[Osborn Plot] Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice.

[daretodo]

It was paint, I keep reminding myself. Norman Osborn's hand was covered in red paint. Even knowing that, though, the image is hard to get out of my mind -- Norman's hand dripping in red, the look of insanity behind his eyes, just beneath the surface after months spent buried. The change in weather took away more than just the snow. He's not pretending anymore. Whoever Alton Hartford was is gone, now, and all that's left is Norman.

Norman, Norman, Norman.

I tear through the jungle like a man possessed, adrenaline pushing me faster with each passing second. I need to find Mary Jane -- need to make sure she's alright, need to warn her that what we've been dreading for months is probably right around the corner. When I show up at her hut, drenched in sweat and white as a ghost, I only hope I picked the right one. We can't afford to waste more time.

"Mary Jane!" I call, rapping my knuckles hard against the door. "Mary Jane, open up!"

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[daretodo]

My eyes fall shut. Despite everything -- the panic, the fear, the almost overwhelming sense of dread for the inevitable -- I smile against her mouth, barely enough to even qualify, but just a little all the same. I take a deep breath through my nose, sliding my hand from her cheek to the back of her neck, her skin impossibly warm under mine. Holding her like this, it strikes me how selfish I'm being for dragging her into this mess, a remnant from an entirely different universe of which her only tie is me. If I were a stronger man, maybe I would drive her away all over again, but I'm not. I'm not that strong. The honest truth is, I don't know what I'd do without her...

Which is why there is no power on this island that will prevent me from keeping her safe and whole.

[getemtiger.livejournal.com]

Mary Jane stayed where she was got a long moment, unwilling to pull away and be faced with everything that was wrong again, but having sense enough not to do anything more, either. All she knew was that it was ending soon, which to her meant anything from weeks to mere minutes, and it wasn't worth the risk of something happening now. Finally, reluctantly, she eased back, just enough to rest her forehead against his. She still ought to have said something, she was sure, but she didn't even know where to start, or if it was even something she was supposed to mention again, so she didn't. Instead, she stayed still under his touch, gaze not leaving his. If he wanted to say anything more about it, he would, and that was that.