❝ and even as we fall, my eyes will still be on you ❞
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four identities
two teenagers
one love
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| peter parker // oc |
| marvel mcu |
| pre civil war → endgame |
| #1 in Peter Parker Fanfic |
| #2 in Spider-Man |
| #1 in Marvel Fanfic |
| s...
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» sinners and the saints «
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❝ death doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints. it takes and it takes and it takes, and we keep living anyway. we rise, we fall, we break, and we make our mistakes. but if there's a reason i'm still alive when everyone who loves me has died, then i'm willing to wait for it. ❞
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SCOUT PAXTON'S BODY WAS STARTING TO GROW NUMB. Lately, this was becoming a norm for her. Every morning she would awake in her bed, hoping that when she opened her eyes everything would have just been a dream. She prayed to wake up to the sound of birds, but instead, she woke up to a deadly silence of a world left to nothing but dusty footsteps. That's when the numbing feeling would come knocking, spreading over her body, tying her down and threatening to keep her in bed all day. It took every ounce of willpower to get up each morning.
Emptiness was a foreign concept to her. She had never not known who she was. Her identity was always The Electric Siren, and her purpose was always to serve the city of New York. But now, she spent her days staring at blank walls and living through the memories in her mind. These memories were the only things keeping her awake, and her heart longed for the way her life used to be. Yet, she knew that nothing could go back to the way that it was. She was trying to force herself to accept that.
It was a Wednesday when Scout sat in a booth at Metro's across from her sister. The restaurant was moving slowly, and the dim lighting that used to never bother her now felt like a dark cloud hanging over her head. It was almost a picture of what Scout's life looked like before the day of June Fourteenth; she would come to Metro's with Charlotte all the time, not having to worry about any strange super powers, her only worries regarding homework and chores.
She hated how when she looked around the restaurant, everyone seemed to talk and enjoy themselves so easily. She didn't understand how everyone was able to just move on and act like nothing had happened. What she didn't realize, however, was that the entire world had five years to grieve—Scout only had been given a week and three days thus far. And as much as it seemed like life went on, each person was secretly hurting deep inside. It was the most broken civilization had ever been. Every race of people, all different walks of life, were united in one pain.
