywhere you looked.

'What.. what's going on?' Your eyes widen and start to tear up.

'Oh don't play dumb, you know who's behind this' the sinister thought surprised you. 

"Y/NNNNN" A familiar voice calls out, no, bellows out. You just barely feel the wind blowing past your as a flaming spear skims past your cheek.

"B-Beni?" You hesitate in disbelief of the sight before you. Was the man you love axtuslly barreling towards you with ill intent? Having to dodge another flaming spear and being hit in the shoulder by a second on brought forth the harsh reality. Your heart twists and turns creating knots as you clutch your shoulder. Benimaru, the love of your life, lands a few feet ahead of you.

"How could you do this? I thought you wanted a better world for your brother!? Is this seriously how you thought you were going to get it?" He tells.  The dust from his landing settles as he interrogates you. You can see tears roll down his cheeks,  "Y/n... I have a hard time believing you did this. Tell me- ...tell me it isn't true." The wavering tone of his voice causes a hitch in your breath and a twang of pain to hit your heart.

"I-I-" before you could explain an inferno busts through a building beside Beni. You sprint to push him out of the way of the debris. As you make your way to him you grab some nearby rubble and chuck it at the raging inferno. You chuck it as hard and with as much fire power as you could in those few seconds.

       You cough harshly as pain races throughout your body. The pain didn't matter to you, what matters is you saved Benimaru. After getting back up he scrambles by your side. He sends a few spears into the inferno finishing it off.

"Y/n! Hey, look at me. This isn't the time or place to be snoozing." He pats the side of your face and your eyes flutter open. 

"Beni… I know auh.. I know we aren't amazing close as friends but I love you. I have for a while I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same heh heh, augh…" you admit grunting from the pain occasionally. "You have to believe I would never want harm to come to you or this town. But this is my fault. Augh-" your confession is interrupted by sudden coughs. "I-.. I wasn't a good enough older sibbling. I had no idea he was capable of something like this ack- I promise, if you give me a chance I'll be good. I'll work to be better and change him, I promise Beni. Please just let me talk to him. I promise I'll help make him better, ill be good. I'll be good… I'll... be.. good." A heavy weight hits your eyes as you cry your confession and plea. Although it's fuzzy and just barely a whisper, you still manage to hear him,

"I believe you Y/n. Rest, I'll take care of your little brother."

*four days later* 

       You had woken two days after passing out. Konro breached the news of your brother passing away during a battle against a few fire soldiers and Beni who tried to intervene when he found them. Benimaru has yet to visit you while you are recovering. You feared those awful thoughts of yours were right; that  because he knows the truth he hates you. Desperately wanting to focus on something happy you convince the medics to allow you a walk. A calming stream beside you as you remember all the times you spent there with Benimaru. The few laughs you had together, and practices you begged for to better your fire power and fighting skills. You smiled watching the ghost of a memory play out before you.

"I thought I would find you here…" Bittersweet was the feeling that hit you when your heard his voice. "I'm sorry I didn't visit.. I was too ashamed to face you after failing to take care of you brother…" he confesses. You stop walking but don't dare look at him, How could you? He lets out a deep breath before speaking again, "I know that I hurt you. I know that nothing I can say will change the past. But…I’m hoping that you’ll forgive me in the end. I’m hoping that I can make this right." Tears quickly swell up in your eyes. You spin around and make eye contact with him. After a few seconds you couldn't bare it any longer and you run at him with your arms outstretched. The two of you tumble to the ground with your arms wrapped tightly around him. 

"I forgive you, just please don't leave me... I can't loose both things I love." You pleaded as he sat up. He cradles you into his arms as you sob. Slowly you cry your self to sleep with you face buried in his chest. Beni places a gentle kiss on your forehead and whispers,

"I won't… I love you Y/n"

~The End~

Taglist: @oof-she-needs-therapy @red-riot-rat @xsugarysweetsx

(Hope you don't mind me tagging you)

[the-only-villain-here-is-me]

The Aftermath

Fandom: MCU

Pairing: None

Warnings: Violence, Language, Very Very Sad.(You've Been Warned)

Note: I cried like a baby writing this because Marvel can't just let my faves be happy for once and now I'm the one making my babes sad, dark, and brooding.

Summary: After the snap, what occurs after such a catastrophic event? Will tensions rise between our heroes or will they break down their walls and invite each other in? This is the aftermath...

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The worst had happened and they were unable to stop it. With the snap of his mere fingers, the devilish Mad Titan brought half the universe to nothing more than wisps of dust.

They had searched; of course; they weren't ready to give up so soon on bringing back their loved ones.

After the snap, they gazed upon the destruction he brought about and the only corpse they had to bury; the Vision. His lifeless image stayed with them; kept some of them up at night even.

Steve had sunk to his knees in the place where his best friend; the man he had just finally regained back from the brink; had perished. He was just a pile of ashes and nothing more.

No one dared bother the mourning man, even after they lead him back to his quarters to stay. The sobs of their leader were just background fuzz to their own traumas; they were shell shocked, angry, frightened, and struggled to hold back their own tears.

Natasha threw herself back into the gym the second they walked through those doors; anyone who tried to talk with the eerily quiet assassin were met with a grunt in acknowledgement or mainly, silence; aside from the repetitous thumps of her bare, bruised and bloody knuckles against the leather bag.

They were broken; but tried their hardest to piece themselves back together. No one had been able to locate Tony in those days after the snap and they had unanimously voted to stay in Wakanda to help with the clean up; it gave them something to focus on.

Bruce blamed himself; for not being able to do more, although he knew in his heart that the Titan wouldn't have been felled by the Hulk alone. He locked himself in one of the labs, basking in the silence as he researched tirelessly ways to recover his friends. He was sure it just had to be science and he knew science. He wouldn't stop until he unlocked the truth.

Shuri would occasionally hover in the doorway, jumping in to assist wordlessly when he needed help with some variables. She would bump him out of her way gently and examine the problem, pretending for just a moment that her brother would stop by and urge her to return to her room for some much needed sleep.

She, of course; knew that wouldn't be the case and so she didn't sleep, at least until Bruce banned her from the lab.

They had gotten into quite the fight over that; tensions already high and boiling over into things that usually wouldn't matter so much.

"This is my lab; you don't get to tell me what to do!" She had screamed, a big fat lump sitting in her throat as her voice cracked on the next part, "You're not my brother!"

Bruce had apologized profusely, but she ignored him as she decided to return to her room in order to avoid speaking to anyone further.

Okoye never was far from the Princess either; although she did keep a little distance as instructed.

She felt guilty, that T'Challa had slipped through her fingers as dust as he tried to help her rise. She knew she couldn't have changed the outcome; but that didn't stop her from wanting to protect his sister with everything she could muster. Sort of as an unofficial last request to her King.

Thor had become the rock, of sorts. He still mourned his brother and friends, but his facade was much stronger; the cracks sealed with a layer of wisecracks and reassuring pats on the backs of his quiet comrades.

When he retired to his quarters, though; that was a whole other story. His dreams were plagued with the dull, emerald eyes of his mischievous brother. Every time he attempted to picture his brother back at his trickful ways, all he saw was his pale corpse devoid of any breath.

In his nightmares, he watched as Thanos squeezed the life from his brother; helpless.

"Br-rot-ther...h-help me!" Loki would choke out, his eyes pleading.

When the Mad Titan released his grip, his body would tumble to the floor like a rag doll; his limbs splayed awkwardly.

Slowly, his brother would turn to face him and with nothing but distaste in his dull eyes, would utter, "You let me die!"

Thor woke up in cold sweats after these and took to staring out the window the remainder of the night; glaring up into the stars as he plotted the slow and painful ways he would bring Thanos to his knees.

The day Tony returned, with Nebula in tow; Rocket had rushed in; hoping to see the rest of the Guardians.

"They're gone," She had deadpanned before storming off.

Bruce had pulled Tony into a bear hug when he saw the man walk in. The broken man hadn't reciprocated the action; his eyes dull and glassy; as if he was stumbling through a haze.

Steve had taken that exact moment to exit his room, his eyes still red and cheeks swollen, his lips set in an unmoving line.

They met eyes, from across the room and Steve pulled away from the intense staring match first, flicking his head to look at a spot on the wall.

"He's dead too, isn't he?" Tony had questioned, the first sentence he had let slip past his lips ever since they arrived.

Steve merely nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly.

The others steeled themselves for an outburst, their bodies rigid as they waited for the two to explode at one another after being thrown back into a still smoldering fire of anger.

Then Tony did something unexpected; he stepped forward and placed his hand on the Captain's shoulder, nodding his head slightly.

"We're going to get that purple son of a bitch, even if it's the last thing we do Cap," He muttered before taking off soundlessly down the hall to the lab to fix up his wound properly.

He met a tired Rhodey at the end of the hall, still fuming after having had spoken to General Ross.

General Ross had been spewing an angry tirade about how the Avengers had let down the world and this is not how a team acts and blah blah blah.

"With all due respect, sir; half of the team you're talking about were considered fugitives by you five minutes ago and now you want to complain that they weren't doing their jobs?" He had scoffed angrily, ending the call before he could really let the man know what he thought.

He was the only person left to deal with the hellish late night calls from pissed off U.S Government Officials who knew jack squat and it had been taking a toll. Not to mention that the press couldn't stop ringing him for juicy details about the catastrophe.

"Good to see you in one piece Tony," He chuckled at the man, pulling him into a brief one armed hug.

"Have you heard anything about Pepper?" Tony questioned him, his eyes wide in worry over the fate of his fiance.

"She's fine Tony, we got her set up in a safe house," Rhodey had murmured.

"The kid- he's gone," Tony added, his voice cracking.

"We'll get him back Tony," Rhodey had promised; knowing good and well he was in no position to be making such promises.

Two years since he had made that promise.

Things still hadn't changed.

Tony headed back to New York eventually, noting the city streets were nearly empty as he made his way down them; watching the clean up crews fixing the destruction.

He and Pepper pushed the wedding as he searched day and night for Thanos.

One such night, he found himself staring up into the sky littered with stars due to the drastic transformation of New York City's skyline due to less emission.

"Man up asshole; I want to talk!" He screamed up into the night as a cool breeze tickled his face.

The balcony remained quiet, and he had shaken his head at the half hearted try.

He should of been happy that night; when Pepper announced she was pregnant. He should of been ecstatic at the news.

He just felt, oddly empty. Thanos had taken the one thing he had longed for and turned it into runner up to getting Peter back to his distraught Aunt May.

"Morgan Parker," He offered, gazing into her eyes as tears welled up in his.

She had pulled him into a hug and he felt safe. Safe had usually taken on a new meaning for him, but this; this was safe.

Steve got himself an apartment in Brooklyn for dirt cheap with all the real estate popping up seemingly over night.

It was a one room studio; all he had was a bed, a bare kitchen, and a table with three chairs.

He had a stack of sketch pads under his bed, tucked into a rusted metal box. Page after page was filled with the images of his dead friends.

Bucky, Wanda, Sam, Vision. He was almost obsessive as he tried to draw them into beautiful scenes.

Vision and Wanda with their heads tossed back, frozen in mid-laughter. Bucky curled up in a raggedy arm chair, feet slung over the side as he read, brows furrowed; To Kill A Mockingbird. Sam rolling his eyes jokingly or paused in a sort of still as he threw a water balloon.

He refused to take them out when anyone came over; locking the box and hanging the key under his shirt, close to his heart.

Natasha came over a lot; more than anyone else had. Mainly, she visited between missions.

He would often wake up to find the woman passed out against the wall in a sitting position, snoring gently as the cuts all over her body spilled over and bruises painted her pale skin.

He would pull the blanket from his own bed and lie it over her lap, attempting to ignore her strangled cries that erupted as she slept fitfully.

She also had a lot on her plate as she helped Clint out; as Laura and Lila had perished in the snap; leaving him to care for Cooper and Nathaniel.

Clint was pissed, to say the least, that even after he retired; his old life still pulled him back in like a moth to a goddamn flame.

He couldn't exact his revenge; his kids were his number one priority. Instead, he entrusted Natasha with being his eyes, ears, and legs.

She would go out and bring him back information on Thanos, all while balancing bedtime stories and dinner time.

Clint would have envied how strong she was if he didn't know how hard she was trying to keep it together in the first place. He knew she was just as broken as he was, no matter how hard she tried to mask it.

"You know; you can cry Nat," He had told her one day after a fight over her well being.

"Crying doesn't get your family or our friends back Clint," She had huffed back pointedly, storming from the house.

She had went to see Bruce at the compound, wanting to talk.

Bruce resided at the compound with Thor, Nebula, Rocket and Rhodey, but he rarely talked to anyone as he chose to throw himself into his work.

"Nat," He greeted the woman with a nod as she stormed in, fluttering the papers around her.

"Why did you leave?" She deadpanned, although she could still feel the unfamiliar sensation of a lump in her throat.

"Nat- I- I really don't know," He had stammered.

"BULLSHIT!" She broke down, slamming her fist against the glass table, sending it through.

Her hand was cut up, skin shredded and pain dulled as adrenaline coursed through her veins, as she took out her rage at the shitstorm that had erupted in their lives those past couple years; that tore them apart, pulled them and molded them into people she didn't recognize.

Bruce wordlessly patched her up as she stared out the window with angry tears prickling the corners of her eyes.

He pretended not to notice.

That was all any of them had been doing.

Pretending.

Pretending it didn't hurt.

Pretending they were moving on.

Pretending they were tough enough to contain it.

Pretending they weren't self medicating.

With booze...

With love...

With obsessions...

They couldn't think of the consequences during battle; they had to fight.

This was the battle that was littered with the consequences and choices.

This was the inner battle.

This was the aftermath.