A Voice Suddenly Breaks Through His Memories Of What Feels Like Forever Ago Which Makes Peter Snap Back

A voice suddenly breaks through his memories of what feels like forever ago which makes Peter snap back to the present, and it takes everything in him to not start webbing in all directions to find Beck and get him to stop.

Because seeing the lake house is one thing.

But hearing that voice…it’s on a whole other level of messed up.

Peter has to remind himself though it’s not Beck, he killed himself.

Beck is dead.

He’s dead.

It can’t possibly be him creating that voice.

And his Spidey sense tells him it's safe.

Nothing is adding up. If it’s not Beck then who is it? Peter slightly turns but stops when he hears the voice again, rougher and on edge this time.

“I said don’t move, what do you have cotton in your ears? You have two seconds to tell me who the hell you are and why you’re wearing that suit before I blow you into a million tiny pieces.”

Peter physically pales as his legs grow weak.

Notpossiblenotpossiblenotpossible.

This can’t be real.

This couldn’t be happening.

Peter is fully convinced he’s been killed by that purple ravine because what else but death can explain why he’s hearing this voice behind him?

What else but death can explain this view?

Maybe his death is meant to be a torturous one. Just like his dreams he is doomed to live in a never-ending loop of hearing the voices of his loved ones, seeing them, but none of them looking at Peter with the same warmth he had.

His head feels like it’s spinning a mile a minute and his breath was…is he breathing? Yes, he is. In out. In out.

Against his better judgment, Peter turns around not listening to what the voice had threatened to do at all. He needs to know, although a part of him doesn’t want to turn, because how cruel would it be for nothing but empty space to be in its place? He needs to know why a voice he hasn’t heard in two years can suddenly be speaking behind him. How that person can be there when the last time they saw each other was on a battlefield, right before one of them snapped their fingers for the entire universe and has been resting in the ground ever since.

Peter doesn’t know what he’s expecting.

He hopes the person will be real, but he is never that lucky, not with his infamous Peter luck.

Maybe that’s why he can’t contain the audible gasp that slips past his lips at seeing Tony Stark standing only a few feet away.

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

Mr. Stark is alive.

Notpossiblenotpossiblenotpossible.

REBLOG if you have amazing, talented WRITER friends.

Because I certainly do, and I love every single one of them and their work.

Chimney is five years old when he first meets Maddie Buckley.

His family is new to America having just moved here from Seoul at the beginning of summer. He’s had three months to get used to a culture so unlike his own, but he finds three months isn’t enough time. He wants to go home. He wants his grandparents and his old room. He doesn’t like the fact people dress weird and their language is hard to understand at some points even if he can speak some of it.

Then one day his mom sits him down and explains that he starts school this year, kindergarten, and she tells him he’ll have loads of fun and make tons of friends. There will be toys and snacks and story time and a bunch of other activities he loves. None of it sounds like fun to him though, it all sounds scary and new and unlike what he’s used to.

No matter how hard he cries or begs for her to allow him to stay home she brings him anyway on the first day. The minute he steps foot into the classroom the tears spring to his eyes as the teacher approaches him to say hi and the kids running circles around them only make it worse. He buries himself behind his mom’s legs and holds on for dear life hoping if he holds on tight enough she has no choice but to take him away from this strange place. She peels him off though and kneels down before him, brushing a stray tear away and promising if he gives it a chance he’ll have an amazing day.

He isn’t so easily convinced.

But then a girl his age approaches them, her brown eyes shining in delight as she grins at him with the widest smile he thinks he’s ever seen on someone. The red bows in her hair keep her two pigtails up matching her red overall dress and white dress shirt underneath.

“Hi, I’m Madeline, what’s your name?”

He doesn’t know why he responds, but he does.

“H-Howard.”

He hates suddenly crying so openly now, especially in front of this girl. It makes him feel a little embarrassed. She doesn’t comment on it though, only proceeds to talk to him like there aren't two adults watching the exchange only a few inches from them.

“Wanna sit with me? We need a buddy and I don’t have one. Maybe you can be mine?”

He looks from his mom to the girl and back again. She gives him an encouraging smile and he turns back to the girl with one of his own.

“Okay!”

There are no more tears or worries or fears because he has made his first friend and suddenly he’s excited to see what else can happen today with her by his side. They walk hand in hand to a table with two purple chairs and sit, Maddie continuing to work on a picture she was coloring before approaching him.

“Now that we are buddies Howard you can call me Maddie.”

“Okay, Maddie.” He tries it out, letting the shortened name roll off his tongue, and finds he likes saying that way better than Madeline.

It fits her.

Chimney can’t help but let his mind wander to his mother calling him by his own shortened name, one he likes and that no one else uses, and finds that he doesn’t mind if maybe one other person calls him that too.

“You can call me Howie.”

Maddie looks up at him and smiles. “Alright Howie.”

despite her efforts to evade me, i have finally filmed my cat playing my harp

10 year old college humor sketch that i watched at 1am last night and have since watched five more times