Black Webs

Empty Gold

It's down to me and you,
in this cold and empty street,
forgotten what we're living for.

Don't let go yet,
don't settle for less,
and everything you are...

why are we so incomplete?
when all I own is just dust and gold.

xxxxx

"our red string is burning,
tangled, knotted.

fate is laughing.
I reach for the scissors."

- meant to be? - a.j (via achillics on tumblr)

xxxxx

t w e n t y - e i g h t

S t i l e s

It could be salvaged.

The diseased city still sprouted branches of hope.

The architecture for one, was still left standing, aside from some fires that had broken out in clusters in the streets, the buildings and the monuments; most of them, were still holding on. Of course they were, the structures of New York, despite of what all the apocalyptic movies would have one believe, were quite sturdy and not that easily damaged.

Spiderman could still see it all. The Chrysler Building, The Hudson River, the graceful silhouette of the mighty maiden in the distance; the Statue of Liberty still holding up her torch in ripened defiance of Wolfram & Hart's villainous actions.

The vein of the city itself seemed to gleam red with rage or blood, Spiderman couldn't quite tell.

This cityscape, this glimmering pearl necklace of skyline, this was a world within a world; a whimsical portrait that depicted all that they'd accomplished and all that they were yet to accomplish.

It would not go down without a fight.

For once, Spiderman thought, as he perched upon the roof of his favorite skyscraper, New York City was a bundle of darkness, only lit by the ravenous fires intent on devouring its beauty whole, and the dimming stars that hadn't been completely knocked out by the smog.

Determination bit back the melancholy of it all; of how close these ultra villains were coming to winning, of how many people out there would die while he went off to storm Yin & Yang, on his own agenda, of the consistent and pulsating fear in the back of his mind that made him imagine what would happen if he would die tonight.

He took one last look at the city and decided he would not watch it in ruins.

If I find today in a history book years into the future, I want to read about victory, not a conquest.

He found Yin & Yang about fifteen minutes later. He knew it was them because they were flashy and loud and couldn't resist theatrics as usual.

He arrived at a night club downtown, music boomed loudly from it, it bled into his feet and made the ground jump up at him. It was the only building loud and alive, seemingly unfazed by the deadness of everything around it.

He could hear them cackling from outside the door.

Briefly, before heading inside, Spiderman let himself wonder whether Lydia and Scott were okay, if they'd found Derek Hale, he wondered whether Derek really was dead, he figured despite everything, he didn't really want him to be.

He thought about Malia and Allison, he hoped they wouldn't let their passionate fury overpower their sensibilities.

He hoped he wouldn't have another dead body to add to the ever-growing list. He hoped he wouldn't have to add himself to said list.