Peter Parker and Avengers One Shots

Mark Of The Magi's Madness

not feeling much inspiration except for this wip, so here you are.

at the end, guess who it is! a lot of you guys got it last time so i'm making it harder! (maybe say the clues that made you figure it out?)

TW TW TW TW TW BIG SAD MEGA BAD VIBES

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Shaking.

Hands are always shaking.

Shaking like the earth after the oceans declare their rage, like the skies do when the clouds roll dark with fury. Endlessly trembling, like a coward whose life is flashing as lightning does, a spark of good before the evil takes over again.

Isn't that how all of our stories will end? With evil triumphing over the forces of the heavens? Because although all of the fiction and history that we have read depict that good always wins, that mantra is just the survivor's tale.

Who are we to say that they are the good?

Good always wins. What a falsehood. What a lie, that stains your mouth green with the poison that drips from it.

The fighter wins. The thinker wins.  Above all else, patience wins. 

Patience; to be calm, collected, quiet while you watch the forces of humanity plunder each other's homes, neutral to all the decisions that come your way.

At least, that's what I tell myself. 

That's what I whisper to myself while the fires blaze and embers smolder around me, the molten breeze finding its way to my window.

That's what I chant while the ichor flows gold on foreign soil, while the mortal blood flows red. 

How ashamed am I that I once shunned those colors. 

But that doesn't matter now, because I close my eyes and turn away from theirs, even though I was the cavalry.

I was the hail mary, the last stand, the last hope of my team, and I left.

I saw the situation, I saw what would happen, and I turned away.

So, now I sit, legs crossed and shoulders heavy with the weight of who I've condemned, looking at the skies that won't console me.

I am a monster, perhaps, but does that matter now?

I'm a hydra from mythology with nine heads, all filled with teeth, all filled with the knowledge of what I've done. 

It's a heavy burden for a beast, trying to escape the endless march of time and guilt.

The patient man will win over the reckless one, and that's what I had to keep in mind. I couldn't let personal relationships get in the way of the victory that humanity needed, the victory that humanity wouldn't survive without.

Patience wins.

Patience.

Patience.

Why does it have to be me? 

Is it the karma of what I've done? My arrogance, my recklessness? My greed?

Tell me what it was, because I don't want this future! I don't want to stand in a bubble of safety while I watch my friends die in violence, thrown in piles, not given the decency of a grave to rot in. 

I don't want this! I never wanted any of this! I don't want to see my broken mind become a reality, washed in green and covered in melted gold medallions as the messed up tears that I wish I had less of.

I don't want this destiny, I don't want the responsibility to put logic over love, I don't want the lives of billions in my shaking hands that never could do anything right. 

Why does it have to be me? 

Why does everything have to fall on me, the lone stranger on a rock, unable to do anything but watch as the ones they've grown to like die as not even the evilest should?

No. I won't stand for it. I won't sit like a child as death reaps my friends. I won't let them die, even if it means dying myself. 

My life never was as important as theirs, anyway.

And as I walk down to the valley of death, I smile, because I am going to win this whether or not they want me to. 

I am the hail mary, the last stand, the last hope of my team, and I am going to blow. I can't take it anymore, so I'm not going to.

I may have gone insane, my eyes may be wild and bloodshot, but I don't care.

I don't care anymore, at all. 

The only thing that will be left when I go nuclear will be a crater and my friends, a shining jewel of how much I hate my role in the show of life. A mark of the magi's madness. A red flag waving in the wind.

But does it matter?

Good doesn't always win, but the fighter does, so my boot meets the soil and my teeth are bared.

I'm going down, but the history books will remember me as an angel, a harbinger of peace.

You will remember me, not as how I died but as how they portray me, which will undoubtedly be better than the truth.

So be it.

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this might be really hard idkdkdkddk make sure to say who i think it is

also!!! THIS HIT 100K READS!! so, pick from my wips what you want posted next friday :)

1) speedster peter

2) peter and shield something

3) another mysterious person wip

4) fluff or something idk

5) more parkner/parley

6) ANGST

7) other (specify)

hey is now a good time to pretty please check out my poetry book? :3