Snapshots From The End Of The World

Nebula leans over the control panel, the flashing lights reflecting oddly off her exposed metal. “The gas tank’s ruptured,” she says, completely neutrally. “We shouldn’t have made that last jump.”

“Can we fix it?”

“We don’t have the parts.”

“Can we get the parts?”

Nebula pauses, thinking, and Tony stares at her for a long moment. Then he gets it.

“Anywhere advanced enough to have what we need is gonna know who Thanos is. And who you are,” he says.

Nebula cracks an angry smile. “They’d try and kill me. And then I would kill them.”

So that oneshot about Valkyrie and Tony and Nebula being sad in space has spawned a prequel and other sad extras? And there’s gonna be MORE. It’s a rough ride kids.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14744555/chapters/34088330

Flight Of The Commodore

Finding Heimdall is a blow. She had sensed a memory of his seiðr near the hole in the ship and had hoped faintly that he got away.

Finding Loki is worse. He is the last body she brings in and it wasn’t like the something she had occasionally seen in his sharp smiles had meant anything, had ever gone anywhere. Still finding his body, shattered and twisted at the neck, is unquestionably the worst.

There is no sign of Thor or the Hulk. Of course that could mean many things, almost none of them good, and Valkyrie hates the bubbling hope fizzing in her fingertips. I’m going to cry now, she thinks, I’ve done enough and now I get to-

A man’s scream echoes from the direction of the medbay.

Valkyrie goes back to the Asgardian ship to check for survivors and finds those from a different slaughter.

OR

Val and Tony and Nebula’s sad space road trip.

***

I wrote a fic kids! It’s not We Build The Wall To Keep Us Free but I actually have some writing mojo rn! It’s a post-Infinity War Valki/Lokyrie fic but that really isn’t the focus, it’s more about Tony and Valkyrie and Nebula being sad in space.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14722205

This is just a hypothetical question, but…what if Peter was possessed and Tony had to fight him? How would Tony react?

:

“Kid,” Tony chokes out. The pain is unbearable. One eye is swollen shut, he’s got some nasty bruises covering his body, and the hands around his throat won’t let go. They squeeze tighter. 

But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is the eyes that are glaring down at him. So cold and angry. He’s never seen those brown eyes like that. It’s terrifying. 

Not-Peter, because Tony refuses to see this thing as the kid, growls down at him. He has Tony pinned to the ground and he’s sitting on his chest with his knees on each side of his body digging into his ribs. 

“Peter,” Tony says, hoping that the kid is in there somewhere listening. “Fight it. This isn’t you.” 

Peter has to fight this. Tony can’t. He tried and all he got was a brutal beating from a possessed 15-year-old kid. Tony still sees Peter; he can’t stomach hurting this kid. Even if it saves himself. 

“The end,” Not-Peter says. It’s the only thing he’s said since falling under this spell. 

Tony tries to pry Not-Peter’s fingers from around his throat. He knows he’s going to have a black and blue neck for weeks after this. If he survives. Tony hopes he survives just so Peter doesn’t have to live with what he did, or what he didn’t stop. 

“No, not the end.” Tony grunts as he settles on just holding Not-Peter’s hands in his. “Fight it.” 

Not-Peter doesn’t falter. He increases the pressure until Tony sees black spots. He manages to gasp out with a lot of effort, “Kid, I don’t blame you.” He takes a deep breath. “When you wake up, don’t blame yourself. It’s okay.” 

Tony feels himself start to let go. Those brown eyes are still narrowed down at him. “It’s okay, kiddo. It’s okay.” 

His world goes black. 

Of all the people in the world, the first person to come see him is Pepper. Of all the things in the world, the first thing she does is hug him. He barely catches a glimpse of her face, her eyes red and swollen and her skin blotchy with crying, before he is pulled into her arms and she is squeezing him like she knows, like she knows how much he needs someone to hold him together. In her heels, she is tall enough for him to slot right under her chin and for a long moment Peter is stiff in her embrace. Then he leans into her and starts to sob.

Peter had woken up and gone straight to the police station. Not even bothering to take off his costume he’d stumbled up to the main desk and handed them his mask with trembling hands. Addressing the nonplussed officer behind the desk he’d stuttered “My name is Peter Parker and I just killed Tony Stark.”

Everything was a bit confused after that. He knew he’d been lead to a jail cell and given a change of clothes (with no shoelaces or drawstrings, not that that could have stopped him if he hadn’t been determined to face the consequences of his actions) but he didn’t really know how it had all happened.

He’d just stared down at his hands, remembering how the black had drained away from his suit and he’d started to understand. The enemy hadn’t been an enemy. The enemy hadn’t even fought as he crushed his throat in these hands. The enemy had told him not to blame himself.

And now Pepper was here. “Come on, we’ve bailed you out,” she was saying, her voice soft and rough and completely hollow. Then, even softer with some emotion, “No-one blames you Peter.”

“I blame me,” he whispers, pulling away but not daring to look at her.

She seizes his hand and drags him out of the cell. He follows her numbly through the station. The police officer with them hasn’t said a word, he just punches in the codes for the doors and walks slightly ahead of them. Pepper is still squeezing his hand. It hurts. It’s a good hurt.

They’re back at the front desk. Peter blinks at the sunlight streaming in from outside. He felt sure he’d been in the cell for hours, or years, but it couldn’t have been that long if it was still light outside.

The police officer handed Pepper his belongings, including somehow his suit. Peter sensed that she’d already had that fight and won. As they cross the room towards the exit, Pepper places a hand on the back of Peter’s neck, just like-

Just like Tony used to.

There’s no crowd outside. Peter can’t fathom how people can’t already know. How they aren’t already screaming for his blood. Pepper opens the car door for him.

The driver isn’t Happy. Of course it isn’t. Whatever’s going on with Pepper, why-ever she’s helping him, Happy definitely hates him.

Pepper doesn’t tell the driver where to go, but she pulls out anyway and somehow Peter is being driven away from the police station, away from prison and consequences and reality. He’s not sure he’s happy about it. It’s his fault after all. He’d trusted the symbiote. He’d wanted to be stronger, better, to save more people. When the symbiote had him, he’d wanted to kill Tony Stark. Bile rises in Peter’s throat.

Pepper leans forward and puts her head in her hands. She sighs and her breath hitches.

“Thank fuck for shitty movies,” she says. Peter stares at her, all he can think is how he’s never heard her swear before. “Turns out,” she continues, “that it takes someone longer to die than just cutting off their air until they go still.”

Something like hope kindles in his gut.

“But you didn’t know that, so the symbiote didn’t know that-“

“How do you know about the symbiote?” Peter is surprised by his own voice, it sounds much stronger than he feels.

Pepper’s voice goes soft again, “It came after Vision next. We think it wanted all the Avengers dead.”

“Is-“

“Vision’s fine. Everyone’s fine. Except-“ her voice breaks and she stares out the window to avoid looking at him. Finally she leans back in her seat and stares straight ahead. “He hasn’t woken up yet. But he will. He will.”

The cars pulls up outside Stark Tower.

regional differences

nuttersincorporated:

ellidfics:

aprilwitching:

asokkalypsenow:

aprilwitching:

seekingwillow:

tielan:

bemusedlybespectacled:

theactualcluegirl:

copperbadge:

hyvetyrant:

idiopathicsmile:

pfdiva:

vulgarweed:

adramofpoison:

idiopathicsmile:

“oh hey,” she said, “it’s a really touristy area, but since you’re gonna be passing through anyway, you might as well stop by pier 29, see the dragons. also, there’s a—”

“hold on,” i said. “i knew your city had mountains, but. dragons? uh, actual living dragons?”

“dude, it’s not a big deal. they’re there all the time. of course they’re majestic and everything, but they’re loud and cranky and mostly they lie around eating garbage. now and then the city council will talk about trying to make them roost somewhere else, but—”

“dragons,” i repeated. i knew it was making me sound like a rube, but it was a lot to take in. “you live in a city that has dragons.”

“no, it’s cool, we used to go see them when i was a little kid. it’s worth doing. but that whole area is mostly dragon-themed gift shops, and the commercialization is kind of a bummer. also, sometimes a dragon will melt somebody’s car and it’s a whole problem.”

“fairytale-style, giant scaly fire-breathing dragons.”

“honestly, i forget other cities don’t have them?” she said. “there’s a few other sites on the west coast where they gather. portland calls them wyverns, but that’s a portland thing.”

“chicago’s got, like, bunnies and songbirds,” i told her, “but otherwise it’s just your typical vermin. pigeons, rats, sphinxes—”

“sphinxes? what the hell.

“oh, yeah, they nest in the el tunnels. sometimes a fucking sphinx will flap down out of nowhere, bring the whole train to a halt until the front car answers a riddle.”

“that sounds exciting,” she said.

“it’s the worst. your train winds up being twenty minutes late, and you just have to hang out hoping somebody up there read their mythology. there’s supposed to be a program where the conductors get trained in riddling, but i don’t know. rahm emmanuel keeps saying it’s not a budget priority.”

“huh,” she said. “guess the grass is always greener and all that. but on some level, it’s nice to remember that even with all these big box stores, the country still has some variety left in it.”

“yeah, did you know that in rhode island they call water fountains ‘bubblers’?” i said.

“whoa, seriously?”

“i read it somewhere. crazy, right?”

“crazy.”

i am here for urbanized mythological creatures

Switzerland has a lot of dragons, but dragons have long since moved on from collecting gold. There’s a purply-scaley one that roosts behind the Mad Mex that refuses to stop hoarding signposts. The city uses banners for the main roads and sells a lot of maps.

Golems love cities–with their stone buildings and sidewalks. There are strict laws about what one is allowed to say to them, because golems tend to be rather literal and very obedient. There’s always one kid who thinks he knows better. He doesn’t. 

OH MY GOD THE CHICAGO SPHINXES, DON’T GET ME STARTED. Here’s the thing. When you buy your Ventra card at the machine – which is another one of Rahm’s scams, leasing that out to a private company, wtf was he thinking – it’s supposed to have the answer to the riddle on it, right? The sphinx is supposed to scan the bar code and let the train through.

that never fucking happens. Especially on the Blue Line which is down for maintenance all the time and constantly switching tracks and running shuttles, which means half the time you’ve got a sphinx that came over from the fucking Orange Line or some shit and is full of riddles that only the Irish mooks from Bridgeport understand. Or it’s in Polish only. Or it’s got a glitch that makes it stutter and if you interrupt it, it’ll get snippy and bite your head off. LITERALLY. They hush it up but it happens. Businesses lose millions from sphinx-related tardiness every year.

And then there’s a case back in ‘96 when it was proven after the fact that the “wrong” answer the Red Line Sphinx got was actually A PERFECTLY ACCEPTABLE REGIONAL VARIATION but by then, the Sphinx had already eaten half a car full of drunken Cubs fans. I know, not much of value was lost there, BUT STILL.

You think SPHINXES are bad?  Detroit has imps, thousands of them, and you know what they love?  Buses.  You know the major form of public transit in Detroit is?  BUSES.  So the drivers have to literally shoo away imps at every fucking stop, making them 30 minutes late, an HOUR late, and it’s not like there’s anything you can DO, because they’re all leftover from when the car companies were big, and ALL OF THOSE FUCKERS CLOSED.

So of course there were hundreds of orphaned imps, and they kept SAYING they were going to reopen the factories, or at least get some good junkyards, but nooooooooo, they never did, so the imps just bred and bred, and now they’re all over every bus and it’s not like you can ever count on getting anywhere on time and long story short, I’d take a sphinx over imps ANY day.

yeah as someone who did high school and college in michigan and now lives in chicago, i have to say that as far as the age-old sphinxes vs imps debate goes, they’re both terrible in different ways. the imps are way more common and they probably have a wider total reach, and oh my god nothing like trying to board a bus already covered in those little suckers when said bus is already forty minutes late—

(sidenote: ugh people from bloomfield hills saying stuff like “well if i lived in detroit, i’d have the sense to carry around a nice heavy club or walking stick—” yeah dude good luck with your walking stick against two dozen imps)

but the sphinxes. let’s not, uh, sugar coat this: the sphinxes don’t just slow commuters, they kill people. and yes, if you know the riddle, you’re fine. but what if someone else offers their answer first? what if you get some overly cocky freshman philosophy major who takes it upon himself to answer for the whole car?

i think in the back of our minds, all chicagoans know that rahm emmanuel’s administration isn’t gonna lift a finger until one of the sphinxes goes after a wealthy tourist and it makes national news. and even then, we’ll get, like, flashy riddle-solving software installed in all the red line trains, and maybe the brown line, but no way is it gonna cover the whole infrastructure.

basically if you ever need to take the green line or the pink line, you wanna start studying your classical mythology and folklore fucking yesterday.

@copperbadge do puns work on Sphinxes as well as riddles?

You bet your sphinxter they do. 

(Sphinxes hate that one but they’re obliged to honor it.)

I heard they sometimes get bad Selkie problems in Monterey Bay…

It was so weird moving to the South and then to the Midwest after growing up in New England because apparently everywhere else unicorns are a big joke to people? I get it, New Hampshire has the lowest teenage pregnancy rate because we’re all a bunch of virgins, ha ha like I’ve never heard THAT one before, but seriously, you try growing perennials when every year the goddamn unicorn herd comes through and eats all your bulbs. MY BACK YARD IS NOT YOUR PERSONAL TULIP BUFFET, LIGHTFOOT.

The Bunyips have a fondness for the sewers. Which is really something when you’re down at Bondi for an early-morning dip and find that the damn beach is closed because another Bunyip has gone for a swim in the sewerage outlet and then waded back in to shore. Oh, sure, the outlets are supposed to be distant enough that the effluent doesn’t come back to shore, but the damned council who proposed it didn’t think about what was going to happen to all those Bunyips who were missing the swamps that got drained when they built Kingsford Smith Airport in Botany Bay. Sure, a population of nearly 10,000 bunyips is going to make do with a couple of waterways that mostly reek of industrial waste. Not. BRILLIANT TOWN PLANNING, Sydney Council. FUCKING BRILLIANT.

On the other hand, for something really spine-crawling, I suggest you look up “Rio Tinto Mining vs. The Quinkins (Imjim). Cape York, 1985.” That was a clusterfuck and a half – the extra half-clusterfuck got added when they tried to bring the military in to ‘solve the problem’. Fourteen of the children have never been recovered, the roads up into the property are impassable, and the closest you can get is within five klicks by air, land, or sea before all the instrumentation goes haywire. The last chopper to try a landing got a mayday out before readings said it plummeted like a stone.

Also, have you seen the sheer idiocy of a government trying to prosecute local spirits who aren’t going to turn up in court for one and wouldn’t recognise your white man’s law even if they did? Not one of the better periods of Australian government.

I suppose Baltimore has it easy, somewhat? Maybe? Cause the people who get in trouble the most with the mermaids are well, tourists. And there’s SIGNS up. All over. Heck, there’s signs in BRAILLE!

But of course you’ll get the drunk, handsy college boys going down to the Inner Harbour cause some older one wants to initiate a freshman, and some freshman thinks it’ll be cheaper than a strip club to see ‘free’ bare boobs.

It’s like none of them read anything to know that above those boobs, behind those lips are a whole bunch of sharp pointed teeth the better to eat them with.

But mostly it’s the tourists who do read the signs, and don’t go hanging over into the water, or trailing fingers from the water-taxi into the water; But who refuse to wear proper sanctioned ear plugs. Some of them just bring their own which aren’t strong enough to block out the sirens. But others just…. don’t believe for some reason?

I don’t know. But it’s in the news a lot when it happens and some tourists will inevitably say they didn’t think the earplugs were important, cause mermaids are beautiful and nice.

Disney has a lot to make up for – not that it’ll ever do it. But. A lot.

And then there’s the other thing. All the jokes about how they ‘thought the city with mermaids would be Seattle’, nudgenudge, wink wink.

And someone has to smack them down with; how many lost women tossed overboard by the slave trade did Seattle get drifting into their harbours in the under-currents? If there’s no proper bodies for mermaids to lay their eggs, there’s no mermaids.

I used to live in Canton, and there’s lovely apartments there. It’s just a touch expensive for the soundproof glass, y’know? But still, early Saturday morning, watching the mermaids float and sun themselves can actually be pretty, if you’re three stories up, a hundred or more yards from the water and with good soundproofing; all the brown and bronze  and I saw a red tail once. She was gorgeous, dark skin, red tail, upper body all muscled like a dancer.

so having grown up in pennsylvania and north carolina, i thought i was prepared when i moved to florida for school last year. “after all,” i thought, “how different can a skunk ape really be from a bigfoot?”

well, i still don’t know the answer to that question, because it turns out florida is a really big state, and the particular area i moved to hasn’t seen a skunk ape in over twenty years (though, thanks to breeding programs and conservation efforts, i hear they’re thriving elsewhere). 

what i have encountered is basilisks.

they are everywhere in central florida, apparently, and nobody even thought to mention them to me before i moved.

“i’m sorry,” my floridian roommate apologized a few weeks into our cohabitation. “they’re just such a standard part of the background for me. they don’t seem worth freaking out over, to be honest.”

now, i was freaking out, but it turns out the greater basilisks we all know and fear from legends, campfire stories, and the occasional sensationalistic news report only live deep in the swamps. they rarely bother humans. the slithery little guys i’d been seeing out of the corner of my eye on my morning walks– vivid red or gold scales, about the size of a pigeon– are comparatively harmless. yes, if you make direct eye contact with one, it causes an unpleasant pins-and-needles sensation in your arms and legs that can last all day, plus a transient feeling of dizziness and nausea. but it’s not going to paralyze you, let alone turn you to stone. and it’s pretty hard to accidentally make eye contact with a lesser basilisk, anyway. they aren’t confrontational animals; they’ll only try to meet your gaze and stare if they think you’re attacking them or something. (i do worry a little about my second roommate’s dog– she’s been zapped a couple times trying to chase and catch the poor things and, well, she’s a dog, they don’t learn from that kind of experience.)

anyway, turns out most people around here kinda like the lesser basilisks. unlike their large and lethal cousins, they’re mainly insectivores, and they love to eat mosquitoes and roaches. good for pest control!

Ah yeah I’ve heard y’all have problems with basilisk on your side of the state! Hope your roommate’s dog can be kept away from them.

I know the skunk ape population has been on the rise again especially in the national forest in the middle of the state. Who knows, they might migrate back into your area soon!

But as for my area we’ve been having real trouble with the sea serpents lately. They hang around the waterways and rivers during breeding season.

Not that they themselves are the problem I think it’s more people not respecting their habitat. It’s at least once a year some jackass is speeding with a boat in a no wake zone and they’ll cut up their backs pretty bad, even with all the scales. It’s a real shame, especially the juveniles. There’s programs to rescue and rehabilitate them here but it’s hard to get every one, and that’s just the ones that get spotted.

Though I gotta say I’m proud of the legislation we have protecting their nests. People get arrested if they disturb them and we gotta cover the lights on the beach during the hatching season so they can wriggle down to the ocean okay.

All the tourists around here are scared of them and I gotta admit we do have a high attack frequency. My sister’s friend has a friend who got bit by one last year. But I still think it’s cause there’s more tourists in the oceans and the poor things mistaking them for fish or a shark or something. They’re predators and they’re hungry but they’re not man eaters or anything. And they sure are pretty if you catch a glimpse of them, their scales are mostly blues and greens but they’re also always a little iridescent! All those documentaries pretending they’re stone cold killers make me sad

oh, i know! it’s like that shark week baloney– even the discovery channel likes to pretend they’re these vicious, unstoppably bloodthirsty things, like the Terminators of the natural world or something. sure, i guess that makes some people more interested in them, but it also makes a lot of people way more scared of sea monsters than they need to be. most attacks on humans aren’t even fatal, if i’m remembering the statistics right.

 mermaids are actually way more dangerous than sea monsters– as someone mentioned upthread– but are there 6-volume cult classic horror movie franchises about killer mermaids with a taste for human flesh? pretty sure there aren’t! (i’m talking about those Behemoth From Butcher’s Bay flicks from the 80s and 90s, of course. i mean, they’re pretty entertaining! but they’re also not what you would call scientifically accurate. at all.)

yeah, i get worked up about this stuff, sorry. where i’m from, bigfoots get a similar bad rap– and they aren’t even predators! there have been all of four confirmed bigfoot attack deaths in the state of pennsylvania, ever, out of like nine attacks total, and all of them involved someone hunting or otherwise antagonizing the bigfoot. well, except for one that might have had rabies, back like a hundred years ago. i think people are just creeped out because, well, they are big– and they kinda look human? like, they’re too close to the uncanny valley to be charismatic megafauna. or whatever.

Oh, come now.  None of this can possibly be as annoying as the herd of pegasi that nest in and near Mount Tom, in western Massachusetts.  They fly over the one road up the mountain from Easthampton to Holyoke all the time and shit on the passing cars, which plays hell on your clearcoat finish.  Worse, the Sparkle Carwash on Route 10 charges TWICE the going rate for a wash & wax to get pegasus poop off your car before it hardens and you need a putty knife to get it off.

Also?  Don’t ask about the time I was driving to a friend’s house with my moon roof open and one of those pretty pretty sparkle ponies had explosive diarrhea ten feet overhead.  Just don’t.

Does anyone else in the UK ever
just get really thrown by how different counties react to their Black Ghost
Dogs? I’m only calling them ghost dogs this once so everyone knows what I’m
talking about. To me they’ll always be ‘padfoots’.

I mean, I’m a Lancashire girl
born and bred and I’ve never been afraid of them. Honestly, padfoots protect
the living and the dead. They are needed. I just don’t get why people would be afraid
of them.

I’m friends with the padfoot, who
lives in our local graveyard. She’s such a good girl. Other village graveyards
have problems with ghouls but not ours and
no reanimated corpses ever come close to escaping the grounds or hurting the
living.

But like, if you go to Yorkshire
(which is the next county) everyone’s terrified of them. Plus, they call them ‘barguists’
which just sounds odd to me. Padfoot seems so much friendlier than barguist.

Half the people in Yorkshire are
convinced that they are death omens just because they live in graveyards. That
makes no sense. It’s like saying fish are an omen of death because they live in
water and we can drown.

Banshees are death omens, not padfoots.
People are wrong about death omens anyway. Banshees don’t cause death. They
just sense when it’s close. I got so angry when people act like the banshees that hang
around hospitals murder people. It’s just not true. I wouldn’t have reached my grandad’s
hostpital bed when he passed away if the banshee on the ward hadn’t let the
doctor that he was slipping away.

was it whitby? i bet it was fucking whitby, they still haven’t killed the braughest=dracula association even though it’s been literally over a century. vampires are mostly chill but you get one really famously evil one and it fucks people up for YEARS. oh also, in south yorkshire they had some kind of spectral rabies that made the ghost dogs REALLY DANGEROUS for a bit in the 70s and people are still wary, but it never reached us up here on the border between west/north yorkshire. i have two (living) dogs and when we moved into our house there were three whoofters living in the graveyard next door. i’m not sure my puppies will ever understand why they can’t run right through walls like their bigger siblings. the real problem is dinner time, a whoofter floating through your bacon sandwich and leaving it covered in electoplasm is upsetting to say the least. they can’t even taste the food!

one thing i’ve always wondered about is those strange lights in the hills you see when you drive through the pennines at night. we get centaur parties on the yorkshire moors, but you can tell one of those from miles off, and that is NOT what is going on there

autumn-whitewolf:

Just kinda wanna be that spooky misunderstood witch who lives in a small cottage in the woods that smells like sandal wood and cinnamon as well as walk around talking to a crow that chills on my shoulder

you’ve just exactly described the witch from the bedtime stories i tell my little sister. plot twist: she marries the princess