When he was lying around, there was a moment when his mind flashed back to a woman with a stunning smile, who made him feel warm when he could make her laugh. Jane Foster. He could remember her phone number. Once you've memorized something from staring at it too long it's hard to erase. He carefully dialed and smiled at the memory of ordering Chinese food with her. The phone rung once, twice, three times...
Ethan sat down, feeling a pull of his heart, feeling it getting heavier and heavier as it sunk down into his stomach, restricting his breath. "No, she hasn't," he whispered. "She didn't. She fucking couldn't!" He started to yell. After everything, she just... Stopped being alive... He refused to believe it, punching the nearest thing, which happened to be a wall.
"No," he repeated, his eyes welling up, and fuckfuckfuck, it hurt so much. She was a light, someone who just held this presence that made anybody feel better. "It wasn't her. It wasn't."
Reading my sisters blog instead of report writing. I have been up since five writing this thing. I am super duper over it. Behind a cut in case other people don’t want to read about how boring I am.
It was a drab, dreary kind of day outside, but that was fine.
Ilona was waiting in a comfy chair in a quiet corner of the ice cream parlor, humming to herself (off-key as always) as she waited for her favorite smart-ass astrophysicist to meet her. As usual, she was fiddling with her phone, compulsively checkingly her email, her assignment list, on and on, and she hurriedly fired off a text here and there.
Four months away, and apparently 60% of hell had broken loose.
Hello my dear. [Before Ilona had a chance to respond, Loki raised his hand to the level of her chest and immediately, she were coated in a veil of golden light. Seconds later and Ilona was transported alone to a darkened room to where three other people were gathered…]